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greater talents but new to us. The former has the advantage that his countenance, figure, voice, &c. have already become associated with emotions which he has often awakened before, and, therefore, `awakens again with facility.

For the same reason, likewise, an actor whom we have generally seen in characters of a certain description will not readily succeed in new ones. When Mr. Harwood attempts Hamlet his task is difficult indeed, because his very aspect, from the generality of his performance, has become blended with emotions of cheerfulness.

It is likewise obvious why grace is an indispensable requisite to the complete effect of any kind of performance or exhibition, for grace is nothing else but a harmonious tendency of the whole exterior towards producing the same emotion. Provided therefore there is justness of proportion in the general form and a sufficient degree of suppleness and pliability, unconcern, and ease, and being totally absorbed by the subject, by the interest of the moment, will inevitably be attended with grace. Thus children are graceful, and people under the influence of passion. They equally forget themselves. Nothing discordant appears. Nothing that retards or checks an emotion once produced.

It is not in contradiction with the explanation given that grace often requires much previous study and application. What is studied are certain motions, attitudes, gestures, which have been generally found becoming and impressive. Grace more properly consists in the propriety of using them. Gestures and motions are acquired as the words of a new language; but after they have once become familiar, a Garrick, when acting, will think no more of his feet and arms than of his eyes, his forhead, or the organs of his speech; he will think of his subject, and the more he is absorbed by that, the more completely he for¬ gets every thing else, the more he will transport the wondering audi̟

ence.

(To be concluded in our next.)

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MR. OLDSCHOOL,

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

Cincinnati, Ohio, August 22, 1809,

A distant admirer of your Port Folio requests a place in it, if you think proper, for the following morceau,

ON THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, AND PROPRIETY OF EXPRESSION.

A WISE and polished people will always feel an interest in maintaining the purity of their language: it is important in a national point of view; and hence the most refined nations have carefully cultivated their vernacular speech. The English language is as much the birthright of an American, as it is of an Englishman, and as such has a claim to his fostering care. It is the most copious, the most expressive, and energetic of all the modern, and superior to the best among all the ancient languages, if we except the Greek. It is studied by the polite throughout Europe, and has long been a favourite in Paris. Perhaps, there is none other so universally spoken. It has spread over an important portion of Asia, all North America, and many other places throughout the globe. Its force and comprehensiveness fit it for every species of composition; and, in this respect, it maintains a decided preponderance as to all other living tongues. It is neither adulterated with the guttural sounds of the Spanish, nor the nasal twang of the French; nor with the boisterous roughness of the German, nor the tame monotony of the Italian. Yet it is enriched with thousands of apt words, culled by the best English writers, from those and other languages, both ancient and modern; words, which are now completely associated with and made a part of English idiom. After all it must be acknowledged, its excellence is somewhat impaired by the too frequent occurrence of the letter s.

Since, then, we are in possession of a vernacular speech, graced and accommodated with all the needful powers of expression, let us endeavour to preserve its sterling purity, and shield it from the debasement of alloy. But has this been done? I answer, no!-since many words are now in use, throughout the United States, as barbarous as they are uncouth. And, what seriously adds to the evil, those Americanisms are uttered upon the floors of our legislatures: they fall from the lips of men classically educated, and have even become matters of record, by stealing into our statutes! How frequently do we hear within the walls of congress, and see perpetuated, as it were, in their very laws, such sounds as progréss (for proceed, travel), obtains (prevails, exists), illy (ill), preventative (preventive), therefor (for the same),

lay (lie, present tense), approbate (approve), proven (proved), plead (pleaded), striken out (struck out), lengthy (long), together with a numerous train, compounded of other bastard or perverted expressions! For the honour of our country we fervently pray, that this widespreading Patois may no longer prevail or be countenanced. How must it wound the feelings of sensibility to hear a member of the most illustrious of our national councils address the chair, with-" Mr. Speaker! after such a lengthy debate, and the breadthy stand which gentlemen have taken." And yet, there is no more impropriety in breadthy than lengthy; saving only, that the former; unlike the latter, has not, as yet, become current coin. In mercy to our mother tongue, let those barbarisms be banished forever from the union: " and let all the people say, amen!"

