1 fisted himself under some tavern bucks, and strutted up and down with a surtout which saved the Corporation the trouble of sweeping the streets-was seen every where at public places and parties, without doing any thing but yawn at the one, and stand in every body's way in the other, eating pickled oysters. His estimate of a party, where a man of feeling and refinement would go to enjoy elegant society, and rational amusement, was always founded on the quantity of porter, wine, and pickled oysters, handed round. Never was he known, on any occasion, to do any one thing either pleasing or useful-and, of course, in a little time he attained to the reputation of a fine gentleman; because, as he never did any thing, he must needs be so; employment being unworthy that high character. Some of the best bred people doubted his pretensions, until he thought of finding fault with every thing he heard and saw, when the opinion of his high breeding became unanimous. Whether the people got tired of him, or he grew tired of the people, I don't exactly know; but in order to get a new gloss, he went abroad, staid six months, and came back vastly improved; for he found this country more intolerable than ever-a sure sign of excessive refinement, especially as he made a point of proclaiming his opinion aloud at all parties. When I was last at N- I saw him in a book-store, reading a book upside down, and dressed as follows: to wit, one little hat, with a steeple crown; one pair of corsetts; one coat, so tight he could just breathe; one pair of pantaloons, so immeasurably wide and loose you could hardly tell whether they were petticoats or not; I don't recollect the residue of his costume-but his hair came out from beneath his hat like an ostrich's tail, and he stuck out behind like the African Venus. No doubt the ladies found him quite irresistible. "One might moralize and speculate on what had been the different estimation of these young men, at least hereafter, had they pursued a course becoming their fortune and education, and devoted themselves to a useful or brilliant career. Had they employed part of their fortunes, and their leisure, in adorning their minds, and encouraging a taste for refined, elegant, and scientific pursuits, although perhaps they might not have attained to any lofty eminence, they would have become associated, at least, with those that were eminent. They might have become their patrons, if not their equals, and attained to a blameless, nay, noble immortality, as the munificent encouragers s of genius; instead of being in their lives, the contempt of the virtuous and the wise; and in their deaths, the companions of oblivion." The author's remarks on Charitable Societies are, we think, eminently just. If there be any one evil in our community that cries out for extirpation more than another, it is the increase of pauperism, principally assignable to the manner in which alms are distributed by public charities, as the cause. On this subject, the following observations must be confessed by all to contain too much truth to be lightly overlooked. The author had been charged by his friend and correspondent, with "cherishing a confirmed antipathy to charitable institutions, and especially to those venerable married ladies, and thrice venerable spining lions, doing good." To this charge sters, who go about our cities like roarthe author thus replies: "Here, too, you mistake me. I only objected to the infinite number of these institutions, which are placed solely under the direction of women, whose easiness of belief, and want of experience of the various disguises under which the vicious practise on the credulity of the charitable, render them incompetent to such a delicate task. I am satisfied that this almost indiscriminate charity causes far more misery than it alleviates; panders to vice and immorality, by taking from the labouring class the strongest inducement to industry and economy, namely, the conviction that these alone would keep them from starving; by rendering it easier to get relief by begging than by work; and finally, by giving a sort of respectability to pauperism and beggary, which destroys the salutary contempt we used to feel towards those now right honourable and thriving professions. The moment you make beggary a tolerably respectable calling the moment you relieve it from the tax which it pays to society, by being despised; that moment you create armies of Lazarones, and convert the idle and the indolent, whom the sense of shame had hitherto deterred, into sturdy beggars. When I was last in your city, where there is a society for the relief of every thing, I was struck with the bold and confident air which pauperism had assumed, which I suppose partly arose from the unwonted respectability of the dress it had assumed. Formerly, it was necessary for a beggar to be both ragged and dirty, and to exhibit the strongest symptoms of inability to work. But during the period of my visit, I was several times accosted by stout, hearty fellows, who under pretence they could not get work, begged without a blush. The friend with whom I stayed, complained to me that there was hardly a day in which he was not called on for charitable contributions, either to relieve somebody, or to convert the Hindoos, or Hottentots, by some of those good ladies I spoke of, who are such sturdy beggars that there is no refusing them. One day, as I was sitting alone in the drawingroom, thinking about matters and things in ge neral, I was roused by a most confident rap at the door. On