ON THE USE OF CHLOROFORM IN HANGING. We propose to consider this subject categorically, That is, we design to start from a fixed point in intellectual space, and produce ideas in an absolute right line to another point. The order of the category will be new, and by no means syllogistic, yet we hope to proceed by a natural gradation, and, if the reader will be indulgent, we will endeavor to make it pleasant to follow. It will be thought, perhaps, a very remote point from the one indicated by the title, to begin with an essay on MANNERS. But we rely on our ability to make it appear not so as we go on. | of the Sumatra orang-outang: that he has For it is impossible for a man, whether savage or civilized, to divest himself of his faculty of seeing himself as an object, and knowing that others can read his character in his looks and actions as well as in his words. That there are men who approach very nearly, in this respect, the brute condition, who are so indifferent or obtuse as almost to lose this personal consciousness, is no argument against the general truth. These are exceptions. The mass of mankind have an ever-present sense of propriety and impropriety in the motions of their bodies and limbs. They control themselves in their attitudes with respect to the opinions of those around them, and their own notions of elegance. They know that qualities of character convey habits to the body, and they natural MANNERS, then, are necessary to man because of his possessing a conscious soul. The brutes that lack discourse of reason are without them. They do not think what they do, nor do they seek to affect their kind otherwise than through the various blind instincts with which they are endowed. Even among those orders possessing the largest amount of brain, and presenting in appearance the nearest resemblance to humanity, we discover only rude indications of manners. Among the great herds of apes who throng the wildernesses of South Africa, travellers have not been able to observe any indications of an aristocracy based on other grounds than that of superiority in strength and ferocity. Neither can monkeys be taught manners, in any true sense of the word. True, we remember a monkey who used a large wooden eyeglass, and took off his cap on being presented with pennies, but it did not appear that he fully comprehended the purport of his actions, and the cour-ly wish to appear well to each other. tesy which is manifested under the dread of immediate personal chastisement is not of the right breed. The Caffrarian chim- | panzees exhibited at the museum have had as good opportunities as any of their kind with whom we have been personally acquainted, yet beyond a childish way of showing displeasure by pouting out the lips, they appear quite destitute of manWe make an exception in the case ners. Hence every nation has its code of manners, and as human nature is the same in all, so the general ideas of what manners express are much the same the world over. A dignified carriage is the same in Persia, in China, in civilized Europe, and on the western prairie. The manly heart is conquered by revelations of tenderness given through graces not much varied by fashion in every quarter of the earth Custom does but reach the outer rind of manners. It shapes clothing, and perpetuates many conventional ceremonies. But within, there is an universal language of manners that is everywhere understood, and is the same now that it was years ago. The bearing of men towards each other in the daily contacts of life must have been in Greece and Rome very much what it is in New-York, and not materially different even in the antediluvian period. Our bodies being of the same general mould, and the various passions and purposes of the soul being generally resemblant, it is not very wonderful that there should be a general consent in all the great families of mankind as to the elements of manners. The race have concluded, (with but a single exception that we ever read of,) that it is more becoming to carry about this forked body on its two legs than upon all fours. In no part of the globe would it be considered a token of respect for one to strike another in the face. Moreover, we all, or nearly all, wear clothes. Who teaches men, in climates where it is not needed for protection, to cover themselves with these superfluous lendings? Who but the Power whose care teaches the water-fowl his way through "the desert and illimitable air?" In other words, we are so constituted that we cannot put away our reason. must preside over and control ourselves, and hence we require these concealments. Lay aside our clothing and the reservation imposed on us by manners, and in what should we differ from our cousins the apes? There would be no other mode of settling disputes than to fall to, pell mell, and fight it out. This would be an extension of the inalienable rights of freemen to which we may be confident the species will never attain, through all its phases of progression. Whatever the French madams may write, woman is still an intellectual creature, possessing the faculty of choice, and capable of deep affection. She desires to keep the world quiet, and in such a condition that her finer nature shall have room in which to develop itself. She has reason, and she does not wish to be under the dominion of might. Hence she shames men into addressing her in the respectful forms of marners. Man also, as age comes upon him, and those that he loves and would We make happy spring up around him, finds a necessity that he should intrench himself within the barrier of ceremonies. In fine, manners are the first fruit of our conscious reason. The first act of human intelligence, after the animal impulses, is to clothe the body; and this clothing is the first evidence of the living soul. The existence of manners is the next. We cannot "utter ourselves," as it is called, except through these old modes. We may, it is true, strive to avoid reason, and resolutely talk nonsense, or assume strange eccentricities. Men constantly contrive to exhibit their folly in one way or another. One swings his arms and utters paradoxes in a pulpit; another, in his closet, cold-bloodedly murders the Queen's and the President's English; another is content to disfigure his counte nance with a "great peard." Even these, though they persist in such absurdities tül habit makes them almost second nature, are not so ignorant of their oddity as they would often appear. It is not so easy a matter for men to escape themselves, and mase themselves believe that they are somebody else. Whatever