THE ESSAYIST. ON WINE. Ir the drunken divinity were really such as he is painted by his votaries, if the rosy bunch not only exhilarated but improved the appearance, if the potent draught not only inspired wit, but stimulated benevolence, I certainly should double my dose daily; but I have seen too many of my friends fall off prematurely from life, and fade and wither in its prime, from a too great indulgence in the pleasures of the bottle, to be deceived by the fervid descriptions of festivity. There is certainly a moment in the hour of conviviality most delicious, it is that, when confidence is inspired, and when friendship and brotherhood are moved up to the highest pitch, but the moment after may be fraught with peril-this circumstance makes me cry incessantly at the banquet, Quo me Bacche rapis?-HORAT. I do not add tui plenum. But whither indeed? might have said the young votaries of Bacchus, with whom I fell in accidentally in my travels. To what regretful lengths the consequences of the scene I witnessed might have led, it is fearful to think; I shall always rejoice at its happy termination; but before I go into detail, I must arrive regularly and methodically at the period and place (a thing which I do not always do), and I must conduct my reader politely by the hand with me. I fell into On my arrival at company with some spirited youths, whose years and habits were not exactly suited to mine, but who are worthy creatures, not yet arrived at the season of reflection. The bottle circulated so freely after dinner, that I thought prudent to slip out and to retire to my apartment. I at first took up a book, but my eyes grew very soon fatigued; the evening was calm, but there was a slight breeze that seemed to murmur through the atmosphere, and induced a pleasing melancholy what would I have given for the mellifluous vocal strains which are heard in Italy; or the distant notes of the clarionet and flute ringing in a wood, or conveyed nearer and nearer to the enchanted ear on the water, that I might say with the unrivalled master of the passions, the immortal Shakspeare: "As when the winds and harp-strings meet.'' I had not long enjoyed the calm, like gilded dream which the soft music flung over my senses, when a most harsh and dis cordant noise, and the jarring tones of riot What a scene for a sober rational man to witness! what a pandemonium had this jovial circle turned to! Here were the worst of passions let loose, tilting and warring together; anger, hatred, revenge, cruelty, irreligion, madness and self-destruction. In the place of these (when I left the room,) mirth, harmony, love, friendship, disinterestedness, fun, frolic, and generosity were all afloat; hand was linked to hand, heart grappled to heart, wit ran its merry round, and universal benevolence seemed to glide on with the generous purple tide, extracted Now was the cup from the mellow grape. empoisoned with bitterness, the potent draught had brought on delirium, whilst the fire kindled in youthful veins, seemed to engender death. One was hoarse with abuse, a second speechless with rage, another stamped like an incurable frantic, the last was sunk in despair! Of what damnable materials must that fluid he composed, that could work such extensive and powerful mischief; yet it was from its excess and My Eolian harp was in the room; I un-abuse, not from its use, that these deadly packed it, and enjoyed its soothing notes, those matchless sounds which Lord Byron has in a manner embodied, by describing a harmony -sitting on a bank, effects flowed. I had no small difficulty in separating the combatants, aided by the waiter and the youth who was melted and subdued by wine; it was not without some danger that I put a stop to that state of things, of which it might be said contention like a horse, Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him." sleep; that the acid of a third makes men cross and disputative; and the alcohol of a fourth creates fever and insanity; some receive slow poison in the cup; others are speedily drugged to madness. These re individuals, from the years of my being at college to my present wintry season, the excess of passion in some, the rage for gaming in others, the taste for destruction (windows, glasses, scattering of money included,) in one man, the proneness to ofI had to throw inyself between the hostile fensive language and pugilism in another, parties, to soothe, to flatter, to promise to the morbid disgusting appearance of a third, return, to dissemble, to reproach; nay, the ungovernable wildness of a fourth, addeven to pretend to enter into the feelings of ed to the loss of power, mind, and expresthese madmen, and, on getting possession of sion, the torpor of somnolency, and all the their arms, to assure them that I would go long train of other evils, I am induced to out with them in the morning. What an think that liquor, like