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 N MEMORIAM 
 
 JESSICA PEIXOTTO 
 3864-1941 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
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 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/famousboysliowtlieOOnewyricln J 
 
William Jay, the Boy-preacher, delivering his First Discourse to a rustic 
 
 Congregation. Page 290. 
 
^MronK-W. A.TQWNSEND &B 
 

FAMOUS BOYS: 
 
 ASID 
 
 HOW TIIEY BECAME GREAT MEX. I 
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 YOUTHS AND YOUNG MEN, AS A STIMULUS 
 TO EARNEST LIYING. 
 
 e > t 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 W. A TOWNSEND AND COMPANY. 
 
 1861. 
 
1 
 cr/d 
 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by 
 
 W. A. TOWNSEND AND COMPANY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 GIFT 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 LoED Stanley said at Accrington, " I believe 
 that one of the most important volumes that could 
 possibly be -written — and when it is written it 
 ought to find a place in every hamlet, almost in 
 every cottage — would be a biographical record 
 of a few selected instances of those eminent and 
 illustrious persons who, in various occupations and 
 departments of life, have raised themselves from 
 the ranks." The reason is obvious. Biography 
 serves the excellent purpose of informing the 
 irresolute and desponding how the true man has 
 not repined but worked. If his social position 
 has been low — the first round on the ladder — the 
 greater need to work in order to ascend. Has 
 his education been neglected ? does he find him- 
 self, when he wakes up to his real position in life, 
 ignorant of the mere rudiments of knowledge ? — 
 
 ivil41164 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 nil desperandumy others have been Hke him, and 
 by dint of diligence and patience greater diffi- 
 culties have been overcome ; he also will gird 
 himself right manfully for the fight. Biography 
 has no truer lesson to teach than this, that as sure 
 as any object is pursued with diligence, with in- 
 dustry, with unfaltering perseverance, whether it 
 is mental improvement, the attainment of honor- 
 able independence, or progress in any good and 
 useful work, the end desired is certain to be 
 attained. There is no law so sure, there is no 
 end so certain, as that industry meets with its just 
 reward. 
 
 Every youth, doubtless, in his first start in life, 
 purposes to have an object, to make life practical 
 and real. In such an epoch of personal history, 
 good intentions and earnest resolves are em- 
 braced ; a strict line of conduct is marked out, 
 and, as it is supposed, an undeviating life entered 
 upon. But there come the blandishments and 
 seductions of ease and pleasure, and the number- 
 less excitements which drive away purposes and 
 resolutions to dare nobly and act truly. Subse- 
 quently, it may be, a review of the past may show 
 the pathway of life strewn with good intentions, 
 with the wrecks and waifs of purposes uncom- 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 pleted and promises unfulfilled. At such a time 
 there is no refuge in the belief that circumstances 
 have been adverse. Circumstances and oppor- 
 tunities are not needed to make great men ; great 
 men make opportunities. The strong, resolute 
 man, the courageous, determined youth, are not 
 swayed by obstacles or unforeseen difficulties; 
 these hindrances, which turn away the timid and 
 less courageous, only serve to make them more 
 energetic and resolute. How many youths are 
 there who will pass through life with the keenest 
 mental capabilities, but, lacking purpose and de- 
 termination, will achieve nothing — dying as though 
 they had not Uved ! More than every other thing, 
 action is the one thing needful. A purpose once 
 formed, and then death or victory. It is in these 
 respects that the lives of Famous Boys, and the 
 biography of great men, serve for examples and 
 encouragement to those vacillating between desire 
 and execution — the intention and the fulfilment of 
 a noble purpose. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Daniel Websteb . . . .11 
 
 Samuel Drew . • • . 19 
 
 Benjamin Franklin . . . .44 
 
 Robert Burns .... 64 
 
 Elisha Kent Kane . . . .64 
 
 Henry Clay . . • . 16 
 
 John Leyden . . . .85 
 
 James Montgomery . . • 100 
 
 Nathaniel Bowditch . . .116 
 
 Henry Havelock . , . 124 
 
 David Livingstone . . . .136 
 
 Oliver Evans . . , . 157 
 
 Samuel Taylor Coleridge . • .163 
 
 Robert Fulton. . • • .174 
 
 John Kiito . • • • . 179 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 Humphrey Davy 
 
 
 
 PACK 
 
 205 
 
 Amos Lawrence 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 . 218 
 
 Stephen Girard . 
 
 
 
 229 
 
 Sam u el Crompton 
 
 . 
 
 • • 
 
 . 241 
 
 Thomas Chalmers 
 
 
 
 254 
 
 Jacques Laffitie 
 
 . 
 
 • • 
 
 . 264 
 
 John James Audubon 
 
 
 279 
 
 "William Jay , 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 . 284 
 
 Roger Sherman , 
 
 
 
 297 
 
FiMOUS Bors. 
 
 DAOTEL WEBSTEE. 
 
 On the 18th of January, 1782, at Salisbury, in 
 the state of New Hampshire, Daniel Webster, the 
 intellectual giant of his generation, came into the 
 world. His ancestors were of Scotch descent, 
 and had resided in the immediate vicinity from the 
 earliest times. His fiither is described as " a man 
 of large and stalwart form, of swarthy complexion, 
 and of remarkable features; of clear intellect, 
 strong convictions, and indomitable will. Many 
 of these traits survived in his illustrious son." 
 
 Young Daniel received the first rudiments of his 
 education from his mother, who was a woman of 
 superior intellect. She prophesied, it was said, 
 that her son would become eminent, and lived to 
 see him a member of Congress. We cannot help 
 our regrets that she did not live to see him in the 
 full meridian of his glory — a " locomotive * in 
 breeches," as Sydney Smith described him, the 
 
1^< Vj i ) 'II I cSt^lmoIjs boys. 
 
 grandest intellect of his age, the wonder, admira- 
 tion, and delight of his countrymen. 
 
 To a little log school-house, situated about a 
 half a mile distant from the farm, Webster was 
 occasionally sent — that is, whenever he could be 
 spared from home. "He was the brightest in 
 the school," wrote the master, many years after- 
 ward, " and Ezekiel (his brother) next ; but Daniel 
 was much quicker at his studies. He would learn 
 more in five minutes than another boy in five 
 hours. One Saturday, I remember, I held up a 
 handsome new jack-knife to the scholars, and 
 said, the boy who would commit to memory the 
 greatest number of verses in the Bible by Monday 
 morning should have it. Many of the boys did 
 well ; but when it came to Daniel's turn to recite, 
 I found that he had committed so much that, after 
 hearing him repeat some sixty or seventy verses, 
 I was obliged to give up, he telling me that there 
 were several chapters yet that he had learned. 
 Daniel got that jack-knife." 
 
 But during all the busy periods of the year, 
 Daniel was obliged to assist his father, which 
 rendered progress in his studies very irregular. 
 But Daniel was bent on obtaining knowledge ; he 
 read and studied every opportunity. It is related 
 that while assisting his father at a little saw-mill 
 where he worked, he always carried with him 
 some favorite author, and while waiting for the 
 saw to pass through the logs, which occupied about 
 ten minutes, he employed these brief intervals by 
 
DANIEL WEB8TEE. 13 
 
 eagerly devouring the contents of the volume. 
 And so tenacious was the memory of this remark- 
 able man, that in the very last year of his life he 
 was enabled to recite large portions of the works 
 he had committed in this manner. But his books 
 were necessaril^^few, and the young giant already 
 panted for wider opportunities and a larger field 
 of operation. So scarce were books, that you will 
 be surprised to learn that the great expounder of 
 the constitution first became acquainted with that 
 immortal instrument by perusing it, printed on a 
 cotton pocket-handkerchief imported from Eng- 
 land. Such are the little beginnings of some of 
 the profoundest scholars and greatest men of the 
 world. " Despise not the day of small things," 
 but let every boy remember to lay hold and make 
 use of every thing that falls in his way ; if he 
 cannot obtain books let him study newspapers ; let 
 nothing escape him what will afford him informa- 
 tion, and opportunities will multiply as he ad- 
 vances along the road of life. 
 
 When Daniel had attained his fourteenth year, 
 he spent a few months at the Phillips Academy, 
 Exeter. Here he mastered the English grammar, 
 and commenced the study of Latin. In his fifteenth 
 year he passed a few months under the tuition of 
 the Rev. Samuel Woods, a popular divine, who 
 prepared boys for college, at one dollar a week for 
 tuition and board. Daniel was studious, but some- 
 what regardless of the fi^s of the establishment. 
 He was very fond of hunting, a passion which ad- 
 
14 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 hered to him imtil his death, and Mr. Woods, 
 for some offence in this particular, required him 
 to commit to memory as a punishment a hundred 
 lines of Virgil. This was no task whatever to 
 Daniel ; and as Mr. Woods, on the next day, 
 wanted to get away from schocj at the earliest 
 moment in order to keep an appointment in a 
 neighboring village, but before closing school was 
 to hear the hundred lines, young Webster deter- 
 mined to have a httle revenge. He presented 
 himself before his master at the proper hour, book 
 in hand, and with great fluency repeated the 
 hundred lines. His instructor commended him. 
 
 " I have a few more lines that I can recite," said 
 the mischievous Daniel. 
 
 Mr. Woods was about to close the book, but he 
 requested him to proceed. A second hundred 
 lines were repeated as easily as the first. 
 
 " You are a smart boy," said Mr. Woods, pre- 
 paring to depart. 
 
 "I have a few more I can recite, sir," said 
 Daniel quietly. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" said the instructor, who was 
 already behind hand with his engagement. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; about five hundred, I think," replied 
 Webster, with the greatest unconcern. 
 
 "That's enough, Dan," quickly replied the in- 
 structor, whom, as matters proved, was the only 
 one punished. *' You may have the whole day for 
 pigeon-shooting," and the disconcerted tutor made 
 haste to escape Irom his pupil. 
 
DANIEL WEBSTEK. 15 
 
 Young Webster exHibited a promise so extraor- 
 dinary, and evinced an ajDtitude for study so re- 
 markable, that his father, although ill able to bear 
 the expense, determined to send him to college. 
 In obedience with this resolve, he was sent to 
 Dartmouth, where he graduated in 1801. Greatly 
 impressed with the advantages of a collegiate 
 education, immediately upon his return home he 
 determined to secure to his brother Ezekiel similar 
 advantages, and in order to obtain funds for this 
 purpose, he resolved to become a schoolmaster. 
 He went to Fryeburg, Me., and accepted a situa- 
 tion with a salary of three hundred and fifty 
 dollars per annum ; and in order to increase this 
 sum, he devoted his evenings to the laborious 
 occupation of copying deeds for the County Re- 
 corder at twenty-five cents each. It was this latter 
 occupation that directed his attention to the study 
 of the law — he read Blackstone and other sub- 
 stantial works. Mr. Webster describes himself at 
 this period as " long, slender, pale, and all eyes." 
 He was known around the country by the nick- 
 name of All Eyes. He was steady in his habits ; 
 industrious and studious, his only recreation being 
 trout-fishing. He soon after took up the regular 
 study of the law with Mr. Gore, and in 1805 was 
 admitted to practice in Boston. He now rapidly 
 advanced on a career of prosperity ; he obtained 
 practice, attracted attention, and was spoken of as 
 a rising young member of the bar. In 1822 he 
 was elected member of Congress, and there began 
 
16 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 that grand public career which every American 
 knows by heart. His wisdom, his statesmanship, 
 his eloquence, his wonderful intellectual capacity, 
 do not need to be dwelt upon. It is our business 
 simply to point out the paths by which he attained 
 his transcendent honors. 
 
