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CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICERS - Dif. , CUSTOMS-Reasons for. ferent Manners of.
There not unfrequently substantial The custom-house officers of every nation I
reasons underneath for customs that appear to have yet travelled through have a different
Charlotte Bronté. manner of examining your luggage. Your crusty phlegmatic Englishman turns over each CYNIC-a Beardless. article separately, but carefully; your stupid A beardless cynic is the shame of nature. Belgian rummages your trunk as if he were
Miltor! trying to catch a lizard; your courteous French- CYNICS-Royal. man either lightly and gracefully turns up your
For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide fine linen, as though he were making a lobster
Byrua. salad, or, much more frequently, if you tell him you have nothing to declare, and are polite to him, just peeps into one corner of your portmanteau, and says, “C'est assez.” Your sententious German ponders deeply over your trunk, pokes his fat fore-finger into the bosom of your dress-shirts, and motions you to
D. shut it again. But none of these peculiarities had the Russians. They had a way of their DANCES–Rural. own. They twisted, they tousled, they turned
I love these rural dances,—from my heart I over, they held writing-cases open, bottom love them. This world, at best, is full of care upwards, and shook out the manuscript con
and sorrow; the life of a poor man is so tents like snow-flakes; they held up coats and stained with the sweat of his brow, there is so shirts, and examined them like pawnbrokers; much toil and struggling, and anguish and disthey fingered ladies' dresses like Jew clothes appointment, here below, that I gaze with men; they punched hats, and looked into delight on a scene where all those are laid their linings : passed Cashmere shawls from aside and forgotten; and the heart of the one to the other for inspection; opened toil-worn peasant seems to throw off its load, letters, and tried to read their contents (up- and to leap to the sound of music, when side down); drew silk stockings over their
merrily, arms; held boots by the toes, and shook them; opened bottles, and closed them again with “Beneath soft ere's consenting star, wrong corks; left the impress of their dirty Fandango twirls his jocund castanet." hands upon clean linen and virgin writing
Longfelloa. papers ; crammed ladies' under-garments into DANCING-Effects of. gentlemen's carpet-bags; forced a bootjack into
The gymnasium of running, walking on the little French actress's reticule; dropped stilts, climbing, &c., steels and makes hardy things under-foot, trod on them, tore them, single powers and muscles; but dancing, like and laughed; spilt eau-de-Cologne, greased
a corporeal poesy, embellishes, exercises, and silk with pomatum, forced hinges, sprained equalizes all the muscles at once. Richter. locks, ruined springs, broke cigars, rumpled muslin, and raised a cloud of puff-powder and DANCING-a Lady. dentrifice.
Dickens. Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and outy
As if they feared the light.
And oh ! she dances such a way,
The good yeoman wears russet clothes, but DANCING-Proscription of. makes golden payment, having time in his Dancing is an amusement which has been buttons, but silver in his pocket. If he chance discouraged in our country by many of the to appear in clothes above his rank, it is to best people, and not without some reason. grace some great man with his service, and Dancing is associated in their minds with then he blusheth at his own bravery. Other balls; and this is one of the worst forms of wise, he is the sweet landmark, whence social pleasure. The time consumed in preforeigners may take aim of the ancient En- | paring for a ball, the waste of thought upon glish customs; the gentry more floating after it, the extravagance of dress, the late hours foreign fasbions.
Fuller. I the exhaustion of strength, the exposure of
bealth, and the languor of the succeeing DANGER-Recklessness of. I day,—these and other evils connected with
As full of peril and adventurous spirit, this amusement are strong reasons for banishi ing it from the community.
As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud,
But dancing ought not therefore to be proscribed. On the On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. contrary, balls should be discouraged for this DARKNESS-Description of.
Shakspeare. among other reasons,—that dancing, instead of being a rare pleasure, requiring elaborate pre- Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars paration, may become an every day amusemeit, and may mix with our common inter- Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth This exercise is among the most Swung blind and blackening in the moonless
air. healthful. The body as well as the mind feels
Byron. its gladdening influence. No amusement
DASTARDS. seems more to bave a foundation in our nature. The animation of youth overflows sponta- Dastards are a class of creatures made to be Deously in harmonious movements. The true arrested; they are good for nothing else, can i lea of dancing entitles it to favour. Its end look for nothing else.
Carlyle. is to realize perfect grace in motion; and who does not know that a sense of the graceful is DAY-Blessings of the. one of the higher faculties of our nature ?
Enjoy the blessings of this day if God sends W. Ellery Channing them; and the evils bear patiently and sweetly. DANCING-Sprightliness of.
For this day only is ours; we are dead to
yesterday, and we are not born to to-morrow. Come, and trip it as you go,
Jeremy Taylor. On the light fantastic toe.
Milton. DAY-The Glance of God.
One glance of Thine creates a day. Watts. Up springs the dance along the lighted dome, Mir'd and involved, a thousand sprightly ways, DAYBREAK-Description of. The glittering court effuses every pomp ;
The stars burnt out in the pale blue air, The circle deepens : beam'd from gaudy robes,
And the thin white moon lay withering there, Tapers and sparkling gers, and radiant eyes,
To tower, and cavern, and rift, and tree,
The owl and the bat fled drowsily.
