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VOICE OF A BROOK.

OH! come to me here in this silent glen,
Far away, away from the haunts of men,
Where the wild flower blooms with beautiful hue,
And unfolds its leaves to the silver dew,
Where the robin at morn and evening sings,
And sports on my bank with his glossy wings,
Where the swallows fly low and gently skim,
Dimpling my cheek, till the day is dim,
And the moon walks up to her throne of light,
Mid stars, bright gems, on the brow of night.

Oh! come at morn, when the blossoming trees
Receive the first light and the virgin breeze,
And their boughs, bending low, reveal the blue
With sparkles of gold, as the sun gleams through,
When rosy and pure is the sky above,

And the light torn feather doth scarcely move
From the branch, where the goldfinch trims his breast,
And calls to his mate from her hanging nest,
Where the yellow-bird sings from his willow tree
And the oriole flashes so goldenly.

Oh! come!-oh! come! I will lead thee away,
Where far with their baskets the anglers stray,
And bend o'er my banks for the wily trout,
As, scared from the brink, he is darting about,
Or with speckled skin on the grass is seen
To pant for his home in my waters green.
Oh! come to me now, ere the hum of men
Hath broke on the ear of this peaceful glen.

Oh! come to me here in the burning noon,
I will sing thee a sweet and soothing tune,
When the air abroad is quivering quick,
When the pulse beats fast and the heart is sick,
And the weary frame, in the heat of day,
Would inhale new life in the shade, away.
Here's a grassy seat! oh! come with a book,
Or bring thee a reed with a baited hook,

Or the sweet summer wind, if thou choose to sleep,
Like a spirit of love, to thy cheek shall creep,
While the leaves of many a branching tree
Will shield thee from heat, refreshingly.
The elm, with its lofty and waving arms,
The white leaning birch, with its leafy charms,
The graceful maple, with feathery skin,
Here weave a cool bower, and woo thee within,
And their boughs that above spread their arms of
Are mirrored below in my sparkling sheen.
Oh! come to me now! there's song in the trees,
To gladden thy heart, and thine ear to please.

green,

Oh! come to me here, when the moonlight gleams
O'er valley and hill, and o'er dancing streams,
When the stars mount up with a fervent glow,
And fresh is the moon-shiny air below,

When the robin hath sung his evening song,
And my waters in music dance along,

And glance on thine eye their swimming light,
Now dim and pale, now glowingly bright.

Oh! come to me then! I will breathe in thine ear
A strain that thy soul shall delight to hear,
That shall teach thee to Heaven a hymn to raise,
And open thy lips in eloquent praise.

J. H. W.

SELECTIONS FROM THE PAPERS OF AN IDLER.

NO. II.

THOUGHTS ON POLITENESS.

THE common notion about politeness is, that it is a thing of the body and not of the mind, and that he is a polite man who makes certain motions in a graceful manner and at proper times and places. We expect the dancing master to teach our children "manners" as well as the art of cutting awkward capers to music, and we pay him on the same compound principle, by which the sage McGrawler was compensated, for his instructions to Paul Clifford," two bobs for the Latin, and a sice for the vartue." But the truth is, that we degrade politeness by making it any thing less than a cardinal virtue. The happiness of life is made up of an infinite number of little things and not of startling events and great emotions; and he who daily and hourly diffuses pleasure around him by kind offices, frank salutations and cheerful looks, deserves as well of his species, as he, who, neglecting or despising all these, makes up for it by occasional acts of generosity, justice or benevolence. Besides, the opportunity of doing great things, but rarely occurs, while a man has some dozens of chances, every day of his life, to show whether he be polite or not. The value of a thing, too, is great in proportion to its rarity, and true politeness is a very rare thing, gentle reader, stare though you may. I have seen many graceful men, many agreeable, many who were even fascinating, but very few who were polite, as the word is defined in my dictionary. Sometimes there is a deficiency in certain things, sometimes the quality extends to a certain point, after which you enter into that " kingdom of me," spoken of in one of Dryden's plays, and a large kingdom it is too. Sometimes there is a fault of omission and sometimes of commission; so that, on the whole, the quality is about as rare as greatness, and, indeed, they have many ingredients in common. A truly polite man must, in the first place, have the gift of good sense, for without that foundation, it is idle to think of rearing any, even the smallest superstructure. He must know when to violate that code of conventional forms, which common consent has established, and when not to; for it is equally a mark of weakness to be a slave to these forms or to despise them. He must have penetration and tact enough to adapt his conversation and manner to circumstances and individuals; for that which is politeness in the drawing-room, may be downright rudeness in the bar-room or the stagecoach, as well as the converse. Above all, he must have that enlarged and catholic spirit of humility, which is the child of self-knowledge, and the parent of benevolence, (indeed, politeness itself is merely benevolence, seen through the little end of a spy-glass) which, not content with bowing low to this rich man or that fine lady, respects the rights and does justice to the claims of every member of the great human family. As for the fastidious and exclusive persons, who look down upon a man created and upheld by the same power as themselves and heir to the same immortal destinies, because he does not dress in a particular style or visit in certain houses, they are out of the question. If they are too weak to perceive the grotesque absurdity of their

