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No. 8.

PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 25,

Terms.-Published every Thursday by E. Littell & Brother, corner of Chestnut and Seventh Streets, Philadelphia. It will contain four handsome engravings every year. Price Two Dollars and a Half a year, payable in advance.

Agents who procure and forward payment for four subscribers, shall receive the fifth copy for one year; and so in proportion for a larger number.

CHILDHOOD.

"Oh Life! how pleasant is thy morning."-Rogers. CHILDREN are but little people, yet they form a very important part of society, expend much of our capital, have considerable influence on the corn-laws, employ a great portion of our population in their service, and occupy half the literati of our day in labours for their instruction and amusement. They cause more trouble and anxiety than the national debt, the loveliest of women in her maturity of charms breaks not so many slumbers, nor occasions so many sighs as she did in her cradle; and the handsomest of men with full grown mustachios and Stultz for his tailor, must not flatter himself that he is half so much admired as he was when in petticoats. Without any reference to their being our future statesmen, philosophers and magistrates in miniature disguise, children form, in their present state of pigmy existence, a most influential class of beings; and the arrival of a mewling infant who can scarcely open its eyes, and only opens its mouth, like an unfledged bird, for food, will effect the most extraordinary alteration in a whole household; substitute affection for coldness, duty for dissipation, cheerfulness for gravity, bustle for formality; unite hearts which time had divided, soften feelings which the world had hardened; teach women of fashion to criticise pap, and grave metaphysicians to crawl on all fours.

Selfishness is so decidedly the most besetting and most prejudicial of the faults of mankind, that the mere circumstance of caring earnestly for another appears to make a rapid and favourable improvement of character. That other indeed, is more than half ourselves; pride, instinct and custom, unite to enforce its claims, but still it is not the identical ego about which too many of us are so exclusively interested, and he must be incorrigibly unamiable who is not a little improved by becoming a father. Some there are, however, who know not how to appreciate the blessings with which Providence has filled their quiver; who receive with coldness a son's greeting or a daughter's kiss; who have principle enough properly to feed, and clothe, and educate their children, to labour for their support and provision, but possess not the affection which turns duty into delight; who are surrounded with blossoms, but know not the art of extracting their exquisite sweets. How different is the effect of true parental love, where nature, duty, habit, and feeling combine to constitute an affection the purest, the deepest, and the strongest, the most enduring, the least exacting of any of which the human heart is capable! The selfish bachelor may shudder when he thinks of the consequences of a family; he may picture to himself littered rooms and injured furniture, imagine the noise and confusion, the expense and the cares, from which he is luckily free, hug himself in his solitude, and pity his unfortunate neighbour, who has half-a-dozen squalling children to torment and impoverish him. The unfortunate neighbour, however, returns the compliment with interest, sighs over the loneliness of the wealthy bachelor, and can never see without feelings of regret rooms where no stray plaything tells of the occasional presence of a

child, gardens where no tiny foot-mark re-
minds him of his treasures at home. He has
listened to his heart, and learned from it a
precious secret; he knows how to convert
noise into harmony, expense into self-gratifi-
cation, and trouble into amusement; and he
reaps, in one day's intercourse with his family,
a harvest of love and enjoyment rich enough
to repay years of toil and care. He listens
eagerly on his threshold for the boisterous
greeting he is sure to receive, feels refreshed
by the mere pattering sound of the darlings'
feet as they hurry to receive his kiss, and
cures by a noisy game at romps the weariness
and head-ache which ho gained in his inter-
course with men.

1830.

require you to prove every thing you assert, and are always on the watch to detect you in a verbal inaccuracy, or a slight mistake in a date. Indeed, it is not a little annoying, when you are whiling away the time before dinner in that irritable state which precedes an Englishman's afternoon meal, tired perhaps by business or study, and wishing for a few minutes' relaxation preparatory to the important tasks of repletion and digestion, to find your attempts at playfulness and trifling baffled in all directions. Turning from the gentlemen, to avoid the Funds or the Catholic Question, free trade, or the balance of power; driven from your refuge among the ladies by phrenology, or the lectures at the Royal Institution, But it is not only to their parents and near you fly to a group of children, in hopes of a connexions that children are interesting and game at play, or an interchange of nonsense, delightful; they are general favourites, and and find yourself beset by critics and examnitheir caresses are slighted by none but the ners, required to attend to Lindley Murray's strange, the affected, or the morose. I have, rules, to brush up your geographical and chro indeed, heard a fine lady declare that she pre-nological knowledge; and, instead of a demand ferred a puppy or a kitten to a child, and I wondered she had not sense enough to conceal her want of womanly feeling; and I know another fair simpleton who considers it beneath her to notice those from whom no intellectual improvement can be derived, forgetting that we have hearts to cultivate as well as heads; but these are extraordinary exceptions to general rules, as uncommon and disgusting as a beard on a lady's chin, or a pipe in her mouth. Even men may condescend to sport with children without fear of contempt; and for those who like to shelter themselves under authority, and cannot venture to be wise and happy their own way, we have plenty of splendid examples, ancient and modern, living and dead, to adduce, which may sanction a love for these pigmy playthings. Statesmen have romped with them, orators told them stories, conquerors submitted to their blows, judges, divines, and philosophers listened to their prattle, and joined in their sports.

