The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 28

When a person, afflicted with disease, seeks relief in quackery, he may truly be said to be galloping upon this road.

It is seldom indeed that any advantages or emoluments are derived by travellers in the Road to Ruin. Holcroft and Harris, as toll-gatherers on that road, have doubtless been benefited by it.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

ON SEGAR SMOAKING.

There is nothing, perhaps, more pernicious, or more destructive to the health of man, than the present practice of _segar smoaking_. It is of all others the most disagreeable, as well as the most obnoxious thing in use. It may, no doubt, be thought by our _bucks_ who are its votaries, a mark of gentility, or an accomplishment. Admitting then for a moment, the truth of this remark; yet which of these _champions_ of folly will declare, when seriously reflecting, that he would rather sacrifice his health and happiness, _than_ the gratification (if I may be permitted to use the expression) of _drawing_ to such a _filthy_ twist? There are none, however strenuous advocates they may appear for the fashions, still their own comfort will be consulted before that _mad pa.s.sion_ which will finally _contaminate_ their blood beyond a purification. Let them further consider, that _nothing_, however fashionable, can receive the approbation of their companions, if offensive, and that _segar smoaking_, when practiced in company (as is often the case) is an unpardonable insult. The smell conveyed from one of those _infected_ things, is sufficient very often to poison persons within the limits of a room.

It is somewhat astonishing to see so many who pretend to be men of sense, give their sanction to a thing that must finally terminate to their disadvantage; were they to consider the effects which flow from its indulgence, they would find it to be an irretrievable injury both to their persons and const.i.tutions: and however sanctioned by custom is not the less detestable. Although slow in its operations, still it will prove to be a sure poison, such as will _baffle_ medicine, and _torture_ the skill of the most eminent physicians.

Such, O! ye votaries of segar smoaking, will be your reward, if you continue to follow this fashionable, though injurious custom.

TYRUNCULUS.

NEW-YORK _August 18, 1796_.

PRECEPTS OF CHILO, THE GRECIAN PHILOSOPHER.

Three things are difficult; to keep a secret; to bear an injury patiently; and to spend leisure well. Visit your friend in misfortune, rather than in prosperity. Never ridicule the unfortunate. Think before you speak. Do not desire impossibilities. Gold is tried by the touchstone, and men are tried by gold. Honest loss is preferable to shameful gain; for, by the one, a man is a sufferer but once; by the other always. In conversation make use of no violent motion of the hands; in walking, do not appear to be always upon business of life and death; for rapid movements indicate a kind of phrenzy. If you are great, be condescending; for it is better to be loved than to be feared. Speak no evil of the dead. Reverence the aged. Know thyself.

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

ON TEMPERANCE.

Temperance has those particular advantages above all other means of preserving health, that it is practicable to all ranks and conditions, in any season, or at any place; it is a kind of regimen which every man may put himself under, without interrupting his business, without any expence, or without loss of time. Every animal, except man, keeps to one dish; herbs serve for this species, fish for that, and flesh for a third. Man falls upon every thing that is found in his way; not the smallest fruit, or the least excrescence of the earth, scarce a berry or mushroom can escape him.

Though Socrates lived in Athens during a great plague, he never caught the least infection, which ancient authors unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted temperance which he always observed.

ANECDOTES OF MEN OF EXTRAORDINARY STRENGTH.

George le Feur, a learned German author, tells us, that in the year 1529, there lived a man in Misnia in Thuringia, named Nicholas Klumber, an ecclesiastic and provost of the great church, that by main strength, and without the help of a pulley or other engine, took up a pipe of wine in a cellar, carried it into the street, and laid it upon a cart. The same author says, That there was a man at Mantua, named Rodomus, that could break a cable as thick as a man's arm, with as much ease as a brown thread.

Mr. Richard Carew in his survey of Cornwall, tells us, that a tenant of his, named John Bray, carried about the length of a b.u.t.t, at one time, six bushels of wheat meal, at the rate of fifteen gallons to the bushel, and a great lubberly miller twenty years of age hanging upon it. To which he adds, that John Roman of the same county, a short clownish grub, would carry the whole carcase of an ox upon his back, with as much ease as another of a greater stature could carry a lamb.

