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which contribute not the least forcibly to impart resemblance in a sketch— must have vanished, or been obscured, before I met the General. All merely graceful attributes are usually the most evanescent: nor does Nature adorn the human ruin with blossoms of new beauty, that have their roots and proper nutriment only in the chinks and crev ices of decay, as she sows wall-flowers over the ruined fortress of Ticonderoga. Still, even in respect of grace and beau ty. there were points well worth noting. A rav of humour, now and then, would make its way through the veil of dim obstruction, and glimmer pleasantly upon our faces. A trait of native ele gance, seldom seen in the masculine character after childhood or early youth, was shown in the General’s fondness for the sight and fragrance of flowers. An old soldier might be supposed to prize only the bloody laurel on his brow ; but here was one, who seemed to have a young girl’s appreciation of the floral tribe. There, beside the fireplace, the brave old General used to sit; while the Sur veyor —though seldom, when it could be avoided, taking upon himself the difficult task of engaging him in con versation —was fond of standing at a distance and watching his quiet and al most slumberous countenance, fie seemed away from us, although we saw him but a few yards off; remote, though we passed close beside his chair, unattainable, though we might have stretched forth our hands and touched his own. It might be, that he lived a more real life within his thoughts, than amid the unappropriate environment of the Collector’s office. The evolutions of the parade ; the tumult of the bat tle ; the flourish of old, heroic music, heard thirty years before; —such scenes and sounds, perhaps, were all alive be fore his intellectual sense. Meanwhile, the merchants and ship-masters, the spruce clerks, and uncouth sailors, en tered and departed; the bustle of this commercial and Custom-House life kept up its little murmur round about him; and neither with the men nor their affairs did the General appear to sustain the most distant relation. He was as much out of place as an old sword —now rusty, but which had flash ed once in the battle’s front, and show ed still a bright gleam along its blade —would have been, among the ink stands, paper-folders, and mahogany rulers, on the Deputy Collector’s desk. There was one thing that much aided me in renewing and re-creating the stalwart soldier of the Niagara frontier, —the man of true and simple energy. It was the recollection of those memo rable words of his, —“ I'll try, Sir !” spoken on the very verge of a desper ate and heroic enterprise, and breathing the soul and spirit of New England hardihood, comprehending all perils, and encountering all. If, in our coun try, valor were rewarded by heraldic honour, this phrase—which it seems so easy to speak, but which only he, with such a task of danger and glory before him, has ever spoken—would be the best and littest of all mottoes for the General’s shield of arms. THE MAN OF BUSINESS. There was one man, especially, the observation of whose character gave j me anew idea of talent. His gifts were emphatically those of a man of business ; prompt, acute, clear-minded; with an eye that saw through all per- : plexities. and a faculty of arrangement that made them vanish, as by the wav ing of an enchanter’s wand. Bred up from boyhood in the Custom-House, it was his proper field of activity ; and the many intricacies of business, so harassing to the interloper, presented themselves before him with the regu larity of a perfectly comprehended sys tem. In my contemplation, he stood as the ideal of his class. He was, in deed, the Custom-House in himself; or, at all events, the main-spring that kept its variously revolving wheels in mo tion ; for, in an institution like this, where its officers are appointed to sub serve their own profit and convenience, j and seldom with a leading reference to their fitness for the duty to be per formed, they must perforce seek else where the dexterity which is not in them. Thus, by an inevitable neeessi tv, as a magnet attracts steel-filings, so and and our man of business draw to him self the difficulties which everybody met with. W ith an easy condescen sion, and kind forbearance towards our stupidity,—which, to his order of mind, must have seemed little short of crime, —would he forthwith, by the merest touch of his finger, make the incom prehensible as clear as daylight. The merchants valued hint not less than we, his esoteric friends. His integrity was perfect: it was a law of nature with him, rather than a choice or a princi- J pie ; nor can it be otherwise than the : main condition of an intellect so re markably clear and accurate as his, to be honest and regular in the adminis tration of affairs. A stain on his con science, a. to any thing that came with in the range of his vocation, would trouble such a man very much in the same way, though to a far greater de gree, than an error in the balance of an account, or an ink-blot on the fair page of a book of record. Here, in a word, —and it is a rare instance in my life.