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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont fllm6s en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'Impresslon ou d'illustratlon et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole —*- signlfie "A SUIVRE ", le symbole V signlfie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cllch6, 11 est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'Images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. errata I to I i pelure, on i 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 & <. THE HISTOIilCAL AND SCTENTIFTC H kMl"'^ i'M *, i lll;i liV MISCELLAKi'; t fe ^oah at nnimsul liiirndf a^f : coMPPismo IMrORTANT EVENTS IN XIIE IHSTOBY of THE WORLD. BIOGHAPHIOAl. 8KSTCUEK 0?. MANY OF THB OllEAT STATESMEN, ORATOT^S AND POETS, ' i'HE r-' .TEST .RMS Of LiiKit* HiiiCt: t V», AXl, INTEKIrWlSO ANP IMPOKTAT.T l)ISSBBTATIOa« BPOK ril'^ UoKF(;t AETii ASIl 8CIS.>«CKS, SI."".a AS AQTROSiOMY, C UEMIbTR Y AND L'). liLOSOPHY, muor .)f ■ itlantrat^a Description of the Ilussixu Kmpiro armie, »nH m^r.<.i.„ i» Family Bible ; " " HiRtorf of iha Holy iimo," &« , '&o ILLUL^TiUTui'. Wmi UVi'R TWO IIUNDRFI.) ENGRAVINGS. TWO VOLUMl.:S IN (.)N''E. OOTVr MBX7S, O. ^n ■ ERT & LxJ. LEY, PUBLfSIlEH*^ 18 7, J Ifc. in '•^^•i'& -nw «w>iiiwii ii ii >»rrit I'IpMwii 1^11 1 THE HISTORICAL AND SCIENTIFIC AMEKICAIf MISCELLANY; A couPFisixa IMPORTANT EVENTS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, BIOQBAPHICAL SKETCHES or MANY OP THE GREAT STATESMEJf, ORATORS AND POETS, OF DIFPBUHT A0R9 AND Dn-KBBKHT COUHTBIBS. THE CHOICEST GEMS OF LITERATURE. DBWRIMIVI MgATS, AKD INTKBE8T.NO AND IMPOBTANT DI88KBTATI0N8 UPOK THB DBBFOL AUTg AND SCIBNCM, SDCH AS ASTRONOMY, CHEMISTRY AND PHILOSOPHY. BY KOBERT SE^RS, ILLUSTRATED WITH OVER TWO HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. COLUMBUS, O. SIEBERT & LILLEY, PUBLISHERS. 1867. Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year i860, bt henry miller & CO., I Ue Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United Statei, in and for the Southern Diatriot of OUo. nsHN • budi, ramut. nnnv * ulut, aiaBiaa. /2 "//if Jm — »« f{Ce BSO, nd for the Southen ■nt * uiuT, lA / 2,i. PREFACE. T is a trite and oft-repeated observation, that "knowledge is power." It was this that raised Franklin from the humble station of a printer's boy to the first honors of his country ; that took Sherman from his shoemaker's bench, gave him a seat in Congress, and there made his voice to be heard among the wisest and best of his compeers ! It raised Simpson from the weaver's loom to a place among the first of mathematicians, and Herschel, from being a poor fifer's boy in the army, to a station among the first of astronomers. It is the philoso- pher's stone — the true alchymy that turns everything it touches into gold. It is the sceptre that gives us dominion over nature ; the key that unlocks the storehouse of creation, and opens the treasures of the universe! The prime object of this Work is to disseminate this knowledge, combining useful information, fitted alike to the capacity of the child and the adult. It is intended also as a depository of valuable stores, garnered up from sources which, fiom their magnitude, rarity, and costliness, are as sealed fountains to the great mass of the reading community. In this volume, the choicest read- ing is presented in a condensed form, illustrative of History, Geography, the Fine Arts, Natural History, Agriculture and Rural Economy, Arts and Sciences, Biography, Travels, &c. ; all of which are illus- trated by engravings, several hundred in number — some of which are from original drawings, made expressly l,. 'ha Work \ thus adding to the interest of the text, by a direct appeal to the eje, conveying a more vivid and accurate impression of the subject than could otherwise be given. Thus the title, " The American Miscellany, " it has been the aim of the editor to sus- tain by the nature of its contents, comprising the several branches of general knowledge, fitted to supply the means of mental improvement and self-education. " For," says an eminent writer, '• of all the amusements that can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man after his daily toil, or in its intervals, there is nothing like reading. It calls for no bodily exertion, of which he has already had enough, or perhaps too much. It relieves his home of its dulness and sameness. It transports him into a livelier and gayer, and more diversified ■•«"»■■■'■*(■ I PRBfACB. and interesting scene ; and, while he enjoys himself there, he may forget the evils of the present moment, with the great advantage of finding himself iIh next day with the money in his pocket, or at least laid out in real necessuiies and comforlfl for himself and family, and without a headache. Nay, it accom- panies him to his next day's work, and, if what he had been reading be any- thing above the idlest and lightest, gives him something to thi;;k of, besides the mere mechanical drudgery of his every-day occupation — something he can enjoy while absent, and look forward to with pleasure. If I were to pray for a taste which should stand me instead, under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading." « The cordial welcome with which his former Works have been received, and their widely-extended popularity, induce the editor to cherish the hope that the present volume will be favored with a reception no less fluttering to his efforts. In the sincere aim to present a volume of solid, instructive, and entertaining reading, fraught with a direct moral and religious tendency, and thus adapted to improve the heart while it instructs the head — a volume especially suited to the domestic circle, ho can not but fnel conscious that his labors have in some fort deserved this compliment ii ti- HI f, he may forget the finding hiinMcIf tin in real ncccssariefi e. Nay, it nccom- !0n reading bo aiiy- hii.'lc of, bcaides tlie ■something he can ^ were to pray for a circumstances, and life, ond a shield frown upon me, it been received, and h the hope that the jring to his;efforls. e, and entertaininff , and thus adapted sspecially suited to ibors have in some TABLE OF CONTENTS. AgrlcultnrsI Soienc* paoi 140 Allittons' AphorUtuM 415 Amtirica i3g American Continent 174 American Scenerjr 270 Amhoret College, with new Cabinet and Ob- lerratory 488 Anclunt Um of Klephanti in War 116 Amient Wine-Preis 131 Aitronomy, Lecture* on. ..72, 119, 185, 209. 232, 316 1 1 ; D«auty of a Benerolent Life .'.V.'.!l59 Belem or Para 260 biography of John Wlnthrop, Fiwt Oct- ' ernor of Magflachoiietts 178 Biography of Hon. Robert C. Wlnthrop.... 425 Biography of Rev Spencer H. Cone 499 Blankets 32 Bonks— their Publioatlon and Circulation.. 78 Bo-Peep 80 Boston Common 52 Boston Custom Houie 396 Boston Water- Works 494 Boundlessness of the Material UniTe««....108 Bounties of Nature 85 Bounties of Providence ~ 329 Bowling Green .','496 Burial Places and Foneral Rights 23 Burying a Priest In Slam 386 Burying Beetle 446 Catacombs of Paris 478 Christmas in Germany 33 Christopher Columbus, and the DiscoTery of America 342 Church of St. Qudule, firussala .218 Cincinnati 418 Cod-Fishery '. 1 1] Commerce and Intellectual Eminence 328 Consolations gg Cotton-Bleaching 240 Courtship 202 Croton Aqueduct, New York '.'.!!411 Cultivation of the Mind 157 Cu Mous Clock 288 Curiosities of Arithmetic 256 Curiosities of Art 398 Curiosities of Science 80 Customhouse at Philadelphia 35 ^Dead Sea 77 /Diamonds !!..'.'.".!l26 Divisions of the Globe „..."!278 Duties of Sisters and Brothers 102 Early Pleasure 442 England to America, Address of Rev. Thos. Timpson 258 English Language... ., 287 Esquimaux Indians ^214 Exercise for the Eyes 368 Expulsion of the Aoadians 138 Extent of the Uaited Statu rAOi 39 Fall of Babylon 279 Frankness and Reserve 294 Genius superior to the Sword 647 Girard Colloge for Orphans 471 Gold and Silver Mines of Mexloo 94 Government of the Temper 336 OuHrdian Angel 124 Gutta Percha 239 Habits of the Roman Ladi»s 879 Heat' stone 289 Hindoo Scholar I44 Hotel de Vllle, Paris 476 Hoi^e of Rothschild 388 How to Live 247 How to make Steel Qg Importance of Self-Knowledge 243 Independence end Accumulation 870 Independence Hall, Philadelphia 4M Indian Child's Grave 482 Indian Look 247 Indians in Oregon 288 Infant Education 382 John Hampden 601, John Hancock Ifl John Wlnthrop, Pirf,i; Governor of Conneo- ticut SSQ Kindness and Censoriouiness 113 Landing of Wlnthrop, and Settlement of Boston 462 Law of Kindness....! 308 Llndley Murray 300 Literature of China 260 Literature of the Jews 246 London Gin Palace 135 Lycurgus, the Spari-n Lawgiver 144 Mammon and Mankind 15 Marriage , 255 Massachusetts State House 330 Memoir of Loui* Philippe 226 Memory 407 Mercantile Biography 450 Merchants' Exchange, New York 474 Mexico 205 Migrations of Birds 285 Moral Character of the Monkey 183 Mutual Dependonoe 14 Mutual Instruction Classes 93 Natural Theology 291 Neapolitans on the Seashore 106 Nests of Fishes 148 Now England Liberality, Schools, and In- stitutions , 20 New Houses of Parliament 492 New Year's Day 11 New Zealand 163 Niagara Falls 64, 72 Noah Worcester, the American Apostle of Peace 88 & ^ f " -i '.if* .....J fjfi^ it 6 EMBELLISHMENTS. Night Old City Hall in New York 298 Oregon 338 Our Country , 7 Our Parents 415 Peace Societies 321 Philosophy of a Tear 92 Pilgrim Fathers 419 Pittsburgh 447 Plan for Emancipation 47 Popular Taste 424 Power of Music 193 Progress 306 Public Libraries in Constantinople ,..292 Rambling Essay upon Rooms 372 Remedies against Moths 95 Reserches on Food 14] Russia 198,"206,"406 Saint Pauls Church, New York 312 Saint Petersburg 354 Saint Thomas, West Indies !!240 Scenery in England 480 Secret of Success 296 Self-Qovernment 266 Shakers cf New Lebanon 132 Ship-Anchorage at Whampoa, China 304 Sierra Leone, Western Africa 172 Smithsonian Institute 442 Snow, its Nature, Formation, and Uses 455 Social Influence 134 Solar System 130 Sons of the Ocean „ .....!..332 Sovereigns of £urop« 183 PAOK 130 |S. P. Q. R.— the Roman Standard paob 324 Steubenville, Ohio (57 Switzerland igg Tears "391 The Head and the Heart 3g The Lama 149 The Malays 394 The Niger '.2(i9 The Publication and Circulation of Books.. 78 The Seen and the Unseen 334 The Self- Tormentors 2")0 Trajan and Robert Fulton 267 Travels in the Holy Land.... 40, 58, 98, 150, 185 Tye 203 Vegetable Curiosities , 223 Viaduct over the Patuxent River 86 Visitations of Pestilence 441 Visit to Venice 218 Washington National Monument 431 Oration of Hon. R. C. Winthrop 433 Washington's Residence at New York 69 Wasp Family igQ Western Emigrant 138 Westeni Scenery 324 West Point...., 37^ Whitfield and Wesley 8£ Window Gardening „ 83 Winslow House, Marshfleld 472 Winter Not Monotonous 105 Winthrop Monument 457 Woman 66, 454 Youth and Age.... 409 Zoophites, or Plant Animala 249 EMBELLISHMENTS. DMlp for a Honament to the Memory of Governor WInthrop..j. rRONTUPUCE Wew-Ysar't Day.—" The Compllmonta of the Bea- »on " ,^(,j 13 Portrait of John Hancock, with a Fac-Himlls of his Bienature, copied from the Declaration of Inde- pendence _ ____ ](( The Hancork House. Boston .*..'.'.'.'.".".'."."'.".'."!!!! 17 Ejrj'ptian Funeral Procesaiin 24 Mummy-Caoeg and Marble Sarcophagi SO Tombs of the Kinps of Golconda.T....;. 27 Embal mill);.— The Proccites of Bandiginr and an- cient Egj'ptian Monument* 28 Painting an embalmed Body : designed from the Tomb of Hyder All 7. 20 Horuii of Owhyee ,1 31 Lather and his Family, with their Chrlii'masVree!" 34 Custom House, Philadelphia-(formerly the United Matf 8 Bank) ,^ , 37 OrientJil mode of Truveling "!!.!!!".!!!".!.".""!'.. "" 40 Camels loading prepuratory to etartinc .....'.'.'.". 41 Anbncsmpment 40 Hebron '.......!'.'..'.".'.' 43 Bethlehem !!",".".". 44 Jerusalem, with iU WalU-a"north' "lo new Cabinet and Obtervatory, from the Southwest 480 View of the New Houses of Parliament 403 View of the ilew York Bowling-Green 497 View of .John Hampden'a Residence 5i)l View oT Hampden'a HonnmenI 503 Hindoo "td Krijhna, on an Kiephanu'composed of h mala Attendanta.. . «w 39Bllfe« B »y «....^.....^ „^ „ jio OONTEN"TS. VOLUHB II. Adams' Peak, Ceylon 929 Advantages of a Book „ 631 Alexander the Great 767 Algiers , 726 Alphabetical Writingi 931 American Aborigines 610 Anecdotes of Washington and Morris 790 Animal /lamanity 1022 Animal Language 901 Appearances of Design in Creation. 938 April .. .„ 696 Articles of Dress 700 Auscultation 597 Autobiography 656 August 882 Ararioe 786 Bargain-Hunters 1013 Bay-Tree, the '. 589 Bass-Rock 670 Before and after Dinner 863 Benjamin West 618 Be Industrious 755 Bible, concise History of the 1018 Birds of Paradise 760 Birds, Utility of. 735 Bison, tho 740 Black .ind Grey Squirrels , 544 Borrieaux loil Bottle Tit and Nest '.'.*.'.'.,. 528 Botanic ffardens at Brussels 662 Boa Coii.strictor, the..., 969 Bright Side of Humanity 953lDutieB Burrowing Owl and Prairie Dog 623 Carnival at Rome.. , 636 Castle Howard, England 766 Cataract in Iceland... , 751 Cathedral of Florence 64V Causes of the American Revolution 891 Causes of the French Revolution 794 Cereopsia of New Holland 696 Chamois-Hunting 660 Chatham, Lord 965 Chetah, or Hunting Leopard 1006 China and the Chineae 691 t^ioero 835 Classification of Rooks 830 City of York 917 Colonization of Greenland.. < 733 Cologne, City of. 866 Commerce 738 Commonplace, the 1002 Constancy of Nature 980 Courtesy 950 Cromwell, Oliver 886 Cross Folks 626 Curious Facts about the Spider 894 Death of General Wolfe 954 Death of Little Children 994 Deoember 1005 Description of Texas 669 Disipline of the Eyes 576 Dress, Articles of. 700 Dripping Well at Ku.aresborough 601 to Society, &c 1019 irfidf fr#**f''*!tte CONTENTS. il; :\ I DjBpepsia FAOB 644 Ei^rthquakes 821 Echoes 701 Emulation 956 Eud of Four Great Men 1024 Evaporation, Facts in S46 Eye, the 860 Pair of Reykiarik 854 Fallacy of Proverbs 587 Falls of Tocooa, Georgia 515 Falsehood 811 February 688 Fireplace, History of 808 Fireside Musings 739 Firmness of Character 883 Food of Man 974 Form and structure of the Earth 778 Franklin, Character of. 663 Freedom of the Mind 1011 Friendship 884 Gathering Olives 913 Gems of Thought 971 Genoa 787 Geology, its Objects, &o 743 Geology, Organic Remains, &o 868 Gibraltar 583 Gigantic Birds of Old 749 Gleaners of the Pontine Marshes 895 Glengariff 797 Grandeur of God 570 Greenland, Colonization of 733 Greenwich Observatory 655 Grotto of Neptune, at Tivoli 619 Grotto at Adelsburg 640 Grouse of Europe 709 Gnu, the 954 Habit of Observation 1015 Halls of the Moutezumas 905 Heart, the 936 History of the Fireplace 808 History .562, 935 Home 854 Honor and Truth „ 896 Hope 756 Horology 1024 Horses 928 How to get Rich 679 Human Body, the 763 Humorous People 632 Improvisatore, the 809 Incidents in the Life of Washington 672 Intolerance 877 Iron Age, the 627 Island of Capri 571 January 551 Jugglers of India 606 June 777 Kara Hissar 778 Kinkajou, the 667 Lago Maggiore..... 861 Lammcrgeyer, or Bearded Vulture 991 Landing of Julius Caesar, &o 624 Last Look, the 594 Leeds Castle 684 Length of Days ..„, 964 Life-Boat, the 652 Life without an Aim.. Light from Flowers... Longevity Love of Life Love of Nature Luxor Obelisk Lynx, the Maccaroni Eaters Manis, the.. March. Marseilles. Massacre of the Mamelukes. Mastodon Race, the. May., Memory Mental Discipline Metaphysics of Bnsiness Mexico, City of Mind, the, Beyond the Grave.... Milage, the Mississippi and the Nile Mocking-Bird, the Mohammedan Devotions Moment of Success Motives Mountains Mourning Woman of the East... Muscular Strength Music Mysteries of Creation, the < Narwal, the National Gallery of England Nauplia Neapolitan Peasants Nelson, Monument to Newfoundland Dog, the New Zealand No Person Unimportant November Number Seven, the Oak-Bark Feelers Obelisk of Luxor. Oberhasli ■ Ocelot, the October Old BiUop House Oporto, Portugal Orange-Tree, the Origin of American Aborigines... Ottor, the Palisades, the , Pampas, the Paris at the Present Day Parks of England Pathway of Science Pericles Peravians, the Persistency of Family Features., Perspiratory Tubes of the Skin. , Petrified Cascade, &o Philosophy of Mystery Phosphorus Piasan Rook Plato Pleasure after Pain Polar Bear, the .PAOi 1004 634 641 713 880 983 , 938 693 692 649 .1016 604 825 739 799 844 988 983 , 633 791 650 634 878 638 601 986 948 696 .693, 727 789 783 1020 629 693 830 926 747 1031 993 842 898 983 631 923 926 613 769 558 610 774 539 851 686 906 645 960 822 679 663 996 946 581 665 802 915 873 FAail004 634 B41 7ia , 880 983 938 693 B92 649 1016 IS 604 825 739 799 , 844 988 , 983 ve 633 791 650 634 878 , 638 601 , 986 Sast 948 , 696 693, 727 789 783 id 1020 629 693 830 926 747 „ 1031 993 842 898 983 531 923 925 613 769 558 nes 610 774 639 861 686 906 646 960 822 xires 679 Skin 663 996 946 581 665 , 802 916 873 ^'ttBELLISHMENTS. 1 Pompeii and H«roalu>eiim rxoi 620 Pope's Tree 682 Porpoise, the v 526 Power of Kindness 867 Power of tbe Voice 646 Progress of African Discovery 816 Prospects of tlie United States 755 Protection from Lightning 764 Presence of Mind 690 Pride, Offensive and Defensive 564 Pulse, the 699 Rational Keligion 983 Real Oreatness 953 Recreations in Np.tural History 617 Regalia of the British Crown 646 Reign of Terror 703 Reindeer, the 891 Reproduction of Plants 667 Resuscitation 662 Retrospection 682 Rotterdam 933 Rules aboatthe Weather 725 Sabbath Thoughts 763 Salt-Minesof Cardona. 697 Science of the Scriptures 1008 Scraps of Curious Information 1023 Scriptural Allusions to Dew 972 Sebastian Cabot 661 Servitude 621 September 898 Shaddock-Tree, the 581 Shaking Hands 603 Sorrow for the Dead 844 Spectacles faob 1033 Spider, Carious Fac^s about 894 Springer Antelope 688 Squirrels, Black and Grey 544 Star Worship 534 Stray Thoughts on the Beautiful 998 Study a Child's Capacities 773 Swordflsh, the 840 Tenacity of Life 538 Texas, Description of 669 Thoughts and Things 776 Thoughts on Winter 1000 Traveling in the East 845 Truth 615 United States, Prospects of 755 Upright, Downright, and Straightforward. 516 Uses of Things 599 Utility of Birds 735 Vegetable Kingdom 908 Venice 714 Visions of Good Men 660 Walrus, the 608 Washington, Oeorge 967 Weather, Rules about 725 West, Benjamin 518 Whale and Whale-Fishery 672 White or Barn Owl 868 Weisbaden 736 Wife of Lafayette 876 Wild-Turkey, the 666 Wolsthorpe Manor-Honse 805 World, the 703 York, City of. 917 EMBELLISHMENTS The Falli of Toccoa 513 Tbe Family of Benjamin Weat 519 Harrowing Ovrls and Prairie Dog* 933 The Porpolae 527 Male and Female Bottle Tit and Neat 539 Paaaof Oberhasll 532 Camlvalat Rome 537 The Paliiadea, Hudaon River 540 Black and Gray Squirrel) 545 The Cathedral of Florence 549 Preparing to launch the Life- Boat 553 The Life-Boat in a Storm 555 gevlUe Orange Tree 561 Portrait of Benjamin Franklin 563 Wild Turkeys 5«7 Island o( Capri 5T2 Carerna Ayurra, In the Island of CnprI 575 Shaddock Tree 580 The Rock of Oibraltsr 584 Interior of the Hock ofGlbralUr 5iJ0 Bay Tree S'W Long and Short-Tailed Mania 593 Cercopsis and Young 596 Dropping Well at 'tnaresborough 600 Mohammond All, witnessing the Massacre of the Mamelukes 605 Walruses 609 View of the Old Blllop House, at Bentley, Staten Island 619 The Aye-Aye, Cluiromy^t 3Iadagiu 610 View of Fulls of the Anio, at TlToli 640 Landing of Julius Cccsur in England 625 Nupolo dl Romania 631 The Mockine-Bird 635 View of the Hntrnnce to the Cavern of Adelsberg... 641 Qrolto of the Maddalena, at Adelaberg 643' The Regalia of England, nsed at Coronations S41 Hunting the Chamois 651 View of the Observatory at Greenwich, England... 654 Portrait of Sebastian Cabot 661 Jardin Botanique, Brussels W8 The KInkaJou 666 View of the Baas-Rock 674 Harpooning the Whale In the Arctic Seas 077 Oangersofthe Whale-Fishery 877 Pope's Tree at Biofleld, Berks 683 Leeds Castle, Kent 685 Hunting the Springbok, at the Cape of Good Hope 689 The Maccaroni Sellers ofNaplea 694 The Salt-HiUs of Cardona, In Catalonia 696 Capercailiie, orCookof the Wood 709 Ptarmigan Oroaae 711 Venice ~ 715 The Rialto i 719 Gondola, with single Rower 722 The Ocelot 724 City of Alglera 7S7 Interior oi an Esquimaux House, at Frederibshaab, Greenland 734 Public Rooms at Wiesbaden 737 The American Bison 741 Canoe and Natives, off Cape Wargari, New Zea- land .:...... 748 Cataract at FiBSToUum, Iceland 752 Portraitof A.cxander the Great 757 Birds of Paradise— 1. Tbe Emerald ; 2. The Sifllef, 3. The Incomparable; 4. ITie Cloudy; 5. The Superb 761 South Front of Castle Howard, Yorkshire, England 767 Oporto, Portugal 771 The Otter 775 Afloum Kara His*ar,crtbe Black Castle of Opium 779 J Spearing the Norwnl p^gg 794 City and Harbor or Oeooe 788 Mirage In the Plsina of Mezteo 792 Bajr of Olonguriff, In Ireland na Plato (ft'oin an antlqaeboit) 803 Portrait of .Sir Isaac Newton ". 8uS Sir liaac Newton'i Birthplace "."„'." goT The Neapoliuu ImproTTliatore 810 Janctlon of ihe Rirera Tcbadda and Qnorra 817 Interior ofibe Temple of the Son, at Cuioo 8S3 Cretan or WallachUn Sheep 837 Monument to Nolion, Yarmouth .'.'"*.'.'.!!! 831 Oleero (from an antique Bait) " gas The Swordnah 841 Orleatal Women on Oameli ".',.,'."!!!! 845 AnEncampment of Pllgrlmj , 846 Ancient City of Antloch '.','.".'.'.','. 848 March of a Caravan ."!!,'.'."! 850 Icelanders arrlTlng rrom the Interior at the Fair'iit Reyklarlk 055 ■White or Bum Owl """" ^ View on the Lago MaMlore, (h>m the Inn BaTeno 869 Church of St. Martin, Cologne 8«7 Polar Bears and Seals , " gj4 An Oratory or Place of Prayer 87B Portrait of Oliver Cromwell .■.■■.;|;;; 885 Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament " " 889 Milking the Reindeer ' 893 piaaners of the Pontine Harshaa... ,"".'"" 897 i'eeUng the Buk tnm tb* Oak. — „ „.. goo St. James's Park, London rioi 907 Hyde Park— Bntrance from Piccadilly too Gathering OIlTes ;.. ... ml View of tlie City of York ,■.■.■■■".; 918 View of the West Front of York MIngter 920 Interior ■>f the Choir of York Minster , gn Newfor .land Dog 937 View idam's rtak ".;;;. ggo Kotterdam— ehowlng the Church of St. Lawrence »34 Lynxes _ 43^ Herd of 6nns "," 945 Mourning Women of the East ."..'."."... 94t Death ofOeneral Wolfe 95s Bust of Pericles ' Jn Portral of WUlUm Pitt— Lord Chatham '. «A Attaektofa Boa Constrictor on a Sleeping Lascar 970 Olasgo w, with Stockwell Bridge from the South Cask 975 New Broomlelaw Bridge, Glasgow '.'....'.. 977 Glasgow Exchange 979 Obelisk of Luxor, Place Louis XVI., Paris 985 ne Ummergeyer, or Bearded Vulture 999 Ine PetrUled Cueade of Pambouk Kalosl 997 TheChetah,or Hunting Leopard 1007 Bordeaux, and Bridge overtne Garonne „ 10I8 Port of Marselllet 1017 View of the National Oaltery In London losi Sun Dials (Six Ulostratlons) 1085, 1088 Clepsydrw ;.io87 Me«huUa «f a eommsn WatGh...„...„ -,.,..1089 ( .....rAoc 907 eadilljr WB »M 918 rk Minster , liiuter gn 987 9J0 h of St. Lswrence 934 43t 9«t 94t as* 991 :%8tbam 959 a Sleeping Lucar 070 [6 from the South 975 >w 977 vi.,p«rii ;; 98$ l^ulture 999 uk Kalotl.... 997 1007 iaroDDS ,. 1019 1017 jondoD lOSl loss, 1089 1097 INTRODUCTION. Thfm are few enjoyments more rational, more congenial to an unvitiated taste or mnn subservient to the moral faculties of human intelligenoe, tha^tC praeSe of iudiS reading By It we may sit by our fire«IJe, and i.oVj converse with tC'Sarch^s.^^a^^^^^^ sentiments of the fathers ot science, philosophy, and religion; for Mie page of history holds a secret but powerful language, full of meaning, full of knowledge and wise precentl Tr- devdJ n"f a b 'i" ^'T'' "^ r-""^ "' '^' deformities of vL. While L &Zl devoid of a taste for reading, wanders on amid the glowing beauties of the mental creation ;i;^Sp^"r'''*'VP'''Pu""u"^ r'y ^y'^^ pronl„sities%f his animal nature? IrSbg m,!fSn r^!;t'''"^"^''''^^'''"*'''»PP''«'='''*«« '^^ «^««t perfumes exhaled by thf whni hl^t'"'^^^^ ""*{! ''[ '■""^"1? """^ 'e'lection. taught by the wisdom of that Creator TroZn W^M- '■°"^'' i^"- •»«'''""' «f W" intellectual cultivation, see. in everything l^^fJt^' *""ething to admire, something to charm him. and something to adore. hI beiut es Z,i?h'Kl . h^' "'r* '^' Pl'^'^'y "/ ^'' "*'«'^"'=e. innumerable flowers, whSe ^n fr^™?^ • '^'^e/nacle, and whose perfume will ascend as grateful incense to Heav- ™«n «T .t' ™"^"k °[ ''}\?"r- ^*»"^ '^^ ^'ews. meditations, tnd hopes of the unread man are circnmscnbed within the narrow limits of his own existence, and he looks back, in the volume of the past, no farther than the few brief chapters that have been recorded since Ills mtancy, and in the future his vision terminates at that point where the soul puts off' its Z^pTr?''"''^''''"''*'^''^^''*^'''''^^*^"'^ '*"' knowl'edge which books and concomi! tant meditation impart, views his own life as merely a faint speck within the urea of his ^h»l ./r°"' ""^ "P°" ""^ "^"'^ °[ imagination he travels back to the matin of creation, wheh " the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for jov." He sits iKwn the apex of a great eminence, whence he beholds a panoramic view of the world, from nh!n, '".f °"V- '\ f '■'^'" "^ ¥'" ^ *« P'e^e"' '"<""«"»• In the political horizon, h" ^nd «t™Xf/ ""*'u power and petty sovereignties disappear at the approach of abso ute and extended monarchy, and the whole earth governed by four great rulers. Again he sees n»f «,"°{!f' i" ' yeakened by luxury and grown unwieldy by conquest, falling by their own weight, and out of their rums smaller monarchies appearing. These, in their turn, fire seen to give way to a mightier, a more liberal and enlightened, and. we trust, a more endu- nng pnnciple in political government— that of the republic ! Thus he sees power after power alternately destroying and destroyed, and watches, with intense interest, the progress 01 events, which, operating upon each other in accordance with a great design, have produ- cea the eminently-promising political, social, and religious condition of the worid at this eventful penod of its history. Thus may the student also watch the successive re volutions in the great empire of mmd ; and while he reads the history of men and nations, he may treasure up lessons of wisdom, upon which his country may make large draughts in the hour This country is pre-eminently distinguished for the facilities afTorded for the tlifTusion of know edge among all classes of the people. In addition to the admirable system of free schools which universally prevails, and the instruction in the higher seminaries of learning to be everywhere had at a mere nominal cost, there are more books, reviews, magazines and newspapers, published here, than, it might almost he said, in the whole world besides! 1 here being no onerous duties imposed upon them, no laws restricting or limiting their circu- lation, and they being consequently furnished at comparatively low prices, there is scarcely «*" KJ 12 INTRODUCTION. a family in the land, however humble its circumstances, but may have its library, opon which Its members can draw for instruction or recreation during tneir leisure hours. The benefits resulting from this are seen in the superior intelligence of people in the common walks of life here, in comparison with the humbler classes in other lands. But, however flattering to the national pride this may be, we are compelled in truth to admit, these inestimable privileges, in both publishing and reading, are, t<) by for too great an extent, lamentably abused. Any person who takes a comprehensive view of the quan- tities of worse than worthless matter, under the name of " light literature," daily thrown be- fore the public, and which forms the intellectual foml of so great a proi)ortion of the com- munity at the present day, will inevitably arrive at this conclusion. The prolific press so overflows with romances, .lovels, and magazines and newspapers, filled with visionary scenes, that the public taste in reading has been seriously vitiated. The imagination, ever susceptible to high-wrought pictures of romantic adventure, when improperly indulged, " grows by what it feeds on," till it outstrips every other mental power. To this may be at- tributed, in a great degree, the credulity too often exhibited, and the tendency to be drawn into impracticable schemes and romantic speculations. An instance may perhaps be found in the eagerness with which, at the present time, thousands, excited by the glowing descrip- tions and extravagant stories almost daily published, of immense treasures to be found in the new El Dorado of the Pacific, are leaving friends, family, all the comforts and endear- ments of home — many relinquishing a safe and profitable business — and embarking on a long and perilous voyage, bound for the " gold regions," with hopes buoyant, but which we fear will result, with very many — not in disappointment merely (the moral taught might compensate for that)— but in the loss of health and perhaps of life itself. Facts, the naked realities of life, are too tame to arrest the attention. They must be clothed or distorted in fiction, before they will possess sufficient interest for perusal. Many a magazine and news- paper, which has dealt principally with matters of science and fact, has failed of adequate support ; while others, which are filled with fictitious and unnatural tales, romantic inci- dents, and sickly poetry, riot in abundance. To lend the aid of our humble endeavors in turning this current of taste in reading, thus tending to the broad waste of mental licentiousness, into a healthier channel, has been our controlling motive in putting forth this volume, as it has been of the entire series of publi- cations which have from time to time been issued by us. In the preparation of this work, everything which might have an improper tendency has been carefully excluded. Nor has the desim been a negative one merely ; care has also been taken that every article which found admission to its pages should possess a positive value — should impart some useful in- formation, or " point a moral." The illustrations have been selected with the same design. Many of them are from original sketches, procured with considerable trouble and expense. To avoid prolixity, and to give as great a variety as possible, the articles have generally been of as limited length as was compatible with justice to the subjects upon which they treated. There were a few exceptions, however, where the importance of the matters treat- ed, warranted and required more scope. Among these we would instance, " Ciiristofher CotuMBUS, AND THE DiscovERT OF AMERICA." When itis taken into consideration, that, without the omission of a single important fact, we have here, condensed into twenty-six pages, the substance of several octavo volumes, by one of the most eminent writers of the present day— a scholar of whom our country may justly be proud— we are confident that It will not be deemed as absorbing too great a space. We feel assured, also, that no one can rise from the perusal of this description of the labors and trials of Columbus without a feel- ing—not simply of admiration of the hardy adventurer, who, with desperate resolution, launched forth on the Atlantic, hoping against hope, to discover he knew not whot— but, of reverence for the philosophic truth-seeker, who, from the accumulated testimony of ages, in the proud independence of conscious genius, moulded a most refined yet demonstrable theor' of geographical facts ;— and whose mind, when he set sail from Europe, was so deeply impressed with the weight of historical evidence, that he proceeded with confidence and certainty on the voyage which resulted in the discovery of a New World. There are many other subjects treated on, which will be found of more than ordinary interest, but our limits will not permit a reference to them in detail. Jt is hoped that this volume may be found in a measure worthy of that approval by che public which has been so f/enerously accorded to our previous works. And should its publication tend, even in a slight degree, to encourage a more judicious and salutary taste in reading, we shall feel that we have not labored in vain. ve its library, opon leisure hours. The )I)le in the common m polled in truth to '•, f>) by fnr too p-eat ! view of the qnan- e," daily thrown be- >j)ortion of the com- rhe prolific press so lied with visionary he imagination, ever nproperly indulged, To this niuy be at- 'ndency to be drawn perhaps be found in be glowing descrip- ires to be found in omforta and endear- nd embarking on a lyant, but which we moral taught might . Facts, the naked >thed or distorted in magazine and news- i failed of adequate :ale8, romantic inci- iste in reading, thus mnel, has been our itire series of publi- ration of this work, Jxcluded. Nor has every article which part some useful in- ith the same design, rouble and expense, cles have generally 8 upon which they of the matters treat- ce, "Christopher » consideration, that, sed into twenty-six inent writers of the 'e are confident that dso, that no one can ibus without a feel- esperate resolution, V not what — but, of istiraony of ages, in lemonstrable theorv jpe, was so deeply 'ith confidence and d, more than ordinary t is hoped that this lie which has been ation tend, even in iding, we shall feel 17< AMERICAN MISCELLANY. OUR COUNTRY. The pilgnm fathers were conducted to these shores by an Almighty Hand. They might have passed to other lands, far from the aggressors, and been safe. There were coun- tries nearer home that would have gladly wel- corned them to their shelters. But a mts- TERIODS INFLUKNCE RESTED UPON THEIR minds; and, althodoh it was a hazard- ous ENTERPRISE, TEEMING WITH DANGER, THET RALLIED THEIR BROKEN SPIRITS. BRAVED THE WINDS OP HEAVEN, THE STORMS OF THE ANGRY DEEP, AND, IN HOPE AOMNST HOPE, m THE VERT DEPTH OF WINTER SPRANG OPON THE RUGGED ROCK OF PlTJI- OUTH, BEARING WITH THEM THE SEEDS OF A HOLT RELIGION AND A VAST EMPIRE. Iheir ongm and national character form a striking circumstance in the history of the country. They were of no plebeian race, neither were they all of high patrician birth but generally selected from that class, which in jfc-ngland especially, constitutes the very best and most enterprising of her citizens. ^They were inflexible, brave, and true. Indepen- tlTv f """''' "^ f«"je»8 spirit, with an un- paralleled strength of puqiose, were charac- tenstics by which they were distinguished. Another and a far different race might have been our fathers; but God had high and im- portant purposes in view, and he therefore se- lected men ^yho possessed the power and were tuniished with the materials to lay the deep and broad foundations of a nation, destined to ^e unexampled and glorious. The nature of the constitutions and laws they framed and adopted, their moral tenden- cy, the stnctness of their religious sentiments, all give evidence of an overruling Providence. Mad the laws by which they were governed been less ngid and severe, tlieir morals more pliable, and their faith cast in a more polished mould, It is a question whether their children would have retained, for so many years, cus- toms ana manner«, which, though antiquated. and ridiculed by the refined and skeptical have contributed in a great measure to per- serve the American citizen, as yet, from Piany ot the glaring absurdities and extravagant ni tions of his trans-atlantic brethren. On the I p!}"'?' we may consider the character of the [ i^ilgnms, their conduct and views, as not only benehcial, but absolutely necessary, in a re- ligious, nioral, and political point of light, in torming the basis of a great and highly intel- ligent community. '' Their preservation from the srr>lping.knife ot the savage and from the sworl of France 18 another mark of Divine favor. No per- sonal bravery, no tower of strength, could have secured them from the accumulated dan- gers that beset them. The country was then covered with thousands of the red warriors armed and on the watch for their prey, ureed on by Frenchmen who thirsted for blc^. iiarly in their history we also mark a gracious interposition of Divine Providence, in the dis- comfiture and defeat of a powerful airoament. i!-re It had reached these shores, the Lord commissioned the elements to fight against it, and the proud fleet was scattered, dismasted, and broken by the four winds. And when the seeds of war sprang up in the breasts of the revolutionary heroes, were not the counsels of Great Bntain strangely perplexed? The voice of wisdom forso-i the senate and council-chamber, and the spirit ot her king, her nobles, and her people, cow- ered to a palpably ignorant policy. At this period, big with the destinies of mil- lions, when all that is dear and valuable to man was at stake, and the hopes of America were on the point of being blasted for ever, the IMMORTAL Washington appeared en the arena of battle. A mysterious and all- wise i-rovidence seemed to designate him as the ANGEL that was to lead the American armies to vie ory and conquest. He soon redeemed tne pledge his opening campaign gave to a deeiSy anxious and troubled people. His course was brilliant and successful. He met the veterans of a hundred hard-fought fields wearing the laurels of victory, and they were il "*^<* i!«!'»l!») 8 OUa COUNTRY. signally bpat^n ; the country rnscued from the invader's sworti, and its rif^hts and privi- leens confirmed and acknowledged by the irOice of nations and the wisdom of our fathers. The framing of the constitution, that great pillar of «i»r country's glory, is not among the least of the blessings by which these United States are di»tinguishe(l. But who can read the page that opens upoti the fiftieth anniversary of our independence, and not be struck with astonishment at the death of the two venerable patriots, Jeflcrson and Adams, who wore both, on the morning of that aus])icious day, basking in the sun- shine of a nation's smile; but, ere the sun had set, were gathered with their fathers ? — who can pass over this imperishable mark of Divine interference, and not feel the full force of our observations 7 The prosperity which has always crowned this country — more especially since her inde- pendence was established, is further proof that G(xl is with us. She has increased in territory and in population, in riches, in enter- prise, and renown. Her religious, literary, and political institutions will bear a proud comparison even with those of Great Britain, France, and Germany. From what has been said, we may fairly infer that America is destined, at no distant period, to take a more elevated and important station in controlling the destinies of the earth. If she is but true to herself, she can never retrogade. She must ever prosper, gathering strength and stability aa she advances. The Almighty seems to have determined in her favor. As long as the religion of Jesus is permitted to lie deeply-rooted in her institu- tions, she can not fall. The Rock of Ages is as yet her abiding-place. She is supported by pillars of strength and beauty, that suffer no decay, and that bid defiance to the hand of the oppressor, and the tooth of time. Stupendous are the purposes, to accomplish which, she is to be the honored instrument. In the youth and vigor of her days, untram- melled and unconfined, bearing in her bosom the elements that have already given omens of great ,iror,iise, what may she not perform ! Her voice is swelling to a louder note in other lands, and wherever the star-gemmed banner sweeps the free air of heaven, there will her influence be felt, and the fame of her doings create a flame and arouse a spirit which rivers can not quench, nor armed multitudes subdue. The beacon of freedom to both hemispheres, its light will soon blaze on every island, sea, and mountain, on the globe, until myriads, guided by its mellow radiance, shall proclaim universal emancipation from chains and slavery, and man assume his legitimate place in the great scale of being. V yet more glorious contemplation ;b afliirded by this animating subject. For achievements of moral sublimity, never em- ulated nor surpassed sr'.iie the commence- ment of time, America statids eminently con- spicuous. Emanations that bear the royal signature of Heaven, cluster around us on every hand. Movements of a high and lofty import, which cast far into the shade all that has ever taken place on the earth since the hour of man's redemption, seem to be shaking the universe, and strongly intimate the near approach of wonderful events. Christians in fonner times waged war on the borders of the enemy's dominions only : their battles were but skirmishes. But their sons have resolved to penetrate the thickest ranks, and to attack the strongest fortresses; and they aim at nothing short of the complete overthrow and dovrnfall of the empire of sin. The resources of this country are vast, her spirit bold and daring, not easily subdued, and capable of great and brilliant enterprise. It is but natural then for us to place her in the front rank of the Sacramental Host — her stars pouring light on the millennial morning, while her spirit-waking trumpet shall break upou the ears of slumbering millions. While we contemplate this magnificent scene, and behold the glorious prospect which the torch of inspiration reveals to our won- dering eyes, let us fear and tremble, lest we interrupt the high purposes of the Almighty, and, by our rebellion and obstmacy, turn away the streams of his munificence. We may contribute to the downfall of these high and towering hopes, by becoming forgetful of liis mercy, and uetdng at naught his counsel. Are there not already monitory voices iu the land ? — Do they not appeal to our hearts in the touching and emphatic language of na- ture, and of truth ? Wliat says the history of the world, in re- gard to the evil to which we here allude? The national debt of England is at present about three thousand millions of dollars — a debt produced by war ; the interest of that debt,' and the parts of it already liquidated, amount to about ten times as much more. And what has England obtained for all this mighty outlay of capital 7 Where shall we look for the benefit which she has derived from this incalculable expense ? Ask the depths of the ocean, and the sunken fleets of the Nile and Trafalgar will answer. She has gained the fame of making her I'on roar on the vanquished Armada ; of " letting slip her dogs of war" upon the palmy shores of Hin- dostan; of giving Wellington immortality upon the plains of Waterloo : and is this all ? No! she has erected monuments in West- minster Abbey to the greatest butchers of our J gfflmiwi If) cniitctnplatlon 'b mting subjoct. For »ublhiiity, never om- ■..<:e tlie coinmence- tniids emiiH-ntly cnn- Ihot bear thn rnyol luster arouiul ns on 8 of a high and lofty ito the shade all that the earth since the 1, seem to be shaking ly intimate the near irents. Christians in m the borders of the : their battles were ir sons have resolved ranks, and to attack ; and they aim at iplete overthrow and 1 sin. country are vast, her t: easily subdned, and lliant enter])rise. It I to place her in the mtal Host — her stars nnial morning, while et shall break npou lillions. to this magnificent rions prospect which reveals to our won- nd tremble, lest we es of the Almighty, obstinacy, turn away ificence. We may II of these high and ning forgetful of his laught his conusel. )nitory voices in the eal to our hearts in itic language of na- of the world, in re- ch we here allude? ngland is at present lillions of dollars'^a the interest of that t already liquidated, nes as much more, obtained for all this 1 Where shall we ich she has derived sxpense ? Ask the the sunken fleets of ill answer. She has Lin" her I'on roar on of " letting slip her almy shores of Hin- llington immortality rloo : and is this all ? onuments in West- latest butchers of our OUB COUNTRY. ^ * race that ever lived ; it has written poverty ujHni the foreheads of the majority of her la- borers ; it has crushed the many with burdens and tnxes to honor the destroyers of our race with a name — a name which, if society un- der8t truth, and from her undying lamp sheds a streani of on- ceasing light along our pathway. The fabrics of an- cient greatnese, built by injustice and consecrated to ambition, arc now flitting shadows before ns, s'arting op from behind the broken pillars and falling colurnna (hat were reared to perpetuate the geoiai by which tbey were wrought. door. He is forcing an entrance into our most sacred places. The temples of religion and the scats of learning are tainted with the mon- ster's foul breath, and the promise and strength of our young men are bowing down under the weight of his relentless and withering arm. Beneath his iron heel the loveliest flowers of earth are crushed, and the beautiful buddings of virtue for ever blasted. There is no time to be lost. And while each for himself mokes secure the foundation of his ovm hopes, let our prayers ascend for our country, that amid all tlio flashings of its brightness, it may be irradiated by the light of religion, blessed by the prayers of its citizens, worshipped with the gratitude of every patriot heart ; and then the return of each year .shall be hallowed by increasing associations of moral sublimity, till every beam shall have met in one common focus, even the salvation and happiness of ev- ery individual who forms a part and lives within the boundaries of the great repub'-: of the western world. One of the noblest moral pictures of an- tiquity is that of Curtius leaping into the gulf thot had yawned in the Roman Forum —and the patriot poet could not have found, in the rainbow regions of fancy, a more glori- ous picture than that drawn by Robert Treat Paine, which represents Washington stand- ing at the portals of our national temple, eatching, on the point of his sword, the light- nings of faction, and guiding them harmlessly to the deep. But higher honors await the American patriot who walks around the bul- warks of our empire, lifts the voice of warn- ing ot every suspicious appearance, and moulds its highest towers to the transcendent model of republican beauty and Christian simplicity. Bombastic, inflated forms of speech, although used to surfeiting on the subject of our na- tional independence, do not belong to it any more than gaudy coverings and silken frippery belong to the perfect forms of ancient statua- ry. The sublimity of circumstance and of fact is enough to chain the tongue to its most chastened simplicity, while the ordor of the grateful distended heart bums in the eyes, and lends eloquence to language. We have alluded to infidelity, as a serpent foe in the midst of us — ^but althijugh we warn, we do not fear. This serpent sholl trail the dust beneath the chariot wheels of pure re- publicanism — and a little further onward, chained to the millenial car, the monster's blood and the torn fragments of nis sinuous body shall be scattered in the whirlwind revo- lutions of angry wheels. There is a natural land where there is no serpent. There shall be an entire world where no moral serpent's hisa shall startle innocence, or interrupt the singing of the turtle-dove. 't WHi itranco into our most ple« of religion and linted with tne tnon- promise ami strength tfin^ down under the and withering arm. loveliest flowers of B beautiful buddings I. There in no time ch for himself makes his own hopes, let r country, that amid ightness, it may be religion, blessed by IS, worshipped with riot heart ; and then hall be hallowed by moral sublimity, till net in one common and happiness of ev- ts a part and lives the great repub'": irnl pictures of an- la leaping into the the Roman Forum uld not have found, fancy, a more glori- (vn by Robert Treat Washington Rtand- ur national temple, bis sword, the light- ing them harmlessly sr honors await the ttlks around the bul- } the voice of wam- )earance, and moulds transcendent model Christian simplicity. of speech, although ! subject of our na- not belong to it any 9 and silken frippery M of ancient statua- ircumstance and of le tongue to its most ile the ardor of the urns in the eyos, and ige. fidelity, as a serpent It although we warn, rpent shall trail the wheels of pure re- le further onward, car, the monster's nents of nis sinuous the whirlwind revo- There is a natural srpent. There shall e no moral serpent's ice, or interrupt the NEW-YBXa'S DAY. 11 Oo read the history of the pant, on pages written wiiii bliK)d ! Count, if you can, the sluugiitercd victims that have found their hint resting-place on ihe gory battle-plains which ore fill thiiikly interspersed tl^roughout our rar.tli, making it, us it wire, one vast Potter's fieliL Watch those drops of anguish and sorrow, that have gushed from ati'cctionate hearts, broken by the fierce carnage of war, iind see them, as a mighty river, swelling to an (Wean of grief sulHcicnt to drown all the warring hostii of every age. Htmrken to the wail of widows anil orjilmns, deep-toned and terrible enough even to startle the myriads of hell, and inuke them cower before tne stonn of anguish ! But that stonn Hhall pass away ; and mountains that have interposed to make enemies of nations, shall be levelled before the advancing triumphs of him who came heralded as the " Prince of Peace." The instrument of death, under the skill of the ingenious mechanic, shall turn the sod and prepare it for the seed, which shall i)resent her " full com in the ear" to the hand of man. Hapjnr ! glf)rious epoch in the world's history ! The Lord hasten its consummation ! Then, Christian patriot, is your triumph ! The bat- winged miuiona of darkness sholl retreat be- fore this morning of moral independence, and one wide generous glow of radiance diflusc itself above, around the lovely and loung dis- ciples of the ever-blessed Jesus. Then shall earth be like heaven. Then rejoicings shall break out in every desert und barren land, while the ancient fertility hastens back to earth, as when Adam first sung his morning hymn in Eden. Then the sons of God will shout for joy, as in the morning of the young creation. Then a more heavenly song than the hoarse trumpets breathe, or the dec))- mouthed cannon utter, shall roll its harmonics through the vocal creation, swelling its solemn sweetness to every ear — " Peace on earth, A^D GOOD WILL TO HAN." " O KeoM Borpassing fable, and yet trae i Scenes uf accomplished bliu ! which who caa see, Tboagh bat in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshel with foretaste of the Joy 1 One gong employs all nations ; and all cry, ■ Worthy the Lamb, for be was slain for as !' The dwellers in the vales anJ on the rocka Bhout to each other, and the moantain tops From distant moontains catch ihe flying joy ; Till nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturoas hosannah roand. See Salem built, the labor of a Qod ! Bright a* a sun the sacred city shines ; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy. And endless her increase." NEW-YEAR'S DAY. "A HAPPT NKW TF^n!" has been the repetition of a thou^fatu! merry voiees this morning. This is a dny on which old feuds fhould be broken down, warm friendships be strengthened, and new acquaintances formed. New York, of all the stat':>s, keeps new- year's day with the greatest s])irit. It is one of the bequeathments of our Dutch forefa- thers. While in N«w Knglnnd the austerity of the puriton breathed the denunciation of the iconoclast on all festivols, the homely set- tler of New Amsterdam encouraged them. The savants of the eastienocted lows to make the people sober, and to render illegal all sup- port of such festivities. When bleak and cheerless winter set in on the little inland of Manhattan, the severity of the season was utterly disnnnrd by the social (pialities of its plain g(K)d-natured inhabitants. There was a regular interchange of visits among the neigh- bors, and all parties laid in a large supply of cookies, os was called their koek, or cake, on which to regale themselves. Probably from this circumstance has come down to us the present ogreeable custom of the gentle- men making their calls on the ladies of the household. The first day of the year has in it something peculiar, and which at once rec- ommends it to the observance of every heart : the customary division of time of the world's age, of the different phases of history, and what endears it more j)articularly, of the life of man. The birthday remembrance is but an individual consideration, but on this day the nations, as with n simultaneous thought, add one to the years of their being, while old mother Earth dots another year of her ex- istence on the calendar of time. This is a day of gifts, a day for the expression of af- fection by little mementoes, which become the household representatives of love and kind regard. Man in many traits is the same now that he was some thousands of yeors ago. We now give new-year's presents — so did the an- cient Romans. On the first of January, long before the advent of the Messiah, the Etemiu City was kept in a yearly hum with the pas- sing feet of^ the bearers of the strenee, or presents : the patron received them from his client, the citizen gave them to the magistrate, and friends gave them t« each other. The visiter brought his xenium, or guest-gift, and received his strenx, or return-gift. These were new-year's presents. The gifts con- sisted chiefly of rare coins, gilt dates, plumbs dried and gilt, figs, and other small household matters, ornamented with the head of Janus, to which god the festivities of the day were dedicated. Persons visiting had their com- pliments, which have come down to us. An- 1 I ^ 12 NEW YEAU8 DAY. Hum fitir ''"ih' MictnqiU llhi, said the •ncii'iii I : frii'tni. A prunpinms 0nil hiir, _ /,-, you ! grcM #tr'** Ixi- It. I' ( ' iilnii tUe Wimi oroipiCTOus, {^^T n<\' «4 In •44.^ rtW'tT 'W MPXV-yc if's (llliy, tlllgUri'd well fe» the wliolc yirir. Thlili'n knifn, from Kontie ajjod tri-o iu theii foi. if. dfilicntrd to tin ii tikIs, This, uHlliimuch ecrnn'iriy, wax drii-d ii, i braiirhi'K, ,, fl di«tril)Htcd (tii new-year's day iit ^t'ls ti» til,/ ji)f. '^«rSiiA'>nanco9tor», in comrnun Willi ijie 'i lin nations or trilirs, made mrrry on thw d y, obscrvinn it with ^^ifti mid miUKUul tc^iivity. Indf'ed, it wn« Qi>».ason of ^rcat inijHirtmico witii lliem, in froi/i it they numlnircd their nj;i! ; nnd t\w hoiiry-hcndcd liHiii of sinciity wiia cnllcd the irinii of sev- enty ini'rry-iimkiiitjs, Kni;land dors not ccl- ehratc the day with mncli festivity, tlie onlv observance lieinu; that l)e2innini» on tho last night of the old year ; the hells of the various churclies rin!» out their merry |)eals initil pa-it midnight — ns is said, they rinj; tho old year out mid tho new year in. fliit the greatest rdat is given to this festival in France, where all other nations arc far oufstripited in tlie lavish nature of the gifts. The expenditures for sweetmeats, dkc, in Paris, cxer'cd $100,000, while the sales of jewelry and fancy articles for Konu' five days about this time, eipial one fodrlh the sales of the whole year. A. Paris- ian of 10,000 francs a year, will spend one fifteenth of it in new-year's presents. In the visits of the day, the French have an ntiipiette which is quite becoming. The nearest rela- tions ore first visited, and so on, until they have all been called on ; then tlie friends are visited. This is all done in the morning. A dinner is given, and the evening winds uj) with social amusements. Still, although we do not make such lavish expenditures, we are not a whit behind any people in the social enjoyment of the ♦ime. The kind congratu- lations between the sexes, make it a happy day, and a fitting dehut of the coming year. Enjoy it, then. Be social, forgiving, nnd kind-h.'i.r*ed, nnd in the midst of this glad festivu_ let gratituile have a place in every heart. Remember those who are in ndversi- i ty, and see that the poor have the means of i uniting in thi; f(!slival. TemiJerancc! is a vir- I tue, which confers on her faithful votaries, on festis'alj like to-day, blessings in rich profu- j 8i(ni ; while Hacchus overwhelms his follow- 1 ers in drunkenness, disgrace, j)ain, despair, j and sorrow. \ We ca'i not better close our remarks on i the new yi ■• r 'nan by giving the ruminations of Washk -on Ihvino from his "elbow chair :" — " In this en v • ' i tivit", when tho gate of time swinut* ofi^n tm it* hingi-n, nnd an h< n- e»t, rosy-faced, ni'W year rorius waddling in, like u jolly, fat-»ide(f alderinuM, loaded with gy>f)d wishes, good hui- ir, and minced jties j ' iiiyous era, it lias been the I'usiom, from 'lemorial, in this ancient and n spect- ui' • i . (or periodical writers, from n'verend, grave, uud nnimt essayists, like ourselves! clown to tlu! hiiiiible but iiidiiBtrioiis editors ui mHga/.ine», reviews, and iiewsiiapers, to ten- r their subscribers the cumpliments of tho - -'>ii ; and when they have slily tliawen\n. { to behold the frigid influence of modem style cheating us of this jubilee of Ike hrart, nnd converting it, as it does evf.iy !ii:i( ,' ■ i>f ' jcial iiitT-i'rourse, into an idle and umjaaii ig .ere- mony. 'Tis the annual f' /•'••} of Tct.i hu- mor; — it comes in the de.. . .. . ;nter, when nature is without a charm, when our jdeasuros are contracted to the fireside, and when every- thing that unlocks tho icy fetters of the heart, and sets the genial current flowing, shoidd be cherished, as a stray lamb, found in the wil- derness, or a flower blooming among thorns and briers." \ m. KIMMMatMMB h« Wniypx, nml nii h( n- iir comiM wuililliii!; in, lUlcriiiiiii, liiiidt'il with iiir, anil itiiiu-i'il piog ; hicri tin; ciiMttiiii, from it iiiirii'iit oiiil n M|ii'rt- .vritrrs, from rcvcri'ml, iyi"*l''i like iiiirsrlvot! ' indiiKtriims cilitorH ot il rii'WH[m|iriH, to tcti- 10 (•(im|)liiii''iilt lit' tlio •y Iiiivf! wliiy llmwi'd :1(! (if tli(> NUiiNliiiio of y drlinitcly ilumiiii;} if .siili!(cri]itioii-inoii('y. irriers of iii'WMimpers, i;' to ihu iiiiiiriit uiiJ rati, do ri'Kuliirly, at tllr vciir, milutc tlu-ir (i of (;xcill('lit iidvicc, ;ood poftry, for which iri'd pntroiis aro well exactly twenty-live riiy-l)(!ftnl cu.stom of Iiortion of tliis good- r till' piir|»isr)s of cor- it, luid ^(lod clu'f'r, is relics liaiidcd dowa to ?stors. In udditlon to w-ycnr festivity there y grateful to a good- every face dri'sspi] in ft-repeated Haliitations from the heart to the MKir, for oiieo enjoying id forgetting the cares 1 them, in the jovial ; the young cliildren, day clothes, and freed 10 cares of the school, itreets on errands of ) very negroes, those gorgeou'jly arrayed in 1 injunts, at corners, ecth, and making the Its of laughter, loud the icy cheek of old thing so pleasing in all mill give me real pain '. lence of modem style ' ike of the hrart, and i evf y null ,';• iif - jcial i and rnui' ni i j,; .;ere- 1 f' ■• ■■] lit "c I hu- dec.>, I .■ ,. :nfer, when m, when our jileasures ■side, and when every- 'V fetters of the heart, 'ut flowing, should be mb, found in the wil- joming among thorns 14 MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. isi'f t MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. The mutual relationship and dependence of those who constitute the body politic, and who, when regarded in this point of view, may be resolved into the two general classes of governors and governed, is easily demon- strable by such a plwn and simple process of reasoning as that which follows. The body of man, from its liability to be affected by hunger and cold, stands m need of food and raiment. With these, the Indian or the sav- age, who is content to eat the flesh, and wear the skins of the animals he shoots or spears in the thicket or forest, can supply himself. But the inhabitants of civilized countries, like our own, commonly obtain their food and clothing by purchase. There is no purchasing either the necessaries or the comforts of life without money : and unless this be possessed, as in the case of those who are usually denominated rich, by right of inheritance, it must be ac- quired, as in the case of the poor, by indi- vidual or relative exertion. Both rich and poor, however, need protection, more than themselves can furnish, from the attacks of ruthless violence : the rich, that they may keep possession of what they have inherited, or honestly accumulated ; and the poor, that their persons may be unmolested while they are engaged in earning a subsistence for them- selves and their families. This protection of property and person, from the robber or plun- derer, and the mischievously-disposed, is af- fordjd to rich and poor alike, by the laws of their country, which, for this purpose, impose restraints, and threaten penalties. But tk? laws of a country, in order to become efficient as the means of^ yielding protection must be duly administered and enforced. The admin- istration of law devolves upon the executive government. And in return for the protection afforded both to rich and poor by a due ad- ministration of the laws, such a government is justly entitled to support from those under its superintendence. As the circumstances of the case thus es- tablish a mutual relationship between the gov- erned and their governors, so likewise do they render them dependent upon each other ; and as the governed can not say to their govern- ors, " We have no need of your protection ;" so neither con rulers say to those under their jurisdiction, " We have no need of your at- tachment and support." And since a similar relationship exists among the members of the social body, there is also a similar state of dependence observa- ble. The mechanic and the laborer are de- pendent upon their employers for the means of earning a li/elihood ; and their employers aie dependent upon the mechanic and the la- borer for the manufacture of their goods, and the cultivation of their lands. The manufac- turer is dependent ujx)n the merchant for the vending of his wares; and the merchant is dependent upon the manufacturer for a proper quantity of merchandise. The agriculturist is dependent upon the public at large for the consumption of his grain ; and the consuming public are dependent upon the agriculturist for a plentiful supply of produce. The poor are dependent upon the rich for the distribu- tion of their wealth, that they may have whf-rewith to purchase food and clothing ; and the rich are dependent upon the poor for the comforts and conveniences they derive from the skill of artisans and servants. Trades- men and workpeople, and, indeed, all ranks in society, the higher as well as the lower, are dependent upon those belonging to the learned and scientific professions for the valuable and beneficial exercise of their varied talents ; and the members of these professions are de- pendent I'.pon those who employ them, for the emolument by which they are enabled to support themselves, and maintain theii re- Nor is this social dependence merely recip- rocal. It extends throughout the whole com- munity ; so that those of one class can not say to any of the other classes around them, " We have no need of you." The correct- ness of this statement may be shown by the familiar illustration which the materials and making of a pair of shoes will furnish. Sup- posing the leather to be a home production, not imported from abroad, it is stripped in the form of skin from the carcase of an animal, bred by a farmer or grazier, and slaughtered by a butcher ; and this skin is prepared by the tanner, and dressed by the currier, pre- vious to its being cut, shaped, and put togeth- er, by the shoemaker and his assistants. In putting the different parts of a shoe together, waxed thread is used ; the wax being a com- position of substances usually imported ; and the thread spun by a twine-spinner of hemp which he obtains from the flax-dresser, who either imports the article, or purchases it f^f the grower. And before a single nail cxa be driven into the heel of a shoe, the miner must be at work in getting iron ore ; the smelter in separating the metal from the dross with his furnace ; the forger in beating out the pig-iron into bars or rods; and the iiailsmith m re- ducing the iron rods to the size and length re- quired. But the nailsmith, the forger, the smelter, and the nriner ; the twine-spinner and flax-dresser, the shoemaker, the currier, and the tanner — all use a variety of tools in their respective operations, which tools are made by other artificers. A nd the ^commodities im- ported from abroad are brought across the sea facture of their goods, and leir lands. The manufac- uj)on tho merchant for the res; and the merchant is I manufacturer for a proper idise. The agriculturist is e public at large for the grain ; and the consuming Bnt upon the agriculturist )ly of produce. The poor 1 the rich for the distribn- th, that they may have lase food and clothing ; and lent upon the poor for the cniences they derive from IS and servants. Trades- ile, and, indeed, all ranks sr as well as the lower, are se belonging to the learned jsions for the valuable and of their varied talents ; f these professions are de- e who employ them, for which they are enabled to I, and maintain theii re- 1 dependence merely recip- hroughout the whole com- lose of one class can not ther classes around them, d of you." The correct- ent may be shown by the 1 which the materials and shoes will furnish. Sup- to be a home production, ibroad, it is stripped in the the carcase of an animal, r grazier, and slaughtered this skin is prepared by essed by the currier, pre- »t, shaped, and put togeth- ler and his assistants. In It parts of a shoe together, ed ; the wax being a com- ces usually imported ; and ' a twine-spinner of hemp rom the flax-dresser, who article, or purchases it f f before a single nail cxa. he 1 of a shoe, the miner must as iron ore ; the smelter in ;al from the dross with his • in beating out the pig-iron and the aailsmith in ro- s to the size and length re- nailsmith, the forger, the iner ; the twine-spinner and hoemaker, the currier, and 3 a variety of tools in their jns, which tools are made And the .commodities im- l are brought across the sea MAMMON AND MANHOOD. 15 in sliips, which mir'?*; be constructed, fitted out, iiid navigated, by ship-carpeuters, riggers, storekeepers, and sailors. Consequently, those who wear pegged shoes (which workiug and country people geaertUy prefer), are dei«en- dent, directly or indirectly, upon the shoe- Hiakef with Lis lor.g list of co-ojierators ;• and these again are all dependent upon the wear- ers e in]yo«8ible fur many et' thena to procure. If one person had to pro- vide and prepare all tlio roqaisTtoe for a pair of sixies, as well as to put tbein toiietlior, tlie price demanded as a fair renaticratiaii for time ooeuftied, and lab4r bestowed, must of necessity be incalculably great, lu a book entitled, " The Hesults e «r griad a stune. so as to be alJe to boil ■ lit- tle water in k, or nake k serve for a lamp, he wonM account liiuascif a poor man nit inore. A gipoy car- ri<»a about witli hiu more ef tl)e conveniences of iiCe, than are eujo\-ed by tite diiefs or rulers in countries which naturafly have nuch finer cliaates iitu* mary {narts of ODT owu." prompted by the love of money; and yet, notwithstanding all the light on this subject given in the Scriptures, and confirmed by gen- eral exijerience, men everywhere are occupied ia the constant and keen pursuit of wealth, and the prime object with the many is to ol)- taiii it, and to push their families foiward in the unhappy race of avarice and aggrandize- ment. For money, men sacrifice domestic comfort, health, character, and even hazard life itself; for it, they are guilty of fraud, deceirtion, and robbery. For money they sacrifice friendship, grati- tude, natural affection, and every holy and di- vine feeling. For money, man becomes a creeping, crawling, obsequious, despicable creature, instead of walking erect as the olF- spring of God. Mammon and Manhood are incompatible. Why all this anxiety about money ? why this constant fever, this pu.shing and driving in order to obtain it ? even because men form a false estimate of life and its elements. " A man'« life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he pos.sesseth." He who would LIVE must stir up the divine fire that is in him, to consume selfishness, and to dispense light aud heat to all around. Money he may seek in moderation, as a means, not as an end ; aud in order to preserve his manhood, he must learn to practise self-denial and economy, and to be contented with small things : above all, he must remember that God has set honor upon labor, by ajipoiuting man to live by la- bor; labor is truly honorable, and however mcoB the occupatiou may be. if honest, it is never disgracefuL Instead, therefore, of sinking Manhood in the pursuit of Mammon, by creeping, crawl- ing, aud bending to every one whom you may imagine can help you forward in the race of worldly advancement, stand erect, detennine in the strength of God to be a man, to buy the truth, at whatever cost, aud never to sell it for auy price ; to labor at any work if need- ful, to spetik what is in thy heart, and never to creep, and crawl, and mutter. God helps those who help themselves. Stand uptm thy Manhood in the world, not uptm thy Mammon; stand upon thy own character and upoii thj' own estimate of thy- self trade in all honesty, not ujion the opiji- ion of others. Be afraid of siu, but never shrink at misrepresentation, or at contunK-ly, or contemirt, or poverty. Why should you be afraid ? Life is in thyself, and thy enioy- ment should be unapproached and unapproach- able. It once was, when men were worthy of office the people knew it first, but now the office-seeker first finds it out. - ^"'^'••mmmtm i~5j Portr.it ef J.h» Haneoek. with fccrimita «f hi, signairre, e»pied from tl.e Declararion of iidependcBoe. ^ JOHN HANCOCK. Thy Bpint, Independrnce, let me nhare, Lord of the lion heart and oaglo eye, Thy stepa I follow ^*-itli my boaom bare, Nor heed llie etorm that howte atone the sfey Iinmortnl liberty, whose look Bttblinie Hath blanched Uie tyranf» cheek in every varying We have much pleasure m presenting to our reatlers a corrert jiortrait of the alwve- named celebrated imtriot, whose l)old awi inanly wgnatuire is sf» miich admired, on tho charter of our liberties, togeiher with a vie^v of tlM! old mansioii-house, still standing in Boston. ^ Jolui Hancock was bom at Qui'wv, near Boston, whence have emanated the two presi- dents Adams. He was the son and granilson of ennnrnt clergymen, but having early lost his father, was iiKlebted for a liberal edoca- tion to his uncle, a merchant of great wealth, whose counting-liousR he afterward entered, b«t sixm sailed for England, where lie was present at the coronation of George III. His uncle dying in 1774, he succeeded to his ?arge fortune asid bttsiness. He was active as a member of the provincial legislature uLiiinst the royal governor, and became so obnnxions to him, that after the battle of Lexington, he and Samuel Adams were excepted l)y name in a proclamation offering panlon to the rehels who should 8Ave«r fealty to Britain. They escaped fmm one door of a house as the Brit- ish soldiers entered it at anotTn^r, and thus their valuable petsoss were preserved to aid the good cause of the Revohition. Hancock was presiitent of the prwincial csongress of Massachusetts, until seirt a dole |»ate to the general congress at Philadelphia, m 1775, -where he was soon chosen to suc- ceed Peyton Randolph as president of that august assembly. H© was the first to alEx 11 MMi riWhMMH :Iararion of IiidepeodcnRc. he aftorwanl entered-, liilaml, vrhere lie was m of Gcorjjo III. His I succecdipil to his farge He was active as a ^al lej[jislature utjnin.st J became so olmoxions inttle of Lexfn^ton, Tie ere excepted by name nsi Jianlon to tbe rehe.ls Ity to Britarn. Thev of a house as the Brit- at anntlKT, and thus were preserved to aid Revohition. fent of the prmnticial etts, until seirt a dele gross at Philadelphia, s soon chosen to stic- 1 as president of that was the first to affix -it; fi W^' 18 JOHN HANCOCK. his signature to the Declaration of Intlei)en. dance, which was first published \vith no other name attached. He filled this important chaii ^11 1779, when gout compelled him to retire from congress. He was then elected govern- or of Massachusetts, and was annually chosen from 1780 to 1785, and after an interval of two years was re-elected, and continued to fill the office until his death, October 8th, 1793, at the age of fifty-six years. He acted also as president of the convention of the state for the adoption of the federal constitution, for which he voted. His talents were rather useful than brilliant. He seldom sjwke, but his knowledge of busi- ness, and facility in despatching it, together with his keen insight into the characters of men, rendered him peculiarly fit for public life. Being well acquainted with parliament- ary foiTns, he inspired respect by his atten- tion, impartiality, and dignity. In private life he was remarkable for his hospitality and be- neficence. He was a complete gentleman of the old school, both in appearance and man- ners, and was a magnificent liver, lavishly bountiful, keejping a coach and six horses, and distinguished for his politeness and affability. When Washington consulted the legislature of Massachusetts upon the propriety of bom- barding Boston, Hancock advised its beinw done immediately, if it would benefit the cause, although neariy his whole property consisted in houses and other real estate in that town. Carroll, of Carrollton, and Han- cock, probobly risked more property on the event of the struggle than any other two in- dividuals. The estate at Quincy, which was his inheritance, is now the property of our dis- tinguished countryman, the venerable ex-pres- ident, John Quincy Adams. The first provocation of the British gov- ernment which created a spirit of civil discord among her provinces, was the imposition of duties ui)on the importation of foreign mer- chandise, and other injuries impairing the pros- perity of the colonial commerce. Upon this occasion, oil the address and diligence of Mr. Hancock was exerted in opposition to a sys- tem of legislation so rapacious uiul tyrannical. It W03 by his agency, and that of a few other citizens of Boston, that for the purpose of procuring a revocation of these duties, asso- ciations were instituted to prohibit the impor- tation of British goods ; a j-iolicy which soon afterward being imitated by the other colonies, first served to awaken the apprehensions of the people, and to kindle those passions that were essential to the success of the war and the preservation of their liberties. The agi- tation of this subject produced no common animosity, and in some instances acts of atro- city and outrage, of which we may mention ps among the most consjjicuous, the case of Mr. Otis, who at the instigation of a British offi- cer, was assailed by a band of ruffians, with a violence which impaired his reason, and hastened his death. About the same time, a vessel belonging to Mr. Hancock, being loaded, it was said, in con- travention of the revenue laws, was seized by the customhouse officers, and carried under the guns of an armed vessel at the time in the harbor, for security; but the people, exas- perated by this offensive exertion of authority, assembled, and pursuing the officers, beat them with clubs, and drove them on board their vessels for protection. The boat of the collector was then burnt in triumph by the mob, and the he uses of some of his most ob- noxious adherents were, in the first trans])orts of popular fury, razed to the ground. Thus Mr. Hancock, in more ways than one con- tributed to set the great wheel of the Revolu- tion m motion, though he could not hiniself have approved of such acts, which were dis- approved by the legal authorities. Yet Han- cock derived from his connexion with the af- fair an increased popularity. At an assem- bly of the citizens, Mr. Hancock and others were appointed to request of the governor a removal of the British troops from the town, which the governor ottempted to evade. A second committee being selected, of which Mr. Hancock was chairman, voted the ex- cuses made inadmissible, and by a more per- eniptory tone of expostulation, urged and ob- tained their removal. This governor had complimented Hancock in 1767, with a lieu- tenancy. But declaring his determination to hold no office under a man whose vices and principles he considered hostile to the liberties of his country, he tore up the commission in presence of many citizens; for which bold act he received the severe reprehension and threats of the royal government. Of the modesty of Hancock there is a very beautiful anecdote related by his biograjihers. That there were members of the first Con- gress of superior age to his, and men at the same time of pre-eminent virtues and talents, vrill not be denied. The occasion was one upon which calnnr.css was essential, for rarely in the vicissitudes of nations, has it hapjiened that interests more sacred have been confided to the infirmity of human wisdom and integ- rity, or that a spectacle more imposing has been exhibited to human observation. Mr. Hancock's timidity at being called to fill the chair was relieved, it is said, by a strong- nerved member from the south, who led or jjore him to the speaker's seat ; when placed in thit conspicuous position, he presided with a dignity and capacity that extorted the re- spect and approbotion of even his enemies. ■MKn icuous, the case of Mr. gation of a British offi- i band of ruffians, with paired bis reason, and e, a vessel belonj^ng to aded, it was said, in con- ;nue laws, was seized icers, and carried under essel at the time in the but the people, exas- e exertion of authority, ling the officers, beat drove them on board tion. The boat of the mt in triumph by the F some of his most ob- (, in the first transports to the ground. Thus e ways than one con- t wheel of the Revohi- he could not himself acts, which werij dis- uthorities. Yet Han- connexion with the af- larity. At an assem- ■. Hancock and others lest of the governor a troops from the town, empted to evade. A g selected, of which irman, voted the ex- e, ajid by a more i)er- ilation, urged and ob- This governor had in 1767, with a lieu- a: his determination to man whose vices and hostile to the liberties up the commission in ens; for which bold ere reprehension and emment. mcock there is a very ;d by his biogra])hers. ers of the first Con- his, and men at the It virtues and talents, he occasion was one s essential, for rarely ions, has it happened d have been confided m wisdom and integ- ( more imposing has m observation. Mr. eing called to fill the s said, by a strong- e south, who led or s seat; when placed ion, he presided with hat extorted the re- even his enemies. JOHN HANCOCK. 19 After his death, his body lay in state at his mansion, where great multitudes thronged to pay th(! last offices of their grief and atfec- riou. His obsequies were attended with great pomp Qiid solemnity, and amid the tears of his countrymen, he was committed to the dust. His ■wife was a Miss Quincy, whom he married about twenty years before his death. Shi: was the daughter of an eminent magis- trate of Boston, and one of the most distin- guished families in New England. No chil- dren of this connexion were left to inherit his fortune or perpetuate his name ; his only son having died during his youth. In staiure Mr. Hancock was above the middle size, of excellent proportion of limbs, of extreme benignity of countenance, posses- sing a flexible and harmonious voice, a manly and dignified aspect. By the imjjrovjment of these natural qualities from observation and extensive 'ntercourse with the world, he had acquired a jjleasing elocution, with the most graceful and conciliating manners. Of his talents it is a sufficient evidence, that in the various stations he filled, he acquitted himself with an honorable distiiiction and capacity. His conununications to the general assembly, and his correspondence as president of con- gress, are enduring proofs of his putting his shoulder eflectively to the wheel of puolic affairs. His knowledge was practical and fa- miliar. He neither penetrated the intricacies of profound research, nor did he mount to in- accessible elevations. Hancock first put his name to the immortal Declaration of Independence ; had his life been marked by no other event, it would have entitled him to ever-enduring renown — ^but in connexion with that act, he combined great and useful wisdom in the councils of our in- fant nation, and his name ■will descend to pos- terity with untjualified lusti*. The old mansion in which Hancock lived, is situated upon the elevated ground in Bea- con-street, fronting toward the south, and com- manding a fine view of the " Common." The principal building is of hewn stone, " finished, not altogether in the modem style, nor yet in the ancient Gothic taste." It is raised twelve or thirteen feet above the street ; and the as- cent is throngh a garden, bordered with flowers and small trees. Fifty-six feet in breadth, the front terminates in two lofty stories. While occujiied by Governor Hancock, the east wing formed a s])aciou8 heU ; and the west wing was appropriated to domestic purposes : the whole embracing, •with the stables, coach- house, and other offices, an extent of two hundred and twenty feet. In those days, there was a delightful garden behind the man- sion, ascending gradually to the high lands in the rear. This spot was also handsomely em- bellished with glacis, and a variety of excol- lent fruit-trees. From the summer-house might be seen West Boston, Charlesttnvn, and the north part of the town ; the colleges, the bridges of the Charles and Mystic rivers — the ferry of Winnisimet, and " fine coun- try of that vicinity, to a great extent." The south and west views took in Roxbury, the highlands of Dorchester and Brookline, the blue hills of Milton and Braintree, together with numerous farmhouses, verdant fields, and laughing valleys. Upon the east, the islands of the harbor, " from Castle William to the lighthouse, engaged the sight by turns, which at last was lost in the ocean, or only bounded by the horizon." Governor Hancock inherited this estate from his uncle, Thomas Hancock, Esq., who erected the building in 1737. At that period, the "court part of the to'wn" was at the " north end," and his fellow-citizens marvel- led not a little that he should have selected, for a residence, such au unimproved spot as this then was. In the lifetime of that venerable gentleman, the doors of hospitality were opened to the stranger, the poor, and distressed ; and annu- ally, on the anniversary of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company, he entertained the governor and council, and most respecta- ble personages, at his house. The like atten- tions were shown to the same military body by Governor Hancock, who inherited all the urbanity, generous spirit, and virtues of his uncle. It is now', we believe, the property of some of the descendants of Governor Hancock, and rented as a jirivate dwelling. But since the demise of that eminent man, the hand of time and improvement has been constantly con- tending, around and against it. It can not long resist such attacks; and, before many years elapse, this famous mansion will proba- ily be razed to the ground, " and its place supplied by others." Government or Temper. — Every human creature is sensible of the propensities to some infirmity of temper, which it should be his care to correct and subdue, particularly in the early period of life ; else, when arrived at a state of maturity, he may relapse into those faults which were originally in his nature, and which will require to be diligently watched and kept unde-, through the whole course of life ; since nothing leads more directly to the breach of charity, and to the injury and mo- lestation of our fellow-creatures, than the in- dulgence of an ill-temper. ■n 20 NEW ENGLAND LinEEALITY. SCHOOLS, AND INSTITUTIONS. NEW ENGLAND LIBERALITY, SCHOOLS. AND INSTITUTIONS. " Fon lonniins, bo liberal. Sniiro no cost ; for by f luh jidi^iinuny, all ia lost ttint ia sftvcii ; but ll!t it 111! CaEKUI. KNOWLEDOE, Buch as U coii.^ist- eiit with truth and godlinosa." — William Penx. The first settlers of New England are just- ly entitled to a large share of the credit of having given an impulse to the cause of pop- ular education. In the year l(iG8, a document was ])ubli.shed, by t^rder of the governor and coimcil of Massachusetts, and oddressed to the elders and ministers of every to\vn, in which paper was set forth an earnest desire for the moral and religious instruction of the peo[)le, and an appeal to those to whom the instrument was directed, to examine whether the education of youth in the English language was attended to. From the time of Win- TURop, ]\I.\TiiER, and their associates, who labored most zealously in this field of useful- np.ss, to the present period, New England has devoted her attention to the promotion of knowledge ; and in the industry, integrity, ond frugality, of her children, beholds now the bril- liant results of her perseverance. When we consider that the tide of emigration, which is sweeping before it the forests of the west, takes its rise in the eastern section of the Uni- ted States, and bears upon its bosom the ele- ments of enrichment — that it is composed in a great degree of those who have been enabled there to obtain the rudiments of learning — the first principles of valuable information — ought we not to be grateful to those who have toiled, and feel it to be both a privilege and duty to acknowledge with gratitude the many princely donations of the " sons of the pilgrims" to the cause of education, in order to keep the fount- ain well supplied, pure, and transparent, for future use 7 When proper respect is thus paid to such as are possessed of those liberal talents and enlightened views, which constitute true GREATNESS, it must evidently be productive of the happiest consequences — especially to youth, whose minds are so open to impres- sions, and on whom the force of example acts with an imjiortant effect, that con not fail of prcKlucing a corresponding good — exciting a laudable emulation : leading their views from grovelling pursuits to a search after and love of virtue, knowledge, and the various quali- ties which strengthen society, brighten the social links which bind man to his fellow-man, and so pre-eminently distinguishes the mem- bers of a civilized, intelligent community, from the rude and unenlightened nations of coun- tries where education and its train of blessings have never been, or arc but imperfectly known. There is something peculiarly jdeas- ing and impressive in the contemplntion of great and good characters — in thoiie who just- ly claim the appellation; — we view, ad- mire, and feel an irresistible longing to be like them, to imitate their virtues, and to jiractise their precepts ; we feel ourselves better, and destined to an advancement in knowledge and strength, from the proud con.sciou.sness of par- taking their natures, and possessing, however humble, a spark of that celestial, intellectual fire, which illumines so brilliantly their minds, and emanates from one common source — the great and inexhaustible Fountain of light and goodness ! It is universally admitted that ignorance is the fruitful source of crime and misery. This fact is sufficient, we should imagine, to arouse the most profound attention, and create the deepest anxiety in the bosom of every i)liilan- thropist. The necessity of educating the peo- ple of a free government is admitted on every side ; and yet, through a culpable inertness, in many states of the Union, on the part of those whose duty it is to move forward on this mo- mentous subject, an immense portion tif those into whose hands the destinies of this last sanctuary of freedom must be delivered, is left in total darkness, and wholly unac(piainted with the infonnation necessary to the formation of valuable citizens. The cause of freedom — the tranquillity of our country — the ]iresent happiness and future prosperity of millions- demand activity, and exhort the people of the United States to unite in a " crusade against ignorance" — a crusade in which every true knight, who rallies under the holy standard, can lay the flattering unction to his heart that he is the champion of the cause of truth, and of the disenthralment of the human mind from the most debasing species of servitude. Let the watchword be, in the ever-vigilant camp of the faithful, " Liberty and Education." We have been led into this train of reflec- tion by j)erusing in the public prints, from time to time, accounts of the various munifi- cent individual donations of the wealthy, pa- triotic, and benevolent citizens of Boston, in support of its institutions for moral, religious, and literary purposes — continuing unabated from year to year.* Among the most recent, we notice the donations of Hon. Abbott Law- rence to Harvard college, amounting to fif- ty thousand dollars. Hon. David Sears has also given ten thousand dollars to the same institution, and a like sum to Amherst • Boston has been called Uie " literary emporium of the western world," and perhaps justly, for it is a fact that a greater portion of men disiiiiffuished for acquisitions of this nature have arisen in this city and the vicinity, than in any other part of the United States. iii iMOn i iiM * )!! mi I iWi j i a l Mi MMbH ■Mli 'ITUTION3. r ore but im])erfectly lething ijcculiiiily jileos- n the conteinplntion of itflrs — in thoiii who just- ntion ; — we view, Dtl- listible longinj; to he like ■ virtues, and to practise el ourselves better, and sment in knowledge and ud consciousness of par- md possessing, however int celestial, intellectual brilliantly their minds, 10 common source — the le Fountain of light and mitted that ignorance is rime and misery. This lould imagine, to arouse tention, and create the bosom of every i)hilan- ity of educating the peo- mt is admitted on every 1 a culpable inertness, in ion, on the part of those >ve forward on this ino- fimense portion of those 5 destinies of this last aust be delivered, is left holly unac(piainted with ary to the formation of he cause of freedom — r country — the ])resent prosperity of millions — sxhort the people of the B in a " crusade against 3 in which every true der the holy standard, inction to liis heart that the cause of truth, and if the human mind from ;ies of servitude. Let the ever- vigilant camp RTT AND Education." nto this train of reflec- he public prints, from of the various munifi- ms of the wealthy, pa- ; citizens of Boston, in ms for moral, religious, — continuing unabated Vmong the most recent, lof Hon. Abbott Law- lege, amounting to fif- 3. Hon. David Sears ousAND dollars to the a like sum to Amherst id tlie " literary emporium i perlmpB justly, for it is a of men distiiiffuished for Imve arisen in tliis city and other part of the United NEW ENGLAND LIBEllALITY, SCHOOLS, AND INSTITUTIONS. 21 collegi.* Amos Lawrenck, Esq., Hon. Thom- as II. Pkiikins, William Api'lkton, Es(|., and many oth(;r gentlemen of well-kmnvu lili- crality, in Massachusetts, have contributed of their abundance to the advancement of learn- ing. Such instances of enlightened liberality are to bo highly commended, and constitute one of the noblest features of New England gooroken the silence of the giuveyard with the wild ond fitful mur- murings of their harps ; but the vrild notes were only as the gusts of mournful wind which sweep round the sepulchre, and breathe a balmy sadness over the peopled solitude.-— Young, Blair, and Porteus, will be quoted aa contradictory of this : it %vill be said tney sung a lofty pa;an of triumph, ond their songs were not the songs of death. Yes, but they did not set their foot upon corruption : they walked round the grave and sang ; their spirits should have entered the grave; they should have flashed the fires of immortality on the very place of worms ; they should have torn down the mystic curtain, and shown that death is actually not dreadful ; that death has actually no power; thot universolly as the spirit of corruption reigns, the spirit of immortolity starts with flashing pinions from the ashes of corruption ; that every sad rite and funereal solemnity, every solemn marble and falling tear, every national funeral ceremony, is the proud and towering evidence of death's defeat ; that annihilation is a thing unknown through all the range of finite and infinite ; that &- struction is innovation, and renovation immor- tality. And this can be shown. It can be seen that all burial-rites are holy solemniries. Ay, holy ! for fantastical and superstitious as they may seem, they all contein one grand assumption : that at the cessation (shall we thus call it ?) of mon's existence, his vitd part returns to its grand and primal origin. K the followers of Thales interred in water, it was because water was believed to be the origin of all things, and the destiny of man. Wny ■lfj< BURIAL PLACES AND FUNEUAL 1UTE8. difl tlm (Iisriplos of Hrrnrlitim huiM tli.