Newspaper Page Text
dp fit tru l (irertir.
From the North British Review.
A NIMAL M AONETISM.
ilic annual magnet has at last found
nuity ; recorded hundreds of results
with much fidelity ; and constructed a
generalization or theory of the whole I
subject, which is not without its feasi
bility and beauty. In short, the baro
nial doctor has either created anew
science for posterity, and placed him- |
sell among the Copernicuses and New
tons, at least with the Voltas and the I
Oersteds ot the world; or he has built
himself as brave a custle in the air as
ever was seen. There is, indeed, a
thiru alternative, to borrow an image
from Marry at’s triangular duel: Is it!
<gO'sjJjle.f.Uai juV.ic.hcnl.uOi
turn out to be partly real and partly i
false, founded on faets but reared with ‘
ot tar and ot the proximate principles i
whieii he discovered to be the eompo- |
nents ot that fragrant olio. Mis knowl
edge ot several departments of natu-1
ral philosophy and history, as well as j
his active labours in them, had long |
been acknowledged in the common
wealth ot science. It appears that he !
had earned the distinction of being un- !
questionably the highest living author
ity on the natural history of terolites I
or meteoric rocks and stones. Alto
gether, he had approved himself a suf-1
ticient and reputable master in the art
ot scientific observation. There was j
therefore no wonder that Berzelius, j
searching criticism at the hands of!
some competent experimentalist; and
In- hope was fulfilled in the person of
his friend the discoverer of creasote. !
The Baron has also been singularly for- i
tunate in securing the confidence, ap-!
probation and diseipleship of Profes
sor (iregory, a man quite remarkable i
for openness of mind in the direction !
of natural science. Those great quali
ties and strokes of good fortune, how
ever. have not protected him from
much injurious treatment; the insolent |
silence ot neglect; the private and so- j
cial sneer of many scientific circles, I
where his name would have been pro- j
nounced w ith vast respect, if he hati j
heart, the sweat of his brain, every-■
thing that is his, upon the working out ,
of the thought by which he has been ;
visited. One word of scorn, one Hip- ;
pant little word, will defraud him of
the only outward reward he values,
namely the sympathy ot his brethren. ,
Why, even if the enthusiast were the
laborious and generous victim of some
coil of error, he would still deserve
the love and forbearance of men, for |
he is at least casting his life into some |
breach with bravery worthy of a better j
task ; but being the heavy-laden, and j
therefore the slowly treading, perhaps [
the staggering bearer of a weighty j
il inwardly digest, shall be the j
mellow last-fruits of this protracted j
and harassing investigation of Reichen-1
bach’s be the residual amount of sci
entific truth contained in his books
These researches have been contin
ued with great industry ever since
IS44‘, and the results of his manifold
labours in this direction are now before
the world in a large octavo volume,
composed of two parts. Dr. Gregory
has lately translated and published it
for the use of the British public; a ser
vice which is doubtless its own reward.
The merits of this remarkable volume
are great. The painstaking, conscien-
ness of spirit against Raymond, his
Berlin vituperator, or with such con
tempt of his young medical opponents
in Vienna; although the former is a
bully, and the latter are puppies: “He
is there sitting, where they durst not
soar.” But his too great animosity
against these wretched critics is not
the exception referred to. It is a want
of respect for the convictions ot oth
ers; the very crime that is perpetrated
against himself. His observations rel
ative to ghostly or spiritual apparitions
are little short of insulting to those
who believe in sutli things ; and all the
more so, that they appeal to the very
same kind of evidence as his own dis
coveries depend upon. Excathedra de
nunciation of other people’s beliefs do
not become the writer who exclaims
against them in his own case. Ghosts
are to be disproved or explained away,
cr else established and reduced to law,
by the same methods of criticism as
may be applicable to odylic flames.
Then why does he indulge in such
woundy contempt for the older school
of mesmerism 1 Its cosmicat fluid is
as good as his; it is the germ of his
own indeed, call it animal magnetism,
call it odyle, or call it w hat he choose.
To deface the memory of Mesiner is
to disown his own lather. Mesiner is
the legitimate predecessor of Reiehen
bach, whether the Baron will or not.
It was the doctrine of Mesiner, sug
gested by a chapter of Van Jlelmont’s,
that there radiates from the sun, the
mooli, the planets, the earth, in short
from the whole of nature, a quick and
subtle essence, which is not heat, nor
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light, nor anything else that is known.
Ibis secret force was furthermore un
i that speculative physician
to be peculiarly resfdcn^iiW-corrcers*-
trated in the common magnet; and
partly on that account, partly because
the animal nerve was its only known
measure or reagent, the fluid itself re
ceived the name of animal magnetism.
Let us now see what sort of extension
the mngnetist of Vienna has given to
these ideas.
