quite certain would not have the tendency which the writer contemplates.
It would discourage rather than foster that better taste which is gaining
ground among us. In this city, how great have been the improvements in the
exterior and interior decorations of our dwellings, within the last eight
years! We remember the time as it were but yesterday, when the beautiful
muslin window-shades, first introduced among us by Mr. GEORGE PLATT, were
considered a luxury of interior decoration--as indeed many of them were.
But from these small yet promising beginnings, our accomplished artist has
gone on, until his extensive establishment is filled with specimens of
rich and elaborate architectural decorations, for the various styles of
which the reigns of French and English sovereigns have been put under the
most liberal contribution. Our wealthy and tasteful citizens have vied
with each other in the enriching and beautifying of their mansions; while,
also emulous, a kindred class in our sister-cities have laid requisitions
upon Mr. PLATT'S architectural and decorative genius, (for in him it _is_
genius, and of no intermediate order,) which have convinced _him_ at
least, that the 'laggard taste' which our correspondent arraigns, is 'not
so slow' as he seems to imagine. · · · WHO was '_Dandy Jim from
Caroline_,' of whom every boy in the street is either whistling or
singing, and whom we 'have heard spoken of' by musical instruments and
that of all sorts, at every party or ball which we have found leisure to
attend during the gay season? We are the more anxious to glean some
particulars touching the origin and history of this personage, because his
fame is rife among our legislators, and the 'lobby-interest' at Albany; if
we may judge from a quatrain before us, which hints at a verbal
peculiarity of our excellent representative, Alderman VARIAN, whose _v_
always takes the form of a _w_, especially in his rendering of a foreign
tongue; as witness his being 'just on the _qwi-wi-we_ for the capitol,' on
one occasion, and the subjoined versification of another of his Latin
sentences, with cockney 'wariations:'
'Then here's a health to WARI-AN,
That '_Weni, widi, wici_' man!
He talk de grammar werry fine,
Like DANDY JIM o' Caroline:
For my ole massa tol' me so,' etc.
* * * * *
There is in these humane and benevolent days an increasing sympathy in the
public mind for a man condemned to 'march sorrowfully up to the gallows,
there to be noosed up, vibrate his hour, and await the dissecting-knife of
the surgeon,' who fits his bones into a skeleton for medical purposes.
'There never was a public hanging,' says a late advocate of the abolition
of capital punishment, 'that was productive of any thing but evil.' There
is an anecdote recorded of WHITFIELD, however, which seems to refute this
position, in at least one instance. This eloquent divine, while at
Edinburgh, attended a public execution. His appearance upon the ground
drew the eyes of all around him, and raised a variety of opinions as to
the motives which led him to join in the crowd. The next day, being
Sunday, he preached to a large body of men, women and children, in a field
near the city. In the course of his sermon, he adverted to the execution
which had taken place the preceding day. 'I know,' said he, 'that many of
you will find it difficult to reconcile my appearance yesterday with my
character. Many of you will say, that my moments would have been better
employed in praying with the unhappy man, than in attending him to the
fatal tree, and that perhaps curiosity was the only cause that converted
me into a spectator on that occasion: but those who ascribe that
uncharitable motive to me are under a mistake. I witnessed the conduct of
almost every one present on that occasion, and I was highly pleased with
it. It has given me a very favorable impression of the Scottish nation.
