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sake of our native sentim ;nta sis wh > profess
tiying for love, as veil a- the foreign roman
ticists who alfeu a love for lying, it may not
he amiss to give a slight sketch of the bearing
of a traveler who iia 1 gone through half the
journey. 1 ha.l been absent som * months,
an J was consequently ignorant of ihe affair,
when lo ! on my return to the town, the very
first person who accosted me in the market
place was our fe!o-ie-se; an t truly, no Bash
ful Man, “with all his blushing honors thick
upon him.” in the presence of a damp stran
ger, coul 1 have been more diverting!y sheep
ish, an l awk war lly back war l in coming for
warl as to in in ner an 1 a 1 Iress. Indeed,
something of the embarrassment of a fresh in
troiuction might naturally be felt by an indi
vidual, thus beginning again, as the lawyers
say, de novo, and renewing ties he had virtu
ally cast off. The guilty hand was as du
biously extended to me as if it had been a
dver’s, —its fellow meanwhile performing sun
dry involuntary motions and manipulations
about his cravat, as if nervously mistrusting
the correctness of the ties or the stability of a
buckle. As for his face, there was a foolish,
deprecatory smile upon it that would have
puzzleJ the pencil of Wilkie; and even Lis
ton himself coul 1 scarcely have parodied the
indescribable croak with whicii, conscious of
an unlucky notoriety, he inquired, “if 1 had
heard” —here, a short husky cough—“of any
thing particular ?”
“ Not a word,” was the answer.
“The i you lo i’t k tow” — m ire fidgetting
about the neck, the smile grew rather sillier, the
voice more guttural, and ‘he cough worse
than ever' —“ then vou don’t know”—hut, like
Macbeth’s amen, the confession literally stuck
in the culprit's throat; and I was left to learn,
an hour afterwards, and from another source,
that “ Jemmy G * * * had fought a luel with
himself, and cut his own weazand, about a
lady.”
For my own par', with the above figure,
an! all its foolish features vividly imprinted
on ray memory, 1 lo not think that I coul 1
ever seriously attempt “what Cato lid, and
A l lison approved,” in my own person. On
the contrary, it seems to me that the English
moralists gave but an Irish illustration of “a
brave man struggling with the storms of fate,”
by representing him as wilfully scuttling his
own ho 1 1, an 1 going at once to the bottom.—
As for the Censor, he plainly laid himself
open to censure, when he used a naked sword
as a stomachic—a very sorry wav, by the
way, when of conjectures, of enjoying
the benefit of the doubt, and for which, were
1 taske l to select an inscription for his ceno
taph, it should be the exclamation of Thisby,
in the Mi dsummer Night’s Dream—
“ This is old Ninny’s tomb.”
Mais revenons a nos moutons, as the wolf
said to her cubs. The reception of mv let
ter in the Dublin Newspaper, encouraged me
to forward a contribution to the Dundee Mag
azine, the Elitor of which was kind enough,
as Winifred Jenkins says, to “ wrap my bit
of nonsence under his Honor’s Kiver,” with
out charging anvthing for its insertion. Here
was success sufficient to turn a young author
at once into a “scribbling miller,” and make
him sell himself, body and soul, after the Ger
man fashion, lo that minor Mephistophiles,
the Printer’s Devil! Nevertheless, it was not
till years afterwards, and the lapse of term
equal to an ordinary apprenticeship, that the
Imp in question became really my Familiar,
in the meantime, 1 continued to compose occa
sionally, and, like the literary performances
of Mr. Weller Senior, my lucubrations were
generally committed to paper, not in what is
commonly called written hand, but an imita
tiaton of print. Such a course hints suspi
ciously of type and antetype, and a longing
eye to the Row, whereas, it was adopted sim
ply to make the reading more easy, and thus
enable me the more readily to form a judge
ment of the effect of my little efforts. It is
more difficult than may be supposed to decide
on the value of a work in MS., and especial
ly when the handwriting presents only a swell
mob of bad characters, that must be severely
examined and reexamined to arrive at the
merits or demerits of the case. Print settles
h, as Coleridge used to say; and to be candid,
I have more than once reversed, or greatly
modified a previous verdict, on seeing a rough
proof from the press. But, as Editors too
w ell know, it is next to impossible to retain
ihe tune of a stanza, or the drift of an argu
ment, whilst the mind has to scramble through
a. patch of scribble scrabble, as stiff asagorse
