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Vol.. VIII, No. 19.]
PUBLISHED BY
THEODORE H. CREMER.
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." , •
POETP.T.
Sweet Seventeen.
In childhood when my girlish eye
Glanced over life's unfaded green,
Thoughts undefined, and sweet and new,
Would blend with thee, sweet seventeen.
Rest, ained at twelve by matron care,
My walks prescribed, my movements seen,
How bright the sun, how free the air
Seemed circling u'er bright seventeen.
Thirteen arrived, hut still my book,
My dress, were watched with aspect keen;
Scarce on a novel might I look,
And balls—must wait for seventeen.
F ourteen— allowed the evening walk,
Where ft iendship's eye illum'd the scene,
The long, romantic bosom talk,
That talk which glanced at seventeen.
The next revolving circle brought
A quicker pulse, yet graver mien;
I read-•-I practised, studied, thought
For what ?---to stip at seventeen.
Sixteen arrived—that witching year
When youthful hearts !Ike buds are seen,
Ready to ope, when first appear
The genial rays of seventeen.
They came---have passed---think not, fair
maids,
My hand shall draw the magic screen ;
But this 1 utge—fill well your heads,
And guard your hearts for seventeen.
111130MLLANMOZO.
From Sargent's Magazine.
THE PERILS OF PLEASING
EVERI7.IIIODI.
BY EMS SARGENT.
Not many seasons since, as I was sit-
ting in a box sit the Park Theatre, on the I
occasion of the perfcrmance of
brilliant opera of La Somnambuk," one
of those instances of the tvranical surveil.
lance exercised lry the pied an American
audience, over the assemblage in the first
tier, occurred immediately under icy no
tice. The exquisite quiet, with which the
first act concludes, had been charmingly
sung by Mr. and Mrs. Wood—the curtain
had fallen to a burst of enthusiastic ap
plause from a well filled house—and there
was a noise of persons issuing from the
boxes into the lobby, when a loud hiss
from the pit attracted my attention.
Looking in the quarter from which the
sibilation proceeded, I discovered that the
box, of which I was one of the ocupants,
was the centre of attraction for that por
tion of the audience, who were signifying
their disapprobation. And what tied ex•
cited among them those expressions of re
buked It was long before I conld divine
the cause. At length, when the storm of
hisses rose to such a height, that many la•
dies began to rise in alarm front their
seats, L learned that a gentleman on the
front bench, in a white broadcloth over
coat, was the object of the pit's sapient
displeasure because of his persisting in
using an opera-glass.
The individual thus designated was of
the middle height, slim, and apparently of
a delicate constitution, but with a head
and face indicative of strength of charac
ter and intellectual cultivation. And yet
there was something in the expression of
the features, thatpuzzled me exceedingly,
while at the same time I felt that it was
irresistibly winning. It was behign and
playful, with a dash of scorn; sell posses.
fearless and energetic, and, at the
same time, humble, child-like, and unas
suming. I. That man is a perfect para
dox," - thought I to myself ; " his head is
a bundle of contradictions."
The hissing of those censors of man
ners and applauders of sentiment, whose
tribunal is the pit, seemed to produce no
outward manifestation of concern in the
object for whom it was intended. With
• .4! . .
f l e :1
A. 211 •
•4
• '
i.# l l _
'the most imperturbable gravity, he contin-ii
ued to level his opera-glass now in one di- i
rection and now in another, occasionally ,
! wiping it with a fine cambric hand ker.
chief, and then deliberately lifting it to
his eyes, notwithstanding the hisses, I
'shrieks - and cat-calls, which the move-
ment invariably called forth.
" Put down that quizzing-glass, d—n
your eyes !" screamed a stout, burly
young man, rising on one of the benches
but alew feet limn the box, and shaking
his list at the holder. Fur an instant the
hissing was suspended ; and, much no my
surprise, the gentleman with the opera•
glass removed it from his eyes. The pit,
supposing that they had at length gained
the victory began to applaud ; but their
congratulations were speedily checked.—
lie had merely removed the offentlints in.
strument to arrange the screw. Appa
rently as regardless of the existence of
any one in the pit before hint as he was of
the man in the moon, lie now again tesnm
ed his inspection of some distant object,
the drop•eurtain, pet haps, with his glass.
