hand seized the art of combining together cambric and starch that the golden age of the cravat is dated. It was seen soon afterwards, a new Proteus, to accommodate itself to all the caprices of a vagabond imagination. It could at length receive, and preserve the most pure and the most varied forms. Certainly, he, who at first, folded a stuffed cravat, made a broad step towards illumination. He hath rendered a greater service than all the sects of economists and encyclopedists together, in compell ing all men to give themselves up, every morning, to a quarter of an hour's meditation upon combinations and calculations. It was this which gave to French genius a new direction. This change of ideas, this love of the positive and the true, in which our nation finds its glory, is a benefit due to the inventor of the stuffed cravat. Pity, that the name of this great man should still be a mystery to public gratitude The cravat is not only an agreeable ornament, but still farther a useful article of dress. The gentle warmth with which it yields facility to the play of the organs, renders the voice more sonorous and sweet, the countenance more fresh. Its application is useful in a thousand different cases; and without relating the last service which Pichegru obtained from his, in the prison of the temple, an anecdote, related by Dr. Pezis, will prove, that it is capable of a sublime devotion. I had just reproached, said he, a moment before, the brave General La Salle, then young, and sacrificing to fashion, the enormous volume of his cravat, The regiment which he commanded, charged, recoiled, charged anew, dispersed the enemy's cavalry, and came back to resume its bivouacs. They told me, that the Colonel had receiv> ed a pistol shot in his throat. I ran up to him, and they showed me a ball which had been caught in the foldings of that same cravat, the massiveness of which I had so much blamed. Two officers and some hussars had received sabre cuts upon theirs; and I was obliged to agree, that thick cravats were good for something.

In a literary point of view, the importance of the cravat is greater still. It is in some sort the ensign of genius. From the knot of the cravat, an exercised eye recognizes in a moment the calibre of the poet, and the coterie to which he belongs. If the academy hath its right and left shore, it is the cravat, which is the ensign for rallying; and I will pledge myself, that it is not without trembling under his pacific embroidery, that M. Auger sees the regular folds of his classic cambric grow paler every day, before the hardy ruff of the author of the Martyrs. Our neighbors, the English, attach a high importance to the art of arranging the cravat. Ten years ago, there was published at London, a large treatise, entitled cravati-ana. They prove in it the superiority of John Bull over all people wearing a cravat. The work obtained a pyramidal success.

A practical artist of cravats, hath recently published among us a treatise, in which is taught the theory of more than thirty special fashions of cravating. It is to these precious works, that we refer curious readers, for deeper instruction. For us, it suffices to indicate here, those forms of the cravat, of which usage does not allow any one to be ignorant. As in the royal cook book, we commence by-first get a cravat.' It is not allowa ble for any washer woman to dispense with folding it in advance. If, however, yours is a vandal, without science, or taste, fold your cravat yourself. Let it be well and duly stuffed. Fold the ends with different

purposes, the one from low to high, and the other from high to low, with the view, that in joining it behind your neck, they may not ruffle your dress. The cravat being so disposed, after the principles of art, reflect maturely on the probable employment of your day, for the tie ought always to be found in relation to the persons, the places and the times. The gordian knot is indispensable for a visit of preparation; the horse collar suffices for a hunter; the valise becomes a promenade, and the sentimental a ren dezvous. The American, the Byron, the mathematic, the oriental, the gastronome claim a preference, according to the occasion. Each hath its advantages and its merits. The white, plain cravat, is the only one admitted into full dress. All stripe, plaited, gathered in a point, as in a square, is of half full dress. The colored cravat, howsoever it may be, is only worn in an undress; as well as the black cravat, which the clerical or military man in uniform can alone introduce into the drawing room.

Of all the manners of disposing of the cravat, the most difficult, and at the same time the most widely extended, is the gordian knot. As the excellent M. Jourdain made prose, without knowing it, all the world inno cently ties this famous knot, which cost such infinite research and care to the inventor. In the perfect execution of this knot, the whole science is founded. Other methods are only derived from it. It is impossible, therefore, to lay too much stress upon thoroughly knowing the theory and practice of the gordian knot.

