' 1 And now the time in special is, by privilege, to write and speak what may help to the ontroversal faces, might now not unsignificantly be set open: and though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in Hie field we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and falsehood grapple. "" ' ™ " - - -- Her confuting is the best and surest suppressing.— MILTON'S AREOPAGITICA. in agitation. The Temple of Janus, with his tw0 ' et the Who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter. JANUARY 14, 1843. XX. Price One Penny. OUR " ANNUAL" ADDRESS. What! Tho " Free Press" published on the last day of the old year, and again on the first Saturday in the new year, and yet no address to its readers;— no humble aud courteous tender of heartfelt acknowledgements for the numerous, multifarious, and manifold favours conferred upon its rising merit by the judicious patron- age of a talent- discerning public ;— no bland and liope- exciting promises of treats to come, and of better dishes for our future hebdomadal repasts ! Yes! So it was. There was no " annual" address to our readers, subscribers, supporters, and friends; nor even a word or kind hint to those " friends" who are neither readers, subscribers, nor supporters. And why ? Because it did seem to us to be ridicu- lous to draw up an " annual" address, until our little penny cracker had at least delighted its group of Guy- Fauxites with fifty two weekly bursts,— either of applause or of indignation, it matters not which. To us,— that is to our periodical, for we and the " Free Press" are identical and idiosynchronical,— to us, the first of January, in the year of our Lord, one thou- sand eight hundred and forty three,— the New Year's Day of common, ordinary, and vulgar folks,— the profanum vulgus,— to us, that day was not the first of a new year; and for us to have issued an " annual" address, on that day, would have been something like keeping the birthday of a child four months old ; and going beyond what Patrick O'Maghoman said of the turnpike roads in his country, that at the end of every half mile you find a handsome wooden mile stone! It seems, however, that there must be an address ; and one of our correspondents has had the presumption, impudence, arrogance, and — we cannot find termi bad enough to express it,— to write and transmit to us an address to " our" readers, drawn up in our editorial character; and, like the frog in Esop, puffing itself up into the fancied resemblance to our John Bullish selves ! " Impudent varlet !" exclaimed tho Monk, when he opened the paper, and glanced his indignant eye over its contents. " Presumptuous scouudrel!" added the Hermit. The Knight snatched up his spear, and shook his head in unutterable wrath. He " looked daggers ;" but he " used none:" for there was no one there to slab ; and, if there had been, his dagger had been broken in some paltry affray of a badger- hunt, and was gone to the blacksmith's to be repaired. Well! but what is this offensive document ? Reader, you shall see. It shall not have the honour of being inserted in the next edition, or the next series, of the " Rejected Addresses ;" for we will " print it, and shame the fool!" Another time, we ourselves will have a few words of" talkee" with those who choose to listen to our nonsense ; but now we will allow our unasked, self- obtruding, impertinent, sub- stitute to have his " say ;" premising, never- theless, that we neither say dillo to his senti- ments, nor adopt them as our own. How far we coincide, we shall leave, " for the nonce," and settle that score another day,, if our host,— that is our " Free Press" reading public, will only give us credit so long. We print tbe forged address, right- a- head, as the Yankees say. So, here goes :— TO OUR READERS. DEATH OF 1812.— BIRTH OF 1843. Two of the most important epochs in human life, are those of birth aud death. They are the cycle which of human affairs comprises every thing. Within this cycle is a world of immense variety,— of every thingbeautiful,— of every thing sorrowful. The sun, in its course through the quiet heavens, looks down upon a world dreaming as it were beneath its glory, and basking in the light and shade of its beams. The ' shadows steal along, through valley and fell, over moun- tain and forest, like the dim reflection of the moving wing of time passing over a sun- lit universe, which, all unconscious ofits loveliness, sleeps beneath the changing light, like some- thing of glory, never to expire. So the world of common life, tinted and varied, — for a time bright,— anon o'er- shadowed :— to- day sun- lit by hope, looking glad and feeling so ; knowing nothing and fearing nothing of sadness or darkness : to- morrrow dimmed by the touch of experience ; wearing a veil of sober hue; changed from brigh tness to the less at- tractive but instructive form of mellowed pen- siveness : ere long to merge within the precincts of an unknown future. Thus the years go round, dropping one by one away, like drops into the ocean of eternity. Thus we follow, and are forgotten;— like echo, we are, aud are not. We might fancy each year to be an echo which time sounded to life by calling at the portal, or in the still halls, of eternity. The year 1842 having come of age, and its guests, 365 in number, ( which arrived in suc- cession to witness its majority; and without whose evidence it could not pass) having one by one departed, we find ourselves once more alone, on a free stage, commanding a viewless prospect. How delightfully one breathes and feels, con- templating a fine open country, beyond the limits of vision, and too wide for the eye to compass! And how greatly is the delight enhanced, when we have long travelled, ere we reached this scene, over difficult and uneven ground, devoid of light and beauty ; over paths of danger and uncertainty ! Tho company, too, on our road may have been of a dull and irksome character,— anything but agreeable, and in no wise desirable, except as contrasts, necessary to enable us to appreciate the value of really good society. Through such a country, and with such com- panions, no doubt many have travelled to the majority, or death, of 1842; and, like ourselves, breathe farewell to the past. All belonging to | it of good we would grateful ly cherish ; and all of evil and pain as gladly forget. The 365 guests of 1842 politely intimated, as they departed, that to 1843 they should pay a visit by proxy : at the same time hinting that, though their proxies might not be attired in dresses exactly similar to those worn by them, nevertheless they would be introduced under the same names. There would be, as usual, twelve families of the months, all neighbours, and seven old maids, of the name of days. These old maids, as was their practice in 1842, would call, each of them at different times, and always alone, eighty four times or more within the year, upon the families of the months, to know when Mrs. December would arrive. They would always bear their usual tales; sometimes a