Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

52 For the Southern Literary Gazette. INTERCEPTED LETTERS—NO. 11. FROM MISS ANN E.... TO HER COUSIN IN TOWN. Dear Hetty, —l vow, I was half scared to death, And my nerves they were all of a twitter ; I held up both hands, and I drew a long breath, When I saw in the paper your letter. I wonder’d when Tom brought the parcel from town, That you did not enclose me a billet; Tho’ the seeming neglect to the haste 1 set down, With which you were called on to fill it. Then guess my surprise and my vexation, too, When 1 found they had printed your letter; I exclaimed to myself, “ Here’s a pretty to-do ; The editor should have known better.” How did it all happen, dear cousin, I pray 1 Did you loose it, or did someone steal it ? I declare, ’twas a shame —in whatever way — To the public eye thus to reveal it. Only think ! all your details of shopping to be Laughed at by the students in College : 1 doubt not they read them with wonderful glee ; They’d rather learn nonsense than knowledge. Then the under-skirts, hair-pins and white cotton Oh Hetty ! I feel my cheeks flushing; [hose, ’Tis no fault of mine, or of yours, I suppose, But that cannot keep me from blushing. But, “ ’tis no use to cry over spilt milk,” they say, And so here’s a truce to vexation: Your letter itself was so lively and gay, That it really deserved publication. I thank you, dear cousin, for all the kind care You displayed in your various selection ; The dress and the mantle are loves, I declare, And their color just suits my complexion. The slippers are beauties, and I think you would say That my foot looks exceedingly pretty: Now you know that I shouldn’t run on in this way To any but you, cousin Hetty. I’ve tried the new music, but then it’s a bore To play when there’s nobody dancing ; I’ve read the new novel, (I wish you’d sent more,) And thought it was really entrancing. The gloves that you sent me arc one size too small, I wanted them six and three quarters; But they’ll answer for Fanny—and pa says that’s all Tho advantage of having two daughters. I shall not come to Athens in August, I fear, For uncle declares lie’s not going; Tho’ he’s not missed a season this many a year, And he may change his mind —there’s no knowing. I had a long letter from M — t’other day, Who says that Miss L.’s to be married; Tho’ in all such affairs I regard you au fait , And reports of this kind will be varied. “ Our love to dear Hetty !” thus runs the command From pa and ma, uncle and Fanny ; And accept all the love that your heart can demand From yours, most devotedly, ANN E. ®ljc (Dorking itlan. PROFESSIONAL AND SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE. Allusion is elsewhere made to the superior advantage of skilled over unskilled labor.— To attain the highest possible skill in the de partment of work in which a man is engaged, should be an honorable ambition. Be not satisfied with performing any branch of labor in a slovenly or barely tolerable manner- try to make your work excel in point of accuracy and taste; strive to improve on old usages ; be anxious to please; for it is by all these means, along with a trustworthy steadiness, that a man gets forward in any profession. The good workman will always command the best price, provided trade is left free, and em ployers are allowed to exercise a discretion. The arrangement enforced in some trades, that the slow and indifferent workman shall be paid equally with the claver and zealous, is an ingenious contrivance to keep down ability, and to bring the world to a dead lev eL But a man should not he satisfied with be ing merely skilled in his handicraft. He ought, if possible, to make himself acquaint ed with the principles of the operations in which he is concerned. If, for instance, he be a dyer, he should not rest contented with knowing exactly what ingredients will pro duce certain tints, but ascertain by inquiry why such is the case. This will cause him SQiSii'MM H.illftlSAili'tf &&&§;?‘If 1 to study practical chemistry ; and in the course of his investigations, he may perhaps make discoveries valuable to himself and the public. Independently, however, of any chance of making improvements in his profession, much good is gained by investigations into first principles. A man who goes through a routine of labor in order to produce certain results’ without knowing why such results are effected, is said to act empirically. He acts just as a machine would act when put in motion. Is there any honor in being like ened to an unreasoning machine? We think not; and it is with the view of rousing work men to a sense of what is becoming in this respect, that we take the liberty of speaking so frankly. Fortunately, there are now few towns in which there are not mechanic’s in stitutions and libaries, through whose aid knowledge the most profitable and agreeable may be acquired. ‘‘The laboring man,” says the Rev. H. Mosely, in his report on Education, “may have been taught many things at school; but practically, that which is associated with the earnings of his daily bread, is that which will remain in his mind. He has found that task, one which, if it did not fill up the full mea sure of his time, occupied at least all his thoughts. To know, then, the secret that lies hidden in the matter on which he works, as sociated as the secret is with his craft; to re flect upon it—to understand it—in secular matters; this is the proper sphere of his knowledge. Let it not be said that it is a narrow sphere. On the contrary, that is a wide domain which is embraced in the knowl edge of any one fragment of the universe, for it is united by great general laws with a knowledge of the whole. Some of such fragment lies before every working