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swallowed up before it becomes due,-and bills, it may be, for wardrobe, &c., allowed to accumulate into debts of magnitude,that man fast floats to the ocean of embarrassment.

Nor can he enjoy life, although

he may be said to live the life of a man of pleasure. However gaiety may seem to hover o'er "midnight hours, which now no more know former hopes of rest," his majority of hours are far from enviable, even by him who seems to move in a sphere, and to labour under difficulties and discomforts, at once very different and very trying. This is no fanciful position. How often have I known those who started with fair fortunes and high hopes, entail a blight upon their prospects, and all the discomforts, and more than the discomforts of poverty, from the poor ambition to keep pace with, and to ape some “ dashing friend," whose coffers being better filled, might hold out longer, but whose satisfaction was not a whit greater than their own-known them to possess

much occasion there is to yield a little consideration to youth. Having said this much, perchance the further reflections I am about to indulge in, as coming from the pen of one inclined to view the thing as I do, may not lose any part of the influence their trash entitles them to possess. They may appear, perhaps, rather opposed to the temper and tendency of the above, but, nevertheless, they are not less consistent. The bent and scope of my preceding view of indiscretion, or error, on the part of youth at the "start in life," and the consequences it may entail, may seem to be at variance with prudent reasoning on the one hand, and to disagree with the perspective I am about to glance at it on the other. I may be said to have partially argued for youths' initiation into scenes of pleasure and dissipation. Not so; I but say youth will be youth, and will essay those scenes which prejudice abjures; and we must not always anticipate inimical results, because its warmth and inexperience hurry it into excesses. But while I say head and heart, and all the warm and gushmake every allowance, no one deprecates the danger incurred by an uncontrolled plunge into pleasure's stream more than I do, under various aspects. Well I know, that

Faults in the life breed errors in the brain, And those reciprocally those again. Some--many, may essay and recover themselves, and prove at once better and wiser for the experience and conviction they have gained and felt; but in every case there is just reason to fear for the individual when all sail is hoisted in Pleasure's pursuit at the outset in life. There is ever ground to dread, lest the quicksands and rocks which bestrew its gulf may wreck youth's bark ere the pilot Reason is listened to; or that the warning may be appreciated too late to enable it to regain the fair sea of truly valuable aim and manly happiness. Youth once engulfed in Pleasure's vortex, we must trust to satiety's enforcing conviction of his having mistaken the road to happiness, and to his consequently shaking off the delusion; but its dangers, its hollowness, its insignificance, and the consequences it may carry in its train, should ever be pointed out and impressed, ere he is allowed to assume the reins of his own conduct. It may not-it will not keep youth from tasting, but it may preserve from too intemperate draughts. It ought ever to be impressed, that a man's career seldom tends, whatever his merits, to beget him esteem and respect, who herds wholly with the dissipated,-with the fluttering insect of mere fashion, or the lounging idler, whose sole aim seems how to get rid of time, apparently as valueless to himself as to others. If, to keep pace with such, it chances his expenses are at variance with his income, his next quarter ever

ing sensibilities, which can shed sunshine,
and scatter flowers upon life, and known a
false "start" so tinge their future, so as to
embitter deeply its cup,-and more, all the
while contemning the pursuits they had in-
volved themselves in, despising the compa-
nions they were following them with,-and
yet unable, so weak is human nature, and
so incompetent is man to surmount impres-
sions once received, and habits once con-
tracted, to shake off their fetters till they
had left ever-enduring marks. The man
who anticipates his income, and around
whom debts are daily crowding—and your
pleasure-pursuing men ever do, and must
experience such result-has much to en-
dure. He is forced to stoop to frequent
shifts, and evasions, and littlenesses, and to
facts inflictive to his pride, which must low-
er him in his own eyes, and derogate from
his estimation in the eyes of those who walk
an honourable and uncompromising path;
and this can be but little compensated for
by hours of fevered gaiety and excitement,
or being tonnish! To a man of sense, who
really feels the worthlessness, the insignifi-
cance, and the ruinous consequences of
such a career, but who, having got into the
stream, knows not very well how to regain
the bank again, and acquire former vantage
ground, reflective hours must be poison.
Once in, it requires an effort of resolution
greater than may appear on a casual view,
to shake off habits and propensities which
have wound around one, and grown into
strength; and greater still to display your
entailed difficulties to the world, which is so
ready to sneer at, and so little inclined to
make allowance for indiscretion. And how
many men of fine sense have we not known
under the influence of the infatuation I

