from Cinderella, out of tune atrociously. Alfred had armed himself with a book, and was striving to read; but five worthies, on the same bench, commenced talking politics, and after a few civil preliminaries on the subject of the general state of the country, Poland, the Reform bill, the three days, and the doctrine of nullification, started off upon General Jackson and Major Eaton, with that calm and dispassionate temper, which peculiarly distinguishes American gentlemen on board steam boats, when discussing the affairs of the nation. Alfred shut his book, leaned back, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. Resignation is a virtue. I felt for him from my soul. He is the gentlest of all human creatures. But if Major Eaton had shown himself at that moment, I would scarcely have answered for the consequences. Indeed, a little miniature dandy, with plaid pantaloons and a rattan, offering, at the same time, his silver snuff box, asked him if he did not think Major Eaton had been sadly misused? 66 No, sir," replied Alfred. "I wish they had hanged him he has been ringing in my ears these six months." Alfred shut his mouth; the person shut his box, and the bell rang for breakfast. Accepting an invitation to accompany him to his retreat, we landed at Newburgh, and crossed over the river to a farm house, at some distance in the interior. I had only time to spend a day and night with him. He was fond of reading, and had brought with him a few choice authors, to be enjoyed in uninterrupted seclusion. "Now," said Alfred, as we seated ourselves beneath the low moss covered shed, which formed the piazza of this humble habitation, "I am entering upon a kind of new existence. 'Happiness,' says Addison, is an ene my to pomp and noise;' and, believe me, there is no quiet like that of an obscure farm house. Here the thunder of carts and stages over the trembling pavements is never heard. The beating of drums, the shuffling of crowds, and all the innumerable noises of the town are strangers; and where can a man expect to find a more delightful shelter from these pests than here? Where can his memory more clearly recall the passages of his past life, or his wisdom conceive plans for the future? Here for a time evil passions lose their hold, a holy in fluence deadens our hatreds, and defines more strongly the outlines of our manly friendships. I look down on the world from this scene of repose. There is no enemy to whom I would not here extend my hand; my bosom owns an unwonted yearning for those, who, however beloved, are overlooked and neglected in the revel and riot of the town; and, what lofty temple softens the heart to adoration like this simple and lovely landscape, reposing in a peaceful beauty, untainted with the evils of the world? Here no troubles disturb, no interests clash, no accidents terrify. There is nothing like rural quiet." We were startled by a sudden shout from friend Simon, the farmer. After a pretty profane ejaculation, and a sudden rush by us, so as nearly to overturn the chair on which my friend was seated, he went on shouting, "Jacob, run, you lazy scoundrel; the hogs are in the corn. Here, Watch; here, Watch; seize 'em, boy. Run, Jacob, seize 'em, boy; run, Jacob; let down the bars." An enormous house dog, just from the pond, started through the entry at the call, and shaking the contents of his saturated hair over Alfred, laid his course, barking furiously, toward the intruding, and now alarmed quadrupeds. Simon and Jacob shouted; the pigs squeaked; Watch added to the clamor; the cows bellowed; the geese hissed; the ducks, guinea hens, and all the inhabitants of the farm yard, joined the confusion. "Nothing like rural quiet!" thought I. At supper we were interrupted by the screams of Jacob. Friend Simon was promoting his education with the end of a rope. "Poor Jacob!" said Alfred. "Poor Alfred!" thought I; troubles disturb!" 66 no interests clash, no We retired to rest early. In the room allotted to us was a clock. "What a happy thought!" said Alfred. "A clock reminds us that time flies as it proclaims the passing hour." We were just sinking into a sleep, when the clock struck ten. A rattling noise preceded the operation, and the bell might have been heard through the whole house. It awakened us regularly through the night, at the termination of every sixty minutes. "What a happy thought!" The next day was intensely hot. The sun glanced down fiercely. The leaves hung on the trees motionless. The dog lay panting in the shadow, with half a yard of tongue hanging from his mouth. The hens, &c., gathered in silent meetings under the carts and hedges. Alfred got his Shelley, and handed me Milton. Every thing was silent enough. A woman interrupted us with a mop. "Will the gentlemen please to sit on the other side of the house?" 66 Why, what are you going to do?" inquired Alfred, looking up from his book. 6: Going to wash the stoop," said the fair intruder, dashing a pail of water over the boards. We had no sooner fairly settled ourselves in another situation than Jacob came by with a load of wood. "Pretty Poll," said Jacob. 