Your sympathy was visible on your countenances, and reflected the greatest
honor on your hearts: particularly when the moment arrived in which your
unhappy fellow creature was to close his eyes on this world forever, you
all, as if moved by one impulse, turned your heads aside and wept. Those
tears were precious, and will be held in remembrance. How different was it
when the Saviour of mankind was extended on the cross! The Jews, instead
of sympathizing in his sorrows, triumphed in them. They reviled him with
bitter expressions, with words even more bitter than the gall and vinegar
which they gave him to drink. Not one of them all that witnessed his
pains, turned the head aside even in the last pang. Yes, there was one;
that glorious luminary, (pointing to the sun,) veiled his bright face and
sailed on in tenfold night!' _This_ is eloquence! Would that we could have
seen the beaming features, the 'melting eye, turned toward heaven,' which
indelibly impressed these words upon the heart of every hearer! · · · MANY
of our readers will doubtless remember the time when Professor J----, the
celebrated 'artist in hair,' was flourishing in his glory, and when his
fame was perhaps as rife in New-York and Boston as that of any man living,
in his line of art. His advertisements too, so unique in their
grandiloquent phraseology, will not soon be forgotten by those who relish
such things. The Professor is not now, as regards worldly prosperity, the
man he used to be; but his gentlemanly feeling still clings to him, and
his pride in his profession is as enthusiastic as ever. We observe by a
Boston journal that he is once more trying his luck in our eastern
metropolis; and this reminds us of an anecdote concerning him. A friend
tells us that some months since he encountered the professor at a
coffee-house, where he was rehearsing to a rather verdant customer the
former glories of his professional life. Among other things, 'At one
time,' said he, 'I was sent for by express, to go to Philadelphia on
professional business.' 'To do what?' asked his listener. 'To make wigs
for the Signers of the Declaration of Independence!' replied J----, with a
pompous air. Now the professor's comrade was not very quick-witted, as we
have already hinted, and it did not occur to him at the moment whether the
signers were men only of yesterday, or of the last century; and he
rejoined, in a tone of wonder: 'What! do they _all_ wear wigs?' '_All?_'
replied the professor, with a look of mingled piety and triumph; 'why,
Sir, did you ever know a wax-figure to wear its own hair? Men of flesh and
blood, now-a-days, don't know any better; but the _man of wax_, Sir,
possesses a truer taste, and always consults the PERRUQUIER!' The relator
says it would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of the superb
manner in which the last word was uttered; the full round tone, and the
tonsorial flourish of the right hand, as if it still grasped the magic
brush and scissors. · · · THE reader will have gathered from an incidental
allusion in an article by Mr. GEORGE HARVEY, in our last number, some idea
of the fervent enthusiasm with which he has studied and copied Nature, in
her every variety of season and changes of the hour, in executing his
beautiful _Landscape Drawings_. We have neither the leisure nor space for
an _adequate_ notice of these pictures; but being solicitous that our town
readers should participate in the great enjoyment which they have afforded
us, we would direct them to Mr. HARVEY'S exhibition-room at the old Apollo
Gallery, nearly opposite the Hospital, in Broadway. · · · HERE is a
pleasant specimen of an '_Unnecessary Disclaimer_,' for which we are
indebted to a metropolitan friend: 'A few evenings since, as a gentleman
was walking up Broadway, and just as he was crossing the side-walk at the
junction of White-street, his feet suddenly slipped from under him, his
hat flew forward with the involuntary jerk, and he measured his length on
the side-walk, striking his bare head on the hard ice, till all rang
again. At the instant it chanced that a lady and gentleman were just
emerging from White-street into Broadway, and the prostrate sufferer,
lying directly across their path, interrupted for a moment their farther
progress. He soon recovered his feet, however, and with one hand on his
newly-developed bump, and the other on his breast, he turned to the couple
whose passage he had impeded, and exclaimed with cool gravity: 'Excuse me;
_I didn't intend to do it!_' Probably he didn't; at all events, his word
was not disputed. · · · MOST likely our readers have not forgotten an
admirable satire upon the 'Songs of the Troubadours,' from which we
extracted some months since the affecting story of 'The Taylzour's
Daughter.' Something in the same style is '_The Doleful Lay of the
Honorable I. O. Uwins_,' a gentleman who threw himself away upon a
bailiff's daughter, to escape from the restraints and pungent odors of a
sponging-house. The 'whole course of wooing' and the result are hinted at
in the ensuing lines:
'There he sate in grief and sorrow,
Rather drunk than otherwise,
Till the golden gush of morrow
Dawned once more upon his eyes;
Till the spunging bailiff's daughter,
Lightly tapping at the door,
Brought his draught of soda-water,
Brandy-bottomed as before.
'Sweet REBECCA! has your father,
Think you, made a deal of brass?'
And she answered: 'Sir, I rather
Should imagine that he has.'
UWINS, then, his whiskers scratching,
Leer'd upon the maiden's face;
And her hands with ardor catching,
Folded her in his embrace.
'La, Sir! let alone--you fright me!'
Said the daughter of the Jew:
'Dearest! how these eyes delight me!
Let me love thee, darling, do!'
'Vat is dish?' the bailiff mutter'd,
Rushing in with fury wild;
'Ish your muffins so vell butter'd
Dat you darsh insult ma shild?'
'Honorable my intentions,
Good ABEDNEGO, I swear!
And I have some small pretensions,
For I am a Baron's heir.
