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Persian imagination. Had those stories been related of a people whose precise habits and sober feelings had long estranged them from the reputation of such delusions, their evident incongruity would have destroyed their interest. This is one among the numerous proofs, that fitness and propriety are as necessary in works of imagination, as in the ornament of dress, or the proportions of a building. The sources of beauty are the same in all things. They vary little, whether developed in the lineaments of the human countenance, beheld in the monumental remains of architectural ingenuity, or diffused through the nobler works of the poet and philosopher. Wherever grace and harmony are displayed among the productions of genius, or the works of nature, a sensation of beauty is felt, and emotions of delight are excited. The want of either would, on the contrary, displease by producing an idea of harshness or deformity. He, therefore, who would excel in works of taste, must frequently neglect originality, to adorn what has already been invented.

Works of imagination are always intended, by the display of ingenuity, or the excitement of strong interest, to amuse the mind, and awaken the passions. As they can easily turn the feelings into any channel, they are unworthy of approbation when the sentiment excited is not virtuous. Originality in such a subject may justly be deemed meritorious, when, by novelty, beauty of imagery, or congruity of incident, they please the reader without inculcating immorality, and relate events without violating probability. If they do not inform the mind, they may improve the heart. The youthful reader may catch enthusiasm from some patriotic Wallace, and emulating the visionary hero, become the generous champion of his native land. Fictitious narratives are generally well received by the world, and their original author enjoys, while living, a distinction and renown seldom yielded to those whose productions are far more useful and instructive. He who moves our passions is better rewarded than he who supplies our necessities; for the hope of pleasure is always more predominant than the fear of want.

From these considerations, it is apparent that originality, in order to merit our admiration and encouragement, must display in its inventions and discoveries, the exercise of an intelfect whose operations are directed to the laudable purpose of benefiting the human family. Most others are generally either the visions of a wild and disordered imagination, or originate from some aberration of reason. Hence such improvements as abridge the labours, or minister to the comforts and

conveniences of man, are worthy objects of our patronage and regard. It is obvious that we should always be careful to subject the merits of every innovation to a critical analysis, lest we should ignorantly waste our munificence in cherishing speculating theorists, to the injury of deserving benefactors. It is true that the secrets of nature have been revealed, and facts long buried in doubt been brought to light, by the most chimerical speculations. Modern chemistry owes much of its present usefulness to the experiments of the Alchymists. But such results depend too much on fortuitous circumstances to entitle them to be considered as the natural fruits of the follies from which they were fortunately derived. There are fanatics and false prophets in morals and science as well as in religion. The world has even now its visionaries, who seek to undermine the principles of social order, which have long received the sanction of civilized communities, and to substitute for them their own fantastic systems, whose leading doctrines are not only at war with the best feelings of our natures, but utterly repugnant to the precepts of Christianity. Such self-named philanthropists are actuated by the vain-glorious motive of immortalizing themselves as the founders of some novel scheme of government, or as the propagators of some newly discovered creed. If nature has endowed these individuals with superior capacities, they are guilty of a gross misapplication of their powers. They do not deserve that the world should countenance and admire projects, that wear a show of public good only to mark the designs of their selfish ambition. It is enough to do what we fear is, after all, done too rarely and too tardily-to cherish such exhibitions of genius as are really useful and meritorious.

AN ANCHORITE.

THE LOVES OF THE SHELL FISHES.

A CRAB there was, a dashing young blade,
And he was in love with a Lobster maid;
But the Lobster maid was a terrible prude,
And she told her mamma that the Crab was rude.
Said her dear mamma, 66 pray, what did he do?
Did he give you a kiss, or a billet doux ?"
"Oh, no," said she, with a toss of her head,
But he ogles me so-'tis so shocking ill-bred,
That I vow, if he still persists in his suit,
I'll box the ears of the impudent brute."

But an Oyster dandy saw the maid—
"Oh, split me," said he, "miss, if I am afraid!”
So tighter he brac'd his corset shell,

And strutted away with a Broadway swell.
And he told the maid, as he twirled his seal,
"He'd die at her feet, if a dandy could kneel."
"Oh, sir," said she, "since that can't be,
You know you can hang yourself on a tree.
And the Oyster raved" But no," said she,
"You never shall die of scorn from me."
So she gave him her ruby red hand to kiss,
And he felt like a fish in a sea of bliss:
3;
But the Crab, he cocked his hat in their faces,
And challeng'd the Oyster to fight at two paces.
The ground was marked, and they took their stand,
And a Barnacle gave the word of command;
They took their aim, and the Oyster fell!
But, alas, the worst of the tale is to tell
For while he weltering lay in his shell,

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A giddy young Muscle that passed that way,
And saw the end of the fatal affray,

Declared that the Lobster's love was a sham,

For he'd just seen her married that morn to a Clam.

