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love of pleasure which it is the great duty of religion to subdue. We acknowledge, with regret, that the stage is often disgraced by impurities, and that scenes from which, in the comparatively holier atmosphere of the domestic circle, a person of the most ordinary delicacy must shrink, receive in the theatre the smiles of beauty and the sanction of wisdom. In every society, however enlightened, there will be a class whose tastes are coarse and vulgar; who delight to ridicule and deface feelings and sensibility; and who relish, as a triumph of their own party over the aristocracy of modesty and virtue, every broad display of degraded wit and obscene genius. To solicit the acclamation of groundlings like these, talent often stoops, and the " many headed monster of the pit" too frequently swallows down, with indiscriminate voracity, the morsel of voluptuousness, sweetened with music and poetry, and the undisguised disgusting dose of ribaldry, from which good taste and common delicacy recoil. We all sometimes attend theatrical representations in the company of females. I am no friend to the affected and squeamish morality which would put a man of sense and experience out of countenance at any thing which he may see or hear any where; but, in my imagination, the character of woman stands so pure and high, and the attributes which make her superior and fascinating, are so perpetually present to my mind, that when any one avails himself of his mere brute strength to trample down her young tastes, to taint her thoughts, to introduce low and vile images among the gentle visions which play in her fancy, I deem him a traitor to nature, a kind of moral murderer. We have assigned the severest penalties to him who destroys God's image, as embodied in the outward form of man. But it is a more hideous crime to kill those precious spiritual attributes which dignify and elevate human nature, to give an unnecessary shock to modesty, to inflict a wanton pang upon virtue. Yet in the theatre, where the best will sometimes be attracted with the wife, the sister, or the daughter, it is often the case that a gross double entendre, from which the bashful girl has no escape, is given with all the weight of a hacknied player, who delights to be the instrument of exciting even the miserable acclamations with which the low and

the base, from every part of the house, recognise their kindred wit. This is an abuse which all must acknowledge; and it is probably the best objection which the enemies to theatrical entertainments have against them; but this will, we trust, be remedied. In tracing the progress of the stage during the several preceding ages, we find that in the reign of Elizabeth the most obscene allusions and voluptuous scenes were frequently represented, and that the virgin queen herself patronised with her presence exhibitions which would now strike the most ordinary occupant of the gallery with surprise, if not with indignation. It is evident, therefore, that the natural course of civilization is effecting a reform in this particular; and that, in conformity to the improving spirit of the times, while the relics of gothic ages are gradually falling away from our customs, opinions, institutions, and laws, the good taste of the community will enlist the fascinations of the drama more exclusively in the cause of modesty and truth.

We have also heard it urged against this species of amusement, that it attracts the young and the giddy from the duties of business and sober reflection; that, contrasted with its brilliant pictures, the maxims and practical facts of real life appear dim and tedious, and that multitudes resort here to engage in extravagant expense and profligate pleasure. To this we answer, that human beings will ever seek relaxation during their hours of leisure. If there had never been a theatre they who squander time and money within its walls would have probably directed their wandering inclinations into some more dangerous channel. Only persons naturally mean will extract evil out of that which is the source of good to others. In the bosom of such the germs of vice will lurk, whatever be the circumstances by which they are surrounded. History presents many instances of gloomy victims of false morality, who deem they propitiate the favor of heaven by smothering all the pleasant impulses with which it has enriched their bosoms. It is certain to us, that, however these may clothe themselves in saintly robes, and distort their feelings and affections into the deformity of monkish superstition; what ever may be their affectation of superior morality, their humble and artificial garb of humanity covers a

heart where exist thoughts and passions common to humanity, which still take root and flourish with a luxuriance ranker and darker, because smothered and concealed. We are not advocating licentiousness, nor ridiculing an attempt of virtue to act with temperance and honor. But we are no bigot; we are no believer in the cfficacy of out wardforms and garments; we place no value on the purity which arises from the seclusion of a hermit in a cell. The virtue which we admire is an active principle. It meets the vicissitudes of the world, and overcomes them; and in regard to youth, although we are aware of the necessity of application, and that strong excitements are pernicious to the character, as they are unfavorable to the tranquil duties of the student, yet we would not frown upon rational enjoyment, as inconsistent with strength of mind and purity of heart. Application should not be too strict. The fine glowing fancies of youth should not always be fettered down. If the mind is for ever kept in chains what is the wonder if it be puny and timid; that it should bend tamely to slavish prejudices and absurd doctrines; that it should be destitute of the vigor, the confidence, the freedom, and the courage which distinguish others of more independent habits. We may often see where the nian has been injured by an over wrought anxiety to make a scholar, as the child of the proud and wealthy is often caressed into effeminacy and disease, while the neglected orphan, thrust out early upon an ungentle world, gathers strength and hardy resolution from its storms and its reverses.

