the broad mirror, which hung at the end of the apartment, reflecting the image of a very handsome and well dressed man.. "You have made quite a discovery. You deserve credit; but they won't believe you, Kate; good bye;" and, flinging across his shoulders a Spanish cloak, of blue cloth, whose ample folds fell in drapery around his stately form, he placed a ten dollar beaver upon his pericranium, and made his exit.

Mr. Charles Lawton was a gentleman in every sense of the word. His address was a sufficient recommendation into every circle of society. His person marked him for one of partial nature's favorites; his disposition candid, generous, and noble; his mind acute, powerful, and highly cultivated. He had one fault, or rather two, and they were his whiskers! They seemed naturally gifted with an inordinate growing force, which he was at no trouble to restrain. The consequence was, that from his cheek bones to his throat, and from the back of his neck to the curl of his chin, he was nothing but whiskers. Our essay commenced with a dialogue upon this very subject. Now, to rear an unexceptionable pair of whiskers requires taste and discernment. It is a task of the most difficult kind, fraught with various dangers. They may be too small-that's bad; or they may be overgrown-that's monstrous. There is a kind of Scylla and Charybdis in the endeavor. There are whiskers that are not written. There is a kind of man incompetent to raise them. The upper part of the cheek is as smooth as a girl's, while, from the barren soil of the jaw bone, some few unfortunate creatures struggle up into a melancholy and dubious existence, so far apart, that if they had voices they could scarcely converse without a speaking trumpet. "The attempt, and not the deed, confounds us." I pity such a gentleman from the bottom of my soul.

But this is an evil of comparatively inferior importance. It is the amazing increase in size, and multiplication of the number of this article of personal decoration which prompts me to solicit the attention of the civilized world. They find their way into all companies. Balls and parties are overshadowed by their presence; even the purity and brightness of the domestic circle are violated; and you may find a gentle youth, who yet "speaks

small like a woman," with his visage garnished like the great mogul. I am not easily susceptible to terror; but confess the rapid strides which this fashion makes startled me, and urged me to many profound meditations. I am an American, and I love my country. The interest I felt in her welfare urged me on. From cogitations I proceeded to inquiry; investigation led to discovery; until I succeeded in unfolding one of the most anti-republican and diabolical conspiracies which ever_threatened the independence of a free and happy people.

A secret society has been organized, entitled the "Whiskerandos and Mustachio Confederation," conceived and headed by two or three noted characters in this city. They hold their midnight conclave in a subterranean apartment beneath "Bluebeard Hall." Don Felix Furioso has arrived from Spain; and with Gen. Scrubbingbrush from Bear Island in the Arctic ocean, (the one distinguished for having put a band of robbers to flight in the middle of the darkest night in December, by merely putting his head out of the mail coach window; and the other for having thrown a whale into convulsions, off Labrador, which incautiously ventured near enough to look into the cabin windows as he was shaving the tip of his chin,) have been invited here to superintend the execution of their nefarious designs to overturn all our institutions, abrogate the laws, subvert the constitution, and deliver us up to the dominion of Prince Daredevil, of a little island in the South Pacific ocean, latitude ninety, who shaves every part of his face except the end of his nose. All who join their society are to cultivate this badge of distinction to the greatest possible extent. The members of this dangerous tribunal are heedless of all consequences. The dearest social relations are to be rent asunder, rather than yield a hair; and it is astonishing to observe how widely it has already spread. It embraces some of the most wealthy, fashionable, and influential of our citizens. Editors, lawyers, doctors, boys, and old white-headed men. As they become more firmly established, they are gradually throwing off caution. The mustachio is soon to be mounted by young Mr. Q., who lately won the affections of several interesting young women by displaying a blue check collar; and who has since broken off

several promising matches, and flung four milliner girls, six chamber maids, thirteen belles, and one married woman, into galloping consumptions, by paying his addresses to them without any collar at all. Monsieur Temeraire, from Paris, has an assortment on hand for those who are unfortunate in the upper lip. They are manufactured out of the horsehair, fastened with adhesive plaster, and are positively superior in fierceness and irresistibility to every other kind. Monsieur Temeraire has the honor to announce to his friends in particular, and the public in general, that he certainly must excel in this valuable art, as he spent fourteen years among the Russian bears, with the sole intention of studying the spirit of their countenances. He flatters himself that, by following his directions in regard to whiskers and mustachios, he can transform the smoothest, genteelest, and most interesting youth, so as to be distinguished from a bear itself only upon the closest examination.

