it in set speech, and you hear not the slightest intimation of dollars; look into the Yankee countenance, which is cheerfully bright without reflecting any information into your mind, yet it is ten to one that there lurks beneath it the knowledge of some model, of which the sticks are already whittling; the patent of some machine which shall draw snags out of the Mississippi; some grind-stone, worked by dog-power; some 'self-acting back-action saussage-stuffer;' some pump-handle of peculiar construction; some stove, button, baby-tender, or other of the most ingenious mysteries of inventive man. Yet all is quiet on the face of Jonathan - quiet as the grave; and nobody could know that he was making a machine, or that the machine was making money. His image is contemplative, like Icarus at his wing; spiritual, acute, keen-visaged, slab-sided, turning a nutmeg with a jacknife.

It will be perceived that this representation is very different from the madness which caused all eyes to swell out with greediness when the great land-speculation was just ready to burst. That was a spirit which involved all ranks and conditions, swept onward with fury to its object, and openly avowed its lust of gain. We have seen at what price lots' were sold; surveying was practised with great activity, and the charms of nature were encroached upon by gloomy towns; lovers could not find a place in the country to breathe their affections, in consequence of the opening of streets; and men were guilty of turning their sweet flower-gardens into the place of buildings; at least they were guilty of it in thought. To this day sarcastic sign-boards point out the names of avenues, once the pasture-ground of cattle and waving with corn, now common to all travellers, with here and there a scanty tenement, to which is guaranteed the eternal right of way. LongIsland was all lithographed. East New-York, with its twenty-four broad avenues, named after the States of the Union, still shows little more than the Great Idea of its founder: the land lies as fair as any thing could be;' the position is excellent; and there is no telling why 'capitalists' have not built on this valuable but much-abused property.' Many an acre now lies in unredeemed and irredeemable barrenness; and six ages would glory in being able to fill up the magnificent plan.

When this tide had lifted to the highest point of prosperity those who had taken it at the flood, it suddenly subsided and left the remaining adventurers on the bare ground. While the former had scarcely tasted of their sweet fortune, and the latter had begun to learn the uses of adversity, the LITTLE SPECULATION' sprung up, to work a second ruin for both. The calm spirit of speculation again gave way to the fanaticism of the time, and the knowing and quiet look was exchanged for the fiery eyes which devoured wealth. Fortunately at this time the end was more culpable than the means. Before, they only cut down and scattered; they now planted, and the progress of their toil was at least marked with verdure and a pleasant shadow. With the introduction of Morus Multicaulis, the culture of silk in this climate seemed no longer to be a problem. This was to give a new impulse to home industry, to introduce among us a new article of luxury, and to open the flood-gates of wealth. It was going to be a great thing for the

country, a great thing for individuals; whoever came first would reap the most golden rewards. Then the scramble began to get a few slips of the precious shrub, which was sold at a great price, by which several became rich. Whoever had a little money, invested it without delay; or a few acres of ground, rooted out his currant-bushes, and every root which was the slow growth of years, to make room for the rapid Multicaulis. Every nook and angle was green with its luxury of vegetation. There were plantations enough to supply all Christendom with silks, and to furnish every house with royal luxury. It was not every root or branch or slip, but every single bud was nurtured with jealous care under glasses and in hot beds, that propagation might not be retarded by the winter's cold. So have we seen a lamb nurtured, of the Merino kind; clothed with a flannel waistcoat after it had just been born, to protect it from piercing winds, in hopes to make its owner rich; but this came to an end when it was slaughtered and sold in the market for poor mutton; and though there was much cry' there turned out to be little wool.' It was a capital remedy for indigestion, to see one who had been so unfortunate as to lose money by Merino sheep, hoeing mulberries on his own building-lots!

At last, when it became evident that there was no farther demand for trees, and that the rage for speculation in this line had vented its utmost, the silk-growers entered upon their business in earnest. The feasibility

