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Miscellany* From the New Yorker. CJutobfojjtaplig of a CSentua. “ ’Tis pleasant, sure, to see one’s name in print.” Lord Byron. The noble poet never wrote a line containing more truth than the above, when cutting and slashing among th- B i'ds of Britain. Its truth is tested by expedience. My ‘ ruling passion’ has been to enrol my name among the stars of the literary world. I have toiled and labored in vain. I have pursued, with a singlenees of purpose becoming better things, a delusion —a phantom —a bewitching ignis fatuus. I never doubted but 1 was indeed a genius ; and why should I ! Philosophers in sist that the sentiments and principles imbibed in youth govern us through life ; and I am a melancholy proof of this truism. I was flattered and car essed in my younger days, because a genius 1 The fact that I was one was early and seduously instilled into -any mind ; and, however unwillingly I at first oeheved it, I became in time no sceptic. I grew up with these first impressions, and my fondest aspirations were to see mv ‘ name in print.’— • There’s a divinity that shapes our ends’—md fortune giatified my impa tient longings. I was appointed 1 agent’ for a diminutive hebdomadal, crowded with ihe crude and puerile productions of infant authors. It went by the une uphomous name of ‘ The Phantasma goria.’ it was about the size of two quar to hhe? s—blue and meagre—‘sicklied o’er with.the pate cast of thought’— and was in truth the very skeleton, the very Calvin Edson of periodicals. My zeal and activity in ptocuring subscribers recommended me to the favorable notice of its enterprising pub lishers ; but I had a more glorious ob ject in view than their approbation. I was paving the way for honor among mankind Accordingly,one day i seat ed myself to indite an article which m g.r meet the favor of the presiding genius of the Phantasmagoria. But my jd as were lifeless, soundless, and as stagnant as the Dead Sea. *‘l bit mv nails and scratched mv head, n it found my wit and fancy fled.” ’ Perform without fail whatever you re solve,’ was the injunction of Franklin ; and do something towards accomplish ing the grand desideratum, I must. — In mere listnessness, I was turning over “the leaves of an old periodical, when a tale which I had often perused met my eye. The thought was instantaneous— -1 resolved this should be my first at tempt ; and seizing my quill—‘ that mighty instrument of little men’—l went to work. It was a teuious job, I hacked and mutilated the piece so that the author himself would have dis claimed it with disgust, and finally fin ished it to my liking. It was copied i, a lair round hand, superscribed, and forwarded post haste.. The subsequent week it appeared, with mv initials appended, accompan ied hv * flattering notice in another pai t of the piper. Here was glory! here was the goal, the boundary oTmy wish es, at once attained ; and I did ‘ lay the flattering unction to my soul’ with a vengeance,albeit a twinge of conscience would occasionally assail me; btit I di owned the voice of the monitor in the flood of praise which was lavished up on me. For some little time T was ‘ the ob served of all observers,’ My next at tempt must of course be one notch up ward ; and thus, like the young eagle, soa r higher and higher at every trial of my pinions, till at last I could bear awav into unbound space and assume a proud station among the gifted ones of the land. I composed, from certain materials, an affecting tale, and forwar ded it to the editor of anew periodical, which had sprung up like the mush room, and, with sounding pretentions to literary greatness, was diffusing its fragrance abroad—its diverging rays shedding light where darkness ever be fore existed. The first week passed, nd it remained unnoticed ; the second, 1 unfolded the capacious sheet, and surveyed i’ from page to page, but I w,again dbomed tobear the ‘sicken j:ig pz.)g of hope deferred’—it was not there. I then turned my attention to corner allotted ‘ to correspondents.’— My own initials caught my attention, and I read, as nearly as I can recollect, as follows: “ We have received a communication from a booby styling himself who elo quently beseeches us to overlook the faults of his /Srsr attempt, and regard with a kindly ! eye its manifold errors. We would forgive I the blockhead’s presumption and his futile j endeavor to impose upon us ; but we cannot j forgive the contemptible act of mangling an article from the pen of an old and valued English writer, and converting it into a mass of stupidity and bombastic nonsense. There arc, in same cases, circumstances which ex tenuate the crime of sheep-stealing —‘there are crimes made venial by the occasion’— but this admits no palliation. Let the au thor beware !”- I tried to laugh—it was a faint hys teric giggle. I grinned—so does the haie'ened pirate, when about to be launched into eternity !—hut it was the unearthly scowl of a demon. To ca.'i me a booby .' —a blockhead ! —‘this was the unkindest cut of all.’ I could he compared to a shec/i-stealer with complacency—l could not bear the im putation of being a thief, a plagiarist; but to be called a booby —me, a genius, an acknowledged one,too —a blockhead'. ’Sdeatii! ’twas beyond human patience to ([endure this. Job himself would have succumbed, and the frantic ebul lition of his passions would lave thrown into the back ground ; fori was com paratively calm I moved dot from my seat—and, after the first slock, Zeno the stoic could not have formed a bet- ‘ ter picture of imperturbability. ft was long ere 1 could recover it. | There was no opportunity for revenge, and I was compelled to swallow the disgusting draught, though as destruc tive to my mental peace as the baneful j hemlock to the physical system of So-j crates. After this my feelings under-! went a revulsion. I did not, as before,: pursue a fleeting phantom, false as the mirage of the desert; yet there still lin gered a hankering for fame —a desire! to raise myself above those who sur-1 rounded me —but I kept it concealed within me; notwithstanding I thought myself, and from my soul believedthat I was a genius : nothing could divest me of that belief. But, “ There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which,taken at the flood,leads on to fortune: Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries.” So saith him of Stratford-on-Avon—l believe him : ’Tis obvious that [‘omit ted,’ and hence my misfortunes. I now come to a period in mv ‘ pil grimage’ which is painful, yet the only time to which I can avert with senti ments of pleasure. ‘ First love i’— there is a magic in those syllables—a something which changes 4 the spirit of our dream,’ and telleth of happiness—• of bliss unalloyed. Yes, after the check I received in my fruitless schemes of ambition, I turned the current of my thoughts into another channel, and, like Sardanapalus, “ I would not give the smile of one fair girl For all the popular breath that e’er divided A name from nothing.” Sweet Clara Williams! Thy name is redolent of love and fraught with re membrances of ‘ faded pains and plea sures.’ Reader! turn not away in dis gust. I shall not inflict upon thee a honeyed description of beauties and perfections which exist only in my chi merical imagination ; neither shall I de tail, for the especial edification, a long courtship. A few words will suffice to tell the tale of my youthful passion.— Clara Williams was very beautiful.— An exquisitely rounded —but a ttute to description ; though, believe me, dear reader,—maugre the treatment I received, she would have made a good original for Byron’s ‘ Haidee.’ With what grace would she sing those en chanting melodies of Moore’s— ‘ filling with silver sounds the overflowing air’ —and with what feelings did 1 listen to them, sitting as though rapt and scarce ly daring to respire, lest the spell, like that of the enchantress of old, were bro ken. Clara was but sixteen, two or three years younger than myself; and I ne ver harbored the thought that she cher ished other feelings towards me than would result from pure, genuine, and unchanging affection. I was confirm ed in the opinion that she knew me for * genius, and was proud of my regard of my love. 1 am no; constitution ally jealous, and it would require more than the inuendoes of an lago to excite ‘ the green-eyed monster. I want oc ular demonstration —-hints-'and insina tions are ‘ as the indie wind.’ One evening I visited my fair en chantress. She was absent; 1 seated myself, and waited until she returned. As I sat alone, I beard voices, and soon Clara Williams entered, accompanied by a Mr. R . The room was but dimly lighted, and they did not perceive me. I was the subject of their conver sation; and between astonishment and curiosity, I retiined my seat. Clara was speaking. “I lell you, Charles,” ( Charles? that sounded ve.y odd,) “ how we will serve him. The silly booby has been fluttering around me for some time;j and were justice done, lie should have a lesson.” “ Permit me to say,” interrupted R common sense, and that a mere hint or nick would accomplish nothing—it would he thrown away. You can com mand him to do any thing, and he will i obey. So just say something to incite j his enmity towaids me ; tell him some J tale of fancied wrong, and let him come to me ; and trust me, but he shall re ceive a castigation worthy”— I could endure this no longer,—and coming forward, observed to R that I feared his benevolent intentions would be frustrated. ‘To her I gave a glance of blended scorn and contempt, and, bowing to both, left the room. Here was another 1 freak of fortune.’ I was not contented, to be sure, but I smothered my emotion as well as I might; and from this time forward 1 eschewed the sex. They were bane ful to my sight; yea, I cursed them, and exclaimed in the words of Mer toun, “ I bid you beware of woman ; for as sure as death and sin came into the world by woman, so sure as their soft words and softer looks the utter destruction and ruin of all who put faith in them.” R and Clara Williams were married in a month. ‘ Sweet are the uses of adversity,’ and from adversity I learned caution. But again—l bestrode the bobby of au thorship; it was the only outlet lor my \ genius. I proceeded warily ; I applied myself to composition, and made my self believe that I excelled ; and wrote some three or four pieces, in order, if one were favorably received, to supply the public with others in immediate succession. And for this I ‘burnt the midnight taper’—for this I wrought late and early, till I could grant myself a respite and rest upon my oars; thus imitating Major Dalgetty, who, when he found any nourishment, laid in a stock sufficient to last him several days, fearing ho should find no more. I pre pared one of my articles for the press ; it covered several pages of foolscap closely written, and was most elaborate ly finished. I had meditated upon ev ery word before committing it to pa per, and had arranged every sentence with the most grammattical precision. Everything was as stiff, formal, and precise as a knight of olden time in ar mor. I had prevailed on a friend to share my couch lor one night, —and, before he came, had proceeded to my room, drawn forth the manuscript, and, when he entered, appeared busily engaged in writing, mar king erasures, and inter lineations. WillCcflburn was a genu ine, unsophisticated son of nature, gen erous and benevolent, but totally desti tute of romance—l had almost said im agination. On him I had determined to make my first trial. I panted for praise—for adulation. As / had fore seen, he inquired wtiat / was about; and after some pressing solicitations, /con sented to read it to him. “ But stop, (said he,) let me get into bed first, and then you can read at your leisure.’ I was in my element, and in a pompous voice / proceeded to read the tale.— Will was almost breathless, and I as cribed it to the intense and absorbing interest of the story. Presently he be gan to breathe quicker, and in a mo ment he —dear reader,be actually snor ed ! Yea, O shame, and O mankind ! I blush to record it. Yet even as the fleet Arabian steed gathers swiftness under the gentle impulse of its rider, so did Will Colborn’s melody increase, as sleep extended its power over him, till it became a quick and vigorous suc cession of tsnoiings ! The remem brance is agony. Here was no delu sion—’twas sober reality, I surveyed him ‘ more in sorrow than in anger,’ and ever and anon sighed profoundly And was it even so? The bantling upon which I had bestowed many hours of study and toil —was i(, after all, no thing but a soporige ? I rose deliber ately from my chair, clutched the oth er pieces in my hand with a frenzied grasp, and threw them into the well filled grate of Lehigh. I beheld them consume with a satisfaction which 1 had not felt for years, and threw myself be side my friend. Burning tears chased each other down my cheek, and I slept; and in the language of Coleridge’s ‘ An cient Mariner,’ *• “ A sadder and a wiser man, I rose the morrow morn.” Norna of Fitful-head saiih, ‘They who wax wise in their own conceit must be taught a bitter lesson by expe rience.’ It is true, and I have profit ed by mine. My barque has passed the rock of Scylla and the whirlpool of Charybdis, with but slight damage. I have withered the storm, and shall pur sue the voyage of life, rendered wiset by experience, and hardened by the ef fects of successive disappointments.— Reader, this s my first and last origin al production. I have abjured the im putation of being a genius, and betaken mj seif to the procurement of an honest livelihood. Farewell! B. Northjield, It. February, 1335. Origin of Day and Martin’s Blacking.—-” Mr. Day was a hair dresser in a humble way, and was then, as he now is, beneficient and charita ble in the extreme. One day a sofdiei entered his shop, and stated that he had just landed from an expedition, and had a long march before him, to reach his regiment; that his money was gone, and nothing but sickness, fatigue, and punishment awaited him, unless he could get a lilt on a coach. The wor thy baiher presented him with a guin ea, when the greatful soldier exclaim ed, “ God bless you, sir—how can I ever repay this? I have nothing in this world, exnepl”—pulling a dirty piece of paper out of his pocket—“a recipe for blacking: it is the best ever seen ; many a half-guinea have I had for it from the officers, and many bot tles have /sold; may you be able to get something for it to repay this you have given to the poor soldier—your kindness / never can eithei repay or forget.” Mr. Day, who was a shrewd man. inquired into tire truth of the sto ty, tried the blacking, and finding it good, commenced the manufacture and sale of it, and realized the loitune he now possesses; but we believe no one can say that he ever deceived or wrong ed a human being; and his charities, particularly the almshouses near Edge ware, will make him lor ages to come, what he certainly