MR. EDITOR,

I.AM

AM a quiet man; I may say, a very quiet man. Rarely, indeed, is my equanimity of temper disturbed; and, though the experiment has never been made, I feel an inward assurance that I could go through--even a steamboat explosion-coolly, calmly, and collectedly, instead of scatteraceously, as do some of a less quiet turn, and who are always found, at the time of such accidents, in the vicinity of the boiler, or other equally dangerous locality. I am satisfied that the papers, of the day after the disaster, would have my name in the list of those gentlemen who "behaved with great gallantry on the occasion;" or among those whose "admirable presence of mind and cool intrepidity enabled them to be of invaluable service to the ladies on the boat, many of whom were on deck at the moment of the shocking catastrophe." So, at least, I am sure it would be, did not my peculiar infirmity-of which you will presently know more-intervene to foil me. I am known sir, in my neighborhood, 'THE QUIET MAN," and when I inform you that I live in the same vicinity with three old maids, a chatty young widow, and a number of gossiping misses, you may possibly appreciate the intensity of that placidity which has acquired, and still maintains for me, a reputation so enviable under these highly adverse circumstances. I have been known, when an awkward lout of a boy had well-nigh eradicated the corn upon my gouty toe, by crushing it with his bootheel, to turn to his mamma, who sat near, and, smiling sweetly, assure her in the blandest manner that, "it was of no consequence at all-made not the

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slightest difference." I have been bled by a mosquito for half an hour, without wincing; and, when he had become so dropsical with the red current of my life, that he could no longer fly, I have been known to capture and slay him without one word of reproach, or the slightest malevolence of countenance. When the seediness of my coat and the shocking badness of my hat have procured for me the cut direct from old friends and fashionable acquaintances, I have calmly buttoned the one, and jauntily adjusting the other, walked forwards as imperturbably as if nothing whatever had occurred-just as the moon continued shining and held the even tenor of her way, despite the angry barkings of a diminutive cur which had imbibed the notion she had no business to shine. Aye, and I have been known-but sir, I will enumerate no further, lest the countless instances I could quote of my invincible quietude, should keep me too long away from the main subject of this letter.

I repeat it, then, I am a very quiet man-a mild, tranquil, unruffled, bland, placid man; and by some have even been thought phlegmatic.

But I am also, in some respects, a nervous man. I belong to that unfortunate class of persons whose acoustic ducts were too finely fashioned by nature in the beginning; over the drums of whose ears the parchment is either too thin, or too tightly drawn; and I am consequently the recipient of pains through that channel, which seem wellnigh incredible to those of less sensitive tympana-pains as real and racking, as tangible and torturous, as are kicks, cuffs, and stripes, to others of my fellow

creatures. So subtle, refined, and exquisitely delicate is my sense of hearing, I have often wished, that like the people of the moon, I had been created earless.

The faintest echo from the tongue of a termagant, or a scold, causes me incontinently to betake myself to my heels; nor is it of any avail that I summon my resolution to aid me. Socrates philosophized, when Xantipper ranted and raved: but I consider flight a better thing than philosophy, when woman gives her tongue its will. Some of your street cries, in linked vociferation long drawn out, affect me sensibly. A feline concert from an adjacent roof, ends my repose for the night; while the cries of a cross child or a spoiled baby, induce in me certain snappish and pugnacious tendencies which might suggest to a timid mother the propriety of binding me, in a suitable sum, to keep the peace-first broken, be it observed, by their own darlings. "Can you pay this little bill, to-day, sir?" especially if I cannot-and I never can, till "tomorrow," or "the latter part of next week"-renders me a promising candidate for some friendly asylum. The tickings of a death-watch in the wall cause me to turn restlessly in bed; and the shrill pipings of a mosquito, or the buzz of a bee near my ear, are more dreaded than the concealed weapons they carry, in defiance of the statute made and provided. I am not a quiet man during the performances of an earthquake; am nervous on gunpowder days, such as national anniversaries; do not blame a dog for leaving the neighborhood of exploding fire-crackers; and am provokingly restless under the influences of opera music in churches. My teeth are set on edge by the scraping of a reed; and the mere thought, even in midsummer, of craunching a canethus converting the teeth into an amateur sugar mill-begets in me a chilliness which would be refreshing (in the dogdays) were it not also freezing; even a creaking hinge causes me to fly, with creeping cuticle, after the oil-can; and, though I have not tried it, I cannot doubt that the report of my adversary's pistol, in an affair of honor so miscalled, would cause me great trepidation, and force me to minute self-examination— searching and thorough as if occasioned by the monitions of that still, small voice, ever heard when least desired, but which I dare not disregard.

