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Brunstoicb hh o c ate. DAVIS & SHORT, PUBLISHERS. VOLUME X. The MSransivicli Advocate, Is published every Thursday Morning, in the city of Brunswick, Glynn County. Georgia, at ts'.i per annum, in ailcauce, or ,S-1 at - the end pf the year. No subscriptions received for a less term than six months anil no paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the nblishers. XJ’All letters and communications to the llditor or Publishers in relation to the paper, must be POSTPAID to ensure attention. ji ’ A DVERTISE AIE NTS conspicuously in serted at One Doi.i. vi: per one hundred words, fiu the first insertion, and Fim Cents for ev ery subsequent continuance —Rule and figure work always double price. Twenty-live per cent, added, if not paid in advance, or during the continuance of the advertisement. Those sent without a specification of the number ol insertions will be published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. Legal Advertisements published at the usual rates. niy.V 15. Sales of Land, by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the alternoon, at the Court-house in the enuntv in which the property is situate.— Notice of these sales must, be given in a public gazette, Sixty Days previous to the day ot sale. Sales of Negroes must he at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hull's of sale, at. the place o! public salt s in the county where tile letters testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving sixty nils notice tlmreof, in one ol the public gazettes ni tnis State, a ml at the door of the Court-house, where such sales are to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property, must he given in like niauner, I oiity days previous to the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of ail Es tate must he published for I’nn y days. Notice that application will he made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must lie published for Four .Months. Notice for leave to sell Ni:gi:oi:». must he published li.r Fort: Months, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. BlooKs al \\;rALi)li:S LITERARY OMNIBUS— \ \ A'orcl anil lm>n.rtant LitcruruEutcrprizr! Xorrls. 'i\ilif. Hingrupliif, I 'nijiiges, Triml«, licrii ws. mill t . 11 c.n of tin /Joif. It was one of the "aval objects ot "\\ alilie s Library, ‘•to make g< ml reading cheupt r, and to bring Literature to every man’s door. This object has been accomplished ; we have given to hooks wings, and they have tlovrn to the up permost parts of m-.r vast contim nt, carrying society to iho secluded, occupation to the lite rary. information to all. Me now propose still further to ivdu< e priei s, and render the access to a literary banquet, more than t\.o fold ac cessible j we gave, and shall continue to give. in the quarto library, a volume weekly tor two cents a day ; we now propose to give a volume, in the same period, ior lies than Jour rents n trr.rl;. and to add. as a piquant seasoning to the dish, a lew columns of shorter literary matters, and a siin«(fary of the news and events ot the day. \Ve know, by experience and calcula tion. can go still further in the matter of reduction, and we feel, that there is still verge enough for us to aim at eliermg to an increasing literary appetite, that mental food which it craves. The Select Circulating Library, now as ever so great a favorite, will continue to make its weekly visits, and to be issued in a tprui for binding and preservation, and its price and form will remain the same. Rut we shall, in the first week of January. I "'IT. issue a huge sheet, of the size of the largest newspapers of America, but on very superior paper, also.Jtll nt with hooka, of the newest and most entertain ing, though, in their several departin' nts ol Novels, Tales, Voyages,Travels. Ac., select in their character, joined with leading, such as ahooltl fill a weekly newspaper. By this nielu od, we hope to accomplish a great good : tot n livon and enlighten the family circle, and to give to it. at at expense which Minll be no con sideration to aur.n mass of reading, that, in hook form, would alarm the pockets ot the pru denta and to do it in a manner that the most sceptical shall acknowledge l - the power <>i concentration can no farther go. No hook, which appears in Wa.ldie s Quarto Library, will be published in the Omnibus, which will be an entirely distinct periodical. Terms. W.ahlie's Literary Omnibus, will be issued every Friday morning, printed on pa per of a quality superior to any other weekly sheet, and of the largest size. It will contain, Ist. Hooks, tin' newest and the best that can be procured, equal every week, to a London duodecimo volume, embracing' Novels, Travels. Memoirs, etc., anil ou!tj cltargiuble with J\cwa jiuiwr postage. oj. Literary reviews, tales, sketches, notices ol'hooks, and information from “the world of letters,” of every description. '.ld. The news of ti e week, concentrated into a small compass, but in a suliicient