would portray! I will end by allusion to one instance sufficiently familiar: Who but may deduce an impressive lesson from a! The world saw in him an enlight ened and comprehensive mind,—a brilliant and fascinating wit,-saw, latterly, the one weakened in its energies, the other but the flare, the glimmer of a sinking taper, until wine and the revel of boon companionship had afforded their partial and temporary stimuli. Then only his conversation, his once all-commanding colloquial powers, would begin to gleam on the darkness, the ghost of what they had been. To know such a man resorting to petty shifts to raise a wanted supply,-descending to paltry evasion to ward off some call he was unprepared to meet, and forced to shelter himself under privilege of official capacity, to avoid the just indignation of disappointed creditors, was almost a libel on human nature. all originating in virtues which, running riot, degenerated into vices-in lavish and misdirected expenditure-in an absence of all economy or proper consideration-and in cherishing an overweening and unchecked predilection for boon society. There have been more than one legislator to whom these remarks may be applied, perhaps, but to whom I point, is easy to be seen; and if not, to those who are in darkness I would wish not to lift the veil. bar pleasure's approach, to deny the excitement and vivid enjoyment that is borne on the wing of those lighter hours which seem the temporary grave of all our cares, were to run into an opposite extreme; but the mark and character of such hours must be the recreation, not the business of exist

ence.

And

To

Every man, according to his fortune and station in society, must have some higher, more solid, and important pursuit. Indeed the absence of all such, annihilating the zest, is destructive of the pleasure these hours of relaxation can so well bestow. They are no longer hours of relaxation. The man who has no pursuit, nothing to do but to search for pleasures to fill up the aching void of circling hours, will soon find pleasure to elude his grasp, the faster he would hold her; and it will be well if the only consequence is to keep him

Stretched on the rack of a too easy chair,
To these, by everlasting yawn, confess
The pains and penalties of idleness.

I have somewhere met the remark-I can
pity the young fellow who floats unre-
piningly down the stream of embarrassment,
and who has sacrificed appearances, but
preserved his honour. If he has recovered
a sense of his erroneous views, in his pur-
suit of sublunary enjoyment, he is worthy
of pity, the misery is, conviction has come
a term too late. But though the extent of a
man's fortune should preserve him from the

discomforts of pecuviary embarrassment, in
the mode of abusing, not using life I have
been deprecating, pecuniary embarrass-
ment must be held but the lesser evil; for,
above all, let me reiterate, that such a
career is neither so well calculated to yield
enduring happiness, nor the gratifying res-
pect of those around and connected with
you. I will but add, it will never hand
one's name to posterity, or but in con-
tempt, if high rank has directed the eyes of
contemporaries at one for better things.
'Tis but too true that Nature owns but one
aristocracy-her own.

What can ennoble sots, or fools, or cowards?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

BALLAD BY L. E. L.
The Proude Ladye.
"Oh, what could the ladye's beauty match,
An it were not the ladye's pride;
An hundred knights from far and near
Woo'd at that ladye's side.

The rose of the summer slept on her cheek,
Its lily upon her breast,

And her eye shone forth like the glorious star
That rises the first in the west.

There were some that woo'd for her land and gold,
And some for her noble name,

And more that woo'd for her loveliness:
But her answer was still the same.

There is a steep and lofty wall,
Where my warders trembling stand,
He who at speed shall ride round its height,
For him shall be my hand.'

Many turn'd away from the deed,

The hope of their wooing o'er ;
But many a young knight mounted the steed
He never mounted more.

At last there came a youthful knight,
From a strange and far countrie,

The steed that he rode was white as the foam
Upon a stormy sea.

