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Tiie ftittli was the centre; the sun, moon,
and fivo planets were shining bodies revolv
ing about it, to give it light, and the stars were
I'j ii.naries bung up as lanij>s in a vaulted sky.
Tais philosophy not only l:e3 at the founda
tion of the imagery, under which Homer rep
resents tltc heavens, but it prevailed so long,
and fails in so entirely with the impressions
made upon the eye, that it has given a charac
ter to the traditionary language of poetry
even to the present day. Shakspeare, and
Spenser, and Milton, as we have just seen, in
th’s respect, draw their images from the same
source as Virgil, (lomer, and Hesiod.
‘Now I cannot but think, that, when the
sublime discoveries of modern astronomy shall
have become as thoroughly wrought into the
vocabulary and the intelligence of the commu
nity, as the humble and erroneous conceptions
of the ancients, the groat and creative minds
will derive fibril them, a vastly grander range
of poetical ilTustratfoii. I cannot TAt'think,
that, by the study 'cf this one science alone,—
thought, speech, and literature will be wonder
fully cxhalted. It is not in reference to poet
ry, a mere mutter of poetical imagery. Toe
ideas formed of divine wisdom and power,—
and infinite space,—of stupenduous magni
tude and force, —of the grandeur and hanuo
ny of the material universe,—are among the
highest materials of thought and the most
prolific elements of poetical conception. For
this reason, in the same proportion in which
the apparent circuit of the heavens has been
enlarged and the science of astronomy ex
tended by the telescope, the province of im
agination and thought must be immeasurably
extentended also. The soul becomes great
by the habitual contemplation of great objects.
As the discovery of anew continent, upon
the surface of the globe by Columbus, gave a
niost powerful impulse to the minds of men
iu every department, it is impossible that the
discovery of worlds and systems of worlds,
in the immensity of space, should nbt won
derfully quicken the well instructed genius.
As the ambition, the avarice, the adventure, the
legion host of human passions rushed out
from the old world upon the new, so the fan
cy must wing its way, with unwonted boldness,
into the new-found universe,
Beyond the solar walk or milky way.
‘ In Paradise Lost, there is a struggle be
tween the bid and new philosophy. The tel
escope was known, but had not yet revolu
tion zed the science of astronomy. Even
Lord Bicon did not adopt the Copernican sys
tem, and Galileo’s wonderful instrument had
produced scarce any result, beyond a move
distinct conception of the magnitudes of the
bodies, which compose the solar system. But
is pleasing to remark, with what promptness
Milton seizes upon this new topic of poetical
illustration. 111 his very first description of
the arch-fiend, we arc told of
his ponderous shield,
IT;here.nl temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hungon his shoulders, like the moon, whoso orb,
Through optic glass, the Tiiscan artist views,
At evening from the top of Fesolc,
Or in Valdurno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spot ry globe.
‘ Grand and sublime as is t'.vs imagery, It is
borrowed from the lowest order of the won
dors unfolded by the telescope. I cannot but
think, if the whole circle of modern astrono
my had lrecn disclosed to the mind of Milton,
that it would have filled his soul with still
.brighter visions. Could he have learned, from
the lips of its great discoverer, the organic law
which regulates tile entire motions of the heav
ens ; —could he have witnessed the predicted
return of a comet, and been taught that of
these mysterious bodies, seven millions are sup-
V9sed to run their wild career within the orbit
of the planet Uranus; and that, by estirna- j
tion, one hundred millions of stars, each prob- I
ably the centre Os a system as vast as Our Own,
—multitudes of them combined into mighty
systems of suns wondrously complicated with
each other—are distributed throughout space,
would these stupenduous views have been lost
o 1 hii mind ? I can never believe that truth,
Bie great quickener and inspirer, revealed in j
such majestic glimpses, would have fallen in- I
Operative on such an intellect. He would
have awoke to anew existence in the light of
such a philosophy. Escaping from the whol
lv false, and the partly false, the “utter and
middle darkness” of the Ptolemaic system,
ho would have felt the “sovereign vital lamp”
of pure science iu his inmost soul. lie would !
!*.ave borrowed from La Place the wings of
hhe boldest analysis, and would have flown to
the uttermost parts of creation, where he cOuld
have seen through the telescope the bands
Orion loosened, and the gems of his glittering
belt blazing out into empyreal suns; white
crowded galaxies, “ powdered with stars”
rushed asunder into illimitable systems. lie
would have soared with the Herschells, father
and son, to the outer regions of space and
embalmed the whole Newtonian philosophy in
bis immortal verse.’