Let no one expect to find here a minute and detailed description. In these sorts of lecturings, it is to the eyes, that we must speak. We ought, however, to say, that the cravat, being arranged round the neck, the great object then remaining is, to make a flat knot, to bring the two ends upon the knot itself, smoothing them down, and fastening them, at the point of junction, with a pin. The reader, who knows properly to estimate this 'civil code,' is of course a man of taste. He knows, of consequence, how to arrange his cravat. So disposed, let him look in the glass. His cravat is a gordian knot.

The oriental cravat ought to be very small; the two ends, well stuffed, meet in a point at the two sides of the knot, and form a crescent. Thus cravated, the only difference between a Parisian and a Turk is, that the Turk carries the crescent upon his crown, whereas the Parisian carries the horns *

*

The American cravat is the simplest of all. When it is fixed round the neck, the two ends are brought before, and are passed, one over the other, simply to make a knot. The person is content to fasten them together with a pin.

The Lord Byron cravat, which, in construction, puts the hind part forward, and of which the two ends form a great knot under the chin, is one of the dangerous rocks of the class. Ridiculous in the city, it is wom in the country by very young people.

The cascade cravat ought never to be stuffed. Strongly stretched on a whale bone collar, arranged at one third of its length, so that one of the ends may much exceed the other, it is negligently put on. The knot made, they bring the end before, making the greatest fold possible. Grooms have found this cravat so much to their taste, that it is no longer seen, except behind cabriolets.

VOL. III.-No. 1.

6

The ball cravat is made out by the aid of a dozen pins. It has no knot, and the ends are passed under the straps. For the rest, it hath usurped its name, and no man of the world wears to a ball a ball cravat.

The gastronome cravat, narrow, without starch, negligently gathered in a flowing knot, has been a long time excluded from the eating hall. The people, who wore it into vogue, ought now to carry it round the arm, as a piece of crape.

A volume would be necessary to describe Irish, maratte, mathematic, portmanteaù, hunting, shell, jet d'eau, lazy, romantic, Talma, Russian, Jesuitical, diplomatic cravats, &c. &c. &c. One evening at the Bouffes, one night at the opera ball will learn the reader more, than a folio. With a spirit of observation, with hardihood, and precision, one may become an expert in a short time. Sight must never be lost of this grand aphorism. A cravat, which is not well put on at the first effort, ought to be sent with unpitying rigor to the washerwoman. It is good for nothing, like a dinner warmed over.

A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada. By FRAY ANTONIO AGAPIDA 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 630. Philadelphia, 1829. Carey, Lea & Carey.

So much has been said of this beautiful work, that any thing further at this time of the day upon the subject, might seem supererogation. We have not hitherto found a place for an extended review. Many of our readers see not the other reviews; and it is merely to recommend to them a work of surpassing interest, that we give this passing notice. Two of the most amusing books, that were ever written, Don Quixote, and Gil Blas, have their scenes laid in Spain. These books every body has read; and Spain, of consequence, has an interesting place in the thoughts of all light readers. Those who are versed in the history of literature, know, that Spain has been the nursing mother of poets, orators, philosophers and divines of the highest endowment, and the most brilliant genius, and when we consider the power of ignorance, bigotry and untoward circumstances, against which they had to struggle, the splendor of Spanish genius, which has burst forth so brightly from under the clouds, strikes us with surprize. We have never read a book which gives more lovely and impressive views of scenery, than Don Quixote. Spain is the country of beautiful valleys and mountains, the country where the productions of the tropical and temperate climates meet-the country, where romance was cradled, the country of the Moors, with all their splendid romances and feats of chivalry, the country of Ferdinand and Isabella-and the country of Columbus.

A more interesting period for the commencement of such a tale, as this before us, could not have been seized, than the era of the expulsion of the Moors. Ancient and modern associations are blended, and oriental and European interest unites in these scenes. The subject has not only the

source of exhaustless interest in itself, but seems exactly fitted to the genius, temperament and powers of our distinguished countryman, the author. The grandeur and amenity of that lovely country, the romantic and chivalrous characters of the age, the catastrophe, so striking and impressive, of the expulsion of the Moors from Spain, the former splendor of the historic page of that country, and its present humiliation and decadence, exactly fit the subject for the pen and the mind of the author.