amount to embrace a knowledge of the principal events, political and miscellaneous, of Europe and A mrrica. The price will he TWO DOLLARS to clubs of five subscribers, where the paper is forward ed to one address. Tin* clubs of two individ uals. FIVE DOLLARS ; single mail subscrib ers. Til RLE DOLLARS. The discount on uncurrenl money will be charged to the remit ter', the low price and superior paper,absolute ly prohibit paying a discount. XT’ On nn condition will o copy crcr be sent, until the jiayiiicnt is rca ici and in udcunec. As the arrangements for the prosecution of this great literary undertaking, are all made, and the proprietor has redeemed all his pledges to a generous public for many years, no fear ol non-fulfilment of the contract can be felt. Tile Omnibus will lie regularly issued, and will contain, in a year, reading matter equal in a- i mount to two volumes of Rees' Cyclopedia, for the small sum mentioned above. Address (post paid,) ADAM WALD!E, I 4t> Carpenter street, Philadelphia. XT Editors throughout the Union and Cana da, will confer a favor, by giving the above one or more conspicuous insertions, and accepting the work for a year as compensation. BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, THURSDAY IVEORNXjVG, DECEMBER 21, 1837. i* o i: t is i . WHEN TO WOO. BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT. Dost thou idly ask to hear At what gentle seasons Nymphs relent, when lovers near Press the tenderest reasons ! All I they give their faith too oft To tin l careless wooer ; Maiden’s hearts are always soft, Would that men's were truer ! Woo the fair one when around Early birds are singino-; When o'er all the fragrant ground, Early herbs are springing ; When the brookside, bank and grove, All with blossoms laden, Shine with beauty, breath of love— Woo the timid maiden. Woo her when, with rosy blush, Summer eve is sinking— When, on rilL that softly gush, Stars are sofly winking; When, through boughs that knit the bower, Moonlight gleams are stealing, Woo her, till the gentle hour Wakes a gentler feeling. Wnu her when autumnal dees Ting • the woody mountain ; When tie* dropping foliage lies In the half choaked fountain ; Let. the scene, that tells how fast A until is passing over, Warn her ere her bloom is past, To secure her lover. Woo her w hen the north winds cull At the lattice night!v ; When, within the cheerful hall, R! ize the faggots brightly ; When the wintry tempest round Sweeps the landscape hoary Sweeter in her ear shall sound, Love’s delightful story. is is i s: iz fj %x v. | Extract from Mr. Dewey’s discourse | BEFOJtE THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE. Mr , President, end Gentlemen of the Institute : |We have cone together Ibis evening, to cele brate in ■ great and noble arts of in*lit .-try. I icannot say, the humble arts, in deference I to popular i>lii'a.-eii!o;ry ; the splendid spectacle jof your Annual Fair, would rebuke me if I j did so. 1 confess tad: it has given me new ideas of wliat iiii'ii try can do—of what mind j could do w ith matter. As l have stood in your l magnificence—descriptions from the mirgeou ! page of Milton, have been in mv thoughts, j Aml yet. ‘the wealth of Orudis or the Ind,’ ‘har dline pearls and gold," could off r nothing so gratifying to the eye of patriotism, as that j splendid assemblage of flic products of mc ! clianie art. To one who had not. w itnessed i that spectacle, this might seem extravagant. ! Rut 1 am sure tint 1 should not do justice to i the feelings of Riom; who have seen it,without j speaking of it as I do. And w lien we rentem j her tin t it is hut two centuries, since the rude j savage wandered across this wooded island I all his weapons, tools and instruments togeth er, hut a tomahawk, a scalping knife, and ainm iters how—we pity lit imagine that the Genius l of Civilization had stretched out it ; wand, and ! conjured up this laity scene, to otibli-h her j triumph. llow characteristic is this spectacle, gentle men, of the times in which we live ! In oth or days, it vmild nave been the tournament, or I the fcasting'hnU, hung round with helmets and i swords, and the grim and shaggy trophies of : the chase. And, indeed, if we had fixed our eye first upon the upper end of that; hall, w o might have imagined that we wore w itnessing ; only the same thing, in higher perfection—en j Iv more gorgeous caparisons and trappings of I the war-horse, more polished, weapons, and more fatal instruments of death. But, ns we | look around us, we see other tokens—the pro ducts of the peaceful loom and planing tool, i carving and tape-try, works of equal util itv j mill beauty in iron, and marble, and glass, and | shining metals—comforts for home, and con veniences for travel—and books, in bindings j splendid enough to seduce the eye from tho- e attractive and ponderous ledgers, in which there is to be so much more profitable writing. We see, too, that the busy and delicate Inigl of woman has been here. Meanwhile, music, far other than that