> lii,-), funcroQ iiilc, mill why, nmi(. hunnn Ixirri mill cradled he Kiiirmns (liiii" It it iniijlitKlicd its cks l(iiay a small sum for the passage. This circumstance has been carefulh/ transplanted into the Oreeiiin mythology. The cemetery was a large plain, surrounded by trees and intersected by canals, to which was given the apjiellation Elisout, or Eli^iicus, meaning rest. Every one recog- nises in this description the Greek Charon, his boat. 111-; ferry-money, and the Elysian fields. The wIkpI'; ceremony of interment seems to hav(; ci insisted in depositing the money in nn cxeavuti.in niad(! in a rock, or under the sand, which covered the whole Elisout; then the relatives of the deceased threw three han piece of art im- presses the mind of the beholder with an over- whelming feeling of amaze that such a build- ing should be a monument to death. • • • • • • « Qolconda, near which are the tombs repre- sented in one of our engravings, is a Tv '•^'•ess of Hindostan, formerly the capital of the prov- ince of the same name. It is the residence of the kings. This fortress, for extent, might be called a city, in the middle of which rises a hill like a sugar-loaf. It is esteemed by her natives impregnable, but is extremely hot and unhealthy. It is now the repository of the wealth of the Nizam. The principal mineral production of this country is that most inval- uable of gems, the diamond. It is generally found in the narrow crevices of the rocks, loose, and never adherent to the strong strat- um. The miners, with long iron rods, which have hooks at the end, pick out the contents of the fissures, and wosn them in tubs, in or- der to discover the diamonds. Hindostan is famous for its diamond-mines. In Calour, near Golconda, they dig in « large plain to the mmok wmm^mitimtmKmmmm MBMH TE8. Body : designed from the ancient ize on and admire, but scenes lis notice. The entrance i? a red stone inlaid with white al architecture has here lav- veTB, especially in the domed xt hall, and the wido-stretch- le place of actual sepulture is latchless beauty around it on lites of apartments, consisting in each, all of white marble, of perforated marble for the a of air, and opening to the ndow-frames are of marble; this superb piece of art im- of the beholder with an over- ; of amaze that such a build- monument to death. I • • • • J which are the tombs repre- our engravings, is a Tv^-'^'-ess rmerly the capital of the prov- narae. It is the residence of i fortress, for extent, might be the middle of which rises a •loaf. It is esteemed by her ible, but is extremely hot and is now the repository of the izam. The principal mineral is country is that most inval- be diamond. It is generally irrow crevices of the rocks, adherent to the strong strat- rs, with long iron rods, which le end, pick out the contents ind wash them in tubs, in or- ;he diamonds. Hindostan is diamond-mines. In Calour, bey dig in « large plain to the o B a t ^0 BURIAL-PLACES AND FUNERAL RITES. depth of ten or fourteen feet : forty thousand persons are employed, the men to dig, and the women and children to carry the earth to the places in which it is to be deposited before the search is made. Diamonds are also found in the gravel or sand of rivers, washed out of iheir beds and carried down with the stream. The river Oonel, near Sumbulpour, is the most noted for them. Many other precious stones are foimd in .lis country. Beautiful, indeed, are the environs of Gol- conda, adorned wi.'h the tombs of her former rulers! Magnificent mausoleums of marble and gold — tnarblc wrought with the finest chis- elling — woodwork where the delicate tracery of the carver is covered over with rich gold, so that the whole seems as if wrought in the priceless gold-mines of the world ! The ar- chitecture of these noble monuments of former times, although neither Ionic, Gothic, nor Co- rinthian, is at once impressive and eH'ective. In fact, all the monuments of the Hindoos seem calculated to inspire the beholder with awe and admiration. While the domes of their buildings do not compare in symmetry and geometrical accuracy of measurement with the far-famed dome of St. Peter's, yet the eye of the beholder is dazzled, and, after gazing in mute admiration upon them for hours, he turns away dissatisfied, only to look back again. There are many tombs near Golconda ; — twelve of these, however, are lofty and sub- lime in appearance ; and when their domes ore gilded by the rays of the setting sun, and the scene is rendered lifelike by the presence of a caravan of camels, loaded with the rich treas- ures of the eastern world — men dressed in gay costume, or resplendent with the glitter of burnished armor — truly may we say, " Gol- C05DA ! thy diamonds glitter in tlie mines : but even on the surface are gems of priceless value.'" When the reader looks upon the tomb of Hyder Ali, the splendid pile of building will remind him of one of the most remarkable men, for such he really was. Its occupant rose from a gituation of the most absolute ob- scurity ; and gradually passing, as by on in- clined plane, to the command of the army, he deposed the rajah Ntinjerej, and was chosen to govern the destinies of tndia. Hyder Ali died at the advanced age of eighty. The engraving represents the superb place of sepulture in which both Hyder Ali and his son, Tippoo Saib, are deposited. To attempt a descnption of this illustrious mausoleum, would, indeed, be preposterous. The best de- scription is that afforded by a view of the en- graving; but all, all is faint, save the vasi original. Moral is the name given at Otaheite, in the South-sea islands, to the large burial-grounds, which were formerly places of public worship. One of their most sacred places consisted of a pile of stone raised pyrumidically upon an ob- long base. On each side was a flight of steps ; those at the sides being broader than those at the ends,, so that it terminated, not in a 8(|uare of the same figure with the base, but in a rid^e, like the roof of a house. There wore eleven of these steps to one of these morais, each of which was four feet high ; so the height of the pile was forty-four feet. Each step was formed of one course of white coral stone, which was neatly si]uared and polished. The rest of the mass — for there was no hollow within — consisted of rounded pebbles, which, from the regularity of their figure, seemed to have been wrought. The foundation was of rock-stones, which were also squared. In the middle of the top stood the figure of a bird carved in wood, and near it lay the broken one of a fish carved in stone. The whole of this pyramid made part of one side of a spa- cious area or s<|uare, three hundred and sixty feet by three hundred and fifty-four, which was walled in with stone, and paved with flat stones its whole extent. About a hundred yards from this building was another paved areo or court, in which were several small stages raised on wooden pillara, about seven feet high, called by the Indians ewattas. To stand round an open grave in a country churchyard; to hear the dust rattle on the coffin-hd ; the deep, stifled sob, the roll of the mutHed bell, and the deep voice of the stoled priest — all these rive solemnity to the im- pressive 8»rviee. But a burial by land is not so solemn as a burial by sea. There is some- thing in that event peculiarly impressive : the winds whistling through the flapping shrouds above, and the solemn voice of the waves dashing against the vessel beneath, — these make the music of the service, and ring the dirge and the requiem over the departed. In the former case, the dead one is laid to rest with his fathers, in conformity with the usages of society, beneath the green turf, perhaps in the quiet valley where he first breathed life's breath : at any rate, in the land of his birth— his own country. But in the latter, there is no green mountain swelling in the dist&nce, no sloping valley nor churdi-tnrret ; but all along the horizon swells one vast waste of waters, and as far as the eye can reach it glances over the blue and bounding waves. And no fringed pall is there : the national ban- ner circles his form for a winding-sheet, and his last bed is his cotBn. And who shall stand and gaze on the scene, and say that sailors have not the hearts of other men, when around the simple burial ? You may see the forms of men marked with the tears of honorable ?i the large burial-grounds, f j)laces of public worship, jcred places consisted of a pyrumidically upon an ob- 1 side was a flight of steps ; ;ing broader than those at erminated, not in a scjuare with the base, but in a of a house. There wore 18 to one of these morals, i four feet high ; so the 'as forty-four feet. Each one course of white coral atly s(]uared and polished. i — for there was no hollow f rounded pebbles, which, ' of their figure, ssemed ;ht. The foundation was ;h were also squared. In p stood the figure of a bird J near it Iny the broken in stone. The whole of part of one side of a spa- , three hundred and sixty red and fifty-four, which stone, and paved with flat (tent. About a hundred ilding was another paved hich were several small loden pillara, about seven the Indians ewattas. ™ open grave in a country IT the dust rattle on the stifled sob, the roll of the e deep voice of the stoled ve solemnity to the im- (ut a burial by land is not .1 by sea. There is some- )cculiarly impressive : the )ugh the flapping shrouds emn voice of the waves 5 vessel beneath, — thesr; the service, and ring the ta over the departed. In s dead one is laid to rest onformity with the usages the green ttirf, perhaps in sre he first breathed life's in the land of his birth — tut in the latter, there is swelling in the distance, )r church-turret ; but all nvells one vast waste of as the eye can reach it ue and bounding waves. 8 there : the national ban- for a winding-sheet, and fin. And who shall stand me, and say that sailors f other men, when around You may see the forms li the Bears of honorable 32 BLANKET8. war, and many a one raising his coat to wipe away the tear that can not be suppressed. And where should be the sailor's grave, but beneath those billows over which he so tri- umphantly rode ? His career was unchained — so let liis grave be ! He goes down to a " drpth which no plummet, save GihI's omni- presence, has ever fathomed ;" and if loath- some things creep over him, will he heed their assaults, secure in his last rci>i)se ? And may we not then echo the (luestion of the poei Howitt — " Will ho rise less joyiuUy when the last irumpet rings over the waters, than those who laid them down in the ornamented cem- etery ?" We trow not. But one of the most interestingly solemn scenes in which we can wander is a village churchyard. Indeed, our readers know that the poet's harp rung in solemn strains amid iis simple tombs. Our poets have dwelt in pensive, beautiful melancholy, reflecting on its scenes — the once-busy and agitated hearts which lie beneath the sod, and the balmy trantiuillity — emblem of a deeper repose — which Nature flings over the spot. And e burial-place is, of all others, the most soothing. That is a fine expression in the book of Job — " there the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." It is a beautiful thought : their hearts so still, so tranquil, were agiteted as much as ours ; their heads were the seats of thought; their arms and legs were once active ; their eyes could once drink in the bsauties of nature's scenery ; their hearts were susceptible of the same emotions as ours : they stood perhaps in this very churchyard, and felt, as they looked on surrounding graves, the same emotions which we feel ! A few years, and another generation will stand in the churchyard, and we shall be in our graves. And when our minds revert to burials, to mon- uments, and to burial-customs, by what va- riety are we surrounded ! The lonely mound, the stranger's grave, where no daisy blooms, no cypress hangs, no mourner weeps ; the neat sepulchral stane, with the trimmed grass, and perchance a flower showing its mild beauty on the brow of death. Then the monumental pile, the flattering epitaph, the entablature of ancestral birth and daring deefls. Can we go further than this ? Oh, yes : the proud mau- soleum, more like a palace than a place of bones ; where the Parian marble gleams in its whiteness, and the sculptor's noble effigies seem almost to breathe in stone ; but of the alumberers beneath it may be said — " The rtorm which wrenk* our wintry Ay No more disturbg their deep repose Than guinmer evening'* lBte»l sigh, When shuu the rose." There are some spectacles in the world from •which one shrinks back with horror, while oth- er circumstances would only create in our minils a feeling of complacent delight. Such a spectacle is the crow(leil metropolitan church- yard. The feelings it excites are truly inde- scribable. The crowded seat of -H'stilence and death, the torturing memento »i the miseries of life, with no whisper of the repose which is beyond ; oh ! one shrinks from burial in snch a town, more than from death itself. But a village churchyard — and often have we leaned over its gravestones, and sighed to think that we were not as those beneith us — there is nothing so sweet as a country churchyard. By moonlight the beams rest on the neat graves and fall on the tombstones, like faith conquer- ing doubt ; and eier and anon, as some fitful breeze sweeps by, making sad melody, the voices of the dead seem to speak in each hol- low gust : while, round the old gray chirch- tower, standing secure in its hoary solitude, their spirits seem to walk, " breathing fresh beauty amid the gloom of graves." BLANKETS. How the casements rattle ! and hark, how the bitter, biting blast whistles among the trees ! It's very cold, and wwn it will be cold- er. We could shiver at the thought cf win- tor, when the icicles hang from the water-butt, when the snow lies deep up walk, " breathing fresh om of graves." iNKETS. Its rattle ! and hark, how last whistles among the I, and soon it will be cold- rcr at the thought cf vnn- hang from the water-butt, I deep upon the ground ; wind seems to freeze the finger-ends. : darkest night, the bitter- udest storm, confer some le us thankful for the roof ire that warms us, and for ce of a comfortable bed. ' a good, thick, warm pair the wintry blast roars in the feathery flakes of snow md the sharp hail patters panes ! v'fl a hundred miles on the on a sharp frosty night ; , your face smarting, and ified ? Wd you ever keep r in the open air, till the blast had pinched all your Tiess; till your feet were d the very stars tppeared sky ? If you have never , we have; but what are h the trials that some peo- ? ! sufferings of thousands of ter, from the want of warm vho can describe the com- two of blankets communi- caaisTMAS m OEaMANV. 33 catc to a destitute family ! How often have we seen the wretched cTiildren of a wretched haliitation, huddling together on the floor, be- neath a ragj^d great-coat, or flimsy petticoat, striving •-. derive that warmth from each other wiriich their scanty covering failed to supply. In many places, benevolent jiersons give or lend blankets to the poor, and thus confer a benefit, the value of which can hardly be told. May they be abundantly repaid by the grace of that Savior who said, when speak- ing of kindnesses done to his disciples: '• Inas- much as yc have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done iS unto me." Think of these things now, for it will be ot' no use to reflect on them in summer. Chari- ty is never so cordial as when she feels the misery she relieves : while you feel the cold, then, do something to protect others from the inclemency of the season. It is enough to be ill-fed, and ill-clothed, and to sit bending over a dying fire without a handful of fuel to revive it ; but after that to pass the night without a blanket for a covering, must indeed be terrible. See, in the sharpest night the poor oloor, and the spare remnants of their clothing would defend them from the cold. Come, come, reader ! you are not without some feeling of pity and affection for your fel- low-creatures. Be not satisfied in wishing them well ; let something be done for their welfare. If there be a heart within you, if you have a soul that ever olfated up an expression of thanksgiving for the manifold mercies which your heavenly Father has bestowed upon you, then sympathize with the wretched, and relieve, according to your ability, the wants of the destitute. Let me beseech you to do something this very winter toward enabling some poor, aged, helpless, or friendless person, who is slenderly provided for, to purcnase a blanket. You will not sleep the less com- fortably, when you reflect that some shivering wretch has been, by your assistance, enabled to pass the wintry night in comfort. It is not a great thing thot is required ; do what you can, but do something. Let us not plead in vain ; and shame betide us, if we neglect to do, ourselves, the thing that we recommend to you to perform. Did you ever lie snug and warm, in bleak December, the bedclothes drawn close round your neck, and your nightcap pulled over your ears, listi.'ning to the midnight blast, and ex- ulting in ihe grateful glow of your delightful snuggery 7 We know you nave, and we trust, too, that the very reading of these re- marks wll alfect your hearts, and dispose you to some gentle deed of charity toward those who are destitute of such an enjoyment. Now, then, while the subject is before you, while you look round on your manifold com- forts, while you feel the nipping and frosty air, resolve, ay, and act, in a way that will bless others, and give comfort to your own heart. Youth and health may rejoice in frost and snow, and while the warm blood rushes through the exulting frame, we can smile at the wintry blast ; but age, sickness, and in- firmity, can take no exercise sufficient to quicken the sluggish current of their veins. Wrap them round, then, with your charity, help them to obtain a pair of warm blankets, and the blessing of the widow and the father- less, the aged and infirm, the destitute, and those ready to perish, shall rest upon you. CHRlSTiMAS IN GERMANY. I.f Germany, the custom extensively pre- vails, of placing, at Christmas, a small ever- green tree in every house, and after covering its branches with various presents intended for the children, to suspend numerous little lamps or tapers to all parts of it, and late in the evening, to exhibit it to the assembled family. As the presents are marked with the names of the donors as well as those for whom they are intended, the occasion excites much in- terest ; and it will be found th^t Germans gen- erally cherish the recollection of the annual festival with lively pleasure. It is not un- common to find instances in which this custom has been observed in this country, either by Germans or by their imitators. The tree usually chosen being the silver fir, which is remarkable for the great number and ui»>form- ity of its twigs and branches, the sight is often 8 riking and beautiful. The gay and varied co'jrs of the little gifts strongly illuminated by *he blazing lamps, and relieved by the dark *cliage of the evergreen, have quito a m r- mmmtm mmm mm warn H *^' ■:^.v V .f.i^'" CUSTOMHOUSE, PHILADELPHIA. 35 rich anil ikz/.linfj etrcct ; and the feelings (if Ifcnenmity ami gratituite shared by the mem- ijcrs ()(■ a haiipy family circle, are such as must render tlie scene (loubly agreeable. Of the date or origin of the custonn, we are not infonncd : but while we refer it to those pe- riods when religious occasions were first con- nected with observonceg with few or no traces of their Christian associations, we admit that this is one of the most hannk'ss kind. It would iiid(?ed have been better if those who thought it a duty to commemorate Christmas hud adoiitc'd some mode adaj)ted to direct the mind to the character, doctrines, or objects of the Savior: but we can not l(K)k upon the j)icture we have given, and see Luther with his family, with a Christmas-tree blazing be- fore thcMn, without some impressive recollec- tion of him and the peculiar period in which he lived. CUSTOMHOUSE, PHILADELPHIA. FORMKRLT UNITKD STATES BANK. This is one of those chaste and beautiful liuildiiigs which have given the jmblic archi- tecture of Philadelphia a superiority over that of every other city of our country. It needs but that its fair marble should be weather-fretted and stained, to express per- fectly to the eye the model of one of the most graceful temples of antifjuity. The se- vere simplicity of taste which breathes through this Greek model, however, is not adapted to private buildings; and in a certain kind of simplicity, or rather want of ornament, lies the fault found by every eye in the domestic architecture of this city. The chess-board regularity of the streets,' so embarrassing to a stranger, a.s well as tiresome to the gaze, re- ouire a more varied, if not a more ornate style. The hundreds of houses that resemble each other in every distinguishable particular, oc- casion a bewilderment and fatigue to the un- accustomed eye, which a citizen of Philadel- phia can scarcely comprehend. The uniformity and plainness which Wil- liam Penn has be(iueathed in such an abiding legacy to Philadelphia, however, is seen but by II faint penumbra in the dress of the in- habitants, or in their equipages, style of liv- ing, and costliness of furniture and entertain- ment. A faint shadow of original simplicity there still certainly exists, visible through all the departures from the spirit of Quakerism; and it is a leaven of taste and elegance in the ferment of luxury which has given Philadel- phia em])hatically a character for refinement. A more delightful temper and tone of society, a more enjoyable state of the exercise and mode of hos])itality, or a more comfurtablo metropolis to live in, certainly does not exist this side the water. A European would jire- fer Phila(lel|)hia to every other residence in the United States. Evorybodv has heard of the celebrated but unfortunate tjiiitcd States bank, from its con- nexion with the government, as its fonner fis- cal agent. At the time of its dissolution it was operating uuder a charter from the state government, under the title of " The United States Bank of Pennsylvania," with a capital of $30,000,000. Its original capital wus $35,000,000, which was distributed between the parent bank and nineteen branches. The comer-stone was laid in April, 1819, and the whole was finished near the close of 18l>4. The cost of the ground was #155,628 — of the structure itself, $257,4512 — making an aggregate of $413,081 ; an expense which may be regarded as very moderate, when we consider the great mass of materials which it contains ; there being not less than 41,500 cubic feet of marble in the porticoes and walls — about three millions of bricks, three thou- sand perches of building-stone, and seventeen nnd a half tons of copjicr on the roof. In choosing the situation of such a building, its centrality and its convenience for business were of course more important considerations than pictures<|ue elFect ; and the lot — a parol- lelogram of 152 feet by 225 — is, on that ac- count, more circumscribed than would be de- sirable. This defect was to be obviated by ])lacing the structure as far as possible from the street — by insulating it entirely — by inter- {Miging nothing between the spectator and the building — and by raising the foundation so as to acquire for the whole an artificial elevation, which to the eye would produce the efiect of distance. Accordingly, in the centre of the ground is constructed a terrace, 3 feet high, 119 feet in front, and 225 in dejith, serving as tht foundation from which, ot the distance of 16 feet from its front and flunk edges, the building rises. It occupies 87 feet in front, and 187 feet in depth, including the steps, or 161 feet excluding them. On reaching the terrace, which, in order to preserve its form entire, is done by steps in the rear of the gate- ways, the building is appro' uhed by a flight of steps along the whole front — 13 in number, and occupying 13 feet in depth. These lead to the portico, which has a basement of 10 feet 6 inches in width, on which stand eight Grecian Doric columns, 4 feet 6 inches in diameter, 27 feet in height-;-fluted, and with- out bases, and supporting a simjile entablature and a pediment, which, like the roof, has just !«S ■ji ia^f«sfeiS«ss^s^w€f«««*a^*«-5:as^Kg^ir'* that (Iep"ce of elevation npcrasary to carry off the water — the vertical angle being 153 de- ^roes. Behind the columns, anil at the due distance from them — the width between the two columns at the end of the portico— is the wall of the building. The door opens upon a vestibule of 30 feet by 18 in width, the ceil- innr of which is richly worked, and the pave- ment tesselated with American and Italian marble. The structure is copied after that of the Parthenon at Athens — the colonnades on the sides, and certain other merely decorative parts of the original being dispensed with in the copy, on account of the size and structure of the lot upon which it is erected. The ex- terior is of the Doric style, from the richest materials of American and Italian marble. The large banking-room is situated in the centre of the building, and extends 48 feet in breadth, and 81 in length. Through the whole of this length, on each side, at the dis- tance of ten feet from the walls, is a range of six fluted Ionic columns, twenty-two inches in diameter, The entire building is justly re- garded as one of the finest specimens of Gre- cian architecture in the country. The inte- rior is vaulted throughout, and arched, so as to be entirely fire-proof, and the roof is cop- pered. The rooms are warmed by a furnace below, the heut from which diffuses an equal temper- ature throughout its whole extent, while in summer the massiveness of the structure pre- serves its coolness. From this sketch may be gathered the de- gree of its resemblance to the ancient temples, and especially to the Parthenon, from which some of its proportions are taken. In its gen- eral dimensions it is much larger than the Temple of Theseus at Athens, and smaller than the Parthenon. Their respectiva pro- portions are these : — Front, LengDi, ezclading ttepa. excluding itep*. Temple of Thewai, 45 ft. ii in. 104 It. 3 in. Parthenon. 101 ft. 1 io. 827 ft. 7 in. U. S. Bank, 67 ft 161 ft., making the Parthenon 14 feet 1 inch wider, and 66 feet 7 inches longer than the bank ; but as the Temple of Theseus has only two steps, and the Parthenon only three, while the bank has 13, extending 13 feet on each front, the length of the buildings, respectively, Includitg the steps, would be considerably va- ried, the length of the bank from the outer step being 187 feet, that of the Parthenon, 236 feet 9 inches. The comparison may be best illustrated by the fact that the Parthe- non, with its steps, covers an extent of ground nearly, but not quite equal, to the area of the terrace of the bank. As, however, the double row of columns in the portico and the flanking colonnade rcijuired so much space, the actual dimensions of the interior of the two buildings are much more nearly equal than these pn)portion8 would in- dicate. Thus : the enclosed part of the Por- thenon was in width 70 feet 6 inches; in length, 158 feet 7 inches ; and the whole area of the enclosure was therefore 11,181 feet; while the enclosure of the bank is in width 87 feet; in length, 141 feet; making an area of 12,267 feet, or, 1,806 feet more than that of the Parthenon. The interior of the Parthenon, after de- ducting the pronaos and posticum at the two ends, occupying 12 feet each, was divided in- to two rooms, the treasury or opisthodomos, of 62 feet by 42 feet 10 inches, and the great central hall, the scene of all the exhibitions, which wos 98 feet seven inches by 42 feet 10 inches, while the banking- room is 48 feet by 81, giving an area very nearly equal. The principal differences between the two buildings are these. The Parthenon had a cobnnade on the flanks, which here is want- ing. This bU8 and beautifully or- d fluted columns, and jrder. It is at present Banking Compeny. :e, that, on the site of idelphia, only one hum- , lived a people in such •ove (save only in hos- •ed by William Penn, S B B 2. •o B I u S r !0 f " The natives I shall considfr in their per- »()n«, Iniiirtinse, ninmirrs, nlisrion, anil goycrn- mrnt, with my hciiw; of thoir nri^inal. For their pcrKoriH, thcyun; f;encrally tall, titraight, we]!-l)uilt, and ot' NJUKiilur jiroportion ; tliey trcail Htnmijaniiplcver, and mostly walk with a lofty chin. Of complexion, black, liut by >y|»«ie8 in Kntflund ; they grraso tlicrn-iclvcs with bear's fat, clarified ; niid using no defence a^jainst sun or weather, their skins triiiMt needs be swarthy. Their eye is little and black, not unlikt! a straight-lisiked Jew. Tile thick lip and Hat nose, so frei|uent with the Kast Indians and blacks, are not com- mon to them; many of them have fine Roman noses, " Their language is lofty, yet narrow ; but like the Hebrew, in signification full. Like short hand in writing, one word serveth in the pliice of three, and the rem are supplied by the understanding of the hearer; imper- fect in their tenses, wanting in their moiHls, participles, adverbs, conjunctions, and inter- jections. "Of their customs and manners there is much to bfl said : I will begin with chiMren. So s(X)n as th(!Y are bom, they wash them in water ; and while very young, and in cold weather, they ])lunge them in the rivers, to harden and embolden them. The children will walk very young — at nine months, com- monly : if boys, they go a fishing till ripe for the w(Mxls, which is about fifteen ; then they huiit, and after having given some prcwfs nf their manhofxl by a goods and fields, thon in vears of forced ellbrt, or strained intellectual culti- vation. For the first ten years of life, the child wants physical developments ond licart-cM- turc. No metaphysics are needed to explain goodness. The very infant knows thai at sight. No exertion of intellect is re(|uired to explain kindness. The veriest child under- stands that by instinct. By this goodness and kindness, then, we should lead the young on and up, and then prepare the way for harder effort am) serious intellectual exertion. But these should never be anticipated ; no growing child should be forced to reason, to study, to overload the memory wth tough logic, over- task the brain w'th tougher abstractions ; all that we should look, labor, or long for, is o full, fine physical ilevclopment, buoyancy of spirit, and a heart joyous as the sjjring-time, with sensations keenly alive to every gentle or generous appeal, and emotions quick to an- swer the call or command of goodness, as the truest basis of sure future development, and a constant, ever-growing moral and intellectual power. B«t. 'iTiryhiivo like- ans iind jtras that are the wtNxIs and rivers ' THE HEART. with children i.^, to . Let a b(iy snv a )w "riiiicknefis, nn(f wo i\k of him BH n genius, are (lplic;htr(l. You ■ pn>niiHiiig — liow ik)- ip.ke a man — wo shall lim T Arc fhi'so ivn/ men of action ? Do ny one promiHe tlicy And simply becniise nn, and so beginning;, !ie chih! sensation uiid ; not reason ; not re- eot, and yon cripple chiefly or alone, nnd he reaches manhood , touch his hfarl, as ?n, of gfKKl deeds, of tarry skies, and tlie lem. p-ecn fields, and t takes rfx)t in them, r him — more to pve mr's talk, or a day's 1 fields, than in years led intellectual culti- irs of life, the child nents ond hcart-rv]- irc needed to ex[)lnin ifant knows that at itellect is re(|uired to veriest child under- By this goodness and Id lead the yonnfl; on e the way for harder ctnal exertion. liut icipttted ; no pnvwing ' 1 reason, to study, to I th tough logic, over- I her abstractifins ; all jor, or long for, is a ipment, buoyancy of ? as the si)ring-time, dive to every gentle ■motions quick to nn- i of goodness, os the 3 development, and a ]oraI and intellectual EXTENT or THE UNITED 8TATK8. 39 Parents may think wp talk at rnnary to its health, and the best is oral instruction, exemplified by objects which strike the senses. " It is perhaps unnecessary to oild that, at this period of iife, 8|)ccial attention should be giveii, both by parents and teachers, to the physical development of the child. Pure air and free exercise are indispensable, and when- ever either of 'hem is withheld, the conse- quences will be certain to extend themselves over the whole life. The seeds of protracted and ho|)c1es3 suffering have, in innumerable instonces, been 8t)wn in the constitution of the child sim))Iy through ignorance of this great fundamental physical law ; and the time has come when the united voices of these innocent victims sbouhl ascend, ' trumpet-tongucd,' to tha ears of every parent and every teacher in the land — 'Give us free air, and wholesome exercise ; leave to develop our expanding en- ergies in occordance with the law of our be- ing ; and full scope for the elastic and bound- ing impulses of our young blood !' " Amen, say we ! This is the true doctrine : not because it is the man's, or ours, but be- cause all nature tells us it is true. First at- tend to the physical. That must be sound. Then look to the heart. Touch that, by all means. Go out into the fields, over beds of flowers, tell useful stories, and do whatever may impress the senses rightly, or move the heart truly, in the child ; and if he live, in nine cases out of ten, he will be a maw, and a true one to boot ! EXTENT OF THE UNITED STATES. The present confederacy of the ITnifed States of North America contoins a larger area of cultivated land and hospitable climate than any country that has previously existed. Ancient ond mcslern emiiirts sink I'nto insig- nificonce when - ((niparcd with it. The Uni- ted StatesofAuM rica contain 2„100,n00 square miles, over half a million more than Kurojic, if we except Kussio. Their greatest length is .'5,000 miles, their greatest breadth 1,700 miles. They have a frontier line of 10,000 miles, a seacoast of .'JO.OOO miles, and an inland lake (;oost of 1,".'00 miles. The rivers in the United States are the lar- gest in the worid. The Missouri is .3,()00 miles in length, or more thon twice as long as the Danube. The Ohio is GOO miles longer thon the Rhine. The Hudson, entirely within a single state, is navigable 120 miles" above its mouth further than the Thames. The state of Virginia has an area of 70,000 stpiare miles, and is about u.ie third larger than England ; the state of Ohio 40,000 souare miles, or one fourth more than the whole of Scotlond ; and the state of Maine upward of .30,000 8<|uare miles, or nearly as large as Ire- land, which ho8 about 8,000.000 of [wople. The hariior of the city of New York is the Atlantic outlet of a river, canal, and lake nav- igation of about 3,000 miles, or the distance from Euroj)e to America. From Augusta, in the state of Maine, to New Orleans, in the state of Louisiana, the distance is 1,800 miles, or 200 more than from London to Constantinople, Togo from Lon- ilon to Constantinojjle, you cross the entire continent of Europe, and through most of its principal kingdoms. The great proportion of the whole extent of the territory of the United States is unculti- vated. The population of the country, as rap- idly as it increases, would not occupy all the public domain in a cycle of five hundred years ; and yet, in spite of this startling fact, there are ainong us men claiming to be statesmen, who wish to anticipate the future, and occupy by conquest, at the exnense of bhxxl and treasure, that territory which is as certain to fall into our possession by the natural course of events, as that the sun's rising marks the beginning of (lay. So vast, indeed, is the territory of the United States already, that it takes no ordinary mind to comprehend its extent, and few indeed can calculatQ its resources ; and the most com- prehensive intellect can not, when wanned by a hiph-wrought imagination, give a faint glim- mering of the future wealth and jMJwer to be accorded to the American people — not by the force of arms, bvt simply by the pursuit of the arts of peace. :l i . .«'«il ''lira. M rn .■% 40 TRAVELS IN TUB HOLY LAND. TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND.-NO. 1. It was on Sunday, March 28th, that we were to enter the Holy Land. I had been too much engrossed by the objects which interested us at every step in Egypt and Arabia, to think much of this beforehand ; but when 1 came forth from our tent in the dawn of that mom- inj{, there was enough of novelty in the scene around me to make me feel that we were about to enter upon a new country, and a new set of interests ; and I became eager to know at what hour we were to pass the boundary which separated the desert from the Holy Land — the home of the old faith from that of the new. We had followed the track of Mo- ses from the spot where his nwther placed his bulrush cradle to that on which he died ; for to the east we should this morning see the mountains overhanging the Dead Sea ; and among them the summit of Nebo, whence he lookeil abroad over the Land ot Promise; and now we were to enter upon the country of Jesus — certain to walk in his vir^ foot- steps, and see what he s'-.w — perhaps this very day. I never remember feeling such an interest in every wild-lh»wer, in the outlines of all the hills, and the track of all the waicr- courses. We had left the stony desert behind us, and were encamped in a nook of the hills where the ground was green, and weeds grew thick. There was grass under my bed in the tent ; and when I came out this morning, the dew was heary on the daisies and buttercups and flowering mallows which grew abundant* Oriental Mode of Travellingf. ^_ "^d^ u w ly on the turf. After breakfast, while the camels were loading, I walked in the early sunnhine on a strip of sand overlooking the valley, impressing on my memory evtry fea- ^ture of the landiscape, and impatient of the 'rising ground to the north, w' '. prevailed my seemg where we were gouig. it was about ten o'clock when we parsed the boundary. It was impossible to tell the exact moment; but within a mile or two we felt that we were indeed in the native Iniid of Christ, and prob- ably on his venr track. He might have been here. His relati( .s lived at Hebron; and during the first thirty years of his life he had probably visited them, after meeting them at the feasts at Jerusalem. He might have walked ov.r the hills which swelled higher and higher as we advanced, and rested beside some of the wells which yawned beside our track. At any rate, the trees and flowers which we saw must have been familiar to his eyes ; the thorny acacia which began here to rise and spread from the stunted shrub of the desert to the dimensions of a tree ; the scarlet anemone — with us a precious garden flower — which here strewed the ground for acres round ; the cyclamen, which pushed forth it» ^ravelling. tufts of white arid lilac blossoms from under many a stone a'td bush ; and the pojijiy, mal- low, hemlo'-k, and wild outs, which grew as thickly as in luiy Eii;!;li!(; of pure country here was small in those days, compared with what it is now. The towns must have been more thick- ly set here than in any country I ever was in. f*atches and masses of ruins showed them- selves on every hand, so near each other as to indicate thit land must have been peo- pled to a degree now nowhere known. The first ploughing we had seen for many weeks was a striking sight to us ; a mere scratching of the soil at the foot of the hills : but close by lay a heap of building stones, the remains 'f 1 ^ ■'Tf' An Enetnipmeat of a town or village. Presently we saw a rude plough, with a single camel at work; and at hand was a long foundation wall, laid in a far-distant century. On a height further "ti, were the remains of a large ancient build- ing, with two broken pillars standing, marking the site of the Aroer of Scripture. Then, though there were water-courses about every hill, wells began to abound ; substantial, deep wells, built with a rim with holes in it, to re- ceive the covering stone ; such wells as tell of a settlement beside them. We stop])ed early this day — partly because it was Sunday, and partly because our Arab guards, who know notning of our Sunday, found a con- venient place among the hills, somewhat shel- tered from the cold wind ; and here, a very few miles from the boundary, the gentlemen of the party discovered that we had sat down in the midst of what was once a large town, though the place appeared a mere stony tract, like many that we had passed. In the morn- ing early, I went out to see for myself, and was astonished at the extent of the ruins which I should not have-obscrveil while mere- ly riding by. I could trace the lines of foun- dation walls for half a mile ; and building fitones, overgrown with grass, lay in hil- locks for a considerable distance round. The many caverns in the limestone rocks, now used as beds for the goats, were found to be the vaults of large buildings now gone to ruin. In a few minutes, we traced three temples, or other such buildings, by their overthrown pil- lars. Our eyes being now opened, we this day saw more and more remains, till we were convinced that all the way from the boundary to Hebron, the land was tliick-set witli towns, and swanning with inhabitants in the days of its glory — the days when the Teacher went up an(l down in it, meditating the changes which must make it what I have seen it now. Its hills and streams, its skies and flowers, are to-day what they were before his eyes : but where he saw towns on every height, and vil- lages in every nook, there is now hardly left one stone upon another. A group of black Bedouin tents on a hillside, a camel or two browsing here, and a flock of gouts there, are all that relieve the utter solitude where there was then an innumerable throng of men. As we advanced, on the Monday, the soil became ridier, and field was joined to field, so that we began to look for the landmarks which are here used instead of fences, to bound field property. We entered upon thickets and shrubberies, where white roses, the cyclamen, convolvulus, and fragrant herbs, abounded. Soon after noon, a new scene ojiened upon us. On our left hann lay a wide, deeji basin among the hills, full of ^ ineyards and olive-grounds, where the stones from the soil were built up into fences, and in almost every plot rose a garden-house. This was a sure sign that we were near a town ; and tus we rounded the hill on our right, we came in sight of the t\vo emi- '^i^Mh!mm„w^:i^^mmh&mMm^M^&^^^^^ by their overthrowTj pil- g now opened, we this )re remains, till we were ! way from the boundary If 08 thick-set with towns, [habitants in the days of vhen the Teacher went meditating the changes vhat I have seen it now. Its skies and flowers, are re before his eyes : but in every height, and vil- there is now hardly left ler. A group of black lillside. a camel or two flock of gouts there, are ter solitude where there ible throng of men. n the Monday, the soil lid was joined to field, go for the landmarks which of fences, to bound field red upon thickets and lite roses, the cyclamen, grant herbs, ahirarided, V scene ojiened upon us. wide, dee]> l)asin among ^ards and olive-grounds, 1 the soil were built up Imost every plot rose a was a sure sign that we d as we rounded the hill in sight of the two emi- TRAVEL8 IN THE HOLY LAND. 43 Hebron. nences on which Hebron is built. There stood the town where Joliii the Baptist was bom ; and here were the sceues which he must mnny a time have talked of with his cousin, in their boyish meetings at Jerusalem for the feasts. Hebron, too, is only twenty miles from Bethlehem ; only twenty-six from Jeru- salem ; and in those days, when a large amount of yearly travelling was a solemn re- ligious duty incumbent upon every family, it is scarcely possible bui. that relatives must have often visited each other, and that Jesus and his parents must have come to Hebron. The cave of Machpeluh is there ; and the burial-place of Abraham and his family was a sacred locality, and an object of pilgrimage to Jews of all ages. As we inquired for it, and walked round the enclosure, which the Mohammedans now permit no Christian to en- ter, I could not but think who might have been before us in the same quest. As I silt on a tomb in the Turkish cemetery the next moniing, watchin'j the preparations for our departure, I almost dreaded the inter- eat which every day would now bring, after the calm and (juiet weeks Wf! had spent in the desert. Our encampment looked much the same as it had done every morning for a month past ; the Arab servants busy iu taking down and packing the tents, and a noisy quarrel go- ing on in the midst— (this niorniug about a pistol having been stolen from one of the tents:) — and the diHerciiers were only that there were spectators standing by, ond that our camels had given place to horses and asses. But instead of the rocks and sands of the desert, Hebron was before my eyes, ond the hills where Abraham si)read his flocks, and the spot where he and his family lay buried. And before night, I should see the j)lace where Da\id wus born, and lived his shepherd life, and where Jesus was born. We had only twenty miles to travel this day to Bethlehem, bu"^ it was quite enough, for we were ea^er about every old tree, and well, and hill-top. The shrubs grew finer, and the wild flowers niorc abundant, the whole way ; though the hills of Judah were wild and stony in jiarts, ond no longer fit for pasturing such flocks as covered them when Abraham lived among them, or wben the Hebrews drove in theit cattle from the desert, or when David in his boyhood amused himself with sliaging smooth stones frotn the brook while his liither's sheep were feeding on the slopes. Wo sat down to rest and eat under the shailo of a rock and a spreading tree; and for the hundrcdlh time smce we left Egypt it occurred to mc how lit- Bethlehem. tie we can enter into the meaning of David when, in his divine songs, he speaks of the shade of rocks, and of the beauty of " a tree planted by rivers of water," and all such cool images. When one has been slowly pacing on, hour after hour, over glaring sands or heat- ed rocks, under a sun which makes every bit of leather or metal, and even one's outer clothing, feel scorching hot, and oppressing one's very breathing, the sight of a patch of dark shade is welcome beyond belief: and when one has dismounted and felt the coolness of the rocky wall am*, of the ground beneath it. and gathered the fresh weeda which cluster in its crevices, phrase after phrase of the Psalms and jirophecies comes over one's mind, with a life and freshness as sweet as the blos- soms in one's lap. Our first sight of Bethlehem was beautiftil. We came upon it suddenly, just when the yellow sunset light was richest. Bethlehem was on the rising ground on our right, massive- looking (as all the villages of Palestine are) and shadowy, as the last sun-rays passed over it to gild the western hills, and another village which there lay high up, embosomed in fig and olivo orchards. The valley between, out of which we were rising, lay in shadow. Be- fore us, perched on a lofty ridge, which rose between us and Jerusalem, was the convent of St. Elia tho convent. I cnrcd little for the ujipcr i)rirt, with its chai)els for Oreek, Latin, and Anne- iiiau worship : and not much more for the caverns underground, where the monks be- lieve that Joseph and Mary remained while there was no room for them in the inn. If the town was too full to receive them while the people were collected for the census, it i.s hardly probable that they would rc])air to an umlerground cave : but in this cave mass was going on this mominc; ; and striking was the elfect, ofter coming down from the sunshine, of the crowded cavern, with its yellow lichts and their smoke, and the echoes of the chant- ing. We returned when the service was over, and saw the star in the marble iloor which marks, as the friars believe, the precise spot where Jesus was born, and the marble slab which is laid in the place of the inangcr. When I saw, throughout the country, how the Arabs now use the caves of the hills to bed their goats and cattle, this belief of the friars apjiearcd less absurd than it would with us ; but still, it is so improbable that the jirecise sjMjt of these transactions (whose im))ortance was not known till afterward) should have been marked and remembered, that I felt little interested in them in comparison with the lantl- scape out.-ide, about whose leading features there could be no mistake. From the bottom of the garden, we over- looked the great valley which expanded to the northeast ; am. one enclosure there — a green spot now occupied by olive-trees — was point- ed out to us iU the field where the shepherds were abiding on the. night when Christ was bom. Behind it, to the east, lay range behind range of hills, stretching off to the north ; and among these, we knew, lay the Dead Sea, and the Jordan, where it pours its waters into that lifeless and melancholy lake. As we left tho convent and village, and descended the rocky road, with terraced vineyards and olive groves on either hand, wo knew that Jnsejjh atul Mary must have come by this v/ay from Jerusalem when summoned to the census: and this was more to us than all the sights the friars had shown us in their zeal and kindness. We looked in at the tomb of Rachel, and at •■yArrf^gt A' Tomb of Ilaobel. the convent of Elias; but our eyes and thoughts were bent toward Jerusalem. I re- member, however, that here I first saw the waters of the Dead Sea, lying blue in a little gap between the hills. As soon as I had mounted my ass before the convent of Elias I saw from our ridge some buildings on the rising ground which now showed itself before us. I was not immedi- ately certain what they wore : but the news soon spread among us. That rising ground was Zion, and those buildings belonged to Je- rusalem, though they stdod outside the wall m ■ ilio Nativity. iiul, wo knew that Jns«;i)h i-e coino l)y this v/ny fVdiii iiintiiiined to the census: I) us thiiii ull tho sights tho ill their zeal an<1 kindness, le tomb of Rachel, and at ''1 '" lUfiiii. ' lb of Racbel. Clias; but our eyes and t toward Jerusalem. I re- , that here I first saw the d Sea, lying blue in a little ills. mounted my ass before the [ saw from our ridge some rising ground •which tiuw re us. I was not iinmedi- ; they were : but the news g us. That rising ground 36 buildings belonged to Je- ley 8t6od outside the wall PLAN FOR EMANCIPATION. 47 Immediately after, the walled city itself came into vi( w, lying along the hills. Most of the jiurty were disujipointed. I was not — |)artly beeiiiise I kn(!W tli;it we were ai)|)roaLhing it from the least favorable side, and jiurtly be- cause my expectations had much underrated the size and grandeur of the city. What we now saw was a line of white walls on a hill- side, with some s(|uare buildings and small white domes rising within. I walked the rest of the way. On our right were hills, the summit of one of whi(;h was Acoldema, l.'ought by the])ricsts with the money whicli the wretched .Indus returned to them when he found too late what he had done in his attcmjit to force his Lord to assert his claim to a temporal sovereignty. On our right was tho plain of Rephaim. When we arrivv'd at the brow of the high ground we were on, wo were taken by surprise liy the graiidenr of the scene. Zion now opjieared worthy of her nainc, and of her placi; in the hymns of David, and in history. We were now overlooking the valley ot Gihon, more commonly kno^\^l i)y the name of Himnom. From its depth, and its precipitous rocks on our side, I slunild call it a ravine. This deep 'Udl contains tho Lower Pool, now dry ; and the a(|ueduet from Solomon's Pools is seen crossing it obVuinely. Its opposite side is Zi- on, rising very steeply, still terraced for til- lage in some parts, and crowned by the city wall. To the right, swei^ping away from the rivinc of Gihon, is the deep and grand vall(>y of Jehosliajihat, clustered with rocks, relieved by trees, and heading the eye round to the slope of Olivet, which, however, is best seen from the other side of the city. The black dcnnc of the to.tib of David was the next ob- ject ; and after that, the most consjiicuoiLs roof in the city — the great dome of the 3Iosque of Omar, which occupies the site of Solomon's Temple. By this time, there was silence among us. I walked behind our cavalcade, as it slowly ascended tho beautiful rocky way — glad of the silence pennitted by each to all ; for it was not possible at the moment — nor will it ever be jiossible — to speak of the impressions of that hour. We entered bj'the Jalfa gate ; and every echo of our horses' feet in the nar- row, stony, picturcs(pie streets, told upon our hearts as we said to ourselvi>s that we were taking up out rest in Jerusalem. The liberty of a jieople consists in being governed l>y laws whicli the_y have made them- selves, under whatsoever uinn it be of gov- ernment ; the liberty of a private man in be- ing master of his nvm time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of liis country. PLAN FOR EMANCIPATION. TiiKRK has been so much said andptiblislied on the subject of Emancijiation, both at tho north and south, that it hos becouic somewhat dirticult to discuss it without awaking party interests and feelings. The best cause, as is svell known, may be ruined by injudicious ad- vocates. The jieople of the south, however, can not but approve of candor and truth ; and we feel confident that they will be jjleased with the Hon. David Sf:ARs' safe and liberal ))n)positions on the subject of gradual enianci- piilion, advocating, as they most clearly do, not only a full indemnity ior evcrj slave lib- erated, but presenting no imiiossibility or se- rious difficulty of execution. Before presenting onr readers with the sub- stance of Mr. Skars' Plan for Emancipation, w(! insert the following petition in its sup|)ort, which, we understand, is now in circulation for signatures in this and several other of the states : — " To the Senate and House of Rcprcscn.' talivcs of the United Slates of America : — The ])t;lition of the undersigned, citizens of , res j)ect fully asks, that you will con- siller the expediency of endeavoring to etl'ect such a change in the constitution or laws, as shall ajipropriate the public lands of the na- tion in aid of the extinction of slavery through- out the Union. " A.lso, the expediency of oppointing com- niissioneis, whose duty it sliull be — under such conditions as congress may determine — to purchase and etnunci])atc slaves — being fe- male children bom prior to 1850. And, also, of making annual ajipropriations by law for the jinrpose, on a pledge of said public lands, with a (h'cluratory act, that from and after Ir^oO, there shall be no hereditary siavery. 13ut that on and after that date, everj' child born within the United States of America, their jurisdiction and territories, shall be born free.'' In mie of Mr. Sears' late communications on the subject of Emancijiution, \yhen giving statistical facts in relation to it, he says: — " The last census of the United States gave 420,000 as the nursiber of femah; slaves under ton \ears of aye, and 300,000 as the number of female slaves betwten the ages of ten and twenty years. Tlici plan projiosed contem- plates the purchase of one, or both of these classes, at o price to be agreed on. It is esti- mated that at their present average value, they could be bought and emancii)attil at a cost much less than the ex[)ense of the last war of the nation with Great Britain, and for less than the probable cost of the present war on Mexico." In relation to the commissioners to be ap- ft n ■MM ■am i&yi'"" 48 PLAN FOR EMANCIPATION, A suinmnry nf the plnn is as fellows: — 1. Connrcss In apprnvriale. the prncrrds of the sales of public Lands to the extinction of slavery. 2. Commissioners to be appointed by Con- jijrcss to negotiate with the legislatures of the slave states, for the purchase of female slaves uti(l( r ten years of age, ami also, if necessa- ry, female slaves unlan ])rop(>sed. May nothing cloiirl the prospect of the nation's coming to a speedy, united, and htjil'V deeision. A late number of the "Norfolk (Va.) Her- ald" contains the following n-marks of its can- did and truth-speaking editor : — " Let those who arc lurcil by the prospect of gain, or who really believe that they can better their condition by emigrating to the new states, follow ;hL'r bent — anil take tlieir slaves along with the .. The vacuum may cause a momentary weakness, but it will be only to recruit with twi>fold vigor. The place ot ev- ery slave will in time be filled with hardy, industrious, tax-paying, musket-bearing free- men, of the right stuff to people a free state, which Virginia is destined to be one of these days, and the sooner (consistently with rea- son) the better for her o%on good." This is cheering intelligence from snch a quarter. The people of western Virginia — whose prolific mountains and valleys encour- age the growth of the spirit of freedom — have long wished to be rid of slavery. But the peoj)le of southern Virginia, more unfortunate in location and association, have hitherto suc- cessfully repressed this western sentiment. If, as would appear from this paragraph from the " Norfolk Herald," the true character of slavery, as a ruinous absorbent, is beginning to be felt, there is indeed hope of Virginia. That it would be " better for her" if slave- ry were abolished in Virginia, there can be no reasonable doubt. Slavery is, and always has been, an incubus upon the prosperity of that state. Her originally rich soil has become barren and fruitless under the exhausting and im provident tillage of slave-labor. The once- prolific plantations are bankrupting their pro- prietors. To thousands, the unpleasant alter- native is presented of abject poverty at home, or emigration to the new soil at the west. Large numbers have chosen the latter; and their places have been filled by farmers from the north. They, schooled in the science of agriculture, and inun.'d to toil, can, with free labor, restore what slavery has exhausted. Under their judicious application of this free labor, Virginia would soon be lifted from her present condition ; and when this truth shall be felt and acted upon, the " Flerald's" pre- diction will become matter of history. With these and a mnltitudeof similar facts before them, will not the intelligent and re- flecting people of the slaveholding states take into serious and candid consideration the plan devised and recommended by Mr. Skars for the removal of the originating and operative causes which, as long as they continue to ex- ist, can not, according to the apprehensions of W«" invitR the nttrntiim ■nihWr. men to the c(insi I wish not to excite an angry feelin.2, or to wound the self-love of any one, my object is Vftire ; but if the iieople of these states, would ealmly hear what may be said, nnd C(K)11y jud,ne of what they hear, we should all, in time, come to the saine eonclusion. Sup- pose this conclusion arrived Qt. then Mary- land, Vir^iinia, ond Kentucky, would unite in applying to Congress for the very compro- mise which the jietition oilers. They wotild o„j, ' We have long borne the burden of sla- very, and now wish to get rid of it. We can- not do so without your assistance. We may, it is true, sell a part of our property m South Carolina and other states, where the soil, from its nature, and the climate, from its unheulthi- ness, can only be inhabited by the African, but we have been at a great expense in rear- ing the infant to the child, and in feeding the old man in his age. You must, therefore, gront us something as an equivalent, and wc will meet in the spirit of comproinise, to root from our land an acknowledged evil. Put us, we pray you, in a position to reap the full advantages oH'ered to us by Heaven, in a • What a. volume is contained in llio Cillowing con- tstut ; and yet lliia is only a lair Blatemcnt of Uie dif- fcrcucc bctwoou a slave and a free state. rBKKSOir.— MASSACIIl'SKTTSSLAVK SOIL— S'TH CABOLINA Him tcrritorv... 7,500 «J minas territory.. .25.000 «q m. "op inm?.. :. . . . .8IW.0(K) Fop. in 1H45 COO.OW Pr.\d.H't« in do .$124,735,304 Product, in do...«J.'3,U(j6,"'lw I'roduQtion to rach individusl 688 Cost of .State Gov- ernment, !fM4 ... .•.147,e.'il Members of Congress 7 t^cliolHrs in Com- mon Scliools 12520 In Academics 4.32fi In (killeges Wtl Wliites over 20, who cim can not rcua jr «..ie. -.-.^o not read or write.. . .20,615 Slaves NONE Slave, not perm ttcd to read or write.. . .3.10.000 Still itiore striking does this contrast become if we comnaro Kontuoky ami Oliio— sister stales, alike m soil and climate, and divided only by a rivor, but as dissimilar in ontorimso and prospority as can lie im- acined. No powers of argument can reason down facts like tlieso, and already is their niflucnce at wot k in Virijinia, Kentucky, Maryland, and perhaps ntlier states. Coniiliation, as well as fimiaess, is now de- manded on the part of tlic north ; lirmness in an op- position to tlie extension of slavery, but a Kcnerous and conciliatory spirit in devising a method ol reliel for the states now involved iu it. healthy climate and n rich soil, nnd to this end liurchuse and make free the female infants of our slaves, and we will nhnlish hereditari/sfa- rrry fir ever. Kvery child born after 1950, shall be born free.' " "Nor is the supposition '^f such a union of opinion by any means chimerical. It is obviously for the interest of thest? three states to range themselves on the side of freedom, and if they should do so, the result is certain." " As events ripen, it is evident that no time should he lost in devising some conciliatory nieosure of compromise. Tiie great (juestim of slavery, thouah in a modilied form, has already licioii bnnight before Congress, never again to 7 In Academics 16 74G la Colleges 700 I'crson.i y us literally, and we hapten to sliout them liaek in eurnest. Men north of Washington, I'an not compre- hend why the doctrine should not be good south of it, and what the shivenian has preached the freeman is now determined to practise." " Had the educated and intidligent of the south, instead of rushing to their ruin in a voin struggle for personal power, been willing to have remained friends with the same class of the north, and jointly labored with them in the construction anil maintenance of a gov- ernment of laws founded upon reasonable and liberal principles, und unitedly opposed the intrigu(!s and management of viciinis and needy men, who have nothing to lose and ev- erything to gain, how much more huppy would have been our country, and how many bitter feelings wouUl have been spared to her best and bravest. " Qucm Dcus vult pcrdcrc, prius dcmcntaL" THE AGE OF PROGRESS. No man, we think, will deny that the state of society, which belongs to the present era, is distinguished above all others, bv the de- sire and the power to advance. To resist such progress, is not possible ; and, if possi- ble, would not be lawful ; since the resistance would be nothing less than the wilful rejection of benefits which God's providence has scat- tiTcd in our path. Look only to those benefits which the oldest may remember to have seen wrought in his own day ; and the commence- ment of some of which may have been wit- nessed, even by the youngest. Look, for in- stance, to the valuable discoveries made, wn may almost say daily, throughout the vost and various fields of natural science. Look to the new powers with which the telescope and microscope are invested, ond which ena- bles us — in a way more wonderful than any which man's imagination could ever have con- ceived possible — " to see a system in every star, a world in every atom." Look also to the spark of the electric telegraph, darting with lightning speed through hundredsof miles of space, and, as it darts, communicating thought from man to man. Behold the effects which have been produced by the single agen- cy of steam, and see what centuries of im- provejnent, in com|)nrison with the past, the last half century has comprised within itself. But whv need we go through the long cata- logue of wonders? If these be among the marvels of the present day, is there any hu- man being who can say that his own position mum 08 BOSTON COMMON. in tlu" worlil is not nnictcil liy lli'-in ? Not now to ciiuiiKTiitc all lilt' cliiinjii-n wliit h munt ariKP, w(! woulil umK him wlu-thfr tlirri' lie not a jioMiivf u'ldiliiin miu(1(> liiTfliy to tlie jicrio<«>riatrcl ik'iiHtircs mill >»> iiiuch of lilt) iiilmbitniitH of i»; westerly part 'lil, \s\uc\\ ever »iiiro, and now is uspiI for tliiit i)ur|MMf unci for til"' fci'iliiinof cattln." Tlii" wiix lb:' oriKiii of the fOMMON, wbichwo firnt find nlhidfdto in thr. town rrrordii, under iliiff of Oilobcr 10, ICi.'H, when ccrtiiiri corn- inifHiimcr.-t ii|i|ioinli'd to divide and dis|viKf- of the uiiofTn)iipd landx nro iristrurtnd to Icnvp out " "'irb ))oriions ii\ coinnion for the w.w of NfW- nifr.i, and tlin furtbcr bent ll( of tlm fowni-, :H ill tbcir bt-st dincrotions they shall think lit." So!ii<> further extract* from the tdwn rec- ords oi, this suliject mny be fouml intcrf^tins. In Miiy, \7'V.), we find nn ndniiriddo instiince of ihr " wb<'n-it-rainH-lct-it-riiin"-j)hilc»so|)hy, an (itlciniit huvinj; been mude to do soincthins with the marsh on the west side of the com- mon. " The selectmen Imvinj: viewed the miirsh at the l)ottom of the common, nnd not findiii',' 111 V material use that can be made of it," fee, ■■ lire of opinion that it is best to lye in the condition it now is." This conilition seem-f to bii%e been, for a piece of land, about 09 i)reciirious os that of some modi'm western cities, for we find nn account about thot time (.fanuary, l7t.»S)oftwoyotm5m('n, skatin;; "at the bottom of the common," who were drowned there from the breakinj; of the ice. In March, 173.3, it was "voted thot the row of trees olready planted on the common be to- ken core of t)y the selectmen, and that another row of trees i)e planted there at n suitable dis- tance ;" and " that o row of posts, with a rail on the top of them, be set up and continued throu^lh the common, from the buryini;-])lace to Colonel K^tche's fence, leavini; openings at the several xtreets and lonri." In 1739, it was " voted that posts and rails be set up from thd granary in Common street" (the site of the present Park-street church) " to Beacon street." We find subscciuently two propositions for disposinj? of parts of the common, one " to sell Fox hill on the common," a low, sandy mound, which h;is been levelled nnd used in filling up the abo\ c-mentioncd marsh; nnd one a peti- tion from a citizen for half an acre of land to be taken out of the common for a house-lot : but neither of them was acceded to. The ori2;inal purposes specified in the reser- vation of the common as a place for " a train- ing-field, and ihfc fcccling of cuttle," were long subserved by it. We hope that the planting of so many trees, which has rendered it unfit for the former purpose, virill preserve it from that use in future, as it has done in a great (lejpro latolv. Cntflo havfl been kept there within tlie NiHt fifteen or twenty years, nml the city iirdinimce that forbids this licurs diiM' as loteas 1833. Many Hostoniaiis will r<'col- lect nn anecdote in connexion with this case of the common, of an cxiicise of ])rivilege which woiiM hardly be tolerated ot the present time — and some of the older jiortion of thf com- munity may not have forgotten the spirit with which n venerable Indy, now deceased, n-ird to relate how she was unexpectedly called up- on to entertain, as the guests of hrr hilslmnd, whose mansion still overlooks the cojnmon. a large jiarfvof French oIKcers belonging to the cinint d'F.stainir's (leet, nnd how her energies arose with the emergencies of the occasion. " And whatdoyon think," would she say, " I did for the cream nnd milk to serve for n break- fast for such B party ? Wliy, I sent out my people with orders to milk oil the cows on the common, and told them if nnyborivil(';,'c wliirb 5(1 nt llic prfsciir ijinc r ]«irti(in of ihi' rdiii- r)Tf)ttt'n the Hpirit wiili , now (Icrciiscil, ihimI irxiH'ctcdly (■(ilicd iip- ucMts of Jicr hiislimid, rliK)k« the roiniiKiri, q HcfTH l)clonf,'iti;; to ilic utid how her ciht;;!!'* iriPS of tlio occii^ioi). s," would she siiy, *> I Ik to serve for n hrcnk- Why, I B<'nt out my Ik nil the cows on tlin if nnyhody n-kcd any ) tuke tlio bill to (iov- iVJDR in bcnuty pvpry !i Noiirce of ))ride and It i» spot endeared ■ Brwi- m, and n ilieine M\fs> •* with wliii'h we ur vnnity of hoiii'', Tt of Fnneuil hull m the of the rity, nnd will ervation the clause in forbids the council to GARA FALLS, ILE ROCK. ints that arrest the nf- • at Niflfjarn, there i** 1 with greater nwe, or to him the vastnes-i of s the one depicted in nterest of the view is the impending clitr, ince of beinc aliont to 30th it. A few year* ng part of it fell, nnd eep crack has widened area of the jOntform idinj; its fearful nppenr- ["inen crowd its broml wulkinc;, drawing, nnd confidence that rocks : will go on, probably, ) too many hnnnncrs" om! I « '(■r 56 VIEW OF NIAGARA, "WITHIN THE VEIL." The path leading behind the sheet of the " Horse-Shoe Fall," which is on the Canada side, runs close under the clitl'of Table Rock ; and, between the spray and the small rivulets that trickle over the sharp edge, or find their way out oF the numerous crexices on the face of the prcci|iice, it is as wet as the lawn blest with " perpetual rain" by the Witch of Atlas. A small shanty stands at the head of the stair- case, where a reading-room and repistrv are kept, and curious walking-sticks, cut at Niag- ara, niiuerals, spars, and stulled scori)ions, vended ; the i)n)])rietor also otTiciarinn; us guide under the falls. Parties are formed daily to visit this part oi' the falls, and "go behind the sl'eet." The mode of procedure is so inter- esting, that we will give an account of a visit to it : — The ladies were taken into a small apart- ment to change their dresses, jireparatorv to their descent ; and the giiide soon metaiiior- phi)se r PI (0 5 z •n < z ■i z ■0 « H ■,;i3. TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. A Street in Jernsalem. rilicalion. I st where the Temple itself must have stood, and planned how far the outer courts extended — the Court of the Gen- tiles, the Court of the Women, the Treasury, wh(!rc the chest stood on the right of the en- trance, and the right hand might give without the left hand knowing : and the place where the scribes sat to teach, and where Christ so taught in their Jealous presence as to make converts of those who were sent to apprehend him. 1 saw whereabouts the altar must have stood, and where arose, night and morning, for long centuries, the smoke of the sacrifices. I saw where the golden vine must have hung its clusters on the front of the Holy Place, and where, again, the innermost chamber must have been — the Holy of Holies, the dwelling- place of Jehovah, where none but the High Priest might enter, and he only once a year. These j)laces have been familiar to my mind's eye from my youth up ; — almost as familiar as my own house ; and now I looked at the very groimd they had occujiied, and the very scenery they had commanded, with an emo- tion that the ignorant or careless reader of the New Testament could hardly conceive of. And the review of time was hardly less in- teresting than that of place. Here, my thoughts were led back to the early days when David and Solomon chose the ground and lev- elled the summit of Mount Moriah, and be- gan the Temple of Jehovah. 1 could see the lavishing of Solomon's wealth upon the edi- fice, and the fall of its pomp under invaders who worsliipped the sun; and the rebuilding in the days of Nehemiah, when the citizens worked at the walls with arms in their girdles ; and in the full glory and security (as most of the Jews thought) of their Temple while they paid tribute to the Romans. O ! the proud Mohammedans before my eyes were very like the proud Jews, who mocked at the idea that their temple should be thrown down. I saw now the area where they stood in their pride, and where before a generation had passed away, no stone was left upon another, and the plough was brought to tear up the last re- mains of the foundations. Having witnessed this heart-breaking sight, the Jews were ban- ished from the city, and were not even per- mitted to see their Zion from afar oB". In the age of Constantine, they were allowed to a{>- proach so as to see the city from the sur- rounding hills ; — a mournful liberty, like that of permitting an exile to see his native shores from the sea, but never to land. At length, the Jews were allowed to purchase of the Roman soldiers leave to enter Jerusalem once a year — on the day when the city fell before Titus. And what to do ? How did thev spend that one day of the year? I, will tell; for I saw Fehovah. 1 could see the n's wealth upon the edi- its pomp under invaders 3 sun; and the rebuilding emiah, when the citizens with arms in their girdles ; and security (as most of r their Temple whilo they Romans. O ! the proud re my eyes were very like o mocked at the idea that be thrown down. I saw they stood in their pride, a generation had passed left upon another, and the t to tear up the last re- tions. Having witnessed sight, the Jews were ban- , and were not even per- (ion from afar oH'. In the they were allowed to ap- e the city from the sur- inournful liberty, like that le to see his native shores lever to land. At length, owed to purchase of the /e to enter Jerusalem once when the city fell before How did they spend that jT I, will tell; for I mw *4. 62 TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. t T linvc saiil how proud and prosperous ]tm. pd the Mos(|ue o*' Omar, with its in. try ancient wall was a dusty narrow space, rn- closed on the other side by the backs of moiJ- ern dwellings, if I remember right. This ant ii^nt wall, where the weeds are springi'.;? from the crevices of the stones, is the only purt remaining of the old temple wall ; and here 'he .Tews come every Fridiw to their Placf iif Wailing, as- it is calleil, to mourn ovi ; :hc; fidl of thr'j' t- p^ple, and ;;ray for its restoration, Whi'': i. ■ou'rast did iliese hum- bled peo|)le present ;i; ^'le i,: .ud ^^l)ham'n•■- dans within ! The vn.ia m wf 's ,uat.ed it, I'iio dust — snnie wailing al'iud,: M/nii: r<»pi!adng prayers with moving lips' .;' 1 olhftni ;i;xding them from books on tljeir k( e %i. A. it .v chil- dren were at play on tUc ground; mA somr aged men sat silent, tlicir heads drooped on their breasts. Severn) younger men were leaning against the wall — pressing their fore- heads against the stones, and resting their books on thc'r clasped huiids in the crevices. With sfime this wailing is no forrti : for I saw tears on their cl: -oks. I l.nged to know if any had hope in thoir hearts, that they or their children of anv generation should ;»a8s that wall, find should help to swell the cry, " Lift !i|> your heads, O ye gates, that the King of Glory may come in I" If they have any such hope, it may give some sweetness to this rite of humiliation. We had no such hope for them ; and it was with unspeakable sadness that I, for one, turned away from the thought of ihe jiride and tyranny within those walls, and the der^olRtioi; without, carrying with me a deep-felt lesion on the strength of human faith, and the weakness of the tie of brother- hood. Alas ! all sf ?n7. weak alike. Look at the three great places of prayer in the Holy City ! Here are the i^f ohavimedans eager to kill any Jew cr Christian wh(> may enter the Mostjue of Omar. There are the Christians ready to kill any Mohammedan -it Jew who may enter the church of the Holy Se])ulchre. And here are the Jews pleading against their ene- mies : " Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem, who said, r'lze it, raze it, even to the foundation thereof. O, daughter of Babylon that art to be destj-oyed, happy shall he be thatrewardeth thee at tiiou hast served us. Happy shall he be that tnkeih and dashcth thy little ones against the stoni'.s I" Such are the things done and said in the iihme of Religion ! In connexion with what h"} wm nl ready related by Miss Martinea; concr-iiiri; the Mo8(iue of Omar, we hero '^it \>Iui;e n more particular description, with an .. .igraving drawn from n. sketch made on 'he 'ipot by F. Cathkrwood, Es<|,, who spent scveru! years in the Holy Land It.r the purpis" of obtain- ing views of the vari(»;n places Uirit have be- come haiioAvi (1 to the Chri-tian world. This sijleidi.' building occupies the site of (lie anciei •. temple erected by .SoVimon on " Mount Morisdi, where the Lord oppenr;>d unto David hi i fnthc in tb ' piacc that David Lft.i prepared in liie tlirashitJg-tloor of Oninri," or Araunah, "the J>bu'Lt '." (I Kni;.'s. vi., with 2 Chron., iii. 1) L was ere< :> d by the calif Omar, and by :,5ie .Mi^slems i.j oputed to lie next in sanctity to the temple at Mecca. When Jerusalem was taken by the crusaders, it was converted into a Christian church ; and when they finolly abundoned the city, the victorious sultan Saladin caused the whole building to be washed with rosewater, by way of purification, before he would enter it. The Mosque, which is i'ic finest piece of Saracenic architecture in f.iistcnce, is a reg- ular octagon, each side beiii;^ seventy feet in width ; it is entered by four spacious diKirs facing the cardinal points, the Rab el Garb on' the west, Bab nebbe Daoud, or on innlter hithrrtodi-enied for ever dark, have hail, nulwiihstanding, the inosf; hearty symimthy with men of thought, and have struggled arduously, enduring sarrit'ees with stern determination, octuateil by the love of truth, and filled with anxiety for th'; regen- eration of their feilow-men. The most simjile dnniestic utensil has caused intense tlniught in many minds before it could be wro\ight into its ))resent state, in- significant as it may now seem, after all the time and study that have been bestowed niHin it : but when we recollect how slowly im- liriivemcnts take olace, even in the present dav, considering llie amount of intellect ap- l)lieil, one can hardly be ave the maxims which indnarehs found so convenient for improper iiurjioses. This was to lie our iilorv. and until the jireseiit war, we were resjieete'd <'verywhere us a ])eo|ile who, intent on the arts of pence, and distin- ijuished by the universality of education, lili- ertv, and competence, would not seek the bat- tle." nor shun it when it came. The laboring men, or " produein0,000. The interest on nine ti'Uths of this sum at r> per cent., is alxmt $337,000,000. In the next thirty years the workiiiL'-men of CMiristeiidom will have to pav $10,000,000,000 for interest on this debt. Think how many days' work this is at 75 cents a day. This is not all that wo pay, for it does not include the " preparations" for war. For these, the workins-men of Christendom have pni.l durins the last 32 years, S',>l,r,00,00(1,00n. This exjiense is annually growing lienvi<'r in the United States, Britain, France, and many other countries. A writer, under the signa- ture of "A Workiug-Man of America," makes the following estimate : — » There are at least 2.500,000 able-bodied men in the standing armies of Christendom ; nil able-bodied men these, according to the surgeon's certificate, \^hich is never asked, when men are wanted merely to mow, plough, and sow, and make stone-wall, or for any vul- gar utilitarian purpose. Every common sol- dier is taken from the laboring class ; we fed sure of that. The popidation embracing the laboring classes of any country will not aver- age more than one "able-bodied man," ac- cording to the surgeon's military standard, to every 'ten individuals. Then it woiil.l take out all the able-bodied men from 25,000,000 of the yieople to raise the standing army of 2,500,000 which has been kept up in Chris- tendom ever since the day of Watcrioo. Now, instead of being drilled into mere machines for murder, suppose these 2,500,000 able- bodied men had been employed in some pro- ductive labor, even at the low rate of less than 25 cents a day, the hard-earned money paid by laboring men since 1815 in preparing for war, amounts, including interest, to ncnriy $39,400,000,000." The war appropriations of this country since the present war with Mexico began, are $80,873,062. The appropriations for the same obiects at ithe present session of Congress, should the I war continue during the present year, will ::m 66 probnMy excrrtl rather than fall short of fifty inillion^ of doUnrs. Those cstimntos «ay nothing of the valnf^ of the poor withdrawn frmn useful pursuilM, and the consi-'iucnt loss to tho country, nor state how manv of our peojjle and of the en- emy must yearly by these meai;'; nk to their graves. But the pen and not the sword must; soon become the weaicm of prugrc " i !i>i (airk- ers aro naininj; ground ; uiiTe' 'i .'• •»' tho U<\i- of public fo.or toward i i' '■ he RWord, is simewhat slar'.i.Ming la ila course ; and we be lieve there wi" soon bo a radical and porracient change in Jie feelings of man- kind, on this and kindred topics. Men of thought —men of gcni' —are now ltK)ked up to with reverence and love. The inventor of the simplest aid in the cause of human prog- ress will soon t)c regarilfd as one of the ben- efactors of niinkind. What progress, however, can a people make in the cnnso of peace and humanity, so long as th d:x:trine3 ot Christianity are repre- sented as noliolding, or rather justifying war and revengi' .' The fruits of such teachings can ea'tily I'e conceived. We can not be tin- genuin d^scendents of the pilgrim fathers or "I la'tiiy 1' n ■ d-^sc Willia, a I'cnn, for their spirit and conduct had no share in the formation of these scnthncnts, at least as understood and practised by many at the present day. But let us hope, that with the progress of time, the increasing in- telligence of the oge, and the growing venera- tion for that sublime and heavenly doctrine which teaches us to "forgive our enemicM, persecutors, and slanderers," and v > pray that their "hearts may be tmned ;" in accordance with that religion which was^vento establish " peace on earth, and good-will toward man," these sentiments will soou 1 "3 among the things that arc past ; and that in this country, and throughout the Christian world, at least, the sentiment ( . the heart :iay be mo'e in uni.'-.i n with the language of the lips : " Forf "ve us our trespas^c■^<, as we forgive those who tres- pass against us." When we shall utter this prayer with sincerity of h ' and ftf, up to the principles of Christianity . s well as pn ■ fess them, wars, duels, and other evils, will 1 banished from the world, and forgiveness oi injuries be regarded as more diq^iiB< 1 and no- ble than murder and revenge. Sklf-love is a principle in human nature of such extensive energy, and the interest of each individual is, in general, 84-) closely con- nected with that of the community, that thfj philosophers were almost excusable, who fai cied that all our concern for the public mig^ be resdlved into a concern for our own happi ness and preservation. WOMAN. lit oil the exciting scenes of liff, women is the moHt -^nsitive. If they be joyous, she is the firni I. mile; if they be sorrowful, she is the first to %veep. Wficn a company hove assembled, when all is unbroken silence, and the ni'-n seem not '» know what to say, nor how to say it, her animated tongue is the first to relieve the embinrassiiii'iii, enliven the scene, and f-i all other tongues in motion. Whatever may be the ceremony, she is the first to enter into the spirit of tlio occasion. In the moment of danger she is the most con- scious, vet the most self-possessed, while she most skilfully parries the impending blow. In love, she is tno most ardent, yet the most mmlest. .*■'■' . njostic trials of her household, ' ; iS arc the hf -t and '^:epept pangs ; yet she is the most patient under them. In the afllic- tions of others, her warmer heart is the first to sympathize, while her kinder hand is first extended to bless, to solace, and to save. However evil association may sonii'times per- vert her nature, these traits arc her instinctive, primeval virtues, which, while t! v elicit the profound respect of man, claim for her his sympathy ond prompt assistance, uiider all the trying circumstances of life, whether he happen to be a brother, a neighbor, or a stran- ger. The Americans are noted for their civility to the ladies, obove the jii'ojile of all other nations; yet more kindness would be stil better, and more just as well u s more natural. Woman is the first to befrici i uuil the last to desert. Like Mory, "she is last at the cross and first at the grave." The greater n man' sfortunes, the deeper lis disgrace, t' more ue is forsaken by the world, the closer she clings to him, even mf)re eager to shf re his sorrows than 1 'oys. Though his path lead through flower y j lains of ple;.^ure, or the shadowy vale of sorrow, yet to the very brink of the grave is she found close by his si(' and though barren and dreary be their ji neyof life, she gathers af the goes the f w isolated fln vers that grow by the wn-. with which she tries to comfort him, a> THUUOU HER HEART BE BREAKING, CHEKIH HIM WITH HER SMILES. As the meteor shi? i brighter wi r the increasing darkness, so linr benign spirit sheds its brightest li. tre upon his darkest hours. Wlstn luan's path in life is hcset v h troij s on over\ hand — when his spint is bori: wn to the earth — when n, o else wi'l lee' ■> cries, and he is ' rat to taint by the wo vhen life is a bur ien, and relief can no ' be found but in "ath — ^thei we.uiin flies to f s rescue, and witb ''at sweetest balm IMAN. scenes of life, womp.n is If they be joyoua, she is tlicy be sorrowful, she ig When a company hove is unbroken eilcncts und ) know what to say, nor ! mated tongne is the first lurassiiirnl, cnlivm the ither tongues in motion. ;ht' ceremony, she is the e spirit of tiio occasion, .nger she is the most con- self-possessed, while she I till) impending Mow, In )st ardent, yet the most c trials of her household, \ ''cepest pangs ; yet she ndcr tnem. In the afflic- warmer heart is the first 3 her kinder liiind is first to solace, and to save, ution may 8t)nit'tinie8 per- 3 traits ore her instinctive, lich, while tlMV flicit the man, claim for her his npt assistoncc, u:ider all mces of life, whether he ,er, a neighbor, or a stron • ins ore notoil for their , above the people of oil more kindness would be ire just as well us more St to befrici i u.tA the last ary, " she is last at the ! grave." The greater n le deeper lisdisp-ocp, t' by til ' world, the closer ven mi>re eager to shrre 'oys. Though his puth ■> j Inirn of jilci ,ure, or t sorrow, yet to the very is she found close by his jTen and dreary be their gathers of ihe goes the I thot grow by the wn<-. ies to comfort him, a>- T BE BRF.AKINO, CHEKK s MILES. As the meteor the increasing darkness, sheds its brightest li *re urs. th in life is beset >" h hand — when iiis spin; -^ irth — when ni d else w lie is ■ n\t to taint by tl. ■ a bui en, and relief run ut in ath — thi i w i.r- id will. 'It sweetest balm 8TEUBKNVILLE, OHIO. eTi for a wounded spirit-with her words of con solotion, she r.vivcs the courage that is nl'n., to falter, scmuIics the heart that is reody m break, and, as o blessed convoy, bv her smile and sonK. l«ads him gently andsaf.-ly thronth oil the bleak deserts of life. When man lo-'ka back unon the troubled sea of life— wlien He beholds its mountain surges ubcmt to overwhelm hini-and when, as he starts forward, he sees the Jordan of Death lying before him— when he is obout to sink down in despair and die, woman comes OS his r his es-cape ! As th« I'ly is borne down beneath the wa- ters bv tlic rapid current, and yet rises again to adorr: the surface of the stream— as the rose is crushed to the eorth. and yet rises Btroin with an clastic spring, to gladden with its bea-:ty the .