 Daniel Webster was clearly a man of enormous 
 mental capacity, but his great native endowments, 
 unaccompanied with labor, method, determination, 
 would never have resulted so brilliantly. "He 
 had the genius and the inclination," says a bio- 
 grapher, "to do things perfectly; to do every 
 thing as well as it could be done." A very great 
 secret of success, let us say, and we advise the 
 reader never to let that slovenly sentiment of 
 "make-do" get into his brain. Avoid all luke- 
 warmness ; work with zeal ; do what you attempt 
 to do with all your might. " In the bright lexicon 
 of aspiring youth there's no such word as failP'' 
 Remember that, and strike hard, strike with cour- 
 age ; hammer at your labor until the thing is done 
 —and never stop short of perfection if you can 
 help it. Webster was an early riser, and very 
 methodical in his labors. " What little I have ac- 
 complished," he used to say, " has been done early 
 in the morning." He was usually up and in his 
 study by five o'clock ; this gave him two or three 
 hours before breakfast — two or three hours before 
 half the world had commenced their daily tasks. 
 His was the same plan as that pursued by Sir 
 Walter Scott, who wrote nearly all his wonderful 
 
DANIEL AVEBSTEK. 17 
 
 books in this way ; frequently when his house was 
 full of guests he appeared at the breakfast-table 
 after a three hours' sitting, and in that way would 
 write an entire romance, and yet be scarcely missed 
 by his visitors. 
 
 Mr. Webster was passionately fond of out-door 
 recreation ; he was excessively fond of gunning, 
 and perhaps nothing gave him greater satisfaction 
 than a quiet day's fishing. " In his domestic habits 
 he was remarkable for a graceful playfulness and 
 a complete unbending to the sportive impulse of 
 the moment. When he arose in the morning he 
 might be heard singing a scrap of discordant 
 melody, much to his own amusement. He gener- 
 ally Avound up on such occasions with the remark 
 that if there was any thing he understood well it 
 was singing. He had a fondness, too, for spelling 
 out, in the most unheard-of manner, the various 
 familiar remarks which he had occasion to utter. 
 The lowing of a cow or the cawing of a crow has 
 sometimes started him not only to imitate those 
 creatures with his own voice, but nearly all the 
 other animals that were ever heard. He was also 
 in the habit, when in a certain mood, of grotesque- 
 ly employing the Greek, Latin, and French lan- 
 guages, with a sprinkling of Yankee and Western 
 phrases, in familiar conversation ; and he had an 
 amusing way of conjugating certain proper names, 
 and of describing the characters of unknown per- 
 sons by the meaning of their names. He was, 
 withal, one of the best story-tellers in the world. 
 
18 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 and everything lie related in that line had a good 
 climax. When fishing, he used to round oif sen- 
 tences for future use, and many a trout has heen 
 apostrophized in imperishable prose. A couple of 
 fine fish were passed into his basket with the fol- 
 lowing rhetorical flourish, which was subsequently 
 heard in the Bunker Hill Oration : ' Venerable 
 men ! you have come down to us from a former 
 generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened 
 out your lives that you might behold this day.' " 
 
 Daniel Webster died on the twenty-fourth day 
 of October, 1852, in the seventy-first year of his 
 age. 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 
 
 The instances are so numerous of great men 
 being in their youthful years poor and subjected 
 to privation, unfriended and uninstructed, that the 
 reader of biography almost looks upon that condition 
 of early life as necessary to future greatness. There 
 can be no doubt that overcoming difficulties early 
 is a ti'aining and an education, which no amount 
 of mere scholastic teaching can supply ; and that 
 that boy, who succeeds in throwing from him 
 habits and practices formed in the company of 
 dissolute and wicked companions, has already laid 
 the foundation of a life, it may be, of usefulness 
 and honor. If our admiration is excited at the 
 narration of some deed of daring or perilous ad- 
 venture, how ought we to treasure every example 
 of perseverance under difficulties, especially, as in 
 the case of Samuel Drew, those difficulties being 
 overcome, a position of intellectual greatness was 
 attained, not surpassed by the most gifted scholars 
 of any age ? 
 
 Samuel Drew was born near St. Austell, in 
 Cornwall, England, March 3, 1765. His father 
 was a husbandman, and followed, also, the occu- 
 
20 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 palion of " streaming ;" but neither means of liv- 
 ing secured his family against the chilling in- 
 fluences of poverty. But still he contrived to 
 send his two boys, Samuel and Jabez, to a day- 
 school at St. Austell. Jabez was evidently in love 
 with the instruction he received ; but Samuel, the 
 subject of this sketch, preferred to absent himself 
 from the school as often as opportunity permitted. 
 His mother partially supplied the deficiency by 
 giving him reading lessons at home; and his 
 brother, also, gave him some little instruction in 
 writing. His mother appears to have been an in- 
 valuable woman, whose simple teaching left an 
 impression that remained with him his lifelong. 
 Of one incident he thus speaks : " I well remem- 
 ber, in my early days, when my mother was alive, 
 that she invariably took my brother and me by the 
 hand, and led us to the house of prayer. Her 
 kind advice and instruction were unremitting ; and 
 even when death had closed her eyes in darkness, 
 the impression remained long upon my mind, and 
 I sighed for a companion to accompany me thither. 
 On one occasion, I well recollect, we were return- 
 ing from the chapel, at St. Austell, on a bright and 
 beautiful starlight night, when my mother pointed 
 out the stars as the work of an Almighty Parent, 
 to whom we were indebted for every blessing. 
 Struck with the representation, I felt a degree of 
 gratitude and adoration which no language could 
 express, and through nearly all the night enjoyed 
 ineffable rapture." 
 
SAMUi<:L mi::\\'. til 
 
 Rude and callous as Samuel was, the death of 
 his mother much aflfected hhn. His best friend 
 was gone. By the time he was eight years old he 
 was placed to work as a huddle-boy^ for which he 
 received three halfpence per day. Tlie example 
 imd immorality of the boys amongst whom he 
 wocked did him serious injury. Samuel's father 
 was a rehgious man; but, owing to accepting 
 many engagements to teach and preach to stran- 
 gers, he had no time to devote to his own house- 
 hold ; thus Samuel and his brother were neglected. 
 
 In the year 17*76, and before he had finished his 
 eleventh year, Samuel was apprenticed to a shoe- 
 maker residing about three miles from St. Austell. 
 His condition there is best expressed in his own 
 words : " My new abode," he wr6te, " at St. Bla- 
 zey, and new engagements, were far from being 
 pleasing. To any of the comforts and conveniences 
 of life I was an entire stranger, and by every mem- 
 ber of the family was viewed as an underling, come 
 thither to subserve their wishes, or obey their 
 mandates. To his trade of shoemaker my master 
 added that of farmer. He had a few acres of 
 ground under his care, and was a sober, indus- 
 trious man ; but, unfortunately for me, nearly one 
 half of my time was taken up in agricultural pur- 
 suits. On this account, I made no proficiency in 
 my business. While in this place I suffered many 
 hardships. When, after having been in the fields 
 all day, I came home with cold feet, and damp and 
 dirty stockings, if the oven had been heated dur- 
 
22 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ing the day, I was permitted to throw my stock- 
 ings into it, that they might be dry against the 
 following mornu]g ; but frequently have I had to 
 put them on in precisely the same state in which I 
 had left them the preceding evening. To mend 
 my stockings, I had no one ; and frequently have 
 I wept at the holes, which I could not conceal ; 
 though, when fortunate enough to procure a stock- 
 ing-needle and some worsted, I have drawn the 
 outlines of the hole together, and made what I 
 thought a tolerable job. 
 
 " During my apprenticeship many bickerings 
 and unpleasant occurrences took place. Some of 
 these preyed with so much severity on my mmd, 
 that several times I had determined to run away, 
 and either enlist on board of a privateer or a 
 man-of-war. A kind and gracious Providence, 
 however, invariably defeated my purposes, and 
 threw unexpected obstacles in the way, at the 
 moment when my schemes were apparently on the 
 eve of accomplishment. 
 
 " In some part of my servitude, a few numbers 
 of Tlie Weekly Entertainer were brought to my 
 master's house. This little publication, which was 
 then extensively circulated in the west of England, 
 contained many tales and anecdotes which greatly 
 interested me. Into the narratives of adventures 
 connected wdth the then American war, I entered, 
 w^ith all the zeal of a partisan, on the side of the 
 Americans. The history of Paul Jones, the Sera- 
 pis, and the Bon Homme Richard, by frequent 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 23 
 
 reading, and daily dwelling upon them in the al- 
 most solitary chamber of my thoughts, grew up 
 into a lively image in my fancy, and I felt a strong 
 desire to join myself to a pirate ship ; but, as. I 
 had no money, and scarcely any clothes, the idea 
 and scheme was vain. Besides these Entertainers^ 
 the only book which I remember to have seen in 
 the house Avas an odd number of the History of 
 England, about the time of the Commonwealth. 
 With the reading of this I was at first pleased; 
 but when, by frequent perusal, I had nearly 
 learned it by heart, it became monotonous, and 
 was shortly afterward thrown aside. With this, 
 I lost not only a disj^osition for reading, but al- 
 most ability to read. The clamor of my compan- 
 ions and others engrossed nearly the whole of my 
 attention, and, so far as my slender means would 
 allow, carried me onward toward the vortex of 
 dissipation. 
 
 "One circumstance I must not omit to notice, 
 during this period of my life, as it strikingly marks 
 the superintending providence of God. I was 
 sent one day to a neighboring common, bordering 
 on the seashore, to see that my master's sheep 
 were safe, and together. Having discharged my 
 duty, I looked toward the sea, which, I presume, 
 could not be less than two hundred feet below 
 me. I saw the seabirds busily employed provid- 
 ing for their young, flying about midway between 
 the sea and the elevation on which I stood, when 
 I was seized with a strange resolution to descend 
 
24 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the cliff, and make my way to the place where 
 they had built their nests. It was a desperate 
 and dangerous attempt ; but I determined to per- 
 severe. My danger increased at every step ; and 
 at length I found that a projecting rock prohibited 
 my further progress. I then attempted to re- 
 treat, but found the task more difficult and haz- 
 ardous than that I had already encountered. I 
 was now perched on a narrow ledge of a rock, 
 about a hundred feet below the edge of the 
 cliff, and nearly the same height above the ocean. 
 To turn myself round, I found to be impossible ; 
 there was no hand to help, no eye to pity, no 
 voice to soothe. My spirits began to fail. I saw 
 nothing before me but inevitable destruction, and 
 dreaded the moment when I should be dashed in 
 pieces upon the rocks below. At length, by creep- 
 ing backward about one-eighth of an inch at a 
 step, I reached a nook where I was able to turn, 
 and happily succeeded in escaping the destruction 
 which I had dreaded." 
 
