ONE of the results of the newspaper-paragraph and magazine-writing mania, which characterizes the universal-diffusion-of-useful-knowledge-age in which we live, is, that a modest man can no longer remain in private life. It is a melancholy fact, that we the people of these - not alone, be it United States are all becoming public characters understood, in our sovereign capacity, as the rulers of the land, but in our several and individual condition as the people thereof. Every other man we meet is a pamphleteer, or a man of letters; and for the want of a better subject for the exercise of his pen, his retiring and quiet neighbor is dished up for the public palate. Things have, indeed, come to such a pass, that it is dangerous for an individual to step out of the beaten track of life, or lift his head above the common level of humanity. One cannot even eat potatoes with a knife, without attaining a painful and unenviable notoriety. We cannot act from impulse, or even perform a good action, if the thing is unusual, without the same provoking exposure.

A friend of mine, the other day, rescued a boy from drowning, and what was his reward? Why, they eulogized him in the penny papers, Unfortunate and wrote and published a doggrel poem to his praise!

and injured man! Little did he think, when he plunged in, and snatched the miniature edition of humanity from the water, and handed him to his mother, that he was doing an act which would place his name in the Transcript,' between a police report and a 'shocking occurrence;' that he would be immortalized by the Herald,' warmed in the Sun,' reflected in the Mirror,' and that The Star,' with its pale and silver rays, would shed a glorious lustre around his sweetlysounding cognomen of-Jonah Bangs!

I can remember the time when I was in a state of gentle agitation all day, from having seen my name in print among those of my fellowcitizens who had neglected to call at the post-office for their letters; but this morning, with the most perfect nonchalance, I read in one of the little diurnals, while I sipped my coffee, an invitation from my shoemaker, addressed to me, with my name and additions at full length, to the purport that he would be pleased to have me call and pay him seven shillings for soleing my boots. This I considered rather personal. Indeed, it seemed to me like an imputation upon my character, inasmuch as my neighbors might be induced, from a perusal of the missive, to believe that I did not pay my just debts. But public commendation A poor woman has been quite as annoying to me as public censure. sometime since presented me a begging petition, when I was particularly engaged. Not having time to read it, and wishing to get rid of her, I What was handed her a quarter of a dollar, and told her to be gone. my surprise, a few days afterward, on picking up a penny paper, to find the following article:

'LIBERAL.-We understand that the unfortunate Mrs. C-, of Orange county, who has been reduced to a state of extreme pecuniary distress, in consequence of the

VOL. VII.

death of her churning-dog, from a fractured limb, has been enabled, by the kind liberality of our citizens, to purchase another dog, and resume her business. This happy result has been mainly brought about by the active charity and humane exertions of Esq., one of our most liberal and enlightened citizens.'

IT was on the morning of one of the coldest days of the late cold winter, that I'fixed' myself in the ninth and last seat of the sleigh bound to the capital of the Empire State.' As the vehicle moved away from the stage-office, I proceeded, as is my custom on entering a new society, to scrutinize my fellow-passengers, and to form some estimate of their characters and quality.

The first person who attracted my attention was an auctioneer, who I soon learned was going up to see the governor, and get his commission renewed. His was a familiar face, and a well-known voice. Hundreds and hundreds of times, during my hurried walks down Broadway, have I heard the latter, at first faintly in the distance, and then increasing in sound, and volume, and strength, as I approached his little shop, until at length, as I reached it, the loud and discordant peal would almost split my ears; and then again as I hastened on, it would die away, gradually growing softer and fainter, until it became lost in the other street sounds. He was somewhat of a character, and in his way had made much noise in the world; but like a church-bell calling the ungodly to prayers, his was often 'sound and fury, signifying nothing,' and producing nothing. Often when I have heard his voice in the distance, have I been surprised at the energy with which he appeared to 'cry,' and thought to myself, must be doing a great business to-day.' As I approached so as to distinguish words, I could hear him rattle off: 'Going-going-thirty-nine dollars bid; just a-going for thirty-nine, forty-forty-forty dollars bid-just a going for forty dollars; last call, gentlemen- last call! Once - twice- gone! Whack, whack! would go his hammer, and as I reached his door, expecting to see it crowded with eager purchasers, I would find him all alone, engaged in what he called crying together an audience.'

It was rather dangerous opening one's mouth in his shop, for at the least movement of the lips, he would be sure to strike off something; and no matter what sum was bid, the poor buyer would invariably get 'a hard bargain.'

