. . . . . . . _ . .....____. . - . . r s ~....: A , .. _.,. , ..._, ..fi, 1 .. ... _• . f.c. , . ~;.. .1 ~ ....• __............___-.- - SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXXIV, NUMBER 12.3 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY HORNING. Officein Carpet Hall, North-westcorner of Front and Locust streets. Terms of Subscription. Copypetanr.um,i f paidin advance, • if not paid withinthree monthafromcommeneemeniofthe year, 200 9. Claia.t.es a coorrx-.. No; uhsertptionreceivedtor a less time than six swaths; and no paper will he discontinued until all t rrearages.tre paid,uniessut the optionof the pub isher. 113Atoneymaybo•emittedbrmail atthepublisli er s risk. Rates of Advertising. qua r i(6l inesjone week, •• three weeks, each•ubsequentinsertion, 10 [l2.inesioneweek. 50 three weeks, t 00 eachrubsequentinsertion. 25 ba rgertdvertisementsin proportion iheral liscountwillhe made to quarterly, half cut , ' at tearlytdvertisers,wao arc strictlycoufined a their business. liostrg. Autumn. Now sheaves are slanted to tee sun Amid the golden meadows, And little sun-tanned gleaners run To cool them in their shadows; The reaper binds the bearded ear, And gathers in the go Iden year; And where the sheaves are glancing, The farmer's heart is dancing. There pours a glory of the land, Plashed down from Heaven's wide portals, As Labor's hand grasps Beauty's band To vow good-will to mortals: The golden year brings Beauty down, To bless her with a marriage crown. While Labor rises, gleaning Her blessings and their meaning. The work is done, the end is near, Heat, Heart, to dote and tabor, For Beauty wedded to the Year Completes herself front Labor; She dons her marriage gems, and then She casts them OVA. giCol to men, 'And: sunbeam-like, If dimmer. The fallen jewels glimmer. There iz a hu•h ofjoy and love Now given handl have crowned usi There is a heaven up above, And a heaven here 'mowed us! And Hope. her prophecies complete, Creeps up to pray at Beauty's reel, While with a thousand voices The perfect earth rejoices,: When to the Atrium.' heaven here Its I. replying. -weet 10 mina on r golden year it-elfin met Thai we -hail find p tor thimts of breath, Our own :Soul , . ton iiite-s 111 death. And leave. when God shall find us, Our gathered gems behind on. getertigito. The Phantom Bride. "Will you love me even beyond the tomb?" The question came from the vermillion lips of a young girl at a fancy-ball in Paris during the reign of Louis XV. She was a brilliant brunette, with abundant raven hair, and wore the Spanish veil and mantilla, which she bad assumed fur the occasion, with all the grace of a daughter of Andalu sia. Her interlocutor a young viscount of twenty, arrayed as a page of Mary Stuart, in Scotch plaid and Highland bonnet and feathers, had been pursuing the fair un known all the everting with protestations of love and eternal fidelity. His answer was prompt and unhesitating. "Yes, I swear it. If I die I will dream of you in the sepulchre, and a thrill of joy will welcome you if your foot but press the grass over my head." "And if I should die?" inquired the young girl in a sad tone. "If you should die, I will be as faithful to you dead as living; and if you should be permitted to visit me I will kissyour cold hand with as much love as at this moment —and he pressed to his lips the little white hand of the beautiful Spaniard. "AEI, well! I permit you, then, to love me? We shall see if yon are constant.— Farewell; we shall meet again." "But where?—when?" demanded the vis count, anxiously. "I cannot tell. Perhaps here—perhaps elsewhere—but you will see me." And with a gesture which forbade him to follow her, she disappeared in the crowd. Two years passed, during which Viscount Ralph sought vainly at Manly, at Versailles —in every place of public resort—for his beautiful unknown. He was a Scotcbman by birth, and like many of his countrymen, bad entered the service of the Ring of France.. But a court life did not comport with his slender fortune, and he —became, ere long, deeply involved in debt. "You must find some rich heiress," said his Sympathizing friends—it was the usual , resource of embaraseed gentlemen of that day. But the Viscount had not forgotten the bewitching Andalusian, and was in no moot, ox the search. He was spared the trouble. however. His uncle, who was _archbishop in pariibus of an Assyrian city destroyed by the Romans, informed him one day that it was time for him to marry, and thnt be bad found a wife for him. "Is she rich?" inquired Ralph. "I do