we do, or say, or think, is under the superintendence of the conscious reason. When we "utter ourselves," we know what we are uttering. When we allow ourselves to be intoxicated with pas sion or with wine, we know it before and after, and often at the time, though we will not then perchance admit it. The of our souls is such that we see ourselves We know all the while, to use a New Eng land expression, "what we are about" We are obliged to contain ourselves, and put on clothes and conform to mannes The infinity of our faculties is subject t the nobility of our reason. Tempests whirlwinds pass over our being, to was we must not succumb. The evil of world breaks our wills, breaks our bu were it not for the judgment, and the sur bonds of the manners it imposes up a the common experience of life should savages of us at once, and set all the w to cutting each other's throats. What is the use of living? Is it for t hope of enjoyment? The aged tell us tha is but a dream. Experience teaches the same lesson. Each passing year bringe a heavier burden than its predecessor. La any one look forward with unblenched gaze into the probable future, and ask himself what he is likely to gain by cumbering the earth a few years longer. Care and sorrow increase with age, and most of the wisest who have declined far into the vale have been glad to lie down and rest. We all know the sors inevitabilis. Preachers are telling it to us; funerals meet us in the street. The poet has expressed the voice of humanity in Hamlet's soliloquy. Our painter has shown us the Voyage of Life. Why should we live? Is there any motive, when we look into the very truth of things, which should hold us here any longer? Can we by argument convince ourselves that it is not better to be out of the world at once? Suppose, then, we were to yield to what appears most reasonable, and truly "utter ourselves," what other could we say than "Let us depart in peace?" The united voice of mankind would testify that there is nothing in life worth living for. And the same voice would also bear witness that as far as appears to our reason, there is no life beyond the grave. But this is written for a Christian audience, and here is no place for a sermon. The point is this: we have seen that maners are the fruit of the conscious reason. But they and the reason which controls hem are not all of us. We are imperfect, n an imperfect world, and our religion eaches us to bear up bravely to the end, 1 spite of reason.* We are here, in short, nd it is noble as well as our duty to make he best of life till the king of terrors omes and takes us away. We must look pward. We must persevere in those ays which are best for ourselves, and ndest for those around us. We must member in whose image we were created, id not hate our fellow-men. We must itate the loftiness of our great poets, and ever lay down the love of knowledge and Perhaps we shall be sneered at for not omitting a literary article the religious consideration ich here naturally arises. Some remnant of istian faith is, however, not inconsistent with rature. The following from Shakspeare's will, nds as if not intended as merely an idle form of ds: First. I commend my soul into the hands of my Creator, hoping and assuredly believing, ugh the only merits of Jesus Christ my Saviour, emade partaker of life everlasting; and my y to the earth whereof it is made." beauty, and the heart's gallantry. Age must not wither us, nor the petty cares of existence break our spirits. Or if we must consider life apart from the all-commanding precepts of our religion, there is a proud satisfaction in bearing the banner of strength as a signal for others, and in saying, "We feel we feel it all, but we will not yield !" "The innocent brightness of a new-born day Considering it, not as a duty, but as a He Now, the question is, in what way can we accomplish most to the purpose? It must be recollected that every one, how benevolent soever he may be, must live the greater portion of his life for himself. He must attend to his business, and he has a right to domestic comforts. What is the best mode of bettering others with the least inconvenience to oneself? If manners, using the word as heretofore, in its most comprehensive sense, are not a conventional affectation, but a necessary consequence of our conscious presiding reason, it would seem that so potent a means of influence might be brought to bear without unlawfulness. In other words, we have as much right to assume a certain deportment towards those whom we desire to benefit, as we have to operate on them through their understandings or their fears. Manners are catching. The world readily distinguishes those who have been well associated. Good communications refine bad manners, as well as evil corrupt good ones. In a word, since by the constitution of our nature we are objective to ourselves as well as to each other, we each one of us have the right, in | least inconvenience to oneself?" We spite of all our sinfulness and badness, to assume the air of an imagined loftiness of being, and thus to use the respect of others to make them better. To conquer conceit we have a right to assume dignity; to assist timidity we may put on a feigned familiarity. We are at liberty to retain with all a personal reserve which shall permit us to be alone everywhere, which shall be, if possible, impervious to the most searching glance of man or woman. It is permitted us to take for granted the certainty of what we know, and to use our knowledge either through arguments, similes, or personal sway, not as uttering ourselves, but as working a machine, while standing aloof, in a secret, undisturbed serenity. And it is in such a use, we apprehend, that the true answer is to be found to the question propounded in the previous paragraph. All grades and conditions of life are separated by manners. The rude have one species, the refined another. The best manners, those which are most graceful, while they permit, when it is needed, the completest personal reserve with the utmost delicacy towards others, are at once the offspring and the defence of refinement. When it is needed, we say, that is when our comfort or our benevolence demands it. But in general the endeavor to conform to certain manners has a reflex influence upon the character. What is at first assumed, in time becomes more real, and habit finally makes it almost second nature. Thus the consciousness of manner, which we can assume at will, is not ever-present with us, and hence this personal reserve, which we are at liberty to use in circumstances trying