of the war-song, flings its notes over the gay scene, and all around us breathes of peace and prosperity. It is a char acteristic and striking exhibition of the arts that conduce to human improvement; and it is to some reflections hearing upon this point, that I wish, on toe present occasion, to invite the attention of this assembly. *«**»*#* TR&E NOBILITY OF LABOR. llow many natural ties are there between even the humblest scene of labor, and the noblest affections of hulnanity ! In tins view the ein- j plovment of mere muscular strength is enno-1 i hied. There is a central point in every mans i life,around which all his toils and cares revolve, ilt is that spot which is consecrated by the ' names of wife, and children, and home. A se | crct, an almost an imperceptible influence from that spot, which is like no other on the earth, steals into the breast of the virtuous laboring man, and strengthens every weary stop of Ins toil. Every blow that is struck in the work j shop and the field, finds an echo in that holy —brine of his affections. If he who fights to protect his home, rises to the point of heroic virtue, no less may he who labors,his lifelong, to provide for that home. Peace he within those domestic walls, and prosperity beneath j those humble roofs ! But should it ever be otherwise; should the time ever come when the invader’s step approaches to touch those sacred thresholds, T see in the labors that are taken for them, that wounds will he taken for i thorn too ; 1 see in every honest workman a rnuml me, a hero. So material do 1 deem this point—the true i nobility ol labor, I mean—ihat I would dwell i upon it a moment longer, and in a larger view. \\ by. then, i.i the great scale of things, is la bor ordained for us ? Easily, had it so pleas ed tho great Ord,liner, might it have been ini jimised with. The world itself might have been a mighty muchicnery for the production |of all that man wants. The motion of tho i globe upon its axis nugli have been the pow er, to move that world of machinery. Ten 1 thousand wheels within wheels might have I been at work' ; ten thousand processes, more | curious and complicated then man can devise. ' might have been going forward wit bout mail’s aid: houses might have risen like an cxiiala i tioii, With the sound Os dulcet symphonies and voices sweet. Built like a temple ; i gorgeous furniture might have been placed in ; them, r.nd soil couches and luxurious banquets I spiead, by hands nn-ecu ; and mail, clothed with fabrics of nature’s weaving, richer than j imperial purple, might, have keen seen to dis port him.'.dl'iii these Elysiaii palscy-. ‘Fair scene !’ 1 imagine you are saying ; ‘fortunate for us. had it been the scene ordain and for hu man life !’ But where then, tell me, had beer; j human energy, perseverance, patience, vir j tue, heroism p Cutoff with one blow fro ilii? world ; and mankind h id sunk ton crowd, nay. j far beneath a crowd of Asi:tie voliiptu. fie-. I No, it had not been fortunate. Better that the earth be given toman as a dark mass, where on to labor. Belter that rude a id unsightly materials be provided in the ore-bed and forest, for him to fashion into splendor and beauty.— | Bettor, I say, not because of that splendor and beauty, but because the act creating them is | hotter than the things themselves; because | exertion is nobler than enjoyment; because : the laborer is greater than and more worthy of honor than an idler. I call upon those whom I address, to stand up for that nobility of labor. It is heaven’s great ordinance for human im ■ provement- Let not that great ordinance he broken down. What no I say ? It is broken down; and it lots been broken down forages. Let it then be built tq> again; here if any where, on these shores of anew world, of a new civilization. But how, I may be a-ked. is 'it hro!; m down ? Do not men toil, it may be said. They do indeed toil, but they too gen erally do it because they must. M any submit to it ns, in some sort, a degrading neccssitv ; and they desire nothing so much on earth, as i escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the letter, lmt break it in spirit; fulfil it w ith the muscle, but break it with the mind. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of improvement. But so, is lie not. im pelled to do under the teachings of our im pel feet civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. Tins way of thinking is the her itage of the absurd and unjust feudal system: under which sects labored, and gentlemen : .-spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It ! is .ime that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed , of thy dingy work-shop and dusty labor-field : of tfiv hard hand, scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, mid.