Spoiled children, are, however, excepted from this partiality; every one joins in visiting the faults of others upon their heads, and hating these unfortunate victims of their parents' folly. They must be bribed to good behaviour, like many of their elders; they insist upon fingering your watch, and spoiling what they do not understand; like numbers of the patrons of literature and the arts, they will sometimes cry for the moon as absurdly as Alexander for more worlds, and when they are angry, they have as little mercy for cups and saucers as Bonaparte for Cobentzel's china vase. They are as unreasonable, impatient, selfish, exacting, and whimsical as grown-up men and women, and only want the varnish of politeness and mask of hypocrisy to complete the likeness; in short, they display to all their acquaintance those faults of character which their wiser elders show only to their family and dependents.

Another description of children, deservedly unpopular, is the over-educated and super-excellent, who despise dolls and drums, ready only for instruction, have no wish for a holiday, no fancy for a fairy tale. They are the representatives of the old-fashioned, extinct class, who used to blunder through Norval's speech or Satan's address to the Sun, but far more perseveringly tiresome, more unintermittingly dull than their predecessors.-The latter excited your compassion by bearing the manner of victims, and when their task was over, were ready for a ride upon your foot, a noisy game at play, or a story about an ogress; but the modern class appear to have a natural taste for pedantry and precision; their wis dom never indulges in a nap, at least before company; they have learned the Pestalozzi system, and weary you with questions; they

upon your imagination for a story, or your foot for a ride, you are called upon to give an account of the Copernican system or the Pelopon

nesian war.

But notwithstanding the infinite pains taken to spoil Nature's lovely works, there is a principle of resistance in the goddess which allows of only partial success, and numbers of sweet children exist to delight, and soothe, and divert us, when we are wearied or fretted by grown-up people, and to justify all that has been said or written of the charms of childhood. Perhaps only women, their natural nurses and faithful protectresses, can thoroughly appreciate the attractions of the first few months of human existence :-the recumbent position, the fragile limbs, the lethargic tastes, and ungrateful indifference to notice of a very young infant, render it uninteresting to most gentlemen, except its father, and he is generally afraid to touch it, for fear of breaking its neck. But even in this state, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and nurses, assure you that strong indications of sense, and genius may be discerned in the little animal; and [ have known a clatter of surprise and joy excited through a whole family, matter afforded for twenty long letters, and innumerable animated conversations, by some marvellous demonstration of intellect in a creature in longclothes, who cannot hold its head straight. But however this may be, for it is dangerous to pronounce judgment in a case I have not investigated, and in which all womankind would be my opponents, as soon as the baby has acquired firmness and liveliness, as soon as it smiles at a familiar face and stares at a strange one, as soon as it employs its hands and eyes in constant expeditions of discovery, and crows and leaps from the excess of animal contentment, it becomes an object of indefinable and powerful interest, to which all the sympathies of our nature attach us, an object at once of curiosity and tenderness, interesting as it is in its helplessness and innocence, doubly interesting from its prospects and destiny; interesting to a philosopher, doubly interesting to a Christian. Who has not occasionally, when fondling an infant, felt oppressed by the weight of mystery which hangs over its fate! When we send an inquiring glance into the destiny of men, we have certain data of character, principles, and tastes to guide us; we may venture to say, "let Fortune do her worst, she cannot render our friend vicious, or cruel, or dishonourable;" but no such assistance is given us when we gaze on the impervious curtain which hides the eternal as well as temporal lot of a child. Perhaps we hold in our arms an angel, kept but for a few months from the heaven in which it is to spend the rest of an immortal existence; per

haps we see the germ of all that is hideous and hateful in our nature. Thus looked and thus sported, thus calmly slumbered and sweetly smiled, the monsters of our race in their days of infancy. Where are the marks to distinguish a Nero from a Trajan, an Abel from a Cain? But it is not in this spirit that it is either wise or happy to contemplate in any thing; better is it when we behold the energy and animation of young children, their warm affections, their ready, unsuspicious confidence, their wild, unwearied glee, their mirth so easily excited, their love so easily won, to enjoy unrestrained the pleasantness of life's morning; that morning so bright and joyous, which seems to "justify the ways of God to men," and to teach us that Nature intended us to be happy, and usually gains her end till we are old enough to discover how we may defeat it. (To be continued.)

THE SENSES.

(Concluded from page 50.)

Mr. Zest was next about to address the assembly, when Mr. Common Sense reminded him that Mr. Contact had, by lot, the precedence, an order, he remarked, accordant with that of nature, since we must touch before we caste. Mr. Zest, apologizing for an unintentional violation of the rule laid down, took his seat, observing, that he could, were it decorous, combat the assertion, as taste must follow touch without any possible intervention; indeed, he said, their course appeared to him parallel, but he intended to be first last, though he might be behind before. At the close of his reply, Mr. Contact thus proceeded:

Perfectly willing should I have been, Mr. President, to yield to the learned gentleman who is to follow me, or to take any place in the arrangements of this day; satisfied, as I am, that I shall be able to adduce irrefragable arguments, though they may be offered to you in that simpler and graver style, which, I am happy to say, generally obtains, to the exclusion of every other, in those judicial courts to which I have been long accustomed to give my attendance. With unimpeachable propriety, doubtless, I might reply to statements made by the learned gentleman who has just taken his seat; and, were I to do so, I should dwell, notwithstanding his impassioned peroration, on the fact that he has exaggerated most unduly the claims of his client. For how, I ask, does the sense of smell originate but by the odoriferous particles of bodies touching certain nerves with which the human system is endowed? Without such contact, there can be no sense of fragrance; to smell, is therefore, passive instead of active; it it implies touching-it is, in fact, the consoquence of being touched. Besides, supposing it otherwise, the sense of smell would be a nonentity without the exercise of other powers. Had we been endowed with it, apart from other senses, our sensations would have been simple feelings of pleasure or pain, which we should have as littlo ascribed to an external cause, as any of our spontaneous feelings of joy and sorrow; and even now, after a connexion has been formed between certain odours and certain objects, we invariably refer to a previous acquaintance, obtained from other means. Indeed, the assertion is capable of abundant proof, that the greater and most valuable part of our knowledge is derived from the sense of touch. I see the learned gentle man, who first addressed this assembly, smile at the remark; does he moan, I ask, to controvert it?