Ills censors seemed to grow absolutely
frantic at this new evidence of his disre
gard of their clamor ; and the stalwart
young man, who had before risen to intim
idate him by a menace of personal vio
lence, again started up and called upon
him to put down that glass.
"At him, Bob! Pitch into him, and
take it away," cried several voices, in
coarse accents of encouragement.
Bob drew nearer, evidently disposed to
do their bidding.
The g entleman rose, holding the glass
'
in his le ft hand, and reg arding hisantago
nist through it with pet feet composure.--
Bub suddenly reached forward attempted
to snatch it away. But he little dreamed
what manner of a customer lie hail to deal
with. Without removing the glass, the
gentleman, by a well-directed blow with
his right hand, sent the brawny ruffin
staggering and bleeding, nearly into the
centre of the pit.
The whole audience now rose in a state
of excitement; and cries of " Put them
out I Put them out!" resounded from
every part of the theatre. Almost the
only person who seemed to be wholly un
concerned in the mindst of the tumult,
was the gentleitan who innocently pro
duced it. lie continued to hold the opera
glass to his eyes, notwithstandin,„ ,, the an
' gry expostulations of many gentlemen in
the boxes, and the uproar created by the
Chesterfields of the pit. Nothing could
induce him to remove it—not even the
pleading and reproachful glances of a
, beautiful girl who occupied an adjoining
seat. The handle of the glass seemed
glued to his hand, and the barrels to his
eyes,... . .
While the excitement was at its height,
the curtain rose, and the sound of music
diverted the attention of the audience,
The man with the opera•glass composedly
took his seat, and the pit sullenly and
murmuringly followed his example. By
the time Mrs. Woods, as the fair somnam
bulist, had entered Rodolph's apartment
and commenced the plaintive melody she
sinv in her sleep, all was once more tran
quil, and the second act closed without
luny interruption. As the curtain fell, the
pit simultaneously turned, as one man, to
l look after their friend with the opera
glass. He had replaced it in his side
pocket, the moment he found there was
no attempt to oppose him in the use of it;
but now, that he perceived the object of
those who were scrutinizing him, lie again
I drew it forth with most provoking delibe
ratton and coolness, and, after carefully
{
wiping it with his glove, lifted it slowly
but surely to his eyes. Again did one
consentaneous hiss arise from the pit, and
again did the refractory subject quietly
presist in the act, which excited their dis.
pleasure. In vain (lid some swear at him,'
and some shake their fists. Since the
display he had already given of his pugil
istic powess, no one among those who
condemned his persevming defiance of
the despotism of Messieurs, the mob, ven
tured to do more than indulge in an im
potent threat. Alter the whole house had
once inure been (brown into a state of
commotion, the curtain rose upon the third
act, and quiet was restored.
Mrs. Wood's brilliant execution of the
" Alt! don't mingle," seemed to
drown the recollection of the recent dis•
turbances. The applause wad universal,
and the man with the opera-ghs's joined in
it with evident enthusiasm. But soon the
plaudits died away—the curtain tell—
and the pit, seeing nothing more upon the
stage to engage their attention, again tur
ned their eyes to the man with the opera
glass, remaining in their places apparent•
ly for the sole purpose of watching his
movements. That imperturbable indi•
victual arose--drew on his gloves, a pro
cess which he contrived to render rather
tedious--buttoned his white surtout tight
ly around him up to his chin—placed his
cane under his arm, and then wheeled
about as if to depart. But a party in one
of the private boxes of the second tier have
suddenly arreste..l his attention. lle turns,
"ONE COUNTRY, 01 , 4 E CONSTITUTION, ONE DE3TINY."
