Chapter I: ASK not of the golden sun, why, when at eventide,

His last red glance is cast abroad on the green upland side;
I ask not why his radiant glow stays not to bless my sight,
Or why his yellow beams should sink behind the pall of night:
Day, night, and morn must come and go, along the changing sky,
With shadow and with grateful light, to cheer the wakening eye;
It is the change which makes them blest; all hold a tranquil power,
Whether 'tis morning's orient gleam, or evening's solemn hour.

II.

Thus should the soul in silence gaze, lit by pale Memory's star,
Over the heaving tide of life, whose wrecks but bubbles are;
And though the light of Joy be dim--though Hope's warm dream hath fled,
Though the deep wind hath mournful tones along the slumbering dead,
Still let thy spirit look abroad, and onward to the rest,
Which comes as twilight shadows steal across earth's verdant breast;
And chastened in the night of ill, amid its shadowed gloom,
Look to the holy morn which breaks the darkness of the tomb!

_Philadelphia_, W. G. C.

STANZAS.

'THERE is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground, yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant. But MAN dieth and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? JOB.

I.

BORN in anguish, nursed in sorrow,
Journeying through a shadowy span;
Fresh with health to-day--to-morrow
Cold and lifeless!--such is man.
Scarce produced to light, ere dying--
Like the fancied vision flying;
Scarcely budding forth, when blighted
'Dust to dust' again united!

II.

Richly shines the rainbow, glowing,
Lightly laughs the morning beam;
Sweetly breathes the flowret, blowing,
Deeply rolls the mountain stream:
But the heavenly bow hath faded,
And the morning beam is shaded;
And to earth the flower hath hasted,
And the mountain stream is wasted.

III.

Yet though passed awhile, these lie not
Ever in Destruction's chain;
Though the flowers may fade, they die not--
Spring shall wake their buds again:
Morning's smile again shall brighten,
And the storm the rainbow lighten;
And the torrent (summer finished,)
Roll its waters undiminished.

IV.

Man alone, when death hath bound him,
Moulders in the silent grave:
Of the friends who were around him,
None to succor, none to save!
Then when night and gloom assail thee,
And thy strength and glory fail thee,
And thy boasted beauty waneth,
Cold--in darkness--what remaineth?

V.

Cheering splendor yet attends us,
Mid these scenes of deepest gloom;
'Tis our 'hope in CHRIST' defends us
From the terrors of the tomb.
When we leave this vale of sadness,
'Tis to share unmingled gladness:
O the happy, happy greeting--
JESUS and our friends then meeting!

J. F. H.

NOTES OF A SURGEON.[1]

NUMBER ONE.

THE DISLOCATION.

THE reduction of a dislocated limb, in a person of muscular frame, is one of the most fearful and difficult operations in surgery; and in a lad or a female, there is much in the attending circumstances to excite the liveliest interest of the spectator. To hear the bone _click_, as it returns to its place; to behold the relief which is instantly experienced; the happiness so vividly depicted in the countenance; the inclination to immediate repose--every feather seeming to be a pillow to some over-strained and exhausted muscle--one cannot help cordially uniting in the feelings of the restored sufferer; nor can he restrain the smile which mantles his features, and is reflected in the lineaments of the surrounding surgeons.

In a strong man, where the muscles are rigid, and every fibre seems to be converted into a wire to resist the force exerted on them, the ceremony is one of distressing cruelty. The inquisition can scarcely furnish any thing more appalling, and certainly not the practice of surgery. The pain of an amputation may be more acute; but its very acuteness assures you that it will soon be over. The edge of the knife itself is an index, keen as the scythe of Time, and faithful as his march, of the progressive succession of the moments of trial; a fiëry monitor, which every instant sinks deeper, and will soon, very soon in the reality, but late, as it always must be, in the reckoning of the sufferer, reach its unswerving limits, the bone. And here the pain of the operation in a great measure ceases; for it is hardly necessary to state, that the sawing of this structure is not actually attended by any of the horrors with which vulgar apprehension has invested it. The ligature of the arteries, the dressing of the truncated member, etc., may each occasion a momentary anguish. But as to the mere pain of the operation, it is trivial, in comparison with that which an athletic man experiences in the reduction of a dislocated limb, which has been any length of time displaced.

It was a luxation of the thigh. The patient was a remarkably stout man, and bade fair to put in requisition the whole retinue of the hospital.

'Remember. Mr. F----,' said the attending surgeon, on leaving in the morning, 'be careful and have every thing ready--every thing. There must be no delay in seeking instruments while we are engaged with the patient.'

'I had better bleed him, probably?' replied I, inquiringly.

'Yes; an hour or so before twelve; and have him kept in the bath until then.'

I selected a double set of apparatus, consisting of very little else than a good strong block-and-tackle, and some padded buck-skin girths, and soon had them in their proper place in the 'theatre' of operations. This is an apartment of the hospital having very much the appearance of an ordinary theatre, but differing from it in being more especially appropriated to the enactment of tragedies; the play generally consisting in the lively representation of suffering on the part of the patient, and the exhibition of the coolest _nonchalance_ by the officiating surgeons. If sometimes enlivened by an interlude between the chief actors and the subs, their sallies are wholly spontaneous, and usually fail to receive that applause which is the customary reward of such improvisations on other boards. The room is small, and ranges of boxes extend on the three sides of an ovoid, to the ceiling, forming an incommodious but commanding observatory for spectators. The pit is separated from the boxes by a thin partition. In this little space, lies the chief difference between the theatre of the hospital and more strictly dramatic edifices. The floor is the stage, on which those weekly representations take place, that seldom fail to draw crowds of students from the neighboring college, during its session; though it is not often that the spectacle of misery, (too purely unpoetical,) draws a tear from the lachrymal sac of the ardent and enthusiastic disciple of Hippocrates.

The audience are, in truth, mostly exceedingly phlegmatic in their manifestations of sympathy. They behold the struggles of a luckless wretch, in the clutches of the veritable Procrustes, who endeavors to make him conform to the measure of his bed, by a few inches of stretching, in the reduction of a luxated thigh, without _apparently_ any fellow-feeling for his pitiable situation. They behold one of the lower limbs severed quite up to the hip-joint, and rivulets of blood streaming from the divided vessels of the stump, without a tremor, or a groan, or an exclamation, to evince the simultaneous racking of their own nerves; although it is true, that some youthful spectator will occasionally betray a tendency to _deliquium_, when he is immediately transported to a more kindred atmosphere.

