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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b995729 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67605 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67605) diff --git a/old/67605-0.txt b/old/67605-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ce6c905..0000000 --- a/old/67605-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4729 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Oak Shade, or, Records of a -Village Literary Association, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Oak Shade, or, Records of a Village Literary Association - -Author: Various - -Editor: Maurice Eugene - -Release Date: March 11, 2022 [eBook #67605] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OAK SHADE, OR, RECORDS OF -A VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION *** - - - - - - THE - OAK SHADE, - - OR - - RECORDS - OF A - VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION. - - - EDITED BY - MAURICE EUGENE. - - - PHILADELPHIA: - WILLIS P. HAZZARD, - 178 CHESTNUT STREET. - 1855. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by - - ALEX. C. BRYSON, (for the Editor,) - - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, - in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. - - - ALEX. C. BRYSON, PRINTER, - 141 Chestnut Street. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - DEDICATION 5 - PREFACE 9 - HANS DUNDERMANN: THE DUTCH MISER 11 - THE WISDOM OF PRESERVING MODERATION IN OUR WISHES 43 - THE SICK MOTHER 53 - THE EXCELLENCIES OF LYING 75 - THE ALCHEMIST: OR, THE MAGIC FUNNEL 87 - THE BEAUTY OF A WELL-CULTIVATED HEART 123 - THE DREAM OF A LOAFER 133 - CONCLUSION 213 - - - - -DEDICATION. - - -In this age of prolific intellects, neither author nor editor is -compelled to search for a patron of letters amongst a horde of -illiterate and conceited noblemen, addle-pated princes and lords; nor -is he, in this progressive country, constrained to beg the favor of -some distinguished demagogue’s name to give caste or currency to the -lucubrations of his brain, or the compilations of his industry. This -may be regarded as a very favorable change in the times, yet it is not -without its inconveniences, which the editor has fully experienced. -Not being bold enough to violate a well-established precedent, and -send his volume forth into the world without a dedication, he was for -a while sorely perplexed in his inquiries for a proper person to whom -to inscribe it. Although modern progress could freely dispense with -the patronage of the nobility, it still retains the practice which -perpetuates their former importance in the literary market. Thus the -author who is too cautious to trample upon a time-honored custom, is -frequently no little embarrassed in his laudable efforts to observe it, -not having an array of aristocratic vanity, ever ready to be redeemed -from its insignificance through a lying dedication, from which to make -a choice to please his fancy. - -True, the editor might have determined to send his volume adrift under -false colors, by writing some imaginary creature’s name upon the -title-page, and then dedicated it to himself,--for which, no doubt, -he could have found precedents enough. After giving to this idea -the careful deliberation to which it was entitled, he came to the -conclusion that no better expedient could be devised to provide him -with an even disposition; for should he hear his name noised about by -every fool and knave, who are always so vociferous in their praise -or censure as to overrule entirely the worthier opinions of the wise -and honest, his temper would never fall below the seething point. -He therefore wisely avoided, in this wilful manner, to hazard both -his character and his happiness. “But,” he hears you ask, “had he no -rich and flourishing acquaintance, who would gladly have permitted -the inscription, and verily believed it a great honor?” He is not so -fortunate (or unfortunate, if you please,) as to be without at least -a score of the kind; but not one of whom would have failed to degrade -his book, through a cursed propensity “to turn everything into a -speculation.” Then, too, he might have dedicated it to some personal -friend, but upon looking around, he could see none whom he particularly -desired to own as such, except a few poor fellows with whom he -occasionally whiles away an entertaining hour on a gloomy Sunday. -Amongst these, however, he recognised none whose poverty,--than which -few things sooner fall under the ban of the world,--did not seem too -heavy a burthen to be borne by so unpretending a production. - -In this dilemma, his benevolence, perhaps a little influenced by the -thought that the man who reads his book is his best friend, came to his -aid, and he at once concluded that it should be generously and freely - -DEDICATED TO THE READER. - -He is not impelled to this by a design to propitiate the favor, to -influence the judgment, or to moderate the criticisms of any one, -but simply and solely by the charitable desire of pleasing all. He -thus provokes no one’s envy by showing more favor to another, and -gives to each the opportunity of having a book dedicated to himself. -Lest, however, the editor should furnish but another illustration of -the maxim, that “they who seek to please all, will surely succeed in -pleasing none,” it is here carefully set down--that should any not wish -the distinction sought to be conferred upon him in this dedication, he -may rest well assured that it was not in the least designed for him. -With this happy disposition to accommodate all, he has only to ask of -the reader, that his book be not consigned, before ascertaining what -it is made of, to some murky closet, to keep company with the dusty -and decaying volumes already imprisoned there; and for the faithful -observance of this request, he subscribes himself, - - Most respectfully and sincerely, - His Reader’s wellwisher and friend, - THE EDITOR. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -If it has been established as a precedent that every book should have -a dedication, it has been more imperatively enjoined that none should -make its appearance without a preface. These are matters of punctilio -which it might appear ill-breeding to neglect, and constitute the soft -and easy civilities through which books find favor in the eyes of their -readers. As no one is disposed kindly to welcome the rude boor who -intrudes into his presence, and without a polite nod or pleasant smile -at once encounters him with rough speech, so none is inclined to enter -upon the perusal of a volume without first knowing somewhat concerning -it. - -Now, it is only necessary for the editor, in the discharge of his -trifling duty, to inform the reader that sometime ago the records of an -old association came into his possession. The precise date when this -junto was formed could not be definitely discovered, yet it has been -certainly ascertained that it was gifted with a very peculiar kind of -life--surpassing, in the tenacity with which it adhered to existence, -the nine lives ascribed to the cat. Though it had been defunct, to -all appearances, more than a dozen times, it was as often revived to -flourish again for a brief period. Not many years have elapsed since -it received its last blow; but whether this has given it the final -quietus, being neither a diviner nor prophet, the editor cannot decide: -yet he is inclined to the opinion, that if those of the present -generation will do nothing to restore it to life again, their rising -posterity will not suffer it to sleep in peace. - -It was the design of this organization to unite the useful with the -amusing, and each member was required to furnish his quota of the one -or the other. The consequence was that a large number of papers were -collected together, some of which are now “for the first time given to -the world.” Whether the world will do them the honor to value them, -remains to be seen; yet the editor flatters himself, that in the deluge -of literature which this age is incessantly pouring forth upon the -poor reader, they will float along with the endless array of small -craft, and perhaps his book may prove as successful as some others in -contributing its just portion to produce the wreck and ruin of some -better and worthier production. - -The Magi of Persia were at one time the depositories of learning. -With us the people are the Magi, and although their unaccountable -tastes and Quixotic fancies have heretofore elevated into note the -effusions of many a fool who experimented upon their discrimination, -and permitted the productions of some very wise men to sink into utter -and irredeemable oblivion, the editor still trusts--if not to their -judgment, then (which may be safer for him,) to their good-natured -indulgence. He is fully aware that his book contains nothing above -their comprehensions, and is not in the least apprehensive that they -will condemn the RECORDS, as an old council did the _Petit Office_, -because “_signo_” was spelt with a C instead of an S: much less does he -fear that his freedom will be endangered for the reason which prompted -the same council to arrest the Prince de la Mirandola, because “so much -learning in so young a person could only be acquired by a compact with -the devil.” - - MAURICE EUGENE. - - PHILADELPHIA, _March 26, 1855_. - - - - -A MANUSCRIPT, - -PREFIXED TO THE FOLLOWING TALE, AND SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY -THE SECRETARY OF THE JUNTO. - - -The author of the following paper vouches for the correctness of the -whole story, having himself received it from the person who enacted the -part of the spirit therein. When it was read at our meeting, a large -number of listeners, who had been enjoying themselves in promiscuous -conversation, were seated around the table in a cheerful circle. -Although some were at first inclined, perhaps more from a habit to -find fault than from a displeasure at the tale itself, to cavil at and -doubt it rather than to be amused, there was an honest and bewitching -humor in the face of the speaker which alone seemed to entitle his -story to full belief: so that by the time he had finished it, but one -or two continued serious, whilst all the rest at once agreed that it -was creditable in every particular. Whether they were not influenced to -this conclusion more through their mirth than their careful judgment, I -could not well ascertain; yet I am disposed to think, they merely meant -to “take the story for what it was worth.” - -An old gentleman now advanced, who had not only been careful all his -life long to avoid the frivolities of the world, but who had also -experienced some of its rough realities, if true inferences were -deducible from his care-worn appearance and thread-bare garments. -Not satisfied with what had been read, the old man gazed inquiringly -into the speaker’s face, and then so overwhelmed the poor fellow with -troublesome questions, that he resolved from that moment never to -read or narrate another story, without previously demanding a solemn -pledge from his auditory that they will remain content with what he -may choose to give them, and under no circumstances trouble him for -further explanations. Whilst thus pelted with the old man’s queries to -his great relief a smiling little gentleman stepped up, and turning to -the questioner, told him that every story would be spoiled by too much -minuteness in its narration; that wherever he found a blank he should -fill it up with his own fancy, otherwise he would experience nothing -but annoyance; and that the moral of the tale he had heard, simply -warned him against too strong a love for worldly things,--a warning for -which I could see no necessity in his case,--so that if he should ever -be tempted by spirits or ghosts, he might avoid the alarming fatalities -which so seriously afflicted poor Hans Dundermann. - - S----Y. - - - - -HANS DUNDERMANN: THE DUTCH MISER. - - -One of the most foolish and deplorable passions that could possibly -influence the conduct of men, is that wretched penuriousness so -frequently encountered in our intercourse with some of our fellows. -We often find it the object of hatred and contempt, of disgust and -ridicule, and even of a bitter malice which, if not just, seldom -secures censure or elicits rebuke. We rarely see it exhibited to a -very marked degree in men of substantial intelligence or liberal -experience in the socialities of life, and its generous interchanges -of friendship. When discovered in such, it is usually the part of -discretion to avoid, if possible, a close intimacy with them. The wider -range of their knowledge, and their greater sagacity, though rendering -them less contemptible, only make them the more dangerous. It not -unfrequently, however, constitutes the ruling principle of those not -possessed of a superior order of intellect, and whose ideas of life -are measured by the narrow aims for which they contend and struggle. -This may, perhaps, be greatly owing to the fact that wealth consists of -material things, which they can readily see and appreciate; whilst the -riches that pertain to mind and heart, not being directly visible to -them, are beyond their comprehension. - -I have a German acquaintance who resides in a small village at which I -occasionally sojourn, and who is known by the euphonious nomenclature -of Dutch Hans Dundermann. Whether this be the name he lawfully -inherited from his paternal ancestors, or whether certain peculiarities -of which he is remarkably possessed, and which are by no means well -calculated to render him an agreeable companion, or make him a -desirable neighbor, can claim the credit of having obtained for him so -musical an appellation, the villagers have not yet been able positively -to determine. However he may have acquired this title of recognition, -which can be matter of small consequence to the present generation of -the villagers, and much less to their rising posterity, he is one of -those inveterate misers who have no scruples to check their desire -for acquisition, and whose parsimonious propensities invariably incur -general ridicule and displeasure. Whatever of good may be in their -compositions is totally overshadowed by the sordid motives which -usually govern them, and thus they always prove successful in arousing -the disgust of all with whom they may come in contact. This miserly -element in Hans Dundermann’s character is so exceedingly prominent that -it is supposed to counterbalance and control his entire nature. It is -constantly urging him to the commission of acts which his neighbors -readily construe into heinous offences, and it has accordingly earned -for him no very enviable reputation. To describe to any one acquainted -with him the height of petty and disgusting meanness, it is only -necessary to use his name in the adjective form; and the attempts to do -so are not unfrequently even more ridiculous than the subjects which -occasion them. Hans, however, though he may exert himself to increase -his store, if not absolutely lazy, is not free from the slowness of -his native race; to which he adds a stupidity so excessively Dutch, -that scarcely anything beyond the glitter of a coin can make the least -impression upon his mind. - -After thus briefly introducing my acquaintance in as favorable a manner -as circumstances permit, I will narrate a little incident in the -adventurous portion of his life, which occurred whilst he was yet in -the vigor of manhood physically, and intellectually no better off than -he is now. Time, which never progresses without making some changes, -has utterly failed to renovate or improve him. Whilst advancing years -have worn upon his bodily powers, apparently the only thing impressible -about him, experience has had no effect, either for the better or -worse, upon his mind, into which no idea, unless connected with his -ruling desire, seems capable of penetrating. A life so selfish, and -absorbed in the contemplation of one thing, and that by no means as -well intended to expand his intellect as to contract his heart, can -afford but little of adventure; yet the trifles which we sometimes -encounter in such a life, are so peculiar in their nature, or so marked -in their effects, that we welcome and enjoy them the more. They often -provoke our merriment or elicit our surprise, excite our admiration or -awaken our sympathies. The cold torpor which becomes natural to the -inactive man through the eternal sameness of his daily career, renders -him a fitting and interesting object for our gaze when he is drawn -into positions demanding the exercise of his energies. Whatever may be -the effect of the occurrences here related--whether their recital may -interest or prove tedious--they certainly constitute the most prominent -events in the life of my acquaintance, the Dutch miser of the village. - -A party of young men who had for years been in the habit of -congregating twice each week at the southern corner of the village -school-house, to review the gossip of the neighborhood and amuse -themselves with boyish sports on the pleasant play-grounds of the -scholars; or, by way of variety, occasionally to contrive some idle -mischief to disturb the equanimity of the usually quiet and industrious -villagers; at one of these frequent meetings determined to exhibit, -in some extraordinary manner, Hans Dundermann’s passion for money. -Various expedients were accordingly suggested, and duly discussed -and considered, until they finally resolved upon one supposed to be -capable of accomplishing the end in view. After levying a contribution -amongst themselves of all the antiquated coin they could obtain,--for -they wisely concluded that he could not be aroused from his accustomed -stupidity but through the instrumentality of such a token,--the sum was -secretly conveyed to him. This was accompanied by a very mysterious -letter, which purported to be the favor of some supernatural power. -It spoke of the coin as coming from an almost inexhaustible fund, and -generously concluded by fully recognising him as a judicious person to -be entrusted with the care and keeping of so valuable a treasure. As -was anticipated, this had a marvelous effect upon him. He straightways -connected it with a standing tale of the village, which he had heard -upon different occasions, and which had more than once greatly excited -his curiosity. It was a well-circulated tradition, (and what town -has not a similar one?) that many years before the village numbered -a score of substantial buildings, vast treasures were undoubtedly -hidden in its immediate vicinity. He had frequently heard how a wealthy -Englishman, at a time the date whereof was never definitely fixed, -had lived near the village in all imaginable splendor, and how he had -died without leaving even so much as a shilling to be found upon his -entire premises. This splendid gentleman (so runs the tradition,) had -been the descendant of a prominent English nobleman attached to the -house of Lancaster, who, when the Red Rose drooped under the terror -inspired by the triumph of the house of York, had gathered together his -estates, which of course were very large, and retired from the kingdom. -The union of the two Roses, which followed the extinction of the -Plantagenets, and the partiality exhibited by Henry VII. towards the -Lancastrians, never tempted him to return. The last of his descendants, -inheriting all his wealth, yet depressed by the death of friends and -connexions, eventually emigrated to America, and took up his abode near -the village. Here he revelled in all the luxuries that riches could -supply, and when nothing was discovered after his decease, the great -surprise of the villagers soon conjured up numerous tales of hidden -wealth, which have ever since been carefully transmitted to each -succeeding generation. It was with one of these that Hans associated -the mysterious epistle. - -After they had thus interested the miser’s feelings, one of the company -visited him on the evening of the following day. When brought into -the presence of Hans, he commenced a train of very vague remarks, -as though he had something important to reveal, yet seemed doubtful -whether it were better to make it known than to treasure the secret. -Confining himself to the subjects which he knew were ever uppermost -in Hans’ thoughts, he soon succeeded in drawing the miser into a very -animated conversation, which, however, was rendered somewhat uneasy by -his mysterious demeanor. From some cause or other, perhaps because he -was thinking of the matter at the time, for he had thought of little -else during the entire day, Hans immediately surmised that his visitor -sustained some connexion with the singular letter he had received. -This impression was not only strengthened more and more by every word -that fell from the stranger, but his very dress, which gave him the -appearance of a fashionable gentleman of the preceding century, seemed -to confirm it. When, however, his visitor introduced the general -carelessness of the world, a point upon which Hans had always been well -decided, and to which alone, he had often said, was to be attributed -all the poverty in it, he became certain that his surmise was correct, -and watched carefully for something which might reveal the rich mine -referred to in that mysterious and treasured billet. When he had been -worked into a state of uncontrollable anxiety and excitement, the -stranger, still preserving his mysterious air, suddenly rose from his -seat, and rolling his eyes upwards in an agonized manner, preceded by -several terrible yawns, he rapidly repeated a few very singular words, -not found in Hans’ vocabulary, if in any other. This had the desired -effect, for it so surprised and stupefied the poor Dutchman that the -stranger, in the increasing darkness, readily made his exit unobserved. -After the miser had somewhat recovered from the shock occasioned to -his nerves and ascertained that his visitor had vanished, it was clear -to him that the stranger could not have disappeared as he had entered, -but must either have sunk through the floor or ascended through the -ceiling. Recollecting the supplicating manner in which he had turned up -his eyes, Hans quickly inferred that the latter was the course he had -taken, and under the exciting circumstances of the occasion, it was not -long before the inference became a conviction which has ever since been -most sacredly believed and maintained. - -Now, Hans Dundermann, it should be known, had frequently held -interesting conversations with Heinrich Speitzer and Yorick Bozum, -two of his most intimate friends in “vaterland,” and was perfectly -satisfied that ghosts and spirits had as real an existence as gold -and silver, though their presence was far less acceptable. He used to -listen to the stories of these tried companions, and tremble from head -to foot when he was told how the wicked Frederick Metzel, on a dark and -dismal winter’s night, had been claimed in pursuance of a contract, -attested by his own hand and seal, and carried off by the devil, amid -great lightning and thunder, to no one knew whither; for the place of -his abode was beyond the power of human discovery. It is true some of -his warmest friends, who had always been his companions, and enjoyed -his favors during his prosperity, and who had never neglected to -sound his praises upon every fitting occasion, now shook their heads -significantly and solemnly whenever his name was mentioned. This may -have been intended as nothing but an exhibition of their deep regret -for what they had lost, yet the uncharitable soon interpreted it -unfavorably for the future of poor Frederick, whilst the more humane -and hopeful remained silent, simply because they knew not what to say. -Hans still remembered how the spirit of old Herr Von Reicher, sorely -troubled because he had refused to reveal an important secret before -his departure from the lower world, returned to the home six months -previously left to mourn his death, and made known to the daughter -of his grand-child,--who had always been his favorite,--the cause -that prevented his rest. This was done by directing her to a dark and -almost impenetrable recess of his castle, where great treasures were -concealed, which he had hoarded up and frequently visited during his -life. Now, however, that he had no further occasion for such visits, -his sense of justice, which had never in the least troubled him -whilst living, would not permit him to deprive his friends, who had -so carefully attended to his dying wants, of so valuable a secret, -nor his creditors of the only means through which their demands -could be satisfied. Nor had Hans Dundermann forgotten how the son of -Karl Keiser, a pleasant companion with whom he had spent many hours -rehearsing wonderful tales, the accuracy of which he never doubted, -had been accosted in the rough woods, on a dark October night, by a -copper-colored man, out of the crown of whose head issued a constant -flame of fire, and led several leagues from home. What had been the -object of this singular and startling apparition--whether it had been -an evil spirit and intended the young man as one of its victims, or -whether it had merely meant to disclose some great and troublesome -mystery--had to remain undetermined, for day intervened and summoned -the vision to its abiding place. Many surmises were occasioned by -this strange affair, vouched for by the person himself whom it most -concerned; but the majority agreed in the opinion that no harm had been -intended to the young man, otherwise the spectre would not have waited -until daylight to be deprived of its prey: others expressed their -conviction that it simply designed to relieve itself of some serious -trouble, whilst there was still a third class who pronounced the matter -all a foolish tale, which owed its origin to too much Rhienish wine and -the cold winds of October. - -Whilst Hans was reflecting upon these marvelous stories of his youthful -wonder, and thus endeavoring to assist his mind in determining the -character of his late visitor, he gave evident signs of being engaged -in a new employment. Although he had heard many strange things in his -time, and often threw up his hands towards the skies, opened his mouth -as wide as nature permitted, and exclaimed “mein Gott!” in surprise, he -certainly had never before been called upon to decide whether any of -his visions had been a ghost or a spirit, a witch or the devil himself. -In this troublesome dilemma he resolved to consult his old housekeeper, -whom he had brought with him from Germany, and whose greater age and -experience, he hoped, might be capable of relieving him from his -perplexity. This indispensable article of his household seemed to have -descended to him with his father’s estate, and presented an appearance -even more than ridiculously Dutch; but Hans had been taught to regard -her as a pattern of good taste, and as she had always manifested the -strongest devotion to his interests, he never doubted her superior -excellence. To give a faint description of her would be no trifling -labor, for she had apparently been worked together by nature without -reference to form or proportion; and whenever seen, was invariably -covered with a superfluous amount of greasy calico, which seemed to -have no other support but a twisted chord that encircled her extensive -waist. Her head was remarkable for nothing but a large quantity of -light flaxen hair, to which the sun had failed to give a ruddier tinge, -although, as since her twentieth year she had scarcely ever worn a -covering, it had shone upon her pate fairly and with full effect for -more than thirty summers. Increasing age, though it had robbed her of -her teeth, put wrinkles in her face, and somewhat loosened her joints, -seemed to be equally powerless to make the least visible impression -upon it. The singular conduct of the stranger, who had been observed -but casually by the old woman as he had entered, was fully considered -and commented upon by her and Hans. Though she sympathized with him -as much as her nature permitted, and gave ample evidence of her desire -to render him all possible assistance, she could offer no suggestions -which tended in the least to solve the mystery. Her many exclamations, -however, if useless in the explication of a mysterious and difficult -problem, brought some relief; and thus consoled, he reluctantly -concluded to await the full development of what he believed had just -fairly commenced with the letter he had received and the visit of the -stranger. - -“Whatever this may forebode,” said Hans, “it is so very strange that we -must wait until the end shall come; yet I hope that my end may not be -like that of Frederick Metzel. Let me be spared the terrors that fell -to the lot of Karl Keiser’s son, and if the worst should come, let it -be no worse than that which happened to the great-grand-daughter of -Herr Von Reicher.” - -These remarkable occurrences, constituting some of the most startling -he had stored up in his memory, had been so repeatedly told to his -housekeeper, with great embellishments, that she had become perfectly -familiar with them. Although Hans did not much like to have dealings -with spirits; yet, had he been certain that the mysterious stranger -would never afterwards have troubled him, he would gladly have -entertained him once more, if assured of a revelation similar to that -made to the youthful daughter of Herr Von Reicher’s grand-child. - -“Yes, yes,” responded the old woman, whose frame trembled violently at -the supposition that calamities so terrible could possibly befall them, -“heaven avert such fatalities! Surely, Hans, nothing of this kind can -happen to us, for you have never had any intercourse with the evil one, -nor have you ever been closely allied to any of those poor creatures -whose spirits are not even permitted to rest quietly in their graves.” - -As he had thus, for several days been moved by strange thoughts, it -was observed by those whom he happened to meet that a very singular -change had suddenly come over him. His actions seemed to be dictated -by a variety of conflicting impulses, and the little mind he had once -possessed was absent more than half the time. He would make long pauses -in his conversation, abruptly change from one topic to another, and -occasionally, to the great amazement of those with whom he conversed, -he would walk off before he had half completed a sentence. Then, too, -he was frequently seen to stop in his solitary walks and engage in -earnest conversation with himself, a smile sometimes animating his -countenance, whilst at others he appeared very sullen and dejected. -On several of these occasions he was overheard to speak audibly of -spirits and treasures, which so greatly surprised all who heard -him that some even suggested an investigation into his soundness of -mind. To those acquainted with the design to play upon his stupid and -credulous nature, it was daily becoming more apparent that he believed -vast quantities of gold were somewhere concealed in the vicinity, and -that he was troubled to know where, and how he could secure them. At -length his changed demeanor became the subject of remark throughout -the entire neighborhood. Some of the villagers, in their efforts to -account for it, expressed the belief that his heart was beginning -to soften and that he was relenting of his former penuriousness--a -reformation which, in his case, it was generally conceded would have -been sufficient to account for his singular conduct. Others, however, -more strenuously maintained, that so far from his heart undergoing -so favorable a change, it was simply passing through the last stages -of ossification. That the former were mistaken in their charitable -surmises, was soon ascertained by an experiment eminently calculated to -arouse his generosity; but there are those still amongst the latter, -who contend that they were correct in their opinion, and are determined -to obtain positive evidence of the fact, upon the miser’s decease, -through the aid of an anatomist, who has already been duly engaged for -that purpose. - -When it was supposed that Hans was exclusively abstracted in the train -of reflections suggested to his mind by the circumstances related, -it was deemed expedient for the stranger to venture another visit, -which he accordingly did. It so happened that he obtained admission -unobserved into the same room in which he had before met Hans, and -giving seven distinct raps on the old oaken floor, he was soon brought -into the presence of the miser. After the latter’s surprise had -partially subsided, and his face assumed something like its original -hue, the stranger commenced addressing him in a manner equally hasty -and incoherent, but Hans was all attention as if determined to absorb -the import of every word as it was uttered. He by no means comprehended -all that was said, yet he distinctly understood the request of his -visitor to meet him that night, at the hour of twelve, at the edge of -the wood bordering on the western extremity of the village, where the -important secret was to be revealed. The stranger had scarcely finished -this request, when he was seized with a violent cough, resulting from -a stream of munched tobacco which had unforbidden entered down his -gullet, as if offended at being imprisoned within his mouth whilst -personating a character whose dignity would not permit him to eject -it. Giving vent to an almost inaudible curse, which was unfortunately -mistaken for a call for water, Hans immediately seized a pitcher, and -hurried out of the room, informing the old housekeeper, as he was in -the act of passing her in the kitchen, of the presence of the spirit. -Upon her reminding him that spirits were never in want of such earthly -necessaries, surprised at his own absence of thought, he dropped the -pitcher and quickly returned; but the stranger, no doubt glad of so -favorable an opportunity, had disappeared. - -Hans Dundermann, at the earnest entreaty of his old housekeeper, whom -I shall here name Malchen, not because she was so christened, but -simply out of solicitude for the jaw-bones of those who might attempt -to pronounce her ponderous title were it fully given, retired to his -bed at an early hour that evening. It has already been stated that -he desired no intimacy with spirits, and especially with such as -disappeared so unexpectedly; but his endeavors to banish from his mind -the request of the stranger were unavailing, and the tempting promise -which accompanied it would not permit him to close his eyes in sleep. -Impelled by an irresistible anxiety to secure the imagined treasure, he -arose from his bed, and walked up and down the room in great agitation -until within a few minutes of midnight. His love of gold, however, at -last succeeded in conquering his fears, so, seizing a German bible, -which had evidently grown antiquated by neglect amid dust and cobwebs, -and cautiously placing it in his capacious pocket, for he had often -heard that whilst he had so good a book about his person no evil spirit -could harm him, he repaired to the appointed spot. Here he had for -some time been intently peering into the dark wood, when suddenly he -heard a strange noise behind him, and upon turning he obtained a full -view of the stranger, who had taken the precaution to provide against -the prevailing darkness by a lantern, the red rays of which only gave -to everything around a more gloomy appearance. Hans involuntarily -startled and most heartily wished himself in his bed again, but it -was now too late. Gazing supplicatingly into the pale face of the -spirit, for he was fully persuaded that he stood in the presence of -a veritable spirit, he commenced imploringly inquiring about his -personal safety and the prospect of securing the treasure. His appeal, -however, failed to draw a word of consolation or encouragement from -his supernatural companion who simply indicated by a sign that silence -had to be observed, and pointing into the uninviting wood signified to -him to move on. Tremblingly the miser proceeded, frequently staring -wildly around. Whether it was all imagination, or a fancy which had -some substance for its basis, he certainly thought, upon passing -several large trees, he saw odd figures behind them. However this -may have been, a death-like silence was maintained, nor did Hans seem -inclined to break it after his first rebuff. At length they arrived -at a small old building, which, though it was not many miles from his -residence, he had never before seen. All now surrounding him was dark -and strange, and he gazed upon the structure with mingled emotions the -like of which he had never before experienced. Whilst endeavoring to -collect his wandering wits during this momentary halt at the antiquated -building, an unearthly howl was suddenly set up around it, which so -frightened him that he at once attempted to test what virtue there -was in his heels. Alas! poor Hans! His knees knocked together and his -frame shook so violently, he could not move. He was as much a prisoner -to his terror as the chained criminal in his cell. It was now that -the solicitous advice of his faithful Malchen came rushing upon his -memory, and he deplored the folly which had caused him to disobey it. -His regrets however, it is believed, were more owing to the wealth he -had left behind him than to his having disregarded her good advice, for -he began to apprehend that he should never see it more. During this -interval of his great consternation, the spirit had remained perfectly -calm and composed; and after the noise had entirely subsided it again -exhorted him to silence, and softly whispered into his ears that -the place was surrounded and protected by numerous imps of the devil -who had been commissioned to guard the treasure. Though many before -Hans’ time may have been in equally close contact with some of Satan’s -extensive brood and felt no fear, and although he had spent nearly all -his days in executing to their master an indisputable title to himself, -he found no consolation in what the spirit had told him. If he was -inclined to render service to Lucifer he preferred doing so at a more -convenient distance from him. - -Without any visible intervention of the spirit, at least such is -the testimony of Hans Dundermann, an opening into the cellar of the -building now appeared. Here he was bidden to enter, which he did more -through fear than inclination, attended by his mysterious guide. The -red glare reflected by the lantern, gave the place a very solemn and -haunted appearance, and made the old walls resemble more the neglected -ruins of some venerable edifice, than what they purported to be. They -had evidently been built when masonic skill was in its infancy and when -huge, substantial clumsiness was the fashion. He surveyed the cavern, -for such it appeared to him, with wild respect, confident that this had -once been the retreat of the Englishman whose memory had so long been -perpetuated in the traditions of the village. What was next to befall -him, now that he was entirely at the mercy and in the power of the -spirit, he could not divine. He was carefully watching its movements -as it walked around the cellar, cautiously treading the damp ground, -until it came to a stand, and beckoned him to approach. Here, then, he -ascertained, was hidden the treasure which had so much engrossed his -attention, and caused him so many perplexing thoughts. His fears now -yielded to the first flushes occasioned by the almost certain assurance -of securing the hoarded gold. Thus animated by the promising prospect -before him; his recent regrets were entirely forgotten, and he felt -pleased and proud that he had left his bed for so bold and profitable -an adventure. His anxious anticipations, however, were not to be so -easily gratified as he had at first imagined. The wealth he coveted was -still a considerable distance under ground, but this, to him, appeared -but a trifling obstacle. He had often handled the pick and spade for -a paltry price per diem; and now, that a great reward was to be the -issue, he could use them to advantage. The requisite utensils were -soon supplied by the spirit, and Hans squandered no time in commencing -vigorous operations. Though a veritable Dutchman, he entirely lost -the Dutchman’s slowness upon this memorable occasion. He relied more -upon energetic effort for success than upon tedious perseverance -and plodding patience, and the soft earth was made to fly in every -direction. The excitement of the employment soon brought back his usual -complexion, and gave his plump face a greasy and shining appearance; -when off went hat and coat, and every other article of apparel which -generally encumbers a Dutchman whilst at labor. He was now too intently -engaged to pay any attention to the spirit, which made its exit from -the cellar unnoticed and unheeded. - -For some time all continued quiet, not a sound being heard beyond -the noise occasioned by himself. He was making rapid progress and -congratulating himself upon soon reaching the expected bounty, when -his pleasant reflections were suddenly disturbed by another terrible -and unearthly howl, much resembling that which had before so greatly -excited his fears. In its hollow re-echoes through the cellar it was -rendered even more terrific. The spade dropped from his hand, and -turning round in his bewilderment, he now first discovered that the -spirit had abandoned him. Although he had previously most heartily -desired it to leave him and permit him to find his way home again, he -now regarded its disappearance as ominous of ill. Alone, with nothing -but a credulous and excited imagination for his guide, he was made the -victim of a thousand unpleasant impulses, and realized all the dread -horrors of unrestrained fear. His face became deathly pale and big -drops of cold perspiration stood upon it, whilst his hair rose on end -and his eyes dilated and literally sparkled. For a time, as he stood -the impersonation of terror, he was unable to comprehend his position, -but with returning reason he applied himself to diligent search for -the opening through which he had entered. Every nook and corner was -quickly examined, but no means of escape were discoverable. Although -that awful howl subsided almost simultaneously with his dropping of -the spade, he could not approach the spot where he had been digging -for the treasure without hearing it again. Had not the spirit told -him that the place was guarded by the imps of the devil, and how -could he be expected to withstand them? Had not Frederick Metzel been -carried off, notwithstanding his resistance, and never heard of more? -Oh, Malchen, this for neglecting your anxious and wholesome advice! -All these reflections, and ten thousand others no more comforting -in their nature, passed rapidly through his mind. The thoughts of a -life-time were now crowded into a few of his minutes, and a volume -could not give a faithful transcript of the many marvelous stories -that spontaneously rushed through his brain. When the devil seemed -determined to prevent Luther from prosecuting his work, the Reformer -seized an ink-stand and hurled it at his head. Though the missile -had little effect upon the object at which it was aimed, being simply -dashed to pieces against the wall, upon which the black marks are said -still to remain, the tormentor nevertheless vanished. Hans could not -deal thus summarily with the great adversary, who happened to have no -small claim upon his miserly soul, ready for settlement at any moment. -Debtors, and especially those indebted to Satan, are obliged to be more -courteous. He was therefore compelled to yield to an influence which -his more devotional countryman had only overcome with great difficulty. -All ideas of obtaining the treasure were accordingly abandoned, and -imprisoned as he was, his first great care was to effect his release. -How this was to be accomplished he knew not, as he more slowly and -carefully re-examined the old walls, with lantern in hand, escaping -only the place where he had so faithfully dug for the hidden wealth. -That he could not think of approaching, for he now distinctly and -unmistakeably saw a half grown imp seated upon the fresh earth he had -thrown up, who was eyeing him in no very complacent manner. Hans has -since described him as the very image of a picture in one of his German -books, which he had often contemplated with feelings of melancholy -dread, and which had equally often puzzled his brain by the thoughts -invariably suggested to his mind whenever he beheld it. He never could -divine the real policy of tolerating the existence of such hideous -monsters; and, perhaps more influenced by personal considerations than -feelings of charity for mankind in general, he had frequently most -heartily wished their utter extermination and the total annihilation -of their constantly increasing kingdom. The puny devil before Hans’ -eyes was undoubtedly a legitimate offshoot of the parent stock. He -had a large two-pronged fork in his right hand, and in his left he -held one end of a strong chain, whilst the other was fastened to his -body, so that its great bulk had to trail upon the ground. His long -tail, pointed like an arrow, and erected several feet above his head, -appeared even more formidable than the fork. His posture much resembled -that of an old man, seated upon a low stool, his stiff legs drawn up -towards his body. He was almost entirely covered with rough, brown -hair, and the bristles upon his head pointed in every direction. There -was a fiery glitter in his eyes, and the expression of his countenance, -according to Hans’ description, could be handsomely counterfeited by -compounding together the faces of a grinning monkey and a fat Dutchman. - -At last, fortunately, Hans Dundermann thought he discovered a prospect -of delivery from his torments. Not possessing the magic power of the -spiritual guide that had led him into this horrible prison, the walls -could not be expected to part at his simple bidding, and he therefore -wisely determined to test the virtue of more natural means. Seizing the -spade, he made a number of vigorous thrusts against the substantial -masonry, which, though it resisted his efforts for a considerable time, -was eventually compelled to yield him a passage, through which he could -escape. Thanks! he was now once more in the open air and breathed -again! The devils set up another howl, as if in exultation, and several -seemed to be slyly approaching him; but Hans, relying upon his nether -limbs, which appeared to have derived strength for the occasion, -hurried off with remarkable rapidity. Not content, however, with having -prevented him from obtaining the treasure, the whole pack of imps now -followed close upon his heels, crying his name at the top of their -voices, but this only increased his speed the more. No obstacle seemed -a hindrance to him. Dark as it was, he scaled the rocks, and stones, -and stumps, in his leaps, as on he flew, leaving those in pursuit far -behind. There was no manifestation of the tardy Dutchman in that chase, -as he pursued his course for miles, not knowing whither it led and -feeling little inclination to pause and consider. When, at last, he -came to a stand, lo! the veritable spirit which had enticed him into -the wood stood at his side and was calmly gazing upon him. Hans shut -his eyes, but it was still there. Drawing in his breath, he bolted in -another direction with a speed that outdistanced even this supernatural -vision, but led him far from his home. Hatless and coatless, he -eventually seated himself upon the earth, determined to await the -approach of day. Though he knew not in what locality he was, nor how, -lost in the wood, he should find the village again, he was yet consoled -by the reflection that he was free from the clutches of satan and his -imps. The terrors of Karl Keiser’s son had been nothing in comparison -to those he had endured. - -When morning dawned,--and never had Hans Dundermann more welcomed the -approach of day,--he betook himself to the difficult task of searching -for his home. His venerable housekeeper had been thrown into great -consternation upon discovering his absence. Not knowing whither he had -gone, or what had become of him, her fears at once made her conclude -that he had shared the sad fate of Frederick Metzel, and been carried -off by the spirit during the night, as a terrible punishment for having -neglected to meet it as he had been requested. She now reproached -herself for having obtruded her advice upon him, but to make amends, -she told the matter to her neighbors, and search was immediately -commenced for the lost. He was not discovered until the succeeding -day, and when brought to his residence to the great delight of Malchen, -gave a narration of his adventures which alike astonished the credulous -and amused the doubting. - -Those who heard it at once determined to investigate the matter, and, -if possible, obtain the treasure and make a general distribution of -it amongst themselves. Hans now had the entire neighborhood at his -heels, many fully believing his entire tale and looking anxiously for a -portion of the spoils; others following from sheer impulse, not knowing -what to think or say; whilst others still were led on by curiosity -to see the end of what they simply believed to be a foolish vagary -of a distempered brain. He was but a sorry guide, however, and after -vainly searching for the old building to which he had been led by the -spirit, he gave it as his settled conviction that the imps must have -removed it, leaving no trace behind that it had once existed, lest -they might experience too much difficulty in preserving the wealth it -contained. The conclusion was a wise one, and if it taught nothing -more, it at least illustrated the remark of a learned Genoese, that -“miser’s worship no God but money, and will deny even the very faith -they profess rather than fail in schemes to augment their treasures.” -However faithful servants of satan they may be, he knows that they -would betray even him to gratify their desire, and understands them too -well not to place his possessions beyond their wily clutches, in which -he is certainly more judicious than many mortals. - - T. D. - - - - -REMARKS - - -The succeeding essay was read before the Association, and appears, from -the following prefatory remarks, to have been the production of one of -its committees.--EDITOR. - - “Your committee, simply from the want of a new theme, have been - compelled, even at the hazard of proving tedious, to confine - themselves to an old one. The many extravagancies daily exhibited by - those around us might perhaps afford more matter for ridicule than - admonition, but few are willing that their follies should be made the - means of amusing others, whilst none will object to a little kind - advice, though he be determined not to heed it. We therefore concluded - that the latter mode of treating our subject, if the most stupid, - would still possess the merit of being the least annoying. Then, too, - stupidity having become a common quality, in which each is privileged - to deal, a sacred right not to be denied without closing the mouths of - more than nine-tenths of the world, our dullness can be no trespass - and consequently needs no apology.” - - - - -AN ESSAY. - -THE WISDOM OF PRESERVING MODERATION IN OUR WISHES. - - - “Life runs best on little: nature’s store - Can make all happy that will use their power.” - -IN the extended range of our wishes and their diversified character, -the reflective man will recognise one of the greatest sources of -human misery. The many desires which impel us affect alike the mind -and heart, frequently disturbing the healthy repose of the one, and -rendering the other cold and selfish. The illusory nature of life -and its schemes, and the changing influences which ever surround -us, seldom permit us to attain the most moderate aspirations of our -youth. Through the lively impetus constantly given to the imagination -during that period of life, we are prone to devise certain plans and -arrange magnificent schemes to accomplish our desires; yet the weight -of years steals upon us gradually, until we look upon the past but as -a long chain of circumstances, and our present life and condition as -its result. One by one our determinations, however long and fervently -cherished, pass away unrealized; whilst our sanguine wishes, with their -ardor perhaps somewhat abated through the influence of experience and -the cool meditations of riper age, still remain ungratified. He who had -contrived and contemplated schemes to amass wealth, and then retire -to repose amid the comforts and luxuries of the world, may linger out -a life of toil and poverty in some humble hamlet; he who had longed -to ascend the steeps of science and gather in abundance its noble -treasures, may feel the admonishing wrinkles upon his brow even before -he has made one permanent acquisition; and he who had encouraged dreams -of ambition, and courted the uncertain plaudits of fame, may die at -last forgotten and unknown. - -Moderation in our wishes is as rarely witnessed as their realization. -It was an argument with the Cynics that absence of all want was the -natural condition of the Gods, and therefore he who stood in need of -but few things most resembled them. The remark ascribed to Taxilles is -admirable and philosophic, “What occasion is there, Alexander, that you -and I must needs quarrel and fight; since you neither came to rob us -of our water nor of our food, which are the only two things that men -in their wits think worth contending for?” The idea of the Cynics is -rarely exemplified in human life, and the moderate desires expressed by -Taxilles equally seldom infuse into men the modest wishes they suggest -to our minds. St. Cyprian, and others before and after him, distributed -their possessions amongst their fellows, reducing themselves to -poverty. If all cannot admire the wisdom of their action, certainly -none can find anything in their motives to condemn. They who have -thus mastered their selfishness and avarice, two vices sufficiently -powerful to destroy many of the nobler virtues, have obtained a command -over themselves more desirable than wealth or distinction. They have -conquered impulses whose end not unfrequently is agony of mind and -destruction to all the sensibilities of the soul; they have subjected -their wishes and tamed their desires to encounter the vicissitudes of -life with philosophic calmness. - -The present pleasure may pass away into oblivion, or it may leave -a permanent sting behind; and yet it is for this that extravagant -wishes leap into being and expand to the limit of possibility, or to -the extent of our comprehension. The diviner philosophy which teaches -us the vanity of our desires, and the vexation of spirit attending -even their full gratification, is neglected until forced upon us by -the irresistible teachings of experience. The most excellent lessons -of virtue are treated with indifference to further imposing schemes -for riches, for fame, or for power; yet the one is not attended by -peace of mind, the other brings no quiet comfort to the soul, and the -third fails to realize happiness and contentment. The flatteries of -friends and sycophants which follow you in each, only fill your face -with frowns and your heart with loathing and disgust. The wealth of -Crassus, the Rich, brought him neither contentment nor protection; the -distinction of Pompey could not brook the rising glory of his great -rival, and but provoked his malice and his envy; the power of Cæsar -only increased his ambition, which continued to prey upon his soul -and in his longings for the crown it became his own avenger; and the -flatterers of Canute but made him feel his insignificance and aroused -his contempt. - -The wish for distinction and renown, however, may not only be blameless -in itself, but when restrained within proper bounds, highly honorable. -There is a medium between ambition and a total neglect of reputation -as hard distinctly to define as it is difficult to practice. Few have -known how to follow it, and many whose wishes were at first confined to -the rule of a town, afterwards aspired to empire. History even refuses -to agree with Cicero in according to Cæsar the credit of having, at -the beginning of his career, devised and pursued a definite plan to -subvert the Roman Commonwealth and elevate himself to the tyranny. -None would add to the infamy of Marius or Sylla by supposing that -the first aspirations of either were for absolute power. When it is -remembered how difficult it is to be restrained within this medium, it -will not appear strange that so many should have overstepped it, often -to the great injury of themselves and more frequently still to the -great affliction of the people. If our wishes be prompted by motives -to promote the public good, they may justly acquire the title of -patriotism; and when, in addition, they are so wholly under our control -as to enable us to assume the command to-day and renounce it to-morrow -should the interests of the country require it, we are eminently -qualified for every sphere or position in the Republic. Frederick, -the Elector of Saxony, refused the crown under the impression that an -Emperor more powerful than himself was needed to preserve Germany; -and the humble Cincinnatus found more repose and pleasure in the -cultivation of his little fields than in the exercise of power or the -trappings of wealth. Unlike the treacherous decemviri, when the duties -of his high positions had been performed, he meekly resigned them again -to seek the approving smiles of his Attillia and the content of his -humble home. These are examples with which history does not abound, and -whatever credit we may accord to their deeds of worth and valor, we -yet see more to admire in their generous humility and the noble command -they constantly reserved over themselves. - -It is a small matter to wish for virtue, yet a more worthy desire never -entered the mind of man. Virtue is the highest of all treasures, and -however rarely it may be seen, is neither beyond the reach of any nor -above his comprehension. The high and low, the prince and the peasant, -are alike possessed with the power of attaining it. All the greater -excellencies of nature are free and within universal reach. It is the -remark of an old philosopher, that “many people, without having their -reason improved by study, live nevertheless in a manner conformable to -the dictates of right reason;” and Montaigne observes that the life of -the peasant is frequently more agreeable to philosophy than that of -the philosopher himself. This wish is none the less ennobling because -its answer is within universal reach. It is even more rarely realized -than desires for wealth or power, and is infinitely preferable to -either when attained. There is nothing in nature more useful, for what -evils does it not avert? It renders us impregnable to the stealthy -encroachments of vice; relieves us of all selfishness, guile, and -hypocrisy; robs us of all malice, deceit, and treachery; frees us -from the gnawings of envy, the miseries of hate, and the slavery of -passion; delivers us from the bondage of avarice, ambition, and the -remorse which so frequently attends them; and fits us not only to think -of but to do “whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, -whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever -things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report.” It is no less -permanent than it is useful. We scarcely know which most to admire, the -cool indifference of Phalereus, or the tribute which he pays to the -durable nature of virtue, in his reply, when told that the Athenian -people had thrown down and destroyed his statues: “Well, but they -cannot overturn that virtue for the sake of which they were erected.” -It is a noble companion for every sphere of life, teaching us how to -wear, with just humility, the honors we may acquire, and how to submit, -with becoming dignity, to the reverses of fortune, the treachery of -friends, and the persecution of enemies. Under its guidance, the world -is seen in its true character, and our duties towards it discharged -with forbearance and charity. Without it, none can be truly great nor -truly happy. With it, all may obtain a just share of human happiness -and contentment, and each secure for himself the noble tribute which -history has paid to Epaminondas, a higher eulogy than ever yet was -acquired through the realization of the grandest schemes for wealth -or glory: “HE WAS A MAN ADORNED WITH EVERY VIRTUE, AND STAINED BY NO -VICE.” - - - - -EXPLANATORY. - - - “Good men live twice: it doubleth every hour - To look with joy on that which passed before.” - -The author of the following paper, having himself witnessed and heard -what he has attempted to detail, merely designed to attract attention -to a rich resource of pleasure inherent in every good man. To him who -has carefully kept himself free from dishonor, and whose life has never -been marred by the stains of vice, there is nothing so happily adapted -to beguile the hours of solitude as reflections upon the past. Seneca -calls the “unmoved tranquility of a happy mind, a great reward.” He -who has so lived as to obtain it, whatever his present condition, may -always find in his own thoughts the purest enjoyment, perhaps realizing -in this healthful exercise of the resources within him, that there is -much more of reality than fancy in what Iamblicus has said: “We must -take this as a certain truth, that nothing properly evil shall happen -to a good man, either in this life, or after it.” - - M. S----G. - - - - -THE SICK MOTHER. - - -I have never sat by the sick-bed of a mother without finding gradually -stealing over me a deeply melancholy and impressive feeling. Nature -has so constituted the human mind as to render it susceptible of -an infinite variety of emotions, and made it so expansive in its -grasp as to enable it to contemplate everything within the boundless -universe. However finite it may be, there is nothing of which it -cannot think; and although there are many things which it fails to -understand, they all inspire some feeling or awaken some emotion -within the invisible recesses of our nature. The many truths of which -we know, and the countless beauties mirrored before our eyes by the -imagination dwelling upon uncertainties and doubtful probabilities, -often give rise to a variety of sensations so powerful as to hold -us spell-bound. The deep springs of the heart, frequently hidden to -our comprehension, are ever flowing for our enjoyment. Of this I was -recently reminded, in a very impressive manner, by being ushered -into the presence of a mother, who had, for three successive years, -been confined to a sick-bed. The information of her sore affliction -suggested a train of thought, and prompted a number of reflections, -the recollection of which will forever abide fresh in my memory. -She was yet young, and notwithstanding her many trials, exhibited a -vigor of mind and a freshness of heart seldom discovered in the most -healthy and buoyant. The knowledge of her prostration for years, in -the prime of her life, and when possessed of all the impulsive desires -and sanguine expectations common to those of her age, saddened me to -sickness as I first entered her apartment; but upon discovering her -genuine animation, her beauty of heart and sprightliness of mind, my -feelings alternately changed from sadness to surprise, from surprise -to veneration. How many pleasures, thought I, had I enjoyed during the -past three years! How had I, watching the changing seasons, relished -the many delightful things each of them had brought forth! In the -mellow sunlight of the morning, I had drank in the beauties of the -earth; and in the sweet twilight of the evening, I had reaped the -richest bounties it afforded. I had daily sported with my friends, -many of whom had never felt a wish unanswered, yet still remained -unsatisfied; I had played alike with the young and old with an -intensity of interest that touched every chord of the heart; and -I had felt the ecstacy of a variety of joys, whilst the vigor of -uninterrupted health but spread out before me all that heart could -wish, or soul desire. There were our glorious winter parties, where -kindness, friendship, and love, ministered to our wishes; gleeful rides -over the silvery snow, cozily muffled in furs, and almost buried in -robes, our exuberant hilarity rising high above the jingling music of -the bells; summer meetings beneath the shady branches of the willow, -in the downy meadow; and moonlight strolls with cherished companions -all around us, and loved ones leaning tenderly on our arms. We had -our social enjoyments in all their diversified characters; our many -exhibitions of the noblest intellect fraught with the golden treasures -of study; our seasonable round of vivifying concerts by the highest -talent in the wide world; our splendid and attractive operas, with -all the more and less refined amusements which the age required to -make up the sum total of this never satisfied and insatiable human -life. Whether in door or out, we found all that could be desired to -make existence pleasing, and attach us the more firmly to it; yet here -was one who had none, or few of these things. Chained down within -the narrow compass of her bed, her ill destiny had denied to her the -pleasures of the world without. How could she endure it? Would not -her heart wither for want of food, and her mind perish for lack of -stimulants? Nothing in the least approaching to this was perceptible. -She ever seemed the happy spirit that could rise above the afflictions -of fate, and over which no misfortune could cast a cloud of despair. - -In conversation, she spoke of the world with a knowledge and a heart -that would have persuaded you she constantly moved with the busiest -portion of it. She was fully aware of the condition and employments of -her friends, enjoying their sports and amusements as much, apparently, -as though she was participating in them; and often, with her own -delicate hands, she had prepared some trifling and expressive thing, -which told how much she wished their happiness. There was no complaint -in her, nor could you force repining regrets upon her. Her answers to -your queries were always the same in sweetness and resignation, and -such as might almost have led you to think she preferred her condition -to one of health, and its attendant pleasures. It is true, she did -not conceal that, at first, her situation seemed indeed terrible to -herself, yet principally from one cause, which never ceased more or -less to trouble her. She had a young and devoted husband, and she -regretted more for his sake than her own, her incapacity to mingle -in the social spheres of life, and thus afford him enjoyments which -were denied him in her condition. Her selfishness, if she ever had -any, was changed from herself and directed towards him, upon whom she -would have conferred every merit or good quality she possessed, had -she had the power, and many more, if possible, and regarded the task -the most delightful she had ever performed. His very desires and aims -of life had become her’s, and I believe she would have suffered any -personal inconvenience or sacrifice to have gratified him in them all; -his troubles and vexations, by some strange and inexplicable influence -of sympathy, she had invariably succeeded in removing from his mind, -and placing in their stead a new and more exalted vigor: in truth, he -had never felt a regret, a pang, a trial, however trifling, in which -she had not participated, and which, by some mysterious balm distilled -by her own sympathetic heart, she had not contributed to remove or -obliterate. If, however, she shared so much in his sorrows, she partook -none the less of his joys. His happiness was her own; his successes and -his triumphs were her’s; and the just rewards of his ceaseless labors, -deservedly elevating him in public esteem, were even more gratifying -to her than to himself. In his honorable elevation, she beheld her -personal advancement, and in the brightness of his reputation, she felt -additions to her own. When his aspirations had been realized, she had -experienced a gratification superior to his, and when he had attained -a point through assiduous effort, the acquisition afforded mutual -pleasure. Thus entering into his very existence, she deplored her -affliction more from a desire to promote his happiness than from any -wish or anxiety for personal gratification and enjoyment. - -The apartment occupied by her was neatly fitted up and arranged with a -view of making her situation as comfortable as possible, and evidences -were not wanting of the generous sympathies of her friends. Whatever -was supposed capable of affording her a moment’s cheerful amusement, -or of lessening the tedium of her constant confinement, was supplied; -and the innumerable attentions bestowed upon her bore ample testimony -of the esteem in which she was held. Her acquaintances seemed really -to be vieing with each other who could do most to attest the good -wishes entertained in her behalf, and the many expedients invented to -gratify her, well exhibited the magnanimous ingenuity and skill of -their authors. How highly did she appreciate this kindness, and how -enthusiastically did she speak of it! To hear her, was to forget her -afflictions, and partake of her grateful and joyous feelings. She had -often exclaimed, in the fullness of her heart, that she could wish -for no more; and indeed, turn where you would, you could see nothing -but tokens of sympathy and love, which the stricken soul alone can -fully know how to cherish. Then, too, she had a little bright-eyed, -prattling boy, the best and happiest in the world, she would say. -With him she would play for hours together, and pet him with tender -caresses, attesting the power of her motherly affections, and evincing -how much she treasured him. In his gleeful gambols, she would watch him -with ineffable fondness, and his infantile freaks elicited emotions -which she would not have bartered for