they serve your end, of exciting abhorrence in the young mind, as well as if they were true. You know, the moral of a story in Esop is none the less wholesome for the story's being a fable.

If, therefore, Miss Flirt has coquetted with Mr. Dash; or Mr. Tipple, (being a member of the temperance society), mixes too much brandy with his wine; or Mr. Skinflint has overreached an honest neighbor in a bargain; or Mr. Thresher corrects his wife with a larger rod than the law allows; or Mrs. Rawhide is too severe towards her servants; or there be undovelike and unconjugal jars between Mr. and Mrs. Turtledove; or Mr. Afterday wears false hair; or Miss Tabitha Evergreen paints; or Mrs. Henpeck bears it with too high a hand over her dutiful and obedient spouse ;or if you, or any body else, suspect any of these things;--let your social circle ring with them. Turn them over, and examine them in every point of view. Discuss their probabilities, their causes, their effects, consequences, and incidents; their degrees of blameworthiness, and their likelihood of continuance. Conclude with a doubt whether, after all, strong and clear as the proof seems, the scandalous story is not false but protesting at the same time how much you are shocked if it is true; and lamenting the apparent force of the evidence.—I might sum up all my advice on this head, by bidding you copy the conversation of some ladies and gentlemen who met together at a pic-nic, in the time of Queen Anne, a hundred and twenty-five years ago; as mentioned by a certain poet of that day:

'In various talk the instructive hours they pass'd :
Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last;
One speaks the glory of the British queen,
And one describes a charming Indian screen;
A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
At every word, a reputation dies.

Snuff, and the fan, supply each pause of chat,
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.'

In talking upon debatable subjects, always bring on a dispute, or argument (as it is called), if you can. It is a great whetter of the wits; strengthens the lungs by exercise; and gives you the best opportunity for shewing off your learning, subtlety, and eloquence.

In disputing, or argument, there are several important rules; all growing out of one leading principlenamely, that 'the object of argument is not truth, but victory.' Make this maxim your polar star; and you will see the needfulness of the following rules.-Never concede any point to your adversary, if it will aid him in the least. Though half of what he says be selfevident, yet either deny it, or (if that exceeds all power of face) pass it by unnoticed, or treat it as if immaterial. Many people, by weakly yielding all points which they see to be against them, are defeated in half their disputes: whereas, by keeping possession of those points, they might at once enlarge their own foothold, and lessen that of their adversary--thus greatly increasing their chances of victory; as, in war, it is half the battle to get a stand in the enemy's camp.

Make long speeches: as long, as if you were in Congress. It answers four useful ends. It shews you off; improves your style; strengthens your lungs; and ensures the defeat of your adversary, by either

consuming all the time that he and you can spend together, or confounding him by the noisiness and number of the things you say, so that he cannot possibly remember what he has to answer. But if he wish to make speeches also, do not let him. Cry out against it, as a monstrous unfairness. Interrupt him, at every sentence.-Indeed, it is a capital manœuvre to interrupt him often, though he shew no wish to speechify. If he pauses at a period, or even at a semicolon, to take breath or to spit,-especially if he is modest, or has a weaker voice than yours,-cut in upon him without scruple. You may thus hinder him from unfolding half an idea; much less half his argument. He will be reduced to a mere interjection now and then, if not to an inglorious silence; and your victory will be no less complete than easy. By this means, you may vanquish one who otherwise would overmatch you entirely. It is the simple sling and stone, with which a stripling may conquer a Goliah in debate: or rather, it resembles a dexterity at cards, (much practised by certain itinerant, sporting gentlemen), by which a weakhanded player may win the game from one, whose hand is full of trumps.--Some old-maidish people maintain, that each speaker should be allowed a pause of half a minute, to consider what more he has to say. But the Shawanee Indians have that practice among them: and I presume, nobody would have us copy savages.

Of all subjects for disputation, you cannot fail to see that party politics is the best. Opinions are most apt to differ about it; and, owing to the opposite sides from which our newspapers accustom us to view every question, that difference is the most fixed and irreconcilable. Hence, disputants on that subject may stand justified, to themselves, in the most unsparing bitterness towards each other; and in most unscrupulously taking every advantage. Hence also these disputes have the peculiar recommendation of never coming to an end: there being no instance of either party's convincing his antagonist; so that the theme is inexhaustible.

