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of Naples--the gravity of Madrid, and the gaiety of Paris.

Two thousand years ago, the "eternal city" had her belles and beaux, her flirts and dandies (a Roman dandy!)—and two thousand years hence, or less time, will the cannibals of NewZealand have eschewed war dances and raw victuals, and have their blue-stocking tea-parties, biscuit and lemonade soirees, French cooks, and fashionable quadrilles, as well as anybody. All is still

“ The everlasting to be, that hath been;"

and the probability is, that the antediluvians wrote poetry, told lies, wore whiskers, and cheated their neighbors, just as we do now.

It is also pleasant, as well as curious and profitable, in roaming through a large city, to contrast its present with its former situation—to compare what it has been with what it is, and to speculate on what it may be. New-York, to be sure, is not rich in historical recollections, for she is comparatively a thing of yesterday. In walking her streets we do not feel as in the ancient capitals of Europe, that our footsteps, perchance, fall on the very places where those of the mighty dead have fallen before

In the older streets of London, we know that we are walking where Richard, Duke of Gloucester, “high-reaching Buckingham," or Harry Hotspur, actually walked, and that Shakspeare and Milton familiarly trod even where we then tread; or the High-street of Edinburgh-where the Leslie and the Seyton, the Gordon and the Douglass, were wont foolishly and gallantly to stab and dirk each other for the “crown o' the causeway." True, all is now common-place and familiar ; the merchant plods homeward with his umbrella under his arm, instead of bis rapier by his side. But great as the change is there from the past to the present, it has still been gradual. Step by step have they toiled their way from barbarism to civilization. Here, it has been as the shifting of the scenery in a play, rather than sober reality. It is but as the other day when the forest flourished where now chants most do congregate," and the streamlet murmured where the gin-shop stands. The council-fires blazed and the sachems spoke to their young men where now the honorable Richard Riker and the honorable the corporation hold " long talks" about small matters. The wigwam sent its tiny wreaths of smoke into the clear air, where now the bank coffee-house pours forth volumes of odoriferous steam to mingle with the masses of vapor


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that hang the city like a cloud ; and its tables groan with all the delicacies of the season” where the


deer from the wood and the fish from the stream, were cooked and eaten without the aid of pepper and salt--two of the greatest blessings of civilization.

And not more different than the scenes were the actors concerned in them. Step aside, good reader, and mark them as they now pass along Broadway. The first is one but little known to Indian lifeone who lives by the folly and roguery of the fools and rogues around him--a lawyer. He is clad in solemn black, as if that were ominous of the gloom which follows in his train. What would the Indian, with his untaught natural sense of right and wrong, think of this man’s “ quiddets, his quillets, his

cases, his tenures and his tricks ;" and of “ his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers and his recoveries ?" Alas! the poor Indian has but too deeply felt his power and the power

of his brethren in the modern black art." They conjured away his pleasant haunts “ under the greenwood tree," his silver streams teeming with life, his beautiful lakes and fair hunting grounds, all “ according to law," and left him a string of beads and a bottle of fire-water, a bruised heart and a broken spirit in their place. Here comes another product of the present times, neither rare nor valuable, indigenous to Broadway, and

flourishing there in peculiar rankness; a modern Sir Fopling Flutter, of whom it may well be said with the poet,

“ Nature disclaims the thing—a tailor made him !"

Mark with what affected effeminacy the full-grown baby lounges along, and the air of listless indifference or slightly awakened surprise with which it is his pleasure to regard a fine woman; but what, indeed, are all the women in the world to this caricature of manhood, in comparison with his own sweet self? Anon, another variety of the same genus appears, quite as contemptible, not so amusing, and a great deal more disagreeable. This is your ruffian-dandy; one who affects a dashing carelessness in his dress and deportment, wears good clothes in a very ill fashion, and has generally a checked shirt, a sailor's hat, or some other article of dress sufficiently different from the ordinary costume of those around him to render him an object of notoriety. Mark the easy dignity of that swagger as he rolls along, staring impudently at all the women and frowning valiantly at all the men, as if he expected every moment to be insulted, and was afraid his courage might not be screwed up" to the sticking place." A sort of personage not unlike Mike Lambourne in Kenilworth, allowing for the modifications of the times. But lo! what comes next-dame nature's loveliest work, a woman; but, heaven and earth! how the mantuamaker has spoiled her! Why, what frippery have we here? Silks and lace, ribbons and gauze, feathers, flowers, and flounces ! Not but that these are all excellent things in their way, when judiciously used; but to see them all clustered, as in the present instance, on one woman at one time, is what the proverb states to be “ too much of a good thing," or what the poet terms" wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Then look at those sleeves in which her arms are lost, and that acre of hat upon her head, with a sufficiency of wheat ears and flowers on it, were they real, to feed a family or stock a garden. And see! as far as the eye can reach it rests on colors as varied and fantastical as the butterflies in summer or the leaves in autumn, in which the dear creatures have arrayed themselves. Oh, matrimony, matrimony ! thou art indeed becoming a luxury in which the rich and opulent alone will be able to indulge. Nine small children might be supported, but to deck out one of Eve's daughters in this fashion three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, is what nothing but a prize in the lottery or a profitable bankruptcy is equal to.-Still on they pass in throngs: the

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