These sounds, however, are trifles compared with another assault upon my ear, frequently made, and so very frequenty of late, I have been driven to this letter with a hope of relief. I allude, sir,— laugh if you will-to AN OATH-A CURSE. This it is, which shocks and shatters the whole web-work of my nerves-goes tingling and ripping through my cellular tissue causes me involuntarily to wink as it flies past me; and grates and jangles upon my ear as if it would shiver the very skull itself. One of your big, black oaths, as it hums and hurtles and whizzes through the air, seems literally to cleave me through. I say seems, but the word is quite strong enough, for I have never learned the difference between verisimile and esse. We are happy or miserable as, to ourselves, we seem thus or so-not as we are. At times, I have believed myself riddled under a shower of oaths; and, as I know from actual experience how a man feels when he is shot, I have no hesitation in saying, that aside from the fatality sometimes resulting from lead, there is little choice between a ball, shot from some black-mouthed fire-arm, and an oath fired from the foul muzzle of a hard-swearer. Of course, I speak only for myself, and for others having a like sensitiveness of ear.

I am fully aware of the eccentricity of these notions. My prejudices may be, doubtless they are, very singular and very antiquated: but, sir, I cannot help cherishing them. I am cognizant of the fact, that the world holds an oath in high esteem; but upon this point the world and I can never agree, though I do not undertake to say which party is in the right. I know that boys consider an oath a matter of much moment, and a proof of manliness-(rather mannishness); that dandies and "bloods" use it as an elegant ornament of speech, and can scarce do without it, it being an excellent substitute for thoughts and ideas, and for giving weight and "expression" to the same; that sea-captains use it as part of their discipline, to ensure prompt obedience to orders, and generals, as an accessory to victory; nor does it surprise me, a member, by-theby, of the Peace Society, that oaths, imprecations and curses should form a fit accompaniment to the wholesale murder which men call war. Rich old 'gents" use it as their prerogative— fools, from a want of sense-and sailors, as a luxury. I have understood that

oaths and curses form the popular vernacular of hell; and know that Lord Byron considered swearing a heavenly invention, professing to believe it divine in its origin. Many other great poets, too, and orators, and statesmen, have indulged slily in the luxury of oaths; though, for what reason I know not, they have seen fit to make small use of them in their songs, speeches, and State-papers. A celebrated queen, now dead, swore with great piquancy; and it is said, though I will not vouch for it, that a queen, now living, sometimes inserts an oath between a sip of her brandy-and-water and the whiffs of her cigarrette. That some women do swear, however, is an incontestible factfemales known to the world as 66 men," and females recognized as "ladies;" if no instance of the kind is known to you, Mr. Editor, I sincerely trust you may continue in this truly blissful ignorance, for an oath from female lips, fairly curdles the blood! May I never hear a second one!

WO

Oaths pass sometimes for wit, sometimes for humor, and often for bravery; are daily heard in the streets of towns and cities, and frequently in private and gentlemanly circles; they abound in bar and billiard rooms, in brothels and bowling-alleys; are heard in hotels and stables; have been whispered in parlors, and even echoed through the halls of Congress. Yet, sir, in the teeth of all this authority and precedent, I am compelled to say that I do not admire an oath; and that I detest swearing.

Though I do not now allude to the oath taken in courts of justice, at inaugurations, and coroners' inquests, I am prepared to attack even this species of swearing, if any can be found to defend it. Any man may dodge "the book," and affirm instead of swear, if he will but pretend to a little scrupulosity of conscience, and profess to have no stomach for a regular oath; and I have often laughed, in my sleeve and out of it, at the grave judges and shrewd lawyers who are quite willing to take a man's word for the stringency of his religious views, yet make him approximate as near as possible to swearing, to restrain him from lying about other matters. Oaths, moreover, are but poor sureties for veracity. Men have been known to lie on the gallows, under torture, in the very jaws of death, on the last confines of Time, and the threshold of Eternity;

and it is a good, general rule, that he who regards not his word and sacred honor, will not regard his oath, WHEN THE PINCH COMES-the very moment when the value of an oath becomes most apparent; for lying and "false-witness are absolute luxuries to no man, and seldom resorted to except in the extremest emergency. Lastly and chiefly: we are expressly commanded, in the best of books, to "swear not at all," and though some commentators have argued that the prohibition applies to our 66 conversation only," which word occurs in the same verse with the above, I believe it would be difficult to show that conversation is there used in our sense of the word.

