and Famine, Disease and Death, peered at him through those twin openings. Oh! had that fatal suit never been donned, how glorious a spectacle would this our world present! It would have swarmed with tall and pure intelligences, 'only less than the angels.' But, mark the consequences! Cain becomes a butcher, and Abel a huckster: afterward, the first a vagabond, the second a carcass. Such were the disgraces which the first clothing put upon our humanity. Every age, since the ejectment of our first parent from his territories, has seen their renewal. If man had remained to this hour unclothed and unshirted, he had been still pure and happy. But misery and dress go together-they are natural yoke-fellows. Whenever I see a pair of breeches, I think of original sin, and small clothes remind me of total depravity. A frock coat is to me the exponent of damnation, and a tight-bodied one the sign and token of eternal torture. Is it not our duty, then, to put away from us these mementos of our shame?—to cast to the winds these daily slaves of Phillip, whose ever business it is to babble in our ears -Thou must die!' Shall we endure these provocative monitors? —shall we put up with these woollen impertinences?-manufactured disturbers of peace? these hangers-on? I think not. Better visions dawn upon me. I see the Naked Age approaching. I see the time when tailors' bills shall be no more, or become mere matters of history-remembered, only to be classed with the witches and goblins which affrighted our ancestors. The argument against clothing assumes (if possible) a still more serious aspect, when examined in its connection with the dignity of man. It must be confessed, that all objects are pure, in proportion as they are free from contingents and adjuncts. The diamond only when cleaned from its imbedding earth exhibits its full lustre, and the pearl shines not forth in its clear, native whiteness, till disinterred from the coffining oyster. Sir Isaac Newton was of opinion that the only sorts of chaste matter on earth were certain fine particles, or impenetrable, finite atoms, and that all other matter was a mere mongrel. He considered the pure existence of atoms to be in a state of undress. I agree with the venerable author of the pippin (sometimes called the gravitating) philosophy. Man is among the corruptiblethe adulterated — the impure. There is something to me ludicrous in the very physical structure of man. He is a forked radish.' It always seemed to me some strange error or accident in his formation, that he was divided and cleft at the bottom. It would better fulfil my notions of symmetry, if he were fashioned column-like, and progressed with one leg. By having two, it would seem as if, in some convulsion of nature, he had split up. My notions of a perfect being, gentle reader-to let thee a little into some new mysteries-is (abandoning the columnar doctrine,) as a shapeless and invisible cloud, containing in itself the power of motion, and floating about, guided by mere impulse. I would have it possess a full source of harmony, and capable of breathing music and sweet sounds at will. It should journey to and fro, in company with the seasons; it should rest under the shadow of a mountain in Greece, and melt into crimson and golden hues in our own far west. Sometimes it should glide noiselessly amid the flowers, the rare and pleasant flowers of England, or over the famed war-fields of old France. It should possess the perfect power of metempsychosis or transition; at one time it might cool, far up in the ether, into all the delicious freshness of snow, and at another dissolve in all the sweet, summer tenderness of rain. But mark me: it should be no common cloud, this perfect creature, this paragon, this phoenix of mine. It should bear about in the heavens no semblance of garments. It should figure forth to the clown or the school-boy's brain no rude monster bedighted in fantastical apparel; no celestial Dutchmen; no well-breeched harlequin; no valorous chieftains, with black cocked hats, made of wind, with swords of vapor. No: But there, pillowed on the air, my human cloud, my immortal fragment of ether, my animate and beautiful substitute for man, should sit and become intellectual with thought. 'Beautiful cloud! I would I were with thee In thy calm way o'er land and sea : Enough of this rhapsody of a theorist. By looking at your next neighbor, you will soon see that he is no such thing as my perfect and symmetrical being. You will not only see that he is a little toy, moulded of clay, but that he is also tricked out in that inhuman absurdity styled dress. From the chin to the heels, he is a tailor's ape. What an abasement!