  HEALTH, THE TOILET, ETC. My dear Nephews: Since no man can fulfill his destiny as an actively-useful member of society without Health, perhaps a few practical suggestions on this important subject may not be inconsistent with our present purpose. The only reliable foundation upon which to base the hope of securing permanent possession of this greatest of earthly blessings, is the early acquisition of Habits of Temperance. In a proper sense of the word, Temperance is an all-inclusive term—it does not mean abstaining from strong drink, only, nor from over-eating, nor from any one form of self-indulgence or dissipation; but it requires moderation in all things, for its full illustration. It was this apprehension of the term that was truthfully exhibited in the long, useful, consistent life of our distinguished countryman, John Quincy Adams. Habits formed in boyhood, in strict accord "Stern New-England's rocky shore," no misnamed luxury shrouded his frame from the discipline of that Teacher, "around whose steps the mountain breezes blow, and from whose countenance all the virtues gather strength." You are, doubtless, all familiar with Mr.Adams' habits of early rising, bathing, etc. The latter, even, he maintained until within two years of his death, bathing in an open stream each morning, if his locality permitted the enjoyment, at a very early hour. I have his own authority for the fact that he, during the different periods of his public sojourn abroad, laved his Since we have, incidentally, alluded to the Bath, in connection with the example of Mr.Adams, let us commence the consideration of personal habits, with this agreeable and essential accessory of Health. Though authorities may differ respecting some minor details with regard to bathing, I believe medical testimony all goes to sanction its adoption by all persons, in some one of its modifications. Constitutional peculiarities should always be consulted in the establishment of individual rules,—hence no general directions can be made applicable to all persons. The cold bath, though that most frequently adopted by persons in health, is, no doubt, injurious in some cases, and careful observation alone can enable each individual to establish the precise temperature at which his ablutions will be most beneficial. But, while the most scrupulous and unvarying regard for cleanliness should be considered of primary importance, the indiscreet use of the bath should be avoided with equal care. Bishop Heber, one of the best and most useful of men, sacrificed The art of swimming early acquired, affords the most agreeable and beneficial mode of bathing, not to dwell upon its numerous recommendations in other respects; but when this enjoyment cannot be secured, nor even the luxury of an immersion bath, luckily for health, comfort, and propriety, the means of sponge bathing may always be secured, at least in this country (wherever it has risen above barbarism), though I must say that frequently during my travels in England, and even through towns boasting good hotels, I found water and towels at a high premium, and very difficult of acquisition at that! Sponging the whole person upon rising, either in cold or tepid water, as individual experience proves best, with the use of the Turkish towel, or some similar mode of friction, is one of the best preparations for a day of useful exertion. This practice has collateral advantages, inasmuch as it naturally leads to attention to all the details of the toilet essentially connected with refinement and health—to proper care of the Hair, Teeth, Nails, etc.,—in short, to a neat and suitable arrangement of the dress before leaving one's apartment in the morning. To slippered age belongs the indulgence of a careless morning toilet; but with the morning of life we properly associate readiness for action in some pursuit demanding steady and prolonged exertion, early begun, and with every faculty and attribute in full exercise. Fashion sanctions so many varying modes of wearing or not wearing the hair, that no directions can be given in relation to it, except such as enjoin the avoidance of all fantastic dressing, and the observance of entire neatness with relation to it. Careful brushing, together with occasional ablutions, will best preserve this natural ornament; and I would, also, suggest the use of such pomades only as are most delicately scented. No gentleman should go about like a walking perfumer's shop, redolent, not of— "Sabean odors from the spicy shores Of Araby the Blest," but of spirits of turpentine, musk, etc., 'commixed and commingled' in 'confusion worse confounded' to all persons possessed of a nicety of nervous organization. All perfumes for the handkerchiefs, or worn about the person, should be, not only of the most unexceptionable kind, but used in very moderate The Teeth cannot be too carefully attended to by those who value good looks, as well as health. And nothing tends more towards their preservation than the habitual use of the brush, before retiring, as well as in the morning. The use of some simple uninjurious adjunct to the brush may be well; but pure water and the brush, faithfully applied, will secure cleanliness—the great preservative of these essential concomitants of manly beauty. If you use tobacco—(and I fervently hope none of you who have not the habit will ever allow yourselves to acquire it!)