From chamber far, his airy car
The sportsman brings;

No sorrows far, his joys to mar,
As in he springs.

At break of day he takes his way
O'er Pampas wide,

Nor broad-spread bay, nor lake delay,
His course of pride.

The deserts bare and rivers fair
Behind are cast;

Through realms of air, his buoyant chair
Like lightning pass'd.

Anon he'll soar where rain-clouds pour
Their torrents down;

And thunders roar o'er mountains hoar
And frighted towns.

Surpris'd, aghast, the eagle fast
Can mount no higher;

The Mammoth vast to earth is cast,
In bis fierce ire.

The giant Roc soon feels the shock
Of swift-sped dart;

His arrows mock the Phoenix flock
In their death-smart.

The Dodo rare, long sought with care,
With spear he sticks;

And down from air, on polar bear,
He comes like bricks.

"The song was rapturously encored by the whole company, and repeated with new spirit by the author. "It is a beautiful effusion," said Edward. "Admirable !" replied Aurelia; "particularly the last stanza.” Why," said Sydney, "I don't know which most to admire, the metre or the language. How elegantly he sticks his spear in the Salamander, and how he comes down upon the bear like a pile of bricks." "How expressive! how emphatic! Don't you think so, dear Di?" observed Evelyn, caressing her little pet. "That stanza, I must confess," said Philomath, "is my favorite; 1 am particularly proud of the bricks." "They must have astonished the bear. You must have been in a magnetic trance when you wrote it," said Edward; "and talking of magnetism, reminds me of a circumstance that you may not all be aware of. It is contemplated to establish a bureau of Clairvoyance at the seat of government. The suggestion comes from Senator Drowsy, and I have no doubt will be adopted, although strongly opposed by the metaphysical abstractionists, who contend that it will be a violation of the original compact, and subvert the independence of the states. But they are in too small a minority to defeat the law, and when it is fairly in operation, ours will be the best-informed government in the world." "I am surprised," said Louis, "that it has not been adopted before. Every judicial establishment has for many years had a clairvoyant judge, who habitually sleeps on the bench; and we all know how useful it has been to f the police in ferreting out rogues and detecting crime." "Oh!" said Aurelia, "let us have done with the government and Senator Drowsy. I am tired of politics. Let us talk of something else. Were any of

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you at Mrs. Allspice's ball last night ?" "I was," said Sydney, "and was bored for a good half hour by Engineer Muddy, who penned me up in a corner, and compelled me to listen to an account of his new mode of making water run up hill, thereby superseding the expense of canal locks. After which I made my escape with the loss of a button." "How I pity you," said Aurelia. "I then danced with a young Allspice, who has just come out." "What is she like?" said Evelyn. "Does she dress well? How does she dance? Is she handsome?" "Four questions in a breath," replied Sydney, laughing; "and very moderate, too! And now I will answer them, dogmatically and categorically, as Justice Dogberry says, in one of the obsolete plays. Firstly, she is like what she is, the raw daughter of a millionaire, fresh from school, and redolent of bread and butter. Secondly, she dresses well, so far as mere money, without taste, goes. Thirdly, she has more heels than head, and dances as if she had a strengthening-plaster on each ankle; and fourthly, and lastly, she is a plump little person, with red cheeks, a voluble tongue, and teeth that look as if they could do good dinner service. I danced with her at the request of her venerable sire, whom I have often dandled on my knee when an infant, and delights the heart of her worthy old mother." "Like yourself," said Edward, "always kind and considerate." "Well, for my part," said Aurelia, "I seldom go to these modern parties. I cannot endure the heated atmosphere and crowded rooms, which are too small for the accommodation of the guests. It was not so in the good old times!" "Nor," said Philomath, "the desperate rush to the suppertable, as if the people had not eaten in a fortnight. It was different in our day!" "And look at the grotesque tufts of hair," observed Edward; "and bushy beards, with which the men disfigure their faces !" "And the white cravats," said Louis, by which the servants were distinguished in 1846. Ah! times have sadly changed." "All this is true," kindly interposed Sydney; "but we should not be harsh. It is unjust to institute a comparison between the present and the past. Society in 1846 was highly refined, and particularly intellectual. Then everything was of the highest and first order-the finest and best quality. The gentlemen were all refined, and the ladies accomplished. The vulgarities that now obtain, would not then have been tolerated. Every hostess then consulted the convenience and comfort of her guests, collecting together the most refined and intelligent; beauty and grace, intellect and wit, adorned her saloons. There were then no pitiful displays of wealth, ostentatious exhibitions of vulgar taste. The language and the manners were equally refined. The tufted beard was peculiar to the Italian fiddlers of the day, and the white cravats the distinguishing badge of the attendant menials. The desperate rush of the modern Hungarians to the supper-table would not have been tolerated, and the indelicate dancers from the minor theatres at Paris would have been frowned down at once. In those bright days married ladies, distinguished for beauty and intellect, were not cast into the shade by sylphide misses; and foreign adventurers and commercial underlings, were unable to obtain admission into fashionable families. Society in 1846 was highly refined and exquisitely polished, and it may be termed the golden age of social intercourse. Then our houses and our clubs were not polluted by the scrapings of the broker's shop, nor disfigured by the sweepings of the warehouse." "Ah! how true it is," said Edward Langling, "that the past is always considered better than the present. The good old times are always the theme of panegyric, and the present day the subject of censure. When you condemn the social defects of these times, you forget, Sidney,