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was occasioned by the recollection of some in- | stances in which knowledge by touch would, at least, be attended with formidable difficul ties;-such, for example, as a general's knowledge of the dispositions of an army of 30,000 men, or a traveller's of an extensive and varied landscape, or an artist's who wished to exhibit the proportions of an immense pile of rock, or a magnificent edifice-to discover these things by touch appears to me to savour of the marvellous no less than the ludicrous.

Mr. Contact. The learned gentleman need not, I am persuaded, be apprized that what is true may be marvellous and ludicrous; but, whatever be the impression produced on his mind, I repeat it as a truth, unaffected by the cases he has cited, that touch is the great source of satisfactory intelligence.

That this may be evident, be it remembered, that all the images painted on the retina are inverted, and consequently that it is by touch correcting the error of vision that we are kept from imagining the world turned upside down -that wherever vision, obstructed from infancy, has been acquired in mature life, as the result of a surgical operation, the actual magnitude, figure, and position of bodies have to be learned like a new language; so that it is not by seeing, but by feeling, that a cube is distinguishable from a sphere;-in a word, we learn to see, the indispensable auxiliary to this acquisition being the sense of touch, to whose tuition in early life we are laid under the highest obligations through every part of our subsequent career.

Indeed, to this power we owe our freedom from one of the grossest delusions that ever attempted to shackle the human mind-I mean the system of idealism, of which Pyrrho was the great founder; which not only obtained a place in the metaphysics of Hindostan, but in England and France, aided by the sophistries of Malebranche and Berkeley. But for this, Sir, I must have imagined myself a nonentity, and every object around me as having at best a problematical existence; and, when I consider that the sense of touch has averted these degrading and sceptical visions, and given to myself and to all natural objects a conscious reality; and, in fine, that it is the power first put forth, and that which fails last, I am powerfully impelled to require the acknowledgment of its precedence.

Mr. Zest. Allow me to congratulate you, Sir, as our respected president, on the harmony of feeling and intention which marks the present discussion; in other cases only one can have precedence, but in this we are all resolved to be first. No sooner had Mr. Optic opened his lips than it was evident "he had an eye" to this distinction; to secure it Mr. Odour cares not for the suffrages of "the noes;" Mr. Contact feels a mortal repugnance to suppose it ideal; while, if it leave me, it will be obviously tasteless and insipid. In this Cabinet, then, there are four premiers; for it is not likely that my friend, Mr. Auricle, will claim to be a fifth. Disposed as his client is to take both sides, he is always behind; and will, I am persuaded, listen to no proposition to advance, aware, doubtless, that he could gain no countenance if he did.

Adverting, however, to the merits of that power of which I am the humble advocate, I inight expatiate at length on the sacredness attached from earliest times to the rites of hospitality. To have eaten salt and bread, even with the freebooter of the desert, is to obtain a pledge of safety far more solemn than an oath. The violation of it by an Arab, in the slightest degree, would make him despicable to himself, and the object of marked abhorrence in his tribe; thus, where every other sense fails, that of taste demonstrates its potency. Nor need this excite surprise, when its influence on the notorious Jacoub ben Laith is remembered. He had broken into a

palace and had collected a heavy booty; but just as he was about to carry it off, he kicked something that made him stumble, when put

ting it to his mouth the better to distinguish it, he found it was a lump of salt, and, overwhelmed in consequence by the thought of sacrilege, he fled, leaving behind his accumulated treasure. On this ground, then, I might claim the honours of higher virtue than that to which the learned gentleman, Mr. Odour, has aspired.

But, Sir, permit me, though still addressing you, from this excursion in the desert to return home, and to contend that the pleasures of taste must always be associated with domestic enjoyments. What would they be, I ask, if instead of meeting three or four times a-day at the social meal, each of us, after the fashion of a distinguished individual, were to affirm that he sat all round a table by himself?" To look for happiness on this plan would be like expecting the charms of Raphael without the picture-of Milton without the poem-of Weber without the music; and, were it adopted in my dwelling, I confess I should be most at home when I was out. With this I might contrast the delights of domestic and social intercourse-the joy of the parent who beholds around his table an unbroken circle of affection and the gratification of the friend who receives at his hospitable board those to whom he cherishes the kindest attachmentbut to mention them is enough in such an assembly as this.

The learned gentleman, Mr. Odour, referred to the aid afforded by his client to the powers of vision; but every sense is indebted to mine: only let it be disregarded, and each of them must fail; the eyes will be closed to scenes of beauty, and the ears to melodious sounds; and though the world were bereft of odoriferous leaves and opening blossoms, or were even to become ideal, no consciousness of the change would be possessed. To avert such a crisis, to compensate the daily waste of the body, and to preserve that health and vi gour, without which a frail and feverish existence would be of comparatively little value, provision has been made in the demands of appetite, which furnishes a better guide than reason itself, since the voice of that noble faculty would often be disregarded, while that of appetite compels attention. Yes, Sir, by this means death and disease are kept at bay. "Between satiety on one side, and want on the other, the stream of health flows tranquilly along, which, but for these boundaries, would speedily waste itself and disappear; as the most magnificent river, which, if dispersed over a boundless plain, would flow almost into nothing, owes its abundance and majestic beauty to the very banks which seem to confine its waters within too narrow a channel." While then I gaze, as I do at this moment, on whatever is venerable in years and attractive in loveliness, I feel that I have only to make an appeal to gratitude for my client to triumph.

