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MY JESSIE DEAR.

A RHYMING ROMAUNT.

PART I.

Shall I tell thee a tale, my Jessie dear,
It is a fearful tale!

I learned it in my dreams yestreen,―
Nay, do not grow so pale.

Come laugh now, and I'll tell it thec,
But if thou look'st so white,

are still found in accordance with our interests and happiness, The frigate Macedonian is to be superseded by the and have their home in the inmost depths of the pure in heart Peacock sloop of war; and the number of inferior vesAnd they will continue to spread, until the islands, the oceans and the continents obey; and until non erit alia lex Romae, alia sels will probably be lessened. Delay, and even disAthenis, alia nunc, alia post hac, sed et omnes gentes, et omni appointment, seem to impend over the undertaking. tempore, una lex, sempiturna et immortalis continebit. Of all men, American scholars, and you among them, ought not to be ignorant of any thing which this book contains. If Cicero could declare that the laws of the twelve tables were worth all the libraries of the philosophers-if they were the carmen necessarium of the Roman youth, how laboriously, manu nocturna diurnaque ought you to investigate its contents, and inscribe them upon your hearts. You owe to them the blessed civil institutions under which you live, and the glorious freedom which you enjoy; and if these are to be perpetuated, it can only be by a regard to those principles. Civil and religious liberty is more indebted to Luther and Calvin and their compeers of the Reformation, and to the Puritans and Protestants of England, and the Hugenots of France, than to any other men who ever lived in the annals of time. They led the way to that freedom and firmness, and independence of thought and investigation, and the adoption of these principles, as the guide in social government, as well as private actions, which created a personal self-respect and firmness in its defence, which conducted us to a sense of equal rights and pri. vileges, and eventually to the adoption of free written constitutions as the limitation of power. Be you imitators of them. Make your scholarship subservient to the support of the same unchanging principles. They are as necessary now as they ever were, to the salvation of your country and all that is dear to your hopes. The world is yet to be proselyted to them. Religion and liberty must go hand in hand, or America cannot be established; the bondage of the European man broken; Africa enlightened, and Asia regenerated. And even here, we are not without peril. Look abroad; are not the pillars of our edifice shaken? Is not law disregarded? Are not moral and social principles weakened? Are not the wretched advocates of infidelity busy? The sun has indeed risen upon our mountain tops, but it has not yet scattered the damps and the darkness of the val. leys. The passions are roused and misled. Ancient institutions are scorned. Our refuge is in the firm purpose of educated and moral men. Draw then your rules of action from the only safe authority. Hang your banner on their outer wall. Stand by them in trial and in triumph. Dare to maintain them in every position and in every vicissitude; and make your appeal to the source from which they are drawn. And then, come what may, contempt or fame, you cannot fall; and your progress, at every step, will be greeted by the benedictions of the wise and good-SALVETE--SALVETE."

We renew our invitation, (and to our youthful readers in particular,) to peruse with diligence this valuable production; feeling assured, as we do, that it will have a strong tendency to lead to an assiduous examination and study of that book, which at this day stands above all others, in the literature of every civilized nation on the globe.

THE EXPLORING EXPEDITION.

Every person, anxious for the honor of this country, must regret to perceive the new difficulties that gather around the naval expedition destined to explore the South Seas. The flattering prospects held forth in our last number, with regard to this enterprise, seem to be overcast with clouds. Ill health has obliged Commodore Jones to resign his command: and it is not yet certain, who will be his successor. But whoever he may be, supposing him to possess equal qualifications with Commodore Jones for the trust-he will require weeks, if not months, to prepare for so long and eventful a cruise, in such a manner as to conduct it prosperously. The squadron, too, is to be reduced.

I'll think the vision shades are real,
Which rose upon my sight.

Well! methought that we were wandering
Beneath that tall tree's shade,

In whose spread branches we have heard
The cuckoo's mourning made.