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 24
once more draws forth the portentous
opera-glass, and applies it to his eyes—
At this final display of indillerence to their
prejudices the poor fellows in the pit
seemed to glow almost with wild rage,
and a volley ut hisses and yells, that sur
passed all former ebullitions in emphasis
and force, was directed towards the Mien
, ding individual. Fur a full minute he
continued, in spite of the clamor, to make
use of time glass. Then with a face which
betrayed nothing save art expression of
curiosity as to the identity of the persons
he had been surveying, he slowly deposi
ted the glass in its case, restored the
to his pocket, bowed gracefully to the gen
tlemen of the pit, and, with the air of a
man who loiters, he knows not why, took
his departure, as deaf, apparently, to the
unearthly noises around him as to the
music of the spheres. An mange, which
was aimed at him by the Pittites, took ef
fect on the ruby cheek of a corpulent gen
tleman, who had been vociferating with
great animation against him, because of
the contempt he had manifested for the
voice of the majority. The fat man turned
in the direction from which the missile
came—and the last 1 saw of him lie was
shaking his fists, and working himself up
into a state which threatened to render
him a most promising subject for art attack
of apoplexy. What became of him I nev
er heard, though I carelully examined the
reports of the coroner's inquests fur se
veral days afterward.
On issuimm4 front the theatre into the
open air, I found that the weather was
rainy, and, having with me no umbrella, 1
called to a cab.man to take me in his ye
hide.
"Cab's engaged, sir," replied the man;
"but perhaps the gentleman won't object
to giving you a seat."
" No you don't, driver" cried a voice
from the inside. "No tricks upon tra
vellers, it you please!"
"Itis no matter," said I. 's There will
be another cab here soon."
But it is matter," exclaimed the oc
cupant of the cab in an altered tone.—
" °pelt the door,
drive's.. Why keep the
gentleman stan ding in the rain 1 You
are quite welcome, sir, I only go as far as
the Globe."
is 111 y own destination !" replied
"This is quite fortunate."
I entered the vehicle, and the light of a
lamp falling at the same moment upon
the features of the occupant, I at once
saw that he was the man who had produc
ed the sensation in the theatre by his in
dependent
use of an opera-glass.
" I was glad to see that you came off
victorious," said I. " You bravely vin•
dhated the liberty of the individual in
your person."
" You allude to me and toy opera-glass,"
he repliel "What an absurd tyranny
was that they attempted to exercise
over me: If such demands are submit
ted to, we shall soon see them hooting a
man for wearing a patent respirator ur
pair of sky-blue spectacles."
The perfect composure with which'
you met their assaults, was admirable,"
said I. "It looked at one tttne as if there
would be a personal melee."
I have always found," returned my
companion, " (fiat those who lend them
selves, whether collectively or individual
ly, to oppression of any kind, are invaria
bly cowards. It proved so in the affair of
the opera•glass,"
The noise of the wheels prevented the
interchange of many inure amarks, and
in three minutes we reached the Globe in
safety."
" Do you ever take supper?" asked my
new acquaintance, as we entered the lin
tel.
" I occasionally fall into that habit, af
ter going through a course of balk and
parties," I replied, " but of late 1 have
been abutinent."
" A few oysters and a glass of Blan
card'a sparkling. !lock can do you no
harm, 1 am sure," said toy companion,
leading the way to the dining hall..
It — has occurred to me several times
that you were studying me," continued
he, as we Inund ourselves seated at the
table.
"1 acknowledge myself a general stu•
dent of character," said 1, " and yours ut
course presents itself as one well worthy
of scrutiny."
" You are quite right there," returned
he. " Fill up your glass ; and before we '
swear eternal friendship, hear my story.
Born of a reputable family and to a hand•
some fortune, I started lite upon the prin
ciple of pleasing every body, without re
' Terence to my own advantages. What a
sweet, amiable, obliging buy !' was the
exclamation of all who knew me, from my
maiden aunt to the girl who scrubbed the
floors. Little dunce that 1 was, 1 was
proud of their commendation, and pleased
with expressions ,of gratitude from every
human creature who might chance to come
in my way. My organ of approbative•
ness must have been enormous in those
days. It has sensibly decreased since.
B u t I ant wearying you !"
" Not at all. Pray proceed."
"If you are very much interested, we
will change the subject."
"Very well. It is a matter of perfect
indillerer,ce to me."
