Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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