—but if you are, unfortunately, enslaved by the habit, never omit to rinse the mouth thoroughly after smoking (I will not admit the possibility, that any young man, in this age of progressive refinement, is addicted to habitual chewing), and never substitute the use of a strong odor for this proper observance, especially when going into the society of ladies. Smoke dispellers must yield the palm to the purifying effects of the unadulterated element, after all. The utmost nicety in the care of the Nails, is an indispensable part of a gentleman's toilet. They should be kept of a moderate length, as well as clean and smooth. Avoid all absurd forms, and inconvenient length, in cutting them, which you will find it easiest to do neatly while they are softened by washing, and the use of the nail-brush. Properly fitted boots and shoes, together with frequent bathing, will best secure the feet from the torturing excrescences by which poor mortals are so often afflicted. The addition of salt to the foot-bath, if persevered in, will greatly protect them from the painful effects of over-walking, etc. I think that under the head of Dress, in one of my earliest letters, I expressed my opinion regarding the essentials of refinement and comfort as connected with this branch of the toilet. I will only say, in this connection, that a liberal supply of linen, hosiery, etc., should be regarded as of more importance than outside display, and that the most enlightened economy suggests the employment of the best materials, the most skillful manufacturers, and the unrestrained use of these "aids and appliances" of gentleman-like propriety, comfort, and health. The best and surest mode of securing ample and certain leisure for needful attention to the minutiÆ of the toilet is Early Rising, a habit that, in addition to the healthful influence it exerts upon the physique, collaterally, promotes the minor moralities of life in a wonderful degree, and really is one of the fundamentals of success in whatever pursuit you may be engaged. Here, again, permit me to refer you to the examples of the truly great men of history—those of our own land will suffice—Washington, Franklin, Adams, and, though inconsistent with his habits in some other respects, Webster. Of the latter, it is well known, that he did not trim the midnight lamp But to secure the full benefit of early rising, my young friends, you must also, establish the habit of retiring early and regularly. No one dogma of medical science, perhaps, is more fully borne out by universal experience than this, that "two hours' sleep before midnight is worth all obtained afterwards." To seek repose before the system is too far over-taxed for quiet, refreshing rest, and before the brain has been aroused from the quiescence natural to the evening hours, into renewed and unhealthy action, is most consistent with the laws of health. And, depend upon it, though the elasticity of youthful constitutions may, for a time, resist the pernicious effects of a violation of these laws, the hour will assuredly come, sooner or later, to all, when the lex talionis will be felt in resistless power. Fashion and Nature are sadly at war on this point, as I am fully aware; but the edicts of the one are immutable, those of the other are proverbially fickle. Students, especially, should regard obedience to But if, as the nursery doggerel wisely declares, "Early to bed and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," there must be united with this rational habit, others each equally important to the full advantage to be derived from all combined. Among these, Exercise holds a prominent Among the numerous modes of exercise, none is so completely at command at all times and under all circumstances, as walking. But the full benefit of this exercise, is not often enjoyed by the inhabitants of cities, by reason of the impure air that is almost necessarily inhaled in connection with it. Still, it is not impossible to obviate this difficulty by a little pains. The early riser and the rapid pedestrian may in general, easily secure time to seek daily one of the few and limited breathing-places that, though in this regard we are vastly inferior to Europeans in taste and good sense, even our American cities supply, either, like what they indeed are, lungs, in the very centre of activity, or at no unapproachable distance from it. Do not forget that vegetation, while it sends forth noxious influences at night, exales oxygen and other needful food for vitality, in the morning, especially; nor that an erect carriage, which alone gives unobstructed play to the organs of respiration and digestion, is requisite, together with considerable activity of movement, to secure the legitimate results of walking. Students, and others whose occupations are of a sedentary character, sometimes adopt the practice of taking a long walk periodically. This is, no doubt, promotive of health, provided it is not at first carried to an extreme. All such habits should be By the way, I cannot too strongly recommend to your careful perusal the various works of Dr. Andrew Combe, long