Neither, I should suppose, is the ratio between modesty and blushing always the same. For the suffusion of the cutaneous capillaries—the proximate cause of blushing—may be greater and more facile in one person than another, owing to the greater capacity of those capillaries in him, and to his peculiar constitution, as to the remaining portion of the chain of causation in this phenomena. And hence a person so constituted may blush frequently, though having but little modesty; and another, who has the opposite bodily constitution, may blush very seldom although modest. as for instance, between a man and his horse or meet with any thing unexpected, which is at the hat. This is generally owing, perhaps, to our same time very pleasurable. seeing them so frequently together, that we at last inseparably associate them: and the idea of the one constantly suggesting that of the other, we at last imagine some fitness or likeness between them. But with respect to the clothing, and of a person, there may be some similarity. For in our conception of an individual, each part of him enters; and, as each part of his clothing is adapted to a portion of his body, of course there is a similarity in form: and this likeness is the greater when the person in case is symmetrically formed. The qualities too of his mind enter into our conception of an individual, and there appears a likeness between these qualities and their effects; thus, there seems a likeness between a miser and his mean clothes. And, when we see a person doing a thing very much in consonance with our preconceived notion of his character and disposition, we say "that is just like him." There is too a shadowy, an indefinable and inexpressible likeness floating throughout the universe of things, between material properties and immaterial attributes: thus, we see a likeness between the fragile and beautiful flower, and the delicate and gentle beauty. In fact, in the formation of language, the names given to immaterialities were derived from material things, from this shadowy likeness existing between them. Just as we have finished a very interesting novel or tale-one which has absorbed our whole attention-we feel a sad and listless emotion, on our thoughts returning to life's dull track. The night, with its black garment, covereth all things, and the rain falls uninterruptedly, with a soothing and calm sound, unmixed with aught other, save the fitful moanings of the homeless wind, as it ever and anon wets the window-pane with its rainy tears. But, though it be night, still it is not dark: for above the hovering vapors the moon is shining brightly; and, although her countenance does not mirror itself in our eyes, yet still her light, shining through the weeping clouds, becomes transmuted into that mysterious and starry dimness which Our conception of a person's face, differs very brightens all things without casting a shade. And much during our acquaintance with them from these two things, the wind and rain, mingle together what it was at first. This is, perhaps, owing to the like body and spirit: and besides their whispered mysterious and inseparable connection between the communing, there is no sound from "bird, insect, or idea which we have of any one's face and person gentle beast," or any inanimate thing, save when the generally, and that which we have of his actions trees and houses modulate those mysterious voices. and mental qualities. By a longer acquaintance, And every now and then different parts of the heawe see an individual in situations in which we be- vens assume a brighter appearance, but soon the come more fully acquainted with the latter; and, as rolling darkness of clouds closes over them againour ideas change with respect to these, a corres-like truth gleaming upon us momentarily, and imponding change is produced with regard to our con- mediately sinking into the blackness of the unception of his personal appearance. known.-April. When in reading we meet with any calculation, Spirit of mystery-then, Oh, then, it was that if it is in figures, the effect upon us is much more I felt thy presence! Thou, who floatest through all striking than when it is only in words. This is owing, nature, constituting the essence of the sublime, and first, to figures being more tangible than words; and, making beauty still more beautiful by thy soulsecondly, to our being more accustomed to express-moving power. ing numbers by means of figures than words. 