medicine which is inhuman night for them to pass! restless designed to revive and comfort, to remove and inflamed, or seemingly dead and sub- debility and to banish low spirits, must posdued by the weight of intoxication; the sess infinitely more deleterious compounds light of reason, man's chief boast, extin- and bad qualities than we are aware of; guished for the time, and man, the image of that one ingredient produces sickness and his Lord and Maker, degraded below the nausea; another brings on stupidity and brute creation! What an awakening for gentlemen and friends! Sorrow, regret, alarm, and murderous purpose, all contend ing for exclusive dominion in their minds. But I was early at the bedside of each, and, by the most conciliating conduct and gentle flections are enough to make a weak man expressions of which I was master, by become a water drinker all at once; but changing the cruel features of the case, he who knows how to govern his appetites, glossing over high provocation, explaining will distinguish betwixt the use and the away intended insults, softening coarse abuse of benefits. epithets and base expressions, and by reminding each of the former friendship and intimacy of all, added to the assurance of my conviction, that the opposite parties were equally brave and incapable of giving offence, or of departing from the lines and limits of gentlemanlike behaviour, I finally succeeded in effecting a cordial, sincere, and unqualified reconciliation, with no arriere pensee, no acid reminiscence, and with a manly shame for the past, and a warm assurance of more prudence for the future. I did not fail to hint how scandalous such affairs were on the continent, how much all the polished part of Europe considered inebriety as the vice of the lowest of the low, and concluded by laying great blame on the liquor itself, which was a palatable remark to my young friends. But what was the mighty cause of this total dereliction of all the duties of humanity? a dispute about filling a bumper to a silly toast, an assertion that it was overflowing, a counter assertion that there was day-light in the glass, a peremptory order to bathe the brim, a stubborn refusal to obey: an observation that such conduct was not like that of a gentleman, a sneering taunt or provocative to repeat those words again, a surly repetition. accented without reflection, the lie given and a call for slaughter. Is it possible for any thing to be more irrational, more transgressive of all the laws of order and decorum? When I recollect the different effects which I have seen liquor produce on divers A MAID TO HER LOVER. LOVE. Where is the heart that has not bow'd Look on the cold, the gay, the proud, All passion's fiery depths concealing, FOR THE ten have his parents and we, even when you NEW-YORK LITERARY GAZETTE. were lisping infants, spoken of this, and TALES FROM CROSSBASKET. By Francis Topic. THE BRIDAL EVE. looked upon you as two sweet roses ripening on one stem, and marked you budding into worth and loveliness. If you think of my peace, if the happiness of your old parents weigh with you, Helen, you will marry Donald." The earnest and affectionate tone in which WHEN Helen entered the cottage, the the mother spoke, touched Helen to the watchful mother, careful of her daughter's heart: to think how strongly her own soul peace, questioned her: "Where have you was knit with Donald's, and to know how been, Helen ?" said she. "I must inquire, much the "old folks" desired the match, for your cheek is flushed, a tremor is spread-produced feelings which she could not coming through your whole frame, your eyes mand, and the mother mingled her tears of are beaming with tears-though not of sor-joy with the daughter's. row, and there is something in your air that The father was now heard on the threshbespeaks your mind full. Have you some-old, and, as he raised the latch, Helen dartthing to tell me? I know you have. Where ed to her own apartment, and spent the have you been?" night in all the dreams such happy love could inspire. "I have been taking a walk with Donald Campbell along the shore." "What did he say ?" "That he was going to leave us to-morrow." "You do not seem sorry: did he tell you aught to make you happy? "Yes-he asked me if I would be-but, do not question me more, mother; I cannot speak all he said." She replied thus, and blushing, turned her head away. The skilful eye of the mother watched her daughter, and in her voice and gesture read all that Helen could have spoken.Yet, not satisfied with that, she said, "You do not mean to leave us too, Helen? You are my only child; think you not, I would be lonely and comfortless without you?" "I told him that, mother-but he will speak to you himself." "Perhaps you do not love him, Helen, and told him so." "No, no, mother; you taught me never to speak what my heart did not feel; and I could not but respect him whom