LONG WAISTS.

[Charleston Courier.]

To a man of small wardrobe-no great fondness for shew-and not much of monies otherwise unappropriat ed, as they say in Congress, it is painful and alarming to contemplate the approaching change of the fashion in gentlemen's coats, of which strong indications are to be seen in the persons of one or two individuals recently returned from the North. It is well known, that the fashion now is to have the waist extremely concise, the buttons at the upper orifices of the pockets being very little below the lower extremity of the shoulder blade. Now it was not to be expected that they would always remain in statu quo: for the revolutionary spirit, sometimes exhibited in a new constitution, or a new dynasty, is daily occupied in new bonnets and frills for the ladies, and new shapes and appearances for the gentlemen.

Now, as Horace says, Est modus in rebus—all things are to be measured; sunt certi denique fines-nothing ought to be too long; quos ultra citraque-either above or below; nequit consistere rectum-if you wish to be right. This rule of Horace, who was the Chesterfield of the Augustan age, we have no doubt referred to the point in issue, as the language clearly indicates, being technical or professional language, as our readers will perceive.

Now change, of itself, is not a bad thing, but, on the contrary, is often salutary; as for instance, change of air and change of diet for the sick; for the dissolute, change of manners; change of opinion for those, who are in error; change of faith for the unbeliever; change of names for single ladies; and change of sides for politi cians. It is a pleasing change for a worm to become a butterfly, &c. But we wander from the immediate and important matter before us.

It is the chief value of old pictures that they convey the fashionable history of the times, whether for the purpose of being imitated or avoided. Every body knows the long, trim, formal garments, in which we are accustomed to behold these portraits of our grandsires.

Such is the beatiful reverence with which they are regarded, and the respect for antiquity, which they inspire, that even their garments are sacred; nor would any man dare, except on the stage (where Socrates himself was calumniated,) to violate decorum, by appearing in one of these patriarchal dresses. Doomed, as we are, never more to look upon our ancestors, we cannot endure to be reminded of them by the degenerate moderns.

Now the new fashion consists in reviving, as Mr. Canning would say, in extenso, the long waisted coats, which were the peculiar characteristic of times long past. Nor do they observe herewith the ancient economy, which dispensed with capes, having a standing collar at most-for the idea now is, that you must have a large high stuffed cape, like a half-moon battery, in the rear of the head, with two lappels on the other side, like salient angles, thick enough to glance a bullet.

Now we are not such enemies to change as was Peruvian Rolla; but we do not like sudden and violent changes. Let the changes be gradual from a short waist to a little more or a little less brevity; but to pass instantly from one extreme to another, is to suffer, like a piece of red hot iron, soused by a blacksmith into a pail of cold water, which proceeds straitway to hiss its reproaches in his teeth.

ILLULIONS OF SOCIETY.

[From the same.]

"Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourn, And he alone is blest, who ne'er was born."

THESE melancholy lines of Prior come in unison, at one time or another, with the real sentiment of all human nature; of such a portion of it, that is, as has sensibility to suffer, and is exposed to the manifold injuries of communion with the world. Pain is infinitely more intense than pleasure. One bitter moment curdles, for an immeasurable distance, the current of insipid joy; happiness dazzles the vision, but misery seizes the heart. It is the privilege of man to weep, and therein are we

superior to a prize ox or a mule. It is the business of a child to cry, and, therefore, we presume, its birth is welcomed by drinking its health in Frontignac, and eating it in plum-cake, as if affliction was not its mantle, and ushered it to the cradle-as if affliction was not to be its shroud, and to deposite it in the tomb.

It does well enough for society, which is only a great scheme of imposition, to multiply its victims, by painting, in false colours, the allurements of life. When the feelings of youth are fresh, and the heart is original, and the imagination burns and pants for distinction, tell him then of the reward of talents-of the controlling influ ence of virtue-of the triumph of disinterestedness-of the honours of patriotism. But send him straitway from the haunts of men, if you would not dissipate the illusion, nor listen to the imprecations of his ingenuous scorn. For what is society, after it is known, but a collection of insects, climbing up a pyramid, all striving to get at the top, to one of whom it seems to be gold-and to another, pleasure-and to a third, fame. It seems, indeed, whatever is desired, and they call it happiness; and, in pursuing happiness, which they all say they are entitled to, they jostle, and undermine, and overreach, and supplant, and betray each other-travelling never in a straight path, but winding circuitously, according to the bent of their interest; and as virtue, and intelligence, and piety, are the sterling gold of the earth, so men find it convenient to profess that they have a quantity of each, there being a word called 'Credit,' which, if a man can acquire, he needs nothing else in this world; and having once got it, he may do any thing with impunity, provided he be rich. It is enough to be thought virtuous-it is enough to be thought religious-but to act with impunity, one must be rich. So much for the rewards and punishments of society-so much for

