^ 
 
 c o :s r yi n:s^ s k tst s e: . 
 
 A DASH AT DOTNGS OF THE DAY, 
 
 <ffifOfj)C VairtciUjoff. 
 
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 <^oc:^=- 
 
COMMON SENSE, 
 
 A DASH AT DOINGS OF THE DAY ; 
 
 SOCIAL SATIEE IN YEESE, 
 
 G^EO. "V^IS-DE^HOEF, A.. ]M. 
 
 Dixero si quid forte jocosius, hoc mihi juris 
 Cum venia dabis. 
 
 Hor. 
 
 9..^ 
 
 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 TlCKN"OR & EIEL33S, 
 
 NEW YORK: CROW EN, BROADWAY 
 
 BALTIMORE: LUCAS. 
 18 5 8. 
 
COMMON SENSE, 
 
 A SATIRE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Of all the Arts which human life could bless, 
 The heart's one need's the " Art of Happiness :'' 
 He whose clear brain and apt, inventive mind 
 A " royal road " to this great good should find, 
 Easy, secure, and fenced with safety round. 
 To every age would leave a name renown'd, 
 Of all mankind a greater benefactor 
 Than Godfrey'' s Cordial, or the Pain-Extr actor. 
 
 " Nil admirari " 's the Horatian rule ; 
 
 " Nought to admire " we construed it at school : 
 
 " Not to admire is all the art I know" 
 
 *' To make men happy and to keep them so ;" 
 *1 
 
5 DYSPEPSIA — DIETETICS. 
 
 Whether from a'er-wrought brain his sufferings rise, 
 
 Qro'^r-taxed stomach for a respite cries ; 
 
 In either case, the liver 's sure to speak, 
 
 And stamp its dent upon his hollow cheek ; 
 
 Muffled, wrapp'd up, of every breeze afraid, 
 
 He broils in sunshine, freezes in the shade ; 
 
 Nothing contents him ; to his fretful brain 
 
 Life is a burthen, everything a pain ; 
 
 To him, all things a jaundiced color wear 
 
 Cloth 'd in the yellow livery of despair ! ^ 
 
 So sure the body acts upon the mind, 
 
 So close is health of each with each combined. 
 
 Let Common Sense, kind Doctor, without fee, 
 Just see your tongue and point the remedy. 
 Eat good plain food, (not slops !) good meat I mean : 
 Eschew the fopperies of a French cuisine ; 
 Good beef and mutton, that's the vulgar stuff 
 That made our fathers hearty, brave and tough, 
 Steel'd their strong sinews like an iron bar, 
 In peace a ploughshare, and a sword in war ! 
 Eat slowly too ; and not at such a pace 
 As if your jaws were entered for a race, 
 
 (3) Dyspepsia (or dyspepsy, as the sufiferers generally call it,) is the 
 Vulture of the American liver; and the sallow, deep-lined and drawn-down visages 
 of young and old Prometheans proclaim the inward woe of which, these marks 
 externe are " the flag and sign." An attempt is made in the text to point out the 
 preventive or cure. 
 
TEMPERANCE — TOBACCO. 9 
 
 But let the process of your mastication 
 
 Be work'd on rule of ratiocination ; 
 
 For, sure, ivhat takes so little time to stow 
 
 Will need a longer settling time below. 
 
 Nor gorge in silence, like a dog or cat ; 
 
 The meal 's enlivened by a friendly chat ; 
 
 A hearty laugh, too, stirs the diaphragm. 
 
 And aids digestion of your beef and ham : 
 
 Of dishes, too, avoid variety ; 
 
 Think one a feast : as for sobriety. 
 
 Shun early cocktails, juleps, brandy-smashes, 
 
 Sure liver-burners, — liquid lightning-fashes ! 
 
 Nor let '■^ fast friends " your complaisance beguile 
 
 T' indulge, too oft, the ante-prandial " smile P^ 
 
 " No drink till dinner " is a golden rule. 
 
 And much drink with it proves a man a fool ! 
 
 If wise, you'll take a glass or two of sherry, 
 
 But 'ware Champagne or hock ! tho' pleasant very, 
 
 They're gout's sworn friends, — e'en if you get the real, — 
 
 And sham Champagne gives pain that's not ideal. 
 
 Then, if you please, indulge in a cigar : 
 But oh, do?it chew ! Tobacco juice will mar 
 Digestion, teeth, and give the breath a taint 
 Will shock your sweet-heart, make her almost faint : 
 Then think what favors sweet and rare he loses, 
 
10 EXERCISE. 
 
 Who chews and chews, lohen e'er to chew he chooses, 
 And keeping up a constant salivation 
 That floods the floor, (a vile abomination !) 
 Makes " horrid stygian pools" around his seat 
 In room or car, compelling ladies' feet 
 To pick their way, as in a puddled street. 
 Then take my counsel, (else, be sure you'll rue it) 
 And, when tobacco tempts, don't chew, eschew it ! 
 
 'Mong health's most certain friends and best allies 
 Rank the cold bath^ fresh air, exercise ; 
 The early dip, or sponge, — a walk or cricket, 
 The manly strife to hit, or keep the wicket; 
 Or after bathing, mount your trotting mare, 
 Dash o'er the upland, drink the perfum'd air ; 
 Or in light boat, with muscle well-applied, 
 And feather'd oar, cleave through the sparkling tide ; 
 Then, you'll to breakfest with an appetite, 
 Enjoy the day and soundly sleep at night. 
 
 Another thing I must take leave to say : 
 Don't give the Dentist such unbounded sway : 
 Think Nature'^ s ivories better than are sold, 
 Nor deem your mouth enriched by plugs of gold! 
 
RELAXATION. 11 
 
 Prevention's ounce is worth a pound of cure j 
 And early cave will flawless teeth ensure.* 
 
 But wo to him who keeps a constant strain 
 Upon that fine machinery — the brain ! 
 It will not stand perpetual fret and toil , 
 The wear and tear demands some drops of oil : 
 Better, ten times, to let the dollars go, 
 Than overtax man's noblest organ so ! 
 God gave us reason, to employ its powers 
 In serious aims, and gild our leisurs hours ; 
 Man's be the sin, if Sampsoa-like, he pull 
 The Temple down, and God's great gift annul ; 
 Using the strength, that is our boast, our pride, 
 To wreck itself, — a moral suicide ! 
 
 Youth seeks amusement as for light of day 
 Pine flowers, and drink bright colors from its ray : 
 Who would condemn to shade the rose's bloom, 
 Or bid it waste on darkness its perfume \ 
 
 (4) The early age at which young people— cAz'Wren even, — test the dentist's skill, 
 not in extraction merely, but in svpplemenlal contrivances, — filing, filling and 
 re-placing — ai-gues either an extraordinary precocity of dental rfecay, or a pre- 
 cocious proclivity to assume the infirmities of manhood. A youth scarce deems 
 himself "a man " till he has a tooth or two filled with gold ; with this mark, and a 
 cigar or a " plug of tobacco " in his mouth besides, at fourteen years of age he ex« 
 pects 
 
 " Nature to stand up 
 And say to all the world " This is a man .'" 
 