 This was not his last adventure that nearly ter- 
 minated with the loss of life. He had a certain 
 amount of shrewdness and cunning in his compo- 
 sition that predisposed him for speculation and 
 adventure. This was, no doubt, induced to a large 
 extent by the dissatisfaction he felt at the menial 
 drudgery to which he was subjected by his mis- 
 tress. This naturally induced him to seek com- 
 panionship from home, there being no love or at- 
 traction at home. The result was that he formed 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 25 
 
 tlie acquaintance of the idle and dissolute, and be- 
 ca,me, as a consequence, vicious and morally de- 
 based. At this time Cornwall was celebrated for 
 the nimiber of smugglers to be found on the coast. 
 It would have been strange indeed if Samuel, with 
 his love of adventure and course of reading, had 
 not connected himself with these domestic free- 
 booters. Of course his absence on these occasions 
 was without the knowledge or consent of his mas- 
 ter. But the boy who was only deterred from 
 joining Paul Jones because he had no money or 
 clothes, would not hesitate to run a cargo of 
 French goods or foreign spirits, without much 
 fear either of master or revenue officer. Samuel's 
 respect for his master would be considerably dim- 
 inished from the fact that he took no means to 
 teach him his business; this, conjoined to the 
 treatment of his mistress, who seemed to view 
 him as the most abject menial, would necessarily 
 render him callous and intractable. One of his 
 early associates remarked: "I believe Sam was 
 a difficult boy to manage ; but he was made worse 
 by the treatment he received. I was once in the 
 shop, when, for a very small offence, his master 
 struck him violently with the last, and maimed 
 him for a time. Such usage only made him surly, 
 and caused him to dislike his master and his 
 work." This treatment determined him to leave 
 his master ; when he did so, his funds were only 
 sixteenpence halfpenny! He subsequently thus 
 describes his adventure : " I thought of traveling 
 
26 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 to Plymouth, to seek a berth on board a king's 
 ship. Instead of taking the short road, where I 
 feared my father might fall in with me, I went on 
 toward Liskeard, through the night, and, feeling 
 fatigued, went into a hayfield and slept. My lug- 
 gage was no incumbrance, as the whole of my 
 property, besides the clothes I wore, was con- 
 tained in a small handkerchief. Not knowing how 
 long I should have to depend upon my slender 
 stock of cash, I found it necessary to use the most 
 rigid economy. Having to pay a halfpenny for 
 passing either a ferry or toll-bridge, feeling my 
 present situation, and knowing nothing of my fu- 
 ture prospects, this small call upon my funds dis- 
 tressed me ; I wept as I went on my way ; and, 
 even to the present time, I feel a pang when I re- 
 collect the circumstance. 
 
 " The exertion of walking, and the fresh morn- 
 ing air, gave me a keener appetite than I thought 
 it prudent to indulge. I, however, bought a penny 
 loaf at the first place I passed where bread was 
 sold, and, with a halfpennyworth of milk, in a 
 farmer's house, ate half of my loaf for breakfast. 
 In passing through Liskeard, my attention w^as at- 
 tracted by a shoemaker's shop, in the door of which 
 a respectable-looking man, whom I supposed to be 
 the master, w^as standing. Without any intention 
 of seeking employment in this place, I asked him 
 if he could give me w^ork ; and he, taking com- 
 passion, I suppose, on my sorry appearance, 
 promised to employ me the next morning. Be- 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 27 
 
 fore I could go to work tools were necessary, and 
 I was obliged to lay out a shilling on these. Din- 
 ner, under such circumstances, was out of the 
 question ; for supper I bought another halfpenny- 
 worth of milk, ate the remainder of my loaf, and 
 for my lodging again had recourse to the fields. 
 In the morning I purchased another penny loaf, 
 and commenced my labor. My employer soon 
 found that I was a miserable tool ; yet he treated 
 me kindly, and his son took me beside him in the 
 shop, and gave me instruction. I had now but one 
 penny left, and this I wished to husband till my 
 labor brought a supply ; so, for dinner I tied my 
 apron-strmg tighter, and went on with my work. 
 My abstinence subjected me to the jeers of my 
 shopmates, thus rendering the pangs of hunger 
 doubly bitter. One of them, I remember, said to 
 another, ' Where does our shopmate dine ?' and 
 the response was, ' Oh ! he always dines at the 
 sign of the mouth.' Half of the penny loaf which 
 I took with me in the morning I had allotted for 
 my supper ; but before night came, I had pinched 
 it nearly all away in mouthfuls, through mere 
 hunger. Very reluctantly, I laid out my last 
 penny, and, with no enviable feelings, sought my 
 former lodging in the open air. With no other 
 breakfast than the fragments of my last loaf, I 
 again sat dow^n to work. At dinner time — look- 
 ing, no doubt, very much famished — my master 
 kindly said, ' If you wish, I will let you have a 
 little money on account ;' an offer which I very 
 
28 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 joyfully accepted. This was, however, my last 
 day's employment here. Discovering that I was a 
 runaway apprentice, my new master dismissed me, 
 with a recommendation to return to the old one ; 
 and while he was talking, my brother came to the 
 door with a horse to take me home." 
 
 He only returned, however, on the condition 
 that he should not be expected to resume work 
 with his old master, with whom arrangements 
 were subsequently made, and Samuel's indentures 
 cancelled. After staying at home for a few months, 
 work was obtained for him with Mr. Williams, at 
 Millbrook. This place was more congenial to 
 Samuel's tastes and disposition. It was remark- 
 able for the stir and bustle which pervaded it, 
 being a naval station of some importance. He 
 was also more comfortable in his situation ; there 
 was a number of workmen employed, and the 
 work was neat and various — a great contrast to 
 the solitary state and rough work of his foi-mer 
 situation. Owing to his being, as he calls himself, 
 " a wretched tool at the trade," his average weekly 
 earnings was not more than eight shillings. He 
 had great need, therefore, not only to exercise 
 diligence in his calling, but the most rigid econ- 
 omy. He used in after-years to say, that Liskeard 
 was not the only place where he had tied his 
 aj^ron-string tighter for a dinner. 
 
 He remained in this situation about a year. His 
 shopmates regretted his leaving. One of them 
 said afterward; "I very well remember that in 
 
Samuel Drew's Perilous Adventure with the Smu^g] 
 
 ers. 
 Page 29. 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 29 
 
 our disputes, those who could get Sam Drew on 
 their side always made sure of victory ; and he 
 had so much good humor and drollery that we all 
 liked him, and were very sorry when he went 
 away." 
 
 The reason of his removal was owing to one of 
 his smuggling adventures, which nearly terminated 
 fatally. " Notice was given throughout Craft- 
 hole, one evening about the month of December, 
 1784, that a vessel laden with contraband goods 
 was on the coast, and would be ready that night to 
 discharge her cargo. At nightfall Samuel, with 
 others, made toward the port. One party re- 
 mained on the rocks, to make signals and dispose 
 of the goods when landed ; the other, of which he 
 was one, manned the boats. The night was in- 
 tensely dark, and but little progress had been made 
 in discharging the vessel's cargo, when the wind 
 rose, with a heavy sea. To prevent their vessel 
 being diiven on the rocks, the seamen found it 
 necessary to stand off from the port, thus increas- 
 ing the hazard of the boatmen. Unfavorable as 
 these circumstances were, all seemed resolved to 
 persevere ; and several trips were made between 
 the vessel and the shore. The wind continuing to 
 increase, one of the men belonging to the boat in 
 which Samuel sat had his hat blown off, and in 
 striving to recover it, upset the boat. Three of 
 the men were immediately drowned : Samuel and 
 two or three others clung to the boat for a consid- 
 erable time J but, finding that it was drifting 
 
30 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 from the port, they were obliged to abandon it, 
 and sustain themselves by swimming. They were 
 now about two miles from the shore, and the dark- 
 ness prevented them from ascertaining its direction. 
 Samuel had given himself up as lost, when he laid 
 hold of a mass of seaweed, which afforded him a 
 temporary support. At length he approached 
 some rocks near the shore, upon which he and two 
 of the men — the only survivors of seven — suc- 
 ceeded in getting; but they were so benumbed 
 with cold, and so much exhausted with their ex- 
 ertion and swimming, that it was with the utmost 
 difficulty they could maintain their position against 
 the force of the sea, which sometimes broke over 
 them. Their perilous situation was not unper- 
 ceived by their companions ; yet their calls for 
 help, if heard, were for a long time disregarded. 
 When the vessel had delivered her cargo, and put 
 to sea, a boat was despatched to take them off; 
 and now, finding in what condition Samuel and 
 his wrecked companions were, after having been 
 three hours in the water, and half of that time 
 swimming about, the others endeavored to com- 
 pensate, by a show of kindness, for their previous 
 inhumanity. Life being nearly extinct, the suf- 
 ferers were carried to a neighboring farm-house, 
 and the inmates compelled by threats to admit 
 them. A fire was kindled on the hearth, and fresh 
 faggots piled on it, while the half-drowned men, 
 who were placed in a recess of the chimney, un- 
 able to relieve themselves, were compelled to en- 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 31 
 
 dure the excessive heat which their ignorant com- 
 panions thought necessary to restore animation. 
 One of the party, supposing, too, that fire within 
 would not be less efficacious than fire without, 
 and believing brandy to be a universal remedy, 
 brought a keg of it from the cargo landed, and, 
 with the characteristic recklessness of a sailor and 
 a smuggler, knocked in the head with a hatchet, 
 and presented them with a bowlful. " Whether," 
 said Mr. Drew, subsequently, " we drank of it or 
 not, I do not know : certainly not to the extent 
 recommended, or I should not now be alive to tell 
 the tale. My first sensation was that of extreme 
 cold. Although half-roasted, it was a long while 
 before I felt the fire, that burnt my legs, and oc- 
 casioned wounds, the marks of which I shall carry 
 to my grave. After leaving the farm-house, I had 
 to walk about two miles, through deep snow, to 
 my lodgings. When I think of the complicated 
 perils of that night, I am astonished I ever sur- 
 vived them." 
 
 When he heard of the adventure, his father ex- 
 claimed : " Alas ! what will be the end of my poor 
 unhappy boy ?" In order to secure him against 
 any future like temptation, he procured him em- 
 ployment with a saddler in St. Austell, who was 
 commencing the shoemaking business. He went 
 to this new situation in the January of 1785, be- 
 ing then in his twentieth year. At this period he 
 says : " I was scarcely able to read, and almost to- 
 tally unable to write. Literature was a term to 
 
32 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 which I could annex no idea. Grammar I knew 
 not the meaning of. I was expert at follies, acute 
 in trifles, and ingenious about nonsense. My mas- 
 ter was by trade a saddler, had acquired some 
 knowledge of bookbinding, and hired me to carry 
 on the shoemaking for him. He was one of those 
 men who will live anywhere, but will get rich no- 
 where. His shop was frequented by persons of a 
 more respectable class than those with whom I 
 had previously associated, and various topics be- 
 came alternately the subjects of conversation. I 
 listened with all that attention which my labors 
 and good manners would permit, and obtained 
 among them some little knowledge. Sometimes, 
 when disputes ran high, I was appealed to ; this 
 acted as a stimulus. I examined dictionaries, 
 picked up many words, and, from an attachment 
 which I felt to books, which were occasionally 
 brought to the shop to be bound, I began to have 
 some view of the various theories with which they 
 abounded. The more I read the more I felt my 
 own ignorance — the more invincible became my 
 energy to surmount it. Every leisure moment 
 was now employed in reading one thing or other. 
 Having to support myself by manual labor, my 
 time for reading was but little, and to overcome this 
 disadvantage, my usual method was to place a 
 book before me while at meat, and at every repast 
 I read five or six pages. The custom has not for- 
 saken me at the present moment." 
 
 He continues : "After having worked with this 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 33 
 
 master several months, a neighboring gentleman 
 brought Locke's 'Essay on the Understanding,' 
 to be bound ; I had' never seen or heard of this 
 work before. I took an occasion to look into it, 
 and I thought his mode of reasoning very pleas- 
 ing, and his arguments exceedingly strong. I 
 watched all opportunities of reading for myself 
 and would willingly have labored a fortnight to 
 have the books. I had then no conception they 
 could be obtained for money. They were, how- 
 ever, soon carried away, and with them all my 
 future improvement by their means. The close 
 and decisive manner of Mr. Locke's reasoning 
 made on my mind an impression too deep to be 
 easily effaced ; and though I did not see his essay 
 again for many years, yet the early impression was 
 not forgotten, and it is from this accidental cir- 
 cumstance that I received my first bias for abstruse 
 subjects. 
 
