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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0069174 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53753 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53753) diff --git a/old/53753-8.txt b/old/53753-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8d7927b..0000000 --- a/old/53753-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7889 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., -No. 4, December, 1834, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 4, December, 1834 - -Author: Various - -Editor: James E. Heath - -Release Date: December 17, 2016 [EBook #53753] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, DEC. 1834 *** - - - - -Produced by Ron Swanson - - - - - -THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER: - -DEVOTED TO EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS. - - -Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. - _Crebillon's Electre_. - -As _we_ will, and not as the winds will. - - -RICHMOND: -T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. -1834-5. - - - - -SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. - -VOL. I.] RICHMOND, DECEMBER, 1834. [NO. 4. - -T. W. WHITE, PRINTER AND PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY - -And Present Condition of Tripoli, with some accounts of the -other Barbary States. - -No. II. - - -From the year 1551, when Tripoli was taken by Dragut, to the early part -of the eighteenth century, it continued to form a part of the Turkish -empire; and as such, but little is known respecting it. However, though -governed by a Pasha appointed from Constantinople, and garrisoned -exclusively by Turkish troops, it did not entirely lose its -nationality, and appears to have been much less dependant on the -Sultan, than the other parts of his dominions; for we find upon record, -treaties between Tripoli and various European powers concluded within -that period, in which no mention whatever is made of the Porte. That -with England, was negotiated in 1655 by Blake, immediately after his -successful bombardment of Tunis; it proved however of little value, for -ten years after, Sir John Narborough was sent with a fleet against -Tripoli, on which occasion the celebrated Cloudesley Shovel first -distinguished himself, in the destruction of several ships under the -guns of the castle. - -At length a revolution was effected in the government; the allegiance -to the Sultan was thrown off, and his paramount authority was reduced -to a mere nominal suzerainty. In the year 1714, Hamet surnamed -Caramalli, or the Caramanian, from a province of Asia Minor in which he -was born, while in command of the city as Bey or lieutenant during the -absence of the Pasha, formed a conspiracy among the Moors, by whose -aid, the city was freed from Turkish troops in a single night. Three -hundred of them were invited by him to an entertainment at a castle a -few miles distant from Tripoli, and were despatched as they -successively entered a dark hall or passage in the building; of the -others, many were found murdered in the streets next morning, and but a -small number escaped to tell the dreadful tale. A Moorish guard was -instantly formed, strong enough to repel any attack which could have -been expected; and Hamet was proclaimed sovereign, under the title of -Pasha. The new prince did not however trust entirely to arms, for the -security of his title, but instantly sent a large sum to -Constantinople, which being properly distributed, he succeeded in -obtaining confirmation, or rather recognition by the Sultan. He -moreover solemnly adopted Abdallah the infant son of his predecessor -and declared him heir to the throne; but he altered these views, if he -had ever entertained them, when his own children grew up, for his -eldest son was made Bey or lieutenant at an early age, and afterwards -succeeded him; Abdallah, however, lived through nearly three reigns, as -Kiah, or governor of the castle, and was murdered in 1790, by the hand -of the late Pasha Yusuf. - -Hamet seemed really desirous to advance the true interests of his -dominions, and for that purpose endeavored to make friends of the -European nations. Within a few years after his accession, he concluded -treaties with England, the United Provinces, Austria and Tuscany, one -of which alone, contains a vague proviso, respecting the approval of -the Sultan. The stipulations of these treaties are principally -commercial, or intended to secure the vessels of the foreign power, -from capture; no mention is made in them of any payments to Tripoli, -but it is generally understood that considerable sums were annually -given by the weaker states for the purpose of obtaining such exemption, -and by the more powerful in order to encourage the piracies. By these -means the commerce of the country was increased; the manufactures of -Europe were imported for the use of its inhabitants, and for -transportation into the interior, by the caravans; in return, dates, -figs, leather, &c. were exported from Tripoli, and cattle from the -ports lying east of it. One of the most valuable articles sent to -Europe, was salt, brought from the desert and the countries beyond, -where it is found in abundance, of the finest quality, either as -rock-salt or in sheets resembling ice on the sand. Soda was likewise -exported in great quantities, principally to France; but the facility -with which it is now obtained from common salt, has much lessened the -value of that substance and the quantity of it carried from Tripoli. - -This commerce was carried on exclusively in foreign vessels, -principally English, Dutch and French; those of Tripoli being all -fitted out as cruisers, and engaged in piracy. None of its vessels -indeed could venture to leave the place without being armed and manned -to an extent which the profits of a trading voyage would not warrant; -for in addition to the Spaniards, Venitians, Genoese and other maritime -states, with one or other of which the Tripolines were generally at -war, they had a constant and inveterate enemy in the Knights of Malta, -whose gallies were ever hovering about the port, and who in the -treatment of their captives, improved upon the lessons of cruelty -taught by their Barbary neighbors. - -These cruisers were charged to respect all vessels belonging to powers -with which Tripoli had treaties; but such charges were occasionally -forgotten, when a richly laden ship was encountered by a Corsair -returning perhaps from a fruitless cruise; and the Pasha who was -entitled to a large portion of each prize, sometimes shewed less -alacrity than was promised by his treaties in causing the damage to be -repaired. A mistake of this kind with regard to some French vessels, -provoked that government in 1729, when it was at peace with England, to -send a squadron to Tripoli, for the purpose of demanding satisfaction. -The result of this display was a treaty, the terms of which were -dictated by the French Admiral de Gouyon. The Pasha in the most abject -manner acknowledged his infractions of the former treaty, and accepted -with gratitude, the pardon and peace which the Emperor[1] of France was -pleased to grant him--all the French prizes taken were to be restored, -or indemnification made for those which were lost or injured--the -French captives were to be released, together with twenty other -_Catholic_ prisoners to be selected by the Admiral--Tripoline cruisers -were to be furnished with certificates from the French Consul, who was -to take precedence of all other Consuls on public occasions--French -vessels with their crews were not to be molested--together with many -other provisions, calculated to give to France immunities and -advantages, not enjoyed by any other nation. As an additional -humiliation, all stipulations made or that might be made with the -Porte, were to be observed by Tripoli; and the treaty was to remain in -force one hundred years. - -[Footnote 1: The King of France is always styled Emperor in -negotiations with the Oriental Powers.] - -This treaty is one of the many evidences of the want of common sense, -which formerly presided over diplomatic negotiations, and rendered -their history a record of unjust pretension on the one hand, of -duplicity and subterfuge on the other. Exclusive advantages for a -period which might as well have been left indefinite, are arrogantly -extorted from a petty state, without reflecting, that supposing the -utmost desire on its part, they could be observed only until some other -strong power should demand the same for itself. The Barbary states have -long known the absurdity of this, and have profited by it; to the force -of the greater nations, they have merely opposed the _Punica fides_, -and when availing resistance cannot be made, they sign any treaty -however humiliating, trusting to Allah for an opportunity to break it -profitably. - -The inutility of these exclusive stipulations was soon proved; for in -1751 Tripoli became involved in difficulties with Great Britain, from -circumstances similar to those which had provoked the ire of France. -The quarrel terminated in a similar manner; a fleet was sent, and a -treaty dictated, less humiliating in style to the weaker and less -arrogant on the part of the stronger, than that with France, but giving -to Great Britain in effect, all the exclusive or superior advantages, -and to her consul the same precedence of all other consuls, which had -already been solemnly guarantied to the French. As a matter of course -the latter sent a squadron soon after, to require a renewal of the -treaty of 1729 with stipulations still more in their favor, to which of -course the Pasha consented. The same plan has been pursued by these two -great nations, with regard to the other states of Barbary; and the -court of each Bey, Pasha or Emperor, has been a perpetual theatre for -the intrigues and struggles for influence of their consuls. - -In the early treaties with these states, we see no provision against -piracy in general, no protest against the principle;--Tripoline -cruisers shall not make prizes of our vessels, nor appear within a -certain distance of our coasts--thus much they say; but nothing else -appears, from which it might be gathered, that Tripoli was other than a -state, respectable itself and complying with those evident duties, -which compose the body of national morals. In fact Great Britain and -France, each keeping a large naval force in the Mediterranean, which -could immediately chastise any offence against its own commerce, not -only had no objection to the practice of piracy, but even secretly -encouraged it; as the vessels of the weaker states were thus almost -excluded from competition in trade. The abandonment of this despicable -policy is one among the many triumphs of principle and feeling, which -have marked the advance of civilization during the last twenty years, -and which authorize us in hoping that a desire to promote the general -welfare of mankind, may in future exert an influence in the councils of -statesmen. - -In addition to his acts of pacific policy, Hamet extended his dominions -by force of arms; he conquered Fezzan, a vast tract of desert, -sprinkled with _oases_ or islands of fertile soil, lying south of -Tripoli and which has until lately been held by his successors; this -conquest was important from the revenue it yielded, and from the -advantages it afforded to caravans to and from the centre of Africa. He -also reduced to complete subjection, the intractable inhabitants of the -ancient Cyrenaica or part lying beyond the Great Syrtis; and upon the -whole displayed so much energy and real good sense in his actions, that -viewing the circumstances under which he was placed, he may be -considered fairly entitled to the appellation of _Great_, which has -been bestowed on him by the people of Tripoli. Sometime before his -death, he became totally blind, which affliction was believed by the -more devout of his subjects, to have been sent as punishment for an act -of tyranny, such as daily practised in those countries. In one of his -visits to a mosque in the vicinity of the city, he chanced to see a -young girl, the daughter of the Marabout or holy man of the place, -whose beauty made such an impression on him, that he ordered the father -to send her that evening richly drest to the castle, under penalty of -being hacked to pieces, if he should fail to do so. She was accordingly -conveyed to the royal apartments, but the Pasha on entering the room, -found her a corpse; in order to save herself from violence, she had -acceded to the wish of her father and taken a deadly potion. It is -needless to relate what were the torments inflicted upon the parent; -while writhing under them, he prayed that Allah would strike the -destroyer with blindness; and his prayer was granted, it is said, as -soon as uttered. However this may have been, a blind sovereign cannot -long retain his power in Barbary; and Hamet probably felt that his own -authority was less respected; for without any other ostensible reason, -he deliberately shot himself in presence of his family in 1745. At -least such is the account of his end given to the world. - -After the death of Hamet the Great, the usual dissensions as to who -should succeed him, for sometime distracted the country; his second son -Mohammed at length established his claim, and with singular -magnanimity, permitted seven of his brothers to live through his reign, -which ended with his life in 1762. - -Ali, the son and successor of Mohammed, was not so indulgent, and -accordingly his uncles were soon despatched. One of them, a child, was -however believed to have escaped, and a man was for many years -supported at Tunis, whom the politic sovereign of that country affected -to consider as the prince. The pretensions of this person were even -favored by the Sultan, who, ever desirous of re-establishing his power -over Tripoli, adopted this means of keeping the country in a ferment, -and the Pasha in alarm. However, after this first bloody measure, which -is considered as a mere act of prudence in the East, Ali passed his -reign, not only without any show of cruelty, but actually exhibiting in -many cases a degree of culpable kindness. He seems indeed to have been -a weak and really amiable man, possessing many negative virtues, and -even a few positive; among the latter of which, were constancy and real -attachment for his family. He had but one wife, who doubtless merited -the devoted respect with which he always treated her; and when we read -the details of their family life, as recorded in the agreeable pages of -Mrs. Tully,[2] it is difficult to imagine that such scenes could have -taken place within the bloodstained walls of the castle of Tripoli. - -[Footnote 2: Narrative of a Ten Year's residence in Tripoli, from the -Correspondence of the family of the late Richard Tully, British Consul -at Tripoli, from 1785 to 1794.] - -But if Ali received pleasure and consolation from his faithful Lilla -Halluma, the mutual hatred of their three sons rendered the greater -part of his existence a horrible burden. Hassan, the eldest of the -princes, was a man of much energy, together with a considerable share -of generosity and good feeling. He was at an early age invested by his -father with the title of Bey, which implies an acknowledgement of his -right to succeed to the throne, and moreover gives him the command of -the forces, the only effectual means of substantiating that right. In -this office he soon distinguished himself during many expeditions which -he commanded against various refractory tribes; and under his -administration, the army and the revenues of the country began to -recover from the miserable state in which the supineness of his father -had permitted them to languish. Indeed, upon the whole, he gave promise -of as much good with as little alloy, as could possibly have been -expected in a sovereign of Tripoli. - -Hamet, the second son of the Pasha, inherited the weakness of his -father, without his better qualities, and exhibited throughout life the -utmost want of decision; in prosperity ever stupidly insolent; in -adversity the most abject and degraded of beings, the slave of any one -who was pleased to employ him. An improper message sent by the Bey to -his wife, soon after their marriage, provoked a deadly hatred against -his elder brother, which only exhibited itself however in idle vaporing -threats of vengeance. The distracted parents did all in their power to -produce a reconciliation, but in vain; the Bey was haughty, and Hamet -implacable; neither trusting himself in the presence of the other, -unless armed to the teeth and environed by guards. - -Yusuf, the youngest son, was the reverse of Hamet; brave, dashing and -impetuous, he had scarcely reached his sixteenth year, before he openly -declared his determination to struggle with the Bey for the future -possession of the crown, or even to pluck it from the brow of his fond -and tottering parent. Hassan at first regarded this as the mere -ebullition of boyish feelings, and endeavored to attach him by acts of -kindness; but they were thrown away on Yusuf, who apparently siding -with Hamet, acquired over him an influence which rendered him a ready -tool. The whole country was engaged in the dispute, and daily brawls -between the adherents of the opposing parties rendered Tripoli almost -uninhabitable. - -The report of this state of things produced much effect at -Constantinople; the Sultan wished to regain possession of Tripoli, and -he had reason to fear lest its distracted state should induce some -christian power to attempt its conquest. It was therefore arranged in -1786, that an attack should be made on the place by sea, while the Bey -of Tunis should be ready with a force to co-operate by land if -necessary. The Capoudan Pasha or Turkish High Admiral, at that time was -the famous Hassan, who afterwards distinguished himself in the wars -against Russia on the Black Sea, and against the French in the Levant, -particularly by the relief of Acre in 1799, while it was besieged by -Buonaparte. He was the mortal enemy of Ali, and was moreover excited by -the hope of obtaining the sovereignty of the country in case he should -succeed in getting a footing. A large armament was therefore prepared; -but its destination was changed, and instead of recovering Tripoli, the -Capoudan Pasha had orders to proceed to Egypt, and endeavor to restore -that country to its former allegiance; the Mamelukes having succeeded -in establishing there an almost independent authority. - -The Tripoline Princes had been somewhat united by the news of the -projected invasion; but this change in the objects of the Porte, again -set the angry feelings of the brothers in commotion, and a severe -illness with which their father was seized at the time, gave additional -fury to their enmity, by apparently bringing the object of their -discord nearer. As the old Pasha's death was expected, the Bey called -the troops around him, and every avenue to the castle was defended; -Yusuf and Hamet on their parts assembled their followers, and declared -their resolution to overthrow Hassan or perish in the attempt, being -convinced that his success would be the signal of their own -destruction. Their tortured mother prepared to die by her own hands, -rather than witness the dreadful scenes which would ensue on the -decease of her husband. Ali however recovered, and things remained in -the same unsettled state for three years longer; the mutual animosity -of the Princes increasing, and the dread of invasion causing every sail -which appeared, to be regarded with anxiety and suspicion. - -Yusuf had now reached his twentieth year, and had acquired complete -influence over the mind of his father; a quarrel about a servant had -raised a deadly feud between him and Hamet, and the Bey feeling more -confidence from the success of several expeditions, was rendered less -cautious than he should have been. Lilla Halluma made every effort to -produce unity of feeling among them, and at length prevailed upon -Hassan to meet his youngest brother in her apartments. The Bey came -armed only with his sword, and even that defence he was induced to lay -aside, by the representations of his mother. Yusuf appeared also -unarmed, but attended by some of his most devoted black followers; he -embraced his brother, and declaring himself satisfied, called for a -Koran on which to attest the honesty of his purpose. But that was a -signal which his blacks understood, and instead of the sacred volume, -two pistols were placed in his hands; he instantly fired at the -luckless Bey, who was seated next their mother; the ball took -effect--the victim staggered towards his sword--but ere he could reach -it, another shot stretched him on the floor; he turned his dying eyes -towards Lilla Halluma, and erroneously conceiving that she had betrayed -him, exclaimed, "Mother, is this the present you have reserved for your -eldest son!" The infuriated blacks despatched him by an hundred stabs, -in the presence not only of his mother, but also of his wife, whom the -reports of the pistols had brought to the room. Yusuf made his way out -of the castle, offering up as a second victim the venerable Kiah -Abdallah, whom he met with on his passage; he then celebrated the -successful issue of his morning's achievement by a feast. This happened -about the end of July, 1790. - -Hamet was absent when the murder took place, and on his return was -proclaimed Bey, but not until the consent of Yusuf had been obtained, -which the miserable Pasha had been weak enough to require. The two -brothers then swore eternal friendship, accompanying the oath with the -ceremonies considered most solemn on such occasions. But oaths could -have but little weight with men of their respective characters; they -could give no security to Hamet, nor act as restraints upon Yusuf. In a -short time the brothers disagreed; the Bey fortified himself in the -castle, while Yusuf established his quarters in the Messeah, or plain -which lies on one side of the City, and raised the standard of revolt. -A number of discontented Moors and Arabs were soon assembled in his -cause, and he formed a partial siege of the place. - -Meanwhile the Sultan was again at leisure to carry into effect the long -projected plan against the country. A squadron was prepared, and one -Ali-ben-Zool, a notorious pirate, was placed in command, and furnished -with a _firman_ or commission as Pasha. This squadron entered the -harbor of Tripoli on the night of the 29th of July, 1793, and during -the confusion that ensued, the Turks having got possession of the -gates, were in a short time masters of the town. The _firman_ was then -read, and the Pasha was summoned to deliver the castle to the -representative of his sovereign. The poor old man was struck almost -senseless with the news; his wife and family finding that resistance -was impossible escaped, carrying the Pasha more dead than alive out of -the city, where they at first were protected by an Arab tribe. Yusuf -seeing when too late the misery which he had brought on his family, at -length begged forgiveness from his father, and the Princes uniting -their forces, endeavored by an assault on the town to retrieve their -fortunes; but it proved unsuccessful; the Pasha's party was betrayed, -and the Turkish power was for a time established. Every species of -cruelty was then committed by Ali-ben-Zool, for the purpose of -extorting money from the wretched inhabitants, and scenes were acted, -which it would be shocking to relate. The unfortunate Lilla Halluma -soon died of grief; her husband and sons retired to Tunis, where they -were received and generously assisted by the Bey. - -The Porte at length was induced by the cruelties of its agent, to -withdraw its support, and leave was given to the Caramalli family to -regain their dominions. Ten thousand troops accordingly marched from -Tunis in the spring of 1795, under the command of Hamet and Yusuf; ere -they reached Tripoli, Ali-ben-Zool had evacuated the place, and retired -to Egypt. This ruffian was afterwards made Governor of Alexandria in -1803, subsequently to the expulsion of the French, where he pursued the -same course of cruelty and extortion as at Tripoli, until he was at -length murdered by his guards. - -It is not to be supposed that Yusuf took all these pains merely to -establish his brother quietly in Tripoli; the rude soldiery who decide -matters of that kind in Barbary, could not but see a difference between -him and Hamet, which was by no means in favor of the latter. Of this -disposition Yusuf took full advantage, and so ingratiated himself with -the troops, that when at length the news of old Ali's death reached the -city, he was unanimously proclaimed Pasha; his brother, who was absent -at the time, on returning, found the gates closed against him, and -received an order from the new sovereign to retire to the distant -province of Derne, and remain there as Bey. Hamet having no other -resource, went to his place of banishment, and remained there for some -time; but finding that his brother was daily making attempts to destroy -him, he at length in 1797 retired to Tunis, where he was supported by -the Bey. - -The earliest act of Yusuf with regard to foreign intercourse, was the -conclusion of a treaty with the United States, which was signed on the -4th of November, 1796, Joel Barlow then American Consul at Algiers and -Colonel David Humphries, being the agents of the latter party. Its -terms are generally reciprocal; passports are to be given to vessels of -each country by which they are to be known--"As the Government of the -United States is not in any sense founded on the christian religion, -and has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or -tranquillity of Mussulmen, no pretext arising from religious opinions -shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony between the two -countries"--the Pasha acknowledges the receipt of money and presents, -"in consideration for this treaty of perpetual peace and friendship, -and no pretence of any periodical tribute or farther payment is ever to -be made by either party." Finally, the observance of the treaty is -"guarantied by the most potent Dey and Regency of Algiers, and in case -of dispute, no appeal shall be made to arms, but an amicable reference -shall be made to the mutual friend of both parties, the Dey of Algiers, -the parties hereby engaging to abide by his decision." - -To the terms of this treaty it would be difficult to offer any -objection; the United States were anxious that their commerce in the -Mediterranean should be undisturbed; their naval force was inadequate -to its protection, and it was then considered inexpedient to increase -that force. Presents were given in compliance with a custom generally -if not always observed, and it was certainly the more manly course to -have the fact openly stated in the treaty, with the proviso annexed, -that none others were to be expected. The treaty between the United -States and Algiers was on terms less equal, as it contained a -stipulation on the part of the former to pay an annual value of -twenty-one thousand dollars in military stores. - -Thus secured from interruption, the American commerce in the -Mediterranean rapidly increased, and the Tripoline corsairs were daily -tantalized by the sight of large vessels laden with valuable cargoes, -which were to be passed untouched, for no other reason than because -they sailed under the striped flag and carried a piece of parchment -covered with unintelligible characters. This must have been the more -vexatious to the corsairs as they never met with ships of war belonging -to the nation which they were thus required to respect. - -Reports of this nature did not fail to produce their effect upon Yusuf; -his cupidity was excited, and he doubtless feared that his popularity -might suffer, if his subjects were longer prevented from pursuing what -had always been considered a lawful and honorable calling in Barbary. -He had collected a small maritime force, estimated in 1800 at eleven -vessels of various sizes, mounting one hundred and three guns, and thus -considered himself strong enough to give up the further observance of a -treaty with a power which appeared so incapable of enforcing it. In -this idea he was encouraged by his naval officers. The chief of these -was a Scotch renegade, who had been tempted to exchange the kirk for -the mosque, and his homely name of Peter Lyle, with his humble -employment of mate to a trading vessel, for the more sounding title of -Morat Rais, and the substantial appointment of High Admiral of Tripoli. -Rais Peter is represented by all who knew him as destitute of real -talent, but possessing in its stead much of that pliability of -disposition which is supposed to form an essential characteristic of -his countrymen; however that may have been, he for some time enjoyed -great credit with the Pasha, and employed it as far as he could against -the interests of the United States. Whether this arose from any -particular enmity, or from the hope of enjoying a share of the -anticipated spoil, is uncertain; but to his influence was mainly -ascribed the proceedings which led to a rupture of the peace. Another -abettor of the war was the Vice Admiral Rais Amor Shelly, a desperate -ruffian, who was most anxious to be engaged where there was such -evident promise of gain. Hamet Rais, the minister of marine, was of the -same opinion, and probably of all his councillors, Yusuf placed the -greatest confidence in him; he is represented as a man of great -sagacity and energy--such indeed, that Lord Nelson thought proper in -1798, to send a ship of the line, with a most overbearing letter, -demanding his exile, which the Pasha promised, but after the departure -of the ship thought no more about it. The only friend of the United -States in the regency, was the Prime Minister Mahomet d'Ghies, whom -every account represents as an honorable and enlightened gentleman. - -Thus fortified by the assurances of his counsellors, and farther -induced by his success in bringing Sweden to his terms, Yusuf commenced -his proceedings against the United States in 1799, by making -requisitions of their consul; these were resisted, and to a proposal -from Mr. Cathcart (the consul) that reference should be made to the Dey -of Algiers, as provided in such cases by the treaty, the Pasha replied -that he no longer regarded the stipulations of that convention. His -intentions became more clearly defined in the ensuing year, when Rais -Shelly returned from a cruise, with an American brig, which he had -brought in under pretence of irregularity in her papers; she was indeed -restored, but not until after long delay and the commission of -numberless acts of petty extortion, accompanied by hints that such -lenity would not be again displayed. Considerable time having elapsed -without any answer from the United States, the consul was informed that -the treaty with his country was at an end; that the Pasha demanded two -hundred and fifty thousand dollars as the price of a new one; and that -it must contain an engagement on the part of the United States, to pay -an annual tribute of twenty-five thousand dollars for its continuance. -No reply having been made to this, war was formally declared by Tripoli -on the 11th of May, 1801, the American flag staff was cut down by the -Pasha's orders on the 14th, and Mr. Cathcart left the place a few days -after. - -A swarm of cruisers instantly issued from the port of Tripoli, and -spread themselves over every part of the Mediterranean; two of them -under Morat Rais arrived at Gibraltar, with the intention of even -braving the perils of the unknown Atlantic, in search of American -vessels. In the course of a few weeks five prizes were taken by the -corsairs; but the consul of the United States had long foreseen the -danger, and given timely warning, so that interruption of their -commerce was almost the only evil afterwards suffered. - -As soon as the news of these exactions arrived in Washington, President -Jefferson caused a squadron, composed of three frigates and a sloop of -war, to be fitted out and despatched to the Mediterranean, under -Commodore Dale; it entered that sea about the end of June, 1801, and -was probably the first American armed force seen in its waters. This -squadron was sent with the hope that its display would be alone -sufficient to bring the Pasha back to the observance of the treaty; the -Commodore was therefore instructed to act with great caution, so as to -repress rather than provoke hostilities; and he was made the bearer of -letters to each of the Barbary sovereigns, couched in the most amicable -terms and disclaiming all warlike intentions. The squadron touched -first at Tunis, where its appearance somewhat softened the Bey, who had -begun the same system of exactions from the American consul; it then -sailed for Tripoli, before which it appeared on the 24th of July. - -The sight of such a force was very disquieting to Yusuf, who sent a -messenger on board to learn what were its objects. The Commodore -replied by asking what were the Pasha's views in declaring war, and on -what principles he expected to make peace? To this Yusuf endeavored to -evade giving a direct answer, and he hinted that his principal cause of -complaint was the dependence on Algiers implied by the terms of the -first and the last articles of the treaty, which he considered -humiliating. The American commander not being empowered to negotiate, -remained for some days blockading the harbor, until having learnt that -several cruisers were out, he thought proper to go in search of them. -One only was encountered, a ship of fourteen guns, commanded by Rais -Mahomet Sous, which after an action of three hours, on the 1st of -August, with the schooner Enterprize, struck her colours; the Americans -lost not a man, the Tripolines had nearly half their crew killed or -wounded. As orders had been given to make no prizes, the cruiser was -dismantled, and her captain directed to inform the Pasha, that such -"was the only tribute he would receive from the United States." -Notwithstanding the desperate valor displayed in this action by the -Tripolines, Yusuf thought proper to ascribe the result to cowardice on -the part of the commander; and poor Mahomet Sous, after having been -paraded through the streets of the city on an ass, exposed to the -insults of the mob, received five hundred strokes of the bastinado. -This piece of injustice and cruelty however, produced an effect the -reverse of that which was intended; for after it, no captain could be -induced to put to sea, and those who were out already, on learning the -treatment experienced by their comrade, took refuge from the Americans -and the Pasha, for the most part among the islands of the Archipelago. -The two largest vessels which had been arrested at Gibraltar on their -way to the Atlantic, by the appearance of the United States' squadron, -were laid up at that place, their crews passing over into Morocco. - -The American commerce being thus for the time secured from -interruption, a portion of the squadron returned to the United States; -the remainder passed the winter in the Mediterranean, and were joined -in the ensuing spring (1802) by other ships. Nothing however was -attempted towards a conclusion of the difficulties with Tripoli by any -decisive blow; the American agents in the other Barbary states were -instructed to procure peace if possible, on condition of paying an -annual tribute; and partial negotiations were carried on, principally -through the mediation of the Bey of Tunis. They however proved -ineffectual, as Yusuf demanded an amount far beyond that which the -American government proposed. The operations of the squadron were -limited to mere demonstrations; a simple display of force being -considered preferable to active measures. On one occasion however, the -Constellation frigate, while cruising off the harbor of Tripoli, was -suddenly becalmed, and in this defenceless situation, was attacked by a -number of Tripoline gun-boats; their fires would soon have reduced her -to a wreck, had not a breeze fortunately sprung up, which enabled her -to choose her position; several of the gun-boats having been then -quickly destroyed, the remainder were forced to retreat into port. - -The system of caution and forbearance by which the foreign policy of -the American government was then regulated, renders the history of its -transactions in the Mediterranean during the first four years of this -century by no means flattering to the national pride. There was a -disposition to negotiate and to purchase peace, rather than boldly to -enforce it, which must have been most galling to the brave spirits who -were thus obliged to remain inactive; and it certainly encouraged the -Barbary governments in the opinion that the Americans were disposed to -accept the more humiliating of the two alternatives, paying or -fighting, which they offered to all other nations. It would not perhaps -be just at present to censure this patient policy; the institutions of -the country were then by no means firmly established, and the utmost -circumspection was necessary in the management and disposition of its -resources. There was also great reason to apprehend that a decided -attack on one of the Barbary powers, would produce a coalition of the -whole, aided by Turkey, which might have given a blow, severe and -perhaps fatal, to the commerce of the United States in the -Mediterranean. The Americans may however at least rejoice, that a more -dignified system can now with assurance be pursued, in the conduct of -all their affairs with foreign nations. - - * * * * * - -The length of this article renders its conclusion in the present number -inconvenient; the remainder will appear in our next. - - - - -REVIEW - -of Governor Tazewell's Report to the Legislature of Virginia, on the -Deaf and Dumb Asylum. - - -The late Chief Magistrate of Virginia, Governor Floyd, in his message -of December, 1833, called the attention of the Legislature to the -condition of that unfortunate race of beings for whom it has been -reserved, under Providence, to the present age, to provide a suitable -system of instruction, by which they should be elevated to the -condition of moral and accountable creatures. The Governor says: "The -deaf, and dumb, and the blind, are objects of sympathy with all classes -of society, and from which no family can claim exemption. An asylum for -these unfortunate beings is suggested, where proper attention and -instruction can be given at public expense--where they can be taught to -read and write, and learn something of the useful arts; where even the -blind can be taught something to alleviate the long and wearisome night -which is allotted to them. I appeal to you in their behalf with the -more confidence, as it is a subject which stands wholly unconnected -with the business of life, from which they are excluded; and without -voice, like the eloquence of the spheres, applies to the heart of all, -from which they will not be spurned by the good and the just." - -These humane and benevolent suggestions were referred, by special -resolution, to the Committee of Schools and Colleges, by which -committee a very able report was made on the subject to the House of -Delegates, concluding with a resolution, "that it was expedient and -highly important to provide immediately for the establishment and -endowment of an asylum for the deaf and dumb of the state of Virginia." - -At the same session of the Legislature, it appears that a memorial was -presented by the trustees of the deaf and dumb asylum at Staunton, an -association incorporated in March 1833, setting forth that sufficient -funds had been provided to purchase a suitable site for a building--and -praying that the Legislature would make an annual appropriation in aid -of their benevolent purposes. This memorial is written with ability, -and presents in a strong light the necessity of some legislative action -on the subject. The Legislature, it seems however, was not prepared to -act definitively, even with all the lights before them; but as if -unwilling that an object so vastly important, and involving so many -high considerations, should entirely be lost sight of,--the House of -Delegates, a few days before the close of the session, adopted a -resolution requesting the Governor "to communicate to the General -Assembly at its next session such facts and views as he might deem -pertinent and useful, relative to the best plan, the appropriate -extent, the most suitable organization, and the probable cost of an -institution for the instruction of the deaf and dumb, to be located in -some healthy and convenient situation in this state; and that he be -further requested to accompany his communication by such information as -he might be able to impart relative to similar institutions in other -states, together with an estimate of the probable number of the deaf -and dumb who would repair to such an institution, to be located within -the limits of this Commonwealth." - -In compliance with this resolution, Governor Tazewell, whose term of -office commenced on the 31st of March last, made a report to the -Legislature at its present session--a report which we regret to say is -entirely at variance with all the views heretofore entertained on this -interesting subject--a report which, so far as such high authority can -wield an influence, is calculated to repress the efforts of the friends -of humanity in the prosecution of so noble a cause. We shall examine -this document with the respect which is due to the high character and -eminent talents of its author--at the same time with that freedom which -belongs to the right of discussion--especially when we believe that the -interests of humanity are deeply concerned in the issue. - -The report, after a few preliminary remarks, sets out as follows: "In -differing from those who may be in favor of establishing within this -state a seminary for the education of the deaf and dumb _at this time_, -I hope I shall not be considered by any as being opposed to the -accomplishment of an object so truly benevolent in its character. The -very reverse of this is the fact. It is only because I ardently desire -to see this laudable object attained by the best means practicable, -that I do not concur with those who may desire to effect it by the -creation of such an institution within this Commonwealth _at this -time_." Now with great deference to his Excellency, we humbly conceive -that all the reasons which he assigns against the establishment or -endowment of an asylum _at this time_, apply with equal force to any -_other time_. If there be any force in his arguments, they will -continue to operate, at least in a very essential degree, _for a long -period of years_. What are his reasons? - -"Schools for the instruction of the deaf and dumb differ from all other -seminaries of education in this particular--that they can never -prosper, except by means which may suffice to bring together, at one -point, a sufficient number of pupils to commune with each other in -their own peculiar mode, and to concentrate the interest necessary to -be felt, and the efforts necessary to be used by those engaged in their -instruction. No expense can accomplish the desired object, unless by -the attainment of these means. Then, the question seems to be resolved -into this: Can the Legislature of Virginia reasonably promise itself, -that by the employment of any means which it ought to use, it may -concentrate at any point within this state, sufficient inducements to -draw thither the proper number of such pupils and of such instructers? -I do not think this can be done." - -We shall forbear answering this part of his Excellency's report, which -we think is very easily done, until we spread still more of his reasons -before the reader. - -"The whole number of white persons in Virginia, of all ages, who were -deaf and dumb, is shown by the last census to have been then four -hundred and twenty-two only. The annual increase of such unfortunates -(as shown by the calculations made upon the population of other -countries less favorably situated in this respect than Virginia,) does -not amount to more than about fifteen in a million--a number -approaching so nearly to the annual decrease by natural causes, that -the annual augmentation here must be very small indeed. Of the whole -number of deaf and dumb in any state, even in those where the most -liberal means have been employed to attract to their long established -asylums all of that class who might be induced to resort thither, the -proportion does not exceed one fifteenth. Thus in Connecticut, where -the number of mutes, as shewn by the last census, was two hundred and -ninety-five, there were not at their asylum, according to the last -report of that institution which I have seen, more than eighteen -persons of that number; and this after a period of sixteen years had -elapsed since the commencement of this establishment. Yet in -Connecticut the population is dense, and the inducements held out to -send all their deaf and dumb to this asylum are very great indeed. So -too in Pennsylvania, where the last census shews the whole number of -mutes to have been seven hundred and twelve, the number of these at -their excellent asylum, according to the last report, was only -forty-eight, after this seminary had been opened fourteen years. - -"If then," continues the Governor, "in Connecticut, where there are two -hundred and ninety-five mutes, there cannot be collected at such an -institution, after sixteen years, more than eighteen of that number; -and if in Pennsylvania, where the number of mutes is seven hundred and -twelve, only forty-eight of that number can be induced to avail -themselves of the advantages held out by its admirable institution, -after ---- years; it is unreasonable to suppose that the sparse -population of Virginia could supply a sufficient number of pupils to -attain the great object had in view by the establishment of a seminary -here like that proposed. For it must not be overlooked, that the supply -of pupils to every school will bear some proportion to the expense of -maintaining them while there, and that in older institutions, this -expense will be necessarily much less than in those of more recent -origin." - -The Governor would have shed much more light upon this branch of the -subject, if he had expressed his opinion as to the precise number of -pupils which it was necessary to bring together, in order that they -might "commune with each other in their own peculiar mode;" and which, -according to his view of the subject, is necessary to the existence and -prosperity of all such institutions. That opinion however he has not -indicated; but has left us to infer that as not more than one in -fifteen has ever been induced, according to the experience of other -institutions, to resort to them for instruction, even by the employment -of the most liberal means,--that proportion of the whole number of free -white deaf mutes in Virginia, would not be sufficient to justify the -commencement of such an establishment here. One fifteenth of the whole -number in Virginia, at the last census, would be twenty-eight. That -number, however, will not suffice, and we must wait longer. How long, -it is impossible to tell--inasmuch as from his Excellency's reasoning, -the increase must be very inconsiderable--being not more than at the -rate of sixteen annually for every million of inhabitants; and from -this must be deducted the decrease from natural causes. Let us suppose -then that the annual increase in Virginia is sixteen, and that the -annual decrease is twelve, leaving a yearly increment of four to the -whole number in the state. Now as, according to Governor Tazewell's -views, not more than one in fifteen of the whole number can be induced -to attend a school of instruction, it requires not the aid of Cocker to -demonstrate that several years must elapse before even an additional -pupil can be added to the twenty-eight above stated. Candor compels us -therefore to declare that we think this part of his Excellency's report -very unsound in its reasoning. He seems to have founded his argument -upon the supposition that the deaf and dumb pupils to be educated at -the proposed asylum in Virginia, are to be maintained from their own -resources, or the private liberality of their friends; whereas, the -very object of applying for Legislative aid, is to enable many of these -indigent children of misfortune to obtain instruction at the public -expense. If this was not the ground of the Governor's reasoning, why -does he suppose that not more than one-fifteenth of the whole number of -deaf mutes could be induced to resort to a seminary for instruction? -Does he mean that a larger proportion could not be obtained if the -public expense were proffered for their education and subsistence? If -he does, then we humbly think that his Excellency is most egregiously -mistaken. - -Strange as it may seem however, whilst the Governor in the part of his -report which we have quoted, seems to reason upon the idea that -Legislative aid is desired for the sole purpose of endowing an asylum -at the commencement, and that the annual cost of supporting and -educating the pupils is to be drawn from private sources,--he -nevertheless suggests as the preferable mode, that the Legislature -should annually appropriate a sufficient sum for the maintenance of a -given number of pupils at the institutions of Connecticut or -Pennsylvania. Let him speak in his own language: - -"If the benevolent purpose of instructing the deaf and dumb be the -great object of those who desire the establishment of a seminary of -this kind in Virginia at this time, the principal question must be, by -what means can such an object be best attained? The considerations I -have mentioned will probably suffice to shew, that much proficiency -cannot reasonably be expected from a school of this kind created here -now, nor for many years yet to come, except at a cost to the public -very far exceeding any public benefit that could possibly be derived -from it. The benevolence of the object might perhaps justify such an -expenditure for its accomplishment, if no other means existed. But when -other means are open, by which the same benevolent purpose may be -attained, even better, and at much less expense, it seems difficult to -assign any reason why the better and cheaper mode should not be -preferred. This better mode seems to me to be, to appropriate a portion -of the sum it must require to create and to perpetuate such an -establishment here, to the advancement of the same object in some other -seminary already established in one of the other states. All the -eastern states (except Rhode Island, I believe,) have pursued this -course in regard to the seminary at Hartford, in Connecticut; and I -understand that New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland have adopted the same -plan with respect to the seminary in Pennsylvania." - -In what way, let us ask, is this annual appropriation which the -Governor recommends, to be expended? Upon the indigent of course--upon -those to whose intellectual night the providence of God has superadded -the gloom of poverty; and these objects of public sympathy and bounty -are to be selected we presume from various parts of the commonwealth, -according to some equitable rule hereafter to be established. Now we -humbly think, that whatever inducements could prevail upon the friends -of these unfortunates, to send them from three to five hundred miles -abroad, in order to partake of the state's charity, would operate with -much greater force if the place of their destination were somewhere -within our own limits. Of this fact we presume there can be no -question. The father or guardian of an indigent deaf mute in one of the -border counties of this commonwealth, would vastly prefer Richmond, -Staunton or Charlottesville as the place of his education, to either of -the cities of Philadelphia or Hartford. There are, moreover, many -strong and obvious reasons why a _state institution_ should be -patronized, in preference to any other. The public funds would be -expended on our own soil, and among our own population. The state would -be even richer, by the introduction among us of that peculiar science, -which reveals the mysterious intercourse of human minds deprived of the -usual inlets to the understanding. The Governor himself seems to be -aware that the encouragement of every good thing among ourselves, -rather than to be dependent upon others for their enjoyment, is an -honest, natural and patriotic prejudice; and accordingly he takes some -pains to encounter and overthrow it. Hear him. - -"Although I will not admit that there is a single citizen within the -limits of Virginia more desirous than I am to domesticate here every -thing needful to the well being of the state, yet I neither consider -many of what are called modern improvements as coming within this -description, nor do I regard it as wise to attempt such domestication -prematurely. It is among the wise dispensations of Providence, that all -things really necessary to man are placed within the grasp of every -community composed of men, and that much of what is not necessary, but -convenient only, is of easy acquisition in every civilized society. But -when you ascend higher in the scale, and seek to teach or to learn all -the sublime and long hidden truths of modern science, it is perhaps -fortunate for our race that there are not many any where who feel the -inclination to become scholars, and very few indeed who are qualified -to teach such lessons. Such science may truly say she is of no country; -for no single country on the habitable globe could fill the chairs of -the instructers, or the forms of the pupils. Accident generally lays -the foundation of such seminaries, and the contributions of the -civilized world are required to erect and preserve the edifice. Does -any country grudge to pay her quota to the common stock, or seek to -pluck from the wing of science the particular feather which such -country may claim as her own?--each will do so in its turn--and the -bird which might have soared to a sightless height, when stripped of -its plumage, will but flutter on the surface, unable to wing her way on -high." - -Now we confess that we do not understand to our entire satisfaction -this extract from the report. The figure of the bird with the plucked -plumage, neither strikes us as in very good taste nor very -intelligible; but as we have more to do with his Excellency's arguments -than his rhetoric, we shall leave the latter to those who are better -skilled than we are in following "the mazes of metaphorical confusion." -The governor proceeds: - -"If this is the case with science, in what may now be considered its -higher departments, how much stronger is the appeal humanity makes in -favor of benevolence and christian charity. These are of no country, -certainly. They but sojourn on earth, teaching frail man to do his duty -to his maker, in providing for the wants of his unfortunate fellows, so -far as is practicable. To them it must be of little consequence indeed, -whether the mute by nature is made a rational being by arts employed in -his education, either in one place or another. So far as regards the -unfortunate mute, the only inquiry is, where can he be best taught? The -only inquiry of the benevolent ought to be, where can he be so taught -at the least cost? This last is an inquiry suggested not less by -benevolence than the former; for as the means of even charity are -necessarily limited, that application of them is best which promises to -do the greatest good with the least expenditure. - -"To all this let me add, that if there is any thing better calculated -than any other to cement our union, and to keep bright the chain which -I trust will bind these states together while time lasts, it will be -found in the contributions of each to the advancement of objects -approved by all, without any jealous regard to the actual spot at which -such a general good may commence. If a generous spirit of this sort is -but once manifested, its effects will be soon seen and felt by all. -Acts of kindness will not fail to induce forbearance and to generate -sympathy. When each state shall feel, that for the aid it requires to -accomplish any object of general utility, it may rely confidently on -its co-states, there will be no more applications to the federal -government to pervert the language of the constitution, in order to -accomplish the unholy scheme of robbing a minority to enrich a -majority. Then, those who contend but for the spoils of the vanquished, -may be safely left to the contempt which such a motive cannot fail to -inspire with all the generous and the good. It would have been worthy -of Virginia to set such an example: it is worthy of her to imitate that -which others have already taught." - -It is in these passages that we think lurks the fallacy, and we might -add, the mischief of the Governor's views. He sets out first by -deprecating all legislative interference on the subject. "Let us alone" -is his cardinal maxim, and the maxim of the school of political -economists to which he belongs.--Let individuals take care of -themselves and of each other, but let not government presume to thrust -its paternal care upon the community. In the next place, however, if -the State, according to his Excellency's notions, will officiously -obtrude into these private matters--why then let the funds of the -Commonwealth go abroad and enrich some sister State.--These kind -offices will brighten the chain of union which binds the States -together. They will teach us all to rely more upon each other, and less -upon the general government. This is the sum and substance of the -Governor's reasoning; and dangerous and fallacious as we believe it to -be, we feel the stronger obligation, coming from the high quarter it -does, to resist and refute it if we can. It may be justly asked, if -there be any thing sound in this specious appeal to the generous -feelings of the States, why have not the States carried out the -doctrine themselves? Why has North Carolina for example, proverbially -styled the Rip Van Winkle of the South, been so blind to her own -interests and duty, as not to send her deaf and dumb children to -Hartford, instead of erecting an asylum at home? Why have Ohio and -Kentucky been guilty of the similar folly of founding institutions -themselves? We think we can answer these questions in the only way in -which they can be answered, and that is, that these younger -States--these (for the most part) daughters of the Old Dominion, are -wiser in their generation than their venerable mother. They have -discerned their true interests, in fostering their own establishments. -Did any one ever dream that Kentucky had given cause of offence to her -sister States, by erecting an asylum for the poor mutes? We apprehend -not. The truth is, that his Excellency the Governor, is entirely -mistaken in his views upon this subject. State pride,--State -sovereignty,--State independence,--jealousy of the federal -government,--whatever you please to call it, is best preserved by each -individual State taking care of its own resources, and building up its -own establishments. What a ridiculous business it would be, if -twenty-four families in the same neighborhood, were to act upon the -principle that each was to take care of all the rest in preference to -itself? How will the twenty-four States ever be strong, unless each -State will attend particularly to the developement of its own latent -powers and capacities--unless each will apply its own energies for its -own benefit? Pursue the Governor's doctrine to all its remote -consequences, and see to what absurdities we are driven. The University -of Virginia was a most palpable violation of the courtesy and good -feeling due to our sister States. Besides, according to his Excellency, -would it not have been _cheaper_ to send our sons as usual to -Cambridge, and Princeton, and Yale, rather than incur the enormous -expense of erecting a splendid establishment from the State Treasury? -The University, by the way, furnishes a very strong case, favoring, in -many of the views in which it may be regarded, the positions and -doctrines of Governor Tazewell; yet what Virginian regrets even the -lavish expenditure by which that institution has been endowed?--Who -does not rather rejoice, that in his native State, at the base of -Monticello, the domes of science have been reared, to scatter its light -to the present and future generations? - -The truth is, and most melancholy is the truth, that many of our -leading men in Virginia, perhaps the far greater number, are inclined -to acquiesce in this fatal doctrine of State apathy--this most -paralyzing policy of passive inertness,--whilst the world at large, and -many other portions of the Union, are marching in advance of us, with a -celerity which defies calculation. Governor Tazewell might well have -applied his figure of the bird despoiled of its plumage, to our poor, -old and venerable mother. Her daughters, and sisters, and -brothers--almost the whole family--no doubt with the best intentions in -the world--are practising, in one way or other, on the old lady's kind -feelings and generous principles. Our worthy and excellent friends East -of the Hudson, send us their notions--their long provender, their -vegetables and brooms, and beg us, by all means, to buy them, because -it is _cheaper_ to do so, than to divert our labor from our valuable -staples. They send us also their excellent cottons, and other fabrics -of their looms, which we take liberally, although we have a good deal -of surplus labor, and the finest water power in the Union.--Our near -neighbor and almost twin sister Maryland, is pushing, with a degree of -enterprise which does her credit, her internal improvements into the -heart of our own territory--and we----we have too much grace and -politeness to say to her, that it is rather an intrusion. Our most -filial and amiable daughters to the West, send to us their hogs, horses -and cattle--and we pay them, at least so says the buyer, most -tremendous prices. All these drains from our prosperity, and many more -which might be enumerated, we submit to, with a degree of patience and -composed resignation that even Job might have envied. Our Eagle is -indeed stripped of its plumage, to adorn others more fearless and -adventurous on the wing. - -But to return to the Report. The Governor thinking it probable that the -Legislature might not concur in his views, either to give the whole -subject of a deaf and dumb asylum the go-by, or to adopt the -alternative of sending the indigent pupils into other States, presents -various views touching the management of such institutions--the general -correctness of which we are not disposed to question. At one thing, -however, we are somewhat surprised, and that is, that his Excellency -seems not to have been aware of the existence within this State, of an -incorporated asylum, prepared to go into operation whensoever the -public shall extend its patronage. The Report seems to have been -founded upon a voluminous mass of documents, which are deposited in the -public library, for the use of the Legislature. Not having access to -them, we shall content ourselves with a reference to such others as lay -within our reach, in order to present, in a few strong lights, the -importance and necessity of such an institution in Virginia. - -At the session of 1825-'6, Governor Pleasants communicated to the -Legislature the first annual report of the trustees of the Kentucky -institution, and also the ninth annual report of the Hartford Asylum. -The first mentioned document is particularly important, inasmuch as it -exhibits at once the success which attended a _first experiment_, under -circumstances extremely disadvantageous. The report of the trustees -made to the Kentucky Legislature was referred to a joint committee of -the two Houses,--who visited the asylum at Danville, and who, among -other things, stated, on their return, "that they were greatly -gratified in witnessing the progress made by the pupils, whose facility -and correctness in comprehending the signs made by the teacher, and -expressing their ideas, exceeded any thing that could have been -anticipated by the most sanguine friends of the institution." They -further state the following extraordinary facts, which ought at once to -dispel all prejudice, and unite all hearts in support of a system of -instruction, attended by such beneficent results. "All those who had -been instructed in the asylum for FOUR MONTHS, _wrote good hands, -spelled correctly, and answered promptly and correctly, numerous -questions that were proposed to them by the teacher and members of the -committee_." It also appears that the whole number of pupils, at the -end of the first year, was only twenty-one--a number, which, according -to Governor Tazewell's theory, is not sufficient for the purpose of -mutual communion, in their peculiar mode--but which, in the instance -before us, would seem to establish the very reverse of that -proposition. - -The report from the Hartford Asylum, which is dated in 1825, is -particularly interesting, as furnishing extraordinary proofs of the -progress of the pupils, both in moral and intellectual attainments. We -think, if Governor Tazewell had been so fortunate as to light upon this -document, he would scarcely have urged as a reason for _postponing_ an -asylum in Virginia, that the science of instructing the deaf mute was -continually advancing, and was likely to be more perfect some years -hence than at present. Doubtless this peculiar and valuable art will -improve, and so will many other branches of knowledge which are even -now in a highly advanced state. Natural history, chemistry, and the -physical sciences generally, are constantly enlarging their boundaries, -and extending their acquisitions--but shall we, on that account, remain -in ignorance of what they _now_ teach, in the vain hope that by and by -they will reach the maximum of perfection? Strange doctrine truly! - -We have already referred to the memorial of the trustees of the -Staunton institution, and the report of the committee of schools and -colleges--both of which interesting papers will be found among the -printed legislative documents of last winter, and ought to be reprinted -for distribution among the members of that body, now in session. We -hope that the Legislature will take the subject into its speedy and -earnest consideration, and that, in the language of the Kentucky -report, they will hearken to the "claims of those whom God, in the -mysterious dispensations of his providence, has deprived of the faculty -of hearing and of speech; of whom an eloquent divine has said, 'silence -like theirs is eloquence.'" - - - - -COLONIAL MANNERS. - -A picture of the House of Burgesses of Maryland in 1766. - - -We have been politely favored with the sight of a letter from _an -illustrious philosopher and statesman_, written at Annapolis on the -25th May, 1766, to his friend in Virginia, from which we make the -subjoined curious extract. It is no less instructive than amusing to -trace the progress of society from its rude and simple beginnings, to -that more perfect form produced by civilization and refinement. It may -be doubted however, whether the degree of decorum prevailing in the -legislative body of a country, furnishes more than an imperfect index -to the state of public manners. We will venture to assert that in 1766, -the very year when the Burgesses of Maryland are represented as no -better than a "mob," the Colonial Assembly of Virginia exhibited as -fine a picture of gravity and dignity as could be well conceived; and -yet we have no reason to believe that the people of Maryland at that -day were less civilized than their brethren south of the Potomac. -Perfectly aware as we are of the faults of our countrymen, we have -nevertheless always contended that the Virginians are the most -remarkable people in the world for the observance of a certain peculiar -affability towards each other, not only in their public bodies, but in -private intercourse. We mean Virginians of the genuine old stock--not -the new race who have sprung up among us like mushrooms, and are trying -to introduce an awkward imitation of European customs. These latter are -some of them weak enough to think that the sudden acquisition of -fortune, without merit on their part, or a voyage or two to London or -Paris, are of themselves sufficient to constitute a finished gentleman. -Real refinement is founded upon good sense, and upon kindness and good -will towards our fellow man, and never can co-exist with purse-proud -arrogance or conceited vanity. - -In reference to our public assemblies, it is a common remark, and we -have no doubt a just one, that there is more order, decorum and dignity -in the Virginia Legislature, than in the House of Representatives of -the United States. In the latter body the members sit with their hats -on, write letters and read newspapers, whilst one of their members is -addressing the chair, or the speaker is putting the question. Such -disorder is rarely seen in the Capitol of the Old Dominion. - - * * * * * - -----"I will now give you some account of what I have seen in this -metropolis. The Assembly happens to be sitting at this time; their -upper and lower house as they call them, sit in different houses. I -went into the lower, sitting in an old courthouse, which judging from -its form and appearance, was built in the year one. I was surprised on -approaching it, to hear as great a noise and hubbub as you will usually -observe at a public meeting of the planters in Virginia. The first -object which struck me after my entrance, was the figure of a little -old man, dressed but indifferently, with a yellow queue wig on, and -mounted in the judge's chair. This, the gentleman who walked with me, -informed me was the speaker, a man of a very fair character, but who, -by the by, has very little the air of a speaker. At one end of the -justices' bench stood a man whom in another place I should, from his -dress and phiz, have taken for Goodall the lawyer in Williamsburg, -reading a bill then before the house with a schoolboy tone, and an -abrupt pause at every half dozen words. This I found to be the clerk of -the Assembly. The mob (for such was their appearance) sat covered on -the justices' and lawyers' benches, and were divided into little clubs, -amusing themselves in the common chitchat way. I was surprised to see -them address the speaker without rising from their seats, and three, -four and five at a time, without being checked. When a motion was made, -the speaker, instead of putting the question in the usual form, only -asked the gentlemen whether they chose that such or such a thing should -be done, and was answered by a yes sir, or no sir; and though the -voices appeared frequently to be divided, they never would go to the -trouble of dividing the house; but the clerk entered the resolutions, I -supposed, as he thought proper. In short, every thing seems to be -carried without the house in general knowing what was proposed." - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -WESTERN SCENERY. - -EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM A WESTERN TRAVELLER. - - -We had rode about a mile, when my guide said, that if I was willing to -go a hundred yards out of the way, he could show me something worth -seeing. I no sooner assented to this, than he cast around him his keen -woodsman's glance, and then, turning his horse in a direction slightly -diverging from the road, struck into the woods. I followed, and -presently observed that we were pursuing a course nearly parallel to -what seemed to be a precipice, beyond the verge of which I caught -glimpses of a vast extent of country. Without allowing me time to see -any thing distinctly, my guide pushed on, and, spurring to the top of -an Indian barrow, placed himself and me at the desired point of view. - -We were on the spot that overlooks the confluence of Salt River with -the Mississippi. Having once travelled an hundred miles to see the -Natural Bridge, and having heard from Mr. Jefferson that that sight was -worthy of a voyage across the Atlantic, I certainly did not grudge the -price I had paid for the view that opened on me. - -The confluence of the rivers is nearly at right angles. The hill -descends with equal abruptness towards each, and, at first glance, the -apex seems to overhang the water of each. But this is not so. The -descent, perhaps, wants two or three degrees of perpendicularity, and, -at the bottom, there is a narrow border of low-ground, fringing the -banks with lofty trees. The appearance of these trees gave the only -measure of the height of the hill. To the eye they might be bushes. My -guide assured me they were of the tallest growth. - -To the East, across the Mississippi, lay what is called _Howard's -bottom_. This is, as its name imports, a body of low ground. Its width -is said to be, in some places, not less than six miles, and to be -nearly uniform for a distance of sixty. Of this I could not judge. It -seemed that it might be so. I was nearly opposite the middle of it, and -overlooking the whole. Next the water was a border of the most -luxuriant forest, apparently some half a mile in width, and beyond -this, a Prairie reaching to the foot of the hills, interspersed with -masses of forest, and groves, and stumps, and single trees, among -which, here and there, were glittering glimpses of the _Chenaille -ecartee_, which traverses the whole length of it. You, who know the -vesture in which nature clothes these fertile plains, need not be told -how rich and soft was the beautiful picture thus spread beneath my -feet. Its _setting_ was not less remarkable. This was a perpendicular -wall of limestone, two or three hundred feet high, which bounds the -valley on the East. An occasional gap, affording an outlet to the -country beyond, alone broke the continuity of this barrier. To the -North, lay the extensive plain through which Salt River winds. I have -no idea of its extent. It is a vast amphitheatre, surrounded by lofty -and richly-wooded hills. The plain itself is of wood and Prairie -interspersed, and so blended, that every tree seems placed for effect. - -You are not to suppose, because I do not launch out in florid -declamation about the beauty, and grandeur, and magnificence, and all -that, of this scene, that it was less striking than you would naturally -suppose it must be. You know that I have neither talent nor taste for -_fine writing_, so you must take the picture as I give it, and draw on -your own imagination for the garniture. I have said nothing of the -rivers, but to tell you they were there, and flowing through a -landscape of many hundred thousand acres of the richest land on earth, -with the most beautifully variegated surface, all spread out under my -feet. I felt that the scene was sublime; and it is well for your -patience, that I have learned that sublime things are best described in -fewest words. It is certainly the finest I ever saw. There may be -others equal to it, but the earth does not afford _room_ for _many_ -such. What will it be, when it becomes "a living landscape of groves -and corn-fields, and the abodes of men?" As it is, if the warrior, on -whose tomb I stood, could raise his head, he would see it in nothing -changed from what it was when his last sun set upon it. - - - - -THOM'S GROUP OF STATUARY, - -FROM BURNS'S TAM O'SHANTER. - - -These remarkable specimens of sculpture, have been recently exhibited -in this city, and have attracted, we believe, universal admiration. The -artist is a native of Ayrshire, Scotland,--which also gave birth to the -Immortal Bard, whose conceptions are so happily illustrated by the -genius of the sculptor. Not pretending ourselves to any of those -mysterious capabilities, which are claimed by _connoiseurs_ and -_amateurs_, to judge of the productions of art; we rely upon our simple -perceptions of what is both true and excellent, in their design and -execution. The following is the passage from Burns, which the artist -has chosen in order to give visible and tangible form to the poet's -fancy: - - Ae market night, - Tam had got planted unco right, - Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, - Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; - And at his elbow Souter Johnny, - His ancient trusty, drouthy crony: - Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; - They had been fou for weeks thegither. - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, - And aye the ale was growin' better: - The landlady and Tam grew gracious, - Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: - The Souter tauld his queerest stories, - The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: - The storm without might rair and rustle, - Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. - -Never perhaps, as is well observed by a political journal in this city, -was the genius of art so truly impressed upon stone, as in the present -instance,--to represent human bodies in a state of petrifaction. A -reader of Romance, would almost imagine that the wand of enchantment -had passed over the merry group, and had frozen the currents of -life--without disturbing the mirth, enlivened feature, the arch and -humorous look,--or the easy and careless attitudes of nature. We admire -the productions of the great masters of modern times, or, of classical -antiquity--but, whilst we gaze, we never once even _imagine_ that the -promethean spark might have animated the marble. Belonging, as most of -them do, to the _ideal_ schools of sculpture--imbodying all that is -fair and beautiful, in the artist's conception; rather than what is -absolutely true in the visible forms of nature,--they do not strike us -with the same irresistible force, or so instantly seize upon our -feelings--as does the rude, simple, but faithful sculpture of this -unlettered and inexperienced Scottish stone-cutter. Considering that -Mr. Thom was entirely ignorant of the rules of his art,--that he had -not even the advantage of first modelling his productions in -clay,--that the group from Tam O'Shanter is among his first efforts, -and that each of these fine pieces, was hewn at once out of the -shapeless stone, without the power of correcting the mistakes of his -chisel as he proceeded,--the mind is lost in wonder at the vigor and -originality of his genius. Such a man is worthy the birthplace of -Robert Burns,--who little thought whilst he was sketching the -hilarities of the ale-house, that one of his countrymen would so soon -arise to present in the forms and models of a sister art, so fine a -representation of the scene. The following detailed account of the -artist, and of his singularly successful labors, is extracted from an -Edinburg journal. We copy it from "_The People's Magazine_." It will be -highly interesting to most of our readers: - -James Thom, the sculptor of these wonderful figures, is a native of -Ayrshire, and of respectable parentage near Tarbolton. Although, like -those of his countryman and inspirer, his relatives were all engaged in -agricultural pursuits, (his brothers, we understand, possess large -farms,) the young man himself preferred the occupation of a mason, and -was, accordingly, apprenticed to a craftsman in Kilmarnock. This -profession was probably selected as offering the nearest approach to -the undefined workings and predilections of his own inexperienced mind, -since he was not, as in the instance of several sculptors of eminence, -thrown first into the trade of a stone mason by the force of -circumstances. This would appear from his showing little attachment to -the drudgery of the art: accordingly, his first master is understood to -have pronounced him rather a dull apprentice. From the beginning, he -seems to have looked forward to the ornamental part of his calling; and -in a country town where there was little or no opportunity of -employment in that line, to those more immediately concerned, he might -appear less useful than a less aspiring workman. The evidences of young -Thom's diligence and talent at this time, however, still remain in -numerous specimens of carving in stone, which he himself still -considers, we are told, as superior to any thing he has yet done. - -His term of apprenticeship being expired, Mr. Thom repaired to Glasgow -in pursuit of better employment. Here his merits were immediately -perceived, and so well rewarded, that his wages were considerably -higher than the ordinary rate. - -In his present profession, Mr. Thom's career may be dated from the -commencement of the winter of 1827. Being employed at this time in the -immediate neighborhood, he applied to Mr. Auld, of Ayr, who afterwards -proved his steady and judicious friend, for permission to take a sketch -from a portrait of Burns, with the intention of executing a bust of the -poet. This is a good copy of the original picture by Mr. Nasmyth, and -is suspended in the very elegant and classical monument, from a design -by Mr. Hamilton, erected to the memory of the bard, on the banks of the -Doon, near "Allowa's auld haunted kirk." The permission was kindly -granted; doubts, however, being at the same time expressed, how far the -attempt was likely to prove successful, Mr. Thom not being then known -in Ayr. These doubts seemed to be confirmed, on the latter returning -with a very imperfect sketch, taken by placing transparent paper on the -picture. These occurrences happened on the Wednesday, consequently -nothing could be done till Thursday, when materials were to be -procured, and other arrangements made, before the work was absolutely -begun. The surprise then may be conceived, on the artist returning on -the Monday following with the finished bust. In this work, though -somewhat defective as a likeness, the execution, the mechanical -details, and the general effect, were wonderful, especially when viewed -in connexion with the shortness of the time and the disadvantage of -being finished almost from memory--the very imperfect outline, already -mentioned, being the only _external_ guide. It was this general -excellence that encouraged the proposal of a full length figure--a -proposal to which the artist gave his ready assent, stating that he had -wished to undertake something of the kind, but did not consider it -prudent, without any prospect of remuneration, to hazard the expense -both of the block of stone and the loss of time. On this Mr. Auld -offered to procure any stone from the neighboring quarries which the -artist might judge fit for his purpose. Several days elapsed in this -search; in the meantime, the matter was rather laughed at than -encouraged; and some apprehensions of failure, and exposure to -consequent comments, being expressed, "Perhaps," said the artist, -endeavoring to re-assure his friends, "I had just better try my _hand_ -at a _head_, as a specimen o' Tam." This being agreed to, he returned -to Crosby church-yard, where he was then employed upon a grave-stone. -The day following happened to be one of continued rain; and, finding -that the water filled up his lines; probably, too, thinking more on -"glorious Tam," than on the _memento mori_ he was attempting to -engrave, our artist resolved to take time by the forelock, and to set -about the "specimen head" directly. Accordingly, pulling from the ruins -of the church of Crosby a rabat of the door-way, as a proper material -for his purpose, he sat himself down among the long rank grass covering -the graves, and in that situation actually finished the head before -rising. Nay, more, although the day has been described to us "as a -dounright pour," so total was his absorption in the work--so complete -his insensibility to every thing else, that he declares himself to have -been unconscious of the "rattling showers," from the moment he -commenced. Such is the power of genuine and natural enthusiasm in a -favorite pursuit. This head, which contained perhaps, more expression -than even that of the present figure, decided the matter. Next day, the -block requisite for a full-length of Tam o' Shanter, was brought into -Ayr, a load for four stout horses, and placed in a proper workshop, -within Cromwell's fort. - -It may be interesting to mention a few particulars of the manner in -which these figures have been composed and finished.--"Tam" was -selected by the artist as a subject for his chisel. The figure is -understood to bear a strong traditional resemblance to the well-known -Douglass Graham, some forty years ago a renowned specimen of a Carrick -farmer, and who, residing at Shanter, furnished to Burns the prototype -of his hero. - - ---- Souter Johnnie, - His antient, trusty, drouthie cronie-- - -is said to be a striking likeness of a living wight--a cobbler near -Maybole; not that this individual sat for his portraiture, but that the -artist appears to have wrought from the reminiscences of two interviews -with which he was favored, after twice travelling 'some lang Scotch -miles,' in order to persuade the said "souter" to transfer his body, by -means of his pair of soles, from his own to the artist's studio. The -bribe of two guineas a-week, exclusive of "half-mutchkins withouten -score," proved, however, unavailing, and the cobbler remained firm to -the _last_. By this refusal, "the birkie" has only become poorer by the -said couple of guineas, and certain "half-mutchkins drouthier," for so -true has the eye of the sculptor proved, that every one is said -instantly to recognise the cobbler's phiz and person. A strange -perverseness, indeed, or fatality, or what you will, seems to have -seized upon all the favored few selected as fitting archetypes for -these admirable figures. For, Tam's "nether man" occasioning some -anxiety in the perfecting of its sturdy symmetry, a carter, we believe, -was laid hold of, and the _gamashins_, being pulled on for -half-an-hour, Tam's _right leg_ was finished in rivalship of the said -gentleman's _supporter_. It appears to have been agreed upon that he -should return at a fitting opportunity, having thus left Tam -"hirpling:" but, in the interval, the story of the sitting -unfortunately taking _air_, and the soubriquet of "Tam o' Shanter" -threatening to attach to the lawful and Christian appellations of the -man of carts, no inducement could again bring him within the unhallowed -precincts of our sculptor's work-room. In like manner, though at a -somewhat later period, while the artist was engaged upon the figure of -the landlady, no persuasion could prevail upon one of the many "bonny -lasses" who have given such celebrity to Ayr, to exhibit even the -"fitting of their pearlings" to Mr. Thom's gaze. One sonsy damsel, on -being hard pressed to grant a sitting, replied, "Na, na, I've nae mind -to be nickinamed 'landlady;' and, as for gudewife, twa speerings maun -gang to that name." - -It will, doubtless, excite the admiration of every one in the slightest -degree conversant with the Arts, that these figures, so full of life, -ease and character, were thus actually executed without model, or -drawing, or palpable archetype whatsoever. The artist, indeed, knows -nothing of modelling; and so little of drawing, that we question if he -would not find difficulty in making even a tolerable sketch of his own -work. The chisel is his modelling tool--his pencil--the only instrument -of his art, in short, with which he is acquainted, but which he handles -in a manner, we may say, almost unprecedented in the history of -sculpture.--This, however, is the minor part; for we think, nay, are -sure, we discover in this dexterity of hand, in this unerring precision -of eye, in this strong, though still untutored, conception of form and -character--the native elements of the highest art. These primodial -attributes of genius, by proper culture, may do honor to the country -and to their possessor. At all events, instruction will refine and -improve attempts in the present walk of art, even should study be -unable to elevate attainment to a higher. Now, however, it would be not -only premature, but unjust, to criticise these statues as regular -labors of sculpture. They are to be regarded as wonderful, nay, almost -miraculous, efforts of native, unaided, unlearned talent--as an -approach to truth almost in spite of nature and of science; but they do -not hold with respect to legitimate sculpture--the high-souled, the -noblest, the severest of all arts--the same rank as, in painting, the -works of the Dutch masters do as compared with the lofty spirits of the -Romans--precisely for this reason, that while similar subjects are not -only fit, but often felicitous, subjects for the pencil, they are -altogether improper objects of sculptural representation. - -Though, from the circumstance of being the principals in the -composition, and from the intrinsic excellence of their conception, -these two figures have chiefly occupied the public attention, they -ought not to induce forgetfulness of the artist's other labors. These, -besides the Landlord and his mate, consist of several[1] copies, in -various sizes, of this original group, and of numerous sculptures, of -different character and purpose, from a "head-stane" upwards, executed -by Mr. Thom, since his residence in Ayr as a professional stone-cutter. -Here his studio is the resort of all intelligent strangers who visit -this ancient and beautiful burgh; while his modest manners, and moral -worth have conciliated the respect of every one. The character of the -Landlady is well sustained, as the buxom bustling head of a well -frequented "change-house." Her lord and master, on the other hand, is -represented as one who has little to say in his own house, and better -qualified to drink, than to earn his pint. The former seems by no means -disinclined to reciprocate glances with Tam; while the latter is so -convulsed with laughter at the Souter's stories, as to be hardly -capable of maintaining the equipoise of the foaming tankard in his -hand. Neither, however, is equal in graphic truth and humor to their -two companions. A more gigantic, but by no means so happy a work, is -the statue of the Scottish patriot, lately placed in the niche of the -New Tower, just erected in Ayr, on the site of the ancient "Wallace -Tower" of Burns. In fact, we regard this figure as nearly a failure. It -possesses neither the truth of nature, nor the dignity of ideal -representation. Omitting others of less moment, we shall pass to the -most perfect of all Mr. Thom's works--the figure of "Old Mortality." -This, though only a model, and not yet, we believe, even commissioned -in stone, offers by far the most striking evidence of genius in its -author.[2] The costume, attitude, and expression of the old man, as he -is represented sitting upon a grave-stone, which he has been occupied -in cleaning, are most admirable; and perhaps no artist ever more -completely realized the exquisite conception of the original mind. The -history of this composition supplies a striking instance of the power -of genius over spirits of a congenial stamp, and of the singular -coincidences which sometimes take place in its manner of conceiving the -same sentiment. During a voyage to London, in a Leith steam packet, Mr. -Thom one day found in the cabin, Sir Walter's delightful tale of Old -Mortality, which he had never read. Taking it up, he quickly became -entirely engrossed in the narrative. The description of the old man, to -whom posterity is indebted for many a record, else lost, of our -single-minded sufferers for conscience' sake--so fixed itself upon the -artist's imagination, that he instantly conceived the idea of -representing it in sculpture. By way of concentrating his thoughts, he -sketched a figure in the imagined attitude, on one of the boards of the -book he had been reading. Pleased with his idea, he transferred it to -his pocket-book. A few days after his arrival in London, he was -introduced to our celebrated countryman, Wilkie, who, with his -accustomed kindness, showed him his portfolios. Mr. Thom's surprise may -be imagined, when in one of these he found a sketch of Old Mortality, -almost identical with his own, executed by Wilkie several years before. -The same thought had struck both, and almost in the same manner. - -[Footnote 1: There are now five sets; three of which are the size of -life, and two, four and twenty inches high. One set is, or is to be -deposited at the temple called the tomb of Burns, in Ayrshire.--Another -belongs to Lord Cassili. The third is in this country.] - -[Footnote 2: Since the above has been published, Thom has nearly -finished his Old Mortality in a block too small for his conception, and -which will oblige him to execute an entirely new figure.] - - - - -[We extract the following affecting story from the "_Western Monthly -Magazine_." Though written in the form of romantic narrative, it -presents one of the strongest cases we recollect to have seen, in which -innocence is overborne by powerful but false appearances of guilt. It -is certainly a strong illustration of the danger of convicting a fellow -creature, upon what is technically called _presumptive evidence_, a -topic upon which the gentlemen of the bar are furnished with as wide a -field for the display of professional ingenuity, as upon any other in -the whole compass of jurisprudence. That it is often safe, and -indispensably necessary however to rely upon such kind of evidence, is -so obvious in itself--and so well established as a legal maxim--that -the danger of sometimes convicting, upon a train of specious but -deceptive circumstances, is less than the evil of acquittal in the -absence of positive, conclusive, and infallible testimony.] - - -CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. - -A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT. - - -The circumstances which I am about to relate, are familiar to many now -living. In some particulars I have varied from the truth; but if in the -relation of an event which excited intense interest, at the time of its -occurrence, I shall succeed in impressing upon any one, the delusive -character of circumstantial evidence, my object will be attained. - -Beneath the magnificent sycamores which bordered a lovely stream in the -southwest part of Kentucky, a company of emigrants had pitched their -encampment, for the night. The tents were set up, the night-fire threw -its gleam upon the water, the weary horses were feeding, the evening -repast was over, and preparations were made for repose. The party -consisted of three brothers, with their families, who were wending -their way to the new lands of the distant Missouri. On their visages, -where the ague had left the sallow traces of its touch, few of the -nobler traits of the human character were visible. Accustomed to reside -upon the outskirts of society, little versed in its forms, and as -little accustomed to the restraints of law, or the duties of morality, -they were the fit pioneers of civilization, because their frames were -prepared for the utmost endurance of fatigue, and society was purified -by their removal. Theirs were not the fearless independence, and frank -demeanor which marks the honest backwoodsman of our country; but the -untamed license, and the wiley deportment of violent men, who loved not -the salutary influence of the law, nor mingled of choice with the -virtuous of their own species. - -As they stirred the expiring fires, the column of light, mingled with -the smoke and cinder, that rose towards the clear sky of the mild May -night, revealed two travellers of a different appearance, who had -encamped on the margin of the same stream. One was a man of thirty. -Several years passed in the laborious practice of medicine, in a -southern climate, had destroyed his constitution, and he had come to -breathe the bracing air of a higher latitude. The wing of health had -fanned into new vigor the waning fires of life, and he was now -returning to the home of his adoption with a renovated frame. The young -man who sat by him, was a friend, to whom he had paid a visit, and who -was now attending him, a short distance, on his journey. They had -missed their way, and reluctantly accepted a sullen permission of the -emigrants to share their coarse fare, rather than wander in the dark, -through unknown forests. Hamilton, the younger of the two, was, -perhaps, twenty-seven years of age--and was a young gentleman of -prepossessing appearance, of cultivated mind, and of a chivalrous and -sensitive disposition. His parents were indigent, and he had, by the -energy of his own talents and industry, redeemed them from poverty, and -placed them in easy circumstances. In one of his commercial expeditions -down the Mississippi, he had met with Saunders, the physician. An -intimacy ensued, which though brief, had already ripened into mature -friendship. - - 'Affection knoweth nought of time, - It riseth like the vernal flowers; - The heart pulse is its only chime, - And feelings are its hours.' - -Together they had hunted over the flowery barrens, and through the -majestic forests of their native state--had scaled the precipice, and -swam the torrent--had explored the cavern, and visited whatever was -wonderful or curious in the region around them; and both looked -forward, with painful feelings, to the termination of an intercourse -which had been pleasing and instructive.--As they were to separate in -the morning, the evening was spent in conversation--in that copious and -involuntary flow of kindness and confidence which the heart pours out -at the moment when friends are about to sever, when the past is -recalled and the future anticipated, and friendship no longer silent, -nor motionless, displays itself like the beauty of the ocean wave, -which is most obvious at the moment of its dissolution. - -Early in the morning, the two friends prepared to pursue their journey. -As they were about to depart, one of the emigrants advanced towards -them, and remarked: - -'I reckon, strangers, you allow to encamp at Scottville to-night?' - -'Yes,' said Saunders, 'I do.' - -'Well, then, I can tell you a chute, that's a heap shorter than the -road you talk of taking--and at the forks of Rushing river, there's a -smart chance of blue clay, that's miry like, and it's right scary -crossing at times.' - -Supposing they had found a nearer and better road, and one by which a -dangerous ford would be avoided, they thanked their informant, and -proceeded on their journey. - -In some previous conversations, Saunders had learned, that his friend -had recently experienced some heavy losses, and was at this time much -pressed for money, and wishing to offer him assistance, had from time -to time deferred it, from the difficulty of approaching so delicate a -subject. As the time of parting approached, however, he drew the -conversation to that point, and was informed that the sum of five -hundred dollars, would relieve his friend from embarrassment. Having a -large sum in his possession, he generously tendered him the amount -required, and Hamilton, after some hesitation, accepted the loan, and -proposed to give his note for its repayment, which Saunders declined, -under the plea that the whole transaction was a matter of friendship, -and that no such formality was requisite. When they were about to part, -Hamilton unclasped his breast-pin, and presented it to his friend. 'Let -this,' said he, 'remind you sometimes of Kentucky--I trust, that when I -visit you next year, I shall not see it adorning the person of some -favored fair one.' 'I have not so much confidence in you,' laughingly -returned the other; and, handing him a silver-hafted penknife curiously -embossed, 'I am told that knives and scissors are not acceptable -presents to the fair, as they are supposed to cut love, so I have no -fear that Almira will get this--and I know that no other human being -would cause you to forget your friend.' They then parted. - -As Hamilton was riding slowly homeward, engaged in thought, and holding -his bridle loosely, a deer sprang suddenly from a thicket, and fell in -the road, before his horse, who started and threw him to the ground. In -examining the deer, which had been mortally wounded, and was still -struggling, some of the blood was sprinkled on his dress, which had -been otherwise soiled by his fall. Paying little attention to these -circumstances, he returned home. - -Though his absence had been brief, many hands grasped his in cordial -welcome, many eyes met his own in love, for few of the young men of the -county were so universally beloved, and so much respected as Hamilton. -But to none was his return so acceptable as to Almira ----. She had -been his playmate in infancy, his schoolmate in childhood, in maturer -years their intimacy had ripened into love, and they were soon to be -united in the holiest and dearest of ties. But the visions of hope were -soon to pass from before them, as the _mirage_ of the desert, that -mocks the eye of the thirsty traveller, and then leaves him a -death-devoted wanderer on the arid waste. - -A vague report was brought to the village, that the body of a murdered -man was found near Scottville. It was first mentioned by a traveller, -in a company where Hamilton was present; and he instantly exclaimed, -'no doubt it is Saunders--how unfortunate that I left him!' and then -retired under great excitement. His manner and expressions awakened -suspicion, which was unhappily corroborated by a variety of -circumstances, that were cautiously whispered by those, who dared not -openly arraign a person whose whole conduct through life had been -honest, frank, and manly. He had ridden away with Saunders, who was -known to have been in possession of a large sum of money. Since his -return, he had paid off debts to a considerable amount. The penknife of -Saunders was recognized in his hands--yet none were willing, on mere -surmise, to hazard a direct accusation. - -The effect of the intelligence upon Hamilton was marked. The sudden -death of a dear friend is hard to be supported--but when one who is -loved and esteemed, is cut off by the dastardly hand of the assassin, -the pang of bereavement becomes doubly great, and in this instance, the -feelings of deep gratitude which Hamilton felt towards his benefactor, -caused him to mourn over the catastrophe, with a melancholy anguish. He -would sit for hours in a state of abstraction, from which even the -smile of love could not awaken him. - -The elections were at hand; and Hamilton was a candidate for the -legislature. In the progress of the canvass, the foul charge was openly -made, and propagated with the remorseless spirit of party animosity. -Yet he heard it not, until one evening as he sate with Almira, in her -father's house. They were conversing in low accents, when the sound of -an approaching footstep interrupted them, and the father of Almira -entered the room. 'Mr. Hamilton,' said he, 'I am a frank man--I -consented to your union with my daughter, believing your character to -be unstained--but I regret to hear that a charge has been made against -you, which, if true, must render you amenable to the laws of your -country. I believe it to be a fabrication of your enemies--but, until -it shall be disproved, and your character as a man of honor, placed -above suspicion, you must be sensible that the proposed union cannot -take place, and that your visits to my house must be discontinued.' - -'What does my father mean?' inquired the young lady, anxiously, as her -indignant parent retired. - -'I do not know,' replied the lover, 'it is some electioneering story, -no doubt, which I can easily explain. I only regret that it should give -him, or you, a moment's uneasiness.' - -'It shall cause me none,' replied the confiding girl: 'I cannot believe -any evil of you.' - -He retired--sought out the nature of the charge, and to his -inexpressible astonishment and horror, learned that he was accused of -the murder and robbery of his friend! In a state little short of -distraction, he retired to his room, recalled with painful minuteness -all the circumstances connected with the melancholy catastrophe, and -for the first time, saw the dangerous ground on which he stood. But -proud in conscious innocence, he felt that to withdraw at that stage of -the canvass, might be construed into a confession of guilt. He remained -a candidate, and was beaten. Now, for the first time, did he feel the -wretchedness of a condemned and degraded man. The tribunal of public -opinion had pronounced against him the sentence of conviction; and even -his friends, as the excitement of the party struggle subsided, became -cold in his defence, and wavering in their belief of his innocence. -Conscious that the eye of suspicion was open, and satisfied that -nothing short of a public investigation could restore him to honor, the -unhappy young man surrendered himself to the civil authority, and -demanded a trial. Ah! little did he know the malignity of man, or the -fatal energy of popular delusion! He reflected not that when the public -mind is imbued with prejudice, even truth itself ceases to be mighty. -Many believed him guilty, and those who, during the canvass, had -industriously circulated the report, now labored with untiring -diligence to collect and accumulate the evidence which should sustain -their previous assertions. But arrayed in the panoply of innocence, he -stood firm, and confident of acquittal. The best counsel had been -engaged--and on the day of trial, Hamilton stood before the assembled -county--an arraigned culprit in the presence of those before whom he -had walked in honor from childhood. - -As the trial proceeded, the confidence of his friends diminished, and -those who had doubted, became confirmed in the belief of the prisoner's -guilt. Trifles light as air became confirmations strong as proofs of -Holy Writ to the jealous minds of the audience, and one fact was linked -to another in curious coincidence, until the chain of corroborating -circumstances seemed irresistibly conclusive. His recent intimacy with -the deceased, and even the attentions which friendship and hospitality -had dictated, were ingeniously insisted upon as evidences of a -deliberate plan of wickedness--long formed and gradually developed. The -facts, that he had accompanied the deceased on his way--that he had -lost the path in a country with which he was supposed to be -familiar--his conduct on hearing of the death of his friend--the -money--the knife--caused the most incredulous to tremble for his fate. -But when the breast-pin of Hamilton, found near the body of the -murdered man, was produced--and a pistol, known to have been that of -the prisoner, was proved to have been picked up near the same spot--but -little room was left, even for charity to indulge a benevolent doubt. -Nor was this all--the prosecution had still another witness--the pale -girl who sate by him, clasping his hand in hers, was unexpectedly -called upon to rise and give testimony. She shrunk from the unfeeling -call, and buried her face in her brother's bosom. That blow was not -anticipated--for none but the cunning myrmidons of party vengeance, who -had even violated the sanctuary of family confidence, in search of -evidence, dreamed that any criminating circumstance was in the -possession of this young lady. At the mandate of the court, she arose, -laid aside her veil, and disclosed a face haggard with anxiety and -terror. In low tremulous accents, broken with sobs, she reluctantly -deposed, that the clothes worn by her brother, on his return from that -fatal journey, were torn, soiled with earth, and bloody! An audible -murmur ran through the crowd, who were listening in breathless -silence--the prisoner bowed his head in mute despair--the witness was -borne away insensible--the argument proceeded, and after an eloquent, -but vain defence, the jury brought in a verdict of _guilty!