cover. The beauties of the piece will as nat
urally appear to disadvantage through such a
medium, as the features of a pretty woman
through a bad pane of glass; and without
doubt, many a tolerable article has been con
*‘gned hand over hand to the Balaam box for
of a fair copy. Wherefore, Oye Poets
*od Prosers, who aspire to write in Miscel-
3 B S “i 1 il is Eid I. JTisii Ais ¥ (2 AB&V TANARUS& ♦
lanies, and above all, O ye palpitating untried
who meditate the offer of your maiden essays
to established periodicals, take care, pray ye
take care, to cultivate a good, plain, bold
round text. Set up Tomkins as well as Pope
or Dryden for a model, and have an eye to
your pot-hooks. Some persons hold that the
best writers are those who write the best
hands, and I have known the conductor of a
magazine to be converted by a crabbed MS.,
to the same opinion. Os all things, therefore
be legible; ami to that end, practise in pen
manship. If you have never learned, take
six lessons of Mr. Carstairs. Be sure to buy
the best paper, the best ink, the best pens,
and then sit lown and do the best you can ;
as the schoolboys do—put out your tongue,
and take pains. So shall ye haply escape
the rash rejection of a jaded editor: so, hav
ing got in your hand, it is possible that your
hea i may follow ; an l so, last not least, ye
may fortunately avert those awful mistakes
of the press which sometimes ruin a poet’s
sublimest effusion, by pantomimically trans
forming his roses into noses, his angels into
angles, and all his happiness into pappiness.
(Dur Bowl of Jluncl).
THE MODEL TAILOR.
He is the most confiding of human beings.
He is generous —charitable to a fault —for the
! destitute have only to go to him and ask for
clothes, and they get exactly what they want.
He gives them the best of everything—velvet,
silks, the finest kerseymeres,—nothing too
good for them. He even feels a virtuous
pleasure in the act —and is quite angry if the
person whom he has clothed does not return
to him afterwards, and be measured for anew
suit. Far from repulsing you, he makes you
welcome, and really feels grateful that you
have not forgotten him ! He presses you in
the most tempting manner to have something
new. He has a lovely pattern for a waist
coat —a real Cashmere —it is just the thing
for you. Will you allow him to send you
home one ? He is miserable if you refuse,
so take the waistcoat by all means, and make
the poor fellow happy. He has, also, some
beautiful stuff for trowsers—just arrived fiom
Paris—it would become you admirably—will
yon let him make you a pair J Don’t say
No, or else his generons heart will sink, and
with it his high opinion of you. His philan
thropy, in fact, is unbounded; he does gool
merely for the sake of doing good. All men
are his brothers, with this exception, that he
gives them all they ask, even lends them
money if they want it, and never expects the
smallest return. He is the Gentleman’s best
Friend.
The Model Tailor, sometimes, it must be
confessed, sends in his bill, though payment,
generally speaking, never enters into his
thoughts. But then he is ashamed of the
liberty, and apologises most profusely fi r it.
He is fully sensible that he is doing wrong,
and blushes in his soul for the shabbiness he
is guilty of. It is only that he is terribly dis
tressed for money, or else he would not think
of “troubling” you. He is greatly subject
to that heaviest of all social calamities—a
“little nill.” He asks you, as the greatest
favor, to let him have a “ trifle upon account,”
and leaves you happier than poels can ex
press, if you promise to let him have some
thing in a day or two. Should it be inconven
ient, however, he never presses the point, and
will look in some other time. Should you
express astonishment at his demand—you
cannot have had his bi 1 more than two years
--he excuses himself in the most penitential
manner, and begs your pardon for having
mentioned the subject. The next day he calls
to inquire if you want anything in his way ;
the generous creature forgives as quickly as
he forgets. His anger is only roused when
you leave him to go to another tailor. He is
very jealous of any one else doing a kind ac
tion, and would like to enjoy the monopoly of
all the Schneider virtues. In his anger he
has been known to send a lawyer’s letter ; but
if you go to him, and tell him what you think
of his conduct, and order anew wrap-rascal
he will settle the matter himself, and assure
you that the thing is purely a mistake, and j
that no one can possibly be more sorry for it
than he is.
The Model Tailor takes a pride in seeing
his clo.theson the back of a perfect gentleman.
