racy, which has been so often lamented, in keeping the day of our Lord's Nativity. The ancient customs connected with the season of Christmas were explained in our Number for December, 1820. 26. St. Stephen.-Stephen was one of the seven Deacons chosen to take care of the temporal concerns of the church. He possessed singular holiness, ability, and zeal. His adversaries, members of five separate synagogues, unable to resist the wisdom and spirit by which he spake, suborned false witnesses, who deposed they heard him speak blasphemous words against God, and against Moses, upon which he was brought before the Sanhedrim. He made an elaborate defence, which is recorded in the 7th chap. of Acts and afterwards charged the Jews with the murder of Jesus Christ. This led to his own murder; for he was instantly stoned to death. He was the first martyr to the Christian faith. Lardner and Doddridge think his death was rather the effect of popular fury, than the result of a legal sentence. 27. St. John.-John, the son of Zebedee, a fisherman on the sea of Galilee, is reckoned the youngest of Christ's Apostles. He had the peculiar appellation of "the Disciple whom Jesus loved." This excellent man was a witness of his Master's last sufferings; and, after the crucifixion, fulfilled his dying charge, by taking Mary to his own home. He was banished by Domitian to the Isle of Patmos, after having, as is said, come unhurt out of a cauldron of burning oil. His writings are numerous, and breathe, in a very eminent degree, the spirit of his Divine Master. His Gospel was written at Ephesus, in 69. I. II. III. Catholic Epistles, at Ephesus, between 80 and 90. Revelations, at Patmos, or Ephesus, 90 or 95. Tradition reports, that, when he was a very old man, he used to be carried into the church at Ephesus, and say, Little children, love one another." He returned from his banishment, and lived till the third or fourth year of Trajan; so that he must have been nearly a hundred years of age when he died. The appellation of Divine given to St. John is not canonical; but was first applied to him by Eusebius, on account of those mysterious and sublime points of Divinity, with the knowledge of which he seems to have been favoured above his fellow Apostles. 28. Holy Innocents. This festival is kept to commemorate the slaughter of the Jewish Children by Herod. This is also called Childermas-Day, [from Child and Mass] on account of the Masses said in the Romish Church for the souls of the Innocents. 31. Silvester I. succeeded Miltiades in the Papacy of Rome, A.D. 314. He is said to have been the author of several rites and ceremonies of the Romish Church. He died in 334. THE COMPLAINT OF 1821. NEGLECT is of all other injuries the most insupportable. So long as we share our misfortunes with another we find comfort in the association of misery; but when the world "bids the stricken deer go weep," the consciousness of being thus abandoned by the herd, and driven into solitude to brood over our sorrows alone, wrings the heart with unutterable anguish. To be thus neglected and forgotten by those who once vied with each other in expressing their interest and regard for the now forsaken individual, who were clamorous in their applause, and who, from day to day, renewed their assurances of the most lively attachment and devotion, is of itself a source of sufficient vexation and disappointment. But when this neglect proceeds from an avowed preference for another, it sharpens the pang exceedingly, and charges the cup of wretchedness with peculiar bitterness. The feeling thus produced deserves a gentler name than jealousy, if the indifference shown to the sufferer should prove undeserved; if it arise not so much from any declension in the charms of the neglected, as from the superior attractions of the new favourite. Our readers will judge of the merits of the following complaint with these considerations before them. MR. EDITOR,-I appeal to the justice and humanity of your readers, on the cruelty which I have experienced from those, who but a few hours ago were my professed friends, and seemed indeed to live but for me. I must acknowledge, however, that for some time past I have observed symptoms of their declining regard, which have been gradually increasing. I found myself less the subject of conversation than in the earlier days of my popularity; and of late whispers began to be circulated in favour of another, of whom great promises were entertained. These whispers, at first scarcely audible, arose into open declaration. My young and sanguine suitors began to avow the delight with which they expected her approach. Her smiles, her loveliness, her wealth, were minutely described; were dwelt upon with rapture, and anticipated with the most ardent hope. 1 found myself already supplanted in their thoughts, and at length my name was never mentioned but with symptoms of weariness and impatience, while every tongue was employed in describing the splendid appearance, or in estimating the future fortune of my rival; and imagination was on the rack as to the probable choice of her favourites, and the distinctions she would bestow on those who devoted themselves most sedulously to her service. It would ill become me to vaunt my own praises upon so trying an occasion; but I cannot forbear to assure you, in common justice to my patient disposition, that throughout the whole of this unfeeling conduct I never resented their behaviour, until long after my ungrateful admirers had given such proofs of falsehood and inconstancy, as left no doubt of their intention to transfer to another the attentions they once lavished upon me. With that propriety which distinguishes the conduct of the fair sex, I had met their advances with great coldness on my first introduction to the world, and received their fondest protestations with reserve, not unveiling the beauties bestowed on me by Nature, until an acquaintance of some months had authorized a more familiar display of my charms, and the sensation of that warmth which those only know who bask in the smiles of friendship. Even among my warmest friends I never exposed my features to their uninterrupted gaze. My