ticulars concerning the patient whom I was now to visit, in order that I might be prepared to fall in with his humors if he had any. He was naturally a weak-minded man, with a limited stock of ideas, hypochondriacal, and rendered peevish by certain ailments to which he had been subjected for a course of years. The prevailing foible of his mind was vanity. He happened to be a blood relative of a very distinguished man, long since dead, but who had once been a governor of the state, and Mr. McTab basked in the reflected glories of this relationship. He never conversed without introducing in a respectful manner the authority of his 'kinsman.' And this formed one of his topics. Another on which he dwelt sorrowfully, was his pecuniary losses. He was now poor, almost too poor to keep up any thing but the shadow of that pomp in which his soul delighted. But his remote ancestors had once owned a little property in the city of New-York, and if it had remained in the family, by the natural rise of real estate it would now be of great value. This thought wofully tormented McTab. But an event had occurred many years before, which more than any thing else produced an impression on his mind, and he never spoke of it without boiling over with indignation. The presidency of the college in the city of New-York became vacated, and a distinguished clergyman of the Reformed Dutch Church was selected to fill it. But by the charter of the institution, only a Churchman was eligible; and in order to get over this difficulty, they created a new officer called a Provost. This step enraged McTab very much, who was a sound Churchman, although he had no interest in the college, and had himself a very deficient education. And notwithstanding things returned to their accustomed channel, and the same irregularity was not likely to occur again, he never got over it, and he never ceased to cry Shame! shame!' in his retirement.

Having arrived at the mansion of this personage, I left my Rosinante standing at the door, and was immediately conducted into his presence. I found him to be a 'pompious' man indeed; but he received me with a grave suavity, which well became his precarious health. Tak' a seat, Sir,' said he, 'tak' a seat.' He was a man apparently about sixty, of a florid complexion, with a small head mounted upon a body somewhat corpulent. He wore a flowered morning gown and red slippers, and was walking up and down the room, pouring out well-rounded sentences, which he appeared to have put together with care. At last I ventured to intimate that I had come at his command, and hoped I did not find him very unwell. He folded his arms, almost closed up his twinkling eyes, which were no larger than peas, and continuing to walk the floor: Your hopes are futile, Sir,' replied he; I am a man of infirmities; my candle of life is flickering, and there is no soundness in my bones.' He spoke this with solemn earnestness; then pausing, he added, That sentence would read well in print.' Presently he became religious, and with great mouthing, inflection of the voice, and emphasis, he pronounced the following sentences: Man that is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of sorrows: Oh that I may die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like his!' There,' exclaimed he, that would sound well in the pulpit.'

At last, getting down from his high horse, he condescended to ask me a few questions concerning myself, as where I had obtained my education, etc. I replied, in the city of New-York, at the college.

Ah! the college! Don't speak to me of the college!' said he, drawing himself up with dignity. I know enough of the college, of King's College, that was. I remember well, and I have cause to remember, Sir, the day when the Provost first entered its walls. Upon my honor,' said he, speaking with great vehemence, ‘I had rather seen the college in flames, and Mason in it, and all going up to heaven together! It was an outrageous measure, Sir. I disapproved of it; the church disapproved of it; the Governor objected to it; I have heard my kinsman say he did.'

'It was a compromise,' replied I, 'to say the least, of doubtful tendency.'

'Not at all doubtful, Sir,' said he, snapping me short, 'not at all doubtful. I tell you it was positively disgraceful; it was a dereliction of principle. No son of mine should ever enter the doors.'

'The mistake,' said I, 'is not likely to be repeated, but when it occurred it was thought that the college and the city could not dispense with the services of so distinguished a man.'

Ah! I beg you will not speak of the city; I beg you will not speak of losses. I have had losses, Sir. I ought at this moment to be rolling in wealth. Oh Gemini! the world's a pilgrimage! So Kushow's cut his toe off, eh? Serves him right for going bare-footed. They live like hogs, the Kushowses.'

After various desultory conversation, I found that Mr. McTab wanted to consult me about taking a cold bath, or rather he had made up his mind to take one; and after inquiring his symptoms, I certainly did not think that a cold bath would do him any harm.

'Look here, Sir,' said he, throwing open a door, and stalking into an adjoining room, 'I've got an establishment fixed up at great expense. There's the apparatus, Sir.'

