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‘•My friend, let me enter; I have a favor
to ask of you;”
44 A favor! If it is money, you have come
to the wrong person.”
‘•No, it is a pair of pistols.”
••You frighten me; what do you mean f
Your face is pale, your eyes haggard. Has
anything happened?”
“I have an affair of honor on hand.”
t; But why are you so agitated ?”
‘•Because I am in a great hurry. They
are waiting for me.”
‘•Have you a second 1 ”
‘•Yes! I want nothing but the pistols.”
•‘Ah, where? Explain to me?”
“My God! if Ido not fall, 1 will explain
all afterwards. But lend me your pistols;
they are waiting for me, I assure you. and I
fear they will interpret badly my delay.”
•• Is your wife informed of this ?”
“For mercy’s sake, do not mention my
wife, if you do not wish to kill me. Go
quick, and bring the pistols.”
The young man dared not enquire further.
He took down a pair of pistols which were
hanging at the head of his bed, and handed
them to Julian, saying—
“My friend, I have a great mind to go
with you.”
••Take care: they would believe that I
brought you to assist in preventing the
duel.”
In pronouncing these words, Julian pre
sented his hand to his friend. “Au revoir,”
said he, with a forced smile, and departed.
Twenty minutes after, he was in the Bois
de Boulogne; he entered the thickest part of
the wood, took one of the pistols, examined
it with a convulsive laugh : his teeth clench
ed, his eyes wandeeing.
44 Behold my last recourse,” cried he, in a
voice as dreadful as the death-rattle. “ Emi
lie ! my father! adieu. But no reflections, or
I shall not have courage to destroy myself.”
He placed the mouth of the pistol three
times against his teeth, and three times his
courage deserted him. At last, with a vio
lent effort, he pulled the trigger, and fell ba
thed in his blood.
[7b be concluded next week.]
fjome (torresprmbew*.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS—NO. 42.
New York, Feb. 20, 1849.
My Dear Sir,--l have gossiped away an
hour very pleasantly, to-night, in the beautr
ful Exhibition Rooms of the “ Gallery of Old
Masters/’ Our Artists are in the habit of
dropping in there, on Wednesday evenings,
particularly ; so that, at such times, you may
be sure to find more or less of them assem
bled. This agreeable impromptu and infor
mal reunion sprung from an amiable fancy of
a waggish friend of mine. He happened,
one night, while musing in the Gallery, and
sighing for some genial companionship, to
think what a nice thing it would be,’ if the
Artists would but meet there at certain hours,
understood among themselves. No sooner
did the idea enter his noddle, than he was re
solved to bring it about. So he at once put
on his beaver, strolled down to the editorial
bureau of a morning paper, and penned a
paragraph, setting forth, in glowing colors,
not the pleasures which such a plan would
secure, but the advantages which had already
resulted from it, as though the thing were a
veritable antique ! Os course, every knight
of the easel who read the article on the en
suing morning, wondered how it happened
that he had never before heard of this habit
of his professional brethren, and mentally re
solved to look into it on the very next occa
sion! On this “very next occasion,” my
friend was of course at the rendezvous, and
with him some dozen or more artists. On
enquiring of each other, if such a re-nnion
3I)JJTiI i; Ji j'J 0IFS& AIE ¥ BA&is TT & ,
was understood, every body was at a loss,
excepting the wag, who relieved the doubts !
of his friends, by alluding to the presence of*:
this, that and the other person, on the pre
vious and lormer evenings—all such visiters,
absentees at the present moment, of course.
On the next night, some of them repeated j
their visit, and with them others—until, at j
length, Wednesday became, by tacit agree
ment. the especial day for their calls at the
Gallery ! The ruse which originated the cus
tom, has never yet been discovered, and is
now, with the author’s consent, first revealed
to the world! As in this practical and pro
gressive age, the slightest tale should have
some useful application, the moral which I
purpose to draw from my anecdote, is some
account of the valuable collection of pictures
which my friend has used as a net for gos
sips—a net in which no one ever regrets be
ing caught.