not ask if she is pretty—it is all the same to me." "Very rich and very pretty." The Viscount thought of his unknown, and sighed; then thought of his creditors and consented. The uncle arranged every thing, and when all was settled he gave his nephew his benediction and two hundred pistolen, and sent him off to Burgundy to pay his respects to Mlle de Roche Noire, whom he was to marry in a fortnight. A glooiny journey of several days' dura tion brought him at length -to the ancient feudal manor-house of Roche Noire, situated in the heart of a forest, on a lofty rock from which it derives its name. He was ex pected. The grand door of the mansion was open, and the aged servant met him at the threshold, and conducted him to a large hall, at the extremity of which sat an old man and a young girl. The former, whom he divined at once-to be the Baron of Roche Noire, rose at his entrance and saluting him in the somewhat formal fashion of the day, presented him to his daughter Her mine. The latter bad the delicate beauty of the flower which has unfolded under a northern sun. She was pale, with fair hair. and eyes of the deep blue of an Italian sky. tier figure was slight but graceful, her hands exquisitely shaped, and transparent as alabaster. So much the Viscount saw as he bent low before his betrothed, and in spite of his indifference, he inwardly con gratulated himself on his good fortune. el 50 OEI The baron and Viscount exchanged the usual reciprocal compliments and inquiries. Ralph was accustomed to society, and un derstood the art of making himself agreea ble, the baron, spite of his seventy winters, had not forgotten bow to be a courtier, and liermine bad the simple grace, the dignity, the modesty without prudery, of a young girl of high birth, religiously educated, but without any rigidity. The conversation soon became animated and sparkling, while Ralph watched flartnine, and now and then murmured to himself, "She is charming! blessings on my uncle for finding me a wife at once so pretty and so rich." When supper was announced he offered his hand to the youug girl, who accepted it with a blush, while the baron led the way to the dining-room. It was a lofty apart ment, furnished in the massive style of Louis XIV, and upon the walls were sus pended ancient family portraits. As Ralph's eyes glanced over these he was attracted by one whose freshness formed a striking con trast to the smoky canvases of the defunct Barons of Ruche Noire. It represented a yonng gill of dazzling, but foreign beauty. such as is only found under southern skies. A. more brilliant daughtar of Spain never danced the bolero in the perfumed gardens of the Alhambra. rile eyes of Ka fixed immovably upon the t - !aTivii.; the firms: glace had told him.that it way 'lls unknown of the fancy ball. "Come, my dear Vi,eount," said the bar on, "let us be seated." —London Athefurum Ralph started and obeyed; then turned his eyes from the portrait to Hemline. In oontrast with that glowing beauty she ap peared to him utterly insipid. He made some remark about the picture. The baron did not reply, but a cloud passed over his face, and Hemline turned pale, and eat si lent with downcast eyes. A chill seemed to be thrown over these three persona, just now talking so joyously. Brief remarks were made occasionally in a conetrained tone, and the supper ended almost in silence. At its close the Viscount made the fatigue of his journey an excuse for retiring early. As the servant was conducting him to his apartment, they passed again through the dioing•hall. "Whose portrait is this?" he asked, point ing to the picture of the lady. The servant hesitated. "Speak!" said the Viscount, imperiously. "It is the portrait of M'lle Fulmen," said the old man trembling. "And who is she?" "The elder sister of Wile Hermine." "But she is dressed in Spanish costume." "Yea, her mother was a Spanish lady." "And Fulmen, where is she now?" "She is dead," said the old man, solemn ly. "She lies at the left of the altar in the chapel of the Chateau." Fatigue bad no power that night to bring sleep to Ralph's eyelids. It was in vain that he extinguished the candles, and buried his bead under the blankets; the image of Fulmen still pursued him. Now it was Fulmen radiant with beauty, as she was representd in the picture, and as he bad seen her at the fancy ball; again, it was Fulmen, pale and cold, extended in her coffin under the pavement of the chapel. Then he remembered his oath, to love her as well dead as living, and a cold sweat bathed his brow. At that moment