ers. volved on women of shrill voices, copious | ces, but in which flattery was by no means of tears, and skilful in lamenting and prais- spared. Then, when the time arrived for ing the dead in mournful songs and eulo- the body to be carried to the funeral pile, gies. When a person in a family died, it a choir of hired mourners attended, who was customary for the female relatives to by their bare breasts, which they often seat themselves upon the ground in a sep- smote, their dishevelled hair, and their arate apartment, in a circle, in the centre mournful chants and profuse tears, moved, of which sat the wife, daughter, or other or sought to move, the minds of the specnearest relative, and thus, assisted by the tators in favor of the deceased, and to mourning women, conducted their loud compassion for his bereaved friends, whose and piercing lamentations. At intervals, respect for his memory their own presence the mourning women took the leading part, indeed indicated. These women were unon a signal from the chief mourner; and der the direction of one who bore the title then the real mourners remained compara- præfica, who regulated the time and tone tively silent, but attested their grief by of their lamentations. They were attired sobs, by beating their faces, tearing their in the black robe of mourning and afflichair, and sometimes wounding their per- tion, called by the Romans pulla. It sons with their nails, joining also aloud in should be observed that, as intimated by the lamenting chorus of the hired mourn- the prophet Jeremiah, a principal object The family of the deceased general- of the displays of the hired mourners was ly send for two or more Neddábehs (or to rouse the sorrow of the bereaved relapublic wailing women); but some persons tives, maintaining the excitement of afflicdisapprove of this custom, and many, to tion by enumerating the virtues and qualavoid unnecessary expense, do not conformities of the deceased, as well as, by the to it. Each neddábeh brings with her a same means, to excite the sympathising tár (or tambourine), which is without the lamentations of those not immediately intinkling plates of metal that are attached terested in the event. to the hoops of the common tár. The neddábehs beating their társ, exclaim several times, "Alas for him!" and praise his turban, his handsome person, &c.; and the female relations, domestics, and friends of the deceased (with their tresses dishevelled, and sometimes with rent clothes), beating their own faces, cry in like manner, "Alas for him!" This wailing is generally continued at least an hour. It is of course resumed at intervals. The details vary in different parts of the east, and in some places the musicians form a separate body, as they did among the Hebrews. The scene represented in the engraving is a Turkish cemetery, to which the immediate female relatives pay daily visits to the grave for some days after the interment; but in cases of unavoidable absence their places are also supplied here by the hired mourning women. COURTESY. E do not hesitate to claim for courtesy, as Doctor Johnson did for cleanliness, a place among the virtues. It is a virtue, and one which greatly promotes the comfort and happiness of mankind. It is the sugar in the cup of life-the sweetener of domestic and social existence. The very name of this grace is so associated with the stiff, frigid, and in some instances, ludicrous forms of etiquette, that we are apt to over look its worth, and have inadequate ideas | sensible listeners of the taunt of a venerof its importance. These forms, unless able scripture worthy, "No doubt but ye they be all the more extravagant, are by no means to be neglected; but it should not be forgotten that they are often punctiliously observed by persons who do not know what real politeness is-in whose minds the sentiments that create true cour-ers as incense to his own vanity—a practesy have no place. To be courteous in the best sense, we must have an humble estimate of ourselves and our attainments. Excessive vanity and true politeness will not be found together. When you meet with a person who is on the very best terms with himself, and has a most extravagant idea of his own importance, you need not expect to receive very courteous or respectful treatment from him. It can scarcely have escaped the notice of the least observing, that the artificial manners current in society are constructed in deference to the sentiment of humility. "The tendency of pride," says one of the greatest and best of men, "to produce strife and hatred, is sufficiently apparent from the pains men have been at to construct a system of politeness, which is nothing more than a sort of mimic humility, in which the sentiments of an offensive self-estimation are so far disguised and suppressed as to make them compatible with the spirit of society; such a mode of behavior as would naturally result from an attention to the apostolic injunction, Let nothing be done through strife or vain glory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves."" And if even the hollow forms of this virtue be so important that we can not dispense with them, how much more valuable must the reality be; if the painting be both useful and pleasing, how excellent and charming the original! Humility, then, it should be kept in mind, is essential to genuine courtesy. The really humble individual will