At the close of this address, Mr. Auricle thus proceeded:--In allusion, Mr. Chairman, to my facetious friend's opening remarks on precedence, I will only observe, that the intellectual pleasures of this day must be traced to that power of which I now stand forth the honoured advocate. For the deaf eloquence, whether rushing on the heart with a cataract's force, or falling upon it softly as the snow of heaven, can have no charms. On them, the mightiest means for the cultivation of the mind, the dominion of the passions, in a word, for the elevation of the character cannot even be brought to operate. Dark, dark indeed, must that soul be for whose illumination the eyes are the only media! Insensible must it also be to music's soothing and transporting strain, which sometimes forms a spell even more binding than that of the desert to which wo have been already referred.

"Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise, And bid alternate passions fall and rise; While, at each change, the son of Lybian Jove Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;

Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow -Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow; Persians and Greeks, like turns of nature found,

And the world's victor stood subdued-by sound!"

But, Sir, how should the value of hearing be estimated, when to it we are indebted for the use of verbal language. Speech is a power so strikingly distinctive of man, that, from his utterance of articulate sounds, he has been called "a divider of the voice." By its aid we express our wants, which, as soon as heard, obtain relief, diffuse through many channels the joy that rises as a spring in our own bosoms, and, like angelic powers, linger over the couch of the depressed and sorrowful, distilling peace for the troubled mind, and a healing balm for the wounded heart. Without it, indeed, we should have been without thought; and, had our whole race been thus destitute, the most gifted would have resembled the leading oxen of the fields, or monkeys of the wood; and man, now lord of the creation, had been no more than its degraded vassal. At the present day, wherever language can scarcely be said to exist, human nature appears most brutally debased, while we may trace, as the consequence of improvement, in this particular, the progress made in arts and civilization.

But even this benefit, vast as it is, is considerable, compared with the power of language in giving transmission and permanence to thought; so that each individual may not merely invoke the wisdom of his species, but inherit the accumulated acquisitions of all preceding generations, and especially the conceptions and discoveries of genius, which illuminates what is dark, harmonizes what is discordant, and creates what is not. By the ability which we owe indirectly to the ear, "the boundaries of time seem to be renewed-nothing is past, every thing lives;" the poet and the sage secure immortality; for while there is "a chain of thoughts of human kind from the origin of the world down to the moment at which we exist," another is in gradual preparation for those who shall live in remotest posterity. Selecting, then these topics from a multitude which might be advanced, I leave them to their effects on the minds of this assembly.

Mr. Common Sense now rose, and spoke as follows:-Most gladly do I tender my personal acknowledgments, and I doubt not I may add those of my friends around me, to the gentlemen whose eloquence has this day laid us under deep obligation; nor do I hesitate to express my conviction that the issue of our deliberations will prove beneficial. Among their results, I may specify the general persuasion that will prevail, that a question on which some suppose little can be said, may, notwithstanding, be strongly supported on due consideration-that "audi alteram partem" is a charge of the highest practical wisdom-and that the senses with which we are endowed, are of greater value than we commonly imagine. And here I must be allowed to remark, that the question of precedence ought not to have been agitated. For, as Diderot has said, "What a strange society would five persons make, each of them endowed with only one sense, and no two having the same." Differing as they must in all their views of nature, each would look upon the others with contempt, and they would, doubtless, treat each other as insane. The loss of one sense must be pronounced a calamity to the rest; it is only by the united and harmonious action of the whole, that the full end contemplated by the beneficent author of our being is answered. Besides, are there not other dependencies which the senses have, besides that which they have on each other? Had the atmosphere engaged a representative, he might have contended for the highest distinction, since air is the vehicle of odours, and the medium of sounds, and, were only two or three

of its properties changed or destroyed, the world would be unfit for the habitation of sen. tient beings; while, had an advocate for the mind appeared, he might have argued that the perception of the colour or softness, the fragrance or taste of a peach, was simply a certain state of the mind, which, after all, is the great instrument and seat of consciousness. And far beyond this might the Divine have advanced, while he exclaimed:

"Soft rolls your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,

In mingled clouds to Him whose sun exalts,

Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil

paints;"

and charged all the powers of man to unite in the sacrifice. For the future, then, let harmony pervade the microcosm of our common nature,

"And let us join Our several movements with the master wheel Which He, the unerring reason, keeps in Of the great world, and serve that sacred end

view!"

The President's address having been received with acclamation, the sentiments of it were embodied in a resolution which passed nemine contradicente, and the assembly separated, sine die.

LETTERS FROM CANADA.