_ The -sentence of _death_ was passed. - - * * * * * - -The summer had passed away. The hand of autumn had begun to tinge with -mellow hues the magnificent scenery of the forest. It was evening, and -the clear moonbeams were shining through the grates of the prisoner's -cell. The unhappy man, haggard, attenuated, and heart-broken, was lying -upon his wretched pallet, reflecting alternately upon the early wreck -of his bright hopes, the hour of ignominy that was just approaching, -and the dread futurity into which he should soon be plunged. It was the -season at which his marriage with Almira was to have been solemnized. -With what pride and joy had he looked forward to this hour! And now, -instead of the wedding festivities, the lovely bride, and the train of -congratulating friends, so often pictured in fancy, he realized -fetters, a dungeon, and a disgraceful death! The well-known tread of -the jailer interrupted the bitter train of thought. The door opened, -and as the light streamed from a lantern across the cell, he saw a -female form timidly approaching. In a moment Almira had sunk on her -knees beside him, and their hands were silently clasped together. There -are occasions when the heart spurns all constraint, and acts up to its -own dictates, careless of public opinion, or prescribed forms--when -love becomes the absorbing and overruling passion--and when that which -under other circumstances would be mere unlicensed impulse, becomes a -hallowed and imperious duty. That noble-hearted girl had believed to -the last, that her lover would be honorably acquitted. The intelligence -of his condemnation, while it blighted her hopes, and withered her -health, never disturbed for one moment her conviction of his innocence. -There is an union of hearts which is indestructible, which marriage may -sanction, and nourish, and hallow, but which separation cannot -destroy--a love that endures while life remains, or until its object -shall prove faithless or unworthy. Such was the affection of Almira; -and she held her promise to love and honor him, whose fidelity to her -was unspotted, and whose character she considered honorable, to be as -sacred, as if they had been united in marriage. When all others -forsook, she resolved never to forsake him. She had come to visit him -in his desolation, and to risk all, to save one who was dear and -innocent in her estimation, though guilty in the eyes of the world. - -The jailer, a blunt, though humane man, briefly disclosed a plan, which -he, with Almira, had devised, for the escape of Hamilton. He had -consented to allow the prisoner to escape, in female dress, while she -was to remain in his stead, so that the whole contrivance should seem -to be her own. 'I am a plain man,' concluded the jailer, 'but I know -what's right. It 'aint fair to hang no man on suspicion--and more than -that, I am not agoing to stand in no man's way--especially a friend who -has done me favors, as you have. I go in for giving every fellow a fair -chance. The track's clear, Mr. Hamilton, and the quicker you put out, -the better.' - -To his surprise, the prisoner peremptorily refused the offer. - -'I am innocent,' said he; 'but I would suffer a thousand deaths rather -than injure the fair fame of this confiding girl.' - -'Go, Dudley--my dear Dudley,' she sobbed: 'for my sake, for the sake of -your broken-hearted father and sister--' - -'Do not tempt me--my dear Almira. I will not do that which would expose -you to disgrace.' - -'Oh, who would blame me?' - -'The world--the uncharitable world--they who believe me a murderer, and -have tortured the most innocent actions into proofs of deliberate -villainy, will not hesitate to brand you as the victim of a -cold-blooded felon. And why should I fly? to live a wretched wanderer, -with the brand of Cain on my forehead, and a character stamped with -infamy?'-- - -He would have said more--but the form, that during this brief dialogue, -had sunk into his arms, was lying lifeless on his bosom. He kissed her -cold lips, and passionately repeated her name--but she heard him -not--her pure spirit had gently disengaged itself, and was flown -forever. Her heart was broken. She had watched, and wept, and prayed, -in hopeless grief, until the physical energies of a delicate frame were -exhausted: and the excitement of the last scene had snapped the -attenuated thread of life. - -Hamilton did not survive her long. His health was already shattered by -long confinement, and the chaffing of a proud spirit. Almira had died -for him--and his own mother--oh! how cautiously did they whisper the -sad truth, when he asked why _she_ who loved him better than her own -life, had forsaken him in the hour of affliction--she, too, had sunk -under the dreadful blow. His father lived a withered, melancholy man, -crushed in spirit; and as his sister hung like a guardian angel over -his death-bed, and he gazed at her pale, emaciated, sorrow-stricken -countenance, he saw that she, too, would soon be numbered among the -victims of this melancholy persecution. When, with his last breath, he -suggested that they would soon meet, she replied: 'I trust that God -will spare me to see your innocence established, and then will I die -contented.' And her confidence was rewarded--for God does not -disappoint those who put their trust in him. About a year afterwards, a -wretch, who was executed at Natchez, and who was one of the three -persons named in the commencement of this narrative, confessed that he -had murdered Saunders, with a pistol which he had found at the place -where the two friends had slept. 'I knew it would be so,'--was the only -reply of the fast declining sister--and soon after she was buried by -the side of Dudley and Almira.--Reader, this is not fiction--nor are -the decisions of God unjust--but his ways are above our comprehension. - -EMILLION. - - - - -LAW LECTURE AT WILLIAM AND MARY. - -A Lecture on the Study of the Law; being an Introduction to a course of -lectures on that subject, in the College of William and Mary, by -Beverley Tucker, Professor of Law.--Richmond: T. W. White. Nov. 1834. - - -It is impossible for a Virginian not to feel an interest in old William -and Mary. Recollecting the many able men who have been nurtured within -its walls, and signalized as lawyers, legislators and statesmen, we -cannot but feel gratified at every effort in its behalf that promises -to be of use. From the time of Judge Semple's last appointment as Judge -of the General Court, until the month of July, the law chair had -remained vacant. A vacancy in so important a department continuing for -so long a period, could not fail to be prejudicial to the institution. -It was in vain that the other professorships were ably filled. The -circumstance of the lectures in the law department being suspended, -made many fear that the other professorships would one by one share the -same fate--that this vacancy was but a precursor to others--that a -failure to fill this would be followed by like failures hereafter--and -that in a few years the doors of this venerable pile would be closed. -These inferences are strengthened by the fact, that a very important -professorship (the professorship of mathematics) had formerly been -permitted to remain vacant for even a longer period than that which is -the subject of these brief reflections. With such anticipations, it is -no wonder that every class has latterly been characterized by the -smallness of its numbers. - -The Board of Visiters, at their meeting in July, resolved that the -vacancy should continue no longer, and conferred the appointment of law -professor upon Beverley Tucker. Mr. Tucker is well known as a writer -upon constitutional questions, and his appointment to the bench of -another state, after a short residence in it, affords evidence of the -estimation in which his legal attainments were there held. The same -professorship to which _he_ is now appointed, was filled many years ago -by his father _St. George Tucker_, whose edition of Blackstone's -Commentaries, and subsequent appointment first in the state and then in -the federal judiciary, have given him a reputation with members of the -bar throughout the Union. - -The letter and answer which precede the introductory lecture of -Professor Tucker, sufficiently explain the circumstances under which -that lecture is published. - - * * * * * - -_Williamsburg, October 27, 1834_. - -_Dear Sir:_--The students of William and Mary, highly gratified by your -able and eloquent address, delivered before them this day, have held a -special meeting, and by unanimous vote adopted the following -resolution: - -_Resolved_, (At a meeting of the students in the large lecture room on -the 27th inst.) That a committee be appointed to address a note to -Professor Tucker, for the purpose of expressing their admiration of the -able and interesting lecture which he has this day delivered, -introductory to his course on law, and to solicit the same for -publication. - -We hope for your assent to this request, and in performing this -agreeable duty, we tender you our sentiments of respect and esteem. - - JNO. W. DEW, CHAS. H. KENNEDY, - WM. T. FRENCH, JOHN MURDAUGH, - -_Professor Tucker_. _Committee_. - - * * * * * - -_Williamsburg, October 28, 1834_. - -_Gentlemen:_--I acknowledge the receipt of your polite note, and am -happy to comply with the request which it conveys. Identified with the -College of William and Mary by the early recollections and warm -affections of youth, I have nothing so much at heart as a desire to be -found worthy to aid in restoring that venerable institution to all its -former prosperity and usefulness. Your approbation is dear to me, as -encouraging a hope that my efforts may not be unavailing. If I shall be -so fortunate as to send out into the world but one more, to be added to -the list of illustrious men, who are every where found upholding, with -generous, devoted and enlightened zeal, the free institutions inherited -from our fathers, in their true spirit, I shall have my reward. If I -can succeed in impressing on my class the conviction, that freedom has -its duties, as well as its rights, and can only be preserved by the -faithful discharge of those duties, I shall have my reward. If I can do -no more than to furnish to the profession members devoted to its -duties, and qualified to sustain its high character for intelligence -and integrity, by diligence and fidelity even in its humblest walks, I -shall still have my reward. In either case I shall have rendered -valuable service, to you, to this venerable institution, to this scene -of my earliest, happiest and best days, and to Virginia--my mother--the -only country to which my heart has ever owned allegiance. Far as my -feet have wandered from her soil, my affections have always cleaved to -her, and as the faithful mussulman, in every clime, worships with his -face towards the tomb of his prophet, so has my heart ever turned to -her, alive to all her interests, jealous of her honor, resentful of her -wrongs, partaking in all her struggles, exulting in her triumphs, and -mourning her defeats. May she again erect herself to her former proud -attitude and walk before the children of liberty in the pathless desert -where they now wander, as a "cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by -night." - -For yourselves, gentlemen, and those whom you represent, be pleased to -accept my acknowledgments for the compliment implied in your -application. I would ask you to accept the expression of another -sentiment, if I knew how to express it. Returning to Williamsburg after -an absence commencing in early life, the long and dreary interval seems -obliterated. I find myself remitted at once to the scenes and to the -feelings of youth. It would seem more natural to me to come among you -as a companion than as an instructer. But this may not be much amiss. -My business is with your _heads_, but the road to them is through the -_heart_, and if I can only bring you to understand and reciprocate my -feelings, there will be nothing wanting to facilitate the communication -of any instruction I may be capable of bestowing. - -I remain, gentlemen, with high regard, your friend and obedient -servant, - -B. TUCKER. - -To _Messrs. J. W. Dew, John Murdaugh, Wm. T. French, and Chs. H. -Kennedy_. - - * * * * * - -YOUNG GENTLEMEN: - -I gladly avail myself of an established custom, to offer some remarks -on the mutual relation into which we have just entered, and the studies -which will occupy our attention during the ensuing course. - -This day is to you the commencement of the most important ćra of life. -You have heretofore been engaged in studies, for the most part useful, -but sometimes merely ornamental or amusing. The mind, it is true, can -hardly fail to improve, by the exertion necessary to the acquisition of -knowledge of any kind, even as the athletic sports of the boy harden -and prepare the body for the labors of the man. But, in many -particulars, what you have heretofore learned may be of little -practical value in the business of life; and your past neglects may -perhaps be attended with no loss of prosperity or respectability in -future. Some of you are probably acquainted with sciences of which -others are ignorant; but are not for that reason any better prepared -for the new course of studies on which you are about to enter. Nor will -such knowledge necessarily afford its possessors any advantage at the -bar, or in the senate, or on any of the arenas, where the interests of -individuals and nations are discussed, and the strifes of men decided. -But the time is now past with you, young gentlemen, when you can lose a -moment, or neglect an opportunity of improvement, without a lasting and -irreparable detriment to yourselves. You this day put on the _toga -virilis_, and enter on the _business of life_. This day you commence -those studies on which independence, prosperity, respectability, and -the comfort and happiness of those who will be dearest to you, must -depend. For, trust me, these things mainly depend on excellence in the -profession or occupation, whatever it may be, which a man chooses as -the business of his life. The humblest mechanic will derive more of all -these good things from diligence and proficiency in his trade, than he -possibly can from any knowledge unconnected with it. - -This, which is true of all occupations, is most emphatically true of -that which you have chosen. To be eminent in _our_ profession is to -hold a place among the great ones of the earth; and they, who devote -themselves to it, have the rare advantage of treading the path which -leads to the highest objects of honorable ambition, even while walking -the round of daily duties, and providing for the daily wants of private -life. The history of our country is full of proof that the bar is the -road to eminence; and I beg you to remark how few of its members have -attained to this eminence in public life, without having been first -distinguished in the profession. To win _its_ honors, and to wear them -worthily, is to attain an elevation from which all other honors are -accessible: but to turn aside disgusted with its labors, is to lose -this vantage ground, and to sink again to the dead level of the common -mass. You should therefore learn to look on the profession of your -choice, as the source from whence are to flow all the comforts, the -honors, and the happiness of life. Let it be as a talisman, in which, -under God, you put your trust, assuring yourselves that whatever you -seek by means of it you will receive. - -I have the more naturally fallen into these remarks, as they are in -some sort suggested, and are certainly justified by the history of this -institution. If you trace back the lives of the men, who at this moment -occupy the most enviable pre-eminence in your native state, you will -find that they received the rudiments of their professional and -political education at this venerable but decayed seminary. There are -certainly distinguished members of the profession, and illustrious men -out of the profession, to whom this remark does not apply. But when -Virginia (_Magna Parens Virum_,) is called on to show her jewels, to -whom does she more proudly point than to men who once occupied those -very seats; who here received the first impulse in their career; who -here commenced that generous strife for superiority which has placed -them all so high. - -The subject of our researches, young gentlemen, will be the municipal -law of Virginia. The text book which will be placed in your hands is -the American edition of Blackstone's Commentaries, published thirty -years ago by one of my predecessors in this chair. You will readily -believe that it would be my pride to walk, with filial reverence by the -lights which he has given us, and that, in doing so, I should feel -secure of escaping any harsh animadversion from those to whom I am -responsible, and who still cherish so favorable a recollection of his -services. I shall certainly endeavor to avail myself of this privilege; -though it may be occasionally necessary to assume a more perilous -responsibility. A brief sketch of the plan which I propose to myself, -will show you how far I shall follow, and wherein, and why, I shall -deviate from the path which he has traced. - -Municipal law is defined by Mr. Blackstone, "to be a rule of civil -conduct prescribed by the supreme power of the state." By Justinian it -is said, "_Id quod quisque populus sibi jus constituit, vocatur jus -civile_:" which has been well rendered thus: "It is the system of rules -of civil conduct which any state has ordained for itself." - -Whatever definition we adopt, we shall find that municipal law is -distinguishable into four grand divisions, which may be properly -designated by the following description: - -1. That which regulates the nature and form of the body politic; which -establishes the relation that each individual bears to it, and the -rights and duties growing out of that relation, which determines the -principles on which it exercises authority over him; and settles a -system of jurisprudence by which it operates to protect and enforce -right, and to redress and punish wrong. - -2. That which determines the relations of individual members of society -to each other; which defines the rights growing out of that relation; -and regulates the right of property, and such personal rights as must -subsist even in a state of nature. - -3. That which defines the wrongs that may be done by one individual -member of society to another, in prejudice of his rights, whether of -person or property, and provides means for preventing or redressing -such wrongs. - -4. That which defines and denounces the wrongs which may be done by any -individual member of society, in violation of the duties growing out of -his relation to the body politic, and provides means for preventing and -punishing such violation. - -The first of these divisions is treated by Mr. Blackstone in his first -book, under the comprehensive head of "The Rights of Persons." Under -the same head he includes so much of the second division as relates to -such personal rights as must have belonged to man in a state of nature, -and such as grow out of his relation to other individual members of -society. Such are the _relative_ rights of husband and wife, parent and -child, guardian and ward, and master and servant--and the _absolute_ -rights, of personal liberty, and of security to life, limb and -reputation. These rights are obviously not the creatures of civil -society, however they may be regulated and modified by municipal law. -They in no wise depend on "the nature or form of the body politic;" nor -on "the relations which individuals bear to it;" nor on "the rights and -duties growing out of that relation;" nor on "the principles on which -it exercises authority over individuals;" nor on "the system of -jurisprudence." - -As little indeed do they depend on "the rights of property," but they -have much in common with them. Together with them, they collectively -form the mass of "individual rights," as contradistinguished from -"political rights." Neither class derives its existence from civil -society, although both are alike liable to be regulated by it, and the -two together form the subject of almost all controversies between man -and man. Now with rights in actual and peaceable enjoyment, law has -nothing to do. It is controversy which calls it into action; and as -both this class of personal rights, and the rights of property, have -the same common origin--both subsisting by titles paramount to the -constitutions of civil society; as both are the ordinary subjects of -controversy between individuals; and as these controversies are all -conducted according to similar forms, decided by the same tribunals, -and adjusted by the like means,--it is found convenient to arrange them -together in a course of instruction. Such I believe has always been the -practice in this institution. Proposing to conform to it, I have -thought it best, in the outset, to intimate this slight difference -between this practice and Mr. Blackstone's arrangement. - -There is another particular in which Mr. Blackstone's order of -instruction has been advantageously changed at this place. His is -certainly the true _philosophical_ arrangement of the subject. When we -are told that "municipal law is a rule of civil conduct prescribed by -the supreme power in the state," it is obvious to ask, "what is that -supreme power, and whence comes its supremacy?" When we are told that -it is "the system of rules of civil conduct, which the state has -ordained for itself," the first inquiry is, "what is the state?" Thus -whatever definition of municipal law we adopt, the subject of inquiry -that meets us at the threshold is the _Lex Legum_; the law which endues -the municipal law itself with authority. - -If the individual to be instructed were one who had heretofore lived -apart from law and government, yet capable (if such a thing were -possible) of understanding the subject, it is here we ought to -commence. To him it would be indispensable to explain, in the first -instance, the structure of the body politic; to specify the rights -surrendered by individuals; and to set before him the equivalent -privileges received in exchange. _We_ too might be supposed to require -a like exposition before we would be prepared to submit to the severe -restraints and harsh penalties of _criminal_ law. But in regard to -controversies between individuals we feel no such jealousies. In these, -the law, acting but as an arbiter, indifferent between the parties, no -question concerning its authority occurs to the mind. The readiness -with which we acquiesce in its decisions, is strikingly manifested in -the fact, that the whole of England, Ireland and the United States are, -for the most part, governed by a law which has no voucher for its -authority but this acquiescence. The same thing may be said of the -authority of the civil law on the continent of Europe. It thus appears -that the mind does not always require to be informed of the origin of -the law which regulates and enforces, or protects individual rights, -before it will condescend to inquire what are its behests. _Prima -facie_ it should be so; but being, in point of fact, born in the midst -of law, habituated to it from our infancy, and accustomed to witness -uniform obedience to its authority on the part of those whom we were -taught to obey, we learn to regard it as a thing _in rerum natura_, -rather than of human invention; a sort of moral atmosphere, which, like -that we breathe, seems a very condition of our existence. - -There is therefore no inconvenience to be apprehended from taking up -the subject in an inverted order, treating first of individual rights, -and reserving those that grow out of the relation of the citizen to the -body politic, and the correlative duties of that relation, for future -inquiry. - -While there is nothing to be objected to this arrangement, there is -much in favor of it. It is important that they who engage in the study -of political law, should come to the task with minds prepared for it; -well stored with analogous information, and sobered and subdued by the -discipline of severe investigation. There is a simplicity in some views -of government which is apt to betray the student into a premature -belief that he understands it thoroughly; and then, measuring the value -of his imagined acquirements, not by the labor that they have cost him, -but by the dignity and importance of the subject, he becomes inflated, -self-satisfied and unteachable; resting in undoubting assurance on the -accuracy and sufficiency of such bare outline as his instructer may -have thought proper to place before him. But in those countries where -the authority of government rests on a questionable title, they who are -entrusted with the education of youth, may naturally wish to keep them -from looking into it too narrowly. Hence it may be a measure of policy -with them, to introduce the student, in the first place, to the study -of political law, in the hope of making on his raw and unpractised -mind, such an impression, as may secure his approbation of the existing -order of things. The faculty of investigating legal questions, and -forming legal opinions, may almost be regarded as an acquired faculty; -so that, in the earlier part of his researches, the student necessarily -acquiesces in the doctrines which are pronounced _ex cathedra_ by his -teacher. At this time he readily receives opinions on trust; and if it -be his interest to cherish them, or if he is never called on in after -life to reexamine them, he is apt to carry them with him to the grave. -This is perhaps as it should be in England and other countries of -Europe. Having no part in the government, it may be well enough that he -should learn to sit down contented with this sort of enlightened -ignorance. - -But with us the case is different. The authority of our governments is -derived by a title that fears no investigation. We feel sure, that, the -better it is understood, the more it will be approved. It rests too on -a charter conferring regulated and limited powers; and the well being -of the country requires that the limitations and regulations be -strictly observed. Now every man among us has his "place in the -commonwealth." It is on the one hand, the duty of every man to aid in -giving full effect to all legitimate acts of government; and on the -other, to bear his part in restraining the exercise of all powers -forbidden or not granted. Every man therefore owes it to his country to -acquire a certain proficiency in constitutional law, so as to act -understandingly, when called on to decide between an alleged violation -of the constitution, and an imputed opposition to lawful authority. -Such occasions are of daily occurrence. Scarcely a day has passed, -since the adoption of the federal constitution, when some question of -this sort has not been before the public. Such is the effect of that -impatience of restraint natural to man. So prompt are the people to -become restive under laws of questionable authority, and so apt are -rulers to strain at the curb of constitutional limitations, that one or -the other, or both of these spectacles, is almost always before us. - -When you come then, young gentlemen, to the study of political and -constitutional law, you will find it no small advantage to have been -engaged for some months before in studies of a similar character. The -opinions you will then form will be properly your own. I may not be so -successful as I might wish, in impressing you with those I entertain; -but I shall be more gratified to find you prepared to "give a reason -for the faith that is in you," whatever that faith may be, than to hear -you rehearse, by rote, any political catechism that I could devise. I -shall accordingly postpone any remarks on constitutional and political -law, until your minds have been exercised and hardened by the severe -training they will undergo in the study of the private rights of -individuals, of wrongs done in prejudice of such rights, and of the -remedies for such wrongs. All these topics are embraced in the second -and third division of municipal law, that I have laid before you. - -To these belong the most intricate and difficult questions in the -science of law. In introducing you to the study of these, let me say, -in the language of one from whom I am proud to quote, that, "I cannot -flatter you with the assurance that 'your yoke is easy and your burden -light.' I will not tell you that your path leads over gentle ascents -and through flowery meads, where every new object entices us forward, -and stimulates to perseverance. By no means! The task you have -undertaken is one of the most arduous; the profession you have chosen -one of the most laborious; the study you are about to pursue, one of -the most difficult that can be conceived. But you have made your -election. You have severed yourselves from the common herd of youth, -who shrink from every thing that demands exertion and perseverance. You -have chosen between the allurements of pleasure and the honors which -await the disciples of wisdom. You yield to others to keep the -noiseless tenor of their way in inglorious ease. You have elected for -yourselves the path that philosophers and moralists represent as -leading, up a rugged ascent, to the temple of fame. It may be the lot -of some of you to elevate yourselves by talents and unabating zeal, in -the pursuit you have selected. But these distinguished honors are not -to be borne away by the slothful and inert. _Nulla palma sine pulvere_. -He who would win the laurel, must encounter the sweat and toil of the -_arena_. Nor will it suffice that he _occasionally_ presses on to the -goal. If he slackens in his efforts he must lose ground. We roll a -Sisyphean stone to an exalted eminence. He who gives back loses what -his strength had gained; and sinking under the toil his own indolence -increases, will at length give up his unsteady efforts in despair."--1. -T. C. Introduction, p. vi. - -I can add nothing to these striking remarks but my testimony to their -truth. There is, perhaps, no study that tasks the powers of the mind -more severely than that of law. In it, as in the study of mathematics, -nothing is learned at all that is not learned perfectly; and a careless -perusal of Euclid's elements would not be more unprofitable, than that -of a treatise on the laws of property. Nor will a mere effort of memory -be of more avail in the one case than in the other. Both must be -remembered by being understood; by being through the exercise of -intense thought, incorporated as it were into the very texture of the -mind. To this end its powers must be fully and faithfully exerted. As, -in lifting at a weight, you do but throw away your labor, until you man -yourself to the exertion of the full measure of strength necessary to -raise it; so, in this study, you may assure yourselves that all you -have done is of no avail, if you pass from any topic without thoroughly -understanding it. And let no man persuade you that genius can supply -the place of this exertion. Genius does not so manifest itself. The -secret of its wonderful achievements is in the energy which it -inspires. It is because its prompting sting, like the sharp goad of -necessity, urges to herculean effort, that it is seen to accomplish -herculean tasks. He is deceived who fancies himself a favored child of -genius, unless he finds his highest enjoyment in intellectual exercise. -He should go to the toil of thought like the champion to the lists, -seeking in the very _certaminis gaudia_ the rich reward of all his -labors. - -There may be something startling, I fear, in this exhibition of the -difficulties that lie before you, and it is proper to encourage you by -the assurance that by strenuous effort they may be certainly overcome. -Remember too that this effort will be painful only in the outset. The -mind, like the body, soon inures itself to toil, and wears off the -soreness consequent on its first labors. When this is done, the task -becomes interesting in proportion to its difficulty, and subjects which -are understood without effort, and which do not excite the mind to -thought, seem flat and insipid. - -But lest the student should falter and give back in his earlier -struggles, it is the duty of the teacher to afford him such aids as he -can. This is mainly to be done by means of such an analysis and -arrangement of the subject as may prevent confusion, and consequent -perplexity and discouragement. - -There are two sorts of analysis, each proper in its place. The one -_philosophical_, by which the different parts of a subject are so -arranged, as to exhibit in distinct groups those things that depend on -the same or like principles, and such as are marked by characteristic -points of resemblance; giving a sort of honorary precedence to the most -important. The other sort of analysis may be termed _logical_. It is -that method by which different propositions are so arranged, as that no -one of them shall ever be brought under consideration, until all others -which may be necessary to the right understanding of that one, have -been established and explained. Of this last description sire Euclid's -elements, in which it is interesting to observe that no one proposition -could with propriety be made to change its place; each one depending -for its demonstration, directly or indirectly, upon all that have gone -before. - -Blackstone's Commentaries may be cited as an example of _philosophical_ -analysis. He has indeed been careful to avoid perplexing his reader, -through the want of a strictly _logical_ arrangement, by dealing -chiefly in generalities, and never descending to such particulars as -might be unintelligible for want of a knowledge of matters not yet -treated of. This I take to be the reason why his work has been -characterized as being "less an institute of law, than a methodical -guide or elementary work adapted to the commencement of a course of -study. He treats most subjects in a manner too general and cursory to -give the student an adequate knowledge of them. After having pursued -his beautiful arrangement, he is obliged to seek elsewhere for farther -details. After having learnt the advantage of system, he is almost at -the threshold of the science, turned back without a guide, to grope -among the mazy volumes of our crowded libraries. This cannot be right. -If system is of advantage at all, it is of advantage throughout. Were -it practicable, it would be better for the student to have a single -work, which embracing the whole subject, should properly arrange every -principle and every case essential to be known preparatory to his -stepping on the _arena_. Much, very much indeed, would still be left to -be explored in the course of his professional career, independent of -the _apices juris_, which the most vigorous and persevering alone can -hope to attain."--Tucker's Commentary, Introduction, p. 4. - -The justice of these remarks none can deny. It might be thought -unbecoming in me to say how much the writer from whom I quote them has -done to supply such a work as he describes. Yet I cannot suffer any -feeling of delicacy to restrain me from the duty of recommending that -work to your attentive perusal. I shall eagerly, too, avail myself of -his permission to make frequent use of it, as I know of no book which -so well supplies the necessary details to parts of the subject of which -Mr. Blackstone has given only loose and unprofitable sketches. It is to -be lamented that in doing this he has so strictly bound himself to the -arrangement of that writer. That arrangement, as I have remarked, -imposed on Mr. Blackstone the necessity of being occasionally loose and -superficial. For want of one more strictly logical, the Virginia -Commentator often finds it impossible to go into the necessary detail, -without anticipating matters which properly belong to subsequent parts -of his treatise; and too often, where this is impracticable, topics and -terms are introduced, the explanation of which is, perhaps, deferred to -the next volume. - -An instance will illustrate my meaning:--Mr. Blackstone classes -remedies for private wrongs, thus: "first, that which is obtained by -the _mere act_ of the parties themselves; secondly, that which is -effected by the _mere act_ and operation of _law_; and thirdly, that -which arises from _suit_ or _action_ in courts." Now, it probably -occurred to him, that he could not go into details on the two first of -these three heads, without presenting ideas which would be -unintelligible to any who had not already studied the third. In -striving to avoid this, he has touched so lightly upon the other two, -that his remarks on the important subjects of distress and accords, -which come under the first head, leave the student nearly as ignorant -as they found him. For this there was no real necessity, as a knowledge -of the two first heads is by no means necessary, or indeed at all -conducive to the right understanding of the third. Had the pride of -philosophical analysis, and symmetry of arrangement, been sacrificed to -the laws of logic and reason, there was nothing to forbid the -introduction of treatises on these important topics, as copious and -elaborate as those supplied by the diligence and research of the -Virginia Commentator. The manner in which this has been done, has made -it manifest how unfavorable the arrangement of Mr. Blackstone sometimes -is to amplification and minuteness. The essays of the President of the -Court of Appeals on distresses and accords, leave nothing to be -desired. Yet no one can read them profitably without having first -studied the law of remedies by suit or action. - -These, and some other instances of the same sort, have led me to this -determination. Wishing to avail myself of the labors of the Virginia -Commentator, without losing the benefit of Mr. Blackstone's analysis, I -propose to preserve the latter, but to make occasional changes in his -arrangement, substituting one more logical, though perhaps less -philosophical. This, and the postponement of the study of political -law, are the only liberties I propose to take. The fourth division, -which relates to crimes and punishments, will be the last considered. -This will be done not only in a spirit of conformity to Mr. -Blackstone's plan, but also because one of the most important branches -of criminal law has reference to an offence of which no just idea can -be formed without a previous and diligent study of the Constitution and -of the science of government. - -This last mentioned subject, young gentlemen, I should perhaps pass -over but lightly, were I free to do so, contenting myself with a -passing allusion to its connexion with the study of the law, and the -encouragement you should derive from the honorable rewards that await -distinguished merit in our profession. But this is not a mere school of -professional education, and it is made my duty, by the statutes of the -College, to lecture especially on the constitution of this state and of -the United States. In the discharge of this duty it may be necessary to -present views more important to the statesman, than to the mere -practitioner. When I think of the difficulty and high responsibility -attending this part of my task, I would gladly escape from it; but -considerations of its importance and of the benefit to the best -interests of our country which has heretofore resulted from its -faithful execution, come in aid of a sense of duty, and determine me to -meet it firmly and perform it zealously. - -The mind of the student of law is the ground in which correct -constitutional opinions and sound maxims of political law should be -implanted. The study of the common law involves the study of all the -rights which belong to man in a state of society. The history of the -common law is a history of the occasional invasions of these rights, of -the struggles in which such invasions have been repelled, and of the -securities provided to guard against their recurrence. A mind -thoroughly acquainted with the nature and importance of the writ of -_habeas corpus_, and the trial by jury, and rightly understanding the -indestructible character of the right of private property, will hardly -fail to be awake to any attack which may be aimed at liberty from any -quarter. Hence liberty finds in the students of the law a sort of body -guard. Their professional apprenticeship serves as a civil polytechnic -school, where they are taught the use of weapons to be wielded in her -defence. The history of our country from the first dawning of the -revolution is full of proofs and examples of this. The clear view of -the rights of the colonies which led to the Declaration of -Independence, was one which hardly any but lawyers could have taken, -and of the accuracy of which none but lawyers could have been sure. It -was from them the ball of the revolution received its first impulse, -and under their guidance it was conducted to the goal. Some few others -were placed forward by circumstances; but they soon fell back, or found -their proper place of service in the field; leaving the great cause to -be managed by those whose studies qualified them to know where to -insist, and where to concede; when to ward, and when to strike. The -state papers emanating from the first congress will, accordingly, be -found worthy to be compared with the ablest productions of the kind -recorded in history; displaying an ability, temper, and address, which -prepares the reader to be told that a large majority of the members of -that body were lawyers. - -In Mr. Blackstone's introductory lecture are some remarks on the -importance of the study of the law to English gentlemen, strictly -applicable to this view of the subject. "It is," says he, "perfectly -amazing, that there should be no other state of life, no other -occupation, art, or science, in which some method of instruction is not -looked upon as necessary, except only the science of legislation, the -noblest and most difficult of any. Apprenticeships are held necessary -to almost every art, commercial or mechanical: a long course of reading -and study must form the divine, the physician, and the practical -professor of the laws: but every man of superior fortune thinks himself -_born_ a legislator. Yet Tully was of a different opinion: 'it is -necessary,' says he, 'for a senator to be thoroughly acquainted with -the constitution; and this,' he declares, 'is a knowledge of the most -extensive nature; a matter of science, of diligence, of reflection; -without which no senator can possibly be fit for his office.'" - -If the part in the government allotted to the people of England renders -this admonition important to them, how much more important must it be -to us, who are in theory and in fact _our own rulers_. Not only is -every office accessible to each one of us; but each, even in private -life, as soon as he puts on manhood, assumes a "place in the -commonwealth." In practice, as in theory, the SOVEREIGNTY OF THE STATE -is in us. _Born to the purple_, the duties of that high destiny attach -upon us at our birth; and unless we qualify ourselves to discharge -them, we must cease to reproach the ignorance and folly, the passion -and presumption, which so often disgrace the sovereigns of the old -world, and heap wretchedness and ruin on their subjects. The same -causes will have the like effects here as there. Power does not imply -wisdom or justice, whether in the hands of the few or the many: and it -is only by the diligent study of our duties in this important station -that we can qualify ourselves so to administer its functions, as to -save the free institutions inherited from our fathers, from the same -reproach which the testimony of history fixes upon all other -governments. - -Not only is this true in reference to us as well as to the kings of the -earth, but it is more emphatically true of us than of them. Whatever be -their theory of sovereignty, and however they may prate about _divine -right_, they all know, and feel, that, after all, they are but _kings -by sufferance_. They may talk of absolute sovereignty, and claim for -government that sort of _omnipotence_ which is said to reside in the -British parliament. But, after all, they know and feel, that there is -much they cannot do, because there is much they dare not do. The course -of events now passing in England is full of proof of this. We have just -seen that same omnipotent parliament, new-modelling itself to suit the -wishes of the people. This act indeed, was itself an exertion of this -pretended omnipotence, but wisely and discreetly exercised, in -surrendering power. It was certainly done with a very bad grace; and at -this moment we see that body anxiously watching the temper of the -multitude, and adapting its measures, not to the views of its members, -not even to the views of the constituent body, but to the real or -supposed interests of the great unrepresented mass. Such is the check, -which in spite of all positive institutions, the physical force of -numbers, however degraded, and, professedly, disregarded, must exercise -over their rulers; and in this check, they find a motive to justice, -forbearance, and circumspection, which, in a measure, restrains the -abuse of power. - -But may not we, the sovereign citizens of these states, abuse power -too? When men are numerous and "strong enough to set their duties at -defiance, do they cease to be duties any longer?" Does that which would -be unjust as the act of ninety-nine, become just, as being the act of -an hundred? Is it in the power of numbers to alter the nature of -things, and to justify oppression, though it should fall on the head of -only one victim? It would be easy to point to instances in which we all -believe that majorities have done great wrong; and that under such -wrongs we have suffered and are still suffering we all know. But where -is the check on such abuse of power? Constitutional authority and -physical force are both on the same side, and if the _wisdom_ and -_justice_ of those who wield both does not freely afford redress, there -arc no means of enforcing it. "There is no sanction to any contract -against the will of prevalent power." - -The justice of these ideas is recognized in the forms of all our -governments. The limitations on the powers of congress and the state -legislatures, are all predicated on the certain truth "that majorities -may find or imagine an interest in doing wrong." Hence there are many -things which cannot be lawfully done by a bare majority; and many more, -which no majority, however great, is authorised to do. Two-thirds of -the senate must concur in a sentence of impeachment. The life and -property of an individual cannot be taken away but by the unanimous -voice of his triers; and all the branches of all our governments -collectively cannot lawfully enact a bill of attainder, or an _ex post -facto_ statute. - -But though such acts are forbidden by the constitution, they may -nevertheless be passed, and judges may be found to enforce them, if -those holding legislative and judicial offices shall be so minded. The -constituents, too, of a majority of the legislature may approve and -demand such acts. Where then is the security that such things will not -be done? Where can it be but in the enlightened sense of justice and -right in the constituent body? - -I am not sure that such restraints on the powers of public -functionaries are not even more necessary in a republican government -than in any other. A king can scarcely have a personal interest in -ruining one portion of his dominions for the benefit of the rest, and -he would not dare to ruin the whole, while a spark of intelligence and -spirit remained among the people. But in a republic, whenever the -inclination and the power to do such a wrong concur, the very nature of -the case secures the rulers from all fear of personal consequences. The -majority is with them. Their own constituents are with them. To these -is their first duty; and shall they hesitate to do that which is to -benefit their constituents, out of tenderness to those who are not -their constituents? We know how such questions are answered, when the -occasion is one where a _fixed majority_ have a _fixed interest_ in the -proposed wrong. Is not this the reason why legislative encroachment so -much disposes men to acquiesce in executive usurpation? Is it not this, -which, when the barriers of constitutional restraint are seen to fall, -drives minorities, _as by a sort of fatal instinct_, to seek shelter -under the arm of a _common master_, from the all pervading tyranny of -majorities exercising the power of _universal legislation_? The wrongs -of America were the act of the parliament of England, goaded on by the -people. It was they who claimed a right to legislate in all things for -the colonies. It was they who demanded a revenue from America; and the -colonies, eagerly looking to the crown for protection, maintained an -unshaken loyalty, until the king was seen to take part with their -oppressors. The wrongs of Ireland are the act of the people of England. -Ireland is the rival of England in agriculture, manufactures and -commerce; and every concession to the former, seems to the multitude to -be something taken from the prosperity of the latter. But the -representation of Ireland in parliament is to that of England as one to -five; and when the Irish people cry to parliament for redress, they are -answered _as all appeals from minorities are answered by the -representatives of majorities_. But how would they be answered if the -representative and constituent bodies were both thoroughly instructed -in the sacred character and paramount authority and importance of the -_duties_ which belong to the high function of sovereignty? We justly -deny and deride the divine right of kings; and we assert and maintain -_the divine right of the people to self government_. And it is a divine -right. It is a corollary from the right and duty to fulfil the purposes -of our being, which accompany each one of us into the world. The right -and the duty both come from the author of that being. He imposes the -one when he gives the other, and thus fixes on us a responsibility -which clings to us through life. We deceive ourselves if we think to -get rid of any portion of this responsibility by entering into -partnership with others, each one of whom brings into the concern the -same rights, the same duties, and the same responsibilities;--neither -more nor less than ourselves. We do but multiply, and divide again by -the same number. Each receives, by way of dividend, the same amount of -right, duty, and responsibility that he carried into the common stock. -Of so high a nature are these, and so vast are the interests with which -they are connected, that it has been truly said, that, whether we mount -the hustings or go to the polls, we may well tremble to give or to -receive the power which is there conferred. - -Gentlemen; if these ideas be just, how important is the duty imposed on -me by that statute of the college which requires me to lecture on -constitutional law! How desirable is it that there should be every -where schools, in which the youth of our country should be thoroughly -imbued with correct opinions and just sentiments on this subject! It -was Agesilaus, I think, who said that "the business of education was to -prepare the boy for the duties of the man." How pre-eminently -important, then, must be that branch of education which is to qualify -him to perform this highest of all social duties, and to bear worthily -his part in that relation which has been characterized as "a -partnership in all science, in all art, in every virtue, and in all -perfection; a partnership, not only between those who are living, but -between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are yet -to be born." - -These striking words, which are from the pen of the celebrated Edmund -Burke, call to mind the high testimony which he has borne in favor of -the study of the law, as a school of political rights. After having -acted an important part in procuring the repeal of the stamp act, he -made his last effort in favor of the rights of the colonies, in March, -1775. On that occasion, laboring to dissuade the British parliament -from pushing America to extremities, he descanted on the love of -freedom, which he pronounced to be the predominating feature in the -character of our fathers. The prevalence of this passion he ascribed to -a variety of causes, none more powerful than the number of lawyers, and -the familiarity of the people with the principles of the common law. -His ideas I will give you in his own words, for it is only in his own -words that his ideas ever can be fittingly expressed. - -He says, "In no country perhaps in the world is the law so general a -study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful; and in most -provinces it takes the lead. The greater number of the deputies sent to -the congress were lawyers. But all who read, and most do read, endeavor -to obtain some smattering in that science.... This study renders men -_acute_, _inquisitive_, _dexterous_, _prompt in attack_, _ready in -defence_, _full of resources_. In other countries, the people, more -simple, and of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill principle in -government only by an actual grievance; _here they anticipate the evil, -and judge of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the -principle. They augur misgovernment at a distance, and snuff the -approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze._" - -Such, young gentlemen, is the important and useful influence which the -study of our profession enables its members to exert. But if, instead -of preparing their minds by this study, the very men to whom the people -look up for light, do but provide themselves with a few set phrases -contrived to flatter and cajole them, what but evil can come of it? - -"The people can do no wrong." Why! this if but what all sovereigns hear -from their flatterers. In one sense, it is indeed true of both, for -there is no human tribunal before which either king or people can be -arraigned. But neither can make right and wrong change places and -natures. - -"_Vox populi, vox Dei._" "It is the voice of God." So said the Jews of -the impious Herod. But the judgments of the insulted Deity showed how -mere a worm he was; and _his_ judgments are not limited to kings, nor -withheld by numbers. We may preserve all the outward forms of freedom, -the checks and balances of the constitution may remain to all -appearance undisturbed, and yet he who can "curse our blessings" may -give us over to all the evils of despotism, if we do not "lay to heart" -the high duties of that freedom wherewith he has made us free. - -I am sensible, young gentlemen, that, to many, these ideas will not be -acceptable. And for an obvious reason. "Men like well enough," it is -said, "to hear of their power, but have an extreme disrelish to be told -of their duties." Yet in a government of equal rights, these are -strictly correlative. The rights of each individual are the exact -measure of the duties which others owe to him, and of coarse, of those -he owes to others. This is so obviously true, that it needs but be -stated, to be recognized at once as a man recognizes his face in the -glass. But _he_ "goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner -of man he was." Let not us do likewise. - -But there is another reason why many will hear with impatience of the -difficulties attendant on the proper discharge of duties, which are too -often made the low sport of a holiday revel. None can deny the truth -and justice of the remarks already quoted from Mr. Blackstone; but few, -I fear, are willing to bring them home, and to acknowledge the -necessity of such severe preparation to qualify themselves to exercise -the franchises of a citizen. Let me hope, young gentlemen, that you -will view the matter in a different light, and go to your task with the -more cheerfulness, from the assurance that you will thus be qualified -to derive a blessing to yourselves and to your country, from the -discreet and conscientious exercise of a privilege, which others, from -a want of correct information and just sentiments, so often pervert to -the injury of both. - -Before I conclude, give me leave to offer a few remarks on a subject in -which every member of the faculty has an equal and common interest. If -there be any thing by which the University of William and Mary has been -advantageously distinguished, it is the liberal and magnanimous -character of its discipline. It has been the study of its professors to -cultivate at the same time, the intellect, the principles, and the -deportment of the student, laboring with equal diligence to infuse the -spirit of the scholar and the spirit of the gentleman. He comes to us -as a gentleman. As such we receive and treat him, and resolutely refuse -to know him in any other character. He is not harassed with petty -regulations; he is not insulted and annoyed by impertinent -_surveillance_. Spies and informers have no countenance among us. We -receive no accusation but from the conscience of the accused. His honor -is the only witness to which we appeal; and should he be even capable -of prevarication or falsehood, we admit no proof of the fact. But I beg -you to observe, that in this cautious and forbearing spirit of our -legislation, you have not only proof that we have no disposition to -harass you with unreasonable requirements; but a pledge that such -regulations as we have found it necessary to make, _will be enforced_. -If we did not mean to execute our laws, it might do little harm to have -them minute and much in detail on paper. It is because we _do_ mean to -enforce them that we are cautious to require nothing which may not be -exacted without tyranny or oppression, without degrading ourselves or -dishonoring you. - -The effect of this system, in inspiring a high and scrupulous sense of -honor, and a scorn of all disingenuous artifice, has been ascertained -by long experience, and redounds to the praise of its authors. That it -has not secured a regular discharge of all academical duties, or -prevented the disorders which characterize the wildness of youth, is -known and lamented. But we believe and know, that he who cannot be held -to his duty, but by base and slavish motives, can never do honor to his -instructers; while we are equally sure that such a system as keeps up a -sense of responsibility to society at large, is most conducive to high -excellence. We think it right, therefore, to adapt our discipline to -those from whom excellence may be expected, rather than to those from -whom mediocrity may barely be hoped. Such a system is valuable too, as -forming a sort of middle term between the restraints of pupilage and -the perfect freedom and independence of manhood. Experience shows that -there is a time of life, when the new born spirit of independence, and -the prurience of incipient manhood will not be repressed. They will -break out in the _airs_ or in the _graces_ of manhood. Between these we -have to choose. The youth of eighteen treated as a _boy_, exhibits the -_former_. Treated as a _man_, he lays aside these forever, and displays -the _latter_. This system is thus believed to afford the best security -against such offences as stain the name of the perpetrator. Of such our -records bear no trace; nor is there, perhaps, a single individual of -all who have matriculated here, that would blush to meet any of his old -associates in this school of honor. - -May we not hope then, young gentlemen, when so much is trusted to your -magnanimity, that the dependence will not fail us? May we not hope, -when we are seen anxious to make our relation, not only a source of -profit, but of satisfaction to you, that you will not wantonly make it -a source of uneasiness and vexation to us? I persuade myself that you, -at least, commence your studies with such dispositions as we desire. If -this be so, there is one short rule by which you may surely carry them -into effect. "_Give diligent attention to your studies._" This is the -best security against all unpleasant collision with your teachers, and -against that weariness of spirit which seeks relief in excess or -mischief. It carries with it the present happiness, which arises from a -consciousness of well doing; it supplies that knowledge which -encourages to farther researches, and renders study a pleasure; it -establishes habits of application, the value of which will be felt in -all the future business of life; and lays the foundation of that -intellectual superiority by which you hope to prosper in the world, and -to be distinguished from the ignoble multitude who live but to die and -be forgotten. - -_Williamsburg, October 27, 1834_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE MARCH OF MIND. - -"_Tempora Mutantur._" - - -The present is emphatically the age of useful invention and scientific -discovery; and it is the peculiar good fortune of the present -generation, that the indefatigable labors of a few gigantic minds have -opened to it new and expanded sources of enjoyment, by the development -of principles which have long eluded the grasp of philosophy, and by -their practical application to the most ordinary affairs of life. Men -are not now bewildered by the imposing mysteries in which scientific -truth has been so long enveloped; nor are they deterred from a bold -investigation into the solidity of theories and hypotheses, by the -studied ambiguity of phrase in which the votaries of learning have -veiled them. They have learned properly to appreciate the fallacy of -those abstruse speculations and metaphysical researches, into which so -many thousands, in pursuit of some vain chimera, have been inextricably -involved--and have erected the standard of _utility_ as that alone by -which all the lucubrations of moonstruck enthusiasts, and all the -experiments of visionary projectors are to be rigidly scanned and -tested. The practical benefits which have resulted from the rapid march -of mind, are to be seen in the application of steam to the propulsion -of boats, and in the innumerable rail roads, canals, and other -stupendous improvements, which have developed the resources of this -extensive country, and multiplied the blessings so bounteously bestowed -upon it by providence. But in the first glow of astonishment and -exultation which these have excited in the minds of men, numerous -beneficial changes of minor importance have followed the march of -intellect, which from their comparative insignificance, have almost -escaped observation. - -Formerly, the professors of the complex sciences of law, medicine, and -divinity, were regarded as exalted by their attainments, to an -immeasurable height of superiority over the mass of mankind, because -they shrouded the truths and principles of science from the vulgar eye, -by a veil of unintelligible jargon and grandiloquent technicalities, -entirely above the ordinary powers of comprehension. Years of laborious -and incessant toil were requisite to master the hidden complexities of -those venerated and "time-honored" professions; and he, who with -martyr-like resolution and unwearied perseverance, devoted his time and -talents to their attainment, was regarded by the "_vulgus ignobile_" -with sentiments of respect and admiration, nearly approaching to the -idolatrous reverence of a Hindoo, for the fabled virtues of his bloody -Juggernaut. But the illusion has at last been dispelled by the -refulgent light of truth, and those illustrious individuals, the -Luthers of the age, who have stripped these hoary errors of the veil -which concealed their enormity, may with merited exultation and triumph -exclaim, "_Nous avons changé toute cela!_" The art of economising time -has been simplified, and subjected to the grasp of the most obtuse -intellect; so that a science which formerly required years of intense -and unremitted study, united with long experience and observation, is -now thoroughly understood and mastered in a fortnight! So rapid indeed -has been the march of intellect, sweeping from its path obstacles -heretofore deemed insurmountable, and scaling the most impregnable -fortifications of philosophy, with a force no less astonishing than -irresistible, that many of our most profound adepts in the "glorious -science" of the law, are (_mirabile dictu!_) at once initiated into all -its mysteries by a single perusal of "Blackstone's Commentaries" and -the "Revised Code!" instead of toiling his way up the steep ascent of -fame by consuming the midnight oil, by exploring the dark and -forbidding chambers of the temple of law, dragging forth truth from the -musty volumes of antiquity, and searching the origin of long -established principles. Among the feudal customs of our Saxon -progenitors, a man may now become "like Mansfield wise, and Old Forster -just," by one month's attendance at the bar of a county court! At the -expiration of that period, he can rivet an admiring audience in fixed -attention, by the strains of Demosthenian eloquence, in which he asks -if "the court will hear a motion on a delivery bond?" And will astound -some illiterate ignoramus, by the consequential pomposity with which he -prates of "contingent remainders," "executory devises," and all the -labyrinthian subtleties of nisi prius! No one will then contest his -right to perambulate the streets, with all the ostentatious dignity of -a man "learned in the law," and to parade before the eyes of the -admiring rabble, his colored bag of most formidable -dimensions,--albeit, it may be filled with cheese and crackers to stay -his stomach in the intervals of business. - -But the inappreciable benefits which the "March of Intellect" has -showered upon mankind, are easily discovered by referring to the -stupendous revolutions it has achieved, not only in the science of law -but in divinity, medicine, education, manners, and morals. Men do not -now venerate the ancient fathers of the church for the profound -erudition and wonderful acquirements displayed in those ponderous tomes -which now and then greet the eyes of the bibliopole, exciting the same -degree of astonishment as the appearance of a comet illumining the -immensity of space with its brilliant scintillations, or some _lusus -naturć_ like the Siamese twins. Far from it. Modern philosophers have -discovered the inutility and absurdity of wading through the voluminous -discussions of controversial theologists, and tracing the origin of -some religious dogma or doctrinal schism, which has for ages furnished -these pugnacious wiseacres with food for inquiry and research. Instead -of wasting the time necessarily consumed in these ridiculous studies, -men who formerly might have dragged out their lives in the vulgar -vocation of a tailor, a butcher, or a hatter, spring forth in a single -week armed cap-a-pie to defend their religion from the unhallowed -assaults of infidels, and amply qualified to expound the sacred texts, -and deal out damnation with the indiscriminate prodigality of a -spendthrift, for the first time cursed with the means of gratifying his -extravagant propensities. - -Formerly too, the most attentive and patient observation of the -progressive development of the mental faculties of a child were -necessary to enable a parent to adapt his education to the sphere of -life in which nature had destined him to move. Innumerable obstacles -were to be encountered in tutoring his mind to the comprehension of the -profession for which he was intended; and, perhaps, after years of -incessant toil and intense parental anxiety, the young stripling -blasted all the hopes of his kindred, by either becoming the hero of a -racefield or the magnus apollo of a grog shop, or distinguished his -manhood by the puerile follies of youth, or the incurable stupidity of -an idiot. But the "March of Mind" has obviated or removed all these -difficulties, by the discovery of the renowned science of phrenology. A -parent, in this blessed age of intellectual illuminism, may by an -examination of certain craniological protuberances, ascertain with -mathematical exactness, whether his child is a hero or a coward, a -philosopher or a--fool; and may regulate his education in conformity to -the result. The safety and well being of society, too, is thus -encompassed with additional safeguards, which will effectually protect -it from those evils which have heretofore been only partially -suppressed by legislation. If any ill favored monster of the human -species happens to have the organ of destructiveness largely -"developed," (_ut verbum est_) and not counteracted by any antagonist -organ,--all the murders, rapes and thefts which he is morally certain -to perpetrate,--with their attendant train of want, calamity and ruin, -may be at once prevented by hanging the scoundrel in terrorem, as a -kind of scarecrow to all evil doers. A desideratum in political economy -will thus be also attained. The accounts of those "caterpillars of the -commonwealth," clerks, sheriffs, lawyers, _et id omne genus_, who swarm -around the treasury in verification of the old maxim of Plautus, "_ubi -mel, ibi apes_,"--(Anglice--Where there is money, _there_ are lawyers,) -are balanced without the payment of a cent; for it is obvious that -there is no necessity for all the tedious formalities of a trial at -law, the guilt of the murderer being already ascertained and summarily -punished by this _preventive_ justice, and the commonwealth of course -exempted from the expense of a prosecution. - -It would require a volume to enumerate all the advantages which have -resulted from the discovery of this science. But even these are about -to be quadrupled by the successful experiments recently made in the -immortal and euphoniously titled science of phrenodontology, by which a -man's _grinders_ are regarded as the unerring indices of his habits, -manners and propensities; and should these last be of an evil nature, -they can be entirely eradicated by the extraction of such of the -_incissores_ as indicate their existence. There is no necessity -whatever of inculcating self denial, regular habits, fortitude and -virtue, to correct the depravity and vice of any individual. Only knock -out his teeth, (or as that method is somewhat too summary,) have them -extracted _secundum artem_ by a dentist, and you instantly metamorphose -him into a paragon of moral purity! - -But one of the principal benefits of the "March of Mind," is the -salutary reformation effected in the opinions of mankind, in relation -to numerous important subjects. All those low and grovelling ideas -which once tenanted the crania of our honest yeomanry as to the -education of their children, have now evaporated into thin air. Instead -of tying their sons to a vulgar plough, bronzing their visages to the -complexion of an Indian, as was formerly the absurd practice, they are -now transplanted into the genial hothouse of a town life, where they -are soon installed in all the fashionable paraphernalia of tights, -dickey, and safety chain; and astonish their honest old dads by the -dexterity with which they flourish a yardstick, and by the surprising -volubility with which they can chatter nonsense, _a la mode du bon -ton_. I have often been enraptured with the incontrovertible evidence -of the "March of Mind," when I saw one of these praiseworthy -youngsters, with his crural appendages, cased in a pair of eelskin -inexpressibles, and his nasal adjunct inflamed to that rubicund -complexion which Shakspeare has immortalized in the jovial Bardolph, -quiz a country greenhorn, and _cul_, in the genuine Brummel style, some -vulgar, lowborn, mechanic acquaintance, who insolently aspired to the -honor of a nod! The improvement too, in the education of our young -ladies, is "confirmation strong as proof of holy writ," of the rapid -and resistless march of science and intellect. With a precocity of -talent which would have absolutely dumbfoundered a belle of the olden -time, they now arrive at full maturity at the age of thirteen; when - - "My dukedom to a beggarly denier," - -they can out-manoeuvre the most consummate coquette of fifty! They -perfect their education with almost the rapidity of light; and prattle -most bewitchingly in French or Italian, before their pretty mouths have -been sullied by their vulgar vernacular. The odious and despicable -practice of knitting stockings and baking pies, fit only for a race of -Goths in an age of Vandalism, has been inscribed with "_Ilium fuit_," -and is now patronised only by the rustic _canaille_, who still adhere -to the horrid custom of rising at the dawn of day and attending to -household business. Their proficiency too, in the science of -diacousticks, or the doctrine of sounds, is truly amazing--and the -whole _posse comitatus_ of foreign fiddlers, jugglers, and mountebanks -who kindly condescend to instruct them in music, (as they facetiously -term it) are often thrown into raptures by the ease with which they -produce every variety of noise on a piano, from the deafening roar of a -northwester to the objurgatory grunt of a Virginia porker, -unceremoniously ousted from his luxurious ottoman of mud! - -But, as Byron says, greater "than this, than these, than all," are the -wonderful phenomena which have occurred in the science of medicine. The -physicians of modern times, have snatched the imperishable laurels from -the brows of Galen and Hippocrates, and have compelled Old Esculapius -himself, to "hide his diminished head!" It had long been a source of -the most poignant regret to the philanthropic observer of the ills and -afflictions incident to human nature, that the benign system of medical -jurisprudence, designed originally for the alleviation of human -suffering, had been so dilatory and uncertain in its operation, and so -fatally ill adapted to the eradication of numerous diseases from the -human frame, as to effect only a partial accomplishment of its -beneficent purpose. This radical disadvantage in that system of medical -science, might reasonably have been attributed to the want of a proper -firmness and adventurous temerity in its practitioners;--probably, -also, it might have resulted from their lamentable ignorance of the -structure and conformation of the human frame. This system, as was to -have been expected, had met with numerous advocates, principally in -consequence of their perfect personal indemnity from the frequently -fatal result of their ignorance or mismanagement; it being well known -that under this system a practitioner might, if he so chose, administer -a deadly poison to his patient, who would naturally "shuffle off this -mortal coil," while his afflicted relatives would piously attribute his -decease to a dispensation of Providence; and the physician, composedly -pocketing his fees, would have the satisfaction of seeing himself -eulogised in his patient's obituary, as a man of "science and skill." -It is obvious that under this system the patient's life was but - - "A vapour eddying in the whirl of chance," - -and the distressing frequency with which we were called on to attend -the remains of a fellow being to the gloomy prisons of the dead, -imperatively demanded a radical and extensive reform. - -But fortunately for the human species, the "March of Mind" has led to -medical discoveries which have chained up the monster Death in -impotence, and rendered him a plaything to "the faculty." The long and -pompous pageants of M. D.'s diplomas, &c &c. have ceased to overawe the -eager aspirant for medical celebrity, and he now steps forward in the -path of fame at the age of nineteen, _maximus in magnis_, greatest -among the great! Diseases that formerly baffled the utmost skill of -science, and preyed upon their victims for years, are now thoroughly -extirpated in an hour! The long catalogue of noxious medicines with -which the pharmacopia was crammed, and which served no other purpose -than to swell - - "The beggarly account of empty boxes," - -which the shelves of a rascally apothecary presented to view, are now -discarded; and their places are supplied by medicines so simple and so -efficacious, that the value of life, once considered so inestimable, -has actually undergone a considerable diminution, merely because of the -ease with which it may be enjoyed. It is now no longer necessary to -watch the various diagnostics of an obdurate disease through their -origin and development; it is no longer important that the unfortunate -patient should be bolstered up in bed for months, and his stomach -annihilated by a nauseous diet of mush and water gruel. This was but -the quackery of the rapacious cormorants, who grew rich upon the -credulity of their dupes. The patient may be on his feet in half an -hour, by the salutary operation of some harmless medicine, which -produces no other evil effect than a remarkable elongation of the -visage, and divers contortions of the abdominal viscera! Instead of -first ascertaining to what extent the body of the patient has been -debilitated by the ravages of his disorder, it is only requisite to -refer to a mystical talisman, vulgarly called a _teetotum_, which -entirely supersedes the necessity of thought or reflection; and whose -final position, after performing sundry gyrations on its point, informs -the practitioner with unerring certainty, whether his patient should be -_puked, sweated, or blistered!_ The result is certain. The most -complicated case of pulmonary consumption is instantly and thoroughly -cured by _steam_; and an obstinate fever, produced by a superabundance -of bile upon the stomach, is effectually extirpated by an injection of -_cayenne pepper!_ As revolutions never retrograde, these important -changes in medical jurisprudence will only terminate in the actual -resuscitation of a dead body, by an external application of camphorated -salts! a "consummation devoutly to be wished," and most certain to be -effected, by the rejection of all mineral medicines,--which the "March -of Mind" has demonstrated to be hurtful,--and the substitution in their -stead of a few simple vegetable remedies, accurately arranged, -classified, and _numbered!_ - -But enough. No man can reflect upon these things, without applying, as -I do, the trite quotation, "_tempora mutantur_," &c. Although it has -been used for the ten thousandth time, by the whole tribe of newspaper -scribblers and juvenile poetasters, yet it has never been more -_apropos_. Times _are_ changed; and "oh, _how_ changed!" What mind does -not expand at the delightful contemplation of these grand revolutions; -and who does not look forward with eagerness to the memorable era when -all the vulgar _bourgeois_ qualities of common sense, common decency, -and common virtue, will fade into nothingness before the resistless and -all powerful "March of Mind!" - -V. - -_Lynchburg, Oct. 30, 1834_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE VILLAGE ON FOURTH JULY 183--. - -A TALE. - - Ergo agite, et lćtum cuncti celebremus honorem.--_Virgil_. - - Risum teneatis amici?--_Horace_. - - -I do not know that the celebration of a Fourth of July in a country -village has ever been thought worthy of appearing in print; nor do I -know that a tale, founded on such a celebration, has ever been written; -and I doubt whether the fancy of any of our geniuses has ever pictured -such a subject, either with the pen or pencil. Many of your readers -will perhaps be amazed at the thought of such a subject for a tale; but -permit me to ask, why not a tale of the Fourth of July as well as any -other? Is it because the hearts of a free people, rejoicing on the -anniversary of the day which gave them liberty, throb in harmony, and -therefore can afford neither novelty nor variety? Granted. But are -there not various modes of manifesting, more or less appropriately, the -inward emotions of our hearts? Are not our ideas dissimilar as to the -manner of exhibiting our feelings, according to our various means, -situations and vocations in life--high or low--in cities, towns and -country? Then wherefore not? We have read of tales of wo, and tales of -bliss, and tales of neither; and, this being the case, I am imboldened -to this undertaking, leaving to the better judgment of the reader to -assign it to whichever class it properly belongs. - - * * * * * - -At the foot of a slope, and on the right of a stream compressed between -two abrupt and craggy hills, covered with oaks and pines, stands a -small village, remarkable only for the rude and romantic scenery which -surrounds it. Access to it from the left side of the stream can only be -gained by a rocky, rugged and declivous road, the greater part of which -seems to have been either blasted or hewed out of the side of a hill, -around which it winds at a considerable height above the water--and, at -its termination is a neat frame bridge, which when crossed admits you -into the village. This stream bounds a conterminous portion of two -counties bordering upon the Potomac, into which it empties itself at -about five miles below the village, where the influx and reflux of the -tides are felt. Although there is considerable depth of water at the -village sufficient to float vessels of a large size, yet the clayey -alluvion brought down by the stream, and reacted upon by the river at -their junction, becomes a deposite which forms a kind of bar, over -which none but small crafts can pass. The number of inhabitants may be -estimated at from two to three hundred, the greater part of whom are -attached to a cotton factory but recently erected, and the remainder, -with the exception of a few families of consideration, are more or less -connected with the country and merchant mills, established many years -since, from which the village has its origin and perhaps its name. - -The beating of a drum, and the shrill and false tones of a fife, at -dawn of day, betokened to the villagers who still reposed upon their -pillows, that the glorious birthday of independence was likely not to -be passed unobserved, as hitherto it had been. This novel, and, in -effect, startling ushering of the day, soon brought them upon their -feet, and ere the sun had peered over the eastern, or crested the brows -of the western, mounts, the streets, such as they are, had become quite -enlivened. Most of the villagers had never heard the sounds of martial -music, and the greater number of those who had, were indebted to the -troops that had passed through the village during the late war. Those -who had never seen nor heard the sounds of a drum and fife, disclosed -their amazement by their gazing eyes and mouths agape. To a looker on, -the performers could not but be remarkable. A European, tall, erect, -lank, and already tippled, thumped away upon a drum, the vellum of the -nether end of which was rent,--followed by a stout, awry necked, -crumped backed and limping African, as _fifer_--a contrast at once -striking and ludicrous, hobbled along, most earnestly occupied with -their _reveille_, heedless of the gaze of the wonderstruck -multitude--the din of their music echoing and reverberating from the -surrounding hills. The _drummer_ had been such in the United States -Marines, and had but recently quitted the service--and though not -sober, his performance was far from being bad. The _fifer_ had served -in that capacity during the revolutionary war. His finger, stiff from -long disuse of the instrument, which he had preserved with religious -care since that epoch, did not allow him to give but an imperfect -specimen of his store of marches and quicksteps in vogue at that time, -and his recollection of them was scarcely better; the tunes of the -present times he knew nothing about. The drum used upon this occasion -had been _put hors de combat_ during the late war, as the troops passed -through the village. This, together with the hallowed fife and veteran -_fifer_, in connection with the day, did not fail to give rise to -associations eminently calculated to excite enthusiasm. - -It appears that the celebration of the day had originated with, and was -suggested by, an honest son and follower of St. Crispin, (who had lived -in a city and had acquired some knowledge of _l'art militaire_,) whose -ambition to command a corps had led him to the most indefatigable -exertion to inspire the villagers with the spirit of _amor patrić_, and -success having crowned his exertion, application had been made for -commissions as well as for arms, in order to organize themselves in -time for a parade on the approaching festival. In this however they -were disappointed; for they had obtained neither when the day arrived, -and having determined to celebrate it, in spite of their disappointment -they would. - -This resolution soon circulated through the adjacent country called the -_forest_--its inhabitants _foresters_, who, anxious to witness the -parade--"_the spree_," as they termed it, came flocking into the -village on foot and horseback, singly and doubly, et cetera, by every -byroad and pathway which led to and terminated there. By meridian the -gathering was so great that the oldest inhabitants declared that such -an influx was not within their recollection. As regards the character -of the _foresters_, men and women, they are an honest, hardy, -industrious and independent people, and on Sundays, high-days and -holydays, cut a very respectable figure in the way of apparel and -ornaments--and for this occasion particularly, no pains had been spared -to make an _eclat_. - -In consequence of the disappointment alluded to, every firearm that -could be found was put under requisition, and the entire forenoon was -consumed in collecting and preparing them for use, during which the -music to arms continued without intermission. It was in this interval -that the buzzing of an expected oration was heard, which swelled into a -report, and heightened not a little the pre-existing enthusiasm. - -Discharges of guns repeated at irregular intervals on the skirts of the -village, was an indication that the parade was about to commence, and -at a little after twelve o'clock the soldiery made their appearance. -They wore no uniform, but were clad in their best "Sunday go to -meetings;" and in the ranks were many of the foresters who had joined -them-- - - "The rustic honors of the scythe and share" - -being given up for the time, for the warlike implements then to be -used. - -Their arms were of divers descriptions; double barrelled guns, deer -guns, ducking guns, and a blunderbuss, with powderflasks and horns -swung round their shoulders,--and, volunteers in number exceeding arms, -poles were substituted. A cutlass distinguished the captain; a -horsewhip the lieutenant; a cane the second lieutenant. These three, -together with the soldierly appearance of some, the rigidity of others, -the apparent _nonchalance_ of a few, and the deformity of several, -presented a _tout ensemble_ the most grotesque and diverting. - -In the midst of this band was a small man, the stiffness of whose -carriage and the peculiarity of whose countenance attracted the -attention of the crowd. His eyes were small--appeared to be black and -twinkling, and were set into the deep recesses of sockets which -projected considerably, and surmounted by dark shaggy brows; his face -was contracted--his features small--and his forehead, though -retreating, was not sufficiently so to denote the entire absence of the -reflective faculty, according to phrenology. In his hand he bore a -scroll, and the dignity which his stiffness was meant to affect, was -reasonably enough imputed to the importance which he attached to the -part he was to act. The scroll was the Declaration of Independence, -which was to be read by him; and from the peculiarly reverential manner -with which it was held in his hand, he seemed to feel that it was an -instrument coeval with the birth of, and coexisting with, a free and -powerful nation, and demanded deference even from the very touch of his -hand. This man was not altogether devoid of talent, for he had -succeeded in earning for himself among the villagers a reputation of -high literary acquirements; and on hearing the report of an expected -oration, (suspicion fixed on him the origin of it,) had spontaneously -proposed to verify it. Of course the proposition was well received, and -dissipated at once any uncertainty. The spot at which it should be -delivered was soon decided upon and designated--well known--and but a -short distance out of the village. Thither the multitude repaired in -advance of the military, who were not to arrive there until all the -necessary arrangements for their reception had been made. This duty -devolved upon a self-constituted committee of arrangement, who -discharged it with all the zeal and ability which the briefness of the -notice would allow. - -The locality was well chosen, and seemed to have been designed by -nature for the scene for which it was now appropriated. From the -village and around the foot of the hill, winds a path that leads by an -easy ascent to the summit of another hill, capped by a grove or cluster -of huge pines and oaks, which overshadow a surface clear of undergrowth -and interspersed with rocky prominences. These prominences, though -rough, answered admirably well the purpose of seats for the auditory, -and one of them being flat and overswelling the rest, was pitched upon -as a rostrum from which the orator should hold forth. On one side of -it, which might be called the rear, was planted a staff, to which was -tacked an old bunting American ensign or flag, pierced with holes, -received at the battle of Plattsburg. At the end of the staff hung a -red woollen cap, the symbol of liberty--its color emblematic of the -ardor of its spirit, as explained by the committee. At the foot of the -staff stood a cask of "_old corn_," for the refreshment and -entertainment of the _corps militaire_, in honor of the day and orator. - -The village and country belles and beaux, attired in their gayest -possible manner, by way of regard, were suffered to have precedence in -the selection of places, and the former had possessed themselves of -those crags which might best suit them to the convenient hearing of the -oration. The assembled people were now impatiently awaiting the arrival -of the orator and escort, when they were at length descried wending -their way up hill, at the tune of _Molbrook_, sent forth to the air -from the fife in fragments--and having arrived, the orator was -conducted in form to the rostrum by the committee, which he mounted -with unfaltering steps. - -The bustle and buzz incident to the choosing of convenient places amid -the rugged area having subsided, the _coup d'oeil_ presented was well -worthy the pencil and genius of a Hogarth; the pen can convey but a -faint idea. The gay females, elevated upon the asperated crags, -overtopping every other object, seemed to shed lustre and life upon -every thing around. Their attendants or beaux, resting in various -postures at their feet, or lolling against a tree hard by, proved that -the village and sylvan belles command the devotions of the rude sex no -less than those of courts and cities. The boys were perched upon every -oaken bough that overhung the spot that could bear their weight, and -the military and the rest were strewed about thickly and promiscuously -on the ground--sitting, squatting, kneeling; in fine, in every position -indescribable which the human frame is susceptible of when adapting -itself to some particular locality for its comfort. - -The speaker being about to commence, many who had kept on their hats or -caps were bid to uncover; the greater number of whom did so cheerfully; -a few reluctantly; and several, more independent and less tractable, -kept on theirs. To have insisted upon this point of decorum might have -been attended with consequences to mar the rejoicing--so the point was -very wisely given up. Silence obtained, nothing was heard but the -rustling of the leaves, through which the breeze that prevailed passed -and refreshed all below. The orator bowed and addressed his attentive -auditory. His voice was clear and audible, and his words were carefully -noted by a chirographer, and are here inserted. - -"Citizens of the village and farmers of the forest!--I will not offer -any excuse for the peramble that I will speak subsequent to the reading -of this _glorious_ document (holding up the scroll) of our ancestors. -The honor with which you have extinguished me this day, by making me -the reader on it, is duly depreciated. - -"When you have heared the sentiments contained upon it, you will find -your hearts in trepidation at the conjointure at which your forefathers -dared to put their fists to it. - -"While they was employed in this business, the immortal Washington, -called the _frater pater_, because he had a brotherly and fatherly love -for his countrymen, was commanding an army made up of such soldiers as -_you_ are. (Cheers.) It was with the like of you--such powerful men as -you--with such cowrageous souls as yours, that John Bull was fighting -with, running before and falling dead. (Great cheering.) The great -Thomas Jefferson and John Adams was driving the quill in peace and -comfort in Philadelphy, about this grand production, (stretching forth -and unfolding the scroll,) because they knowed, and all that was there -with them knowed too, that such soldiers as _you_, fighting for -liberty, barefoot, bareback and half starved, just as you are now when -you are all at home hard at work, was unresistible and unvincible. (The -deafening and reiterated cheers interrupted the speaker for a short -time.) - -"Without you, what would have become to them, and this now free, brave -and happy nation? Shall I tell you? Why they should have all been -hanged or shot, and this nation would have been made up of slaves. They -worked with their heads, and you with your arms; to use a learned -expression, they physically and you bodily: and if it had not a been -for your arms and bodies, they could never--they would never have dared -to do nothing with their heads. You was the strong ramparts behind -which they retrenched themselves to save their necks. (Cheers.) - -"Your beloved Washington could work with ither his hand or his arm, but -he showed his wisdom by choosing to work with his arm--that is, by -flourishing the sword instead of driving the pen--by putting himself at -your head in battle--facing the cannons of the enemy, and leading you -to _victory_ or _death!_ (Tremendous cheering.) To make this plainer -still to your understandings, which is very good,--suppose a man was to -abuse you and call you hard names? Why, you would up fist and knock him -down at once, if you could, in course; and if you did you would be safe -enough, and the matter would end. This was Washington's maxim, and he -acted up to it. Now-a-days, amongst them who drives the quill, when one -abuse another, they go to writing, and when they have lost a heap of -time to prove one another in the wrong--mind you, because they don't -want to come up to the sticking point, they are at last obliged to end -the difference by shooting at one another, or one murdering the other. -Now what does it all amount to in the end? All their writing did no -good, and they might as well have fight it out 'right off the reel' at -first--not with pistols and the like of that, but the arms that God -gave them--their fists, (clenching his fist.) In times of war men fight -with firearms and the like, because they can't come in contact man to -man. (Cheers.) - -"It was your worthy fathers and the like on 'em, who atchieved the -freedom of your beloved country. Tom Jefferson and Jack Adams wrote -down what they fought about, that you might have it in black and -white--that you might never forget what your forefathers fought for, -and that you might stimulate their actions. This is all that writing is -fit or good for. Many of you don't know A from a bull's foot, but which -amongst you could'nt take up a gun and shoot the crows that would come -to your cornfields to destroy your crops. The British came here like -crows to destroy what was yours, and you shot them down like crows and -drove away the rest.(Cheers.) - -"My brave friends! your present conditions is a proof of your being the -ascendants of those naked and half starved warriors. You have turned -out this day to prove to the world that you can depreciate the yearly -anniversary of this fourth of July. You are now enjoying the blessings -which they got for you by their lives, and at the peril of them who has -outlived the revolution. You are now resting at ease, and listening to -me, (for which I am complimented,) but they never rested at all--they -was always on the go; they went through thick and thin--sunshine and -rain--dust and mud--snow and ice--_fire and sword_--DEATH AND -DESTRUCTION, (tremendous cheering,) and made less of it than you do -now, for I can see that some of you is getting mighty restless. (A -shriek from a female at this instant spread consternation in the -assembly, which turned into a simultaneous burst of laughter as soon as -it was discovered she had fallen from a crag, being unable to endure -any longer the pain caused by its asperity.) - -"I will not keep you any longer in distraint; but I cannot finish -without saying a few words to the lovely gathering of our fair -countrywomen, which has complemented me this day with their smiles. - -"Your sex too, gentle hearers! had a helping hand in this glorious -revolution. Your foremothers was industriously employed at home for -your forefathers, while they was fighting for their country, their -wives and their offstrings. With such lovely being as I see now -gathered around me, this happy country need never fear of being in want -of warriors. (Cheers.) Sweet lasses! may heaven send down upon you such -partners as will make my prophecy come to pass." - -The peal of applause which ensued and continued for some minutes, rung -through the woods and welkin, and resounded from hill to hill, until -lost in the distance, after which the orator proceeded to the reading -of the Declaration of Independence. When he had read that part in these -words--"To secure these rights governments are instituted among men, -deriving their just powers from the _consent_ of the _governed_. That -whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it -is the RIGHT of the PEOPLE to _alter_ or _abolish_ it, and to institute -new governments,"[1] &c. in which his feelings were deeply enlisted, he -concluded the clause by giving vent to them in the following fervid -comments: "_Behold_ Americans!" cried he, "_behold_ the _whole_ of -_your_ rights explained. Do you not _see_ the figure which EVERY _one_ -of you cuts?! Out of you _the power_ comes, and _nothing_ can be done -_without_ you. Don't this prove what I said in my extompere address, -'_that their heads cannot work without you_?'" (Here a voice was heard -to cry, "By jingo, Jack, clap on your hat; ding it, do as I do!") - -[Footnote 1: In the extract the words are in italics and small capitals -on which much stress was given by the reader.] - -The reading ended, the assemblage broke up and dispersed, leaving the -military to honor the day and orator in the manner already intimated, -during which many national and sentimental toasts were drunk; after -which they returned into the village in the military order they had -left it for the purpose of parading. - -Various evolutions were performed; among them occasionally a left -wheeling for a right--a countermarch for a right or left face--keeping -time with right or left foot indifferently. They carried arms either -upon the right or left--trailing, supporting, sloping, advancing--just -as it suited their own whim; in other words, _will_. In vain did their -commander command, threaten or entreat. A volunteer, bolder than the -rest, went so far as to ask the captain, "If he had forgot what they -had heard from the Declaration?" and hinting at his being commander so -long as they willed it. They felt that they were the sovereign people -and only citizen soldiers. - -At the order "halt!" they came to a stand, and were drawn out in a -line, facing the stream, for the purpose of firing their _feu de -joie_--an apt simile, by the way, of the state of their minds after the -closing scene of the hill. The orders for execution were simply, "prime -and load--ready--fire!" which was executed with tolerable precision. -Three rounds being fired, they were ordered to "right face!" in order -to file off and resume their march; but few only obeying the order, -some confusion took place in the ranks. "_Right face!_" again -vociferated the captain, whose impatience for shaking off his brief -authority was very apparent. Still the contumaceous kept their -position, declaring that they would not "_budge_" until they had -received the word to fire a fourth round, for which they had already -loaded. A dispute arose between the officers and men--the former -asserting and endeavoring to enforce their authority--the latter -denying and obstinately determined not to move until they had received -the word to discharge their pieces, considering the reservation of -their fire until the order be given a sufficient evidence of their -subordination. The captain finally yielded, and crying out, "make -ready--fire!" the fourth round went off, and the men filed off without -further hesitation; some at a common time--some at a quickstep--some -skipping, and one hopping; the captain brandishing his cutlass over the -_drummer's_ pate for not "_treading in a straight line_"--the _fifer_ -blowing off fractions of marches and quicksteps, and the lieutenants -endeavoring to keep order in the ranks. In this style they once more -marched out of the village, to partake for the last time of the -refreshment at the hill, and crown the celebration. - -The sun was just reclining upon the western mount when they made their -third and final entry into the village, in a march, technically known -as the "rout march," thereby showing that the effect of the "old corn" -was predominating. - -The omission of testifying their respect in a military manner to the -chief magistrate of the village during their first parade, had occurred -to them at the hill, and concluding that it had better be done late -than never, they had returned to the village, contrary to their -intention when they had left it, in the manner described, and drawing -up in front of the dwelling of that excellent man, they commenced and -kept up a tremendous firing, shouting and huzzaing until nightfall, -when all who were able dismissed themselves, (their officers having -abandoned them,) leaving many on the ground as it were _dead_--_pro -tempore_. - -Thus terminated the village celebration of the anniversary of the day -out of which a great and virtuous nation was ushered into being. -However much our mirth may have been excited by the description given, -yet none will deny that the feeling which actuated them in their -celebration, was the identical feeling that dictates the observance of -the same day throughout the cities of the union--with this difference -only, that _this_ savours of the pomp and circumstances of wealth, -pride and refinement, while _that_ is perfectly in character with -nature,--true, simple and unsophisticated. I will conclude with a -quotation from Boileau. - - "La simplicité plaît sans étude et sans art. - Tout charme en un enfant dont la langue sans faěd, - A peine du filet encor débarrassée, - Sait d'un air innocent bégayer sa pensée. - Le faux est toujours fade, ennuyeux, languissant: - Mais la nature est vraie, et d'abord on la sent; - C'est elle seule en tout qu'on admire et qu'on aime." - -T. P. - -_Alexandria, November 1834_. - - - - -EXTRACT FROM LACON. - - -Mental pleasures never cloy; unlike those of the body, they are -increased by repetition, approved of by reflection, and strengthened by -enjoyment. - - - - -_University of Virginia, Nov. 13th, 1834_. - -To the Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger. - -SIR--If you think the following verses worthy of an insertion in the -Messenger, you will gratify me by giving them a place. They were -written two or three years ago, by a young lady of this state; and it -certainly never was her intention to publish them, but I am induced to -offer them to the public eye, because I think they are creditable, and -that they will not appear disadvantageously in the Messenger. - -R. - - -TO D----. - - I'll think of thee--I'll think of thee - In every moment of grief or of glee; - The memory will come of these fleeting hours, - Like the scent that is wafted from distant flow'rs; - Like the faint, sweet echo that lingers on - When the tones that waken'd it are gone. - - There's many a thought I may not tell, - Hidden beneath the heart's deep swell; - There's many a sweet and tender sigh - Breath'd out when only God is nigh; - And each familiar thing I see, - Is blended with the thought of thee. - - Thy form will be miss'd from the social hearth, - Thy voice from the mingling tones of mirth; - When the sound of music is poured along-- - When my soul hangs entranced on the poet's song-- - When history points from her glowing page, - To the deathless deeds of a former age-- - When my eye fills up and my heart beats high, - I shall look in vain for thine answering eye. - - When the winds are lulled in the quiet sky, - And the sparkling waters go surging by, - And the cheering sun invites to walk, - I shall miss thine arm and thy pleasant talk: - My rustling step--the leafless tree-- - The very rock will speak of thee. - - I'll think of thee when the sunset dyes - Are glowing bright in the western skies; - When the dusky shades of evening's light - Are melting away into deeper night-- - When the silvery moon looks bright above, - Raising the tides of human love-- - When the holy stars look bright and far, - I'll think of thee--my _guiding star!