-t fire and steam, her own heraldic honors ? i Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and cu rt ions of the flaunting robes of imbecile iille | ness and vanity ? It is treason to nature; it is impiety to heaven; it is breaking heaven’s great ordinance. Toil, I repeat it —toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of tho hand, is the only true manhood, the only true no bility ! RELIGIONS TENDENCY OF MECHANIC ART. There is one further and final suggestion, which, at the risk of its being thought profes sional, I would not altogether omit in this sur vey of the moral tendencies of mechanic art.— Its leads the mind to the infinite wisdom of | nature, to the infinite wisdom of its Author. ‘ HEAR ME FOR MY CAUSE.” The materials, for instance, on which art is to work, —how wonderfully are they adapted to one another, and to the natural pow ers of the workman ! The steel is adapted to the wood it cuts—the water to the wheel it moves, and to the ship it bears—the plough to the soil it turns. Weight is ad justed to pow er. If the hammer weighed a hundred pounds, vainly would the hand strive to wield it. If the earth were covered with a forest of iron, man would labor in vain to cut it down and build it into houses. It an intelligent manufacturer or mechanic would carefully note down in a book all the instance of adaptation that presented them selves to lus attention, he would in time have a. large volume; and it* would be a volume of philosophy—a volume of indisputable facts in defence of a Providence. I could not help re marking lately, when I saw a furnace upon tlie stream of the valley,and the cartman bring ing down ore from tho mountains, how incon venient it would have been if this order of na ture lad been reversed; if the ore-bed hid been so constituted as to rise, and to make its ■ channel upon the tops of the ridges. Nay, more; treasures are slowly prepared and care fully laid up in the great store-houses of nature, ; against the time when man shall want them.— When the wood is cut off from the plains and i 1 the hills, and fuel begins to fail, and man looks about him with alarm at the prospect, lo! be neath his feel are found, in mines of bitumen and mountains of anthracite, the long hid trea sures of Providence—tho treasure-houses of that care and kimlne-s, which at every new step of human improvement, instead of appear ing to be superceded, seems doubly entitled to the name of Providence. Nature, too, is itself a world of mechanism; and it invites mechanic art at every step to ad mire that intelligent, and if I may say so, that congenial wi dom which is displayed in it. i The human body is a structure of art, fearful ly and wotuiderfully made. The hum in arm eml hand is a tool, an instrument! composed iof tv. ; n!y or thirty solid, separate parts, be • sides the cartilages, ligaments end nerves, that ■ give it its wonderful security, stronirih, and tact. What indefeasible cunning lies in that right hind ; nay, what latent cunning—every i new ye rof mechanic discovery developing it more and more—vhit latent cunning sleep in the sinews and nerves of that folded palm 1 And that curious rotary motion of the forearm u Int efforts of mechanic art have there been to imitate that skill of tho great M iker of our frame ! And again the human head—that dome of tho lieu ;c of life—is built upon the most perfect principles of that kind of structure: with iis thicker bones in the base of the skull, 1 like the solid masonry of a Roman arch : with its interior and supporting ridges of bone, like the flying buttresses of a Gothic cathedral. — Tho dome of St. Sophia, in Constantinople, built in tho time of the Emperor Justinian, fell three times during its erection: the dome of the Cathedral of Florence stood unfinished T2O years, for the want of an architect: and yet it it has been justly said, that every man employ : rd about them, had the model in bis own head, j All nature is not only, I repeat, a world of mechanism, but it is the work of infinite art: and the mechanic-inventor and toiler, is but a '-•trident, nn apprentice in that school. And when he has done all, what can he do to equal the skill of the great original he copies: to e qu and the wisdom of him w ho ‘has stretched out tho heavens like a curtain, who has laid the beams of his chambers on the waters!’ What j engines can he form, like those which raise up ! through the dark labyrinths of tho mountains, ! the streams that gush forth in fountains from ! j their summits ? What pillars, and v. liat nr-1 cliitecture can lie lift up on high, like the' mighty forest trunks, and their architrave and j frieze of glorious foliage? What dyes can he, invent,like those which spread their everchang- j iiignnd many-colored robe over the earth?