12 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 As well Youth's fresh impulsive spring to cage 
 And chill its summer with the frosts of age 1 
 Those solemn Mentors who, with awful frown, 
 Would put each popular amusement down, 
 Bar whist, the Theatre, the lively dance. 
 Send Waltz and Polka skipping back to France, 
 May well take heed lest in their their zeal to curse 
 Each favorite sport, they drive their flocks to worse 
 
 There is a time for serious thought, for prayer. 
 An hour for pleasure and an hour for care ; 
 The mind must have relief, relax, unbend. 
 Or stupor, gloom, will be its dismal end ; 
 Mere idleness is the high road to sin, 
 The heart, all empty, lets the tempter in; 
 Depriv'd of wholesome spur, 'twill fly to evil, 
 And give itself to rum and to the devil ; 
 Well if the gallows-tree, or maniac's chain. 
 Revenge not Nature and her outraged reign. 
 
 The point to aim at 's menial recreation, 
 The rock to shun is moral dissipation ; 
 Plain Common Sense may surely draw the line, 
 Without the aid of Schoolman or Divine. 
 
LECTURES — DANCING. 13 
 
 The Elephant that stands upon his head 
 And dances hornpipes, surely can't be said— 
 With all his aptness for insane tuiiion, — 
 To be an Intellectual Exhibition : 
 And none, I'm sure, but very silly gabies, . 
 To woolly horses flock, or bogus-babies.^ 
 
 The friendly circle, and the sprightly talk, 
 The social Tea, (no scandal !) ev'ning walk 
 Or country drive, piano-forte, song 
 From Trovatore, or " Miss Lucy Long," 
 Will speed Time's wings, are charming in their way, 
 But do not fill the void of every day. 
 With winter nights, Lyceum lectures come. 
 And answer well, if not made too hum-drum; 
 Provided too, the Lecturer make a dash 
 To serve up something 7ieiv, not give a hash 
 ■< Of old, odd essays ready to his hand, 
 Like Jersey- Cider, with a Champagne brand! 
 
 Next, comes the sprightly Ball, the gay Saloon, 
 The graceful waltz, the sparkling Polka tune ; 
 
 (5) No exhibition is too absurd or too disgusting, if a quarter can be got for it 
 from the gullible public. Thus when a woman, to entitle herself to a life-Estate 
 on the death of her murdered husband, set up a " bogus " or supposititious baby, 
 as her own issue, (having gone through the farce of a pretended maternity) and 
 was for this attempted fraud imprisoned, the "bogus baby" was hired and 
 exhibited to the morbid curiosity of crowds. 
 2 
 
14 THE BALL ROOM. 
 
 The gem-starr'd toilette, dazzling to the sight, 
 
 The blaze of beauty radiant with delight, 
 
 The rushing tide of many-twinkling feet, 
 
 That ebb and flow, advance and then retreat, — 
 
 Dash thro' the narrows, where the breakers meet, — 
 
 Or, whirling in delirious motion by. 
 
 The Angels, bless them ! seem as they would fly. 
 
 Entrancing pleasure this, and harmless, too, — 
 Unless its course too wildly you pursue : 
 Hot rooms, late hours, the waltz's giddy whirl. 
 Repeated nightly wear the rose from pearl 
 On cheeks whose bloom began the season bright, 
 To end it, withered by a Polka-blight ! 
 Plain Common Sense will lead you to confess 
 The bane of dancing lies in its excess ; 
 In moderate use, it gives the spirits zest, 
 Abused, it leaves them jaded and depress'd : 
 And here, again, my reasoning 's clear and close, 
 E'en pellets poison, in too large a dose ! 
 
 Enjoy the Dance in measure, if you please ; 
 But keep good time, and learn to dance with ease, 
 Not like the Pilgrim treading upon peas ! 
 "What makes that Beau a favorite with each Belle ? 
 
ATLANTIC CABLE. 15 
 
 The man's an ass — hut then, he polkas well; 
 So bears the palm from brightest Wit who goes 
 With awkward body, and m-verted toes ! 
 Nor don't meet pleasure with funereal air, 
 As if a solemn duty call'd you there, 
 Gloss o'er your dulness with a smiling face. 
 And " tho' you have it not, assume a grace :" 
 You've dress'd for holiday, all trim and natty, 
 Then pray be gay, good-humor'd, lively, chatty; 
 Don't leave your partner wholly to mum-chancey 
 But, in the breathing pauses of the dance, 
 Talk, entertain her with the latest news. 
 The last smart book, or aught that will amuse ; 
 Sink dollars J cut the store, — tho'' trade red-hot -on — 
 Forget molasses, flour, dry goods and cotton ; 
 Let business lose its all-engrossing power. 
 And give yourself entirely to the hour ! 
 
 From Pan's rude reeds the solemn organ grew ; 
 A panting kettle first attention drew 
 To steam's vast power : e'en Fulton might have toil'd 
 And died unknown, — had not the kettle hoiVd ! 
 To Franklin's kite that drew from heav'n its fire. 
 We trace the germ of telegraphic wire. 
 And two vast continents shall owe the joy 
 Of close communion, to a paper toy: 
 
16 THE DRAMA — HINDOSTAN. 
 
 For tho' a jerk the cable chanced to snap, 
 
 Success will crown it, spite of this mishap ; 
 
 'Tis but delayed until another year, 
 
 The self-adjusting break will make all clear ! — ^ 
 
 From small beginnings vast conceptions rise. 
 
 If sound, the project lives, if hollow, dies ! 
 
 So, from the humble plank of Thespis' cart, 
 
 First dawn'd the Drama, rose the actor's art ; 
 
 How vast a progress from the crude, first thought 
 
 Have mellowing Time and conqu'ring Genius wrought I 
 
 Where Ganges rolls — 'ere Europe's stage began, 
 A native Drama rose in Hindostan — ''' 
 Where Fiends now act a hideous Tragedy 
 And outraged woman's shrieks for vengeance cry ! 
 Nor cry in vain ! Proud Delhi falls to dust, 
 Stronghold and tomb of cruelty and lust ; 
 The faithless Sepoy bites the bloody plain 
 And England's ensign flouts the breeze again ! 
 
 O'er LucKNOW gathers next, War's thunder-storm. 
 Round Lucknow's wall infuriate demons swarm ; 
 Lucknow, with men where tender women share 
 The siege's horrors, battling 'gainst despair, 
 
 (6) These lines were spoken in New York In November, 1857, eight months 
 before the successful laj-ing of the Atlantic Cable, 
 
 (7) Sir Wm. Jones tell us that "the Tragedies, Comedies and musical pieces of 
 the Indian Theatre would fill as many volumes as that of ancient or Modern Europe." 
 
 Leitch Ritchie's Hist. Oriental Nations. 
 
