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His wife would often say to him, “my dear,
* You shock me sadly, when you thus blaspheme;
Your oaths uncouth it vexes me to hear,
So horrid and unnatural they seem.
" I've often stories heard, which true I deem,

Of people stricken dead, for talking so;
* Besides, it's vulgar, Michael Hildesheim,
"To use such wretched language as you do,
And I'll no more endureit, sir, I would have you know.'
The parish priest would oft her words enforce,
Prescribing penance, and pronouncing doom,
When Michael interlarded his discourse,
With flowers of rhetoric of novel bloom.
Here to transplant them all, I have no room;
Suffice to say, then, that in torturing speech
To phrases strange, his time he would consume;

Talking as if the devil had come to preach,
Until the power of words no farther length could reach.

Like Shakspeare in Sam Johnson's prologue, he
Exhausted language, and invented new,
Beyond the compass of orthography,
And making etymology look blue;
While shuddering syntax pale with terror grew,
With chattering teeth and dislocated frame:
And oh! what then can charming prosody do?

When the nine muses' eighteen feet were lame,
To make them hobble for a wager, would be a grievous shame.
And oh! he cried, if fate would but restore
My first, my beautiful, my only love!
I'll never speak irreverently more,
I vow by all the holy saints above !
* Luxuriant fancy shall no longer rove,
In quest of execrations, through our lingo;

So Michael's oaths imagine if you please :
They have supplied the navy; and you may,
When the loud tempests vex the chafing seas,
Hear volleys of them, answering, every day,
The angry thunder bellowing away.
Some years had past since Michael had been wed,
And offspring yet had none; which, as they say,
His spleen with food for much irreverence fed,
'Till now his wife announced she should be brought to bed.

Right glad was Michael when he heard the same;
Great were the preparations that took place;
What crowds of doctors and old ladies came
To give their sentiments upon the case!
The muse may not her solemn verse abase,
Singing of caudle, cradles, caps and nurses ;
Alas! her tears the record would efface !

Mother and child both died! and stifling curses
The husband to the grave walked after both their bearses !

* Dead! dead ! my Laura and my baby both!
Gone! gone! my money, lands and houses fine!!
Quoth Michael ; but he spake without an oath ;
For he was sitting in the pale moonshine,
Above the family vault; and tears of brine
Bedewed the sod that wrapt his wife and child :-
He thought that terribly bad wrath divine

Fallen on him, for his speech profane and wild,
And that his punishment ought to have been more mild..

Though every cause my soul to anger move, Though I am hot with passion and with stingo, " I'll curse and swear no more, by the eternal Jingo!

He spake, and looking upwards, saw a sight, Which made him feel particularly queer; His Laura stood before him all in white, As she was borne upon her funeral bier. She stretched her hand to him, and said, my dear, • The fates restore me to your arms again; · Alive, in flesh and blood, you see me here; * Your prayer is granted, while you shall refrain . From taking sacred names and holy words in vain.

* But mark me, Michael, if you ever make
• Use of bad language, I'll be off at once
« Oh ! cried the husband, may the devil take
Me hence, if ever I am such a dunce !
I'll quarantine my organs for the nonce,
And every rising naughty word rebuke:
• But ah me! by Diana's silver sconce;

• I fear me, on a phantom vague I look,
. And that I but behold a spectre and a spook.'

He took the lily hand she proffered him,
And it was warm and soft; and from her eye
Shone forth its mildly pensive, natural beam;
Her lips were pouting with their coral dye,
And Michael touched their vermeil rim to try
If they were good to kiss, and found they were ;
He pressed her to his bosom with a cry
Of transport, and exclaimed, thou art my fair
Lost wife; thou art no matter of moonshine or of air.'
She took his arm, and they walked home together,
Well pleased that thus the business had turned out;
A year passed on. I cannot answer whether
Michael could well have kept his word, without
His fancy had devised a round about
Mode of anathema, which he, at first,
A little inconvenient found, no doubt,

By figure and analogy he curst,
But never swore outright, tho' he was like to bursť.

He swore by George, by Jingo, and by Gemini,
By Goles, by Goom, and great Jehosophat;
By Christopher Columbus and by Crimini,
By Gog and Magog, and the like of that;
Also the Holy Poker came quite pat,
Odsbobs, odzooks, odsniggers and morbleu ;
With each strange phrase invention could create;

Such as these-rot my picture, darn my shoe,
Dash my wig, dang my buttons, and others not a few.

'Twas during this probation he invented
All the droll slang that's been in usage since ;
By people who with it must be contented,
And at a great round oath will frown and wince.
Thus pretty ladies words profane will mince;
'Tis thus that quaker captains scold their crew ;
Within these bounds his tongue a parson stints ;

The Yankees patronize this dialect too,
A perfect connoisseur in which soon Michael grew.

At length his wife again became enceinte,
Whereat his joy was boundless; but what pen
The unfortunate lover's agony can paint,
When a sad accident occurred again.
They broug: 't him word the babe was dead-and then,
Forgetful of his promise, he let fly
A cataract of oaths and words unclean,

Which made the nurse soon quit his company,
And to her lady's room in shuddering terror hie.