Caius Marius, who was originally a cutler, and in the time of Galienus elected emperor by the soldiers, was so strong a bodied man, that the veins of his hands appeared like sinews. He could stop a cart drawn with horses, and pull it backwards with his fourth finger: If he gave the strongest man a fillip, it was felt like a blow on the forehead with a hammer: With two fingers he could break many things twisted together.

The emperor Aurelian, as it is recorded in history by Flavius Vopiscus, was very tall of stature, and of such wonderful strength, that in a pitched battle against the Samaritans, he killed in one day with his own hands forty-eight of his enemies, and in some skirmishes afterward made them up nine hundred and fifty. When he was colonel of the sixth legion, he made such a slaughter among the Franci, that seven hundred of them perished by his own sword, and three hundred were sold that were taken prisoners by himself.

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.

_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._ Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tsc.h.i.n.k._

(Continued from page 54.)

Of the following letter only the conclusion deserves to be transcribed.

"I am firmly convinced, that in Miguel's and Amelia's heart a pa.s.sion has taken rise, which soon will burst out in blazing flames; the present which he has made her of a ring of great value, which she has accepted, his looks at table, Amelia's extraordinary kindness for him, and his consternation on account of her illness, are incontestable proofs of the truth of this observation. How much soever this mutual pa.s.sion coincides with my plan, because it furnishes me with infallible means to allure the inconstant, fickle Miguel, yet I must make haste to interrupt this growing pa.s.sion because I am afraid he will be enslaved so much by that enchanting lady, that he will be rendered unfit for matters of greater importance.

"For that reason I have instructed the apparition to utter a few words, which I could foresee would cause a small breach between the two lovers.

Your Excellency will recollect that the ghost accused Miguel's father of being his murderer. By these means, I hope to put at least a temporary stop to Miguel's and Amelia's growing intimacy; for it cannot be expected that the son of the supposed murderer of the Count will dare to pay his addresses to his widow; and if he should, it is to be expected that she will decline admitting his visits, or at least treat him with coolness and reserve. However this misunderstanding would not be of long duration, for on close examination, both would find themselves deceived by the apparition, and their love would gain additional force. For that reason I have wrote a pressing letter to Miguel's father, without subscribing my name, and advised him to order his son to continue his travels without delay, that he may be cured of a foolish pa.s.sion which he had for the Countess of Barbis. I hope this letter will have the desired effect; and I will keep myself in readiness to follow Miguel every where with my myrmidons; for my plan requires that I never should lose sight of him."

The following letter is so important that I must insert it at full length:

"MY LORD,

"You have accused me in your letter from the twelfth of this month, of having acted equally dishonest and imprudent, by suffering the Count, when disguised as a spectre, to say an untruth, which injures the honour of an innocent man, and if ever discovered by his son or the Countess, will brand him and myself as impostors. I could have prevented these severe reproaches of your Excellency, if I had been at leisure to explain this matter at large in my last letter. First you will give me leave to observe, that the declaration of the ghost is no untruth, but only an oracle, the duplicity to which, beings of that kind are much addicted. Amelia's husband has really been a.s.sa.s.sinated by order of the man whom Miguel calls father; however, that person is not his parent, but only the preserver of his life; in short, it is Vasconcello's Secretary of State at L**b*n, who has saved Miguel's life when a boy, and for that reason is called by him his second father. This man the ghost had in view, and of course has spoken the truth, but only has been misunderstood. This misunderstanding produced the accidental, and if your Excellency will give me leave to add----the salutary consequence of separating Miguel and the Countess. Fearing, however, the accusation of the ghost might produce fatal consequences for the Marquis of Villa R*al, and Amelia be tempted to revenge the death of her Lord, the ghost took the precaution to add, 'be generous and forgive my murderer.'----The honour of the Marquis, which properly has received no injury from the declaration of the ghost, but only from the misunderstanding, shall, I vow solemnly, receive ample satisfaction.