·

I remember having once paused at his store, just as he had produced to the eyes of his admiring auditory a mahogany work-box, about six inches square. Here, gentlemen,' he exclaimed, is a lot of goods, consisting of the personal ornaments of a gentleman and lady who, having been lately reduced from the greatest opulence to extreme poverty, have been obliged to pledge them for the trifling sum of one hundred and sixty dollars. Here, holding up a paper, is the invoice.' After this peroration, he proceeded to open the box. The first article he displayed, was what appeared to be a splendid gold watch and chain; next followed an elegant opera-glass, then two pair of ear-rings, three breastpins, seven finger-rings, of various descriptions, a gold pencil-case, two silk purses, a silver cigar-tube and tooth-pick, and other smaller matters, as the auctioneer himself expressed it, 'too numerous to mention.' Now, gentlemen,' said he, the one that speaks first, shall have the set for a hundred and seventy-five dollars.' All were silent. 'Who'll give a hun

1836.]

Odds and Ends.

-a hundred and ten

-

dred and seventy? What! none? A hundred and sixty-five, then; will Take them, then, for what they none give a hundred and sixty-five? were pledged.' No one seemed disposed to avail himself of this privilege. Will none give a hundred and sixty?' asked the auctioneer, with a look of extreme astonishment. Well, then, a hundred and fifty-five-a huna hundred dred and fifty- a hundred and forty-a hundred and thirtya hundred-ninety' In this manner and twenty he went down, diminishing the sum by ten dollars, at every call, until it was reduced as low as thirty dollars. At this moment, I opened my mouth to say to a gentleman who stood near me that I thought the things No sooner did I stir my lips, could not be worth less than that sum. than the functionary exclaimed, Gone! Mr., thirty dollars!' I observed to him that I did not intend to bid upon the property, but that if he was disposed to relinquish me the articles for the sum named, I should not object. Oh,' was his reply, we always go upon honor, and The things were to be according to the strict rules of business, here. sold without reserve, and although we have disposed of them for a sum immensely below their value, yet as they were struck off to you, you I paid the thirty dollars, and placing the box, with its can take them.' contents, under my arm, took it home. How shall I describe my purchase? The watch which, in the masterly and quick-moving hands of the auctioneer, absolutely dazzled the spectator with its brilliancy, when I leisurely examined it, I found to be a newly-furbished pinch-beck with a chain to correspond.' The tortoise-shell sides of the opera glass, on closer scrutiny, changed to horn, the golden ornaments on it to brass, and the glasses in it had once formed part of the stock in trade of a glazier. Of the breast-pin and rings I need not speak; but, after remarking that they did not shame the company they were in, will leave them, with the other articles, for the imagination of my readers to 'body forth.'

BUT enough of the auctioneer. There were several other gentlemen in the sleigh, going up to attend to the renewal of their offices, who, as becomes office holders, were sleek, fat, comfortable, common-place men. Two others, lean, hungry-looking, close-mouthed, and cautious, who occupied the front seat, I took to be office-seekers. Then there was another man with little twinkling, fiery eyes, and a Roman nose, who abused the talked a great deal about the resources of the country,' was opposed to the widening of the Erie canal, canal commissioners but what, exactly, I could not make and in favor of something else. who I concluded was what they call in out from his conversationAlbany a lobby member.'

One poor fellow in the sleigh very soon arrested my attention, and excited my commisseration, by being without any over-coat. He was dressed in an old green surtout, thin vest, and thread-bare pantaloons. His hands were without gloves, and a little bundle, which he had with him, tied up in a faded cotton handkerchief, evidently contained the The man had what is called a whole of his travelling wardrobe. 'hard look,' and my first impression was, that he was a person of dissipated habits. This opinion, however, I soon changed, on learning that he had been riding in the cold on the two preceding days. He was quiet and modest in his deportment, rarely joining in the conversa

tion that was continued in the sleigh, except when personally addressed, and then speaking in a tone and manner of great humility. When we sat down to our warm and comfortable breakfast, I observed that he was not present, and when I remarked that I thought it singular he had not joined us, my friend the auctioneer observed, in a careless tone, that he supposed he could not afford to pay for the meal. As I returned to the bar-room of the tavern, to put on my over-coat and cloak, I saw the absentee hastily thrust the last of a crust of bread into his mouth, and turn his back to me while he swallowed it, and tied up the bundle from which it had been taken. My sympathy was deeply excited for him; and very soon after we had resumed our journey, I took occasion to complain of too great warmth, and throwing off my cloak, offered it to him. But he suspected my little artifice, and, with thanks, declined it, remarking that he was very comfortable. At dinner I was pained to observe that he was again absent from the table, and mentally determined, if I could accomplish it, to give him a meal. As soon as I had satisfied my appetite, I stepped to the bar, and handing the landlord a dollar, told him that half of it was to pay for my dinner, and the other for that of my friend. I then walked to where the poor fellow was warming himself, and told him, in a careless under-tone, that I had been obliged to pay the landlord double his charge for my dinner, in consequence of his being unable to make change, and that if he wished to do me a service, he would go and try to eat out the extra half dollar, for, I laughingly added, it went very much against my feelings to pay publicans even more than their exorbitant charges. With a look of eagerness that belied the indifferent smile he tried to assume, he replied, that although he had not much appetite, and did not intend to eat, he would, if I really wished it, try to take care of the remaining interest I had on the table. A few moments afterward, on gaining a glimpse of the dinner table, I saw him regaling himself on the ample cheer that still remained, with an eagerness and goût that amply repaid me for any qualms of conscience I might have felt on account of my false repre