of the thing was already proved in books; the whole method of proceeding admirably laid down in diagrams. Should farther proof be demanded, it had been already subjected to the sure touch-stone of success. If any plan works well upon a small scale, scientific men' cannot detect any difficulty in overcoming greater resistance; although certain wheels have been known to roll emolliently in air that came to a dead stand in a denser medium. The early symptoms of success became the precursors of a dreadful mortality in worms. The first samples of reeled silk, the first beautiful golden-colored cocoons, were shown with triumph. Their glossy staple was superior to the best of Italy. Very few people with a little money to spare, very few poor women with a little patch of land or garden, had not made some investment in mulberries, and now looked for their remuneration. A few Jonathans, who had been bitten with real estate, stood aloof from the silken meshes of the Little Speculation,' and invented a variety of reels, for which they took out a patent. All facilities were at hand for 'going into the business' upon a grand scale. The eye of Hope swelled out with a greedy prominence; Fustian dreamed of silk; and many 'calculated,' who fell lamentably short of their calculations. We e are acquainted for the most part with the fickle, false character of what are called 'estimates.' They are wrought out with great facility of figures, and fill up distances as big as that betwixt a penny and a pound. Their formula is, 'Say from five, ten, fifteen, or even twenty-five;' then indeed they acknowledge themselves 'rough,' but impose more on the unsophisticated mind by a certain vague sublimity. Wo to an 'enterprise,' when men of 'great enthusiasm' have set out upon it in the highest spirits,' and the estimates are all made out;' when all

things augur of success,' and the auspices were never more fair.' While on the subject of estimates, something very much to the point occurs to me at present in the history of one

Pling Hopper.

He came to Crow-Hill, near Tinnecum, from Green-grass Meadow in Connecticut, where he had saved up fifty dollars by selling eggs. By all who knew him he had the reputation of having his eye-teeth well cut. A single glance at him conveyed the idea of his great sharpness. Although there was a vast deal of character in his whole person; his nose, his shoulder-blades, his belly, his legs, his shins, heightened by his appropriate garb, breeches screwed up tight to his deficient posteriors, a small rag of a neckcloth, and an indescribable hat; his chief essence consisted in his eye, which twinkled with a mild beam, and sometimes flashed up like gunpowder in a pan. This extraordinary brilliance seldom occurred except on the same instant with some stroke of policy, or when he had sold three eggs for a shilling. But there was always a light burning, enough to light him the length of his nose, and to enable him to see into a pine board as far as other men. I have never seen a fox's eyes when he had his own interest at stake, or a coon's eyes peering about on the crowds at a whig mass-meeting, exhibit a more curious expression. He knew a little about fowls; checked an incipient pip; had a method to prevail on hens to lay, and other valuable information to boot, although he had never read The Poultry-Yard,' written by Micajah Cock. He seldom gave his bantam chickens time to leave the nest, when pricking up his ears at the first cackle, he strode hastily over the dung-hill to snatch up the fresh egg. Thieves so abounded at Green-grass Meadow! Parkins,' said he, coming at once to the point, 'somebody stole two black-hen's eggs out o' that 'ere hovel yesterday may-be twa' n't you?'

'Me!' answered the shameless loafer, only a little confused; then I must a-been drunk.'

"May-be somebody did n't see you?'

'In course, if any body see me, then it must a-been me. Howsomever, taint so.'

'Parkins, if you do n't bring me twelve eggs afore sun-down I'll have you took up.'

The most far-reaching persons may perhaps over-reach themselves. Acute as he was, Mr. Hopper did get a little taken in in his estimates.' He laid out his hen's-egg money in the purchase of fifty green sprigs

of the morus multicaulis, at a dollar a-piece. This was dog-cheap to what they had been selling. He calculated' that each one of these sprigs would contain at the least ten buds. These buds, planted in hotbeds, would shoot up into luxuriant bushes before spring, containing root and branch twenty or thirty germs each, which set out in the open ground would produce leaves enough to feed half a million worms; which would spin so many bushels of cocoons; which would be equal to so many pounds of reeled silk; which would pay back the hen's-egg money in the first year, with profit at the rate of a thousand per cent, and on the second enable him to retire from the business, and buy the whole State of Connecticut out and out. The sequel of this was, that all his plants died an unnatural death before spring, from being so dreadfully cut up, and he went about the collection of fresh hen's-eggs with a heavy heart. It is of the very nature and spirit of a dangerous speculation never to be taught by its bitter experience, and never to stop short of absolute destruction. This led Pliny Hopper, who was infatuated in spite of his ill fortune, a step farther to retrieve his error.