the physician of the amiable King of Belgium, in relation to that and kindred subjects. His "Physiology as applied to Mental Health," is replete with practical suggestions and advice of the most instructive and important nature, as are also his "Dietetics," etc. Himself an incurable invalid, he maintained the vital forces through many years of eminent usefulness to others, only by dint of the most strenuous adherence to the strictest requirements of the Science of the Physique. The writings of his brother, Mr. George Combe, and especially the work I have just mentioned, the "Constitution of Man," also abound in lessons of practical usefulness, which may be adopted irrespective of his peculiar phrenological Riding and driving need no recommendation to insure their popularity, as means of exercise. Both have many pleasure and health-giving attractions. Every young man should endeavor to acquire a thorough knowledge of both riding and driving, not from a desire to emulate the ignoble The possession of a fine horse is a prolific source of high and innocent enjoyment, and may often be secured by those whose purses are not taxed for cigars and wine! Nothing can be more exhilarating than the successful management of this spirited and generous animal, whether under the saddle or in harness! Even plethoric, ponderous old Dr. Johnson, admitted that "few things are so exciting as to be drawn rapidly along in a post-chaise, over a smooth road, by a fine horse!" Let me repeat, however, that young men should be content to promote health and enjoyment by the moderate, gentleman-like gratification of the pride of skill, in this respect. Like many other amusements, though entirely innocent and unexceptionable when reasonably indulged in, its abuse leads inevitably to the most debasing consequences.—Our dusty high-roads very ill supply the place of Eating and drinking are too closely connected with our general subject of health, to be forgotten here. That regard for Temperance which I have endeavored to commend to you, of course yields a prominent place to habits in these respects. In relation to eating, I strongly recommend the cultivation of simple tastes, and the careful avoidance of every indulgence tending towards ——"Mind and Body are so close combined, Where Health of Body, Health of Mind you find." Preserve, then, as you value the means of usefulness, the perfect play of your mental powers—so easily trammelled by the clogging of the machinery of the body—the unadulterated taste that is content with a sufficiency of wholesome, well-cooked food to satisfy the demands of healthful appetite. Cultivate no love of condiments, sauces and stimulants; indulge no ambition to excel in dressing salads, classifying ragouts, or in demonstrating, down to the nicety of Abstract rules in relations to the hours proper for taking meals, however carefully adapted to the security of health, in themselves considered, must, of necessity, give place to those artificially imposed by custom and convenience. Thus, though the practice of dining late is not sanctioned by Hygeia, it admits of question, whether, as the usages of the business-world at present exists, it is not a wiser custom than any other permitted by circumstance. All who have given any attention to the subject know, that neither bodily nor mental labor can be either comfortably or successfully pursued directly after a full meal. Hence, then, those whose occupations require their attention during several successive hours, may find the habit of dining after the more imperative labors of the day are accomplished, most conducive to health as well as convenience. Still, it should not be forgotten, that long abstinence is likely to produce the exhaustion that tells so surely and seriously upon the constitution, of young persons especially. This may be prevented by taking, systematically, a little light, simple nutriment, sufficient to produce what is aptly termed the stimulus of distention in that much Happily for those whose self-respect does not always furnish the sustaining power requisite for the maintenance of a principle, fashion no longer requires of any man the use of even wine, much less of stronger beverages. And with reference to the use of all alcoholic stimulants, as well as of tobacco, I would remind you that those only who are not enslaved by appetite, are FREE! If you have acquired a liking for wine or tobacco, and would abjure either, or both, you will soon be convinced, by experiment, of the truth of Dr. Johnson's saying, To prolong arguments against the habits of smoking and drinking, were a work of supererogation, here. I will advance but one, which may, possibly, possess the merit of novelty. Both have the effect, materially to limit our enjoyment of the presence and conversation of "Heaven's last, best gift to man!" I cannot better dismiss this important topic than by quoting the following passage from the writings of Sir Walter Raleigh: "Except thou desire to hasten thy end, take this for a general rule—that thou never add any artificial heat to thy body by wine or spice, until thou find that time hath decayed thy natural heat; the sooner thou dost begin to help nature the sooner she will forsake thee, and leave thee to trust