Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

Inventors and Inventions. —It is a matter of wonJer to the present generation, that many of our most useful and indispensible inventions in machinery, were not introduc ed to practical use for ten, twenty, or fifty years after they had been discovered, and their utility demonstrated ; among which are steamboats, rail-roads, and locomotives. The next generation will be no less astonish ed at the stupidity of the present, in neglect ing to avail themselves of the advantages of many* no less important inventions, which have been known and proved twenty years since, and of which the practicability and utility have been fully demonstrated and published. We perhaps should not gain much credit, by tne unqualified assertion, that nine tenths of the rich men of this en lightened age, and iu this enlightened coun try, are down right bonafide fools with re gard to the true scientific principles, and theory of Mechanics : therefore we will not say it, whatever may be our conviction ; but certain it is, that there are now before the public, more than twenty valuable, and some of them immensely valuable new inventions, the authors of which, being poor —and all first rate inventors are poor —can not induce the contemptibly stupid capitallists, to fur nish the means of introducing them, or to take an interest in them at any rate, but rath er oppose their introduction, and will only adopt their use, when compelled to do so, as it were in self defence, after they have been introduced by others. It is not enough for an inventor to construct and put iu success ful operation, one of his inventions, and call a hundred people to witness its performance: lie must put it into general use, at his own expense and in face of a host of prejudices for years, before he can get the confidence of the public in the utility of his invention, or especially that of those who think them selves among the u'iscst of the community. Would tho grave and wise sages of the country, keep themselves as totally ignorant of the courses and channels of vice and mis chief, as they are of the mechanical science, even the scientific inventors would be en abled to introduce their own inventions suc cessfully, without depending as at present, on the assistance of others, who are more Wealthy,— American Mechanic. The stuffed Cat. —An old chiffonier (or fag picker) died in Paris in a state of the most abject poverty. His only relation was E niece, who lived as a servant with a green grocer. The girl always assisted her uncle as far as her slender means would permit. When she learned of his death, which took place suddenly, she was on the point of mar riage with a journeyman baker, to whom she bad long been attached. The nuptial day Was fixed, but Suzette had not yet bought her wedding clothes. She hastened to tell her lover that the marriage must be defer red ; she wanted the price of her bridal fine ry, to lay her uncle decently in tho grave. Her mistress ridiculed the idea, and exhort ed her to leave the old man to be buried by charity. Suzette refused. The consequence was a quarrel, in which tho young woman lost at once her place and her lover, who sided with her mistress. She hastened to the miserable garret, where her uncle had expired, and by Ihe sacrifice, not only of her wedding attire, but nearly all the rest of her slender wardrobe, she had the old man de cently interred. Her pious task fulfilled, she sat alone in her uncle’s room weeping bitterly, when the master of her faithless lover, a young good looking man entered. “ So, my Suzette, I find you have lost your place !” cried he, “ I am come to offer you one for life—will you marry me ?” ” I sir 1 you ar6 joking.” “No faith, I want a wife, and I’m sure I can’t find a better.” “ But every body will laugh at you for marrying a poor girl like me.” “ Oh! if that is your only objection we shall soon get over it; come, come along, my mother is prepared to receive you.” • Suzetto hesitated no longer, but she wish ed to take with her a memorial of her de ceased uncle : it was a cat he had for many years. The old man was so fond of the ani mal that he was determined that even death should not separate them; for he had her stuffed and placed on the tester of his bed. As Suzette took down puss, she uttered an exclamation of surprise at finding her so heavy. The lover hastened to open the animal, when out fell a shower of gold. There were a thousand Louis concealed in the body of a cat, and this sum which the old miser had starved himself to amass be came the just reward of the worthy girl and