The germinal fact from which this
singular investigation has spouted and
grown, till it has become somewhat of
a jungle it must be confessed, is very
simple considered as a fact; but there
are many ways ot accounting for it,
simple as it looks. When good strong
magnets, capable of lifting some ten
pounds’ weight, are carried slowly
down the persons (without touching
them) of a score of people taken at
random, one or more are sure to be ef
fected by the passes (as they are call
ed) in a notable and a somewhat descri
bable manner. Sometimes so many
as three or four such sensitives will be
found in that number of subjects. Our
author knows an institution where
eighteen out of twenty-two women are
perceptive of the sensations produced
by the passes ot the magnet. Many
people, who enjoy an average degree
of good health, seem to feel the influ
ence in question. The higher degrees |
of sensitivity, however, are shown
chiefly by the sickly; folk with weak
nerves, the hysteric, the spasmodic, the
cataleptic, the epileptic, the paralytic,
sleep-walkers, and the insane. As tor
the very large number of healthy sub
jects, who displayed considerable and
even remarkable sensitivity in the la- j
ter of Reichenbach’s experiments, it is
not to be forgotten that the apparently J
healthy man may well be the subject j
of an unhealthy diathesis or habit of j
body'. The tendency to fits, somnam
bulism and madness may and does
exist in thousands, who never shew it
to the uninitiated eye:—a think to be in
sisted on with all respect for Eudlicher
the botanist, Schuh the mechanician,
Kotschy the traveller, and ail the other
healthy enough patients of the Baron.
The difficulty is to find a family with- 1
hereditary morbid dispositions of the j
constitution; and a considerable, if not
a large proportion of those inherited
vices must be assigned to the class of j
nervous disease. This investigation
would therefore have been more com
plete, if the hereditary and acquired
predispositions of the so-called healthy
patients had been ascertained. It is
not a very difficult thing to do; but it
is a delicate task, and we must be con
tent w ithout it in this instance. In the
meantime, it would be unfair to as
sume that t.ll the subjects described in
the course of these researches are the
victims of a neuropathic diathesis, or
ill habit of body in the matter of ner
vous system. The reader may sus
pect it, but he cannot prove it. It is
our own opinion, we confess; but opin
ions go for nothing in the sciences of
observation and induction. At the
same time, it is a point which the can
did experimentalist in this department
will do well to attend to, for it is an
inquiry of some importance.
The sensation produced in the exci
table by the magnetic pass is represent
ed as being rather unpleasant than
agreeable; and it is associated with a
slight feeling either of coldness or of
warmth, resembling a cool or else a
tepid little breeze passing along the ;
lino of traction. They sometimes ex- i
perieneea sense of dragging or pricking I
in the parts under reaction. Formica- :
tion or the sleeping of a limb is not an j
uncommon attendant of these experi
ments. There are some men in the j
prime of life who perceive this mag
netic influence, but women are decided- ]
ly more sensitive. It is sometimes
vividly felt by children. ‘Hie most no
table of this whold group of magnetic
j symptoms is the sensation of cold or
heat.
Starting from thisprimogenitive and j
obscure fact, our experimentalist has j
I discovered a multitude of related things, j
lie has found that one pole of the mag- |
j net produces the sensation of coolness, j
the other that of warmth. That single ;
I crystals v.f all sorts of chemical sub j
! stances, especially when very large and
| perfect, work the same effects as the j
magnet. That crystals possessed of
more than one axis are also endowed |
with more than two poles of animal I
magnetic action; how many axes so
many poles. That chemical action is
also animal-magnetic: some reactions
producing the cool, others the warm
sensation, in the sensitive. That light
is animal magnetic precisely in the
same way ; the light of the sun and
stars being cool, that of the moon and
planets or moon-stars being warm.
That heat, electricity, and galvanism
a'c all capable of giving rise to the
| animal-magnetic phenomena. That the
I bodv of a inan is peculiarly potent in
I this"way ; whence the manipulations or
| hand-passes of Mesiner and his disci
j pies. That one side of the body pro
duces the cool, the other the warm sen
sation, in the sensitive. That, in fine,
everything in nature, crystalline or un
cryseal line, magnetic, chemically ac
tive, luminous, cold or hot, dead or
living, is capable of yielding similar
results: a fact amazingly and suspi
ciously broad and general.
These things are known only through
the reports of subject patients, oi
course; but Reiehen back adduces the
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SOUTHER N LITE RA R Y GAZ E TTE.
testimony of some sixty people, of
both sexes, of all ranks, of all degrees
!of sensitivity, some of them men of
; science, two or three of them members
j of the medical profession ; and the un
varying agreement of such a number
of intelligent people, had better not
ne set too easily aside. Any tiling like
imposture is out of the question. The
simplicity, the purity, tne precaution,
the ingenuity, with which some of the
experiments were made, cannot be too
much admired ; as -hall he found when
we come to the discussion of the sec
ond great fact in the investigation,
namely the perception by the sensi
tives of the odylic lights, as they are
called. In the meantime, we accept
and believe the fact of the anininl
magnetic sensations of cold and heat,
as evoked in the sensitives of our in- j
vestigator by magnets, crystals, chem
ical mixtures, light, heat, electricity,
and everything else.
(T’ijr lltnr.
HYMN—FROM THE PRAIRIE.
BY J. CLEMENT.
: I’ve felt thy presence, O iny God !
In gorges deep, amid tin* roar
Ot iorrVrirs, -far jsJhha'l. > j
And shaking earth's firm, rocky floor.
I’ve felt thy presence on the heights
Os hills, sky-cleaving and sublime,
.V here thoughts are bred lor angel flight*,
And near to heaven the soul may climb.
i I’ve felt thy presence mid the swell
Os billows leaping to the sky,
While Fancy, shocked at Furies’ yell,
Rolled death’s black waves before the eye. j
But gorges deep and mountains grand,
And e’en the Fury-ridden sea,
No mote than this broad Prairie-land
The presence, Lord, bespeak ot thee.
