suitable, with a long nose. His breathing is bold and free, and his brain, as well as his lungs and heart, cool and clear. In my observation of men I have almost invariably found a long nose and a long head go together.' Here are some amusing examples of Neglecting the Antecedent :' 'SOME very whimsical instances of this occur continually, especially in the answers of witnesses when given literally as they speak. In a late assault case the prosecutor swore that the prisoner struck him with a broom on his head till he broke the top of it! In narrating an incident some time since, it was stated that a poor old woman was run over by a cart aged sixty. So in a case of supposed poisoning: He had something in a blue paper in his hand, and I saw him put his head over the pot and put it in? Another, swallowing a base coin: He snatched the half-crown from the boy which he swallowed;' which seems to mean the boy, not the money; but still the sentence is correct. An old fellow who for many years sold combustible matches in London, had the following cry: Buy a pennyworth of matches of a poor old man made of foreign wood!' The 'Bell' went in for 'Fashionable Intelligence' also; as its opera-reports sufficiently evince. Voila: "OUR reporter having been despatched yesterday to distribute the paper among the up-town subscribers, in the absence of the boy, had the impudence not only to go to the opera without leave, but to furnish the following account of what he heard and saw. N. B. We dismissed him from the office ipso facto: The opera was brilliantly attended last evening to hear BERTUCCA in the role of Lucia.' We have but one fault to find with this inimitable artist: a want of crescendo in the staccato movements, by which she falls two bars short of her cantabile in the Pizzicato notes running from H. to L., thereby leaving the allegretto bare and unsupported by her appoggio. FORTI and BENEVENTANO, ever great in their respective roles, were only surpassed by the prompter. We never heard this glorious artist to more advantage; his rough, stentorian notes soaring above all others, kept up the pleasing delusion of a drunken man in the pit, and frequently suggested to you the inhospitable exclamation of Turn him out! .. SPAGNOLETTI, the other day, in speaking of his first viola player, declared that, both as a man and musician, he was most praiseworthy; as a man, for the tenor of his conduct, as a musician, for the conduct of his tenor.' Among the smaller excerpts we learn How to kick a Man with Impunity: Two gentlemen were walking together in Paris. 'I will engage,' said one to the other, to give the man before us a good kicking, and yet he shall not be angry.' He did as he had undertaken to do: the man turned round and looked astonished. 'I beg your pardon,' said the kicker; 'I took you to be the DUKE DE LA TREMOUILLE!' The duke was very handsome, the kicked man very plain; he was gratified by the mistake under which he believed he had suffered, shook himself, smiled, bowed, and went on his way.' The following is very curious: There was a man once imprisoned in a very high tower, and how do you suppose he got down? By his hair! It had grown long during the period of his captivity; he cut it off, and uniting one hair with another by a little knot, he let down the gossamer line into the ditch of the tower, where a friend of his tied a fine silken end to it. He drew it up, and to the end of the silk was tied a thread, to the thread a piece of twine, and finally a good strong rope, by means of which he reached the ground.' No, friend 'S -,' it is Let the Law lay its hard cold hand upon a man; let him go to prison; let his bearing be downcast, his appearance hirsute, his garments awry, and smelling of his cell, and even his friends distrusting and estranged; and do you think 'the mass' then will pity him? Not a bit of it! — No, Sir : not so. RATHER believe the sea Weeps for the ruined merchant when he roars; All this may be wisely ordained as one of the added penalties of crime; but the fact is so and yet it is all wrong · WRONG! ... In order to send the present number to our English agents by The Europa,' which sailed on the twentieth of February, we were compelled to go to press by the sixteenth; omitting, in the consequent hurry, notices of many new works, HUNTINGTON's admirable collection of paintings (which the town reader must not fail to visit), together with other artistical and literary matters, which shall receive due attention in our next. THE KNICKERBOCKER. VOL. XXXV. APRIL, 1850. No. 4. EDMOND CHARLES GENET. THE recent difficulties between the present administration and Mr. Poussin has called forth many editorials in this country and Europe, reflecting upon the character of one long since called to his final restingplace. His dust commingles with that of his adopted country. The hand which once wielded an eloquent pen is powerless; the heart which sympathized with the oppressed, palpitates no more. He who once pleaded the cause and defended the rights of France, slumbers under a monumental stone, which tells the