There we did breathe our earliest love,-
Now do not hang thy head,--
Dost not remember how I swore,-
And the stars looked bright,
And the heavens hung o'er,-
That I was thine forevermore,
'Till my poor heart was dead.

It was a lightsome night, I ween,
My heart did bless the fairy scene,
And there was no dark on earth or sky,
But the shade of the oak
We were standing by.

Black was the oak, and vast, and grim,
Tuneless its lofty bowers;

And it stood like a warrior
In his mail,

Or a fiend-giant frowning
O'er the landscape pale,—

“A curse on the bright-eyed Powers!"

We sat within its shady hall,-

Thou know'st the bank full well,—
And we whisper'd of our hopes and joys,
And the woes our love befell.

We talk'd, and we talk'd, and the night wore old,
And the moon run up the sky,
And the shades did deepen,
And the boughs did sleep 'n,-
But by the sight

Of a chink of moonlight,
I saw a deep, black eye!

The eye, the eye was very bright,
'Twas bright as bright could be;
It was so sweet and spiritful,
So full of all most beautiful,

It shone so clear from the black'ning tree,

So very light,

That the dark look'd bright,

By'r Lady, 'twas like thee!

'Twas strangely like my pretty Jess,
I saw it in the paly light;
The firmament hath not a star
That looks to me so bright.

The moon has burst from a fleecy cloud,
Tis light, 'tis light as day,

And the glade, and the hill, and the tiny stream,
Gladden beneath its silver beam,

And the night-bird stills his wildest scream:
List! there is music as soft as a dream,
And tripping on the velvet green,
May'st see the dapper-fay!

I drew thee closer to my side,

I whisper'd thee more low,

I vowed, and here I spoke aloud,—

And raised my face to the passing cloud:
"From thee, my love, my destined bride,
I ne'er, I ne'er will go !"

My arm did drop down from your waist,
My arm was stiff as lead,

And you did glide from my embrace,
Like a shadow of the dead.

Outfell the darkness from the tree,
And the eye was in its shade,-
Round and round it circleth thee-
Thou look'st beseechingly to me;
The eye did fire, and then did fade,
And I was alone in the moonlit glade.

A cry, and a bound,
And a rushing sound
Swept by,-

I burst from the ground,
For the spell was wound,
And the fiend did fly!

Wildly I grasped upon the air,

I clutched the stony mound,

I curs'd, and groan'd, and yell'd, and moan'd,
Yet all was still, but the echoing hill,

And my voice came back

Full clear and shrill,

And woke me from the swound.

And when I woke I started upright,

Look'd wildly around for the things of night,
But on mine eyes, the sun broke bright,

And the merry birds carolled to the morning's light.

PART II.

Fie! Jessy, fie! what weeping now,
And scared as any dove,--
'Twas but a dream, an idle dream—
I would not fright my love.

Come dry thine eyes, my winsome Jess,
Come smile upon me now,-

Ring out, ring out thy silvery laugh, 'Tis sweet as a music vow.

And it were true, and did we part,

Would'st not be glad at all?
There's many a heart in this bright world,
Would worship thee, for all!

Blisters be on my meddling tongue!
This makes thee weep so sore,—
Wilt heal it now, my blushing girl?

I will not grieve thee more.

Now, blessings on thee, Jess, my dear,
Blessings from Him above!

We'll sing His songs in the still, bright eve,
And pray for His good love.

His seal on thee, no harm may come,
No blast of wicked dream;
And if thy lover's arm hath power,
No ill shall hurt his quean.

Green summer is now upon the trees,
And the painted time comes slow;
But when the leaf is on the brook,
And the solemn pencil hath gilt our nook,
Then, Jessie, then we'll whisper low,—
Resting our eyes on the promise bow,—
To love in calm or tempest loud,

To love in weal or woe!

Philadelphia, 1837.

THE LYCEUM-NO. V.

J. A.

ADVICES TO SUNDRY KINDS OF PEOPLE.

BY GULLIVER THE YOUNGER.

CHAPTER I.

