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THE AGE OF TINSEL. 
 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL : 
 
 A SATIRE. 
 
 d^'fi-U-^jL^ 
 
 
 " An incongruous mixture up of thought. " 
 
 w You know,- or don't know, that great Bacon saith — 
 
 'Fling up a straw, 'twill show the way the wind blows ;* 
 And such a straw, borne on by human breath, 
 
 Is poesy, according as the mind glows ; 
 A paper kite which flies 'twixt life and death, 
 
 A shadow which the onward soul behind throws. 
 And mine's a bubble not blown up for praise, 
 But just to play with, as an infant plays." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 NEW-YOEK; 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR 
 
 SAMUEL COL MAN. 
 1843. 
 
t 3 ft ^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, by John Douglas, in the office 
 of the Clerk of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 • ( 
 
 John Douglas, Printer, 71 Gold St. 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh ! for the genius of a lawless Byron, 
 To revel wildly in disjointed verse — 
 
 To do full justice to the scene I look on 
 
 Now with my mind's eye : to describe it terse,,- 
 
 To paint its colours in their mingling— t' form 
 It in one bold picture of description ; fierce 
 
 And mild in style, just as the subject borne 
 
 On fancy's wings would grave or gaily turn. 
 
 A 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 n. 
 
 The theme of satire is not yet exhausted — 
 Never will be, so long as men, and women, 
 
 Too, in their respective fields, their boasted 
 
 Charms and vaunted powers display ; and when 
 
 One poet by folly's reign is hoisted 
 
 Into satire's throne, and resigns, — again, 
 
 Another in due time assumes the seat, 
 
 And to his subjects their due deserts mete. 
 
 III. 
 
 But some may say that I am an usurper, 
 And have to what I claim no valid right ; 
 
 That I am to this throne but a pretender — 
 Can show no title which will please the sight 
 
 Of subjects, who are readers ; and to fight 
 My way would be but to surrender 
 
 All my claims to their esteem. I '11 therefore see 
 
 What I can do by acting modestly. 
 
A SATIRE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Were I a poet born for this high chair, 
 Wherefore my title would be genius, wit, 
 
 A knowledge deep of men, of books as rare, 
 Which would me for its vacancy befit, 
 
 I fear I'd be a tyrant, or my laws would bear 
 No bending— which would lead some to forget 
 
 My mercy in my justice ; and to others I 
 
 Would yield the praise which envy passes by. 
 
 I'd have no courtiers — therefore no minions 
 Around my throne to seek unworthy rank ; 
 
 No breath of mine should make them easy pinions 
 To fly into the public sky, and prank 
 
 In all the littleness of great pretensions. 
 Nor would I keep my honest power blank, 
 
 To be fill'd up by fawning middling scribes, 
 
 Who purchase fulsome praise for nameless bribes. 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Although king of letters, my laws should be 
 
 Republican ; a fixed equality 
 Of these should rule the learned realm ; and he 
 
 Who would expect to find immunity 
 From them, would in himself example see 
 
 The concord of impartiality, 
 Which would bestow, in one harmonious strain, 
 The praise or censure which deserved the same. 
 
 vn. 
 
 But I find me wandering from the theme 
 I first set out with — my object is to pen 
 
 A light description of a varied scene 
 Of women fair and literary men ; 
 
 All mingling in one splendid show. I mean 
 To be their faithful showman ; and when 
 
 They place themselves before us in this light, 
 
 We '11 both their virtues and their vices cite. 
 
A SATIRE. 
 
 VHL 
 
 I see before my mind a group assembling, 
 The rich in beauty and the great in name ! 
 
 Some their homage paying — others making 
 Their obeisance to respect ; the ardent strain 
 
 Of music's voice chimes in, sweetly blending 
 Its notes with milder ones ; a living vein 
 
 Of deep hid joy is midst the circle breaking, 
 
 And through its stream of life in beauty gushing, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Poets of every grade are mingled here — 
 
 Of orators the mixture is as great ; 
 Novelists, whose claims are middling fair, 
 
 And authors who have met an early fate 
 In their career of brilliancy ; others rare 
 
 In their inventive genius, and some who sate 
 In judgment upon these, are also here, 
 With other men whose deeds ne'er reach'd my ear. 
 a2 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL ! 
 