My dislike to oaths embraces the whole calendar; I fancy none of them. The smoothly running oath of the Latins, the majestic oath of the Greeks, the ambiguous oath of Spain, the soft, musical oath of Italy, the thunderous oath of Germany, the crisp, crackling, trolling oath of France, are all alike to me-all on a par with the big, burly oath of the English. Nor would I care if I never heard any one of them again. For a beggarly dinner, I would dispose of my sole right and title to the privilege, and even pay a handsome premium to any company that would insure my ears forever against such assaults.

But, sir, between the eccentricity of these views, and my awkward manner of expressing them, I fear that I weary you. Bear with me, I beg; for, though my hand is all unused to the pen, I feel it my duty for once to write, and let the pen have its way.

I am fond of metaphysics, and have been somewhat given to their study; but I have not been able to discover what peculiar cast or quality of mind it is, that leads men to swear. Phrenologists pretend that the bump of veneration is either wholly wanting in the crania of swearers, or is else so small, it cannot be rightfully considered a phrenological tumulus. My observation, however, has taught me not to place phrenology among the positive sciences; like many delicate, attenuate, and beautiful theories, that science can be turned to little practical account; and, in this especial particular of swearing, to NO account. I have found mountains of veneration on the heads of the hardest swearers and mole-hills of reverence overtopping mouths that were never defiled with an oath-facts which admonish

me not to look to craniology for an explanation.

Gen. Paoli was of opinion that all barbarous nations swore from a certain violence of temper that could not be confined to earth, but was always reaching to the powers above. I consider this, however, an egregious error. The American aborigines were certainly barbarous enough when Columbus landed among them; and, though they possessed great violence of temper-a spirit which has never been tamed-they did not swear at all. It was not until the Pale Face taught him how, that the Red Man blaspheined. Indeed, it is among the barbarous races that we are to look, for awe, veneration and fear of God. Compare the white man's reverence for bis God, with the Indian's for his Great Spirit, remembering the enlightenment of the one, the ignorance of the other; the former shrinks abashed from the comparison.

Again: it is in great cities, in towns, and civilized countries that swearing flourishes most vigorously. Paoli himself, went on to say, "that as is the variety of religious ceremonies, so is the variety of swearing." Wherever you find refinement, luxury, ease, affluence, and high civilization-in whatever countries these exist, there also will you find oaths in great abundance and variety.

Swearing originated in high life. Hence the proverb that it "came in at the head and went out at the tail,"meaning thereby, that the nobility and gentry were the first to adopt it, and that it was afterwards confined to the plebeians. However true this may have been when the proverb was penned, it no longer holds good. Swearing has not "gone out," either at head or tail, or else it has been revived; for we find the practice on every hand and amongst all classes. Like everything else, the custom seems to have had its series of rises, progressions, and declines. Under the first Charles of England (1635), it was a finable offence to swear; offices were established in every parish for the collection of the fines; and the funds thus accruing were paid over to the bishops for the relief of the poor. Thirty years after, under Charles II, there arose an aristocracy of oaths, the gentry having their curses, and the plebeians theirs: and to such height was the distinction carried, Keith relates that the nobility greatly exceeded the commons in their terrific maledictions, which were called "gentleman-oaths."

The result of much meditation and inquiry was the conclusion that swearing does not come of any special character of mind, but is rather the offspring of fashion, circumstance, and custom. A habit, that like one's coat may be put on or off, at will. In support of this view I gathered the following facts:

I once lived in a family, the head of which was an inveterate swearer. He was a stern man, and passionate: the slightest annoyance, the vaguest hint of trouble or perplexity, the least ripple in the stream of his existence, was sufficient to rouse his ire. Then, how the curses flocked to his lips, and were scattered broadcast around him! He had many sons, and though he never scrupled to swear before them, so positive were his commands to them not to imitate his example, and so sure the dread penalty that would have followed their disobedience, not one of them ever uttered an oath in my presence. Now, the inherent qualities of the mind will assert themselves they will put forth bud and opening blossom, though circumstance, poverty or neglect may cut off the fruit. Had these boys had any native, mental proclivity towards swearing, the father's commands would have acted as but a partial restraint upon their tongues. My presence was, certainly, no check, for, like themselves, I was but a boy; and, moreover, no "blab," as they all knew.

Again: the hardest swearer will remain for hours, and even days, in the society of ladies, or in company with a parson, without uttering an oath, or an approach to one. A sailor never d-ns the eyes of his captain; a trooper will not swear in presence of his commanding officer; nor will an urchin in earshot of his father; even Byron, though he thought swearing a heavenly invention, seldom cursed in print.