— l had met with a person thoroughly adapted to the situation which he held. Such were some of the people with whom I now found myself connected. I took it in good part at the hands of Providence, that 1 was thrown into a position so little akin to my past habits; and set myself seriously to gather from it whatever profit was to be had. Af ter my fellowship of toil and impracti cable schemes, with thedreamy brethren of Brook Earm ; after living for three years within the subtile influence of an intellect like Emerson’s; after those wild, free days on the Assabeth, in dulging fantastic speculations beside our fire of fallen boughs, with Ellery Channing; after talking with Thoreau about pine-trees and Indian relics, in his hermitage at Walden ; after growing fastidious by sympathy with the clas sic refinement of Hillard’s culture; utter becoming imbued with poetic sen timent at Longfellow’s hearth-stone; — it was time, at length, that I should ex eicise other faculties of my nature, and nourish myself with food for which I had hitherto had little appetite. Even the old Inspector was desirable, as a change of diet, to a man who had known Alcot. I looked upon it as an evidence, in some measure, of a sys tem naturally well balanced, and lack- ing no essential part of a thorough or ganization, that, with such associates to remember, I could mingle at once with men of altogether different qualities, and never mumur at the change. (Original For the Southern Literary Gazette. OH! MARY DEAR. BY J. A. TURNER. Air— “ Dearest Mae.” When Mary used to love me, My heart was gay and light. And heavenly hope above me Spread visions ever bright. Chorus —Oh! Mary dear, Come drop one gentle tear. When I'm laid low Where the roses blow, And the wild-bird warbles near. When the rnoon was shining brightly. In the valley ’neath the hill, We used to wander nightly To the note of the whippoorwill. But they tore her from my bosom— Poor Mary how she wept, As the honeysuckle’s blossom Its vigils o’er her kept. Now Mary loves another, And soon will be his bride— My grief how can I smother To see her by his side ? Where there comes no more to-morrow. And the weary are at rest, I’ll seek a balm for sorrow, With the rose-hud on my breast. (Driginul ißssntjs. For the Southern Literary Gazette. EGERI A: Or, Voices from the Woods and Wayside. NEW SERIES. XLI. Wholeness of Truth. But we must not forget the sacred wholeness of Truth. In putting her into small par cels, we must be careful to diminish none of her proportions. It is one im portant element of her character, the proof her spirituality, that she may contract herself to any dimensions, yet preserve her entireness and symmetry. She must be symmetrical, or we cannot love her —she must be perfect or we shall not recognize her. No writer of a book need set out with the design to make a moral. If he does, his book will be very apt to fail. His great ob ject is to make his narrative—be it history or fiction—and there is the philosophy of both—entirely truthful; and truthfulness, even in the delineation of a vice or a crime, always carries with it its own and a valuable moral. The most moral authors that the world has ever known, are those who have been most true to nature : to nature in her completeness—in all her essentials —and not in partial glimpses of her person. When, therefore, an author proves immoral in his results—even supposing that he sets out with no evil intentions—the inference is fair that he is not true in his details. He may give you glimpses of the truth, but they are glimpses only. The whole truth is the only testimony which the superior genius indulges, and the only testimony which can properly avail for his ease before the awful tribunals of posterity. It is the lack of this entire ness, this universal singleness, this in dividual essential, absorbing all the rest, that has surrendered to defeat, and given up to oblivion, many a noble mind and grasping imagination. The world has known very few writers who have deliberately set out to pervert the truth, to misrepresent man, to deform nature and to debase society! The Etherege’s and the Rochester’s, were vicious men, it is true, but they were abandoned, rather in consequence of their inferior intellectual nature, than because of any wilful desire to do wrong. They yielded themselves, with out examination, to the habitual vices and tastes of their period. Genius, it must be remembered, is a Seer who is apt to see false visions as well as true. “ One-sidedness ” of survey is that which frequently perverts the intellect, who would otherwise honestly pursue the truth. The truth naturally eludes such vision. She has a thousand aspects and they see but one. She lies, it is true, upon the surface, but Mho shall say how much of her there is below it. It will not do to content ourselves with the surface. We must dig, we must dig below it, we must explore. Truth has breadth, depth, length and weight; and we shall fail to say what she is till we learn what these are. What she requires follows as another lesson.— Some writers of great genius succeed wonderfully in giving her surface.— They show one of her aspects, with most singular force and felicity; but as they themselves see but her surface only, they show no more; and they are immoral writers because they are un true. There is a general incoherence i • ° in the tone and temper of their works— an inconsistency between the character and the doings of their agents—which the natural world never presents to us. To write morally, it is necessary that i truth in the general, and truth in the detail, should be attended to; if not, we have the old monster of character, the half woman, the half fish, described by the Poet, in reference to a similar topic: “ The beauteous maid, Proud of each charm above the waist displayed ; Below a loathsome fish : Such is the book, that like a sick man’s dreams. Deforms all shapes and mingles all extremes.” XLII. Love, lo love wisely is not so easy I as to love well; yet to love -well, it is necessary that we should first love