the world. Next to her husband, -her boy was her greatest earthly idol, and a stay which, though tender, -made life, however afflicted, a boon that filled her heart with -gratitude. - -Whilst seated in her apartment, in conversation with her, her husband, -with whom I had spent many of my youthful days, and once taken a long -excursion through several provinces, entered, without observing me, -and, walking to the bedside of his wife, he tenderly embraced her, and -then sat silently down before her. I fancied I saw a tear glistening -in his eye, and I never was more moved to pity. How much I had been -mistaken, and how misdirected had been my compassion, I was pleased to -ascertain soon after. As I was upon the point of addressing him, she -cast a look upon him so sweetly soft and gentle, that, once seen, it -could never be forgotten, and smilingly said, - -“Come, Charles, be more cheerful and communicative. Let me know what -has been astir within the past few hours since your return. You -certainly do not appear to be displeased, and yet you are not disposed -to be talkative.” - -“Nothing has in the least ruffled my temper, I assure you. I am as well -contented with myself and the world now as ever, and would not so belie -the home of my friend as to cause a supposition that my visit to him -had rendered me dull and gloomy.” - -“What, then, makes you so silent? I have noticed your quiet moments, at -times, heretofore, without being able to divine their cause, and you -have never been pleased to make it known.” - -“That was because I thought your own heart knew it, and felt it: but -as I am in the mood, I shall endeavor to tell you. You are well aware -that there are periods when the heart speaks more in silence than the -tongue could possibly express--when a momentary pause reveals more than -the talk of a day could unfold. I know you have sometimes found your -feelings too powerful for utterance, and in silent thought permitted -them partially to subside before you ventured to speak and break the -spell that enchained you. Nature has so constituted those capable -of genuine love, that, whilst feeling the influence of so sacred an -affection, their ecstacy should not be disturbed even by the pleasures -of conversation. The strength of this passion, at times, overpowers -every other impulse; and though it may then enforce silence, it only -does so to enable us to enjoy the more the rich treasures of our own -hearts. Depend upon it, such moments wear the touches of angels, and -furnish us with the sublimest idea of the enjoyments of heaven that -can be realized in the present life. Their recurrence cannot come too -often, nor can they be retained too long, when present, for they are -our choicest blessings.” - -If ever, thought I, a wife had been answered to her heart’s full -satisfaction, this sick and helpless one was in the present instance. -It was now her turn to become silent, and changing her position, -I obtained a full view of her animated countenance, from which I -inferred that the words of her husband had penetrated into her soul -to be secretly treasured there. My position had already become too -embarrassing to allow me to remain silent any longer; so, rising -from my seat, I advanced towards him, and was about offering an -apology, but he overwhelmed me with joyful greetings. Upon his -pressing invitation, I was prevailed upon to remain with him and his -family until the succeeding day, and thus I was favored with ample -opportunities to witness the disposition of the sick mother, and enjoy -her conversations. For this, though I never much liked a sick room, I -afterwards became thankful; for I felt that I had, in rehearsing the -many exploits I had had with her husband, opened new sources for her -enjoyment, whilst I likewise learnt a lesson of the human heart which I -can never fail to hold in remembrance. Upon one occasion, in entering -her apartment, I found her affectionately playing with her boy, and -remarked upon the pleasure she must experience in the possession of so -fine a plaything. - -“Indeed, sir,” said she, “I have my amusement with him. Day after day -I thus while away many an hour, which might otherwise be rendered dull -and tedious, so pleasantly that I scarcely note its passage.” - -“Without him,” remarked I, desirous of ascertaining how so long a -period of confinement could be endured, “time would, no doubt, hang -heavily upon you, and your sources of comfort and pleasure be much -diminished?” - -“Since I have become accustomed to the many gratifications he has -brought me, I can scarcely endure his absence for a single day. Though -he is not my only source of comfort and amusement, to lose him would be -a most terrible affliction.” - -“How,” continued I, putting the question direct, “could you tolerate -this long confinement, and yet retain your youthful glee? I should long -since have perished from utter despondency.” - -“It was not so easily done,” was her answer, whilst a pleasant smile -lighted up her countenance, “yet I made every effort to maintain my -spirits, and with the kind assistance of all around me, I happily -succeeded.” After speaking of the many kindnesses of her friends, and -the constant devotion of her husband, in so animating a manner that -I could not help fully sharing in her feelings, she continued: “If I -cannot move with the busy world, I constantly hear of it, and often -think of it. To appreciate and feel its pleasures, it is not always -necessary that we should actively participate in them. The heart and -mind are the seats of true enjoyment, and the occurrences and events -of busy life can only be pleasing as they harmonize with the one or -the other, whatever may be your condition. There is no joy, unless you -reach them by the right direction, and no pain, unless you approach -them wrongly. The measure of happiness depends more upon the manner -in which they are made to move, than upon external causes. They are -likewise mighty sources of comfort and amusement within themselves. -I had lived happily for a number of years, partaking of all the -enjoyments my tastes suggested, or opportunity presented; and since -confined in this room, I have again and again lived over my former -life. Every incident has been reviewed, even from my infancy to the -present hour. This retrospective life, if I may so denominate it, -is very singular, and withal, very pleasing. The pure pleasure of a -good action is often little experienced whilst you are performing it, -but felt most keenly after it has been done. At times an occurrence -makes you tremble with affright whilst beholding it, and when your -momentary terror has subsided, its ridiculous nature convulses you with -laughter. I have known men to fret, and scold, and swear, for entire -days at the inconveniences that beset them, and when safely over their -difficulties, sit down and detail them again and again with the most -heartfelt merriment. I remember having once encountered a traveller, -who was so provoked at the miserable condition of the road, and the -cold winter weather, as very audibly to wish the company in a much -warmer locality more than fifty times during the slow journey; yet, a -few days after, I met him comfortably seated before a cheerful fire -with a friend, whilst tears of unrestrained laughter rolled down his -cheeks, as he rehearsed this part of his rough experience. Such are the -effects of a combination of the past and the present upon the mind, -and so is it with this retrospective life. That which caused pleasure -once, or made you joyful and merry, will always renew the like emotions -whenever you think of it; that which truly enlisted the feelings of -the heart at one time, will never fail to do so again whenever you -ponder upon it; that which in any way seriously affected you once, will -continue to do so as often as it may be brought to your remembrance; -and the recollection even of many of those things which you would fain -have averted or avoided, may prove objects of gratification. Think of -this, if you please, and by directing your attention more studiously -and carefully upon the past, experiment for yourself, and you will -find that the soul’s impressions are not perishable. Examine the hours -gone by, and you will discover for your future old age beauties which -your present youth cannot fully comprehend or justly appreciate, and -sources of enjoyment scarcely known to you now. Nature has so ordained, -and most charitably and wisely, that each day passed in active, -vigorous youth, should provide for the quiet amusements of age--that -the pleasures of one period of life should happily be productive of -delights for the other, instead of being felt but for the moment and -then forgotten forever.” - -“No doubt, madam,” remarked I, “you are very correct in what you have -said; but to be compelled by necessity, at an age like yours, just -properly adapted for active participation in the affairs and pleasures -of life, to resort to such means of enjoyment, can scarcely be supposed -to place you in so happy a condition as that which you have assigned to -old age.” - -“You may, perhaps,” continued she, “be partly right, but you are -much more wrong. Short, comparatively, as has been my life, it has -furnished material enough for an age of thought, and by using it I -have again and again felt the pleasures of the soul. Then, too, this -was not a dream life, the idle vapors of which could be dispelled by -a sudden transition to reality, for there was nothing in it that had -not, at one time, been really seen and felt. It was rather a life of -quiet and happy reflection. It is not a dream nor delusion to wander -back, by the marvellous power of thought, and take your accustomed -place once more at the social board of a loved and peaceful home, and -have again renewed within you the feelings of youth. It so resembles -the substantial truth that we can scarcely discern a difference, and -revives sympathies so pleasing that we involuntarily desire their -constant presence. The spirit ever retains its hold upon the past, -and the delightful hours of childhood, when we drank in the many joys -of our young and unruffled life, come back again to awaken the same -emotions that animated us then. The affections once more leap into -young and untainted existence, and we feel as guilelessly happy and -buoyant as in youth. No occurrence fails to re-enlist our attention, -but each trifling incident contributes its just portion to our -pleasure. How much we doat upon these things, and how fondly we cherish -them! There,” directing my attention to a neat little article, “lies a -trifling relic of one with whom I had spent many of my days in girlish -companionship. She no more walks the earth, for she sank quietly and -peacefully into the grave, just as she was budding into beautiful -womanhood. She had done the work appointed unto her, and Death gathered -her to himself; but, though she is buried, I never gaze upon that -small trinket without calling up again her sweet image from its solemn -resting place to experience once more, perhaps more vigorously than -ever, the many pleasures we had enjoyed together. Here,” lifting up her -hand, “is a token of friendship which I need but gaze upon to revive a -variety of remembrances so pleasing that I would not exchange them for -the most valuable treasure. How well do I remember the day, the very -hour, though sad it may have been, when this tiny ring first encircled -my finger! It was an hour of parting between loving friends, yet not -an hour in which they forgot each other. Though far away, she still -remembers me as ardently as I retain my recollections of her, and the -many happy moments we spent together. Happily, however, it needs not -these material trifles to wrest from oblivion the incidents of our -lives. One after another we can breathe them into existence as often -as we will, through the powers upon which they have made an enduring -impression, and as they re-appear before us, the hallowed shadows of -substances once enjoyed, we become enchanted with their loveliness. -There is a beauty in this review of life, in thus living over again the -years gone by, that affords the richest comfort to the soul.” - -“Is it then,” queried I, “by thus asking pleasures of an active and -happy past, that you have maintained your freshness of mind and -brilliancy of spirits? In another, the same things would have caused -melancholy and desponding regrets, by exhibiting in contrast a hopeless -and pleasureless future.” - -“My future,” she pleasantly replied, “is not hopeless, but were it even -so, the consequences could not be so sad; neither will it ever be more -void of amusement than the present, which is full of enjoyment. It is -an old Spanish maxim, well suited to the temper of the Spaniard, that -‘he who loseth wealth, loseth much; he who loseth a friend, loseth -more; but he who loseth his spirits, loseth all.’ With so fatal a -loss, the mind sinks deep into despair, and the heart finds nothing to -cheer it. Our natural organization, however, is happily provided with -guards and barriers against it, and to those who are not permitted to -mingle in society, this retrospective life is the best and noblest of -them all. There is no reliable middle course in affliction, and if you -guard against the pressure of unfavorable circumstances, you not merely -avoid the dangers of despondency, but also increase your capacities -for enjoyment. Your heart will mellow and expand by sickness, and -whatever coldness or indifference characterized it, will yield before -the power of sympathy. The ill in your nature will be imperceptibly -destroyed, and the good remain standing alone. Where before you were -quick to censure, you will manifest generous forbearance, and even -positive injuries will be forgotten and forgiven. How well is this -state and condition adapted for a review of the past! Whilst it causes -you to extend friendship to those whom you hated, it attaches you so -closely to those whom you loved that your very being seems to become -blended with theirs. In your adoration of them, their lives are made -part of your own, and though they may not always claim an interest so -intense, they afford equal enjoyment. You ponder upon their adventures, -contrasting them with your own, and each separate incident affords new -matter for the employment of your thoughts. If, then, I have my own -life spread out before me, and the lives of those who are nearest and -dearest to me, have I not sources of enjoyment sufficient to do much -more than maintain my present spirits and buoyancy.” - -Thus she continued ever finding something to interest her mind, -and bring pleasure to her lively affections; whilst I felt pleased -with this happy manifestation of her well-trained disposition, and -found in it much to instruct. Here was one whom I had regarded as a -fit object for compassion, enjoying herself more than the vast mass -of humanity much better situated for enjoyment. All this, too, by -properly guarding and guiding her thoughts. Here was a commentary on -human happiness, showing how well we are adapted for pleasure, and what -sources of comfort we may be of ourselves. The deep and unseen springs -of sensibility and joy within us, thus made to gush forth at our will, -augur a higher and sublimer destiny. The crude philosopher, or the -still cruder sceptic, may doubt and deny, but still they will continue -to direct him to the imperishable testimonies of immortality. It is not -within us to believe, that the power which dictates and controls our -thoughts and our impulses, so tender that every impression made upon -it even in infancy retains its hold until the grave closes over us, is -destined to be forever obliterated. Even in life, it gives us evidences -of eternity. Should we live for countless ages, though the particles -composing our bodies might continually yield to decay and be replaced -by others, its own identity would be maintained, nor could we erase -from it the impressions of our childhood. No change in life can destroy -it, or move it from its directing and controlling sphere. Is it, then, -merely the unsatisfying mystery of an invisible element, endowed with -the capacity of preserving and summoning before us the shadows of -past beauties, though doomed itself to perish? Is it only a fleeting, -flickering ray, simply given to illumine our physical existence, whose -last flash shall be forever extinguished when the nature to which it -was joined sinks before the rough contacts of earth, or slowly dies -out of its own infirmities? Happily, it awakens sweeter thoughts, and -inspires higher hopes. Its brightness is not like the passing lustre of -the moonbeam, receding behind the first murky cloud that floats across -its path, but may be made to shine only the more brilliantly through -the surrounding darkness. With her, whose afflictions and pleasures I -have faintly described, it was not a mere visionary creature, conjured -up by powerful imagery, and clothed with the devices of a fine fancy, -yet compelled to fall before the first truthful reality it encountered. -Following out its mission in truth, it is our faithful companion and -guide through life; and who shall deny it another sphere of nobler -existence, where it may never cease to feast upon the untold loveliness -of creation, and forever dwell upon the past, reviewing its own good -deeds with unabating gratitude to its author, and unending happiness to -itself. - - - - -AN ANONYMOUS WRITING, - -WHICH HAD SERVED AS AN ENVELOPE TO THE FOLLOWING PAPER. - - -The manuscript enclosed was found upon the desk of the Secretary and -read by permission. The author, perhaps to his own credit, cautiously -withheld his name. Though many inquiries were made without success, -I could not avoid ascribing its paternity to a young rogue near me, -who appeared greatly pleased with it; and after the reading, desired -the Junto to take the labor of reducing the practice of lying to a -science under its immediate supervision and protection. This imprudent -expression of his wish at once involved him in numerous difficulties. -It was looked upon as a very slanderous reflection, and the poor fellow -was so roughly handled that he not only gladly withdrew it, but himself -also, perhaps a little wiser than he had been before. His difficulties -no doubt impressed him with a proper idea of the value of discretion, -and certainly taught him that no matter how much men may be given to -evil habits, they are averse to having their faults paraded before -their own eyes as well as to seeing them exposed to the gaze of others. -They may be addicted to a disgraceful practice, yet ask them to avow -and openly protect it, and they will raise such a terrible clatter -about your ears that you are fain to withdraw as speedily as possible. - - - - - - -THE EXCELLENCIES OF LYING. - - - “The art of silence and of well-term’d speech.” OLD POET. - -Of the many practices to which our people are addicted, and which -exhibit their progress towards the higher walks of civilization, there -is none more prominent than the habit of lying. Celius wrote of Pompey, -“he is wont to think one thing and speak another;” and we may say, that -amongst us, it has almost become difficult to decide, whether we act -upon the principle that language was invented to express our thoughts, -or simply for the purpose of enabling us to conceal them. - -I have an old friend who, adding to a mind accustomed to accurate -observation, more than fifty years of experience, frequently remarks -that he has never yet had half a dozen conversations with any person, -without detecting a falsehood.[1] It is well known that in our day it -is scarcely possible to bargain even with a saint, without discovering -him a liar; and I verily believe that had all who ever indulged this -habit been treated like Ananias and his spouse, the world would long -since have been depopulated. Fortunately, none are now so summarily -punished, or there would be a terrible “falling down and giving up -of the ghost.” For this generous forbearance, we may, perhaps, be -indebted to the superiority which we have acquired over these two -rude victims. We have certainly improved somewhat upon their example, -yet it must be owned that our progress in this habit has not been -commensurate with that made in the other improvements of the age. Some -of the fabrications of the Carthaginians and old Assyrians, noted -for their proficiency in this particular, were greatly superior to -any encountered in the present day. We have lost the ancient spirit, -which, it is feared, can only be revived by re-enacting some of the -ancient laws. For instance, in Sparta, it is said, thieves were -punished, not for stealing, but for permitting themselves to be caught; -the law-makers, no doubt, arguing that the fool deserves severer -chastisement than the rogue. Were the same rule adopted now as to -lying, it would soon close the mouths of those arrant bunglers who so -frequently provoke our ridicule and contempt. - -Man was originally endowed with the power of clear and distinct -articulation, which, after some improvement, enabled him to convey what -ideas he pleased to his fellows. It is agreeable to all experience that -in using this excellent gift, he should consult his own convenience, -and he has accordingly introduced this habit of lying. From the highest -to the humblest, and from the gray-haired old man to his youthful -grand-child, all find it of use. The priest, the lawyer, the physician, -have rendered it a necessary part of their professions. Tradesmen and -mechanics have by no means neglected it, and some have made such signal -use of it, that we now look upon the sons of Crispin as comparable only -to a horde of Cretians, who, we are assured by excellent authority, -_were always liars_. The conveniences resulting from this practice have -ever been so very apparent, that its origin was almost coeval with the -existence of man; for one of our primitive ancestors, after exhibiting -his moral depravity by murdering his brother, was stupid enough, -when asked the whereabouts of the slain, to answer the all-knowing -questioner, “I know not; am I my brother’s keeper?” Since his day it -has been introduced into every walk of life, and is now used without -reference to the occasion--some being even so addicted to it as to -tell a lie when the simple truth would answer better. In childhood we -seek to avoid the rod by resorting to it, and when we attain to years -of discretion we find it convenient upon much more trifling occasions. -Does some intolerable bore intrude upon you, you dismiss him to the -digestion of a lie, and find pleasure in the reflection of having done -so. When an impatient creditor duns you, what more convenient than -a plausible falsehood? When an appeal is made to your purse by some -importunate borrower or beggar, you know well how to answer him by an -untruth. Should you get into difficulty, you study what virtue there is -in language, and use it to effect your end. When an inquisitive wife -pests you with her troublesome inquiries, you have the example of an -honorable Roman senator for telling her a lie; and when you have broken -a promise, why, you know well how to excuse yourself by resorting to -the same means that caused its violation. - -Knowing the great conveniences of this habit, and being masters of -our tongues, the fault lies with us if we cannot touch whatever chord -in the nature of our fellows that we wish to arouse. To attain this -degree of perfection, however, we should be properly schooled. Ever -since the times of Thauth, Hermes, and Cadmus, many have endeavored -to excel in efforts to reduce the gift of speech to writing, and to -regular rules and systems. Every variety of sciences, whatever their -pretensions, have so used it as best to promote their interests, -inventing new words, or assigning strange meanings to old ones, -whenever occasion required. It has been the great fountain and support -of every excellence of which we know, and the powerful medium of every -humbug that has heretofore cursed society. It may, therefore, appear -strange that no one has yet, for the great benefit of mankind in -general, resorted to it for the elements to establish, as a distinct -profession, the art of well and skillfully framing a falsehood. - -The schools of philosophy have settled it that men may lie. Whether -they have done so upon the strength of the bold opinion of the crafty -Lysander, that truth and falsehood are indifferent things; or upon the -comprehensive saying of Sophocles, “I judge no speech amiss that is of -use;” or upon the more designing maxim of the Spaniard, “tell a lie and -you will get out the truth;” or upon the anatomical principle of the -petit Prince of Bantam, which will certainly be admired by our modern -physiologists, “my tongue has no bone in it to make it more stiff than -is necessary for my interest;” it is not material here to determine. -Suffice it; that it has been so settled, and as our practices conform -to so enlightened a decision, policy would seem to require that they -be reduced to regular and systematic rules. It is true, some have -manifested considerable anxiety to secure for this habit a kind of -scientific distinction. They have accordingly had resort to the stars, -or if despairing of flights so lofty, the hand or a pack of cards -answered equally well to tell a fortune by. Though their plans and -schemes were sufficiently ingenious, lying itself could not endure -them. They could hope for no proselytes except amongst the credulous, -and even amongst those they could only gain such as believed there was -as much “pleasure in being cheated as to cheat.” Thus their efforts in -this excellent work, have not only been defeated, notwithstanding the -high encouragement they sometimes received, but if Euripides speaks to -the purpose, they themselves have been made to feel the consequences of -their mistakes: - - “What’s an Astrologer? I thus reply, - A man who speaks few truths, but many a lie, - Which, when found out, he takes his heels to fly.” - -Perhaps their great failure is principally to be attributed to the -narrow defectiveness of the founder of their tribe. It is true, the -worthy man’s name has not yet been definitely ascertained, but then -this very ignorance has helped us out of our perplexities in searching -for it. The writers and critics upon Junius, when unable to discover -the author of the famous letters, very sagely conclude that he was a -man who had made himself acquainted with the affairs of his time, and -who was, withal, somewhat of a genius. So Voltaire has disposed of this -query in a very summary manner, by assuring us that “the first rogue -who met with the first block-head” was the inventor of soothsaying. -Whilst this conclusion has been generally accepted as a very -satisfactory one, it must be admitted that, though he may have been -an acute rogue, he was none the less an indiscreet one, or he would -not have attempted to confine this important privilege and practice of -lying within so exclusive a circle. - -There could be no lack of material in speech upon which to construct -a system of scientific lying. Perhaps, by applying to it a term -which has long since been banished from “ears polite,” on account of -its harshness, I may be accused of a want of interest in so noble -an enterprise. If so, I can only render as an excuse, that if lying -can claim any one merit more than another, it is that of having ever -maintained its own identity, no matter what efforts were made to -increase its respectability by titles supposed to be more delicate. In -this particular, it must be owned, it has always resembled its author, -who, whether known as Satan or Beelzebub, Lucifer or Pluto, is nothing -but the plain, common devil after all; and who, though you should call -him an angel, would be the devil still. Thus sacrificing no merit which -it can justly claim, the difficulties of reducing it to a science could -be easily overcome. - -An old maxim has it that “fools and children sometimes speak the -truth.” If “maxims are the condensed good sense of nations,” as -Sir James Mackintosh pithily observes, it would require excessive -presumption to deny the wisdom of this one, so universally received -and acted upon. The ancient moralists, after rearing a queer medley -of truth and nonsense upon a few wise sayings, pronounced the -heterogeneous mass the “Science of Morality.” This was at least -generous, for it must be owned that a more convenient appellation for -all who desired to sin according to moral law, could not have been -invented by their philosophic magnanimity. “It is in the creed, sir,” -would have answered every accusation, and put an end to all further -contention. “Know thyself,” and “Too much of nothing,” proverbial -sayings for ages, were so well received that the seven wise men of -Greece consecrated them to Apollo, and inscribed them in letters of -gold upon the door of his temple at Delphos. After so important a -precedent of respect to maxims, notwithstanding the many changes -wrought by time since the days of Thales and Solon, he who should seek -to reduce the practice of lying to scientific rules, might claim equal -consideration for the axiom given above, which he would of course so -interpret as to make all wise men liars. If the wisest and the best who -ever assumed the troublesome nature of man, could hang all the law and -the prophets upon two commandments, surely the modern man of science -might build a system upon a single maxim, whose object would be more to -increase the dominion of Satan than the glory of a different kingdom. -The service he would thus render to society would be incalculable, and -forever perpetuate his name as one of its most worthy benefactors. By -teaching the public, young and old, and without distinction of sex, to -lie according to an approved system, our contempt would no longer be -aroused by the fools now addicted to the practice, and who constantly -exhibit a stupidity only equalled by that of the first liar of whom -we have any record. Though we may have mules in the professions, who -only make work for keener and shrewder knaves, and blunderers in the -sciences, this should be no excuse for bunglers in this most worthy art -of lying. Such, however, could readily be got rid of by elevating the -habit to the dignity of a science, which each should be permitted to -practice after being skilled in its rules. To secure the more general -proficiency of those who desired to study the system, it should be -made an indispensable antecedent requisite, that they be fully worthy -of their Prince, and as honest as the Lombardian sect spoken of in the -bull of Pope Adrian VI., who fully acknowledged the devil as their -head, and promised obedience to him. - - P. A. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] _Note._--The editor was at first inclined to believe that this -old man could never have been within the circle of good society, but -the developments of the times have removed this uncharitable opinion. -When one half, or more, of the independent lay people of this country, -together with perhaps one-third of the ministers of the Gospel, (for -such is the general estimate,) can voluntarily connect themselves with -a secret political organization, one of whose principles is universally -felt to be the worst species of lying, it may not be long before it -will be extremely difficult to find a man of real truth.--ED. - - - - -A PAPER - -FILED AWAY WITH THE FOLLOWING TALE. - - -The tale of the Alchemist was related at our meeting to a concourse of -as drowsy listeners as I ever saw congregated around a cheerful fire. -The individual who related it, however, manifested a deep interest -in every incident of the story. Indeed, when he arrived at some of -the more startling and mysterious passages in it, he gave them with a -ghostly intonation of voice, slowly and cautiously, looking anxiously -around him to discover what impression they made. He exerted all his -powers to be interesting, and preserved a very serious air throughout; -which caused me to greatly suspect him as one of those easy-natured -creatures, who are ever willing to believe whatever they hear, without -troubling their heads for philosophic reasons, or permitting their -faith to be at all interfered with by measuring probabilities. - -After he had finished, it was soon ascertained that the story is a -genuine tradition, as faithfully believed by many as any chapter in -their Bibles, and certainly oftener thought of and repeated. Upon -being questioned, he replied that he had heard it from a number of -citizens of well-known veracity, and that to doubt it was regarded, -in the neighborhood where the events occurred, as the rankest heresy. -Then, too, he added, it has some strong points to recommend it to our -belief: it definitely disposes of several matters which would otherwise -be compelled to remain forever unsettled; it is old, and many have -heretofore given it full credit, which should make us slow to doubt; -much of it is marvelous, and therefore incomprehensible, and what we -cannot understand it would be irrational to condemn or deny. - -This provided against every doubt, and left no other choice but to -believe or remain silent. The latter seemed to be generally preferred, -and the story was accordingly received as one of those strange tales -in which every town used to abound, and filed away as a part of the -traditional history of the village to which it related. - - S----Y - - - - -THE ALCHEMIST; OR, THE MAGIC FUNNEL. - - -In a small village on the banks of the Susquehanna, several miles from -the present location of the capitol of Pennsylvania, many years ago, -there lived a very singular individual known to the villagers by the -name of Felix Deford. He resided in a little log building at one end -of the village, and during the first year of his abode there, never -spoke over half a dozen words to any one of his neighbors. This strange -exclusiveness, in a community so small that each one not only knew -the other but was perfectly familiar with his most trifling habits -and pursuits, excited great curiosity, as could very naturally have -been expected. He at once became the subject of general conversation, -and various surmises were suggested in explanation of his conduct, -in the propounding of which the ladies were decidedly the most -prolific. This was owing, it was affirmed, to their naturally more -inquisitive dispositions; but, in the present instance, I am inclined -to believe that it resulted rather from their having been endowed with -feelings more tender and sympathetic than those of the opposite sex. -This opinion seems to derive great strength from the fact that their -conjectures generally agreed in assigning as the cause of his secluded -habits, some unfortunate occurrence that depressed his spirits, and -made him melancholy. - -It was indeed no little entertaining to hear the quiet and simple -villagers, at their gossipping meetings, discussing the case of this -mysterious stranger, for to them he was doubly a stranger, from -whatever view they might regard him. Though they occasionally saw him, -yet so far as social intercourse was concerned, he might as well have -been in China. During the first year of his residence amongst them, -notwithstanding their many efforts to effect an acquaintance, they had -not been able to ascertain anything respecting him beyond his name, -which he never manifested the least disposition to conceal. Whatever -advances had been made towards a closer intimacy he had invariably -repelled, but always in a manner, and with a modest and attractive -politeness, which only prepossessed those who had made them the -more in his favor. Instead of losing their interest in him through -the progress of time, their anxiety daily increased to obtain some -knowledge of his manner of life, if nothing more. As yet, no one had -been inside of his house since he resided in it, not even the rent -collector, upon whom all had looked as likely, at least partially, to -gratify them in this particular. - -On a warm evening in the month of August, a large party met at the -house of one of the villagers, when, as was usual at such gatherings, -the subject of conversation turned upon the queer habits of Felix -Deford. One fair young creature, who had once been favored with a sight -of him, gave it as her opinion, that not having heeded the judicious -counsel of Sophocles, “never let woman rob thee of thy wits,” his -hopes had been wrecked in some sad and unsuccessful love adventure. -In giving vent to her sympathies for the unfortunate Felix, she did -not refrain from denouncing the cruelty of some of her sex in a -manner which modestly intimated, that her own heart would never have -permitted her to send so devoted a lover as he must have been into -miserable exile. This was immediately taken up by a sharp-visaged, -hatchet-faced specimen of the ancient maiden lady, whose beauty, had -she lived ages ago, would scarcely have induced the most forlorn -Grecian gallant to pronounce her, in the expressive and complimentary -phrase of his time, “a virgin who gained oxen.” For forty years she -had experienced the terrors of single blessedness, from what cause -she could not divine, which had by no means rendered her patient and -charitable. She unhesitatingly advanced it as her judgment, that his -conduct, if love had anything to do with it, resulted rather from -remorse of conscience for past offences than from female cruelty. -Examples of this kind were not wanting, and she herself had once known -a Frenchman the recollection of whose wicked amours so preyed upon his -mind that he voluntarily banished himself from the sight of men--as -severe a punishment, it was thought, as could possibly be inflicted -upon a Frenchman. An old lady here interposed, and related a story -of a melancholy individual, whose many deplorable mishaps had fully -convinced him of the ancient theory, that each one was born under a -good or an evil genius. It had been his direful fate to have been -ushered into the world under one of the latter kind. Whatever he had -been prompted to undertake, soon gave evidence that, however fickle -a goddess Fortune may be, to him she was ever constant: not that she -loved him, but merely because she was even more patient and spiteful -than an affronted Corsair. Nothing would prosper under his protection, -though he had been as watchful as a vestal virgin. He had frequently -envied the Grecian youth who, killing his step-mother in endeavoring -to hurl a stone at a dog, exclaimed, “Fortune had a better aim than -I.” If luck had been half as favorably inclined towards him, some -fortunate accident would not so long have permitted a Fury in the -form of a termagant wife to have added to his troubles. After wooing -Fortune for a number of years to no purpose, he at length determined -at least to escape her frowns and punishments, if he could not share -her civilities; and therefore betook himself to the wood to adopt -the life of the anchorite. What became of him after this was never -clearly ascertained, but it was supposed his evil genius had found in -him too good a subject to be abandoned to the whining winds of the -forest. To this a young gentleman replied that he had good reason to -believe that Felix was not so much a fool. He at least gave evidence -of possessing more fortitude, judging from the manner in which he had -resisted the repeated and troublesome inquiries of the villagers. It -may be, suggested the young man, that he had come to the village from -mere love of a retired life; or, perhaps, being of studious habits, he -sought its quietude to prosecute his researches. Another one remarked, -that he had once known a very worthy and pious minister, who had been -so exclusively given to religious meditations, that he had often wished -for the most solemn privacy and quietude; and had it not been for the -sweet temper of his lovely wife and her happy efforts to interest and -cheer him, he would inevitably have shut himself up in some dungeon. -An interesting young Miss, who had spent much of her time in reading -novels, now thought it her turn to venture an opinion, which she did -by drawing upon the extensive and valuable stock of stories hoarded -in her memory. She had often read of men, who, though they could not -transform themselves like Mœris, the magical shepherd, or become -altogether lycanthropic, yet abandoned human society to mingle with -wild beasts in forests and deserts, or in the darker recesses of cliffs -and caves. Having fixed their affections upon some object, their souls -became wrapped up in its pursuit and attainment, and when disappointed, -they could not withstand the revulsion of feeling that necessarily -followed, and therefore flew to solitude. Some of these, interrupted -the sharp-visaged elderly lady before alluded to, were no doubt driven -to such extremities through the excessive indulgence of evil passions, -through bitter regrets and remorse, through a deep sense of their -infamy, or to hide their shame whilst planning new villanies to be -practiced after the old ones had been forgotten. - -This proved an unfortunate interruption, and had a remarkable effect in -preparing the minds of the party for what followed. Under the influence -of a particular impression, we are often led to make ourselves -ridiculous, or to do that of which we afterwards seriously repent. -The ideas naturally prompted by the words of the last speaker, were -well intended to reverse the course of their remarks when aided by what -transpired immediately after. She had scarcely finished her insinuating -speech, before a new acquisition was made to the circle by the entrance -of a young man, a simple, good-natured soul, whose silly humors had -frequently afforded amusement to his more knowing acquaintances. He -reported that, having just passed Deford’s house, he heard a terrible -racket, and upon endeavoring to ascertain the cause, by placing his -head against the door, he became so much alarmed by the mixed confusion -within that he quickly hastened away. True, he had seen nothing, but -his ears had convinced him that the sounds were unearthly, and not -the voices of ordinary human beings. They were unlike anything he had -ever heard before, and then, too, they were accompanied by singular -groans and painful hisses, by the clatter of chains, and the jingling -of small sharp-sounding bells, and by a confused noise which much -resembled that occasioned by rapidly striking two pieces of sheet-iron -against each other. Such a formidable array of incomprehensible things -had not failed to make a very visible impression upon the countenance -of the young man, which, however, was only regarded as confirming his -tale. After this astonishing narration, though before there were few -in that circle who had not regarded Felix as an honest, well-bred -gentleman, there was little charity left amongst them, and indeed -much less sense. Their minds were now directed into another channel -of thought, and quite different causes were alleged as explanatory of -Deford’s habits--so sure are we to follow the lead of what is uppermost -in our heads, though we should be rendered the veriest fools for our -pains. Each of them now had some fanciful story to relate, and it -soon became the settled conviction that poor Felix had to be shunned, -for there could be no telling what mischief he might bring upon the -village. Some expressed their thoughts that perhaps he might be nothing -more than an escaped convict after all, or some despicable outlaw, -who was compelled to keep himself hid to avoid detection. Others had -heard of highwaymen and freebooters, after a long life of crime and -infamy, retiring to some private habitation quietly to enjoy their -plunder, and repent of their misdeeds at leisure: a practice now much -in vogue amongst lesser criminals, and highly honorable in refined -and civilized communities, though it was then little known to the -rude and industrious villagers. Others, still, had heard of those who -hunted up unfrequented and gloomy places to meet the hideous spectres -of the night in their peregrinations “up and down the earth;” whilst -a fourth even recollected individual instances of miserable wretches -resorting to hidden and secluded spots to hold communion with the evil -one. Certain it was, there were few now in that circle who were willing -to affirm that Deford’s conduct was the result of good motives or an -honorable career. The tide of opinion was turned against him, so sure -is an odd demeanor, sooner or later, destined to breed ill-thoughts in -those around us, and arouse suspicion. Curiosity hates to be baffled, -and when it seizes hold of an entire neighborhood, it becomes a -dangerous thing, and the discreet and judicious man will always avoid -it. Without a guide to govern and control it, the itching phrensy of -inquisitiveness is as limitless in its range as it is void of reason -and discretion. - -Whilst, however, the villagers had been moved to the highest degree -of anxiety to learn something more of Felix than simply his name, he -was no less curious concerning matters of quite a different character, -but which were of about equal significance. Unfortunately for him, he -was one of those deluded, so-called philosophers who have always had -their counterparts in all ages of the world; and who, despising simple -and common things, as a French commentator truly observes, followed -the lead of quaint fancies and cheating vagaries, even rejecting the -plainest truths unless they came invested with a charm to gratify their -desire for the extraordinary and marvelous. Every fantastic story of -ghost or goblin that had come to his knowledge, and every mysterious -witch transaction, had, to him, been important matters for study. He -had squandered many days in search of an antidote to decrease the -dominion of death, yet never attempted to wrest from its grasp any poor -victim of disease. “Was there not,” he would ask of himself, “a tree of -life in the garden of Eden, and if its fruit possessed the magic power -of imparting perpetual life, has nature lost the qualities and elements -of which they were composed? Are we not informed by the ancient Skalds -and Sagas, that the heroes and warriors of old, when pressed down and -enfeebled by age, repaired to the fair and beautiful Iduna, to eat of -the ‘apples of youth,’ and become young again?” To him, the efforts -of the Spanish voyager, Juan Ponce de Leon, in search of the mystic -spring, located, by tradition, somewhere amongst the sands of Florida, -a sip of whose precious waters imparted rejuvenescence, and secured -perennial youth, had been an enterprise so noble that better success -should have crowned it. Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastes Paracelsus -Honenhelm, after first pruning down his monstrous name to decent -proportions, which was, perhaps, the most sensible act he performed -during his life, became possessed of the _elixir vita_. “If,” thought -Felix, “the foolish neglect of a careless and fickle world, which not -unfrequently throws away its greatest blessings, or treats them with -contempt for long periods of time, permitted such important knowledge -to be entirely lost, the best, if not the only thing that can be -done, is to endeavor to restore it again.” Most excellent reasoning, -and practical enough for a better cause. How vast, how immeasurably -incalculable would be the results following the revelation of these -hidden mysteries, which formed but a trifling portion of the wonderful -and marvelous things to the investigation of which Felix had devoted -his life! The elixir of Paracelsus would effectually banish from the -world the innumerable nostrums now poured down the throats of the -public in torrents which threaten to supersede entirely the use of -nature’s beverage as a drink. The visitors to Florida would far exceed -in number and array the pilgrims to Mecca, or the deluded travellers -towards the holy waters of the Ganges. Fortunate Iduna! what a mighty -host of love-sick swains would woo thee! Who, then, would have reason -to lament over the terrible inroads of age? The pleasant and innocent -means now resorted to, with most commendable patience and perseverance, -to conceal its hated furrows and wrinkles, would be doomed to oblivion, -as things interdicted from human remembrance. The novelty of nature, -unadorned by such admirable arts, which many have been so anxious to -behold, would then be everywhere paraded to the popular gaze, and -habit would soon accustom us to its sight. Some inspired poet, then, -might sing a doleful requiem over rouge and pearl, and no loving -youth would be compelled to search a clear, unpainted, and unpowdered -spot whereon to kiss his lady-love. None, too, would then be moved to -re-echo the regret of Euripides, - - “----That men should be deny’d - The gift of springing to a second youth, - A double age!” - -And what might not be the salutary effects upon the world’s morality, -for could - - “----We turn our steps, and tread again - The path of life, what slips we once had made - We would correct, and every cheating maze - Avoid, where folly lost our way before.” - -Through these discoveries, so potent in their influence and wide in -their range, the world might possibly become stocked with a superior -order of men, and its wickedness cease to be a constant and an endless -subject of complaint. It would then be a delight to live in it amid its -general harmony and concord; and none would be made to appreciate the -feelings frequently expressed by a friend of mine, who always resolved, -whenever disgusted at the depravity now too common, to emigrate to -some uninhabited island, and commence the world anew, in imitation of -old Adam, firmly believing that he could raise a better brood. - -Felix Deford, however, during his residence in the village, had been -more particularly engaged in other inquiries. The things which we -ordinarily encounter during life, were far too dull and stupid for -his ardent nature. He longed for something more extraordinary and -marvelous, and accordingly betook himself to search for it. He had wit -enough to know, that nature, so far as it is understood, has fixed a -certain, definite rule of government which had first to be surmounted -before the supernatural could be attained. This had been done long -before his time, and so very signally, that even the most wonderful -metamorphosis were wrought with perfect ease. Does not Pliny himself -affirm, and he certainly should have known, that the change of females -into males is not fabulous, and Montaigne assure us that he actually -saw a man who had once been a woman? Thanks, we should rather say -to Felix, that such magic powers are known no more; for in our day, -when women so madly aspire to man’s condition, the stock would soon -be entirely lost. Felix, however, apprehended no evil consequences -from such a discovery, for women would then be no longer needed, and -who, argued he, could suffer to be incommoded with them but for their -absolute necessity? Whatever dangers suggested themselves to his mind -upon this score, he rapidly dismissed, with the reflection that the -world was at no loss for inhabitants, and after a sip from the mystic -spring, or a slice from Iduna’s apple, the race would no longer require -replenishing, and could therefore readily afford to dispense with the -fairer portion of creation. If we contemplate with awe the ruins of -nations, ideas of whose imposing grandeur have been transmitted to us -for our admiration and wonder, and ponder with melancholy anguish upon -the fact that millions of human creatures were crushed in their fall, -what strange emotions, what terrible feelings, would not be inspired by -the total extinction of the most lovely of the sexes--the first honored -companion of solitary man in the sacred bowers of Eden! No, Felix; -no discovery, though it should be a secret passage to the gates of -Paradise, could atone for so sad a loss. Woman was the only instrument -of Godly mercy fit to shed a ray of sunshine upon the path of man when -first his race began. Though she caused him to go astray, she has done -much to repair her error. In the bright glory yet in reserve for her, -to calm and cheer the agony and despair of his last hour with the sweet -and exhaustless affection of her lovely nature, well will she redeem -the stain her impulsive confidence brought upon her angelic character. - -The realization of these unnatural powers constituted the dream of -Felix, and for this he had devoted his hours to magic in his solitary -study, which, to the view of a stranger, would have much resembled -the operating room of an industrious philosopher. Old, musty, and -neglected volumes, bearing ample evidence that they had undergone the -vicissitudes of many years, and suffered treatment too barbarous to -be entirely ascribed to the hands of studious and inquisitive man, -were piled promiscuously upon the shelves. Scarcely one of them could -boast an entire cover, and their black letter and roughly ornamented -pages presented a bold contrast to the volumes of the present day. -Around the room were seen numerous instruments, with now and then some -strange apparatus--things for which science had but few names, and -common parlance was a total blank. In one corner your eye met nothing -but crucibles, mortars, urns, pots, kettles, and cans; in another, -you beheld a variety of jugs, decanters, bottles, and vials; whilst -others contained a mass as indescribable as it was nameless. All, too, -bore testimony of having been frequently used, and emitted a repulsive -scent, sufficiently exhibiting that it required no very refined sense -of smell to detest the pursuit of an alchemist. The rules of neatness -and arrangement, however, were not neglected in all this confusion. In -the centre of the room a large circle was drawn, whilst the walls were -totally covered with odd signs, strange figures, and mystic devices. -Here it was that the magician employed his charms, and conjured up his -spells, and here the alchemist pursued his intricate investigations. -Here Felix had applied himself, with a devotion worthy of the greatest -commendation, to realize, by magic and alchemistic means, the dreams -of those deluded Germans whose fantastic theories, for so long a -time, had run away with the reason and good sense of their native -contemporaries, and eventually worked similar results in different -sections of the world. He longed to verify the fancies of Rosencreutz, -which had set many a man’s “wits a wool-gathering,” and made strange -fools of some of the cleverest, but too credulous, fellows of all -Europe and elsewhere. How happy he would have been in having been -brought into closer communion with his Maker, or made the companion -of noble spirits to whose wisdom he could have given the impress of -utility, and thus eventually succeeded in driving pain, disease, and -sorrow from the world! Had not the noted Dr. Torralba a magic Zequiel, -apparently unlimited in power, to accompany him as his pledged and -faithful friend, and had not Naude’s “zenith and rising sun of all the -Alchymists,” the skilful Paracelsus, a spirit confined in the hilt of -his sword, and another imprisoned in a jewel? The famous magician, -Cornelius Agrippa, whose talents are attested by the great Erasmus and -the smooth and gentle Melancthon, did not only command the demons of -the earth and the spirits of the air, but could even break in upon -the repose of the dead, in the presence of whose greatness he would -have cowered during their lives, and summon them before him, clothed -in their accustomed habiliments! Though the tunic and mantle of the -ancient Grecian had been decayed for centuries, and his body consumed -by the devouring limestone which had composed his singular sarcophagus, -the dismembered particles came together again, and were compelled to -reappear at the powerful bidding of Cornelius. This wonderful knowledge -of the historiographer of the Emperor Charles V., and the author of the -“Superiority of the Female Sex,” to the great loss of the world, had -been permitted to perish with him, and perhaps forever. Though Felix -was industriously laboring to restore it again, and revive the marvels -of magic and alchemy, it must be acknowledged he was not exceedingly -well adapted for the task. Although he had energy and perseverance -to surmount every conquerable obstacle, he yet lacked two essential -elements--he possessed too much honesty, and not enough imagination. -Every pursuit requires certain qualities of mind and heart, and in -none have imagery and dishonesty more to do than in that in which he -was engaged. They are indispensable to success in such an enterprise, -and in both Felix was deficient. To speak the simple truth, there was -a limit to his madness. He was weak enough not to doubt the truth of -the superhuman exploits and performances ascribed to the masters in -the art, whose works he had diligently studied; yet not sufficiently -crazy to see unearthly visions appearing in answer to his charms and -incantations, when, in truth, there was nothing but vacancy before his -eyes. - -Combining the fanatical theories of Bohmen, with the more rational and -philosophic demonstrations of common chemistry, he would undoubtedly -have triumphed in his inquiries but for his deficiency in the qualities -alluded to as essential to the alchemist. Though he had dreaded a -search for the philosopher’s stone, that great marvel for ages, after -so many had failed before him; yet if Agrippa had so far succeeded as -to change iron into gold, though it was destined to be converted into -simple and worthless stone after one revolution of the earth, might -not an improvement be made which should render the metamorphosis more -permanent? Whether Agrippa had worked this wonder, which, indeed, -would have furnished the clue to all others, by the discovery of the -pebble for which so many had searched in vain, or through the direct -intervention of the devil, had always been a mystery to Felix; but he -had pondered upon it again and again, until it eventually brought him -to the determination of summoning his satanic majesty before him. -Although satan had unquestionably proved himself a bad magician, if he -had been the instrument made use of by Agrippa, Felix believed this -was owing rather to his wily and treacherous nature than to a want of -power. This determination once fixed, he resorted to the best approved -arts usually employed in invoking demons and spirits, and such had -been one of his principal occupations during the latter period of his -residence in the village. He by no means desired their visits upon -mere terms of intimacy and friendship, but demanded absolute dominion -over them before compelling them into his presence. Justin Martyr, -and all the most ancient Fathers,--and certainly their statements -ought to be of great weight,--had too strongly depicted the horrors -wrought by bad demons who had visited the earth, for Felix to desire -their reappearance without possessing full power to control them. -These learned and devout men, venerated even to this day with a kind -of religious fervor, had furnished enough, and more, to show that such -supernatural agents had not lost the worst vices of humanity, but in -addition possessed greater means of indulging them, which they were not -timid in exercising. Felix Deford knew the world’s many afflictions -too well to wish to add any more to their number; but he believed that -a charm so potent as to force the powers of darkness to obey its -summons, had only to be dispelled to drive them back to their homes -again. - -It would be wrong to neglect stating here, that if the masters whose -astonishing knowledge and power Felix admired, mingled the mysteries of -religion with their theories and principles, he by no means disregarded -them. If it be true, (and who doubts it?) that in the antediluvian -age, men had lived so many years as to make life resemble a sweet and -pleasant immortality upon earth, a very remarkable change must have -been effected since then. In the opinions of his masters, that this -long life had been the result of a closer communion with the divine -element, of social intercourse with the many good spirits supposed to -inhabit and abound in space, and of possessing a controlling power over -the evil ones, he saw no poetry, but the serious truths of philosophy. -Here, then, there had been sufficient to attract his attention to the -mysterious portions of his Bible, just as the disbeliever is drawn to -those which human intellect is incapable of solving or reconciling. His -researches, however, had a less ruinous effect, for they perplexed only -himself, and did no harm to others. - -He pursued his studies, boiled his mystic herbs, applied his -minerals, made his magic mixtures, and resolved his wild problems, -constantly expecting some answer from regions which he was incapable -of penetrating. His failures never daunted him, for the doctrines -of his masters had been too well settled in his mind, and he was too -thoroughly convinced of their accuracy, to permit a supposition of -their untruth. He was neither so vain nor impatient as to reproach -his predecessors because he had failed to meet with equal success, -but ascribed his repeated disappointments to his own deficiencies and -imperfections. He had been too intent upon his studies to have much -concerned himself about the villagers, who, ever since the meeting of -the evening party before described, suspected his motives and feared -his designs. Not knowing what evils he might bring upon them, and -impelled by a very troublesome curiosity, they imagined the worst, -so naturally are we given to exaggeration; and now began to refuse -supplying him with the requisite comforts of life, thus expecting to -bring matters to a decisive point. This, at last, compelled him to -greater sociability, but he refused to become communicative. Though -asked a thousand times, directly and indirectly, concerning his -solitary pursuits, he had as many civil and respectful answers, leaving -his questioners as ignorant as they were before. At length, however, -the curiosity of the village triumphed. A young rogue, more cautious -and cunning than the rest, ascertained what were his employments, and -smiled at the great consternation caused by the discovery. He adorned -his tale with all the poetry of his rough fancy, and so interwove it -with marvels and falsehoods that it gave ample proof that he would have -made a much better alchemist than Felix. His story fully realized the -imaginings of the wildest magician, and soon succeeded in persuading -the villagers that Deford was the absolute controller of spirits, -and the unlimited master of demons. As a dealer in forbidden things, -he was now still more carefully avoided. Had Felix here thrown away -his honesty, for he began to feel the undeserved reputation he was -acquiring, and issued from his cloister publicly to practice his -incantations, he could have performed wonders before the eyes of the -villagers not surpassed in splendor by any accredited to his masters: -but he preferred to continue his studies and his conjurations as if -unconscious of the opinions entertained concerning him. This only had -the effect of increasing the consternation of the villagers still -more. His name at once became an object of dread to the credulous, and -a subject of terror to the old women, who soon made it the fright of -the nursery. Recollections of old and marvelous stories were rapidly -revived, and for some time nothing seemed to be known or talked of -in the village but terrible tales. There was scarcely a man or woman -to be found who had not recently seen a ghost or been troubled by -some fearful spectre, for all which Felix had to bear the blame. -Amongst these, the most conspicuous was the sharp-visaged old maid, -who now saw more ghosts and phantoms than there had been Gods in the -heathen Pantheons, and pointed to this fact as a full and triumphant -verification of the opinions she had first expressed concerning him. -To billet an army upon a town is always attended with great confusion, -and necessarily with no little terror; but she accused him of something -more awful still. She unhesitatingly affirmed that he had filled the -village with spirits and devils, to trouble the repose of its people; -but an incredulous fellow, perhaps moved by a malicious disposition, -insisted that such could not possibly have been the case, otherwise she -could not have been secure for a single moment. No nook or corner could -be found where ghost or goblin had not been. The street had become -the dancing ground of the tenants of darkness, and the limits of the -village the general theatre for their sports and evil practices, and -all through the incantations of the conjuror. Every bare spot which -had refused to yield as abundantly as its neighbor, brought a curse -upon poor Felix; every strange mark discovered was regarded as a sure -indication of superhuman agency, and every odd foot-print afforded a -monstrous theme for conjecture. Singular noises began to be heard in -the air: some exulting and merry--others plaintive and melancholy. -Confusion seized the cattle, the horses became as stubborn as the -women, the dogs kept up a continual howl and fight, and night was -rendered hideous by caterwauls. The pigs and chickens were no less -rebellious, the noisy fowls became more noisy and restless, and the -barn yards resembled perfect Babels. The crow of the cock was no longer -the morning signal of the approach of day, for it was heard at all -hours of the night. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down, -or tossed about by some miraculous and fearful power. It is supposed -that the land inhabited by spirits is pleasant and enchanting, that -fairies and genii seek none but the abodes of beauty, but here all was -dismay. It was not strange that the majority of the villagers should -have been made afraid to venture out of doors after the decline of the -sun; yet notwithstanding all this, Felix had a few defenders. Though -none could deny the evidences of tumult existing, these assigned quite -a different cause for the fact. Make a village mad, said they, drive -all the good sense out of the heads of its women and substitute fear, -spread consternation amongst the children and discord amongst the men, -and it would be truly miraculous if matters followed their usually -peaceful routine. The brute will partake of the turbulent humors of its -master, and when constantly disturbed by surrounding dismay, cannot -avoid becoming infected with the general confusion. - -Felix, at last, began to fear the mischief he had unintentionally been -creating, and sallied forth once a day with the view of allaying it. -As secresy was no longer possible, he endeavored to become as sociable -and communicative as circumstances would permit, but the villagers -generally shunned him as though he had been a pestilence. A few only -could tolerate his presence and submit to his conversations, and these -had to encounter the censure of being leagued with him. An evil motive -and wicked intention was now ascribed to every trifling thing he did, -and all his attempts to commingle sociably with the villagers were -quickly attributed to some base design. It is strange how error leads -us to phrensy, but such appears to be its very nature. When once it -has taken root, it spreads and increases with unaccountable rapidity. -With not one half the beauty and attraction of truth and reason; it -yet seems to possess a hundred times their power and influence over -our conduct. Truth moves with slow and certain tread--error with -fearful impetuosity. A town once set in motion the wrong way, presents -a terrific spectacle, and to arrest its career of madness is a task -not easily performed. It had been so in the case of Felix Deford, -and he soon ascertained that it was much less difficult to create a -turbulent storm than to allay it. The villagers became lavish in -threats and curses against him; yet, mistrusting and doubting, their -fears compelled them to act with caution. Repeated deputations were -sent to him, politely requesting him to retire from the village, lest -his personal safety might be endangered. His efforts to remove their -delusion proved unavailing, and they continued to insist until he -dismissed them, no less impatient at their importunities than they had -been apprehensive of his residence amongst them. - -Whilst they had been thus engaged in devising means for the -expatriation of Felix, a danger more immediately threatening called -for their undivided attention. Though it had been supposed they were -entirely safe from Indian incursions, they noticed several suspicious -signs and indications which induced them to prepare for an attack. -The friendly feeling that had existed between the villagers and the -savages in their immediate vicinity, had not deterred other tribes from -ravaging wherever opportunities were presented. In this new difficulty, -the alchemist nobly volunteered his assistance. Without waiting for -such a call, he assumed the command as one familiar with the practices -and habits of the savage, and who had frequently been engaged in -similar skirmishes. As was apprehended, the war-whoop was suddenly -heard early one morning, and fully indicated the desperate encounter -to be expected. The attack was commenced with a fury common to Indian -warfare, and it was mainly through the vigilance of the magician -that the contest resulted in the total rout of the savages. All were -compelled to be lavish in their praises of his services, but even -the marvellous exploits which they ascribed to him could not inspire -confidence and friendship. They were simply regarded as convincing -proof of the exercise of forbidden power. Upon being rehearsed again -and again, no little magnified at each repetition, few were willing to -believe that he could have escaped unless protected by some superhuman -agency. Some had even seen strange figures hovering above his head and -arresting the many and repeated blows aimed at him. Others had seen him -surrounded by more than thirty savages at a time, yet none of these -could so closely approach him as to use any weapon. He appeared to be -encompassed by a mystic circle which no one could enter, thus enabling -him to deal destruction around, whilst his assailants were rendered -harmless. When tired of the slaughter in one section of the village, he -almost imperceptibly rose above the heads of friends and foes, and was -quickly transported to another that demanded his aid. Others, still, -had seen him rush wildly into the very midst of savage groups, and -rescue a number of brave villagers who had been defending themselves -against great odds, and so confusing the assailants that they even -fell upon themselves to hurry their retreat. The more marvellous his -exploits, the more did the villagers regret that he lived amongst -them, for he might eventually prove more dangerous than the savages -themselves, and how could they resist him? - -Felix, however, was not disposed to be an object of dread to the -villagers any longer. A few days after the incursion of the Indians, -he was no more to be seen. To account for his sudden disappearance, it -was alleged that he had followed the savages, and would continue to -pursue them until their tribe was totally extinct. He was to become -their evil spirit, who would enter into their midst and slaughter as -he pleased, whilst their arms should be unavailing against him. This -opinion obtained almost general consent as the most plausible, after a -careful and cautious examination of his late residence had been made. -Nothing was there to be found or seen save the black circle upon the -floor, which, to the great astonishment of all, resisted every effort -made to erase it. The walls were now more clear and clean than ever, -and retained no traces of the mysterious devices that had formerly -ornamented them. The entire building appeared as though it had been -fitted up for the reception of some fastidious tenant. All this, in the -opinion of the villagers, had been the undoubted work of the spirits -which they supposed the conjuror had under his command, and which would -aid him in his avenging mission. - -Their surmises were destined to be materially changed upon the arrival -of one of the villagers who had been absent for several months upon -public business. He was one of the principal men of the village, which -important distinction he had won more through the interest he had -manifested against Felix than any excellent qualities of his own. True, -there was a little of the German’s good nature in his composition, -and he had a great love for all that was wonderful and mysterious. -He heard with astonishment the details of the villagers--how they -had been attacked during his absence, and how Felix had assisted -them, and then suddenly departed, as they supposed, to take vengeance -upon the savages. In return, he had something interesting to relate, -which soon undeceived them. Whilst wending his solitary way towards -the village, he reported, night had overtaken him, and having been -still a considerable distance off, he kindled a fire upon the banks -of the river, intending to repose until morning. Sometime during -the night he was aroused from his quiet slumber, and looking round, -he beheld a bright, blazing light in the air, high above the water. -To his utter amazement, there was Felix Deford in the blaze! He was -vehemently remonstrating with a figure so closely arrayed in black -that its outlines could not be distinctly traced. The discussion -continued sharply for some time. Although circumstances sufficiently -indicated that Felix was in the presence of a superior, his spirit was -unconquerable, and he ever seemed the victor in the wordy conflict, -as the villager inferred from the manner of his antagonist. The black -figure continued to become more terrible at every word, and at last -began emitting foam from its mouth and fire from its nostrils, but -Felix refused to abate the least in his remonstrances. A different -encounter now commenced between them, which promised to be more -decisive than words. The blaze that enveloped them began to spread -and heave as though it partook of the anger of the combatants, much -resembling huge and boisterous billows when dashed into spray in quick -succession against an irresistible rock. It seemed to have been caught -up in a terrible tempest, and amid its turbulent agitation, the contest -between Felix and his antagonist was continued by rapidly hurling -large black darts at each other. No want of skilful aim was exhibited, -yet each appeared to be composed of an impenetrable substance, and -the destructive missiles no sooner touched the person of either than -they rebounded again, or flew off at angles, and vanished into air. -Abandoning these apparently inefficient instruments, they approached, -and engaged hand to hand with fiery swords; but so equally were they -matched in this mode of warfare that they only exhausted themselves, -and after making a number of furious, but ineffectual blows and -thrusts, they threw away their weapons. Panting from the exertion of -the desperate battle, they stood for some time gazing intently at -each other, exhibiting a fearful and unearthly savageness. At length -the contest was again resumed, and huge bolts, whose dark-blue color -contrasted beautifully with the glare that surrounded them, were thrown -with marvellous dexterity, but they were as vigilantly and skilfully -parried or avoided. It was now as difficult to be true to their aim as -it had been easy before, plainly indicating that a blow from the bolt -was held in different esteem than a stroke from the darts previously -used. Suddenly Felix sprang with a savage leap upon his antagonist, -having at the same moment been struck by one of these monstrous -missiles, when instantly the flame disappeared, and both fell rapidly -down into the water. Nothing was now heard but the rushing of the -current, which seemed to have become more boisterous, and the villager -composed himself to sleep again. - -He awoke in the morning, and directing his eyes over the body of the -water, he beheld rapid currents from all sides, rushing towards the -spot where the combatants had fallen. The object was strange to -him, and he entered his light canoe determined to investigate it. -Fortunately for his curiosity, before he reached the ungovernable -current, he saw the trunk of a large tree floating down the river. -It was drawn towards the arena that had attracted his attention, and -rapidly approaching the centre, it was whirled round and round, tearing -up the water as if laboring in a mighty whirlwind, or grappling to be -freed from the clutch of a fearful monster. Its terrible struggles were -unavailing, and by a powerful effort, as though the might of the waters -had been concentrated upon one object, it was raised on end, when down, -down it passed from sight. This new wonder was scarcely less surprising -to the villager than the occurrences he had witnessed during the night, -and guarding his fragile bark he for some time watched the raging -element. Every thing that came within reach of the current, which had -formed itself into a great funnel, was dragged down its voracious -centre, however awful or prolonged its struggles. What became of it -afterwards ever remained a close and impenetrable mystery. - -After this astonishing report had been heard and fully commented -upon by the villagers, all other surmises in reference to Felix were -abandoned, and many visited the place where he had fought his last -battle. There was none now to be found amongst them who had no regrets -for the poor alchemist. Although he had been an object of fear to them -whilst seen in their midst, he had rendered services too important when -the village had been assailed by the savages, not to have secured the -good wishes of all; and if they had so heartily desired him to remove -his abode elsewhere, they as fervently wished prosperity to attend him. -Even the sharp-visaged old maid, who had before so repeatedly expressed -her ill opinion of him, now exhibited her gratitude. During the assault -of the Indians, she affirmed, he had twice rescued her from the -tomahawk of the savages just in time to prevent the blows that would -certainly have terminated her existence. With all her want of charity -and magnanimity, there was still the sweet tenderness of woman in her -nature, and she could not restrain her lamentations and her tears. - -For a long, long time, the story of Felix continued to be the village -talk. The strange disposition of the waters that commemorated his last -exploit, acquired the name of the “Magic Funnel” from the villagers, -and whatever was drawn into it was engulfed forever. Its end or -termination remained unknown. It was a suggestion of some of the more -philosophic villagers, that the immense currents which then fed it may -have entered again into the body of the river at a distance of many -miles, or have had a number of outlets so small that none would have -thought of tracing them to their original source. Whatever of truth or -error there may have been in these and kindred surmises, it is said, -as a truth which was never doubted by the villagers, that the poor and -ill-fated alchemist makes a circuit every year, entering the “Magic -Funnel” again, together with his antagonist. On every anniversary of -his fearful encounter, the singular flame may be seen again in the air, -with a renewal of the battle. Often these waters lash each other as -if in great trouble, and it has passed into a traditional saying with -the sturdy watermen of the Susquehanna, whenever they see them surge -and foam with unusual impetuosity, that the conjuror and his powerful -adversary are at each other again, interchanging their terrible frowns -and hurling their fearful bolts. The humble boatman, as he cautiously -moves by this mysterious place, now far less dangerous than many years -ago, with his fragile skiff or light canoe, still gives a sighing -thought to the memory of the conjuror, and not unfrequently sings a -doleful requiem over the fate of the Village Alchemist. - - H. C. - - - - -REMARKS, - -INTENDED TO PRECEDE THE FOLLOWING ESSAY. - - -“If, in the paper herewith submitted, there may be any confusion, or -supposed misapplication of terms, we claim our privilege. In old time, -those who excelled in the sciences were called _Sages_, which was -equivalent to our _learned_. This pedantic appellation, however, could -not be tolerated by the modest Pythagoras, who, being merely an anxious -searcher after knowledge, refused to arrogate to himself its actual -possession, and therefore assumed the title of _Philosopher_, or _Lover -of Wisdom_. He deserves immortal honor for this happy application of -the word, yet we are not quite sure that he would have used it at all -had he foreseen the consequences to which it has led. Ever since his -day, it has become the custom to look upon all whose wild fancies -are inexplicable, as “Philosophers;” and whenever a confused mass of -nonsense is collected together, so heterogeneous that human ingenuity -is at a loss to classify it, it is generally dubbed “Philosophy.” -Whatever of incongruity, confusion, or misapplication may be detected -in our essay, must, therefore, under the most approved customs of the -times, be regarded as wonderfully philosophic, and being thus converted -into a merit, we need add nothing in extenuation.”[2] - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[2] NOTE.--The above introductory remarks, together with the paper -which they accompanied, were read before the Association as the report -of a Committee.--EDITOR. - - - - -AN ESSAY. - -THE BEAUTY OF A WELL CULTIVATED HEART. - - -However high and exalted the achievements of mind, and whatever -the pleasures and consolations of knowledge, these are small when -contrasted with the beauties of a well-cultivated heart. The grand -attainments of talent and genius, exhibiting man’s lofty superiority -over all animated existence, may attract our admiration and elicit -our surprise, but the manifestation of those noble qualities which we -ascribe to the heart, alone can make us feel. Mind only appeals to -mind: heart alone to heart. - -“Knowledge is wealth,” was a favorite and perhaps somewhat egotistical -saying of the ancient philosophers, and, indeed, without it man would -be a most pitiable creature. It is a maxim ascribed to Zoroaster, that -“he who lives in ignorance knoweth neither God nor religion,” and -Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece, and founder of the Ionic -sect, calls him “who enjoys good health, finds fortune favorable, -and has well cultivated his soul with sound learning,” the happy -man. Without mental culture, we cannot appreciate the treasures of -nature, and unless we have a knowledge of its laws, obtained through -a study of the sciences, we cannot realize the comforts with which it -is arrayed for the benefit of mankind. Even the merciful government -of God is rendered one of terror and fear through ignorance, whilst -the intercourse with our fellows so essential to social happiness, is -restrained within the most narrow bounds, and we remain little better -than barbarians. The Mitylenians esteemed ignorance of the liberal -arts a deplorable punishment, and thus, when masters of the sea, they -prohibited the revolted allies from teaching their children letters or -music, as the most grievous penalty they could possibly inflict. - -The affections, and those virtues which signally reach them, we have -for ages been accustomed to place to the heart’s account. We yield to -it all the virtues of sensibility, and thus it becomes the great source -and centre of feeling. To it we ascribe that generous commiseration -and sympathy which constitute the pillars of society, and which have -long since confirmed the declaration of the great Roman orator, that -no nation has ever existed where civility, good nature, and gratitude, -were not had in esteem, and where the proud, the mischievous, the -cruel, and ungrateful, were not had in contempt and abhorrence. Wisdom -may flatter our self-love, and as it advances, justly challenge our -respect, but we fail to see in it the power or the pleasure which is -inseparable from the heart’s good sentiments. “It is to no purpose to -be wise, unless we are rendered better,” truly observes Lucian. Life -is made a blessing, not through the influence of mind, however much it -may have done to surround us with the means of comfort and enjoyment, -but through the great excellencies of man’s nature. It is a law of -nature, as we are told by the most eminent moralists, that each should -cultivate an agreeable sociability as the best means of promoting the -end for which human society has been instituted. This can never be -successfully done without the virtues of the heart--such as friendship -and love, and above and including all, CHARITY. - -The pleasure of man’s intercourse with his fellows depends principally -upon the virtues that adorn him. The wise, if arrogant, vain, and -ungrateful, may only succeed in awakening within the good feelings of -mingled respect and contempt; whilst the generous, the humble, the -just, will ever elicit universal esteem. We rely upon their gratitude -and confide in their friendship, realizing the happiness of their -guileless sincerity and truth. Without friendship, life would be a -gift which we might well despise. “By what other means,” asks Seneca, -“are we preserved, but by the mutual assistance of good turns?” It -is this generous virtue, springing from the heart, that renders our -associations agreeable, and throws around our existence the joys and -pleasures of social life. “If any man,” says Xenophon, “a lover of -virtue, ever found a more profitable companion than Socrates, I deem -that man the happiest of human kind.” This celebrated ancient general -and scholar, in thus speaking of his friend, utters but a truthful -tribute to the virtue of friendship, as exemplified in the life of -every honest man. - -The man who has well improved his heart becomes a fit companion for -all, whatever may be their condition. He views the actions of men -through the medium of his generous virtues, rather than through that -rigid severity which accompanies an unforgiving temper. His noble -charity recognizes a universal equality, and whilst he bears with -the errors and follies of those around him, he seeks to remove them -by generous appeals to the heart rather than by censure and rough -rebuke. He remembers that the tender entreaties of his mother, and -the lamentations of his wife and children, prevented Coriolanus -from destroying the Rome that had formerly banished him, and not the -fear of the Romans nor their tempting overtures; and that afterwards -the moderation of Valerius Corvus, the Dictator, quelled a dangerous -mutiny, and accomplished, perhaps a similar end. He is not prone to -look upon every error as a serious crime to be resented, but prefers to -act upon the magnanimous dictum accredited to the Chinese philosophers, -who “reckoned it a true mark of a brave, and wise, and worthy man, to -put up the hurts and affronts he received, without any inclination to -harm the author.” When it becomes necessary to punish a villain, he -prefers the example of Pericles, if circumstances allow it, who, it -is said, endured the ribaldry of a rogue for an entire day, without -exhibiting anger, and then commanded a servant to light him home with -the torch: thus, perhaps, taking the most signal vengeance possible, -for none can patiently bear such generosity and silence from him whom -he hates, and with whom he desires to quarrel. In the wide range of -human blessings there is none to equal those generous impulses which -govern the conduct of such a man. They enable him truly to fulfil -the destiny of his affections, in whatever station he may be called, -despite the circumstances calculated to arouse his passions and excite -the evil elements in his nature. - -They who have well cultivated the heart’s true sensibilities, find the -means and sources of enjoyment spread lavishly around them. The fickle -and whimsical pursuits after momentary pleasure, which vex and perplex -so many, never disturb their quiet nor encumber their repose. The -happiness that attends them is unalloyed, not subject to the regrets -of disappointment, nor the frequent remorse which preys upon the mind -of him who had haunted the glittering pleasures of animal life and its -enticing enjoyments. They feel the full gratification of the inward -sense, which is sincere, penetrating, and permanent. The store upon -which they draw is exhaustless. Other elements of nature may perish by -too frequent use, but the sensibilities of the heart only increase in -strength and vigor through every occasion that calls them forth, and -expand the more the more they are exercised. It is use that preserves -them: slothfulness is their great and formidable enemy. “All virtues,” -says an ancient Grecian philosopher, “depend upon exercise and use; to -preserve them, we must practice them.” - -The career of man often presents melancholy illustrations of the want -of this true sensibility. The aims of life, too frequently governed -by the arbitrary decrees of society, lead him into paths that rather -blunt than encourage it; and he finds little substantial pleasure in -fulfilling a destiny which circumstances have forced upon him against -the better qualities of his nature. Fortune may have smiled upon him, -enriching him with her bounties, yet these, if simply depending upon -themselves, soon sicken and lose their interest. The riches of the soul -can only be enjoyed through the sensibilities of the heart, which lead -us to the performance of deeds of truth and charity. They alone can -enable us to discharge the mission of sympathy and love towards the -unfortunate and distressed; they alone can qualify us for generous and -magnanimous intercourse with those whose evil destiny deserves our kind -indulgence, and fit us for more exalted association with equals and -superiors; they alone can develope the good germs in our nature into -exceeding excellencies, and lead us to true virtue and its exhaustless -treasures; and they alone can make the journey of life resemble a -smooth and even surface, and surround us with pleasures and comforts -which the insensible may never know. How much, then, is it our duty to -cultivate the heart through the exercise of its sensibilities, and thus -obtain the full gratification of every virtuous faculty in our nature! -How much, then, does it behoove each of us to conquer the sordid and -selfish motives too frequently engendered by surrounding influences, -and bring into more healthful existence those noble affections with -which we are endowed! Thus alone can we truly live in mind and heart, -and effect a happy harmony between soul and body--no longer verifying -the saying of Theophrastus, that the former pays large rent to the -latter for its dwelling. - - - - -A PREFACE, - -MADE BY THE SECRETARY. - - -The following paper was read at a full meeting of the Junto, and -listened to with considerable attention: not more than a dozen falling -into a nodding doze during its reading. I was at a loss to account -for this interest, not knowing whether to ascribe it to the style -of the composition or to the manner of the reader, who frequently -indicated his delight, though perhaps at the expense of his charity, -by his insinuating emphasis of particular sentences. To be relieved -of my perplexity, I addressed the inquiry to a gentleman seated near -me, upon whose face I noticed a savage scowl, which had probably been -occasioned by his having heard too accurate a description of his own -character. Turning towards me, perhaps with the view of ascertaining -whether there was not a double meaning in my query, he gruffly replied: -“Neither style nor manner; but scandal, to be sure: the drowsiest cur -will prick its ears at scandal--the sluggard, be he never so sluggish, -never gapes when furnished with a dish well seasoned with its venom.” -That he was correct in this, I shall not here venture to record an -opinion; but certain it is, that at the conclusion he was the loudest -in applause of Peter’s dream, and the first to declare that “it was not -all a dream.” Notwithstanding this emphatic declaration, however, it -was soon ascertained, upon questioning the gentleman who had introduced -the paper, that it was, of a verity, what it purported to be. He had -received the manuscript of a friend, who had heard every incident -therein related from Peter Easy himself, and could not be mistaken. -This seemed to satisfy the curiosity of each, and it was therefore -generously decreed that the “Dream of a Loafer” should be allowed a -place amongst the records of the Association. - - S----Y. - - - - -THE DREAM OF A LOAFER. - - -It has often been matter of surprise to me, that the important and -truly philosophic individual upon whom the community has generously -conferred the title of “loafer,” should frequently be so little -appreciated as to receive no higher encomiums than such as he may be -able to extract from a laugh or a sneer. His title is certainly one of -dignity and distinction, and although many efforts have heretofore been -made to change it, and substitute the more refined and aristocratic -appellation of “gentleman of leisure,” he has ever, and very properly, -in my opinion, indignantly resisted such invidious encroachments upon -it. He has thoroughly examined its derivation, and fully investigated -its import, with all of which he has no reason to find fault, and -therefore remains perfectly content. - -That the loafer is a meritorious personage, one fact alone should be -sufficient to satisfy the most doubting: he is always emphatically -a “self-made” man. By carefully studying excellent examples, which -have been increasing ever since the world began, and to which we are -promised many more bright additions, he seldom fails to attain a -great degree of perfection. Unfortunately, our civilization prevents -him from securing that renown to which he is fully able to establish -a just claim, and which had generally been freely granted to his -first predecessors. Should he presume to live, as it is reported of -our primitive ancestors, upon husks and acorns, we would quickly -pronounce him a madman, if for no other reason than because this would -demonstrate that he differed from us in taste, or was blessed with a -better organ of digestion! Should he diet upon raw beef, employ his -naked fingers and the hollow of his hand in preference to the many -table articles invented for our convenience, and now constantly used, -we would soon think it an act of charity to confine him in some lunatic -asylum, instead of immortalizing him as a philosopher! Civilization, -so much admired for the many comforts it has brought with it, has thus -resulted much more to his injury than benefit. If the dial of time -was set back some two or three thousand years, he is perhaps the -only one who would not lose by the change. In truth, civilization -and enlightenment, though he does not deny that they have greatly -benefitted others, are his most formidable enemies. It will therefore -be seen how unreasonable and ungenerous are those who condemn him for -doing nothing to advance either. These elements of modern society have -been the great cause of inducing many to doubt his usefulness, whilst -they have even impelled some seriously to question the necessity of -his existence. In proof of this, I may here state, that I once had a -very inquisitive and philosophic friend, now for several years gathered -to his fathers, whose death, it is said, was occasioned by too close -mental application in efforts to ascertain the usefulness and necessity -of a well-known micher, who was constantly to be seen at the village -tavern. Such, I have been assured, was the precise statement of his -physician, who likewise added, that he might perhaps have survived, -but for the many perplexing difficulties suggested to his mind by -the old command of the apostle, “that if any would not work, neither -should he eat.” This entire statement, however, was much questioned; -but then, those who doubted it, invariably remarked that the doctor, -having so well doctored my friend that he quickly died, had less -regard for the truth than solicitude for his professional skill. -This involves the whole matter in uncertainty, where I must leave it, -not because I belong to the school of the Pyrrhonists, those lying -doubters of old, but simply because the subject is too intricate, and -might perhaps prove as fatal to me as the one before alluded to did -to my worthy friend. Whatever may have been the cause of my friend’s -death, we must feel sorry that, if he was engaged upon so serviceable -a work, he was not permitted to complete it and present the result -of his labors to the world. The information might have proved of -considerable benefit to the philosophically inclined. Indeed, if he -had removed all possible doubt of the usefulness of such individuals, -and shown the real necessity of their existence in our society, a very -difficult problem, I must own, would have been solved. Such a favorable -solution, too, would have afforded much consolation to all of that -class, and might even have caused a great increase of their number. Of -one thing, at least, I am certain: it would have confirmed still more, -if such a thing be possible, the habits of an acquaintance of mine, -who resides in the same village with me. He is known to the villagers -by the designation of Easy Peter, but always writes his name, whenever -you can induce him to perform so much manual labor, PETER EASY. He is -descended from a family whose lineage has been traced to the Welsh and -Germans, of which stocks he is extremely fond of boasting. This, to me, -seems simply to illustrate an excellent trait in his character, for it -exhibits the respect he entertains for his forefathers. Some of the -villagers, however, ascribe his boasts to vanity; declaring that he is -as vain as a woman, and that if mythology had no Narcissus, he would -furnish it with an excellent one. That these are much out in their -reckoning, I am well persuaded; for should he become so enchanted with -the loveliness of his figure as to languish to death at the fountain in -which it might be reflected, they would be the first to attribute his -demise to sheer laziness,--a disease, which, fortunately, is not very -fatal, otherwise epidemics would never cease in the world. - -Easy Peter may at all times be seen in our village. If he is not -found at the old log tavern at its eastern end, you are certain to -meet him at the tobacco house at its western extremity, where two -smoky youths have for several years been engaged in “rolling up” -the weed into form for the enjoyment of its devotees. I believe it -is the universal experience that all of Peter’s excellent habits -possess a great proclivity for places of this kind. Whether this may -be owing to a desire for idle associations, or simply to a love of -the articles retailed there, I am not well qualified to decide; but -whatever may be the cause operating upon Peter, he has a peculiar -affinity for these two places in our village, at which his enthusiasm -and verbosity frequently amuse and occasionally astonish his auditors. -It is true, no one seriously apprehends that any modern Festus will -ever impatiently accuse him of being made mad by “much learning,” -however prolific he may be in his speeches. He is in no such danger, -nor is it probable that he will ever earn the reputation of being wise -simply through being boisterous, although many have done so before -him. Always referring to the generous liberality ascribed to Socrates -as an illustration how men should use their knowledge, he even seeks -to surpass this much renowned ancient philosopher, whom he recognizes -as his worthy model, in the lavishness with which he dispenses -whatever he may happen to know. This, it must be acknowledged, is not -so exceedingly much; but then he always mixes it with a marvellous -amount of useless verbiage, principally drawn from his imagination -and his dreams. Herein, it will readily be conceded, he is not at all -singular, and only plays a part for which the times furnish innumerable -examples. The inhabitants of the village are all perfectly acquainted -with him and his habits, and he has therefore long since ceased to -disturb them, not from any reasons of his own, but simply because -they have learned not to heed him. It so happens, however, that we -are not unfrequently visited by strangers, and these invariably stare -with amazement whenever they encounter him at either of his favorite -places of resort. It may be supposed that in these magnanimous efforts -to entertain all who can be induced, from curiosity or other motives, -to while away an idle moment with him, he should naturally indulge -in denunciations against the world and its practices. This, I must -confess, is an inference not in the least repugnant to his habits; but -then he never finds fault from the mere pleasure, of doing so, in which -he is so very singular, that I must leave it to others to determine -whether he is in advance of the age or behind it. - -Shortly after the hour of noon, on a certain summer day which will long -be remembered in this locality because of its excessive heat, a young -and sprightly farmer chanced to visit the village. His entrance seemed -to be regarded as an event somewhat remarkable, for so dull was the -season that no strange face had been seen by the villagers for several -weeks. Upon arriving at the tavern, having been curiously stared at -by the occupants of every building he had passed, he encountered -Peter, who immediately entered into heterogeneous conversation, if -that can be called conversation in which the talking is all on one -side. I will here venture the opinion, though cautiously, that it -may, for custom seems to have so decreed, and with few things has -custom had more to do. Having invented no new word fully adequate to -the occasion, and sufficiently expressive, we are led to submit to -its long continued acquiescence in the one now employed. Then, too, -excellent talkers could never consent to change this form of expression -for any other less creditable to themselves, and the good listener -may find sufficient to reconcile himself to it in the remark of old -Simonides, who declared that he had frequently repented of having said -too much, but never of having remained silent. Notwithstanding the -apparent determination to exclude the possibility of a stray word from -the new comer, Peter’s conduct had something of novelty in it to the -stranger which at once induced him patiently to listen. Of course, this -attention was highly pleasing to the talker, for several weeks had -been a very long period for him to remain, on account of the dullness -of the season, in that silence to which the villagers had doomed him -by common consent, under the impression that time spent with him was -unprofitably and irretrievably cast away. When, therefore, he was -invited by the young man to a seat in his conveyance, Peter had no -hesitancy in accepting, and not until they had left the village several -miles behind, did he ascertain that the stranger had no intention of -returning to it again. He now first bethought himself of the ridiculous -blunder he had made in not having informed himself of this fact before. -In this sad plight, very sad indeed to him, he slowly dismounted from -the vehicle, and commenced pondering upon the best means to get back -again to the tavern he had so incautiously left at the bidding of the -stranger. To walk so great a distance he would at any time have looked -upon as an exceedingly laborious task, but in the awful heat of that -day the idea was too terrible to be entertained. At length he concluded -to trust to his luck, which had sometimes favored him, although he -had frequently complained of its hard decrees, thinking that chance -might perhaps send some conveyance that way, through which he could -return to the village. I should be greatly gratified to be able to -say, that in Peter Easy I had found the man who never lamented over -his fate, and who never affirmed that he was the “unluckiest fellow -in the world;” but I cannot claim the credit of having made so happy -a discovery. Whether that fortunate individual has ever set a foot of -real flesh and bone upon earthly soil, is most extremely doubtful; -yet all will confide in their better destiny, as did Peter in the -present instance, though the certainty of disappointment may seem to -stare them in the face. Cheered by so comfortable a hope, he seated -himself by the roadside, beneath the shady branches of a ponderous -tree, and not feeling just then like the young lady who always “dreaded -to retire to bed because she could not talk in her sleep,” he was -soon lazily spread out full length upon the sod. He had not been long -in this posture, before he found gradually stealing over him a dull -and oppressive stupor, which may have owed its origin to a hearty and -undigested dinner, for in his case the saying of the wise man did -not yet apply--“slothfulness casteth into a deep sleep, and an idle -soul shall suffer hunger.” Fortunately for him, his father had been a -careful and judicious man, and thus placed him beyond the calamity of -the latter portion of the proverb, which his habits might otherwise -have reaped; and I much question whether he had ever been so blessed -as to realize the truth of the former by experience. In this state -of unconsciousness, verging unto sleep, he had a dream, which he has -since so often related that it must be very widely known. At least, -such is the inference of the villagers, who suppose that it has been -honored with frequent repetitions by some of the many strangers who -have visited the village since this eventful day in Peter’s life, -none of whom could escape hearing it either in whole or by parcels. I -shall here endeavor to narrate it, though conscious that much of its -effect must necessarily be lost through the absence of his manner and -gestures, which no human skill could transfer upon paper; nor can I -give it precisely in his own words, for reasons which I must withhold, -leaving the reader, however, at liberty to supply such as may best suit -his fancy. - -Easy Peter, not so exceedingly easy at the time, imagined in his dream -that some supernatural power had suddenly seized him. From whence it -had come, he could not divine, but it gradually transported him beyond -the confines of earth into another world. This so much resembled our -own, that had he awoke here, he positively affirms, he should not have -been able to discover the least difference. He was not as fortunate as -the man who “dreamed that there was no credit to be given to dreams;” -and strange enough, in his conscious hours, he defends this fanciful -excursion of his momentary slumber as a substantial truth. It has been -so effectually impressed upon his mind, that he speaks of it, not as -the deceptive experience of a dream, but as a real adventure. The -first thing that attracted his attention in this new sphere, was the -variety of employments at which he found the people engaged. A French -philosopher declares, that they are mean souls who are so buried in -business as not to know that the most glorious and principal work of -man is to live well; and as Peter gazed upon the continual efforts and -ceaseless struggles here exhibited, he could not refrain from indulging -in somewhat similar reflections. Scarcely an occasional pause was to -be observed in the general commotion, so intent did each appear upon -some object that hurried him on.--Amongst these eager scramblers, -running to and fro in hot haste, chasing every chimera supposed to -hold out a promise, Peter’s eyes detected one who at once claimed his -entire attention. He was as ugly as a Theban sphynx, lean and lank, -his very gait giving evidence of his cunning and treachery, whilst -his countenance, if it mirrored what was passing in the soul, plainly -cried out, “Money, money! at whatever cost or consequence, I must -have money!” A worthy illustration of the heartless miser, who seeks -for nothing but the gratification of his insatiable desire, he never -hesitated to inflict a wrong, or crush a soul, to obtain possession -of a shilling. The French Vandille, to save the extra expense of -three bleedings at three pence each, let out the four and twenty -ounces of blood at a single operation, thus purchasing his death at a -sixpence--certainly a very cheap transaction. He had his counterpart -in this avaricious wretch, who, Peter positively affirms, would have -added another four and twenty ounces for the gratification of feasting -his eyes upon the glitter of a shekel. “Had he lived,” said a stranger, -“in the days of Eumolpus, he would have been an excellent subject for -remembrance in the will of that whimsical fellow, who ordered that -all to whom he gave legacies, besides his children, should receive -them upon condition that they cut up his body and eat it before the -people.” “Many,” replied Peter, “have waded through disgust to wealth; -and for a trifle, he would never have paused until he had munched it -up entirely.” His miserly propensities urged him to the violation of -every principle, the sacrifice of every virtue that happened to come -in contact with them; and thus he pursued his daily course, still -adding to his store as he lost of his manhood. How very ridiculous it -is, thought Peter in his dream, that men will grasp and grasp without -stopping to ask a question, and thereby only increase the certainty -of being eventually grasped themselves, by most unwelcome clutches, -without being allowed the time to answer any. - -Turning from this wretched specimen of humanity, Peter recognised -another who was no less busy, and who seemed as ambitious as Phæton -or Icarus, determined to set the world in a blaze, or what appeared -more likely to happen, break his own neck in his aspiring flights. He -knew of no medium by which to be controlled, and would even have found -pleasure in the reputation of being a fool; but, unfortunately, Hobbes -spoke truth when he said, that “without learning it is impossible for -any man to be either excellently wise or excellently foolish.” Herein -he was deficient, and the “number of common fools far exceeding that of -wise men,” as a German author observes, they were rendered so general -and were so frequently encountered that even this prospect of securing -celebrity promised him nothing. Moved by his “wild distemper” he forgot -the realities by which he was surrounded, and in his impetuosity to -climb up the crooked ladder of distinction, he was hurried to the most -extravagant excesses. Erostratus, to obtain renown, fired the temple -of Diana, but the Ephesians, to bury his memory in eternal oblivion, -prohibited the mention of his name under the penalty of death. This -individual, if not yet driven to such extremities to gratify his -passion, could nevertheless foresee, in the satiric ridicule certain to -follow his mad endeavors, sufficient cause to “go and hang himself out -of sheer mortification.” Such, thought Peter, not unfrequently, is the -melancholy end of the zealot, when his zeal triumphs over his judgment -and dethrones his reason. - -As he was watching the manœuvres and expedients of this not uncommon -character, a party of gentlemen suddenly intervened between his vision -and the subject of his gaze. They were all so exceedingly merry that -Peter felt anxious to join in their sport, and declares that he should -have done so had he not been deterred by seeing one of them slyly and -skilfully sliding his hands into the pockets of another, where, he -quite reasonably supposed, it had no business. This was an exploit the -like of which he had never witnessed before; but having frequently -heard of the practices of a learned profession, he immediately -concluded that this cunning villain was a lawyer, so prone are we to -form opinions from general reputation. He soon after discovered his -error, however, for the loud “hue and cry” that met his ears, very -distinctly informed him that upon this world there were pocket pickers -and robbers as well as upon our own, showing that we cannot claim these -blessings as belonging exclusively to us. Inference, thought Peter, is -a very uncertain thing, as often unjust as it is mistaken, and he asked -of himself whether it had ever assigned to him a place in the category -of rogues. Of this he might have been satisfied, for it has not yet -been shown that any has ever escaped such imputations, and we can only -be surprised that so many are foolish enough to manifest doubtful -anxiety in a matter of which each may be so certain. - -Another, who was hurrying along with all possible speed, and whose -wild appearance seemed to attract general notice, now claimed Peter’s -attention. Not in the least regarding his late experience, he at once -concluded that this was a madman, in which he was again partially -mistaken. Following after, it was not long before he discovered him -to be an eminent physician, visiting a patient to whom he had the day -before administered a dose, and who was now in his last agonies. “A -wretched, bungling quack! a quack, sir,” exclaimed a young physician, -who became irritated at our dreamer as he was declaiming upon this -portion of his dream. “Perhaps,” replied a stranger, “the people of -that sphere are stupid enough to follow the practice that caused the -uncivil jest of Fabius of Bentivoglio, who, on his way to manufacture a -doctor, by chance espied an ass yawning with open mouth as if he were -laughing. To whom, ‘why laugh you,’ says Fabius, ‘you silly creature? -we can make you a doctor too, if you have but money.’” However this may -have been, the great haste of the physician was matter of surprise to -Peter, who could not understand why a professor, whose business it was -to assist people to get out of the world with ease, should be so much -concerned for the life of a single patient. His wonder, however, soon -subsided upon being furnished with reason to believe that the man of -medicine was a more careful student of the Talmud and the Rabbins than -of his profession, and that he had not been running for the good of the -sick, but for his own fee, which was of infinitely greater importance. -Many a one, thought Peter, is rendering service to the devil, even -at the very time that we may think him engaged in works of superior -excellence. - -Easy Peter now lost sight of the physician, but his place was filled by -a straight, slender, and serious looking individual, who was holding -forth in a magnificent building, which had evidently been erected with -a due regard to lodging accommodations. It required nothing beyond -what he saw to inform him that this was a preacher in his fashionable -temple. Peter had seen few men, notwithstanding his extensive -intercourse with the world, who had the faculty of assuming so saintly -an appearance as this one, and he therefore determined to follow him -home. The holy man had scarcely descended from the pulpit before Peter -saw an illustration of how much easier it was to preach humility than -to practice it, and felt how few, even of the priesthood, really -understood the saying of the essayist, that “the souls of kings and -cobblers were cast in the same mould.” To show obeisance to the one, -however guilty and degraded by vice he may be, is easy, and honorable, -and an imitation of Jesus: to shake hands with the other, and seek to -reclaim him by magnanimous and friendly fellowship, is countenancing -and encouraging “publicans and sinners.” To greet with the pleasant -social smile, and the exhibition of generous solicitude, the poor and -ragged parishioner, is changing religion into levity, and “walking in -the counsel of the ungodly, and standing in the way of sinners:” to -fawn upon and court the favor and association of the more fortunate -worshipper, who seldom ever rises from his knees until he has planned -some new scheme to play the villain towards his fellow, is “exhorting -one another daily, while it is called to-day,” or taking “sweet counsel -together, and walking unto the house of God in company.” Peter was not -a little surprised, upon reaching the residence of the minister, to -discover how much better he was fitted to declaim upon the beauties of -charity than to practice magnanimity and forbearance in his own house. -This, thought he, is not the only one who, to obtain skill in lecturing -the public, exercises himself at the expense of his family’s comfort -and happiness. - -Peter became interested in the private habits of this reverend -gentleman, and would gladly have remained to ascertain yet more -concerning them, but being unable to direct the course of his dream, -he was unfortunately compelled to follow a melancholy creature who -happened just then to cross his dreamy path. True, he had somewhere -read or heard that melancholy men were naturally endowed with greater -genius than those blessed with more volatile dispositions, and he -therefore expected to gain from this new subject what he had missed by -losing the other. He was led to a large and splendid establishment, -which he regarded as being certainly much better calculated to produce -comfort and happiness than melancholy. He had scarcely entered, before -he heard a harsh, shrill voice re-echoing through the house, and when -the termagant, who seemed to have inherited from nature a perfect right -to its possession, made her appearance, he could not help repeating to -himself the proverb of Solomon, “_It is_ better to dwell in a corner -of the house-top, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.” “What -an excellent Tatianian he would have made,” remarked a pert young lady -of the village, who would sometimes honor Peter with a few moments of -her attention, and to whom the thought of such unfortunate husbands -always afforded matter for merriment. “Why so?” anxiously queried -Peter, who could not fathom her meaning. “Because they maintained that -all, except themselves, were damned through mother Eve, and that women -were made by the devil, to the latter of which tenets your hen-pecked -vision could no doubt have sworn with the strictest of the sect.” -“Notwithstanding such were their origin, we would treasure them,” added -another. “Proving,” replied she, “that the gifts from that quarter are -preferred, and that there is no justice in your complaints when the -penalty is to be paid.” Peter was naturally somewhat sympathetic, and -would gladly have condoled with this melancholy man in his affliction, -but the domestic pest kept too strict a watch to permit it. He -apprehended the consequences likely to follow, should he presume too -much, and therefore wisely concluded not to cause the reigning spirit -of the mansion to “pass still more the equilibrium of her balance.” He -reflected how indiscreet it is to interfere in matters of this kind, -and remembering the advice of the old poet, he thought it judicious not -to disregard it: - - “Have pity on yourself, and, though you’re stout - As mastiff breed, don’t take a bear by th’ snout.” - -As a spectator, Peter Easy would not have objected to remain in this -splendid establishment of domestic misery, with the view of obtaining -some practical knowledge of matrimonial life. He had not ventured -out of single blessedness himself, for which he never gave any other -reason than that he had been predestinated a bachelor. In this he was -believed by many of the villagers, but others continued to maintain -that his single blessedness was simply owing to his aversion to the -trouble necessarily encountered in visiting and courting for a wife. -To this he would only reply, that although he could not, like the old -Thracians and Assyrians, rise from his bed in the morning, attend -the market with his purse, and return in the evening with one of the -fairest and most enchanting maids in the kingdom; nor coolly exchange, -for a lovely and bewitching partner, “one hundred and twenty pounds -of tobacco, cash,” the value of the best article, as was the practice -of his good-natured ancestors, he yet lived in an age affording equal -if not greater matrimonial facilities. “Now,” he would declare, “no -little of the labor of visiting and courting is voluntarily assumed by -the ladies themselves, through ten thousand modest expedients which -their ingenuity has invented; and should this prove insufficient, -why, it is the easiest matter in the world to pick up a wife on any -day of the year upon any highway in the country.” Concluding his -bachelor prejudices to be real, they quite naturally induced him to -believe that in the domestic affairs of this magnificent mansion, he -could see the fruits and consequences of marriage in their true and -proper light. Fortune, however, was inclined to deal more favorably -with him, and his attention was arrested by a handsome young man who -hurried from the building as if anxious to escape the unpleasant sounds -of the voice within. Peter followed him as he walked leisurely and -contentedly along, until he came to his residence, which was a small, -yet handsomely arranged and neatly furnished building. As the young -man opened the door, his pretty young wife was the first to meet and -welcome him with her cheerful countenance and happy smiles, and then -they so lovingly embraced each other, that Peter’s heart, though long -a stranger to such feelings, impulsively began to respond to theirs. -He turned away, perhaps to check its beatings, but now affirms he did -so simply to resolve this astounding mystery; for it was his firm -conviction, based upon his own extensive observation, that marriages -were formed with no other design than that of providing for the parties -a proper and convenient person with whom to fight and quarrel whenever -inclination prompted. “It was well to turn away,” replied the pert -young lady before alluded to, “for your eyes should never be permitted -to feast upon so holy a scene. Like all of your bachelor kin, you -‘are not worthy to see a man first in the morning,’ as the saying of -the Benjins used to have it. The unhappy Dido, who pronounced you a -pack of brutes, spoke only the truth; and you deserve no better fate -than that decreed by the Spartan ruler, who ordained that all of your -species should be excluded from the sports and dances of the women, and -compelled to run up and down the Forum, unclad and freezing, singing -songs in dishonor of themselves.” “Surely,” replied Peter, “rather -than endure so rigorous a discipline or punishment, each of us would -follow Luther’s jest, and carve unto himself an obedient wife out of -a block of stone; or if that would not suffice, perhaps profit by the -example of Henry VIII., and ‘put his neck into the yoke, as the only -remedy,’ though the spouse provided for him should prove to be nothing -but ‘a great Flander’s mare.’” When Peter again looked upon the young -couple, they were comfortably seated together, and both seemed still to -enjoy the “tender caress” just as much as they could have done in their -wooing days; but this was so contrary to his previous observation, -and so conflicted with his theory, that he sadly misinterpreted their -conduct. He had forgotten the advice of a friend who had repeatedly -warned him against indiscriminately venturing opinions upon matters -concerning which he was entirely ignorant, lest he might find frequent -cause to repent of his errors; for should he happen to be right once -in a hundred times, he would certainly be more fortunate than the -rest of mankind generally are. He accordingly gives it as his settled -opinion, that these two visions of his dream were so addicted to such -demonstrations of affection that they could not avoid indulging in -them, nor be very particular towards whom they were exhibited. Such -practices, Peter declares, are so very common; and he even presumes to -account through them for the habits of tenderness which some married -people happen to acquire. He could, therefore, not well decide which -were the most blessed--this apparently well satisfied couple, or the -pair he had seen at the splendid mansion, under the lowering of a -domestic storm. - -When Peter emerged from the cottage, he came into a dreary street, -studded with rows of dilapidated houses on either side, each of which -seemed to give ample evidence of the wretchedness existing within. Here -he encountered three “ministers of mercy,” who visited this locality -on pretence of relieving the wants and distresses of the people. Their -holy mission at once arrested his attention, and claimed his regard. -How happy the influence of charity, reflected he, coming like the sweet -sympathy of angels to bless this suffering community. It was a maxim -of Plato, that the “end and aim of all human actions is some good;” -and in no other channel can more be accomplished than in the one in -which these seemingly worthy men appeared to be engaged. Who can ponder -upon the mission of the noble vivandiere, the providence of the French -soldier, as he sees her following the camp, extending to the weak and -weary, the disabled and fatigued, the hand of help and hospitality, -without feeling how small are all things compared with human sympathy -and love? Her self-sacrificing and sublime benignity,--attending the -rough warrior in his danger, relieving him when in want, aiding him -when in distress, ministering to him in sickness, tenderly raising -him when he falls upon the field of carnage and providing a place of -safety, binding his wounds with her salves, her balsams, and her rolls -of soft linen, and freely sharing her delicacies, her smiles, and her -good wishes,--gives us a foretaste of that eternity of bliss which -shall be the just reward of the good, after a separation from the -blighting struggles, and contentions, and jealousies of human life. How -well for the world were each a vivandiere, alike in peace and in war! -What suffering would be driven from our midst, what misery averted, -what wretchedness reclaimed, what happiness dispensed around! Peter -imagined he here saw an imitation of her example, and it acted like -a charm upon his easy nature. How sad, then, was the sudden change -of his feelings when he discovered his mistake, and ascertained that -these were nothing but shrewd pretenders after all, who had succeeded, -by cunning and hypocrisy, to secure somewhat of a reputation for -honesty and charity. Affecting religiously to help the poor, they were -only magnanimously helping themselves, at the expense of the little -generosity left in the community. How often, thought he, do people -obtain credit for possessing a “big heart” just because they have none -at all? - -Peter was no longer inclined to follow these unworthy administrators -of the public bounty, and turning round he beheld a small, hump-backed -individual, who at once excited his interest. There was something -peculiarly repulsive in this man’s countenance, which invariably -prompted all who came in contact with him to put their hands into -their pockets and their fingers upon their purses. Peter was not -long in ascertaining that he was a broker and usurer, who, following -his profession in the midst of these poor and humble creatures, -seemed to fatten upon their poverty as does the vulture upon its -unfortunate prey. Whenever Peter relates this incident of his dream, -he declaims with all the vehemence he possesses. These inhuman and -unfeeling wretches, he declares, are the most formidable servants of -the devil, and always inherit his qualities to so eminent a degree -that no stranger could distinguish the servants from the master. As -the hawk pounces upon the helpless and trembling little sparrow, they -fasten their greedy talons upon the tatters of a ragged dress with -inextricable clutch; and as the savage beast licks the gore of its -victim, they suck the blood of theirs until crimson to the dewlap and -purple to the elbows. Pandora let loose her horde of evils to trouble -the world, said the heathens. The Christian acknowledges that God has -not so restricted the power of Satan as to prevent him from sending -his scourges upon the earth, of which he has liberally availed himself -by establishing his agents in the form of usurers and brokers in every -section of the world. Of old, they were justly regarded as little -better than murderers, and decidedly worse than thieves; for, says Cato -in Cicero, “our ancestors enacted in their laws, that a thief should -be condemned to pay double, but an usurer quadruple.” The Jew has at -least bigotry and prejudice, inherited from his fathers for nearly -two thousand years, to offer as an excuse when he robs the Gentile, -and yet it is a common saying, “that every day he takes an oath to -do what he can to cheat the Christians;” but these indiscriminately -plunder heathen and Christian, exhibiting no emotion beyond a satanic -chuckle over their success. They are ravenous pests who speculate upon -poverty and misfortune, and digest the misery around them with savage -glee--knaves who, for want of souls themselves, seek to crush the -souls of the unfortunate and distressed, apparently finding happiness -in their agonies, and nectar in their tears. Ah! thought Peter, what -worthy denizens of the pit they will make, and what amusement they will -afford to their master in their efforts to prey upon each other, for -doubtlessly they will follow their unrighteous trade, as the only one -fit to be pursued in hell! - -Easy Peter regarded this as truly an afflicted street when he was -drawn from the usurer to the rendezvous of the speculators. Amid the -wretchedness and poverty of this locality, there was an abundance of -ill-gotten gain, as he had sufficient opportunity to witness. These new -visions of his dream had assembled for the purpose of making a renewed -effort in their swindling schemes, and were engaged in revolving -their plans with evident satisfaction. Brigands have their leaders, -pirates their captains, and these, brigands and pirates sanctioned by -society, had their master spirit too. The common bands of freebooters -generally select as their chiefs the most desperate and daring amongst -them--these had elevated the most heartless to equal distinction. -Peter watched them framing their lies, and fortifying them with -plausibility, and pronounced the loathsome mass a fit dish for public -gullibility to digest. Here were schemes for particular purposes and -special individuals--there preparations for each, however large or -limited his means. Their enterprises had but a single basis: a design -to enrich themselves, at whatever cost to their fellows. This one end -had swallowed up every principle of integrity, every entity in morals, -every sympathetic impulse of the heart. The misery and distress, the -tears, and suffering, and despair, necessarily occasioned by their -deceptions, and frauds, and robberies, never disturbed their quiet, -but were simply regarded as pleasing comicalities to amuse them whilst -pocketing the plunder. Homer assures us that the profession of the -robber was regarded as glorious by some of the ancients, and Plutarch -informs us that amongst the Spaniards his exploits passed for gallant -adventures. Though we punish the bold and daring rogue, without making -the least allowance for his hair-breadth escapes, the treacherous -plunderer in our midst, who does not even possess the redeeming -trait of physical courage, receives our countenance and esteem. As -Peter was witnessing this excellent illustration of selfishness and -thievery, which a credulous people first pay dearly for and then -honor, their operations were interrupted for a moment by the entrance -of the Chief, or President of the band, in company with a well-to-do -looking individual, on whose arm he was affectionately leaning. They -had been friends for many years, and through the false yet plausible -representations of the former, the latter soon fell into the snare. -Unsuspectingly he became the victim to their designs, and though he -left perfectly content, another revolution of the earth was certain -to find him a bankrupt. It is true, reflected Peter, that villany is -often disguised under the garb of friendship, and where we most confide -suspicion is most required. - -Peter now heard a great noise in the street, and hurrying to the place -from whence it proceeded, he witnessed a grand display of pugilistic -skill. What had given origin to the quarrel he was unable to ascertain, -yet so bitter was the rage of the antagonists, who numbered some dozen -or more, that it had already lasted a considerable time, nor did it -seem to be in the least abating. There were but two spectators to the -scene, one of whom appeared to be much frightened and concerned, and -was using every persuasion to pacify the heated combatants. The other -looked calmly on, perfectly composed at what he saw, until unable to -contain himself any longer, he approached his friend and very mildly -addressed him: “Sir, I crave your pardon for having been amused at -your generous but mistaken efforts to quell this foolish quarrel. You -must know that there are those in this strange world of ours who have -totally blunted every feeling of refinement, and utterly destroyed -whatever moral sensibility they may once have possessed. Upon such your -honest appeals are always in vain. That they should not be entirely -placed beneath mortality, however, God has kindly endowed them with a -physical sensibility, through which you may often successfully reach -their depraved minds and obdurate hearts. You have appealed to the -moral feelings of these rioters to no purpose; and now, to demonstrate -what I have said, let me ascertain what impression can be made upon -their physical sensibilities.” Thus saying, he threw off a portion of -his cumbersome apparel, and giving notice that he had watched their -proceedings for upwards of an hour, he declared that the battle must -now be ended. This proving ineffectual, he entered into their midst, -and making several (to use a technical phrase,) “feel the unpleasant -weight of his fists,” he soon dispersed the boisterous crowd. An odd -mode, thought Peter, of making peace, yet in this instance a very -effectual one. - -Immediately after quiet had been restored, the street suddenly became -very populous, and Peter’s attention was arrested by the occupant of -a splendid conveyance, who was industriously engaged in answering the -polite recognitions that greeted him from every side. That this was a -personage of no little distinction seemed so evident that Peter asked -of the first passer-by what place of trust or honor he filled to such -general satisfaction. The inquiry simply elicited the information that -he was a private gentleman, who had succeeded in amassing great wealth -by taking usury from the poor, and selling worthless stocks to all whom -he could deceive into a purchase. He was but one of many illustrations -of what Juvenal has written, - - “That sins alike unlike rewards have found, - And whilst this villain’s hang’d, the other’s crowned.” - -Though every one knew him to be a rogue and a thief, the good condition -in which his practices had placed him, secured public obeisance. What a -multitude of sins, thought Peter, can be covered by a coach, and what -monstrous respect we extend to the knave when blessed with the smiles -of fortune! - -Turning from the occupant of the coach, Peter beheld a singularly -ludicrous, but withal a very distressing spectacle. A poor, -poverty-cursed creature was dying of starvation, whilst a wealthy -gentleman, who had been pitying him for days, was tenderly bending over -him and deploring his great distress, but could not so much open his -heart as to reach into his well-filled purse and draw forth a paltry -dollar to give relief. Strange, thought Peter, that men will whine, and -fret, and lament, over human misery and suffering, and yet so fastly -clutch a shilling as not to use it freely in obtaining aid and giving -succour. - -As Peter was gazing upon this unhappy scene, a smiling little gentleman -crossed his path, whom he was now compelled to follow. This interesting -individual appeared to be the friend of all whom he encountered, being -exceedingly social and affable. His friendly greetings were always -returned with the same politeness, though frequently with much less -affection. He had acquired a great reputation for benevolence, which -so elicited Peter’s esteem that he was pleased with every mark of -attention exhibited towards him. It was a maxim of the Stoics that -“men were, for the sake of men, brought into the world, that they -might assist and benefit each other,” and Peter fancied he here saw -one, at least, who lived up to this magnanimous aphorism. This good -opinion, however, was suddenly changed upon reaching his residence and -discovering that he was the head of a mongrel banking institution, and -so well adapted to his business that he experienced little difficulty -in defrauding and plundering his customers, even whilst swearing how -much he designed to befriend them. He was extremely pleasant to all in -front of the counter, and though profusely lavish and exceedingly fair -in promises, these were only made to afford him amusement in devising -the most ingenious modes in which to break them. He had long robbed -the State of its just portion of the dividends, used the funds of the -institution in fraudulent transactions, and placed them out secretly -at usury. After thus plundering thousands, he very generously gave -a little of the booty in charity to the poor. How very easy it is, -thought Peter, to win a good name, if you but know how to play the -hypocrite behind a fortune. - -When Peter emerged from the bank, his eyes encountered a character -whose odd appearance at once challenged his notice. He seemed to “take -the world extremely easy,” being quite philosophic in his indifference -to passing events, yet prided himself upon always rendering full -justice to mankind, and their good and evil practices, their virtues -and their vices, their errors and their follies. Peter ascertained that -he had been suddenly raised, by some fortunate occurrence, from abject -poverty to considerable wealth. The cruel manner in which he had been -neglected when poor by many whose flatteries now daily greeted him, -had somewhat soured his disposition; and although he was generous to -those who had once befriended him, he felt little sympathy for the -rest of the species. Peter learned that he had engaged to give to a -stranger, who contemplated removing his residence to that place, some -knowledge of the people, their character and habits. Nothing could have -been more gratifying to Peter Easy, so he kept close to his heels until -he arrived at the corner of one of the principal streets, the place -appointed for their meeting, where he found the stranger in waiting. - -There, said he to the stranger, as a poor, though apparently happy -individual passed by, is a personation of honesty. With such a man, the -old peasants used to say, “one may safely play at mora in the dark.” -This, however, is a very questionable compliment in our day, and has -brought him nothing but poverty as his reward, than which few evils -could be greater under our present social organization. Possessed of -a good nature, and feeling a proper interest in the welfare of his -friends, he never refused to extend his helping hand, until he has been -placed in the deplorable condition of being compelled to hunt for aid -himself. A task, thought Peter, which Pluto should have devised for -human punishment, instead of providing a hades. - -The short gentleman, continued he, who has just passed, is an honored -and skilful follower of a profession which has acquired considerable -note in the world, though now it must be practiced secretly. What has -occasioned this interdict is not easily discovered. Should you say to -that gentleman that an improved moral public opinion caused it, he -would merrily take your arm, and by leading you to a number of highly -respectable resorts, soon show you how much, at least in practice, the -majority is on the other side. It is said of the old Germans, that in -their passion for gaming, they often staked their persons upon a die, -and if unsuccessful, patiently became slaves. The world has made of -human life nothing but an uncertain game, in which the shrewdest cheats -frequently obtain the greatest honor. No wonder, then, that many who -would not purchase heaven by a little inconvenience, never hesitate to -follow in the German’s wake, profiting if successful, and enduring if -unlucky. That gentleman’s skill has thus far saved him. When he first -came amongst us, one of his bachelor kin was reputed wealthy, whilst -he was designated as the only heir. Notwithstanding his professional -practices, which were of course not taken into account, he married a -most respectable citizen’s daughter, who had long been angling for an -heir: but the bargain has proved an unprofitable one after all. His -wealthy kin, becoming intimate with his pretty housekeeper, eventually -married her--thus establishing a different order of succession. Ah, -thought Peter, “the best laid plans o’ men and mice gang aft aglie,” -and the foolish dreams of fickle maidens often end in a life of good -repentance. - -Yonder, sir, is another professional gentleman, but his profession is -of a different cast. He mistook his calling, and without possessing -any brain, desired to become a lawyer, but has failed even to make a -tolerable pettifogger. I am assured that his teacher, who swore that -his skull was so “miserably thick” that scarcely an idea could be -battered into it, constantly importuned and urged him to venture upon -some learned profession, having been fully persuaded, from observation, -that the stupidity which he so eminently possessed, was one of the -most essential qualifications for such an undertaking. I have advised -him to turn his attention to medicine, as being better suited to his -calibre, and in which he might perhaps prove more prosperous, or at -least find greater security for his deficiencies. He still clings to -his profession, however, and having thus far maintained his dignity by -constant calls upon his acquaintances, he is now prepared to cheat them -all. A practice, thought Peter, quite common, but no one need expect -to pass through the world without contributing his quota towards -supporting the drones that are in it. - -There, sir, you may rest assured you see a moral man. Never mind his -rags, for you must know that young men, morality, and fine linen, -seldom go together in this world, where fathers invite libertines -to their houses, where mothers welcome the attentions paid to their -daughters by noted debauchees, and where young maidens themselves -prefer a smile from wealthy licentiousness to a nod from virtuous -poverty. Though he is neither Godwardly nor manwardly crooked, -which should secure him esteem in a world of such great pretence -to excellence, he has sufficiently experienced that virtue, when -contrasted only with its present social rewards, is but an “empty name, -a phantom, an abject slave, exposed to the insults of fortune,” as -the dying Roman Stoic has declared. He has been tempted enough, but -relying upon the self-approval which has never abandoned him, this has -only made him a more shining example. I proclaim to you, upon better -authority than my own, that there is a resting place provided for the -troubled, and that men like he will inherit it. Thanks, thought Peter, -for the happy prospect of adding another to the names in my little -volume. [Here it must be explained that Peter had long kept a small -book, in which he had written the names of all whom he personally -encountered during his life, and who, he supposed, might stand a -respectable chance of profiting by the exchange of worlds to be made -at their last gasp; but thus far he had occasion to call it into -requisition only on three several occasions. The third time, however, -having discovered his own deception, he used it to amend by erasing one -of the names previously registered there.] - -You see yonder group of three: the one is a petty printer, the other an -unscrupulous politician, and the third an independent voter. Altogether -there is wit enough amongst them to make one tolerable fool, and heart -enough to make one paltry villain. The first endeavors to persuade the -public that the second is an honest and patriotic citizen, for which he -receives the common rewards of the political toady: a pleasant smile -and lavish promises to begin,--a bitter curse, worse treachery, and a -parting kick, to end; the other has already been in office for a time, -and has stolen sufficient for another campaign; whilst the third is -just preparing to increase his shouts for the good of the country, for -which he demands a greater indulgence to his appetites. The palate is a -marvellous channel through which to obtain distinction and preferment, -an easy manufactory of good opinion, extorting pledges of eternal -friendship with astonishing rapidity, and clinching a kind conclusion -with emphatic precision. The old maxim has it, that “you may easily -pin down a fellow’s nose to a full table,” and much of the success -and distinction in the world has no better basis. The aspirant yonder -knows full well how to avail himself of this one of our good-natured -imperfections, and having duped the people once, through its aid and -the assistance of his companions, this success has emboldened him to -make another effort. Beware of them all, for though they may be loud in -their declamations and vociferous in their patriotic demonstrations, -they still answer Seneca’s description,--“their liberty consists -principally in stuffing their bellies”--and may yet incur the general -ridicule instead of obtaining the public plunder. The most serious -public matters, you know, are often made the merest farces, and the -frequent promotion of knaves as often incurs no paltry penalties, as -you may learn from that red-faced individual approaching this way. -“Mankind,” says an old philosopher, “are not so happy, as that the best -things shall have the most patrons and defenders;” and notwithstanding -the habits of that officer, he has been elevated to the chief position -of this place, and now sits in judgment upon all offenders. His first -morning task is to meet his friends at the “Stag’s Head” yonder, his -second to feast upon and imbibe the wherewith to maintain his ruddy -hue, and his third to reel to his office, open his judicial council, -and dispose of the drunken or offending creatures who may have been -taken into custody during the night, not so much for ill behaviour -as to provide a paltry fee for the police. Of course, a police whose -rewards depend upon the number of unfortunate creatures that may fall -into their clutches, cannot be remarkably cautious upon whom they -exercise their authority, nor measure personal freedom by any very -exact or liberal scale. Nothing beyond the prospect of a few picayunes, -thought Peter, is required to make men’s vision double, and cause them -to discover heinous offences where the disinterested and humane only -see matter for merriment or pity. - -Here comes a peculiar organization of human qualities. Avarice, -prodigality, and falsehood, are that man’s principal characteristics--a -combination of inconsistent vices which make him rather a petty fool -than a sensible knave, to which latter distinction he seems to aspire. -To day he will clutch a shilling with a grasp so powerful that nothing -can extort it, and to-morrow he will contract a debt to gratify the -most paltry vice that may move him. Should he happen to get into your -debt upon such an occasion, he will not be at a loss for lies to evade -your demand. When Mareschal de Rochelaure was accused of taking part -with the Duke of Mayenne, he answered the king that he “did not follow -the duke, but his own money, for his debt would be but in a desperate -condition, if he did not stick close to his debtor.” Your tenacity -in sticking close to that man would only extort from him the same -falsehood a thousand times, and if detected and reproached, he would -coolly ask you whether you were so cursed a fool as to believe him! He -never enjoys a hearty laugh, save when he has duped some unsuspecting -individual who may have been induced to confide in him.