The person to be operated on, was a man of vigorous constitution, and evinced great anxiety to have his body restored to its symmetry, and his limb to its usefulness. Though, as is usual in such cases, the probable severity of the operation, its duration, and the uncertainty of success, were laid before him in their true light, he was firm in his determination to have it done. Poor man! he could not bring himself to believe that there was a possibility of failure; nor did he suspect that, as strong a man as he was in resolution and bodily powers, he would be compelled, before the ceremonials of reduction were gone through with, to cry out, 'Give me some drink, Titinius, as a sick child.' Yet that such should be the case, shows that necessity is stronger than mortal resolution; and the same individual who asks you to reduce his limb, and then bids you cease your harrowing attempts, will in turn rebuke you if you obey his orders, given in the wildness of despair, and the limb thereby remain indissolubly locked in its distorted posture, an enduring monument of his own weakness, and of your culpable pliancy.

The patient was placed in a warm bath, and bled until faint. The object was to make him a sick man, as a preparatory step to rendering him whole. While superintending this necessary process, I hailed the nurse of ward No. 13, whose duty it was to attend to the regulation of the theatre.

'Nurse, have you seen that every thing is in order in the theatre?'

'I just came from there, doctor. I believe nothing is wanting.'

'We still need a bowl or two, and some warm water. You have the key?'

'Oh yes; I always carry the key of the side-doors. I shall not let any of the students in, doctor, until you say the word?'

'It will be as well to keep them out till the surgeons come. You must stand by, as we may want you to lend a hand.'

'There will be some occasion, I think, doctor, if I know any thing about a dislocation. I have been in this house fifteen years, and have seen Dr.----- try------'

'Well, be careful and have every thing ready.'

'Oh, I'll look out, doctor.'

His voice was soon heard at the farther end of the hall, summoning the nurse of one of the neighboring wards--a fellow whom Dr. D----- would have _pronounced_ an O'Rang O'Tang, though he was neither an Irishman nor a monkey in appearance.

'I say, No. 14, have you carried that water in yet?'

'No, but I will directly,' replied the subaltern.

'Well, while I'm gone down to the old lady's after some fresh blankets, _take care_ and have it done.'

How far this chain of rank extended downward, I can only conjecture. But it is probable that No. 14 did not consider himself the last link, and gave orders in an authoritative tone to one of his _inferiors_, and be d----d to him, to be careful and bring him a pail of water from the pump, while he stood on the steps to arrange his thoughts and shoe-strings.

I stepped down into the apothecary's shop, and procured a couple of drachms of tartar emetic. This I mixed up in a bowl of water, and gave a part of it to the patient, setting the remainder in a convenient place in the theatre. On a side-table, here, was spread out a pocket-case of instruments, containing scissors, scalpels, and every thing else that might be needed on an emergency.

The proper hour having now arrived, the disabled man was taken out of the bath, wrapped in a blanket, and supported into the theatre. On a table, in the centre of the pit, was placed the apparatus for reduction. The patient was extended on it, on his left side, and the young aspirants were called upon to exercise their ingenuity in attaching several silk handkerchiefs above the knee of the dislocated limb, (the right) with a clove-hitch. Surgeons are no sailors; and a knot which a cartman puts a hundred times a day over the front post of his cart, puzzles the juvenile professor exceedingly; and great is the honor bestowed on the fortunate achiever of the exploit. Phrenologists might find, in the retentive faculties of this knot, a desirable subject for investigation. The tighter you draw upon the two ends looped together, the more securely is the limb grasped; and a timber-head-hitch, as it is sometimes called, may be fixed to the tapering extremity of a slippery hacmetack log, and it will hold fast with the gripe of a drowning man, and allow you to drag it, for aught that can be averred to the contrary, half way round the globe. The mystery of this knot, unlike that of Gordian, is in the tying, not in the untying.

A broad belt was next passed along the _os ischium_, and up over the head, where it was fixed by a strong cord to the wall. Another was placed around the middle of the thigh. To the nooses in the end of the handkerchiefs, a small but strong pulley was attached, which was made fast at the other end to a staple on the side of the partition toward the patient's feet. In this situation, he seemed much as though stretched upon a rack, and waiting the application of the torture from his stern inquisitors; a resemblance which was more than justified in the progress of the operation.

The theatre was pretty well filled with students, and the arena of exhibition itself occupied by a sufficient number of persons either to assist, or to remain inactive spectators. The three chief surgeons stood about the feet of the patient, consulting as to the best mode of proceeding, and occasionally addressing a few words to the expecting patient. The walkers, house-surgeon, and one or two professional men, were arranged in convenient situations to afford aid. The nurse, _par excellence_, was also there, where his sailor-like promptness of hand in managing the rope was all important.

But as the reader does not, perhaps, know what a nurse is, _hospitaliter et male loquendo_, (that is, as applied to males, in hospital dialect,) it is proper that he should be made acquainted with him. I shall therefore peninsulate him briefly in this paragraph.

_Nurse!_--thy burly form would throw into inextricable confusion all ordinary notions of that soft and womanly occupation. To think of an advertisement like this: 'Wanted a wet-nurse, with a fresh breast of milk,' and of thy applying for it! Thy brachial extremities were far better adapted to embracing a cannon, than clasping an infant. Thou wert six feet three, leaving out the curve in thy shoulders, and wert called Featherbody, as if to show off thy unparalleled muscular development to better advantage. In fine, thy long chin, decisive mouth, nose of good magnitude, well-set eyes, rather superciliary eye-brows, low forehead, and matted hair, were sufficiently characteristic to have made thee remembered, had not thy extraordinary adaptation to thy office (so different from that which most conceive it to be) rendered thee an object of admiration to all who witnessed thy skill and prowess.

The patient thus extended upon the table, the bandages were taken from his arms; the bowl was held, and the flow of blood watched, to catch the first signs of failing strength. The vessel was already beginning to brim, when he sickened and vomited. It was now that the extension was put on. The sturdy, iron-armed nurse seized the stick around which the end of the pulley-rope was wound to give a firmer grasp to the hands, and began slowly and leisurely to bring the convolutions of the cord to a state of tension. His force, not trifling of itself, and now tripled, was not an eighth of it expended when its effects became apparent. The cord began to strain--the belt at the head tightened--the patient was lifted from the table, and became suspended between the two fastenings.