But pale and speechless, she came staggering back ;
For Laura and the baby both had fled,
Having vanished thence, with a tremendous crack,
That sbook the house, as the attendants said,
Who on the floor lay moveless and half dead.
Ere Michael heard the tale, his conscience gave
Of what had come to pass forebodings dread,

And when the news was brought, he did not rave,
But silently recalled his promise at the grave.

For good and all, his wife this time had flown,
And never more her vision crost his sight;
Her heirs came soon, demanding as their own,
Her balls and manors, as their legal right;
And sent her spouse, blaspheming on his flight,
From out the land; for now the voice of fame
Denounced him as a sorcerer of great might;

The people shrank from him, where'er he came,
And frightened naughty boys, all over, with his name.

At length the Pope, of Michael's talent rare
For malediction, heard; and wanting much
To

compose a Bull, that should his subjects scare,
Sent for the Wanderer, to invent him such,
Consigning sinners into Satan's clutch.
He found him at the business very handy,
And into Latin having put his Dutch,

Declared the thing to be the very dandy; 'Tis the same Bull which you may read in Tristram Shandy.

But curses, saith the sage, are like young fowls,
That homeward come to roost. So Michael found;
The curses he devised for other souls,
Fell on his own with terrible rebound.
For the Pope swore, that on no Christian ground
So blasphemous a wretch was fit to dwell;
Over bis head made his own thunder sound,

Consigning bim with his own Bull to hell,
And banishing him forever, with candle, book and bell.

So like the Bull Piryllus built of yore,
Wherein king Phalaris the workman placed,
That he might be the first to make it roar,
Was Michael by his own invention chased.
His wanderings, thereafter, are not traced,
But it is certain, a dog's life he led ;
Proscribed and miserable and disgraced,

In all strange holes he begged his daily bread,
'Till on a dungbill stretched, one day they found him dead.

P.

LECTURES OF CHANCELLOR KENT.

It has long been the wish of the respectable members of our bar, that some steps should be taken, by which the character of the profession might be improved, and the advocates of justice be made as pure as justice herself. To accomplish this object, various plans have been suggested, meetings have been held, and sundry projects discussed; but nothing has ever been accomplished. Its members have been suffered to proceed in their own way, some considering the profession merely as a means of acquiring wealth, some pursuing it from a sort of desperation, some as ornamental, and some, the chosen few, as the great means of rendering themselves useful to the public, without much regard to their own pecuniary prospects, or to the rank or standing it might give them in society. Deprived of those advantages, which might be derived from the brotherly feelings which are cherished by bar societies, and the associations which seem to belong to this, more than to any other profession, and having all the evils which arise from the insular situation in which every lawyer is placed, towards his fellow members, it is still somewhat consoling to reflect, that a better day may succeed us, and that those who are to supply the places we fill, may correct the evils which arise from our negligence or our fault.

Industry, well applied, with the advantages which modern books give to the student of the present day, purity of heart, and a prudent use of the advantages which belong to our local situation, are all that is wanting to make any man a respectable member of a profession, somewhat lucrative, and always, when well followed, respectable. The ordinary means of information do not require to be enlarged upon. They are to be found in the treatises upon the subject, and in occasional passages of some of the

sages

of the law. It is sufficient to call the attention of the young to subjects beyond these, and immediately

within our reach. Of the means to elevate professional character, we know of none of a higher nature, than the contemplation of the distinguished men who have filled or now fill its higher walks. Who is there, of a generous and liberal spirit, who can view the great men who have preceded him in his career, without feeling a generous emulation awakened in his heart? Take, for instance, the late Mr. Wells, who almost irresistibly arrests the attention, when we think of men that the mind delights to dwell upon. With the purity of his moral deportment were blended a grace and propriety in his exterior, which would have commanded respect in an ordinary man; but which were, in him, mere ornaments, to give a higher finish to his character, a greater relish to his arguments, and more power to his eloquence; and made more endurable to the view of others the brilliancy of his transcendant genius. It is difficult to form an idea of a man more entitled to command respect and love and admiration, or more worthy to be adopted as a model, by those whose aspirations lead them to excel in professional usefulness, and to add new charms to the virtues of private life.

We should be tempted to pass an eulogy upon the character of Chancellor Kent; but propriety forbids it. He, however, has found another mode, beside the influence of his character and example, to render himself useful to the profession; and, in the place he now fills, he will perhaps do more to reform the errors of our Bar, and to raise up young men fit to ornament the profession, than could be effected by any plan, likely to be adopted by its members. It is, therefore, a matter of general congratulation, with all those who wish to see the science of law what it ought to be, that he should have accepted the professorship, for many years vacant, in Columbia College. It is now about twenty-five years, since that professorship was established. Mr. Kent, then a young man, was at that time called to the chair. His avocations, however, prevented his long continuance in its duty, and his subsequent elevation to the bench, and ultimately to the office of chancellor, led him away, for a long series of years, from this his distinguished early undertaking. Now that he has arrived at the age, when, according to the constitution, he is disqualified for holding a judicial office, and has retired to private life, amid the regrets of the bar and of the public, he has renewed with all the vigour and energy of a young man, the pursuits of his youth; and has left the highest appointment in the state, and set himself with an honourable ambition, to instruct the young and to lead them through the paths of that science which, without an intelligent

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