spirit and radical tendencies of Democracy. Its domestic peace has been twice seriously threatened in consequence; and the government owes its rescue, on both occasions, mainly to the conservative influence of the Whig party. The commercial and mercantile interests of the country were visited with a blow that had well nigh disabled them for ever. Their resuscitation has been brought about by a resort to Whig measures. In fact, the Whigs have been routed and overthrown only because the Democrats have adopted and acted on their principles, while repudiating their name. The only Whig measure which has gone down entirely beneath Democratic furor, is that of a national bank. That is obsolete and dead, beyond recovery or resurrection. On the other hand, the two cardinal principles of the Whig party have been permanently impressed on the country by Democratic men: viz., those of protection to national industry, and a moderate system of internal improvements.

man-worship on both sides. The highest of Democratic ascendency, against the wild public interests were subordinate considerations, and the support of a favorite chieftain became the primary object in the political struggles which followed. It will be allowed by all, we think, that this state of things was most inauspicious to a regular and constitutional operation of the government, and to a wise and stable policy in any branch of public interest or economy. True it is that the nation has prospered in every branch of industry, and our territorial limits have been vastly increased within the last twenty years, though we doubt whether this last will eventuate in good or evil to the public interests. For nearly the whole period intervening since Jackson's election, the Democratic party has held the reins of government, and partiality or ignorance of political history might beget an inference in favor of Democratic policy, at first sight, in view of the increased national importance during its sway. Nothing, however, could be more fallacious. No government ever withstood such violent assaults on its integrity and strength as this government has withstood, during the period

Longwood, Miss.

J. B. C.

A VISION OF LIES.

lethean sentences, I lost reckoning of myself, and sunk away, as it were, through a chasm into long-since-buried times.

In former years, when reading was a passion with me, it was my habit to frequent old libraries, pulling out here and there rustylooking volumes, folios of outworn and forThe style of the Collectanea had a dull gotten learning, and, with a relish now in-vitality, a creeping warmth, like the air over credible to myself, dipping in and rambling a bed of poppies in the sun; a dream-proamong their wordy and futile paragraphs. voking obscurity, a rambling inquisitiveness; Nothing, in those days, came amiss to me, sometimes a humor of the pipe-and-tankard were it Lomazzo's artistic rhapsodies, or the kind, involved with endless quotation, and interminable commentaries of Ficinus. Icould logic like a tangled skein. then read Cardan, or Cornelius Agrippa, with The Collectanea included a number of enthusiasm, and after midnight hang sleep- treatises, whose odd and insignificant titles less over the interminable rhapsodies of have escaped me. Politics, philosophy, Burton. I sought out the rare, the anti- theology, alchemy, ethics, were here treated, quated, the forgotten books, and tasted them without order or apparent purpose. A large with a Saturnian epicurism, the very smack of space of one volume was a catalogue of time. imaginary works, hereafter to occupy the Among my vellum-suited companions, learned. Among these I remember two, none solaced me more than Slawkenburgius, a "Disquisition on Theft," and another on in whose "Collectanea," a wilderness of "Lying, or the Tradition of the False."

I was reclining in an antique arm-chair, | Of great and little lies; great, swinging, with Slawkenburg's fourth folio upon the robustious, abominable divergences; little, desk before me, in the great library at insignificant, useful, and even meritorious N. It was on a Sunday afternoon of falsehoods. I began to see them, advancing August, in vacation, and the stillness of the in troops, each with a sneaking apology university park was interrupted only by the behind, by way of footman; some, odd and rustling of the maples at the great window, droll; others, abominable in shape. The through which a gentle air brought the shadows of the leaves upon the floor enlarged delicious odor of grass and flowers. In into lies; they multiplied and spread themthe sunlight that trembled and played selves, until the library was filled with them. upon the floor, I saw the figure of a bird, They came out in scores from the leaves of swaying silently amid a crowd of tinted leaf- folios of divinity and law, and mustered thick shadows. along the shelves of history. I confess it shocked me to perceive several, of a very pale color, with fair excuses behind them, creeping out of my favorite Plato; but as they came forward, I noticed an Italian look about them, which betrayed they were intruders there.

The room was of great size and height, built after the Gothic fashion, with stained glass in the upper windows, diffusing golden and brown lights with purple shades. It was to me a home and citadel of thought, a sacred retreat, where at intervals, for years, I had been accustomed to retire from the galling cares and irksome vanities of a scholar's life. Here at least there were no duns nor tattlers, no critics of dress or manners, no pompous country parvenues, no scolding neighbors; it was a nook not merely monastic, but liberal of sweet thoughts and great aspirations. Here had my soul expanded herself like a flower, under the gentle beams of that sun of Ilades, the intellect of Plato. Here had I breathed the intoxicating breath of the Decameron, and with that gay queen Marguerite sported in the free life of the middle ages. No less had the venerable fathers charmed me. St. Augustine, the seraph of the Church; fiery Abélard, its thorn and tormentor; I followed none, worshipped none, but mixed slightly and socially with all. Like a lone chorister improvising the keys of a great organ, I sounded carelessly the diapason of theology, the shrill stops of alchemy and logic, the bugle wail of martial story, and the notes of warm romance; with solemn fancies, or with gay, following the sounds I made.