The surgeon, with his left hand upon the patient's ankle, and his right upon the upper end of the thigh-bone, while his knee, elevated by a stool, was placed under that of the _culprit_, as it hung over the end of the table, awaited the escape of the bone from its preternatural position. At the same time, a young Colossus stood upon the table, astride the unfortunate man, ready to lift up his thigh, and apparently tear it from his body, if it would not otherwise yield.

The man's groans now came thick and deep. He begged for a moment's intermission--_rest_, as he emphatically called it; and he never felt the full force of that word before, racked though his limbs had been, repeatedly, by the severest toil. The only consolation which they vouchsafed him, was in terms such as these:

'Do you feel sick--_very_ sick?'

'Very.' His face was the picture of an _emesis_ in embryo.

''Tis just what we want.'

The distressed man seemed to feel, gutturally, as if he could reject the comfort-drawing conclusion, _ab imo pectore_.

'Would you like to vomit?'

In the fulness of his stomach, he would have answered 'yes,' but restrained himself and his diaphragm after a moment's rumination.

'We don't want you to do that.'

'But I am exceedingly tired--wearied to death.'

'You will be better after it is over, my friend.'

'Give me a drink of water, doctor, for heaven's sake!'

'Take a little of this solution.'

'Do open the doors, and let in some air. I can hardly draw my breath.'

'Oh, never fear but you will breathe long enough.'

'I shall faint.'

'Faint away, and we shall soon have the bone in.'

'Doctor, _I can't stand it_!'

'Then _lay_ it, friend,' a favorite expression with one of the distinguished surgeons who officiated on this occasion.

'Wont you loosen these straps, only for a moment, so that I can rest my leg?'

'One minute, my good man,' continued the speaker, while with double vigor he reiterated his efforts to pry the bone into its cavity; 'bear it a little longer--one minute--there--bear it only a little while longer----'

'O, doctor, you will break my thigh! Doctor--doctor!'

'Don't be alarmed, my man; if I do I will set it again.'

'Let me have that rope!' he exclaimed, as he made violent efforts to spring up and catch the cord that was straining his sinews; efforts ten times more hopeless and unavailing than those of Milton's giant,

'Under the weight of mountains buried deep.'

'There, lie still; you must not exert yourself. Do not try to draw your thigh up; we will take care of that.' Let it go as if you had nothing to do with it. Mr. R----, lift up a little more, as you are a true surgeon.'

'Oh, I shall die!' gasped the cruciated wretch.

'My good friend, you came here to have your thigh put back in its place, and you must be patient. You cannot expect it to be returned without pain.'

'I know; but wait till to-morrow; or let me rest myself for an hour or two, and then I shall feel refreshed, and be better able to bear it.'

'You may go to sleep, if you wish, my good fellow. I should be glad to have you.'

'But he could not well go in stays,' observed one of the walkers, in a low tone, to his neighbor.

'The cord-drawer there should unlace,' replied the other. 'But he resembles an ox triced up to be shod, more than a lady in corsets.'

'That saying is rather too _ox-umorious_ for the occasion,' returned the éléve.

'Do you chew tobacco, my friend?' said the chief operator to the almost exhausted patient.

'I haven't chewed any lately,' he groaned.

'So much the better then. Mr. Aster, let me have a little out of your box. There--ah!'

'Here, my good man, take that,' he continued, presenting the grateful boon to the patient. 'Eat it: if you have not been accustomed to chewing, I am in hopes it will make you sick.'

This weed, it is known, produces the most deadly nausea and exhaustion in those not addicted to its use. It is customary to employ it in cases of this nature, where habit does not intervene, to incapacitate the patient for making any voluntary exertion in opposition to the extension, which purpose it answers even better than bleeding.

The occupation temporarily relieved him by changing the current of his thoughts, and he reclined in a state of utter listlessness and _évanouissement_, only interrupted by occasional retchings. The surgeons perceived the favorable opportunity; but the moment a movement was made to seize it, his muscles were on the alert, and it became a struggle between the unaided energies of a desperate man, and the mechanically-exerted force of an equally hardy but less excited opponent.

'Come, be calm, and do not strain so.'

'I can't help it!' The surgeons knew it.

'Whisper to him, Parcels,' said Aster, one of the junior assistants, who made his brightness particularly apparent in perpetrating puns upon the Roman vernacular, 'whisper him, by way of consolation and encouragement,

'Non, si male nunc, et olim
_Sic_ erit.'

'That is, I suppose, 'If you are ill now, it is no sign you will be sick by-and-by.''

'Yes; and nothing could be more inspiring.'

'Poor dog, it is true he is likely to be as much benefitted by that as any thing else; but I will not trifle with his sufferings, even in seeming.'

'_Cur_ nodus--why not? What will you do?'

'I will help, and then----'

'Soothe him by mild language. No, let Nature speak out her agony in his cries, and let the surgeon utter his sympathy as best becomes him, and as the welfare of his patient demands.'

'In jests?'

'In imperturbable coolness and decision: or, as you say, in jests; for what is comfort, under these circumstances, but a jest?'

'I think his system will not endure much more,' said Parcels.

'It is possible,' replied the walker.

He was a brave man, and even in this painful situation, he took what was offered him to increase his prostration; he chewed up a cigar, and gulped it down; he drank swallow after swallow of tartar-emetic solution, a most nauseating and relaxing preparation. But still, though deadly sick, the sweat pouring out of his forehead in clear drops, and though seemingly stretched, on this Procrustean bed, at least three inches beyond his natural stature, his muscles showed no disposition to relinquish their grasp upon the bone. The surgeons again and again exerted all their strength upon the passive and suspended limb, but it was without effect. They spoke a few words to each other, and at length concluded to remit the extension for a few minutes, in order to rest themselves.

It was, indeed, not only necessary for them, but for the man also, whose frame, it was justly feared, would not bear such unremitted torture. He seemed reprieved, in truth, by even the trifling respite that they granted him, and looked at the Herculean tar, (_that was_, before he became a nurse, thinking that his tender forces might be better exerted in the sick-room than on board a ship,) as, in obedience to orders, he walked up toward the slender and elegantly-wrought brass block, with steps that might have been impressed by an infant, which yielded only inch by inch the play that he had been so long and diligently accumulating upon the rope; he regarded him, I say, with a grim satisfaction, not unmixed with a tiger-like expression about the eyes and corners of the mouth, which bespoke any thing but pure and cordial affection.

