A man at Nashville, who bought four tickets at $12 a piece, afterwards severely blamed himself. Barnum says in regard to it: "I am not sure that others similarly situated have not experienced a somewhat similar feeling, when they became cool and rational, and the excitement of novelty and competition had died away."-p. 336. Here is an honest confession that he had humbugged the people into an irrational excitement.

But was she not a great singer? No doubt. And by her own talents and powers she would have drawn 'persons of musical taste and cultivation around her; but such a humming of all classes could never have been produced but by humbug. Thousands were but as dust caught up by the powerful force of the passing whirlwind, who had not the least appreciation of her powers. In Baltimore a whole congregation was thrown into extacies by the whisper that Jenny was in the choir. And indeed they could hear that she was. "Heavenly sounds!" "I never heard the like!" Alas! for their taste, it was only Barnum's daughter; and he says "we have never discovered that my daughter has any extraordinary claims as a vocalist."

A gentleman in New Orleans had a son about twelve years of age who was a real prodigy in the way of music. His father had no taste in that way, but as the son possessed that etherealness of soul which could measure the divine art, he bought two tickets for $30.

They went. The son was in raptures. He could scarcely speak, so extatic was his frame. Silently they walked away from the door of the theater. The father regarded the $30 of money as nothing, since it had so raised his ethereal-spirited son into the third heaven of bliss! He almost coveted the gift of such seraphic capacity. As if in dreamland, after the concert, they pass silently on, amid the crowd, the booths, and various shows that were open upon the vacant lots around. At length this ethereal son suddenly awakes. His eye catches a large sign, and he exclaims, "Father, let us go in and see the big hog!"

This we venture to say, in hundreds of cases, is a fair type of the permanency of that sublime, elevating and refining power which was claimed for this sin and sense-dispelling Orpheus. If, to this musical prodigy, it was a show giving him only a stronger taste to see the "big hog," what can be expected from its effects upon less ethereal souls.

It was Jenny Lind as a show, more than as a singer, that moved the people. The greatest crowd was always around when she was not to be heard but to be seen. When she arrived, thousands gathered at the wharf to see her. In less than ten minutes after she arrived at the Irving House, there were 10,000 on the ground. In the evening 20,000! Even dignitaries crowded her apartments to see. Nor did a crowd of clergymen fail to make fools of themselves!

In Philadelphia the crowd was so violent in calling for her appearance on the balcony, and she too sick to appear, that Barnum had to resort to a little humbug to quell the great one. He took Jenny's bonnet and shawl, put them upon another woman, and led her out to the balcony. The intelligent and musico-ethereal crowd gave her three hearty cheers, and had seen the show! In New Orleans they could not get her out of the boat for the crowd, till Barnum took his daughter by the arm, when the crowd followed him, and were led away like sheep by a shepherd.

In Cincinnati, Barnum took Miss Lind and got some one in the crowd to cry out, "That's no go, Mr. Barnum; you can't pass your daughter off for Jenny Lind this time." So the crowd remained, and the show passed on, no one following, supposing that she was yet on the boat.

Jenny was herself painfully conscious that she was in reality a show. She requested Mr. Barnum to make arrangements that she might appear at the various points incognito. Barnum says: "I considered however that the interests of the enterprise depended in a great measure upon these excitements." He tacitly assented to her desire, but secretly gave orders to his agent to telegraph, and make it known. She constantly wondered how so many found out the time of her arrival at various points in their travels. Barnum says he was not!

In Charleston the daughter of a wealthy planter paid a servant a sum of money to permit her to put on the servant's cap and white apron, and carry in the tray for Jenny's tea that she might see her. When the circumstance was told her, as an evidence of the lady's great admiration of her, she said, truly: "It is not admiration, it is only curiosity!" This is correct, and it might be applied to nineteen-twentieths of those who crowded around her.

While, therefore, we say not a word to the disparagement of her musical talent, we have presented evidence that the campaign itself was a humbug-such a one as could have grown up in no other country— for which the people paid $712,171 34. Who does not see that the religious cloak had much to do with this success.

We have no time to review the Kossuth humbug; but will only take occasion to remark that, strange as it may seem, none can so easily and effectually humbug the American public as foreigners. The king and the queen in this department were foreigners. When have the American people been made fool of so insultingly as by Dickens and Tupper. The speculators in all kinds of vulgarity in our cities are foreigners. The astrologers are all "late from Europe," "late from Sweden." The humbuggers in the musical line, are they not French and Italians?— look at the bills; there's Monsieurs Parlevou, Parleblu; Signoras Verona, Bennini, Villette! No other names on opera bills will take. They must have the foreign ending-it is as necessary to make a singer as "isky" to the end of a name is to make a Polander. So it is in our large cities. In our inland towns our ambition does not reach so far. But still, even with us, he must be from another State. "Late from Boston," or "late from New York" or, in general, "late from the East" the bait must have a foreign worm, or the public will not bite. What a humiliating want of self-respect do we thus betray. We boast of our independence, and of our superiority to oppressed Europe -we profess to pity the ignorance which can bow at the nod of tyrants -we herald our light and glory as an example to all who sit in darkness-and yet what do we? When foreign humbugs appear we open our mouths and gape in wonder-we open our purses and fill theirs! May our own good sense-may our native nationality deliver us from all foreign humbug; and may our own national character, like our Mississippi, like our Niagara, like our lakes, like our mountains, like our Washington, and like our Constitution, stand in its own majesty, original, unrivalled, and in its greatness alone!