There is one very pleasant sort of conversation, practised sometimes by country gentlemen, though oftener by elderly, unmarried ladies: it is, where three, four, or even more, talk all at once; producing an effect like that agreeable musical entertainment, called "a Dutch concert," wherein all the company sing together, but each a different song.

If you have no wit, but would fain pass for having it, be what is sometimes termed a runner of rigs: in other words, a professor of ridicule. Be constantly on the watch for odd ways in your acquaintance, or odd incidents in their lives, or peculiar circumstances in their condition; no matter, if they be misfortunes: and turn these into subjects of laughter. Though none such exist in the person you single out, still you may feign to see or know them, and raise a laugh against him as effectually, as if the oddity were there sure enough. A notable and successful branch of this art, is the practice of teasing bashful young women young men about their love affairs, or about anything else, concerning which you perceive them to be sensitive. I have known girls thus made to blush and wriggle, until the very sight of their tormentor would throw them into agonies: and his triumph would be completed by their falling into awkwardnesses, which would last them through life.-In all these cases, the

or

wit consists in the frequency and heartiness of your laugh. Repeat it, therefore, till he you laugh at is tired, and every calm looker on, also. But, as 'gentle. dulness ever loved a joke,' people of your own calibre will join you; and perhaps others, through sympathy: until at length every body, seeing you and your set always giggling at something, will believe you a marvellous wag: so that, whenever your lips open, all other mouths will be fixed to laugh. This is the cheapest way in the world, of becoming a wit. By such means, one with scarcely a thimbleful of brains may keep the mastery over a person having ten times as much sense.

There are other rules that ought to be given: such as rules for browbeating-for quizzing-for the display of learning-for raising blushes in a modest face-&c. &c. But my paper is so nearly out, that I have only room to mention them thus briefly; and to lay down one maxim, which gives the clew to them all, as it is the end for which they all should be practised upon: namely, Converse, not to please, instruct, or learn; but to divert yourself, and display your own consequence.'

THE DEAN OF BADAJOS,*

'Dear Rogers, at your hint I have been fain
To versify this pithy tale of Spain,
Perhaps the growth of a more Southern shore,
Transplanted thither by invading moor;
Which, being graffed where it has taken root,
Hath changed the form and color of the fruit.
Yet stringing rhymes upon a tale which flows
So neatly and so naturally in prose,

May seem to some (and some who know what's what)
Akin to tying bladders to a cat :

Since--wind and wings to boot-when all is done,
She cannot fly so well as she can run;

But you (I find) are backed by La Fontaine ;

He in a preface says, "that stories gain

By being versed," and--what might make me bold,

And them, whose stories, like my own, are old-

"That stories gain by being often told."

His word and yours should justify my deed;
But, as few now his pleasant pages read,
Your warranty must keep my bark afloat;
And victualled for short venture is the boat.

In the poetical department we have heretofore confined ourselves to original matter. We insert this selection at the suggestion of a gentleman whose classical attainments and good taste, are a sufficient guarantee, that it will not be an unacceptable treat to our readers. It is a spirited and easy poetical version of a popular Spanish tale, which through the medium of a translation furnished by Richard Cumberland, has long been known to readers of the British classics.

The Dean of Badajos, has an anxious desire to perfect himself in magic. With this object in view he visits Toledo in order to become a pupil of Torribio, a famed sorcerer. Torribio at first refuses his request, on account of having been so ungratefully requited by former pupils. The Dean after declaiming against their ingratitude, and affirming his own generosity, by his pressing entreaties, obtains his consent to become his pupil. By his art Torribio throws him into a deep sleep, in which in the course of one hour, the succeeding events of his life are pictured to his eye, and he rises by successive steps from a Dean to the Popedom, and by various pretences defers the reward he had promised Torribio, until at last he is about to banish him, when the spell is removed, his ingratitude demonstrated, and he returns home humbled and abashed. Independent of its humor, the moral is a good one.-[Ed. Mess.