And she who had scorn'd the name of love,
Now bow'd before its might,

And the ladye grew meek as if disdain

Were not made for that stranger knight.
She sought at first to steal his soul

By dance, song, and festival;
At length on bended knee she pray'd
He would not ride the wall.

But gaily the young knight laugh'd at her fears,
And flung him on his steed,-

There was not a saint in the calendar
That she pray'd not to in her need.

She dared not raise her eyes to see

If heaven had granted her prayer.
Till she heard a light step bound to her side,-
The gallant knight stood there!
And took the ladye Adeline

From her hair a jewel'd band,
But the knight repell'd the offer'd gift,
And turn'd from the offer'd hand.

And deemest thou that I dared this deed,
Ladye, for love of thee?

The honour that guides the soldier's lance
Is mistress enough for me.

Enough for me to ride the ring,

The victor's crown to wear;. But not in honour of the eyes Of any ladye there.

I had a brother whom I lost

Through thy proud crueltie,
And far more was to me his love,
Than woman's love can be.

I came to triumph o'er the pride
Through which that brother fell,
I laugh to scorn thy love and thee,
And now, proud dame, farewell!
And from that hour the ladye pined,
For love was in her heart,
And on her slumber there came dreams
She could not bid depart.
Her eye lost all its starry light,

Her cheek grew wan and pale,
Till she hid her faded loveliness
Beneath the sacred veil.

And she cut off her long dark hair,
And bade the world farewell,
And she now dwells a veiled nun
In Saint Marie's cell."

STANZAS BY T. C. SMITH.

In Memory's dream of other years
What thoughts arise!

Life's buried bliss and woe appears,
Like rainbows, shining through the tears
Of summer skies.

Mute is each animating sound

How silent now!

The curls that Beauty's forehead bound Now fling their lifeless threads around Death's awful brow!

The laughing cheek's warm sunny glow
Is dim and pale!

The bright eye answerless!—but oh,
Grim tyrant, who would look below
Thy sable veil?

It were a banquet for Despair
To dwell upon :

Wreck of the beautiful and fair,
Life's spirit is no longer there,—
But whither gone?

No, Memory, no! thy glowing dream
Yields no delight.

Avails it aught to know the stream
Of life was gilded by a beam,

That once was bright?

Death hurries by on pinion fleet,

And mars each bliss;

Dividing friends whose love was sweet,
Perchance in other worlds to meet,
But not in this.

Why revel, then, like bird obscene,
Upon the dead?

We know too well that they have been;
And canst thou from the bosom screen
That they are fled?

Past joy is present grief,-a flame

Which warmeth not.

Past sorrow like the simoom came,
Our hearts to wither; and its name
Were best forgot.

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WE have just received in the hand-writing of a polished and educated lady, a defence of woman, in reply to the essay signed H. G. B. in our second number. The view of the question taken by this spirited champion of her sex, is correct. In spite of lordly philosophy and cold stoicism, a noble-minded, generous, talented, and beautiful woman, with capacity to appreciate intellect and to confide in merit, is the brightest object in all creation. These are high qualities, and consequently we seldom see them combined in one person-that they do exist, and that they are to be found united, we firmly believe; and fortunate are the men that win their possessors. Woman has nothing to do with the abstruse sciences, we admit; but her mind should be cultivated, her ideas should be expanded, and her taste refined; the charm of intellect should mantle the beauty of her face, and give character to her bright eye and meaning to her polished brow. Thus adorned, she deserves and will command the confidence of the honourable, the generous, and the talented among men.

Sir; the very illiberal and unjust view taken of ourselves and condition by "A Lover's Thoughts on Love," induces the temerity of this rejoinder, although the hackneyed theme of the reciprocal merits and advantages of the sexes scarcely admits discussion. That youth fancy themselves in love, and injudiciously bestow mistaken sensibility, or that the author has experienced the illusions, errors, and follies belonging to the season of immaturity, I do not doubt; I must nevertheless believe in the not unfrequent occurrence in matrimonial friendship, of an imperishable and rational affection, in support of which, on the part of feminine excellence, are comprised, beside useful education, sweetness of temper, and every domestic accomplishment, neatness and simplicity, good taste and feeling to appreciate a highly gifted mind, and a disposition adorned by the unstudied graces of modest intelligence and propriety surrendering to the stage exquisite dancing and first-rate musical ability, and yielding to the coquet the arts and labours of the toilet. Such is the woman "whose price is above rubies," and whose soul, superior to the caprices of fortune,