"'Then 1 veil go on ; and since you seem
indisposed to drink any more, I will re
fill your glass. But to return to my sto
ry. As I grew up I manifested the same
solicitous desire to be thought well ut by
the world, that I had displayed in my
inure verdant days. At college so sensi
tive was I to the dislike of my classmates,
so afraid of having ahem think or speak
harshly of me, that I rarely ventured to
say No,' to any request whatsoever.—
The consequence was, that before my
junior year I was expelled, in company
with Frank Dubrawl, who had nut only
borrowed money from me to a most pat
ronizing extent, but had led me into the
scrape, which was the cause of my colle
giate disgrace. Rarely did I Make any
movement, however trivial, without con
sulting my friends as to its expediency.—
And rather than 1 displease ally of them I
would abandon it altogether. • What
profession shall I choose 'l' I asked them,
after the abrubt termination of scholastic
career. ' Study medicine,' said one.—
. The law!' said another. Divinity r said
my maiden aunt. Civil engineering,'
said Frank Dubrawl. Come into my
counting,-room, and learn to be a mer
chant,' said an uncle of mine of the old
school. It appeared to me, that the only
possible mode of avoiding giving offence
to all my advisers, Was to take the advice
of no one in particular, but to remain as
was, and du nothing. Accordingly I devo
ted myself to that agreeable vocation. One
summer-day I fell in love. The fair
object was the daughter of a hotel-keeper,
who had the reputation of having acquired
a large fortune by gambling. I never
thought to inquire who or what he was.—
He had the appearance and manners of a
gentleman ; and his daughter— sweet Em
ily Bertrand ! I cannot mention thy name
even at this late day, withwit a choking
sensation its my throat, as if my heart
would follow it I Pshaw ! Sink senti
meat!".
" Ay, sink sentiment ! and on with your
! 1 ani afraid it is pin: to he a long
one," said I, beginning to fathom some of
the peculiarities of my new friend's
character.
He looked at me with an expression of t
momentary surprise, and then replied :
You object to sentiment, do you 7 My
story cannot be told without it, i.nd so 1
will proceed. We met first at Trenton
Falls--Emily and 1. She was proceeding
along the narrow shelf of the parapet that
towers high above the tumbling stream.—
I was coming towards them from the op• '
posite direction. On turning an angle in
the rocky wall the shelf became so narrow,
and the abyss beneath so formidable, that
Emily grew suddenly giddy and •turned
pale. . 1 ant fainting falling:' site ex.
claimed. Her father was some rods be
hind her. The shelf on which she stood
was so narrow, and the walls above over..
hung it so closely, that it was impossible
for two persons, who accidently met, to
pass each other, without the utmost dan
er. There seemed nu hope for the young
lady, and the hazard of attempting to res'
cue her was most imminent. I did nut
stop, however, to consider chances.---
Grasping with one hand a rough knob of
rock, that protruded from the side of the
perpendicular precipice, I threw my dis
engaged arm around her, and received her
as she was With neat difficulty
1 bore her back along the flinty parapet to
a wide platform, produced by a seniicirs
raise sweep in the rocky buttress, that
fonts the titantic bank of the cascades.—
A handful of water front the river quickly
revived her. We were soon joined by
her father, who, in the ecstacy of his grat
itude for her deliverance, actually kissed
my hands. I guided them home to the
hotel through a vslley in the precipitous
line of rock, which was a more secure if a
less picturesque road than that whirls they
had trodden. This incident mutually
enough led to a further acquaintance.—
They were to tarry a week longer at the
Falls, and I soon made up my mind to re
main also. I have always looked back •
upon that week as the happiest of my life.
It was touching to obseve the relation that
existed between the father and the daugh
ter. He, a thorough man of the word,
addicted to horse-racing and gambling,
appeared to undergo in her presence a
thorough transformation, and to regard
her as a superior being--a saint, whose in
tercession would plead for kills trumpets
tongued before Heaven's tribunal. Nev
er did a harsh or profane word escape him
while she was by. It was as if there was
an atmosphere of purity about her, in
which no sullying of thought cou:d exist.
Iler beauty was of the most decided and
faultless kind. Every feature and every
limb seemed perfectly in harmony with
the symmetrical character of her intellec
tual faculties, and the sweetness, truth,
and translucency el her mm'. All the
memo; of education that tuuney Luuld su.p.