passer-by that GENET is no longer able to repel the attacks of calumny which have been crowded upon his character. He has departed from that world in which he met with so many and grievous misfortunes; he is no longer a member of that community, the members of which, for so many years, seem to have united for the purpose of loading his name with disgrace, of denying him even the privilege of self-justification, and of rendering his name hateful to succeeding generations. He has been accused, and, unheard, has been deemed guilty of the blackest crimes, of the most inconsiderate temerity, of the most shameless ingratitude; and the whole community seem to have acquiesced in the righteousness of the decision. As is often the case, after the suffering object of all these calumnies is at length secure from farther trials; after Death, kinder than his persecutors, has at last permitted him to exchange his residence in that world from the enjoyment of which its inhabitants seemed eager to exclude him, for a state of existence where sorrow shall be no longer, and where every man's true motives are understood and allowed, some inquiry seems to be manifested whether in all cases justice had been done him; whether the violence of party spirit has not cast upon him imputations which he did not deserve. In preparing the following sketch of this eminent man, dates and facts of his early life, before his history became interwoven with that of our own country, with much information in relation to his pursuits since he retired from public life, will be accurately related. There are perhaps few individuals in the United States who are the sciences at the same university. The time usually allotted for the study of geology was, as he thought, more profitably employed in hunting-expeditions to East-Creek, and when examination-day came round, on this subject he was not particularly learned. Professor A looked upon geology with perfect adoration, and however wide of the mark a student's answer might be, his grave and solemn countenance gave no sign to the hapless examiner of the incorrectness of his response. Young gentleman,' said the Professor to P, 'You-will-describe-horne-blende,' a task as difficult for him as to describe the King of the Mosquitos. He tried it, however: 'Horneblende is a mineral, generally supposed to be a stone.' Here he hesitated, to give the Professor time to correct him if he was wrong. Judging from his unmoved features that he had struck the right vein, he dashed on: 'Of an animalcular consistency and infusorial form; unctuous to the touch; tertiary formation; slightly femiginous; of a spotted color; belonging to the triassic system of compound drift; and is usually found just below the crust of the palaeozoic rocks on Snake Mountain!' 'Anything more?' meekly inquired the Professor. No, that was all he recollected. 'Well, young man,' said he, gravely, if you should ever discover any article of the kind you have been describing, you stand a chance of becoming very celebrated, if you will only make it known. It was never hitherto supposed to exist, by the scientific world.' He was not marked higher than seventeen for this proficiency.- -SPEAKING of East-Creek, perhaps you are one of those bloody-minded men who sometimes shoot black ducks. If you are, leave 'old Long-Island's seagirt shore' and your friend HERBERT's fancy guns, and number-six shot behind you, and go with me next August to East-Creek. You shall see the 'birds' by hundreds, tame as a politician after he has lost an election. HIRAM BRAMBLE, the lord of the parts adjacent, shall be our oarsman. HIRAM has shot ducks and fished for pouts here, off and on, for the last fifty years, and a curiosity he is; wise in all things but books; ' on them he gives in.' I was treating HIRAM to a steak-supper after a hard day's hunting and harder luck last autumn, at which I noticed he did sorry justice to the smoking viands. What, HIRAM,' said I, 'through so soon? You have not eaten enough, have you?' 'Wal,' he replied, 'you have bin to college and ort to know all about such things, and I'm an ignorant man, and do n't know but leetle. Ef you think I haint eat enough, I'll begin agin.' Deferential this, but a mournful example of the ignorance of the lower classes, even in this favored 'ked❜ntry.' But in all seriousness, leave that bee-hive in which you are toiling, with its smoke-dried inmates, for a month next summer. Come up and spend it in 'God's first temples' with some friends of yours, who are none the less warm because they have never seen you, and their acquaintance has been only through 'KNICK.' It will add a year to your life.' . . . 