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Nick, your relation!' The smugglers comply with Rory's direction, save in the last Irish clause; the locking in and bringing the key being necessarily confided to other hands. The mere reader, who may not be counted among the tens of thousands who once heard the lamented PowER in this character, will find it difficult perhaps to appreciate the rich burlesque which characterizes this ludicrous story in the hands of Rory O'More; but all who have seen the play represented on the stage will thank us for recalling to their minds a scene which in its inception, progress, and dénouement, was not less effective than the best in which POWER Won the universal suffrages of American theatre-goers.

THERE is a class of synonyms in English, which deserve more attention than has usually been paid to them. We refer to words which were once identically the same, and which of course present the same etymology, but which by usage have now acquired a difference of signification. The nature and causes of such difference are well explained by a correspondent in the examples which follow:

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1. BALM: Heb. basâm; Arab. balsâm; Gr. Búhoaμov; Lat. balsamum; Ital., Span., and Portug. balsamo; Fr. baulme and baume: in several popular acceptations: 1. the name of a fragrant tree or shrub; 11. its juice or sap; 111. any fragrant ointment; and iv. whatever mitigates pain.

BALSAM: immediately from the Greek and Latin, in more definite scientific acceptations: 1. the name of a plant producing an unctuous resin; and 11. the unctuous resin.

2. BASE: Gr. Buois; Lat. basis; Ital. and Span. base and basa; Portug. and Fr. base: the bottom or foundation in various physical and technical senses.

BASIS: immediately from the Greek and Latin. 1. in the same acceptations as base; and 11. in a more refined metaphorical sense, as the basis of all excellence is truth. NOTE. In other cases, these redundant forms are used without any difference of signification: as, ellipsis and ellipse; periphrasis and periphrase; phasis and phase.

3. CAPTIVE: Lat. captious; Provenç. caitiv; Ital. cattivo; Span. cautivo; Portug. cativo; Fr. captif; fem. captive: made prisoner, enslaved.

CAITIFF: Fr. chaitif and chetif: vile, roguish; immediately from the Ital. cattivo, a rascal, villain. 4. CORD: Gr. 7ood; Lat. chorda; Ital. corda; Span. cuerda; Portug. corda: Fr. corde; a string or small rope; also a quantity of wood originally measured with a cord.

CHORD: immediately from the Greek and Latin; the string of a musical instrument; also a technical term in music and in geometry.

5. COMPLEMENT: Lat. complementum; Ital., Span., and Portug., complemento; Fr. complement; fullness, or that which fills up.

COMPLIMENT: Ital. complimento; Span. cumplimiento; Portug. comprimento; Fr. compliment; also from the Lat. complementum, an expression of civility.

6. CUSTOM: Lat. consuetudo, gen. -inis; Provenç. cosdumna and costuma; Ital. consuetudine and costume; Span. consuetud and costumbre; Portug. costume; Fr. coustume and coutume: habit, usage. COSTUME: Fr. costume; from the Ital. costume, a technical term in painting, for mode of dress, etc. 7. FLOWER: Lat. flos, gen. floris; Ital. fiore; Span. and Portug. flor; Fr. fleur: a blossom. FLOUR: from the same Latin and French words; the edible part of corn, or the finest part of grain pulverized.

8. FLOURISH: Lat. floresco; Ital. fiorire, pres. fiorisco; Span. and Portug. florecer; Fr. florir and fleuvir, gen. florissant and fleurissant: to thrive.

FLORESCE in florescence, effloresce, inflorescence: immediately from the Latin; used in a peculiar botanical, chemical, or medical sense.

9. GATE: Germ. gat; Anglo-Sax. geat or gat; from ga, to go: a way, passage.

GAIT: merely a different orthography for gate, a manner of walking.

10. GENTLE: Lat. gentilis; Ital. gentile; Span., Portug., and Fr. gentil: well born, mild.

GENTEEL: with French accent; well bred, polite, graceful.

GENTILE immediately from the Latin; in an ecclesiastical sense, a heathen, pagan.