a light at the opposite extremity of the apartment attracted his attention; a door, whose ex istence he bad not suspected, turned noise lessly on its binges; the candles re-lighted themselves spontaneously, and a figure draped in a winding-sheet entered the worn and approached his bed. It advanced slowly; the most acute ear could have detected no footsteps. Brave as he was, the viscount trembled at the apparition. When the figure was within a few feet of the bed the winding sheet was thrown back, and re vealed a young girl dressed in Spanish cos tume. "Fulment" he murmured; "the picture has descended from its frame!" It was indeed Fulmen, just as she was painted, save that the lips were pale. the eye mournful, the whole expression unspeak ably sad. "Fulatenl" repeateditthe viscount, with a tone of terror, in which was mingled a suet of feverish* joy. _ "It is I," she mid. "Do you remember your oath? They have told you that lam dead." The teeth of Ralph chattered; bOt the voice :was so pare, so melodioni. that it aided him to - shake off the terror which was creeping over him. "NO ENTERTA/MIENT SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MOB - NT - NG, OCTOBER 18, 1862 "No, you are not dead," he exclaimed, with an effort. "I have been dead a year," replied Ful. men, sadly. "They buried me in the chapel. You can read my epitaph on the marble slab, the third from the high altar." Ralph could not detach his eyes from this singular creature, whose marvelous beauty counteracted in some degree the terror which the apparition would otherwise have caused. "Alas!" resumed the spectre - draping the shroud about her form with all the co quetry with which a living belle might wrap an opera cloak ground about her--1 am dead, really dead, at seventeen, when life was full of light, and perfume, and music; when tears, even, were so sweet that they resembled smiles; when the present was so happy that the future was quite forgotten. And then, I loved you. I trusted in your oath; but you did not care for me. You have come here to marry my sister." "Fulmool" murmured Ralph, who felt a pang of remorse at his heart, "I have loved you; I love you still." She shook her head. •The dead are never loved," she said mournfully. Ralph trembled, lie felt his blood cur dle in his veins. lle remembered his oath. Yet Fulmen did not complain. She did not overwhelm him with reproacLes. She seem ed resigned. Lie saw her lean her bead up on her hand; a tear shone in her eye, and a shiver passed through her frame. "I am cold," she said, and, rising from the chair in which she bad seated herself, she approached the fire-place, and bent as if to warm herself by the half-extinguished brands. "The dead are always cold," -sbe murmured. "Heavens!" exclaimed Ralph, "you are not dead; but, dead or living, you are beau tiful, more beautiful than any living wo man, and I love you as on the day 1 first saw you." "The dead are never loved," she repeated mournfully. -But you are not dead. The limbs of the dead are rigid: the flesh corrupt; they are insensible; they cannot walk; they can not speak; you are nut dead; it is hopes- lead," repeated Fulmen, in a tone ~fnut h .city which admitted of no question, "dead—and yet I suffer." “You sutler," the viscount exclaimed. "Yes. Because I died with a guilty thought in my heart. I remembered the ball where I met you It was earthly love, not penitence, that engrossed my last hours. Yet if you who are alive can love me still, God will perhaps pardon me, and I shall suffer no longer." "I do love you," cried Ralph, gazing at the young girl so beautiful in her sadness. Yet a secret voice said within him, "Ah! if she were only alive!" A pale smile passed over the face of the phantom. It rose and advanced toward him. Ralph involuntarily shrank back at its approach. "You see," she said, mournfully, "it is always so. The living fear the dead." "No, no!" said be, eagerly, ashamed of his mementerp terror; "no, Fulmen, my be loved, come!" She extended her hand. and took that of the young man. Ralph uttered a cry. Isis hand was pressed by the cold, clammy fing ers of a corpse. She let his hand fall. ''No," she repeated, in a half-suffocated voice, "yoe see it cannot be—l shall suffer always." And she fled, while Ralph was so over whelmed that he had no power to speak or move. The candles went out suddenly; si lence reigned again in the chamber; the phantom had vanished. The next day dawned briglir and beauti ful. The Baron de Roche Noire, who did not appear to notice the pallor and abstrac tion of