_ - - When all save the beating heart is still, - And the chainless fancy soars at will, - When it lifts the dark veil from future years, - And flutters and trembles with hopes and fears,-- - When it turns to retrace the burning past, - And the blinding tears come thick and fast-- - And oh! when bending the humble knee - At the throne of God--I will _pray_ for thee! - - And wilt thou sometimes think of me, - When thy thoughts from this stormy world are free? - When thou turnest o'erwearied from toil and strife - The warring passions of busy life, - May a still, small whispering, speak to thee, - Like a touch on thy heartstring--Love, think of me. - -E. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -INVOCATION TO RELIGION. - - - Come blest Religion, meek-eyed maid, - In all thy heavenly charms arrayed, - Descend with healing in thy wing, - And touch my heart while yet I sing. - - Heaven's own child of simple truth, - The stay of age, the guide of youth, - All spotless, pure and undefiled, - How blest are those on whom you've smiled. - - Oh! come, as thou wert wont, and bless - The widow and the fatherless-- - Temper the wind to the shorn lamb, - Pour on the wounded heart thy balm; - - Strew softest flowers, where e're they stray, - And pluck, oh! pluck the thorns away. - Come like the good Samaritan, - Bind up the sick and wounded man; - - Not like the Priest thy love display-- - Just look devout, and turn away. - Oh! no--the bruised with kindness greet, - And set the mourner on his feet. - - Teach me with warm affections pure, - That holy Fountain to adore, - From whence proceeds or life or thrift-- - The source of every perfect gift: - - Teach me thy fear--thy grace impart, - And twine thy virtues round my heart; - With pity's dew suffuse my eye, - And teach me heavenly charity-- - - That blessed love, which will not halt, - Or stumble at a brother's fault; - But with affection's tender care, - Will still pursue the wanderer. - - Oh! teach my heart enough to feel, - For human woe and human weal. - Not that mad zeal, which works by force, - And poisons goodness, at its source; - - But that mild, pure, persuasive love, - Which thou hast brought us from above. - Thro' thy fair fields, oh! fatal change, - Let no distempered _maniac_ range,-- - - No frantic bigot spoil thy bowers, - And blight thy pure and spotless flowers. - Still, still, thou pure and heavenly dove, - Still speed thy work of perfect love. - - Pursue the pilgrim on his road, - And oh! take off his heavy load. - Peace whisper to the troubled breast, - And give the weary mourner rest-- - - And when in that last awful hour, - Death shall exert his fatal power, - Oh! blunt the print of his keen dart, - And sooth the pangs that rend the heart. - - When the last vital throb shall cease, - Oh! be then present, with thy peace: - Then let thy healing grace be given - To light and waft our souls to Heaven. - -L. - -_Pittsylvania_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -BEAUTY AND TIME. - -[Written under a vignette, representing a branch of roses with a scythe -suspended over it, in a Lady's Album.] - - - Emblem of woman's beauty, - This blooming rose behold! - Time's scythe is hanging o'er it, - While yet its leaves unfold. - - Alas! that Time is ever - To Beauty such a foe! - How can she shun his power? - How ward his withering blow? - - Has she no art to foil him, - And turn his scythe aside? - Must she, who conquers others, - To him yield up her pride? - - Yes, yes, there is a conquest - That Beauty gains o'er Time: - Forget it not, ye fair ones, - But prize the homely rhyme. - - For every charm he pilfers - From Beauty's form or face, - Upon the mind's fair tablet, - Some new attraction trace. - - Thus, Time's assaults are fruitless, - For, when her bloom is o'er, - Woman, despite his malice, - Is lovelier than before. - -S[obelisk]. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -ANTICIPATION. - - - When life's last parting ray is shed, - And darkness shrouds this pallid form; - When I have laid this aching head, - Secure from ev'ry earthly storm-- - - Oh! then how sweet it is to think - That some fond heart yet warm and true, - Will cherish still the severed link - Which death's rude hand has snapt in two. - - Who oft, at evening's pensive hour, - From all the busy crowd will steal, - To dress the vine and nurse the flower - That deck my grave, with pious zeal. - - And ling'ring there, will lightly tread, - As fearful to disturb my sleep, - And oft relieve the drooping head - Upon her slender hand, and weep. - - And oh! if in that world which rolls - Sublime beyond this earthly sphere, - That love still warms departed souls, - Which once they fondly cherished here. - - Oh! yes, if in such hour is given, - And parted souls such scenes may see, - At that pure hour I'd leave e'en heav'n, - And kiss the heart that wept for me. - -L. - -_Pittsylvania_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -HINTS TO STUDENTS OF GEOLOGY. - -BY PETER A. BROWNE, ESQ. - -NO. I. - - -The word "_science_," in its most comprehensive sense, means -"knowledge." In its general acceptation, it is "knowledge reduced to a -system;" that is to say, arranged in regular order, so that it can be -conveniently taught, easily remembered, and readily applied to useful -purposes. An _art_ is the application of knowledge to some practicable -end,--to answer some useful or ornamental purpose. The sciences, are -sometimes divided into the _abstract_ and the _natural_; by the former -we are taught the knowledge of reasons and their conclusions; by the -latter we are enabled to find out causes and effects, and to study the -laws by which the material world is governed. To the abstract sciences -belong, first, language, whether oral or written, including grammar, -logic, &c.; secondly, notation, including arithmetic, algebra, -geometry, &c. Philosophy inquires into the laws that regulate the -phenomena of nature, whether in the material or immaterial world; it is -generally divided into three classes, two of which are material and one -immaterial. The material are, first, those which relate to number and -quantity; secondly, those which relate to matter. The immaterial are -those which relate to mind. The second class of the material is called -"natural philosophy" or "physics," and sometimes the "physical -sciences." Natural philosophy, in its most comprehensive sense, has for -its province the laws of matter, whether organic or inorganic. These -laws may regard either the motions or properties of matter, and hence -arises their division into two branches--first, those which regard the -_motions_ of matter, which are called _mechanics_; and secondly, those -which regard the _properties_ of matter, which are subdivided, and have -various names, according to the different objects of investigation. -When the inquiry is confined to organized bodies and life, it is called -physiology; which is again subdivided into zoology and botany. When it -treats of inorganic matter, it is subdivided into chemistry, anatomy, -medicine, mineralogy and geology. The principles of natural philosophy -rest upon _observation_ and _experiment_. Observation is the noticing -of natural phenomena at they occur, without any attempt to influence -the frequency of their occurrence. Experiment consists in putting in -action causes and agents, over which we have control, for the purpose -of noticing their effects. From a comparison of a number of facts, -obtained from either observation or experiment, the existence of -general laws are proved. The laws of man are complicated; to understand -their objects, we are often obliged to take the most circuitous routes; -but the laws by which nature governs all her works are beautifully -simple, and they are found to lead directly to the end she has in view. -To study them, therefore, according to the rules that have been laid -down, viz: from observation and experiment, is pleasant and easy. The -principal difficulties that have arisen, are owing to the improper -manner in which the subjects connected with natural history have often -been treated. Natural philosophy regards what was the condition of -natural bodies: but many persons exert the whole force of their genius -to discover what they _might have been_. And as there is no department -of natural philosophy into which this erroneous method of procedure has -made greater inroads than geology, nor any science that has suffered so -severely in such conflicts, it may not be amiss to appropriate half an -hour to the inquiry whence this error has arisen; and, if possible, -point out the best method of avoiding its dangerous tendency. The word -geology is derived from two Greek words, signifying "the earth" and -"reason;" and it is that science which teaches the structure of the -crust of the earth, and ascertains its mineralogical materials, and the -order in which they are disposed, and their relations to each other. -Geognosy is used by the French as synonymous to geology, but in English -is generally understood to be synonymous to cosmogony; which is an -inquiry, or rather a speculation, as to the original formation or -creation of the world; hence geognosy has sometimes been called -"speculative geology." In pursuing the examinations to which geology -leads, we reason from facts, as is done in other branches of natural -science. The strata of the crust of the earth, owing to the disturbed -manner in which we now find them, are in a great measure open to our -examination; their composition, formation, deposition, eruption, -depression, succession, and mineralogical contents, are all objects of -sensation. The objects of geognosy (in the English sense of the word) -are, on the other hand, for the most part, ideal, visionary and -delusive. We are sensible that this earth exists and that it is -material, and therefore we know that it must have been created. We know -that it was not created by man, who hath not the power to add to it one -single atom, nor diminish it by a single grain--so that it is manifest -that it was created by a superior and omnipotent power; but by what -process it was done is a mystery, and the more we seek to discover it -the more we expose our ignorance. The geologist, like the -mathematician, deals with the understanding; his advance is wary, -admitting no conclusion until his premises are fully established. The -professor of geognosy, on the contrary, addresses himself entirely to -the imagination, and he delights in hypothesis and suppositions. The -progress of the geologist is necessarily slow; he is like the patient -miner, making his laborious but determined way into the solid rock: but -the professor of geognosy will make a world or even a universe in an -hour, for he deals in fancy and works in visionary speculations. The -geologist delves into the bowels of the earth in search of useful -metals, earths and combustible matters, which nature has kindly placed -within his reach, and he strives to turn them to the best advantage in -administering to the wants and increasing the comforts and convenience -of his fellow creatures; but all the labors of the professor of -geognosy are directed to discover a secret which appears to be hidden -from human ken; a secret, the discovery of which would not, as far as -we can judge, add any thing to the sum of human happiness. It excites -our astonishment therefore, that so many persons of fine genius and -brilliant talents should have wasted so much time in forming what are -called theories of the earth, who might have been so much better -employed in investigating the secondary causes by which the materials -composing the crust of this earth obtained their present forms, and in -examining the changes which those materials are daily undergoing. But -so it is; the curiosity so natural to our species opens the way--the -vanity of being supposed to have penetrated deeper than others into the -abstruse mysteries of nature urges them forward--the silly pride of -having in their own estimations discovered the hidden ways of -Providence quickens their zeal; and, such is the love of the -marvellous, that if they exhibit only a tolerable degree of ingenuity, -and embellish their performances with a few flowers of rhetoric, they -are sure to command more attention and praise from the general mass of -readers, than can be extorted by the most laborious examination of -nature's works. While Martin Lister was ridiculed by Doctor King for -the laudable minuteness with which he described the different natural -objects he met with in his journey through France, Mr. Thomas Burnet, -for a fanciful theory of the earth, was extravagantly lauded by a -writer in the Spectator. Saussure crossed the Alps in fourteen places; -Humboldt traversed nearly one half of the habitable globe; Cuvier spent -seven years in the study of comparative anatomy, as subservient to the -study of fossil remains; and Hauy studied geometry for the sole purpose -of obtaining a knowledge of crystalography; but neither of these -distinguished philosophers have been able to win the laurels that have -been heaped upon the brow of Count Buffon for a visionary hypothesis -which he calls a theory of the earth. - -The substitution of these hypotheses for knowledge, unfortunately, has -not been confined to the early and dark ages of geology. One entirely -new theory of the earth was published as lately as the year -1825--another in 1827--and a third in 1829. It is proper therefore that -the student should be warned against their fascinating and baneful -influence. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -ESSAY ON LUXURY. - - -Of the various researches, which engage this enlightened age, there is -not one perhaps more important, whether we consider the public weal, or -the general interest of humanity, than that which concerns _luxury_. It -is regarded by some as the source of the greatest calamities; by others -as a source of opulence and industry. It has been said and repeated -thousands of times, that we often dispute, because we do not understand -each other, and that we give a different meaning to words we use, -because we do not define them with sufficient precision. This is -frequently true; but cases will often arise where, though the words of -a proposition are taken in precisely the same acceptation, and those -who employ them reason alike, yet the result of their reasonings are -diametrically opposite. Luxury has at all times been considered as a -cause of the corruption of morals, and the destruction of empires; but -in the last ages, it has not wanted its advocates--nay, they have even -pretended, that it was necessary to render empires flourishing, to -favor commerce, industry, circulation, manufactures; and that _it_ -alone would redress the inequality of various conditions, by making the -superfluities of some contribute to relieve the necessities and wants -of others. The contrary has always been held as an irrefragible axiom. -But still its advocates maintain, that it nourishes all the refinements -of good taste, and developes the talents of the artist, whose art and -genius are encouraged by the profusion and prodigality which it -produces. This is indeed the favorable side of the picture; but how -often is it, that what we see in an object, is not all we might see -there, and that one truth by intercepting the view of others, conducts -us often to error. It is possible by considering the subject more -attentively, though we may find all we have said, true to a certain -degree, yet on the other hand, the evil, which excessive luxury -produces, is infinitely more dangerous;--and speculation will confirm -what the experience of all ages has demonstrated. It is an historical -and invariable truth, that excessive luxury has always been the -harbinger of the destruction of a state. I may add, it has always been -the fatal cause. Labor and economy are the principles of true -prosperity--the eclat of pomp and magnificence without them, is only a -false splendor, which conceals inward misery. But it is here, we must -stop for a moment, before we further advance, in order to have a -precise idea, of what we understand by the word _luxury_. If by it, we -mean every thing which exceeds the physical necessities of life, I -should apologize to the learned. But I do not mean to fix the boundary -by the laws of Lycurgus. I agree farther, that what may be luxury at -one time, is not so at another; but it is in this gradation, which may -be extended to infinity, that we ought wisely to seize that degree of -the scale, where it degenerates into vice--I mean political vice, which -far from being useful becomes prejudicial to a state. This distinction -is still local, individual, and subject to different times and eras. -What is a ruinous luxury in one country, would perhaps be useful or -indifferent in another. A destructive and indecent luxury in one order -of society, is honorable, indispensable and useful in another; and in -short, in a country where a certain degree of luxury is necessary, -there may be times, when sumptuary laws would be useful. If we proceed -to analyze its principles, we shall see that though abstractedly, -luxury may appear to produce certain advantages, yet in general it is -the cause of the greatest disorders. If the expense or luxury of each -individual were the thermometer of his fortune, the degree of luxury -would certainly be the symptom of power, riches, industry and opulence -of a state, but it would not on this account, be the cause; for what -must be the consequence, when vanity and self-love excited by opinion, -by custom and by pride, make us aspire at an external show far beyond -our condition in life, and run into extravagancies, which we cannot -support? This is to sap a commodious edifice in order to build a -larger, which we can never erect. The state loses the house and does -not gain the palace. In a country where luxury reigns, this example may -be seen every day and in every order of the state. The "Luxury" then of -which I speak, is that which prompts many to run into expenses, beyond -what their circumstances will admit, by the respect attached to it, and -by that contempt, with which those are treated, who do not maintain a -similar profusion; by the universality of the custom; and by the -opinions of others, which render the superfluous, the useless, the -frivolous, almost necessary and indispensable. It is on this account, -that the felicity, or apparent power, which luxury appears sometimes to -communicate to a nation, is comparable to those violent fevers, which -lend for a moment, incredible nerve to the wretch, whom they devour, -and which seem to increase the natural strength of man, only to deprive -him at length of that very strength and life itself. It is likewise -physically true, that excessive luxury impairs the body and destroys -courage. Effeminacy enervates the one, and artificial wants blunt the -other; wants multiplied become habitual, nor by diminishing the -pleasures of possession, do they always diminish the despair of -privation. Let us not say that the misfortunes of individuals, do not -concern the public; when many suffer, the public must feel it. If it -were true, that the possessions of those who are ruined, are found -dispersed among other individuals, the ruin of the unfortunate would -still be prejudicial to the state; because it is the number of -individuals in easy circumstances, which create its wealth. But it is -absolutely false, that those possessions are found in the mass of the -public; if the possession of each individual consisted in silver, this -might be so; but property for the most part is fictitious or -artificial: industry, credit, opinion, form a great part of the riches -of each individual,--which vanish, and are annihilated with the ruin of -his former possessions, and are forever lost with respect to the state. -Besides, lands are best cultivated, when divided among many hands. An -hundred husbandmen in easy circumstances, are infinitely more useful to -a state, than an hundred poor ones, or ten powerfully rich. It is the -quantity of consumers, who regularly make an honest, well supported and -permanent expense,--which augments industry, circulation, commerce, -manufactures, and all the useful arts. But when excessive luxury -causes, that the arts are lucrative in the inverse ratio of their -utility, the most necessary become the most neglected, and the state is -depopulated by the multiplication of subjects, who are a charge to it. -It is then we fall precisely into the case of him, who cuts down the -tree to get the fruit: what weakens each member of a body, must -necessarily weaken the body itself; but excessive luxury weakens, -without contradiction, each member of a body politic, physically and -morally,--consequently it must undermine and destroy the constitution -of that body. Another inconvenience attending luxury is, that according -to the order of nature, the propagation of the species ought -continually to increase in a country, if some inherent vice, either -physical or moral, do not prevent it. We have seen in those times, when -luxury prevailed only among the superior class, swarms issue from the -state, without depopulating it, in order to establish themselves in -other places. But the luxury of parents, whose baleful example is often -the sole inheritance of their offspring, forces them necessarily into a -state of celibacy; whereas it is evident, that by a division of -property among their children, the latter might, with industry and -care, having a principal to begin with, increase their hereditary -wealth and enrich the state. Every thing conspires, where luxury -reigns, to corrupt the morals. It eclipses, stifles, or rather destroys -the virtues. It knows no object but the gratification of certain -imaginary pleasures, more illusory than the honor, which it attracts. -Mankind are born perhaps with no particular bias to fraud or injustice. -It is want, either real or artificial, which creates the robber or the -murderer; but for the most part, those crimes, which are most dangerous -to society, take their origin from artificial wants, which ensue from -"Luxury." The brother violates the strongest ties of nature--the -patriot plunges the dagger into the bosom of his country. It was -"Luxury," which called from Jugurtha his celebrated observation on -Rome. It would be endless to attempt to enumerate the examples of ruin, -and of those calamities, which have ever followed in its train. But how -is this most dangerous of evils to be guarded against? Sumptuary laws -would not always be efficacious. They do not always answer the end -proposed. They are eluded by refinements upon "Luxury" until it becomes -"Luxury" in excess. It must be the province of the legislature to -prevent this abuse. The most effectual laws would be those, which would -remove that ridiculous respect, which is paid to frivolous exteriors, -and would attach real respect to merit alone; which would destroy that -unjust contempt into which modest simplicity has fallen by a depravity -of taste and reason. He, who by a wise legislation would discover the -secret of banishing those prejudices, would render an essential service -to humanity. Virtue and emulation would flourish--vice and folly no -longer appear. After all, I would not have it forgot, that I have -agreed, that what would be "Luxury" at one time, and for one order of -people, is not so for another. The "Luxury" which destroys a republic, -would not perhaps destroy a large kingdom; but there is a degree of -"Luxury" prejudicial to the most opulent monarchy. The universal use of -wine would be ruinous to this country, but not so to France. The detail -and analysis of those distinctions, are perhaps the most important -object to humanity. I am persuaded, that the public good, the repose of -families, and the happiness of the present and future generations -depend upon it. - -B. B. B. H. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -TO ---- - -"_Agite Mais Constant_." - -"Though the speed with which we are hurried through the immensity of -space, is not perceptible to our vision; yet the _truth_ that '_Time_ -is ever on the wing,' should teach us to be wise while it is called -'_to-day_.'" - - - Pleasures of _time_ and _sense_ can give - No hope or real joy; - They leave an aching void behind, - Are mixed with base alloy. - - Say, wouldst thou twine a lasting wreath - To deck thy forehead fair, - Go--wipe away the _widow's_ tear, - And sooth the _orphan's_ care. - - Wouldst thou be meet to join the choir - Who sing in endless bliss, - Go--drink at that Eternal Fount, - Whose stream shall never cease. - - Wouldst thou improve the talents here, - Transmitted from above; - Go--turn the sinner from his way, - And prove a Saviour's love. - -POWHATAN. - - - - -EXTRACT. - - -Men will wrangle for religion; write for it; fight for it; die for it; -any thing but--_live_ for it. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -ELOQUENCE. - - -In the long list of powers and endowments, we can select no faculty or -attainment more useful and ennobling than that of eloquence. -Brightening the gloom of intellect, and awakening the energies of -feeling, it holds reason mute at its will and enkindles passion with -its touch. The soldier on the tented field is incited to the charge, -and animated in the conflict, and his last moments sweetened, by the -magic of its influence. The cries of injured innocence it converts into -notes of gladness, and the tears of sadness and sorrow into smiles of -pleasure and rejoicing. The miser, gazing on the beauty of his coin, -and living on the manna of its presence, and kneeling to its power as -his idol, is taught to weep over his error, bow to his Creator, and -despise the degrading destroyer of his peace. The infidel, unswayed by -the voice of divinity, and ignorant of its attributes, and doubtful of -its existence, enraptured with the glowing efforts of ethereal -eloquence, is convicted of his depravity, and yields to the resistless -current, which swelling in its onward course, dispels the cloud that -obscures the mind, and leaves it pure and elevated. In the courts of -justice, the criminal, his heart imbittered with torturing despair, and -his soul torn with agonizing anguish, beholds his arms unshackled, his -character unsullied by even suspicious glance, and futurity studded -with honors, station and dignity. In the halls of legislation, -corruption is unmasked, intrigue is exposed, and tyranny overthrown. -Where is its matchless excellence inapplicable? The rich and the poor -experience its effects. The guilty are living monuments of its -exertion, and the innocent hail it as the vindicator of its violated -rights and the preserver of its sacred reputation. In the cause of -mercy it is ever omnipotent; bold in the consciousness of its -superiority, and fearless and unyielding in the purity of its motives, -it destroys all opposition and defies all power. The godlike Sheridan, -unequalled and unrivalled, swayed all by its electric fire, charmed and -enthralled the weak and the timid, and chained and overpowered the -profound and the prejudiced. Burke, the great master of the human -heart, deeply versed in its feelings and emotions, "struck by a word, -and it quivered beneath the blow; flashed the light'ning glance of -burning, thrilling, animated eloquence"--and its hopes and fears were -moulded to his wish. Curran, whose speeches glitter with corruscations -of wit, and sentiment, and genius, and whose soul burned with kindred -feelings for its author, and teemed with celestial emanations, -astonished, elevated and enraptured. Pitt, and Fox, and Henry, and Lee, -and other great and gifted spirits of that golden age, have all -unfolded the grandeur of its sublimity, the richness of its -magnificence, and the splendor of its sparkling beauties. - -At a later period, when the rising generation caught the living spark -as it fell from the lips of their giant fathers; a Phillips has pleased -and fascinated by the grace and vigor of his action, the strength and -fervor of his imagination, and the dignity and suavity of his manner; -by the warmth of his feelings and the quickness of his perceptions. A -Canning, by the brilliance of his mind, beaming with gems of classic -literature; the perspicuity of his diction, rich in the beauties of our -language; and the commanding force of his voice, now surpassing in its -deep sternness the echoing thunder, and now, soft, and sweet, and -mellow as the dying cadence of a flute, has never failed to arouse, and -enliven, and convince. And a Brougham, with a profound and -comprehensive intellect, deep and capacious as ocean's channels, with -great powers of close and sound reasoning; with an extensive knowledge -of the past and the present, with untiring energies and unremitted -industry, wields a concentrated mass of overwhelming argument, and -hurls a thunderbolt of eloquence, subduing and crushing in its -impetuous course. In our own country, so fertile in the highest orders -of mind, and so successful in nurturing, and expanding, and -invigorating its faculties, we may point to Calhoun, and Webster, and -Clay, and McDuffie, as the master spirits of the age. Their varied -endowments; their chaste language; their pure and sublime style; their -bitter and withering irony; their keen and searching sarcasm; their -vast range of thought and unequalled condensation of argument, command -the admiration and excite the wonder of men. - -That eloquence has been productive of immense good, no one can deny or -doubt. From the earliest ages it has been assiduously cultivated, and -ranked among the highest attainments of the human mind. So great and -elevated was it deemed by the Athenians--so grand the results of its -application, and so distinguished in their councils were those who -possessed it--that the young Demosthenes, inspired with quenchless -ardor for its acquisition, bent all the energies of his gifted -intellect to the task--opposed and triumphed over every obstacle that -nature presented to his advancement--heeded not the scoffs and hisses -of the multitude on the decided failure of his first endeavors--and at -length as the recompense for his toils, reached the pinnacle of -renown--received the gratulations of an admiring age, and beheld his -brow encircled with the wreath of victory, immortal as his glory, and -unfading as the memory of his deeds. While language continues to exist, -and breathe in beauty and vigor the conceptions of mind, his -phillippics, rich in forcible and magnificent expression, in sublime -thought, and bold and resistless eloquence, will survive. And the -fervent, and holy, and incorruptible patriotism that speaks in every -line, must elicit unbounded veneration. His matchless powers, never -exerted but for the public good, inspired his enemies with respect and -fear, and forced the mighty Philip to acknowledge, "that he had to -contend against a great man indeed." Cicero too, entitled by a -contemporary philosopher and orator,[1] one by no means addicted to -flattering or giving even unnecessary praise, "The Father of his -Country," has proved by a long and active career of usefulness and -honor, the beneficial effects of this inestimable power. Who can -conceive any thing more thrilling and overwhelming than his orations -against Cataline? We can see the patriot orator, sternly bold, from the -magnitude of his cause--for the lives of millions depended upon his -success--hatred and abhorrence depicted in his face; indignation -flashing from his eye--for love of country was his impelling motive; -energy and passion in his every action, and the living lava bursting -from his lips;--and the victim, shrinking awe-stricken away--his -baseness exposed--his treacherous schemes unfolded to public gaze; he -flies a blasted and withering thing--a reckless and degraded outlaw. -This is but one of his numerous triumphs, which, stamped with the seal -of immortality, have secured to him a fame as imperishable as time -itself. It was by eloquence that the apostle of christianity so aroused -the apprehensions and pierced the hardened conscience of the heathen -Agrippa, that in the fulness of contrition he exclaimed, "thou almost -persuadest me to be a christian." With it, the fisherman[2] of Naples -declared to the populace the sanctity of their rights--explained the -violation of their chartered privileges, and pointed out the means of -securing justice--denounced their rulers as tyrants, and swore upon the -altar of his country to revenge them. The multitude, through -instinctive esteem for intellectual capacities, however humble the -station of their possessor, and urged by the enthusiasm he had excited, -obeyed his every word. Passive in his hands, he guided them to the -maintenance of their freedom and the expulsion of domestic foes. To its -influence we may ascribe the commencement of our Revolution, and the -tameless spirit which animated our fathers in the struggle. Even now -its effects are visible every where around us. We see that the seducer -is lashed into remorse and contrition, and the traitor has received the -reward for his crime. In the chambers of congress its fire burns with -increasing lustre, and sheds unending sparks of brilliancy and -strength. When properly directed, it is the inseparable companion of -liberty; and so long as it continues thus--so long as its efforts are -characterized by purity and patriotism, the prosperity, union, and -above all, the freedom of these states, will remain secure. - -[Footnote 1: Cato of Utica.] - -[Footnote 2: Massaniello.] - -H. M. - - - - -LETTERS FROM NEW ENGLAND.--NO. 2. - -Our readers will participate with us in the pleasure of reading the -second letter from _New England_, by an accomplished Virginian, whose -easy and forcible style is so well employed in depicting the manners -and character of a portion of our countrymen, separated from us not -more by distance, than by those unhappy prejudices which too often -spring up between members of the same family. The acute observation of -men and things which these letters evince, will entitle them to be -seriously read and considered,--and they will not have been written in -vain, if they serve to remove the misconceptions of a single mind. We -repeat what we stated in our last number, that although they were -originally published in the Fredericksburg Arena, they have since -undergone the revision and correction of the author expressly for -publication in the Messenger. - - -_Northampton, Mass. July 25, 1834_. - -Of _Yankee hospitality_ (curl not your lip sardonically--you, or any -other Buckskin,)--of _Yankee hospitality_ there is a great deal, _in -their way_--i.e. according to the condition and circumstances of -society. Not a tittle more can be said of Virginia hospitality. Set one -of our large farmers down upon a hundred, instead of a thousand, acres; -let him, and his sons, cultivate it themselves; feed the cattle; rub -down and feed the horses; milk the cows; cut wood and make fires; let -his wife and daughters alone tend the garden; wash, iron, cook, make -clothes, make the beds, and clean up the house; let him have but ten -acres of wood land, in a climate where snow lies three, and frosts come -for seven, months a year; surround him with a dense population--80, -instead of 19, to the square mile; bring strangers, constantly, in -flocks to his neighborhood; place a cheap and comfortable inn but a -mile or two off; give him a ready and near market for his garden -stuffs, as well as for his grain and tobacco--and ask yourself, if he -could, or would, practise our "good old Virginia hospitality?" To us, -who enjoy the credit and the pleasure of entertaining a guest, while -the drudgery devolves upon our slaves; the larger scale (wastefully -large) of our daily _rations_, too, making the presence of one or more -additional mouths absolutely unfelt;--hospitality is a cheap, easy, and -delightful virtue. But put us in place of the yankees, in the foregoing -respects, and any man of sense and candor must perceive that we could -not excel them. Personal observation and personal experience, make me -"a swift witness" to their having, in ample measure, the kindliness of -soul, which soothes and sweetens human life: a kindliness ready to -expand, when occasion bids, as well towards the stranger, as towards -the object of nearer ties. No where have I seen _equal_ evidences of -public spirit; of munificent charity; of a generous yielding up of -individual advantage to the common good. No where, more, or lovelier, -examples of domestic affection and happiness--evinced by tokens, small -it is true, but not to be counterfeited or mistaken. And no where have -I had entertainers task themselves more to please and profit me, as a -guest. Yet, as _you_ know, few can have witnessed more of Virginia -hospitality than I have. It would be unpardonable egotism, and more -_personal_ than I choose to be, even in bestowing just praise; besides -"spinning my yarn" too long--to do more than glance at the many -kindnesses, which warrant the audacious heresy, of comparing our -northern brethren with ourselves, in our most prominent virtue. -Gentlemen, some of them of advanced years, and engaged in such -pursuits, as make their time valuable both to themselves and the -public, have devoted hours to shewing me all that could amuse or -interest a stranger, in their vicinities--accompanying me on foot, and -driving me in their own vehicles, for miles, to visit scenes of present -wonder, or of historic fame: patiently answering my innumerable -questions; and explaining, with considerate minuteness, whatever -occurred as needing explanation, in the vast and varied round of moral -and physical inquiry. In surveying literary, charitable, and political -institutions--in trying to ascertain, by careful, and doubtless, -troublesome cross-questionings, the structure and practical effects of -judicial, and school, and pauper systems--in examining the machinery -(human and inanimate) of manufactories--in probing their tendencies -upon minds and morals--in 'stumbling o'er recollections,' in Boston, on -Bunker's hill, and around Lexington--I found guides, enlighteners, and -hosts, such as I can never hope to see surpassed, if equalled, for -friendliness and intelligence. A friend of ours from Virginia, who was -in the city of Boston with his family when I was, carried a letter of -introduction to one of the citizens. "This gentleman, for three days," -said our friend, "gave himself up entirely to us; brought his carriage -to the hotel, and carried us in it over the city, and all its beautiful -environs; in short, he seemed to think that he could not do enough to -amuse and gratify us." To enjoy such treatment as this, one must, of -course, in general, come introduced, by letter or otherwise. Then--nay, -according to my experience, in some instances without any -introduction,--the tide of kindness flows as ungrudgingly as that of -Virginia hospitality, and far more beneficially to the object: at an -expense, too, not only of money, but of time--which here, more -emphatically than any where else in America, _is money_. When -travelling on foot, I had no letters to present--no introduction, -except of myself. Still, unbought civilities, and more than civilities, -usually met me. A farmer, at whose house I obtained comfortable -quarters on the first night of my walk, refused all compensation, -giving me at the same time a hearty welcome, and an invitation to stay -to breakfast. Next day, a man in a jersey wagon, overtook me, and -invited me to ride with him. I did so, for an hour, while our roads -coincided: and found him intelligent, as well as friendly. Whenever I -wanted, along the road, refreshing drinks were given me;--cider, -switchell, and water--the two first always unasked for. One _gudewife_, -at whose door I called for a glass of water, made me sit down, treated -me abundantly to cider; and, finding that my object was to see the -country and learn the ways of its people, laid herself out to impart -such items of information as seemed likely to interest me: wishing me -'great success' at parting. Many similar instances of kindness -occurred. It is true, none of the country people invited me to partake -of their meals, except my first host just mentioned--an omission, -however, for which I was prepared, because it arose naturally from the -condition of things here. One testimonial more you shall have, to New -England benevolence, from a third person. A deserter from the British -navy--moneyless, shoeless, with only yarn socks on; feet blistered--and -actually suffering from a fever and ague--told me that he had walked -all the way from Bath, in Maine, to the neighborhood of Hartford, where -I overtook him, entirely upon charity; and _had never asked for food or -shelter in vain_. A lady that day had given him a clean linen shirt. -There was no whining in this poor fellow's tale of distress: his tone -was manly, and his port erect: he seemed, like a true sailor, as frank -in accepting relief, as he would be free in giving it. - -The result of all my observation is, that the New Englanders have in -their hearts as much of the _original material_ of hospitality as we -have: that, considering the sacrifices it costs them, and the -circumstances which modify its application, they _actually use_ as much -of that material as we do; and that, although their mode of using it is -less _amiable_ than ours, it is more _rational_, more -_salutary_--better for the guest, better for the host, better for -society. And most gladly would I see my countrymen and countrywomen -exchange the ruinous profusion; which, to earn, or preserve, a -vainglorious name, pampers and stupifies themselves and impoverishes -their country, for the discriminating and judicious hospitality of New -England: retaining only those freer and more captivating traits of -their own, which are warranted by our sparser settlements, our ampler -fields, and our different social organization. - -Yet, while such praise is due to the general civility and kindness of -the New Englanders, it must be qualified by saying, that several times, -I have experienced discourtesy, which chafed me a good deal: but always -from persons who, in their own neighborhoods, would be considered as -vulgar. The simplest and most harmless question, propounded in my -_civilest_ manner, has occasionally been answered with a gruffness, -that would for half a minute upset my equanimity. For example--"Good -morning sir" (to a hulking, rough, carter-looking fellow, one hot -morning, when I had walked eight miles before breakfast)--"how far to -Enfield?" "Little better 'an a mile,"--was the answer; in an abrupt, -surly, unmodulated tone, uttered without even turning his head as he -passed me. Two or three of "mine hosts," at inns, were churlishly -grudging in their responses to my inquiries about the products, usages, -and statistics, of their neighborhoods. For these, however, I at once -saw a twofold excuse: they were very busy and my questions were very -numerous--besides the irritating circumstance, that answers were not -always at hand--and to be _posed_, is what flesh and blood cannot bear. -And it makes me think no worse than before, either of human nature in -general, or of Yankee character in particular, that such slights -occurred, nearly in every instance, whilst I was a somewhat shabby -looking way-farer on foot; scarcely ever, while travelling in stage, or -steamboat. Such distinctions are made, all the world over: in Virginia, -as well as elsewhere. - -A Southron, not accustomed to wait much upon himself, here feels -sensibly the scantiness of the personal service he meets with. Even -I--though for years more than half a Yankee in that respect--missed, -rather awkwardly, on first coming hither, the superfluous, and often -cumbersome attentions of our southern waiters. Besides having -frequently to brush my own clothes, I am put to some special trouble in -the best hotels, to get my shoes cleaned. In many village inns, -sumptuous and comfortable in most respects, this last is a luxury -hardly to be hoped for. This scarcity of menial service arises partly -from the nice economy, with which the number of hands about a house is -graduated to the general, and smallest possible, quantity of necessary -labor; and partly, from a growing aversion to such services among the -"help" themselves, caused, or greatly heightened, by the increased -demand and higher wages for them in the numerous manufactories -throughout the country. Almost every where, I am told of their asking -higher pay, and growing more fastidious, and intractable, as household -servants. "_Servants_" indeed, they will not allow themselves to be -called. A "marry-come-up-ish" toss, if not an immediate quitting of the -house, is the probable consequence of so terming them. The above, more -creditable designation, is that which must be used--at least in their -presence. By the by, though the gifted author of "Hope Leslie" says -that the _singular_ plural, "help," alone, is proper, I find popular -usage ("_quem penes arbitrium_"--you know) sanctioning the regular -plural form "helps," whenever reference is made to more than one. - -The spirit, and the habits, which oblige one to do so much for himself -within doors, produce corresponding effects without. Useful labor is no -where disdained in New England, by any class of society. Proprietors, -and their sons, though wealthy, frequently work on the farms, and in -the gardens, stables, and barns. Two or three days ago, I saw an old -gentleman (Squire ----) a justice of the peace, and for several years a -useful member of the Legislature, toiling in his hay harvest. Two of -the richest men in this village--possessing habitations among the most -elegant in this assemblage of elegant dwellings--I have seen busy with -hoe and rake, in their highly cultivated grounds. The wife of a -tavern-keeper, in Rhode Island, worth $40,000, prepared my breakfast, -and waited upon me at it, with a briskness such as I never saw -equalled. Similar instances are so frequent and familiar, as to be -unnoticed except by strangers. Many of New England's eminent men of -former days, were constant manual laborers; not only in boyhood, and in -obscurity, but after achieving distinction. Putnam, it is well known, -was ploughing when he heard of the bloody fray at Lexington; and left -both plough and team in the field, to join and lead in the strife for -liberty. Judge Swift, of Connecticut, who wrote a law book[1] of some -merit, and, I believe, a History of Connecticut, was a regular laborer -on his farm, whilst he was a successful practiser of the Law. An -amusing story is told (which I cannot now stop to repeat) of his being -severely drubbed by the famous Matthew Lyon, then his indented servant; -while they worked together in the barn. Timothy Pickering, after -serving with distinction through the revolution--being aid to General -Washington, Representative and Senator in Congress, and Secretary of -State--spent the evening of his unusually prolonged and honored life, -in the culture of a small farm of 120 or 130 acres, with a suitably -modest dwelling, near Salem, Mass.: literally, and through necessity, -(for he was always poor) earning his bread by his own daily toil. With -Dr. Johnson, I deride the hacknied pedantry of a constant recurrence to -ancient Greece and Rome--without, however, being quite ready to "knock -any man down who talks to me about the second Punic War." But, in -contemplating the stern virtues, that poverty and rural toil fostered -in those earlier worthies of New England, and that still animate the -"bold yeomanry, a nation's pride," who yet hold out against the -advancing tide of wealth, indolence, and luxury--I cannot forbear an -exulting comparison of these my countrymen, with the pure and hardy -spirits that graced the best days of republican Rome: - - Regulum, et Scauros, animćque magnć - Prodigum Paulum superante Poeno, - - * * * * * - - Fabriciumque, - Hunc, et incomptis Curium capillis - Utilem bello, tulit, et Camillum, - Sćva paupertas, et avitus apto - Cum lare fundus. - -[Footnote 1: On Evidence, and Bills of Exchange and Promissory Notes.] - -In the household economy of these thrifty and industrious people, it -were endless to specify all the things worthy of our imitation. Their -use of cold bread conduces to good in a threefold way: a less quantity -satisfies the appetite, and it is in itself more digestible than warm -bread; thus doubly promoting health: while there is a sensible saving -of flour. The more frugal scale upon which their ordinary meals are set -forth, is another point in which for the sake of economy, health, and -clearness of mind, we might do well to copy them. By burning seasoned -wood, kept ready for the saw in a snug house built on purpose, and by -the simple expedient of having the doors shut and all chinks carefully -closed, they secure warm rooms with half the fuel that would otherwise -be necessary. I cannot, however, forgive their bringing no buttermilk -to table. The _natives_ seem wholly ignorant, how pleasant and -wholesome a food it is for man; and give it to their pigs. The -hay-harvest lasts from four to six weeks; it has been going on ever -since the 1st of July. Of course, the hay cut at such different periods -must vary greatly in ripeness: and here they confirm me in a long -standing belief, which I have striven in vain to impress upon some -Virginia hay farmers--that the hay, cut before the _seeds_ are nearly -ripe, is always best. The earlier part of the mowing, (where the crop -is about equally forward) is most juicy, sweet and tender. The corn is -now in tassel, having attained nearly its full height: the height of -about five feet, on rich land! It is a sort differing from ours: small -in grain and ear, as well as in stalk; and very yellow grained. It -ripens in less time than ours; adapting itself to the shorter summers -of this latitude. It is planted very thick: three or four stalks in a -hill, and the hills but three feet apart. - -With many vegetables and fruits, the season is five or six weeks later -here than in Virginia. Thus, garden peas are still, every day, on the -tables: I had cherries in Boston last week, of kinds which ripened with -us early in June; and it is but a fortnight, since strawberries, both -red and white, were given me in Connecticut--by the way, it was _at -breakfast_. - -On the margin of this village, is a curious agricultural exhibition. It -is a large tract of flat land upon Connecticut river, of great -fertility and value (one hundred and fifty or two hundred dollars an -acre,) containing altogether several thousand acres. With one or two -trifling exceptions, it has no houses or dividing fences upon it, -though partitioned among perhaps two hundred proprietors. Hardly an -opulent, or _middling_ wealthy man in Northampton, but owns a lot of -five, ten, twenty, or fifty acres, in this teeming expanse. The lots -are all in crops, of one kind or other; and being mostly of regular -shapes (oblongs, or other four sided figures,) the various aspects they -present, accordingly as the crop happens to be deep green, light green, -or yellow--mown, or unmown--afford a singular and rich treat, to an eye -that can at once survey the whole. Most opportunely, Mount Holyoke (the -great lion of western Massachusetts, to scenery-hunters,) furnishes the -very stand, whence not only this lovely plain is seen, but the river, -its valley, and the adjacent country, for twenty or thirty miles -around. Nearly a thousand feet below you, and not quite a mile from the -foot of the mountain, the low ground, fantastically chequered into lots -so variously sized and colored--dwindling too, by the distance, into -miniatures of themselves--reminds you of a gay bed-quilt. A lady of our -party (we ascended the mountain this afternoon, and staid till after -sunset,) aptly compared it to a Yankee _comfort_; the elms and fruit -trees dotted over the surface, and shrunk and softened in the distance, -representing the tufts of wool which besprinkle that appropriately -named article of furniture. The whole landscape, seen from Mount -Holyoke, it would be presumptuous in me to try to describe. I have -said, twenty or thirty miles around: but in one direction, we see, in -clear weather, the East and West Rocks, near New Haven--about seventy -miles off. Fourteen villages are within view. The whole scene is -panoramic: it is as vivid and distinct as reality; but rich, soft and -mellow, as a picture. We descended; and as we recrossed the river by -twilight, the red gleams from the western sky, reflected in long lines -from the dimpling water, forced upon more than one mind that fine -passage in a late work of fiction, where the remark, that "no man can -judge of the happiness of another," is illustrated by the reflection of -moon-beams from a lake. But I am growing lack-a-daisical: and must -conclude. - -I set off in the stage for Albany, at two o'clock in the morning. Good -night. - - - - -We copy the following production of Mrs. Sigourney from the "_American -Annuals of Education and Instruction_," a periodical published in -Boston. It is difficult to decide whether the prose or poetry of this -distinguished lady is entitled to preference. Her noble efforts in -behalf of her own sex deserve their gratitude and our admiration. - -ON THE POLICY OF ELEVATING THE STANDARD OF FEMALE EDUCATION. - -Addressed to the American Lyceum, May, 1834. - - -The importance of education seems now to be universally admitted. It -has become the favorite subject of some of the wisest and most gifted -minds. It has incorporated itself with the spirit of our vigorous and -advancing nation. It is happily defined by one of the most elegant of -our living writers, as the "_mind of the present age, acting upon the -mind of the next_." It will be readily perceived how far this machine -surpasses the boasted lever of Archimedes, since it undertakes not -simply the movement of a mass of matter, the lifting of a dead planet -from its place, that it might fall, perchance, into the sun and be -annihilated; but the elevation of that part of man whose power is -boundless, and whose progress is eternal, the raising of a race "made -but a little lower than the angels," to a more entire assimilation with -superior natures. - -In the benefits of an improved system of education, the female sex are -now permitted liberally to participate. The doors of the temple of -knowledge, so long barred against them, have been thrown open. They are -invited to advance beyond its threshold. The Moslem interdict that -guarded its hidden recesses is removed. The darkness of a long reign of -barbarism, and the illusions of an age of chivalry, alike vanish, and -the circle of the sciences, like the shades of Eden, gladly welcome a -new guest. - -While gratitude to the liberality of this great and free nation is -eminently due from the feebler sex, they have still a boon to request. -They ask it as those already deeply indebted, yet conscious of ability -to make a more ample gift profitable to the _giver_ as well as to the -_receiver_. It seems desirable that their education should combine more -of thoroughness and solidity, that it should be expanded over a wider -space of time, and that the depth of its foundation should bear better -proportion to the height and elegance of its superstructure. Their -training ought not to be for display and admiration, to sparkle amid -the froth and foam of life, and to become enervated by that indolence -and luxury, which are subversive of the health and even the existence -of a republic. They should be qualified to act as teachers of knowledge -and of goodness. However high their station, this office is no -derogation from its dignity; and its duties should commence whenever -they find themselves in contact with those who need instruction. The -adoption of the motto, that _to teach is their province_, will inspire -diligence in the acquisition of a knowledge, and perseverance in the -beautiful mechanism of pure example. - -It is requisite that they who have, in reality, the _moulding of the -whole mass of mind in its first formation_, should be profoundly -acquainted with the structure and capacities of that mind; that they -who nurture the young citizens of a prosperous republic, should be able -to demonstrate to them, from the broad annals of history, the blessings -which they inherit, and the wisdom of preserving them, the value of -just laws, and the duty of obeying them. It is indispensable that they -on whose bosom the infant heart is laid, like a germ in the quickening -breast of spring, should be vigilant to watch its first unfoldings, and -to direct its earliest tendrils where to twine. It is unspeakably -important, that they who are commissioned to light the lamp of the -soul, should know how to feed it with pure oil; that they to whose hand -is entrusted the welfare of a being never to die, should be able to -perform the work, and earn the wages of heaven. - -Assuming the position that _females are by nature designated as -teachers_, and that the mind in its most plastic state is their pupil, -it becomes a serious inquiry, _what they will be likely to teach_. They -will, of course, impart what they best understand, and what they most -value. They will impress their own peculiar lineaments upon the next -generation. If vanity and folly are their predominant features, -posterity must bear the likeness. If utility and wisdom are the objects -of their choice, society will reap the benefit. This influence is most -palpably operative in a government like our own. Here the intelligence -and virtue of every individual possesses a heightened relative value. -The secret springs of its harmony may be touched by those whose -birth-place was in obscurity. Its safety is interwoven with the welfare -of all its subjects. - -If the character of those to whom the charge of schools is committed, -has been deemed not unworthy the attention of lawgivers, is not _her_ -education of consequence, who begins her labor before any other -instructor, who pre-occupies the unwritten page of being, who produces -impressions which nothing on earth can efface, and stamps on the cradle -what will exist beyond the grave, and be legible in eternity? - -The ancient republics overlooked the worth of that half of the human -race, which bore the mark of physical infirmity. Greece, so exquisitely -susceptible to the principle of beauty, so skilled in wielding all the -elements of grace, failed to appreciate the latent excellence of woman. -If, in the brief season of youth and bloom, she was fain to admire her -as the acanthus-leaf of her own Corinthian capital, she did not -discover, that like that very column, she might have added stability to -the temple of freedom. She would not believe that her virtues might -have aided in consolidating the fabric which philosophy embellished and -luxury overthrew. - -Rome, notwithstanding her primeval rudeness, and the ferocity of her -wolf-nursed greatness, seems more correctly, than polished Greece, to -have estimated the "weaker vessel." Here and there, upon the storm -driven billows of her history, the form of woman is distinctly visible, -and the mother of the Gracchi still stands forth in strong relief, amid -that imagery, over which time has no power. Yet where the brute force -of the warrior was counted godlike, the feebler sex were prized, only -in their approximation to the energy of a sterner nature, as clay was -held in combination with iron, in the feet of that mysterious image -which troubled the visions of the Assyrian king. - -To some of the republics of South America, the first dawn of liberty -gave a light which Greece and Rome, so long her favored votaries, never -beheld. Even in the birth of their political existence, they discovered -that the sex whose _strength is in the heart_, might exert an agency in -modifying national character. New Grenada set an example which the -world had not before seen. Ere the convulsive struggles of revolution -had subsided, she unbound the cloistered foot of woman, and urged her -to ascend the heights of knowledge. She established a college for -females, and gave its superintendence to a lady of talent and -erudition. We look with solicitude toward the result of this -experiment. We hope that our sisters of the "cloud-crowned Andes," may -be enabled to secure and to diffuse the blessings of education, and -that from their abodes of domestic privacy, a hallowed influence may go -forth, which shall aid in reducing a chaos of conflicting elements to -order, and symmetry, and permanent repose. - -In our own country, man, invested by his Maker with the "right to -reign," has nobly conceded to her, who was for ages a vassal, equality -of intercourse, participation in knowledge, guardianship over his -dearest possessions, and his fondest hopes. He is content to "bear the -burden and heat of the day," that she may dwell in plenty, and at ease. -Yet from the very felicity of her lot, dangers arise. She is tempted to -rest in superficial attainments, to yield to that indolence which -spreads like rust over the intellect, and to merge the sense of her own -responsibilities in the slumber of a luxurious life. These tendencies -should be neutralized by an education of utility, rather than of -ornament. Sloth and luxury, the subverters of republics, should be -banished from her vocabulary. It is expedient that she be surrounded in -youth with every motive to persevering industry, and severe -application; and that in maturity she be induced to consider herself an -ally in the cares of life, especially in the holy labor of rearing the -immortal mind. While her partner stands on the high places of the -earth, toiling for his stormy portion of that power or glory from which -it is her privilege to be sheltered, let her feel that to her, in the -recesses of the domestic sphere, is entrusted the culture of that -knowledge and virtue, which are the strength of a nation. Happily -secluded from lofty legislation and bold enterprise, with which her -native construction has no affinity, she is still accountable to the -government by which she is protected, for the character of those who -shall hereafter obtain its honors, and control its functions. - -Her place is in the quiet shade, to watch the little fountain, ere it -has breathed a murmur. But the fountain will break forth into a stream, -and the swelling rivulet rush toward the sea; and she, who was first at -the fountain head and lingered longest near the infant streamlet, might -best guide it to right channels; or, if its waters flow complaining and -turbid, could truest tell what had troubled their source. - -Let the age which has so freely imparted to woman the treasures of -knowledge, add yet to its bounty, by inciting her to gather them with -an unremitting and tireless hand, and by expecting of her the highest -excellence of which her nature is capable. Demand it as a debt. Summon -her to abandon inglorious ease.--Arouse her to practise and to enforce -those virtues, which sustain the simplicity, and promote the permanence -of a great republic. Make her answerable for the character of the next -generation. Give her this solemn charge in the presence of "men and of -angels,"--gird her for its fulfilment with the whole armor of education -and piety, and see if she be not faithful to her offspring, to her -country, and to her God! - -L. H. S. - - - - -We beg our readers to amuse themselves with the following article from -Mr. Fairfield's Magazine. We cannot however, whilst we value the -importance of having an euphonous and pleasant sounding name, -sympathise very sincerely with Mr. Rust in the horror he has conceived -towards his own. We had rather be Lazarus in all his misery than Dives -in "purple and fine linen." - - From the North American Magazine. - -MY NAME. - - "Quid rides? mutato nomine, de te - Fabula narratur."--_Horace, Sat. 1. Lib, I. 70_. - - -"Nil admirari" has always been my maxim, yet there is one thing which -excites my wonder. It _is_ astonishing, that a man, who leaves his son -no other legacy, cannot at least give him a good name. What could have -been my father's motive, in inflicting upon me that curse of all -curses--my name, I cannot determine. Trifling as so small a matter may -appear, it has been my ruin. Bah! I shudder when I think of it! shade -of my honored parent! would nothing but a scripture name satisfy thee? -Why didst thou not then entitle me -Ezra?--Zedekiah?--Nimri?--anything--it must out--but Lazarus! - -Yes--LAZARUS RUST--that is my name; and, if any man can now blame me -for being a misanthrope, let him come forward. As I said, my name has -been my ruin. It has made existence a curse since my childhood; even at -school, I was tormented almost to madness. I was the only boy who was -not nicknamed. The most malicious were satisfied; they could not -improve upon Lazarus. - -Of all men, the most impertinent are your stage agents. They have a -trick of asking your name, with an insulting coolness, which, to a man -of delicate sensibilities, is extremely annoying. I shall never forget -my first stagecoach journey. The fellow at the desk looked me full in -the face, and calmly asked my name. I felt the blood boiling in my -face, and my first impulse was to knock him down. But I was a prudent -man, even when a boy; so I satisfied myself with turning contemptuously -on my heel. The fellow was by my side in a moment. "Sir," said he, in -the silver tones of a lackey, "will you allow me to inquire your name?" -This was too much. "Allow me to tell you, sirrah," I cried, almost -suffocated with rage, "that you are an impertinent scoundrel." - -The bar room was in a roar. That laugh is sounding still in my ears, -like the roar of a mighty cataract. What diabolical music some men make -of laughing! When the agent explained to me the reason of his inquiry, -I felt so consummately silly, that I forgot my usual precaution of -giving only my initial, and, in a voice painfully distinct, I -answered--Lazarus Rust! - -They did not laugh. I could have borne a deafening shout: but that -suppressed smile! let me not think of it. Of all mortal sufferings, the -keenest is the consciousness of being the object of ridicule, mingled -perhaps with pity. O! Heaven! what did I not suffer--what have I not -suffered, from this one source? - -All this comes of my father's--what shall I call it?--madness, in -calling me Lazarus. By the by, they tell me that, when I was baptized, -a murmur of laughter arose from the whole congregation; and even the -minister, as he uttered the solemn form, could not entirely conceal the -smile, which, in spite of his utmost exertions played upon his lips. - -A history of my ludicrous misfortunes would fill a volume. Perhaps the -most ludicrous of all was at my marriage. "A rose, by any other name, -would smell as sweet;" and a Lazarus may love as ardently as a Dives. I -confess I did love Phoebe McLarry--(how sweetly the name flows from -your lips!) she was not beautiful, but she loved me notwithstanding my -name, "and I loved her that she did pity me." So we were married. But, -when the priest repeated, "Son, Lazarus, take Phoebe," &c. I could not -refrain from laughing myself. - -They say that the constitution of our habits is such, that, by degrees, -we can become reconciled to anything, but I am not yet satisfied with -my name. I still persist in writing it L. Rust. I have seen a good deal -of human nature; and, I must think, notwithstanding Shakspeare's -opinion, that there is something in a name. Indeed, a man's name tinges -his whole character. If it is a good one, he may sign even a mortgage -deed with a light heart; and, if he writes a neat hand, he will rise -from the desk a happy man. His flowing autograph, and more flowing -name, make even poverty tolerable. But your Nimris, and Obadiahs! that -which, to some men, is the pleasantest thing in existence--the seeing -their names in print, is to them, utter and hopeless agony. And then -their officious friends are eternally superscribing their letters with -the name written out in full. There is one member of Congress, who, -throughout the whole session, most perseveringly franks his dull -speeches to Lazarus Rust, esq. One would think L. Rust was sufficiently -definite, and it certainly has the advantage in point of euphony. I -wish he was in Heaven. I know of no damper to ambition like a bad name. -I would not immortalize myself if I could. Lazarus Rust, indeed,--that -would look well inscribed on a monument! I say with Emmett, "Let no man -write my epitaph." It would perhaps run thus: - - "Here lies the body of Lazarus Rust - With what a horrible name the poor fellow was _cust_." - -No--not for me is the laurel wreath of immortality. When I die, let me -be forgotten. If there is any truth in the doctrine of transmigration, -I may yet take my chance. "I bide my time." - -After all, I sometimes endeavor to persuade myself that it is a mere -matter of taste. We have no reason to suppose that Lazarus was the -worst name in the Hebrew genealogy. It must be confessed, however, that -there are some disagreeable associations connected with it, aside from -its sound; and, to speak the plain truth, it is a most disgusting -appellation, fit only for a monkey. Yet I am compelled to bear it about -with me--a thorn in the flesh, from which I cannot escape; it adheres -to me like the poisoned tunic of Nessus. I would appeal to the -Massachusetts Legislature, but my friends have a decided partiality for -Lazarus, and would never know me by any other name. So, as Lazarus I -have lived, Lazarus will I die. - -I have redeemed my father's error, in naming my own children; I cannot, -'tis true, rub off the Rust: but, for the matter of Christian names, I -defy the Directory to furnish a more princely list. When my eldest son -was born, I vowed he should never be ashamed of his name, so I called -him Henry Arthur Augustus George Bellville--so far, so good--it breaks -my heart to add--Rust. The sly rogue has since improved his cognomen, -by spelling it with a final e--thus: Henry A. A. G. B. Ruste--how it -takes off the romance to add--eldest son of Lazarus Rust, esq.! - -Finally, as I have the misfortune, like my namesake of old, to be of -that class of mortals, denominated "poor devils," I can say, with the -utmost sincerity, "who steals _my_ purse, steals trash; and he who -filches from me my good name," has decidedly the worst of the bargain. - -J. D. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -The following lines are from the pen of Dr. _J. R. Drake_. Sacred be -his memory! A warmer patriot never breathed. The piece was written at -the time of the invasion, and but a few days previous to the brilliant -victory of the eighth of January. It is addressed to the defenders of -New Orleans. - - - Hail! sons of gen'rous valor! - Who now embattled stand, - To wield the brand of strife and blood, - For freedom and the land; - And hail to him your laurel'd chief! - Around whose trophied name, - A nation's gratitude has twin'd, - The wreath of deathless fame. - - Now round that gallant leader, - Your iron phalanx form; - And throw, like ocean's barrier rocks, - Your bosoms to the storm-- - Though wild as ocean's waves it rolls, - Its fury shall be low-- - For justice guides the warrior's steel, - And vengeance strikes the blow. - - High o'er the gleaming columns - The banner'd star appears; - And proud, amid the martial band, - His crest the Eagle rears-- - As long as patriot valor's arm - Shall win the battle's prize, - That star shall beam triumphantly-- - That Eagle seek the skies. - - Then on! ye daring spirits! - To danger's tumults now! - The bowl is fill'd, and wreath'd the crown, - To grace the victor's brow; - And they who for their country die, - Shall fill an honored grave; - For glory lights the soldier's tomb, - And beauty weeps the brave. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -VALEDICTORY IN JULY 1829, - -_At the final breaking up of the ---- School, in consequence of the ill -health of Mrs. ----, the Principal, after it had continued for eight -years._ - - -Among the numerous analogies, my young friends, which have been traced -between the body and the mind, there is not one that requires more of -our attention than the necessity of constantly supplying each with its -appropriate food, if we would keep both in sound, vigorous health. -Although the nutriment of the first be altogether material, and that of -the second spiritual, yet the same want of daily supply is equally -obvious in regard to the improvement and preservation of mental as well -as bodily qualities. Without our daily bread we must all in some short -time sicken and die; without some daily intellectual repasts, the soul -must soon become diseased and perish. It is true that in each case the -food may be much and often beneficially diversified--although there are -some standard articles that cannot be dispensed with on any occasion -without inconvenience, if not actual injury. Such for example are bread -for the body and some moral aliment for the mind. Upon this principle -it is that I have always deemed it essential, every time I have -addressed you, to mingle some moral instruction with every thing I have -said, since it is _this_ which constitutes the true leaven of the bread -of life--and _this_ it is which will always prove an acceptable part of -their mental food, to all whose appetites and tastes have not been -depraved by mental condiments, which stimulate and gratify the passions -at the expense of the soul. - -An irresistible inducement on the present occasion to pursue towards -you the course to which I have so long been prompted both by principle -and habit, is, that _this_ is certainly the last opportunity I shall -ever have of addressing you as pupils. The connexion of teachers and -scholars which has subsisted for so many years between yourselves and -my family, is about to be dissolved forever. But this circumstance has -greatly augmented my solicitude to render the last admonitions I shall -ever give you in my character of adviser, of some permanent service to -you. They will relate to such endowments of mind and qualities of heart -as you will most frequently have occasion to exercise in future life. -These are, self-control, gentleness and benevolence of disposition, -purity and rectitude of conduct, courtesy and politeness of manner. - -The necessity for acquiring self-control arises, not only from the -impossibility of gratifying all, even of our lawful wishes--to say -nothing of those unhallowed ones which increase in a tenfold proportion -from every indulgence--but from the almost continual calls for its -exercise in all our intercourse with society. At home or abroad--in the -depths of solitude, or in the busiest haunts of men--in all our -domestic relations, as well as in those which place us in a more -extended sphere of action, this all important quality is in continual -demand. In governing ourselves it is indispensable; nor is it much less -necessary when duty requires us to govern, direct or persuade others. -Even when we are casually brought into the company of strangers, and -for a short time only, it often enables us to command respect and to -gain esteem, by manifesting the vast superiority of a well regulated -mind over one which yields to every impulse of passion that assails it. -This inestimable quality of self-control gives additional zest to all -our lawful pleasures, and enhances our highest enjoyments, by causing -us always to stop short of satiety; while it enables us by God's help, -resolutely and undisturbed, to meet all the crosses and trials to which -others may subject us. In a word, it arms us against the strongest -temptation of our own passions, and empowers us to disregard the worst -that can be attempted against us by the passions of other people. It is -in fact the _regulator_, (if I may so express myself,) which governs -all the machinery of our minds in such a manner as to prevent them from -going either too fast or too slow. How many mortifications and -disappointments--how much anger, resentment and grief does it not -prevent our suffering from the envy, hatred, malice and -uncharitableness of the world around us! How often does it save us from -the shame and degradation of sensual indulgence; from the turpitude of -sin; from the anguish of remorse. It is the effectual check to the -depravity of our nature, which a merciful God will enable us always to -apply, if we will only ask it of him as we ought--that is, by continual -prayer and supplication. - -The other qualities, gentleness, benevolence, purity, rectitude, -courtesy and politeness, when accompanied by good sense and a well -cultivated mind, constitute the great charm of domestic and social -life. Indeed, they may well be called indispensable requisites, since -there can be no happiness and very little comfort without them. There -never was a greater, a more fatal mistake, than the too common one of -supposing that the chief use of such qualities is in society at large; -in other words, when we are acting a part before the world, in our -ridiculous struggles for distinction and power. Selfishness is the -mainspring of all such efforts, and it so sharpens our sagacity as to -convince us that our bad qualities _must_ be restrained in public, or -they will frequently subject us to punishment if we attempt to disturb -others by their indulgence. But in private life, and particularly in -the family circle, there are few so insignificant or destitute of means -to disturb others as not to possess the power of causing much -annoyance, if not actual unhappiness. A single individual of a waspish, -irritable, jealous, gossipping, envious and suspicious temper, in these -situations, may destroy the peace and poison the domestic enjoyments of -a large family. No incident is too trivial to excite some one or other -of their bad passions; no person too unoffending to provoke them; no -conduct so guarded as to escape malignant remark. Their approach, like -the sirocco of the desert, produces an irresistible depression of -spirits; constraint and embarrassment spread a gloom over every -countenance, and the voice of joy and gladness dies away in their -presence. On the other hand, the emanations of a gentle, benevolent -disposition, produce the same impression on our hearts, that the balmy -breezes and sweet smelling flowers of the vernal season do on our -senses. It is a something that we feel deeply in the inmost recesses of -our bosom, but cannot well describe. It is an atmosphere of delight in -which we would gladly breathe during our whole life. - -By purity of thought and rectitude of conduct, in which are -comprehended the inestimable virtues of truth, candor and sincerity, we -secure for ourselves the unutterable enjoyment of an approving -conscience, at the same time that we obtain from others their esteem, -their admiration, and their love. We may manifest these qualities in -every part of our intercourse with others; for whether we speak or act, -occasions continually present themselves to prove that we possess them. -By conversation we show the purity of our sentiments; by conduct we -manifest the rectitude of our principles--so that in all we either say -or do, we supply others with the means of ascertaining what manner of -persons we are. True we may deceive some by playing the hypocrite; but -the persons whose good opinion is really worth gaining, are not so -easily gulled, and our loss, if the game is once seen through, is -irretrievable. - -In regard to courtesy and politeness, they may justly be called the -offspring of benevolence, since their chief object is to promote the -ease, the comfort, the pleasure, and happiness of others. It must be -admitted there are counterfeit qualities which sometimes pass -undetected. But _they_ are the base born children of art and -selfishness, aiming solely to promote their own interests by deceiving -other people into a belief that _their_ gratification is the end of all -their efforts to please. To say nothing of the continual labor and -constraint necessary to enable these circulators of false coin to -escape discovery and exposure, the superior ease and safety of genuine -courtesy and politeness, should be a sufficient inducement with all -young persons to study most assiduously to acquire them, even on the -supposition that we had no better guide for all our actions in relation -to others. That honesty _in manner_, as well as _in conduct_, will ever -be found to be the best policy, amid all the varying forms, fashions -and practices of the world, is I believe, as certain as that truth is -better than falsehood--virtue preferable to vice. Another argument -greatly in favor of genuine courtesy and politeness is, that they are -the most current and easily procurable coin you can possibly use, being -equally well adapted (if I may keep up the metaphor,) to make either -large or small purchases. The articles procured too in exchange, always -greatly exceed in real intrinsic value, all that you ever give for -them. This is merely the manifestation of a sincere, an earnest desire -to please; while the precious return is almost always the cordial -expression of truly friendly feeling, the look of pleasurable emotion, -and the affectionate regards of a grateful heart, particularly where -the intercourse has been of sufficient duration to admit of some little -development of character. Let it not be said that a cause apparently so -slight is inadequate to produce such strong effects. There lives not a -human being who has ever felt the influence of genuine courtesy and -politeness, but can testify to the truth of what has been said in their -praise. Nor is it easy to imagine the possibility of any individual's -remaining insensible of their value, who like you my young friends, -have always been accustomed to the society of ladies and gentlemen. -Knowing this as I do, I should consider it somewhat like a work of -supererogation to press upon you the absolute necessity of your -constantly cultivating these invaluable qualities, if I were not -thoroughly satisfied from painful experience, that almost all young -persons require at least occasional admonition on this subject. In vain -do some parents solicit, persuade--nay, beseech their daughters, never -for a moment to forget what is due to the character of a lady, both in -manners and deportment; in vain do they implore them with aching hearts -to make a better return for all a mother's care and affection; to no -purpose do they pray for that purity of heart and rectitude of -principle in their offspring, which is the only true source of good -manners: their unfortunate, wayward children continue to act, as if the -chief purpose of their existence was to prove to the world how little -influence their parents have over them. They seem utterly reckless of -the parental tie--regardless of all the disparaging inferences which -may be drawn from their own conduct in relation to the characters of -their connexions--and continue hardened alike against advice or -reproof, in whatever language or manner it may be offered to them. God -forbid that such should be the moral portrait of any of my present -auditors; but you have all sufficient experience to know that it is not -a fancy picture, nor one wherein the features are so exaggerated and -caricatured, as to be unlike any person who has ever lived. If none of -your schoolmates have ever resembled it, you have either seen or heard -of some others in the world whom it would fit. Should your own -consciences acquit you, as I sincerely trust they do, of all liability -to pursue so reckless a course, both in regard to parental and other -admonition--let me beseech you, my young friends, not to tax your -imaginations with laboring to conjecture whether I aim at any -particular individuals, for I do not; but strive most assiduously to -examine your own hearts thoroughly as to all these points, and study so -to act on all occasions and towards every person with whom you may have -any thing to do, that the praise not only of courtesy and politeness -may ever be yours, but likewise the far more exalted merit of right -minds and pure hearts. - -When I look back on the years that have passed away since this school -commenced; when I reflect on the many anxious hours which your teachers -have spent in meditating on the most effectual means to render their -instructions and admonitions conducive to your eternal as well as -temporal welfare; and when I recollect the several instances wherein I -am persuaded they had good cause to believe that an all bounteous -Providence had favored their humble labors, my heart is filled with -gratitude for the past; and I cherish the fond hope that _you too_, my -young friends, will be added to the number of those, who by the -exemplary character of your future lives, will cause your instructers -to rejoice that _you_ likewise have once been their pupils. Three or -four of you have been so from the first to the last, and the rest have -been long enough members of our family to be thoroughly acquainted with -the whole course of our instruction. You cannot therefore be ignorant -either of the chief objects at which you have always been taught to -aim, or of the means recommended to be invariably pursued for their -attainment. If you have failed to profit by them the fault must rest -somewhere; the awful responsibility attaches to one or both parties; -and let us all earnestly pray to God, that the purity and rectitude of -our future lives, should it please him to spare us, may avert the -punishment justly due to such offences. That none may plead -forgetfulness, let me briefly recapitulate once more, and for the last -time, what our course has been. The primary objects always most -earnestly pressed upon your attention have been, first and above all, -to prepare yourselves for another and a better world, by a life of -usefulness in the present; by the love and fear of God; by cheerful -obedience to his will; and by continually doing good to your fellow -creatures whenever you had the means and the opportunity. Your -secondary objects have been the study of sciences and languages, -physical and intellectual improvement, with a view, not to foster pride -and vanity, but solely to increase your power of being useful. Lastly, -you have been taught to acquire certain arts usually ranked under the -head of "accomplishments," but you have been invariably and -perseveringly admonished to consider them merely as _recreations_, -innocent if indulged in only occasionally, but sinful when made, as -they too often are, the principal business of life. On all occasions -too, you have been persuaded never so far to confide in the maxim that -"youth is the season for enjoyment," as to forget that, like old age it -_may_, and too often _is_, the season of suffering also. A preparation -for such contingencies _must_ be made by all, or the hour of -misfortune, although every human being is destined to meet it, will -overwhelm those who are unprepared for it with a degree of misery which -admits of neither alleviation nor cure. Young as you all are, and -little as you have yet seen of human life, you have already felt, if -not in your own persons, at least in the case of others, something of -the effect produced by sudden and unexpected calamity, bursting like a -thunderclap on the heads of its devoted victims. But a few days have -passed away since you were witnesses to such an event in the case of -two of your school companions. The morning on which it happened shone -upon them cheerful and happy as any among you, unconscious of any -impending misfortune, undisturbed by any anticipations to mar their -peace. Yet, in a very few hours from that time, they were both plunged -into the deepest affliction; both by a single blow reduced perhaps to -poverty; both suddenly called by the most awful death of a parent of -one of them, to return to a wretched family bereft of its chief -support, and crushed to the earth in all the helplessness of -irremediable wo. Alas! my young friends, how few of you ever think of -drawing from such occurrences the many salutary lessons they are so -well calculated to impart! How many turn away from them as matters to -be banished as speedily as possible from your remembrance; as events -never likely to happen to yourselves! Yet every hour that we -live--every moment that we breathe--not one among us, no not one single -individual, can truly say, "_I_ am free--_I_ am exempt both from -present and contingent calamity." Far, very far am I indeed, from -wishing you to be so constantly absorbed in gloomy anticipations, as to -prevent you in the slightest degree from enjoying every innocent -gratification suitable to your respective ages and situations in life. -But I would have you all to know and to feel in your inmost heart, that -"sweet are the uses of adversity," and that none should think -themselves fit to live until they feel prepared to die the death of the -righteous before God and man. Hard as this requisition may seem, -thousands upon thousands, and of your age too, have complied with it to -the very letter. Thousands have furnished angelic examples, even to the -aged and hoary headed, that the fresh, the blooming, the joyous period -of youth may be dedicated to God, as well as that worn out remnant of -life when all power of earthly enjoyment is supposed to be dead within -us, and nothing remains to be offered to heaven but exhausted faculties -and fast decaying intellects. Has not our blessed Saviour himself -declared, when speaking of children, that "of such is the kingdom of -heaven;" and in illustration of this truth, are not all the images of -cherubim and seraphim presented to our senses, always represented with -juvenile countenances, glowing with all the innocence and loveliness of -youth? Shall the youth then of the present day--the youth of our own -country--but especially the female portion of them, ever adopt the -fatal delusion that _theirs_ is an age too immature for the acquisition -and exercise of the highest moral and religious attainments. Shall -_they_ fall into the ruinous error that it is yet time enough for them -to attend to spiritual matters, and that the prime and vigor of their -lives are to be wasted in merely temporal pursuits unworthy the -characters and disgraceful to the rational creatures formed for a state -of eternal happiness? Far better would it be that they never had been -born; or that the hand of misfortune--the saddest hours of unmitigated -suffering, should continue to press on them with all their weight, -until they could be brought to know their duty to God, to their fellow -beings, and to themselves. Heaven forbid, my young friends, that such -awful discipline should be necessary to bring _you also_ to a proper -sense of all you owe to the Divine Author of your existence, and to -that society of which you may become either the blessing or the curse. -Heaven forbid that any of you should so far forget the high destinies -for which you were formed--the glorious purposes to which your lives -should be devoted--and the everlasting happiness promised in another -world to all who fulfil their duties in this, as to neglect for a -moment any of the means essential to improve your hearts and minds to -the utmost attainable degree. Nothing--no nothing within the range of -possibility can enable you to do this, but continual, earnest, -heartfelt prayer to God for the aid of his holy spirit in all your -undertakings; frequent and deep meditation on all the vicissitudes of -life; frequent and serious forethought in regard not only to what you -may probably enjoy in the present world, but to what you may possibly -be devoted to suffer. Gay and happy as you all now are in the joyous -anticipations so natural to youth and health, it _may_ be your fate -(but God forbid it ever should,) to see one by one of your nearest and -dearest connexions drop into the grave--some in the very blossom and -promise of juvenile years--others worn down by care, disease and old -age. It _may_ be your fate to be the very last of your race, reserved -to mourn over all who have gone before to another world. All this, my -children, and yet deeper affliction may possibly be _your_ lot--for it -_has been_ that of thousands, aye of millions before you. Can it be of -_no importance_ then; nay, is it not of _the last, the highest, the -most vital importance_, that you should make at least some small -preparation for such appalling contingencies, lest they befal you -utterly unawares? Will you ask me what is that preparation? It is -simply so to use all your good gifts as not to abuse them; so to -cherish all the powers both of your bodies and minds that they may last -as long as nature intended they should, and fulfil all the purposes for -which they were designed; so to divide your time between useful -occupation and necessary recreation, that none may be said to be wasted -or lost; in a word, _so to live_ that you may never be found -_unprepared to die_. The joys of heaven should ever be the beacon to -guide your course; and the road by which you should travel through the -present life to reach them, should be _that_ and _that only_ which your -heavenly Father, through his blessed Son, has commanded and besought -you to take. Thousands who have steadily pursued this course have -testified that it is "a way of pleasantness and a path of peace" to all -who have once attained the dispositions, feelings and principles -enjoined upon those who have made it their choice, in preference to all -other reputed roads to happiness; while not a solitary human being who -has ever tried these other roads, has ever yet been heard to bear -witness in their favor, after the experiment has been fully made. Woful -then must be your mistake, most fatal your error, in choosing "the way -in which you should go," should you rather be led by the sinful -allurements of illicit pleasure, than the universally concurring -testimony of the good, the wise, and the just throughout the world. - -In a few fleeting hours more this school will cease to exist, and your -present monitor will have uttered the last words of admonition which he -will ever address to you as pupils. Anxiously, most anxiously do I -desire to fix them indelibly on your minds. But alas! I feel too -sensibly my own inability, as well as the evanescent nature of all -language in the form of advice, to hope for more than a temporary -impression. If I make even _that_, I shall in part at least have -attained the sole object of all that I ever said to you, which has been -your own intellectual improvement, your own happiness. Let me entreat -you, my dear young friends; let me implore you for the last time, never -to forget (whatever other things you may suffer to escape your -memories,) any of the various moral and religious instructions which -you have received under our care. I feel well assured that they will -not fail to come home to your bosoms--probably too with greatly -augmented force, should the withering blasts of misfortune ever spread -desolation and wo among you. But I pray for something more for you. I -would have you bear them continually in remembrance, even in your -happiest hours of prosperous fortune. I would have each of you -individually meditate on them "when thou sittest in thy house, and when -thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest -up." Then, but not until _then_, will you be fully prepared both for -adversity and prosperity; and then indeed may you confidently trust -that the God of all mercy and goodness will vouchsafe to impart to you -the true christian's last, best hope, both for time and eternity. - -Separated from us all as you will soon be, perhaps forever, and about -to enjoy, as I earnestly desire, a happy meeting with the beloved -friends and relatives from whom you have been so long withdrawn, accept -for the last time our heartfelt assurances that our best wishes, our -anxious prayers for your happiness, will accompany you through all the -vicissitudes of life; that we shall always sympathise both in your joys -and your sorrows; and that our own enjoyments will ever be greatly -augmented by hearing that you are all leading exemplary and happy -lives. For power to do this, forget not--oh! never for a moment forget, -that your sole reliance must be on your heavenly Father and his holy -spirit, which hath been promised abundantly to all who ask it in truth -and sincerity. - -"May the blessing of an all merciful God be ever on you and around you. -May his grace be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. May -it guide, strengthen and support you in all the troubles and -adversities of this life, and bring you, through faith in our Redeemer, -to eternal blessedness in that which is to come."--AMEN. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE SEASONS. - - -The verdant spring, decked in her brightest gems, and arrayed in her -most gorgeous vesture, has driven hoary winter to his icy caverns, and -leads forth her sportive train to kindle a smile upon the face of -nature. The mountain streamlets, revelling in joyous gaiety at their -disenthralment from the chains of winter, are playfully meandering -among the flowrets which deck their velvet banks; and the smiling -vallies, embosomed amid the lofty mountains, put forth their verdure, -as if in commemoration of him who "holdeth in his hand the destiny of -nations!" The blushing rose has expanded beneath the genial rays of the -resplendent god of day, and scents with its fragrance the vernal -zephyrs which stoop to kiss it as they pass. The woods, and rivers, and -mountains, all clad in their variegated garments, seem to mingle in the -celebration of the grand jubilee of nature! - -The flowers of spring have faded. The refulgent sun has ascended yet -higher in his brilliant pathway through the heaven; the gay vesture of -the earth is yellowing beneath his scorching rays. The fruit, of which -the vernal blossoms gave such fair and glorious promise, has ripened -into maturity under his golden influence. Voluptuous summer has been -ushered in upon the stage of time, accompanied and heralded by myriads -of gleesome fairies, wantonly disporting upon the rich carpets, -rivalling in splendor the purple of ancient Tyre, which nature has -spread over the earth for her reception. The chaste Diana holds her -nocturnal course through the blue expanse of ether, studded with -countless gems, the brightest jewels in heaven's diadem, shedding her -mild and mellow light over the sombre forests, and gilding the -sparkling streamlets, which placidly repose beneath her beams. Earth, -sea and air, encompassed by a heavenly serenity, seem to blend their -beauties into one rich picture of loveliness, and offer up their united -orisons to the sovereign Lord of all! - -The revolving wheels of time, in their ceaseless and eternal gyrations, -have rolled away the glories of the regal summer into the vast charnel -house of the past--and the demon of decay, like the fiend consumption, -breathing its fatal influence upon the roseate cheek of youthful -beauty, has withered the tresses which hung in wild luxuriancy upon the -bosom of the earth, and has stamped upon her brow the impress of his -iron signet, as if to shadow forth her approaching doom. The limpid -streams which veined her surface, and under the mild sway of the -queenly summer, danced and sparkled in the sun's meridian beam, now -roll lazily along in their channels, as if performing the funeral -obsequies of the buried past. The vallies, but lately decorated in the -blooming apparel of spring, have now assumed a more variegated and -gorgeous hue, which like the hectic flush which fitfully crimsons the -pallid cheek of consumption's hopeless victim, only indicates the -accelerated progress of decay. A deep, monotonous, unbroken stillness -reigns o'er the hills and vallies, but lately teeming with life and -animation. A creeping, deathlike, insidious languor, the sure precursor -of winter's despotic reign, pervades the works of nature, hushing the -breezes which ripple o'er the surface of the placid lake, and fettering -the whole earth in supine inertness. The face of nature is robed in -melancholy sadness, as if mourning over the faded glories of the -declining year! - -Onward, in cold and gloomy grandeur, advance the frowning heralds of -the despot winter! Every vestige of vernal beauty has faded from their -presence. The mountains, vales and rivulets, as if anticipating his -hateful arrival, have veiled themselves in a frigid, chilling vesture -of white! Even the tears which sympathising heaven sheds upon the bosom -of the earth, become congealed and frozen beneath his blighting -influence. The volcanic fires which rage in the bosom of the towering -mountain cower in dismay from his terrific glance. At length the -tyrant, with his iron sceptre and icy crown, is seated on his throne. -His attendant ministers rush to assist in the frightful coronation, and -amid the demoniac yells which announce the termination of the loathsome -ceremony, the harsh old Boreas shrieks forth the requiem of the -departed year! - -V. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -BYRON'S LAST WORDS. - -BY D. MARTIN. - - - Summer was in its glory. Night came down, - With a light step upon the virent earth; - Sepulchral silence reigned on every side; - And the winds--those heralders of storm - Which curl the billows on Old Ocean's brow, - In their low breathings were inaudible,-- - When a gifted son of Genius sought his home, - And threw himself upon a lowly couch, - And as his being's star went slowly down, - He thus communed in low and faltering tone:-- - - Oh! it is hard to die! - To leave this world of amaranthine green, - Whose glittering pageantry and flowery sheen, - Vie with the glorious sky! - - But alas! the hand of Death, - Has laid its icy grasp upon me now; - The cold sweat rests upon my feverish brow, - And shorter grows my breath! - - Well be it so! - And I will pass away like light at even, - Unto the Houri's amethystine heaven, - Where all immortal go! - - Yet I have drank - Unto its very dregs, the cup of Fame, - And won myself a green, undying name, - In Glory's rank! - - And yet!--oh, yet, - "Break but one seal for me unbroken! - Speak but one word for me unspoken! - Before my sun is set!" - - Oh, for one drop - Of the black waters of that stream sublime, - Which follows in the stormy track of Time, - This breath to stop! - - It may not be! - Yet I would pray that Memory might rest, - Like the wan beauty of the sunlit west, - In dark oblivion's sea! - - Thus did he commune--and when the god of day - Rose like a monarch from his sapphire throne, - His spirit had passed away like morning mist-- - And winged its way unto that far off land, - Where burns fore'er eternity's bright star! - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -TO A YOUNG LADY. - - - How beautiful, fair girl, art thou, - All robed in innocence and truth! - Upon thy calm and snowy brow, - Beam, like a crown, the smiles of youth; - Heaven's sunshine falls and lights thy way, - As one too pure and bright for sorrow-- - And virtue's soft and seraph ray - Flings lustre on thy dawning morrow,-- - Giving a promise, that thy life - Will ever be, with pleasure, rife! - - Upon those dark, bright eyes of thine, - That soft, like moonlit waters, beam, - I love to gaze, and, as they shine, - Of those ethereal beings dream, - That oft, on us, have smiled, in sleep, - Then quickly flown, and made us weep, - That e'er to man, so much of heaven - Should just be shown,--ah! never given! - - How soft the rose upon thy cheek, - Blent with the lily's milder hue, - Whose mingling tints of beauty speak - A sinless spirit--calm and true!-- - The smile, that wreathes thy rosy lip, - Is young affection's radiant token-- - Beauty and Truth in fellowship!-- - The symbol of a heart unbroken; - Within thy bosom, holy thought, - As in a temple, hath its shrine, - Refulgent with a glory caught - From the pure presence of thy mind, - Whose lustre flings a hallowing ray, - Around thee, calm as orient day! - - Oh! may thy life be ever bright, - As aught thine early dreams have framed, - And not a shadow dim its light, - Till heaven, in mercy, shall have claim'd - Thee, as a being fit for naught - That earth can boast, all sorrow-fraught - As are its brightest visions. May - Thy life be one long dream of love, - Unbroken 'til the final day, - When heaven shall waft thy soul above, - And crown thee, as an angel _there_, - Who wast indeed an angel _here!