long tale ; at others a short tale; but in summer the longest tales of all. In winter, these tales would be dark, in spring light; and generally much more true than tbe usual tales of irregular old maids. They might have tearful tales, and windy tales, poetical tales, and the contrary; but in every case the gossip would be ended before dark. These intimations were left by the gossiping guests of the year just gone ; and as the last put on her mantle of grey, spangled all over with little silver spots much like stars, the first proxy visitor of 1843 made her appearance at the beautiful eastern door of the 1st of January. She came smiling, like some happy maiden, upon a heavenly morning, set at liberty, for the first time in her life, to wander and gaze where- ever her innocent fancy might lead, in ssarch of the sublime and gorgeous. Hers was hap- piness. She led forth Hope newly clad, the deity of every heart, around whose shrine the world for ever worships. For us she brought new expectations, new desires, new fears ; reminding us much of the silent and deep influence of ever- moving cir- cumstance,— of old friends gone,— of new ones gained. We would not read a homily of the past; ours is the future ; and our humble pretensions to your notice, we hope, may entitle us to increased support from those who can afford time to spend a few moments over our pages, as the weeks go round. Enemies we trust we have none. Friends we desire to have many. We desire to merit favourable consideration by a deportment marked by justice fo all. Our supporters have our best thanks; to our correspondents we are obliged; and to all who wish the " Free Press" success, and do it service, we feel grateful. We desire to make our paper as useful as so small and unpretending an instrument can be; and hope its circulation may be materially en- larged, and its contents such as may be accept- able and pleasing ; interesting in its local mat- ter and truthful in its details of local affairs: amusing to the fire- side circle, and charitable in its remarks. Such we would make it; and 2 THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. 3 such our friends, supporters, and correspondents, can cause it to be. Upon them we rely. The " Free Press," in strict character with its name, shall be a medium for all communica- tions entrusted to us, calculated to aid our design. Our limits are narrow, and our power feeble ; but we respectfully invite the favourable notice of those who may wish to promote the developement of literary taste and local talent. A medium of communication unbiassed by favoor or fear, where all parties may depend upon their contributions receiving due attention, may per- haps be worthy of support in a town like Hali- fax, where no such medium, save the " Free Press," exists, Should the " Free Press," at no distant period, enlarge its influence and usefulness, and become more and better known, steps may perhaps be taken to give it another and a bolder character. Till then we hope to make our way, as best we can, in humble confidence. We are reminded that some 10 or 12 guests of the New Year have been and gone; and, like most other things, were much of the old sort; but of all the changes of revolving time, we find none so marked as to deprive us of hope ; and hoping, perhaps against hope, we please ourselves with the belief that better things are in store. We trust it is so both for you, Readers, and for us ; and having a positive hatred of despond- ency, we have resolved never to be at home when she calls upon us. Cherishing this de- lightful feeling, our maxim is to make as much of present good as it can possibly yield ; leav- ing fear to take care of itself. VV. 10 January, 1843. The readers of the " Free Press " will do us the justice to understand that it was not our intention to publish any address to them, at the commencement of the current year ; and that the article we have just laid before them, was sent to us by a correspondent, who knows no thing of our position, our prospects, or our arrangements; and who has ventured,—" as fools rush in, where angels fear to tread," to try his own poor feeble hand, upon our all - powerful lyre. He has, at different times, sent us several articles, in prose and verse, under different signatures ; and, notwithstanding our rejection of several of Ms communications, he has been so emboldened by the success of those which have been printed, that he now aspires to the editorial chair, and has the assurance to assume our exclusive prerogative, the plural pronoun ! In the private letter that accompanied the article, he even went so far as to write,—" say, written by one of us." Can the force of impudence go farther ? Why, then, it may be asked, do you give him still more encouragement, by printing his article ? It is not, be assured, out of compli- ment to the writer;— it is not because we concur in what he says;— it is not because of a thousand and one other causes and non- causes that might be thought of; but it is because we are all of us in q lazy fit,— too sluggish to write any thing for the next number of the " Free Press;"— too brain- frozen to think, this Christmas weather;— and too glad of any and every opportunity of filling up the columns, without material infringement upon the luxury of our indolence. Reader, when we are, if ever, in a less lazy mood ; and when, if ever, the current of thought flows more happily and freely ; then, if at all, we will say something more unto thee. Until then, we say, or sing, with Mr. Oestreicher's pupils, Good night t May peace and rest Dwell in your breast!' Good night! QUESTIONS FOR THE GUARDIAN. To the Editors of the Free Press. GENTLEMEN,— In last Saturday's Halifax Guar- dian, there is a leading article on the Poor Law; and the Editor says, putting it in capital letters, on ac- count of its importance :— " If a working man cannot earn a subsistence— IIE HAS AN INALIENABLE RIGHT by the law of God, and of England, to relief from poor rates." I waive, just now, any opinion of my own ; but I wish the writer of this " most precious of precious " sentences, to give me a little, information ; and ac- cordingly put to him the following questions:— 1. In what part of the " law of God,"— by which, I suppose, he means the Bible,— is there any re- ference whatsoever, much less a direct sanction, of the poor- rate system ? 2. If poor- rates be the positive dictate of Holy Writ,— and nothing less than a clear, direct, and positive dictate can confer " an inalienable right;"— how came it to pass that poor- rates were not so much as dreamt of, throughout the whole of Christendom, until fourteen or fifteen hundred years after the com- pletion of the Sacred Oracles; and that, even to the present time, but very few Christian countries have any thing of the kind ? 3. How can any law of this country, or of any other country, confer " an inalienable right" to any thing whatsoever ? 