The hand that smoothed these boundless plains,
And fashioned all their charms,is thine;
And e’en the silence here that reigns
Is eloquent of power divine.
’Phis holy hush at noontide hour,
Amid this sea-like field of bloom,
Steals o’er me with a soothing power.
Like whispers from a Hope-lit tomb,
Amid thy solemn fields below,
Permit me, Lord, to often rove,
And daily may I humbler grow,
Till fit for holier fields above.
Lesson for Sunday. July 6.
DELIGHT IN PRAYER.
“ Delight thyself also in the Lord ; and heshalj give thee j
the desires of thine henrt.” —Psalm xxxii. 4.
True piety, while it softens and hum- |
bles the soul, secures to the believer ]
the most refined enjoyments. Let us j
contemplate the Christian’s delight in j
prayer, three ways.
Its nature. It greatly differs from ]
the false and delusive pleasures of the I
world.
It is a delight in the object of prayer j
—and that is God himself—in the per
lections of his nature, the bounty of
bis providence, the discoveries of his
| word, and the blessings of his grace.
It is a delight in the medium of j
prayer —and that is Christ. W e can
not approach the Father but through j
the mediation of the Son. Our pray
ers will have no sweet-smelling savor, I
unless they arc perfumed with the in
eense of his sacrifice and intercession.
It is a delight in the exercise of
prayer. The man who rejoices in God
must delight in prayer; the seasons of
j devotion are reflected on, and antici-1
I pated by hint with feelings of holy
pleasure and delight.
Its source. It is not human, but
divine. It springs
From the operations of the Spirit.
If the soul is animated, and burns with |
devotion, it is he that enkindles the
fire—the Spirit is the spring that moves j
us, the wind that blows on us, the j
power that influences us, and the light
that illumines us.
From the supplies of grace. If the
Spirit lights up the fire of devotion in
the heart, grace is the oil that keeps it
alive. We cannot delight in prayer if j
we are not spiritually quickened. Pray- j
er without grace is prayer without |
wings.
From the reception of former favours.
Those who have found mercy and
obtained help from God in the past,
should delight in approaching him, that \
his gracious acts may be repeated.
Its advantages. They, are inesti
mable, beyond calculation, and sur
passing human conception. Prayer ac
complishes wonders for the believer;
it inspires him with lively emotions of
joy, emboldens him in danger, supports
him in the conflict, consoles him in
sorrow, animates him in death, and
lights him to glory, where the language
of prayer shall bo exchanged for the
shouts of praise.
Rest on the Sabbath.—Whether we
] look at the Sabbath as a day of rest
] from the common toils of life, or as a
day hallowed and consecrated to the
worship of God, we are alike struck
with the wisdom and mercy of God
displayed in this institution. Man and
beast require relaxation, that the ener
gies expended in the labour of six days
; may be renewed, and each prepared
] for the efforts of another week. No
j doubt remains but that our physical
l nature can accomplish more in the
j space of a year’s toil, by resting one
seventh portion of our time, than if
the whole seven days were employed,
j And then it forms a kind of holiday
j period, to which the mind looks for
j ward as a pause in the busy scenes of
! life, and gives relief even by anticipa
tion. One constant, unbending round,
; so weary body and mind as to render
toil intolerable, and make the hours to
labouring man gloomy and burden
some.
But look at the Sabbath as a day of
worship. The very idea of going to
the house of prayer with equipage neat
and clean, suitable to a decent worship
of the God of order, promote the
health and happiness of those who live
in Christendom. And then, the very
fact that the mind is called off from
earthly pursuits and directed to those
subjects that are of a holier character,
has a tendency to elevate the thoughts
and feelings of our nature, and cannot
fail to sublimate and refute society.—
With what cheerfulness does the mind
of the devout worshipper address itself
to its weekly task, after the rest of
the Sabbath and the devout exercise of
worship in God’s holy sanctuary.—
Viewed in every light, goodness and
wisdom are displayed in the institution
of the Sabbath, and he is both ungrate
ful and profane who disregards the law
of God, commanding him to rest and
keep the Sabbath day holy.
Ipirit if flip ffim
Prepared for the Southern Literary Gazette. ”
QUOTABLE PARAGRAPHS. ,
A New Orleans paper in allu
] sion to the fact that a lady recently
pleaded her ow n cause in a Paris cbtirt
of justice, says : f
“We never saw but one lady * /
ing a case in our courts It was a)us.
Gaines, who, in 1842, appeared inYthe
Frst District Court, (Judge Buchajm)
accompanied by her gallant huskahd,
in undress uniform, witha sword iuck
led to his side. It happened thatjMrs.
G.’s lawyers,becoming dissatisfied ith
! some decision of the court, retired
from the ease, whereupon the signi
fied veteran advanced towards th* law
yer’s table, leading liis lady Ins the
hand, and begged that the court would
allow the lady to plead her own c3bse.