We visited the College at Quebec on the ground of a previous acquaintance with the Professor of Philosophy-who was a native of New England, and a man of that shrewdness, and that peculiar tact in giving and acquiring information which is the birthright of every Yankee. The main building, which is from 2 to 300 feet in length, is parallel to the street, while the wing extends in front, and another from the other end in the rear. They are built with the strength of a castle-have a very antique appearance, and are of such size as would easily accommodate from 4 to 600 students. The rooms are convenient, and a number of them are reserved for the use of the Clergy who visit the city. There is an Infirmary for those members of the College, who are sick, with fine accommodations for bathing. The cooking apparatus and halls for eating were much in the style of those in our Colleges except that the students used pewter plates.-There is a Cabinet of Natural Science, and a Library of 4 or 5,000 volumes, mostly works of the Fathers; and like other College libraries in this country, very deficient in the books of modern date. In the rear of the College is a garden of several acres, enclosed by a high wall, and with broad gravel. led walks lined with shrubbery and flowers. Here and there were summer houses covered with vines-while in one part was a grove of full grown trees, in all the wildness and luxuriance of Nature. From a platform on the walls is a view of the bay and city of Quebec, and the romantic region around, which foreigners have thought the finest in America. There are 8 Professors and 40 or 50 students in theology, and 200 more students in the College. The latter study in rooms with Tutors, and wear long blue frock coats, with white cords on the scams and edges, and a cash of gay colours about the waist.-The students in theology, like the clergy, wear a loose black gown of undressed woollen, with a row of glass buttons thick set from the neck to the feet, and a black girdle about the waist. The French language is used in instruction, and a boy who enters without having studied Latin is nine years in completing the course. The whole expense is but 60 dollars per annum for each student. This is owing in part to the fund derived from Seigniories, a kind of feudal tenure, by which the college rents large tracts of land to tenants; and in part to the fact that the Faculty receive no salaries but their food and clothing, and being all ecclesiastics, they have no families to support. We went to the

room of the Bishop of Quebec, who resides in the college. This room was hung round with portraits of all his predecessors in office, 12 or 14 in number.

Our intercourse was with a few of the first French families in the city. There was much less of stiff restraint, than with us, and much more of that easy politeness and that expression of social, friendly feeling, which makes one feel at home among strangers. French was their common language, but they learn English at schools, and can speak it. The ladies sung songs in both languages, but preferfriends, (members of the bar) went with us to red English as more melodious. Two of our

the Falls of Montmorenci, a distance of 9 miles. We passed through the suburbs, which are without the walls, and consist entirely of whitewashed houses, one story high, crowded together on streets enclosing regular squares, and occupied by the poor and labouring classes. Our road lay through the pleasant village of into a gentle and uniform range of hills, while Beaufort-on the left the fertile grounds rose on our right was the river and the beautiful island of Orleans. Behind us rose the Heights of Abraham, and the city with its frowning battlements and munition of rocks, all forming a landscape of no small interest and beauty. The peasantry had an air of cheerful content, and a bow to them always met with a pleasant and polite return. Many of the women with broad brimmed straw hats like those of men, were labouring in the gardens and fields. The Falls are 30 or 40 rods from the mouth of the river, which is about 50 feet wide, and descends in one unbroken fall 240 feet. All greatness is comparative, and as we never before had seen a large cataract, the impression on our minds was truly sublime. We ventured on the rock which projects at the foot of the falls, and stood, until thoroughly wet with the spray, gazing on the sheet of foam as it poured over the rocks with deafening roar and terrific force and grandeur. It made us feel how feeble are the proudest efforts of human pow. er, when compared with the works of God.

On the banks of the St. Lawrence, near the Falls, are extensive lumber mills, with 80 saws and a variety of machinery for removing lumber, all moved by water taken from above the Falls. It passes through an aqueduct of plank enclosed on all sides and strongly bound with timber. In the distance of 40 or 50 rods it descends 240 feet, and strikes the wheel at the mills with tremendous force. The quantity of lumber was immense-and formerly 2 or 300 vessels used to load there in a season, but now not more than 40 or 50 are engaged in the trade. Just at evening we returned to the city, and after midnight, taking a farewell view of Quebec, and entering the steamboat, were soon on our way. The mists of evening were spread over the river, and all was still save here and there a boat was gliding over the water, the rowers singing some of their numerous boat songs, and keeping time to the music with the stroke of the oars. These songs we heard often on the St. Lawrence, and as their music came floating on the air, the effect was truly delightful.-N. England Review.

Beauty and Health-Females should be early taught the important fact, that beauty cannot, in reality, exist, independent of health; and that the one is absolutely unattainable by any practice inconsistent with the other. In vain do they hope to improve their skin-to give a "roseate hus" to their cheeks, or to augment the grace and symmetry of their forms, unless they are cautious to preserve the whole frame in health, vigour and activity. Beauty of complexion, and to a certain extent, that of shape also, is nothing more than visible health-a pure mirror of the performance of the internal functions, and of their harmony with the external portions of the system; the certain effects of pure air, cheerfulness, temperance, and of exercise uninterrupted by any species of unnatural constraint.-Jour of Health.

GENEVA.

Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face,
The mirror where the stars and mountains view
The stillness of their aspect in each trace
Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue.
Byron.

THE city of Geneva claims the distinction of high antiquity. It is frequently mentioned by the name it now bears in the Commentaries of Julius Cæsar.

No, never shall I lose the trace
Of what I've felt in this bright place;
And should my spirit's hope grow weak,
Should I, oh God! e'er doubt thy power,
This mighty scene again I'll seek,

'The

At this same calm and glowing hour, And here at the sublimest shrine That Nature ever rear'd to Thee, Rekindle all that hope divine, And feel my immortality! It became a republic in the year 1535, and Beyond the beauty and romance of its situaby degrees acquired the form of government tion, the city of Geneva has nothing in itself which is maintained to the present day. Its to merit particular notice. Few European earlier history, however, is involved in unusual towns of its size and importance are so sparingobscurity; and notwithstanding the ingeniously decorated with public monuments. speculations of many who have endeavoured to reconcile the conflicting testimony of ancient writers, none have hitherto succeeded in removing the veil with which tradition and ignorance have so long obscured it. These tenebræ seculorum will be a sufficient excuse for not pursuing such an inquiry, more especially as Geneva presents us with subjects far more interesting than the investigation of remote tradition.