ADVICE TO YOUNG PHYSICIANS.

In former times, Medicine was not at all what it is now. Any one, who knew the virtues of a few simple herbs, could practise it with fame and profit. Diseases were not many, or various. They were mostly rheumatisms, which the gentlemen caught in hunting; or crudities and pains arising from surfeit, after the long fasts which followed the failure of their stock of dried venison and parched corn. The only use for surgery, was to heal scratches and bruises received in their combats with wild beasts, or each other. All these hurts and maladies were readily cured by the old ladies of the tribe; sometimes by healing applications, but oftener by certain cunning words and ceremonies, which hardly ever failed, if the patient had faith in them. As to lectures, schools of Medicine, diplomas, long, strange technical terms, and pursy treatises in a dozen different languages, they were altogether unknown.

But now, the case is quite altered. The kinds of sickness have multiplied a hundred fold; and each kind has a hundred various symptoms, and wears a hundred various shapes, according to the diversities of frame and habit in patients. By this increase of discases,

the number of those who profess to cure them is also think it rich. Cite books and authors on all occasions : increased; and the increase of doctors, again, has mul- the more numerous and high-sounding, the better. tiplied diseases. Old ladies have been supplanted by Talk of them so familiarly, that the world may think young gentlemen, who swarm out every spring, by them your most intimate acquaintance; as London thousands, from hives placed on purpose, in the towns dandies talk of lords and duchesses, of whom they know and cities. So many practisers not being able to earn only the titles.* Discuss theories boldly. Compare a livelihood, if the medical art remained simple as be- Sydenham with Boerhaave: question Harvey's claim fore, have invented new remedies, which, with the to the honor of having discovered the great circulation : help of new meats and drinks taken copiously, are every balance the Buononian system with Darwin's; and day giving birth to new diseases, or new appearances, blow Broussais sky high, as a fellow who would reduce which warrant the giving of new names. And from the science to the mere art of starvation, no better than the number of competitors, as well as from the number Sangrado's method of bleeding and hot water. Howand complexity of maladies, it has become so hard to ever poor a truism you utter, nail it with authority, thus: succeed in practice, that I have taken compassion upon 'Cullen and Brown inform us, that a cold, neglected, is young candidates for medical advancement, and deter- apt either to affect the lungs, or to settle into rheumamined to offer them the lights of my experience touch- tism.' So have I heard a pretty gentleman say, As ing the means of success. Shakspeare observes, 'this is a very fine day.'"

IN YOUR TRAINING for the profession, do not trouble yourself with any private studies before you attend the lectures: it will only blunt the edge of your curiosity in listening to them, and take away their great charm, novelty. Besides, it will plant errors in your mind, which the professors will have to weed out, before they can make their own true notions take root. Let them have you as a blank sheet, upon which to write at once the soundest and purest doctrines. Do not even learn the meaning of any technical phrases before hand; but leave them as knots to untie for your amusement, as the lectures go on. It must add greatly to the interest you will feel; and it will require your attention to be intensely fixed upon the lecturer. Should these knots prove too hard to untie, that is, should the terms of art remain unintelligible to you; comfort yourself with the thought, that obscurity is a part of the sublime: and feast your fancy upon the depth and grandeur those words no doubt involve, if you could but understand them.-Lectures you must be sure to attend: as many courses as may suffice to get you a degree; because the name of a degree is a great thing. It will make you seem learned and wise, though you be neither; and enable you to look down with scorn upon those, who, by the mere vulgar dint of study, experience, kindness, and honesty, are winning the patronage and wealth that rightfully belong to none but the holders of diplomas.

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Walk with a slow and solemn gait, as if pressed by weight of anxiety for numerous patients. Mount your horse often; or if you have a sulky, it will be better; or a close carriage, best of all; and ride or drive as if life were at stake, by places where you will certainly be seen; and let it appear that you are going to see such and such persons, who are dangerously ill. Contrive now and then to have yourself called out from a dining party, or from your bed at midnight, to visit some imaginary patient; but in the latter case, be sure to let the messenger knock at your door loudly enough to wake several of your neighbors, who may hear him call for "Doctor" such a one!