He knows no higher gratification than when
he is “cutting out” a nobleman. His greatest
enjoyment is going to the Opera, and recog
nizing, from a distance, the Earls, and Mar
quises, and the dashing young Barts, and
Knts, all walking about in the u charming”
coats he has made for them. He throws his
entire soul into his business, and places it
high amongst the Fine Arts, Sculpture except
ed, which he excludes altogeiher, as he can
not imagine lio\!v persons can see any beauty
in Apollo and Venus, dressed as they are. or
how a toga can be considered asuit of clothes
i any more than a table-cloth.
The Model Ta lor has exquisite laste, and
unlimited faith, lie ra ses the figure of ev
ery one of his customers, an 1 never loubtsany
one till after four years credit. He strives
his utmost to conceal the eccentricities of a
pair of parenthetical legs, and spares no cloth
for fattening every miserable lean call that
comes under his parental shears. He disowns
! fox’s hea ls and four-in-hands, an 1 such va
: garies upon saucer buttons, an 1 does not en
courage the style of dress invented by the
“stable mind.” He warrants to fit anything,
and boasts though not much given to joking,
of having made a dress-coat for a corkscrew.
He does not recommend things to wash, that
are sure to leave their complexion behind
them in the first wash-tub, nor make a prac
tice of registering his straps, his belts, button
j holes, and every little article of costume. He
S estimates men, not by their measures but his
own, and in his tailors’ eyes he is the best
man who turns out the best after lie has been
I well-dressed by him once or twice, tie des
pairs of Lord Brougham ever being a great
j man, but has great hopes of Prince Albert.
The Model Tailor rarely makes a fortune,
unless he has been very unfortunate through
life. An insolvency just puts him straight;
a first bankruptcy leaves him a handsome
surplus, and a secon 1 one enables him to retire.
The sal truth is, that the simple child of Eve
knows he owes all his business to the fact of
her bitting the apple, and he has not the heart
to distress any son of A lam for the clothes
he wears. Perhaps he feels that it would be
like pocketing the wages of sin. His as
signees, therefore, are obliged to collect his
debts for him, and accordingly, theoftener he
fails, the richer he becomes. He buys, in
his old age, a huge estate, with a small title
upon it, somewhere in Germany, and leaves
his “goose” to be cooked by somebody else,
universally regretted by all those customers
who have known him since the date of his
last fiat. He dies a contented Baron. Os
a!l tradesmen, there is not one so estimable,
so incredulous, so generous, so beloved, when
you meet with one, as the Model Tailor.
LOGIC OF DEBT AND CREDIT.
The Morning Chronicle has a long article
on the law of Debtor and Creditor. The es
say is finely conceived and logically conduct
ed; imparting to to the trading world in gen
eral one unexpected comfort. For instance,
“at this moment,” credit is in a most whole
some condition. Hear the Chronicle —
“ At this moment, not less than nineteen shillings
in the po ind of everybody’s money is fructifying or
evaporating, as the case may be, in the pockets of
somebody else.”
Now as nineteen shillings in everybody's
pound is one in the pockets of somebody else,
it follows that everyboly must owe every
body nineteen shillings; and as everybody
owes nineteen shillings, and everybody has
nineteen shillings io receive, why everybody,
in fact, owes everybody nothing.
PASSENGER-CATCHING IN THE
PARKS.
This very pleasant amusement is much in
dulged in during the summer months, by the
Park-keepers. Their orders are to shut the
gates at nine, and the fun of the game turns
on this arrangement. They allow passengers
to enter by all the gates up to the last mo
ment. Then as the clock strikes nine, the
gates are all closed at once, and the passen
gers secured. Their first rush in opposite di
rections is very amusing, as are their subse
quent attempts to scale the palings, which be
sides being difficult, is forbidden by law. Thus
if they escape being im'paled, they are pretty
sure to fall into the hands of a policeman out
side, and to spend their night in the station
house. The only other alternative is to pass
their night in the open air, under a tree. —
Some malicious persons, envying the Park
keepers this innocent amusement, have pro
posed as a change, that instead of the gates
being closed simultaneously, no person shall
be allowed to enter them after a certain hour,
but that they shall remain open for egress till
some time later than the hour fixed for shut
ting them. It is obvious that with snch an
arrangement no passengers would be caught,
and a very deserving class of public servants
would thus be deprived of a harmless and ex
hilarating recreation.
mm
Imfortaht Truth. —Sheridan
wrote: “ Women govern us. The more they
are enlightened, bo much the more we shall
be. On the cultivation of the minds of wo
men, depends the wisdom of men.”