altogether to art." In my youth, advice to young men was constantly commingled—whatever its general tenor—with admonitions regarding the necessity for industry and perseverance in those who would achieve worldly success. In these utilitarian times, when all seem borne along upon a resistless current, hurrying to the attainment of some practical end, engrossed by schemes of political ambition, or devoted to the acquisition of wealth, a quiet looker-on—as I am wont to regard myself—is tempted to counsel The impression that sleep is a sufficient restorative from the wearing effects of otherwise ceaseless labor, or that change of occupation furnishes all the relief that nature requires in this respect, is, undoubtedly, erroneous. "The man," says an eminent student of humanity, "who does not now allow himself two hours for relaxation after dinner, will be compelled to devote more time than that daily to the care of his health, eventually." To allow one's self to be so engrossed by any pursuit, however laudable in itself, as to reserve no leisure for the claims of Society, of Friendship, of Taste, is so irrational as to need nothing but reflection to render it apparent. In a merely utilitarian view, it is unwise, since, as Æsop has demonstrated, the bow that is never unbent soon ceases to be fit for use; but there is, surely, a higher consideration, addressed to the reason of man. Pope embodies it, in part, in the lines ——"God is paid when man receives, To enjoy is to obey!" To have an aim, a purpose in life, sufficiently engrossing to act as an incentive to the exercise of all the powers of being, is essential to They who devote all the exertions of youth and manhood to the acquisition of political distinction, or of gold, for instance—cherishing, meanwhile, a sort of Arcadian dream of ultimately enjoying the pleasures of intellectual communion, or the charms of the natural world, when the heat and burden of the conflict of life shall be done—exhibit a most deplorable ignorance of the truth that they will possess in age only the crippled capacities that disuse has almost wholly robbed of vitality, together with such as are prematurely worn out by being habitually overtaxed. On the contrary, those who believe that "It is not all of life to live," and early establish a true standard of excellence, and acquaint themselves with the immutable laws of our being, will so commingle self-ennobling pursuits and enjoyments with industrious and well-directed attention to the needful demands of practical life, as to secure as much of ever-present happiness as falls to the lot of humanity, together with the enviable retrospection of an exalted ambition, rightly fulfilled. They may also hope for the invaluable possession of intellectual and moral developments to be matured in that state of existence of which this is but the embryo. These are truisms, I admit, my young Burke's musical periods lamented the departure of the "age of chivalry." Would that one gifted as he may revive the waning existence of the social and domestic virtues, and inspire my young countrymen with an ambition too lofty in its aspirations to permit the sacrifice of mental and moral powers, of natural affections, and immortal aspirations, upon the altars of Mammon!—shrines now yearly receiving from our country a holocaust of sacrifices, to which battle-fields are as naught in comparison. But to return from this unpremeditated digression. Natural tastes and individual circumstances must, to a considerable extent, determine the relaxations and amusements most conducive to enjoyment and health. You will scarcely need to be told that persons of sedentary habits, and especially those devoted to literary occupations, should make exercise in the open air a daily recreation, and that it will best subserve the purposes of pleasure and health when united with the advantages arising from cheerful companionship. Hence the superiority of walking, riding, driving, boating, and sporting in its various forms, to all in-door exercises and amusements—and especially to those tending rather to tax the brain than exercise the body—for those whose mental powers are most taxed by their avocations. On the other hand, there are those to whom the lighter investigations of literature and science afford the most appropriate relief from the toils of business. Permit me, however, to enter my protest against the belief that a change from the labors and duties of city life to the close sleeping-rooms, the artificiality and excitement of a fashionable watering-place affords a proper and healthful relief to a weary body and an overwrought brain. Life at a watering-place is no more an equivalent for the pure air, the simple habits, the wholesome food, the repose of mind and heart, afforded by unadulterated country life, than immersion in a bathing-tub is a satisfactory substitute for swimming in a living stream, or a contemplation of the most exquisite picture of rural scenes, for a glorious canter amid green fields and over breezy hills! Nor will dancing half the night in heated rooms, late suppers, bowling-alleys and billiards, not to speak of still more objectionable indulgences, restore these devotees to study or business to their city-homes re-invigorated