When you happen at length to have a real patient, be mysterious; speak low; feel his pulse with your wisest look; smell the handle of your cane; and give a doubtful prognostic as to the event of his disease. Do not make light of his complaint, however trifling, or groundless; if it be only a finger ache, treat it seriously: examine-dress it-give physic-talk learnedly; and you will be certain in the end to make it a serious affair sure enough to him, and a profitable one to yourself, or else, if all your endeavors fail to aggravate it into a case of danger or difficulty, you may gain vast credit for so quick and easy a cure. Humor the appetites of your patients; despising the newfangled plan, of starving out sickness. What is the surest attendant on disease? Weakness. And what is the opposite of weakness-the attendant and sign of Never dim your eyes and muddy your brain by health? why, strength. And what gives strength? reading many authors. A medical dictionary, and one Eating and drinking. Therefore, not only permit, but or two books that quote a great many others, will fur- encourage your patients to eat and drink heartily; and nish you with any quantity of technical phrases, and if that produce any ill effects, do you counterwork them with the names of so many authors, that you may by physic. The great virtue of modern improvements show off as a prodigy of learning at a very small ex-in the healing art is, to let men feast on, and then save pense of money, time, labor, or brains.

The ways of showing off are various. In conversation, deliver yourself in long sentences, strung together in speeches the very longest that your hearers will endure, and uttered with your utmost gravity, and weightiest emphasis. Make it a rule, never to use a word of one or two syllables, where a word of four, five, or six can be pressed into the service; and always to prefer a Greek, or at least a Latin term, to an English one. When you can express an idea by one, or a dozen words at your option, always choose the dozen for this will make your discourse flowing; and that large class of men with whom words are coin, will

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them from the ills which followed feasting in times of ignorance. One thing is certain: if this is not the best system for the patient, it is the best for the doctor.

You may get both name and money, by playing upon people's imaginations. About one half of every disease is either quite imaginary, or is the effect of imagination. Act upon this hint, and you may generally heighten a malady to what pitch you please, nay create it entire, by feeding the patient's fancy. A hypochondriac, for instance, or a dyspeptic, will believe he has any disease you may name to him: and after you have physicked him to your satisfaction, you may by working his fancy Vide the Tale of a Tub.

the other way, often cure him again; unless you have| events, a sufficient reason why you should discountecarried the joke too far, and got him past operating nance it is, that a cool-headed, sober people are the upon. In that case, you have only to take care that the very last to suit your purposes. world shall know it was the obstinacy of his disorder, and not your treatment, that killed him. I would not recommend this method of making patients, however, unless they be scarce. If you have enough on hand without it, never resort to such an expedient: it is wanton; and conscience ought to be obeyed, when not at variance with interest.

In most cases, when a patient dies under your hands, you may say that you were sent for too late. Especially, if he was first in the care of another doctor, never fail to find something in his treatment, which gave a fatal turn to the malady. If you had been called in sooner (you should say or insinuate) you could have saved the patient.

As soon as you get somewhat ahead in your profession, lose no occasion of sneering at your competitors; above all, at the younger ones, just entering the lists. You will have a thousand opportunities of giving them sly cuts, and jostles, which may keep them down for a long time; perhaps till you be rich, and ready to leave the stage.

By following these precepts, and acting in their spirit whenever they do not literally apply, you cannot help rising high, and rolling in wealth.

CHAPTER II.

ADVICE TO NEWSPAPER EDITORS.

The first thing to be thought of is, what are the great ends of editing a newspaper? Of course, you will answer, first, to strengthen your party, and second, to raise and enrich yourself. Of course, too, you will not let the world know these to be your aims. That, as any simpleton may see, would baulk them at once. No, no. Make the world think, that YOUR COUNTRY is every thing with you; that your party is to be upheld only as a prop to your country; and that your humble self is nothing in your eyes, except as a worker for your party's, that is for your country's good. For you must constantly strive to impress every one with the idea, that your party and your country are the same thing.