 X. 
 
 But first of all, who is he in the corner, 
 Who looks so placid and serene of eye ? 
 
 Who hath an air of melancholy stupor, 
 
 And seems to gaze on nought but vacancy ? 
 
 It is, in truth, no one but Mr. Dreamer, 
 As usual, absorbed in revery. 
 
 But " many are poets (sure) who never pen/ 5 
 
 And I've no doubt but he is one of them. 
 
 XL 
 
 And there is Mr. Ballad, who has some 
 
 Reputation for his tame effusions, 
 Alternately in prose and verse, upon 
 
 Love and beauty, and the " starry heavens j" 
 All which he writes to kill. He hath won 
 
 Many smiles from flattered lips ; his writings, 
 When I last perused — or rather saw them, had 
 The modest title of G. Philelphus Ballad. 
 
A. SATIRE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But let us, " gentle reader/' mark the coming 
 Up of Mr. Albert Foreign, who has been 
 
 Recently abroad. He is advancing 
 
 Towards a group of attaches ; and doth seem 
 
 To be bound up in ecstasies at having 
 An opportunity to thinly screen 
 
 His vulgar tongue beneath their foreign cloak 
 
 Of native language which he badly spoke. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Nevertheless, he always doth avail 
 Himself of such occasions to relate 
 
 Whatever he has to, in't ; and if he fail 
 To speak it right — if the unhappy fate 
 
 Of the poor language be compelled to snail 
 Itself along the bungled tongue, its gait 
 
 (As in his case) stopped by an intruding word 
 
 Of English sound— is not th' effect absurd % 
 
THE AGE OF TINSEL : 
 
 XIV. 
 
 As in the case of Mr. Such-a-one — 
 
 (A name somewhat more common than the 
 Browns,) 
 When he attempts to ask in French a question, 
 
 He mixes up French verbs with English nouns, 
 And in hunting for the meaning, often 
 
 The Frenchman is perplexed to find its bounds ; 
 Which as often makes him to reply Je vous 
 Comprends, Monsieur, to what he never knew. 
 
 XV. 
 
 To kill a living language is a sin, 
 To mangle up a dead one is as bad ; 
 
 But some delight to show their prowess in 
 This kind of slaughter. If I my way had 
 
 With these self-same hackers, who deem they win 
 A learned reputation by their sad 
 
 Treatment to such an unprotected thing, 
 
 I 'd make their punishment the worst of strangling. 
 
A SATIRE. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But wherefore do I wander from ray theme, 
 
 Into a dissertation of this kind ? 
 I doubtless very impolite have been 
 
 In leaving Mr. Foreign thus behind : 
 But I have just set out, as Sterne said, in 
 
 My travelling ; and I hope to find 
 Much better manners ere I leave this strain — 
 So, therefore, Mr. Foreign, come again. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 I left him to a foreign group advancing, 
 
 With whom he doubtless was much entertained, 
 
 And round the brilliant circle was surveying 
 What it congenial to his taste contained. 
 
 And then anon familiarly was calling 
 
 O'er lords and ladies, all which he named 
 
 As flippantly as if he never had been 
 
 Within the presence of a vulgar plebeian. 
 
10 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 His conversation is all diplomatique, 
 
 Whene'er he deigns to talk at all of home ; 
 
 And then it is exceedingly erratic, 
 
 And ne'er confined to what the subject's on 
 
 Of home affairs — he 's a better critique 
 
 In all foreign things and nations, and shone 
 
 Tenfold more brilliantly in a conversation 
 
 Whene'er the subject was a foreign nation. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Of literature, he knows a little — 
 
 That is, of foreign ; and whate'er of native 
 He deems insipid, and to entitle 
 
 It a moment's rank above creative 
 Things of half-way excellence, is to settle 
 
 A thing that is entirely decisive 
 With English potentates in literature, 
 Who rule the realm of letters as of war. 
 
