The Southern museum. (Macon, Ga.) 1848-1850, February 03, 1849, Image 1
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oct v g .
From Sartain s Magazine.
W AT E It S OF DI Alt A 11.
Exodus xv., 23.
BY SARAH H. BROWNE.
si Waters of Marali!” thus I mused in wonder,
“ Waters of Marah, have ye ceased to tlow : '
Then came a tone like low and distant thunden
Or voice of many waters, answering “ No !”
“ Waters of Marah,” then I questioned lightly,
“ Tell me, 1 pray ye, where beneath the sun
That shines so warmly, lovingly and brightly,
Where do your dark and turbid currents run
And the hoarse voice catne yet again, replying,
“ Where’er are human strife and human woe,
Where cliidings rage or discontent is sighing,
There do the hitter waves of Marali flow !”
Deep ill the heart of Hatred are they springing—
And up they gush 'neatlr double tongued
Deceit ;
| And soft where Flattery’s silver rhime is ringing,
They glide, with ripple marvellously sweet!
They roar and dash where man assaults his
brother—
Where foes with hostile words or deeds con
tend ;
llut where to min one would lure another,
Mel I ill ous murmurs to the ear they send '.
But when across the Home’s dear threshold,
pouring,
They coldly drench the sacred hearthstone
there,
Till frighted far, the dove of heaven is soaring—
Oil, how intensely hitter then they arc !
For there the limpid waves of peace eternal,
Should roll with strong and ever rising tide;
There Love—parental, filial and fraternal—
In mingling streamlets should perpetual glide !
[ But oh, no plant of green and healthful growing
1 Can thrive by Marah’s dark and poisonous
stream ;
I And heart-born flowers with nectarous drops
o’erflowing,
fl Steeped in its flood, like dregs of vvorimvoad
seem !
beware ye hearts whose angel mission
" a " s you to feed the altar flame of Home,
|^ nd ma ke ii of Earth's gardens most Elysian—
I 1 hither let i lol these bitter w aters come !
wheresoe’er Affection's eye discerneth
H Os Marali hot a single turbid rill,
■Cast in the Branch,* the healing Branch ilia 1
tunieth
I Its angry foam to waters swoet and still !
3 *Exodus xv. 25.
- —■
THc Vanities of tlic World.
U/irewell, )'“• S'lded follies, pleasing troubles ;
W <‘i(.well, ye honored rags,ye gloriousbubbles.
K a,n< 8 * ,u ! a hollow echo ; gold, pure clay ;
*9 Mlor ’ the darling of but ono short day ;
Hr. * nut .' i 'he eye’s idol, but a damasked shin ;
•''ate, but a golden prison to live in,
■Auii torture free-born minds; embroidered trains
r cl\ but pagoants tor proud swelling veins;
BAnd blood allied to greatness is alone
• nheriied, not purchased, not our own.
■ llonor ' beauty, state, train, blood mid birth,
■Arc ut the fuding blossoms of the earth.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
IST HARRISON k MYERS.
TOM TIPP, THE MAW OK GENIUS.
BY THE AUTHOR OP YANKEE NOTIONS.
Tom Tipp was a great genius. His in
fant years were marked by uncommon pre
cocity of intellect.—The same thing, in
deed, has been said of sundry other per
sons ; butriu Tom’s case we have the fact
upon unquestionable authority. The first
bent of genius displayed itself by a shrewd
discovery in the science of bread and but
ter. How many full grown people there
are who cannot tell which side their bread
is buttered ! Yet Tom found this out very
scon after he cut his teeth. As he grew
bigger he grew more cunning; and was
pronounced as bright a child as you would
see of a summer’s day.
He demolished picture hooks and smash
ed crockery, in a style that showed he
would speedily hocotne a smait, enterpris
ing man. These anticipations were soon
fulfilled. He played truant and heat the
school mistress, by the time other boys had
mastered half the alphabet. Need I say
more i Every body called him a lad of
spirit, and predicted he would make a noise
in the world.