'The Dignity of Non-Complaint' is the title of a passage which we find copied into our note-book, some four or five years ago. It is assigned to no author, nor can we recollect at this moment whence we obtained it. But whoever may have written it, it is replete with true philosophy, and is expressed with equal case and energy: "ONE cannot help admiring the spirit of the man who, on being asked if he had not been com. plaining lately, answered: 'I have been ill, but I never complain.' It were of course too stoical to be amiable, if one were to determine never to complain. Our social feelings go against so extreme a resolution, and announce that, as it is right to give sympathy, so it cannot be wrong, under proper circumstances, to ask it. But certainly it is only in special circumstances and relations that complaint is allowable or politic. The allowableness of complaint is determined by circumstances and relations. We may complain in the presence of those whom we know take an interest in us with less risk than we can in other company. We may more allowably complain of a common wo of hu manity than of some special personal evil. A man would not care to fret about a pricked finger to his wife, while the savage suffers unimaginable pains at the stake with an unmoved countenance; he may not stain with grief The death-song of an Indian chief.' To have been the victim of an influenza may be spoken of freely and dolorously, within moderate bounds; but it is different if we are only recovering from an affront or a slight, where our own selfrespect was alone concerned, because there sympathy comes less freely, if at all, or is liable to be mixed with no very reverential feeling. It is from a sense of this philosophy that those who complain about any personal vexation usually endeavor to take from its egotistic character by allying it to a public cause: "It is my turn to be slighted or slandered to-day; it may be yours to-morrow.' Or, 'Such attacks, though I care nothing for them myself, are reprehensible on general grounds.' And so forth. But such efforts are in reality a confession that there is something felt to be weak and unworthy, generally speaking, in complaint. . . Take for example the man of art; that is, the man who by the chisel, the brush, the pen, or the use of his brain and fingers for the production of music, works out results for the gratification and improvement of his fellow-creatures. If such a man finds his works neglected, will it improve his case to complain? Assuredly not. He may imagine there is some accidental or mischievous cause for the neglect, instead of his own deficiency of merit. But such suppositions, if expressed, only bring down ridicule upon his head. He may be severely handled by critics; but to complain of this, or attempt to put in something in arrest of judgment, or to retort upon the judge, can only injure him farther with the public. 'Perhaps the ultimate source of the good to be derived from non-complaint is its convenience to the general interest. Every one has his own woes; it is not, therefore, surprising that few feel aggrieved by hearing little of the distresses of their friends, however willing to give sympathy if complaint is actually made. It is, therefore, as good for us as it is dignified on the part of the sufferer, that he should trouble us as little as possible with his distresses. Having, as life and the world go, far more need to be associated with what is cheering and encouraging than with the reverse, we are⚫ unavoidably attracted to the train of the successful and self-helpful, the gay and buoyant, even without any regard to tangible benefits derivable from them, while the unprosperous are too apt to be left pining in solitude. It is human nature to give pity and succor to the latter when the claim is directly presented, but in all circumstances to cling fast to and idolize the former, as something good, tutelary and beautiful. For such reasons it must be that complaint, necessarily associated in our minds with infirmity, never can produce respect. So it must be that we admire, as the next best to success and greatness, the magnanimity which betrays not defeat or injury. Our thrilling reverence for him who suffers in silence is mixed with a thankfulness that, in the maze of our own special evils, we have not the addition of listening to, and administering to his. 'I would then recommend the principle of non-complaint as one which it is useful to follow, under certain limitation. To shut ourselves up in a stoical indifference on all occasions, were at once unamiable and unwise. To consult nothing but dignity on this point, were to become detestable. Much would we prefer the man, weak as a woman's tear, to him who stood perpetually in a marblelike rigidity, professedly superior to all grief. The fullest allowance is to be made on that side. And particularly would we insist that, in the domestic circle and among true friends, there should be a full communion and frankness on every passing trouble requiring counsel and assistance. Poured into a loving and kindred bosom, our griefs are sacred; reposing this confidence, we ourselves become objects of only increased tenderness. A disposition having regard to the happiness of others will at once perceive where to draw the line of distinction between what ought and what ought not to be complained of; between what is a proper subject for the condolence of others and that which would only unnecessarily vex and annoy them. We have all enough of