11. GRACE in graceful; Lat. gratia; Ital. grazia; Span. gracia; Portug. graça; Fr. grace: elegance, dignity.

GRATE in grateful; more resembling the Latin, gratitude.

12. HUMAN: Lat. humanus; Ital. umano; Span. and Portug. humano; Fr. humain: relating to man. HUMANE with French accent; kind, tender.

13. HYPERBOLE: Gr. 178930); Lat. hyperbola; Ital. iperpola; Span. hiperbole; Portug. hyperbole ; Fr. hyperbole the name of a rhetorical figure.

HYPERBOLA: Span. hiperbola, with Latin termination; the name of a conic section.

14. LOYAL: Lat. legalis; Ital. leale; Span. and Portug. leal; Fr. loyal: faithful to a prince or superior. LEGAL: Span. Portug. and Fr. legal: immediately from the Latin; relating to or according to law. 15. Nor: compounded of ne, not, and aught, any thing; comp. old Germ. niowiht, compounded of ni and iowiht; Anglo-Sax. nawiht, compounded of ne and awiht: a word expressing negation, denial, or refusal.

NAUGHT OF NOUGHT: retaining more of its etymological signification; 1. nothing; 11. of no worth, worthless.

16. NATIVITY: Lat. nativitas: Ital. nativita; Span. natividad; Portug. natividade: Fr. nativité : birth. NAIVETE: Fr. naiveté; also from the Latín nativitas: natural simplicity, naturalness.

17. OF: Sansc. apa; Gr. άnó; Lat. ab; Goth. af; Anglo-Sax. of: a preposition denoting from, or

out of.

OFF: the same word used as an adverb.

εις,

18. ONE: Gr. eis, yía, ev; Lat. unus; Goth, ains; Germ. ein; Anglo-Sax. an: single in number. AN or A: the same word feebly enounced or accented, to enable the stress or force to fall on the following word, thus becoming what is usually called the indefinite article.

19. ORAISON OF ORISON; Lat. oratio; Ital. orazione; Span. orazion; Span. oracion; Portug. oraçaō; Fr. oraison: a prayer.

ORATION: immediately from the Latin; a public discourse.

20. PARABLE: Gr. Tagaẞok: Lat., Ital., Span., and Portug., parabola; Fr. parabole: a continued metaphor in the form of a narrative.

PARABOLE: the same word less perfectly Anglicized; a similitude, comparison.

PARABOLA with Latin termination; the name of a conic section.

21. PENITENCE: Lat. pænetentia; Ital. penitenza; Span. and Portug. penitencia; Fr. penitence: repentance.

PENANCE: from the same Latin and French words; pain voluntarily undergone for sin.

22. PIETY: Lat. pietas; Ital. pieta and pietade; Span. piedad; Portug. piedade; Fr. piété: affection, devotion.

PITY: Fr. pitié; also from the Latin pietas: compassion, sympathy.

23. PLAINTIVE: Fr. plaintif, fem. plaintive; from Lat. plango: lamenting.

PLAINTIF: from the same Latin and French words; one who commences a suit in law.

24. ROYAL: Lat. regalis; Ital. regale and reale; Span. and Portug. real; Fr. royal relating to a king; also magnificent.

REGAL: Fr. regale; immediately from the Latin; relating to a king.

REGALE with French accent; the prerogative of monarchy.

REAL OF RIAL: Fr. reale; from the Span. real: the name of a Spanish coin.

25. SEIGNIOR: Lat. senior; Ital. signore; Span. señor; Portug. senhor; Fr. seigneur: a lord. SENIOR immediately from the Latin; older.

26. STRAIT: Lat. strictus; Ital. stretto; Span. estreccho; Portug. estreito; Fr. étroit: narrow, close. STRAIGHT; merely a different orthography for strait, direct.

STRICT: immediately from the Latin; rigid, severe.

27. SURFACE: Lat. superficies; Ital., Span., and Portug., superficie; Fr. surface: the exterior part of any thing.

SUPERFICE OF SUPERFICIES: Fr. superficies: immediately from the Latin, used in a more exact and scientific sense.