8. How seldom do we enjoy ourselves at any In looking upon the past, it is not so much the time so much as to forget the future. There are remembrance of things and circumstances, as the few who do not make the present but a preparation recurrence of old feelings, that moves our deepest for some expected future event; which event, when emotions-the recurrence of feelings which for- it comes, shall only answer the same purpose to merly ever co-existed with our conception of any something subsequent to it. The most of us thus pleasurable subject. And with these old feelings shape our conduct, not for present pleasure, but to there is mingled a soft and tender sorrow, from the assist us in obtaining something expected to be reflection that those times and relations are gone hereafter-perhaps far distant in the dim future. forever. It is then that our whole soul seems poured out in a gush of tender feeling-it is then that we feel most the intense power of memory. It is not modesty, and the feeling of shame only which give rise to blushing: we also blush when we And even though we do not make the present but preparatory, yet still we all have always some anticipated event before us, perhaps two or three of them, of which we think far more deeply and continually than of the present; so that indeed this is considered but as a part of the road leading to them. And our pathway in life is like that of those going to see some spectacle. Though they take pleasure in listening to the wind whispering in the frees, and to the songs of the birds, and in gazing circumstance, from visiting some person, whom we on the flowers springing up in their path, yet still had for some time previously intended visiting at This vexation, or rather mal-aisé, conthese occupy but few, comparatively, of their this time. thoughts and emotions; most of which are fixed sists in our not being able to abstract our minds upon the show to which they are going: this occu- from the intended performance. To whatever we pies the greater part of their attention, and prevents endeavor to turn our attention, this subject is sure them from giving much to any thing else. to present itself and mingle with our thoughts of it. Life is but a succession of such anticipated spec- For the longer any idea has remained in the mind, the more intense will be the co-existent emotions; and ward to it, and the greater the pleasure which we expected from its performance, the greater is the consequent vexation. An instance of this is-being prevented, by the occurrence of some unfavorable tacles. 9. Some persons praise those who rival them in the more recent its actions, the greater will be the any thing-not from any real love or admiration-difficulties in getting rid of that idea, and the Now become but in the first place, to turn away the suspicion of stronger its tendency to recur. envy from themselves; secondly, by praising them wholly useless and uninteresting, it prevents us too highly to cause others to dispraise them. For from giving full and undivided attention to any though they see through this depreciation and thing else; leaving us in a state of irresolution and feel its falsity, nevertheless it is gratifying, like uneasiness, which is made worse by the reflection, flattery, which still is sweet, though known to be false. that our expectation, and perhaps trouble in preparing, were wholly useless-and that our time might have been much better employed; and also 10. The large number of suitors which some belles have, shows the great influence that self-by being mingled with disappointment, if we exesteem exerts over every man. For each one who pected much pleasure from the act in question. A kindred feeling to this, is the anxiety felt addresses her imagines himself to be loved, when at the same time many of them know that persons whilst waiting in expectation of something; as, for far superior to themselves in almost every respect instance, whilst waiting until it is time for us to go have been rejected. The slightest action or ex-to some place, to which we intend going, or whilst pression is interpreted by each one as favorable to in expectation of some one's arrival. Thoughts of himself; and, whatever be his disadvantages, every the coming event will be so fixed in our mind, that man imagines that he has some charm about him we will not be able to attend to any thing else. calculated to excite love. Those who do not wish to waste their time, would best spend it, on such occasions, in some pleasant engagement, or in doing something which requires no thought; as, for instance, if they have any writing to copy, or extracts to transcribe, especially if the thing expected be such as to cause nervousness. 11. The comforting proverb, "that misfortunes never come single," and the practical observation, that when a man has had bad luck in two or three things, he is apt to meet with more, are perhaps somewhat true in the main. For if when one misfortune has happened to a man, he should then be placed in a ticklish situation with respect to some- 13. Although, upon the whole, a release from thing else, he will be very liable to fare badly: in having to do or suffer something unpleasant, is a the first place, on account of his resources in some relief and a pleasure to us, yet still it unites the cases being diminished by the previous misfor-disagreeable with the agreeable. For we feel an tune; and, secondly, on account of his being dispirited. But the contrary must also be the case: i. e. that good fortune rarely comes single, for similar reasons. But these things depend pretty much upon the character of the individual. For misfortune or adversity proves (as is said of pride in Devereux) "a stumbling block to some, and a springing board to others"-a sedative to one, and a stimulant to another. emotion akin to disappointment, when we reflect that the long contest which we have had, between will on the one hand and duty on the other, in the attempt to screw our courage to the sticking point, has been wholly inefficacious and useless. 