LUCKNOW — JESSIE BROWN". 17 
 
 Where a brave few 'gainst baffled myriads strive, 
 Sworn not to yield while but one man survive ; 
 Fell hunger wastes their strength ; nearer, each day. 
 The deadly mine works its insidious way ; — 
 On all sides Death stares in their doomed eyes, 
 Still each with each in patient courage vies : — 
 A few hours more must end their agonies ! 
 
 A Scottish lassie, sair wi 'toil oppress'd, 
 Wrapt in her plaid, sinks down, worn out, to rest. 
 And says, with mind half-crazed, " Pray call me now, 
 As soon as Father comes home from the plough." 
 By night and day, with rare, unwearied zeal, 
 She 's cheer'd the soldiers, brought their scanty meal, 
 Borne orders to the walls, the wounded nurs'd, 
 With words of comfort slaked their dying thirst ; 
 Now lies she hush'd amid the battle's din. 
 And sleeps j as if on earth there were no sin ! 
 In dreams she wanders o'er her native hills, 
 Lured by the strain that Scotia's children thrills; 
 And, as the much-loved notes all faintly rise, 
 They seem an Angel-whisper from the skies ; 
 Sudden, she starts from sleep, throws up her arms, 
 And listens, eager, thro' the war's alarms ! 
 What new-born transport lights her sunken eye, 
 Flushing her pallid cheek with ecstacy ? 
 • *2 
 
18 THE PIBROCH. 
 
 Entranced awhile she stands, like one inspired, 
 
 Then, wild, as if by sudden phrenzy fired, 
 
 '•We 're saved," she cries, "we 're saved ! It is nae dream; 
 
 *^ The Highland Slogan ! listen to it's scream !" 
 
 Then to the batteries with swift step she ran. 
 
 And, in a tone that thrills each drooping man, 
 
 " Courage !" she cries, Heav'n sends us help at last, 
 
 " Hark to McGregor's Slogan on the blast !" 
 
 The soldiers cease their fire ; all hold their breath. 
 
 Spell-bound and fix'd, a pause of life or death ! 
 
 Each nerve they strain to catch the promised sound,— 
 
 In vain I The red artillery thunders round ; 
 
 Nought else ! Still Jessie cries in accents clear — 
 
 " The Slogan's ceas'd ; but hark, ! din ye no hear 
 
 " The Campbell's pibroch swell upon the breeze 1 
 
 '• They're coming ! hark !" — then, falling on her knees, 
 
 "We're saved," she cries, "we're saved ! O thanks to GodI" 
 
 And fainting sinks upon the blood-stained sod. 
 
 'Tis no girl's dream ; for, swelling on the gale, 
 
 McGregor's pibroch pours its piercing wail; 
 
 That shrill, that thrilling sound, half threat, half woe, 
 
 Speaks life to us, destruction to the foe : 
 
 Loud and more loud it grows, till strong and clear 
 
 " Should auld acquaintance" rings upon the ear : 
 
 By solemn impulse mov'd, the whole host there. 
 
HAVELOCK. 19 
 
 Bowed in the dust aud breathed a silent prayer ; 
 Poured out their thanks to God in grateful tears ; 
 Then sprang to arms and rent the air with cheers ; 
 The loyal English cheer " God save the Queen " 
 The Bagpipes answer with " For auld lang Syne ! " 
 The Seventy-eighth it is ! the gallant band 
 Bring news that Havelock is close at hand, — 
 The Chief that never failed in hour of need, 
 Patient and sure, faithful in word and deed ! 
 With glad embraces saved and saviours meet, 
 Long parted comrades comrades gaily great, 
 From every lip on Jessie blessings pour 
 Sibyl of hope, and heroine of the hour ! 
 
 Alas ! e'en while my fleeting line has breath, 
 England, bewildered, mourns her Havelock's death ; 
 Cut off too soon to reap his full renown 
 He leaves to others hands the half- won crown ; 
 With not one blemish on his honored name, 
 His is the guerdon of a double fame, — 
 Blameless and pure in all that hallows life. 
 Yet foremost in the battle's fiercest strife ; 
 E'en Envy's self, abash'd, at his approach 
 Bows to the Christian Knight, sans peur et sans reproche. 
 
 But soon a morn of vengeance shall arise I 
 Just Retribution rouses at the cries 
 
20 THE STAGE. 
 
 Of outraged matron, butcher'd wife and child, 
 Of sister tortured, budding maid defiled, 
 And all the hoarded infamies that dwell 
 In tyrant's brain or superstition's hell ! 
 That dreadful writing on the blood-stained wall 
 " Remember us, Revenge us ! " cries to all ! 
 Who shall withold the soldier's righteous wrath ? 
 Who shall divert Heaven's lightning from its path ? 
 Charge, Campbell, charge, and be thy battle cry 
 ^''Doom to the foes of all Humanity 1''''^ 
 
 E'en here, in this wild land, in earliest age 
 The Hindoo had his Drama and his stage : 
 In every age, in prose, blank verse, or ryhme 
 Some form of Drama lives in every clime 
 Think you the stage plays an ignoble part, 
 That thus it stirs the Universal Heart? 
 The world's great glass, wherein Humanity 
 May view, in action. Life's epitome ! 
 
 The Stage's purpose ask of Common Sense ; 
 'Tis, surely, to amuse witliout offence : 
 Argue, refine, and varnish as you may, 
 That's the main end, and aim of every play: 
 
 (8) These lines were first delivered at New York on the 25th of January, close 
 upon the receipt, there, of the news of Havelock's death. 
 
TRAGEDY. 21 
 
 'Tis not the province of a social Art 
 To lash at vies, and snatch the Pulpit's part : 
 The painter's pencil takes no moral view : — 
 Good taste requires his drawing shall be true, 
 His colours fair, perspective just ; the scene. 
 Such as from Nature'' s studio he may glean : 
 Tell him his works no moral maxim teach, 
 •He'll say — his business is to paint, not preach ; 
 Sufficient if his canvas shall display 
 No vulgar detail, no offensive troit.^ 
 Such, too, the Drama's plea and just defence, 
 Arraign'd before the Bar of Common Sense. 
 
 The Tragic Muse Man's deepest passions shows : 
 
 Invests with life imaginary w'oes. 
 
 Or lays the wounded, writhing spirit bare. 
 
 In all the torture of a black despair : — 
 
 But when for harlot guilt she claims our tears. 
 
 Then drive her from the scene with mocking jeers ; 
 
 A recreant, false, deceitful, whimp'ring jade 
 
 That sports with feeling, and makes tears a trade !^" 
 
 Whose is the fault if you don't interfere 1 
 
 (9) This is a good ryhme to English ears, a bad one to American ; in England, 
 the word fraif retains its french sound in pronounciation, (like tray ;) in America 
 it is anglicised to rhyme with/a^e. 
 
 (10) As in such plays as La Dame aux Camelias ; produced on the American 
 Stage under the tittle of Camille, in which a harlot is the heroine, and dies a martyr 
 to virtuous love, the hard-heartedness of Society and — Consumption .' 
 