_ - -A. B. M. - -_Tuscaloosa, Alabama_. - - - - -For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -LINES IN AN ALBUM. - - - As sets the sun upon the wave, - At twilight, when the day is done, - Casting a glory round his grave, - That lingers, though his race be run;-- - A glory, that attracts the gaze - Of many a bright, uplifted eye, - Leading the spirit, where his rays - Blend with the quiet, azure sky, - Till evening's star, with diamond beam, - Mirrors his last effulgent gleam;-- - - So I would now, upon this page, - At parting, _this_ memorial leave, - O'er which, perhaps, in after age, - Some pensive eye may kindly grieve, - And mourn the loss of him, who though - His life was all unknown to fame, - Left still behind a feeble glow, - Hallowing, in friendship's sky, his name,-- - A light, that, like a star, will beam, - Long, long, he trusts, in memory's dream! - - * * * * * - - And now my wish for happiness - To thee, I mingle with mine own,-- - A wish--a _prayer_, that heaven may bless, - And keep thee, kind and gentle one, - Free from all sorrow, care and strife,-- - A being far too pure and bright - To wander 'mid the storms of life, - That dim affection's vestal light,-- - A seraph form'd like those above, - For only joy, and peace, and love! - - I need not tell thee, time can ne'er - Thy name from memory's tablet blot, - For thou art to my heart too dear, - To wrong its worship, by the thought; - No! though the world may sorrow bring, - And bear thee far away from me, - It from remembrance ne'er can wring - The thoughts, that aye will turn to thee, - As Chaldea's maiden to the star, - She worships in its sphere afar! - -A. B. M. - -_Tuscaloosa, Alabama_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -PARTING. - - - Farewell!--my hand is trembling yet, - With the last pressure of thine own; - Oh! could my troubled heart forget - The sadness, 'round that parting thrown,-- - Could memory lose the imaged smile, - Bright sparkling through thy gushing tears, - Which played upon thy cheek, the while - Hope struggled with her prophet fears, - That love and bliss no more would throw - Their beams around us, as of erst, - Or happiness, with seraph glow, - Upon our rapturous _meetings_ burst,-- - I then might lose a sorrowing thought, - But one, with deep affection fraught! - - Yet go!--I would not keep thee here, - When "it is best to be away,"-- - Go, seek thy distant home, and ne'er - Let memory 'round these visions stray, - When happiness, and love and joy, - Unto our mingling hearts were given;-- - Oh! go, and ne'er may pain annoy, - Or sorrow dim thine eye's blue heaven, - But peace and pure affection hold - Their vigils 'round thine angel way, - And blessedness thy form enfold, - And keep thee, 'til "the perfect day," - When heaven shall join the hearts of those, - Who here have loved, through countless woes! - - Go!--and I will not ask, or give - A sigh,--a tear,--a single token, - To prove our cherished love will live, - Forever true, in faith unbroken;-- - Though wayward fate has severed far - Our fortunes, by a cruel lot, - Yet love will live, with being's star, - And never,--never be forgot;-- - God's blessings on thee!--if the smile - Of heaven e'er lights a seraph's path,-- - Protecting it from blight the while - It wanders here, 'mid sin and wrath,-- - _Its_ smiles upon _thy_ path shall beam, - And light it, like an Eden dream! - -A. B. M. - -_Tuscaloosa, Alabama_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -LINES SUGGESTED ON VIEWING THE RUINS AT JAMESTOWN. - - - Monuments of other years, on ye I gaze - As yonder sun sheds forth its dying rays; - And as I read these marbles, reared to tell - Who lived beloved, and much lamented fell; - A feeling sad comes o'er my soul, and then - My fancy brings their tenants back again. - Not these alone, but those whose footsteps trod - The soil before, and worshipp'd nature's god - Free from scholastic trammel, and adored - Him thro' his works, without the zealot's sword - To force belief. Where are ye now? Bright star - That shed'st thy soft light thro' the skies afar, - Art thou the same that didst thy pale beams shed - O'er the last broken-hearted Indian's bed? - When death was glazing fast his eagle eye, - Say, didst thou gleam from yonder deep blue sky - O'er his dim vision, and point out the way - Thro' death's dark vestibule to endless day?-- - How did he die? With curses loud and deep - (Startling the panther from his troubled sleep,) - All wildly bursting from his soul for those - Who came as friends, but--proved the worst of foes? - Say, did he breathe his untamed spirit out, - With the stern warrior's wild unearthly shout - Quiv'ring along his lip, all proudly curled, - Which seem'd to say, "defiance to the world?" - Or was the lion quiet in his heart? - And did a gush from feeling's fountain, start - Adown his swarthy cheek, when o'er his soul - Came tender feelings he could not control. - Thoughts of the past perhaps; his aged sire; - His mother bending o'er the wigwam's fire; - His brothers, sisters, and the joyous chase; - The stream he used to lave in oft, to brace - His manly sinews; and perchance the maid, - With whom in brighter days he oft had strayed - Mid the hoar forest's over spreading shade. - Came there a group past mem'ry's straining eye - To teach the _brave_ how hard it was to die? - What boots it now to know? Yet fancy warms - With strange imaginings, and the gaunt forms - Of forest heroes pass her eye before, - As a strange feeling steals the spirit o'er. - Is that Apollo[1] with his polish'd bow - And quiver--with rich locks that freely flow - Adown his neck of graceful form--whose eye - Seems like some bright orb beaming from the sky? - O! shade of Powhatan! I would not dare - To breathe one word upon this balmy air - To make thee sad--for as I look around, - I _feel_ this mournful spot is sacred ground! - If thou dost mark my footsteps, where I tread - Unthinking, o'er those warrior's mounds, who bled - Contending bravely for their own green hills, - Their sunny fountains and their gushing rills, - Their fields, their woods, their partners and their sons, - This noble stream which to the ocean runs,-- - Shade of the mighty Werowance[2] forgive! - No trifling thoughts within this bosom live; - No throb unhallowed thrills my bosom here, - As o'er these mounds I drop a mournful tear. - But day declines; the hosts of heaven ride - All brightly--while the moon, pale as a bride - When at the altar her young vows are given, - Smiles sweetly from her altitude in heaven. - - The red man and the white, together sleep - That dreamless slumber, and the waves' hoarse sweep - Awakes them not--and I a wandering boy, - Will not with my sad song their manes annoy. - - I drop a parting tear, thou sacred pile, - To thy strewn columns and thy moss grown aisle; - Thy broken pavement, and thy ruined arch,-- - How rapid Time, thy desolating march! - - Farewell! farewell! thou sacred, solemn spot; - What I have felt shall not be soon forgot: - Rest, rest, ye slumberers! would that I could sleep; - Your's is all calm, but _I_ must live to weep. - -SYLVANUS. - -_August, 1834_. - -[Footnote 1: It is said of West, the celebrated painter, that on being -shown an Apollo, he exclaimed, "My God, how much like a young _Mohawk -warrior_."] - -[Footnote 2: Indian term for a great man.] - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -ODE WRITTEN ON A FINE NIGHT AT SEA. - - - How softly sweet this zephyr night! - To Venus sends her brilliant light! - And Heav'n's inhabitants unite - Each kindly beam, - To put fell darkness' train to flight, - With gentle gleam. - - The vessel's sides the waters wake, - And waveless as the bounded lake, - A solemn slumber seem to take - Extending wide;-- - Along the ship they sparkling break - And gem the tide. - - Midst such a scene, no thoughts can find - An entrance in the pensive mind, - But such as virtue has refined, - The past must smile-- - And flatt'ring fancy will be kind, - And hope beguile. - - Blest silence! solitary friend-- - My thoughts with thee to _home_ I send; - And _there_ absorbed my sorrows end-- - In vain I roam-- - As blossoms to the day-star tend, - So I to home. - - Not more I owe that glorious ray - That beams the blessing of the day; - Not more my gratitude I pay - For air and light-- - Than for that Home now far away-- - First, best delight. - - A little while, and that blest spot, - From mem'ry shall raze each blot, - And all my wand'rings there forgot, - At last I'll rest-- - No sorrow shall disturb the cot - So loved, so blest. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -AUTUMN WOODS. - - - A deep ton'd requiem's in the sigh - Of the moaning blast, as it hurries by - Yon fading forest; - Upon its rushing wings is borne - A voice sad as the anthem's tone - Above the dead: - It is the wild wind's hymn of death, - Which pours in plaintive strains its breath - O'er autumn woods; - When hurl'd to earth by the fitful storm, - Some frail leaf's wan and wither'd form - Sinks to its tomb. - Sad relics of the dying year; - Thy springtide glories now are sear, - And all departed: - Where now's thy fairy robe of spring, - The sunbeam and the zephyr's wing - Once wove for thee? - Say, where's that gush of melody - Thy sylvan minstrels pour'd for thee - In thy summer bowers? - Or where's the Ćolian song thou wouldst wake - When some sporting zephyr's breath would shake - Thy rustling leaves? - Thy robe--thy song have past away, - And the funeral pall and the funeral lay - Alone are thine! - How oft when summer's azure sky - Was bath'd in the golden, gorgeous dye - Of sunset's glow, - I've lov'd to wander through thy bright - And verdant bowers, gilt with light - Of parting day; - To list to the soft, faint melody - Of thy vesper hymn, as it floated by - On the passing breeze-- - Or view, when on the stream's bright sheen - Was pictured all thy fairy scene - In mimic art;-- - How calm that stream, in its slumber seeming, - Of thee and all thy pageant dreaming - Reflected there. - But thro' thy shades 'twas not alone - I stray'd. With me there wander'd one - Of gentler mould, - Around whose seraph form awakening, - Young beauty's morning light was breaking - In roseate beam-- - And round whose stainless brow fond Love, - And Hope and Joy a wreath had wove - Of freshest bloom. - Thou sad memento of the tomb! - Say, shall that wreath, with its sunny bloom, - E'er fade like thee? - Shall Time's chill mildew on it light, - Or sorrow breathe its _autumn_ blight - Upon its flowers? - A voice is in each falling leaf - Which says, "earth's brightest joys are brief"-- - _Thus fade its hopes!_ - Then mid that wreath of fading flowers - Fond pleasure weaves, to deck her bowers, - Oh! twine that flower - Whose fadeless hue, whose springtide bloom - Immortal lives, beyond the tomb-- - Bright SHARON'S ROSE. - -H. - - - - -We extract the following sprightly effusion from the _North American -Magazine_, published in Philadelphia. It bears a strong resemblance to -the grace and freedom, and _piquancy_ which distinguish the muse of -Halleck, one of the most highly gifted poets in America. We hope our -fair readers, however, will not suppose that the author's satire is -adapted to our meridian. The BEAUTIES of our southern clime, are too -generous and disinterested to be won by the sordid allurements of -splendid edifices, bank shares and gold eagles!--at least we hope so, -and should be sorry to find ourselves mistaken. - -THE DECLARATION. - - - The lady sat within her bower, - Where trellissed vines hung o'er her, - With flashing eye and burning cheek, - Down knelt her fond adorer; - He took her soft white hand, and in - Her bright eye fondly gazing, - Sought for a look, to show that he - An equal flame was raising; - Yet still her eyes were turned away, - And as his heart waxed bolder, - And he devoured her lily hand, - The lady's look grew colder. - - And then he swore by all the stars, - That in the sky were shining-- - By all the verdant vines that o'er - Her gentle bower were twining-- - By mountains, valleys, seas and streams, - And by the moon above her, - And everything therein that e'er - Sophi or saints discover-- - He never could know peace again - On earth, till he had won her; - Yet still she answered not the look - Of love he cast upon her. - - And then he swore, at her command, - To show his love, he would do - What never mortals did before, - And none but lovers could do, - That he would climb up to the moon, - Or swim the ocean over-- - Would dine one day at Sandy Hook, - And sup next night at Dover; - Then jump from thence to London, and - Alight on St. Paul's steeple-- - Then pull the Premier's nose, and make - O'Connell damn the people. - - Or that he would put armour on, - And, like a knight of yore, he - Would fight with giants, castles scale, - And gain immortal glory. - Then go and build a kingdom up, - And be a mighty winner; - Bowstring the Sultan Mahmoud--and - His TURKEY eat for dinner. - Then follow Lander's dismal track, - And on the Niger's banks - An Empire of the Darkies found, - And merit Tappan's thanks! - - If HARDER tasks she did demand, - He would reform the nation, - Make talent, honesty, and worth, - Essentials to high station-- - Make politicians tell the truth, - Give consciences to brokers, - And put upon the temperance list - An army of old soakers-- - Make lawyers "keep the people's peace," - Physicians kill them CHEAPER-- - A cloud was on the lady's brow, - Which, as he spoke, grew deeper. - - He swore she had the brightest eyes, - That ever look'd on mortal; - And that their light was like the rays - That stream from Heaven's own portal; - That by her cheek, the opening rose - Would look but dim and faded; - And darker than the raven's wing, - The hair her fair brow shaded; - That Venus by her side would look - A common country dowdy;-- - The lady blushed and smiled, and then - Her brow again grew cloudy. - - Up sprung the lover then, and said, - "Will you be Mrs. Popkins-- - Miss Julia Jane Amelia Ann - Matilda Polly Hopkins? - I have a house four stories high-- - We'll live in splendid style, and - A handsome countryseat upon - Lake George's sweetest island-- - Ten thousand eagles in the mint, - Bankshares, untold, percented"-- - The lady bent her cheek to his, - Her gentle heart relented! - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -FROM MY SCRAP BOOK. - - - You ask me B----ty, why I mourn, - Yet dry'st the tearful eye? - You ask me why I look with scorn, - And check the heaving sigh? - Time was, when I could carol forth, - To tune of lively glee; - But dark despair has left no hope-- - Nor sigh--nor tear--for me. - Like me--perchance some wayward sprite, - Might dazzling lead astray; - Then leave you on the giddy height, - To perish far away: - Take heed while yet you have the choice, - Avoid the Syren's way; - Nor listen to the artful voice, - Which calls--but to betray; - For sigh from him that is deceived, - Or tear from eye that once believed, - Is sought in vain--tho' fill'd with grief, - Nor sigh nor tear can bring relief; - 'Tis _time_ alone can steel the heart, - And foil the Syren's pointed dart. - -POWHATAN. - -_Petersburg, Dec. 19, 1834_. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE MECHANICIAN AND UNCLE SIMON. - - -About the period of what "_I am gaun to tell_," the ancient aristocracy -of Virginia had passed through its death struggle; the times when the -rich were every thing and the poor nothing, had passed away; and the -high pretensions of the sons of the Cavaliers had yielded to the more -levelling opinions of the Roundheads. The badges of distinction, such -as coats of arms and liveries, had become too odious to be generally -kept up; occasionally however the latter were seen, but so rarely, that -they looked like the spectres of departed greatness, and excited a -feeling of contempt or pity for the weakness of the master, rather than -respect for his wealth and rank. There was one class of people -nevertheless, who retained all their attachment to these distinctive -marks; and indeed they do so to this day: I mean the class of servants -who belonged to the old families. They were the veriest aristocrats -upon earth, and hated with the most unrelenting hatred all the ignoble -blood of the land, and deeply deplored the transition of property from -the nobles to the serfs. Though their own "_ancient but ignoble blood_" -had literally almost "_crept through scoundrels ever since the flood_," -they detested the poor and adored the rich. I shall never forget the -Fall of the year ----. I had just graduated at one of our northern -colleges, and received my two diplomas, with their red ribbons and -seals attached. They were deposited by my good friend Andrew McMackin, -the most expert diploma rigger in all the village, in a plain -cylindrical case of pasteboard, for safe keeping, and would have -remained there probably to this day unmolested, had not the rats made -an inroad upon them, and in a single night demolished sigillum and -signature--all that it had cost me years of hard labor to obtain--aye, -and twenty dollars to boot. Not satisfied, I suppose, with the -attestation of the president and venerable board of trustees, they were -desirous of adding their own ratification of my pretensions to science. -Be that as it may; full of delightful anticipation at the prospect of -returning to my native state, after an absence of four years, I took my -seat in the mail stage, and travelled three hundred miles without once -going to bed. Such a journey at this day of steamboat and railroad car -would be nothing, but at that time it was a great undertaking, and -attended with much fatigue. The vehicles were crazy and often broke -down, and the passengers had the pleasure of paying dearly for the -privilege of walking many a mile through the mud. At length I arrived -at the little town of F----, the end of my journey on the great mail -route, where I expected to meet with some kind of conveyance to take me -into the country to my uncle's. As I leaped from the carriage to the -pavement, where many loiterers were gathered to witness the arrival of -the stage, I found myself suddenly locked in the arms of some one, who -exclaimed, "_There he is, the very moral of his grandpapa!_ God bless -your honor, how do ye do? I'm so glad to see you." Extricating myself -with some degree of embarrassment, because of the crowd around me, I -perceived that the salutation proceeded from one of our old servants, -who stood gazing upon me with the moat benevolent smile. His appearance -was quite outré to one who had lived so long at the north. His old and -faded livery, was blue turned up with yellow; he held in his hand a -horseman's cap, without the bearskin; his boots had once been -white-topped, but could no longer claim that distinctive epithet; like -Sir Hudibras, he wore but one spur, though probably for a different -reason; his high forehead glistened in the sun, and his slightly grey -hair was combed neatly back, and queud behind with an eelskin so tight -that he could hardly wink his eyes, exhibiting a face remarkably -intelligent and strongly marked, with a nose uncommonly high and -hawkbilled for a negro. Perceiving my embarrassment, he drew back with -a very courtly bow, and begged pardon, declaring he was so glad to see -me, he had forgotten himself and made too free. I made haste to assure -him that he had not--gave him a hearty shake by the hand--called him -Uncle Simon, a name he had been always accustomed to from me, and -drawing him aside, overwhelmed him with questions about every body and -every thing at home. Tell me, said I, how is my uncle? "I thank you -sir, quite hearty, and much after the old sort--full of his projjecks, -heh! heh! perpechil motion, and what not." What, said I, is he at that -still? "Oh yes--oh yes--and carridges to go without hawses; God love -you, Mass Ned, I don't think they ken go without animel nater." And how -does my aunt like all this? "Ah!" said he, putting up his hands with an -air of disgust, "She can't abide it--things go on badly. You 'member my -four greys? So beautiful!--my four in hand!--all gone, all sold. Why, -sir, I could whistle them hawses to the charrut jest as easy as snap my -finger. Our fine London charut too! _that's gone_--and my poor Missis -your aunt, has nothin to ride in, but a nasty, pitiful push phaton." I -am sorry to hear it, Simon. "Why, Mass Ned, what mek you all let them -Demmy Cats sarve you so? What you call 'em? Publicanes? Yes, _I'd_ cane -'um as old master used to do." But Simon, how is cousin Mary? "Miss -Mary? Oh, Miss Mary is a beauty; gay as a young filly, and she walks -upon her pasterns ----." Well, well, said I, interrupting him, Simon -let us be off; what have you brought for me to ride? "Old Reglus, sir, -your old favorite." Having taken some refreshment, and transferred my -clothes to the portmanteau, I mounted Regulus, who still shewed his -keeping. He was a bright bay, and his hair was as glossy as silk under -Simon's management; his eye still glanced its fire, and his wide -nostrils gave token of his wind. He knew me, I shall ever believe it, -for my voice made him prick his ears, as if listening to the music of -former days. It seemed to inspire him with new life; he flew like an -arrow, and Simon found it impossible to keep up with me, mounted as he -was on a high trotting, rawboned devil, that made the old man bound -like a trapball, whenever he missed his up-and-down-position movement. -His figure, thus bobbing in front of a monstrous portmanteau and -bearskin, was so ludicrous, I could not forbear laughing; and reining -up my steed, I told him I would ride slower for the sake of -conversation with him. "Do, my good sir," cried he, "for this vile -garran will knock the breath out of my body. If I had but my old hawse -Grey Dick alive agin--that hawse, Mass Ned, was the greatest hawse upon -the face of the yearth; I rod him ninety miles the hottest day that -ever come from heaven, and when I got through our outer gate, he seized -the bit between his teeth, and run away with me, and never stopped till -he got clean into the stable. Whenever I fed him, I was 'bliged to shet -the stable door and go away, for if he heard me move or a stirrup -jingle, he would'nt eat another mouthful, but stood with his head up -and his eyes flying about, impatient for me to mount." I knew this was -the moment to put in a leading question to bring out a story I had -heard a thousand times. That was not the horse that ran away with you -when a boy? "No--no--that was Whalebone; _your_ grandpapa used always -to go to court in his coach and six; I can see him now, in his great -big wig, hanging down upon his shoulders, and powdered as white as a -sheet. I was then a little shaver, and always went behind the carridge -to open the gates. Waitinman George rod the old gentleman's ridin horse -Bearskin, and led Mass Bobby's hawse Whalebone; Mass Bobby rod in the -carridge with old master. Well, one day what should George do but put -me up upon Whalebone, as big a devil as ever was; soonever I got upon -him, off he went by the coach as hard as he could stave; old master -hallooed and bawled--he'll kill him--he'll kill him--George how dare -you put Simon upon Whalebone? Pshey! the more he hallooed the more -Whalebone run. I pulled and pulled till I got out of sight, and turned -down the quarter stretch, and then _I did give him the timber_--Flying -Childers was nothin to him. When old master got home, there I was with -Whalebone as cool as a _curcumber_. I made sure I should get a caning, -but all he said was, D--n the fellow! I 'blieve he could ride old -Whalebone's tail off--heh! heh! heh!" - -I am sorry I cannot do more justice to the eloquence of Simon, who -excelled in all the arts of oratory. His eyes spoke as much as his -tongue; his gestures were vehement, but quite appropriate; he uttered -some words in as startling a voice as Henry Clay, and his forefinger -did as much execution as John Randolph's. As to his political opinions, -he was the most confirmed aristocrat, and thought it the birthright of -his master's family, to ride over the poor, booted and spurred. It was -his delight to tell of his meeting one day, as he swept along the road -with his smoking four in hand, a poor man on horseback, whom he -contemptuously styled a _Johnny_. He ordered the man to give the road; -but as he did not obey him as readily as he desired, he resolved to -punish him. By a dexterous wheel of his leaders, he brought the chariot -wheel in contact with the fellow's knee, and shaved every button off as -nicely as he could have shaved his beard with a razor. But enough of -Simon. I beguiled the way by drawing him out upon his favorite topics, -until we got within sight of my uncle's house, a fine old mansion, with -an avenue of cedars a mile in length. They had been kept for several -generations neatly trimmed, and he who had dared to mar their beauty -with an axe, would have been considered a felon, and met his fate -without benefit of clergy. I have lived to see them all cut down by the -ruthless hand of an overseer, who sees no beauty in any thing but a -cornstalk. However, this is wandering from my present theme. Then they -were in all their evergreen loveliness, and I hailed them as my ancient -friends, as I galloped by them, with a joyous feeling at approaching -the scene of my childhood. The folding doors soon flew wide open, and -the whole family rushed out to meet me with true-hearted old fashioned -Virginia promptitude. I must not attempt to describe a meeting which is -always better imagined than described. Let it suffice, that after the -most affectionate greeting, which extended to every servant about the -premises, I was ushered to my bed room at a late hour, with as much of -state as could be mustered about the now decaying establishment, and -soon sunk into a profound slumber, well earned by the toils and -fatigues of my journey. Early the next morning, before I left my room, -my excellent and revered uncle paid me a visit, and ordered in the -never failing julep,--_such a one as would have done honor to Chotank_. -At the same time he suggested to me that he would greatly prefer my -taking a mixture of his own, which he extolled as much as Don Quixotte -did his balsam to Sancho, or Dr. Sangrado his warm water to Gil Blas. -It was a pleasant beverage, he said, compounded of an acid and an -alkali. He had discovered by close observation, that all diseases had -their origin in acid, and that alkali of course was the grand panacea; -even poisons were acids, and he had no doubt that he should be able to -form a concrete mass, by means of beef gall and alkali, which would -resemble and equal in virtue the mad stone. If I felt the slightest -acidity of stomach, I would find myself much relieved by one of his -powders. He had written to Dr. Rush on the subject, and he shewed me a -letter from that gentleman, at which he laughed heartily, and in which -the Doctor protested he might as well attempt to batter the rock of -Gibraltar with mustard seed shot as to attack the yellow fever with -alkali. I could not help smiling at the earnestness of my dear uncle, -and assured him that I had no doubt of the virtues of his medicine, but -as I was quite well, I would rather try the anti-fogmatic; and if I -should feel indisposed, would resort to his panacea; although I -secretly resolved to have as little to do with it as Gil Blas had with -water. Having dressed myself and descended to the breakfast room, I -there met my aunt and cousin, who soon made me acquainted with the -present condition of the family. Every thing was fast declining, in -consequence of the total absorption of the mind of my uncle in his -visionary schemes; and I saw abundant evidence of the wreck of his -fortune, in the absence of a thousand comforts and elegancies which I -had been accustomed to behold. He soon joined us, and such was his -excellence of character, that we most carefully avoided casting the -smallest damp upon his ardor. Indeed, he was a man of great natural -talent and much acquired information, and was far above the ridicule -which was sometimes played off upon him by his more ignorant neighbors. -I almost begin to think that _we_ were the mistaken ones, when I look -around and see the perfection of many of his schemes, which I then -thought wholly impracticable. When old Simon thought that a carriage -could never go without _animel nater_, he certainty never dreamed of a -railroad car, nor of the steam carriages of England; and when my uncle -gravely told me that he should fill up his icehouse, and manufacture -ice as he wanted it in Summer, by letting out air highly condensed in a -tight copper vessel, upon water, I did not dream of the execution of -the plan by some French projector. I must not be thus diffuse, or I -shall weary the patience of my reader. A ride was proposed after -breakfast, and my uncle immediately invited me to try his newly -invented vehicle which could not be overset. I have constructed, said -he, a carriage with a moveable perch; by means of which the body swings -out horizontally, whenever the wheels on one side pass over any high -obstacle or ground more elevated than the other wheels rest upon; and I -shall be glad to exhibit it to a young man who is fresh from college, -and must be acquainted with the principles of mechanics. I readily -accepted his proposal, although I trembled for my neck; but declared I -had no mechanical turn whatever, and could not construct a wheelbarrow. -He was sorry to hear this, as he was in hopes I would be the depositary -of all his schemes, and bring them to perfection in case of his death, -for the benefit of his family. We soon set off on our ride; and Simon -was the driver. As I anticipated, in descending a hill where the ground -presented great inequality, the whole party were capsized, and nothing -saved our bones but the lowness of the vehicle. Never shall I forget -the chagrin of my uncle, nor the impatient contemptuous look of Simon, -as he righted the carriage; he did not dare to expostulate with his -master, but could not forbear saying that he had never met with such an -accident when he drove his four greys. "Ah, there is the cause," said -my uncle, much gratified at having an excuse for his failure; "Simon is -evidently intoxicated; old man, never presume to drive me again when -you are not perfectly sober; you will ruin the most incomparable -contrivance upon earth." Simon contented himself with a sly wink at me, -and we made the best of our way home; my uncle promising me another -trial in a short time, and I determining to avoid it, if human -ingenuity could contrive the means. The next day, as I was amusing -myself with a book, my uncle came in from his workshop, with a face -beaming with pleasure; and entering the room, proceeded in the most -careful manner to close all the doors; and producing a small crooked -stick, said to me with a mysterious air, "My boy, this stick, small and -inconsiderable as it seems to be, has made your fortune. It is worth a -million of dollars, for it has suggested to me an improvement in my -machine for producing perpetual motion, which puts the thing beyond all -doubt." Is it possible, cried I, that so small a stick can be worth so -much? "Yes, depend upon it--and I carefully closed the doors, because I -would not be overheard for the world. Some fellow might slip before me -to the patent office, and rob me of my treasure." I observed that -nobody was there who could possibly do so. "Yes, somebody might be -casually passing, and I cannot be too vigilant. I take it for granted," -he resumed, "that you are apprised of the grand desideratum in this -business. You do not imagine, with the ignorant, that I expect to make -matter last longer than God intended; the object is to get a machine to -keep time so accurately, that it may be used at sea to ascertain the -longitude with precision. Do you know that a gentleman has already -constructed a time piece, for which the Board of Longitude paid him -fifty thousand pounds; but owing to the metallic expansion, it would -not be entirely accurate." I answered that I had not so much as heard -of the Board of Longitude--and he proceeded to explain his improvement, -of which I did not comprehend a syllable. All that I felt sure of, -although I did not tell him so, was that he would not succeed in -realizing the million of dollars; and, accordingly, when admitted as a -great favor into his sanctum sanctorum, the work shop, to witness his -machine put in motion, it stood most perversely still after one -revolution, and "_some slight alteration_" remained to be made to the -end of the chapter,--until hope became extinct in every breast save -that of the projector. I could fill a volume with anecdotes of this -sort, but will add only one, as descriptive of the very great height to -which visionary notions may be carried. My uncle was a federalist, and -of course hated Buonaparte from the bottom of his soul. He told me as a -most profound secret, that he had discovered the means of making an old -man young again, by removing from him the atmospheric pressure, and -that nothing deterred him from patenting his discovery, but the fear -that Buonaparte would attach his machinery to a body of soldiers and -fly across the British Channel, and thus light down in the midst of -England, and make an easy conquest of the only barrier left upon earth -to secure the liberties of mankind. Eheu! jam satis! thought I. In this -way did my poor uncle spend his time, to the utter ruin of a fine -estate, which was surrendered to the management of that most pestilent -of the human race, an overseer,--who would not at last be at the -trouble of furnishing the old gentleman with wood enough to keep him -warm in his spacious edifice. The means he resorted to, to reprove the -overseer, were not less characteristic and laughable than many of his -singular notions. One very cold day he sent for him; the man attended, -and was ushered with much solemnity into an apartment where a single -chump was burning feebly in the chimney place, and a table was standing -in the centre of the room, covered with papers, pen and ink. My uncle -received him with unusual courtesy, and ordered the servant to set a -chair for Mr. Corncob by the _fire_,--with a peculiar emphasis on the -word. "I have sent for you, Mr. Corncob," said he, "to get you to -witness my will. You see, sir," pointing at the same time to the -fire--"you see, sir, how small a probability there is that I shall -survive the present winter. I am anxious to settle my affairs previous -to my being attacked by the pleurisy, and have therefore sent for you -to aid me in doing so." This was a severe reproof, and the man having -done as he was bid, retired with an air the most sheepish imaginable. I -fill up the picture by stating that I married my cousin, and inherited -the estate in due course of time; but a mortgage swallowed it up as -effectually as an earthquake--and poor old Simon died of a broken heart -when Regulus was knocked off at the sale of his master's property at -twenty dollars, to the man whom he hated of all others, Christopher -Corncob, Esquire. - -NUGATOR. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -LINES WRITTEN IMPROMPTU, - -On a Lady's intimating a wish to see some verses of mine in the -Messenger. - - - A Lady requests me to write - Some lines for your Messenger's muse, - And I cannot be so impolite, - By any means, as to refuse. - - So I scribble these words in my way, - In spite of Minerva, you see; - But Venus will smile on my lay, - And that is sufficient for me. - -A. B. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE PEASANT-WOMEN OF THE CANARIES. - - - Beautiful Islands, how fair you lie - Beneath the light of your cloudless sky, - And the light green waves that around you play, - Seem keeping forever a holiday;-- - Beautiful Islands, how bright you rise - 'Twixt the crystal sea and the sunny skies! - - The luscious grape, with its royal hue - Veil'd in a tint of the softest blue, - Hangs on the vine in its purple prime - As proud to garnish its own sweet clime, - And the olive sports in your soft, sweet air - Its pale green foliage--a native there. - - Music is ceaseless your trees among, - Thou Island-home of a choral throng; - Music unheard on a foreign shore;-- - Songs of the free--which they will not pour - When exile-minstrels compelled to roam-- - They're sacred songs to their sweet isle-home. - - Why, though it's light in the Olive-bower, - And fragrance breathes from the Orange-flower, - And the sea is still and the air is calm - And the early dew is a liquid balm-- - Why are the young ones forbade to roam, - Or stray from the door of their Cottage-home?[1] - - In the light that plays through the Olive-bower, - In the scent that breathes from the Orange-flower, - In the liquid balm of the early dew, - In the smooth, calm sea with its emerald hue, - Can the Peasant-mother no charm descry - To protect from the curse of the "evil eye." - - While they shall loiter the trees among, - Echoing the wild Canary's song, - The "_mal de ajo_" may on them rest - And blight the pride of the mother's breast; - Her bosom throbs with a secret dread, - Though paths of Eden her loved ones tread. - - Lo, from the Peak, with its hoary crown, - The "_el a pagador_" sails down, - And over the Cot in the moon-light floats, - Foreboding death in its awful notes-- - Who in that Cottage but pants for breath, - And hears that voice as the voice of death? - - Richly the vine with its deep green leaf, - Girdles the base of the Teneriffe,-- - Yet there, in the prime of the sunny day, - The Peasant-maiden dares not to stray, - Till the secret charm to her arm is set, - And her bosom throbs to an amulet. - - When, oh! when, shall darkness flee, - From the rosy Isles of the sunny sea? - The light of Truth with its living ray, - Pour on their dwellers a clearer day, - And _Mind_ from the chain of its darkness rise, - Like a bird set free, to its native skies? - -ELIZA. - -_Maine_. - -[Footnote 1: D. Y. Brown's Superstitions of the Canary Islands.] - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -THE HEART. - - - Man's heart! what melancholy things - Are garner'd up in thee!-- - What solace unto life it brings - That none the heart can see-- - 'Tis shut from every human eye, - Close curtain'd from the view; - The scene alike of grief or joy-- - Man's Hell and Heaven too. - - Should all mankind combine to tear - The curtain, thrown around, - Their labor would be spent in air-- - It is his hallow'd ground: - Within thy magic circle, Heart! - So potent is his spell, - No human hand hath strength to part - Or turn aside the veil. - - In sadness, there's a pleasure soft, - "Which mourners only know;" - My heart affords this treasure oft, - And there I love to go; - It is the chosen spot where I - Can live my life anew-- - My Home!--my Castle!--my Serai! - Which none must dare break through. - - In thee, my Heart! I am alone - Quite unrestrained and free, - Thou'rt hung with pictures all my own, - And drawn for none but me; - All that in secret passes there, - Forever I can hide; - Ambition--love--or dark despair-- - My jealousy--or pride. - - Yes, when ambitious--ardent--young-- - I thought the world my own, - My glowing portraits there were hung; - How have their colors flown!-- - Some are by Time, defaced so far - I look on them with pain; - But Time nor nothing else can mar - The portrait of my JANE. - - I placed her there who won my soul; - No creature saw the maid; - I gazed in bliss, without control, - On every charm displayed: - It was a sweet, impassion'd hour, - When not an eye was near - To steal into my lonely bower, - And kiss her image there. - - Earth held not on its globe the man - Who breathed that holy air; - No mortal eye but mine did scan - My folly with my fair; - Sole monarch of that silent spot, - All things gave place to me; - I did but wish--no matter what-- - Each obstacle would flee. - - And did she love? She loved me not, - But gave her hand away; - I hied me to my lonely spot-- - In anguish passed the day; - And such a desolation wide, - Spread o'er that holy place, - The stream of life itself seemed dried, - Or ebbing out apace. - - But what I did--what madly said-- - I cannot tell to any-- - Her portrait in its place hath staid, - Though years have flown so many; - Nor can each lovely lineament - So deep impress'd, depart, - Till Nature shall herself be spent, - And thou shalt break, MY HEART. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -MR. WHITE,--I send you a Parody upon Bryant's Autumn, apparently -written by some disconsolate citizen of Richmond after the adjournment -of the Legislature in time past. If the picture be faithfully drawn, it -may perhaps amuse the members of the assembly who are now in your city. - -NUGATOR. - -PARODY ON BRYANT'S AUTUMN. - - - The very dullest days are come, the dullest of the year, - When all our great Assembly men are gone away from here; - Heaped up in yonder Capitol, how many bills lie dead, - They just allowed to live awhile, to knock them on the head; - Tom, Dick, and Harry all have gone and left the silent hall, - And on the now deserted square we meet no one at all-- - Where are the fellows? the fine young fellows that were so lately - here - And vexed the drowsy ear of night with frolic and good cheer. - Alas! they all are at their homes--the glorious race of fellows, - And some perhaps are gone to forge, and some are at the bellows. - Old Time is passing where they are, but Time will pass in vain; - All _never_ can, though _some_ may be, _transported_ here again: - Old "_What d'ye call him_," he's been off a week, or maybe more, - And took a little negro up, behind and one before; - But _What's his name_ and _You know who_, they lingered to the last, - And neither had a dollar left and seemed to be downcast; - Bad luck had fallen on them as falls the plague on men, - And their phizzes were as blank as if they'd never smile again; - And then when comes December next, as surely it will come, - To call the future delegate from out his distant home, - When the sound of cracking nuts is heard in lobby and in hall, - And glimmer in the smoky light old Shockoe Hill and all, - An old friend searches for the fellows he knew the year before, - And sighs to find them on the Hill Capitoline, no more; - But then he thinks of one who her promise had belied, - The beautiful Virginia, who had fallen in her pride. - In that great house 'twas said she fell where stands her gallant - chief, - Who well might weep in marble, that her race had been so brief-- - Yet not unmeet it was he thought--oh no, ye heavenly powers! - Since she trusted those good fellows, who kept such shocking hours. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - - Audire magnos jam videor duces - Non indecoro pulvere sordidos.--_Hor. Car. L. ii. 1._ - -I stood upon the heights above Charlestown, and was silently -contrasting the then peaceful aspect of the scene with that which it -presented on the day of wrath and blood which had rendered the place so -memorable in story, as my fancy filled with images of the past and once -more crowded the hill--not indeed with knights and paladins of old, - - Sed rusticorum mascula militum - Proles, Sabellis docta ligonibus - Versare glebas, et severae - Matris ad arbitrium recisos - Portare fustes.--_Hor. Lib. iii. Car. 6._ - -As the silent hosts arose in imagination before me, I thought of the -complicated feelings which on that day must have stirred their hearts; -I thought of the breasts which kindled under the insult of invasion and -were nerved with the stern determination to play out the game upon -which was staked their all of earthly hope or fear, and it struck me -that the gallant Warren, whose voice had often made the patriot's heart -to glow and nerved the warrior's arm, might perhaps have addressed them -in sentiment something as follows: - -THE BATTLE OF BREED'S HILL. - - - Look down upon the bay, my men, - As proudly comes the foe; - Ah! send them back their shout agen, - That patriot hearts may glow. - - They come to us in pomp of war-- - The tyrant in his gold; - Our arms are few--they're stronger far, - But who will say as bold? - - No Briton ever forged the chains - Shall bind our hands at will; - The Pilgrim spirit still remains, - Out on the western hill. - - Their power may awe the coward slave, - But not the stalwart free; - Their steel may drive us to the grave, - But not from liberty. - - Our fathers spirit boils along - Impetuous through our veins; - We ask to know, where are the strong, - To bind us in their chains? - - Then let the foe look to his steel, - And count his numbers strong; - We bide him here for wo or weal, - As he shall know ere long. - - We'll dare him to the last of death-- - We've sworn it in our hearts; - We stand upon our native heath-- - We'll hold till life departs. - - Oh! what is death to slavery! - The dead at least are free: - And what is life for victory! - We strike for _liberty!_ - - This sod shall warm beneath our feet, - All reeking in our gore, - And hearts that gladly cease to beat, - The foe must trample o'er. - - Our boys are bold--their mothers stern, - Will rear them true and brave, - And many noble hearts shall burn - To free a father's grave. - - Let every tongue be hushed and still, - Each soldier hold his breath-- - They're marching up the sloping hill,-- - And now prepare for death. - -ALPHA. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -TO A LADY. - - - Oh! do not sing--my soul is wrung - When those sweet tones salute mine ear; - Thou canst not sing as _thou hast_ sung-- - As _I have heard_, I cannot hear. - Then do not breathe to me one strain - Of those I loved in years gone by; - Their melody can only throw - A darker cloud upon my sky. - - Speak not to me!--thine accents fall - By far too sadly on my ear; - They _told_ of love, and hope, and joy-- - They _tell_ of life made lone and drear. - No word speak thou! The tones are changed - That breathed to me thy young heart's vow - Of all-enduring fondness; aye! - Thou canst but speak in _kindness_ now. - - And worse than all would be the smile - Which once was mine, and only mine; - Thou wert my hope--thy love my pride-- - Thy heart my spirit's chosen shrine. - But _now_--oh! smile not on me _now_; - 'Tis insult--worse, 'tis mockery! - Estranged, and cold, and false, thou art; - Smile if thou wilt--but not on me. - - M. S. L. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -TO IANTHE. - - - Think of me when the morning wakes, - With a smile that's bright and a blush that's new; - And the wave-rocked goddess gently shakes - From her rosy wings, the gems of dew. - - Think of me, when the day-god burns - In his noon-tide blaze and his purest light; - And think of me when his chariot turns - To the sombre shades of silent night. - - Think of me, when the evening's store - Of brilliance, fades on the wondering eye; - And think of me, when the flowers pour - Their incense to the star-lit sky. - - Think of me when the evening star, - Through the deep blue sky shall dart his beams; - And think of me when the mind, afar, - Shall chase the forms of its joyous dreams. - - Think of me in the hour of mirth-- - Think of me in the hour of prayer-- - Aye! think amidst each scene of earth, - You feel my spirit is mingling there. - - For morning's beam--nor evening's light-- - Nor days of woe--nor hours of glee-- - Nor e'en religion's holiest rite, - Can steal or force my thoughts from thee. - -FERGUS. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -SONNET. - -FROM THE PORTUGUES OF CAMOENS. - -BY R. H. WILDE, _Of Georgia_. - - Sonnet xliii. of the edition of 1779-1780. - - "O cysne quando sente ser chegada," &c. - - - They say the Swan, though mute his whole life long, - Pours forth sweet melody when life is flying, - Making the desert plaintive with his song, - Wondrous and sad, and sweetest still while dying; - Is it for life and pleasure past he's sighing, - Grieving to lose what none can e'er prolong? - Oh, no! he hails its close, on death relying - As an escape from violence and wrong: - And thus, dear lady! I at length perceiving, - The fatal end of my unhappy madness, - In thy oft broken faith no more believing, - Welcome despair's sole comforter with gladness, - And mourning one so fair is so deceiving, - Breathe out my soul in notes of love and sadness. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -EPIGRAMME FRANCAISE. - - - Lit de mes plaisirs; lit de mes pleurs; - Lit on je nais; lit on je mours; - Tu nous fais voir combien procheins - Sort nos plaisirs de nos chagrins. - -TRANSLATION. - - Couch of Sorrow; Couch of Joy; - Of Life's first breath, and Death's last sigh; - Thou makest us see what neighbors near - Our pleasures and our sorrows are. - -The above was the execution of a task proposed by a French gentleman, -who, boasting the piquant terseness of his language, said that the -original could not be rendered into English. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -TRUE CONSOLATION. - - - He had wept o'er the honored, in age who die; - O'er the loved,--in beauty's bloom; - O'er the blighted buds of infancy: - Till all earth was to him a Tomb. - - And sorrow had drunk his youthful blood, - And hastened the work of Time; - And the cankering tooth of ingratitude - Had withered his manhood's prime. - - But he turned from earth, and he looked to the sky, - His sorrow by faith beguiling; - Where Mercy sits enthroned on high, - With his loved ones round her smiling. - - He looked to Eternity's bright shore, - From the wreck of perished years; - And Mercy's voice, through the storm's wild roar, - Came down to sooth his fears. - - That gentle voice has charmed away - The frenzy from his brain; - And his withered heart, in her eye's mild ray, - May bud and bloom again; - - And her smile has chased the gloom from his brow, - So late by clouds o'ercast; - And his cheek is bright with the sun-set glow, - That tells that the Storm is past. - - And his heart returns to the world again, - But forgets not the world above; - For Heaven sends love to sooth earthly pain, - But Heaven's whole bliss is Love. - - - - - For the Southern Literary Messenger. - -SONNET. - -BY R. H. WILDE, _Of Georgia_. - - - Thou hast thy faults VIRGINIA!--yet I own - I love thee still, although no son of thine; - For I have climb'd thy mountains, not alone-- - And made the wonders of thy vallies mine, - Finding from morning's dawn 'till day's decline - Some marvel yet unmarked--some peak whose throne - Was loftier; girt with mist, and crown'd with pine, - Some deep and rugged glen with copse o'ergrown, - The birth of some sweet valley, or the line - Traced by some silver stream that murmured lone; - Or the dark cave where hidden crystals shine, - Or the wild arch across the blue sky thrown;[1] - Or else those traits of nature, more divine - That in some favored child of thine had shone. - -[Footnote 1: The Natural Bridge.] - - - - -[The following letter, written by a distinguished President of the -oldest College in Virginia, has been already or rather formerly before -the public;--but no apology is necessary for transferring it to the -columns of the "Messenger." Its elegant style and still more excellent -sentiments, will always command admiration,--and we doubt whether we -could render a more essential service to society than to republish it -annually, in order that every young married lady (at least within the -range of our subscription) should receive the benefit of its precepts. -Certain we are, that more wholesome advice conveyed in more agreeable -language, we have seldom seen contained in the same space. It is of -itself a volume of instruction, and we do most cheerfully recommend it -to the softer sex, whether married or single; for the married may -profit by it even after years of conjugal tranquillity--and the single -may at least _expect_ to profit. It is more especially applicable, -however, to her who has just sworn her vows on the altar of -hymen--whose life of bliss and peace, or misery and discord, may depend -upon the first six or twelve months of "prudent, amiable, uniform -conduct." - -Let it not be understood, however, that we are believers in the -doctrine, that the pleasures of the matrimonial voyage are wholly -dependant upon the conduct of the lady. She is but the second in -command, and still greater responsibilities rest upon him who stands at -the helm and guides the frail bark of human happiness. We should indeed -be thankful if some of our highly gifted and experienced friends would -prepare a _counterpart_ to this valuable letter of advice, designed -more particularly for the edification of such of us lords of creation -as have either contracted or are likely to contract the nuptial bond. -As to the old bachelors they are an incorrigible race, upon whom such -advice would be wasted, and therefore they need not trouble themselves -to read it.] - -ADVICE FROM A FATHER TO HIS ONLY DAUGHTER. - -WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER HER MARRIAGE. - - -_My dear Daughter_,--You have just entered into that state which is -replete with happiness or misery. The issue depends upon that prudent, -amiable, uniform conduct, which wisdom and virtue so strongly -recommend, on the one hand, or on that imprudence which a want of -reflection or passion may prompt, on the other. - -You are allied to a man of honor, of talents, and of an open, generous -disposition. You have, therefore, in your power, all the essential -ingredients of domestic happiness; it cannot be marred, if you now -reflect upon that system of conduct which you ought invariably to -pursue--if you now see clearly, the path from which you will resolve -never to deviate. Our conduct is often the result of whim or caprice, -often such as will give us many a pang, unless we see beforehand, what -is always the most praiseworthy, and the most essential to happiness. - -The first maxim which you should impress deeply upon your mind, is, -never to attempt to control your husband by opposition, by displeasure, -or any other mark of anger. A man of sense, of prudence, of warm -feelings, cannot, and will not, bear an opposition of any kind, which -is attended with an angry look or expression. The current of his -affections is suddenly stopped; his attachment is weakened; he begins -to feel a mortification the most pungent; he is belittled even in his -own eyes; and be assured, the wife who once excites those sentiments in -the breast of a husband, will never regain the high ground which she -might and ought to have retained. When he marries her, if he be a good -man, he expects from her smiles, not frowns; he expects to find in her -one who is not to control him--not to take from him the freedom of -acting as his own judgment shall direct, but one who will place such -confidence in him, as to believe that his prudence is his best guide. -Little things, what in reality are mere trifles in themselves, often -produce bickerings, and even quarrels. Never permit them to be a -subject of dispute; yield them with pleasure, with a smile of -affection. Be assured that one difference outweighs them all a -thousand, or ten thousand times. A difference with your husband ought -to be considered as the greatest calamity--as one that is to be most -studiously guarded against; it is a demon which must never be permitted -to enter a habitation where all should be peace, unimpaired confidence, -and heartfelt affection. Besides, what can a woman gain by her -opposition or her differences? Nothing. But she loses every thing; she -loses her husband's respect for her virtues, she loses his love, and -with that, all prospect of future happiness. She creates her own -misery, and then utters idle and silly complaints, but utters them in -vain. The love of a husband can be retained only by the high opinion -which he entertains of his wife's goodness of heart, of her amiable -disposition, of the sweetness of her temper, of her prudence, and of -her devotion to him. Let nothing upon any occasion, ever lessen that -opinion. On the contrary, it should augment every day: he should have -much more reason to admire her for those excellent qualities, which -will cast a lustre over a virtuous woman, when her personal attractions -are no more. - -Has your husband staid out longer than you expected? When he returns, -receive him as the partner of your heart. Has he disappointed you in -something you expected, whether of ornament, or furniture, or of any -conveniency? Never evince discontent; receive his apology with -cheerfulness. Does he, when you are housekeeper, invite company without -informing you of it, or bring home with him a friend? Whatever may be -your repast, however scanty it may be, however impossible it may be to -add to it, receive them with a pleasing countenance, adorn your table -with cheerfulness, give to your husband and to your company a hearty -welcome; it will more than compensate for every other deficiency; it -will evince love for your husband, good sense in yourself, and that -politeness of manners, which acts as the most powerful charm! It will -give to the plainest fare a zest superior to all that luxury can boast. -Never be discontented on any occasion of this nature. - -In the next place, as your husband's success in his profession will -depend upon his popularity, and as the manners of a wife have no little -influence in extending or lessening the respect and esteem of others -for her husband, you should take care to be affable and polite to the -poorest as well as to the richest. A reserved haughtiness is a sure -indication of a weak mind and an unfeeling heart. - -With respect to your servants, teach them to respect and love you, -while you expect from them a reasonable discharge of their respective -duties. Never tease yourself, or them, by scolding; it has no other -effect than to render them discontented and impertinent. Admonish them -with a calm firmness. - -Cultivate your mind by the perusal of those books which instruct while -they amuse. Do not devote much of your time to novels; there are a few -which may be useful in improving and in giving a higher tone to our -moral sensibility; but they tend to vitiate the taste, and to produce a -disrelish for substantial intellectual food. Most plays are of the same -cast; they are not friendly to the delicacy which is one of the -ornaments of the female character. HISTORY, GEOGRAPHY, POETRY, MORAL -ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELS, SERMONS, and other well written religious -productions, will not fail to enlarge your understanding, to render you -a more agreeable companion, and to exalt your virtue. A woman devoid of -rational ideas of religion, has no security for her virtue; it is -sacrificed to her passions, whose voice, not that of GOD, is her only -governing principle. Besides, in those hours of calamity to which -families must be exposed, where will she find support, if it be not in -her just reflections upon that all ruling Providence which governs the -Universe, whether animate or inanimate. - -Mutual politeness between the most intimate friends, is essential to -that harmony, which should never be once broken or interrupted. How -important then is it between man and wife!--The more warm the -attachment, the less will either party bear to be slighted, or treated -with the smallest degree of rudeness or inattention. This politeness, -then, if it be not in itself a virtue, is at least the means of giving -to real goodness a new lustre; it is the means of preventing -discontent, and even quarrels; it is the oil of intercourse, it removes -asperities, and gives to every thing a smooth, an even, and a pleasing -movement. - -I will only add, that matrimonial happiness does not depend upon -wealth; no, it is not to be found in wealth; but in minds properly -tempered and united to our respective situations. Competency is -necessary; all beyond that point, is ideal. Do not suppose, however, -that I would not advise your husband to augment his property by all -honest and commendable means. I would wish to see him actively engaged -in such a pursuit, because engagement, a sedulous employment, in -obtaining some laudable end, is essential to happiness. In the -attainment of a fortune, by honorable means, and particularly by -professional exertion, a man derives particular satisfaction, in self -applause, as well as from the increasing estimation in which he is held -by those around him. - -In the management of your domestic concerns, let prudence and wise -economy prevail. Let neatness, order and judgment be seen in all your -different departments. Unite liberality with a just frugality; always -reserve something for the hand of charity; and never let your door be -closed to the voice of suffering humanity. Your servants, in -particular, will have the strongest claim upon your charity;--let them -be well fed, well clothed, nursed in sickness, and never let them be -unjustly treated. - - - - -ORIGINAL LITERARY NOTICES. - - -VATHEK--An Oriental Tale, by Mr. Beckford, author of Italy, &c. -Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard. 1834. - -The publishers of this _fashionable_ romance, by way of smoothing its -path to general reception and favor, have attached to the title page -various opinions expressed by English journalists,--to wit: The -_Quarterly Review_ says, "a very remarkable performance. It continues -in possession of all the celebrity it once commanded." The "_Printing -Machine_" (a paper we presume of that name) says, "As an Eastern story, -we know nothing produced by an European imagination that can stand a -comparison with this work." The _Morning Post_ exclaims, "The finest -Oriental tale extant!" and the "_Gentleman's Magazine_," pronounces it -"a creation of genius that would immortalize its author at any time, -and under any taste." These are very imposing authorities, and -superadded to them all, it is said that Mr. Beckford is now living, is -one of the richest men in England, and occupies so high a rank in -social life, that royalty itself has been known to court his society. -Nor is this all. Lord Byron pronounced "Vathek" to be a most surpassing -production--far superior as an Eastern tale, to the "Rassalais" of -Johnson,--and whatever has been said by Lord Byron, especially in -matters of taste, will pass with some persons as incontrovertible -orthodoxy. We have not examined particularly to ascertain what our own -critics have said on the subject; but we believe that some of them at -least, have echoed the plaudits of the British periodicals. Be this as -it may, we happen to have an honest opinion of our own, and we must -say, in our poor judgment, that a more impure, disgusting, and -execrable production, than this same "Vathek," never issued from the -English or American press. That the author was a youth of extraordinary -genius, is acknowledged; (he wrote before twenty years of age)--but it -was genius totally perverted and poisoned at its source. The work could -have been written by no one whose heart was not polluted at its very -core. Obscene and blasphemous in the highest degree, its shocking -pictures are in no wise redeemed by the beauty and simplicity of -Oriental fiction. We should pronounce it, without knowing any thing of -Mr. Beckford's character, to be the production of a sensualist and an -infidel--one who could riot in the most abhorred and depraved -conceptions--and whose prolific fancy preferred as its repast all that -was diabolical and monstrous, rather than what was beautiful and good. -We shall not even attempt a detailed account of this volume--but when -such works are recommended to public favor, we think it is time that -criticism should brandish its rod, and that the genius of morality--if -there be such a spirit in our land--should frown down the effort. - - -LEISURE HOURS, or the American Popular Library; conducted by an -Association of Gentlemen. Boston: _John Allen & Co._ 1835. - -Here is another contribution to the constantly increasing store of -popular literature. If the present generation does not surpass all its -predecessors in the acquisition of knowledge in its various forms, it -will not be from any deficiency of intellectual food. In England, the -Family Library, the Libraries of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge, the -Penny Magazine, and innumerable other productions of the same class, -are employed to diffuse through every portion of society, sound and -valuable instruction; and many of these excellent publications are not -only reprinted in the United States, but the time is not distant when -we may justly boast of others of entirely domestic origin. The work -before us seems to have been commenced under favorable auspices, and -with laudable objects. The editors in their advertisement, which we -quote at length for the benefit of our readers, "propose to publish, at -convenient intervals, a series of volumes of standard merit, calculated -to interest and instruct every class of the community. Although they -have chosen for the title of the series, the name of the American -Popular Library, it is not to be understood that it is to consist -wholly, or even principally, of American works. Nor, on the other hand, -will any work, however popular, be introduced into the series, unless, -in the opinion of the editors, it shall possess such a character as -will secure to it a continued reputation, after it shall have ceased to -interest by its novelty. In their selections they do not propose to be -limited to any one class of works, but to include such books in each -department, as shall appear to them to be most deserving of a place in -the library of an enlightened christian family. - -"It seems to them important, that the attention of our reading -community should be turned to works of more _permanent_ value, than -belongs to most of the periodical literature of the day, or at least -that it should not be confined exclusively to works of only a temporary -interest. The spirit of the times appears also to demand, that the -separation, which has too often been made between elegant literature -and pure christianity, should cease to exist, and that a christian -literature should take the place of that, which has, in many cases, -begun and ended in infidelity. It is the design of the editors of this -publication to promote, so far as shall be in their power, the union of -polite literature, sound learning and christian morals. Beyond this -they do not suppose it necessary that they should pledge themselves to -the public. A sufficient security for their patrons seems to be -provided, in leaving it optional with the purchaser to take only such -part of the series as he may choose. - -"It is intended that a volume of nearly uniform size shall be issued -every two or three months, or in such a manner that four or five -volumes shall appear annually." - -As a specimen of the work, we select at random the following story of - -MY TWO AUNTS. - -Philosophers tell us that we know nothing but from its opposite; then I -certainly know my two aunts very perfectly, for greater opposites were -never made since the formation of light and darkness; but they were -both good creatures--so are light and darkness both good things in -their place. My two aunts, however, were not so appropriately to be -compared to light and darkness as to crumb and crust--the crumb and -crust of a new loaf; the crumb of which is marvellously soft, and the -crust of which is exceedingly crisp, dry and snappish. The one was my -father's sister, and the other was my mother's; and very curiously it -happened that they were both named Bridget. To distinguish between -them, we young folks used to call the quiet and easy one aunt Bridget, -and the bustling, worrying one, aunt Fidget. You never, in the whole -course of your life, saw such a quiet, easy, comfortable creature as -aunt Bridget--she was not immoderately large, but prodigiously fat. Her -weight did not exceed twenty stone, or two-and-twenty at the -utmost--but she might be called prodigiously fat, because she was all -fat; I don't think there was an ounce of lean in her whole composition. -She was so imperturbably good natured, that I really do not believe -that she was ever in a passion in the whole course of her life. I have -no doubt that she had her troubles: we all have troubles, more or less; -but aunt Bridget did not like to trouble herself to complain. The -greatest trouble that she endured, was the alternation of day and -night: it was a trouble to her to go up stairs to bed, and it was a -trouble to her to come down stairs to breakfast; but, when she was once -in bed, she could sleep ten hours without dreaming; and when she was -once up, and seated in her comfortable arm-chair, by the fireside, with -her knitting apparatus in order, and a nice, fat, flat, comfortable -quarto volume on a small table at her side, the leaves of which volume -she could turn over with her knitting needle, she was happy for the -day: the grief of getting up was forgotten, and the trouble of getting -to bed was not anticipated. Knowing her aversion to moving, I was once -saucy enough to recommend her to make two days into one, that she might -not have the trouble of going up and down stairs so often. Any body but -aunt Bridget would have boxed my ears for my impertinence, and would, -in so doing, have served me rightly; but she, good creature, took it -all in good part, and said, "Yes, my dear, it would save trouble, but I -am afraid it would not be good for my health--I should not have -exercise enough." Aunt Bridget loved quiet, and she lived in the -quietest place in the world. There is not a spot in the deserts of -Arabia, or in the Frozen Ocean, to be for a moment compared for -quietness with Hans-place-- - - "The very houses seem asleep;" - -and when the bawlers of milk, mackerel, dabs, and flounders, enter the -placid precincts of that place, they scream with a subdued violence, -like the hautboy played with a piece of cotton in the bell. You might -almost fancy that oval of building to be some mysterious egg, on which -the genius of silence had sat brooding ever since the creation of the -world, or even before Chaos had combed its head and washed its face. -There is in that place a silence that may be heard, a delicious -stillness which the ear drinks in as greedily as the late Mr. Dando -used to gulp oysters. It is said that, when the inhabitants are all -asleep, they can hear one another snore. Here dwelt my aunt -Bridget--kindest of the kind, and quietest of the quiet. But good -nature is terribly imposed upon in this wicked world of ours; and so it -was with aunt Bridget. Her poulterer, I am sure, used to charge her at -least ten per cent. more than any of the rest of his customers, because -she never found fault. She was particularly fond of ducks, very likely -from a sympathy with their quiet style of locomotion; but she disliked -haggling about the price, and she abhorred the trouble of choosing -them; so she left it to the man's conscience to send what he pleased, -and to charge what he pleased. I declare that I have seen upon her -table such withered, wizened, toad-like villains of half-starved ducks, -that they looked as if they had died of the whooping-cough. And if ever -I happened to say any thing approaching to reproach of the poulterer, -aunt would always make the same reply,--"I don't like to be always -finding fault." It was the same with her wine as it was with her -poultry: she used to fancy that she had Port and Sherry; but she never -had any thing better than Pontac and Cape Madeira. There was one luxury -of female life which my aunt never enjoyed--she never had the pleasure -of scolding the maids. She once made the attempt, but it did not -succeed. She had a splendid set of Sunday crockery, done in blue and -gold; and, by the carelessness of one of her maids, the whole service -was smashed at one fell swoop. "Now, that is too bad," said my aunt; "I -really will tell her of it." So I was in hopes of seeing aunt Bridget -in a passion, which would have been as rare a sight as an American aloe -in blossom. She rang the bell with most heroic vigor, and with an -expression of almost a determination to say something very severe to -Betty, when she should make her appearance. Indeed, if the bell-pull -had been Betty, she might have heard half the first sentence of a -terrible scolding; but before Betty could answer the summons of the -bell, my aunt was as cool as a turbot at a tavern dinner. "Betty," said -she, "are they all broke?" "Yes, ma'am," said Betty. "How came you to -break them?" said my aunt. "They slipped off the tray, ma'am," replied -Betty. "Well, then, be more careful another time," said my aunt. "Yes, -ma'am," said Betty. - -Next morning, another set was ordered. This was not the first, second, -or third time that my aunt's crockery had come to an untimely end. My -aunt's maids had a rare place in her service. They had high life below -stairs in perfection; people used to wonder that she did not see how -she was imposed upon: bless her old heart! she never liked to see what -she did not like to see--and so long as she could be quiet she was -happy. She was a living emblem of the Pacific Ocean. - -But my aunt Fidget was quite another thing. She only resembled my aunt -Bridget in one particular; that is, she had not an ounce of lean about -her; but then she had no fat neither--she was all skin and bone; I -cannot say for a certainty, but I really believe, that she had no -marrow in her bones: she was as light as a feather, as dry as a stick, -and, had it not been for her pattens, she must have been blown away in -windy weather. As for quiet, she knew not the meaning of the word: she -was flying about from morning till night, like a fagot in fits, and -finding fault with every body and every thing. Her tongue and her toes -had no sinecures. Had she weighed as many pounds as my aunt Bridget -weighed stones, she would have worn out half-a-dozen pair of shoes in a -week. I don't believe that aunt Bridget ever saw the inside of her -kitchen, or that she knew exactly where it was; but aunt Fidget was in -all parts of the house at once--she saw every thing, heard every thing, -remembered every thing, and scolded about every thing. She was not to -be imposed upon, either by servants or trades-people. She kept a sharp -look out upon them all. She knew when and where to go to market. Keen -was her eye for the turn of the scale, and she took pretty good care -that the butcher should not dab his mutton chops too hastily in the -scale, making momentum tell for weight. I cannot think what she wanted -with meat, for she looked as if she ate nothing but raspings, and drank -nothing but vinegar. Her love of justice in the matter of purchasing -was so great, that when her fishmonger sent her home a pennyworth of -sprats, she sent one back to be changed because it had but one eye. - -She had such a strict inventory of all her goods and chattels, that, if -any one plundered her of a pin, she was sure to find it out. She would -miss a pea out of a peck; and she once kept her establishment up half -the night to hunt for a bit of cheese that was missing--it was at last -found in the mouse-trap. "You extravagant minx," said she to the maid, -"here is cheese enough to bait three mouse-traps;" and she nearly had -her fingers snapped off in her haste to rescue the cheese from its -prison. I used not to dine with my aunt Fidget so often as with my aunt -Bridget, for my aunt Fidget worried my very life out with the history -of every article that was brought to table. She made me undergo the -narration of all that she had said, and all that the butcher or -poulterer had said, concerning the purchase of the provision; and she -used always to tell me what was the price of mutton when her mother was -a girl--two pence a pound for the common pieces, and twopence-halfpenny -for the prime pieces. Moreover, she always entertained me with an -account of all her troubles, and with the sins and iniquities of her -abominable servants, whom she generally changed once a month. Indeed, -had I been inclined to indulge her with more of my company, I could not -always manage to find her residence; for she was moving about from -place to place, so that it was like playing a game of hunt the slipper -to endeavor to find her. She once actually threatened to leave London -altogether, if she could not find some more agreeable residence than -hitherto it had been her lot to meet with. But there was one evil in my -aunt Fidget's behavior, which disturbed me more than any thing else; -she was always expecting that I should join her in abusing my placid -aunt Bridget. Aunt Bridget's style of house-keeping was not, perhaps, -quite the pink of perfection, but it was not for me to find fault with -it; and if she did sit still all day, she never found fault with those -who did not; she never said any thing evil of any of her neighbors. -Aunt Fidget might be flying about all day like a witch upon a -broomstick; but aunt Bridget made no remarks on it; she let her fly. -The very sight of aunt Fidget was enough to put one out of breath--she -whisked about from place to place at such a rapid rate, always talking -at the rate of nineteen to the dozen. We boys used to say of her that -she never sat long enough in a chair to warm the cover. But she is -gone--_requiescat in pace_;[1] and that is more than ever she did in -her life-time. - -[Footnote 1: May she rest in peace.] - - - - -EDITORIAL REMARKS. - - -In presenting the fourth number of the "Messenger" to the public, we -are gratified in announcing the continued support of our friends and -correspondents, and the increasing ardor with which the work is -patronized. Far more to the great cause of southern literature, than to -our own humble efforts, is it owing that we are encouraged from a -variety of quarters to persevere in our labors; and our generous well -wishers may rely, that we are not disposed to look back or falter in -our course,--borne as we are upon the "full tide of successful -experiment." Let but our friends continue to take an interest in our -cause, and this work will soon be placed beyond contingent evils. It -will become the arena, where southern minds especially, may meet in -honorable collision; and when we say _southern_ minds, let us not be -understood as slighting or undervaluing the rich and valuable aid which -we hope to receive from our northern and eastern brethren. Far from it. -We desire to emulate their own noble efforts in behalf of American -literature, and to stir up our more languid countrymen, to imitate -their industry, and to hope for their success. - -The rights and duties of the editorial chair, especially in the infancy -of a literary work, are extremely delicate. Taste is so subtle, -variable and uncertain a quality, that, for an editor to establish his -own, as a fixed and immutable standard--would seem invidious, if not -absolutely odious. On the other hand, some judgment and discrimination -must be exercised, or the consequences might be still more injurious. -The indiscriminate admission of _all_ pretenders, would be disparaging -and unjust to those whose claims are unquestionable. The true view of -the subject we take to be this--not to exclude all contributions which -do not display a high degree of merit--especially if their authors are -young and evince a desire to excel. One object of a work like the -"Messenger," is to _improve_ the exercise of thought and the habit of -composition. A literary novice, when he sees himself in print, and -contrasts his productions with those of more mature minds and more -practised hands, will rouse himself to greater effort. It may encourage -and stimulate him to more decided and brilliant exertion. Fine writing -is not the acquisition of a day or a year; it requires, in order to the -full attainment of success,--long, continued and unwearied application. - -We make these remarks, because we are not entirely satisfied ourselves, -with _all_ the articles either in prose or verse, admitted into the -present number. We did not think, however, that any of them deserved -exclusion. In some of those which are published, may be perceived -undoubted indications of genius,--and in the rest, evidences of high -capacity to excel. - -In noticing some of the pieces, we hope it will not be supposed that we -pass sentence of inferiority upon such as we omit to mention. Our -object is to ask the particular attention of the reader to those which -have afforded us peculiar pleasure. - -It is with unalloyed satisfaction, that we continue the very able and -interesting account of "_Tripoli and the Barbary States_." The author -has thrown around authentic narrative, all the charms of romance; and -we perfectly agree with a contemporary editor in this city, that he has -reached in a very high degree the interest and dignity of the true -historic style. - -The description of _Howard's Bottom_, under the head of "_Western -Scenery_," will be at once recognized as the production of a practised -and polished pen. - -If the "_Hints to Students of Geology_," by an able proficient in the -science, shall serve to stimulate the languor which prevails in -Virginia on that subject, we shall be more than gratified. - -In the "_March of Intellect_," by V, there is a singular mixture of the -serious and comic--of truth and caricature--which may not perhaps be -agreeable to all readers. All, however, will concede to the author, -vigor and fertility of mind,--with much of the "_copia verborum_" in -style. We should have taken the liberty to apply the pruning knife to -the luxuriant foliage of the "_Seasons_," from the same pen,--had we -not feared doing some injury to the fruit. The author has only to -cultivate his fine talents, in order to attain a high rank in the art -of composition. - -There is a good deal of humor in the description of a Virginia "_Fourth -of July_,"--and we hope the writer will repeat his effort. In the local -and distinctive traits of our national manners, there is a wide field -for the pencil. - -With the "_Essay on Luxury_," by B. B. B. H. we have taken some -liberties, and crave his indulgence if we have been too free. Sometimes -the finest thoughts and strongest reasoning, suffer injustice by -inattention to style. - -The author of "_Eloquence_" has our earnest exhortations to press on in -the path which leads to renown. If we mistake not, he is actuated by -the noble ambition to acquire distinction. - -The "_Valedictory in July 1829_," now for the first time published, -will command attention for the excellence of its precepts and doctrines -upon the all important subject of female education. No one could be -better qualified than the author, to enforce serious truths in a -graceful and agreeable manner. - -We beg the reader's particular attention to the original tale of -"_Uncle Simon and the Mechanician_." The author's admirable sketches -derive additional value from the fact that they are not the mere -creations of fancy, but exact copies from nature. - -Some of our readers may perhaps complain, that more than a due -proportion of the present number is devoted to the Muses. It may be so; -but our apology is, that some of the pieces have been so long on hand, -that to delay their publication would almost amount to exclusion. If -all the poetry is not of equal quality, there is still enough which is -excellent; enough to demonstrate beyond all question, that if our Bards -would only take courage, and rise superior to the fear of foreign -rivalry, the highest success would crown their efforts. Among the -pieces which have afforded us more than ordinary pleasure, we may be -allowed to enumerate the "_Peasant-Women of the Canaries_," "_The -Heart_," and that which we have taken the liberty to designate by the -title of "_True Consolation_." The oftener that we read these, the more -we like them; but we shall restrain the ardor of our own feelings, lest -our readers should suppose we indulge the presumptuous thought of -influencing their judgments. - -It is with real pleasure that we insert two productions from the pen of -the _Hon. R. H. Wilde_. These would be enough of themselves to disprove -the charge of plagiarism preferred against that gentleman during the -Georgia election, in respect to the charming lines which appeared in -our first number, and which we stated were generally ascribed to him. -It is to us passing strange, that the sacred repose of the republic of -letters, should be disturbed by the agitations and conflicts of party -politics. Notwithstanding that the authorship of "_My Life is like the -Summer Rose_," has been confidently claimed by some for O'Kelly, an -Irish poet,--and by others for an ancient Greek bard named Alceus, we -still adhere to the opinion that that beautiful effusion is the bona -fide and genuine offspring of Mr. Wilde's muse. Upon this subject, -however, we shall reserve a more particular expression of our -sentiments for a future number. - -We have already expressed our opinion of the bards of Mobile and -Tuscaloosa. May we not expect a continuance of their favors? - -The humorous "_Parody on Bryant's Autumn_," or rather on his piece -called the "_Death of the Flowers_," will strike every one acquainted -with the productions of the New York bard, as an admirable imitation of -his style. It is the more excellent, as Bryant's sombre imagery has -been made to assume a light and sportive dress. - -We could say much in commendation of many of our other poetical -contributors, if it were not somewhat improper to invade too much the -province of our readers. We hope, therefore, that they will not for a -moment believe that we slight or undervalue their favors. - - - - -EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF CORRESPONDENTS. - - -FROM AN EMINENT LITERARY GENTLEMAN, NOW A RESIDENT OF LOUISIANA. - -"I am domiciliated in the south for the residue of my days; and so far -as residence, pursuit, and the home of those most dear to me may be -supposed to impress local preferences, I am and long have been a -southern man. But we all love our dear common country better than all -that belongs to district and climate; and so loving my country, and so -being proud of its best fame and honor, its literary advancement, I was -decidedly pleased with your periodical. The writing, the printing, _the -revision of the proofs_, the _ensemble_, are all unquestionably -creditable to you. I am too old and too much hackneyed in the style of -periodicals to compliment. The Richmond Messenger gives respectable -promise. Periodicals have to me a kind of physiognomy. Some look sickly -and death-doomed from their birth. Yours give signs of a vigorous and -healthful vitality. May it live long and prosper." - - -FROM A DISTINGUISHED LITERARY LADY IN NEW YORK. - -"I owe you a very humble apology for not having earlier acknowledged -your first communication and the receipt of the first number of your -work, which you were so kind as to send me. I was absent on a very long -journey when they reached my residence, and then my reply fell into the -ever open grave of deferred duties. I have since been gratified to hear -from various sources that your enterprise was succeeding. It could -hardly be otherwise, if you could once rouse the minds in your -beautiful state, where inspiring subjects every where abound. Your -request is very flattering to me, and I should most willingly comply -with it, but that I have at present more work on my hands than I have -energy to accomplish. At some future time, should you continue to -desire my services, it will give me pleasure to render them." - - -FROM EASTERN VIRGINIA. - -[A correspondent from whom we have received many favors, indulges in -the following sportive strain. So far from being willing that he should -"_sail before the mast_," we would rather see him take rank as OUR POST -CAPTAIN.] - -"I sincerely rejoice in the success thus far of your undertaking, and -trust you have now been sustained long enough to give time to abler men -to come to your assistance. I wish you a good crew and a pleasant -voyage for your little frigate. I shall still occasionally sail with -you before the mast as a common sailor, until somebody gives me the -cat-o'-nine-tails, and then perhaps I shall stay at home and mind my -business, which is _clodhopping_, and which is perhaps more suitable -than the occupation I have lately been following." - - -"To read your paper is the _only one thing needful_ to enlarge its -circulation, to attract the attention, and to gain the affections of -the reading part of the community. It is a work peculiarly interesting -to southern literature, as its appeals are direct to the love of -letters, to the generous pride, and to the chivalric patriotism of -southerners. The monotonous sound of politics cannot but be -disgusting." - - - - -ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS TO CONTRIBUTORS, CORRESPONDENTS, &c. - - -We tender our thanks to the editor of the _Farmer's Register_ for -setting us right in respect to Mr. Peter A. Browne's letter on the -mineral resources of Virginia. The republication of that letter in the -Register had escaped our recollection entirely. We shall be much -gratified in having the able co-operation of Mr. Ruffin upon a subject -we have much at heart, to wit: a geological and mineralogical survey of -the state. When the legislature shall have settled the exact limits of -federal power, and the precise boundaries of state rights--if indeed -these things can be done in our time--or when we shall have laid the -broad and permanent foundation of a system of internal improvement,--we -hope then at least to see Virginia treading in the paths of other -states, and turning her attention to her own vast, and in some -respects, hidden resources. - -We owe a similar acknowledgement to Mr. Fairfield, editor of the North -American Magazine, who informs us that Mr. Browne's letter also -appeared in one of his numbers, but which in like manner escaped our -notice. - -The "_Remarks Delivered to the Law Class at William and Mary_," upon a -subject deeply interesting to the south, shall appear in our next -number. - -The "_Letters from a Sister_," we have only had opportunity to glance -at. We have no doubt that they will furnish a rich store for the -entertainment of our readers. - -The _Selections from the Manuscripts of Mrs. Wood_, are reluctantly but -unavoidably excluded from the present number, but shall certainly -appear in our next. - -We have on hand a variety of poetical contributions, from which we -shall cull liberally for our pages. As some literary appetites however, -are cloyed by too many dainties, we must be somewhat particular in the -arrangement of our table. - - - - -The _Publisher_ offers an apology to his patrons for the delay in the -publication of the present number. The close of the year being, by -common consent, a season of holiday recreation rather than of business, -all just allowances will be made. He promises (always excepting -unforeseen accidents and contingencies) to be more punctual hereafter. -It is his desire to issue the Messenger, if possible, regularly between -the 20th and last day of each month. Contributors ought to be governed -accordingly. He tenders the compliments of the season to his patrons. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. -I., No. 4, December, 1834, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, DEC. 1834 *** - -***** This file should be named 53753-8.txt or 53753-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/5/53753/ - -Produced by Ron Swanson -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/53753-8.zip b/old/53753-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 342eca3..0000000 --- a/old/53753-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53753-h.zip b/old/53753-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f0ec83a..0000000 --- a/old/53753-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53753-h/53753-h.htm b/old/53753-h/53753-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 931918e..0000000 --- a/old/53753-h/53753-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8052 +0,0 @@ - -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> - -<html> -<head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> - <title>The Project Gutenberg e-Book of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 4, December 1834, by Various</title> - <style type="text/css"> - <!-- - body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} - h1 {text-align:center} - h2 {text-align:center} - h3 {text-align:center} - h4 {text-align:center} - h5 {text-align:center} --> - </style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., -No. 4, December, 1834, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 4, December, 1834 - -Author: Various - -Editor: James E. Heath - -Release Date: December 17, 2016 [EBook #53753] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, DEC. 1834 *** - - - - -Produced by Ron Swanson - - - - - -</pre> - -<center>THE</center> -<h1>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER:</h1> -<center>DEVOTED TO</center> -<h2>EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE</h2> -<center>AND</center> -<h3>THE FINE ARTS.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem1"> - <tr><td><small>Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. </small></td></tr> - <tr><td align="right"><small><i>Crebillon's Electre</i>.</small></td></tr> - <tr><td><small> </small></td></tr> - <tr><td><small>As <i>we</i> will, and not as the winds will.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<center><small>RICHMOND:<br> -T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.<br> -1834-5.</small></center> -<br><br><br><br> -<h3>CONTENTS OF VOLUME I, NUMBER 4</h3> - -<p><a href="#sect01">S<small>KETCHES OF THE</small> H<small>ISTORY</small> and -Present Condition of Tripoli, with some accounts of the other -Barbary States (No. II)</a>: by R. G.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect02">R<small>EVIEW</small> of Governor Tazewell's Report to the -Legislature of Virginia, on the Deaf and Dumb Asylum</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect03">C<small>OLONIAL</small> M<small>ANNERS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect04">W<small>ESTERN</small> S<small>CENERY</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect05">T<small>HOM'S</small> G<small>ROUP OF</small> -S<small>TATUARY</small>, <small>FROM</small> B<small>URNS'S</small> -T<small>AM</small> O'S<small>HANTER</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect06">C<small>IRCUMSTANTIAL</small> E<small>VIDENCE</small></a>: by Emillion</p> - -<p><a href="#sect07">L<small>AW</small> L<small>ECTURE AT</small> -W<small>ILLIAM AND</small> M<small>ARY</small></a>: by Professor Beverley Tucker</p> - -<p><a href="#sect08">T<small>HE</small> M<small>ARCH OF</small> M<small>IND</small></a>: by V.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect09">T<small>HE</small> V<small>ILLAGE ON</small> F<small>OURTH</small> J<small>ULY</small> 183—</a>: by T. P.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect10">T<small>O</small> D——</a>: by E.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect11">I<small>NVOCATION TO</small> R<small>ELIGION</small></a>: by L.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect12">B<small>EAUTY AND</small> T<small>IME</small></a>: by S.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect13">A<small>NTICIPATION</small></a>: by L.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect14">H<small>INTS TO</small> S<small>TUDENTS OF</small> -G<small>EOLOGY</small></a>: by Peter A. Browne, Esq.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect15">E<small>SSAY ON</small> L<small>UXURY</small></a>: by B. B. B. H.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect16">T<small>O</small> ——</a>: by Powhatan</p> - -<p><a href="#sect17">E<small>LOQUENCE</small></a>: by H. M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect18">L<small>ETTERS FROM</small> N<small>EW</small> -E<small>NGLAND</small>—No. 2</a>: by a Virginian</p> - -<p><a href="#sect19">O<small>N THE</small> P<small>OLICY OF</small> E<small>LEVATING THE</small> -S<small>TANDARD OF</small> F<small>EMALE</small> E<small>DUCATION</small></a>: by L. H. S.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect20">M<small>Y</small> N<small>AME</small></a>: by J. D.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect21">T<small>O THE</small> D<small>EFENDERS OF</small> -N<small>EW</small> O<small>RLEANS</small></a>: by Dr. J. R. Drake</p> - -<p><a href="#sect22">V<small>ALEDICTORY IN</small> J<small>ULY</small> 1829</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect23">T<small>HE</small> S<small>EASONS</small></a>: by V.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect24">B<small>YRON'S</small> L<small>AST</small> -W<small>ORDS</small></a>: by D. Martin</p> - -<p><a href="#sect25">T<small>O</small> A Y<small>OUNG</small> -L<small>ADY</small></a>: by A. B. M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect26">L<small>INES IN AN</small> A<small>LBUM</small></a>: by A. B. M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect27">P<small>ARTING</small></a>: by A. B. M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect28">L<small>INES</small> S<small>UGGESTED ON</small> -V<small>IEWING THE</small> R<small>UINS AT</small> -J<small>AMESTOWN</small></a>: by Sylvanus</p> - -<p><a href="#sect29">O<small>DE</small> W<small>RITTEN ON A</small> -F<small>INE</small> N<small>IGHT AT</small> S<small>EA</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect30">A<small>UTUMN</small> W<small>OODS</small></a>: by H.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect31">T<small>HE</small> D<small>ECLARATION</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect32">F<small>ROM</small> M<small>Y</small> -S<small>CRAP</small> B<small>OOK</small></a>: by Powhatan</p> - -<p><a href="#sect33">T<small>HE</small> M<small>ECHANICIAN AND</small> -U<small>NCLE</small> S<small>IMON</small></a>: by Nugator</p> - -<p><a href="#sect34">L<small>INES</small> W<small>RITTEN</small> -I<small>MPROMPTU</small>, on a Lady's intimating a wish to see some verses of mine in the -Messenger.</a>: by A. B.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect35">T<small>HE</small> P<small>EASANT</small>-W<small>OMEN -OF THE</small> C<small>ANARIES</small></a>: by Eliza</p> - -<p><a href="#sect36">T<small>HE</small> H<small>EART</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect37">P<small>ARODY ON</small> B<small>RYANT'S</small> A<small>UTUMN</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect38">T<small>HE</small> B<small>ATTLE OF</small> -B<small>REED'S</small> H<small>ILL</small></a>: by Alpha</p> - -<p><a href="#sect39">T<small>O A</small> L<small>ADY</small></a>: by M. S. L.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect40">T<small>O</small> I<small>ANTHE</small></a>: by Fergus</p> - -<p><a href="#sect41">S<small>ONNET</small></a>: by R. H. Wilde</p> - -<p><a href="#sect42">E<small>PIGRAMME</small> F<small>RANCAISE</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect43">T<small>RUE</small> C<small>ONSOLATION</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect44">S<small>ONNET</small></a>: by R. H. Wilde</p> - -<p><a href="#sect45">A<small>DVICE FROM A</small> F<small>ATHER TO</small> -H<small>IS</small> O<small>NLY</small> D<small>AUGHTER</small></a></p> - -<p>O<small>RIGINAL</small> L<small>ITERARY</small> N<small>OTICES</small><br> - <a href="#sect46">V<small>ATHEK</small>—An Oriental Tale</a>: by Mr. Beckford, author of Italy, &c.<br> - <a href="#sect47">L<small>EISURE</small> H<small>OURS</small>, -or the American Popular Library</a>: conducted by an Association of Gentlemen<br> - Selection: <a href="#sect48">M<small>Y</small> -T<small>WO</small> A<small>UNTS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect49">E<small>DITORIAL</small> R<small>EMARKS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect50">E<small>XTRACTS FROM THE</small> L<small>ETTERS OF</small> C<small>ORRESPONDENTS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect51">A<small>CKNOWLEDGMENTS TO</small> C<small>ONTRIBUTORS</small>, -C<small>ORRESPONDENTS</small>, &<small>C</small>.</a></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr> -<h3>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.</h3> -<hr> -<center>V<small>OL</small>. I.] RICHMOND, DECEMBER, -1834. [N<small>O</small>. 4.</center> -<hr> -<center><small>T. W. WHITE, PRINTER AND PROPRIETOR. FIVE -DOLLARS PER ANNUM.</small></center> -<a name="sect01"></a> -<hr> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY</h4> -<h5>And Present Condition of Tripoli, with some accounts of the other -Barbary States.</h5> -<center>No. II.</center> -<br> -<p>From the year 1551, when Tripoli was taken by Dragut, to the early part -of the eighteenth century, it continued to form a part of the Turkish -empire; and as such, but little is known respecting it. However, though -governed by a Pasha appointed from Constantinople, and garrisoned -exclusively by Turkish troops, it did not entirely lose its -nationality, and appears to have been much less dependant on the -Sultan, than the other parts of his dominions; for we find upon record, -treaties between Tripoli and various European powers concluded within -that period, in which no mention whatever is made of the Porte. That -with England, was negotiated in 1655 by Blake, immediately after his -successful bombardment of Tunis; it proved however of little value, for -ten years after, Sir John Narborough was sent with a fleet against -Tripoli, on which occasion the celebrated Cloudesley Shovel first -distinguished himself, in the destruction of several ships under the -guns of the castle.</p> - -<p>At length a revolution was effected in the government; the allegiance -to the Sultan was thrown off, and his paramount authority was reduced -to a mere nominal suzerainty. In the year 1714, Hamet surnamed -Caramalli, or the Caramanian, from a province of Asia Minor in which he -was born, while in command of the city as Bey or lieutenant during the -absence of the Pasha, formed a conspiracy among the Moors, by whose -aid, the city was freed from Turkish troops in a single night. Three -hundred of them were invited by him to an entertainment at a castle a -few miles distant from Tripoli, and were despatched as they -successively entered a dark hall or passage in the building; of the -others, many were found murdered in the streets next morning, and but a -small number escaped to tell the dreadful tale. A Moorish guard was -instantly formed, strong enough to repel any attack which could have -been expected; and Hamet was proclaimed sovereign, under the title of -Pasha. The new prince did not however trust entirely to arms, for the -security of his title, but instantly sent a large sum to -Constantinople, which being properly distributed, he succeeded in -obtaining confirmation, or rather recognition by the Sultan. He -moreover solemnly adopted Abdallah the infant son of his predecessor -and declared him heir to the throne; but he altered these views, if he -had ever entertained them, when his own children grew up, for his -eldest son was made Bey or lieutenant at an early age, and afterwards -succeeded him; Abdallah, however, lived through nearly three reigns, as -Kiah, or governor of the castle, and was murdered in 1790, by the hand -of the late Pasha Yusuf.</p> - -<p>Hamet seemed really desirous to advance the true interests of his -dominions, and for that purpose endeavored to make friends of the -European nations. Within a few years after his accession, he concluded -treaties with England, the United Provinces, Austria and Tuscany, one -of which alone, contains a vague proviso, respecting the approval of -the Sultan. The stipulations of these treaties are principally -commercial, or intended to secure the vessels of the foreign power, -from capture; no mention is made in them of any payments to Tripoli, -but it is generally understood that considerable sums were annually -given by the weaker states for the purpose of obtaining such exemption, -and by the more powerful in order to encourage the piracies. By these -means the commerce of the country was increased; the manufactures of -Europe were imported for the use of its inhabitants, and for -transportation into the interior, by the caravans; in return, dates, -figs, leather, &c. were exported from Tripoli, and cattle from the -ports lying east of it. One of the most valuable articles sent to -Europe, was salt, brought from the desert and the countries beyond, -where it is found in abundance, of the finest quality, either as -rock-salt or in sheets resembling ice on the sand. Soda was likewise -exported in great quantities, principally to France; but the facility -with which it is now obtained from common salt, has much lessened the -value of that substance and the quantity of it carried from Tripoli.</p> - -<p>This commerce was carried on exclusively in foreign vessels, -principally English, Dutch and French; those of Tripoli being all -fitted out as cruisers, and engaged in piracy. None of its vessels -indeed could venture to leave the place without being armed and manned -to an extent which the profits of a trading voyage would not warrant; -for in addition to the Spaniards, Venitians, Genoese and other maritime -states, with one or other of which the Tripolines were generally at -war, they had a constant and inveterate enemy in the Knights of Malta, -whose gallies were ever hovering about the port, and who in the -treatment of their captives, improved upon the lessons of cruelty -taught by their Barbary neighbors.