} TO OUR FRIENDS. In accordance with universal custom, we find ourselves compelled to perpetrate a Preface, as an address, written at the conclusion of a volume is somewhat anomalously termed. The confident "Preface" has driven the fawning "Dedication" from its ancient abiding place, yet a very trivial difference exists in their formation, and we doubt if any one is a gainer by the exchange. The English Dedication was generally a mass of fulsome panegyric, addressed to an influential lord or duke, and a few stereotyped phrases served equally well upon all occasions-the modern Preface is ever a boasting tira de of the wondrous success of the work; an egotistical ebullition, "horribly stuffed with epithets of" self-commendation, and equally as servile as the laudatories of the Dedication. The first volume of the Gentleman's Magazine is now before the public. We feel no hesitation in submitting our work to the acumen of the critical few, because we have been encouraged by the countenance of the liberal many; and we honestly avow that we entertain the comfortable belief that success is the best criterion of merit. We made some big promises at starting, but, like Aranza's Duke, we "dare the worst spite to answer, if to the height we've not fulfilled, if not outgone all expectations." We do not wish to boast beyond the prefatorial prerogative, but request our friends to consider that we issued our prospectus in the very height of the commercial difficulties which yet affect the energies of the Union; and so severely did the pressure operate upon the literary circles, that various periodicals of acknowledged worth were compelled to be discontinued, and many houses of the first eminence in the publishing trade refused, for several months, to issue a single volume from the press. During this period of gloom, but not of despondency, the first number of the Gentleman's Magazine appeared; and, relying upon the experience of our publisher and partner, we feared not the result. We confess that when he mentioned the extent of the edition that he intended to print, we smiled at the warmth of his enthusiasm; but as he now assures us that it will be requisite to double the number upon the commencement of the second volume, we decline opposing his practical certainties, and shall refrain from entertaining any misgivings of what the play-bills term "most unprecedented success." 66 4 We have labored much and diligently, but as our self-conceit has been tickled by the praises of our attentive brethren of the broad-sheet, our hard work has been ren. dered an easy light o' love." There are some persons who imagine th reputation is necessary to the establishment of a literary fame upon th Atlantic-we are happy to inform these noodles, who confess their inal for themselves, and ignobly succumb to foreign opinions of our home 1... that various articles in the two first numbers of the Gentleman's Magaz copied without acknowledgment into English periodicals, and recopied or three of the wise men upon this side of the Atlantic, and praised b mens of English composition, although the said critics were unable merits of the articles in an American Magazine. For our next volume, we are promised assistance by "men of note." The number of embellishments will be increased; the qua' will be considerably improved, and the quantity of matter will not be contemplate introducing various novel arrangements into the succe the Gentleman's Magazine-a work that we are determined to pla list of American periodicals, and confidently assure our subscribe solved not to relax in our exertions till we have rendered it worthy parlor table of every Gentleman in the United States." Philadelphia, December 1, 1837. ures, been ye two ... speci over the THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE. VOL. 1. JULY, 1837. THE SCHUYLKILL PIC NIC. "A silly story will sometimes make one laugh more than wit."—WALPOLIANA. No. 1. with thick Malmaison beer. Pic Nics are becoming fashionable in America, and will be quite the rage, for we possess a rich share of the necessary ingredients-romantic rivers, Pennsylvania beef, warm-hearted sociability, Jersey peaches, beautiful shade-trees, tender lambs and lovely ladies, Bucks county fowls, puns and oysters, clear skies, pure air, and sparkling wine-all of them in perfection, and inviting to pleasure and Picnickery. THE ladies and gentlemen who composed the firm | garlic-scented viands with wine sourer than cider, or of Jove and Company, and for many centuries carried on an extensive business on the Thessalian mountains, amongst other celestial matters, invented Pic Nics, or parties of Pleasure, wherein each person