not usurp a place to which he has no claim. He will be content with his own share, or rather less, in conversation. Even when conscious of being in the right, he will not express his convictions in that rude and boisterous tone, which creates disgust both at the speaker and what he says; he will not state his views as if they were so many self-evident axioms, reminding wise and are the people, and wisdom shall die with you." He will beware of exalting himself above others; of hinting even indirectly their inferiority to him. He will not take the faults and misfortunes of oth tice which, though common, is mean and despicable. It is easy to see how an humble opinion of one's self will thus promote genuine politeness. Affectionateness is another of its essential prerequisites. To be pleasingly well-bred, we must have a regard for those with whom we mingle; for its absence no artificial deference will compensate. The great desire of every person when he goes into society, should be to contribute as largely as possible to the general fund of happiness-to impart as well as receive pleasure. Good will toward all with whom we feel it right to associate, must shine through the countenance, flow from the tongue, be conveyed in the cordial grasp of the hand: and in a thousand ways, easier felt than described, be made apparent. Why should we blush to confess that we have a kindly feeling toward our fellow-creatures? Why seek to hide the sympathies that are so honorable to us? Why not circulate as widely as we can, those feelings of brotherhood which are of such advantage to our race? There are some, indeed, who have so degraded themselves that they may be thought hardly entitled to affection. But even when called to mix with such persons, we should remember that kindness has a killing power, and that the best way to make a man respect himself, is to show that others still would fain respect him, would he but act so as to enable them to do so. Affectionateness is indispensable to that kind of politeness which a man with a heart relishes. There is no mistaking cold artificial manners for the genuine courtesy of the heart. Persons with the gloomy and scowling look-the harsh, querulous, and domineering tone-on whose brows you can trace the clouds of the quarrel that was just hushed up as you crossed their threshold, never can be courteous in the best sense of that term. There is no good society, no circle worth spending an hour in, where love is not a guest. Her pres-im, "Do unto others as you would have ence is indispensable to the "feast of others do unto you." reason and the flow of soul." A prying and inquisitive disposition, too, is incompatible with true politeness. Impertinent curiosity is one of the chief banes of social intercourse. It is easy to see how it becomes so. You put a question respecting circumstances which you have no right to know anything about, and which common sense might tell you the party you interrogate is not willing to disclose. The latter must either equivocate, or directly falsify, or, much to the annoyance of his own feelings, state distinctly that the question is one you have no right to put, and which, therefore, he does not mean to answer. So that if to preserve tranquillity of mind, to impart as well as to receive pleasure, be the object of good manners, every Paul Pry in the social circle must be a very offensive person indeed. We should keep a "sharp look out" on those whose conversation is chiefly in the question form. A scrupulous and delicate regard to the feelings of others, is also an essential ingredient in the character of a well-bred person. The most guarded, indeed, may occasionally trespass through ignorance or inattention, but they who do so designedly, violate the first law of correct manners, which is to make all around us feel as easy and cheerful as possible. There are some persons so sensitive and touchy on almost every topic, whose sensitiveness, too, arises from their overweening self-conceit, that one can scarcely be expected so to shape his speech as not to give them offence; while there are those who have so little regard for the feelings of others, that we almost feel it a duty, when an opportunity occurs, to lend them a pretty hard blow in return. We quite agree with the sentiment of one of the greatest of moralists-" They who can not take a jest, ought not to make one." These exceptions apart, however, there is such a thing as wantonly tampering with the feelings of those with whom we mingle, which is one of the grossest outrages upon good breeding. If the gentle Cowper was right when he said that he would not enter upon the list of his friends, the man who would heedlessly set foot upon a worm, what are we to say of those who intentionally would crush or wound that sensitive, and sprightly, and loving thing, the human heart? They should be sent to herd alone. They are the kind of natures whom one would be glad to see betake themselves to the cloister or the cave; they are among the nuisances of the social circle, the banes of domestic life. Higher motives apart, self-love should prevent such conduct. Who is altogether invulnerable? Is not that individual singularly fortunate the rare exception-who has nothing in his personal appearance, habits, profession, past history, present condition, family connexions, and the like, fitted, when an uncourteous and unfeeling allusion is