A similar evil, Mr. Oldschool, but of minor moment, rages in these sequestered wilds; and in no place is it more prevalent than here. I am alluding to advertisements respecting astrays, with which our learned magistrates crowd our weekly journals. There the eye is unceasingly offended with the view of those monstrous productions, horse-colts and mare-colts, prancing down every column. I wish those magistrates to be told, that such epithets are unknown to the English language; that their horse-colt is simply a colt, and their mare-colt merely a filly; that foal is an appellation applicable to either; and that, when foals attain their growth, and not till then, they become horses and mares, according to their relative sex. What should we think, upon hearing a boy called a man-child, or a girl a woman-child! The person guilty of so gross a misnomer, would merit a madhouse, or perchance, only a cap and bells.

J.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

MEMOIRS OF ANACREON-BY SEDLEY.

From the Author's Manuscript.

Happiness enjoyed by Critias in retirement-Death of Anacreon-
Funeral ceremony-Conclusion.

REMOTE from the intrigues of the court and unruffled by the din of contention our days were joyful and serene like those which nurture

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the beautiful Halcyon.* Enjoying the uninterrupted society of a friend, whom I esteemed, and a wife whom I loved, the gods had left mẹ nothing to wish. When I reflected upon the happiness which this intercourse produced I could not but acknowledge the source of it.

"How sweet to the soul of man,” would I exclaim, "is the society of a beloved wife! When wearied and broken down by the labours of the day, her endearments sooth, her tender cares restore him. The solicitudes, and anxieties, and heavier misfortunes of life are hardly to be borne by him who has the weight of business and domestic vexations to contend with. But how much lighter do they seem, when, after his necessary avocations are over, he returns to his home, and finds there a partner of all his griefs and troubles, who takes, for his sake, her share of domestic labour upon her, and soothes the anguish of his soul by her comfort and participation. By the immortal gods! a wife is not, as she is falsely represented by some, a burthen or a sorrow to man. No, she shares his burthens and alleviates his sorrows. For there is no toil nor difficulty so insupportable in life, but it may be surmounted by the mutual efforts and the affectionate concord of that holy partner ship."t

After we had been settled a short time in our new abode, Anacreon resolved to send to Lesbos for Sappho. Among others, the following ode, in which he describes the simplicity of our fare and the warmth of his affection, was composed upon this occasion.

A broken cake, with honey sweet,
Is all my spare and simple treat;
And while a generous bowl I crown
To float my little banquet down,
I take the soft, the amorous lyre,
And sing of love's delicious fire!
In mirthful measures, warm and free,
I sing, dear maid, and sing for thee!

But it was not reserved for him again to enjoy the society of this lovely woman, whose genius was only equalled by her misfortunes. Before the couriers had departed, I received information from one of my friends at Mytelene that Sappho had terminated her life and her sufferings by precipitating herself into the sea from the summit of a mountain in Leucadia. The following fragment of an ode was found on the shore.

• Simonides explains this trite figure. "For as Jove, during the winter scason, gives twice seven days of warmth, men have called this clement and temperate time of the year the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon." (Kingfisher.) This passage is a translation from Hierocles

From dread Leucadia's frowning steep,
I'll plunge into the whitening deep:
And there I'll float, to waves resign'd,

For Love intoxicates my mind!

The mournful intelligence was unfortunately communicated to Anacreon, while he was engaged in a banquet with a few of his former friends. The sudden dismay which this unexpected information occasioned was such, that he did not observe a grapestone which was swimming in his wine. He was choked by the contents of the cup, and the melancholy consequences were soon too visible in his countenance. I ran to succour him; but, with a smile which bespoke the feeble exertions of nature, he signified that it was too late. I gave him a cup of wine in hopes of relieving him. He took it from me, and, as he held it in his hand, he gave me an ode, in which he announced his departure from us in a strain of prophetic inspiration which resembles the plaintive notes of the expiring swan. It was probably the composition of one of those serious moments to which men of lively feelings are occasionally subject.

Golden hues of youth are fled;
Hoary locks deform my head.
Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,
All the flowers of life decay.
Withering age begins to trace
Sad memorials o'er my face;
Time has shed its sweetest bloom,
All the future must be gloom!
This awakes my hourly sighing;
Dreary is the thought of dying!
Pluto's is a dark abode,

Sad the journey, sad the road:
And, the gloomy travel o'er,

Ah! we can return no more!

He then poured out a libation to the Eumenides, the inexorable ministers of the vengeance of Pluto, and having thus endeavoured to appease their fury, he sank upon his couch. It was in vain that we prayed to Apollo, to whom sudden deaths are imputed. Anacreon likewise would have prayed to Mercury, to whom is confided the mournful office of conducting ghosts to the shades below; but the pangs of death were upon him, and the power of utterance was denied. We sounded brazen kettles, to expel those furies which are ever on the alert to carry the unfortunate to places of torment. We crowded around his couch

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