It is not exactly known at what age he
fi st got into debt—that manly exploit
which is sure to make the career of a man
of genius at a very early period. Let it
suffice, that he ran up scores in various
quarters, to the annoyance of parents and
the astonishment of the neighborhood.
Other trifling school hoy pranks may he
passed over, ‘ tricks had he in him which
gentlemen have.’ At college, Tom kept
up his character; he robbed hen roosts,
badgered the tutors, raised rebellions, set
fire to the college, and attained to the glory
of a speedy expulsion. A career so bril
liant at the outset promised great things ;
and Tom was set down by all his acquain
tances as a lad of undoubted spirit and
genius. In truth, he thought as much of
himself, and was determined to make his
fortune as soon as he had sown his wild
oats. He had five thousand dollars to be
gin with.
Two or three years did Torn spend in
admiring the smoo.hness of his pantaloons,
as he walked up and down llroadwav ; two
or three more in cultivating whiskers; and
two or three more in cocking his hat over
his left ear. He now thought himself fin
ished and quite the thing; and all the
town called him a likely fellow. At this
critical moment, lie put his hand in his
pocket for a live dollar hill, and, to his
snip ise, found his pocket empty. T’other
pocket was empty too, and his surprise
grew into astonishment, when a farther
scrutiny informed him that all his cash was
gone. ‘ Five thousand dollars !’ exclaim
ed he in amazement ; ‘ and is it all gone V
Echo answered—‘ Gone !’
Was ever a discovery more tnal-a-propos?
An ordinary morial would have been over
whelmed by it; hut Torn instantly be
thought himself, that lie was a man of ge
nius, and this all to rights. * I have on’y
to make my fortune,’ said he, * that’s all.
Yes, I’ll make my fortune without putting
it oft’any longer; what signifies waiting V
So saying, Tom went off to the theatre
and thought no more about it.
A day or two afterwards, a tailor’s hill
came staring him in the face. Tom put
his hand in his pocket, and was again re
minded of his want of cash and his pos
sessi/>n of genius. ‘ Pshaw!’ said he, ‘l’ll
make my fortune—l’d quite forgot to do
it; hut it seems to he time now.’ Tom
having said this, lighted his segar with the
hill, pulled up his cravat, and sallied forth
upon a stroll.
Not many weeks after came a third re
memberance, in the more emphatic shape
of a constable, with an awkward looking
scrap of a paper. Tom got rid of him with
some difficulty ; for constables are a sort
of folks that hold you fig men of genius in
no gteat respect. —‘ Really,’ said Tom, ‘ I
must make my fortune ; 1 may as well do
it now and have it over—so let me think
of it the first thing to-morrow morning.’
With these words Tom went off to What’s
his-name’s, up the street, and called for
champagne and oysters.
Tom’s fortune making scheme appeared
to he totally forgotten by him for three
months longer, and no body can tell to
what extent his forge fulness would have
run, had it not been disturbed by another
of those perverse accidents which seem to
he designed by the malignant fates to
bother gentlemen of genius, likely fellows,
and such high-minded sublimities on two
legs.
Tom was one evening lacingup his pan
taloons for a hall. ‘Not handsome,’ said
lie, looking in the glass, hut ‘killing gen
teel.’ At this moment the cassimers gave
way, in a disastrous rent at the knee !’
‘T’other pair, then,’ said he; hut alas!
Tom had not another pair! ‘ Bah !’ lie
exclaimed, cash, credit and pantaloons
gone! then I must make my fortune, and
so gore goes !”