Glory's wreaths

Around unhallow'd brows profanely twin'd.

But the wrongs of society, its train of evil passions and propensities-its errors-its calumnies-its ingratitude-its neglect of merit-its fawning adulation of

D

wealth; these are enough to make a misanthropist of any man, who is fit to make any thing.

HANS HOSMAN,

[Mississippi Republican.]

DIED, at, in the neighbourhood of Franklin, in Franklin county, Hans Hosman, a venerable Dutchman of the old school of that methodical and straight-forward nation. Hans, as he was familiarly called by every white headed urchin of the neighbourhood, was a genius of no ordinary character, particularly for a Dutchman. The milk of human kindness was contained in his composition, in no small proportion, and very few circumstances could call forth other feelings in his heart than those of the most extensive philanthropy. Hans was a poet withal; and though he could not write, and barely possessed sufficient literature to enable him to read, he yet found a resource in a retentive memory, which enabled him to preserve, for the delight and edification of his friends, the various effusions of his muse. He often complained that the roughness of the English language, which he said was ill adapted to high poetical composition, narrowed the sphere of his usefulness, and controlled, in a great degree, his efforts to cultivate and civilize the natives of the country. He, however, was nothing daunted by this difficulty, but made astonishing efforts to overcome it, confessing that his want of complete success, might possibly be attributed to his slight acquaintance with the grammatical construction of this, or indeed any other, language. Hans was fond of his bottle, and adored his pipe; and he was wont to say, that if any thing could overcome the rigidness of our tongue, it was the comfortable inspiration of the Indian Weed. I beg, Mr. Editor, you will not for a moment suppose, that this was the name he gave to that delightful stimulant. On the contrary, he ever stoutly maintained that the appropriation of the nativity of this plant by our countrymen to their own soil, was a striking evidence of that over-weening vanity, which was their characteristic foible, and which all good Dutchmen were bound to oppose to their last whiff. He manfully assert

ed the right of Holland to the glory of having given it birth, and uniformly instanced it as one of the many be-nefits, which, Europe, and especially Fader Land, had conferred on this western world.

One of his most laboured compositions was in praise of this his prime favourite; and, luckily for mankind, it has been immortalized, having been committed to paper by an ingenious school-master of the neighbourhood, who had learned to write. After his death it was found in a small box containing his entire library, consisting of a Dutch Bible, and an Almanack printed in 1797, the year he left Pennsylvania, where he was born, to sojourn in this barbarous land; an event, which, he contended, evinced little less hardihood of character than of yore distinguished his ancestors in their pilgrimage to the banks of the Hudson. It was neatly folded in the aforesaid Almanack, a book, which the good man always deemed one of the most especial treasures, but which, by force of thumbing, is now nearly lost to the world. He regularly resorted to it, to learn the day of the month, the changes of the moon, her rising and setting, as also the rising and setting of the sun; but it was more especially his oracle on the subject of the weather, and it was his constant practice to consult it, before undertaking any affair of great importance, such as paying a visit to a neighbour, planting or cutting his tobacco, and other transactions of equal weight in his uniform life. 'Tis true the aforesaid planets, oftentimes, most capriciously flew into the face of his oracle, manifestly setting at defiance its prognostications: but this never once staggered his faith in its complete authenticity. He used to say that their strange conduct must be attributed to the new fangled notions existing in this latter world, on various subjects, particularly the sovereign contempt for three pair of breeches, which his neighbours never affected to conceal, and their obstinate adherence to modes of cultivation of the earth; which, as they did not agree with his own, he heartily detested. With regard to the weather too, he was frequently at a loss to account for the burning sun under which he suffered, when he was told to "look out for a severe storm of