wisely. SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE. C’tit Hrniruirr. For the Southern Literary Gazette. EULOGIZING THE DEAD* Common as this practice is, at the present day. and exhaustless as appears the rage for multiplying publications, all tending to the same object, it can not be expected that the merit of de cided originality should attach to ai, ‘ any of them, or that candid criticism may claim for such a production a greater distinction than that of being a creditable specimen of its class. Yet even among the fugitive tributes to de parted worth, which deluge our ordi nary prints, the monotony of indiscri minate panegyric is occasionally re lieved by a happy passing thought, or a peculiarly appropriate analogy, and it is to the skilful delineation of this latter feature especially, tnat the biographer of the dead, in sketching the most pro minent points in the character and ca reer of his subject, usually owes his chief success. The death of our late lamented Statesman has furnished a fertile theme for the Kulogist, and in analyzing his many virtues as a man and a public servant, much of the talent and scholu:- sliip of our own State, as well a> others, has been called into requisition. In all writings of this character, there must necessarily be found great same ness, and perhaps a great deal that is trite, homely and commonplace. — Where all place, by unanimous consent, the same high estimate upon the life and services of men whom the whole nation delighted to honour—the record of their illustrious actions becomes the property of all —their sayings and do ings, their philosophy and practice, and the very phraseology in which we are accustomed to utter their praises, pass into a national proverb, and become flat and stale, while they lose nothing of their profitableness from repetition. Among the discourses which have been given to the public from the press of this city, we have been particu larly struck with the one, the title of which is inserted in a note below. We have among us few, if any writers, more capable of doing ample justice to a theme of this character, than the gifted author of this elegant and touch ing tribute. With his profound scholar ship and enlightened views of things, his rare powers of delineation, improv ing oratory, and keen, delicate percep tion of the beautiful in nature and art, all who have listened to and been pro fited by the stated preachings of this young, native divine, are abundantly ia miliar. llis ordinary pulpit efforts bear the marks of far more diligent study, careful analysis, close philosophical ar gumentation, and bold, speculative re search, than are usually considered as belonging to compositions in which the mere declamatory is but too often the most captivating and popular. — Endowed with a brilliant imagination, a striking facility of concentration, and remarkably fluency of language, Mr. C. possesses a happy combination of those characteristics which distinguish the votary of chaste and elegant litera ture, while his earnestness and fervour in applying the results of his theories to the spiritual concerns of his hearers, never fail to elicit from those capable of appreciating the more refined traits of pulpit eloquence, the tribute of their attention and approval. The discourse before us is founded upon the incidents related in the 2d chapter of the 2d book of Kings —the text occurring just at that portion of the narrative when Elijah the prophet disappears miraculously from the earth: “And Elisha saw it, and he said ‘My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof. And he saw him no more : and he took hold of his own clothes and rent them in two pieces.’’ Elijah, one of the most illustrious prophets of the Old Testameut, lived in a time of extreme wickedness and idolatry. He was sent to recall the people to a sense of their iniquity.— He warned the nation, but in vain. His warnings were despised. He opened his lips in prayer, and the sky became dark and lowering, the rocks were rent and there were great earthquakes. In the midst of all this he “stood upon the mount and held converse with the Deity—yet when the still small voice came and asked ; what dost thou here Elijah' —this solitary prophet who was the hope of the nation and the seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to Baal, is now to cease his stay upon earth, and well may the people weep, and the tears course down Elisha’s cheeks as they rapidly approach the spot where they separate, never to meet again on earth.” The words italicised from the basis of the beautiful analogy which the au thor now institutes—in a civil sense, in applying his text to the occasion. The “ hope of the nation” after having sur vived many a disastrous crisis in its af fairs, after having exerted his <jreat and acknowledged power, and influence in vain to arrest the rashness of rulers, and the disaffection of the people, is at length, as if in judgement upon the sins of a guilty nation, taken up into Heaven, and the awe-stricken, mourn ing Elisha, who had stood at his side, listened to his counsels and leaned on him for support, now weeps in solitude. “And it came to pass, as they still went on and talked, there appeared a chariot *A Sermon preached at St. Philips Church, Charleston, April 14th, 1850, on the occasion of the Death of the Hon. John C. Calhoun, by Rev. J. Barnwell Campbell, Assistant Minister of St. Philips Church. of tire and horses of tire, and parted them both asunder, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into Heaven, and Elisha saw it.” in commenting upon this portion of the narrative, the author uses the fol lowing glowing language: “Yes he marked all the amazing beau ty of that spectacle. He saw the wheels, burnished with jewels more dazzling than the sun, the lambent flame from the nostrils of the fiery steeds, and that glorious chariot, made by su perhuman hands, descending through the parting clouds that glittered on ev ery side, as the coursers trod as if on solid gold; but wondrous as was this sight, this fixes not Elisha’s eye. No —he looks not at the chariot but its ri der; he sees Elijah rising from the ground; he beholds him above the mountain summit; he hears the rush of the whirlwind as it lifts him into his dazzling seat; he marks his father and his friend shining in the clear azure like some shooting meteor; lie sees his be loved form receding away in the far off space, where the eagle’s wing has never fanned the air ; and now, a; the shining equipage has vanished, it is still of Elijah that he thinks, of his loss, of his soiitude, of his country’s desertion, and he cries, “My father, my father, O hope of Judah, shield of the national defence, and stay of the widow and or phan ! My father, my father, thou art the chariot of Israel and the horse man thereof! And he saw him no more, and he took hold of his own clothes and rent them in pieces.” The application is obvious. As Elijah was divinely commissioned, as a prophet in a period of great idolatry, and the political and spiritual welfare of Judah were intimately connected, lie was im portant not only to the Church, but the State of Israel. So in the political his tory of our own country, we find re corded among the names of her great leaders, one who trembled for the ark of safety upon which our existence as a nation depends, who saw with pro phetic eye. the dangers and perils await ing it in the future, and labored to ar rest the tide of evil which still threat ens it, and to put down the lust of pow er and wealth, which is fast corrupting the sensibilities of factions and blinding them to their obligations under the sa cred charter of which they have sworn to support. The present crisis, and the causes which have led to it, are thus graphically depicted: “ There are periods when the heart of a great nation beats with a feverish and tumultuous pulse, and the body politic is convulsed in looking for those things that are corning ; when the ties that have bound together a people wide ly dispersed over an extended territory are shaken, and conflicting interests, agitating the very seat and throne of the ruling powers, rise as spectres in the distant horizon, that warn us of an unhappy future. At such a period we seem now to have arrived. It cannot be concealed that since the hour when the sword was girt that smote the most brilliant gem from the purple of Bri tain. and rent a royal domain from her hands; since the period American blood was copiously shed in the contested arena of this republic, and dyed the waters of her extended shores, we have reached no crisis greater than the pre sent. Nay, it would seem the peril is more intense. For, granting that our infant republic had to cope with a mighty antagonist, whose sword for centuries had been skilfully wielded, and on a thousand battle-fields returned victori ously to its sheath, as invincible on the sea as on the land; yet there was in the hands of our fathers a bond of union, only rendered more vehement and close from their outward pressure. Yes! who could stand before those men, who fought for their lives, their liber ties and their country, for their fire sides, for their wives and their children; and though pursued as a wild beast to the rocks and recesses of our woods, trampled and beaten upon, in naked ness and cold and hunger, still returned a myriad times to the conflict, showing that a nation, however feeble in artil lery and numbers, yet is unconquerable if united as one brotherhood. This unanimity was the secret of our former strength. But what is the spectacle now ? We have no foreign foe, but a ten fold more dangerous enemy—dis cord among ourselves. We have lust ed for power and wealth, and we have gained it by the might of arms, but as if to curse us for the lust of power and the thirst for gold, the very territory which we have acquired is more terri ble to us than all the batteries of Mex co or the fleets and regiments of Britain in our recent wars. God has decima ted us by the pestilience, and since this is not enough to teach us, now he sends another scourge —civil dissention. We have looked back upon our national greatness with complacency, and con ceive it shall be eternal; but while we have astonished the world by our un precedented advance, this rapid growth, not yet of a century, seems the fore runner of as speedy a dissolution.— Would that upon our hearts, as upon the rock of the everlasting hills, were graven this undoubted truth, that it is universal piety alone that can give sta bility to our government. This is as true in our case as in that of Israel. The concluding appeal is an impres sive admonition on the vanity of human greatness: “Alas ! Ye men whose ambition trusted one day to reach an eminence as lofty, learn here how vain is human greatness! If this man, so mighty in political wisdom, died, and saw not the principles triumphant to which he devo ted his whole life, how vain must be the ambition that counts upon success and wisdom and political greatness as the great object and solace of life ! To expire and find this end not accomplish ed, for which so many hours of patient research and years of toil and struggle were spent —O how impressive the les son ! “Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, but let him that gloryeth