The scene was quite an interesting one. I
There stood on one side an array of
our oldest and most learned counsel
lors, who were resisting the lady’ypre
tensions with all their skill and ability,
with a large battery of law-book* lying
before them. On the other side stood
the bright-eyed, handsome littby.’isdv,
‘llld tho Gripot ttud waftl)ni*.\’Pd ,j
I ...11 I mi t ** 1
lierjrallant husband. The ch’*n
’ lady to be beard*fit befown ejtweinirtji
not be denied. She proceeded in her
i remarks, but soon became so piquant
j and personal that the J udge interfered,
i and begged her to confine herself to
| the argument. Thereupon the gallant
General arose, and, in a slow and mea
sured style, stated that for everything
j that, the lady should say he held him
self personally responsible in every
I'manner and form, in court and out of
court. This allusion pretty soon quiet
ed the sniggling of some young attor
neys who were present, and who ap
peared mightily tickled with the scene.
Mrs. Gaines was permitted to go on
and argue her case to a conclusion.
The West will soon have a lan
guage of its own. The peculiar style
and phrases abound more and more.
In the Back-eye Eagle , an Ohio paper,
we find Jenny Lind thus noticed :
‘-.She is,in fact, like the mocking-bird,
- (of which 1 see such numbers encaged
in this city,) beating a very other bird
out of sight, even in their own peculiar
notes. Her rendering of that magnifi
cent composition of Handel, “I know
that my Redeemer liveth,” and of
“Sweet Home,” on this occasion, caus
ed a speedy and decided crawfishing’
in my mind on the subject of Jenny’s
| singing English. She is, most assnred
[ ly, a greatmang more pumpkins in this
j line than i at first gave her credit for
being; and this opinion, I suppose,
1 arises from the fact that 1 have now
begun to ‘git the hang' 1 of her style.—
The music of the first-mentioned piece
j is of almost unearthly sublimity, and
if there is anything more heavenly in
heaven itself it is indeed worth all the
j cflort it is said to require, to try to get
I there.”
The Oswego Times has the fol
lowing items in regard o the rich men.
i of New York :
“Stewart, the •merchant prince, Dr.
Moffat and Win. B. Astor, are mono
; polising nearly the whole of Broadway,
; both above and around and under
ground. They are generally reputed
j tcil to be the richest trio in the city.
Which is the wealthiest, 1 can’t say.
It appears from a statement made by
! the deputy receiver of taxes, that Mr.
Astor is possessed of property to the
! amount of $2.000,300, and that his
yearly taxes amount to the snug little
sum of $.‘10,000. If that is all he is
worth, Dr. Moffat is the richer man of
the two; but. the probability is, that
Mr. Astor is worth over $3,000,000.
! Dr. Moffat’s dwelling house, with its
j out-buildings, is valued at $185,000,
j and he owns other property in the city
| to the amount of over a million and a
half. Besides this, he owns a Bank in
\\ all street, and farms almost innu
merable, within a hundred miles of
New York. His Life Pills and Phoe
nix Bitters yield him a vast revenue,
which in addition to his rents and in
terest on money loaned, renders his
income truly enormous. Stewart is
said to be worth $3,000,000. He does
a business of over 2.000,000 a year,
which must yield an income of over
$200,000 per annum. Stewart is near
ly 70 years of age, Astor is about 45,
and Dr. Moffat is betwixt 30 and 35
years old, so that the Doctor lias the
advantage of his rivals, most decided
ly.”
The editor of the Savannah
News thus describes a singular visita
tion which lately came upon him in
his sanctum:
“W e were completely taken aback !
yesterday morning by the entrance in
to our sanctum of a full-rigged Bloom
er—with pink tunic, just reeching to .
the knees, jaunty blue silk cap and
white lace Turkish what-d’ve-eall’ems
worn over another pair of unmention
ables of a different material. Luckily
for us, we chanced not to be entirely
alone, for what would have become of
us we are unable to conjecture. As it
was our well known modesty was ex- I
ceedingly shocked, and it was some
minutes before we could—encouraged
as we were by the presence of our
friend—calmly regard the novel spec
tacle. The wearer of the new Cos
tume was a very beautiful, well formed
large sized Doll, which had been dres
sed, and sent to us by a young lady
friend, in order that we might have a
correct idea of the new dress, so much
talked of at present.
1 he dress is very becoming to Dolls,
but if our fair costumer would have
our judgment on its adaptation to her
sex, she must present herself in pro
j/ria persona, in the new Costume. —
After having seen the Doll, we believe
we could venture to look upon a real
flesh and blood Bloomer, through our
lingers—especially if she were young
and handsome.
A Lowell “factory girl,” wri
ting from one of the interior towns in
Georgia, to the Lowell Adveetiser, gives
the following description of a southern
cotton mill:
“When 1 first went into the mill 1
was speech less, but my tongue has since ;
been loosened and I have expressed j
my mind in tolerably plain English, j
fl’hfc girls in the mill arc so ignorant
r hal we have to talk with them as
hough they were children not more
ban three years old. They keep their
bonnets on w hen in the mill, and also
the men their hats. There is but one
jelock in the mill, and no looking glass
until we carried in our own.
“A Northern hog-peu is a parlour,
kvheii placed in comparison with the mill.