her disinterested lover. . The word capital, as applied in a mercan tile sense to the trading fund which a mer chant, banker, company, or others adven ture for the purposo of producing wealth in the way of business, is though a Latin word, derived from the usage of our Saxon ancestors, whose riches, like the Eastern Patriarchs, consisted mostly in flocks and herds, and who, not having gold or silver to pay their taxes, met them by payments of cattle or other live stock. Dr. Howell, in his history of the world, observes “ that in the writings of those Saxon times, and even in later periods, by the word pecunia was often meant live stock or cattle, expressed by the words viva pecunia ; and from their heads or capita, were framed the words ca pital, capitate and capitalia, signifying goods moveablo or immoveable, and sometimes pledges, and the price, and value of things, and what we now term catalla and chattals.” — Georgian. Questions for the Learned. —Why does the hair of a soaplock and a little pig’s tail curl up 1 Why are ladies more polite to other men than their own husbands 1 Wbat is there so disagreeable in religion, that those who possess it should always wear a doleful countenance 1 Why do people evince the least friend ship to you, when they know that you stand in the most want of it 1 Why are young people very kind to their rich old invalid uncles i Why are bad deeds committed by a man in a ragged coat always so disgraceful ? Why does justice—being blind—always see the gold lace on a culprit’s coat 1 The jolly Miller. —A Fragment. —Lolling indolently at the foot of his mill steps, stood a stout miller, whistling merrily, when a stranger, who had been for some time slow ly toiling up the hill, accosted him. “ Why dost thou whistle, friend f* said he. ** For lack of wind,” replied the miller, abruptly, and the strangei smiled at the pa radoxical reply. “ Thou art short—” continued he. “ Some six feet, at any rate,” answered the miller drawing himself up. “ Thou ait a merry soul.” “ Merry ! psaw ! flat as a cask of unbung ed ale; no ! that’s windy, rather like an un blown bladder, for that’s flat for the same reason, want of wind.” “ Then thou art only in spirits when thy mill’s going like a race horse.” “ That’s a bad comparison,” said the mil ler, “ for my mill goes only when it’s blown, and that’s just when a horse stops.” “ True: I should have said an ass, for that goes the better for a blow.” “ Thou hast hit it,” said the miller, laugh ing; “ and I shall henceforth never see a donkey without thinking”— “ Os me !” anticipated the stranger, join ing in the laugh, “ Surely,” continued be ; “ thine is a happy vocation. Thy situation, too, is much above the richest of thy neighbors, nay, even the great lord of the manor himself, must look little from the height thou beholdest him.” “ Why, yes,” replied the miller, “ and al though I be not a proud man, I look down upon all; for not only the peasant, hut the squiie, is beneath me. ’Tis true, like anoth er tradesman, I depend upon my sails for a livelihood ; but I draw all my money from the farmer’s till; and then all the hungry look up to me for their bread.” “ How grateful ought all to be for thy favors!” “ Aye, indeed ; for where would be cith er the highest or the lowest bread without my exertions ? To be sure, if they be un grateful, I can give them the sack /” “ Every mouth ought to be tilled with the miller’s praise,” said the stranger. “ Certainly,” added the miller, “ for eve ry mouth would be imperfect without the grinders.” Here they both joined in a hearty laugh, and the jolly miller, finding the strangei’s opinions and sentiments so flattering in uni son with his own, gave him an invitation to taste his malt, while they conversed upon his meal. Best Imitation of Ground Glass for 117/?- doics. —Select some of the most purely transparent lumps of gum copal, and reduce them to a fine powder. Spread a thin coat of copal varnish deluded with spirits of tur pentine, over one surface of the glass, anil when it has become a little hard, sprinkle over it the powdered copal till the varnish is covered, and press it down gently with a ball of cotton or of flannel, or if the posi tion of the glass is vertical, dip a ball of flan nel in the powder, and apply it to the varnish till the suiiace is covered. When the varnish is thoroughly dry, brush off a part of the powder with a stiff brush, observing to brush uniformly in one direction. Then if any lines, figures or flowers are to appear transparent, tho powdered varnish may ho scraped off from such parts, with the edge of a small chisel. This work will bear wash ing, and each particle of the powdered gum being transparent, none of the light which would ordinarily pass through the glass, will be obstructed.