his guest, proposed a hunt. The day was spent in the open air; and if, amid the excitement of the chase, the viscount thought of the occurances of the last night, they seemed to him only as a bewildering dream. But with the return of darkness, and especially at the sight of the picture, the apparition again seemed to him a re ality, and ho determined to ascertain the truth. Pleading a headache be retired to his room, and extinguishing the candles, he called softly: "raiment" Fairness!" Tbere was no answer. Again be called: "Fu!meat I lore you though dead!" Immediatly the candles were re-lighted and Putman again appeared. She throw off her winding-sheet and seated herself in a chair by his side. Iler face bad the cada verous paleness of the tomb; her eye was sad; her step slow and painful; yet her ex qusite beauty exerted the same fascination over Ralph as when sparkling with life and vivacity. "Fulmeo I love youl" be repeated, gazing at her with admiration. "Yet if my band should touoh yours." she replied with a sad smile, "you would utter a cry as you did last night; the dead are al ways cold." •Give me your hand and you will see," said Ralph, exteuding resolutely his own.— She took it, and again there came over him the same terrible sensation as before; but he had self-control enough to conquer it, and again to repeat: "1 love you!" A Bright smile illomioed the features of Fames, "My poor friend," she said, "I would gladly believe you; but if your love would end my sufferings, it must be so profound, so ardent, that it can conquer even the de sire to live. A tomb with me must have attractions for you. And you are but twenty-two, Ralph. At your age life is sweet." The viscount shook his bead. "To live without you is death; to be unit ed to you, even in the tomb, would be life." ko care, my friend." "Of what, dear Fulmen?" exclamed Ralph over vv tint the smile .ifthe young girl seem ed to exercise an overwhelming fascination. "Do you kviow ," she said, "that if you ut ter such a wish, God may bear your prayer?" Ahl if he would! An eternity by your side would be infinite bapiness." "Ralph, my friend," interupted Fulmen, while a smile of celestial joy shone in her face,"take care; you will die if you love me." "I wish to die." "But you are betrothed to my sister." An exclamation of anger escaped him. "I hate her!" he said vehemently. "Why?" "Because she is alive, while you are dead. What has she done that she should enjoy the light of the sun, the perfume of the flow ers, the melody of the birds? Was the any younger or more beautiful?" "Ralph, you aro unjust. My sister had no control over her destiny or mine." "You. are right, perhaps, but I swear to you.that I will never marry Ilermine. I wish to be yours, and yours only, forever." "You are mad, my friend; I cannot accept happiness at such a sacrifice." She rose slowly. "Adieu, Ralpb,"she said. Marry Ilermine and pray for me," "Fulmenl Fulmen!" exclaimed Ralph, falling on his knees at her feet. "Do no: abaudon me—l love you!" "But your love is death." "It is happiness! It is life!" His tone was so earnest, so touching, that the young girl hesitated. "Let me live eternally with you!" he pee -1 sisted. "Listen, my friend," she said at length, as if she could no longer resist hie entreat ies, "in this casket," pointing to a richly carved box which stood on the table, "there is a phial containing a dark liquid." "And that liquid?" "Is death." "It is happiness," exclaimed Ralph, seiz• ing the casket. Fulmen stopped him by a gesture. "Not yet," she said; "by-aad-by—at mid night—but first—reflect." Immediatly the candles were extinguish ed. and he found himself in complete dark ness. If Viscount Ralph had been a Frenchman, as soon as Putman disappeared he would have opened the window, and let the cool night air play upon his brow. Then the fever fit being over, he would have said to himself. "All this is folly. lam twenty-two years old, an officer in the king's service, and am about to marry a young girl, bland as a Ma donna, fair as a lily, who will bring me an income of a hundred thousand livres. I have only to be quiet and let things take their course." After which we would have slept quietly, and dreamed no more of Fulmen. But Ralph was a Scotchman, with an imagin ation as susceptible of exaltation as most of his countrymen of the land of mountain and mist. As soon as the phantom vanished, he re-lighted the candle by the aid of a half-extinguished firebrand, and, opening the casket, he took out the phial. ••Fuhneu! Fulmen! wait for me! lam I