Os a similar cheering tendency, and pertinent to the
same argument, is the lollowing passage, from a differ
ent part of the Address. We can hardly say, whether
it is more suited to charm by its beauty, or to exalt by
the etheria! sublimity of the views it presents:
4 A continued progress in the intellectual
world is consistent with all that we know of
the laws that govern it, and with all experience.
A presentiment of it lies deep in the soul of
man, spark as it is of the divine nature. The
craving after excellence, the thirst for truth and
beauty, has never been, —never can be,—ful
ly slaked at the fountains, which have flowed
beneath the touch of the enchanter’s wand;
Man listens to the heavenly strain, and straight
way becomes desirous of still loftier melodies,
it has nourished and strengthened instead of
satiating his taste. Fed by the divine aliment
lie can enjoy more, he can conceive more, he
can himself perform more.’
[CONCLUDED IS OCR NEXT.)
STEAM-BOAT ANECDOTE.
At the bursting of a boiler, a stout Yankee
plunged into the river and saved the life of the
captain. As soon as they reached the shore,
the captain was prolific of thanks to the pre
server oflfis life. “Save your thanks, my
hearty,” said the other, “ for I only saved you
from the water in the hope that I should have
the pleasure of seeing you hanged for the wil
iul murder of your passengers.”
The editor of the New York Herald, in one
of his recent letters from'London, says:
“ Anew mode of applying steam has been
1 invented, which will do away with horse pow
er entirely on canals. On the day of the
launch last week, a small boat of forty tor s
was passing the river, without paddles or sails.
Site had a high pressure engine on board ; and
there she went through tire water, puff, puff,
puff, puff, without indicating any other symp
tom of motive power, or even a single ripple
disturbing her course.
“It seems that she has under her bottom a
single paddle, in the shape of a screw, with
one turn only. To this screw is given a rota
ry motion by the steam engine—and is motion
| propels her through the water, without crea-,
! ting a single ripple on the surface around the
boat. An experiment was made last week on
the Surry Canal, and it succeeded beyond all
expectation. 1 saw the little boat myself,
"moving like a liying ereaturre over the dirty
bosom.of tie Thames. Titeie 8 now no.
doubt of [lie e: t ie success of the plan, and in l
less than a eoy;>)e of Tears I expect to s6e the
whole length of the Erie Canal navigated by
steam power, without injuring at all itsTjanks.
One such steam-boat as I saw could take a
train of thirty canal boats, at a speed of six
miles an hour.”
Sebtt ih his Dairy, gives the follbwing stri
king instance'of “the ruling passion strong tit
death:” Mr, ——a Master ii Chancery, w-as
on his death bed—a fery’wealthy 1 man. Some
'occasion bf great urgency occurred, in which
it was necessary to make an affidavit,. and the
attorney,missing ohe or two .other. Masters,
when he inquired after, ventured tb ask if Mr.
——wbuld be able to receive the deposition.
The propbsal seemed tb give him momentary.
strength ; his clerk w;\s sent for, and the oath
taken in due form. The Master was lifted
up in bed, ahd with difficulty, subscribed the
paper; as he sunk down again, he made a
signal to his clerk—“ Wallace?” “Sir.”—
“Your.ear —lower—lower. Have you. got
the halj crown ?” Mo died before'nlfcfning.
fIUELS.
With respect to duels, indeed, I have my
own ideas. Few things, in this so surprising
world, strike rife wth more surprise. Tfro
1 ttle visual spectra of men, hovering within
secure enough cohesion in the midst of the
Unfathomable, and to dissolve therein, at any
rate, very soon, —make pan e nt t' e distance
of tweHc patqs asunder ; whirl round; and
sitfihlfhrtcously, bv the cunningcst mechanism,
explode one another into dissolution ; ami off
hand, become air and non-existent ! Deuce
on it—the little spit-fires! Nnv, I think, with
old Hugo von Trin berg: “God must needs
laugh outiight, could such a thing be, to see
bis wondrous manikins here below.”
Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus.
STEAM-HORSE.
A gentleman in England has constructed a
steafn-hbrse: so says one of their papers.
