And my cap so, and so my shoe and hat;
"It is the style" you say-why that may be ;
But why such style? you cannot tell," that's flat."
Dress is the spirit of the age corporeal !

Sometimes 'tis "l'esprit solide," sometimes "gloriole."

It was the fashion once as you all know,

To wear stick heels and powder and brocade,

Now this was hieroglyphical to show

The mind on stilts and formally arrayed

In others' manufacture-all was so

Stately and stiff; the mind and dress both made
For courts and courtiers only to be used;
By common people both would be abused.

Then simple thought and dress came in together
In that Emporium of both "Belle France."
The same age saw pomatum, powder, feather,
And the Bastile demolished-at a glance,
Toupees went off with heads. Now whether
They thought them symbols, and that 'twould advance
The cause of Freedom, thus to change the Fashion,
I do not know; but thus they long did dash on!

When Kings threw off their royal purple dress,
Their majesty went too, with these externals,
And their corporeal part became, I guess,
What the conundrum has it. The diurnals
Soon found, that in those ermine robes, no less

Than in the man, was royalty—the journals
Made war on privilege, and shirts with ruffles,
Which led to riots and to horrid scuffles.

When they dethroned their rulers, then their hair
Was "a la Brutus"-male and female head
Both cropp'd--and Madame Tallien, the fair,
Who lectured to the learned-when she read
She dressed quite masculine, and had the air
Of the most noble sex, and all she said

Was just like what she wore-which clearly shows
She thought there was some meaning in her clothes.
And when against the Turks rose up the Greeks,
Why then all heads, we know, were "a la Grec."
And this thing lasted, I believe, for weeks,
And curls were flowing o'er each graceful neck
For Greece and not for beauty! He who seeks
To know the hobby of the day, and spec-
Ulate on what is coming, need but know
The latest Paris mode and what's "the go!"

And thus you see, that Fashion is symbolical.
It is an art, a science, quite profound;
Its characters are always metaphorical,
In which the spirit of the Age is found,
And, if you will not think me tautological,
And in my words see less of sense than sound,
I'll say again, that dress is hieroglyphical,

And hats and caps and SLEEVES are ideographical!

THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.

BY THE REV. JONATHAN MAXCY, D. D.

THE nobler part of man clearly evinces this great truth that there must be a God uncaused, independent and complete. When we consider the boundless desires and the inconceivable activity of the soul of man, we can refer his origin to nothing but God. How astonishing are the reasoning faculties of man! How surprising the power of comparing, arranging and connecting his ideas! How wonderful is the power of imagination! On its wings, in a moment, we can transport ourselves to the most distant part of the universe. We can fly back, and live the lives of all antiquity, or surmount the limits of time, and sail along the vast range of eternity.

*

*

This great Being is every where present. He

exists all around us.

Wherever we turn, his

image meets our view. in the ocean, in the air, in the sun, moon and stars. We feel him in ourselves. He is always working round us; he performs the greatest operations, produces the noblest effects, discovers himself in a thousand different ways, and yet the real God remains unseen. All parts of creation are equally

We see him in the earth,

under his inspection. Though he warms the breast of the highest angel in heaven, yet he breathes life into the meanest insect on earth. He lives through all his works, supporting all by the word of his power. He shines in the verdure that clothes the plains, and the lily that delights the vale, and the forest that waves on the mountain. He supports the slender reed that trembles in the

breeze, and the

Far in the wil

sturdy oak that defies the tempest. derness, where human eye never saw, where the savage foot never trod, there he bids the blooming forest smile, and the blushing rose open its leaves to the morning sun. There he causes the feathered inhabitants to chant their wild notes to the listening trees and echoing mountains. There nature lives in all her wanton wildness. From the dark stream that rolls through the forest, the silver-scaled fish leap up, and dumbly utter the praise of God. Though man remains silent, yet God will have praise.

*

*

When you survey this globe of earth, with all its appendages; when you behold it inhabited by numberless ranks of creatures, all moving in their proper spheres, all verging to their proper ends, all animated by the same great source of life, all supported at the same great bounteous table; when you

behold not only the earth, but the ocean and the air, swarming with living creatures, all happy in their situation; when you behold yonder sun, darting a vast blaze of glory over the heavens, garnishing mighty worlds, and waking ten thousand songs of praise; when you behold unnumbered systems diffused through vast immensity, clothed in splendor, and rolling in majesty; when you behold these things, your affections will rise above all the vanities of time; your full souls will struggle with extacy, and your reason, passions and feelings, all united, will rush up to the skies, with a devout acknowledgment of the existence, power, wisdom and goodness of God. Let us behold him, let us wonder, let us praise and adore. These things will make us happy. They will wean us from vice, and attach us to virtue.

1795.

TO THE AUTUMN FOREST.

BY WILLIAM J. PABODIE.

RESPLENDENT hues are thine !

Triumphant beauty-glorious as brief!

Burdening with holy love the heart's pure shrine,
Till tears afford relief.