'The Dean of Badajos was (report hath said) A scholar and a ripe one, and well read In all the arts and sciences which rank a Man highest in the schools of Salamanca, Coimbra or Alcala; nor was to seek In Law or Logic, Latin or in Greek: In schoolmen versed, in poets, epic, tragic, And comic-he knew everything but Magic. To lack such knowledge was a source of pain, For none (he deemed) could show that secret vein, Of all the learned men that lived in Spain. At last, and when least hoped, within his reach, He heard of one that could the science teach, Who at Toledo lived, of little fame; And Don Torribio was his style and name,

'Scarce of his name assured and his abode, The Dean was on his mule and on his road. He lighting at Toledo, to a lone Mean dwelling by his muleteer was shown; And, as if all was moulded on one plan, Such as his modest mansion found the man; To whom, due congees made, he thus began :-"I am the Dean of Badajos. Is none In Seville, the Castilles, or Aragon, Nay-not from Cadiz to the Pyrenees, (Whatever are his honors, or degrees) But calls me Master; yet were I by thee Called scholar, it a higher praise would be :Instruct me but in Magic, I entreat, And bind me to thy service, hands and feet."

'Although he piqued himself, as he might well, On keeping the best company in hell, Torribio dealt not (as my story teaches) In candied courtesies and flowery speeches ; But bluntly said, "he had met such ill return From all that had repaired to him to learn, It was his firm resolve, that never more Would he reveal his prostituted lore." -"And has the great Torribio been repaid In such base coin?" the dean of Badajos said, And as if such a thought had fired his bloodPoured forth so loud, so long and large a flood Of saws and sentences against the crime Of foul ingratitude, in prose and rhyme, All on a foam with honest hate and scorn, That by the furious torrent overborne, The sage confessed, "he could no more repel The advances of a man who spoke so well: He would instruct him; he would be his host;" And from his window cried..." Jacintha, roast A brace of partridges ;" (this window looked Upon the kitchen where Jacintha cooked; His cook and faithful housekeeper was she :) Adding, "the dean of Badajos sups with me." Next touched his pupil's brow, and said, (let not The words by thee, good reader, be forgot,) "Ortobolan, Pistrafier, Ornagriouf ;" Then of his zeal and art gave present proof; Opened his books; and with his pupil fell To work on sign and sigil, spirit and spell.

'Master and scholar little time had read, Before a knock, strange voice, and heavy tread Were heard; and lo! Jacintha, and with her A squat, square man, that seemed a messenger. Breathless he was, and fiery hot with haste, Splashed to the eyes, and booted to the waist. This courier was postilion to my lord Bishop of Badajos; and he brought word, "The bishop".--(who had for a long time been Ailing, and who was uncle to the Dean)--"Had had an apoplectic stroke and lay Upon his death-bed when he came away." The dean, intent upon his long-sought art, Cursed messenger and uncle---but apart--And gravely bade the man return; "he would Follow (he added) with what haste he could ;" But hardly was he gone before the twain, Wizard and Dean, were at their work again.

'Vainly, for lo! new messengers! but more
Worth hearing were the tidings which they bore.
This new arrival was a deputation,
Sent by the Chapter, who, in convocation,
Since the dean's uncle, their right reverend lord,
The bishop, had been called to his reward,
Had chosen him--as fittest found---to keep
And feed and fold his houseless, hungry sheep.
Upon this hint Torribio spake; he paid
The bishop a brief compliment, and said,
"He upon this occasion might fulfil
His promises; nor did he doubt his will.
He had not yet informed him he had a son,
Who, wanting not in mother wit, had none
For the dark sciences: whom he had ceased
To press upon this point, and made a priest :
Nor better count his beads, nor said his credo,
In all the many churches of Toledo.

Then, since his pupil could not be at once
A bishop and a dean, and must renounce
The lesser dignity, he would outrun
His wishes if he gave it to his son."

'Embarrassed was the dean; but cleared his eye
And cloudy forehead, and thus made reply:
"It grieves me---grieves me greatly to refuse
The first small boon for which Torribio sues;
But a rich cousin, by my kin well seen,
One that is only fit to be a dean,
And who has promised I shall be his heir,
Looks to my deanery; and, should I dare
Withhold the prize for which he hopes, I should
Anger each man and woman of my blood.
But a poor deanery in Estremadura
Ill fits his son, to whom I would assure a
More fitting and more profitable boon :--
And surely this could compass late or soon:---
Sooner or later, some new prize must fall;
And, since I must obey my clergy's call,
Follow me, I beseech, and you shall be
Friend, counsellor, and all in all to me :

Leave not, dear master, ('tis my prayer) half done
The work you have so happily begun;
And reckon on his gratitude, who knows
The measure of the mighty debt he owes."