----You need not -be surprised at his quick and sudden disappearance around the corner; -for yonder comes his especial friend, the collector, who has caused -him to tell more lies than a dozen of satan’s imps could register in a -year, and make more clumsy dodges than could be chronicled in a volume -as large as a quarto Bible. Of all dreaded things in our place, that -collector is the most dreaded. He is a clever, sociable, and amusing -fellow, who first puts you in a happy humor by his joviality, and -then draws the money from your purse before you are aware of it. He -was quite a favorite a few years ago, his society being universally -courted, but since he has engaged in his present employment every body -dodges and runs from him. My dear sir, if you wish to preserve your -friendly intercourse with a neighborhood, never become a collector; -but should you ever be beset with more friends than you know what to -do with, I know of no honorable process by which you can so easily get -rid of them as by commencing this troublesome business. However brave -a people may be, reflected Peter, they have never yet had the courage -boldly to face a bill, and many who had laughed danger in the face, -skulked like cowards into the darkest corner upon beholding the simple -shadow of a creditor. - -You observe yonder lynx-eyed individual moving slowly along. He sees -all that is passing within vision around him. His two eyes seem to -answer the purposes of a hundred, and are constantly in motion. -Although everything within their range falls under their quick and -penetrating scrutiny, they behold nothing to admire or to make him -glad. They might as well gaze upon an utter blank, and certainly he -would experience more comfort should they recognise only a wide and -dismal waste instead of prosperity and happiness. He is as despicable -a victim of envy as the world ever saw, which simply moves him to hate -the success of those around him, and repine at their happiness. He can -only find gratification in their distress and joy in their calamities. -A tinge of envy, however much descried, is sometimes productive of -good results, for I have known it to prove an incentive to exertion -where all else had failed; but when permanently retained, it becomes -the powerful and fertile cause of hypocricies, lies, deceits, -treacheries, slanders, annihilating every good quality in nature, and -yet unsatisfied, still adding fuel to its evil ones. That man would -not hesitate to blast the qualities of your brain, merely because he -cannot bear your superiority; nor would he pause to ruin you in your -possessions, although he should not derive the least profit from it. -Whilst, however, he discovers pleasure in the ruin alike of those -above and below him, he finds a vulture in his evil passion, which, -“like iron over-run with rust, not only defiles, but destroys himself -continually.” It is well, reflected Peter, that passions which can -only experience delight in the evil fate of others, should likewise -make a meal upon their possessor, and that whilst he smiles upon the -calamities of the unfortunate, his smile should be but an expression of -his inward torture. - -There you may recognise a bald-pated knave, whose age, instead of -preserving him from the snares of the young, only seems to encourage -and embolden him the more. He is in company with his son-in-law, to -whom he once refused to give his daughter’s hand in marriage, for -reasons which he did not care to make known either to her or his -household. The vigilance and curiosity of those less interested, -however, soon succeeded in ascertaining them, and the discovery -afforded no little amusement at his perplexity. The chief priests and -scribes were not in a greater quandary when they had the choice to say -“yea,” and be convicted of their baseness, or “nay,” and be stoned by -the people. He had too often met the aspirant to his daughter’s hand -at places of resort where none of our community who values his moral -character is likely to go. Peter was somewhat at a loss here, yet he -could not help reflecting that the father who visits places of crime, -is in a very ridiculous dilemma when compelled to make use of his -personal knowledge and his own dishonor to preserve the reputation of -his family. - -See there--worthy patterns of a gentleman and lady. He is an honest -and faithful husband, and she an affectionate and virtuous wife. They -love wisely and well, live happily in each other, and are models to -all who know them. Make them your friends, for the very atmosphere in -which they move is worth more than all the attention a thousand such -as have yet passed us could bestow. The lord who loves his lady truly, -and ever keeps unbroken the faith he has plighted to her, becomes as -much an example to the world as a joy to his wife; and the lady who -never forgets her affection and allegiance to her lord, is so much -superior to the common woman that to him she always seems an angel out -of Paradise. “An honest man,” said old Simonides, “can have nothing in -this world better than a good wife,” and surely an honest woman can -ask no higher blessing than a good husband. You see such in those two, -and may well seek their friendship and profit by their excellencies of -character and correctness of habits. Ah! thought Peter, a happy oasis -in the desert of matrimonial life, still inspiring reverence for the -institution, though it be made the fickle plaything of the world, its -common game of heedless chance and hazard. - -There, sir, in that old man you see an impersonation of prejudice, a -quality not inaptly defined as “the spider of the mind, filling it with -cobwebs.” His opinion once set, no power on earth can change it, and -beware that you press not too closely, lest he adopt the convincing -logic of Frederick the Great, who, it is said, when argument failed -to enforce his convictions, had recourse to “kicking the shins of his -opponent.” Guide his thoughts into one channel and they will follow -it, though it should lead him to the devil. His prejudices frequently -render him as obstinate as a mule, and as often not as wise. He still -stands where his fathers stood before him, and joined to the idols -and follies of a past age, he has no sympathies with the present. If -he thinks at all, he does so simply to fasten upon his mind the more -his cherished errors, and your only policy is to “let him alone.” -Never, reflected Peter, undertake to straighten the crooked nature -of the prejudiced man, for to him all your facts are nothing but a -stumbling-block, and all your reasons simple foolishness. - -Yonder lame individual furnishes a story well illustrating the -fickleness of the human heart. Though we may appear to be enraptured -with a single feeling, the intervention of a trifling circumstance not -unfrequently entirely relieves us of it. That gentleman courted a fair -young maiden, and eventually his attentions resulted in a betrothal. An -unfortunate accident soon after deprived him of a leg, and being thus -deformed, his love required little time to extinguish her affection, -and accordingly broke her faith. She had bargained more for a solid man -than a sound head or heart, and being disabled from complying with the -conditions, he was politely rejected. Thus good luck often springs from -misfortune, and he gained greatly by the loss of a limb. What a world -of cripples, thought Peter, this would suddenly become, could all who -desired it be relieved by the loss of a leg of the ills from which his -fortunate misfortune preserved him. - -Turn your eyes to the left, and you may behold a fanciful pair -approaching towards us. That pursy and apparently very jovial -fellow--mine host of yonder inn--keeps a resort for gentility, and -under the cover of respectability, sends forth unnumbered evils to -infest and afflict the community. The practices of his house flourish -admirably under the beauty of a fashionable exterior; yet the -pestiferous rottenness within could not withstand the eye of modern -justice for a moment if disguised only in rags. Public morality in -the case where gold is concerned, is quite a different thing from -that wherein simple copper is brought into the scale. Respectable -crime easily escapes the keen vigilance of those who guard the public -virtue, whilst we are loud in their praises when some poor, abandoned, -God-forsaken wretch is hurried to his doom amid the imposing show of -a high morality and an even-handed justice. That man may lavishly -spread his fearful evils--the only things with which men appear to be -truly bountiful--with unchecked freedom; and whenever they press too -heavily upon us, a few plaintive groans will soon arouse the slumbering -sentinels of the law. Powerful justice will sound its signal, -triumphantly make a brutal “descent” upon some paltry hut, and drag its -starving inmates to the slaughter. Well, has not Carneades pronounced -his definitive sentence that “justice is folly;” and what matters -it whether I offend, and some more unfortunate creature pays the -penalty, so that justice is appeased? It must have victims, and fate, -ill-fortune, and poverty, have not been miserly in providing them. -Thus it is never at a loss for the means wherewith to preserve that -reputation which Tully thought so essential “that even those who lived -by outrage and villany could not subsist without at least its shadow -or semblance.” That fortunate knave may prosper in his practices, and -though their fatal consequences may sometimes arouse our vengeance, -there never will be wanting those whose immolation will allay it. His -tall, robust companion is a character--a perfect original. He will hug, -and pet, and caress you with the tenderness of a captivated maiden, all -for a picayune; and when he has thus fondled it out of your possession, -having no prospect of realizing more, he would as lovingly kick you out -of doors for a ha’penny--thus making you as profitable a customer as -the circumstances could possibly admit. Headlong and heedless withal, -his actions ever in advance of his thoughts, he is a mass of locomotive -matter, tumbling about on the earth, with no idea to accomplish, no -purpose to fulfil. This is not the only one, reflected Peter, who has, -by some comical dispensation of nature, been placed outside of his -orbit, as if it designed to exhibit what a fickle whirligig can be made -of man by unhinging his directing power. - -Look to that building yonder. The gentleman who has just entered it -is a modern reformer. He railed against the evil habits of men, and -the sinful and dishonest practices of the world, until sent to the -penitentiary for having attached another man’s name to a small piece -of bankable paper. The imitation was good, but unfortunately for him -history had chronicled the adventures of Saavadra, the famous and -somewhat romantic nuncio of Portugal, and having failed, in his mania -for improvement, to improve upon this noted forger, he atoned for his -unsuccessful attempt by faithfully serving the full period of his -sentence. He is now riding his hobby-horse of “Reform” again, with even -greater boldness than before. This may be owing to the extra courage -acquired, or perhaps to the change effected in the times, during the -period which he devoted to solitary meditations. The sledge-hammer mode -of reform has since accomplished marvels and become highly fashionable; -but it is now greatly feared that many too charitable fellows, in -their exceedingly magnanimous efforts to drive the erring back from -the brink of perdition, will stand a very excellent chance of tumbling -in themselves. He has abandoned the task of persuading for the more -exalted one of coercing, which may prove more profitable; but should -he branch out a second time upon his own responsibility, it is hoped -he may realize his ideas of improvement by choosing some species of -roguery wherein he shall leave no historical example unexcelled. It is -no uncommon occurrence of the ludicrous in life, reflected Peter, to -see those in whom the ordinary thief could not confide, suddenly become -reformers, and find patrons for their presumption and fools to regard -them as patterns of moral propriety. - -Note that gentleman and lady opposite. He is her husband. Having seen -his wife in dishabille the morning after his wedding, and meeting -her upon his return home at noon arrayed for public inspection, it -is currently reported, he found her so much improved and beautified -that he mistook her for a stranger, and absolutely asked her of the -whereabout of his spouse. Nature has been exceedingly kind after all. -If it has ordained that youth should fade, it has generously furnished -the material whereby a century can be made to assume the appearance of -a score. What matters it that old Father Cyprian thought all change the -work of satan, and pronounced it running counter to the will of God -to paint or black the hair, because he had read, “Thou canst not make -one hair white or black?” Who cares for the declaration of Tertullian, -that “it is the devil that mounts the actors on their buskins, in order -to make Jesus Christ a liar, who has said, that no one can add one -cubit to his stature?” They were both wofully mistaken, and our ladies -have most triumphantly refuted their errors, by silently exhibiting -that a hundred Tophets could not supply imps enough to make half the -changes and additions which they daily parade before our eyes. It is -marvellous, reflected Peter, what artificial charms can be conjured -up by those who properly understand the art of beauty; and why should -they fret and complain against fate, when, with paint, powder, and -cotton, they are constantly proving that their troublesome deficiencies -were simply meant as so many kindnesses, by leaving them at liberty to -manufacture whatever hue and dimensions that might best please their -fancies? - -The young lady and gentleman who have just passed by, seem to have -arrested your attention. They are intimate acquaintances, and it is -conjectured they will be something more in due time. You heard her -indignant remark upon the dissoluteness of that young man yonder, a -distant and ill-starred connexion of hers, and her emphatic wish for an -edict providing for the decapitation of all such reckless creatures. -Her creed, my dear sir, if impartially carried into effect, would -scarcely permit a head to remain solidly upon the shoulders of a single -citizen in the country; and her companion, though he does share her -virtuous affections, would be one of the first to despair for his -own. If shrewder and more cunning, he certainly is no better than the -individual who has elicited her censure, though she knows it not. -Her ignorance is blissful, however deceptive. Should some superhuman -agency, thought Peter, suddenly reveal the truthful characters of -Cupid’s followers, how many confiding maidens would be startled at -having admired the most knavish deceivers, and how many foolish swains -would stand aghast with horror at the dishonest treachery of their -lady-loves! - -In that young man approaching this way, you may recognise somewhat of -a philosopher. You might as well attempt to scale the mountains of the -moon as to persuade him that there was much real virtue in the world. -“We are honest,” he argues, “from convenience or policy, and apparently -moral from a fear of society, which has established certain rules, -and is given to certain general opinions, the violations of which are -always attended with some difficulties or vexations. The old Romans -had their censors, whose chief business it was to inspect the morals -of the citizens, and could we, by following some such example, spread -out before us the hidden conduct and practices of each individual, the -little of real conscience and truth, substantial honesty and morality, -we should be able to detect, might tempt us to abandon our moral code -entirely. Or could we, by a glance, penetrate the past lives and -habits, and scrutinize the secret sins of all whom we encounter, what -a terrible blushing there would be in the world, and how many would -laugh in each other’s faces! Many whose apparent honesty now claims -your respect, unable any longer to disguise their hypocrisy, would only -make merry over the numerous counterparts of themselves with whom they -should constantly come in contact. The virtuous Thrasea spoke but the -truth in his favorite maxim, that ‘he who suffers himself to hate vice -will hate mankind;’ for, although all must pretend to virtue from a -kind of social necessity, it is a garment which they cast aside without -a pause when rendered safe from detection, ever faithfully illustrating -the saying of Agathias, that ‘virtue upon necessity is just as long -lived as the fear that occasions it.’ The world seems desperately -determined to vindicate what its Saviour has affirmed, and no prophecy -promises to be more fully realized than his sorrowful declaration that -‘narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find -it.’” Such is a taste of the young man’s opinions, in which he is so -firmly rooted, that should you persuade him that the fate of the town -depended upon ten righteous men to be found within it, he would at once -take to his heels, and never pause until he was far out of danger. -Whether there is not too much of correctness in his melancholy views, -you must determine for yourself.--No very difficult matter, reflected -Peter, amid the many unpleasant examples that are destined daily to -bring unwelcome aid to your judgment, and exhibit to your gaze so many -who seem but to struggle the hardest to obtain the greatest curses. - -You will pardon the interruption, said the stranger, but my attention -has been arrested by the counterfeit manikin suspended by the neck to -the branch of yonder tree, and my curiosity excited to know what fickle -whim or fancy placed it there. Its import, replied the other, not -endeavoring to restrain his merriment, is very significant. The female -occupants of the adjoining houses have for some time been engaged in a -bitter quarrel. The intolerable scolding propensities of one of them, -common report avers, caused her husband to resort to that effective -mode of obtaining relief. The cunning of the other, in the progress of -the quarrel, has devised that silent but expressive expedient as an -annoyance and remembrancer to her enemy, and by replacing it as often -as it is destroyed, promises fair to be the conqueror in the end. - -Here you may recognise one of those silly or knavish creatures, in whom -it is difficult to tell whether the mule or the monkey predominates. -He knows but of one vice in the world, and it is the subject of his -constant denunciations. He is ceaseless in his praises of honesty, and -as “opportunity makes the thief,” according to the proverb, he will -probably preserve his reputation as long as he remains amongst those -who know him. It is given as a rule, and in case you encounter him it -may prove of service, always to mistrust the man who too much prides -himself upon possessing a certain quality, and to be suspicious of -him who constantly deals in vehement complaints against a particular -vice. Such are generally weak in what they boast themselves strong, and -their darts are frequently directed against the very fault peculiar to -themselves. It is so, thought Peter, even with the great world, which -ever descries its own practices, and yet tenaciously continues in them, -as if loathe to part with such excellent causes to elicit its censure, -and such admirable escape-valves through which its wrath may freely -ooze itself away. - -There is an amusing and withal pitiable victim of a mistake. He was a -lodger at a public inn, and rising early one morning, he was mistaken -for a burglar, and received a terrible beating from his hasty and -suspicious host. To redress this injury, he flew to the law--a very -singular power to decide upon a mistake. The landlord, not thus to be -outdone, brought a more serious charge against him in retaliation. The -blind Goddess, whose determinations were ascertained by two intelligent -juries, very magnanimously gave each the benefit of the mistake, and -both found comfortable lodgings in the county prison. There, thought -Peter, they had leisure at least to cool their sanguine tempers, and -reflect upon the frequent tendency of the merest trifles to grow into -importance. - -Opposite, you may see a genuine specimen of what the world calls -a “successful fellow.” He claims to be a proper person to reside -upon this especial sphere of God’s creation, and bases his peculiar -fitness upon two facts: he is not encumbered with an extra amount -of conscience, nor is he restrained by any settled principles of -virtue--two things, he avers, not well calculated to promote prosperity -in a world where the right and wrong of human actions are so generally -estimated by profit and loss. He will never suffer on account of -possessing too much of either, both of which he regards as certain -roads to poverty, and consequently loss of the world’s esteem. To -persuade you that he is doing you a service whilst plundering you, he -thinks the perfection of skill and ingenuity. Should he ever tempt you -to enter into any of his promising schemes, beware of his plausible -representations, for you may swear they only conceal a design to pick -your pocket with your own consent. No very uncommon occurrence, -reflected Peter, in a world where prosperity is made to depend upon a -cunning address, and where a shrewd head is so much preferred to an -honest heart. - -Approaching us, you may see a specimen of that sad human depravity -so frequently encountered, and whom the good morals of the virtuous -public have generally indulged under the plea of necessity. She was -unfortunate recently in disturbing the peace of a very respectable -locality, and having thus over-stepped the bounds of that necessity -which tolerated her, she fell into the meshes of the law, and gave us -rather a funny illustration of the melancholy effect misfortune has -upon friends. Her most punctual visitors, whom she had always received -so very graciously, perhaps having a view to their circumstances and -positions in society, now repulsed her the most roughly, and gave -free vent to their virtuous indignation when she presumed to solicit -_their_ aid. After experiencing this ingratitude and baseness, she -became seriously ill from the excitement; and despairing of being -again restored, her repentant fears set her raving as if mad. Her -disconnected revelations were watched with wonderful anxiety, affording -great amusement to some, and as greatly exciting the fears of others; -but when she expressed it as a Christian duty that a _very_ minute -account of her ill-spent life should be given, she caused more genuine -consternation than could have followed a siege of the town. The fearful -disclosures of a few dozen of her kind, reflected Peter, in each city -and town of the country, specifically setting forth the names of their -visitors and lovers, could create more confusion than attended the -marches of Alexander, and cause a panic perhaps only equalled by that -of ancient Rome when invaded by the barbarians. - -Turn, however, from this unwelcome picture, and behold that fancy young -man yonder. He is too ignorant to be of any service in the position of -life to which he pretends, and too much inflated with his own conceit -to render himself useful in a different calling. Between these not -uncommon qualities, he manages to trudge along, cheating his tailor, -defrauding his landlord, and swindling all who may be so unfortunate as -to mistake his appearance for respectability and his pretensions for -honesty. How such palpable fools manage to maintain their stupidity -upon the plunder of more sensible knaves, is one of those inexplicable -mysteries of life which few have attempted to determine. We have -repudiated the rule of Aristotle, that only those employments are to -be reputed mean which render either the body or the soul unfit for the -practice of virtue; and by making certain pursuits a test of social -standing, and the neglect of all, a sure index of respectability, -we have admirably succeeded in rearing a brood of vagabonds whom it -would now be ungenerous to neglect. Thus, perhaps, they owe more to -our indulgence and kindness than we are willing to acknowledge, being -content to endure an occasional swindle, and in this silent manner -atone somewhat for an evil which we have ourselves created. It is so -much easier, reflected Peter, to tolerate some errors than to reform -them, and we are happily prepared to submit to their inconveniences if -they will only do us the kindness a little to tickle our vanity. - -Look to the windows of yonder houses--two handsome females. You may -learn a salutary lesson by carefully contemplating their countenances. -The one has led a life of guilt--the other one of innocence and virtue. -Look at their smiles: what sadness there is in the one, and what -satisfaction there seems to linger around the other! With the guilty, -a smile springs only from the lips; with the good, it pleasantly -indicates and answers emotions of the heart. See how vexed and restless -the manner of the one, and how easy and calm that of the other--a noble -contrast between abandonment and graceful dignity. The very bearing -of the one indicates a knowledge of her degradation, whilst that of -the other firmly yet modestly asserts her equality and her claim to -respect. In their loneliness there, you may clearly read the thoughts -of each mirrored in her face. What an expression of languor, regret, -melancholy, remorse, agony, despair, you see in the one; what quiet -repose, comfort, content, pleasure, happiness, joy, is depicted in -the other! See in contrast, a spectre of deep, guilty sorrow, peering -out from the wrinkles and furrows which tell of fearful tempests and -revulsions within, and a calm placid vision beaming forth the life -and buoyancy that speak only of the sweet serenity of the soul: dark, -dreary, desolate night, filled with treacheries, conspiracies, murders, -sprites, and hobgoblins, and bright, mellow sunshine, awakening every -impulse and arousing every feeling to chaste delights! The terrors of -guilt must indeed be fathomless, if it mixes a remorseful recollection -with every smile, and tortures with mental anguish even the moments -treasured for repose. Excitement cannot silence or drive thought from -the brain, and retirement cannot prevent the soul from shrinking from -its own pollution. “All nature is too weak a fence for sin,” observes -an ancient poet, and “hell itself can find no fiercer torment than a -guilty mind,” remarks another. Whatever, reflected Peter, may be the -evil practices of the world, it cannot avoid the furies which they -invoke, nor escape the terrors of their revenge. - -Ah! see my worthy friend approaching. He is a preacher, and I believe -a good man, who loves his fellows, and means all mankind well. His -head and heart, however, do not work well together--the one is as -empty as the other is full. Well, if the devout Japanese can perform -his devotions by machinery, having his _chu-kor_ constantly fixed in -some running stream, where it never ceases praying for the prosperity -of his house, why may not we go through ours with equal convenience? -We are told that our ceremonies seldom trouble our hearts, and if so, -surely there is little reason why they should trouble our tongues -or limbs. Some such reflection, no doubt, has induced our people to -invent many fashionable and easy modes of getting into heaven, for -which they deserve lasting gratitude; but then the ways of the Lord are -inscrutable, and he has raised up a brood of stupid, prosey, old-women -preachers to pest and afflict them. They may make the sanctuary airy, -or shut out the chill, together with their servants, and then snooze -away on soft, easy cushions, just as though it was the most paltry -trifle to inherit the kingdom; yet the Lord is generous, and will -frequently remind them of their error by inflicting upon them the -sermons of such stupid though good meaning servants as my friend here. -When, therefore, reflected Peter, we rightly understand the uses of -“bad preachers,” a very common and very equivocal complaint, they -reveal a design the wisdom of which it is sinful to censure. - -The dumpy individual yonder, wearing the badge of authority, is -a worthy constable. Like the great number of his class, he is an -excellent man for his calling, wanting both heart and brain, and being -consequently little troubled with conscience or integrity. Every -poor wretch, whom misfortune has dragged beneath our compassion, -adds a trifle to his purse, and immeasurably to his glory. Living -on the world’s depravity, he seeks to deprave it the more, that he -may increase the profits of his trade. Under the plea of justice he -is constantly outraging its holy decrees, and instead of protecting -society, he has become one of the worst of its pests. He will boast for -hours of his shrewdness, and gloat with wonderful exultation over the -ruin of a victim to his formidable oath. Justice would be fearfully -crippled without his excellent eyes, whose vision neither doors nor -masonry can shut out, and rendered almost entirely powerless without -his ears, which happily possess the sharpness to detect the minutest -particulars of a crime carried wonderful distances through the whispers -of the wind. Though a score should surround him and witness an event, -he would hear more than their forty ears, and surprise them all at the -absolute worthlessness of their eyes, when he came to narrate his tale -in that convenient arena for the exhibition of his talents, a criminal -court. Like the pander in Terence, “to have the knack of perjury” he -considers a necessary accomplishment, and he never fails to bring down -his game when once fairly brought within the range of his oath. Ah, -reflected Peter, how many a poor wretch’s fate has depended upon so -excellent a swearer, and no one pitied him! - -In that slender young man you behold a miserable victim to his own -base passions. He moves along, a loathing disgrace to himself, -encountering the contempt of all who have not fallen equally low in -general esteem. You will preserve your reputation by following their -example, and carefully avoiding him. His evil habits have rendered him -so exceedingly infamous that nothing less than the sudden acquisition -of about fifty thousand dollars could make him a respectable man in -the estimation of our community. Should fortune thus favor him, you -may consider the interdict removed, and gain credit by doing obeisance -alike to him and his sins. What an excellent badge of character, -thought Peter, that can work such marvellous changes in public opinion, -and hide more faults and render invisible more defects than the mystic -ring of Gyges. - -There is a poor fellow whose head has been turned by not properly -inquiring into the good subject which engrossed his attention. Running -wild in his good excitement, he at last fancied he was blessed with -extraordinary power, and for a time labored with exceeding great -industry in casting out devils! He has now, however, abandoned the -excellent work, declaring that he found so many possessed that his -efforts were rendered entirely useless, and vowing that the harvest -is still as great as it was ages ago, and the laborers equally few. -No doubt, thought Peter, he who shall undertake so laborious a task, -will have little time for idleness, for to set all things right for -eternity, would require nothing short of eternity itself. - -When nature made that man yonder, it no doubt went outside of itself -in search of additional material. He is a compound too singular to -have been made up entirely of its own qualities. He practices medicine -without being able to read; plays the preacher and sometimes the -prophet, and occasionally acts the pettifogger. By the one he pretends -to save lives, souls by the other, and property by the third. He prays -vociferously and predicts astounding developments, but never pays his -debts; he is vehement in his denunciations of falsehood, but takes to -lying quite naturally when it promises a fair remuneration; he deplores -the errors of the world, and professes infallibly to drive away the -charms of witches; he denounces credulity, and sees “spooks;” he is a -philosopher, and pow-wows until exhausted in breath over all diseases -too powerful for his remedies. Never entertaining more than one idea -at a time, he must be ruled by it, no matter what it be or to what -foolishness it may lead him. To-night he may dream of some impossible -event or marvellous discovery, and to-morrow he will proclaim it as a -settled fact or superhuman revelation. He is constantly propounding -schemes to revolutionize the opinions and change the manners and -practices of the world, and yet swears by his faith in predestination. -A mass of incongruities, an embodiment of nonsense, he nevertheless -finds dupes who, perhaps tired of existence, will swallow his -prescriptions, meet their doom through his prophecies, and go to ruin -through his counsel. Well, reflected Peter, many a man has prospered -just because he was ignorant and stupid, and where wisdom starves -foolishness must often grow fat. - -Here you may behold a poor victim of misfortune, and a melancholy -illustration of how much human nature is capable of enduring. From his -boyhood he has been forced to encounter the terrors of adversity, and -submit to the agonies of poverty and want. The thumps and cuffs, he -declares, originally intended for equal distribution amongst several -scores, through some sad mistake, have daily been heaped upon his -single head, nor could he dodge the most trifling bump. Unable to -counteract his evil fate, he eventually sought refuge against it by -adopting the life of the soldier. Thus flying into the face of his -destiny, with the odds all against him, he only aggravated it the more, -adding to his miseries and increasing his privations. He has figured -upon many a field of carnage, but fortune has ever refused to send some -stray ball to end his career. Abbas, the Persian king, to prevent the -indignities of his misfortunes from falling upon his wives, commanded -their heads to be cut off in case he lost the battle--certainly an -infallible preventative. Not being disposed to apply so rigorous a -remedy to obtain relief, that unhappy creature has continued to submit -to the fatalities he could not avoid, and perhaps there are few evils -in nature which he has not felt. Though he has won the reputation of -a brave soldier, it is the only thing he has ever gained from his -countrymen, save their ingratitude. He has been to the wars, and -returned to beg his bread. He has stood a faithful sentinel over his -country’s honor in times of danger, and in its peace and prosperity -he has hungered and thirsted, and no one pitied him. He has grappled -with the foe, and been victorious: he has fought against his fate, and -it conquered him; yet he is the same old patriot still. It is said -that the enjoyments of life always counterbalance its ills, but he can -present a tear for every pleasurable emotion he has ever experienced, -and a pang for every impulse of joy that has ever lighted up his soul. -There is, reflected Peter, a hardness of heart in the world which -sometimes seems directed against a single individual, making his -existence a fearful burthen and rendering even his hopes a terror to -himself. - -See there--an excellent humbug. He pretends to science, and under -the pretext of enlightening our people, he has visited our town. To -instruct the public is certainly an honorable employment, but he is -a miserable preceptor. In the science to which he pretends he is a -marvellous fool, but as an imposter he is a cunning knave. Knowing his -ignorance, he wisely seeks to take advantage of the public curiosity, -and by working it into a state of itching excitement, he effects -more for himself than the most consummate skill or knowledge could -attain. His stupid lectures are nightly greeted by gaping crowds, -for which he is solely indebted to the fact, that he has provoked -the general inquisitiveness through the common and always effectual -expedient--giving private lectures to the ladies! Arouse the morbid -tastes of a community, and the silliest mountebank will receive its -encouragement. What a happy and convenient thing is science, reflected -Peter, not only furnishing a sufficient excuse for all kinds of -familiar discourse, but also taking off our hands much unpleasant labor -by giving currency to such magnanimous instructors. - -Here you may recognise an uncongenial creature who could not survive -a single day without some object upon which to exercise his malice. -Though he may never before have seen you, you may rest assured he -will report you a villain, or something not far removed from one. Of -course, it is his especial business to know all concerning you and your -possessions, and his imagination will readily account for everything: -in such a manner, too, as to leave you little cause for self-esteem. -His only true delight appears to be in slander, and he would barter -heaven for a bit of scandal; yet it were folly to endeavor to avoid -him, for he is not without numerous counterparts whom you could -scarcely hope to escape, though you should immediately quit the town. -Should we now, reflected Peter, revive the ancient punishment of the -Poles, who publicly forced the slanderer beneath a table and there -compelled him to bark three several times, declaring that he “had lied -like a dog,” what a fearful and terrific yelling and howling would -suddenly be set up in the world! - -See yonder--a “clever fellow.” He has managed to store his head with -an abundance of old jokes and anecdotes, which, having formed an -effectual barrier against anything else entering into it, are ever at -his service. His tongue never flags, which may perhaps be owing to the -light burthens it is required to bear, for he never troubles it to give -expression to a heavy thought or weighty idea. It is said that Tithonus -was transformed into a grasshopper on account of his inclination to -talk, but the same propensity has only succeeded in converting that man -into a liar. He can sing a song, whistle a jig, and although he may -have talent to play a tolerable tune, it must be confessed he plays -a game at cards with much greater skill. Polite and affable, he has -the address to pass for a gentleman, which, together with a readiness -to do their little errands and oblige their whims, brought him into -great favor with the ladies, as you observe he is kindly recognised -by every one who passes by him. He has a happy faculty of adapting -himself to the company into which he may be introduced; and by long -practice he has become so expert, that he now finds no more difficulty -in entertaining a circle of staid, sober, and inquisitive dotards -with “old wives’ fables,” than in directing some licentious carousal. -Amongst the gifts with which nature has blessed him, none has proved -of more service to him than his excellent stomach, which seems to be -perfect proof against the law of “wear and tear.” He can keep you -company at the table until you become stupid, drink your health until -you become drunk, and then coolly furnish you with a lying excuse to -avert the threatening frowns or pacify the angry rage of your wife. -His opinions and his conscience are alike pliable, which enables him -without trouble to suit himself either to your mind or heart, or to -both if required. He will defend the prejudices and errors of the one -with true friendly zeal, and commend the good of the other with the -enthusiasm of a saint, or encourage its wickedness with the skill of -a panderer. Whatever pleases you will be certain to delight him, and -he will soon be so assimilated to your tastes as to declare you his -“second self.” A rioting, roistering life, however, best comports with -his fancy, and he is constantly leading some of his numerous friends -into indecorous exploits or lawless adventures. He swears the world -was “made for sport,” and why should he be as morose as an anchorite, -or shut himself up like some sleepy monk, too drowsy to brush a fly -from his nose? Then, too, he is so very liberal--not only generously -sharing his pleasures with you, but even providing you with excellent -reasons why you should partake of them, and reducing your most heinous -offences into “common, every-day peccadilloes.” Are you young, he will -persuade you that few faults or vices are so monstrous as to be denied -a place amongst youthful follies; and if old, what could be wiser than -to employ the little time remaining for you in the pursuit of pleasure -and enjoyment? Freely mingling with all, and never finding fault with -any, his accomplishments or traits of character have won for him the -fine distinction of being a “very clever fellow,”--which to you may -mean that he is an excellent and worthy man, inclined to society and -familiar colloquies; whilst to another it would simply indicate that he -is a silly and amusing clown, or a shrewd and cunning villain. Well, -though such distinction may be highly honorable, it has been courted by -so many, and is now so promiscuously conferred, that I make it a rule -always to look with caution upon him who wears it, and only trust him -in proportion to his cleverness. - -Easy Peter heard nothing more, for his attention was here arrested by -a large, overgrown youth, who was leaning against a ponderous tree -which had very magnanimously been spared from the axe, in the progress -of improvement, for the benefit of weary and sweltering pedestrians. -This venerable relic of a past age, still standing erect with its -extended branches, as if defying the inroads of time, had long been a -great favorite with all the lazy loungers of the place, and its huge -trunk, to the height of some five or six feet, presented a surface -whose glistening and greasy smoothness could not have been imitated by -any tradesman’s skill. Many were the changes it had witnessed, both -in the old time and in the new, and there was not a loiterer within -miles around whose faults and foibles had not been exhibited beneath -its sheltering branches. Here the idle personages of the town would -congregate in knots and coteries, detailing for the thousandth time -their dry anecdotes, stale jokes, and wonderful traditions, in many of -which the aged tree itself bore so conspicuous a part that nothing but -its constant and inflexible immobility could have satisfied you that it -was not a moving, active, and sensible creature. This happy retreat had -become so very attractive indeed, that many an unpleasant and unquiet -home was abandoned for its more peaceful shades; and numerous were -the imprecations uttered against it by the ill-tempered dames of the -neighborhood, who, rather than acknowledge a less creditable cause in -their own tongues, accused the unconscious tree of enticing away their -husbands to the great annoyance and neglect of themselves. If evil -wishes could have blasted it, it would not have survived a single hour; -and there was never a thunder cloud seen in the distance which was not -hailed with many a prayer that the storm might terminate by casting -its fragments and splinters to the winds. Though these viragoes could -quickly raise terrific tempests around their husbands’ ears which never -failed to take effect, the thunderbolts of nature had very wisely been -placed beyond their reach; and thus they may renew their vengeful -imprecations and malignant wishes, but the venerable tree continues to -rear its towering form, and their disobedient husbands still take their -ease beneath its shady limbs. - -It was one of these idle individuals whom Peter now beheld, and his -appearance sufficiently indicated that he had inherited a full portion -of the rewards usually attending the habits to which he was addicted. -His old, weather-beaten hat admirably betokened that it had done good -service in its time. Although the many misfortunes it had encountered, -and the narrow escapes it had made, left some very visible impressions, -they had failed to deprive it of its entire brim and crown, and the -shreds that remained still adhered to each other with a tenacity that -spoke eloquently of their former harmonious love. His ill-conditioned -apparel, like a divided household, evinced a strong disposition to -mutiny and separate, and though much had been done to keep it together, -evidently by his own unskilful hands, it still obstinately resisted his -kind endeavors. Rent pieces of what had once borne a resemblance to -cloth dangled loosely about his ankles, his knees and elbows, refusing -to be confined, had broken through the tender barriers that had encased -them, and many an old patch about his person would flap and flutter as -the soft breeze whispered by him. These outward evidences of decay, -having penetrated no deeper than his garments, exhibited his healthy -and robust proportions in attractive and amusing contrast. A smile of -satisfaction, which many of his more fortunate and prosperous neighbors -might have envied, only contributed to bring out his prominent lips in -bolder relief, and his countenance was radiant with that self-content -which admires whatever is presented, and finds no fault with anything -but inconvenience and labor. Happily for him, his rulers were more -indulgent than Draco, the Athenian law-giver, who punished idleness -with death, and the laws under which he lived more lenient than those -of the ancient Gauls, which imposed a penalty upon the young for -exceeding the measure of their girdles, because “so large a paunch, -at such early years, could proceed from nothing else but laziness and -gormandizing.” Blessed by having been born in more auspicious times, -he seemed fully aware of his better destiny. Leaning against the shady -side of his venerable friend, in whose mute companionship he so much -delighted, he was looking leisurely around, as if engaged in taking -the exact measurement of every object that met his vision. His easy -carelessness appeared to make him oblivious of the busy world, being -only occasionally disturbed as he gazed, now upon some blackened -chimney, perhaps scenting the delicious odors of a grand Epicurean -feast in the ascending smoke, then upon some stately mansion, no doubt -pondering upon the tempting yet unattainable luxuries preparing within. - -The more Peter contemplated this newly discovered subject, the more -did the apparent similarity in sympathies and habits to himself, -elicit his admiration. There is no one, thought he, so eminently wise -and philosophic as the genuine loafer. Whilst the rest of mankind are -struggling and grasping, losing to-morrow what they held with tenacious -clutch to-day, this idle philosopher looks calmly on and laughs at the -butterfly chase. He sees his fellows contending with bitterness and -jealousy for a fancied good, and beholds the only pleasure it could -afford crushed in their own hands in their eagerness to attain it. In -the conflict around him, the passions of men are arrayed against each -other, and the good sentiments of their natures compelled to yield -before the concussions they encounter. It is a struggle in which he -sees the most vicious too often carry off the greatest prizes, whilst -none retires from the field without leaving a portion of his soul -behind. Others may follow the alluring promises which tempt them, and -be carried away by the first surging wave of excitement that sweeps -along, he remains unmoved. Let the world go as it will, he betakes -himself to the sweet shade of some friendly tree, and calmly, though -rudely it may be, philosophises upon the vanities which dazzle other -eyes and bedizzen other heads, but never soften the bed of the grave, -nor promise repose beyond it. He knows that heaven is not to be -purchased by the fleeting things that charm the eye and gratify human -vanity, and the harmony of his spirits is never broken up in conflicts -to possess them. Happily the dial of time moves on, never too slow nor -too fast for him, and his even temper keeps him in a perpetual calm. -Unmoved by the discord around him, he remains content in his solitary -leisure, or quietly takes his ease with his companions, furnishing a -worthy illustration of genuine and perfect freedom. Even Tully himself -could not look upon that man as properly free who had not the privilege -of sometimes doing nothing--a privilege rightly appreciated and justly -exercised only by the loafer. - -As Peter was indulging in these and like reflections, the vision upon -which he gazed, and which had occasioned them, suddenly vanished. -The rustling of the leaves had aroused him from his slumber, and -behold! all had been but a dream. Rubbing his eyes and collecting -his wandering thoughts, the only realities that greeted his returning -senses were the hot sun above him, whose burning rays, no longer -arrested by the shadow, which had gradually moved in another direction, -had for some time been illuminating his countenance, and the unpleasant -recollection that the village and his home were still several -miles distant. To have his dreamy fancies thus dispelled by such a -disagreeable transition, at some other time, might have urged him to -the exhibition of no little ill-temper; but now he had enough to occupy -his mind in reflecting upon the diversified visions of his dream. These -he reviewed again and again, until unable to submit any longer to -that itching desire which so often disturbs the ease of poor mortals -when they imagine they have something interesting to communicate, he -arose and slowly commenced the exceeding great labor of walking to the -village. He reached it at last, just as the sun was sinking into the -far west, and panting from the heat, more than from the exertion, he -again seated himself in front of the tavern. He had added greatly to -his store, and at once commenced to detail the events of his dream, and -from that day to this he has faithfully continued to narrate them to -every willing or unwilling listener. - - M. H. - - - - -CONCLUSION. - - -Although the editor cannot see the least necessity for informing the -readers of the “Records” that they have now reached the end of his -book, (a fact which they would so certainly have discovered without his -aid,) his reverence for well-established precedents would not permit -him to consider his volume fully completed without a “Conclusion.” -Those who have thus far perused it, must have observed that the -papers it contains were the products of intervals of time stolen from -the regular pursuits of their authors. This, however, though it may -be somewhat of an apology for the imperfections of the manuscripts -themselves, can afford no excuse for the editor. He fully acknowledges -his responsibility for all the faults of the book, well knowing that he -cannot be justified in thrusting it before a public already so terribly -afflicted with the dregs of literature, unless it shall contain -something to amuse or instruct. This reflection, at one time, overcame -his determination to send the manuscripts to the publisher. Upon more -mature deliberation, however, he blundered upon the conclusion, that -if this be not, in fact, the age of literary mediocrity, our people -have so much indulged it that it has, in its bold effrontery, risen -to a premium and obtained greater “success” (to use a publisher’s -term,) than ever crowned the highest talent. Where brave men had -failed, the coward often succeeded, and thus infused a boisterous and -overflowing courage into the whole army of little patriots, making -them as presumptuous and pugilistic as the saucy cur which thinks the -honor lies in attacking its superiors rather than in conquering them. -A similar cause, it may be, has produced like effects amongst authors, -and the editor is by no means certain that it has not been instrumental -in emboldening him to send his volume forth upon its voyage. However -this may be, he can now only bespeak for it the treatment which the -reader may think it deserves--nothing more. He might perhaps have made -better selections from the stock on hand, but he is not certain that -this would have added to the attractions of the book. He can only -promise, that upon the success of this volume of the Records, depends -the fate of the rest--whether they shall be given to the world, or -remain in the murky receptacles of the Old Association. - - -THE END. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - -In a few cases, obvious errors in punctuation have been corrected. - -Page 29: “and especialy with such” changed to “and especially with -such” “Impelled by an irresistable” changed to “Impelled by an -irresistible” - -Page 46: “by the irresistable teachings” changed to “by the -irresistible teachings” - -Page 50: “and Montagne observes” changed to “and Montaigne observes” - -Page 86: “fully ackowledged the devil” changed to “fully acknowledged -the devil” - -Page 96: “we rightly understaud” changed to “we rightly understand” - -Page 104: “of their native cotemporaries” changed to “of their native -contemporaries” - -Page 155: “nor cooly exchange” changed to “nor coolly exchange” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OAK SHADE, OR, RECORDS OF A -VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Oak Shade, or, Records of a Village Literary Association</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Maurice Eugene</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 11, 2022 [eBook #67605]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OAK SHADE, OR, RECORDS OF A VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION ***</div> - - - - - -<h1><span class="small">THE</span><br /><br /> -<span class="big">OAK SHADE,</span><br /><br /> -<span class="vsmall">OR</span><br /><br /> -<span class="small">RECORDS</span><br /><br /> -<span class="vsmall">OF A</span><br /><br /> -<span class="small">VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION.</span></h1> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001a"> - <img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative parallel lines" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0"><span class="small">EDITED BY</span><br /> -<span class="big">MAURICE EUGENE.</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img001b"> - <img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative parallel lines" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 p2"> PHILADELPHIA:<br /> -<span class="big">WILLIS P. HAZZARD,</span><br /> -<span class="small">178 CHESTNUT STREET.</span><br /> -<span class="big">1855.</span> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center p0"> Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by</p> - -<p class="center p0"> ALEX. C. BRYSON, (for the Editor,)</p> - -<p class="center p0"> In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, - in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="right p0 p2 small"> ALEX. C. BRYSON, PRINTER, <br /> - 141 Chestnut Street. -</p></div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#DEDICATION"><span class="smcap">Dedication</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_5">5</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_9">9</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#HANS_DUNDERMANN_THE_DUTCH_MISER"><span class="smcap">Hans Dundermann: The Dutch Miser</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_11">11</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#AN_ESSAY1"><span class="smcap">The Wisdom of Preserving Moderation in Our Wishes</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_43">43</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#THE_SICK_MOTHER"><span class="smcap">The Sick Mother</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_53">53</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#THE_EXCELLENCIES_OF_LYING"><span class="smcap">The Excellencies of Lying</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_75">75</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#THE_ALCHEMIST_OR_THE_MAGIC_FUNNEL"><span class="smcap">The Alchemist: or, The Magic Funnel</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_87">87</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#AN_ESSAY2"><span class="smcap">The Beauty of a Well-Cultivated Heart</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_123">123</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#THE_DREAM_OF_A_LOAFER"><span class="smcap">The Dream of a Loafer</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_133">133</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> -<a href="#CONCLUSION"><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_213">213</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="DEDICATION">DEDICATION.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>In this age of prolific intellects, neither author nor editor is -compelled to search for a patron of letters amongst a horde of -illiterate and conceited noblemen, addle-pated princes and lords; nor -is he, in this progressive country, constrained to beg the favor of -some distinguished demagogue’s name to give caste or currency to the -lucubrations of his brain, or the compilations of his industry. This -may be regarded as a very favorable change in the times, yet it is not -without its inconveniences, which the editor has fully experienced. -Not being bold enough to violate a well-established precedent, and -send his volume forth into the world without a dedication, he was for -a while sorely perplexed in his inquiries for a proper person to whom -to inscribe it. Although modern progress could freely dispense with -the patronage of the nobility, it still retains the practice which -perpetuates their former importance in the literary market. Thus the -author who is too cautious to trample upon a time-honored custom, is -frequently no little embarrassed in his laudable efforts to observe it, -not having an array of aristocratic vanity, ever ready to be redeemed -from its insignificance through a lying dedication, from which to make -a choice to please his fancy.</p> - -<p>True, the editor might have determined to send his volume adrift under -false colors, by writing some imaginary creature’s name upon the -title-page, and then dedicated it to himself,—for which, no doubt, -he could have found precedents enough.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> After giving to this idea -the careful deliberation to which it was entitled, he came to the -conclusion that no better expedient could be devised to provide him -with an even disposition; for should he hear his name noised about by -every fool and knave, who are always so vociferous in their praise -or censure as to overrule entirely the worthier opinions of the wise -and honest, his temper would never fall below the seething point. -He therefore wisely avoided, in this wilful manner, to hazard both -his character and his happiness. “But,” he hears you ask, “had he no -rich and flourishing acquaintance, who would gladly have permitted -the inscription, and verily believed it a great honor?” He is not so -fortunate (or unfortunate, if you please,) as to be without at least -a score of the kind; but not one of whom would have failed to degrade -his book, through a cursed propensity “to turn everything into a -speculation.” Then, too, he might have dedicated it to some personal -friend, but upon looking around, he could see none whom he particularly -desired to own as such, except a few poor fellows with whom he -occasionally whiles away an entertaining hour on a gloomy Sunday. -Amongst these, however, he recognised none whose poverty,—than which -few things sooner fall under the ban of the world,—did not seem too -heavy a burthen to be borne by so unpretending a production.</p> - -<p>In this dilemma, his benevolence, perhaps a little influenced by the -thought that the man who reads his book is his best friend, came to his -aid, and he at once concluded that it should be generously and freely</p> - -<p class="p0 center">DEDICATED TO THE READER.</p> - -<p>He is not impelled to this by a design to propitiate the favor, to -influence the judgment, or to moderate the criticisms of any one, -but simply and solely by the charitable desire of pleasing all. He -thus provokes no one’s envy by showing more favor to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> another, and -gives to each the opportunity of having a book dedicated to himself. -Lest, however, the editor should furnish but another illustration of -the maxim, that “they who seek to please all, will surely succeed in -pleasing none,” it is here carefully set down—that should any not wish -the distinction sought to be conferred upon him in this dedication, he -may rest well assured that it was not in the least designed for him. -With this happy disposition to accommodate all, he has only to ask of -the reader, that his book be not consigned, before ascertaining what -it is made of, to some murky closet, to keep company with the dusty -and decaying volumes already imprisoned there; and for the faithful -observance of this request, he subscribes himself,</p> - -<p class="center p0"> -Most respectfully and sincerely,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Reader’s wellwisher and friend,</span></p> -<p class="right p0"><span class="smcap">The Editor</span>. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>If it has been established as a precedent that every book should have -a dedication, it has been more imperatively enjoined that none should -make its appearance without a preface. These are matters of punctilio -which it might appear ill-breeding to neglect, and constitute the soft -and easy civilities through which books find favor in the eyes of their -readers. As no one is disposed kindly to welcome the rude boor who -intrudes into his presence, and without a polite nod or pleasant smile -at once encounters him with rough speech, so none is inclined to enter -upon the perusal of a volume without first knowing somewhat concerning -it.