for renewed action, as will the least laborious employments of the farmer, the "sportive toil" of the naturalist, the varied enjoyments of the traveller amid the wonders of our vast primeval forests, or of the voyager who explores the attractions of our unrivalled chain of inland lakes. People who do their thinking by proxy, and regulate their enjoyments by the on dit of the fashionable world, yearly spend money enough at some crowded resort of the beau monde (heaven save the mark!) to enable them to make the tour of "Unwieldly wealth, and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to luxury allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride!" I would that all my young countrymen might have looked upon the last hours of my revered friend, John Quincy Adams, and thus learned the ——"bid us seize the moments as they pass, Snatch the retrieveless sun-beam as it flies, Nor lose one sand of life's revolving glass— Aspiring still, with energy sublime, By virtuous deeds to give Eternity to Time!" It was, indeed, a fitting close of his long, noble life! Faithful to his duty to his country, he maintained his post to the last, and fell, like a true defender of liberty—renouncing his weapons only with his life. Borne from the arena of senatorial strife to a couch hastily prepared beneath the same roof that had so often echoed his words of dauntless eloquence, attended by mourning friends, and receiving the tender ministrations of the companion alike of his earlier and later manhood, the flickering lamp of life slowly expired. After, apparently, reviewing the lengthened retrospection of a temperate, rational, useful life, from the boyish years to the dying efforts of genius and patriotism, the hushed stillness of that hallowed chamber at length rendered audible the sublime words—"It is the last of Earth! I am content!" I think it was during the administration of Sir Charles Bagot, the immediate successor of Lord Durham, as Governor General of the Canadas, that I had the pleasure to dine one day, at the house of a distinguished civilian who held office under him, in company with the celebrated traveller L——, and his friend, the well-known E—— G—— W——, a man who, despite wealth, rank, and talent, paid a life-long penalty for a youthful error. There were, also, present several members of the Provincial Parliament, then in session at Kingston, which was, at that time, the seat of government, and a number of ladies—those of the party of Americans with whom I was travelling, and some others. The conversation, very naturally, turned upon the national peculiarities of the Yankees—as the English call, not the inhabitants of New England alone, but the people of the North American States generally—in consequence of the fact that the world-wide traveller had just completed his first visit to our country. Some one asked him a leading question respecting his impressions of us as a people, and more than one good-humored sally was given and parried among us. At length L—— said, so audibly and gravely as to arrest the attention of the whole company: "I have really but two serious faults to charge upon Jonathan." "May we be permitted to inquire what those are?" returned I. "That he repudiates his debts, and doesn't take time to eat his dinner." When the general laugh had subsided, Mr.W—— remarked that, except when at the best hotels in the larger cities, he had found less inducement for dining deliberately in the United States than in most civilized lands he had visited, in consequence of the prevalent bad cookery. "The words of Goldsmith," said he,— "'Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends cooks!' were always present to my mind when at table there! They eschew honest cold roast beef, as though there were poison in meat but once cooked, served a second time, though Hamlet is authority for our taste in that respect.—The cold venison you did me the honor to compliment so highly, at lunch, this morning, L——, would have been offered you fried by our good Yankee cousins!" "The patron saint of la cuisine forefend!" cried a smooth-browed Englishman—"not re-cooked, I hope?" "Assuredly!" returned W——, "I trust these ladies and Colonel Lunettes will pardon me,—but such infamous stupidity is quite common. I soon learned, however, the secret of preserving my "capacious stomach" in unimpaired capacity for action, [an irresistibly 'What is't that takes from them Their stomach, pleasures, and their golden sleep, Why they do bend their eyes upon the earth, ******* In thick ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy!'" If the frank denunciations of this eccentric observer of life and manners might otherwise have been regarded as impolite, his more severe comments upon his own countrymen proved, at least, that no national partiality swayed his judgment. I remember his telling me the following anecdote, as we chatted over our coffee, after joining the ladies in the evening:—In answer to some inquiry on my part, respecting the social condition of the people—the peasantry, as he called them, of the Provinces, he spoke in unmitigated condemnation of their ignorance, and especially of their insolence and boorishness. "Get L—— to tell you," said he, "how nearly he and his servants were frozen to death one fierce night, while an infernal gate-keeper opposed his road-right. Then, again, the other morning, Mrs. M—— (our hostess) who like every other lady here, except, perhaps, Lady Bagot, goes to market every day, was referred by a man, from whom she inquired for potatoes, to an old crone, with the words—'This lady sell them,—here is a woman who wants to buy potatoes!'" The following morning, while our American party "What made the mystery more difficult of solution," said one of the other ladies, "was the equally imperturbable gravity of that handsome Frenchman who sat beside Virginia." "Handsome!" retorted Virginia, "do you call that man handsome!