ELEGY.

"Her voice was ever soft,

Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman."

APOLLO's lyre is in my hand, but where's the minstrel god, Whose matchless voice of old was heard by mountain, vale, and

flood?

These chords his magic fingers should alone awake—and why? The beautiful alone may mourn the beautiful that die.

My lyre! I charge thee whisper in thy selectest tone,
Why thou in leaves of cypress art o'er my shoulder thrown?
Speak mournfully and softly, since thou hast dared to try
In song, the wildly changing light that fills the dying eye!

Thou sayest, I sing of her who lived, but now is dead and gone ; Of hearts now broke as dew-drops break, which meet and melt

to one;

Of death, the swift familiar-of smiles, when life had flown, Like the lingering streaks of sunshine when the orb itself is

down.

The laughing May is coming soon, but thou shalt come no

more !

The birds will sing, the flowers will bloom, as sweetly as before;

But thine own rapturous melody-thy roses, white and redWhere are they? fled to that lone land of things remembered!

Few days are past, since to our lips the sparkling cup we

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Thy health we drank, while brightly by the happy fireside blazed;

Oh how our eyes hung over thee, our hearts toward thee

burned,

In wishes, that thy golden hair to silver might be turned.

The archangelic trump shall sound and wake the world's long sleep,

And awfully o'er land and sea its thunder-peals shall leap! The dead of ages then shall quake, but to thy slumbering ear, Like the silver voice of seraph harps, oh may its blast appear!

N.

A NIGHTMARE.

"A foal of nightmare; marry, and well named."-Old Play.

"Well, December has set in, and we shall find the nights long enough for all our dreams. Even Bob Noodle, that was wont to snooze away July afternoons behind hay-stacks, can now keep about house without nodding "-Old Almanack.

THAT "all men are born free and equal," is the great political axiom under which our country has grown vastly powerful and happy. The lawyers talk of beautiful fictions of the law-mere fictions, on which principles of jurisprudence are made to rest, solid and philosophical, and of the most beneficent tendency; but to speak of a fiction in politics, would, doubtless, be as absurd as to prate of a fiction in ethics or mathematics; it would be a palpable solecism. All men, in one sense, at least, are, it would seem, brought to a level so that there is, after all, one common ground upon which we can all

meet-and I am very glad to hear it; for I had been ruminating upon the varieties and contradictions of tastes, and temper and disposition, physical, moral, and intellectual, until I had grown almost to conclude, that society was getting out of joint, and an ideal chaos was fast picturing itself to my brain; when, as I puffed my segar, and watched the graceful foldings and curvings of the cloudy volumes I poured forth, a quieting influence luckily came to my relief. A drowsy inertness began to gather upon my faculties-a calm so thorough had spread itself over my nervous system, that sense itself seemed ebbing gradually away. There appeared, however, a glimpse of intellect left, but it seemed as a dim taper placed in the midst of wild and fantastic images that excited wonder, without the power of satisfying curiosity. Every thing was mystical and strange about me. I was conscious of some kind of existence; but whether it was purely spiritual, or whether a corporeal nature pertained to it, I could not well determine. There were some circumstances which inclined me to the latter conclusion. I thought I could discern an uncomfortable compression of my limbs; then, as I attempted to extend them, something so very like the annoying properties of sharp pointed rafters and unclenched nails saluted the extremities, that I became almost convinced that I was not free from the ills of humanity. I made an effort to rub my eyes, and grasped something soft, which, after maturely debating the matter with myself, I made out to bear very much the resemblance of a cobweb. It also seemed to me, that my sense of smelling was not totally lost; I was ready to swear to a dry, pent up, woody effluvia, which at first threatened me with suffocation. But I was again confounded at the wonderful readiness with which my organs, if I had any,'accommodated themselves to this state of atmosphere. I thereupon felt encouraged, and essaying again my ability at vision, clearly perceived a ray of light at a great distance above me in a perpendicular line. I lay motionless some time, speculating upon my situation. Had I fallen into the crater of some extinguished volcano, or got rammed by mistake into one of Queen Ann's pocket-pieces? or was I under the operation of some spell of enchantment? I tried to call to mind all that I had ever read or heard about witchcraft and necromancy. A pantomime occurred to me, wherein I had seen upon the stage the process of animating Harlequin. First, a leg had been made to move by a touch of the magic wand, then an arm, until, by degrees, a wonderful activity was imparted to every limb in his body. I cast my eyes up to the light over my head, and then thought of the VOL. II.

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