own conduct, they have not capacity enough to master the alphabet of good manners. If angelic natures be susceptible of ludicrous emotions, we know of nothing more likely to call them forth, than the sight of an insect inhabitant of this great ant-hill, assuming airs of superiority over his brother emmet, because he has a few more grains of barley in his granary, or some other equally cogent reason.

Of the gentlemen, young and old, whiskered and unwhiskered, that may be seen in Washington-street, any sunshiny day, there is not one who does not think himself a polite man, and who would not very much resent any insinuation to the contrary. Their opinion is grounded on reasons something like the following. When they go to a party, they make a low bow to the mistress of the house, and then look round after somebody that is young and pretty to make themselves agreeable to. At a ball, they will do their utmost to entertain their partner, unless the fates have given them to some one who is ugly and awkward, and they will listen to her remarks with their most bland expression. If they are invited to a dinner-party, they go in their best coats, praise their entertainer's wine, and tell the lady they hope her children are all well. If they tread on the toes of a well dressed person, they will beg his pardon. They never spit on a carpet, and in walking with a lady they always give her the inside; and, if the practice be allowable, they offer her their arm. So far, very good; but I must always see a man in certain situations, before I decide whether he be polite or no. I should like to see how he would act, if placed at dinner between an ancient maiden lady and a country clergyman with a small salary and a rusty coat, and with some distinguished person opposite to him. I want to sse him on a hot and dusty day, sitting on the back seat of a stagecoach, when the driver takes in some poor lone woman, with may-be a child in her arms, and tells the gentlemen that one of them must ride outside and make room for her. I want to be near him when his washerwoman makes some very good excuse to him for not bringing home his clothes at the usual time, or not doing up an article in exactly the style he wished. I want to hear the tone and emphasis with which he gives orders to servants in steamboats and taverns. I mark his conduct, when he is walking with an umbrella on a rainy day, and overtakes an old man, or an invalid, or a decent looking woman, who are exposed without protection, to the violence of the storm. If he be in company with those whom he thinks his inferiors, I listen to hear if his conversation be entirely about himself. If some of the number be very distinguished, and some quite unknown, I observe whether he acts as if he were utterly unconscious of the presence of these last. These are a few and but a few, of the tests by which I try a man, and I am sorry to say there are very few who can stand them all. There is many a one who passes in the world for a very well-bred man, because he knows when to bow and smile, that is down in my tablets for a selfish, vulgar, unpolite monster, that loves the parings of his own nails better than his neighbor's whole body. Put any man in a situation where he is called upon to make a sacrifice of his own comfort and ease, without any equivalent in return, and you will learn the difference between true politeness, that sterling ore of the heart, and the counterfeit imitation of it which passes current in drawing-rooms.

Any man must be an idiot not to be polite in society, so called, for how else would he get his oysters and Champagne?

Politeness is a national as well as an individual characteristic, and it would be a curious subject of speculation to inquire what degree of cultivation and refinement is most favorable to it, for the extremes both of civilization and savageness do not seem to be propitious. I am inclined to think the Greeks were a more polite people than any of modern times, when we take into consideration the advantage we have in the greater respect which women now both deserve and receive, and the favorable influence exerted upon our manners in consequence. There is something extremely touching in the respect they paid to old age. If I were inclined to display a little learning, I might illustrate my position, by examples drawn from their history; but there are many that every school-boy is familiar with, and they need not be repeated here for the ten thousandth time. The Jews were a polite people, and the Old Testament (with reverence I say it) contains many striking instances of it. Indeed, it is a striking peculiarity of the Scriptures, that all the graces and embellishments of life may be learned from them, as well as its most solemn duties and highest obligations, and that they contain every thing requisite to form a perfect man. How delicate and feeling is the conduct of Jacob, at his first meeting with Rachel, at the well of Haran, and how unlike what would be expected in our refined times. The self-denial of David, recorded in the eleventh chapter of the first book of Chronicles, in refusing to drink of the water which his "three mightiest" captains had procured with the peril of their lives, is an instance of politeness sublimed into magnanimity. And, to mention but one example more, how beautiful and touching is the behavior of the three friends of Job, who "sat down with him upon the ground, seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him, for they saw that his grief was very great."