 " Locke's essay set all my soul to think, to fear, 
 and to reason from all without and from all within. 
 It gave the first metaphysical turn to my mind ; and 
 I cultivated the little knowledge of writing which 
 I had acquired, in order to put down my reflec- 
 tions. It awakened me from my stupor, and in- 
 duced me to form a resolution to abandon the 
 groveling views which I had been accustomed to 
 entertain. In my new situation I found myself 
 surrounded with books of various descriptions, and 
 felt my taste for the acquirement of information 
 return with renewed vigor, and increase in propor- 
 3 
 
84 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 tion to tlie means of indulgence, which were now 
 placed fully within my reach. But here some new 
 difficulties occurred, with which I found it painful 
 to grapple. My knowledge of the import of words 
 was as contracted as my ideas were scanty : so 
 that I found it necessary to keep a dictionary con- 
 tinually by my side whilst I was reading, to which 
 I was compelled constantly to refer. This was a 
 tedious process. But in a little time the difficulty 
 wore away, and my horizon of knowledge became 
 enlarged." 
 
 What were the books that Drew read at this 
 time little is known. 'No doubt, Hke other readers, 
 he read pretty much all that came in his way. 
 The first book, however, which he owned was the 
 " Pilgrim's Progress," by that glorious dreamer — 
 John Bunyan. Its perusal afforded him, as it has 
 afforded tens of thousands, constant and increasing 
 delight. 
 
 About this time Samuel commenced business 
 on his own account. He had only fourteen shil- 
 lings of his own ; a friend, however, who had 
 urged him to commence, said, " I'll lend you five 
 pounds upon the security of your good character, 
 and more if that is not enough ; and I'll promise 
 not to demand it till you can conveniently pay 
 me." Samuel, on taking this important step, de- 
 termined to adopt Dr. Franklin's maxims in his 
 " Way to Wealth." He worked eighteen hours 
 out of the twenty-four, and sometimes longer ; his 
 friends found him plenty of work, but imtil the 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 35 
 
 bills could be sent to his customers, he had no 
 means to employ a journeyman. At the end of the 
 year he had the satisfaction to know that he stood 
 clear, the five pounds repaid, and a tolerable stock 
 of leather on hand. Industry and economy had 
 removed the necessity of going to bed supperless 
 to avoid rising in debt ; in addition to which, he 
 was now enabled to gratify his desire for the 
 acquisition of knowledge. The assistance which 
 he was able to obtain in his business enabled him 
 to devote to study the ordinary leisure of a com- 
 mon workman ; this was all he desired. He says : 
 '' In this situation, I felt an internal vigor prompt- 
 ing me to exertion, but I was unable to determine 
 what direction I should take. The sciences lay 
 before me. I discovered a charm in each, but was 
 unable to embrace them all, and hesitated in 
 making a selection. I had learned that, 
 
 * One science only will one genius fit, 
 So vast is art, so narrow human wit.' 
 
 " At first, I felt such an attachment to astronomy, 
 that I resolved to confine my view^s to the study 
 of that science ; but I soon found myself too de- 
 fective in arithmetic to make any proficiency. 
 Modem history was my next object ; but I quick- 
 ly discovered that more books and time were ne- 
 cessary than I could either purchase or spare, and 
 on this account history was abandoned. In the 
 region of metaphysics I saw neither of the above 
 impediments. It appeared to be a thorny path ; 
 
36 FAMOTJS BOYS. 
 
 but I determined, nevertheless, to enter, and ac- 
 cordingly began to tread it." On being asked, 
 subsequently, if he had not studied astronomy, he 
 said : " I once had a very great desire for it, for I 
 thought it suitable to the genius of my mind, and 
 I think so still : but then, 
 
 * Chill penury repress'd the noble rage, 
 And froze the genial current of the soul.' 
 
 Dangers and difficulties I did not fear, while I 
 could bring the powers of my mind to bear upon 
 them, and force myself a passage. To metaphysics 
 I then applied myself, and became what the world 
 and my good friend Dr. Clarke call a Metaphysi- 
 cian." 
 
 Besides this study, he had contracted a love for 
 the discussion of the absorbing politics of the day. 
 The American war was at that time occupying a 
 large part of public attention. Drew entered so 
 deeply in the discussion that he could not have 
 been more interested if his livelihood had depend- 
 ed upon the issue. The neighbors crowded into 
 his shop, and he went into his neighbors' with no 
 other intention than to discuss the news. To 
 make up for this loss of time, he had frequently 
 to work until midnight. One night, when he was 
 so engaged, some youngster shouted through the 
 keyhole of the door, " Shoemaker ! shoemaker ! 
 work by night, and run about by day !" " Had a 
 pistol," said Drew, " been fired off at my ear, I 
 could not have been more dismayed or confounded. 
 
SAMUEL DKEW. 37 
 
 I dropped my work, saying to myself, ' True, true ! 
 but you shall never have that to say of me again.' 
 I have never forgotten it ; and while I recollect 
 any thing, I never shall. To me it was as the 
 voice of God, and it has been a word in season 
 throughout my life. I learned from it not to leave 
 till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle when 
 I ought to be working. From that time I turned 
 over a new leaf. I ceased to venture on the rest- 
 less sea of politics, or trouble myself about matters 
 which did not concern me." 
 
 " During several years," he further wrote, " all 
 my leisure-hours were devoted to reading or scrib- 
 bling any thing which happened to pass my mind ; 
 but I do not recollect that it ever interrupted my 
 business, though it frequently broke in upon my 
 rest. On my labor depended my livelihood — 
 literary pursuits were only my amusement. Com- 
 mon prudence had taught me the lesson which 
 Marmontel has so happily expressed : * Secure to 
 yourself a livelihood independent of literary suc- 
 cess, and put into the lottery only the overplus of 
 time. Woe to him who depends wholly on his 
 pen! Nothing is more casual. The man who 
 makes shoes is sure of his wages — the man who 
 writes a book is never sur^ of any thing.' " 
 
 The books he read at this time were Milton, 
 Young, and Cowper ; Pope's Ethical Epistles he 
 frequently perused, and Goldsmith's works he 
 highly valued, having committed to memory the 
 whole of the " Deserted Village." The knowledge 
 
38 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 he thus received he would frequently turn OA^er 
 with his own Avorkmen, rendering that plain and 
 palpable which was difficult and abstruse. In 
 April, 1791, he married the daughter of Jacob 
 Halls, of St. Austell, on which occasion it is re- 
 corded that his wedding-coat was " as good as 
 new, of a plum color, with bright buttons, very 
 little worn, and quite a bargain." He was now 
 esteemed as a respectable tradesman, and had ex- 
 ercised his ability as a local preacher among the 
 Wesleyans, amongst whom he had become very 
 popular. 
 
 His first literary effort was a poetical epistle to 
 his sister, which Avas followed by several other 
 metrical compositions. His manner of study he 
 has himself related : " During my literary pursuits 
 I regularly and constantly attended my business, 
 and do not recollect that one customer was ever 
 disappointed by me through these means. My 
 mode of Av*riting and study may haA^e in them, per- 
 haps, something peculiar. Immersed in the com- 
 mon concerns of life, I endeavored to lift my 
 thoughts to objects more sublime than those with 
 Avhich I am surrounded, and, Avhile attending to 
 my trade, I sometimes catch the fibres of an argu- 
 ment, which I endeavor to note, and keep a pen 
 and ink by me for that purpose. In this state, 
 what I can collect through the day remains on any 
 paper which I have at hand, till the business of the 
 day is despatched, and my shop shut, when, in the 
 midst of my family, I endeavor to analyse such 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 39 
 
 thoughts as had crossed my mind during the day. 
 I have no study — I have no retirement — I write 
 amidst the cries and cradles of my children, and 
 frequently, when I review what I have written, 
 endeavor to cultivate the ' art to blot.' Such are 
 the methods which I have pursued, and such the 
 disadvantages under which I write." He usually 
 sat on a low nursing chair by the kitchen fire, with 
 the bellows on his knees for a desk I 
 
 Samuel was first induced to become an author in 
 consequence of a friend, a young surgeon, imbibing 
 the principles of Voltaire, Rousseau, Gibbon, and 
 Hume. With this gentleman Samuel had debates 
 from time to time, the groundwork being the 
 newly published "Age of Reason," by Paine. 
 These discussions ultimately resulted in the gentle- 
 man's renouncing his infidel opinions, and his ac- 
 ceptance of the truth of revelation. Drew having 
 committed the arguments to paper, as the debate 
 proceeded, at the conclusion submitted the M S. 
 to two competent friends, who advised their im- 
 mediate publication, which was done. The publi- 
 cation of this pamphlet secured him many warmly 
 attached friends. His next venture was an elegiac 
 poem, which, owing to local circumstance, became 
 very popular. But poetry was certainly not 
 Samuel's forte. At this time the Rev. Richard 
 Polwhele, Vicar of Manaccan, Cornwall, had issued 
 a little work : " Anecdotes of Methodism," which 
 was a very severe and unwarranted attack upon 
 that body of Christians. Samuel answered the 
 
40 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 book. The result was one of the severest and 
 justly merited castigations that a religious libeller 
 ever received. Polwhele was not only silenced, 
 but he afterward became a warm friend and ad- 
 mirer of Drew. When Samuel published his great 
 work, " Essay on the Soul," which was the next 
 printed after the " Reply," Polwhele reviewed the 
 work in the " Anti-jacobin Review." This sponta- 
 neous act redounded to his credit as a scholar and 
 a Christian. Drew, by his publications, had now 
 established himself as an author of some repute. 
 A visit to " the metaphysical shoemaker " was 
 deemed an essential by all strangers. Drew was 
 not much puffed up by this public notice. He said : 
 "These gentlemen certainly honor me by their 
 yisits ; but I do not forget that many of them 
 merely wish to say, that they have seen the cobbler 
 who wrote a book." 
 
 Drew was next engaged upon his largest work 
 — his essay on the " Identity and Resurrection of 
 the Human Body." This occupied a considerable 
 amount of time, was written and rewritten, and 
 was, before publication, submitted to the criticism 
 and examination of the members of the London 
 Philological Society. Eight hundred copies were 
 at once subscribed for, the author receiving five 
 hundred copies for the copyright. When it was 
 published only one or two reviews appeared. 
 This, as it was subsequently found, was not owing 
 to any slight on the part of the editors of the 
 serials of the time, but owing to the absence of 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 41 
 
 persons capable to enter into the spirit of the work. 
 One London bookseller actually wrote to Drew re- 
 questing him to review his own work. To this re- 
 quest he made answer: "Such things may be 
 among the tricks of trade, but never will I soil 
 my fingers by meddling with them. My work shall 
 honestly meet its fate. If it be praised, I shall 
 doubtless be gratified — if censured, instructed; 
 if it drop still born from the press, I will endeavor 
 to be contented." It was soon after the publica- 
 tion of this work that Mr. Drew was elected a 
 member of the Manchester Philological Society. 
 The next year witnessed Drew withdrawing from 
 the shoemaking with the intention of devoting 
 himself exclusively to literature. His first work 
 was in connection with Dr. Coke, whom he as- 
 sisted in finishing his " Commentary on the Bible,*' 
 his "History of the West Indies," and other 
 works. In 1806 Drew commenced to write for 
 the "Eclectic Review," on the recommendation 
 of Dr. Clarke. In 1812, Mr. Drew competed for 
 the Burnet prize on the "Being and Attributes 
 of the Deity." He was not successful, however. 
 The first prize was awarded to Dr. Brown, then 
 Principal of Marischal College ; and the second 
 prize to Dr. Sumner, afterward Bishop of Chester. 
 Mr. Drew's essay was afterward published in 
 two octavo volumes, and an edition of a thousand 
 copies sold. 
 
