* * * * *
FIDELITY.--This virtue is displayed in the fulfilment of promises,
whether expressed or implied, in the conscientious scrupulous discharge
of the duties of friendship, and in the keeping of secrets. It is
therefore a great virtue, and may be used as a decisive test of
character. He who has it is entitled to confidence and respect; he who
lacks it merits contempt. If a man carefully performs his promises,
may we not confide in him? If he violates them, must we not despise
him? If we find a person is true to friendship, we may be sure that he
has just perceptions of virtue. If we find one who betrays a friend,
or who is guilty of any species of treachery, we cannot doubt that he
is essentially base and corrupt. To those who cannot keep a secret,
we commend an anecdote of Charles II. of England, which ought to be
engraved upon the heart of every man. When importuned to communicate
something of a private nature, the subtle monarch said, “Can you keep
a secret?” “Most faithfully,” returned the nobleman. “So can I,” was
the laconic and severe answer of the king. Let parents, who desire that
their children should possess the respect of the community and enjoy
the pleasures of friendship, take care to imbue them with fidelity of
character.--_Fireside Education, by S. G. Goodrich._
* * * * *
ANECDOTE.--“Guzzling Pete,” a half-witted country wight, and the town’s
jest, came home one rainy Saturday night so “darkly, deeply, beautifully
_blue_,” that he went to bed with his hat and boots on, and his old
cotton umbrella under his arm. He got up about two o’clock the next
afternoon, drunk with last night, and took his way to the meeting-house.
Rev. Dr B---- was at his “17thly” in the second of six divisions of a
very comprehensive body of Hopkinsian divinity, when “Guzzling Pete”
entered the church with an egg in each hand. He saw as through a glass
darkly, and with evident commiseration, a man in black, very red in
the face, for the day was oppressively warm, who seemed to utter
something with a great deal of vehemence, while a considerable number
of those underneath him were fast asleep--among them Deacon C----,
with his shiny-bald head leaning against the wall. Pete, unobserved by
the minister, balanced his egg, and with tolerable aim plastered its
contents directly above the deacon’s pate! Hearing the concussion, the
worthy divine paused in his discourse, and looked daggers at the maudlin
visitor. “Never mind, uncle,” exclaimed the intruder: “jest you go on
a-talkin’--_I’ll keep ’em awake for you!_” By this time the congregation
were thoroughly aroused. “Mr L----,” said the reverend pastor, with a
seeming charity, which in his mortification he could scarcely have felt,
and addressing a “tiding-man” near the door, “Mr L----, won’t you have
the kindness to remove that poor creature from the aisle? I fear that he
is sick.” “_Sick!_” stammered our qualmish hero, as he began to confirm
the fears of the clergyman by very active symptoms; “_s-i-c-k!_--yes, and
it’s enough to make a _dog_ sick to sit under such stupid preachin’ as
your’n: it’s more’n I can _stand_ under! Yes, take me out--the quicker
the better!”
* * * * *
THE ASS.--The ass performs so many useful duties besides his _choragic_
functions in our community, that he cannot be respectfully omitted. He is
called a bad vocalist, though some amateurs prefer him to the mule; but
he is perhaps underrated. There are many notes which alone are shocking
to the ear, that have in concert an agreeable harmony. The gabble of the
goose is not unpleasant in the orchestra of the barn-yard, and there are
many instances, no doubt, in which braying would improve harmony. If
one looks close into nature, he will find nothing, not even the gargle
of the frog-pond, created in vain. At Musard’s they often improve the
spirit of a gallopade by the sudden clank and crash of a chain upon a
hollow platform, with now and then a scream like the war-whoop of the
Seminoles. What the Italians understand, and what most other nations do
not, is the harmonious composition of discordant sounds. If a general
concert of nature could be formed, the crow as well as the nightingale
would be necessary to the perfect symphony; and it is likely even the
file and hand-saw might be made to discourse excellent music. But even in
a solo, the ass, according to Coleridge, has his merits. He has certainly
the merit of execution. He commences with a few prelusive notes, gently,
as if essaying his organs, rising in a progressive swell to enthusiasm,
and then gradually dies away to a pathetic close; an exact prototype of
the best German and Italian compositions, and a living sanction of the
genuine and authentic instructions of the Academie de Musique.
* * * * *
Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,
College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,
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