3iT'U)spaj)er Analects.
THE TWO SPRINGS.
Two springs which issued out of the same
mountain began their course together; one of
them took her way in a silent and gentle
flowing stream, while the other rushed along
with a noisy and rapid current.
“Sister,” said the latter, “at the rate you
move, you will probably be dried up before
you advance much further; whereas, for my
self, 1 shall probably become navigable with
in two or three furlongs, and after distributing
commerce an l wealth wherever I flow, I shall
majestically proceed to pay my tribute to the
ocean. So farewell, and patiently submit
yourself lo your fate.”
Her quiet sister made no reply, but calmly
descended to the mea low below, and patiently
proceeding on her way, she increased her
strength by numberless little rills, which she
collected in her progress, till at length she
was enabled to rise into a considerable river;
while the proud stream who had the vanity
to depend solely upon her own sufficiency,
continued a shallow brook, and was glad at
last, to be helped forward, by throwing her
self into the arms of her despised sister! Be
fore honor is humility.
1 ■ i
RUSSIAN MANNERS.
As the means of enforcing the attendance
of witnesses are unknown in Russia, except
ing by keeping them secure, persons whose
testimony is required are actually confined
till their services arc needed. Nowto brave
imprisonment, even in furtherance of the ends
of justice, is beyond the ordinary bounds of
patriotism : hence a tumult in the street, or a
crime committed on the highway, is the sin
nal for every passenger to fly in a contrary
direction, in order to avoid the duty of giving
evidence, which in other countries strengthens
the arm of justice. Thus humanity suffer*
by this iniquitous abuse of arbitrary power ;
since to witness a transaction is equivalent to
being particeps criminis; and further, to ren
der assistance in case of accident, illness, or
sudden death in the street, involves the hu
mane person in the most dangerous responsi
bility ; for a person found with a corpse must
account for the death, and clear from
the suspicion which his presence inevitably
attaches to him. Ignorance, besotted ignor
ance, increases that hardness of heart and
apathy to suffering which this dreadful regu
lation has made habitual to every Russian.-
A few days since, as I was walking through
one of the principal streets, a respectably
dressed man before me staggered and fell.—
Like the Levite in the parable, I, with the
other passengers, “ passed over on the other
side ;” but I stood at a distance and watched
the result. I saw ass passed the man, that
it was a case of apoplexy, and that with im
mediate attention he might probably have re
covered ; but no, in opposition to the com
monest dictates of reason, an inferior police
man, who was attracted to the spot, not dar
ing to act without the authority of his super
ior, threw a cloth over the man’s face, and
left him to perish by suffocation while he
went for help. The delay, to say nothing of
the application of the cloth, was fatal. —Life
in Russia.
AN ODD CALCULATION. •
What a noisy creature would man be were
his voice in proportion to his weight, as loud
as that of a locust 1 A locust can be heard
at the distance of 1-16 of a mile. The golden
wren is said to weigh but half an ounce; sc
that a middling sized man would weigh down
not short of 4,000 of them; and it must be
strange if a golden wren would not outweigh
four locusts. Supposing, therefore, that a
common man weighs as much as 16,000 of
our locusts, and that the note of a locust can
be heard 1-16 of a mile, a man of common
dimensions, pretty sound in wind and limb,
ought to make himself heard at the distance
of 1,600 miles ; and when he sneezed “hi*
house ought to fall about his ears.” Suppos
ing a flea to weigh one grain, which is more
than its actual weight, and to jump one and a
half yards, a common man of 150 pounds,
with jumping powers in proportion, could
jump 12,000 miles, or about the distance from
New York to Cochin China. Aristophane*
represents Socrates and his disciples as deep
ly engaged in calculations of thiskind around
a table oh which they are waxing a flea’*
legs to see what weight it will caTry in pro
portion to its size, but he does not announce
the result of their experiments. We are,
therefore, happy in being able to supply, ii
some degree, so serious an omission.
** The race of life becomes a hopeleee flight
To those who walk in darkness.” —Chyde Jfarcid.
117