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cessful endeavor to promote our physical and moral happiness by the use of the gift. As in ancient philosophy yvwo sεavrov was the key to perfection, so in modern physics the brightest gem of the diadem of knowledge will be in the KNOWLEDGE OF OURSELVES.

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And what are days, that I should now deplore?
A sun, a sun - an hour, another hour:

The coming, like the one that has ta'en flight-
This sweeps away what on the other came;
Labor repose and sorrow-oft a dream

Such is the day, then comes the night.

Oh! bid whose hands around the wreck of years
Toy-like, all eager cling - bid him shed tears,

Whose hope's consum'd by the first gaze of Death;
But I who've not been rooted in this clay-

All unresisting, I am swept away,

Like the light leaf by Evening's breath.

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*We read of a Leyden professor discoursing on the management and cure of the disorders of the mind by application of remedies to the body.' In a few years the subject may not seem quite so German as it now appears.

Of several popular fragments from LAMARTINE, which have appeared under an English garb in some of the higher periodicals of the United States, few are so eminently poetical as Le Poete Mourant.' In presenting the above translation, which has been lying by the writer for three years past, he is actuated by the desire of communicating to others a little portion of that inexpressible delight which he has experienced in perusing the inspired melodies of one who may justly be pronounced the greatest lyrist of the age.

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SOUCHONG, SLANG-WHANG, AND BOHEA:

OR THE THREE EDITORS OF CHINA.

BY THE AUTHOR OF NORMAN LESLIE.'

SOUCHONG, Bohea, and Slang-Whang, three intelligent brothers, of Pekin, having travelled about the world for some years, and seen all that was worth seeing, from the Doric columns of resuscitated Pompeii, and the glittering Boulevards of Paris, to the City Hall and Scudder's Museum, in the great town of Manahatta, returned to their native capital, with a resolution to reform their countrymen. Souchong devoted himself to the introduction of Wellington boots; Bohea undertook to do away with the queue; and Slang-Whang determined to make his fellow-subjects, male and female, discard tea, and take to drinking confutzku, which is the Chinese for brandy. But it was easier to talk of these innovations than to effect them. Souchong, with his Wellington boots, was shunned by sober people, and Bohea was regarded as a mere visionary, a believer in impossibilities; a person, as the older Pekinites would say, with their fore-fingers on their foreheads, rather unfurnished in the upper story.' Slang-Whang, to be sure, made some progress with his confutzku, but the affairs of the tourists were at a low ebb, when Slang-Whang (who had been slily imbibing a quantity of his new beverage with an old musty Tartar,) suddenly declared his intention of starting a new weekly periodical !'

Souchong and Bohea were both in raptures, and the old Tartar, when they had explained to him what a grand thing a weekly periodical was, stroked his beard, and took another pull at the confutzku, which he afterward observed was always his way, when he was pleased.

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The Pekin Pagoda' took wonderfully. The Chinese girls vowed it was the most amusing thing possible. The whole town was in commotion, and the very street patroles sometimes dropped the whips with which they were wont to castigate all unruly subjects who disturbed the peace of the emperor, to read the Pagoda,' and to talk of Souchong, Bohea, and Slang-Whang. They were the merriest set of fellows living, and such impudent varlets! They attacked the queues unmercifully, and sang aloud the praises of Wellington boots, while glittering tales were written to show the pleasant qualities of confutzku, which was pronounced the most excellent refreshment in the world, and a cure for all diseases.'

Bohea, Souchong, and Slang-Whang had each a bosom friend. Bohea was devoted to Fo-ko; Souchong was a very brother to So-ko, and Slang-Whang was never seen but his beloved Chin-Chin was sure to be discovered a moment after. Fo-ko, So-ko, and Chin-Chin were three excellent fellows. They were, moreover, as rich as they were good, and had helped our travelers through some of their roughest periods of distress. Indeed the three editors were in other respects particularly indebted to them. Fo-ko had rescued Bohea one day from the grasp of a crazy Tartar; Chin-Chin had one night drawn SlangWhang out of the imperial canal, after a somewhat free indulgence in his favorite confutzku, and Souchong was, (if the truth must out,) somewhat interested in So-ko's three sisters. As the travelers grew

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more prosperous, their love for their three friends increased. The Pagoda' had gone on with wonderful success; so much so, indeed, that a knot of fellows in Nankin had started one precisely similar in all respects, except, as the Pekinites swore, it was not half so good. The Nankin people called their periodical 'The Great Wall.' With such a formidable rival in the field, it behooved the 'Pagoda' to come out strong, and take the lead in point of merit, as they had done in time. We must not lie on our oars,' said Souchong.

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'We must pull harder than ever,' added Bohea.

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We must play the very old Harry with them,' exclaimed SlangWhang, putting down a pitcher of confutzku, and smacking his lips. We must buy new type,' observed Souchong.

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We must procure better articles,' remarked Bohea.

We must have nothing in that is not first rate. Try the confutzku!' cried Slang-Whang.

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Whatever comes of it, we are the leaders of Chinese periodical literature,' resumed Souchong, holding out his Wellington boot.

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The Great Wall' watches us like a lynx,' added Bohea.

'No matter,' rejoined Slang-Whang, 'the Pekin Pagoda is no chicken. It will last seventy thousand years if it does one.'

'I will never leave it till it has at least twenty-eight millions of subscribers,' added Bohea.

'But we must strain every nerve, watch every line, and make it perfection more than perfection,' cried Souchong.

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Certainly!' said Bohea.

Certainly!' echoed Slang-Whang.

'SLANG-WHANG,' said Chin-Chin one day, 'I have a favor to ask of you.'

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My dearest Chin-Chin,' replied Slang-Whang, 'you make me too happy. There is nothing on earth that I would not do for you.'

I knew, my beloved Slang-Whang, that you were the most amiable person in the world.'

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You flatter me, Chin-Chin. But positively to you I shall refuse nothing. What is it you request?'

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ing, and looking down, I am almost ashamed to tell you.'

Friend of my heart, you alarm me! Pray end this suspense; it is really painful.'

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'I have turned-author! There, now the secret is out.' 'Author, Chin-Chin?-what you? Well, upon my word! you are the last man I should have suspected of such a flight. Well done! author, eh ?'

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'Yes. I am fairly embarked.'

Well, what is it you have been composing? - a book? and you wish me to puff it? I can do it for you to a hair: I learned the art in my travels.' 'No, Slang-Whang, I have not got so desperate yet as to venture a book.'

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