— American Mechan’c. Absurdities. —To attempt to borrow mo ney on a plea of extreme poverty. To lose money at play, and then fly into a passion about it. To ask a publisher of anew peri odical how many copies he sells per week. To ask a wine merchant how old his wine is. To make yourself generally disagreea ble, and wonder that nobody will visit you, unless they gain some palpablo advantage by it. To get drunk and complain the next morning of a headache. To spend your earnings in liquor and wonder that you are ragged. To sit shivering in the cold be cause you wont have a fire till November. To suppose that the reviewers generally read more than tho title page of the works thoy praise or condemn. To judge of peo ?le’s piety by their attendance at church. ’o keep your clerks on miserable salaries, and wonder at their robbing you. Not to go to bed when you are tired and sleepy, because it is not bed time. To make your servants tell lies for you, and afterwards be angry because they tell lies for themselves. To tell your own secrets, and believe other people will keep them. To render a man a service voluntarily, and expect him to be grateful for it. To expect to make people honest by hardening them in jail, and after wards send them adrift without the means of getting work. To say that a man is charitable because he subscribes to a hospi tal. To keep a dog or cat on short allow ance, and complain of its being a thief. To degrade human nature in the hope of im proving it. To praise tho beauty of a wo man’s hair, before you know whether it did not once belong to somebody else. To ex pect tliat your trades people will give you long credit, if they generally see you in shab by clothes. To arrive at the age of fifty, and be surprised at any vice, folly, or absur dity your fellow creatures may be guilty of. To attempt the collection of newspaper dues by advertising that yon are in want of tho money to pay debts—true as it sure ly is. We arc exceedingly Borry to say any thing against the ladies, but we have lately heard thievish reports about them. It is currently reported and generally believed of the whole sex, that they do not scruple to hook each others frocks 1 The naughty boys at Springfield kiss tho young ladies iji temperance meetings. He of the Springfield Republican is of opinion that such things are not consistent with total abstinence. The question appears to be this. Is kissing intoxicating 1 Who docs answer. It is not polite to proffer a gin sling to a brother tetotullor, unless you think him bo dily indisposed. QIItSQIBIbILimVo The Sun at Midnight. —A steamboat leaves Stockholm every week, and touches a Gefle, Hudiksval, Hemosand, Umea, and other points on the western coast of the Gulf of Bothinia, as well as Wassa on the eastern, on its way up to Tornea, at the head of the Gulf. This voyage is a pleasant cjne, and gives an opportunity to those who wish to go up to that very northern city at the sum mer solstice, (the 23d of June, or St. John’s day,) when, from a neighboring mountain, they can have their faith confirmed in the truth of the Copernican system ; for at that epoch the sun, to those who are on that ele vation, does not descend below the horizon, but it seems to decline to the northwest, and verge more and more to the exact north, un til it reaches at midnight its lowest point, when it is just visible above the horizon. In a sow moments it is seen to commence its upward course towards the northeast, and thus continues its glorious progress until it readies again its zenith at the south. Even to one who is at Stockholm, at that epoch, the nights for two or three weeks are suffi ciently light from the refraction of the sun’s rays, owing to its being so little beneath the horizon, for the performance of almost any business. We happened, about that time four years ago, tube going up to the Promo tion at Upsala, and were obliged to travel all night, and we had a distinct recollection of reading a letter at midnight with ease, even while passing through a forest. And the year after, the same season, we often whil ed away our leisure moments by sitting at the window of the house where we stayed, on the English quay at St. Petersburg, a ci ty which is situated in the same degree with Upsala, and half a degree north of Stock holm, and leading until midnight. During that period scarcely a cloud was to be seen in the sky, which had, both day and night, (fiat light blue