The library was now crowded and swarmed upon by these creatures, like a great hive. All at once the door opened without noise, and a venerable figure, clad in a scholar's dress of three centuries ago, came forward, with slow steps, into the centre of the hall. A broad and high forehead, without wrinkles, over which a few gray locks shed an air of reverence; eyes at once cool and ecstatic, and a face more stolid and meaningless than marble, made me recognize my venerated Von Slawkenburg. His figure was slight and low, with a decided stoop; but the look of authority with which he reviewed the myriads of loyal creatures who awaited the least sign of his command, reminded me of an old monarch, coming to address his young and brilliant army.

As when some literary cockney, of worldwide notoriety and boundless impudence, sets foot upon the pier at New-York, the intelligent population of that great and learned city rush forward to prostrate themselves, and in dense crowds choke up the grand avenue from Castle Garden even to the shadows of Union Square, so did these loyal myriads attend the steps of my venerable master and guide. The great library seemed to lengthen itself, and the mottled and variegated ranks of fibs fell promptly into order, according to their stature and complexion.

To Slawkenburg I returned continually. For the twentieth time his seven great folios lay around me, the fourth upon the desk. I had paused upon the catalogue of imaginary books, in Dutch and Latin. "A Treatise of Theft;" "A Treatise of Great and Little Lies," with illustrations from the experience of the author. Mendaciorum, First I saw lies of fashion, the Complimendaciunculorumque tractatus. I ima- ments and the Not-at-homes. These were gined the treatise itself, in all its Slawken- dressed like footmen or fine gentlemen, I burgian diffuseness; rambling, note-full, could not tell which; they were the ushers pointless, and yet always lively and readable. of the occasion, gay manikins, thin and blue,

VOL. IX. NO. II. NEW SERIES.

8

with flat noses and spindle shanks, but fine | alcoves, and clung along the ledges and and brisk in their new suits. wainscotings; but all alike hollow, and of that stuff whereof dreams were sometime made.

Then came Threats and Imprecations, volunteer companies, marching to a drum and fife. These were great and windy, with bellies made of soap-bubbles, which burst in the sun; and so, some of them vanished.

Next followed the Political Assurances, Treaties, and Distinguished Considerations, numbered and recorded. These were the slyest fellows in nature, very long-bodied, with coats cut out of old parchment, shreds of Magna Charta, the spectacles of scurvy politicians on their noses, and their eyes in their pockets.

Historical lies made a vast crowd of all hues and dimensions, of all shapes and proportions. I saw companies of these, very cold and acrid, drop down from the shelves of American history, and most of them had cowardly faces, and seemed to stand in awe of a person called a Tory, whom I saw sitting in an alcove of British history, with a sour look and a belly like a whale. These dirty little creatures elbowed their way out of school histories for the most part, and were forward in the crowd.

Church lies were numerous, with the countenance and insignia of martyrs; they crept out of the strangest places. But of all the wretched, pitiful, beggarly make-shifts, the Bankrupts and Bad Debtors' bore the palm. Some, however, were gay and handsome, well-fed and sleek; they bowed, they frowned, they smiled, and stepped along with great confidence. These came in companies like free-masons, with banners, carrying the figures of Justice and Freedom. Here I saw Life Assurance lies, with a benevolent aspect; Sellers' and Buyers' lies, great odious fibs, enough to make a vulture ill at his stomach; but nothing could appear more reasonable than they. For the lies of Pity and Prudence I felt strong compassion. They were few in number, quite naked, and all solitary and sad, and none seemed to regard them.

Interminable lines of Plagiarisms; Perjuries with ropes about their necks; Family falsehoods; great Scandals, green and poisonous, like big Tartarean frogs; Misunderstandings between husbands and wives; Subornations, pale and black in the face; False Informations, with paper wings, fluttering in shady corners, and vanishing in the sunbeam; these and a thousand others filled up the

At a signal from an usher, all these myriads of little hollow wretches uttered a shout like ten thousand thunders. The roar was truly terrible, but not wonderful, for we know that hollow bodies are greatly more capable of noise than solid ones; and the bodies of all lies are composed only of vacuity and humbug.

After I had recovered from the momentary deafness that followed this tempest, I began to hear the grave and silvery voice of my venerable instructor and friend. He was addressing the assembly of manikins after their stentorian salutation. His eyes met mine with a sly twinkle, and gave me an almost imperceptible salutation.