 It will now only be needful, in this rapid sketch of 
 this wonderful self-taught man, to merely indicate 
 
4:2 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 his subsequent labors. First, then, he was en- 
 gaged to write a "History of Cornwall," and 
 then a "Life of Dr. Coke," at that divine's spe- 
 cial request; then he assumed the entire editor- 
 fillip of the "Imperial Magazine," published by 
 Mr. Fisher in Liverpool, where Mr. Drew then re- 
 sided. Li 1821, the degree of A. M. was conferred 
 upon Mr. Drew by Marischal College, Aberdeen. 
 This mark of favor and appreciation of ability was 
 alike honorable to the college and Mr. Drew. In 
 1831, the council of the London L^niversity solicited 
 him to allow himself to be nominated as Professor 
 of Moral Philosophy in that institution. He de- 
 clined, on the ground of his desire to settle down 
 in his own native county for the remainder of his 
 days. His incessant literary employment had ma- 
 terially weakened a constitution which must at 
 one time have been as strong as iron. During 
 the summer of 1831, Mr. Drew visited his native 
 place ; he had fixed this as the time to retire from 
 his editorial labors, but for the benefit of his chil- 
 dren resolved to continue for two years more — a 
 resolve which no doubt helped to hasten his final 
 departure. After endeavoring to fulfil faithfully 
 his engagements for a little while longer, illness 
 overtook him. He died, as he desired, in his native 
 county, on the 29th of March, 1833. 
 
 So ended the life of one of England's greatest 
 worthies ! ^o, not ended ; his life is still stored 
 up in the books he wrote, which are as imperisha- 
 ble as his name. He has left a torch, in the bright 
 
SAMUEL DREW. 43 
 
 example of his life, which will cheer many a des- 
 ponding student in the monotony of his daily 
 tasks ; and when the humble Christian is assailed 
 by the sophistries of the infidel and the sceptic, he 
 will find his best defence in the unanswered argu- 
 ments of the giant shoemaker. Cornwall has 
 reason to be proud of such a son, and England, 
 that she was privileged to give birth to such a 
 man. 
 
EENJAMEsT FEANKLOT. 
 
 The life of Franklin is one of the most extraor- 
 dinary instances on record of what can be accom- 
 plished by study, resolution, and a conscientious 
 nurture of the faculties. He was born in an hum- 
 ble sphere ; he began his career as an apprentice ; 
 he mastered almost all the branches of knowledge, 
 aided alone by his own perseverance and deter- 
 mination ; and he rose to become the arbiter of 
 nations, the companion of sovereigns ; he ascended 
 step by step from the humble printer's apprentice 
 to a position the most exalted of any in the w^orld. 
 As a philosopher his fame spread to the uttermost 
 ends of the earth ; as a diplomat he received the 
 hearing of the most polished court in Europe, and 
 successfully conducted the affairs of his country 
 through perplexities and difficulties of the most 
 trying kind ; and as a patriot he became the loved 
 and admired of all virtuous and honorable men 
 everywhere. 
 
 Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston on the 
 IVth of January, 1706. His father was a tallow- 
 chandler. Benjamin was the youngest of seventeen 
 children ; a surprisingly quick and precocious child, 
 
BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 45 
 
 evincing at a very early day an avidity for books. 
 He was first designed for the church, but his 
 father's means being inadequate for his education, 
 at ten years of age he was taken from school, and 
 j)laced in the establishment of his father. But 
 cutting wicks for candles, filling moulds, going 
 errands, and similar drudgery, disgusted the young 
 Benjamin ; and his father, yielding to his wishes, 
 Apprenticed him to a cutler. Here he remained 
 only a short time, for the required fee being too 
 much for the elder Franklin's purse, he was re- 
 moved, and indentured to his brother James, a 
 printer. This was probably fortunate for Benj amin, 
 as it encouraged his taste for reading, and ofi*ered 
 him opportunities for exercising it. He began at 
 once, indeed, by borrowing books from booksellers, 
 apprentices, and frequently, in order to return the 
 borrowed volume by morning, he would sit up all 
 night to finish it. In fact, his thirst for books was 
 imquenchable. He devoured whatever came in his 
 way, and, even at that early period, was inspired 
 with a desire to excel in literary composition. As 
 rejnarkable proof of his fondness for study, it is 
 stated that, meeting with a book recommending 
 vegetable diet, its great cheaj^ness determined him 
 at once to adopt it. He bargained with his brother 
 to give him half the sum that his board had hither- 
 to cost to support him, and the amount thus saved 
 was appropriated to the purchase of books. Which 
 one of the young readers of this sketch would be 
 willing to practice a self-denial of this kind for such 
 
46 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 a purpose ? But Franklin's whole life was one of 
 self-denial; he denied himself all luxuries and 
 many pleasures — he asjm-ed to be famous and to be 
 wise and good, and to reach this great height he 
 was willing to labor hard, and to give up most of 
 the recreations and pleasures common to youth. 
 His mind was all ; his body was but little. His 
 mind craved and thirsted for food, and to supply its 
 demands, he was ready and eager even to starve his 
 body. Certainly this was very wonderful in a boy. 
 But nothing but wonderful resolution like this could 
 lift a poor ignorant apprentice boy up to the level 
 of kings — up to be a statesman, a philosopher, and 
 a philanthropist. 
 
 Benjamin's studious habits attracted the atten- 
 tion of a merchant, who was frequently about the 
 printing-office, and who, desiring to facilitate his 
 pursuit of knowledge, gave him the privilege of 
 his library. This was of course a great thing for 
 Franklin, and he availed himself of it with his 
 accustomed energy and industry. About this time 
 Franklin made his first essay at composition, which 
 was poetry. This so pleased his brother James, 
 that he induced him to write two ballads, which, 
 on being printed, he sent him to sell about the 
 streets. Imagine Benjamin Franklin hawking bal- 
 lads about the streets ! Think of him at Paris 
 the companion of wits, poets, philosophers, states- 
 men ; the delight and admiration of the court and 
 the queen ; think of him at London dictating to 
 the British government the terms of peace and in- 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 47 
 
 dependence for his country ; tliink of him aston- 
 ishing the philosophers and schools of the world 
 with his ex})eriments with the lightning ; think of 
 him, I say, in these great scenes, and then let your 
 mind run back to the little printer's boy selling 
 ballads in the streets ! Is it not wonderful ? 
 
 His brother published a newspaper entitled 
 t%e New England Gourant. This brought liter- 
 ary men of Boston to the printing-office, where 
 Franklin heard them discussing the merits of the 
 different articles that appeared. This tempted 
 him to try his own powers, and having for a long 
 time studied the best English models with the view 
 of forming a correct and elegant style, he wrote a 
 paper in a disguised hand, and put it at night under 
 the door. On being submitted to the Boston 
 critics, it met with particular approval, and in their 
 guesses at the author, no one was mentioned but 
 men of some mark in the town. Think of Benja- 
 min's exquisite pleasure as he stood by his case, 
 overhearing their praises of his composition, and 
 attributing his effort to men of learning and abili- 
 ty! He tried his hand at other papers, and the 
 unknown contributions became the surmise and 
 talk of the office. Benjamin could not keep in his 
 secret, and at last let it out. His brother, how- 
 ever, instead of being delighted at this evidence 
 of talent, received the intelligence with jealous dis- 
 trust. A good deal of unhappiness resulted, and the 
 two brothers ceased to be friends. The elder op- 
 pressed Benjamin, and often struck him, until, at 
 
4:8 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 last, young Franklin's situation becoming intoler- 
 able, he abruptly left Boston, and started secretly 
 for Xew York. In that city he was unable to get 
 employment, and he proceeded on to Philadelphia, 
 where he arrived hungry, sorefooted, and travel- 
 stained. His first visit was to the baker's, where 
 he purchased three rolls, one of which he placed 
 under each arm, eating the other through the 
 principal streets. A draught of water from the 
 river completed his frugal meal. Observing many 
 well-dressed people all going in the same direction, 
 he joined them, and was led into a Quaker meet- 
 ing-house. He sat down, and soon feeling drowsy, 
 fell asleep, and continued so until the meeting 
 breaking up, some one aroused him. 
 
 He now sought for employment, and after some 
 delays and difficulties, was employed by a printer 
 named Keimer, who sent him to lodge at the house 
 of a Mr. Read. This gentleman's daughter he 
 fell in love with, and afterward married. Acci- 
 dentally a letter written by him to a brother-in-law, 
 defending and explaining his conduct in leaving 
 Boston, fell into the hands of Sir William Keith, 
 governor of the province, who was so much struck 
 with its force and clearness, that he introduced 
 himself to Franklin, and promised, as the printers 
 of Philadelphia were very poor ones, to set him 
 up there. Thus incited, he made a voyage to 
 Boston, with a letter from the governor to his 
 father, recommending the undertaking; but the 
 old chandler did not approve of the plan — he 
 
BENJA^riN FRANKLIN. 49 
 
 feared that the lad was too young and inex- 
 perienced, and he, therefore, refused to advance 
 any capital for the purpose. But the governor was 
 not discouraged, and, upon Benjamin's return to 
 Philadelphia, still insisted on his plan, and even 
 promised him money to procure all necessary mate- 
 rials from England. It was at last arranged that 
 Franklin should proceed to England for that pur- 
 pose, and the governor gave him letters of credit 
 to the amount of a hundred pounds. 
 
 On arriving in England, Benjamin discovered to 
 his horror and dismay that the letters of credit 
 were utterly worthless. Thus again did the youth 
 find himself penniless in a strange city, with no 
 dependence but his trade and his habits of in- 
 dustry. He began his search for work at once, 
 and was employed by a printer in Bartholomew 
 Close, in whose employ he remained for a year. 
 At the end of that period, he was offered a clerk- 
 ship in a store in Philadelphia, and, being anxious 
 to return to his native country, he accepted the 
 offer with alacrity. Six months after his return 
 his employer died, the business was broken up, 
 and he returned to his old trade of printing. He 
 Boon succeeded in establishing a business, and 
 undertook the management of a newspaper. 
 
 He received the appointment of printer to the 
 House of Assembly, and, in 1736, was elected its 
 clerk. Soon after this he was chosen one of the 
 Common Council, and at a later period to the hon- 
 orary position of Alderman, and also Representa- 
 4 
 
50 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 I. 
 
 tiv€ in the Assembly. Thus we see his greatness 
 beginning to dawn. He is no longer selling songs, 
 denying himself food to obtain books, laboring 
 and studying in obscurity and poverty ; he is pros- 
 perous, his abilities are noted, his studious hours 
 begin to bear fruit ; he is on that upward career 
 wherein he becomes one of the giants of the age ; 
 a peer with the greatest ; a monument which is to 
 loom up to the gaze and admiration of all coming 
 generations. 
 