28. THAT: Sansc. and Zend tat; Gr. Tó for TóT; Lat. tud in istud; Goth. thata; Germ. das; AngloSax. that: a demonstrative pronoun.

THE: the same word feebly enounced or accented, to enable the stress or force to fall on the following word, thus becoming what is usually called the definite article.

29. To: Lat. ad; Goth. du; Germ. zu; Anglo-Sax. to: having various uses; 1. as a preposition with its case; 11. as the sign of the infinitive mode; 111. as an adverb with meanings corresponding to the preposition; and Iv. in the phrase to and fro.

Too: old Eng. to: the same word employed, 1. as an adverb, denoting excess; and 11. as a conjunction; also, likewise.

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RECORDS like the following we are always well pleased to preserve in these pages; and the writer has our thanks for his considerate attention. His non-resistant progenitor reminds us of a kindred non-combatant, of the city of Brotherly Love, who during the excitement which several years since divided the Society of Friends into two hostile parties, mounted the archway that admitted entrance to a grave-yard which was in litigation between the Legitimates and Seceders, and when the adverse faction' attempted to pass to bury their dead, liberated a brick or two from under his feet upon the heads of those below, accompanied with a word of advice to the most persevering, something to this effect: Friend THOMAS, I think thee had better stand from under the gate-way, or peradventure some of these bricks may fall upon thy head! Look out Thomas!' - and down toppled the nonresistant missiles :

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"THERE are incidents in unwritten history which by frequent repetition as anecdotes lose their historical character. This rarely fails to be the case, if the incident has been made use of by some novelist, to weave into the light web of romance. Such an incident I wish to redeem from the province of fiction, and place it where it properly belongs, with history.

'It is perhaps not generally known, even by the reading public, that the celebrated ADMIRAL WAGER of the British navy, when a boy, was bound apprentice to a Quaker by the name of JOHN HULL, Who sailed a vessel between Newport (Rhode Island) and London; and in whose service he probably learned the rudiments of that nautical skill, as well as that upright honor and integrity, for which he is so much lauded by his biographer. The circumstance of running his master's vessel over a privateer first recommended him to an advantageous place in the British navy. The facts of this encounter, as near as I can gather them, are these: The pirate was a small schooner, full of men, and was about boarding the ship of Captain HULL, whose religious scruples prevented him from taking any measures of a hostile nature. After much persuasion from young WAGER, the peaceable captain retired to his cabin, and gave the command of his ship to his apprentice. His anxiety however induced him to look out from the companion-way, and occasionally give directions to the boy, who he perceived designed to run over the pirate; saying to him: Charles, if thee intends to run over that schooner, thee must put the helm a little more to the starboard!' The ship passed directly over the schooner, which instantly sunk, with every soul on board.

The Admiral appears in after life to have borne a grateful remembrance of his former master, to whom he sent occasionally a pipe of wine. Letters advising of the shipment of the wine are still preserved in the family. On one occasion when the Admiral was in Newport, Captain HULL called at the coffee-house to see his former apprentice; and observing a lieutenant there, asked him where is CHARLES?' At which the lieutenant took umbrage, and threatened to chastise the old Quaker for his insolence, in not speaking more respectfully of his Admiral. When WAGER heard of it, he took occasion to reprove the lieutenant, before Captain HULL, saying, Mr. HULL, Sir, is my honored master.'

JOHN HULL died at Conanicut, on the first day of December, 1732, aged seventy-eight years.' H.