glory in this, that he under standeth and knoweth me that 1 am the Lord, which exercise loving kindness, judgement and righteousness in earth, for in these things I delight, saith the Lord God.” And ye, my countrymen who have wept upon hearing the ti dings that have filled our country with mourning, ‘when we remember that the voice which has so eloquently plead In our favour shall never again be heard ; when ye recall all the patriotism that stirred his bosom, the integrity, the vig ilance, the earnestness, the sagacity, the far-seeing vision, and the fidelity, (a fidelity so marked that even when he should have been reposing upon that bed where he breathed his last, he came forth, faint and feeble, leaning upon the arms of others, to the Senate to speak in your behalf—nay. he was too feeble even to speak, and another had to de liver the words he had dictated.) When we rember this devotion to his country, and that magnanimous heart which made him surrender the highest hon ours of these United States, had he not boldly declared his adherence to your political interests—surely when we contemplate all his various excel lencies. and remember that his per son shall no longer be with us, save when we shall delight to do honour to his sacred remains, methinks South Car olina has become like the land of Egypt, for a great cry has gone up th roughout all our borders, and it seems as if in every house there was some one dead, and, like the disconsolate Elisha, we take hold of our clothes and rend them in pieces, for we shall see him no more.” This beautiful discourse, was pub lished by request of the Vestry of the Church, and is from the Steam Power Press of Messrs. Walker & James— exhibiting a creditable specimen of chaste typography. If. hliscfllnttg. For the Southern Literary Gazette. TOM TOOKE; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL CHAPTER, INTER SPERSED WITH EPIGRAMS. BY J. A. TURNER Die following MS. Mas handed me the other day by a friend of Mr. Tooke, who is noM - no more, with the request that I should look over it, and prepare it for publication in the Southern Lite rary Gazette. \ cheerfully comply with the request. The gentleman who hand ed me the MS. was not certain whether Mr. Tooke spent his College, days in Oxford or Athens. ‘•1 entered the junior class of my Alma Mater at the age of about eighteen. Eroin my youth up, 1 had been in the habit of indulging in satirical nature, in order to punish any person or any thing that gave me cause of offence. The following incidents and epigrams occurred during my college life. Having a pair of boots M'hieh needed half-soling, 1 took them to a boot maker by the name of J B to have the work done. Though this fellow Mas a leading member of the Methodist Church, and had once been on the point of preaching, yet he Mas as arrant a knave as ever lived, as is evidenced by his conduct to me in re ference to my boots. He charged me for the work done #1.37 1-2, when the usual price was only 87 1-2 cents. To victimize the cobbler in shoes and souls, 1 wrote the following epigram, and slyly pinned it to the gentleman’s back, Mho More it to church one Sab bath. amid the M'inks and titters of the congregation: Whose heart in filthy lucre rolls. Is not the man to deal in souls; For he would hold salvation fast With tax unto the very last. There Mas a stupid fellow in my class mlio sometimes sought the socie ty of the muses, and M as, at the same time, the favourite of a very dull lady who made some pretensions to a lite rary turn, however, she asked her Adonis one day to write her a verse entirely new meaning original—sug gested by her person. The poetaster very clumsily wrote in her album the following:— A verse you ask me to indite On thee containing something new : My answer is that what I write Is all inspired by only you. When 1 read the above, the oppor tunity for repartee was too good to be lost, aud my wit got *he better of my gallantry. In a disguised hand, 1 M'rote the following:— This answers for your prose at once, Since you’re inspired by such a dunce. The lady and gentleman both sus pected mo of the authorship of this couplet, and 1 never obtained their for giveness for my crime. There Mas a certain lawyer whom 1 occasionally met in society, and who thought more of himself—as is usual M ith that class of persons—than any body else thought of him. He took it upon himself one day, in the presence of some ladies to speak very slightingly of college boys, because one of the fair ones so far forgot his merits as to smile upon me—(and I never had cause to complain of a want of smiles. Heav en bless the sex). 1 immediately resorted to my potent weapon the epigram, and having written the following lines with a pencil, passed them around amongst the ladies much to their merriment and the annoyance of Coke-upon-Lit tleton. EPITAPH FOR A CERTAIN LAWYER. Here sleeps the dust of one who lied While with his fellows vieing— His tongue is silent since he died. But here his bones are lying. The disciple of Blackstone tried to get hold of the slip of paper contain ing these lines, but the ladies would not let him have it. He took this in high dudgeon however, and the next day I received a challenge. Before fighting time catne on, the lawyer backed out, and if he had not done so, I should. The most complete victim of my epigrammatic propensity that I ever made, was a young lady who disliked me for, God only knows what—l don’t. Any M'ay, she had formed a very great antipathy for me, and took every ocea sion to exercise upon me what she con sidered wit and sarcasm. My courtesy prevented my retorting, and this only added to