4. Has not this very Editor of the Guardian often charged upon the New Poor Law, that it inhumanly repealed and set aside the right to relief given by the old poor law? 5. If that charge be true, in what way did the new law alienate an inalienable right; and, if it was so alienated then, how can the right remain " inalien- able " now ? I have a tew other queries for the same humane, polite, and erudite Editor; but these will do to be- gin with. I am, Gentlemen, Yours, & c. AN INQUIRER. Halifax, Jan. 10, 1343. PHILOSOPHY.— When men comfort themselves with philosophy, it is not because they have got two or three sentences, but because they have digested those sentences, and made them their own : so upon the matter philosophy is nothing but discretion.— Seidell. A TEACHER OP LANGUAGES.— When the Austrian army upset, in March, 1821, the Neapolitan revolu- tion which arose in June, 1820, old King Ferdinand cashiered nearly all the officers of his array, who were obliged to cut off their moustaches, and seek their livings in very different lines. A few months after the event, while walking one morning in the Toledo at Naples with a colonel of Dragoons, we met a droll felloiv who had been a lieutenant in the colonel's regiment. After duesalutations, thesuperior officer said " E, bene, cosa fai ora ?" (" Well, what are you doing now ?")—" Oh," said the broken lieutenant, with a glorious broad Neapolitan accent, " I teach the French language." " The French language 1" cried the colonel; " why, I never knew that you spoke it at all!" " Zitto 1 per carita" (" Be silent out of charity,") replied the subaltern— " What your Excellency suspects is true enough— 1 don't know much French, but then it is so easy to find a great many people who know a good deal less.' A BROTHER'S PORTION.— Snaroch, the son of Ta merlane, was a prince naturally avaricious, and of extreme parsimony in the management of his house- hold. A potter, who was aware of his disposition, once presented himself before him, and asked him if he believed in the truth of that doctrine of the Ma- hometan religion which teaches that Mussulmen are all brethren. Sharoch replied " Undoubtedly." " Then," resumed the potter, " since we are all brothers, is it not a great injustice that you should possess such an immense treasure, while I have only one poor chest of tools. Give me at least the portion I ought to have in quality of brother." The Sultan accordingly presented him with a piece of money of the value of three half- pence. " What!" said the potter, " is this all that is comiug to me out of so great a treasure ?" " Retire," said Sharoch, " and be careful to tell no one of the sum I have given vou : your portion would not be so considerable if all our other brothers knew it." REVOLUTION. Fromthe Rev. R. W. Hamilton's " Nngte Liter aria:.") Revolution can never take place in the governments of the world, without a great aptness in public senti- ment for it. Seldom, however, is a people so ripe, and so prepared, that such a change shall not cost a struggle : but as seldom does such a change not repay it. The causes must be deep and general. Men are commonly long injured,— worn out with wrong, eie they are goaded to this redress. Our own was but the proscription of a hated dynasty ; and the dash of a pen achieved it. That of America, be its provocation great or small, was the requirement of self- rule, by a vast colony, which was old enough for a patriotism, and strong enough for a defiance. Never had country a juster ground for this species of vindication than France. There was not a great heart but beat in sympathy with it. Had it been earlier, its righteousness would have been clearer still. It should have fallen upon the rampant vice of tyranny, and not upon its feebleness. The worst, by the delay, were spared ; and then it was acted by the few, and only imitated by the multitude. There was no standard morality,— no restraining principle. It was a terrible recoil of passion. It was a judgment for martyred blood. The original quarrel was for- gotten ; and assassins seized on it as an occasion for massacre and booty. Yet, when this age has passed, and its wars are forgotten, and its prejudices are allayed,— even that tempest and whirlwind shall be confessed to have ventilated the political atmosphere of the earth, and to have dissipated many a putrid pest which they found hanging there ! That a crisis now solemnly pauses over the human family,— that the chronicle of our world has now reached a surpassing interest, few will deny. The spirit of this age, growing long and maturing fast, struggles for expression. It teems,— it travails, with glorious presages. What are its signs ? It is the spirit of vindication. Man feels that he has been the subject of atrocious wrong. He has been crushed to the dust. His claims have all been mocked and spurned. He but asserts himself; but that assertion is a business of no mean import, and must prove one of mighty earnest. It is the spirit of knowledge. The soul feels that to be without it is not good. As the eye covets light, and even the flower of the cavern turns towards it, man disdains the ignorance which has been forced upon him ; and, more than they who wait for the morning, invokes the irradiation which can change mental darkness into day. It is the spirit of independence. The postulates of intellectual exaction are refused. The watchwords of general opinion are slighted. Proof is craved. Test is applied. Theory is sifted. It is the spirit of liberty. The quenchless passion which found an inbeing in the bosom of the enlight- ened and the virtuous few of old, has now awakened an all but universal sympathy. Even the slave breaks his bonds ; and shall idiot- sway hold nations captive ? It is the spirit of dignity. Man emulates his proper place and rank. Himself he too mueh prizes to be proud; And nothing thinks so great, in man, as man. YOUNG. And though there may he much superficial boast; though the malapert sciolist may be often observed ; though the affected confidence may be the look of vacancy ; though the vaunted march may be the strut of conceit and the stalk of pride ;— yet is there, in all that encourages our hope and confirms our augury, depth as well as diffusion, and strength as well as lustre. The pillar is massive in every pro- portion to its ornament. The bed of the river will sustain every rush of its tides and every confluence of its waters. The time shall come when the univer- sal plan will be expounded,— how all has subserved one end, and hastened to one goal. REMARKABLE BLOODHOUND,— The Spanish writers make particular mention of a bloodhound, named Leoncicr, which was a constant companion, and, as it were, body guard of Vasco Nunez, and they describe him as minutely as they would a favourite warrior. He was of a middle size, but immensely strong ; of a dull yellow or reddish colour, with a black muzzle, and his body was scarred all over with wounds re- ceived in innumerable engagements with the Indians, Vasco Nunez always took him on his expeditions, and sometimes lent him to others, receiving for his ser- vices the same share of booty allotted to an armed man. In this way he gained by him in the course of his campaigns upwards of a thousand crowns. The Indians, it is said, had conceived such a terror of the animal, that the very sight of him was sufficient ta put a host of them to flight. THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. 