We had such a disturbance about the
dirt, that the first superintendent came
in, with a hoe and shovel, and com
menced work around the sink.as though
he was in a barn. Nearly all thegirls
in the mill chew tobacco. They have
also a small stick, nearly as large as a
pipe-stem, one end of which they chew,
until it is something like a brush, then
they dip it in snuff, put it in their
months, and suck it like a babe. They
pay twenty-five cents a bottle for snuff
one of which will last them a week.”
: lhe Panama Herald relates
the following case of elopement:
“A lady at .San Francisco, on the
morning of the sailing of the Tennes
see, was quietly seated, reading over
the list of passengers who had engaged
passage for Panama, when to her as
tonished sight there appeared the name
‘of her husband in thelist? Could she be
lieve her own eyes f Bho knew that her
MVSbaiTtrS Tnrrmw 1.T..1TC and that
he had informed her “he was obliged to
go to Sacramento on business which
would detain him a few days. Start
led and convinced by the truth thus
manifested to her, she concluded to
open his trunks where she found SB.-
000 in hard cash. This she divided
taking $3,000 and leaving $5,000, the
“lion’s share,” which was exceedingly
generous on her [.art. In due time the
affectionate husband bade her good
bye, telling her he would be back in
three or four days, and little suspect
ing that she was not only cognizant of
his villany, but that out of his means,
she had provided amply lor herself.—
lie left—went on board the Tennessee
—canto to this city, and is now on his
way to New York, whilst his deserted
wife is rejoicing to think that she has
so easily got rid of such a contempti
ble wretch as his conduct proves him
to be.”
(olnmingH in tlir Jihranj.
Prepared for the Southern Lirerary Gazette.
markedpPassages.
HAWTHORNE.
If we were obliged to designate the
style of Hawthorne in a single w ord,we
should call it metaphysical, or perhaps
soulful, lie always takes us below
the surface and beyond the material;
his most inartificial stories are eminent
ly suggestive; he makes us breathe
the air of contemplation, and turns our
eyes inward. It is as if we w ent forth
in a dream, into the stillness of an au
tumnal wood, or stood alone in a vast
i gallery of old pictures, or moved slow
! ly, w ith muffled tread, over a wide
plain, amid a gentle fall of snow, or
mused on a ship’s deck, at sea, by
moonlight; the appeal is to the retro
spective, the introspective to what is
thoughtful and profoundly conscious in
our nature and whereby it communes
witli tile mysteries of life and the oc
cult intimations of nature. And yet
there is no painful extravagance, no
transcendental vagaries in Hawthorne;
his imagination is as human as his
heart; if he touches the horizon of the
infinite, it is with reverence; if he
deals with th anomalies of sentiment,
it is with intelligence and tenderness.
His utterance too is singularly clear
and simple; his style only rises above
the colloquial in the sustained order of
its flow ; the terms are apt, natural and
fitly chosen. Indeed, a careless read
er is liable continually to lose sight of
his meaning and beauty, from the en
tire absence of pretension in his style.
It is requisite to bear in mind the uni
versal truth, that all great and true
things are remarkable for simplicity ;
the direct method is the pledge of sin
cerity, avoidance of the conventional,
an instinct of richly-endowed minds;
and the perfection of art never dazzles
or overpowers, but gradually wins and
warms us to an enduring and noble
love. The style of Hawthorne is whol
ly inevasive; he resorts to no tricks of
rhetoric or verbal ingenuity; language
is to him a crystal medium through
which to let us see the play of his hu
mour, the glow of his sympathy, and
the truth of his observation.
[ Tuckerman.
OOETIIE, .ETAT. 72.
The door opened from the further
end of the reception-room, and as his
excellency’s tall, gaunt form, w rapped
in a long blue surtout, which hung
loosely on him, slowly advanced, he
had veritably the air and aspect of a
revenant. His was not an appearance
but an apparition. Evidently and un
mistakeably, he had belonged to anoth
er world w hich had long since passed
away; hut malgre attenuation and
some traces of impaired health (such
as a yellow suffusion of the eyeballs,)
there were, nevertheless, indications
that the smouldering lire of youth yet
lingered in that gaunt frame, and that,
I though he had belonged to a past world,
he was yet perfectly able to sustain a
part in the present.
[Gillie's Memoirs of a Lit. Veteran.
“Well! we always hope to live in
the thick of all that we desire, some
day ; and, meantime, we do live there
as well as imagination can contrive it,
which she does in a better manner than
is lealized by many a possessor of
oaks. A book, a picture, a memory,
a inomory, puts us in the twinkling of
an eye, in the midst of the most en
chanting solitudes. And it does not
at all baulk us, when we look up and
find ourselves sitting in a little room
with a fireplace, and, perhaps, with
some town-cry coming along the street.”
[Leigh Hunt.
MEN’S THEORIES AND DESIRES.
Pull to pieces a man’s theory of
things, and you will find it based upon
facts collected at the suggestion of his
desires. A fiery passion consumes all
evidences opposed to its gratification j
and, fusing together those that serve
its purpose, casts them into weapons
:by which to achive its end. There is
no deed so vicious but what the actor I
makes I'or himself an excuse to justify
| and if the deed is often repeated, such
; excuse becomes a i^eed.
[Spencers Social Statics.
DISTANCE.
“Are not all natural things, it may
be asked, as lovely near as far away !