which is peculiar to these northern regions at that portion of the year, and which is occasioned by the rays of the sun striking the atmosphere of that portion of the earth at so small an angle. Scarcely a star was visible in the heavens at night, and the moon, even when full, hardly formed a shadow. At that season there is something unnatural and deathlike in tho appearance of things as night sets in. Busi ness comes to an end before the sun goes down, and all nature falls into stillness and repose, whilst it is yet light; and, if you have been unaccustomed to such a state of things, you seem, as you pass through the streets, whether it boos Stockholm or St. Petersburg, Hernosand or Tornea, to be in tlio midst of a city which is uninhabited. No living thing, perhaps, is tube seen any where, as you pas3 street after street, save some solitary sentinel, with his gray coat aud musket.— Baird’s Travels. Crokcr. —John Wilson Croker, the Secre tary of the Admiralty, has always been ve ry unpopular among the English liberals. Asa membei of Parliament, he distinguish ed himself as a rank tory ; greedy of place, friendly to conception, and dishonest in ar gument : as a quarterly reviewer, he attack ed the literary productions of Hunt, Haz litt and other liberals, principallyon account of their politics. Bulwer, we believe, has a cordial hatred for him ; and those who re collect his scorching review of his edition of Boswell’s Johnson, which Macaulay wrote for the Edinburg, can have some idea of the tender mercies with which he was regard ed by his parliamentary opponents. The best story we have heard of him is told by Hazlitt. A man by the name of Fulke Greenville established a periodical many years ago, under the title of the Pic Nic, and engaged Horace Smith, Prince Hoare, Cumberland, and others, to.contribute to it. On*some dispute arising between the gen tlemen contributors, on the. subject of an advance in the remuneration of articles, Mr. Fulke Greenville grew heroic, and said, “ I have got a young fellow just come from Ireland, who will undertake to do the whole, verse and prose, politics and scandal, for two guineas a week, and if you will come and sup with me to-morroiv night) you shall see him and judge whether I am. l ight in closing with him.” They met the next evening, and the writer of all work was in troduced. He began to make a display of his native ignorance and impudence on all subjects immediately, and no one else, as the story goes, had occasion to say any thing. When he was gone, Mr. Cumberland ex claimed, “ A talking potato, by !” The talking potato was Mr. Croker, who rose from this miserable state of penny-a-line ship, to a member of Parliament, a quarter ly reviewer, and Secretary of the Admiralty. Is he rich I —Many a sigh is heaved— many a heart is broken—many a life is ren dered miserable by the terrible infatuation which parents often manifest in choosing a life companion for their daughters. How is it possible for happiness to result from the union of two principles so diametrically op posed to each other in every point as virtue to vice ? And yet, how often is wealth con sidered a better recommendation to a young man than virtue ! How often is the first question which is asked respecting tho sui tor of a daughter, this : “Is ho rich!” Is he rich? Yes, lie abounds in wealth; but does that afford any evidence that he will make a kind and affectionate husband 1 Is he rich ? Yes ! “ his clothing is purple and fine linen, and he fares sumptuously every day but can you infer from this that he is virtuous l” Is lie rich ? Yes! lie lias thou sands floating on every ocean; but do not riches sometimes “ take to themselves wings and fly away ?” And will you consent that your daughter shall marry a man that has nothing to recommend him but liis wealth 1 Ah! beware: the gilded bait sometimes covers a barbed hook. Ask not then, “Is he rich ?” but is he virtuous? American Working Men. —At a large meeting of the citizens of Bangor, Me., held not long since, a series of resolutions were offered by Governor Kent, and adopt ed. Tho following is one of these resolu tions : llesolved, That American Workingmen, in accordance with the spirit of our republi can institutions, are entitled to maintain a high position in society, and to live well, to educate their children, and maintain their families in a comfortable maunei, and to ro- | ceive for their labor adequate rewards which will enable them thus to live ; that they can not thus maintain that position if they are compelled by want of protection to compete with the pauper laborers of Europe, and to work for wages which are not, enough to furnish the necessary food and clothing. For the Southern Miscellany. FROM MEMORIES OF THE PAST. BT E . M . P. Ix n far citv, without friend or foe, A stranger to the world and all its woe, I wandered through new scenes with rapt delight, Greeting each object with my ravished sight. Here, ’mid the crowded street. 