3 POETRY. SELECTED. „ " HOW OLD ART THOU?" Genesis xlvii, 8. BY THE REV. THOMAS RAFFLES. What's thy age ? My friend, I ask, Not in curiosity: "' Tis a self denying task Cusfcomrhas imposed on me. With the monitory lay, Thus to meet the New Year's Day. Thou art young, perhaps, and life Is but opening on thy view ; And thy busy thoughts are rife With the deeds thy hands shall do; With the active and the gay, Welcoming the New Year's Day. But the young, you know, may die. Young as you are in the tomb- Brilliant once, as thine, their eye, On their cheeks as bright a bloom— But for them, with cheering ray, Breaks no more the New Year's Day. And, amidst the coming year, Such an early grave may be, With the shroud and funeral bier, Suddenly prepared for thee ; Nor, on earth, thy future stay Reach another New Year's Day. Thou art old, perhaps, and age In thy tottering steps appears; Lengthened is thy pilgrimage, Few and chequered are its years ; Thou hast seen, ere this decay, Many a joyous New Year's Day. Well— if but prepared to go, It will be thy gain to die ; Joy, the glad exchange for wo, In a blest eternity, Where, in regions farjaway, Reigns an endless New Year's Day. Or, in life's meridian, thou, With commercial toils oppress'd ; Lines of thought upon thy brow- Anxious cares within thy breast; Varied schemes before thee lay Plans for many a New Year's Day. " Yes,— to- morrow I'll repair To the mart of merchandise— There I'll stay— a month— a year- Buy and sell, and gain the prize,* And, exulting, bear away, Wealth for many a New Year's Day." Thus you speak;— but, ah! how vain Is the boast of days to come; Days, perhaps, of grief and pain, Days of sickness and the tomb- All thy hopes have fled away, Ere the coming New Year's Day. Then, my spirit, rise above This dark scene of toil and care,— Rise, on wings of faith and love, To the glorious regions, where Months and years are past away- Lost in One Eternal Day. * James Edge Hill, January 1, 1843. OUR SCRAP BOOK. " A thing of Shreds and Patches." INDUSTRY.— There is no art or science that is too difficult for industry to attain to ; it is the gift of tongues, and makes a man understood and valued in all countries and by all nations ; it is the philosopher's Stone that turns all metals and even stones into gold, and suffers not want to break into its dwelling ; it is the north- west passage that brings the merchant's ship as soon to him as he can desire— in a word, it conquers all enemies and makes fortune itself pay contribution.— Clarendon. ENGLISH AND ATHENIAN LAWS.— In consequence of the proverbial expensiveness of English justice, and the unintelligible confusion of English law, a vast number of suits is withheld from our courts, which, in a commercial and eminently busy country, would else naturally come into them. Litigiousness is re- pressed by a denial of justice. Moderate men sub- mit to great hardships, before tbey can reconcile themselves to a law- suit ; and as for criminal pro- secutions, respectable persons think few annoyances so great as that of being anyhow implicated in them. In short, we may fairly say that the records of our courts would by no means furnish an average sample of English life. Posterity would read in them much of the grasping and the gross, the fraudulent and the criminal, but we might justly protest against the idea that such were the staple commodities of our day. Ia these points, the Athenians differed widely from us. Their law- givers, from Solon downward, had brought into the market cheap justice in wonder- ful abundance ; we mean, as far as the legislatorial wisdom of that day could possibly furnish justice. Nor can it be doubted that the Athenian laws, as a whole, were excellent; and that the prosperity of Athens largely depended on this excellency. But a natural result of cheap and prompt law is, that people consume it in large quantities. Minor differences, which are with us made up in silence,— the weaker party submitting, from necessity or prudence,— were by the Athenians at once laid before the judge, or the legal umpire ; for a highly organized system of srbitration was instituted at Athens, beside the system of judge and jury. Hence it was that all their neigh- bours regarded the Athenians as incurably litigious ; -.- an opprobrium which the English will assuredly earn, if ever cheap justice is placed within their reach. Moreover, the intimately close relation between each citizen and the state,— since, in those ancient com- monwealths, every citizen bore a public character,— subjected even the most retired and inoffensive to be dragged into the public courts. The very fact of being retired and inoffensive, might be looked on as a culpable indolence, in a state which needed the active services of all its wealthier and well- educated citizens. Such characters, therefore, were, for more reasons than one, butts of attack for false or mali- cious prosecution ; and most prudent men, in those days, became members of clubs constituted for mutual defence in the criminal courts. When thus the most moderate and respectable of the citizens were continually coming within the judicial sphere, either with or without their own will; it appears a just inference, that the characters and dealings which we meet with in tbe fragmentary remains of the Attic forum, are no very unfair sample of all that was to be found in Athenian life.— Eclectic Review. THE VULTURE.— It is generally imagined that the vulture owes its power of discovering food to a high developement of the olfactory organs. This is, how- ever, an error, as Audubon has satisfactorily shown. The vulture, like the other raptorial birds, is directed to its prey by a great endowment of vision. The office performed by the vulture tribe is that of sca- vengers of nature; and they remove, from the face of the earth, the carrion which would otherwise prove highly offensive and pestilential. " They are," says Mr. Swainson, " sparingly scattered over the south of Europe : in Egypt they are more numerous ; but in tropical America, although the species are fewer, the individuals are much more plentiful. No sooner is an animal dead, than its carcass is surrounded by a number of these birds, who suddenly appear, coming from all quarters, in situations where not one had just before been seen." Well has it been ordered, by an unerring Providence, that, in comparison with the other races of birds, the number of the raptores is small ; for, had it been otherwise, their rapacity would soon have depopulated the feathered world. For the same obvious reason, tbey propagate slowly. The domestic fowl,— appointed for the food of man, rears with facility a brood of ten or twelve chickens; but the eagle seldom hatches more than two eggs, and this but once a year. The various classes of animals are all nicely balanced. Had the carnivorous tribes been more numerous, the other races would have gradually disappeared from the face of the earth, until, at length their destroyers would famish, or devour each other. If the reverse had been the case, and there had been fewer, or none, of the raptorial tribes created, the swarming vegetable- feeders would have overrun, and utterly consumed the products of the earth. On either supposition man would perish ; and the world roll or, in its orbit without a single in- habitant to worship its Creator, or show forth His power. A GENTLEMAN.