ANCIENT DEXTERITY. ONE of the early kings of Egypt, being desirous to secure his riches, commanded a treasure-house to be built; but the architect, intending to have some share of the treasure, instead of finishing the building completely, placed one of the stones in so artful a manner, that it could be taken out and put in again by one man. As he was prevented by death from accomplishing his design, on his death-bed he gave full instructions to his two sons how to execute it. After they had for some time plundered the treasury, and carried off large sums, the king, who observed the gradual diminution of his wealth, without being able to discover how the thieves had access to it, finding his seal the door always whole, ordered several strong traps to be left in the treasury. By this means one of the brothers was at last taken; but, finding it impossible to escape, he pressed his brother to cut off his head, and retire with it, to prevent any discovery. upon The king, next morning, examining the success of his project, upon finding a man without a head in the snare, hastened out in the greatest alarm and confusion; but, recovering himself, he ordered the body to be exposed on the outside of the wall to the public view, charging the guards placed around it to observe the countenances of the spectators, and to seize those who appeared sorrowful. The surviving brother, urged by his mother's entreaties and threats of exposure, formed the design of carrying off his brother's body. Accordingly, driving his asses thither, laden with skins of wine, he found means, by the stratagem of letting his wine run out, to intoxicate and stupify the guards. While they were in a deep sleep, he shaved the right cheek of each of them, by way of derision; and, in the middle of the night, carried off the body on one of his asses. This action still more astonished the king; who, being now more earnest to discover the thief, ordered his daughter to receive the addresses of all suitors pro miscuously, on condition that each should previously confess to her the most ingenious action he had ever managed, and the greatest crime he had ever committed. The young man, resolving again to perplex the king, went to the palace to his daughter, and confessed to her that he had cut off his brother's head, and afterwards carried off his body. When she then offered to lay hold of him, he stretched out to her the arm of a dead man, which he had carried in under his cloak, (suspecting the intentions of the king,) and, while she supposed she had detained the culprit, he made his escape. The king's resentment being now converted into admiration, he promised a pardon and rewards to the person who had robbed his treasury, if he would discover himself. The young man, upon this proclamation, immediately made himself known; and the king, thereupon accounting him far superior in dexterity to any man then living, gave him his daughter in marriage. W. L. STANZAS. THE youthful heart is like a lyre And ev'ry light-winged zephyr, that But soon the hand of sorrow comes, The blighted hope-the faithless love- Their gushing streams of misery, JAMES KNOX. ADIEU TO THE EAGLE. Oh, that thou hadst still been leading We hail'd him as lord, Where our eyes met the sunshine The trumpet sang loud; As the storm of the cloud; When the stars shone above us, And the dead lay beneath, And our chargers dash'd onward O'er mountain and heath! Adieu to the eagle! We hail him no more; We bore him unconquer'd O'er far lands and waves,- But wildly and vainly Their hot blood was shed! Adieu to the eagle! What cravens have sunk Where his pinions the freshness Of victory drunk ! As the leaves of the forest O'er bleak fields are strown, So they fell and were mingled Unwept and unknown; And a thousand glaves leapt From their sheaths sharp and bright,― But no more shall they waken The lord of the fight! R. AUGUSTINE. ON INTRODUCING FOREIGN WORDS INTO THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Ir language is designed to be a medium of conveying ideas, those words which are understood by the majority of hearers are the best calculated to answer the purpose. How much, then, at variance with this principle is the conduct of most of our popular writers! It is alike unimportant to them whether they write about a fashionable party, a fashionably cut coat, a new novel, or on the worn-out subject of Catholic emancipation whether their subject is the pacification of Greece, or the tumbling down of a chimney in Thames Street; the indisposition of a sovereign, or the nuptials of some hero and heroine of romance: but in all cases, and under all circumstances, without 'respect of persons,' they give us whole hosts of words and sentences from the French, Italian, Latin, Spanish, and I know not how many more languages. I sit not down on the present occasion as a gloomy enemy of improvement, condemning it as innovation; I write not under the idea that the English language came into existence perfect, or that it has in some past age successfully leapt into a state of perfection, and that by consequence we are to avoid a new word because it is new. No! my ideas are the reverse of these. Our language has its imperfections I know; but notwithstanding these, its capabilities are extensive, and its store of words and phrases is sufficient for all purposes of a literary nature. If the votaries of science have been pleased to engraft derivatives and compounds from the Latin or the Greek to express names and qualities, and if they have effectually succeeded in naturalizing them, let it pass. This has nothing to do with my present subject. It is separate to itself; but it will be well to remark, in passing, that the foreign words of this class, which so puzzle us sometimes, are merely the Latin or Greek words answering to some others the most simple and the most familiar in the English language! It is a first principle of an unenlightened policy to keep learning to the few, that they may rise above the many; and it is, probably, in accordance with this principle, that men of learning have taken unknown terms to express what would otherwise be easily understood. It may be, and undoubtedly is, frequently necessary to make quotations from works in foreign languages, as well as from others written in English; and where the essay, &c. being written is of a professional nature, and where it is important to retain the original words for the sake of some critical peculiarity, it is not of any moment to translate them; no difficulty can arise in allowing the sentence to pass as quoted from the original. But where the essay, &c. is not professional, and where there is no critical peculiarity to be retained; or, in other words, where it is merely literary, it is the height of folly, and the most degenerate offspring of a deformed taste, to give the original words. If, as in the case at first supposed, it be desirable to give the original words, let them be given in a note; or if they are given in the text, let the translation be appended. If this rule were adhered to, how much more instruction, amusement, and pleasure, would be derived from the works which in the present day are styled popular! Take up, for instance, a magazine. Can you understand it? If you can, you are acquainted with all the languages of Europe, and several of those of antiquity. If you have not all these at your command, you must do as the old schoolmistress ordered her youthful aspirantskip and go on.' Mere English readers frequently feel this mortification, and they constitute a very respectable proportion of those who read our magazines. In perusing the Percy Anecdotes,' they will be preeminently vexed. Friends Sholto and Reuben frequently exercise their laudatory powers on the anecdote to come; and then, to our consternation, we find, after feeling the legitimate effect of their eloquence, that the tale has its ending in Latin, or some other language. There is, I remember, a collection of epitaphs, taken from Pére la Chaise, and recommended to the reader for their filial, or some other, affection, but they |