The Gallery contains some sixty pictures,
by eminent old masters, and a superb collec
tion of engravings, from the most famous
works of past ages. They are the property
of a Mr. Nye, a connoiseui of fortune, who
brought them to New York and exposed them
to the public, in the hope that the city would
purchase them as the foundation of a grand
permanent Gallery of European works of
Art. This laudable hope lias not yet been
realized, and, I very much fear, never will
be. The generous proprietor has, however,
long maintained his exhibition in the most
liberal manner, and at a great sacrifice ; and
within a few days, has even thrown his ele
gant saloon open free to the people —so de
termined is he that his pictures shall not fail
of appreciation for want of being seen and
known. Among the paintings, most of which
are generally admitted to be originals, are the
“Martyrdom of St. Lawrence,” by the great
Titian —a duplicate of the work made for the
Jesuits of Venice : a magnificent “Lot and
his Daughters,” by Rubens, with a “ Holy
Family,” an allegorical piece, and one other
work, from the same illustrious easel; some
Vandykes, Cuyps, Guercinos, Raphaels: two
fine pictures by Murillo; a landscape bv
Poussin, with pictures by Guido lieni, Ber
ghem, Paul Brill, Carlo Dolci, Hogarth, Hans
Holbein, Sir Peter Lely, Parmagiano, Guilio
Romano, Raysdael, Teniers, Velasquez, Wat
teau, Zuccarelli, and others. I might chat
with you for hours upon the beauties of these
chefs d:oeuvre, but I will content myself with
hoping that Fortune will contrive some means
for us, by which we may retain them within
our borders, so that you and your readers
may, when you pay us a visit, see and enjoy
them yourselves: So take my advice when
you come, and pay all due respect to the
“Old Masters.”
While talking of the Arts, permit me to
mention one other matter. If you have any
students in your latitude, who give goodly
promise of success with the pencil, or chisel,
or burin, send them here, where they will
find abundant means of study—a thousand
incentives to the exertion of their best pow
ers. appreciation of their merits, and a stern
but judicious expose of their faults. In the
Antique and Life Schools of the National
Academy of Design, nearly sixty persons,
male and female, have studied gratuitously
during the past season. The session has
been unusually pleasant and successful, both
in respect to attendance and to progress. It
closes this week, to enable the Academy to
make the needed arrangements for the next
Annual Exhibition—the twenty-fourth. The
students, in bidding adieu to the Curator, Mr.
J. F. E. Prud’homme, N. A., purpose to com
pliment him with the gift of an elegant silver
pitcher, in token of their esteem and of their
appreciation of the kind and able discharge
of the duties of his office. All this is, of
course, rosa at present,, but s mention it,,
as it will have transpired before my letter
reaches you.
From talking of the pencil, one’s thoughts
naturally turn to the pen. In literature, our
chief novelties are the admirable lectures
with which Dana, Giles, and other gifted
speakers, are favoring us. Besides my lounge
to-night at the “Old Masters,” I heard a por
tion of Mr. Dana's discourse on 44 Woman.” !
He severely condemned the prevailing dispo
sition in the sex to claim the position belong
ing solely to man —thought it contrary to her
true nature, and that it struck at her charac
ter as Woman ; that it would derange the j
social order of her existence ; that the one- j
ness of the marriage relation would be de- J
stroyed, and the sexes become solita\y when
the dependence and reliance which constitu
ted that unity had ceased to exist : that though
much was heard about equality of lights, the
true vocation of each sex is to work out its
own distinctive character; that notwithstand
ing the scorn which has been exhibited at the !
doctrine of man’s supremacy, no woman was .)
ever capable of exalted love, by whom such
thoughts are not felt to be most uncongenial.
The lecturer regretted the present alarming
thirst on the part of the sex for public dis- j
tinction —a passion which is leading all who
can put a dozen stanzas together, or write a
love song, to be impatient to make themselves
the centre of public gaze. “I pray,” said
the poet in conclusion, “she may not turn i
iconoclast, and break the image of man’s
worship, but will continue the softener of his 1
soul—that she shall not be with us forever
in the broad glory of the hot sun, but when
it is gone down, and the-air is fresh around
our homes, come forth like the twilight star,
which grows brighter in the midnight sky.” j
The “Tribune” yesterday commenced the j
publication of a translation by Charles 11. !
Dana and Bayard Taylor, of Lamartine's
new and much-talked-of work, ‘ Raphael': or
Pages of the Twentieth Year.” The French
Edition, which has just appeared, fills 354
octavo pages. It is a pendant to the 44 Con
fidences,” or auto-biography of Lamartine,
now issued in “La Presse.” and is supposed
to narrate some of the more private expe
riences of the author. The translators are
abundantly competent to their task, and their
version will no doubt be eagerly devoured.
Ticknor & Cos., of Boston, have just put
forth “Leaves from Margaret Smith's Diary,”
purporting to be the chronicles of a lady in
the olden time of long faces and evangelical 1
names, after the manner of Lady Willough
by’s Journal. The union of the allusions
and the antiquated orthography and quaint
diction, give it a capital air of authenticity
and veri-similitude.