—" Stop, Nelly," said Mr. Long- shanks ; " don't use the word gentleman lightly; it is a term that should be very rarely, very cautiously, and very respectfully applied to any one. Gold is the most precious of metals, Nelly, and diamonds the most precious of stones, but gold and diamonds are very plentiful things when compared to gentlemen. The first you find in many a fool's purse, the second you find hanging round tbe necks of flirts, and de- mireps, and half harridans ; but let me tell you, you may go into nine hundred and ninety- nine out of all the saloons in Europe without finding such a thing as a true gentleman in them. A gentleman, Nelly, is not the man that wears fine clothes, either upon his body or his mind. I mean, not a man who dresses himself in silks and fine colours, smart coats and well- cut boots : who has a fashionable air, and assorts his garments > vith all sorts of propriety : nor he, who on the principles of a Chesterfield, decks his mind with graceful thoughts, shapes his demeanour by the most approved rules, and studies all that may catch the outward senses of those with whom he mingles in the world. No, Nelly, no, this is not a gentleman ; no more than a piece of gilded brass which bears the king's head upon one side, and his arms upon tbe other, is a guinea. The gentleman, Nelly, is the man who in his heart possesses the consciousness of universal benevolence and personal rectitude. The one giving to his whole manners and demeanour grace, suavity, and gentleness ; the other communicating to his countenance and his limbs both dignity and ease. This, Nelly, this is a gentleman : so, Nelly, you must not call me a gentleman."— The Commissioner. THE INFLUENCE OF BRITAIN.— When Baron Rothschild, the autocrat of Change, was examined before a Committee of the House of Commons, the members declared that he had converted the sober business of the mart imto a high theme for poetry. As the " great one of the city," in simple merchant phrase, sketched out before the senate his map of the traffic of England, the unambitious circumstantiality of the counting- house rose into the truest eloquence of description; and he imparted to the " plain facts" of our commercial greatness, an intensity of interest which might almost entitle them to tbe appellation of the statesman's romance. He called England the centre of tbe world,— the place where the " ends of the earth" were literally " met together ;"— the heart of the human race, whose pulsations regulated the social constitution of man. He declared that when England flourished, the world prospered ; and that the slightest shock to her commercial stability, was disastrous to humanity at large. He traced, with searching and calculating finger, the radiations of each operation of our Exchange, to the confines of distant states ; and accounted for the movements of the world, by pointing to the transactions of our merchants. So universal is the conviction of this ubiquitous influence, that the news from England regulates commercial business at the antipodes, while Britain is made the barometer of trade upon every mart; and the world's traffickers consult it each morning to see what weather- gear they shall wear for tbe day. Nor is it in this alone that Britain becomes the lawgiver of nations ;— she is not only the com- mercial regulator of mankind, but the oracle of uni- versal legislation. Her example is quoted by states- men as the sufficing reason for their measures. The governors of kingdoms become her servile imitators ; and for good or for evil her conduct is the rule of action for civilized communities. It is not, however, by these circumstances alone that our country has been called to the throne of " the great globe itself, and all which it inherits." She has undertaken the responsibilities of conquest, discovery, and civiliza- tion. She governs an empire on which the sun never sets; and numbers among her immediate subjects, tribes of every clime, complexion, and degree. Nay ; not contented with assuming tbe duties, and venturing upon the discharge of the functions, of this solemn,— this literally awful power, she mingles in the politics, the treaties, and the wars, of independent states ; and everywhere interferes in the regulation of the balance of power among the nations. She even aspires to be their arbitress in morals and religion, as in affairs of civil polity. The same ship which bears our merchandise to the tropics, carries with it the mis- sionary,— the herald of civilization, to the kingdoms which sit in darkness.— Eclectic Review. BOILING EGGS.— The gentleman who denied that the Duke of Wellington could ever have reaped any of his laurels in India, seeing that the laurel does not grow there, was less liberal than Soph. It was absolutely necessary to speak by the card when you spoke to her; but even then you were not safe. Her capacity for not comprehending was as profound as Kitty's ingenuity in framing an excuse. You took especial good'care ( say) to guard her against the hard- egg- boiling principle; you picked the plainest wotds out of the dictionary to impress upon her mind the simple fact in natural philosophy, that three minutes will do for the botlina: of an egg. At last you make her clearly comprehend, and feel that you may safely calculate on a breakfast. No ; the eggs come up'a. s before, hard as undertakers' hearts. " Now, Soph !" I cried out on such an occasion, " how is this ? Here they are boiled fit for a salad, in spite of every direclion. What did I tell you?"—" Oh! sir, I ramember exactly what you told me, and acted ac- cordingly. Tbe eggs were in the water, to a moment, precisely nine minutes."—" Nice 1 I told you three." —" Yes, sir. But there's three eggs. Of course, if one take three minutes boiling, three must take nine. I may be a fool, sir ; but I happen to know what three times three makes, for all that!"— Soph wa? incorrigible,— was a plague perpetually,— and longer. — Picayune. FEMALE BEAUTY.