We call ourselves a polite people, and, comparatively speaking, perhaps we are so. It is allowed, I believe, that Americans, both at home and abroad, are remarkably attentive to women, though Capt. Hall thinks otherwise. Still we commit some offences against good breeding. We have a bad trick of staring at strangers, as any one must have noticed, who has been in a country church when any one entered. And then we ask a great many idle and not a few impertinent questions. The habit we have of cutting and defacing every fixture that is penetrable to steel, is so universal and so abominable, that it deserves to be scourged out of us by a pestilence or a famine. The manners, too, of our common people towards each other, are marked by great roughness and an entire inattention to all the little courtesies of life. Perhaps we owe this to our English descent; for John Bull thinks that if a man is polite to him, he has a design upon his purse.

There are a great many little offences committed against good manners, which people are hardly aware of at the time. It is not polite, for instance, to tease a person to do what he has once declined, and it is equally impolite to refuse a request or an invitation in order to be urged, and accept afterwards. Comply at once; if your friend be sincere, you will gratify him; if not, you will punish him, as he deserves to be. It is not polite, when asked what part of a dish you will

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have, to say any part, it is quite indifferent to me;" it is hard enough to carve for one's friends, without choosing for them. It is not polite to entertain our visiters with our own family history, and the events of our own household. It is not polite for married ladies, to talk in the presence of gentlemen, of the difficulty they have in procuring domestics, and how good-for-nothing they are when they are procured. It is not polite to put food upon the plate of your guest, without asking his leave, nor to press him to eat more than he wants. It is not polite to stare under ladies' bonnets, as if you suspected they had stolen the linings from you. It is but let me remember it is not polite to be a bore, especially in print.

It does not seem to me that the world has gained much in politeness during the last two or three hundred years. It is all surplusage to the Utilitarian philosophy. There is a lofty and chivalrous spirit of courtesy that hangs over the age of Queen Elizabeth, like a rose-colored atmosphere. What a contrast there is between the warriors, the courtiers and the statesmen, the Sydneys, the Raleighs and the Essexes, of the court of the Virgin Queen, and the modern fine gentlemen, the disciples of Brummel, and the admirers of Pelham! It reminds us of the difference between our rectangular habits and round black beavers, and the silks, velvets and plumes, in which the gallants of those days were wont to ruffle. What a beautiful and touching instance of genuine politeness, is that well known anecdote recorded of Sir Philip Sydney, in the last moments of his life, and how few of the preux chevaliers of the nineteenth century are there, capable, I will not say, of imitating it, but even of admiring it as it ought to be admired. A sublime indifference to all sublunary things, except himself, seems to be the distinguishing characteristic of the fine gentleman, now-a-days. But perhaps the progress of society has had the same effect here as in other things; it has made the generality of men more polite, though there are not such splendid individual instances of the quality. But to come nearer home, our own generation does not seem to have the advantage, in this respect, of that which preceded it. I am an admirer of the old school of manners, as it is commonly called. I like the minute attentions, the uniform, though formal courtesy, and the mingled dignity and benevolence of manner which characterize it. The few specimens of it that are left among us, appear like Corinthian columns, to which time has lent a touching grace, independent of their intrinsic beauty. They connect us with an age, in which far more stress was laid upon dress and manner, and all external things, than now, to an age of wigs and knee-buckles, of flowered waistcoats and hooped petticoats, of low bows and stately courtesies; and I shall be sorry when they are all gone. Let no man imagine that his rank, or station, or talents, excuse him from an attention to those rules of good breeding, which cost nothing but a little care, and which make a great deal of difference in the sum total of human happiness. They are as imperative as the rules of morality, and there is no one, however great or high, that does not owe to society a liberal recompense for what he receives from it. There is now and then a man so weak as to affect to be rough, or forgetful, or absent, from a notion that his deficiencies in these little things will be ascribed to the largeness of the objects with which he is habitually conversant, and that his mind will be supposed unable to come down

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