At these decisive words Tom sat down
to make his fortune ; and began to rub his
head and think. A man of genius has, of
course, the world at his command, and
Torn debated at first with himself, whether
he would bo secretary of state or minister
to the court of St. James. Both offices
had some thousands of dollars salary, and
Tom was of opinion that either might do
till something better cast up. His cogita
tions, however, were awakwardlv inter
rupted by the recollection that possibly
neither of the actual incumbents could he
displaced without some loss of time, while
tailoTs are plaguy impatient. So Tom
MACON, FEBRUARY 3. 1819.
concluded that the safest project would he
to make love to the daughter of old Niggs,
the tallow-chandler. She had red hair,
and was considerably short and thick. * A
dumpy thing,’ said Tom, ‘ hut what of
that !’—The old man will cut up heavy
when he goes off, besides what he’ll fork
over on the wedding day.
Dorothy Niggs was neither coy nor co
quettish, and as for Tom, was not he irre
sistible l 'I o make a long story short,
lom found no great difficulty in gaining
her heart, for let me whisper the secret —
it was the first offer she had ever had, al
though more than —no matter how ni3ny
years old. Tom considered the business
as good as done ; so being desirous to des-*
patch matters because creditors cannot
wait for ever, and a man of genius without
money is constrained to keep his talen s,
and possibly his person, hidden from the
public gaze, to the great loss of the com
munity, he waited upon old Niggs, to re
ceive his consent. He sat in his arm chair
reading a Prices Current. A sheepskin
pocket book, very much worn, lay at his
elbow on a thin quarto volume, entitled I
Hewlett’s Fables of Interest. Tom stated
his business, and the old man lifted up his j
spectacles; but kept fast hold of the news- j
paper.
‘ Oh, I uiuleistand. Are you in the gro
cery line V
No, sir,’ replied Tom, in some sur
prise.
‘ Beg pardon. I thought 1 had seen
your name in the advertisement. Hem!
hem! where was it ! Ah ! here it is.
Thomson and Tipp, Water street, two
hundred hogsheads of molasses.’
‘Altogether a mistake, I assure you,’
said Tom.
* In the hardware trade V
1 Not at all.’
‘Perhaps dry goods V
4 By no means,’ returned Tom, growing j
a little uneasy.
‘ Crockery V
* Neither.’
‘ General Commission V
‘ Can’t say it is.’
‘You an’t in the soap boiling way V
‘ Never was.’
‘ Speculating, I’ll warrant ?’
‘ Not exactly,’ replied Tom, beginning j
to feel quite alarmed at the oddity of these j
querries; ‘ I—l don’tdomuch in the way
of business just now.’
‘ Ah! I understand,’ said old Niggs,
with a knowing kind of grin ; and at the
same lime laying down his newspaper.
‘ Property all sting, live on your income !
Real estate ! hey, or bank stock V
Tom sat with his head considerably for- I
ward during these awakward questions. |
He felt a sort of fidgity embarrassment l
quite unusual for men of genius in the
presence of a tallow-chandler. He fum
bled with the tassel of his cane, and fal
tered out a reply.
‘ Neither sir; the fact is that owing to
peculiar circumstances, my property has
very considerably diminished of late, or
rather, I may say, entirely disappeared.
The first movement of Niggs at these
words was a throw hack of his head with a
stare of unutterable astonishment. The
next was to let it fall again with a very
forcibly sniffy expiration through the nose
that spoke a whole volume of language.
His face instantly assumed the most stub
born and stoical indifference of expression,
while lie adjusted his spectacles with
great calmness, took up his newspaper,
crossed one leg over the other, and pre’en
ded to study the fluctuations of Rusia tal
low with might and main. There was no
mistaking his demeanor. Tom saw in an
instant it was all over with him. He
caught up his hat and rushed out of the
room.
Such a catastrophe as this lie had never
so much as dreamed of. A man of geni
us to be without cash or credit and not a
hle to get a tallow chandler’s daughter for
a wife ! The thought was madness. To
morrow, the whole story would be about ;
town! •Wbatis to become of me,’ ex
claimed Tom. ‘By heaven ! 1 won’t live
another hour in this rascally world! I’ll
shoot myself! I’ll hang myself! Tom in
his confusion, had quitted the house by
the wrong door, and at these words found
himself in the backyard. A well was be
fore him. I’ll drown myself!’ said he, and
jumped in !