</p> - -<p>Now, it is only necessary for the editor, in the discharge of his -trifling duty, to inform the reader that sometime ago the records of an -old association came into his possession. The precise date when this -junto was formed could not be definitely discovered, yet it has been -certainly ascertained that it was gifted with a very peculiar kind of -life—surpassing, in the tenacity with which it adhered to existence, -the nine lives ascribed to the cat. Though it had been defunct, to -all appearances, more than a dozen times, it was as often revived to -flourish again for a brief period. Not many years have elapsed since -it received its last blow; but whether this has given it the final -quietus, being neither a diviner nor prophet, the editor cannot decide: -yet he is inclined to the opinion, that if those of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> present -generation will do nothing to restore it to life again, their rising -posterity will not suffer it to sleep in peace.</p> - -<p>It was the design of this organization to unite the useful with the -amusing, and each member was required to furnish his quota of the one -or the other. The consequence was that a large number of papers were -collected together, some of which are now “for the first time given to -the world.” Whether the world will do them the honor to value them, -remains to be seen; yet the editor flatters himself, that in the deluge -of literature which this age is incessantly pouring forth upon the -poor reader, they will float along with the endless array of small -craft, and perhaps his book may prove as successful as some others in -contributing its just portion to produce the wreck and ruin of some -better and worthier production.</p> - -<p>The Magi of Persia were at one time the depositories of learning. -With us the people are the Magi, and although their unaccountable -tastes and Quixotic fancies have heretofore elevated into note the -effusions of many a fool who experimented upon their discrimination, -and permitted the productions of some very wise men to sink into utter -and irredeemable oblivion, the editor still trusts—if not to their -judgment, then (which may be safer for him,) to their good-natured -indulgence. He is fully aware that his book contains nothing above -their comprehensions, and is not in the least apprehensive that they -will condemn the <span class="smcap">Records</span>, as an old council did the <i>Petit -Office</i>, because “<i>signo</i>” was spelt with a C instead of an -S: much less does he fear that his freedom will be endangered for the -reason which prompted the same council to arrest the Prince de la -Mirandola, because “so much learning in so young a person could only be -acquired by a compact with the devil.”</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span class="smcap">Maurice Eugene.</span><br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, <i>March 26, 1855</i>.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_MANUSCRIPT">A MANUSCRIPT,</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">PREFIXED TO THE FOLLOWING TALE, AND SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY -THE SECRETARY OF THE JUNTO.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The author of the following paper vouches for the correctness of the -whole story, having himself received it from the person who enacted the -part of the spirit therein. When it was read at our meeting, a large -number of listeners, who had been enjoying themselves in promiscuous -conversation, were seated around the table in a cheerful circle. -Although some were at first inclined, perhaps more from a habit to -find fault than from a displeasure at the tale itself, to cavil at and -doubt it rather than to be amused, there was an honest and bewitching -humor in the face of the speaker which alone seemed to entitle his -story to full belief: so that by the time he had finished it, but one -or two continued serious, whilst all the rest at once agreed that it -was creditable in every particular. Whether they were not influenced to -this conclusion more through their mirth than their careful judgment, I -could not well ascertain; yet I am disposed to think, they merely meant -to “take the story for what it was worth.”</p> - -<p>An old gentleman now advanced, who had not only been careful all his -life long to avoid the frivolities of the world, but who had also -experienced some of its rough realities, if true inferences were -deducible from his care-worn appearance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> thread-bare garments. -Not satisfied with what had been read, the old man gazed inquiringly -into the speaker’s face, and then so overwhelmed the poor fellow with -troublesome questions, that he resolved from that moment never to -read or narrate another story, without previously demanding a solemn -pledge from his auditory that they will remain content with what he -may choose to give them, and under no circumstances trouble him for -further explanations. Whilst thus pelted with the old man’s queries to -his great relief a smiling little gentleman stepped up, and turning to -the questioner, told him that every story would be spoiled by too much -minuteness in its narration; that wherever he found a blank he should -fill it up with his own fancy, otherwise he would experience nothing -but annoyance; and that the moral of the tale he had heard, simply -warned him against too strong a love for worldly things,—a warning for -which I could see no necessity in his case,—so that if he should ever -be tempted by spirits or ghosts, he might avoid the alarming fatalities -which so seriously afflicted poor Hans Dundermann.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span class="smcap">S——y.</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HANS_DUNDERMANN_THE_DUTCH_MISER">HANS DUNDERMANN: THE DUTCH MISER.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>One of the most foolish and deplorable passions that could possibly -influence the conduct of men, is that wretched penuriousness so -frequently encountered in our intercourse with some of our fellows. -We often find it the object of hatred and contempt, of disgust and -ridicule, and even of a bitter malice which, if not just, seldom -secures censure or elicits rebuke. We rarely see it exhibited to a -very marked degree in men of substantial intelligence or liberal -experience in the socialities of life, and its generous interchanges -of friendship. When discovered in such, it is usually the part of -discretion to avoid, if possible, a close intimacy with them. The wider -range of their knowledge, and their greater sagacity, though rendering -them less contemptible, only make them the more dangerous. It not -unfrequently, however, constitutes the ruling principle of those not -possessed of a superior order of intellect,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> and whose ideas of life -are measured by the narrow aims for which they contend and struggle. -This may, perhaps, be greatly owing to the fact that wealth consists of -material things, which they can readily see and appreciate; whilst the -riches that pertain to mind and heart, not being directly visible to -them, are beyond their comprehension.</p> - -<p>I have a German acquaintance who resides in a small village at which I -occasionally sojourn, and who is known by the euphonious nomenclature -of Dutch Hans Dundermann. Whether this be the name he lawfully -inherited from his paternal ancestors, or whether certain peculiarities -of which he is remarkably possessed, and which are by no means well -calculated to render him an agreeable companion, or make him a -desirable neighbor, can claim the credit of having obtained for him so -musical an appellation, the villagers have not yet been able positively -to determine. However he may have acquired this title of recognition, -which can be matter of small consequence to the present generation of -the villagers, and much less to their rising posterity, he is one of -those inveterate misers who have no scruples to check their desire -for acquisition, and whose parsimonious propensities invariably incur -general ridicule and displeasure. Whatever of good may be in their -compositions is totally overshadowed by the sordid motives which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -usually govern them, and thus they always prove successful in arousing -the disgust of all with whom they may come in contact. This miserly -element in Hans Dundermann’s character is so exceedingly prominent that -it is supposed to counterbalance and control his entire nature. It is -constantly urging him to the commission of acts which his neighbors -readily construe into heinous offences, and it has accordingly earned -for him no very enviable reputation. To describe to any one acquainted -with him the height of petty and disgusting meanness, it is only -necessary to use his name in the adjective form; and the attempts to do -so are not unfrequently even more ridiculous than the subjects which -occasion them. Hans, however, though he may exert himself to increase -his store, if not absolutely lazy, is not free from the slowness of -his native race; to which he adds a stupidity so excessively Dutch, -that scarcely anything beyond the glitter of a coin can make the least -impression upon his mind.</p> - -<p>After thus briefly introducing my acquaintance in as favorable a manner -as circumstances permit, I will narrate a little incident in the -adventurous portion of his life, which occurred whilst he was yet in -the vigor of manhood physically, and intellectually no better off than -he is now. Time, which never progresses without making some changes, -has utterly failed to renovate or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> improve him. Whilst advancing years -have worn upon his bodily powers, apparently the only thing impressible -about him, experience has had no effect, either for the better or -worse, upon his mind, into which no idea, unless connected with his -ruling desire, seems capable of penetrating. A life so selfish, and -absorbed in the contemplation of one thing, and that by no means as -well intended to expand his intellect as to contract his heart, can -afford but little of adventure; yet the trifles which we sometimes -encounter in such a life, are so peculiar in their nature, or so marked -in their effects, that we welcome and enjoy them the more. They often -provoke our merriment or elicit our surprise, excite our admiration or -awaken our sympathies. The cold torpor which becomes natural to the -inactive man through the eternal sameness of his daily career, renders -him a fitting and interesting object for our gaze when he is drawn -into positions demanding the exercise of his energies. Whatever may be -the effect of the occurrences here related—whether their recital may -interest or prove tedious—they certainly constitute the most prominent -events in the life of my acquaintance, the Dutch miser of the village.</p> - -<p>A party of young men who had for years been in the habit of -congregating twice each week at the southern corner of the village -school-house, to review the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> gossip of the neighborhood and amuse -themselves with boyish sports on the pleasant play-grounds of the -scholars; or, by way of variety, occasionally to contrive some idle -mischief to disturb the equanimity of the usually quiet and industrious -villagers; at one of these frequent meetings determined to exhibit, -in some extraordinary manner, Hans Dundermann’s passion for money. -Various expedients were accordingly suggested, and duly discussed -and considered, until they finally resolved upon one supposed to be -capable of accomplishing the end in view. After levying a contribution -amongst themselves of all the antiquated coin they could obtain,—for -they wisely concluded that he could not be aroused from his accustomed -stupidity but through the instrumentality of such a token,—the sum was -secretly conveyed to him. This was accompanied by a very mysterious -letter, which purported to be the favor of some supernatural power. -It spoke of the coin as coming from an almost inexhaustible fund, and -generously concluded by fully recognising him as a judicious person to -be entrusted with the care and keeping of so valuable a treasure. As -was anticipated, this had a marvelous effect upon him. He straightways -connected it with a standing tale of the village, which he had heard -upon different occasions, and which had more than once greatly excited -his curiosity. It was a well-circulated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> tradition, (and what town -has not a similar one?) that many years before the village numbered -a score of substantial buildings, vast treasures were undoubtedly -hidden in its immediate vicinity. He had frequently heard how a wealthy -Englishman, at a time the date whereof was never definitely fixed, -had lived near the village in all imaginable splendor, and how he had -died without leaving even so much as a shilling to be found upon his -entire premises. This splendid gentleman (so runs the tradition,) had -been the descendant of a prominent English nobleman attached to the -house of Lancaster, who, when the Red Rose drooped under the terror -inspired by the triumph of the house of York, had gathered together his -estates, which of course were very large, and retired from the kingdom. -The union of the two Roses, which followed the extinction of the -Plantagenets, and the partiality exhibited by Henry VII. towards the -Lancastrians, never tempted him to return. The last of his descendants, -inheriting all his wealth, yet depressed by the death of friends and -connexions, eventually emigrated to America, and took up his abode near -the village. Here he revelled in all the luxuries that riches could -supply, and when nothing was discovered after his decease, the great -surprise of the villagers soon conjured up numerous tales of hidden -wealth, which have ever since been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> carefully transmitted to each -succeeding generation. It was with one of these that Hans associated -the mysterious epistle.</p> - -<p>After they had thus interested the miser’s feelings, one of the company -visited him on the evening of the following day. When brought into -the presence of Hans, he commenced a train of very vague remarks, -as though he had something important to reveal, yet seemed doubtful -whether it were better to make it known than to treasure the secret. -Confining himself to the subjects which he knew were ever uppermost -in Hans’ thoughts, he soon succeeded in drawing the miser into a very -animated conversation, which, however, was rendered somewhat uneasy by -his mysterious demeanor. From some cause or other, perhaps because he -was thinking of the matter at the time, for he had thought of little -else during the entire day, Hans immediately surmised that his visitor -sustained some connexion with the singular letter he had received. -This impression was not only strengthened more and more by every word -that fell from the stranger, but his very dress, which gave him the -appearance of a fashionable gentleman of the preceding century, seemed -to confirm it. When, however, his visitor introduced the general -carelessness of the world, a point upon which Hans had always been well -decided, and to which alone, he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> often said, was to be attributed -all the poverty in it, he became certain that his surmise was correct, -and watched carefully for something which might reveal the rich mine -referred to in that mysterious and treasured billet. When he had been -worked into a state of uncontrollable anxiety and excitement, the -stranger, still preserving his mysterious air, suddenly rose from his -seat, and rolling his eyes upwards in an agonized manner, preceded by -several terrible yawns, he rapidly repeated a few very singular words, -not found in Hans’ vocabulary, if in any other. This had the desired -effect, for it so surprised and stupefied the poor Dutchman that the -stranger, in the increasing darkness, readily made his exit unobserved. -After the miser had somewhat recovered from the shock occasioned to -his nerves and ascertained that his visitor had vanished, it was clear -to him that the stranger could not have disappeared as he had entered, -but must either have sunk through the floor or ascended through the -ceiling. Recollecting the supplicating manner in which he had turned up -his eyes, Hans quickly inferred that the latter was the course he had -taken, and under the exciting circumstances of the occasion, it was not -long before the inference became a conviction which has ever since been -most sacredly believed and maintained.</p> - -<p>Now, Hans Dundermann, it should be known, had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> frequently held -interesting conversations with Heinrich Speitzer and Yorick Bozum, -two of his most intimate friends in “vaterland,” and was perfectly -satisfied that ghosts and spirits had as real an existence as gold -and silver, though their presence was far less acceptable. He used to -listen to the stories of these tried companions, and tremble from head -to foot when he was told how the wicked Frederick Metzel, on a dark and -dismal winter’s night, had been claimed in pursuance of a contract, -attested by his own hand and seal, and carried off by the devil, amid -great lightning and thunder, to no one knew whither; for the place of -his abode was beyond the power of human discovery. It is true some of -his warmest friends, who had always been his companions, and enjoyed -his favors during his prosperity, and who had never neglected to -sound his praises upon every fitting occasion, now shook their heads -significantly and solemnly whenever his name was mentioned. This may -have been intended as nothing but an exhibition of their deep regret -for what they had lost, yet the uncharitable soon interpreted it -unfavorably for the future of poor Frederick, whilst the more humane -and hopeful remained silent, simply because they knew not what to say. -Hans still remembered how the spirit of old Herr Von Reicher, sorely -troubled because he had refused to reveal an important secret before -his departure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> from the lower world, returned to the home six months -previously left to mourn his death, and made known to the daughter -of his grand-child,—who had always been his favorite,—the cause -that prevented his rest. This was done by directing her to a dark and -almost impenetrable recess of his castle, where great treasures were -concealed, which he had hoarded up and frequently visited during his -life. Now, however, that he had no further occasion for such visits, -his sense of justice, which had never in the least troubled him -whilst living, would not permit him to deprive his friends, who had -so carefully attended to his dying wants, of so valuable a secret, -nor his creditors of the only means through which their demands -could be satisfied. Nor had Hans Dundermann forgotten how the son of -Karl Keiser, a pleasant companion with whom he had spent many hours -rehearsing wonderful tales, the accuracy of which he never doubted, -had been accosted in the rough woods, on a dark October night, by a -copper-colored man, out of the crown of whose head issued a constant -flame of fire, and led several leagues from home. What had been the -object of this singular and startling apparition—whether it had been -an evil spirit and intended the young man as one of its victims, or -whether it had merely meant to disclose some great and troublesome -mystery—had to remain undetermined,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> for day intervened and summoned -the vision to its abiding place. Many surmises were occasioned by -this strange affair, vouched for by the person himself whom it most -concerned; but the majority agreed in the opinion that no harm had been -intended to the young man, otherwise the spectre would not have waited -until daylight to be deprived of its prey: others expressed their -conviction that it simply designed to relieve itself of some serious -trouble, whilst there was still a third class who pronounced the matter -all a foolish tale, which owed its origin to too much Rhienish wine and -the cold winds of October.</p> - -<p>Whilst Hans was reflecting upon these marvelous stories of his youthful -wonder, and thus endeavoring to assist his mind in determining the -character of his late visitor, he gave evident signs of being engaged -in a new employment. Although he had heard many strange things in his -time, and often threw up his hands towards the skies, opened his mouth -as wide as nature permitted, and exclaimed “mein Gott!” in surprise, he -certainly had never before been called upon to decide whether any of -his visions had been a ghost or a spirit, a witch or the devil himself. -In this troublesome dilemma he resolved to consult his old housekeeper, -whom he had brought with him from Germany, and whose greater age and -experience, he hoped, might be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> capable of relieving him from his -perplexity. This indispensable article of his household seemed to have -descended to him with his father’s estate, and presented an appearance -even more than ridiculously Dutch; but Hans had been taught to regard -her as a pattern of good taste, and as she had always manifested the -strongest devotion to his interests, he never doubted her superior -excellence. To give a faint description of her would be no trifling -labor, for she had apparently been worked together by nature without -reference to form or proportion; and whenever seen, was invariably -covered with a superfluous amount of greasy calico, which seemed to -have no other support but a twisted chord that encircled her extensive -waist. Her head was remarkable for nothing but a large quantity of -light flaxen hair, to which the sun had failed to give a ruddier tinge, -although, as since her twentieth year she had scarcely ever worn a -covering, it had shone upon her pate fairly and with full effect for -more than thirty summers. Increasing age, though it had robbed her of -her teeth, put wrinkles in her face, and somewhat loosened her joints, -seemed to be equally powerless to make the least visible impression -upon it. The singular conduct of the stranger, who had been observed -but casually by the old woman as he had entered, was fully considered -and commented upon by her and Hans.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> Though she sympathized with him -as much as her nature permitted, and gave ample evidence of her desire -to render him all possible assistance, she could offer no suggestions -which tended in the least to solve the mystery. Her many exclamations, -however, if useless in the explication of a mysterious and difficult -problem, brought some relief; and thus consoled, he reluctantly -concluded to await the full development of what he believed had just -fairly commenced with the letter he had received and the visit of the -stranger.</p> - -<p>“Whatever this may forebode,” said Hans, “it is so very strange that we -must wait until the end shall come; yet I hope that my end may not be -like that of Frederick Metzel. Let me be spared the terrors that fell -to the lot of Karl Keiser’s son, and if the worst should come, let it -be no worse than that which happened to the great-grand-daughter of -Herr Von Reicher.”</p> - -<p>These remarkable occurrences, constituting some of the most startling -he had stored up in his memory, had been so repeatedly told to his -housekeeper, with great embellishments, that she had become perfectly -familiar with them. Although Hans did not much like to have dealings -with spirits; yet, had he been certain that the mysterious stranger -would never afterwards have troubled him, he would gladly have -entertained him once more, if assured of a revelation similar to that -made to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> youthful daughter of Herr Von Reicher’s grand-child.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” responded the old woman, whose frame trembled violently at -the supposition that calamities so terrible could possibly befall them, -“heaven avert such fatalities! Surely, Hans, nothing of this kind can -happen to us, for you have never had any intercourse with the evil one, -nor have you ever been closely allied to any of those poor creatures -whose spirits are not even permitted to rest quietly in their graves.”</p> - -<p>As he had thus, for several days been moved by strange thoughts, it -was observed by those whom he happened to meet that a very singular -change had suddenly come over him. His actions seemed to be dictated -by a variety of conflicting impulses, and the little mind he had once -possessed was absent more than half the time. He would make long pauses -in his conversation, abruptly change from one topic to another, and -occasionally, to the great amazement of those with whom he conversed, -he would walk off before he had half completed a sentence. Then, too, -he was frequently seen to stop in his solitary walks and engage in -earnest conversation with himself, a smile sometimes animating his -countenance, whilst at others he appeared very sullen and dejected. -On several of these occasions he was overheard to speak audibly of -spirits and treasures,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> which so greatly surprised all who heard -him that some even suggested an investigation into his soundness of -mind. To those acquainted with the design to play upon his stupid and -credulous nature, it was daily becoming more apparent that he believed -vast quantities of gold were somewhere concealed in the vicinity, and -that he was troubled to know where, and how he could secure them. At -length his changed demeanor became the subject of remark throughout -the entire neighborhood. Some of the villagers, in their efforts to -account for it, expressed the belief that his heart was beginning -to soften and that he was relenting of his former penuriousness—a -reformation which, in his case, it was generally conceded would have -been sufficient to account for his singular conduct. Others, however, -more strenuously maintained, that so far from his heart undergoing -so favorable a change, it was simply passing through the last stages -of ossification. That the former were mistaken in their charitable -surmises, was soon ascertained by an experiment eminently calculated to -arouse his generosity; but there are those still amongst the latter, -who contend that they were correct in their opinion, and are determined -to obtain positive evidence of the fact, upon the miser’s decease, -through the aid of an anatomist, who has already been duly engaged for -that purpose.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> - -<p>When it was supposed that Hans was exclusively abstracted in the train -of reflections suggested to his mind by the circumstances related, -it was deemed expedient for the stranger to venture another visit, -which he accordingly did. It so happened that he obtained admission -unobserved into the same room in which he had before met Hans, and -giving seven distinct raps on the old oaken floor, he was soon brought -into the presence of the miser. After the latter’s surprise had -partially subsided, and his face assumed something like its original -hue, the stranger commenced addressing him in a manner equally hasty -and incoherent, but Hans was all attention as if determined to absorb -the import of every word as it was uttered. He by no means comprehended -all that was said, yet he distinctly understood the request of his -visitor to meet him that night, at the hour of twelve, at the edge of -the wood bordering on the western extremity of the village, where the -important secret was to be revealed. The stranger had scarcely finished -this request, when he was seized with a violent cough, resulting from -a stream of munched tobacco which had unforbidden entered down his -gullet, as if offended at being imprisoned within his mouth whilst -personating a character whose dignity would not permit him to eject -it. Giving vent to an almost inaudible curse, which was unfortunately -mistaken<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> for a call for water, Hans immediately seized a pitcher, and -hurried out of the room, informing the old housekeeper, as he was in -the act of passing her in the kitchen, of the presence of the spirit. -Upon her reminding him that spirits were never in want of such earthly -necessaries, surprised at his own absence of thought, he dropped the -pitcher and quickly returned; but the stranger, no doubt glad of so -favorable an opportunity, had disappeared.</p> - -<p>Hans Dundermann, at the earnest entreaty of his old housekeeper, whom -I shall here name Malchen, not because she was so christened, but -simply out of solicitude for the jaw-bones of those who might attempt -to pronounce her ponderous title were it fully given, retired to his -bed at an early hour that evening. It has already been stated that -he desired no intimacy with spirits, and especially with such as -disappeared so unexpectedly; but his endeavors to banish from his mind -the request of the stranger were unavailing, and the tempting promise -which accompanied it would not permit him to close his eyes in sleep. -Impelled by an irresistible anxiety to secure the imagined treasure, he -arose from his bed, and walked up and down the room in great agitation -until within a few minutes of midnight. His love of gold, however, at -last succeeded in conquering his fears, so, seizing a German bible, -which had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> evidently grown antiquated by neglect amid dust and cobwebs, -and cautiously placing it in his capacious pocket, for he had often -heard that whilst he had so good a book about his person no evil spirit -could harm him, he repaired to the appointed spot. Here he had for -some time been intently peering into the dark wood, when suddenly he -heard a strange noise behind him, and upon turning he obtained a full -view of the stranger, who had taken the precaution to provide against -the prevailing darkness by a lantern, the red rays of which only gave -to everything around a more gloomy appearance. Hans involuntarily -startled and most heartily wished himself in his bed again, but it -was now too late. Gazing supplicatingly into the pale face of the -spirit, for he was fully persuaded that he stood in the presence of -a veritable spirit, he commenced imploringly inquiring about his -personal safety and the prospect of securing the treasure. His appeal, -however, failed to draw a word of consolation or encouragement from -his supernatural companion who simply indicated by a sign that silence -had to be observed, and pointing into the uninviting wood signified to -him to move on. Tremblingly the miser proceeded, frequently staring -wildly around. Whether it was all imagination, or a fancy which had -some substance for its basis, he certainly thought, upon passing -several large trees, he saw odd<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> figures behind them. However this -may have been, a death-like silence was maintained, nor did Hans seem -inclined to break it after his first rebuff. At length they arrived -at a small old building, which, though it was not many miles from his -residence, he had never before seen. All now surrounding him was dark -and strange, and he gazed upon the structure with mingled emotions the -like of which he had never before experienced. Whilst endeavoring to -collect his wandering wits during this momentary halt at the antiquated -building, an unearthly howl was suddenly set up around it, which so -frightened him that he at once attempted to test what virtue there -was in his heels. Alas! poor Hans! His knees knocked together and his -frame shook so violently, he could not move. He was as much a prisoner -to his terror as the chained criminal in his cell. It was now that -the solicitous advice of his faithful Malchen came rushing upon his -memory, and he deplored the folly which had caused him to disobey it. -His regrets however, it is believed, were more owing to the wealth he -had left behind him than to his having disregarded her good advice, for -he began to apprehend that he should never see it more. During this -interval of his great consternation, the spirit had remained perfectly -calm and composed; and after the noise had entirely subsided it again -exhorted him to silence, and softly whispered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> into his ears that -the place was surrounded and protected by numerous imps of the devil -who had been commissioned to guard the treasure. Though many before -Hans’ time may have been in equally close contact with some of Satan’s -extensive brood and felt no fear, and although he had spent nearly all -his days in executing to their master an indisputable title to himself, -he found no consolation in what the spirit had told him. If he was -inclined to render service to Lucifer he preferred doing so at a more -convenient distance from him.</p> - -<p>Without any visible intervention of the spirit, at least such is -the testimony of Hans Dundermann, an opening into the cellar of the -building now appeared. Here he was bidden to enter, which he did more -through fear than inclination, attended by his mysterious guide. The -red glare reflected by the lantern, gave the place a very solemn and -haunted appearance, and made the old walls resemble more the neglected -ruins of some venerable edifice, than what they purported to be. They -had evidently been built when masonic skill was in its infancy and when -huge, substantial clumsiness was the fashion. He surveyed the cavern, -for such it appeared to him, with wild respect, confident that this had -once been the retreat of the Englishman whose memory had so long been -perpetuated in the traditions of the village. What was next to befall -him, now that he was entirely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> at the mercy and in the power of the -spirit, he could not divine. He was carefully watching its movements -as it walked around the cellar, cautiously treading the damp ground, -until it came to a stand, and beckoned him to approach. Here, then, he -ascertained, was hidden the treasure which had so much engrossed his -attention, and caused him so many perplexing thoughts. His fears now -yielded to the first flushes occasioned by the almost certain assurance -of securing the hoarded gold. Thus animated by the promising prospect -before him; his recent regrets were entirely forgotten, and he felt -pleased and proud that he had left his bed for so bold and profitable -an adventure. His anxious anticipations, however, were not to be so -easily gratified as he had at first imagined. The wealth he coveted was -still a considerable distance under ground, but this, to him, appeared -but a trifling obstacle. He had often handled the pick and spade for -a paltry price per diem; and now, that a great reward was to be the -issue, he could use them to advantage. The requisite utensils were -soon supplied by the spirit, and Hans squandered no time in commencing -vigorous operations. Though a veritable Dutchman, he entirely lost -the Dutchman’s slowness upon this memorable occasion. He relied more -upon energetic effort for success than upon tedious perseverance -and plodding patience, and the soft earth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> was made to fly in every -direction. The excitement of the employment soon brought back his usual -complexion, and gave his plump face a greasy and shining appearance; -when off went hat and coat, and every other article of apparel which -generally encumbers a Dutchman whilst at labor. He was now too intently -engaged to pay any attention to the spirit, which made its exit from -the cellar unnoticed and unheeded.</p> - -<p>For some time all continued quiet, not a sound being heard beyond -the noise occasioned by himself. He was making rapid progress and -congratulating himself upon soon reaching the expected bounty, when -his pleasant reflections were suddenly disturbed by another terrible -and unearthly howl, much resembling that which had before so greatly -excited his fears. In its hollow re-echoes through the cellar it was -rendered even more terrific. The spade dropped from his hand, and -turning round in his bewilderment, he now first discovered that the -spirit had abandoned him. Although he had previously most heartily -desired it to leave him and permit him to find his way home again, he -now regarded its disappearance as ominous of ill. Alone, with nothing -but a credulous and excited imagination for his guide, he was made the -victim of a thousand unpleasant impulses, and realized all the dread -horrors of unrestrained fear. His face became deathly pale and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> big -drops of cold perspiration stood upon it, whilst his hair rose on end -and his eyes dilated and literally sparkled. For a time, as he stood -the impersonation of terror, he was unable to comprehend his position, -but with returning reason he applied himself to diligent search for -the opening through which he had entered. Every nook and corner was -quickly examined, but no means of escape were discoverable. Although -that awful howl subsided almost simultaneously with his dropping of -the spade, he could not approach the spot where he had been digging -for the treasure without hearing it again. Had not the spirit told -him that the place was guarded by the imps of the devil, and how -could he be expected to withstand them? Had not Frederick Metzel been -carried off, notwithstanding his resistance, and never heard of more? -Oh, Malchen, this for neglecting your anxious and wholesome advice! -All these reflections, and ten thousand others no more comforting -in their nature, passed rapidly through his mind. The thoughts of a -life-time were now crowded into a few of his minutes, and a volume -could not give a faithful transcript of the many marvelous stories -that spontaneously rushed through his brain. When the devil seemed -determined to prevent Luther from prosecuting his work, the Reformer -seized an ink-stand and hurled it at his head. Though the missile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -had little effect upon the object at which it was aimed, being simply -dashed to pieces against the wall, upon which the black marks are said -still to remain, the tormentor nevertheless vanished. Hans could not -deal thus summarily with the great adversary, who happened to have no -small claim upon his miserly soul, ready for settlement at any moment. -Debtors, and especially those indebted to Satan, are obliged to be more -courteous. He was therefore compelled to yield to an influence which -his more devotional countryman had only overcome with great difficulty. -All ideas of obtaining the treasure were accordingly abandoned, and -imprisoned as he was, his first great care was to effect his release. -How this was to be accomplished he knew not, as he more slowly and -carefully re-examined the old walls, with lantern in hand, escaping -only the place where he had so faithfully dug for the hidden wealth. -That he could not think of approaching, for he now distinctly and -unmistakeably saw a half grown imp seated upon the fresh earth he had -thrown up, who was eyeing him in no very complacent manner. Hans has -since described him as the very image of a picture in one of his German -books, which he had often contemplated with feelings of melancholy -dread, and which had equally often puzzled his brain by the thoughts -invariably suggested to his mind whenever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> he beheld it. He never could -divine the real policy of tolerating the existence of such hideous -monsters; and, perhaps more influenced by personal considerations than -feelings of charity for mankind in general, he had frequently most -heartily wished their utter extermination and the total annihilation -of their constantly increasing kingdom. The puny devil before Hans’ -eyes was undoubtedly a legitimate offshoot of the parent stock. He -had a large two-pronged fork in his right hand, and in his left he -held one end of a strong chain, whilst the other was fastened to his -body, so that its great bulk had to trail upon the ground. His long -tail, pointed like an arrow, and erected several feet above his head, -appeared even more formidable than the fork. His posture much resembled -that of an old man, seated upon a low stool, his stiff legs drawn up -towards his body. He was almost entirely covered with rough, brown -hair, and the bristles upon his head pointed in every direction. There -was a fiery glitter in his eyes, and the expression of his countenance, -according to Hans’ description, could be handsomely counterfeited by -compounding together the faces of a grinning monkey and a fat Dutchman.</p> - -<p>At last, fortunately, Hans Dundermann thought he discovered a prospect -of delivery from his torments. Not possessing the magic power of the -spiritual guide that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> had led him into this horrible prison, the walls -could not be expected to part at his simple bidding, and he therefore -wisely determined to test the virtue of more natural means. Seizing the -spade, he made a number of vigorous thrusts against the substantial -masonry, which, though it resisted his efforts for a considerable time, -was eventually compelled to yield him a passage, through which he could -escape. Thanks! he was now once more in the open air and breathed -again! The devils set up another howl, as if in exultation, and several -seemed to be slyly approaching him; but Hans, relying upon his nether -limbs, which appeared to have derived strength for the occasion, -hurried off with remarkable rapidity. Not content, however, with having -prevented him from obtaining the treasure, the whole pack of imps now -followed close upon his heels, crying his name at the top of their -voices, but this only increased his speed the more. No obstacle seemed -a hindrance to him. Dark as it was, he scaled the rocks, and stones, -and stumps, in his leaps, as on he flew, leaving those in pursuit far -behind. There was no manifestation of the tardy Dutchman in that chase, -as he pursued his course for miles, not knowing whither it led and -feeling little inclination to pause and consider. When, at last, he -came to a stand, lo! the veritable spirit which had enticed him into -the wood stood at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> his side and was calmly gazing upon him. Hans shut -his eyes, but it was still there. Drawing in his breath, he bolted in -another direction with a speed that outdistanced even this supernatural -vision, but led him far from his home. Hatless and coatless, he -eventually seated himself upon the earth, determined to await the -approach of day. Though he knew not in what locality he was, nor how, -lost in the wood, he should find the village again, he was yet consoled -by the reflection that he was free from the clutches of satan and his -imps. The terrors of Karl Keiser’s son had been nothing in comparison -to those he had endured.</p> - -<p>When morning dawned,—and never had Hans Dundermann more welcomed the -approach of day,—he betook himself to the difficult task of searching -for his home. His venerable housekeeper had been thrown into great -consternation upon discovering his absence. Not knowing whither he had -gone, or what had become of him, her fears at once made her conclude -that he had shared the sad fate of Frederick Metzel, and been carried -off by the spirit during the night, as a terrible punishment for having -neglected to meet it as he had been requested. She now reproached -herself for having obtruded her advice upon him, but to make amends, -she told the matter to her neighbors, and search was immediately -commenced for the lost. He was not discovered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> until the succeeding -day, and when brought to his residence to the great delight of Malchen, -gave a narration of his adventures which alike astonished the credulous -and amused the doubting.</p> - -<p>Those who heard it at once determined to investigate the matter, and, -if possible, obtain the treasure and make a general distribution of -it amongst themselves. Hans now had the entire neighborhood at his -heels, many fully believing his entire tale and looking anxiously for a -portion of the spoils; others following from sheer impulse, not knowing -what to think or say; whilst others still were led on by curiosity -to see the end of what they simply believed to be a foolish vagary -of a distempered brain. He was but a sorry guide, however, and after -vainly searching for the old building to which he had been led by the -spirit, he gave it as his settled conviction that the imps must have -removed it, leaving no trace behind that it had once existed, lest -they might experience too much difficulty in preserving the wealth it -contained. The conclusion was a wise one, and if it taught nothing -more, it at least illustrated the remark of a learned Genoese, that -“miser’s worship no God but money, and will deny even the very faith -they profess rather than fail in schemes to augment their treasures.” -However faithful servants of satan they may be, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> knows that they -would betray even him to gratify their desire, and understands them too -well not to place his possessions beyond their wily clutches, in which -he is certainly more judicious than many mortals.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -T. D. -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="REMARKS1">REMARKS</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The succeeding essay was read before the Association, and appears, from -the following prefatory remarks, to have been the production of one of -its committees.—<span class="smcap">Editor</span>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Your committee, simply from the want of a new theme, have been -compelled, even at the hazard of proving tedious, to confine -themselves to an old one. The many extravagancies daily exhibited by -those around us might perhaps afford more matter for ridicule than -admonition, but few are willing that their follies should be made the -means of amusing others, whilst none will object to a little kind -advice, though he be determined not to heed it. We therefore concluded -that the latter mode of treating our subject, if the most stupid, -would still possess the merit of being the least annoying. Then, too, -stupidity having become a common quality, in which each is privileged -to deal, a sacred right not to be denied without closing the mouths of -more than nine-tenths of the world, our dullness can be no trespass -and consequently needs no apology.”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_ESSAY1">AN ESSAY.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">THE WISDOM OF PRESERVING MODERATION IN OUR WISHES.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Life runs best on little: nature’s store</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Can make all happy that will use their power.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the extended range of our wishes and their diversified -character, the reflective man will recognise one of the greatest -sources of human misery. The many desires which impel us affect alike -the mind and heart, frequently disturbing the healthy repose of the -one, and rendering the other cold and selfish. The illusory nature of -life and its schemes, and the changing influences which ever surround -us, seldom permit us to attain the most moderate aspirations of our -youth. Through the lively impetus constantly given to the imagination -during that period of life, we are prone to devise certain plans and -arrange magnificent schemes to accomplish our desires; yet the weight -of years steals upon us gradually, until we look upon the past but as -a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> long chain of circumstances, and our present life and condition as -its result. One by one our determinations, however long and fervently -cherished, pass away unrealized; whilst our sanguine wishes, with their -ardor perhaps somewhat abated through the influence of experience and -the cool meditations of riper age, still remain ungratified. He who had -contrived and contemplated schemes to amass wealth, and then retire -to repose amid the comforts and luxuries of the world, may linger out -a life of toil and poverty in some humble hamlet; he who had longed -to ascend the steeps of science and gather in abundance its noble -treasures, may feel the admonishing wrinkles upon his brow even before -he has made one permanent acquisition; and he who had encouraged dreams -of ambition, and courted the uncertain plaudits of fame, may die at -last forgotten and unknown.</p> - -<p>Moderation in our wishes is as rarely witnessed as their realization. -It was an argument with the Cynics that absence of all want was the -natural condition of the Gods, and therefore he who stood in need of -but few things most resembled them. The remark ascribed to Taxilles is -admirable and philosophic, “What occasion is there, Alexander, that you -and I must needs quarrel and fight; since you neither came to rob us -of our water nor of our food, which are the only two things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> that men -in their wits think worth contending for?” The idea of the Cynics is -rarely exemplified in human life, and the moderate desires expressed by -Taxilles equally seldom infuse into men the modest wishes they suggest -to our minds. <abbr title="saint">St.</abbr> Cyprian, and others before and after him, distributed -their possessions amongst their fellows, reducing themselves to -poverty. If all cannot admire the wisdom of their action, certainly -none can find anything in their motives to condemn. They who have -thus mastered their selfishness and avarice, two vices sufficiently -powerful to destroy many of the nobler virtues, have obtained a command -over themselves more desirable than wealth or distinction. They have -conquered impulses whose end not unfrequently is agony of mind and -destruction to all the sensibilities of the soul; they have subjected -their wishes and tamed their desires to encounter the vicissitudes of -life with philosophic calmness.</p> - -<p>The present pleasure may pass away into oblivion, or it may leave -a permanent sting behind; and yet it is for this that extravagant -wishes leap into being and expand to the limit of possibility, or to -the extent of our comprehension. The diviner philosophy which teaches -us the vanity of our desires, and the vexation of spirit attending -even their full gratification, is neglected until forced upon us by -the irresistible teachings of experience.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> The most excellent lessons -of virtue are treated with indifference to further imposing schemes -for riches, for fame, or for power; yet the one is not attended by -peace of mind, the other brings no quiet comfort to the soul, and the -third fails to realize happiness and contentment. The flatteries of -friends and sycophants which follow you in each, only fill your face -with frowns and your heart with loathing and disgust. The wealth of -Crassus, the Rich, brought him neither contentment nor protection; the -distinction of Pompey could not brook the rising glory of his great -rival, and but provoked his malice and his envy; the power of Cæsar -only increased his ambition, which continued to prey upon his soul -and in his longings for the crown it became his own avenger; and the -flatterers of Canute but made him feel his insignificance and aroused -his contempt.</p> - -<p>The wish for distinction and renown, however, may not only be blameless -in itself, but when restrained within proper bounds, highly honorable. -There is a medium between ambition and a total neglect of reputation -as hard distinctly to define as it is difficult to practice. Few have -known how to follow it, and many whose wishes were at first confined to -the rule of a town, afterwards aspired to empire. History even refuses -to agree with Cicero in according to Cæsar the credit of having, at -the beginning of his career, devised and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> pursued a definite plan to -subvert the Roman Commonwealth and elevate himself to the tyranny. -None would add to the infamy of Marius or Sylla by supposing that -the first aspirations of either were for absolute power. When it is -remembered how difficult it is to be restrained within this medium, it -will not appear strange that so many should have overstepped it, often -to the great injury of themselves and more frequently still to the -great affliction of the people. If our wishes be prompted by motives -to promote the public good, they may justly acquire the title of -patriotism; and when, in addition, they are so wholly under our control -as to enable us to assume the command to-day and renounce it to-morrow -should the interests of the country require it, we are eminently -qualified for every sphere or position in the Republic. Frederick, -the Elector of Saxony, refused the crown under the impression that an -Emperor more powerful than himself was needed to preserve Germany; -and the humble Cincinnatus found more repose and pleasure in the -cultivation of his little fields than in the exercise of power or the -trappings of wealth. Unlike the treacherous decemviri, when the duties -of his high positions had been performed, he meekly resigned them again -to seek the approving smiles of his Attillia and the content of his -humble home. These are examples with which history does not abound, and -whatever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> credit we may accord to their deeds of worth and valor, we -yet see more to admire in their generous humility and the noble command -they constantly reserved over themselves.</p> - -<p>It is a small matter to wish for virtue, yet a more worthy desire never -entered the mind of man. Virtue is the highest of all treasures, and -however rarely it may be seen, is neither beyond the reach of any nor -above his comprehension. The high and low, the prince and the peasant, -are alike possessed with the power of attaining it. All the greater -excellencies of nature are free and within universal reach. It is the -remark of an old philosopher, that “many people, without having their -reason improved by study, live nevertheless in a manner conformable to -the dictates of right reason;” and Montaigne observes that the life of -the peasant is frequently more agreeable to philosophy than that of -the philosopher himself. This wish is none the less ennobling because -its answer is within universal reach. It is even more rarely realized -than desires for wealth or power, and is infinitely preferable to -either when attained. There is nothing in nature more useful, for what -evils does it not avert? It renders us impregnable to the stealthy -encroachments of vice; relieves us of all selfishness, guile, and -hypocrisy; robs us of all malice,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> deceit, and treachery; frees us -from the gnawings of envy, the miseries of hate, and the slavery of -passion; delivers us from the bondage of avarice, ambition, and the -remorse which so frequently attends them; and fits us not only to think -of but to do “whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, -whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever -things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report.” It is no less -permanent than it is useful. We scarcely know which most to admire, the -cool indifference of Phalereus, or the tribute which he pays to the -durable nature of virtue, in his reply, when told that the Athenian -people had thrown down and destroyed his statues: “Well, but they -cannot overturn that virtue for the sake of which they were erected.” -It is a noble companion for every sphere of life, teaching us how to -wear, with just humility, the honors we may acquire, and how to submit, -with becoming dignity, to the reverses of fortune, the treachery of -friends, and the persecution of enemies. Under its guidance, the world -is seen in its true character, and our duties towards it discharged -with forbearance and charity. Without it, none can be truly great nor -truly happy. With it, all may obtain a just share of human happiness -and contentment, and each secure for himself the noble tribute which -history has paid to Epaminondas, a higher<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> eulogy than ever yet was -acquired through the realization of the grandest schemes for wealth or -glory: “<span class="smcap">He was a man adorned with every virtue, and stained by no -vice</span>.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="EXPLANATORY">EXPLANATORY.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Good men live twice: it doubleth every hour</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To look with joy on that which passed before.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>The author of the following paper, having himself witnessed and heard -what he has attempted to detail, merely designed to attract attention -to a rich resource of pleasure inherent in every good man. To him who -has carefully kept himself free from dishonor, and whose life has never -been marred by the stains of vice, there is nothing so happily adapted -to beguile the hours of solitude as reflections upon the past. Seneca -calls the “unmoved tranquility of a happy mind, a great reward.” He -who has so lived as to obtain it, whatever his present condition, may -always find in his own thoughts the purest enjoyment, perhaps realizing -in this healthful exercise of the resources within him, that there is -much more of reality than fancy in what Iamblicus has said: “We must -take this as a certain truth, that nothing properly evil shall happen -to a good man, either in this life, or after it.”</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span class="smcap">M. S——g.</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SICK_MOTHER">THE SICK MOTHER.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>I have never sat by the sick-bed of a mother without finding gradually -stealing over me a deeply melancholy and impressive feeling. Nature -has so constituted the human mind as to render it susceptible of -an infinite variety of emotions, and made it so expansive in its -grasp as to enable it to contemplate everything within the boundless -universe. However finite it may be, there is nothing of which it -cannot think; and although there are many things which it fails to -understand, they all inspire some feeling or awaken some emotion -within the invisible recesses of our nature. The many truths of which -we know, and the countless beauties mirrored before our eyes by the -imagination dwelling upon uncertainties and doubtful probabilities, -often give rise to a variety of sensations so powerful as to hold -us spell-bound. The deep springs of the heart, frequently hidden to -our comprehension, are ever flowing for our enjoyment. Of this I was -recently reminded, in a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> impressive manner, by being ushered -into the presence of a mother, who had, for three successive years, -been confined to a sick-bed. The information of her sore affliction -suggested a train of thought, and prompted a number of reflections, -the recollection of which will forever abide fresh in my memory. -She was yet young, and notwithstanding her many trials, exhibited a -vigor of mind and a freshness of heart seldom discovered in the most -healthy and buoyant. The knowledge of her prostration for years, in -the prime of her life, and when possessed of all the impulsive desires -and sanguine expectations common to those of her age, saddened me to -sickness as I first entered her apartment; but upon discovering her -genuine animation, her beauty of heart and sprightliness of mind, my -feelings alternately changed from sadness to surprise, from surprise -to veneration. How many pleasures, thought I, had I enjoyed during the -past three years! How had I, watching the changing seasons, relished -the many delightful things each of them had brought forth! In the -mellow sunlight of the morning, I had drank in the beauties of the -earth; and in the sweet twilight of the evening, I had reaped the -richest bounties it afforded. I had daily sported with my friends, -many of whom had never felt a wish unanswered, yet still remained -unsatisfied; I had played alike with the young and old with an -intensity of interest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> that touched every chord of the heart; and -I had felt the ecstacy of a variety of joys, whilst the vigor of -uninterrupted health but spread out before me all that heart could -wish, or soul desire. There were our glorious winter parties, where -kindness, friendship, and love, ministered to our wishes; gleeful rides -over the silvery snow, cozily muffled in furs, and almost buried in -robes, our exuberant hilarity rising high above the jingling music of -the bells; summer meetings beneath the shady branches of the willow, -in the downy meadow; and moonlight strolls with cherished companions -all around us, and loved ones leaning tenderly on our arms. We had -our social enjoyments in all their diversified characters; our many -exhibitions of the noblest intellect fraught with the golden treasures -of study; our seasonable round of vivifying concerts by the highest -talent in the wide world; our splendid and attractive operas, with -all the more and less refined amusements which the age required to -make up the sum total of this never satisfied and insatiable human -life. Whether in door or out, we found all that could be desired to -make existence pleasing, and attach us the more firmly to it; yet here -was one who had none, or few of these things. Chained down within -the narrow compass of her bed, her ill destiny had denied to her the -pleasures of the world without. How could she endure it? Would not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -her heart wither for want of food, and her mind perish for lack of -stimulants? Nothing in the least approaching to this was perceptible. -She ever seemed the happy spirit that could rise above the afflictions -of fate, and over which no misfortune could cast a cloud of despair.</p> - -<p>In conversation, she spoke of the world with a knowledge and a heart -that would have persuaded you she constantly moved with the busiest -portion of it. She was fully aware of the condition and employments of -her friends, enjoying their sports and amusements as much, apparently, -as though she was participating in them; and often, with her own -delicate hands, she had prepared some trifling and expressive thing, -which told how much she wished their happiness. There was no complaint -in her, nor could you force repining regrets upon her. Her answers to -your queries were always the same in sweetness and resignation, and -such as might almost have led you to think she preferred her condition -to one of health, and its attendant pleasures. It is true, she did -not conceal that, at first, her situation seemed indeed terrible to -herself, yet principally from one cause, which never ceased more or -less to trouble her. She had a young and devoted husband, and she -regretted more for his sake than her own, her incapacity to mingle -in the social spheres of life, and thus afford him enjoyments which -were denied him in her condition. Her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> selfishness, if she ever had -any, was changed from herself and directed towards him, upon whom she -would have conferred every merit or good quality she possessed, had -she had the power, and many more, if possible, and regarded the task -the most delightful she had ever performed. His very desires and aims -of life had become her’s, and I believe she would have suffered any -personal inconvenience or sacrifice to have gratified him in them all; -his troubles and vexations, by some strange and inexplicable influence -of sympathy, she had invariably succeeded in removing from his mind, -and placing in their stead a new and more exalted vigor: in truth, he -had never felt a regret, a pang, a trial, however trifling, in which -she had not participated, and which, by some mysterious balm distilled -by her own sympathetic heart, she had not contributed to remove or -obliterate. If, however, she shared so much in his sorrows, she partook -none the less of his joys. His happiness was her own; his successes and -his triumphs were her’s; and the just rewards of his ceaseless labors, -deservedly elevating him in public esteem, were even more gratifying -to her than to himself. In his honorable elevation, she beheld her -personal advancement, and in the brightness of his reputation, she felt -additions to her own. When his aspirations had been realized, she had -experienced a gratification superior to his, and when he had attained -a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> point through assiduous effort, the acquisition afforded mutual -pleasure. Thus entering into his very existence, she deplored her -affliction more from a desire to promote his happiness than from any -wish or anxiety for personal gratification and enjoyment.</p> - -<p>The apartment occupied by her was neatly fitted up and arranged with a -view of making her situation as comfortable as possible, and evidences -were not wanting of the generous sympathies of her friends. Whatever -was supposed capable of affording her a moment’s cheerful amusement, -or of lessening the tedium of her constant confinement, was supplied; -and the innumerable attentions bestowed upon her bore ample testimony -of the esteem in which she was held. Her acquaintances seemed really -to be vieing with each other who could do most to attest the good -wishes entertained in her behalf, and the many expedients invented to -gratify her, well exhibited the magnanimous ingenuity and skill of -their authors. How highly did she appreciate this kindness, and how -enthusiastically did she speak of it! To hear her, was to forget her -afflictions, and partake of her grateful and joyous feelings. She had -often exclaimed, in the fullness of her heart, that she could wish -for no more; and indeed, turn where you would, you could see nothing -but tokens of sympathy and love, which the stricken soul alone can -fully know how to cherish.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> Then, too, she had a little bright-eyed, -prattling boy, the best and happiest in the world, she would say. -With him she would play for hours together, and pet him with tender -caresses, attesting the power of her motherly affections, and evincing -how much she treasured him. In his gleeful gambols, she would watch him -with ineffable fondness, and his infantile freaks elicited emotions -which she would not have bartered for the world. Next to her husband, -her boy was her greatest earthly idol, and a stay which, though tender, -made life, however afflicted, a boon that filled her heart with -gratitude.</p> - -<p>Whilst seated in her apartment, in conversation with her, her husband, -with whom I had spent many of my youthful days, and once taken a long -excursion through several provinces, entered, without observing me, -and, walking to the bedside of his wife, he tenderly embraced her, and -then sat silently down before her. I fancied I saw a tear glistening -in his eye, and I never was more moved to pity. How much I had been -mistaken, and how misdirected had been my compassion, I was pleased to -ascertain soon after. As I was upon the point of addressing him, she -cast a look upon him so sweetly soft and gentle, that, once seen, it -could never be forgotten, and smilingly said,</p> - -<p>“Come, Charles, be more cheerful and communicative. Let me know what -has been astir within the past few<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> hours since your return. You -certainly do not appear to be displeased, and yet you are not disposed -to be talkative.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing has in the least ruffled my temper, I assure you. I am as well -contented with myself and the world now as ever, and would not so belie -the home of my friend as to cause a supposition that my visit to him -had rendered me dull and gloomy.”</p> - -<p>“What, then, makes you so silent? I have noticed your quiet moments, at -times, heretofore, without being able to divine their cause, and you -have never been pleased to make it known.”</p> - -<p>“That was because I thought your own heart knew it, and felt it: but -as I am in the mood, I shall endeavor to tell you. You are well aware -that there are periods when the heart speaks more in silence than the -tongue could possibly express—when a momentary pause reveals more than -the talk of a day could unfold. I know you have sometimes found your -feelings too powerful for utterance, and in silent thought permitted -them partially to subside before you ventured to speak and break the -spell that enchained you. Nature has so constituted those capable -of genuine love, that, whilst feeling the influence of so sacred an -affection, their ecstacy should not be disturbed even by the pleasures -of conversation. The strength of this passion, at times, overpowers -every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> other impulse; and though it may then enforce silence, it only -does so to enable us to enjoy the more the rich treasures of our own -hearts. Depend upon it, such moments wear the touches of angels, and -furnish us with the sublimest idea of the enjoyments of heaven that -can be realized in the present life. Their recurrence cannot come too -often, nor can they be retained too long, when present, for they are -our choicest blessings.”