^e of him who had humbled it— *J woman, like the lily, is submerged be- neath the waves of the troubled waters ot life, vet her buoyant spirit rises again obove them-so woman, like the rose, is crnshed beneath the iron heel of the tyrant man (made a tyrant by the intoxicatiiij' draught), yet •he rises again to resume the uuticM f her houstiiold. as if nothing had happ, -to feed and clothe the man who hud robbed both her on.l h- -• helpless offspriii? of their own food and . .ent-daily to for;;ive his daily ci 168 and 10 kiss the hps that cursed her, anil press the hand that smote her ! Though she rise at early 'awn, and tml on till her midnight lamp goes > i, only for want of means to replenish it, slowly to cam what he so quickly spends, for that which n vards jjer i,^,,.. _not, as she had hoiied, wii a the coml> life, but with its worst miseries. Thou uh a broken heart, ond weeiiing /eg, at. i f tt> cross, she exclaims, " He knows i- vat he docs ! he is not him- ' self'" ^VTiile sli patiently drinks the cup of mh< he presents to her ii-^ very dregs, and thou-h he robs her of everything dear to life, she can not or will not believe him her enemy! If, >y dissipation, h' duce her to poverty and ubject want— wlu. r children are crying for bread, she forbears partake of the scanty repast, though sli > irve^her- •5elf, till she has appeased the h ni ,er of her famishing family. liowevr heart endin?hcr troubles, she patiently bea the a. wh her noble spirit forbears to cali ior iissisu^ Sh. not only binds up the wounds uer owu hi'useholi!, but wanders for into llie world to eeek other objects ot chanty. "ho foregoes her own comfort to promote the -ifort of others, and perils her own life to ue others— as did the Mexican woman, ,t dead on the battle-field in Mexico, as she irricd water between the two contending ar- mies, with which she moistened the parched lips of the wounded ond dying, not only of the Mexicans, but of the Americans also. Thus did the mercy of woman cope witli the cruelty of men. by striving to sooth the wounds of both portfes, while fresher wounds were yet being inflicted by both ! Woman- like, with the imparrial rympothv of true bc- nevolence— (}o ;. - nng population. In 1830 its population was 2,937 ; in 1840, ' The name of this place is one of the few names of foreign origin which we recognise with feel. :s of grateful pleosure. Itwosso named in \ mor of Boron Steuben, a most gal :jj WASHINaTON'iJ ftHaiDENCB IN NKW YOBK. 09 iiiiit uii.l ttlkifiit olHi-or (»f til r.'voliitumury iirmv. I'Vr.l.'rif Williiiiii, iir, OH 111! v,in m'nrrully ciiII.mI. Huniu Sti-ulicii. wiiH a ilisiliiKui^licil l'ru-*-*iuii, of hirtli iiml I'liiiiifiu'f llniliiiiKlit ciitillf liiin to till' lii;ilii"»t liouorH in liit <>« ii ciifiiitiy, wliicli lie aliuiidoiM'l, ii^ 'li'l Lulnv- <'lli', loll;;lit in lfn' riiiikt oltn iloin in Aim-r- i a. Ilr hull Ihmii all iiiil to ilif ^ri'iit l-'riil- , ri-'. whiTi' he <"oulil iioi but Icnrii tin immt (Aiirt miiitiirv ilisciplin'-, thu most iircnui- |ili~liiM| tiiodirof Imtti-ring down wiiUi* of ilenli unci l>lood. Tlif ^kill and ImrdilioiHl tlms ai-i|uircd wcrn of iMi'sliiiiiildf vului; to tiir Aini'rirua iinnv. SiimiIh'm, who liiid niodritly olli'ri'd liinisflf UM ri'iidv HI laki! uny |iositii)ii wIuti; lie could bi'st sfi VI! the ureiit cuiiMe of liuinun tVeedorn, was (It once upiioinleil ins|)iTtor-ji;enpral, with the rank of inajor-gcticral ; and i)it1iu|)« ho did riiori^ tliun any other man, duiinu the wholr of the eventful jieriod from 1777 to the elose of llu! war, to introduce a nyttem ot uniform military tuelics amoii;; the lirave and di^voted, but most raw and unilisr,i|^irnied men com|irisiug the army of the Revolution. Steu- ben fought at the 'battle of Monmouth, and comrnnmled the trenches at Yorktowii. lie was almost adored by the soldiery, such was his goiKluess of heart combined with his cour- teous and 8oldler-like manners. At the close of the war, a veteran wdio hud fou>;lit under him, went the distance of some leagues to aci|uainl the general of his recent state of im- ternity, and that he had named the child after his old commander. " And what do you cull the boy?" asked Steuben. " Wliy, Buron, to bo sure, \i)UT honor." Steuben found himself poor, as did all other jiatriots, ut the close of the war. Eventually, the state of New York granted him an exten- sive tract of land, and congress voted him a nsward of some thousands. Ho died upon a fann in the vicinity of New York, and was buried, according to his own orders, in his military cloak, in a nameless grave. WASHINGTON'S RESIDENCE IN NEW YORK. From the Recollections and Privote Me- moirs of the Life and Character of Wash- INOTON, by his adopted son, G. \V. P. Cus- TI3, Esq., we extract the following account of Washington's residence in Nt w York : — On the 30th of April, 1789, the constitu- tional govcrnm^t of the United iitate began, by the inauguration in the city of Ni York, of (leorge Wushingion as president of thu United State*. In theiheii limited extent and improvement of the eily, iheri' wiH some diHienlty in se- lectin^ a 'mansion lor the residi nee of llm chief nmuistralc, and a lionsehidd suitable to his rank and station. Osgood's house, ii man- sion of very miMlerat.i extent, silnuled in Clierry strec't, vas at length tixed u|ioii. There the president lieeame domieiled. His (lomesiii; family consisted of Mrs. Washing- ton, the two a'dopted children, Mr. Leiir us priucipul seeretary. Colonel Humphreys, with Slessrs. Ijewis and Nelson, secretaries, and Major Wm. Jackson, aid-de-cump. Persons visiting the house in Cherry street at this dnv will wonder how a luiildiiiL' »o smidl conl'd contain the many and mii;lity spirits that thronged its halls in olden (lays. Congress, enlniiet, all ])ublic functionaries, in the commencement of the government, were sideeted from the vefy elite of the niilion. Pure patriotism, commanding talent, eminent services, wi^re I he proud and inilisjiensable requisites for otHcial station in ihe lirst days of the republic. The first congress wus a most enlightened and dignitied body. In the senate were several of the members of the congress of 177(! and signers of the Declara- tion of Iridependcnci — Richard Henry Lee, who moved the Declaration, John Aduras, who seconded it, with Sherman, Morris, Cor- roll, Sec. The levees of the first president Vvcre at- tended by these illustrious patriots and states- men, and by many other of the patriots, statesmen, and soldiers, who could say of the Revolution, "magna pars fui ;" while tiiim- bers of foreigners and strangers of disthiction crowded to the scat of the general government, all anxious to witness the granil experiment that was to determine how much rational lib- erty mankind is cajjuble of enjoying, without said liberty degenerating into licentiousness. Mrs. Washhigton's drawing-rooms, on Fri- day nights, were attended by liie grace and beanty of New York. On one of these oc- casions an incident occurred which might have been attended by serious consequences. Ow- ing to the lowness of the ceiling in the draw- ing-room, he ostrich feathers in the head- dress of Miss M'lver, a belle of New York, took fire from the chandelier, to the no small alarm of the company. Major Jackson, oid- de-camp to the president, with great presence of mind and equal gallantry, flew to the res- cue, and by clappinjc; the burning plumes be- tween his hands extinguished the llaraes, and the drawing-room wrent on as usual. Washington ])reserved flic habit, as well in public as "in private life, of rising at four o'clock and retiring to bed at nine. On Sat- J 70 WASHINGTON'S RESIDENCE IN NEW YOEK. urdaj-s he rested sotnewlmt from his Inbors, by cither riding into the country, attended by a groom, or ipiJihis family in his coach drawn by sis hortics. Fond of Iiorses, the stables of the president were always in the finest order, and his e(|uipage excellent both in taste and (juulity. Indeed, so long ago as the days of the vice- regal jourt of Lord Botetourt, at Williams- burg, in Virginia, wc find that there existed a rivalry between the equipages of Colonel Boyd, tt magistrate of the old regime, and Colonel Washington — the grays against the bays. Bishop, the celebrated body-servant of Braddouk, was the master of Washington's stables. And there were what was termed muslin horses in those old days. At cock- crow the stable-boys were at work ; at sun- rise Bishop stalked into the stables, a muslin handkerchief in his hand which he apjilied to the coats of the animals, and if the slightest stain was perceptible uj)on the muslin, up went the luckless wights of the stable-boys, and punishment was administered instanter; for to the veteran Bishop, bred amid the iron discipline of European armies, mercy for any- thing like a breach of duty was altogether out of the question. The president's stables in Philadelphia were under the directior of German John, and the grooming of the white chargers will rather surprise the modems. The night be- fore the horses were expected to be rode, tliev were covered entirely over with a paste of" which whiting was a component part ; then the animals were swathsd in body-cloths, and left to sleep on clean straw. In the morning the composition had become hard, it was well rubbed m, and carried and brushed, which process gave to the coats a beautiful, glossy, and satin-like appearance. The hoofs were then blacked and polished, the mouths washed, teeth i)ricked and cleaned ; and the leopard- skin housings being properly adjusted, the white chargers were led out for service. Such was the grooming of ancient times. There was but one theatre in New York in 1798 (in John street), and so small were its dimensions that the whole fabric might easily be placed on the stage of one of our modern theatres. Yet humble as was the edifice, it possessed an excellent company of actors and actiesses, including old Morris, who was the associate of Garrick, in the very outset of that great actor's career at Goodmanfields. The stage-boxes were api)i-opriated to the presi- dent and vice-president, and were each of them decorated with emblems, trophies, &c. On the play-bills were the words, " Vivat Re- puUfica.'' Washington often visited this the- atre, being much gratified by Wignell's per- formance of Daibtf ill the Poor Soldier. It was in the theatre 'n John street that the now national air of " Hail Columbia," then called the " President's March," was first jilayed. It was composed by a German mu- sician, named Fyles, the lca(W of the orches- tra, in compliment to the president. The na- tional air will ]u«t as long as the nation lasts, •while the meritorious composer has been long since forgotten. It was while residing in Cherry street that the president was attacked with a severe ill- ness, that requirerl a surgical operation. He was attended iiy the elder and the younger Drs. Bard. Tlie elder being somewhat doubt- ful of his nerves, gave the knife to his son, telling him to cut away — " deeper, deeper still ; don't be afraid ; you see how well he bears it." Great anxiety was felt in New York at this time, as the jiresident's case was considered extremely dangerous. Hajipily, the operation provetl successful, nnd the pa- tient's recovery removed all cause of alarm. During the illness a chain was stretched across the street, and the sidewalks laid with straw. Soon after his recovci-y, the president set out on a tour through the New England states. The president's mansion was so limited in accommodation that three of the secretaries were compelled to occupy one room — Hum- phreys, Lewis, and Nelson. Hum])hreys, au'-(fc-camp to the commander-in-chief at Yorktown, -vt^as a most estimable man, and at the same time a jioet. About this period ho was composing his " Widow of Malabar.'' Lewis and Nelson, both young men, were content, after the labors of the day, to enjoy a good night's repose. But this was often denied them; for Humphreys when in the vein, would rise from his bed at any hour, ond with stentorian voices, recite his verses. The young men, roused from their slumbers, anil rubbing their eyes, beheld a great burly figure " en chemise," striding across the floor, reciting with emphasis jiartiailar passages of his poem, and calling on his room-mafes for their approbation. Having in this way for a considerable time " murdered the sleep" of his associates, Hi iphreys, at length wearied by his exertions, would sink upon his pillow in a kind of dreamjr languor. So sadly were the young secretanes annoyed by the frequent outbursts of the poet's imagination, that it was remarked of them by their friends, that from 1789 to the end of tlieir lives, neither Robert Lewis nor Thomas Nelson were ever known to evince the slightest taste for poetry. The mansion in CIiciTy street proving so very incon^snient, induced the French am- bassador to give up his establishment — M'- Comb's new bouse m Br.iaiway — for the tc- comraodation of the piesident.' Ic wnj from ^U^ K. ?■ :n John street that the ' Hail Columbia," then nt's March," was fiist wsei] bv a Geiiunn mu- thc leailer of the orches- the |)resi(lent. Tiie na- long as the nation lasts, composer has been long 1,5; in Cherry street that uked with a severe ill- iirn;icnl ojieration. He elder and the yonnger • being somewhat doubt- •e the knife to his son, way — " deeper, deejier ; you see how well he dety was felt in New the i>resident's case was dangerous. Hajipily, successful, and the pa- .•ed all cause of alarm, chain was stretched the sidewalks laid with recovei-y, the president :iugh the New England nsion was so limited in hree of the secretaries :upy one room — Hum- Nelson. Humphreys, commander-in-chief at ; estimable man, and at About this period ho Widow of Malabar.'' loth young men, were rs of the day, to enjoy . But this was often mphreys when in the his bed at any hour, lices, recite his verses, •d from their slumbers, 3, beheld a great burly ;riding across the floor, 1 particular passages of on his room-mafes for aving in this way for a urdered the sleep" of reys, at length wearied J sink upon his pillow [ignor. So sadly were nnoyed by the frequent 3 imagination, that it 1 by their friends, that of tlieir lives, neither m'lS Nelson were ever glitest taste for poetry. leiTy street proving so iuced the French am- is establishment — M'- Br.iaiway — for the tc- iesident.^ It vvaj from tf^* this house that Washington in 1790 took his final departure from New York. It was al- ways his habit to endeavor, as much as possi- ble, to avoid the manifestations of affection and gratitude that met him everywhere. He strove in vain ; he was closely watched and the people would have their way. He wished to have slijjped off' unobserved from New York, and thus steal a march upon his old companions in arms. But there were too many of the deoi glorious old veterans of the Revolution at that time of day in and near New York to render such au escape even possible. The baggage had all been packed up ; the horses, carriages, and ser\ants ordered to be over the ferry in Paulus Hook by daybreak, and nothing was wanting for dejjarture but the dawn. The lights were yet burning, when the president came into the room where his family were assembled, evidently much pleased in the belief that all was right, when, immediately under the windows, the band of tlie artillery struck up Washington's March. " There," he exclaimed, " its all over ; we are found out. Well, well, they must have their own way." New York soon after appeared as if taken by stonn ; troops and persons of all descriptions, hurrying down Broadway toward the place of embarkation, all anxious to take a last look on him whom so many could never expect to see again. The embarkation was delayed until all com- plimentary arrangements were completed. The president, after taking leave of many dear and cherished friends, and many an f)ld companion in nnns, stepped into the barge that was to convey him from New Y'ork for ever. The coxswain gave the word, " Let fall ;'| the sjiray from I'uo oars sparkled in the morning sunbeam ; the bowsman shoved off" from the pier, and the barge swun;' round to the tide; Washington rose, "ncoveiod in the stern, to bid adieu to the masses assembled on the shore : he waved his hat, and in a voice tremulous from emotion, pronounced farewell. It may be supposed that Major Beuman, who commanded the artillery on the interesting oc- casion, who was first captain of Lamb's regi- ment, and a favorite officer of the war of the Revolution, would, when about to poy his last resi)ccts to his beloved commander, load his i)ieces with something more than mere blank cartridges. But all ! the thunders of tlie caimon were completely hushed when Che mighty shout of the peoi)le arose that respond- ed to the farewell of Washington. Pure from the heart it came ; right up to heaven it went, to call down blessings upon the Father of his country. The barge had scarcely gained the middle of the Hudson when the trumpets were heart! at Paulus Hook, where the govemjr and tho chivalry of New Jersey were in waiting, to welcome the chief to those well- remembered shores. Escorts of cavalry relieved each other throughout the whole route, up to the Pennsylvania line; every village and every hamlet turned out its population to greet with cordial welcome the man ujjon whom all eyes were fixed, and in whom all hearts rejoiced. What must have been the recollections that crowded on the mind of Washington during that triumphant progress? Newark, New Brunswick, Princeton, Trenton ! What a con- trast between the glorious burst of sunshine that now illuminated and made glad every- thing around these memorable spots, with the gloomy and desolate remembrance of 1776 ! Then his country's champion, with the wreck of a shattered host, he was flying before a victorious and well-appointed foe, while all around him was shrouded in the darkness of desjiair ; now in his glorious progress over the self-same route, his firm footste]) presses upon the soil of an infant empire, reposing in the joys of peace, independence, and happi- nes.s. Among the many who swelled his tri- umph, the most endeared to the heart of the chief were the old associates of his toils, his fortunes, and his fame. Many of the revolu- tionary veterans were living "in 1790, and by their presence gave a dignified tone and char- acter to all public assemblages : and when you saw a peculiarly fine-looking soldier in those old days, and would ask, "To what corps of the American anny did you belong ?" drawing himself up to his "full height, with a martial air, and back of the hand thrown up to his forehead, the veteran would reply: " Life-Guard, your honor." And proud and hai)py were these veterans in again beholding their own gcMxl Lady Washington. Greatly was she beloved in the amy. Her many intercessions with the chiefs, for the (lardon of ortenders; her kind- ness to the sick and wounded ; all of which caused her usual arrival in camp to be hailed as an evei:t that would serve to dissipate the gloom of the winter-tjuarters. Arrived at the line, tlie New Jersey escort was relieved by the cavalry of Pennsylvania, and when near to Philadelphia the president was met by Governor MilHin and a brilliant cortege of officprs, and escorted by a sipiad- ron of horse to the city. C .isjiicuous among the governor's suite, as well for his niartia! bearing as for the manly beauty of his jier- son, was General Walter Stewart, a son of Erin, and a gallant and distinguished otlicer of the Peiinsylvania line. To Stewart as to Cadwallader, Washington was most warmly attached ; indeed, those officers wee among the very choicest of the contributions of i' ''' I i ^'mb h Pennsylvania to the anny anil cause of inde- jjcmlence. MilHin, small in stature, was ac- tive, alert, "every inell a soldier." He was a ])atriot of frreat influence in Pennsylvania in the "times tliat tried men's souls," and nobly did he exert that inlluiMice in raisini; troops, with which to reinforce the wreck of the griuid anny at the close of the campaign of 177R. Arrived within the city, the crowur examination, and by which we are ena- r stru(;ture ; and it is 3led to rise — to climb ' our own etlbrts and upon a lofty simimit, pon the wonders by I, and behold the ovi- ower, and glory, who •eauty and pcrteetion. Oct your attention to he universe is b\iilt, II involved in solving it is surrounded. if there be laws gov- r all these bodies, and jB^^'iPj. '*'mij ' 74 ASTRONOMY. \ if it is possible to ascertain the nature of these laws ? Are they to be comprehended by the human mind ? or are they beyond the reach of the intellect which has been given us ? I answer, they are not : they are within our reach, and we are permitted to understand them ; and in understanding them we are per- mitted to extend onward and onward in our caieerof examination and discovery. The first law to which I direct your atten- tion is the law of motion. If a body be lo- cated in space, and receive a sinjjle impulse, it will move on for ever in a right line, and always maintain its onward career, never turning to the right nor left, and never relax- ing its speed. Now, is this a necessary law of matter 7 I answer, it is. There is no necessity why this law, in preference to any other, shoulil have been adopted. It is the wisdom of God which has assigned this law to motion. But why should not this motion be retarded and relax, and decline, and gradu- ally die away ? Such laws govern other mo- tions, and why not in this case ? — Again, we have the law of gravity ; and what is this ? It is a law which tells us that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle with a force which varies in propor- tion to the mass, and decreasing in a certain ratio with the distance. Tliis is o second law. — Another law is this : Every revolving body, in sweeping about from its centre, has a tendency to fly from that centre with a cer- tain force called centrifugal force. Now, combining these three toi^'ther, we have all the laws which govern the movements and guide the motions of the heavenly bodies. These are simple and easily understood. Then, with these laws at our command, let us examine the structure of our own system — for this shall be our type and model — and, passing on, let us essay to reach, if pos.5ible, the limits of the imiverse. Now, then, to view our system, let us move to the sun and locate ourselves on that immense orb Wliat do we find ? A vast globe, 880,000 . .iles in diameter. He.'e we tix our point of observa- tion. At the distance of 95,000,000 miles, far as the eye can reach, there is a ball reflecting back the light thrown upon it froTn its great centre. That ball receives an \n<"> ' se under the action of that force by w. '• . .'t would move fr)r ever in a right line, bi.t tiie attractive power of the sun seizes it, and lo I a planet, bathed in the light of its controlling luminary, is sweeping in its orbit, onward and onward in its swift career, until it comes back to the point whence it started. Has its velocity been diminished ? has it lost any of its mo- tion 1 No. "With the same velocity with which it set out it reaches its starting-point, end onward moves again. Now, suppose we were, if it were possible, to fix golden rings in the path of this moving body, of such diameter that it might pass through with not a solitary hair's-brcadtn to spare. Such is the beauty and perfection of its motion that from century to century, and from age to age, this solitary planet would swing in its orbit around the sun, passing uni- formly and invariably through these golden rings with no shadow of variation from its first motion. But stay : while this planet is revolving in the distance, we find another small globe, with dim and diminishetl light, commencing its movement, subordinate and controlled by the movement of its central body — the planet. There is a satellite — the moon — added to the first body, the two sweep- int; onward, but alas! the accuracy of the original motion of the planet is destroyed for ever. It no longer sweeps through these golden rings. As the moon passes in between it and the sun, it adds its force of attraction to that of the sun, and the earth is drawn in- ward, no longer j)asbing through the points it once so unerringly visited. As the moon swings round on the opposite side, it draws the earth farther from its orI)it ; and thus we find oscillations backward and forwarl —per- turbations and disturbances — which it would seem no human intellect can grasp or u?iravel. But this has been done. Go back 3,000 years — stand upon that mighty watch-tower, the temple of Belus in old Babylon — and look out. The sun is sinking in eclipse, and great is the dismay of the terror-stric'ien inhabit- ants. We have the fact and circumstances recorded. But how shall we prove that the record is correct ? The astronomer unravels the devious movements of the sun, the earth, and the mot)n, through the whole pcniod of 3,000 years — with the powjr of intellect he goes backward through the cycles of thirty king centuries — and announces that at such an hi ur on such a day — as the Chaldean has written — that eclipse did take place. Such is the character of the knowledge we have attained with reference to the movements of these bodies. But we must go still farther. I announced to you that the law of gravita- tion declaies that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle. Now then, add to the system we have im- agined, two interior primary ])lanets. Mercury and Venus — the planet Mars on the outside — and the seven asteroids now revolving be- tween the planets Marj and Jupiter : add to these Jupiter with his four moons. Saturn with his n 'ghty orb of 79,000 miles diameter — add his moons and rings also : go still far- ther till you reach Uranus — add his moons : step out still farther to the utjnost boundaries now known of our ftolar system, and bring in ■e, if it were possible, I path of this moving that it might pass ary hoir's-brcndtn to ity and perfection of itury to century, and olitary planet would the sun, passing uni- hrough these golden jf variation from its : while this planet is ce. we find another and diminished liglit, snt, subordinate and ;ment of its central ;re is a satellite — the body, the two swecp- the accuracy of the lanet is destroyed for veeps through these wn passes in between ts force of attraction he earth is drawn in- through the points it ited. As the moon posite side, it draws 8 orbit ; and thus we •d and forivarl — per- ices — which it would can grasp or uriravel. me. Go back 3,000 mighty watch-tower, Id Babylon — and look ; in eclipse, and great rror-stric\en inhabit- ct and circumstances ill we prove that the I astronomer unravels of the sun, the earth, the whole period of powjr of intellect he the cycles of thirty Dunces that at such an IS the Chaldean has i take jilace. of the knowledge we ence to the movements e must go still farther. Lt the law of gravita- particle of matter in every other particle. system we have im- lary ])lanets. Mercury Mars on the outside — i now revolving be- i and Jupiter : add to four moons. Saturn 79,000 miles diameter ings also : go still far- inus — add his moons : the utmost boundaries r system, and bring in ASTRONOMY. 75 that wonderful, mysierious body known as the planet Neptune, whose history is as yet more wonderl'ul and strange than any other belonging to our system : adil all these together — let each one of these bodies act upon every other, and then, is it possiljle for the human mind to grasp the laws which hold all these bodies in their orbits ? Can it roll back the tide of Time, and tell you that a thousand years ago, such and such were the configura- tions of all these planets and satellites ? and not only thut, but draw aside the veil from the future and show a tliousand years hence, that such and such shall be tlirir configura- tions ? With all their disturbing influences, can such truth be eliminated, and the whole rendered clear, perfect, harmonious, and beautiful ? Yes : even this has been accom- plished. But we have not exhausted the problem of our system oven yet. I have only taken into account the planets and satellites belonging ro our own system. There are other mystericms bodies, wliich seem not to obey the laws that govern these muveiuenls. While the planets are circular hi their orbits and the satellites nearly the same, we find dim, mysterious bodies, wandering through the uttermost re- gions of space — we see them C(;ming closer and closer, and as they approach our system, they fling out their mighty banners, wing their lightning flight around the sun and speed away to the remotest limits of vacuity. These eccentric bodies — these comets — belong to our solar system, and fonn a part and jiar- cel of the whole : each and every one of these must be taken into account in resolving the mighty problem of the universe. And they are not to be counted by tens, nor hundreds, nor thousands : their number is not less than millions. Neither do they revolve in the same plane on which the planets roll, nor in the same direction. While all the planets sweep around the great centre regularly and harmoniously, we find the comets pouring in from every possible point, forming everj' pos- sible angle, and passing out in every possible direction. And yet the perturbations occa- sioned by these wandering bodies in their long journeys of thousands of years have to be made out. At this very time, the whole astronomical world is intensely interested in watching the return of one of these wonderful bodies. Two hundred and ninety years ago, it visited our system for a short space. The ;■'•'< hun- dred and ninety years — its co\rn>rL"ei.' period — are now nearly expired, and i.t ti^i ) ti .iie every telescope on our globe is dirftec' <.vii,hthe ut- most intensity of anxiety t>' tc.tn particular region in space wher'; it is believed the stran- ger will first make his appearance. Think, 6 that we should be able to trace the invisible, unknown movement of these almost s))iritual bodies, and be able to announce their return with a degree of accuracy thot astonishes every intellect ! And yet tliis is the fact. But to what distances do these bodies pen- e'rate into space ? When we remrniber that the periodic time of the most distunr of our planets (Xeptune, 2,700.000,000 mil.-s from the sun) is but 1G7 years, aiul that the p.'riod of some of these comets is not short of three or four thousand years, how iinmense must lie the distance to which they recede from our sun ! Now, retaining in your minds the fact I have stated — that every particle of matter ot- tracts every other jiartiele — and that if these comets, in sweeping out to this immen^^e dis- tance, fall under the influence of other suns, they are gone from us, never to revisit our system again: is it possible, then, that there are other systems which do not interfere with ours ond with each other ? Is it passible that these forever-wandering bodies do not come under the influence of other suns ? Is space so boundh'ss — is the universe so limited — that there is room for more than one of these mighty systems ? To this point I would ask your attention. You see thus a partial de- velopment of the scale upon which the solar system was created, and you can begin to ap- preciate the nature of the problem of the uni- verse which has been so far solved, that man might attain a knowledge of the system with which he is, in his physical nature, so inti- mately associate!!. But there are other objects than planets and comets filling the heavens. Look out upon the millions of stars in beautiful constellations. Behold these magnificent groups in every point of the heavens. Trace out that mysterious and curiously-wrought band, stretching from one end of t'ho sky to the other — the Milky Way. Give aid to the delighted eye, and through the space-annihilating tehiscope see millions and millions of suns flashing upon the dazzled sight at once. Surely these bodies are clustered near together ? They are not separated from each other by the same amount of space as we appear to be separated from them? Let us examine this for a moment", the astronomer, in order to find his distance from any heavenly body, ascertains precisely the point in the lieavcns where that body is lo- cated. For instance : should we desire to ascertain the distance of the moon from the earth, we should locate one astronomer at a given point on the earth with his telescope directed to the moon : another astronomer we station at a place far distant from the first, with bis line of sight also on the moon at tke ISfi'' ^ 76 ASTRONOMY. |i same instant of time. The angle of the ] visual ray with a pcriK'nclicular tn the earth's J centre is" caroinlly noti-d by each observer; and when this angle is found (the liase of i their triangle being their distance apart) it ; is easy to tell at what distance, from the ' earth the protracted sides would meet — and i that point of junction will be the centre of ; the trioon. Now let us try the same with regard to the fixed stars and see whether any results are ascertained. We locate two observers 8,000 miles njiart (one on each side of the earih) ; and from these two points they direct their visual rays to yonder distant orb: l)ut a'as! the lines "arc ab"solutely parallel. The fstion- omer is foiled — he gains no point wdiosc dis- tance he can estimate. AVhat now is to he done ? He makes the earth itself a grand travelling observatory, and at the extremity of the diameter of the earth's orbit, at the end of six long months, when the earth shall have swung itself halfway round the sun, at the immense distance of 200,000,000 miles he again Sf.ids up his visual ray. And now he has a base of 200,000,000 rniles— surely the angle at the vertex of this immense triangle will reveal the distance ! But, alas ! again it is almost insensible ; and if it be sensible at all, it can not be so ^reat as to bring the near- est of the stars nearer than sixtv billions ' (60,000,000,000,000) of miles! With this immense space intervening is there danger that the comets shall rush against our neigh- boring suns, even in their long journeys of thousands of years ? I think not. — And this is another illustration of the immense scale upon which the universe is built. Now, hav- ing reached outward to the nearest of these objects, let us stand and contemplate the scene by which we are surrounded. Yonder shines Orion, with his broad and beautiful belt, and yonder is the Northern Bear. These groups — so familiar to us — are always delight- ful to the eye. Go with me until we reach that beautiful ir in vhe northern heavens — Lyra. From it point look out, and what do you behold? Is there ony change ? Surely there is a new heavens ! Yonder is old Ori- on's belt, gleaming with the same beautiful stars and arranged in precisely the same order as when we left our native earth. All the change is no more than would be made by a change of position wth your neighbor upon your own planet. And having gaineil this unit of measure, we are enabled to go on to the next, till finally in' one unbroken succession we fmd them ex- tending outward, and outward, and outward, till a long-extended series reaches in some di- rections even to five hundred successive ob- jects. Then sweep round with this immense line as a radius. All the vast limits in the entire circuit of its range are tilled with suns and svstems that bum, and roll, »nd shine, as do our own. Having gone thus far, it would seem that we are on the uttenriost limits of s])ace ; nnil that the human mind, after attaining to thut point, must there rest its weary wings. Not so. We are barely at the outskirts of one littl(! island of the universe — a small compass, condensed and united so that if we were even in tlie extreme limits which we can reach with our aide possible : I could not stretch my imagination to their ut- most limits. But now jiut your eye to this instrument, and tidl me what breaks in upon your vision 1 Ah ! I see a most beautiful sight — millions of diamond points sjirinklinn; the blue vauli of the heavens. How strange is that other object ! Shall I tell you what object it is ? Go with me throng' \e regions of space — onward — onward. I seti it expand- ing, increasing — 1 see diamond points in it lighting up with brilliancy and splendor. As we near the object we find it expanding till it fills the whole visible universe itself, for it is nothing less than a universe of stars. Where are we now ? Look backward, and what is behind ? Is our own sun visible in the mighty galaxy? Yes. I see nothing but a dim stain — a nebulous haze. Yet that is the mighty system we have left behind. This is but one, and it is the nearest of all of them. Go ofT in another direction and you will bring up not only tens and hundreds, but thousands of these bright and beautiful star- islands of the universe, strewed throughout the vast regions of space. It is the business of the astronomer to study not only his own system, but to contemplate the millions of stars, and to go still farther out to those mysterious nebulous objects with which the heavens are filled, and tell if, in the long lapse of ages, some mighty change may not be working in these curious end wonderful objects. All the vast limits in tlio riiiigo arfi lillcil with suns um, anil roll, »nd shine, as us far, it would soem that itnost limits of spare ; oncl ind. after attainini; ro that f'st its weary wines. Not ly at the outskirts of one uiiverse — a small compass, ed so that if wc were even nits whieh we can reach sion, we should ffrasp the ( and systems, ns it were, itself.' When we have pr limits, and applied the scope, exiiloring space be- jects comini; up from the burstinjr upon the sipht, \vitli wonder and astonish- •fm<;h the mighty telescope e objects in tin- dead hour len earth's th(»usanils of ; hearts were quieted in e rapid furious pulse of bu- tt the arms of sleep. There ny own mind could nf)t take it seemed irrpossible : I my imagination to their ut- now ])ut your eye to this dl me what breaks in upon 1 ! I see a most beautiful diamond points sprinklinp; he heavens. How strange 3t ! Shall I tell you what svithme throug' 'he regions —onward. I sec it expand- see diamond points in it rilliancy and splendor. As ; we find it expanding till it visible universe itself, for than a universe of stars. iw ? Look backward, and Is our own sun visible in :y? Yes. I see nothing I nebulous haze. Yet that stem we have left behind, nd it is the nearest of all of another direction and you anly tens and hundreds, but e bright and beautiful star- i verse, strewed throughout f space. ;s of the astronomer to study system, but to contemplate rs, and to go still farther out ous nebulous objects with ns are filled, and tell if, in ages, some mighty change king in these curious end THE DEAP SEA. 77 The Dead Sea. THE DEAD SEA. The result of the exploration of this an- cient locality, by the United States navy offi- cers who have just sailed for the Mediterra- nean, will be looked for with deep interest by the civilized world. The federal govenimenf. have authorized this reconnoissance for the purpose of solving geographical problems and to elucidate ancient story. The Dead sea is to be t. ;\'i "t^ i y Ameri- can sailors — that sea of marvt'< \T\ich, after engulfing the giiilty "cities of I'ue plain" — has been ever since invested, to the imagina- tion, with awful and supernatural character. " A pestilential vapor, it has been said, rises continually from its waters ; fish can not live in, nor birds fly over them; iron will not sink in them, nor have they ever been navigated by ship cr bark." Such slight examination as occasional trav- ellers of more recent days have given to this bitter sea, has dispijlled many of these fables ; but still these deep dark waters are a mystery to the world. They have been found to con- tain — as accounting for their extraordinary specific gravity, which led to the tale that iron would not sink in them — 41 parts in a hundred of salt; a much greatt^r proportion than that of the sea, and deiived from entire rocks of this mineral continually dissolving on the southern shore. Bitumen also rises in abundance from the bottom and floats on the surface — and hence these waters acquire a consistency which enables them to bear up bodies that would sink m other waters. The Rev. Doctor Durbin, late president of Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, gives the following illustration of the density of these waters : — '• I waded in carefully, to test the oft- repeated statements of the great specific grav- ity of the fluid, and repeated the experiment several times : the uniform result was, that when the waters rose above my armpits but not over my shoulders, my body was balanced, and I could not touch the bottom, but my feet tended strongly to rise and my head to de- sc id. When I turned on my back and drew U|. my knees, so as to balance the body on the surface. ^ Hy as still as a knot of wood my head, knees, ant' half of my feet out o.' ihe wft-^r; and so loicg as I was perfectly still, I fl Kite.' ^n this ; osition. These experiments satlsr- '1 .'le of its great specific gravity." Du ■:\ ^ DuiMn adds that his hair was mat- ted wltV th..^ bitumen, which, on being pressed by the fingers, covered them with a sticky sub.stance. Josephus, in his fourth book of the wars of the Jews, relates that the waters of the Dead sea support on the surface whatever is thrown into the lake, and confirms the relation by the fact that Vespasian, 'to convince himself of the truth of 'his assertion, ordered several persons with their hands and legs tied, to be thrown into the lake, and that not one of them sunk. But it is less to verify or refute problems such as these that :.n exploration of the Dead sea by competent and scientific observers is desired, than to ascertain its actual relation to 1 > **.j|, m '^'•^ 78 BOOKS, THKia PUBLICATION AND CIRCULATION. the wntors of the Moditen-nnean, frnin which it is (listiint not more than between 30 and 40 miles ; yet the level of the Dead scu is snid to l)e some hundreds of feet below that of the Mediterranean. Into the Dead sea the river Jordan dis- charges and loses itself. Descending iVom the sea of Tiberius, which is in fact a shallow outspreading in the fashion of a lake, of the river — some CO miles in a winding cotirse, the Jordiin disai)i)ears in this deep and bitter os- phaltic sea, which is about 24 miles in length from north to south, and not more, accordiii": to modern travellers, than six or seven in breadth. It is comparatively shallow at its southern extremity, but its general depth is reputed to be unfatliinnable. Its western shore, on the side of Arabia, or Moab, is one prodigious black perpendiculor wall, in which there is not a summit or the smallest peak ; its eastern or Indian shore is of limestone and sandy dill's of varied and fantastic fonns. All, however, but the mere external ap- pearances of this dismal sea and its dreary shores, is matter of conjecture and uncertainty; and hence the greater stimulus to investigation. The United States store ship Supply, being bound to the Mediterranean with stores, is to be employed under Lieut. Lynch, as her com- mander, with Lieut. Dale, who will be mure specially charged with the scientific recon- noissances. To effect the exploration of the Dead sea, they will land at Acre, and thence direct their operations across the ancient plains of .Tericho, and the point of research, carefully levelling the intermediate route, in order to determine, first of all the relative altitude between the two seas. Amply provided with instruments — having metal boats of light construction, and all the means and appliances for survey- ing and sounding— we may justly anticipate from this expedition accurate infommtion on points heretofore wholly conjectural, yet in- vested with deep interest. It is one of the peculiarities of the watiT of the Dead sea, that, although so dense and bituminous, it is exceedingly translucent. It is somewhat singular that a goveniment of the now world should be the first to explore and verify the facts, concerning a region so intimately connected with the common faith of Christendom and the witness of one of the most awful i)enaltie9 of transgression under the Mosaic dispensation ; and we can not but hope from this expedition what will gratify natural and intelligent curiosity, while confii-m- ing the original record of the Bible. The evil propensities of the wand,;ring hordes who travers* the deserts in that vicinity furnish the greatest obstacles to complete success. BOOKS: THEIR PUBLICATI0.> AND CIRCULATION. It is a very common thing to hear of the evils of pernicious reading, of how it enervates the rmnd, or how it depraves the prinriplis. ] The complaints are doubtless just. These ' books could not be read, and these evils would be sjiared the world, if one did not write, niid another did not jjrint, and onotherdid not sell, and another did not eirculute them. Are those, then, without whoso agency the mis- } chief could not ensue, to b.i held nnioeent in aHi)r .»»■ ■. _ BOOKS, THEIR I'UBLICATION AND CIRCULATION. 79 perceive that there is an inconsistency, on in- cnmpleteness, in his moral princijiles of action. Perhaps this jierson is so conscious of th<' mis- : chievous ellt'cts of such books, ihiit In^ would not allow them iu tlu; hands of his cliildrcn, nor snller them to be seen on liis i)arlor-table. But if he thus knows the evils which they in- ihi-t, can it be right for him to be the »■— ut in (litlusing thein ? Such a jicrson dot i l.-'- ex- hiliit that consistency, that conipletetn ss of virtuous conduct, without which the Christian cliurucler can not be fully exhibited. Step into the store of this bookseller's neighbor, « druggist, and there, if a ])€rson asks for some arsenic, the ajmthecary begins to be anxious. He considers whether it is probable the buyer wants it for a ])roi)er ])arpose. If he does sell it, he cautions the buyer to keep it where others can not have access to it ; and before he delivers the packet legibly inscribes upon it — Poison. One of these men sells poison to the body, and the other poison to the mind. If the anxiety and caution of the druggist are right, the indilierence of the book- seller must be wrong. Add to which, that the druggist woulil not sell ars<;nic at all if it were not sometimes useful; but t« what readers can a vicious book be useful ? Suppose for a moment that no printer would commit such a book to his press, and that no bookseller would sidl it, the eonse(|uence would be that uine tciiths of these manuscripts would be thrown into the fire, or rather that they would never have been written. The inference is obvious ; and surely it is not need- ful again to enforce the consideration that al- though your refusal might not prevent \ici(nis books from being published, you are not therefore exempted from the obligation to re- fuse. A man must do his dutjs whether the elFects of his fidelity be such as he would (!(■- sire or not. Such purity of conduct might no doubt circumtcribe a man's business, and so does jiurity of conduct in some oth(>r pro- fessions: but if this be a sufficient excuse for assisting to demoralize the world, if profit be a justification of a departure from rectitude, it will be easy to defend the business of a jiickpcKket. We know that the principles of conduct which these remarks recommend lead to gra\'e practical consequences: we know that they lead to the conclusion that the business of a jirinter or bookseller, as it is ordinarily con- ducted, is not consistent with Christian up- rightness. A man may carry on a business in select works; and this, by some conscientious persfms, is really done. In the present state of the jiress, the uifficulty of obtaining a con- siderable business as a bookseller without cir- culating injurious works may frequently be great, and it is in consequence of this diffi- culty that we see so few booksellers among the (pjakers. The few wlio do conduct the business generally reside in large towns, where the demand for all books is so great that a per- son can procure a competent income though ho excludes the bad. He who is more studious to justify his con- duct than to act aright may say that if a per- son may sell no book that can injure another, he can scarcely sell any book. The answer is, that although there must be some difficulty in discrimination, thougli a bookseller can not always inform himself what the jirccise tv.n- deuey of a book is — yet there can be no diffi- culty in judging, respecting numberless books, that their tendency is butl. If we can not define the ])recise distinction between the goiKl and the evil, we can nevertheless per- ceive the evil when it has attained to a certain extent. He who can not distinguish day from twiliirht can distinguish it from night. The ease of tlio proprietors of common circulating libraries is yet more palpable ; because tlio majority of the books which they contain inflict injury upon their readers. How it huj)pens that persons of resjiectable charac- ter, and who join with others m lamenting th« frivolity, and worse than frivolity, of the age, nevertheless daily and hourly contribute to the mischief, without any apparent consciousness of inconsistency, it is ditlicult to explain. A person estaldishes, perhaps, one of these li- braries for the first time in a country town. He sup|)lies the younger and less busy part of its inhabitants w'th a source of moral in- jury from which h...ierto they had been ex- empt. The girl who till now possessed sober views of life, he teaches to dream of the ex- travagances cf love ; he familiarizes her ideas with intrigue and licentiousness ; destroys her disposition for rational j)ursuits; and prepares her, it may be, for a victim of debauchery. These evils, or such as these, he inflicts, not upon one or two, but upon as many as he can ; and yet this person lays his head ujion his pil- low, as if, in all this, he was not offending against virtue or against man ! The Biblk. — There is no other volume in the world which grows in interest Ijv repeated reading. We may study Bacon, feutler, or Boyle, but so soon as the argument is appre- ciated and the truth appropriated, the mind labors through another reading. But every passage in the New Testament is fruitful of varied suggestions, and the more spiritual the mind of the reader, the more fruitful of good is the passage read. Because one passage suggests others, and thus, like the links of' a chain, attains some new or some impressive views of God's character and of human duty. f^ll-r' 80 BO PEEP.— CUHIOai .1E8 Olf 8CI1C .CE. BO-PEEP. Oun cniuriivinK rrprcsents nne •)f thosf scctifs in (iiiinc^itic life which cosl sm littlo, but iro go * ir "> innki> iii) tho sum nj u wo- n-.nnV hai>|)ine-s. The iiicturiminfi iiiriui!.'fi- niiiil of lij;ht and shndu is '*i" miHt strikins artistic f'-uture of tho rroiip- As tlio "free knitter iu the sun" swiftly inn-rlacps tho glis- tPiii'ng ])ins, like liii''^ ot light, her thmights as s])ectlily weave niingletl drciiins of the tu- tiirn, ns the chiliUsh i^lee of the childri'ii comes to her ear. On one side the low sun shoots his hcnmsover sweet gardens and fresh fields, and ut last restsujwn the 5;rcen grape elusters, peeping between the leaves around the cot- tajio-dixir, and upon her clean olive cheek, transparent as the lucid skin of the berry. On the one hand it is the glow of outward na- ture that warms her heart ; on th*; other, the joy of maternal love, as she watcnes her chil- dren at play. CURIOSITIES OF SCIENCE. The followng interesting facts ore from an a 'i'."- i:rain, and thus we are enabled to take no -.fiMuest in tht objects which pass before ^ n ; oye. Now, when the eye is too convf. .Vf vin one kir.ii of glosses to correct the fault, atui >.f it be not convex enough, or if we wisl; '■> l(K)k at objects at diffiirent distonces, we use glasses of entirely anr)ther description. But as birds can not get spectacles. Provi- dence has given them a method of supplying the deficiency. They have the power of contracting the eye, of making it more convex, so as to sec the specks which float in the at- mosphere, and catch them for food ; and also of flattening the eye. to see a great distance, and observe whenever any vulture or other enemy is threatening to destroy them. In addition to this they have a film, or coating, which can be suddenly thrown down over the eye to protect it; because at the velocity with which they fly, and with the delicate texture of their eye, the least speck of dust would act upon it as a penknife thrust into the human eye. This film is to protect the eye, and the same thing exists to some extent in the eye of the horse. The horse has a very largo eye, very liable to take du'-' Tin i coating in the horse' eye is called thfl hn" or thir"ortnn ^nch weight. Now, a bird has such m ai. i!,'. "When he wishes to descend, he compresses it at will, and falls rapidly ; when he would ri sp, he increases it, and flouts with ease. He also has the power of forcing air into the hollow parts of the hcwly, and thus to assist his flight. The same thing may be observed in fishes. They also have an air-bag to enable them ' rise or sink in the water, till they find their temperature. If they wsh to rise, they increase it ; if they wisli to sink they compress it, and down they go. Sometimes the fish, in sinking, makes too strong an elTort to compress it ; then down he goes to the bottom, and there re- mains for the rest of his life. Flounders, and some other fish, have no air-bag; and so they ore never found floating on the surface, but must always be caught at the bottom. In this "woy are the principles of science applied to almost everything. Yon wish to know how to pack the greatest amount of bulk in the smallest space. The form of cylinders leaves large spaces between them. Mathe- maticians labored hard for a long time to find what figure could be used so as to lose no s])eck ; and at last found that it was the six- sided figure, and also that a three-plane end- ing in a point, fo'ined the strongest roof or door. The honey-bee discovered the same things a good wiiile ago. The honey-comb is made up of six-sided figures, and the roof is built with three-plane surfaces coming to a point. If a flexible vessel be emptied of air, its sides will be almost crushed together by the pressure of the surrounding atmosphere. And manHtf ^ - HJ t t^M t tmw ^ittMtKl le to take dtiM. Tin. i-vn \n callrd th*! hnw yim will wntrh clt»el_v, 1(1 mill rf'turn with c]vf irs uwHV thi' f irm )W roil a foot li. ?, wliiii t ; M wripht mitiiy timci Naturr tfoms to hovn this alwi, UiDsi before lidcovcretl it, aii'l all th' hollow. 'i'hfi M.I, use ihi'V must be ^ ,11" vings w-ith sutHeifiit ve- *t also be li'jht, in onler he air. Bi'ii also ilhs- nntnral philo>-< ph If 3 it air-tighl, "Mil jmi it support a large weight, Is. But twist it, or di- iri ii will sTipiiort nr) <«nch rd has sxich nn aii ig. osceiK?, he compresses it Uy ; when he woiiM rr*-?, outs with ease. Hi' also rcing air into the hollow d thus to assist his flight, y l)(! observed in fishop. ir-bag to enable then, rater, till they find thci. ise, they increase it ; if !y compress it, and down is the fish, in sinkin";, ffort to compress it ; then B bottom, and there re- hislife. Flounders, and 5 no air-bag; and so they ting on the surface, but ;ht at the bottom. :he principles of science ■erything. Yon wish lo e greatest amount of bulk . The form of cylinders between them. Mathe- rd for a long time to find e used so as to lose no Dund that it was the six- J that a three- plane end- led the strongest nx)f or lee discovered the same igo. The honey-comb is i figures, and the roof is ne surfaces coming to a si be emptied of air, its crushed together by the nnding atmosphere. And ij r ! *• Bo-Peep. 83 WUITEFIKLD AND WESLEY if a tube piirtly tilled with fluid hv. cmntipil of air, the lliiiil will rim to the lop. Tlui lic^o umlcr«liin(U tirw, and whi'n ho eomeH m tho cu|) of till! tall li()iioy-8uokle, nii to tho knowledge of tho true (jod, and of Jesus Christ, whom lie had •♦ent. The drunkard left his cups ; the licentious his haunts ; and the profane ceased his ooths. Many, who had been like the Corinthians, were, like them, " washed, and sanctified, and justified, in the narnc of tho Lord Jesus, and by tho Spirit of our God." " I.intii am) benHti of navRgn name, Val on the iiuturo uf tliu Lamb." The cl(M|uence of George Whitefield and of John Wesley was of a very dillerent char- acter each from the other. But each was suited to win attention, to secure confidence, and to accomplish tho grand jiuriioses of preaching — by rescuing men from the jjaths of sin, and rest(jring them to the obedience of the truth. Whitefield, overflowing with the strong and tender sensiuilities of his nature, exhibited his whole soul in his features and in every niovc- ment of his '. ixly. His very tones, even with )ut words, assisted by his ctnintennnee, would touch the chords of fimr, and terror, and h()])e, and sensibility, in the vast crowds that always assembled to liear him. And when these tones conveyed the awakening, peace-giving, ami hojie-inspiring truths of the gospel, with God's blessing they produced their appropriate effects. Wesley was un ehxiuent man, but of a very dilferent order. His undoubted jiiety, his pu- rity, his absti.'niionsness, and his observance of clerical propriety in his costume and de- portment, inspired his hearers with confidence and reverence. No one heord from him the bursts of eloquence which distinguished Whitefield's jircaching. There were no sud- den thunderings and lightnings from Mount Sinai, taking his hearers by surprise, and making them quake with fear and terror. But there was an even, a gentle flow of truth, like a clear and refreshing, but almost noise- less stream — varied with facts and narratives - -Timam m ':m nnd W«"«lny received .'tiro shut out frmn the CHtnlilislir'd (,'liurcho!i, ■o, priMii-liini; thi; wonl. iiiirs — mill MiiiK'tiincs in itirn — ihrsc men i)t'(f(Hl, luiilinesH, nnd piithim of tecn«t»l, wnnit'd ninticr« ith to ciirnn, nnd iniidn riches i)t' the ftruee of Tlio ellt'ct on inulritudos (• und bfttiT tliiin this; inctifyiiii; — suvinj;. The 1 an intellectual impulse u^tiT, Huch ntj they never They were tramed to id were lifted up to the ue (Jod, nnd of Jesus 1 1 f^nt. The drunkard eiitious hia hauiita ; und lis oQths. Many, who Corinthians, were, like snnctilied, and justified, Lord Jesus, and by the :iof Havnge name, Lie uf tliu Lamb." George Wliitefield and of u very dill'eient cliar- ollier. But each was in, to secure contidence, the grand purposes of ng men from the paths ;liem to the obedience of iwing with the strong and his nature, exhibited his ures and in every move- His very tones, even ted by his countenance, irds of f(mr, and tc'rror, ility, in the vast crowds led to hear him. And inveyed the awukenin;;, :ie-inspiring truths of the blessing they produced lets. Kjuenl man, but ot a very undoubted jiiety, his pu- less, and his observance in his costume and de- s hearers with confidence I one heard from him nee which distinguished ig. There were no sud- I lightnings from Mount carers by surprise, and ! with fear and terror, n, a gentle flow of truth, sshing, but almost noise- .vith facts and narratives r 1 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^ 150 L; I. •UUt- |2e |25 20 1.8 Photographic Sciences Corporation L25 iu iii.6 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 < <. y^ ^)uld l)e attended to, when plants are kf'[)t in living rooms, is to re- move all the dead leaves as soon as they ap- pear, as the decomposition of vegetable mat- ter is extremely injurious to the health of hu- man beings. Even ihe plants themselves ap- pear to grow better when all the decaying vegetable matter they produce is n^gularly removed from them; and not only do they grow more vigorously, but the perfume and beauty of their flowers is said to be increased. In attending to the cultivation of plants which are to be kept in rooms, it must never be forgotten that they mpiiic I'.-r as well as water to n(nirish them. It hua been long known that ])lants will not thrive unless the air has free access to their leaves ; but it has only lately been ascertained that the leaves not only act in elaborating the sap, but that they also tak(; in nourishment from the atmo- sjdiere. Aii should likewise be permitted to have access to the roots moderately, so as not to dry them ; as the roots can derive nourish- ment from it, as well as the leaves, provided they are kept in a sufficiently moist state by the earth with which they are surrounded, to be capable of taking nourishment from any- thing. The important fact that plants derive a great portion of their nourishment from the atmoajiheric air, was little known before the time of Liebig ; and even now, it is so contrary to all our ancient prejudices, that even where it is acknowledged, it is rarely remembered when the rules derived from it are to be acted upon. Light is as essential as air or water to the growth of plants; and os jilants in pots rarely obtain a sufficient (|uantity whi'n thcv are kept in living rooms, their stems are fici|Ufntly drawn up till they become wciik .iiid slcndir, and neither their leaves nor thrir (lower,-- are so dark as they would be if thv jiliiiits w( re grown in the open air. When plants are grown in grcenliouses, they are generally placed upon a stage raised on steps one above another, and in this manner the leaves receive the full odvantage of light, while the sides of the pots are not dried by exjiosure to tin? sun ; but the reverse of this generally takes place when plants are ke])t on a wiiulow-siil, as the leaves of the plants are fieciueiitly shaded by some projecting jiart of the i;onse or window ; while the pots are exposed to the full influ- ence of the sun, and thus the jxiints of the roots of the plants contained in them are very apt to become dry and withered. It may |)ossibly be thought by some persons, that it is scarcely necessary to enlarge on the importance of light, air, and water, to the health of plants, as every one must be aware of that fact ; this, howtner, is far from being the case. The generality of amateurs who cultivate plants in pots, think that the j)rinei- pul care re(|uisite for their ]ilunts is to keep thein wann ; and if they do not grow freely, to give them niaimre ; but nothing can be more ernnieous than this mode of treatment. Too much heat is as injurious as too much cold ; and if jjlants are brought suddenly out of a cool greenhouse into a very warm room, they will become sickly ; their ilower-bmis will fall otr without ex))anding, and ])robably they will lose the greater \mn of their leaves. Over-manuring is still more injurious. The roots of i)lants in jjots are so cramped by the confined space in which they are kept, that they have seldom strength to digest strong manure ; and there is no doubt that great num- bers of greenhouse plants were killed by over- doses of guano, when it was first introduced. Giving strong manure to a sickly plant is as injurious as giving strong food to an invalid ; and in both cases, does harm rather than good. If to over-manuring be added abundant wa- tering, and want of drainage, the earth in the pot becomes what is called sour, and is not only totally incapable of aflijrding nourish- ment, but it actually rots the roots of the plants growing in it. Excellence is never granted to man, but as the reward of labor. It argues, indeed, no small strength of mind to persevere in the habits of industry without the pleasure of perceiving those advantages, which, like the hand of a clock, while they make hourly approaches to their point, yet proceed so slowly as to escape observation. 1 OS plants ill pots rarely |unntity when llicv are heir sieins ure l'ie(|iii.|itl y coiiu' weiik £> 86 VIADUCT OVER THE PATUXENT. pxppctnil ? We are very far from having rcni'hod the limit of the earth's productive- ness. Ildw larfjo a portion of its surt'uce is yet iirieuitivated ! how imperfect much of our actual cultivation! In seienee, the progress of 8oci'hicl the capital by the Potomac and I'atnxent. Comm.idore Harney, obedient to orders, blew ui)tlie llolilla in "the I'atnxent, and, with his mill, joined (Jeneral Winder, (ieneral Ross landed six thousand inen at the head of frigate navigation. IIc! was met by (ieneral Winder, and his force of live thousand men, at Rladenslmr,«h. The action conmieiiced at nixHi. In the main roali and Aineri- cuiis, who iiiiiv to this diiv view the grimiui, enrielieil liy the lil 1 of their cherished sons. IJis reciillei^tidus of this period were vivid ; once h(^ narrowly eseii|ied lieiiig mnile prisoner. He was afterwiirdiu the buttle of Heiiiiingtoii, and expressed the ucuteness of his feelings in going over the Imtlle-ground the day after the conK'st. When llii' tcnn of his enlistment expirt'd, lie was snlieited to remain, with olli'rs of iniTcased eniiliiment; hut he was heart- sick of ihi l)usiuess, and jiersistcd in ([uitting the camp. This was, in truth, the scIkkiI in which Providence liiid liestiiied him to be educated ; it was here he was to learu the means of being most useful to his fellow-ereatures ; to learn the nature of war, its vampire horrors, futten- inn on the blood of fellow-men, and rioting on the bed of carnage. He expressed devout gratitude fo Pioviilence, who had led him un- harmed through moral dangers, but he was shocked to Hml how greatly the generous and tender syin[)ulhies of his nature hadbecomc! weakened by the sight of human carnage. There was still, however, a living spring of symjiathy in his heart; he had found a being congenial to himself, with a mind gentle and courageous as his own — a voung girl, v.-ho at the age of sixteen was w' v^ to pledge her faith to him, then eighteen, ; 1 hand in hand meet poverty and war. Another source of education was now opened to him : he was reipiestcd to become the teacher of the villu're school. He felt his deficiencies for such im office, but was resolute and determined to remove them. He devoted the intervals of the school — it must be re- membered that this occupied only the winter months — in actpiiring stich learning as was . most useful and necessary ; and finding it dif- ficult to procure pa|)er during the war, he selected pieces of white birch bark, and imi- tated the liest copies of handwriting he could find. He was fortunate enough at the age of eighteen to procure a dictionary, the first he ever possessed. That he was continued in the office of a teacher nine successive winters, is a proof how faithfully he tilled it. He was itariied with no other prospects in life but farming in the summi -, and keeping schtxil in the winter; yet peace and cotitentmeni made their home in his dwelling. At this time ho was twenty-one years of age, and hud never written any comjKisitions on abstract subjects. He mentions writing letters for liimself and others who had friends in the army, and also when teaching, com|)osing copies for his schol- ars, and (piestions in arithmetic, instead of taking them from books. His huiiils of reflec- tion and iiKiuiry were formed, and led him to fret! discussions, and even arguments, on vari- ous sulijecls. About this period a convention of delegates had formed aeunsiiiution tiir New Hampshire, his native state, which they caused to be printed and sent to the diirerent towns, with a reipiest tliiit "such objeelions as should occur might Ije stated in writing, with reasons for theiisupport, and forwarded to the convention at their next meeting." It was now that the treosnres of his mind, which hud been gradually acciimuhuing, burst forth into siiontuneous fruit. He coinposetl an article on the subject, perfectly satisfactory to till.' committee and the town, and began to feel that by |iractice he might wite to advantage. He fonned the habit of examining religious subji'cts, by writing short dissertations on dif- ferent questions. He was jirompted to these exercises by the (|uickness and activity of his mind, ui.'d for his own satisfaction. The strength of these impulses maybe better com- lireheiided by a. knowledge of his situation. He had an incn^asing family, and no means of subsistence but the labor of his own hands. This was incessant. When not working on the farm, he applied himself to making shoes, which became in fact his recreation. The man who was to efl'ect a revolution in public ojiinion in after-life, sat at work upon his bench, ajiparently wholly engaged with his awl and his la.st; but at the end of the bench lay his lapboard, with jien, ink, and paper, upon it ; and when his thoughts were ripe for expression, the shoe gave place to the lap- board, and placing it on his knees, he poured forth the eloquent thoughts that demanded utterance. We have no intention of entering into the process of Mr. Worcester's theological opin- ions, deeply interesting t ■ they are, and guided and developed by the faithful study of Scrip- ture. This has been done liy the ablest of pens ; and though the hand that once guided it is still and consigned to the dust, the mind tliat impelled it still lives, and will continue to influence thousands of human beings.* The power of self-education is much better understood in the present day than it was at that period of Noah Worcester's life. Those • The Rev. Henry Ware, Jan., D.l). ":f;f"«4»i,. -1 ■'*1 trs. W'nrccs- 111 her scat. At rlic time inui'li injured, liut licr sit- 'iilciit aluriiiin^', Jiisf one I'W Kiiu'lanil lluinks',Mvinly ob- liy tlicir (Icscciidanis. As peculiar to New Kimlatid, to say n word on the sub- naljy designed lo bo ob- duy of jirayer tlian fcnst- ul, friends collected avoiind ! rnorniiii; public service, became an important fen- K-day. At tliis jieriod of iiiistry it bad iiccome one II as public devotion ; and wen; saddiMied as they to cliundi lluit ibe wife of !l, and not expected to live i a blusterinj; November lliter, " and I never hear ind whistlinji without re- le was only six years old, i arc vivid on th(! subject, e added, "who jierformed held my two elder brothers kon our inotlu r, and said, lit slocpeth.' I wondered his little iiiicoiiscious child ; years to be the nurse and ler father. Left with the Iren, it became imperative well-bciTifj. An excellent 3 was found, wlio became It was n happy union, and ;ed till witliin five years ■ endeavored to follow, in the life of Noah Worces- 3 not allow us to continue 8 it is ; wc liasten to the nemoir. 3ved to Bri^'hton, in the at the solicitation of four li^hest respectability, to !d The Christian Dis"';iple. lis work was one of gen- iharity. " The Disciple," NOAH W0UCE8TER, THE AMERICAN APOSTLE OF PEACE. 91 says Dr. Ware, " ns it came forth with its monthly burden to the church, might remind one of tlie aged disciple, John, who is said from sabbath to sabbath to have risen before the congregation to reiieat this allectionate ex- hortation, ' Little chiklren, love one another.' " His mind had long been revolving the great subject of war. "At first," he snys, "my views were perplexed, dark, nnd confused ;" but tlio war of 1812, between (ireat Hritain and tlie United States, operated with liim on entire conviction; and in 1814 he wrote "A Soh^nm Review of the Custom of War." This, says his biographer, was the most suc- cessful and etFicient pamphlet of any period. It has been translated into many languages, and circulated extensively through the world, and has been one of the chief instruments by which tlie ojiinions of society have been af- fected in the present century. It found a rc- 8j)onse in every heart ; the world was wearied with buttles; and enough were found in every country to repeat cud enforce its doctrines. The Massachusetts Peace Society was f )rmed, and the publication of " The Friend of Peace" began in 1819, ond was continued iiujuarterly numbers for ten years. Noah Worcester de- voted his talents lo this work. The revolu- tion it created in society sutliciently jiroves its power and richness ; it was full oF varii-ty and argument, and enlivened with u quaint shrewdness of remark, and a gentle humor, which "just opened upon the reader, like the quiet heat of a summer-day's twilight, and then disappeared." It is on th's ground, as the apostle of peace, that we consider him one of the most remark- able men of the age, and one worthy to be known to our readers. He carried the world perceptibly forward — he opened a new era in Its history — he made the abolition of war practicabfe by reasoning and demonstration. To circulate pacific opinions in his own coun- try, he considered but a small part of his work. He wrote to the emjioror Alexander of Russia, and received an answer dated St. Petersburg, July 4, 1807, assuring him of his " cordial approbation." We con only quote the concluding sentence : " Considering the object of your society, the promotion of peace among mankind, as one so eminently congenial to the spirit of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have judged it proper to express these my sentiments respecting your labors, in answer to your communications to me on this subject." In a letter from Prince Alexander Galitziny, we find the concluding sentence : " Most ear- nestly praying for every blessing to accompany yor.r labor in promoting peace on earth, and good will among men, I shall esteem it a pe- culiar honor to be among the members of such a humane society." Mr. Worcester received letters from dis- tinguixhed men, and from foreign Roeiclies. Among the collection of letti'rs aililressed to him, it may not be uninteresting to mention one from Jeaiie Pierre Hoyer, president of tho reimblic of Hayti. It is dated, " Port-au- Prince, le 9 June, 1818, An' l.j de I'liidejien- dance," and breathes tlirougliout a spirit of peace. All these tokens of respect and approbation were encouraging to the Friend oj Peaci; ; and it is justly observed that " by commencing a systematic enterprise against war, he set in motion an agency which unites itself with tho other agencies now carrying forwanl the prog- ress of man, and which are so knit together, and so reciprocally strengthen each other, that they make sure the final comniest of tho wori '." That the work is still incomplete we see too many proofs ; but hove we not reason to believe that n wonderful change of opinion has taken place. The great jirinciples of pi'ace are well understood. The world can only be changed through its oiiinions. Noah Worcester set in motion that direct action which goes at once to the bottom of the sub- ject. The active combination of peace so- cieties throughout the Christian we -Id, by ai^ents and books, bear witness to tho value of his labors ; it was owing to his pamphlet called " A Solemn Review of the Custom of War," which appeared without a namo or any recommendation, that the " Peace Society of Massachusetts" was formed. " He began his efforts," said the late Dr. Channing, " in the darkest day, when the whole civilized world was shaken by conflict, and threatened by military despotism. He lived to see more than twenty years of general iieace, and to see through these years a multiplication of national ties, an extension of commercial com- munications, an establishment of new connex- ions between Christians and learned men through tho world, and a growing reciprocity of friendly and beneficent influence among different states — all giving aid to the principles of peace, and encouraging hopes which a cen- tury ago would have been deemed insane." Noah Worcester believed that no mightier man than William Penn ever trod the soil of America, when entering the wilderness un- arnied, and stretching out to the savage a hand which refused all earthly weapons, in token of brotherhood and peace. He believed in the power of Christian love to subdue and control the angry passions, and his whole de- meanor expressed this feeling. There was an unusual gentleness in his manner, and at the same time a dignity which at once commanded respect. He was tall and athletic in his form ; as he advanced in life his silver locks fell to his shoulders ; though he gave the beholder ^i Siiiit-' I 92 THK PHILOSOPHY OF A TEAK. an idea of rnoeknono, it wa« jii«tly inid. thrrc was n niujrsty in hin im;t'kiir?t«). Wn wt-ll ri'tncnjlicr tlii'* vcncralilc iniin war the cIukc of his lite — liis lliiwiiig l(i<:koculinr sweetness nnd gentleness, and sootlnm; and comfortini; him under the infirmities of nge. By hercnre ami economy she made )i»s means sutfieicnt for all liis wants, and (;ttv(! an nir of neatness und tnste to tin* little tenenjent which ho rented from Mr. Parsons at u low rato. He spoke of his old age as tlie hap|>iesr jjart of his life. "WVien I have visited him," says Dr. Channing, " in his last years, and looked on his sen-ne conntenance, nnd heard his cheerful voice, nnd soon the youthful ear- n«srness with which he was reudina a variety of books, nnd studying the great interests of humanity, I have tV-lt how little of this out- ward world is needed to our haijpiness ; I have felt the greatness of the human spirit, which could create to itself such joy from its o%vn resources." He closctl his mortal life October 31, 1837, aged 79 years. A monu- ment has been erected to his memory at Mount Auburn, by numerous friends. On one side is this inscription : '• Blessed are the i)eace- raakcrs, for they shall be called the children of God." THE PHILOSOPHY OF A TEAR. Beautiful Tear ! whether lingering upon the brink of the eyelid, or darting down the furrows of the care-worn cheek — thou art beautiful in thy simplicity — great because of thy modesty — strong from thy very weakness. Onspring of sorrow ' who will not own thy claim to sympathy ? who can resist thy elo- quence ? who can deny mercy when thou pleadest ? Beautiful Tear ! Let us trace a tear to its sonrce. The eye is the most attractive ergon of nnimal bodies. It is placed in a bony socket, by which it is protpctol, nnrr- form tho motions reipiisite to its nses. The r..ys of light which transmit the images of ex- teniol objects enter thi^ i>npil through the cryntullini! lens, and fall upon the retina, upon which, within the space represented by a dime, is foniH'd, in all beauty and perfec- tion, nn exact image of many miles of lanii- scnpe, every object displaying its pniper color and true proixirtions — trees and lakes, hills and valleys, insects and flowers, nil in truB keeping, are there shown nt once, nnd the impression jiriKlnccd thereby upim the fila- ments of tho oj)tin nerve causes n sensation •.vliich communicates to tho mind tho apparent <|Ualities of the, varied objects we behold. That this wonderful faculty of vision may be uninterru]iti'd,it is necessary that tho trant*- [Mirent membrane which forms the external covering of the eye shall be kept r»«)ist and free from the ctintact of opnipio substances. To supply the fluid which shall moisten nnd cleanse the rye, there is placed at tho outer and u])f>er part of the ball a small gland, which secretes the lachrymal fluid, nnd jiours it ont nt the corner of tm; eye, whence, by the mo- tion of the lids, it in eipiully spread over the surface, and thus moisture and clearness ore nt once secured. When we incline to sleep, tho eyes become comparatively bloodless nnd dull. The eye- lids dnip to shut out everything which might tend to arouse the slumbering senses. The secretion by the lachrymal glands is probalily nil but suspended, nrolthe organs of sight par- ticipate in the general rest. When, after a long night's sleep, the eyelids first open, there is, therefore, a (tulness of vision, arising prob- ably from the dryness of tho coniea : then or(;ur the rajiid nw'itions of tho eyelids, famil- iarly termed " winking" — sometimes instinct- ively aided by rubbing with the hands — and after n few m^iments the *' windows" of the b(Hly have been properly cleansed ami set in order, the eye adjusted to the quantity of light it must receive, and we are " awake" for the day, and mnv go forth to renew our acquaint- ance with the beauties of nature. It is from the glands which supjily this moisture that tears flow. Among physiologists it is well known that emotions — imjjressions upon the nervous system—exercise a powerful nnd immediate influence npon the secretions. As, for instance, the mere thought of some savory dish, or delicious fruit, or something acid — as the juice of the lemon — will excite an instant flow of the salivary fluid into the mouth. An emotion of the mind influonccs the lachrymal glands, which copiously secrete and jxiur forth the crystal drops, ami these, as they api>ear upon tap surface of the eye, we denominate tears. fxTfin it fitiiU room t(i jw- ri'i|ui«iti! to its noi'ii. Tho h tiiirisinit tlicininjfPHof rx- Irr the I ii|iil tliri(ii;;h tliH iinil Cull ii|«in t!iu retina, III till' s|inc(' ri'|ir«'scntcil liy t, iri 111! In'mity iind |n'rlrc- li'ii' of iiinuy (nilt'r* of Inmi- ■I ili-'plnyiiii; its pnipcr color ii'in -trci's mid InkcH, hilli ■I -I anil fldwcru, all in triiB •«! nhowri ot once, nnil f?i« [■I'd tliiTijby u|>on tl>t' fila- <; ncrvfi ruiisi h a Hrnsotion itesto the iiiiiulthi! apfiarcnt iricfl obji'fts we tichcilil. 'crful faculty of vision may it iMncrcsHnrythiitthe traiMt- whicli forms thi; extcninl yc Hhnll hi: kept moist ami ifnct of opnijiio sulistatires. liil which slinll moisten oikI :hf'rii is placed at tlin outer the hull a small ,t(lund, which yinnl fluid, nnil jiours it nnt fi(! cyo, whence, by the mo- ir, einiuUy spread over the moisture ajid clearness are le to sleep, the eyes become K)dk'ss Olid dull. The eyc- I'lt everything which mii;ht e slumbering senses. The ichrymal glands is probably , am! the organs of sight par- ■neral rest. When, after a the eyelids first open, there liiess of vision, arising prob- yness of tho cornea : then otiiins of the eyelids, famil- nking" — sometimes instinct- bbing with the hands — and ■nts the *' windows" of the iroperly cleansed and set in listed to the quantity of light ind we are " awake" for the forth to renew our acquaint- intics of nature. glands which supply this ■) flow. Among physiologists that emotions — imj^essions system — exercise a powerful flucnce upon the secretions, the mere thought of some elicious fruit, or something 3 of the lemon — will excite r the salivary fluid into the '.ion of the mind influences nds, which copiously secrete le crystal drops, ami these, pen toe surface of the eye, ars. MUTUAL INaTHUCTION CLASStt. 03 A similar actum, called forth by another ' iiidiHsolublo union. Kverythinir proctiraMn kind ol .•xcit.-meiit, .K'cuis when dust or otiier should lie d,m.! to rendtT the m.etinan of tli,. irntiituiy suliNtumre comes iii coiitiu't with tli.. class not merely useful liiit entertaiiiintf The eye : ilie giaiuls it.stuntly secrete al)uii.la,iily. j dull bending over books is fur i.iferi.ir lo other and pouring llie .-rystal fluid o-it upon the i and more social m.Hles of acouiriugknowlidL-e mirluce, the eye is protected from injury, and ; A plan which works well is, to pr se to file !','," ';H';"''"'fi «;il"^taiice is washed away. ; class that some work of recognised ,.ve,-l!ei„e Ihe feelings which excite excessive laughter; lie read and conversed upon. Take for iii- or joy iiUo Ntimulat.! this secretion— the ..'yes stance, Combe's work on the I'liysiolo-y „f are said to "water.'' It is only when "tlie j H.alth. Let A. read aloud to tli... ela« ,,i crystal drop comet forth under the impulse one night. J{. on onother, an.l so on in rotation ol sorrow— thus speaking the anguish of the | One half-hour (or more) to !»• si.ent in re.idiu!.'' iiHiid— that It can properly t e called a tear. I a subsequent half-hour (or mor.') in conver^u- 1 f ■lire its sacred character, anrl the sympathy t ion upon the subject read. Li t the reader which it si'lilom fails to create. Kvery tear repn I'lits some indwelling sor row pn;ying u|)on ilie mind oiid eating out its stand up, uncovered, and reail aloud, as to a larger audience. At the close, C. requests that the passage relating to exercise' before and )»eiiee. Tile tear comes forth to declare the | rest after meals, be reread, because of its ii.i- l".^^.'!*' . '*"'.",W''v,'""' '" l'''"',"' " ,f"L-i' against portance. U. wishes the reader ogaia to state the components of atmosidierie air. In coii- I 111 I her St rile. How meet that the eye should be tlic seat of tears — where they can not oc- cur unobserved, but blending with the speak- ing liiauty of the eye itself nmst command atli'iiliun and sympathy. Whenever we behold a tear, let our kindli- est sympathies awuke— let it have u sacF i how evenings mav be spent in o way at once claim upon all that we can do to succor auj . instructive and entertaining. * le components of atmospheric air. In nexion with this latter subject, K. suirgests a siitqile method for the ventilation of work- shops; and F. enlarges upon its importance, as u means for the preservation of lualtli. These outlines will be sullicient to show comfort under ttlUiction. What rivers of tears have flown, excited by the cruel and perverse ways of man ! War has sjiread its carnage and desolation, and the eyes of widows and orjiliuiis have been sullused with tears ! In- t(!inperaiice has lilighted the homes of millions, and weeping and wailing have beim incessant ! A thousand other evils which we may con(|uer have given birth to tears enough to constitute u flood — a great tide of grief. Sujipose we (irize this little philosophy, and each one de- terniine never lo exrile a tear in another — how ))leasantly wi!l i'iire mankind ! Watching the eye as tho telegraph of the mind within, let us observe it with anxious regarrl ; and whether we are moved to complaint by tho existence of supposed or real wrongs, let the idication of the coming tear bo held as a sacred truce to unkindly feeling, and all our ell(>rts bo de- voted to the substitution of smiles for tears ! MUTUAL INSTRUCTION CLASSES. To make a mutual instruction class suc- cessful, it should be so coudu jted as to sustain the character it Bc-nimes. It should be em- ])hatically an instruction class, and every member should feel himself at the close of each meeting in the possession of some fact he had not known before. This constitutes the reward of membership, and sujiplies a tie strong enough to bind a group of inquirers in A. IS exercisei, in reading — H. C. tVc, are improved in their conversational abilities — and all ore iieiielited by the nccjuiri'ment of knowledge, while the jiart each takes in the jiroceedings sharjiens the faculties and shakes olF drowsiness. OccasionoMy, subjects may be set apart for debat". But it must always be remembered that discussion involves the jionsession of knowledge, rather than tho acijuirement of it. But matters will constantly arise out of these readings u])on which the members may dillcr. Thus Combe recommends the use of alcoholic stimulants under certain circumstan- ces. P., however, sees reason to djssent from Combe's opinion ; and is strengthened by the experience of six years, during which, in ill- ness and in health, he has lived in entire dis- use of them. He believes, moreover, that the use of intoxicants, whether medicinal or other- wise, is fraught with dangerous conseqi ences, and should be altogether avoided — he, there- fore, proposes to the class to discuss the (pies- tion : Are olcoholic drinks essential under any and what <■ ■'cumstances ? This subject dis- cussed, var. ., • opinions arc elicited, and H. proposes to u_ the subject in another sense — Do the social and i)hysical evils, arising from the use of alcoholic drinks, outweigh thie sup- posed benefits from them, and demand their entire disuse ? In this way, question will multiply upon <)uestion — and the perusal of one woik will sujiply various matters for discussion, at the same time that tho members of the class are fitting themselves to analyze the matter in iJ •r{ 94 GOLD AND SILVER MINES OF MEXICO. (lisimte. Subjects chosen for dobntc sTioiil.1 ahvays have some practical bearing uj^on the ■welfare of the world. „ , , ,. A "ooJ plan is occasionally to have a public meotinK, unJ the friends of the members in- vited to attend. At these meetings each member should say something upon a subject in which he is most skilled and interested. A. is appointed chairman ; and being a mechanic, opens by a description of the steam-engine, and oHers a few remarks upon the revolution produced by its mighty powers. B., a pnntcr, describes the process of printing, and adverts to the great influence of the press. C. has looked into the almanac and seen the an- nouncement of a partial lunar eclipse : he in- vites his fellow-members to watch the interest- ing ])henomena, and briefly describes the laws by which it is produced. D. has brought a curious specimen of natural history, which he has borrowed to show to the class, and ex- i.lains its peculiarities. E. describes the elec- tric telegraph, and displays a few diagrams ot his owi preparation. F. communicates a lew thoughts upon natural theology, and the chairman having taken notes of the proceed- ings, concludes by a summary of the subjects, remarks upon the pleasures of the night, and encourages the members to persevere in their good co°urso. In these jjroceedings, every speaker should stand uncovered. The chair- man should occupy an elevated seat, and ev- ery regard should be bestowed upon order and mutual respect. The interest and profit ot these meetings are greatly enhanced by due regard to such regulations ; while those who participate in them are fitted for such impor- tant stations in life as they may be called upon to fill hereafter. That which has been suggested here to classes, may also be carried out in families with great profit. Why should not every family constitute a class, where parents and children, uncles, aunts, and nenhews, and a circle of cousins and acquaintances, now and then meet alternately at each other's homes, to carry on these sweet pursuits, and thus add to the charms, the poetry of life, and multiply its ])loasures 1 GOLD & SILVER JUNES OF MEXICO. WEIGHTS AND MEASURES. Wheat flour, 1 pound is 1 quart. Indian meal, 1 pound 2 ounces is 1 quart. Butter, when soft, 1 pound 1 onnce is 1 quart. Loaf-sugar, broken, 1 pound is 1 quart. White B.igar, powdered, X pound 1 ounce is 1 quart Be-it brown sugar, 1 pound 2 ounces is 1 quart. ERgs, average size, 10 ejrgs are 1 pound. Sixteen large tablespoonfuls are half a pint Eight tablespoonfuls are 1 gill. Fimr large tablespoonfuls are half a grilt A oommonsized tumbler holds half a pmt- A commousizBd wine-glass holds half a gdl. The gold and silver mines of Mexico have not been overrated. From the discovery of this continent in 1490, to the year ipn.3, the "old and silver obtained from the American mines amounted to the enormous sum of $5,700,700,000. Of this sum an average of $:5,5,000,000 was jjroduced after the year 1750. Although a large amount of the \ne- cious melals arc annually jjroduced in South America, Mexico is constantly increasing the number of her mines, so that her facilities for furnishing gold and silver are second to none on the comment. The (lunntity of silver pro- ductid by the American mines as compared with the gold, is as forty-six to n:ie. The silver ore obtained in Mexico is not as valuable as that obtained in Europe; yielding but one ounce of pure siher to four hundred ounces of ore; while the average yield of the Euroi>can ore is very near three times as great. The mines of Europe have been worked for centuries, and the heavy expense reiiuired to obtain the ore from the bowels of the earth, greatly increases the cost of silver. The abundance of ore, and the facilities for procuring it in Mcxicc, more thon compensate for its comparative barrenness. But few large mines have been opened and continually worked in Mexico. It has been the common practice, when the water or nther causes ren- der the mining operations dilicult, to quit the spot and commence at some new place. Semi-barbarous as Mexico has iK-en, there is no country on the globe where the labor of jirocuring the precious metals is so well re- warded as in that country. At Potosi, in South America, the mines are worked entirely by Indians, six thousand of whomare sent every eighteen months from the neighboring provinces, the jiay of each being about thirty cents a day. InEuropc, most of the mines are worked by criminals. In Mexico, the la- borer who works in the mines cams five dol- lars per week, and those employed to carry the ore from the mine to the fumacC; receive nearly two dollars per day's work of six hours, while the common laborer of the country does not earn more than a dollar and a half per week. Specimens of virgin gold have sometimes been discovered in Mexico, but this metal is commonly found combined with quartz, mica, slate, and the various members of the green- stone family. The annual quantity of quicksilver which is used in Mexico for separating the silver from the ore, exceeds 200,000 pounds. This is obtained from Spain, Austria, Italy, and Ger- many. A failure of the rtgular supply of quicksilver would materially retard the pro- [NES OF MEXICO. nines of Mexico hiive rom the discovery of to the year 1803, the (1 from the American e enorinona sum of lis sum nn average of need after tlie year ;e nuKHnit of the prc- lly ])rod need in South isfnntly increasing the ) that ner facilities for er arc second to none quantity of silver jiro- n mines qs compared y-six to c'/io. ed in Mexico is not as id in Europe; viclding silver to four hundred 1 the average yield of ry near three times as r Europe have been ind the heavy expense )re from the ho^vels of ;ases the cost of silver. ;, and the ricilities for more than compensate enness. But few large ened ond continually ; has been the common ter or Dther causes ren- ins dilicult, to quit the some new jdace. Mexico has iK-cn, there obe where the labor of s metals is so well re- entry. At Potosi, in ines are worked entirely and of whom are sent s from the neighboring each being about thirty >pe, most of the mines lis. In Mexico, the la- ic mines earns five dol- lose employed to carry to the furnace, receive day's work of six hours, orer of the country does a dollar and a half per in gold have sometimes FexTco, iTUt this metal is lined ^^^th quartz, mica, members of the green- ty of quicksilver which ,e]iarating the silver from 0,000 pounds. This is Austria, Italy, and Qer- the I'egular supply of ateiially retard the pro- EEMEDIES AGAINST MOTHS. 96 duction of silver from the Mexican mines. The Rothschilds are aware of this fact, and have sometimes operateunhi'il piirth ; the sun (larts ravs of tiro ; the ilust raist-il l)y tin- south wind "blows in whirlwinds over the iilair). . My son, Hr whi) sends Imniin;.' sales seiiils nlso l.edewin;; cloudlets. To each dny belongs its puin and its hojx', and ulttr labor comes retJosi-. My father, do yon fee those ]M^n plants, how'thcy laii^mish, and how their yellow leaves droop down their exhan>riMl sialk ? Thiy will rise up nirain, my son ; no blade of {irass is for<,'otte:i : fruituil rains and I'n-sli di nvs are always provided lor it amidst the celestial tri>asure',. My father, ihebirrls are silent in the folinue ; the (jnuii, iiiiiiioveable in tli>' I'ltrrow does not even recal itseompainon ; the licitcr seeks tlie shade ; and the ox, with irw limbs tolited be- neath his heavy body, his ncek stretelied ont, dilates his lan.'C nostrils, in order to respire th<- air which he is in need of. (lod, my son, will reston^ the birds their voi(res, and the oxen their stren<,'th, (exhausted t)y the extreme heat. The breiv.e which will reanimate them already glides over the sea. Let us seat ourselves, my father, \\\mn the feni that borders the pond, near that old oak { whose haiifjing branches slay there! Some pursue their winged prey, jHior gnats just entered into bcinu; ; others, raising their 'heaoor ? Is not my mother pixir ? It is the sweat of your brow which has given me fo(xl ; have you ever, for one single day, had the morrow provided for ? What signifies the mnrmw to us, my son? The morrow belongs to God ; let us confiile in him. Whoso rises in the moniwig knows not whether he shuil see the evt^ning. Why, th(!n, trouble and diMiuiet one's self about a time which will perhaps never arrive? We live here below like theswallow, seeking from day to day, the bread of coeh day, nnd like her, when the winter ai)prottche8, a mysterious jKiwer draws us to milder climes. Wliat is this, my father ? It resembles a corpse wrapped in its shroud, or an infant rolled in swaddling-clothes. My son, it was a crawling -voni), it will « on be a fixing flower, nn aerial form, which, decked in its brightest colors, will rise toward heaven. HOW TO MAKE STEEL. Steki. is made of the purest ninllenlde iron, by a process called eeinentation. In this operation, layers of malleable iron and layers of charcool ore iihieed one iijion aiidllicr, in a jiroper furnace, the air is excluded, the fire raiseil to a considerable degree of intensity, ami kept up for eight or ten days. If tipon trial of a l)ar, the whole substance is converted hito steel, the fire is extinguished, and the whole is left to cool for six or eight days Itmger. Iron thus prei)ared is eulleil blistered steel, from the blisters which ajipear (m its surface. In England, charcoal alor.e is uscii for this purjxjso : but Dnamel found iin ad- vantage in using one fourth to oi\e third of w(xk1 ashes, especially when the iron was not of so good a (piality os to otlord steel [xissca- siiig tenacity of body as well ns hardness. These ashes prevent the steel-making jiroerss from being effected so rapidly as it wmild otherwise be, and give the steel pliability without diminishing its hardness. The blis- ters on the surface of the steel, under this management, ore smaller and more numerous. He also found that if the i>ars, when they are put into the fumaee, he sprinkled with sea- salt, this ingredient ctmtributes to give body to the steel. If the cementation be continued t(X) long, the steel becomes porous, brittle, or a darker fracture, more fusible, and capable of being welded. On the contrary, steel ce- mented with earthly infusible jiowdersis grad- ually reduced to the state of ftirged iron again. Excessive or repeating heat in the forge is attendeil with the same effect. The properties of iron are renmrkaMy changed by cementation, atid it acquires a small addition to its weight, wi.i>-h consists of the cariurn it has ahsori>ed from the <-hareonl, and amount.s to about the hundri^l and fiftieth or two hundredth i)art. It is much m. ire brit- tle and fusible than before ; and it may still be welded like bar-iron, if it has not be.- « fused or over-cemented ; but by far the most im- portant alteration in its |)ropenies is, that it can be hardened or softened at pleasure. If it be made red hot, and instantlv e(X>ls. it at- tains a degree of hardness which is sutlicient to cut almost any other substance; but if heated and e(x)l"ed gradually, it becomes nearly as pure as iron, ajid niay, with much the same facility, be manufactured into any determined form. I rr-1 KL. fftwling -voni), it will « on mi ncrial t'i>nii. wliirh, st colms, •will rise tiiwiinl MAKE STEEL. fhr jiTirest mallriililc imn, il ccinontntiou. In this iimllenhle iron ninl layi-rs 1(1 oni! iijn)n aiKilIirr, i?» n air is excluiltMi, the tire al)le dci»rre of intensitj', ht or ten days. If m>im olu substance is converted is extinsuisliod, and the ol for six or cijiht days repared is called Ijlisiercd tors which a|)iK'ar on its id, charcoal alone is used lit Dtiamcl fotind an nd- ic fourth to one third of lly when the iron was not r OS to Qtltjrd steel jHisses- idy Bs well ns hardness, tthe steel-inakinj; process I so rapidly as it would give the steel pliahilify ; its hardness. The blis- I of the steel, under this nailer and more numerous, if the liars, when they are :e, be sprinkled with sea- t contributes to give body ', cementation be continued becomes porous, brittle, or more fusible, and capable Ol the contrarv, steel cc- f infusible jiowders is prad- the state of forijed iron or re]M-atini: heat in the ith the same etVect. of inin are nnmrkably itation, mid it neipiires a s weight, wi.i"'h consists of ibsorbed from the charcoal, )ut the hundred and fiftieth art. Il is much mure brit- I before ; ami it may still be m, if it has not betii fused ; but 1)V far the most im- in its properties is, that it >r softened at pleasure. If , and instantlv cwls, it at- lardness wliicli is suflicient ! other substance ; but if ■d gradually, it becomes iron, ajid may, with much be manufactured into any H H'lM' ^ fifc.