always has been, a shining character, and a lesson to this and future generations of what indus try can do in this wealthy and happy country, from the smallest beginnings. Oracle of Health. Royal Answer to an Address Now that so much has been said about the answer ol William the forth to the address of the citizens of London, it is amusing to look back and see the style adopted in such compositions in the early part of the sixteenth century. To a corporation petition presented to Henry the Eight, praying him to change his ministers in order to relieve his oppressed subjects, his Majesty re turned the following gracious answer: —„Wc, with all cur think it right strange, that ye, who be but brutes and inexperte folks, should tell us who be, and who be not, fit for our counsel.” It does not appear whether this peti tion was from the citizens of London. T roly Original. —A few days since a ladv stepped into a shoe store, and asked for her bill,—which being pre sented, a pair of “ Boy’s Shoes” was cbm ged, which she did not understand. “ Those -were -worn out by my boy , in going for your bill, ma’am.” “Please give credit,” said the lady, “ for one pair of Girl’s Shoes , worn out in run ning after them !” “ ’Tis done, ma’am, was the reply; and thus a longrunning account was settled, —Pitisburg States man. THINGS NOT ‘‘ IN ORDER” 1. To stand before the Church door before service. 2. To engage in ary kind of conver sation, even Religious, between the time of your going in, and the com mencement of worship. That interval should he spent in composing the thoughts for the solemnities of the ap proaching services. 3. To salute persons coming in, by bowing, smiling. Sec. It is profanation. To look around to catch the eye of a fiiend and smiling at any remark from the pulpit. 5. To permit your children to sit in any place except in your own pew. 6. 1 o allow them to he stuffing them selves; all the time with apples, sweet cakes, candy, or an* thing else. 7. Sleeping in Ufturch. 8. To be reaching for garments, of adjusting the dress, while the blessing is pronounced. 9. To commence laughing, talking and saluting one another, as soon as the people are dismissed. 10 To stand in the door or ailes, and delay others getting out. 11. To stand around the door, gaz ing at the ladies as they are leaving the Church, to see who conducts them, and many other things which as little concerns others. 12. lo read these items, and not endeavor to correct them.— Auburn. Gos. Alecs. Matrimonial Disappointment. — On Monday last a middle-aged couple, from the neighborhood of Appei’ey Bridge, presented themselves at the alter in the parish church of Bradford for the purpose of being bound in mat rimonyl* silken chains, when to the as tonishment of the spectators, and the grievous disappointment of the fains one, the intended who it was evident had partaken too freely of the joire of Sii John Barleycorn, de clared off", saying that he had a good mother sail living, who made him ve ry comfortable, and he thought ii” too bad” to desert her in her old age. The parties immediately left the church— the maid, in high dudgeon, went (iom:- ward, and the swain, with some com panions, to a neighboting public-house where, from the sacrifices which lie made to the jolly god, he soon forgot both mother and intended. It ‘may please the curious to learn that this amiable pair have endured a courtship of fifteen years.— Query, -which has been the -wooer; Leeds paper. Forensic Rebuke. A singular oc currence took place a few days since,, in one of our courts of justice, admira bly illustrative of the genius of cur country and of the independence of our bar. In the course of a trial, a young and very talented lawyer, in ex amining a witness asked a question which the Judge considered improper, and would not suffer to be put. In the progress of the cause, the Judge took occasion to ask the very question of the witness which he had interdicted to the counsel, whereupon that gentle man rose and respectfully protested against the question being put, on the. ground of his having been prevented doing so by the bench. Sir, said the Judge, rather austerely 4 I shall put whatever question I think proper ip my court. Your court sir? replied the barrister, I deny it to be so; it is my client’s court; it is my court; it is the people’s court, and not yours. It is unnessary to add that the Judge, see* ing the correctness of the remark, bowed with silent courtesy to the re buke, and the cause proceeded. Anecdote of Judge.Taunton.— His Lordship was very quick and smart at repartee. One of the neatest speci mens of his talent in this department occurred at his chambers not long since. An attorney applied to enlarge a rule for some purpose. It was granted. — The opposing attorney observed, that in the whole course of his experience he had never heard of a rule being en larged under such circumstances. “ I shall have the pleasure, then,” said the Judge, “ of enlarging the rule and your experience at the same time.”