</p> - -<p>If ever, thought I, a wife had been answered to her heart’s full -satisfaction, this sick and helpless one was in the present instance. -It was now her turn to become silent, and changing her position, -I obtained a full view of her animated countenance, from which I -inferred that the words of her husband had penetrated into her soul -to be secretly treasured there. My position had already become too -embarrassing to allow me to remain silent any longer; so, rising -from my seat, I advanced towards him, and was about offering an -apology, but he overwhelmed me with joyful greetings. Upon his -pressing invitation, I was prevailed upon to remain with him and his -family until the succeeding day, and thus I was favored with ample -opportunities to witness the disposition of the sick mother, and enjoy -her conversations. For this, though I never much liked a sick room, I -afterwards became thankful; for I felt that I had, in rehearsing the -many exploits I had had with her husband, opened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> new sources for her -enjoyment, whilst I likewise learnt a lesson of the human heart which I -can never fail to hold in remembrance. Upon one occasion, in entering -her apartment, I found her affectionately playing with her boy, and -remarked upon the pleasure she must experience in the possession of so -fine a plaything.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, sir,” said she, “I have my amusement with him. Day after day -I thus while away many an hour, which might otherwise be rendered dull -and tedious, so pleasantly that I scarcely note its passage.”</p> - -<p>“Without him,” remarked I, desirous of ascertaining how so long a -period of confinement could be endured, “time would, no doubt, hang -heavily upon you, and your sources of comfort and pleasure be much -diminished?”</p> - -<p>“Since I have become accustomed to the many gratifications he has -brought me, I can scarcely endure his absence for a single day. Though -he is not my only source of comfort and amusement, to lose him would be -a most terrible affliction.”</p> - -<p>“How,” continued I, putting the question direct, “could you tolerate -this long confinement, and yet retain your youthful glee? I should long -since have perished from utter despondency.”</p> - -<p>“It was not so easily done,” was her answer, whilst a pleasant smile -lighted up her countenance, “yet I made every effort to maintain my -spirits, and with the kind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> assistance of all around me, I happily -succeeded.” After speaking of the many kindnesses of her friends, and -the constant devotion of her husband, in so animating a manner that -I could not help fully sharing in her feelings, she continued: “If I -cannot move with the busy world, I constantly hear of it, and often -think of it. To appreciate and feel its pleasures, it is not always -necessary that we should actively participate in them. The heart and -mind are the seats of true enjoyment, and the occurrences and events -of busy life can only be pleasing as they harmonize with the one or -the other, whatever may be your condition. There is no joy, unless you -reach them by the right direction, and no pain, unless you approach -them wrongly. The measure of happiness depends more upon the manner -in which they are made to move, than upon external causes. They are -likewise mighty sources of comfort and amusement within themselves. -I had lived happily for a number of years, partaking of all the -enjoyments my tastes suggested, or opportunity presented; and since -confined in this room, I have again and again lived over my former -life. Every incident has been reviewed, even from my infancy to the -present hour. This retrospective life, if I may so denominate it, -is very singular, and withal, very pleasing. The pure pleasure of a -good action is often little experienced whilst you are performing it, -but felt most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> keenly after it has been done. At times an occurrence -makes you tremble with affright whilst beholding it, and when your -momentary terror has subsided, its ridiculous nature convulses you with -laughter. I have known men to fret, and scold, and swear, for entire -days at the inconveniences that beset them, and when safely over their -difficulties, sit down and detail them again and again with the most -heartfelt merriment. I remember having once encountered a traveller, -who was so provoked at the miserable condition of the road, and the -cold winter weather, as very audibly to wish the company in a much -warmer locality more than fifty times during the slow journey; yet, a -few days after, I met him comfortably seated before a cheerful fire -with a friend, whilst tears of unrestrained laughter rolled down his -cheeks, as he rehearsed this part of his rough experience. Such are the -effects of a combination of the past and the present upon the mind, -and so is it with this retrospective life. That which caused pleasure -once, or made you joyful and merry, will always renew the like emotions -whenever you think of it; that which truly enlisted the feelings of -the heart at one time, will never fail to do so again whenever you -ponder upon it; that which in any way seriously affected you once, will -continue to do so as often as it may be brought to your remembrance; -and the recollection even of many of those things which you would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> fain -have averted or avoided, may prove objects of gratification. Think of -this, if you please, and by directing your attention more studiously -and carefully upon the past, experiment for yourself, and you will -find that the soul’s impressions are not perishable. Examine the hours -gone by, and you will discover for your future old age beauties which -your present youth cannot fully comprehend or justly appreciate, and -sources of enjoyment scarcely known to you now. Nature has so ordained, -and most charitably and wisely, that each day passed in active, -vigorous youth, should provide for the quiet amusements of age—that -the pleasures of one period of life should happily be productive of -delights for the other, instead of being felt but for the moment and -then forgotten forever.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt, madam,” remarked I, “you are very correct in what you have -said; but to be compelled by necessity, at an age like yours, just -properly adapted for active participation in the affairs and pleasures -of life, to resort to such means of enjoyment, can scarcely be supposed -to place you in so happy a condition as that which you have assigned to -old age.”</p> - -<p>“You may, perhaps,” continued she, “be partly right, but you are -much more wrong. Short, comparatively, as has been my life, it has -furnished material enough for an age of thought, and by using it I -have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> again and again felt the pleasures of the soul. Then, too, this -was not a dream life, the idle vapors of which could be dispelled by -a sudden transition to reality, for there was nothing in it that had -not, at one time, been really seen and felt. It was rather a life of -quiet and happy reflection. It is not a dream nor delusion to wander -back, by the marvellous power of thought, and take your accustomed -place once more at the social board of a loved and peaceful home, and -have again renewed within you the feelings of youth. It so resembles -the substantial truth that we can scarcely discern a difference, and -revives sympathies so pleasing that we involuntarily desire their -constant presence. The spirit ever retains its hold upon the past, -and the delightful hours of childhood, when we drank in the many joys -of our young and unruffled life, come back again to awaken the same -emotions that animated us then. The affections once more leap into -young and untainted existence, and we feel as guilelessly happy and -buoyant as in youth. No occurrence fails to re-enlist our attention, -but each trifling incident contributes its just portion to our -pleasure. How much we doat upon these things, and how fondly we cherish -them! There,” directing my attention to a neat little article, “lies a -trifling relic of one with whom I had spent many of my days in girlish -companionship. She no more walks the earth, for she sank quietly and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -peacefully into the grave, just as she was budding into beautiful -womanhood. She had done the work appointed unto her, and Death gathered -her to himself; but, though she is buried, I never gaze upon that -small trinket without calling up again her sweet image from its solemn -resting place to experience once more, perhaps more vigorously than -ever, the many pleasures we had enjoyed together. Here,” lifting up her -hand, “is a token of friendship which I need but gaze upon to revive a -variety of remembrances so pleasing that I would not exchange them for -the most valuable treasure. How well do I remember the day, the very -hour, though sad it may have been, when this tiny ring first encircled -my finger! It was an hour of parting between loving friends, yet not -an hour in which they forgot each other. Though far away, she still -remembers me as ardently as I retain my recollections of her, and the -many happy moments we spent together. Happily, however, it needs not -these material trifles to wrest from oblivion the incidents of our -lives. One after another we can breathe them into existence as often -as we will, through the powers upon which they have made an enduring -impression, and as they re-appear before us, the hallowed shadows of -substances once enjoyed, we become enchanted with their loveliness. -There is a beauty in this review of life, in thus living over again the -years gone by, that affords the richest comfort to the soul.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> - -<p>“Is it then,” queried I, “by thus asking pleasures of an active and -happy past, that you have maintained your freshness of mind and -brilliancy of spirits? In another, the same things would have caused -melancholy and desponding regrets, by exhibiting in contrast a hopeless -and pleasureless future.”</p> - -<p>“My future,” she pleasantly replied, “is not hopeless, but were it even -so, the consequences could not be so sad; neither will it ever be more -void of amusement than the present, which is full of enjoyment. It is -an old Spanish maxim, well suited to the temper of the Spaniard, that -‘he who loseth wealth, loseth much; he who loseth a friend, loseth -more; but he who loseth his spirits, loseth all.’ With so fatal a -loss, the mind sinks deep into despair, and the heart finds nothing to -cheer it. Our natural organization, however, is happily provided with -guards and barriers against it, and to those who are not permitted to -mingle in society, this retrospective life is the best and noblest of -them all. There is no reliable middle course in affliction, and if you -guard against the pressure of unfavorable circumstances, you not merely -avoid the dangers of despondency, but also increase your capacities -for enjoyment. Your heart will mellow and expand by sickness, and -whatever coldness or indifference characterized it, will yield before -the power of sympathy. The ill in your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> nature will be imperceptibly -destroyed, and the good remain standing alone. Where before you were -quick to censure, you will manifest generous forbearance, and even -positive injuries will be forgotten and forgiven. How well is this -state and condition adapted for a review of the past! Whilst it causes -you to extend friendship to those whom you hated, it attaches you so -closely to those whom you loved that your very being seems to become -blended with theirs. In your adoration of them, their lives are made -part of your own, and though they may not always claim an interest so -intense, they afford equal enjoyment. You ponder upon their adventures, -contrasting them with your own, and each separate incident affords new -matter for the employment of your thoughts. If, then, I have my own -life spread out before me, and the lives of those who are nearest and -dearest to me, have I not sources of enjoyment sufficient to do much -more than maintain my present spirits and buoyancy.”</p> - -<p>Thus she continued ever finding something to interest her mind, -and bring pleasure to her lively affections; whilst I felt pleased -with this happy manifestation of her well-trained disposition, and -found in it much to instruct. Here was one whom I had regarded as a -fit object for compassion, enjoying herself more than the vast mass -of humanity much better situated for enjoyment.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> All this, too, by -properly guarding and guiding her thoughts. Here was a commentary on -human happiness, showing how well we are adapted for pleasure, and what -sources of comfort we may be of ourselves. The deep and unseen springs -of sensibility and joy within us, thus made to gush forth at our will, -augur a higher and sublimer destiny. The crude philosopher, or the -still cruder sceptic, may doubt and deny, but still they will continue -to direct him to the imperishable testimonies of immortality. It is not -within us to believe, that the power which dictates and controls our -thoughts and our impulses, so tender that every impression made upon -it even in infancy retains its hold until the grave closes over us, is -destined to be forever obliterated. Even in life, it gives us evidences -of eternity. Should we live for countless ages, though the particles -composing our bodies might continually yield to decay and be replaced -by others, its own identity would be maintained, nor could we erase -from it the impressions of our childhood. No change in life can destroy -it, or move it from its directing and controlling sphere. Is it, then, -merely the unsatisfying mystery of an invisible element, endowed with -the capacity of preserving and summoning before us the shadows of -past beauties, though doomed itself to perish? Is it only a fleeting, -flickering ray, simply given to illumine our physical existence, whose -last flash<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> shall be forever extinguished when the nature to which it -was joined sinks before the rough contacts of earth, or slowly dies -out of its own infirmities? Happily, it awakens sweeter thoughts, and -inspires higher hopes. Its brightness is not like the passing lustre of -the moonbeam, receding behind the first murky cloud that floats across -its path, but may be made to shine only the more brilliantly through -the surrounding darkness. With her, whose afflictions and pleasures I -have faintly described, it was not a mere visionary creature, conjured -up by powerful imagery, and clothed with the devices of a fine fancy, -yet compelled to fall before the first truthful reality it encountered. -Following out its mission in truth, it is our faithful companion and -guide through life; and who shall deny it another sphere of nobler -existence, where it may never cease to feast upon the untold loveliness -of creation, and forever dwell upon the past, reviewing its own good -deeds with unabating gratitude to its author, and unending happiness to -itself.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_ANONYMOUS_WRITING">AN ANONYMOUS WRITING,</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">WHICH HAD SERVED AS AN ENVELOPE TO THE FOLLOWING PAPER.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The manuscript enclosed was found upon the desk of the Secretary and -read by permission. The author, perhaps to his own credit, cautiously -withheld his name. Though many inquiries were made without success, -I could not avoid ascribing its paternity to a young rogue near me, -who appeared greatly pleased with it; and after the reading, desired -the Junto to take the labor of reducing the practice of lying to a -science under its immediate supervision and protection. This imprudent -expression of his wish at once involved him in numerous difficulties. -It was looked upon as a very slanderous reflection, and the poor fellow -was so roughly handled that he not only gladly withdrew it, but himself -also, perhaps a little wiser than he had been before. His difficulties -no doubt impressed him with a proper idea of the value of discretion, -and certainly taught him that no matter how much men may be given to -evil habits, they are averse to having their faults paraded before -their own eyes as well as to seeing them exposed to the gaze of others. -They may be addicted to a disgraceful practice, yet ask them to avow -and openly protect it, and they will raise such a terrible clatter -about your ears that you are fain to withdraw as speedily as possible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_EXCELLENCIES_OF_LYING"><span class="small">THE</span><br /> EXCELLENCIES OF LYING.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“The art of silence and of well-term’d speech.” <span class="smcap">Old Poet.</span></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Of the many practices to which our people are addicted, and which -exhibit their progress towards the higher walks of civilization, there -is none more prominent than the habit of lying. Celius wrote of Pompey, -“he is wont to think one thing and speak another;” and we may say, that -amongst us, it has almost become difficult to decide, whether we act -upon the principle that language was invented to express our thoughts, -or simply for the purpose of enabling us to conceal them.</p> - -<p>I have an old friend who, adding to a mind accustomed to accurate -observation, more than fifty years of experience, frequently remarks -that he has never yet had half a dozen conversations with any person, -without detecting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> a falsehood.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna1"><a href="#fn1">[1]</a></span> It is well known that in our day it -is scarcely possible to bargain even with a saint, without discovering -him a liar; and I verily believe that had all who ever indulged this -habit been treated like Ananias and his spouse, the world would long -since have been depopulated. Fortunately, none are now so summarily -punished, or there would be a terrible “falling down and giving up -of the ghost.” For this generous forbearance, we may, perhaps, be -indebted to the superiority which we have acquired over these two -rude victims. We have certainly improved somewhat upon their example, -yet it must be owned that our progress in this habit has not been -commensurate with that made in the other improvements of the age. Some -of the fabrications of the Carthaginians and old Assyrians, noted for -their proficiency in this particular, were greatly superior to any -encountered in the present day. We have lost the ancient spirit, which, -it is feared, can only be revived by re-enacting some of the ancient -laws. For instance, in</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> -<p>Sparta, it is said, thieves were punished, not for stealing, but for -permitting themselves to be caught; the law-makers, no doubt, arguing -that the fool deserves severer chastisement than the rogue. Were the -same rule adopted now as to lying, it would soon close the mouths -of those arrant bunglers who so frequently provoke our ridicule and -contempt.</p> - -<p>Man was originally endowed with the power of clear and distinct -articulation, which, after some improvement, enabled him to convey what -ideas he pleased to his fellows. It is agreeable to all experience that -in using this excellent gift, he should consult his own convenience, -and he has accordingly introduced this habit of lying. From the highest -to the humblest, and from the gray-haired old man to his youthful -grand-child, all find it of use. The priest, the lawyer, the physician, -have rendered it a necessary part of their professions. Tradesmen and -mechanics have by no means neglected it, and some have made such signal -use of it, that we now look upon the sons of Crispin as comparable only -to a horde of Cretians, who, we are assured by excellent authority, -<em>were always liars</em>. The conveniences resulting from this practice -have ever been so very apparent, that its origin was almost coeval -with the existence of man; for one of our primitive ancestors, after -exhibiting his moral depravity by murdering his brother, was stupid -enough,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> when asked the whereabouts of the slain, to answer the -all-knowing questioner, “I know not; am I my brother’s keeper?” Since -his day it has been introduced into every walk of life, and is now -used without reference to the occasion—some being even so addicted -to it as to tell a lie when the simple truth would answer better. In -childhood we seek to avoid the rod by resorting to it, and when we -attain to years of discretion we find it convenient upon much more -trifling occasions. Does some intolerable bore intrude upon you, -you dismiss him to the digestion of a lie, and find pleasure in the -reflection of having done so. When an impatient creditor duns you, what -more convenient than a plausible falsehood? When an appeal is made -to your purse by some importunate borrower or beggar, you know well -how to answer him by an untruth. Should you get into difficulty, you -study what virtue there is in language, and use it to effect your end. -When an inquisitive wife pests you with her troublesome inquiries, you -have the example of an honorable Roman senator for telling her a lie; -and when you have broken a promise, why, you know well how to excuse -yourself by resorting to the same means that caused its violation.</p> - -<p>Knowing the great conveniences of this habit, and being masters of -our tongues, the fault lies with us if we cannot touch whatever chord -in the nature of our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> fellows that we wish to arouse. To attain this -degree of perfection, however, we should be properly schooled. Ever -since the times of Thauth, Hermes, and Cadmus, many have endeavored -to excel in efforts to reduce the gift of speech to writing, and to -regular rules and systems. Every variety of sciences, whatever their -pretensions, have so used it as best to promote their interests, -inventing new words, or assigning strange meanings to old ones, -whenever occasion required. It has been the great fountain and support -of every excellence of which we know, and the powerful medium of every -humbug that has heretofore cursed society. It may, therefore, appear -strange that no one has yet, for the great benefit of mankind in -general, resorted to it for the elements to establish, as a distinct -profession, the art of well and skillfully framing a falsehood.</p> - -<p>The schools of philosophy have settled it that men may lie. Whether -they have done so upon the strength of the bold opinion of the crafty -Lysander, that truth and falsehood are indifferent things; or upon the -comprehensive saying of Sophocles, “I judge no speech amiss that is of -use;” or upon the more designing maxim of the Spaniard, “tell a lie and -you will get out the truth;” or upon the anatomical principle of the -petit Prince of Bantam, which will certainly be admired by our modern -physiologists, “my tongue has no bone in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> it to make it more stiff than -is necessary for my interest;” it is not material here to determine. -Suffice it; that it has been so settled, and as our practices conform -to so enlightened a decision, policy would seem to require that they -be reduced to regular and systematic rules. It is true, some have -manifested considerable anxiety to secure for this habit a kind of -scientific distinction. They have accordingly had resort to the stars, -or if despairing of flights so lofty, the hand or a pack of cards -answered equally well to tell a fortune by. Though their plans and -schemes were sufficiently ingenious, lying itself could not endure -them. They could hope for no proselytes except amongst the credulous, -and even amongst those they could only gain such as believed there was -as much “pleasure in being cheated as to cheat.” Thus their efforts in -this excellent work, have not only been defeated, notwithstanding the -high encouragement they sometimes received, but if Euripides speaks to -the purpose, they themselves have been made to feel the consequences of -their mistakes:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“What’s an Astrologer? I thus reply,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A man who speaks few truths, but many a lie,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, when found out, he takes his heels to fly.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Perhaps their great failure is principally to be attributed to the -narrow defectiveness of the founder of their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> tribe. It is true, the -worthy man’s name has not yet been definitely ascertained, but then -this very ignorance has helped us out of our perplexities in searching -for it. The writers and critics upon Junius, when unable to discover -the author of the famous letters, very sagely conclude that he was a -man who had made himself acquainted with the affairs of his time, and -who was, withal, somewhat of a genius. So Voltaire has disposed of this -query in a very summary manner, by assuring us that “the first rogue -who met with the first block-head” was the inventor of soothsaying. -Whilst this conclusion has been generally accepted as a very -satisfactory one, it must be admitted that, though he may have been -an acute rogue, he was none the less an indiscreet one, or he would -not have attempted to confine this important privilege and practice of -lying within so exclusive a circle.</p> - -<p>There could be no lack of material in speech upon which to construct -a system of scientific lying. Perhaps, by applying to it a term -which has long since been banished from “ears polite,” on account of -its harshness, I may be accused of a want of interest in so noble -an enterprise. If so, I can only render as an excuse, that if lying -can claim any one merit more than another, it is that of having ever -maintained its own identity, no matter what efforts were made to -increase its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> respectability by titles supposed to be more delicate. In -this particular, it must be owned, it has always resembled its author, -who, whether known as Satan or Beelzebub, Lucifer or Pluto, is nothing -but the plain, common devil after all; and who, though you should call -him an angel, would be the devil still. Thus sacrificing no merit which -it can justly claim, the difficulties of reducing it to a science could -be easily overcome.</p> - -<p>An old maxim has it that “fools and children sometimes speak the -truth.” If “maxims are the condensed good sense of nations,” as -Sir James Mackintosh pithily observes, it would require excessive -presumption to deny the wisdom of this one, so universally received -and acted upon. The ancient moralists, after rearing a queer medley -of truth and nonsense upon a few wise sayings, pronounced the -heterogeneous mass the “Science of Morality.” This was at least -generous, for it must be owned that a more convenient appellation for -all who desired to sin according to moral law, could not have been -invented by their philosophic magnanimity. “It is in the creed, sir,” -would have answered every accusation, and put an end to all further -contention. “Know thyself,” and “Too much of nothing,” proverbial -sayings for ages, were so well received that the seven wise men of -Greece consecrated them to Apollo, and inscribed them in letters of -gold upon the door of his temple at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> Delphos. After so important a -precedent of respect to maxims, notwithstanding the many changes -wrought by time since the days of Thales and Solon, he who should seek -to reduce the practice of lying to scientific rules, might claim equal -consideration for the axiom given above, which he would of course so -interpret as to make all wise men liars. If the wisest and the best who -ever assumed the troublesome nature of man, could hang all the law and -the prophets upon two commandments, surely the modern man of science -might build a system upon a single maxim, whose object would be more to -increase the dominion of Satan than the glory of a different kingdom. -The service he would thus render to society would be incalculable, and -forever perpetuate his name as one of its most worthy benefactors. By -teaching the public, young and old, and without distinction of sex, to -lie according to an approved system, our contempt would no longer be -aroused by the fools now addicted to the practice, and who constantly -exhibit a stupidity only equalled by that of the first liar of whom -we have any record. Though we may have mules in the professions, who -only make work for keener and shrewder knaves, and blunderers in the -sciences, this should be no excuse for bunglers in this most worthy art -of lying. Such, however, could readily be got rid of by elevating the -habit to the dignity of a science, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> each should be permitted to -practice after being skilled in its rules. To secure the more general -proficiency of those who desired to study the system, it should be -made an indispensable antecedent requisite, that they be fully worthy -of their Prince, and as honest as the Lombardian sect spoken of in the -bull of Pope Adrian VI., who fully acknowledged the devil as their -head, and promised obedience to him.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -P. A. -</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn1"><a href="#fna1">[1]</a> <i>Note.</i>—The editor was at first inclined to believe that -this old man could never have been within the circle of good society, -but the developments of the times have removed this uncharitable -opinion. When one half, or more, of the independent lay people of -this country, together with perhaps one-third of the ministers of -the Gospel, (for such is the general estimate,) can voluntarily -connect themselves with a secret political organization, one of whose -principles is universally felt to be the worst species of lying, it may -not be long before it will be extremely difficult to find a man of real -truth.—<span class="smcap"><abbr title="editor">Ed.</abbr></span></p> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_PAPER">A PAPER</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">FILED AWAY WITH THE FOLLOWING TALE.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The tale of the Alchemist was related at our meeting to a concourse of -as drowsy listeners as I ever saw congregated around a cheerful fire. -The individual who related it, however, manifested a deep interest -in every incident of the story. Indeed, when he arrived at some of -the more startling and mysterious passages in it, he gave them with a -ghostly intonation of voice, slowly and cautiously, looking anxiously -around him to discover what impression they made. He exerted all his -powers to be interesting, and preserved a very serious air throughout; -which caused me to greatly suspect him as one of those easy-natured -creatures, who are ever willing to believe whatever they hear, without -troubling their heads for philosophic reasons, or permitting their -faith to be at all interfered with by measuring probabilities.</p> - -<p>After he had finished, it was soon ascertained that the story is a -genuine tradition, as faithfully believed by many as any chapter in -their Bibles, and certainly oftener thought of and repeated. Upon -being questioned, he replied that he had heard it from a number of -citizens of well-known veracity, and that to doubt it was regarded, -in the neighborhood where the events occurred, as the rankest heresy. -Then, too, he added, it has some strong points to recommend it to our -belief: it definitely disposes of several matters which would otherwise -be compelled to remain forever unsettled; it is old, and many have -heretofore<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> given it full credit, which should make us slow to doubt; -much of it is marvelous, and therefore incomprehensible, and what we -cannot understand it would be irrational to condemn or deny.</p> - -<p>This provided against every doubt, and left no other choice but to -believe or remain silent. The latter seemed to be generally preferred, -and the story was accordingly received as one of those strange tales -in which every town used to abound, and filed away as a part of the -traditional history of the village to which it related.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span class="smcap">S——y</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ALCHEMIST_OR_THE_MAGIC_FUNNEL">THE ALCHEMIST;<br /> <span class="small">OR, THE MAGIC FUNNEL.</span></h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In a small village on the banks of the Susquehanna, several miles from -the present location of the capitol of Pennsylvania, many years ago, -there lived a very singular individual known to the villagers by the -name of Felix Deford. He resided in a little log building at one end -of the village, and during the first year of his abode there, never -spoke over half a dozen words to any one of his neighbors. This strange -exclusiveness, in a community so small that each one not only knew -the other but was perfectly familiar with his most trifling habits -and pursuits, excited great curiosity, as could very naturally have -been expected. He at once became the subject of general conversation, -and various surmises were suggested in explanation of his conduct, -in the propounding of which the ladies were decidedly the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -prolific. This was owing, it was affirmed, to their naturally more -inquisitive dispositions; but, in the present instance, I am inclined -to believe that it resulted rather from their having been endowed with -feelings more tender and sympathetic than those of the opposite sex. -This opinion seems to derive great strength from the fact that their -conjectures generally agreed in assigning as the cause of his secluded -habits, some unfortunate occurrence that depressed his spirits, and -made him melancholy.</p> - -<p>It was indeed no little entertaining to hear the quiet and simple -villagers, at their gossipping meetings, discussing the case of this -mysterious stranger, for to them he was doubly a stranger, from -whatever view they might regard him. Though they occasionally saw him, -yet so far as social intercourse was concerned, he might as well have -been in China. During the first year of his residence amongst them, -notwithstanding their many efforts to effect an acquaintance, they had -not been able to ascertain anything respecting him beyond his name, -which he never manifested the least disposition to conceal. Whatever -advances had been made towards a closer intimacy he had invariably -repelled, but always in a manner, and with a modest and attractive -politeness, which only prepossessed those who had made them the -more in his favor. Instead of losing their interest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> in him through -the progress of time, their anxiety daily increased to obtain some -knowledge of his manner of life, if nothing more. As yet, no one had -been inside of his house since he resided in it, not even the rent -collector, upon whom all had looked as likely, at least partially, to -gratify them in this particular.</p> - -<p>On a warm evening in the month of August, a large party met at the -house of one of the villagers, when, as was usual at such gatherings, -the subject of conversation turned upon the queer habits of Felix -Deford. One fair young creature, who had once been favored with a sight -of him, gave it as her opinion, that not having heeded the judicious -counsel of Sophocles, “never let woman rob thee of thy wits,” his -hopes had been wrecked in some sad and unsuccessful love adventure. -In giving vent to her sympathies for the unfortunate Felix, she did -not refrain from denouncing the cruelty of some of her sex in a -manner which modestly intimated, that her own heart would never have -permitted her to send so devoted a lover as he must have been into -miserable exile. This was immediately taken up by a sharp-visaged, -hatchet-faced specimen of the ancient maiden lady, whose beauty, had -she lived ages ago, would scarcely have induced the most forlorn -Grecian gallant to pronounce her, in the expressive and complimentary -phrase of his time, “a virgin who gained oxen.” For<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> forty years she -had experienced the terrors of single blessedness, from what cause -she could not divine, which had by no means rendered her patient and -charitable. She unhesitatingly advanced it as her judgment, that his -conduct, if love had anything to do with it, resulted rather from -remorse of conscience for past offences than from female cruelty. -Examples of this kind were not wanting, and she herself had once known -a Frenchman the recollection of whose wicked amours so preyed upon his -mind that he voluntarily banished himself from the sight of men—as -severe a punishment, it was thought, as could possibly be inflicted -upon a Frenchman. An old lady here interposed, and related a story -of a melancholy individual, whose many deplorable mishaps had fully -convinced him of the ancient theory, that each one was born under a -good or an evil genius. It had been his direful fate to have been -ushered into the world under one of the latter kind. Whatever he had -been prompted to undertake, soon gave evidence that, however fickle -a goddess Fortune may be, to him she was ever constant: not that she -loved him, but merely because she was even more patient and spiteful -than an affronted Corsair. Nothing would prosper under his protection, -though he had been as watchful as a vestal virgin. He had frequently -envied the Grecian youth who, killing his step-mother in endeavoring -to hurl a stone at a dog, exclaimed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> “Fortune had a better aim than -I.” If luck had been half as favorably inclined towards him, some -fortunate accident would not so long have permitted a Fury in the -form of a termagant wife to have added to his troubles. After wooing -Fortune for a number of years to no purpose, he at length determined -at least to escape her frowns and punishments, if he could not share -her civilities; and therefore betook himself to the wood to adopt -the life of the anchorite. What became of him after this was never -clearly ascertained, but it was supposed his evil genius had found in -him too good a subject to be abandoned to the whining winds of the -forest. To this a young gentleman replied that he had good reason to -believe that Felix was not so much a fool. He at least gave evidence -of possessing more fortitude, judging from the manner in which he had -resisted the repeated and troublesome inquiries of the villagers. It -may be, suggested the young man, that he had come to the village from -mere love of a retired life; or, perhaps, being of studious habits, he -sought its quietude to prosecute his researches. Another one remarked, -that he had once known a very worthy and pious minister, who had been -so exclusively given to religious meditations, that he had often wished -for the most solemn privacy and quietude; and had it not been for the -sweet temper of his lovely wife and her happy efforts to interest and -cheer him, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> would inevitably have shut himself up in some dungeon. -An interesting young Miss, who had spent much of her time in reading -novels, now thought it her turn to venture an opinion, which she did -by drawing upon the extensive and valuable stock of stories hoarded -in her memory. She had often read of men, who, though they could not -transform themselves like Mœris, the magical shepherd, or become -altogether lycanthropic, yet abandoned human society to mingle with -wild beasts in forests and deserts, or in the darker recesses of cliffs -and caves. Having fixed their affections upon some object, their souls -became wrapped up in its pursuit and attainment, and when disappointed, -they could not withstand the revulsion of feeling that necessarily -followed, and therefore flew to solitude. Some of these, interrupted -the sharp-visaged elderly lady before alluded to, were no doubt driven -to such extremities through the excessive indulgence of evil passions, -through bitter regrets and remorse, through a deep sense of their -infamy, or to hide their shame whilst planning new villanies to be -practiced after the old ones had been forgotten.</p> - -<p>This proved an unfortunate interruption, and had a remarkable effect in -preparing the minds of the party for what followed. Under the influence -of a particular impression, we are often led to make ourselves -ridiculous, or to do that of which we afterwards seriously repent.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> -The ideas naturally prompted by the words of the last speaker, were -well intended to reverse the course of their remarks when aided by what -transpired immediately after. She had scarcely finished her insinuating -speech, before a new acquisition was made to the circle by the entrance -of a young man, a simple, good-natured soul, whose silly humors had -frequently afforded amusement to his more knowing acquaintances. He -reported that, having just passed Deford’s house, he heard a terrible -racket, and upon endeavoring to ascertain the cause, by placing his -head against the door, he became so much alarmed by the mixed confusion -within that he quickly hastened away. True, he had seen nothing, but -his ears had convinced him that the sounds were unearthly, and not -the voices of ordinary human beings. They were unlike anything he had -ever heard before, and then, too, they were accompanied by singular -groans and painful hisses, by the clatter of chains, and the jingling -of small sharp-sounding bells, and by a confused noise which much -resembled that occasioned by rapidly striking two pieces of sheet-iron -against each other. Such a formidable array of incomprehensible things -had not failed to make a very visible impression upon the countenance -of the young man, which, however, was only regarded as confirming his -tale. After this astonishing narration, though before there were few -in that circle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> who had not regarded Felix as an honest, well-bred -gentleman, there was little charity left amongst them, and indeed -much less sense. Their minds were now directed into another channel -of thought, and quite different causes were alleged as explanatory of -Deford’s habits—so sure are we to follow the lead of what is uppermost -in our heads, though we should be rendered the veriest fools for our -pains. Each of them now had some fanciful story to relate, and it -soon became the settled conviction that poor Felix had to be shunned, -for there could be no telling what mischief he might bring upon the -village. Some expressed their thoughts that perhaps he might be nothing -more than an escaped convict after all, or some despicable outlaw, -who was compelled to keep himself hid to avoid detection. Others had -heard of highwaymen and freebooters, after a long life of crime and -infamy, retiring to some private habitation quietly to enjoy their -plunder, and repent of their misdeeds at leisure: a practice now much -in vogue amongst lesser criminals, and highly honorable in refined -and civilized communities, though it was then little known to the -rude and industrious villagers. Others, still, had heard of those who -hunted up unfrequented and gloomy places to meet the hideous spectres -of the night in their peregrinations “up and down the earth;” whilst -a fourth even recollected individual instances of miserable wretches<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -resorting to hidden and secluded spots to hold communion with the evil -one. Certain it was, there were few now in that circle who were willing -to affirm that Deford’s conduct was the result of good motives or an -honorable career. The tide of opinion was turned against him, so sure -is an odd demeanor, sooner or later, destined to breed ill-thoughts in -those around us, and arouse suspicion. Curiosity hates to be baffled, -and when it seizes hold of an entire neighborhood, it becomes a -dangerous thing, and the discreet and judicious man will always avoid -it. Without a guide to govern and control it, the itching phrensy of -inquisitiveness is as limitless in its range as it is void of reason -and discretion.</p> - -<p>Whilst, however, the villagers had been moved to the highest degree -of anxiety to learn something more of Felix than simply his name, he -was no less curious concerning matters of quite a different character, -but which were of about equal significance. Unfortunately for him, he -was one of those deluded, so-called philosophers who have always had -their counterparts in all ages of the world; and who, despising simple -and common things, as a French commentator truly observes, followed -the lead of quaint fancies and cheating vagaries, even rejecting the -plainest truths unless they came invested with a charm to gratify their -desire for the extraordinary and marvelous. Every fantastic story of -ghost or goblin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> that had come to his knowledge, and every mysterious -witch transaction, had, to him, been important matters for study. He -had squandered many days in search of an antidote to decrease the -dominion of death, yet never attempted to wrest from its grasp any poor -victim of disease. “Was there not,” he would ask of himself, “a tree of -life in the garden of Eden, and if its fruit possessed the magic power -of imparting perpetual life, has nature lost the qualities and elements -of which they were composed? Are we not informed by the ancient Skalds -and Sagas, that the heroes and warriors of old, when pressed down and -enfeebled by age, repaired to the fair and beautiful Iduna, to eat of -the ‘apples of youth,’ and become young again?” To him, the efforts -of the Spanish voyager, Juan Ponce de Leon, in search of the mystic -spring, located, by tradition, somewhere amongst the sands of Florida, -a sip of whose precious waters imparted rejuvenescence, and secured -perennial youth, had been an enterprise so noble that better success -should have crowned it. Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastes Paracelsus -Honenhelm, after first pruning down his monstrous name to decent -proportions, which was, perhaps, the most sensible act he performed -during his life, became possessed of the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">elixir vita</i>. “If,” -thought Felix, “the foolish neglect of a careless and fickle world, -which not unfrequently throws away its greatest blessings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> or treats -them with contempt for long periods of time, permitted such important -knowledge to be entirely lost, the best, if not the only thing that can -be done, is to endeavor to restore it again.” Most excellent reasoning, -and practical enough for a better cause. How vast, how immeasurably -incalculable would be the results following the revelation of these -hidden mysteries, which formed but a trifling portion of the wonderful -and marvelous things to the investigation of which Felix had devoted -his life! The elixir of Paracelsus would effectually banish from the -world the innumerable nostrums now poured down the throats of the -public in torrents which threaten to supersede entirely the use of -nature’s beverage as a drink. The visitors to Florida would far exceed -in number and array the pilgrims to Mecca, or the deluded travellers -towards the holy waters of the Ganges. Fortunate Iduna! what a mighty -host of love-sick swains would woo thee! Who, then, would have reason -to lament over the terrible inroads of age? The pleasant and innocent -means now resorted to, with most commendable patience and perseverance, -to conceal its hated furrows and wrinkles, would be doomed to oblivion, -as things interdicted from human remembrance. The novelty of nature, -unadorned by such admirable arts, which many have been so anxious to -behold, would then be everywhere paraded to the popular gaze, and -habit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> would soon accustom us to its sight. Some inspired poet, then, -might sing a doleful requiem over rouge and pearl, and no loving -youth would be compelled to search a clear, unpainted, and unpowdered -spot whereon to kiss his lady-love. None, too, would then be moved to -re-echo the regret of Euripides,</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">“——That men should be deny’d</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gift of springing to a second youth,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A double age!”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>And what might not be the salutary effects upon the world’s morality, -for could</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“——We turn our steps, and tread again</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The path of life, what slips we once had made</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We would correct, and every cheating maze</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Avoid, where folly lost our way before.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Through these discoveries, so potent in their influence and wide in -their range, the world might possibly become stocked with a superior -order of men, and its wickedness cease to be a constant and an endless -subject of complaint. It would then be a delight to live in it amid its -general harmony and concord; and none would be made to appreciate the -feelings frequently expressed by a friend of mine, who always resolved, -whenever disgusted at the depravity now too common, to emigrate to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -some uninhabited island, and commence the world anew, in imitation of -old Adam, firmly believing that he could raise a better brood.</p> - -<p>Felix Deford, however, during his residence in the village, had been -more particularly engaged in other inquiries. The things which we -ordinarily encounter during life, were far too dull and stupid for -his ardent nature. He longed for something more extraordinary and -marvelous, and accordingly betook himself to search for it. He had wit -enough to know, that nature, so far as it is understood, has fixed a -certain, definite rule of government which had first to be surmounted -before the supernatural could be attained. This had been done long -before his time, and so very signally, that even the most wonderful -metamorphosis were wrought with perfect ease. Does not Pliny himself -affirm, and he certainly should have known, that the change of females -into males is not fabulous, and Montaigne assure us that he actually -saw a man who had once been a woman? Thanks, we should rather say -to Felix, that such magic powers are known no more; for in our day, -when women so madly aspire to man’s condition, the stock would soon -be entirely lost. Felix, however, apprehended no evil consequences -from such a discovery, for women would then be no longer needed, and -who, argued he, could suffer to be incommoded with them but for their -absolute necessity? Whatever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> dangers suggested themselves to his mind -upon this score, he rapidly dismissed, with the reflection that the -world was at no loss for inhabitants, and after a sip from the mystic -spring, or a slice from Iduna’s apple, the race would no longer require -replenishing, and could therefore readily afford to dispense with the -fairer portion of creation. If we contemplate with awe the ruins of -nations, ideas of whose imposing grandeur have been transmitted to us -for our admiration and wonder, and ponder with melancholy anguish upon -the fact that millions of human creatures were crushed in their fall, -what strange emotions, what terrible feelings, would not be inspired by -the total extinction of the most lovely of the sexes—the first honored -companion of solitary man in the sacred bowers of Eden! No, Felix; -no discovery, though it should be a secret passage to the gates of -Paradise, could atone for so sad a loss. Woman was the only instrument -of Godly mercy fit to shed a ray of sunshine upon the path of man when -first his race began. Though she caused him to go astray, she has done -much to repair her error. In the bright glory yet in reserve for her, -to calm and cheer the agony and despair of his last hour with the sweet -and exhaustless affection of her lovely nature, well will she redeem -the stain her impulsive confidence brought upon her angelic character.</p> - -<p>The realization of these unnatural powers constituted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> the dream of -Felix, and for this he had devoted his hours to magic in his solitary -study, which, to the view of a stranger, would have much resembled -the operating room of an industrious philosopher. Old, musty, and -neglected volumes, bearing ample evidence that they had undergone the -vicissitudes of many years, and suffered treatment too barbarous to -be entirely ascribed to the hands of studious and inquisitive man, -were piled promiscuously upon the shelves. Scarcely one of them could -boast an entire cover, and their black letter and roughly ornamented -pages presented a bold contrast to the volumes of the present day. -Around the room were seen numerous instruments, with now and then some -strange apparatus—things for which science had but few names, and -common parlance was a total blank. In one corner your eye met nothing -but crucibles, mortars, urns, pots, kettles, and cans; in another, -you beheld a variety of jugs, decanters, bottles, and vials; whilst -others contained a mass as indescribable as it was nameless. All, too, -bore testimony of having been frequently used, and emitted a repulsive -scent, sufficiently exhibiting that it required no very refined sense -of smell to detest the pursuit of an alchemist. The rules of neatness -and arrangement, however, were not neglected in all this confusion. In -the centre of the room a large circle was drawn, whilst the walls were -totally covered with odd signs, strange figures,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> and mystic devices. -Here it was that the magician employed his charms, and conjured up his -spells, and here the alchemist pursued his intricate investigations. -Here Felix had applied himself, with a devotion worthy of the greatest -commendation, to realize, by magic and alchemistic means, the dreams -of those deluded Germans whose fantastic theories, for so long a -time, had run away with the reason and good sense of their native -contemporaries, and eventually worked similar results in different -sections of the world. He longed to verify the fancies of Rosencreutz, -which had set many a man’s “wits a wool-gathering,” and made strange -fools of some of the cleverest, but too credulous, fellows of all -Europe and elsewhere. How happy he would have been in having been -brought into closer communion with his Maker, or made the companion -of noble spirits to whose wisdom he could have given the impress of -utility, and thus eventually succeeded in driving pain, disease, and -sorrow from the world! Had not the noted <abbr title="doctor">Dr.</abbr> Torralba a magic Zequiel, -apparently unlimited in power, to accompany him as his pledged and -faithful friend, and had not Naude’s “zenith and rising sun of all the -Alchymists,” the skilful Paracelsus, a spirit confined in the hilt of -his sword, and another imprisoned in a jewel? The famous magician, -Cornelius Agrippa, whose talents are attested by the great Erasmus and -the smooth and gentle Melancthon,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> did not only command the demons of -the earth and the spirits of the air, but could even break in upon -the repose of the dead, in the presence of whose greatness he would -have cowered during their lives, and summon them before him, clothed -in their accustomed habiliments! Though the tunic and mantle of the -ancient Grecian had been decayed for centuries, and his body consumed -by the devouring limestone which had composed his singular sarcophagus, -the dismembered particles came together again, and were compelled to -reappear at the powerful bidding of Cornelius. This wonderful knowledge -of the historiographer of the Emperor Charles V., and the author of the -“Superiority of the Female Sex,” to the great loss of the world, had -been permitted to perish with him, and perhaps forever. Though Felix -was industriously laboring to restore it again, and revive the marvels -of magic and alchemy, it must be acknowledged he was not exceedingly -well adapted for the task. Although he had energy and perseverance -to surmount every conquerable obstacle, he yet lacked two essential -elements—he possessed too much honesty, and not enough imagination. -Every pursuit requires certain qualities of mind and heart, and in -none have imagery and dishonesty more to do than in that in which he -was engaged. They are indispensable to success in such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> an enterprise, -and in both Felix was deficient. To speak the simple truth, there was -a limit to his madness. He was weak enough not to doubt the truth of -the superhuman exploits and performances ascribed to the masters in -the art, whose works he had diligently studied; yet not sufficiently -crazy to see unearthly visions appearing in answer to his charms and -incantations, when, in truth, there was nothing but vacancy before his -eyes.</p> - -<p>Combining the fanatical theories of Bohmen, with the more rational and -philosophic demonstrations of common chemistry, he would undoubtedly -have triumphed in his inquiries but for his deficiency in the qualities -alluded to as essential to the alchemist. Though he had dreaded a -search for the philosopher’s stone, that great marvel for ages, after -so many had failed before him; yet if Agrippa had so far succeeded as -to change iron into gold, though it was destined to be converted into -simple and worthless stone after one revolution of the earth, might -not an improvement be made which should render the metamorphosis more -permanent? Whether Agrippa had worked this wonder, which, indeed, -would have furnished the clue to all others, by the discovery of the -pebble for which so many had searched in vain, or through the direct -intervention of the devil, had always been a mystery to Felix; but he -had pondered upon it again and again, until it eventually brought him -to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> determination of summoning his satanic majesty before him. -Although satan had unquestionably proved himself a bad magician, if he -had been the instrument made use of by Agrippa, Felix believed this -was owing rather to his wily and treacherous nature than to a want of -power. This determination once fixed, he resorted to the best approved -arts usually employed in invoking demons and spirits, and such had -been one of his principal occupations during the latter period of his -residence in the village. He by no means desired their visits upon -mere terms of intimacy and friendship, but demanded absolute dominion -over them before compelling them into his presence. Justin Martyr, -and all the most ancient Fathers,—and certainly their statements -ought to be of great weight,—had too strongly depicted the horrors -wrought by bad demons who had visited the earth, for Felix to desire -their reappearance without possessing full power to control them. -These learned and devout men, venerated even to this day with a kind -of religious fervor, had furnished enough, and more, to show that such -supernatural agents had not lost the worst vices of humanity, but in -addition possessed greater means of indulging them, which they were not -timid in exercising. Felix Deford knew the world’s many afflictions -too well to wish to add any more to their number; but he believed that -a charm so potent as to force the powers of darkness to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> obey its -summons, had only to be dispelled to drive them back to their homes -again.</p> - -<p>It would be wrong to neglect stating here, that if the masters whose -astonishing knowledge and power Felix admired, mingled the mysteries of -religion with their theories and principles, he by no means disregarded -them. If it be true, (and who doubts it?) that in the antediluvian -age, men had lived so many years as to make life resemble a sweet and -pleasant immortality upon earth, a very remarkable change must have -been effected since then. In the opinions of his masters, that this -long life had been the result of a closer communion with the divine -element, of social intercourse with the many good spirits supposed to -inhabit and abound in space, and of possessing a controlling power over -the evil ones, he saw no poetry, but the serious truths of philosophy. -Here, then, there had been sufficient to attract his attention to the -mysterious portions of his Bible, just as the disbeliever is drawn to -those which human intellect is incapable of solving or reconciling. His -researches, however, had a less ruinous effect, for they perplexed only -himself, and did no harm to others.</p> - -<p>He pursued his studies, boiled his mystic herbs, applied his -minerals, made his magic mixtures, and resolved his wild problems, -constantly expecting some answer from regions which he was incapable -of penetrating. His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> failures never daunted him, for the doctrines -of his masters had been too well settled in his mind, and he was too -thoroughly convinced of their accuracy, to permit a supposition of -their untruth. He was neither so vain nor impatient as to reproach -his predecessors because he had failed to meet with equal success, -but ascribed his repeated disappointments to his own deficiencies and -imperfections. He had been too intent upon his studies to have much -concerned himself about the villagers, who, ever since the meeting of -the evening party before described, suspected his motives and feared -his designs. Not knowing what evils he might bring upon them, and -impelled by a very troublesome curiosity, they imagined the worst, -so naturally are we given to exaggeration; and now began to refuse -supplying him with the requisite comforts of life, thus expecting to -bring matters to a decisive point. This, at last, compelled him to -greater sociability, but he refused to become communicative. Though -asked a thousand times, directly and indirectly, concerning his -solitary pursuits, he had as many civil and respectful answers, leaving -his questioners as ignorant as they were before. At length, however, -the curiosity of the village triumphed. A young rogue, more cautious -and cunning than the rest, ascertained what were his employments, and -smiled at the great consternation caused by the discovery. He adorned -his tale with all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> the poetry of his rough fancy, and so interwove it -with marvels and falsehoods that it gave ample proof that he would have -made a much better alchemist than Felix. His story fully realized the -imaginings of the wildest magician, and soon succeeded in persuading -the villagers that Deford was the absolute controller of spirits, -and the unlimited master of demons. As a dealer in forbidden things, -he was now still more carefully avoided. Had Felix here thrown away -his honesty, for he began to feel the undeserved reputation he was -acquiring, and issued from his cloister publicly to practice his -incantations, he could have performed wonders before the eyes of the -villagers not surpassed in splendor by any accredited to his masters: -but he preferred to continue his studies and his conjurations as if -unconscious of the opinions entertained concerning him. This only had -the effect of increasing the consternation of the villagers still -more. His name at once became an object of dread to the credulous, and -a subject of terror to the old women, who soon made it the fright of -the nursery. Recollections of old and marvelous stories were rapidly -revived, and for some time nothing seemed to be known or talked of -in the village but terrible tales. There was scarcely a man or woman -to be found who had not recently seen a ghost or been troubled by -some fearful spectre,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> for all which Felix had to bear the blame. -Amongst these, the most conspicuous was the sharp-visaged old maid, -who now saw more ghosts and phantoms than there had been Gods in the -heathen Pantheons, and pointed to this fact as a full and triumphant -verification of the opinions she had first expressed concerning him. -To billet an army upon a town is always attended with great confusion, -and necessarily with no little terror; but she accused him of something -more awful still. She unhesitatingly affirmed that he had filled the -village with spirits and devils, to trouble the repose of its people; -but an incredulous fellow, perhaps moved by a malicious disposition, -insisted that such could not possibly have been the case, otherwise she -could not have been secure for a single moment. No nook or corner could -be found where ghost or goblin had not been. The street had become -the dancing ground of the tenants of darkness, and the limits of the -village the general theatre for their sports and evil practices, and -all through the incantations of the conjuror. Every bare spot which -had refused to yield as abundantly as its neighbor, brought a curse -upon poor Felix; every strange mark discovered was regarded as a sure -indication of superhuman agency, and every odd foot-print afforded a -monstrous theme for conjecture. Singular noises began to be heard in -the air: some exulting and merry—others plaintive and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> melancholy. -Confusion seized the cattle, the horses became as stubborn as the -women, the dogs kept up a continual howl and fight, and night was -rendered hideous by caterwauls. The pigs and chickens were no less -rebellious, the noisy fowls became more noisy and restless, and the -barn yards resembled perfect Babels. The crow of the cock was no longer -the morning signal of the approach of day, for it was heard at all -hours of the night. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down, -or tossed about by some miraculous and fearful power. It is supposed -that the land inhabited by spirits is pleasant and enchanting, that -fairies and genii seek none but the abodes of beauty, but here all was -dismay. It was not strange that the majority of the villagers should -have been made afraid to venture out of doors after the decline of the -sun; yet notwithstanding all this, Felix had a few defenders. Though -none could deny the evidences of tumult existing, these assigned quite -a different cause for the fact. Make a village mad, said they, drive -all the good sense out of the heads of its women and substitute fear, -spread consternation amongst the children and discord amongst the men, -and it would be truly miraculous if matters followed their usually -peaceful routine. The brute will partake of the turbulent humors of its -master, and when constantly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> disturbed by surrounding dismay, cannot -avoid becoming infected with the general confusion.</p> - -<p>Felix, at last, began to fear the mischief he had unintentionally been -creating, and sallied forth once a day with the view of allaying it. -As secresy was no longer possible, he endeavored to become as sociable -and communicative as circumstances would permit, but the villagers -generally shunned him as though he had been a pestilence. A few only -could tolerate his presence and submit to his conversations, and these -had to encounter the censure of being leagued with him. An evil motive -and wicked intention was now ascribed to every trifling thing he did, -and all his attempts to commingle sociably with the villagers were -quickly attributed to some base design. It is strange how error leads -us to phrensy, but such appears to be its very nature. When once it -has taken root, it spreads and increases with unaccountable rapidity. -With not one half the beauty and attraction of truth and reason; it -yet seems to possess a hundred times their power and influence over -our conduct. Truth moves with slow and certain tread—error with -fearful impetuosity. A town once set in motion the wrong way, presents -a terrific spectacle, and to arrest its career of madness is a task -not easily performed. It had been so in the case of Felix Deford, -and he soon ascertained that it was much less difficult to create a -turbulent storm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> than to allay it. The villagers became lavish in -threats and curses against him; yet, mistrusting and doubting, their -fears compelled them to act with caution. Repeated deputations were -sent to him, politely requesting him to retire from the village, lest -his personal safety might be endangered. His efforts to remove their -delusion proved unavailing, and they continued to insist until he -dismissed them, no less impatient at their importunities than they had -been apprehensive of his residence amongst them.