To accommodate it still further to his powers, and to procure for it the last degeee of subjection to his disposition and skill, he has assumed the fictitious character of Fray Antonio Agapida, This allows him that ancient diction, that naivete and quaintness, that charm of simplicity, and that external resemblance to the style and manner of the ancient romances, which complete the interest of the book.

The period, too, is nearly cotemporaneous with the discovery of America by Columbus. In searching for materials for that work, the author would naturally be led to examine a great body of history and narrative, which would not only suggest the idea of this work, but furnish materials for it.

It is not our purpose to say one word about the splendid achievements, the affecting incidents, the blendings of the highest interest of romance and real history, which give splendor to this book. Such frequent abstracts have been before the eye of almost every reader, as to render this task wholly superfluous. We simply remark, that the history has all the splendor and magic of oriental romance, and the romance is so incorporated, and identified with history, as to receive all the vraisemblance and credibility of historic fact. Mr. Irving is completely at home in the subject. The winds whisper with the delicious drowsiness of sleepy hollow.' The rural scenery has the amenity of Bracebridge Hall. Deeds of chivalry are recorded with a pen of epic grandeur; and the whole work has a sustained interest and beauty, that inspires us with pride, as we write the author our countryman. It combines, in fact, the pith and moment of a whole mass of condensed Spanish and Moorish chronicles of the most interesting nature, has neither redundancy nor deficiency, possesses the regularity of a beginning, a middle, and an end, and take it altogether, will yield in interest to few, if any books of the present day.

[44]

Death's Doings, consisting of numerous original compositions in prose and verse; intended as illustrations of thirty plates, from designs by R. DAZLEY: author of Select Gems from the Antique, &c. Second London Edition, 2 vols. 8 vo. pp. 472. Boston, Charles Ewer,

1829.

THIS is a Boston re-print, most splendidly executed, with admirable engravings, having for prime object, no doubt, by this striking and original design, to make a book so out of the common track, as to take, and be saleable. But through this object, a more important one can scarcely avoid being discovered. Every human scheme is a bubble. Somewhere about every aspirant, visible only to the mind, Death grins horribly a ghastly smile,' laughing to scorn the fond and uncertain hopes of an hour, and shaking his dart in menace, as sure of his mark. These caricatures of human hopes and schemes are not, however, got up in the prosing form of a sermon, though the first plate represents death preaching a sermon ; but the author seems to have etched the whole design with a grin on one side of his face, and laughter in one eye, and mourning and tears in the other. It is a singular mixture of the ludicrous and the affecting, of the broadest caricature, and the saddest and most pathetic reality.

This is an age, in which these opposites strangely combine to comport with its genius; gigantic achievements in the way of triumph over nature; machinery every where taking place of human hands; the mysterious privacy of nature every where invaded by canals, rail roads, commerce and manufactures; the algebra of political economy, the reduction of every thing achievable by human power, to calculation, the daily increasing omnipotence of money, the great and the immense hiding of individual suffering and joy, and turning away the eyes from the sad undertow of things to these brilliant aud original undertakings; this predominant order of things has, as it seems to us, a peculiar tendency to call off our thoughts from the actual and existing condition of life, to turn away our eyes from individuality of character, to contemplate things in the mass, to diminish sensibility, to paralize the delicacy of mental perception, and to fix the eyes and the thoughts upon money, ambition, and pleasure, as the chief good. Whether this be the tendency of the present order of society, or not, it is a fact, out of question in our mind, that no preceding age ever manifested such an unfeeling love of the ridiculous and the absurd. It is the period of harsh ridicule; an age that prides itself in feeling for nothing, and caring for nothing, and laughing at every thing. Money is the God, and calumny and ridicule his worship.

What a train of singular sensations arises, upon entering a gallery of modern English and French caricatures! The infinite invention of the human mind is no where more curiously manifested. Imagine as many thoughts, positions, attitudes, physiognomies as you will, and you will have thrown upon your eye in a moment, a new creation of the ridiculous. No vagary of the human conception too outre to be set forth to the human eye; nothing too solemn to be rendered ridiculous! But