A SATIRE. U 
 
 XX. 
 
 Our country, it is true, is young as yet 
 In Arts and Science, and in Poetry ; 
 
 We have not grown to such a sudden height 
 Of literary splendour, as to vie 
 
 With other nations, who are shedding light 
 That hath been burning in full brilliancy 
 
 For centuries, and yet remains to shine 
 
 To blaze their glory throughout endless time. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Our brief history does not yet present 
 
 A list of countless names of genius splendid. 
 
 Some there are, 'tis true, whose pens have lent 
 Their country honor, which hath well repaid 
 
 Them in some few instances : as when it sent 
 To Spain's dominion, one of noble grade 
 
 In literature, who's foremost in our mind's advance 
 
 In graceful diction, beauty, and romance. 
 
12 THE AGE OF TINSEL : 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But there has suddenly a splendor gone* 
 
 From out our mind's circle : our constellation 
 
 Of few stars have been bereft of one 
 
 Whose brilliancy was not confined to nation 
 
 In its light. It pierced all earth — it shone 
 In all the light of mind ; the first station 
 
 In reason's world was it's ; and though fled its day, 
 
 The light it shed will never pass away. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Through error's labyrinth its rays will lead 
 The road to truth : or a beacon on the shore 
 
 Of the mind's dark sea, to for ever shed 
 A deep flood of light upon it — to pour 
 
 It in one sure channel, that those who tread 
 Its doubtful surface may be safely o'er 
 
 Its billows borne. His spirit, gone to heaven, 
 
 Hath to the world its pure example given. 
 
 * Dr. Charming. 
 
A SATIRE. 13 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 In bold description of wild Indian life, 
 And the forest and the mountain, and the 
 
 Warriors of these red men— their bloody strife 
 Of war and love— and of the glorious sea, 
 
 One excels, who late hath made a knife 
 
 One would think to cut up by the roots his tree 
 
 Of fame, at which he has been deeply cutting 
 
 With fearless fury without once abating. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 I wonder some men will so far forget 
 
 The duty which they owe themselves and the 
 
 Public — those who have attained deserved respect 
 For talents rare or virtues — as to be 
 
 Eternally at war with those who '11 not permit 
 Them to enjoy their honours quietly : 
 
 For envy will be envy — why, then, let 
 
 Our minds become by its vile ends upset. 
 
 B 
 
14 THE AGE OF TINSEL: 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Let it wax faint with rage : to battle it 
 
 Is but to add a fearful implement 
 To its destructive means. Let it spit 
 
 Its venom, till its dying breath hath sent 
 Its last faint effort ; thus when its jealous fit 
 
 Hath gone off of itself, — when it hath spent 
 Its violence in useless fury, doubtless 
 Our virtues will be deemed entirely stormless. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 There are some rogues of character, who steal 
 The honor of existence, like rogues of lesser crime, 
 
 Without knowing its true value. They feel 
 
 Its want, although they never knew it. The time 
 
 They spent in villainy, hath been a peal 
 
 Of trumpet-tongue damnation ; and its chime 
 
 With others' praise, is to their jealous ears 
 
 A source of pain which costs them endless tears. 
 
A SATIRE. 15 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 These are the smaller pilferers of society's 
 Best treasure : there are some tenfold larger, 
 
 And like all great rogues, among varieties 
 They stand the first in point of character 
 
 To the lesser. They steal to make disparities 
 In others' wealth of honesty and virtue : 
 
 So with what of these they take in secret stealth 
 
 From others' store, may add to their own wealth. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But enough of this : let 's have a specimen 
 Of poets — I give but specimens in this 
 
 My computation of those who pen ; 
 And if in hurry or in haste I miss 
 
 To give a passing glance at some great man, 
 Who stand full high in literary bliss, 
 
 It is not from a wish to do injustice — 
 
 The lines I wrote above will clearly prove this. 
 