the vindictiveness with which the lady pursued me. One day, in company, she grew excessively smart, and considered herself enormously se vere. The gad-fly may torment the lion, you know, and cause him to roar. 1 suffered young Miss to proceed for some time until she got upon the very pinnacle of glee at my expense. I wished to give her a lofty tumble. Fi nally 1 deliberately drew a slip of pa per from my pocket, and very coolly proceeded to write for her the follow ing verse, handing it to her after it was finished. You may be told you’re neat and pretty, You may be told you’re smart and witty— It’ so ’tis clear to every eye, Your flaiteter and your mirror lie. Miss was notoriously ugly, having a face that looked like a gem of homeli ness set in a casket of hair that was not scarlet, only because hair never is of that color. The effect which the epigram produced upon her was aston ing. Had a bolt from Olympus fallen upon her bosom, it could not have put a more complete quietus upon her. She sank back in her chair, her cheek paled and her lips quivered, as she rent the slip of paper into fragments. Suffice it to say l was never troubled by Miss Impertinence after that. I finally met my match. All that I relate in this paper occurred while 1 was in college. I was a wild, carousing fellow, such as a man of wit and smart ness usually is. 1 rarely ever studied any, and was therefore frequently at a loss for little items of knowledge which more careful book-worms had at their command. One day in reciting our Greek lesson we came across the word fy a XM which 1 correctly rendered drachm. Professor T. wished to know the value of the drachm. I, mistaking money for Apothecary's weight —told him it was the third of a scrapie be cause three drachms make a scrapie. — It is just the reverse—three scraples making a drachm. Professor T. got the tables and showed me how 1 had put the cart before the horse—drachms following after scruples instead of com ing before them. He also admonished me in a long explanation—all lost of course—that in our lesson was a denomination of money not of weight. I was boarding at Professor T’s, and the good old doctor was remarkably fond of sweet milk, never drinking less than half a dozen tumblers full. One day 1 took a pin and wrote on the bright metalic pitcher which usually contain ed his milk, the following lines. Why does our good professor T. Cow's milk so much delight to quail'? The ‘•'philosophic cause'’ must be It is the nature of a calf. It is to be remarked that “ philo sophic cause” was a favourite expres sion with the old professor. I must premise a little here in reference to a spree in which 1 was engaged a short time before this. The truth is I was not far from drunk: —you know no drinking man ever acknowledges him self to be entirely so. After 1 got sober, I felt badly of course, and, in a playful way, told some of the students that 1 began to feel conscientious scruples about drinking. Bv hook or bv crook Professor T. had heard of my being drunk, and of what I had said about conscientious scruples, when he saw the lines written upon his favourite pitcher, he knew the hand to be mine. He said not a word to any body, but taking a pin, wrote these lines under mine. When is it Tooke writes epigrams ? When scruples follow after drachms. This double allusion to my mistake in taking three drachms to make a scruple, and to my conscientious scru ples after having been drunk, cut me to the quick—especiaily as l thought the faculty profoundly ignorant of my last drinking spree. The Professor’s reply to my epigram was soon noised over College, .and the victim of Dr. T’s wit was laughed at until I vowed in my wrath never to pen another .epi gram or line of poetry. In after years I thanked the doctor for ridding me of my rhyming mania, and at the same time of my disposition to tipple. The old pitcher was put away with its epi grams still upon it, and, for aught l know, may yet be held as a rod in ter roretn over all unruly College witlings.” THE HEAD AND TIIE HEART. Here is a beautiful thing from the pen of Mrs. Cornwall Barry Wilson : “ Please, my lady, buy a nosegay, or bestow a trifle,” was the address of a pale, emaciated woman, holding a few withered flowers in her hand, to a lady who sat on the bench at Brighton watch ing the blue waves of the receding tide. “ I have no pence, my good woman,” said the lady, looking up from the novel she was perusing with a listless gaze ; “If I had, I would give them to you.” “ I am a poor widow, with three help less children depending upon me; would you bestow a small trifle to help us on our way ?” “ I have no halfpence,” reiterated the lady somewhat pettishly. “ Really,” she added, as the poor applicant turned meekly away, “ this is worse than the streets of London ; they should have a police on the shore to prevent annoy ance.” They were the thoughtless dictates of the head. “ Mamma,” said a blue-eyed boy, who was playing on the beach at the la dy’s feet, flinging pebbles into the sea, “ I wish you had a penny, for the poor woman does look hungry,and you know that we are going to have a nice dinner, and you have promised me a glass of wine.” The heart of the ladv answered the appeal of the child; and with a blush of shame crimsoning her cheek at the tacit reproof his artless words eonvey en, she opened her retticule, placed half a crown in his tiny hand—and in another moment the boy was bounding along the sands on his errand of mercy. In a few seconds he returned, his eyes sparkling with delight, and his fea tures glowing with health and beautv. “Oh ! mamma, the poor woman was so thankful, she wanted