1 saw the stream Os human life roll on, as in a dream— Some bright and joyous, with the roseate bloom Os health upon their cheeks, and some in gloom, With pallid face and deeply sunken eye, Destined to live a few brief hours—and die ! And here the works of Art, huge temples rise, With lofty turrets verging to the skies ; And marble tombs, fit coverings for the dead, With frowning arches hanging over head ; And classic pictutes from the olden land. The graphic etchings of some master hand. These, all hy turns, I’d view with fond delight, ’Till they had vanished ’neath the gloom of night; But still impressed upon my youthful brain, In my hushed sleep, I’d dream them o’er again t And then the solitary watchman’s cry, Would make me tremble as it rose on high— And echo after echo answered round, With never varying tone, that lonely sound. Mcthought it sure must be the voice of grief Calling upon the night-winds for relief, From some lone pris’ner in some gloomy cell— But whence the echo, fancy could not tell. It might be from a spirit of the dead, Wailing o’er happy scenes forever fled! But sure it was, that echo always came, And each returning night it was the same ; E’en now, though years have fled, I hear the knell Os that lone voice, in memory’s waste, “ AH *s well!” As if in irony ; and still it seems A wild creation of my boyhood dreams. But now, when morning breaks, I roam once more Through crowded streets, cron the ocean’s shore, Where mighty Cooper, with majestic sweep, Tours all his gathered w aters in the deep ; Or gentle Ashley, with his lovely isles, Winds round the city, to receive its smiles. How oft upon thy shores, oh! classic stream ! Has stood the way-worn Student in his dream Os future years, when e’en his humble name Might soar in distant climes, on wings of Fame. For here, just where thy waters end their way, And widen out into a lovely bay, Stood a famed Temple,* used in days of yore For Thespian games, but now for classic lore. To this, my destiny was bound for years— A tie unbroken, but with boyhood tears. But to the bold Atlantic shore again. Its towering masts, and wide-extended main, Where opening beauties rise on every hand, Blending the scenes of ocean, sky and land ! Oh, I shall ne’er forget, when first my gaze Fell on that lovely scene, as Cynthia’s rays Shone o’er the bosom of the waveless sea— So grand, so beautiful, so new to me ! Far off 1 heard the sound of murmuring waves As when fierce Scylla and Charybdis raves ; Or then, in softened tones, the moaning surge Fell on my ear, like some lone sailor's dirge : Around me spread the masts on every hand, Towering like forests of my native land ; And here and there, beneath the moon's pale ray, The little skiffs played o’er the silver bay: While in the distance lay two lovely isles, To greet the home-bound sailor with their smiles. Still farther on the gleam of a lone light Shot faintly o’er the deepening gloom of night, To warn the vessels of that stormy shore Where they who venture, sink to rise no more! And the wild breakers dash the foaming waves In angry surges o’er their restless graves. But, hark ! what awful sound in this lone hour, Breaks forth in deepening peals from yon high tower? St. Michael’s bell, counting the flight of time, With its loud voice—its everlasting chime. Sage chronicler of generations past! How sad thy music trembles on the blast— Bringing the memory oi other years, The knell of death—the lonely widow’s tears, And orphans weeking round the spot of earth Where lie the relics of departed worth. I turn me to the ocean wave once mure, And listen to its loud and distant roar, Then hie me homeward, to my nightly sleep, To dream of islands slumbering on the deep. And now once more the shades of night give way Before the cheering beams of orient day; The light breaks though my casement, with the gleam Os early morn : how beauteous docs it seem ! Like the confiding smiles of those we love, Or the bright hopes that lead our thoughts above. The early Sabbath bells, with solemn tone, Fill all the air around with their deep moan, And waken from their long but fitful rest, The feelings of devotion in my breast. I wander forth, and mingle with the throng, As to the House of Prayer they move along; But