</p> - -<p>Whilst they had been thus engaged in devising means for the -expatriation of Felix, a danger more immediately threatening called -for their undivided attention. Though it had been supposed they were -entirely safe from Indian incursions, they noticed several suspicious -signs and indications which induced them to prepare for an attack. -The friendly feeling that had existed between the villagers and the -savages in their immediate vicinity, had not deterred other tribes from -ravaging wherever opportunities were presented. In this new difficulty, -the alchemist nobly volunteered his assistance. Without waiting for -such a call, he assumed the command as one familiar with the practices -and habits of the savage, and who had frequently been engaged in -similar skirmishes. As was apprehended, the war-whoop was suddenly -heard early one morning, and fully indicated the desperate encounter -to be expected.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> The attack was commenced with a fury common to Indian -warfare, and it was mainly through the vigilance of the magician -that the contest resulted in the total rout of the savages. All were -compelled to be lavish in their praises of his services, but even -the marvellous exploits which they ascribed to him could not inspire -confidence and friendship. They were simply regarded as convincing -proof of the exercise of forbidden power. Upon being rehearsed again -and again, no little magnified at each repetition, few were willing to -believe that he could have escaped unless protected by some superhuman -agency. Some had even seen strange figures hovering above his head and -arresting the many and repeated blows aimed at him. Others had seen him -surrounded by more than thirty savages at a time, yet none of these -could so closely approach him as to use any weapon. He appeared to be -encompassed by a mystic circle which no one could enter, thus enabling -him to deal destruction around, whilst his assailants were rendered -harmless. When tired of the slaughter in one section of the village, he -almost imperceptibly rose above the heads of friends and foes, and was -quickly transported to another that demanded his aid. Others, still, -had seen him rush wildly into the very midst of savage groups, and -rescue a number of brave villagers who had been defending themselves -against great odds,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> and so confusing the assailants that they even -fell upon themselves to hurry their retreat. The more marvellous his -exploits, the more did the villagers regret that he lived amongst -them, for he might eventually prove more dangerous than the savages -themselves, and how could they resist him?</p> - -<p>Felix, however, was not disposed to be an object of dread to the -villagers any longer. A few days after the incursion of the Indians, -he was no more to be seen. To account for his sudden disappearance, it -was alleged that he had followed the savages, and would continue to -pursue them until their tribe was totally extinct. He was to become -their evil spirit, who would enter into their midst and slaughter as -he pleased, whilst their arms should be unavailing against him. This -opinion obtained almost general consent as the most plausible, after a -careful and cautious examination of his late residence had been made. -Nothing was there to be found or seen save the black circle upon the -floor, which, to the great astonishment of all, resisted every effort -made to erase it. The walls were now more clear and clean than ever, -and retained no traces of the mysterious devices that had formerly -ornamented them. The entire building appeared as though it had been -fitted up for the reception of some fastidious tenant. All this, in the -opinion of the villagers, had been the undoubted work of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> spirits -which they supposed the conjuror had under his command, and which would -aid him in his avenging mission.</p> - -<p>Their surmises were destined to be materially changed upon the arrival -of one of the villagers who had been absent for several months upon -public business. He was one of the principal men of the village, which -important distinction he had won more through the interest he had -manifested against Felix than any excellent qualities of his own. True, -there was a little of the German’s good nature in his composition, -and he had a great love for all that was wonderful and mysterious. -He heard with astonishment the details of the villagers—how they -had been attacked during his absence, and how Felix had assisted -them, and then suddenly departed, as they supposed, to take vengeance -upon the savages. In return, he had something interesting to relate, -which soon undeceived them. Whilst wending his solitary way towards -the village, he reported, night had overtaken him, and having been -still a considerable distance off, he kindled a fire upon the banks -of the river, intending to repose until morning. Sometime during -the night he was aroused from his quiet slumber, and looking round, -he beheld a bright, blazing light in the air, high above the water. -To his utter amazement, there was Felix Deford in the blaze! He was -vehemently remonstrating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> with a figure so closely arrayed in black -that its outlines could not be distinctly traced. The discussion -continued sharply for some time. Although circumstances sufficiently -indicated that Felix was in the presence of a superior, his spirit was -unconquerable, and he ever seemed the victor in the wordy conflict, -as the villager inferred from the manner of his antagonist. The black -figure continued to become more terrible at every word, and at last -began emitting foam from its mouth and fire from its nostrils, but -Felix refused to abate the least in his remonstrances. A different -encounter now commenced between them, which promised to be more -decisive than words. The blaze that enveloped them began to spread -and heave as though it partook of the anger of the combatants, much -resembling huge and boisterous billows when dashed into spray in quick -succession against an irresistible rock. It seemed to have been caught -up in a terrible tempest, and amid its turbulent agitation, the contest -between Felix and his antagonist was continued by rapidly hurling -large black darts at each other. No want of skilful aim was exhibited, -yet each appeared to be composed of an impenetrable substance, and -the destructive missiles no sooner touched the person of either than -they rebounded again, or flew off at angles, and vanished into air. -Abandoning these apparently inefficient instruments,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> they approached, -and engaged hand to hand with fiery swords; but so equally were they -matched in this mode of warfare that they only exhausted themselves, -and after making a number of furious, but ineffectual blows and -thrusts, they threw away their weapons. Panting from the exertion of -the desperate battle, they stood for some time gazing intently at -each other, exhibiting a fearful and unearthly savageness. At length -the contest was again resumed, and huge bolts, whose dark-blue color -contrasted beautifully with the glare that surrounded them, were thrown -with marvellous dexterity, but they were as vigilantly and skilfully -parried or avoided. It was now as difficult to be true to their aim as -it had been easy before, plainly indicating that a blow from the bolt -was held in different esteem than a stroke from the darts previously -used. Suddenly Felix sprang with a savage leap upon his antagonist, -having at the same moment been struck by one of these monstrous -missiles, when instantly the flame disappeared, and both fell rapidly -down into the water. Nothing was now heard but the rushing of the -current, which seemed to have become more boisterous, and the villager -composed himself to sleep again.</p> - -<p>He awoke in the morning, and directing his eyes over the body of the -water, he beheld rapid currents from all sides, rushing towards the -spot where the combatants<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> had fallen. The object was strange to -him, and he entered his light canoe determined to investigate it. -Fortunately for his curiosity, before he reached the ungovernable -current, he saw the trunk of a large tree floating down the river. -It was drawn towards the arena that had attracted his attention, and -rapidly approaching the centre, it was whirled round and round, tearing -up the water as if laboring in a mighty whirlwind, or grappling to be -freed from the clutch of a fearful monster. Its terrible struggles were -unavailing, and by a powerful effort, as though the might of the waters -had been concentrated upon one object, it was raised on end, when down, -down it passed from sight. This new wonder was scarcely less surprising -to the villager than the occurrences he had witnessed during the night, -and guarding his fragile bark he for some time watched the raging -element. Every thing that came within reach of the current, which had -formed itself into a great funnel, was dragged down its voracious -centre, however awful or prolonged its struggles. What became of it -afterwards ever remained a close and impenetrable mystery.</p> - -<p>After this astonishing report had been heard and fully commented -upon by the villagers, all other surmises in reference to Felix were -abandoned, and many visited the place where he had fought his last -battle.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> There was none now to be found amongst them who had no regrets -for the poor alchemist. Although he had been an object of fear to them -whilst seen in their midst, he had rendered services too important when -the village had been assailed by the savages, not to have secured the -good wishes of all; and if they had so heartily desired him to remove -his abode elsewhere, they as fervently wished prosperity to attend him. -Even the sharp-visaged old maid, who had before so repeatedly expressed -her ill opinion of him, now exhibited her gratitude. During the assault -of the Indians, she affirmed, he had twice rescued her from the -tomahawk of the savages just in time to prevent the blows that would -certainly have terminated her existence. With all her want of charity -and magnanimity, there was still the sweet tenderness of woman in her -nature, and she could not restrain her lamentations and her tears.</p> - -<p>For a long, long time, the story of Felix continued to be the village -talk. The strange disposition of the waters that commemorated his last -exploit, acquired the name of the “Magic Funnel” from the villagers, -and whatever was drawn into it was engulfed forever. Its end or -termination remained unknown. It was a suggestion of some of the more -philosophic villagers, that the immense currents which then fed it may -have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> entered again into the body of the river at a distance of many -miles, or have had a number of outlets so small that none would have -thought of tracing them to their original source. Whatever of truth or -error there may have been in these and kindred surmises, it is said, -as a truth which was never doubted by the villagers, that the poor and -ill-fated alchemist makes a circuit every year, entering the “Magic -Funnel” again, together with his antagonist. On every anniversary of -his fearful encounter, the singular flame may be seen again in the air, -with a renewal of the battle. Often these waters lash each other as -if in great trouble, and it has passed into a traditional saying with -the sturdy watermen of the Susquehanna, whenever they see them surge -and foam with unusual impetuosity, that the conjuror and his powerful -adversary are at each other again, interchanging their terrible frowns -and hurling their fearful bolts. The humble boatman, as he cautiously -moves by this mysterious place, now far less dangerous than many years -ago, with his fragile skiff or light canoe, still gives a sighing -thought to the memory of the conjuror, and not unfrequently sings a -doleful requiem over the fate of the Village Alchemist.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">H. C.</span><br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="REMARKS2">REMARKS,</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">INTENDED TO PRECEDE THE FOLLOWING ESSAY.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>“If, in the paper herewith submitted, there may be any confusion, -or supposed misapplication of terms, we claim our privilege. In old -time, those who excelled in the sciences were called <i>Sages</i>, -which was equivalent to our <em>learned</em>. This pedantic appellation, -however, could not be tolerated by the modest Pythagoras, who, being -merely an anxious searcher after knowledge, refused to arrogate to -himself its actual possession, and therefore assumed the title of -<em>Philosopher</em>, or <em>Lover of Wisdom</em>. He deserves immortal -honor for this happy application of the word, yet we are not quite sure -that he would have used it at all had he foreseen the consequences -to which it has led. Ever since his day, it has become the custom to -look upon all whose wild fancies are inexplicable, as “Philosophers;” -and whenever a confused mass of nonsense is collected together, so -heterogeneous that human ingenuity is at a loss to classify it, it is -generally dubbed “Philosophy.” Whatever of incongruity, confusion, or -misapplication may be detected in our essay, must, therefore, under -the most approved customs of the times, be regarded as wonderfully -philosophic, and being thus converted into a merit, we need add nothing -in extenuation.”<span class="fnanchor" id="fna2"><a href="#fn2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn2"><a href="#fna2">[2]</a> <span class="smcap">Note.</span>—The above introductory remarks, together with the -paper which they accompanied, were read before the Association as the -report of a Committee.—<span class="smcap">Editor.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_ESSAY2">AN ESSAY.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">THE BEAUTY OF A WELL CULTIVATED HEART.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>However high and exalted the achievements of mind, and whatever -the pleasures and consolations of knowledge, these are small when -contrasted with the beauties of a well-cultivated heart. The grand -attainments of talent and genius, exhibiting man’s lofty superiority -over all animated existence, may attract our admiration and elicit -our surprise, but the manifestation of those noble qualities which we -ascribe to the heart, alone can make us feel. Mind only appeals to -mind: heart alone to heart.</p> - -<p>“Knowledge is wealth,” was a favorite and perhaps somewhat egotistical -saying of the ancient philosophers, and, indeed, without it man would -be a most pitiable creature. It is a maxim ascribed to Zoroaster, that -“he who lives in ignorance knoweth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> neither God nor religion,” and -Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece, and founder of the Ionic -sect, calls him “who enjoys good health, finds fortune favorable, -and has well cultivated his soul with sound learning,” the happy -man. Without mental culture, we cannot appreciate the treasures of -nature, and unless we have a knowledge of its laws, obtained through -a study of the sciences, we cannot realize the comforts with which it -is arrayed for the benefit of mankind. Even the merciful government -of God is rendered one of terror and fear through ignorance, whilst -the intercourse with our fellows so essential to social happiness, is -restrained within the most narrow bounds, and we remain little better -than barbarians. The Mitylenians esteemed ignorance of the liberal -arts a deplorable punishment, and thus, when masters of the sea, they -prohibited the revolted allies from teaching their children letters or -music, as the most grievous penalty they could possibly inflict.</p> - -<p>The affections, and those virtues which signally reach them, we have -for ages been accustomed to place to the heart’s account. We yield to -it all the virtues of sensibility, and thus it becomes the great source -and centre of feeling. To it we ascribe that generous commiseration -and sympathy which constitute the pillars of society, and which have -long since confirmed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> the declaration of the great Roman orator, that -no nation has ever existed where civility, good nature, and gratitude, -were not had in esteem, and where the proud, the mischievous, the -cruel, and ungrateful, were not had in contempt and abhorrence. Wisdom -may flatter our self-love, and as it advances, justly challenge our -respect, but we fail to see in it the power or the pleasure which is -inseparable from the heart’s good sentiments. “It is to no purpose to -be wise, unless we are rendered better,” truly observes Lucian. Life -is made a blessing, not through the influence of mind, however much it -may have done to surround us with the means of comfort and enjoyment, -but through the great excellencies of man’s nature. It is a law of -nature, as we are told by the most eminent moralists, that each should -cultivate an agreeable sociability as the best means of promoting the -end for which human society has been instituted. This can never be -successfully done without the virtues of the heart—such as friendship -and love, and above and including all, <span class="allsmcap">CHARITY</span>.</p> - -<p>The pleasure of man’s intercourse with his fellows depends principally -upon the virtues that adorn him. The wise, if arrogant, vain, and -ungrateful, may only succeed in awakening within the good feelings of -mingled respect and contempt; whilst the generous, the humble, the -just, will ever elicit universal esteem. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> rely upon their gratitude -and confide in their friendship, realizing the happiness of their -guileless sincerity and truth. Without friendship, life would be a -gift which we might well despise. “By what other means,” asks Seneca, -“are we preserved, but by the mutual assistance of good turns?” It -is this generous virtue, springing from the heart, that renders our -associations agreeable, and throws around our existence the joys and -pleasures of social life. “If any man,” says Xenophon, “a lover of -virtue, ever found a more profitable companion than Socrates, I deem -that man the happiest of human kind.” This celebrated ancient general -and scholar, in thus speaking of his friend, utters but a truthful -tribute to the virtue of friendship, as exemplified in the life of -every honest man.</p> - -<p>The man who has well improved his heart becomes a fit companion for -all, whatever may be their condition. He views the actions of men -through the medium of his generous virtues, rather than through that -rigid severity which accompanies an unforgiving temper. His noble -charity recognizes a universal equality, and whilst he bears with -the errors and follies of those around him, he seeks to remove them -by generous appeals to the heart rather than by censure and rough -rebuke. He remembers that the tender entreaties of his mother, and -the lamentations of his wife and children,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> prevented Coriolanus -from destroying the Rome that had formerly banished him, and not the -fear of the Romans nor their tempting overtures; and that afterwards -the moderation of Valerius Corvus, the Dictator, quelled a dangerous -mutiny, and accomplished, perhaps a similar end. He is not prone to -look upon every error as a serious crime to be resented, but prefers to -act upon the magnanimous dictum accredited to the Chinese philosophers, -who “reckoned it a true mark of a brave, and wise, and worthy man, to -put up the hurts and affronts he received, without any inclination to -harm the author.” When it becomes necessary to punish a villain, he -prefers the example of Pericles, if circumstances allow it, who, it -is said, endured the ribaldry of a rogue for an entire day, without -exhibiting anger, and then commanded a servant to light him home with -the torch: thus, perhaps, taking the most signal vengeance possible, -for none can patiently bear such generosity and silence from him whom -he hates, and with whom he desires to quarrel. In the wide range of -human blessings there is none to equal those generous impulses which -govern the conduct of such a man. They enable him truly to fulfil -the destiny of his affections, in whatever station he may be called, -despite the circumstances calculated to arouse his passions and excite -the evil elements in his nature.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>They who have well cultivated the heart’s true sensibilities, find the -means and sources of enjoyment spread lavishly around them. The fickle -and whimsical pursuits after momentary pleasure, which vex and perplex -so many, never disturb their quiet nor encumber their repose. The -happiness that attends them is unalloyed, not subject to the regrets -of disappointment, nor the frequent remorse which preys upon the mind -of him who had haunted the glittering pleasures of animal life and its -enticing enjoyments. They feel the full gratification of the inward -sense, which is sincere, penetrating, and permanent. The store upon -which they draw is exhaustless. Other elements of nature may perish by -too frequent use, but the sensibilities of the heart only increase in -strength and vigor through every occasion that calls them forth, and -expand the more the more they are exercised. It is use that preserves -them: slothfulness is their great and formidable enemy. “All virtues,” -says an ancient Grecian philosopher, “depend upon exercise and use; to -preserve them, we must practice them.”</p> - -<p>The career of man often presents melancholy illustrations of the want -of this true sensibility. The aims of life, too frequently governed -by the arbitrary decrees of society, lead him into paths that rather -blunt than encourage it; and he finds little substantial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> pleasure in -fulfilling a destiny which circumstances have forced upon him against -the better qualities of his nature. Fortune may have smiled upon him, -enriching him with her bounties, yet these, if simply depending upon -themselves, soon sicken and lose their interest. The riches of the soul -can only be enjoyed through the sensibilities of the heart, which lead -us to the performance of deeds of truth and charity. They alone can -enable us to discharge the mission of sympathy and love towards the -unfortunate and distressed; they alone can qualify us for generous and -magnanimous intercourse with those whose evil destiny deserves our kind -indulgence, and fit us for more exalted association with equals and -superiors; they alone can develope the good germs in our nature into -exceeding excellencies, and lead us to true virtue and its exhaustless -treasures; and they alone can make the journey of life resemble a -smooth and even surface, and surround us with pleasures and comforts -which the insensible may never know. How much, then, is it our duty to -cultivate the heart through the exercise of its sensibilities, and thus -obtain the full gratification of every virtuous faculty in our nature! -How much, then, does it behoove each of us to conquer the sordid and -selfish motives too frequently engendered by surrounding influences, -and bring into more healthful existence those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> noble affections with -which we are endowed! Thus alone can we truly live in mind and heart, -and effect a happy harmony between soul and body—no longer verifying -the saying of Theophrastus, that the former pays large rent to the -latter for its dwelling.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_PREFACE">A PREFACE,</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0">MADE BY THE SECRETARY.</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The following paper was read at a full meeting of the Junto, and -listened to with considerable attention: not more than a dozen falling -into a nodding doze during its reading. I was at a loss to account -for this interest, not knowing whether to ascribe it to the style -of the composition or to the manner of the reader, who frequently -indicated his delight, though perhaps at the expense of his charity, -by his insinuating emphasis of particular sentences. To be relieved -of my perplexity, I addressed the inquiry to a gentleman seated near -me, upon whose face I noticed a savage scowl, which had probably been -occasioned by his having heard too accurate a description of his own -character. Turning towards me, perhaps with the view of ascertaining -whether there was not a double meaning in my query, he gruffly replied: -“Neither style nor manner; but scandal, to be sure: the drowsiest cur -will prick its ears at scandal—the sluggard, be he never so sluggish, -never gapes when furnished with a dish well seasoned with its venom.” -That he was correct in this, I shall not here venture to record an -opinion;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> but certain it is, that at the conclusion he was the loudest -in applause of Peter’s dream, and the first to declare that “it was not -all a dream.” Notwithstanding this emphatic declaration, however, it -was soon ascertained, upon questioning the gentleman who had introduced -the paper, that it was, of a verity, what it purported to be. He had -received the manuscript of a friend, who had heard every incident -therein related from Peter Easy himself, and could not be mistaken. -This seemed to satisfy the curiosity of each, and it was therefore -generously decreed that the “Dream of a Loafer” should be allowed a -place amongst the records of the Association.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -<span class="smcap">S——y.</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DREAM_OF_A_LOAFER">THE DREAM OF A LOAFER.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>It has often been matter of surprise to me, that the important and -truly philosophic individual upon whom the community has generously -conferred the title of “loafer,” should frequently be so little -appreciated as to receive no higher encomiums than such as he may be -able to extract from a laugh or a sneer. His title is certainly one of -dignity and distinction, and although many efforts have heretofore been -made to change it, and substitute the more refined and aristocratic -appellation of “gentleman of leisure,” he has ever, and very properly, -in my opinion, indignantly resisted such invidious encroachments upon -it. He has thoroughly examined its derivation, and fully investigated -its import, with all of which he has no reason to find fault, and -therefore remains perfectly content.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> - -<p>That the loafer is a meritorious personage, one fact alone should be -sufficient to satisfy the most doubting: he is always emphatically -a “self-made” man. By carefully studying excellent examples, which -have been increasing ever since the world began, and to which we are -promised many more bright additions, he seldom fails to attain a -great degree of perfection. Unfortunately, our civilization prevents -him from securing that renown to which he is fully able to establish -a just claim, and which had generally been freely granted to his -first predecessors. Should he presume to live, as it is reported of -our primitive ancestors, upon husks and acorns, we would quickly -pronounce him a madman, if for no other reason than because this would -demonstrate that he differed from us in taste, or was blessed with a -better organ of digestion! Should he diet upon raw beef, employ his -naked fingers and the hollow of his hand in preference to the many -table articles invented for our convenience, and now constantly used, -we would soon think it an act of charity to confine him in some lunatic -asylum, instead of immortalizing him as a philosopher! Civilization, -so much admired for the many comforts it has brought with it, has thus -resulted much more to his injury than benefit. If the dial of time -was set back some two or three thousand years, he is perhaps the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -only one who would not lose by the change. In truth, civilization -and enlightenment, though he does not deny that they have greatly -benefitted others, are his most formidable enemies. It will therefore -be seen how unreasonable and ungenerous are those who condemn him for -doing nothing to advance either. These elements of modern society have -been the great cause of inducing many to doubt his usefulness, whilst -they have even impelled some seriously to question the necessity of -his existence. In proof of this, I may here state, that I once had a -very inquisitive and philosophic friend, now for several years gathered -to his fathers, whose death, it is said, was occasioned by too close -mental application in efforts to ascertain the usefulness and necessity -of a well-known micher, who was constantly to be seen at the village -tavern. Such, I have been assured, was the precise statement of his -physician, who likewise added, that he might perhaps have survived, but -for the many perplexing difficulties suggested to his mind by the old -command of the apostle, “that if any would not work, neither should he -eat.” This entire statement, however, was much questioned; but then, -those who doubted it, invariably remarked that the doctor, having so -well doctored my friend that he quickly died, had less regard for the -truth than solicitude for his professional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> skill. This involves the -whole matter in uncertainty, where I must leave it, not because I -belong to the school of the Pyrrhonists, those lying doubters of old, -but simply because the subject is too intricate, and might perhaps -prove as fatal to me as the one before alluded to did to my worthy -friend. Whatever may have been the cause of my friend’s death, we -must feel sorry that, if he was engaged upon so serviceable a work, -he was not permitted to complete it and present the result of his -labors to the world. The information might have proved of considerable -benefit to the philosophically inclined. Indeed, if he had removed all -possible doubt of the usefulness of such individuals, and shown the -real necessity of their existence in our society, a very difficult -problem, I must own, would have been solved. Such a favorable solution, -too, would have afforded much consolation to all of that class, and -might even have caused a great increase of their number. Of one thing, -at least, I am certain: it would have confirmed still more, if such a -thing be possible, the habits of an acquaintance of mine, who resides -in the same village with me. He is known to the villagers by the -designation of Easy Peter, but always writes his name, whenever you can -induce him to perform so much manual labor, <span class="smcap">Peter Easy</span>. He is -descended<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> from a family whose lineage has been traced to the Welsh and -Germans, of which stocks he is extremely fond of boasting. This, to me, -seems simply to illustrate an excellent trait in his character, for it -exhibits the respect he entertains for his forefathers. Some of the -villagers, however, ascribe his boasts to vanity; declaring that he is -as vain as a woman, and that if mythology had no Narcissus, he would -furnish it with an excellent one. That these are much out in their -reckoning, I am well persuaded; for should he become so enchanted with -the loveliness of his figure as to languish to death at the fountain in -which it might be reflected, they would be the first to attribute his -demise to sheer laziness,—a disease, which, fortunately, is not very -fatal, otherwise epidemics would never cease in the world.</p> - -<p>Easy Peter may at all times be seen in our village. If he is not -found at the old log tavern at its eastern end, you are certain to -meet him at the tobacco house at its western extremity, where two -smoky youths have for several years been engaged in “rolling up” -the weed into form for the enjoyment of its devotees. I believe it -is the universal experience that all of Peter’s excellent habits -possess a great proclivity for places of this kind. Whether this may -be owing to a desire for idle associations, or simply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> to a love of -the articles retailed there, I am not well qualified to decide; but -whatever may be the cause operating upon Peter, he has a peculiar -affinity for these two places in our village, at which his enthusiasm -and verbosity frequently amuse and occasionally astonish his auditors. -It is true, no one seriously apprehends that any modern Festus will -ever impatiently accuse him of being made mad by “much learning,” -however prolific he may be in his speeches. He is in no such danger, -nor is it probable that he will ever earn the reputation of being wise -simply through being boisterous, although many have done so before -him. Always referring to the generous liberality ascribed to Socrates -as an illustration how men should use their knowledge, he even seeks -to surpass this much renowned ancient philosopher, whom he recognizes -as his worthy model, in the lavishness with which he dispenses -whatever he may happen to know. This, it must be acknowledged, is not -so exceedingly much; but then he always mixes it with a marvellous -amount of useless verbiage, principally drawn from his imagination -and his dreams. Herein, it will readily be conceded, he is not at all -singular, and only plays a part for which the times furnish innumerable -examples. The inhabitants of the village are all perfectly acquainted -with him and his habits, and he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> has therefore long since ceased to -disturb them, not from any reasons of his own, but simply because -they have learned not to heed him. It so happens, however, that we -are not unfrequently visited by strangers, and these invariably stare -with amazement whenever they encounter him at either of his favorite -places of resort. It may be supposed that in these magnanimous efforts -to entertain all who can be induced, from curiosity or other motives, -to while away an idle moment with him, he should naturally indulge -in denunciations against the world and its practices. This, I must -confess, is an inference not in the least repugnant to his habits; but -then he never finds fault from the mere pleasure, of doing so, in which -he is so very singular, that I must leave it to others to determine -whether he is in advance of the age or behind it.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the hour of noon, on a certain summer day which will long -be remembered in this locality because of its excessive heat, a young -and sprightly farmer chanced to visit the village. His entrance seemed -to be regarded as an event somewhat remarkable, for so dull was the -season that no strange face had been seen by the villagers for several -weeks. Upon arriving at the tavern, having been curiously stared at -by the occupants of every building he had passed, he encountered -Peter, who immediately entered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> into heterogeneous conversation, if -that can be called conversation in which the talking is all on one -side. I will here venture the opinion, though cautiously, that it -may, for custom seems to have so decreed, and with few things has -custom had more to do. Having invented no new word fully adequate to -the occasion, and sufficiently expressive, we are led to submit to -its long continued acquiescence in the one now employed. Then, too, -excellent talkers could never consent to change this form of expression -for any other less creditable to themselves, and the good listener -may find sufficient to reconcile himself to it in the remark of old -Simonides, who declared that he had frequently repented of having said -too much, but never of having remained silent. Notwithstanding the -apparent determination to exclude the possibility of a stray word from -the new comer, Peter’s conduct had something of novelty in it to the -stranger which at once induced him patiently to listen. Of course, this -attention was highly pleasing to the talker, for several weeks had -been a very long period for him to remain, on account of the dullness -of the season, in that silence to which the villagers had doomed him -by common consent, under the impression that time spent with him was -unprofitably and irretrievably cast away. When, therefore, he was -invited by the young man to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> a seat in his conveyance, Peter had no -hesitancy in accepting, and not until they had left the village several -miles behind, did he ascertain that the stranger had no intention of -returning to it again. He now first bethought himself of the ridiculous -blunder he had made in not having informed himself of this fact before. -In this sad plight, very sad indeed to him, he slowly dismounted from -the vehicle, and commenced pondering upon the best means to get back -again to the tavern he had so incautiously left at the bidding of the -stranger. To walk so great a distance he would at any time have looked -upon as an exceedingly laborious task, but in the awful heat of that -day the idea was too terrible to be entertained. At length he concluded -to trust to his luck, which had sometimes favored him, although he -had frequently complained of its hard decrees, thinking that chance -might perhaps send some conveyance that way, through which he could -return to the village. I should be greatly gratified to be able to -say, that in Peter Easy I had found the man who never lamented over -his fate, and who never affirmed that he was the “unluckiest fellow -in the world;” but I cannot claim the credit of having made so happy -a discovery. Whether that fortunate individual has ever set a foot of -real flesh and bone upon earthly soil, is most extremely doubtful; -yet all will confide in their better<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> destiny, as did Peter in the -present instance, though the certainty of disappointment may seem to -stare them in the face. Cheered by so comfortable a hope, he seated -himself by the roadside, beneath the shady branches of a ponderous -tree, and not feeling just then like the young lady who always “dreaded -to retire to bed because she could not talk in her sleep,” he was -soon lazily spread out full length upon the sod. He had not been long -in this posture, before he found gradually stealing over him a dull -and oppressive stupor, which may have owed its origin to a hearty and -undigested dinner, for in his case the saying of the wise man did -not yet apply—“slothfulness casteth into a deep sleep, and an idle -soul shall suffer hunger.” Fortunately for him, his father had been a -careful and judicious man, and thus placed him beyond the calamity of -the latter portion of the proverb, which his habits might otherwise -have reaped; and I much question whether he had ever been so blessed -as to realize the truth of the former by experience. In this state -of unconsciousness, verging unto sleep, he had a dream, which he has -since so often related that it must be very widely known. At least, -such is the inference of the villagers, who suppose that it has been -honored with frequent repetitions by some of the many strangers who -have visited the village since this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> eventful day in Peter’s life, -none of whom could escape hearing it either in whole or by parcels. I -shall here endeavor to narrate it, though conscious that much of its -effect must necessarily be lost through the absence of his manner and -gestures, which no human skill could transfer upon paper; nor can I -give it precisely in his own words, for reasons which I must withhold, -leaving the reader, however, at liberty to supply such as may best suit -his fancy.</p> - -<p>Easy Peter, not so exceedingly easy at the time, imagined in his dream -that some supernatural power had suddenly seized him. From whence it -had come, he could not divine, but it gradually transported him beyond -the confines of earth into another world. This so much resembled our -own, that had he awoke here, he positively affirms, he should not have -been able to discover the least difference. He was not as fortunate as -the man who “dreamed that there was no credit to be given to dreams;” -and strange enough, in his conscious hours, he defends this fanciful -excursion of his momentary slumber as a substantial truth. It has been -so effectually impressed upon his mind, that he speaks of it, not as -the deceptive experience of a dream, but as a real adventure. The -first thing that attracted his attention in this new sphere, was the -variety of employments at which he found the people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> engaged. A French -philosopher declares, that they are mean souls who are so buried in -business as not to know that the most glorious and principal work of -man is to live well; and as Peter gazed upon the continual efforts and -ceaseless struggles here exhibited, he could not refrain from indulging -in somewhat similar reflections. Scarcely an occasional pause was to -be observed in the general commotion, so intent did each appear upon -some object that hurried him on.—Amongst these eager scramblers, -running to and fro in hot haste, chasing every chimera supposed to -hold out a promise, Peter’s eyes detected one who at once claimed his -entire attention. He was as ugly as a Theban sphynx, lean and lank, -his very gait giving evidence of his cunning and treachery, whilst -his countenance, if it mirrored what was passing in the soul, plainly -cried out, “Money, money! at whatever cost or consequence, I must -have money!” A worthy illustration of the heartless miser, who seeks -for nothing but the gratification of his insatiable desire, he never -hesitated to inflict a wrong, or crush a soul, to obtain possession -of a shilling. The French Vandille, to save the extra expense of -three bleedings at three pence each, let out the four and twenty -ounces of blood at a single operation, thus purchasing his death at a -sixpence—certainly a very cheap transaction. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> had his counterpart -in this avaricious wretch, who, Peter positively affirms, would have -added another four and twenty ounces for the gratification of feasting -his eyes upon the glitter of a shekel. “Had he lived,” said a stranger, -“in the days of Eumolpus, he would have been an excellent subject for -remembrance in the will of that whimsical fellow, who ordered that -all to whom he gave legacies, besides his children, should receive -them upon condition that they cut up his body and eat it before the -people.” “Many,” replied Peter, “have waded through disgust to wealth; -and for a trifle, he would never have paused until he had munched it -up entirely.” His miserly propensities urged him to the violation of -every principle, the sacrifice of every virtue that happened to come -in contact with them; and thus he pursued his daily course, still -adding to his store as he lost of his manhood. How very ridiculous it -is, thought Peter in his dream, that men will grasp and grasp without -stopping to ask a question, and thereby only increase the certainty -of being eventually grasped themselves, by most unwelcome clutches, -without being allowed the time to answer any.</p> - -<p>Turning from this wretched specimen of humanity, Peter recognised -another who was no less busy, and who seemed as ambitious as Phæton -or Icarus, determined<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> to set the world in a blaze, or what appeared -more likely to happen, break his own neck in his aspiring flights. He -knew of no medium by which to be controlled, and would even have found -pleasure in the reputation of being a fool; but, unfortunately, Hobbes -spoke truth when he said, that “without learning it is impossible for -any man to be either excellently wise or excellently foolish.” Herein -he was deficient, and the “number of common fools far exceeding that of -wise men,” as a German author observes, they were rendered so general -and were so frequently encountered that even this prospect of securing -celebrity promised him nothing. Moved by his “wild distemper” he forgot -the realities by which he was surrounded, and in his impetuosity to -climb up the crooked ladder of distinction, he was hurried to the most -extravagant excesses. Erostratus, to obtain renown, fired the temple -of Diana, but the Ephesians, to bury his memory in eternal oblivion, -prohibited the mention of his name under the penalty of death. This -individual, if not yet driven to such extremities to gratify his -passion, could nevertheless foresee, in the satiric ridicule certain to -follow his mad endeavors, sufficient cause to “go and hang himself out -of sheer mortification.” Such, thought Peter, not unfrequently, is the -melancholy end of the zealot, when his zeal triumphs over his judgment -and dethrones his reason.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p>As he was watching the manœuvres and expedients of this not uncommon -character, a party of gentlemen suddenly intervened between his vision -and the subject of his gaze. They were all so exceedingly merry that -Peter felt anxious to join in their sport, and declares that he should -have done so had he not been deterred by seeing one of them slyly and -skilfully sliding his hands into the pockets of another, where, he -quite reasonably supposed, it had no business. This was an exploit the -like of which he had never witnessed before; but having frequently -heard of the practices of a learned profession, he immediately -concluded that this cunning villain was a lawyer, so prone are we to -form opinions from general reputation. He soon after discovered his -error, however, for the loud “hue and cry” that met his ears, very -distinctly informed him that upon this world there were pocket pickers -and robbers as well as upon our own, showing that we cannot claim these -blessings as belonging exclusively to us. Inference, thought Peter, is -a very uncertain thing, as often unjust as it is mistaken, and he asked -of himself whether it had ever assigned to him a place in the category -of rogues. Of this he might have been satisfied, for it has not yet -been shown that any has ever escaped such imputations, and we can only -be surprised that so many are foolish enough<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> to manifest doubtful -anxiety in a matter of which each may be so certain.</p> - -<p>Another, who was hurrying along with all possible speed, and whose -wild appearance seemed to attract general notice, now claimed Peter’s -attention. Not in the least regarding his late experience, he at once -concluded that this was a madman, in which he was again partially -mistaken. Following after, it was not long before he discovered him -to be an eminent physician, visiting a patient to whom he had the day -before administered a dose, and who was now in his last agonies. “A -wretched, bungling quack! a quack, sir,” exclaimed a young physician, -who became irritated at our dreamer as he was declaiming upon this -portion of his dream. “Perhaps,” replied a stranger, “the people of -that sphere are stupid enough to follow the practice that caused the -uncivil jest of Fabius of Bentivoglio, who, on his way to manufacture a -doctor, by chance espied an ass yawning with open mouth as if he were -laughing. To whom, ‘why laugh you,’ says Fabius, ‘you silly creature? -we can make you a doctor too, if you have but money.’” However this may -have been, the great haste of the physician was matter of surprise to -Peter, who could not understand why a professor, whose business it was -to assist people to get out of the world with ease, should be so much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> -concerned for the life of a single patient. His wonder, however, soon -subsided upon being furnished with reason to believe that the man of -medicine was a more careful student of the Talmud and the Rabbins than -of his profession, and that he had not been running for the good of the -sick, but for his own fee, which was of infinitely greater importance. -Many a one, thought Peter, is rendering service to the devil, even -at the very time that we may think him engaged in works of superior -excellence.</p> - -<p>Easy Peter now lost sight of the physician, but his place was filled by -a straight, slender, and serious looking individual, who was holding -forth in a magnificent building, which had evidently been erected with -a due regard to lodging accommodations. It required nothing beyond -what he saw to inform him that this was a preacher in his fashionable -temple. Peter had seen few men, notwithstanding his extensive -intercourse with the world, who had the faculty of assuming so saintly -an appearance as this one, and he therefore determined to follow him -home. The holy man had scarcely descended from the pulpit before Peter -saw an illustration of how much easier it was to preach humility than -to practice it, and felt how few, even of the priesthood, really -understood the saying of the essayist, that “the souls of kings and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -cobblers were cast in the same mould.” To show obeisance to the one, -however guilty and degraded by vice he may be, is easy, and honorable, -and an imitation of Jesus: to shake hands with the other, and seek to -reclaim him by magnanimous and friendly fellowship, is countenancing -and encouraging “publicans and sinners.” To greet with the pleasant -social smile, and the exhibition of generous solicitude, the poor and -ragged parishioner, is changing religion into levity, and “walking in -the counsel of the ungodly, and standing in the way of sinners:” to -fawn upon and court the favor and association of the more fortunate -worshipper, who seldom ever rises from his knees until he has planned -some new scheme to play the villain towards his fellow, is “exhorting -one another daily, while it is called to-day,” or taking “sweet counsel -together, and walking unto the house of God in company.” Peter was not -a little surprised, upon reaching the residence of the minister, to -discover how much better he was fitted to declaim upon the beauties of -charity than to practice magnanimity and forbearance in his own house. -This, thought he, is not the only one who, to obtain skill in lecturing -the public, exercises himself at the expense of his family’s comfort -and happiness.</p> - -<p>Peter became interested in the private habits of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> reverend -gentleman, and would gladly have remained to ascertain yet more -concerning them, but being unable to direct the course of his dream, -he was unfortunately compelled to follow a melancholy creature who -happened just then to cross his dreamy path. True, he had somewhere -read or heard that melancholy men were naturally endowed with greater -genius than those blessed with more volatile dispositions, and he -therefore expected to gain from this new subject what he had missed by -losing the other. He was led to a large and splendid establishment, -which he regarded as being certainly much better calculated to produce -comfort and happiness than melancholy. He had scarcely entered, before -he heard a harsh, shrill voice re-echoing through the house, and when -the termagant, who seemed to have inherited from nature a perfect right -to its possession, made her appearance, he could not help repeating -to himself the proverb of Solomon, “<em>It is</em> better to dwell in a -corner of the house-top, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.” -“What an excellent Tatianian he would have made,” remarked a pert young -lady of the village, who would sometimes honor Peter with a few moments -of her attention, and to whom the thought of such unfortunate husbands -always afforded matter for merriment. “Why so?” anxiously queried -Peter, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> could not fathom her meaning. “Because they maintained that -all, except themselves, were damned through mother Eve, and that women -were made by the devil, to the latter of which tenets your hen-pecked -vision could no doubt have sworn with the strictest of the sect.” -“Notwithstanding such were their origin, we would treasure them,” added -another. “Proving,” replied she, “that the gifts from that quarter are -preferred, and that there is no justice in your complaints when the -penalty is to be paid.” Peter was naturally somewhat sympathetic, and -would gladly have condoled with this melancholy man in his affliction, -but the domestic pest kept too strict a watch to permit it. He -apprehended the consequences likely to follow, should he presume too -much, and therefore wisely concluded not to cause the reigning spirit -of the mansion to “pass still more the equilibrium of her balance.” He -reflected how indiscreet it is to interfere in matters of this kind, -and remembering the advice of the old poet, he thought it judicious not -to disregard it:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Have pity on yourself, and, though you’re stout</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As mastiff breed, don’t take a bear by th’ snout.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>As a spectator, Peter Easy would not have objected to remain in this -splendid establishment of domestic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> misery, with the view of obtaining -some practical knowledge of matrimonial life. He had not ventured -out of single blessedness himself, for which he never gave any other -reason than that he had been predestinated a bachelor. In this he was -believed by many of the villagers, but others continued to maintain -that his single blessedness was simply owing to his aversion to the -trouble necessarily encountered in visiting and courting for a wife. -To this he would only reply, that although he could not, like the old -Thracians and Assyrians, rise from his bed in the morning, attend -the market with his purse, and return in the evening with one of the -fairest and most enchanting maids in the kingdom; nor coolly exchange, -for a lovely and bewitching partner, “one hundred and twenty pounds -of tobacco, cash,” the value of the best article, as was the practice -of his good-natured ancestors, he yet lived in an age affording equal -if not greater matrimonial facilities. “Now,” he would declare, “no -little of the labor of visiting and courting is voluntarily assumed by -the ladies themselves, through ten thousand modest expedients which -their ingenuity has invented; and should this prove insufficient, -why, it is the easiest matter in the world to pick up a wife on any -day of the year upon any highway in the country.” Concluding his -bachelor prejudices to be real, they quite naturally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> induced him to -believe that in the domestic affairs of this magnificent mansion, he -could see the fruits and consequences of marriage in their true and -proper light. Fortune, however, was inclined to deal more favorably -with him, and his attention was arrested by a handsome young man who -hurried from the building as if anxious to escape the unpleasant sounds -of the voice within. Peter followed him as he walked leisurely and -contentedly along, until he came to his residence, which was a small, -yet handsomely arranged and neatly furnished building. As the young -man opened the door, his pretty young wife was the first to meet and -welcome him with her cheerful countenance and happy smiles, and then -they so lovingly embraced each other, that Peter’s heart, though long -a stranger to such feelings, impulsively began to respond to theirs. -He turned away, perhaps to check its beatings, but now affirms he did -so simply to resolve this astounding mystery; for it was his firm -conviction, based upon his own extensive observation, that marriages -were formed with no other design than that of providing for the parties -a proper and convenient person with whom to fight and quarrel whenever -inclination prompted. “It was well to turn away,” replied the pert -young lady before alluded to, “for your eyes should never be permitted -to feast upon so holy a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> scene. Like all of your bachelor kin, you -‘are not worthy to see a man first in the morning,’ as the saying of -the Benjins used to have it. The unhappy Dido, who pronounced you a -pack of brutes, spoke only the truth; and you deserve no better fate -than that decreed by the Spartan ruler, who ordained that all of your -species should be excluded from the sports and dances of the women, and -compelled to run up and down the Forum, unclad and freezing, singing -songs in dishonor of themselves.” “Surely,” replied Peter, “rather -than endure so rigorous a discipline or punishment, each of us would -follow Luther’s jest, and carve unto himself an obedient wife out of -a block of stone; or if that would not suffice, perhaps profit by the -example of Henry VIII., and ‘put his neck into the yoke, as the only -remedy,’ though the spouse provided for him should prove to be nothing -but ‘a great Flander’s mare.’” When Peter again looked upon the young -couple, they were comfortably seated together, and both seemed still to -enjoy the “tender caress” just as much as they could have done in their -wooing days; but this was so contrary to his previous observation, -and so conflicted with his theory, that he sadly misinterpreted their -conduct. He had forgotten the advice of a friend who had repeatedly -warned him against indiscriminately venturing opinions upon matters -concerning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> which he was entirely ignorant, lest he might find frequent -cause to repent of his errors; for should he happen to be right once -in a hundred times, he would certainly be more fortunate than the -rest of mankind generally are. He accordingly gives it as his settled -opinion, that these two visions of his dream were so addicted to such -demonstrations of affection that they could not avoid indulging in -them, nor be very particular towards whom they were exhibited. Such -practices, Peter declares, are so very common; and he even presumes to -account through them for the habits of tenderness which some married -people happen to acquire. He could, therefore, not well decide which -were the most blessed—this apparently well satisfied couple, or the -pair he had seen at the splendid mansion, under the lowering of a -domestic storm.</p> - -<p>When Peter emerged from the cottage, he came into a dreary street, -studded with rows of dilapidated houses on either side, each of which -seemed to give ample evidence of the wretchedness existing within. Here -he encountered three “ministers of mercy,” who visited this locality -on pretence of relieving the wants and distresses of the people. Their -holy mission at once arrested his attention, and claimed his regard. -How happy the influence of charity, reflected he, coming like the sweet -sympathy of angels to bless this suffering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> community. It was a maxim -of Plato, that the “end and aim of all human actions is some good;” -and in no other channel can more be accomplished than in the one in -which these seemingly worthy men appeared to be engaged. Who can ponder -upon the mission of the noble vivandiere, the providence of the French -soldier, as he sees her following the camp, extending to the weak and -weary, the disabled and fatigued, the hand of help and hospitality, -without feeling how small are all things compared with human sympathy -and love? Her self-sacrificing and sublime benignity,—attending the -rough warrior in his danger, relieving him when in want, aiding him -when in distress, ministering to him in sickness, tenderly raising -him when he falls upon the field of carnage and providing a place of -safety, binding his wounds with her salves, her balsams, and her rolls -of soft linen, and freely sharing her delicacies, her smiles, and her -good wishes,—gives us a foretaste of that eternity of bliss which -shall be the just reward of the good, after a separation from the -blighting struggles, and contentions, and jealousies of human life. How -well for the world were each a vivandiere, alike in peace and in war! -What suffering would be driven from our midst, what misery averted, -what wretchedness reclaimed, what happiness dispensed around! Peter -imagined he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> here saw an imitation of her example, and it acted like -a charm upon his easy nature. How sad, then, was the sudden change -of his feelings when he discovered his mistake, and ascertained that -these were nothing but shrewd pretenders after all, who had succeeded, -by cunning and hypocrisy, to secure somewhat of a reputation for -honesty and charity. Affecting religiously to help the poor, they were -only magnanimously helping themselves, at the expense of the little -generosity left in the community. How often, thought he, do people -obtain credit for possessing a “big heart” just because they have none -at all?</p> - -<p>Peter was no longer inclined to follow these unworthy administrators -of the public bounty, and turning round he beheld a small, hump-backed -individual, who at once excited his interest. There was something -peculiarly repulsive in this man’s countenance, which invariably -prompted all who came in contact with him to put their hands into -their pockets and their fingers upon their purses. Peter was not -long in ascertaining that he was a broker and usurer, who, following -his profession in the midst of these poor and humble creatures, -seemed to fatten upon their poverty as does the vulture upon its -unfortunate prey. Whenever Peter relates this incident of his dream, -he declaims with all the vehemence he possesses. These<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> inhuman and -unfeeling wretches, he declares, are the most formidable servants of -the devil, and always inherit his qualities to so eminent a degree -that no stranger could distinguish the servants from the master. As -the hawk pounces upon the helpless and trembling little sparrow, they -fasten their greedy talons upon the tatters of a ragged dress with -inextricable clutch; and as the savage beast licks the gore of its -victim, they suck the blood of theirs until crimson to the dewlap and -purple to the elbows. Pandora let loose her horde of evils to trouble -the world, said the heathens. The Christian acknowledges that God has -not so restricted the power of Satan as to prevent him from sending -his scourges upon the earth, of which he has liberally availed himself -by establishing his agents in the form of usurers and brokers in every -section of the world. Of old, they were justly regarded as little -better than murderers, and decidedly worse than thieves; for, says Cato -in Cicero, “our ancestors enacted in their laws, that a thief should -be condemned to pay double, but an usurer quadruple.” The Jew has at -least bigotry and prejudice, inherited from his fathers for nearly -two thousand years, to offer as an excuse when he robs the Gentile, -and yet it is a common saying, “that every day he takes an oath to -do what he can to cheat the Christians;” but these indiscriminately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -plunder heathen and Christian, exhibiting no emotion beyond a satanic -chuckle over their success. They are ravenous pests who speculate upon -poverty and misfortune, and digest the misery around them with savage -glee—knaves who, for want of souls themselves, seek to crush the -souls of the unfortunate and distressed, apparently finding happiness -in their agonies, and nectar in their tears. Ah! thought Peter, what -worthy denizens of the pit they will make, and what amusement they will -afford to their master in their efforts to prey upon each other, for -doubtlessly they will follow their unrighteous trade, as the only one -fit to be pursued in hell!</p> - -<p>Easy Peter regarded this as truly an afflicted street when he was -drawn from the usurer to the rendezvous of the speculators. Amid the -wretchedness and poverty of this locality, there was an abundance of -ill-gotten gain, as he had sufficient opportunity to witness. These new -visions of his dream had assembled for the purpose of making a renewed -effort in their swindling schemes, and were engaged in revolving -their plans with evident satisfaction. Brigands have their leaders, -pirates their captains, and these, brigands and pirates sanctioned by -society, had their master spirit too. The common bands of freebooters -generally select as their chiefs the most desperate and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> daring amongst -them—these had elevated the most heartless to equal distinction. -Peter watched them framing their lies, and fortifying them with -plausibility, and pronounced the loathsome mass a fit dish for public -gullibility to digest. Here were schemes for particular purposes and -special individuals—there preparations for each, however large or -limited his means. Their enterprises had but a single basis: a design -to enrich themselves, at whatever cost to their fellows. This one end -had swallowed up every principle of integrity, every entity in morals, -every sympathetic impulse of the heart. The misery and distress, the -tears, and suffering, and despair, necessarily occasioned by their -deceptions, and frauds, and robberies, never disturbed their quiet, -but were simply regarded as pleasing comicalities to amuse them whilst -pocketing the plunder. Homer assures us that the profession of the -robber was regarded as glorious by some of the ancients, and Plutarch -informs us that amongst the Spaniards his exploits passed for gallant -adventures. Though we punish the bold and daring rogue, without making -the least allowance for his hair-breadth escapes, the treacherous -plunderer in our midst, who does not even possess the redeeming -trait of physical courage, receives our countenance and esteem. As -Peter was witnessing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> this excellent illustration of selfishness and -thievery, which a credulous people first pay dearly for and then -honor, their operations were interrupted for a moment by the entrance -of the Chief, or President of the band, in company with a well-to-do -looking individual, on whose arm he was affectionately leaning. They -had been friends for many years, and through the false yet plausible -representations of the former, the latter soon fell into the snare. -Unsuspectingly he became the victim to their designs, and though he -left perfectly content, another revolution of the earth was certain -to find him a bankrupt. It is true, reflected Peter, that villany is -often disguised under the garb of friendship, and where we most confide -suspicion is most required.</p> - -<p>Peter now heard a great noise in the street, and hurrying to the place -from whence it proceeded, he witnessed a grand display of pugilistic -skill. What had given origin to the quarrel he was unable to ascertain, -yet so bitter was the rage of the antagonists, who numbered some dozen -or more, that it had already lasted a considerable time, nor did it -seem to be in the least abating. There were but two spectators to the -scene, one of whom appeared to be much frightened and concerned, and -was using every persuasion to pacify the heated combatants. The other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -looked calmly on, perfectly composed at what he saw, until unable to -contain himself any longer, he approached his friend and very mildly -addressed him: “Sir, I crave your pardon for having been amused at -your generous but mistaken efforts to quell this foolish quarrel. You -must know that there are those in this strange world of ours who have -totally blunted every feeling of refinement, and utterly destroyed -whatever moral sensibility they may once have possessed. Upon such your -honest appeals are always in vain. That they should not be entirely -placed beneath mortality, however, God has kindly endowed them with a -physical sensibility, through which you may often successfully reach -their depraved minds and obdurate hearts. You have appealed to the -moral feelings of these rioters to no purpose; and now, to demonstrate -what I have said, let me ascertain what impression can be made upon -their physical sensibilities.” Thus saying, he threw off a portion of -his cumbersome apparel, and giving notice that he had watched their -proceedings for upwards of an hour, he declared that the battle must -now be ended. This proving ineffectual, he entered into their midst, -and making several (to use a technical phrase,) “feel the unpleasant -weight of his fists,” he soon dispersed the boisterous crowd. An odd -mode, thought Peter, of making peace, yet in this instance a very -effectual one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> - -<p>Immediately after quiet had been restored, the street suddenly became -very populous, and Peter’s attention was arrested by the occupant of -a splendid conveyance, who was industriously engaged in answering the -polite recognitions that greeted him from every side. That this was a -personage of no little distinction seemed so evident that Peter asked -of the first passer-by what place of trust or honor he filled to such -general satisfaction. The inquiry simply elicited the information that -he was a private gentleman, who had succeeded in amassing great wealth -by taking usury from the poor, and selling worthless stocks to all whom -he could deceive into a purchase. He was but one of many illustrations -of what Juvenal has written,</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“That sins alike unlike rewards have found,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whilst this villain’s hang’d, the other’s crowned.