But far from gaining the so much-coveted disenthralment, to the full of his desires, the cords were only partially slackened, and he was barely allowed to catch a glimpse of that freedom which would have been to him

----'Welcome as the hand
Of brother in a foreign land.'

He might have lain about as much at his ease as Satan on the fiëry plains of ----, when bethinking him of his late discomfiture, and planning new schemes of vengeance.

I had seen many operations and exhibitions; but in none that I assisted at, was I ever so struck with the utter inefficiency of the measures resorted to, which yet seemed all of the most appropriate and potential kind. I knew that there was no fault in the operation, and that every expedient was strictly in accordance with the rules.

'He bears that stretching well,' said Parcels, one of the young éléves. 'The dislocation must be into the ischiatic notch.'

'It is,' replied Berry. 'The thigh should be pulled up more. Rhodes, instead of sending you up there again, to straddle over this poor fellow, we'd better put you at the halyards, and let Featherbody mount the rostrum.'

'It will take nothing less than the devil or a handspike to lift it out. My handkerchief around the upper end of the thigh was a _point d'appui_ to the bodies of four mortal surgeons, and served as a pivot to balance two of them on his extremities, and two at his head.'

'Faith, you did resemble Jupiter, weighing the ponderous merits of the adverse parties; and 'long time in even scale the _doctors_ hung;' but ---- seemed inclined to kick the beam.'

'Do you observe,' said Berry, 'the doctor himself looks a little puzzled? J---- and D---- are no better off. I thought ---- would break the femur more than once.'

'That bone is just at this time encased in an impenetrable mail of rigid muscles. If you broke that, you would break an iron bar of equal size,' replied Parcels.

'In truth,' said Berry, 'the relaxing medicines and bleeding seem to have had little effect in weakening them. How much blood did you take, Parcels, before he was brought in?'

'Two pounds.'

'He has lost two here, and I should think he might spare a couple more.'

'Yes, and two more added to them, before the bone would be in its place,' remarked Parcels.

'You have no faith in nauseating mixtures, and debilitating remedies?'

'No. While they apparently reduce the strength, they seem not to take a whit from the power of the muscles to _resist_ extension.'

'You will certainly be expelled the church.'

'There is,' continued Parcels,'a kind of galvanism residing in the muscles, which emanates from the brain; and all bodily remedies, while they leave this organ in a state of intense action and excitement, can have no beneficial effect in subduing them.'

'Ego cycnus!' said Aster, in a kind of Latin, which must be taken literally to be understood, 'I swan! this is the most untractable member that ever came under my notice. We shall have to subscribe for a high-heeled boot for the other leg, if we carry this out much farther.'

'Another trial of doctoring, I think, will shortly break off the matter in debate,' observed Berry.

They now for a second time drew him into mid-air. The nurse, who had stood looking on with his hawk's eye, and wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand, while with the other he grappled the end of the pulley-rope, again applied his strength; the blocks drew nearer together; the surgeon, using the disjointed member for a lever, and his knee as a rest, exerted his whole force upon the limb, in one strong effort to pry it out; but it gave not, although it was anticipated that the bone might snap. The assistant upon the table, drawing upward with all his might, endeavored to entice (somewhat as the Irishman _remonstrated_) the upper end from its hiding-place. But it would have been easier, to all appearance, to have raised the world without Archimedes' fulcrum, than to have displaced this little globe from its new socket.

The surgeons regarded each other with evident indecision and inquietude, and began to remit or grow more abrupt in their exertions. The students looked incredulous, and exhibited a disposition to depart. But, resolved not to incur the mortification or disgrace of a failure, if it could be averted by any human means, the operators determined to carry their exertions, in a final attempt, as far as was consistent with the patient's safety. They loosed the bandages from the arms, and gave him an additional dose of the nauseating solution.

In this state of things, a young man leaped cautiously over the partition into the arena, stole his way unnoticed among the surgeons, and approaching the table stealthily, took from it a scalpel, or operating-knife, of large size. With this, passing in front of the man, he suddenly started up with it before his eyes, and seemed ready to plunge it into his body. As he made this gesture, the man roused up, in horror. Although pale from the loss of blood, he blanched still whiter, at this palpable demonstration of a design to slay him.

'It is necessary, my friend,' said the young man, steadily and clearly, 'to cut down to your back-bone, in order to get out the head of the thigh-bone, which is lodged there!'

Who can tell the terror that filled the sufferer's excited imagination, during the utterance of this awful ultimatum! 'The sense of death is most in apprehension;' and in the horror of that moment, he felt with King John:

'The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd,
And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou see'st is but a clod!'

The ready éléve now made as if he was about to lay open the bowels of the patient, at a single rash stroke, from the stomach to the hip. Every arm was raised to arrest him; but taken as they were by surprise, he had ample time to execute his purpose. Leaning over and pressing his hand upon the side of the abdomen, he drew the knife rapidly and violently along its naked surface, from one extremity to the other. Then hastily rising, and throwing the knife on the bloody floor, he darted from the midst of the attendants; contriving, in the course of the action, to cover up with a corner of the blanket the work he had committed.

The patient, who had at first struggled, sank back; the spectators ran to his side; the students started from their seats; and _the bone slipped into its place, with an audible 'click!'_ They hurriedly drew off the blanket from the patient's body, when lo! there was no wound! They went up to his side, and endeavored to arouse him from his stupor, and make him sensible that he was not hurt. In this they soon succeeded. The straps, pullies, and bandages were undone, and he was laid at length upon the table.

The young operator had well observed the powerfully depressing effect of fear on the human system, and had been incited to the ingenious expedient just described, by witnessing the obstinacy with which the bone had resisted all the measures for its reduction. In a few days the patient recovered entirely from his fright, and was seen walking about the halls of the hospital.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] THE writer passed a few of the first years of his practice in the hospital of ----. While in this institution, he had, as house-surgeon, opportunities of becoming acquainted with the history of cases, and of attending and assisting in a great number of highly interesting operations, many of them perfectly unique in their character, and performed by individuals among the most distinguished in this branch of the profession. To the general reader, the mere technical narration of incidents of this nature would present but a mass of dry and unintelligible jargon. One, however, who has for some time voluntarily withdrawn himself from the active duties of the profession, to follow another pursuit, may be regarded, perhaps, as capable of portraying, with truth and clearness, the vivid scenes of his earlier years.