A few hints, towards reaching the great ends which it is agreed you should aim at.

There is one sort of subjects, alone, that should fill any large space in your journal; and that is politics; I mean, party politics. What Demosthenes said of action in speaking, you should hold with regard to politics: make it the first, the second, and the third requisite the beginning, the middle, and the end, of your newspaper. But do not attempt to take in the whole field. In politics, there are always two sides; one of which is your's and your party's, or the orthodox side; the other is your adversaries', or the wrong side. For 'orthodoxy' signifies 'your opinions;' and heresy' or 'heterodoxy' signifies 'opinions opposite to yours,' that is, 'wrong opinions.' Now, let your journal shew forth the merits of none but the orthodox side. Hide the opposite from your readers, with the care of a duenna. Thus, if you are for a particular measure, or system of measures, never print a single argument against it: if you are against it, let no one dream, for you, that a word can be said in its favor. If you are a Clay-man, a Webster-man, or anybody's man (and somebody's man you must be), suppress whatever may raise the slightest suspicion that your favorite has a single fault, or his rival a single virtue. In a word, use all your power to make your own side seem bright, and spotless; and the other side, black as pitch.

When you wish to refute something which, as a whole, is too hard for you, never copy it all into your columns; but only the most vulnerable passages. These, thus 'torn from their context,' like stragglers from a hostile army, you may demolish with perfect ease. In this way, an adversary may be cut up in the finest style, who, if you let him come fully before your readers, may give you no small trouble. The way some editors have, of spreading out in their own papers whatever they mean to combat, (under the romantic notion of shewing their readers both sides) is mere knight-errantry; giving the adversary a foothold within their own camp: a weakness not at all enjoined by modern chivalry.

state, may crush it entirely; or at least may forestall the reader's mind so as to prevent its effect upon him. For the editor's remarks are always first read.

Able speeches and essays against your party, require especial caution; because there is danger lest your readers chance to see them, and imbibe a heresy that cannot be driven out. Never slight such, therefore, altogether; but publish what may seem their purport; only so abridged, as to be harmless. And always acPrint as many fine sentences as possible, about giving company your abridgment with long comments of your the people light, and about virtue, justice, and expan-own or of some brother partisan, which, in its enfeebled sion of mind: but confine yourself to generalities on these topics. Do not devote any portion of your paper regularly to the elucidation of such truths as really enlarge or refine the public mind: because, in proportion as that is done, the public will become less and less apt to allow you the influence which it is my design to shew you how to obtain. For instance, while you strenuously aver your zeal for morality, do not scruple to support as a candidate for office, a man whose life has been glaringly immoral: and let no paragraph in behalf of the temperance reform (as it is called), or any other such stuff, enter your columns. Indeed, so many preachers, and weak people influenced by them, have enlisted in this temperance cause, that it deserves only a sneer, as a vulgar fanaticism. At all

Should any one have the hardihood to send you for publication an essay on the other side, do not flatly refuse; for that would give too palpable a ground for calling you unfair and illiberal: but contrive to be much pressed for space just then; or let documents, or essays which have prior claims, or some other imaginable thing, crowd out the intruder: till at length, either he will lose patience and withdraw his piece in disgust; or the nick of time he wrote for, will have passed away, and his readers (if any) will wonder what ails that fellow-to be opening upon a cold trail. If you can find no excuse for delay, or if delay have not

the desired effect, smother the piece by putting it in feditor may secure a Turkish unanimity, a catholic be

some obscure part of your sheet, where not one eye in ten, of your readers, ever fixes. Or hold it back at any rate until you can write and publish a refutation, or what you may swear is one: thus, like a wise doctor, making the antidote go with the poison. But whichever course you take, protest loudly your love for the liberty of the press, and for free discussion: and glorify your own liberality, in publishing a piece against yourself.