*. <..t . Sfe-. It" •■ »■ . « \.%m ♦ti*i.j- M%1' I 98 TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. -tf^r^-^^ Fool of Siloam. % TE4VZLS IN THE HOLY LAND— N». 3. BY HARRIET MARTINEA0. There is little pleasure in visiting the places within the walls of Jerusalem which are reported by the monks to be the scenes of the acts and sufferings of Christ. There is no certainty about these ; and the e]K)ts re- garding which there can be no mistake are so interesting, that the mind and heart of the traveller turn away from such as may be fab- ulous. About the site of the temple there is no doubt ; and beyond the walls one meets at every turn assurance of being where Christ walked and taught, and where the great events of Jewish history took place. Let us go over what J found in one ramble; and then my readers will see what it must be to take walks in the neighborhood of Jerusalem. Leaving the city by the Bethlehem gate, we descended into the valley of Hinnom or Gehenna. Here there are many tombs cut in the rock, with entrances like door-ways. When I speak of Bethany, I shall have oc- casion to describe the tombs of the Jews. It was in this valley, and close by the foun- tain of Siloam, that in the days of Jewish idolatry, children passed through the fire, in honor of Moloch. This is the place called Tophet in scripture — fit to be spoken of as it was, as an image of hell. Here, in this place of corruption and cruelty, where fires hovered about living bodies, and worms preyed on the dead — ^here was the imagery of terror — "the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched." The scene is very ditTercnt now. The slopes are terraced, tlif t the winter rains may not wash away the soil ; and these ter- races were to-day green with springing wheat ; by the Bethlehem gate, the valley of Hinnom or lere are many tombs cut >ntrances like door-ways. Jethany, I shall have oc- the tombs of the Jews, y, and close by the foun- it in the days' of Jewish assed through the fire, in This is the place called — fit to be spoken of as it hell. Here, in this place lelty, where fires hovered and worms preyed on the imagery of terror — " the ;, and the fire that is not ;ene is very different now. iced, tli^t the winter rains y the soil ; and these ter- een with springing wheat ; 4~-j,2 t, ■ ' -'t' '^1 ■.*!!('«• I 100 TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. ::; - " w. ¥^^ Garden of OetbsemaQO. and the spreading olives and fig trees cast flu'ir shadows on the rich though stony soil. Streams wore led from the pool of Siloam among the fields and gardens ; and oil looked cool and fresh in the once hellish spot. On the top of the opposite hill was the Field of Blood — the field bought as a burial-place for strangers, by the priests to whom Judas re- turned his bVibe. For the burial of strangers, it was used in subsequent ages ; for pilgrims who died at the Holy City were laid there. It is now no longer enclosed ; but a charnel- house marks the spot. The ])ools all round Jerusolemore beautiful ; the cool arching rock-roof of some, the weed- tuftcd sides and clear waters of all, are de- licious. The pool of Siloam is still pretty- — though less so, no doubt, than when tne blind man, sent to wash there, opened his eyes on its sacred stream. The fountain of Siloam is more beautiful than the pool. It lies deep in a cave, and must be reached by broad steps which wind down in the shadow. A woman sat to-day in the dim light of reflected sun- shine — washing line.i in the pool. Here it was, that in days of old the priest came down with his golden pitcher, to draw water for the temple service; aud hither it was that the thought of Milton came when he sang of — Biloa's brooH that flowed . . " ' Fast by the oracle of Ood. We were now in the valley of Jehoshaphat ; and we crossed the bottom of it, where the brook Kedron must run when it runs at ail ; but it seems to be now merely a winter tor- rent, and never to have been a constant stream. When we had ascended the opposite side of the valley, we were on the Mount of Olives. The ascent was steep — now among tombs, and now past fields of waving barley, flecked with the shade of olive-trees. As we ascended, the opposite hill seemed to rise, and the city to spread. Two horsemen in the val- ley below, and a woman with a burden on her head, mounting to the city by a path up Mo- riah, looked so surprisingly small as to prove the grandeur of the scenery. Hereabouts it was, as it is said, and may- reasonably be believed, that Jesus raoumed over Jerusalem, and told his followers what would become of the noble city which here rose upon their -s-iew, crowning the sacred mount, and shining clear against the cloudless sky. Dwellcrsin our climate can not conceive of such a sight as Jerusalem seen from the summit of the Mount of Olives. The Moab mountains, over toward the Dead sea, are dressed in the softest hues of purple, lilac, and gray. The hill-country to the north is almost gaudy with its contrasts of color ; its white or gray stones, red_ soil, and crops of vivid green. JJut the city is the glory— aloft on the steep— its long Imes of ■ «.«•' ,e valley of Jehoshaphat ; bottom of it, where the run when it runs at ail ; DW merely a winter tor- have been a constant lad ascended the opposite '6 were on the Mount of was steep — now among fields of waving barley, le of olive-trees. As we ;e hill seemed to rise, and Fwo horsemen in the val- nan with a burden on her le city by a path up Mo- isingly small as to prove scenery. Hereabouts it and may reasonably be mourned over Jerusalem, s what would become of here rose upon their ^^ew, mount, and shining clear s sky. Dwellers in our :eive of such a sight as the summit of the Mount lb mountains, over toward ressed in the softest hues gray. The hill-country t gaudy with its contrasts or gray stones, red soil, ■een. Jjut the city is the steep — its long lines of TllAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. 101 wall clearly defining it to tlie sight, and every miimret and cupola, and alnmst every stone nmrked out by the brilliant sunshine against the deep blue sky. In the spaces unbuilt on within the walls, are tuft;j of verdure; and oypressos spring here and there from some convent garden. The green lawns of the Mos(|ue of Omar, are spread out small before the eye, with their groups of tiny gay moving people. If it is now so glorious a place t(J the eye, what must it have been in the days of its j)nde ! Yet in that day, when every one looked for the exulting blessing " Peace be within thy walls, and prosiffcrity within thy jiahices !" there came instead the lamentation over the Jerusalem that killed the proph- ets and stoned the messengers of Jehovah, and wlioso h(3use must be therefore left desolate. The disciples looking hence upon the strength of the walls, the massiveness of the t(nnple buildings, then springing 480 feet from the bed of the brook below, and the depth and niggedness of the ravines surrounding the city on three sides, might well ask when those things should be, and how they should be ac- complished. On the foi:-;h side, the north, where there is no ravine, the Roman army was encamped. We could now see that rising-ground, once covered with the Roman tents, but to-day with corn-fields and olive- grounds. The Romans encamj)ed one legion on the Mount of Olives ; but it coidd not do any harm to the city, and the only available pomt of attack — the north side — was guarded by a moat and three walls. The oiege was long ; so long that men's hearts failed them for fear, and at least one famished woman ate her own child : and at last the city w(.s taken and nearly destroyed ; and of the temjjle, not one stone was led upon another. How we were in the midst of these scenes to-day ! We stood where the doom was pronounced ; below us was the camp of the single legion I have mentioned ; opposite was the humbled city, with the site of the temple courts ; and over to the north was the cam)) of the enemy. Here was the whole scene of that " great trib- ulation, such as was not known from the be- ginning of the world." From the summit of Olivet, we went down to the scene of that other tribulation — that ai'guish of mind which had perhaps never been surpassed from the beginning of the world. "When Jesus had spoken these words" (his words of cheer after the last sup- per), " he went forth," we are told. " with his disciples over the brook Kedron, where was a garden." Tliis garden we entered to-day, from the other direction, and left it by crossing the bed of the brook. It is a dreary place now, very unlike what it must have been when "Jesus oftimes resorted thither with his disciples." It is a ])lot of ground on a slope above the brook, enclosed with fences of loose stones, and occupied by eight ctremely old olive-trees — the oldest, I should think, that we saw in all our travels. I do not mean that they could have been growing in the days of Christ. That is su])posed to be impossible ; though I never C(ndd leani what is the great- est age known to be attained by the olive- ti'ee. The roots of these were su|)])orted by little terraces of stones, that neither trees nor soil might be washed down the slo])e by the winter torrents. But little remains of these once fine trees but hollow trunks and a few straggling branches. It is with the mind's eye that we must see the filling up of this garden enclosure where Jesus " oftimes resori ■ ed thither" — its orchard of fig, pomegranate, and olive-trees, and the grass or young spring, ing corn under foot. From every part of it the approach of Judas and his party must have been visible. By their "lanterns and torches and weapons," gleaming in the light, they must have been seen descending the hill from the city gate. The sleeping disciples may not hove heeded the lights and footsteps of the multitude ; but step by step as it wound down the steep, and then crossed the brook, and turned up to the garden, the victim knew that the hour of his fate drew on. By the way the crowd came down, we now ascended toward the city, turning aside, how- ever, to skirt the north wall, instead of re- turning home through the streets. Not to mention now other things that we saw, we noted much connected with the siege: — the nature of the ground — favorable for the en- camjiment of an army, and the shallow moat under the walls, where the Romans brought two great wooden towers on wheels, that the men in the towers might fight on a level with those on the walls, and throw missiles into the town. This scene of conflict is very quiet now. A crop of barley was ripening under the very walls : and an Arab, with a soft, mild countenance, was filling his water-skins at the pool, called the sheep-])ool, near the Damascus gate. The proud Roman and de- spairing Jew were not more unlike each other than this Arab, with his pathetic face was unlike them both. As he stooped under the dim arches of the rock, and his red caj) came into contrast with the dark gray of the still water below, and the green of the dangling weeds over his head, our thoughts were re- called to our own day, and to a sense of the beauty we meet in every nook and comer of the Holy Land. From this ramble, my readers may see something of what it is to take walks m the neighborhood of Jerusalem. i'^: '■*•*"-..... •S.;*,, i, h i 10& DUTIES OP SISTEaS TO BR0THEU3, DUTIES OF SISTERS TO BROTHERS. The im|inrtant relation which sisters bear to l)roih(T.s can not lie fully nppreciutotl with- out II rrreater knowledge of the world and its teni|itiitions to young men, than girls in their teens Clin l)o su[)i)osed to possess ; Imt they niny l)e assured that their companionship and iailuence may be jxiwerful agents in iireserv- ing tliiir brothers from dissipation, in saving them from dangerous intimacies, and main- taining in their minds n high standard of female excellence. If your brothers arc younger than von, en- courage them to be perfretly confidential wiili you ; win their friendship by your symjiathv ni all their concerns, and let them see that their interests and their )ileasures are liberally ))rovi(led for in the family arrangements. Never disclose their little secrets, however unimportant they may seem to you; never liniii theniby any ill-timed joke, never repress their feelings by ridicule ; but be their ten- derest friend, and then you may become their ablest adviser. If separated lirom them by tiie course of school or college education, make a point of keeping up your intimacy by full, free, and aH'ectionate corresimndence'; and when they return to the jiaternal roof, at that awkward age between youth and man- hood, when leserveereejjs over tlie mind, like an imjwiietrablo veil, suflcr it not to interpose between you and your brothers. Cultivate their friendship nn(f intimacy with all the ad- dress and tendeniess you possess; for it is of unspeakable im])ortance to them that their sis- ters should be their confidential friends. Con- sider the loss of a ball or party, f(jr the sake of making the evening pass pleasantly to your brothers at home, as a small sacrifice ; cue you should unhesitatingly make. If they go into company with you, see that they are introtluced to the most desirable nc(|uaintanccs, and show them that you ore interested in their acquitting themselves well. If you are so happy as to have elder broth- ers, you should be equally assiduous in culti- vating their friendship, though the advances must of course be diflTerently made. As they have long been accustomed to treat you as a child, you may meet with some repulses when you aspire to become a companion and a friend ; but do not be discouraged by this. The earlier maturity of giris, will soon ren- der you their equal in sentiment, if not in knowledge, and your ready sympathy will soon convince them of it. I'hey will be agreeably surprised when they find their for- mer plaything and messenger become their quick-sij;hted and intelligent companion, un- derstanding at a glance what is passing in their hearts ; and love and confidence on your part will soon be repaid in kind. Young men often feel the want of a confidential friend of the softer sex, to sympathi/.c with them in their little allliirs of sentiment, and happy are those who (ind one in a sister. Once ])ossessed of an elder brother's con- fidence, spare no pains to preserve it ; convince him by the little sacrifices of personal con- venience and pleasure which you are willing to make for him, that when you do op|)ose his wishes, it is on jirinciidi^ and for conscience soke ; then will you be a blessing to him, and, even when dillering from you, he will love and respect you* the more for your adherence to a high standard. .* 1 104 DUTIE8 OF 9I8TEH8 TO BaOTHEaS. I 9 one cnn have rcoUy ernMl monncrs abrrjad, who i« not hiililttmlly polite at lirjtnc Killer sisters rxrrt a vpry great influence over tlie voHngci chililren of a family, either for good or for evil. If yy the lo»8 of contidcnco which follows detec- tion. With every disposition to treat the younger ones kindly, elder sisters are often discouroged and discomforted Ity what they consider the over-indulgence of their parents toward the younger memliers of the family ; hut where this comidaint is well founded, much is still in their power. They can, by judicious conduct, do a great deal to counteract the bad etlects of this parentol fondness, ami make the little ones ashamed to take a mean a " li u ill • JLaJ-^' 108 THE BOUNDLESSNESS OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. but pazcs fnr out into the lustrous ocean, and watcliPs the wliito-s-iiled feluccas, sninil as the curved wiii<;s of seahirds; or still farther stretches her idle paze to where the shadows of the clouds th'.vart with long lines of most delicate gray the silver shining sea. The mother bends her head down over her young- er child, whil(; she clasps her beads and utters a jirayer for the l)ark which is far away. The sad and gentle music of the sea, spreading its thin tide upon the sand, then singing in its re- treat amid shells and agate pebbles, murmurs a fitting undertone to her thoughts. THE BOUNDLESSNESS OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. It will be immediately suggested by the intelligent reader that that which is material can not be boundless, and that therefore the title of the article conveys to the mind an evi- dent anomaly ; but the fact in plain and sim- ple language is that not only the universe, but every oljject in nature, as we shall presently show, is boundless in its ramifications. Bound- lessness may be considered as synonymous with infinity, and there is perhaps no"^ word suggesting ideas so inct.mprehensible and sub- lime as the word infinity ; it is a word the meaning of which we can not conceive, and yet our minds crowd on through a vast and airy field of thought, descrying in the very darkness by which we are surrounded, the scintillations and coruscations of v/hich we are led to dream. And it is because to be im- mortal is to be infinite that the mind thus walks upon ihe wind, and visits fields which lie beyond its ken, for it is to give but a cir- cumscribed notion of infinity to suppose that it can belong to Deity alone, or to the eternity in which Deity dwells. It is not sufficiently realized that eternity is one, and infinity is one ; the infinite is that of which we can not conceive, the point at which the imagination can never arrive; and yet the infinite may be created ; there may have been a time when all with it was darkness, and it may be able to date the moment of its birth, although it never can that of its consummation. "We may see a world first launch forth through the fields of space ; and if it were given us to know that planet was destined to run an im- mortal career, to know that after passing through a series of revolutions, each in it- self boimdlesi? to our eye, it should become Ltherealized — why, because we saw it drink its first beam of glory, because we saw it dart its first fires over the concave of creation, and pourits first fragrance through the atmosphere — we should not the less regard it as an infinite in the germ, as an immortal in the bud. And it is when viewed in this light that the universe presents an aspect of tinboundeil and unlimited creation ; as far as the eye of intel- ligence can glance, it sees matter, and that matter in a state of motion ; and if it casts its eye upward it loses itself in a wilderness of worlds, nnd if it casts its eye downvvurd it loses itself in a wilderness of ages ; f it ana- lyze a drop of water it beholds it jieopled with I ■ forms of life so infinitesimal, that nil jiower of calculation drops the wing and (lags in the august attempt to convey tlie iilea of number. But it will be said that iirojierly speaking this does not convey the idea of boundlessness, " Although," it may be said, " iin])erceptible to us, creation doubtless has a termination ; and if our apprehension were greater we might calculate the animnlcuhe which swarm in the drop of water, and the stars which wander through the nebidre ;" yet even this is doubtful, it is ground for more than hypoth- esis ; we certainly dare not say that nature is not boundless in its extent. We must meas- ure objects by their ends ; and if, after tracing them accurately through a long series of pro- cessions and circumstances, we at last lose sight of them in a vast void, which no plum- met can fathom, no comjiass describe, no tel- escope scan, no chronology date, what is that but infinity? An instance is at hand : let us throw a glance over our gl.ibe's unwritten his- tory, lei us trace it through all its gradations up to the present time, and what are the con- clusions we derive from the facts ? We are conducted to a period of wild and fearful gran- deur, the reign of darkness and chaos, when the atoms were first congregating which were to form our planet, and attaired a state of fix- edness, the grosser separated from the more aerial, and thus the earth gained the first stage of its existence ; now from that period, when the thunder and clash of contending atoms, struggling with their own graviries, broke the stillness of our system, there has been a con- stant progressive development of order, and a progressive development of life on our globe : first, when our world was a vast ocean, with no land to margin its streams, we find the tril- obite and mollusc moving through the watery depths, and dwelling securely there ; the nantilutae then by thousands nxle the waves, and hoisted their sails, ay, perhaps, more proudly than in our time. The waters again subsided — our world be- came then in a more strict sense of the word than now, a terraqueous globe ; then the sau- rian tribe, those giants of *y " fell and flood, came forth to run their career-, iJiey finished it ; and then rose matchless forests, composed mi. anan* mm ■MM jmVERSK. ncc throDRh thf ntmosjihorfi 10 loss rrgunl it ns nii infinite iirimortiil in tlio l)ii(1. viewed in this liijlit tlmt the an asneet of iinbdunded nrid ; as far as the eye of intel- e, it sees mutter, and t^int f motion : and if it casts its f>s itself in a wilderness of easts its eye downvvurd it ilderni'ss of an;es ; f it ann- erit beholds it jienpled Avilh ifinitesimal, that nil ])ower |)s the win^ and Hags in the ennvev the idea of nnmher, that ])roj)erly speakini^ this the idea of boundlessness, ay bo said, "impereeptibic )ul)tless has a termination ; shetision were !;reater we c nnimalenhp which swarm 'atcr, and the stars whieh he nebulie ;" yet even this 'ound for more limn hypoth- ' dare not say that nature is ts extent. We must meas- ir ends ; and if, after tracinn; hrough n long series of pro- imstances. wo at last lose , vast void, which no phim- 10 compass describe, no tel- ironology ilnte, what is that instance is at hand : let lis ir our globe's unwritten his- it through all its gradations time, and what are the con- ; from the facts ? We are iod of wild and fearful gran- darkness and chaos, when •St congregating which were , and attained a state of fix- ■r separated from the more 3 earth gained the first stage now from that period, when clash of contending atoms, eirown gravities, broke the stem, there has been a con- levelopment of order, am! a )pment of life on our globe : irld was a Vast ocean, with its streams, we find the tril- moving through the watery lling securely there ; the thousands rode the waves, sails, ay, perhaps, more ir time. in subsided— our world be- ire strict sense of the word |ueous globe ; then the san- riants of «■> " fell and flood, their carrer-, ihey finished natehless forests, composed r" THK lJdUNDLESSNK.SS OF THE MATEIIIAL UNIVERSE. 109 of the lepidodeiidron and coriiifcrciP, where tlic r.egatlu'riiim and iliiiniiicriutn roiiined; to these succeeded our iircseiit fair green earlli, Willi ils streams iiilcrsecting vidlivs cldtheil widiTcorn. and its ciiscudcs (lushing down from innuntaiiH crowned with snow. And here man exists with a soul : never have a similar race of beings ln'fore graced the garden of our wiirid ; the world is now in the greenness of its u'lory, the freshness of its spring, and these fdcts bear out the notion that its career will be linmidless. Destined for liual condiigration it may be, but neverf(M-a funereal pile; those llami's will only pur>rn ourselves that discovery and knowledge are light, al- though they leave many additional doubts and perplexities upon the mind. The joy which rushes o\ or the spirit of the discoverer afler his long years of patient study is too irnut for him to mark : the darkness frein his discovery only stands out as it were in liold outline. Plii!osoph|.rs have' in all ages been ascrnding as ir were all inclined plane, niid every suc- ceeding age has left those of the precedinu far behind. It we may (\nyir a noble illiisinilioii from the splendid work of Professor N/llols on "The Aichil.'clnre of ihe Ileavi'nsr we miKht sii|)pose a N(n-lli Americun Indian who had been liiiried the whole of his existence in one wild wood, and hail never dreamed of ibe existence of other woods, far less of other ■lands; yet one day he arrives in the chase at the foot()f a lofty mounlaiii, he ascends it, and he finds fresh scenes of green i;lory iiisli- ! iiig on his eye; he sees forests stretching nil j around hiin. and wild streams (laiicin<; iTiiiid : valleys of which he had never drenmcd before; and he stares, and starts with wonder ! and ama/e. Yet we know that he has seen I nothing, and that whn' '-is eyethou;;lit so vast j was but a mere sp- .-'• in "the circle of the I worid. And are wt /loi rcali/inir the wonder j of the Indian every ilay? What are our proud oliservntioiis Imt rising knolls (ar<> they so much ill the universe ?) whence we can descry here a stream and there a stream ; l;«;re a forest ami there a forest, while tlie vast and sounding ocean, and the mountain (diain, and nature's more attractive glories are hid from our eye ? We said they were hid from our ey^e; but sujipose that we were able to per- ceiyn all, would not the very vastitude by which we were surncmded when made .so manifest become painful ? If our eyes were so opened that wc could see the atmosphere which w(! inhaled or exhaled, crowded with animal existences; the wot^er we drank teem- ing with life ; if wc saw that at every step we took we crushed millions of insects, would mit our position be horrible? should wc not loathe (uirselves and loathe the worid ? Phi- losophers would not then see the wisdom in the economy of crei^. ion which they now .see ; an awful blindness would settle on the eyes- and only would they wake to create a shud- der at the horrible forms by which they saw them.selves surrounded. An idea somelhin'r like this seemed to have flitted across the mas- culine mind of that prince of novelists, Bul- wer. Ill his ArasmaiK s, an allegorical tale, in the second volume of the Student, he rep- resents his hero as having his eyes thus opened : first to beauty, and second to deform- ity. The baronet stated that it originated not altogether in fiction, but from a melancholy case of hypochondriasis which came under his own observation in Italy. The [latient, a mini of genius and a philosopher, expired under ihe impression that he was surrounded l)y lif^ in k'UnliKi' t JiffiilgBTflWit. 110 THE BOUNDLESSNESS OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. its most horrible forms, entrrini; into the at- mos|)]icrc he inhaled, and mingling with every cirrntnstnnce of his life. Hut what is the universe? Is it suffidrnt to dt'srribe it as the area of creation — the theatre where God works his manifest marvels in the eyes of all intelligences ? The universe is an invisible world; it is haunted through all its extent with thinijs of life; and ('ouhtless there are eyes which see ihem better than onrs. What are the views which 0|)en to the inhnbitants of the planets? these moons and satellites, what a boundless theme for con- jpfturt, the varied characters, fcelinjis, and eniiitions, of the dwellers on those immense bodies which roll so far beyond us; but the scene from the smallest, namely, the moon, must be most inferestino; to ourselves. The earth, to the inhnbitinits of that body, must seem the most splendid orl) in the vast fichl of creation, with a surface thirteen times larger than she appears to us. They can plainly distingixish our seas, ajiparcntly un- ruffled by stonns. They can behold our im- mense mountains and caverns, and glory in the splendor reflected from our ])lanet, as wo joy in the pple rays emitted from theirs. The universe is boundless. There are many, doubtless, who will think we have laid d(;wn an axiom, but by no means logically or mathematically i)roved it; and perhaps this arises greatly ftom the fact that there seems no necessity to do so. Wliy labor out an elaborate essay to prove what every school- boy believed, that boundlessly wo are sur- rounded by evidences of mind. Let the moon be no larger than the shields of our sires, the stars but insignificant somethings which ap- pear to gem the vault of night, and even then the universe to us is boundless ; but tell lis of laws which rule those stars ; tell us that the sun is one million of times larger than the earth, and that the nearest of those twinkling stars, which seem so small, is thirty-two mil- lions of millions of miles distant, and the frame is paraly/ed at its own insignificancy. The ga/er tunis from the mighty orbs, wheel- ing their ponderous forms through space, and shudders and shrinks within himself, horrified at his own puerility in the eves of the mighty Architect. Nay, O man ! shrink nor shudder not ; thou art second only to those august and majestic fires, whieh flash in majesty and roll in might through nature's gloom. Nay, O man ! thou art more. Oi thy brow is the stamp of eternity, for thou art the image of thy maker, God ; and though the stars per- form in gi'andeur their motions, and sweetly sing as they wheel onward ii. their spheres, thou art more curiously wrought than thej', and thy life more curiously sustained than theirs. The hand which first launched them away ; the finger which first gave to them their unalterable law, has never touched them Jiince ; they have but one principle to govern them, but one law to guide. fJut thou, O man ! art thy Maker's master-piece. Every gland, every bone, every muscle, attests a special design worthy of a (lod ; nor canst thou breathe unless sixty billions of separate intentions )iut forth their energies. Th(m art greater than a star, () man ! Boundless immensity ! whither am T car- ried 1 where is the mighty goal, the destina- tion of these awful travellings? Stars can not tell ; onward they sweep in matchless myriads, and the gleams reflected on thoir surface tell of stars beyond them. They are not the goal of bouinllessness. Waves can not t<'ll ; they roll, and dash, and roar, they ripple at our feet, or thunder on our vessel — images of eteniity — they can not tell ; we see neither their beginning nor their end. — They are aot the goal of boundlessness. Winds ! micb'^v winds! harpers of the mount, and the forest, and the glen, ye shall tell ; for often are yc silent, and ye wake no response around ye. No, the winds can not tell ; some leaf is always monng, some breeze is always sigh- ing, some tempest is always swelling, to indi- cate their restless activity, to spcnk the prcs- encetjf their power. Winds can not tell; — they are not the goal of boundlessness ; and naught in nature can tell, for all is action, all is boundless. No eye hath ever been blinded by the darkness of that part of space where God is not in his works. A void in the uni- verse ! it would be ot once to say that Deity had expended his machinery, that there wos a void in the Divine Mind. Let us allow that there are parts of space unpeopled with the creations of intelligence, and by a very slow process of reasoning, we may reduce the jilenipotency which arms the Eternal, to the weakness and imperfection which mark the creature. We can form no conception of De- ity, but we know that the majesty of his power has crowded all space with the mighty configurations of his glory. A boundless uni- verse ! then there is no such being as an athe- ist ; and here we take up the beautiful idea of that first of modem classical essayists, John Foster, in his important essay on iho dearth of Christianity among men of genin* He reasons thus : How can men deny the ct istence of a Deity unless they have travwlle* through all space to discover whether he might not have revealed himself ? Every record of all time, of every land, must be laid open be- fore the atheist ; every planet and star must unfold its history; and if there be other bodies far ofTin space, governed not by plane- tary law, and neither planets nor stars, but in- habited by intelligences, their history must be I UNIVERSE. ^r which first gavn to tlicm law, lias never touclied thciii 3 but one principle to govern aw to guide. fJiit thou, O iiker's niustcr-piece. Every tic, every muscle, attests a 'orthy of a (iod ; nor canst ess sixty billions of separate 'til their energies. Thou art ar, () mail ! nensity ! whither am I car- he mighty goal, the destinn- I'ful travellings? Stars can il they sweep in matchless c gleams reflected on their [irs beyond them. They are bounillessness. Waves can 11, and clash, and roar, they :, or thunder on our vessel — y — they can not tell ; we see inning nor their end. — They of boundlessness. Winds I harpers of the mount, and e glen, ye shall tell ; for often I ye wake no response around nds can not tell ; some leaf is some breeze is always sigh- it is always swelling, to indi- s activity, to spenk the prcs- wi'T, Winds can not tell ; — 3 goal of boundlessness ; and can tell, for all is action, all eye hath ever been blinded of that part of space where 1 works. A void in the uni- bc at once to say that Deity s machinery, that there was )ivine Mind. Let us allow irts of space unpeopled with intelligence, and by a very easoning, we may reduce the ich arms the Eternal, to the nperfection which mark the :an form no conception of De- ■>\v that the majesty of his led all space with the mighty his glory. A boundless um- 5 is no such being as an athe- e take up the beautiful idea modem classical essayists, his important essay on iho ianity among men of genin* : How can men deny the et ty unless they have trav>"lte« : to discover whether he mi-jht d himself ? Every record of y land, must be laid open bc- every planet and star must ry; and if there be other space, governed not by plare- itlier planets nor stars, but in- igences, their history must be COD-FISHING. Ill known too ; and until he knows this, and has iupiired at nil these places, whether Deity has never been known to reveal himself, he is not at liberty to suy there is no (Jod. This idea has been ijcirrowf d and curried out by Doctor Chahners, in his Bridgewater Treatise. But oh ! why should we travel so fur when liound- lessiiess breathes all around, and that bound- lessness loused by (toil. Boundlessness is written in letters of lightning on the black thunder-cloud — we know not whence it eoin- eth nor whither it goeth ; boundlessness on the petals of tlu^ flower bowing on its ealvx ; mvriud veins defy the mi;st intense in rroscopic ken ; boundlessness in the colors ("f the rain- bow, the fires of the aurora, the insect and the animal trilie, with all their train. The universf! in all tlu; extent of its creation, teems with boundlessness, and that because God himself is boundless. COD-FISHING. Although I had seen, as I thought, abun- dance offish along the coasts of the F'loridas, the numbers whi<'h I found in Labrador (piite astonished me. Shonlil your sur|)rise, while reading the following statements be as gnmt as mine was, while observing the facts related, you will conclude, as I have often dime, that Nature's means for providing small animals for the use of larger ones, and vice versa, are as am[)le as is the grandeur of that world which he has so curiously constructed. The coast of Labrador is visited by Eu- ropean as well as American fishermen, all of whom are, I believe, entitled to claim portions of fishing-ground, assigned to each nation by mutual understanding. For the present, how- ever, I shall confine my observations to those of our own country, who, after all, are )>roba- bly the most numerous. The citizens of Bos- ton, and many other of our eastern seaports, are those who chiefly engage in this depart- ment of our commerce. Eastport, in Maine, sends out every year a goodly fleet of schoon- ers and " pickaxes" to Labrador, to procure cod, mackerel, halibut, and sometimes her- ring, the latter being caught in the interme- diate space. The vessels from that port, and others in Maine and Massachusetts, sail as soon as the warmth of spring has freed the gulf of ice, that is, from the beginning of May to that of June. A vessel of one hundred tons or so, is pro- vided with a crew of twelve men, who are equally expert as sailors and fishers, and for every cou])le of these hardy tars, a Hampton boat is provided, which is lashed rn the deck, or hung ill stays. Their jirovision is simple, hut of good ipialitv. and it is very seldom that any sjiirits are alfowed ; beef, pork, and bis- cuit, with water, being all they take with them. The men are sujiplied with warm clothing, water-proof oiled jackets and trou- s<'rs, large boots, broad-bri«imed hats with a round crown, and stout mittens, with a few shirts. The owner or captain furnishes them with lines, hooks, and nets, and also provides till' bnit best adapted to insure success. The hold of the vessel is filled with ^ asks of va- rious dimensions, some containing salt, and otlii'rs for the oil that may be procured. The bait generally sed at the beginning of the season, consists of mupclcs salted f )r the purpose; but as soon as the capclings reach the cousi, they are substituted to save exjiense ; anil in many instances, the flesh of gannets and other sea-fowls is emj)loyed. The wages of fishermen vary from sixteen to thirty (lol- Inrs per month, according to the qualifications of the individual. The labor of these men is excessively hard, for, unless on Sunday, their allowance of rest in the twenty-four hours, seldom exceeds three. The cook is the only person who fares better in this respect, but he must also assist in curing the fish. Hebe 'eakfast, consist- ing of coflee. bread, and at, ready liir the cajitain and the whole ' every morning, excep' ))er^;on carries with I cooked, which is commonly eaten on the fish' ing-grounds. Thus, at three in the morning, the crew are jirepared for their day's labor, and ready to betake themselves to their boats, each of which has two oars and lugsails. They all de- part at once, and either by rowing or sailing, reach the banks to %vhich the fishes are known to resort. The little 8(iuadron drop their anchors at short distances from each other, in a depth of from ten to twenty feet, and the business is immediately commenced. Each man has two lines, and each stands in one end of the boat, the middle of which is boarded off to hold the fish. The baited lines have been dropped into the water, one on each side of the boat ; their leads have reached the bottom, a fish has token the hook, and after giving the line a slight jeik, the fisherman hauls up his prize with a continued pull, throws the fish athwart a small round bar of iron ]ilaced near his back, which forces open the mouth, while the weight of the body, however small the fish may be, tears out the hook. The bait is still goo' ^■*i.;ti '%W'' s— «-in 11,.,. I 112 CODFISIIINO. fislicr busily plyino; nt each ond, thn onrration is cmtimu'.l uiitilllif txmt is so Ind.n, lluit licr gunwale is luouglit williiu a fi>w inches of tiio surface, when they rntuni to th.- ves- sel ill luirlior, si^Moni distant more than eight miles tVoiii the hunks. DuriiiL: the greater jinrt of the day, the fislienrieii have kept up a constant conversa- tion, of which the topics nre the pleasure of tiniliiig a good supply of cod, their di>inestic alVairs" the jiolitical jirospects of the nation, anil other matters similarly connected. Now the repartee of one elicits a laugh from the other; this passes from man to man, and the whole jlolilla enjoy the joke. The men of one boat strive io outdo those of the others m hauling up the greatest (luautity of fish in a given time, and 'this forms another source of merriment. The bouts arc generally filled about the same time, and all return together. Arrived at the vessel, each man employs a pole anned with a bent iron, resembling the prong of a hay-fork, with which he pierces the fish, ami throws it with a jerk on deck, counting the number thus discharged, with a loud voice. Each cargo is thus safely depos- ited, and the boats instantly return to the fish- ing-ground, when, after anchoring, the men ea't 'their dinner and begin anew. There, good reader, with your leave, I \yill let them pursue their avocations for awhile, as I am anxious that you should witness what is doing on board the vessel. The captain, four men, and the cook, have, in the course of the morning, erected long tables fore and aft the main hatchway, tbcy have taken to the shore most of the salt-bar- ri'ls, and have placed in a row their large empty casks, to receive the livers. The hold of the vessel is quite clear, except a comer where there is a large heap of salt. And now the men, having dined precisely at twelve, are ready with their large knives. One be- gins with breaking off the head of the fish, a slight pull of the hand and a gash with the knife eflecting this in a moment. He slits up its belly, with one hand pushes it aside to his neighbor, then throws overboard the head, and begins to prepare another. The next man tears out the entrails, separates the liver, which he throws into a cask, and casts the rest overboard. A third perwin dexterpusly passes his knife beneath the vertebras of the fish, separates them from the flesh, heaves the latter through the hatchway, and the for- mer into the water. Now, if vou will peep into the hold, you will see the'loist stage of the process, the salt- ing and packing. Six experienced men gen- erally manage to head, gut, bone, salt, and pack", all the fish caught in the morning, by the return of the boats with fresh cargoes, I when oil hands set to work, and clear the deck ' of the lisli. Tims their labors rouliiiue until ' twelve o'clock, when they wash their faces I and hands, jnit on dean chithes, hang their fishing-apparel on the shronds, and. betaking thems(lves to the foreco-stle, arc soon in a sound sleep. At three, next morning, comes the captain from his berth, rul)bing his eves, anil in a loud voice calling : " All hinds, ahoy !" Stitli'ned in limb, and but half awake, the crew ipiickly appear on the deck. Their fingers and Ininils are so cramped and swollen by pulling the lines, that it is ditlicult for them to straighten even a thumb ; but this matters little at pres- ent ; for th(! coelv, who had a good nap yes- terday, has risen an hour before them, and l)repared tlieir coffee ond eatables. Breakfast desjiatched. they exchange their clean clothes for the fishing-apparel, and leap into their boots, which had been ^. ■'shed the previous night, and again the flotilta bounds to the fishing-ground. As there may be not less than a hundred scliooners or pickaxes in the harbor, three hundred boats resort to the banks each day; and, as each boat may procure two thousand cods per diem, when Saturday night comes, about six hundred thousand fishes have been brought to the harbor. This having caused some scarcity on the fishing-grounds, and Sunday being somewhat of an idle day, the captain collects the salt ashore, and sets sail for some other convenient harbor, which he expects to reach long before sunset. If the weather he favorable, the men get a good deal of rest during the voyage, and on Monday things go on as before. I must not omit to tell yon, reader, that while proceeding from one harbor to another, the vessel has passed near a rock, which is the breeding-place of myriads of puffins, j She hos laid to for an hour or so, while i)ort of the crew have landed, and collected a store of eggs, excellent as a substitute for croom, and not less so when hard boiled, as food for the fishing-grounds. I may as well inform you, also, how these ad/enturous fellows dis- tinguish the fresh eggs from the others. They fill up some large tubs \vith water, throw in a (luantity of eggs, a/id allow them to remain a minute or so, when those which come to the surface are tossed overboard, ond even those that manifest any upward tendency, share the same treatment. All that remrin at bot- tom, you may dejiend upon it, g(K)d reader, are perfectly sound, and not less palatable than any that you have ever eaten, or that your best guinea-fowl has just dropped in your barn-yard. But let us return to the cod-fish. The fish olready procured and salted, is 1 t»ken ashore at the new harbor, by part of ::^c «i\M,*BiSW.-J.Tn;, ji«5a(SS.»B3SSE!S&T!«BOS iCls .v&it ifVo^ViV^ ""^^•tlf^"*. \ work, nnd dear tlie dcrk heir lulinrs rdiitiiiiic until ri tlit'v wiisli tlicir fnces •lean rldthes, hnri!; thiir 10 sliroiiils, nr.d, lictakiii!; breciustle, arc soon in a rnin?, comes the captain iii{ liis fvfs, nnd in a loud 111 nils, ulioy !" .Stilli'ncil ' uwnkp, tin- cri.'w (|ui(,-kly Tlipir RnjioR nnd hands I swollen by pullinj; tlic ult for thcni to straiijhtcn this matters little at prcs- who h.nd a gooil nap yes- n hour before them, nnd nnd eatables. Breakfast change their clean clothes arel, and leap into their pen ^.-'shed the previous he JlolUla bounds to the not less than n hundred xes in the harbor, three sort to the banks each I boat may procure two iem, when Saturday night ndred thousand fishes have lie harbor. This having ty on the fishing-gniunds, somewhat of an idle day, ! the salt ashore, and sets convenient harbor, which long before sunset. If the le, the men get a good deal voyage, and on Monday ire. ; to tell yon, reader, that •om one harbor to another, sed near a rock, which is 3 of myriads of puffins. an hour or so, while part inded, and collected a store as a substitute for cream, en hard boiled, as food for s. I may as well inform se adventurous fellows dis- ggs from the others. They :ubs with water, throw in a i/id allow them to remain a 1 those which come to the overboard, nnd even those ' upward tendency, share It. All that remrin at bot- lend upon it, good reader, 1, anil not less palatable than e ever eaten, or that your has just dropped in your et us retnm to the cod-fish, dy procured nnd salted, is :he new harbor, by part of KINDNESS AND CENS0III0USNES8. 113 the crew, whom the captain has marked as the worKt hands at fishing. There, on the bare rocks, or on elevated scallblds of con- siderable extend, the salted cods are laid side by side to dry in the stm. They are turned several tinies a ihiy, and in the intervals the men bear a hand on board at clearing and stowing away the dnilv produce of the fishing- banks," Toward eveniiig, they return to the drying-grounds, and put up the fish in piles, resein"bliiig so many haystacks, disposing those toward the top in such a manner that the rain can not injure them, nnd jilacing a heavy stone on the summit to prevent their being thrown down should it blow hard during the night. V^ou see, reader, that the life of a Lnbrud(jr fisherman is not one of idleness. The cnpelings have approached the shores, and in myriads enter every basin and stream, to deposite theii spawn, for now July is ar- rived. The cods follow them, as the blood- hound follows his prey, and their compact masses literally line the shores. The fisher- men now adopt another method : they have brought with them long and deep seines, one end of which is, by means of a line, fastened to the shore, while the other is, in the usuol manner, drawn out in a broad sweep, to en- close as great a space as possible, and hauled on shore by means of a capstan. Some of the men in boats su])[iort the corked part of the net, and beat the water, to frighten the fishes within toward the land, while others, anned with poles, enter the water, hook the fishes, and fling them on the beach, the net being gradually drawn closer as the number of fishes diminishes. What do you think, reader, as to the number of cods secured in this manner at a single haul ?•— thirty, or thirty thousand ? You may form some notion of (lie matter when I tell you that the young gentlomeu of my (lorty while going along the shores, caught codfish alive, with their hands, and trouts, of many pounds weight, with a piece of twine and a mackerel-hook hung to their gun-rods; and that, if two of them walked knee-deep along the rocks, holding a handkerchief by the corners, they swept it full of capelings. Should you not trust me in this, I refer you to the fishermen them- selves, or recommend you to go to Labrador, where you will {^ive credit to the testimony of your eyes. The " seining" of the codfish, I believe, is not quite, lawful, for a great projwrtion of the codlings which are dragged ashore at last, are so small as to be considered useless ; and, in- stead of be'ng returned to the water, as they ought to be, are left on the shore, where they are ultimately eaten by bears, wolves, and ra- vens. The 'fishes taken along the coast, or on fishing-stations only a few miles off, are of small dimension ; and I believe 1 am correct in saying that ''jw of them weigh more than two pounds, when perfectly cured, or exceed six, when taken out of the water. Tlie fish arc liable to several diseases, and at times are annoyed by parasitic niiimals, which in a short time render them lean nnd unfit for usi'. Some individuals, from laziness, or other causes, fish with naked hooks, and thus fre- quently wound the cod without securing them, in consetiuence of which, the shoals are driven away, to the detriment of the other fishers. Some carry their cargoes to other parts before drying them, while others dispose t)f them to agents from distant shores. Some have only a pickaxe of fifty tons, while others are own- ers of seven or eight vessels of c(|nnl or larger burden ; but whatever be their means, should the season prove favorable, they are generally well repaid for their labor. I have known instances of men, who, on their first voyage, ranked as "boys," and in ten years after were in independent circumstances, although they still contintied to resort to the fishing-grounds; " For," said they to me, " how could we be content to spend our time in idleness at home ?" 1 know a person of this class, who has carried on the traffic for many years, and who has quite a little fleet of schooners, one of which, the largest and most beautifully built, has a cabin as neat and comfortable as any that I have ever seen in a vessel of the same size. This vessel took fish on board only when perfectly cured, or acted as jiilot to the rest, and now and then wouhl return home with an ample supply of halibut, or a cargo of prime mackerel. Auduboa. KINDNESS AND CENSORIOUSNESS. Observation shows that those persons who indulge most in a fault-finding, bitter spirit, always have the most faults of charac- ter themselves, and are the most deficient in excellent virtues. A censorious, bitter per- son, is apt to be one of a narrow and |)reju- diced mind, not liberalized by extensive ac- quaintance with men or things, and generally self-conceited, contemptuous, and positive, just in proportion to his own littleness of irind and personal unworthiness. A truly great mind, or a great heart, is never contemptuous or scornful, or bitter against others, but has always too much knowledge or too much goodness for that, or both, and too intimate an acquaintance with self and personal frailties, to allow of the tongue s dwelling censoriously upon the faults of others. When Goethe was already an old man, he kb. **•>. .. f*""l)H!' 114 THE HAMMER. said : " As I prow old, I becomo more Iniicnt to the sins of frail liurnniiity. The man wlin loudly di'iiouncos, I alwiiya suspect. 1I<- knows too much of crime, who dciiouncos ii fellow-crciiturc unhciird— n knowlcdjjc which cnn only bo obtained by criminality itsclt. The hyjiocrite olway.s strives to divert atten- tion from his own w'lckedness, by denonnciiij; uns|)«rin<:ly that of others. He thinks he shall seem pood, in exact ratio as he itinkes others s.ciu bad." We may treasure up such remarks of the follies or vices of our neighbors as may be a constant guard against our jirac- tice of the same, without exposing the reputa- tion of our neighbor on that accotmt. Those who are truly kind and noble by na- ture, like the tndv modest and pure, are most likely to think others so likewise ; whereas, the naturally mean, vulgar, and immodest, are apt to charge others with being so, just in ])ro- portioii as all that they have of nobility or mndestv is counterfeit. They seem to forget that while to the pure all things are i)ure, the calling of attention to an immodest thing or speech is far more immodest than the thing itself, and that commenting upoti an indelicacy and so innking it noticeable, is itself the most highly indelicate. It is an old ))roverb, that whom you injure vou hate, and it is indeed true that a man is far more likely to become an enemy to one who'm he has injured, than to one that has in- jured him. So, to be seen by another in a humiliating position, or in a fit of ill tenifier or sensuality, will ever after make thot j)erson an enemv to the one that is so unfortunate as to have'l)cen a witness to his weakness or misconduct, such is the vice of human nature, as exhibited in some characters. On this principle it is that Borrow says of Portugal, in his book entitled " The Bible in Spain," that " the English, who were never at war with Porttigal, who have fought for its independence on land and sea. and 8(iuan- dered bl(X)d and treasure in its defence, and always with success ; who have forced them- selves, by a treaty of commerce, to drink its coarse and filthy wines, which no other nation cares to taste, are the most unj)0)iular peo])le thot visit Portugal. The French have rav- aged the country with fire and sword, and shed the blood of its sons like water; the French will not buy its fruits, and they loathe its wines, yet there" is no bad spirit in Portugal toward the French. The reason of this is no mystery ; it is the nature, not of the Por- tuguese only, but of corrupt and unregenerate man, to dislike his benefoctors, who, by con- ferring benefits u|)on him, mortify in the most generous maiirier his miserable vanity. There 18 no country in which the English ore so pop- ular as in France; but though the French have been freiiueiitly roughly handled by the English, anil h.ive seen their cajHtal occupied by an English army, they have never been subjected to the ignominy of receiving assist- ance from them." There is both pmlosoiihy and truth to nature in this, as api)licable to the relations of nations as of individuals. THE HAMMER. TiiK hammer is the universal emblem of mechanics. With it are alike forged the sword of contention, and the ploughshare of peaceful agriculture, the press of the free, and the shackle of the slave. The eloiptence of the forum has moved the armies of Greece and Rome to a thousand battle-fields, but the eloijuence of the hummer has covered those fields with victory or defeat. The insinration of song has kindled n\i high hopes and noble aspirations in the Ixisoms of brave knights and gentle dames, but the inspiration of the hammer has strewn thv. field with tattered helm and shield, decided not only the fate of chivalric combat, but the fate t)f thrones, crowns, and kingdoms. The forging of thun- derbolts was ascribed by the Greeks as the highest act of Jove's omnipotence, and their mythology beautifully ascrilies to one of tlieir go"ds the task of presiding at the labors of the forge. In ancient warfare, the hammer was a powerful weapon, independent of the blade which it formed. Many a stout scull was broken through the cap and helm by a blow of Vulcan's weapon. The aniiies of the Crescent would have subdued Europe to the sway of Mohammed, but on the jihiins of France their progress was arrested, and the brave and simjilc warrior who saved Christen- dom from the sway of the Mussulman was named Martel — " the hammer." How sim- ple, how oppropriate, how grand — " the ham- mer." The hammer is the savior and bul- wark of Christendom. The hammer is the wealth of nations. By it are forged the pon- derous engine and the tiny needle. It is on instrument of the savage 'and the civilized. Its merry clink points out the abode of indus- try — it is a domestic ditty, presiding over the grandeur of the most wealthy and ambitious, as well as the humble and impoverished. Not a stick is shaped, not a house is raised, a ship floats, or carriage rolls, a wheel spins, an engine moves, a press speaks, a viol sings, a spade delves or a flag waves, without the ham- mer. Without the hammer civilization would be unknown, and the human species only as defenceless brutes, but in skilful hands, di- rected by wisdom, it is an instrument of power, of greatness, and true glory. IIWMWllWllllf . fmmms^^ Iv roughly hnndletl by tlir- ipcn thoir" capital occupieil ly, they have never lieen lominy'of receiving assist- There is both puilosophy c in this, OS applicable to lions OS of individuals. HAMMER. the universal emblem of I it are alike forced the n, and the ploughshare of re, the jircss of the free, the slave. The ehMpicnce loved the armies of Greece usand battle-fields, but the hammer has covered those or defeat. The iiisjiiration :d U)) high hojjcs and noble lx)soms of brave knights , but the inspiration of tlie vn the field with tattered ecided not otdy the fate of but the fate of thrones, oms. The for£;:inir of thun- ibed by the Greeks as the 'e's om'ni))oteiice, and their "ully ascribes to one of tlnir iresiding at the labors of the ; warfare, the hammer was n, independent of ihe blade Many a stout scull was ie cap and helm by a blov j ])on. The annies of the i lave subdued E>irope to the Tied, but on the jdains of ;res8 was arrested, and the .varrior who saved Christen- ■uv of the Mussulman was ■ the hammer." How sim- luto, how grand — " the ham- iTiier is the savior and bul- dorn. The hammer is the . By it are forged the pon- d the tiny neeille. It is an B savage "and the civilized. nints out the abode of indus- »tie ditty, presiding over the iiost wealthy and ambitious, humble and impoverished, iped, not a house is raised, a riage rolls, a wheel spins, an press speaks, a viol sings, a flag waves, without the ham- le hommer civilization would the human sjiecies only as 38. but in skilful hands, di- m, it 18 an instrument of ess, and true glory. USE OF ELEPHANTS IN WAE. USE OF ELEPHANTS IN WAR. The military history of elephants com- metices with the invasion of India by Alex- ander the Great ; the battle fought by Poms is the first well-authenticated account of their use in war. Thenceforward we find thern used by the successors of Alexander, partic- ularly the Ptolemies and the SeleucidiE. An- tipater introduced them into Greece, and Pyrrhus transported them into Italy. The elej)hants used by these princes were of the Asiatic race {Eleplias Indicus of Cuvier), but the Carthagenians and Numidians about the commencement of the Punic wars, began to make a similar use of the African elephant (Elephas Capensh of Cuvier), which differs from the o.her, by having less size, weight, and strength, but longer ears and tusks. What may be called the military qualifica- tions of the elephant, are his size, his strength, his docility, his jKiv/er of swimming, and the toughness of his skin, which in most places was impenetrable to the weapons of ancient warfare. It must, however, be observed, that the strength of the elephant, though great, is not at all projiortionato to his magnitude. The ordinary pictures of ancient battles, in which elephants are represented bearing huge towers, crowded with armed men, are ludi- crous exaggerations ; the most that the animal could carry is a houdah with from four to six persons, . and even this weight could not be sustained on a long march ; the houdah was expressed by a Greek word which literally signifies "a little cuiras," but is sometimes used by military writers for the hurdles or wicker work employed in the constniction of field-works. The passage of Silius Italicus, which has led to the exaggerated notion of these towers is merely descriptive of the ex- 116 U8K OF ELEPHANTS IN WAR. cessivo alarm wliicli would bo excited in an iiriuy scuiiig such a spectacle for the first tiini' : — '' HIkIi nil liU liiK'li till! mililii'm hrw, amazed, Kiiilialtli'il towi'i'H mill lliri^iili'iiiiiK fiirtii u|irai(i«il; Till' |iiiiiiii'li"<, a'^i'i'ijiliiii,' C(i llie t'loniU. SliakuHHliu iiiiivuHaiiil tliiuat to crush the rrowila." I'unica, ix. This is just, such nn exajijjpration as wn liiiil ill the IliiKiiio piH'in troiislatcd iiy Wil- kiiis ill till- Asiatii; roscarches: " Hisch'phants miivfil iiitc walitins luoniitiiiiis, ami the earth, oppressed by their weight, crumbled into dust." M. Arinandi, in his work on " The Military History of Klephnnls," to which we are in- debted for iinudi of the infonnation contained in this article, justly remarits that elephants anil war-chariots were used in ancient warfare for jmrposes analogous to parks of artillery in modern times. In tiie battle of the Hydas- pes, I'onis employed his ele|)haiits to cover his centre and left win";, believing that his rii;ht was sullicieiitly jiroteeted by the river. According: to I'olyciius he committed the fatal error of phicin;^ his elephants so close together, that they prevented him from making any change in his lines ; consequently, when Ge- nus charged through his right wing, and at- tacked his centre in flank and rear, the In- dians, kept liaek by the 'dcphants in front, and pressed hard by Genus in the rear, became a helpless mass of confusion. Porus tried to remedy this disaster by ordering his elejihants to charge the phalanx which fonned the Ma- cedonian centre ; init the Greeks having room to mnninuvre, attacked each elephant with a separate detachment of light troops, Alexander having selected picked men, armed with sharp axes and crookeil swords for the purpose, who were taught to aim at the trunks and throats of the elephants. The animals were finally driven back, and thus any new formation of the Indian lines was effectually prevented. In this instance, then, it may be said that these cumiirous animals caused the defeat of the In- dian army, iiy rendering its lines immoveable, after they hud been once formed. Elephants being used as a covering force, were usually stationed in the front of the lines, the intervals between them being occu- jiied by divisions of light troops, who had to prevent the enemy from ttirningthe elephants back upon their own ranks. Some leaders were so much afraid of the elephants being turned that they kept these animals in reserve, and only brought them up to turn the doubtful scale of victory. It was thus that Pyrrhus won the battle of Heraclea. The Roman cav- alry were cutting lanes through his columns when he brought up the elephants ; the Latin horses were more frightened than their riders ; at the unusual sight, the squadrons fell back on' the legions, and threw tlii'tn into disorder, j Pyrrhtis seized ihedccisivt-momcnt to cliuri;e j at the heiid of liis Tbessaliun cavalry, "and the rod field was won." A curious circiiinstatice corroborates ilio assertion of Florns, that (dcpbanls were j 'e- viously unknown to the Ronii'iis; they calir.l the animals " Lucaniaii oxen," the battle hav- ing been fought in Lucania, and this was the name usually given to the clcplmiii Iiy Liiiin writers, down to the Augustan age. The biit- j tie of Asculum was rcmarkalile for two cir- I cumstances, which have been omitteii by I nearly all the modern writers of I{(iniun his- i tory : the legionaries liad so fur ricoMrcd , from their fear of elephiints, iliat a ceiiliirion, named Minucius, attacked one of these lii^a- fs single-handed, and cut ofl" a large portion of his trunk. The second incident is that the ' Romans borrowed war-chariots fnmi the (Jiuils as a counterpoise to the elephants of J^vnlius, but never used them exccjit in this battle. Minucius was not the only hero who ven- tured singly against nn t Icphant ; a more no- ble instance of devoted lieroisni is recorded in the history of the Maccabees, at the baffle of Beth/.acharias : " Eleazar. siirnamed Savaran, ])(;rceiving that one of the beasts, armed with royal harness, was higher than the rest, and supposing that the king was upon him, jiut himself in jeopardy, to the end he might de- liver his people, and get him a jierpetual name ; wherefore he ran u])on him courage- ously through the midst of the battle, slay- ing on the right hand and on the left, so that they were dividcul from him on both sides, which done he crept under the elejihant, and thnist him under, andslewhim, whereujion the elephant fell down u])on hiin, and there he died." — 1 Mac. vi., 43-4G. On this narrative it may be remarked, that the words rendered " roya'. harness," properly signifies " a royal houdah ;" and that the thirty-two men saiil in a preceding verse to be united with the mahout in the charge of each elephant, include not only the warriors in the tower, but also the soldiers who had the charge of protecting the unwieldy animals from the skirmishers and light troops of the enemy. Pyrrhus was indebted to his elephants for his victory at Heraclea, but these same ani- mals caused his utter ruin in the battle of Beneventum. Curius Denfatus had trained a body of archers to shower burning nrniws on these animals, which sticking in their flesh, burned through their thick skins, and drove them mad with pain. No animal is more ferociously destructive than an infuriated elephant ; even in the domesticated state, they are known to be gratified with carnage, and hence they have been frequently employed as -5=qr- , the Rciuuilron!* W] Imck lirt'w tlii'in into (lisiirilcr, I'cisivmnomriit lo cIiuijjr Micssiirmii cavulry, " and 11." istiiiicf! corrobiirnfrM tho flint ('lr|)Iiaiits were j 'C- the Roni'ilis ; llwy <'alh ,| inn oxen," tlic Imlllc liiiv- jiiciiiiiii, (Mill lliis wri-* tlio to the clcliliiiiit 1)V Liitiii (\ii;;iisliiii iij.'c. Tlic liiit- rcirmrkalili' fur twn cir- luivc l)C(!ii (iiiiilli'd liy n writers of Hoiimn liis- s Imd so (ur ncDVcrcd plmiits, llmt a cciitiirion, ickcil one ot llicsc hcn'ts ut oil" a Iar;;c |)(iilioii of •Olid incidi'iit is tliitt tlio ir-clmriot-*IVoiii ilic (Jnuls he ('lcf)liaiits of Pyrihns, exccjit in tliis hiittlp. thr only hero who vcn- 111 tlrphant ; q more no- (m1 hcmisin is rccordrd in icnalifos, nt thf linttle of ■nzar, siirriamod Siivuinn, if tlif hensts, nmicd with iif,'licr than the rest, and [ing was ii|)oii him, jiiit to the end ho mijjlit dc- id pet him a jierpetual ran u])ori liim courafje- lidst of the battle, slny- 1 and on the left, so that Vnni him on both sides, under the elejihant, nnd slew him, whereujion the ijion him, nnd there he ti-iC). On this narrative that the words rendered nperly signifies " a royal 10 thirty-two men saiti in le united with the mahout ;h elephant, include not the tower, but also the charge of protecting the om the skirmishers and lemy. bted to his elephants for lea, but those same ani- er ruin in the battle of IS .Dcntattis had trained I shower burning anows i\-hich sticking in their h their thick skins, and th pain. No animal is ructive than an infuriated : domesticated state, they tified with carnage, and 1 frequently employed as "far 'i''^i''i"i' ". i ' . l.ii USK OK ELEPHANTS IN WAft. 117 Elephants destroying Captives taken in War, executioners by the despots of the East. One of the Epirote elephants, furious from pain, shook oil' his driver, and rushing back upon the phalanx which Pyrrhus hail fonned with closer ranks than usual, crushed and de- stroyed a great number of soldiers before any remedy cimld be found for such u disaster. Oil a ])revious occasion the delight of the ele- "jihaiit in carnage had been fearfully (U:noii strated ; before the body of Alexander was laid in the tomb, three hundred of his bravesl comjianions were crushed to death by ele- phants, ill the presence of the entire army, by command of the regent Perdiccas. Arrian says that this sickening massacre was ren- dered the more revolting by the' trumpeting, roaring, and other signs of savage delight, whicli the animals exhibited while engaged in the work of slaughter. The military value of elephants was best tested ill the second Punic war. Hannibal attached more importance to these animals than any cotemporary general, and he cer- tainly made a more skilful use of them than any great captain of anti(|uity. At the battle near tho river Trebia, Hannibal charged and routed the Roman cavalry with his elephants ; but the infantry stood firm against these a >i- mals, ond even drov them back on the Ci' • thttgenian lines. We are told that the k\ aries were encimraged to this resistance by th' example of Fiiirenus. The incident is well told by .Silius Italicus; and as this most pro- saic of historical poets is ranly «ead by English students, we shall venture to translate tile passage : — " Fresh horrors now are added to the fight, The fcarlul elephants appear in siglit ; They gain the bunk, they rush into the stream, HiKli o'er the wave (heir spear feuped turiets gloam ; The Trebia trembles at the sudden shock, As if invaded by some mnnHtroii ' rock, Which, torn by lempoiit from si-me mountain's head, Cliukcd up the streuiii, and droM: it tVum its bed. But vnlor rises iimler adverse futc. And dangers still excite the tijiily irreat s FibienuH, only anxious that his name Sin., live recorded in tho rolls ol' I'ume, Sliouts ' Tlmuk thee, fortune ! — undfnieulh tho wave, Tliou dlilst not give me un unhoiiored f,'i'ave; My di-eds are seen, and here on land I fry What force the Human falchion can defy. Or what the monster is that must not fear The Latin javelin and Tuscan spear' Ho spoke, and eager sought some temlor part, ! Then at the monster hurled his rapid dart ; I Right to the eye tho weapon held its way I Tore through the ball, and quenched tliu v "lal ray ( . .^ I i |f4f'!-l 118 U8E OF ELEPHANTS IN WAE ■^ .Mnrnea, ..™ Army on a Murcli, wllh Eleplianti, The horrid heant wnt forth n frnrful ronr, Which echoeil wildly round tho hloiid utainfit ^'ml■e, Then, blind with rage, niid inuddenod by Uin /.aiu, llti ihruw Ilia driver helplexa on the (ilain, And Hod amain. Tlie Romnnii at the High'. Rereivc fresh courage, and renew the light ; They prt'Hi the monster with hice«iant blows, From gn|iliiK wound* hia blood in torrents flowi; Arrows and dartHaro quivering in his hide, Till one wide gush extoiida along his side ; A bustling forest on his bnrk appears. Of waving javelina and of deep-driven spears ; Worn out at last, the dreadful monster reels, And soeliM i c/insson with his blood." I'unka, iv. According t.o Polybius, whose authority is incidentnlly confirmed by Juvenal, Hunnibal lo.st all his elephants but one in this battle, and did not receive a fresh supply until after his victory at Cannae. Hanno joined hitn nt CopuB with forty elephants and four thousund Numidian cavalry, but this reinforcetnent die' not enable Hannibal to pursue his career of contiuest. He was defeated at Nola by Mar- cellu.>«, with a loss of four elephants killed, and two taken ; he met a similar loss at Gru- menlum ; two of his ele])hant8 were killed in the unsuccessful attempt to relieve Capua, and five more were slain at the battle of Cam- isiuni. At the battle of the Metaurus the elepliuats were repulsed by the pikemen of the eleventh legion, four being slain on the spot, and the rest driven biefc on the Cartha- genian lines. But the most remarkable example which can be cited of the use of elephants during this ]ieriod was presented at the battle of Za- ina, wViere Hannibal covered his line with no less than eighty of those animals. Scipio im- mediately changed the usual order of Roman lilies ; he left wide spaces like lanes between the manipuli of the legions, masking this or- rongcnient by throwing for*vurd a cloud of skirmishers and light tnwps, principally Nti- inidian cavalry furnished to them l)y Mas- sinissu. !'I«nnibol, unnoyed by the hkinnisli- ers, ordered his elephants to charge the Ko- innn lines in a body, and the skirmishers re- treated through tfle bines or I)assnge3 left open by the formation of the legionaries. The elephants pursued, atid the moment one of those animals was engaged in one of the jios- snges his doom was sealed ; on either side were the pike-men, whose serried weapons could not be beaten down, whiletlw lighttroops attackeil the animals with spears, javelins, crooked swords, and battle-axes. The chief danger arose from the cavalry ; the Italian horses could not be got to face the elephants. Seipio, however, promptly set the example of dismounting, and after a fierce strug^de the elephants were all hors de combat. Eleven of these animals were taken alive by the Ro- mans; all the rest fell in action. This battle taught the Romans the advan- tage of an open formation of the lines in a contest with elephants, and in some degree proved the inutility of these animals when sent against disciplined troops. Thencefor- ward the use of these animals in war de- clined, and they are mentioned for the last time in the military history of Rome at the battle of Thapsus, where Julius Caesar over- threw the last army of the republic and its African auxiliaries. All the accounts of this battle which we possess are so imperfect, that it is not easy to determine how Juba em- ployed his elephants; but that the victory over them was deemed very important is man- ifest from the frequent appearance of the ele- phant on the coins and medala of the Julian family. I -sam •^ Ippong, mnskinp tlii« nr- iiig fonvuril a clcuiil of troops, principally Nii- ishcil to tlicin liy Miis- nnoyod by llif> Kkinnixli- hnnt« to charfje tin; Ko- aiul the skinnislicrs re- lanP8 or passages left 1 of the legionaries. The mil the moment one of gaged in one of the pns- isenlci) ; on either side whose serried wcnjjons wn, while t ho light troojis I with spears, javelins, battle-axes. The chief 10 cavalry; the Italian ot to face the elephants. )mptly set the cxam|)Ie iter o fierce struggle the ors de combat. Eleven e taken alive by the Ro- ll in action. the Romans the ndvon- nation of the lines in a Its, and in some degree of these animals when led troops. Thencefor- Bse animals in war de- mentioned for the last history of Rome at the here Julius Cfcsar over- of the republic and its All the accounts of this issess are so imperfect, letermine how Juba em- i; but thot the victory d very important is man- it appearance of the ele- id medala of the Julian i asthonomy. 119 Tlie neglect of elephniit* in the western wiirM iifler the battle of 'Pliapiiii bi'ciime an esfiilili ;hed principle; both Ijivy aiid Arriiin speiik iif ihern as utterly cmiteinplilple fur the piirpiiHcs of war; but in the east tlic u-n' df them was revived by the prince* of the lioUMe of Sassiiii, 1111(1 tliev were eriiploved in the wars (if Imliii so lute as 177!l; Ilvdcr Ali having sent his elepluints to elmr','e the dis- ordere(| lines of the iinfiirtiniate Hiiiliie. Tn the ensfcrii wars, nut less tliiiri in those of the west, cb pliuntshiive proved iin micertiiiti and dangermis siippnrt ; thus when the Portuguese were attacked at roldinlio in loJO, the ele- phants sent ngaiii«t tlicin bv tin- Cingiilese, daunted by the lire of the lmri|ii( busses and maddened bv wnuuds, tunieil Imels upon their own lines, mul erusbcd to deiitli whole troops of unl'iirtiiiiMte isluiwbrs. Sonie of the em- i)er(irs of Delhi niountiMl Ij^lit arly history of science we know is lost. Wo 'nay trace back the record of its movements untd we see that there was a sci- ence of astronomy anterior to the earliest date wdiieh history can reach. We may then take up tradition — stepping still further back — and there again we stop and ponder upon the fact that there was a science of astronomy anterior even to tradition. Thus we are lost in the obscurity of ])ast time, and, having nothing more t;) iruide us up )n which we can rely, we must resort tn speculation. But let it be re- membered that this spectdatiim is of such a character that it is absolute certainty, and if it be properly conducted, it will lead us to re- sults entirely reliable. I shall be obliged, then, to begin with speculation. In turning the eye to the heavens, the strong prol ; ty is that noinicul iili^. r\ itions tniul body were tho»i" nmde ii|i«)n iittriicted the wiinili ritm 'i/e of everv eve — its curious and extrinirdiii;iry (dm?ii;es, anil the riipidily id' its movements, were so dillirent from those of any other heavenly body. ; Willie the sun was ever bright an I round— I while the other planets alwavs shone with n I serene and slendy light — while the (i\cd stars shed forth the same unviiryingdeLricedf -plen- I dor year after year, it was found iliut the moon was constantly chiiiigini;. On diie v\c. ning it was observed to be the slend( r silver cresci-iit. cliise beside (he sun : it wiis v\ (itched from niiilit to nii^lit, receding from a line with the sun. and increasing; in biilliiiiiev, till, finally, it was foinul to rise in the east,' in full Orb, while the sun was sinking' in the west. Tlien. ns (be ni'jhts rolled on, tlie liulit was discovered to decrease, until, when it U'.'ain came round in coniunction with the sun, it hail entirely disa))peare(|. These eluini'es were i|(iiilitle-i>i!y the first ob>*erved. Hut there was iiiiolher point w!n(di early attnicte(l the attention of man. When the !;roiiping of the stars in the heavens bud first been made — when it was seen tbiit tliev Indd invarialile re!iiti\(' positions toeiedi other, the next point was to wat(di and see if the moon held its ])lace among the stars. Here arose a most wonderful discovery. The moon did not hold its place among them. W'lnit did it do? It was found, in the next place, to bo movlnj contrary to the mo'ion of all tin; heaveidy bodies, wlii< h ap|)enred to make regular diuniid rotations. The moon was heaving upward, while at the same time it had a general dinmni motion. Here was the first disco-/<-ry ever made with regard to the movenu'iits of the ln^avenlv bodies. For a long time it must have been a matter of jierplexity whether this niotifiti of the moon was real, or was occasioned bv the fact that the whole sidereal heavens were swee|)- ing past the moon. Hi)w is it p;)ssil)le to de- termine thisipiestion ? If they had only this object to examine and no other moving bodies were found, then would it have been i:npos- aiblc to have settled thetpiestion whether this motion actuady belonged to this object alone, or whether the whole sjdiere of stars wdieeled round more rapidiy than the moon. But after a little while they found that the sun in like monner jiartook of a similar motion. They watched the s.'tting Kun. How ninny of us have done the same thing, for the like purpose ? They saw certain bright stars first making their appearance, n])parently near the sun, as it sunk to rest. Night after night they watched, and found to their astonishment that these broad groups of stats ware coming down- liii! 1 ■. '■! ; ■ * » re - M '*♦■ ii 120 ASTUONOMY. wiird rotnopt tho «un, and ot every »UPfe»iii«ive •Iftv llicv were ricnrcr nnil iirmrr tlinf Inmin- nry, 'Pin- huh \h hcnviiip tipwiinl, Nuiil tlicy, ro iM'Tt itii' Htiir«, n* tiny iiri' Kiiikiinj dnwn uimIit till' liitri/iin ; nnil iiMiiinnrli tm tluH |ilii'- iKirmviDii dill imf diUrr t'niin ihiit ofllic iiniini, it sc €i'd till' lpl(•^^tillIl lit orici' mid for ever, tlint iTf '4 iniitiiiti of llic iiiHiiti niid tin- kiiii wiim rciillyiiino Hi'iiMc liclonyiim; to tln' lii'iivcMly iMidicH (ittiiiiii; wliicll tlicy n|i|i(iirrd to lie Iti- ctltC'I. Ili'rr, then, \V(»m n Hrcnnd i;riiiid dis- co* rrv — iln' iiinvi incut of tlic sun. Rill lis tlicy ciintiiiui'd tlii'si' exniniimtiiHis tlicv Imd iiccii>ii(m to ndVr tlii' sun to n vcrv briliiniit lii'iiiitifiil stiir, tlmt wns foimd to lie visililr to tlii'hi itftrr the sun's sfttin^. This wns rcanrdril iis ii (i\ril star 111110111; the rest ; lint, hy continuous cxniiiiniitiori. it was foiind this slur wii^ inov ins; downward to inrct the sun. It did not hold its pliict' ainiiii'^ tlic rest. What could III' the iiii'iiniii!.' of this ,' lie who (irsf li\cd hiscyn ciiiiiprrliiMdiiii;lv upon this oliji'ct, how intt'tisc must have liccn his finotions I What is this, hitherto reiianled as n fixed star? IFe watches it till tiiiully it is lost ill the spleiiilor of till' sun. Wiiat now? It has Ix'en fniiiid that all the bright stars ninoiii; which the sun appears, move upward in the east in the mornin;; just lufoie the sun rises. Mifjlit it not he that this star will pass hy the sun and make its appearance in like manner? M'e can imagine this inilividual. tnomiiiLj after morning, with iiis gaze ttxcd on the eastern sky, watching the roappi'arance of his If\st star. At length it is found: there it is, on the other side of the sun ! Here, then, is the first discovery ever made of n jilaiiet by the human eye. Who dis- covered it ? Alas ! his name — his country, is for ever lost. But we know this to have heen the process. Having found one of these moving bodies, it was not difficult to find others. But it is unnecessary to go into an explanation of the manner in wliicdi other ])lanets were discovered, and I will revert to the moon. Up to this time no explanations of the clianges of the moon were divined — it was impossible to divine them. Another phenomenon, more wonderful, more terrific than all, now came to impress itself upon the mind and awake its eoergies : it was the exhibition of a solar ccli])se. No eye, even at this day, has ever gazed upon this startling scene without experiencing a sense of owe or fenr. The idea that the great source of light is waning — is dying — is passing away from the heavens, always chills the blood and fills the mind with terror. What, then, must have been the effect produced upon the minds of the early inhabitants of the earth by this ])hpnomeiion — while the causes which produced it were unknown, and it was i?n|Kwsiblc to predict its cominR — when, at tlie noon of a mormons and siiiiiiv das . ii pre- Heiited itself (i) their lisliiiii-.bed gil/e .' Siindv, we iniiy iiiiiiniiie ihiit, atiir sueh a startling plleniillleliiin, the iiiosf jKiwerfiil ilitelli etK Were cnnsecriilcd to the iii\f»tiglitioii of thin mystery. Now, T shall venture to iittcmpt an e\| iin- tion U> go fur enough tn show to ymi liow i; was that the first lelipse was piidirted, so that Villi yoiirsidves can, with the eyi alone. Illlike (he reipiisile observations ami iitlaili siif- fliieiit knowledge to be able yourxdves fo predict the coming of su'J3 yciirs they will have run round what might be called at: orbit, and again oc- cur on the same days. Hence, after they had recorded eclipses for one such cycle, there was no dilTiculty in (jreiliciini; an colijise at any future time. The coincidence, however, is not exact. For, if an eclipse occurred (»i the l!»th I'l .March, .3,000 years ago, the suc- cession of the cycle may in the course of time wear gradually arouiui and ilisii|)|)ear ; but many years mu.st roll away before, on the re- currence of the cycle, an r. lipse will not take pi 'ice. As soon as it was possiide to understand the cause of the cidipse of the sum. the human mind was directed to tlii? iuMsti'intion of the cause producing un eclip^,e(!r the moon. This was far more ditlicult, and for this reason : — In the ecli])se of the .sun they had watched the c( ming up of the moon to the sun, its ])nssage across the sun's disk, bidieviiig with- out question that the eclipse was caused by its interposition between them and the sun, and that it occurred only at new moon. But what was to interpose itself lutween the be- holder onil the full moon ? There seemed to be nothing in the heavens. Upon reflection, the human mind bethought itself that i.'very liody which revolves in the li^Iit of another luminous body, will cast a shiidow beyond in a right lino with the light itself. Now if the earth is opaque, it might intercept the light thrown upon it from the sun, casting a shadow toward the hori/on, and might it not be pro- jected far enough to reach the moon itself, so that the moon in passing into the shadow, having no light of its own, would be obscured ? '■.:!■] I hi i tK.p -.1- :, i (iS^ 12« ASTRONOMY. Here is an explanation of the cause of the lunar eclipse, revealing to the early astron- omers the fact that the moon was not self- luminious. Tlie explanation of the phases of the moon is easy. If it be o globe, or sjjhere, and only brilliant in C(mse(|uence of the reflection of the light from the sun, it became necessory that [ the illumination should always be at the time when the moon and the sun wen; in contrary positions relative to the earth. When the sun was setting and the moon was compara- tively near the sun, ond, of course, between the observer aiiu the sun, it w^as im])ossible to see the whole illuminated surface of the moon, and hideed sometimes almost none at all. But as the moon gradually receded from the sun, night after night, after a time it cimie to occupy an easterly position, when the light of the sun falling upon its surface was thrown back at a very acute angle upon the eye of the observer," and the full moon was present- ed. These changes were going on from luna- tion to lunation, and, once observed, were easily comprehended. Willie the moon thus revealed to them the causes of the eclipse of the sun, and the reason of its own phases, it also revealed to the early astronomers the figure of our earth. How did this occur? It was found, when the moon passed into the shadow of the earth, that the line cut out on the disk of the moon by the shadow was an arc of a circle, and as it jiass- cd further and further on, even to the entire obscuration of the moon, it still apjjeared in a form nearer a comjilete circle. Now it was impossible that any other than a globular figure should cast such a shadow upon the surface of the moon. The moon, then, first revealed the figure of the earth upon which we live ; and, strange to tell, that same moon, in our ovm day, has given us a more perfect knowledge of the figure of the earth than can be derived from any measurements with the most ac- mrate nistruments we yet possess. — This matter I shall undertake to explain hereafter. We find, on running back to past history, that observations were made upon the moon, at Babylon, 2,250 years before the Christian era. And these observations, upon the taking of that city by Alexander, were said to have been presenled to Aristotle. The truth of this we can not know ; but one thing we do know— that on the 19th of jNIarch, 2,567 years ago, there was an eclipse of the sun observed and recorded in the tower erected in that mighty city : on the 8th of March in the fol- lowing year there was another ; and on the 4th of September in the next year there was another. And we know and understand the peculiarities belonging to these anti(iue obser- vations. These are, perhaps, among the earliest ob- servations — and of such imjiortance are they in linking the past with the ]u-escnt, that but for them we would at this time be compara- tively ignorant of the movements of that wondrous orb which does more for the civil- ization of the world than any other oni; thing of wliich we have a knowledge. I pronounce this to be true without hesitation. If it were possible, now, to trace with perfect |)r('( ision the exact position of the moon, we slionld ac- complish more for commerce, for science, for civilization, than could be done in any other way. Why? Because then the temjiest- tossed mariner ujion any ocean — over whom days and weeks had passed without his se(!- ing the sun or stars — the moment this silver orb made its appearance again in the heavens, woidd be able with perfect confidenci! to ex- claim : "I know exactly in what part of the globe I am situated ; the smallest observation gives me my latitude, and the jxisition of the moon my longitude." Hence, I say, it is of the utmost conseijuence that we shoulil have these old observations; for by linking them with those now rr.nking, we are al)le to ap- proximate to the accomplishment of this grand design more fully. But as we come down through the tide of time, we find a particular theory adojited with regard to the whole system with which we are united — the old Greek theory, to which I will just advert. It located the earth in the centre, and made the moon the neart st object, and the sim next. Now it happened, curious- ly enough, that there was oin; truth in the theory: the moon did revolve about the earth. \Vlicn Copernicus presenteil his theory, and transferre^l the fixed centie to the sun, causing the planets to take proper position-, rescuing the earth from its false position and ^ending it revolving round the sun, the question was, what is to be done with the mcwn ? There seemed to be a difficulty here. The (juery was : is the moon a planet like the rest ? Perhaps many of my audience have not thought of this. How many of us have ask- ed ther[uestion — "How do we know that the moon revolves ?" Because the books tell us so? We are generally in the habit of re- ceiving facts in that way. I do not retnem- ber ever to have seen an e\planaiion of this in any book. But Coiiernicus reasoned in this way. Said he : I do not believe the moon revolves in an orbit interior to the earth's, because I find that evinces a miracle ; the moon in that case should never kiave the sun but to a limited distance. Now the moon does leave the sun, and moves ofT till it is directly oppo- site, and th.en comes around again up to the Sim. I therefore say it docs v^t revolve in- terior to the earth's orbit. In the next place, ps, nmoiifi the rarlicst ob- such imjiortnnce art they kvith the |)iTscut, that l)ut nt this lime ho t'(>in|iiua- tho inovcijK'nts ol' ihnt ii (lues inorc! for the eivil- 1 thuii any other one thing kiiDwk^ilge. I jironoiincc! out hnsitutiim. If it were ace with ])erfect ])re( ision f the moon, we should ac- •omnierce, for science, for luld be (lone in any other cause then the temiiest- n any ocean — over whom I inisseil without his see- the moment this silver ranee again in the heavens, I perfect confulenc(! to ex- xaclly in what part of the ; the smallest observation le, and the position of the ." H('nee, I say, it is of cnco that we should have ions; for by linking them 'king, we are able to ap- complishment of this grand down through the tide of icular theory adojjted with c system with which we (rreek theory, to which I It located the earth in the le moon the nenn st object, Now it happened, curious- ere was one truth in the id revolve about tho earth. IS presented his theory, and 1 ccntie to the sun, causing proper position-, r(!scuing alse posit ion and sending it le pun, the question was, ! with the moon ? There fficulty here. The (juery a planet like the rest ? my audience ha\e not iow many of us have ask- How do \vc know that the Because the books tell us erally in the habit of re- it way. 1 do not reniem- leen an e>.i)lanation of this t Copernicus reasoned in le : I do not believe the orbit interior to the earth's, ivinces a miracle ; the moon never leave the sun but to Now the moon docs leave i off till it is directly oppo- 59 around again up to the lay it docs vitt n^volve in- 3 orbit. In the next place, mm ASTRONOMY. 