it evident that they are not quite laid on the | had the superintendence of all. At length, shelf; and good-natured elderly gentlemen to his joy, an occasion presented itself for dance with children, or ladies who would him to revisit Ardentine. No one ever emsit neglected and alone, and such complaisance is highly honourable to them with re spect to those who pride themselves on their superiority as dancers: the same feeling occurs in every other accomplishment, and is not blame-worthy, unless it be carried to excess. The ingredients necessary to make up a proper dancer are, a good figure, kind countenance, a knowledge of the science, well-bred manners, and attention to your partner. The effects of dancing differ, as I have already observed, with the time of life of the performer, mere amusement, a tender inclination, the wish to please and be pleased, or that politeness which performs an act contrary to inclination or convenience, merely to make another momentarily happy, and to pluck from their mind the thorn of care, and sooth a regret at being passed over and forgotten.

barked as joyously as he: his heart in his bosom bounded lighter than his bark upon the waves, and he steered through the blue waters with a master hand.

I have nothing more to add on this subject, except to say, that as Italy is the favoured soil for

The concord of sweet sounds,"

so is her neighbour France the land of the cheerful dance; and long may her children, leaving to the sullen Spaniard his jealousy and haughty spirit, tread care under their feet, and spring joyfully on their happy soil. That every fair danseuse, whether of Britain, France, or of the warmer and more meridional countries, may find a vis-a-vis and a partner to her mind, and that she may ultimately be engaged for life to one, is the wish of their general admirer, although he be the grave and

WANDERING HERMIT.

FOR THE

When arrived in sight of that spot on earth, which was dearest to him, his thoughts dwelt among the days that were passed, and in imagination he lived over again the happy hours he had spent with his Helen. None but a lover knows the anxious hours a lover has many fears flashed across his mind, even at the very time when a few moinents would assure him of the reality. He gazed on every well-known mark of the shore; each one was identified with Helen, and every high peak of the hills reminded him of her, for there was her name engraven. Her cottage looked to his eye neater and more cheerful than all the others, and even the smoke from its chimney curled more gracefully to heaven. It is a strange eye with which a lover looks! Though he was cutting his way fleetly through the waters, he chided his tardy bark, for he looked on, and his heart was already within her dwelling. The last moments of a voyage, to lovers, as to all, are ever the most tedious. Helen saw the well-known vessel approach, and gazed fondly on it, till she descried Donald's bonnet waving in the air: she kissed her hand to him, as token of recognisance, and now assured that he was well, entered her cottage, that, unobserved by the rude eyes of callous spectators, she might give him welcome. In a few moments more, Donald clasped her in his

arms.

I need not tell all he said, nor how much he pressed her to name the bridal day: with a maiden's diffidence at length she fixed the happy one, and both looked forward to it, as the dawning of a new life-as the summit of

NEW-YORK LITERARY GAZETTE. their earthly bliss.

TALES FROM CROSSBASKET.

By Francis Topic.

THE BRIDAL EVE.

[Continued.]

AFTER a prosperous passage, the wherry arrived at its destined place, and safely landed its valuable freight. This was the first night Donald had ever spent out of his native village, and it was a lonely one to him: a thousand thoughts crossed his imagination -joyful anticipations and distressing fears. These, however, were soon driven from his mind, for the active preparations Lord John was making, in and about his new dwelling, demanded Donald's time and thoughts, as he

The preparations necessary for the nuptials of people in their station, are neither many, pompous, nor expensive. Donald's presence being required by Lord John, he could not wait to attend to these himself, but entrusted all to his bride and her parents; and as he could not prolong his visit, he set sail, and for a second time departed from all that was dear to him on earth: not however without assuring Helen he would return upon the BRIDAL EVE, that the ceremony might be performed on the appointed day early enough to give sufficient time to convey his bride to her new abode before its close.