A FRIEND Writing from Rome, in just such a gossiping epistle as we delight to receive, has recorded two or three passages which we have thought would not be without interest to our readers. The second week after our arrival,' says he, 'a grand ceremony took place at St. Peters. To an American eye, it was imposing enough. It was the ceremony of blessing the holy candles; and the whole power and wealth of the Pope were in requisition for the occasion. His Holiness, borne upon the shoulders of four persons, passed within a few feet of me, and I had a good opportunity to see him. He seems about sixty years of age, and is rather hale and good-looking. I wish you could have stood with me, as the procession of cardinals, bishops, and priests, dressed in richest state, swept gorgeously by; attended by plumed troops, and followed by foreign noblemen, strangers, noble and beautiful ladies, etc., etc., all robed in costly apparel, brightening and flashing in the sun of

Rome! An American friend at my elbow said he had 'seen a handsomer procession in Louisville.' He has caught the nil admirari of the English, and vows that Kentucky is worth all Italy, 'including Rome and Vesuvius!' It must have been him, I fancy, who admitted, while standing upon St. Pauls in London, and looking around upon a forty-mile circumference of brick and mortar, that it was a pretty fair village rather thickly-settled here about the meeting-house!' ・・・ Did Ewrite you about passing himself off for Lord Yankeedoodle to the time-serving, sychophantic beggars, near one of the Italian towns through which he passed? They actually took the horses out, and dragged the carriage which contained him and his friends into the city; but the lord' had to pay after the English fashion for his thoughtless imitation of 'Signor G-D D-N,' as the surly London tourists are called in Italy. It was a good joke, and well kept up.' 'I heard Liszт perform twice at Hamburgh. No praise can be too extravagant, when applied to him. I remember thinking, while reading the admirable description given of him by your correspondent, Mr. WATERS, that it was 'too good to be true;' but not so. I believe he would depict the Falls of Niagara, and set its solemn under-tones to music, in his matchless mastery of an instrument which I really never heard before. A plaintive passage from BELLINI made me moan all night, from sheer sympathy. .. By the way, 'speaking of Bellini:' I saw at Dresden the house where the original 'Somnambulist,' contrary to the operatic version of the story, met her melancholy fate. It seems that very early one morning a female was seen walking on the roof of one of the loftiest houses in the city, apparently occupied in some ornamental needle-work. The house stood as it were alone, being much higher than those adjoining it, and to draw her from her perilous situation was impossible. Thousands of spectators had assembled in the streets. It was discovered to be a beautiful girl, nineteen years of age, the daughter of a masterbaker, possessing a small independence, bequeathed to her by her mother. She continued her terrific promenade for hours, at times sitting on the parapet, and dressing her hair. The police came to the spot, and various means of preservation were resorted to. In a few minutes the streets were thickly strown with straw, and beds were called for from the house; but the heartless father, influenced by the girl's step-mother, refused them. Nets were suspended from the balcony of the first floor, and the neighbors fastened sheets to their windows. All this time the poor girl was walking in perfect unconsciousness, sometimes gazing toward the moon, and at others singing or talking to herself. Some persons succeeded in getting on the roof, but dared not approach her for fear of the consequences if they awoke her. Toward eleven o'clock, she approached the very verge of the parapet, leaned forward, and gazed upon the multitude beneath. Every one felt that the moment of the catastrophe had arrived. She rose up, however, and returned calmly to the window by which she had got out. When she saw there were votive lights in the room, she uttered a piercing shriek, which was reëchoed by thousands below, and fell dead into the street.' 6 There are a good many

American artists in Rome, and they are revelling in the treasures of art with which it abounds. Here have been or are CRAWFORD, DURAND, CASILEAR, TERRY, WAUGH, and others, mingling socially and pleasantly together, once a-week at least, in a Saturday evening reunion at the American consul's. Apropos of consul GREENE. He is preparing, he informs me, a series of Letters from Rome' for the KNICKERBOCKER, in which I venture to say you will find vivid descriptions of aspects and results, instead of reasoning and conjectures. No American has ever painted Rome as Mr. GREENE will be able to paint it; and this your readers will discover.'