feel myseli the vilest of them all, And pray that dread oblivion’s gloomy pall Might hide forever from my saddened gaze, The rueful follies of my mispent days. Oh, who can tell the anguish of the heart That strives to play Ambition’s foolish part, When Heaven to other scenes points out the way, And bids it, at the risk of Heaven, obey! But who can know the joys that spirit feels When, withobediance meek, it lowly kneels, And casts its all of hope beyond the grave On Him whose arm's omnipotent to save. He only knows who, with contented mind, Leaves all the follies of the world behind, And seeks enduring joys that ne'er shall fade In glorious temples which Jehovah made! Sparta, December, 1810. * Medical College of the State of South-Carolina, for merly the Broad-street Theatre. Written for the “ Southern Miscellany.” “IT MUST FAIL.” ” Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land, All fear—none aid you—and few understand.” It is apparent to the most superficial observ er, that mankind in general, are very tenacious of the old and long sanctioned customs of their ancestors; and are opposed to almost all innovations, no matter in what depart ment of science or mechanism they may have originated, or to wlint grand results they may tend. This opposition to every thing that diverges from the old and beaten track, sometimes has its origin in conscien tious scruples, and an antipathy to experi ments which those who oppose do not fully comprehend the design of. But we are constrained to admit, that this opposition more frequently arises from a perverse spirit of contradiction—the lore of opposi tion to every tiling calculated in its tendency to give anew turn to the avocations of life, qr anew impetus to the springs of industry. How lamentably true it is, that whenever some adventurous genius launches forth up on the broad field of experiment and con ceives some grand project—one which, in many instances, if carried into- practical operation, Would improve the physical con dition of society almost beyond computa tion—he is met by the sneers, the contempt, and the ridicule of those who are content to see every thing remain in statu quo . — Some content themselves with prophecying the utter failure of tho scheme, while others, more malignant in their persecution, assert it as their opinion, that he is deranged, or gone beside himself; and others again, affect to pity his misfortunes; but they all agree in the opinion, that he must inevitably fail in the enterprise. Some of these sa pient prognosticators are, no doubt, actu ated by self-interest, or a spirit of envy— that spirit which hates to see another flour ishing in the world and rising to an eminence which they cannot reach. Thompson says, “ Base envy withers at another’s joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.” Asa case in point—the writer of this ar ticle accidentally heard not long since, a gentleman, who is now an acting agent for another paper, speaking of the “Southern Miscellany,” very wisely observe, “it must fail” How disinterested! What else but self-interest, or a malignant disposition, could induce such a remark, so unbecoming, and so ungenerous in its tendency towards one who is pursuing the same profession with himself. But this is ever the way of the envious. They hate to see their neigh bors flourish; and hence hy sly hints and inuendoes, they give utterance to that which their cowardly consciences will not let them openly proclaim. But, Mr. Editor, should yon persevere in your laudable undertaking, which we are assured by your last paper you will, so long as you can “raise a dollar,” and convince these wiseacres of the practicability of your enterprise—and which you will be enabled to do, if the citizens of this place and the surrounding country, who no doubt feel in terested in the success of your paper, will step forward to your assistance, and prevent the consumation of the wishes of those who are interested in its downfall. This we feel very confident they will do. But to return again to our subject. Need we multiply examples of this propensity of the human family to doubt of every tiling which tends to the amelioration of our con dition? In no instance has this disposition been more prominently manifested than in the invention of steam power, and its appli cation to machinery. The immortal Ful ton, as he toiled to set in motion this gigan tic power, which was destined to bring about a complete revolution in the physical condition of society, had to contend with the taunts and sarcasms of his enemies, and the gloomy forebodings and admonitions of