some one whose interest in their welfare,-shallow though it has been, has won their hearts, and made them look upon him as a second father. Time may part them, and long years glide away, yet the impressions of infancy continue; the name of him they used to love is ever present to their mind-his kindness to their recollection. They are once more on the eve of meeting: the young man, with ardent hopes, expects again to see his patron, and experience new instances of his regard; his heart beats as he approaches nearer; at last he rushes forward, grasps with warm energy the hand that is presented;-but no answering pressure does he find—he is almost forgotten! the visions of the past are fled, never to return! the warm blood, coursing through his veins in animated flow, rolls back; his heart sinks within him!-the destruction is as great as when the fell hurricane, or the dread typhoon, by one roaring blast, lays prostrate with the ground the pride of the forest, and sweeps, with the besom of destruction, o'er the land!

Who, in the heyday of youth, has not felt all his hopes blighted, and his dreams of future happiness destroyed, by a formal shake from the hand of a lady, in whose company he had been, and in whose heart he fondly thought he had secured a place? We have hygrometers, hydrometers, saccharometers, and balosimeters, and a measure of the feelings too;

The shake, the shake's the thing.

We may now proceed to consider the etiquette of shaking.

We must bear in mind that modern society has established this as a mark of friendship or esteem; and this will render it easy to know when the hand should be given and when withheld.

Is it to be practised on introduction? Suppose the person to whom we are presented has previously been unknown to us; one of whose principles and character we have received no information, and into whose presence it is not probable we shall frequently be thrown, I apprehend we shall not offer him the right hand of fellowship, unless as a compliment to his introducer.

Under different circumstances the case will be altered. Here, the ceremony of presentation is the prelude to a closer intimacy; an intimacy that is expected to be the source of much gratification. The characters of both are perfectly known: a cordial shake is given; and few are the minds which will not feel from it, as plain as words could speak,-we understand each other.

It often happens, too, that individuals are frequently thrown together, and, without any formal introduction, converse freely upon various topics, as if they had long been known: yet they are simply acquaintances for the time, being at perfect liberty to continue the intimacy, or not, as circumstances dictate. If it should be that, on further knowledge, from the gradual development of character, (the necessary consequence of prolonged association,) a more close friendship is desirable, there is no occasion for the intervention of a mutual friend; the rules of etiquette are not so strict. A mutual presentation of the hand, and a cordial shake, supplies the place of introduction, and far more effectually. The Arabs will not injure or neglect a man with whom they have eaten salt; nor ought two friends, who have exchanged this mark of fellowship, to allow any but the most urgent circumstances to part them.

The question next arises, Who is first to present the hand? In cases of equality, I apprehend this will ever be done by the most warm-hearted; but where there is any real, or fancied difference in the situation of the parties, the superior will make the first advance, because it is for him to choose on what footing he will continue the acquaintance. The same remark holds good, more especially with regard to ladies; for as we must wait, on meeting them in the street, for some mark of recognition, before we presume to bow; so must we wait, on meeting them more nearly, for some movement on their part, before we give this mark of friendship. Some difference will, of course, arise, when from any circumstance we consider we have a right to demand it.

We must, of course, on inviting any one to our house, shake hands with them; a contrary behaviour would be unpardonable and rude in the highest degree, amounting, unless circumstances explained it, to downright insult.

It is a conventional mark of friendship and goodwill; therefore practised in many cases, where, unless it passed, one might reasonably conclude the very opposite feelings existed. Thus we see two powerful champions stripped to the waist, like the Olympians of old, exhibiting to a crowd of eager gazers an appearance of strength surpassing that of other men, their brawny muscles developed, and every limb as firmly knit as are the joints of the celebrated Hercules, before they set to work and try who can hit the hardest blows, and most disfigure and annoy his

antagonist, shake hands most cordially, to show that no enmity exists as says the old

song

"They first shake hands before they box,

Then give each other plaguy knocks."

The poor culprit too, who, in an hour of strong temptation or ungoverned fury, made himself amenable to the penalty of death, when he stands upon the stage about to take his last farewell of sublunary objects, to launch into that eternity from which there is no return; when he sees the dark grave yawning to receive its victim, and the inhuman crowds that stand around, to see his dying agonies; even then shakes hands with him who is to be the fatal instrument of his destruction. He sees the cord, the running noose, the gallows-tree, and the black night-cap in the hand of the executioner, all waiting for their victim. He gives his hand, and grants pardon ere it is asked; the last act of friendship is the last act of life.