winos ;; !" he murmured, and swallowed the c•ntteuts at a draught. For a moment ho experienced a strange and inexplicable sensation; a coldness in the chest, a heat in the head; then his eyes be came heavy; his limbs trembled, an extreme languor crept over him, and he sank upon the floor still murmuring faintly: '•Fulmen, wait for me-1 love you." When Ralph swallowed the contents of the phial he expected to wake in the other world. lie was mistaken. The phial con tained only a narcotic, and he was very much astonished on opening his eyes to find himself in bed, and to see the sun shitting through the curtained window. A. woman sat by the bedside. It was Fulmen: but no longer the pale, sad Fulmen, with livid lips, and form enveloped in a winding sheet; but Fulmen, fresh, radiant, joyous, in the same costume she wore at the fancy ball. The reader will understand the explana tion of all this more readily than the young viscount, whose bead was still somewhat confused from the effect of the narcotic.— The young girl bad wished to put the sad den passion of her ball room lover to the test; and with some difficulty she had per suaded her fond old father and her cousin Hermine to lend themselves to the mystifi cation. A. little ingenuity, some invisible assistance, a transparent glove of serpent skin, aided by the native superstition of the young &adman, were all that was neces sary to the success of the scheme. We need not fly that the viscount, when he recovered his senses was very glad to ex change his phantom bride for a living one. A Batt.—At a young ladies' seminary, a few days since, daring an examination in history, one of the most promising pupils was interrogated:--"Mary. did Martin Lu ther die a natural death?" "No" was the gr.n mpt reply; 'qui was excommunicated by a ur From Temple Bar Noses; A Chapter out of Lavater. -Non coigne datum eat hither° nasum." When I say "out of Lavater," I do not mean that I have transcribed some pages from one of the handsome quarto volumes of the excellent Swiss pastor, who was widely recognized in his generation as a man of erudition, philosophy, piety and humanity. All this must be awarded to the enthusiastic advocate, rather than ex pounder of physiognomy. No one can read those elegant fragments, so carefully and profusely illustrated, without admiration. I think no one can read them without a cer tain degree of conviction of the truth of their principles. Physiognomy, according to Lavater, is the language of nature. There may be ap ples of Sodom—persons and things whose exteriors are utterly deeeptive; but the rule of life is to judge by appearances. If you say, with all the emphasis that belongs to an apothegm, •`appearances are often de ceitful," I can only tell you tlint, in this case, often means sometimes. As a rule, ap pearances do not deceive us. As a rule, the strong man does not appear weak, nor the weak one strong. As a rule, the man of talent does not look like a fool, nor vice versa. Who will say that good men com monly appear to be bad ones?—and if a bad man tries to pass for a good one, ho makes an effort to change the spontaneous expret , - sion of his nature, and to appear what he is not. We constantly judge of the qualities of things by external appearances. Every man who goes to market knows this. We select animals for our varied purposes by the same rule. No one buys a dray-horse for a racer. The bull-dog and the grey hound are not liable to be mistaken for each other. lam as sure that the three bullet headed, thick-necked, and pug-nosed per sonages I saw the other day driving up Piccadilly and along Hyde Park in q butch er's cart were not members of the House of Peers, as I am that my blooded bay, with his slender logs, arched neck, and flashing nostrils, would not find his proper place between the thilla of one of Barclay and Perkins's beer-drays. Lavater, who was a broad and compre hensive, if not accurate and analytic, phil osopher, in judging the character of a man by his exterior, takes his whole figure into view, as well as his attitudes, gait, manner, dress, and even his furniture and surround. ings; but he tenches that as, in the harmo nies of nature, every part must correspond to every other, a part may indicate the whole. Our naturalists find this simple enough, and can tell us the habits of an animal from a tooth to a toe-nail. If then the foot, supposing a natural one could be found, and more notably the hand, may in dicate the character, still more must the face, that wonderful seat of expression, where