provided his individual prog, and threw it into a common stock for general participation. The impromptu meetings on the sunny side of old Olympus, or in the green vale of Tempe, were, in reality, joint-stock as sociations for the propagation of heavenly enjoyment. Mr. Jupiter found the nectar and ambrosia-Bacchus furnished wine and grapes-Dan Apollo brought the music, and Momus made the fun; while Mercury and Ganymede waited upon the company. Mrs. Venus, with the airs of acknowledged beauty, claimed the ladies' exemption from contribution, but the rest of the celestial feminines declared themselves utilitarians, and insisted upon poneying their share. Ceres gave corn and oil-Juno presented a peacock and a pomegranate-Pomona furnished fruits for the dessert, and Flora strewed her variegated offerings on the bright green sward. Cervantes delineates the popularity of Pic Nics in the provinces of haughty Spain. Boccacio's antiplague party at Florence was but an extensive Pic Nie; and many such arrangements are mentioned in the old French romances. Pic Nics flourish in Europe-tourists congregate and plan meetings in romantic places. Swarms of rural diners are to be met with on the banks of Como's lake and the picturesque spots bordering the Rhine and the Moselle-the courtly shades of Windsor-the flats of Terracina-the hermitage on Mount Vesuvius, and the valleys of the Seine and the Tyrol. The English cockneys rush from their Babylonian metropolis in thousands and tens of thousands, with their fat and red-cheeked wives and sweethearts, and infest the ruralties of Norwood, Richmond, Hampstead, and "'Ornsey Vood." Un badaud de Paris, tired of the café on the boulevard, sick of the fumes of the estaminet of the faubourg, and the sameness of the jardin de plaisance in the Champs Elysées, collects his bons amis some fine Sunday morning (the Parisian's holiday,) and charters an omnibus to the Bois de Romainville, or a fiacre to Bagnolet; where, squat fing on the grass, the jolly Gauls wash down their The Waddiloves, of the equilateral metropolis, proposed a Pic Nic. Mrs. W. was the very person to concoct a party of that sort-she was a small, smart woman, very good tempered, with a little snubby nose, largely pimpled, an easy husband, and a couple of pretty daughters.. Mr. Waddilove had been a merchant, and had retired at the right time; but in giving up his counting-house he had degenerated into a quiet old man, proud of his daughters, and submis sive to the superior tact and nous of his spouse. The Pic Nickers met one evening at Mrs. Waddilove's, to settle the when and the where of the holiday, and to fix the individuality of the respective commissariats. A delicious plat of greensward, (for the Pic Nickers, like Nebuchadnezzar, must dɩne upon grass,) shaded by a few choice trees, and situated within an easy ride from the city, on the banks of the beautiful Schuylkill, was unanimously agreed to as the locale, and the event was to come off, as the racing gentry say, on the following Tuesday. Mrs. Waddilove then suggested an excellent plan to prevent the confusion usually attending Pic Nic provender, where similar tastes too often produce similar results, and the dinners are all boiled beef and ham, or one entire course of lamb and salad. Mathews used to tell a story of a Pic Nic, where, for want of mutual arrangement, the visiters all brought the same dish-a leg of mutton: the consequence was that every body was obliged to eat his own leg. Mrs. W. had divided the requisites for the dinner into seven portions, to suit the number of gentlemen patronising the Pic Nic. Each division was written upon a piece of paper, which was folded up, and placed with its fellows in one of the young ladies' reticules; and every gentleman was expected to furnish whatever might be written upon the paper he should draw forth. This arrangement met with universal applause, although, when drawn, the badly proportioned divisions excited some surprise. Dr. Dodd Dinkey drew the first chance. He was a silent, reserved sort of old bachelor, of repute in the medical profession, but particularly famous for superior methods of mixing whiskey punch, and dressing lobster salad. His quota of furnishing, to his great dismay, amounted to Thirty knives. Six carvers and forks. Four corkscrews. Twelve large spoons. Twelve dishes, various. Three dozen wine glasses. Three dozen tumblers. Salad bowl and celery glass. Six salt cellars, full. Two sets of castors, and contents. Please not forget the oil. "Where, in the name of-of-how distressing!" said the doctor, "Where is a retired bachelor, like me, to-to-procure such a tavern full of-of-so many dozens of-of-dreadful, is