If you'll only clear my credit,
And a thousand give or so,
She's a peeress; I have said it!
Don't you twig, ABEDNEGO?'
'Datsh a very different matter!'
Said the bailiff, with a leer;
'But you musht not cut it fatter
Than ta slish will shtand, ma tear!
If you seeksh ma approbation,
You must quite give up your rigsh;
Alsho, you mosht join our nation,
And renounch ta flesh of pigsh.'
* * * * *
At a meeting of the Rabbis,
Held about the Whitsuntide,
Was this thorough-paced Barabbas
Wedded to his Hebrew bride.
All his former debts compounded,
From the spunging-house he came;
And his father's feelings wounded
With reflections on the same.'
It is a very dear marriage for UWINS, for on visiting his father the
Baron, that incensed nobleman tells the double-dyed apostate never to
cross his threshold again, and directs JOHN the porter to kick him into
the street. The order is anticipated:
'Forth rushed I. O. UWINS, faster
Than all winking, much afraid
That the orders of the master
Would be punctually obeyed;
Sought his club, and there the sentence
Of expulsion first he saw:
No one dared to own acquaintance
With a bailiff's son-in-law.
Uselessly down Bond-street strutting,
Did he greet his friends of yore;
Such a universal cutting
Never man received before.
Till at last his pride revolted;
Pale, and lean, and stern, he grew;
And his wife REBECCA bolted
With a missionary Jew.
Ye who read this doleful ditty,
Ask ye where is UWINS now?
Wend your way through London city,
Climb to Holborn's lofty brow;
Near the sign-post of 'The Nigger,'
Near the baked-potato shed,
You may see a ghastly figure,
With three hats upon his head.
When the evening shades are dusky,
Then the phantom form draws near,
And, with accents low and husky,
Pours effluvia in your ear;
Craving an immediate barter
Of your trousers or surtout,
And you know the Hebrew martyr,
Once the peerless I. O. U.'
* * * * *
A friend, in a recent letter to the Editor, thus alludes to the '_National
Intelligencer_,' one of the ablest and most dignified journals in the
country, and to two of its 'special correspondents:' 'Mr. WALSH, who
writes from Paris, seems an incorporation of European literature and
politics; and his articles are, in my belief, the most valuable now
contributed to any journal in the world. Willis is the lightest and most
mercurial 'knight of the quill' in all the tournament. It is astonishing
with what dexterity, felicity, and grace he touches off the veriest trifle
of the day, investing the trite with originality, and giving the value of
wit and poetry to the worthless and the dry. Pity that this brilliant
'quid nunc' should degenerate into a mere trifling '_arbiter
elegantiarum_,' and expend his buoyant and ductile genius in the
indictment of ephemeral paragraphs. His genius, it is true, has little
solidity; but if he would rest two or three years on his oars, he might
collect the scatterings of wit and poetry, which would in that time accrue
to him from his readings and reflections, into a volume of essays, etc.,
which would be inferior in brilliancy and piquancy to but few of any
nation.' Possibly; but in the mean time, let us advise our friend, Mr.
WILLIS has the little substantials of every-day life to look after. He
'pleases to write' frequently and _currente calamo_, because he 'pleases
_to live_.' Fame is one thing, and can be waited for; there are other
things that cannot tarry so well. Mr. WILLIS has 'seen the elephant.' He
knows that KENNY MEADOWS is not far out of the way in his humorous picture
of '_The Man of Fame and the Man of Funds_,' wherein a shadowy hand
protrudes from cloud-land, holding a pair of steel-yards, to resolve the
comparative weight of an appetizing leg-of-mutton, and a huge
laurel-wreath. The mutton 'has it' all to nothing, and the wreath 'kicks
the beam! · · · PUNCH, up to the latest dates, suddenly makes his
appearance in our sanctum. Merriest of Merry Andrews, he is ever welcome!