THE ANNIVERSARY.

BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, ENGLAND.

I.

A YEAR hath lingered through its round,
Since thou wert with the dead;
And yet my bosom's cureless wound
Still bleeds as then it bled.
All now without is cold and calm;
Yet o'er my heart its healing balm
Oblivion will not shed:
If day beguiles my fond regret,
Night comes--and how can I forget?

II.

For mute are then the sounds of mirth
I loathe, yet cannot flee;
And thoughts in solitude have birth,
That lead me back to thee.
By day, amid the busy herd,
My soul is like the captive bird
That struggles to be free;
It longs to leave a world unblest,
To 'flee away and be at rest!'

III.

Rest! how, alas! shall mortal dare
Of rest on earth to dream?
The heritage of ceaseless care
May better far beseem
The child of grief, the heir of wo;
And what if mutual love may throw
A joy-imparting beam
On life's wide waste?--'t is quickly gone,
And he must wander on--alone!

IV.

It was no charm of face or mien,
That linked my heart to thee;
For many fairer have I seen,
And fairer yet may see:
It was a strong though nameless spell,
Which seemed with thee alone to dwell,
And this remains to me,
And will remain: thy form is fled,
But this can e'en recall the dead.

V.

Thine image is before me now,
All angel as thou art;
Thy gentle eye and guileless brow,
Are graven on my heart;
And when on living forms I gaze,
Mem'ry the one loved form portrays;
Ah! would it ne'er depart!
And they alone are fair to me,
Who wake a livelier thought of thee.

VI.

Oft, too, the fond familiar sound
Is present to mine ear;
I seem, when all is hushed around,
Thy thrilling voice to hear.
Oh! could I dream thou still wert nigh,
And turn as if to breathe reply,
The waking how severe!
When on the sickening soul must press
The sense of utter loneliness!

VII.

A year hath pass'd!--another year
Its wonted round may run;
Yet earth will still be dark and drear,
As when its course begun.
I would not murmur or repine,
Yet, though a thousand joys were mine,
I still should sigh for ONE;
How could I think of her who died,
And taste of joy from aught beside!

VIII.

Yes, dearest! though that treasured love
Now casts a gloom o'er all,
Thy spirit from its rest above
I would not yet recall:
My earthly doom thou canst not share,
And I in solitude must bear
Whate'er may still befal;
But I can share thy home, thy heaven,
All griefs forgot, all guilt forgiven!

LOVE AND REASON.

GENTLE Lady! thy smile as the starlight is fair,
And thine eyes are as charming as ever they were;
And thy voice is the same as that love-breathing tone
Which once whispered _my_ name in this bower alone;
But since then, that sweet voice, in this bower of thine,
Hath whispered _another's_ as fondly as mine!

You remember the vow which you made me at eve,
When together we swore in one faith to believe;
You remember the stars that looked on from above,
And how sweetly you called them 'the sentries of love!'
Those stars, thou false maiden! were shining that hour,
When I heard that strange name in this very same bower!

Perhaps you then thought it a very good game,
To sigh to one lover, till the other one came:
And now I remember, I once heard you own
That you never _could_ sit in this bower alone;
'And so I could not,' quoth the maid, with a sneer,
'So I talked to my parrot, as _you_ were not here!'

AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES.

NUMBER TWO.

----'Amidst ruins; there to track
Fall'n states and buried greatness o'er a land
Which _was_ the mightiest in its old command,
And _is_ the loveliest.'

BYRON.

IN our first number, we introduced the reader to the magnificent ruins of a once great and populous city, in the Province of Chiapa, Central America. It was thought, it will be remembered, that a description of the present state of the Palencian metropolis, the character of the people who inhabited it, and the extraordinary arts by which both were distinguished, should precede other facts and conclusions, in relation to the early history of the American continent. Reasons for this will have been apparent, we trust, in the opinions expressed of the peculiarities and great antiquity of the Tultecan people. The advanced state of knowledge to which that people had arrived, at a very remote period of time, and the subsequent connection which will appear to have existed between them and that distinct class of mankind--which, at a much later, yet still very distant date, occupied the great western valleys of the United States--also require of us an early and more particular reference, in again calling attention to the subject under consideration.

A brief notice of one or two of the ancient Palencian edifices, among the few that have come down to us in the form and feature of their primitive greatness, cannot fail to interest the lovers of the antique and the curious:

----'There is a power
And magic in the ruined battlement,
For which the palace of the present hour
Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.'

The principal structure referred to, and with which it has been supposed all the others were connected, in purpose at least, if not by subterranean or other passages, presents a style of architecture resembling the gothic. It is rude, massive, and durable. As a whole, it has an appearance not unlike that of the ancient Egyptian edifices; still it is peculiar, and differs from all others hitherto known. The world nowhere exhibits the same striking characteristics, among the remains of ancient art and early genius; nor can we trace in any other structures the same peculiarities of arrangement and apparent adaptation. The great permanency of the fourteen stone buildings, standing, even to this late day, sufficiently attest their superior style and workmanship. They are called by the people _Cassas de Piédras_, or stone houses. Buildings of the same kind, now found in other parts of Guatemala and in Yucatan, some of which are of immense size, and of the same architectural style, are similarly named. There seems to be but one general tradition in relation to the character of the people who constructed these great and strong buildings; and we are led to infer from their internal structure and arrangement, as well as from all that can be learned from the traditions of the natives, that the principal ones were erected for like purposes, viz: for temples of worship, and for the residences of kings. The great building at Palenque was undoubtedly built for the former purpose, and occupied, from time immemorial, by numerous priests devoted to religious ceremonies.

'But thou, of temples old or altars new,
Standest alone, with nothing like to thee!'