it not?" "Doctor, I'll swap tickets with you," exclaimed young Bustleton, who had drawn a paper labelled “Two Baskets of Champagne." The nervous old gentleman gladly agreed to furnish thirty dollars worth of wine, and Mr. Bustleton hired the knives, plates, and glasses, from one of the hotels, and paid about five dollars for their use. The aristocratic Colonel A— was doomed to provide the sundries-two bushels of ice, four large lobsters, pots of anchovies, butter, cheese, tarts, salad and other vegetables, and a furniture wagon and hampers. The colonel endeavoured to effect a swap, but without avail. Mutius Scævola Buggins, a young gentleman fresh from college, had drawn the items contained in the butcher's-meat department. He despised the idea of marketing-so vulgar, and all thatbut might as well go the whole hog if he went at all-would put his ticket against any other's, and toss with him for the two. The colonel agreed, in hopes of being relieved from his share. Higgins twisted a half dollar; the colonel cried "head," but Liberty turned her face from him, and the butcher's-meat was added to the colonel's list of procurables. Tom Gawkley, a fat, jolly fellow, with a wooden leg, was bound to provide the rest of the wine, and Mrs. W. had been profuse in her dictations; but he was agreeably relieved from the responsibility by an offer from Mr. Howard Smithers, who had drawn the easiest apportionment, viz. “Bread for the party, twenty napkins, and a very large table-cloth." "Here, Gawkley," said the innocent, "my tablecloths are not large-so you get that, and I will get the wine, for my wine merchant owes me money, and it will save spending the ready rhino." By this sensible arrangement, he put himself in for A dozen of sherry, brown and pale. A dozen of Madeira. A dozen of hock. A dozen of bottled porter. And a little brandy, in case of an accident.. Mr. Waddilove's ticket named Six roast fowls and ham, oyster-pies, and dessert. The weary reader must pardon the minuteness of these details; the prosperity of future Pic Nics demands a full description. Voila la carte! The catering committee broke up well pleased with their arrangements. Mutius Buggins declared that he would take his gun with him, and shoot some game for the ladies' lunch, and Gawkley promised to fetch his rod and tackle, and furnish a course of fish. The Pic Nickers mustered at the appointed time and place. A fine, clear morning, gave additional brightness to the gentle stream that reflected the face of the blue sky in its pure waters, as it glided silently from its mountain source, between umbrageous banks and scenes of beauty that would charm a miser's soul. On a small bluff, delicately carpeted with the finest grass, and shaded by a few catawba and dogwood trees, the Waddiloves had pitched their tent. The furniture wagon, with the contributions of the male diners, was deep in the shade; and Mr. and Mrs. Waddilove were busily engaged in removing the va rious hampers, and displaying their contents. Miss Helena Waddilove, a fat faced pretty girl, was watching Mutius Scævola Buggins load his gun; and the young gentleman said something about bright eyes being more dangerous than double-barreled blunderbusses, and the young lady blushed, and said “Dont,” as in duty bound. Miss Selina Waddilove, who did the sentimental, and spoiled a merry laughing counte. nance and wicked eye by endeavouring to look languid and romantic, was reclining on the greensward, “in social converse sweet" with the interesting How. ard Smithers. This gentleman was particularly unfortunate in believing himself to be a wit of the first water-his pretensions to the title will shortly be perceived. An open carriage reached the spot, and Colonel A handed out an elegantly dressed lady, of more than the usual height, and with considerable pretensions to excessive beauty. The widow Fyxton greeted her friends, and, taking the arm of the colonel, sauntered to the river side. Dr. Dodd Dinkey, who, with his niece, a very young lady, had also arrived in the colonel's carriage, remained behind to give directions to the servants. Our wooden-legged friend, Tom Gawkley, had arrived in the early morning, and was strolling " by the margin of fair Schuylkill's waters," with his angle in hand, tasting the pleasures of a fisher's life. His feminine quota, a plump, middle-aged aunt, was assisting the elderly female W. in the preparations for dinner, and amusing the male W. by describing at large the accident that deprived her Jemmy of his leg. A cheering cry, a dash through the green wood, a faint scream from Miss Selina-and a couple of horses bearing Bustleton and Miss Maria A-, gal |