-how desperate a degradation! Man, it seems, cannot be man without this pitiful adjunct; he is a tree that blooms not without this foliage. And yet it irks him: it is a bondage to him, to be cased up thus within wooden walls. His soul lives in a double prison; it is egg within egg; first a shell of clay, and next an outer covering upon that of cloth. How is it possible for orators and divines to reach this doubly-defended nucleus ? Can a refined sentiment make its way through broadcloth ?—or will a pointed thought or fierce denunciation pierce the solidity of a Petersham? Man goeth about bearing his own shame as a burden upon his back; and yet he aspires to mate with the angels. Think you they stoop to these appendages? That they walk the starry pavement of the skies,' cultivating the cock of a hat, or staking the happiness of their immortal natures on the roll of a collar? No: the higher we ascend the scale of intelligence, the less do we find of this vain incumbrance. Even the brute has a lesson for us here. The horse does he wear aught over his leathern jerkin? And have I not seen Sir Goat strut forth with only his mohair cloak cast over his shoulder, with much of native and dignified simplicity? Let us sift our notions nicely, then, and with candor, and we shall speedily learn that we have an instinct within us which preacheth against clothing—at least against the modern modification of that vileness. Perhaps we may conceive, with some show of reason, of Alcibiades promenading our Broadway with a cane and whiskers, or the Emperor Otho arranging his curls in faultless mirrors; but what say you, reader, to Socrates in the Portico philosophizing in a round-about, or Cicero walking the Forum (forecasting an oration against Cataline) in a pair of top-boots?—or Plato in nankeens? — or Pythagoras in a swallow-tail? - Hercules in small-clothes?- -or Homer (pauper though he was) in a dicky? is it not? It is beyond you POST SCRIPTUM. When I had laid the first timbers, as it were, of the above essay, I mentioned my views (such as I expected to set forth, and have set forth here,) to a bosom friend of mine, confidentially. I think he must, in some failing moment, have broken his trust. It appears the tailors have 'got wind' of the forth-coming argument, and are beginning to take steps to prevent the dissemination of its doctrines. The following I take from an evening paper: 'NOTICE. TO TAILORS. The tailors of the City of New-York are respectfully invited to attend a meeting of the trade, to be held at Jefferson House, on Monday evening next, when business of importance will be laid before them.' The mark at which this points is palpable. I am farther corroborated in the belief that some movement is on foot among the Thimbles, from the circumstance that when the other day I was taking my customary afternoon's walk, I was met by a tailor's journeyman, who, in the usual hobbling style, was hurrying home with a coat on his left arm. As I passed him, the fellow, who by some mode or other had become acquainted with my person, put his unemployed hand into his 'hind pocket, and shook out his coat-tail deliberately in my face! C. M. PÖESY. 'Was ich ohne dich ware, ich weisz, es nicht.' My soul is sad within me! Come once more, Come, messenger of peace! for thou canst thrill Charleston, (S. C.,) 1836. SCHILLER. M. E. L. AND IT S ENVIRONS. THE approach to St. Augustine from the ocean is guarded by breakers, as far as the eye can reach; the white, foaming, roaring surges extend a considerable distance from the shore, and the pilots feel their way with poles over the bar. Its channel often shifts after or rather during storms, and is very narrow. It is often impossible to enter the harbor; and when this is the case, vessels must lie off and on the coast for days together a disagreeable necessity, especially to an invalid. However, as far as my observation extends, a consumptive patient is better off at sea, even during a storm, than on any land whatever. It may seem strange, but it is a fact, that a friend in a consumption, who could hardly walk a rod when we sailed, gained strength and flesh while all others lost both. From this I should infer, that a voyage to the Pacific in a whale ship would be the best course for a consumptive patient to pursue. But let us go on shore. In approaching, you see piles of sand, several feet high, irregularly drifted, like snow-banks; and, scattered wide apart, may be seen here and there a solitary live-oak, disrobed of its leaves and moss by storms, and holding up its brawny arms, as if defying the thunderbolts of Heaven. Bleak and desolate, to the last degree, the coast appears. I could not help exclaiming, 'Is this indeed Florida? Where are its flowers?' It seemed as bald as the head of hoary Time. But the air and waters were full of life. It appeared to be the place of resort for all sorts of birds and fishes-away from the haunts of man for the city was some distance back, and around a point of the sand