The entrance to the Palencian temple is on the east side, by a portico more than one hundred feet in length, and nine feet broad. This portico is supported by plain rectangular pillars, without pedestals, fifteen inches in diameter. On these are laid smooth square stones, one foot in thickness, which form an achitrave. These blocks are nearly covered with stucco-work of shields, etc. On each pillar, and running from one to another, rest also plain rectangular blocks of stones, five feet long, and six feet broad. Vestiges of heads, and various other designs in stucco, are discovered on these blocks; and on the internal side, are seen numerous busts, representing, without doubt, a series of kings. Between these, there is a range of windows, along the entire length of the building, some of which are square, and others in the form of the Greek cross. Beyond the corridor, is a square court, which is approached by a series of seventeen steps. The north side of the building, though in ruins, shows very distinctly that it had a corridor and a chamber, like the other three sides. There are four chambers, with two windows on the south side: the east and west sides are alike, except in the devices. On the west side is seen a mask, with a crown, and a long beard, and under these are two Greek crosses. These specimens of workmanship resemble Roman sculpture, particularly that of Jupiter. The mask may be supposed to represent some of the deities worshipped in the temple; and very probably that of _Quetralcoatl_, the god of the air, and a favorite deity, as will hereafter appear.

Proceeding forward, we are ushered into another large court, similar in size and appearance to the last mentioned, having a passage around it. In this are two chambers, and an interior gallery, which looks into a great court-yard on one side, and over the adjacent country, on the other. Pillars adorn the gallery, on either side, exhibiting numerous and ingenious specimens of sculptured art. The purposes to which it was devoted, are satisfactorily explained by the character of the designs here represented; and, like all the other apartments, it may be presumed to have had a distinct and peculiar use. None, however, would seem to have had a more melancholy appropriation. Though the character of this people was mild and peaceful, yet it can hardly be supposed that, in the earliest conditions of human society, some rude and barbarous customs should not have prevailed. As with individual character, all improvements in the manners and customs of a people must be the result of experience. Hence the disgust which we feel in view of the practices of many ancient nations is not always a just estimate of the real character of that people; for they may not be more abhorrent to us, than our own may appear to those of succeeding ages. It will be understood that we allude to human sacrifices. There are, in fact, in this gallery, numerous relievos, which are supposed to represent sacrifices of the people, or of their enemies, to the manes of their favorite deities. Some of these, with others of the finest specimens of sculpture found in the building, have been mutilated or removed, and afterward conveyed to Spain, where, in all probability, they will prove of little advantage to antiquarian literature.

In the large open court before mentioned, within the centre of the temple, there is a high tower, now having four stories, to which there was, in ages past, a fifth, surmounted by a cupola; all making in height from sixty to seventy feet. The design and execution of this tower indicate great skill and ingenuity. Within it was another, having windows facing those in the exterior tower, which were intended to afford light to a series of steps leading to the top. The interior tower was plain, while the outer one was in a true and tasteful style of architecture. The principal entrance to these sacred and lofty structures, is on the north side, but the passages to both towers are now entirely filled up by fallen rubbish of stones, gravel, etc. On the south side of the building, and behind four small chambers, are two very large apartments, supposed to have been used as oratorios. These are richly ornamented, with figures in stucco, some of which are beautifully enamelled. In these rooms are numerous statues, placed along their sides, and also several Grecian heads, which were, undoubtedly, of a sacred character. They were variously ornamented with strings of jewels, which had been offered them, it may be supposed, by the people in their devotional exercises. Behind these oratorios, are still two other apartments, each of which is eighty feet in length, and nine in width, extending from north to south. Here was discovered one of the most singular and perfect specimens of sculpture yet found among the ruins of this vast city. It was one of the people's gods astride an animal. From the drawing taken of this, it is unquestionably an admirably-executed relic. The proportions are most perfect throughout, and indicative of a knowledge of the art, vastly superior to that of any ancient barbarous nation. The origin of this knowledge we are at a loss to conjecture. The animal is descriptive of the American lion, which was less powerful than either the African or Asiatic, and without a mane. The same animal is represented in some of the other apartments. From the position of the idol, it is inferred that it was worshipped as a river-god, as with the Hindoos. Indeed, in referring hereafter to the probable origin of these arts, it will be seen that similar deities were worshipped by the latter people. Analogous arts and customs will also be traced to various other nations. One of these apartments contains an elliptical stone, inserted in the wall, below which there is a plain rectangular block of stone, six feet in length, three in breadth, and seven inches thick, standing upon four feet, in the form of a table, with bas-relief figures supporting it. Numerous characters, or symbols, adorn the edges of this table, all of which had, without doubt, a significant meaning; but all knowledge of that meaning, which might now be turned to a good account, in deciphering the character and customs of the ancient occupants of this singular temple, is entirely lost; and, unless some fortunate discovery should be made, will ever remain uninterpreted. The various other hieroglyphics and symbolical designs will also, we fear, continue to be a sealed book to the antiquarian.

At the end of one of these apartments, is an opening through the stone pavement, six feet long and three broad, conducting, by a flight of stone steps, to extensive subterranean apartments. These steps have, at regular intervals, large flat landings, in each of which are openings or doorways, to other and continuous ranges of stone steps. All of these landings were curiously ornamented with sculpture work. There were several other avenues to this principal underground passage, most of which were blocked up by crumbling fragments. It is however possible, that these avenues may lead to other apartments, or, not improbably, to the other and neighboring buildings; a fact strongly suspected, both from the use to which the subterranean apartments were appropriated, and the character of their occupants. At the second landing and doorway, torch-light is required, after which the regular stairways conduct, by a gradual descent, to the great subterranean rooms. From each landing, the explorer turns to the succeeding flight of steps, until he arrives within the gloomy chambers below, to which he is admitted by a large stone door. The first room is one hundred and ninety-two feet in length! Beyond this is another chamber, of the same dimensions, which looks toward the south, by means of windows, commanding a corridor running to the extreme of the building. In these rooms are found plain horizontal stones, seven and a half feet long, by three feet three inches wide, standing upon four wrought pedestals, about two feet from the ground. These are portioned off in the form of alcoves; and hence are supposed to have been used by the priests of the temple as places for sleeping.

The accompanying outline illustration of this temple is a hasty sketch of the side partly in ruins, and is intended to show, to the best advantage, the form and general appearance of the exterior. We have by us a ground-plan, or diagram of the internal structure, which may be given on another occasion. This view will be seen to present the upper portion of the most curious and important structure yet discovered, viz., the tower, where it is supposed were preserved, with great care and veneration, the ashes of the Tultecan kings. Attempts to reach parts of these singular structures (for there were two, one within the other,) were unavailing. The avenue leading within the internal one, to the summit, is now blocked up by broken fragments and earth. Trees are to be seen growing firmly upon the towers. The entrance was on the north side, but this is now filled with heaps of rubbish. This tower exhibits far more ingenuity and good taste, than any thing yet remaining of the Tultecan buildings. Another drawing, which represents the entire external tower, with trees standing upon various projecting parts, is in course of execution.