1843
ply had been afforded her, and nobly had
she availed herself of them. It had never
been my lot to meet with accomplishments
so rare, and an intelligence so extensive
united to so much simplicity of manner.—
The secret was to be found, perhaps, in
the fact, that in consequence of her lath
er's questionable position, she had seen
hardly any thing of society; and yet with
what machless grace and dignity did she
demean herself m every station I flow
poor and paltry seemed the conventional
ities of fashion and art, compared with the
unstudied felicities of her own truthful
nature! Our rambles in the neighboring
groves of pines, our fishing parties, our
little concerts, at which Emily sang as if
the soul of Malibran had entered her
frame, are among the etceteras, which
your imagination must supply, At the
end of the week, I was so far enamored,
that I accompanied the Bertrands to the •
city. IVhat a tempest was raised about l
my ears when it was discovered by my ,
kind friends and relatives, that I was in
danger of involving myself in a serious
love athiir with the daughterof a man like
Bertrand!"
" Surely you dill not allow their oppo
sition to influence you in the concerns of
the heartl"
" How could I endure the thought of
displeasing so many dear and distoteres
ted friends? I did not absolutely surs.
render all hope of winning Emily's love, •
but I consented to refrain from popping!
the question until I had visited Europe,
and seen a little Parisian society. I took
leave of her with much emotion. Her
little hand quivered tremulously in 'nine
as I bade her farewell. But my officious
friends ()tiered me no opportunity of lin
gering. One of them engaged my passage,
and another saw my baggag e shipped. I
crossed the Atlantic—passed a week or
two in London—hurried to Paris, and
then to escape from my own discontent,
dashed into Italy. But every step, it oc
curred to me, ' How doubly charming
would all this be, if she were only with
me!' I have often heard her discourse
with enthusiasm of Icily, and of the de
light she anticipated in one day visiting
UM land of romance. She spoke the lan
guage tioently—which I did not. Her
temper was like the clime itself—bland,
sunny and clear. Will should I ramble
in selfish solitute, when I hail the means
of secu rip.. '
such a companion I sudden- )
ly 'brined a determination—hastened to
Leghorn—and took passage in merchant'
vessel for New York. My aunt seemed •
to divine the motive of my speedy return ;
for almost the first words she greeted me
with were: Well, your famous beauty,
the hotel-keeper's daughter, is married.'
Indeed!' said I, turning pale. 0, yea.
Married to a captain of one of the Liver
pool packets—a very proper match for
her!' I withdrew to my room, sick at
heart. My other friends conformed my
aunt's statement, and, quite indifferent
to my fate, I allowed them to cut and
carve for me as they pleased. They were
nut long in finding me a wife. She be
longed,-they [informed me, to one of the
oldest families in the city, and her father
was quite wealthy. As for her person it
was unexceptionable. For some time I
repudiated the idea of marriage. But
when they at length, as a (termer resort,
told me that the young lady was despit
' rately in love with me—positively pining
through my neglect— my base-spirited
good nature—my old propensity to please
everybody—got the better et my discres,
thin. She became toy wile. Fur a year
or two we lived harmoniously enough ; but
her unconscionable extravagances mou
sed my serious resistance. Her father's
disreputable failure in business seemed to
produce no abet upon her spendthrift .
habits. By following the advice of my
dear friends, I had mana.ed to sink two
thirds of my property its ba d i speculations.
I resolved upon an immediate reduction
of my expenses—sold my house and furs
niture—and moved into humble private
lodgings. The next day my wife lctt in
the steam-packet lor Charleston, in com
pany with my old friend, Frank Dubrawl."
6' Pleasant I"
" Very. But the consequence was I
somewhat tragical. The seam-packet
was wrecked, and the fugitives were
among the lost. My character now began
to undergo that change, one of the mini
lestations resulting Iron winch you saw
exhibited by ine this evening in my obsti
nate defiance of public opinion. So far
(loin being seduously anxious to please
everybody, I don't care a brass farthing
fur what this MR or that chooses to say
of me ; and I make it a point to adopt the
course that is precisely opposite to that
which my advisers recommend. My good
uncle besought ►ne not to invest the rem
nant of my property in certain ' tancy
stocks.' I immediately invested every ce►it
in them. They rose lifty—a hundred—
two hundred per cent. My uncle advised
me to hold on. I instantly sold out, there
by securing to mysella handsome fortune,
and escaping absolute ruin—for the stocks
went do,vu to nothing. I au► rather bra•
[WitoLE No. 383.
tilled than otherwise when I hear of joy
being soundly abused; but, what is tel . ) ,
extraordinary, now that I am sincerely in
dilferent to praise or dispraise of any loan
or woman, or body of inen or women, I
inn much better spoken of, and my com
pany is much more sought alter, than when
I was constantly on the qui vice to CUll
cilhate the good opinion of all I met."