22 SHAKSPERE. 
 
 The players act what you delight to hear : 
 Did you but hiss, or, better, stay away. 
 You'd ostracise each false, licentious play, 
 No manager repeats what does not pay. 
 
 Yet nobly Shakspere's acted moral shows, 
 That straight from heart to head instruction goes; 
 Not by dull rule or musty apothegm 
 Conceiv'd in spleen, begot in cynic phlegm : 
 His is no fable with a moral tail 
 Tack'd on for clearness, if the text should fail : — 
 Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, Shylock, Lear, 
 No shadowy forms from fancy's realm appear, 
 But living, thinking, tortured flesh and bloody 
 As if before our eyes exact they stood : 
 We see them, know them, feel they acted so ; 
 Question their minds, wonder what next they'll do ; 
 And when, at length the closing curtain's down, 
 We grieve, as if the suff'ring were our own, 
 Take home the lesson to our silent bed, 
 And con the sermon by the poet read. 
 
 Thus Shakspere works ; but you need not be told 
 When Nature made his mind she broke the mould ;^^ 
 
 (11) This idea I borrowed (unconsciously at the time, — I discovered the source 
 afterwards,) from Byron's Monody to Sheridan : but it is surely, much more appli- 
 cable to Shakspere ; brilliant as Sheridan was, his genius was not, like Shakspere's, 
 universal. 
 
COMEDY. 23 
 
 Her greatest triumph and her sole despair ; 
 He " had no brother " and he left no heir ; 
 No second Shakspere shall the world e'er see, — 
 Abstract and voice of all Humanity ! 
 
 The Comic Muse trips lightly on the stage, 
 Holding her mirror to the fleeting Age : 
 With wit and humor harmless laughter moves, 
 Mocks fashion's follies, and its fickle loves ; 
 With diamond pencil polishes her phrase, 
 And many-coloured forms of life displays. 
 What if false sentiment, perhaps e'en worse 
 Loose words, may stain the comic poet's verse 1 
 Efface them, — hiss ! they are its shame, not boast; 
 Shall useful service for a icord be lost ? 
 The skilful Doctor does the best he can 
 To cure the fever not to kill the man. 
 
 The Drama 's now a great establish'd fact 
 That can't be blink'd, ignored ; howe'er attack'd 
 By vain abuse or angry predjudice ; 
 The time 's gone by^when playing was a vice; 
 When bigots mark'd the actor with a ban, 
 (Tho' saintly crowds to hear his accents ran,) 
 Denied him sacred rite and hallowed grave, — 
 Filching from God the soul he made to save, — 
 
24 COMMON SENSE — WIT. 
 
 And, for the pleasure which his life had giv'n 
 
 On earth, refused him, dead, a place in heav'n. 
 
 No ! wiser days bring gentler feelings in, 
 
 And " Nature's touches make the whole world kin ! "^^ 
 
 Then, since no power can " put the Drama down ;" 
 
 Best try, by reason, to improve its tone : 
 
 Don't cut it root and branch, with ruthless knife, 
 
 But wisely prune it to more healthful life ; 
 
 So shall it thrive and bloom a goodly tree^ — 
 
 Bearing rich fruit, from blight, or canker free ; 
 
 Ennobling thoughts shall twine around its stem. 
 
 It's leaves shall grace the Poet's diadem. 
 
 Domestic virtues flourish in its shade, 
 
 Till moralists, disarm'd, shall own its aid 
 
 To warn, instruct, encourage, and persuade. 
 
 Thus may we hedge within a prudent fence. 
 
 Our very pleasures, taught by Common Sense. 
 
 Plain Common Sense ! she's not a brilliant dame, 
 But solid, calm, enduring, still the same ; 
 No vain coquette, like Wit, now up, now down. 
 And known to every idler of the town ; 
 Like a good housewdfe, faithful to her post, 
 While Wit goes gadding, and ne'er counts the cost, 
 
 (13) The absurd bigotry that formerly excommunicated Actors and denied them 
 the rites of the Church, in Roman Catholic Countries, is now mentioned to be smiled 
 at. Fancy Moliere being denied burial in consecrated ground ! 
 
THE COQUETTE. 25 
 
 To health, good name, to husband or his pocket, — 
 So rises, flashes, dies, — a burnt out rochet! 
 
 Give me the woman that's not fashion^s slave,^^ 
 That dares the false decrees of ton to brave, 
 And I will wear her in my heart of heart, — 
 Yea, in its inmost core, — till death us part / 
 
 See the CCquette, in satin and brocade, 
 Or deep'^ . velvet panoply arrayed. 
 Rush, panting-, off to Fashion's fancy fair. 
 To flaunt, be jostled, stared at and to stare ; 
 Nor blush to meet the glances of the crowd 
 With glance as bold, loud talk, and laugh as loud ; 
 Proud as a peacock spreads her plumage gay. 
 Disports her charms and chatters like a jay, 
 With wondrous power of contract and dilation, 
 Adjusts each swell and gentle undulation ; 
 In her a miracle of art is seen, — 
 She moves a mystery — of crinoline : 
 While beaux, enraptured with her glances luminous, 
 Doubt if she's more vo-luptuous or vo-luminous ! 
 With flush of conquest all her bosom glows, 
 It lights her eyes, her cheek, her very nose; 
 She flirts, she ogles, simpers, sups and icesj 
 
 (15) " Give me that man that is not passion's slave," &c.— Hamlet. 
 3 
 
26 SARATOGA. 
 
 Beau after beau to swell her train entices, 
 
 Waltzes and polkas, till she's wearied out 
 
 By the hard labor of the Gala-rout ; 
 
 Or pale with envy quits the fading scene, 
 
 Chill'd by the triumph of some newer queen, — 
 
 With eyes bedimm'd, dull cheek and aching head, 
 
 At four o'clock goes sullen home to bed ! 
 
 But this can't last : not Hercules could bear 
 The constant waste of pleasure's wear and tear : — 
 The winter's routs are o'er ; soft Summer's smile 
 Invites the fair one to recruit awhile, 
 Spreads out the treasures of Dame Nature's breast, 
 And fondly wooes the truant child to rest : — 
 Rest ! comfort ! bah ! 'tis her delight to roam, 
 She loathes the dulness of a quiet home ; 
 So Pa and Ma to Saratoga's waters 
 Are dragged to please four marriageable daughters ;- 
 Or off to Newport, or some cahn retreat, 
 Where life's sole end's to dress and flirt and eat ; 
 (To dress for breakfast, — and, as I'm a sinner, 
 To dress for bath, for lunch, and then for dinner ; 
 The dinner o'er, to dress for pro7nenade, 
 JPwZZ-dress for evening, and wn-dress for bed !) 
 Change their large house in town for rooms 
 About the size of cells in New York " Tombs ;" 
 
NEWPORT. 27 
 
 Fly the " hot city " for a fresher air 
 
 And swelter coolly, up a back three pair ! 
 