The comforts and conveniencies of such a
contrivance are, we think, very obvious. Gen
tlemen nice about matching their horses, Will
have nothing to do but send their own pattern
to the japamter, and they may have any color, 1
from scarlet to sky-filde. A wkard Whips will
drive like our choicest artists, without, any
tnbre.'trouble than that of holding a rudder.
Timid geriltenfon may have a “cab” that will
not start or ding-out, and to the romantic, the
whole romance of guiding fiery chargers by a
pin in the forehead, may lie realized in perifec
tibn, at tile rate of six-pense a sbar. All the
old ri.i nicies of locomotion, the arrow of Aba
ris, the car of Phaeton, the flying serpents of
Triptolemus, the gryphons of tlie Arab magi
cians, and the wishing-cap of Fortunatus will
be tardy an 1 trifling to the steam-horse. There
is one objection, However—he is liable to be
IdOWTt. luinday MotTfiflg ?7ew>.
RISE OF LAKE ERIE.
It is stated in the Cleveland Gazette of Sat
urday that the waters of Lake Erie, at that
point, are at least three and a half feet higher
than they were three years ago, and one arid
a half feet above the level last year. A rise is
also saiii to be observable fri the waters bf the
Upper Lakes. Heie (says that paper) is a
problem for men of science to solve, if they
can. Is there Irut.h in the popular notibn of a
rise and fill—a tide—once jn seven years?
Are then; any authenticated facts or observa
tions indicating such a tide? It strikes us
that the phenomenon! is a curious one, and
worth investigating.
IfilSH MODE OF KEEPING ACCOUNTS.
when a laborer can write, he keeps accounts
in writing; if he can’t write, he keeps a tally
—that is. a stick split up—one part being kept
by the fanner; for every day we put a ridteh
or stroke dn the stick ; sometimes the farmer
docs ndt put a ndten or stroke on bis stick, and
at the ‘end, when we are counting up, if the
tallies don’t agree, makes us go to a magis
trate and take bur bath ; hut if there is one or
two days between ns, we lose the days, be
cause we don’t think it worth while to go t’d
the magistrate about therm
Binn's Miseries and Beaudos of Ireland.
%
From the Microcosm.
We come with the breath of the early spring;
And the step of the delicate-footed May
Is over the beauty and odor we bring,
To crown the queen of her festal day.
We bear the vows of the parted lovers,
And whiiper in accents that none can o'er hear,
And the trusting heart in each flow’r discovers
The breath of a sigh', or the beam of a tear.
W e crown the cup in the hour of mirth;
Yet deck not the halls of splendor only;
For we spring by the cottager’s humble hearth,
To cheer the hearts of the sad and lonely.
We love to twine o’er the early tomb,
Where the loved and the lost ones of earth are
sleeping;
And deck the turf with our transient bloom,
While affection its vigils of love is keeping.
LELA.
“ Do not bite at the bait of pleasure,” says a
certain writer, “ till you know there is no hook
beneath.”
From the New Yorker.
Messrs. Editors: —l have an old walnut
[ chest, with tlie feet sawed off, the till of which
I make a receptacle for such of my thoughts
oa matters and things as I sometimes commit
to piper. It is riot kept in very neat order,
and might with justice be termed a depot for
literary matter. Whenever I wish to take a
view of my former opinions, or recall an idea
that has escaped my memory, I have recourse
to mv trash drawer. I thus can while away
a leisure hour— not without profit—for it nat
urally disposes one to examine onc’s-self, and
holds up to us the mirror of what we have
been. If experience and riper intellect ena
ble us to detect errors of our earfier days, we
may thus lie induced to view our present opin
ions with more distrust, and our conversation
and actions consequently will be guarded with
a greater degree of prudence.
But to return to the old chest. I have no
ticed for some time that a (ertuin species of
writing is “ being” fashionable—such as
“Shreds and Patches”—“Meins, Thoughts
and Observations,” <kc. &e. I also (to be in
fashion) have an idea of making extracts from
my “ till,” and submit them to your judge
ment whether they are befitting tjie taste bf a
port 011 bf your readers. First, I Hvill send
you a transcript of one or two fragments
w lic'i arc not yet deposited in the “ till.” Rest
Assured, they will nevertheless be put there for
safe keeping, lie their fate wheh they Teach
ybur desk as It may.
From the “th l”' of 'my Walnut Chest.
“motes” and “beams.”