16 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Nor is the order in which I place my 
 
 Opinion of others, a criterion 
 Of their respective merits, even by 
 
 My own mind's standard, by which I form 
 A verdict of their cases in this my 
 
 Literary court. I take them from 
 My memory's docket, just as I them find — 
 The first is tried whose case is first in mind. 
 
 XXXL 
 
 Chaste diction and pure thought hath found in one 
 Among us, if not more, a worshipper, 
 
 With enough of fancy and imagination 
 To breathe a soul-enchanting pray'r 
 
 To Apollo's altar. A creation 
 
 Of brighter gems ne'er sparkled, nor the ear 
 
 Ne'er heard sweeter music than is warbled in 
 
 The bright flowing numbers of The Fountain. 
 
A SATIRE. 17 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But this is not his fame, for Liberty- 
 Finds a new lineage of her birthright 
 
 In his pure symbol of her sanctity, 
 And Thanatopsis pictures many bright 
 
 And glowing images. But I will not cite 
 More of his beauties ; and the rarity 
 
 Of his little faults are not worth citing, 
 
 I '11 therefore leave them, to his taste submitting. 
 
 XXXHI. 
 
 Some one has said, though I think with error, 
 That Campbell's ode on Hohenlinden 
 
 Almost repaid for the bloody slaughter 
 Of that glorious fight ; but surely pen, 
 
 As intimated, ne'er wrote a sentence faultier. 
 
 But it may be said with truth, the ode that's written 
 
 Upon Bozzaris' death (w T ith all his martial fame), 
 
 Will add as much to his undying name. 
 b2 
 
18 THE AGE OF TINSEL : 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And many other things, of equal merit, 
 Have issued from the same familiar pen : 
 
 It hath infused its light and gentle spirit 
 
 In Fanny's Poem — " what's in a name" — when 
 
 A thing breathing wit and beauty in it, 
 Bears such an unpretending title, blen- 
 
 Ding all these sweetly. But I have known some 
 
 Other Fannys (out of books) as handsome. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Who sails along my mind now ? The Buccaneer. 
 
 He ploughs the sea of verse in curbless style ; 
 He flings the spray about him without the fear 
 
 Of losing his sure rudder ; awhile 
 Lofty waves in passion's sea, in grandeur 
 
 Rise above him, and anon a smile 
 Of light gleams o'er his prow, intermingling 
 Its milder hues with fiercer strokes of lightning. 
 
A. SATIRE. 19 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 A bold and vivid picture of dark life 
 
 Is here pourtrayed — the heart it's canvas j 
 
 Painting the pangs of conscience in its strife 
 With dismal thoughts of blood, that trespass 
 
 Themselves upon the wicked mind, that cut 's a knife 
 Heated in molten fire, whose edges pass 
 
 In fiery torture o'er the guilty heart, 
 
 Cutting its hardened strings in flames apart. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Notes of wild music flow in melody 
 
 From the Voices of the Night. But I must cease 
 This elaboration : it is a duty 
 
 I find too irksome to my mind, whose peace 
 May be somewhat disturbed by lengthy 
 
 Criticisms. I will therefore release 
 It from its burthen, and speak at random 
 Of other authors which my eye may light on- 
 
20 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 I cannot linger long at Arnold's grave, 
 
 Where oft I've shed some tears, nor stop to sport 
 With merry children at their play — I gave 
 
 Some hours to these before ; and the short 
 Time I have to ramble o'er this field, will leave 
 
 Me not a moment to glance at the forte 
 Of many other sterling things of his — 
 I mean, of course, the things of N. P. W****s. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Nor can I wander in the sonnet Park, 
 
 Where oft I've wiled away an hour of pleasure ; 
 That is the fullest flower in that walk, 
 
 Though there are others equally of treasure. 
 I might some of them in this ramble mark, 
 
 But, as I said before, I have not leisure ; 
 I '11 therefore cull but one, and that will be 
 " Enough that thou art cold, and I am free." 
 
A SATIRE. 21 
 
 XL. 
 
 Nor can I bend me but a moment o'er 
 
 The grave of her whose death the son laments : 
 
 I 've shed with him, in filial love, a tear, 
 For which, alas I nor sigh nor tear prevents. 
 