Day had kindled the dewy woods
And the rocks above and the stream below, Now softly slow let Lydian measures move,
And the vapours in their multitudes, And breathe the pleasing pangs of gentle love, And the Apennines' shroud of summer snow, la swimming dance on airs soft billows float,
And clothed with light of aery gold Soft heave your bosoms with the swelling note : The mists in their eastern caves uprolled. ! With pliant arın in graceful motion vie, Now sunk with ease, with ease now lifted high ; Day had awakened all things that be, The lively gesture each fond care reveal, The lark and the thrush and the swallow free; That music can express, or passion feel. And the milkmaid's song and the inower's
Milton. scythe, DANGER-Characteristics of.
And the matin-bell and the mountain bee :
Fireflies were quench'd on the dewy corn, For darger levels man and brute,
Glow-worms went out on the river's brim, And all are fellows in their need. Byron. Like lamps which a student forgets to trim :
The beetle forgot to wind his horn, DANGER-Estimate of.
The crickets were still in the meadow and A man's opinion of danger varies at dif- hill : ferent times, in consequence of an irregular Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun, tide of animal spirits; and he is actuated by Night's dreams and terrors, every one, considerations which he dares not avow.
Fled from the brains which are their prey,
Smollet. From the lamp's death to the morning ray. DANGER-Different Influences of a.
DAYBREAK-Hallowing Effects of. A timid person is frightened before a danger, a coward during the time, and a What soul was his when from the naked top courageous person afterwards. Richter. Of some bold headland he beheld the sun
Rise up and bathe the world in light! He DEAD–Bliss of the. look'd
I know thou hast gone to the home of thy rest, Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth Then why should my soul be so sad ? And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay I know thou hast gone where the weary are In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were blest, touched,
And the mourner looks up and is glad! And in their silent faces did he read
Where Love has put off, in the land of its birth, Unutterable love. Sound needed none,
The stains it had gather'd in this, Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank And Hope, the sweet singer that gladden'd The spectacle; sensation, soul, and form
the earth, All melted into him; they swallowed up
Lies asleep on the bosom of Bliss.
I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is
starr'd In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the Living God
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired;
Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be No thanks he breathed, he proffer'd no request :
marr'd, Rapt into still communion that transcends
Nor the heart be flung back from its goal. The imperfect offices of prayer and praise,
I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power
Through a land where they do not forget, That made him; it was blessedness and love! That sheds over memory only repose.
And takes from it only regret! T. K. Herrey.
Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb It was the lark, the herald of the morn, In life's happy morning bath hid from our eyes, No nightingale: look, love, what envious Ere sid threw a blight o'er the spirit's young streaks
bloom, Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east ; Or earth had profaned what was born for the Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day skies, Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain's top.
Death chill'd the fair fountain ere sorrow had Shakspeare.
'Twas frozen in all the pure light of its course, The first low fluttering breath of waking day And but sleeps till the sunshine of heaven has Stirs the wide air. Thin clouds of pearly haze unchain'd it Float slowly o'er the sky to meet the rays
To water that Eden where first was its source. Of the unrisen sun--whose faint beams play
Moore. Among the drooping stars, kissing away
DEAD-Grief for the. Their waning eyes to slumber. From the gaze
The day goes by, Like snow-ball at approach of vernal days, On which our soul's beloved dies! The day The moon's pale circlet melts into the grey. On which the body of the dead is stretch'd Glad ocean quivers to the gentle gleams
By hands that deck'd it when alive; the day Of rosy light that touch his glorious brow, On which the dead is shrouded; and the day And murmurs joy with all his thousand streams, Of burial-one and all pass by! The grave And earth's fair face is mantling with a glow, Grows green ere long; the churchyard seems Like youthful beauty's in its changeful bue, a place When slumbers, rich with dreams, are bidding of pleasaut rest; and all the cottages, her adieu.
Chambers. That keep for ever sending funerals
Within its gates, look cheerful every one, DAY AND NIGHT.
As if the dwellers therein never died,
And this earth slumber'd in perpetual peace. There came the Day and Night,
We must endure Riding together both with equal pace; The simple woe of knowing they are dead, The one on palfrey black, the other white; A soul-sick woe in which no comfort is, But Night had cover'd ber uncomely face And wish we were beside them in the dust! With a black veil, and held in hand a mace, That anguish dire cannot sustain itself, On top whereof the moon and stars were pight, But settles down into a grief that loves, And sleep and darkness round about did trace: And finds relief in unreproved tears. But Day did bear upon his sceptre's height Then cometh sorrow like a Sabbath. Heaven The goodly sun encompass'd all with beames Sends resignation down, and faith ; and last bright.
Spenser. Of all, there falls a kind oblivion
Over the going out of that sweet light He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse In which we had our being. J. Wilson. With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold.
Thomson. DEAD-Immortality of the.