Now drowning one’s self is no joke al
though talking of it may he. Many a man
thinks better of his determination to do it,
in a short walk to the head of the wharf.
Before lie had fallen half way, he caught
at the rope, and hung dang'ing for-some
minutes, till liis slregth failed, and then he
gently slipped to the bottom. Don't be
frightened, reader, the water was only
knee deep, and our hero landed with no
other harm than wet feet.
1 would advise all sensible persons not
to jump into a well till they have thought
twice of it. Tom had not been in the
well ten minutes befo e he was heartily
sick of drowning. He would have climb
ed up, hut he was not able ; and there he
was forced to remain counting the tninu es
and the hours till iic was positive he had
been in water half a con'ury. llmv long |
it really was I never learned, but just as ]
he had given himself up for lost, he heard
a voice crying wildly. ‘ I'll drown my
self! Tom was in such astonishment at
these words, that he had no power to
speak. Presently someone approached
the well, exclaiming, • Poor Tom, dear
Tom ! 1 shall never sec you again. Cruel,'
hard hearted father! I’ll drown myself!
and break his heart.’
‘ Tis Dorothy ! by heaven !’ said Tom
to himself. ‘ fcho going to drown herself
for love of me, the dear, faithful, kind hear
ted soul.’
4 1 o love a livers'* ardent! so generous;
No, no ! I cannot live ! Ye stars, fare
well ! Oh! deep abyss open thv awful
jaws and take a wretched despairing maid!’
‘Capital !’ exclaimed Tom, at the bot
tom ot the well, and all so exquisitely
sincere!—She’s an angel! Come to my
arms, thou sweet enchantress—one leap,
and its done !’
But Doro'hy did not lead, she was re
solved like Caesar, to die with dignity.
She laid hold of the rope and slid gently
down, perhaps from a misgiving that her
purpose might cool before she got to the
bottom, in which case it is convenient to
protect the body as well as suspend the
resolution. Now it is much easier to slide
down a rope than to climb, s that Doro
thy’s change of opinion on the subject of
drowning, which took place in transient,
did not prevent her from plumping souse
into the water, and she uttered an uuea<th
ly scream at finding herself in the arms of
a man.
‘ In the name of heaven, who are you ? !
A man or a fish V
4 Only your own dear Tom. Do I look
like a fish V
4 My h'essed stars! and how came you
here V
4 Jumped in out of pure despair—meant
to drown myself!’
‘ Poor fellow ! don’t die, l beg of you,
fir my sake don’t.’
4 I won’t indeed—besides, this drown
ing isn’t exactly what it’s cracked up to
he.’
4 Mercy on us ! wUat shall we do V
How long they continued to ask each
other questions of this sort, we arc unable
to state, hut tete-a-tete at the bottom of a
well must he long enough in all consi
cnee, if it lasts hut half a day. So thought
our two lovers who just began to feel se
rious apprehension of being the subjects
of ‘crowner’s quest,’ when they licatd a
noise above. It was the voice of old
Niggs, who approached the well exc'aim
ing in an almost rueful tone, • l’i/j undone !
I won’t live to endure it!
4 What! more drowning !’ said Tom in
grea'er astonishment than ever. ‘ What
can ail the old put V
‘Lost! lost! lost! lost! exclaimed old
Niggs, leaning his head over and looking
down into the well.
‘ Ah ! his daughter !’ said Tom, ‘ how
lie takes her loss to heart.’
‘ My cash ! my cash ! I shall nfever sec
it again !’ bawled out the old man.
4 Not in a well,’ replied Tom.
4 Oh ! that cursed Cape Flyaway Land
Company that 1 brought into’—
4 And < liis cursed well that I jumped in
to,’ said Tom.
‘ I’ll drown myself, I’ll drown!’ With
these words old Niggs caught hold of the
rope, and went hand over first down nearly
to the bottom, when Tom put a stop to his
descent by a tremendous halloo.