countenance was always observed to beam with less fire and animation while dressed in the sober attire of morning, and I invariably withdrew from their view at the close of the day, coneealing myself beneath a dark veil suited to the solemnity of night. Some dissatisfied beings among the earliest of my admirers, very soon began to talk of me with disrespect, and an illnatured remark would now and then escape from others, which I always attributed to the disappointment of those unreasonable expectations, which no kindness will satisfy. Of the favours I had to bestow all could not be partakers; and as every one was a candidate for the highest distinctions, it was natural to expect that many must be disgusted, and would leave me dissatisfied. Thus the time passed away, the greater part of my lovers still showing me the highest regard. My name was on every one's lips, and I dispensed my smiles on all with the most steady impartiality. The number of my defamers increased, and that of my lovers lessened, however, as the period of my departure was anticipated. Can it be then wondered, that I should begin to show a coldness to those whose attentions visibly declined; or that the sunshine of my favour (to use a figurative expression) should beam with less warmth on the inconstant world. I have the satisfaction of knowing they felt this change severely; my coldness pierced some of them to the heart; and though they were too proud to confess it, they were rendered very uncomfortable by it. I acknowledge, that, in re turn for their cruel ingratitude, 1 have been often of late lost in a tempest of anger; I have passed whole days drowned in tears; and sometimes could not help storming at the baseness of those who thus transferred to another, before my face, those regards which almost for a twelvemonth had been exclusively bestowed on me. The selfishness of my admirers was very conspicuous in all their base behaviour towards me. So long as they fancied they had any thing to gain from me, nothing could exceed their respect and adulation; but so soon as they foresaw they might possibly gain from another what they fancied I had once promised them, that moment they forsook my service, and railed at me as a deceiver. It is proper you should be acquainted, Sir, that I am one of a very large family, and that my mother is still so fruitful, that our number is annually increased. My elder sisters have been necessarily the victims of the same disappointment and ingratitude, of which I have so much reason to complain, and looked upon me a year ago with the same mortification, for supplanting them in the favour of the world, as I now do upon my younger sister, who, (to use a fashionable phrase,) is just come out, as the rival for whom I am now abandoned. I have no right to be angry with her, indeed, for she has shown no indecent haste to supplant me, nor does she appear to give any warmer encouragement at present to her numberless admirers. Nor, though I acknowledge my charms are not what they were, do I think she looks a bit better than I do, or dresses at present more attractively than myself. But novelty is quite sufficient to fix the attention of the world; and 1 doubt not my poor sister, a year hence, will have to complain of the very same neglect which I now suffer. Although we have thus successively fallen into disregard, I should observe, that all of us retain some admirers still. Even the oldest of the family do not remain wholly neglected; and though I must own they are a little antediluvian in their character and manners, they have many in their service, especially among the clergy, who bestow on them considerable regard, and they amply reward their attention. Some of them, not quite so antiquated, receive much homage from learned doctors, pedagogues and their scholars, though I must confess the latter are frequently compelled to bestow these marks of attention upon them, much against their inclination, and oftentimes under terror of the rod. Many learned antiquaries are in their list of admirers, though I think the black-letter gentlemen of that society take peculiar pleasure in the company of those of more middle age, absolutely losing themselves sometimes in their company, and committing the most extravagant mistakes, unde the delusions with which my sisters cheat them. Politicians devote what time they can spare from their assiduities to the "reigning toast," to those of my sisters who were born in later years; and I observe every body seems to have a lingering attachment to those of their own age, and look back with peculiar fondness to the days when they were playmates. It is not a little remarkable, however, that the oldest and the wisest, as well as the most frivolous and inconsiderate, conceal a sneaking kindness for my younger sister, of whom, as yet, they know nothing but on report; and though ashamed to confess their weakness, betray themselves by those accidental expressions of hope and future expectation, which but ill suit with reputation for wisdom and reverence. I should not be surprised, indeed, to learn, that even you, Mr. Editor, have a little of the same partiality to her; and while I have fancied myself addressing a confidential friend, that I may, after all, have been betraying my weakness to a zealous admirer of my rival. 1 am, Sir, your much-neglected servant, EDITOR-L. 1821. MAXIMS: SELECTED FROM SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. WEIGH not so much what men say, as what they prove. Deceit cannot otherwise be maintained than by deceit. How pitiable is that vanity which possesseth many, to make a perpetual mansion of this poor baiting-place of man's life. The universal and only Wisdom, Almighty God, which examineth the depth of hearts, hath not his judgments fixed upon the event of our actions, but the motive. FROM "WARWICK'S SPARE MINUTES." We are not rich or poor by what we possess, but by what we desire. For he is not rich that hath much, but he that hath enough. Hypocrisy desires to seem good rather than to be so; honesty desires to be good rather than seem so. It is some hope of goodness not to grow worse: it is a part of badness not to grow better. |