I have it myself too much at heart that the Countess and Miguel shall know the real murderer of Amelia's husband, not to remove that error; being desirous to see the good understanding of the two lovers restored at some future period, and the a.s.sa.s.sin punished for his numberless crimes. You have signed the sentence which the rest of the conspirators have p.r.o.nounced against this oppressor of the liberty of your country, with the full conviction of his deserving death; but would not Miguel look upon him rather as his benefactor and preserver of his life, than as an enemy to his native country, and prompted by grat.i.tude and pity, endeavour to save his life? However, if he shall be informed that the preserver of his life, is not only the oppressor of his native country, but also the a.s.sa.s.sin of Amelia's Lord, then his love for the Countess will give an additional energy to his patriotism, and silence his grat.i.tude for Vas*****los; then the voice of his country and of the beloved of his heart, demanding revenge upon the villain, will silence the voice of his heart imploring his mercy; he will sacrifice the devoted victim to justice, at the expence of his sensibility, and consent to Vascon***los's death. Not in vain did I introduce the apparition in such a rueful shape, not in vain instruct it to display the bleeding wounds, and to discover his horrid a.s.sa.s.sination! even the coolest observer would have been inflamed violently by that scene, and how vehemently must it have provoked the lover of the unfortunate lady to resentment against me murderer? Your Excellency will consequently easily conceive what my second secret aim was, which I designed to attain by the apparition, and at the same time, be convinced that I have exposed neither the ghost nor myself to the danger of being caught in a _lie_, although Amelia and Miguel should discover that the murderer was not the real father of the latter. However, this discovery could not take place, because Miguel has ceased visiting the Countess, and received orders from his father to leave, without delay, the castle and its environs. Amelia's servants have drawn this grateful intelligence from his servant, and communicated it to me, upon which I put myself and my people in readiness to follow Miguel on the day of his departure, partly on horseback, and partly in coaches. To the valet of the Countess, who is entirely in my interest, I have given some important orders, which I intend to communicate at large in my next letter."

I was already arrived at *ubia, and accommodated with a lodging at the inn which the Count had pointed out to me, when I finished the decyphering of this letter. Night had set in, and I was musing on the important visit which the Count had promised me, when I heard the rolling of a coach, which stopped under my window. A few moments after my servant came to inform me that an Irish captain, whose name was Dromley, wanted to speak to me. The word Irish chilled the very marrow of my bones--"Let him come in!" said I, turning my face from the servant, to conceal from him the emotions which must have been painted in every feature. I stepped to the window in order to recover myself a little; the door was flung open, and an officer in a blue uniform entered the room----I advanced two steps to meet him, and saw the _Unknown_ standing before me. The sight of him made me speechless. "You will be surprised, my Lord! to see me here," said he, "however the concerns of your heart are of so much importance to me, that nothing could deter me from paying you a visit." Here he stopped. Not one syllable escaped my lips. He looked at me with seeming unconcern, advanced a step nearer, and resumed in a soft winning accent, "My Lord!

you love the beautiful Countess Clairval! however, you would love her in vain, if my power had not removed every obstacle, and ensured you her reciprocal love."

Now I had recovered the power of utterance. "Then you have informed her," I exclaimed, "that her Lord has not been a.s.sa.s.sinated by my real father?"

The Irishman seemed to be struck with surprise, examining inquisitively my looks, and after a short pause, continued in a firmer accent: "It was my duty to make this discovery to Amelia; however, it would never have been sufficient to procure you her reciprocal love, if I had not done something which was not my duty."

"_What_ have you done? My notions of your actions have been confounded so much, that I cannot thank you beforehand."

"Thank!" he replied haughtily, "as if I had ever done any thing for the sake of thanks! In order to save you that trouble, I will not tell you what I have done for you."

The strain in which he spoke confounded me. I returned no answer.

"However, I must caution you," he continued, "not to represent me to the Countess as an impostor, if you do not wish to destroy the effect of the service which I have done you. You will be convinced at some future period how necessary it is for your own happiness not to slight this advice."

"If I am to enjoy the happiness you have prepared for me, I must first know the residence of Amelia."