— j *Wlial pictures can lie cause to glow, like those j which are painted on the dome of heaven ? It is the glory of art, tli it it penetrates and envelopes the wonders and bounties of nature, j It draws their richness from the valleys, and j their secret stores from tlie mountains. I* leads i forth every year, fairer flocks and herds upon j tho hills; it yokes the ox to the plough, and j trains the fiery steed to its car. It plants the I unsightly germ, and rears it into vegetable! beauty; it takes the dull ore and transfuses it! into splendor, or gives it the edge of the tool j opthe lancet; it gathers the filaments which ! nature has curiously made, and weaves them into soft and compact fabrics. It sends out its | •ships to discover unknown seas and shores ; i or it plunges into its work-shops at home, to! detect the secret, that is locked up in mineral,! or is flowing in liquid matter. It scans the i spheres and systems of heaven with its fair I sigiit; or turns with microscopic eye, and finds j in the drops that sparkle in the sun, other worlds crowded with lite. Yet more is me chanic art the handmaid of society. It has made man its special favorite. It clothes him with fine linnen and soft raiment It builds him houses, it kindles the cheerful fire, it lights tlia evening lamp, it spreads bafore him the J manifold page of wisdom; it delights his eye with gracefulness, it charms his ear w ith mu ; sic ; it multiplies the facilities of communica tion and the tie of brotherhood; it is the soft ' nor of all domestic charities, it is the bond of ! nations. Gentlemen of the American Institute! you ! need no commendation of mine ; your works j speak for you ; and I have oniy to wish, that ! they may advance in improvement and extend !in utility—an honor to yoursolves, and a bless ing to onr common country! [From the Boston I’ost.J IJULWEIt. The Post lately expressed my own sen timents with regard to this popular writer, i He is, perhaps, as you say, ‘‘unequalled in his apt and sententious remarks on hu man nature; —and these little apothegms ! constitule one ol tlie principal charms ofliis | novels, in which respect he soars far a- I hove Sir Walter Scott.” IJulwor has ; been a careful observer, lie lias also 1/17/ and experienced much. 11 is remarks are not merely from the head, from mem ory, from liooks. He does not repeat tho ! thoughts and expressions of preceding wri | tors. Every tiling comes fresh from the j heart, ot is the result of his own reflections ] This, every one who has Jett, who has j actually been in the situations he describes j must perceive as he reads. ‘‘lt comes | from the heart, and reaches the heart,” ias the ministers sav. Bulwer is also an I able gni<ru!i~ir. From numerous facts ! and observations lie deduces general prin ciples and axioms. He is thus an instruc tive, as well as mi entertaining writer. Ju tlie preface to “Multruvcrs,” he in timates, that those who like Itienzi and The last Days of Pompei, will not be pleased with his new work. Their char acteristic are a highly wrought extrav agance of character ami incident. His last novel is more quiet, and natural, and l pliilosopical. I did read Rieuzi, but was ' not greatly interested by it. The Pompei I have never read, but have merely tur ned over a few leaves of it. With his oilier works, I have been delighted : and wait with impatience for the completion of Ernest Maltravers. For the benefit of those who are fond |of such reading, 1 have noted the “ap | othegms,” and striking thoughts, which | most attracted my attention during the perusal. 1 now send you those taken from the first volume, and will soon fol low them by those from the second. Per haps that class of readers, who are to much interested in the stun/, to regard, at the time, the wise remarks with which it is intermingled, will attend to them and profit by them, in this detached form. REMARKABLE THOUGHTS. [From Bulwer's last novel, ‘•Earnest Mal travers. 'J “What do you teach the girl ?” asked 1 Maltravers of the schoolmaster. “That God made her, and that he loves good girls, and will watch over them.” “What else?” “That the devil runs away with had girls, and ” “Stop there : never mind the devil yet awhile. Let Iter first learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow. 1 would rather make people religious through their best feel ings than their worst. We can do with out the devil, at present.” There is nearly always something of Nature’s own gentility in every young woman, (except, indeed, when they get together, and fall a giggling.) A vulgar boy requires, Heaven knows vvliat assid uity, to move three steps, I do not say like a gentleman, but like a body that lias a soul in it ; but give the least advantage of society or tuit ion to a peasant girl, and a hundred to one but she will glide into refinement before the boy can make a bow without upsetting the table. The refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious. There was a time when all information was gi ven orally ; and probably the Athenians learned more from hearing Aristotle, than we do from reading him. “Whoever acquires a very great num ber of ideas interesting to the society in which he lives, will be regarded in that society as a man of abilities.”