my childhood's pedagogue-he that the likeness of a flowing wig hath on. "Very improper in a young man to advocate a profession which has been resolved by our wise and learned fathers a public nuisance." His forefinger is warningly raised, his head Nay, never shake thy woollen locks at me. Unreal mockeries, hence!-Why so; being gone, Restoring, therefore, our lamp and inkstand to the equilibria from which they have been thrown during the agitation excited in us by this obstinate prosopopoeia of imagination, and picking our dropped pen from the sheet which it has sadly blotted in its fall, we will proceed as fast as may be ; but not certainly without attempting some reply to complaints thus impressively urged upon us; especially as they are not unlikely, perhaps, to find an echo in the living, unimaginary bosom of some discreet and respected reader. If then the objection be, that what we have advanced is false, it will be known or can be shown to be so; and the editors of this publication will not refuse their pages to a refutation, if creditably written, of any thing advanced in them. But if, the justness of our views being undenied, they are assailed as audacious, of pernicious tendency, controverting the rooted sentiments of the ancient and pious, we would have the assailant to know at once that his day is gone by. Truth is no longer unwelcome on any subject, or from any source. If venerable censors wish to impress the public with what we deem their prejudices against the acted drama, and if anxious mothers wish to prevent their sons from running on the stage, we assure them, they cannot effect their object by trying to hide what is noble or useful in the tragedian's profession. It cannot, should not be hidden. Let them show, if they can, that the evil predominates over the good, or that the evil is anywise necessary. But let them not forget that prejudice can never be either of individual or of public service, and that that most certainly is prejudice which startles at free inquiry. It is sad enough to see an old man, encumbered with a crew of cherished whims and bigotries, and shrinking from the path of inquiry, lest some one of them be wounded by each new inlet of light; but is it not far sadder to see a young mind thus miserably hoodwinked and beset? Who is to show a fearless confidence in the truth, if not the young student? And where is he to show it, if not in a publication like the present, which rests on his own responsibility, and is exclusively his own work? If our friends wish us to write at all, do they not wish us to write and think for ourselves? In the recitation-room, we will say what the text-book says; at public exhibitions we will endeavor to make our performances accord with the tastes and the opinions of those who assign us our parts and present us to the public; but in the anniversaries of our own clubs, and in the pages of our own magazine, we may certainly be permitted" to act out honestly our whole characters," and to show ourselves, what we are every week pronounced in the pulpit, free agents. We are sent here to become thinkers, and not, we would humbly suggest, either parrots, to repeat on all occasions the words of our teachers, or owls, to shrink from the light. Presuming, therefore, to disregard the murmurs of offended prejudice, and all mere ejaculatory upbraidings, we would say a word on the single objection into which all that can be urged against us, bearing the semblance of reason, must finally resolve itself-narely, the miserable moral characters which many tragedians have borne, and the disgrace which they have thus brought upon their profession. That such has too often been the case will not be denied ; but that it has been universal or general, will by no means be allowed, while we can repeat the names of Garrick, Talma, Kemble, Booth, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Duff; while we recollect, too, the honorable stand which the tragedians took in ancient Greece-entrusted with the most important embassies, swaying from the bema the popular assembly, and absolutely required, before they were permitted to enter the profession, to be free from all stains of character which could unfit them for filling the highest offices of state, or discharging the holiest functions of religion. With such facts before us, have the comparatively few instances of a contrary tendency a right to be deemed indicative of anything essential to the actor's life? Are they in reality more numerous or more flagrant than the What abuses to which other noble occupations are liable. more severely and graspingly intellectual, than the efforts of the great advocate; yet what more despicable, and more common, too, than the paltry mischief of the strife-stirring pettifogger? The highest post in our nation-the most glorious prize which the world presents to political talent and virtue-has it not even now become dedicated to the brokerage of petty offices, and the promulgation of bad grammar? Indeed there hardly seems need of labored proof to show the wisdom of estimating a station or an employment from a consideration of itself, not from the vices or absurdities with which it may have been disgraced by persons in any respect unfit for it. And as to the peculiar temptations of the stage, we look upon them simply as conferring additional honor on those who have been able to resist and surmount them. The great female performer has the yet further honor of soaring above that narrow sphere of