14. A power girt around with a weakness.-Shelley. Such is a gentle female. She whose voice and manners are soft as the sounds of the gentle 12. That is a very disagreeable state of mind summer-rain falling on the green, green grass; which follows our being prevented, by some unto- whose love and prayers and good wishes, are as ward circumstance, from doing something, to do extensive in their objects as the silver dew. To which we had fully expected and prepared. This every good and wise man, she is indeed “a power unpleasant feeling occurs even when we expected girt around with a weakness." And that may rano great pleasure in the performance of the act; it may even be in itself rather unpleasant. But the longer the time during which we have looked for VOL. VI.-28 ther be affirmed of gentleness, and of the power of her who is gentle, (over them at least,) than of beauty, and the power of the beautiful; which Ana creon observes, in his second ode, that Nature, instead of any defence, has given beauty unto woman, and that she who is beautiful may conquer all things. The truly refined, value the jewel within far more than the casket which contains it; and the irradiations of a beautiful mind within, with their dazzling brightness, prevent them from observing any homeliness of countenance. But can there be a very homely countenance-one that we shall dislike to look upon-where there is a noble mind within? For what is the face but an instrument for the mind to play upon a conductor for the lightning within? And, where mind is wanting, the face cannot be otherwise than dull, uninteresting, and unlovely. The natural weakness of the human heart, is also exemplified in the following trait of human character. If a man hear of a misfortune happening to another, and that misfortune seems likely to conduce to his own good, with the sorrow for him that suffers, there will certainly be mingled some pleasure on account of the anticipated benefit to himself. And the emotion of pleasure will frequently predominate over, and sometimes absorb that of pain; and this, too, even when the expected benefit shall be very small, or perhaps imaginary. So strong is selfism! In general, this feeling is of course the stronger, according as the individual is of a more selfish or worse disposition. : We cannot have a fair idea of the weakness of 15. Different arguments are necessary to con-human nature, until we reach the age of manhood. vince different persons of the truth of any doctrine; For before, though we know how feeble and frail and an argument which would fully convince one human nature is, so far as it applies to ourselves individual, might have no weight at all with ano-and to our companions, yet, from our veneration of ther. One disbelieves it on account of not being them, we are apt to imagine that our parents and satisfied with respect to one point; a second, with elders are not so weak. And not even then can we respect to another-each of them feeling satisfied see its full extent: for, though we may see that with, or at least making no objection to, that which extent in all those around us, yet we all have in puzzles the other. To convince either of them, our mental vision some great character whom we therefore, you must satisfy him with regard to the fancy to be superior to it. It is only, then, the point of which he is doubtful. It is on this account, greatest and the wisest-those looked up to-the in some measure, that books which convince some Washingtons of the earth-who can have a just of the truth of the Christian Religion, fail in con-idea of the littleness of human nature and this is vincing others. And it is hence, that the fact of one reason that such men have often been the most Gibbon's being so great an infidel, after having humble Christians-the most pious men. examined the history of the Christian Religion as comforting to the philanthropist, that these, although minutely as any one ever did, is, or at least appears they saw the faults, yet also saw the good traits of to me to be, no argument against its truth. For human character. And the wisest and best men even if he had commenced his researches with therefore have not been scorners and scoffers of an unbiassed mind, and had found unanswera- their kind. This class is mostly composed of those ble proofs of its authenticity, yet still this might who judge the whole human race by themselves, not have convinced him. For his doubts might or who have but a partial view