more than one of you hold such as I should think ought to send you straight over to Somerville, if you have any logic in your heads or any human feeling in your hearts. Anything that is brutal, cruel, heathenish, that makes life hopeless for the most of mankind and perhaps for entire races,- anything that assumes the necessity of the extermination of instincts which were given to be regulated, 10 -no matter by what name you call it,no matter whether a fakir, or a monk, or a deacon believes it, if received, ought to produce insanity in every well-regulated mind. That condition becomes a normal 15 one, under the circumstances. I am very much ashamed of some people for retaining their reason, when they know perfectly well that if they were not the most stupid or the most selfish of human be- 20 ings, they would become noncompotes at once. [Nobody understood this but the theological student and the schoolmistress. They looked intelligently at each other; 25 but whether they were thinking about my paradox or not, I am not clear. It would be natural enough. Stranger things have happened. Love and Death enter boarding houses without asking the price of 30 board, or whether there is room for them. Alas, these young people are poor and pallid! Love should be both rich and rosy, but must be, either rich or rosy. Talk about military duty! What is that to the 35 warfare of a married maid-of-all-work, with the title of mistress, and an American female constitution, which collapses just in the middle third of life, and comes out vulcanized India-rubber, if it happen to live through the period when health and strength are most wanted?] 40 -Have I ever acted in private theatricals? Often. I have played the part of the Poor Gentleman,' before a great 45 many audiences, more, I trust, than I shall ever face again. I did not wear a stage-costume, nor a wig, nor mustaches of burnt cork; but I was placarded and announced as a public performer, and at 50 the proper hour I came forward with the ballet-dancer's smile upon my countenance, and made my bow and acted my part. I have seen my name stuck up in letters so big that I was ashamed to show myself in the place by daylight. I have gone to a town with a sober literary essay in my 55 5 pocket, and seen myself everywhere announced as the most desperate of buffos, one who was obliged to restrain himself in the full exercise of his powers, from prudential considerations. I have been through as many hardships as Ulysses, in the pursuit of my histrionic vocation. I have traveled in cars until the conductors all knew me like a brother. I have run off the rails, and stuck all night in snow-drifts, and sat behind females that would have the window open when one could not wink without his eyelids freezing together. Perhaps I shall give you some of my experiences one of these days; I will not now, for I have something else for you. Private theatricals, as I have figured in them in county lyceum-halls, are one thing.- and private theatricals, as they may be seen in certain gilded and frescoed saloons of our metropolis, are another. Yes, it is pleasant to see real gentlemen and ladies, who do not think it necessary to mouth, and rant, and stride, like most of our stage heroes and heroines, in the characters which show off their graces and talents; most of all to see a fresh, unrouged, unspoiled, high-bred young maiden, with a lithe figure, and a pleasant voice, acting in those love-dramas that make us young again to look upon, when real youth and beauty will play them for us. - Of course I wrote the prologue I was asked to write. I did not see the play, though. I knew there was a young lady in it, and that somebody was in love with her, and she was in love with him, and somebody (an old tutor, I believe) wanted to interfere, and, very naturally, the young lady was too sharp for him. The play of course ends charmingly; there is a general reconciliation, and all concerned form a line and take each others' hands, as people always do after they have made up their quarrels, then the curtain falls,- if it does not stick, as it commonly does at private theatrical exhibitions, in which case a boy is detailed to pull it down, which he does, blushing violently. and Now, then, for my prologue. I am not going to change my caesuras and cadences for anybody; so if you do not like the heroic, or iambic trimeter brachy-catalectic, you had better not wait to hear it. The stage a world-was what he meant to 15 Beats the black giant with his score of slaves. All earthly powers confess your sovereign say. The outside world's a blunder, that is clear; The cheats are taken in the traps they laid; Join hands, so happy at the curtain's fall. - Here suffering virtue ever finds relief, 30 And black-browed ruffians always come to grief. -When the lorn damsel, with a frantic screech, And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach, Cries, Help, kyind Heaven!' and drops upon her knees On the green - baize,- beneath the (canvas) See to her side avenging Valor fly:- art But that one rebel,- woman's wilful heart So, just to picture what her art can do, Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade, shaggy-browed, Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. His falchion lighted with a sudden gleam, As the pike's armor flashes in the stream. He sheathed his blade; he turned as if to go; 35 The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. 'Why strikest not? Perform thy murderous act,' 40 -When the poor hero flounders in despair, Sobs on his neck, My boy! MY BOY!! The prisoner said. (His voice was slightly cracked.) Friend, I have struck,' the artist straight replied; "Wait but one moment, and yourself decide.' He held his snuff-box,- Now then, if you please!' The prisoner sniffed, and, with a crashing sneeze, Off his head tumbled,-bowled along the floor, Ours, then, sweet friends, the real world to- 50 Bounced down the steps; - the prisoner said night Of love that conquers in disaster's spite. Ladies, attend! While woeful cares and doubt Wrong the soft passion in the world with- 55 out, Though fortune scowl, though prudence interfere, no more! Woman! thy falchion is a glittering eye; We die with love, and never dream we're The prologue went off very well, as I hear. No alterations were suggested by the lady to whom it was sent, so far as I know. Sometimes people criticise the poems one sends them, and suggest all 5 sorts of improvements. Who was that silly body that wanted Burns to alter 'Scots wha hae,' so as to lengthen the last line thus ? 'Edward!' Chains and slavery! Here is a little poem I sent a short time since to a committee for a certain celebra 10 In cellar, in pantry, in attic, in hall, Down, down, with the tyrant that masters us all! Long live the gay servant that laughs for us att! The company said I had been shabbily treated, and advised me to charge the tion. I understood that it was to be a 15 committee double, which I did. But as festive and convivial occasion, and or- 'Dear Sir, Your poem gives good satisfaction to the committee. The sentiments expressed with reference to liquor 25 are not, however, those generally entertained by this community. I have therefore consulted the clergyman of this place, who has made some slight changes, which he thinks will remove all objections, and 30 keep the valuable portions of the poem. Please to inform me of your charge for said poem. etc., etc. Our means are limited, etc., logwood I never got my pay, I don't know that it made much difference. I am a very particular person about having all I write printed as I write it. I require to see a proof, a revise, a re-revise, and a double re-revise, or fourth-proof rectified impression of all my productions, especially verse. Manuscripts are such puzzles! Why, I was reading some lines near the end of the last number of this journal, when I came across one beginning The stream flashes by, Now as no stream had been mentioned, I was perplexed to know what it meant. It proved, on inquiry, to be only a mis-print for 'dream.' Think of it! No wonder 35 so many poets die young. I have nothing more to report at this time, except two pieces of advice I gave to the young women at table. One relates to a vulgarism of language, which I While the nectar still reddens our cups as 40 grieve to say is sometimes heard even they flow? decoction Pour out the ich juices still bright with the from female lips, the other is of more serious purport, and applies to such as contemplate a change of condition, matrimony, in fact. The woman who calc'lates' is lost. Put not your trust in money, but put your money in trust. The Atlantic Monthly, Dec., 1857. 50 sugar THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS How sweet is the breath of the fragrance of lead |