—his high cheek bones and swarthy complexion show his Indian blood rather too plainly for my taste, I must confess." "That commingling of races is very common here, Virginia," said I, "Mr.E—— is a somewhat prominent member of the Canadian Parliament. I heard a speech from him, in French, yesterday morning, which was listened to with marked attention. There were a number of ladies in the side-boxes, too, and it is evident from his attention to his dress, if for no other reason, that Mr.E—— is an ÉlÉgant!" "All that may be," rejoined Virginia, "but I have no fancy for light blue 'unwhisperables,' as Tom calls them, nor for ruffled shirts!" " "That, indeed, Col. Lunettes!—but for your ever-ready gallantry I would exclaim— 'Man delights me not, nor woman either!' but here we are at the entrance of the famous donjon keep!" We spent some time in examining the—to the ladies—novel attractions of the place. By-and-by, the fair Virginia, who had strayed off a little by herself, called to me to come and explain the mode of using a port-hole to her. In a few minutes, she said, in a low tone, sitting down, as she spoke upon a dismounted cannon, "Col. Lunettes, I beg you not to allude again to that—to the dinner, yesterday, or, at least, to my embarrassment"—— "Your embarrassment, my dear girl!" I exclaimed, "you astonish me! Do explain yourself"—— "Hush," returned my companion, looking furtively over her shoulder, "that young Englishman seems to be engrossing the attention of the rest of the party, and, perhaps, I shall have time to tell you"—— "Do, my dear, if anything has annoyed you—surely so old a friend may claim your confidence." "I have heard of the 'son of a gun,'" replied she, evidently making a strong effort to recall the natural sprightliness that seemed so singularly to have deserted her of late; "I don't see why I am The slight form of the speaker quivered visibly, and she paused abruptly. "Why, my poor child," said I, soothingly, "never mind it! How can you allow such a thing to distress you in this way?" "If anything of the kind had ever happened to me "Doctor, what may I eat?" inquired a dyspeptic American, who had just received a prescription from Abernethy—the eccentric and celebrated English physician. "Eat?" thundered the disciple of Galen, "the poker and tongs, if you will chew them well!" What a commingling of nations and characters there was in the little party of which I made one, on a serene evening, lang-syne, at Constantinople! We floated gently over the placid bosom of the sunset-tinted Golden Horn, rowed by four stout Mussulmans, and bound for that point of the shore of the Marmora nearest the suburb of Ezoub where The conversation naturally partook in character of the scene before us:—Near, towered the time-stained walls of the Seraglio—so long the cradling-place of successive Sultans, and then furnishing the embryo of the voluptuous pleasures of their anticipated paradise. Beyond, rose the ruin-crowned heights, the domes and minarets of old Stamboul, rich in historic suggestions, glowing now in the warmly-lingering smile of the departing day-god, "Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!" Before us, in our way over the crystal waters, From the broken sentences that, for some time, seemed most expressive of the contemplative mood engendered both by our surroundings and by the placidity of the hour, there gradually arose a somewhat connected discussion of the present condition of the Ottoman Porte. It is not my purpose to inflict upon you a detailed report of our discourse; but only to relate, for your amusement, a fragment of it, which somehow has, strangely enough, floated upwards from the darkened waters of the past, with sufficient distinctness to be snatched from the oblivion to which its utter insignificance might properly consign it. "There is not," said the British noble—a man curious in literature, and a somewhat speculative This last sentence was addressed especially to the sea-captain and me, the idiomatical English in which the passing fancy of the speaker found expression being wholly unintelligible to all except ourselves. "Their total want of a national literature," said the American, "does not so materially affect my comfort, I must confess, as the utter absence of decent civilization in their renowned capital. For instance, they have not an apology for a night-police in their confoundedly dark streets, except the infernal dogs that infest them. The other night, returning to my quarters, with my 'Ibrahim' pilot in front with a lantern, I was persuaded, as one of