 Rush with a crowd, luxuriate in quiet, 
 
 Midst crush and hurry, scramble, row and riot ; 
 
 For gilded misery pay a monstrous price, 
 
 And vow the hotel's an earthly paradise ! 
 
 Miss shines at breakfast, of her toilette proud, 
 Light as a fairy in her muslin cloud ; 
 Accepts a partner for the dip at noon, 
 Just as she'd take one for the ball saloon : 
 In light, loose robe disports upon the sea. 
 As Undine graceful, and as Undine free, 
 While her bold Triton lifts her in his arms, 
 Proud of the burthen of his Nereid's charms ; 
 " Teaches her young idea how to" swi7n, 
 And, if she^s nervous, bids her lean on him! 
 Don't start ! all's right! you know 'tis in the ocean, — 
 On land, indeed, she'd have a different notion : 
 Salt water makes folks squeamish, I've heard say, 
 But here, it acts in quite another way : 
 And what, on shore, might shock a prudish daughter, 
 Papa must own's quite proper — m the ivater! 
 
 At night the polka and the waltz invite her, 
 Just as in town, and here as there, delight her; 
 
28 STABLE ATTACHMENTS. 
 
 Here, as in town, to triumph she aspires, 
 
 And, wearied out, just as in town, retires : 
 
 Looks in her tell-tale glass with hollow eyes. 
 
 Marking her beauty's waning glory, sighs, — 
 
 Sinks down to snatch a feverish repose. 
 
 And wonders that the men still " don't propose: " 
 
 From year to year the self-same round pursues, 
 
 And every season, vows of change renews, 
 
 Till beauty, health, youth, cheerfulness, all fade. 
 
 And leave her withered,— a co7iJirm^d old maid! 
 
 Things have been known to take a stranger course ; 
 'Tis hard to trace some feelings to their source, — 
 So, to conjecture one is quite unable 
 Why Miss should take a husband /rom the stable ! 
 'Twere well, indeed, if poor Papa would keep 
 His eyes wide open, nor fall fast asleep, 
 Just when, good man, he should be most observant. 
 To stop his child's eloping with his servant V^ 
 
 (16) Ladies have certainly a right to follow their own taste in the choice of a 
 husband, though that taste, as TrmcK^o says of Misery, may "acquaint them 
 wiQi strange bed-fellows." The chaste Goddess Diana loved the hunter Endymion, 
 and the very-much-other^oise Empress Catherine chose her favorites from her hody- 
 ^uard. rotemkin and Lanskoi were but troopers, yet the modern Messalma found 
 them " marvellous proper men," and lavished millions in rewarding and enriching 
 them. Still, as Garrick's— not Shakspere's— Romeo says : 
 
 " Fathers have flinty hearts," 
 and -papa "would rather see John^s back on the box seat, than his face, (good- 
 ooking as it may be) in close approximation with his daughter's. 
 
THE WOMAN OF SENSE. 29 
 
 Yet, after all, why's such a wonder made? 
 An English bishop wed his kitchen maid 
 The other day, (see " Times") and, being afraid 
 The secret might leak out, resigned his mitre, 
 With snug retiring pension to delight her : 
 For naught's too wild for that capricious God 
 Who rules both man and beast with tyrant rod ! 
 The last despairing victim was a dove, 
 That lost his mate and drowrCd himself for love !^'' 
 You smile I I read it in a daily print. 
 And if the papers lie, the deuce is in't ! 
 The man who doubts the statements of his journal, 
 Will call in question, next, \\\e powers infernal! 
 
 But to return — Plain Common Sense, meanwhile, 
 Looks on these naughty doings with a smile, 
 In which more pity than contempt in seen. 
 And keeps her wonted course, unmoved, serene : 
 Takes all amusement, in a moderate way, 
 Enjoys a dance, does not despise a play, 
 Affects no starch'd severity of air, 
 Duty and pleasure takes in equal share. 
 Doubtful in which she finds the most delight ; 
 But ne'er turns night to day, nor day to night; 
 
 (17) A correspondent of a Philadelphia paper states, that the female of a pair of 
 doves that he had, was carried ofif by a cat before the eyes of her mate, which, there- 
 upon flew to the neighboring horsepond, and " incontinently drowned himself!" 
 #3 
 
so 
 
 E'en at the Opera preserves her wits, 
 
 Admires the tenor, yet does not have jits 
 
 Of rapture, roll her eyes, and thrill, 
 
 At each new grace of cadence, roulade, trill ; 
 
 Skilful at crochet-work, Potichomanie, 
 
 And Grecian Painting, — (the' not such a zany 
 
 To think Sevres' china, or a fine engraving 
 
 Are not superior to ArVs mahe-helieving ; 
 
 Or fancy, tints of red and blue and yellow 
 
 Can change a paltry print to a Raffaello /) 
 
 Content at home, she likes a country ride. 
 
 In quiet lane, with one she loves beside ; 
 
 For tho' admirers crowd, there's one alone 
 
 From whose dear lips she brooks a lover''s tone ; 
 
 Is not borne down by Fashion's whirling tide, — 
 
 Good-Taste the pilot that she takes for guide, — 
 
 Beholds sweep by her, calm and undismayed, 
 
 The painted pomp of pleasure's proud parade, 
 
 Prefers a useful to a splendid life. 
 
 And ripens, sweetly, from the maid to wife ; 
 
 Welcomes her husband's friends, her ample board 
 
 Crown'd with the best of fare her means afford, — 
 
 For tho' her heart is large, and free her hand, 
 
 She keeps her wishes under due command, — 
 
 Ever well dress'd, to please her husband's eye, 
 
 His fame ne'er suffers from her vanity ; 
 
OPINIONS, 31 
 
 In friendship firm, to neighbors courteous, kind, 
 Her face reflects the beauty of her mind, 
 And, years beyond the date of passion's dream. 
 Preserves affection, love, respect, esteem ; 
 For all these feelings in her honor blend, 
 As wife, as mother, sweet companion — friend. 
 
 Opinions, too, she holds, on general matters ; 
 Nor knave nor fool with feign'd assent e'er flatters ; 
 Gambling detests, yet takes a hand at whist, 
 Speaks French with ease, is not a latinist : 
 Sits horseback well, tho' not an A7nazone, — 
 And likes her roast-beef rather under-done; 
 Reads wholesome fiction that has something true, 
 Not all unsound at heart, like Eugene Sue ; 
 But honest, hearty, earnest, pure narration, 
 With no vile taint or foul mystification : — 
 Knows well that " all that glitters is not gold," 
 That lobby members trade and votes are sold ; 
 That rail-road stock takes quite a difierent air 
 Just as the speaker may be bull or bear ; 
 Mourns New York fallen into vicious habits, 
 Between her " Ugly Plugs " and live "Dead Rabbits," 
 Whose daily murders make it strange appear 
 Where lifeh so cheap, that living should be dear! — 
 She's not bedazzled by each glitt'ring name 
 
32 UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 To pant, ungifted, for the actress' fame ;^^ 
 
 She's not suspicious, tho' quite ivide-awake, 
 
 So can't to each new " ism " kindly take ; 
 
 In judgment constant, firm without conceit, 
 
 Reveres religion, scorns a hypocrite; 
 
 Nor will you catch her understanding napping 
 
 When Mediums offer tests of spirit-rapping ; 
 
 She don't believe " dead uncles " from the tomb 
 
 Like France'' s Emperor gulVd hy Doctor Hume ; 
 
 In short, foe to all " shams," true, sound, discreet. 
 