exertion and influence to which certain antiquated notions of propriety, now passing, we believe, with many comrades to oblivion, have hitherto too much restricted her sex. Ay, a woman, who, like the accomplished actress now upon the Boston stage, to whom we have already referred, is at once the educator and the maintainer of her family, and extending the influences of a brilliant, delicate, and cultivated mind beyond the exemplary fulfilment of every private relation, makes them the sources of a rational and refining enjoyment to thousands-shines forth amid her sex, "Ut inter ignes Luna minores.” We know very little of the road to earthly honor, or the road to heaven, if such a woman deserve not well and highly, both of her fellowbeings and of her God. Will the grayest bigot pretend to compare with her, one of those notable housewifes, of a century since, who restricted their industry, with such amiable feminine retiringness, to making puddings and knitting socks, and evinced the lofty religion of their souls, by accompanying every allusion to the future with an upturned eye, and an "If 1 live till then"? Out upon them! They were of a lower race. O. VACATION STROLLINGS OF GEOFFREY LA-TOUCHE. No. III. Return to New York.-New York.-Arrival at Boston. My afternoon's sail was any thing but pleasant. The decks of the boat were literally thronged with people of every description from the four quarters of the globe. Neither was the appearance of the cabin very inviting. One glance was sufficient to discover that all the chairs and settees were occupied by men who had evidently paid their compliments to the trencher and bottle far too assiduously. Besides, the atmosphere was misty, and my view necessarily very limited. Nor was I in a humor to amuse myself with scrutinizing my fellow-passengers; if I had been, the time might have passed less wearily. As it was, I was obliged to have recourse to my last and universal expedient for repelling dulness, a reading of the newspapers; and with these, I contrived to while away the tardy hours until my arrival at New York. My second stay at this place was protracted considerably longer than was my original intention; and yet I know not why, for I am by no means partial to a city life, under the most favorable circumstances, and during my sojourn, there was comparatively little to interest the stranger. Many of the inhabitants had departed on their annual excursions of pleasure, so that there was but little display of beauty or fashion. Business was dull, and consequently the bustle and excitement attendant upon that were in a great degree hushed. Travellers were constantly coming, but only to go again in a day or two. Thus what are generally considered the chief sources of enjoyment in a city, were cut off. Still I lingered on, without any particular object, save to loiter up and down the streets, walk through the public buildings, and pry into every thing new and curious. What displeased me most, was to see the bad taste and bad policy displayed in the frequent use of marble for many of the public and private buildings. It is ill suited to the climate, and soon becomes very much soiled by exposure to the weather. The front of the City Hall is dingy, and the cornices and carv ings greatly defaced by the dust which has collected, and been cemented by rain. I cannot say, either, that I like the prevalent architecture. It is Corinthian, occasionally elegant, but oftener tawdry. There is nothing in the exterior of the whole range of the public edifices, that can compare with the portico of the Tremont House. I must needs ask forgiveness for expressing this partiality, since I do it wilfully; knowing that comparisons are generally 'odorous,' particularly Yankeeish, and decidedly condemned by CAPTAIN BASIL HALL. August 23. Left New York for New Haven. Passage dull enough, on board a boat that labored through the water at the rate of from six to eight miles an hour. Of passengers, too, a most motley collection. Nothing happened worth mentioning, till about an hour before our arrival. At that time I was seated in a corner of the cabin, with a old number of the North American before me. A man of about forty years of age had been eyeing me very sharply for some moments. One would have thought, from his manner, that he had lost his pocket-book, or some other valuable, and suspected me to be the thief. Not liking his scrutiny much, I made bold to demand the cause of it. "I beg a thousand pardons, sir. I thought there was some resemblance to Mr., of Boston, discoverable in your features; may I ask if he is in any way related to you?" "We stand, sir, in the very curious relationship of father and son." "Permit me, then, to introduce myself as Mr. ; one who has the honor to number himself among your father's warmest friends.” I now remembered hearing the name mentioned at home once or twice, but never with any very endearing epithets attached to it. Its proprietor originated in an obscure village in the western part of Massachusetts, had entered a counting-house in Boston when about eighteen years old, and after staying his time, had gone abroad to seek his fortune. During his absence he had amassed considerable wealth, and at his return purchased an estate within twenty miles of the metropolis, for a permanent residence. vanity prompting him to make a figure if possible, he would have liked to stand for representative of the town, but he was too illiterate even for that. After many schemes had His |