sentations.

It is curious to remark the change which takes place in a stage coach at night fall. Men who have been sustaining a character, talking with caution, and setting bolt upright in their seats during the day, will, as the shades of evening gather around them, and fatigue and drowsiness relax their frames, slip down into their real and natural characters, and become talkative and amusing.

For my own part, I have a species of affection for the man against whose shoulder my own has been rubbed for twelve hours, and into whose side my elbows have been jammed times without number, without calling forth any expressions of impatience, but who, with exemplary forbearance, receives my repeated apologies with the same Oh, it's of no consequence.' If the man has any thing forbidding or repulsive in his countenance, the darkness hides it; and when I can only hear his gruff but good-natured voice, and laugh at his homely jests, I feel toward him like a brother: my own heart opens, my own character is developed, and we pass around the joke, the laugh, and the song, as if we had known one another for years.

This change of feeling was particularly manifest in our sleigh-load. The office-seeker began freely to hazard opinions on the condition of

1836.]

Odds and Ends.

parties, and the welfare of the state; the office-holders even expressed doubts about the soundness of a particular clause in the governor's message, while I, at length, oblivious as to the mahogany work-box, actually shook the auctioneer by the hand, at the conclusion of one of his happiest flights of wit, and soon afterward found myself joining in the chorus to one of his songs. My poor friend without an over-coat finally seemed roused from the contemplation of his poverty, by the good feeling which prevailed, and entered into conversation, in the course of which he informed me that he was on his way from Philadelphia to one of the cotton factories above the Highlands. He was a Scotchman by birth, and had recently emigrated to this country, in consequence of the difficulty he experienced in obtaining a subsistence in his own. He was a calico-printer by trade, and having learned that there was a prospect of obtaining employment up the river, he had left Philadelphia He had expended his last shilling in for the purpose of seeking it. New-York, to make out his stage fare, and his only chance of escape from actual want was in immediate employment. I was still engaged in conversation with my new friend, when the auctioneer, having just finished a story, called upon him for a song. As is usual on such occasions, the remainder of the party joined in the call. At first, he endeavoured to excuse himself, alleging his inability, from various causes, to comply with our request; but at length, after having been driven from one excuse to another, by our importunities, until they were all exhausted, he hesitatingly and doubtingly signified his intention to In his desire, however, to oblige us, he attempt to gratify our wishes. had overrated his power; for he had hardly proceeded beyond the first line of the song he selected, before his voice, at first low and tremulous from the combined effect of embarassment and cold, died entirely away. But I had heard enough to satisfy me that he could sing, and sing well, had he not been so chilled. Again I offered him my cloak, and after much difficulty, succeeded in inducing him to accept it. After he had been covered with it a sufficient length of time to feel its comfortable He answered that he warmth, I again called upon him for his song.

would attempt to sing one that he had learned from his mother, many years ago one that was now often in his thoughts, but, from the associations connected with it, rarely on his lips. The air and words of it, he added, came to him in his dreams of home, and in the visions of the past, which were often his only solace.

feeling

As his voice rose, soft and tremulous, with the opening line of one of those beautiful old Scotch ballads which have as yet escaped the sacrilegious researches of old song'-hunters, and modern musical innovations, I was fearful that he would again fail, and that we should be doomed to another disappointment: but as he proceeded, he gained power. His tones were still tremulous, but tremulous with feeling I hardly breathed as he went that accorded well with the air and story. Never did I hear words, tune, and voice, so admirably adapted to each other. The mournful tenor of the first, the simple sweetness of the second, the melting softness of the last, with the Scotch accent and deep emotion of the singer, were all in unison. As he continued, memories of his early and distant home appeared to crowd upon his mind; the voice of his mother rang in his ear; the face of his father was present to

on.