On looking around, I saw no fixtures, but a round tub, of large dimensions, such as washerwomen make use of, stood in the middle of the room, half filled with water; and McTab insisted that I should remain and see him take the bath. There was a grand difficulty in his case, for he asserted roundly that it was impossible for him to sink in water, in consequence of there being 'no life in him.' I did not attempt to argue this point with him, but rather indulged the hope that although this might be the case at present, he might eventually be enabled to sink. He thought not. I begged him to make trial, and he seemed resolved to do so at first, but when it came to the point of sitting down in the cold water, he rather adhered to his opinion that he could not sink, and kept away from the tub.

Sit down,' said I, gently pressing him by the shoulders, ' you will sink.'

'I tell you I can't sink, I won't sink!' replied he, with vehemence, and springing up with elasticity.'

Sir,' said I, looking soberly at him, 'try what good floating will do.'

He appeared to relish the good sense of this suggestion very much, and bent gradually down, mumbling to himself all the while; but no

sooner did the water penetrate the folds of his morning-gown, than he began to catch in his breath. There's no life in me,' cried he, clinging tightly to the sides of the tub with both hands. There's no life in me! I float like a gull.'

'Let go of the tub,' said I, ' and you will sink.'

'I tell you I can't sink! I float like a gull! I float like a gull!' Being anxious to know what his specific gravity really was, I suddenly unclinched both his hands with great exertion, and he sank to the bottom like a stone, while the tide immediately rose in the tub to the very brim. Having done this, I was frightened at my own boldness, lest I had committed a worse mistake than when I tore the muslin. But so incompatible is cold water with any of the passions, that a flash of displeasure which appeared on McTab's countenance passed immediately away, and while the cooling element closed him in on every side, his eyes were turned with a refreshed lustre' toward the ceiling, and I saw that he was composing a splendid sentence, fit to appear in print.' Here I immediately withdrew, on a point of delicacy, lest by my presence I should seem to twit him with having sunk. I left him with his legs dangling out of the tub, apparently in a tranquil frame, and wrapped up in sublime medita

tions.

I had not seen a human being about the premises of Mr. McTab, with the exception of a female form, which flitted suddenly across my path as I left the house. It was difficult to distinguish her features by the dimness of the evening. But who she was, if the reader has any desire, he may be informed hereafter. As I went to bed that night, by the light of the moon, I could not help congratulating myself upon the excellent field of practice upon which I had entered. But at that time I was without experience, and little foresaw the ills which would beset the path of the country doctor. In reflecting on the events of the day, I soon fell asleep; but as if I had not already met with enough adventures, I was awakened in the middle of the night by peals of laughter proceeding from my very bed. I rubbed my eyes, and looked around, but saw no one. The moon was nearly down, and still cast a dim light into my chamber. In a few minutes I understood the whole matter. I had been evidently dreaming, and was aroused by the sounds of my own merriment. I pressed my hand on my forehead, and tried to recall the train of ideas. Perhaps the reader would be glad to know the occasion of my midnight revelry. Well, then, it was neither my adventures at the farm-house, nor the fears of Diana, nor the officious kindness of Mrs. Quaintley, nor the bombastic behaviour of M'Tab. It was the vision of Flummery, leading forth the equippage which had been bequeathed to me by my predecessor, the horse and the chariot of the late Dr. Minime.

EPIGRAM

ON THE AUTHOR OF PRETTY PIECES' OF POOR AND PIOUS POETRY.

You're very pious, so you are!

And learned and literary;

But 'pon my word, and as a friend,
You 're very stupid-very!

TR B GOOD MAN'S

PORTRAIT.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE APPROACH OF AGE.'

WHEN I was young, I knew an aged man,
Learned in the tongues that tell the richest thoughts
Of gray antiquity, and deeply skilled

In science various of the modern school.
Me, with persuasive eloquence he taught,
And, in the garden of my memory, sowed

Some precious seeds, which since have sprung to fruit.
But be that as it may; I surely feel

The better for his teachings. Through my life,
(He has been many years among the past,)
I've looked to his example, and have striven
To emulate his virtues. When perplexed,

Thus asked myself, 'Were that good man alive,

What would he counsel?' Then, with serious thought,
I chose my course, and often wisely chose.