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Though every one knew him to be a rogue and a thief, the good condition -in which his practices had placed him, secured public obeisance. What a -multitude of sins, thought Peter, can be covered by a coach, and what -monstrous respect we extend to the knave when blessed with the smiles -of fortune!</p> - -<p>Turning from the occupant of the coach, Peter beheld a singularly -ludicrous, but withal a very distressing spectacle. A poor, -poverty-cursed creature was dying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> of starvation, whilst a wealthy -gentleman, who had been pitying him for days, was tenderly bending over -him and deploring his great distress, but could not so much open his -heart as to reach into his well-filled purse and draw forth a paltry -dollar to give relief. Strange, thought Peter, that men will whine, and -fret, and lament, over human misery and suffering, and yet so fastly -clutch a shilling as not to use it freely in obtaining aid and giving -succour.</p> - -<p>As Peter was gazing upon this unhappy scene, a smiling little gentleman -crossed his path, whom he was now compelled to follow. This interesting -individual appeared to be the friend of all whom he encountered, being -exceedingly social and affable. His friendly greetings were always -returned with the same politeness, though frequently with much less -affection. He had acquired a great reputation for benevolence, which -so elicited Peter’s esteem that he was pleased with every mark of -attention exhibited towards him. It was a maxim of the Stoics that -“men were, for the sake of men, brought into the world, that they -might assist and benefit each other,” and Peter fancied he here saw -one, at least, who lived up to this magnanimous aphorism. This good -opinion, however, was suddenly changed upon reaching his residence and -discovering that he was the head of a mongrel banking institution, and -so well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> adapted to his business that he experienced little difficulty -in defrauding and plundering his customers, even whilst swearing how -much he designed to befriend them. He was extremely pleasant to all in -front of the counter, and though profusely lavish and exceedingly fair -in promises, these were only made to afford him amusement in devising -the most ingenious modes in which to break them. He had long robbed -the State of its just portion of the dividends, used the funds of the -institution in fraudulent transactions, and placed them out secretly -at usury. After thus plundering thousands, he very generously gave -a little of the booty in charity to the poor. How very easy it is, -thought Peter, to win a good name, if you but know how to play the -hypocrite behind a fortune.</p> - -<p>When Peter emerged from the bank, his eyes encountered a character -whose odd appearance at once challenged his notice. He seemed to “take -the world extremely easy,” being quite philosophic in his indifference -to passing events, yet prided himself upon always rendering full -justice to mankind, and their good and evil practices, their virtues -and their vices, their errors and their follies. Peter ascertained that -he had been suddenly raised, by some fortunate occurrence, from abject -poverty to considerable wealth. The cruel manner in which he had been -neglected when poor by many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> whose flatteries now daily greeted him, -had somewhat soured his disposition; and although he was generous to -those who had once befriended him, he felt little sympathy for the -rest of the species. Peter learned that he had engaged to give to a -stranger, who contemplated removing his residence to that place, some -knowledge of the people, their character and habits. Nothing could have -been more gratifying to Peter Easy, so he kept close to his heels until -he arrived at the corner of one of the principal streets, the place -appointed for their meeting, where he found the stranger in waiting.</p> - -<p>There, said he to the stranger, as a poor, though apparently happy -individual passed by, is a personation of honesty. With such a man, the -old peasants used to say, “one may safely play at mora in the dark.” -This, however, is a very questionable compliment in our day, and has -brought him nothing but poverty as his reward, than which few evils -could be greater under our present social organization. Possessed of -a good nature, and feeling a proper interest in the welfare of his -friends, he never refused to extend his helping hand, until he has been -placed in the deplorable condition of being compelled to hunt for aid -himself. A task, thought Peter, which Pluto should have devised for -human punishment, instead of providing a hades.</p> - -<p>The short gentleman, continued he, who has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> just passed, is an honored -and skilful follower of a profession which has acquired considerable -note in the world, though now it must be practiced secretly. What has -occasioned this interdict is not easily discovered. Should you say to -that gentleman that an improved moral public opinion caused it, he -would merrily take your arm, and by leading you to a number of highly -respectable resorts, soon show you how much, at least in practice, the -majority is on the other side. It is said of the old Germans, that in -their passion for gaming, they often staked their persons upon a die, -and if unsuccessful, patiently became slaves. The world has made of -human life nothing but an uncertain game, in which the shrewdest cheats -frequently obtain the greatest honor. No wonder, then, that many who -would not purchase heaven by a little inconvenience, never hesitate to -follow in the German’s wake, profiting if successful, and enduring if -unlucky. That gentleman’s skill has thus far saved him. When he first -came amongst us, one of his bachelor kin was reputed wealthy, whilst -he was designated as the only heir. Notwithstanding his professional -practices, which were of course not taken into account, he married a -most respectable citizen’s daughter, who had long been angling for an -heir: but the bargain has proved an unprofitable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> one after all. His -wealthy kin, becoming intimate with his pretty housekeeper, eventually -married her—thus establishing a different order of succession. Ah, -thought Peter, “the best laid plans o’ men and mice gang aft aglie,” -and the foolish dreams of fickle maidens often end in a life of good -repentance.</p> - -<p>Yonder, sir, is another professional gentleman, but his profession is -of a different cast. He mistook his calling, and without possessing -any brain, desired to become a lawyer, but has failed even to make a -tolerable pettifogger. I am assured that his teacher, who swore that -his skull was so “miserably thick” that scarcely an idea could be -battered into it, constantly importuned and urged him to venture upon -some learned profession, having been fully persuaded, from observation, -that the stupidity which he so eminently possessed, was one of the -most essential qualifications for such an undertaking. I have advised -him to turn his attention to medicine, as being better suited to his -calibre, and in which he might perhaps prove more prosperous, or at -least find greater security for his deficiencies. He still clings to -his profession, however, and having thus far maintained his dignity by -constant calls upon his acquaintances, he is now prepared to cheat them -all. A practice, thought Peter, quite common, but no one need expect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -to pass through the world without contributing his quota towards -supporting the drones that are in it.</p> - -<p>There, sir, you may rest assured you see a moral man. Never mind his -rags, for you must know that young men, morality, and fine linen, -seldom go together in this world, where fathers invite libertines -to their houses, where mothers welcome the attentions paid to their -daughters by noted debauchees, and where young maidens themselves -prefer a smile from wealthy licentiousness to a nod from virtuous -poverty. Though he is neither Godwardly nor manwardly crooked, -which should secure him esteem in a world of such great pretence -to excellence, he has sufficiently experienced that virtue, when -contrasted only with its present social rewards, is but an “empty name, -a phantom, an abject slave, exposed to the insults of fortune,” as -the dying Roman Stoic has declared. He has been tempted enough, but -relying upon the self-approval which has never abandoned him, this has -only made him a more shining example. I proclaim to you, upon better -authority than my own, that there is a resting place provided for the -troubled, and that men like he will inherit it. Thanks, thought Peter, -for the happy prospect of adding another to the names in my little -volume. [Here it must be explained that Peter had long kept a small -book, in which he had written the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> names of all whom he personally -encountered during his life, and who, he supposed, might stand a -respectable chance of profiting by the exchange of worlds to be made -at their last gasp; but thus far he had occasion to call it into -requisition only on three several occasions. The third time, however, -having discovered his own deception, he used it to amend by erasing one -of the names previously registered there.]</p> - -<p>You see yonder group of three: the one is a petty printer, the other an -unscrupulous politician, and the third an independent voter. Altogether -there is wit enough amongst them to make one tolerable fool, and heart -enough to make one paltry villain. The first endeavors to persuade the -public that the second is an honest and patriotic citizen, for which he -receives the common rewards of the political toady: a pleasant smile -and lavish promises to begin,—a bitter curse, worse treachery, and a -parting kick, to end; the other has already been in office for a time, -and has stolen sufficient for another campaign; whilst the third is -just preparing to increase his shouts for the good of the country, for -which he demands a greater indulgence to his appetites. The palate is a -marvellous channel through which to obtain distinction and preferment, -an easy manufactory of good opinion, extorting pledges of eternal -friendship with astonishing rapidity, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> clinching a kind conclusion -with emphatic precision. The old maxim has it, that “you may easily -pin down a fellow’s nose to a full table,” and much of the success -and distinction in the world has no better basis. The aspirant yonder -knows full well how to avail himself of this one of our good-natured -imperfections, and having duped the people once, through its aid and -the assistance of his companions, this success has emboldened him to -make another effort. Beware of them all, for though they may be loud in -their declamations and vociferous in their patriotic demonstrations, -they still answer Seneca’s description,—“their liberty consists -principally in stuffing their bellies”—and may yet incur the general -ridicule instead of obtaining the public plunder. The most serious -public matters, you know, are often made the merest farces, and the -frequent promotion of knaves as often incurs no paltry penalties, as -you may learn from that red-faced individual approaching this way. -“Mankind,” says an old philosopher, “are not so happy, as that the best -things shall have the most patrons and defenders;” and notwithstanding -the habits of that officer, he has been elevated to the chief position -of this place, and now sits in judgment upon all offenders. His first -morning task is to meet his friends at the “Stag’s Head” yonder, his -second to feast upon and imbibe the wherewith<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> to maintain his ruddy -hue, and his third to reel to his office, open his judicial council, -and dispose of the drunken or offending creatures who may have been -taken into custody during the night, not so much for ill behaviour -as to provide a paltry fee for the police. Of course, a police whose -rewards depend upon the number of unfortunate creatures that may fall -into their clutches, cannot be remarkably cautious upon whom they -exercise their authority, nor measure personal freedom by any very -exact or liberal scale. Nothing beyond the prospect of a few picayunes, -thought Peter, is required to make men’s vision double, and cause them -to discover heinous offences where the disinterested and humane only -see matter for merriment or pity.</p> - -<p>Here comes a peculiar organization of human qualities. Avarice, -prodigality, and falsehood, are that man’s principal characteristics—a -combination of inconsistent vices which make him rather a petty fool -than a sensible knave, to which latter distinction he seems to aspire. -To day he will clutch a shilling with a grasp so powerful that nothing -can extort it, and to-morrow he will contract a debt to gratify the -most paltry vice that may move him. Should he happen to get into your -debt upon such an occasion, he will not be at a loss for lies to evade -your demand. When<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> Mareschal de Rochelaure was accused of taking part -with the Duke of Mayenne, he answered the king that he “did not follow -the duke, but his own money, for his debt would be but in a desperate -condition, if he did not stick close to his debtor.” Your tenacity -in sticking close to that man would only extort from him the same -falsehood a thousand times, and if detected and reproached, he would -coolly ask you whether you were so cursed a fool as to believe him! He -never enjoys a hearty laugh, save when he has duped some unsuspecting -individual who may have been induced to confide in him.——You need not -be surprised at his quick and sudden disappearance around the corner; -for yonder comes his especial friend, the collector, who has caused -him to tell more lies than a dozen of satan’s imps could register in a -year, and make more clumsy dodges than could be chronicled in a volume -as large as a quarto Bible. Of all dreaded things in our place, that -collector is the most dreaded. He is a clever, sociable, and amusing -fellow, who first puts you in a happy humor by his joviality, and -then draws the money from your purse before you are aware of it. He -was quite a favorite a few years ago, his society being universally -courted, but since he has engaged in his present employment every body -dodges and runs from him. My dear sir, if you wish to preserve your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -friendly intercourse with a neighborhood, never become a collector; -but should you ever be beset with more friends than you know what to -do with, I know of no honorable process by which you can so easily get -rid of them as by commencing this troublesome business. However brave -a people may be, reflected Peter, they have never yet had the courage -boldly to face a bill, and many who had laughed danger in the face, -skulked like cowards into the darkest corner upon beholding the simple -shadow of a creditor.</p> - -<p>You observe yonder lynx-eyed individual moving slowly along. He sees -all that is passing within vision around him. His two eyes seem to -answer the purposes of a hundred, and are constantly in motion. -Although everything within their range falls under their quick and -penetrating scrutiny, they behold nothing to admire or to make him -glad. They might as well gaze upon an utter blank, and certainly he -would experience more comfort should they recognise only a wide and -dismal waste instead of prosperity and happiness. He is as despicable -a victim of envy as the world ever saw, which simply moves him to hate -the success of those around him, and repine at their happiness. He can -only find gratification in their distress and joy in their calamities. -A tinge of envy, however much descried, is sometimes productive of -good results,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> for I have known it to prove an incentive to exertion -where all else had failed; but when permanently retained, it becomes -the powerful and fertile cause of hypocricies, lies, deceits, -treacheries, slanders, annihilating every good quality in nature, and -yet unsatisfied, still adding fuel to its evil ones. That man would -not hesitate to blast the qualities of your brain, merely because he -cannot bear your superiority; nor would he pause to ruin you in your -possessions, although he should not derive the least profit from it. -Whilst, however, he discovers pleasure in the ruin alike of those -above and below him, he finds a vulture in his evil passion, which, -“like iron over-run with rust, not only defiles, but destroys himself -continually.” It is well, reflected Peter, that passions which can -only experience delight in the evil fate of others, should likewise -make a meal upon their possessor, and that whilst he smiles upon the -calamities of the unfortunate, his smile should be but an expression of -his inward torture.</p> - -<p>There you may recognise a bald-pated knave, whose age, instead of -preserving him from the snares of the young, only seems to encourage -and embolden him the more. He is in company with his son-in-law, to -whom he once refused to give his daughter’s hand in marriage, for -reasons which he did not care to make known either to her or his -household. The vigilance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> curiosity of those less interested, -however, soon succeeded in ascertaining them, and the discovery -afforded no little amusement at his perplexity. The chief priests and -scribes were not in a greater quandary when they had the choice to say -“yea,” and be convicted of their baseness, or “nay,” and be stoned by -the people. He had too often met the aspirant to his daughter’s hand -at places of resort where none of our community who values his moral -character is likely to go. Peter was somewhat at a loss here, yet he -could not help reflecting that the father who visits places of crime, -is in a very ridiculous dilemma when compelled to make use of his -personal knowledge and his own dishonor to preserve the reputation of -his family.</p> - -<p>See there—worthy patterns of a gentleman and lady. He is an honest -and faithful husband, and she an affectionate and virtuous wife. They -love wisely and well, live happily in each other, and are models to -all who know them. Make them your friends, for the very atmosphere in -which they move is worth more than all the attention a thousand such -as have yet passed us could bestow. The lord who loves his lady truly, -and ever keeps unbroken the faith he has plighted to her, becomes as -much an example to the world as a joy to his wife; and the lady who -never forgets her affection and allegiance to her lord, is so much -superior to the common woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> that to him she always seems an angel out -of Paradise. “An honest man,” said old Simonides, “can have nothing in -this world better than a good wife,” and surely an honest woman can -ask no higher blessing than a good husband. You see such in those two, -and may well seek their friendship and profit by their excellencies of -character and correctness of habits. Ah! thought Peter, a happy oasis -in the desert of matrimonial life, still inspiring reverence for the -institution, though it be made the fickle plaything of the world, its -common game of heedless chance and hazard.</p> - -<p>There, sir, in that old man you see an impersonation of prejudice, a -quality not inaptly defined as “the spider of the mind, filling it with -cobwebs.” His opinion once set, no power on earth can change it, and -beware that you press not too closely, lest he adopt the convincing -logic of Frederick the Great, who, it is said, when argument failed -to enforce his convictions, had recourse to “kicking the shins of his -opponent.” Guide his thoughts into one channel and they will follow -it, though it should lead him to the devil. His prejudices frequently -render him as obstinate as a mule, and as often not as wise. He still -stands where his fathers stood before him, and joined to the idols -and follies of a past age, he has no sympathies with the present. If -he thinks at all, he does so simply to fasten upon his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> mind the more -his cherished errors, and your only policy is to “let him alone.” -Never, reflected Peter, undertake to straighten the crooked nature -of the prejudiced man, for to him all your facts are nothing but a -stumbling-block, and all your reasons simple foolishness.</p> - -<p>Yonder lame individual furnishes a story well illustrating the -fickleness of the human heart. Though we may appear to be enraptured -with a single feeling, the intervention of a trifling circumstance not -unfrequently entirely relieves us of it. That gentleman courted a fair -young maiden, and eventually his attentions resulted in a betrothal. An -unfortunate accident soon after deprived him of a leg, and being thus -deformed, his love required little time to extinguish her affection, -and accordingly broke her faith. She had bargained more for a solid man -than a sound head or heart, and being disabled from complying with the -conditions, he was politely rejected. Thus good luck often springs from -misfortune, and he gained greatly by the loss of a limb. What a world -of cripples, thought Peter, this would suddenly become, could all who -desired it be relieved by the loss of a leg of the ills from which his -fortunate misfortune preserved him.</p> - -<p>Turn your eyes to the left, and you may behold a fanciful pair -approaching towards us. That pursy and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> apparently very jovial -fellow—mine host of yonder inn—keeps a resort for gentility, and -under the cover of respectability, sends forth unnumbered evils to -infest and afflict the community. The practices of his house flourish -admirably under the beauty of a fashionable exterior; yet the -pestiferous rottenness within could not withstand the eye of modern -justice for a moment if disguised only in rags. Public morality in -the case where gold is concerned, is quite a different thing from -that wherein simple copper is brought into the scale. Respectable -crime easily escapes the keen vigilance of those who guard the public -virtue, whilst we are loud in their praises when some poor, abandoned, -God-forsaken wretch is hurried to his doom amid the imposing show of -a high morality and an even-handed justice. That man may lavishly -spread his fearful evils—the only things with which men appear to be -truly bountiful—with unchecked freedom; and whenever they press too -heavily upon us, a few plaintive groans will soon arouse the slumbering -sentinels of the law. Powerful justice will sound its signal, -triumphantly make a brutal “descent” upon some paltry hut, and drag its -starving inmates to the slaughter. Well, has not Carneades pronounced -his definitive sentence that “justice is folly;” and what matters -it whether I offend, and some more unfortunate creature pays<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> the -penalty, so that justice is appeased? It must have victims, and fate, -ill-fortune, and poverty, have not been miserly in providing them. -Thus it is never at a loss for the means wherewith to preserve that -reputation which Tully thought so essential “that even those who lived -by outrage and villany could not subsist without at least its shadow -or semblance.” That fortunate knave may prosper in his practices, and -though their fatal consequences may sometimes arouse our vengeance, -there never will be wanting those whose immolation will allay it. His -tall, robust companion is a character—a perfect original. He will hug, -and pet, and caress you with the tenderness of a captivated maiden, all -for a picayune; and when he has thus fondled it out of your possession, -having no prospect of realizing more, he would as lovingly kick you out -of doors for a ha’penny—thus making you as profitable a customer as -the circumstances could possibly admit. Headlong and heedless withal, -his actions ever in advance of his thoughts, he is a mass of locomotive -matter, tumbling about on the earth, with no idea to accomplish, no -purpose to fulfil. This is not the only one, reflected Peter, who has, -by some comical dispensation of nature, been placed outside of his -orbit, as if it designed to exhibit what a fickle whirligig can be made -of man by unhinging his directing power.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> - -<p>Look to that building yonder. The gentleman who has just entered it -is a modern reformer. He railed against the evil habits of men, and -the sinful and dishonest practices of the world, until sent to the -penitentiary for having attached another man’s name to a small piece -of bankable paper. The imitation was good, but unfortunately for him -history had chronicled the adventures of Saavadra, the famous and -somewhat romantic nuncio of Portugal, and having failed, in his mania -for improvement, to improve upon this noted forger, he atoned for his -unsuccessful attempt by faithfully serving the full period of his -sentence. He is now riding his hobby-horse of “Reform” again, with even -greater boldness than before. This may be owing to the extra courage -acquired, or perhaps to the change effected in the times, during the -period which he devoted to solitary meditations. The sledge-hammer mode -of reform has since accomplished marvels and become highly fashionable; -but it is now greatly feared that many too charitable fellows, in -their exceedingly magnanimous efforts to drive the erring back from -the brink of perdition, will stand a very excellent chance of tumbling -in themselves. He has abandoned the task of persuading for the more -exalted one of coercing, which may prove more profitable; but should -he branch out a second time upon his own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> responsibility, it is hoped -he may realize his ideas of improvement by choosing some species of -roguery wherein he shall leave no historical example unexcelled. It is -no uncommon occurrence of the ludicrous in life, reflected Peter, to -see those in whom the ordinary thief could not confide, suddenly become -reformers, and find patrons for their presumption and fools to regard -them as patterns of moral propriety.</p> - -<p>Note that gentleman and lady opposite. He is her husband. Having seen -his wife in dishabille the morning after his wedding, and meeting -her upon his return home at noon arrayed for public inspection, it -is currently reported, he found her so much improved and beautified -that he mistook her for a stranger, and absolutely asked her of the -whereabout of his spouse. Nature has been exceedingly kind after all. -If it has ordained that youth should fade, it has generously furnished -the material whereby a century can be made to assume the appearance of -a score. What matters it that old Father Cyprian thought all change the -work of satan, and pronounced it running counter to the will of God -to paint or black the hair, because he had read, “Thou canst not make -one hair white or black?” Who cares for the declaration of Tertullian, -that “it is the devil that mounts the actors on their buskins, in order -to make Jesus Christ a liar, who has said, that no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> one can add one -cubit to his stature?” They were both wofully mistaken, and our ladies -have most triumphantly refuted their errors, by silently exhibiting -that a hundred Tophets could not supply imps enough to make half the -changes and additions which they daily parade before our eyes. It is -marvellous, reflected Peter, what artificial charms can be conjured -up by those who properly understand the art of beauty; and why should -they fret and complain against fate, when, with paint, powder, and -cotton, they are constantly proving that their troublesome deficiencies -were simply meant as so many kindnesses, by leaving them at liberty to -manufacture whatever hue and dimensions that might best please their -fancies?</p> - -<p>The young lady and gentleman who have just passed by, seem to have -arrested your attention. They are intimate acquaintances, and it is -conjectured they will be something more in due time. You heard her -indignant remark upon the dissoluteness of that young man yonder, a -distant and ill-starred connexion of hers, and her emphatic wish for an -edict providing for the decapitation of all such reckless creatures. -Her creed, my dear sir, if impartially carried into effect, would -scarcely permit a head to remain solidly upon the shoulders of a single -citizen in the country; and her companion, though he does share her -virtuous affections, would be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> one of the first to despair for his -own. If shrewder and more cunning, he certainly is no better than the -individual who has elicited her censure, though she knows it not. -Her ignorance is blissful, however deceptive. Should some superhuman -agency, thought Peter, suddenly reveal the truthful characters of -Cupid’s followers, how many confiding maidens would be startled at -having admired the most knavish deceivers, and how many foolish swains -would stand aghast with horror at the dishonest treachery of their -lady-loves!</p> - -<p>In that young man approaching this way, you may recognise somewhat of -a philosopher. You might as well attempt to scale the mountains of the -moon as to persuade him that there was much real virtue in the world. -“We are honest,” he argues, “from convenience or policy, and apparently -moral from a fear of society, which has established certain rules, -and is given to certain general opinions, the violations of which are -always attended with some difficulties or vexations. The old Romans -had their censors, whose chief business it was to inspect the morals -of the citizens, and could we, by following some such example, spread -out before us the hidden conduct and practices of each individual, the -little of real conscience and truth, substantial honesty and morality, -we should be able to detect, might tempt us to abandon our moral code -entirely.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> Or could we, by a glance, penetrate the past lives and -habits, and scrutinize the secret sins of all whom we encounter, what -a terrible blushing there would be in the world, and how many would -laugh in each other’s faces! Many whose apparent honesty now claims -your respect, unable any longer to disguise their hypocrisy, would only -make merry over the numerous counterparts of themselves with whom they -should constantly come in contact. The virtuous Thrasea spoke but the -truth in his favorite maxim, that ‘he who suffers himself to hate vice -will hate mankind;’ for, although all must pretend to virtue from a -kind of social necessity, it is a garment which they cast aside without -a pause when rendered safe from detection, ever faithfully illustrating -the saying of Agathias, that ‘virtue upon necessity is just as long -lived as the fear that occasions it.’ The world seems desperately -determined to vindicate what its Saviour has affirmed, and no prophecy -promises to be more fully realized than his sorrowful declaration that -‘narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find -it.’” Such is a taste of the young man’s opinions, in which he is so -firmly rooted, that should you persuade him that the fate of the town -depended upon ten righteous men to be found within it, he would at once -take to his heels, and never pause until he was far out of danger. -Whether<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> there is not too much of correctness in his melancholy views, -you must determine for yourself.—No very difficult matter, reflected -Peter, amid the many unpleasant examples that are destined daily to -bring unwelcome aid to your judgment, and exhibit to your gaze so many -who seem but to struggle the hardest to obtain the greatest curses.</p> - -<p>You will pardon the interruption, said the stranger, but my attention -has been arrested by the counterfeit manikin suspended by the neck to -the branch of yonder tree, and my curiosity excited to know what fickle -whim or fancy placed it there. Its import, replied the other, not -endeavoring to restrain his merriment, is very significant. The female -occupants of the adjoining houses have for some time been engaged in a -bitter quarrel. The intolerable scolding propensities of one of them, -common report avers, caused her husband to resort to that effective -mode of obtaining relief. The cunning of the other, in the progress of -the quarrel, has devised that silent but expressive expedient as an -annoyance and remembrancer to her enemy, and by replacing it as often -as it is destroyed, promises fair to be the conqueror in the end.</p> - -<p>Here you may recognise one of those silly or knavish creatures, in whom -it is difficult to tell whether the mule or the monkey predominates. -He knows but of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> one vice in the world, and it is the subject of his -constant denunciations. He is ceaseless in his praises of honesty, and -as “opportunity makes the thief,” according to the proverb, he will -probably preserve his reputation as long as he remains amongst those -who know him. It is given as a rule, and in case you encounter him it -may prove of service, always to mistrust the man who too much prides -himself upon possessing a certain quality, and to be suspicious of -him who constantly deals in vehement complaints against a particular -vice. Such are generally weak in what they boast themselves strong, and -their darts are frequently directed against the very fault peculiar to -themselves. It is so, thought Peter, even with the great world, which -ever descries its own practices, and yet tenaciously continues in them, -as if loathe to part with such excellent causes to elicit its censure, -and such admirable escape-valves through which its wrath may freely -ooze itself away.</p> - -<p>There is an amusing and withal pitiable victim of a mistake. He was a -lodger at a public inn, and rising early one morning, he was mistaken -for a burglar, and received a terrible beating from his hasty and -suspicious host. To redress this injury, he flew to the law—a very -singular power to decide upon a mistake. The landlord, not thus to be -outdone, brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> a more serious charge against him in retaliation. The -blind Goddess, whose determinations were ascertained by two intelligent -juries, very magnanimously gave each the benefit of the mistake, and -both found comfortable lodgings in the county prison. There, thought -Peter, they had leisure at least to cool their sanguine tempers, and -reflect upon the frequent tendency of the merest trifles to grow into -importance.</p> - -<p>Opposite, you may see a genuine specimen of what the world calls -a “successful fellow.” He claims to be a proper person to reside -upon this especial sphere of God’s creation, and bases his peculiar -fitness upon two facts: he is not encumbered with an extra amount -of conscience, nor is he restrained by any settled principles of -virtue—two things, he avers, not well calculated to promote prosperity -in a world where the right and wrong of human actions are so generally -estimated by profit and loss. He will never suffer on account of -possessing too much of either, both of which he regards as certain -roads to poverty, and consequently loss of the world’s esteem. To -persuade you that he is doing you a service whilst plundering you, he -thinks the perfection of skill and ingenuity. Should he ever tempt you -to enter into any of his promising schemes, beware of his plausible -representations, for you may swear they only conceal a design to pick -your pocket with your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> own consent. No very uncommon occurrence, -reflected Peter, in a world where prosperity is made to depend upon a -cunning address, and where a shrewd head is so much preferred to an -honest heart.</p> - -<p>Approaching us, you may see a specimen of that sad human depravity -so frequently encountered, and whom the good morals of the virtuous -public have generally indulged under the plea of necessity. She was -unfortunate recently in disturbing the peace of a very respectable -locality, and having thus over-stepped the bounds of that necessity -which tolerated her, she fell into the meshes of the law, and gave us -rather a funny illustration of the melancholy effect misfortune has -upon friends. Her most punctual visitors, whom she had always received -so very graciously, perhaps having a view to their circumstances and -positions in society, now repulsed her the most roughly, and gave -free vent to their virtuous indignation when she presumed to solicit -<em>their</em> aid. After experiencing this ingratitude and baseness, -she became seriously ill from the excitement; and despairing of being -again restored, her repentant fears set her raving as if mad. Her -disconnected revelations were watched with wonderful anxiety, affording -great amusement to some, and as greatly exciting the fears of others; -but when she expressed it as a Christian duty that a <em>very</em> minute -account<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> of her ill-spent life should be given, she caused more genuine -consternation than could have followed a siege of the town. The fearful -disclosures of a few dozen of her kind, reflected Peter, in each city -and town of the country, specifically setting forth the names of their -visitors and lovers, could create more confusion than attended the -marches of Alexander, and cause a panic perhaps only equalled by that -of ancient Rome when invaded by the barbarians.</p> - -<p>Turn, however, from this unwelcome picture, and behold that fancy young -man yonder. He is too ignorant to be of any service in the position of -life to which he pretends, and too much inflated with his own conceit -to render himself useful in a different calling. Between these not -uncommon qualities, he manages to trudge along, cheating his tailor, -defrauding his landlord, and swindling all who may be so unfortunate as -to mistake his appearance for respectability and his pretensions for -honesty. How such palpable fools manage to maintain their stupidity -upon the plunder of more sensible knaves, is one of those inexplicable -mysteries of life which few have attempted to determine. We have -repudiated the rule of Aristotle, that only those employments are to -be reputed mean which render either the body or the soul unfit for the -practice of virtue; and by making certain pursuits a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> test of social -standing, and the neglect of all, a sure index of respectability, -we have admirably succeeded in rearing a brood of vagabonds whom it -would now be ungenerous to neglect. Thus, perhaps, they owe more to -our indulgence and kindness than we are willing to acknowledge, being -content to endure an occasional swindle, and in this silent manner -atone somewhat for an evil which we have ourselves created. It is so -much easier, reflected Peter, to tolerate some errors than to reform -them, and we are happily prepared to submit to their inconveniences if -they will only do us the kindness a little to tickle our vanity.</p> - -<p>Look to the windows of yonder houses—two handsome females. You may -learn a salutary lesson by carefully contemplating their countenances. -The one has led a life of guilt—the other one of innocence and virtue. -Look at their smiles: what sadness there is in the one, and what -satisfaction there seems to linger around the other! With the guilty, -a smile springs only from the lips; with the good, it pleasantly -indicates and answers emotions of the heart. See how vexed and restless -the manner of the one, and how easy and calm that of the other—a noble -contrast between abandonment and graceful dignity. The very bearing -of the one indicates a knowledge of her degradation, whilst that of -the other firmly yet modestly asserts her equality<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> and her claim to -respect. In their loneliness there, you may clearly read the thoughts -of each mirrored in her face. What an expression of languor, regret, -melancholy, remorse, agony, despair, you see in the one; what quiet -repose, comfort, content, pleasure, happiness, joy, is depicted in -the other! See in contrast, a spectre of deep, guilty sorrow, peering -out from the wrinkles and furrows which tell of fearful tempests and -revulsions within, and a calm placid vision beaming forth the life -and buoyancy that speak only of the sweet serenity of the soul: dark, -dreary, desolate night, filled with treacheries, conspiracies, murders, -sprites, and hobgoblins, and bright, mellow sunshine, awakening every -impulse and arousing every feeling to chaste delights! The terrors of -guilt must indeed be fathomless, if it mixes a remorseful recollection -with every smile, and tortures with mental anguish even the moments -treasured for repose. Excitement cannot silence or drive thought from -the brain, and retirement cannot prevent the soul from shrinking from -its own pollution. “All nature is too weak a fence for sin,” observes -an ancient poet, and “hell itself can find no fiercer torment than a -guilty mind,” remarks another. Whatever, reflected Peter, may be the -evil practices of the world, it cannot avoid the furies which they -invoke, nor escape the terrors of their revenge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> - -<p>Ah! see my worthy friend approaching. He is a preacher, and I believe a -good man, who loves his fellows, and means all mankind well. His head -and heart, however, do not work well together—the one is as empty -as the other is full. Well, if the devout Japanese can perform his -devotions by machinery, having his <i>chu-kor</i> constantly fixed in -some running stream, where it never ceases praying for the prosperity -of his house, why may not we go through ours with equal convenience? -We are told that our ceremonies seldom trouble our hearts, and if so, -surely there is little reason why they should trouble our tongues -or limbs. Some such reflection, no doubt, has induced our people to -invent many fashionable and easy modes of getting into heaven, for -which they deserve lasting gratitude; but then the ways of the Lord are -inscrutable, and he has raised up a brood of stupid, prosey, old-women -preachers to pest and afflict them. They may make the sanctuary airy, -or shut out the chill, together with their servants, and then snooze -away on soft, easy cushions, just as though it was the most paltry -trifle to inherit the kingdom; yet the Lord is generous, and will -frequently remind them of their error by inflicting upon them the -sermons of such stupid though good meaning servants as my friend here. -When, therefore, reflected Peter, we rightly understand the uses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> of -“bad preachers,” a very common and very equivocal complaint, they -reveal a design the wisdom of which it is sinful to censure.</p> - -<p>The dumpy individual yonder, wearing the badge of authority, is -a worthy constable. Like the great number of his class, he is an -excellent man for his calling, wanting both heart and brain, and being -consequently little troubled with conscience or integrity. Every -poor wretch, whom misfortune has dragged beneath our compassion, -adds a trifle to his purse, and immeasurably to his glory. Living -on the world’s depravity, he seeks to deprave it the more, that he -may increase the profits of his trade. Under the plea of justice he -is constantly outraging its holy decrees, and instead of protecting -society, he has become one of the worst of its pests. He will boast for -hours of his shrewdness, and gloat with wonderful exultation over the -ruin of a victim to his formidable oath. Justice would be fearfully -crippled without his excellent eyes, whose vision neither doors nor -masonry can shut out, and rendered almost entirely powerless without -his ears, which happily possess the sharpness to detect the minutest -particulars of a crime carried wonderful distances through the whispers -of the wind. Though a score should surround him and witness an event, -he would hear more than their forty ears, and surprise them all at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -absolute worthlessness of their eyes, when he came to narrate his tale -in that convenient arena for the exhibition of his talents, a criminal -court. Like the pander in Terence, “to have the knack of perjury” he -considers a necessary accomplishment, and he never fails to bring down -his game when once fairly brought within the range of his oath. Ah, -reflected Peter, how many a poor wretch’s fate has depended upon so -excellent a swearer, and no one pitied him!</p> - -<p>In that slender young man you behold a miserable victim to his own -base passions. He moves along, a loathing disgrace to himself, -encountering the contempt of all who have not fallen equally low in -general esteem. You will preserve your reputation by following their -example, and carefully avoiding him. His evil habits have rendered him -so exceedingly infamous that nothing less than the sudden acquisition -of about fifty thousand dollars could make him a respectable man in -the estimation of our community. Should fortune thus favor him, you -may consider the interdict removed, and gain credit by doing obeisance -alike to him and his sins. What an excellent badge of character, -thought Peter, that can work such marvellous changes in public opinion, -and hide more faults and render invisible more defects than the mystic -ring of Gyges.</p> - -<p>There is a poor fellow whose head has been turned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> by not properly -inquiring into the good subject which engrossed his attention. Running -wild in his good excitement, he at last fancied he was blessed with -extraordinary power, and for a time labored with exceeding great -industry in casting out devils! He has now, however, abandoned the -excellent work, declaring that he found so many possessed that his -efforts were rendered entirely useless, and vowing that the harvest -is still as great as it was ages ago, and the laborers equally few. -No doubt, thought Peter, he who shall undertake so laborious a task, -will have little time for idleness, for to set all things right for -eternity, would require nothing short of eternity itself.</p> - -<p>When nature made that man yonder, it no doubt went outside of itself -in search of additional material. He is a compound too singular to -have been made up entirely of its own qualities. He practices medicine -without being able to read; plays the preacher and sometimes the -prophet, and occasionally acts the pettifogger. By the one he pretends -to save lives, souls by the other, and property by the third. He prays -vociferously and predicts astounding developments, but never pays his -debts; he is vehement in his denunciations of falsehood, but takes to -lying quite naturally when it promises a fair remuneration; he deplores -the errors of the world, and professes infallibly to drive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> away the -charms of witches; he denounces credulity, and sees “spooks;” he is a -philosopher, and pow-wows until exhausted in breath over all diseases -too powerful for his remedies. Never entertaining more than one idea -at a time, he must be ruled by it, no matter what it be or to what -foolishness it may lead him. To-night he may dream of some impossible -event or marvellous discovery, and to-morrow he will proclaim it as a -settled fact or superhuman revelation. He is constantly propounding -schemes to revolutionize the opinions and change the manners and -practices of the world, and yet swears by his faith in predestination. -A mass of incongruities, an embodiment of nonsense, he nevertheless -finds dupes who, perhaps tired of existence, will swallow his -prescriptions, meet their doom through his prophecies, and go to ruin -through his counsel. Well, reflected Peter, many a man has prospered -just because he was ignorant and stupid, and where wisdom starves -foolishness must often grow fat.</p> - -<p>Here you may behold a poor victim of misfortune, and a melancholy -illustration of how much human nature is capable of enduring. From his -boyhood he has been forced to encounter the terrors of adversity, and -submit to the agonies of poverty and want. The thumps and cuffs, he -declares, originally intended for equal distribution amongst several -scores, through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> some sad mistake, have daily been heaped upon his -single head, nor could he dodge the most trifling bump. Unable to -counteract his evil fate, he eventually sought refuge against it by -adopting the life of the soldier. Thus flying into the face of his -destiny, with the odds all against him, he only aggravated it the more, -adding to his miseries and increasing his privations. He has figured -upon many a field of carnage, but fortune has ever refused to send some -stray ball to end his career. Abbas, the Persian king, to prevent the -indignities of his misfortunes from falling upon his wives, commanded -their heads to be cut off in case he lost the battle—certainly an -infallible preventative. Not being disposed to apply so rigorous a -remedy to obtain relief, that unhappy creature has continued to submit -to the fatalities he could not avoid, and perhaps there are few evils -in nature which he has not felt. Though he has won the reputation of -a brave soldier, it is the only thing he has ever gained from his -countrymen, save their ingratitude. He has been to the wars, and -returned to beg his bread. He has stood a faithful sentinel over his -country’s honor in times of danger, and in its peace and prosperity -he has hungered and thirsted, and no one pitied him. He has grappled -with the foe, and been victorious: he has fought against his fate, and -it conquered him; yet he is the same old patriot still. It is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> said -that the enjoyments of life always counterbalance its ills, but he can -present a tear for every pleasurable emotion he has ever experienced, -and a pang for every impulse of joy that has ever lighted up his soul. -There is, reflected Peter, a hardness of heart in the world which -sometimes seems directed against a single individual, making his -existence a fearful burthen and rendering even his hopes a terror to -himself.</p> - -<p>See there—an excellent humbug. He pretends to science, and under -the pretext of enlightening our people, he has visited our town. To -instruct the public is certainly an honorable employment, but he is -a miserable preceptor. In the science to which he pretends he is a -marvellous fool, but as an imposter he is a cunning knave. Knowing his -ignorance, he wisely seeks to take advantage of the public curiosity, -and by working it into a state of itching excitement, he effects -more for himself than the most consummate skill or knowledge could -attain. His stupid lectures are nightly greeted by gaping crowds, -for which he is solely indebted to the fact, that he has provoked -the general inquisitiveness through the common and always effectual -expedient—giving private lectures to the ladies! Arouse the morbid -tastes of a community, and the silliest mountebank will receive its -encouragement. What a happy and convenient thing is science, reflected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -Peter, not only furnishing a sufficient excuse for all kinds of -familiar discourse, but also taking off our hands much unpleasant labor -by giving currency to such magnanimous instructors.</p> - -<p>Here you may recognise an uncongenial creature who could not survive -a single day without some object upon which to exercise his malice. -Though he may never before have seen you, you may rest assured he -will report you a villain, or something not far removed from one. Of -course, it is his especial business to know all concerning you and your -possessions, and his imagination will readily account for everything: -in such a manner, too, as to leave you little cause for self-esteem. -His only true delight appears to be in slander, and he would barter -heaven for a bit of scandal; yet it were folly to endeavor to avoid -him, for he is not without numerous counterparts whom you could -scarcely hope to escape, though you should immediately quit the town. -Should we now, reflected Peter, revive the ancient punishment of the -Poles, who publicly forced the slanderer beneath a table and there -compelled him to bark three several times, declaring that he “had lied -like a dog,” what a fearful and terrific yelling and howling would -suddenly be set up in the world!</p> - -<p>See yonder—a “clever fellow.” He has managed to store his head with -an abundance of old jokes and anecdotes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> which, having formed an -effectual barrier against anything else entering into it, are ever at -his service. His tongue never flags, which may perhaps be owing to the -light burthens it is required to bear, for he never troubles it to give -expression to a heavy thought or weighty idea. It is said that Tithonus -was transformed into a grasshopper on account of his inclination to -talk, but the same propensity has only succeeded in converting that man -into a liar. He can sing a song, whistle a jig, and although he may -have talent to play a tolerable tune, it must be confessed he plays -a game at cards with much greater skill. Polite and affable, he has -the address to pass for a gentleman, which, together with a readiness -to do their little errands and oblige their whims, brought him into -great favor with the ladies, as you observe he is kindly recognised -by every one who passes by him. He has a happy faculty of adapting -himself to the company into which he may be introduced; and by long -practice he has become so expert, that he now finds no more difficulty -in entertaining a circle of staid, sober, and inquisitive dotards -with “old wives’ fables,” than in directing some licentious carousal. -Amongst the gifts with which nature has blessed him, none has proved -of more service to him than his excellent stomach, which seems to be -perfect proof against the law of “wear and tear.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> He can keep you -company at the table until you become stupid, drink your health until -you become drunk, and then coolly furnish you with a lying excuse to -avert the threatening frowns or pacify the angry rage of your wife. -His opinions and his conscience are alike pliable, which enables him -without trouble to suit himself either to your mind or heart, or to -both if required. He will defend the prejudices and errors of the one -with true friendly zeal, and commend the good of the other with the -enthusiasm of a saint, or encourage its wickedness with the skill of -a panderer. Whatever pleases you will be certain to delight him, and -he will soon be so assimilated to your tastes as to declare you his -“second self.” A rioting, roistering life, however, best comports with -his fancy, and he is constantly leading some of his numerous friends -into indecorous exploits or lawless adventures. He swears the world -was “made for sport,” and why should he be as morose as an anchorite, -or shut himself up like some sleepy monk, too drowsy to brush a fly -from his nose? Then, too, he is so very liberal—not only generously -sharing his pleasures with you, but even providing you with excellent -reasons why you should partake of them, and reducing your most heinous -offences into “common, every-day peccadilloes.” Are you young, he will -persuade you that few faults or vices are so monstrous as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> to be denied -a place amongst youthful follies; and if old, what could be wiser than -to employ the little time remaining for you in the pursuit of pleasure -and enjoyment? Freely mingling with all, and never finding fault with -any, his accomplishments or traits of character have won for him the -fine distinction of being a “very clever fellow,”—which to you may -mean that he is an excellent and worthy man, inclined to society and -familiar colloquies; whilst to another it would simply indicate that he -is a silly and amusing clown, or a shrewd and cunning villain. Well, -though such distinction may be highly honorable, it has been courted by -so many, and is now so promiscuously conferred, that I make it a rule -always to look with caution upon him who wears it, and only trust him -in proportion to his cleverness.</p> - -<p>Easy Peter heard nothing more, for his attention was here arrested by -a large, overgrown youth, who was leaning against a ponderous tree -which had very magnanimously been spared from the axe, in the progress -of improvement, for the benefit of weary and sweltering pedestrians. -This venerable relic of a past age, still standing erect with its -extended branches, as if defying the inroads of time, had long been a -great favorite with all the lazy loungers of the place, and its huge -trunk, to the height of some five or six feet, presented a surface<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -whose glistening and greasy smoothness could not have been imitated by -any tradesman’s skill. Many were the changes it had witnessed, both -in the old time and in the new, and there was not a loiterer within -miles around whose faults and foibles had not been exhibited beneath -its sheltering branches. Here the idle personages of the town would -congregate in knots and coteries, detailing for the thousandth time -their dry anecdotes, stale jokes, and wonderful traditions, in many of -which the aged tree itself bore so conspicuous a part that nothing but -its constant and inflexible immobility could have satisfied you that it -was not a moving, active, and sensible creature. This happy retreat had -become so very attractive indeed, that many an unpleasant and unquiet -home was abandoned for its more peaceful shades; and numerous were -the imprecations uttered against it by the ill-tempered dames of the -neighborhood, who, rather than acknowledge a less creditable cause in -their own tongues, accused the unconscious tree of enticing away their -husbands to the great annoyance and neglect of themselves. If evil -wishes could have blasted it, it would not have survived a single hour; -and there was never a thunder cloud seen in the distance which was not -hailed with many a prayer that the storm might terminate by casting -its fragments and splinters to the winds. Though these viragoes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> could -quickly raise terrific tempests around their husbands’ ears which never -failed to take effect, the thunderbolts of nature had very wisely been -placed beyond their reach; and thus they may renew their vengeful -imprecations and malignant wishes, but the venerable tree continues to -rear its towering form, and their disobedient husbands still take their -ease beneath its shady limbs.</p> - -<p>It was one of these idle individuals whom Peter now beheld, and his -appearance sufficiently indicated that he had inherited a full portion -of the rewards usually attending the habits to which he was addicted. -His old, weather-beaten hat admirably betokened that it had done good -service in its time. Although the many misfortunes it had encountered, -and the narrow escapes it had made, left some very visible impressions, -they had failed to deprive it of its entire brim and crown, and the -shreds that remained still adhered to each other with a tenacity that -spoke eloquently of their former harmonious love. His ill-conditioned -apparel, like a divided household, evinced a strong disposition to -mutiny and separate, and though much had been done to keep it together, -evidently by his own unskilful hands, it still obstinately resisted his -kind endeavors. Rent pieces of what had once borne a resemblance to -cloth dangled loosely about his ankles, his knees and elbows,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> refusing -to be confined, had broken through the tender barriers that had encased -them, and many an old patch about his person would flap and flutter as -the soft breeze whispered by him. These outward evidences of decay, -having penetrated no deeper than his garments, exhibited his healthy -and robust proportions in attractive and amusing contrast. A smile of -satisfaction, which many of his more fortunate and prosperous neighbors -might have envied, only contributed to bring out his prominent lips in -bolder relief, and his countenance was radiant with that self-content -which admires whatever is presented, and finds no fault with anything -but inconvenience and labor. Happily for him, his rulers were more -indulgent than Draco, the Athenian law-giver, who punished idleness -with death, and the laws under which he lived more lenient than those -of the ancient Gauls, which imposed a penalty upon the young for -exceeding the measure of their girdles, because “so large a paunch, -at such early years, could proceed from nothing else but laziness and -gormandizing.” Blessed by having been born in more auspicious times, -he seemed fully aware of his better destiny. Leaning against the shady -side of his venerable friend, in whose mute companionship he so much -delighted, he was looking leisurely around, as if engaged in taking -the exact measurement of every object that met his vision. His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> easy -carelessness appeared to make him oblivious of the busy world, being -only occasionally disturbed as he gazed, now upon some blackened -chimney, perhaps scenting the delicious odors of a grand Epicurean -feast in the ascending smoke, then upon some stately mansion, no doubt -pondering upon the tempting yet unattainable luxuries preparing within.</p> - -<p>The more Peter contemplated this newly discovered subject, the more -did the apparent similarity in sympathies and habits to himself, -elicit his admiration. There is no one, thought he, so eminently wise -and philosophic as the genuine loafer. Whilst the rest of mankind are -struggling and grasping, losing to-morrow what they held with tenacious -clutch to-day, this idle philosopher looks calmly on and laughs at the -butterfly chase. He sees his fellows contending with bitterness and -jealousy for a fancied good, and beholds the only pleasure it could -afford crushed in their own hands in their eagerness to attain it. In -the conflict around him, the passions of men are arrayed against each -other, and the good sentiments of their natures compelled to yield -before the concussions they encounter. It is a struggle in which he -sees the most vicious too often carry off the greatest prizes, whilst -none retires from the field without leaving a portion of his soul -behind. Others may follow the alluring promises which tempt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> them, and -be carried away by the first surging wave of excitement that sweeps -along, he remains unmoved. Let the world go as it will, he betakes -himself to the sweet shade of some friendly tree, and calmly, though -rudely it may be, philosophises upon the vanities which dazzle other -eyes and bedizzen other heads, but never soften the bed of the grave, -nor promise repose beyond it. He knows that heaven is not to be -purchased by the fleeting things that charm the eye and gratify human -vanity, and the harmony of his spirits is never broken up in conflicts -to possess them. Happily the dial of time moves on, never too slow nor -too fast for him, and his even temper keeps him in a perpetual calm. -Unmoved by the discord around him, he remains content in his solitary -leisure, or quietly takes his ease with his companions, furnishing a -worthy illustration of genuine and perfect freedom. Even Tully himself -could not look upon that man as properly free who had not the privilege -of sometimes doing nothing—a privilege rightly appreciated and justly -exercised only by the loafer.</p> - -<p>As Peter was indulging in these and like reflections, the vision upon -which he gazed, and which had occasioned them, suddenly vanished. -The rustling of the leaves had aroused him from his slumber, and -behold! all had been but a dream. Rubbing his eyes and collecting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -his wandering thoughts, the only realities that greeted his returning -senses were the hot sun above him, whose burning rays, no longer -arrested by the shadow, which had gradually moved in another direction, -had for some time been illuminating his countenance, and the unpleasant -recollection that the village and his home were still several -miles distant. To have his dreamy fancies thus dispelled by such a -disagreeable transition, at some other time, might have urged him to -the exhibition of no little ill-temper; but now he had enough to occupy -his mind in reflecting upon the diversified visions of his dream. These -he reviewed again and again, until unable to submit any longer to -that itching desire which so often disturbs the ease of poor mortals -when they imagine they have something interesting to communicate, he -arose and slowly commenced the exceeding great labor of walking to the -village. He reached it at last, just as the sun was sinking into the -far west, and panting from the heat, more than from the exertion, he -again seated himself in front of the tavern. He had added greatly to -his store, and at once commenced to detail the events of his dream, and -from that day to this he has faithfully continued to narrate them to -every willing or unwilling listener.</p> - -<p class="right p0"> -M. H. -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONCLUSION">CONCLUSION.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>Although the editor cannot see the least necessity for informing the -readers of the “Records” that they have now reached the end of his -book, (a fact which they would so certainly have discovered without his -aid,) his reverence for well-established precedents would not permit -him to consider his volume fully completed without a “Conclusion.” -Those who have thus far perused it, must have observed that the -papers it contains were the products of intervals of time stolen from -the regular pursuits of their authors. This, however, though it may -be somewhat of an apology for the imperfections of the manuscripts -themselves, can afford no excuse for the editor. He fully acknowledges -his responsibility for all the faults of the book, well knowing that he -cannot be justified in thrusting it before a public already so terribly -afflicted with the dregs of literature, unless it shall contain -something to amuse or instruct. This reflection, at one time, overcame -his determination to send the manuscripts to the publisher. Upon more -mature deliberation, however, he blundered upon the conclusion, that -if this be not, in fact, the age of literary mediocrity, our people -have so much indulged it that it has, in its bold effrontery, risen -to a premium and obtained greater “success” (to use a publisher’s -term,) than ever crowned the highest talent. Where brave men had -failed, the coward often succeeded, and thus infused<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> a boisterous and -overflowing courage into the whole army of little patriots, making -them as presumptuous and pugilistic as the saucy cur which thinks the -honor lies in attacking its superiors rather than in conquering them. -A similar cause, it may be, has produced like effects amongst authors, -and the editor is by no means certain that it has not been instrumental -in emboldening him to send his volume forth upon its voyage. However -this may be, he can now only bespeak for it the treatment which the -reader may think it deserves—nothing more. He might perhaps have made -better selections from the stock on hand, but he is not certain that -this would have added to the attractions of the book. He can only -promise, that upon the success of this volume of the Records, depends -the fate of the rest—whether they shall be given to the world, or -remain in the murky receptacles of the Old Association.</p> - - -<p class="p0 center p2">THE END.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">Transcriber’s Note</h2> - - -<p>In a few cases, obvious errors in punctuation have been corrected.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_29">Page 29</a>: “and especialy with such” changed to “and especially with -such” “Impelled by an irresistable” changed to “Impelled by an -irresistible”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_46">Page 46</a>: “by the irresistable teachings” changed to “by the -irresistible teachings”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_50">Page 50</a>: “and Montagne observes” changed to “and Montaigne observes”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_86">Page 86</a>: “fully ackowledged the devil” changed to “fully acknowledged -the devil”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_96">Page 96</a>: “we rightly understaud” changed to “we rightly understand”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_104">Page 104</a>: “of their native cotemporaries” changed to “of their native -contemporaries”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_155">Page 155</a>: “nor cooly exchange” changed to “nor coolly exchange”</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OAK SHADE, OR, RECORDS OF A VILLAGE LITERARY ASSOCIATION ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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