Little Rock contains about eight hundred and fifty inhabitants, and is laid off with tolerable regularity by streets running at right angles. The ground on which it is built is somewhat irregular; but could easily be graded, so that it would slope regularly from the summit of the ridge to the river; in which case it would much resemble, in size and situation, the town of Newburyport. The houses are a motley mixture; consisting of every variety, from brick blocks of two stories to log cabins standing in juxta-position. Far the greater number, however, are shingle palaces. There are no public buildings, (unless you give the churches that name, of which there are three, two wooden and one brick,) except the State house to erect which, congress gave the territory ten sections of land, which sold for thirty-two thousand dollars. It is a great, awkward, clumsy, heavy edifice, of brick, with a smaller building on each side one a court house, and the other for secretary's office, &c. The main building is partly covered with tin; and is commonly called "Pope's folly" - after the Hon. John Pope, Ex-governor of the territory, its projector.

When I arrived at Little Rock, I commenced editing the paper of which I am now the proprietor. At that time political contests were carried on with much acrimony and violence, and abuse filled both the papers. Arkansas bore but a poor character abroad, and I dare not say that she did not deserve it. Matters have altered for the better. I venture to assert that there is not a more peaceable town any where than Little Rock. Its citizens are men from all parts of the Union, and there is no more intelligent, shrewd, and sensible, and at the same time, generous and hospitable community in the world.

Heigho! I am confident that I am writing but a dull article. This poring over law books, and arguing demurrers, and writing of declarations and deeds, is but dull business; and does not tend to exalt the imagination, or to fit a man to write for a Magazine. I will give you a "screed" of poetry, and e'en stop for this once.

TO THE FIRST COMING FLOWERS OF SPRING.

YOUNG nurseling of the spring and of the winds!
Thou com'st like tenderness fostered by neglect,
Or like a hope within a desert mind,
Lonely and beautiful, with brightness decked.

The earth is waking from her dreamless sleep

Of barrenness and winter; and the airs

Come hovering down from heaven's unmeasured deep,

And brood upon her; and the azure wears

The semblance of the placid ocean, in

Its great blue eye; and wandering clouds spread out,
In that great vast, their misty sails and thin,
And move, in constant restlessness, about

In the blue depths, freighted with rain and dew,
To scatter down, blessing the trees and flowers,
When night comes wandering, in silence, through
The clustering stars, guarded by darkling hours.

Spring, gentle spring! Thou nurse of happiness!
Cradled at first among the winter winds,
In thronging clouds gloomy and lustreless;
Thou comest like a dream of joy, that blinds

The heart with happiness- and thou dost bless
The barren earth, and the deep, sluggish minds
Of mankind, dulled by winter, and the ocean
Lifts its blue waves to thee with deep emotion.

Ay, thou didst sleep, while winter ruled, afar
In the calm greenness of the sea-girt isles,
While every wondering and impatient star
Watched for the coming of thy many smiles,

And thy soft winds, that should the frost unbar,
That bound the seed-girt flowers in the piles
Of frozen earth-yet still thy sleep was calm
Beneath the olive and the branching palm.

Then thou didst wake-thy influence was poured
From the unmeasured chrystalline of heaven, -
The winds of winter fled away, and roared
Behind the western mountains; -life was given

Unto the earth-the quiet rains were showered
Upon its brow-its frozen mass was riven,
And, like awakening dreams, the flowers sprung up,
And each for sun and rain lifted its thirsting cup.

One sprung as suddenly as love will spring,
At times, within the lonely heart-from out
The mass of rotting leaves that here did cling,
(Scattered when wintry winds did run and shout,)

And then the clouds opened their snowy wings,
And in the air came hovering about;

So that the light rain, and the lighter dew,
Rained, like a spiritual influence, through

The chasm of air. The joyful earth vibrated,

And greenness sprung-like many a pleasant thought Of universal joy—the sea, elated,

Quaked on his shores - with melody untaught.

SAYINGS AND DOING S,

BY THE MAN WITH A CAP.

ON CAPS.