</p> - -<p>These cruisers were charged to respect all vessels belonging to powers -with which Tripoli had treaties; but such charges were occasionally -forgotten, when a richly laden ship was encountered by a Corsair -returning perhaps from a fruitless cruise; and the Pasha who was -entitled to a large portion of each prize, sometimes shewed less -alacrity than was promised by his treaties in causing the damage to be -repaired. A mistake of this kind with regard to some French vessels, -provoked that government in 1729, when it was at peace with England, to -send a squadron to Tripoli, for the purpose of demanding satisfaction. -The result of this display was a treaty, the terms of which were -dictated by the French Admiral de Gouyon. The Pasha in the most abject -manner acknowledged his infractions of the former treaty, and accepted -with gratitude, the pardon and peace which the -Emperor<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> of France was -pleased to grant him—all the French prizes taken were to be restored, -or indemnification made for those which were lost or injured—the -French captives were to be released, together with twenty other -<i>Catholic</i> prisoners to be selected by the Admiral—Tripoline cruisers -were to be furnished with certificates from the French Consul, who was -to take precedence of all other Consuls on public occasions—French -vessels with their crews were not to be molested—together with many -other provisions, calculated to give to France immunities and -advantages, not enjoyed by any other nation. As an additional -humiliation, all stipulations made or that might be made with the -Porte, were to be observed by Tripoli; and the treaty was to remain in -force one hundred years.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> The King of France is always styled Emperor in -negotiations with the Oriental Powers.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This treaty is one of the many evidences of the want of common sense, -which formerly presided over diplomatic negotiations, and rendered -their history a record of unjust pretension on the one hand, of -duplicity and subterfuge on the other. Exclusive advantages for a -period which might as well have been left indefinite, are arrogantly -extorted from a petty state, without reflecting, that supposing the -utmost desire on its part, they could be observed only until some other -strong power should demand the same for itself. The Barbary states have -long known the absurdity of this, and have profited by it; to the force -of the greater nations, they have merely opposed the <i>Punica fides</i>, -and when availing resistance cannot be made, they sign any treaty -however humiliating, trusting to Allah for an opportunity to break it -profitably.</p> - -<p>The inutility of these exclusive stipulations was soon proved; for in -1751 Tripoli became involved in difficulties with Great Britain, from -circumstances similar to those which had provoked the ire of France. -The quarrel terminated in a similar manner; a fleet was sent, and a -treaty dictated, less humiliating in style to the weaker and less -arrogant on the part of the stronger, than that with France, but giving -to Great Britain in effect, all the exclusive or superior advantages, -and to her consul the same precedence of all other consuls, which had -already been solemnly guarantied to the French. As a matter of course -the latter sent a squadron soon after, to require a renewal of the -treaty of 1729 with stipulations still more in their favor, to which of -course the Pasha consented. The same plan has been pursued by these two -great nations, with regard to the other states of Barbary; and the -court of each Bey, Pasha or Emperor, has been a perpetual theatre for -the intrigues and struggles for influence of their consuls.</p> - -<p>In the early treaties with these states, we see no provision against -piracy in general, no protest against the principle;—Tripoline -cruisers shall not make prizes of our vessels, nor appear within a -certain distance of our coasts—thus much they say; but nothing else -appears, from which it might be gathered, that Tripoli was other than a -state, respectable itself and complying with those evident duties, -which compose the body of national morals. In fact Great Britain and -France, each keeping a large naval force in the Mediterranean, which -could immediately chastise any offence against its own commerce, not -only had no objection to the practice of piracy, but even secretly -encouraged it; as the vessels of the weaker states were thus almost -excluded from competition in trade. The abandonment of this despicable -policy is one among the many triumphs of principle and feeling, which -have marked the advance of civilization during the last twenty years, -and which authorize us in hoping that a desire to promote the general -welfare of mankind, may in future exert an influence in the councils of -statesmen.</p> - -<p>In addition to his acts of pacific policy, Hamet extended his dominions -by force of arms; he conquered Fezzan, a vast tract of desert, -sprinkled with <i>oases</i> or islands of fertile soil, lying south of -Tripoli and which has until lately been held by his successors; this -conquest was important from the revenue it yielded, and from the -advantages it afforded to caravans to and from the centre of Africa. He -also reduced to complete subjection, the intractable inhabitants of the -ancient Cyrenaica or part lying beyond the Great Syrtis; and upon the -whole displayed so much energy and real good sense in his actions, that -viewing the circumstances under which he was placed, he may be -considered fairly entitled to the appellation of <i>Great</i>, which has -been bestowed on him by the people of Tripoli. Sometime before his -death, he became totally blind, which affliction was believed by the -more devout of his subjects, to have been sent as punishment for an act -of tyranny, such as daily practised in those countries. In one of his -visits to a mosque in the vicinity of the city, he chanced to see a -young girl, the daughter of the Marabout or holy man of the place, -whose beauty made such an impression on him, that he ordered the father -to send her that evening richly drest to the castle, under penalty of -being hacked to pieces, if he should fail to do so. She was accordingly -conveyed to the royal apartments, but the Pasha on entering the room, -found her a corpse; in order to save herself from violence, she had -acceded to the wish of her father and taken a deadly potion. It is -needless to relate what were the torments inflicted upon the parent; -while writhing under them, he prayed that Allah would strike the -destroyer with blindness; and his prayer was granted, it is said, as -soon as uttered. However this may have been, a blind sovereign cannot -long retain his power in Barbary; and Hamet probably felt that his own -authority was less respected; for without any other ostensible reason, -he deliberately shot himself in presence of his family in 1745. At -least such is the account of his end given to the world.</p> - -<p>After the death of Hamet the Great, the usual dissensions as to who -should succeed him, for sometime distracted the country; his second son -Mohammed at length established his claim, and with singular -magnanimity, permitted seven of his brothers to live through his reign, -which ended with his life in 1762.</p> - -<p>Ali, the son and successor of Mohammed, was not so indulgent, and -accordingly his uncles were soon despatched. One of them, a child, was -however believed to have escaped, and a man was for many years -supported at Tunis, whom the politic sovereign of that country affected -to consider as the prince. The pretensions of this person were even -favored by the Sultan, who, ever desirous of re-establishing his power -over Tripoli, adopted this means of keeping the country in a ferment, -and the Pasha in alarm. However, after this first bloody measure, which -is considered as a mere act of prudence in the East, Ali passed his -reign, not only without any show of cruelty, but actually exhibiting in -many cases a degree of culpable kindness. He seems indeed to have been -a weak and really amiable man, possessing many negative virtues, and -even a few positive; among the latter of which, were constancy and real -attachment for his family. He had but one wife, who doubtless merited -the devoted respect with which he always treated her; and when we read -the details of their family life, as recorded in the agreeable pages of -Mrs. Tully,<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> it is -difficult to imagine that such scenes could have -taken place within the bloodstained walls of the castle of Tripoli.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Narrative of a Ten Year's residence in Tripoli, from the -Correspondence of the family of the late Richard Tully, British Consul -at Tripoli, from 1785 to 1794.</small></blockquote> - -<p>But if Ali received pleasure and consolation from his faithful Lilla -Halluma, the mutual hatred of their three sons rendered the greater -part of his existence a horrible burden. Hassan, the eldest of the -princes, was a man of much energy, together with a considerable share -of generosity and good feeling. He was at an early age invested by his -father with the title of Bey, which implies an acknowledgement of his -right to succeed to the throne, and moreover gives him the command of -the forces, the only effectual means of substantiating that right. In -this office he soon distinguished himself during many expeditions which -he commanded against various refractory tribes; and under his -administration, the army and the revenues of the country began to -recover from the miserable state in which the supineness of his father -had permitted them to languish. Indeed, upon the whole, he gave promise -of as much good with as little alloy, as could possibly have been -expected in a sovereign of Tripoli.</p> - -<p>Hamet, the second son of the Pasha, inherited the weakness of his -father, without his better qualities, and exhibited throughout life the -utmost want of decision; in prosperity ever stupidly insolent; in -adversity the most abject and degraded of beings, the slave of any one -who was pleased to employ him. An improper message sent by the Bey to -his wife, soon after their marriage, provoked a deadly hatred against -his elder brother, which only exhibited itself however in idle vaporing -threats of vengeance. The distracted parents did all in their power to -produce a reconciliation, but in vain; the Bey was haughty, and Hamet -implacable; neither trusting himself in the presence of the other, -unless armed to the teeth and environed by guards.</p> - -<p>Yusuf, the youngest son, was the reverse of Hamet; brave, dashing and -impetuous, he had scarcely reached his sixteenth year, before he openly -declared his determination to struggle with the Bey for the future -possession of the crown, or even to pluck it from the brow of his fond -and tottering parent. Hassan at first regarded this as the mere -ebullition of boyish feelings, and endeavored to attach him by acts of -kindness; but they were thrown away on Yusuf, who apparently siding -with Hamet, acquired over him an influence which rendered him a ready -tool. The whole country was engaged in the dispute, and daily brawls -between the adherents of the opposing parties rendered Tripoli almost -uninhabitable.</p> - -<p>The report of this state of things produced much effect at -Constantinople; the Sultan wished to regain possession of Tripoli, and -he had reason to fear lest its distracted state should induce some -christian power to attempt its conquest. It was therefore arranged in -1786, that an attack should be made on the place by sea, while the Bey -of Tunis should be ready with a force to co-operate by land if -necessary. The Capoudan Pasha or Turkish High Admiral, at that time was -the famous Hassan, who afterwards distinguished himself in the wars -against Russia on the Black Sea, and against the French in the Levant, -particularly by the relief of Acre in 1799, while it was besieged by -Buonaparte. He was the mortal enemy of Ali, and was moreover excited by -the hope of obtaining the sovereignty of the country in case he should -succeed in getting a footing. A large armament was therefore prepared; -but its destination was changed, and instead of recovering Tripoli, the -Capoudan Pasha had orders to proceed to Egypt, and endeavor to restore -that country to its former allegiance; the Mamelukes having succeeded -in establishing there an almost independent authority.</p> - -<p>The Tripoline Princes had been somewhat united by the news of the -projected invasion; but this change in the objects of the Porte, again -set the angry feelings of the brothers in commotion, and a severe -illness with which their father was seized at the time, gave additional -fury to their enmity, by apparently bringing the object of their -discord nearer. As the old Pasha's death was expected, the Bey called -the troops around him, and every avenue to the castle was defended; -Yusuf and Hamet on their parts assembled their followers, and declared -their resolution to overthrow Hassan or perish in the attempt, being -convinced that his success would be the signal of their own -destruction. Their tortured mother prepared to die by her own hands, -rather than witness the dreadful scenes which would ensue on the -decease of her husband. Ali however recovered, and things remained in -the same unsettled state for three years longer; the mutual animosity -of the Princes increasing, and the dread of invasion causing every sail -which appeared, to be regarded with anxiety and suspicion.</p> - -<p>Yusuf had now reached his twentieth year, and had acquired complete -influence over the mind of his father; a quarrel about a servant had -raised a deadly feud between him and Hamet, and the Bey feeling more -confidence from the success of several expeditions, was rendered less -cautious than he should have been. Lilla Halluma made every effort to -produce unity of feeling among them, and at length prevailed upon -Hassan to meet his youngest brother in her apartments. The Bey came -armed only with his sword, and even that defence he was induced to lay -aside, by the representations of his mother. Yusuf appeared also -unarmed, but attended by some of his most devoted black followers; he -embraced his brother, and declaring himself satisfied, called for a -Koran on which to attest the honesty of his purpose. But that was a -signal which his blacks understood, and instead of the sacred volume, -two pistols were placed in his hands; he instantly fired at the -luckless Bey, who was seated next their mother; the ball took -effect—the victim staggered towards his sword—but ere he could reach -it, another shot stretched him on the floor; he turned his dying eyes -towards Lilla Halluma, and erroneously conceiving that she had betrayed -him, exclaimed, "Mother, is this the present you have reserved for your -eldest son!" The infuriated blacks despatched him by an hundred stabs, -in the presence not only of his mother, but also of his wife, whom the -reports of the pistols had brought to the room. Yusuf made his way out -of the castle, offering up as a second victim the venerable Kiah -Abdallah, whom he met with on his passage; he then celebrated the -successful issue of his morning's achievement by a feast. This happened -about the end of July, 1790.</p> - -<p>Hamet was absent when the murder took place, and on his return was -proclaimed Bey, but not until the consent of Yusuf had been obtained, -which the miserable Pasha had been weak enough to require. The two -brothers then swore eternal friendship, accompanying the oath with the -ceremonies considered most solemn on such occasions. But oaths could -have but little weight with men of their respective characters; they -could give no security to Hamet, nor act as restraints upon Yusuf. In a -short time the brothers disagreed; the Bey fortified himself in the -castle, while Yusuf established his quarters in the Messeah, or plain -which lies on one side of the City, and raised the standard of revolt. -A number of discontented Moors and Arabs were soon assembled in his -cause, and he formed a partial siege of the place.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the Sultan was again at leisure to carry into effect the long -projected plan against the country. A squadron was prepared, and one -Ali-ben-Zool, a notorious pirate, was placed in command, and furnished -with a <i>firman</i> or commission as Pasha. This squadron entered the -harbor of Tripoli on the night of the 29th of July, 1793, and during -the confusion that ensued, the Turks having got possession of the -gates, were in a short time masters of the town. The <i>firman</i> was then -read, and the Pasha was summoned to deliver the castle to the -representative of his sovereign. The poor old man was struck almost -senseless with the news; his wife and family finding that resistance -was impossible escaped, carrying the Pasha more dead than alive out of -the city, where they at first were protected by an Arab tribe. Yusuf -seeing when too late the misery which he had brought on his family, at -length begged forgiveness from his father, and the Princes uniting -their forces, endeavored by an assault on the town to retrieve their -fortunes; but it proved unsuccessful; the Pasha's party was betrayed, -and the Turkish power was for a time established. Every species of -cruelty was then committed by Ali-ben-Zool, for the purpose of -extorting money from the wretched inhabitants, and scenes were acted, -which it would be shocking to relate. The unfortunate Lilla Halluma -soon died of grief; her husband and sons retired to Tunis, where they -were received and generously assisted by the Bey.</p> - -<p>The Porte at length was induced by the cruelties of its agent, to -withdraw its support, and leave was given to the Caramalli family to -regain their dominions. Ten thousand troops accordingly marched from -Tunis in the spring of 1795, under the command of Hamet and Yusuf; ere -they reached Tripoli, Ali-ben-Zool had evacuated the place, and retired -to Egypt. This ruffian was afterwards made Governor of Alexandria in -1803, subsequently to the expulsion of the French, where he pursued the -same course of cruelty and extortion as at Tripoli, until he was at -length murdered by his guards.</p> - -<p>It is not to be supposed that Yusuf took all these pains merely to -establish his brother quietly in Tripoli; the rude soldiery who decide -matters of that kind in Barbary, could not but see a difference between -him and Hamet, which was by no means in favor of the latter. Of this -disposition Yusuf took full advantage, and so ingratiated himself with -the troops, that when at length the news of old Ali's death reached the -city, he was unanimously proclaimed Pasha; his brother, who was absent -at the time, on returning, found the gates closed against him, and -received an order from the new sovereign to retire to the distant -province of Derne, and remain there as Bey. Hamet having no other -resource, went to his place of banishment, and remained there for some -time; but finding that his brother was daily making attempts to destroy -him, he at length in 1797 retired to Tunis, where he was supported by -the Bey.</p> - -<p>The earliest act of Yusuf with regard to foreign intercourse, was the -conclusion of a treaty with the United States, which was signed on the -4th of November, 1796, Joel Barlow then American Consul at Algiers and -Colonel David Humphries, being the agents of the latter party. Its -terms are generally reciprocal; passports are to be given to vessels of -each country by which they are to be known—"As the Government of the -United States is not in any sense founded on the christian religion, -and has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or -tranquillity of Mussulmen, no pretext arising from religious opinions -shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony between the two -countries"—the Pasha acknowledges the receipt of money and presents, -"in consideration for this treaty of perpetual peace and friendship, -and no pretence of any periodical tribute or farther payment is ever to -be made by either party." Finally, the observance of the treaty is -"guarantied by the most potent Dey and Regency of Algiers, and in case -of dispute, no appeal shall be made to arms, but an amicable reference -shall be made to the mutual friend of both parties, the Dey of Algiers, -the parties hereby engaging to abide by his decision."</p> - -<p>To the terms of this treaty it would be difficult to offer any -objection; the United States were anxious that their commerce in the -Mediterranean should be undisturbed; their naval force was inadequate -to its protection, and it was then considered inexpedient to increase -that force. Presents were given in compliance with a custom generally -if not always observed, and it was certainly the more manly course to -have the fact openly stated in the treaty, with the proviso annexed, -that none others were to be expected. The treaty between the United -States and Algiers was on terms less equal, as it contained a -stipulation on the part of the former to pay an annual value of -twenty-one thousand dollars in military stores.</p> - -<p>Thus secured from interruption, the American commerce in the -Mediterranean rapidly increased, and the Tripoline corsairs were daily -tantalized by the sight of large vessels laden with valuable cargoes, -which were to be passed untouched, for no other reason than because -they sailed under the striped flag and carried a piece of parchment -covered with unintelligible characters. This must have been the more -vexatious to the corsairs as they never met with ships of war belonging -to the nation which they were thus required to respect.</p> - -<p>Reports of this nature did not fail to produce their effect upon Yusuf; -his cupidity was excited, and he doubtless feared that his popularity -might suffer, if his subjects were longer prevented from pursuing what -had always been considered a lawful and honorable calling in Barbary. -He had collected a small maritime force, estimated in 1800 at eleven -vessels of various sizes, mounting one hundred and three guns, and thus -considered himself strong enough to give up the further observance of a -treaty with a power which appeared so incapable of enforcing it. In -this idea he was encouraged by his naval officers. The chief of these -was a Scotch renegade, who had been tempted to exchange the kirk for -the mosque, and his homely name of Peter Lyle, with his humble -employment of mate to a trading vessel, for the more sounding title of -Morat Rais, and the substantial appointment of High Admiral of Tripoli. -Rais Peter is represented by all who knew him as destitute of real -talent, but possessing in its stead much of that pliability of -disposition which is supposed to form an essential characteristic of -his countrymen; however that may have been, he for some time enjoyed -great credit with the Pasha, and employed it as far as he could against -the interests of the United States. Whether this arose from any -particular enmity, or from the hope of enjoying a share of the -anticipated spoil, is uncertain; but to his influence was mainly -ascribed the proceedings which led to a rupture of the peace. Another -abettor of the war was the Vice Admiral Rais Amor Shelly, a desperate -ruffian, who was most anxious to be engaged where there was such -evident promise of gain. Hamet Rais, the minister of marine, was of the -same opinion, and probably of all his councillors, Yusuf placed the -greatest confidence in him; he is represented as a man of great -sagacity and energy—such indeed, that Lord Nelson thought proper in -1798, to send a ship of the line, with a most overbearing letter, -demanding his exile, which the Pasha promised, but after the departure -of the ship thought no more about it. The only friend of the United -States in the regency, was the Prime Minister Mahomet d'Ghies, whom -every account represents as an honorable and enlightened gentleman.</p> - -<p>Thus fortified by the assurances of his counsellors, and farther -induced by his success in bringing Sweden to his terms, Yusuf commenced -his proceedings against the United States in 1799, by making -requisitions of their consul; these were resisted, and to a proposal -from Mr. Cathcart (the consul) that reference should be made to the Dey -of Algiers, as provided in such cases by the treaty, the Pasha replied -that he no longer regarded the stipulations of that convention. His -intentions became more clearly defined in the ensuing year, when Rais -Shelly returned from a cruise, with an American brig, which he had -brought in under pretence of irregularity in her papers; she was indeed -restored, but not until after long delay and the commission of -numberless acts of petty extortion, accompanied by hints that such -lenity would not be again displayed. Considerable time having elapsed -without any answer from the United States, the consul was informed that -the treaty with his country was at an end; that the Pasha demanded two -hundred and fifty thousand dollars as the price of a new one; and that -it must contain an engagement on the part of the United States, to pay -an annual tribute of twenty-five thousand dollars for its continuance. -No reply having been made to this, war was formally declared by Tripoli -on the 11th of May, 1801, the American flag staff was cut down by the -Pasha's orders on the 14th, and Mr. Cathcart left the place a few days after.</p> - -<p>A swarm of cruisers instantly issued from the port of Tripoli, and -spread themselves over every part of the Mediterranean; two of them -under Morat Rais arrived at Gibraltar, with the intention of even -braving the perils of the unknown Atlantic, in search of American -vessels. In the course of a few weeks five prizes were taken by the -corsairs; but the consul of the United States had long foreseen the -danger, and given timely warning, so that interruption of their -commerce was almost the only evil afterwards suffered.</p> - -<p>As soon as the news of these exactions arrived in Washington, President -Jefferson caused a squadron, composed of three frigates and a sloop of -war, to be fitted out and despatched to the Mediterranean, under -Commodore Dale; it entered that sea about the end of June, 1801, and -was probably the first American armed force seen in its waters. This -squadron was sent with the hope that its display would be alone -sufficient to bring the Pasha back to the observance of the treaty; the -Commodore was therefore instructed to act with great caution, so as to -repress rather than provoke hostilities; and he was made the bearer of -letters to each of the Barbary sovereigns, couched in the most amicable -terms and disclaiming all warlike intentions. The squadron touched -first at Tunis, where its appearance somewhat softened the Bey, who had -begun the same system of exactions from the American consul; it then -sailed for Tripoli, before which it appeared on the 24th of July.</p> - -<p>The sight of such a force was very disquieting to Yusuf, who sent a -messenger on board to learn what were its objects. The Commodore -replied by asking what were the Pasha's views in declaring war, and on -what principles he expected to make peace? To this Yusuf endeavored to -evade giving a direct answer, and he hinted that his principal cause of -complaint was the dependence on Algiers implied by the terms of the -first and the last articles of the treaty, which he considered -humiliating. The American commander not being empowered to negotiate, -remained for some days blockading the harbor, until having learnt that -several cruisers were out, he thought proper to go in search of them. -One only was encountered, a ship of fourteen guns, commanded by Rais -Mahomet Sous, which after an action of three hours, on the 1st of -August, with the schooner Enterprize, struck her colours; the Americans -lost not a man, the Tripolines had nearly half their crew killed or -wounded. As orders had been given to make no prizes, the cruiser was -dismantled, and her captain directed to inform the Pasha, that such -"was the only tribute he would receive from the United States." -Notwithstanding the desperate valor displayed in this action by the -Tripolines, Yusuf thought proper to ascribe the result to cowardice on -the part of the commander; and poor Mahomet Sous, after having been -paraded through the streets of the city on an ass, exposed to the -insults of the mob, received five hundred strokes of the bastinado. -This piece of injustice and cruelty however, produced an effect the -reverse of that which was intended; for after it, no captain could be -induced to put to sea, and those who were out already, on learning the -treatment experienced by their comrade, took refuge from the Americans -and the Pasha, for the most part among the islands of the Archipelago. -The two largest vessels which had been arrested at Gibraltar on their -way to the Atlantic, by the appearance of the United States' squadron, -were laid up at that place, their crews passing over into Morocco.</p> - -<p>The American commerce being thus for the time secured from -interruption, a portion of the squadron returned to the United States; -the remainder passed the winter in the Mediterranean, and were joined -in the ensuing spring (1802) by other ships. Nothing however was -attempted towards a conclusion of the difficulties with Tripoli by any -decisive blow; the American agents in the other Barbary states were -instructed to procure peace if possible, on condition of paying an -annual tribute; and partial negotiations were carried on, principally -through the mediation of the Bey of Tunis. They however proved -ineffectual, as Yusuf demanded an amount far beyond that which the -American government proposed. The operations of the squadron were -limited to mere demonstrations; a simple display of force being -considered preferable to active measures. On one occasion however, the -Constellation frigate, while cruising off the harbor of Tripoli, was -suddenly becalmed, and in this defenceless situation, was attacked by a -number of Tripoline gun-boats; their fires would soon have reduced her -to a wreck, had not a breeze fortunately sprung up, which enabled her -to choose her position; several of the gun-boats having been then -quickly destroyed, the remainder were forced to retreat into port.</p> - -<p>The system of caution and forbearance by which the foreign policy of -the American government was then regulated, renders the history of its -transactions in the Mediterranean during the first four years of this -century by no means flattering to the national pride. There was a -disposition to negotiate and to purchase peace, rather than boldly to -enforce it, which must have been most galling to the brave spirits who -were thus obliged to remain inactive; and it certainly encouraged the -Barbary governments in the opinion that the Americans were disposed to -accept the more humiliating of the two alternatives, paying or -fighting, which they offered to all other nations. It would not perhaps -be just at present to censure this patient policy; the institutions of -the country were then by no means firmly established, and the utmost -circumspection was necessary in the management and disposition of its -resources. There was also great reason to apprehend that a decided -attack on one of the Barbary powers, would produce a coalition of the -whole, aided by Turkey, which might have given a blow, severe and -perhaps fatal, to the commerce of the United States in the -Mediterranean. The Americans may however at least rejoice, that a more -dignified system can now with assurance be pursued, in the conduct of -all their affairs with foreign nations.</p> -<br> -<p>The length of this article renders its conclusion in the present number -inconvenient; the remainder will appear in our next.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect02"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<h4>REVIEW</h4> -<h5>of Governor Tazewell's Report to the Legislature of Virginia, -on the Deaf and Dumb Asylum.</h5> -<br> -<p>The late Chief Magistrate of Virginia, Governor Floyd, in his message -of December, 1833, called the attention of the Legislature to the -condition of that unfortunate race of beings for whom it has been -reserved, under Providence, to the present age, to provide a suitable -system of instruction, by which they should be elevated to the -condition of moral and accountable creatures. The Governor says: "The -deaf, and dumb, and the blind, are objects of sympathy with all classes -of society, and from which no family can claim exemption. An asylum for -these unfortunate beings is suggested, where proper attention and -instruction can be given at public expense—where they can be taught to -read and write, and learn something of the useful arts; where even the -blind can be taught something to alleviate the long and wearisome night -which is allotted to them. I appeal to you in their behalf with the -more confidence, as it is a subject which stands wholly unconnected -with the business of life, from which they are excluded; and without -voice, like the eloquence of the spheres, applies to the heart of all, -from which they will not be spurned by the good and the just."</p> - -<p>These humane and benevolent suggestions were referred, by special -resolution, to the Committee of Schools and Colleges, by which -committee a very able report was made on the subject to the House of -Delegates, concluding with a resolution, "that it was expedient and -highly important to provide immediately for the establishment and -endowment of an asylum for the deaf and dumb of the state of Virginia."</p> - -<p>At the same session of the Legislature, it appears that a memorial was -presented by the trustees of the deaf and dumb asylum at Staunton, an -association incorporated in March 1833, setting forth that sufficient -funds had been provided to purchase a suitable site for a building—and -praying that the Legislature would make an annual appropriation in aid -of their benevolent purposes. This memorial is written with ability, -and presents in a strong light the necessity of some legislative action -on the subject. The Legislature, it seems however, was not prepared to -act definitively, even with all the lights before them; but as if -unwilling that an object so vastly important, and involving so many -high considerations, should entirely be lost sight of,—the House of -Delegates, a few days before the close of the session, adopted a -resolution requesting the Governor "to communicate to the General -Assembly at its next session such facts and views as he might deem -pertinent and useful, relative to the best plan, the appropriate -extent, the most suitable organization, and the probable cost of an -institution for the instruction of the deaf and dumb, to be located in -some healthy and convenient situation in this state; and that he be -further requested to accompany his communication by such information as -he might be able to impart relative to similar institutions in other -states, together with an estimate of the probable number of the deaf -and dumb who would repair to such an institution, to be located within -the limits of this Commonwealth."</p> - -<p>In compliance with this resolution, Governor Tazewell, whose term of -office commenced on the 31st of March last, made a report to the -Legislature at its present session—a report which we regret to say is -entirely at variance with all the views heretofore entertained on this -interesting subject—a report which, so far as such high authority can -wield an influence, is calculated to repress the efforts of the friends -of humanity in the prosecution of so noble a cause. We shall examine -this document with the respect which is due to the high character and -eminent talents of its author—at the same time with that freedom which -belongs to the right of discussion—especially when we believe that the -interests of humanity are deeply concerned in the issue.</p> - -<p>The report, after a few preliminary remarks, sets out as follows: "In -differing from those who may be in favor of establishing within this -state a seminary for the education of the deaf and dumb <i>at this time</i>, -I hope I shall not be considered by any as being opposed to the -accomplishment of an object so truly benevolent in its character. The -very reverse of this is the fact. It is only because I ardently desire -to see this laudable object attained by the best means practicable, -that I do not concur with those who may desire to effect it by the -creation of such an institution within this Commonwealth <i>at this -time</i>." Now with great deference to his Excellency, we humbly conceive -that all the reasons which he assigns against the establishment or -endowment of an asylum <i>at this time</i>, apply with equal force to any -<i>other time</i>. If there be any force in his arguments, they will -continue to operate, at least in a very essential degree, <i>for a long -period of years</i>. What are his reasons?</p> - -<p>"Schools for the instruction of the deaf and dumb differ from all other -seminaries of education in this particular—that they can never -prosper, except by means which may suffice to bring together, at one -point, a sufficient number of pupils to commune with each other in -their own peculiar mode, and to concentrate the interest necessary to -be felt, and the efforts necessary to be used by those engaged in their -instruction. No expense can accomplish the desired object, unless by -the attainment of these means. Then, the question seems to be resolved -into this: Can the Legislature of Virginia reasonably promise itself, -that by the employment of any means which it ought to use, it may -concentrate at any point within this state, sufficient inducements to -draw thither the proper number of such pupils and of such instructers? -I do not think this can be done."</p> - -<p>We shall forbear answering this part of his Excellency's report, which -we think is very easily done, until we spread still more of his reasons -before the reader.</p> - -<p>"The whole number of white persons in Virginia, of all ages, who were -deaf and dumb, is shown by the last census to have been then four -hundred and twenty-two only. The annual increase of such unfortunates -(as shown by the calculations made upon the population of other -countries less favorably situated in this respect than Virginia,) does -not amount to more than about fifteen in a million—a number -approaching so nearly to the annual decrease by natural causes, that -the annual augmentation here must be very small indeed. Of the whole -number of deaf and dumb in any state, even in those where the most -liberal means have been employed to attract to their long established -asylums all of that class who might be induced to resort thither, the -proportion does not exceed one fifteenth. Thus in Connecticut, where -the number of mutes, as shewn by the last census, was two hundred and -ninety-five, there were not at their asylum, according to the last -report of that institution which I have seen, more than eighteen -persons of that number; and this after a period of sixteen years had -elapsed since the commencement of this establishment. Yet in -Connecticut the population is dense, and the inducements held out to -send all their deaf and dumb to this asylum are very great indeed. So -too in Pennsylvania, where the last census shews the whole number of -mutes to have been seven hundred and twelve, the number of these at -their excellent asylum, according to the last report, was only -forty-eight, after this seminary had been opened fourteen years.</p> - -<p>"If then," continues the Governor, "in Connecticut, where there are two -hundred and ninety-five mutes, there cannot be collected at such an -institution, after sixteen years, more than eighteen of that number; -and if in Pennsylvania, where the number of mutes is seven hundred and -twelve, only forty-eight of that number can be induced to avail -themselves of the advantages held out by its admirable institution, -after —— years; it is unreasonable to suppose that the sparse -population of Virginia could supply a sufficient number of pupils to -attain the great object had in view by the establishment of a seminary -here like that proposed. For it must not be overlooked, that the supply -of pupils to every school will bear some proportion to the expense of -maintaining them while there, and that in older institutions, this -expense will be necessarily much less than in those of more recent origin."</p> - -<p>The Governor would have shed much more light upon this branch of the -subject, if he had expressed his opinion as to the precise number of -pupils which it was necessary to bring together, in order that they -might "commune with each other in their own peculiar mode;" and which, -according to his view of the subject, is necessary to the existence and -prosperity of all such institutions. That opinion however he has not -indicated; but has left us to infer that as not more than one in -fifteen has ever been induced, according to the experience of other -institutions, to resort to them for instruction, even by the employment -of the most liberal means,—that proportion of the whole number of free -white deaf mutes in Virginia, would not be sufficient to justify the -commencement of such an establishment here. One fifteenth of the whole -number in Virginia, at the last census, would be twenty-eight. That -number, however, will not suffice, and we must wait longer. How long, -it is impossible to tell—inasmuch as from his Excellency's reasoning, -the increase must be very inconsiderable—being not more than at the -rate of sixteen annually for every million of inhabitants; and from -this must be deducted the decrease from natural causes. Let us suppose -then that the annual increase in Virginia is sixteen, and that the -annual decrease is twelve, leaving a yearly increment of four to the -whole number in the state. Now as, according to Governor Tazewell's -views, not more than one in fifteen of the whole number can be induced -to attend a school of instruction, it requires not the aid of Cocker to -demonstrate that several years must elapse before even an additional -pupil can be added to the twenty-eight above stated. Candor compels us -therefore to declare that we think this part of his Excellency's report -very unsound in its reasoning. He seems to have founded his argument -upon the supposition that the deaf and dumb pupils to be educated at -the proposed asylum in Virginia, are to be maintained from their own -resources, or the private liberality of their friends; whereas, the -very object of applying for Legislative aid, is to enable many of these -indigent children of misfortune to obtain instruction at the public -expense. If this was not the ground of the Governor's reasoning, why -does he suppose that not more than one-fifteenth of the whole number of -deaf mutes could be induced to resort to a seminary for instruction? -Does he mean that a larger proportion could not be obtained if the -public expense were proffered for their education and subsistence? If -he does, then we humbly think that his Excellency is most egregiously mistaken.</p> - -<p>Strange as it may seem however, whilst the Governor in the part of his -report which we have quoted, seems to reason upon the idea that -Legislative aid is desired for the sole purpose of endowing an asylum -at the commencement, and that the annual cost of supporting and -educating the pupils is to be drawn from private sources,—he -nevertheless suggests as the preferable mode, that the Legislature -should annually appropriate a sufficient sum for the maintenance of a -given number of pupils at the institutions of Connecticut or -Pennsylvania. Let him speak in his own language:</p> - -<p>"If the benevolent purpose of instructing the deaf and dumb be the -great object of those who desire the establishment of a seminary of -this kind in Virginia at this time, the principal question must be, by -what means can such an object be best attained? The considerations I -have mentioned will probably suffice to shew, that much proficiency -cannot reasonably be expected from a school of this kind created here -now, nor for many years yet to come, except at a cost to the public -very far exceeding any public benefit that could possibly be derived -from it. The benevolence of the object might perhaps justify such an -expenditure for its accomplishment, if no other means existed. But when -other means are open, by which the same benevolent purpose may be -attained, even better, and at much less expense, it seems difficult to -assign any reason why the better and cheaper mode should not be -preferred. This better mode seems to me to be, to appropriate a portion -of the sum it must require to create and to perpetuate such an -establishment here, to the advancement of the same object in some other -seminary already established in one of the other states. All the -eastern states (except Rhode Island, I believe,) have pursued this -course in regard to the seminary at Hartford, in Connecticut; and I -understand that New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland have adopted the same -plan with respect to the seminary in Pennsylvania."</p> - -<p>In what way, let us ask, is this annual appropriation which the -Governor recommends, to be expended? Upon the indigent of course—upon -those to whose intellectual night the providence of God has superadded -the gloom of poverty; and these objects of public sympathy and bounty -are to be selected we presume from various parts of the commonwealth, -according to some equitable rule hereafter to be established. Now we -humbly think, that whatever inducements could prevail upon the friends -of these unfortunates, to send them from three to five hundred miles -abroad, in order to partake of the state's charity, would operate with -much greater force if the place of their destination were somewhere -within our own limits. Of this fact we presume there can be no -question. The father or guardian of an indigent deaf mute in one of the -border counties of this commonwealth, would vastly prefer Richmond, -Staunton or Charlottesville as the place of his education, to either of -the cities of Philadelphia or Hartford. There are, moreover, many -strong and obvious reasons why a <i>state institution</i> should be -patronized, in preference to any other. The public funds would be -expended on our own soil, and among our own population. The state would -be even richer, by the introduction among us of that peculiar science, -which reveals the mysterious intercourse of human minds deprived of the -usual inlets to the understanding. The Governor himself seems to be -aware that the encouragement of every good thing among ourselves, -rather than to be dependent upon others for their enjoyment, is an -honest, natural and patriotic prejudice; and accordingly he takes some -pains to encounter and overthrow it. Hear him.</p> - -<p>"Although I will not admit that there is a single citizen within the -limits of Virginia more desirous than I am to domesticate here every -thing needful to the well being of the state, yet I neither consider -many of what are called modern improvements as coming within this -description, nor do I regard it as wise to attempt such domestication -prematurely. It is among the wise dispensations of Providence, that all -things really necessary to man are placed within the grasp of every -community composed of men, and that much of what is not necessary, but -convenient only, is of easy acquisition in every civilized society. But -when you ascend higher in the scale, and seek to teach or to learn all -the sublime and long hidden truths of modern science, it is perhaps -fortunate for our race that there are not many any where who feel the -inclination to become scholars, and very few indeed who are qualified -to teach such lessons. Such science may truly say she is of no country; -for no single country on the habitable globe could fill the chairs of -the instructers, or the forms of the pupils. Accident generally lays -the foundation of such seminaries, and the contributions of the -civilized world are required to erect and preserve the edifice. Does -any country grudge to pay her quota to the common stock, or seek to -pluck from the wing of science the particular feather which such -country may claim as her own?—each will do so in its turn—and the -bird which might have soared to a sightless height, when stripped of -its plumage, will but flutter on the surface, unable to wing her way on -high."</p> - -<p>Now we confess that we do not understand to our entire satisfaction -this extract from the report. The figure of the bird with the plucked -plumage, neither strikes us as in very good taste nor very -intelligible; but as we have more to do with his Excellency's arguments -than his rhetoric, we shall leave the latter to those who are better -skilled than we are in following "the mazes of metaphorical confusion." -The governor proceeds:</p> - -<p>"If this is the case with science, in what may now be considered its -higher departments, how much stronger is the appeal humanity makes in -favor of benevolence and christian charity. These are of no country, -certainly. They but sojourn on earth, teaching frail man to do his duty -to his maker, in providing for the wants of his unfortunate fellows, so -far as is practicable. To them it must be of little consequence indeed, -whether the mute by nature is made a rational being by arts employed in -his education, either in one place or another. So far as regards the -unfortunate mute, the only inquiry is, where can he be best taught? The -only inquiry of the benevolent ought to be, where can he be so taught -at the least cost? This last is an inquiry suggested not less by -benevolence than the former; for as the means of even charity are -necessarily limited, that application of them is best which promises to -do the greatest good with the least expenditure.</p> - -<p>"To all this let me add, that if there is any thing better calculated -than any other to cement our union, and to keep bright the chain which -I trust will bind these states together while time lasts, it will be -found in the contributions of each to the advancement of objects -approved by all, without any jealous regard to the actual spot at which -such a general good may commence. If a generous spirit of this sort is -but once manifested, its effects will be soon seen and felt by all. -Acts of kindness will not fail to induce forbearance and to generate -sympathy. When each state shall feel, that for the aid it requires to -accomplish any object of general utility, it may rely confidently on -its co-states, there will be no more applications to the federal -government to pervert the language of the constitution, in order to -accomplish the unholy scheme of robbing a minority to enrich a -majority. Then, those who contend but for the spoils of the vanquished, -may be safely left to the contempt which such a motive cannot fail to -inspire with all the generous and the good. It would have been worthy -of Virginia to set such an example: it is worthy of her to imitate that -which others have already taught."</p> - -<p>It is in these passages that we think lurks the fallacy, and we might -add, the mischief of the Governor's views. He sets out first by -deprecating all legislative interference on the subject. "Let us alone" -is his cardinal maxim, and the maxim of the school of political -economists to which he belongs.—Let individuals take care of -themselves and of each other, but let not government presume to thrust -its paternal care upon the community. In the next place, however, if -the State, according to his Excellency's notions, will officiously -obtrude into these private matters—why then let the funds of the -Commonwealth go abroad and enrich some sister State.—These kind -offices will brighten the chain of union which binds the States -together. They will teach us all to rely more upon each other, and less -upon the general government. This is the sum and substance of the -Governor's reasoning; and dangerous and fallacious as we believe it to -be, we feel the stronger obligation, coming from the high quarter it -does, to resist and refute it if we can. It may be justly asked, if -there be any thing sound in this specious appeal to the generous -feelings of the States, why have not the States carried out the -doctrine themselves? Why has North Carolina for example, proverbially -styled the Rip Van Winkle of the South, been so blind to her own -interests and duty, as not to send her deaf and dumb children to -Hartford, instead of erecting an asylum at home? Why have Ohio and -Kentucky been guilty of the similar folly of founding institutions -themselves? We think we can answer these questions in the only way in -which they can be answered, and that is, that these younger -States—these (for the most part) daughters of the Old Dominion, are -wiser in their generation than their venerable mother. They have -discerned their true interests, in fostering their own establishments. -Did any one ever dream that Kentucky had given cause of offence to her -sister States, by erecting an asylum for the poor mutes? We apprehend -not. The truth is, that his Excellency the Governor, is entirely -mistaken in his views upon this subject. State pride,—State -sovereignty,—State independence,—jealousy of the federal -government,—whatever you please to call it, is best preserved by each -individual State taking care of its own resources, and building up its -own establishments. What a ridiculous business it would be, if -twenty-four families in the same neighborhood, were to act upon the -principle that each was to take care of all the rest in preference to -itself? How will the twenty-four States ever be strong, unless each -State will attend particularly to the developement of its own latent -powers and capacities—unless each will apply its own energies for its -own benefit? Pursue the Governor's doctrine to all its remote -consequences, and see to what absurdities we are driven. The University -of Virginia was a most palpable violation of the courtesy and good -feeling due to our sister States. Besides, according to his Excellency, -would it not have been <i>cheaper</i> to send our sons as usual to -Cambridge, and Princeton, and Yale, rather than incur the enormous -expense of erecting a splendid establishment from the State Treasury? -The University, by the way, furnishes a very strong case, favoring, in -many of the views in which it may be regarded, the positions and -doctrines of Governor Tazewell; yet what Virginian regrets even the -lavish expenditure by which that institution has been endowed?—Who -does not rather rejoice, that in his native State, at the base of -Monticello, the domes of science have been reared, to scatter its light -to the present and future generations?</p> - -<p>The truth is, and most melancholy is the truth, that many of our -leading men in Virginia, perhaps the far greater number, are inclined -to acquiesce in this fatal doctrine of State apathy—this most -paralyzing policy of passive inertness,—whilst the world at large, and -many other portions of the Union, are marching in advance of us, with a -celerity which defies calculation. Governor Tazewell might well have -applied his figure of the bird despoiled of its plumage, to our poor, -old and venerable mother. Her daughters, and sisters, and -brothers—almost the whole family—no doubt with the best intentions in -the world—are practising, in one way or other, on the old lady's kind -feelings and generous principles. Our worthy and excellent friends East -of the Hudson, send us their notions—their long provender, their -vegetables and brooms, and beg us, by all means, to buy them, because -it is <i>cheaper</i> to do so, than to divert our labor from our valuable -staples. They send us also their excellent cottons, and other fabrics -of their looms, which we take liberally, although we have a good deal -of surplus labor, and the finest water power in the Union.—Our near -neighbor and almost twin sister Maryland, is pushing, with a degree of -enterprise which does her credit, her internal improvements into the -heart of our own territory—and we——we have too much grace and -politeness to say to her, that it is rather an intrusion. Our most -filial and amiable daughters to the West, send to us their hogs, horses -and cattle—and we pay them, at least so says the buyer, most -tremendous prices. All these drains from our prosperity, and many more -which might be enumerated, we submit to, with a degree of patience and -composed resignation that even Job might have envied. Our Eagle is -indeed stripped of its plumage, to adorn others more fearless and -adventurous on the wing.</p> - -<p>But to return to the Report. The Governor thinking it probable that the -Legislature might not concur in his views, either to give the whole -subject of a deaf and dumb asylum the go-by, or to adopt the -alternative of sending the indigent pupils into other States, presents -various views touching the management of such institutions—the general -correctness of which we are not disposed to question. At one thing, -however, we are somewhat surprised, and that is, that his Excellency -seems not to have been aware of the existence within this State, of an -incorporated asylum, prepared to go into operation whensoever the -public shall extend its patronage. The Report seems to have been -founded upon a voluminous mass of documents, which are deposited in the -public library, for the use of the Legislature. Not having access to -them, we shall content ourselves with a reference to such others as lay -within our reach, in order to present, in a few strong lights, the -importance and necessity of such an institution in Virginia.</p> - -<p>At the session of 1825-'6, Governor Pleasants communicated to the -Legislature the first annual report of the trustees of the Kentucky -institution, and also the ninth annual report of the Hartford Asylum. -The first mentioned document is particularly important, inasmuch as it -exhibits at once the success which attended a <i>first experiment</i>, under -circumstances extremely disadvantageous. The report of the trustees -made to the Kentucky Legislature was referred to a joint committee of -the two Houses,—who visited the asylum at Danville, and who, among -other things, stated, on their return, "that they were greatly -gratified in witnessing the progress made by the pupils, whose facility -and correctness in comprehending the signs made by the teacher, and -expressing their ideas, exceeded any thing that could have been -anticipated by the most sanguine friends of the institution." They -further state the following extraordinary facts, which ought at once to -dispel all prejudice, and unite all hearts in support of a system of -instruction, attended by such beneficent results. "All those who had -been instructed in the asylum for <small>FOUR MONTHS</small>, <i>wrote good hands, -spelled correctly, and answered promptly and correctly, numerous -questions that were proposed to them by the teacher and members of the -committee</i>." It also appears that the whole number of pupils, at the -end of the first year, was only twenty-one—a number, which, according -to Governor Tazewell's theory, is not sufficient for the purpose of -mutual communion, in their peculiar mode—but which, in the instance -before us, would seem to establish the very reverse of that proposition.</p> - -<p>The report from the Hartford Asylum, which is dated in 1825, is -particularly interesting, as furnishing extraordinary proofs of the -progress of the pupils, both in moral and intellectual attainments. We -think, if Governor Tazewell had been so fortunate as to light upon this -document, he would scarcely have urged as a reason for <i>postponing</i> an -asylum in Virginia, that the science of instructing the deaf mute was -continually advancing, and was likely to be more perfect some years -hence than at present. Doubtless this peculiar and valuable art will -improve, and so will many other branches of knowledge which are even -now in a highly advanced state. Natural history, chemistry, and the -physical sciences generally, are constantly enlarging their boundaries, -and extending their acquisitions—but shall we, on that account, remain -in ignorance of what they <i>now</i> teach, in the vain hope that by and by -they will reach the maximum of perfection? Strange doctrine truly!</p> - -<p>We have already referred to the memorial of the trustees of the -Staunton institution, and the report of the committee of schools and -colleges—both of which interesting papers will be found among the -printed legislative documents of last winter, and ought to be reprinted -for distribution among the members of that body, now in session. We -hope that the Legislature will take the subject into its speedy and -earnest consideration, and that, in the language of the Kentucky -report, they will hearken to the "claims of those whom God, in the -mysterious dispensations of his providence, has deprived of the faculty -of hearing and of speech; of whom an eloquent divine has said, 'silence -like theirs is eloquence.'"</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect03"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<h4>COLONIAL MANNERS.</h4> - -<center>A picture of the House of Burgesses of Maryland in 1766.</center> -<br> -<br> -<p>We have been politely favored with the sight of a letter from <i>an -illustrious philosopher and statesman</i>, written at Annapolis on the -25th May, 1766, to his friend in Virginia, from which we make the -subjoined curious extract. It is no less instructive than amusing to -trace the progress of society from its rude and simple beginnings, to -that more perfect form produced by civilization and refinement. It may -be doubted however, whether the degree of decorum prevailing in the -legislative body of a country, furnishes more than an imperfect index -to the state of public manners. We will venture to assert that in 1766, -the very year when the Burgesses of Maryland are represented as no -better than a "mob," the Colonial Assembly of Virginia exhibited as -fine a picture of gravity and dignity as could be well conceived; and -yet we have no reason to believe that the people of Maryland at that -day were less civilized than their brethren south of the Potomac. -Perfectly aware as we are of the faults of our countrymen, we have -nevertheless always contended that the Virginians are the most -remarkable people in the world for the observance of a certain peculiar -affability towards each other, not only in their public bodies, but in -private intercourse. We mean Virginians of the genuine old stock—not -the new race who have sprung up among us like mushrooms, and are trying -to introduce an awkward imitation of European customs. These latter are -some of them weak enough to think that the sudden acquisition of -fortune, without merit on their part, or a voyage or two to London or -Paris, are of themselves sufficient to constitute a finished gentleman. -Real refinement is founded upon good sense, and upon kindness and good -will towards our fellow man, and never can co-exist with purse-proud -arrogance or conceited vanity.</p> - -<p>In reference to our public assemblies, it is a common remark, and we -have no doubt a just one, that there is more order, decorum and dignity -in the Virginia Legislature, than in the House of Representatives of -the United States. In the latter body the members sit with their hats -on, write letters and read newspapers, whilst one of their members is -addressing the chair, or the speaker is putting the question. Such -disorder is rarely seen in the Capitol of the Old Dominion.</p> - -<blockquote><small>——"I will now give you some account of what I have seen in this -metropolis. The Assembly happens to be sitting at this time; their -upper and lower house as they call them, sit in different houses. I -went into the lower, sitting in an old courthouse, which judging from -its form and appearance, was built in the year one. I was surprised on -approaching it, to hear as great a noise and hubbub as you will usually -observe at a public meeting of the planters in Virginia. The first -object which struck me after my entrance, was the figure of a little -old man, dressed but indifferently, with a yellow queue wig on, and -mounted in the judge's chair. This, the gentleman who walked with me, -informed me was the speaker, a man of a very fair character, but who, -by the by, has very little the air of a speaker. At one end of the -justices' bench stood a man whom in another place I should, from his -dress and phiz, have taken for Goodall the lawyer in Williamsburg, -reading a bill then before the house with a schoolboy tone, and an -abrupt pause at every half dozen words. This I found to be the clerk of -the Assembly. The mob (for such was their appearance) sat covered on -the justices' and lawyers' benches, and were divided into little clubs, -amusing themselves in the common chitchat way. I was surprised to see -them address the speaker without rising from their seats, and three, -four and five at a time, without being checked. When a motion was made, -the speaker, instead of putting the question in the usual form, only -asked the gentlemen whether they chose that such or such a thing should -be done, and was answered by a yes sir, or no sir; and though the -voices appeared frequently to be divided, they never would go to the -trouble of dividing the house; but the clerk entered the resolutions, I -supposed, as he thought proper. In short, every thing seems to be -carried without the house in general knowing what was proposed."</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect04"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>WESTERN SCENERY.</h4> - -<center><small>EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM A WESTERN TRAVELLER.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<p>We had rode about a mile, when my guide said, that if I was willing to -go a hundred yards out of the way, he could show me something worth -seeing. I no sooner assented to this, than he cast around him his keen -woodsman's glance, and then, turning his horse in a direction slightly -diverging from the road, struck into the woods. I followed, and -presently observed that we were pursuing a course nearly parallel to -what seemed to be a precipice, beyond the verge of which I caught -glimpses of a vast extent of country. Without allowing me time to see -any thing distinctly, my guide pushed on, and, spurring to the top of -an Indian barrow, placed himself and me at the desired point of view.</p> - -<p>We were on the spot that overlooks the confluence of Salt River with -the Mississippi. Having once travelled an hundred miles to see the -Natural Bridge, and having heard from Mr. Jefferson that that sight was -worthy of a voyage across the Atlantic, I certainly did not grudge the -price I had paid for the view that opened on me.</p> - -<p>The confluence of the rivers is nearly at right angles. The hill -descends with equal abruptness towards each, and, at first glance, the -apex seems to overhang the water of each. But this is not so. The -descent, perhaps, wants two or three degrees of perpendicularity, and, -at the bottom, there is a narrow border of low-ground, fringing the -banks with lofty trees. The appearance of these trees gave the only -measure of the height of the hill. To the eye they might be bushes. My -guide assured me they were of the tallest growth.</p> - -<p>To the East, across the Mississippi, lay what is called <i>Howard's -bottom</i>. This is, as its name imports, a body of low ground. Its width -is said to be, in some places, not less than six miles, and to be -nearly uniform for a distance of sixty. Of this I could not judge. It -seemed that it might be so. I was nearly opposite the middle of it, and -overlooking the whole. Next the water was a border of the most -luxuriant forest, apparently some half a mile in width, and beyond -this, a Prairie reaching to the foot of the hills, interspersed with -masses of forest, and groves, and stumps, and single trees, among -which, here and there, were glittering glimpses of the <i>Chenaille -ecartee</i>, which traverses the whole length of it. You, who know the -vesture in which nature clothes these fertile plains, need not be told -how rich and soft was the beautiful picture thus spread beneath my -feet. Its <i>setting</i> was not less remarkable. This was a perpendicular -wall of limestone, two or three hundred feet high, which bounds the -valley on the East. An occasional gap, affording an outlet to the -country beyond, alone broke the continuity of this barrier. To the -North, lay the extensive plain through which Salt River winds. I have -no idea of its extent. It is a vast amphitheatre, surrounded by lofty -and richly-wooded hills. The plain itself is of wood and Prairie -interspersed, and so blended, that every tree seems placed for effect.</p> - -<p>You are not to suppose, because I do not launch out in florid -declamation about the beauty, and grandeur, and magnificence, and all -that, of this scene, that it was less striking than you would naturally -suppose it must be. You know that I have neither talent nor taste for -<i>fine writing</i>, so you must take the picture as I give it, and draw on -your own imagination for the garniture. I have said nothing of the -rivers, but to tell you they were there, and flowing through a -landscape of many hundred thousand acres of the richest land on earth, -with the most beautifully variegated surface, all spread out under my -feet. I felt that the scene was sublime; and it is well for your -patience, that I have learned that sublime things are best described in -fewest words. It is certainly the finest I ever saw. There may be -others equal to it, but the earth does not afford <i>room</i> for <i>many</i> -such. What will it be, when it becomes "a living landscape of groves -and corn-fields, and the abodes of men?" As it is, if the warrior, on -whose tomb I stood, could raise his head, he would see it in nothing -changed from what it was when his last sun set upon it.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect05"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THOM'S GROUP OF STATUARY,</h4> - -<h5>FROM BURNS'S TAM O'SHANTER.</h5> -<br> - -<p>These remarkable specimens of sculpture, have been recently exhibited -in this city, and have attracted, we believe, universal admiration. The -artist is a native of Ayrshire, Scotland,—which also gave birth to the -Immortal Bard, whose conceptions are so happily illustrated by the -genius of the sculptor. Not pretending ourselves to any of those -mysterious capabilities, which are claimed by <i>connoiseurs</i> and -<i>amateurs</i>, to judge of the productions of art; we rely upon our simple -perceptions of what is both true and excellent, in their design and -execution. The following is the passage from Burns, which the artist -has chosen in order to give visible and tangible form to the poet's fancy:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem2"> - <tr><td><small> - Ae market night,<br> - Tam had got planted unco right,<br> - Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,<br> - Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;<br> - And at his elbow Souter Johnny,<br> - His ancient trusty, drouthy crony:<br> - Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;<br> - They had been fou for weeks thegither.<br> - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter,<br> - And aye the ale was growin' better:<br> - The landlady and Tam grew gracious,<br> - Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious:<br> - The Souter tauld his queerest stories,<br> - The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:<br> - The storm without might rair and rustle,<br> - Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Never perhaps, as is well observed by a political journal in this city, -was the genius of art so truly impressed upon stone, as in the present -instance,—to represent human bodies in a state of petrifaction. A -reader of Romance, would almost imagine that the wand of enchantment -had passed over the merry group, and had frozen the currents of -life—without disturbing the mirth, enlivened feature, the arch and -humorous look,—or the easy and careless attitudes of nature. We admire -the productions of the great masters of modern times, or, of classical -antiquity—but, whilst we gaze, we never once even <i>imagine</i> that the -promethean spark might have animated the marble. Belonging, as most of -them do, to the <i>ideal</i> schools of sculpture—imbodying all that is -fair and beautiful, in the artist's conception; rather than what is -absolutely true in the visible forms of nature,—they do not strike us -with the same irresistible force, or so instantly seize upon our -feelings—as does the rude, simple, but faithful sculpture of this -unlettered and inexperienced Scottish stone-cutter. Considering that -Mr. Thom was entirely ignorant of the rules of his art,—that he had -not even the advantage of first modelling his productions in -clay,—that the group from Tam O'Shanter is among his first efforts, -and that each of these fine pieces, was hewn at once out of the -shapeless stone, without the power of correcting the mistakes of his -chisel as he proceeded,—the mind is lost in wonder at the vigor and -originality of his genius. Such a man is worthy the birthplace of -Robert Burns,—who little thought whilst he was sketching the -hilarities of the ale-house, that one of his countrymen would so soon -arise to present in the forms and models of a sister art, so fine a -representation of the scene. The following detailed account of the -artist, and of his singularly successful labors, is extracted from an -Edinburg journal. We copy it from "<i>The People's Magazine</i>." It will be -highly interesting to most of our readers:</p> - -<blockquote><small>James Thom, the sculptor of these wonderful figures, is a native of -Ayrshire, and of respectable parentage near Tarbolton. Although, like -those of his countryman and inspirer, his relatives were all engaged in -agricultural pursuits, (his brothers, we understand, possess large -farms,) the young man himself preferred the occupation of a mason, and -was, accordingly, apprenticed to a craftsman in Kilmarnock. This -profession was probably selected as offering the nearest approach to -the undefined workings and predilections of his own inexperienced mind, -since he was not, as in the instance of several sculptors of eminence, -thrown first into the trade of a stone mason by the force of -circumstances. This would appear from his showing little attachment to -the drudgery of the art: accordingly, his first master is understood to -have pronounced him rather a dull apprentice. From the beginning, he -seems to have looked forward to the ornamental part of his calling; and -in a country town where there was little or no opportunity of -employment in that line, to those more immediately concerned, he might -appear less useful than a less aspiring workman. The evidences of young -Thom's diligence and talent at this time, however, still remain in -numerous specimens of carving in stone, which he himself still -considers, we are told, as superior to any thing he has yet done.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>His term of apprenticeship being expired, Mr. Thom repaired to Glasgow -in pursuit of better employment. Here his merits were immediately -perceived, and so well rewarded, that his wages were considerably -higher than the ordinary rate.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>In his present profession, Mr. Thom's career may be dated from the -commencement of the winter of 1827. Being employed at this time in the -immediate neighborhood, he applied to Mr. Auld, of Ayr, who afterwards -proved his steady and judicious friend, for permission to take a sketch -from a portrait of Burns, with the intention of executing a bust of the -poet. This is a good copy of the original picture by Mr. Nasmyth, and -is suspended in the very elegant and classical monument, from a design -by Mr. Hamilton, erected to the memory of the bard, on the banks of the -Doon, near "Allowa's auld haunted kirk." The permission was kindly -granted; doubts, however, being at the same time expressed, how far the -attempt was likely to prove successful, Mr. Thom not being then known -in Ayr. These doubts seemed to be confirmed, on the latter returning -with a very imperfect sketch, taken by placing transparent paper on the -picture. These occurrences happened on the Wednesday, consequently -nothing could be done till Thursday, when materials were to be -procured, and other arrangements made, before the work was absolutely -begun. The surprise then may be conceived, on the artist returning on -the Monday following with the finished bust. In this work, though -somewhat defective as a likeness, the execution, the mechanical -details, and the general effect, were wonderful, especially when viewed -in connexion with the shortness of the time and the disadvantage of -being finished almost from memory—the very imperfect outline, already -mentioned, being the only <i>external</i> guide. It was this general -excellence that encouraged the proposal of a full length figure—a -proposal to which the artist gave his ready assent, stating that he had -wished to undertake something of the kind, but did not consider it -prudent, without any prospect of remuneration, to hazard the expense -both of the block of stone and the loss of time. On this Mr. Auld -offered to procure any stone from the neighboring quarries which the -artist might judge fit for his purpose. Several days elapsed in this -search; in the meantime, the matter was rather laughed at than -encouraged; and some apprehensions of failure, and exposure to -consequent comments, being expressed, "Perhaps," said the artist, -endeavoring to re-assure his friends, "I had just better try my <i>hand</i> -at a <i>head</i>, as a specimen o' Tam." This being agreed to, he returned -to Crosby church-yard, where he was then employed upon a grave-stone. -The day following happened to be one of continued rain; and, finding -that the water filled up his lines; probably, too, thinking more on -"glorious Tam," than on the <i>memento mori</i> he was attempting to -engrave, our artist resolved to take time by the forelock, and to set -about the "specimen head" directly. Accordingly, pulling from the ruins -of the church of Crosby a rabat of the door-way, as a proper material -for his purpose, he sat himself down among the long rank grass covering -the graves, and in that situation actually finished the head before -rising. Nay, more, although the day has been described to us "as a -dounright pour," so total was his absorption in the work—so complete -his insensibility to every thing else, that he declares himself to have -been unconscious of the "rattling showers," from the moment he -commenced. Such is the power of genuine and natural enthusiasm in a -favorite pursuit. This head, which contained perhaps, more expression -than even that of the present figure, decided the matter. Next day, the -block requisite for a full-length of Tam o' Shanter, was brought into -Ayr, a load for four stout horses, and placed in a proper workshop, -within Cromwell's fort.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It may be interesting to mention a few particulars of the manner in -which these figures have been composed and finished.—"Tam" was -selected by the artist as a subject for his chisel. The figure is -understood to bear a strong traditional resemblance to the well-known -Douglass Graham, some forty years ago a renowned specimen of a Carrick -farmer, and who, residing at Shanter, furnished to Burns the prototype -of his hero.</small></blockquote> - -<center><small>—— Souter Johnnie,<br> - His antient, trusty, drouthie cronie—</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>is said to be a striking likeness of a living wight—a cobbler near -Maybole; not that this individual sat for his portraiture, but that the -artist appears to have wrought from the reminiscences of two interviews -with which he was favored, after twice travelling 'some lang Scotch -miles,' in order to persuade the said "souter" to transfer his body, by -means of his pair of soles, from his own to the artist's studio. The -bribe of two guineas a-week, exclusive of "half-mutchkins withouten -score," proved, however, unavailing, and the cobbler remained firm to -the <i>last</i>. By this refusal, "the birkie" has only become poorer by the -said couple of guineas, and certain "half-mutchkins drouthier," for so -true has the eye of the sculptor proved, that every one is said -instantly to recognise the cobbler's phiz and person. A strange -perverseness, indeed, or fatality, or what you will, seems to have -seized upon all the favored few selected as fitting archetypes for -these admirable figures. For, Tam's "nether man" occasioning some -anxiety in the perfecting of its sturdy symmetry, a carter, we believe, -was laid hold of, and the <i>gamashins</i>, being pulled on for -half-an-hour, Tam's <i>right leg</i> was finished in rivalship of the said -gentleman's <i>supporter</i>. It appears to have been agreed upon that he -should return at a fitting opportunity, having thus left Tam -"hirpling:" but, in the interval, the story of the sitting -unfortunately taking <i>air</i>, and the soubriquet of "Tam o' Shanter" -threatening to attach to the lawful and Christian appellations of the -man of carts, no inducement could again bring him within the unhallowed -precincts of our sculptor's work-room. In like manner, though at a -somewhat later period, while the artist was engaged upon the figure of -the landlady, no persuasion could prevail upon one of the many "bonny -lasses" who have given such celebrity to Ayr, to exhibit even the -"fitting of their pearlings" to Mr. Thom's gaze. One sonsy damsel, on -being hard pressed to grant a sitting, replied, "Na, na, I've nae mind -to be nickinamed 'landlady;' and, as for gudewife, twa speerings maun -gang to that name."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It will, doubtless, excite the admiration of every one in the slightest -degree conversant with the Arts, that these figures, so full of life, -ease and character, were thus actually executed without model, or -drawing, or palpable archetype whatsoever. The artist, indeed, knows -nothing of modelling; and so little of drawing, that we question if he -would not find difficulty in making even a tolerable sketch of his own -work. The chisel is his modelling tool—his pencil—the only instrument -of his art, in short, with which he is acquainted, but which he handles -in a manner, we may say, almost unprecedented in the history of -sculpture.—This, however, is the minor part; for we think, nay, are -sure, we discover in this dexterity of hand, in this unerring precision -of eye, in this strong, though still untutored, conception of form and -character—the native elements of the highest art. These primodial -attributes of genius, by proper culture, may do honor to the country -and to their possessor. At all events, instruction will refine and -improve attempts in the present walk of art, even should study be -unable to elevate attainment to a higher. Now, however, it would be not -only premature, but unjust, to criticise these statues as regular -labors of sculpture. They are to be regarded as wonderful, nay, almost -miraculous, efforts of native, unaided, unlearned talent—as an -approach to truth almost in spite of nature and of science; but they do -not hold with respect to legitimate sculpture—the high-souled, the -noblest, the severest of all arts—the same rank as, in painting, the -works of the Dutch masters do as compared with the lofty spirits of the -Romans—precisely for this reason, that while similar subjects are not -only fit, but often felicitous, subjects for the pencil, they are -altogether improper objects of sculptural representation.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Though, from the circumstance of being the principals in the -composition, and from the intrinsic excellence of their conception, -these two figures have chiefly occupied the public attention, they -ought not to induce forgetfulness of the artist's other labors. These, -besides the Landlord and his mate, consist of several<small><sup>1</sup></small> copies, in -various sizes, of this original group, and of numerous sculptures, of -different character and purpose, from a "head-stane" upwards, executed -by Mr. Thom, since his residence in Ayr as a professional stone-cutter. -Here his studio is the resort of all intelligent strangers who visit -this ancient and beautiful burgh; while his modest manners, and moral -worth have conciliated the respect of every one. The character of the -Landlady is well sustained, as the buxom bustling head of a well -frequented "change-house." Her lord and master, on the other hand, is -represented as one who has little to say in his own house, and better -qualified to drink, than to earn his pint. The former seems by no means -disinclined to reciprocate glances with Tam; while the latter is so -convulsed with laughter at the Souter's stories, as to be hardly -capable of maintaining the equipoise of the foaming tankard in his -hand. Neither, however, is equal in graphic truth and humor to their -two companions. A more gigantic, but by no means so happy a work, is -the statue of the Scottish patriot, lately placed in the niche of the -New Tower, just erected in Ayr, on the site of the ancient "Wallace -Tower" of Burns. In fact, we regard this figure as nearly a failure. It -possesses neither the truth of nature, nor the dignity of ideal -representation. Omitting others of less moment, we shall pass to the -most perfect of all Mr. Thom's works—the figure of "Old Mortality." -This, though only a model, and not yet, we believe, even commissioned -in stone, offers by far the most striking evidence of genius in its -author.<small><sup>2</sup></small> The costume, attitude, and expression of the old man, as he -is represented sitting upon a grave-stone, which he has been occupied -in cleaning, are most admirable; and perhaps no artist ever more -completely realized the exquisite conception of the original mind. The -history of this composition supplies a striking instance of the power -of genius over spirits of a congenial stamp, and of the singular -coincidences which sometimes take place in its manner of conceiving the -same sentiment. During a voyage to London, in a Leith steam packet, Mr. -Thom one day found in the cabin, Sir Walter's delightful tale of Old -Mortality, which he had never read. Taking it up, he quickly became -entirely engrossed in the narrative. The description of the old man, to -whom posterity is indebted for many a record, else lost, of our -single-minded sufferers for conscience' sake—so fixed itself upon the -artist's imagination, that he instantly conceived the idea of -representing it in sculpture. By way of concentrating his thoughts, he -sketched a figure in the imagined attitude, on one of the boards of the -book he had been reading. Pleased with his idea, he transferred it to -his pocket-book. A few days after his arrival in London, he was -introduced to our celebrated countryman, Wilkie, who, with his -accustomed kindness, showed him his portfolios. Mr. Thom's surprise may -be imagined, when in one of these he found a sketch of Old Mortality, -almost identical with his own, executed by Wilkie several years before. -The same thought had struck both, and almost in the same manner.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> There are now five sets; three of which are the size of -life, and two, four and twenty inches high. One set is, or is to be -deposited at the temple called the tomb of Burns, in Ayrshire.—Another -belongs to Lord Cassili. The third is in this country.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Since the above has been published, Thom has nearly -finished his Old Mortality in a block too small for his conception, and -which will oblige him to execute an entirely new figure.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect06"></a> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>[We extract the following affecting story from the "<i>Western Monthly -Magazine</i>." Though written in the form of romantic narrative, it -presents one of the strongest cases we recollect to have seen, in which -innocence is overborne by powerful but false appearances of guilt. It -is certainly a strong illustration of the danger of convicting a fellow -creature, upon what is technically called <i>presumptive evidence</i>, a -topic upon which the gentlemen of the bar are furnished with as wide a -field for the display of professional ingenuity, as upon any other in -the whole compass of jurisprudence. That it is often safe, and -indispensably necessary however to rely upon such kind of evidence, is -so obvious in itself—and so well established as a legal maxim—that -the danger of sometimes convicting, upon a train of specious but -deceptive circumstances, is less than the evil of acquittal in the -absence of positive, conclusive, and infallible testimony.]</small></blockquote> - -<h4>CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.</h4> - -<center><small>A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT.</small></center> -<br><br> -<p>The circumstances which I am about to relate, are familiar to many now -living. In some particulars I have varied from the truth; but if in the -relation of an event which excited intense interest, at the time of its -occurrence, I shall succeed in impressing upon any one, the delusive -character of circumstantial evidence, my object will be attained.</p> - -<p>Beneath the magnificent sycamores which bordered a lovely stream in the -southwest part of Kentucky, a company of emigrants had pitched their -encampment, for the night. The tents were set up, the night-fire threw -its gleam upon the water, the weary horses were feeding, the evening -repast was over, and preparations were made for repose. The party -consisted of three brothers, with their families, who were wending -their way to the new lands of the distant Missouri. On their visages, -where the ague had left the sallow traces of its touch, few of the -nobler traits of the human character were visible. Accustomed to reside -upon the outskirts of society, little versed in its forms, and as -little accustomed to the restraints of law, or the duties of morality, -they were the fit pioneers of civilization, because their frames were -prepared for the utmost endurance of fatigue, and society was purified -by their removal. Theirs were not the fearless independence, and frank -demeanor which marks the honest backwoodsman of our country; but the -untamed license, and the wiley deportment of violent men, who loved not -the salutary influence of the law, nor mingled of choice with the -virtuous of their own species.</p> - -<p>As they stirred the expiring fires, the column of light, mingled with -the smoke and cinder, that rose towards the clear sky of the mild May -night, revealed two travellers of a different appearance, who had -encamped on the margin of the same stream. One was a man of thirty. -Several years passed in the laborious practice of medicine, in a -southern climate, had destroyed his constitution, and he had come to -breathe the bracing air of a higher latitude. The wing of health had -fanned into new vigor the waning fires of life, and he was now -returning to the home of his adoption with a renovated frame. The young -man who sat by him, was a friend, to whom he had paid a visit, and who -was now attending him, a short distance, on his journey. They had -missed their way, and reluctantly accepted a sullen permission of the -emigrants to share their coarse fare, rather than wander in the dark, -through unknown forests. Hamilton, the younger of the two, was, -perhaps, twenty-seven years of age—and was a young gentleman of -prepossessing appearance, of cultivated mind, and of a chivalrous and -sensitive disposition. His parents were indigent, and he had, by the -energy of his own talents and industry, redeemed them from poverty, and -placed them in easy circumstances. In one of his commercial expeditions -down the Mississippi, he had met with Saunders, the physician. An -intimacy ensued, which though brief, had already ripened into mature -friendship.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem3"> - <tr><td><small>'Affection knoweth nought of time,<br> - It riseth like the vernal flowers;<br> - The heart pulse is its only chime,<br> - And feelings are its hours.'</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Together they had hunted over the flowery barrens, and through the -majestic forests of their native state—had scaled the precipice, and -swam the torrent—had explored the cavern, and visited whatever was -wonderful or curious in the region around them; and both looked -forward, with painful feelings, to the termination of an intercourse -which had been pleasing and instructive.—As they were to separate in -the morning, the evening was spent in conversation—in that copious and -involuntary flow of kindness and confidence which the heart pours out -at the moment when friends are about to sever, when the past is -recalled and the future anticipated, and friendship no longer silent, -nor motionless, displays itself like the beauty of the ocean wave, -which is most obvious at the moment of its dissolution.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning, the two friends prepared to pursue their journey. -As they were about to depart, one of the emigrants advanced towards -them, and remarked:</p> - -<p>'I reckon, strangers, you allow to encamp at Scottville to-night?'</p> - -<p>'Yes,' said Saunders, 'I do.'</p> - -<p>'Well, then, I can tell you a chute, that's a heap shorter than the -road you talk of taking—and at the forks of Rushing river, there's a -smart chance of blue clay, that's miry like, and it's right scary -crossing at times.'</p> - -<p>Supposing they had found a nearer and better road, and one by which a -dangerous ford would be avoided, they thanked their informant, and -proceeded on their journey.</p> - -<p>In some previous conversations, Saunders had learned, that his friend -had recently experienced some heavy losses, and was at this time much -pressed for money, and wishing to offer him assistance, had from time -to time deferred it, from the difficulty of approaching so delicate a -subject. As the time of parting approached, however, he drew the -conversation to that point, and was informed that the sum of five -hundred dollars, would relieve his friend from embarrassment. Having a -large sum in his possession, he generously tendered him the amount -required, and Hamilton, after some hesitation, accepted the loan, and -proposed to give his note for its repayment, which Saunders declined, -under the plea that the whole transaction was a matter of friendship, -and that no such formality was requisite. When they were about to part, -Hamilton unclasped his breast-pin, and presented it to his friend. 'Let -this,' said he, 'remind you sometimes of Kentucky—I trust, that when I -visit you next year, I shall not see it adorning the person of some -favored fair one.' 'I have not so much confidence in you,' laughingly -returned the other; and, handing him a silver-hafted penknife curiously -embossed, 'I am told that knives and scissors are not acceptable -presents to the fair, as they are supposed to cut love, so I have no -fear that Almira will get this—and I know that no other human being -would cause you to forget your friend.' They then parted.</p> - -<p>As Hamilton was riding slowly homeward, engaged in thought, and holding -his bridle loosely, a deer sprang suddenly from a thicket, and fell in -the road, before his horse, who started and threw him to the ground. In -examining the deer, which had been mortally wounded, and was still -struggling, some of the blood was sprinkled on his dress, which had -been otherwise soiled by his fall. Paying little attention to these -circumstances, he returned home.</p> - -<p>Though his absence had been brief, many hands grasped his in cordial -welcome, many eyes met his own in love, for few of the young men of the -county were so universally beloved, and so much respected as Hamilton. -But to none was his return so acceptable as to Almira ——. She had -been his playmate in infancy, his schoolmate in childhood, in maturer -years their intimacy had ripened into love, and they were soon to be -united in the holiest and dearest of ties. But the visions of hope were -soon to pass from before them, as the <i>mirage</i> of the desert, that -mocks the eye of the thirsty traveller, and then leaves him a -death-devoted wanderer on the arid waste.</p> - -<p>A vague report was brought to the village, that the body of a murdered -man was found near Scottville. It was first mentioned by a traveller, -in a company where Hamilton was present; and he instantly exclaimed, -'no doubt it is Saunders—how unfortunate that I left him!' and then -retired under great excitement. His manner and expressions awakened -suspicion, which was unhappily corroborated by a variety of -circumstances, that were cautiously whispered by those, who dared not -openly arraign a person whose whole conduct through life had been -honest, frank, and manly. He had ridden away with Saunders, who was -known to have been in possession of a large sum of money. Since his -return, he had paid off debts to a considerable amount. The penknife of -Saunders was recognized in his hands—yet none were willing, on mere -surmise, to hazard a direct accusation.</p> - -<p>The effect of the intelligence upon Hamilton was marked. The sudden -death of a dear friend is hard to be supported—but when one who is -loved and esteemed, is cut off by the dastardly hand of the assassin, -the pang of bereavement becomes doubly great, and in this instance, the -feelings of deep gratitude which Hamilton felt towards his benefactor, -caused him to mourn over the catastrophe, with a melancholy anguish. He -would sit for hours in a state of abstraction, from which even the -smile of love could not awaken him.</p> - -<p>The elections were at hand; and Hamilton was a candidate for the -legislature. In the progress of the canvass, the foul charge was openly -made, and propagated with the remorseless spirit of party animosity. -Yet he heard it not, until one evening as he sate with Almira, in her -father's house. They were conversing in low accents, when the sound of -an approaching footstep interrupted them, and the father of Almira -entered the room. 'Mr. Hamilton,' said he, 'I am a frank man—I -consented to your union with my daughter, believing your character to -be unstained—but I regret to hear that a charge has been made against -you, which, if true, must render you amenable to the laws of your -country. I believe it to be a fabrication of your enemies—but, until -it shall be disproved, and your character as a man of honor, placed -above suspicion, you must be sensible that the proposed union cannot -take place, and that your visits to my house must be discontinued.'</p> - -<p>'What does my father mean?' inquired the young lady, anxiously, as her -indignant parent retired.</p> - -<p>'I do not know,' replied the lover, 'it is some electioneering story, -no doubt, which I can easily explain. I only regret that it should give -him, or you, a moment's uneasiness.'</p> - -<p>'It shall cause me none,' replied the confiding girl: 'I cannot believe -any evil of you.'</p> - -<p>He retired—sought out the nature of the charge, and to his -inexpressible astonishment and horror, learned that he was accused of -the murder and robbery of his friend! In a state little short of -distraction, he retired to his room, recalled with painful minuteness -all the circumstances connected with the melancholy catastrophe, and -for the first time, saw the dangerous ground on which he stood. But -proud in conscious innocence, he felt that to withdraw at that stage of -the canvass, might be construed into a confession of guilt. He remained -a candidate, and was beaten. Now, for the first time, did he feel the -wretchedness of a condemned and degraded man. The tribunal of public -opinion had pronounced against him the sentence of conviction; and even -his friends, as the excitement of the party struggle subsided, became -cold in his defence, and wavering in their belief of his innocence. -Conscious that the eye of suspicion was open, and satisfied that -nothing short of a public investigation could restore him to honor, the -unhappy young man surrendered himself to the civil authority, and -demanded a trial. Ah! little did he know the malignity of man, or the -fatal energy of popular delusion! He reflected not that when the public -mind is imbued with prejudice, even truth itself ceases to be mighty. -Many believed him guilty, and those who, during the canvass, had -industriously circulated the report, now labored with untiring -diligence to collect and accumulate the evidence which should sustain -their previous assertions. But arrayed in the panoply of innocence, he -stood firm, and confident of acquittal. The best counsel had been -engaged—and on the day of trial, Hamilton stood before the assembled -county—an arraigned culprit in the presence of those before whom he -had walked in honor from childhood.</p> - -<p>As the trial proceeded, the confidence of his friends diminished, and -those who had doubted, became confirmed in the belief of the prisoner's -guilt. Trifles light as air became confirmations strong as proofs of -Holy Writ to the jealous minds of the audience, and one fact was linked -to another in curious coincidence, until the chain of corroborating -circumstances seemed irresistibly conclusive. His recent intimacy with -the deceased, and even the attentions which friendship and hospitality -had dictated, were ingeniously insisted upon as evidences of a -deliberate plan of wickedness—long formed and gradually developed. The -facts, that he had accompanied the deceased on his way—that he had -lost the path in a country with which he was supposed to be -familiar—his conduct on hearing of the death of his friend—the -money—the knife—caused the most incredulous to tremble for his fate. -But when the breast-pin of Hamilton, found near the body of the -murdered man, was produced—and a pistol, known to have been that of -the prisoner, was proved to have been picked up near the same spot—but -little room was left, even for charity to indulge a benevolent doubt. -Nor was this all—the prosecution had still another witness—the pale -girl who sate by him, clasping his hand in hers, was unexpectedly -called upon to rise and give testimony. She shrunk from the unfeeling -call, and buried her face in her brother's bosom. That blow was not -anticipated—for none but the cunning myrmidons of party vengeance, who -had even violated the sanctuary of family confidence, in search of -evidence, dreamed that any criminating circumstance was in the -possession of this young lady. At the mandate of the court, she arose, -laid aside her veil, and disclosed a face haggard with anxiety and -terror. In low tremulous accents, broken with sobs, she reluctantly -deposed, that the clothes worn by her brother, on his return from that -fatal journey, were torn, soiled with earth, and bloody! An audible -murmur ran through the crowd, who were listening in breathless -silence—the prisoner bowed his head in mute despair—the witness was -borne away insensible—the argument proceeded, and after an eloquent, -but vain defence, the jury brought in a verdict of <i>guilty!</i> The -sentence of <i>death</i> was passed.</p> - -<p> * - * - * - * - *</p> - -<p>The summer had passed away. The hand of autumn had begun to tinge with -mellow hues the magnificent scenery of the forest. It was evening, and -the clear moonbeams were shining through the grates of the prisoner's -cell. The unhappy man, haggard, attenuated, and heart-broken, was lying -upon his wretched pallet, reflecting alternately upon the early wreck -of his bright hopes, the hour of ignominy that was just approaching, -and the dread futurity into which he should soon be plunged. It was the -season at which his marriage with Almira was to have been solemnized. -With what pride and joy had he looked forward to this hour! And now, -instead of the wedding festivities, the lovely bride, and the train of -congratulating friends, so often pictured in fancy, he realized -fetters, a dungeon, and a disgraceful death! The well-known tread of -the jailer interrupted the bitter train of thought. The door opened, -and as the light streamed from a lantern across the cell, he saw a -female form timidly approaching. In a moment Almira had sunk on her -knees beside him, and their hands were silently clasped together. There -are occasions when the heart spurns all constraint, and acts up to its -own dictates, careless of public opinion, or prescribed forms—when -love becomes the absorbing and overruling passion—and when that which -under other circumstances would be mere unlicensed impulse, becomes a -hallowed and imperious duty. That noble-hearted girl had believed to -the last, that her lover would be honorably acquitted. The intelligence -of his condemnation, while it blighted her hopes, and withered her -health, never disturbed for one moment her conviction of his innocence. -There is an union of hearts which is indestructible, which marriage may -sanction, and nourish, and hallow, but which separation cannot -destroy—a love that endures while life remains, or until its object -shall prove faithless or unworthy. Such was the affection of Almira; -and she held her promise to love and honor him, whose fidelity to her -was unspotted, and whose character she considered honorable, to be as -sacred, as if they had been united in marriage. When all others -forsook, she resolved never to forsake him. She had come to visit him -in his desolation, and to risk all, to save one who was dear and -innocent in her estimation, though guilty in the eyes of the world.