man. — To tell him that he is shut out from it the exercise of thought, or that the proper func tions of his intelligence—with respect to se cular things—lie rather in some other path than that, is, to a certain extent, to contravene the order of God’s providence with respect to him. “ Nor need the workman think, however humble be the craft he exercises, or common tlie form of matter on which he is called up on to labor, that the science of it is a thing of small account. Nothing is of small account which comes from the hand of God, or any truth which is a manifestation of the Divine mind. The man who ha£acquired the knowl edge of a law of nature, holds in his hand one link of a, chain which leads up to God. It IS the development of a truth which was pro nounced before the foundations of the world were laid. In the eye of philosophy, the matter which cumbers it fulls off, and it is seen intrinsically as beautiful when coming from one concealment as from another — when developed from the rude fragment of a rock, orTrom a sunbeam—when found in the organization of an insect, or in the mechanism of the heavens.” “ It is in the separation of labor from that science or knowledge which is proper to every form of it, that consists of the degrad ing distinction of a class of the community (in the language of the manufacturing dis trict) as “hands.” “ Hands /”—Men who take a part all their lives long in manufactur ing processes, involving the practical applica tions of great scientific truths, without ever comprehending them—men, who have before their eyes continually mechanical combina tions, the contrivance of which they never take the pains to inquire into—men, in respect to whom the first step has never been made which all these things would have continued, the first impulse given which these would have carried on—men, who, with the subjects of thought all around them, and with every thing to impel them to the exercise of it, nev er exercise thought: and so, the obvious means of their education being passed, they remain always “hands.” “I know how many are the objections rais ed to this view of the functions of education. We are told of the oppositions of matter and mind, and of the circumscribing and deaden ing effects of matter upon thought. As though matter were not full of the elements of thought, and the appointed field for its exer cise to those whose avocation it is to subdue it to the uses of man ; and as though, whilst the power over outward things is enlarged by the exercise of reason and reflection, the in ward life did not also gather strength.” 1 A HINT TO BLACKSMITHS. The cutting of bars of iron or pipes, with a chisel, is a laborious and lardy process. By the following mode the same end is attained more speedily, easily, and neatly—bring the iron to a white heat, and then, fixing it in a vice, apply the common saw, which, without being turned in the edge, or injured in any re spect, will divide it as if it were a carrot. TAILORS. Many eminent men have served their time at tailoring. Thomas Woolman, a native of New Jersey, who first suggested the idea of abolishing the slave trade, wasa tailor by trade. He published much on the subject, and went to Europe to consult distinguished men res pecting the topic, where he died of the small pox in 1772. Sir John Hawkwood —the first English General. —was also a tailor. His historian says of him—“He turned his needle into a sword, and his thimble into a shield.” He died in 1794. In Heddingham there is a mon ument erected to his memory. John Stowe the antiquarian, who died in London about the year 1600, at the age of 80 years, was a tailor. John Speed the distinguished historian, served his apprenticeship at the same trade. Let our tailors be encouraged. Many an eminent man, besides those we have mention ed above, has arisen to usefulnes and honor, from this trade. No class of men among us are more industrious—and very few more in telligent. Southern (Eclectic. ON LEAVING FLORENCE, BY THE LATE RICHAIID HENRY WILDE. Farewell, fair Florence! not, I hope, forever— Once more I yet may see thee—who can tell 1 From thee and thine, it is a pang to sever I had no thought to feel again—Farewell! Florence, farewell! the memories earthly-cherished, Doom’d for long years in my heart’s core to dwell, By Time, and Death, and chance, and change, have perished, Thou and thine only now arc left —Farewell! Farewell! farewell! and if indeed forever— The thoughts untold that in my bosom swell, Can never be forgotten—never, never ! Blessings on thee and thine, Florence—Farewell! Farewell once more ! If the enfranchised spirit May haunt the spot it loved in life so well, Till earth dissolves, with all it doth inherit, Mine shall be with thee, Florence, still —Farewell! 1 THE RAINBOW AND THE CLOUD. AN APOLOGUE. The Spirit of the Storm had swept by on his dark pinions. The elements, which, at his bidding, had joined in fierce though brief conflict, had sunk again to rest; and the suc ceeding calm was the deeper for the tumult. The pall which Nature had flung over the fair sky during the strife, was already half with drawn, revealing in unveiled and freshened splendor the westering orb of day. At this moment there appeared in the East—like an angel of light emerging from the shadows of the tomb—a magnificent Rainbow. Proudly and gracefully it rested on the black horizon, exulting in the perfect development of its ex quisite form, and the beautiful harmony of its hues. Suddenly a cloud passed over, and ob scured a portion of its beauty. The Rainbow, glowing deeply with anger,'thus passionate ly addressed the intruder : “What meanest thou, dark and gloomy thing, by thus casting thy noisome shadows upon my beautiful form ? Wherefore dost thou exist? What purpose