After all, I sometimes endeavor to persuade myself that it is a mere matter of taste. We have no reason to suppose that Lazarus was the worst name in the Hebrew genealogy. It must be confessed, however, that there are some disagreeable associations connected with it, aside from its sound; and, to speak the plain truth, it is a most disgusting appellation, fit only for a monkey. Yet I am compelled to bear it about with me--a thorn in the flesh, from which I cannot escape; it adheres to me like the poisoned tunic of Nessus. I would appeal to the Massachusetts Legislature, but my friends have a decided partiality for Lazarus, and would never know me by any other name. So, as Lazarus I have lived, Lazarus will I die. I have redeemed my father's error, in naming my own children; I cannot, 'tis true, rub off the Rust: but, for the matter of Christian names, I defy the Directory to furnish a more princely list. When my eldest son was born, I vowed he should never be ashamed of his name, so I called him Henry Arthur Augustus George Bellville--so far, so good--it breaks my heart to add--Rust. The sly rogue has since improved his cognomen, by spelling it with a final e--thus: Henry A. A. G. B. Ruste--how it takes off the romance to add--eldest son of Lazarus Rust, esq.! Finally, as I have the misfortune, like my namesake of old, to be of that class of mortals, denominated "poor devils," I can say, with the utmost sincerity, "who steals _my_ purse, steals trash; and he who filches from me my good name," has decidedly the worst of the bargain. J. D. For the Southern Literary Messenger. The following lines are from the pen of Dr. _J. R. Drake_. Sacred be his memory! A warmer patriot never breathed. The piece was written at the time of the invasion, and but a few days previous to the brilliant victory of the eighth of January. It is addressed to the defenders of New Orleans. Hail! sons of gen'rous valor! Who now embattled stand, To wield the brand of strife and blood, For freedom and the land; And hail to him your laurel'd chief! Around whose trophied name, A nation's gratitude has twin'd, The wreath of deathless fame. Now round that gallant leader, Your iron phalanx form; And throw, like ocean's barrier rocks, Your bosoms to the storm-- Though wild as ocean's waves it rolls, Its fury shall be low-- For justice guides the warrior's steel, And vengeance strikes the blow. High o'er the gleaming columns The banner'd star appears; And proud, amid the martial band, His crest the Eagle rears-- As long as patriot valor's arm Shall win the battle's prize, That star shall beam triumphantly-- That Eagle seek the skies.