I met wth a'sting little piece of inconsist
ency the other day, while perusing a short
paragraph on “ Mystification.” Tlie writer
complained of, or rather, declaimed agaitist,
tlie practice of young writers risiiig a “ sKfle
which must needs be decyphefed out like hi
eroglyphics on some Egyptian obelisk,” as
though they thought it vulgar tb use a style
tiiat c'oqld lie understood by the “common
herd.” 'I considered him right; But to prove
his reasoning, he in the sariie instanfquotes a
string pf Lain. Now, how arc we common
folks, who Received our education in lbg sch’obl
h’ouses,, and had rib means cf acquiring a
knowledge of, tlie dead 1 labtillages, to under
stand Latin ’ I conceive it to be not only un
charitable, but it betrays a large share of van
ity, when a writer of newspaper paragraphs
(which should meet the eyes bf the whole
community—learned and unlearned—and be
understood by all.) interlards hjs style with
language not comprehended by the cbmriien
By the way, I do not use the jib rase “com
mon people” invidiously. I am a true Re
publican—if a person may be his own vouch
cr. Yet, Ido not concede that every man
who smokes a “long nine” and wears “jeans”
is a real Democrat.
******
PRACTICAL preaching.
I have often thought that our ministers of the
gospel would render much more good service
to society ifthey would preach more practical
sermons. Instead of descanting all the time
on doctrinal pbints and matters entirely spirit
ual, would they give their hearers more fre
quent adtrionuions Knd advice respecting tfieir
intercourse with their fellbws—would they'ex
hort them tb be hotferable and just in their
dealings—to be punctual in their engage
ments—tc pay what they owe—“ tb tlie Prin
ter first, and then tb tlie Missionary Society”
—and not tb be Regardless of tbe extent to
wh eh they involve themselves, in a pecuniary
point of view, when there is a dull prospect
of getting out of difficulties. Thrtt distress,
mortification and chagrin will be their deserts
if any other course of conduct is pursued
than the straight-forward one.
These temporal things should not be over
looked. There is much rational and lawful
enjoyment even in this life, and for which
man shOWs himself rtnthankful by refusing to
avail himself of it. Tlie constant holding
forth that “all is drrtss,” and that there is nb
pleasure worth tlie pursuit in this World, has
nb good effect, when the bountiful hand bf
Providence, visible in surrounding objects,
gVes the lie tb such assertions. Is not much
of tlie indifference with which many regard
their actions and cdnduct in life attributable
to the exhortations they have had to hate the
world ? Is it not impious in the extreme thus
to treat the handiwork of the Creator with
desecration ?
Whilst the clergy are pcrforVriing their sa
cred functions in preparing souls for eternity,
let them more frequently point out to their
fellbXv pilgrims a wise course of conduct in
thei r present, as one means of ensuring a hap.
py future state. . i. S.
Balhport, O. June, 1838.
internal improvement.
The public mind in Georgia is aroused,
awakened, arid active upon this subject. Nor.
will tbe suffered again to slumber’. Men bf
talents, of energy, arid bf ariiple means, have
inVe-tigafed tlie Subject,,have become fully
convinced of the pructifcriDility and facility bf
building roads and cutting ‘canals in the South
—jf the incalcrilablb benefit which Will accrue
therefrom to Southern commerce, agriculture,
manufactures, and tnechanics; and cf the
immense stream of Wealth Which wbuld con
tjnunlly pour itself into the Treasury of each
State; and these men are determined to ex
haijst their sources of all kinds, and to spend
and be spent, in the great, glorious, and patri
otic cause of Internal Improvement. No
.‘•Wronger incitement, nb exahipfe. hiorte power
ful ifeea be wanted by such individuals, than
tlie undying reputation left behind him by De
Witt Clinton. Statesmen and orators, schol
ars and poets, mayclimb the rugged steep bf
fame, blit none will stand (ippti ils summit
more proudly acknowledged, ny civilisation
and improvement, than him, whose genius lift
ed the flood-gates of wealth upon his native
State, and poured into lier lap inexhaustible
treasures.
Jp Thomas Butler King, Esq. a gentleman
who has devoted a great deal of time and at
tention to this subject, and who is well read in
the improvements of the day, and full of the
spirit which prompts them, favored us with a
visit last week, and delivered an address with
which we wore pleased, as displaying n vast
deal of information, w ith regard not only to
whttt had been accomplished, but what is new
doing and may yet be done, for the benefit of
Georgia and the South generally.