to the nerves, or for the purpose of improving others, is not by any means to be confounded with an intolerable self-inspection. We are as unconstrained with good manners as with bad ones; the only difference is in the magnitude of our sphere. With the manners of a clown we should feel uncomfortable (supposing we had the wit to distinguish) among gentlemen; but with the manners of a gentleman we are not to be disconcerted by the presence of clowns. We can affect ease, and retire into ourselves. To recur now to the question, "what is the best mode of bettering others with the answer, not by teaching alone, not by argument alone, or persuasion or authori ty, or any laborious agitation, but by the silent power of the imagination operating through our deportment. There are many young around us all agog with shallow philosophy; we cannot spare the time to explain everything to them; they won't believe us if we attempt it. There are many old also quite ignorant and opinionated-many conceited who can argue forever-many stubborn, unpleasant, mal cious, coxcombical: must we tell the whole truth to every one, and be set down for an impertinent meddlesome fellow! No. Yet we owe it to ourselves, no less than to our Maker, to do as much good as we can in our day and generation. And so wisely ordered is the system of th universe, that we can accomplish much through our simple behavior, and with interrupting seriously our own business c interfering greatly with our rational enjer ment-merely in the course of our da walk and conversation-by means of MANNERS. There are two sorts of manners, good manners and bad. Just as in the w among all classes there are two sorts | men-one including those who keep world up; the other those who bear it dow These sorts of men and manners et under all conventionalities and in all for and races. The roughest old sailor t ever sailed the sea may be a good and may have good manners. may be an honest fellow, full of t resolution, hope, progress, and all t without knowing it, and may so bear self as to have a certain healthful sustaining influence upon his shipma He may be incapable of littleness meanness, and his nervous system i comes to that in the extremes of existe That is, may be so firm that he shall impart lite vigor to those who are brought in ca therewith. On the other hand, a man TM be nursed in the usages of the most re society, and still be very bad-mannere perpetual irritation to his associates. This does not affect our doctrine of necessity of manners and the lawta and advantage of good ones. N does it admit that manners, though, a sense dependent on character, cann considered and discussed separately. All good men are not good-mannered, nor all bad ones perceptibly ill-mannered. There are many benevolent persons who make themselves and every one else rather worse than better for being with them; and there are also plenty who by the charm of manners deceive eyes as keen as Uriel's, "The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in Heaven." Hence it is not only lawful to use manners as a means of improvement, but we must do so, if we would not have the battle fought in our own country instead of the enemy's. Hence also it is not enough to know much and mean well, and then to set out to argue and vex and perplex the world under the notion of reforming it. Hence, in fine, there is a reason for putting on the best manners, and a reason why the disregard of manners is wrong. We have no right to condescend to equalize ourselves with our inferiors in endless wordconflicts, when, by maintaining towards them a benevolent and polite intangibility, we may encourage them to strive for a higher position. We have no right to degrade our rank in social life. A man who after long study and rough experience has gained a position where he ought to claim some respect, is not at the mercy of every talker; it is his duty to keep himself where he knows he belongs. It is impossible to be refined and at the same time to imitate the unrefined. True progress, (to speak in abstract words) gives birth to 1 deportment which attracts the inferior to he superior, to a dignity in the high which it is most beneficial in the low to emulate, to nanners which elevate by the force of imita!ion. Suppose A., for example, to be a gentleman of learning and good taste; let B. be also a gentleman of a little learning and less taste, but very much disposed to evaporate in opinions. Their relative rank n the intellectual scale shall be expressed hus A. B. and endeavors to talk him up, he only lowers himself. Thus- A. B. For B. does not like to be taught when he thinks he knows; he is only confirmed in error by the discovery how well he can use his battledore with A. Whereas if A. remains quietly in his original position, byand-by B. begins to admit that what used to seem conceit to him, seemed so only on account of the point from which he viewed it. He lives on and finds out more and more that A. has been before him in many particulars, and gained some true ideas. Thus in process of time he gains in knowledge and refinement, till he stands where A. did when the progress commenced. ThusA. B. B. is now in his turn leading on C. And thus we obtain for a result a constant advancement; whereas by the other course we fall into perpetual declension. That it is a difficult and often an unpleasant duty to preserve a high station, need not be remarked to those whom cir cumstances have compelled to mingle much with their inferiors in social rank. For persons of quick sensibility and genial temper, it is a very hard matter to sustain sufficient aloofness from all sorts of people with whom they are brought in contact for the good of either. Some, it is true, can "keep up their dignity," as the saying has it, quite instinctively; but the very ease with which they accomplish it arises from a want of sympathy, and hence is of little benefit to others, while it prevents them from profiting by the knowledge that others are improving through their example. These sort of people care very little, in fact, whether either are being bettered or made worse; they think only of themselves, and love display or power. Such dignity as theirs belongs not to good manners; it is not politeness, but the indulgence of selfish egotism. In the young it is the upstart propensity which it is part of the business of the truly well-mannered to check and eradicate. In the old it is f now A. descends to B., places himself pomposity, which it is not in every instance vith him as an undisguised "self-utterer," | against good manners to ridicule. |