thoughts, emotions, passions, and characters, for.ned through successive gen erations, are stamped, as valleys and moun tains are stamped upon the earth, or flit across it, like clouds across a summer sky. And if we are to look on the face for the strongest, highest, and most perfect expres sion oficharauter, even in the face of a beast, there must be some feature of the face on which it is pre-eminently written. That feature, to keep the reader in suspense no longer, is the Nose! I can imagine looks of incredulity, but it is "as plain as the nose on your face." The nose is the central fea ture, and the face would not be a face with out it. Imagine its absence! lbw would a man look without a nose? Ile may lose his legs, arms, eyes, and ears, and may con ceal forebeod, mouth, and chin, yet, with a decent nose pass muster. Even the small est, most insignificant, and most unshapely nose is infinitely better than none. Must not that be the most important feature whose absence producei - the most hideous deformity? And must not a feature be sig nificant of character in proportion to its im portance? Ergo—et cetera. When I had road Lavater'e fragment on noses, and looked at his illustrations In the library of the British Museum, I took walk among the antiquities to see what the Assyrians, Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans thought about the matter; and I found that gods and demi-gods, kings and heroes, have all noble and beautiful noses. An inch on a man's nose would be in a majority of cases, a striking elongation; but the antique sculptors, -when they bad modelled the noblest and most symmetrical human face, full of strength and dignity, power and majesty, the face of an ideal monarch or hero, had only to add a few lines to the length of the nose, and the face becomes that of a god. So the great painters, in the revival of art in Europe, when they have gathered all beauty into the countenances of holy personages, have made their faces divine by the idealisation of this single fea tuee. Look, for example, at the "Ecoti Homo" of Correggio, or at the Madonnas of Raphael. I think that if there .were:any doubt whether a Greek statue were intend ed for a deity or.a mortal, it could always be settled by measuring the nose. There are striking proofs of the accuracy of the ancient sculptors in their representations of mortals. The Hebrews on the slabs from Nineveh might have been copied from pho tographs taken at the Royal Exchange. Negroes of the Egyptian frescoes are the veritable Sambas of a plantation in Brazil or Alabama. And, - please to observes, is each case the nose is the distinguishing lea $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVA ture. It was from observation, then, that they gave their great men great noses; great, I mean, in the true elements and signs of greatness. Naturally they expanded these when they attempted the representation of divine attributes. how beautiful are the noses on the Egyp tian sculptures! You may spend hours in etudying them on covers of porphyry sarco phagi. But if you would have all the majesty of a nose, look at the Greek Jupiter; or if all the masculine beauty, study the Appollo. The bust of homer may he of doubtful authenticity as a portrait, but what a nose! You ask, perhaps, what that signi fies if it is not a portrait. It shows us, my friend, what the observation of the Greek sculptors had taught them to consider a suitable nose for a limner; and that is no slight consideration. If painters and tore were to represent heroic and beautiful ideals with mean and grostesque noses, we should think them worthy of a lunatic asylum; and in this verdict we concede all that Lavater has claimed. Look again at the busts of Pythagorits and Plato. What majesty! what wisdom!. and what noses! One nose there was in ancient Greece, which is, it must be con fessed, a hard nut, for Lavater—the con spicuous pug of Socrates- But we have the testimony of the philosopher himself, that his wisdom and virtues were a triumph of constant effort over his natural dispositions. And such a pug as we see portrayed upon the mug of the philosopher betokens not a little energy, and that it is eseet.tional, proving a rule, is shown by the fact that everybody is astonished that such a znao should have such a nose. If you turn to the left on first entering the British Museum, you pass into a gallery of :Roman portrait busts. Several are of doubtful or Unknown personages, and a number, I am sorry to observe, have lost their noses by the accidents of fifteen or twenty