He was always laughing-ostensibly-and absolutely breathed his last, to my knowledge, with a broad grin. His countenance never was sober, in the usual sense, but I am confident nothing like a pleasantry ever occurred to him, omni-mouthed as he was. A very pretty niece of his had another way with her. I saw her fainting in great pain on his arm once at a party, and was about offering my hartshorn. How excessively amusing!' whispered she, without observing me. She had been laughing. The old gentleman remarked rather drily, that three people had made the same blunder the same evening, and positively cursed the day he was born, with the veriest comic face I ever beheld, which left no doubt of his vexation. The mechanical laugh is more common. may see it performed at any dull dinner-party, like an alarum, at every miserable stale joke of the landlord. My collegechum used to enact it in his sleep, by the hour--and the Freshmen in the same entry, at such times, frequently called for a cup of hot coffee. They mistook the laugh for the grinding of a coffee-mill, which we kept in the wood-closet.

You

Now that I have broached this matter of laughing, I will introduce the contents of a paper on the subject, which was picked up the other day in the streets. I do the less harm by the liberty, inasmuch as it was evidently drawn up for publication by the unhappy sufferer whose case it describes.

To the Editor of the

DEAR SIR, I see various complaints are frequently made through your columns from various correspondents. You will pardon me, therefore, I trust, for the liberty taken in the present instance. It is more than possible you may be able to give me suitable and useful advice; and at all events, it will be a pleasure to me to vent my afflictions. I am immoderately addicted to a propensity which has occasioned me great inconvenience. Not to intemperance-for I drink nothing but weak chocolate; nor to lying, except lying a-bed; nor to any other flagrant vice-but laughing. You will stare, perhaps. It is nevertheless true that this habit has been a great trouble to me and no small mortification to my friends. I laugh inordinately, in all cases whatsoever, wherever I may be, when the fit is on me; and of this, I have no warning. It comes upon me, sometimes in bed, and sometimes in church. I interrupted a funeral service the other day with a broad laugh, just as they were depositing the mortal remains of my grandmother, good woman, in the grave. It was impossible to prevent it. I have no control over the muscles used in the operation of grinning. It comes upon me like a fit of sneezing, when a man has caught a slight coldwith the slightest provocation. I alarmed my whole household last night about one o'olock-being a landlady, nineteen boarders, three white cooks and two negros,-with a violent outcry which they mistook for an alarm of murder. I was reading Blair on the Grave. The worst of it is, it prevents me from going into society. I offend and disgust every body who is not aware of my foible, and not unfrequently have my own feelings injured. A clergyman entertained me at a party the other evening with telling me how his mother died of the apoplexy. The poor man shed tears-and I took to laughing so violently as to carry away a considerable part of my unutterables, and burst my stays with a noise like a blunderbuss. "Poor man," said a by-stander, "he's

crazy." ." "Oh! no!" said another, "he's drunk-he is very often in this state." The fact was, a joke of Joe Miller had occurred to me at the moment. I had drunk nothing but swipes for twenty-four hours. I could go on, but it is only exposing myself. You have the cue, and I beg of you to take my malady into serious consideration.

Your humble servant,

ARCHELAUS CANINE.'

TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS.

CONSIDERABLE has been written upon politeness; but the subject is by no means exhausted. It is a theme in which all classes of men ought to be interested; and there is a want of matter particularly adapted to the wants of the various orders of society of which our country is composed.

I take it, that if a man is, in the true sense of the word, polite, he is not only qualified to associate with the best society on this planet, but is possessed of the accomplishments requisite to an introduction into that world whose society is free from all the imperfections incident to this state of existence. For a man cannot possess true politeness of heart, without treating his Maker and the universe in a manner that will render him in one sense deserving of such an introduction. The remarks of Hurd on True and False Politeness are worthy of being transferred to the pages of the Essayist:

True politeness is modest, unpretending, and generous. It appears as little as may be; and when it does a courtesy would willingly conceal it. It chooses silently to forego its own claims, not officiously to withdraw them. It engages a man to prefer a neighbor to himself, because he really esteems him; because he is tender of his reputation; because he thinks it more manly, more Christian, to descend a little himself than to degrade another. It respects, in a word, the credit and estimation of his neighbor.

The mimic of this amiable virtue, false politeness, is, on the other hand, ambitious, servile, timorous. It affects popularity is solicitous to please, and be taken notice of. The man of this character does not offer, but obtrude his civilities, because he would merit by his assiduities; because in despair of winning regard by any worthier qualities he would be sure to make the most of this; and lastly, because of all things he would dread, by the omission of any punctilious observance, to give offence. In a word, this sort of politeness respects, for its immediate object, the favor and consideration of our neighbor.

Again: The man, who governs himself by the spirit of the Apostle's precept,' expresses his preference of another in such a way as is worthy of himself; in all innocent compliances, in all honest civilities, in all decent and manly condescensions. On the contrary, the man of the world, who rests in the letter of this command, is regardless of the means by which he conducts himself. He respects neither his own dignity, nor that of human nature. Truth, reason, virtue, all are equally betrayed by this supple impostor. He assents to the errors, though the most pernicious; he applauds the follies, though the most ridiculous; he sooths the vices, though the most flagrant, of other men. He never contradicts, though in the softest form of insinuation; he never disapproves, though by a respectful silence; he never condemns, though it be only by a good example. In short, he is solicitous for nothing, but by some studied devices to hide from others, and, if possible, to palliate to himself, the grossness of his illiberal adulation.

Lastly; we may be sure, that the ultimate ends for which these different objects are pursued, and by so different means, must also lie wide of each other.

Accordingly, the true polite man would, by all proper testimonies of respect, promote the credit and estimation of his neighbor; because he sees, that, by this generous consideration of each other, the peace of the world is in a good degree preserved because he knows that these mutual attentions prevent animosities, soften the fierceness of men's manners, and dispose them to all the offices of benevolence and charity; because, in a word, the interests of society are best served by this conduct; and because he understands it to be his duty to love his neighbor.

The falsely polite, on the contrary, are anxious, by all means whatever, to procure the favor and consideration of those they converse with; because they regard, ultimately, nothing more than their private interest; because they perceive, that their own selfish designs are best carried on by such practices; in a word, because they love themselves.

Thus we see, that genuine virtue consults the honor of others by worthy means, and for the noblest purposes; the counterfeit, solicits their favor by dishonest compliances, and for the basest end.'

NEGLECT FROM THE WORLD'S VOTARIES.

Thou art an arrow

Sent from the bow that's drawn by Providence
To pierce vain hearts; and we may learn from hence,
"T is well to harrow

Minds that will not be taught by softer measures-
And to deprive them of their fancied pleasures,
When they are vain

Enough to think that all that shines is gold,
And that the heart by outside show is told.
"T is well to chain

Him who would ever with the moon be racing,
Or evening shadows over mountains chasing.
Few ever stumble

Over the rocks neglect throws in their way,
When they are blinded not by passion's sway,
And are but humble;

For on the good man's path God's sun is glowing,
And by its side a heavenly streamlet flowing.
He who doth part

With wisdom's teachings, and bow at the shrine
Of envy, will oft feel a serpent twine
Around his heart,

And sting him till he feels that earth's vain hopes
Are little better than a hang-man's ropes.

Give me the man

Who knoweth well the depth of his mind's ocean,
What winds should give its noble surface motion-
And one who can

Consent to see a white gull fly above him,
And not repine because she does not love him.

FRANKLIN, JR.

CONVERSATION.

WE think the following remarks taken from the volume of Old English Prose Writers will be found interesting to our readers.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.

By the use of the tongue, God hath distinguished us from beasts, and by the well or ill using it we are distinguished from one another: and therefore though silence be innocent as death, harmless as a rose's breath to a distant passenger, yet it is rather the state of death than life. By voices and homilies, by questions and answers, by narratives and invectives, by council and reproof, by praises and hymns, by prayer and glorifications, we serve God's glory, and the necessities

of men; and by the tongue our tables are made to differ from mangers, our cities from deserts, our churches from herds of beasts, and flocks of sheep.

TALKING тоо MUCH.

I have heard that all the noises and prating of the pool, the croaking of frogs and toads, is hushed and appeased upon the instant of bringing upon them the light of a candle or torch. Every beam of reason and ray of knowledge checks the dissolutions of the tongue. But, ut quisque contemptissimus et maxime ludibrio est, ita solutissimaæ ligua est, said Seneca: Every man as he is a fool and contemptible, so his tongue is hanged loose, being like a bell, in which there is nothing but tongue and noise.

TALKING FOOLISHLY.

No prudence is a sufficient guard, or can always stand in excubiis still watching, when a man is in perpetual floods of talk; for prudence attends after the manner of an angel's ministry; it is dispatched on messages from God, and drives away enemies, and places guards and calls upon the man to awake, and bids him send out spies and observers, and then goes about his own ministries above: but an angel does not sit by a man, as a nurse by the baby's cradle, watching every motion and the lighting of a fly upon the child's lip and so is prudence; it gives rules, and proportions out our measures, and prescribes us cautions, and by general influences, orders our particulars; but he that is given to talk cannot be secured by all this; the emissions of his tongue are beyond the general figures and lines of rule; and he can no more be wise in every period of a long and running talk, than a lutenist can deliberate and make every motion of his hand by the division. of his notes, to be chosen and distinctly voluntary.

SCURRILITY, OR FOOLISH JESTING.

Plaisance, and joy, and a lively spirit, and a pleasant conversation, and the innocent caresses of a charitable humanity, is not forbidden; plenum tamen suavitatis et grati sermonem non esse indecorum, saint Ambrose affirmed: and here in my text our conversation is commanded to be such that it may minister grace, that is, favor, complacence, cheerfulness; and be acceptable and pleasant to the hearer: and so must be our conversation: it must be as far from sullenness, as it ought to be from lightness, and a cheerful spirit is the best convoy for religion; and though sadness does in some cases become a christian, as being an index of a pious mind,