 It was in the year 1 746 that Franklin's atten- 
 tion was directed to those electrical studies which 
 led to the discovery of the great theory of elec- 
 tricity, or rather of the identity of this fluid with 
 lightning. He met at Boston one Dr. Spence, a 
 Scottish lecturer who was exhibiting some electri- 
 cal apparatus and performing various curious experi- 
 ments. These experiments were clumsy, but they 
 excited the curiosity of Franklin, who began to 
 inquire into the nature and causes of the pheno- 
 mena he had witnessed. After a great many ex- 
 periments he developed his theory of electricity, 
 and a brilliant discovery rewarded the philosopher 
 for his hours of patient thought and investigation. 
 It had been surmised for a long time that electri- 
 city and lightning were identical, but the fact had 
 never been demonstrated. Convinced that they 
 were the same fluid, he set about to prove it to 
 the satisfaction of the most sceptical. At first he 
 thought he might make some experiments from a 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 51 
 
 high steeple, or spire, but there was no such thing 
 in the city. He then sought for other projections, 
 but none could be discovered of sufficient height. 
 One day while walking and meditating upon the 
 theme, he observed a little boy with great glee 
 watching the movements of his kite far up in the 
 sky. In an instant the idea struck him that here 
 was a method of reaching the clouds. He went 
 home and constructed a kite of silk, and awaited 
 the next thunderstorm. This was in June 1752. 
 At the first indications of a storm he went into 
 the fields with his kite and raised it. To the lower 
 end of the string he fastened a key, and insulated 
 it by attaching it to a post with silk threads. For 
 some time he could detect no effect ; he was be 
 ginning to despair, when to his joy he observed 
 some loose ends of the hempen strings rise and 
 stand erect, indicating that they were under the 
 influence of the electric fluid. He offered his 
 knuckles to the key, and to his almost speechless 
 delight drew forth the well-known electric spark — 
 proving at once the identity of lightning with 
 electricity. As the rain increased and the string 
 became a better conductor, the key gave out 
 copious streams of electricity. By this simple ex- 
 periment Franklin solved the great philosophical 
 problem of the day, although the discovery was 
 at first ridiculed and denounced as absurd by 
 many. His paper on the subject when read before 
 the English Royal Society was received with deri- 
 
52 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 sion and laughter ; but the subject soon attracting 
 the attention of the philosophers of the continent, 
 the members of the Royal Society were induced 
 to reconsider the matter, and having verified the 
 discovery by experiments of their own, made 
 haste to make amends, electing him a member, and 
 presenting him with a medal, which is a very 
 encouraging circumstance to recollect. When we 
 know we are right it is best to take no heed of the 
 world's ridicule and laughter. There is an old 
 adage, you know — "Let those laugh who win." 
 In addition to this membership, a great many 
 honorary degrees were conferred upon him. His 
 fame as a philosopher was spread through the 
 world; but the time was now fast approaching 
 when his even greater fame as a statesman was to 
 extend throughout all the civilized globe. 
 
 The reader is, of course, acquainted with all the 
 great events of the Revolution ; and the splendid 
 parts acted in them by Washington and Frank- 
 lin. While Washington was fighting our battles 
 for us at home, Franklin was abroad securing 
 fujjds, negotiating treaties, obtaining loans, and 
 otherwise advancing the cause of American Inde- 
 pendence. In 1783, he had the satisfaction of 
 signing the Treaty of Peace between the United 
 States and Great Britain, he having been appointed 
 a Commissioner for that purpose. In 1785, he re- 
 turned to his native country, where great honors 
 awaited him; and on the 17th of April, 1790, he 
 died, aged eighty-four years and three months. 
 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 53 
 
 Thus full of years and honors died this remarkable 
 man, the most striking example, perhaps, on re- 
 cord of what energy, virtue, and industry will ac- 
 complish in advancing the fortunes of their pos- 
 sessor. 
 
KOBEET BUENS. 
 
 Robert Burns was one of the greatest poets that 
 ever was formed merely or chiefly by the discipline 
 of self-tuition ; and is also considered, without refer- 
 ence to his poetical powers, another striking exam- 
 ple of what a man may do in educating himself, 
 and acquiring an extensive acquaintance with liter- 
 ature while occupying a very humble rank in so- 
 ciety, and even struggling with the miseries of the 
 most cruel indigence. 
 
 Burns has himself given us a sketch of his early 
 life, in a letter to Dr. Moore. His father, a man 
 of a decidedly superior mind, and with even some- 
 thing of Hterary acquirement beyond his station, 
 had led a life of hard labor and poverty ; and at 
 the time of his son Robert's birth, (January 25th, 
 1759,) was employed as gardener by a gentleman 
 in the neighborhood of the town of Ayr. A few 
 years afterward, he took a small farm, on which, 
 however, his utmost exertions, and those of the 
 members of his family who were able to give him 
 any assistance, seem to have hardly sufficed to 
 earn a subsistence without running in debt. 
 
 "The farm," says his son, "proved a ruinous 
 
KOBEKT BUKNS. 55 
 
 bargain. . . . My father was advanced in life 
 when he married : I was the eldest of seven child- 
 ren ; and he, worn out by early hardships, was 
 unfit for labor. My ftither's spirit was soon mi- 
 tated, but not easily broken. 
 
 " There was a freedom in his lease in two years 
 more; and to weather these two years, we re- 
 trenched our expenses. We lived very poorly. I 
 was a dexterous ploughman for my age ; and the 
 next eldest to me was a brother, (Gilbert) who 
 could drive the plough very well and help me to 
 thrash the corn. . . . This kind of life — the 
 cheerless gloom of a hermit ; with the increasing 
 moil of a galley-slave, brought me to my six- 
 teenth year." 
 
 On the expiration of this lease, his father took 
 another farm. " For four years," continued Burns, 
 "we lived comfortably here; but a difference 
 commencing between him and his landlord as to 
 terms, after three years tossing and turning in the 
 vortex of litigation, my father was just saved 
 from the horrors of a jail by a consumption 
 which, after two years' promises, kindly stepped 
 in and carried him away to where the wicked cease 
 from troubling and tJie weary are at rest^ 
 
 Yet it was during this time that the future poet 
 made his first important acquisitions in literature. 
 " I was, at the beginning of this period," says he, 
 " perhaps the most ungainly, awkward boy in the 
 parish ; no solitaire was less acquainted with the 
 ways of the world. What I knew of ancient 
 
56 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Story was gathered from Salmon's and Guthrie's 
 Geographical Grammars; and the ideas I had 
 formed of modern manners, of Hterature, and 
 criticism, I got from the Spectator." 
 
 He then goes on to enumerate the other works 
 to which his reading extended. The whole formed 
 a sufficiently miscellaneous collection, although not 
 very numerous ; the principal being Pope's works, 
 some plays of Shakspeare, Locke's Essays on the 
 Human Understanding, Stackhouse's History of 
 the Bible, Allen Ramsay's works, and a collection 
 of English songs. " The collection of songs," he 
 adds, " was my vade mecum. I pored over them 
 driving my cart or walking to labor, song by song, 
 verse by verse, carefully noting the true, tender, 
 or sublime, from affectation and fustian. I am 
 convinced I owe to this practice much of my 
 critic craft, such as it is." 
 
 He afterward went for a few weeks to a village 
 school, where he obtahied some acquaintance with 
 the elements of geometry, and the practical 
 sciences of mensuration, surveying, and dialling. 
 His reading, too, gradually enlarged, as accident 
 threw new books in his way. 
 
 He mentions, in particular, among those he met 
 with, Thomson's and Shenstone's works. " And I 
 engaged," says he, " several of my schoolfellows 
 to keep up a literary correspondence with me. 
 This improved me in composition. I had met 
 with a collection of letters by the wits of Queen 
 Anne's reign, and I pored over them most devoutly. 
 
ROBERT BURNS. 57 
 
 "I kept copies of any of my own letters tliat 
 pleased me ; and a comparison between them and 
 the composition of most of my correspondents 
 flattered my vanity." 
 
 In a letter from Gilbert Burns, which Dr. Car- 
 rie has published, we have a still more particular 
 account of the manner in which the fother of this 
 humble family struggled, in all his difficulties, to 
 procure education for his children; from which, 
 as interestingly illustrative of the extent to which 
 the poorest have it in their power to discharge this 
 most important parental duty, we shall here tran- 
 scribe a few sentences : 
 
 "There being no school near us," says the 
 writer, " and our little services being useful on the 
 fai*m, my father undertook to teach us arithmetic 
 in the winter evenings by candlelight ; and in 
 this way my two eldest sisters got all the educa- 
 tion they received. * ♦ * My father was for 
 some time almost the only companion we had. He 
 conversed familiarly on all subjects with us, as if 
 we had been men ; and was at great pains, while 
 we accompanied him in the labors of the farm, to 
 lead the conversation to such subjects as might 
 tend to increase our knowledge, or confirm us in 
 virtuous habits. He borrowed ' Salmon's Geogra- 
 phical Grammar' for us, and endeavored to make 
 us acquainted with the situation and history of the 
 different countries in the world ; while from a 
 book-society in Ayr he procured for us the reading 
 of ' Derham's Physico and Astro Theology,' and 
 
58 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ' Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation,' to give 
 us some idea of astronomy and natural history." 
 
 Gilbert also gives, in this letter, a more par- 
 ticular account of his brother's early readhig. 
 " Robert," he proceeds, " read all these books 
 with an avidity and industry scarcely to be equal- 
 ed. My father had been a subscriber to ' Stack- 
 house's History of the Bible' — from this Robert 
 collected a competent knowledge of ancient his- 
 tory ; for no book was so voluminous as to slacken 
 his industry, or so antiquated as to damp his re- 
 searches. 
 
 " A brother of my mother, who had lived with 
 us some time, and had learned some arithmetic 
 by our winter evening's candle, went into a book- 
 seller's shop in Ayr to purchase the ' Ready 
 Reckoner, or Tradesman's Sure Guide,' and a book 
 to teach him to write letters. Luckily, in place of 
 the ' Complete Letter-Writer,' he got by mistake 
 a small collection of letters by the most eminent 
 writers, with a few sensible directions for attaining 
 an easy epistolary style. This book was to Robert 
 of the greatest consequence. It inspired him with 
 a strong desire to excel in letter-writmg, while it 
 furnished him with models by some of the fii-st 
 writers in our language." 
 
 After mentioning the manner in which his bro- 
 ther obtained a few of his other books, Gilbert 
 goes on to say that a teacher in Ayr, of the name 
 of Murdoch, to whom he was sent for two or three 
 weeks by his father to improve his writing, be- 
 
KOBEET BURNS. 59 
 
 ing himself engaged at the time in learning 
 French, communicated the instructions he re- 
 ceived to his ardent and persevering pupil, who, 
 when he returned home, brought with him a 
 French dictionary and grammar, and a copy of 
 "Telemachus." 
 
 " In a Uttle whUe," continues the writer, *' by 
 the assistance of these books, he had acquired 
 such a knowledge of the language as to read and 
 understand any French author in prose." He 
 afterward attempted to learn Latin, but did not 
 prosecute the study so long as to make much pro- 
 gress. 
 
 All this while, the misfortunes and sufferings of 
 this admirable father and his poor family continued 
 to increase every day. 
 
 Gilbert's picture of their condition is touching in 
 the extreme. " To the buffetings of misfortune," 
 says he, " we could only oppose hard labor and the 
 most rigid economy. We lived very sparing. 
 For several years butcher's meat was a stranger in 
 the house ; while all the members in the family 
 exerted themselves to the utmost of their strength, 
 and rather beyond it, in the labors of the farm. 
 