—Helveti an. I think it is Goethe who says some where, that in reading the life of the grea test genius, we always find that he was acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained to gener al distinction. Ferrers had not what is usuallv called genius ; that is, he had no enthusiasm ; and if the word talent be properly inter preted as meaning the talent of doing something better titan others, lie had not much to boast of on that score. But Ferrers had what is often better than e ven genius or talent ; —he had a powerful and most acute mind. It seldom happens that we are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves. It is the senior of from two to ten years, that most seduces J. W. FROST, EDITOR. NUMBER 29. ! and enthrals us. There is very little in fluence, where there is not great sympathy, or similarity of tastes and pursuits. Few persons obtain pre-eminent cele brity for any thing, without some adven titious and extraneous circumstances which have nothing to do with the thing celebrated. Some people seem born with the tem perament and the tastes ofgenius, without its creative power. They have its ner vous system, but something is wanting in ! the intellectual. Beauty lias little to do with enngaging the love of woman. The air, the man j tier, the tone, the conversation, the sorne ■ thing that interests, and something to be proud of, these are the attributes of the man made to he loved. People, to live happily with each other, must fit in, as it were ; the proud be ma ted with the meek, the irritable with the ' gentle, and so forth. We talk of “con i genial minds ; ” but married persons i must not 100 closely resemble each other. Depend upon it, that if you do not ful ! 11l what nature intended for your fate,you will be a morbid misanthrope, or an in j dolent voluptuary—wretched and listless in manhood, repining and joyless in old I aSe “'l’lie men of sense, those idols of the j shallow, are very inferior to the men of passions. It is the strong passions, which, rescuing us from sloth, can alone impart i to us that continuous and earnest attention necessary to great intellectual efforts.”— Ih lectins. A young woman, who once loves a man not indeed old, but much older than her self, loves him with a looking up and ven erating love. The attachment is, perhaps, more deep and pure for the difference of their ages. “I never think (says Montaigne,) ex cept when I sit down to write.” it is true, that connected, severe, well developed thought, in contradistinction to vague me rtlitation, must be connected with some tangible plan or object ; we must be eith er writing men or acting men. ! There is, in a sound and correct intel | lcct, a calm consciousness of power. Men |of second-rate genius, on the contrary, are fretful and nervous. It is the short I man, who is always throwing up his | chin. Good sense is not merely an intellectual j attribute ; it is rather the result of a just j equilibrium of all our faculties, spiritual and moral. It is not an abstract quality |or a solitary talent ; but it is the natural result of the habit of thinking justly, and j therefore seeing clearly. Asa mass of | individual excellence makes up this attri bute in a man, so a mass of such men ! thus characterized, give a character to j a nation. A wise man will despise all the systems : for forcing infants under knowledge-frames 1 which are the present fashion. Philoso phers never made a greater mistake,than in insisting so much upon beginning ab stract education from the cradle. It ru ins the health, and breaks the spirit, and ! nothing is gained. A bold child, who looks you in the lace, speaks the truth and shames the de vil—that is the stuff of which to make men good and brave—aye, and wise i men ! j Depend upon it, that the Almighty,who, I sums up all tlie good and all the evil done !bv his creatures, in a just balance, will not judge the august benefactors of the ! world with the same severity as those drones of society, who have no great ser vices to show in the internal ledger, as a set-off to the indulgence of their small vices. The poor unfortunates, who crowd our streets and theatres, have rarely, in the first instance, been corrupted by love, — but by poverty, and the contagion of cir cumstance and example. It is a misera ble cant phrase, to call them the victims of seduction ; —they have been the vic ! tims of hunger, of vanity, of curiosity, of evil female councils ; but the seduction of love hardly ever conducts to a life of" vice. Man loves the sex, but woman loves only the individual ; and the more she loves him, the more cold she is to tho species. There is a vast deal of hypocricy ii* the affected admiratipn of nature. I don’t think one person in a hundred cares for what lies by the side of a road, so long as the road itselfis good, hills levelled, and turnpikes cheap. Originality arises from seeking rather after the true than the nctr, It is often but a hair’s breadth, that divides a tru ism from a discovery. No two minds are ever the same ; and, therefore, any man who will give us fairly and frankly the suits of his own impressions, uninflueru ced by the servility of imitation, will h* original. Ah ! who is grateful, except a dog and a woman ? Marriages with foreigners are fortunate experiments,