 She hails the prophet, scouts the cunning cheat ; 
 
 By Christian faith assured, holds on her way 
 
 In spite of all that mocking sceptics say, 
 
 Faith, Hope and Charity inspire her breast, 
 
 At peace with God and with itself at rest ! 
 
 (18) OnS of the Manias of the day that affects some minds is the illusory idea 
 which the afflicted person entertains that he or she possesses great dramatic genius. 
 
ipjLRi: II. 
 
 Supreme for ill oar Passions rear their crest, 
 The deadly civil-foes that tear the breast ; 
 Intemp'ranee, Rage and Lust hold fearful sway, 
 Still mark their victim, strike their daily prey : 
 iN'o limits bound the horrors of the day. 
 Men kill for passion, and boys kill for play ; 
 The fiend whose deeds make sick humanity. 
 Mocks at the law in feign'd insanity ; 
 That two-edg'd plea gives crime impunity, — 
 Excess of guilt proves guilt's immunity, — 
 Proclaims free trade to wholesale frauds and crimes 
 Got up with horrors " suited to the times ;^^ 
 The wretch who butchers hecatombs of lives 
 By " a fine frenzy " urged, pleads mad and thrives ; 
 While he who peddles guilt, in smaller way, 
 No loop-hole finds ; thus Justice seems to say : — 
 "J. little murder is a dangerous thing, 
 '^Dip deep in blood or you will surely swing P^ 
 So bold-faced Vice a legal licence gains, 
 Small sins alone meet penalties and pains ; 
 
34 THE SOCIAL BLOT. 
 
 Poor Justice, crippled, hobbles to her seat 
 The scoff of every ruffian in the street : 
 Unpunish'd Crime stalks rampant thro' the land, 
 And Murder, scathless, bares his bloodstain'd hand 
 Until, at length, a " Vigilance Committee" 
 Instal themselves the guardians of the City ; 
 Law is suspended, Juries set aside ; 
 In midnight Council men are doom'd, untried ; 
 The tyrant-rule starts into life again 
 Of poor old Veriice, and her secret Teji ! 
 " Principiis obsta " be the maxim still : 
 Withstand the first abuse, first step to ill : 
 This daily chipping at the Constitution 
 May work at last a hole, like Revolution ! 
 
 Bedizen'd, decked in Babylon's array, 
 Hiding 'neath rouge and pearl her youth's decay, 
 The bloated wanton flaunts it in our streets, 
 With brazen front our wives and daughters meets, 
 Lolls in a carriage that, for state and pride, 
 Eclipses all the train that rolls beside. 
 Lures the fond youth, with meretricious wile, 
 To breathe the Upas-poison of her smile, 
 And feed her cry of leech^for more and morey 
 With treasure rifled from another^ s store ; 
 Betrays him daily, with a Judas-kiss 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE. 35 
 
 And honey'd words, more fell than serpent's hiss, 
 Till, lost to honor, in her foul embrace, 
 He wakes to misery, loathing and disgrace. 
 Then what ensues? Discovery, prison, shame, 
 A blighted fortune and a felon's name ! 
 The sister trembles when that name is spoken, 
 The mother's heart her boy's disgrace has broken, 
 The father sinks, ere nature's course be run, 
 The grave his shelter from a recreant son ! 
 
 For, breach of moral and of social laws, 
 From vice to crime the blind offender draws ; 
 Thus Brigham Young's polygamous connection 
 Leads him at length to open insurrection. 
 And to maintain plurality of wives 
 He'll risk the slaughter of ten thousand lives ! 
 
 The headlong race of wild extravagance, 
 Rushing to ruin as to feast or dance, — 
 The rage for costly dress, pomp, luxury, 
 That urges all in reckless rivalry, — 
 The mad excitement in which men engage, — 
 Staid middle-lifa, frail youth and moneyed age, — 
 Work their own end, and too oft tell the tale 
 Why Clerks embezzle, and employers fail. 
 A moderate income, earned by honesty. 
 Our pleasures, dress, expense by modesty 
 
36 MERCANTILE HONOR. 
 
 Contrull'd and sense, will yield us more content 
 Than pilfer'd thousands, in dishonor spent. 
 
 Why should the Exchange in nicest honor yield 
 To belted knight or victor on the field 1 
 Do sword and plume an amulet bestow 
 To shield the heart from all that's mean and low 1 
 Is there no chivalry but that of arms J 
 Must honor sleep till roused by war's alarms'? 
 The Merchant-Bayard is his Country's pride, 
 And, " honor saved," may see all lost, beside, 
 Nor blush ! Bad times may overtake the best ; 
 Disgrace can't reach the uncorrupted breast ! 
 Chance may w/i-make the fortune chance has made ; 
 None but the coward will the fall'n upbraid ; — 
 Still, it behoves us, in our sunniest hour. 
 To think that skies may change, and tempests lour ; 
 Nor, rashly, scatter to the morning breeze 
 The budding flow'rs that evening's breath may freeze. 
 Shall a few lucky strokes so cloud the brain 
 As make us proud, luxurious, swollen, vain, 
 Eager with Europe's courtly herds to vie, 
 While old Republican simplicity 
 Is voted low^ a gawky and a bore, 
 And " not at home " 's her answer at the door ! 
 
A PORTRAIT. 37 
 
 What can give worth to riches but their use 
 To worthy ends — nor niggard nor profuse ? 
 For Luxury steeps the sense in night-mare vice, 
 While, dead'nmg every virtue. Avarice 
 Benumbs the soul, — the hearfs paralysis. 
 Fortune 's a fickle jade ; who then would lean 
 Good name and hopes upon so frail a quean 1 
 Who'd trust her smiles that flatter to betray, 
 'Wild'ring her followers like z. feu-follet , 
 That cheats the traveller with deceitful fire 
 Then leaves him lost and flound'ring in the mire ! 
 
 How blest is he that " Nature's nobleman," 
 The Merchant-Prince whose infant life began 
 In humble sphere, who carv'd his way to fame 
 Unbounded fortune and world-ringing name — 
 Honor his law, integrity his guide. 
 His helpmates industry and manly pride ; 
 Now, safely harboured from the storm and flood, 
 Seeks opportunities for lasting good ; 
 Scatters his well-earn'd wealth with princely hand, 
 To enrich and beautify his native Land ; 
 From doubt and darkness, ignorance and blight, 
 To lift young Genius struggling into light, 
 To shelter science, raise the lofty dome, 
 For Wit a temple, Industry a home : — 
 4 
 
38 THE PANIC, — WALL ST. 
 
 Yet shuns the dinner and the loud hurrah, 
 Content with praise that none can take away, 
 The clear approval of his own true breast 
 Where liberal virtues build their hallowed nest — 
 My pencil fails ; its colours weak and faint, 
 But ill present the portrait I would paint ; 
 Yet, askM to label it, the merest noddy 
 Lifting his eye-brows will cry out " Peabody"! 
 