Time waits for none: the longest period comes round at last, though lovers seldom think so, till it is realized. At length the day preceding the nuptial one arrived, and

was ushered in with dismal clouds and for smiling hope, with merry step danced

anxious day to her: she saw how sullenly cottage, and echo answered from every the moon arose, and the omens which fore- peak: each flash of the red lightning showtold a stormy night. She could not allow ed to Helen's feverish sight the appalling herself to fear for Donald's safety, for she scene. knew his bark was good and he skilful; yet thing on the loch, it looked like a spectre she wished a thousand times he were arri

Her thoughts were so intensely fixed upon the morrow, it almost seemed to her she had anticipated the time, and that her bridal day was come. A thousand hopes of future weal, and a thousand fears of future wo, pressed on her imagination-and her mind was so filled with these thoughts, which maidens feel at such a time, but man cannot describe, that night had already approached-but Donald was not arrived. Still she did not fear for him, but again fer

vently wished that she knew he were safe.

"I know he is constant," she said: "he never deceived any one, and surely he never would deceive me; he is, and must be safe too-love with outstretched wings will guide his bark, and spirits which wait on virtue, will protect him in the hour of need."

Night had now set in: the wind blew louder, and the waves mounted higher. The moon and stars had all withdrawn, his large eyes fixed in his head, had a terrific shrouded in an eternity of clouds, and the look. The brave animal fell at Helen's rain fell in torrents, as if heaven were weep- feet almost exhausted, and uttered a fearful ing at the dreadful scene. With anxious groan. The parents, whom the first tone of mind and aching breast, Helen kept her joy had roused from their dream of terrors, watch at the window, against which the gazed on the dumb creature, without power heavy rain furiously poured, where she had either to speak or move-but the dog surplaced her lamp to be a beacon-light, to veyed each face alternately with such a which her lover might steer. She could look that spoke horrid imaginings.

not think that any disaster had befallen him,

CORRESPONDENCE.

WE cordially concur in the sentiments of our correspondent. Those who "act well their parts" on and off the stage are well worthy of esteem.-ED.

SIR,

New-York Literary Gazette.

LORD BYRON.

"The base multitude, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, got up brutal falsehoods concerning his private life, and these they mixed up and blended with their narrow and confused conceptions of his poetical productions, till they imagined the real living, flesh-and-blood Byron, to be a monster, familiarly known to them in all his hideous propensities and practices. He was with all his faults a noble being."-Blackwood's Magazine, No. 98.

To be an independent man in the present age, requires uncommon audacity of disposition. He who is "too fond of the right to

WHY is it, that although individual worth may equal public celebrity, the dramatic performer with respect to private consideration, encounters the depressing association of prejudice and obloquy? From scenic representations are derived our highest and most innocent gratifications; from its in- pursue the expedient," must nerve his mind fluence the mind gathers instruction; the to bear censure, reproach, and obloquy from sensibilities become expanded; we are soft- the throng whose sinuous course his own ened by virtuous emotions and roused by honourable and straight-forward conduct their more energetic impressions; and puts to shame. It is no longer safe to call these sentiments which thus penetrate the things by their right names-hypocrisy is spectator, may they not equally strengthen termed morality, cowardice is prudence, the moral education of the performer? We know that he is not merely a handsome piece of mechanism-that to produce these effects, grace and beauty, with all their harmonious accompaniments, are alone inadequate-that reciprocal dependence subThe personal character of Lord Byron sists between the noblest creations of genius was remarkable for its independence.and the kindred conceptions of talent. To Circumstances combined to render him delineate the meaning of an author, beside proud; noble birth, wealth, and elevated an intimate acquaintance with human cha- genius, a heart naturally intrepid and inracter, intellect must be aided by arduous capable of meanness, necessarily form a study, universal knowledge, and profound proud character, and when brought in conresearch; and to depict the manners of re- tact with base and low-minded creatures, finement, are required the accomplishments they add haughtiness to pride. We believe and habit of polished society. Yet in the it is an oriental proverb, that " the arrow of successful concentration of every natural contempt will pierce the shell of the torand acquired endowment, imparting delight, toise"-sluggishness, which neither ambi

and formed to adorn the circle of social enjoyment, the actor is debarred from congenial sympathies, with a heart unfilled by applause, his sole resource those who hold an inferior situation, and who are of inferior faculties, or the humiliation of constrained and partial, or selfish and degraded cordiality; and when to all these ills are added, the inseparable disgusts, painful drudgery, and laborious duties of his occupation, who but inexperienced youth, in this fatal selection of complicated evil and oppression, would incur the subjection of an arbitrary inequality, and in the denial of merited respectability, the refusal of that justice whose principle is extended to all ?