The city is built at the head of the Leman lake, which is considered the finest piece of water in Europe. The waters abound with fish, and are famous for trout, which are often found of a prodigious size. At the opposite end the Rhone falls into the lake, which at some distance separates into two rapid streams, forming a small island in the town, and then reuniting pursues its course into France. The lake is bordered on one side by the Pays de Vaud, a country which was formerly conquered by the Canton of Bern from the Dukes of Savoy, This may, indeed, be considered one of the most enchanting spots in Europe. As far as the eye can reach, it is studded with towns, hamlets, gardens, and vineyards, and is bounded by the hills of Mount Jura. The Savoy side has a wilder and more romantic appearance, presenting a pleasing contrast to the Pays de Vaud. Huge mountains and tremendous precipices mect the eye on all sides, rising behind each other in every wild and fantastic form with which the imagination may choose to invest them. On the one side Nature is displayed in her most sublime and awful form, while on the other, she exhibits her gayest and most attractive attire. Thus, by a happy combination of the softest imagery with the grander and more majestic scenery, the neighbourhood of Geneva abounds with objects of surpassing interest. The hand of Nature has indeed marked the scene as one of her happiest labours. Every material is here com. bined that the poet or the painter could desire to excite the imagination or to stimulate a lingering fancy. The silver lake, which extends like a huge mirror from shore to shore, reflecting from its bright and polished surface the numberless beauties that adorn its banks, the lofty mountains that rear on every side their majestic heads, some clothed with eternal snows, and others delighting the eye with freshness and verdure, and the city itself, embosomed in its woods and waters, present a scene which, for harmonious combination and variety of imagery must stand unrivalled, even where beauty and sublimity most predominate. The glowing language of Rousseau and the lofty verse of Byron have been, not unworthily, employed in throwing round these romantic and favoured regions a halo of which neither time nor circumstance can ever deprive them. Moore too thus beautifully describes his feel ings on visiting the lake and valley for the first

time at sunset.

'Twas at this instant-while there glow'd
This last, intensest gleam of light-
Suddenly through the opening road
The valley burst upon my sight!
That glorious valley, with its lake,
And Alps on Alps in clusters swelling,
Mighty and pure, and fit to make

The ramparts of a Godhead's dwelling.

upper part, which rises on a gentle acclivity, is exceedingly picturesque. The houses are of stone, and well constructed. But the lower part offers rather an unpleasant contrast. The houses are many stories high, and from their appearance would seem to have been built for ages. They have heavy, projecting roofs, and on each side of the streets are erected cumbersome wooden arcades, under which the trading classes exhibit their ware and merchandise. In the water which divides the town there are also erected many heavy and unseemly buildings, apparently for the sole use of the washerwomen of Geneva. Indeed, this portion of the city being chiefly inhabited by the mercantile part of the population, is not very likely to meet with speedy improvement, since expense on the one hand and prejudice on the other are most effectual securities for the adherence of the citizens to the wisdom of their ancestors. The public walks and the ramparts are, however, replete with interest. Thence the eye of the tourist will be delighted with the brilliant succession of romantic villas, which rise like fairy mansions along the margin of the lake, and, combined with the scenes around, present a series of views as beautiful as they are varied. The lake itself perhaps partakes more of softness than of grandeur, and the pleasure of gliding over its waters, when the setting sun casts a mellowed light over the vivid and glowing scenery around, would be the summit of such enjoyment, did not the frequency of those fogs or vapours, which are the bane of this part of Switzerland, too often intervene and involve the glorious scene in mist and obscurity.

council of such-and-such a member (of course of the adverse party), who talked for two hours on the merest trifle in the world, and thought he was establishing his reputation as a statesman for ever."

Of all the important events which have contributed to the celebrity of Geneva, none claims so great a portion of interest as the Reformation, of which Geneva may be said to have been the cradle and the nurse. Had it not been for this precious home of liberty, which served as a rallying point for the reformers of all countries during the sanguinary terrors of persecution, the reformed doctrines would never have been so successfully promulgated, nor could their advantages have been so universally secured. The Genevese were early in the field, and to their exertions is the Protestant Church materially indebted for the rapid progress of its tenets, and for the foundation on which it at present stands.

(To be continued)

DESTRUCTION OF THE JANISSARIES. [Being part of an article in the Museum of Foreign Literature and Science.]

Mahmoud saw the absolute necessity of intro ducing European discipline among these troops. "Like Peter the Great, he found the domineering of his Prætorian guards no longer tolerable; and as Peter rid himself of his Strelitz, so Mahmoud determined to dispose of his Janissaries." Unlike the unfortunate Selim, Mahmoud possessed energy enough to adopt, and a relentless rigour to execute, any purpose. By promises, menaces, and executions, he brought over a majority of the Janissary officers to acquiesce in his plan. They agreed to furnish one hundred and fifty men from each regiment, and Egyptian officers were sent for to drill and discipline the new corps; but as Turks, like most ignorant people, annex more importance to words than things, and hate the very sound of any thing like an innovation on ancient usage, the ill-omened name of Nizamgedditte, or New Regulars, was laid aside, and the same thing, now named Nizam-attic, or the old regulars, satisfied the troops..