The Appletons have published Lord Ma
hon’s History of England, and the Bosto
nians are getting up a “Macaulay” of their
own. Then comes Lieut. Revere’s illustra
ted “Tour of Duty in California”—a bopk
of interest at this time, and especially to the
ciusaders. Next is Shaw’s “English Lite
rature,” a work which every body should
have, offering as it does, the most concise and
clear compendium of the history of the differ
ent epochs and authors of English literature
ever published. Those totally unacquainted
with the subject, may gather from this book
a respectable knowledge of its salient points,
which will prove of immense service in more
detailed study: while the learned will find it
a capital thing in the way of review.
Miss Caroline May is preparing a third
and revised edition of her beautiful volume
of American Female Poets. Though you
give Mr. Griswold the preference in your
book table, yet, here, his great work is not
more esteemed than Miss May’s—which
may arise, though, in some measure, from
| the application of the proverb, “Out of two
; evils,” etc..
Now that I have discoursed duly upon Art
i and Literature, 1 xfill turn for an instant to
1 Science, the remaining item of the triple cap*
| tion of your Journal. The main struggles in
; this department of human invention, are to
I preserve, each man, his equilibrium in walk
ing on ice-covered streets. So intensely cold
lias the weather been for a fortnight past,
and so frequent the snows, that the uave
ments are all encrusted with a coating of ice
and snow, upon which it is difficult to toddle
perpendicularly. I was amused yesterday,
at the peregrinations of a boozy gentleman
over an unusually glassy path. Every third
step he made brought him down, now on his
back and anon on his nose, in such a man
ner as to suggest a capital picture of the ups
and downs of life.
With the assurance that you may rely
upon me in the little matter mentioned in
your last epistle, and that I shall esteem it a
favor if you will command ine upon all occa
sions, I will now relieve you from your read
ing of my forty-second sheet.
FLIT.
(El)c (Essayist.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
SOMETHING ABOUT PUNISHMENT.
BY ABRAHAM GOOSE QUILL, ESQ.
Karo antecelenteni scole-tuin
Deseruit pedj po-iia clauila. —Hon. L. ill. o 2.
The fleeing criminal cannot escape,
For punishment tho’ lame will overtake.
“1 hold the only legitimate end of punish
ment to be to deter from crime. But 1 think
I perceiv e in some of the theories of benevo
lent men such a mode of administering the
criminal law as to encourage instead of deter
ring.”—Lord Denman.
“ By a reformatory system we understand
one in which all \he pain endured, strictly
arises from the means necessary to effect a
moral cure. A prison becomes a hospital for
moral diseases. The prisoner may be called
a patient, while the various officers of the
prison will gradually attain the position in
his mind of persons exercising trie healing
art, and be no longer regarded as the agents
of vindictive power.”— Mr. llill.
Lord Denman represents a class of persons
who believe in the deterring system of pun
ishment. These would punish a criminal
for no other cause than to prevent him and
others from the commission of crime. Mr.
Hill represents another class who favor the
reformatory system of punishment —by which
is meant such a system ot inflicting punish
ment as will reform the criminal!
A third class there are who maintain that
crime should be punished as crime, meetly
because it deserves punishment. Their sys
tem may be termed the vindictive system. —
This class, I apprehend, is not numerous.—
“Vengeance is mine—l will repay saith Je
hovah.” I give the sense, if not the exact
words of the quotation—and this scripture I
deem a sufficient answer to the third class.
The second class, as I have already hinted,
agree with Mr. Hill, that the “reformatory
system in which all the pain endured strictly
arises from the means necessary to effect a
moral cure.” is the only proper system of
! punishment. I fear with Lord Denman that
! this is “such a moJe of administering the
; criminal law as to encourage instead of de
\ ter. v A certain writer contends that ev
| ery one who commits a crime is, to some ex
tent, mentally diseased. Once establish this
j author’s idea of 44 mental diseases,” and Mr.
; Hill’s notion of “moral diseases,” and you
must cut down your gallows’, demolish the
walls of your penitentiaries, and raze your
jails. Let a man commit crime and then pre
tend to be deranged, and send him to Bedlam
’ instead of to Bailey or the scaffold—lei him
commit a misdemeanor and then send him to
Mr. Hill’s “ hospital for moral diseases.
I where he “ may be called a patient, whfte
the various officers of the prison will gradu-
I ally attain the position in his mind of persons
’ exercising the healing art, and be no longer
regarded as agents of vindictivepower" —send
him, I say, to the hospital or lunatic asylum
instead of to the'pemtentiary or scaffold, and
you will administer the penal law in such a
way as to encourage rather than deter viola-
331