centuries; but there are the busts and noses entire, and to all appearance faithfully accurate, of Julius Caesar, Augus tus, Nero, Domitian, Antoninus, Caligula, and a few imperial ladies. Suppose one were to transpose the two noses of Nero and Julius Caesar. Each face would be made monstrous. Nero's is monstrous as it is. Lie has been called handsome, but his nose is that of a demon of cruelty and lust. And this notion of a transposition of noses reminds me that the change of this one lea. tura is all that is necessary for the most of fectual disguise. A false nose is as delusive as an entire mask. A false eye must be matched in color with the true one, and there is a disagreeable contrast; but a man who has the misfortune to require a false nose must get one in harmony with his whole face, and one which is therefore a true expression of his character, or the ef fect will be very unpleasant. No two faces are alike; no two noses will suit the same face; and none but a nose of wax will suit two faces. "Nose of wax!" A pliable character is one whose nose may be moulded to any contour. The more the reader studies this remark able feature of the "human face divine"— and a noseleas face would have no divinity —the more will he appreciate its importance. Noses mark the peculiarities of races, and the gradations of society. The noses of the Australians, the Esquituax, and the Negroes —broad, flat, and weak—mark their mental and moral characteristices. The striking differences between the African negro and the North American Indian are sculptured on their noses. In the mingled races and different classes of our own country we find the largest variety, and everywhere, if we but examine, the nose is the index of class as well as character. The noses of the aristocracy are not those of the democracy; and how could one more appropriately ex press his contempt for an inferior than by turning up his nose at him? Do we see the same kind of noses at the east end of the town as at the west? in the stalls arid dress circle of the opera, and in the sixpenny pit and threepenny gallery of the minor thea tre? at a prize fight and a fashionable eve ning party? In smaller towns where social grades are brought nearer together, and can ho more readily compared and examined, the contrast is very remarkable. Dublin, for example, presents us with with a per. feet gamut of noses, from the most diminu tive small potato:xi pug to the symmetrical Grecian and haughty Roman. The pug in rags drives along in a picturesque donkey cart; the elegant Grecian in its statuesque beauty, glides past on the sidewalk; the Roman reclines in a carriage, whose panels exhibit the insignia of ancient rank and do minion. There are Irish fact. of children and of savages, simply good or fearfully bad, and there are also those of the highest cul ture and refinement. Beauty, genius, val or, and nobility have their home in the sad sister island; but all these find their op posites, often in a strange proximity. If you look at the progress of the individ ual life, the contour of the nose marks all its stages. Who ever saw a baby with a Roman or aquiline nose, or even a Grecian? The baby-nose is a little snub, the nose of weakness and undevelopmeut. The child's nose keep. its inward carve; is youth it straightens; and then comes in certain char acters and calms, the bold. outward curve of the aquiline or the stronger prominence of the Roman. It may stop at any point in this march of progress. and present a case of arrested development. And we all feel instinctively that a certain shaped nose is [WHOLE NUMBER 1,678. the proper index of a certain character.— !Who expects to see a sotthrette on the stake with an aristocratic nose? Ur; nez relrousse is her proper type. The low comedian, if not happily favored by nature, must call in. the aid of a touch of vermillion. A suitable none is as necessary as a red wig. But the hero of the play must have a proper nose; and if the man who plays romantic robLers has one prominent enough, and like an - gig's beak, it will be some extra shillings :tt his weekly salary. When I had pondered Lavater, and eau ! veyecl antiquites in stone and bronze, fret coes and vases, I looked into the collectiot of portraits of distinguished men, looking et pecially, as we always do and must look, t t the most prominent feature. What wondet ful noses they have! There was not such a nose in all Europe, in his time, as that am n upon the face of the Emperor Charles V.; and those of henry I V., Pope Alexander VII., Charles Xll. of