trees, and to command a view of the sea, and neighbouring islands. The lower stories are granaries and storehouses, and the habitable apartments are all at the top, to which you ascend by a stone stair, built, for the most part, on the outside, and surrounding the tower, so that from the apartments the trees are overlooked, and the whole country is seen, while the habitations themselves, which are very numerous, peering above the groves, add life and variety to the enchanting prospect, and give an air of human population to these woodlands, which might otherwise be supposed the regions of Dryads, of Naiads, and of Satyrs, But the charms of this delightful spot have so far transported my imagination, that I have almost forgotten the subject of which, in this essay, I meant to treat, and which is no other than a remarkable and singular custom of this island, peculiar, I believe, to itself, and, as far as I know, never yet detailed by any traveller. The women here seem to have arrogated to themselves the department and privileges of the men. Contrary to the usage of all other countries, the eldest daughter here inherits, and the sons, like daughters every where else, are proportioned off with small dowers, or, which is still worse, turned out pennyless, to seek their fortune. If a man has two daughters, the eldest, at her marriage, is entitled to all her mother's possessions, which are by far the greater part of the family estate, as the mother, keeping up her perogative, never parts with the power over any portion of what she has brought into the family, until she is forced into it by the marriage of her daughter, and the father also is compelled to ruin himself by adding whatever he may have scraped together by his industry. The second daughter inherits nothing, and is condemned to perpetual celibacyShe is styled a Calogria, which signifies properly a religious woman or nun, and is in effect menial servant to her sister, being employed by her in any office she may think fit to impose, frequently serving her as waiting maid, as cook, and often in employments still more degrading. She wears a habit peculiar to her situation, which she can never change, a sort of monastick dress, coarse, and of dark brown. One advantage however she enjoys over her sister, that whereas the elder, before marriage, is never allowed to go abroad, or to see any man, her nearest relations only excepted, the Calogria, except when employed in domestic toil, is in this respect at perfect liberty. But when the sister is married, the situation of the poor Calogria becomes desperate indeed, and is rendered still more humiliating by the comparison between her condition and that of her happy mistress. (To be continued.) For the Lady's Miscellany. we may consider it but a phantom to amuse the mind. To consider things as they are; to throw off the veil, and to behold the primitive realities, makes me sensible, that the much strove for palm, riches, are fleeting; that The following are the reflections of a young man, found among a number of his manuscripts in his trunk, who some few months since fell by the hand of suicide, according to the most rational conjecture, from the circum-grandeur and the world's applause, stances attending his death, these were his thoughts, which he penned the eve previous to his committing the fatal deed. They are given to the public without any alteration, in order that they may see the effusions of a mind sickened with this world, and by a series of re. Rection, the imagination wrought pon to that degree, as to influence a person to terminate his own existance. M. Debemur morti nós, nostraquè. We and ours' are doom'd to death. HOR. THIS life, is one of those sad scenes, when thoroughly contemplated, makes men doubt. To weigh the good and ill that we enjoy in reason's scale, adds melan" choly to despair. It shews that all our pleasing enjoyments are so transient and scarcely perceivable, that we just have time to taste, and they are gone-As if they never were. Misfortune is unpleasant in her turn, and presents many an ugly picture to our view; and even prosperity, so desirable, with all her charms, so smiling and alluring, is so brief and uncertain, that is but merely fancy's bubble,-useful but short time at best; for all must find a grave. What is the solemn dirge of death, to the ear of clay? Or the plaudits of the world, to the manes of the dead? They serve for naught. Why then, continual striving? 'Tis God's behest, and must be obey'd. But is none the less unreal; for soon if nature continues immutible, we all shall quit fancy's scenery, for a more solemn farce. Then the wise, and the foolish, the monarch and the slave, the rich and the poor, will in famė, power, and wealth, be equal. Ah! ye ambitious few.-Leaders of the world-tho' your enjoyments be ere so great, you must soon fall off, giving your postéritý the token, and they theirs in return, all to be envolved in one common mass. But this futurity-this after death so much talk'd of-is I trust, what you nor I, know but little of-not only that, but to enhance the doubt, the wisdom of the world vary in conjecture. conjecture. But-if one messenger, from behind the curtain of death, cou'd peep in to this scene of mortality, he might unfold the mystery. Ah! that wou'd soive the mighty doubts, and stop the wonder.--Chimerical! Impossible!