The miniature assembly were attentive, and each one swelled visibly as they drank in the words of the great master. "Of my more immediate subjects," he said, addressing a numerous body of stalwart falsehoods, who kept guard about him, like a company of archers, "these children of my brain, who sprang from it while I lived-not one, (a poor exploit!) but scores at a time-these I commend for their pertinacity in keeping places in the light of day (it is now) three centuries after my decease. It is a stout falsehood that lives a year without bursting; but I see thousands of this select company who have outlasted empires, and may live, perhaps, to see the last stone of the pyramids crumble into dust. It is the high-toned, ambitious lie, the spiritual delusion, that attains age and sanctity. Yes, it is you who govern men, little ugly pets that you are, my jolly little Sanctimonies."

A thundering shout followed this demagogical appeal. I could have fancied myself in Tammany Hall, had it not been for the littleness of the crowd. The eyes of my venerable friend met mine again, and with so sly a twinkle this time, I could not forbear laughing, which occasioned a shudder to run through a rank of pious fibs, who held up their epileptic phizes with a prim frown; but many of them exploded at once, with a smell like a candle-snuff.

At this moment the orator beckoned me to him with his finger. I rose with a sensation of lead in my feet, and glided, rather than walked, through the elfin multitude,

that melted away as I advanced into thin | freed of the cares and vanities of a body. air, and vanished like a morning mist. The Follow my example. I left my odious stature of the magician seemed to lessen as carcass one fine morning, by a lucky acciI approached him, for it was large only by dent, in the furnace of my laboratory. comparison with the pigmies he stood "Slawkenburg," said I, "I see nothing amongst. He now appeared as a diminu- attractive in your appearance. To speak tive pedant, of a horrible physiognomy, plainly, you are not at all handsome; and I wrinkled and twisted with meanness and find, moreover, that vanity goes with us, not extreme age. The fair and open forehead, only to the grave, but beyond it." the humorous eye, and the cold sweetness of his smile, were the only bearable traits of his countenance; but these lurid and diabolical. The touch of his small ape-like hand thrilled me as if it were a snake's; a numbness shot through my bones, and my knees smote together.

"How is this?" said I, mustering a familiar courage. "Have you the secret of immortality! I fancied you dead, and gone to dust, some three centuries ago."

A chuckling laugh shook him from head to foot. "Ha! ha!" said he. "You did not see me come out."

"Von Slawkenburg," I replied, "let us have no trifling. Out of what did you

come ?"

"Out of the book-out of the volume there," said he, pointing with an emaciated claw at the folio that lay upon the desk. "You opened at the seven hundred and ninetyseventh page, and your conception of my character from that page-on which is the title of a Treatise of Lying'-was so absolute, I was forced to give you an audience. Men of intellect, you know, are involuntary conjurors, and raise a spirit by thinking."

"You, then," said I," are a spirit?" "Very well, very well," rejoined he; "there is nothing extraordinary in that. It is common to be a spirit, especially after one is dead. You, too, are a spirit; for you left your body sleeping yonder, and came forward without it."

I turned suddenly, and saw the body of a fair-faced, slender young man asleep in the chair.

"Is it myself that is there and here too?" said I, looking with a shudder at the sleeping figure; not, however, without a touch of complacency at the agreeableness of the countenance, which the ghost perceived at once; for he put his finger to his nose in a very significant manner.

"That is a promising remark of yours," replied he. "You will be a wit yet. I shall report you to Voltaire, who is fond of those things."

66 Could you introduce me to the spirit of Voltaire?" said I, somewhat softened.

"You have only to form a correct idea of him, and his spirit will appear to you," replied the ghost. "Your only conjurors are the correct thinkers."

"Are you, then, merely an idea of mind, Von Slawkenburg?" said I, with an air of pity.

"Do not flatter yourself," he replied. "You have a tolerable brain, young man ; but thinking did not make the world. That is one of the old lies you saw just now; the gray-beard in the dress of an Egyptian priest; a very old and very useful manikin, but extremely silly. I know a company of French spirits who fancy the world is made of triangles; that is one of mine too. Did you observe him—the withered-looking figure in a sans-culotte costume, with the insignia of a mason?"

"Mynheer Von Slawkenburg, if you speak of French politicians, I have a great contempt for them, my friend."

"Spare your contempt, young man,” cried the spirit, in a voice like a shrill wind through a key-hole; "some of these are disciples of mine, like yourself."

"Mynheer Von Slawkenburg," said I, gliding back with dignity, "your works amuse me."

"The young

"Il s'amuse!" cried he. man wastes an idle hour with my folios! Bless his pretty face. Have a care of that proverb about him 'who sups with the Devil.' Von Slawkenburg's little manikins, that creep out of the great folios by the score, are, like certain things I hear of, easy to catch, hard to be rid of. Amuse yourself with my manikins !" quoth he; "why, they will take you the wisest man in the world by the two ears, and whisk him away through

"Drop it, my lad," said he; "never enter it again. It is a clog, full of infirmities. Look at me, a hale and handsome spirit, I seven Sundays."