 " My brother, at the age of thirteen, assisted in 
 thrashing the crop of corn, and at fifteen, was the 
 principal laborer on the farm, for we had no hired 
 servant, male or female. 
 
 "The anguish of mind we felt, at our tender 
 years, under these straits and difficulties, was very 
 great. To think of our father growing old (for he 
 
60 FA^IOUS HOYS. 
 
 was now about fifty), broken down with the long- 
 continued fatigues of his hfe, with a wife and five 
 other children, and in a dechning state of circum- 
 stances, these reflections produced in my brother's 
 mind and mine, sensations of the deepest distress. 
 I doubt not but that the hard labor and sorrow of 
 this period of his life was, in a great measure, the 
 cause of that depression of spirits with which 
 Robert was often afflicted through his whole life 
 afterward. At this time, he was almost constantly 
 afflicted in the evenings with a dull head-ache, 
 which, at a future period of his life, was exchanged 
 for a palpitation of the heart, and a threatening of 
 fainting and suffocation in his bed in the night 
 time." 
 
 Murdoch, Burns' English master, although not a 
 man of great learning, appears to have been a 
 judicious elementary instructor, as well as to have 
 preserved, in a remarkable degree, that zeal for the 
 improvement of his pupils, and delight in witness- 
 ing their progress, which do more, perhaps, than 
 any thing else to render a teacher's efforts success- 
 ful. In a letter addressed to Mr. Walker, and 
 written some years after the death of the poet, this 
 person says: "Upon this httle farm (the first 
 which Burn's father had) was erected an humble 
 dwelHng, of which William Burns was the archi- 
 tect. It was, with the exception of a little straw, 
 literally a tabernacle of clay. In this mean cot- 
 tage, of which I myself was at times an inhabitant, 
 I really believe there dwelt a larger portion of 
 
EGBERT BUKNS. 61 
 
 content than in any palace in Europe." In noticing, 
 afterward, the ease with which his young pupils 
 (Robert being then about six or seven years of 
 age) learned their tasks, he remarks, " This facility 
 was partly owing to the method pursued by their 
 father and me in instructing them, which was, to 
 make them thoroughly acquainted with the mean- 
 ing of every word in each sentence that was to be 
 committed to memory. By-the-bye, this may be 
 easier done, and at an earlier period, than is gen- 
 erally thought. As soon as they w^ere capable of 
 it, I taught them to turn verse into natural prose 
 order; sometimes to substitute synonymous ex- 
 pressions for poetical words, and to supply all the 
 ellipses. These, you know, are the means of 
 knowing that the pupil understands his author." 
 
 " These are excellent helps to the arrangement 
 of words in sentences, as well as to a variety of 
 expression." 
 
 In the remainder of the letter, the writer gives 
 a very interesting account of the manner in w^hich 
 he and his pupil, at a future period, commenced 
 and carried on their French studies. 
 
 When Robert Burns was about thirteen years 
 of age, Murdoch had been appointed parish school- 
 master of Ayr, upon which, as we have already 
 mentioned, Burns was sent for a few weeks to at- 
 tend his school. "He was now with me," says 
 Murdoch, " day and night, in school, at all meals, 
 and in all my walks. At the end of one week I 
 told him that, as he was now pretty much master 
 
0^5 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 of the parts of speech, etc., I should like to teach 
 him something of French pronunciation ; that, 
 when he should meet with the name of a French 
 town, ship, officer, or the like, in the newspapers, 
 he might be able to pronounce it something like a 
 French word. 
 
 " Robert was glad to hear this proposal, and im- 
 mediately we attacked the French with great 
 courage. Now there was little else to be heard 
 but the declension of nouns, the conjugation of 
 verbs, etc. When walking together, and even at 
 meals, I was constantly telling him the names of 
 different objects, as they presented themselves, in 
 French ; so that he was hourly laying in a stock 
 of words, and sometimes little phrases. In short, 
 he took such pleasure in learning, and I in teach- 
 ing, that it was difficult to say which of the two 
 was most zealous in the business ; and about the 
 end of the second week of our study of the French, 
 we began to read a little of the ' Adventures of 
 Telemachus,' in Fenelon's own words." 
 
 Another week was hardly over when the young 
 student was obliged to leave school for the labors 
 of the harvest. " I did not, however," says Mur- 
 doch, lose sight of him, but was a frequent visitor 
 at his fiither's house when I had my half-holiday ; 
 and very often went accompanied by one or two 
 persons more intelligent than myself, that good 
 William Burns might enjoy a mental feast. 
 
 "Then the laboring oar was shifted to some 
 other hand. The father and son sat down with 
 
ROBERT BURNS. 63 
 
 US, when we enjoyed a conversation wherein solid 
 reasoning, sensible remark, and a moderate season- 
 ing of jocularity, were so nicely blended as to ren- 
 der it palatable to all parties. Robert had a hund- 
 red questions to ask me about the French, etc. ; 
 and the father, who had always rational informa- 
 tion in view, had still some question to propose to 
 my more learned friends upon moral or natural 
 philosophy, or some such interesting subject." 
 
 It is delightful to contemplate such scenes of 
 humble life as these, showing us, as they do, what 
 the desire of intellectual cultivation may accomp- 
 lish in any circumstances, and with how much 
 genuine happiness it will irradiate the gloom even 
 of the severest poverty. 
 
 We shall not pursue further the history of 
 Robert Bums. All know his sudden blaze of pop- 
 ularity; the misfortunes and errors of his short 
 life ; and the immortality which he has won by his 
 genius. It is plain, from the details we have given, 
 that, even had he never been a poet, he would 
 have grown up to be no common man. Whatever 
 he owed to nature, it was to his admirable father, 
 and his own zealous exertions, that he was indebted 
 at least for that education of his powers, and that 
 storing of his mind with knowledge, which in so 
 great a degree contriMited to make him what he 
 afterward became. 
 
ELISHA KENT KANE. 
 
 The name of Elisha Kent Kane, in the language 
 of his biographer,* has passed into history, the 
 history of science and heroic adventure. The 
 youth of his country desire to know him person- 
 ally, intimately. There is a lesson in his life for 
 them. Hero-worship is a form of devotional faith 
 which may or may not yield its best fruit to the 
 worshiper : the spirit of a generous emulation 
 must work in him to produce them, and for this 
 he needs the directory of the facts and influences 
 which grew his model into greatness. 
 
 Elisha Kane was born in Philadelphia on the 
 3d of February, 1820; his father was John K. 
 Kane, a member of the Philadelphia bar, and 
 afterward Judge of the United States District 
 Court. Elisha was the eldest of seven children. 
 His child-history is full of incidents and adven- 
 tures ; in his boyhood he evinced the same dar- 
 ing spirit and indomitable energy and perseverance 
 which characterized him through life, and in his 
 
 * Biography of Elisha Kent Kane by William Elder. 
 
ELISIIA KENT KANE. 65 
 
 Arctic adventures rendered him the pride of his 
 countrymen, and the admiration of the world. 
 
 His frame was admirably fitted for all manner of 
 athletic exercises, and his impulses kept it well up 
 to the limits of its capabilities, daring and doing 
 every thing within the liberties of boy-life with an 
 intent seriousness of desperation which kept do- 
 mestic rule upon the stretch. It was not the 
 monkey mirthfulness, nor the unprincipted reck- 
 lessness of childhood, that he was chargeable 
 with, but something more of purpose and tenacity 
 in exacting deference and enforcing equity than is 
 usually allowed to boyhood. 
 
 Difficult, daring, and desperate enterprises, not 
 only useless but recklessly wild, worked in him 
 like one possessed. The following exploit will illus- 
 trate this peculiarity of his character : 
 
 When about ten years of age, he was seized 
 with a desire to reach the top of the kitchen 
 chimney, which stood sixteen feet above the roof, 
 and set about to accomplish it in the following 
 manner : 
 
 Having made such preparations as were neces- 
 sary, he fixed upon the night for the attempt, and 
 waiting until all the family were asleep, then, 
 arousing his younger brother, who slept with him, 
 they proceeded to the roof of the front building, 
 and dropped themselves upon that of the kitchen. 
 
 The clothes-line, with a stone tied securely to 
 one end, was already lying there in wait for them. 
 
 " What is the stone for ?" inquired his brother. 
 5 
 
66 FAZtlOUS EOYS. 
 
 "Why, you see, Tom, the stone is a dipsey. I 
 call it a dipsey (a newly-coined word of his to suit 
 the occasion) because I'm going to throw it into 
 the flue, so that it will run down into the old 
 fiirnace, carrying the line down with it, and then 
 I can slip down and fasten it there. Now for a 
 heave. The chimney-top is almost too high for 
 me. It is pretty near twenty feet, I should think ; 
 but I'll do it." 
 
 After many unsuccessful attempts in throwing 
 the line, he at last succeeded, and the stone was 
 heard to fall within the chimney. Elisha rushed 
 through the trap-door down to the kitchen, fast- 
 ened the stone, and was back again ready for the 
 most difficult part of the undertaking. 
 
 The chimney was built on the edge of the roof nnd 
 very narrow, so Tom was firmly planted with the 
 rope in his hand by which to prevent Elisha from 
 swinging out beyond the roof, and thereby run the 
 risk of falling some forty or fifty feet to the pave- 
 ment below. 
 
 These precautions being taken, Elisha seized the 
 rope, commenced his ascent hand over hand, but 
 on reaching the top bricks he attempted to draw 
 himself up by them, but found they were loose 
 and insecure. With much difficulty he managed 
 to get his elbows over the edge, and then dexter- 
 ously worked himself up to the top. 
 
 "Oh, Tom," exclaimed he, as he seated himself 
 on the dizzy height, " what a nice place this is I 
 I'll get down into the flue to my waist, and puU 
 
ELISHA KENT KANE. 67 
 
 you up too. Just make a loop in the rope and 
 I'll haul you in. Don't be afraid — it is so grand 
 up here." 
 
 But this feat he could not accomplish, his strength 
 proving inadequate. 
 
 Descending the rope now was nearly as dangerous 
 as the ascent, but he began the descent cautiously 
 though fearlessly, and reached the roof in safety. 
 It was now necessary to remove all evidence of 
 their wild prank, and after thoroughly washing 
 the rope, cleansing it from the chimney soot, 
 they retired to bed, happy in the success of their 
 task. 
 
 " Elisha as a boy had not a vice or a fault that 
 could spoil the man ; but he had scarcely an incli- 
 nation that promised success in the life designed 
 for him. There was riding at breakneck speed 
 to be done ; trees and rocks to climb ; pebbles 
 to pick ; dogs to " train ; chemistry, geology, and 
 geography to explore, with his eyes and fingers 
 on the facts ; sketching, whittling, and cobbling 
 to do, with other heroics of muscle and mind — all 
 mixed in a medley of matter and system, for which 
 there was no promising precedent, and no pro- 
 phecy of good." 
 
 It was not until his sixteenth year that he be- 
 gan to feel the deficiencies of his education, he 
 then addressed himself vigorously to the work of 
 repairing them, and made such rapid progress in 
 his studies that he was enabled to enter the Uni- 
 versity at Virginia in the same year. He re- 
 
68 FAMOUS EOYS. 
 
 mained here a year and a half, when a danger- 
 ous iUness compelled him to relinquish his studies 
 and return home. This illness proved to be a 
 disease of the heart, and for a long period there 
 was little hope of his recovery. The physician 
 told him that any incautious movement might 
 prove fatal. " You may fall, Ehsha," said he, " as 
 suddenly as from a musket-shot." With this 
 knowledge ever present before him, he became 
 earnest and hopeful, prepared to die, ready to 
 live. 
 