4 Mercy preserve us !’ cried the old fel
low, ‘ who’s there !’
4 An unfortunate man !’ said Tom.
‘ Land speculation !’ demanded Niggs
fearfully.
4 No—a love specu'ation,’ replied Tom.
4 Oho ! 1 think 1 know you. Come
hero to drown V
4 Exactly. And now I think wc know
one another. You may drown if you sec
fit and then 1 will take your daughter.’
4 1 think 1 won’t,’ replied old Niggs, 4 for
I’ve no doubt the company will pay at
least fifty per ccut. I’ve thought better of
it.’
•Good,exclaimed Tom. ‘ We'll all live
and be merry. You wouid’nt have me
tell of this queer affair about town ; you
know it m’ght set some folks a laughing,
eri V
‘ For heaven’s sake, never mention it,
Mr. T om, and Dolly is yours!’
How they got out of the well vve have
not time to say ; hut old Niggs was soon
reconciled to the loss of half liis money.
Tom married Dorothy, kept tlio secret,
and went into partnership with his father
in-law. He has given up liis pretensions
to tiie character of a man of genius, hut
enlightens the world by selling mould and
dipped candles on the lowest terms for
cash or approved credit.
Beauties of Nature.— A single flower
will serve as well as an atmosphere to
prove design. Even a grain of sand hears
unmistakeable marks of the fingers of a
most exquisite artist. The marvellous
thing would he, if so much as a particl© of
matter could ho found which proclaimed
itself to he formless and designless. There
is none such in the universe. We should
be terrified if we found one.
CK7”An Irish gentleman once remarked
in the House of Commons, that the French
were the most restless nation in the world
adding very pointedly. “ They will never
he at peace until they are engaged in an
other war. ’
remember witnessing the com
plete discomfiture of a wit, of no infe
rior order, by a message, politely deliv
ered a? a supper party by a little girl :
“ If you please, Mr. B , mamma
sends her compliments, and would be
much obliged if you would begin to be fan
vf'
VOLUME 1-NUMBER 10.
Struggles es a Yankee In England.
’Flic Merchant’s Magazine has a very
interesting le’ter, dated Stafford, Eng.,
Aug., 15th, ISIS, and addressed to the
late Dixon H. Lewis by his friend J. R.
Remington, a native of Alabama, who is
the inventor of anew patent m dc of con
structing bridges. After unavailing at
tempts to create a demand for his patent
among the wise men at Washington, Mr.
Remington departed for England, and
readied London the Ist of January, 1817.
Ho was without money or friends. For
five months he spent his time in a search
which proved unavailing, for some man
who would take an interest in liis inven
tion. Even Mr. George Bancroft, on
whom he called two or three times, ap
pears to have failed to extend to him the
slightest encouragement or aid. Reming
ton was soon reduced to the most abject
straits, though he proudly avers that he
never begged or asked a favor of any man.
He lived on wretchedly baked corn bread,
and slept on straw, for which he paid a half
penny per night. He became so ragged
and filthy that he could not go amom> men
of business ; and finally severe disease was
induced by tha exposure to cold, the pri
vation and had fare to which lie was sub
jected. His limbs were distorted with
rheumatism, liis face swelled with cold
and toothache, and his hair turned prema
turely gray.
IBs object now was to procure an ad
mission to the Royal Zoological Gardens
in order to make a proposition to the pro
prietor. But he had not the shilling which
was necessary to procure him admission
and a hearing. What dues lie do in liis
despair, hut give a Jew his acknowledge
ment for ,£lO on demand in consideration
of one shilling! He enters the Garden,
communicates with Mr. Tyler, the propri
etor, and finally persuades him to let him
-put up a model of his patent bridge. The
model is completed—a poor thing, hut one
that will give some idea of his plan. He
now wants Mr. Tyler to let him throw a
budge on this plan across the lake in the
Gargens. Well—hut first the model
must he examined by engineers and men
of science to decide whether it is practi
cable. They are called in. They admire
the model, hut declare, most of them, that
it could not he carried to a much greater
length in a bridge than the model itself
measured.