opening it, a smart dressed young lady tripped in. Professing a great respect for the sex, I bowed most profoundly, and invited her into the parlour. The moment she sat down, without being asked her wishes, and with the air of a demand rather than a request, she told me that her mother being in want of ten dollars, she had come with Miss -'s compliments, The and a request that I would let her have the "I had scarcely recommenced my cogitations, when there was another rap at the door, and a most respectable looking matron was shown in, who handed me a subscription-book for raising moHottentots. I asked her, with all the respect I ney for the support of missionaries among the could assume, whether all the poor Indians of this country were converted? Whether the soul of a Pottawottomy was not as well worth saving as that of a Hottentot? And whether their duty to God and their country would not be quite as well fulfilled, by converting dangerous and bloody savages at our doors, into mild and peaceable Christian neighbours, as by going to the East for that purpose? Lord, Sir, replied the lady, nobody thinks of matters so near at home. Besides, the Missionary Magazines, and Reviews, don't say half as much about our Indians as they do about the Hottentots and Hindoos.' This was conclusive; so I paid my contribution for the conversion of the poor Hottentots, in hopes of getting into the Missionary Magazine. "After this rencontre I went out, leaving directions with the servant to note if any suspicious persons knocked in my absence. On my return he informed me that six ladies, with subscription-books, had called during the remainder of the morning. "I hope by this time you begin to comprehend what I mean; to wit, that the distribution of public charities ought to be in the hands of public officers, acquainted with the world, and able to detect imposture of every kind. It will then be bestowed with a wariness and circumspection, which, while it operates as far as is possible to the relief of virtuous distress, does not encourage and pamper idleness and debauchery. I can hardly believe these good ladies, to whose desire to do good I give every due praise, do really benefit mankind by taking from the pockets of the good to bestow on the worthless." The sentiments of these letters, with which we least accord, are those in regard to the cultivation of the physical sciences. On this subject the author has allowed his satire to flow too freely, and in his reprehension of the follies of philosophers, has indulged a contemptuous manner toward some of the greatest and most deserving men of the age, entirely unjust to them, and altogether unworthy the general liberality of his views and magnanimity of his feelings. Our author's account of the papermoney system of this country, contains a great deal of mournful and momentous truth, and cannot be too effectual in exciting our citizens to ponder upon the consequences of that rabid spirit of speculation, which has already commenced its devastations, and is going on to shake our social fabric to its deepest foundations. The genius of our author is not a little versatile; he can, with much ease and grace, pass from the sarcastic and indignant reprehension of vice, or the sprightly and cutting raillery of folly, to the most deep-felt enjoyment and poetical description of the retired and tranquil scenes of nature, or the delineation of the mild, benignant, and placid features of domestic life. As a beautiful spe cimen of his power in the pathetic, we cannot resist the temptation to quote the following short account of the life, character, and death of a Quaker lady. After some excellent, racy remarks on the manners and character so frequently assumed by young clergymen, the author thus indulges his contemplative mood. "Having two or three hours to spare till dinner, we rambled about the church-yard, reading the records of mortality, which, though every where confined to a few simple items, concerning a few insignificant people, are always interesting. They are the history of high and low; and none can read them without being impressed with a conviction that all are his brothers at last-for all die. He who moulders below was born, and died; and whether rich, or a beggar, his short history is that of kings. The struggles of restless ambition, the reverses of the great, and the story of the wreck of lofty pride, we read as an interesting romance, addressing itself solely to the imagination: but when a monarch or a hero dies, he becomes our equal; his death is an example equally with that of the meanest mortal; and we here realize our common nature, and common end. "While poring over these tombstones, our attention was attracted by a long cavalcade, on foot, on horseback, and in carriages of various kinds, winding slowly over one of the hills at a distance. It came towards the church-yard, entered it, and stopt at a large oak, under which was a newly dug grave we had not noticed before. The people of the village were attracted by it, and came up, one after another, until there were, I. suppose, two hundred, men, women, and children, gathered together. Without a whisper, except that of the oaks around, the coffin was taken from the wagon, lowered into the grave, and covered with earth. I never witnessed a silence more solemn and affecting; and beautiful as is our church funeral service, I will venand awful devotion than that which impressed ture to say it never raised a feeling of more deep the dead silence around. There was no need of saying "dust to