 Ah I who shall paint those days of panic fear 
 When Wall Street shook, as if its doom were near! 
 When Stocks came tumbling downw^ard with a run 
 As if all things were tired of being done ; 
 When Bears, elated, capered at " the Board," 
 And baited Bulls, like tJiose of Bashan, roared ; 
 When timid capitalists " put the screw on," 
 And trembled, as their gloves or funds they drew on ! 
 Then met our eyes " alarming sacrifices " — 
 Of old, stale goods, well sold at any prices ! 
 Our ladies, lured by ruin at the doors, 
 Crowded the counters of the cost-price stores ; 
 Unconscious lambs to " sacrifice " they went, — 
 'Twas they were sold ! and blind, on bargains bent, 
 Squandered five dollars, just to save a cent ! 
 
 So things grew worse and worse, and money tighter, 
 Men's hearts grew heavier, their purses lighter, — 
 
SUSPENSION. dy 
 
 Till as the cord was at its utmost tension, 
 
 The Gordian knot was cut by Banli- suspension : 
 
 And tho' this seem'd, at first, a strange resource, 
 
 It brought things back into their usual course, — 
 
 (Showing that money is a thing quite fanciful, 
 
 And men are rich with none as when their hands are full ;) 
 
 For all confessed, soon as the day grew bright 
 
 We had been well nigh rained by a fright ! 
 
 Who could pretend to guess the next event 
 When Bank of England's rate reached ten per cent. ? 
 (A weak attempt to stop the flood of gold 
 That ill a torrent o'er the Atlantic roll'd ! 
 Like Mrs. Partington 2° with besom frantic 
 Trying to mop and stop that same Atlantic.) 
 When Scottish Banks fell broken to the dust, — 
 Following the lead of the Ohio Trust — 
 Till the " old lady of Threadneedle Street " 21 
 'Gan feel a little gouty on her feet. 
 So thought it safest to " expand her issue " 
 Instead of gold, o^ finest paper-tissue, 
 Thus cutting off all chance of hard remittance, 
 Scared by our summary mode of debt -acquittance, 
 
 (20) Stdxet Smith's Mrs. Partington ; see letter on Parliamentary reform. 
 
 (21) A Sobriquet of the Bank of England. 
 
40 VERBUM SAP. 
 
 But now, our Banks their hoarded treasures yield, 
 Pouring Paetolus' streams o'er Trade's parch'd field, 
 And, like a London Sun on foggy day, 
 Late jand reluctant shed a doubtful ray. 
 So now we start upon the race again 
 High pressure Power and in a lightning train ; 
 Credit and Discount are our Engineers, 
 Our Brakesman, Caution, cottons up his ears, 
 The " Road to Ruin," opens to our eyes. 
 Vainly the spectral Past gives warning cries. 
 Headlong we rush, by speculation driven. 
 Up to the next Grand Sinash of seventy-seven ! 
 
 Shall it be so ? Must every twentieth year 
 Bring periodic ruin, panic fear?^^ 
 Like Spendthrift heirs in haste to be undone 
 Shall we still waste our all, ere twenty-one? 
 Have we, in vain, our recent lesson read ? 
 Which got hy heart might serve to dear our head^ 
 And Baillie Nicol Jarvie's maxim teach 
 " No further than we can draw back to reach :" 
 Why spend a quarter's income on a dress ? 
 French silks and satins got us in the mess ! 
 Let a just pride without a sigh forego 
 The costly vanities of pomp and show ; 
 
 (22) *37 was the last-prec ceding Panic year. 
 
BREAD -RIOTS. 41 
 
 Let solid worth drive humbug from the field, — 
 •' To be, not seem " the motto on our shield ; 
 Leave credit to itself: all Bank-restrictions 
 Are clogs on trade, mere economic fictions, 
 Of a past age ; best buckler and defence ^ 
 Are Caution, Probity and — Common Sense. 
 
 But hark ! what cries are these 1 what means this crowd 
 With savage aspect, and that shout so loud ! — 
 Humble petitioners for work and bread, 
 ' Backing their prayer with threats of iron and lead ! 
 Poor starving souls, — with not a crust to eat. 
 With drums and trumpets they parade the street, 
 And while their wives at home of want are dying, 
 They march with cannon, and with colors flying, 
 And clamoring for labor and for bread, 
 Will spend in drink their Jifty cents a head! 
 Go home good men ! trust not to hollow friends 
 Who'd merely use you for their private ends ; 
 Don't give your enemies a chance to say 
 Your virtue's only for a sunny day ; 
 And that, in prosp'rous times though loyal, quiet. 
 In bad, you're ripe as monarchists for riot ! 
 Send leaders and Committees to the devil : 
 They're humbugs all — and active but for evil ! 
 
 What if you really were in want of food, 
 
 *4 
 
42 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Think you they'd give you aught but stone — or WOOD !^^ 
 
 Your safety in your own brave efforts lies, 
 
 And not in 'mob law, and seditious cries : 
 
 To rise against the rich were just as wise 
 
 As he who ripp'd the goose up for the prize 
 
 Pie thought she hoarded : but he found, alas ! 
 
 He got no egg, hut proved himself an ass ! 
 
 Let Socialists Xheir panaceas puff; 
 
 Tell them the Country's rich and wide enough 
 
 To give to all fair guerdon for their toil, 
 
 If they will ask it from her bounteous soil : 
 
 Leave the full cities, seek the smiling West, 
 
 Explore the treasures of her fruitful breast, — 
 
 Honor and Industry, like angel-guides 
 
 Will find you homes and friends and glad fiiresides , 
 
 And, looking back on these hard times, you'll say 
 
 " Temptation tiied us but we won the day !" ^^ 
 
 Laid down in CoMxMon Sense's Code you 'II find 
 The crowning gift 's an Independent Mind. 
 In vain we read each year the " Declaration," 
 In vain we thrill at the July oration. 
 Unless we dare to prove our souls are free, 
 
 (23) These " Work or Bread," Riots took place in New York immediately pre- 
 ceeding the city election which put Mr. Tieman into the city chair, in place of 
 iJr. Wood the preceeding Mayor : the riots were supposed to be promoted for party 
 purposes. 
 
 (24) These lines were delivered for the first time in New York when the " Bread 
 Jliots " were at their height. 
 
TRIBUTE TO KANE. 43 
 
 Nor bound by Custom's stunting tyranny : 
 
 Fashion and folly baser fetters forge, 
 
 Than e'er were dreamt of by old, foolish George ! 
 