Nav, not ><>. Look at the clouds and
watch the delicate sculpture of their
alabaster sides, and the rounded lustre
of their magnificent rolling. They
were meant to be beheld far away;
they were shaped for their place, high
above your head ; approach them and
they fuse into vague mists, or whirl
away in fierce fragments of thunderous
vapour. Look at the crest of the Alp,
from the far away plains over which
its light is cast, whence human souls
ha\e communion with it by their my
riads. The child looks up to it in the
dawn, and the husbandman in the bur
den and heat of the day, and the old
man in the going down of the sun, and
it is to them all as the celestial city on
the world’s horison ; dyed with the j
depth of heaven and clothed with the
calm of eternity. There was it set tor
j holy dominion by Him who marked
; for the sun his journey and bade the
moon know her going down. It was
| built for its place in the far oil sky; :
i approach it, and as the sound of the j
| voice or man dies away about its foun-
I dation, and the tide of human life i
shallowed upon the vast serial shore, is
at last met by the Eternal “Here shall
| thv waves be stayed,” the glory of its
j u-qject fades into blanched tearfulness; ;
j-0., ...alls .i'cul ip to grisly
rocks, its silver fretwork sauWefieir'fiT- ‘
to wasting snow; the storm-brands of
ages are on its breast, the ashes of its
own ruin lie solemnly on its white rai- j
merit. — Raskin.
EVILS OE HABIT.. AL NOVEL-READING.
It cannot but he injurious that the
human mind should never be called
into effort. The habit of receiving .
pleasure without any exertion of
thought by the mere excitement of cu
riosity and sensibility, may be justly
ranked among the worst effects of ha
bitual novel reading. Those who con
fine their reading to such books, dwarf
their own faculties, and finally reduce :
their understanding to a deplorable im
becility. Like idle morning visitors, ;
the brisk and breathless p, riods hurry
in and hurry off in quick and profit
less succession, each indeed for the mo
ments of its stay prevents the pain of
vacancy, while it indulges the love of
sloth; but, altogether, they leave the
mistress of the house (the soul 1 mean)
flat and exhausted, incapable of attend
ing to their own concerns, and unfitted
for the conversation of more rational
guests.— S. T. Coleridge.
PIiCEBE.
Phoebe’s presence made a home
about her, —that very sphere which the
outcast, the prisoner, the potentate, the
wretch beneath mankind, the wretch I
aside from it, or the wretch above it,
instinctively pine after—a home. She t
was real! Holding her hand, you telt
something; a tender something; a
substance and a warm one : and so long
as yon could feel its grasp, soft as it
was , you might he certain that your ,
place was good in the whole sympathetic
chain of human nature. The world 1
was no longer a delusion.
[Hawthorne.
(T’ljr Ilroiruirr.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
AIR. EVERETT’S REVIEWER AND HIS
ASSAILANT.
Messrs. Editors: Still professing his
inability to understand the secret of
the extraordinary tone and spirit per- i
sisteel in by your correspondent, “15.” :
or why he should caricature the style of I
Junius in posecuting a purely literary
discussion, the Reviewer will proceed,
as before, to sitt out from their incum
brances the purely philological princi
ples involved in the discussion, endea
vouring to set forth their true merits,
together with the present state of the
question.
1 The charge of deprecating the in
troduction of now terms into the lan
guage seems to be abandoned.
2. 1 lie Reviewer’s statement that a
sentence may have both a logical and
grammatical bearing at the same time,
is not rebutted, but, on the contrary,
confirmed, by the quotation from
Archbishop Whately, that “a proposi
tion must not be ambiguous, nor im
perfect, nor ungrammatical.” The Re
viewer’s statement was, as far as ap
pears, neither ambiguous, nor imper
fect, nor ungrammatical, nor illogical
either. A sentence may have all these
qualities together, or their opposites,
and even many other qualities, without
their interfering with, or contradicting
each other. The purport of your cor
respondent’s sneer is, that if a logical
meaning can be assigned to a proposi
tion, it must necessarily exclude a
grammatical one.
3. The active-transitive definition of
laugh , (“to ridicule”) quoted by your
correspondent from Webster, confirms
the position of the Reviewer, since the
most common meaning of laughable is
ridiculous, showing that the transitive
purport of to ridicule is employed in
its fabrication. Nor is the Review. r's
alternative of deriving laughable from
the noun, in any wise inconsistent with
his other position, since in all these
cases, the noun, by a well-known agen
cy in the philosophy of language and
of the human mind, assumes the sig
nificance of a transitive verb, as in the
very instances before cited by the Re
viewer, such as unmarketable, saleable ,
Ac., where market and sale have the
significance of the active verbs to mar
ket away or to sell. The Reviewer, in
suggesting the alternative in question,
presumed upon an acquaintance in his
readers with this rather familiar prin
ciple. lhat laugh can sometimes be
technically parsed as a noun and some
times as a verb, does not destroy the
inherent affinity, or rather the original
identity, of the two grammatical acci
dents in one word. Many philologists
maintain that the primitive significance
of every word in the language involves
only the idea of action. Such is al
most certainly the case ir the Hebrew.
We must not permit grammatical con
ventionalities and habitudes to destroy
our sense of the inherent distinctions
and nature of things.