We will, before we close our paper, offer some hints as to the best method of shaking, for it is exceedingly awkward to do so simple a thing in an ungainly manner. We know a case where

a pupil went to ask some question of a distinguished professor. The master extended his hand, the pupil did so too; but from some unaccountable impulse, both were withdrawn ere they had joined; they were again extended, and this time they met, but in a manner so clumsy, that the professor received a severe scratch, the pupil a nearly dislocated thumb.

The hand and arm must be extended rapidly but carefully; the thumb a little separated from the fingers, to act as a kind of stopper, lest the wrist should be grasped by mistake; the hands being then locked, as those appear

"On Hand-in-Hand Insurance plates."

We leave to each individual, as their temperament may dictate, to give what shake they list. The hearty-the cold-the twofinger-the pump-handle-or the squeeze. Resting sure that whichever they adopt, they cannot do it so gravely, as they will shake their heads, at the presumption of their

Most obedient Servant,

VOL. I. NO. I.

E

T. I.

THOUGHTS FROM LESSING.

THE SPARROW AND THE OSTRICH.

"PRIDE thyself as thou wilt on thy size and thy strength," said the Sparrow to the Ostrich; "after all, I am more of a bird than thou. Thou canst not fly; now I can, though my flight be not high nor of long duration."

The light poet of a merry bacchanalian strain, or of a little love song, is more of a genius than the unsoaring, earth-bound writer of a long Hermanniad.

ORPHEUS.

ORPHEUS, as the story goes, went in search of his wife to the infernal regions. Where but in the infernal regions should the wife of Orpheus have been sought?

They say he went down singing. Of that I have not the smallest doubt, for, so long as he was a widower, well might he be rejoiced and sing.

Mountains, rivers and stones followed the course of his harmony: had he sung badly they would have followed nevertheless.

And when, having arrived below, he told what he came for, all tortures ceased. What torture would one desire beyond the sight of a husband so ridiculously stupid!

At length his voice moved the deaf kingdom of the shades :but was it as a reward or a punishment that he carried his wife back with him?

MEROPS.

"I HAVE a question to ask," said a young Eagle to a learned Owl. "They say there's a bird, called Merops, who, when he rises into the air, flies tail foremost, with his head towards the ground. Is that true?"

"No," replied the Owl; "that is a silly invention of man. He himself may be such a Merops; for he would be too happy to fly up to heaven, without leaving the earth for an instant out of his sight."

THE MUSIC OF THE BELLS.

In the stillness of a summer's evening I have oftentimes listened with peculiar pleasure to the music of our village bells; the only sounds to tell of man, to break a teeming nature's silence. There is a witching melody in their soft measured tones, which sweetly accords with her tranquillity, adding a new and placid charm to the sacred evening of her rest.

What

And who can listen to their varied tones unmoved? mind, with their soft murmuring, can fail to associate that venerable pile to which their notes invite, that fabric whose foundation is in heaven?

Varied and many are the recollections their peaceful tones awaken. Time was when darkness reigned supreme, and cruelty dwelt in our midst; when the wailings of an oppressed people, the unholy sports and foul revellings of a dissolute nation, reechoed from her lofty hills and resounded in her valleys; when nature knew no day of rest.

Again, they bid us think of brighter days, when the light of knowledge broke through an empire's gloom; when the words of truth and love found utterance in "the habitations of cruelty;" when the burden of the winds was changed, and the whisperings of adoration and praise were wafted heavenwards from the heathclad mountains and the lowly retreats of the valley.

And shall not now the ear listen with delight, and the eye behold with admiration, and the tongue with grateful raptures tell the inestimable benefits which have gone forth from that sacred institution-the palladium of our beloved country?

The times are changed: the black clouds of darkness have rolled away, the voice of threat is no longer heard, the groanings of the oppressed are stayed; and what do these bells say now?

They bid us hasten to the house of prayer, from the rising even to the setting of the seventh-day sun. They tell the lapse of time, and remind us of battles fought and victories won, claiming a passing tear for those who have bled and died in their country's service. They remind us, too, of times when youth and hope were beautiful and bright, of ties formed on earth to be unloosed in the grave; in solemn and sadly-falling tones, they speak of the silent tomb.