123 it does not revolve exterior to the earth's orbit; fori find the motion of all the plonets exterior to the earth, at certain points of their career becomes slow — it ia arrested — they stop — retrograde — they stop again, and tnen take up their onward rnoti(jn. Now I understand why it is that we, being on the surface of a circular globe must have these changes ex- hibited to us. But the moon never stops and retrogrades — it is ever moving onward, and therefore ia not exterior to the orbit of the earth. Here was a further absolute demonstration. It could not be either interior or exterior — therefore it was no planet at all. Now the phenomena exhibited W the moon were per- fectly accounted for. K— upon the hypothe- sis that you make the earth its centre — it re- volves about the earth, it is our satellite, ever accompanying us in all our movements. But we come down still further in the his- tory of our neighbor. When Kepler discov- ered the two laws of planetary movements — that they revolved in orbits not exactly cir- cular, but a little elongated — elliptical as they are called; when, in like manner, he had discovered, by tracing them up, that a line drawn from the sun to any of the planets al- ways swept over equal areas of space in equal times — and when, at the end of seventeen long years of toil, he had also discovered his last great law, which linked all these isolated planets into one grand unit, making the sun always the centre, it seemed that nothing more remained to be done. But immediately the question arose: what holds these mighty ffllobea steady ? What power reaches out to them and prevents them from breaking from their orbits and wandering away into the blackness of darkness? The resolution of this problem was reserved for the imraortd Newton. Kepler himself gathered some faint glimmerings of the great cause — that there was a power of attraction existing in bodies, mutually o{)erating upon each other ; but he did not attain to the demonstration of this fact. This was reserved for that great man to whom we owe our knowledge of the laws of attrac- tion. Here, if you will allow me, I will attempt to explain the manner in which Newton con- ducted the argument which led him to the grand result. I am confident that although there are many hero who have given com- pararively little attention to astronomical sci- ence, they will be able to follow me readily in this explanation. Newton began where Kepler left off. The latter announced that bodies were attracted to each other, and by a force which he believed decreased according to a certain fixed law : and it was to prove this that Newton made his investigations. In the first place, he announced this as a law, according to his belief: that everybody at- tracts every other body by a force which varies inversely as the square of the distance. If a body be locoted at a distance one, the force of its attraction we will pall one. Now remove this body as far again to a distance two, and the attractive power will be one fourth — at a distance three, one ninth, and at a distance four, one sixteenth ; and you can carry out the law to any distance. Now, to prove the truth of this law was the question. In the first ]ilace, it is manifest that, whatever be the law of attraction, it will be clearly and positively determined by the amount of velocity it is capable of impressing upon a falling body. This is intelligible to all. If from this point I let fall any object toward the earth's surface, under the influ- ence of the force of attraction suppose it fell sixteen feet in the first second of time — this sixteen feet will measure the force of attrac- tion at the earth's surface. If it were possi- ble to go 4,000 miles high, and from that point, as remote from the surface of the earth as ray first station at the surface was distant from the centre, and then drop a body, meas- ure the sjjace through which it falls, and find it to be one fourth of sixteen feet in a second, this would be j)roof that the law was true. But suppose I rise still higher, 12,000 miles above the centre of the earth, and there find the space through which this body falls ia a ninth part of sixteen feet in a second — here is another confirmation of the law, An(l if, as I increase my distance every time by the radius of the earth's circumference, I fin^ the same law holds true, I pronounce, without hesitarion, that this is the law of attraction. But I can not rise in this way, to a distance of twelve, eight, or four thousand miles. Yet may I not carry my observations to a certain height ? Yes ; but to such a comparatively small distance that the diflference wll be in- appreciable. A las, for the person who under- takes the experiment! such is the minute difllerence, even when he has attained the greatest height ever attained by man, it can not be appreciated. What then was to be done ? No one could ascend above the earth to perform these ex- periments. But the mighty intellect of New- ton stretched still further, and our old friend, the moon, was brought in to play the part of this falling body! What! do you ask — is the moon falling toward the earth, and does Newton seize it and stop it, and then com- pute with what velocity it should come tow- ard its central planet ? No : This is not pos- sible. But, let me explain. Here is the moon : — now let us start with the moon when it was first projected in its orbit. Under the 9 ■•ft*^M ^1; •tufi 124 THE OUAEDIAN ANGEL. action of the impulsive force it would have moved off in n straight line, with a certain determined velocity, which we can measure. If this iniiiulse had not been ^iven to it, ond it had been left free in space, it would have dropped toward the centre of the earth with a certain velocity, which we can also measure. Now, under the action of these two forces, it does not obey either of them, but takes a di- rection intermediate between the two, and swings in a curve about the earth. And here is the stated point : if, under the action of an impulsive force, it would in a second of time reach that point in a straight line, under the attraction of the earth it is drawn down, and the amount by which it is drawn dovyn is the amount through which it falls during that second of time. _ _ One more grand point is to be accomplish- ed, and wo are through. First : inasmuch as the moon is falling, it is necessary to note how much it falls. That is easily measured : all we have to do is to remark the amount of declension from a straight line which it would have pursued in a second of time. A straight line is easily measured, and gives the value of the distance through which a body located at the moon will fall toward the earth in one second. Now the grand point is whether that distance is what it ought to fall, under the hypothesis of the law of gravitation. When Newton undertook this investigation he was not provided wth accurate data. It \yas easy to compute how far a body should fall in r ^ second of time — every person can do that Only«follow this law, beginning with 16 feet a second at a surface of the earth, or at the length of the earth's radius. .lust sf|uare the distance, which wll be successively 2, 4, 9, 16, and so on, till at the distance of the moon, or 60 times the length of the earth's radius, it ^vill be 3,600. Since this computation was so easy, all that was necessary was to measure the space through which the moon did fall, and if they Avcre equal, then of course the demonstration jvos made. Yet, alas for the toil of the philosopher ! His data were incorrect, ond for seventeen years did he goad his mind to the subject, toiling day and night to make this coincidence perfect, but it would not rgree ; so he threw his laborious computations away in despair. But, in attending a meeting of the Roj'al society in London, he happened to catch the sound of the voice of an individual who was talking about a recent measurement of the cir- cumference of the earth. That was the prin- cipal element entering into the computation. The new measurement differed from the old. Here, thought ho, may be the source of my error. He takes down his old computations, and substitutes the new measurement of the diameter of our globe, which makes a differ- ence in the pro|X)rfional distance to the moon. The result he anticipates is coming out. But his nervous system sinks beneath the intense excitement— he yielded up the comj)utation to a friend, for he could not make it himself. The coincidence was perfect — the grand dem- onstration was made — the law of gravitation was proved. At last he had grasped the key to the mysteries of the universe, and held it with a giant hand. THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. "Take heed that ye despise not one of these littie ones ; for I say unto you, that in hoavcn their nnpels do always behold the face of my Father which ia in heaven," 8t. Matthew, xvili. 10. The engraving opposite shows the Guardi- an Angel guiding the footsteps of the trustful child. Grimeaux, the painter, has taken for his subject the two beautiful passages in the ninety-first psalm : — " For he shall give his angelo charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways ; , , 1 " Tbey shall bear thee up in their bands lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." The old masters, who, like the German ar- tists cf the present day, drew their best in- spirations from the Scriptures, never perhaps, embodied a more beautiful idea than that ot the Guardian Angel. A little Gennancsque it might be, but what really great efibrt is un- tinged by nationality ? The picture, taken as a whole, is a fine moral poem, and full of mcanins; in every line. The dangers of life are typified by the dark sea which lies on each side of the rarrow neck of land down which the child is being guided by the Angel. The brink of the precipice on either hand is hidden by flowers, which represent the delu- sive pleasures of the world. The angel, from behind, like a mother waiting upon the trem- bling feet of an infant, with careful palms, watches, lest he should swerve from the nar- row path. She does not touch him— to his own free will his footsteps are left, until his inherent helplessness calls forth the gentle guidance of her hands. Her white wings curve around as though doubly to assure the child, for does it not say in the psalm — " He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust" 7 The face of the angel is very fine. Anni- bal Caracci, whose ijngels, " with hair blowji back," reach the highest point of spiritual f^' ~!g.^ -, -n»p^s*j«s!fe-*;*':v;?s^SfeS^%^^*ftt^»i the tiew tncQsnrcmpnt of the globe, which makes a iliffcr- ortionnl distance to the moon, iticipates is coming out. But cm sinks beneath the intense yielded up the comi)utation le could not make it himself, i was perfect — the grand dcm- nadc — the law of gravitation tt last he had grasped the key i of the Tiniverse, and held it ad. 3UARDIAN ANGEL. ye despise not one of these little ones ; that in lieavon tlieir nnpels do alwuys my Father which is in heaven." St. Matthew, xvlii. 10. ng opposite shows the Guardi- ig the footsteps of the trustful .ux, the painter, has taken for two beautiful passages in the Im:— give hi« angelB charge over thee, to liy ways ; J car thee up in their bonds lest thou iiist a Btone." Iters, who, like the German ar- escnt day, drew their best in- 1 the Scriptures, never perhaps, )re beautiful idea than that ot Angel. A little Gennanesque It what really great eflbrt is un- ionality ? The picture, taken a fine moral poem, and full of ery line. Vhe dangers of life ly the dark sea which lies on ;he parrow neck of land down d is being guided by the Angel, the precipice on either hand is /ers, which represent the delu- of the world. The angel, from mother waiting upon the trem- an infant, with careful palms, he should swerve from the nar- he does not touch him — to his his footsteps are left, until his lessness calls forth the gentle her hands. Her white wings as though doubly to assure the i it not say in the psalm — ircr thee with his feathers, and under tliou tru»t" 1 F the angel is very fine. Anni- vhose ^ngels, "with hair blown . the highest point of spiritual I The Guardian Angel. urn i- i l^ftt'l' ^^i^^^^-dSi^B 126 DIAMONDS. fet'ling, never painlcil a more bcuutiful oiip. IJut (Icscriiiliou is dull when employctl upon such a picture ; we hiivebcer vainly otrninj)!- ing to paint with the pc tvnat the rciider can understand at one glance by looking at the engraving. Both in idea and in execu- tion it is a work of high ait — of on artwhic^h addresses itself to the breadth and depth of human feeling rather than to the narrow edge of conventioualiBin, however refined. DIAMONDS. The diamond is a mineral body of great value and hardness, first discovered in Asia. The primitive fonn of this precious stone is the regular octoedron, each triangular facet of which is sometimes replaced by six secon- dary triangles, boimded by curved lines ; so that the crystal becomes spheroidal, and then presents forty-eight small facets. These two peculiar characteristics of the diamond are exhibited in the subjoined figures. Many stones when rubbed exhibit very distinct electrical clFects.and they will attract or repel light bodies which are brought mto their neighborhood. The diamond, when ex- cited, exhibits positive electricity ; wliereas, the other precious stones, if rough, uflord ncative electricity. In general, however, it does not retain this electricity for any consid- erable length of time. Diamonds become phosphorescent, when exposed to the rays of the sun. Many of them, however, do not possess this property, although agreeing, in color, form, and trans- parency, with those which readily become luminous. The continuance of the phospho- rescence varies from five or six seconds to a full hour, and this even when the stone has not been exirosed more than a few seconds to the rays of^ the sun. It is i)hosphorescent under water, as well as in the air. The dia- mond, v/hen exposed to the blue rays of the prism, becomes phosjAinresccnt ; but when exiMjsed to the red ra; s is noc so. The spark from a charged jar produces the same effect as I exposure to the sun's rays. Exposure tn the ' light of a WDX-candle also produces i)hospho- rescencc. Diamonds are found chieflv in the king- doms of Oolcondii, Visa]H)ur, Bengal, the isl- and of Borneo, and Brazil. The mines are generally adjticeiit to nicky hills and mount- ains, and sometimes the diamonds are fonnd scattered in the earth, within two or three fathoms of the surface. In other jilaces, the miners dig through rocks to the depth of for- ty or fifty fathoms, till they come to a sort of mineral earth in which they find the diamonds enclosed. This earth is sometimes of a yel- lowish, and sometimes of a reddish color, and adheres to the stone so strongly, that it is dif- ficult to get it oH". A sufficfent (luantity of this earth being dug out of the mine, it is thrown into a cistern of water, where, having soaked for some time, it is stirred about till the clods are broken, ond the gravelly mat- ter sinks to the bottom. After this a vent is opened, and the cistern snpjilied with clean water, till all the earthy substance is washed awav, and nothing but gravel remains. What thus' settles at the bottom is spread to dry in the sun, then sifted, and afterward carefully searched with the hands to find out the dia- monds, at which the workmen are so expert, that the most minute bit of a stone can hardly escape them. It sometimes happens, how- ever, that the earth is so fixed about the dia- monds, that, before thev are rubbed on a rough stone with sand, their transparency can not be discovereiJ. In the kingdom of Golconda, or in that of Visapour according to some maps, are the miney of Raolconda, which have been discov- ered above two hundred years. The earth here is sandy, and full of rocks ; and in these rocks are fonnd several little veins, half an inch or an inch broad, out of which the mi- ners, with hooked irons, draw the sand or earth that contair.s the diamonds, breaking the rock when the vein terminates, thot the track may be easily found again and continu- ed. To separate the diamonds from tlii^ earth, it undergoes several washings and oth- er operations, as we have already observed. Tlie miners are obliged to work almost naked, and have likewise inspectors to prevent their concealing the diamonds ; which yet, notwith- standing all this care, they sometimes find opportunities of doing. Tavemicr says, he saw one detected who had put a small stone into the comer of his eye ; but swallowing a diamond is a surer and more usual method among them. If the miners meet with a stone of fifteen or sixteen carats, they are al- lowed a reward, besides their usual pay, which is very little. Tlic king has two per cent, for all the diamonds that are sold ; and DIAMONDS. 127 I's rnvs. Exposure to the lie also produces i)hortpho- ounil chi(>fl^' in tTie king- Visa])()nr, iBciignl, the isl- d Brazil. The mines are to roeky hills ond monnt- ps the dioinonds arc fonnd nrth, within two or three face. In other places, the I rocks to the depth of for- , till they come to a sort of hioh they find the dinmonrls irth is sometimes of a yel- mes of a reddish color, and le so stronjilv, that it is dif- r. A sutficfent ut those are not very clear, their water be- ing usually tinged with the color of the soil, which in some places is yellowish, in others b'nck and moist, and in others reddish. An- other defect of some conse(iuence, is a kind of greasiness appearing on the diamond when cut, which takes oH' part of its lustre. Here the miners usually dig to the mim ii tnd. npconliiiij tf> tliR vnlue of iJie stone, even toil pinch of tolmcco. Notwitlistniidiii!.' <'V- erv imuirinntilp precaution, negroes tinrl nieinirt to niirloin dirimonils, which they ili.-«|M)S(! of to sinn(j!:li-rH (coiitralmmlistiix) ni a very low ()rico. The liittor (lis|M)se of them chielly at Tiinrn and Villo do Princi[>(.>. They obtain a higher price ot tlie hitter, l)ecause their ri^ks are jreater in transportiuD: them thither. The neirroes frei|neiitly (contrive to im[)o.se upon the contrabandistus, as they have the ir.euns, by some simple process, of (living crystals the npi)earance of rou^h diamonds, so ns etVecually to dpdirioi)sly divided, by finding tV.e grain of the stone, as it is called ; that is, the disiwsition of the laminas or plates of which it iscomjjosed, and intnxlucinir between ihem the point of a tine chisel. When this is properly done, a stone will split as evenly as a piece of tnlc, and give two diamonds or more, if the thickness will allow it, of the same breadth or surface with the original one. The sj)litting of a diamond sometimes answers another enil, whe.i the stone has a flaw or blemish in it, which greatly debases its value ; proper for, by separating tlip plates ot a depth, tilt' lliiw miiy In- rcnifivcd. 'JMie diumonils cliosoti for cutting gluss nn al! crvstulli/ed. The fuccs arc curved, and hence the meeting of any two of them pri'- scnts a curvilinear ediie. If the diainoiid 1h> so placid that the lini; of the intended cut i< a tangent to this edge near its extremity, and if the two surfaces of the diamond laieriillv adjacent, be etpiallv inclined to the surfoce of the glass, then the conditions necessary for etVecting the cut are complied with. In adili- tion to the cutting and engraving of glass, the diamond has l>een very advantageously em- ployed in drawing minute lines on the surface of steel, by which nil of the beautifully- variegated tints of the roinlMiw may be pro- duced- As on article of commerce, the value of diamonds is measured by various circumstan- ces, among which ore their size, form, weight, color, purity, and cutting. In the diamonvf- i^ilue. If th« fiiiuiiotut l>»> Jii! of the iiitPiiiliMi cut is re near its extremity, nnij of tho dintnoiid hiterjiliy inclined to the snrfnee of cimditions necessary for I complied with. In addi- nd enn^aving f)f gliiss. the i very ndvantagconsly em- ninnte lines on the surface I ftU of the benutifully- the rainlwiw may be pro- commerce, the value of pd hy various circumstan- | re thoir size, fonn, weight, I uttiuc;. In the diamonds ; )lishehire, and m front is the immense ruby once worn by Ed- ward the black prince. Numt^rous otlier precious stones, rubies, pearls, and emeralds, arc intenninglfd with these gems down to the rim, which is formed of ermine. The follow- ing is the estimated value : — Twenty diamonds roand the circle, t7,S00 each $150,000 Two largo centre diuuiond^i, $10,000 each SO,OOU Fifty-fuar ernullcr diamonds, placed at the angles of the former .... 500 Four crosaoK, eaoh composed of twenty-tive diamonds 60,000 Four diamonds on the tops of the crosses 800,000 Eigliteun dinniuiids contained in the lleurs- dells 50,000 Eighteen smaller diamonds, in the same 10,000 Pearls, diamonds, &c., ou the arclies and crosses 50,000 Oao liundrud and forty-one diamonds on the mound 3,500 Twent^'il:r diamonds on the apper cross 15.000 Two circles of pearls about ibe rim ■ 4.000 $563,000 NIGHT. 'Tis night — solemn nicht ; the broad eye of day has closed, and all its joyous sights and sounds have departed ; a majestic gloom broods over all things; night has wrapped in her ob- livious mantle, the golden glories of day's bright ruler, and naught breaks the fearful contrast, save the twinkling of some far-oir star, whose feeble rays remind us that light has been. And yet the ni^ht is not wholly unlovely, or unloved ; for when the day is past, meili- tation delights to pursue her task 'ncath her shadowing wine. When are the woijds more solemn, than when darkness broods over the green foliage, or the night winds in fitful gusts sway the outspreading branches of the fores'; trees ? It is such a time as this that suits the spirit that has drunk deeply of the cup of suf- fering, and these gloomy sights and solemn sounds are sweeter than music to the ear which has been satiated with the fulsome and unmeaning adulation of a false world, and the mind finds even in the forest's gloom, and the wailing sound of the hoarse night wind, some- thing in unison with the sombre thoughts that are dwelling within. The thoughts, too, at such a season, are not drawn aside by the multitude of objects which bright day presents, but the mind is turned in upon itself — its own acts are the objects of scrutiny, the cn.;)ti 's which lurk deep in the recesses of the « il are brought under strict view, passion is cooled, reason triumphs, and thought, foi the moment, is supreme. Night is the season for examination; the acts of the ilay then present themselves be- fore tlie mind for judgment ; ranscience stamps its a])proval or condemnation on every action, and by its impartial voice we are taught to imi)rove the future by the follies and errors of the past. Night is the time for devotion ; the solemn sky, with its gleaming fires, and the awful silence which prevails, j)ress holy feelings on the soul — feelings which bid man bow and humbly worship; for at such seasons the world is shut cnit, and man, cut oil from the thron|» of his fellows, stands alone with God. How important then that sin should be con- fessed, jiardon sought, and the conscience cleansed ere sleep be invited. Night is the time for music's soft strain ; its notes breaking on the stillness which reigns around, seem like the voices of far-olF angels, and every pulsation of the heart is in unison with the song. The mind, too, is then better suited to the reception of holy impressions, and oft at such seasons we seem borne away from earth, and stand with the heavenly harpers near the eternal throne. Let us, then, ever improve its pensive gloom, and its solemn .silence — let music swell, let nrayer arise, let thought bo free to range in the extended empire which God has given it, and we shall have abundant reason to bless Qod for the night. THE SOLAR SYSTEM. If the younger portion of our readers will commit to memory the following lines, they will ever after have a correct idea of the ar- rangement of our solar system. It will fix it in the memory like the length of the months by tho old "thirty days hath Sej)tember,"&c. " Poised in the centre hangs the glorious Sun, Hound which the rapid Mercury doth ran ; Next, in due order, Vcnwi wheels her tlishl. And then the Earth, and Moon, her satellite; Next fiery Mart pursues his ronnd career ; Beyond, the circling AiCeroids appear ; The beUjMl Jupiter remoter flies, With his four moons attendant thro' the skies ; Tho belt-ringed Saturn roams more distant still. With seven sw:fl; moons he dolh his circuit fill j While with six satellites, that round him roll, Uranut slowly circumvolvea the whole. But far beyond, nnscanned by mortal eye, In widening spheres, bright suns and systems lie, Circling in measureless infinity I Pause o'er the mighty scents, O man ! and raise Your feeble voice to the Ckbatok's praise t" M: the en.nt: ^8 which lark i of the m il arc brought passion is cooled, reason ight, fu< tho inuinent, is son for examination ; the n present tlieinselves bo- lament; ranscience stamps einnation on every action, il voice wc are taught to by the follies and errors for devotion ; the soicmn ling fires, and the awful ils, press holy fef lings on ivliicli bid man bow nnd fur at such seasons the md man, cut oti from the 3, stands alone with God. n that sin should be con- ght, and the conscience e invited. ) for music's soft strain; I the stillness which reigns ic voices of far-i)ir angels, of the heart is in unison B mind, too, is then better ition of holy impressions, )ns wc seem borne away and with the heovenly rnal throne. k-cr improve its pensive II silence — let music swell, thought bo free to range )ire which God has given : abundant rcoisou tu bless -AR SYSTEM. •rtion of our readers will the following lines, they a correct idea of the ar- lar system. It will fix it the length of the months ays hath September," dec. Iianffa the glorious Sun, ipid Mercury doth ran j Venun wheels her flight, 1, and Moon, her satellite ; rsaes hia roond career ; 5 Aiieroids appear j remoter flies, 8 attendant thro' the skie* ; turn roams innre distant still, lonns he doth his circuit fill ; sllitcs, that ronod him roll, amvolvea the whole, icanned hy mortal eye, «, bright suns and systems lie, less infinity ! ity scen«s, O man f and ruise > the Ckiatoh's praise I" ANCIBNT WINEPaESS. 131 In Syria, the vintage begins about tho miifdlc of September, and contin- ues for about two months. It is earlier in Palestine, where the grapes are sometimes ripe even in June or July ; this arises probably from a triple pru- ning, in which case there is also a third vintage. The first is in August, the second in September, and the third in October. Joyous, indeed, was the season when the grapes were plucked off, and car- ried to the wine-press, which was built in the vineyard, whose site was care- fully chosen in fields of u Wse, crum- bling soil, on a rich plain, a sloping hill, rising with a gentle ascent, or, where the acclivity was very steep, in terra- ces turned as much as possible from the setting sun. The wine-presses were either built of stone, or hewm out of a large rock. The grapes were thrown into the upper part, to be trodden by men, and tht; juice flowed out into re- ceptacles beiinath, as appears from the engraving. The treading of the wine- press was laborious, but it was per- formed with singing, and sometimes ac- companied with musical instruments. Oil of olives was expressed in the same way, before the invention of milk. The existence of this practice in Pales- tine, is evident, from the language of m ifMflJUsfli i • \ I 1 r '^ 4 ■ f I '^»«^:t i^hi^M^ ^%m i 138 8HAKKU8 OF NEW LEBANON. Moses : " I^et Ashcr dip his foot in oil ;" and from the threatening, " Thou shalt sow, but thou shalt not reap ; tliou shall tread the ol- ives, but thou shalt not anoint thee with oil ; and sweet wine, but shalt not drink wine," Micoh vi. 15. To the custom of treading grapes and olives, reference is frecjuently made by the inspired writers. Thus the glorious conqueror, who appeared in vision to Isaiah, said, "I have trodden the wine-press alone ; and of the peo- ple there was none with me: fori will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blaxl shall be sprinkled on my garments, and I will stain all my raiment," Isiiiuh Ixiii. 3. As the clothes of the treaders were sprinkled with the juice of the grapes, so were the garments of the Redeemer with the bl(K)d of his enemies, who were as easily and completely crushed bv his almighty pow- er, as are the full ripe clusters of the vine, beneath the feet of men. The same figure is employed in the book of Revelation, xiv. 1 8-20, to express the fearful destruction which awaits the adversaries of God and of man. SHAKERS OF NEW LEBANON. ■*!? m Perhaps there is no sect whose principles ond forms have been so misrepresented, and so little understood by the worid, as the people called shakers. "We have no doubt our readers will be interested in reading a description of a Sunday passed, in the green Inp of New Lebanon, at the oldest and richest establishment of that most singular ppople, in this country. There, in the midst of that sweet circle of picturesque and verdant hills, two extremesof modem life have nestled down; fashionable society around the "springs," which suggest at least, if they do not exactly afford, physical health and comfort, and a couple of miles off, that sober company of separatists around what they deem " springs of living water, welling up to everlasting life." They are associationists m their way, which truly is a most negative and inverse way to one who is a believer in the passions, as the essential springs of all good energy in man, fed from the fountain of Divine love; but, they illustrate some of the advantages of combination, and we were moved to seek a lesson from them. Their industry we could not see, it being Sunday, but tliere was a chance for us to spell out something of their life-ideal from the strange symbols of their worship. Passing their highly-cultivated gardens, and their neat, plain dwellings, we came to the meeting- house, a spicious and (jnaint structure, which had yet a Certain architectural beauty of its own. I>y its lead-colored, semi-cylindrical long roof, and its starched air of neatness, it resembled a meek quoker bonnet, while the details of doors and windows and green blinds were groceful and appropriate. Yet use and plainness evidently were the only presiding canons of their art. The side on which we entered, was filled from end to end with curi- ous spectators like ourselves, though few of them W8 fancy, regarded the matter in so serious a mcxHi as wo did. Upon the other side, across the 8j> icious, smooth floor, gleam- ing like a sheet oi etter paper, and so clean that not a speck was visible upon it, we caught the full ensemble of the worshipiiers, ranged on benches running hblf across the room- benches without backs — sitting demure, their hands upon their knees, rows of men opposite to rows of women, llie first glimpse of the latter startled us like a scene in the tombs ; — they looked so much like white and sheeted ghosts, in their death-like linen caps and facial bandages and robes that hung so straight and close to the gaunt figures; old and yoiing alike reduced to the sKmo pattern, of which the ideal seemed the extinction of any most remote suggestion of beauty. The men and boys in their old-mannish uniform looked generally hale and cheerful, vith a shrewd twinkle 'in the eye, despite a placid and sub- missive manner. Most of them were gentle and mechonical looking persons ; but here and there was one more imposing and ambitious looking figure, who seemed as if he should have passions, and whose existence amid that monotonous, tame life we could not so readily account for. But the women were a sad sight ; on them falls the heaviest penalty of this dear-bought and unnatural peace. The gravity of the ficene was certainly impressive. Assuming that a life which satisfies so many and so long, and which has so succeeded in an outward way, could not have nothins at the core of it, and that the inner sense of their peculiarities must form a consistent whole of some sort, we gave respectful and studious at- tention to the exercises which rnw opened. An aged voice, proceeding somewhere from the centre of the worshippers (we could not see the person), congrotulated them upon the return of their sweet privilege of worshipping God after their own monner and understand- ing. This was simply ond briefly said, and in a tone not cold nor formal, but quite hu- man. Then by a simultaneous movement (whence communicated we could not tell), they were all on their feet at once, and began to j)ile away the benches in their respective comers, male and female, to make on open area for what was to follow, and stood waiting 8HAKKH9 OK NKW LEBANON. 133 n<\ nnaint stninturp, which irchitpcturol bcnuty of its l-colorcil, somi-cyhwlricnl itarched air of ncafness, it quaker bonnet, whilo the winilows and crcen blinds appropriate. Yet use and ' were the only presiding . The side on which wo from end to end with curi- • ouwelvcs, though few of ogarded the matter in so wo did. Upon the other (•ious, wnooth floor, gleain- etter paper, and bo clean 3 visible upon it, we caught f the worshippers, ranged ig half across the room — icks — sitting demure, their necs, rows of men opposite ITie first glimpse of the ke a scene in the tombs ; — ch like white and sheeted ieath-like linen caps and 1 robes that hung so straight ,unt figures ; old and young iie ^Mime pattern, of which he extinction of any most of beauty. The men and l-mannish uniform looked d cheerful, vith a shrewd :, despite a placid and sub- Most of them were gentle )king persons ; but here and ire imposing and ambitious 10 seemed as if ho should I whose existence amid that life we could not so readily it the women were a sad lis the heaviest penalty of md unnatural pence. The le was certainly impressive, ife which satisfies so many which has so succeeded in could not have nothina at that the inner sense of their t form a consistent whole of e respectful and studious at- rcises which riow opened, proceeding somewhere from worihippers (we could not ongratulated them upon the eet privjlogo of worshipping vn manner and understand- imply and briefly said, and 1 nor formal, but quite hu- a simultaneous movement nicated we could not tell), their feet at once, and began benches in their respective 1 female, to make an open s to follow, and stood waiting ia thoir cross rows ufjnin. Aiidilertlien stop, pcd forward ami adclrisM-d the mMiiulc.r-i, rfs|)ccirully ri'questing tlii'in to alutuin from talkiim, luughinj:, und ollu'r inlcrruptionH, and eHpcciuliy settiiij; forth tliiir law of licnnruifss which iiiioii the crowd we should say thut soiiie of tin in could not have attended chuii^ii to better jmrpose. Wo should not wonder if wmie careless hearts had the idea of outward imrilieation seriously engraved upon them there, for the first time perhai)s in their lives. The speaker said ho was aware that their customs were singular, naturuUv causing astonishment and even ridi- cule in Those who could not understand them as they did ; but he gently reminded them of the respect due to their peculiarities, to which they had a perfect right. Indeed, they all evinced a perfect sane consciousness of their relative position to the rest of the world, which they did not sufler to disturb them. The most singular thing about their singularities, was the absence of oil fanatical into:dcotion. In the songs and dances which ensued, wo sawnothingof that violence and phrensy which have been reported of them; all was mod- erate, deliberate, and self-possessed ; no dis- tortions, whiriings round on tijitoe, groans, or frantic shouts. The spirit did not seem to wrestle with then, but to descend upon them 8oothin"ly ; and we were convinced that the spirit of their system is subdued and (luiot and that if such thmgs ever occur as above hinted they are only exceptional. First came a spiritual hymn or chant, sung standing, to a very homely", humdrum, secular I sort of a tune, with a brisk, jig-like motion, ' It was sung in unison, all the voices on one l)art, from grulFest base to shrillest treble; "the very pluiiujst, baldest thing that could be called music having a rhythm and a melody, but rigorously rejecting all unnecessary wealth and coloring of harmony. The close of every song was marked by unisonous, sepulchral lengthening out of the last note. There reiu/ the materiol ; not the spiritual in the material. Life without passion, unity without variety, use without beauty, law without attraction, and purity by sheer simplistic abstinence, arc his fancied solution, but in reality evasion, of the grand life-problem. Next came the dance. Two by two the men, and two by two the women, getting time and impulse from the jig-like hymn o* their own chanting, both hands dangling loose and fin-like before the breast, went journey- ing round the room in circles, with strange limping step, stout old men and starch old maidens, spite of solemn faces, stepiiing otF as briskly as the youngest, and forgetting the apparent loss of dignity in the profound obe- dience of all this. Some of the older and in- finn members only stood still and liKiked on, but kept up the same dangling of the hands, as if to fan the flame. Occasionally they would pause in the middle of these " divine- circles," as one of the speakers called them, and the silence would be broken by some fe- male voice, 8U])posed to be under the moving of the spirit, declaring " her uiisi)enkable sat- isfaction in this life, that she felt that she had found G(k1," and a few more sentences to this elFeet, which was answered in like (|uiet man- ner, passionless, and mechnnieal, by some other sister, or by some old man, or yimng convert warmly giving his experience. Then they would tourney on again, with steady eanicst pertinacity," as if by way of symbol- iziuK tlie dull journey of life. Reason. — Reason is used by those most acute in distinguishing, to signify that power of the mind by which we draw inferences, or by which we are convinced, that a relation belongs to two ideas, on account of our having found" that these ideas bear certain relations to other ideas. It is that faculty which en- ables us, from relations and ideas that are known, to investigate such as are unknown, and without which we never coulil proceeil in the discovery of truth a single step beyond I first principles. «= iiij 1 -«ui4^'^ i i WpIi^i*,, %im "tirj -mimmm^sms^^ff», 134 SOCIAL INFLUENCE. SOCIAL INFLUENCE. 'r i« n moHt iiit(;re«titiff, ai wi'll a» iolrmn fort, tlint every iiidiviiliiiil jneniber of society i.H r(>^|Miii^ilile, to some ilegree, forthcrntninon Coixl. We limy way toriifh oiif.tho Aliiii;;hty liii-i |ilii<'r(l tlie moral ehnriu'Ur, the soriul coii- ilitioji, the M|iirituul jjrowth of mmiy others, to B coiisiilenililc extent, under your eare. He hi).« liiikeil to;.'ether all men with a ihouHand iiitiTsec(iii2 eliaint ; mimy of wliieh, no to •|K.>ak, eiiniieet with eneh one of ii^i ; and by iiu'iiiis of tl^ese, our inlluenco in contiiinully flowing; out in every direction. Thus we nre reri|ir()callv inHueiiciiig each other's coiuluct, niid moulding; each other's character. It is astonishing how much intlueiicc a single pi'rson sometimes has oV('r n whole communi- ty. He imi)re9ses his mark upon all around him, and it is visible to nil. IJut the iiilluence of n jxTsoii is not to be measured by its visible oH'wis. Tliose cases which ore the most strikiiip, generally attract attention because they bear somewhat of an eccentric type, and huvp respect to things out of the Vonimon course — When the inlluenco is to onytliing lieculiur, it is instantly seen. iJut in p'rojior- lion as it falls in with u oss(!S8 and exercise it, and there is no one who is not alfected i)y it in others. And, if desirable, its amount may always be increased l)y cultivutin;; those ([ualities, and expanding those Oiculties of ours Ufion which it is based. There are various tistinct spheres of life where this influence is peculiarly exerted, and wherein Pnnidence seems to have de- signed to atli)rd us an ojiportunity for benefit- ing each other. One of the^e spheres is the family. By ordaining the ties of kindred, and collecting us together in family grouns, n foundation has been laid for much delightful and im- proving influence. The relations into which we arc thus brought to each other, give us a reciprocal power which, if rightly improved, Mcuresthe most beneficial results; but which, if perverted, is to an e(iual extent disastrous. The influence of a parent over a child, proba- bly exceeds every other. By it, the child's character will receive a bias which nothing can afterward fully remove. Hence the un- told importance ol'^ giving it early a right di- rection. "Take this child and nurse it for me," is the address of Ood to every parent, and a solemn responxiliillty attends tin; ebarye. The child will b(( very much what the piirent attempts to make it. Kvervhoiir inipres-ions will be mode upon it wliieli nothing can ef. face. Nor is the influrnco of oilii.T mciniiers of the family upon each other, very mnch below that of tilt! pareii^. Next We will mention the social circle of friends. Tlie iiilluence here exerted nualit, pim I it wliicli tioiliiii^ ciiri (•('. illiiriicc of oiIk.t inciiilicrx I cnrh other, very iiiiicli uri'ii^. •iilidii tlin Sdc'uil i'irrl(.' of iclK^c here (■xcrlcil (iii;;lit, iintcil next til that in tin; circle. (Iruwii toKcilii-r hy T of coincident tiistcit and rt inin£jl(!s wiili licait, uml (low freely forili, there u ' npiritu, and ninh a tni»t- if self to th(! ;;iiiiliinr(5 of 'csults in a mental u^sinii- I'ircunistanco of nei^jhlior- H'r H|ilier(' of inlluence, hy ccoinit. For it is ini|i(issi- ist (li8»iinilftr |((.'rs(Mis to ho lie (Inily seen, nnd hron^ht • husincss of life, without ic deep iinpriNsions, and ' feeling and elmriirtcr. )f society, als(j, hy uniting 1, and owilkenili!; coiniiiou lependeiice, oiu'nesx of iii- de^-iru, is another fouiida- [luenc(? of Considerable ex- irc united togetln^r fur the government, to maintain resist oppression, establish lose institutions which are well-heiniT of society nnd •, have, from this interest- other, a mutual sympathy ivcsthem nn important in- ther'« hearts. of social influence which II this lirief article, is the in is one of the ih^epest ilure, the influence urisinjr if wonderful j)ow! r. Kach lis w(5 have Hi'!!iluned af- :)inotiug mental and spirit- hut thi" being founded lities, allords the most de- '3 for ojierating upon other and sacred is this relation, humblest member with a tion, and secures a defei- is and wishes, which lie a attain : while every one here, and open hearts, to |iressions he may have the to make. arge upon these various luence; They are all in- all imjioirtant. ; they are all THE LONDON QIN-PALACE. ISA \ ..... utteridnd with very wcinhty rpspon«ihiIitie«. In th" family, the sociiil circle, the neiKhbor- h.Mid, the state, the church, Uod has nsslKiied t( r,» ilie nvwt imjMirtant trusts, and i^ven u^ the inean«, ay, even no appointeil our condi- tion that we can not tvoid being in-fumentul to the uccumplUhmLnt of mucli, either ginxl or evil. THE LONDON GIN-PALACE. TiiK gin-palace i« generally at the comer of two inters(;cting streets in a gin-drinkiligneigh- iMirhixxl : it towers, in all the majesty of stuc- co pilasters, in genuine cockney splendor, over the dingy mansions thot support it, like a ra- paei(nis tyrant over his impoverished sulyects. The (Uiors are large, swinging easily upon patent hinges, and ever half-and-half — half- open and half-slmt, so that the most undecided toucli of the dram-drinker adiriits him. The windows arc of jilate-glass, set in lirass sashes, and are tilled with flaming announcements in large letters, " The Cheapest House in Lon- dim" — "Cream o( the Valley" — "Creaming Stout"— "Brilliant Ales"— "Old Tom, four- nence a quartern" — " Ilinlge's Best for mix- ing"— and a variety of other entertainments for the men and beasts who make the gin- |)alace their home. At night s])lendid lights irradiate the surrounding gloom, and an illu- minated clock serves to remind the toper of the time he throws away in throwing away his reason. Within, ihe splendor is in keeping with the splendo without; rounters fitted ^> th zinc, and a loig array of brass tups ; fittings of the finest Spanish tiiahogany. beautifully polished ; bottles, containing conlials, and other drugs, gilded and labelled, as in the apothecaries' shop«. At one siclc is tlie bar-parlor, an apari iicnt fitted up with congenial taste, ond usually occupied by the family of the publi- can ; in the distance are vistas, and sometimes galleries, formed altogether i it huge vats of the various sorts of liquor dispensed in the es- tablishment. Behind the counter, which is usually raised to a level with the breasts of the topers, stand mm in their shirt-sleeves, well-dressed ferrn' m, or both, dispensers of the "short" and "heavy;" the under-sized tipplers, raisii.g themselves on tiptoe, deposit© the three halfpen"e for the " drop" of gin, or whatever else they require, and receive their quantum of the poison in return ; ragged wo- men, with starveling . 'lildren, match and bal- lad vendets, fill up the foreground of the pic- ture. There are no seats, nor any accommo- dation for the oust iraers in the regular gin- m palace; every exertion is used to make the place as uneomfortablt; to the consumers as {M)ssii)le, so that they shall only step 'n to drink, and pay ; step out, nnd return to drink and [lay again. No f(H)d of any kind is pro- vided at the gin-palace, save u f(!W biscuits, which are exliibited in a wire cage for protec- tion against the furtive hand; drink, ttrrnal, j)oisonous drink, is the sole provision of tliia whited sepulchre. There is not in nil London a more melan- choly and spirit-de|)ressing sight than tilt! area of one of the larger gin-pulaces on a vet night. There thi; homeless, hous(.'lcss, mis- erubles of both sexes, whether they havf money or not, resort in numbers for a tern ])orary shelter; aged women selling ballads and nintches, cripples, little beggar-boys and girls, slavering idiots, jiic-men, sandwich-men, apple and orange women, shell-fishinongers, hii'ldled p(!ll-mell, in dragglotailed confusion. Never can human nature, one would imagine, take a more abject posture than is exhiliited hero; there is a character, an individuality, a fomily likeni!8s, common to the whole race of sots ; the pole, clayey, flaccid, clammy face, jiinchcd inevery feature : the weeping, fern^t- like, lack-lustre eye, the unkempt hair, the slattern shawl, the untidy dress, the slijishod gait, too well betray the confinmM' dninkard. The noises, t(X), of the asst'inbled topers are hideous; appalling even when heard in an atmosphere of gin. Imprecations, execrations, oil irgtttions, a])plications, until at length the patience of the publican, and the last copper of his customers are exhausted, when, rush- ing from behind his counter, assisted by his shopmen, he expels, vi et armis, the dilatory mob, dragging out by the heels or collars the dead drunkards, to nestle, as best they may, outside t'ne inhospitable door. Here, unobserved, may you contemplate the infinite varieties of men self-mctaphorsed into beasts; soaker, tippler, toper, muddler, dram-drinker, beer-swillcr, cordial-tinpler, sot. Here you may behold the barefiiot child, hungry, naked, clay-faced, handing up on tip- toe that infernal bottle, which made it nnd keeps it what it is, and with which, when filled, it creeps home to its brutal father or infamous mother, the messenger of its own misery. Here the steady respectahle sot, the good customer, slides in, andjlings down his throat the frequent dram : then, with an emphatic "hah!" of gratification, drops his money, nods to his friend, the landlord, and for a short interval disappears. Here you may behold with pity and regret, and as much superadded virtuous indignation as the inward contemplation of your own con- tinence may inspire, the flaunting Cyprian, in ■ 1 5 ' - f' > (, "llfl^J StlliTl ■*'l»(l> I i 130 AMERICA. ovc*-drePsed tawflritics?, calling, in shnmelcss voice, for a (luarterii of " ijlcasant-driiiking" gin, which she liberally shares with two or three gentlptnen, wlio are being educated for the bar of the criminal court. You may con- trast her short-lived hey-day of j)ros|)erou3 sin with that row of miserablcs seated by the wall, whose charms arc lied, and whose voices arc husky, while they implore you to treat thcin with a glass of ale, or supplicate for the coppers they see you receive in change from the barman; and "who arc only i)ermitted that wretched ])lace of rest that they may beg for the benefit of the i)ublican, and f r his profit poison themselves with the alms of others. AMERICA. Our eastern borders behold the sun in nil its sjjlendor rising from the Atlantic, while the western shores are embraced in darkness by the billows of the Pacific. Our c.nmtry hiis indeed a vast extent of ieiTitJ>ry, with the diversified climates of the globe. On the one hand, is the ever-smiling verdure of the beau- tiful and balmy south, and on the f)ther, the sterile hills and sombre pine forests of the dreary north; and intermediate, the out- stretched region where the chilling blasts of winter are succeeded by the zephyrs and the (lowers of summer. The snow-clud summits of her mountains look down upon the elemental war of the stonn-clouds floating above the shrubless prairie, that realik^es the obsolete notion of the earth being an immense plain ; and, tow- ard the ocean on the east and the west, upon the broad rich valleys where the father of waters, the " endless river," and the majestic Columbia with its hundred branches gently winds along, or rapidly rush on to mingle thefr waters with the waves of the Pacific, the gulf of Mexico, or the magnificent expanse of our northwestern Caspian seas. Could the pow 3r of vislcm at once extend over our whole w idc domain, wliat a grand, euiiobling scene would be presented to a spectator standing upon one of the lofty peaks of the Rocky tr.ountuins, or, as Washington Irving aptly dei'ominates it, " the crest of the world." And then to take, upon a summer day, a bird's-eye view of all our roads, canals> railroads, lakes and rivers — the innumerable jKisteonches v/hirling along over our one hun- dred and thirty thousand miles of jioslroad ; or steamers gliding magically along our wa- ters ; our locomotives shootmg oft' like the comet upon its track; our ra))id intercourse between tfie seabijard and the inland mari- time cities; and our 8hi))s apjiroaching and departing with the commerce of the world ; with all the various, comjilicated movements of the country, town and city ; and then, like I Prior on Gronger hill, to hear all tiie ditieriiit musical and iliscmilant sounds coming u\) to ' this " crest of the world," if they could coni- I prehend the entire scene, from tlie bellowing of the bufralo, leading his shaggy hundreds over the prairie, to the roar of the cataract as it shidtes the earth with its stupendous plunge, with all this !)eiu'uth the eye and upon the ! car well might tht; enraptured spectator ex- ! claim, what a sublime panorama ! For variety, Iteauty, grandeur, and sublim- ity of scenery, what country can surpass our own ; what country can eipial the life-sustain- ing power that slumbers in her soil! With nil lier wealth, imjiro'cments and intelligence, and with our twenty millions of inhabitants, I still we have but jusr, commenced the scttle- I ments of our country, and are only on the borders of the mighty wilderness. Her uii- , develoi)cd resources are (?apable of sustaining J a free population of more than one hundred : millions. A century hence, if permitted to j enjoy the blessings ot peace, the United States j of America, with fifty stars upon her banner, may welcome, at the dawning of that New- Year's morn, no less than one hundred and twenty millions of happy freemen. How exalted may then be the intelligence and vir- tue of the people. The success of our efforts in the im|)r(weinent of our schools, and the 1 general difl'usion of knowledge, enables us to ! make an estimate of what our ])08terity of I the third generation are likely to become. Active must be the ardent imagination that can picture the scene at a glance. The ideal I laiidsca))e can not c([ual the reality, however j liv(dy may be the fancy. The idea of such I a view as we have fancied to be beheld from i the mountain toj> a hundred years frixn this day, can never be c(jnveyed by words, the j)icture must be painted by the wonder-work- nig power of the i)(!ncil ot ideality. .Our country ! Such is thy physical great- ness, and such the intellectual and moral ])Ower that now gives i)romisc of a glorious destiny, fur beyond all parallel in the annals of the world. For such a destiny may thy institutions be well sustained ; and may a halo of glory play around the name of every man who hiincstly kl)ors in behalf of his fel- lows and posterity, to uphold, purify, per- jHitnate and extend them. Ue.n'evolknck. — Benevolence is always a virtuous principle. Its operations always se- cure to others their natural rights; and it lib- erally superadds more than they are entitled to claim. ir ships ap])ronchiii}r nml commerce of tlie wurlil ; , coin|)linate() inovcrnr'iits 1 ami city; mid tlicn. like 11, to lieur all tlit; dilU'rciit laiit sounds coniiri;; u]) to iorld," if tlicy could cojii- ccue, from tlie bcllowiiii,' ling his shuiijiy hundreds the roar of the caturnct as rith its stupendous plunpe, ith the eye and up(jn the ! enraptured spectator cx- iic panorama ! ity, grandeur, and sublim- t country can surpass our can C(pial the life-sustain- iibers in her soil! With o'cments and intelligence, y millions of inhabitants, ISC eonnnenced the settle- :ry, and are only on the :'Cy wilderness. Ilcr un- i are capable of sustaining f moio than one hundred ■y hence, if permitted to t peace, the United States fty stars upon her banner, he dawning of that New- ss than one hundred and ha))py freemen. How e the intelligence and vir- Tlic success of our etForts It of our schools, and the knowledge, enables us to of what our jiosterity of I are likely to become. lie ardent imagination that 10 at a glance. The ideal ((uqI the reality, however "ancy. The idea of such fancied to be beheld from hmidreil years {rum this conveyed by words, the nted by the wonder- work- ■ncil of ideality. inch is thy physical grcat- le intellectual and moral /es jmimisc of a glorious all ])arullel in the annals r such a destiny may thy II sustained ; and may a around the name of every labors in behalf of his fcl- , to uphold, purify, per- them. -Benevolence is always a Its operations always se- natural rights; and it lib- ore than tney are entitled :'\ I i-S.li.l I *"'f^«n a^'*p. i- >-mBje_iiitm ,mivj--«i 138 EXPULSION OF THE ACADIANS. THE WESTERN EMIGRANT. BT URS. L. H. 8I00URNET. Amid tliosc forest ahndea that proudly reared Tlieir nnsliorn beauty toward tlie favoring okiea, An axe rang sharply. There, with rigorous arm, Wrought a bold emigrant, while by his side His little son with question and response Beguiled the toil. " Boy, then hast never leeii Such glorious trees, and when their giant tmnka Fall, how the firm earth groans ! Rememberest thoa The mighty river on whose breast we sailed So many days on toward the setting son T Compared to that, our own Connecticut Is but a creeping stream." " Father, the brook That by onr door went singing, where I launched My liny boat with all the sportive boys. When school was o'or, is dearer far to me Than all these deep, broad waters. To my eye They are as strangers. And those little trees My mother planted in the garden bound Of our first home, from which the fragrant peach Fell in its ripeniag gold, were fairer sure Than this dark forest shutting out the day." " What ho I my little girl,"— and with light step, A fairy creature hasted toward her sire, And setting down the basket that contained The noon's repast, looked upward to hij face With sweet, confiding smile. " See, dearest, see Yon bright-winged parroquet, and hear the song Of that gay red-bird echoing through the trees, Making rich music. Didst thou ever hear In fabr New England such a mellow tone T" " I had a robin that did take the cmmba Each night and morning, and his chirping voice Did make me joyful, as I went to tend My snow-drops. I was always laughing there. In that first home. I should be happier now, Methinks, if I could find among these dells The same fresh violets." Slow night drew on. And round the rude hot of the emigrant. The wrathful spirit of the autumn storm Spake bitter things. His wearied children slept, And he, with head declined, sat listening long. To tffe swollen waters of the Illinois, Dashing against tlieir shores. Starting, he spake : " Wife ! did I see thee brush a-vay '» tear ? Say, was it so ? Thy heart was with the balls Of thy nativity. Then- sparkling lights. Carpets and sofas, and admiring guests. Befit thee better than these rugged walla Of shapeless logs, and this lone bormit-bome." " No— no I All was so still around, methought, Upon my ear that echoed hymn did steal. Which 'mid the church where erst we paid our vows So tuneful pealed. But tenderly thy voice Dissolved the illusion :" and the gentle smile Lighting her brow, the fond caress that soothed Her waking infant, reassured his soul, That wheresoe'er the pure affecMLnH dwell And strike a healthful root, is happiness. Placid and grateful to his rest he sank ; But dreams, those wild magicians, which do play Such pranks when Reason slumbers, tireless wrought Their will with him. Up rose the busy mart Of bis own native city, roof and spire, All glittering bright, in Fancy's frostwork ray. Forth came remembered forms ; with curving neck, '''be steed his boyhood nurtured proudly neighed — i'he favorite dog. exulting round his feet. Frisked, with shrill, joyous bark i familiar doors Flew open— greeting hands witli his were linked In friendship's grasp— he heard the keen debate From congregated haunts, where mind with mind Doth blend and brighten— and till morning roved 'Mid thj loved scenery of his fiitberland. EXPULSION OF TFv ^CiBIANS. Some dispute existing between the English and the French, respecting the territorial lim- its of both parties, the region about Hudson's bay, and the province of Acadie, since called Nova Scotia, to settle the matter, were ceded to Great Britain in 1713. Acadie was inhabited by an excellent French population. WHien these good peoide found their country yielded to England, and tl'.em- selves no longer subjects of the French king, they were grieved to be forced to acknowledge another master. They knew that the French and English were hostile to each other, and they dreaded to be compelled, some time or other, to take up arms against Frenchmen ; they, therefore, entreated the Engli.sh that they might never be forced to so painful a ser- vice, and might be excused from taking the oath of allegiance. This request received no special attention, but, for a time, a kind forbearance was exer- cised toward them. After a period of forty years, the English goveniment cnine to the conclusion that these neutral French, as they were called, might become dangerou.s to their interests by taking part with the Canadian French, their active enemies. On account of this presumed danger, without the least al- leged provocation, or the least show of justice, they took upon themselves to drive out of their possessions this peaceable, prosperous, and unoffending people. W.^.^ %fe,#S'W.J^a. iS-S^m0^^^^m^&mm ^^J^4 imi !S^^4 was so still around, niethoagbt, hoed hymn did stcnl, ch where erst we paid oor vows But tenderly thy voice 1 :" and the gentle smile hn fond caress that soothed caasured his soul, 3 pure afFectitnH dwell il root, is happiness. ateful to his rest he sank ; ild magicians, which do play eason slambers, tireless wrought Up rose the busy mart ty, roof and spire, In Fancy's frostwork ray. Bred forms ; with curving neck, >d nurtured proudly neighed — illing round his feet, oyous bark j familiar doora hands with his were linked -he heard the keen debate lonts, where miud wiili mind iten — and till morning roved J of bis ihtherland. OF TF iDIANS. dstin^ between tlie English specting the territorial lim- the region about Hudson's nee of Acadie, since called ttle the matter, were ceded 1713. jited by an excellent French a these good peojile found ed to England, and them- ibjects of the French king, » be forced to acknowledge ^hey knew that the French hostile to each other, and e compelled, some time or arms against Frenchmen ; itreated the English that 3 forced to so painful a ser- 3 excused from taking the sived no special attention, ind forbearance wns exor- After a period of forty government cnme to the se neutral French, as they become dangerous to their ; part with the Canadian B enemies. On account of ger, without tlie least al- >r the least show of justice, emselves to drive out of lis pea,ceable, prosperous, )ple. EXPULSION OF THE ACADUN8. 139 The Acndians had no warning of their fate. At harvest-time they were ordered to assem- ble in a certain district, and being collected, were informed they were prisoners — that their lands, cattle, and moveables, were no longer their own, but were confiscated by govern- ment — that they might take wliat tliey could convey away, but must immediately ijuit the province. In one single district, twohundredand fifty- five housi.'s, as many barns, eleven mills, and one church, were destroyed. Shijjs were in rcaiiincss to convey the persecuted Acadinns to ditrurcnt parts of the continent — to Lcniis- iana, to French Guiana in South America, and to distant places in the then British prov- inces on tlie Atlantic. These pcofile Lad been remarkable for their industry, their sliilful husbandry, their (Hire morals," and their exemplary ])iety. Their lands produced wheat and corn, potatoes and llax, abundantly. Their houses were con- venient, and furnished witli all things neces- sary to comfort. Their numerous flocks allbrded the wool which was manufactured in the family for their clothing. They had no paper-money, anil little silver or gold; and lived by simple exchange of commodities. So little contention arose among them, that courts and lawyers were needless ; the wise and experienced decided their small diirereii- ces. They were catholics ; the priests drew up their public acts, wrote their wills, and kept pf)ssessi< i *" he documents, until death called for t.- : e^ ..-v ion of them. To re([uite these serviceb, the inhabitants allowed thein one twenty-seventh of the harvest for their subsistence. At the time of the dispersion, the Acadians were 18,000 in number. No want existed among them; the poor were few, and the prosperous cheerfully supported those. These unfortunate people were the victims of their own integrity. Had they taken the oath which demanded of them to violate the best aftections, they might have retained their houses, th(;ir fields, and their flocks._ Their good feelings demanded only the innocent liberty of neutrality. In September, 175.5, Colonel Winslow, an officer, usually resident at Marshfield, Ply- mouth county, Massachusetts, was sent with the king's commission, to demolish the prop- erty of the neutrals, and to expel them, with- out exception, from the province. Colonel Winslow deeply regretted that he should be employed in this cruel service. He knew, 80 he said, that they were of "the same , species" with himself, and " it was disagree- able to his make and temper" to inflict pain. His first measure, on landing at St. Pre, was to moke prisoners of several hundreds of the 10 most considerable of the men of the settle- ment. " In consequence of their earnest en- treaties, the prisoners were permitted, ten at once, to return to visit their wretched families, and to look, for the last time, upon their beautiful fields, and their loved and lost homes." These unhappy men bore their misfortune with firmness, until they were ordered on board the transixirt-slii]), to be dispersed among ])eo|)le whose customs, htnguau'e, and religion, were opposed to all they held dear and soered. On the lOth of September, the prisoners were drown up six deep; and the young men, one hundred and sixty in number, were order- ed to go on board the vessels. They refused to do this, unless iheir families might be per- mitted to accompany them. This was denied, and the soldiers were ordered to do their duty. The wretched Acadians no longer resisted, but inarched from their chapel of St. Pre to the ships. The road from the chapel to the shore, just (/lie mile in length, was crowded with women and children, who, on their knees, an.». .V. 140 AGRICULTURAL SCIENCE. humlred anrl fifty p;rand-cliil al ie ^o say what they are. Flesh is "'r>lc up of solid fibres, cells, mem- l)runes— all of an organized structure— with fat ; it also contains a very large (lunntity of liiiuid matter, called the juice of the flesh. Tliis juice is a solution of a great many ele- ments or substances in water ; the weight of tlie water itself being many times that of all the dissolved substances put togethir. Lie- bin's investigations have been directed to the analysis of these substances. He takes a muss of ten jxmnds of newly-kilhd flesh, re- duces it to a fine mince, mixes it with water, and sijuee/.es the whole moss through a linen bus, wiit'l lie 1'"" < xtracted as much of the li(lTiid contents as possible, and left only the sroperties Liebig has de- tailed in reference to the new substance, and by them a key will be found to its uses in the living body. The action of a strong acid on kreatine creates a second substance hitherto unknown •to chymists, which is alkaline in its nature, called by Liebig A-rM//«//ir. This sui>staii(:c. liowever, may not only be i)rodnecd from kreatine, but it is founif in tin system of an- other jiennanent constituent, and as such its ])roperties deserve and have received a dis- tinct investigation. The original kreatine, resolved by an ocid into kreotiiiine, is next resolved by l)oryta into two oth(;r eU'ment^^ one of them urta, already well known; but the other is a com- pletely new siilistance of the alkaline chnriic- ter, named sarcosinr, and aiipiirently worthy of being stu e lactates of flesh rc- g a sejjirate investigation, the characters of these groat ents — krcatine, kroatinine, ic acid — and the compounds R now turns to what are cnll- elements, such as phosphoric I other alkalies, and founds a :ion upon the presence and jf the lactic and phosphoric It idea of the speciJation is, s the substance ths^ directly ition, or whose consutniition RESEAHCHES ON FOOD. 143 gives the animrd heat; and that the sugar and starch taken in our food are changed into lac- tic acid, in order to become respiratory ele- ments. In tact, the use of sugar is to supply the laeti<; aci 1 constituent, which has to serve I his and other purposes in the body. Another verv refined sjieculation is olVcred by the nulfinr, founded on the fact, that the alkali contiiinod in the llesh is |)otush, and the alkali crintiiined in the blood is soda. Me shows how the chymical properties of jihosphoric acid and soda, which go together in the blood, would expliiin the process whereliy nature makes the exehunge of carbonic acid for jiure oxygra(-tical inferences from the dis- coveries already made. In the first )iTace, he shows how the boiling of meat acts upon the various constituents of the jui('e. We reiptire, for the support of our ninscle, not merely the fibrous matter of ani- mal ilesh, but all the array of the albumen, lactates, phosphates, kreatine, &c., already mentioned : if any of these arc allowed to escape, we are deprived of some needful cle- ment, and our system sutlers. Now, cold water can dissolve the great mass of these important ingredients, so that if meat is ])ut into cold water, and slowly boiled up, the wnter will have carried oil all the albumen and sev(;ral other substances, and the remain- ing beef will be u kind of husk, iiisullicient to- nourish the system, unless the water it has been boiled in is taken at the same time in the form of soup. To boil beef without losing the nutritious and savory elements, Lit" big gives the following directions : the water is, in the first place, to be put into a brisk boiling state ; iiito this boiling water the meat should be plunged, and allowed to lie for a few minutes; it is then taken out, and cold water is to be poured into the boiler fill the heot lie reiluced far below boiling, or to about 1(50 degrees; the meat is then ]nit in again, and kept in the water at this tempera- ture for two or three hours. Everything i ■ in this way effected that can render the flesh jileasant and wholesome as food. The con- tuct with the boiling water at the outset co- agulates the albumen of the flesh all round the surface of the meat, and closes up its pores with a solid wall, that none of the internal juices can pass through, and the meat is preserved in all its integrity while undergoing the action of the heat. On the other hand, when we wish to hav(i a rich soiij), we must take means for thorough- Iv extracting the various elements of the fleshy juice, for these elements are the essen- tial portion of a soup. A perfect soup would be a mixture of all the soliiide consliiueiits of the muscle — in fact, Liebi^'s original mother licpifir, which he wrought ujuin to bring out all the variims substances already enumerated. Accordingly, the plan of ma- king soup is as follows : — '• When one ])ouiid of lean beef, free of fat, and separated from the bones, in the fine- ly-ehoi)])ed state in which it is used for becf- sausnges or mince-meat, is unifonnly mixed with its own weight of cold water, slowly heated to lioiling, and the liquid, after boiling briskly for a minute or two, is strained through u clotfi from the coagulated albumen and the lil)rine, now become hard and homy, we ob- tain an erpial weight of the most aromatic soup, of such strength as can be obtained even by boiling for hours from a ])iecc of flesh. When mixed with salt, and the other usual adilirions by which soup is usually seasoned, and tinged somewhat darker by means of roast(Ml onions or burnt sugar, it forms llic very best soup that can be prejiared from one pound of flesh." An extract of meat thus prepared :s found to be an invaluable provision for un army in active service. Administered along with a little wine to wounded soldiers, it immediate- ly restores their strength, exhausted by loss of lilood, and enables them to sustain the fatigue of removal to the nearest hospital. Of course what is so useful in this extreme case must be nijaful in thousands of minor occasions of bodily j'Tostration. The loss of strength means the los of the substances that support vitality, such as these very ingredients of fleshy juice. The fleshy fibre itself is wasted more slo.vly than the substances that float in the liquid that invests it; so that, in fact, a supjily of these mutters has a more instantaniMius ac".I^>i. than any other refresh- ^ ment. We can thus exp'-in the effect of | sonjis upon convalescent potients. No doubt the jicrfect soup of Liebig's description would be found to have a far greater strengthening ])ower than the generality of those in com- mnn use. There is one other principle of very great consequence stated. It is, tliat the gastric juice of the stomach, which dissolves the solid food into a liquid jnilp, has nearly the same ingredients as the juice of flesh ; so that the power of digestion will be very much m f km.1 'W ! . 'iS=:~'phi.^Vii^WStH!iefM^fEimiifi^' 144 THK HINDOO SCHOLAR.— LYCUH0U8. iti a scholar : the sight of a girl witii u book in her Iminl, however common ninong n», was tCli lately very unusual in India, In her left hand she liolds one of the work-bags sent out by the ladie* of England as rewords for the best behoved girls. The couteinjilation of this subject, will sug- gest to every one some of the achantoges to be derived from Chri8tiani7.ing Indio ; and we hope the time is not far distant, when schools in India will be as common as they are among us. Such a state of things would gloddrn the heart of every philanthropist, and wotild elevate and ennoble a people who only wants proper education and mstruction to bo great and good. alFected by the supply of the constituents of | thrown over the head and shouhlers. The juice to the system" Hence a gixA flesh- i book in her right liund shows that she extract soup, besides giving matrriuls to the muscle, provides the solvent liijuiil of the stoMiiich, and facilitotes digestion. To jwoplc sullering from indigestion in the sense ot de- Hciency in the gastric juice, the supply of this materiol is the natural remedy. Another useful hint is also suggested by this connexion of stomach and muscle. The digestion of the fo(Ml, and the exertion of the muscles, consume the same ingredients, so that both operations can not well be sustained together beyond a certain limit. Moreover, it natural- ly' follows that rest durinjj; one operation will cause increase of energy m the other. Dur- ing the height of the digestive action, muscu- lar exertion can not well be afforded, unless there is a great overplus of the common ali- ment. It is well known that when digestion is V "ak, rest after meals is necessary, and that excessive exercise unfits the stomach for its work. The explanation now afforded may supply practical wisdom on this head to all men. Liebig has also pointed out the effect that the salting of meat has on the precious con- stituents of its juice. The 8al|; withdraws a great portion of these dissolved matters, which are thrown away with the brine. The in- jatiousness of a long course of salt provisions 19 thus distinctly accounted for. In these investigations, Liebig has made use of flesh derived from a great range of animaU, and has determined the comparative richness of each in the various substances in question. He has tried the flesh of ox, roedeer, horse, hare, fox, fowls, fishes, (Sec. In this way he is likely to furnish, what has been sought for in vain by other methods, a eomporiaon of the nutritive qualities of the different kinds of foo!^9^-^- •i-t.^-j.t ■fcit?-;..' 146 LYcuaaus. sittinR nt tnblc, with the mogistrntrs r.f Spnrtn. | diil not number more than two or three hun- Thc lu•\^^M)^l i)riiirc wns brought to hiui. mid , tired tliousoiid. takiiip llic ii.funt in his arms, Ik; inim.diuti'ly | Rctuniiiig from the frrt of the Brnnuns iiaincd ii (Jliiirilttus, mid procluimfd liim kiiia of Spuria — ufur which, os njirnt, he provided for his proper cure and ('(hication. Tlicru was tlius thrown u|Min this noble prime two great cares — the govcnimciit of the reahii us resent, nnd the protcrlioii of the and the teinpli s of Kgypt, Lycurnus set him- (lelf tsteadily at the great woA of reform. First he visited the Delphio oracle, nnd the Spartans heard with veneration, n sentence they were Blrea re- spect due to 8Ui)erior wisdom : and when, to these consli, rations, we add the fact that in common with all the reformers and legislators of pa^t ages, he invoked the authority of re- ligion, we shall not be astoni.shed at the re- sult of his efforts in remodeling the institu- tions of his country. We must consider, also, that the free citizens of Lacedsemon ^ re than two or three hun- the frpt of the Brnnn"* Kgypt, Lyciirgus »pt him le HTvat wortt of reform. •' Drlphii"; oruclf, mid the th vriifrntioii, n Hciitrnce well (liH|M)8C(l to hclirvc — wii'dotii, transccndiM.! the humanity. He tlirn nv V pnrty of the best citizens ugh lu- inet with an o\}])U' i Ht tiiiics to fhrenten his ind courage at h'njjth tri- •y olistaclc, and he estab- fiiutioim for Spurta, which centuries, and which gave II all succeediiia: times, vas to reform the great and he monopoly of wealth by '.ssarily fduced the greot to extreme i)overty. At ed by the kmp, a senate ablished, ccmsiHting of the in the state, and the voire ;urgU8 destroy! d the exist- tracts of land, vested in Hid the soil of Laccdicmon, >i the state, was divided and their rights in the soil ach provisions that nofim- veil of the irienns of sup- l iiarticularly informed of lich attendeil this rnrent9 to their young. They nurse, and feed, and pro- tect tiienn till they arc oble to provide for themselves. But many of the inferior ani- mals, on the other hand, never know or care for their ollspriug. Not a few of them indeed, as the insect tribe, bestow great poins in con- structing nests for the pj{g« of their future young, anf ewry kind, which he often brought from o great dis- tance, seizing them with his mouth ; and of these he began to form a kind of carpet. But ns the materiols which form the first part of his edifice might be carried away by the move- ments, or oscillation of the water, he hod the precaution to bring some sand, with which he filled his mouth, and deposited it on the nest, in order to keep it in its ploce. Then, in or- der to moke all the substances thus brought together adhere to each other, he pressed his be Htrrnni ; but \tn na- Uioulil return t" vlif m-fon youiii' nrc oIiIp to Iravrl : k a|)|)lifN to rrinny ini^ra- cavo tlm d their progress, a min- s detail of which he lately Academy of Sciences at ebai^ks iiaving selected a lut constructing their nests. " each of the males that lis work, heap up in the pieces of uraea of every 1 brought from a great dis- i with his mouth ; and of )rm a kind of carpet. But lich form the first part of carried away by the move- 1 of the water, he had the some sand, with which he d deposited it on the nest, in its place. Then, in or- tie substances thus brought each other, he pressed his I sliding slowly, as if by a creeping, and in this way ;r by means of the mucus his skin. By this opera- ;ted materials form a kind lid floor, on which the rest be reared. The execution •8 with a feverish perseve- . In order to satisfy hira- irts are sufficiently united, toral fins with great rapid- iner as to produce currents le nest; and if he noticet TliK LAMA. 149 that the pieces of grans ore moved, h« prnsse* liieiii diiwii with hi'* Hiiout, hi'upH «ntid noon theni. (Iritt.Ti'* thim, mid uiue-. tlinn tiejether ii^iiiii. When ihr' priH-es^ Iiiim piiched this point, he eliiHWH iimre Milid niiiteiialH— he Hci/eH iinall ])iei'es of woimI .if slruwMiii his moiilti, Hill presses them into the !hi<:k places, or on lite surface of the lirsl c m-itriieiimi. It he tiii'ls, whi-n attempiiii;.' to iritroduee thitn, ihiit the position doi's not 4ii»Vi(ieiitly answer the piirpnse. he draw* tliem "Ut numii, seizes thrill lit another part, aiiiiiii 'inerls them, and imijies them forward, luilii he ascertain that he hi-i made the best possilile use of them. OccaMOtially, however, in spite of all his cure, there are portions whiidi owinic to their slnipe, will not ccmlbrin to tlu- u.neral plan. These he draws out, carries to a di-tiiiiee, and aban- dons anil jirocee.ls to select others. When he has succeeded in buildini; the (loort and side- walls, he then underiakestlie rocd", which is constructed of the same ni iterials, carefully glued and compacted togetlier, by the same viliratory pressure of his body. Meanwhile he takes care to secure an opening in the ceii- , tre of the nest, by reiieatedly thrusting in his I) head, and the greater part of liis biidy." The ' nt!st being thus finished, tlie male, which is I distinguished by his vivid coloring, darts out I and invites a female todcposite her eggs in the I place wii' -h lie has just prepare. I tor tlieir re- { i.eption. The female enters, ami having ile- ! posited her ova in the cavity, darts out at the opposite side at which she entered, and thus I makes an open passage through both sides ol I the iiest. Several females in succession are I thus invited todcposite their spawn ; and thus the nest becomes a rich magazine of ova. I The male now becomes the sole guardian of this deposito ; for not only do the females take no care of it, but they become its formidalile ,.,„,inios — forming part of those numerous co- alitions which attempt to jdundrr it, and satis- fy their voracious appetite, by devouring the 1 ova. In his defensive exertions, no obstacle can divert him, or daunt his courage, during the whole month requisite for the develop- ment of the ova. In order to strengthen the nest, he now covers it with stones, the size of which is sometimes eipiul to half his body, and which he raovs along with great labor. In this process he alw iys reserves one or more openings, through which he ot>en drives currents of water, by the rapid motions of his fins — these currents seem to be necessary in clearing away objects from the eggs, for if not thus cfeaiised. they are found all to perish. It is wonderful to see with what courage he beats away successive numbers of his foes, striking them with his snout, and erecting his i long sharp spines. Sometimes, when about I to be overpowered with numbers, he resorts tn »tr»tagem, and ilurts suddenly ont of his nest, as if in iiursu't of some |>rey. This fre ipiently deceives tlie atfaekiiig stiekli liiu ks, and ili'ey nis-h after him, in hopes of sharing tli> prey ; »■"' tbustlle^ are decoyed rnun tlie nest. \s the |»lieating the beasts to resume their jcmrney. If thn lamas are disjiosed to continue their course, they follow the Indian in good order, at a regular pace, and very fast, for their legs lire exUemely long; but when they are in ill- humor, thev do not even turn their heads toward th(!'s[ieaker, but remain motionless, standing or lying down, and gazing on heaven witli looks 80 tender, so melancholy, that we might imagine these singular animals had the consciousness of another life, of a hiipjiier ex- istence. The straight neck, and its gentle majesty of bearing, the long down of their always clean and glossy skin, their supjile and 'timed motions, all give them an air, at once timid and sensitive. It must be so in fact, for the lama is the only creature employed by man, that he dares no-^ atnke. If it happens (which is very seldom), that an Indian wishes to obtain, either by force or threats, what the lama wll not willingly per- form, the instant the animal finds himself affronted by words or gesture, he raises his head with dignity, or without attempting to escape ill-treatment by flight, he lies down, turning his looks toward Heaven, large tears flow fTeely from his beautiful eyes, and m half or three quarters of an hour, he expires. Happy creatures, who appear to have accept- ed lite on condition of its being happy. •tij v.m I A ^^K TIIAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND.-NO. 4. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. Wf. mnde an excursion from Jerusalem, to the Jonlim and the Dead sea ; poing by way of ]J(."thuiiy and Jericho, and retuniinj; l)y the convent ot St. Saba. There is at this day, so mucli danger of falling among thieves, m going d(jK'n from Jerusalem to Jericho, that travellers join parties when they can, and unite their guards into a corps of armed men. Our own party of four, joined the ten with whom we had travelled in the desert : and four stnmgcrs — European gentlei.''en — re- ([uested permission to ride with us. Thus we were eighteen : and the dragomen, cooks, horsekeeiicrs, and mule-drivers, who took charge of our tents and baggage, and ten armed guar.is, swelled our number to that of a cara- van which no robljcrs were likely to attack. Indeed we scarcely saw anybody the whole way. The dangerous part of the road ap- peared deserted, and the plain of Jericho, once studded with towns, and filled with fertility, lay before us almost as lifeless as the basin of the Dead sea. I We left Jerusalem bj' St. Stephen's gate, ! — my three friends, myself, and our servants j and baggage, and met the rest of the travel- ling party at the bridge, in the valley of Je- I hoshaphat, at 9 > . M. We proceeded by the | camel road to Bethany, which winds up the | side of Olivet, and crosses its ridge to the east. As soon as we had passed the ridge, Bethany came in view, lying on the eastern slope of the mount of Olives, and, as we all know, " fifteen furlongs" distance from Jerusalem. It is now a village inhabited by about twenty families ; a very poor place ; but looking less squalid than might be expected, from its houses being built, as everywhere in that country, of stone — square, substantial, and large, compaied with cottages in England. Its position on the side of the hill is very fine, seen from below. Fyfore descending the hill, however, we alighted from our horses to visit an old tomb, which is called the tomb of Lazarus. No en- lightened traveller believes this to be really the place where Lazarus was buried : but to see any ancient tomb on that spot, was an opportunity not to be missed ; and we gladly went down the dark rock-hewn steps, to the little chamber, where some, corpse had once been laid. I have often wished thot the old painters had enjoyed such opportunities ; and then we should have had representations of Lazarus coming forth from chambers in the rock, anil not rising from such a grave as is dug in fluropean churchyards. The lime- stone rocks of Judea, are full of holes and cav- erns ; and we know from the Scriptures how abundantly these were used by the old inhab- itants, as dwellings for themselves and tlu'ir cattle, as a shelter to the wayfarer, a refuge to the fugitive, a hiding-jilace for robbers, and a jjlo'^e of deposite for the dead. Where a cavern was found with holes or recesses in its sides, a little labor, would make it an exten- sive place of burial. By squaring the entrance, and giving some regularity to the arch of the roof, a handsome vestibule was obtained ; and then the recesses were hewn into form for the reception of bodies. Sometimes these reces- ses had j)its ; sometimes niches in their walls, so that each recess would contain several bod- ies : and sometimes they were small, so as to contain only one each. Sometimes the vesti- bule opened out into passages, which had re- cesses on each hand ; so that a large comj)any of the dead might lie hidden in the heart of the mountain. The whole was secured from wild beasts and other intrusion, by a stone door fitted to the entrance, or a large block rolled up against it. Those who have seen these Eastern tombs can never again be puz- zled, as I was in my childhood, when reading of " the chambers of the grave," and of the dead calling to one another in the house of death, and of the stone being rolled away from the mouth of the sepulchre. Many a child wonders, as I did, how the way was made clear for La/.arus to come forth, merely by the removal of a stone : but, once having stood looking in at tlie door of n se])ulchre, how viv- id becomes the jncture of Jesus standing there, and calling to Lazarus with " a loud voice," to come forth ! How one hears that voice echo- ing through the chambers of the tomb, and sees the dead man in his ceremcn aijpenr- ing from the ste])s of the vault, or the shadow of the recess ! In the toinb which we explored at Bethany, the vaults went down a considerable way, in- to the rock. One flight of deep, narrow steps led us into a small vaulted chamber ; and two or three or more steps, narrower still, into the lowest tomb, which had little more than room for one body. The monks, when taken as guides, show in the village, what they call the house of Martha and Mary, and that of Simon the Leper : but we did not incjuire for these, having no wish to mix up anything fab- ulous, with our observations of a place so in- teresting as Bethany, We looked back upon the village again and again, as we descended into the valley ; and it was painful to lose sight of the place where Jesus was wont to go to solace himself with the friendship of Lazarus and his sisters, and rest from the conflicts which beset him in the great city over yonder ridgd. But we are now on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, and from the Scriptures how re used by the old inhab- for themselves and their o the wayfarer, a refu^(! ing-))lace for robbers, and for the dead. Where a ith holes or recesses in its would make it an exten- By squaring the entranre, alarity to the arch of the stibulo was obtained ; and re hewn into form for the Sometimes these reces- nies niches in their walls, 'ould contain several bod- they were small, so as to h. Sometimes the vesti- jiassoges, which had re- ; so that a large company e hidden in the heart of whole was secured from ler intrusion, by a stone itrance, or a large block Those who have seen can never again be puz- ehildhood, when reading f the grave," and of the another in the house of lie being rolled away from jpulchre. Many a child low the way was made o come forth, merely by le : but, once having stood r of a sepulchre, how viv- ■e of Jesus standing there, is with " a loud voice," to me hears that voice echo- imbcrs of the tomb, and n his cereme.i'i a))pear- " the vault, or the shadow we explored at Bethany, n a considerable way, in- ght of deep, narrow steps aulted chamber ; and two )s, narrower still, into the liad little more than room monks, when taken as village, what they call . and iVIary, and that of lut we did not in(iuire for li to mix up anything fab- rvations of a place so in- ipon the village again and led into the valley ; and : sight of the place vi'hcre ■) to solace himself with zarus and his sisters, and 8 which beset him in the r ridgd. But we are now ;rusalem to Jericho, and Defile between Jerasalem aod Jericbiv J. .:,.) I«''ib ii I ■ ■,iiff:iiSV:rKiif^?^- '■:---' Ruins of Jericho. alinut to pass amonj; tlie fastnesses of the thieves, who seem to iiavc infested this region ill nil times. After ridinp; along the valley, sometimes on the one hill ami sometimes on the other, for three or four miles, we left be- liiud us the scanty tillage spread along the bot- tom of the valley, and began to ascend to the hollow way which is considered the most dan- gerous spot of all. Here Sir Frederick Hen- niker was stripped and left for dead, by rob- bers in 1820. His servants fled and hid them- selves on the first alarm. When they return- ed, he was lying naked and bleeding in the sultry road. They put him on a horse, and carried him to .lericho, where he found suc- cor. Perhaps he was thinking of the parable of the Samaritan when this accident befell him. I was thinking of it most of the way. Another story was presently after "full in my mind ; — a beautiful catholic legend which was told me by a Gennan friend in America, when I little dreamed of ever travelling over this spot. Our road now gradually ascended the high ridge from which we were soon to over- look the plain of Jericho. The track was so stony and difficult, as to make our progress very slow : and the white rocks under the mid-day sun gave out such heat and glare as made me enter more thoroughly into the story of Peter and the cherries, than rny readers can perhaps do. And yet the many to whom I have told the legend in conversation have all felt its beauty. It is this. Jesus and two or three of his disciples went dowTi, one summer-day, from ,'erusalera to Jericho. Peter — the ardent and ea^er Peter — was, OS usual, by the Teacher's side. On the road on Olivet lay a horseshoe, which the Teacher desired Peter to pick up : but which Peter let lie, as he did not think it worth iIk trouble of stooping for. The Teacher stoo])t'd for it, and exchanged it in the village for a measure of cherries. These cherries he car- ried (as eastern men now carry such things) in the bosom-folds of his dress.* When they iiad to ascend the ridge, and the road lay be- tween heated rocks, and over nigged stones, and among glaring white dust, Peter became tormented with heat and thirst, and fell behind. Then the Teacher dropped a ripe cherry at every few steps ; and Peter eagerly stooped for them. When all were done, Jesus turned to him, and said with a smile, " He who is above stooping to a small thing, will have to bend his back to many lesser things." From the ridge we had a splendid view of the plain of the Jordan — apparently as flat as a table to the very foot of the Moab mount- ains, while the Dead sea lay, a blue and mo- tionless expanse, to the right — (the south) — and barren mountains enclosed the whole. The nearer mountains were rocky, brown, and desolate, with here and there the remains of an aqueduct, or other ancient buildings mark- ing the sites cf settlements which have passed away. The distant mountains were clothed in the soft and lovely hues which can be seen only through a southern atmosphere. The plain was once as delicious a region as ever men lived in. Josephus calls it a " divine re- • " Give and it shall be given nnto jron ; good measare, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men gi»e into your bosom."— Luke VI. 38. "%.. lay a horseshoe, which tlio iter to pick up : but whicli (lid not think it worth lh>. for. The Teacher stoo])ed ;ed it in the village for a 3. These cherries he car- !n now curry such things) :)f his dress.* When they idge, and the road lay be- ;, and over nigged stones, white dust, Peter became t and thirst, and fell behind. dropped a ripe cherry at ind Peter eagerly stooped ill were done, Jesus turned vith a smile, " He who is small thing, will have to any lesser things." ve had a splendid view of ■dan — apparently as flat as ■ foot of the Moab mount- ad sea lay, a blue and mo- [1 the right — (the south) — ains enclosed the whole, ins were rocky, brown, and ! and there the remains of ler ancient buildings mark- lements which have passed It mountains were clothed dy hues which can be seen uthem atmosphere. The delicious a region as ever ephus calls it a " divine re- tiall be given nnto yon ; good ^rn, and shaken together, and en give into yoar bosom."— 154 TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. The River Jordan. gion ;" and tells of its miles of gardens and palm-{!Toves : and here grew the balsam which was worth more than its weight in sil- ver, and was a treasure for which tlie kings of the Ea.st made war. Jericho is called in the Scriptures the city of palm-trees ; and Jericho was bnt one of a hundred to\vns which peoj)led the plain. Now, all near was barren ; an foot of the mountains ; but in the midst was a strip of verdure, broad, sinuous, and thickly wooded, where we knew that the Jor- dan flowed. The palms are gone ; and the sycamores, and the honey which the wild bees made in the hollows of their stems. The balsam which Queen Cleopatra so coveted as to send messengers from Egypt for plants to grow at Ileliopolis, has disappeared from the face of I he earth: and, instead of these, and the fruits and sugar-canes which were renowned in far countries, we find now little but tall reeds, thorny acacias, and trees barren of blos- som or fruit. Tfie verdant strip, however, looks beautiful from afar, and shows that the fertility of the plain has not departed. There is enough for the su]iport and luxury of man, were man but there to wish for (>nd enjoy them. We descended by a road, like an irregular staircase, the steepest hill I ever rode down. The gentlemen dismounted ; but the heat was so excessive that I ventured to keep my seat. When I glanced up from the bottom, and saw the last of the party beginning the descent, it looked so fearful that I was jzliid to tiini away. AVe were now at the foot of the mountain called Quaruntania, supposed by the monks to be the scene of the TiMnptati-;r^; y hejn;innin2; the descent, it It I was i^liid to turn away, the fodt oF tlio moimtain ., supposed by the iMouks the Teinptutii)ii. A few afar, every year, to spend lountaiu, barely siipporliiii; ic by the hi>rbs they tiiid rdlv sav tliat there cati be fixinc on this mounlaiii as the choice of it is jiroba- mmanding the |i!aiii of tlte es — onre no niifair speei- loms of tlie earlli, and the rhe caverns in the face of used as dweliiii'i* or tombs, I of robbers. When some :1 a desire to reaili the low- iheikh who was responsi- ' our ])arty, drew lils sword to show the dagger, and !mbered, that the men of to Elisha the pro[)hef , that ;prin!i was not goml, either Iter their land for tillage ind that though their city could not eni')y it for tbi8 Slisha purified the sprinja;, irs were healed unto this 5 spring, now called Ain ped in the afternoon, and truly delicious. Nothing l-Pl TKAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. 