canst thou sub serve in the fair and angel-peopled sky ? None, 1 am sure, unless it be to conceal the splendor of more brilliant creatures. Thou passest over the face of the glorious sun, and the warm earth grows chill in the shadow. — Thou hidest the fair moon from the ardent gaze of the poet and the lover! Thou darest to obscure my sevenfold radiance from the ad miring gaze of mortals! Thou robest the smiling sky in sorrow ! Thy form is uncome ly, and all who look upon thy gloomy coun tenance, and thy tattered raiment, wonder, ev en as I do, why thou art permitted to dwell in these pure and lofty regions! The caverns and the dark places of the earth would be fit ter haunts for thee and thy race. 1 would there was no cloud in the sky to pall my sight!” The Cloud stopped his slow-rolling chariot wheels at the harsh and unwonted sound of the Rainbow’s voice, and a darker hue over spread his swarthy features, as he listened to the upbraidings of the fair complainant. But it passed instantly away, and he replied in tones as soft and musical as the murmurings of a zephyr: “Thou art angry with me without a cause, most fair yet ill-judging Rainbow ! Hadst thou but known thine own origin, thou wouldst not ha\e chided me. Hark and gloomy as I am, and presumptuous as it seems for me to appear among the brighter glories of the uni verse, —sometimes veiling their splendor,—[ know that thus it hath pleased the Universal Author to create and appoint me ; and if thou wilt listen a moment to my words, thou wilt learn that He who gave thee thy gorgeous ap parreling, has made thee, also, dependant up on me and my proscribed race for the daily renewal of thy beauty. Thou art, oh fair being, a thing of shadows! the child of the Sunbeam and the Raindrop! The latter is my own offspring; to the former I owe my own existence. Without me thou art not! and when thy present canopy of clouds shall be dispersed, thy proud throne, too, will have passed away.” As he ceased speaking, the breath of the Wind-Spirit scattered the Clouds, and the Rainbow, with all her charms, faded utterly from sight. As the Rainbow is the child of the Storm in Nature, deriving its existence only from the strife of the elements, so is Hope (the Bow of Promise to the sinking soul) the offspring of the storms of life—the sorrows and the trials, and the tears which belong to the lot of our earthly pilgrimage. When the clouds of ad versity gather thickest, and the tempest rages most wildly, Hope for the time is overwhelm ed; but speedily springs up again in beauty, the brighter for the storm! —Orion Magazine. our Boutl of |)uml). A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzroy Timmins live in Lil liput street, that neat little street which runs at right angles with the Park and Brobdignag Gardens. It is a very genteel neighborhood, and I need not say they are of a good family. Especially Mrs. Timmins, as her mamma is always telling Mr. T. They are Suffolk people, and distantly related to the Right Honorable the Earl of Bungay. Besides his house in Lilliput street, Mr. Timmins has Chambers in Figtree Court, Temple, and goes the Northern Circuit. The other day, when there was a slight difference about the payment of fees between the great Parliamentary Counsel and the So licitors, Stoke and Pogers, of Great George Street, sent the papers of the Lough Foyle and Lough Corrib Junction Railway to Mr. Fitzroy Timmins, who was so elated that he instantly purchased a couple of looking-glass es for his drawing-rooms (the front room is 16 by 12, and the back a tight but elegant apartment, 10 ft. 6 by 8 ft. 4,) a coral for the baby, two new dresses for Mrs. Timmins, and a little rosewood desk, at the Pantechnicon, for which Rosa had long been sighing, with crumpled legs, emerald-green and gold mo rocco top, and drawers all over. Mrs. Timmins is a very pretty poetess (her “Lines to a Faded Tulip,” and her “Plaint of Plinlimmon,” appeared in one of last year’s Keepsakes,) and Fitzroy, as he im pressed a kiss on the snowy forehead of his bride, pointed out to her, in one of the innu merable pockets of the desk, an elegantly ru by-tipped pen, and six. charming little gilt blank books, marked “My Books,” which Mrs. Fitzroy might fill, he said, (he is an Ox ford man, and very polite,) “ with the delight ful productions of her Muse.” Besides these books, there was pink paper, paper with crimson edges, lace paper, all stamped with R. F. TANARUS., (Rosa Fitzroy Timmins,) and the hand and battle-axe, the crest of the Timmin ses (and borne at Ascalon by Roaldusde Tim mins, a crusader, who is now buried in the Temple Church, next to Serjeant Snooks,) and yellow, pink, light-blue, and other scent ed sealing-waxes, at the service of Rosa when she chose to correspond with her friends. Rosa, you may be sure, jumped with joy, at the sight of this sweet present; called her Charles (his first name is Samuel, but they sunk that) the best of men ! embraced him a great number of times, to the edification of her buttony little page, who stood at theland ing; and as soon as he was gone to Cham bers, took the new pen and a sweet sheet of paper, and began to compose a poem. “What shall it be about?” was naturally her first thought. “ What should be a young mother s first inspiration?” Her child lay on the sofa asleep, before her; and she began in her neatest hand— LIN E S ON MV SON, BUNGAY DE BRACY GASHLEIGH TYM MYNS, AGED TEN MONTHS. Tuesday. “ How beautiful! how beautiful! thou seemest, My boy, my precious one, my rosy babe ! Kind angels hover round thee, as thou dreamest; Soft lashes hide thy beauteous azure eye which gleam est. “ Gleamest ? thine eye which gleamest? Is that grammer ?” thought Rosa, who had puzzled her little brains for some time with