to turn back, but 1 would not let her; and she said, ‘God help the noble lady, and you too, my pretty lamb, my children will now have bread for these two days, and we shall go on our wav reloicing.” “ The eyes of the lady glistened as she heard the recital of her child, and her heart told her that its dictates bestowed apleasure the cold reasoning of the head could never bestow. Private Libraries. —lt is stated 11 iat there are in the United States many private libraries which would be considered enormous, even in Europe. Hie reason of this is that abroad there are an immense number of large and extensive public collections, so easy of access that the tempatation to purchase is verv small. Among the largest col lections in America is that of Rev. Dr. Smyth, of Charleston, containing about 17,000 volumes. The Hon. M. King, has one nearlv as large. Judge barton, of Philadelphia, has 10.000 volumes, | peculiarly rich in dramatic works, his- j tories, etc. of the days of Napoleon.— Dr. Redmon Cox, has about *20.000. Hon. E. D. Ingraham about 13.000 vol umes, peculiarly rich in Judicial litera ture and in American history. Mr. G. Ticknor, of Boston, has the best collec tion of Spanish literature in the world. Mr. Douce, of Cambridge, has a very large similar collection, Dr. Francis, has, also, a very large collection very rich in old English literature; Theodore Parker’s, in Boston, is also large and ad mirably selected. There are many good libraries in Xew York. Dr. Moore has more than 1*2.000 volumes; the library of Edwin Forrest (collected chieflv by the late Wm. Leg gets) is nearly as large, and is very rich in English literature. The library of Mr. Lennox is large and of extraordi nary value, having cost, probably, more than any private library in the country. Mr. Bancroft has the best historical li brary in the city, and the best collet tion of MSS. illustrative of American history, in the possession of any indi vidual in the world. Very extensive and valuable libraries are also owned by J. W. Francis, and Rev. Drs. Hawkes, W. R. Williams, Bethune. and Griswold, the last having contained, before the destruction of a portion of it recently by fire, more than 13,000 books, chiefly American. Mr. W. E. Burton, the popular actor, has one of the best selected libraries in the country, being peculiarly rich in dramatic litera ture, poetry, and antiquarian science.— N. Y. Paper. iV'urtlj Stunting. The Emperor of China is the father and mother of the people, the high priest of heaven, and the fountain of all honour, power and wisdom. The Chinese have no Sabbath-day, no congregational worship, and no ex ternal forms of prayer or devotion. The Emperor is their mediator with heaven; and at the equinoxes, he offers sacrifices and oblations with great form and ceremony, preparing himself by fastiqg and humiliation, and by acts of grace and benevolence to the people. In their domestic establishments, the Chinese are the neatest, cleanest, and most comfortable people in the world; and their customs and manners appear to have been unvaried tor many thous and years. Amsterdam was in 1100 the castle of Amstel, with some fishing huts. After 1235 it began to be a town. It is now one ot the noblest cities in Eu rope. The Lake of Geneva is 1.000 feet above the Mediterranean, and parts of it are 1,000 feet deep. 4he present extent of German v is estimated at 249.000 square miles.— The population of the several States is about 83 millions. There are 20 German principalities, with territories equal to the English counties, containing about 120 inhabi tants to a square mile. The Grand Duchy of Tuscany is equal in extent to Wales, and contains about two millions of inhabitants. The native inhabitants of all Austra lasia, equal in surface to Europe, are not supposed to amount to 100.000. Delhi, a famous city in India, was the capital of the Mogul Empire. It is now in decay, but in 1700 it con tained a million of inhabitants. The farms in France are small, run ning from 20 to 50 or 00 acres, and hence the mass of the people are com fortable and well provided for. Wood being the fuel of France, 15 or 10 mil lions of acres are occupied by woods and forests. There are 500 species of parisitical flies called ichneumon. They deposit their eggs in other insects or animals, and there the larva are hatched and find find nourishment. In the ovula of carp fish, called the roe, nearly 150,000 germs of eggs have been counted, and in that of the stur geon, weighing 100 pounds, nearlv 1,500,000. The number of changes which any number of things, as bells, letters, cards, &c., can produce, is the product of all the figures multiplied together, thus: 1,2, 3,4, 5,0, bells, produce 720 changes. The beats in an hour of a common seconds clock are 3,600. and 27,280 a common watch; but seconds watches beat 18,000 times, or 5 per second. Ten beats of a healthy pulse is equal to nine seconds. Chronometers, for nautical and astro nomical purposes, are now made with such precision, that they do not vary from the true time more than two or three seconds in a year, or, in other words, they are as perfect as any instru ment by which observations can be made on the heavenly bodies. The £20,000 offered by the Board of Lon gitude was given to Harrison. China contains 1,297,991 square miles, with a population of 150 to every square mile, having had the advantage of a paternal government for 4000 years. The human brain is the 28th of the body, but in the horse but a 400th. €jj t §>arrrlr lltnr. For the Southern Literary Gazette. LINES TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT. Kind mother! cease to weep, Thine