155 could be prettier than this encampment, m a spot so forest-like us to contrast strongly with all we had seen for many weeks past. Our tent was cl(«e upon the brink of the clear rushing brook : but the heat was so excessive •hat we could not endure the tent, and had our dirmer table placed under a tree, whose roots wer<^ wash* 1 by the stream. Broad lights glanced upon the rippling waters, and deep green shadows lay upon its pools. Our horses were feeding in the thicket beyond : and the Arabs sot in groups near the tents. Other parties of our compony were dining or lying on the brink of the stream. Every en- campment of travellers in these places is beau- tiful ; but I never but once saw one so beau- tiful as this. After a walk to the remains of an a(iueduct, and other traces (mere traces) of former habitation in the days when Jericho was a great city, I went, with one companion, to see the spring, which was but a short way from our tents. The water bubbled up from under some bushes, and spread itself clear and shallow, among some squared stones, which seemed to show that the source had once been enclosed. By this time it was dusk : the even- ing star hung obove the nearest hill. All was silent about us, except the rustle and dip of the boughs which hung above the water. My companion and I found the temptation to bathe quite irresistible. Under the shadow of a large overhanging tree there was a pool deep enough for the purpose, and there we bathed, rejoicing with the people of Jericho in the sweetuf-ss of the water. . The eastern traveller feels a strong incli- nation to bathe in every sucred sea, river, and spring. How great the interest is, and how like that of a new baptism, those at home may not be able to imagine ; and such may de_spi8e the superstition which leads hundreds of pil- grims every year to rush into the Jordan. But, among all the trovellers who visit the Jordan, is there one, however far removed from superstition, who is willing to turn away without having bowed his head in its sacred waters] There was no moon to-night : but the stars were glorious when I came out of our tent to take one more look before retiring to rest. Here and there the watch-fires cast yellow gleams on the trees and waters: but there were reaches of the brook, still and cool, where the stars glittered like fragments of moonlight. This day stands in my journal as one of the most delicious of our travels. In the early morning, about five o'clch L ascended a steep mound near our encampir ' r t, and saw a view as ditferent from that of \m preceding day, as a change of lights could make it. The sun had not risen ; but there was a hint of its approach, in a gush of pale light behind the Moab mountains. The strip of woodland in the middle of the plain looked block in contrast with the brightening yellow precipices of Quarantaniaon the west. South- ward, the Dead sea stretched into the land, gray and clear. Below me, our tents and horses, and the moving figures of the Arabs, enlivened the shadowy banks of the stream. We were ofl' sinm after six, and were to reach the banks of the Jordan in about two and a half hours. Our way lay through the same sort of forest-land as we had encamped in. It was very wild ; and almost the only tokens of habita'tion that we met with, were about Ribhah— by some supposed to be the exact site of the ancient Jericho. This is now as miserable a village as any in Palestine ; and its inhabitants are as low in character as in wealth. No stranger thinks of going near it who is not well aiTned. Yet there is need to resort to no means but honest and veir mod- erate industry, to obtain a comfortable sub- sistence here— if only honesty were encour- aged, and industry protected by a good social state. The fine fig-trees that ore scattered around, and the abundant promise of the few crops that are sown, show that the soil and climate are not to blame. At this place there is a 8(piare tower, conspicuous afar above the trees, which some suppose to be the sole rem- nant of the great city : but it can hardly be ancient enough to have belonged to the old Jericho. - , , , , On a hillock in the midst of the brushwood, we saw a few birds of such size, that one of the party in a moment of forgetfulness, cried out " ostriches !" There are no ostriches in this country; but these cranes looked very like them, while on their feet. One by one they rose, stretching out their long legs behind them— certainly the largest birds I ever saw fly — or probably shall ever see. Though we had been told, and had read, that the river could not be seen till the travel- ler reached its very banks, we could not help looking for it. Three broad terraces have to be traversed ; and then it is sunk in a deep bed, where it rushes hidden among the wood- land. Its depth of water varies much at dif- ferent seasons ; though less now than former- ly. The Scriptures speak so much ot the overflow of Jordan ; and of the lion coming up at the swelling of Jordan, that it is sup- posed that fomieriy the river was subject to inundations which may hove formed the three terraces abovementioned, ana oauB.^d the extraordinary fertility of the plain ii - .i vlmes: and that the virild beasts which theu r.arbored in the bral >"'■■ come up to terrify the dwellers in the fields. However this may have been it is ». „ so now. The cbanv-.i la no doubt deepened; and the river ncv; in the fullert IB- fi it (1' if It' J* Mi ii sil »Jia 156 TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. season, only brims over its banks into the brakes, so as to stand among the canes, antl never reaches the terraces. Though we were all on the Ifwkout, and thonirh we reached the river at the spot which is cleared for the approach o( I he Easter oil- primi, we could not see the wat^'T till wo "o.-M almost touch it. The Unit n< 'i.ie to me of where it was, was from soan! oi' the party dis- mounting on the Pilgrim, i' beui'h — Whf-n I came rp — O! how beaii.if'n! it '/as!- iiow much more bentJtiful than all piciares ai.d all descriptions had led me to r -nect ! The only drawback was thi.t the stream was turbid ; — not only whitish, from n sulphuroiis admixture but .'nu(!oy. But it swept nobly along, with a strcJiy; >ind rapid current, and many eddies, gushing through the thicli woodland ard flow- ing in amt !ig tl^i tall reed-i, now smiting the white rocks of ihe o;>posicc shor^, imd now winding away out of sight, behind the pop- lars and acacitis an 1 lall reeii- which crowd its banks. It is i.v t a iiroad rive ;■ , but it is full of majesty from its force and loveliness. The vigorous, up-springing character of the wrwd along its margin, struck me much; and w saw it now in its viv-d Spring green. The pilgrims rush into the sacred river in such numbers, and wi)l\ so little precaution as to the strength of the. current, that no year passes without some h; s of life ; and usually several perish. Th.s year only one was drowned. "Whatever superstition there might have been among our company, it was not of this wild sort ; and we batiied m safety. The ladies went north ; the ;;entlemen south. I made a way through the thicket with difficul- ty, till I found a little cove which the current (Ed not enter, and over which hung a syca- more, whose lower branches were washed hy the ripple, which the current sent in as it passed. On these branches the bather might stand or sit, without touching the mud, which lay soft and deep below. The limestone pre- cipice ond wooded promontory opposite, made the river particularly beautiful here ; and sor- ry I was to leave it at last. It is useless to attempt to make out where the baptism of Jesus took place, or where his disciples and John administered the rite. And on the s[)ot one has no pressing wish to know. The whole of this river is so sacred and so sweet that it is enough to have saluted it in any part of its course. The belt of woodland soon turned away eastward, and we found ourselves exposed to extreme heat, on a desolate plain crusted with salt and cracked w'u irought. There had been a closeness anc "^-'Wness in the air all the momfr.^, whic'^; v* as very oppressive ; and now it was V orr • ual slow pace almost in- 1 tolerable. T t .' tiy horse to a fast canter. and crossed the plain as quickly as possible, finding this pace o relief to my horse as well as myself. The drift on the beach of the sea looked dreary enough ; ridges of broken canes and willow twigs, washed up, and lying among the salt and the little unwholesome swumps of thf. shore ; but the water looked bright and clcrir, and so tempting, that our horses put 'he'f noses down repeatedly, always turning ,-' \'. iiy in disgust. I tasted the water — about t '-ii "drops — and I almost thought I should nev- er ;..jt the taste out of my mouth again. And thir'. is the water that ixxjr Costigan's cofl"ee was made of ! Costigan was a young Irishman, whose mind was possessed with the idea of exjjlo- ring the Dead sea, and giving the world the benefit of his discoveries. It would have been a useful service ; and he had zeal and devo- teiiness enough JFor it. But he wanted either knowledge or prudence ; and he lost his life in the adventure, without having left us any additional information whatever. He had a small boat carried overland by camels ; and in this he set forth (in an open boat in the month of July ! ) with only one attendant, a Maltese servant. They reached the south- em end of the lake — not without hardship and difficulty ; but the fatal struggle was in get- ting back again. The wind did not favor them, and once blew such a squall that they had to lighten the boat, when the servant stupidly threw overboord the only cask of fresh water that they had. They were now compelled to row for their lives, to reach the Jordan be- fore they perished with thirst ; but the snn scorche(f them from a cloudless skjr, and the air was like a furnace. When Costigan could row no longer, his servant made some cofl'ee from the water of the loke, and then they lay down in the boat to die. But the man once more roused himself, and by many efforts brought the boat to the head of the lake. They lay helpless for » whole day on the burning shore, unable to do more than throw the salt water over each other from time to time. The next morning, the servant crawled away, in hopes of reaching Ribhah, which he did with extreme difficulty. He sent Costi- gan's horse down to the shore, with a supply of water. He was alive, and was carried to Jerusalem in the coolness of the night. He was taken care of in the Latin convent there ; but he died in two days. Not a note rela- ting to his enterprise was ever found ; and du- ring his illness he never spoke on the subject. Any knowledge that he might have gaineil, has perished with him ; and no reliable infor- mation could be obtained from his servant. Costigan's grave is in the American burying- ground ; and there I saw the stone which tells his melancholy story. He died in 1835. plain OS quickly as possible, relief to my horse as well drift on the beach of the sea ough ; ridges of broken canes . washed up, and lying among ittle unwholesome swamps of ;he water looked bright and mpting, that our horses j)ut n repeatedly, always turning I tasted the water — about [ almost thought I should nev- )Ut of my mouth again. And r that poor Costigan's cofl(;e a young Irishman, whose ssed with the idea of explo- ea, and giving the world the Mveries. It would have been ; and he had zeal and devo- for it. But he wanted either ■udence ; and he lost his life !, without having left us any nation whatever. He had a ed overland by camels ; and irth (in an open boat in the ) with only one attendant, a . They reached the south- ke — ^not without hardship and the fatal struggle was in get- The wind did not favor them, uch a 8(iuall that they had to t, when the servant stupidly I the only cask of fresh water They were now compelled lives, "to reach the Jordan be- hed with thirst ; but the sun 'rom a cloudless sky, and the mace. When Costigan could lis servant made some coflee of the lake, and then they lay It to die. But the man once imself, and by many efforts at to the head of the lake, less for » whole day on the mable to do more than throw ver each other from time to t morning, the servant crowled of reaching Ribhah, which he le difficulty. He sent Costi- Ti to the shore, with a supply was alive, and was carried to le coolness of the night. He of in the Latin convent there ; two days. Not a note rela- prise was ever found ; and du- he never spoke on the subject, i that he might have gained, ith him ; and no reliable infor- 1)6 obtained from his servant, e is in the American burying- ere I saw the stone which tells story. He died in 1835. There appears to be no satisfactory evi- di'nce, as to wliether uny lish are to be found ill the Dfad sea. Our guides said, that some sniall bliick-tish have i)ci'n seen there ; but others deny this. A dead fish has been found ' 1 the shore, near the spot where the Jordan enters the lake ; but this might have been cast up by the overllow of the river. It is said, lliat sinull birds do not lly over this lake, on account of the deleterious nature of its atmo- sphere. About small birds I can not speak ; but I saw two or three vultures winging their way down it obli(piely. The curious lights which hung over the surface, struck me as showing an unusual state of the atmosphere —the purple musky light resting on one part, and the line of silvery refrui-tion in another. Though the sky was clear after the morning clouds had jiassed away, the sunshine appeared dim ; and the heat was very opnressive. The gentlemen of the party who stayed behind to DUthe declared, on rejoining us at lunch- time, that they had found the common report of the buoyancy of the water of this sea, not at all exaggerated, and that it was indeed an easy matter to float in it, and very difficult to sink. They also found their hair and skin powdered with salt when dry. But they coiild not ad- mit the greasiness or stickiness which is said to adhere to the skin after bathing in the Dead sea. They were very positive about this; am' they certainly did observe the fact verj, carefully. Yet I have seen since my return, a clergyman who bathed there, and who de- clared" to me that his skin was so sticky for some "ays after, that he could not get rid of it, even from his hands. And the trustworthy Dr. Robinson, a late traveller there, says : " After coming out, I perceived nothing of the salt crust upon the body, of which so many speak. There was a slight pricking sensa- tion, especially where the skin had been cha- fed ; and a sort of greasy feeling, as of oil, upon the skin which lasted for several hours." The contrast of these testimonies, and the di- versity which exists among the analyses of the waters which have been made by chym- ists, seem to show that the quality of the wa- ters of the Dead sea varies. And it appears reasonable that it should ; for it must make a great difference, whether fresh waters have been pouring into the basin of the lake, after the winter rains, or a great evaporation has been going on, under the summer's sun. In following the margin of the sea, we had to cross a creek, where my skirt was splashed. These splashes turned presently to thin crusts of salt ; and the moisture and stickiness were as great a week afterward as at the moment. We wound among salt marshes and brakes, in and out on the desolate shore of this sea— this sea which is not the le*s dead and dreary for being as clear and blue as a fresh mount- ain tarn. As we ascended the ranges of hills which lay between us and the convent where we were to rest, the Jordan valley opened northward, and the Dead sea soutliward, till the extent traversed by the eye, was really vast. How beautiful must it have been once, wl: .n the Jordan valley, whose verdure was now shrunk into a black line amid the sunds, was like an intenninuble garden ; and when the " cities of the plain," stood bright and busy, where the Dead sea now lay blank and gray ! As I took my last look back, from a great elevation, I thought that so mournful a landscape, for one havmg real beauty, I had never seen. CULTIVATION OF THE MIND. It has sometimes been thought that the cultivation of the mind would be an injury to those who obtain their livelihood by manual labor ; that supposing every man, be his oc- cupation what it may, were to have his mind highly cultivated, it would render him uneasy in his lot. Nothing can be wider from the truth. A single word will exjjlain it— and that is, that as vou raise men toward equality in intellect anif education, you bring them nearer actual ecjuality — and the distinctions of ])roperty and occupation will sink away to nothing. Was Washington any less respect- ed when he became a practical farmer, than when at the head of the nation 1 No culti- vated, intellectual man, can be degraded by his employment. It is the mind that makes the man, and that makes one man e(|ual to another ; and if we were to solve the problem how to make a whole community contented, we would raise them as near to an eijuality in education as possible. The two best-edu- cated nations on the face of the earth, are, it is supposed, Denmark and the United States. The government of the one is despotism, and that of the other, its opposite, republicanism. And yet the inhabitantsof these two countries are probably the best contented of any in the world. An educated mind has so many resources within itself, that it has not to depend upon outward circumstances for happiness. A man with a cultivated intellect would feel neither disgrace nor uneasiness to have^ you find him at" the anvil; nor would you, if you had a mind rightly educated, respect him any the less. "I well recollect," says a celebra- ted statesman, " calling in my college-days, to deliver a letter of introduction, to a gentle- man whom I found cleaning out hi« bam- f'i 1 M "■it..». « sJis 168 CULTIVATION OP THB MIND. yard, with his leather apron girded round him and his team his only helpers. I knew that ho had led men in bottle in other days, and that then ho was the honored governor of one of the New England states: and I received a lesson from him by the call, which I trust I shall never forget. The interview made a deep impression on my heart." What must be the contentment of a community who needed so little of government that their chief magistrate might till his own little farm, and gain his bread by the sweat of his brow ! A very great number of our most valuable inventions and improvements ore to be traced to intelligent men in the common walks of life. And there can bo no doubt that in pro- portion to the intelligence of the mass of com- munity will be the advancement of the world toward its final glory. An intelligent man was a soap-maker. He noticed that after all the alkali had been ex- hausted, the ley would rapidly corrode his copper kettles. Unable to explain tho phe- nomenon, he took some of it to an eminent chymist. On analyzing it, the chyniist dis- covered a new substance, hitherto unknown, viz. : the metal called iodine. Further in- vestigation traced thu^ to the ashes, then to the sea-weed from whici\ the ashes had been made — then to the ocean, to salt springs and to all marine substances. A physician in Germany reads the account, and recollects that he had heard ihat burned sponge had been known to cure the horrible, and till then incurable, disease called the goi/re— which afflicts whole districts in the south of Europe. He conjectures that it is the iodine in the sponge which effects the cure, and he accord- ingly applies the iodine to the goitre, and it is foiind that it is almost on infallible cure. Thus a world of misery is prevented by the shrewdness of the soap-boiler. A few years since, the s. nrvy was the ter- ror of the seas. Whole cf ows were cut do^vn, and more than once the case has been known, in which the bodies of the dead sewed up in sail-cloth, have laid rolling on the deck, day after day, because the crew were too much withered to raise them over the nettings and commit them to the deep. Admiral Hosier, who sailed for the West Indies with seven ships-of-the-linc, during the last century, lost all his men twice over, during the single voyage, and himself died of a broken heart before he reached home. What a blessing did that man bestow, who informed the world that the simple acid of the lemon taken daily would banish this fearful disease ! It is now almost unknown even in the most crowded ships. , The discovery of Franklin, a mon at taat time in common life, by which the lightnings of Heaven are brought under the control of man, is on example m jioint. In Franco and Germany, where the lightnings ore far more destructive than with us, this discovery is valued as it ought to be. We might l(H)k at the lighthouse as it was, ond as it now is, to see the immense imjirove- ments which have been made, and in conse- quence of which life is saved in multitudes of instances. We might point to the Hfe- boot, which will now shoot out in the howl- ing storm, and which will ride over any raging of the deep, and show that it is to the iiittl- ligence of every-dny-loboring mechanics, that we owe this valuable machine for saving hu- man life. We might mention the sections of Europe where the at.nosphere is poisoned by malarious exhalations, and show what an amount of sickness and death has been pre- vented by quinine — a simple discovery, but one of immense value. It was found that the steel dust which was created by grinding needles, and which is in- expressibly minute, filled the atmosphere, and the eyes and the lungs, and invariobly caused consumption. Gauze veils of the finest texture were tried, but oil to no pur- pose. No veil could prevent it from entering the eyes and the lungs. At last a workman notices a child playing with a magnet— draw- ing the needles and steel dust after it — as we have all done in childhood. The discovery is now mode. A veil of fine mo^etic wire is drawn over the face — and the air is strained pure — all the dust of the steel being attracted and held by the wire, and the labor of grind- ing needles is now hardly more dangerous than any other business. These examples have been adduced (and they might be greatly extended)— and won- ders, like those achieved by the cotton-gin and by vaccination, might be dwelt upon al- most indefinitely— not because they are of course new, but because they show that mind and intelhgence in the workshop are as valu- able, and of as much use to the human family, as if they were employed in writing folios. One single fact brought into notice — one single phenomenon brought into view, and its explanation obtained, may be unmeasured in its results upon the world. Usefulness and respectability come from the union of a good heart and an intelligent mind,, and are to be monopolized by no station or occupation. While Scotland sends more of her sons to college, in proportion to her population, than any other country ; two of the New England states, Massachusetts and Connecticut, are next to her in this respect, and all New Eng- land, and also New York, far before her, in giving their children the blessings of free schools. We feel that these schools, far in :=yB "«&- M»L . )ucht under the control of e in point. In France onj the hghtnincs are far more with U8, this Ji«covery i» to be. at the lighthouse as it was, } see the immense improve- s been made, and in conse- life is saved in multitudes e might point to the life- low shoot out ill the howl- ich will ride over any ruging show that it is to the iiitol- ay-luboring mechanics, that ible machine for saving hu- night mention the sections the at.nospherc is poisoned alations, and show what an f)3 and death has been pre- ;c — a simple discovery, but alue. lat the steel dust which was ng needles, and which is in- ite, filled the atmosphere, [1 the lungs, and invariably ion. Gauze veils of the ire tried, but all to no pur- nild prevent it from entering lungs. At last a workman ayingvnth a magnet — draw- nil steel dust after it — as we :hildhof'n» iilciisuros to thr tnni:lil>i>rlnx)'l. anil till' iiciuhborhoiKl lufl iiii intercut in llie town, nnil the town in the nation, nntl the nuii'ii in other ■ oniitrips of the world. I)>'- praveil us is the hcnrt ot mnn, it wa« yet mude for hcnovoh'iit Bcl m, nod will never be in its due 111 .'ill iind vijjor unless it «xerci*o its(df for I he welfiire of the worlil. As the iuminnrv of duy wiis not crented so that all its rays will converge to one ])oint, but riUher m that they will diverge throus;hout the whole system of jdanets; mid as it R.ves liKht to the moon, but the moon instantly imnorts the bright gift to the earili, nnd the ciirtli redects it ^» thr. ,me of man; so the human constuii- lio.i %v . .1 ver designed for contracting its agencies within the sphere of its own ginnl, but for ditTusing its radiance throughout the whole family to which it belonois. Benevolence is a fundomental law of our moral being; and the man who labors for his fellow-men secures thereby the gratification of his most commanding pniirii.les of action; but he who lalwrs for himselt alone, stirs up against his own peace some of the most ope- rative elements of his nature. The Deity knew well that a disposition to labor for sel- fish ends is destructive of man's true interests ; and that a disposition to labor for the common good, is the only sure way of securing g(Kxl for self; thereiore has he devolved on us many acts of beneficence which be might him- self have performed as e; ,y as omitted. He miaht speak a single word to the Hindixi widuw as she ascends the funeral pile of Iwr hi'' ind, and she would p. down again in r ri . riiind ; but he chooses to set the sp cle before our own eye.-, and to U t us hear the ohrieks of the si ""immi luting woman, s. that our compassion imy be moved ni ' om- ener- gJBS enlisted in her service. He alls us to the bank« of the Oonges, and bids us look pon the mother forcing from her breasts the hild that w-^eps and 8truggk.M to remain with ..■r, and thi wing it into tiie stream where the eager alligators are gamboling for ''RJr prey. He could easily rebuke the fr ,tic mother, and she woukl pr^ss her loved one 'loser to her \> .- im; but he chooses to touch our i>iry, and uppeal to our benevolerv^e, and to command us to send bi^ gospel into '1 the wo 1.1. that it may ca.^t out the dem s of jiiKerstitinn and may let iht bond-sl he'e'heuism go tree. He bid:- i-; walk i nations over thi- dolorou , way tra' (le oar of .Tuggern. t, and walled on t nith the bones ot rushed victim set Hefore our eyes I dreds and thousands of living men, hanging n transverse beams upon hooks that have y> > jraied their n-us- ' rles, ntid swinging round ond rotmtl in torture ; I He jiiiices all these Imrliarous scenes brfnrp j our visioi\, so that the eye may utiiiet the I heart, atid the heart may be roused to a r.oly •purjMwe. For un to do, the work is left ; for our g(K)d it is, that we address oursflves to the w(trk in earnest; for the higln -it good of our whol' character, the good of benevolence encourage, I, of philanthropy developed, of a spiritual temper cherished and strengthen- ed; a giKxl purchased at threat f.ipmM, even til miseries of our own fellow-men — they 811 ring 80 that we may be made more com- poasiunaie. ^ of our lied iher He THE WASP FAMILY. Poets and essnyists are in the habit of likening the wasp to fops of another genus, and vice versa. Thi.s (juestionablc sort of reputa- tion these insects must ascribe to tlicir sjden- did caparis. n, and to their apparently useless position in the world. The simile is more true in a more curious respect ; for there are onnual reunions of these elittering creatures, ju.st as in the fashionobli v-nHd — a fashiona- ble season of a few moulli and then all dis- perse again. Tl economy of the wasp fami- ly possesses considerable interest, and deserves far more attention than, in our hostile state f fceliii' toward the race, we are readily (I - posed io believe. Tt is only necessary that the real ;;haractf r of the tribe should be known, to remove at least l' bl of laziness from it. That thev are a set Id, insolent, daring robbers, lio one can il ^ t give them their due, and we il admit Imi there is much in their habit -vingouradmir itioii, and that even their .. ..iaciOUBth "shave theirrcdeem- ing points. The genera' aspt 'ho i tsy dtt, or wasps, is sutSciently Ju < ir obviate the necessity >w hundred cells are thus constructed, and at ;th an interval of comparative repose awaits tl.r laborer, while she priMX'cds to fulfil her more proper duties as a parent. Single-liaiid- ed, she has laid the foundation of the vtsp- polis, and has marked out the general design if its future buildings ; but she must have fur- ther -Histuiice before the city will beiimipletc. Till walls, ot present bare and desolate, the palace empty and still, are soon to resound with the hum of life, and with the busy labors of a new generation. In the cells the insect deposites her ova, gluing them to the walls by an adhesive substance; these are soon hutched, they become Inrvic, and are for -iome time en- tirely dependent upon their pai nt's exertions for their supply of food. Shi is to forage for this numerous u>»\ voracio- ■ oro: , and runs about from cell to cell ^^ itn thi utmost solicitude, while the grubs put forth their mouths, and are fed by her just as the " < ol- low brood" of a bird is fed. Most pleasing is it to ibserve the anxious mother keeping watch ovei lier otrspring. ond apparently many a neeiile."- time popjiing her head into their snug cots, as if to see how they do, and to give a mouthful of food now and then to some render young larva not yet big enough to ))ut its head out to be fed ! A few weeks slip by — a great change has come over the vespiary : it is re- plete with life ; hundreds of workers hove been bom in the interim, and ore now laboring might and main, with the cmperess at their head, to extend the buildings, and enlarge the city. When complete, a vespiary has been calcu- lated to contain obout fifteen or sixteen thou- sand cells, each of which is thrice a cradle ; and therefore, in a single season, each iiest will probably be the birthplace of full thirty thousand wasps ! Such is the birth and development of this insect colony — a lesson to states, and nations, and individuals, of the certain results of in- domitable perseverance. Let us trace out its government and destinies. The enqieress — the protoplast of this interesting microcosm, the foundress of this bustling republic — is an exaggerated type of the duties of its female members. These are produced in compara- tively small numbers ; they perform the prop- er duties of wives and mothers ; they stay at 'uime, feed the children, and attend to the . . urseries ; they mostly perish before >vinter ; but a few, more hardy than their fellows, en- dure its cold, and become the perpetuators of • ill i * .4. . the rocc in the eniuing Bpring. The innlri, according to iho youngiT Hubcr, are far more imluntriou* thon th« inalf? t>co«t, or drones, but ttro h»» active iv tar than the nfutrrn, or working-wa»pM. Thoy have the peace lul tho floors of the tcrnices and avenues, and Jilijjfntly carry off cviry ^article of rub- bish. They also undertake tno funerals of ony deceased componions, and spet^dily cast the deod b(Kli( < out of the vespiarj^. On the wbilo, they ore useful members of the com- munity i and they probably owe their permis- •ion to livi! U) their diliKence. The " work- era" are the most interesting class : they arc •mailer in size than either male or female wasps, but are wonderfully energetic, and in- defati jiitbly lal" )riou8. Some arc builders and repairers of tin breach ; they receive a com- mission to make excursions for building-mate- rials; and returning home with their bundles of lint, set themselves to the repairs and ex- tension of the city. Others are the commis- sariats : the issues of life at home are intimate- ly connected with their expeditions. They roam over fields and meadow*, frequently catching flics nnd weaker insects, and carry- ing the gurno home often with no inconsidera- ble dilficulty. Dr. Darwin says he once be- held a curious act of a wasp : it had caught a large fly, und in rising with it into the iiir, the breeze caught its wings, and nearly wrenched it from the wasp's clutches. The insect im- medidtely alighted, and deliberately sawed off the wings of its victim, when it was able to carry it in safety away. There was a some- tiling nobler than instinct in this action, nor is it by any means on isolated example of insect sagacity". Others seek our orchard , select the ripest, sweetest fruits, suck their juices, ond convey home the luscious treasure, of which but small portion is for themselves. These foragers will even enter and rob beehives. Those that tarry at home, in every instance share the spoil. Our grocery-stores and butch - era' stalls are equally attractive to the forager- wasps. Surely it is some palliation of the rob- bery to remember the claims of hungry kins- folks, friends, and acquaintance, and httle ones at home ! There is no sciuabbling at their or- derly meal-times ; no fighting for the '* lion's shore ;" each expectant insert receives its due portion, and is content therewith. " I have seen," writes the fascinating obt.. rvrr Reau- mur, "a worker, after returning home with spoil, on entering the ni^t, quietly \- reh at the top, and protrude o clear drop of fluid from its mouth. Several wasps drank together from this crystal drop until it wos all swallowed ; then the worker would cause o second, and sometimes a third drop, to exude, the conter.8 of which were distributed in peace to other waips." Here in a lesson for our young read- ers to observe ond practise ! The minle of covernment is reimblicon . then; is no recognised head, as with the bees; vet on amount of even military discipline, and the utmost order, ore to be found among the subjects. The ijood of the commonwealth seems to be the prevailing (jbject of each in- sect. If the workers ore building, eoc h hos its own f>\"'i, obout on inch 8()uorc, assigned to it, OS the . tiount of work it is exjwcted to exe- cute. It WOS on interesting discovery of Mr. Knight, that wosps olso hove sentinels : these are placed at the entronre of the vespiary ; they run gently in ond out of it, and give im- mediate notice of the opprooch of danger. To their rr)mmimications olone does the commu- nity give heed ; ond on their giving the alarm, will issue in an^'ry hosts to avenge the injury, ond defend their home to the lienth. Some- times, however, but rorely, intestine combats toke place ; and there ore terrific duels be- tween the workers, or between o worker and a mole. This is a bad offoir for the latter, os ' !■ hos no sting : his fote is generolly to die. One of the most striking focts in the notu- ral history of the Vespidte is the occurrence of an annual ma.ssacre in October. Then the vespiory is indeed o scene of horrible atroci- ties ond profuse carnage. The wosjis, whose offection for their young is generally remark- ably strong, seem then to be possessed with phrensied rage against them. They cease to feed their larvae: "they do worse," angrily writes Reaumur ; " the mothers become im- placable murderesses ; they drag the helpless lorvsB out of their cells, slay them, and scotter them outside the nest, strewing the very earth with their dead corcosses.- There is no com- punction : the massacre is universol." A wise purpose is fultilled by this opporer.t cruelty. The coming winter would ropidly destroy, by a for more miserable deoth, oil that are killed on tin rM'usion ; and it is o stroke of mercy to temii ite thlanation. By the rotation of every revolving body, there is a force created, called centrifugal force. This you see verified every day : not a carriage rolls along the streets, but you see particles of dust flying off the revolving wheels. The same force is produced in the mass of the earth itself. Now suppose we pass from the equator toward the poles. When we reach the poles we find there is no tendency to fly off from that point, in conse- quence of centrifugal force, because there is no velocity of rotation. But as we recede from the axis of rotation, and as the radius be- comes greater, the centrifugal force is increas- ed in consequence of the velocity of rotation being accelerated. Now let us take the fluid particles upon the earth's surface. What will be the conse- quence if it remain stationary, or if it move upward toward the equator and downward to- ward the poles ? — for the solution of this ques- tion will determine the figure of the earth, under certain limits of calculation. These particles, under the influence of the centrifu- gal force, have a tendency to fly off in a per- pendicular direction, and the force of gravity has a tendency to draw them to the centre of the earth. Under the action of these two forces, we find the particle does not remain stationary, but is moving upward, along a cen- tral line upon the surface of the earth, toward the equator, and thus particle after particle is impelled upward. But how is it possible that this operation should ever cease ? I will ex- plain the reason. When a body rests upon an inclined plane, the action of gravity tends to bring it down that plane, anc it requires a certain amount of force to heave it upward against the action of gravity. Now, when the particle of matter, under the influence of the combined forces al- ready described, is heaved up and locates it- self at the equator, still other particles are heave il up, till the whole figure of the earth is swelled out ; and the next particles to be thrown up, will ascend in some sense an in- clined plane. Recollect there is here a heap- ing up of matter — a swelling out — and the great level of the earth is changed, and the time finally comes when the gravity due to the inclined plane, upon which the particle rests, is precisely balanced by the force which tends to throw it up ; and, this equilibrium once ob- tained, any further change m the figure of the earth for etrer ceases. We now take up the telescope, and with an inquiring gaze, examine the other planets. They, too, are moving upon their axes : But with the same velocity with which the earth moves 1 No ; they all have different veloci- ties. Are their figures in like manner chan- ging by this rotation ? I answer : they are ali changing ; or, if not, they still possess a fig- ure of equilibrium heretofore obtained. And we find, moreover, that there are certain nar- row limits within which a figure of this char- acter must be circumscribed — that if the velo- city of rotation given to any body shi/uld ex- ceed a certain amount, this equilibrium is de- stroyed, the figure is changed, and even its solid substance disintegrated and broken up. But in all the examinations we have been able to make, we find these narrow limits nicely resolved, and no one of these falling bodies has exceeded the limits of stability and per- petuity. Having examined the effect of gravitation, I propose to trace out, for a short time, some of the effects produced by this extraordinary change of figure, if I may call it a change. (I do not know if it ever were different.) It is found that a globe will attract precisely as if the matter belonging to it were compacted at its centre ; and were all the planets precise spheres, then the problem of the solar system would have been merely to ascertain what shall be the relative influence of one of these bodies uport the other, pll being regarded as simple material points. But this is not the fact : they are spheroids, flattened at the poles; in consequence of which we find a train of results of a curious and complicated character. When you look out upon the north star, you find that object apparently fixed and per- manent — and if the idea of fixity has ever entered your minds, you can get no stronger conception of it than that which results from the fixity of this star. " As unchangeable as the north star," has grown into a proverb. But if you could reviiit this earth twelve thou- sand years hence, and look for your favorite bright and beautiful star — lo ! it has changed its position — it has wandered to a distant re- gion of the heavens — it is no longer in that point to which the earth's axis is directed, or near it ; but some other has taken its place. What can be the meaning of this ? I answer it depends upon the figure of the earth, and upon the action of the sun and moon, upon the protuberant matter girdling the earth's equator. Now for the explanation of this curious phenomenon. If it were po^ible for us to extend the equa- tor of the earth, till it met the sphere of the heavens, then t.i describe around the heavens a circle of fire that we could discern, running all the way around among the fixed stars, we should liave the curve called the equinoctial in the heavens. Now, if we could trace out the track of the sun among the fixed stars, x- camination of the elemenib e planets, that this longer ;en described, is invariable — while the shorter axis is Dn, according to the config- ivenly bodies. It is found, 'bit is changing its figure, ; Out this is slowly disap- f en going on for centuries, for centuries to come, till axis becomes equal to the city of the orbit disappears, volves in a perfect circle IVhen this point shall have ysis demonstrates the truth as, and the figure then cir- ns to come back agaii. to i : and thus, in per.ods so man mind can not stretch comprehend them, we find lations sweeping backward narrow limits within which as confined them. ; shoujd this hange have the moon ? I will answer. ASTRONOMY. 171 The moon is revolving about the earth, and its motion is impressed u[)on it. Now, if no other object existed outside the moon's orbit, the earth would be able to draw the moon closei to itself, and impress upon it a central movement. But all the other heavenly bod- ies, are on the outside of the moon's orbit, drawing it away from the earth, taking it partly from under the inlluence of the earth, and e.nstration, you will pardon me if I occupy a little more than my allotted time, ■n giving "ome account of the telescopic ap- T't ^''ancc of the moon's surface. Those, who .. • iLe f.rst time, behold the moon's surface 'h ciugh a powerful instrument, will always be disappointed in its ai)pcarance. There are mighty mountains on its surface; there are deep bleak cavities, some perhaps fifteen, twenty, forty, and even sixty miles in diame- ter and sinking below the surface, seven and eight thousand feet. Out of these, mighty rocks ari-se two thousand feet above the level of the valley, casting their deep black shad- ows upon the plains b jIow. All these thing:? are very fine ; and yet on looking at them through the, telescope, for the first time, one is invariably disappointed. You can not see mountains at. you see them in the highlands of New York : you can not see the gray rocks projecting so beautifully as you behofl them on some earthly mountaiu height. Remcm- V2. bcr after your telescope has carried you out as far as it can reach, there is yet u whole hundred miles to be overcome. So in spite of all you can do, and with all the aid you can bnng, you are a hundred miles from the object. But do we know nothing of the moon? Are we so far ofl', that we can tell nothing of the charaetcil -tics of its surface ? I answer : "We know t'-.ai, towering mountains lift rficir lofty heads, deep caverns yawn, and there are vast circular elevations, resembling the usual productions of volcanic action. And how do we determine these things? By the lights and shadows which show themselves to the eye, we measure the height of these mount- ains, by remarking the relative ))osition of the sun and the earth. We mark the extremities of their long deep shadows, and find that as the sun slowly rises, the shadows by degrees recede toward the base of the mountains; and, when noonday arrives, they entirely dis- appear. Then as the sun begins to decline on the other side, the same dark shadows are cast in the opposite directions. We watch these movements till we ascertain with per- fect certainty the character of the object which casts the shadow, and we measure its height. These are reliable facts. But the question next comes ; How is it possible to measure the depths of those deep cavities? It appears as if immense lakes had once filled them, and by some extraordi- nary means, the water had been evaporated, leaving the interior dry, hard, and sterile. We find these depths in like manner as we ascer- tain the height of mountains. When the sun is first rising, it casts its lifjht into these cavities of the moon ; we sin shadows cast by the sunward sides, and the limits of the cavi- ties are defined with a degree of accuracy sur- passing anything upon the surfnoo of the earth. For the shadows are not here so black as upon yonder orb. They art; mitis^HMi and dispersedl through the influence ot our atmo- sphere. But on the moon there is no atmo- sphere, at least not .such a one as will eompure at all with ours. The moon's atmosphere, if indeed it have one, can 1 e no denser than the extremely rarified air left in the most perfect vacuum yet produced in an exhausted re- ceiver. It can not sustain animal life — it can not support clouds, nor can it sustain combus- tion. And for the reason that the moon has no atmosphere, there is no gradual fading away of the light as the sun sinks deeper be- low the horizon — no soft, mild, and lovely twilight, such as sheds a holy serenity over our favore»"»W»»' 172 SIERRA LEONS. from faint streaks of light, to thn fullness of the day-spriiif; — but startled from the very depth of bliickness by the lightning-flash of the sun's lueridian glory. SIERRA LEONE. Sierra Leone is a considerable country of Western Africa, on the Atlantic, distinj;uish- ed for the colony formed there by the British nation, rather from motives of philonthropy than from those of commercial advantage. It is traversed by a considerable river, called the Miiomba or Sierra Leone. Its name is derived from a ridge of mountains, which rises near the southern bank of the river. This country equals, in fertility and popnlousness, any other in this part of Africa. It consists generally of one vast, almost impenetrable fore.st, only particular spots of which have been cleared and cultivated. Rice is raiseil wherever the ground is sutficiently watered for its production, and forms the constant food of the rich ; but the poor content themselves with millet, yams, and plantains. There is a great abundance of the most delicate fruits. Elephants' teeth and civet are brought to the coast. The woods and mountains are infested with wild animals, particularly lions, from the multitude of which the country ap])ears to have derived its name. There are swarms of insects, flies, musquitoes, and particularly ants, the white species of which commit ex- traordinary devastation. The serpent species are also very numerous, and the rivers, be- sides yielding an ample supply of fish for food, contain large alligators, and the manata or sea-cow. The natives cf this country are not of so deep black a complexion as those of Cape Verd, nor have tliey the flat nose of the negro race to such a degree, but the character of the ditTerent tribes varies very considerably. The Portuguese were the first who discovered and form((l settlements on the river Sierra Leone. Toward the close of the eighteenth century the British began to turn their views toward Sierra Leone, with a view to coloni- zation, for the more effectual abolition of the slave-trade, by raising up an African colony, whither the slaves might be senr as freemen. Lord Mansfield having decided, in 1772, that a slave w'io sets foot in Britain becomes free, a number of blacks in this country left their masters, and were wandering about in a desolate condition. Granville Sharp formed the plan of transporting them to Africa; and, the aid of the government having been ob- tained, they were landed, in 1787, upon a district jnirchascd from the king of Sierra Leone. These negroes and the white feinulea sent with them were mostly of indilVcriMit characters, and a severe mortality ensued among them. In 17!)-2, about 1,',M)0 negroes, who had left their masters in the Utiiteil States, dining the revolutionary v.ar, wer also landed at Sierra Leone; and sever'; years later the colony was increased by ,050 Maroons from Nova Scotia. Little [irogress, however, had been made in the objects for which the colony was formed, and, in 1807, it was surrendered into the hands of the crown. At the j)eriod, Great Britain received permis- sion from several powers to treat as pirates such of their subjects as should be found engaged in the slave-trade north of the line; and the liberated negroes seized by her cruis- ers were placed at Sierra Leoni>. For the first six months they reeeivi; a daily iillowauee from the government, after which Imids are assigned them, and they are left to sujiport themselves. The number thus lilierated has been about 20,000 ; and although iheir wild and improvident habits have thrown many difficulties in the way of the benevolent ex- ertions of the British authorities, recent ac- counts give decided proofs of great imjjrove- ments in the spirit and condition of the colon- ists. Freetown, the princi|)al place of the colony, has an excellent harbor on the river Sierra Leone, about six miles from the seu, and upward of 6,000 inhobitants. Kegent's town, six miles south of Freetown, founded in 1816, has a population of 1.300; and in the vicinity are several villages, with a more distant stations of "Waterloo, Wellington, and Hastings. Bathurst, on thi; (Tunibiii, is a settlement also connected with this colony. Our cut represents ])art of Regent's town in the colony of Sierra Leone. It !■< inhabit- ed by negroes of many ditlerent nations in Africa, whom piraticafdealcrs were carrying into slavery. The ships in which they had been crowded together were tnkcn by the English cruisers, and the negroes set at liberty Here, and in other towns in the colony, these injured negroes are placed in safety. On the right of the view, a part of the {own is seen: it extends, liowever, a consider- able way further than is shown in our en- gravmg. It is laid out with regularity, pos- sesses several streets, and is iidinbited by nearly 2,000 negroes old and young. V stone- bridge, built by the negroes, leads from the town to the side of the brook where the principal buildings are. These consist chiefly of the church, the mission or parsonage house, and a house for the governor. TJiese and other buildings are all of stone. This place is now a beautifully-cultivated and well-gov- erned spot ; and yet, only a few yea'« since, ed from th(> kirif; of Sierra n.'^nrocs Qiiil till" wliirt! fcinulcs were inoxlly of imlilU'rciit a severe mortiility ensued ji 17!)'3, nbout l.'.'OO ncgnjes, heir musters in llie United lie revolutionury v.iir, wer Sierra Lconi!; and sRvef: •olony wus inen'iised l)y 550 ovaScotin. Little [iro;iiress, ecn made in the olijects for y was formed, mid, in ifl07, :d into the bunds of flie crown, reat Britain rceeived jtermis- il ])r)wcrs to treiit as pirates uhjects ns shoidd Ijc found lavo-tra(h; north of tlie line; I ncn;roe9 seized by her eruis- at Sierra Leone. For tlic hey re(;rive a daily idlownncc ment, after whicli lamls are md they are left to support le number thus liberated has i)0; and ullhouj;h iheir wild t habits have tlirown many > way of the benevolent ex- iritish aiithcn'ilies, recent ac- :led jiroofs of great im])rove- •it and condition of the colon- tho j)rinci))al jdace of the xcellent harbor on tlie river Jirat six miles from the sea, 6,000 inhabitants. Kegent's south of Freetown, founded population of 1.300; and in several vilhii,'es, with a more )f Waterloo, Wellington, and lurst, on the (Tumbia, is a :onnected with this colony, sents part of Regent's town Sierra Leone. It is iidiabit- jf many ditlerent nations in iratical dealers were carrying Phe shif)s in wuieh they "had ogcther were tnken by the and the negroes set at liberty ler towns in the colony, these ire placed in safety, of the view, a part of the extends, howevcn-, a consider- er than is shown in our en- laid out with regularity, pos- itreets, and is inhabited by roes old and young. V stone- the negroes, leaij.s from the le of the brook where the gsare. These consist chiefly le mission or parsonage house, • the governor. These and are all of stone. This place ully-cultivttted and well-gov- yet, only a few yeo's since, rp-t: ;.^ m i ^■,*«i 174 THK AMfc-'UCAN CONTlNKNT. the whole was ti %\ id desert. Another view of thu town is prcscnteil (.n the oi»po8ito page. The clinDttte of Sierra Lediio fi)nns so pe- nuliar a ft iture of its geogra])Iucal charncter, that wo gladly avail oursi Ivea of Major ilick- ett'.< acrouiit, |)reli.\e(l i his ioumnl of the Ashiiiiteo wiir : — " On landing at FreeV vn, u 'iger is not a liitif surprised to behold a plu so far su- jx-rior to wliut he ha tfrminai of tin nin^, the tomiid(WH again 'lake their appi aruncp, becoming weaker as .le dry season approach- es, un' 1 they cease altogether. " At interval* durincr the day in the rainy season, the action of itensely hot sun on the earth, covered wiu. a luxuriant vegeta- tion, and sn'i 'id with moisture, produces a disagreeabii; bK:kening si ell, which is prob- nlily one of the causes oi the fever that prc- ails at this perioiJ of the vear, as persons recently arrivcl are generallv taki ill in July or August; some, however, hi.yr been known to Tc-ide in the coh about two years with- out having been ati'ect( by it. If they re- maii yond this time, they are certain not to je it much lont"r ; and when at length i' J take the fever, it gen "ly proves fatal them. It is considered ire favorable /mptom for a stranger to ' . /cd with the '•■ ver soon after his arrival The havoc which is dreadful disease has mi 1e among the i:.uropean8 who have gone out, or have been sent to the colony, is well known. On the first arrival of European troops, in 1825, they died in greater numbers than at any subse- quent period ; the cause was attributed much to the incomplete state of the barracks, which had been hastily erected, the materials arri- ving from England at the same time with the troops, the barracks could not, consequently, be covered in before the rains. From the wnnt of occonnnodation on shore, most of the troops were kept on board the transports for some months. After the completion of the barracks, and the walls had become dry, the troops enjoyed better health, hut they drank freely, and it was very difficult to keep them sober. This no doubt tended much to bring on sickness among them; the officers died, however, in proportion." THE AMERICAN CONTINENT. Had not Columbus discovered America in 1492, it would not have much longer remain- ed unknown to Europe, as the continent was found by Cabot, a Portuguese navigator, about 1500. He was on a voyagfe to the East DspliiTi' then becomes very tiailo uilvuiicps, with a great Its, Hwecping hi " it (if iii> y fallen) iniinon ionds of tori^ 'li>e8 arc suci eilcd by »ky, anil the air i« jjreatly ame hi lomrs ig«»rated, ri' cheerful. Ah ihe rainy the tornmlors fjrii.lually ccedi"! by almost ci instant u" tprtiiinati of lb' uin lin nake their oppi miner, M i lie dry seaxon ainiron.-h- *e altogether. durimx the day in the rainy oi itensnly hot sun on i wiiii u hixnriunt ven;eta- .1 with moisture, produces a Bniiif{ siiudl, which is jirob- »use8 oi the fever that pre- od of the vear, as persons n; generally takr , ill in July however, ^I.^•(> been known il( . , about two vears with- ifl'ecti ' by it. If they re- time, they are certain not Ion r ; and when at length er, U yer insidered 'anger to 9 arrival ease has 'v |)roves fatal re favorable /cd with the rhe havoc which mil Id among the ave gone out, or have been y, is well known. On the iropean troops, in 1825, they lumbers than at any subse- ! cause was attributed much state of the barracks, which erected, the materials nrri- id at the same time with the ;ks could not, consequently, sfore the rains. From the dation on shore, most of the on board the transports for ^fter the completion of the I Willis had become dry, the 3tter health, but they drank i very difficult to keep them lioubt tended much to bring ng them ; the officers died, ortion." RICAN CONTINENT. mbu3 discovered America in )t have much longer remain- lurope, as the continent was t, a Portuguese navigator, 5 was on a voyagfe to the East 1 I B f 9 T5 il '11 « iii 'itj!/' '#! iiMsij,'niil l>y rlir I'lill of I'oPf AlfX- iihilrr VI. to till' I'oVtimui'Kc. wlirn In- imiti- tionid worliU to he discos i-rcil or sfi/.cd by Portii,i,ml imd Si-uii,. Tiiis wii^ vfry mnioy- iiij; to tln' Siiaiiinrds, who ttiii^ hud to nhoro tliu contincnl with iinothcr timi a rival power. Tiiux, without di'tractini; from the alory thfit justly hi'loiigs to (,'olinnlnis. sve hvv- that urci- dcnl would have ttU'rtfd the iL'riiit end, to the rt-ali/ation of whi(di iif di^xottd his lilo ; so cupriciMirt are the deerees of fortune. Thr tirst peiHon who visited the Atnericon contimnt, was John <'ubot, a Veuetiuii iner- ehant, who resided \u Bristol, Kn-ilaiid. He made the discovery m 1497, somewhere on the eoast of Lulirador. He was aeeon>|)nnied bv his more famous son, Sebu.sinin Cabot. " So long ago us the rei^iU of Pliilii. II., it WOH proposed to cut b canal throujjh the isth- mus at Panama, for ship navigation, and en- gineers were sent to examine the coinitry. "They, however," says a Sjiaiiish writer, " found the obstacles insuperable ; and the council of the Indies at the same time re])re- sented to the king the injuries which such a canal wotdd occasion to tlio monarchy ; in conseciuenee of which, his majesty decreed that no one should in future attempt, or even propose, such an undertaking under pain of death." The injuries feared were the ?"/»/rM- sion, as Spain considered it. of foreigners into the '• South sea," and the conse(pient weak- ening of ;]ie monopoly she then had of that portion of the world. The only human ac- cess to the Pacific at that time from the west, was through the strait of Magellan, the diffi- culty of navigating which was great. In l(i(i(i, eighteen years after the death of Philip II., the passage into the Pacitic by the way of Cape Horn was discovered by two Hol- landers, named Lemaire and Van Schonten, who named the promontory after their native place. The first Englishman who entered the Pa- cific, was John Oxenham, who, in 1555, cross- ed the isthmus of Panama, at ^the head of a party of his countrymen, a botly of semi- freebooters — built a ship, and made jirizes of many Spanish ships. They were finally captured by the Spaniards, and most of them ignominiously executed at Panama. Drake was fortunate. He entered the Pacific by the strait of Magellan, and though he had but one small vessel— a schooner of a hun- dred tons, and sixty men, he inllicted great in- jury on the Spanish settlements, and com- merce. This was in 1578-'9. The third of these Jreebooters, as they called themselves, was Thonnis Cavendish, who, in IIH?, rnv. aged the western roast of Aliierini, iiliil rap- tured among other vessels the (Jalleoii, that was on iier way from iMaiiilia to Aeamiieo. Tliese "genlleinaii-rovers" wete the illustri- ous predecessors of the liuraiiiers of the next century, and held that lliere was " no law be- yond trie line." The first • peilition ever undertaken by the English expressly in seurch of a north- west passagi' in the Pacific, was sent out in 1576, under the command of Martin Krobish- er, a celebrated navigator in un age Mlxniitdihg in daring and accomplished iiiariners. Sixty years before, Sebastian Cabot discovered Hudson's strait. The name America wos first applied to this continent, or division of the globe, in 1507, ill a work published by one Martin Waldre- mullen, at St. Die, in Lorraine. The Span- iards never called their possessions liy the name of America until about the inidille of the 18th c.:ntury. They gave them the name of the West Indies. The continent should be called Colonia, or Colonica, frotn the Iti.l- ian name of its discoverer. This would do honor and justice to both his name and race. The first person of the Anglo Saxon race, bom within the limits of the United States, was Virginia Dare. She was bom on the 18th of August, 1587. Her ])arents belonged to the company sent over by Rahiigh, and who IKWsessed the colony of Ilounoke. The name of Virginia was given her from that of the country in which the colony was situated. Her fate, together with that of the entire po|)ulation of the colony, is unknown. All perished, and, as Bancroft beautifully has it : "If America had no English town, it soon had English graves." The French early reached this country, and, within seven years of the discovery of the continent, the ftsHeries of Newfoundland were known to the hardy mariners of Brit- tony and Normandy. In 1534, Verrazam, an Italian in the service of Francis I., ran along ahead the whole coast of Ntmh Amer- ica, to the 60th degree of latitude. He saw the harbor of what is now New York, and noted its convenience and pleasontness ; and for fifteen days his vessel lay in the beautiful haven of Newport. Jaijues Cartier was the first person who sailed uj) the St. Lawrence, which he did in August, 1534. The next year, he made a second voyf ge to the K-rrie (|uarter, and sailed up the rive' to the siif of the present city of Montreal. He took p<)S- j session of the ',e h gions for Fra.-.rs. All the I earlifi un-^iip's t.t colonization failed, and it wa'i net jnlil ih'. beginning of the 17th cen- tury. :ha^, under the direction of the celebra- I ted Champlain, they supceeded '%«,, r*.-^^ iiilisti, >vliii, ill KiM?, rnv. iiust <>t Ami'ricii, iiinl ciiii- VCHNcU llll- next tiut lluTe WU.1 " no luw lie- ition ever umlertnkfn by inIv in ttearch <>l' n iiorfh- B f'licitii', wan sent out in iimiiml of Mnriiii Krobish- i^ittor ill tin nijr' ulxxiniliii^ niilinhc'd mariners. Sixty t>UHtiun CuImjI iliHCovtTfil iea was first applifil to this ion of thfi piobc, in ITjO?, m1 liy one Martin Walilro- in Lorraine. Th<" Spnn- tlieir j)o«seH.si(ina liy the until about the iniilille of They gave them tlie name »8. The continent should or Colonica, from the Iti.l- Bcoverer. This woultl ilo both his name aw\ roee. of the Anglo Suxon race, nits of the United States, e. Sht! was bom on the 87. Her ))arents belonged It over by Raleigh, iinil who ly of Ivounoke. The name ;iven her from that of the the colony was situated, r with that of the entire colony, is unknown. All 3ancroft beautifully has it : no English town, it soon 8." irly reached this country, years of the discovery of fisheries of Newfoundland le hardy mariners of Brit- ndy. In ]r)24, Verrazam, service of Francis I., ran ■hole coast of North Amer- ■gree of latitude. He saw at is now New York, and mce and pleasantness ; and 8 vessel luy in the beautiful t. .Ta(iues Cartier was the aileil up the St. Lawrence, August, 1534. The next second voyf ge to the F-rae 1 up the rive' to the si:» of f Montreal. lie took principal feuluros of their character. They were no common men who guided the suirerers from the ven- geance of power to these shores. Virtue was strong ; religion found her votories, who were willing to quit the hearths and altars, the re- finement and luxury of the old world, to erect temples to the Most High in the deep .=ilence of our forests. We can not join in a general condemnation of those who fostered the good institutions that have descended to us ; strength- ened them against the violence of opposition ; planted the seeds of liberty, now in full fruit ; and cherished religion, till it became an es- sential element in the constitution of society. Surely it is some praiso that they planted churches in every villoge ; thot, by the sys- tem of free schools, established in many towns so early as 1C45, and by law in 1648, they sent the kindly influences of learning to the fireside of the humblest citizen ; and, t(j crown all, founded that venerable university, which for two centuries has been the direct source of incalculable goml to the peojile, and may be regarded as, in an important sense, the parent of many of the similar institutions in our land ; anti all this at a time when the people were few, anil, by reason of theii pov- erty, were obliged, for one year, to forbear laying the usual tax. From a general view of our early hi.story, we are satisfied, that the fathersof New Eng- land were upright, intelligent, and )(ious men, whose main endeavor was to strengthen the colonics they had planted, accorditig to llieir ability ; and that even their errors, in most instances, were the result of good motives, and an ardent desire to promote religion, learning, purity, and all the best interests of the community. Governor Winthrop, the subject of this biography, was born at Groton, in Sullblk, England, June 12, 1587; and was descended from an ancient and honorable family. His grandfather was an eminent lawyer, in the reign of Henry VIII., and attached to the reformation. His father was of the same pro- fession, and the governor himself was bred a lawyer, in which character he was eminent , nnd any peculinritiea in circ'uinstaiiccs that go to If we ni)i)ly this rule to f New KriKlaiiil, we may s with which they visited o])iiiii)n nnd disrespect of ness which they manifest- he calamities which befell r cnoiHies. were instances ^nation. We could wish lad heen otherwise, some bnt we can not join with k'ith contem|)t n|K)n their I the |)rincipul feuluros of They were no common be sulFerers from the ven- thesB shores. Virtue was nd her votaries, who were hearths and altars, the re- f of the old world, to erect t High in the deep silence 8 can not join in a general ose who fostered the good 5 descended to us ; strength- he violence of opposition; ' liberty, now in full fruit ; on, till it became an es- he constitution of society, praiss that they planted village ; that, by the sys- estaMished in many towns nd by law in 1648, they luences of learning to the lest citizen ; nnd, to crown ■nerable university, which 18 been the direct source d to the pcojile, and may an important sense, the the sin)ilar institutions in this at a time when the ad, by reason of theii ])ov- , for one year, to forbear view of our early history, U the fathers of Kew Eng- intelligent, and jiious men, \'n\ was to strengthen the planted, according to their sven their errors, in most e result of good motives, 'sire to promote religion, id all the best interests of HROP, the subject of this )rn at Groton, in Sutlidk, 1587; and was descended 1 honorable family. His 1 eminent lawyer, in the III., and attached to the father was of the same pro- [overnor himself wns bred I character he was eminent BIOGRAPHY OF JOHN WINTHROP. 179 for both integrity nnd abilities. Indeed, he must have liad the fairest reputation, for he was appointed a justice of the pence at eigh- teen y<'iirs of age. Wliru the design of settling a colony in New England was undertaken, Mr. Wintlinjp was chosen, with general consent, to conduct the enterjirise. His estate, amounting to tin; value of six or seven hundred pounds sterling a year, he converted into money, and em- barked his all to jiromote the settlement of New England. When he left Groton he wns in the forty-third yenr of his age. He ar- rived at Salem with the Massacliusetts char- ter, June ISJ, 1()30. To no one are wo more indebted than to WiNTHRor, not only for the manifold good which he did in his own day, but ulso for the history he has left us of the early transactions in church and state in New England, and especially in Massachusetts. His work, which, as we gather from him, was intended for publication and for posterity, was left by him in raanuscrijit. in three parts. Those hud all been in the hands of Hubbard, Mather, and Prince, who it seems, had derived more assistance from them than they were ready to acknowledge. The first two parts, bringing the histo.N \)wn to 1644, were published at Hartford lu Connecticut, in 1790. The third part was discovered in the tower of the old South ehuich in IJoston, in 1816. On colla- ting the nmnus(Tipt of the first two parts with the printed volume, the latter was found to contain many errors; and the whole work has been published 1-y the Massachusetts Histori- cal Society, with tb- sistance of the legis- lature of tlmt state 'hi'd i)art had never before been ])ublishe(l. ontinues the his- tory down to the time ol his death. Much interesting matter, and many important facts, are containeil in this part. Of these, are re- lations of the various discussions between the magistrates and deputies relative to their respective powers ; an account of the synod that met at Cambridge to establish the platfonn of church disci[)line and government ; a de- fence against the charges which were raised to the prejudice of the colonists, by their ene- mies, nnd preferred before the commissioners in England. These all serve to fill up the delineation of the character of the fathers of New England to the middle of the seventeenth century. The contents of Winthuop's " History of New England," are so various, that it is dif- ficult to make an extract that will do justice to the author. But we select at a venture his "little speech," as he terms it. In 1645, when he was de])uty governor, he was singled out from the rest of the magistrates, who had acted with him, to defend the legality of his proceedings, in committing to prison certain persons in Hingham, who had been concerned in some disturltanee of the ])eace, and who refused ti' find sureties f(T their ap- pearance at court. The day of \Vi.N'riiRoi''3 trial came, and he declined taking his sent upon the bench. Sjjcaking of himself, ns he does throughout, in the third jierson, he says : '■ Th(! day ai)])ointed being come, the court assembled in the meetinghouse nt Boston. Divers of the elders were jiresent, and n great assembly of the peojile. Thede])uty g(»vern- or, cominu in with the rest of the magistrates, placed himself beneath, within the bar, and so sats uncovered. Some question was in court about his being in that jilace (for many both of the court and assembly were grieved at it). But the deputy telling them, th .t, being criminally accused, he might not sit as a judge in that cause, and if he were upon the bench, it would be a great disadvantage to him, for he could not take that liberty to jilead the cause, which he ought to be allowed at the bar ; upon this the court was satisfied." Winthroj) wns fully and honorably acquitted of all the charges brought against him. The governor (Dudley) read the sentence of the court. " Then was the deputy governor de- sired ijy the court to go np and take his place again upon the bench, which he did accord- ingly, nnd the coiirt being n!)out to nrise, he desired leave for a little speech, which was to this eifect : — " I supixjse something may be expected from me, upon this charge that is befallen me, which moves me to sjienk now to you ; yet I intend not to intermeddle in the proceedings of the court, or with nny of the persons con- cerned therein. Only I bless (}od, thnt I see nn issue of this troublesome business. I also acknowledge the justice of the court, and, fo' mine own part, I am well satisfied, I wns publicly charged, and I am puliliely Hud legal- ly acquitted, which is nil I did expect or de- sire. And though this lie siitlieient for my justification before men, yet not so before the God, who hath seen so much amiss in my dis- pensations (and even in this iitfiiir) as calls me to be humble. For to be ])ubliely nnd criminally charged in this court, is matter of humiliation (nnd I desire to mike a ri^lit use of it), notwithstanding I be thus acquitted. If her father had spit in her face (saith the Lord concerning Miriam), should she not have been ashamed seven days ? Shame had lien U|)on her, whatever the occasion had been. I am unwilling to stay you from your urgent aifiiirs, yet give me leave (upon this special occasion) to speak a little more to this assem- bly, it may be of some goo ((Hiiitry, uri! alioiit the uulliority ot' the inimislriilfs ami the lilicrty of the people. It is yourselves who have culled us to tills oHice, and beinn; called l)y you, wo have our ui'.tV"irity Ircin (Jod, in way of an ordinance, such as hath the image of (Jod eminently stamped u|)on it, the contempt QJid vi(iluli(in whereof hath heen vindicated with examples of divine ven,;,'euncc. I en- treat you to consider, that, when you choose magistrates, y(ni take them from union;,' your- selves, men subject to like [lassions a.s you are. Therefore when you see inlinnities in us, you should reflect upon your own, and that would make you hear the more with us, and not lie severe ceusurers of the failinp;s of your mai^is^rates, when you have continual experience of tlie like inlinnities in yourselves and others. We account him a good servant, who breaks not his covenant. The covenant between you ami us is the oath you have taken of us, which is to this purjiose, that we shall govern you, and judge your causes by the rules of God's laws and our own, ac- cording to our tiest skill. When you agree with a Workman to build you a shi|) or house, ice, he undertakes as well for his skill as for his faithfulness, for it is his iirofestion, and you pay him for both. But when you call one to be a magistrate, he doth not profess nor undertake to have sufficient skill for that ollicp, nor can you furnish him with gifts, &(;., therefon; you must run the hazard of his skill and ability. But if he fail in faithfulness, which by his oath he is bound unto, that he must answer for. If it full out that the case be clear to common apprehension, and the rule clear also, if he transgress here, the error is not ill the skill, iiut in the evil of the will ; it must be re(]uired of him. But if the cause lie doubtful, or the lulc doubtful, to men of such understanding and parts as your magis- trates are, if your magistruies should err here, yourself must bear it. " For the othi^r point concerning libertVi I observe a great mistake in the country about that. There is a twofold liberty, natural (I mean as our nature is now corrupt) and civil or federal. The first is common to man with beasts and other creatures. By this, man, as he stands in relation to man simply, hath liberty to do what he lists; it is a liberty to evil as well as to good. This liberty is in- compatible and inconsistent with authority, ond can not endure the least restraint of the most just authority. The exercise and main- toining of this lilierty make men grow mf)re evil, anl in time to be worse than brute beasts : omnes sumus licentia deteriores. This is that great enemy of truth and peace, that wild beast, which all the ordinances of God are bent against, to restrain and subdno it. The other kind of lilierty I call civil or federal, it may also be termed moral, in reference to the covenant between God and man, in the moral law, and the politic covenants and constitu- tions, amongst men thein-;(lves. Tliis liberty is the proper end and object of authority, and cannot subsist without it: and it is liberty to that only which is good, just, and honest. This liberty you arc to stnml for, with the liu/.ard (not only of your goods, but) of your lives, if need be. VVhatNoever erosseth this, is iiot authority, but a distemper thereof. This liberty is maintained and exercised in a way of subjection to authority ; it is of tlie same kind of liberty where wi'ili Christ huth made us free. The woman's own choice makes such a man her husband ; yet being so chosen, he is her lord, and slie is to be sub- ject to him, yet in a way of liberty, not of bondage ; and a true wife nccounts'her sub- jection her honor ond freedom, and would not think her condition safe and free, but in her subjection to her husband's authority. Such is the liberty of the church under tlie author- ity of Christ, her king and husband ; his yoke is so easy and sweet to her as a bride's orna- ments ; and ii, through frowardness, or wan- tonness, (kc, she shaite it off", at any time, she is at no rest in her spirit, until she take it up again; and, whether her lord smiles upon her, and embraceth her in his arms, or whether he frowns, or rebukes, or < uites her, she ap- prehends the sweetness of his love in all, and is refreshed, supported, and instructed, by ev- ery such dispensation of his authority over her. On the other side, ye know who they are that complain of this yoke, and say, ' Let us break their bands, &c., we will not have this man to rule over us.' Even so, brethren, it will be between you and your magistrates. If you stand for your natural corrupt liberties, and will do what is good in your own eyes, you will not endure the least weight of au- thority, but will murmur, and opjiose, and be always striving to shake off* that yoke; but if you will be satisfied to enjoy such civil and lawful liberties, such as Christ allows you, then will you quietly and cheerfully submit unto that authority which is set over you, in all the administrations of it, for your good. Wherein, if we fail at any time, we hope we shall be willing (by God's assistance) to hearken to good advice from any of you, or 1 any other way of God ; so shall your liber- iics be preserved, in upholding the" honor and power of authority amongst you." It is a very full evidence of the esteem in which he was held, that, when mony gentle- men of character, some of them of noble al- liance, were concerned in the same under- taking with him, he, by a general voice, was !) rostrnin and subline it. K-rty I cull civil or federal, od mornl, in rercrciicc to ri Gi)d uiid man, in themoral : covoiinntst luid (•onstitu- hciimlvcs. This liberty d (ilijeec of nuiiiority, and Kiut it: ami it is lil)erty is good, in>t, and honest. R to stand for, with the vour goods, lint) of your iVlmtwopvor crosseth this, ut n y God's assistance) to ice from any of you, or God ; so shall your liber- upholding the honor ond mongst you.'* .•idence of the esteem in that, when many gentle- me of them of nolale al- leil in the same under- , by a general voice, waa BKJIillAlMlV OK JDII.N U IN lil.KM' LSI The Dentil Bed of Winthrop. placed at their head. He says himself, in his excellent journal, which is indeed a treas- ure to all who revere the memory of their ancestors: "I was first chosen to be govern- or without my seeking or expectation, there being then divers other gentlemen, who, for their abilities, every way were far more fit." He was eleven times chosen governor, and epent his whole estate in the public service. His son John, lind his grondson, Fitz-John (who was a captain in Col. Reed's regiment at the Restoration in 1660), were successively governors of Connecticut colony, and Wait- Still, another grandson, was chief justice of Massachusetts. Stephen, another son of the elder Winthrop, went to England in 1645 or 1046, had the command of a regiment, and succeede 1 Harrison in his msjor-gencralship, was a member of parliament for Scotland m 1656, and wasmuch trusted by the Protector. The family, in every generation, have occu- pieii high stations, and been deservedly held in great respect. Its character is now most worthdy sustained by the Hon. Robkut C. Winthrop, the distinguished and eloquent speaker of the house of representatives, in the United States' Congress ; and the Hon. David Sears, of Boston. This latter gen- tleman has been repeatedly a member of the legislature of Massachusetts, as both repre- sentative and senator, between the years 1816 and 18-26. Governor Winthrop died March 26, 1649, in the 62d year of his age, and was buried April 3d, in the northern comer of the King's chapel burying-ground. Wo may truly say of him, as he finely said of the husband of Lady Arabella Johnson, " He was a holy man and wise, and died in sweet peace." He conducted himself with such ad- dress and unshaken rectitude, as to render his character universally respected among his contemporaries, and his memory dear to posterity. In his magnanimity, disinterested- ness, moderation, and harmonious character, the father of Massachusetts reminds us of the great "father of his country," and is the only name in our history worthy to stand as a parallel to Washington. " How shall we mourn lliee 7 — with a lofty trust, Our life's immortal birthright from above ! With a glad faith, whose eye, to track the just, ThroDgh shades and mysteries IH'tH a glance of love, And yet can weep ! for nature thus deplores The friend that leaves uu, though for hnppiershores. " Praise! for yet one more name with power endowed, To cheer and guide us, onward as we press, Yet one more image, on the heart bestowed, To dwell there, beautiful in holiness I Thine, Wi nth nop, thine I whoso memory from the dead, Shines as the star which to the Saviour led." % ^.ii. ^M I' ■ '»S#..f>,f f ;«".';■ 182 BIOGRAPHY OF JOHN WINTHROP. THE WINTHROP FAMILY TOMB, IN KING'S CHAPEL BUBYING-GROUND, TUEMONT STREET, BOSTON. This ancient Monument originally had inscribed on it t!ie Epitaph which is dven below; but it is said that the letters having become nearly obliterated by time, or injured by accident or design, during the Revolution, the stone wa« replaced oy another, which bears the names and ages of the members of the family as follows : — JOHN WINTHROP, GOVERNOR OF MASSACHUSETTS, Died 1649. Major-General WAIT STILL WINTHROP, Died September 1th, 1717. Aged 76 Years. ANN WINTHROP SEARS, Tht Wife of David Sears, Died Oct. 2d, 1789. Aged 33 Years. Here also rest the remains of John Winthrop, first Governor of Connectictit, [eldest son of John, the Founder of Boston, and first Governor of Massachusetts.] He died at Boston, 5th April, 1676. FiTZ-JoHN Winthrop, his son. Governor of Connecticut, died at Boston, 27',h November, 1707. Thomas L. Winthrop, Lieutenant-Governor of Massachusetts, died 22d Feb. 1840. STAND TRAVELLER, And ndmirc yo Tomb, And to y< Public Tcara add your own. Bewail ya public host. If of y« publick you are part. Thia place is a Prince's Court Rather than a Tomb. This marble co"er« dust Worthy to be enclosed in (lold. Four WINTHR0P3 lie buried in this Tomb, Who were sufficient to enrich ev'n ye four quarters of ye Karth. He is unacquainted with ye history of New England Who is Ignorant of thia Family, And he has no regard for Universal Virtue That docs not highly value iL The last of these here Interr'd Was Wait Winthbop, Esq^ Whore last Honour waa this, That ho was Govemour of New England, He was, alas I he was Of New England, ye glory & Defence, The Light and Stay. Major-General of Massachusett'a Colony, Of a noble yet peaceful dis|)osition. And who for his Country and for Peace could die. President of ye Council for ye Province, Whose chiefest care it always wiis That ye Commonwealth might receive no damage t And in whom many died. Chief Judge, Who paid an equal regard to Justice & Clemency. He went thro' ye moat honourable 8tationa in ye Government And adorn'd ye Honoura w'ch ho bore. Deserving those he bore not A person of yo most uiidisscmbled piety And unspotted probity. Of an exalted yet a modest Genina. He placed all things beneath himscli^ Himself beneath all men. Benevolent tow'rds all, And most so tow'ds ye poor St. needy. Injurious to none not even to enemies i An enemy to none, Ev'n tho' highly provok'd. No unhappy person was by him rejected. Nor poor one rcfus'd admittance. Nor did aay go away displeos'd. Ho was skillfull in physick, And being possessed of Golden Secrets, Indeed more valuable than Gold itself, And having obtained Universal Remedies, Which Hippocrates St, Hclmont never knew, All that were sick where o'er he came He freely restor'd to health, And made almost his whole study of Nature Subservient to Medicine. lie that under this stone now sleeps in death, Still lives in ye hearts of thousands Whose lives he has prolonged. The merits of Winthbop with Him 01)livion shall not bury. He was born y« 27th day of December 1641, Died ye 7th day of September 1717, In ye 7l)Xth year of his age. They who value Life & still enjoy It, Wish'd him a Thousand years continuance her^ An age exceeding that of Methusalem, BURYING-GROUND, Epitaph which is ^iven erated bv time, or injured placed Dy another, which ws:— JTTS, s an. ernor of Connecticut, 3r of Massachusetts.] died at Boston, 27th lachusetts, died 22d Honours w'ch he bore, those he bore not. nost unjissemblcd piety spotted probity, yet « modeet Geniiu. things beneath himeel( beucHth all meD, lent tow'rds all, Wda y« poor t needy. le not even to enemioa; lemy to none, highly provok'd. on was by him rejected, ! refus'd admittance, go away disploas'd. cillfull in phyaick, seed of Golden Secrets, luable than Gold itself, ned Universal Remedies, 1 (fe Helmont never knew, ck where o'er he came reetor'd to health, lis whole study of Nature int to Medicine, stone now sleeps in death, • hearts of thousands he has prolonged, WiNTHROP with Him shall not bury. th day of December 1641, ly of September 1717, 1 year of his age. ! Life It still enjoy It, And years continuance hercv ig that of Metlmsalem. THE SOVEREIGNfl OF EUROI'K. 183 THE SOVEREIGNS OF EUROPE. Eight of the twenty monnrchs arc protcst- niits; nin(! nic Ri)inuii ciithi'lif's : two arc of tin; Grui'k cliiirch, and one is a MoliainimMlun. ThiHC buliin;.Mng to tile Greek church are the emperor of Russia and tlie kiii^ of Wee^e. Four of tliein are of irreproacliulih; charac- ters. Many of thorn are as respeetalilo a.s our piihlic men whom^we delight to honor. Tlio leens are all of spotl(!ss elmracter, which eoulil not have been said of former times. The king of Prussia is a decidedly pious man. Stiveral of the ipieens are true Chris- tians, as I think, antl among these is the (|ueeii of France. She reads many religious books. As to talent, Louis Philippe, king of the French, the king of Prussia, and the em- ])eror of Russia, are admitted to rank first, nnd Louis Philii)])e stonds jjre-eminently ohovo uU. He was educated ot a French col- lege, spent many years in foreign lands, and then sixteen in r|uietly pursuing his studies. Talleyrand said he had no idea of his vast ac- ([uirements, before he was minister, after ho became king. lie speaks English with case, and never pronounces but one word wrong, which is ice, which he calls hice. He said, ho and his brother hired a boat at Pittsburgh, to go down the river, but was obstructed by the hice. This he had learned from the Eng- lish cockneys, when he lived in England. He has no minister who is equal. The kinn; of Prussia is nearly the equal of Louis Philiiipe ; he speaks English well, but not so well as tlie king of the French. He is a self-inade man. He was not allowed to get his education at the German universities, as he desired, as it was thought degrading to the king's son, to associate with other young men. He regrets to this day, that he was not per- mitted to go to the university ivd associate with the students. The king o. .v.eden grad- uated at college, and is a fine sche'ir. The king of Prussia is not pojmiar. He is too good a man for that. He ijroposes too many reforms, and pushes them forward with too much energy to please the peojile. The emperor of Russia is not inferior in talent ; but he came unexpectedly to the throne at the a;^e of twenty-seven or twenty- eight years — his brother, the lawful heir to the throne, having abdicated in his favor. He has had no time to read. Being a resolute monarch, his duties are most arduous. He is most devoted to public affairs. I spoke to him about temperance societies, when he be- gan to make the same objections which were once BO common here — that brandy was ne- cessary for laborers to give them strength, and protect tlium in heat and cold. He however, at once perceived the force of my arguments, admitted their correctness, and caid, " As for the revenue we will let it go, and get a reve- nue somewhere else." Nicholas is very deci- ded and indepcnihint. A nobleman of great wealth and talent liad governed his brother Alexander. When Nich- olas cam(! to the throne, in less than three duvs he came to see him unasked. Nicholas .said to him, "Who asked you to appear before me ? I know how you griverned my brother, and imposed upon his meekness. I give you tliree days to arrange your affairs in St. Pe- tersburgli, after which time you will retire to your country-scat;" which lie did, and has re- mained there ever since. The king of Sweden is a literary man, and is the uutbor of several books, lie gave me a copy of his work on prison diseipline, just published. The king of Holland is not so popular ; he is an old man, about forty-four. He was distinguished at the battle of \Vater- loo, and bndly wounded. The king of Den- mark is a man of fair talents, but of no decis- ion of cluiructer. [Since thisaccount was writ- ten, the king here referred to has died, and Frederick VIL has succeeded to the throne. His first acts have been liberal, and give promise of a good and enlightened sovereign.] The manners of the jjrinces are polished, easy, and simple. Such is the character of the nobles of Europe, whom I have seen. They ore, however, more formal to diplo- masts. There is more difficulty to get along with our distinguished men, who sometimes assume a t(me of haughtiness, which I never saw in a prince. The monarchs ordinarily, and their {|ueens, dress in the same plain way as other well-bred peo])le. In public, they of course appear in sjdendor. The queens wear on ordinary occasions very little jewelry. In the families of the emperor of Russia, and the king of the French, there is great af- fection. — R. Baihd. MORAL CHARACTER OF THE MONKEY. A GENTLEMAN whose premises were infest- ed by a large breed of sparrows, said they were hirds of no principle. Of all monkeys it may be said, with much more propriety, that they are beasts of no princijjle : for they have every evil quality, and not one good one. They are saucy and insolent ; always making an attempt to bully, and terrify peojjle, and biting those first who are afraid of them. An impertinent curiosity runs through all their actions; they never can let thhigs alone, but must know what is going forward. If a pot or a kettle is set on the fire, and the cook turns ■W ! M r 184 MORAL CHARACTER OF THE MONKEY. I lier linck, the monkoy whips off tho cover to Kfc wliiit mIu' has put into it ; fivcn though ho cun nut ^I't at it, without sptting his fcot upon tile lull, Imrrt of the grate. Mimicry is iiiioth- vr of tiic nionkoy'8 rpialities. Whatever lie sce-i men do, he must affect to do the like liinisfif. IIo seems to have no rule of his own, iind so is ruled liy the actions of men or lifiists; as weiik peo))le follow the fashion of the world, whether it be good or Ijad. No monkey lins any sense of gratitude, but takes his viclun's wilh a snatch, and then grins in the fiiee of the person that gives it to him, li'st he should take it nwoy again ; for he sup- po-ics lliMt all men will snatch away what thi cull lay hold of, as nil monkeys do. Throu an ijiviueilile seltislniess, no monkey critisiders any iMciividtial but liimsi'lf, as tht; jioor eat found to her cost, when the monkey burMe. A gentleman in the country kejit a moiikev, who took to riding his hogs, especially one of them, which he coirunonly singled out as fit- test for liis use ; and, leaping upon its hack, with his face toward tin: tail, he wliip|ii(| it uimier(,ifully, and drov(! it about till it could run no longer. The hogs lived under such continiuil terrors of mind, that when the nujn- key first came abroad in tht; morning, they used to set u[) a great cry at the sight of him. A well-known nobleman (nee had a wild horse, whom nobody could ride. " I know not what your lordshif) con do with him," said one, " but to set the monkey u])on his back." So they ])ut a pad on the horse, ond set the mon- key upon it with a switch in his hand, wliich he used upon the horse, and set hiin into a furious kicking and galloj)ing ; but Pug kejit his scot and exercised liis switch. The horse lay down upon the ground ; but when he threw himself on one side, tlie monkey was up on the other ; he ran into a wood witli him to brush him off; but, if a tree or a bush oc- curred on one side, the monkey slijiped to the other side ; till at last the horse was so sick- ened, and fatigued, and broken-spirited, that he ran home to the stable for protection. When the monkey was removed, a boy mount- ed him, who managed the horse with ease, and he never gave any trouble afterward. In all the actions of the monkey, there is no ap- pearance of anything good or useful, nor any species of evil that is wanting in them. They are, indeed, like to mankind ; they can ride a pig as a man rides a horse, or better, and are most excellent jockeys ; but after all, they are only like the worst of the human species. If all the qualities of the monkey •were put to- gether, they constitute what is properly called ill-nature ; and, if any person would know what an ill-natured man is, that man is a mon- key to all intents ond purposes, with the ad- dition of reason, which makes his character much worse, and the loss of religion and con- science, which is worst of all ; for without these, reason is rather a disadvantage. Life. — The advantage of living does not consist in length of days, but in the right im- provement of them. immA NHfai A niorikfv who liiiil hh'H licr pillcpw ill It ni;i!:'cii|), nIic piilli'il (ilV mill liiiiij; (in the ciij), liiys his liciul I by pcrsdimiinir t)ii' liidy, ur.i'* nu>rv rriitliit'iil nnil nrd |)('()|ilr^ ,!ii, wlicii tlii'v iukI alli'c-r. It t'lisliiiiii wliii'li TR. A iiiiscliicvims (Ijs- iiirliiicd to |ii'is(i'utiiiii. loso firciitfst pltiiMirc it is le iniiids of oilier iiioplr, ' cnuntry kept a iiiimkt'y, lis lios«, ('sp(' :%r- I' 'f«iS^ ;,<»"••■■ im*' r 186 TRAVELS IN THF HOLY LAND. Terrace Cultivation. ly planted on the hills. The ground rose in a series of table-lands, of which there wos a succession of three, when we were leaving the rich Huwnrrah valley. The roads in this part of the holy land were mere lanes full of stones between wiilla. or tracks through Qlive grounds and meadows, or paths running along siielvcs of the rocks, with a bit of rocky stair- case at each end, about ascending or descend- ing whith our good horses madt. no difficulty. Before entering the valley where old Sychrr lay between the mountains Ebal and Gerizim, we came to the fine fertile parcel of ground which Jacob bought. The valley opens out into this wide basin ; and near the junction of the valley and the basin is the old well which is the su()p(i8ed scene of the conversation of Jesus with the Samaritan woman. Somi; of our party wound round the base of the hill to the well; and some (and I for one) rode by the ui)por path, over the shoulder of the hill, and came down on the other side. I had thus a fine view of the whole locality ; of the val- ley where the city lies — a narrow valley, rich with fig and olive-aroves, and overhung by the rocky bases of Ebal and Gerizim, where the S({uare black entrances of tombs dotted the strata of the rocks. From this height, Jacob's land l(X)ked a beautiful expanse. The well is a mere rough heap of stones, with a hole in the middle, nearly closed up. What there is below-ground, I can not say ; but this is all that is to be seen on the surface. It is not a well likely to be in use now, for there are many springs and shallow cistcuis (though no well) between this and the town, which lies about a mile and a holf oir. Everybody knows that the Jews had no friendly dealings with the Samaritans in the time of Jesus. The ((uarrel had then lasted above 500 years. How many suns had gone down upon their wrath! The Samaritans had wished to assist the Jews in rebuilding the temple of Jerusalem : but the Jews hated them as a mixed race, and would not admit that they had any right to share in temple worship, or any other Jewish jjrivileges. It really was a most serious f^lijeciion to^ the Samaritans, that they were of a mixed race ; not only because the Jews believed that they held the promises on the very ground of the purity of their race; but because the inter- marriages of the former Samaritan Israelites with Assyrians and others disposed them to idolatry, or at least to a worship as mixed as their race. So the Samaritans wero excluded from the rebuilding of the temple, above 500 yearsB.C. And not being perinitlcd to help, they did nil thoy could to hinder. About 100 years after, they obtained leave from the Per- iloseJ up. What there is 1 not sny ; but this is all I the surface. It is not a ti use now, for there are lallow cisterns (though no anil the town, which lies inlf oir. 