"THE POET'S ORIGINAL.'— We spake in our last of the interest which in general attaches to the original 'study' of a writer who has transcribed his limnings directly from nature. Standing lately upon the Heights at Brooklyn, with the gay gardens that sprinkle her midst, and verdant fields and woodlands in the back-ground, and before us the glorious panorama of our noble metropolis, with its peerless bay and harbor, and undulating coast, we remembered anew that here it was once stood one, (and reader, it seemed to us that he stood there then,) and while we talked together, with the city's voice rising in a subdued murmur from below, sketched the following scene:

'Who that hath stood, where summer brightly lay
On some broad city, by a spreading bay,
And from a rural height the scene survey'd,
While on the distant strand the billows play'd,
But felt the vital spirit of the scene,
What time the south wind stray'd thro' foliage green,
And freshened from the dancing waves, went on,
By the gay groves, and fields, and gardens won?
Oh, who that listens to the inspiring sound,
Which the wide Ocean wakes against his bound,
While, like some fading hope, the distant sail,
Flits o'er the dim blue waters, in the gale;
When the tired sea-bird dips his wings in foam,

And hies him to his beetling eyry home;
When sun-gilt ships are parting from the strand,
And glittering streamers by the breeze are fanned;
When the wide city's domes and piles aspire,
And rivers broad seemed touch'd with golden fire ;
Save where some gliding boat their lustre breaks,
And volumed smoke its murky tower forsakes,
And surging in dark masses, soars to lie,
And stain the glory of the uplifted sky;
Oh, who at such a scene unmoved hath stood,
And gazed on town, and plain, and field, and flood-
Nor felt that life's keen spirit lingered there,
Through earth, and ocean, and the genial air?'

Looking over the original sketch of The Spirit of Life,' by the late WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK, from which the above passage is taken, we find that portion of the мs. which touches upon Autumn much more elaborate than in the printed version. But who loved this sad and solemn season like the Departed? Whose eye surveyed the many-colored woods, the pomp of autumnal clouds, pavilioning the setting sun, with a more overflowing fulness of calm delight? Whose ear drank in the plaintive voice of fall-blasts with more 'joyful sadness?' But that eye is dim, which looked abroad upon decaying nature, and that accurate sense of sound is now but the dull, cold ear of death!' Yet are the gorgeous hues of Autumn around us, and the wail of expiring Summer resounds through the fading woods. Solemn monition ! But let us, like him whom we mourn, in another passage of the poem from which we have quoted, regard aright the season and its lessons:

'Change is the life of Nature;' and the hour
When storm and blight reveal lone autumn's pow'r;
When damask 1aves to swollen streams are cast,
Borne on the funeral anthems of the blast;
When smit with pestilence the woodlands seem,
Yet gorgeous as a Persian poet's dream;
That hour the seeds of life within it bears,
Tho' fraught with perished blooms and sobbing airs;
Though solemn companies of clouds may rest
Along the uncheer'd and melancholy west;
Though there no more the enthusiast may behold
Effulgent troops, arrayed in purple and gold;
Or mark the quivering lines of light aspire,
Where crimson shapes are bathed in living fire;
Though Nature's withered breast no more be fair,
Nor happy voices fluctuate in the air;
Yet is there life in Autumn's sad domains-
Life, strong and quenchless,thro' his kingdom reigns.
To kindred dust the leaves and flowers return,
Yet briefly sleep in winter's icy urn;
Tho' o'er their graves in blended wreaths repose
Dim wastes of dreary and untrodden snows—
Though the aspiring hills rise cold and pale
To breast the murmurs of the northern gale;

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"T is thus with man. He cometh, like the flow'r,
To feel the changes of each earthly hour;
To enjoy the sunshine, or endure the shade,
By hopes deluded, or by reason sway'd;
Yet haply, if to Virtue's path he turn,
And feel her hallowed fires within him burn,
He passeth calmly from that sunny morn,
Where all the buds of youth are newly born,'
Through varying intervals of onward years,
Until the eve of his decline appears:
And while the shadows round his path descend,
As down the vale of age his footsteps tend,
Peace o'er his bosom sheds her soft control,
And throngs of gentlest memories charm the soul;
Then, weaned from earth, he turns his steadfast eye
Beyond the grave, whose verge he falters nigh;
Surveys the brightening regions of the blest,
And, like a wearied pilgrim, sinks to rest.'

Let those, reader, who mourn the loved and lost, remind you that the solemn influences of this 'sweet Sabbath of the Year' may be made fruitful of good;

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