island which is between it and the ocean. Ducks in large flocks, and gulls, mounting and darting in regular curves past each other, seemed to fill the air like summer insects, while the heavy, sluggish pelicans would come down the stream in regular rows, close to the water, and with heads awry-so that when they saw a fish they might pounce upon it turn almost over back foremost, in pouching one large enough for a man's dinner: then they would go and stand up like small children, along the beach. As to the fish, there was no end to them; they whitened the river with foam in some places. Many kinds of the finny tribe abound here; sheepshead bass, of a most excellent flavor, and mullet, by thousands; porpoises appear as if rolling along after them; and sharks which can dart like a bird, and even render it questionable whether a bird could really leave them behind in a race, have here no rivals but men and birds of prey. Oysters, clams, crabs of a delightful flavor, as well as the common kind, are here, and every thing calculated to render life easy, if we except a fruitful upland soil. On turning a point of the sand island, in front of the city, a regu lar built fort, of the old Spanish times, 'looks black defiance' to any enemy that may approach. It has its glacis, towers, fosse, and drawbridge, and all that the art of war demands in regular fortifications. It is said to have cost so much money that the king of Spain, under whose reign it was built I forget whose sent to know of the engineer if he was building it of solid gold. The cannon are all planted on the top, and fire through embrasures and not port-holes, as in the forts about this city. The town stands on a tongue of land, with salt water flowing all around the top of it, and this fort is on the root of the inland cape. On approaching the place, the eye seeks in vain for the appearance of a city. You may see one or two-perhaps at times three-vessels at the end of a long tier of round palmetto logs, and back of this an antiquated looking hamlet; and you may fancy you see an old Spanish picture on the proscenium of a theatre; but city there is not. Ruins may be seen in all directions, as if there might have been, at some former time, more legitimate pretensions. streets I There is a square of about an acre, with an old court-house in a falling condition, facing the sea, and a Catholic church, with its three bells in open niches in the front wall; on the opposite side a small new Episcopal church, and in the centre of the square a meat market, which, however, is not used to hang meat in, but as the market places of old were, for men to meet in, to discuss politics, health, and by association, perhaps, we have heard the classics mentioned there. The if streets the lanes and alleys can be called are not paved, nor do they appear much like Broadway. One passenger of whom we heard, went up the long wharf, and through the square, and when he reached the centre of the city, he asked the way to St. Augustine. When told that he was in the principal street, and in the heart of the place, he turned on his heel, and retired to his cabin, sulkily refusing to go on shore again. This was in consequence of the glowing descriptions he had received. But for my own part, was very much pleased, both with the place and the inhabitants, who were very civil, and happy to oblige strangers. I liked the unique appearance of all I saw. Orange trees, as large as half grown appletrees, shooting their branches over walls of a peculiar kind of yellow shell stone-by the way, the only kind of stone to be seen gave a very singular effect, and so far as the orange trees were concerned, a beautiful one, especially to a northern eye, accustomed to consider such trees as great ornaments. The houses of far the greater number of the inhabitants are very small. You might move two or three of them, roof and foundation, into some of our parlors. These stand on very narrow lanes, some too narrow to allow a northern cartman to drive through. to drive through. You would imagine them the abodes of utter wretchedness and vice- but no mistake could be greater. The people by whom these miserable lodgings are inhabited, are very orderly and virtuous indeed. They are descendants of Minorcan ancestors from the Mediterranean, and these constitute the majority of the people. There are a few Spaniards, and the remainder are principally of the 'universal nation,' we will not say 'who go about seeking whom they may devour,' lest it should be said that in jest we approach too near the truth, and incline some to give us secret thrusts. But they jest upon each other there. one occasion, one of the finest old gentlemen in the world, belonging to the East, called to a young man of an agreeable appearance: 'Come hither, you young yankee! I wish to introduce you to a friend On |