Leaving this edifice, with the present slight description, and proceeding southerly to another, standing on an eminence one hundred and twenty feet high, the same massive and peculiar style of architecture is observed. This building is in the form of a parallelogram. It has square pillars, an exterior gallery, and a saloon sixty feet long, by ten and a half broad. This room has a large frontispiece, on which are executed, in stucco relief, female figures, with children in their arms, all of the natural size, but without heads! On each side of the doors leading to the gallery, and on each wall, there are three stones, nine feet in height, and three feet broad, all of which are covered with bas-relief and hieroglyphic figures. None of these ingeniously-executed specimens of art afford a solitary ray of light by which to arrive at their meaning, and a better knowledge of the people by whom they were executed. The gallery is paved throughout with smooth and well-fitted stones. Parts of the building are in ruins; and, in proceeding from it, masses of other ruins are seen; which lead to the conclusion that they are the remains of edifices once connected with it.

Passing on a short distance, in a southerly direction, through a small valley, another building is entered by a flight of steps leading to a gallery and a saloon, similar to those we have noticed in the other edifices. At the door of this saloon, are to be seen numerous allegorical ornaments, in stucco work, which, like the others, surprise us by their curious and grotesque character, but which yield us no additional information in regard to their origin or design. At the east of this building, three others are discovered, situated on high triangular mounds. These are small, and nearly square, being fifty-four feet long, by thirty-three feet broad. They present the same antique style of architecture, but have roofings, or turrets, covered with various ornaments and devices, in stucco. One of these has a gallery, much decayed, at the end of which is a saloon, with a chamber at each extremity. In the centre of the saloon is an oratory, nine feet square, with a stone at each entrance, having upon it a bas-relief figure of a man in full length. Other curious figures are to be seen on various stones in this room. The stone pavement is smooth, and admirably matched. This being perforated, and a hole made about eighteen inches in diameter, a round earthen vessel was discovered, one foot in size, cemented to another of the same dimension and quality. Pursuing the excavation, a circular stone was met with, which, on removal, presented a circular cavity containing a _lance_, made of flint, two small pyramids, and the figure of a _heart_, made of crystallized stone, called by the natives _challa_. Two other small jars, with covers, were found, containing a ball of vermilion, etc. Near the entrance to this oratory, in another cavity, was also discovered small jars, with similar contents. It is presumed that this place was devoted to the remains and memorials of heroes, and those who had distinguished themselves in the public service, and that the bas-reliefs and inscriptions were intended to commemorate their names and exploits. These relics, so securely deposited beneath the stone pavement, whether private relics of individuals, or supposed to have been possessed of some remarkable properties, sufficiently prove, by the situation in which they were found, that they were held sacred by the people, or the priests of the temples.

Two other buildings, examined, have the same architectural character, and are divided in a similar manner, the bas-reliefs only being different. In one of these, and under the stone pavement of an oratory, were found the same flint, lance, conical pyramids, heart, and jars; and in another was also found articles of the same character, which, with various bas-reliefs, etc., were removed. It has been thought, from some similarity in the workmanship of these fragments of art to those of the Phoenicians, Greeks, and Romans, that they were derived from the people of those nations. The same analogous character has been remarked in the various specimens of art found elsewhere in this once renowned city, as we shall have occasion to show, in speaking of the stupendous aqueducts, fortifications, etc., to be seen in various other parts of this once populous place.

In digging near these buildings, a great variety of other articles were found, which, with specimens of bricks, mortar, etc., have been removed. The remainder of the fourteen edifices do not differ materially from those described; while some of them, as may be imagined, have suffered much from the effects of time, and are now crumbling amid the sea of ruins. Why, indeed, these have baffled the effects of untold ages, and come down to us as trophies of human art, while far and near is only to be seen a general wreck of matter, it is impossible to say. The probability that they were erected and used for sacred purposes, may afford us reasonable grounds for the inference, that they were either more securely built, or that, if the causes which depopulated this vast city, arose from the ravages of a victorious enemy, their hallowed character preserved them from the hand of the spoiler. Time, and the researches of the anxious antiquarian, may disclose the causes which stripped the city of its splendor, and of its innumerable inhabitants; a circumstance much to be desired by the curious and the learned. This inquiry, in fact, is the first that suggests itself to the reader, or the observer. What could have swept so many human beings from this immensely populous city? Was it some fatal pestilence, that suddenly blotted from existence two millions of people? Did some awful convulsion of nature crush, by one overwhelming shock, all the magnificent fabrics that, for sixty miles around, adorned the plain? Or did some rude and exasperated foe, of countless numbers, fall upon the devoted city, exterminate its population, and lay its beauty and greatness in undistinguishable ruins? These are questions which naturally and irresistibly present themselves at this view of our subject; but they are those to which no satisfactory solution can yet be given. From some data within our reach, there are afforded reasons for concluding, that a fearful and destructive pestilence once devastated this fair land, and swept off its previously happy inhabitants by one common death; while there are others, said to be derived from an authentic source--the records of the people themselves, preserved from the general wreck of arts, and inscribed upon tablets--which go to prove that a great proportion of the people were destroyed by the most painful and wretched of deaths, _famine_. The latter, we are of the opinion, has the better claim to truth. There are also reasons for believing, that a neighboring enemy, powerful and barbarous, rushed down upon this quiet people from the north, and drove them from their magnificent city. Of the inhabitants of this wild and savage nation, who, like the Goths and Vandals in overrunning the south of Europe, came rushing upon southern cultivated plains--as in all ages of the world they are found to have done--we shall also have occasion to speak more at length. Like the people of other remote nations, it will be seen, likewise, that the most desperate and bloody struggles were here carried on, the particulars of which are preserved; and, not being generally known, will be found to possess deep interest, and to be in no respect behind those recorded of the most extraordinary of ancient eastern nations. The interest of these particulars will be much enhanced, by the connections which may be traced between the original inhabitants of the United States and those of Central America. Whether the Palencians themselves were ever engaged in deadly strife with northern barbarous people, save, perhaps, on the occasion of their being suddenly driven from their great city, remains a matter of doubt. This is considered improbable, however, from the fact that no warlike implement has yet been discovered among the ruins of the Tultecan city. And a very extraordinary fact it is, that this people had no knowledge of the use of iron; nor had they for mechanical, domestic, or warlike purposes, a solitary iron implement! The question, we are aware, will immediately suggest itself: 'How, then, did these people rear those mighty superstructures--ay, even a whole city, surpassing all others in extent, and that, too, of hewn stone, admirably fitted throughout--if they had no knowledge of iron tools?' Such was, nevertheless, the fact. The people to whom we refer, as having been engaged with surrounding nations, in long and destructive warfare, were the descendants of the primitive Tultecans, or those of their successors, the Aztiques, while the most ancient occupants of this continent, the ingenious builders of, and quiet residents within, the Palencian city, were insulated, for ages, from all other people of the earth.