infant is at rest; ’Tis in its earthly bed asleep, As pure as on thy oreast. Kind mother! cease to mourn, ’Twill not remain there long, The heavenly dove will take it home To lisp some holy song. Kind parent! cease to mourn, Although thy loss is great, Thy little babe has found a home Before it was too late. It rests unstained on high, Where angels praise their God ; Twas doomed to leave this world and die Before it learned His Word. I ond mother! cease to weep, Forever cease to mourn, Thine infant that was once asleep Now rests before ihe throne. Kind mother! dry thy tears. Forever cease to mourn, For thine, as was thy infant’s years, Are by thy Maker known Then let thy days be spent In thinking of the Lord; By studying with good intent His pure and Holy Word Kind mother! cease to mourn, Thine infant is at rest, But never cease His Word to own. Who has thy infant blest. L. C. K. Lesson for Sunday, June 16. BELIEVERS’ TITLES. “ Holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling.”— Heb. iii. 1. Ihe Apostle is here speaking of be lievers ; how beautiful and striking the description he gives of them ! Ob serve The DIGNIFIED APPELLATION. He calls them Brethren. The church of God is a family ; united, happy, spiritual, peace ful, and honourable. It is now divided; part is in heaven and part on earth. Christians are assimilated to the same likeness, interested in the same righte ousness, animated by the same affec tion. guided by the same rules, destined to the same home. He styles them Holy. I hey are set apart for holy purposes, possessed of holy qualities, influenced by holy motives, partakers of holy joys, and bound for a holv place. Their principles, dispositions, secret thoughts, and the development of their character, are connected with holinesss. He speaks of them as Partakers of the heavenly calling. — Contemplate its nature ; it is the call ing of the Spirit, addressed to the heart. It is a sovereign, honourable, and high calling. Consider its property, “heav enly.” In its origin, efficacy, tendency, and termination, it is heavenly. Look at its participation, believers are “ par takers ot it. This is something more than a profession. Religion is personal and experimental in its character. Am Ia partaker of it ? Do I feel heaven begun in my heart • Aspire, my soul, to this honour ; see the world’s vanity, emptiness, and delusions. Were every dew-drop a diamond, every atom a world, and every world filled with gold, all would not satisfy the boundless de sires of the immortal soul. How blest the sacred tie that binds. In sweet communion, kindred minds! How switt the heavenly course they’ mn, W hose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one’ To each the soul of each how dear! What render love, what holy fear! How doth the generous flame within Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin! Nor shall the glowing flame expire, When dimly burns frail nature's fire; Then shall they meet in realms above, A heaven of joy, a heaven of lov. MARCOLINI—A TALE OF VENICE. It was midnight; the great clock had struck, and was still echoing through every porch and gallery in the quarter of St. Mark, when a young citizen, wrapped in his cloak, was hastening home from an interview with his mis tress. His step was light, for his heart was so. Her parents had just consented to their marriage, and the very day was named. “ Lovely Giuli etta!” he cried, “and shall 1 then call thee mine at last? Who was ever so blest as thy Marcolini?” But as he spoke, he stopped ; for something was glittering on the pavement before him. It was a scabbard of rich workmanship; and the discovery, what was it but an earnest of good fortune? “Rest thou there!” he cried, thrusting it gaily into his belt; “if another claims thee not, thou hast changed masters!” and on he went as before, humming the burden of a song which he and his Giulietta had been singing together. But how little we know what the next minute will bring forth! He turned by the church of St. Ge miniano, and in three steps he met the watch. A murder had just been com mitted. The Senator Renaldi had been found dead at his door, the dagger left in ms heart; and the unfortunate Mar colini was dragged away for examina tion. The place, the time, every thing served to excite, to justify suspicion; and no sooner had he entered the guard-house than an evidence appeared against him. The bravo in his flight had thrown away his scabbard; and, smeared with blood, with blood not vet drv, it was now in the belt of Mar colini. Its patrician ornaments struck every eye; and when the fatal dagger was produced and compared with it, not a doubt of his guilt remained. — Still there is in the innocent an energy and a composure; an energy when they speak, and a composure when they are silent, to which none can be altogether insensible; and the judge delayed for some time to pronounce the sentence, though he was a near relation of the dead. At length, however it came; and Marcolini lost his life, and Giulietta her reason. Not many years afterwards, the truth revealed itself, the real criminal, in his last moments,confessing the crime: and hence the custom in Venice, a custom that long prevailed, for a crier to cr) out in the court before a sentence was passed, “Ricordatevi del povero Mar colini !” —Remember the poor Marco lini. Great, indeed, was the lamentation throughout the city, and the judge, dying, directed that thenceforth and lor ever, a mass should be sung every night in the ducal church for his own soul and the soul of Marcolini, and the souls of all who had suffered by an unjust judg ment. Some land on the Brenta was