Sweden, and Frederick 11. of Prussia, were scarcely less remarkable The fierce nose of the youthful Napoleon, compacted into the massive one of the Em peror; and then, for a soldierly and heroic nose, where would you look fur a finer one than that which marked, among a millior, the striking face of Wellington? All that was great in firmness, patience, and heroism is the character of Washington, is stamped upon his nose. Look now at the beautiful noses of ao poets. Tasso, Dante, retrain!), have noses like the gods of Immortal verso: Our own bards are in no way deficient. Study the portraits of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, Pope, and so down to the present Laureate. See also Moliere, Voltaire, Eras mus, Pascal, and Schiller. Allman of genius, but how varied! But there is not a greater variety in character than in. that feature which the ancients called "boriestamentum facial;" and which is all that, and something more. Could Schiller's bust change noses with Voltaire's? Try the experiment, and if it proves satisfactory I will abandon the theory, and call science a cheat and nature an impositor, and Lavater a dupe and a donkey. Show me a thief with the nose of Algernon Sidney; show me an empty fop, if there are any yet extant, with the nose of Lord Bacon; or some soft poltroon with the profile of Philip Sidney or Elliott, the hero of Gibralter; find me, in a group of costermon gers and potboys, the noses of Cato and Cicero, Locke and Johnson, Loyola, Titian, Michael Angelo, or Lord Brougham, and you may have my head for a football, and de what you like with its special honestamen tuts. Or if you have any doubt of the accuracy of these portraits; if you say that painters are as to flatter, and so admit the whole ar gument when you allow that to paint amen with a strong, or bold, or subtle, or heroic nose is flattery, hero is a study for you hi the nearest stationer's window, or in those admirable collections of photographic por traits in Regent Street, the Strand, or Fleet Street, or scattered over the metropolis.— Compare a row of distinguished portraits, from the aristocracy of birth and blood, oft enabled by noble deeds, or the aristocracy of talent and genius, with another line which you may select from the show-board of the sixpenny galleries, and to which no names are attached. "Comparisons are odious," but in the cause of science they are more than justifiable. I could spend hours in studying the distinguished and beautiful faces which bear upon them the stamp of birth and the refinement of breeding, or the power and energy of genius and ambition— those who have been ennobled in the past, and those who aro ennobling themselves in the present. But is there no chance fur a man without a nose, that is to say, without much of a nose? Wherever there is ambition, Were is hope. Men succeed against great obstacles, and why not against little noses? The case of Socrates is certainly encouraging. En ergy not seldom declares itself in a knob that muy require one or two generations to mould into symmetry. When a man has shown qualities beyond the expectations based upon his proboscis, them is no doubt that that organ visibly expands, and that it will be found fully developed in hie poster ity. I might easily extend my observations to the whole annimal creation, and prove the theory of Lavater by an elaborate essay on comparative noseology. What animal has the moat remarkable nose? The "half-reason ing elephant." to be sure. Where resides the majesty of the lion, and gives him hie title of "king of beasts!" In hie lordly and almost human nose. The fiercest of fishes, which can kill the monsters of the deep, and even pierce a ship's bottom, owes his prow ' ess to the length and hardness and sharpness of his no4e,—just what we should expect of eword•fish, and a remarkable contrast to the feature which is the distinguishing char acteristic of the bottlenose whale. We might study birds, from the snipe to the eagle; but enough. A word to people with good noses is sufficient: the rest may be ex pected to give a wide berth to Liwater.— They may set their faces against his doctrines but it is a comfort to think that there is not mach harm to be expected from the op position of a face which is deficient in its most important feature. The adsS3ente' of physiognomy may safely appeal to his intel ligent, and therefore well•lookiog readers; and when the question is pat in snob an assembly, be may be well contented tolake the eyes and nose.
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