The first narrative of observations made among the ruins at Palenque, to which we have referred, were mysteriously withheld from the public for nearly forty years. After having been written out by the explorer, in conformity with public orders, it can only be supposed that the extraordinary facts communicated by him exceeded belief, or that, if thought true, and they should be made public, they would induce visits from strangers which might be annoying to the Spanish authorities. Visitants from foreign countries would thus become acquainted with the internal policy, the tyrannical misrule of the government over the virtuous natives, and with the natural resources of their rich and extensive country. For these, or other reasons past conjecture, the description of the ruined city was suppressed; and it remained secreted in a convent at Guatemala, from 1786 to 1822, when, after the revolution in that ill-fated country, it was discovered thus hidden, by a foreign traveller, taken to London and published in the above last-mentioned year. Copies of this work have for many years been extremely scarce in London. To the particulars there made known were added an ingenious and learned treatise by a distinguished Catholic priest upon the origin of the Tultecan people, with many other highly interesting facts and speculations connected therewith.

This subject has since received enthusiastic attention from several individuals, whose names have been mentioned. It was from having been employed to engrave the illustrations of the above work, that Waldrick, the most indefatigable of them all, was induced to cross the Atlantic for the purpose of visiting the ruins himself. Particulars respecting the adventures and researches of this devoted man, during twelve years' seclusion among the ruins; the base and outrageous robbery committed upon him, 'by order of the Mexican government,' in wresting from his possession all the valuable drawings that he had been for years employed in making; together with other facts and illustrations collected by other adventurous inquirers; the records of the arts, the singular dresses, hieroglyphics, symbols, and particularly the great Teöculi, and other immense structures, will follow, in order of time and place.

'Ages and realms are crowded on this span,
This mountain, whose obliterated plan
The pyramids of ages pinnacled.'

From the hasty sketch here given of these remarkable people and their structures, it will be seen, that comparatively little attention was given to them by the Spanish government, or their agents. This is justly attributable to the well-known suspicion and habitual indolence of both the authorities and their subjects, either of which, on a topic like this, stamps them with disgrace, in the opinion of all enlightened men. The government itself seems not to have been satisfied with the account given of these extensive ruins by Del Rio; for, in 1805, Charles V. despatched a Captain Dupaix on the same duties; since which, two other voyages have been undertaken, by the same enterprising explorer, for the like purpose; and now, the accounts of this individual constitute the best we have of the ancient Palencian city. They were published in France about a year since, and form, with the accompanying splendid illustrations, an expensive and voluminous work. It was from this work that Lord Kingsbury gleaned the materials for his still more costly, but, it need not be said, less valuable, work. The sole effort of the noble lord, in this ponderous treatise, is to prove that the people of whom we have been speaking, were none other than the _nine-and-a-half lost tribes of the house of Israel_; an effort contributing as little to truth as it does to the establishment of his absurd theory. It will appear a matter of surprise, to every impartial inquirer, and to those at all acquainted with the facts in the case, that such an opinion has been endorsed by others: but it might be stated, that the character, not less than the expense, of the book in question, will effectually preclude it from general perusal. We shall elsewhere state the curious facts on which this theory is based; one of which, we may remark, _en passent_, is, that the temple, of which we have given a partial description, closely resembles the far-famed temple of Solomon, a fact which, though not denied, proves nothing, abstractly. Reasons exist why this isolated truth cannot be made available in a hypothesis so plainly opposed to the first principles of physiology, not to say probability. Whatever theory men may devise, to account for the origin of the Tultecans--and there have been others not less crude and chimerical than this--it is philosophically true, that they differed from all others in those distinguishing characteristics which have ever been assumed as the criteria of distinct species of men. The accompanying representation, which is an exact copy, shows in a striking manner the peculiar form of the Tultecan head, and the curious symbolical designs with which they are generally ornamented. The peculiar physiognomy of this people is not less forcibly delineated in the drawing. Both the characteristic conformation of the head and facial outline is preserved in all the specimens of sculpture hitherto found. In connection with the Tultecan peculiarities alluded to, those of their dress were not less remarkable. These, if we except perhaps the sandals worn on their feet, exhibit a strange combination of splendor, ingenuity, and oddness. So unlike were they to those of any other nation, that we can perceive no reason for supposing them derived from any prëexistent people. They were so designed and executed, as to represent the most notable data in individual and national history. This may be seen in the form and embellishments of their dress, as sculptured, and evidently described by phonetic characters, upon the various tablets found among the ruins of Tulteca. Curiously interwoven, and yet highly ornamental, are the personal achievements, civil records, and religious faith, supposed to appear in the paraphernalia of their habiliments; and these are observable in the head-dress represented below. Some, however, were much more complicated, and when exhibited on solemn religious occasions, as at the great annual ceremony on the plains of Cholula, in all the varieties of form and gorgeousness of coloring, and, as it is supposed, by millions of people at once, presented, altogether, the most grand and imposing spectacle the world has ever witnessed.

It may in truth be affirmed, that in no people have distinctive characteristics been more apparent, and more clearly defined. For the present, therefore, they must stand by themselves as a part of the human family; and they should be treated as a distinct and peculiar race of men. This fact gives to our subject, as before remarked, a romantic and unique character. Finding this people, as we do, so far advanced in a knowledge of the useful and ornamental arts as to preclude any rational inferences in respect to their derivation from previously extant people, and so completely and so widely detached, in a geographical point of view, from all other nations, bearing resemblance in their arts, their social institutions, and in many striking physical peculiarities, as to afford no plausible theory by which to trace their oriental connections, we are left entirely disenthralled from speculative opinions; and, hereafter, we may be allowed to dwell upon novel and animating truths, without being warped by prejudice, or swayed by conjecture.

VIVE LA BAGATELLE.