no

all that science and learning have accomplished Let me direct your attention to the improvements in medicine, in literature, and in mechanics. The pathology of the present day elicits general admiration, and the clinical lectures of Doctor Moretalk are admired by all who read them. Endemial diseases are almost unknown, and the necrological almanacs are languishing for want of materials. Since the discovery of the perpetual motion, water privileges have become valueless, and windmills fallen into disuse." "Well," interrupted Aurelia, "notwithstanding these instances of scientific and mechanical improvement that you have cited, it cannot be denied that there has been a general and sad falling off in all the amenities and courtesies of life." "I agree with you," observed Philomath; "the manners and morals of the present day are essentially inferior to those of 1846. Look at the public press, and what is it? Immoral in conduct, and subservient in character. The Political Dolphin, which changes its colors every day, and the Democratic Centipede, which is slowly creeping into notice, are the mere representa tives-the one of a vulgar, monied-aristocracy, and the other of an illiterate mob. They both pander to the worst passions of the human heart, while the Diurnal Vulture is a mere chronicle of scandal of the lowest order. Such presses would never have been tolerated by our virtuous contemporaries of 1846." "You are severe, Mr. Philomath," said Evelyn; "but I have always noticed that when you gentlemen once get upon the subject of politics, you invariably become dramatical and intolerant. Let us, then, talk of something else." "With all my heart," said Louis, "for I have the same dislike that you entertain for politics, and have as little penchant for struggling factions and hungry editors as any man living. It is a sad waste of time and conscience to interfere with them. Life has too many charms, and holds out too many employments to men of education and refinement to justify their interference with matters of this description. An hour in your society, ladies, is worth more than all the honors that mob popularity can confer." "Thank you for the compliment !" said Aurelia; "and now let me ask you whether you still continue your attendance at the gymnaseum in Pizarro-street? I was there this morning, and was much amused for an hour or two. I saw you there, Sidney; how do you like the antipodeal feats ?" "They are admirable," said Sidney; "and I was also greatly pleased with the Polka gyrations." "Heavens!" exclaimed Aurelia, interrupting him, and looking at the watch in her finger-ring, "it is one o'clock; nineteen hundred is upon us, and I must be up bright and early to-morrow to receive my visitors. We must now separate, my friends." "It is, indeed, time," said Edward; "I have several hundred calls to make to-morrow, and the wings of my car want feathering." "Then we must

part," said Louis; "but we will see our dear hostesses again in the morning, and in the evening, we gentlemen will meet at the Chinese Café, of Chop Meen Chong, and enjoy our usual feast. Au revoir, dear friends!