his friends. But he persevered with a bold indomitable spirit, undismayed by misfor tune, and his grandest conceptions have been more than realized. The tall Steam ships as they float upon the “ vasty deep,” have rendered a passage across this “ world of waters” a matter of mere pastime; where as, prior to the application of this propelling power to machinery, it was almost a lifetime voyage. Look too at the numerous steam boats that now float on every navigable stream from Maine to Louisiana—the rat tling locomotives that come booming over our rail roads, and you will be able to form hut a faint idea of the immense advantages which have resulted to the civilized world from this truly great invention. It has liter ally caused “ The desert to bloom and blossom as the rose.” This perverse spirit of opposition to new improvements should be discountenanced by all—for it only tends to repress the noble aspirations of those who are capable of de veloping and bringing to light the hidden resources of mechanism, and applying them to the advancement of the human race. It often leads us to an indiscriminate opposi tion to measures which, if carried out, would promote our happiness as a Nation. For instance, should some daring spirit, more bold than his fellows, venture even the sug gestion that some alteration or amendment might bo advantageously made in the fun damental law of the land, he is met at the very threshold with the objection, that this is the work of our fathers, and ought not to be touched or invaded. Let us here drop a hint to those malcon tents who oppose every thing, for the mere love of opposition; ami we would respect fully suggest to such to pause before they go too far—for by their conduct they throw many obstacles in the way of those enter prising spirits who are exerting all the ener gy in their power for the progressive im provement of the human family. PETER. Written for the “Southern Miscellany.” Mr. Editor: lam so unfortunate at pres ent as to have nothing to do but to mind my own business; no easy task to any one, and especially difficult and tatalizing to a cer tain class of individuals very properly term ed quid-nunes, (persons curious to know every thing;) and as I have the honor to be numbered as one of that interesting and in dustrious hand, I hope you will have the charity to pardon me for daring to trouble you about a matter, which, though it appear to you quite trivial, is to me of the greatest consequence; as I apprehend, that unless I accomplish my desire I shall die, ere three weeks have elapsed, of no other distemper than downright curiosity. In short, Mr. Editor, the reason of my transmitting to you, at this time, these few lines, is to learn, if possible, tho meaning of the term “ hys terics,” used so commonly by the Ladies and Gentlemen of the present day. Not withstanding my visage is a little rough and deformed, yet, I am so far favored now and then as to be invited to a party, or some thing of the kind; and I have observed at such places, that if any one of the company lacks a little of being as gay and loquacious as tho rest, forsooth ho or she, as the case may bo, is immediately charged, by all, with being most wofully affected with that strange, indoscribable malady, the “hys terics.” “Ah!” cries one, “I can truly sympathise with you, for I myself am often times so • violently attacked by this same ever-to-be-dreaded mania, that I really think I shall die with it.” Then 10, and behold! some Gentleman must declare, that this same nondescript disorder sometimes seizes him with such a firm grasp that he cannot, with out much ado, free himself from its clutches. Now, Mr. Editor, you will easily imagine the unpleasant situation in which I am placed, when I must needs screw myself up into one corner of the apartment, and there sit with my hands up to my elbows in my pockets, not even daring to open my mouth for fear of exposing my ignorance of this mysterious terrfi—all the while apprehensive that someone will accuse me, on account of my taciturnity, of being sorely smitten with the same, and not knowing what to respond if she should. 