66 Pretty Poll," screamed a voice at our shoulder, in such a discordant tone, that Alfred again put his hands to his ears. It was a parrot, whose tongue, thus set in motion, regaled us with such choice specimens of colloquism, as " Pretty Poll! Pretty Poll! Ha, ha, ha! Huzza, huzza! Come to dinner. Ha, ha, ha!” Alfred looked resolutely at his Shelley. There was a dead silence. He went on with his book, and suddenly turned to me to read a passage of rare beauty. "Go to work, go to work," said Poll. "The devil take the fool," said Alfred, flinging down the volume in a passion. "Stupid fool! Stupid fool!" screamed the bird. "Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! Huzza! Huzza!" Poor Alfred! He must soon learn that there is no refuge from a misfortune, the source of which is in himself. Instead of seeking to fly from tumult, he must strive to become familiar with it. The world was not formed for the fastidious or the refined. There is only one place of rest, and long may it be ere he lies in its stillness. VOL. II.-9 METAPHYSICS. "and reasoned high Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Passion and apathy, and glory and shame Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy.”—Milton. If we could be translated into a more perfect state of existence, with all our identities and memories about us, what an interesting subject of contemplation would be our pilgrimage upon earth; what a different aspect human affairs would assume when we were elevated above their immediate interests; when we could behold them in their relations as a great whole, and perceive how all the parts were adapted to some grand consequence! I have sometimes fallen in with false reasoners, who, from the very fact that they have observed closely and thought deeply, have discarded all generally received opinions upon metaphysical subjects; and, with a singular strength of argument, convinced themselves of the truth of some of the ancient theories, that we have been created accidentally. They assert that it is more impossible-if I may be allowed the use of such a term, where we are surrounded on all sides by apparent impossibilities to imagine the time when matter did not exist, than to suppose that it has existed for ever. Taking it for granted, therefore, that matter, in some mode or other, either as atoms floating about in infinite space, or in the form of subtle gas, or perhaps in some shape with which we are totally unacquainted-(for, the more we learn, the more we are struck with our ignorance in regard to the fundamental truths of nature)— has always existed, they tell us that it must intrinsically have qualities, for what is it but a collection of qualities? Now, how it should gain any quality, though the most insignificant that meets our observation, is entirely incomprehensible to us; and when we have once perceived that, from its own nature, it possesses such as shape, density, elasticity, attraction, repulsion, &c., &c., the truly philosophical mind will experience no farther surprise, nor infer the influence of any extraneous agent, from the discovery of those qualities which distinguish dead matter from that portion encued with life, thought, sensation, affection, &c. I myself am an humble observer of these things. I cannot altogether restrain my thoughts; but I fly from the extremities to which they would lead me, and seek shelter in my ignorance from all gloomy conclusions. The restless mind may for a while abandon the pleasing hopes among which in youth it reposed, like an infant sleeping upon flowers, and shape its solitary flight through the joyless region of dim speculation; but unless it be ruined by the innumerable horrors it must encounter, it will turn back exhausted and dissatisfied to the supporting opinions and hopes of religion. Yet there are many who have been injured by dwelling too long upon such subjects, and been lost to society and themselves, amid the forbidden and dangerous mazes of metaphysics. It is best at once to acknowledge our ignorance. Man cannot cope with nature. There are subjects around which she has flung the barrier she meant to be insurmountable, and we should no more endeavor to break out of the limits which she has assigned to the range of human intellect, than we should endeavor to rise into the clouds, or live beneath the sea. I was led to these meditations by a letter which I lately received from a friend whom I had once considered a ruined man. He had been in an excellent business, and could, by industry, have attained independence; but he mortified his family at first by neglect of all his duties, and afterward by abandoning himself to dissipation. It soon became evident that he was yielding to habitual intemperance, which gradually grew so upon him that he was banished all society but such as he met in his idle haunts through the midnight streets or the riotous tavern. For this singular alteration in his character no satisfactory reason was assigned. He had before conducted himself with the strictest regard |