dignifies and ennobles the object of its devotion: mutual virtue affording mutual support during this dreary sojourn, nor vainly seeking a perfection awarded only when we reach its habitations. Thrice happy she, in thus abandoning claims to an equality, as well mentally as physically forbidden, who can with grateful confidence repose upon her idol, leaving to him abstruse speculation, and recondite knowledge, proverbially unfitting even the "lords of the creation" for brotherly peace and charity, arousing baleful passions and implacable rivalries-at best a feeble glimmering, lighting obscurity, and pronounced a "vexation of spirit." The immortal Locke and Newton, and other great spirits, having dived deeply in its recesses, ended by confessing its vanity and poverty. A fatal preeminence, in competition with which, our author holds in light esteem, comforts, the consolation of the most exalted minds which he may look upon as instinct, but, which I blush to recount, are occasional and rare blessings—the want of which has harassed even the literary demigod, and driven weary exiles from the purgatory, rather than the paradise of home. Leave us then our most graceful prerogatives, and criticise imperfection with the leniency of erring humanity.-Was our philosopher "writing with his usual good sense," or indulging Utopian dreams, when he complains of our incapacity to confer unalloyed and exclusive felicity-evidencing man, in possession of his desires, yet still toiling for ambition, for fortune, or for fame. Must we, alas! bear censures arising from common frailty? Are we not told that these restless passions are implanted to show the futility of earth-born anticipation, and point to higher hopes?-that this unwearied search for happiness here forfeited, is the longing of an immortal nature, for that fulness of enjoyment reserved for a better being beyond the grave.

In what desert hast thou been bred-by what savage nurtured, that thou darest thus impugn thy chief solace and support? "Has thy cup been poisoned at its first draught?" Has destiny severed thee from maternal sympathy, sisterly friendship, and those thousand cares and tender weaknesses, sanctified by the female heart-an orphan and friendless, hast thou wept through life? if so, God shield thee. But if mere malice and wantonness inspired thy meditations, may every evil in the shape of woman light upon thee.-Mayest thou be ensnared by art, by folly, by a slattern, an idler, a pedant-the unceasing din of an assassinating tongue, and the iron bondage of termagant fetters. According to thy deserts, the fiends or the gods direct thee.

OCT. 1825.

For the New-York Literary Gazette.

What though

TO JULIAN.

the heart within her breast
Is cold" and lifeless now;
What though" the lips you've often prest,"
Have lost their "witchery" too;
And death's cold hand has dar'd to bind
Beneath his grasp so bare,

A maid" so sweet, so pure in mind,
So lovely and so fair;"-

What though your Mary ne'er can "know
Your fame and happiness;"

Nor" share your fortune" here below,

With every earthly bliss;--
Yet hush!-her spirit all divine

Is flutt'ring, ling'ring near;-
A beauteous soul, resembling thine,
That dreads to leave you here.
Held down by fond affection's tie,
By all that's dear on earth,
This spirit longs with you to fly

Where bliss awaits true worth;
Then say no more, your "peace is gone,"
Nor that your "hopes are dead;"
Nor sorrow thus o'er pleasures flown,

Although her smile has fled.

For brighter smiles shall kindly beam-
More lasting peace be given;-
More glorious rays of hope shall gleam
Upon the child of Heaven.

O! may your soul such smiles receive

Your bosom feel such peace;
Your heart no more in sadness grieve,

But know true happiness.

So when the weeping willow tree

Shall shade your narrow tomb;
And many a friend shall mourn for thee,
And weep to know thy doom:
Then may this spirit, heavenly fair,
Conduct you to your rest;
Oh! may you dwell for ever there,
And be with Mary blest.

IDA.