We would most cheerfully devote a larger
space to this interesting and important sub
ject, but we are crowded with advertisements,
and necessarily compelled to curtail our edito
rial.
In closing this article, we beg leave to add
a few words which on a previous occasion we
addressed to our reader :
“ Whether our State shall live and flourish,
or whether she shall languish and dye, un
doubtedly depends upon the progress of that
great system of Internal Improvenict t already
begun. Shall it be fostered, su ;ta n ;d, and
encouraged, or shall it be abandoned ? We
trust that, hereafter, this question will be car
ried tip to tlie ballot-box, throughout the State,
and there let the vbice of independent freemen
speak new life into the system of Internal Im
provement, and bid it gc on prospering and to
prosper. Columbus’ Sentii:cl & Herald.
ORIGINAL.
For tiie Southern Posh
THIRD LETTER OF WILLAM BARLOW, ESQ. TO
HIS COUSIN ROBERT.
The Female Examination.
'Pear CWrin Bob: —l’ve had the “blues”
so bad these last tw o weeks that I have not rit
a single letter to any one ; hut'l kin soon tell
you howl got over them—without medisin.
So you see. I herd there was a goin to be a
greut'Female Examination and Exibition, not
a hundred miles'from Dooly, .and want in to
kribw what these things was, 1 went over to
neighber Reynolds’ tb ask his son Jimmy his
’pinion bn them. Jimmy is a fine fellow, and
has had sonic schoblin tb mend up a prettv
good nafful fhind, so his ’pinion bn subjects
beyond'iriy comprehension js always as good
as late rind gospel to me. Well, Jimmy told
nfe, that it was “an examination of gals in
studies, and an exhibition of gals in fine
clothefe ;” arid he further said that “the exhi
bition "would Be tlie best attended, since the gals
thought more of it than tlie examination, and
the young men’s ideas and wishes Went no far
ther than to g lie at the exhibition,'the other
bein too deep or too dull for their notice.” I
told hi in that 1 wanted tb see them, and that I
wteiited Itim to go arid explain till things about
’em that I could not understand. I. was not
ashamed, Bob, to let him know that I Was ig
norant, for two reasons—first, Because if I do
not know a thing 1 never will’know it unless l
try to find it but ; "which brings to my mind
somethin I heard of an old plnlosofer nam’d
Locke, who, when ask’d how he conic to know
so much, said that he never was ashamed to
ask a school boy the meaning of that winch lie
did not know himself. Secondly, because the
effort to conceal ignorance often betrays it,
thereby suhjectin the fx>l to the contempt of
the truly wise. My wishes seemed to put Jim
my in a brown study, and after a while he says,
“ The curiosity manifested by a man of your
advanced age, settled in life, and tied to one
spot by various relations, excites my wonder.”
’(I endeavbr, Boh, and will throughbut this let
ter endeavor to giVe'Jimmy’s words exactly.)
“ What principle in tlie mind so strong.” says
he. “ Anger soon dies, love soon expires—
even deep-rooted hatred is removed ; but cu
riosity, a world-dart’ffthfg agent, a lieaven-aspi
rrrig power lives a chain betw'een earth and the
skie&—-mbrtality and immortality. Its eye ex
plores the central regions cf earth, and scans
high radiant worlds, then vainly tries to——”
What the dickens has that to do with the sub
ject ?” says I. “Why,” says Jimmy, a lit
tle flurried by my dragging him from the stars
so unserrimoniously, “The same principle
which actuates you in small tilings, actuates
great men in great things ; and I was only ex
pressing a few reflections which were sugges
ted by your curiosity,'arid so tell you the truth,
judging from ybur greafeuriosity, I Believe that
you, in older age, will lean over the grave and
with the carte that supports vour feeble frame,
measure its depth’, and feel its cold Bed, to see
how it feels ; and tenen you are in it, you will
want tb peep lower to see what sort of a place
hell is.” Nbt I, mart, not I ; you are mista
ken altogether, 1 have nothin tb do with ybur
central regins of the earth, and expeciaflv its
central fires. After Jimmy got through his
zuberation, he said lie wbuld start with 'me in
the mornin. Take it for granted, Bob, that
the mbriiiit has come, and Jimmy and! are bn
our way rejoicing; Jimmy drest right spruce,
arid I on old Soap Sticks with stufled saddle
bags across his back, as strait "as a fence rail.