-No, we are left to guess it out. Oh! that the Omnipotent had not said, that we shou'd not go; but must wait to obey his callthat he had not fixed a cannon so sacred, that mortals in a sad moment, may not o'erstep to ease the load of life. But here Why this prelude? while my resolve is fix'd? since - self-determination has said, conscience, do not be a coward, nor let manhood fail, or shrink from a purpose that is so firmly fram'd. Nowe'en now-at midnight's solemn hour, when all is hush'd; as chaos before nature had a form,vations which the former writer this lump of clay-the habitation of that unextinguishable spark ; the soul-tho' in full vigor, by the hand of nature fed; contains a mind so frantic and sick with the toys and follies of an uncandi world, that wou'd spurn an invitation for a stay-but in a few hours to see and know-what mortals thought very justly due to the author of Chatterer No. I. Antistius will be acknowledged on all hands, a species of composition to be not easily understood, even with our strongest exertions to supply the visible defects of the author. With that tinselled display of solicism which so frequent cannot surmise, for we who o'er-ly designates the most superficial step the bourne, shall n'er come back to give, the hint; but leave you in such fear and doubt, that is best for beings whose nature is so frail. Having thus written, Hic mea novissama cogitationes expirunt. HOR. Here my last reflections expire. M. mind, is added a destitution of the rules that would be necessary to compose the low and grossest Bellingsgate. On turning to the very first sentence, this is easily perceivable, and Censor would point out the deficiency, did the small space allotted him in this paper, permit, and besides, to cleanse an Augean stable, his ambition aspires to something mors exalted. Censor, however, will notice one passage, because it is "Tis a passion that urges on its vo taries to deeds of dreadful note-accus toms him to scenes, which makes ev'n bandits tremble, and finally precipitates him, down the dread abyss from whose bourne no traveller returns." exemply gratia one would be in- It is matter of some astonishment to Censor, that the pronoun "us" instead of we, of Censor, did not come in for its share of philo Bravo one would imagine that Antistius had filched a good part of Abaleno's soliloquy to answer the most worthy of purposes-namely, that of defending his quandane Chat. against this tartarean Censor, and in the height of his zeal would even be guilty of a plagarism and think it a mere pius fraus.logience drubbing. I shall only But gentle reader it is Antistius's, the product of this worthy author's own sorry brain! It was the exordium to one of his crazy Collegeed to have been printed us, every exercises, written after being rid den by the night-mare, when his eyes were not just "op'd to the moon," and he yet imagines himself straddled by the devil.. Censor is charged with grammatical inacuracy. This is indeed a consideration of some magnitude, against one who has assumed to himself the Tiara of criticism, and tho words exemply gratia, are particularly pointed at by this cream remark, with regard to this slight deviation from grammatical accuracy that the word us, was design one who has ever listened to the conversation of Chat. will comprehend the reason why this derrogation was suffence. One word upon the comparative merits of Chatterer and Antistius. and I have done. Every one who will peruse the former piece, will. acknowledge with me, that it is the product of a young man of that kind of genius, while he may be compared to a heterogenous quar of a gramarian, Antistius, as un-ry, through which the rays of scisavourly nauseous to his squeamish stomach, but even the manner in which the above author treats poor ence has never been permitted to shine, and which requires the hands of a master to polish, before it will be capable of undergoing || the scrutiny of common inspection. By frequent reading of the best moddels of English literature, and a much more frequent exercise of the pen, sub silentio (which by the bye, should not yet be permited to come before the public) he may attain to something like intelligibility. Antistius is a writer of less natural judgement than Chat. but more artificially refined. Chat. by the aid of a miracle, may yet become a writer. Antistius has attained his climax of perfectionand yet is insufferably imperfect. A certain mudinness of intellect is conspicuously characteristic of the latter and the aid of education is in vain called in to assist his natural benightedness of a chaotic mind Yours, respectfully, CENSOR. Mount Pleasa Long-Island. For the Lady's Miscellany. EULOGY ON WINE. [By OPAY Myco, an Indian King of the Little Tallassee Country.] WHEN I consider the variety of evils that nature has thrown in the way of man, while a resident on this changeable theatre, the world we inhabit; I cannot possibly blame him for having availed himself of some of those choice extractions from the fruits of the ground, which put a new soul into him, and bid him for a time no only to forget the miseries of his condition, but also to encourage him to look forward to those abodes of joy, where the measure is continually full, and no one, who ever tasted, could say, "The quantity is diminished.' What an insignificant thing is this world to me, if I am forever restricted to the use of water!This element leaves me as it found me, a poor insipid creature, destitute of all elevation, as well as incapable of great designs or actions worthy the arm of valour. son. The end and design of man is happiness. Hence then, ye cold moralists, who upon the uncertain speculations of futurity, would abride our joys of the present seaWhen a man departs hence, he is MAN no more. His pleasures will be no longer those of a inan, but of a creature existing in some other mode of being. Let me then, in my own proper nature, while here, enjoy those pleasures, which are the peculiar portion of humanity. The time will come, when the liquor, which now sparkles in the bowl, will avail me nothing.They shall place the full bottle by my side, but it shall yield me not a ray of consolation ! Yet poor is the man, who in using this good thing, converteth it to an evil purpose. Such is our Brother TUSKENALAH, or the Big |