of human nature. have been rather about some other particular; as 17. Our idea of the character of a person is defor instance, the doctrine of the Trinity, or the na-duced from the whole tenor of his conduct, rather ture of the Redemption. It might have been these, which to his eyes clothed the whole subject with the darkness of falsity; and to have thoroughly convinced him, satisfaction here was necessary. But it is than from any particular act or acts. This tenor is composed of circumstances so inexpressible or small as to be nameless, or so unimportant as to be unobserved except en masse. And hence, someThe fact was, however, that he set out in his times, when asked for reasons for our opinion of a researches not with an unbiassed mind, but with a person, we may be able to give very few or none mind prepared to bring forward every possible his-at all; and still we may have just grounds for our torical fact, to aid him in his futile endeavors to opinion, and it may accord with the truth. 'sap that solemn creed," which he believed to be 18. How fond writers are of quoting old and wholly false. To a mind in this state, facts, how-rarely-read authors. And frequently they quote and ever strong, would have availed nothing. 16. There is no one, however great be his affection for a friend, and however pure in its essence, who would have that friend to look into the inmost recesses of his heart, and see every feeling which he has in relation to him. For though his love be very pure and intense, yet still ever and anon there are slight and transitory feelings of disgust, anger, or some other like emotion, at some action of that friend, which it is far better that he should not know. express the highest admiration for books which are incapable of giving pleasure to any body, and which perhaps they themselves have not read at all except in extracts. If ever there was vanity displayed, it is in this practice-trying to appear superior in taste, and more deeply learned than any one else. 19. Although co-existence is a powerfully operating principle of association, yet how little of our knowledge can we trace to the time at which we acquired it. Singular it is, that of things happening when we were in our boyhood, we have a distinct remembrance-in fact, a better one than of many events subsequently occurring; and yet of the first two or three years of our life, we have scarcely the slightest recollection. I suppose that this is owing in some measure to our want of attention then, and to the confusion produced by many new things entering our minds in quick succession, but chiefly to the imperfection of our notions at that time. For example, an infant has no idea of distance, and will grasp at things very far off-as, for instance, at the moon. And I suspect, (as Locke observes to be the case with animals,) that they compound very little. Thus, a child considers every thing gold that is yellow; and hence, they can have but an incomplete idea of an object, with respect to the qualities The which it possesses, considering each one as a separate thing. Indeed, we may almost say, that when very young indeed, they have no mental function developed but sensation. I have often thought, whilst looking at an infant, how much it had to learn-think of the number of words alone. And when a man dies, how much knowledge and experience then departs from earth forever. To feel that he brings back, through mists - IV. The roses that with garish bloom, In pleasure's garden spring, Baltimore, March 1840, W. T. 8. THE SOUTH-WEST. South-West: Its History, Character and Prospects. A Discourse for the Eighth Anniversary of the Erosophic We are not disposed to pass over this dicourse with the mere cursory notice usually allotted to productions of a similar character. The increase of colleges in our country has made collegiate addresses so common, that a certain stereotyped style of praise or blame, is the brief welcome of all. We admit a partial necessity for this summary method; but the necessity is not of that kind which knows no law. The rule may be departed from; and if departures from it be guided by due discrimination, these fugitive productions-birds of passage on the sky of literaturemay give as sweet carols in their flight, as are ever won from their more pretending rivals. And, if we mourn over the ruined and crumbling temple, how much more should we grieve when genius passes from the world. Then vanishes from us forever a mental temple which has been building for years each day becoming more and more noble-a temple far more glorious in itself, and This may be said with much truth, concerning the subadorned with far brighter ornaments, than any ma-ject of the present article. Although local, both in its chaterial one-with noble thoughts, with abundant knowledge, with glorious imaginings. Williamsburg, 1840. "SOUVENIRS DU JEUNE AGE." I. If Manhood's waves have borne our bark II. If Time hath laid his hand upon The things about our home, And that, while change