We had’nt gone far before \ve overtook old
widow Singleton in lier old gig, without top or
springs, dragged by as poor a carcas as ever
eat grriss. Site stretched a mazin big Umbril- !
ler, made out of red check’d ginghams, her ;
hbnnet cock’d up Before, and a white hanker
chief pined just under her chin, will give you
some notion of the sight. “ How do you do,
Squire, this morning ?” says she, as she lifted
her specks oll’her nose. Pretty well, 1 thank
you, sa-ys I, only I’m troubled with the ‘ blues’
a little. “ Well, how’s your family ?” All on
foot, bul nbt to say well, says I. “ Well,
Squire,” says she, “ I’ve heard that tlie ‘blues’
come from a derangement of the corprul sys
tem, and I’ve often hearri that fetherlew and
comfry, mash’d together, with a little salt and
red flannel, or any red string so it aint cotton,
with vinegar, is good for it.” 1 dont like vin
egar, says I, for vinegar and pickles have caus’d
the whole of it. “ Well try No. 6, it will
steam you mid cure you too.” “ Well, mad
am,” says Jimmy, “ let me say wliat t think,
vinegar and pickles have inflamed the Squire’s
stomach, and c aus’d a depression of spirits ;
yon advise him to take vinegar, which is the
evil, to cure its own mischief; and No. 6 be
ing ten times worse than vinegar, it would not
only influmc it more, but tlie steam would car
ry him to the grave faster than Rail-Road
steam would carry him to Augusta. Impru
dence on the part of the Squire, and ignorance
on the part of root Doctors, would soon ”
“Settle his hash, you would say, Mr. Whatcv
er-your-name-is ?” says old widow Singleton ;
“ 1 know,” continued she, “star grass and
ground ivy, and mullen tops, and dock root,
and many other yerbs, are good for diseases
such as, tcethin, stone-bruises, ringworms, and
but Lordy mercy, Squire, have you
heard the report that’s out about poor Sukey
Western, poor thing, I know 1 pity her, if its
true ; but it comes from such a good source
we cant doubt it, poor tiling; but tlien I’ve
heard it from so many honest people that it
must be so, poor thing.” Well, what is it ?
says I, “ Why Betsey Rollin told Kezziah
Thompson, and she told Sally Baldwin, and
Sally told Lofty Simons, that Sukey Western
had anew bonnet, and no one could tell how
she come by it honestly.” Well, says I, tell
me how Betsey Rollin knew it. •* Why
S juire, I cant zactly say, but I heard that old
Western’s Phillis told Mr. Rollin’s Jimmy, and
Jimmy told Betsey.” Well, says !. if every
one of you were in jail you would’nt be pun
islieJ enuff, for I saw Betsey when she was go.
in to town, with cloth that she made with her
own hands, and I saw her when she gave tlai
cloth for the bonnet. “ Well,” says the old
h ig full of and sappointment, “ I saw Betsey mv ? -
self—hut I w > t ft I! you, you wont believe it,
but I know who I can tell.” Just then I rode
a little ahead of the old thing’s nag, and Soap
not having been introduced to his acquaiq.
tance, introduced himself bly placing his huffs
.under the old feller’s chin iu sich a manner,
that he lifted his head into the air, held it a se
cond up, and tlien fell to the ground, gig and
passenger, all in the dust. and sud.
den elevation of old Soap’s hind feet, threw
me it [km his shoulders, ami the saddle-bags ife
ing unfastened, were gently lifted and placed
across my neck ; hat in one hand, saddle-hags
under brie arm, the reins upon old Soap’s neck,
spurs in. his ■ ides to hold on, l hung to the olcl
coon, as he scowered a neighboring field at the
top of bis speed, untij he tired down and could
not run any more. Jimmy was down on the
ground a laughing-—the old lady up, a covor
tin, with her old umbriller over Her—-But which
In the mash of bones and crush of gigs
had been turned inside out, uNactty in tlie shape
of a wine-glass. As good, luck would have it,
her bbv Sam was returnin from the mill, so wo
left the wreck to Sam and went bn ; Jimmy
said that lie could’nt pity such an old tell-tale
even in misfortune ; then, as usual, he com.
menced philpsophiziii, by savin, that “ Wo.
man was tlie greatest riddle in the world—kind,
gentle, lovely, and loving, forbearing, angejip,
noble, trunk, honest, pure—yet rough, wild,
disgusting, full of hatred, envy, malice, impa
tient devilish in di ;[fes.tioii,_tnean, deceitful,pol
luted, corrupted, sunk beyond reclaim in vied,
in infamy, in all that cun degrade.” Says I,
you dont see all these in one woman ! “ No,”
says he, “ I mean, that while some are angels
others are worse than brutes: Tis not so in
man ; there are not the extremes of purity
and pollution in him ; he is noble—he is mean.