— Those who are accustomed to enlightened views on this subject, will know that there are different kinds of personal beauty, amongst which that of form and colouring holds a very inferior rank There is beauty of expression, for instance, of sweet- ness, of nobility, of intellectual refinement, of feeling, of animation, of meekness, of resignation, and many other kinds of beauty, which may all be allied to the plainest features, and yet may remain to give pleasure long after the blooming cheek has faded, and silver gray has mingled with the hair. And how far more powerful in their influence upon others are some of those kinds of beauty; for, after ail, beauty depends more upon the movements of the face than upon the form of the features when at rest; and thus, a countenance habitually under the influence of amiable feelings acquires a beauty of tbe highest order, from the frequency with which such feelings are the originating cause of the movements or expressions which stamp their character upon it. Who has not waited for the first opening of the lips of a celebrated belie, to see whether her claims would be supported by " the mind, the music breathing from her face," and who has not occasionally turned away repelled by tbe utter blank, or worse than blank, which the simple movement of the mouth, in speaking or smiling, ha3 revealed? The language of poetry describes the loud laugh as indicative of the vulgar mind ; and certainly there are expressions, conveyed even through tbe medium of a smile, which need not Lavater to inform us that refinement of feeling or elevation of soul has little to do with the fair counten- ance on which they are impressed. On the other hand, there are plain women sometimes met with in society, every movement of whose features is instinct with intelligence ; who, from the genuine hearted warm smiles which play about the mouth, the sweetly modulated voice, and the lighting up of an eye that looks as if it could " comprehend the universe," become perfectly beautiful to those who live with them and love them. Before such pretensions as these, how soon do the pink and white of a merely pretty face vanish into nothing !— Mrs. Ellis's. Daughters of England. FALLS OF NIAGARA.— Between five and six in the morning we arrived at Buffalo, where we breakfasted, and being too near the Great Falls to wait patiently anywhere else, we set off by the train the same morn- ing at nine. Whenever the train halted I listened for the roar ; and was constantly straining my eyes, in the direction where I knew the falls must be, from seeing the river rolling on towards them ; every moment expecting to behold the spray. Within a few moments of my stopping, I saw two great white clouds rising up slowly and majestically from the depths of the earth. That was all. At length we alighted; and then, for the first time, I heard the rush of water, and felt the earth tremble underneath my feet. The bank was very steep, and was slippery with rain and half melted ice. I hardly know how I got down, but I was soon at the bottom, and climb- ing with two English officers who were crossing, and had joined me, over some broken rocks, deafened by the noise, half blind by the spray, and wet to the. skin. We were at the foot of the American fall. I could see an immense torrent of water tearing head-, long down from some great height, but had no idea^ of shape, or situation, or anything but vague impp9< l;\ 4 THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. sity. When we were seated in the little ferry- boat, and were crossing the swollen river immediately before both cataracts, I began to feel what it was; but I was in a manner stunned, and unable to com- prehend the vastness of the scene. It was not until I came on Table Rock and looked— great heaven, on what a fall of bright green water !— that it came upon me in its full might and majesty. Then, when I felt how near to my Creator 1 was standing— the first effect, and the enduring one— instant and lasting— of the tremendous spectacle was peace— peace of mind- tranquillity— calm recollection of the dead— great thoughts of eternal rest and happiness ; nothing of gloom or terror. Niagara was at once stamped upon inv heart an image of beauty; to remain there changeless and indelible until its pulses ceases to beat for ever. Oh how the strife and trouble of our daily life receded from my view and lessened in the dis- tance during ten memorable days we passed on that enchanted ground. What voices spoke from out the thundering water— what faces faded from the earth looked out upon nis from its gleaming depths— what heavenly promise glistened in those angel's tears, the drops of many hues that showered around and twined themselves about the gorgeous arches which the changing rainbows made ! I never stirred in all that time from the Canadian side, whither I had gone at first— I never crossed the river again ; for I kr- ew there were people on the other shore, and in such a place it is natural to shun strange company. To wander to and fro all day, and see the cataracts from all points of view; to stand upon the edge of the Great Horse Shoe Fall, marking the ' hurried waters gathering strength as it approaches the verge, yet seeming to pause before it shot into the gulph below — to gaze upon the river's level up at the torrent, as it came streaming down— to climb the neighbouring heights, and watch it through the trees, and see the wreathing water to the rapids hurrying up to take its fearful plunge— to linger in the shadow of the solemn rocks three miles below, watching the river, as, stir- red by no visible cause, it heaved and eddied, and awoke the echoes, being troubled yet far down beneath the surface by its giant leap ; to have Niagara before me lighted by the sun and by the moon, red in the day's decline, and grey as evening slowly fell upon it— to look upon it every day and awake up in the night and hear its ceaseless voice— this was enough.— Dickens's American Notes. WOMAN'S LOVE OF APPROBATION.— Woman was not made to live alone any more than man ; and the absence of the natural assistant of the gentler sex was felt in ways separate from protection and support. AH the actions of a woman, whether of useful industry or of ornament, are subject to the approval and pleasure of the other sex, to which their own are subordinate, and on which they are founded. To descend to the humblest form of this feeling ; every one knows that when a fair lass has arrayed herself in her new gown or ribbons, or any finery put on for the first time, although the admiration of her female acquaintance may give a degree of pleasure, the applause or compliment of one man is more valued than that of a thousand woman ; and this feeling, modified by the circumstances of individuals, runs through the whole sex, and is part of the nature of the human being, implanted in the heart by the Divine artificer, to produce the most delicious fruit that grows in the garden of human life. Women, by themselves, require little to be comfortable ; they can live without bustle and without form ; neither in beauty of raiment nor in delicacy of food can they find happiness, so long as they have it to themselves alone. They require to please the other sex before they can please themselves. A knot of old maids may, to be sure, be bitterly merry over their tea and scandal, and despise the other sex with profound dis- dain ; but