This is a crisis of infinite danger, and I hope pens abler than mine will resume the subject. I recommended the mayor to order out the militia; but Mr. Bowne assured me that the officers were generally leading men in the "Whiskerandos and Mustachio Confederation," and have therefore set their faces against any interference. I then resolved to apply to the editors to publish my fears; but upon entering into the closet of one of our most celebrated, I was startled to find myself alone, in a little room twelve by ten, door shut, with a pair of whiskers of the most threatening aspect. As the only resource, I propose that we organize a society to be entitled the "Anti-Whiskerandos and Mustachiod Confederacy Society." It shall be a stock company; if the legislature also are not too far gone to grant a charter, with a capital of a hundred millions of dollars. A meeting of the citizens opposed to whiskers, including women and children, is requested in the Park on the eighth day of January, A. D. 1830, when measures will be taken to prepare a petition to congress for the purpose of excluding from office every man of whiskers, of making the oath of lawyers, that they will support the constitution and wear no whiskers, and of rendering mustachios a capital offence.

THE QUIET MAN.

You would have been delighted with him. He was so unobtrusive, so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of stillness. He was a living rebuke to every thing in nature. His tongue was a superfluity. The rose that unfolds its soft leaves noiselessly in the green house, and blooms and withers and says never a word, had an existence that he might have envied, or a stream that lapses along delusively without a ripple, his abhorrence of confusion, exercise, and riot, was so deep rooted. I have seen him walk fifty yards around an old cow, reclining in the shade, rather than disturb her cogitations. At school he used to let the birds out of the cages, the mice out of the traps. He would rather suffer any privation than speak. It was wonderful. He was a statue. A bustle acted on him like a spell. A stranger put him on the rack. He closed up in company like a sensitive plant; and the exquisitely susceptible leaves of his mind drew themselves in and shrunk, the moment he was driven from the atmosphere of his own circle. Poor, dear Alfred, to what excruciations he must have been exposed. How the rattle and thunder, the jolting, pushing, and pulling, and all the everlasting agitations and discords of this restless world, must have jarred upon his gentle spirit. What loathings and thrillings, what tremblings and shudderings must have made up the history of his existence. Have you never observed, my attentive reader, if you are afflicted with any wound, a broken arm, a gash upon your finger, or a foot encumbered with one of those visitations of humanity, which defy philosophy to tell the use of, what a tacit and unanimous consent appears to prevail among all your acquaintance to bring themselves violently in contact with the affliction? So it was with Alfred. Every disturbance pursued him. He went to a remote country village, and a barrel of powder exploded under his window. He visited a vessel of war in the bay, but had no sooner set his foot on deck than orders were given

for a salute. He spent a month in the West Indies, and was driven away by an earthquake. He was on board the steam boat when the boiler burst and in the Albany stage when it overturned. They have lately enlisted him in the militia, though a drum sets his teeth on edge. Poor, dear Alfred! my heart bleeds for him. Yet, in a private corner, who ever spoke more to the purpose? Who ever amassed a greater fund of observation? Who could unbosom himself to a friend more delightfully? Who could whisper in a woman's ear more persuasively? How he pours out his very soul in a letter! What a companion he would make in a prison! What a husband! What a father! What an ornament to society, if he could but talk! What a happy fellow if nature had given him nerve to bear the crash and riot of worldly life.

I met him one morning last summer on my way to the Albany steam boat, and was pleased to learn that he was bound on the same journey.

"I am going," said he, "to fly from the hubbub of the city, and indulge myself for a month with a country life. Nothing like rural quiet! I shall live till I come back to this infernal bedlam."

As we approached the ferry, a gigantic, ruffian looking personage grasped his arm, with

"Have a hack, sir?"

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Any oranges today, sir?" said a boy.

Buy a paper?" screamed another.

"Out of the way!" thundered a cartman, as the wheel passed within an inch of our feet.

"Clear the road!" bawled a traveller, panting and dripping with haste, thinking he was too late for the boat.

"All on board!" shouted the captain.

The man rang the bell. The steam was let off, bursting by fits from the pipe, the wheel turned and splashed, and the dusty throng gave way to the green waves. “Thank heaven!" said Alfred, uncovering his ears, and taking a long breath, "Now for the country."

A shower came up suddenly, and drove all the passengers into the cabin. Babies screamed. A lap dog, banished by the corporation law, began to bark. A gentleman at our back favored us with random passages