There are two other ways of crippling such an adversary. One is, to misprint him; so that the best passages may lose their point and force, by having their chief words turned into others of either no meaning, or a wrong one. The other is, to leave out any passage, even a whole paragraph or more, that galls you or your side very severely. By this method, many a home thrust has fallen to the ground: and by the former, pithy sentences have become such nonsense, that readers would turn from them with contempt, and the author sicken at the silly figure he made.

You may get a great name for candor, at a cheap rate, by sometimes owning yourself in the wrong, about some trifle; or even about a point of consequence, when you see your mistake or falsehood on the verge of exposure.

lief in his own infallibility, amongst his readers; which, by proper co-operation, may be extended to those of all the kindred presses; that is, to half, or more, of the community. And, that progress being made, why may we not hope, in less than a century, to see orthodoxy universal?

THE RICHMOND LYCEUM, AND ITS

JOURNAL.

An Association in this city, bearing the name of the "Richmond Lyceum," formed with a view to the improvement of its members and the encouragement of literary taste and scientific knowledge, will soon commence the publication of a monthly magazine, to be called "THE JOURNAL OF THE RICHMOND LYCEUM;" at the moderate price of one dollar and a half per annum.

The resemblance of character and objects, between this association and the Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, it may be hoped, will exist also between the proproposed magazine, and the justly esteemed 'Journal of the Franklin Institute.' That Institute and its One such confession will gain you a journal, we believe, by diffusing useful knowledge in credit, upon which you may pass off a hundred distor-popular forms, have done and are doing an amount of tions or concealments of truth.

By such means, all who read no paper but yours, will in time come to regard you as infallible. Among them, all heresy will be rooted out: and if all other presses would act with you, orthodoxy would completely triumph. But as this is not yet to be hoped for, you may rest content with two, great benefits, sure to result from the plan here recommended. First, your party, seeing no merits in any other creed, or editor, will keep true to its creed, and to you; nay, perhaps will vanquish its adversary: and secondly, both parties, unable to discern any reason for each other's opinions, will be animated to that patriotic readiness to tear one another in pieces, which is so advantageous to the community, and especially to party leaders and trumpeters.

It is thus, that in certain parts of the world, particular opinions have reigned supreme. It was thus, that in some states of this Union, the tariff at one time so signally triumphed. It is thus, that among certain sets of people at this day, notions, of which the truth is very questionable, are held as axioms. Their newspapers and other oracles, watchfully exclude everything that may excite a doubt as to those notions. It was thus that Europe was lulled for centuries in the arms of the Holy Catholic faith, whose doctors, by wisely locking up the Bible from their flocks, and by those persuasive arguments, the rack and the stake, effectually banished all heresy, till the rebel, Martin Luther, shewed mankind the other side of the question. And it is by kindred means, that now, in Turkey and Russia, eighty millions of people are made to repose in the quiet belief, that the Sultan and the Czar have a divine right to cut off as many heads as may suit their royal pleasure. It would be Utopian perhaps, to hope that in our time at least equal harmony can be produced in this country; but no doubt a great deal may be done by faithfully observing the foregoing counsel. Each

good scarcely surpassed by any other kindred enterprise in the world. May they be successfully emulated, by the young institution in Richmond! A fuller notice will be taken of the latter, hereafter.

NEGLECT OF TIME.

BY J. C. BRENT.

The clock is to the eye

What reason's to the soul;
Yet moments hasten by,

And man heeds not their roll:
In dreams forgets the hour
Which silently goes on,
Until 'tis past his pow'r

To call back what is gone.

In vain the clock doth sound
Its warnings on the ear;
In folly's meshes bound,

He has not time to hear.

Though reason points the way,
And profit may await,
He learns not to obey,
Until it is too late.

He seems to pass through life,
As if it had no close,
As if it were not rife
With vanity and woes.

He marks with heedless eye
The hours receding fast,
Till time for him must die,

And hope depart at last.

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