As for me, I confess I have found the theatre a fairy land. In my earlier boyhood it teemed with rapturous associations; and even now, when I enter the gorgeous temple I put off the mantle of daily cares; I break loose from the bondage of narrow and wearying adventures; and, like some bird uncaged, I trim the plumage of my spirit for a long and a soaring flight. I remember when the dazzling scene first burst upon my sight. It was a glorious, unearthly vision. I had no leisure to reason. I was all feeling, expectation, wonder, rapture. Even when more accustomed to it, its interest was shared by the lowest supernumerary. Nexsen, Banker, Oliff, the box keeper, the lamp lighter, all were elevated to an

imaginary importance; all moved in the glowing light which the institution to which they were attached reflected, even as the morning gives a tinge of radiance to to the obscure clouds which form only the drapery of her temple. I have looked after the ghost of Hamlet in the street, as if indeed he locked in his bosom

"The eternal blazonry which must not be
To ears of flesh and blood."

I once caught myself in actual astonishment at beholding the pale merchant of Venice and the ferocious Shylock, betraying a striking similarity of opinion respecting two glasses of whiskey punch, and I thought, in the words of the poet of all poets:

"Can such things be,

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder?"

When, after an evening so strangely beguiled, the plot drew to a conclusion-when the tyrants were all slain, the lovers married, and the personages of the drama formed themselves into a grand group, which the envious green curtain snatched from my reluctant eyes, how my fancy would dwell upon its splendors! Its caverns, forests, cities, rivers, and mountains-its lovers, knights, armies, heroes, and kings came up again and again, and revolved in my imagination in a confusion so gorgeous and magnificent that I wondered how any human being, with a dollar in his pocket, could hesitate to spend it there. And then to peep behind the scenes in the daytime. To see the strange sunlight streaming down among its magic shadows. To stand in silent revery where the midnight assassin, the lofty patriot, the dark witch, the bloody tyrant had been. To stalk over the lonely plains which had once trembled with the tread of armies, or echoed with the tones of faithful love. It was as if, after years of oblivion, my spirit should revisit the earth, and find its thrones empty, its kingdoms desolate, its foaming rivers, its thronging multitudes passed away, the useless objects of man's ambition crumbling together in neglected ruin, and all the complicated machinery of life and nature run down and broken to pieces.

But the rich mists of an uncorrected fancy have vanished, and with them a thousand thoughts as artless, hopes as brilliant, and affections as unrestrained. Experience has put aside the veil which softened the harsh features of life, and gave its delusions the air of reality. The mimic winds and harmless thunders of the stage no more whiten my cheek with silent awe. Its flashing treasures have been divested of their spells. But my admiration for the drama yet remains. I admire it for the generous sentiments which it breathes upon all subjects, for the models of high character it sets up before the people, for the intellectual pleasures it affords, for its displays of innocent mirth, of stately and commanding passion, of domestic affections. I admire it for its forcible delineations of all that is high, untrammelled, and beautiful in human nature. It is full of bold, free, noble opinions. It holds up the vicious to a scorn which may be easily and justly transferred to similar objects in real society-it counteracts the malignant encroachments of bigotry, slavery, and superstition-it opposes avarice, cowardice, and a tame submission to insult, and champions fearlessly the natural rights and dignity of man. Whatever may be the pernicious consequences ascribed to to it, these are redeeming attributes, and I would no more abandon its benevolent and liberal influences upon society to escape its partial and accidental evils, than I would condemn the arrangement by which nature refreshes the fields with showers, because a passing cloud sometimes overshadows the air.

THE ECLIPSE.

NOTWITHSTANDING the bad state of the roads, the eclipse did actually take place at thirty minutes after eleven, on the twelth of February, 1831, without any postponement or delay. Thousands of our citizens were seen with "upturned, wondering eyes," gazing at the progress of the phenomenon. Vague reports were previously circulated among our promiscuous population