We ought to say a few words on the effects of this evil upon individuals, and upon the public spirit of our land. This is a severe taskwho can do it justice? The vast amount of money drained from the pockets of the honest and industrious is a small part of the evil. It deranges and confuses the order, the silent earnest progress of regular business life in the community. The calm and rational pleasures of social life are vitiated by the extraordinary nostrums presented by tricksters, showmen, doggerel-mongers, and negro ballad-singers. The taste of the community is rendered morbid. Itinerant quacks, in all professions, break in upon the regular flow of social and business life, interfering imprudently with, and often disparaging, home skill, home art, home industry, and home business-carrying away by large grabs more money than is required to sustain all the useful spheres of home industry, as well as the various necessary benevolent enterprises of the community. They tear into a community like a storm into a forest, to devour and desolate.

Humbug exerts a disastrous influence upon public morals. It promotes a dishonest spirit, and induces the low and the idle to endeavor to live by trickery. It has a tendency to undermine and sap the foundation of confidence between man and man. It acts as a caricature and burlesque upon science, and destroys confidence and respect for it; for in many of the forms of humbug there is such a mixture of the true and the false, as to make the true serve the false to its own dishonor. The true is thus disparaged. The true is modest, humbug is bold and impudent, and hence he throws into the shade and over-tops that which is a true benefit to man. This we see constantly. True skill in musical science is not encouraged; but not so with doggerel ballads and negro songs. True, serious, and useful authorships can scarcely live; but not so with hot-bed novels, morbid vulgarity, or the impudent life of a humbug. True medical skill and science is left far behind by the bold sweep of quackery. In short there is scarcely any department of regular, honest business, that is not forced to unequal competition with the intrusions of some foreign counterfeit in the same line of business.

The spirit of humbug is especially injurious to the young. It fills their minds with strange ambition, and with dangerous fancies. Seduces them to the idea that life is not an earnest, honest struggle, in which worthy action alone is honorable, but a game of chance, offering its best rewards to the grab of trick and cunning. This is the unblushing lesson which Barnum teaches in his Autobiography. Behold the end of his teachings in his own late bankruptcy.

We cannot, without some effort, by which we transfer ourselves back into the innocent age of childhood, form any true idea of the effect produced upon the unsuspecting and credulous minds of children by the mysterious professions of astrologers, and the brazen-faced vulgarities of medical quacks, as exhibited in almost every secular newspaper-and in some religious ones-that enter our families. They believe it all-their visions feed upon it in wonder-and deep in their young minds lies the permanent impression!

Who has not seen the effect of any kind of humbug upon children. For weeks after one has swarmed in a town, you can see mimicings and imitations of their sayings and doings in the boys upon the street.

GOD'S BLESSING ON THEM.

BY CHARLES WILTON.

God's blessing on them!-those old saints,
Who battled hard and long;

Who cleft in twain a stubborn chain,
And conquered might and wrong!
Oh Time! revere their sanctity,

Nor let their glory cease,

For by mortal victory

They sealed immortal peace.

God's blessings on them!-those stout hearts,

In these advancing days,

Who seek to guide the progress stride

From error's countless ways!

Oh be their track a track of light,
The onward march of man,

The wise to shape our steps aright-
The good to lead the van!

God's blessing on them!—one and all,
Of every rank and clime,

Who strive to aid the stern crusade
Against the growth of crime !
Oh be their names a rallying cry
For ages yet to come,

A word whose echo shall not die

Till nature's self be dumb!

UNPUBLISHED LITERATURE.

BY THE EDITOR.

We have carried our history of unpublished school-boy literature up to that period which may be called full boyhood. We have shown that there is at this time in boy-life danger of a certain kind of unlovely development a characteristic bravo spirit which is rough, roguish, and rowdyish. We now proceed.

The period which may be called early youth, when the large boy begins to merge into the incipient young man, has its distinctly marked peculiarities. Nick-names no longer please they are hated. The spirit assumes a sober, yea, even a serious tone. The youth now writes under his name, on the blank leaf of his school-book

"The grass is green,

The rose is red:
Here stands my name,
When I am dead."

The boy is satisfied with himself; but the youth no more. He begins to have strange longings. Instincts begin to dawn, which reach forward in the way of the spirit destiny, and he hears the soundings of immortality. The soul begins to turn its reflections in upon itself, and listens to its own prophetic undertones.

"A solemn murmur in the soul,

Tells of the world to be,

As travelers hear the billows roll
Before they reach the sea."

That the stanza which the youth now loves to record under his name, is prompted by the instincts of immortality is seen at once in the lines

"Here stands my name
When I am dead."

Hence not

The aspirations of the spirit will leave their record behind. only on this blank page does the youth seek to leave his name, but in other places also he records it, that his memorial may not perish with him when he is dead." Behold the same youth, at this period of life, not only in the school-room cutting his name in the writing desk and bench, but see him also in the rural arbor, and among the smoothedbacked trees, whither his pensive feelings have led him, carving for immortality!

"With knife deface

The panels, leaving an obscure, rude name,
In characters uncouth, and spelt amiss.
So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself
Beats in the heart of man, that even a few,

Few transient years, won from the abyss abhorr'à
Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize."