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dreamt. Instantly the whole world becomes to him a paradise, and, exulting in his own nature, he stalks abroad a mental and moral giant. What extrinsic sources of delight can the mind, under the control of such emotions, desire. It longs to be alone, to hold converse with itself, to lose every care in the consideration of its own noble destiny; and whether the world is bright or dark,-whether the sun shines or the tempest lowers,-it stands amid the warring elements, still and unchangeably the

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Let other joys unwept depart :
There is one kindly ray,

That yet may smile upon the soul,
The twilight of its day.

Yes dearest Friendship shall remain-
That gem shall still survive;
When fancy's sun-light beams depart,
Kind Friendship yet shall live.

Not so with him who vainly boasts
The world are all his friends;
For he shall all too quickly find
How dark his prospect ends;

Curse his mad folly in despair,

His loneliness and gloom

Mourn o'er the death of all his hopes-

The cypress of their tomb.

G. H.

MIXUM GATHERUM, ALIAS HOTCH-POTCH.

No. II.

"Titles and mottos to books are like escutcheons and dignities in the hands of a king-the wise sometimes condescend to accept of them; but none but fools imagine them of any real importance. We ought to depend upon intrinsic merit, and not the slender helps of titles. For my part, I am ever ready to mistrust a promising title; and have at some expense, been instructed not to hearken to the voice of an advertisement,-let it plead never so loudly or never so long.

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"A countryman coming one day to Smithfield, in order to take a slice of Bartholomew fair, found a perfect show before each booth. The drummer, the fire-eater, the wire-walker, and the salt-box, were all employed to invite him in. Just a going the court of the king of Prussia, in all his glory; pray, gentlemen walk in and see.' From people who generously gave so much away, the clown expected a monstrous bargain for his sixpence; the curtain is drawn; when too late, he finds that he had the best part of the show for nothing at the door."

MAUGRE all these fine lucubrations of Dr. Goldsmith, I shall not, most respected and respectable reader, entertain a single doubt as to the aptness or pungency of my title. That it is more available than any other I could adopt, all I think will allow, who reflect how obnoxious are the authors of this day to the charge of wandering. A charge so formidable as this can never be urged against me, shielded as I am behind so redoubtable a caption as Mixum Gatherum. Besides, do we not my friends exist in a sort of hotch-potch age? An age of anties and ultras; of nice distinctions and fine-spun theories long-drawn out; an age of hair

splitting of every description, from the splitting of the finest hair in the Rev. Doctor's wig, down to the fiercest and proudest bristle of his swineship?

Amid all this accumulation of theories and hypotheses, concerning which wise heads so dearly love to wrangle and disagree, and brand each other as heretics and quacks, until we are compelled nolens volens, to believe their opponents the disciples of either Moloch or Mammon, or both; in all this wide range, is there, I ask, one subject irrelevant to my title? I have never made pretensions to an extra allowance of prudence, discretion, or sagacity. Neither do I affect eccentricity: indeed, my antipathy to be considered odd, is only equal to my fears of being found in a road so beaten and common as neither to excite interest, nor gratify curiosity. I affect nothing, boast nothing, and am entirely willing to be thought even to know nothing-providing always, I can be sure of contributing my little mite, to the sum total of thy individual happiness.

In a word, now that we are over with the preliminaries of an introduction, I entreat you not to stand at the door, bowing and scraping, and staring at my physiognomy; but come in and view the interior, where should your reception fall below your expectations, it will not be because I have not endeavored to provide for you, both in variety and novelty, a cheerful and refreshing entertainment.

In this respect, I hope you will experience no disappointment, like that of Dr. Goldsmith's countryman; and whether your anticipations have been high or low, you shall not have the "best part of the show at the door." I must, however, be permitted to take my own course; for, even should your advice be excellent, it would here be entirely useless, and I fear worse than useless; since in the first place, it might clip the wings of, and so curtail my imagination; and in the next, by so doing, you might meddle with what you have not even the faintest conception. My caution is not so large as to prevent my being somewhat venturesome, nor my dread of innovation so terrible as to set me shuddering at the bare sight of any thing new and strange. I amwilling to venture, and push my little barque out to sea, feeling as well assured of not succeeding in weathering the storm unless I do, as of not being shipwrecked should I remain in port. Well is it said, "the little mind that loves itself, will write and think with the vulgar, but the great mind will be boldly eccentric, and scorn the beaten road from pure benevolence." I prescribe to myself no rules or laws, and acknowledge no precedent. It is, no doubt, perfectly right for a man, at times, to be profuse in vanity; now writing in your argumentative phraseology; and now in your fanciful imaginings; now in sentimental prosing, and now in humorous charming poetry-at one time, indulging in bright flashes

of humor; and at another, sallying forth in sparkling coruscations of wit-yet all intended for sound instruction, and amusing entertainment. He should aim at novelty and variety; sometimes leading his reader on in gentle perambulations over the green fields of fancy; and sometimes pausing in his wanderings to investigate the more palpable matters of fact-now culling a flower, or choosing out some choice gem; and now chiselling out from sterner materials, the purer granite of thought. If at one time, his discourse be like the waterfall, leaping and dashing down the hill-side; anon, it should resemble the silent meanderings of the deep, broad river.

"Fury and fiddle-strings!" methinks some obstreperous critic exclaims, "what can all this have to do with the 'simple tale of sentiment,' we were to have?" I will keep my promise. Nevertheless, whoever thou art, that art wont to take delight in rescuing thy thoughts from oblivion, and giving to them breathing expression and burning efficacy, well thou knowest, it is one thing to promise, and another to fulfill. Often have I resumed and reresumed the 'grey goose quill' with a most honest intent to perpetrate something for thine especial edification, often contracted my eyebrows, pressed my temples, laid the right fore-finger, Sternelike, upon the bridge of my nasal organ, and thrust the digital extremes of the sinister arm through my locks; but all in vain! I have ruminated and cogitated, till, alas! despair has sat on my large Roman nose, and the big tears, like great drops of rain, have rolled down upon my care-worn cheeks, and mingling there, have run down most riverously over my new jacket!! In this sad dilemma, nothing could come more pat to the purpose, than a long epistle from a revered and veteran uncle of mine.

It becomes me to sketch briefly his biography. In his youthful years he was a quiet denizen of the town, with no desires or aspirations beyond the smoke of the paternal chimney. But a catastrophe befell him. He became smitten of the tender passion, and his addresses being rejected, he could not endure to dwell in the land of his Dulcinea. Tired of the monotony of home, he went out from under the paternal roof, and became a citizen of the world. He roamed far and wide-visited all nations, and saw the wonders of all the globe. No desert so dreary, no wilderness so wild, no mountain so lofty, as to hinder his peregrinations. He scaled the Alps, stood on the Apennines, traversed the burning sands of Arabia, and penetrated even to the interior of Ethiopia! He encountered many dangers, and had many hairbreadth escapes both by sea and land. He is now clothed in his right mind, on every subject except one; is a man of not inferior parts, and may be called learned. He has his hobby-horse, to be

sure, which he rides as intelligently as most men do theirs, unless when a thought of that one event crosses his poor brain. He always had a wonderful love for the marvelous, and has ever been an industrious collector of curious things. In short, he is a perfect antiquarian, and delights in nothing so much as in searching after black-letter lore. Many years has he passed among the subterraneous catacombs of Egypt, decyphering those dark and mysterious hieroglyphics; and such an adept has he become, by his experience in such matters, that no specimen, or relic, or ancient inscription, can elude his grasp, when he brings the immense stores of his erudition to bear thereupon. Nevertheless, he has been exceedingly puzzled by one obscure and very antique manuscript, which he obtained in a strange manner, and under strange circumstances.

From this old uncle of black-letter-lore memory, I have received from the East a very lengthy communication, from which I shall make copious extracts. It will be seen that the old bachelor has not been able to make out a very perfect translation. The reflecting will kindly make due allowances, considering its intrinsic difficulties, owing to the great antiquity of the fragment, the obsolete language of the original, and particularly, that the translator is an old man, and has been long absent in foreign parts. My extracts shall be verbatim et literatim; the epistle commences in this wise.

My dear Nephew,

Mountains of the Moon, Ethiopia.

Canst thou believe, I have been doubly requited for all my toil and wandering? What I am now to unfold, will be to thee for a wonder. That fountain, mentioned in my last, issued from the entrance of a spacious cavern. I have since carefully explored it. It is full of strange things, but the most curious of all, is a roll of old parchment, which I discovered far in the interior, in a little nook, which seemed arranged for its reception, where it appeared to have been placed for preservation. It bears marks of great antiquity, and is truly an entertaining history of a singular and remote people-far back up the stream of time. I am lost in conjecture, and dare express no opinion. The language is unlike any other, and difficult of translation. Wherever, owing to obliterations from time and mould, I have failed to render a perfect interpretation, I have given in my own words what I consider the true meaning. Did such a people ever exist it should be promulgated, as much for the benefit of the present, as of coming generations. I transmit it to you, hoping you will print it in our own tongue, that it may be to our countrymen both useful and agreeable. As ever, my dear nephew, I am

Your affectionate and obliged uncle.

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