rules all without, III. Yet, sweeter than all this, it is To meet, when we are men, G. racter and the circumstances of its origin, yet it regards a locality about which all are interested. There are none, but look with deep and abiding emotions on the Great SouthWest. Of these a moiety view it as a splendid Utopian reality-a bona-fide El Dorado,-where apples of gold really shine on pictures of silver. Others view it through a darkened medium. Rumor, as she has shot by them, has buzzed in their ears a foul story of perfidy and crime. She has told them of murder, baring his red arm in the open streets; of revenge, anticipating the tardy footsteps of justice; of vice, pitching his tents in the face of noonday, and lovingly embraced by the beings who surround his abodes. Here and there, we find a philosopher taking his stand between these two extremes. He sees nothing to warrant either the wild enthusiasm of the one, or the reckless fanaticism of the other. He beholds a section of country for which a bountiful God has done much. He looks upon a broad expanse, fertilized by noble streams, and yielding its harvests kindly; and his heart swells with joy, that there the poor man's little is abundantly sufficient to provide an ample inheritance for his children. In its moral condition he sees no cause of surprise-no reason for dark anticipations. He knows that society is new, and necessarily unsettled; that the consequent rudeness is moreover heightened by the influx of many, who have found the moral purity of their early homes a plough-share too hot for their guilty footsteps, and who have sought obscurity in a region where each man is a stranger to his neighbor. But he sets off against these, the high, enterprizing character of a vast majority of the emigrants, whom he daily sees wending their way thither. He beholds the wealthy-the young and gifted--the piousthe prudent-all tending to the same goal; and he knows, by his faith in man, as well as his trust in God, that the combined influences of all these agents must ultimately prevail. near Mobile, went northwardly; crossed the Black Warrior, not far south of Tuscaloosa, and continued his course into the state of Mississippi, where he spent the winter, and subsequently discovered the Father of Waters-which mighty stream was the place of his burial! The events which marked the second period laid down, (from 1562 to 1698) are matters of general record, and therefore more slightly noticed. It is known that by the expe But in regard to the early history of the South-West, the enthusiast, the fanatic, and the philosopher are equally blind. Settled long, long ago, by French and Spanish adventurers, its records remain buried in the antiquated volumes of their respective languages, and scarcely an attempt has been made to roll the stone from the door of the sepul-dition of DeSoto, Spain considered herself mistress of the chre. Little do the majority of our readers wot, what a busy, bustling scene was that same South-West, some three centuries ago. Little do they imagine that on this mighty theatre were witnessed, lang-syne, the waving plume, the glittering helmet, 'the pomp and circumstance of glorious war;' accompanied by displays of man's manhood, aye, and of woman's trust, that would mock the gayest tourney, and set at nought the wildest visions of romance! whole North American continent, though she made but few attempts to take possession. In the meantime, the agents of France had explored the country, taken it in the name of their sovereign, and called it Louisiana. But in 1693, Spain took possession of West Florida, settled Pensacola, and established an active trade with the Alabamon and Chickasaw Indians. The third general division comprises from 1698 to 1768; The author of the pamphlet before us is well fitted to a period of seventy years. In 1699, Iberville, an officer of do justice to his theme. He is himself a poet, and well the king of France, brought out a colony of three hundred calculated to elicit the romance of its reality. And not individuals, and settled them, some on Dauphin island in only so-but in the space of forty pages, he has contrived Mobile bay, and the rest at the bay of Biloxi, in the now to compress a great deal of rare and valuable information. state of Mississippi. He immediately commenced interHe commences with some very happy allusions to the Uni-course with the Alabamons, Chickasaws, Mobiles and versity, as the "intellectual home of his boyhood," and to the period spent there, as a "brief moonlight track upon the waters of youth," We regret that our limits preclude us from adopting entirely his own language; we shall wander along however, abridging and condensing as we go, so that our readers may at least have the benefit of the information contained in his pages, though they lose the easy and flow-was built upon the present site of the city. The colony ing style of the original, Choctaws of the interior; built a fort on the Mississippi river, and then