sorrows of our own, without being unduly burdened with those of others; and, depend upon it, there is none more unamiable, or more generally shunned, than the fretful and querulous. Of troubles incidental to all, it is also to be admitted that complaint is legitimate, so far as it may lead to a remedy, or to a union of our common brotherhood in the bonds of sympathy. But undoubtedly, as a general rule, apart from these exceptions, there is much to be admired in non-complaint; the course pointed out alike by considerateness for others and respect for ourselves. And I would hold this as an apothegin never to bo swerved from; respecting all egotistic sufferings whatever, from great injustices down to the most petty annoyances and incivilities, cultivate the glorious power of bearing in silence.' A PLEASANT 'down-cast' correspondent sen ds us a 'batch' of legal anecdotes, several of which are very amusing. We annex a few: 'Some years ago a case was on - the sciences at the same university. The time usually allotted for the study of geology was, as he thought, more profitably employed in hunting-expeditions to East-Creek, and when examination-day came round, on this subject he was not particularly learned. Professor A looked upon geology with perfect adoration, and however wide of the mark a student's answer might be, his grave and solemn countenance gave no sign to the hapless examiner of the incorrectness of his response. 'Young gentleman,' said the Professor to P—, 'You will · describe-horne-blende,' a task as difficult for him as to describe the King of the Mosquitos. He tried it, however: 'Horneblende is a mineral, generally supposed to be a stone.' Here he hesitated, to give the Professor time to correct him if he was wrong. Judging from his unmoved features that he had struck the right vein, he dashed on: 'Of an animalcular consistency and infusorial form; unctuous to the touch; tertiary formation; slightly femiginous; of a spotted color; belonging to the triassic system of compound drift; and is usually found just below the crust of the palacozoic rocks on Snake Mountain!' 'Anything more?' meekly inquired the Professor. No, that was all he recollected. 'Well, young man,' said he, gravely, 'if you should ever discover any article of the kind you have been describing, you stand a chance of becoming very celebrated, if you will only make it known. It was never hitherto supposed to exist, by the scientific world.' He was not marked higher than seventeen for this proficiency.— -SPEAKING of East-Creek, perhaps you are one of those bloody-minded men who sometimes shoot black ducks. If you are, leave 'old Long-Island's seagirt shore' and your friend HERBERT's fancy guns, and number-six shot behind you, and go with me next August to East-Creek. You shall see the 'birds' by hundreds, tame as a politician after he has lost an election. HIRAM BRAMBLE, the lord of the parts adjacent, shall be our oarsman. HIRAM has shot ducks and fished for pouts here, off and on, for the last fifty years, and a curiosity he is; wise in all things but books; ' on them he gives in.' I was treating HIRAM to a steak-supper after a hard day's hunting and harder luck last autumn, at which I noticed he did sorry justice to the smoking viands. 'What, HIRAM,' said I, 'through so soon? You have not eaten enough, have you?' 'Wal,' he replied, 'you have bin to college and ort to know all about such things, and I'm an ignorant man, and do n't know but leetle. Ef you think I haint eat enough, I'll begin agin.' Deferential this, but a mournful example of the ignorance of the lower classes, even in this favored 'ked❜ntry.' But in all seriousness, leave that bee-hive in which you are toiling, with its smoke-dried inmates, for a month next summer. Come up and spend it in 'God's first temples' with some friends of yours, who are none the less warm because they have never seen you, and their acquaintance has been only through 'KNICK.' It will add a year to your life.'... 'The Dignity of Non-Complaint' is the title of a passage which we find copied into our note-book, some four or five years ago. It is assigned to no author, nor can we recollect at this moment whence we obtained it. But whoever may have written it, it is replete with true philosophy, and is expressed with equal ease and energy: 'ONE cannot help admiring the spirit of the man who, on being asked if he had not been com. plaining lately, answered: 'I have been ill, but I never complain.' It were of course too stoical to be amiable, if one were to determine never to complain. Our social feelings go against so extreme a resolution, and announce that, as it is right to give sympathy, so it cannot be wrong, under proper circumstances, to ask it. But certainly it is only in special circumstances and relations that complaint is allowable or politic. The allowableness of complaint is determined by circumstances and relations. We may complain in the presence of those whom we know take an interest in us with less risk than we can in other company. We may more allowably complain of a common wo of hu |