I had begun to flatter myself that the position just mentioned-that swearing is merely a habit-was impregnable. But my yiews have been well-nigh upset by the terrific oaths daily thundered forth from a CHURCH-STEEPLE now going up near my residence, causing great consternation and disquietude in the neighborhood, and not only impinging with dire effect upon my own nerves, but those also of all around. If men can ride an hundred miles with priest and parson without an oath, why can they not refrain from it on a church-steeple? If the parlor be too sacred a place to

swear in, why, I asked myself, is not a church cupola equally sacred? That it is not so considered, is plain. What, then, becomes of my position? You may well conceive the discomfiture which my falling argument gave me. But nous verrons.

I have paid some attention to Architecture; looked a little into Model Cottages, and can prate right fluently and prettily about the Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite orders-ancient and modern Doric-the Tuscan order, now extinct; the Egyptian and the Roman styles. I have at hand, a store of ecclesiastic-architectural pedantry, well spiced with such words as:-transepts, almeries, lavatories, oratories, almonries, roods, jubes, misereres, aspersoria, naves, baptistries, pixes, crypts, auditoria, cloisters, chantries, benetiers, tabernacles, weepers, etc., to say nothing of a host of merely secular technicalities. I am, also, author of an essay, written to prove the superiority of the Jeffersonian capital, composed of the leaf and flower of the tobacco-plant, and surmounting a shaft of Indian corn, over the Greek Corinthian, of acanthus leaves, perched on a fluted column, and emblematic of nothing; also to show that Thomas Jefferson was a greater man, though no sculptor, than Callicrates, author of the Corinthian capital; that his conception was the happier of the two; and that we, Americans, are fools, fogies, and toadies, in not adopting the Jeffersonian idea, and running off after Grecian gods, when we have in our own land the elements of architectural orders, quite as beautiful, more chaste, and infinitely more symbolic, than anything to be found either at Athens or Rome. From some inexplicable cause, the essay attracted no attention, and is now out of print.

Yet, much as I have dabbled in architecture, I have nowhere seen it stated that oaths are essentially necessary in the construction of steeples, churches, or other sacred edifices. Their perpetual recurrence, however, falling at the rate of about sixty per hour from the aforesaid steeple, would indicate that I am at fault; and, though no writer on architecture has yet mentioned it, you may record it as a fact, that curses are as necessary to masonry and wood-work, as are bricks, mortar, and boards. The steeple to which I allude has now attained a height of some sixty feet, including the church at its base; and the

vane above the spire is to be 150 feet from the ground.~ I do not think it any exaggeration to say, that about 1,000 oaths, not reckoning the little fellows, have been consumed in getting the steeple to its present height.

THIS SETS ME THINKING!

What a vast amount of imprecation must have been required for rearing the turrets and towers, the steeples and spires, the monuments, columns, obelisks, and domes of the world! There is the Escurial, at Madrid, whose highest point is 200 feet from the earth; Notre Dame, at Paris, 204 feet; the Porch only of Solomon's Temple, 210 feet (I can never believe that oaths were used on that work); the Wellington Obelisk, at Dublin, also 210 feet high; Porcelain Tower, at Nankin, 228; Seville Tower, in Spain, 250; Milan Cathedral, and Castellan Tower, at Valencia, each 280; the minarets on the Mosque of St. Sophia, at Constantinople, 290 feet; St. Ivan's Tower, Moscow, and Lincoln Spire, England, each 300 feet; Trinity Spire, and St. Michael's Tower, Coventry, the former of which is 300 feet high, and overlooked by the latter, which boasts its yard more of altitude; St. Paul's, and the Dome of Milan, each 370; the Walls of Babylon, 350; the end Wall of Herod's Temple, 360; Dome of the Florence Cathedral, 380; Tower of Utrecht, 464, and of Strasburgh, 474; the ancient tower of Balbec, in Syria, 500, and St. Peter's, at Rome, 518 feet high!

What awful maledictions must have accompanied these structures, while on their way to greet the earliest glories of the rising sun! And we have not yet mounted the Egyptian Pyramids, the highest of which rears its head to the proud height of 520 feet. What shuddering imprecations frightened the hyena and the jackal of the desert, when these vast piles of stone were heaping up, and up, almost to the clouds! Think too, of the Babylonian Belus, 666 feet high; and of presumptuous Babel, seeking for the sky, and only pausing when it had mounted to a height of 680 feet. What volleys of curses must have echoed through these stupendous fabrics ere they became wonderful! No wonder, that at Babel, there should have been confusion of tongues, amid such a din of oaths, as reverberated and resounded through its gigantic tube, from base to apex! And yet, sir, I have enumerated but a few of the architectural prodigies