's that the Jews had no th the Samaritans in the e (juarrel had then lasted :Iow many suns had gone vrath! "The Samaritans *t tlie Jews in rebuilding ilem: but the Jews hated ace, and would not admit right to share in temple er Jewish jirivileges. It serious ritijeclion to^ the 3y were of a mixed race ; ; Jews believed that they n the very ground of the !; but because the inter- rmer Sainariran Israelites i others ilispo.^ed them to to a worship ns mixed as Samaritans wcro excluded of the temple, above 500 t being )iermitied to help, aid to hinder. About 100 :aincd leave from the Per- IS .:s ■*n ^■iimt *»*' 18S TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. sian court (to wliicli both the Jows and they | were sui)jcet), to built u secimil temple to i Jeli.ivali; and they build it on Mount Gerii'.im. | This wus a shacking impiety in the sight of the Jews ; and it was the occasion of a num- | her of liix-minded Jews, who had broken the ] hiw, by marrying heathen wives, or other- 1 wiue, and who" yet wished to worshi() Jehovah in the tin)|ilu, resorting to Sychar, to join the ^ Samaritans, and render thei'r race yet more ; mixed. This was the quarrel which the woman of Siimaria referred to when she spoke of the (lueslion, whether " men ought to wor- ship in this mountain or in Jerusalem !" and thus isexpl ined her wonder that Jesus, being a Jew, should ask water of her who v/as a Samaritan. There was also a quarrel about their Scriptures; the Jews insisting tci this day, that the Samaritans had altered two or three texts, relating to these two mountains, Ebal and Uerizim, in their own sacred copy of the books of Moses; the Samaritans in- sisting, of course, that theirs was the true copy. From my early youth, I had always taken a strong interest in this old quarrel, feeling sympathy with both parties, and a keen de- light in tbe wise and soothing words of Jesus concerning it. What a truth it was for both partii's to hear, that God was now to be wor- 8hi|)i)ed everywhere ; and that all places were henceforth to be as sacred as the Jerusalem temple, or the mountain at Sychar! And what a le-.son in liberahty it was to the Jews when he gave honor to the Samaritan in the parable, on account of his good works, above the sacred priest and the servant of the tem- ple at Jerusalem. Both parties were, of course, wrong in their fierce anger : bit each had much to i)lead on his own side. The Jews were bound to keep their race and wor- ship pure ; and held, as an essential matter of faith, that Jehovah would have but one dwel- ling-place ; which was their view of their temple. And the Samaritans were surely right in persisting in their endeavor to worship Jehovah, in accordance with the laws of Moses, as they did not believe in strange gods ; o'^d, if the Jews could not admit them to worship in the tenqile at Jerusalem, they could not be blamed for building one for themselves. Such was always my view of the matter : and such being mv view, it was w'.th inde- scribable interest that I looked this day upon Mount (ieri/.im, and remen;bered thut some- where in the city we were aj)proaehing, was treasured that sacred copy of the Samaritan Pentateuch (books of Moses) which the pos- sessors believe to be the true one. nnd to be 3,500 yean old. The most learned men among 'the Christians do not believe it to be cearly so old as that : but they have a high opinion of its value, and would follow it sooner than any other, I believe, (^xcejiting instances where the di' puted texts about Ebal and Ger- izim are concerned. The present inhabitants of the city hate the Christians as heartily as the old iidiabitaiits used to hate the Jews. The present inhabit- ants are Mohammedans of a most bigoted character; and they would admit neither Jews nor Christians within their gnti-s, till wiiliin a few years; when the government of the country (then Egyptian) compelled them to better monners. They dared Jiot refuse us admission; but they behaved with great in- solence. We had to ride friim end to end of the city, our tents being pitched on a green on the other side. Our horses had to go as sh)wly as ])ossible through the narrow stn^et, which would not hold two abreast, and was paved with large slippery stones. As we rode along, one behind another, at this funeral pace, all the people came out to stare, and many to mock. Three times, things were thrown in my face ; men anil women laughed and sneered, and children thrust out their tongues. I felt what a lesson this was to in- tolerance about matters of opinion. These people hold a faith which is very nolde and beautiful. Few of us know how noble and beautiful is the Mohammedan faith. And there is no need to say w'lat their visiters thought of the Christian faitli as they hold it: and yet, what a scene of hatred and misun- derstanding was here! And thus it is, but too often, in the streets of other cities, wher(^ men ought to know better than todes])ise each other for worshipping the same God in a dillerent manner. In the streets of other cities, men take upon themselves to pity and despise one another, with no better knowledge in reality of one another's views and feelings, than these Mohammedans had of ours, or we of theirs. At last, we were through ! and glad I was to issue from the gate at the furtlier end. But a sad sight awaited us there. A company of lepers were under the trees, crying out to us for charity, and stretching out their maimed hands. It is a terrible sight, which we see too often in that country, it saddened us at Jerusalem, almost every day. Our tents were pitched on a weedy plot of cround, among gardens, orchards, and rippling streams, and looking up to Ebal on the one side, and (Jeri/.im on the other. Ebal is still the sternei -looking mountain of the two; but Gerizim has lost much of its fertility. Both have tombs and votive buildings on them, which show them to hove been places of pil- grimage. Affr dinner, we ascended a height, past the Mohammedan cemetery, whence we had a fine view, in the last sunlight, of this most beauti' M ', anil would follow it sooner liolicvc, cxct'i)!!!!;; instances il texts about Ebal and Ger- 1. labitants of the eity hate the rtily as tht.- old iidiubitants ews. The present inliiihit- tiiedans of a most l)ii;oted ■y would admit neither Jew's tliin their {iiites, till williin en the goveniment of the yptian) cimipelled them to They dareil not refuse us icy behaved with great in- 1 to ride from end to end of } being pitched on a green . Our horses had to go ns through the narrow striM't, I hold two abreast, anil was ! slippery stones. As we diind another, at this funeral iple came out to stare, and Three times, things were e ; men and women laughed 1 children thrust out their diat a lesson this was to in- natters of opinion. These th which is very noble and nf us know how noble and Mohammedan faith. And to say w'lat their visiiers ristian fait'ii as they hold it : scene of hatred and misun- ere! And thus it is, but too ts of other cities, where men ter than todesjnsc each other he some God in a dilU'rent streets of other cities, men ;lves to pity and despise one better knowledge in reality dews and feelings, than these ad of ours, or wc of tlieirs. ire through ! and glad I was Tate at the further end. But ed us there. A company of r the trees, crying out to us itretching out their maimed terrible sight, which we see country. It saddened us at it every day. ! pitched on a weedy plot of irdens. orchards, and rippling king up to Ebal on the one n on the other. Ebal is still ig mountain of the two ; but much of its fertility. Both votive buildings on them, n to hove been places of pil- i/e ascended a height, past the inetery, whence we had a fine sunlight, of this most beauti- j TRAVELS IN THE HOLY LAND. 189 ful city. It was once the capital of Sarnarin ; and it is still, ami must ever be, from its situa- I tion, a very striking iilace. It eonipletidy HHs j till' valley, from side to side, and ascends a little way u|) the skirts of (rerizim. Its houses, with their flat white roofs, are hedged in by the groves wdi' !i surround the town : vines spread from roof to roof, and fro.'ii court to court ; two or three palms sjiring up in the midst, and higher aloft still, a graceful minaret here and there. Tiieii, to my delight, we descended to seek the Samaritan syna:,'iigue. '^Ve were guided to it, and I saw nearly all the Samaritans of the |)lac(!; good-looking people, the men wear- ing tlie high, helmet-like turbuti which we see in the portraits of Josej)hus, and other old Jews. They said their number was sixty in thi-^ place, and about forty more elsewhere — only a huu- (Ir ' in the whole, world. They declared their c priest and the rest of their sect to be at tieuoa. They keep three great feasts in the year, going up (ierizim as the Ji.'ws used to go up to the temple. Tl'.e synairogue was a small, ordinary-look ing chapel, within a curlainrd recess of which is k<;pt the old copy of the I'entateuch. It was shown to us, after somt; entreaty on our l)art ; but I found it was imiiossible that I Could be allowed to touch it. I telt it a great event to have seen it. Ir is written on a sort of vellntn, in the Samaritan text, clear, small, and even. The vellum is tattered ; but it is well mounted on parch- inetit. The |)riest himself dures not touch the MS. without careful purilication ; and he holds it by the ends of the rollers on which it is fixed as a scroll, like the copies of the Jewish law in synagogues. Wc were lighted tlirough the archways of the street, on our way home, and down the hill, by a single candle which burned steadily in the still air. Our employment this evening was reading aloud the liistory of the Jewish and .Samaritan controversy, and the fourth chapter of tiic gospel of John. While we were thus read- ing in our tent, the jackal was in full cry on the slopes of Geri/.im. We passed the night of the 14th of April in our tents, just outsiih; the town of Jenin. Our dragoman had warned us of the thie\ ish character of the peo])le of this neighborhood, so that we had an eye to such of our jjroperty as was lying about while the tents were pre- paring. Tlie governor called, had cotlee, and appointed four guards: so that we sujiposed ourselves safe from robbery. But in the morning the best umie was gone : and the ftmr guards declared themselves wholly unable to say when, how, and by whom, the'aiiimal was set loose from its fastenin;;s and carried otF. I Our departure wos delayed : the governor was 'sent for; and a ]ireteiiiled impiiry was made : I and this gave me opportnnily to walk about j for an hour after breakfast — through the little j town, through an orange grove where every I tree was white with blossom ; and up a neigli- i boring hiil, whence I saw, to my surjirise, a I snowy mountain peak to ihe northeast. This \vas the summit of (Jebel Sluukh — the mount- ain which closes it. the north end of the valley of the Jordan, and then joins on to the range of Antilibanus. From my jmint of view, T could see too tilc beautifur|)luin of Esdraelon which we were to traverse this day ; and the hills to the north which enclosed Nazareth, where we hoped to slee|) this night: and to the west, some tokens of the rise of a line of hills which we should soon see swelling into Mount Curmel, where we were to go to-mor- row. What a prosj)ect lay before both eye and mind ! Our dragoman told us we might make our- selves easy al)out our mule. He had no doubt it was in 8omi> stable in the town. We should be asked to leave a muleteer behind, and in a day or two the animal would be delivered to him, with a demand of a few ])iastres for the trouble of finding the nmle on the mountains. It is i)robable that nnitters stoinl exactly so, for the muleteer followed in two days with the beast, having |)aid fourteen piastres for the troiible of lindin^: it ! Thus far, wt' had travelled oidy among hills and along valleys; and to-day we heartily en- joyed our ride over the rich plain of Esdraelon. It was fertile and ilowery from end to end; and the young [lanridges ran under the very feet of my horse. .Small Ijirds (lilted in mul- titudes on every side ; and tall cranes stood among the high grass. The Carmel range grew upon the sight, as we had expected ; and the blue hills of Galilee closed in the view northward. Liitlc Mount Hermon rose on our sighl : and on its ninth acclivity lay the villago of Nuin. A round hill, droppeil over with old oaks, was Mount Tabor. V^illages were well placed on such rising grounds as there were amidst the plain : and our track lav, broad, level, and green, among rows of tall artichokes and patches of rich cultivation. When aliiiut two thirds of the way over, we crossed the great caravan track from Egypt to Damascus. We huil been to Egypt, and we were going to J) ascus; but we did not follow this track. We held on northward, to the (Jalilean hills. We entered among these hills about an hour bef(u-o we reached Nu/arelh, winding up and down, and round the base of one, and the shoulder of another, sometimes among scatter- ed wood, sometimes over stony tracts, and always in sight of many goats. After mount- ,, 1 1' . '■» " 190 TRAVELa m THE HOLY LAND. Moant Cannel. ing a very steep pass, anfl coining to a well, anrl winding rouml a hill unce more, we came suddenly in sight of ])retty Nu/.areth. Its basin of fertility is channins; — its little plain, full of gardens and groves and fields, surround- ed, as it seemed, completely by hills. The to^vn is in fact a poor one ; but, built of stone, and covering a good deal of ground, and ex- tending a little way up the western slopes, it looks well from above. Here, then, we had before our eyes the scenery amidst which Jesus grew up. Its character can not have changed very murh since his day. A fertile basin among the everlasting hills, and the primitive little town which thoy protect, must bear much the same aspect from age to age. The great addition is the convent and church of the Latin monks : but these buildings do not stand out ofTensive- ly to the eye ; but mingle well with the flat- roofed stone houses of the town. In this convent we had to take up our abode. We longed to pitch our tents on the green below the town: but there was apprehension of rain, and it was thought better to go under the convent roof; which is truly a hospitable one. I I do not know what it is about the services of this church which is soadbclingtostrangers: bat I observe that all travellers speak of the siron^' cmo'.ions excited here. Few believe tliat the i)kces under the church are what they are siiiil to be. Few t)eliove that the little ' caves shown! by the minks are the kitchen i and sittins-room of the jmrents of Jesus ; and : that the sjiois marked out by two granite pil- lars are those where Mary and the angel stood ! nt the time of the annunciation. I ail. There is in the chorus of the " yo-ho," of th*^ sailor, as he labors in his vo- cation, that which makes it lighter. Itinerant venders of goods, have set their proirentd sale to regular notes, so that the dif- ferent articles whirh they carry, are known long before the words which accompany the cadence are heard. Wc were much amused lately, when reading " Letters from a Gentle- man in the North of Scotland, to his Friend in London," written befor 1730, with an ac- count of the manner in which music accelera- ted the harvest-work. He says, " When there are any number of women employed, they all keep time together, by several tones of the voice, and stoop and rise together as regularlv as a rank of soldiers when they ground their arms. Sometimes they are inci- ted to their work by the sound of a bagpipe ; and by either of these things proceed with great alacrity, it being disgraceful for any one to be out of time with the sickle." They use the same means when thickening the new- wovon plaiding, which is done by six (,r eight women, sitting upon the ground, near some river or rivulet, in two opposite ranks, with the wet cloth between them : " their petti- coats are tucked uji, and with their naked feet they strike one against another's, keeping ex- act time, as above-mentioned ; and among numbers of men employed in any work that requires strength and joint labor, as the launching of a boat or the like, thsy must have the piper to regulate their time." Trav- ellers, in passing through the southern states, must have often remarked the slaves light- ening their labors by chanting some simple melody in concert. To keep rime seems a natural propensity : why it should be so, may yet be determined by philosophers. It would be beyond our limits to point out one instance in a hundred, that we could enumer- ate ; but in everything we hear (though it may pass without our observing it) there is a kind of measure, and this often suggests sub- jects to musical composers. A favorite air imitated the yelping of dogs so exnetly, that it could not be heard wiiliout the resenililaiice being perceived. One of the most delightful compositions was suggested l)y the regular strokes of the lilacksniith's hauiiiier against the anvil. Sir Charles Bell, in his admirable treatise on the hand, observes — "The divis- ions of the time in music in some degree de- jjend on the muscular sense. A inun will put down his stall' in regulated time : and in his common walk, the sound of his steps vyill fall into measure. A boy striking the railing in mere wantonness, will do it with a regular succession of blows. This disposition in the muscular frome to ])Ut itself into motior. with an accordance to rime, is the source of much tha^^is i)leasing in music, and assists the ef- fect of melo(il." Till! nicely of iifrni'ptiim for fine soumb in Hoino minds 'is an iiinarkiililo ii* the extreme enjoyment they derive from them. A musi- cal 'j^entleiiiiui' meiuioned ill compnny, that amidst all the noise of u larj^e |)arty, ho could distiniruish the faiatest tinkle on a \vine-j>luss, l)ecauae it was a mnsii-ul sound, .'^miie years ago, an emineul violinist arrived in KlinlMirijll, , and took up his lod;;in!is in a street where all , the houses wi're externally alike. Ileluininu j home latt! one evenini;, and having; forgot the ^ number of the house, lie was at a loss to find j liis home, till a musical expedient occurred to him. Cnnc'riving that he >hiuild In; abiisj^lo distinguish ihestrefi-door hell of his landlaifj's house, he deliberately went along a small por- tion of the street, ringing each l)ell, till he ar- rived at one of a ]ieculiar tone, which he at once ri'cognisi'd as the riglit one, and on hear- ing whicii, he waited till he was admitted. We do not know if the hero of the subseipient anecdote was in any d(^groc gifted as a musi- cian ; but his percei'itiou of nicety in tcaie seems to have been as great as that of Signor E . It was in \pril, H.'iG. that Lieutenant Layer, on leave of absence, from his regiment, sjient a night in the Bush-Inn in Manchester. In the morning, as lu; was sitting at breakfast, a band of street musicians came past, and in one of the iiistrmueuts (the serpent) he thought he recognised the peculiar style of playing of a man who h.ulonce jierformcd on that instru- ment in the l)aiid of his regiment, hut who hud deserted. Tho lieutenant immediately ran down stairs, found his surmise correct, and had the man ap|)reh(mded. To those entircl^^ ungifted with music, such delicacies in this particular intellectual sense seem miraculous. Mr. Burette, and other physicians, have believed that music all'ected the whole nervous system, so as not only to give temporary re- lief in some diseases, but to achieve radical cures in many cases. He thought that music could jmllinte the |)ains of the sciatica. He conceived that certain vibrations of the nerves, along with other elFects produced, to be the cause of this ; and that its power of fixing attention, and withdrawing the mind from the feelings which occupied it to dirt'erent chan- nels of thought and sensibility, awakening dormant sensations, might produce a power- ful ertect, that might operate on the entire frame, causing changes almost miraculous. Theophrastus asserted that diseases have either been cured by music or mitigated. We find this illustrated in Mrs. Grant's " Letters from the Mountains," when she mentions the effect which the singing of his attendants had on her little boy, in soothing his last sufferings ; but, like everything she ATote, it is sc) interesting- ly given in her own words, that it is best to transcribe the passoge. " 1, for my jmrt though a stranger to the art of music, am well acipiointed with its jiower, and subject to its inlhience in its rnilest forms, particularly when it breathes the spirit of that sentiment which for the time predominates in my mind, or wakes some lender remembrance with which accident has connected it. When my dearest little boy was in the hist stage of that illness which proved fatal to him, we had thrive maids who had all good voices. One was afraid to sit up alone to attend my calls, on wliich the nursemaid ngreeil to sit with her, and lull the infant beside; her. The solitary maid was then afraid to stay alone in her attic abode. The result was, that the three syrens sung in concert a great part of the night, wdiich seemed to sooth the dear siilU'rer so much, that when they ceased, he often desired thiit they would begin again. Hi; listened to it three hours before he expired. I never hear the most imiicrfect note of Cm ChalUn since without feeling my heurt-strings accord with it." Sir Henry Halford, in his essays and ora- tions, mentions the >;ase of a gentleman who became insane on the loss of his [iroperty, and for months was in such a state of stupefaction, that he remained perfectly motionless, not moving imless when jiushcil ; nor would he speak to or notice any iierson. Music in the street at length jiroduced its effect. He was observed to listen, and to be still more awaken- ed to its iiower the second time ho heard it. The person under whose care he was, avail- ed himself of this happy omen, and offered him a violin. He seized it eaijerly, and constant- ly amused himself with it. 'The result was most fortunate : in two months he was dis- missed cured. Sir Henry alludes distantly, but airectingly, to the case of George III., who had been his patient, and bears testimonj; to the power which music had oyer his mind, mitigating the sadness of seclusion. And we have heard a most touching account of the venerable king : sightless and secluded, a prey to visionary delusions, yet finding a sweet solace for his troubled mind in "the touches of sweet harmony." There, at his instru- ment, he might often be seen, wrapt in thought, as the strings responded to his touch in the sacred strains of Handel. One of the most remarkable instances of th» efficacy of music occurred during the celebra- ted Farinelli's visit to Spain. The queen determined to try the effect of his astonishing powers on the king, who had had a passion for music. He was then laboring under such a dejection of spirits, as baffled all medical treatment, and disappointed every effort made U ■; I'OWKll OF MUSIC. ATiitr, it is si) iiitert'Mting. Words, tliat it is Ix'sl to n<;(;. " 1, fur my jmrt the nrti)f iiiusir, nin well pnwor, niul Hulijcct to its t I'orins, piirticulnrly when (if tlmt sciitiinriit which iniiiatcs ill my mind, or rcmeiiiliraiiii' witli which edit. When rnyn<; ; thi; wnrm current of ufVcetion pushcMl fn.m its hidden springs ; she clasped him in her arms, iind wee()ing and kissing him over and over again, she entreated forgiveness, and promised to love and cherish him as long as she lived. The promise waa inviolably and tenderly ke|)t. The most simple music, or that which is hardly music at nil, often finds its wny to the very henrt. It is said thiit Curran attributed his first impressions of elfHpience and jioetry to the will! eliunt of the Irish cry, or funeral dirge. TIk^ memory of 'lonie of thos(3 strains, which have been often described as something unearthly, ond resembling the rmdody of an .Eolian harp, no doubt flitted across his mind, as he has sat preparing himself for the defence of some client's life, os was his wont, with his violin in his hand, from which ever ond anon he drew forth wild and plaintive sounds. It is customary with the improvisatori to sweep the chords of an instrument os they composi; their verses, to aid thinr conceptions. Even the music of bells produces a powerful ellect. Who does not feel his spirit lighten os he hears the merry chime of festive bells ? Who does not feel a touch of awe as the death-bell tolls? The inhabitants of Limerick arc proud of their cathedral bells ; and well they may, for they are passing sweet. They boast that they were brought from Italy, and tell of their haying occupied the skill of a clever young artist for some years. By the time he had manufactured them, their chime had taken such possession of his heart, that he resolved never to leave them ; so that when he sold them to the prior of a convent, he removed to their neighborh(K)d, that he might still hear their music : he hoped that they would toll his re(|uiem. Troubles came — he lost his property — the convent was laid waste — the bells were taken away — and this grieved the artist more than any of his losses ; he wan- dered over many of the countries of Europe, hoping to reach the spot where his bells might be. Years after they had been manufactured, it happened thot, toward the close of spring, on a lovely evening, a vessel had anchored at soiae distance from Limerick, and a boat was seen to glide from its side along the Shannon. It had been hired by one of the passengers — tfie Italian artist — now grown old and gray. He was impatient to reach the city, to which he had traced his much-loved bells. As they rowed along the smooth waters, the steeple of the cathedral appeared in the distance above the surrounding buildings J the boatmen [Kiint- ed it out to the stranger, as he sat in the sieni ; he fixed his eyes earnestly and fomllv upim it. The boat glided on; but all at onee" thruimh the stillness of the hour, the peal friini iFie sweet cathedral brils burst upon the air ; the stranger crossed his orms upon his lireiist and leant back. The shore wos reached ; liie face of the Italian was still turned toward the ca- thedral, but the spirit hod fled, and the li.-lls hod tolled his reijuiem ! SL.WEUY IN RUSSIA. TiiKUE are forty millions of serfs in (3reat Russia, the largest slave population in the world. FortA' millions of men — glebie nd- scrifiti — attached to the soil, bought and sold with the soil, on which they arc boni, and on which they die. Upward of twenty millions of these serfs belong to the crown, the remain- der to the nobles. Previous to the sixteenth century, the peasantry of Great Russia, re- tained the privilege of moving from place to place, held the free disposal of their |)ersons, and sold their services for a term of years. In 1.598, when Boris Gedcnof oseende'd the throne, ond sought the sujiport of the nobles, he mode a law by which the peasant was bound to the soil, and become the property of the noble. The value of an estate in Weliki Russia, depends more ujion the number of its peasants than its acres. Some occupy a vast extent of country, and contain as man^ as one hundred thousand souls. The proprietor pays an an- nual tax of about one dollar and sixty cents upon every serf. The condition of the' latter, varies according to the circumstances and dis- iwsition of the master. As a general rule, he has tt house and a piece of ground, and the privilege of feeding o cow U|)on the common near the village. For these ho pays with his labor. The steward of the lord ossigns him a daily task, which is easily accomplished be- fore noon. The remaining hours are at his nvn dispf)sal, except in harvest, and certain other times, when he and his wife must turn out into the field. He can not leave the estate, or learn o trade without permission. The master must maintain him, furnish him with food and medicine when it is necessary, ond is liable to a fine, if he is found destitute or begging u{K)n the highway. Stray serfs, runaways, or {)easants, whether free or bound, roaming without o passport, are detained and advertised ; and, if not reclaimed, or relieved by the owner or some responsible person, are sold at public sale. The proprietor can not irigs; tho bontinnn [Hiint- :;r, ns lio snt in tlic strrn ; lestly iirid fondly npim it. but all at oDcr', tliriiiii;h lonr, till! peal Crorii tlic Uurnt u|M)ti the nir ; the .nn« upon his breast and ro WAS rf!«ched ; I lie fuco 1 tunifid toward tin- ca- Imd fled, and the bells IN RUSSIA. illions of serfs in (Jrent luvc population in the lis of men — glcbiB ad- 10 soil, bouglit and sold h they ore born, and on I'ord of twenty millions 1 the crown, the rcniain- evious to tho sixteenth Y of Great Russia, ro- : moving from place to sposal of their |)ersons, ;s for a tenn of years. Gedenof asrended the support of the nobles, ifhicn the peasant was jccamo the property of tato in Weliki Russia, I number of its pi.-asants occupy a vast extent of s many as one hundred proprietor pays an an- dollar ond sixty cents condition of the' latter, circumstances and dis- As a general rule, he ece of ground, and the cow uijon the common these he nays with his )f tho lord assigns him easily accomplished l)e- ining hours are at his n harvest, and certain and his wife must turn le can not leove the e without permission, itain him, furnish him e when it is necessory, if he is found destitute lighway. Stray serfs, whether free or bound, sport, are detained and reclaimed, or relieved responsible person, are rhe proprietor can not SWITZERLAND. 199 oblige the serf to marry contrary to his incli- niiriiin ; and, on the other hand, the cirgrv can not nnirry him without the permission of the iniister. The serf can not bi; sold oil" the csiafc, or separated from his family, and many ntlicr liiunane provisions havu been made for hi-. Iiii|ipiness and sofety. Hut it is futile to speak of rules and regula- tions in a e((Mntry where wealth and birth, give des|)otic. power. Thc! proprietor is gf)v- erned in his action entirely by his interest, anil lie treats his jieasants precisely as he pleases. Jle sells ihem whenever a good price is of- tered, and he send* them wherever it suits his ciiliveiiienee. He makes them weave or jilougli ; ho hires them out by the month or year, just as it pleases him to do. In the same Way, In^ may treat them with kindness or with blows; but as they are generally re- garded as insensible anil uiigrat(;t'ul, they get more kieks than favors. 'J''lie serf ean not aeciisi! the master. If the blows of the lat- ter cause death within tliree days he is lined ; liul it the serf lives more than three days after severe punisliinent, the master is not lia- ble. If the serf is killed without premedita- tiim, by any otlii;r than the master, the killer pays tile master three hundred and eight dol- lars. If he is killed with premeditation, there is no indeinniticatioii for the niast(!r, and the munliM'er is res[)i)nsible to the police. That the Russian serfs arc often sold with- out the lands on which they dwidl, is truly stated by Mr. Maxwell, but we believe he is mistaken in saying that they can not be sold by law. The imperial council has once for- mally determined that such sales are legal. In the subjoined passage, the reader will notice several remarkable resemblances be- tween the Russian serf, and the negro slave : — '•The posadki, or freed man, can not hold lands or serts ; but they have other privileges, and in the distant provinces display, as we have mentioned, all the natural vigor of the race, and are distinguished for industry, and the most indefatigable perseverance in the pursuit of gain. But the serf has not the same inducements, and exhibits none of tho activity and industry so remarkable in the l)()sadki. He is the creature of apathy, and all the stirring qualities of his nature are latent and unfleveloped. He works as he is directed, and manifests the same rude ability in any employment ho may follow. "He is ordered to be a musician, mechanic, or a manufacturer, and becomes either of these with astonishing facility, though he excels in none. Neither the fear of the lash, nor the promise of reward, can force him to work with the plane or saw ; but wth the hatchet, which he always carries at his girdle, he will hew the forest trees, prepare his Ibgs and plank, build a housn, and makn his furniture. He never exerts liis full strength. If the burden is a heavy one, he calls for ns»istani:e. It is a common thiii^j to see a hundred men holding to a rope, and hauling a stone or a piec^e of timber, that would have bi'en handled with ease, by twelve or twenty Knglishmen. Un such occasions, before the umIkmI elli)rt is made, the Russian workmen sing for some minutes in chorus, and tho end of the song is the signal for the pull altogether. After two or three pulls they stop, and the singing lie-ins again, and so on to the completion of the work — more than half the time at least being passed in these muNical interludes. 'I'he task IS therefore often a light one, and easily per- formed. When it is finished, tht^ laborer is at liberty to employ himself as he pleases. Should he do double iluty, however, he would not be rewarded, and instances are kuowii, within the observation of the writer, where the otler of the peasant to perform an extra task had been rejected, and for the reason, that any such proceeding was unusual, and calcu- lated to ))roduce confusion. So the serf, leav- ing his wife to cultivate his garden and tend the loom, loiters away the balance of the day in indolence." The disinclination of the serf to hard work, his apa'hy under chastisement, the necessity of employing half a do/en to do the work of one, the "lightness of his tasks, and his jirac- tice of singing when several work in company, are circumstances in which he resembles the African slave, as seen in tho southern states, ond in the West Indies. Mr. Maxwell [loints out some other resemblances — such as the fre- quency of great longevity among the serfs, and the extraordinary multiplication of tho race. ■ Every year another million is added to tho population of the Russian empire. SWITZERLAND. SwiTZKBLAND Is rcputcd to be the freest country in Europe. This is an error, arising most likely from the common notion that the country is a confederacy of republics, which wrested its freedom from surrounding despo- tisms. It is one thing to throw off a foreign yoke, and another to establish internal free- dom. Switzerland at the present day, with all its wonderful industry and spirit of liberal- ity in matters of inteniational trade, is, in point of fact, a cluster of little despotisms, the despots in each case being a majority of the population which oppresses the minority — op- pression on the score of religion and of birth. Ignorance, and selfishness — which is only a 800 IWITZKRLAND. I mnnifo»toti()n of ignormicc — are Cdtijointlv iln- cni(:ie I't' tlii>i dixrrcilifnlilf" »fnt»' of nlVtiir'*. I'tiil ' •'!'• rniiiiriiin imtiu' c,f Swinn, thm- !;riMt Kn 'n'l'sinfi't iiml tu'iHtl<)iil>(nitth« heart ot I -tilt,' Frriich from tilt- went, tlu' OiTiiiiiii tmiii thp north ntiil cattt, iiiiiliho Itnl- inii troiii the xoiitli ; niiil ihi; wuiit of corninii iiji-ntioii, till of liitc yporx, hax kc|tt these race* ttiiiirt mill iijnoriiiit of eaeh other. Nowhere, nisi - liie (listinetion of reliuimi more 'imrkrd. T'.v.. 'liriU of the Swisn circ protestnnts, niiil the rc'iriaiiiirig one third entholirfi ; anil the pntteKtiiiits niu! cntholic rniitons, a» the recent civil war liitn «hown, hate eiieh other ns the hiwtile eliiiiH in the hi>{hlnmU hated each other two hnmiri-d yearn ago. Besiden, though Swit/erlauii, coin|)nred with nuwt eoiintries; is n liiijil of nioiintainH, the great jmrt of it is eom|io^cili)f plaiiiH o'nid.^! thestiipendfms Al[w. Two hours' stilV elimhing suHiren to change friiMi the ncat-triinrned Hower-garden and Ntiic- encd ciittai;'' "f 'ho industriouH ortisnn of Zu- ricii. into the lofty hill-coimtry of ISc-hwoitz. wlnTe the mountaineer lendn n half- vagabond existence, tending his nutneroim goats among litorms and mist, whilt! his children run rugged iind liiircfooted along the road, begging from triivrllers. Between i)eople so variously sit- uoteil there can be little sympotliv. A conseiruence of this national disintegration has been, that the rights of citizenship posses- sed in one cnnton have always been gixxl for nothing in another. The citizen of Geneva, who was driven to settle in the Valnis, was allovvcd toleration; but neither he nor his posterity coulil, by any length of residence, li'.'coinc denizens of their adopted country. A Roiniiii catholic at Lucerne "who turned nrot- estunt, lost all his property, and was liable to banishment ; a protestant at Btime turning Koman cntholic, was punished in like man- ner. Several of the present cantons continued, up to the tinif of the French revolution, to be vassals to the larger ones. Thus the canton of Berne was sovereign lord of the present cantons of Vnud, Uri, and Tessin, 'viiich it crushed with taxation, without admitting its subjects to any ))()litical rights whatever. Thus, in process of time, it came to pass that all over Switzerlond there gre \ iic a distinct biHly -iir, tlic t'lirni nil nr^iini/ril ImiK' ;«ti'r><, iiilfi'ur", unil utu'ti iticH of niluT cciiiiilrii-', hut IH, rotil|ia('t, iiikI Iniriinlii- 'liich hiiM ciiNi thciii nut. llicnc FlriiimililoMi ri Wfrt; )nu\ thiit iliiir Ntiiic ^san C'lllinn of tile Swiss diet, uirics urcordiriiilv, flic ri'. V licfore HH. Tlic ri.'|i(irt iloscn to niiiininr Id itmiiy in nil tlie oi iitriil tiiiiiiiiii, rncva to liip (jirit' offbi ,«'tlionHnii(lsliiiiliiiiy lillowt;(l l»y tlio law fn. Hfi or lodging;. Wlu-iitlicy v\\», they assunu'd, (iir tlic of thrc'iid-twixtcrs, inntcli- I, and mi.'iidi'rsof pot;* and r they niifjht they lived inds RTid inouiitnins, sup- liy all kinds of tliievery. into cavcH, or sleeji ronnd ir ; and tliis tlirough tlio arrias;*! is unknown nmon^ examined could tell tlieir ev/ knew who were their As soon OS the chililren lent i"^to the towns to lieg their jdunder at night to vho remain meantime en- 8t8. They have still a ;nt, and fncir leader at ted housebreaker named ntly executed. Wherev- scovered, they are liaide ;hout cause assigned ; and irisons were overcrowded, 1 without even the formnl- arc now, as soon as seized, to the boundaries of the to the next, by which they I manner, unless they iiui The report recommended lorbing this unwholesome \i\u been frequently ,-incp ling has been done, and ' the country renders any ss likely than ever. years ago the scene of he score of religii.n, and I intelligence has been re- ncil of state of that cnn- ^ftcrian, has enacted that ^s of parties, not in eon- orized church, ere illegal ; such bodies is according- 202 COURTSHIP. ly put down by military force, and ministers arc in danger of thoir lives. A more startling instance of the tyranny of a majority over a minority could scarcely be found in modern times. Our illustration presents a panoramic view of Zurich, the most important manufacturing town of Switzerland, the capital of the Canton of that name, which has taken the federal or j)rotc'-,tant side in the recent struggle. The town lies at the north end of the lake of Zurich, and On ^he banks of the Limmat. It is the seat of the Swiss diet, alternately with IJernc and Lucerne, for a period of two years together. The banks of the lake and river, and all the iKMghboring hills, are thickly dotted with houses, now united with the town itself by the removal of the useless and inconvenient ram- parts, and forming a wide circle of suburbs. _ There is little worthy of note in the public buildings of Zurich. Its most pleasing Tea- turcs are its promenades; the best )f which commands a delightful view of the town, lake, and distant Alps. Zurich is historically remarkable as the place where the reformation first commenced in Switzerland, in 1519. It has also been the asylum of many eminent English protestants; and here was printed, in 1535, the first entire English version of the Bible, by Miles Cover- dale. COURTSHIP. We have seen how little there is deserving the name of courtship in savage life, of either the present or the past. It is only amid the refinements of enlightened nations, that the delights of making love are of common enjoy- ment. In Asia, in Africa, and in much of Europe, marriage is preceded by none of those delicate attentions, and affectionate intP'- change of sentiments, which form the p'oper prelude to the matrimonial engagement. Even in the politest nations, as among the most bar- barous, the marriages are affairs of conveni- ence, in which fortune, position, everything is consulted, but the sentiments of those who are taught to submit in a mattev of such vital moment, to parental dictation. Thus in France, as in Java, young persons meet for the first time in their lives, to be indissolubly united by the marriage tie. Spain was long the land of gallantry and chivalry. After the ancient customs of con- fining women with bolts, bars, and duennas, had giving way, a romantic gallantry was car- ried to the hig'hest pitch, and love became the brightest picture of Spanish life. Though women have long since been per- mitted to have a choice in affairs of the heart, there was still preserved a decorum of man- ners, which prevented a Spanish lady from being alone with her lover. The conseipience is a resort to every ingenious device, by which a glowing passion may find expression. The Spanish lover writes out his adoration in sonnets, and sets his affection to music. At night he sings iiis love-lays under the lattice of his lady. Or if not himself gifted with musical abilities, he hires nrrists who are able to do justice to the ardor of his jiassion. The colder the air without, the more is the seren- ade supposed to warm the heart of the luily within, and as pity is supposed to lead direct- ly to love, the S])anish suitor stays night af- ter night, heaving deep sighs, and casting piteous looks toward the window, sarisfied, yes, supremely blessed, if he receives the slightest signal" of acknowledgment in return. In Spain love is full of sentiment — a deli- cious madness, which, for the time absorbs all other feelings. A Spanish lover scarcely thinks, speaks, or dreams of any but his mis- tress. Not only does his devotion to her ap- pear like idolatry, but he is ready to en- counter any peril, or to engage in any cornbat, to manifest the strength of his attachment. He is ready to jjunish her enemies, fight his rivals, or do battle with the worid at large, in his sweet mistress's cause ; but his choicest opportunity for signalizing his courage and conduct, under the very eyes of his mistress is in the bull-fight, the national festival of Spain, and all Spanish countries. There, sur- rounded by the whole public, and sure that his mistress is watching him, as Hudibras has it : — " He obt«io8 the noblest sponse, Who widows greatest herds of cows." This notion of exciting love by bringing into play the emotion of pity, or synipathy, has been made use of in Spain, in a still more remarkable manner. It was once the custom in Madrid, and other chief cities of Spain, for large companies ef people, who called themselves disciplants or whippers, to form a procession through the public streets, every good Friday, aittmled by the religious orders, courts of law, and some- times by the royal court. The whippers vere arrayed in high sugar-loaf hats, white gloves and shoes, and waistcoats with ribands of the colors preferred by the mistresses of t'jeir af- fections, and were armed with whips of small cords to the ends of which were fastened bits of wax, in which were inserted pieces of glass. The whole city, and espeeitilly the ladies, were spectators of this procession, and as it passed along, he who whipped himself 1 hardest felt sure of winning the favor of his --*i!'??r Rio Grande, and suliject to Indian invasions, contain some uncultivated lands; but the proposition, as above stated, applies to the mass .>f Mexict,. For in the greater portion of the while repub- lic, women and chili! 'en may be seen picking up grains of corn in the highways, and the rinds of fruit thrown in the streets, are imme- diately seized and consumed. So soon as you cross the Rio Grande, you feel yourself in a foreign land. Mexico hns no fiirests. It is true, that along the streams and on mountain- tops there are trees, but you are struck M-ith this great characteristic, that the land is bare of trees. The numerous varieties of the coctus of all sizes, intermixed with palmetto, stunted or long grass, cover the whole land You are among a [teople of a novel color, and a strange language. Tne very birds and beasts, and dogs, seem r"' "jrent. The part- ridge, the Inrk, the cro ' fer in size, and plunia' from ours. The buildj Spanish style. The together. The bricks are of clay and straw, sun-dried. The women go wgth "earthen ves- sels to the vv ell, just os Rachel was sent of old in the time of the patriarchs of Judea. The roofs of the houses are flat, and are places of recreation ; and the people wear sandals as in the East, in filden time. Wheat, Indian com, and herds of cattle, sheep and goats, the banana and re(l-pep[)er, and garlic and onions, are the principal sources of subsistence. The products of the mines, are the principal arti- cles of foreign exchange, added to woods, be- sides tallow and cochineal. The extreme dryness of Mexico, makes irrigation necessory in most of the country, and the scarcity of water, and the habits of the ])eople, collect the inhabitants into cities or villages. The land itself is owned by a few large proprietors, not the least of whom are the priests. The great mass of the peo- ple are serfs, vrilh but few more rights thnn the American slaves. It is true, that the chil- dren of serfs, are not of necessity also serfs, but debts brings .-slavery, and the wages allow- ed by law, almost always perpetuate it. Here then is the secret of the success of our arms. I converscil freely with the tenantry and soldiers in all Mexico, and where they are ie black-bird, dif- id sing diflferently are of Moorish and t and the sheep feed % 'tT IT I 206 WINTKR TRAVELLINO IN RUSSIA. not filled with religious enthusiasm against us, tliey care not who rules thetn, American or Mexican masters. If all the Mexican soldiers were freeholders ond freemen, not one of all the American array could escape from her bor- ders. The soldiers are caught up in the ha- ciendas, and the streets of the towns, by force confined in some prison or convent, there drilled, clothed, armed, and then sent on to the regular army. Such men avow their resolu- tion to desert or run, on the first occasion. Of near one thousand soldiers sent from Toluca, to the aid of Santa Anna at Mexico, not one hundred stood the battle. The whole people do not exceed eight mil- lions ; of these, about two millions arc white, and mixed bloods ; the ijemainder are native Indians, I never, in all Mexico, with the ex- ception of foreigners in the capital, saw a sin- gle white man at work. WINTER TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA. OcK engraving represents one of the cou- riers of the cabinet of the emperor of Rusitia. They wear a military uniform, with official epaulettes, according to their grade. There are constantly a certain number of these cou- riers in attendance, in a chamber of the impe- riol palace, to be despatched as occasion may require. These are confidential persons, and they receive th(;ir orders direct from the em- peror ; and, at any hour of the day or night, they are ready to receive instructions for de- parture, or for delivery of their despatches. At each post, there are relays of horses, spe- cially kept for these couriers, whose approach is announced by a bell suspended from a cir- cle above the head of the centre horse. They travel with surprising rapidity, and they often receive large sums of money for their services. The illustration shows the courier seated, and the mode by 'which he carries the des- patches — in a leather bag; the car, driver, and horses, are alike characteristic portrait- ures. Those who have been accustomsd only to our fine roads, and rapid and regular convey- ances, can form but a very inaderiuate idea of the miseries attending a continental journey, more particularly in Russia, where, with the exception qf the Chaussoe, from Moscow to St. retersburgb, the roads are execrable ; the springless vehicles, the most agonizing that can be irhagincd ; and the post-houses so dirty, so comfortless, that the traveller frequently passes the night in the open air, in his travel- iing-carriage, rather than be exposed to the filth, the swarms of vermin, and the disgust- ing etlluvia, that would have annoyed him within. Excepting those on the great road, already mentioned, there are no stage-coaches in Rus- sia. The traveller is conse(|uently reduced to the alternative, of either purchasing an e(|uipage, or taking the rude vehicles of the country, and changing them at every stage. His tirst iireliminary before starting is, to give notice three ilays previously, of his inten- tion, to the head |)olice-orticer of his quarter, who gives him a certificate, attesting that he has no unliijuidated debts, nor any law-suit pending : he then jirocures from the bureau of the " grond-masfer of the (wlice," a pass- jiort, without which he would not be allowed to pass the city gotes. His next step is to ar- range the mode of conveyance ; of these he lias the choice of two. Upon the payment of stated tax, amounting to aoout a farthing per milo for each horse, he may obtain a govern- ment order, called a ])adoroshnee, entitling him to demand relays at every station, for which he will pay for hire about three fourths more for every horse. At each post-house, he will find a government oflBcer, called a " smotre- tel," or over-looker, whose duty it is to en- register his name, and furnisn the horses, which the peasants are bound to supply. Or, he may contract with a class of men called yimshtchikee, who will undertake to convey him to his destination within a specified time. The former plan is generally adopted by those to whom the trifling additional expense is not an object ; the latter method is, from its novelty, perhaps not unworthy of notice. The yemshtchikee are generally, but not exclusively, frecdmen or crown-vassals, who, together with other immunities, enjoy an ex- emption from military ser\'ice, upon condition of contracting with the government, for the regular supply of horses for its couriers, and for postoffice duty. They frequent, when in the cities, places called, " postoyalee droree," or post-yards, situate in the principal streets entering the town. To these the traveller goes — they assemble round him in great num- bers — he states the distance he wishes to be conveyed, and inquires the sum for which they will contract to take him ; a consultation fol- lows, and a price is named, generally as much again as they intend to take ; he offers what he thinks a fair sum ; another and another eager consultation — and at last, after k ng bar- gaining, the contract is made. He starts, auci is driven two or three stages by the individual with whom he contracted,- who then disposes of his bargain on the best terms he can to an- other, reserving to himself the difTerence — the amount of which alone the traveller pays him. The same transfer is made at intervals upon .Wi i nLnmi^w ift ' j t ' - ' K.ii ' '■ H'.g- ' .g' ^ .v&t^-,- ' imu eBMtm 3IA. IS of vermin, and the ilisnrust- it would have annoyed liim ose on the great road, already e are no stage-coaches in Riis- eller is conse(|uently reduced ive, of either ptirctiasing an king the rudo vehicles of the anging them at every stage, iliminary before starting is, to s days previously, of his inten- J iMilice-otticer of his f]uarter, a certlKcate, attesting that he lated debts, nor any law-suit icn procures from the bureau master of the jwlice," a pass- hich he would not be allowed gates. His next step is to ar- e of conveyance ; of these he )f two. Upon the payment of iounting to aoout a farthing per orse, he may obtain a govern- ed a padorosnnee, entitling him ^s at every station, for which hire about three fourths more At each post-house, he will ent officer, called a " smotre- )ker, whose duty it is to en- me, and furnish the horses, mts are bound to supply. Or, ct with a class of men called 'ho will undertake to convey nation within a specified time. n is generally adopted by those trifling additional expense is the latter method is, from its IS not unworthy of notice, chikee are generally, but not cdmen or crown-vassals, who, )thcr immunities, enjoy an ex- lilitary service, upon condition with the government, for the of horses for its couriers, and luty. They frequent, when in !s callfed, " postoyalee droree," ituate in the principal streets >wn. To these the traveller ^inble round him in great num- I the distance he wishes to be nquires the sum for which they take him ; a consultation fol- :e is named, generally as much ntend to take ; he oilers what .ir sum ; another and another on — and at last, after k ng bar- itract is made. He starts, and ■ three stages by the individual contracted,' who then disposes )n the best terms he can to an- il to himself the difference — the :h alone the traveller pays him. jfer is made at intervals upon ■r r the jriurnpy. Sometimes several mav wish to take the contract : the (|uestion is then ile- cidcd 1)V lot, in n very singuliir way ; one throws liis whip into the air— another seizes it in f'nllins. iinil tlie two then grasp it olteT- natelv, hand over hand, till they reach the rnd, wlien he who last has hold of it i» declared the winner. The yeinshtchikee are a fine race ot fel- lows : some of them, with their dark cluster- , inj; hair, their ample beards, their sun-hnmt ! features. fmi\ their brawny necks, wouhl form studies for a Salvator Rosa. There is an air of bold frankness about them, which is highly pleasing. They have several mel(Klies pecu- liar to^themsi^lves, which they sing almost ■without intermission the whole stage. In Hne weather, and over good roails, there is something delightfully exhilarating in sledge travelling ; snugly enveloped in furs, while . . . " The vault is blue WiUiout a cloud ; and white witlioiit a Bpeck, The dazzling oplendor of the scenes below ; ' the traveller glides swiftly along the level snow, enlivened by the tinkling of the sono- rous bell, attached' to an arch that rises over the head of the centre horse, and cheered or soothed, as his mood may be, by the wild, yet pliiintiv to the very gn)unt' beneath the weight of their lucid covering. "With the o|)proach of spring, the scene changes. Beneath the increased power of the sun, the snow loses its resplemient whiteness — the gem-like icy crystals are lacency, if the cleonly comforts of a de- cent inn could be calculated upon, at the end of the stage— no such thing is to be found in the whole emi)ire, out of the principal cities. The only substitute is the i)easant's or y^msh- tchik's house, or the post-house ; the latter is perhaps preferable, as there the traveller may probably get a leathern sofa, on which to rest his aching, and almost diskx>at«l bones; beds are ((uite out of the cjuestion, and refresh- ments of any kind almost eijuully so. The Russian nobility in travelling, take with them everything 'that is necessary for the roads ; ' bedding, rugs. ()n)visions, culinary utensils, wax-tapers, &c., with j)astiles lor fumigation, the latter a very necessary pre- caution, where the olfactories have not all together lost their sensitiveness. They are invariably accompanied by their cook-— as in the majority of places, actually nothing is procurable, excepting black bread of the coarsest description, eggs, and sometimes milk ; unless indeed, the traveller be content to |)ar- take of the peasants' luxury — boiled gram, eaten with hempseod-oil, as black and as thick as treacle, or a dish called shlchee, a kind i)f cabbage-soup, in which float a few straggling strips of beef. It must be distinctly observed, however. I A. 10. has its nttriictions. The u hi'iivy mussel on the )iinn- uiil he, "If this cunvulsion iliil take pliice iiml i« Iraginciiti* were ncatier<-e of success, many years roU round and finally in December, 1845, we hear onnounced thot another of the asteroids had been added to the four: Astra;a, discovered by Enck6 of Dresden. He was prosecuting this examination for the purpose of finding the n(Kles of the asteroids and on the plane that had been previously adopted, having more accurate charts of the heavens with the stars more core- fully laid down. The moment he detected a new "tar he suspected it of being a planet, and a lew evenings would always settle the investigation; and in this way he detected Astnea. For two years he continues, when lo ! he has found another planet, and Hebe is added to our system. But Y-i had scarcely described it, when Hinds, an Englishman, has fished up another, Iris ; and before we know the name given to this one, the same astron- omer announces another, and Flora is joined to the other seven ! Thus we have the beau- tiful phenomenon of a group of eight sisters revolving around the sun in orbits id' nearly eipial magnitude, in periwls absolutely identi- cal ; alt mcupy the centre of the space be- twcc-n the planets Mars ond Jupiter, and by their joint action, their joint muss, their joint distances, fulfilling this beautiful law ok' Barun de Sue. Having gone through the examination of these objects, I shall proceed to give an ac- count of the planet Jupiter. This is the lorg- est in our system, and one of the oldest known. We have, indeeil, no knowledge of the time when this beautiful orb wis unknown. Go back to the pages of historv as far os you [dcase — go even beyond the Tiiiits of tradition — still you find that this planet was known to the earliest inhabitants. " How do we know this ?" some will hove already imiuired. Let me tell you. If we go to the records of the earliest notions, we find invariably this curi- ous fact : thot the days of the week, seven in number, are named after the jdunets, counting the sun ond imnm, thus — the Sun, the Moon, Mors, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn. Ev- ery notion — the Cninese, the Egyptians, the Persians, the Chaldeans — hove upolicd the names of the planets to the days of tne week. They do not, to be sure, begin the week on the same day ; but beginning with their first day, they run round the cycle exactly in the same order. There is but one way of ex- plaining this remorkoble coincidtnce, and that is: they must have received this from some nation anterior to either of them ; it mnst have come down from the same comwon origin. Hence we run back anterior to tradition itself to find the first discovery of these plonets. In this beautiful planet, Jupiter, we find one that fastened the gaze of the earliest minds that turned their ottention to the heavens, and by possibility it moy hove been detected be- fore Venus; for Jupiter is seen ot all possible tMstances from the sun, while Venus, is olways comparatively near. when the telescope was first directed to this wonlerful orb, a sight was revealed to the nsvorished gaze of old Galileo, thot seem- ed almost to slapify his mind ; there were four beautiful .noons revolving oby which he was surrouiiiled, as he rose frotn his knees he stniiipi'il upon the earth and said, " She does move, though." It seems that Jupiter and its satellites were given for a most valuable purpose, and I ask vour attention to but one or two of their uses. "Ami first, the fact thiit they served to deter- mine the velocity of li>,dit. I know many minds revolt from the conclusion which as- tronomers hove reached, when they say that liiiht flies twelve millions of miles in a minute, ond that there are objects so dif^tant that their liyht would require the enormous period of fifty thousand years to reach our earth. Tn the language of my •' old friend"—" thit is a hard story." It is incredible; but before this course of lectures closes I intend to show clear- ly and positively how this has been determin- ed and how much reliance is to be placed upon this wonderful revelation. Previous to the discovery of the Batellites of Jupiter, and their eclipses, it was believed that light passed instantaneously over the most distant space. It was believed that if a lamn was lighted and the eye could see it through a 8|)ace of millions of miles, that the instant it wafl lighted the eye, if directed toward it, would see the light. On the discovery ()f Jupiter's satellites, they were found revolving in such orbits that in every revolution the three interior ones were always eclipsed and disappeared from the sight. It did not require a long series of observations before the astron- omer" began to predict the coming of their eelijises as we do those of the moon. He ex- amines the result of his computation, and after a while detects a certain amount of discrepan- cy between the observations ot the two op- posite points of its orbit — He tries again, but in »|)ite of all efforts, after long years of toil, he could not reconcile the predictions exactly with the observations, and then he began to infjuire if by possibility there could not be a law which would reconcile theni. Let me endeavor to show how this wasattained. Sup- jiose the earth to be at a given point in its orbit, and Jupiter to be in that part of its orbit on the same side as the earth : the distance which separates them is precisely the differ- flncf of til sun. — Bii' .1, '«nce of til orbits from the I.- earth r< c around ;o the opposite XI ! ihc sun ui I upiter remain iis before! tin- ili^tunct! i» mi\v ineniited by the whole dinioeief of the carth'sorbit l!tO,000,OI)0 miles. Now tin observer on the enrih, I when nearest to Jupiter, will, in the eclipse W llVli III. W»»-dl, »" .«|-.---T » j)f its Hutidlite, see the lifflit disappear too soon according to the computation. Why ? Be- cause the stream of light is shorter liy an omount cpial to the whole diameter of this orbit, and consequently runs out more quickly. When he takes his observotion from the opposite side of the eorth's orbit, he finds the eclipse comes on Uk) late, because the streom has 190,000,000 miles further to run, and of course he will continue to see the satellite till the stream runs out. Now, then, in this way we arc able to determine how lon^ it takes light to pass across the earth's orbit. Then by oscertaining the exact difTerence in these extreme jxiints. this single calculation of the velocity of light would account for all the dis- crepancies, and reconcile theory and observa- tion in the most perfect monner. But to poss across this orbit requires sixteen minutes ; hence the velocity must bo at the rate of 12,000,000 of miles in a minute. Here, then, is the foundation upon which this result was first rested. " Well," some skeptical mind will soy, "thot is only a single observation ; give me confirmation of it from some other sources, or I must reject so aston- ishing a result." For a long time the astron- omer was at fiiult, and the skeptic had in some sense the advantage. But at length a better series of observations are at hand. In certain examinations of the fixed stars it is found that these little points of light, when critically ex- amined, appear to be moving according to a certain law and describing a minute orbit. The cause of this was perplexing to the as- tronomer, and baffled all the efforts of one of the strongest minds that ever gave its jjowers to this subject. But finally the explanation was discovered in the fact that it was owing to the effect produced by the aberration of light— that as the ear h swept round its own orbit, the li;,ht in coming to us caused the boily to appear in different positi*m3 from that in which it then occupied. Let me make this intelU'ible. Suppose you desire to cross a river, 'and the stream will carry you down, and you wish to land at .^ point fixed upon on the opposite shore. W ill you start out from an exactly opposite point and row directly across to the opposite shore T By no means, because you know vou will in that case land below. Now how' far above will you make your starting point T Just as far above as the 1 current will carry you down in the time yon expect to occupy in crossing. But what has i ^ •«sf^ A uLJM. J: 21i ESQUIMAUX INDIANS. tli'm to do with tho velocity of lijjht? I will tfli vdu. Every porticlo of light that Ifttivet yonder orli, in coming toward n» »wee|m down- wiird in th(! dir(.>(;tion of a right line, and when tlin ai4troriotncr turn* hia telescope to receive that point of light and to cause it to pass down the axil* of the tiilie, he must take into account the fact that he himself is moving with a cer- tain velocity. As ho is homo on by the move- ment of the corth, he must take m the other fact that every particle of light is coming with a certain velocity, and he must incline his in- strument so as to couse it to pass down its axis. The omountof inclination depends upon the velocity of light, as the distance you would be carried down the river depends U|)on the velocity of tho water, and when we have in- clined our tube so that the victual ray shall hit the mark, that inclination is precisely whot ought to be given it. Upon oil this calcula- tion it is found ihat light travels twelve million miles in a minute. Here is confirmation strong and irresistible. But one step further : it is found that cer- tain stars are united together — not a planet revolving round a sun, but two mighty suns revolving about each other. To this matter I will call your attention more particularly hereafter. In a certain system of doutile stors which had engaged the scrutiny of the very ablest minds, there were found discrepancies between the observations and computations which could not be reconciled for s long time. The problem seemed utterly beyond our reach ; but at last, within a short time, one of the German astronomers discovered that the whole difficulty has grown out of the fact that the velocity of light was not taken into the ac- count, and that the fact that the star was sweeping around a mighty orbit, ond thus im- pressing its own motion upon the particles of light was not considered. When it was, all the discrepancies disappeared and the velocity of light comes out precisely as before. Here, then, are three demonstrations from diflercnt sources all coinciding ; I will not say exactly, but nearly so. The reason why I do not say exactly is this : a very short time ago I received a communi- cation from M. Struve, a Russian astronomer, who said he was engaged upon the subject of the velocity of light, and had determined what is called tne constant aberration of the fixed stars, and found the value for them was a little dirterent from that obtained in regard to the satellites of Jupiter. — There was a slight va- riation, perhaps a thousandth part of the whole, yet it could be measured, and he said it was impossible there might be a difference between the velocity of direct and reflected light. And he begs me in consequence of the peculiar position of my observatory being more advantageons than his, to furnish a series of eclipses of the fir»t satellite of Jupiter thmueh tho next ten y*'ars, with a view to determine thereby ony ditlttrence between the nciuiil velocity of direct antl reflected light. The is the kind of aceurory attempted to be attained in our own day ; and this, in truth, is the accuracy which is actually reached. You may think it is s[)ending time in vain tn work for ten years to settle a question in which the discrepancy gives you only a second deci- mal place ; but now im|iortant it is to know whether this mysterious element in the oriijin- al movement of light is dilFerent from that when it impinges U|x)n the surface rellecting it, will bo perceived when we reflect that the computation affects the movements of all these bodies, and thot by a correct calculation of this apparently insignificant feature we ottain to a degree j)f accuracy that we can not reach in any other way. ESQUIMAUX INDIANS. The vast region of country lying on tho north shore of the gulf of St. Lawrence, and extending to the eostward of the Snguena as for as Newfoundland, is generally known un- der the name of Labrador. It is on exceed- ingly wild and desolate region, and, excepting on occasii >nal fishing hamlet, or a missionory station belonging to the Moravians, its only inhabitants are Indians. Of these the most fomous tribes ore the Red Indians (now olmost extinct), the Hunting Indians, the Milk-rnaks, and the Es(iuimaux. The latter are by far the most numerous, and it is said that their sway extends even to the coosts of Hudson's bay. They are at the some time the wildest anil most rude inhabitants of this wilderness, and in appearance, as well as manners and customs, closely resemble the inhabitants of Greenland. "During one of my nautical expeditions down the St. Lawrence," says a celebrated traveller, " I chanced to be wind-bound for a couple of doys at the mouth of a nameless river on the north shore, where I happened to find a small encampment of E8(]uimaux Indians. The principal man of the party was exceed- ingly aged, and the only one who could convey his thoughts in any other language than his own. Ho had mingled much with the French fur-traders of the north, and the French fisher- men of the east, and possessed a smattering of their tongue. Seated by the side of this go tiiietile a nuention in whii n 'OH you only a sccoml ili'ci- IV imjiortant it i« to know rioiiH element in the orijjin- ght is (lilferent from that u|X)n the surface retlectinf; il when wo reflect that the I the movements of all these y a correit calculation of ijiniKcant feature we attain racy that we can not reach lATJX INDIANS. n of country lyins? on the gulf of St. Lawrence, and istwanl of the Sajruena as 11(1, is generally kn'iwn un- abrador. It is an exeeed- ilate region, and, excepting ag hamlet, or a missionary to the Moravians, its only dians. Of these the most le Red Indians (now almost ng Indians, the Milk-maks, IX. The latter are by far i, and it is said that their > to the coasts of Hudson's ; the same time the wildest abitants of this wilderness, ;, as well as manners and semble the inhabitants of f my nautical expeditions vronce," says a celebrated :ed to be wind-bound for a the mouth of a nameless shore, where I happened to ment of E8(]uimaux Indians, n of the party was exceed- only one who could convey ly other language than his gled much with the French orth, and the French fisher- d possessed a smattering of ited by the side of this good Ige, with a moose-skin for ' miscellaneous furs to lean ie sea-oil torch suspended ESQUIMAUX INDIANS. 21.1 ovof my >iB«d, T spent many honni of one long- to-be-remembercd night m questioning him I'Miut his jieopln. Tne substance of the in- fiinriution I then collectfil, it is now my pur- ji.we to re(!ord! but it shoulil lie remembered tliat I speak of the nation at lorge, and not of any particular tribe. " According to my informant the extent of the K«piimaux nation is unknown, for they onsidcr theinti-lves as numerous as the woves of the sea. Much has lieen on1i«;ht. Some hours after, ilar nalt at Brescia, another h in magnificent edifices and , the centre of a fertile prov- sunrise, our rood lay for many margin of a beautiful lake, Benacus, now the Lac de ■ea studded with pretty vil- we reached Verona, situated r the Adige, over which river beautiful bridges. This city, I the imagination from its as* • Romeo and Juliet" and the en of Verona," possesses, in ne of the most perfect and re- 1 relics to be found in all Italy. amphitheatre of Verona is, interior structure, almost ex- s, when, nearly eighteen hun- , twenty thousand Romans, arble benches, watched with gladiatorial combats in the ?ne exterior circumference of al edifice is fourteen hundred feet; the height of the cornice f the street, one hundred feet. 8 of seats, forty-five in num- i the arena to tne level of the temal arches — of which only le seventy-two that, arranged originally formed the faj:ade ucture. two hours at Verona barely sit to the amphitheatre, after and resumed our places in the was near sunset when we a, a city of palaces, the en- ils of opulence and splendor ted. Vicenza was the birth- jlebrated architect Palladio, his native city with magnifi- hich in any other land than ict crowds of admiring pilgrims 8. I walked awhile ihrough eserted streets, gazing at the ;cture, which seemed still more te imagination from being thus isted with the air of desolation a gentleman and lady, the >cleric(il dress, took places in nd I soon had occasion to con- A VISIT TO VENICE. 219 gratulate myself on this accession to our party. My previous companions had been very cour- teous in their manners, but, as they spoke only Italian, our verbal intercourse had been very limited. This they probably intimated to the new-comer, for he soon addressed himself to me in French, and finding that I was a pilgrim from a land so distant, entered into a very in- teresting conversation in regard to the most remarkable objects to be sought after in Italy. Rarely have t met with more courtesy and politeness than this stranger manifested. My difficulty in understanding the French when spoken, only served to display the more per- fectly a degree of patience and urbanity on his part, which, I greatly fear, a foreigner, situated as I was in Italy, would rarely find in our own country. He was evidently a man of superior intellect, as well as polished man- ners; and I have since conjectured that he might be a professor in the university at Padua. At length, it being now dark, our conversation declined, fatigue overpowered me, and I fell asleep. When I awoke, I found myself alone —the sole occupant of the diligence, which was no longer in motion. I looked out of the window; the moon was shining on the high walls of a vast edifice, enclosing the paved courtyard in which I thus unexpectedly found myself; the horses had been taken away — not a human being was in sight — all around was quiet and solitary. Scarcely yet restored to full consciousness. I got out of the diligence, and, passing under an arched gateway at one comer of the court, came out into the open street. Here the first object that met my eve was a magnificent palace of white marble, with a faf ade of perfect Grecian architecture, beautiful Corinthian pillars sustaining the ex- tensive portico, on which the moon was shed- dingher softest radiance— presenting altogether such a scene as fancy conjures up in our dreams. I looked at my watch : it was near midnight. Ascending the broad flight of steps, I entered a vast and sumptuous hall, rich in marble, brilliantly lighted up. but perfectly empty. Beyond this was another equally spacious hall, similar in appearance, and lighted like the first; here were a few persons seated at small tables, and in one corner a sort of bar, or stand for refreshments. This last savored of reality ; I approached and uttered the word "doc- colata ;" this word broke the spell, and the enchanted palace seemed transformed almost to a caf6, when an attendant placed on a mar- ble table a small metolli: pitcher of chocolate, and some light cake. But what could this vast and magtiificent palace be ? And why should its halls be so brilliantly lighted at that dead hour of night ? The mystery was not solved till some days after, when, returning from Venice, I found this same palace, at the 1^ hour of two in the morning, open and lighted as before. The place was Padua, so cele- brated for its university ; and this magnificent cafe (for such it was, though unrivalled in size), is sustained by the special potronago of the students, who occupy the rooms above, and for whose accommodation, as well as that of the travellers who pass this way, to and from Venice, at all hours, it is kept open uid lighted all night. Leaving Padua, I had the whole interior of the diligence to myselfi nml soon fell asleep. An hour after, I awoke, looked out on the road. It lay on the bank of a canal, extending throu§;h a country perfectly level. On the opposite side of the road from the canal, the soft moonlight fell on a long succession of palaces — the country residences of the ancient nobility of Venice, each with a benntiftil gar- den in front, and adorned with a profusion of statues, some placed on the tops of the princi- pal edifice, others ranged along the garden walls, or disposed among the shrubbery. The great number of these statues astonished me, and as the bright moonlight fell on them, ex- hibiting their various attitudes, some, with the deep blue sky for the background, and others on the walls, so near that the expres- sion of the face vras distinctly visible, there was a loveliness and enchantment about the scene altogether unique. The diligence drove rapidly along, and still the same prospect con- tinued for miles. Sleep again overpowered me, and when I next woke the palaces had disappeared, and the perfectly level road, straight as an ar»ow, was in view for a long distance ahead. At 3 o'clock in the morning, we arrived at a small town (Mestre) at the termination of the main land, where we left the diligence, and went on hoard a gondola for Venice, distant now but seven miles. This going out to sea in quest of a city, was some- thing new. We soon left the narrow canal for the open water, and when the eastern sky was tinged with the first ruddy hues of morn- ing, the domes of Venice were in full view, the city seeming to rise out of the sea. I shall never forget that view of Venice, with the crimson sky for the background, arid the exulting feeling when I found myself in the vicinity of this " ultima thule" of my wander- ings — at least in this direction. At a police station, built on piles in the wa- ter, our passports were examined. Soon after, we entered the grand canal, the Broadway of Venice, lined with ancient nnd magnificent palaces. At the posta, the miiils were dis- charged, the conductcur and other passengers landed, leaving only myself and two young Spaniards, who had come from Milan in the " rotonde" of the diligence, and who had m view the hotel whir.h I had selected. It was riri 220 A VISIT TO VKNICB. Bituater] near the tennination of the grand canal, where it opens into the broader channel on the southeastern side of the city ; tV > sun was just rising, as we stepped frona th "gondola upon its stone staircase projecting into the water. There were but two rooms unoccupied in the house, neither of them very inviting in appearance ; I took possession for the time of the one assigned me, closed the blinds, went to bed, and slept four hours. I rose at ten o'clock perfectly refreshed, took breakfast, and set off in quest of better lodgings, which I f^n secured at the hotel d'ltalia. Having in- trusted my passport to the conamiusionaire, I next repaired to the posta (postoflice) and there, to my great satisfaction, secured a seat in a diligence which, after three days, would set off for Bologna and Florence. This done, my mind was free from all solicitude ; 1 had notWng to do for three days, but to see and enjoy as much of Venice as possible. I strolled through its narrow streets — so narrow that with extended hands you can touch the walls on each side — and soon found my way to the grand centre of resort, the Piazza di San Margo. This is a spacious ojpen square, hav- ing on one side the church of St. Mark, and on the other three sides three magnificent palaces, united at the angles, and thus forming a complete enclosure. The basements of these palaces present in front an unbroken series of arcade?, occupied with numerous cafis and shops, atlbrding a most delightful shelter for the crowds that daily assemble there. Under these arcades there are also, at intervals, pas- sages to the streets in the rear. On tlie side of the square near the church, is the splendid Umr de I'horloge (clock-tower) rich in mar- ble and gilding. Two statues in bronze are conspicuous on ito top, and by au in;,enious Siece of mechanism, these figures, called " the loors," are seen to elevate their arms and strike the Iwurs. This they do in a style quite like life. The glorious old church of St. Mark, so intimately associated with every thought of Venice, is not easily described. It was begun A. I). 976. and completed in 1071. How strange do these dates sound in Ameiican ears! How indesoribnble are the feelings of a pilgrim from the new world, when he finds himself on the threshold of that grand and time-honored edifice, and feels that he is indeed in Venice, and amid the monuments of a national history even more remarkable than that of Rome ! A handful of exiles, driven by despair to take ref- uge on a narrow strip of barren sand, lay there the foundations of a mighty empire; without vegetation, without drinkable water, without building materials, almost without soil on which to build, they ' ect a city in the midst of the waves of the sea. This state without a territory, this city floating as it were on the Adriatic, strong only in the indomitable enter- prise and invincible courage of its inhabitants, attracts to itself the commerce of the world, sways the sceptre of the seas, itself a republic, gives laws to proud emiiires, and grown now to colossal size, overshadowing the nations, fills the measure of its fame by that splendor in the fine arts, which to this day remains, alas! the only relic of its ancient glory. Such is the history of Venice, from its origin aliout the middle of the fifth century, to the extinc- tion of iu independence in 1796. Some idea of the sumjrtuous architecture of the church of St. Mark may be formed from the fact that the nunibcr of pillars of marble, porphyry, verd-anticine, etc., within and without, is not less than 500. Bronze, gold, and mosaics, everywhere meet the eye. Just in front of the principal entrance, the spot where the reconciliation took place in 1177 between Pope Alexander III. and the emperor Frederick Barbarossa, is indicated by some pieces of red marble in the pavement. Close to the church stanils the doge's pal- ace, an edifice as grard and imposing in its architecture, as it is interesting in its historical associations. It occupies one side of the piaz- zetla, a small square, which extends from one angle of the place of St. Mark to the water, the two quadrangles together resembling in shape the letter L. This palace was built near the middle of the fourteenth century, when Marino Faliero was doge of Venice. Entering the principal gate, and crossing the interior court, you ascend the celebrated giant staircase, so called from its being ornamented with two semi-colossal statues of Mars and Neptune — emblems of tht military and naval power of the republic. Just at the head of this staircase the doges were crowned, ai:d this same spot, Byron, following tradition, has represented as the scene of the execution of Marino Faliero. The doge's palace is preeminently the place to which the stranger must resort in order to feel the full inapression of the past— whose memorials here surround him. Its vast snd numerous halls are filled with historiciil paint- ings, picturing to the eye all those scenes and transactions which are "associated with Vene- tian glorv'. In one of these is a series of geographical paintings, delineating the different countries discovered and visited by the Vene- tians, in the proudest days of the republic. Of the numerous pictures in the different halls, those interested me most which most vividly depict her ancient power and splendor; such, for instance, as that of the doge Cicogna, re- ceiving the Persian ambassadors — Pope Alex- ander III. advancing to meet the doge Se- bastien Ziani, returning from his victory over 1? I I is city flontinff as it were on the g only in the indomifable enter- icible courage of its inhnbitnnts, slf the commerce of the world, jtre of the seas, itself a republic, proud cmjiircs, and prown now '.e, oversihadowing the nations, ire of its fame by that splendor ts, which to this day remains, relic of its ancient glory. Such of Venice, from its origin about the fifth century, to the extinc- jpendence in 1796. of the sumptuous architecture J of St. Mark may be formed that the number of pillars of [ivry, verd-anti([ne, etc., within is not less than 500. Bronze, laics, everywhere meet the eye. if the princii)al entrance, the spot conciliation took place in 1177 ! Alexander III. and the emperor irbarossa, is indicated by some marble in the pavement. e church stands the doge's pal- e as grard and imposing in its as it is interesting in its historical It occupies one side of the piaz- siiuare, which extends from one place of St. Murk to the water, jraugles together resembling in tter L. T^is palace was built Idle of the fourteenth century, Faliero was doge of Venice, principal gate, and crossing the :, you ascend the celebrated giant called from its being ornamented mi-colossal statues of Mars and nblems of the military and naval 3 republic. Just at the head of 3 the doges were crowned, aud jt, Byron, following tradition, has M the scene of the execution of ;ro. 8 palace is preeminently the place stranger must resort in order to impression of the past — whose sre surround him. Its vast snd ills are filled with historical paint- ig to the eye all those scenes and which are associated with Vene- In one of these is a series of , paintings, delineatingthc ditferent covered and visited by the V^ene- > proudest days of the republic, rous pictures in the different halls, ited me most which most vividly ncient power and splendor ; such, , as that of the doge Cicogna, re- 'ersian ambassadors — Pope Alex- idvancjng to meet the doge Se- li, returning from his victory over A VISIT TO VENICE. 221 Frederick Barbarossa — the pop^- presenting a sword to the doge, as he embarks — the return of a doge after his victory over the Genoese —the doge Henry Dandolo (who, at, the age of 97 years, and blind, led the Venetians to the capture of the ancient Byzantium) crown- ing the emperor Bnldovino at Constantinople the doge, surrounded by his council, re- cinving the deputations of cities otrcring them- selves as voluntary subjects of the republic — imtnnrous battles of the Venetians, etc. To gu/.c on these paintings, most of them the works of great masters — to feel that you are standing on the very spot where many of those memorable scenes occurred — to lo^k out from the windows of the palace on the mole where the embarkation depicted on the canvass took place — to ropeople in imaginatitm the quiet squares beneath you, where in the heat of the day but a few loungers are seen, with those exulting throngs that crowded. in past ages to these grand demonstrations of Venetian glory — these are things that tak^ powerful possession of the soul, and cause it indeed to live in the past. Never before had I so felt the power of historical painting. The portraits of one hundred and fifteen doges extend along the upper part of more than one hall. In the place where should have been that of Marino Faliero, is this inscription I on a black ground — " Hie «st locus Marini Fidierii decapitati pro criininibus." The ef- fect of this is most impressive. On the place of St. Mark stand three lofty flag-staffs, resting on richly ornamented pedes- tals of bronze. From these were once dis- played the standards of the republic, indicating her dominion over Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea. The campanile, or tower of St. Mark, is an isolated square tower near the church. From the top of it I gazed with no common delight on the beautiful city below, the neighboring islands, the blue waters of the Adriatic, and the distant mountains of the Tyrol. When this glorious panorama was spread out before me, beneath that cloudless sky, I felt sure that no city in Italy, no one m the world, could rival the perfect enchantment which its •cenery and its history impart to Venice. The contrast between the past glory and present decay of this renowned city is exceed- ingly imoressive. Yet, politically and com- mercially unimportant as she now is, there are many things which to the stranger mate- rially diminish the painful sensations which such a contrast is fitted to produce. The en- during glories of architecture, statuary, and painting, still remain, though the sceptre of pt>wer and pride has departed from Venice. There appear to be, also, far more industry and general comfort here, than in most of the other Italian cities. Not only are the crowds that congregate in the evenings at the pinz/a and piazzetta, well dressed and genteel in ap- pearance, but the lower class generally appear in better circumstances than elsewhere in Italy. As there were no excursions to be made out of the city, three busy days sufiicrd for very extensive rambling through its narrow streets, as well us for repeated visits to the olijects iif greatest interest. A connoisseur in the (ino arts would indeed wish to spend weeks or months here, but for those who are not so, it is perhaps the best policy to compress in as small compass as possible the pleasure of visit- ing such scene? J to leave them bofoie they have even begun to pall on the sense. To me, Venice will ever be rnchanfed ground, and the glimpse I had of its glories, Ijrief as it was, yet sufficient for vivid impression and enduring remembrance, was a chapter of the purest poetry of life. It might have degen- erated into prose, had I stayed long enough to associate it chiefly with every-dav occurrences and commonplace companions. It so happen- ed that here I was absolutely without ncijuaint- ances, and except at the table d'hote of the hotel, had little occasion to hold intercourse with any one ; and I was precisely in that mood of'mind in which this circumstance was most delightful. The objects around me were eloquent, and I would on no account have had the effect of their eloquence frittered away by ordinary chit-chat. The gorgeous architecture of those time-honored palaces and ternples, and the memory of the stirring events with which many of them are associated, furnished in- exhaustible food for that delicious revery, to which the voluptuous softness of the air, and the repose of all nature beneath that cloudless sky, seemed of themselves to invite. Venice is built on about seventy small islands, separated from each other by a great number of canals. The number of'^ bridges crossing these canals is said to be three hundred and six. Even in Amsterdam there are wde streets traversed by light vehicles, and, since the opening of the railway, by one or two omnibuses ; but in Venice, not a horse or car- riage of any kind is to be seen ; the narrow streets, and the bridges, often at an elevation reached by stone steps, are adapted exclusively to pedestrians. Besides the spacious squares (the piazza and piazzetta), adjoiiiing each other, near the church of St. Mark, there are few public places large enough for general re- sort, and accordingly, these constitute the chief promenade. The grand canal, far exceeding the rest in width, winds its serpentine way through the city, dividing it into unc(|ual parts. There is but one bridge o\er it, the celebrated Rialto, l%- JB r: s lip 322 A VISIT TO VENICE. which thus connects the two groups of islands on which the city is built. A double range of shops extends over this bridge, dividing it intij three parallel streets, generally filled with a gay and laughing throng. The Rialto makes also a fine appearance from the water, being built of stone, and spanning the canal by a single high arch, beneath which the black gondolas are passing and repassing continually. The churoiies of Venice are magnificent m architecture and sumptuous in their decora- tions, enclosing a great number of paintings by the first masters, and many of thetn con- taining vast sepulchral monuments of most elabor ite sculpture, in memory of the doges aiid distinguished nobility of former years. Those erected in honor of distinguished artists are Frari, I paused for a long time at the monu ment to Canova, erected in 1827. Its magnifi- cent sculpture is the result of the labors of seven of the most distinguished living Venetian artists, after a model designed by Canova him- self for a sepulchral monument to Titian, who lies interred in the same church, and to whom a monument, just opposite to Canova's, is not yet completed. That to Canova is a pyramid of white marble, with exquisitely sculptured mourning igures ranged on steps leading to a door, representing the opening to a sepulchre. An account cf the last hours of Canova which I had read some years previous, made my visit to his tomb exceedingly interesting. I thought of him an one whose love for the beautiful had not been limited to material forms — whose soul ha a» the wife of his love is ex- tituile of Joseph, and the infant he nurse— make up a scene in- uching. bus ride after dinner was not to lice, I l(K)h, as nn excellent snb- M cxcurswu in a gi/ndola. Set- he pluce (jf St. Mark, the gon- ded leisurely olon^' the canal, le to admire the palaces on its some distance beyond the ponte a of the numerous canals ojjen- ght, we passed through to the ■on the northern side of the city. I netting when we reached this tie view was roost enchanting, he arsenal, whose strong walls, wers, enclose a space nearly two mferencc, I stopped afewmmutes gardens. When I left the gon- moon was shining on one of the ics that can well be imagined, f St. Mark, and the adjoining fronts on the broad channel, were ith promenaders. Hundreds of it of the cafes were occupied by idies and gentlemen, refreshing nth ices and lemonade, and occa- laded by musicians of both sexes, leir song was ended, collected a bute from the audience. In one I took up a Paris newspaper Bed at some length the question, e the next president of the United eemed strange to read of " Mon- :er de Boston," and "Monsieur itucky," under the Bhadow of the .' at Venice. viug evening was the last of my ight o'clock it was necessary for the posta. In com[)liance with ;qtiisition, my baggage had been )urs before, I had settled my bill , and received the courteous fare- landlord, whose English " good- very kindly sound, when supcr- n bis customary French. e, and for the Inst time, I stoodin and yielded to the full inspiration '. and the hour. Every beautiful more beautiful beneath the moon- o heighten the enchantment of the land of music connected wth the irrison, numbering at least eighty vith a great, variety of instruments, lollow s(pinre in the place of St. gave a magnificent serenade. To )8e strains ui»der the shadow of the VEOKTABLB CUKIOSITIES. 