dust:" every clod of earth, as it fell hollowly on the coffin, proclaimed that; neither was any proof wanting that "man who is born of a woman,' must die, for a thousand little hillocks around gave silent testimony to the fact. When the mound over the grave was smoothed with pious care, a little buzzing ran through the crowd-and as it slowly separated, some ventured to talk about the deceased person, who was, I found, a Quaker lady, who died-as others die, of some common malady or other. She was neither a belle nor a beauty ;no crowd ever followed her at a ball, nor could I learn that she had ever received a single offer of marriage, except from the person we had left still standing by her grave. Yet there was something in the story I learned of her, that affected me, I can hardly tell why, for it was not the least romantic. "It seems that her husband, in consequence of imprudence or misfortune, had several years be fore been confined in a prison for debt, leaving a family of eight children destitute. By the rare magic of industry and economy united, this woman, by her own labours, kept the little ones together,-fed, clothed, and sent them to school, until the gaol accidentally took fire, and the prisoner walked home. Here he afterward remained unmolested, for the virtue of his wife had sanctified his person. There is a species of calm, persevering, courageous, and unconquerable industry, that gets the better even of fate. Such, it seems, was the industry of this valuable woman, and it was rewarded even in this world. She lived, God bless her,―to see her husband independent, and to share many years of independence with him. She reared all her children, saw them honourably settled, and heard the old people say, that whatever had been her sacrifices for them, they had repaid her, by their dutiful affection, and exemplary conduct. Then when she at last died, neither poet made her an angel, nor newspaper eulogy a saint; but the neighbours, the neighbours, followed her to the grave without uttering a word,-and the husband and children stood round it with their faces co vered. "Now, if this little true story wants a moral, I think it will easily be found. For my part, cannot help believing this simple Quaker woman was a more valuable being, and fulfilled her duties far more to the benefit of society, than if she had been a member of as many charitable societies as aunt Kate-and had refused as many fools as a lady I once heard of in Virginia. 1 must own too, that I consider her silent, unobtrusive, suffering, fire-side virtue, as far ferable to the public and ostentatious newspaper charity, which, in the present time, stalks bravely forth, and beckons every worthless vagabond to its shrine from Europe, Asia, Africa, and America." pre There are numerous grammatical erFors, which we are surprised should have escaped the notice of the author, and an occasional slovenliness of style that looks like affectation; still, we think the "Letters from the South," well calculated to strengthen the bonds of our union by weakening sectional prejudice, and rendering all parts of our country mutually amiable in the eyes of Americans; and we cordially recommend it to general perusal. L. The Balance of Comfort; or, the Old Maid and Married Woman. A Novel. By Mrs. Ross, author of the Marchioness, &c. &c. 2 vols. New-York, 1817. us. Something superior to the mass of similar publications, our readers must not expect to meet with many traits of superlative excellence in the volumes before Indications of a tolerably extensive, if not very delicate and discriminating, acquaintance with the ordinary varieties of every-day life, are by no means unfrequent; and the facility and liveliness with which they are touched off, would be amusing enough, were the outlines more gracefully sketched, and the tints deeper and more determinate. With the dignified incident and diction of the higher class of modern novels, it would be ridiculous to compare a production, which the authoress evidently intended to occupy its unambitious station by the side of her former publications. Her representations of low character are drawn with a vigour and facetiousness that evince her familiarity with the species; but in her delineations from the polished world, she is often and obviously at fault, continually mistaking vulgar grossness and rough raillery for elegant wit and refined humour: throughout her attempts of this description, there is too much horseplay; while occasionally, she rushes into scenes, and ventures upon allusions very suitable indeed to the pages of Tom Jones and Roderick Random, but altogether inconsistent with that chasteness of sentiment, and delicacy of language, which ought to characterize the the works of female writers. G. The Essence of English Grammar, by Samuel Houston, A. B. Principal of Rural Valley Seminary in Rockbridge, Virginia. Harrisonburg, Lawrence Wartmann. 