But wonvih’s excellence is more precious than
jewels—her depravity unsurpassed in hell.”—•
No wonder, says 1, for when she starts down
hill, men, women and children give her a kfek
as she goes,.and keep kickin till she is lower
than depravity itsfilf i and when she is clean
down, she is so battered and brutjqd, and dirty,
that a hundred years wouldn’t put hqr on top
of the hill again, nor a thousand rains wash hqr
clean. Jist then we came in sig! tof the place
where the scoal was, and the sun was about
an hour high ; carriges were rattlin about the
streets full of galls, in white dresses, with blue
and pink ribbonshabout their Heads arid arrqsj
and they and the young men who were riclin
with ’em would chat unci laugh, and make fun
of every person who passed, and we did not
escape. Jimmy says, “ never mind, Squire,
for though such a breach of politeness deserves
censure, and such a want of honor and noble
principle which they have betrayed, merits con
tempt, and even insult, yet silence is our on|y
honorable course. You have noticed tjiat but
few have laughed at us, and those few 1 value
not; for certain lam that the gentlemen have
no more sense, and the ladies no more man
ners.” go, says I, if we wrastlc with a chunk
we are smutted, fall bottom or 4op, but its cola
consolation to me ; 1 want to give ’em as good
as they send. Well, Jimmy and 1 was goin
down a cross street, and three carriges follow,
ed abreast, so that there was no retreat. They
came a cur!in, whippin, and lafiti, just to run
.over us ; Jimmy left in fine style, but old
Soap Sticks canter’d too slow. Here they
came; I spurred and whipped ; they gained
upon me : my saddle-bags fell off and was cut
nearly in two by a carrige wheel. I saw a
stable door—there was no time *0 lose—so ly
ing flat on my racer, I turned his attention to
the stable, and entered amid the acclamations
of astonished multitudes. It happened to be
the tavern stable, so I let my steed stay, and
came out to look for my saddle-bags and ad
ventures, for I would have fit any thing in
these parts, not more than six feet and half
inch high, nor over 130 pounds flesli, bono
and sinew ; and such treatment was enufftq
make any man fight. No one of my size and
weight wantin to fight, I went to the tavern
and Jimmy and 1 took a room to ourselves.—
jimmy told me that my curiosity nearly cost
me as much as Eve’s did ; I told him that j
had seen the exibition sufficiently, arid would
go to the exariiinat.on. “ Well,”, says he,
“ you have not seen the exhibition yet iiji fu||,
hut you will see it on the morrow.” Whyj
says I, what hart* these carriges, these gal
lantries, these displays of dress and fashion,
these cUrly-locked and starchy young men, to
do with knowledge. “ Ah!” says Jemmy;
“ they have nothin to do with knowledge, be
cause they baldly know her name, much less
her worth! The ladies talk sweetly, and the
the young men sigh—the young men bow
gracefully, and the ladies arc filled with admU
ration—and the parents of both parties .thjnk
they arc all geniuses. There are yoUnj* ladies
in this place, 1 venture to say, who tire poring
over their text hooks: with such, knowledge
owns fellowship, and wisdom pours her light
on the page before them. As for ydung mtSh
who have come from any distanefe, 1 may say
that most of them nothing but bows to
recommend them. And these facts show me
the inconsistency and weakness of youth. You
may ask a thousand young people, ’squire,
what they admire mostly in character. They
will say moral and intellectual merit; but the
actions of nearly all give the lie to the words
of the mouth; and in this way we admire
wealth; we admire fine form, pretty eyes,
graceful carriage, and even affectation. One
of ten use artificial means to hide the deformi
ties of nature, and are proud when culled hand
some ; and often fall in love at first sight.—
Many a lady has told me of her great admir
ers (by some’called love) at first sight, and I
have blushed to hear it—feeling for her igno
rance and pity her weeklies*. Why ? to an-