there is something unnatural in that enjoyment; nor does any body- suppose that the respectable spinster's heart bounds with such a sweet human delight at the compliment of her female friends, on her neat room, darling spaniel, and strong tea, ns the heart of the cottager's wife, when her tired husband tells her how nicely she has cooked his bit of supper, and how pretty she looks in her clean cap. It matters not whether the husband be the master of a palace or the occupier of a hovel— whether his day be spent in the sports of the field, the drudgery of a profession, or the labour of a farm ; the pleasure of the wife, and the object of her labour, is to have a table comfort- ably spread at his return, and to see that he enjoys the delicacies or the necessaries which she has provided for him ; whether the provision be merely a piece of bread and cheese and a snow- white tablecloth on the deal table, or the rich soup, the superb joint, and the bottle of exquisite wine, laid out in the magnificent dining- room, the feelings of a woman relative toman are the same.— The Herberts. VOWELS.— The philologist knows that the vowels are only an innovation, and that in the most ancient languages they were never used. On this subject M. Destains has some interesting remarks, in his work entitled " Phonography, or the Writing of Sounds." 411 have delayed, " he says," mentioning the vowels, because in primitive languages they were never written; as, for instance, in the Hebrew and Arabic, in which, even to the present date, they are but faintly indicated by means of small ornamental signs which do not belong to the writing, and which, had they been traced, however imperfectly, when these lan- guages were the living speech, would have constituted a capital offence, a sacrilege ; for the vowels, pure inarticulate emanations of the breath, constituting the first spontaneous acclamations of the human soul, have always been ascribed to God— Jehovah, that revered name, which the Jews were forbidden even to pronounce, far more to write. At a later period when other nations ventured to write those holy, sounds, they consecrated to them the three mystic characters, principles of all sciences, and considered as the attributes of divinity ; viz., the straight line, the circle, and the triangle, I O A. Even the whole of the English vowelic sounds might be encompassed within those three signs." * * * " It is a fact, that those five letters, so defective in our modern alphabets, when written in their natural order, viz., that of their natural progression, from the smallest to the fullest aperture of the organ, prespnt to our sight the same forbidden name which, after traversing the Pagan ages under the faint imitations of Zeus among the Greeks, and Jove among the Romans, is presented to the Christian world'in the five characters which are the fundamental, the vital part of their language : i e oua ( pronounce ce a ho oo ah, as all Christian nations, except the English and French, dp'pronouuc'e them), and with the two aspirations iehouah, Jehovah, the Living Speech." To show the deficiency of our al- phabet with respect to intonation, let us instance the letter A. It has three distinct simple sounds as different from each other as any other three of the whole. In dipthongs, a enters into the various sounds ascribed to vowels, and the same may be said of the remaining four. There are nearly thirtv ways in English of writing the twelve sounds attributed to a ; ten or twelve for each of the three sounds of e, and as many for those of o and u. For instance, we write the sound of e in her equally with every one of the five vowels, as in attJtr, altfcr, stir, actfir, Arthur. Let a character be invented, simple and natural in its formation, indicative of every sound which every language possesses, from the deep guttural of the Arabian Indian to the melodious intonations of the Italian and Spanish, and the firm and nervous articu- lations of the German and English, and the labours of etymologists shall be discarded, the mental miseries of the spelling book— miseries which our author seriously thinks have done much to fill the mad houses of Europe with incurable maniacs— slia', 1 have come to au end, and a universal written language shall at once be established. REFLECTIONS ON SEEING A PARTY OF EMIGRANTS ON BOARD A STEAMER ON THE ST. LAWRENCE.— Cant as we may, and as we shall to the end of all things, it is very much harder for the poor to be viituous than it is for the rich ; and the good that is in them shines the brighter for it. In many a noble mnnsion lives a man, the best of husbands and fathers, whose private worth in both capacities is justly landed. But bring him here, upon this crowded deck. Strip from his fair young wife her silken dress and jewels, unbind her braided hair, stamp early wrinkles on her brow, pinch her pale check with care and, much priva- tion, array her faded form in coarsely patched attire, let there be nothing but his love to set lierfortb or deck her out, and you shall put it to the proof indeed. So change his station in the world, that he shall see in those young things who climb about his knee : not records of his wealth and name, but little wrest- lers with him for his daily bread ; so many poachers on his scanty meal; so many units to divide his every sum of comfort, and farther to reduce its small amount. In lieu of the endearments of childhood in its sweetest aspect, heap upon him all its pains and wants, its sicknesses and ills, its fretfulness, caprice, and querulous endurance ; let its prattle be, not of engaging infant fancies, but of cold, and thirst, and huftger ; and if his fatherly affection outlive all this, and he be patient, watchful, tender, careful of his children's lives, and mindful always of their joys and sorrows ; then send him back to Parliament and Pulpit, and to Quarter- sessions, and when he hears fine talk of the depravity of those who live from hand to mouth, and labour hard to do it, let him speak up, as one who knows, and tell these holders forth that they, by parallel with such a class, should be High Angels, in their daily lives, and lay but humble siege to Heaven at last. Which of us shall say what he would be, if such realities, with small relief or change all through bis days, were his ? Looking round upon these people; far from home, houseless, in- digent, wandering, weary with travel and hard living : and seeing how patiently they nursed and tended their young children ; how they consulted ever their wants first, then half supplied their own; what gentle ministers of hope and faith the women were ; how the men profited by their example ; and how very, very seldom even a moment's petulance or harsh complaint broke out among them : I felt a stronger love and honour of my kind come glowing on my heart, and wish- ed to God there had been many Atheists in the better part of human nature there, to read with me this simple lesson in the book of Life.— Dickens's Notes. AFFECTATION OF SUAVITY.