no lip at all, are found in misers; in such there is much caution and circumspection and distrust. The lips of some men are so very indistinctly traced, that, were it not for the change of color we could scarcely tell where either commenced; such people are sluggish in action, and undecided in character: but when we meet a firm, boldly-defined lip, as if a barrier were placed to guard the mouth from the upper parts of the face, there we find decision and mettle. Lips which, when the mouth is closed, present an undulating outline, are found in men of noble and generous minds-men of imagination often have them; such lips are generally upturned on each side, and denote an open, communicative mind. Thin lips, when the mouth is closed, almost always present a straight outline, with a slight inclination downward at either end, as if the lip looked at the chin, these universally accompany a taciturn disposition. It would be almost impossible clearly to explain the various shapes of the lips, even with drawings, much more so without them-these few disjointed scraps, must suffice for the present. Cross tells us, that those animals most famed for their cunning, as the fox, wolf, &c., have tapering jaws, and when contrasted with the cheek bone, are very narrow; and vice versa, with animals, gentle, kind, open, and unsuspecting. "Animals," he says again, "that are wise enough to keep from danger, or strong enough to defend themselves when attacked, have no cunning." It will be observed, that in all animals the brain is in an inverse ratio to the jaws; in other words, the jaws of all animals are large, in proportion as their brains are small-the greyhound, for instance, runs by the eye alone. Le Brun says that the eyebrows are the most expressive of the features. This we deny. Arched eyebrows do not denote deep thinking minds-they are oftener found in men than women: there is more fancy than thought in them-the Chinese have generally arched eyebrows. Short eyebrows, that is, having not much longitude, with the hairs growing irregularly, betoken an impatient, irracible, temper. Straight eyebrows, sometimes gently inclining upwards at the base of the nose, are oftenest found in thoughtful men. Philosophers have generally straight eyebrows, and not bushy. Light eyebrows and dark hair, we never find in an honest, honorable man. The eye is unquestionably the most expressive feature; it is the moral and mental thermometer. Its great variety of color-the countless changes which it undergoes-the various positions in which it is placeddescribing a straight line, or inclining upwards or downwards. The space appropriated to this article will not enable us even to glance at the eye physiognominally, and with these brief remarks we leave it for the present. Not to examine pictures or busts, and describe the particular traits of character in the illustrious or ignoble dead-physiognomy should be devoted to a nobler end; it should and will teach those skilled in its rules to shun folly and vice, and cling to wisdom and virtue. Like metaphysics, physiognomy is not one of the exact sciences, and we believe will never be reduced to mathematical precision; it must rank among the inexact, and so long men will affect wisdom enough to contest its laws and deny its principles, perhaps, because their faces scanned by its rules would not confirm their outward seeming-or perhaps that to decry it is fashionable. But these will not avail with the searchers after truth. A science, inexact, though it may appear to many, may not in reality be so. Every face is as it were, a page in the great book of nature, and the life of man is not sufficiently long to read even a millionth part of the volume. Old Theophrastus, at the age of one hundred and eight, regretted the shortness of life, "for," said he, "I have lived just long enough to see the path to knowledge, and as it opens to my view, I must sink into the grave." He was a physiognomist. AUTUMN TWILIGHT IN CAROLINA. With what a quiet glory sinks the day By the trim vestal queen, soaring aloft, How silent, yet how beautiful-now winds O'er earth and the blue arches; till they glow The southern hurricane too rudely blow- But where the sun sets even in a smile, The moon quick stealing on his steps the while, THE PHANTOM HAND. BY ROLEY M'PHERSON. "Her should Angelo have married, was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed, between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother was wrecked." "I did not for these ghastly visions send, SHAKSPEARE. "Kill men i' the dark! Where be these bloody thieves? DRYDEN. SHAKSPEARE. THERE is truth in these pages, strange and hideous as it may appear; and, should it meet the eyes of some now living, they will start at its resemblance to a dark deed, which, some twenty years by gone, drove them from their own country to find a refuge in a land which, they hoped, their shame would never reach. In the county of Tyrone in Ireland, a little to the side of the high-road leading to Donahady, there stands, almost hidden by the shrubbery, the ruins of a cottage. The doors grate on their rusty hinges when the wind blows upon them,-green moss covers the roof,-the sides have fallen in with the decay of years,—the path which once led to its happy entrance is choked up by dank weeds, and there is the blight of desolation upon the spot, as if the avenging arm of Heaven had laid a curse upon its very atmosphere. It is a bold heart that will approach this blasted ruin after nightfall. None but bats and owls flit through its deserted avenues; and the traveller, if he be a good Christian, crosses himself as he passes its blanched walls. A dark wood looms up behind these ruins; and within its shades there is a grave stone, from which the bold querist, whose anxious curiosity might lead him to its examination, would learn nothing but that it marked the resting place of the dead. The fingers of decay began their slow tracings upon the cottage when that grave was opened. It was a clear bright moon that shone upon the path of two happy creatures, as they walked up the avenues leading to Selwin Cottage, now smiling in the moonbeams; around