‘ This was the point of life or death with
rne,’ says Remington. ‘ 1 was standing
amidst men of the supposed greatest tal
ents as civil engineers that the world could
produce, and the point was decided against
me. This one time alone were my whole
energies ever aroused. I never talked be
fore—l was haggard and faint for want of
food—my spirits sunk in sorrow in view
of my mournful pmspects—clothes, I had
none—yet, standing over the model did I |
battle with these men. Every word I ut- j
tered came from my inmost soul, and was
big with truth—every a gument carried
conviction.’
lie succeeded. Ho induced Tyler to
let him build the bridge—the sole cotuli- |
tion being that if the bridge should sue- I
ceed it should he called Remington's |
Bridge. He went to work ; and ragged
as lie was, gave his directions to the well
clothed master carpenters. \ lie principle
of the new bridge consisted in the longi
tudinal power of timber being applied in
a curvilinear form, by which every por
tion of the material is brought at once into
play, and supports an equal share of the i
strain. Ins’ead of springing from the a-'
hutments as an arched, or resting upon '
them as a horizontal bridge, the stringers
may he said to hang or he suspended from
the piers, thus bringing the principle of!
the longitudinal hearing into action.
The bridge triumphed ; and lias prfived
one of the greatest hits ever made in Lou
don. Thousands flocked to see it, and to I
this day it is the prominent curiosity of
the Gardens. Remington describes his
ecstacy iri being enabled to put on a clean ;
shirt. Orders soon pYmrod in from the no
bility and others for similar bridges. He \
lias now more orders on hand than he can
execute in ten years ; and fame and for-j
tunc are day-dreams to him no longer. \
But he writes with unconcealed bitterness |
and in a misanthropic spirit : the effect, it j
would seem, of the sufferings and priva- 1
tiotts lie endured, when a kindly word or j
a succoring hand would have, been more |
to him than the acclamations of myriads
or the wealth of a Rothschild could he to
hint now.
It is a terrihle thought to remem
ber that nothing can he forgotten. 1 have
somewhere read that, not an oath is uttered
that does not vibrate through all time, in
the wide-spreading currents of sounds—
not a prayer lisped that its record is not
also to he found stamped on the laws of
nature, by the indelible seal of the Al
mighty's will.”
K47*The cornpletest pun in the records
of literature is produced in the following
words, which were subscribed on a tea
chest “Tu doces,” which is the second
persons singular oftlie vetll docco. to teach,
and when literally translated, becomes
Thou teacdest.
all the passions, jealousy is that
which exacts the hardest service, and pays
the bitterest wages ; for its service is to
watch the success of our enemy, and its
wages to he sure of it.
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
» id i>e ixe-ju'td in the most approved style,
and on the best terms,at the Office ofthe
“SOUTHERN MUSEUM;’
—BY—
HARRISON A- MYERS.
From Magnate's Orators es the Am. RncolutWn
RAXDOLH OK ROANOKE.
John Randolph was six feet high. Hr.
| had elevated shudders, a small head, and
a physiognomy, all the parts of which
were entirely uiiiutellectual, except the
eye. His hair was dark, thin and lank,
and lay close to his head. His voice was
shrill as a fife,and itsclear, (-bricking tones
could he distinctly heard by a large audi
etice. The muscles and skin about his
lace were shriveled and cadaverous, like
wrinkled parchment; his whole form was
so attenuated and meagre, that, tall ns he
was, his acquaintance supposed him not to
weigh more than 130 lbs.