4. With regard to the word unaton
able, it seems to supply a still stronger
confirmation of the doctrine of the Re
viewer. In the first place, it appears
there is no such word in the language
as a tollable, which is a proof that the
intransitive for atone for has never sent
off a derivative corresponding to reli
able. In the next place, all the dic
tionaries define unatonable as signify
ing not to be appeased—not to be recon
\ died. And that this comes from the
! transitive meaning of the word atone,
1 is evident,, mu only trom the lace of
the word itself and its invariable ap
! plications, but from the well-known
j construction and etymology’ of atone,
! at once, signifying to reconcile, or re
! store to unity. Thus it appears the
i original and primary import of atone
! is transitive, and that its intransitive
form with the preposition for, is a sub
i sequent modification. Accordingly,
; Riohaidson, in his excellent Dictionary
i o*’ .uuul
beyond \V ebster hi representing ,
the transitive character of this verb. !
In his definition of atone, he makes it !
signify, “To be, or cause to be. at one;
and the other transitive meanings which j
lie gives, are equally emphatic and
prominent, viz. to return or restore to
favour to reconcile., to satisfy, to propiti
ate. These lie follows up by a series of j
authorities, which go far to protect the
scholarly Pope rom the sarcasm of
your correspondent. Can we suppose
Shakespeare to have been only making
an iambus, when he wrote in his
< Ithello:
Lod. Is there division ’twixt my Lord and
Cassia ?
Ues. A most unhappy one: t would do much
T’ alone them, for the love I bear to
Cassia.
Did lieauiuonl and Fletcher only
mean to force in an iambus when they
wrote:
“ I have been atoning two most wrangling
neighbours?”
Did Bishop Beveridge ungrammatical
ly emply employ an iambus in prose, j
when he defined a word in the Hebrew
as signifying “to appease, to pacify, to
reconcile a person offended, to alone or
make him at one again with the of
fender? Was Dry den merely sport
ing an iambus when he wrote:
“ The King and haughty empress, to our
wonder,
If not atoned, yet seemingly at peace 1”
In fact, it is rather remarkable, that in
i showing the progress of the English ]
language in the use of this word, Rich- j
ardson gives none but transitive ac- i
eeptations.
5. The Reviewer's remarks on the j
word accessible, seeming to have eli I
cited no other reply than sarcasm, j
require no farther accompaniment than j
silence.
What now is the position which the
discussion has assumed? The Re
viewer, in his original article, had an- j
| ticipated the possibility that the suspi- j
cious word reliable might be found in j
some late edition of Webster, and pro- i
ceeded to give his reasons (he trusts I
and thinks with all becoming modesty j
and diffidence) for “opining that it !
ought not, to he there.” These reasons
were founded on considerations of spe
cial etymology, of analogy, of the in
herent genius of the English language, j
and of a large induction of examples,
both of neuter and active verbs, to be
indefinitely accumulated at every open
ing of the dictionary—all which con
siderations were >et forth, at some
length, in the Review. Now, the ut
most that your correspondent “ B.” has
attempted to do, has been, not to ap
proach, at all, the direct considerations
and positions advanced by the Review
er, but only to suggest a few, as we
have seen, untenable, and, at the very
most, one or two dubious exceptions to i
the whole obvious nature and tendency ;
of the English language. The Reviewer,
indeed, in Ins article, had strongly ex
pressed his confidence that no such ex
ceptions could be found. But he by no
means staked the general truth and rec
titude of his theory on the absence of
such exceptions. An exception never
overthrows a rule. A white frost in
July converts not summer into winter,
lo weaken the force of predominant,
or rather universal analogies and ten
dencies, you must demonstrate oppo
site analogies and tendencies to exist of
equal moment and extent. Even, there
fore, had your correspondent succeeded
in establishing the four or five excep
tions whose first appearance misled
him, the entire scope and purport of
his enterprise, as a literary one, would
have been abortive. It is precisely
as if he had maintained that because
Shakspeare and Thomas Campbell
sometimes allowably employ the pro
noun ye as an objective after a verb or
a preposition, therefore it would be
proper to encourage the indiscriminate
use of nominative pronouns for objec
tives, and without a word of remon
strance, permit every person at will to
say, Give it to /, Speak to she, Take it
from they, I see ye to-day, &e.
lliis whole onset, therefore, being
thus reduced to a point of such sorry
insignificance, it need not, perhaps, be
remarked, that, until something shall
appear, from some quarter, of more
essential seriousness and importance,
your readers will he troubled with no
further replication from
THE REVIEWER.
Jfiiarttlcraj.
AMERICAN DEFERENCE TO
WOMEN.