1 have, indeed, taken the fains to consult several Lexicographers, and find them all to be so faulty as to give but one signification to this choice word, which is such, that I am sure, if there be no other, no one possessed of any great deal of mo desty would ever mention the term in com pany. I have imagined to myself, from what I have observed,’that it is regarded by those who are fond of using it, as being some what allied to hypochondria or enui, and I presume, it is used in lieu of either one or the other of these terms, because each of them being of itself such a formidable dis temper, there must needs be some soft melo dious word to express it. “Hysterics!” how much euphony there is in its sound! I almost fancy, when I breathe it softly, that my ears are saluted with the sound of distant music—that I am listening to the soul-melt ing harmony of Apollo’s lyre, or the Nym phic lute. But I will forbear to say any thing more, merely adding, that if you can learn what, at the present day, is the signi fication of this beautiful term, you will con fer a great favor upon myself and the “Quid nune Fraternity” by informing us forth with. Yours, See. PETER BROM BONES. Social Circle, May, 1842. PROVERBS. 13. A bow long bent at last waxeth freak. “This,” says Ray, “may he applied both to the body and the mind: too much labor and study weakens and impairs both the one and the other.” Our young readers well know this proverb in another shape; which is fair enough, if it be not acted upon too free ly : “ All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” It was a good answer of N. Anthony, the hermit, to a huntsman who had taken notice of his former strictures and self-denial, and afterwards saw him laughing and merry with his brethren that came to see him.— The hermit perceived what was passing in the man’s mind, and said, ‘ Huntsman, bend thy bow.” He did so. “Bend it more.” He obeyed him. “ Bend it yet more.”— “ No,” answered the huntsman, “ then it will break.” “Just so,” said the her (nit, “it is with these severities; too much of them spoils all, but the moderate us© of them does good both to soul and body.” 14. Who more busy than he that has least to do ? And yet every one has, or ought to have, something to do; he has a talent intrusted to him, which it is his bounden duty to im L prove to the best advantage. If each per son would properly apply to’ himself the advice of the wise man, “ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might,” (Eccl. ix. 10,) there would be no officiou# prying into the business of others; and “ When each man keeps unto his trade, Then all things will be better made.” 15. A good beginning makes a good ending. Ray’s comment on this is, a good life’ makes a good death. 16. Hasty climbers have sudden falls. “ Those,” says Ray, “ that rise suddenly from a mean condition to great estate or dignity, do often fall more suddenly, as I might easily instance in many court-favor ites ; and there is reason for it, because such’ a speedy advancement is apt to beget pride,- and consequently folly in them, and envy in others, which must needs precipitate them*- Sudden changes to extraordinary good or bad fortune are apt to turn men’s brains.” In the “Grey Can for Green Heads” is the following remark: “ Babel’s projectors,- seeking a name, found confusion; and Ica rus, by flying too high, melted his waxen wings and fell into the sea.” Gray expres ses the idea very finely: “ Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then hurl the wretch from high, To bitter scorn a sacrifice, And grinning infamy!” 17. Full of Courtesy, full of Craft. “ Sincere and true-hearted persons,” ob serves Ray, “ are least given to compliment and ceremony. I suspect he hath some design upon me who courts and flatters me.” And the Italians say, “ The dog wags his taffi, not for thee but for the bread.” Flattery injures many whom sincere treat* ment would improve. It is often the caso with flatterers, according to an old writer, that “they have the voice of Jacob but the hands of Esau. They are smooth in their words but rough in their actions.” So much danger is there in flattery, that Siglsmund, Emperor of Germany, struck a man who praised him too much, saying, “he bit me!” On the other hand, we are told of a plain speaking schoolmaster, who had in one of his rooms a large glass, in which he caused his scholars to behold themselves. If they were handsome, he would tell them, “What a pity it was such goodly bodies should be possessed of defective minds.” If they were plain or deformed, he would tell them, “ They should make their bodies more beau tiful hy dressing their minds.” Let not this proverb, however, be supposed to forbid courtesy, or to encourage that coarse and rude kind of sincerity which goes under tho name of bluntness, in which there is often not a little affectation. “With courtesy,’ say the Arabs, “the fracture is repaired f that is, with gentleness and urbanity a recon ciliation can be effected in quarrels. And w* have better oracles than theso—Holy Scrip* ture instructs us to “be courteous.”