returned, leaving his brother, Bienville, governor of the colony. He, in 1702, built a fort on the bay of Mobile, near where the city of that name now stands. This fort was destroyed by an inundation, in the spring of 1711, when Fort Condé, the ruins of which are yet visible, suffered severely from wars and the yellow fever; which, there, made its first appearance in this country, in the year 1705, and carried off thirty-five individuals—so that in 1712, the whole European population numbered only three hundred and eighty, Our author professes to take but "a hasty and superficial glance" at the hitherto 'very partially explored field of South-Western history,' in order to show simply, its peculiar and romantic character, and the rich fund of historic materials that lie unappropriated, and daily perishing.'p. 11. For the sake of order and conciseness, he divides his sub-charter of the colony. His officers took possession; built ject into five general periods. In 1713, Crozat, a rich Parisian merchant, received the Fort Toulouse at the junction of the Coosa and Tallapoosa, The first includes the time of Hernando DeSoto, and and located several other military establishments. Crozat opens with an animated description of the battle fought by surrendered the charter in 1717, and left the colony but lithim near the junction of the Alabama and Tombeckbeetle improved. In 1718, the population was 800, at which rivers, on the 18th of October, 1540; in which he was opposed by the natives under their chief, Usca, The Indians numbered ten thousand, and the battle was the bloodiest ever fought on our soil. The Indians fled for refuge to their city, whither they were pursued, and amid the shrieks of their families and flames of their dwellings, were unsparing-astical districts for the purposes of the Roman Catholic rely destroyed. time, the colony was given up to the direction of the Western Company,' under which it continued for fourteen years. Bienville was reinstated, and the general prosperity greatly increased. New Orleans was founded; Pensacola taken from the Spaniards; the country divided into nine ecclesi ligion; indigo, rice and tobacco, cultivated; large numbers of slaves imported: and the powerful tribe of Natches Indians subdued by Perrier, who, in 1726, had succeded his brother Bienville as governor. Here is related a romantic incident that occurred about this time. We have seen allusions to this battle in the works of Bancroft, and in Gallatin's Synopsis. But each of these writers fails of giving it the proper locality. Both of them are signally inaccurate in many of their allusions to these times. The former indeed has written very little about them, and does not pretend to be very accurate, But Gallatin makes different pretensions; yet even he has made statements, at variance not only with indubitably authentic documents that have come to our knowledge, but even with the most approved charts of the country itself. Theodore Irving professes to be more minute, yet he is entirely at fault in regard to the route of DeSoto, through the South-fuge in these far colonies, while he represented that she was West. But so far as his route through Alabama is concerned, the pamphlet before us is particular, and, as we have every reason to believe, correct. We learn from it, that having proceeded northward from Florida through Georgia, he entered Alabama at its northeastern extremi ty; thence, he descended along the banks of the Coosa, to its junction with the Tallapoosa; crossed the latter stream, and proceeded west, along the banks of the Alabama river, which he crossed about fifty miles from its junction with the Tombeckbee, and there fought the abovementioned battle. He then, after spending several weeks "Among a company of German colonists, who arrived at Mobile, in 1721, there came a female adventurer, of great personal beauty, high accomplishments, and evidently pos sessed of much wealth. It was generally believed, as she herself represented, that she was the daughter of the Duke of Wolfenbuttle, and the wife of the Czarowitz Alexius Peter, the only son of Peter the Great, and that being cruelly treated by her husband, she had fled from him for redead. This belief was confirmed by the Chevalier d'Aubant, who, having seen the princess at St. Petersburgh, recog nized her features in the new comer; and upon the strength of his opinion, formed a matrimonial alliance with the repudiated wife. After many years residence in the colony, with all the style of a court, the chevalier went to Paris, with his princess. Here for some time, her story obtained general credit, and it was not until after the death of her husband that she was discovered to be an impostor. It was now proved that the pretended arch-duchess was only an humble female, who, having been attached to the wardrobe of the princess of Russia, had robbed her of large quanti ties of jewelry and gold, and had fled to America. By a similarity of appearance with her mistress, she imposed |