"After some pause, Torribio gave consent,
And with him to his see of Badajos went;
Where, as if he had filled the high vicar's stall,
He was to the new bishop all in all :
Nay---by his conduct earned, and tongue and pen,
Golden opinions of all sorts of men.

• Beneath the guidance of so good a master,
The bishop, if more cautiously, moved faster
In magic, (for more steady was his pace)
Than when he first began to run that race;
Learned studies with his duty to combine;
And shaped himself withal so just a line

That throughout Spain, in country, town, and court,
Fame of his worth and wisdom made report.
When lo! into his lap-unlooked for-fell a
New plum, the archbishopric of Compostella.
I should want words to tell, how at their loss
Men--priests and people-mourned in Badajos:
Whose Canons (their last tokens of respect)
Besought their parting prelate to select
One from among his many friends, to be
His successor in that afflicted see.

'The occasion was not by Torribio lost; Who for his son again besought the post; And was again refused the vacant place: But that with all imaginable grace:

"The archbishop felt such sorrow, felt such shame, At so postponing his preceptor's claim :

But could he a yet older claim withstand?
That of Don Ferdinand de Lara, grand
Constable of Castile: for service done,
He sought the windfall for a natural son.

Bound to this Lord" (though visible relation
Was none between them) "by old obligation,
He paid a debt; and hence might be inferred
How well with all he kept his plighted word."
This fact, however it might make him grieve,
Torribio had the goodness to believe;

At his rare fortune that had gained the good,
Which he had lost, rejoiced as best he could;
And, as before at Badajos, went to dwell at
His see of Compostella with the prelate.

So little there those two were to remain,
That the remove was hardly worth their pain.
Soon the archbishop to a better home
Was summoned by a chamberlain from Rome,
With scarlet hat and brief; "the holy father"
(That brief declared in full) "desired to gather
Wisdom and knowledge from his mouth, whose name
Was noised through Christendom by clamorous fame;
And left him power again to appoint-that lesser
Might be his church's sorrow-his successo."

'Torribio was not with his reverend chief
When the pope's chamberlain brought hat and brief.
He to Toledo for some days had gone,

It chanced, upon a visit to his sort;

Who (for his course had been more slow than sure)
Was living there upon a paltry cure:

But, being now returned, was spared the pain

Of suing for the vacant see in vain :

Him the arch-prelate went to meet; he prest

With open arms Torribio to his breast;

And cried; "you have heard good news; now hear the best!

Now have I two to tell instead of one;

I have been made a cardinal, and your son

A cardinal as well shall briefly be;

Or I have no credit with the holy see.

I had predestined him my vacant throne:
But mark his evil fortune, nay, my own ;
My mother, left at Badajos, when we
Were called to Compestella, wrote to me,
While you, dear sir, were to Toledo gone,
Unless my mitre was bestowed on Don
Pablos de Salazar, her ancient friend
And her confessor, it would be her end.
And such, I well believe, would be the case.

Now put yourself, dear master, in my place :

Say; would you kill your mother?" and he sighed.
-Not of a kind to counsel matricide,

Torribio was, in truth, or in appearance,

Content, nor cursed the beldam's interference.

But would you sift the story---she whose will

The pious son pretended to fulfil,

This earnest advocate was old, and fat,

And foolish, seeing but her maid and cat;

And, as on all sides it was said, (Heaven bless her!)

Knew not the very name of her confessor.

Was it not rather at the instigation

Of a Gallician lady, a relation

Of this Don Pablos, it was brought about,

A hospitable widow and devout?

Thus much is sure; the prelate used to vaunt

This pious woman's wine of Alicant;
Called her unfailing flask "the widow's cruse,"
And often blest her ollas and ragouts.

'However this might be, in friendly sort
Master and pupil sought the papal court:
Wherein as well the cardinal was seen,
As everywhere he heretofore had been;
As popular with priest as pope, a vote, a
Word from his lips sufficed to rule the rota.
While thus acknowledged, pope and priesthood's guide,
Yea, in his height of fame the pontiff died.
And lo unanimous the conclave were

In calling him to fill St. Peter's chair.

"The holy father solemnly proclaimed...

A private audience Don Torribio claimed ;

And wept for pleasure while he kiss'd his feet, Who filled so worthily the sacred seat.