223 church of St. Mark and the doge's palace, | wusaUme sufficient to compensate a pilgrimage ^ to that distant city. Reluctantly I tore my- [ self away from this enchanted ground, ami , hastened to the posta, where 1 arrived just in tim«. The mail-boat, which waits for no one, j had received nearly all its passengers, and two ' minutes after I stejjped on board we were in motion. Thus I parted from Venice. But there is, indeed, *' no farewell" to such scenes. Neither | Florence, in tlio beautiful and classic vale of the Arm,, nor smiling Naples, with its un- rivalled bay, nor Rome itself, with all its solemn grandeur, distinct and vivid as they are in recollection, has power at all to dimin- ish the charm which memory throws around thai unique and most lovely city, whose moon- light scenery still mingles with the most deli- cious of my waking dreams. — Rex. VV. C. Dana. VEGETABLE CURIOSITIES. The vegetable kingdom has often supplied the natural theologist, with the most striking and forcible of his illustrations, in proof of the lavish goodness of the Creator. He has sien in its varied productions, the cxhuustl^tiS skill of the All-creative hand ; in the adapta- tion to the wants and necessities of man, his wisdom ; and in the gratifications they i>resent to his eye, and to his taste, the clear evidence, that, while utility has been amply regarded, the enjoyment of the crenture has been c<|ually remembered, and abundantly provided for. With the most of the utilitarian products of this kingdom, we are sufficiently familiar ; but with regard to its more exciuisite gifts, we believe a good deal of ignorance to prevail, which it will be our endeavor, though imper- fectly, to dissipate. The Rev. Dr. Walsh, in a paper upon plants, growing in the neighborhood of Con- stantinople, contained in the " Horticultural Transactions," speaks in an interesting man- ner, of several of the gourd tribe, which grow luxuriantly in that district. One of the curious varieties was the cucurbita davifor- mis, or " Jonah's gourd," which is believed to be really that plant, which was caused to grow up over tho head of the prophet in a single night. It forms a beautiful dense ar- bor, through which the rays of even the east- ern sun arc unable to penetrate ; under its shade the Easterns delight to smoke ; while overhead, the singular fruit of the plant hangs down in long, delicate, tempting clubs, somewhat like very stout candles. The fruit is not eaten in the uncooked state ; but the central part being scooped out, it is filled with forcemeat, and boiled, forming a very delicate and rclishable repast. Another remarkable gourd ic the •' Turk's turban," the cucurbita ridariformis ; in form, it is like a Inr 'c (piince placeu (m the top of a large melon, i as bear- nii; a pretty close resemblance to a turban. Tlie history of its origin is curious, and more " wonderful than true," as we fear. A gourd was planted in Cum]>ania, near a quince, and an atI(!Ction apporently s|)ringing up between the two, the gourd came to the conclusion of adopting the form of the quince, in addition to its own glossy rotundity, and the result was the form wo have just noticed. It is used as an excellent addition to soups. Another spe- cies is the white, or cucurbita j)epo ; this is found in the markets principally m the winter, and is commonly piled up in heaps, like can- non-balls, or more like pyramids of snow- bulls. Romantic associations attach to this chaste production ; it is presented at every native marriage ceremony to the married pair, and is supposed to insure peace and prosperity to them and to their house. The momordica elaUrium, a member of the same family, is otherwise known as the " ss in a remarkable manner an odor the most disgusting and offensive — creoting an al- most insuperable aversion to the fruit — with a very rich and delicate taste. The tree is de- scribed as being something like a i)ear-tree ; the fruit externally resembles that of the " bread-fruit" tree, the outside being covered with tubercles. AVhen ripe, it contains sev- eral cells, in each of which is a large seed of the size of a pigeon's egg, imbedded in a rich pulp. The taste is very curious, and hns been compared to a dish commonly known in S|)ain, under the name of " mangiar Man," composed of hen's flesh dressed in vinegar. The fruit really appears to portake more of an animal than vegetable nature, and never becomes sickly or closing. The natives are passion- ately fond of it, and when it is to ba procured, live almost wholly on its luxurious cream-like flesh. It is said soon to turn putrid. One durian is worth more than a dozen pine-apples. The rose-apples of the East, have long been ^^^^5^SI * thot nnfiirp pv^ents tlip inlinlii- (III, with t]\''. I Ac\i' rcnily ri)ri. fruit is nolle. 1 he " miirriinludf; iMit the size <-'" a large npple, nnd h down. At first it is srcm, » it become* brown, nnd flicn ves like o walnut; tin- imlp is color, very sweet nnd teni|ilini», Y the nutivc!. with r'je larredlest Brazilians boast also of a deli- e muructtja, said to be unsur- [ranee nnd flavor, p>sses!«inp[ a •p yellow, and exhalinp a .Ine Yet it Hiust yield to the far- 9tin of the Indian archipelago. » pnnlnction is universally es- 1 alike agreeable to strangers as int8 of its native country, whose 1 shape and size it is like a niid- it has a thick purplish rind, ids three or four cloves of snow- ivhich almost immediately dis- lavor is extremely rich, yet nev- or palls on the taste; and the eaten almost ad libitum. Dr. that an intelligent traveller and ns, were anxious to bring away imo precise expression of its fla- sotisfying themselves that it par- impound tasle of the pine-npple :h, they were obliged, after of es of tastings, to confess that it ler e([nally delicious, but utterly flavors. Not only is it grateful and hearty, but even to the sick, ; it with impunity ; and, as if to of its good attributes, it is reloted inder was cured of putrid fever A more singular, and nt first a ing fruit, is the " durian :" it I remarkable manner an odor the ng and offensive — creating an al- ible aversion to the fruit — with a I delicate taste. The tree is de- »ing something like a pear-tree ; iternally resembles that of the " tree, the outside being eovereJ DS. When ripe, it contains sev- each of which is a large seed of pigeon's egg, imbedded in a rich ;astc is very curious, and has been a dish commonly known in Spain, ne of " mangia'r hlan" composed h dressed in vinegar. The fruit rs to partake more of an animol ble nature, and never becomes 1,'ing. The natives are passion- ■"it, and when it is to be jjrocured, vholly on its luxurious cream-like said soon to turn putrid. One rth more than a dozen pine-apples, apples of the East, have long been VBOETABLE CURIOSITIES. 225 J held in esteem, and take a high position among the elegantdelicai-iesof nature. In all res[)cct8, this fruit is u lovely production ; it is borne by a tree called the jambo ; it is about as large as a pear ; externally, it is arrayed ma coat of the most splendid red ; inside, its pulp is ot the loveliest white ; and in perfume and taste it much rcsemliles the r me. Some vaneties of the rose-apple ore so fine, as to be preserved for the king's use alone : a beautiful variety, the jumrosade, is most highly perfumed with rose, while its color is a delicate transporent pink mixed with white. The well-known Kuava, is a fruit belonging to the natural order —the myrtleblooms. One of the chief deli- cacies ot the Indian desert, is the fruit of the mango, the oll'spring of a considerable tree like a walnut. When fresh, it is of an ex- ceedingly delicate, sweet, ond acidulous fla- vor, and foirns pickles and preserves, which are highly esteemed. Some of its vaneties arc us'^large as an infant's head, and exceed two pounds in weight. Sir William Jones, in the " Asiatic Reseorches,'^ mentions a very delicious fruit, known as the malura, which is curious in consequence of its ixjssessing a fro- grance strongly resembling that of the wall- The Chinese horticulture has long been famous for its productions, some of which are very anomalous. Marco Polo says, they have some pears of most gigantic sizes ; pears are at all seasons in the Chinese markets, and some api>ear to have been fattened up to a de- gree of obesity that would do good to the eyes of an agricultural prize-breeder. What would be thought in England, of a pear weighing ten pounds, therefore, somewhat ot the size of a Southdown leg of mutton ! Yet such this industrious traveller affirms as a fact, addin-r that they are white in color, melting, and most fragrant in taste. Other authors mention pears of approximate sizes, some measuring neariy sixteen inches m circumfer- ence the long way, and upward of a foot the round way. Their peaches, too, are equally fine ; many of them are of the most beautiful colors and exquisite flavor, nnd some attain enormous sizes. The Chinese gardeners boast of having produced peaches weighing two pounds ; and it is not for us to doubt their assertion, although we know somewhat of the elasticity of the Chinese conscience. They are also said to be possessed of the valuable secret of preserving fruit gathered in October until the succeeding January, in all its beauty, freshness, and flavor. Among other fruits, the "flat peach," well deserves the title of a horticultural curiosity. It is in all respects like a peach, except that it is flattened out in- to a cake ; this fruit is well knowm at Canton ; itt color is a pale yellow ; when cut into, a beautifdl circle of pink is seen Borrounding the stone, and radiating into a mass of deli- cately-colored pulp. In the indulgence of their dwarfing propensities, they manufacture for such it is, miniature fruit-trees of various kinds, by the methtxl now become familiar to most persons. Large sums are set on the heods of those diminutive trees, in proportion to their ugliness and their abundance of fruit. Venerable old plum-trees, a f(M)t high, laden with fruit, are without a price ; while finger- fruits, marygoes, peaches, rarambolas, and grapes, come in for subordinate attention. The beautiful orange, the " mondorin," (cit- rus nobilis) one of the recent importations into this country, is remarkable for having a deep crimson rind when rific, which is y his elder brother, Louis XIV. The first duke of Orleans was twice married, his second wife being Elizabeth Charlotte, of Bohemia, grand -daughter of James I., of England ; thus connecting the houses of Orleans and Stuart, from the Tatter of whom the queen of England, Victoria, is descended. For many years, Louis Philippe was exiled from France"! travelling in various countries of Europe, and visiting the United States in his exile. While in Switzerland he engaged 08 a teacher in an ocademy for eight months, being then tv. onty years of ago. It is a mis- toke, however, that ho ever taught school in the United States, as is generally 8U|)|x>sed. He arrived in this country in November, 1796, and was joined by his two brothers, the three spending some time with General Wash- ington, at Mount Vernon, by iuvitstion, pre- vious to makii»g a journey tlirough the west- em country. After a tour to the lakes and the falls of Niagara, the princes returned U) Philadelphia, where they residedafewmonths. Having dt.'terniined to join their mother in Spain, the princes determined to go thither by way of New Orleans and Havana. For that purpose they again crossed the mountains of Pittsburg, and descending the Ohio and Mis- sissippi river in a boat, arrived at New Orleans in February, 1798. Being refused a passage to Spain from Havana, whither they went from New Orleans, they sailed to Ne-v York, whence an English i)acket carried them to Falmouth, at which place they arrived in February, 1800. The princes then took up their residence on the banks of the Thames, at Twickenham. They received much atten- tion from the English nobility. They made a voyage to the island of Minorca, a passage being given them in a frigate by the British government; but finding no opportunity of passing thence to Spain, which was then in a convulsed state, they returned to England, and resided for some years at Twickenham. The duke of Orleans nad the misfortnne to lose both his brothers while in exile. The duke of Moiitpensier died in England, in 1807, and his remains were interred in Westminster abbfy. The Count Beaujofois died at Mnl- ta, whith':r his brother accomparied him in 1808. From Malta. Louis Philipjie went to Sicily, and accepteil an invitation from Ferdinand, the king of Sicily, to visit the royal fomily at Palermo. During his residence there, he gained the atfections of the Princess Amelia, tile second daught(!r of the king, and the con- sent of Ferdinand and the duchess of Orleans, who had joined her son in Sicily, their mar. riage took place in November, 1809. By this lady, late queen of the French, Louis Philippe has had eight children, of whom six still sur- vive, viz.: — 1. Louisa, queen f Belgium (wife of Leo- pold), bom 1812. 2. Louis, duke of Nemours, bom 1814, mar- ried Victoria Aumista, of Coburg, cousin of Prince Albert. 3. Maria Clementina, bom 1817, unmarried. 4. Francis, Prince de Joinville, bom 1818, admiral of the French navy, married Francis- ca, a sister of the emperor of Brazil, and of the (lueen of Portugal. •i. Henry, Duke d'Aumale, bora 1822, married to Carolina, cousin of the king of the Two Sicilies. 6. Anthony, duke of M> mtpensier, bom 1824, morried a sister of the ([uecn of Spain. The oldest son of Louis Philippe was Fer- dinand, duke of Orleons, bom 1' 10, killed by jumping from his carriage, July, 1842. He married in 1837, Helena, danehter of the grand-duke of Mecklcnburg-Scnwerin — by whom he had two children, viz., Louis Phil- ippe (count of Paris) born 1838, and now ten years of age, and R(}bert Philippe, duke of Ghartres, bom 1840. At Palermo, Louis Philippe remained after his marriage, until 1814, when on the restora- tion of the Bourbons, he rejiaired to Paris, and was restored to his rank and honors. The retum of Napoleon from Elba, in 1815, broke up his orrangements, find he sent his family to England, where he joined them, and again took up his residence at Twickenham. On the restoration of Louis XVIII., the duke returned to France, in September, 1815, and took his seat in the chamber of peers. The Iwge estates to which he was entitled by inhentance being restored to him, he de- voted his attention princi]>ally to the education of his family. His opulence enabletl him to become the protector of the fine arts, and the patron of letters, and few men in France were more popular during the career of the Bourbons. He was unexpiectedly callet! from private life by the revohition of the three days in Jnly» 1830, when, on the abdication of Charles X., the chamber of deputies offered him the crown, which he accepted on the 9th of August, (lunt neaujofaia dind at MnU brother accuinpai'icd him in Lnuid Philippe wont to Sinily, n invitation from Ferdinand, ly, to visit the royal family at •iiig his residnnco thnrc, he ti()u» of the Princes Amelia, hter of the king, and the con- id and the diieheM of Orleans, her son in Sicily, their mar- in November, 1809. By this of the French, Loiiis Phdippe lildrcn, uf whom six still sur- sen f Belgium (wife of Leo- e of Nemours, bom 1914, mar- ugiista, of Coburg, cousin of nentinn, br)m 1917, unmarried, rince de Joinvillc, bom 1819, rench navy, morried Francis- he emperor of Brazil, and of trtuj^al. >uko d'Aumole, bom 1922, ilina, cousin of the king of the nkeof M.mtpcn8ier,bom 1824, of the queen of Spain, in of Louis Philippe was Fer- Orleans, bom 1' 10, killed by lis cnrriiige, July, 1842. He 17, Helena, dauehter of the Mecklcnburg-Scli werin — by vo children, viz., Louis Phil- i*aris) born 1938, and now ten id Robert Philippe, duke of 1940. Louis Philii)pe remained after itil 1814, when on the restora- bons, he rej)aired to Paris, and J his rank and honors. The eon from Elba, in 1815, broke [lenta, nnd he sent his family ere he joined them, and again dence at Twickenham, •ration of Louis XVIII., the o France, in September, 1815, eat in the chambf' of peers, tes to which he was entitled being restored to him, he de- ion princi|»ally to the edui'iition His opulence enabTetl him to lector of the fine arts, and the S and few men in France were iring the career of the Bourbons, sctedly called from private life an of the three days in JulVt the abdication of Charles X., deputies offered him the crown, jptcd on the 9th of August, MBUOia OF LOUIS PHILIPFB. 827 18.10, and adopted the stylo and title of Louit Philippe, kinff of thf. Frtnch. The ex-king was a handsome man when young ; hi^ frame is now bulky, but there is much case in his manners. He is ready in conversation, and was always remarkable afla- ble to all. Besules the young count of Pans, grandson to the ex-king, there are two other claimants to the FrenrJi throne at this time, namely : first, the young duke of Bordeaux, son of tlie Duke de Herri, and grandson to the late kinp, Charies X., who was the elder branch of the Bourl)on fuinilv. and brother of Louis XVI. and Louis XVIII. Charies X., it will be recollected, was deposed in 1830. Second, Louis Napoleon, son of the late Louis Bonaparte, who was for awhile king of Holland. The mother of this prince was Hort'-usc, daughter of Josephine, first wife of the Emperor Napoleon. The claims of neither of these two princes seem to be worth much now; the only chance, if a republic be not permanently established, is probably for the young count of Paris, under the regency -A his mother, the duchess of Orieans, who is now thirty-four years of age. In connexion with the preceding article we present our readers with some very interesting details respecting the flight of the ex-king and queen of the French, and their safe arrivol and scjoum at Newhaven, England. The ac- companying engravings were made by artists on the spot, and may be depended upon for cotrectness. A farmer procured dis^ises for the royal party previously to leaving the chateau at Dreux, the king habiting himself in an old cloak and cap, having first shaved his whis- kers, discarded his wig, and altogether dis- guised himself so as to defy recognition. Long before daylight, they started on they way to La Ferte Vidame: taking the road of Evreux, twelve to fifteen leagues from Honfleur. They travelled chiefly by night, and reached Hon- fleur at five o'clock on Saturday morning. They remained at Honfleur, in the house of a gentleman whom the king knew, for a short tinae, and then crossed to Tronville, a short distance from the town. It was their inten- tion to embark at Tronville, but owing to the boisterous state of the weather they were com- pelled to remain at the latter place two days, when finding they could not set sail, they re- turned to Honfleur, with the intention of em- barking at that place ; but the sea still (con- tinued very rough, and the king fearing that the queen in her exhausted condition would be unable to bear the fati^e of a rough passage, deferred his departure till the weather changed on Thursday. In the meantime information 1 was secretly conveyed to the express, South- ampton steam-packet, that they would be ro- (|uircd to take a party from Havre In England. On Thursday iftenuHMi, the gentleman who sheltered the dethroned monarch ond his con- sort at Honfleur, engaged a Fren.h fishing- boat to convey the party from Honfleui to Havre ; and, fearing that in his small vessel the features of the king might be recogtiised, the gentlemon engaged an interpreter to inter- pret Fn^nch to the king, who, to render his disguise more complete, passed as un English- man. Nothing of moment transpired on the passage to Havre where the exjiress wiis wait- ing with her steam up ; and at nine o'clock on Thursday evening, the royal fugitives and suite set sail for England. A little before seven on Friday morning, the express steamer arrived off' Newhaven harbor. Here she lay to, and her command- er. Captain Paul, pulled off for shore in a boat wth General Dumas, who proceeded to the bridge inn, to bespeak accommodation for the voyagers. Having made due arrange- ments, he started for London, leaving the hostess in perfect ignorance as to the lank of her expected guests. The captain returned to his ship shortly after. About eleven o'clock a boat pulled up ..o the shore, containing un elderiy gentleman attired in an old green blouse and travelling-cap, and a rough great coat ; a lady of similar age, plainly dressed in a black bonnet, and checked bluck and white cloak, attended by a young femole ; and three other persons. The royal party having landed, were con- ducted by Mr. Sims the distance of two hun- dred yards, where a fly was in waiting, into which the king and queen, with the female attendant, had 8tep|»ed, and were about to proceed, when Mr. Sims involuntarily betray- ed his recognition, and exclaimed " Welcome to England, King Louis Philippe ! welcome, welcome The party were then conducted by Mr. Sims to the "Bridge Inn, where every prepara- tion had been made by Mrs. Smitb to secure the comfort of her anticipated but unknovra guests. The truth, however, was immediate- ly disclosed, and the worthy hostess, her daughter and assistants, comfirmed the wel- come which had already been pronounced, and conducted the royal exiles up- stairs. On reaching their apartment, the emotions of the worn-out and harassed travellers overpowered them, and found vent in a flood of tears. The accommodations of the Bridge Inn are not so limited as has been stated. The royal party, which consisted of seven persons, oc- cupied two sitting and six bed-rooms, inde- pendent of a large room sixty feet in length which was appropriated to the attendants. The sitting-room occupied by their majesties w wm I I*' The Bridge Hotel, Newhtven. about twenty feet long by fifteen wide, having a large bow window, affording additional space. Tiie news of the royal arrival soon spread among the i«ihabitant». Immediately on re- cciviiic; the intelligence, Mr. Catt, of Bishop- stone (who bad the honor of an introduction to Louis Philippe at the Chateflu d'Eu some two years ago), repaired to the Bridge Inn. The king at once recognised Mr. Catt, and received his congratulations on his escape with much emotion, shaking hands with him with great empressement, and expressing the most undisguised pleasure at meeting with him. In the course of conversation the ex-king ex- claimed, " Ah, Mr. Catt, we have had a fear- ful time of it We have been eight days in flight, and huve been, it may be said, within two hours of liting murdered. But, thank God, here we are safe on vour hospitable shores." He also added, "It is not the first time, Mr. Catt, that I have experienced the ^onerous hospitality of England. I am always proud to come to' England." On Mr. Catt prollering the use of his house, Louis Philippe declined the otFer, expressing his thanks, but observing, " The gwKl people of the inn have done everythinij to render us comfortable, and we shall do extremely well." Mr. Elphick and Mr. Cole had, in a like spirit, both volun- teered to place their residences at the disposal of the king and suite. The royal party comprised, in addition to the king and queen, a female German attend- ant on her majesty, a confidential valet, a pri- vate secretary (M. Pauline, qfficier d'ordon. nance), and two other gentlemen. Consider- able secrecy was at first observed as to the names and rank of the retinue, who, however, have since proved to be Generals Dumas and Rumigny, M. Thuret, the king's orivate valet, and Mdle. Muser, attendant on the queen. _We omitted to state that in the mterview with Mr. Catt, his majesty inquired for Mr. Packham, and finding that he was at Brighton, expressed his joy that he waa safe in England, and his wish that he should be sent for, which waa accordingly complied with. One of the first steps taken by Louis Philippe after his arrival at the inn was to write a letter to her majesty Queen Victoria, which he in- trusted to Mr. Irons (the active secretary of the Brighton railway and continental steam- packet company), who had waited on him, and offered, on behalf of the company, every facility of transit. Mr. Irons immediat.-ly started on his mission: leaving directions in passing through Lewes, that a special train should be sent down to Newhaven, to be placed at the disposal of the royal exiles. In the course of the morning, several of tha inhabitants at Newhaven paid th'^ir resper-ta to his majesty, and offered their services ll various ways. On Mr. Packham's arrival, he was charged to proceed to Brighton, in order there to repair the deficiencies of the royal wardrobe ; " for," said the ex-monafch pithily Mi [itial valet, a prt- ojpcier d'oraori' men. Consider- served as to the % who, however, >ral8 Dumas and g'fl private valet, an tne nueen. in the interview inquired for Mr. was at Briphton, safe in England, e sent for, which th. y Louis Philippe 9 to write a letter ia, which he in- ive secretary of ntinental steam- waited on him, company, every ans immediat ly ing directions in t a special train ewhaven, to be royal exiles, ig, several of the id th"iir respect! their services Im ham's arrival, he righton, in order des of the royal -monarch pithily J iM M *l 230 MEMOIR OF LOUIS PHILIPPE. to Mr. Pankliam, "we are very short of clothes." The king also handed over to him several hags of silver coin, for the purpose of gcttin? it changed into English money. In the course of the afteniofin the editor of the Sussex Advertiser was honored with a I>rivate interview with Louis Philippe and his august consort. " We found," says the editor, in his journal of Tuesday, "Louis Philippe dressed plainly in black, without his wig, Olid looking cheerful and refreshed. The queen, however (who was sitting at a side tnble), appeared much worn and fatigued. The ex-kins: intimated his wish that the names of his attendants should not transpire, observ- ing how desirous he was not to compromise in the eyes of their countrymen those faithful friends who had exposed themselves to danger for his sake in the hour of peril and need. In this feeling the queen shared. " In alluding to recent events, his majesty pointedly disclaimed any feelings of animosity or resentment against those who had helped to hurl him from the lofty position he had lately wcupied. His observations on this point were made with a calm and dignified composure of voice and manner, which certain- ly gave the strongest impress of sincerity and truth. Without attempting to exculpate either one party or the other, it may be truly said that, had a far different tone pervaded the ob- servations of the dethroned monarch, the mo- ment and the occasion might well have been pleaded in excuse. During this most interest- ing interview, there were no other persons preseiit save General Rumigny. It was an interview not easily to be forgotten." During the afternoon, several gentlemen had the honor of an interview ; among others, G. Molineux, Esq., and the Rev. Dr. Gary, of Lewes. On learning the name of the fonner, the ex-king, after replying to that gentleman's congratulations on his safe arrival, observed that " he well remembered that name of Mr. Molineux, when at Lewes many years ago." Soon after this, a special tram arrived at Newhaven, conveying the Hon. Captain Hotham (one of the directors), who immedi- ately had an interview with Louis Philippe, and despatched for town a letter Queen Amelia hail written to Queen Victoria. The royal party then resolved not to quit Newhaven until next day. Toward eight o'clock, General Dnmas ar- rived at the An from the town, accompanied by Count de Jarnac, of the French embassy, who had an interview with the king. At a later hour, Mr. Irons returned from London, having delivered his despatch to Prince Albert, and being charged with a private message from her majesty, through Prince Albert, for the exiled monarch. On Saturday morning, before eight o'clock, several ladies and gentleman had arrived, anxious to pay their respects to the royal party. Among these were Mr. Lawrence and Lady Jane Peel, and the Rev. T. Cooke, with Miss Augusta Otway, who came from Brighton ; and the Rev. Mr. Brookman and his lady, of Rottingdean. Count Duchatel, minister of the interior, who also arrived from the Bedford hotel, Brighton, had "an audience of his royal master. Large parties likewise arrived from Brighton and Lewes ; and an ddress from the latter place was presented by a deputation, headed by Edward Bhiker, Esq. Toward ten o'clock, a number of ladies had assembled in the large room of the inn, whither the king proceeded to pay his respects. The royal party then prepared to take their de- parture, but their progress down stairs was intercepted at every step by fresh comers. In the passage were stationedf the scholars of the Lewes free grammar-school, on whose behalf the Rev. Dr. Cary (principal) presented two addresses, one in Latin and the other in French, bearing the signatures of the pupils. His majesty received these marks of youthful attachment and sympathy most graciouslj', and having placed himself in front of his young auditors, addressed a few sentences to them expressive of his appreciation of the feeling which had prompted them to approach him', and assuring them he would read and retain the addresses they had presented to him in his misfortunes. This concluded, the signal for departure was given, and the king, assisted by the Count de Jamac, and her majesty, con- ducted by the honorable Captain Hotham, and followed by Generals Dumas, and Rumigny, M. Pauline, M. Thuret, and Mdle. Muser, descended the stairs as quickly as the crowd permitted. Just before leaving, the king em- phatically conveyed his thanks to Mrs. Smith, the landlady ; and the queen, who had been attended by Miss Skinner and Miss F. Stone, of Newhaven, embraced them, thanking them for their attention ; the king shaking hands with them, and adding his earnest thanks. The royal party then proceeded to the rail- way station, and at eleven the train took its departure. At quarter past twelve the train reached the Croydon station, where they were joined by the duke and duchess of Ne- mours, and thence the royal party proceedpd oy carriage to Claremout, where tiey at present remain. The town of Newhaven lies on the Sussex coast, seven miles south from Lewes, four miles west of Seaford, and nine east from Brighton. It has a good ridal harbor (the Ouse), capable of great improvement, having considerable natural advantages, and situate midway between Portsmouth and Dover. ire eight o'clock, an had arrived, ct8 to the royul fr. Lawrence and Rev. T. Coolte, who came from '. Brookman and ^qunt DuchAtpl, also arrived from had an audience parties likewise Lewes ; and an was presented by ard Blaker, Esq. ler of ladies had the inn, whither I respects. The 3 take their de- lown stairs was Y fresh comers. I the scholars of hod, on whose icipal) presented ,nd the other in a of the pupils, arks of youthful tiost praciouslj', ront of his young itences to them 1 of the feeling I approach him, read and retain ;ed to him in his i, the signal for e king, assisted er majesty, con- in Hotham, and and Rumigny, Mdle. Muser, 'y as the crowd g, the king em- I to Mrs. Smith, who had been Miss F. Stone, thanking them shaking hands lest thanks, ded to the roil- 3 train took its welve the train I, where they Juchess of Ne- ;v proceeded oy tney at present i on the Sussex I Lewes, four line east from al harbor (the' ement, having es, and situate md Dover. 232 LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY. LEOTURES ON ASTEONOMT.-No. 5. BY PROFESSOR 0. M. HITCBELU If it wero possible for me to transport you to the distance of ninety millions of miles in a directum passing through the sun's an- nual truck, and could there locate you, your sight would in a short time be greeted with a most wonderful and sublime exhibition. You would see approaching you a mflgnificent world, rapidly whirling upon its own axis. Around this vast central orb you would find a number of beautiful rings of fight: these, too, would be seen to be whirling around with sur- prising velocity. On the outside of this again you would mark, as the object approached nearer and nearer, no less than seven sub- ordinate worlds sweeping around the great central orb and with it rolling through space. This is the planet Saturn with its rings and mfK)ns ; and it is to this object I propose,' pri- marily, to call your attention. It is the most distant of all the old planets known to the an- cients, its period is the longest, and its move- ment the slowest and most majestic. Up to the time of the discovery of the telescope, the wonderful characteristics which mark this ob- ject were unknown, but when Galileo direct- ed his space-annihilating tube to its investiga- tion he announced to the world that he found Saturn to be triple — that there were what he conceived to be two globes attached to the main botly, one on the right and the other on the left. But these were only the projections of those mighty rings standing oblique to the line of vision, and seen imperfectly through his glass which magnified but twenty or thirty times. They appeared to him to be projec- tions or globes attached to opposite sides of the main body of the planet. As the telescope was improved, these projections had their true character revealed, and it was seen that a flat annulus, or ring, passed entirely around the globe of the planet and was separated by a certain amount of distance. As the power of the telescope was increased, and more minute investigations were made, it was found that the broad ring was divided into two rings; and in modern times, within the last few years, by the aid of the mighty telescopes now en- gaged in astronomical mvestigations, it has been ascertained that the outer of these rings is again divided, and there are no less than three which encircle the jilanet. The satel- lites were not discovered till long after the time of Galileo. In the year 1655, we learn, one of them was seen ; and shortly afttr f^ur more were announced. Then Sir William Herschel, with his forty-foot reflector, detects the two minute bodies tnat seem to cling close- ly to the edge of the ring and are scarcely e--er visible in consequence of the intense light thrown out by the planet. Here, then, we have three rings and seven satellitCH, or moons, which belong to this most wonderful sphere: and remember that all these are sweeping with the planet through space, and as it wluels its circle about the sun, they move regularly with it, obedient entirely to its control. IJut what are these mighty rings? The exterior diameter of the outer one is no less than 177,800 miles, their breadth, measured entire- ly across both rings, is 30,000 miles, and their thickness is one hund red miles. How strange- ly are they constituted ! how wonderfully are they poised in space! We can understand the original movement of all the planets with the exception of Saturn ; we can form some idea how ...is earth, which we know to be globular, might have been projected by the hand of Omnipotence, and caused to revolve in its orbit about the sun; but how was it that these stupendous rings were hurled in such a manner as to acquire that stability of movement which holds them steady to the action of the central planet, and at the same time rolls them onward through space with the immense velocity with which they move ? This [wrtion of our system baffles all ■- c- ture : it rises entirely above the cor.. - ' ?.. sion of the human mind. While i e some rough approximation to the nv,,'!< < u3 to how the other planete might have been launch- ed in space, we can form no conception of the manner in which this one was started in its career. But what are these mighty rings? Are they merely a mass of light ? Are they pro- jections of the atmosphere belonging to the planet ? Are they portions flung out by the centrifugal force, and thus in some sense held steady m their position?— Arer they solid bodies? I answer; they are solid bodies, and of the same material that composes the body of the planet. But how do we know this? In the first place, we know them to be solid because, as the planet with its rings passes between us and distant groups of stars, such stars are first occulted by these rings. In the next place, they are not transparent in any degree, because of the fact that at the distance of nine hundred millions of miles we are able to mark the space of the shadows cast by these rings on the bfxly of the planet. Night after night, month after month, and now almost year after year, have I watched with my own eyes the phases of these wonderful shadows. They are deep and dark, much blacker than any shadow vou find c^st upon the surface of the earth. " But agam, they are able to exhibit the same characteristics themselves, and in certain ])osi- tions we find the light of the sun falling upon of the intonfie lipht net. Here, then, we :n satellites, or miions, >.st wonderful sphere: these are sweepina pace, and as it wheel.'* they move regularly yr to its control. But ■ings? The exterior one is no less than dth, measured cntire- D.OOO miles, and their miles. How strange- how wonderfully are We con understand F all the planets with ; we can form some lich we know to be sen projected by the id caused to revolve un; but how was it ings were hurled in lire that stability of them steady to the net, and at the same through 8j)ace with ;h which they move ? ^m baffles all < ■ c- love the corr^, •'-.vv. i. While :-..:;e jn to the nv.,'i( ■( ua to ;ht have been launch- no conception of the le was started in its mighty rings? Are ght J Are they pro- -■re belonging to the ma flung out by the 19 in some sense held 7 — Arer they sf*lid y are solid bodies, I that composes the f this? In the first be solid because, as I passes between us 8, such stars are first In the next place, I any degree, because ance of nine hundred lie to mark the space sse rings on the bwly ?r night, month after ear after year, have eyes the phases of 8. They are deep lian any shadow you I of the earth, 3 to exhibit the same », and in certain posi- the sun falling upon LECTURES ON ABTRONOHY. 233 the body of the planet, which casts a shadow npon the broad surface of these rings; and though we have the same blackness as before, here is the distinct shadow cast by the planet upon the ring. Now, as we watch them at- tentively, we find invariably that these shad- ows depend upon the position of the sun and certain jwaitions of the planet and rings. Just as the shadows which are cast upon the sur- face of the earth depend upon the position of the source of light, so do these ; and they follow with the same precision and accuracy the movement of the source of light that shadows do upon the earth, and hence we can not be deceived. The space by which the interior ring is separated from the body of the planet is no less than twenty thousand miles, and the breadth of the ring is about ten thousand miles before we reach that space which separates it from the next ring, and so onward till we pass the outer one, of which I have just spoken. Now how is it that these rings are hf^ld stable ? How is it that they, detached from the body of the planet, are carried with that planet through space ? The stability of the rings of Saturn is perhaps one of the most difficult and perplexing problems for the as- tronomer, and I would do injustice to the sub- ject were I to pass over it without attempting to give some notion of this singular problem. And before I begin, permit me to explain the fact that there are three different kinds of er^uilibrium — for . ' understanding of this will be involve > ^- 'erstanding of the ex- planation which 1 urn about to make. I will attempt to exhibit these three different kinds of e(|uilibrium by the simplest possible ex- planation. If I were to suspend a rod from the top, and cause it to vibrate as a pendulum, it would finally stop of itself. Here is an equilibrium of stability. Why ? Because if I move it ever so little to the right or left it will come back to its original position. Now if I take the same rod and balance it horizon- tally across my finger, it being equal in mag- nitude and density throughout, I have on e<|uilibrium of inertia, because if I move it slightly it will not fetum, but remain wherev- er 1 place it. Now there is a third kind, ex- emplified by taking the same rod and poising it upon my finger : so long as I can hold the centre of gravity above the point of support, 1 hold it steady ; but the slightest inclination to either side destroys the stability. This is an equilibrium of instability, in consequence of the fact that every deviation tends to in- crease itself, and therefore destroy the equi- librium entirely. Having explained the three kinds of equi- librium, let us now, if you please, pass to the examination of the system of rings of Saturn. It is found by close investigation that in case these rings are precisely circular, in case they are equal in density throughout, in case their centre of gravity is their centre of figure, and in case we add to this the fact that this centre shall coincide with the centre of the planet, about which they are placed, then the e(iui- librium is one of instability, and with the slightest cause that comes in to derange the system such derangement will go on increasing itself, and the centre of gravity of the ring will commence moving in a spiral line about the central planet, the ring approaching closer and closer to that body till finally it is pre- cipitated upon the planet and the whole struc- ture is destroyed. On our examination of the ring we find it to be circular, and in the eorly examination it was believed that the centre of gravity was coincident with the centre of the figure of the ring, and moreover, that the centre of gravity of the figiire coincided with the centre of the planet. This being supposed to be the fact, it seemed impossible that this systflHi should be perpetual, in case there was found in the satellites which revolve upon the exterior a disturbing influence suflScicnt to draw this centre slightly away, and thus begin that very kind of motion which must end in final destruction. It was not till after La- place gave his mighty intellect to the solution of this problem that the truth was discovered. He found that the stability could not be guarantied in any other way than by making the ring unequally thick in different parts, or at least of a different specific gravity. This was not all : it was necessary to move the centre of gravity from the centre of gravity of the planet, and cause it to revolve about that centre in a minute orbit. Yet, however strange this might appear, it seemed as if Saturn was too remote for the telescope ever to verify the principle of this extraordinary statement. But it happens, fortunately for us, that in the position which we occupy in the system, these rings which are so very thin, are occupying a position such that the eye is situated m the plane of the ring and we see them edgewise ; and when wo view them in the first place they exhibit the appearance of a line of light drawn across the diameter of the plane passing through this centre. Now in the disappearance of the ring bv its taking up this position, we are enabled "to examine with tho utmost possible occuracy, and it has been found that the two extreniities do not disappear at the same time, and that there are ine detach the ring from the mass, will in the second in'-tance detach from its equator other .na-iscs which may form satel- lites ; or the se by poseibility may even remain and become solid in the form in which tho^ were first thrown off". If we admit this won- derful and strangi? theory v,-e can understand how It was that the mysterious system of Saturn existed, and how the conditions of stability were such as they now are, and how It is that this body moves on, century after century, without any change— with the sta- bility which fastens every part of it for ever permanent. I do not pretend that this is the manner in which this system was formed ; I do not know —I can not fathom— any such mysterious problem ; but one thing, however, I do know, and that is this : that if by the ai)j)lication of the higher powers of analysis this most extra- ordinary theory is demonstrated to be true, it carries the mind higher and nearer to the great source of all things than any other which the human intellect has ever devised. It gives a more comprehensive idea of the omniscience and omnipotence of God than any other theo- ry of which I have any conception : for here, with motter in a chaotic form and scattered throughout all space, having been brought into existence by the fiat of his will, by the action of one solitary law the universe — as boundless as himself— is upheld and sustained forever ! We pass on from the examination of this subject to another. If in the planet Saturn it seems as if the analogy by which the system is governed has been broken, we shall find in the next planet which revolves upon the ex- terior of this, a still more strange anomaly. For a long time there were certain ditficulties with regard to the movements of Saturn, which seemed to perplex philosophers : it was get- ting out of its computed place, and the most extraordinary difference was seen in the move- ments of Jupiter when compared with those of Sotum. It was found that during the whole of the seventeenth century one cf these placets was perpetually getting beLnd ita computed place, while the other was getting in advance. It seemed that the two were moving in some way in which one was de- pendent upon the other, and it was next to impossible to discover how it was to bo made out. Finally the problem was taken up by Laplace, and solved ; and the explanation Ts perhaps as curious as any which has ever been presented for the examination of the human mind. Who would suppose that the stability of our system depends in any degree upon the relation existing between the periodic time of the plonets 1 Yet this is the fact. We find that in case the periodic times of any two planets should happen to be in such a relation to each other, that one of them taken a certain number of times should be equal to the other taken a certain nuijiber of times different from the first, then irregularities 'fr e fonn in which thsj If we admit this won- ry we can understand mysterious system of low the conditions of hey now arc, and how oves on, century after :hange — with the sta- ery part of it for ever : this is the manner in 'ormed ; I do not know any such mysterious , however, I do know, by the application of alysis this most extra- onstrated to be true, it and nearer to the great a any other which the r devised. It gives a ea of the omniscience I than any other theo- conception : for here, ic form and scattered ving been brought into his will, by the action niversc — as boundless id sustained forever ! e examination of this n the planet Saturn it by which the system oken, we shall hnd in •evolves upon the ex- ore strange anomaly. sre certain dilficulties aents of Saturn, which osophers : it was get- i place, and the most was seen in the move- compared with those md that during the I century one (>f these y getting beh-nd its the other was getting I that the two were 1 which one was de- , and it was next tc jw it was to bo made !m was taken up bv id the explanation fs ' which has ever been nation of the human lose that the stability any degree upon the the periodic time of s the fact. the periodic times of happen to be in such lat one of them taken 3 sliould be equal to in nuijiber of times then irregularities LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY. 235 % mm would be introduced in the system, which would go on always increasing in the same direction and the equilibrium would be that of instability. Now it happens in the peri(xlic times of Jupiter and Saturn there is a close proximity to such a relation — five periods of Jupiter being about sixty years, and two pe- riods of Saturn abour. the same time. Now suppose to-night Jupiter and Saturn occupy a given [losition with reference to the sun, and they start out on their career : at the end of sixty years they will come round again to oc- cupy almost exactly the same relative position; and whatever etfect Jupiter may have had to hasten the movement oi Saturn, or Saturn to retard that of Jupiter, will again be repeated in the same way and in the same position, without the possibility of restoration, except with a ditrerence of configuration on the oppo- site side. Strange as it may appear, this partic- ular case comes very nearly, though not quite exactly, to that of these planets : they do not reach the same position by an amount equal to something like six or seven out of the 360 degrees : here choy are a little behind at the succeeding year — at the next still further — at the next they have changed yet again, till now after about 3,500 years they come to a«:upy the first position in all the successive roands of their orbits ; and not till they have gone entirely around will the compensation be effected and the system be restored to its ori- ginal condition. Such is what is called the long equation of Jupiter and Saturn. I do not mean to say the period is 2,500 yecrs ; because in consequence of the fact that they come to resume the same relative places in ditierent parts of their orbits the same will be efiected in a shorter time : and indeei in consequence of this dilference of configura- tion in difierent parts of their orbits it is ac- complished in nine hundred years. It appears then^ that this particular case which seemed to set the law of gravitation at defiance, is reduced absolutely within the con- trol of the law, and a most beautiful explana- tion of the phenomena is presented. When these difficulties had been removed, a mora rigid scrutiny seemed to reveal others in Saturn, till finally, after having exhausted all the means withm the limits of the solar system to account for them, some mind ven- tured to pa6S the limits that had hitherto circumscribed it, and say, " There must be a planet upon the outside." Bat no one dared at that time to undertake the resolution of the vast problem, by whose solution the position of the unknown body could be determined. Fortunately for the world, in 1781 Sir William Ilerschel in one of his telescopic explorations found an object which attracted his attention : in short, he saw in it something which resem- L bled a planetary disk. On the following night the examination showed that body to have changed its place ; yet so little did he expect to find another planet, that ho announcea he had found a comet ant', commenced to compute its orbit ; but found no elongated orbit would suit the place which had been given to it and that notning but the circular, or nearly so, would fulfil its conditions. It was found to be a planet revolving outside of Saturn, at a distance of eighteen hundred millions of miles from the sun. This (first called Georgium Sidus in honor of King George III.) is known by the name of Herschel — more generally called Uranus. In the course of five or six years, Herschel announced he had found six satellites revolving about the body ; but what astonishment every one, was the announcement that these satel- lites, instead of following the analogy of the other known planets by revolving in tne same direction in which the planets moved, were actually moving backward in their orbits, and nearly perpendicular to the plane of the eclip- tic. Here was a difficulty in the great sys- tt::n of the universe called " Laplace's theo- ry," which I have already announced. If tnis system was formed as he supposad, how is it possible to account for the retrograde mo- tion of these satellites, and for the fao'<; that their planes are nearly perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic ? Perhaps it is impossi- ble to account for it; but if we will admit that such a thing may occur aa the impinging of a comet upon any body in our system, it would not be impossible to account for those retrograde movements, nor for this great in- clination, by supposing at the time this was a duid mass, the movement may have changed its rotation upon its axis, and nave caused the satellites to take the position they now occu- py. I do not present this for any one to re- ceive as a true hypothesis ; it only shows that those who adhere to a particular theory will find ways and means of explaining difficulties which others never would think of. Neither do I wish to be understand as having adopted Laplace's theory; very fir from it. It re- mains to be demonstrated yet, and it is possi- ble the means may yet be attained whereby, by the power of analysis, we may bring out the truth or falsehood of this most atupendous theory. We are obliged, therefore, to accept the statement of Herschel for the present, al- though, so far as I know, up to the present time no eye has ever seen more than threes out of the six satellites which he tells us re- volve about this planet. When this planet had been watched a suffi- cient number of years, and the observations had been made by means of which its orbit could be computed with accuracy, and thi* ««i^ ft ™ ■* ■ ill 236 LECTURES ON ASTRONOMY. place v/hich it had occupied years and years before its discovery, on running hack through the catalogues of stars which had been formed by preceding astronomers, it was found that this body had been seen a number of times and had had its place fixed in the heavens, being regarded as a fixed star. These early observations we'Cv^f infinite value in deter- mining a more ac ate orbit of this planet, so that long before the elements of this orbit were known it was possible to predict its position in all coming time. But when these predic- tions were made, and when observation and theory were compared, it was found that the planet was deviating from its computed place — it was found that no analysis could confine it: it has broken away from its computed orbit, and at the distance of eighteen hundred millions of miles from the centre this body seemed to be moving lawlessly through the heavens. In order to resolve this great problem, it would be necessary to go into a minute inves- tigation of all the observations that had been made ; to go back from the planet through the whole solar system to the sun itself, and to ascertain with the most perfect precision what influence was exerted by all the knovm bodies upon this one. If, after every possible influ- ence had been admitted, accounted for and applied, there were yet outstanding inequalities remaining unaccounted for, it certainly became necessary to look for their cause beyond the limits of the known solar system. This was the problem taken up by Leverrier, and to which I will now call your attention. Perhaps there is no person living in the World who occupies so unfortunote a position as the individual just named. This may sound strangely in your ears. The difficulty is this : that he hos accomplished the resolu- tion of one of the most sublime problems ever attacked by the human mind — literally and truly accomplished it — and yet that problem turns out not to be the problem of nature, or one thot God had given to be resolved! I know how diflScult a task it will be to explain this, and it is this particular difficulty which constitutes the truth of what I hove stated, that his position is one least to be envied ; for he probably never will receive the credit due to him, in conseijuence of the fact that the planet so recently found is not the planet of his analysis. But now for the examination of this matter. Leverrier is a comparatively young man, and had shown the power of his genius by a rigid examination of the conditions involved in the movements of the planet Mercury. He had taken up the old tables which seemed to gov- ern the movements of this planet, and had corrected them from beginnmg to end. It was believed thot the knowlerlge which we al- ready had of the movemen's of this body was sufficiently correct for all practical purposes. The transit of that planet across the sun, which occurred not long since, gave the oppor- tunity of testing the accuracy of his own in- vestigations, in the most perfect marjier ; and when the results came in from every quarter of the world, and were concentrated at Paris, and presented for examination, it was found that he had predicted the instant at which the planet should touch the disk ot the sun more accurately than any other person who had at- tempted It ; and indeed he only failed by the amount of sixteen seconds of time. His great success in this particular induced his friend Arago to request him to attempt the resolution of the problem of the perturliations of Uranus. He commences, not to skim su- perficially over the surface — tailing for granted what had already been done — but goes back to the first observation recorded, and traces each and every one down the stream of time, sifting out everything which belongs to each one of them. Not satisfied with this, he com- mences a review of all the planets that can operate upon its motion, makes a new theory for Saturn, and for Jupiter, takes into consid- eration even the change of position occasioned by the action of Jupiter upon Saturn itself, and the minute subsequent changes it; the ac- tion of Saturn upon the planet nine hundred millions of miles distant from it. All these things are gone through, and with the iiand of a master he holds the problem steadily be- fore his gaze, arid seizes overy point with per- fect certainty. At length he has accounted for the perturbation due to the action of any known body in the solar system, and there is a certain amount yet outstanding. And now the grand object is to pass upon the true ele- ments and see whether it be possible so to locate a planet in space that it may account for this outstanding perturbation, and whether by giving to it this position it be possible to find it. How did ne attempt this? To most persons it would seem utterly beyond the grasp of the human intellect. But let us consider. In the first place : Bode's law of distances told him about where it would be located in space. As Saturn was about twice as far from the sun as Jupiter, and Uranus twice as far as Saturn, he had a right to conclude that possibly the unknown body would be located at twice the distance from the sun of Uranus, or three thousand six hundred millions of miles. Having obtained the distance, Kepler's law gave him the periodic time, and the velocity became proximately known. But now the great point was to get one particular position, and if that could be obtained he could follow its progress and tell where it would be at the e knowledge which we al- ivemrn's of this body was for all practical jmrposes. t planet across the sun, ong since, gave the oppor- ! accuracy of his own in- most perfect marjjer ; and me in from every quarter ere concentrated at Paris, xainination, it was found ■d the instant at which the the disk ot the sun more other person who had at- eed he only failed by the !conds of time, in this particular induced equest him to attempt the ^blem of the perturbations mmences, not to skim su- urface — taking for granted een done — but goes back tion recorded, and traces down the stream of time, ig which belongs to each latistied with this, he com- ' all the planets that can ition, makes a new theory Jupiter, takes into consid- inge of position occasioned ipiter upon Saturn itself, lequent changes in the ac- i tne planet nine hundred stant from it. All these rough, and with the i)and s the problem steadily be- ;izes every point with per- length he has accounted n due to the action of any solar system, and there is et outstanding. And now to pass upon the true ele- Jther it be possible so to pace that it may account perturbation, and whether position it be possible to e attempt this ? To most m utterly beyond the grasp 3ct. But let us consider. : Bode's law of distances !re it would be located in was about twice as far >iter, and Uranus twice as id a right to conclude that vn body would be located e from the sun of Uranus, : hundred millions of milea. lie distance, Kepler's law lie time, and the velocity y known. But now the ;et one particular position, ! obtained he could follow where it would be at the LECTURES ON A3TE0N0MY. 237 end of any given time. To accomplish this ho ciiinmcnccd tin cxnitiination of the derunge- mt'iit in the pliiiii't, Uranus. He found that in certain parts (>f its orliit it is going further and furtlier iiwny frmn the sun. Its radius, or direct lini; to the sun was elongating. This he thimght was no doubt occasioned by the ac- tion of a planet. Let us locate the two planets ill iinn;,MURti(m. Suppose they are on the same side of tiie sun. Tlien the snuce bv which they are sejiaratcd is but eijjhteen liundred millions of miles. But if their position is on opposite sides of the sun, the distance is in- creased by the whole diameter of the orbit of Uranus, or thirty-six hundred millions of miles. Then there will be a vast diirerci. ,■ between the power exerted in one position from tliat in the othiT. Now if he could only find a point in which Uranus is drawn furthest from the sun — if it commences to sweep out, and hav- ing passed a certain point begins to graduolly draw in, from the point where it was most drawn out, then in the prolongation of a line from the sun, passing that iierihelion point must the unknown body be found. All he had to do was to find where Uranus was drawn furthest from the sun, and looking out in that direction he locates the biMly that draws it out. Having, therefore, found one position, uiid the time when Urunus occupied that po- sition, from its known periodic time, he traces up its movement and says at such a day it will occupy such a point m the heavens. He reaches the conclusion of his investigation and presents the results to the institute at Paris ; they are thrown before the scientific world ; they are received with incredulity and doubt by the best living astronomers ; the problem seems to have been too mighty — too intricate for any inind. But Leverrier desires them to point their telescopes to the position in which he says the unknown body exists : his request is granted, and lo ! to the amazement of the whole world, there is a planet exactly in the place pointed out. There was the triumph complete ; and if any had before doubted those iloubts were now removed, ond the whole world rang with the praises of the great astronomer, Leverrier. And now, as if to make everything doubly sure, it is found that a young man of England had been engaged in investigating the same problem, had reached the same results, and seven months before Leverrier had published his, he had presented them to the astronomer royal of his own kingdom and the professors of his own university. Thejr, not daring to take the resjionsibility of uttering them before the world, failed to do it; but so soon as Leverrier's computations were known, so soon as the planet was found, then it became cer- tain that he had been investigating precisely I the same problem and reached the same identi- cal results — each confirming the otlier, and the two combined convinced the world that they had reached the true results. l^ow do you think it possible that this is all false 7 Having carried you to this point, am I obliged to tell you that these computa tions had nothing whatever to do with finding of that planet ? Yet I am absolutely obliged to do it, for it is true. How then sha"ll I show you and convince you, that in announcing this truth I do not jiluck a solitary laurel from the brow of this great man. No, not one ! There they are, green as in the moment of their win- ning, and there they must remain for ever. As soon as it was known that the idnnet was discovered, telescopes were directed from every part of the world to its scrutiny. Its movements were followed v.ith the most in- tense anxiety for the purpose of ascertaining how nearly the real coincided with the com- puted elements. Adams led the way, as he had before done in the computation of the elements derived from theory, and when he reached to the knowledge of the actual dis- tance of the discovered planet, he was the first who found end announced that hitherto the discrepancy between the distance now ab- solutely known, and the first computation of the distance, amounted to about three times the distance of the earth from the sun. He had found by comjiutation before the discovery that at the time of the discovery it ought to be thirty-three times the distance of the e^.rth from the sun, whereas it was but thirty times. This did not appear to be a very great dis- crepancy, yet it was more than was anticipa- ted ; for had it been an error of three times the distance of the earth on the opposite side, there would have been more reason in it, be- cause it would have coincided more neorly with the distance revealed by the law of Bode. It seemed, in consequence of the fact tlmt it had fallen on the inside, in s^me sense to Iiuve violated this law. But again : more tine rolls, on, ond better observations are obtained. Finally, there seemed to be no data to commence a compu- tation of the orbit, thit sl-ould reveal what the phases of the platu-t 'vere in years past and gone, as well as what they v. 1 be when hundreds of years shall have rolled round. One of our own countrymen engaged in this investigation with ardor, zeal, aiid success. Walker, of the United States coast survey, obtained an orbit, and thought he could trace the motion of the planet backward for a hun- dred years. In tracing it backward he honed to find in the catalogue of the fixed stors s<>me one thot might have been observed which should prove to be the planet, and thus give us the advantage of a long series of observa- i.m M' •t i.i« 238 LECTUaSS ON ASTRONOMY. tions extending over many years. The later catalogues were examined : he went back fifty years, till finally he took up the catalogue of Le Lande, made in Paris. He found the stars recorded by him, computed the reach through which he knew the planet to have followed at that date, till he discovered that on the lOch of May, 1795, Le Lande had observed star which then occupied a place where he computed the new planet should have follow- ed at that date. But how could he verify his Erediction that this was the place, and Le lande had seen the planet at that very date 7 He turns his telescope to tho region in the heavens which Le Lande's star had filled, and if it were a fixed star it would be found there, but if it should turn out to be a planet, then would that six)t be blank. The telescope was directed anil lo ! the spot was a blank. Thus it was believed that this was the place of the planet; but when this place was taken into account, and when this observation was combined with later ones, behold ! the orbit determined for this new body, and the period- ic time, fell entirely beyond the limits of Leverrier's and Adams's computations, who had announced that it could not be a period shorter than 210 years nor longer than 268 years. Here was a great discrepancy, so that it was impossible that this could be the the planet of their theory, in case these ob- servations could be sustained. And now it was that every eye was at once directed to the catalogue of Le Lande, to see what his observations were, and distinguish as to what observations were marked doubtful. There were discovered two little dots placed opposite this observation, and referring to his preface, it was found that observations marked with dots were not to be relied upon. Those who longed to find the grand theory which had been built by Leverrier to be true, hoped in this mark to find that which would save the system. So soon as a knowledge of this fact came to the institute at Paris, they appointed an astronomer to review all the old manu- scripts of Le Lande. It is found that on the ni/{ht of the 16th of May, 1795, he made this observation and marked it doubtful. On the same identical piece of paper is discovered an observation made on the 8th of May, on a star, which he believes to have been incorrect- ly made ; this he rejects and takes up what he thinks to be the same star, observes it on the 10th, prints that observation, rejects the other and marks the printed one doubtful. Now what a singular state of afiairs is here 1 But the moment the orbit of the planet is com- puted, that star of the 8th, is found to be in the place of our planet ; and so instead of hav- ing one we have two observations, and the distance between the two stars of the 8th and 10th is the same the planet ought to have travelled, upon the hypothesis we havo already given. Now there seems to be no doubt left in re- gard to that fact that Adams and Leverrier stand before the world in a different position from what they had previously >x;cupied ; but there is something vet left to be ascertained. There is a planet iound in a most wonderful maimer, occupying almost precisely the rK>8i- tion theii planet did occupy. Is it the planet that accounts for the perturbations of Uranus, or is it not ? This is the next question for examination. In order to ascertain that fact, it became necessary to know the mass of this new planet. In the onset it seemed hopeless to look for an answer to this question for a long period of years. But the scrutinizing gaze now directed to the heavens does not permit the most minute point to escape. At length it is announced that from the distance of three thousand millions of miles, the light of a little satellite is flung back all the way to the earth, and that little satellite, by its Periodic time around its planet, reveals to us ow much matter belongs to this most distant orb. Now, although at present I do not know precisely the amount ascertained, for we have only approximated to it, yet the knowledge we have obtained tells us most certainly and absolutely that no mass can be assigned con- sistent with the periodic time of this satellite, whic'i will account for the perturbation of Uranus ; hence the conclusion is forced upon us that this is not the planet of theory, but wo have got to look further before we can settle the question as to what produces all the per- turbations belonging to this interior planet. Now can I reconcile my statement or not ? Have Leverrier and Adams failed in the prob- lem they undertook to investigate? Have the facts I have brought out lowered them in your estimation ? I hope not ; for I can truly feel for these great men. They had resolved the problem they undertook ; they had done it correctly; and in this they displayed the most extraordinary genius that ever has been exhibited by any human mind ; but alas ! for their fame, the problem they solved was not the problem of nature. God has permitted us to see that, and if I were permitted to in- terpret anything I would almost say, here is a special Providence to reward the lofty and powerful efforts of mankind. Such was the structure of the system that it was impossible to attain to a knowledge of it without the solu- tion of this problem, and such was the grandeur of the problem solved, that it deserved as it* reward a world, and a world was given. I know you can comprehend this if I bring you back a little, and refer to what I told you the other night with reference to the asteroids, "'*s^SES»siy.?art, and placing a cocoa-nut shell, spathe of a palm, or such like receptacle, under the fallen trunk to receive the milky sap that immediately exudes upon every fresh incision. This sop is collected in bamboos, token to their houses, and boiled, in order to drive off the wotery particles, oud inspissate it to the consistence It finally assumes Although the process of boiling a|)penrs necessary where the gutta is collected in large quantities, if a tree be fresh- ly wounded, a small (pinntity allowed to ooze out, and it be collected ana moulded in the hand, it will consolidate perfectly in a few minutes, and have all the appearance of the prepared article. When it is quite pure, the crilor is of a grayish white ; but, os brought to the market of Australia, it is more ordinarily found of a reddish hue, arising from chips of bnrk that fall into the sap in the act of making the incisions, and which yield their color to it. Besides these occidental chips, there is a great deal of intentional adulteration by sawdust and other materials. Some specimens that i have been obtained were found to possess verv little short of one fourth of impurities: nnll even the purest specimens yield, on being cleansed, one ounce of impnnties per pound. Fortunately, it is difficult neither to detect nor to clear the gutta of foreign matter; it being only necessary to boil it in water until well softened, roll out the substonce into thin sheets, and pick out all impurities ; which is easily done, as the gutta does not adhere to anything ; ond all foreign matter is merely entangled in its fibres, not incorporoled in its substance. Mr. Oxley has calculated that the quantity exported from Singapore to Great Britain and the continent, from the first of January, 1 84.'J, to the present dote, amounts to about 7,000 piculs; ond that to obtain this quantity nearly 70,000 trees hove been sacrificed. When fresh ond pure, the gutta is of a greasy feel, viith a peculiarly leathery smell. It is not affected by boiling alcohol, but dis- solves readily in boiling spirits of turpentine ; also in naptha and coal tar. A good cement S40 BT. TH0MA8. WEST INPIK9,— COTTONBLEACHIN(», f<»r gluing bottles nml other purpose*. i« form- etl by boiling toKCtber efjual parts of gutta, con! tur, uinl resin. When ri-i|uircil for use, it run always be made olastic by jJiittinK the pot containing it over tno fire for a few min- utes. The gutta itself is very inHaniinable — a strij) cut oH' takes light awl hums with a brij;lit flame, emitting sjiarks, and dropping a liliick residuum in the manner of sealing-wax; which, in itii combustion, it very much re- semldcs. But the great peculiarity of this substance, and that which n;akes it so eminently useful for many purpox-s, is the cHect of boiling- wuter UjK)u it. When immersed for a few minutes ui water above 1,50 degrees of Fahren- heit, it becomes soft and plastic, so is to bo capable of being moulded to any rcijaired shape or fonn, which it retains u|)oi cooling. If II ripof it be cut off and plunged into boil- ing w uter, it contracts in size, in both length and breadth. This is a very anomalous and remarkable phenomenon, apjiurently opposed to all till' laws of heat. It is this plasticity, when plunged into boiling water, that has al- lowed of its being applied to so many useful i>ur|)08es, and which first induced some Ma- lays to fabricate it into whips, which were taken into 8rt, open to ail natinnH, and, consc<|uently, a great cntre|H»t for artieli's of plantation conHumption, such as timl *r, rorn, and Hour, which are shipped to i», in lar>;R quantities from the United .Stotes T he t-.wn is built iin three conical hills, of nearly e |nal elevation, on which stand some well-cnnstrnct- cd fortresses, commanding the harbor and shiii- ping. Till! houses arc bnilt of stone or brick, and are tiled in the Dutch monner. The population is stated to exceed three thousand individuals, of whom four hundred are whites. The Virgin Islands, generally, are subject to earthquakes, but the shocks are slight, and are not attended with such dreadful consecioen- ccs as in the Antilles, which are further to the southeast. COTTON -BLEACHING. CoTTOH, flax, wool, and silX. have all, in their natural states, a certain shode of color. These tints remain with them more or less during the processes of weaving; 8«) that if it be desired to pnKluce them in a perfectly white form, it is necessary to subject them to some bleaching process. Bleaching, it must be borne in mind, is not imparting a color to cloth, but removing all color from it. The Egyptians and other ancient nations appear to have known certain modes of bleach- ing linen cloth ; but their processes, as well as those of later ages, are not well known to us. Until about a century ago, bleaching was hardly known in England, in either theory or practice. The brown linens made in Great Britain were sent to Holland to be bleached This process consumed a long periixl, nam^'y, from March to October of each year. The principal Dutch bleaching-groumis were in the neighborhood of Haarlem ; and the great success of their bleaching was ascribed to the superior efficacy of the water, which was filtered sea-water. The process consisted in steeping the linen for about a week in a potash ley poured over it boiling hot. The cloth was then taken out of the ley, washed, and put into wooden vessels containing butter-milk, in which it lay under pressure for fiv or six days ; after this it was spread U|x>n the grass, and kept wet for several months, exposed to the sunshine of summer. In 1749, an Irishmnn introduced a some- what similar mode of ' caching into England, and after many ditScultics, succeeded in ef- fec/ing it tolerably well, but with lamentable slo .vness. From this time, a succession of im- :hin(». iilp, »nil lin» good nnrlior- It dfrivrn itn ini|)<)rtnnro , Dpcii to oil nntiimw, nml, cutrr|)«it for articlrs of :>n, Huch n» timt "r, com, ; shipped to it in )aru« nitrd Statei" ^hp^.wn ml hills, of nearly f \rm\ nnd Homo wrll-conHtrnct- idinj{ the hnrljor und nhip- rc bnill of stone or lirirk, 3 Dutch mnnnpr. Tho ;o encned three thontinnd four hundred ore whites, generally, are subject to I shocks are slight, and such dreadful conse(|nen- , which are further to the BLEACHING. L)1, and silk, have all, in a certain shade of color, with them more or less of weaving; so that if it them in a perfectly white to subject them to soine Bleaching, it must be impurting a color to cloth, r from it. id other ancient nations 11 certain modes of bleach- their pnxiesses, as well s, ore not well known to ntury ago, bleaching was gland, in either theory or 'n linens made in Great HoUond to be bleached ed a long periful, nam^'v, bcr of each year. The aching-grounds were in Hoorlem ; nnd the great ;liirij,' was ascribed to the the water, which was The pnicess consisted in about a week in a potash ling hot. The cloth was le ley, woshed, ond put :ontaining butter-milk, in assure for fiv'» or six days ; Bad upon the gross, and months, exposed to the man introduced a some- r \ 'eaching into England, cultics, succeeded in ef- 'ell, but with lamentable 8 time, a succession of im- r X HK'jV/iwaw^^CW! I y- swr^?!^ '^'* J'l- »»i" "■. nr provcmcnt* took plart*. Dr. P. Home ihnwed that that pare of the eflV-ct which milk pro- duccil in NJK nr eight week*, might be produced by wenk sulphuric acid in twenty-four houra. Thin enabled the manufacturer to receive his bleached cotxls in a much ahorfer time than before, and therefore to trade with ieita capital. The next Jm|>ortBnt, and in fact we may aay the important improvement in the art of bleoching, resulted from the discovery of chlorinr. Thi'i gas was first separated from muriatic acid by Scheele ond Uerthollet about the year 1780; and one of the first properties discovered in the new gos, wos an extraordi- nary newer of destroying vegetable color. This fact was s(M>n taken up by Saussure, James Watt, Professor Copland, and Mr. Hen- ry, and other |)ractical men, and a speedy rev- olution took place in the art of bleaching. There were, however, sundry objections made to the use of chlorine, on account of the oflen- sive smell which it exhales. But it was dis- covered that the gas might be united with lime, whereby mucn of the odor was removed, without depriving the gas of its bleaching prop- erty. As a proof of the wnnlerful advance made in thia art, Dr. Ure staff . hat an eminent bleacher in Lancashire once received fourteen hundred pieces of gray muslin on a Tuesday, which, on the Thursday immediately follow- ing, were returned bleached to the manufac- turers, at the distance of sixteen miles, and they were packed up nnd sent off on that very day to a foreign market ; thus elTecting in two days what formerly occupied six months ! We will now describe the present minJe of bleach- ing cotton fabrics. When the woven cotton passes tothe bleach- er, he has the pieces sewn up end tti end into a longer (liece five hundred yards in length, and »>tump8 the owner's name on one end of each piece, which is done in a kind of ink formed of coal-tar. The cloth is then drawn rapidly over a hot iron, by which the hairy filaments of cotton are singed otf without burn- ing the cloth itself. The pieces of cloth are next folded up into an irregular bundle, and thrown into a large cistern of cold water, where they become completely soaked. When quite wetted, the cloth is put into a revolving hollow cylinder, by which it undergoea a pro- cess of washing : this prepares it for the re- ception of the bleaching materials. A solution of lime is then prepared, by slaking ciuick-lime, and mixing it into a kind of cream with water: this cream is laid between the folds or a long piece of the cloth, and the whole i? placed in a boiler, and boiled rapidly for several hours. This removes the paste which the cotton had received before being woven, and also the greasy spots which are likely to occur in the cloth. The cloth is now prepared to receive the bteaeking-powder. This is hchlcrideoflime, and is made on a great scale in mannfactorir-s devoted to that express purpose. To pnKlnce it, a quantity of slaked lime is spreail out on a stone floor, and the apartment rlosetl in |ier- fectly air-t'sht. A leailen pipe leads from it to a large leaden vessel containing /ommon table salt, black oxydo of manganese, iiid dilute sulphuric acid. A nhymirol action takes place among these ingredients, esti» cially when aid- ed by hcnt ; and the chlorim gas (one ingre- dient in common salt), lircotning liberated, ascends throu<;h the leaden pipe, and unites chymicolly with the lime cpread out on the floor. Tnis, then, is the Ueachine-powdf ; and in order to apply it to the cloth, twenty- four |>ounds arc dissolved i'l sixty gallons of wat( or if the (pjantity of cloth to be bleach- ed be seven hundred pounds, three hundred and ci'ihty-eight pounds of bl'^aching-powder are dissolved in nine hundred and seventy-one gallons of water. In this cold solution the cloth is ateeped for about six hours ; and on taking it out and washing it with water, it is found to be partially bleached. The bleoching is further extended by steep- ing the cl' ith for a few hours in woter contain- ing a little sulphuric acid : this removes the oxyde of iron which the cloth is apt to contain, and also the small portion of lime which is liable to adhere to it. The cloth is again washed in cold water, and again steeped for five or six hours in a solution of bleaching- powder, weaker than the first. Lastly, anoth- er steeping for four hours in water slightly impregnated with sulphuric acid, presents the cotton cloth in a purely white state. It will thus be seen that the cloth, even under the improved process, undergoes a complicated treatment ; but if it be of inferior (juality, some of the above processes are omitted. But the labors of the bleacher are not yet ended ; there are many finishing processes still to be done. When tne last bleaching is ended, the cloth is carefully washed, to re- move all traces of thd acid, &cc. It is then squeezed, to force out as much as possible remaining in the cloth : this squeezing be- ing effected by passing the cloth between two rollers working closely on each other. The cloth is now damp anrf much crumpled ; and the next process is to pull out each piece to its full breadth : this is done by women. But the edges of the piece still continue folded in. To make them straight, a workman strikes the bundle against a smooth beating stock, first one edge, and then the other. By this pro- cess the pieces are spread out to their full breadth, and all the folds and wrinkles re- moved. The cloth is then mangled while wet : this ^A J-*. i prepRred to recpivo the Tlii» ii tLchlcridtofUme, ;at scali! in niBnufactorir>i :m purpose. Tonnnluce Led lime is tpreaii nut on apartment closed in [>er- lenden pipe leads from it pssel containing /ommnn Bof nian/iiaiifse, titd dilute iymirnl action takes place •nts, e»!)» cinlly when aid- • chlorin- gas (one ingre- ilt), Iweorning liberated, leaden pipe, and unites lime ("oread out on the t the Ueaching-powdf- ; f it to the cloth, twenty- ilved h> sixty gallons of tity of cloth to be bleach- d iioundH, three hundred mds (»f bl'»aching-powder hundred and seventy-one [n this cold Holution the ibout six hours; and on shing it with water, it is I bleached. urther extended by steep- ly hours in woter contain- ! acid : this removes the :he cloth is apt to contain, portion of lime which is it. The cloth is again !r, and again steeped for a solution of bleaching- 1 the first. Lastly, anoth- hours in water slightly Iphnric acid, presents the rely white state. It will le cloth, even under the jndergoes a complicated t be of inferior (|uolity, recesses are omitted. the bleacher are not yet lany finithinff processes hen tne last bleaching is carefully washed, to re- he acid, ice. It is then }ut as much as possible oth : this squeezing be- ng the cloth between two elv on each other. The ml much crumpled ; and to pull out each piece to is done by women. But :e still continue folded in. light, a workman strikes smooth beating stock, first the other. By this pro- spread out to their full e folds and wrmkles re- mangkd while wet : this IMPORTANCE OF SSLF KNOWLEDOf. 243 ii done by passing tt between rollers, by which it is made toji-rubly smooth and even, and rvody fur ttiirr.hinff or it{ffenin/(, Thi) starch emiiloyed fur this purpose is made from flour witn tne addition of a small <|uuntity of some earthy substance. It is mixed into a thi( k iiaxte, and pourod into a box or vat. The cloth IS made to di|> into this vat, and thus imbibe a portion of starch, and intinediately afterward to pass between two rollers, which expel the superfluous starch, and work i\\>^ remainder well into the pores of the cloth, by which it becomes thickened. It, has lieen observe i "This method of thickening was undoubtedly intended at first as a fraudulent metluxl of making the purchaser bclievv that the cloth wau much stouter and thickeT than it really was. But it has been so long practised, and is now so universally known, that all pur- chasers must be aware of it, and of course not in any danger of being deceived. But it cer- tainly serves the purpose of making the giMxls appear much more beautiful, aiut of a stouter fabric to the eye ; and as long as they continue \» -washed, they are really stronger than they V "lid be without this artificial dressing. So fa' it is beneficial ; and as it does not enhance (.1 price, the purchasers have no reason to jmnlain of imposition." Tne starched cloth is hung up in a heated room to dry : und is then ready for mlender ■ ing, i\T impurting a tmoothness and gloss to it. For this purpose, it is dam|)cd by being slight- ly sprinkled with water by an ingenious ma- cliine, and is then forced between two rollers, which press it very heavily, Ditlerent ap- fiearanccs, varying from that of a soft silkv ustre to thot of wiry texture, are given to it by varying the degree of pressure. The cloth is now finished, and is folded into a pile, with pastelx)ard and iron plates between the folds, and subjected to a heavy pressure, in a Bramah press. When removed from this i)re88, the cloth is unfolded, and consigned to the respec- tive owners. Thus we see that the process of bleaching a piece of cotton involves more than twenty distinct processes ; and yet the charge for the whole is less than one naif- penny per yard ! Such is the etFect of combined improvements in mechanical and chymical processes; im- provements which give to the large bleach- works of Lancashire an interest felt by both the man of science, and the intelligent obser\ er who lOoks only to learn. Reason. — Without reason, as on a tempest- uous sea, we are the sport of every wina and wave, and know not, till the event hath deter- mined it, how the next billow will disfirMe of us ; whether it will dash us against a rock, or drive as into a quiet harbor. TMPORTANCK OP SELF-KNOWLEDGE. Tmehc is no theme upon which humanity can bestow its i«ttenti< n to more advantage, nor \<.hiuh tnaiimrts to its votarist, more real pleasure, than the ptirsuit of knowledge. But of all the various departments of knowledge, there is no I'ne which carries with it more im- portance — w)'''.h is ro Ultimately identified with the welfare of each individual and hence with th' general interests uf humanity, nor which in more frc(|uently neglected than that which constitutes the suoject of the present article. The duty of self-knowledge, has ever been looked upon, by the more intelligent of every nation, us indispensable to the temp4)ral as well as spiritual interests of man. The ancient Greeks, though destitute of a knowledge of the Scrr t'li'es, were not insensible to its im- portance, 'Jut BO deeply consciouii were they of Its ni.Oi ■ .;';i' decidedly religious tendency that they caused the inscription, " Know thy- self" to be consecrated in golden characters on the ancient temple of D^lphos. Even Cicero, the preat Koman orator, at- tributed its authenticity to the gods, believing it to convey to