— There are some who affect a want of affectation, and flatter themselves that they are above flattery; they are proud of being thought extremely humble, and would go round the world to punish those Who thought them capable of revenge; they- are so satisfied of the suavity of their own temper, that they would quarrel with their dearest benefactor only for doubting it. And yet so very blind are all their acquaintance to these their numer- ous qualifications and merits, that the possessors of them invariably discover, when it is too late, that they have lived in the world without a single friend, and are about to leave it without a single mourner. FREDERIC THE GREAT'S ESTIMATE OF NOBILITY*. — The following anecdote of this sovereign, recorded in his Life, by Lord Dover, shews the opinion he entertained of hereditary ability :— A Hanoverian Count wrote to the King of Prussia, requesting him to receive his son into his army, and to make him at once an officer, in favour of his high birth. Frederic thought this a very ridiculous pretension, and dicta- ted, inconsequence, the following answer: " Your letter of the 22nd of May has informed me of the request you make of me, on the subject of your son ; but I am obliged to tell you, that I have long forbid any Counts being received, as such, into my army; for when they have served two or three years they retire, and merely make their short military career a subject of vain boasting. If your son wishes to serve, the title of Count can be of no use to him ; but he will be promoted if he learns his profession well."— Postscript, in the King's own hand ; " Young Counts, who have learned nothing, are the most igno- rant people in all countries. In England, the King's son begins bv being a sailor on board a ship, in order to learn the manoeuvres belonging to that service. If it should miraculously happen that a Count could be good for any thing, it must be by banishing all thoughts about his titles and his birth, for these are only follies. Every thing depends upon personal merit.— FREDERIC." A NAPLES DAY.— There is a sea breeze abroad to- day ; at home it is too warm for work, so we sally out of our good inn, the Grocelle, and turning to the right from its gateway, find a walk in the direction of Pansilippo and the Chiaja impossible, from the heat; in all that long line of street, so crowded in the even- ing, there is not now one creature on foot to give us encouragement. Our way to the Toledo, indeed, is all up hill, and through the disagreeable quarter of ST. Lucia, equally noisy, night or day, and swarming in all seasons with fishermen, inactive or at work. Here brown and unwashed nakedness, from seven to ten years old, runs rampant in hap jy unrestraint. A long line of stalls, with their one- sided screens, on which, when there is no fish ( which happens often), heaps of clam and other shells are laid out, not for the hungry, but for the curious. The high parapet sea washed wall behind this place of merchandize, is the ottoman of many a Lazzaroni, thoughtless of the fall he might have if he either slipt or slept. But a Lazzaroni never comes to mischief. GOOD CHEER.— Goodchecr is amost potent engine. When well- timed, it wins good will, and commands exertion more effectively than any thing else. When well understood, it goes far at little cost. There was a gentleman in times past, who. represented a very large county for several parliaments, at no other ex- pense than hospitably entertaining a set of hungry fox- hunters whenever they happened to come near his house. I was once at a starving coursing party, where one of the company won all oor hearts by a well- timed supply of bread and cheese and ale from a lone pothouse. The only election I ever assisted at that was throughout effectively managed,, owed such management in no small degree to a " constant supply o! sandwiches and Madeira to the committee. I con- sider good cheer as the very cement of good govern- ment. It prevents ill- blood, brings different classes together, ensures attendance, and causes alacrity, vigour, and despatch. The doctrine I always hold " to the parishes with which I have any thing to do is, that they must either eat together, or quarrel together, that they must either have tavern bills or attorneys' bills. The public has no way of being so well served as by furnishing good cheer, though the public, or those who call themselves the public, do not seem to think so just at present.— The Original. CREDIT.— The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or at nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer ; but if lie sees you at a billiard- table, or hears your voice at a tavern when you should be at work, he sends for his money the next day.— Franklin. CONTROVERSY.— All controversies that can never end had better perhaps never begin. The best is to take words rs'they are most commonly spoken and Ineant, like coin as it most currently passes, without rising scruples upon the weight of the alloy, unless the cheat of the defect be gross and evident.— Sir W. Templr. OUR CHATTER BOX. A letter signed " A Subscriber" has reached us, and amused us much. It contains what the writer calls " Stanzes ;" and he tells us that they are " from the pen of a very worthy individual, of this town," more of whose productions he " doubts not he can gain his consent to send " us. We could have passed over some rather conspicuous violations of ortho- graphical accuracy, if there had been a few sparks of real poetry; but in this respect we are not disap- ted, only because we had no expectations. The stanza but one shall serve as a specimen :— And since we have immortal souls Whose range is high ore earths controul Above the eircleing spheres that rool On Axis round the icy poles Through boundless space immencity. If X. will send us his address, he shall hear from us , Those of our subscribers who want back numbers to complete their sets, should make speedy applica- tion to our publisher, or some of the earlier numbers may be out of print. It. F. should send us a copy of the document which he mentions. We may then be able to answer his question. ' CHEAP AND FASHIONABLE HAT WAREHOUSE, 25, CROWN STRET, HALIFAX. J. ECKERSLEY begs leave to inform his Friends and the Public generally, that he has taken the shop lately occupied by Mr. Broadhead, ( in which shop he has been sole manager for more than 6 years;) and that he has just purchased an entirely New; and Splendid Stock of Hats, Caps, Trimm ings, & c., which he is enabled to sell at prices to meet the times. J. E. begs to say that the whole of his stock has been, bought for cash, from the first houses in the trade, thereby enableing him to offer to the Public, goods which, for Cheapness, Quality, and Fashion, cannot be surpassed. The most Fashionable Caps in Cloth, Fur, and Velvet. Gold and Silver Lace, Lively Hats, Travelling Caps, & c. Observe! 25, Crown Street, opposite the Upper George Inn. HALIFAXPrinted and Sold, for the Proprietors, at the General Printing Office of H. Martin, Upper George Yard.