 A monument of nobler kind was ne'er 
 Erected o'er a loved one, which cements 
 
 Stronger in death the living love. Would that my 
 
 Unliving notes could breathe such melody.* 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Nor shall the notes that issue from the lyre 
 Of sweet Amelia lure me from my task. 
 
 I cannot offer to the kindling fire 
 
 Of her bright genius but one spark of praise. To bask 
 
 In Sigourney's splendor I would aspire. 
 But such a priceless boon I cannot ask. 
 
 The Hemans of the country some do deem her,. 
 
 But — I have no decision in the matter. 
 
 * G. D. Prentice.. 
 
22 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 XLIL 
 
 Nor shall the notes of Morris — I '11 not stay 
 My pen to listen to his swelling lyre ; 
 
 I have a love for it, as well I may, 
 
 Revere the tones which melt the heart to fire. 
 
 I might be urged by some, 'tis true, to lay 
 It aside, as unworthy to admire ; 
 
 But what I write is but my own opinion, 
 
 Entirely free from other folks' dominion. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Who would extend the empire of their thought 
 To every other mind — who would not, if they 
 could, 
 
 Allow another man's to be considered aught 
 Until their own tyrannic compact should 
 
 Be observed — who would enslave, in short, 
 All freedom of opinion, and who would 
 
 Wield their sceptre with despotic sway, 
 
 O'er all who dared their mandates disobey. 
 
A SATIRE. 23 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Nor can I wander with Ahasuerus 
 
 Throughout his last perambulation ; 
 Although I have no doubt his journey is 
 
 As pleasant in this democratic nation, 
 As any he has traversed o'er. Exception 
 
 Certainly cannot be taken to his 
 Present princely leader, who has given us 
 An evidence of high poetic genius. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Nor can I wander forth with Howard Pinckney, 
 Nor Clinton Bradshaw, in their adventures. 
 
 I doubtless would derive from both a plenty 
 
 Of light amusement, and would find some censures 
 
 Upon some things ; the author has variety 
 In his pages, and but rarely ventures 
 
 Aught but what he does with great precision — 
 
 He hath, I ween, for character a vision. 
 
24 THE AGE OF TINSEL 
 
 XLVL 
 
 But ere I leave this theme, let me recall* 
 To sadden'd recollection one whose name 
 
 Should be deep cherish'd in the breast of all 
 Who feel the warmth of the all-hallowed flame 
 
 Of genius glowing in them — the pall 
 
 Of death too soon o'ercast him : his early fame 
 
 As breathed in notes of mournful song, will be 
 
 Remembered for their touching melody. 
 
 XLVIL 
 
 Too soon he followed her w T hose early doom 
 Shed o'er his after days a funeral pall ! 
 
 The only sound of joy that reach'd the tomb 
 Of his sad feelings, where was buried all 
 
 His happiness on earth — which dispelled its gloom, 
 Broke from the swellings of his lyre, that fall 
 
 In mingled harmony upon the ear, 
 
 Like sounds of sadden'd music from afar. 
 
 * The lamented Willis Gaylord Clark. 
 
A SATIRE. 25 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Let 's for* a moment glance at Fashion's queen, 
 Who now in triumph trails before my sight ; 
 
 We 've had enough of literature, I ween, 
 As much, at least, as I 'm disposed to write. 
 
 You doubtless oft her retinue have seen 
 
 Of handmaids, ministers, courtiers, and the like, 
 
 All which doth bend in homage to her throne — 
 
 The greatest despot which the world hath known. 
 
26 THE AGE OF TINSEL I 
 
 L. 
 
 Every city has its queen of fashion- — 
 I '11 not say king, because that title is 
 
 Not so expressive of its dominion ; 
 Besides, a woman very often is 
 
 Selected for the very personation 
 Of tyranny ; and when her nature is 
 
 Converted from its mild and placid state, 
 
 'Tis said man's passions are not half so great. 
 
 LI. 
 