their path green shrubs glowed in all the fresh luxuriance of spring, and the verdant floor that carpeted their way, was glittering with new fallen dew drops. The female figure of this pair was a delicate, graceful, person, just merging into womanhood; clusters of dark hair floated unconfined upon her shoulders, and, as she turned her half blushing face towards her partner, the moonlight fell upon a countenance beaming with intelligence and love. It was a face peculiarly expressive of womanly tenderness; there was a fond depending softness in its look, which seemed to argue a love that confidently reposed upon a full exchange of the same emotion from the being upon whose arm she leaned. His figure was tall and manly, there was all the buoyancy of hope and youth in his step; and, as he gazed upon the fair creature at his side, there was a curl of lofty pride upon his lip as he gloried in, while he fully returned, the confidence of the bright spirit beside him. "Then you are resolved, dear Alice, that your brother's opposition shall be no bar to our happiness?" "Indeed it shall not. His objections will, I hope, cease to-morrow, when I, dear Fitz, shall have informed him of your uncle's bounty." "Forgive my doubts-but I fear his pertinacious obstinacy-let me call it by its right name-surely I have enough of this world's goods for all our need-my family, he knows, are his equals; but his favoritism for O'Neil may induce you❞— "Speak not of him. The wretch who sought to win my love by basely slandering his friend, may seek a heart more congenial to his own than mine can ever be. Come in, Fitz." They entered the cottage, and were met with a warm welcome by the mother of Alice, who, seated by the fire-light, seemed roused by their entrance from sorrowful meditation; her eyes were red with weeping, and a falling tear was hastily wiped away from her withered cheek. The half lighted apartment did not discover to the new comers the figure of another individual, who, as they entered one door, glided slowly out at the other. As the fire flashed upon the countenance of this person, it lighted up the countenance of a man writhing in scorn and indignation, and mingling with demoniac expressions of anger, a look of such savage threatening, that, had Fitzgerald caught it, his heart, bold as it was, would have quailed within him. "Pray where is Michael, mother?" inquired the gentle Alice, as she drew her chair close to her parent's side. "He was here but now. Alas, my daughter! and you, good master Fitzgerald! I do fear much your nuptials will be far from happy." "Does my brother still persist ?" "Alack! Alack!" "What ails you, mother?-Speak, I pray you-has Michael dared to threaten, because you have favored our wishes?" "Not me-not me. He has been a wayward boy-wilful, it is true, and stubborn, from his earliest years; since the lawsuit for the recovery of our estates has gone against him, he has been more proud, more fierce, than ever; but yet, I hope, he is not so far lost to all sense of filial duty, as to threaten me-) -No, no, it is not me!" I "Who then, good mother, is it me?" "Yes, Fitzgerald, 'tis you and yours; even now, as you entered, the profane boy swore in my presence by the holy Mary-may God forgive him-no priest of mortal mould should say amen to the sacrament that made you one; and too well know I his stubborn spirit, to doubt but he will keep his oath." "Were he other than he is, the brother of my Alice, this threat would never move me-his opposition reason cannot sway. If I cannot pride myself upon a lineage as honorable as O'Neil's, I can at least boast a heart as noble, and a name as unsullied. But we will foil him yet. Let us hasten these nuptials-say to-morrow night-Father O'Reilly will await us, at nine, in the chapel-Michael, you know, will be at the meeting at Abercorn-and, for the reconciliation, leave that to me.-These will prove but empty vaporings after all-besides, Alice will inform him of my uncle's death, and the increase of my fortune; if this fail to move him, then let the bond, I say, be sealed to-morrow night, and leave the rest to me—what say you, mother? Alice will you forgive this haste?" "Be it so, my children; and may the good saints give you happiness!" As Fitzgerald imprinted a farewell kiss upon the hand of Alice, a half hidden blush told him how far this sudden haste was accordant with her wishes. It was a wild moor-a dreary waste-and the black clouds looked down upon it in scowls, which only seemed more sullen, as the moon, in fitful glances, shot her beams through their changing apertures. A high road lay along one side of this common, and a deep wood, black with age, and scathed in many places by the lightning, bounded it to the east. Far removed from the habitations of men, and secured from observation by the deep shades of that dismal forest, it was just the spot which a highwayman would have fixed upon, if about to choose a safe and convenient lurking place. It seemed laid out by the evil one as a fit practising ground for the dark and desperate deeds of his children. As the moon occasionally gleamed through the thick clouds, it fell upon the figures of three men, who were standing in close and earnest conversation, upon the borders of the wood. The tallest of the three wore a dark shaggy coat, the collar of which almost covered his eyes, and served as a sort of mask to the lower part of his countenance: this person had an air of command, and appeared to be the leader of the party. There was a dark expression of rage that shot lowering and impatiently from his eyes, as they occasionally surveyed the waste before them, or cast wistful glances at the solitary road. "Not coming yet-by the Holy Mother-his heart fails him, and the craven lingers from his bonnie love." "It's a bad night, your honor, and may be he dont care to risk his toilet in the mush of the moor, and the sky looking as black as Fingal's Mouth; but its myself 'll be saving him the charges of clane linen after this night, any how." 66 'Whist, Handy," cried the third, "save your powder 'till you put up the game." “Faith, Mr. O'Neil, saving your prisince, you'll find I have a charge of |