DEATH-Acquiescence in. The dead are like the stars, by day
Oh ! just when Thou shalt please would I depart, Withdrawn from mortal eye,
My Father and my God! I would not choose, But not extinct, they hold their way
Een if I might, the moment to unloose In glory through the sky:
The bonds which bind my weak and worthless Spirits from bondage thus set free,
heart Vanish amidst immensity.
From its bright home; so I but have a part, Where human thought, like human sight, However humble, there; it matters not Fails to pursue their trackless flight.
Or long or short my pilgrimage; my lot James Montgomery. Joyful or joyless; if the flowers may start
Where'er I tread, or thorns obstruct my path. Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
I look not at the present-many years And thou wert lovely to the last;
Are but so many moments, though of tears : Extinguish d, not decay'd !
My soul's bright home a lovelier aspect hathAs stars that shoot along the sky
And if it surely shall be mine—and then, Shine brightest as they fall from high. Byron. For ever mine! it matters little when.
T. R. Taylor. DEAD-Numbers of the.
Ah! surely nothing dies but something The globe are but a handful to the tribes
Byron. That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
DEATH-The Angel of. Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 'Twas at thy door, O friend, and not at mine, Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound The angel with the amaranthine wreath, Save his own dashings,-yet, the dead are there; Pausing, descended; and with voice divine, And millions in those solitudes, since first Whisper'd a word that had a sound like death. The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep: the dead reign there alone. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom,
A shadow on those features fair and thin, DEAD-Remembrance of the.
And softly, from that hush'd and darken'd room,
Two angels issued where but one went in. The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination ;
All is of God! if He but wave His hand, And every lovely organ of her life
The mists collect, and rains fall thick and lond; Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, loto the eye and prospect of his soul,
Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud. Than when she lived indeed. Shakspeare.
Angels of life and death alike are his; DEAD-Resurrection of the.
Without His leave they pass no threshold o'er;
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, The dead! the sainted dead! why should we Against His messengers to shut the door ? weep
Longfellow. At the last change their settled features take ? DEATH-Anticipations of. At the calm impress of that holy sleep Now death draws near, a strange perplexity Which care and sorrow never more shall break ? Creeps coldly on me, like a fear to die. Believe we not His word who rends the tomb, Courage uncertain dangers may abate, And bids the slumberers from that transient But who can bear th' approach of certain fate? gloom
The wisest and the best some fear may show, In their Redeemer's glorious image wake? And wish to stay, though they resolve to go. Approach we not the same sepulchral bourne
As some faint pilgrim standing on the shore, Swift as the shadow fleets ?What time have First views the torrent he would venture o'er, we to mourn !
Mrs. Sigourney. And then his inn upon the farther ground,
Loth to wade through, and lother to go round: DEAD-Sacredness of the.
Then dipping in his staff, does trial make The dead, how sacred! sacred the dust How deep it is, and sighing, pulls it back ; Of this heaven-labour'd form, erect, divine ! Sometimes resolved to fetch his leap, and then This heav'n assumed majestic robe of earth, Runs to the bank, but there stops short again :
So I at once
innocent face looks so sublimely simple and Both heavenly faith and human fear obey, confiding among the terrors of death. CrimeAnd feel betore me in an unknown way. less and fearless, that little mortal passed
Dryden. under the shadow and explored the mystery DEATH-Approach of.
of dissolution. There is death, in its sublimest At Thy good time
and purest image; no hatred, no hypocrisy, Let Death approach ; I seek not ; let him come no suspicion, no care for the morrow, ever In genuine form, not with Thy vengeance darkened that little qne's face; death has arm'd,
come lovingly upon it; there is nothing cruel Too much for man to bear. Oh! rather lend or harsh in its victory. The yearnings of Thy kindly aid to mitigate his stroke.
love, indeed, cannot be stifled; for the prattle
Awe, too, will overcast us in its presence; for
DEATH--of the Christian.
Calm on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit ! rest thee now!
His seal was on thy brow. Springs into liberty, and light, and life.
Bishop Porleus. DEATH-Awfulness of.
Dust to its narrow house beneath!
Soul to its place on high ! Sure 'tis a serious thing to die, my soul !
They that have seen thy look in death, What a strange moment must it be, when near
No more may fear to die. Mrs. Hemars. Thy journey's end !-thou hast the gulf in
view That awful gulf, no mortal e'er repass'd
Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not To tell what's doing on the other side.
The Saviour has pass'd through its portals
And the lamp of His love is thy guide pair;
through the gloom. This wings its way to its Almighty source, The witness of its actions, nor its judge;
Thou art gone to the grave-we no longer That drops into the dark and noisome grave,
behold thee, Like a disabled pitcher, of no use.
Nor tread the rough path of the world by Death's thousand doors stand open.
thy side; If there's an hereafter,
But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to And that there is, conscience, uninfluenced,
enfold thee, And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man,
And sinners may hope, since the Sinless
has died. Then it must be an awful thing to die ! Blair.
then I shall go the way whence I shall not return. Job.
Thou art gone to the grave-and its mansion
DEATH-of a Child.
To me, few things appear so beautiful as a very young child in its shroud. The little
But the sunshine of heaven beam'd bright OD