Some of our fashion-tinkering con
temporaries are sighing over the undue
freedom of locomotion and conduct on
joyed by American women. A little
incident, which occurred the other day
iu oureiiy, shows with what confidence
American women can rely upon the
politeness of American men, and how
far they are from misconstruing the
frankness and natural freedom of the
gentler sex. One ot the fifth avenue
oinnibusses, in passing through Ele
venth street, was hailed by a bevy of
young ladies. The omnibus was al
most entirely filled with gentlemen.—
The driver, however, pulled up, for
when, indeed, was an omnibus driver
known to hesitate about stopping fora
fare, or for the fair, and told them there
was only room for two. The spokes
woman of the party, who, happily for
herself and her companion , was re
markably pretty, clasped her hands to
gether with an animated gesture of dis
appointment, and exclaimed: “Oh, 1
am so sorry, so very sorry. W e have
friends about to sail for Europe in the
steamer. Every minute is precious,
and if you can’t take us down, we shall
! be too late to see and bid them gooeLi
bye. sb*r.v.. ite *” ocen *
IwuiL sjkfa lie jjjlibn- „ eiV in ‘ mfy _
! them, i W ji.-.*el>|fof out. jAe
their places to the ladies, and Hue
driver whirled them away, not only to
the end of his route, but round to the
! steamer’s dock, on the North river! -
! Talk of American women not being
able to do anything in the world in this
i community after that. Why, there is
not a place in the old world w here such
a thing could, by the wildest effort of
; imagination, be supposed possible;
there is not a gentleman in Europe, to
say nothing of its ordinary run of men,
! there is not in the most polished and
polite courtier of that side the globe
who would have felt called upon to
turn in his seat, much less aband n it
and walk, at such an appeal; and here
a whole omnibus-full turn out without /
a remonstrance or a regret, to oblige a (
| party of ladies, with whom not a soul
of them was acquainted, and whom, in,-
all human probability, they wou(d i
never see again. When our country
women are in Europe, and hear Ameri
can want of politeness sneered at by
Trollope and Diekt ns, let them quietly
relate this little omnibus incident for
the better enlightenment of their Pa
risian and London acquaintances.
[Parker's Journal.
Character of tiif. English, Irish
and Scotch.—Looking at the pojnila
: tion of the three kingdoms, it may ea
sily be perceived that there is a consi
derable difference amongst them w ith
respect to the temperament. The Irish
are gay, ardent; the Scotch are com
paratively eool, steady and cautious;
the English are, perhaps, a fair aver
age between the two; 1 remember it
was not inelegantly observed by a
friend of mine, that an Englishman
thinks and speaks; a Scotchman thinks
tw ice before he speaks; and an Irish
man speaks before be thinks. A lady
■ present, added, “ A Scotchman thinks
with his head, an Irishman with his
heart.” This allusion to impulse ope
rating more rapidly than deliberation,
] is akin to Miss Edgworth’s remark,
that an Irishman may err with his
| head, never with his heart; the truth,
j however, being, that he “obeys” his
ears,not always waiting for the dictates
of his head.
Some years ago, there was a eariea
| ture, very graphically portraying these
! grades of difference in the ardor of the
| three nations. An Englishman, an
Irishman ami a Scotchman, were repre
j sented as looking through a confeetion-
I er’s window at a beautiful young wo
! tnau serving in the shop. “Oh !” ex
j claimed Mr Patrick, “ do let us be after
j spending half-a-erown with the dear
: craythure, that we may look at her
conveniently, and have a bit of a chat
with her.” “You extravagant dog!”
says Mi. George, in’reply, “I’m sure
one half of the money will do quite as
well. But let us go in by all means;
she’s a charming girl.” “Ah! wait a
wee!” interposed Mr. Andrew; “dimia
ye ken it’ll serve our purpose equal 1}
well just to ask the bonnie lassie to gic
us twa sixpence for a shilling, and in
quire where’s Mr. Thompson’s house,
and sich like? We’re no hungry, and
may as well save the siller.” —London
Dispatch.
1 ransylvama.—Transylvania fits
I like a splendid jewel enchased by inag
j niticent mountains, whose summits arc
j reflected in the clear stream which they
send forth, showing to the inhabitants
of the plain, in every grain of gold
they carry down, the treasures that lie
buried in the great mountainous dis
trict which they descend. Gold and
silver, iron, lead arm copper, salt and
saltpetre,are found, together with rock,
and stones in which the garnet, ame
thyst and opal, sparkle in the most,
brilliant colours. The anemone waves
its head in the valley ; beside the brock
grows the speedwell; the sage and mini
fill the air with their perfume; magni
cent oaks and stately beeches rival
each other in beauty; on the heights
grows the splendid rhododendron; tin
mountain tops are crowned with the I
silver fir; and the blue-bell blossoms I
out its short existence in the woods.— 1
Magnificent steeds, with broad chest I
and iron fetlocks, such as can only be I
equalled in Arabia, graze in the plains 1
upon the naked rocks, where no plant I
takes root, are seen the chamois; an!
the wild goat inhabits the solitude
of inaccessible cliffs; above him th#
clouds, the eagle, and vultures /
every kind. There is no mounts’!-
land on the globe more grand or beau
tiful ; whilst the people, unlike tlir poor
crippled and idiotic creatures seen in
the Austrian Alps, are handsome and
well-formed. But, alas! the eur.-e •'!
race and language rests upon them, any ;
debars them from the enjoyinent H I
these blessings; indeed, this beautilm 1
country is, at the present time, one oil J
the most unhappy on the face “ftli-’H j
earth.— Max Schlesttiger.
a new book, 1 generally lu , l l §
at the end first; for authors, if they liauHa
any light at all. commonly contrive t>BH
show a little towards the tail-piec&Hjl
like glow-worms.— Mountford. k. JK
Crime.— In Hindustan, to touch mjw
priest; in New York, to sell fish
9 o’clock on Sunday morning. I