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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-