C. L.

swindling is proper attention to one's interests, and roguery is talent; while truth is impertinence, sincerity is impudence, and a nice sense of honour is either ferocity or quixotism.

tion nor vanity can rouse to action, will be metamorphosed into activity, in revenge of scorn and disdain. Nothing is more intolerant, nothing is more unforgiving, than the revenge of a selfish and contemptible man against his superior who has dared to curl his lip at baseness and folly. That this was one great cause of the personal malignity which persecuted Lord Byron, there can be no doubt; and when to this is added the envy of the mean, the vile, and the worthless, it is folly to hope that the character of even a saint could pass through their hands without abuse and aspersion. Lord Byron was no saint-he was a man compounded of good and evil, of noble virtues, of generous passions, and undoubtedly of great faults. He Let Lord Byron be judged by his writings, and by the statements of responsible persons, of gentlemen, and of men of

made no pretensions to that sublimated char- tions shall dissuade us; and be the conseacter "all passionless and pure," all refined quences what they may, we shall dare to go from the frailties of humanity, all indifferent on in his defence so long as one independent to earth and all attached to heaven, which the man is left to tell us that we have done rancorous and hypocritical laureate of Eng- well. land so modestly claims as his own. Byron claimed not such perfection Byron was only high-minded, generous, manly, honorable and brave; but what were all these character, not by the corrupt breath of traits compared to the spotless purity of a anonymous scribblers, who would forge falseBowles, or the unearthly piety of a Southey? hoods for a dollar, and blaspheme for a pound. It is enough to sicken the heart with human Away with such "censores morum" as nature, to see such men as this duumvirate Southey and Bowles, and their fellow-hounds held up as paragons of excellence, and then that bark and howl in the path of genius, to turn to the grave of the slandered Byron, straining every nerve to be honoured by its and mark the serpents that are crawling enmity. Let the community awake to the there, empoisoning the laurels that flourish knowledge that they have been insulted by above it, and rioting over the decay of a false witnesses; that they have been taught noble and magnanimous breast.

to hate a noble and exalted man; that they By what foundation are the ten thousand have been imposed upon by misstatements scandals against Byron supported? Do they and misrepresentations; and let them rise rest on the responsibility of honourable in their might, to appease the manes of Bynames, on the veracity of gentlemen? Do ron, and to prostrate in the dust the unpathey even rest on the basis of probability? ralleled slanderers from whose hatred even Where is there a statement of his vices which the sanctity of the shroud affords no asyis avouched by a name of respectability? lum.

Whence have we in America derived our authority for abusing him? Is it not from the columns of the English newspaper conductors, whose hirelings, "terrible-accident makers," and drudges, are paid by the job for inventing falsehoods to pamper the voracious appetites of scandal; who are anonymous in their attacks, and secure from punishment by means of their very baseness? Does not Sir Walter Scott invariably speak of Byron with affection and esteem? Was not Byron beloved by Moore, and Rogers, and Hobhouse, and is not the friendship of such men a resistless proof of his personal worth? If the character of a man of genius is to be blackened and ruined by secret defamers, anonymous assassins, and wanton tattlers, it were better to administer poison to every boy that exhibits the promise of talents, and to leave the great theatre of existence free to the blind and deluded multitude.

We have not room in this number for our strictures on the North American, No. 49. We shall not drop the subject until we have gone thoroughly over the ground.

The New-York Literary Gazette.
To

Away from my heart-thou'rt as worthless and vain

As the meanest of insects that flutter in air;

I have broken the bonds of our union in twain,
For the spots of thy shame and thy falsehood were
there-

The

woman who still in the day-dawn of youth

Can hold out her hand for the kisses of all

Whose heart is dishonour, whose tongue is untruth,
Doth justify man when he breaks from her thrall.
Yet, deem not I hate thee-my heart is too high
To feast on the spoil of so abject a foe;
I but deem thee unworthy a curse or a sigh,
For pity too base, and for vengeance too low.