these 'faithful guardians' fastened his glistening ivories in my boot-top, that, like one of your 'lone stars' at New York, Colonel Lunettes, he had 'mistaken his man,' and supposed me to be the returned spirit of some one of the countless throng of infidel dogs, upon whom his public education had instructed him to make war to—the teeth!" "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Greek, in tones as musical as his dress and attitude were picturesque, from the pile of boat cloaks upon which he reposed in the bow of the boat, and opening his dark eyes till one saw far down into the dreamy depths of his "By thunder!" shouted the American, shaking himself up, as if at sea, with a suspicious sail in sight, "he is more than half right. Would you have thought it so late?" "Even a Yankee, like Captain ——, a fair representative of the Upon this, I made use of the little knowledge I possessed of the Turkish, to interrogate our Caidjis respecting the time further required to reach our landing-place. "Allah is great, and Mohammed is his Prophet!" was all I could fully apprehend of his slowly-delivered reply. It was now the captain's turn to laugh, and as his The only response of the devotee of the Prophet was a gutteral repetition of "Pekee! good! pekee! pekee!" But by an influence as effective as it was mysterious, our swan-like movement was exchanged for a most hope-encouraging velocity. "Bravo!" exclaimed my lord. "Bravissima!" intonated the Hun. "Go it, boys!" shouted the "old salt." "By the soul of Mithridates and the deeds of ThermopolÆ!" chimed in the scion of the "isles of Greece," catching the instinctively-intelligible contagion of the sportive moment. "And what said Uncle Hal?" you wonder, perhaps. Oh, I was listening to the low, melancholy, semi-howl in which the imperturbable Moslems were slowly chanting "GÜzal! pek gÜzal!" But, meeting the questioning glances of my companions, as their mirth began to subside, I contributed my humble quota to the general stock of fun by saying, with extreme gravity of voice and manner: "When will wonders cease in the Golden Horn! At first, even its unquestionable antiquity did not I remember to have been singularly impressed, when I read it, with an anecdote somewhat as follows: As too frequently happens on such occasions, a discussion in relation to some insignificant matter, into which a large party of men, who had dined together, and were lingering late over their wine, had fallen, gradually increased in vehemence and obstinacy of opinion, until frenzied excitement ruled the hour. "From words they almost came to blows, When luckily" the attention of one of the most furious of the disputants was suddenly arrested by the The gentleman pointed, with a smile, to a half-empty water-bottle beside him, and replied: "While the rest of the company have been industriously occupied in endeavoring to drown the distinctive attribute of man—reason—I have preserved its supremacy by simply confining myself to a non-intoxicating beverage." I trust you will not think the following somewhat quaint verses, from the pen of an old and now almost forgotten poet, a mal-À-propos conclusion to this letter: THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHERA Grecian youth, of talents rare, Whom Plato's philosophic care Had formed for Virtue's nobler view, By precept and example too, Would often boast his matchless skill To curb the steed, and guide the wheel; And as he passed the gazing throng With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong, The idiot wonder they expressed, Was praise and transport to his breast. At length, quite vain, he needs would show His master what his art could do; And bade his slaves the chariot lead To Academus' sacred shade. The trembling grove confessed its fright, The wood-nymphs started at the sight; The Muses drop the learned lyre, And to their inmost shades retire. Howe'er, the youth, with forward air, Bows to the Sage, and mounts the car; The lash resounds, the coursers spring, The chariot marks the rolling ring; And gathering crowds, with eager eyes, And shouts, pursue him as he flies. Triumphant to the goal returned, With nobler thirst his bosom burned; And now along the indented plain The self-same track he marks again; Pursues with care the nice design, Nor ever deviates from the line. Amazement seized the circling crowd; The youths with emulation glowed; E'en bearded sages hailed the boy, And all but Plato gazed with joy. For he, deep-judging sage, beheld With pain the triumph of the field: And when the charioteer drew nigh, And, flushed with hope, had caught his eye, "Alas! unhappy youth," he cried, "Expect no praise from me," (and sighed); "With indignation I survey Such skill and judgment thrown away: The time profusely squandered there On vulgar arts, beneath thy care, If well employed, at less expense, Had taught thee Honor, Virtue, Sense; And raised thee from a coachman's fate, To govern men, and guide the state." One seldom finds a nicer selection of words than those of the last lines of these admonitory stanzas. With the wish that they may gratify your literary acumen, I am, as ever, Your faithful friend, Harry Lunettes. Footnotes: |
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