’Flic author of ‘‘Clinton Bradshaw,
who enjoyed a favorable opportunity of
observing the strange being, has given us
the following graphic description of his
person, habiliments, and manners :
“ His long, thin legs, about as thick as
a walking-cane, aud of much such a shape,
were encased inapairof light small-clothes
so tight they seemed part and parcel of
the wearer. Handsome white stockings
were fastened with great tidiness at the
knees by a gold buckle, and over them,
coming about half-way up the calf, were
a pair of what I believe were culled hose,
country-knit. He wore shoes : they wero
old fashioned, and fastened also with buck
les—large ones. He trod like an Indian,
without turning his toes out, hut planking
them right ahead. It was the fashion in
those days to wear a fan tailed coat, with a
small collar, with bu'tons far apart on the
hack, with hut few on the breast. Mr.
Randolph’s was the reverse of this. In
s'ead of being fan tail, it was what l be
lieve the knights cf the needle call swal
low-tailed ; the collar was immensely large;
the buttons were in kissing proximity, and
they sat as close on the breast of the gar
ment as the feast or* at a crowded festival,
liis waist was so remarkable slender, that
as hestood with liis arms akimbo, he could
easily, as I thought, with his long, bonv
fingers, have spanned it. Around him, his
coat, which was very tight, v, ss held to
gether by one button, aud in consequence,
an inch or more of tape, to which the but
ton was attached, was perceptible where
it was pulled through the cloth. About
his neck he wore a white cravat, in which
his chin was occasionally hurried as N he
moved his head in conversation ; no shirt
collar was perceptible ; every other per
son seemed to pride himself on the size of
his, as they were then worn large. Mr!
Randolph’s complexion was precisely that
of a mummy—withered, saflron, dry and
bloodless: you could not have placed a
pin’s point on liis face, where you would
not have touched a wrinkle. His lips
were thin, compressed and coloiless ; the
chin,beardless as a hoy’s,was broad for the
size of his face, which was small* his nose
was straight, with nothing remarkable in
it, except that it wat too short. He wore
a fur cap, which betook off, standing a few
minutes uncovered. Fancy a dead man
struck into life by lightning, and all his life
in his eyes, and you have a picture of John
Randolph.”
From the Yankee Blade.
“Better Wear Out, than liust Out.”
Considering how may licadflawg. vexa
tions, and trials one meets with in the
course of an active life, it is not strange
thul many become disgusted with business,
and long to withdraw from the throng of
men, to spend their days in retirement,
peace, and quietness. But disagreeable
as may he their situation, it may well he
doubted whe her they would gain anythin”
by flying from even the most uncongenial
pursuits to enjoy the fancied sweets of
idleness in a corner. The charms of soli
tude look exceedingly attractive, as viewed
through the heightening and embellishing
medium of poetry ; and no doubt there is
much pleasure in occasional intervals of
that sort; Ini', taken in large doses, the
thing soon becomes a bore. Say what you
will about the troubles of life, it is best
after all for every one to keep afloat upon
the sea of existence, partaking of its roll,
aud ever-varying scenery and pursuits. It
is true storms and tempests may sweep
along liis track ; the sails mny he tern now
and then, and the bottom grazed, and there
is danger always of even total shipwreck;
hut better brave all these risks than ho
lying high and dry on land, will the cer
tain fate of rotting and crumbling to pie
ces.—There are a few lazy, sleepy-headed
fellows in every society, who might per
haps doze away life in solitude with a de
gree of oyster-like satisfaction ; hut your
“smart” healthy-minded, wide-awake
man, would he in such a situation like a
fish ont of water —or rather like an em
bayed whale, spending on a vain lashing
of the waves the streng'h designed for
making liis way in the open sea, The
competitions es business and ambition—
the hardships, cares, and perplexities of
life—the thwartings and disappointments
one exp riences at every step in his ca
reer, are not after all unmitigated evils ;
they have all tbeir use in disciplining a
man- in awakeking new sensations and
energies. They have been well compared
to the north-easters of our temperate cli
mate —unpleasant, hut bracing; severe
somewhat upon the herbage, but repaying
us a thousand-fold in thedispersugi which
they give to those noxious influences which
ift stiller atmospheres fester till p.Q
duce fevers and plagues.