IT has been a received axiom, from the age of Addison to this present age, which, if it escape being called the Age of Puffing, will probably bear the name of a "greater than Addison," that the public have a right to know something of the personal appearance of any one who seeks either to amuse or instruct them. I am not unwilling to render obedience to this requisition, which indeed I think very reasonable. Know then, gentle reader, that I wear a cap - Wear a cap? Is that your description of yourself? that does not in the remotest degree designate you - now a-days every body wear caps. Your pardon, reader, you are wrong, and evidently know nothing about the matter; but be not discouraged when thus I inform you, without ceremony, of your ignorance-be not discouraged, but put yourself in the attitude of a disciple sit at the feet of the man with a cap, and you shall be taught. First, what is a cap? If you take your reply from the common herd, you will suppose that every covering for the head which is not a hat, is a cap; for, very far from truth is this vain and foolish notion. Still, the word, when confined within its legitimate meaning, is comprehensive. The field is wide-as my great progenitor Cato (he wore a cap, apex pontificialis, vide Cicero) said, "the wide, the boundless prospect lies before me." Happily for you, oh reader, I am not obliged to add "shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it." Let us discriminate a little-first, the caps I speak of are not nightcaps though very many exceedingly pretty things might be said about nightcaps as, for example, imagine a cap of finest cambric, with one neat modest frill around the front - the plain white strings tied beneath the chin- of the fair young bride — think of that — I have other and less bright, though not less pleasing, recollections connected with nightcaps.

I remember, oh, how well do I remember, the silk net nightcap of my venerable friend, Colonel P, in his latter days, when time had thinned his silver locks, he wore that nightcap, - brown with black edges, in the day-time, and well did it become him. How often have

I seen him sitting in his old-fashioned high-backed arm-chair; his shrunk form nearly buried in the folds of his brocade dressinggown and his venerable features fully exposed, even to a portion of the high bald forehead, as he pushed his cap a little back in the earnestness of his discourse - how often have I seen him thus, and heard him tell his old Revolutionary stories, till his pale cheek would glow, and his aged dimmed eye kindle at the recollection of the Godlike men with whom he had suffered and labored in the Great Cause then would he tell what a flame of patriotic eloquence burned on the lips of Henry-how the brothers Adams stood side by side, ready to do or dare any thing for liberty-how freely Hancock and Carroll periled their wealth, and how freely every one, from Him, the unequalled, the unapproached, to the poorest soldier in the ranks, periled, and alas, too, often lost life for liberty-"And will you," would my old friend say "will you, when you remember the price your country's freedom cost us, will you not guard it will you dare you, fool it away-cast it from you?" Thus the venerable Colonel P- spoke thus he felt- but he is dead -- I thank

God he is dead - he does not live to see what we of this generation see, but feel not. He has been removed from among us, and in a good time; the God of the Free has taken his servant to himself. Speaking of men's nightcaps, it has long been a moot point, whether a man — a young man I mean, should ever wear a nightcap. It is a subject on which much might be said, though I do not mean to say much upon it, or indeed upon any one subject. I just throw out a hint here and there, and leave room for the exercise of your own minds. As to this question, I confess I had doubts-in my young days the cap has a nice clean look; and it is past denial that the ladies say they like it—at least they used to say so when diffidence was more the fashion with them than it is now; and many an honest fellow has been betrayed into wearing a nightcap-white, fitting close to the head like a monk's skull-cap, and tied under the chin with a piece of narrow white ribbon and it was only when the bride forgot her tremors, and burst into a fine rich guffaw, that the fellow found out he had taken a deal of trouble to make himself look like a sick taylor. No, no - never wear a nightcap till you are past your youth. Emma, my love; am I not right? My child! you need not blush and make a little dunce of yourself- there is nobody here- you have taken off that odious stiff silk dress, and put on your nice wide comfortable morning-gown-the door is shut the sofa drawn up close to the fire-you have taken up the new number, and thrown yourself down on the pile of pillows. Ah! there goes your comb - and your hair, really, Enima, you have beautiful hair, its all loose, and flowing even to the floor never mind, my dear, but just push it out of

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