The 15th June, 1822, was appointed for a grand field-day of the new troops, on the Etmeidan, at which the sultan, the oulemas, and The attachment of the Genevese to the the ministers, were to be present. On the pleasures of society renders their town a de- day preceding, the different corps assembled to sirable residence to strangers. As in France, practise together, that they might be more exit is chiefly the evening that is devoted to so- pert in their evolutions, and they now discociety and conversation. The description which vered, for the first time, that they were prac M. Simond gives of a soirée at Geneva might tising the very thing they had all determined be mistaken for that of an evening party in to resist: "Why this is very like Russian masome country town in England. "Soon after neuvring," says one-"It is much worse," eight in the evening ladies sally forth, wrapped exclaims another. To stifle this rising disconin a cloak and hood, a rebellious feather only tent, the aga of the Janissaries severely repri appearing sometimes in front, and walk on tip-manded the one, while the other was impru toe about the streets, preceded by their maid, who carries a lantern. When they reach their destination, the cloak and double shoes are thrown off in an ante-room appropriated to the purpose; their dress is shaken out a little by the attentive maid, their shawl thrown afresh over their shoulders with negligent propriety, their cap set to rights, and then they slide in lightly, to appearance quite unconscious of looks, make their curtsy, take their seats, and try to be agreeable to their next neighbour; yet now and then they stifle a yawn, and change places under some pretence for the sake of changing, and curiously turn over young ladies' or young gentlemen's drawings, placed on the table with prints and books, upon which they would not bestow a look if they could help it, nor listen to the music, to which they now seem attentive. Tea comes at last, with heaps of sweet things; a few card-parties are arranged, and as the hour of eleven or twelve strikes, the maid and lantern are announced in a whisper to each of the fair visiters. Meanwhile the men, in groups about the room, discuss the news of the day, foreign or domestic politics, but mostly the latter, making themselves very merry with the speech in

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dently struck in the face by an Egyptian officer. Instantly all discipline was abandoned, the assembled corps were thrown into commotion; they turned into the streets; robbed and insulted all they met; proceeded to the house of their aga, who had made himself obnoxious by promoting the new plan, and, not finding him at home, assassinated his lieutenant, destroyed every thing they found in the building, and even went so far, says Dr. Walsh, "as to violate those observances which a Turk holds in the highest respect-they entered his harem, and abused his women." They tore off their uniforms, and trampled them in the streets; and being joined by an immense rabble, proceeded to the Porte, carried off what valuables they could lay their hands on, and destroyed the archives.

"The Janissaries now displayed a spirit of determination, which they never manifest but in extreme cases. The first thing that struck me, on my arrival, as odd and singular in the streets of Constantinople, was an extraordinary greasy-looking fellow dressed in a leather jacket, covered over with ornaments of tin, bearing in his hand a lash of several leather thongs; he was followed by two men, also fan

tastically dressed, supporting a pole on their | shoulders, from which hung a large copper kettle. They walked through the main streets with an air of great authority, and all the people hastily got out of the way. This, I found on inquiry, was the soup kettle of a corps of Janissaries, and always held in high respect; indeed, so distinguishing a characteristic of this body is their soup, that their colonel is called Tchorbadgé, or the distributor of soup. Their kettle, therefore, is, in fact, their standard; and whenever that is brought forward, it is the signal of some desperate enterprise. These kettles were now solemnly displayed in the Etmeidan, inverted in the middle of the area, and in a short time twenty thousand men rallied round them."-Walsh, pp. 84, 85.

The crisis was now arrived. The Sultan ordered such troops as he could depend on, and the artillery, to hold themselves in readiness; summoned a council, declared his intention of either ruling without the control of the Janissaries, or of passing over to Asia, and abandoning Constantinople and European Turkey to their mercy! and submitted, as a measure of immediate expediency, to raise the Sandjac Sheriff, or Sacred Standard of Mahomet, that all good Mussulmans might rally round it. This last proposal met with unanimous applause. The holy banner, which is said to have been made out of the capacious nether garment of the Prophet, and which it is forbidden to all but Moslems to look upon, is never produced but on the most solemn occasions, and had not been seen in Constantinople since the year 1769; when the Austrian ambassador, his wife, his daughters, and a numerous suite of distinguished Europeans, having permitted themselves to view it from the window of a house in Constantinople, as it passed, were insulted and ill treated by the fanatical populace. The ambassador complained to the Porte, and, as an expiation of the offence, a few individuals (who had been guilty of other crimes) were strangled. The Court of Vienna, however, had the good sense to recall its ambassador, for disregarding the local customs and religious feelings of the country in which he was residing.

No sooner came the important news of the sacred relic being brought forth, on the present occasion, than thousands rushed from their houses in all directions, and joined the procession with the fiercest enthusiasm. The mufti planted the standard on the pulpit of the magnificent mosque of St. Sophia, and the Sultan pronounced an anathema against all who refused to range themselves under it. Four officers were despatched to the Etmeidan to offer pardon to the Janissaries if they would acknowledge their errors and immediately disperse; but this was rejected with scorn, and they on the instant put to death the four officers who had dared to propose submission. Mahmoud now saw that nothing was left for him but to decree the total destruction of this insolent corps: desirous, however, to cover the deed he contemplated with the sanction of the mufti, and thus enlist on his side the authority of the priesthood, he demanded whether it was lawful to put down his rebellious subjects by force; the sheik replied that it was: "Then," says the Sultan," give me your fetva to slay if resistance be offered;" which was accordingly done, and the fate of the Janissaries was sealed.