made to it, to stir a sigh, or kindle a blush? And every man is aware THE moment of parting is the first mowhen such allusions in his own case would ment that we feel how dear we are to each be felt cruel, and he should not forget to other. The reserves of the heart are broact toward his neighbor on the golden max-ken, and the moved spirit speaks as it feels. True courtesy has other elements on which we do not enlarge at present. There is, for example, purity of conversation-that purity which teaches us to shun not merely open obscenity, but which is often as dangerous-covert insinuation. Then there is the propriety of feeling as much at ease as may be consistent with due respect to others. Ease," Lord Chesterfield says, "is the standard of politeness." We must be courteous to those beneath our own roof, would we practise this virtue with grace in society. We may rest assured that politeness is a grace of no mean order. Some may affect to contemn it: it says the less for their sense, their taste, their virtue. That man has need of far more merit than falls to the share of ordinary mortals, who dares to act in contravention of the established forms and usages of society; and even the most accomplished in mind will be all the better that they be accomplished in manners too. It is a vulgar error that a man will scarcely be a genius and at the same time a gentleman. REAL GREATNESS.-THE BRIGHT SIDE OF HUMANITY. REAL GREATNESS. H E who possesses the divine powers of the soul, is a great being, be his place where it may. You may clothe him with rags, chain him to slavish tasks -but he is still great. You may shut him out of your houses, but God opens to him heavenly mansions. He makes no show indeed in the streets of a splendid city, but a clear thought, a pure affection, a resolute act of a virtuous life, will have a dignity of quite another kind and far higher, than accumulation of brick and granite, of plaster and stucco, however, cunningly put together, or though stretching far beyond our sight.-Nor is this all. Real greatness has nothing to do with a man's sphere. It does not lie in the magnitude of his own outward agency, in the extent of the effects which it produces. Perhaps the greatest men in our city, at this moment, are buried in obscurity. Grandeur of character is wholly in the force of thought, moral principle and love, and this may be found in the humblest condition of life. A man brought up to an obscure trade, and hemmed in by the wants of a growing family, may in this narrow sphere, perceive more clearly, discriminate more keenly, seize on the right means more decisively, and have more presence of mind in difficulty, than another who has accumulated vast stores of knowledge by laborious study, and he has more of intellectual greatness. Many a man who has gone but a few miles from home, understands human nature better, detects motives, and weighs character more sagaciously, than another who has traveled over the known world, and makes a name by his reports of different countries. It is the force of thought which measures intellectual, and so it is the force of principle that measures moral greatness, that highest of human endowments, that brightest manifesto of the divinity. The greatest man is he who chooses the right with invincible resolution, who resists the sore temptations from within and without, who 447 bears the most heavy burden, cheerfully, who is calmest in storms and most fearless under menace and frowns, whose reliance on truth, on virtue, on God, is most unfaltering-and is this a greatness which is apt to make a show, or which is more likely to abound in conspicuous stations? THE BRIGHT SIDE OF HUMANITY. THERE are good men everywhere. There are men who are good for goodness' sake. In obscurity, in retirement, beneath the shadow of ten thousand dwellings, scarcely known to the world, and never asked to be known, there are good. men; in adversity, in poverty, and temptations, amid all the severity of earthly trials, there are good men, whose lives shed brightness upon the dark clouds that surround them. Be it true, if we must admit the sad truth, that many are wrong, and persist in being wrong; that many are false to every holy trust, and faithless toward every holy affection; that many are coldly selfish, and meanly sensual; yes, cold and dead to everything that is not wrapped up in their own little earthly interest, or more darkly wrapped up in the veil of fleshy appetites. Be it so: this is not all that we are obliged to believe. No: there are true hearts amid the throng of the false and the faithless. There are warm and generous hearts, which the cold atmosphere of surrounding selfishness never chills; and eyes unused to weep for personal sorrow, which often overflow with sympathy for the sorrows of others. Yes, there are good men and true men. God from on high doth bless them, and giveth his angels charge to keep them; and nowhere in the holy record are these words more precious or strong, than those in which it is written that God loveth the righteous ones. Such men are there. Let not their precious virtues be distrusted. As surely and as evidently as some men have obeyed the calls of ambition and pleasure, so surely and so evidently have other men obeyed the voice of conscience, and "chosen rather to suffer with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasure of sin for a season." Why, |