To fancy's eye, before me now he stands,
In form erect and tall; clear white and thin,
His hair falls smoothly o'er an ample brow;
His lustrous eye illumes a placid face,
Where dignity and grace serenely smile,
With unaffected ease.

His wants were few,

That crowned his days with health and sweet content,
And blessed his nights with undisturbed repose.

Envy and hate were strangers to his mind,
For mild Benevolence shut them out of doors.
Each thought unselfish, every action pure;
With human failings he could sympathize,
And scan the motive closer than the deed.
No narrow prejudice his judgment swayed;
The honest man, where'er by fortune placed,
Won his sincere regard; but gilded fraud,
And affectation of luxurious taste,

That starve the creditor, met his rebuke.
While with discriminating hand, he spared
To pallid Want a portion of his store,
He feared the eye might see the liberal alms.
When wranglers met, or fierce contention rose,
The foolish heart, when he admonished, wept,
And peace prevailed where his wise counsels fell.

He looked abroad upon the fruitful vales,
The distant hills that cloud-like paint the sky,
The peopled lands, the wilderness of waves;
And, with an humble but observing view
Surveyed the harmony of nature's laws.
In all around, a Providence he saw,
And daily lifted up his heart to heaven
In earnest thankfulness for daily joys.
No bigot zeal aroused unchristian hate,
Nor stirred him on to ineffectual rage.
He never said to man, 'Stand thou apart!'
And never damned him to eternal flames

For points of faith. And, when the scoffer railed,
He truly pitied, still he ne'er condemned,

For judgment is the attribute of God!

But, in his closet prayed, the infidel soul
Might be imbued with grace and hope divine.

He loved to mingle with the youthful throng,
And, with a zest unusual to his years,

Enjoyed their healthful games. Unlike the vain,
Self-righteous one, upon whose rigid brow
Demureness sits austere, he saw no sin
In mirthful pleasures, or athletic sports,
Or scenic art that aids the loftiest muse.

'My son,' I well remember once he said,

My length of years has fortified my faith,
And proved the worth of virtue's fadeless bloom.
Although the world is dazed by splendid guilt,
If rulers be not merciful and just,

They are not great. The good alone are great!
I've aimed to do, to all within my sphere,
As I should be content they did to me;
But calm reflection, born of after hours,
Hath often chid me for ungenerous deeds,
And kindness unperformed. I am but man,
And trust the mercy of my heavenly Judge.'

Since then, O Time! sad changes hast thou wrought!
That good man sleeps with the forgotten dead,
And I am spared, who knew and felt his worth,

To bless his memory! O never more

Shall I be greeted with the approving smile

So natural to his face! O never more

Shall hear the voice, so musical, that first
Inspired to nobler aim and brighter hope

The heart that might, but for his care, have been
Cold as his own!

PEDRILLO, THE PRIVATE TUTOR.

-'Sed vos savas imponite leges;

Ut præceptori verborum regula constet,

Ut legat historias, auctores noverit omnes.' - JUVENAL.

WHAT an admirable thing is a good caricature! - not those political lithographs, with long mottos appended to render them intelligible, but a sketch that speaks for itself; a type of an odd human species; an essay on a class of men condensed into a dozen strokes of the pencil. In that excellent work 'Les Français, peints par Eux-mêmes,' there is a sketch of a précepteur, so comprehensive, so complete, so faultless, that a man who had never heard of the creature, would know him as thoroughly at a glance as any paterfamilias in the country.

Those eyes, fixed learnedly on vacancy through a pair of spectacles; those furrows which wisdom has ploughed upon his brow; that lengthened nose, which, tapped by pedantic forefinger, shows, like the gnomon on the dial, how high the sun of vanity rides in the heavens; that pursed-up mouth, which seems bursting with quis, quæ, quod, and other words that burn; that Atlantean stock supporting the universe of brain; all bespeak the Latin and Greek man, the totus in se, the all-important, all-sufficient to himself: but the next glance discloses the close-buttoned, seedy coat, which hides his weekly chemise d'homme or his semi-hebdomadal dummy; his knock-kneed supporters, clad in shining tights, so crooked as to be excellent in impressing the letter X, on the infant mind; the next glance reveals the complete