 She has her handmaids, as I said before — 
 She has, also, her ministers of state ; 
 
 She has her courtiers, and she has her more 
 Than fawning sycophants; the galling weight 
 
 Of social chains she throws in terror o'er 
 
 Her slaves, are heavier than a serf's — his are light 
 
 In his unconsciousness of aught but thraldom, 
 
 But they wear chains, and yet aspire to freedom. 
 
A SATIRE. 27 
 
 LII. 
 
 She has her ministers, who enact her laws, 
 Of silly customs and fantastic tricks, 
 
 Who well assert these trappings of her cause 
 In their own persons. Her courtier sticks 
 
 The most devoutly to them — but let me pause, 
 Else I may with some wrath my feelings mix 
 
 In this description. I will rest me, then, 
 
 Ere I release this vermin from my pen. 
 
 LIIL 
 
 He's generally nought professional, 
 (Or if he is, 'tis only as profess'd ;) 
 
 His calling is a little questionable, 
 
 Or stands but very narrowly confess'd. 
 
 He is a stickler for all that's fashionable 
 
 In manners, customs, and conceives him blessed 
 
 If once he can, by dint of hard exertion, 
 
 Beplace him by the side of wealth or station. 
 
28 THE AGE OF TINSEL: 
 
 LIV. 
 
 His conversation is confined entirely 
 
 To men and women who are of the ton : 
 
 He never deigns to speak but very slightly 
 To any but of that familiar throng ; 
 
 And when he walks the street or ball-room nimbly. 
 You '11 surely find him arm in arm along 
 
 With some one who will meet this last description. 
 
 — This is the tree this butterfly doth light on. 
 
 LV. 
 
 I do not like to speak of fashion's train — 
 
 I mean her train of handmaids — my gallant pen 
 
 Would be, I fear, subjected to some pain, 
 Were I to speak as unreserved of them 
 
 As I have of their partners. Besides, the pain 
 I meant to give some of her mawkish men, 
 
 Would, if transferred to their more gentle sex, 
 
 (I'll not say weaker,) a bad feeling vex. 
 
A SATIRE. 29 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Therefore, adieu to them — and adieu to 
 
 All of " fashion's fools" — but ere I leave this scene 
 
 Let me attempt to mark the forte of who 
 I now behold approaching me — I mean 
 
 An orator — one somewhat famous, too ; 
 
 Whose fame, at least, is balancing between 
 
 That doubtful point, when some are loudly praising, 
 
 And when some others are as loud denouncing. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 That same time when there is some small proof 
 
 Of merit in us — else why this bustle 
 About our character, and all, forsooth ? 
 
 It is, indeed, a strange and foolish tussle 
 That 's carried on about us, when, in truth, 
 
 We are not worth it ! Why,' then, this jostle 
 Between our friends and foes % why this fuss ? 
 It must, indeed, be caused by something in us. 
 
30 THE AGE OF TINSEL ! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 I 've heard him speak upon some light occasion, 
 When debate had nigh assumed a dull 
 
 And languid air ; and then I've heard him in oration 
 When there did stillness reign throughout the full, 
 
 Deep auditory, which his mild persuasion 
 
 Asserted o'er it. And then I Ve known him lull 
 
 The fiercest sea of passion into rest, 
 
 Such was the power his eloquence possess'd. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 'T was the voice of reason, thro' impressive 
 Words — no extravagance of rhetoric dress 
 
 Deform'd its natural beauty, in expletive 
 Tropes and figures carried to excess. 
 
 Nor was it dull and unimaginative, 
 
 But of that kind when thoughts that burn doth 
 press 
 
 Themselves upon the mind, and there remain 
 
 Until the kindling lips receive the flame. 
 
A SATIRE. 31 
 
 LX. 
 
 Here must end my theme — or so much of it 
 As F m disposed to write about to-night ; 
 
 But e'er I take a final leave of if, 
 
 Let me premise a word or so at sight : 
 
 The age of Gold has gone — Bronze followed it, 
 Which was a shade below the other's light ; 
 
 This may be called the age of Brass, or Tinsel, 
 
 Either of which will suit its nature well. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
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