"The Aga Pasha had by this time collected a force of sixty thousand men, on whom he could entirely depend; and he received immediate orders to put the Janissaries down by force, which he lost no time in executing. He surrounded the Etmeidan, where they were all tumultuously assembled in a dense crowd, and having no apprehension of such a measure; and the first intimation many of them had of their situation was a murderous discharge of grape-shot from the cannon of the Topghees. Vast numbers were killed on the spot, and the survivors retired to their kislas, or barrack, which was close by; here they shut

themselves up; and, in order to dislodge them, it was necessary to set the kislas on fire, as they refused all terms of surrender. The flames were soon seen from Pera, bursting out in different places; and that none might escape, the barracks were surrounded, like the Etmeidan, with cannon, and the discharges continued without intermission. It is not pos sible, perhaps, to conceive any situation more horrible than that in which the Janissaries now found themselves; the houses in flames over their heads, and the walls battered down about them, torn to pieces with grape-shot and overwhelmed with ruins and burning fragments. As it was determined to exterminate them utterly, no quarter was any longer offered or given, and the conflagration and discharge of artillery continued for the remainder of the day. The Janissaries, notwithstanding the surprise and comparatively unprepared state in which they were taken, defended themselves with a desperate fierceness and intrepidity. The Aga Pasha was wounded, and had four horses killed under him, and his troops suffered severely. At length, however, opposition ceased, when there was no longer any thing left alive to make it. The firing slackened and silenced-the flames were extinguished of themselves; and the next morning presented a frightful scene,-burning ruins slaked in blood-a huge mass of mangled flesh and smoking ashes."-Walsh, pp. 88, 89.

For three whole days the gates of the city were closed, during which those who had not perished in the barracks were hunted and put to death, so that the streets were every where covered with corpses. The Franks in Pera, and even those in the English ambassador's palace, directly opposite the Janissaries' barracks, scarcely knew what was going forward, excepting hearing occasional firing of artillery, and seeing blazes of fire and smoke, than which nothing is more common in Constantinople.

"The number of Janissaries destroyed on this occasion is variously reported: besides those who perished at the Etmeidan, barracks, and in the public streets, multitudes were caught and privately strangled in the houses where they were found, or brought to appointed places where they were beheaded together. These slaughter-houses as represented by eyewitnesses, were very horrible. None of the large body assembled were supposed to have escaped. All the officers, with the exception of a few of high rank who had joined the Sultan's party, were known to have perished; and the general opinion is, that twenty thousand were sacrificed on the occasion. Arubas and other machines were employed for several days in dragging down the mangled bodies and casting them into the harbour and Bosphorus. Here they lay, till becoming buoyant by coruption, they again rose to the top, and were floated into the sea of Marmora, where the eddies frequently carried them into still water; covering the surface with large putrid masses, in which boats and ships were sometimes entangled and delayed; exhibiting, in nearly the same place the reality of that which the poet only feigned of the vessel of Xerxes impeded by the bodies of his own soldiers'Cruentis

Fluctibus, ac tarda per densa cadavera prora.'' Walsh, pp. 91, 92.

Those belonging to the corps who, by concealing themselves, had survived the dreadful massacre, were banished from Constantinople, to the amount it is said, of twenty or thirty thousand; but as, according to Dr. Walsh, "they had suffered before from wounds, privations, and anxiety of mind, numbers sunk under debility and died on the road; so that it is supposed not half of them ever reached their own country." Thus perished forever that formidable corps which kept the sovereign despot in awe, and which, in fact, may be said to have governed the empire.

A WINTER SCENE. Spring has her bursting flowers, Her silvery streamlets, and her soft blue skies

Summer her leafy bowers

And Autumn his ripe fruits and opal dies.
But winter, stern and cold,
Few are the smiles that light his frowning
gloom-

The snow, his mantle's fold, And the black tempest cloud, his streaming plume.

Yet, like the transient hours Of human joy, or, in a desert land, A spot of springs or flowers The Arab meets with, journeying o'er the sand.

Sometimes a sunny day

Will come, with boundless light and heaven of blue,

And airs like those of May
Go wandering the wide horizon through.

'Tis morn, and warm and light The timid west wind melts along the air: The sky is soft and bright, With a pure wreath of clouds curl'd glittering there.

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Beneath the sunlight's tinge The upland fields look out in glimmering rest. As the west's breathings come Amid the maple's crimson sprays on high, There sounds a transient hum, Like music of the bee swift darting by. Where to the southern air

The

hill-slope leans, the noontide seems to sleep,

And melted snow streams there Glittering amid the brightening mosses creep.

The hazel branches spread,
Curled with their yellow tassels at my feet,

And towers above my head
The ever verdant pine, the forest's pride.

The snow bird, chirping low,
Lights restless on this breechen thicket sere:
The woodcock on the bough
In fitful pauses rolls its hammerings near.
To-morrow's sun may bring

The massy volumes of the wintry storm;

The strong blast's hissing wing May sweep along, to ruin and deform:

And this sweet smiling scene Will turn to desolation cold again

This peaceful forest lean Shivering beneath the season's wonted reign. Thus, thus with life!-the cloud Of wintry sorrows chills our hearts awhile,

Then, bursting through its shroud Beams on our way one joy, one holy smile!

Again the tempest's gloom

Comes, with redoubled horror, frowning there; Gone is the transient bloom,

And blacker seems thy wing, oh black Despair! Monticello, N. Y.

ATTICUS.

THE FIRST GREY HAIR.
Ir" sermons may be found in stones,
And good in every thing,"
If universal nature owns,
Throughout her varied ring,

No time or scene that is not fraught
With information sage;

A book that calls to serious thought
Where'er we ope the page-

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