you hare cherished so much, and praised so often." The old man entered with joyful step and smiling face he had spent the evening with Donald's parents, and there had heard the happy news which Helen had just told. This was an era in their lives, gladder and brighter than the hour they were betrothed themselves, and it exceeds my power of description to do their feelings the justice they deserve. The morning came-and the hour of departure approached. Donald stole a moment to tell his Helen how soon he would return, and to beg her to fix the bridal day at an early period. She spoke not, but bound around his tartan black-plumed bonnet a braid of her flaxen ringlets, and her expressive eyes told what her tongue could not, "wear it for my sake." His dog Towler, that noble animal, as if he knew Helen was intended for his future mistress, which before had kept at a distance, now advanced, and fawned about the lovely girl, scarce less lovely than his master. He was a brave dog, and showed signs of feeling and of knowledge, and had performed exploits, that would have told well in "L'Histoire des chiens celebres." "Yes, my dear Helen, of all the village lads, he is my favorite, and I would rather see you wed him, than the proud Duke him- Lord John was on the pier, where the self. His parents have shown him a good wherry was moored, with his lovely wife example, and will leave him a good name.' ." and his retinue. Donald could not delay; "But, I cannot leave thee, mother," said he encircled Helen's finger with a ring, and Helen : "he will live far over on the other pressed her to his breast. A murmur of shore; and were I gone, you would have farewell,' was heard from Helen's voice of none to help or comfort you. When he is music, and a tear sat like a diamond on her gone, I can love him with a sister's love, as now wan cheek. Donald saw her emotion, I have always done, and still be your daugh- and breathed out a word of comfort: he turnter." ed and brushed away a tear which stained his manliness, and his look spoke what the congenial soul could well interpret-he snatched a kiss, and hurried to the shore. "To see you, Helen," spoke the affectionate mother, "happy with Donald, will compensate for every loss: let me tell you now, what I could not before, that my fondest anticipations have been to see you his wife, and when you are, I have nothing more in this world to wish for. O! how of Helen, with grief and loneliness of heart saw the villagers assembled around the wherry, but her feelings being so different from theirs, she could not mingle with the careless farewells of the multitude her sighs. There is a feeling in the virtuous, which holds the latest farewell, the last sigh and parting look of the beloved, so sacred and so valuable, they cannot brook to have the callous gaze on them, fearful lest they might be robbed of half its luxury. The wherry now spread her sails before a prosperous breeze, and gallantly braved the billows. Many a blessing was asked for the voyagers, and many a lip kissed the hand which was outstretched as if to send a protecting charm to them. Towler, the faithful animal, was seen to cast a look behind, and seemed to know, with as much consciousness as his master, that he was leaving the "bonny Ardentine." The wherry, as she bounded away, grew smaller and smaller in the distance: now no living thing could be discerned in herthe hull seemed buried in the Loch, for her bark-stained sails were all that were seen above the blue water. The villagers still gazed, and the "old folks" were not the most callous spectators of the scene." Now a something was seen just at the point of Kosneath, on which the sunbeams shone bright, and gave it the appearance of an evening golden cloud : it was the brown sail-in an instant it rounded the point, and was seen no more! The villagers one by one dropped off to their cots, to their nets, or to their fields, and all was deserted and quiet, where an hour before so many were collected with anxious looks and heaving breasts. [To be continued.] AN INVOCATION. By Procter. If, at this dim and silent hour, To wander from their homes of light, Whatever sights sublime there be, Or be thou like a demon thing, Or like the bloody shapes that come And I would know how long they lie And if they feel, or joy, or weep, In that strange land of shadows. Thou But there thou art, a radiant spirit, Earlier than others thy blue home, Like a visiting beam, from star to star, And fancy, while before thine eyes, New-York Literary Gazette. BREACH OF PROMISE.-Those who are in the habit of observing the proceedings of our courts of law, have remarked the wonderful increase of suits for breach of promise of marriage within the last few years. One would think that all the gentlemen on the continent, black and white, had forsworn constancy, and set up for dear deceivers.— It is not long since a suit was brought in a northern county, by a lady of colour named Dinah, against a dashing Guinea gallant, ycleped Cæsar, for winning her innocent affections, and then dancing away to the tune of "When I loved you, I can't but allow "I had many an exquisite minute : Dinah, it seems, was a romantic and melan- "Whom but to see was to admire." Cæsar, however, like his namesake the im- "To sport an hour with beauty's chain, and Cæsar left poor Dinah to pine in soli- To be serious, this mercenary system of cates the reverse of this: but flattery and extracting money out of private events, obsequious attentions, if excessive on the ought to be discountenanced. No delicate part of man, may sadly alter a character woman would ever think of taking such re- that nature formed for noble purposes. venge—no proud woman would ever stoop to accept a purse of gold as an equivalent for wounded feelings-and no woman worthy of being loved, would ever obtrude her name before the public, to punish a dissembler and deserter. If a man, after gaining the affections of a woman, deserts her without just cause, if she has done nothing to deceive and to disgust him, if she be really the same to him on intimate acquaintance that she seemed to be in the first days of passion Now, has it never happened that the young and inexperienced have been fascinated by a fair exterior, and have been deceived with regard to the real character? Has it never happened that subsequent circumstances have forced upon them the unwelcome truth, that the very being whom they had believed to be possessed of the best and purest emotions, was selfish, disingenuous, and hypocritical? And if so, must they sacrifice the and admiration, then, if he arbitrarily and peace and welfare of their whole lives to a causelessly forsakes her, let him be left to the goadings of his conscience, and the stings of his own self-inflicted dishonour. But we contract founded on deception, or bear the alternative of being dragged before the public, stigmatized with every epithet of shame and reproach, and ruined in their fortunes and expectations? Surely, this is not justice. believe that in many an instance the defendant in such actions has suffered unmerited opprobrium of character, and unmerciful taxation of purse. Be it understood that The promise of an honourable man given we do not justify wanton and unprovoked to an honourable woman, is a sacred obliviolations of marriage engagements: there gation; even if admiration should languish, should be no bounds to the shame and infa- and affection should falter, he would never my of those who sport with feelings which dare to incur his own displeasure, by offendare allied to all that is pure and noble and ing his own sense of honour. In some inexalted in the character of the human heart.stances, this sense is carried to a fastidious But are there never just grounds for either excess; but if this be a fault, it is the fault party to dissolve an engagement? are there, of a noble mind. at least, no palliating circumstances? They But does a jury ever take into considerawho have mixed much in society, well know tion the circumstances to which we have that every thing presents itself under a mask, aliuded? Can they, from the nature of that ingenuousness and transparency of cha-things, obtain clear ideas on the subject? racter are as rare as the blossoming of the No-there are witnesses always at hand to aloe, and that a bright exterior often covers prove an engagement, but there can be none a foul and degraded heart. But does a to prove that one party has detected insinyoung man, starting with headlong speed on cerity in the other-the defendant himself the course of life, with warm enthusiasm, can be the only witness, and the testimony of high passions, and generous confidence, know this melancholy truth? Nay, will he the most upright man on earth is never adbelieve it from the lips of gray-headed wis-mitted in his own behalf, by distrustful and dom, when the rosy lips of youthful beauty suspicious Justice. are smiling upon him? Never: he must learn by his own experience, that "all that glistens is not gold," and that beautiful features and attractive manners may be co-existent with ungenerous feelings and evil pas- have at times been excessive. But cer sions. We have been led to make these obser vations from having noticed repeatedly in the journals of the day, statements of trials for breach of promise, in which the damages tainly the friends of a sensitive and delicate We must be guarded in our remarks, or female might find some other means of punwe shall have all the fair brows in the land ishing a wretch who cause/essly forsakes her, fixed upon us frowningly. We do not mean than the picking of his pocket. If a man that personal beauty is an index of mental be really guilty of such baseness, the vendeformity-by no means-it naturally indi-geance is too slight and too cheap-if he be |