In a remarkable fine and powerful paper on the lamented decease of Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott observes, "His foot was always in the arena, his shield hung always in the lists; and although his own gigantic renown increased the difficulty of the struggle, since he could produce nothing, however great, which exceeded the public estimate of his genius, yet he advanced to the honourable contest again and again, and came always off with distinction, almost always with complete triumph. As various in composition as Shakespeare himself, (this will be admitted by all who are acquainted with his human life, and sounded every string on the Don Juan,) he has embraced every topic of divine harp, from its slightest to its most powerful and heart-astounding tones. There is scarcely a passion or a situation which his pen, &c. &c. His genius seemed as prolific The most prodigal use did not exhaust his powers, nay, seemed rather to increase their vigour."

as various.

New-York Literary Gazette. [rable event. This party consisted of two

Such was

the value of the government's due-bills at
money, and a French crown.
that time.

officers besides himself. The republican The Army of the Revolution.-It is not cellent wines. They were gentlemen, and landlord furnished a royal dinner and exfor the purpose of repeating common-place of course neither ate nor drank to excess. arguments on the injustice of neglecting in For this dinner the colonel paid four thoutheir age the veterans who were our na-sand five hundred dollars of the continental tion's support in their youth, that we resume this subject. Nor is it with the hope that any change in the conduct of our government towards this class of men may arise from any arguments that might be advanced. Distress, poverty, and desolation, when altogether unmerited, are the most eloquent pleaders with just and generous minds, and for many years the calamities of our revolutionary sires have called in vain upon their

But subsequently, the secretary of the treasury under the direction of congress, redeemed this paper, at the rate of twenty shillings in the pound. And who were the gainers? the officers and soldiers to whom it had been given in payment? No-ninetynine in a hundred had been compelled by their necessities to part with it at fifty and ninety per cent. to a set of speculators who prowled over the land in search of gain, during those times of peril and honour, when the high-minded and the gallant were embattled for freedom and fame. These speculators became rich by the redemption of this

sons for relief. What would be said of an individual whose welfare, fortune, and happiness had been established by the generous and confiding friendship of another, were he to desert that friend in his adverse hour, and leave him to struggle with the storms of life, unaided and alone? Has language an epithet of scorn sufficiently expressive to brand a being so vile and so degraded? Is paper, and we have seen more than one he not destitute of honour, of justice, of stately mansion which was founded on the honesty, in short, of that which comprehends necessities and distresses of the brave founall these, of principle? By what singular logic then, do we overlook a want of principle in aggregate bodies, and condemn it in individuals? Why is the infamy of the latter a thing of indifference in the former?

ders of the republic. We have more than once seen the speculator of the revolution in his costly carriage, and the soldier of the revolution bare-footed and in tatters, and

we have more than once called to mind the

words of the son of Sirach, "I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the earth."

At the close of the revolutionary war, the government of the United States was bankrupt. The officers and soldiers, whose affairs were generally more or less embarIt is said that time subdues feelings and rassed in consequence of their absence passions, and that hour after hour wears from regular business, were paid in due- away the strongest emotions, as drop after bills of the government, which instantly drop wears away the marble. If this be so, depreciated from fifty to ninety per cent. if the noblest and most sacred feelings canAn officer of the staff, whose seven years' not lastingly dignify and adorn the human pay amounted to seven thousand dollars, heart, if friendship must wither, and gratireceived it in continental money, which he tude must fail, we can at least contemplate sold shortly after, at the highest price, and them in their spring, ere the object by realized seven hundred. Thus he was ac- which they are excited, is lost in distance tually paid less than two shillings and six and in time. When man first reaps the pence per diem, for important and dis- benefit of kindness, when he has just escaped tinguished services during seven years. from danger and death by the intervention Afterwards, this paper degenerated nearly of a protector, then, if ever, will we find to worthlessness. A gentleman whom we have long intimately known, and who is still living, then a colonel in the regular service, gave a dinner-party at a hotel in Williamsburg, (Virginia,) soon after the battle of Yorktown, in honour of that memo

him grateful. Let us apply this test to the character of our nation forty years ago. She was just released from thraldom, freedom was on her hills, and safety was in her vallies. The wounds of her defenders were not yet healed, and the plain of Yorktown

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