I deem thee a reptile that crept o'er my path,

Like the crocodile, false-like the adder, ingrate:
But I hold thee unworthy to merit my wrath-
Too feeble to harm, and too worthless to hate.

We will not pretend to conceal our in- Then away, unregretted, unhonour'd thy name

tense anxiety that the character of Lord Byron should be seen in its true light, and not handed down to posterity as a black spot on his fame. We shall not shrink from the

unpopular effort to do him justice-no threats shall intimidate, and no selfish considera

In my moments of scorn recollected alone-
Soon others shall wake to behold thee the same
As I have beheld thee, and thou shalt be known;
There are eyes beaming on me far brighter than thine-
There's a heart that beats fondly and truly for me,
Where my feelings may worship at purity's shrine,
And smile at their freedom from sin and from thee!

PUBLIC AFFAIRS.

We know the writer of the following article to be a man who never shrinks from the responsibility of his name on subjects of public interest, and whose zeal for the welfare of the republic began with the first spring of the revolution.-ED.

If any modification of an onerous public debt can be proposed, which shall have for its object an increase of the public resources, and great saving of money to the community, the authorities before whom it may come, are bound by the strongest ties of moral and social obligation to consider the proposition.

to

It appears on the face of the Report of the 15th May, 1821, exhibited by the Comptroller, that the whole of the debt of the corporation of this city amounted on that day 1,102,200 Dollars. And that the sinking fund, as now arranged, amounts annually to about 37,000 Dollars. It is an ascertained fact (whatever the cause that contribute to the effect may be) that the period of redemption of all public funds in relation to the market rate of interest, constitute their minimum or maximum value.

But it is not so generally understood, that the irredeemibility of a debt for a long period, bearing a high interest when the market rate of interest is low, may be productive of salutary financial operations. If the six per cent. stocks of the Corporation of the city of New-York, were funded on condition that they should not be redeemed under fifteen years, they would bear a premium of more than twenty per cent. in the market, instead of being at par or nearly so.

The unequivocal result of funds instituted on periods of redemption long or short, or payable at pleasure, being fully shown by reference to the daily price of stocks, the inference is natural, that the debt of the Corporation of this city is not placed upon the best footing by the operation of its sinking fund, that it could be advantageously modified, and the creditor not injured in his property or rights.

By looking over the market value of stocks for October 22nd, 1825, the Corporation sixes are quoted at an advance of 11⁄2 to 21⁄2 per cent., and the new canal sixes bearing a premium of 23+. There is no other way of accounting for this great dissimilarity of in the value of similar annuities, but upon the principles already suggested; the former may be paid off any time at the option of the Corporation, and the latter not redeemable until the year 1840.

The stability of the funds and resources on which both debts are established, cannot make any difference in their respective values, they are equally solid and equally guaranteed by good faith, the difference therefore, can only be in the mode of their institution.

In the estimation of the undersigned, no obligation can be stronger or more binding upon the administrators of any corporate body pledged for a large debt, than that of assigning as near as possible, a definite period for its extinction, without impairing the rights and property of the creditor. The owners of real estate would be pleased with the arrangement, because they might distinctly see an end to their burthens; the renter would be equally pleased, because if the taxes were abated, he would reasonably calculate his rent to be proportionably diminished; the annuitant would have no cause to complain; by the plan he has a fair equivalent for his money, and the poor would have reason to rejoice that a Corporation possessing increasing resources, might confidently look forward to a period when it should be released from the gangrene of a heavy public debt, that they might participate more bountifully in the public contributions.

With these prefatory remarks in deference to public opinion, the undersigned would beg leave to propose the following modification of the debt owing by the Corporation of the city of New-York:

1st. To separate the six per cent. stock from other description of debt. 2d. To show that this description of debt may be paid off within a limited time, without increasing the public burthens, or impairing the rights and interests of the creditor.

3d. The proper application of the sinking fund in relation to the six per cents., and every other species of debt due from the Corporation.

to

The six per cent. stock of the Corporation, amounted on the 15th day of May, 1822,

Charged with an annual interest of

$44,538

The other description of debt consists of bonds at six per cent.

Five per cents. of 1820

Five per cents. of 1821

$742,500

45,000 155,000