SONNET. Oh, what a world of breathing love there lies Like clouds that tint the summer's gorgeous skies! Of mind-outflashes through their lashes dark! (Like one who on the powerful Lord of day Ventures presumptuous glance) their dazzling light Would strike the gazer blind! why are thine eyes so bright? 12000 ROTTERDAM. ROTTERDAM, a city of the Netherlands, province of South Holland, on the right bank of the Meuse, which is here above a mile in width, twenty miles from its mouth, and twelve miles south-east of the Hague. It is the second city in the Dutch provinces for commerce and wealth. Its form is triangular, its longest side (above a mile-and-a-half in extent) stretching along the bank of the Meuse. The town is surrounded by a moat, and entered by six gates towards the land, and four towards the water. It is traversed by the Rotte, a broad canal, which here joins the Meuse. Rotterdam is intersected, even more than other towns in Holland, by canals, which divide the half of the town, near the river, into several insulated spots, connected by drawbridges. These canals are almost all bordered by trees. The houses are rather convenient than elegant, their height is of four, five or six stories. Of the public buildings, the principal are the Exchange, finished in 1736, and the great church of St. Lawrence, from the top of which, there is a most extensive prospect. After these, come several other churches, the town-house, (an old edifice,) the admiralty, the academy, the theatre, and the extensive buildings of the East India Company. Rotterdam has an active transit trade; the manufactures are not extensive; sugar refineries and distilleries furnish the chief articles of industry. There are several learned societies. It is the birthplace of the celebrated ErasRotterdam received the title and privileges of a city in 1270. Its commerce suffered severely from the French Revolution; and, in 1825, an inundation of the Meuse did great damage to the city. mus. 196 THE NON-DESCRIPT SOMETHING, &c. FROM THE ELBOW CHAIR OF A BACHELOR. BY THEODORE CRIMP. "If you look for a good speech now, you undo me; for what I have to say is of mine own making; and what, indeed, I should say, will, I doubt prove my own mariing."-King Henry IV. A MORE naturally accommodating and agreeable fellow than myself does not draw the breath of life, nor one less selfish, less fastidious. The incredulous world will not believe it. Acknowledged, I grant no favours, exercise no civilities, am not genteel, courteous, or moral; a little inclined to the sensitive or fractious. An indescribable and shapeless something prevents me from doing or being otherwise. Confound that non-descript I something, wish I could get rid of it. It withholds me from lending books or money; from addressing any one in a civil manner; from attending to the cleanliness or decoration of my person; from going to church on Sunday. It withholds me finally from exercising those peculiarly amiable qualities with which I am convinced nature has stocked me. Hence does a man tread upon my toe, apologies and regrets to the contrary notwithstanding, my fist invariably becomes familiar with the member denominated his nose, and five to one, he measures his length on mother earth. Though by nature amiable, I have no friends; strange as it may seem to the reader, strange as it seems to myself. Have men no reason? Will they not be assured that I would be different if I could? Alas, I repeat, I have no friends. Do I meet an old schoolfellow, he invariably observes some very interesting and all-absorbing object across the street, or has quite forgotten my features-he cuts me dead. Still am I amiable, still am I of a friendly inclination, and still am I not otherwise than honourably disposed. "But, hold my pen! a truce to praising." I abhor self-adulation. It denotes a paucity of brains. But when one chances to speak of one's faultless self, what must be done. Shall one perpetrate a lie, and make one'sself doubly hateful to mankind and God? No, no, no. There is only one creature in existence of similar disposi tions and feelings with myself. Twice a year he pays me a visit, from habit altogether. We were schoolfellows, and exchanged as such the mcst powerful sympathy. Let it be understood, we are not friends, simply acquaintances; we were shunned by the whole school; verily, loathed imps of darkness are not more so, by christians. Grim is my semi-annual visitor's name. Not Peter, nor Jeremiah, nor Ezekiel, but Obadiah Grim. We often discuss the world; its pleasures and its pangs, its virtues and its vices. "Why is it," said Obadiah, in the course of his last visit, "that we are troubled so little with friends in this world? Other men say 'my friend Greene,' 'my friend Thompson:" I never could say my friend anybody, not even yourself could I possibly denominate friend." "We are abundantly agreeable, and abundantly amiable by nature, Grim," returned I; "but we are influenced by a nondescript something which repels mankind, and which prevents us from exercising these natural charms." 46 "I do not regret this," said Mr. Obadiah Grim, we are peculiarly blessed; acquaintance, friends, benefit one in no respect. This non-descript something saves us innumerable vexations and mortification and disappointments. We are not losers in a pecuniary point of view; we are never solicited for loans of small sums nor large sums; friends borrow of friends; and it is against the laws of friendly intercourse to refund. Another we escape-the loss of credit. One loses credit because one loses the wherewithal to maintain the same. Four or five hundred dollars loaned, never to be refunded, otherwise given, would materially affect our incomes. Tradesmen would be obliged to send twice, nay thrice for a settlement of their accounts. Cash thereafter is insisted upon; then your friend often betrays your confidence and exposes you to ridicule; hence vexations and mortifications and disappointments. He is envious, perhaps, of your talents, your person, and your popularity." Thus speaking, Grim raised his eyes and hands, and blessed the "non-descript something;" then taking his hat and stick bade me a hurried "good night," fearing, probably, that a longer stay might perchance force us to denominate one another friends." FASHIONABLE MEN. "I HAD rather be a kitten and cry mew," than purely a man of fashion, a creature of bows and obeisances, one who smiles MARCH, 1843. T upon all, and assents to every opinion, no matter how absurd. There are many such men. The sight of them makes me giddy; it produces a disagreeable Point Judith propensity, which shall be nameless. Still they are your men of spirit and character, par excellence; they are the heroes upon whom the nation's honour depends; they are the brave boys who smile upon the dear girls in the evening; who order pistols for two, and coffee for one on the morning following; and who consent to a reconciliation ere the ground is measured. No woman but favours them with "sweet laughing looks;" yet no woman would be led by any one of them to the altar of Hymen. A fashionable, merely fashionable man, is no more nor less than a mere tool-edge or otherwise, as may be necessary. He may be employed to chop, to smooth, or to batter, as the ladies please; and would not for the world refuse to comply with their sovereign pleasure. LOVE. MUCH is sung and said about a certain subduing passion, denominated love. Poets speak of its inspiration, and describe, in soft glowing numbers, its peculiarly tender qualities. Byron, after having told us about a great many sweet things, in his inimitable poem of Don Juan, says— "But sweeter still than this, than thee, than all Is first and passionate love. It stands alone, Like Adam's recollection of his fall; The tree of knowledge has been plucked-all's known, Fire which Prometheus filched for us, from heav'n." Absurd! although from the pen of so pre-eminent and popular a poet! All men, however, have their crazy moments; so might have had Lord Byron. Love never existed on the face of this globe! It is purely a creature of the clouds and paradise. Adam doubtless experienced the most exquisite emotions of love. But these emotions "departed never to return," when Eve drove him from Paradise. I now conclude, feeling amply assured that the present production is too much influenced by the "non-descript something," to meet with any other than its master's fate. |