His 'COMIC BLACKSTONE,' must be of great service to legal gentlemen. In
it, among other things, we are enlightened as to the '_Rights of the
Clergy_.' We subjoin a few items: 'An archbishop is a sort of inspector of
all the bishops in his province; but he does not call them out as an
inspector would so many policemen, to examine their mitres, and see that
their lawn sleeves are properly starched, before going on duty in their
respective dioceses. An archbishop may call out the bishops, just as a
militia colonel may call out the militia.' 'A bishop (_episcopes_) is
literally an overseer, instead of which it is notorious that some of them
are overlookers of their duties, and blind to the state of their diocese,
though they call it their see.' 'The duties incumbent on a parson are,
first to act as the incumbent, by living in the place where he has his
living. Formerly, a clergyman had what is called the benefit of clergy in
cases of felony; a privilege which, if a layman had asked for, he would
have been told that the authorities would 'see him hanged first.' 'A
curate is the lowest grade in the church, for he is a sort of journeyman
parson, and several of them meet at a house of call in St. Paul's
Church-Yard, ready to job a pulpit by the day, and being in fact
'clergyman taken in to bait' by the landlord of the house alluded to.'
Concerning '_Subordinate Magistrates_,' as officers of the customs,
overseers of the poor, etc., we glean the following information:
'Tide-waiters are overseers of the customs duties, therefore it is their
duty to overlook the customs. Custom is unwritten law, and a practice may
be termed a custom when it can be proved to have lasted for a hundred
years. Now, can any man doubt that the custom of defrauding the customs
has endured more than a hundred years? Then the practice has become a law,
and for observing this law, which, it seems, is one of our time-revered
institutions, and a profitable proof of the wisdom of our ancestors,
landing-waiters and tradesmen are to be prosecuted and punished. Monstrous
injustice!' 'Overseers of the Poor are functionaries who sometimes
literally over-see or over-look the cases of distress requiring
assistance. The poor law of ELIZABETH has been superseded by a much poorer
law of WILLIAM the Fourth, the one great principle of which is, to afford
the luxury of divorce to persons in needy circumstances. It also
discountenances relief to the able-bodied, a point which is effected by
disabling, as far as possible, any body who comes into the work-house. The
Poor Law is administered by three Commissioners, who spend their time in
diluting gruel and writing reports; trying experiments how little will
suffice to prevent a repeal of the union between the soul and the body.'
We have this information concerning the clock heretofore complained of:
'PUNCH has been accused of hitting this clock very hard when it was down;
and it certainly must be admitted that it was wholly unable to strike in
return. We are happy to say that the wound has been followed by the clock
being at last wound, and we now offer to take it by the hands in a spirit
of friendship. We have been told that the long stagnation has been caused
by the absurd scruples of the pendulum, which refused to go from side to
side, lest it should be accused of inconsistency.' Under the different
months, 'PUNCH'S Almanack' gives many important directions, one of which
is for the proprietors of the public gardens: 'Now trim your lamps, water
your lake, graft new noses on statues, plant your money-taker, and if the
season be severe, _cut your sticks_.' The following '_Tavern Measure_' is
doubtless authentic: Two 'goes' make one gill; two gills one 'lark;' two
larks one riot; two riots one cell, or station-house, equivalent to five
shillings.' For office-clerks, as follows: Two drams make one 'go;' two
goes one head-ache; two head-aches one lecture; two lectures 'the sack.'
To those gentlemen who are lovers of the Virginia weed in its native
purity, a list of prices, 'furnished by one of the first _Spanish_
houses,' is published. It includes 'choice high-dried dock-leaf regalias,'
'fine old cabbage Cuba's,' 'genuine goss-lettuce Havana's,' and
'full-flavored brown-paper Government Manilla's!' Two scraps under the
head of '_University Intelligence_' must close our quotations: 'Given the
_force_ with which your fist is propelled against a cabman, and the
_angle_ at which it strikes him; required the _area_ of mud he will cover
on reaching the _horizontal plane_.' 'Show the incorrectness of using
_imaginary quantities_, by attempting to put off your creditors with
repeated promises to pay them out of your Pennsylvania dividends.' · · ·
MANY German physicians and surgeons hold that there remains in the brain
of a decollated head some degree of thought, and in the nerves something
of sensibility. It is stated by his biographer, that in the case of Sir
EVERARD DIGBY, executed for a participation in the Gunpowder Plot, the
tongue pronounced several words after the head was severed from the body.