</p> - -<p>The jailer, a blunt, though humane man, briefly disclosed a plan, which -he, with Almira, had devised, for the escape of Hamilton. He had -consented to allow the prisoner to escape, in female dress, while she -was to remain in his stead, so that the whole contrivance should seem -to be her own. 'I am a plain man,' concluded the jailer, 'but I know -what's right. It 'aint fair to hang no man on suspicion—and more than -that, I am not agoing to stand in no man's way—especially a friend who -has done me favors, as you have. I go in for giving every fellow a fair -chance. The track's clear, Mr. Hamilton, and the quicker you put out, -the better.'</p> - -<p>To his surprise, the prisoner peremptorily refused the offer.</p> - -<p>'I am innocent,' said he; 'but I would suffer a thousand deaths rather -than injure the fair fame of this confiding girl.'</p> - -<p>'Go, Dudley—my dear Dudley,' she sobbed: 'for my sake, for the sake of -your broken-hearted father and sister—'</p> - -<p>'Do not tempt me—my dear Almira. I will not do that which would expose -you to disgrace.'</p> - -<p>'Oh, who would blame me?'</p> - -<p>'The world—the uncharitable world—they who believe me a murderer, and -have tortured the most innocent actions into proofs of deliberate -villainy, will not hesitate to brand you as the victim of a -cold-blooded felon. And why should I fly? to live a wretched wanderer, -with the brand of Cain on my forehead, and a character stamped with -infamy?'—</p> - -<p>He would have said more—but the form, that during this brief dialogue, -had sunk into his arms, was lying lifeless on his bosom. He kissed her -cold lips, and passionately repeated her name—but she heard him -not—her pure spirit had gently disengaged itself, and was flown -forever. Her heart was broken. She had watched, and wept, and prayed, -in hopeless grief, until the physical energies of a delicate frame were -exhausted: and the excitement of the last scene had snapped the -attenuated thread of life.</p> - -<p>Hamilton did not survive her long. His health was already shattered by -long confinement, and the chaffing of a proud spirit. Almira had died -for him—and his own mother—oh! how cautiously did they whisper the -sad truth, when he asked why <i>she</i> who loved him better than her own -life, had forsaken him in the hour of affliction—she, too, had sunk -under the dreadful blow. His father lived a withered, melancholy man, -crushed in spirit; and as his sister hung like a guardian angel over -his death-bed, and he gazed at her pale, emaciated, sorrow-stricken -countenance, he saw that she, too, would soon be numbered among the -victims of this melancholy persecution. When, with his last breath, he -suggested that they would soon meet, she replied: 'I trust that God -will spare me to see your innocence established, and then will I die -contented.' And her confidence was rewarded—for God does not -disappoint those who put their trust in him. About a year afterwards, a -wretch, who was executed at Natchez, and who was one of the three -persons named in the commencement of this narrative, confessed that he -had murdered Saunders, with a pistol which he had found at the place -where the two friends had slept. 'I knew it would be so,'—was the -only reply of the fast declining sister—and soon after she was buried -by the side of Dudley and Almira.—Reader, this is not fiction—nor are -the decisions of God unjust—but his ways are above our comprehension.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>EMILLION. </small></div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect07"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LAW LECTURE AT WILLIAM AND MARY.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>A Lecture on the Study of the Law; being an Introduction to a course of -lectures on that subject, in the College of William and Mary, by -Beverley Tucker, Professor of Law.—Richmond: T. W. White. Nov. 1834.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<blockquote><small>It is impossible for a Virginian not to feel an interest in old William -and Mary. Recollecting the many able men who have been nurtured within -its walls, and signalized as lawyers, legislators and statesmen, we -cannot but feel gratified at every effort in its behalf that promises -to be of use. From the time of Judge Semple's last appointment as Judge -of the General Court, until the month of July, the law chair had -remained vacant. A vacancy in so important a department continuing for -so long a period, could not fail to be prejudicial to the institution. -It was in vain that the other professorships were ably filled. The -circumstance of the lectures in the law department being suspended, -made many fear that the other professorships would one by one share the -same fate—that this vacancy was but a precursor to others—that a -failure to fill this would be followed by like failures hereafter—and -that in a few years the doors of this venerable pile would be closed. -These inferences are strengthened by the fact, that a very important -professorship (the professorship of mathematics) had formerly been -permitted to remain vacant for even a longer period than that which is -the subject of these brief reflections. With such anticipations, it is -no wonder that every class has latterly been characterized by the -smallness of its numbers.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Board of Visiters, at their meeting in July, resolved that the -vacancy should continue no longer, and conferred the appointment of law -professor upon Beverley Tucker. Mr. Tucker is well known as a writer -upon constitutional questions, and his appointment to the bench of -another state, after a short residence in it, affords evidence of the -estimation in which his legal attainments were there held. The same -professorship to which <i>he</i> is now appointed, was filled many years ago -by his father <i>St. George Tucker</i>, whose edition of Blackstone's -Commentaries, and subsequent appointment first in the state and then in -the federal judiciary, have given him a reputation with members of the -bar throughout the Union.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The letter and answer which precede the introductory lecture of -Professor Tucker, sufficiently explain the circumstances under which -that lecture is published.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<div align="right"><small><i>Williamsburg, October 27, -1834.</i> </small></div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Dear Sir:</i>—The students of William and Mary, highly gratified by your -able and eloquent address, delivered before them this day, have held a -special meeting, and by unanimous vote adopted the following -resolution:</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><i>Resolved</i>, (At a meeting of the students in the large lecture room on -the 27th inst.) That a committee be appointed to address a note to -Professor Tucker, for the purpose of expressing their admiration of the -able and interesting lecture which he has this day delivered, -introductory to his course on law, and to solicit the same for -publication.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We hope for your assent to this request, and in performing this -agreeable duty, we tender you our sentiments of respect and esteem.</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="8" summary="signatories"> - <tr><td> <small>JNO. W. DEW</small>,<br> - <small>WM. T. FRENCH</small>,</td> - <td><small>CHAS. H. KENNEDY</small>, <br> - <small>JOHN MURDAUGH</small>,</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small><i>Committee</i>. </small></div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Professor Tucker</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<div align="right"><small><i>Williamsburg, October 28, -1834.</i> </small></div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Gentlemen:</i>—I acknowledge the receipt of your polite note, and am -happy to comply with the request which it conveys. Identified with the -College of William and Mary by the early recollections and warm -affections of youth, I have nothing so much at heart as a desire to be -found worthy to aid in restoring that venerable institution to all its -former prosperity and usefulness. Your approbation is dear to me, as -encouraging a hope that my efforts may not be unavailing. If I shall be -so fortunate as to send out into the world but one more, to be added to -the list of illustrious men, who are every where found upholding, with -generous, devoted and enlightened zeal, the free institutions inherited -from our fathers, in their true spirit, I shall have my reward. If I -can succeed in impressing on my class the conviction, that freedom has -its duties, as well as its rights, and can only be preserved by the -faithful discharge of those duties, I shall have my reward. If I can do -no more than to furnish to the profession members devoted to its -duties, and qualified to sustain its high character for intelligence -and integrity, by diligence and fidelity even in its humblest walks, I -shall still have my reward. In either case I shall have rendered -valuable service, to you, to this venerable institution, to this scene -of my earliest, happiest and best days, and to Virginia—my mother—the -only country to which my heart has ever owned allegiance. Far as my -feet have wandered from her soil, my affections have always cleaved to -her, and as the faithful mussulman, in every clime, worships with his -face towards the tomb of his prophet, so has my heart ever turned to -her, alive to all her interests, jealous of her honor, resentful of her -wrongs, partaking in all her struggles, exulting in her triumphs, and -mourning her defeats. May she again erect herself to her former proud -attitude and walk before the children of liberty in the pathless desert -where they now wander, as a "cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>For yourselves, gentlemen, and those whom you represent, be pleased to -accept my acknowledgments for the compliment implied in your -application. I would ask you to accept the expression of another -sentiment, if I knew how to express it. Returning to Williamsburg after -an absence commencing in early life, the long and dreary interval seems -obliterated. I find myself remitted at once to the scenes and to the -feelings of youth. It would seem more natural to me to come among you -as a companion than as an instructer. But this may not be much amiss. -My business is with your <i>heads</i>, but the road to them is through the -<i>heart</i>, and if I can only bring you to understand and reciprocate my -feelings, there will be nothing wanting to facilitate the communication -of any instruction I may be capable of bestowing.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I remain, gentlemen, with high regard, your friend and obedient -servant,</small></blockquote> - -<div align="right"><small>B. -TUCKER. </small></div> - -<blockquote><small>To <i>Messrs. J. W. Dew, John Murdaugh, Wm. T. French, and Chs. H. -Kennedy</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> -<br> -<p>Y<small>OUNG</small> G<small>ENTLEMEN</small>:</p> - -<p>I gladly avail myself of an established custom, to offer some remarks -on the mutual relation into which we have just entered, and the studies -which will occupy our attention during the ensuing course.</p> - -<p>This day is to you the commencement of the most important ćra of life. -You have heretofore been engaged in studies, for the most part useful, -but sometimes merely ornamental or amusing. The mind, it is true, can -hardly fail to improve, by the exertion necessary to the acquisition of -knowledge of any kind, even as the athletic sports of the boy harden -and prepare the body for the labors of the man. But, in many -particulars, what you have heretofore learned may be of little -practical value in the business of life; and your past neglects may -perhaps be attended with no loss of prosperity or respectability in -future. Some of you are probably acquainted with sciences of which -others are ignorant; but are not for that reason any better prepared -for the new course of studies on which you are about to enter. Nor will -such knowledge necessarily afford its possessors any advantage at the -bar, or in the senate, or on any of the arenas, where the interests of -individuals and nations are discussed, and the strifes of men decided. -But the time is now past with you, young gentlemen, when you can lose a -moment, or neglect an opportunity of improvement, without a lasting and -irreparable detriment to yourselves. You this day put on the <i>toga -virilis</i>, and enter on the <i>business of life</i>. This day you commence -those studies on which independence, prosperity, respectability, and -the comfort and happiness of those who will be dearest to you, must -depend. For, trust me, these things mainly depend on excellence in the -profession or occupation, whatever it may be, which a man chooses as -the business of his life. The humblest mechanic will derive more of all -these good things from diligence and proficiency in his trade, than he -possibly can from any knowledge unconnected with it.</p> - -<p>This, which is true of all occupations, is most emphatically true of -that which you have chosen. To be eminent in <i>our</i> profession is to -hold a place among the great ones of the earth; and they, who devote -themselves to it, have the rare advantage of treading the path which -leads to the highest objects of honorable ambition, even while walking -the round of daily duties, and providing for the daily wants of private -life. The history of our country is full of proof that the bar is the -road to eminence; and I beg you to remark how few of its members have -attained to this eminence in public life, without having been first -distinguished in the profession. To win <i>its</i> honors, and to wear them -worthily, is to attain an elevation from which all other honors are -accessible: but to turn aside disgusted with its labors, is to lose -this vantage ground, and to sink again to the dead level of the common -mass. You should therefore learn to look on the profession of your -choice, as the source from whence are to flow all the comforts, the -honors, and the happiness of life. Let it be as a talisman, in which, -under God, you put your trust, assuring yourselves that whatever you -seek by means of it you will receive.</p> - -<p>I have the more naturally fallen into these remarks, as they are in -some sort suggested, and are certainly justified by the history of this -institution. If you trace back the lives of the men, who at this moment -occupy the most enviable pre-eminence in your native state, you will -find that they received the rudiments of their professional and -political education at this venerable but decayed seminary. There are -certainly distinguished members of the profession, and illustrious men -out of the profession, to whom this remark does not apply. But when -Virginia (<i>Magna Parens Virum</i>,) is called on to show her jewels, to -whom does she more proudly point than to men who once occupied those -very seats; who here received the first impulse in their career; who -here commenced that generous strife for superiority which has placed -them all so high.</p> - -<p>The subject of our researches, young gentlemen, will be the municipal -law of Virginia. The text book which will be placed in your hands is -the American edition of Blackstone's Commentaries, published thirty -years ago by one of my predecessors in this chair. You will readily -believe that it would be my pride to walk, with filial reverence by the -lights which he has given us, and that, in doing so, I should feel -secure of escaping any harsh animadversion from those to whom I am -responsible, and who still cherish so favorable a recollection of his -services. I shall certainly endeavor to avail myself of this privilege; -though it may be occasionally necessary to assume a more perilous -responsibility. A brief sketch of the plan which I propose to myself, -will show you how far I shall follow, and wherein, and why, I shall -deviate from the path which he has traced.</p> - -<p>Municipal law is defined by Mr. Blackstone, "to be a rule of civil -conduct prescribed by the supreme power of the state." By Justinian it -is said, "<i>Id quod quisque populus sibi jus constituit, vocatur jus -civile:</i>" which has been well rendered thus: "It is the system of rules -of civil conduct which any state has ordained for itself."</p> - -<p>Whatever definition we adopt, we shall find that municipal law is -distinguishable into four grand divisions, which may be properly -designated by the following description:</p> - -<p>1. That which regulates the nature and form of the body politic; which -establishes the relation that each individual bears to it, and the -rights and duties growing out of that relation, which determines the -principles on which it exercises authority over him; and settles a -system of jurisprudence by which it operates to protect and enforce -right, and to redress and punish wrong.</p> - -<p>2. That which determines the relations of individual members of society -to each other; which defines the rights growing out of that relation; -and regulates the right of property, and such personal rights as must -subsist even in a state of nature.</p> - -<p>3. That which defines the wrongs that may be done by one individual -member of society to another, in prejudice of his rights, whether of -person or property, and provides means for preventing or redressing -such wrongs.</p> - -<p>4. That which defines and denounces the wrongs which may be done by any -individual member of society, in violation of the duties growing out of -his relation to the body politic, and provides means for preventing and -punishing such violation.</p> - -<p>The first of these divisions is treated by Mr. Blackstone in his first -book, under the comprehensive head of "The Rights of Persons." Under -the same head he includes so much of the second division as relates to -such personal rights as must have belonged to man in a state of nature, -and such as grow out of his relation to other individual members of -society. Such are the <i>relative</i> rights of husband and wife, parent and -child, guardian and ward, and master and servant—and the <i>absolute</i> -rights, of personal liberty, and of security to life, limb and -reputation. These rights are obviously not the creatures of civil -society, however they may be regulated and modified by municipal law. -They in no wise depend on "the nature or form of the body politic;" nor -on "the relations which individuals bear to it;" nor on "the rights and -duties growing out of that relation;" nor on "the principles on which -it exercises authority over individuals;" nor on "the system of -jurisprudence."</p> - -<p>As little indeed do they depend on "the rights of property," but they -have much in common with them. Together with them, they collectively -form the mass of "individual rights," as contradistinguished from -"political rights." Neither class derives its existence from civil -society, although both are alike liable to be regulated by it, and the -two together form the subject of almost all controversies between man -and man. Now with rights in actual and peaceable enjoyment, law has -nothing to do. It is controversy which calls it into action; and as -both this class of personal rights, and the rights of property, have -the same common origin—both subsisting by titles paramount to the -constitutions of civil society; as both are the ordinary subjects of -controversy between individuals; and as these controversies are all -conducted according to similar forms, decided by the same tribunals, -and adjusted by the like means,—it is found convenient to arrange them -together in a course of instruction. Such I believe has always been the -practice in this institution. Proposing to conform to it, I have -thought it best, in the outset, to intimate this slight difference -between this practice and Mr. Blackstone's arrangement.</p> - -<p>There is another particular in which Mr. Blackstone's order of -instruction has been advantageously changed at this place. His is -certainly the true <i>philosophical</i> arrangement of the subject. When we -are told that "municipal law is a rule of civil conduct prescribed by -the supreme power in the state," it is obvious to ask, "what is that -supreme power, and whence comes its supremacy?" When we are told that -it is "the system of rules of civil conduct, which the state has -ordained for itself," the first inquiry is, "what is the state?" Thus -whatever definition of municipal law we adopt, the subject of inquiry -that meets us at the threshold is the <i>Lex Legum;</i> the law which endues -the municipal law itself with authority.</p> - -<p>If the individual to be instructed were one who had heretofore lived -apart from law and government, yet capable (if such a thing were -possible) of understanding the subject, it is here we ought to -commence. To him it would be indispensable to explain, in the first -instance, the structure of the body politic; to specify the rights -surrendered by individuals; and to set before him the equivalent -privileges received in exchange. <i>We</i> too might be supposed to require -a like exposition before we would be prepared to submit to the severe -restraints and harsh penalties of <i>criminal</i> law. But in regard to -controversies between individuals we feel no such jealousies. In these, -the law, acting but as an arbiter, indifferent between the parties, no -question concerning its authority occurs to the mind. The readiness -with which we acquiesce in its decisions, is strikingly manifested in -the fact, that the whole of England, Ireland and the United States are, -for the most part, governed by a law which has no voucher for its -authority but this acquiescence. The same thing may be said of the -authority of the civil law on the continent of Europe. It thus appears -that the mind does not always require to be informed of the origin of -the law which regulates and enforces, or protects individual rights, -before it will condescend to inquire what are its behests. <i>Prima -facie</i> it should be so; but being, in point of fact, born in the midst -of law, habituated to it from our infancy, and accustomed to witness -uniform obedience to its authority on the part of those whom we were -taught to obey, we learn to regard it as a thing <i>in rerum natura</i>, -rather than of human invention; a sort of moral atmosphere, which, like -that we breathe, seems a very condition of our existence.</p> - -<p>There is therefore no inconvenience to be apprehended from taking up -the subject in an inverted order, treating first of individual rights, -and reserving those that grow out of the relation of the citizen to the -body politic, and the correlative duties of that relation, for future -inquiry.</p> - -<p>While there is nothing to be objected to this arrangement, there is -much in favor of it. It is important that they who engage in the study -of political law, should come to the task with minds prepared for it; -well stored with analogous information, and sobered and subdued by the -discipline of severe investigation. There is a simplicity in some views -of government which is apt to betray the student into a premature -belief that he understands it thoroughly; and then, measuring the value -of his imagined acquirements, not by the labor that they have cost him, -but by the dignity and importance of the subject, he becomes inflated, -self-satisfied and unteachable; resting in undoubting assurance on the -accuracy and sufficiency of such bare outline as his instructer may -have thought proper to place before him. But in those countries where -the authority of government rests on a questionable title, they who are -entrusted with the education of youth, may naturally wish to keep them -from looking into it too narrowly. Hence it may be a measure of policy -with them, to introduce the student, in the first place, to the study -of political law, in the hope of making on his raw and unpractised -mind, such an impression, as may secure his approbation of the existing -order of things. The faculty of investigating legal questions, and -forming legal opinions, may almost be regarded as an acquired faculty; -so that, in the earlier part of his researches, the student necessarily -acquiesces in the doctrines which are pronounced <i>ex cathedra</i> by his -teacher. At this time he readily receives opinions on trust; and if it -be his interest to cherish them, or if he is never called on in after -life to reexamine them, he is apt to carry them with him to the grave. -This is perhaps as it should be in England and other countries of -Europe. Having no part in the government, it may be well enough that he -should learn to sit down contented with this sort of enlightened ignorance.</p> - -<p>But with us the case is different. The authority of our governments is -derived by a title that fears no investigation. We feel sure, that, the -better it is understood, the more it will be approved. It rests too on -a charter conferring regulated and limited powers; and the well being -of the country requires that the limitations and regulations be -strictly observed. Now every man among us has his "place in the -commonwealth." It is on the one hand, the duty of every man to aid in -giving full effect to all legitimate acts of government; and on the -other, to bear his part in restraining the exercise of all powers -forbidden or not granted. Every man therefore owes it to his country to -acquire a certain proficiency in constitutional law, so as to act -understandingly, when called on to decide between an alleged violation -of the constitution, and an imputed opposition to lawful authority. -Such occasions are of daily occurrence. Scarcely a day has passed, -since the adoption of the federal constitution, when some question of -this sort has not been before the public. Such is the effect of that -impatience of restraint natural to man. So prompt are the people to -become restive under laws of questionable authority, and so apt are -rulers to strain at the curb of constitutional limitations, that one or -the other, or both of these spectacles, is almost always before us.</p> - -<p>When you come then, young gentlemen, to the study of political and -constitutional law, you will find it no small advantage to have been -engaged for some months before in studies of a similar character. The -opinions you will then form will be properly your own. I may not be so -successful as I might wish, in impressing you with those I entertain; -but I shall be more gratified to find you prepared to "give a reason -for the faith that is in you," whatever that faith may be, than to hear -you rehearse, by rote, any political catechism that I could devise. I -shall accordingly postpone any remarks on constitutional and political -law, until your minds have been exercised and hardened by the severe -training they will undergo in the study of the private rights of -individuals, of wrongs done in prejudice of such rights, and of the -remedies for such wrongs. All these topics are embraced in the second -and third division of municipal law, that I have laid before you.</p> - -<p>To these belong the most intricate and difficult questions in the -science of law. In introducing you to the study of these, let me say, -in the language of one from whom I am proud to quote, that, "I cannot -flatter you with the assurance that 'your yoke is easy and your burden -light.' I will not tell you that your path leads over gentle ascents -and through flowery meads, where every new object entices us forward, -and stimulates to perseverance. By no means! The task you have -undertaken is one of the most arduous; the profession you have chosen -one of the most laborious; the study you are about to pursue, one of -the most difficult that can be conceived. But you have made your -election. You have severed yourselves from the common herd of youth, -who shrink from every thing that demands exertion and perseverance. You -have chosen between the allurements of pleasure and the honors which -await the disciples of wisdom. You yield to others to keep the -noiseless tenor of their way in inglorious ease. You have elected for -yourselves the path that philosophers and moralists represent as -leading, up a rugged ascent, to the temple of fame. It may be the lot -of some of you to elevate yourselves by talents and unabating zeal, in -the pursuit you have selected. But these distinguished honors are not -to be borne away by the slothful and inert. <i>Nulla palma sine pulvere</i>. -He who would win the laurel, must encounter the sweat and toil of the -<i>arena</i>. Nor will it suffice that he <i>occasionally</i> presses on to the -goal. If he slackens in his efforts he must lose ground. We roll a -Sisyphean stone to an exalted eminence. He who gives back loses what -his strength had gained; and sinking under the toil his own indolence -increases, will at length give up his unsteady efforts in despair."—1. -T. C. Introduction, p. vi.</p> - -<p>I can add nothing to these striking remarks but my testimony to their -truth. There is, perhaps, no study that tasks the powers of the mind -more severely than that of law. In it, as in the study of mathematics, -nothing is learned at all that is not learned perfectly; and a careless -perusal of Euclid's elements would not be more unprofitable, than that -of a treatise on the laws of property. Nor will a mere effort of memory -be of more avail in the one case than in the other. Both must be -remembered by being understood; by being through the exercise of -intense thought, incorporated as it were into the very texture of the -mind. To this end its powers must be fully and faithfully exerted. As, -in lifting at a weight, you do but throw away your labor, until you man -yourself to the exertion of the full measure of strength necessary to -raise it; so, in this study, you may assure yourselves that all you -have done is of no avail, if you pass from any topic without thoroughly -understanding it. And let no man persuade you that genius can supply -the place of this exertion. Genius does not so manifest itself. The -secret of its wonderful achievements is in the energy which it -inspires. It is because its prompting sting, like the sharp goad of -necessity, urges to herculean effort, that it is seen to accomplish -herculean tasks. He is deceived who fancies himself a favored child of -genius, unless he finds his highest enjoyment in intellectual exercise. -He should go to the toil of thought like the champion to the lists, -seeking in the very <i>certaminis gaudia</i> the rich reward of all his labors.</p> - -<p>There may be something startling, I fear, in this exhibition of the -difficulties that lie before you, and it is proper to encourage you by -the assurance that by strenuous effort they may be certainly overcome. -Remember too that this effort will be painful only in the outset. The -mind, like the body, soon inures itself to toil, and wears off the -soreness consequent on its first labors. When this is done, the task -becomes interesting in proportion to its difficulty, and subjects which -are understood without effort, and which do not excite the mind to -thought, seem flat and insipid.</p> - -<p>But lest the student should falter and give back in his earlier -struggles, it is the duty of the teacher to afford him such aids as he -can. This is mainly to be done by means of such an analysis and -arrangement of the subject as may prevent confusion, and consequent -perplexity and discouragement.</p> - -<p>There are two sorts of analysis, each proper in its place. The one -<i>philosophical</i>, by which the different parts of a subject are so -arranged, as to exhibit in distinct groups those things that depend on -the same or like principles, and such as are marked by characteristic -points of resemblance; giving a sort of honorary precedence to the most -important. The other sort of analysis may be termed <i>logical</i>. It is -that method by which different propositions are so arranged, as that no -one of them shall ever be brought under consideration, until all others -which may be necessary to the right understanding of that one, have -been established and explained. Of this last description sire Euclid's -elements, in which it is interesting to observe that no one proposition -could with propriety be made to change its place; each one depending -for its demonstration, directly or indirectly, upon all that have gone before.</p> - -<p>Blackstone's Commentaries may be cited as an example of <i>philosophical</i> -analysis. He has indeed been careful to avoid perplexing his reader, -through the want of a strictly <i>logical</i> arrangement, by dealing -chiefly in generalities, and never descending to such particulars as -might be unintelligible for want of a knowledge of matters not yet -treated of. This I take to be the reason why his work has been -characterized as being "less an institute of law, than a methodical -guide or elementary work adapted to the commencement of a course of -study. He treats most subjects in a manner too general and cursory to -give the student an adequate knowledge of them. After having pursued -his beautiful arrangement, he is obliged to seek elsewhere for farther -details. After having learnt the advantage of system, he is almost at -the threshold of the science, turned back without a guide, to grope -among the mazy volumes of our crowded libraries. This cannot be right. -If system is of advantage at all, it is of advantage throughout. Were -it practicable, it would be better for the student to have a single -work, which embracing the whole subject, should properly arrange every -principle and every case essential to be known preparatory to his -stepping on the <i>arena</i>. Much, very much indeed, would still be left to -be explored in the course of his professional career, independent of -the <i>apices juris</i>, which the most vigorous and persevering alone can -hope to attain."—Tucker's Commentary, Introduction, p. 4.</p> - -<p>The justice of these remarks none can deny. It might be thought -unbecoming in me to say how much the writer from whom I quote them has -done to supply such a work as he describes. Yet I cannot suffer any -feeling of delicacy to restrain me from the duty of recommending that -work to your attentive perusal. I shall eagerly, too, avail myself of -his permission to make frequent use of it, as I know of no book which -so well supplies the necessary details to parts of the subject of which -Mr. Blackstone has given only loose and unprofitable sketches. It is to -be lamented that in doing this he has so strictly bound himself to the -arrangement of that writer. That arrangement, as I have remarked, -imposed on Mr. Blackstone the necessity of being occasionally loose and -superficial. For want of one more strictly logical, the Virginia -Commentator often finds it impossible to go into the necessary detail, -without anticipating matters which properly belong to subsequent parts -of his treatise; and too often, where this is impracticable, topics and -terms are introduced, the explanation of which is, perhaps, deferred to -the next volume.</p> - -<p>An instance will illustrate my meaning:—Mr. Blackstone classes -remedies for private wrongs, thus: "first, that which is obtained by -the <i>mere act</i> of the parties themselves; secondly, that which is -effected by the <i>mere act</i> and operation of <i>law;</i> and thirdly, that -which arises from <i>suit</i> or <i>action</i> in courts." Now, it probably -occurred to him, that he could not go into details on the two first of -these three heads, without presenting ideas which would be -unintelligible to any who had not already studied the third. In -striving to avoid this, he has touched so lightly upon the other two, -that his remarks on the important subjects of distress and accords, -which come under the first head, leave the student nearly as ignorant -as they found him. For this there was no real necessity, as a knowledge -of the two first heads is by no means necessary, or indeed at all -conducive to the right understanding of the third. Had the pride of -philosophical analysis, and symmetry of arrangement, been sacrificed to -the laws of logic and reason, there was nothing to forbid the -introduction of treatises on these important topics, as copious and -elaborate as those supplied by the diligence and research of the -Virginia Commentator. The manner in which this has been done, has made -it manifest how unfavorable the arrangement of Mr. Blackstone sometimes -is to amplification and minuteness. The essays of the President of the -Court of Appeals on distresses and accords, leave nothing to be -desired. Yet no one can read them profitably without having first -studied the law of remedies by suit or action.</p> - -<p>These, and some other instances of the same sort, have led me to this -determination. Wishing to avail myself of the labors of the Virginia -Commentator, without losing the benefit of Mr. Blackstone's analysis, I -propose to preserve the latter, but to make occasional changes in his -arrangement, substituting one more logical, though perhaps less -philosophical. This, and the postponement of the study of political -law, are the only liberties I propose to take. The fourth division, -which relates to crimes and punishments, will be the last considered. -This will be done not only in a spirit of conformity to Mr. -Blackstone's plan, but also because one of the most important branches -of criminal law has reference to an offence of which no just idea can -be formed without a previous and diligent study of the Constitution and -of the science of government.</p> - -<p>This last mentioned subject, young gentlemen, I should perhaps pass -over but lightly, were I free to do so, contenting myself with a -passing allusion to its connexion with the study of the law, and the -encouragement you should derive from the honorable rewards that await -distinguished merit in our profession. But this is not a mere school of -professional education, and it is made my duty, by the statutes of the -College, to lecture especially on the constitution of this state and of -the United States. In the discharge of this duty it may be necessary to -present views more important to the statesman, than to the mere -practitioner. When I think of the difficulty and high responsibility -attending this part of my task, I would gladly escape from it; but -considerations of its importance and of the benefit to the best -interests of our country which has heretofore resulted from its -faithful execution, come in aid of a sense of duty, and determine me to -meet it firmly and perform it zealously.</p> - -<p>The mind of the student of law is the ground in which correct -constitutional opinions and sound maxims of political law should be -implanted. The study of the common law involves the study of all the -rights which belong to man in a state of society. The history of the -common law is a history of the occasional invasions of these rights, of -the struggles in which such invasions have been repelled, and of the -securities provided to guard against their recurrence. A mind -thoroughly acquainted with the nature and importance of the writ of -<i>habeas corpus</i>, and the trial by jury, and rightly understanding the -indestructible character of the right of private property, will hardly -fail to be awake to any attack which may be aimed at liberty from any -quarter. Hence liberty finds in the students of the law a sort of body -guard. Their professional apprenticeship serves as a civil polytechnic -school, where they are taught the use of weapons to be wielded in her -defence. The history of our country from the first dawning of the -revolution is full of proofs and examples of this. The clear view of -the rights of the colonies which led to the Declaration of -Independence, was one which hardly any but lawyers could have taken, -and of the accuracy of which none but lawyers could have been sure. It -was from them the ball of the revolution received its first impulse, -and under their guidance it was conducted to the goal. Some few others -were placed forward by circumstances; but they soon fell back, or found -their proper place of service in the field; leaving the great cause to -be managed by those whose studies qualified them to know where to -insist, and where to concede; when to ward, and when to strike. The -state papers emanating from the first congress will, accordingly, be -found worthy to be compared with the ablest productions of the kind -recorded in history; displaying an ability, temper, and address, which -prepares the reader to be told that a large majority of the members of -that body were lawyers.</p> - -<p>In Mr. Blackstone's introductory lecture are some remarks on the -importance of the study of the law to English gentlemen, strictly -applicable to this view of the subject. "It is," says he, "perfectly -amazing, that there should be no other state of life, no other -occupation, art, or science, in which some method of instruction is not -looked upon as necessary, except only the science of legislation, the -noblest and most difficult of any. Apprenticeships are held necessary -to almost every art, commercial or mechanical: a long course of reading -and study must form the divine, the physician, and the practical -professor of the laws: but every man of superior fortune thinks himself -<i>born</i> a legislator. Yet Tully was of a different opinion: 'it is -necessary,' says he, 'for a senator to be thoroughly acquainted with -the constitution; and this,' he declares, 'is a knowledge of the most -extensive nature; a matter of science, of diligence, of reflection; -without which no senator can possibly be fit for his office.'"</p> - -<p>If the part in the government allotted to the people of England renders -this admonition important to them, how much more important must it be -to us, who are in theory and in fact <i>our own rulers</i>. Not only is -every office accessible to each one of us; but each, even in private -life, as soon as he puts on manhood, assumes a "place in the -commonwealth." In practice, as in theory, the <small>SOVEREIGNTY OF THE STATE</small> -is in us. <i>Born to the purple</i>, the duties of that high destiny attach -upon us at our birth; and unless we qualify ourselves to discharge -them, we must cease to reproach the ignorance and folly, the passion -and presumption, which so often disgrace the sovereigns of the old -world, and heap wretchedness and ruin on their subjects. The same -causes will have the like effects here as there. Power does not imply -wisdom or justice, whether in the hands of the few or the many: and it -is only by the diligent study of our duties in this important station -that we can qualify ourselves so to administer its functions, as to -save the free institutions inherited from our fathers, from the same -reproach which the testimony of history fixes upon all other governments.</p> - -<p>Not only is this true in reference to us as well as to the kings of the -earth, but it is more emphatically true of us than of them. Whatever be -their theory of sovereignty, and however they may prate about <i>divine -right</i>, they all know, and feel, that, after all, they are but <i>kings -by sufferance</i>. They may talk of absolute sovereignty, and claim for -government that sort of <i>omnipotence</i> which is said to reside in the -British parliament. But, after all, they know and feel, that there is -much they cannot do, because there is much they dare not do. The course -of events now passing in England is full of proof of this. We have just -seen that same omnipotent parliament, new-modelling itself to suit the -wishes of the people. This act indeed, was itself an exertion of this -pretended omnipotence, but wisely and discreetly exercised, in -surrendering power. It was certainly done with a very bad grace; and at -this moment we see that body anxiously watching the temper of the -multitude, and adapting its measures, not to the views of its members, -not even to the views of the constituent body, but to the real or -supposed interests of the great unrepresented mass. Such is the check, -which in spite of all positive institutions, the physical force of -numbers, however degraded, and, professedly, disregarded, must exercise -over their rulers; and in this check, they find a motive to justice, -forbearance, and circumspection, which, in a measure, restrains the -abuse of power.</p> - -<p>But may not we, the sovereign citizens of these states, abuse power -too? When men are numerous and "strong enough to set their duties at -defiance, do they cease to be duties any longer?" Does that which would -be unjust as the act of ninety-nine, become just, as being the act of -an hundred? Is it in the power of numbers to alter the nature of -things, and to justify oppression, though it should fall on the head of -only one victim? It would be easy to point to instances in which we all -believe that majorities have done great wrong; and that under such -wrongs we have suffered and are still suffering we all know. But where -is the check on such abuse of power? Constitutional authority and -physical force are both on the same side, and if the <i>wisdom</i> and -<i>justice</i> of those who wield both does not freely afford redress, there -arc no means of enforcing it. "There is no sanction to any contract -against the will of prevalent power."</p> - -<p>The justice of these ideas is recognized in the forms of all our -governments. The limitations on the powers of congress and the state -legislatures, are all predicated on the certain truth "that majorities -may find or imagine an interest in doing wrong." Hence there are many -things which cannot be lawfully done by a bare majority; and many more, -which no majority, however great, is authorised to do. Two-thirds of -the senate must concur in a sentence of impeachment. The life and -property of an individual cannot be taken away but by the unanimous -voice of his triers; and all the branches of all our governments -collectively cannot lawfully enact a bill of attainder, or an <i>ex post -facto</i> statute.</p> - -<p>But though such acts are forbidden by the constitution, they may -nevertheless be passed, and judges may be found to enforce them, if -those holding legislative and judicial offices shall be so minded. The -constituents, too, of a majority of the legislature may approve and -demand such acts. Where then is the security that such things will not -be done? Where can it be but in the enlightened sense of justice and -right in the constituent body?</p> - -<p>I am not sure that such restraints on the powers of public -functionaries are not even more necessary in a republican government -than in any other. A king can scarcely have a personal interest in -ruining one portion of his dominions for the benefit of the rest, and -he would not dare to ruin the whole, while a spark of intelligence and -spirit remained among the people. But in a republic, whenever the -inclination and the power to do such a wrong concur, the very nature of -the case secures the rulers from all fear of personal consequences. The -majority is with them. Their own constituents are with them. To these -is their first duty; and shall they hesitate to do that which is to -benefit their constituents, out of tenderness to those who are not -their constituents? We know how such questions are answered, when the -occasion is one where a <i>fixed majority</i> have a <i>fixed interest</i> in the -proposed wrong. Is not this the reason why legislative encroachment so -much disposes men to acquiesce in executive usurpation? Is it not this, -which, when the barriers of constitutional restraint are seen to fall, -drives minorities, <i>as by a sort of fatal instinct</i>, to seek shelter -under the arm of a <i>common master</i>, from the all pervading tyranny of -majorities exercising the power of <i>universal legislation?</i> The wrongs -of America were the act of the parliament of England, goaded on by the -people. It was they who claimed a right to legislate in all things for -the colonies. It was they who demanded a revenue from America; and the -colonies, eagerly looking to the crown for protection, maintained an -unshaken loyalty, until the king was seen to take part with their -oppressors. The wrongs of Ireland are the act of the people of England. -Ireland is the rival of England in agriculture, manufactures and -commerce; and every concession to the former, seems to the multitude to -be something taken from the prosperity of the latter. But the -representation of Ireland in parliament is to that of England as one to -five; and when the Irish people cry to parliament for redress, they are -answered <i>as all appeals from minorities are answered by the -representatives of majorities</i>. But how would they be answered if the -representative and constituent bodies were both thoroughly instructed -in the sacred character and paramount authority and importance of the -<i>duties</i> which belong to the high function of sovereignty? We justly -deny and deride the divine right of kings; and we assert and maintain -<i>the divine right of the people to self government</i>. And it is a divine -right. It is a corollary from the right and duty to fulfil the purposes -of our being, which accompany each one of us into the world. The right -and the duty both come from the author of that being. He imposes the -one when he gives the other, and thus fixes on us a responsibility -which clings to us through life. We deceive ourselves if we think to -get rid of any portion of this responsibility by entering into -partnership with others, each one of whom brings into the concern the -same rights, the same duties, and the same responsibilities;—neither -more nor less than ourselves. We do but multiply, and divide again by -the same number. Each receives, by way of dividend, the same amount of -right, duty, and responsibility that he carried into the common stock. -Of so high a nature are these, and so vast are the interests with which -they are connected, that it has been truly said, that, whether we mount -the hustings or go to the polls, we may well tremble to give or to -receive the power which is there conferred.</p> - -<p>Gentlemen; if these ideas be just, how important is the duty imposed on -me by that statute of the college which requires me to lecture on -constitutional law! How desirable is it that there should be every -where schools, in which the youth of our country should be thoroughly -imbued with correct opinions and just sentiments on this subject! It -was Agesilaus, I think, who said that "the business of education was to -prepare the boy for the duties of the man." How pre-eminently -important, then, must be that branch of education which is to qualify -him to perform this highest of all social duties, and to bear worthily -his part in that relation which has been characterized as "a -partnership in all science, in all art, in every virtue, and in all -perfection; a partnership, not only between those who are living, but -between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are yet -to be born."</p> - -<p>These striking words, which are from the pen of the celebrated Edmund -Burke, call to mind the high testimony which he has borne in favor of -the study of the law, as a school of political rights. After having -acted an important part in procuring the repeal of the stamp act, he -made his last effort in favor of the rights of the colonies, in March, -1775. On that occasion, laboring to dissuade the British parliament -from pushing America to extremities, he descanted on the love of -freedom, which he pronounced to be the predominating feature in the -character of our fathers. The prevalence of this passion he ascribed to -a variety of causes, none more powerful than the number of lawyers, and -the familiarity of the people with the principles of the common law. -His ideas I will give you in his own words, for it is only in his own -words that his ideas ever can be fittingly expressed.</p> - -<p>He says, "In no country perhaps in the world is the law so general a -study. The profession itself is numerous and powerful; and in most -provinces it takes the lead. The greater number of the deputies sent to -the congress were lawyers. But all who read, and most do read, endeavor -to obtain some smattering in that science.... This study renders men -<i>acute</i>, <i>inquisitive</i>, <i>dexterous</i>, <i>prompt in attack</i>, <i>ready in -defence</i>, <i>full of resources</i>. In other countries, the people, more -simple, and of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill principle in -government only by an actual grievance; <i>here they anticipate the evil, -and judge of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the -principle. They augur misgovernment at a distance, and snuff the -approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze.</i>"</p> - -<p>Such, young gentlemen, is the important and useful influence which the -study of our profession enables its members to exert. But if, instead -of preparing their minds by this study, the very men to whom the people -look up for light, do but provide themselves with a few set phrases -contrived to flatter and cajole them, what but evil can come of it?</p> - -<p>"The people can do no wrong." Why! this if but what all sovereigns hear -from their flatterers. In one sense, it is indeed true of both, for -there is no human tribunal before which either king or people can be -arraigned. But neither can make right and wrong change places and -natures.</p> - -<p>"<i>Vox populi, vox Dei.</i>" "It is the voice of God." So said the Jews of -the impious Herod. But the judgments of the insulted Deity showed how -mere a worm he was; and <i>his</i> judgments are not limited to kings, nor -withheld by numbers. We may preserve all the outward forms of freedom, -the checks and balances of the constitution may remain to all -appearance undisturbed, and yet he who can "curse our blessings" may -give us over to all the evils of despotism, if we do not "lay to heart" -the high duties of that freedom wherewith he has made us free.</p> - -<p>I am sensible, young gentlemen, that, to many, these ideas will not be -acceptable. And for an obvious reason. "Men like well enough," it is -said, "to hear of their power, but have an extreme disrelish to be told -of their duties." Yet in a government of equal rights, these are -strictly correlative. The rights of each individual are the exact -measure of the duties which others owe to him, and of coarse, of those -he owes to others. This is so obviously true, that it needs but be -stated, to be recognized at once as a man recognizes his face in the -glass. But <i>he</i> "goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner -of man he was." Let not us do likewise.</p> - -<p>But there is another reason why many will hear with impatience of the -difficulties attendant on the proper discharge of duties, which are too -often made the low sport of a holiday revel. None can deny the truth -and justice of the remarks already quoted from Mr. Blackstone; but few, -I fear, are willing to bring them home, and to acknowledge the -necessity of such severe preparation to qualify themselves to exercise -the franchises of a citizen. Let me hope, young gentlemen, that you -will view the matter in a different light, and go to your task with the -more cheerfulness, from the assurance that you will thus be qualified -to derive a blessing to yourselves and to your country, from the -discreet and conscientious exercise of a privilege, which others, from -a want of correct information and just sentiments, so often pervert to -the injury of both.</p> - -<p>Before I conclude, give me leave to offer a few remarks on a subject in -which every member of the faculty has an equal and common interest. If -there be any thing by which the University of William and Mary has been -advantageously distinguished, it is the liberal and magnanimous -character of its discipline. It has been the study of its professors to -cultivate at the same time, the intellect, the principles, and the -deportment of the student, laboring with equal diligence to infuse the -spirit of the scholar and the spirit of the gentleman. He comes to us -as a gentleman. As such we receive and treat him, and resolutely refuse -to know him in any other character. He is not harassed with petty -regulations; he is not insulted and annoyed by impertinent -<i>surveillance</i>. Spies and informers have no countenance among us. We -receive no accusation but from the conscience of the accused. His honor -is the only witness to which we appeal; and should he be even capable -of prevarication or falsehood, we admit no proof of the fact. But I beg -you to observe, that in this cautious and forbearing spirit of our -legislation, you have not only proof that we have no disposition to -harass you with unreasonable requirements; but a pledge that such -regulations as we have found it necessary to make, <i>will be enforced</i>. -If we did not mean to execute our laws, it might do little harm to have -them minute and much in detail on paper. It is because we <i>do</i> mean to -enforce them that we are cautious to require nothing which may not be -exacted without tyranny or oppression, without degrading ourselves or -dishonoring you.</p> - -<p>The effect of this system, in inspiring a high and scrupulous sense of -honor, and a scorn of all disingenuous artifice, has been ascertained -by long experience, and redounds to the praise of its authors. That it -has not secured a regular discharge of all academical duties, or -prevented the disorders which characterize the wildness of youth, is -known and lamented. But we believe and know, that he who cannot be held -to his duty, but by base and slavish motives, can never do honor to his -instructers; while we are equally sure that such a system as keeps up a -sense of responsibility to society at large, is most conducive to high -excellence. We think it right, therefore, to adapt our discipline to -those from whom excellence may be expected, rather than to those from -whom mediocrity may barely be hoped. Such a system is valuable too, as -forming a sort of middle term between the restraints of pupilage and -the perfect freedom and independence of manhood. Experience shows that -there is a time of life, when the new born spirit of independence, and -the prurience of incipient manhood will not be repressed. They will -break out in the <i>airs</i> or in the <i>graces</i> of manhood. Between these we -have to choose. The youth of eighteen treated as a <i>boy</i>, exhibits the -<i>former</i>. Treated as a <i>man</i>, he lays aside these forever, and displays -the <i>latter</i>. This system is thus believed to afford the best security -against such offences as stain the name of the perpetrator. Of such our -records bear no trace; nor is there, perhaps, a single individual of -all who have matriculated here, that would blush to meet any of his old -associates in this school of honor.</p> - -<p>May we not hope then, young gentlemen, when so much is trusted to your -magnanimity, that the dependence will not fail us? May we not hope, -when we are seen anxious to make our relation, not only a source of -profit, but of satisfaction to you, that you will not wantonly make it -a source of uneasiness and vexation to us? I persuade myself that you, -at least, commence your studies with such dispositions as we desire. If -this be so, there is one short rule by which you may surely carry them -into effect. "<i>Give diligent attention to your studies.</i>" This is the -best security against all unpleasant collision with your teachers, and -against that weariness of spirit which seeks relief in excess or -mischief. It carries with it the present happiness, which arises from a -consciousness of well doing; it supplies that knowledge which -encourages to farther researches, and renders study a pleasure; it -establishes habits of application, the value of which will be felt in -all the future business of life; and lays the foundation of that -intellectual superiority by which you hope to prosper in the world, and -to be distinguished from the ignoble multitude who live but to die and -be forgotten.</p> - -<blockquote><i>Williamsburg, October 27, 1834</i>.</blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect08"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE MARCH OF MIND.</h4> - -<center>"<i>Tempora Mutantur.</i>"</center> -<br> -<br> -<p>The present is emphatically the age of useful invention and scientific -discovery; and it is the peculiar good fortune of the present -generation, that the indefatigable labors of a few gigantic minds have -opened to it new and expanded sources of enjoyment, by the development -of principles which have long eluded the grasp of philosophy, and by -their practical application to the most ordinary affairs of life. Men -are not now bewildered by the imposing mysteries in which scientific -truth has been so long enveloped; nor are they deterred from a bold -investigation into the solidity of theories and hypotheses, by the -studied ambiguity of phrase in which the votaries of learning have -veiled them. They have learned properly to appreciate the fallacy of -those abstruse speculations and metaphysical researches, into which so -many thousands, in pursuit of some vain chimera, have been inextricably -involved—and have erected the standard of <i>utility</i> as that alone by -which all the lucubrations of moonstruck enthusiasts, and all the -experiments of visionary projectors are to be rigidly scanned and -tested. The practical benefits which have resulted from the rapid march -of mind, are to be seen in the application of steam to the propulsion -of boats, and in the innumerable rail roads, canals, and other -stupendous improvements, which have developed the resources of this -extensive country, and multiplied the blessings so bounteously bestowed -upon it by providence. But in the first glow of astonishment and -exultation which these have excited in the minds of men, numerous -beneficial changes of minor importance have followed the march of -intellect, which from their comparative insignificance, have almost -escaped observation.</p> - -<p>Formerly, the professors of the complex sciences of law, medicine, and -divinity, were regarded as exalted by their attainments, to an -immeasurable height of superiority over the mass of mankind, because -they shrouded the truths and principles of science from the vulgar eye, -by a veil of unintelligible jargon and grandiloquent technicalities, -entirely above the ordinary powers of comprehension. Years of laborious -and incessant toil were requisite to master the hidden complexities of -those venerated and "time-honored" professions; and he, who with -martyr-like resolution and unwearied perseverance, devoted his time and -talents to their attainment, was regarded by the "<i>vulgus ignobile</i>" -with sentiments of respect and admiration, nearly approaching to the -idolatrous reverence of a Hindoo, for the fabled virtues of his bloody -Juggernaut. But the illusion has at last been dispelled by the -refulgent light of truth, and those illustrious individuals, the -Luthers of the age, who have stripped these hoary errors of the veil -which concealed their enormity, may with merited exultation and triumph -exclaim, "<i>Nous avons changé toute cela!</i>" The art of economising time -has been simplified, and subjected to the grasp of the most obtuse -intellect; so that a science which formerly required years of intense -and unremitted study, united with long experience and observation, is -now thoroughly understood and mastered in a fortnight! So rapid indeed -has been the march of intellect, sweeping from its path obstacles -heretofore deemed insurmountable, and scaling the most impregnable -fortifications of philosophy, with a force no less astonishing than -irresistible, that many of our most profound adepts in the "glorious -science" of the law, are (<i>mirabile dictu!</i>) at once initiated into all -its mysteries by a single perusal of "Blackstone's Commentaries" and -the "Revised Code!" instead of toiling his way up the steep ascent of -fame by consuming the midnight oil, by exploring the dark and -forbidding chambers of the temple of law, dragging forth truth from the -musty volumes of antiquity, and searching the origin of long -established principles. Among the feudal customs of our Saxon -progenitors, a man may now become "like Mansfield wise, and Old Forster -just," by one month's attendance at the bar of a county court! At the -expiration of that period, he can rivet an admiring audience in fixed -attention, by the strains of Demosthenian eloquence, in which he asks -if "the court will hear a motion on a delivery bond?" And will astound -some illiterate ignoramus, by the consequential pomposity with which he -prates of "contingent remainders," "executory devises," and all the -labyrinthian subtleties of nisi prius! No one will then contest his -right to perambulate the streets, with all the ostentatious dignity of -a man "learned in the law," and to parade before the eyes of the -admiring rabble, his colored bag of most formidable -dimensions,—albeit, it may be filled with cheese and crackers to stay -his stomach in the intervals of business.</p> - -<p>But the inappreciable benefits which the "March of Intellect" has -showered upon mankind, are easily discovered by referring to the -stupendous revolutions it has achieved, not only in the science of law -but in divinity, medicine, education, manners, and morals. Men do not -now venerate the ancient fathers of the church for the profound -erudition and wonderful acquirements displayed in those ponderous tomes -which now and then greet the eyes of the bibliopole, exciting the same -degree of astonishment as the appearance of a comet illumining the -immensity of space with its brilliant scintillations, or some <i>lusus -naturć</i> like the Siamese twins. Far from it. Modern philosophers have -discovered the inutility and absurdity of wading through the voluminous -discussions of controversial theologists, and tracing the origin of -some religious dogma or doctrinal schism, which has for ages furnished -these pugnacious wiseacres with food for inquiry and research. Instead -of wasting the time necessarily consumed in these ridiculous studies, -men who formerly might have dragged out their lives in the vulgar -vocation of a tailor, a butcher, or a hatter, spring forth in a single -week armed cap-a-pie to defend their religion from the unhallowed -assaults of infidels, and amply qualified to expound the sacred texts, -and deal out damnation with the indiscriminate prodigality of a -spendthrift, for the first time cursed with the means of gratifying his -extravagant propensities.</p> - -<p>Formerly too, the most attentive and patient observation of the -progressive development of the mental faculties of a child were -necessary to enable a parent to adapt his education to the sphere of -life in which nature had destined him to move. Innumerable obstacles -were to be encountered in tutoring his mind to the comprehension of the -profession for which he was intended; and, perhaps, after years of -incessant toil and intense parental anxiety, the young stripling -blasted all the hopes of his kindred, by either becoming the hero of a -racefield or the magnus apollo of a grog shop, or distinguished his -manhood by the puerile follies of youth, or the incurable stupidity of -an idiot. But the "March of Mind" has obviated or removed all these -difficulties, by the discovery of the renowned science of phrenology. A -parent, in this blessed age of intellectual illuminism, may by an -examination of certain craniological protuberances, ascertain with -mathematical exactness, whether his child is a hero or a coward, a -philosopher or a—fool; and may regulate his education in conformity to -the result. The safety and well being of society, too, is thus -encompassed with additional safeguards, which will effectually protect -it from those evils which have heretofore been only partially -suppressed by legislation. If any ill favored monster of the human -species happens to have the organ of destructiveness largely -"developed," (<i>ut verbum est</i>) and not counteracted by any antagonist -organ,—all the murders, rapes and thefts which he is morally certain -to perpetrate,—with their attendant train of want, calamity and ruin, -may be at once prevented by hanging the scoundrel in terrorem, as a -kind of scarecrow to all evil doers. A desideratum in political economy -will thus be also attained. The accounts of those "caterpillars of the -commonwealth," clerks, sheriffs, lawyers, <i>et id omne genus</i>, who swarm -around the treasury in verification of the old maxim of Plautus, "<i>ubi -mel, ibi apes</i>,"—(Anglice—Where there is money, <i>there</i> are lawyers,) -are balanced without the payment of a cent; for it is obvious that -there is no necessity for all the tedious formalities of a trial at -law, the guilt of the murderer being already ascertained and summarily -punished by this <i>preventive</i> justice, and the commonwealth of course -exempted from the expense of a prosecution.</p> - -<p>It would require a volume to enumerate all the advantages which have -resulted from the discovery of this science. But even these are about -to be quadrupled by the successful experiments recently made in the -immortal and euphoniously titled science of phrenodontology, by which a -man's <i>grinders</i> are regarded as the unerring indices of his habits, -manners and propensities; and should these last be of an evil nature, -they can be entirely eradicated by the extraction of such of the -<i>incissores</i> as indicate their existence. There is no necessity -whatever of inculcating self denial, regular habits, fortitude and -virtue, to correct the depravity and vice of any individual. Only knock -out his teeth, (or as that method is somewhat too summary,) have them -extracted <i>secundum artem</i> by a dentist, and you instantly metamorphose -him into a paragon of moral purity!</p> - -<p>But one of the principal benefits of the "March of Mind," is the -salutary reformation effected in the opinions of mankind, in relation -to numerous important subjects. All those low and grovelling ideas -which once tenanted the crania of our honest yeomanry as to the -education of their children, have now evaporated into thin air. Instead -of tying their sons to a vulgar plough, bronzing their visages to the -complexion of an Indian, as was formerly the absurd practice, they are -now transplanted into the genial hothouse of a town life, where they -are soon installed in all the fashionable paraphernalia of tights, -dickey, and safety chain; and astonish their honest old dads by the -dexterity with which they flourish a yardstick, and by the surprising -volubility with which they can chatter nonsense, <i>a la mode du bon -ton</i>. I have often been enraptured with the incontrovertible evidence -of the "March of Mind," when I saw one of these praiseworthy -youngsters, with his crural appendages, cased in a pair of eelskin -inexpressibles, and his nasal adjunct inflamed to that rubicund -complexion which Shakspeare has immortalized in the jovial Bardolph, -quiz a country greenhorn, and <i>cul</i>, in the genuine Brummel style, some -vulgar, lowborn, mechanic acquaintance, who insolently aspired to the -honor of a nod! The improvement too, in the education of our young -ladies, is "confirmation strong as proof of holy writ," of the rapid -and resistless march of science and intellect. With a precocity of -talent which would have absolutely dumbfoundered a belle of the olden -time, they now arrive at full maturity at the age of thirteen; when</p> - -<center><small>"My dukedom to a beggarly denier,"</small></center> - -<p>they can out-manoeuvre the most consummate coquette of fifty! They -perfect their education with almost the rapidity of light; and prattle -most bewitchingly in French or Italian, before their pretty mouths have -been sullied by their vulgar vernacular. The odious and despicable -practice of knitting stockings and baking pies, fit only for a race of -Goths in an age of Vandalism, has been inscribed with "<i>Ilium fuit</i>," -and is now patronised only by the rustic <i>canaille</i>, who still adhere -to the horrid custom of rising at the dawn of day and attending to -household business. Their proficiency too, in the science of -diacousticks, or the doctrine of sounds, is truly amazing—and the -whole <i>posse comitatus</i> of foreign fiddlers, jugglers, and mountebanks -who kindly condescend to instruct them in music, (as they facetiously -term it) are often thrown into raptures by the ease with which they -produce every variety of noise on a piano, from the deafening roar of a -northwester to the objurgatory grunt of a Virginia porker, -unceremoniously ousted from his luxurious ottoman of mud!</p> - -<p>But, as Byron says, greater "than this, than these, than all," are the -wonderful phenomena which have occurred in the science of medicine. The -physicians of modern times, have snatched the imperishable laurels from -the brows of Galen and Hippocrates, and have compelled Old Esculapius -himself, to "hide his diminished head!" It had long been a source of -the most poignant regret to the philanthropic observer of the ills and -afflictions incident to human nature, that the benign system of medical -jurisprudence, designed originally for the alleviation of human -suffering, had been so dilatory and uncertain in its operation, and so -fatally ill adapted to the eradication of numerous diseases from the -human frame, as to effect only a partial accomplishment of its -beneficent purpose. This radical disadvantage in that system of medical -science, might reasonably have been attributed to the want of a proper -firmness and adventurous temerity in its practitioners;—probably, -also, it might have resulted from their lamentable ignorance of the -structure and conformation of the human frame. This system, as was to -have been expected, had met with numerous advocates, principally in -consequence of their perfect personal indemnity from the frequently -fatal result of their ignorance or mismanagement; it being well known -that under this system a practitioner might, if he so chose, administer -a deadly poison to his patient, who would naturally "shuffle off this -mortal coil," while his afflicted relatives would piously attribute his -decease to a dispensation of Providence; and the physician, composedly -pocketing his fees, would have the satisfaction of seeing himself -eulogised in his patient's obituary, as a man of "science and skill." -It is obvious that under this system the patient's life was but</p> - -<center><small>"A vapour eddying in the whirl of chance,"</small></center> - -<p>and the distressing frequency with which we were called on to attend -the remains of a fellow being to the gloomy prisons of the dead, -imperatively demanded a radical and extensive reform.</p> - -<p>But fortunately for the human species, the "March of Mind" has led to -medical discoveries which have chained up the monster Death in -impotence, and rendered him a plaything to "the faculty." The long and -pompous pageants of M. D.'s diplomas, &c &c. have ceased to overawe the -eager aspirant for medical celebrity, and he now steps forward in the -path of fame at the age of nineteen, <i>maximus in magnis</i>, greatest -among the great! Diseases that formerly baffled the utmost skill of -science, and preyed upon their victims for years, are now thoroughly -extirpated in an hour! The long catalogue of noxious medicines with -which the pharmacopia was crammed, and which served no other purpose -than to swell</p> - -<center><small>"The beggarly account of empty boxes,"</small></center> - -<p>which the shelves of a rascally apothecary presented to view, are now -discarded; and their places are supplied by medicines so simple and so -efficacious, that the value of life, once considered so inestimable, -has actually undergone a considerable diminution, merely because of the -ease with which it may be enjoyed. It is now no longer necessary to -watch the various diagnostics of an obdurate disease through their -origin and development; it is no longer important that the unfortunate -patient should be bolstered up in bed for months, and his stomach -annihilated by a nauseous diet of mush and water gruel. This was but -the quackery of the rapacious cormorants, who grew rich upon the -credulity of their dupes. The patient may be on his feet in half an -hour, by the salutary operation of some harmless medicine, which -produces no other evil effect than a remarkable elongation of the -visage, and divers contortions of the abdominal viscera! Instead of -first ascertaining to what extent the body of the patient has been -debilitated by the ravages of his disorder, it is only requisite to -refer to a mystical talisman, vulgarly called a <i>teetotum</i>, which -entirely supersedes the necessity of thought or reflection; and whose -final position, after performing sundry gyrations on its point, informs -the practitioner with unerring certainty, whether his patient should be -<i>puked, sweated, or blistered!</i> The result is certain. The most -complicated case of pulmonary consumption is instantly and thoroughly -cured by <i>steam;</i> and an obstinate fever, produced by a superabundance -of bile upon the stomach, is effectually extirpated by an injection of -<i>cayenne pepper!</i> As revolutions never retrograde, these important -changes in medical jurisprudence will only terminate in the actual -resuscitation of a dead body, by an external application of camphorated -salts! a "consummation devoutly to be wished," and most certain to be -effected, by the rejection of all mineral medicines,—which the "March -of Mind" has demonstrated to be hurtful,—and the substitution in their -stead of a few simple vegetable remedies, accurately arranged, -classified, and <i>numbered!</i></p> - -<p>But enough. No man can reflect upon these things, without applying, as -I do, the trite quotation, "<i>tempora mutantur</i>," &c. Although it has -been used for the ten thousandth time, by the whole tribe of newspaper -scribblers and juvenile poetasters, yet it has never been more -<i>apropos</i>. Times <i>are</i> changed; and "oh, <i>how</i> changed!" What mind does -not expand at the delightful contemplation of these grand revolutions; -and who does not look forward with eagerness to the memorable era when -all the vulgar <i>bourgeois</i> qualities of common sense, common decency, -and common virtue, will fade into nothingness before the resistless and -all powerful "March of Mind!"</p> -<div align="right">V. </div> -<blockquote><i>Lynchburg, Oct. 30, 1834</i>.</blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect09"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE VILLAGE ON FOURTH JULY 183—.</h4> - -<center>A TALE.</center> -<br> -<center><small>Ergo agite, et lćtum cuncti celebremus honorem.—<i>Virgil</i>.<br> -Risum teneatis amici?—<i>Horace</i>.</small></center> -<br><br> -<blockquote><small>I do not know that the celebration of a Fourth of July in a country -village has ever been thought worthy of appearing in print; nor do I -know that a tale, founded on such a celebration, has ever been written; -and I doubt whether the fancy of any of our geniuses has ever pictured -such a subject, either with the pen or pencil. Many of your readers -will perhaps be amazed at the thought of such a subject for a tale; but -permit me to ask, why not a tale of the Fourth of July as well as any -other? Is it because the hearts of a free people, rejoicing on the -anniversary of the day which gave them liberty, throb in harmony, and -therefore can afford neither novelty nor variety? Granted. But are -there not various modes of manifesting, more or less appropriately, the -inward emotions of our hearts? Are not our ideas dissimilar as to the -manner of exhibiting our feelings, according to our various means, -situations and vocations in life—high or low—in cities, towns and -country? Then wherefore not? We have read of tales of wo, and tales of -bliss, and tales of neither; and, this being the case, I am imboldened -to this undertaking, leaving to the better judgment of the reader to -assign it to whichever class it properly belongs.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<p>At the foot of a slope, and on the right of a stream compressed between -two abrupt and craggy hills, covered with oaks and pines, stands a -small village, remarkable only for the rude and romantic scenery which -surrounds it. Access to it from the left side of the stream can only be -gained by a rocky, rugged and declivous road, the greater part of which -seems to have been either blasted or hewed out of the side of a hill, -around which it winds at a considerable height above the water—and, at -its termination is a neat frame bridge, which when crossed admits you -into the village. This stream bounds a conterminous portion of two -counties bordering upon the Potomac, into which it empties itself at -about five miles below the village, where the influx and reflux of the -tides are felt. Although there is considerable depth of water at the -village sufficient to float vessels of a large size, yet the clayey -alluvion brought down by the stream, and reacted upon by the river at -their junction, becomes a deposite which forms a kind of bar, over -which none but small crafts can pass. The number of inhabitants may be -estimated at from two to three hundred, the greater part of whom are -attached to a cotton factory but recently erected, and the remainder, -with the exception of a few families of consideration, are more or less -connected with the country and merchant mills, established many years -since, from which the village has its origin and perhaps its name.</p> - -<p>The beating of a drum, and the shrill and false tones of a fife, at -dawn of day, betokened to the villagers who still reposed upon their -pillows, that the glorious birthday of independence was likely not to -be passed unobserved, as hitherto it had been. This novel, and, in -effect, startling ushering of the day, soon brought them upon their -feet, and ere the sun had peered over the eastern, or crested the brows -of the western, mounts, the streets, such as they are, had become quite -enlivened. Most of the villagers had never heard the sounds of martial -music, and the greater number of those who had, were indebted to the -troops that had passed through the village during the late war. Those -who had never seen nor heard the sounds of a drum and fife, disclosed -their amazement by their gazing eyes and mouths agape. To a looker on, -the performers could not but be remarkable. A European, tall, erect, -lank, and already tippled, thumped away upon a drum, the vellum of the -nether end of which was rent,—followed by a stout, awry necked, -crumped backed and limping African, as <i>fifer</i>—a contrast at once -striking and ludicrous, hobbled along, most earnestly occupied with -their <i>reveille</i>, heedless of the gaze of the wonderstruck -multitude—the din of their music echoing and reverberating from the -surrounding hills. The <i>drummer</i> had been such in the United States -Marines, and had but recently quitted the service—and though not -sober, his performance was far from being bad. The <i>fifer</i> had served -in that capacity during the revolutionary war. His finger, stiff from -long disuse of the instrument, which he had preserved with religious -care since that epoch, did not allow him to give but an imperfect -specimen of his store of marches and quicksteps in vogue at that time, -and his recollection of them was scarcely better; the tunes of the -present times he knew nothing about. The drum used upon this occasion -had been <i>put hors de combat</i> during the late war, as the troops passed -through the village. This, together with the hallowed fife and veteran -<i>fifer</i>, in connection with the day, did not fail to give rise to -associations eminently calculated to excite enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>It appears that the celebration of the day had originated with, and was -suggested by, an honest son and follower of St. Crispin, (who had lived -in a city and had acquired some knowledge of <i>l'art militaire</i>,) whose -ambition to command a corps had led him to the most indefatigable -exertion to inspire the villagers with the spirit of <i>amor patrić</i>, and -success having crowned his exertion, application had been made for -commissions as well as for arms, in order to organize themselves in -time for a parade on the approaching festival. In this however they -were disappointed; for they had obtained neither when the day arrived, -and having determined to celebrate it, in spite of their disappointment -they would.</p> - -<p>This resolution soon circulated through the adjacent country called the -<i>forest</i>—its inhabitants <i>foresters</i>, who, anxious to witness the -parade—"<i>the spree</i>," as they termed it, came flocking into the -village on foot and horseback, singly and doubly, et cetera, by every -byroad and pathway which led to and terminated there. By meridian the -gathering was so great that the oldest inhabitants declared that such -an influx was not within their recollection. As regards the character -of the <i>foresters</i>, men and women, they are an honest, hardy, -industrious and independent people, and on Sundays, high-days and -holydays, cut a very respectable figure in the way of apparel and -ornaments—and for this occasion particularly, no pains had been spared -to make an <i>eclat</i>.</p> - -<p>In consequence of the disappointment alluded to, every firearm that -could be found was put under requisition, and the entire forenoon was -consumed in collecting and preparing them for use, during which the -music to arms continued without intermission. It was in this interval -that the buzzing of an expected oration was heard, which swelled into a -report, and heightened not a little the pre-existing enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Discharges of guns repeated at irregular intervals on the skirts of the -village, was an indication that the parade was about to commence, and -at a little after twelve o'clock the soldiery made their appearance. -They wore no uniform, but were clad in their best "Sunday go to -meetings;" and in the ranks were many of the foresters who had joined -them—</p> - -<center><small>"The rustic honors of the scythe and share"</small></center> - -<p>being given up for the time, for the warlike implements then to be used.</p> - -<p>Their arms were of divers descriptions; double barrelled guns, deer -guns, ducking guns, and a blunderbuss, with powderflasks and horns -swung round their shoulders,—and, volunteers in number exceeding arms, -poles were substituted. A cutlass distinguished the captain; a -horsewhip the lieutenant; a cane the second lieutenant. These three, -together with the soldierly appearance of some, the rigidity of others, -the apparent <i>nonchalance</i> of a few, and the deformity of several, -presented a <i>tout ensemble</i> the most grotesque and diverting.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this band was a small man, the stiffness of whose -carriage and the peculiarity of whose countenance attracted the -attention of the crowd. His eyes were small—appeared to be black and -twinkling, and were set into the deep recesses of sockets which -projected considerably, and surmounted by dark shaggy brows; his face -was contracted—his features small—and his forehead, though -retreating, was not sufficiently so to denote the entire absence of the -reflective faculty, according to phrenology. In his hand he bore a -scroll, and the dignity which his stiffness was meant to affect, was -reasonably enough imputed to the importance which he attached to the -part he was to act. The scroll was the Declaration of Independence, -which was to be read by him; and from the peculiarly reverential manner -with which it was held in his hand, he seemed to feel that it was an -instrument coeval with the birth of, and coexisting with, a free and -powerful nation, and demanded deference even from the very touch of his -hand. This man was not altogether devoid of talent, for he had -succeeded in earning for himself among the villagers a reputation of -high literary acquirements; and on hearing the report of an expected -oration, (suspicion fixed on him the origin of it,) had spontaneously -proposed to verify it. Of course the proposition was well received, and -dissipated at once any uncertainty. The spot at which it should be -delivered was soon decided upon and designated—well known—and but a -short distance out of the village. Thither the multitude repaired in -advance of the military, who were not to arrive there until all the -necessary arrangements for their reception had been made. This duty -devolved upon a self-constituted committee of arrangement, who -discharged it with all the zeal and ability which the briefness of the -notice would allow.</p> - -<p>The locality was well chosen, and seemed to have been designed by -nature for the scene for which it was now appropriated. From the -village and around the foot of the hill, winds a path that leads by an -easy ascent to the summit of another hill, capped by a grove or cluster -of huge pines and oaks, which overshadow a surface clear of undergrowth -and interspersed with rocky prominences. These prominences, though -rough, answered admirably well the purpose of seats for the auditory, -and one of them being flat and overswelling the rest, was pitched upon -as a rostrum from which the orator should hold forth. On one side of -it, which might be called the rear, was planted a staff, to which was -tacked an old bunting American ensign or flag, pierced with holes, -received at the battle of Plattsburg. At the end of the staff hung a -red woollen cap, the symbol of liberty—its color emblematic of the -ardor of its spirit, as explained by the committee. At the foot of the -staff stood a cask of "<i>old corn</i>," for the refreshment and -entertainment of the <i>corps militaire</i>, in honor of the day and orator.</p> - -<p>The village and country belles and beaux, attired in their gayest -possible manner, by way of regard, were suffered to have precedence in -the selection of places, and the former had possessed themselves of -those crags which might best suit them to the convenient hearing of the -oration. The assembled people were now impatiently awaiting the arrival -of the orator and escort, when they were at length descried wending -their way up hill, at the tune of <i>Molbrook</i>, sent forth to the air -from the fife in fragments—and having arrived, the orator was -conducted in form to the rostrum by the committee, which he mounted -with unfaltering steps.</p> - -<p>The bustle and buzz incident to the choosing of convenient places amid -the rugged area having subsided, the <i>coup d'oeil</i> presented was well -worthy the pencil and genius of a Hogarth; the pen can convey but a -faint idea. The gay females, elevated upon the asperated crags, -overtopping every other object, seemed to shed lustre and life upon -every thing around. Their attendants or beaux, resting in various -postures at their feet, or lolling against a tree hard by, proved that -the village and sylvan belles command the devotions of the rude sex no -less than those of courts and cities. The boys were perched upon every -oaken bough that overhung the spot that could bear their weight, and -the military and the rest were strewed about thickly and promiscuously -on the ground—sitting, squatting, kneeling; in fine, in every position -indescribable which the human frame is susceptible of when adapting -itself to some particular locality for its comfort.</p> - -<p>The speaker being about to commence, many who had kept on their hats or -caps were bid to uncover; the greater number of whom did so cheerfully; -a few reluctantly; and several, more independent and less tractable, -kept on theirs. To have insisted upon this point of decorum might have -been attended with consequences to mar the rejoicing—so the point was -very wisely given up. Silence obtained, nothing was heard but the -rustling of the leaves, through which the breeze that prevailed passed -and refreshed all below. The orator bowed and addressed his attentive -auditory. His voice was clear and audible, and his words were carefully -noted by a chirographer, and are here inserted.</p> - -<p>"Citizens of the village and farmers of the forest!—I will not offer -any excuse for the peramble that I will speak subsequent to the reading -of this <i>glorious</i> document (holding up the scroll) of our ancestors. -The honor with which you have extinguished me this day, by making me -the reader on it, is duly depreciated.</p> - -<p>"When you have heared the sentiments contained upon it, you will find -your hearts in trepidation at the conjointure at which your forefathers -dared to put their fists to it.</p> - -<p>"While they was employed in this business, the immortal Washington, -called the <i>frater pater</i>, because he had a brotherly and fatherly love -for his countrymen, was commanding an army made up of such soldiers as -<i>you</i> are. (Cheers.) It was with the like of you—such powerful men as -you—with such cowrageous souls as yours, that John Bull was fighting -with, running before and falling dead. (Great cheering.) The great -Thomas Jefferson and John Adams was driving the quill in peace and -comfort in Philadelphy, about this grand production, (stretching forth -and unfolding the scroll,) because they knowed, and all that was there -with them knowed too, that such soldiers as <i>you</i>, fighting for -liberty, barefoot, bareback and half starved, just as you are now when -you are all at home hard at work, was unresistible and unvincible. (The -deafening and reiterated cheers interrupted the speaker for a short time.)</p> - -<p>"Without you, what would have become to them, and this now free, brave -and happy nation? Shall I tell you? Why they should have all been -hanged or shot, and this nation would have been made up of slaves. They -worked with their heads, and you with your arms; to use a learned -expression, they physically and you bodily: and if it had not a been -for your arms and bodies, they could never—they would never have dared -to do nothing with their heads. You was the strong ramparts behind -which they retrenched themselves to save their necks. (Cheers.)</p> - -<p>"Your beloved Washington could work with ither his hand or his arm, but -he showed his wisdom by choosing to work with his arm—that is, by -flourishing the sword instead of driving the pen—by putting himself at -your head in battle—facing the cannons of the enemy, and leading you -to <i>victory</i> or <i>death!</i> (Tremendous cheering.) To make this plainer -still to your understandings, which is very good,—suppose a man was to -abuse you and call you hard names? Why, you would up fist and knock him -down at once, if you could, in course; and if you did you would be safe -enough, and the matter would end. This was Washington's maxim, and he -acted up to it. Now-a-days, amongst them who drives the quill, when one -abuse another, they go to writing, and when they have lost a heap of -time to prove one another in the wrong—mind you, because they don't -want to come up to the sticking point, they are at last obliged to end -the difference by shooting at one another, or one murdering the other. -Now what does it all amount to in the end? All their writing did no -good, and they might as well have fight it out 'right off the reel' at -first—not with pistols and the like of that, but the arms that God -gave them—their fists, (clenching his fist.) In times of war men fight -with firearms and the like, because they can't come in contact man to -man. (Cheers.)</p> - -<p>"It was your worthy fathers and the like on 'em, who atchieved the -freedom of your beloved country. Tom Jefferson and Jack Adams wrote -down what they fought about, that you might have it in black and -white—that you might never forget what your forefathers fought for, -and that you might stimulate their actions. This is all that writing is -fit or good for. Many of you don't know A from a bull's foot, but which -amongst you could'nt take up a gun and shoot the crows that would come -to your cornfields to destroy your crops. The British came here like -crows to destroy what was yours, and you shot them down like crows and -drove away the rest.(Cheers.)</p> - -<p>"My brave friends! your present conditions is a proof of your being the -ascendants of those naked and half starved warriors. You have turned -out this day to prove to the world that you can depreciate the yearly -anniversary of this fourth of July. You are now enjoying the blessings -which they got for you by their lives, and at the peril of them who has -outlived the revolution. You are now resting at ease, and listening to -me, (for which I am complimented,) but they never rested at all—they -was always on the go; they went through thick and thin—sunshine and -rain—dust and mud—snow and ice—<i>fire and -sword</i>—<small>DEATH AND -DESTRUCTION</small>, (tremendous cheering,) and made less of it than you do -now, for I can see that some of you is getting mighty restless. (A -shriek from a female at this instant spread consternation in the -assembly, which turned into a simultaneous burst of laughter as soon as -it was discovered she had fallen from a crag, being unable to endure -any longer the pain caused by its asperity.)</p> - -<p>"I will not keep you any longer in distraint; but I cannot finish -without saying a few words to the lovely gathering of our fair -countrywomen, which has complemented me this day with their smiles.</p> - -<p>"Your sex too, gentle hearers! had a helping hand in this glorious -revolution. Your foremothers was industriously employed at home for -your forefathers, while they was fighting for their country, their -wives and their offstrings. With such lovely being as I see now -gathered around me, this happy country need never fear of being in want -of warriors. (Cheers.) Sweet lasses! may heaven send down upon you such -partners as will make my prophecy come to pass."</p> - -<p>The peal of applause which ensued and continued for some minutes, rung -through the woods and welkin, and resounded from hill to hill, until -lost in the distance, after which the orator proceeded to the reading -of the Declaration of Independence. When he had read that part in these -words—"To secure these rights governments are instituted among men, -deriving their just powers from the <i>consent</i> of the <i>governed</i>. That -whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it -is the <small>RIGHT</small> of the <small>PEOPLE</small> to <i>alter</i> -or <i>abolish</i> it, and to institute -new governments,"<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> &c. -in which his feelings were deeply enlisted, he -concluded the clause by giving vent to them in the following fervid -comments: "<i>Behold</i> Americans!" cried he, "<i>behold</i> the <i>whole</i> of -<i>your</i> rights explained. Do you not <i>see</i> the figure which <small>EVERY</small> <i>one</i> -of you cuts?! Out of you <i>the power</i> comes, and <i>nothing</i> can be done -<i>without</i> you. Don't this prove what I said in my extompere address, -'<i>that their heads cannot work without you?</i>'" (Here a voice was heard -to cry, "By jingo, Jack, clap on your hat; ding it, do as I do!")</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> In the extract the words are in italics and small capitals -on which much stress was given by the reader.</small></blockquote> - -<p>The reading ended, the assemblage broke up and dispersed, leaving the -military to honor the day and orator in the manner already intimated, -during which many national and sentimental toasts were drunk; after -which they returned into the village in the military order they had -left it for the purpose of parading.</p> - -<p>Various evolutions were performed; among them occasionally a left -wheeling for a right—a countermarch for a right or left face—keeping -time with right or left foot indifferently. They carried arms either -upon the right or left—trailing, supporting, sloping, advancing—just -as it suited their own whim; in other words, <i>will</i>. In vain did their -commander command, threaten or entreat. A volunteer, bolder than the -rest, went so far as to ask the captain, "If he had forgot what they -had heard from the Declaration?" and hinting at his being commander so -long as they willed it. They felt that they were the sovereign people -and only citizen soldiers.</p> - -<p>At the order "halt!" they came to a stand, and were drawn out in a -line, facing the stream, for the purpose of firing their <i>feu de -joie</i>—an apt simile, by the way, of the state of their minds after the -closing scene of the hill. The orders for execution were simply, "prime -and load—ready—fire!" which was executed with tolerable precision. -Three rounds being fired, they were ordered to "right face!" in order -to file off and resume their march; but few only obeying the order, -some confusion took place in the ranks. "<i>Right face!</i>" again -vociferated the captain, whose impatience for shaking off his brief -authority was very apparent. Still the contumaceous kept their -position, declaring that they would not "<i>budge</i>" until they had -received the word to fire a fourth round, for which they had already -loaded. A dispute arose between the officers and men—the former -asserting and endeavoring to enforce their authority—the latter -denying and obstinately determined not to move until they had received -the word to discharge their pieces, considering the reservation of -their fire until the order be given a sufficient evidence of their -subordination. The captain finally yielded, and crying out, "make -ready—fire!" the fourth round went off, and the men filed off without -further hesitation; some at a common time—some at a quickstep—some -skipping, and one hopping; the captain brandishing his cutlass over the -<i>drummer's</i> pate for not "<i>treading in a straight line</i>"—the <i>fifer</i> -blowing off fractions of marches and quicksteps, and the lieutenants -endeavoring to keep order in the ranks. In this style they once more -marched out of the village, to partake for the last time of the -refreshment at the hill, and crown the celebration.</p> - -<p>The sun was just reclining upon the western mount when they made their -third and final entry into the village, in a march, technically known -as the "rout march," thereby showing that the effect of the "old corn" -was predominating.</p> - -<p>The omission of testifying their respect in a military manner to the -chief magistrate of the village during their first parade, had occurred -to them at the hill, and concluding that it had better be done late -than never, they had returned to the village, contrary to their -intention when they had left it, in the manner described, and drawing -up in front of the dwelling of that excellent man, they commenced and -kept up a tremendous firing, shouting and huzzaing until nightfall, -when all who were able dismissed themselves, (their officers having -abandoned them,) leaving many on the ground as it were <i>dead</i>—<i>pro tempore</i>.</p> - -<p>Thus terminated the village celebration of the anniversary of the day -out of which a great and virtuous nation was ushered into being. -However much our mirth may have been excited by the description given, -yet none will deny that the feeling which actuated them in their -celebration, was the identical feeling that dictates the observance of -the same day throughout the cities of the union—with this difference -only, that <i>this</i> savours of the pomp and circumstances of wealth, -pride and refinement, while <i>that</i> is perfectly in character with -nature,—true, simple and unsophisticated. I will conclude with a -quotation from Boileau.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem4"> - <tr><td><small>"La simplicité plaît sans étude et sans art.<br> - Tout charme en un enfant dont la langue sans faěd,<br> - A peine du filet encor débarrassée,<br> - Sait d'un air innocent bégayer sa pensée.<br> - Le faux est toujours fade, ennuyeux, languissant:<br> - Mais la nature est vraie, et d'abord on la sent;<br> - C'est elle seule en tout qu'on admire et qu'on aime."</small></td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">T. P. </div> - -<blockquote><i>Alexandria, November 1834</i>.</blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"> -<br> -<br> -<h5>EXTRACT FROM LACON.</h5> -<p>Mental pleasures never cloy; unlike those of the body, they are -increased by repetition, approved of by reflection, and strengthened by -enjoyment.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect10"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small><i>University of Virginia, Nov. 13th, -1834</i>. </small></div> - -<blockquote><small>To the Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>S<small>IR</small>—If you think the following verses worthy of an insertion in the -Messenger, you will gratify me by giving them a place. They were -written two or three years ago, by a young lady of this state; and it -certainly never was her intention to publish them, but I am induced to -offer them to the public eye, because I think they are creditable, and -that they will not appear disadvantageously in the Messenger.</small></blockquote> - -<div align="right"><small>R.</small> </div> - -<h4>TO D——.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem5"> - <tr><td> I'll think of thee—I'll think of thee<br> - In every moment of grief or of glee;<br> - The memory will come of these fleeting hours,<br> - Like the scent that is wafted from distant flow'rs;<br> - Like the faint, sweet echo that lingers on<br> - When the tones that waken'd it are gone.<br><br> - There's many a thought I may not tell,<br> - Hidden beneath the heart's deep swell;<br> - There's many a sweet and tender sigh<br> - Breath'd out when only God is nigh;<br> - And each familiar thing I see,<br> - Is blended with the thought of thee.<br><br> - Thy form will be miss'd from the social hearth,<br> - Thy voice from the mingling tones of mirth;<br> - When the sound of music is poured along—<br> - When my soul hangs entranced on the poet's song—<br> - When history points from her glowing page,<br> - To the deathless deeds of a former age—<br> - When my eye fills up and my heart beats high,<br> - I shall look in vain for thine answering eye.<br><br> - When the winds are lulled in the quiet sky,<br> - And the sparkling waters go surging by,<br> - And the cheering sun invites to walk,<br> - I shall miss thine arm and thy pleasant talk:<br> - My rustling step—the leafless tree—<br> - The very rock will speak of thee.<br><br> - I'll think of thee when the sunset dyes<br> - Are glowing bright in the western skies;<br> - When the dusky shades of evening's light<br> - Are melting away into deeper night—<br> - When the silvery moon looks bright above,<br> - Raising the tides of human love—<br> - When the holy stars look bright and far,<br> - I'll think of thee—my <i>guiding star!</i><br><br> - When all save the beating heart is still,<br> - And the chainless fancy soars at will,<br> - When it lifts the dark veil from future years,<br> - And flutters and trembles with hopes and fears,—<br> - When it turns to retrace the burning past,<br> - And the blinding tears come thick and fast—<br> - And oh! when bending the humble knee<br> - At the throne of God—I will <i>pray</i> for thee!<br><br> - And wilt thou sometimes think of me,<br> - When thy thoughts from this stormy world are free?<br> - When thou turnest o'erwearied from toil and strife<br> - The warring passions of busy life,<br> - May a still, small whispering, speak to thee,<br> - Like a touch on thy heartstring—Love, think of me.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">E. </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect11"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>INVOCATION TO RELIGION.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem6"> - <tr><td>Come blest Religion, meek-eyed maid,<br> - In all thy heavenly charms arrayed,<br> - Descend with healing in thy wing,<br> - And touch my heart while yet I sing.<br><br> - Heaven's own child of simple truth,<br> - The stay of age, the guide of youth,<br> - All spotless, pure and undefiled,<br> - How blest are those on whom you've smiled.<br><br> - Oh! come, as thou wert wont, and bless<br> - The widow and the fatherless—<br> - Temper the wind to the shorn lamb,<br> - Pour on the wounded heart thy balm;<br><br> - Strew softest flowers, where e're they stray,<br> - And pluck, oh! pluck the thorns away.<br> - Come like the good Samaritan,<br> - Bind up the sick and wounded man;<br><br> - Not like the Priest thy love display—<br> - Just look devout, and turn away.<br> - Oh! no—the bruised with kindness greet,<br> - And set the mourner on his feet.<br><br> - Teach me with warm affections pure,<br> - That holy Fountain to adore,<br> - From whence proceeds or life or thrift—<br> - The source of every perfect gift:<br><br> - Teach me thy fear—thy grace impart,<br> - And twine thy virtues round my heart;<br> - With pity's dew suffuse my eye,<br> - And teach me heavenly charity—<br><br> - That blessed love, which will not halt,<br> - Or stumble at a brother's fault;<br> - But with affection's tender care,<br> - Will still pursue the wanderer.<br><br> - Oh! teach my heart enough to feel,<br> - For human woe and human weal.<br> - Not that mad zeal, which works by force,<br> - And poisons goodness, at its source;<br><br> - But that mild, pure, persuasive love,<br> - Which thou hast brought us from above.<br> - Thro' thy fair fields, oh! fatal change,<br> - Let no distempered <i>maniac</i> range,—<br><br> - No frantic bigot spoil thy bowers,<br> - And blight thy pure and spotless flowers.<br> - Still, still, thou pure and heavenly dove,<br> - Still speed thy work of perfect love.<br><br> - Pursue the pilgrim on his road,<br> - And oh! take off his heavy load.<br> - Peace whisper to the troubled breast,<br> - And give the weary mourner rest—<br><br> - And when in that last awful hour,<br> - Death shall exert his fatal power,<br> - Oh! blunt the print of his keen dart,<br> - And sooth the pangs that rend the heart.<br><br> - When the last vital throb shall cease,<br> - Oh! be then present, with thy peace:<br> - Then let thy healing grace be given<br> - To light and waft our souls to Heaven.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">L. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Pittsylvania</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect12"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>BEAUTY AND TIME.</h4> - -<center><small>[Written under a vignette, representing a branch of roses<br> -with a scythe suspended over it, in a Lady's Album.]</small></center> -<br><br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem7"> - <tr><td>Emblem of woman's beauty,<br> - This blooming rose behold!<br> - Time's scythe is hanging o'er it,<br> - While yet its leaves unfold.<br><br> - Alas! that Time is ever<br> - To Beauty such a foe!<br> - How can she shun his power?<br> - How ward his withering blow?<br><br> - Has she no art to foil him,<br> - And turn his scythe aside?<br> - Must she, who conquers others,<br> - To him yield up her pride?<br><br> - Yes, yes, there is a conquest<br> - That Beauty gains o'er Time:<br> - Forget it not, ye fair ones,<br> - But prize the homely rhyme.<br><br> - For every charm he pilfers<br> - From Beauty's form or face,<br> - Upon the mind's fair tablet,<br> - Some new attraction trace.<br><br> - Thus, Time's assaults are fruitless,<br> - For, when her bloom is o'er,<br> - Woman, despite his malice,<br> - Is lovelier than before.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">S. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect13"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>ANTICIPATION.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem8"> - <tr><td>When life's last parting ray is shed,<br> - And darkness shrouds this pallid form;<br> - When I have laid this aching head,<br> - Secure from ev'ry earthly storm—<br><br> - Oh! then how sweet it is to think<br> - That some fond heart yet warm and true,<br> - Will cherish still the severed link<br> - Which death's rude hand has snapt in two.<br><br> - Who oft, at evening's pensive hour,<br> - From all the busy crowd will steal,<br> - To dress the vine and nurse the flower<br> - That deck my grave, with pious zeal.<br><br> - And ling'ring there, will lightly tread,<br> - As fearful to disturb my sleep,<br> - And oft relieve the drooping head<br> - Upon her slender hand, and weep.<br><br> - And oh! if in that world which rolls<br> - Sublime beyond this earthly sphere,<br> - That love still warms departed souls,<br> - Which once they fondly cherished here.<br><br> - Oh! yes, if in such hour is given,<br> - And parted souls such scenes may see,<br> - At that pure hour I'd leave e'en heav'n,<br> - And kiss the heart that wept for me.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">L. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Pittsylvania</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect14"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>HINTS TO STUDENTS OF GEOLOGY.</h4> - -<center><small>BY PETER A. BROWNE, ESQ.</small><br> -<br> -N<small>O</small>. I.</center> -<br> -<br> -<p>The word "<i>science</i>," in its most comprehensive sense, means -"knowledge." In its general acceptation, it is "knowledge reduced to a -system;" that is to say, arranged in regular order, so that it can be -conveniently taught, easily remembered, and readily applied to useful -purposes. An <i>art</i> is the application of knowledge to some practicable -end,—to answer some useful or ornamental purpose. The sciences, are -sometimes divided into the <i>abstract</i> and the <i>natural;</i> by the former -we are taught the knowledge of reasons and their conclusions; by the -latter we are enabled to find out causes and effects, and to study the -laws by which the material world is governed. To the abstract sciences -belong, first, language, whether oral or written, including grammar, -logic, &c.; secondly, notation, including arithmetic, algebra, -geometry, &c. Philosophy inquires into the laws that regulate the -phenomena of nature, whether in the material or immaterial world; it is -generally divided into three classes, two of which are material and one -immaterial. The material are, first, those which relate to number and -quantity; secondly, those which relate to matter. The immaterial are -those which relate to mind. The second class of the material is called -"natural philosophy" or "physics," and sometimes the "physical -sciences." Natural philosophy, in its most comprehensive sense, has for -its province the laws of matter, whether organic or inorganic. These -laws may regard either the motions or properties of matter, and hence -arises their division into two branches—first, those which regard the -<i>motions</i> of matter, which are called <i>mechanics;</i> and secondly, those -which regard the <i>properties</i> of matter, which are subdivided, and have -various names, according to the different objects of investigation. -When the inquiry is confined to organized bodies and life, it is called -physiology; which is again subdivided into zoology and botany. When it -treats of inorganic matter, it is subdivided into chemistry, anatomy, -medicine, mineralogy and geology. The principles of natural philosophy -rest upon <i>observation</i> and <i>experiment</i>. Observation is the noticing -of natural phenomena at they occur, without any attempt to influence -the frequency of their occurrence. Experiment consists in putting in -action causes and agents, over which we have control, for the purpose -of noticing their effects. From a comparison of a number of facts, -obtained from either observation or experiment, the existence of -general laws are proved. The laws of man are complicated; to understand -their objects, we are often obliged to take the most circuitous routes; -but the laws by which nature governs all her works are beautifully -simple, and they are found to lead directly to the end she has in view. -To study them, therefore, according to the rules that have been laid -down, viz: from observation and experiment, is pleasant and easy. The -principal difficulties that have arisen, are owing to the improper -manner in which the subjects connected with natural history have often -been treated. Natural philosophy regards what was the condition of -natural bodies: but many persons exert the whole force of their genius -to discover what they <i>might have been</i>. And as there is no department -of natural philosophy into which this erroneous method of procedure has -made greater inroads than geology, nor any science that has suffered so -severely in such conflicts, it may not be amiss to appropriate half an -hour to the inquiry whence this error has arisen; and, if possible, -point out the best method of avoiding its dangerous tendency. The word -geology is derived from two Greek words, signifying "the earth" and -"reason;" and it is that science which teaches the structure of the -crust of the earth, and ascertains its mineralogical materials, and the -order in which they are disposed, and their relations to each other. -Geognosy is used by the French as synonymous to geology, but in English -is generally understood to be synonymous to cosmogony; which is an -inquiry, or rather a speculation, as to the original formation or -creation of the world; hence geognosy has sometimes been called -"speculative geology." In pursuing the examinations to which geology -leads, we reason from facts, as is done in other branches of natural -science. The strata of the crust of the earth, owing to the disturbed -manner in which we now find them, are in a great measure open to our -examination; their composition, formation, deposition, eruption, -depression, succession, and mineralogical contents, are all objects of -sensation. The objects of geognosy (in the English sense of the word) -are, on the other hand, for the most part, ideal, visionary and -delusive. We are sensible that this earth exists and that it is -material, and therefore we know that it must have been created. We know -that it was not created by man, who hath not the power to add to it one -single atom, nor diminish it by a single grain—so that it is manifest -that it was created by a superior and omnipotent power; but by what -process it was done is a mystery, and the more we seek to discover it -the more we expose our ignorance. The geologist, like the -mathematician, deals with the understanding; his advance is wary, -admitting no conclusion until his premises are fully established. The -professor of geognosy, on the contrary, addresses himself entirely to -the imagination, and he delights in hypothesis and suppositions. The -progress of the geologist is necessarily slow; he is like the patient -miner, making his laborious but determined way into the solid rock: but -the professor of geognosy will make a world or even a universe in an -hour, for he deals in fancy and works in visionary speculations. The -geologist delves into the bowels of the earth in search of useful -metals, earths and combustible matters, which nature has kindly placed -within his reach, and he strives to turn them to the best advantage in -administering to the wants and increasing the comforts and convenience -of his fellow creatures; but all the labors of the professor of -geognosy are directed to discover a secret which appears to be hidden -from human ken; a secret, the discovery of which would not, as far as -we can judge, add any thing to the sum of human happiness. It excites -our astonishment therefore, that so many persons of fine genius and -brilliant talents should have wasted so much time in forming what are -called theories of the earth, who might have been so much better -employed in investigating the secondary causes by which the materials -composing the crust of this earth obtained their present forms, and in -examining the changes which those materials are daily undergoing. But -so it is; the curiosity so natural to our species opens the way—the -vanity of being supposed to have penetrated deeper than others into the -abstruse mysteries of nature urges them forward—the silly pride of -having in their own estimations discovered the hidden ways of -Providence quickens their zeal; and, such is the love of the -marvellous, that if they exhibit only a tolerable degree of ingenuity, -and embellish their performances with a few flowers of rhetoric, they -are sure to command more attention and praise from the general mass of -readers, than can be extorted by the most laborious examination of -nature's works. While Martin Lister was ridiculed by Doctor King for -the laudable minuteness with which he described the different natural -objects he met with in his journey through France, Mr. Thomas Burnet, -for a fanciful theory of the earth, was extravagantly lauded by a -writer in the Spectator. Saussure crossed the Alps in fourteen places; -Humboldt traversed nearly one half of the habitable globe; Cuvier spent -seven years in the study of comparative anatomy, as subservient to the -study of fossil remains; and Hauy studied geometry for the sole purpose -of obtaining a knowledge of crystalography; but neither of these -distinguished philosophers have been able to win the laurels that have -been heaped upon the brow of Count Buffon for a visionary hypothesis -which he calls a theory of the earth.</p> - -<p>The substitution of these hypotheses for knowledge, unfortunately, has -not been confined to the early and dark ages of geology. One entirely -new theory of the earth was published as lately as the year -1825—another in 1827—and a third in 1829. It is proper therefore that -the student should be warned against their fascinating and baneful influence.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect15"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>ESSAY ON LUXURY.</h4> -<br> - -<p>Of the various researches, which engage this enlightened age, there is -not one perhaps more important, whether we consider the public weal, or -the general interest of humanity, than that which concerns <i>luxury</i>. It -is regarded by some as the source of the greatest calamities; by others -as a source of opulence and industry. It has been said and repeated -thousands of times, that we often dispute, because we do not understand -each other, and that we give a different meaning to words we use, -because we do not define them with sufficient precision. This is -frequently true; but cases will often arise where, though the words of -a proposition are taken in precisely the same acceptation, and those -who employ them reason alike, yet the result of their reasonings are -diametrically opposite. Luxury has at all times been considered as a -cause of the corruption of morals, and the destruction of empires; but -in the last ages, it has not wanted its advocates—nay, they have even -pretended, that it was necessary to render empires flourishing, to -favor commerce, industry, circulation, manufactures; and that <i>it</i> alone -would redress the inequality of various conditions, by making the -superfluities of some contribute to relieve the necessities and wants -of others. The contrary has always been held as an irrefragible axiom. -But still its advocates maintain, that it nourishes all the refinements -of good taste, and developes the talents of the artist, whose art and -genius are encouraged by the profusion and prodigality which it -produces. This is indeed the favorable side of the picture; but how -often is it, that what we see in an object, is not all we might see -there, and that one truth by intercepting the view of others, conducts -us often to error. It is possible by considering the subject more -attentively, though we may find all we have said, true to a certain -degree, yet on the other hand, the evil, which excessive luxury -produces, is infinitely more dangerous;—and speculation will confirm -what the experience of all ages has demonstrated. It is an historical -and invariable truth, that excessive luxury has always been the -harbinger of the destruction of a state. I may add, it has always been -the fatal cause. Labor and economy are the principles of true -prosperity—the eclat of pomp and magnificence without them, is only a -false splendor, which conceals inward misery. But it is here, we must -stop for a moment, before we further advance, in order to have a -precise idea, of what we understand by the word <i>luxury</i>. If by it, we -mean every thing which exceeds the physical necessities of life, I -should apologize to the learned. But I do not mean to fix the boundary -by the laws of Lycurgus. I agree farther, that what may be luxury at -one time, is not so at another; but it is in this gradation, which may -be extended to infinity, that we ought wisely to seize that degree of -the scale, where it degenerates into vice—I mean political vice, which -far from being useful becomes prejudicial to a state. This distinction -is still local, individual, and subject to different times and eras. -What is a ruinous luxury in one country, would perhaps be useful or -indifferent in another. A destructive and indecent luxury in one order -of society, is honorable, indispensable and useful in another; and in -short, in a country where a certain degree of luxury is necessary, -there may be times, when sumptuary laws would be useful. If we proceed -to analyze its principles, we shall see that though abstractedly, -luxury may appear to produce certain advantages, yet in general it is -the cause of the greatest disorders. If the expense or luxury of each -individual were the thermometer of his fortune, the degree of luxury -would certainly be the symptom of power, riches, industry and opulence -of a state, but it would not on this account, be the cause; for what -must be the consequence, when vanity and self-love excited by opinion, -by custom and by pride, make us aspire at an external show far beyond -our condition in life, and run into extravagancies, which we cannot -support? This is to sap a commodious edifice in order to build a -larger, which we can never erect. The state loses the house and does -not gain the palace. In a country where luxury reigns, this example may -be seen every day and in every order of the state. The "Luxury" then of -which I speak, is that which prompts many to run into expenses, beyond -what their circumstances will admit, by the respect attached to it, and -by that contempt, with which those are treated, who do not maintain a -similar profusion; by the universality of the custom; and by the -opinions of others, which render the superfluous, the useless, the -frivolous, almost necessary and indispensable. It is on this account, -that the felicity, or apparent power, which luxury appears sometimes to -communicate to a nation, is comparable to those violent fevers, which -lend for a moment, incredible nerve to the wretch, whom they devour, -and which seem to increase the natural strength of man, only to deprive -him at length of that very strength and life itself. It is likewise -physically true, that excessive luxury impairs the body and destroys -courage. Effeminacy enervates the one, and artificial wants blunt the -other; wants multiplied become habitual, nor by diminishing the -pleasures of possession, do they always diminish the despair of -privation. Let us not say that the misfortunes of individuals, do not -concern the public; when many suffer, the public must feel it. If it -were true, that the possessions of those who are ruined, are found -dispersed among other individuals, the ruin of the unfortunate would -still be prejudicial to the state; because it is the number of -individuals in easy circumstances, which create its wealth. But it is -absolutely false, that those possessions are found in the mass of the -public; if the possession of each individual consisted in silver, this -might be so; but property for the most part is fictitious or -artificial: industry, credit, opinion, form a great part of the riches -of each individual,—which vanish, and are annihilated with the ruin of -his former possessions, and are forever lost with respect to the state. -Besides, lands are best cultivated, when divided among many hands. An -hundred husbandmen in easy circumstances, are infinitely more useful to -a state, than an hundred poor ones, or ten powerfully rich. It is the -quantity of consumers, who regularly make an honest, well supported and -permanent expense,—which augments industry, circulation, commerce, -manufactures, and all the useful arts. But when excessive luxury -causes, that the arts are lucrative in the inverse ratio of their -utility, the most necessary become the most neglected, and the state is -depopulated by the multiplication of subjects, who are a charge to it. -It is then we fall precisely into the case of him, who cuts down the -tree to get the fruit: what weakens each member of a body, must -necessarily weaken the body itself; but excessive luxury weakens, -without contradiction, each member of a body politic, physically and -morally,—consequently it must undermine and destroy the constitution -of that body. Another inconvenience attending luxury is, that according -to the order of nature, the propagation of the species ought -continually to increase in a country, if some inherent vice, either -physical or moral, do not prevent it. We have seen in those times, when -luxury prevailed only among the superior class, swarms issue from the -state, without depopulating it, in order to establish themselves in -other places. But the luxury of parents, whose baleful example is often -the sole inheritance of their offspring, forces them necessarily into a -state of celibacy; whereas it is evident, that by a division of -property among their children, the latter might, with industry and -care, having a principal to begin with, increase their hereditary -wealth and enrich the state. Every thing conspires, where luxury -reigns, to corrupt the morals. It eclipses, stifles, or rather destroys -the virtues. It knows no object but the gratification of certain -imaginary pleasures, more illusory than the honor, which it attracts. -Mankind are born perhaps with no particular bias to fraud or injustice. -It is want, either real or artificial, which creates the robber or the -murderer; but for the most part, those crimes, which are most dangerous -to society, take their origin from artificial wants, which ensue from -"Luxury." The brother violates the strongest ties of nature—the -patriot plunges the dagger into the bosom of his country. It was -"Luxury," which called from Jugurtha his celebrated observation on -Rome. It would be endless to attempt to enumerate the examples of ruin, -and of those calamities, which have ever followed in its train. But how -is this most dangerous of evils to be guarded against? Sumptuary laws -would not always be efficacious. They do not always answer the end -proposed. They are eluded by refinements upon "Luxury" until it becomes -"Luxury" in excess. It must be the province of the legislature to -prevent this abuse. The most effectual laws would be those, which would -remove that ridiculous respect, which is paid to frivolous exteriors, -and would attach real respect to merit alone; which would destroy that -unjust contempt into which modest simplicity has fallen by a depravity -of taste and reason. He, who by a wise legislation would discover the -secret of banishing those prejudices, would render an essential service -to humanity. Virtue and emulation would flourish—vice and folly no -longer appear. After all, I would not have it forgot, that I have -agreed, that what would be "Luxury" at one time, and for one order of -people, is not so for another. The "Luxury" which destroys a republic, -would not perhaps destroy a large kingdom; but there is a degree of -"Luxury" prejudicial to the most opulent monarchy. The universal use of -wine would be ruinous to this country, but not so to France. The detail -and analysis of those distinctions, are perhaps the most important -object to humanity. I am persuaded, that the public good, the repose of -families, and the happiness of the present and future generations -depend upon it.</p> -<div align="right">B. B. B. H. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect16"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>TO ——</h4> - -<center><small>"<i>Agite Mais Constant</i>."</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>"Though the speed with which we are hurried through the immensity of -space, is not perceptible to our vision; yet the <i>truth</i> that '<i>Time</i> -is ever on the wing,' should teach us to be wise while it is called -'<i>to-day</i>.'"</small></blockquote> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem9"> - <tr><td>Pleasures of <i>time</i> and <i>sense</i> can give<br> - No hope or real joy;<br> - They leave an aching void behind,<br> - Are mixed with base alloy.<br><br> - Say, wouldst thou twine a lasting wreath<br> - To deck thy forehead fair,<br> - Go—wipe away the <i>widow's</i> tear,<br> - And sooth the <i>orphan's</i> care.<br><br> - Wouldst thou be meet to join the choir<br> - Who sing in endless bliss,<br> - Go—drink at that Eternal Fount,<br> - Whose stream shall never cease.<br><br> - Wouldst thou improve the talents here,<br> - Transmitted from above;<br> - Go—turn the sinner from his way,<br> - And prove a Saviour's love.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>POWHATAN</small>. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"> -<br> -<br> -<h5>EXTRACT.</h5> - -<p>Men will wrangle for religion; write for it; fight for it; die for it; -any thing but—<i>live</i> for it.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect17"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>ELOQUENCE.</h4> -<br> - -<p>In the long list of powers and endowments, we can select no faculty or -attainment more useful and ennobling than that of eloquence. -Brightening the gloom of intellect, and awakening the energies of -feeling, it holds reason mute at its will and enkindles passion with -its touch. The soldier on the tented field is incited to the charge, -and animated in the conflict, and his last moments sweetened, by the -magic of its influence. The cries of injured innocence it converts into -notes of gladness, and the tears of sadness and sorrow into smiles of -pleasure and rejoicing. The miser, gazing on the beauty of his coin, -and living on the manna of its presence, and kneeling to its power as -his idol, is taught to weep over his error, bow to his Creator, and -despise the degrading destroyer of his peace. The infidel, unswayed by -the voice of divinity, and ignorant of its attributes, and doubtful of -its existence, enraptured with the glowing efforts of ethereal -eloquence, is convicted of his depravity, and yields to the resistless -current, which swelling in its onward course, dispels the cloud that -obscures the mind, and leaves it pure and elevated. In the courts of -justice, the criminal, his heart imbittered with torturing despair, and -his soul torn with agonizing anguish, beholds his arms unshackled, his -character unsullied by even suspicious glance, and futurity studded -with honors, station and dignity. In the halls of legislation, -corruption is unmasked, intrigue is exposed, and tyranny overthrown. -Where is its matchless excellence inapplicable? The rich and the poor -experience its effects. The guilty are living monuments of its -exertion, and the innocent hail it as the vindicator of its violated -rights and the preserver of its sacred reputation. In the cause of -mercy it is ever omnipotent; bold in the consciousness of its -superiority, and fearless and unyielding in the purity of its motives, -it destroys all opposition and defies all power. The godlike Sheridan, -unequalled and unrivalled, swayed all by its electric fire, charmed and -enthralled the weak and the timid, and chained and overpowered the -profound and the prejudiced. Burke, the great master of the human -heart, deeply versed in its feelings and emotions, "struck by a word, -and it quivered beneath the blow; flashed the light'ning glance of -burning, thrilling, animated eloquence"—and its hopes and fears were -moulded to his wish. Curran, whose speeches glitter with corruscations -of wit, and sentiment, and genius, and whose soul burned with kindred -feelings for its author, and teemed with celestial emanations, -astonished, elevated and enraptured. Pitt, and Fox, and Henry, and Lee, -and other great and gifted spirits of that golden age, have all -unfolded the grandeur of its sublimity, the richness of its -magnificence, and the splendor of its sparkling beauties.</p> - -<p>At a later period, when the rising generation caught the living spark -as it fell from the lips of their giant fathers; a Phillips has pleased -and fascinated by the grace and vigor of his action, the strength and -fervor of his imagination, and the dignity and suavity of his manner; -by the warmth of his feelings and the quickness of his perceptions. A -Canning, by the brilliance of his mind, beaming with gems of classic -literature; the perspicuity of his diction, rich in the beauties of our -language; and the commanding force of his voice, now surpassing in its -deep sternness the echoing thunder, and now, soft, and sweet, and -mellow as the dying cadence of a flute, has never failed to arouse, and -enliven, and convince. And a Brougham, with a profound and -comprehensive intellect, deep and capacious as ocean's channels, with -great powers of close and sound reasoning; with an extensive knowledge -of the past and the present, with untiring energies and unremitted -industry, wields a concentrated mass of overwhelming argument, and -hurls a thunderbolt of eloquence, subduing and crushing in its -impetuous course. In our own country, so fertile in the highest orders -of mind, and so successful in nurturing, and expanding, and -invigorating its faculties, we may point to Calhoun, and Webster, and -Clay, and McDuffie, as the master spirits of the age. Their varied -endowments; their chaste language; their pure and sublime style; their -bitter and withering irony; their keen and searching sarcasm; their -vast range of thought and unequalled condensation of argument, command -the admiration and excite the wonder of men.</p> - -<p>That eloquence has been productive of immense good, no one can deny or -doubt. From the earliest ages it has been assiduously cultivated, and -ranked among the highest attainments of the human mind. So great and -elevated was it deemed by the Athenians—so grand the results of its -application, and so distinguished in their councils were those who -possessed it—that the young Demosthenes, inspired with quenchless -ardor for its acquisition, bent all the energies of his gifted -intellect to the task—opposed and triumphed over every obstacle that -nature presented to his advancement—heeded not the scoffs and hisses -of the multitude on the decided failure of his first endeavors—and at -length as the recompense for his toils, reached the pinnacle of -renown—received the gratulations of an admiring age, and beheld his -brow encircled with the wreath of victory, immortal as his glory, and -unfading as the memory of his deeds. While language continues to exist, -and breathe in beauty and vigor the conceptions of mind, his -phillippics, rich in forcible and magnificent expression, in sublime -thought, and bold and resistless eloquence, will survive. And the -fervent, and holy, and incorruptible patriotism that speaks in every -line, must elicit unbounded veneration. His matchless powers, never -exerted but for the public good, inspired his enemies with respect and -fear, and forced the mighty Philip to acknowledge, "that he had to -contend against a great man indeed." Cicero too, entitled by a -contemporary philosopher and orator,<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> -one by no means addicted to -flattering or giving even unnecessary praise, "The Father of his -Country," has proved by a long and active career of usefulness and -honor, the beneficial effects of this inestimable power. Who can -conceive any thing more thrilling and overwhelming than his orations -against Cataline? We can see the patriot orator, sternly bold, from the -magnitude of his cause—for the lives of millions depended upon his -success—hatred and abhorrence depicted in his face; indignation -flashing from his eye—for love of country was his impelling motive; -energy and passion in his every action, and the living lava bursting -from his lips;—and the victim, shrinking awe-stricken away—his -baseness exposed—his treacherous schemes unfolded to public gaze; he -flies a blasted and withering thing—a reckless and degraded outlaw. -This is but one of his numerous triumphs, which, stamped with the seal -of immortality, have secured to him a fame as imperishable as time -itself. It was by eloquence that the apostle of christianity so aroused -the apprehensions and pierced the hardened conscience of the heathen -Agrippa, that in the fulness of contrition he exclaimed, "thou almost -persuadest me to be a christian." With it, the -fisherman<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> of Naples -declared to the populace the sanctity of their rights—explained the -violation of their chartered privileges, and pointed out the means of -securing justice—denounced their rulers as tyrants, and swore upon the -altar of his country to revenge them. The multitude, through -instinctive esteem for intellectual capacities, however humble the -station of their possessor, and urged by the enthusiasm he had excited, -obeyed his every word. Passive in his hands, he guided them to the -maintenance of their freedom and the expulsion of domestic foes. To its -influence we may ascribe the commencement of our Revolution, and the -tameless spirit which animated our fathers in the struggle. Even now -its effects are visible every where around us. We see that the seducer -is lashed into remorse and contrition, and the traitor has received the -reward for his crime. In the chambers of congress its fire burns with -increasing lustre, and sheds unending sparks of brilliancy and -strength. When properly directed, it is the inseparable companion of -liberty; and so long as it continues thus—so long as its efforts are -characterized by purity and patriotism, the prosperity, union, and -above all, the freedom of these states, will remain secure.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Cato of Utica.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Massaniello.</small></blockquote> - -<div align="right">H. M. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect18"></a> -<br> -<br> - -<h4>LETTERS FROM NEW ENGLAND.—NO. 2.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>Our readers will participate with us in the pleasure of reading the -second letter from <i>New England</i>, by an accomplished Virginian, whose -easy and forcible style is so well employed in depicting the manners -and character of a portion of our countrymen, separated from us not -more by distance, than by those unhappy prejudices which too often -spring up between members of the same family. The acute observation of -men and things which these letters evince, will entitle them to be -seriously read and considered,—and they will not have been written in -vain, if they serve to remove the misconceptions of a single mind. We -repeat what we stated in our last number, that although they were -originally published in the Fredericksburg Arena, they have since -undergone the revision and correction of the author expressly for -publication in the Messenger.</small></blockquote> -<br> - -<div align="right"><i>Northampton, Mass. July 25, 1834</i>. </div> - -<p>Of <i>Yankee hospitality</i> (curl not your lip sardonically—you, or any -other Buckskin,)—of <i>Yankee hospitality</i> there is a great deal, <i>in -their way</i>—i.e. according to the condition and circumstances of -society. Not a tittle more can be said of Virginia hospitality. Set one -of our large farmers down upon a hundred, instead of a thousand, acres; -let him, and his sons, cultivate it themselves; feed the cattle; rub -down and feed the horses; milk the cows; cut wood and make fires; let -his wife and daughters alone tend the garden; wash, iron, cook, make -clothes, make the beds, and clean up the house; let him have but ten -acres of wood land, in a climate where snow lies three, and frosts come -for seven, months a year; surround him with a dense population—80, -instead of 19, to the square mile; bring strangers, constantly, in -flocks to his neighborhood; place a cheap and comfortable inn but a -mile or two off; give him a ready and near market for his garden -stuffs, as well as for his grain and tobacco—and ask yourself, if he -could, or would, practise our "good old Virginia hospitality?" To us, -who enjoy the credit and the pleasure of entertaining a guest, while -the drudgery devolves upon our slaves; the larger scale (wastefully -large) of our daily <i>rations</i>, too, making the presence of one or more -additional mouths absolutely unfelt;—hospitality is a cheap, easy, and -delightful virtue. But put us in place of the yankees, in the foregoing -respects, and any man of sense and candor must perceive that we could -not excel them. Personal observation and personal experience, make me -"a swift witness" to their having, in ample measure, the kindliness of -soul, which soothes and sweetens human life: a kindliness ready to -expand, when occasion bids, as well towards the stranger, as towards -the object of nearer ties. No where have I seen <i>equal</i> evidences of -public spirit; of munificent charity; of a generous yielding up of -individual advantage to the common good. No where, more, or lovelier, -examples of domestic affection and happiness—evinced by tokens, small -it is true, but not to be counterfeited or mistaken. And no where have -I had entertainers task themselves more to please and profit me, as a -guest. Yet, as <i>you</i> know, few can have witnessed more of Virginia -hospitality than I have. It would be unpardonable egotism, and more -<i>personal</i> than I choose to be, even in bestowing just praise; besides -"spinning my yarn" too long—to do more than glance at the many -kindnesses, which warrant the audacious heresy, of comparing our -northern brethren with ourselves, in our most prominent virtue. -Gentlemen, some of them of advanced years, and engaged in such -pursuits, as make their time valuable both to themselves and the -public, have devoted hours to shewing me all that could amuse or -interest a stranger, in their vicinities—accompanying me on foot, and -driving me in their own vehicles, for miles, to visit scenes of present -wonder, or of historic fame: patiently answering my innumerable -questions; and explaining, with considerate minuteness, whatever -occurred as needing explanation, in the vast and varied round of moral -and physical inquiry. In surveying literary, charitable, and political -institutions—in trying to ascertain, by careful, and doubtless, -troublesome cross-questionings, the structure and practical effects of -judicial, and school, and pauper systems—in examining the machinery -(human and inanimate) of manufactories—in probing their tendencies -upon minds and morals—in 'stumbling o'er recollections,' in Boston, on -Bunker's hill, and around Lexington—I found guides, enlighteners, and -hosts, such as I can never hope to see surpassed, if equalled, for -friendliness and intelligence. A friend of ours from Virginia, who was -in the city of Boston with his family when I was, carried a letter of -introduction to one of the citizens. "This gentleman, for three days," -said our friend, "gave himself up entirely to us; brought his carriage -to the hotel, and carried us in it over the city, and all its beautiful -environs; in short, he seemed to think that he could not do enough to -amuse and gratify us." To enjoy such treatment as this, one must, of -course, in general, come introduced, by letter or otherwise. Then—nay, -according to my experience, in some instances without any -introduction,—the tide of kindness flows as ungrudgingly as that of -Virginia hospitality, and far more beneficially to the object: at an -expense, too, not only of money, but of time—which here, more -emphatically than any where else in America, <i>is money</i>. When -travelling on foot, I had no letters to present—no introduction, -except of myself. Still, unbought civilities, and more than civilities, -usually met me. A farmer, at whose house I obtained comfortable -quarters on the first night of my walk, refused all compensation, -giving me at the same time a hearty welcome, and an invitation to stay -to breakfast. Next day, a man in a jersey wagon, overtook me, and -invited me to ride with him. I did so, for an hour, while our roads -coincided: and found him intelligent, as well as friendly. Whenever I -wanted, along the road, refreshing drinks were given me;—cider, -switchell, and water—the two first always unasked for. One <i>gudewife</i>, -at whose door I called for a glass of water, made me sit down, treated -me abundantly to cider; and, finding that my object was to see the -country and learn the ways of its people, laid herself out to impart -such items of information as seemed likely to interest me: wishing me -'great success' at parting. Many similar instances of kindness -occurred. It is true, none of the country people invited me to partake -of their meals, except my first host just mentioned—an omission, -however, for which I was prepared, because it arose naturally from the -condition of things here. One testimonial more you shall have, to New -England benevolence, from a third person. A deserter from the British -navy—moneyless, shoeless, with only yarn socks on; feet blistered—and -actually suffering from a fever and ague—told me that he had walked -all the way from Bath, in Maine, to the neighborhood of Hartford, where -I overtook him, entirely upon charity; and <i>had never asked for food or -shelter in vain</i>. A lady that day had given him a clean linen shirt. -There was no whining in this poor fellow's tale of distress: his tone -was manly, and his port erect: he seemed, like a true sailor, as frank -in accepting relief, as he would be free in giving it.</p> - -<p>The result of all my observation is, that the New Englanders have in -their hearts as much of the <i>original material</i> of hospitality as we -have: that, considering the sacrifices it costs them, and the -circumstances which modify its application, they <i>actually use</i> as much -of that material as we do; and that, although their mode of using it is -less <i>amiable</i> than ours, it is more <i>rational</i>, more -<i>salutary</i>—better for the guest, better for the host, better for -society. And most gladly would I see my countrymen and countrywomen -exchange the ruinous profusion; which, to earn, or preserve, a -vainglorious name, pampers and stupifies themselves and impoverishes -their country, for the discriminating and judicious hospitality of New -England: retaining only those freer and more captivating traits of -their own, which are warranted by our sparser settlements, our ampler -fields, and our different social organization.</p> - -<p>Yet, while such praise is due to the general civility and kindness of -the New Englanders, it must be qualified by saying, that several times, -I have experienced discourtesy, which chafed me a good deal: but always -from persons who, in their own neighborhoods, would be considered as -vulgar. The simplest and most harmless question, propounded in my -<i>civilest</i> manner, has occasionally been answered with a gruffness, -that would for half a minute upset my equanimity. For example—"Good -morning sir" (to a hulking, rough, carter-looking fellow, one hot -morning, when I had walked eight miles before breakfast)—"how far to -Enfield?" "Little better 'an a mile,"—was the answer; in an abrupt, -surly, unmodulated tone, uttered without even turning his head as he -passed me. Two or three of "mine hosts," at inns, were churlishly -grudging in their responses to my inquiries about the products, usages, -and statistics, of their neighborhoods. For these, however, I at once -saw a twofold excuse: they were very busy and my questions were very -numerous—besides the irritating circumstance, that answers were not -always at hand—and to be <i>posed</i>, is what flesh and blood cannot bear. -And it makes me think no worse than before, either of human nature in -general, or of Yankee character in particular, that such slights -occurred, nearly in every instance, whilst I was a somewhat shabby -looking way-farer on foot; scarcely ever, while travelling in stage, or -steamboat. Such distinctions are made, all the world over: in Virginia, -as well as elsewhere.</p> - -<p>A Southron, not accustomed to wait much upon himself, here feels -sensibly the scantiness of the personal service he meets with. Even -I—though for years more than half a Yankee in that respect—missed, -rather awkwardly, on first coming hither, the superfluous, and often -cumbersome attentions of our southern waiters. Besides having -frequently to brush my own clothes, I am put to some special trouble in -the best hotels, to get my shoes cleaned. In many village inns, -sumptuous and comfortable in most respects, this last is a luxury -hardly to be hoped for. This scarcity of menial service arises partly -from the nice economy, with which the number of hands about a house is -graduated to the general, and smallest possible, quantity of necessary -labor; and partly, from a growing aversion to such services among the -"help" themselves, caused, or greatly heightened, by the increased -demand and higher wages for them in the numerous manufactories -throughout the country. Almost every where, I am told of their asking -higher pay, and growing more fastidious, and intractable, as household -servants. "<i>Servants</i>" indeed, they will not allow themselves to be -called. A "marry-come-up-ish" toss, if not an immediate quitting of the -house, is the probable consequence of so terming them. The above, more -creditable designation, is that which must be used—at least in their -presence. By the by, though the gifted author of "Hope Leslie" says -that the <i>singular</i> plural, "help," alone, is proper, I find popular -usage ("<i>quem penes arbitrium</i>"—you know) sanctioning the regular -plural form "helps," whenever reference is made to more than one.</p> - -<p>The spirit, and the habits, which oblige one to do so much for himself -within doors, produce corresponding effects without. Useful labor is no -where disdained in New England, by any class of society. Proprietors, -and their sons, though wealthy, frequently work on the farms, and in -the gardens, stables, and barns. Two or three days ago, I saw an old -gentleman (Squire ——) a justice of the peace, and for several years a -useful member of the Legislature, toiling in his hay harvest. Two of -the richest men in this village—possessing habitations among the most -elegant in this assemblage of elegant dwellings—I have seen busy with -hoe and rake, in their highly cultivated grounds. The wife of a -tavern-keeper, in Rhode Island, worth $40,000, prepared my breakfast, -and waited upon me at it, with a briskness such as I never saw -equalled. Similar instances are so frequent and familiar, as to be -unnoticed except by strangers. Many of New England's eminent men of -former days, were constant manual laborers; not only in boyhood, and in -obscurity, but after achieving distinction. Putnam, it is well known, -was ploughing when he heard of the bloody fray at Lexington; and left -both plough and team in the field, to join and lead in the strife for -liberty. Judge Swift, of Connecticut, who wrote a law -book<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> of some -merit, and, I believe, a History of Connecticut, was a regular laborer -on his farm, whilst he was a successful practiser of the Law. An -amusing story is told (which I cannot now stop to repeat) of his being -severely drubbed by the famous Matthew Lyon, then his indented servant; -while they worked together in the barn. Timothy Pickering, after -serving with distinction through the revolution—being aid to General -Washington, Representative and Senator in Congress, and Secretary of -State—spent the evening of his unusually prolonged and honored life, -in the culture of a small farm of 120 or 130 acres, with a suitably -modest dwelling, near Salem, Mass.: literally, and through necessity, -(for he was always poor) earning his bread by his own daily toil. With -Dr. Johnson, I deride the hacknied pedantry of a constant recurrence to -ancient Greece and Rome—without, however, being quite ready to "knock -any man down who talks to me about the second Punic War." But, in -contemplating the stern virtues, that poverty and rural toil fostered -in those earlier worthies of New England, and that still animate the -"bold yeomanry, a nation's pride," who yet hold out against the -advancing tide of wealth, indolence, and luxury—I cannot forbear an -exulting comparison of these my countrymen, with the pure and hardy -spirits that graced the best days of republican Rome:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem10"> - <tr><td><small>Regulum, et Scauros, animćque magnć<br> - Prodigum Paulum superante Poeno,<br><br> - * - * - * - * *<br><br> - - Fabriciumque,<br> - Hunc, et incomptis Curium capillis<br> - Utilem bello, tulit, et Camillum,<br> - Sćva paupertas, et avitus apto<br> - - Cum lare fundus.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> On Evidence, and Bills -of Exchange and Promissory Notes.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In the household economy of these thrifty and industrious people, it -were endless to specify all the things worthy of our imitation. Their -use of cold bread conduces to good in a threefold way: a less quantity -satisfies the appetite, and it is in itself more digestible than warm -bread; thus doubly promoting health: while there is a sensible saving -of flour. The more frugal scale upon which their ordinary meals are set -forth, is another point in which for the sake of economy, health, and -clearness of mind, we might do well to copy them. By burning seasoned -wood, kept ready for the saw in a snug house built on purpose, and by -the simple expedient of having the doors shut and all chinks carefully -closed, they secure warm rooms with half the fuel that would otherwise -be necessary. I cannot, however, forgive their bringing no buttermilk -to table. The <i>natives</i> seem wholly ignorant, how pleasant and -wholesome a food it is for man; and give it to their pigs. The -hay-harvest lasts from four to six weeks; it has been going on ever -since the 1st of July. Of course, the hay cut at such different periods -must vary greatly in ripeness: and here they confirm me in a long -standing belief, which I have striven in vain to impress upon some -Virginia hay farmers—that the hay, cut before the <i>seeds</i> are nearly -ripe, is always best. The earlier part of the mowing, (where the crop -is about equally forward) is most juicy, sweet and tender. The corn is -now in tassel, having attained nearly its full height: the height of -about five feet, on rich land! It is a sort differing from ours: small -in grain and ear, as well as in stalk; and very yellow grained. It -ripens in less time than ours; adapting itself to the shorter summers -of this latitude. It is planted very thick: three or four stalks in a -hill, and the hills but three feet apart.</p> - -<p>With many vegetables and fruits, the season is five or six weeks later -here than in Virginia. Thus, garden peas are still, every day, on the -tables: I had cherries in Boston last week, of kinds which ripened with -us early in June; and it is but a fortnight, since strawberries, both -red and white, were given me in Connecticut—by the way, it was <i>at -breakfast</i>.</p> - -<p>On the margin of this village, is a curious agricultural exhibition. It -is a large tract of flat land upon Connecticut river, of great -fertility and value (one hundred and fifty or two hundred dollars an -acre,) containing altogether several thousand acres. With one or two -trifling exceptions, it has no houses or dividing fences upon it, -though partitioned among perhaps two hundred proprietors. Hardly an -opulent, or <i>middling</i> wealthy man in Northampton, but owns a lot of -five, ten, twenty, or fifty acres, in this teeming expanse. The lots -are all in crops, of one kind or other; and being mostly of regular -shapes (oblongs, or other four sided figures,) the various aspects they -present, accordingly as the crop happens to be deep green, light green, -or yellow—mown, or unmown—afford a singular and rich treat, to an eye -that can at once survey the whole. Most opportunely, Mount Holyoke (the -great lion of western Massachusetts, to scenery-hunters,) furnishes the -very stand, whence not only this lovely plain is seen, but the river, -its valley, and the adjacent country, for twenty or thirty miles -around. Nearly a thousand feet below you, and not quite a mile from the -foot of the mountain, the low ground, fantastically chequered into lots -so variously sized and colored—dwindling too, by the distance, into -miniatures of themselves—reminds you of a gay bed-quilt. A lady of our -party (we ascended the mountain this afternoon, and staid till after -sunset,) aptly compared it to a Yankee <i>comfort;</i> the elms and fruit -trees dotted over the surface, and shrunk and softened in the distance, -representing the tufts of wool which besprinkle that appropriately -named article of furniture. The whole landscape, seen from Mount -Holyoke, it would be presumptuous in me to try to describe. I have -said, twenty or thirty miles around: but in one direction, we see, in -clear weather, the East and West Rocks, near New Haven—about seventy -miles off. Fourteen villages are within view. The whole scene is -panoramic: it is as vivid and distinct as reality; but rich, soft and -mellow, as a picture. We descended; and as we recrossed the river by -twilight, the red gleams from the western sky, reflected in long lines -from the dimpling water, forced upon more than one mind that fine -passage in a late work of fiction, where the remark, that "no man can -judge of the happiness of another," is illustrated by the reflection of -moon-beams from a lake. But I am growing lack-a-daisical: and must -conclude.</p> - -<p>I set off in the stage for Albany, at two o'clock in the morning. Good -night.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect19"></a> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>We copy the following production of Mrs. Sigourney from the "<i>American -Annuals of Education and Instruction</i>," a periodical published in -Boston. It is difficult to decide whether the prose or poetry of this -distinguished lady is entitled to preference. Her noble efforts in -behalf of her own sex deserve their gratitude and our admiration.</small></blockquote> - -<h4>ON THE POLICY OF ELEVATING THE STANDARD OF FEMALE EDUCATION.</h4> - -<center><small>Addressed to the American Lyceum, May, 1834.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<p>The importance of education seems now to be universally admitted. It -has become the favorite subject of some of the wisest and most gifted -minds. It has incorporated itself with the spirit of our vigorous and -advancing nation. It is happily defined by one of the most elegant of -our living writers, as the "<i>mind of the present age, acting upon the -mind of the next</i>." It will be readily perceived how far this machine -surpasses the boasted lever of Archimedes, since it undertakes not -simply the movement of a mass of matter, the lifting of a dead planet -from its place, that it might fall, perchance, into the sun and be -annihilated; but the elevation of that part of man whose power is -boundless, and whose progress is eternal, the raising of a race "made -but a little lower than the angels," to a more entire assimilation with -superior natures.</p> - -<p>In the benefits of an improved system of education, the female sex are -now permitted liberally to participate. The doors of the temple of -knowledge, so long barred against them, have been thrown open. They are -invited to advance beyond its threshold. The Moslem interdict that -guarded its hidden recesses is removed. The darkness of a long reign of -barbarism, and the illusions of an age of chivalry, alike vanish, and -the circle of the sciences, like the shades of Eden, gladly welcome a -new guest.</p> - -<p>While gratitude to the liberality of this great and free nation is -eminently due from the feebler sex, they have still a boon to request. -They ask it as those already deeply indebted, yet conscious of ability -to make a more ample gift profitable to the <i>giver</i> as well as to the -<i>receiver</i>. It seems desirable that their education should combine more -of thoroughness and solidity, that it should be expanded over a wider -space of time, and that the depth of its foundation should bear better -proportion to the height and elegance of its superstructure. Their -training ought not to be for display and admiration, to sparkle amid -the froth and foam of life, and to become enervated by that indolence -and luxury, which are subversive of the health and even the existence -of a republic. They should be qualified to act as teachers of knowledge -and of goodness. However high their station, this office is no -derogation from its dignity; and its duties should commence whenever -they find themselves in contact with those who need instruction. The -adoption of the motto, that <i>to teach is their province</i>, will inspire -diligence in the acquisition of a knowledge, and perseverance in the -beautiful mechanism of pure example.</p> - -<p>It is requisite that they who have, in reality, the <i>moulding of the -whole mass of mind in its first formation</i>, should be profoundly -acquainted with the structure and capacities of that mind; that they -who nurture the young citizens of a prosperous republic, should be able -to demonstrate to them, from the broad annals of history, the blessings -which they inherit, and the wisdom of preserving them, the value of -just laws, and the duty of obeying them. It is indispensable that they -on whose bosom the infant heart is laid, like a germ in the quickening -breast of spring, should be vigilant to watch its first unfoldings, and -to direct its earliest tendrils where to twine. It is unspeakably -important, that they who are commissioned to light the lamp of the -soul, should know how to feed it with pure oil; that they to whose hand -is entrusted the welfare of a being never to die, should be able to -perform the work, and earn the wages of heaven.</p> - -<p>Assuming the position that <i>females are by nature designated as -teachers</i>, and that the mind in its most plastic state is their pupil, -it becomes a serious inquiry, <i>what they will be likely to teach</i>. They -will, of course, impart what they best understand, and what they most -value. They will impress their own peculiar lineaments upon the next -generation. If vanity and folly are their predominant features, -posterity must bear the likeness. If utility and wisdom are the objects -of their choice, society will reap the benefit. This influence is most -palpably operative in a government like our own. Here the intelligence -and virtue of every individual possesses a heightened relative value. -The secret springs of its harmony may be touched by those whose -birth-place was in obscurity. Its safety is interwoven with the welfare -of all its subjects.</p> - -<p>If the character of those to whom the charge of schools is committed, -has been deemed not unworthy the attention of lawgivers, is not <i>her</i> -education of consequence, who begins her labor before any other -instructor, who pre-occupies the unwritten page of being, who produces -impressions which nothing on earth can efface, and stamps on the cradle -what will exist beyond the grave, and be legible in eternity?</p> - -<p>The ancient republics overlooked the worth of that half of the human -race, which bore the mark of physical infirmity. Greece, so exquisitely -susceptible to the principle of beauty, so skilled in wielding all the -elements of grace, failed to appreciate the latent excellence of woman. -If, in the brief season of youth and bloom, she was fain to admire her -as the acanthus-leaf of her own Corinthian capital, she did not -discover, that like that very column, she might have added stability to -the temple of freedom. She would not believe that her virtues might -have aided in consolidating the fabric which philosophy embellished and -luxury overthrew.</p> - -<p>Rome, notwithstanding her primeval rudeness, and the ferocity of her -wolf-nursed greatness, seems more correctly, than polished Greece, to -have estimated the "weaker vessel." Here and there, upon the storm -driven billows of her history, the form of woman is distinctly visible, -and the mother of the Gracchi still stands forth in strong relief, amid -that imagery, over which time has no power. Yet where the brute force -of the warrior was counted godlike, the feebler sex were prized, only -in their approximation to the energy of a sterner nature, as clay was -held in combination with iron, in the feet of that mysterious image -which troubled the visions of the Assyrian king.</p> - -<p>To some of the republics of South America, the first dawn of liberty -gave a light which Greece and Rome, so long her favored votaries, never -beheld. Even in the birth of their political existence, they discovered -that the sex whose <i>strength is in the heart</i>, might exert an agency in -modifying national character. New Grenada set an example which the -world had not before seen. Ere the convulsive struggles of revolution -had subsided, she unbound the cloistered foot of woman, and urged her -to ascend the heights of knowledge. She established a college for -females, and gave its superintendence to a lady of talent and -erudition. We look with solicitude toward the result of this -experiment. We hope that our sisters of the "cloud-crowned Andes," may -be enabled to secure and to diffuse the blessings of education, and -that from their abodes of domestic privacy, a hallowed influence may go -forth, which shall aid in reducing a chaos of conflicting elements to -order, and symmetry, and permanent repose.</p> - -<p>In our own country, man, invested by his Maker with the "right to -reign," has nobly conceded to her, who was for ages a vassal, equality -of intercourse, participation in knowledge, guardianship over his -dearest possessions, and his fondest hopes. He is content to "bear the -burden and heat of the day," that she may dwell in plenty, and at ease. -Yet from the very felicity of her lot, dangers arise. She is tempted to -rest in superficial attainments, to yield to that indolence which -spreads like rust over the intellect, and to merge the sense of her own -responsibilities in the slumber of a luxurious life. These tendencies -should be neutralized by an education of utility, rather than of -ornament. Sloth and luxury, the subverters of republics, should be -banished from her vocabulary. It is expedient that she be surrounded in -youth with every motive to persevering industry, and severe -application; and that in maturity she be induced to consider herself an -ally in the cares of life, especially in the holy labor of rearing the -immortal mind. While her partner stands on the high places of the -earth, toiling for his stormy portion of that power or glory from which -it is her privilege to be sheltered, let her feel that to her, in the -recesses of the domestic sphere, is entrusted the culture of that -knowledge and virtue, which are the strength of a nation. Happily -secluded from lofty legislation and bold enterprise, with which her -native construction has no affinity, she is still accountable to the -government by which she is protected, for the character of those who -shall hereafter obtain its honors, and control its functions.</p> - -<p>Her place is in the quiet shade, to watch the little fountain, ere it -has breathed a murmur. But the fountain will break forth into a stream, -and the swelling rivulet rush toward the sea; and she, who was first at -the fountain head and lingered longest near the infant streamlet, might -best guide it to right channels; or, if its waters flow complaining and -turbid, could truest tell what had troubled their source.</p> - -<p>Let the age which has so freely imparted to woman the treasures of -knowledge, add yet to its bounty, by inciting her to gather them with -an unremitting and tireless hand, and by expecting of her the highest -excellence of which her nature is capable. Demand it as a debt. Summon -her to abandon inglorious ease.—Arouse her to practise and to enforce -those virtues, which sustain the simplicity, and promote the permanence -of a great republic. Make her answerable for the character of the next -generation. Give her this solemn charge in the presence of "men and of -angels,"—gird her for its fulfilment with the whole armor of education -and piety, and see if she be not faithful to her offspring, to her -country, and to her God!</p> - -<div align="right">L. H. S. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect20"></a> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>We beg our readers to amuse themselves with the following article from -Mr. Fairfield's Magazine. We cannot however, whilst we value the -importance of having an euphonous and pleasant sounding name, -sympathise very sincerely with Mr. Rust in the horror he has conceived -towards his own. We had rather be Lazarus in all his misery than Dives -in "purple and fine linen."</small></blockquote> -<div align="right"><small>From the North American Magazine. </small></div> - -<h4>MY NAME.</h4> - -<center><small>"Quid rides? mutato nomine, de te<br> - Fabula narratur."—<i>Horace, Sat. 1. Lib, I. 70</i>.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<p>"Nil admirari" has always been my maxim, yet there is one thing which -excites my wonder. It <i>is</i> astonishing, that a man, who leaves his son no -other legacy, cannot at least give him a good name. What could have -been my father's motive, in inflicting upon me that curse of all -curses—my name, I cannot determine. Trifling as so small a matter may -appear, it has been my ruin. Bah! I shudder when I think of it! shade -of my honored parent! would nothing but a scripture name satisfy thee? -Why didst thou not then entitle me -Ezra?—Zedekiah?—Nimri?—anything—it must out—but Lazarus!</p> - -<p>Yes—L<small>AZARUS</small> R<small>UST</small>—that is my name; and, if any man can now blame me -for being a misanthrope, let him come forward. As I said, my name has -been my ruin. It has made existence a curse since my childhood; even at -school, I was tormented almost to madness. I was the only boy who was -not nicknamed. The most malicious were satisfied; they could not -improve upon Lazarus.</p> - -<p>Of all men, the most impertinent are your stage agents. They have a -trick of asking your name, with an insulting coolness, which, to a man -of delicate sensibilities, is extremely annoying. I shall never forget -my first stagecoach journey. The fellow at the desk looked me full in -the face, and calmly asked my name. I felt the blood boiling in my -face, and my first impulse was to knock him down. But I was a prudent -man, even when a boy; so I satisfied myself with turning contemptuously -on my heel. The fellow was by my side in a moment. "Sir," said he, in -the silver tones of a lackey, "will you allow me to inquire your name?" -This was too much. "Allow me to tell you, sirrah," I cried, almost -suffocated with rage, "that you are an impertinent scoundrel."</p> - -<p>The bar room was in a roar. That laugh is sounding still in my ears, -like the roar of a mighty cataract. What diabolical music some men make -of laughing! When the agent explained to me the reason of his inquiry, -I felt so consummately silly, that I forgot my usual precaution of -giving only my initial, and, in a voice painfully distinct, I -answered—Lazarus Rust!</p> - -<p>They did not laugh. I could have borne a deafening shout: but that -suppressed smile! let me not think of it. Of all mortal sufferings, the -keenest is the consciousness of being the object of ridicule, mingled -perhaps with pity. O! Heaven! what did I not suffer—what have I not -suffered, from this one source?</p> - -<p>All this comes of my father's—what shall I call it?—madness, in -calling me Lazarus. By the by, they tell me that, when I was baptized, -a murmur of laughter arose from the whole congregation; and even the -minister, as he uttered the solemn form, could not entirely conceal the -smile, which, in spite of his utmost exertions played upon his lips.</p> - -<p>A history of my ludicrous misfortunes would fill a volume. Perhaps the -most ludicrous of all was at my marriage. "A rose, by any other name, -would smell as sweet;" and a Lazarus may love as ardently as a Dives. I -confess I did love Phoebe McLarry—(how sweetly the name flows from -your lips!) she was not beautiful, but she loved me notwithstanding my -name, "and I loved her that she did pity me." So we were married. But, -when the priest repeated, "Son, Lazarus, take Phoebe," &c. I could not -refrain from laughing myself.</p> - -<p>They say that the constitution of our habits is such, that, by degrees, -we can become reconciled to anything, but I am not yet satisfied with -my name. I still persist in writing it L. Rust. I have seen a good deal -of human nature; and, I must think, notwithstanding Shakspeare's -opinion, that there is something in a name. Indeed, a man's name tinges -his whole character. If it is a good one, he may sign even a mortgage -deed with a light heart; and, if he writes a neat hand, he will rise -from the desk a happy man. His flowing autograph, and more flowing -name, make even poverty tolerable. But your Nimris, and Obadiahs! that -which, to some men, is the pleasantest thing in existence—the seeing -their names in print, is to them, utter and hopeless agony. And then -their officious friends are eternally superscribing their letters with -the name written out in full. There is one member of Congress, who, -throughout the whole session, most perseveringly franks his dull -speeches to Lazarus Rust, esq. One would think L. Rust was sufficiently -definite, and it certainly has the advantage in point of euphony. I -wish he was in Heaven. I know of no damper to ambition like a bad name. -I would not immortalize myself if I could. Lazarus Rust, indeed,—that -would look well inscribed on a monument! I say with Emmett, "Let no man -write my epitaph." It would perhaps run thus:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem11"> - <tr><td><small>"Here lies the body of Lazarus Rust<br> - With what a horrible name the poor fellow was <i>cust</i>."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>No—not for me is the laurel wreath of immortality. When I die, let me -be forgotten. If there is any truth in the doctrine of transmigration, -I may yet take my chance. "I bide my time."</p> - -<p>After all, I sometimes endeavor to persuade myself that it is a mere -matter of taste. We have no reason to suppose that Lazarus was the -worst name in the Hebrew genealogy. It must be confessed, however, that -there are some disagreeable associations connected with it, aside from -its sound; and, to speak the plain truth, it is a most disgusting -appellation, fit only for a monkey. Yet I am compelled to bear it about -with me—a thorn in the flesh, from which I cannot escape; it adheres -to me like the poisoned tunic of Nessus. I would appeal to the -Massachusetts Legislature, but my friends have a decided partiality for -Lazarus, and would never know me by any other name. So, as Lazarus I -have lived, Lazarus will I die.</p> - -<p>I have redeemed my father's error, in naming my own children; I cannot, -'tis true, rub off the Rust: but, for the matter of Christian names, I -defy the Directory to furnish a more princely list. When my eldest son -was born, I vowed he should never be ashamed of his name, so I called -him Henry Arthur Augustus George Bellville—so far, so good—it breaks -my heart to add—Rust. The sly rogue has since improved his cognomen, -by spelling it with a final e—thus: Henry A. A. G. B. Ruste—how it -takes off the romance to add—eldest son of Lazarus Rust, esq.!</p> - -<p>Finally, as I have the misfortune, like my namesake of old, to be of -that class of mortals, denominated "poor devils," I can say, with the -utmost sincerity, "who steals <i>my</i> purse, steals trash; and he who -filches from me my good name," has decidedly the worst of the bargain.</p> - -<div align="right">J. D. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect21"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<blockquote><small>The following lines are from the pen of Dr. <i>J. R. Drake</i>. Sacred be -his memory! A warmer patriot never breathed. The piece was written at -the time of the invasion, and but a few days previous to the brilliant -victory of the eighth of January. It is addressed to the defenders of -New Orleans.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem12"> - <tr><td> Hail! sons of gen'rous valor!<br> - Who now embattled stand,<br> - To wield the brand of strife and blood,<br> - For freedom and the land;<br> - And hail to him your laurel'd chief!<br> - Around whose trophied name,<br> - A nation's gratitude has twin'd,<br> - The wreath of deathless fame.<br><br> - Now round that gallant leader,<br> - Your iron phalanx form;<br> - And throw, like ocean's barrier rocks,<br> - Your bosoms to the storm—<br> - Though wild as ocean's waves it rolls,<br> - Its fury shall be low—<br> - For justice guides the warrior's steel,<br> - And vengeance strikes the blow.<br><br> - High o'er the gleaming columns<br> - The banner'd star appears;<br> - And proud, amid the martial band,<br> - His crest the Eagle rears—<br> - As long as patriot valor's arm<br> - Shall win the battle's prize,<br> - That star shall beam triumphantly—<br> - That Eagle seek the skies.<br><br> - Then on! ye daring spirits!<br> - To danger's tumults now!<br> - The bowl is fill'd, and wreath'd the crown,<br> - To grace the victor's brow;<br> - And they who for their country die,<br> - Shall fill an honored grave;<br> - For glory lights the soldier's tomb,<br> - And beauty weeps the brave.</td></tr> -</table> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect22"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>VALEDICTORY IN JULY 1829,</h4> - -<blockquote><small><i>At the final breaking up of the —— School, in consequence of the ill -health of Mrs. ——, the Principal, after it had continued for eight -years.</i></small></blockquote> -<br> - -<p>Among the numerous analogies, my young friends, which have been traced -between the body and the mind, there is not one that requires more of -our attention than the necessity of constantly supplying each with its -appropriate food, if we would keep both in sound, vigorous health. -Although the nutriment of the first be altogether material, and that of -the second spiritual, yet the same want of daily supply is equally -obvious in regard to the improvement and preservation of mental as well -as bodily qualities. Without our daily bread we must all in some short -time sicken and die; without some daily intellectual repasts, the soul -must soon become diseased and perish. It is true that in each case the -food may be much and often beneficially diversified—although there are -some standard articles that cannot be dispensed with on any occasion -without inconvenience, if not actual injury. Such for example are bread -for the body and some moral aliment for the mind. Upon this principle -it is that I have always deemed it essential, every time I have -addressed you, to mingle some moral instruction with every thing I have -said, since it is <i>this</i> which constitutes the true leaven of the bread -of life—and <i>this</i> it is which will always prove an acceptable part of -their mental food, to all whose appetites and tastes have not been -depraved by mental condiments, which stimulate and gratify the passions -at the expense of the soul.</p> - -<p>An irresistible inducement on the present occasion to pursue towards -you the course to which I have so long been prompted both by principle -and habit, is, that <i>this</i> is certainly the last opportunity I shall -ever have of addressing you as pupils. The connexion of teachers and -scholars which has subsisted for so many years between yourselves and -my family, is about to be dissolved forever. But this circumstance has -greatly augmented my solicitude to render the last admonitions I shall -ever give you in my character of adviser, of some permanent service to -you. They will relate to such endowments of mind and qualities of heart -as you will most frequently have occasion to exercise in future life. -These are, self-control, gentleness and benevolence of disposition, -purity and rectitude of conduct, courtesy and politeness of manner.</p> - -<p>The necessity for acquiring self-control arises, not only from the -impossibility of gratifying all, even of our lawful wishes—to say -nothing of those unhallowed ones which increase in a tenfold proportion -from every indulgence—but from the almost continual calls for its -exercise in all our intercourse with society. At home or abroad—in the -depths of solitude, or in the busiest haunts of men—in all our -domestic relations, as well as in those which place us in a more -extended sphere of action, this all important quality is in continual -demand. In governing ourselves it is indispensable; nor is it much less -necessary when duty requires us to govern, direct or persuade others. -Even when we are casually brought into the company of strangers, and -for a short time only, it often enables us to command respect and to -gain esteem, by manifesting the vast superiority of a well regulated -mind over one which yields to every impulse of passion that assails it. -This inestimable quality of self-control gives additional zest to all -our lawful pleasures, and enhances our highest enjoyments, by causing -us always to stop short of satiety; while it enables us by God's help, -resolutely and undisturbed, to meet all the crosses and trials to which -others may subject us. In a word, it arms us against the strongest -temptation of our own passions, and empowers us to disregard the worst -that can be attempted against us by the passions of other people. It is -in fact the <i>regulator</i>, (if I may so express myself,) which governs -all the machinery of our minds in such a manner as to prevent them from -going either too fast or too slow. How many mortifications and -disappointments—how much anger, resentment and grief does it not -prevent our suffering from the envy, hatred, malice and -uncharitableness of the world around us! How often does it save us from -the shame and degradation of sensual indulgence; from the turpitude of -sin; from the anguish of remorse. It is the effectual check to the -depravity of our nature, which a merciful God will enable us always to -apply, if we will only ask it of him as we ought—that is, by continual -prayer and supplication.</p> - -<p>The other qualities, gentleness, benevolence, purity, rectitude, -courtesy and politeness, when accompanied by good sense and a well -cultivated mind, constitute the great charm of domestic and social -life. Indeed, they may well be called indispensable requisites, since -there can be no happiness and very little comfort without them. There -never was a greater, a more fatal mistake, than the too common one of -supposing that the chief use of such qualities is in society at large; -in other words, when we are acting a part before the world, in our -ridiculous struggles for distinction and power. Selfishness is the -mainspring of all such efforts, and it so sharpens our sagacity as to -convince us that our bad qualities <i>must</i> be restrained in public, or -they will frequently subject us to punishment if we attempt to disturb -others by their indulgence. But in private life, and particularly in -the family circle, there are few so insignificant or destitute of means -to disturb others as not to possess the power of causing much -annoyance, if not actual unhappiness. A single individual of a waspish, -irritable, jealous, gossipping, envious and suspicious temper, in these -situations, may destroy the peace and poison the domestic enjoyments of -a large family. No incident is too trivial to excite some one or other -of their bad passions; no person too unoffending to provoke them; no -conduct so guarded as to escape malignant remark. Their approach, like -the sirocco of the desert, produces an irresistible depression of -spirits; constraint and embarrassment spread a gloom over every -countenance, and the voice of joy and gladness dies away in their -presence. On the other hand, the emanations of a gentle, benevolent -disposition, produce the same impression on our hearts, that the balmy -breezes and sweet smelling flowers of the vernal season do on our -senses. It is a something that we feel deeply in the inmost recesses of -our bosom, but cannot well describe. It is an atmosphere of delight in -which we would gladly breathe during our whole life.</p> - -<p>By purity of thought and rectitude of conduct, in which are -comprehended the inestimable virtues of truth, candor and sincerity, we -secure for ourselves the unutterable enjoyment of an approving -conscience, at the same time that we obtain from others their esteem, -their admiration, and their love. We may manifest these qualities in -every part of our intercourse with others; for whether we speak or act, -occasions continually present themselves to prove that we possess them. -By conversation we show the purity of our sentiments; by conduct we -manifest the rectitude of our principles—so that in all we either say -or do, we supply others with the means of ascertaining what manner of -persons we are. True we may deceive some by playing the hypocrite; but -the persons whose good opinion is really worth gaining, are not so -easily gulled, and our loss, if the game is once seen through, is -irretrievable.</p> - -<p>In regard to courtesy and politeness, they may justly be called the -offspring of benevolence, since their chief object is to promote the -ease, the comfort, the pleasure, and happiness of others. It must be -admitted there are counterfeit qualities which sometimes pass -undetected. But <i>they</i> are the base born children of art and -selfishness, aiming solely to promote their own interests by deceiving -other people into a belief that <i>their</i> gratification is the end of all -their efforts to please. To say nothing of the continual labor and -constraint necessary to enable these circulators of false coin to -escape discovery and exposure, the superior ease and safety of genuine -courtesy and politeness, should be a sufficient inducement with all -young persons to study most assiduously to acquire them, even on the -supposition that we had no better guide for all our actions in relation -to others. That honesty <i>in manner</i>, as well as <i>in conduct</i>, will ever -be found to be the best policy, amid all the varying forms, fashions -and practices of the world, is I believe, as certain as that truth is -better than falsehood—virtue preferable to vice. Another argument -greatly in favor of genuine courtesy and politeness is, that they are -the most current and easily procurable coin you can possibly use, being -equally well adapted (if I may keep up the metaphor,) to make either -large or small purchases. The articles procured too in exchange, always -greatly exceed in real intrinsic value, all that you ever give for -them. This is merely the manifestation of a sincere, an earnest desire -to please; while the precious return is almost always the cordial -expression of truly friendly feeling, the look of pleasurable emotion, -and the affectionate regards of a grateful heart, particularly where -the intercourse has been of sufficient duration to admit of some little -development of character. Let it not be said that a cause apparently so -slight is inadequate to produce such strong effects. There lives not a -human being who has ever felt the influence of genuine courtesy and -politeness, but can testify to the truth of what has been said in their -praise. Nor is it easy to imagine the possibility of any individual's -remaining insensible of their value, who like you my young friends, -have always been accustomed to the society of ladies and gentlemen. -Knowing this as I do, I should consider it somewhat like a work of -supererogation to press upon you the absolute necessity of your -constantly cultivating these invaluable qualities, if I were not -thoroughly satisfied from painful experience, that almost all young -persons require at least occasional admonition on this subject. In vain -do some parents solicit, persuade—nay, beseech their daughters, never -for a moment to forget what is due to the character of a lady, both in -manners and deportment; in vain do they implore them with aching hearts -to make a better return for all a mother's care and affection; to no -purpose do they pray for that purity of heart and rectitude of -principle in their offspring, which is the only true source of good -manners: their unfortunate, wayward children continue to act, as if the -chief purpose of their existence was to prove to the world how little -influence their parents have over them. They seem utterly reckless of -the parental tie—regardless of all the disparaging inferences which -may be drawn from their own conduct in relation to the characters of -their connexions—and continue hardened alike against advice or -reproof, in whatever language or manner it may be offered to them. God -forbid that such should be the moral portrait of any of my present -auditors; but you have all sufficient experience to know that it is not -a fancy picture, nor one wherein the features are so exaggerated and -caricatured, as to be unlike any person who has ever lived. If none of -your schoolmates have ever resembled it, you have either seen or heard -of some others in the world whom it would fit. Should your own -consciences acquit you, as I sincerely trust they do, of all liability -to pursue so reckless a course, both in regard to parental and other -admonition—let me beseech you, my young friends, not to tax your -imaginations with laboring to conjecture whether I aim at any -particular individuals, for I do not; but strive most assiduously to -examine your own hearts thoroughly as to all these points, and study so -to act on all occasions and towards every person with whom you may have -any thing to do, that the praise not only of courtesy and politeness -may ever be yours, but likewise the far more exalted merit of right -minds and pure hearts.</p> - -<p>When I look back on the years that have passed away since this school -commenced; when I reflect on the many anxious hours which your teachers -have spent in meditating on the most effectual means to render their -instructions and admonitions conducive to your eternal as well as -temporal welfare; and when I recollect the several instances wherein I -am persuaded they had good cause to believe that an all bounteous -Providence had favored their humble labors, my heart is filled with -gratitude for the past; and I cherish the fond hope that <i>you too</i>, my -young friends, will be added to the number of those, who by the -exemplary character of your future lives, will cause your instructers -to rejoice that <i>you</i> likewise have once been their pupils. Three or -four of you have been so from the first to the last, and the rest have -been long enough members of our family to be thoroughly acquainted with -the whole course of our instruction. You cannot therefore be ignorant -either of the chief objects at which you have always been taught to -aim, or of the means recommended to be invariably pursued for their -attainment. If you have failed to profit by them the fault must rest -somewhere; the awful responsibility attaches to one or both parties; -and let us all earnestly pray to God, that the purity and rectitude of -our future lives, should it please him to spare us, may avert the -punishment justly due to such offences. That none may plead -forgetfulness, let me briefly recapitulate once more, and for the last -time, what our course has been. The primary objects always most -earnestly pressed upon your attention have been, first and above all, -to prepare yourselves for another and a better world, by a life of -usefulness in the present; by the love and fear of God; by cheerful -obedience to his will; and by continually doing good to your fellow -creatures whenever you had the means and the opportunity. Your -secondary objects have been the study of sciences and languages, -physical and intellectual improvement, with a view, not to foster pride -and vanity, but solely to increase your power of being useful. Lastly, -you have been taught to acquire certain arts usually ranked under the -head of "accomplishments," but you have been invariably and -perseveringly admonished to consider them merely as <i>recreations</i>, -innocent if indulged in only occasionally, but sinful when made, as -they too often are, the principal business of life. On all occasions -too, you have been persuaded never so far to confide in the maxim that -"youth is the season for enjoyment," as to forget that, like old age it -<i>may</i>, and too often <i>is</i>, the season of suffering also. A preparation -for such contingencies <i>must</i> be made by all, or the hour of -misfortune, although every human being is destined to meet it, will -overwhelm those who are unprepared for it with a degree of misery which -admits of neither alleviation nor cure. Young as you all are, and -little as you have yet seen of human life, you have already felt, if -not in your own persons, at least in the case of others, something of -the effect produced by sudden and unexpected calamity, bursting like a -thunderclap on the heads of its devoted victims. But a few days have -passed away since you were witnesses to such an event in the case of -two of your school companions. The morning on which it happened shone -upon them cheerful and happy as any among you, unconscious of any -impending misfortune, undisturbed by any anticipations to mar their -peace. Yet, in a very few hours from that time, they were both plunged -into the deepest affliction; both by a single blow reduced perhaps to -poverty; both suddenly called by the most awful death of a parent of -one of them, to return to a wretched family bereft of its chief -support, and crushed to the earth in all the helplessness of -irremediable wo. Alas! my young friends, how few of you ever think of -drawing from such occurrences the many salutary lessons they are so -well calculated to impart! How many turn away from them as matters to -be banished as speedily as possible from your remembrance; as events -never likely to happen to yourselves! Yet every hour that we -live—every moment that we breathe—not one among us, no not one single -individual, can truly say, "<i>I</i> am free—<i>I</i> am exempt both from -present and contingent calamity." Far, very far am I indeed, from -wishing you to be so constantly absorbed in gloomy anticipations, as to -prevent you in the slightest degree from enjoying every innocent -gratification suitable to your respective ages and situations in life. -But I would have you all to know and to feel in your inmost heart, that -"sweet are the uses of adversity," and that none should think -themselves fit to live until they feel prepared to die the death of the -righteous before God and man. Hard as this requisition may seem, -thousands upon thousands, and of your age too, have complied with it to -the very letter. Thousands have furnished angelic examples, even to the -aged and hoary headed, that the fresh, the blooming, the joyous period -of youth may be dedicated to God, as well as that worn out remnant of -life when all power of earthly enjoyment is supposed to be dead within -us, and nothing remains to be offered to heaven but exhausted faculties -and fast decaying intellects. Has not our blessed Saviour himself -declared, when speaking of children, that "of such is the kingdom of -heaven;" and in illustration of this truth, are not all the images of -cherubim and seraphim presented to our senses, always represented with -juvenile countenances, glowing with all the innocence and loveliness of -youth? Shall the youth then of the present day—the youth of our own -country—but especially the female portion of them, ever adopt the -fatal delusion that <i>theirs</i> is an age too immature for the acquisition -and exercise of the highest moral and religious attainments. Shall -<i>they</i> fall into the ruinous error that it is yet time enough for them -to attend to spiritual matters, and that the prime and vigor of their -lives are to be wasted in merely temporal pursuits unworthy the -characters and disgraceful to the rational creatures formed for a state -of eternal happiness? Far better would it be that they never had been -born; or that the hand of misfortune—the saddest hours of unmitigated -suffering, should continue to press on them with all their weight, -until they could be brought to know their duty to God, to their fellow -beings, and to themselves. Heaven forbid, my young friends, that such -awful discipline should be necessary to bring <i>you also</i> to a proper -sense of all you owe to the Divine Author of your existence, and to -that society of which you may become either the blessing or the curse. -Heaven forbid that any of you should so far forget the high destinies -for which you were formed—the glorious purposes to which your lives -should be devoted—and the everlasting happiness promised in another -world to all who fulfil their duties in this, as to neglect for a -moment any of the means essential to improve your hearts and minds to -the utmost attainable degree. Nothing—no nothing within the range of -possibility can enable you to do this, but continual, earnest, -heartfelt prayer to God for the aid of his holy spirit in all your -undertakings; frequent and deep meditation on all the vicissitudes of -life; frequent and serious forethought in regard not only to what you -may probably enjoy in the present world, but to what you may possibly -be devoted to suffer. Gay and happy as you all now are in the joyous -anticipations so natural to youth and health, it <i>may</i> be your fate -(but God forbid it ever should,) to see one by one of your nearest and -dearest connexions drop into the grave—some in the very blossom and -promise of juvenile years—others worn down by care, disease and old -age. It <i>may</i> be your fate to be the very last of your race, reserved -to mourn over all who have gone before to another world. All this, my -children, and yet deeper affliction may possibly be <i>your</i> lot—for it -<i>has been</i> that of thousands, aye of millions before you. Can it be of -<i>no importance</i> then; nay, is it not of <i>the last, the highest, the -most vital importance</i>, that you should make at least some small -preparation for such appalling contingencies, lest they befal you -utterly unawares? Will you ask me what is that preparation? It is -simply so to use all your good gifts as not to abuse them; so to -cherish all the powers both of your bodies and minds that they may last -as long as nature intended they should, and fulfil all the purposes for -which they were designed; so to divide your time between useful -occupation and necessary recreation, that none may be said to be wasted -or lost; in a word, <i>so to live</i> that you may never be found -<i>unprepared to die</i>. The joys of heaven should ever be the beacon to -guide your course; and the road by which you should travel through the -present life to reach them, should be <i>that</i> and <i>that only</i> which your -heavenly Father, through his blessed Son, has commanded and besought -you to take. Thousands who have steadily pursued this course have -testified that it is "a way of pleasantness and a path of peace" to all -who have once attained the dispositions, feelings and principles -enjoined upon those who have made it their choice, in preference to all -other reputed roads to happiness; while not a solitary human being who -has ever tried these other roads, has ever yet been heard to bear -witness in their favor, after the experiment has been fully made. Woful -then must be your mistake, most fatal your error, in choosing "the way -in which you should go," should you rather be led by the sinful -allurements of illicit pleasure, than the universally concurring -testimony of the good, the wise, and the just throughout the world.</p> - -<p>In a few fleeting hours more this school will cease to exist, and your -present monitor will have uttered the last words of admonition which he -will ever address to you as pupils. Anxiously, most anxiously do I -desire to fix them indelibly on your minds. But alas! I feel too -sensibly my own inability, as well as the evanescent nature of all -language in the form of advice, to hope for more than a temporary -impression. If I make even <i>that</i>, I shall in part at least have -attained the sole object of all that I ever said to you, which has been -your own intellectual improvement, your own happiness. Let me entreat -you, my dear young friends; let me implore you for the last time, never -to forget (whatever other things you may suffer to escape your -memories,) any of the various moral and religious instructions which -you have received under our care. I feel well assured that they will -not fail to come home to your bosoms—probably too with greatly -augmented force, should the withering blasts of misfortune ever spread -desolation and wo among you. But I pray for something more for you. I -would have you bear them continually in remembrance, even in your -happiest hours of prosperous fortune. I would have each of you -individually meditate on them "when thou sittest in thy house, and when -thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest -up." Then, but not until <i>then</i>, will you be fully prepared both for -adversity and prosperity; and then indeed may you confidently trust -that the God of all mercy and goodness will vouchsafe to impart to you -the true christian's last, best hope, both for time and eternity.</p> - -<p>Separated from us all as you will soon be, perhaps forever, and about -to enjoy, as I earnestly desire, a happy meeting with the beloved -friends and relatives from whom you have been so long withdrawn, accept -for the last time our heartfelt assurances that our best wishes, our -anxious prayers for your happiness, will accompany you through all the -vicissitudes of life; that we shall always sympathise both in your joys -and your sorrows; and that our own enjoyments will ever be greatly -augmented by hearing that you are all leading exemplary and happy -lives. For power to do this, forget not—oh! never for a moment forget, -that your sole reliance must be on your heavenly Father and his holy -spirit, which hath been promised abundantly to all who ask it in truth -and sincerity.</p> - -<p>"May the blessing of an all merciful God be ever on you and around you. -May his grace be a lamp unto your feet and a light unto your path. May -it guide, strengthen and support you in all the troubles and -adversities of this life, and bring you, through faith in our Redeemer, -to eternal blessedness in that which is to come."—A<small>MEN</small>.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect23"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE SEASONS.</h4> -<br> - -<p>The verdant spring, decked in her brightest gems, and arrayed in her -most gorgeous vesture, has driven hoary winter to his icy caverns, and -leads forth her sportive train to kindle a smile upon the face of -nature. The mountain streamlets, revelling in joyous gaiety at their -disenthralment from the chains of winter, are playfully meandering -among the flowrets which deck their velvet banks; and the smiling -vallies, embosomed amid the lofty mountains, put forth their verdure, -as if in commemoration of him who "holdeth in his hand the destiny of -nations!" The blushing rose has expanded beneath the genial rays of the -resplendent god of day, and scents with its fragrance the vernal -zephyrs which stoop to kiss it as they pass. The woods, and rivers, and -mountains, all clad in their variegated garments, seem to mingle in the -celebration of the grand jubilee of nature!</p> - -<p>The flowers of spring have faded. The refulgent sun has ascended yet -higher in his brilliant pathway through the heaven; the gay vesture of -the earth is yellowing beneath his scorching rays. The fruit, of which -the vernal blossoms gave such fair and glorious promise, has ripened -into maturity under his golden influence. Voluptuous summer has been -ushered in upon the stage of time, accompanied and heralded by myriads -of gleesome fairies, wantonly disporting upon the rich carpets, -rivalling in splendor the purple of ancient Tyre, which nature has -spread over the earth for her reception. The chaste Diana holds her -nocturnal course through the blue expanse of ether, studded with -countless gems, the brightest jewels in heaven's diadem, shedding her -mild and mellow light over the sombre forests, and gilding the -sparkling streamlets, which placidly repose beneath her beams. Earth, -sea and air, encompassed by a heavenly serenity, seem to blend their -beauties into one rich picture of loveliness, and offer up their united -orisons to the sovereign Lord of all!</p> - -<p>The revolving wheels of time, in their ceaseless and eternal gyrations, -have rolled away the glories of the regal summer into the vast charnel -house of the past—and the demon of decay, like the fiend consumption, -breathing its fatal influence upon the roseate cheek of youthful -beauty, has withered the tresses which hung in wild luxuriancy upon the -bosom of the earth, and has stamped upon her brow the impress of his -iron signet, as if to shadow forth her approaching doom. The limpid -streams which veined her surface, and under the mild sway of the -queenly summer, danced and sparkled in the sun's meridian beam, now -roll lazily along in their channels, as if performing the funeral -obsequies of the buried past. The vallies, but lately decorated in the -blooming apparel of spring, have now assumed a more variegated and -gorgeous hue, which like the hectic flush which fitfully crimsons the -pallid cheek of consumption's hopeless victim, only indicates the -accelerated progress of decay. A deep, monotonous, unbroken stillness -reigns o'er the hills and vallies, but lately teeming with life and -animation. A creeping, deathlike, insidious languor, the sure precursor -of winter's despotic reign, pervades the works of nature, hushing the -breezes which ripple o'er the surface of the placid lake, and fettering -the whole earth in supine inertness. The face of nature is robed in -melancholy sadness, as if mourning over the faded glories of the -declining year!</p> - -<p>Onward, in cold and gloomy grandeur, advance the frowning heralds of -the despot winter! Every vestige of vernal beauty has faded from their -presence. The mountains, vales and rivulets, as if anticipating his -hateful arrival, have veiled themselves in a frigid, chilling vesture -of white! Even the tears which sympathising heaven sheds upon the bosom -of the earth, become congealed and frozen beneath his blighting -influence. The volcanic fires which rage in the bosom of the towering -mountain cower in dismay from his terrific glance. At length the -tyrant, with his iron sceptre and icy crown, is seated on his throne. -His attendant ministers rush to assist in the frightful coronation, and -amid the demoniac yells which announce the termination of the loathsome -ceremony, the harsh old Boreas shrieks forth the requiem of the -departed year!</p> - -<div align="right">V. </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect24"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>BYRON'S LAST WORDS.</h4> - -<center><small>BY D. MARTIN.</small></center> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem13"> - <tr><td>Summer was in its glory. Night came down,<br> - With a light step upon the virent earth;<br> - Sepulchral silence reigned on every side;<br> - And the winds—those heralders of storm<br> - Which curl the billows on Old Ocean's brow,<br> - In their low breathings were inaudible,—<br> - When a gifted son of Genius sought his home,<br> - And threw himself upon a lowly couch,<br> - And as his being's star went slowly down,<br> - He thus communed in low and faltering tone:—<br> -<br> - Oh! it is hard to die!<br> - To leave this world of amaranthine green,<br> - Whose glittering pageantry and flowery sheen,<br> - Vie with the glorious sky!<br> -<br> - But alas! the hand of Death,<br> - Has laid its icy grasp upon me now;<br> - The cold sweat rests upon my feverish brow,<br> - And shorter grows my breath!<br> -<br> - Well be it so!<br> - And I will pass away like light at even,<br> - Unto the Houri's amethystine heaven,<br> - Where all immortal go!<br> -<br> - Yet I have drank<br> - Unto its very dregs, the cup of Fame,<br> - And won myself a green, undying name,<br> - In Glory's rank!<br> -<br> - And yet!—oh, yet,<br> - "Break but one seal for me unbroken!<br> - Speak but one word for me unspoken!<br> - Before my sun is set!"<br> -<br> - Oh, for one drop<br> - Of the black waters of that stream sublime,<br> - Which follows in the stormy track of Time,<br> - This breath to stop!<br> -<br> - It may not be!<br> - Yet I would pray that Memory might rest,<br> - Like the wan beauty of the sunlit west,<br> - In dark oblivion's sea!<br> -<br> - Thus did he commune—and when the god of day<br> - Rose like a monarch from his sapphire throne,<br> - His spirit had passed away like morning mist—<br> - And winged its way unto that far off land,<br> - Where burns fore'er eternity's bright star!</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect25"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>TO A YOUNG LADY.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem14"> - <tr><td>How beautiful, fair girl, art thou,<br> - All robed in innocence and truth!<br> - Upon thy calm and snowy brow,<br> - Beam, like a crown, the smiles of youth;<br> - Heaven's sunshine falls and lights thy way,<br> - As one too pure and bright for sorrow—<br> - And virtue's soft and seraph ray<br> - Flings lustre on thy dawning morrow,—<br> - Giving a promise, that thy life<br> - Will ever be, with pleasure, rife!<br><br> - Upon those dark, bright eyes of thine,<br> - That soft, like moonlit waters, beam,<br> - I love to gaze, and, as they shine,<br> - Of those ethereal beings dream,<br> - That oft, on us, have smiled, in sleep,<br> - Then quickly flown, and made us weep,<br> - That e'er to man, so much of heaven<br> - Should just be shown,—ah! never given!<br><br> - How soft the rose upon thy cheek,<br> - Blent with the lily's milder hue,<br> - Whose mingling tints of beauty speak<br> - A sinless spirit—calm and true!—<br> - The smile, that wreathes thy rosy lip,<br> - Is young affection's radiant token—<br> - Beauty and Truth in fellowship!—<br> - The symbol of a heart unbroken;<br> - Within thy bosom, holy thought,<br> - As in a temple, hath its shrine,<br> - Refulgent with a glory caught<br> - From the pure presence of thy mind,<br> - Whose lustre flings a hallowing ray,<br> - Around thee, calm as orient day!<br><br> - Oh! may thy life be ever bright,<br> - As aught thine early dreams have framed,<br> - And not a shadow dim its light,<br> - Till heaven, in mercy, shall have claim'd<br> - Thee, as a being fit for naught<br> - That earth can boast, all sorrow-fraught<br> - As are its brightest visions. May<br> - Thy life be one long dream of love,<br> - Unbroken 'til the final day,<br> - When heaven shall waft thy soul above,<br> - And crown thee, as an angel <i>there</i>,<br> - Who wast indeed an angel <i>here!</i></td></tr> -</table><br> -<div align="right">A. B. M. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Tuscaloosa, Alabama</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect26"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>LINES IN AN ALBUM.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem15"> - <tr><td>As sets the sun upon the wave,<br> - At twilight, when the day is done,<br> - Casting a glory round his grave,<br> - That lingers, though his race be run;—<br> - A glory, that attracts the gaze<br> - Of many a bright, uplifted eye,<br> - Leading the spirit, where his rays<br> - Blend with the quiet, azure sky,<br> - Till evening's star, with diamond beam,<br> - Mirrors his last effulgent gleam;—<br><br> - So I would now, upon this page,<br> - At parting, <i>this</i> memorial leave,<br> - O'er which, perhaps, in after age,<br> - Some pensive eye may kindly grieve,<br> - And mourn the loss of him, who though<br> - His life was all unknown to fame,<br> - Left still behind a feeble glow,<br> - Hallowing, in friendship's sky, his name,—<br> - A light, that, like a star, will beam,<br> - Long, long, he trusts, in memory's dream!<br><br> - * - * - * - * *<br><br> - And now my wish for happiness<br> - To thee, I mingle with mine own,—<br> - A wish—a <i>prayer</i>, that heaven may bless,<br> - And keep thee, kind and gentle one,<br> - Free from all sorrow, care and strife,—<br> - A being far too pure and bright<br> - To wander 'mid the storms of life,<br> - That dim affection's vestal light,—<br> - A seraph form'd like those above,<br> - For only joy, and peace, and love!<br><br> - I need not tell thee, time can ne'er<br> - Thy name from memory's tablet blot,<br> - For thou art to my heart too dear,<br> - To wrong its worship, by the thought;<br> - No! though the world may sorrow bring,<br> - And bear thee far away from me,<br> - It from remembrance ne'er can wring<br> - The thoughts, that aye will turn to thee,<br> - As Chaldea's maiden to the star,<br> - She worships in its sphere afar!</td></tr> -</table><br> -<div align="right">A. B. M. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Tuscaloosa, Alabama</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect27"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>PARTING.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem16"> - <tr><td>Farewell!—my hand is trembling yet,<br> - With the last pressure of thine own;<br> - Oh! could my troubled heart forget<br> - The sadness, 'round that parting thrown,—<br> - Could memory lose the imaged smile,<br> - Bright sparkling through thy gushing tears,<br> - Which played upon thy cheek, the while<br> - Hope struggled with her prophet fears,<br> - That love and bliss no more would throw<br> - Their beams around us, as of erst,<br> - Or happiness, with seraph glow,<br> - Upon our rapturous <i>meetings</i> burst,—<br> - I then might lose a sorrowing thought,<br> - But one, with deep affection fraught!<br><br> - Yet go!—I would not keep thee here,<br> - When "it is best to be away,"—<br> - Go, seek thy distant home, and ne'er<br> - Let memory 'round these visions stray,<br> - When happiness, and love and joy,<br> - Unto our mingling hearts were given;—<br> - Oh! go, and ne'er may pain annoy,<br> - Or sorrow dim thine eye's blue heaven,<br> - But peace and pure affection hold<br> - Their vigils 'round thine angel way,<br> - And blessedness thy form enfold,<br> - And keep thee, 'til "the perfect day,"<br> - When heaven shall join the hearts of those,<br> - Who here have loved, through countless woes!<br><br> - Go!—and I will not ask, or give<br> - A sigh,—a tear,—a single token,<br> - To prove our cherished love will live,<br> - Forever true, in faith unbroken;—<br> - Though wayward fate has severed far<br> - Our fortunes, by a cruel lot,<br> - Yet love will live, with being's star,<br> - And never,—never be forgot;—<br> - God's blessings on thee!—if the smile<br> - Of heaven e'er lights a seraph's path,—<br> - Protecting it from blight the while<br> - It wanders here, 'mid sin and wrath,—<br> - <i>Its</i> smiles upon <i>thy</i> path shall beam,<br> - And light it, like an Eden dream!</td></tr> -</table><br> -<div align="right">A. B. M. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Tuscaloosa, Alabama</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect28"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>LINES SUGGESTED ON VIEWING THE RUINS AT JAMESTOWN.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem17"> - <tr><td> Monuments of other years, on ye I gaze<br> - As yonder sun sheds forth its dying rays;<br> - And as I read these marbles, reared to tell<br> - Who lived beloved, and much lamented fell;<br> - A feeling sad comes o'er my soul, and then<br> - My fancy brings their tenants back again.<br> - Not these alone, but those whose footsteps trod<br> - The soil before, and worshipp'd nature's god<br> - Free from scholastic trammel, and adored<br> - Him thro' his works, without the zealot's sword<br> - To force belief. Where are ye now? Bright star<br> - That shed'st thy soft light thro' the skies afar,<br> - Art thou the same that didst thy pale beams shed<br> - O'er the last broken-hearted Indian's bed?<br> - When death was glazing fast his eagle eye,<br> - Say, didst thou gleam from yonder deep blue sky<br> - O'er his dim vision, and point out the way<br> - Thro' death's dark vestibule to endless day?—<br> - How did he die? With curses loud and deep<br> - (Startling the panther from his troubled sleep,)<br> - All wildly bursting from his soul for those<br> - Who came as friends, but—proved the worst of foes?<br> - Say, did he breathe his untamed spirit out,<br> - With the stern warrior's wild unearthly shout<br> - Quiv'ring along his lip, all proudly curled,<br> - Which seem'd to say, "defiance to the world?"<br> - Or was the lion quiet in his heart?<br> - And did a gush from feeling's fountain, start<br> - Adown his swarthy cheek, when o'er his soul<br> - Came tender feelings he could not control.<br> - Thoughts of the past perhaps; his aged sire;<br> - His mother bending o'er the wigwam's fire;<br> - His brothers, sisters, and the joyous chase;<br> - The stream he used to lave in oft, to brace<br> - His manly sinews; and perchance the maid,<br> - With whom in brighter days he oft had strayed<br> - Mid the hoar forest's over spreading shade.<br> - Came there a group past mem'ry's straining eye<br> - To teach the <i>brave</i> how hard it was to die?<br> - What boots it now to know? Yet fancy warms<br> - With strange imaginings, and the gaunt forms<br> - Of forest heroes pass her eye before,<br> - As a strange feeling steals the spirit o'er.<br> - Is that Apollo<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> with his polish'd bow<br> - And quiver—with rich locks that freely flow<br> - Adown his neck of graceful form—whose eye<br> - Seems like some bright orb beaming from the sky?<br> - O! shade of Powhatan! I would not dare<br> - To breathe one word upon this balmy air<br> - To make thee sad—for as I look around,<br> - I <i>feel</i> this mournful spot is sacred ground!<br> - If thou dost mark my footsteps, where I tread<br> - Unthinking, o'er those warrior's mounds, who bled<br> - Contending bravely for their own green hills,<br> - Their sunny fountains and their gushing rills,<br> - Their fields, their woods, their partners and their sons,<br> - This noble stream which to the ocean runs,—<br> - Shade of the mighty Werowance<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> forgive!<br> - No trifling thoughts within this bosom live;<br> - No throb unhallowed thrills my bosom here,<br> - As o'er these mounds I drop a mournful tear.<br> - But day declines; the hosts of heaven ride<br> - All brightly—while the moon, pale as a bride<br> - When at the altar her young vows are given,<br> - Smiles sweetly from her altitude in heaven.<br><br> - The red man and the white, together sleep<br> - That dreamless slumber, and the waves' hoarse sweep<br> - Awakes them not—and I a wandering boy,<br> - Will not with my sad song their manes annoy.<br><br> - I drop a parting tear, thou sacred pile,<br> - To thy strewn columns and thy moss grown aisle;<br> - Thy broken pavement, and thy ruined arch,—<br> - How rapid Time, thy desolating march!<br><br> - Farewell! farewell! thou sacred, solemn spot;<br> - What I have felt shall not be soon forgot:<br> - Rest, rest, ye slumberers! would that I could sleep;<br> - Your's is all calm, but <i>I</i> must live to weep.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>SYLVANUS</small>. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>August, 1834</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> It is said of West, the celebrated painter, that on being -shown an Apollo, he exclaimed, "My God, how much like a young <i>Mohawk -warrior</i>."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Indian term for a great man.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect29"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>ODE WRITTEN ON A FINE NIGHT AT SEA.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem18"> - <tr><td>How softly sweet this zephyr night!<br> - To Venus sends her brilliant light!<br> - And Heav'n's inhabitants unite<br> - Each kindly beam,<br> - To put fell darkness' train to flight,<br> - With gentle gleam.<br><br> - The vessel's sides the waters wake,<br> - And waveless as the bounded lake,<br> - A solemn slumber seem to take<br> - Extending wide;—<br> - Along the ship they sparkling break<br> - And gem the tide.<br><br> - Midst such a scene, no thoughts can find<br> - An entrance in the pensive mind,<br> - But such as virtue has refined,<br> - The past must smile—<br> - And flatt'ring fancy will be kind,<br> - And hope beguile.<br><br> - Blest silence! solitary friend—<br> - My thoughts with thee to <i>home</i> I send;<br> - And <i>there</i> absorbed my sorrows end—<br> - In vain I roam—<br> - As blossoms to the day-star tend,<br> - So I to home.<br><br> - Not more I owe that glorious ray<br> - That beams the blessing of the day;<br> - Not more my gratitude I pay<br> - For air and light—<br> - Than for that Home now far away—<br> - First, best delight.<br><br> - A little while, and that blest spot,<br> - From mem'ry shall raze each blot,<br> - And all my wand'rings there forgot,<br> - At last I'll rest—<br> - No sorrow shall disturb the cot<br> - So loved, so blest.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect30"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>AUTUMN WOODS.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem19"> - <tr><td>A deep ton'd requiem's in the sigh<br> - Of the moaning blast, as it hurries by<br> - Yon fading forest;<br> - Upon its rushing wings is borne<br> - A voice sad as the anthem's tone<br> - Above the dead:<br> - It is the wild wind's hymn of death,<br> - Which pours in plaintive strains its breath<br> - O'er autumn woods;<br> - When hurl'd to earth by the fitful storm,<br> - Some frail leaf's wan and wither'd form<br> - Sinks to its tomb.<br> - Sad relics of the dying year;<br> - Thy springtide glories now are sear,<br> - And all departed:<br> - Where now's thy fairy robe of spring,<br> - The sunbeam and the zephyr's wing<br> - Once wove for thee?<br> - Say, where's that gush of melody<br> - Thy sylvan minstrels pour'd for thee<br> - In thy summer bowers?<br> - Or where's the Ćolian song thou wouldst wake<br> - When some sporting zephyr's breath would shake<br> - Thy rustling leaves?<br> - Thy robe—thy song have past away,<br> - And the funeral pall and the funeral lay<br> - Alone are thine!<br> - How oft when summer's azure sky<br> - Was bath'd in the golden, gorgeous dye<br> - Of sunset's glow,<br> - I've lov'd to wander through thy bright<br> - And verdant bowers, gilt with light<br> - Of parting day;<br> - To list to the soft, faint melody<br> - Of thy vesper hymn, as it floated by<br> - On the passing breeze—<br> - Or view, when on the stream's bright sheen<br> - Was pictured all thy fairy scene<br> - In mimic art;—<br> - How calm that stream, in its slumber seeming,<br> - Of thee and all thy pageant dreaming<br> - Reflected there.<br> - But thro' thy shades 'twas not alone<br> - I stray'd. With me there wander'd one<br> - Of gentler mould,<br> - Around whose seraph form awakening,<br> - Young beauty's morning light was breaking<br> - In roseate beam—<br> - And round whose stainless brow fond Love,<br> - And Hope and Joy a wreath had wove<br> - Of freshest bloom.<br> - Thou sad memento of the tomb!<br> - Say, shall that wreath, with its sunny bloom,<br> - E'er fade like thee?<br> - Shall Time's chill mildew on it light,<br> - Or sorrow breathe its <i>autumn</i> blight<br> - Upon its flowers?<br> - A voice is in each falling leaf<br> - Which says, "earth's brightest joys are brief"—<br> - <i>Thus fade its hopes!</i><br> - Then mid that wreath of fading flowers<br> - Fond pleasure weaves, to deck her bowers,<br> - Oh! twine that flower<br> - Whose fadeless hue, whose springtide bloom<br> - Immortal lives, beyond the tomb—<br> - Bright S<small>HARON'S</small> R<small>OSE</small>.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">H. </div> - -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect31"></a> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>We extract the following sprightly effusion from the <i>North American -Magazine</i>, published in Philadelphia. It bears a strong resemblance to -the grace and freedom, and <i>piquancy</i> which distinguish the muse of -Halleck, one of the most highly gifted poets in America. We hope our -fair readers, however, will not suppose that the author's satire is -adapted to our meridian. The B<small>EAUTIES</small> of our southern clime, are too -generous and disinterested to be won by the sordid allurements of -splendid edifices, bank shares and gold eagles!—at least we hope so, -and should be sorry to find ourselves mistaken.</small></blockquote> - -<h4>THE DECLARATION.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem20"> - <tr><td>The lady sat within her bower,<br> - Where trellissed vines hung o'er her,<br> - With flashing eye and burning cheek,<br> - Down knelt her fond adorer;<br> - He took her soft white hand, and in<br> - Her bright eye fondly gazing,<br> - Sought for a look, to show that he<br> - An equal flame was raising;<br> - Yet still her eyes were turned away,<br> - And as his heart waxed bolder,<br> - And he devoured her lily hand,<br> - The lady's look grew colder.<br><br> - And then he swore by all the stars,<br> - That in the sky were shining—<br> - By all the verdant vines that o'er<br> - Her gentle bower were twining—<br> - By mountains, valleys, seas and streams,<br> - And by the moon above her,<br> - And everything therein that e'er<br> - Sophi or saints discover—<br> - He never could know peace again<br> - On earth, till he had won her;<br> - Yet still she answered not the look<br> - Of love he cast upon her.<br><br> - And then he swore, at her command,<br> - To show his love, he would do<br> - What never mortals did before,<br> - And none but lovers could do,<br> - That he would climb up to the moon,<br> - Or swim the ocean over—<br> - Would dine one day at Sandy Hook,<br> - And sup next night at Dover;<br> - Then jump from thence to London, and<br> - Alight on St. Paul's steeple—<br> - Then pull the Premier's nose, and make<br> - O'Connell damn the people.<br><br> - Or that he would put armour on,<br> - And, like a knight of yore, he<br> - Would fight with giants, castles scale,<br> - And gain immortal glory.<br> - Then go and build a kingdom up,<br> - And be a mighty winner;<br> - Bowstring the Sultan Mahmoud—and<br> - His T<small>URKEY</small> eat for dinner.<br> - Then follow Lander's dismal track,<br> - And on the Niger's banks<br> - An Empire of the Darkies found,<br> - And merit Tappan's thanks!<br><br> - If <small>HARDER</small> tasks she did demand,<br> - He would reform the nation,<br> - Make talent, honesty, and worth,<br> - Essentials to high station—<br> - Make politicians tell the truth,<br> - Give consciences to brokers,<br> - And put upon the temperance list<br> - An army of old soakers—<br> - Make lawyers "keep the people's peace,"<br> - Physicians kill them <small>CHEAPER</small>—<br> - A cloud was on the lady's brow,<br> - Which, as he spoke, grew deeper.<br><br> - He swore she had the brightest eyes,<br> - That ever look'd on mortal;<br> - And that their light was like the rays<br> - That stream from Heaven's own portal;<br> - That by her cheek, the opening rose<br> - Would look but dim and faded;<br> - And darker than the raven's wing,<br> - The hair her fair brow shaded;<br> - That Venus by her side would look<br> - A common country dowdy;—<br> - The lady blushed and smiled, and then<br> - Her brow again grew cloudy.<br><br> - Up sprung the lover then, and said,<br> - "Will you be Mrs. Popkins—<br> - Miss Julia Jane Amelia Ann<br> - Matilda Polly Hopkins?<br> - I have a house four stories high—<br> - We'll live in splendid style, and<br> - A handsome countryseat upon<br> - Lake George's sweetest island—<br> - Ten thousand eagles in the mint,<br> - Bankshares, untold, percented"—<br> - The lady bent her cheek to his,<br> - Her gentle heart relented!</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect32"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>FROM MY SCRAP BOOK.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem21"> - <tr><td>You ask me B——ty, why I mourn,<br> - Yet dry'st the tearful eye?<br> - You ask me why I look with scorn,<br> - And check the heaving sigh?<br> - Time was, when I could carol forth,<br> - To tune of lively glee;<br> - But dark despair has left no hope—<br> - Nor sigh—nor tear—for me.<br> - Like me—perchance some wayward sprite,<br> - Might dazzling lead astray;<br> - Then leave you on the giddy height,<br> - To perish far away:<br> - Take heed while yet you have the choice,<br> - Avoid the Syren's way;<br> - Nor listen to the artful voice,<br> - Which calls—but to betray;<br> - For sigh from him that is deceived,<br> - Or tear from eye that once believed,<br> - Is sought in vain—tho' fill'd with grief,<br> - Nor sigh nor tear can bring relief;<br> - 'Tis <i>time</i> alone can steel the heart,<br> - And foil the Syren's pointed dart.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>POWHATAN</small>. </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Petersburg, Dec. 19, 1834</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect33"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE MECHANICIAN AND UNCLE SIMON.</h4> -<br> -<p>About the period of what "<i>I am gaun to tell</i>," the ancient aristocracy -of Virginia had passed through its death struggle; the times when the -rich were every thing and the poor nothing, had passed away; and the -high pretensions of the sons of the Cavaliers had yielded to the more -levelling opinions of the Roundheads. The badges of distinction, such -as coats of arms and liveries, had become too odious to be generally -kept up; occasionally however the latter were seen, but so rarely, that -they looked like the spectres of departed greatness, and excited a -feeling of contempt or pity for the weakness of the master, rather than -respect for his wealth and rank. There was one class of people -nevertheless, who retained all their attachment to these distinctive -marks; and indeed they do so to this day: I mean the class of servants -who belonged to the old families. They were the veriest aristocrats -upon earth, and hated with the most unrelenting hatred all the ignoble -blood of the land, and deeply deplored the transition of property from -the nobles to the serfs. Though their own "<i>ancient but ignoble blood</i>" -had literally almost "<i>crept through scoundrels ever since the flood</i>," -they detested the poor and adored the rich. I shall never forget the -Fall of the year ——. I had just graduated at one of our northern -colleges, and received my two diplomas, with their red ribbons and -seals attached. They were deposited by my good friend Andrew McMackin, -the most expert diploma rigger in all the village, in a plain -cylindrical case of pasteboard, for safe keeping, and would have -remained there probably to this day unmolested, had not the rats made -an inroad upon them, and in a single night demolished sigillum and -signature—all that it had cost me years of hard labor to obtain—aye, -and twenty dollars to boot. Not satisfied, I suppose, with the -attestation of the president and venerable board of trustees, they were -desirous of adding their own ratification of my pretensions to science. -Be that as it may; full of delightful anticipation at the prospect of -returning to my native state, after an absence of four years, I took my -seat in the mail stage, and travelled three hundred miles without once -going to bed. Such a journey at this day of steamboat and railroad car -would be nothing, but at that time it was a great undertaking, and -attended with much fatigue. The vehicles were crazy and often broke -down, and the passengers had the pleasure of paying dearly for the -privilege of walking many a mile through the mud. At length I arrived -at the little town of F——, the end of my journey on the great mail -route, where I expected to meet with some kind of conveyance to take me -into the country to my uncle's. As I leaped from the carriage to the -pavement, where many loiterers were gathered to witness the arrival of -the stage, I found myself suddenly locked in the arms of some one, who -exclaimed, "<i>There he is, the very moral of his grandpapa!</i> God bless -your honor, how do ye do? I'm so glad to see you." Extricating myself -with some degree of embarrassment, because of the crowd around me, I -perceived that the salutation proceeded from one of our old servants, -who stood gazing upon me with the moat benevolent smile. His appearance -was quite outré to one who had lived so long at the north. His old and -faded livery, was blue turned up with yellow; he held in his hand a -horseman's cap, without the bearskin; his boots had once been -white-topped, but could no longer claim that distinctive epithet; like -Sir Hudibras, he wore but one spur, though probably for a different -reason; his high forehead glistened in the sun, and his slightly grey -hair was combed neatly back, and queud behind with an eelskin so tight -that he could hardly wink his eyes, exhibiting a face remarkably -intelligent and strongly marked, with a nose uncommonly high and -hawkbilled for a negro. Perceiving my embarrassment, he drew back with -a very courtly bow, and begged pardon, declaring he was so glad to see -me, he had forgotten himself and made too free. I made haste to assure -him that he had not—gave him a hearty shake by the hand—called him -Uncle Simon, a name he had been always accustomed to from me, and -drawing him aside, overwhelmed him with questions about every body and -every thing at home. Tell me, said I, how is my uncle? "I thank you -sir, quite hearty, and much after the old sort—full of his projjecks, -heh! heh! perpechil motion, and what not." What, said I, is he at that -still? "Oh yes—oh yes—and carridges to go without hawses; God love -you, Mass Ned, I don't think they ken go without animel nater." And how -does my aunt like all this? "Ah!" said he, putting up his hands with an -air of disgust, "She can't abide it—things go on badly. You 'member my -four greys? So beautiful!—my four in hand!—all gone, all sold. Why, -sir, I could whistle them hawses to the charrut jest as easy as snap my -finger. Our fine London charut too! <i>that's gone</i>—and my poor Missis -your aunt, has nothin to ride in, but a nasty, pitiful push phaton." I -am sorry to hear it, Simon. "Why, Mass Ned, what mek you all let them -Demmy Cats sarve you so? What you call 'em? Publicanes? Yes, <i>I'd</i> cane -'um as old master used to do." But Simon, how is cousin Mary? "Miss -Mary? Oh, Miss Mary is a beauty; gay as a young filly, and she walks -upon her pasterns ——." Well, well, said I, interrupting him, Simon -let us be off; what have you brought for me to ride? "Old Reglus, sir, -your old favorite." Having taken some refreshment, and transferred my -clothes to the portmanteau, I mounted Regulus, who still shewed his -keeping. He was a bright bay, and his hair was as glossy as silk under -Simon's management; his eye still glanced its fire, and his wide -nostrils gave token of his wind. He knew me, I shall ever believe it, -for my voice made him prick his ears, as if listening to the music of -former days. It seemed to inspire him with new life; he flew like an -arrow, and Simon found it impossible to keep up with me, mounted as he -was on a high trotting, rawboned devil, that made the old man bound -like a trapball, whenever he missed his up-and-down-position movement. -His figure, thus bobbing in front of a monstrous portmanteau and -bearskin, was so ludicrous, I could not forbear laughing; and reining -up my steed, I told him I would ride slower for the sake of -conversation with him. "Do, my good sir," cried he, "for this vile -garran will knock the breath out of my body. If I had but my old hawse -Grey Dick alive agin—that hawse, Mass Ned, was the greatest hawse upon -the face of the yearth; I rod him ninety miles the hottest day that -ever come from heaven, and when I got through our outer gate, he seized -the bit between his teeth, and run away with me, and never stopped till -he got clean into the stable. Whenever I fed him, I was 'bliged to shet -the stable door and go away, for if he heard me move or a stirrup -jingle, he would'nt eat another mouthful, but stood with his head up -and his eyes flying about, impatient for me to mount." I knew this was -the moment to put in a leading question to bring out a story I had -heard a thousand times. That was not the horse that ran away with you -when a boy? "No—no—that was Whalebone; <i>your</i> grandpapa used always -to go to court in his coach and six; I can see him now, in his great -big wig, hanging down upon his shoulders, and powdered as white as a -sheet. I was then a little shaver, and always went behind the carridge -to open the gates. Waitinman George rod the old gentleman's ridin horse -Bearskin, and led Mass Bobby's hawse Whalebone; Mass Bobby rod in the -carridge with old master. Well, one day what should George do but put -me up upon Whalebone, as big a devil as ever was; soonever I got upon -him, off he went by the coach as hard as he could stave; old master -hallooed and bawled—he'll kill him—he'll kill him—George how dare -you put Simon upon Whalebone? Pshey! the more he hallooed the more -Whalebone run. I pulled and pulled till I got out of sight, and turned -down the quarter stretch, and then <i>I did give him the timber</i>—Flying -Childers was nothin to him. When old master got home, there I was with -Whalebone as cool as a <i>curcumber</i>. I made sure I should get a caning, -but all he said was, D—n the fellow! I 'blieve he could ride old -Whalebone's tail off—heh! heh! heh!"</p> - -<p>I am sorry I cannot do more justice to the eloquence of Simon, who -excelled in all the arts of oratory. His eyes spoke as much as his -tongue; his gestures were vehement, but quite appropriate; he uttered -some words in as startling a voice as Henry Clay, and his forefinger -did as much execution as John Randolph's. As to his political opinions, -he was the most confirmed aristocrat, and thought it the birthright of -his master's family, to ride over the poor, booted and spurred. It was -his delight to tell of his meeting one day, as he swept along the road -with his smoking four in hand, a poor man on horseback, whom he -contemptuously styled a <i>Johnny</i>. He ordered the man to give the road; -but as he did not obey him as readily as he desired, he resolved to -punish him. By a dexterous wheel of his leaders, he brought the chariot -wheel in contact with the fellow's knee, and shaved every button off as -nicely as he could have shaved his beard with a razor. But enough of -Simon. I beguiled the way by drawing him out upon his favorite topics, -until we got within sight of my uncle's house, a fine old mansion, with -an avenue of cedars a mile in length. They had been kept for several -generations neatly trimmed, and he who had dared to mar their beauty -with an axe, would have been considered a felon, and met his fate -without benefit of clergy. I have lived to see them all cut down by the -ruthless hand of an overseer, who sees no beauty in any thing but a -cornstalk. However, this is wandering from my present theme. Then they -were in all their evergreen loveliness, and I hailed them as my ancient -friends, as I galloped by them, with a joyous feeling at approaching -the scene of my childhood. The folding doors soon flew wide open, and -the whole family rushed out to meet me with true-hearted old fashioned -Virginia promptitude. I must not attempt to describe a meeting which is -always better imagined than described. Let it suffice, that after the -most affectionate greeting, which extended to every servant about the -premises, I was ushered to my bed room at a late hour, with as much of -state as could be mustered about the now decaying establishment, and -soon sunk into a profound slumber, well earned by the toils and -fatigues of my journey. Early the next morning, before I left my room, -my excellent and revered uncle paid me a visit, and ordered in the -never failing julep,—<i>such a one as would have done honor to Chotank</i>. -At the same time he suggested to me that he would greatly prefer my -taking a mixture of his own, which he extolled as much as Don Quixotte -did his balsam to Sancho, or Dr. Sangrado his warm water to Gil Blas. -It was a pleasant beverage, he said, compounded of an acid and an -alkali. He had discovered by close observation, that all diseases had -their origin in acid, and that alkali of course was the grand panacea; -even poisons were acids, and he had no doubt that he should be able to -form a concrete mass, by means of beef gall and alkali, which would -resemble and equal in virtue the mad stone. If I felt the slightest -acidity of stomach, I would find myself much relieved by one of his -powders. He had written to Dr. Rush on the subject, and he shewed me a -letter from that gentleman, at which he laughed heartily, and in which -the Doctor protested he might as well attempt to batter the rock of -Gibraltar with mustard seed shot as to attack the yellow fever with -alkali. I could not help smiling at the earnestness of my dear uncle, -and assured him that I had no doubt of the virtues of his medicine, but -as I was quite well, I would rather try the anti-fogmatic; and if I -should feel indisposed, would resort to his panacea; although I -secretly resolved to have as little to do with it as Gil Blas had with -water. Having dressed myself and descended to the breakfast room, I -there met my aunt and cousin, who soon made me acquainted with the -present condition of the family. Every thing was fast declining, in -consequence of the total absorption of the mind of my uncle in his -visionary schemes; and I saw abundant evidence of the wreck of his -fortune, in the absence of a thousand comforts and elegancies which I -had been accustomed to behold. He soon joined us, and such was his -excellence of character, that we most carefully avoided casting the -smallest damp upon his ardor. Indeed, he was a man of great natural -talent and much acquired information, and was far above the ridicule -which was sometimes played off upon him by his more ignorant neighbors. -I almost begin to think that <i>we</i> were the mistaken ones, when I look -around and see the perfection of many of his schemes, which I then -thought wholly impracticable. When old Simon thought that a carriage -could never go without <i>animel nater</i>, he certainty never dreamed of a -railroad car, nor of the steam carriages of England; and when my uncle -gravely told me that he should fill up his icehouse, and manufacture -ice as he wanted it in Summer, by letting out air highly condensed in a -tight copper vessel, upon water, I did not dream of the execution of -the plan by some French projector. I must not be thus diffuse, or I -shall weary the patience of my reader. A ride was proposed after -breakfast, and my uncle immediately invited me to try his newly -invented vehicle which could not be overset. I have constructed, said -he, a carriage with a moveable perch; by means of which the body swings -out horizontally, whenever the wheels on one side pass over any high -obstacle or ground more elevated than the other wheels rest upon; and I -shall be glad to exhibit it to a young man who is fresh from college, -and must be acquainted with the principles of mechanics. I readily -accepted his proposal, although I trembled for my neck; but declared I -had no mechanical turn whatever, and could not construct a wheelbarrow. -He was sorry to hear this, as he was in hopes I would be the depositary -of all his schemes, and bring them to perfection in case of his death, -for the benefit of his family. We soon set off on our ride; and Simon -was the driver. As I anticipated, in descending a hill where the ground -presented great inequality, the whole party were capsized, and nothing -saved our bones but the lowness of the vehicle. Never shall I forget -the chagrin of my uncle, nor the impatient contemptuous look of Simon, -as he righted the carriage; he did not dare to expostulate with his -master, but could not forbear saying that he had never met with such an -accident when he drove his four greys. "Ah, there is the cause," said -my uncle, much gratified at having an excuse for his failure; "Simon is -evidently intoxicated; old man, never presume to drive me again when -you are not perfectly sober; you will ruin the most incomparable -contrivance upon earth." Simon contented himself with a sly wink at me, -and we made the best of our way home; my uncle promising me another -trial in a short time, and I determining to avoid it, if human -ingenuity could contrive the means. The next day, as I was amusing -myself with a book, my uncle came in from his workshop, with a face -beaming with pleasure; and entering the room, proceeded in the most -careful manner to close all the doors; and producing a small crooked -stick, said to me with a mysterious air, "My boy, this stick, small and -inconsiderable as it seems to be, has made your fortune. It is worth a -million of dollars, for it has suggested to me an improvement in my -machine for producing perpetual motion, which puts the thing beyond all -doubt." Is it possible, cried I, that so small a stick can be worth so -much? "Yes, depend upon it—and I carefully closed the doors, because I -would not be overheard for the world. Some fellow might slip before me -to the patent office, and rob me of my treasure." I observed that -nobody was there who could possibly do so. "Yes, somebody might be -casually passing, and I cannot be too vigilant. I take it for granted," -he resumed, "that you are apprised of the grand desideratum in this -business. You do not imagine, with the ignorant, that I expect to make -matter last longer than God intended; the object is to get a machine to -keep time so accurately, that it may be used at sea to ascertain the -longitude with precision. Do you know that a gentleman has already -constructed a time piece, for which the Board of Longitude paid him -fifty thousand pounds; but owing to the metallic expansion, it would -not be entirely accurate." I answered that I had not so much as heard -of the Board of Longitude—and he proceeded to explain his improvement, -of which I did not comprehend a syllable. All that I felt sure of, -although I did not tell him so, was that he would not succeed in -realizing the million of dollars; and, accordingly, when admitted as a -great favor into his sanctum sanctorum, the work shop, to witness his -machine put in motion, it stood most perversely still after one -revolution, and "<i>some slight alteration</i>" remained to be made to the -end of the chapter,—until hope became extinct in every breast save -that of the projector. I could fill a volume with anecdotes of this -sort, but will add only one, as descriptive of the very great height to -which visionary notions may be carried. My uncle was a federalist, and -of course hated Buonaparte from the bottom of his soul. He told me as a -most profound secret, that he had discovered the means of making an old -man young again, by removing from him the atmospheric pressure, and -that nothing deterred him from patenting his discovery, but the fear -that Buonaparte would attach his machinery to a body of soldiers and -fly across the British Channel, and thus light down in the midst of -England, and make an easy conquest of the only barrier left upon earth -to secure the liberties of mankind. Eheu! jam satis! thought I. In this -way did my poor uncle spend his time, to the utter ruin of a fine -estate, which was surrendered to the management of that most pestilent -of the human race, an overseer,—who would not at last be at the -trouble of furnishing the old gentleman with wood enough to keep him -warm in his spacious edifice. The means he resorted to, to reprove the -overseer, were not less characteristic and laughable than many of his -singular notions. One very cold day he sent for him; the man attended, -and was ushered with much solemnity into an apartment where a single -chump was burning feebly in the chimney place, and a table was standing -in the centre of the room, covered with papers, pen and ink. My uncle -received him with unusual courtesy, and ordered the servant to set a -chair for Mr. Corncob by the <i>fire</i>,—with a peculiar emphasis on the -word. "I have sent for you, Mr. Corncob," said he, "to get you to -witness my will. You see, sir," pointing at the same time to the -fire—"you see, sir, how small a probability there is that I shall -survive the present winter. I am anxious to settle my affairs previous -to my being attacked by the pleurisy, and have therefore sent for you -to aid me in doing so." This was a severe reproof, and the man having -done as he was bid, retired with an air the most sheepish imaginable. I -fill up the picture by stating that I married my cousin, and inherited -the estate in due course of time; but a mortgage swallowed it up as -effectually as an earthquake—and poor old Simon died of a broken heart -when Regulus was knocked off at the sale of his master's property at -twenty dollars, to the man whom he hated of all others, Christopher -Corncob, Esquire.</p> -<div align="right"><small>NUGATOR</small>. </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect34"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>LINES WRITTEN IMPROMPTU,</h4> -<center><small>On a Lady's intimating a wish to see some verses of mine in the -Messenger.</small></center><br> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem22"> - <tr><td>A Lady requests me to write<br> - Some lines for your Messenger's muse,<br> - And I cannot be so impolite,<br> - By any means, as to refuse.<br><br> - So I scribble these words in my way,<br> - In spite of Minerva, you see;<br> - But Venus will smile on my lay,<br> - And that is sufficient for me.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">A. B. </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect35"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE PEASANT-WOMEN OF THE CANARIES.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem23"> - <tr><td>Beautiful Islands, how fair you lie<br> - Beneath the light of your cloudless sky,<br> - And the light green waves that around you play,<br> - Seem keeping forever a holiday;—<br> - Beautiful Islands, how bright you rise<br> - 'Twixt the crystal sea and the sunny skies!<br><br> - The luscious grape, with its royal hue<br> - Veil'd in a tint of the softest blue,<br> - Hangs on the vine in its purple prime<br> - As proud to garnish its own sweet clime,<br> - And the olive sports in your soft, sweet air<br> - Its pale green foliage—a native there.<br><br> - Music is ceaseless your trees among,<br> - Thou Island-home of a choral throng;<br> - Music unheard on a foreign shore;—<br> - Songs of the free—which they will not pour<br> - When exile-minstrels compelled to roam—<br> - They're sacred songs to their sweet isle-home.<br><br> - Why, though it's light in the Olive-bower,<br> - And fragrance breathes from the Orange-flower,<br> - And the sea is still and the air is calm<br> - And the early dew is a liquid balm—<br> - Why are the young ones forbade to roam,<br> - Or stray from the door of their Cottage-home?<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small><br><br> - In the light that plays through the Olive-bower,<br> - In the scent that breathes from the Orange-flower,<br> - In the liquid balm of the early dew,<br> - In the smooth, calm sea with its emerald hue,<br> - Can the Peasant-mother no charm descry<br> - To protect from the curse of the "evil eye."<br><br> - While they shall loiter the trees among,<br> - Echoing the wild Canary's song,<br> - The "<i>mal de ajo</i>" may on them rest<br> - And blight the pride of the mother's breast;<br> - Her bosom throbs with a secret dread,<br> - Though paths of Eden her loved ones tread.<br><br> - Lo, from the Peak, with its hoary crown,<br> - The "<i>el a pagador</i>" sails down,<br> - And over the Cot in the moon-light floats,<br> - Foreboding death in its awful notes—<br> - Who in that Cottage but pants for breath,<br> - And hears that voice as the voice of death?<br><br> - Richly the vine with its deep green leaf,<br> - Girdles the base of the Teneriffe,—<br> - Yet there, in the prime of the sunny day,<br> - The Peasant-maiden dares not to stray,<br> - Till the secret charm to her arm is set,<br> - And her bosom throbs to an amulet.<br><br> - When, oh! when, shall darkness flee,<br> - From the rosy Isles of the sunny sea?<br> - The light of Truth with its living ray,<br> - Pour on their dwellers a clearer day,<br> - And <i>Mind</i> from the chain of its darkness rise,<br> - Like a bird set free, to its native skies?</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>ELIZA.</small> </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Maine</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> D. Y. Brown's Superstitions -of the Canary Islands.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect36"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>THE HEART.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem24"> - <tr><td>Man's heart! what melancholy things<br> - Are garner'd up in thee!—<br> - What solace unto life it brings<br> - That none the heart can see—<br> - 'Tis shut from every human eye,<br> - Close curtain'd from the view;<br> - The scene alike of grief or joy—<br> - Man's Hell and Heaven too.<br><br> - Should all mankind combine to tear<br> - The curtain, thrown around,<br> - Their labor would be spent in air—<br> - It is his hallow'd ground:<br> - Within thy magic circle, Heart!<br> - So potent is his spell,<br> - No human hand hath strength to part<br> - Or turn aside the veil.<br><br> - In sadness, there's a pleasure soft,<br> - "Which mourners only know;"<br> - My heart affords this treasure oft,<br> - And there I love to go;<br> - It is the chosen spot where I<br> - Can live my life anew—<br> - My Home!—my Castle!—my Serai!<br> - Which none must dare break through.<br><br> - In thee, my Heart! I am alone<br> - Quite unrestrained and free,<br> - Thou'rt hung with pictures all my own,<br> - And drawn for none but me;<br> - All that in secret passes there,<br> - Forever I can hide;<br> - Ambition—love—or dark despair—<br> - My jealousy—or pride.<br><br> - Yes, when ambitious—ardent—young—<br> - I thought the world my own,<br> - My glowing portraits there were hung;<br> - How have their colors flown!—<br> - Some are by Time, defaced so far<br> - I look on them with pain;<br> - But Time nor nothing else can mar<br> - The portrait of my J<small>ANE</small>.<br><br> - I placed her there who won my soul;<br> - No creature saw the maid;<br> - I gazed in bliss, without control,<br> - On every charm displayed:<br> - It was a sweet, impassion'd hour,<br> - When not an eye was near<br> - To steal into my lonely bower,<br> - And kiss her image there.<br><br> - Earth held not on its globe the man<br> - Who breathed that holy air;<br> - No mortal eye but mine did scan<br> - My folly with my fair;<br> - Sole monarch of that silent spot,<br> - All things gave place to me;<br> - I did but wish—no matter what—<br> - Each obstacle would flee.<br><br> - And did she love? She loved me not,<br> - But gave her hand away;<br> - I hied me to my lonely spot—<br> - In anguish passed the day;<br> - And such a desolation wide,<br> - Spread o'er that holy place,<br> - The stream of life itself seemed dried,<br> - Or ebbing out apace.<br><br> - But what I did—what madly said—<br> - I cannot tell to any—<br> - Her portrait in its place hath staid,<br> - Though years have flown so many;<br> - Nor can each lovely lineament<br> - So deep impress'd, depart,<br> - Till Nature shall herself be spent,<br> - And thou shalt break, M<small>Y</small> H<small>EART</small>.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect37"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<blockquote><small>M<small>R</small>. W<small>HITE</small>,—I send you a Parody upon Bryant's Autumn, apparently -written by some disconsolate citizen of Richmond after the adjournment -of the Legislature in time past. If the picture be faithfully drawn, it -may perhaps amuse the members of the assembly who are now in your city.</small></blockquote> -<div align="right"><small>NUGATOR.</small> </div> - -<h4>PARODY ON BRYANT'S AUTUMN.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem25"> - <tr><td>The very dullest days are come, the dullest of the year,<br> - When all our great Assembly men are gone away from here;<br> - Heaped up in yonder Capitol, how many bills lie dead,<br> - They just allowed to live awhile, to knock them on the head;<br> - Tom, Dick, and Harry all have gone and left the silent hall,<br> - And on the now deserted square we meet no one at all—<br> - Where are the fellows? the fine young fellows that were so lately here<br> - And vexed the drowsy ear of night with frolic and good cheer.<br> - Alas! they all are at their homes—the glorious race of fellows,<br> - And some perhaps are gone to forge, and some are at the bellows.<br> - Old Time is passing where they are, but Time will pass in vain;<br> - All <i>never</i> can, though <i>some</i> may be, <i>transported</i> here again:<br> - Old "<i>What d'ye call him</i>," he's been off a week, or maybe more,<br> - And took a little negro up, behind and one before;<br> - But <i>What's his name</i> and <i>You know who</i>, they lingered to the last,<br> - And neither had a dollar left and seemed to be downcast;<br> - Bad luck had fallen on them as falls the plague on men,<br> - And their phizzes were as blank as if they'd never smile again;<br> - And then when comes December next, as surely it will come,<br> - To call the future delegate from out his distant home,<br> - When the sound of cracking nuts is heard in lobby and in hall,<br> - And glimmer in the smoky light old Shockoe Hill and all,<br> - An old friend searches for the fellows he knew the year before,<br> - And sighs to find them on the Hill Capitoline, no more;<br> - But then he thinks of one who her promise had belied,<br> - The beautiful Virginia, who had fallen in her pride.<br> - In that great house 'twas said she fell where stands her gallant chief,<br> - Who well might weep in marble, that her race had been so brief—<br> - Yet not unmeet it was he thought—oh no, ye heavenly powers!<br> - Since she trusted those good fellows, who kept such shocking hours.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect38"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem26"> - <tr><td><small>Audire magnos jam videor duces<br> - Non indecoro pulvere sordidos.—<i>Hor. Car. L. ii. 1.</i></small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote>I stood upon the heights above Charlestown, and was silently -contrasting the then peaceful aspect of the scene with that which it -presented on the day of wrath and blood which had rendered the place so -memorable in story, as my fancy filled with images of the past and once -more crowded the hill—not indeed with knights and paladins of old,</blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem27"> - <tr><td><small>Sed rusticorum mascula militum<br> - Proles, Sabellis docta ligonibus<br> - Versare glebas, et severae<br> - Matris ad arbitrium recisos<br> - Portare fustes.—<i>Hor. Lib. iii. Car. 6.</i></small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote>As the silent hosts arose in imagination before me, I thought of the -complicated feelings which on that day must have stirred their hearts; -I thought of the breasts which kindled under the insult of invasion and -were nerved with the stern determination to play out the game upon -which was staked their all of earthly hope or fear, and it struck me -that the gallant Warren, whose voice had often made the patriot's heart -to glow and nerved the warrior's arm, might perhaps have addressed them -in sentiment something as follows:</blockquote> - -<h4>THE BATTLE OF BREED'S HILL.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem28"> - <tr><td>Look down upon the bay, my men,<br> - As proudly comes the foe;<br> - Ah! send them back their shout agen,<br> - That patriot hearts may glow.<br><br> - They come to us in pomp of war—<br> - The tyrant in his gold;<br> - Our arms are few—they're stronger far,<br> - But who will say as bold?<br><br> - No Briton ever forged the chains<br> - Shall bind our hands at will;<br> - The Pilgrim spirit still remains,<br> - Out on the western hill.<br><br> - Their power may awe the coward slave,<br> - But not the stalwart free;<br> - Their steel may drive us to the grave,<br> - But not from liberty.<br><br> - Our fathers spirit boils along<br> - Impetuous through our veins;<br> - We ask to know, where are the strong,<br> - To bind us in their chains?<br><br> - Then let the foe look to his steel,<br> - And count his numbers strong;<br> - We bide him here for wo or weal,<br> - As he shall know ere long.<br><br> - We'll dare him to the last of death—<br> - We've sworn it in our hearts;<br> - We stand upon our native heath—<br> - We'll hold till life departs.<br><br> - Oh! what is death to slavery!<br> - The dead at least are free:<br> - And what is life for victory!<br> - We strike for <i>liberty!</i><br><br> - This sod shall warm beneath our feet,<br> - All reeking in our gore,<br> - And hearts that gladly cease to beat,<br> - The foe must trample o'er.<br><br> - Our boys are bold—their mothers stern,<br> - Will rear them true and brave,<br> - And many noble hearts shall burn<br> - To free a father's grave.<br><br> - Let every tongue be hushed and still,<br> - Each soldier hold his breath—<br> - They're marching up the sloping hill,—<br> - And now prepare for death.</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>ALPHA.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect39"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>TO A LADY.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem29"> - <tr><td>Oh! do not sing—my soul is wrung<br> - When those sweet tones salute mine ear;<br> - Thou canst not sing as <i>thou hast</i> sung—<br> - As <i>I have heard</i>, I cannot hear.<br> - Then do not breathe to me one strain<br> - Of those I loved in years gone by;<br> - Their melody can only throw<br> - A darker cloud upon my sky.<br><br> - Speak not to me!—thine accents fall<br> - By far too sadly on my ear;<br> - They <i>told</i> of love, and hope, and joy—<br> - They <i>tell</i> of life made lone and drear.<br> - No word speak thou! The tones are changed<br> - That breathed to me thy young heart's vow<br> - Of all-enduring fondness; aye!<br> - Thou canst but speak in <i>kindness</i> now.<br><br> - And worse than all would be the smile<br> - Which once was mine, and only mine;<br> - Thou wert my hope—thy love my pride—<br> - Thy heart my spirit's chosen shrine.<br> - But <i>now</i>—oh! smile not on me <i>now;</i><br> - 'Tis insult—worse, 'tis mockery!<br> - Estranged, and cold, and false, thou art;<br> - Smile if thou wilt—but not on me.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right">M. S. L. </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect40"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>TO IANTHE.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem30"> - <tr><td>Think of me when the morning wakes,<br> - With a smile that's bright and a blush that's new;<br> - And the wave-rocked goddess gently shakes<br> - From her rosy wings, the gems of dew.<br><br> - Think of me, when the day-god burns<br> - In his noon-tide blaze and his purest light;<br> - And think of me when his chariot turns<br> - To the sombre shades of silent night.<br><br> - Think of me, when the evening's store<br> - Of brilliance, fades on the wondering eye;<br> - And think of me, when the flowers pour<br> - Their incense to the star-lit sky.<br><br> - Think of me when the evening star,<br> - Through the deep blue sky shall dart his beams;<br> - And think of me when the mind, afar,<br> - Shall chase the forms of its joyous dreams.<br><br> - Think of me in the hour of mirth—<br> - Think of me in the hour of prayer—<br> - Aye! think amidst each scene of earth,<br> - You feel my spirit is mingling there.<br><br> - For morning's beam—nor evening's light—<br> - Nor days of woe—nor hours of glee—<br> - Nor e'en religion's holiest rite,<br> - Can steal or force my thoughts from thee.</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>FERGUS.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect41"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>SONNET.</h4> - -<center><small>FROM THE PORTUGUES OF CAMOENS.</small><br> -<br> -<small>BY R. H. WILDE, <i>Of Georgia</i>.</small><br> -<br> -<small>Sonnet xliii. of the edition of 1779-1780.<br> -<br> -"O cysne quando sente ser chegada," &c.</small></center> -<br><br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem31"> - <tr><td>They say the Swan, though mute his whole life long,<br> - Pours forth sweet melody when life is flying,<br> - Making the desert plaintive with his song,<br> - Wondrous and sad, and sweetest still while dying;<br> - Is it for life and pleasure past he's sighing,<br> - Grieving to lose what none can e'er prolong?<br> - Oh, no! he hails its close, on death relying<br> - As an escape from violence and wrong:<br> - And thus, dear lady! I at length perceiving,<br> - The fatal end of my unhappy madness,<br> - In thy oft broken faith no more believing,<br> - Welcome despair's sole comforter with gladness,<br> - And mourning one so fair is so deceiving,<br> - Breathe out my soul in notes of love and sadness.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect42"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>EPIGRAMME FRANCAISE.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem32"> - <tr><td>Lit de mes plaisirs; lit de mes pleurs;<br> - Lit on je nais; lit on je mours;<br> - Tu nous fais voir combien procheins<br> - Sort nos plaisirs de nos chagrins.</td></tr> -</table> - -<h5>TRANSLATION.</h5> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem33"> - <tr><td>Couch of Sorrow; Couch of Joy;<br> - Of Life's first breath, and Death's last sigh;<br> - Thou makest us see what neighbors near<br> - Our pleasures and our sorrows are.</td></tr> -</table> -<p>The above was the execution of a task proposed by a French gentleman, -who, boasting the piquant terseness of his language, said that the -original could not be rendered into English.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect43"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>TRUE CONSOLATION.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem34"> - <tr><td>He had wept o'er the honored, in age who die;<br> - O'er the loved,—in beauty's bloom;<br> - O'er the blighted buds of infancy:<br> - Till all earth was to him a Tomb.<br><br> - And sorrow had drunk his youthful blood,<br> - And hastened the work of Time;<br> - And the cankering tooth of ingratitude<br> - Had withered his manhood's prime.<br><br> - But he turned from earth, and he looked to the sky,<br> - His sorrow by faith beguiling;<br> - Where Mercy sits enthroned on high,<br> - With his loved ones round her smiling.<br><br> - He looked to Eternity's bright shore,<br> - From the wreck of perished years;<br> - And Mercy's voice, through the storm's wild roar,<br> - Came down to sooth his fears.<br><br> - That gentle voice has charmed away<br> - The frenzy from his brain;<br> - And his withered heart, in her eye's mild ray,<br> - May bud and bloom again;<br><br> - And her smile has chased the gloom from his brow,<br> - So late by clouds o'ercast;<br> - And his cheek is bright with the sun-set glow,<br> - That tells that the Storm is past.<br><br> - And his heart returns to the world again,<br> - But forgets not the world above;<br> - For Heaven sends love to sooth earthly pain,<br> - But Heaven's whole bliss is Love.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect44"></a> -<br> -<br> -<div align="right"><small>For the Southern Literary Messenger. </small></div> - -<h4>SONNET.</h4> - -<center><small>BY R. H. WILDE, <i>Of Georgia</i>.</small></center> -<br><br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem34"> - <tr><td>Thou hast thy faults V<small>IRGINIA</small>!—yet I own<br> - I love thee still, although no son of thine;<br> - For I have climb'd thy mountains, not alone—<br> - And made the wonders of thy vallies mine,<br> - Finding from morning's dawn 'till day's decline<br> - Some marvel yet unmarked—some peak whose throne<br> - Was loftier; girt with mist, and crown'd with pine,<br> - Some deep and rugged glen with copse o'ergrown,<br> - The birth of some sweet valley, or the line<br> - Traced by some silver stream that murmured lone;<br> - Or the dark cave where hidden crystals shine,<br> - Or the wild arch across the blue sky thrown;<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small><br> - Or else those traits of nature, more divine<br> - That in some favored child of thine had shone.</td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> The Natural Bridge.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect45"></a> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>[The following letter, written by a distinguished President of the -oldest College in Virginia, has been already or rather formerly before -the public;—but no apology is necessary for transferring it to the -columns of the "Messenger." Its elegant style and still more excellent -sentiments, will always command admiration,—and we doubt whether we -could render a more essential service to society than to republish it -annually, in order that every young married lady (at least within the -range of our subscription) should receive the benefit of its precepts. -Certain we are, that more wholesome advice conveyed in more agreeable -language, we have seldom seen contained in the same space. It is of -itself a volume of instruction, and we do most cheerfully recommend it -to the softer sex, whether married or single; for the married may -profit by it even after years of conjugal tranquillity—and the single -may at least <i>expect</i> to profit. It is more especially applicable, -however, to her who has just sworn her vows on the altar of -hymen—whose life of bliss and peace, or misery and discord, may depend -upon the first six or twelve months of "prudent, amiable, uniform -conduct."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Let it not be understood, however, that we are believers in the -doctrine, that the pleasures of the matrimonial voyage are wholly -dependant upon the conduct of the lady. She is but the second in -command, and still greater responsibilities rest upon him who stands at -the helm and guides the frail bark of human happiness. We should indeed -be thankful if some of our highly gifted and experienced friends would -prepare a <i>counterpart</i> to this valuable letter of advice, designed -more particularly for the edification of such of us lords of creation -as have either contracted or are likely to contract the nuptial bond. -As to the old bachelors they are an incorrigible race, upon whom such -advice would be wasted, and therefore they need not trouble themselves -to read it.]</small></blockquote> - -<h4>ADVICE FROM A FATHER TO HIS ONLY DAUGHTER.</h4> - -<center><small>WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER HER MARRIAGE.</small></center> -<br><br> -<p><i>My dear Daughter</i>,—You have just entered into that state which is -replete with happiness or misery. The issue depends upon that prudent, -amiable, uniform conduct, which wisdom and virtue so strongly -recommend, on the one hand, or on that imprudence which a want of -reflection or passion may prompt, on the other.</p> - -<p>You are allied to a man of honor, of talents, and of an open, generous -disposition. You have, therefore, in your power, all the essential -ingredients of domestic happiness; it cannot be marred, if you now -reflect upon that system of conduct which you ought invariably to -pursue—if you now see clearly, the path from which you will resolve -never to deviate. Our conduct is often the result of whim or caprice, -often such as will give us many a pang, unless we see beforehand, what -is always the most praiseworthy, and the most essential to happiness.</p> - -<p>The first maxim which you should impress deeply upon your mind, is, -never to attempt to control your husband by opposition, by displeasure, -or any other mark of anger. A man of sense, of prudence, of warm -feelings, cannot, and will not, bear an opposition of any kind, which -is attended with an angry look or expression. The current of his -affections is suddenly stopped; his attachment is weakened; he begins -to feel a mortification the most pungent; he is belittled even in his -own eyes; and be assured, the wife who once excites those sentiments in -the breast of a husband, will never regain the high ground which she -might and ought to have retained. When he marries her, if he be a good -man, he expects from her smiles, not frowns; he expects to find in her -one who is not to control him—not to take from him the freedom of -acting as his own judgment shall direct, but one who will place such -confidence in him, as to believe that his prudence is his best guide. -Little things, what in reality are mere trifles in themselves, often -produce bickerings, and even quarrels. Never permit them to be a -subject of dispute; yield them with pleasure, with a smile of -affection. Be assured that one difference outweighs them all a -thousand, or ten thousand times. A difference with your husband ought -to be considered as the greatest calamity—as one that is to be most -studiously guarded against; it is a demon which must never be permitted -to enter a habitation where all should be peace, unimpaired confidence, -and heartfelt affection. Besides, what can a woman gain by her -opposition or her differences? Nothing. But she loses every thing; she -loses her husband's respect for her virtues, she loses his love, and -with that, all prospect of future happiness. She creates her own -misery, and then utters idle and silly complaints, but utters them in -vain. The love of a husband can be retained only by the high opinion -which he entertains of his wife's goodness of heart, of her amiable -disposition, of the sweetness of her temper, of her prudence, and of -her devotion to him. Let nothing upon any occasion, ever lessen that -opinion. On the contrary, it should augment every day: he should have -much more reason to admire her for those excellent qualities, which -will cast a lustre over a virtuous woman, when her personal attractions -are no more.</p> - -<p>Has your husband staid out longer than you expected? When he returns, -receive him as the partner of your heart. Has he disappointed you in -something you expected, whether of ornament, or furniture, or of any -conveniency? Never evince discontent; receive his apology with -cheerfulness. Does he, when you are housekeeper, invite company without -informing you of it, or bring home with him a friend? Whatever may be -your repast, however scanty it may be, however impossible it may be to -add to it, receive them with a pleasing countenance, adorn your table -with cheerfulness, give to your husband and to your company a hearty -welcome; it will more than compensate for every other deficiency; it -will evince love for your husband, good sense in yourself, and that -politeness of manners, which acts as the most powerful charm! It will -give to the plainest fare a zest superior to all that luxury can boast. -Never be discontented on any occasion of this nature.</p> - -<p>In the next place, as your husband's success in his profession will -depend upon his popularity, and as the manners of a wife have no little -influence in extending or lessening the respect and esteem of others -for her husband, you should take care to be affable and polite to the -poorest as well as to the richest. A reserved haughtiness is a sure -indication of a weak mind and an unfeeling heart.</p> - -<p>With respect to your servants, teach them to respect and love you, -while you expect from them a reasonable discharge of their respective -duties. Never tease yourself, or them, by scolding; it has no other -effect than to render them discontented and impertinent. Admonish them -with a calm firmness.</p> - -<p>Cultivate your mind by the perusal of those books which instruct while -they amuse. Do not devote much of your time to novels; there are a few -which may be useful in improving and in giving a higher tone to our -moral sensibility; but they tend to vitiate the taste, and to produce a -disrelish for substantial intellectual food. Most plays are of the same -cast; they are not friendly to the delicacy which is one of the -ornaments of the female character. H<small>ISTORY</small>, -G<small>EOGRAPHY</small>, P<small>OETRY</small>, M<small>ORAL</small> -E<small>SSAYS</small>, B<small>IOGRAPHY</small>, T<small>RAVELS</small>, -S<small>ERMONS</small>, and other well written religious -productions, will not fail to enlarge your understanding, to render you -a more agreeable companion, and to exalt your virtue. A woman devoid of -rational ideas of religion, has no security for her virtue; it is -sacrificed to her passions, whose voice, not that of G<small>OD</small>, is her only -governing principle. Besides, in those hours of calamity to which -families must be exposed, where will she find support, if it be not in -her just reflections upon that all ruling Providence which governs the -Universe, whether animate or inanimate.</p> - -<p>Mutual politeness between the most intimate friends, is essential to -that harmony, which should never be once broken or interrupted. How -important then is it between man and wife!—The more warm the -attachment, the less will either party bear to be slighted, or treated -with the smallest degree of rudeness or inattention. This politeness, -then, if it be not in itself a virtue, is at least the means of giving -to real goodness a new lustre; it is the means of preventing -discontent, and even quarrels; it is the oil of intercourse, it removes -asperities, and gives to every thing a smooth, an even, and a pleasing -movement.</p> - -<p>I will only add, that matrimonial happiness does not depend upon -wealth; no, it is not to be found in wealth; but in minds properly -tempered and united to our respective situations. Competency is -necessary; all beyond that point, is ideal. Do not suppose, however, -that I would not advise your husband to augment his property by all -honest and commendable means. I would wish to see him actively engaged -in such a pursuit, because engagement, a sedulous employment, in -obtaining some laudable end, is essential to happiness. In the -attainment of a fortune, by honorable means, and particularly by -professional exertion, a man derives particular satisfaction, in self -applause, as well as from the increasing estimation in which he is held -by those around him.</p> - -<p>In the management of your domestic concerns, let prudence and wise -economy prevail. Let neatness, order and judgment be seen in all your -different departments. Unite liberality with a just frugality; always -reserve something for the hand of charity; and never let your door be -closed to the voice of suffering humanity. Your servants, in -particular, will have the strongest claim upon your charity;—let them -be well fed, well clothed, nursed in sickness, and never let them be -unjustly treated.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect46"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h3>ORIGINAL LITERARY NOTICES.</h3> -<br> -<blockquote><small>VATHEK—An Oriental Tale, by Mr. Beckford, author of Italy, &c. -Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard. 1834.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<p>The publishers of this <i>fashionable</i> romance, by way of smoothing its -path to general reception and favor, have attached to the title page -various opinions expressed by English journalists,—to wit: The -<i>Quarterly Review</i> says, "a very remarkable performance. It continues -in possession of all the celebrity it once commanded." The "<i>Printing -Machine</i>" (a paper we presume of that name) says, "As an Eastern story, -we know nothing produced by an European imagination that can stand a -comparison with this work." The <i>Morning Post</i> exclaims, "The finest -Oriental tale extant!" and the "<i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>," pronounces it -"a creation of genius that would immortalize its author at any time, -and under any taste." These are very imposing authorities, and -superadded to them all, it is said that Mr. Beckford is now living, is -one of the richest men in England, and occupies so high a rank in -social life, that royalty itself has been known to court his society. -Nor is this all. Lord Byron pronounced "Vathek" to be a most surpassing -production—far superior as an Eastern tale, to the "Rassalais" of -Johnson,—and whatever has been said by Lord Byron, especially in -matters of taste, will pass with some persons as incontrovertible -orthodoxy. We have not examined particularly to ascertain what our own -critics have said on the subject; but we believe that some of them at -least, have echoed the plaudits of the British periodicals. Be this as -it may, we happen to have an honest opinion of our own, and we must -say, in our poor judgment, that a more impure, disgusting, and -execrable production, than this same "Vathek," never issued from the -English or American press. That the author was a youth of extraordinary -genius, is acknowledged; (he wrote before twenty years of age)—but it -was genius totally perverted and poisoned at its source. The work could -have been written by no one whose heart was not polluted at its very -core. Obscene and blasphemous in the highest degree, its shocking -pictures are in no wise redeemed by the beauty and simplicity of -Oriental fiction. We should pronounce it, without knowing any thing of -Mr. Beckford's character, to be the production of a sensualist and an -infidel—one who could riot in the most abhorred and depraved -conceptions—and whose prolific fancy preferred as its repast all that -was diabolical and monstrous, rather than what was beautiful and good. -We shall not even attempt a detailed account of this volume—but when -such works are recommended to public favor, we think it is time that -criticism should brandish its rod, and that the genius of morality—if -there be such a spirit in our land—should frown down the effort.</p> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="50"><a name="sect47"></a> -<br> -<blockquote><small>LEISURE HOURS, or the American Popular Library; conducted by an -Association of Gentlemen. Boston: <i>John Allen & Co.</i> 1835.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<p>Here is another contribution to the constantly increasing store of -popular literature. If the present generation does not surpass all its -predecessors in the acquisition of knowledge in its various forms, it -will not be from any deficiency of intellectual food. In England, the -Family Library, the Libraries of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge, the -Penny Magazine, and innumerable other productions of the same class, -are employed to diffuse through every portion of society, sound and -valuable instruction; and many of these excellent publications are not -only reprinted in the United States, but the time is not distant when -we may justly boast of others of entirely domestic origin. The work -before us seems to have been commenced under favorable auspices, and -with laudable objects. The editors in their advertisement, which we -quote at length for the benefit of our readers,</p> - -<blockquote><small>"propose to publish, at -convenient intervals, a series of volumes of standard merit, calculated -to interest and instruct every class of the community. Although they -have chosen for the title of the series, the name of the American -Popular Library, it is not to be understood that it is to consist -wholly, or even principally, of American works. Nor, on the other hand, -will any work, however popular, be introduced into the series, unless, -in the opinion of the editors, it shall possess such a character as -will secure to it a continued reputation, after it shall have ceased to -interest by its novelty. In their selections they do not propose to be -limited to any one class of works, but to include such books in each -department, as shall appear to them to be most deserving of a place in -the library of an enlightened christian family.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"It seems to them important, that the attention of our reading -community should be turned to works of more <i>permanent</i> value, than -belongs to most of the periodical literature of the day, or at least -that it should not be confined exclusively to works of only a temporary -interest. The spirit of the times appears also to demand, that the -separation, which has too often been made between elegant literature -and pure christianity, should cease to exist, and that a christian -literature should take the place of that, which has, in many cases, -begun and ended in infidelity. It is the design of the editors of this -publication to promote, so far as shall be in their power, the union of -polite literature, sound learning and christian morals. Beyond this -they do not suppose it necessary that they should pledge themselves to -the public. A sufficient security for their patrons seems to be -provided, in leaving it optional with the purchaser to take only such -part of the series as he may choose.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"It is intended that a volume of nearly uniform size shall be issued -every two or three months, or in such a manner that four or five -volumes shall appear annually."</small></blockquote> -<a name="sect48"></a> -<p>As a specimen of the work, we select at random the following story of</p> - -<h5>MY TWO AUNTS.</h5> - -<blockquote><small>Philosophers tell us that we know nothing but from its opposite; then I -certainly know my two aunts very perfectly, for greater opposites were -never made since the formation of light and darkness; but they were -both good creatures—so are light and darkness both good things in -their place. My two aunts, however, were not so appropriately to be -compared to light and darkness as to crumb and crust—the crumb and -crust of a new loaf; the crumb of which is marvellously soft, and the -crust of which is exceedingly crisp, dry and snappish. The one was my -father's sister, and the other was my mother's; and very curiously it -happened that they were both named Bridget. To distinguish between -them, we young folks used to call the quiet and easy one aunt Bridget, -and the bustling, worrying one, aunt Fidget. You never, in the whole -course of your life, saw such a quiet, easy, comfortable creature as -aunt Bridget—she was not immoderately large, but prodigiously fat. Her -weight did not exceed twenty stone, or two-and-twenty at the -utmost—but she might be called prodigiously fat, because she was all -fat; I don't think there was an ounce of lean in her whole composition. -She was so imperturbably good natured, that I really do not believe -that she was ever in a passion in the whole course of her life. I have -no doubt that she had her troubles: we all have troubles, more or less; -but aunt Bridget did not like to trouble herself to complain. The -greatest trouble that she endured, was the alternation of day and -night: it was a trouble to her to go up stairs to bed, and it was a -trouble to her to come down stairs to breakfast; but, when she was once -in bed, she could sleep ten hours without dreaming; and when she was -once up, and seated in her comfortable arm-chair, by the fireside, with -her knitting apparatus in order, and a nice, fat, flat, comfortable -quarto volume on a small table at her side, the leaves of which volume -she could turn over with her knitting needle, she was happy for the -day: the grief of getting up was forgotten, and the trouble of getting -to bed was not anticipated. Knowing her aversion to moving, I was once -saucy enough to recommend her to make two days into one, that she might -not have the trouble of going up and down stairs so often. Any body but -aunt Bridget would have boxed my ears for my impertinence, and would, -in so doing, have served me rightly; but she, good creature, took it -all in good part, and said, "Yes, my dear, it would save trouble, but I -am afraid it would not be good for my health—I should not have -exercise enough." Aunt Bridget loved quiet, and she lived in the -quietest place in the world. There is not a spot in the deserts of -Arabia, or in the Frozen Ocean, to be for a moment compared for -quietness with Hans-place—</small></blockquote> - -<center><small>"The very houses seem asleep;"</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>and when the bawlers of milk, mackerel, dabs, and flounders, enter the -placid precincts of that place, they scream with a subdued violence, -like the hautboy played with a piece of cotton in the bell. You might -almost fancy that oval of building to be some mysterious egg, on which -the genius of silence had sat brooding ever since the creation of the -world, or even before Chaos had combed its head and washed its face. -There is in that place a silence that may be heard, a delicious -stillness which the ear drinks in as greedily as the late Mr. Dando -used to gulp oysters. It is said that, when the inhabitants are all -asleep, they can hear one another snore. Here dwelt my aunt -Bridget—kindest of the kind, and quietest of the quiet. But good -nature is terribly imposed upon in this wicked world of ours; and so it -was with aunt Bridget. Her poulterer, I am sure, used to charge her at -least ten per cent. more than any of the rest of his customers, because -she never found fault. She was particularly fond of ducks, very likely -from a sympathy with their quiet style of locomotion; but she disliked -haggling about the price, and she abhorred the trouble of choosing -them; so she left it to the man's conscience to send what he pleased, -and to charge what he pleased. I declare that I have seen upon her -table such withered, wizened, toad-like villains of half-starved ducks, -that they looked as if they had died of the whooping-cough. And if ever -I happened to say any thing approaching to reproach of the poulterer, -aunt would always make the same reply,—"I don't like to be always -finding fault." It was the same with her wine as it was with her -poultry: she used to fancy that she had Port and Sherry; but she never -had any thing better than Pontac and Cape Madeira. There was one luxury -of female life which my aunt never enjoyed—she never had the pleasure -of scolding the maids. She once made the attempt, but it did not -succeed. She had a splendid set of Sunday crockery, done in blue and -gold; and, by the carelessness of one of her maids, the whole service -was smashed at one fell swoop. "Now, that is too bad," said my aunt; "I -really will tell her of it." So I was in hopes of seeing aunt Bridget -in a passion, which would have been as rare a sight as an American aloe -in blossom. She rang the bell with most heroic vigor, and with an -expression of almost a determination to say something very severe to -Betty, when she should make her appearance. Indeed, if the bell-pull -had been Betty, she might have heard half the first sentence of a -terrible scolding; but before Betty could answer the summons of the -bell, my aunt was as cool as a turbot at a tavern dinner. "Betty," said -she, "are they all broke?" "Yes, ma'am," said Betty. "How came you to -break them?" said my aunt. "They slipped off the tray, ma'am," replied -Betty. "Well, then, be more careful another time," said my aunt. "Yes, -ma'am," said Betty.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Next morning, another set was ordered. This was not the first, second, -or third time that my aunt's crockery had come to an untimely end. My -aunt's maids had a rare place in her service. They had high life below -stairs in perfection; people used to wonder that she did not see how -she was imposed upon: bless her old heart! she never liked to see what -she did not like to see—and so long as she could be quiet she was -happy. She was a living emblem of the Pacific Ocean.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>But my aunt Fidget was quite another thing. She only resembled my aunt -Bridget in one particular; that is, she had not an ounce of lean about -her; but then she had no fat neither—she was all skin and bone; I -cannot say for a certainty, but I really believe, that she had no -marrow in her bones: she was as light as a feather, as dry as a stick, -and, had it not been for her pattens, she must have been blown away in -windy weather. As for quiet, she knew not the meaning of the word: she -was flying about from morning till night, like a fagot in fits, and -finding fault with every body and every thing. Her tongue and her toes -had no sinecures. Had she weighed as many pounds as my aunt Bridget -weighed stones, she would have worn out half-a-dozen pair of shoes in a -week. I don't believe that aunt Bridget ever saw the inside of her -kitchen, or that she knew exactly where it was; but aunt Fidget was in -all parts of the house at once—she saw every thing, heard every thing, -remembered every thing, and scolded about every thing. She was not to -be imposed upon, either by servants or trades-people. She kept a sharp -look out upon them all. She knew when and where to go to market. Keen -was her eye for the turn of the scale, and she took pretty good care -that the butcher should not dab his mutton chops too hastily in the -scale, making momentum tell for weight. I cannot think what she wanted -with meat, for she looked as if she ate nothing but raspings, and drank -nothing but vinegar. Her love of justice in the matter of purchasing -was so great, that when her fishmonger sent her home a pennyworth of -sprats, she sent one back to be changed because it had but one eye.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>She had such a strict inventory of all her goods and chattels, that, if -any one plundered her of a pin, she was sure to find it out. She would -miss a pea out of a peck; and she once kept her establishment up half -the night to hunt for a bit of cheese that was missing—it was at last -found in the mouse-trap. "You extravagant minx," said she to the maid, -"here is cheese enough to bait three mouse-traps;" and she nearly had -her fingers snapped off in her haste to rescue the cheese from its -prison. I used not to dine with my aunt Fidget so often as with my aunt -Bridget, for my aunt Fidget worried my very life out with the history -of every article that was brought to table. She made me undergo the -narration of all that she had said, and all that the butcher or -poulterer had said, concerning the purchase of the provision; and she -used always to tell me what was the price of mutton when her mother was -a girl—two pence a pound for the common pieces, and twopence-halfpenny -for the prime pieces. Moreover, she always entertained me with an -account of all her troubles, and with the sins and iniquities of her -abominable servants, whom she generally changed once a month. Indeed, -had I been inclined to indulge her with more of my company, I could not -always manage to find her residence; for she was moving about from -place to place, so that it was like playing a game of hunt the slipper -to endeavor to find her. She once actually threatened to leave London -altogether, if she could not find some more agreeable residence than -hitherto it had been her lot to meet with. But there was one evil in my -aunt Fidget's behavior, which disturbed me more than any thing else; -she was always expecting that I should join her in abusing my placid -aunt Bridget. Aunt Bridget's style of house-keeping was not, perhaps, -quite the pink of perfection, but it was not for me to find fault with -it; and if she did sit still all day, she never found fault with those -who did not; she never said any thing evil of any of her neighbors. -Aunt Fidget might be flying about all day like a witch upon a -broomstick; but aunt Bridget made no remarks on it; she let her fly. -The very sight of aunt Fidget was enough to put one out of breath—she -whisked about from place to place at such a rapid rate, always talking -at the rate of nineteen to the dozen. We boys used to say of her that -she never sat long enough in a chair to warm the cover. But she is -gone—<i>requiescat in pace;</i><small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> -and that is more than ever she did in her life-time.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> May she rest in peace.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect49"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>EDITORIAL REMARKS.</h4> -<br> -<p>In presenting the fourth number of the "Messenger" to the public, we -are gratified in announcing the continued support of our friends and -correspondents, and the increasing ardor with which the work is -patronized. Far more to the great cause of southern literature, than to -our own humble efforts, is it owing that we are encouraged from a -variety of quarters to persevere in our labors; and our generous well -wishers may rely, that we are not disposed to look back or falter in -our course,—borne as we are upon the "full tide of successful -experiment." Let but our friends continue to take an interest in our -cause, and this work will soon be placed beyond contingent evils. It -will become the arena, where southern minds especially, may meet in -honorable collision; and when we say <i>southern</i> minds, let us not be -understood as slighting or undervaluing the rich and valuable aid which -we hope to receive from our northern and eastern brethren. Far from it. -We desire to emulate their own noble efforts in behalf of American -literature, and to stir up our more languid countrymen, to imitate -their industry, and to hope for their success.</p> - -<p>The rights and duties of the editorial chair, especially in the infancy -of a literary work, are extremely delicate. Taste is so subtle, -variable and uncertain a quality, that, for an editor to establish his -own, as a fixed and immutable standard—would seem invidious, if not -absolutely odious. On the other hand, some judgment and discrimination -must be exercised, or the consequences might be still more injurious. -The indiscriminate admission of <i>all</i> pretenders, would be disparaging -and unjust to those whose claims are unquestionable. The true view of -the subject we take to be this—not to exclude all contributions which -do not display a high degree of merit—especially if their authors are -young and evince a desire to excel. One object of a work like the -"Messenger," is to <i>improve</i> the exercise of thought and the habit of -composition. A literary novice, when he sees himself in print, and -contrasts his productions with those of more mature minds and more -practised hands, will rouse himself to greater effort. It may encourage -and stimulate him to more decided and brilliant exertion. Fine writing -is not the acquisition of a day or a year; it requires, in order to the -full attainment of success,—long, continued and unwearied application.</p> - -<p>We make these remarks, because we are not entirely satisfied ourselves, -with <i>all</i> the articles either in prose or verse, admitted into the -present number. We did not think, however, that any of them deserved -exclusion. In some of those which are published, may be perceived -undoubted indications of genius,—and in the rest, evidences of high -capacity to excel.</p> - -<p>In noticing some of the pieces, we hope it will not be supposed that we -pass sentence of inferiority upon such as we omit to mention. Our -object is to ask the particular attention of the reader to those which -have afforded us peculiar pleasure.</p> - -<p>It is with unalloyed satisfaction, that we continue the very able and -interesting account of "<i>Tripoli and the Barbary States</i>." The author -has thrown around authentic narrative, all the charms of romance; and -we perfectly agree with a contemporary editor in this city, that he has -reached in a very high degree the interest and dignity of the true -historic style.</p> - -<p>The description of <i>Howard's Bottom</i>, under the head of "<i>Western -Scenery</i>," will be at once recognized as the production of a practised -and polished pen.</p> - -<p>If the "<i>Hints to Students of Geology</i>," by an able proficient in the -science, shall serve to stimulate the languor which prevails in -Virginia on that subject, we shall be more than gratified.</p> - -<p>In the "<i>March of Intellect</i>," by V, there is a singular mixture of the -serious and comic—of truth and caricature—which may not perhaps be -agreeable to all readers. All, however, will concede to the author, -vigor and fertility of mind,—with much of the "<i>copia verborum</i>" in -style. We should have taken the liberty to apply the pruning knife to -the luxuriant foliage of the "<i>Seasons</i>," from the same pen,—had we -not feared doing some injury to the fruit. The author has only to -cultivate his fine talents, in order to attain a high rank in the art -of composition.</p> - -<p>There is a good deal of humor in the description of a Virginia "<i>Fourth -of July</i>,"—and we hope the writer will repeat his effort. In the local -and distinctive traits of our national manners, there is a wide field -for the pencil.</p> - -<p>With the "<i>Essay on Luxury</i>," by B. B. B. H. we have taken some -liberties, and crave his indulgence if we have been too free. Sometimes -the finest thoughts and strongest reasoning, suffer injustice by -inattention to style.</p> - -<p>The author of "<i>Eloquence</i>" has our earnest exhortations to press on in -the path which leads to renown. If we mistake not, he is actuated by -the noble ambition to acquire distinction.</p> - -<p>The "<i>Valedictory in July 1829</i>," now for the first time published, -will command attention for the excellence of its precepts and doctrines -upon the all important subject of female education. No one could be -better qualified than the author, to enforce serious truths in a -graceful and agreeable manner.</p> - -<p>We beg the reader's particular attention to the original tale of -"<i>Uncle Simon and the Mechanician</i>." The author's admirable sketches -derive additional value from the fact that they are not the mere -creations of fancy, but exact copies from nature.</p> - -<p>Some of our readers may perhaps complain, that more than a due -proportion of the present number is devoted to the Muses. It may be so; -but our apology is, that some of the pieces have been so long on hand, -that to delay their publication would almost amount to exclusion. If -all the poetry is not of equal quality, there is still enough which is -excellent; enough to demonstrate beyond all question, that if our Bards -would only take courage, and rise superior to the fear of foreign -rivalry, the highest success would crown their efforts. Among the -pieces which have afforded us more than ordinary pleasure, we may be -allowed to enumerate the "<i>Peasant-Women of the Canaries</i>," "<i>The -Heart</i>," and that which we have taken the liberty to designate by the -title of "<i>True Consolation</i>." The oftener that we read these, the more -we like them; but we shall restrain the ardor of our own feelings, lest -our readers should suppose we indulge the presumptuous thought of -influencing their judgments.</p> - -<p>It is with real pleasure that we insert two productions from the pen of -the <i>Hon. R. H. Wilde</i>. These would be enough of themselves to disprove -the charge of plagiarism preferred against that gentleman during the -Georgia election, in respect to the charming lines which appeared in -our first number, and which we stated were generally ascribed to him. -It is to us passing strange, that the sacred repose of the republic of -letters, should be disturbed by the agitations and conflicts of party -politics. Notwithstanding that the authorship of "<i>My Life is like the -Summer Rose</i>," has been confidently claimed by some for O'Kelly, an -Irish poet,—and by others for an ancient Greek bard named Alceus, we -still adhere to the opinion that that beautiful effusion is the bona -fide and genuine offspring of Mr. Wilde's muse. Upon this subject, -however, we shall reserve a more particular expression of our -sentiments for a future number.</p> - -<p>We have already expressed our opinion of the bards of Mobile and -Tuscaloosa. May we not expect a continuance of their favors?</p> - -<p>The humorous "<i>Parody on Bryant's Autumn</i>," or rather on his piece -called the "<i>Death of the Flowers</i>," will strike every one acquainted -with the productions of the New York bard, as an admirable imitation of -his style. It is the more excellent, as Bryant's sombre imagery has -been made to assume a light and sportive dress.</p> - -<p>We could say much in commendation of many of our other poetical -contributors, if it were not somewhat improper to invade too much the -province of our readers. We hope, therefore, that they will not for a -moment believe that we slight or undervalue their favors.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect50"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF CORRESPONDENTS.</h4> - -<h5>FROM AN EMINENT LITERARY GENTLEMAN, NOW A RESIDENT OF LOUISIANA.</h5> - -<blockquote>"I am domiciliated in the south for the residue of my days; and so far -as residence, pursuit, and the home of those most dear to me may be -supposed to impress local preferences, I am and long have been a -southern man. But we all love our dear common country better than all -that belongs to district and climate; and so loving my country, and so -being proud of its best fame and honor, its literary advancement, I was -decidedly pleased with your periodical. The writing, the printing, <i>the -revision of the proofs</i>, the <i>ensemble</i>, are all unquestionably -creditable to you. I am too old and too much hackneyed in the style of -periodicals to compliment. The Richmond Messenger gives respectable -promise. Periodicals have to me a kind of physiognomy. Some look sickly -and death-doomed from their birth. Yours give signs of a vigorous and -healthful vitality. May it live long and prosper."</blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<h5>FROM A DISTINGUISHED LITERARY LADY IN NEW YORK.</h5> - -<blockquote>"I owe you a very humble apology for not having earlier acknowledged -your first communication and the receipt of the first number of your -work, which you were so kind as to send me. I was absent on a very long -journey when they reached my residence, and then my reply fell into the -ever open grave of deferred duties. I have since been gratified to hear -from various sources that your enterprise was succeeding. It could -hardly be otherwise, if you could once rouse the minds in your -beautiful state, where inspiring subjects every where abound. Your -request is very flattering to me, and I should most willingly comply -with it, but that I have at present more work on my hands than I have -energy to accomplish. At some future time, should you continue to -desire my services, it will give me pleasure to render them."</blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<h5>FROM EASTERN VIRGINIA.</h5> - -<blockquote><small>[A correspondent from whom we have received many favors, indulges in -the following sportive strain. So far from being willing that he should -"<i>sail before the mast</i>," we would rather see him take rank as <small>OUR</small> P<small>OST</small> -C<small>APTAIN</small>.]</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote>"I sincerely rejoice in the success thus far of your undertaking, and -trust you have now been sustained long enough to give time to abler men -to come to your assistance. I wish you a good crew and a pleasant -voyage for your little frigate. I shall still occasionally sail with -you before the mast as a common sailor, until somebody gives me the -cat-o'-nine-tails, and then perhaps I shall stay at home and mind my -business, which is <i>clodhopping</i>, and which is perhaps more suitable -than the occupation I have lately been following."</blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="50"> - -<blockquote>"To read your paper is the <i>only one thing needful</i> to enlarge its -circulation, to attract the attention, and to gain the affections of -the reading part of the community. It is a work peculiarly interesting -to southern literature, as its appeals are direct to the love of -letters, to the generous pride, and to the chivalric patriotism of -southerners. The monotonous sound of politics cannot but be -disgusting."</blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect51"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS TO CONTRIBUTORS, CORRESPONDENTS, &<small>C</small>.</h4> -<br> -<p>We tender our thanks to the editor of the <i>Farmer's Register</i> for -setting us right in respect to Mr. Peter A. Browne's letter on the -mineral resources of Virginia. The republication of that letter in the -Register had escaped our recollection entirely. We shall be much -gratified in having the able co-operation of Mr. Ruffin upon a subject -we have much at heart, to wit: a geological and mineralogical survey of -the state. When the legislature shall have settled the exact limits of -federal power, and the precise boundaries of state rights—if indeed -these things can be done in our time—or when we shall have laid the -broad and permanent foundation of a system of internal improvement,—we -hope then at least to see Virginia treading in the paths of other -states, and turning her attention to her own vast, and in some -respects, hidden resources.</p> - -<p>We owe a similar acknowledgement to Mr. Fairfield, editor of the North -American Magazine, who informs us that Mr. Browne's letter also -appeared in one of his numbers, but which in like manner escaped our notice.</p> - -<p>The "<i>Remarks Delivered to the Law Class at William and Mary</i>," upon a -subject deeply interesting to the south, shall appear in our next number.</p> - -<p>The "<i>Letters from a Sister</i>," we have only had opportunity to glance -at. We have no doubt that they will furnish a rich store for the -entertainment of our readers.</p> - -<p>The <i>Selections from the Manuscripts of Mrs. Wood</i>, are reluctantly but -unavoidably excluded from the present number, but shall certainly -appear in our next.</p> - -<p>We have on hand a variety of poetical contributions, from which we -shall cull liberally for our pages. As some literary appetites however, -are cloyed by too many dainties, we must be somewhat particular in the -arrangement of our table.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"> -<p> </p> -<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Illustration1"> - <tr> - <td width="38"> - <img src="images/pointer.jpg" alt="pointer"> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p>The <i>Publisher</i> offers an apology to his patrons for the delay in the -publication of the present number. The close of the year being, by -common consent, a season of holiday recreation rather than of business, -all just allowances will be made. He promises (always excepting -unforeseen accidents and contingencies) to be more punctual hereafter. -It is his desire to issue the Messenger, if possible, regularly between -the 20th and last day of each month. Contributors ought to be governed -accordingly. He tenders the compliments of the season to his patrons.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. -I., No. 4, December, 1834, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, DEC. 1834 *** - -***** This file should be named 53753-h.htm or 53753-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/5/53753/ - -Produced by Ron Swanson -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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