12 mo. pp. 49. This essence of English Grammar, as distilled through the alembic of Mr. Houston's brain, is a product as different from the material, as whiskey is from rye. After whose prescription "it was composed," (to borrow an expression of the author, when speaking of elegant composition,) we know not, but imagine that the diligent and exclusive study of Hannah Glasse's recipes might enable one to produce something very like it. E. A Grammar of Moral Philosophy, and Natural Theology, with a summary of the Evidences of Christianity, abstracted chiefly from the works of Dr. Paley. To which are subjoined Questions and Tables, adapted to the study of the sacred scriptures. By the Rev. J. W. Baker. New-York, David Longworth, 12mo. 248 pp. This is a judicious abstract, bringing into small compass and in a discreet arrangement, much of the most important matter on the subjects treated, and would form a good text-book for the older and more advanced scholars in our principal schools. L. Longworth's Pocket Almanack, and New-York and United States Kalendar, for 1818. New-York, David Longworth, 32mo. This is a very convenient Register, comprising much information of everyday use. THE TOUCHSTONE, or WORLD AS IT of Albany. Let the co-efficient of x=s, and that = my stitution and division √2+y3: 2m of y = 1: whence 'tis evident that the By involution, transposition and division, —ns=—1, co-efficient n of the second term of the given formula is s+ whence by completing the square, &c. 9=3+ √2 −1, and therefore the factors 2 Solution to the same, by X. of New-Haven. If a and b be the roots of the equation x2 — uxy+ y2=0, x-a and x-b are the factors required; since whatever be the value of the given expression, their product must always be equal to it. To find these roots, we have, by completing the x2 — ury + { u2 y2 (4u2-1) y; from which the roots are found, uy+yu2-1 and buy-y√4u-1. Hence the required factors are x-y. square, 2 = su+ √§u3 —1, & x—y. bu— √\u3 −1; which multiplied together will be found to re-produce the given expression. When u<2, these factors are necessarily imaginary, although the imaginary parts disappear in the product. Solution to Ques. 6, by M. O'Connor, NewYork. Let x, y and z denote the absciss, ordinate, and curve respective, and x, y and z their respective fluxions-put a=7354, and c=3.1416. Then 4ay2x=cy2x= the fluxion of the solid, and 2cyz= the fluxion of the superficies. Now these fluxions, in every position of the generating circle 2cy will be in the constant ratio of m to n, because by the question their fluents must be in that ratio; therefore m : n :: cy3x : 2cyż :: yx: 2ż; hence 2m z =my but x=√2+y2. Hence by sub 4m2 ja n2y2+4m2 lution will be x This equation by evo 2my √n2y2+4m2 of which the fluents, by notation and form 9th of EMERSON'S table of fluents, are r=. 2m × hyper. log. of y+ √y2+4m2 which To find the equation of a curve such, that the contents of the solid, formed by the curve, and ordinate about a variable absciss, shall be in a constant ratio to its curve superficies-Let x be the absciss, and y the ordinate, and let z represent the length of the curve to the absciss x, let p=3.1416; then it is well known that 2pydz expresses the differential of the curve superficies, and py2dx expresses the differential of the solid contents; suppose that the solid is to its curve superficies as m to n, then since this proportion is constant, it follows that py2dx: 2pydz :: m : n'.* •ydxn=2dzm, whence ydxx the equation of the curve. The expression for the solidity of the solid, generated by the revolution of the above curve, about its P axis, equals (ay √y2a2-1+hl (y+ 2a √y2-2) the curve superficies = a (ay √y3a3—1+hl (y+vy2-12) The length of the curve z=√a2y2-1 and its area = √a3y2 —1. a2 Solution to Question 8, by M. O'Connor, Since the sun's declination, July 4th, 1817, is 22° 55', it is plain that the sun's central ray on that day describes a cone of which the vertex is at the earth's centre, whose axis is coincident with that of the earth, and whose side forms with its axis at said vertex an of 67° 05'. Taking the lat. of N. York-40° 43', its comp. 49° 17' the the horizon of N. York makes with the cone's base, and this being greater than 22° 55′ (= sun's declination) the which the cone's side makes with its base, the intersection of the cone and said horizon must be an hyperbola; and all cones described by Solution to Question 7, by a disciple of the same ray must evidently be similar, Let D E Newton. M K E L H D be the given KM::N:- · GK: 2KM::n: m-n, = and cut by the same horizon, must produce like curves. Now the which the sun's meridional ray makes with the horizon in a meridional direction is = the supplement of half the cone's vertical added to the lat. of N. York = 72° 12′ the sun's altitude at noon. And since the earth's radius is very small compared with its distance from the sun, the solar ray, which by means of the summit of the edifice marks the vertex of the given transverse axis, may be regarded as coincident with and equal to the said meridional central ray, the former and latter necessarily make one and the same of 72° 12′ with said horizon. Now this ray, during the time it describes the curve of which the axis is given, describes portions of two opposite cones, which have their common vertex at the summit of the edifice, and it is the intersection of the horizon with the northern cone that forms the curve in question, which, as we have shown, must be an hyperbola; also, these cones are similar to the first cone, and the horizon cuts them at the same angles as the first. And the distance on the plane of the horizon in the direction of the meridian between the points when said plane meets the cones, is the given transverse axis. Imagine a vertical plane through the axis of these cones, and its intersection with both and the horizon forms a of which two sides are between the horizon and their common vertex; and the 3d, the given axis upon the horizon; in which we have given, besides the axis, the at the vertex = twice the sun's declination = 45° 50′, and one of the angles at the horizon = the supplement of 720 12 the sun's altitude = 107.48, to find by trigonometry |