After the execution of CHARLOTTE CORDAY, also, it is alleged that the
executioner held up her lovely head by its beautiful hair, and slapped the
pale cheeks, which instantly reddened, and gave to the features such an
expression of unequivocal indignation, that the spectators, struck by the
change of color, with loud murmurs cried out for vengeance on barbarity so
cowardly and atrocious. 'It could not be said,' writes Dr. SUE, a
physician of the first eminence and authority in Paris, 'that the redness
was caused by the blow, since no blow can ever recall any thing like color
to the cheeks of a corpse; beside, this blow was given on one cheek, and
the other equally reddened.' Singular facts. Do they not militate against
certain theories of 'nervous sensation' recently promulgated in our
philosophical circles? · · · DOESN'T it sicken you, reader, to hear a
young lady use that common but horrid commercial metaphor, '_first-rate?_'
'How did you like CASTELLAN, last evening, Miss HUGGINS?' '_Oh,
first-rate!_' 'When a girl makes use of this expression,' writes an
eastern friend, 'I mutter inly,' 'Your pa' sells figs and salt-fish, I
know he does.' And it is all very well and proper, if he _does_; but for
the miserable compound itself, pray kill it dead in your Magazine! Hit it
hard! By the by, talking of odd phrases, hear this. A young Italian friend
of mine, fresh from Sicily as his own oranges, a well-educated, talented
person, who has labored hard to get familiar with English letters, and has
read our authors, from CHAUCER downward, dilated thus on the poets: 'PO-PE
is very mosh like HORACE; I like him very mosh; but I tink BIR-RON was
very sorry poet.' 'What!' quoth I, 'BYRON a sorry poet! I thought he was a
favorite with Italians?' 'Oh, yes; I adore him very mosh; I almost do
admire him; but he was very _sorry_ poet.' 'How so? BYRON a sorry bard?'
'Oh, yes, very sorry; don't you think so? _molto triste_--very
mel-_an_-choly; don't you find him so? I always feel very sorry when I
read him. I think he's far more sorry than PETRARCA; don't you?' This will
remind the reader of the very strong term used by a Frenchman, who on
being asked at a soirée what was the cause of his evident sadness,
replied: 'I av just hear my fader he die: _I_ am ver' mosh _dissatisfied!_'
· · · WE shall _probably_ find a place for the paper entitled '_Foreigners
in America_.' The writer touches with a trenchant pen upon 'the social
abuses which the first families in the metropolis tolerate at the hands of
disreputable exquisites and titled rascals.' Nervous words, but not
undeserved. 'How much more rapidly a fashionable foreigner will move in
the high road of preferment than one of your thinking, feeling, complex
persons, in whom honor, integrity and reason make such a pother that no
step can be taken without consulting them!' · · · WE have indulged in one
or two sonorous guffaws, and several of Mr. COOPER's 'silent laughs,' over
the following 'palpable hit' from a New-Jersey journal: 'A
talking-machine,' says the 'Newton Herald,' 'which speaks passable French,
capital English, and choice Italian, is now to be seen at New-York. It is
made of wood, brass, and gum-elastic.' 'A similar machine,' adds the
'Sussex Register,' 'compounded of buckram, brass, and soap-locks, and
familiarly called 'GREEN JOSEY,' is to be seen in Newton, at the Herald
office; though we cannot say that it speaks _any_ language 'passably.' It
frequently makes the attempt, however, and here is one of its last
'essays:' 'Gov. GILMER is understood to have had a standing CART-BALANCE
for any appointment under the present administration, which he might
choose to _except_; but he will not _except_ an appointment of any kind
under this administration.' Isn't that 'standing _cart-balance_' rich? The
usual phrase _carte-blanche_, which in the sentence quoted might be
rendered by 'unconditional offer,' is transmogrified into _cart-balance_!
Among all the blunders perpetrated by conceited ignorance in its attempts
to _parley-voo_, this stands unequalled. We have seen _hic jacet_ turned
into _his jacket_, in an obituary; that was a trifle; but CART-BALANCE
overcomes our gravity!' So it does ours. The anecdote, to adopt the
reading of a kindred accomplished linguist whom we wot of, is a 'capital
_jesus-de-sprit!_' · · · THE beginning of 'L.'s '_Stanzas_' is by no means
unpromising; but what a 'lame and impotent conclusion!'
'Lord HOWE he went out,
And LORD! how he came in!'
The third verse would do credit to STREET, so graphic and poetical are the
rural images introduced; but it runs into the fourth, a stanza 'most
tolerable, and not to be endured.' Our young friend may be assured that we
shall _not_ 'regard with indifference' any thing from his pen that may
fulfil the _promise_ of the lines to which we allude. Na'theless, he must
'squeeze out more of his whey.' · · · THE admirers of one of the most
popular contributors that this Magazine ever enjoyed, will be glad to meet
with the following announcement: