you are perfectly right. When your scholars have completed their education, what have they learned? Schoolmaster. To chatter about every thing, and understand nothing. FOR THE MASONIC REGISTER. MASONRY AND EDUCATION. MR. EDITOR, I have heard, that among the first great moral duties inculcated in the noble science of freemasonry, none are more strongly enjoined on every professing member of the craft, than the education of youth, and cultivation, management, and control of the mind. And in one of the books given to the world by the profession, I have read, in a lecture explaining the meaning and use of certain emblems, symbols, or working tools of masons, the following remark :— "The mind, like the diamond in its original state, is rude and unpolished; but as the effects of the chisel on the external coat, present to view the latent beauties of the diamond, so education discovers the latent virtues of the mind, and draws them forth to range the large field of matter and space, to display the summit of human knowledge, our duty to God, and to man." From this, sir, I take for granted, that the instruction of the rising generation is a task inseparably connected with the duties of masonry; although I am not, myself, one to whom the lecture containing the above extract, could be professionally addressed. And I therefore presume, that your "miscellany" may not improperly be made the repository of articles, or matter, on the subject of education; a subject that comes home to every man's thoughts and feelings, whether he be one of the initiated or not, provided he is a parent, or a man to whom every thing relative to humanity is interesting. Homo sum, et humani a me nil alienum puto. Being, Sir, frequently visited by loose thoughts on modern customs and manners, and occasionally on the different species of quackery among which the arts of pedagogues I think may be justly classed, I was led to inquire after a suitable vehicle for their delivery, and by the result of my examination, am induced to offer you some of my desultory and incidental remarks on men, manners, or literature, which I may be inclined to make. The connection of masonry with the liberal sciences, I have always understood to be established; and indeed, that it is on the latter, that the former is grounded, and its fabric or institutions erected. And of all the liberal sciences, what is more worthy of so distinguished an appellation, than the art, science, or mystery of education. As I intend this, however, merely as an introduction, I shall add but a few more observations. And now, sir, among all your readers, enlightened or unenlightened, I would ask if one might be found, to explain to me the following singular fact, viz. the reason why the second person singular is called, in the grammars and spellingbooks, thou, instead of you, as it is commonly spoken? I always conceived the use of printed grammars to be, to teach people how to speak our language correctly; and that the nearer we conform to the directions of the books, the more closely we approach the standard of perfection in our speech. A schoolmaster directs his pupil to learn and recite from his grammar, "I am, thou art, he is," and if he repeats his lesson exactly, tells him," you are right!" Hearing the same pupil, in the street, say we am, and you am, to his playmates, he checks him for his ignorance, asks him if ever he read such expressions in any book, and bids him speak as he is taught at school. Now, which of the authorities at school is he to follow, thou art, in the book, or you are, from the mouth of the teacher. I have often wondered that the compilers and publishers of grammars, so generally fall into this practice, and print thou art, while they speak you are, without the distinction made by Webster, in giving both, of thou being used in the solemn, and you in the familiar style. That Lindley Murray, a member of | fessed grammarian, and make no claim to any thing more than an ordinary share of common sense on things in general. The point occurred and was touched en passant, and not as an instance of "quackery"—and upon this point I only ask for elucidation. PHILOM. PATHETIC LETTER, husband. MY DEAR HUSBAND, the society of Friends, who use the From a deserted wife to a faithless solemn style altogether, should have adopted the stiff and awkward phrase, because it was the peculiar custom of the religious sect to which he belongs, is not so strange; as the greatest minds have some weak parts; and Murray's system, though superior to others in many particulars, might still be expected to leave some blemishes in it, for succeeding writers to correct or improve. Yet, he should have recollected that he was not framing a vocabulary for a quaker meeting, but compiling a system for a community, not one in a hundred of which use the phraseology he has directed. And if he had not remembered, or chosen to attend to the fact, his printers, editors, and publishers, should have done it for him, in a note, explanatory of the right use of the words in question. I who had expected your return from with painful anxiety, who had counted the slow hours which pa.te you from me-think how I was shocked at learning you would return no more, and that you had settled with a mistress in a distant state. It was for your sake that I lamented. You went aganst my earnest entreaties: but it was with a desire, which I thought sincere, to provide a genteel maintenance for our little ones, whom you said you could not bear to see brought up in the evils of poverty. I might now lament the disappointment in not sharing the riches which I hear you have amassed; but I scorn it. What are riches, compared to the delight of sincere affection? I deplore the loss of your love. I deplore the frailty which has involved you in error, and which conduct must) terminate in misery. But I mean not to remonstrate. It is, alas! too late. I only write to acquaint you with the health, and some other circumstances of myself and those little ones, whom you once loved. But of all others, I am most astonished that Mr. PICKET should have adopted so gross an absurdity or anomaly, in the excellent system of school-will, I am sure, (as such mistaken books of which he is the author or compiler. That one who has done more for the advancement of education than all other men in this country since the appearance of Webster, and framed and published a set of classbooks confessedly superior to any yet produced in England, should write ite thou, and say you, is to me quite unaccountable. Let its learners, its friends, or its plunderers, defend or explain the book if they can. This brings me back to my original purpose, which is, to inquire after the reason of this practice. I may be wrong in my notions; as I am not a pro The house you left me in could not be supported without an expense, which the little sum you left behind, could not well supply. I have relinquished it, and have retired to a neat little cottage, thirty miles from town. We make no pretensions to elegance, but we live in great neatness, and, by strict economy, supply our moderate wants with as much comfort as our desolate situation will allow. Your presence, my love, would make the little cottage a palace. Poor Emily, who has grown a fine girl, has been working a pair of ruffies for you; and as she sits by my side, often repeats with a sigh, "when will my dear papa return?" The others are constantly asking me the same question; and little Henry, as soon as lie began to talk, learned to lisp, in the first syllables he uttered, "when will papa come home?" Sweet fellow, he is now sitting on his stool by my side, and, as he sees me drop a tear, asks me why I weep, for papa will come home soon. He and his two brothers are frequently riding on your walking-cane, and take particular delight in it because it is papa's. I do assure you, I never open my lips to them on the cause of your absence. But I cannot prevail upon myself to bid them cease to ask when you will return, though the question frequently extorts a tear, (which I hide in a smile) and wrings my soul, while I suffer in silence. I have taught them to mention you in their morning and evening prayers, with the greatest ardour of affection; and, they always add of themselves, a petition for your speedy return. I spend my time in giving them the little instruction I am able. I cannot afford to place them at any eminent school, and do not choose they should acquire meanness and vulgarity at a low one. As to English-they read alternately, three hours every morn ing, the most celebrated poets and prose writers; and they can write, though not an elegant, yet a very plain and legible hand. Do not, my dear, imagine that the employment is irksome. If affords me a sweet consolation in your absence. Indeed, if it were not for the little ones, I am afraid I should not support it. I think it will be a satisfaction to you to hear, that by retrenching our VOL. II 3 expenses, we are enabled to pay for every thing we buy, and though poor, we are not unhappy from the want of any necessary. Pardon my interrupting you. I mean to give you satisfaction. Though I am deeply injured by your error, I am not resentful. I wish you all the happiness you are capable of, And am, Your once-loved, and still INTEMPERANCE AND GAMING. There are few vices to which men are more addicted than those of gaming and intemperance-vices which sink them below the level of brutes, and make them a disgrace, and a nuisance to society. When we see men carousing at the midnight revel, and wasting their time at the gaming table, spending the earnings of a hard day's labour in drunkenness and debauchery, and, most of all, undermining their constitutions, and hurrying themselves to the grave, we hesitate to think whether such men deserve most our pity or our censure. How many persons have set out in the world, with the most favourable prospects, and the best of dispositions, whose hearts were the seat of virtue--humane, generous, and affectionate-kind to their friends, and beloved by all with whom they had intercourse-but alas! how soon the mirror has been turned! how often these promising appearances have proved delusive! how often have their promises through life been blasted in the bud, merely through the influence of loose and corrupted passions; and have sunk down in the end to be a nuisance, and a burden! how often is the peace of families destroyed by this curs ed intemperance! Where once dwelt concord, now discord reigns in all its force-where virtues swayed, now vices rule. At our first setting out in life, when our passions are unguarded and easy to be allured-when every object is brightened over with the gloss of novelty, and every pleasure has its sinile : it is then we ought to guard ourselves against the seducing appearances that surround us, and recollect what others have suffered from the power of headstrong desire. It is in youth that we must govern our passions, so that we may carry ourselves smoothly through life, and recollect, that, "intemperance engenders disease, sloth produces poverty, pride creates disappointments, and dishonesty exposes to shame;" that "the passions of men betray them into a thousand follies, their follies into crimes, and their crimes into misfortunes." A. W. A. CONSOLATION TO BEREAVED PA RENTS. A correspondent has allowed us to take the following extract from a letter of condolence, which he has recently received from a friend, on the subject of his late affliction, in the loss of a favourite, and only son, whose death was noticed in our last number. The poetry, we believe, is quoted from the British Quarterly Review. Thinking that it will not be uninteresting to any of our readers, and that it will be peculiarly gratifying to all who have been bereaved of their infant offspring, we have thought proper to give it a place in the Register; believing that HE who said, "suffer, little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven," "will in no wise cast them off." SIR-When, on hearing of your recovery so far as to return to New-York, I contemplated writing you, my first impression was, that my letter must necessarily be a mixture of congratulation on the subject of that event, and of condolence on that of the death of your dear little George Henry; but a few moments reflection led to the following conclusion, that however painful may have been the separation from the child, there were considerations to the mind of a Christian, which seemed to preclude the indulgence of grief and condolence upon the latter event, and to inspire only joy and congratulation. We know so little of the heart of man, that when we stand by the grave of him whom we deem most excellent, the thought of death will be mingled with some awe and uncertainty; but the gracious promises of scripture leave no doubt as to the blessedness of departed infants: and when we think what they now are, and what they might have been; what they now enjoy, and what they might have suffered; what they have now gained, and what they might have lost; we may indeed yearn to follow them; but we must be selfish indeed, to wish them again constrained to dwell in these tenements of pain and sorrow. The dirge of a child, which follows, embodies these thoughts in a more beautiful order and language: "No bitter tears for thee be shed, Blossom of being! seen and gone! Yes, thou art gone, ere guilt had power That never felt a storm! Thou wast so like a form of light That Heaven benignly call'd thee home, Ere yet the world could breathe or blight O'er thy sweet innocence: And thou, that brighter home to bless, Art pass'd with all thy loveliness. O hadst thou still on earth remain'd, We rear no marble o'er thy tomb; No sculptur'd image there shall mourn, Ah! fitter for the vernal bloom Such dwelling to adorn; Fragrance, and flowers, and dews must be The only emblems meet for thee. Thy grave shall be a blessed shrine, Adorn'd with nature's brightest wreath; Each glowing season shall combine Its incense there to breathe ; And oft upon the midnight air Shall viewless harps be murm'ring there. And oh! sometimes, in visions blest, THE FAN. The uses of this little female ornament, are well described in the following extract from 'Letters from Spain,' published in the New Monthly Magazine, No. 5. A showy fan is indispensable, in all seasons, both in and out of doors. An Andelusian woman might as well want her tongue as her fan. The fan, besides, has this advantage over the natural of speech, that it conveys organ thought to a greater distance. A dear friend at the farthest end of the public walk, is greeted and cheered up by a quick tremulous motion of the fan, accompanied with several significant nods. An object of indifference is dismissed with a slow, formal inclination of the fan, which makes his blood run cold. The fan now screens the titter and whisper; now condenses a smile into the dark sparkling eyes, which take their aim just above it. A gentle tap of the fan commands the attention of the careless; a waving motion calls the distant. A certain twirl between the fingers betrays doubt, or anxiety: a quick closing and displaying the folds, indicates eagerness or joy. In perfect combination with the expressive features of my countrywomen, the fan is a magic wand, whose power is more easily felt than described. "A correspondent writes us, that it is a well known fact, the male musquetoes do not sting; it is only the females that suck the blood. Query-are not some of our ladies who draw blood from their servants, female musquetoes ?” |