"That is very natural," returned I.—
"Some philosopher remarks, that we
ought not to be too anxious about the good
opinion of others ; for, in proportion to our
anxiety, it will, out ut mere perverseness,
be denied to us. And yet, Bit Johnson
says:
Content of fame begets contempt of
virtu e.' ,&
" Out upon the virtue," exclaimed my
companion, " which looks to any respect
but self-respect for its reward ! Nu, my
young friend. The man is an ass, who
does not fearlessly act out himself without
regard to the favorable opinion of ' all the
world, and his wite,' as the French say.--
NV hat author ever wrote a great thing,
who wrote with a fear of critics before his
eyes', Suppose that the Edinburg Review
had existed in the time of Shakspeare, and
that the bard of Avon had given heed to
its lawyer-like adducements of pool's, that
he was full of faults that he and anachron
isms, would he have been Shakspeare aoy
longer, think you
" You must have spent the last few
years abroad '!" asked I, unwilling to pro
tract the discussion, as the hour was late.
" Yuu are right. But I see that you
are getting sleepy, and though it is against
my principles, I will let you Mt"
Slre bade each other good-night, Seve
ral years had elapsed, and I had lost nearly
' all recollections of " the man 1 had met at
the play." But not long since, in looking
for a friend's town at the Astor House, L
accidently opened the door of the wrong
apartment. A gentleman and a lady were
at the window, and in the arms of the lat
ter, who was surpassingly lovely, was a
beautiful child. Apologizing for my mis
take, I was hastily retiring, when a glance
of recognition on the part of the gentle
man detained me. In another moment I
became aware that the hero of the opera
glass stood before me. We interchanged
greetings, and he introduced me to his
wife—lus " Emily," as he called her. I
at once remembered her name and the
story of his life.
" - You shall hear the denouement," said
he, " it you will stun and take dinner
with us."
assented ; and the sequel run thus:—
The story which my friend's kind rela
tives had told him of Emily's marriage, prc.
veil to be a fiction. Thiough an extraor.
Binary run of ill lock, her father had been
reduced hunt affluence to penury. 111
health was added to his other misfortunes;
and for many month 3, she supported hint
by copying music fur one of the theaters.
At a moment, when their privations had
become most critical, by ore of those co
incidences, which occur oftener in real
life than careless observers suppose, their
companion of Trenton Falls encountered
Emily— learned from her the circumstan
ces that had transpired since their last
meeting—and accompanied her to the
humble where her father lay upon
his death-bed. The last moments of the
invalid were serene and even cheerful ;
for over him were bent the faces of his
daughter and her affianced lover, and it
seemed to be his faith, that the interces
sion of the former would make his future
lota happy one.
. .
Aiwa half a year alter Bertrand's de
cease, Emily was united to the friend,
who had so opportunely come to her assis..
tance on more than one occasion. They
removed to a beautiful country seat not
many miles from the city ; and here " the
man I met at the play," though still quite
Indifirent to the good or evil report of the
world, finds that true happiness is to
be found not in pleasing everybody,
(which the prevers'eness of men will nut
allow even the Creator to do,) but in first
pleasing one's self in the choice of a wife,
and in then being content with pleasing
one's conscience and her.
And what better moral do you aek to a
story, fair lady, than this ?
I say, you darkie," said a tall Ken
tuckian to a negro who was taking an awful
big horn at the bar of a western swam
boat---" I say, you dat kie, do you belong
to the Temperance Society." " No mass,
belongs to Misses Hall," was the reply.
A Western editor says :—A gentleman
the other day, on asking a market man the
price of Immured, " Eggs are eggs
now." "~1 am glad to hear it with all my
heart ; fur the last 1 bought of you weal
half thickens."
It is said that however well young la
dies may be versed in gran finer, very lew
of them can DECLINE matrimony.
The last abstraction is the boiling ti
pi lOLtal to Olatitaillttlit 011.