Just at this time a man named Bilcox came to reside in his vicinity. Two words will suffice to picture him to the life. He had lost all his character before his money, and never had any sense to lose. He was living in a sort of banishment from society, and having saved two horses from the general wreck, flourished about' continually. He was 'a dreadful fellow to talk,' yet no reliance was to be placed upon a word he said. In a free-and-easy flow of conversation he represented himself as an enthusiastic advocate of the culture of the silk. Hopper, poor fellow! was enchanted with him, and said he never see a smarter man in his life.' He revived his spirits, which began to droop like the tail of old Pete Richings, his best barn-yard cock, in a drenching rain. My friend,' said he, for Bilcox always thus prefaced his remarks, do n't cry for spilt milk: keep a stiff upper lip; all come right enough yet. Ha! do n't tell me! a beautiful operation may be made of it. What I say is this a few thousands may be realized between us this season. I'm a man of leisure. I'll overlook the business with you. There's my horse. There's my stable for a cocoonery -ha! my friend, for a cocoonery! Nothing like going into it. Make hay while the sun shines. Yes, my friend; I'll read books, consult cyclopaedias, get the freshest information; look out for a market, devise plans, write letters to the first men of the country; attend to the accounts, see that the cocoons are sent to the best markets, and put money in the bank! my friend, I'll see to all this: make your mind easy. I'm an old stager; I been to Rome; seen the Pontine marshes; been all over the silk factories abroad. You raise fifty dollars to buy leaves with leave the rest to me. We'll make it work; bet you this gold watch I'll make the fifty, five thousand; bet you drinks of it. Ha! my friend!

Hopper's eye twinkled a moment in dubious uncertainty, then stood still in its socket with an unfathomable cunning. He examined Bilcox from head to foot, rolled his tobacco about his cheek in silence, and having blown his nose, and snapped his fingers, replied:

'I guess I'll do it. I don't mean to lose nothin' this time. I guess we won't nary one on us lose nothing.'

So the affair was settled. A small mulberry orchard was hired for the season, and Mr. Hopper went busily to work to gather all the rough boards which he could find, and to fit up a cocoonery in Bilcox's stable. The latter gentleman was compelled to buy the eggs, in spite of all his reasonings to the contrary. Several ounces were procured, which began to hatch out before their time, and the young worms starved to death. That's a mere circumstance,' said Bilcox; served 'em right for coming before there were any leaves to feed 'em on. Don't let that concern you, my friend. Bless my soul! what little wee things! Go and dig a hole in the cellar, will you? More left than we know what to do with. Never you fear. Keep your eye on me. I'll show you a thing or two. My friend, it's all right enough; those that come out first are sickly like enough they 've got the yellows.'

By the time the spring fairly opened, and the morus multicaulis put forth its succulent young leaves, Mr. Hopper was out in all weathers with a basket on his arm, while Bilcox sat in the cocoonery, with spectacles on nose, peering over the shelves, with philosophical interest. It was at first a small matter to furnish such minute creatures, no bigger than a pin's point, with the nourishment of their lives; but they grew insensibly in size and in a most ravenous appetite. From covering a superficies so large as a common newspaper, they gradually occupied a whole building, while in the mulberry orchard wheel-barrows were soon substituted for baskets, and a wagon instead of wheel-barrows. They were all doing remarkably well, and on a moderate calculation would spin at least five thousand dollars worth of silk.

The first vexatious circumstance which a little damped the ardor of Mr. Hopper, was on returning one day laden with leaves, to find his whole regiment of barn-yard fowls scratching away on the shelves, where they had made an incursion, and in a few minutes eaten up a great number of worms. D'rat it!' exclaimed he, dropping his baskets in a fury, 'shëu! shëu! shëu! Who 'd ever ha' thought that hens would eat 'em!'

'Hens eat 'em!' remarked his coadjutator; to be sure they will: never you mind that, my friend. Don't let such a little thing as that fret you. We'll provide against that in future. Keep your eye on me : I'll show you a trick worth two of that,'

It was really a matter of deep interest to watch the silk-worms in their several stages; how they toiled on in their ugly destiny, shuffling off coil after coil, and from each dormant state coming out in sleek and spotted beauty. At length, from being a mere speck, they turned out as thick as your little finger, committing great havoc among the leaves, clipping the edge of the multicaulis in a semi-circular manner, and the sound of their mastication was like the pattering of a great rainstorm upon a roof. The neighbors looked over their operations with extreme wonder. It was more interesting than bees issuing from their hives on their industrious errands, returning with their opima spolia, delicious spoils, or hanging like a bunch of grapes when they were about to swarm in the air, to watch these creatures crawling through their lives, and weaving their own winding-sheet before they died. If all had gone through this process, then Pliny Hopper had been rich.