 'Tis well to follow usage of the day, 
 But not to fritter all one's self away^ 
 And, melting down, into one common mould, 
 Assume it's shape, all formal, false and cold, 
 With not a feature left to call one's own, 
 By which God's mark upon the soul is known. 
 
 All may be brave and true, in store or mart. 
 Not all are called to play a brilliant part ; 
 To plead like Choate, to don the sock or buskin, 
 To paint like Turner, or to write like Ruskin, 
 To lose a race on Prioress or Prior, 
 Or win a fight like Sullivan or Hyer; 
 Or, rarer still, to act heroic deed, — 
 With Nelson conquer or with Warren bleed, — 
 To wear out shrinking life 'mid Arctic snows, 
 Where the long night no gleam of sunshine knows ; 
 In Nature's icy solitudes, to cope 
 With danger,— patient, hoping 'gainst all hope,— 
 To dare for Science, and for Science' son, 
 Far greater deeds than sword and war have done !— - 
 that such lofty courage should be vain ! 
 A Nation's tears are all that's left for Kane ! 
 
44 THE " SWELL.'' 
 
 And yet not so ! the hero never dies. 
 He shines the Polar Star of Enterprise ; — 
 Lights in our breasts the fire that kilVd his own, 
 And tunes our manhood to a -kindred tone ! 
 For Manliness is virtue without rule, 
 Untamed philosophy of Nature's school ! 
 
 All Affectation is a fulsome thing 
 In Peer or Peasant, citizen or King : 
 Rules of good taste and Common Sense obey, 
 Nor care a doit what silly folks may say ! 
 The fop that's puppy-Jied by fashion's laws, 
 Wears boots too tight, and, having hands like paws, 
 Will thrust them into gloves a size to small, 
 (Better, by far, to wear no gloves at all !) 
 Outside of which, his wrist's large bunches spread, 
 " Cabin'd confined, bound in, " all swoll'n and red, 
 Tightens his waistband till you'd swear he laces. 
 Affects strange airs of Ton, and calls them graces, 
 Wears a neck collar, starch'd, to make you fear 
 Its razor-edge will cut off half his ear. 
 Sheds o'er his head and dress a vile perfume 
 That taints the air, and poisons half the room, 
 Lounges, cigar in mouth, up bright Broadway, 
 Or, at the fashionable hour of day, 
 *' Xo«/5," at the door of the St. Nicholas, 
 To chaff and out-face ladies as they pass, — 
 
DRESS — MANNERS 45 
 
 Not with the *' Gorgon, stony, British stare, " ^ 
 
 But with the flippant, /as^-New-Yorker air, 
 
 That's quite as vulgar and as hard to bear ! 
 
 Who without music's grammar, taste, or ear, 
 
 Would fain to all an amateur appear, 
 
 Nightly disports himself at opera, 
 
 In ecstacies ! (not knowing sol from fa,) 
 
 Cries bravo when he should exclaim brava, — 
 
 Who curs'd with hedge-hog hair, and visage horse-y,'^^ 
 
 Believes he shines a Cis-Atlaniic D^Orsay, — 
 
 By dint of folly has found out a plan 
 
 To make a monkey of what God made Man ! 
 
 " Fine feathers make fine birds " 'tis said, and so, 
 
 Some push the proverb further than 'twill go ; 
 As if fine clothes upon a vulgar back 
 Could give a polish which the manners lack. 
 Nor finest linen, nor the glossiest hat, 
 Glaz'd boots, white kids and trim cravat. 
 Nor faultless coat, neat vest and pantaloon. 
 Can clothe with dignity a low buffoon. 
 It will not make a race-horse of a hack 
 To put Blink Bonny'^s saddle on his back ! 
 
 (25) " Gorgonised me from head to foot 
 With a stony British stare — " 
 
 Maude. 
 
 (26) " As ugly as a horse. " 
 
 Old Satixq 
 
46 POLITENESS. 
 
 His head, chest, limbs, ears, action slow 
 His want of breeding to the eyes that know 
 The tailor's art can't build a gentleman, — 
 Good-nature, manners, education can. 
 
 Politeness is good-nature under rule, 
 The heart our text-book, Common Sense our school 
 The supple spine, the ever-ready bow, 
 The smile prepared alike for friend and foe, 
 The quick assent, obsequious flattery 
 Implied by move of head, hand, ear and eye, 
 The tongue that takes up every speaker's tone, 
 Nor dares to wag with motion of it's own, — 
 These signs are but the crust of courtesy , 
 A solemn farce, a mere hypocrisy : — 
 Puff paste is nought, the fruit within's the pie ! 
 Politeness in good feeling owns its spring, 
 Nor spurns a beggar, nor insults a king ; 
 To all with just distinction can behave ; — 
 George Washington uncover'' d to a slave ! 
 The manly breast, not subtly o'er-refined, 
 Instinctively is gentle, just and kind ; 
 Ne'er wounds a friend, ne'er answers love with hate : 
 {Slighted affection leaves its cause to fate ! — ) 
 Not floods of tears by sorrowing friendship shed, 
 
THE GENTLEMAN. 47 
 
 Can ope the grave and animate the dead ; 
 Nor all the tributes weeping Senates pay 
 Revive a Webster or restore a Clay ! 
 
 True Independence faitful to itself, 
 Unawed by power and unseduced by pelf, 
 Scorning to cringe to pedant or to fool 
 Or bow the knee at fashion's fickle rule. 
 While just to others' rights, firm in its own 
 'Gainst vulgar clamor or a tyrant throne, 
 Fulfils all duty, and disdains to sue 
 In mock humility for merit's due, 
 Anxious to please, yet scornful of the art 
 That stoops, for int'rest, to a borrowed part. 
 In form and mind erect — a double grace ! 
 Frank yet not rough, open in heart and face. 
 In dress, in air, from affectation free, 
 Charming by force of pure simplicity, 
 To age respectful, genial unto youth, 
 Despising falsehood, constant to the truth, 
 In conscience sensitive, alive to shame, 
 Unwearied in the race of virtuous fame, 
 Devoid of fear, not arrogantly bold, 
 And prizing honor more more than heaps of gold. 
 To woe an anchor, but to crime a rod, 
 
48 HAPPINESS. 
 
 Loyal to law, to Country and to God, 
 To woman faithful, upright unto man, — 
 These mark the hero, stamp the Gentleman. 
 
 Such are the maxims Common Sense would teach ; 
 And, spite of Horace, Murray, Pope or Creech, 
 Snch are, my friends, the only arts /know 
 To make man happy, and to keep him so. 
 
 THE EIN^D 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ART or ELOCUTION 
 
 (STEREOTYPED LONDON EDITION.) 
 
 WITH INSTRUCTIONS IN GESTURE 
 
 AND 
 ORATORICAL, POETICAL AND 
 
 MAT BE HAD OF 
 
 TICKNOR & IF^IELIDS: BOSTON. 
 
 CROWEN : BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 
 
 LUCAS : BALTIMORE.