 Once, while at the University he told a cousin 
 that he was " determined to make his mark in the 
 world." And, notwithstanding the critical nature 
 of the disease, which rendered death always im- 
 pending and at any moment probable, he reso- 
 lutely pursued this purpose, and in no instance 
 abated his efforts or his studies in consequence of 
 his physical infirmities. 
 
 He adopted the profession of medicine, entered 
 the office of Dr. William Harris, of Philadelphia, 
 and pursued his studies Avith much zeal and deter- 
 mination, although his recovery was as yet tardy 
 and imperfect. In his twenty-first year, he was 
 elected Resident Physician in the Pennsylvania 
 Hospital, Blockley. 
 
 His youthful appearance told against him at 
 first, but soon his dignified character and intelli- 
 gence won for him the respect and confidence, 
 both of his associates and patients. 
 
 He remained in the Hospital nearly two years, 
 
EI.ISHA KENT KANE. 69 
 
 when he was offered and accepted the position of 
 physician to the Chinese Embassy, which left our 
 coast in May 1843. 
 
 On the voyage, the vessels stopped and were 
 frequently delayed at various ports, and Dr. Kane 
 invariably seized the opportunity thus afforded hira, 
 by traveling into the interior, and exploring and 
 visiting all that was of interest. Upon one of these 
 occasions, he had the hardihood and daring to 
 enter the crater of the volcano of Tael, which is 
 situated on one of the Phillippine Island's. 
 
 " His descent into the Tael was a feat which only 
 one European has attempted before, and he with- 
 out success. Dr. Kane was in company with 
 Baron Lao. They had an escort of natives, pro- 
 vided by the ecclesiastics of the neighboring sanc- 
 tuary of Casaisay, who pointed out the only path- 
 way to the brink of the crater. 
 
 "The two gentlemen attempted the descent 
 together, but they soon reached a projecting ledge 
 from which further progress was absolutely precip- 
 itous. After searching in vain for some more prac- 
 ticable route, the Baron gave up the project, and 
 united with the rest of the party in efforts to 
 persuade the doctor to abandon it also. But that 
 was out of the question. It was Kane's temper to 
 meet difficulty with proportioned endeavor, and to 
 do his best to master it before he yielded. 
 
 " The attendants very reluctantly gathered from 
 the jungle a quantity of bamboos, and fastened 
 them into a rude but strong rope, by which, under 
 
70 fa:mous boys. 
 
 the guidance of the Baron, they lowered him over 
 the brink. 
 
 " He touched bottom at a depth of more than 
 two hundred feet from the platform he had left, 
 and, detaching himself from the cord, clambered 
 sloAvly downward until he reached the smoking 
 lake below and dipped his specimen-bottles under 
 its surface. 
 
 " The next thing now Tvas to get back again 
 with the trophies of his achievement. 
 
 " This he used to speak of as the only dangerous 
 part of the enterprise. The scalding ashes gave 
 way under him at every step of his return ; a 
 change in the air-current stifled him with sulphur- 
 ous vapors ; he fell repeatedly, and, before he got 
 back to the spot where his rope was dangling, his 
 boots were so charred that one of them went to 
 pieces on his foot. He, however, succeeded in 
 tying the bamboo round his w\aist, and was hauled 
 up almost insensible, and sank exhausted in the 
 hands of his assistants. The Baron dashed him 
 with water, and applied restoratives brought by a 
 messenger whom he had despatched to the neigh- 
 borhig hermitage. The remedies were so far suc- 
 cessful that he could be carried to the halting- 
 place of the night before. He had saved his 
 bottles of sulphur-water, which he sent home to 
 be analyzed, and with them some fine specimens of 
 porphyritic tufa." 
 
 When the negotiations of the Embassy w^ere con- 
 cluded, Dr. Kane procured a substitute for his 
 
ELISHA KENT KANE. Yl 
 
 official position, being unwilling to return home, 
 as he desired to remain in China to practice his 
 profession there for a while, in order to raise suffi- 
 cient funds by which he would be enabled to ex- 
 tend his travels. His practice both as physician 
 and surgeon proved to be very successful until he 
 was taken suddenly ill with the rice-fever. A 
 friend residing in Canton took him home, and 
 nursed him with great kindness. 
 
 As soon as he was sufficiently recovered he made 
 arrangements to return by the overland route to 
 Europe. He did not reach home, however, until 
 the winter of 1845. The intermediate time he 
 spent in rapid traveling through India, Egypt, 
 CJreece, Germany, and Switzerland. 
 
 Soon after his return he was ordered (as surgeon 
 of the United States navy) to the coast of Africa, 
 and while engaged in exploring that dangerous 
 coast, he was prostrated by the fever peculiar 
 to that clime, and was sent home an invalid in 
 1847. 
 
 Our war with Mexico was then in progress, and 
 so impatient was Dr. Kane to be m active ser\ice 
 again, that he applied for a position in the army, 
 before his friends thought him to be convalescent. 
 His apphcation was received, and he started for 
 Mexico on the 6th of November, 1847, bearing im- 
 portant dispatches to General Scott. He remained 
 there until the war was over. 
 
 It was while engaged in this service on the 
 coast-survey that he was summoned to join the 
 
72 FAIVIOUS BOYS. 
 
 Arctic Expedition, then preparing to set out in 
 search of Sir John Franklin. 
 
 Dr. Kane -himself says: "On the 12th of May, 
 1860, while bathing in the tepid waters of the 
 Gulf of Mexico, I received one of those courteous 
 little epistles from Washington, which the electric 
 telegraph has made so familiar to naval officers. 
 
 " It detached me from the coast-survey, and or- 
 dered me to ' proceed forthwith to New York for 
 duty upon the Arctic Expedition.' 
 
 "Seven and a half days later I had accom- 
 pHshed my overland journey of thirteen hundred 
 miles, and in forty hours more our squadron was 
 beyond the limits of the United States : the De- 
 partment had calculated my traveling time to a 
 nicety." 
 
 Five years previous to the very month, and 
 almost to the day, did Sir John Franklin set sail 
 on his fourth and last voyage in hopes of discover- 
 ing a Northwest Passage to the Pacific Ocean. 
 Several vessels had been despatched by the British 
 government in search of the adventurers, but had 
 returned without success. Then Lady Franklin 
 appealed to our country for assistance in behalf of 
 her husband. 
 
 An appeal most touching and eloquent in its 
 language and its subject was not to be resisted ; 
 and Henry Grinnell, Esq., of New York, made 
 offer of two vessels completely furnished for an 
 expedition in search of the lost mariners. These 
 vessels, " Advance" and " Rescue," were accepted 
 
ELISIIA KENT IvANE. 73 
 
 and manned by the navy ; the command given to 
 Lieutenant De Haven, and Dr. Kane was ap- 
 pointed senior medical officer aboard the Ad- 
 vance. 
 
 They started on their mission of love and duty 
 the 22d of May, 1850, encountering all kinds of 
 privations, hardships, and danger, and returned 
 home after spending sixteen months in unsuccess- 
 ful search. 
 
 On the 30th of May, 1853, the Advance again 
 set out for the Arctic seas, having been placed 
 this time at the disposal of Dr. Kane. Twenty 
 months did the adventurers pass hi those frozen 
 seas, still unsuccessful as before, meeting no trace 
 of the lost Sir John Franklin and his crew, 
 whose melancholy fate has since been placed be- 
 yond doubt by the researches of Captain McClin- 
 tock. It is impossible, in this short sketch, to 
 give an account of the perils our adventurers en- 
 countered, or the sufferings they endured, amid 
 raging storms, and drifting ice, crushing bergs, 
 and dashing floes, hidden rocks and benumbing 
 cold. They were at last compelled to return, 
 with the object of their search undiscovered, but 
 their voyage must not be considered fruitless in 
 view of the many important facts contributed to 
 our knowledge of the Arctic Seas. Dr. Kane's 
 account of the two Expeditions with which he 
 was identified are two as delightful and spirited 
 volumes as any in the language. They have the 
 fascination of a romance ; their pages are crowded 
 
74: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 with adventures and incidents of the most thrill- 
 ing and entrancing kind ; they describe scenes 
 fascinating in their strangeness and sublimity ; 
 they open to us a history- utterly apart from com- 
 mon experience, and awaken impulses of fear, in- 
 terest, sympathy, and admiration. Courage, for- 
 titude, patience, suffering, endurance — these quali- 
 ties elevate the Arctic adventurers into heroes, and 
 will associate their names with the bravest and 
 greatest in the w^orld. 
 
 Dr. Kane bore the seeds of disease in his con- 
 stitution ; the rigor of the Arctic ^vdnters developed 
 them. Soon after his return it became painfully 
 apparent that his health was seriously impaired. 
 He went to England with the hope of finding 
 benefit in change, but grew rapidly worse. He 
 proceeded thence to Cuba, but found no aid from 
 the climate, and died at Havana on the 16th of 
 February, 1857, mourned by every American as 
 if he were a brother. No man was ever followed 
 to the grave by the more sincere grief of a nation. 
 Dr. Kane was absolutely loved by his countrymen ; 
 their affections, sympathies, and admiration, crown 
 him with honor and renown. 
 
 We do not hold up Dr. Kane as a model because 
 he possessed a spirit of adventure. That fondness 
 for danger which he exhibited as a boy in climbing 
 to the top of the lofty chimney, and afterward in 
 descending into the mouth of the volcano, are 
 things to admire, but not necessarily things to 
 imitate. The qualities exhibited by Dr. Kane, 
 
ELISHA KENT KANE. 75 
 
 which every boy might study and try to imitate, 
 are honesty, simplicity, and truthfulness of charac- 
 ter ; resolute working out of his own purposes ; 
 generous renunciation of self, exhibiting a temper 
 more occupied with the destinies, fates, and for- 
 tunes of others than with his own selfish advance- 
 ment. He was determined to make his mark in 
 the worfd, but he was also determined to contrib- 
 ute something to the store of human knowledge. 
 To this end he was ready to brave any danger or 
 hardship ; and when we recollect all the sufferings 
 he experienced in the Arctic seas, prompted to his 
 mission by the hope of rescuing from a terrible 
 death the noble Franklin and his followers, and, 
 if possible, to solve that great geographical ques- 
 tion of the age, the North- West passage, we cannot 
 refrain from admitting at once that he possessed 
 the attributes of a hero. But all men cannot be 
 heroes in the same direction. Let the lad who 
 reads this page wisely select what his course of 
 life shall be, and work as honestly, magnanimous- 
 ly, fearlessly to accomplish his ends as Elisha 
 Kane did, and he too cannot fail to make his mark 
 in the world. 
 
HENEY CLAY. 
 
 Henry Clay was born in Hanover county, 
 Virginia, April 12th, 1777, less than one year after 
 the Declaration of Independence. His birth was, 
 therefore, almost contemporaneous with that of 
 his country. Henry was the fifth of a family of 
 seven children, which, at an early age, were left 
 to the care of a widoAved mother. The limited 
 means at the disposal of this lady rendered the 
 educational advantages of her children very small. 
 He attended the log-cabin schoolhouse kept by one 
 Peter Deacon, an establishment consisting of but 
 one room, with no floor but the earth, and no 
 window but the door. At this primitive " acad- 
 emy" he succeeded in mastering the mysteries of 
 reading, Avriting, and a little insight into arith- 
 metic. And even with these poor advantages, he 
 was enabled to devote only a portion of his time 
 to his studies ; it being his duty to contribute a 
 portion of labor toward the support of the family. 
 He ploughed, performed many duties about the 
 farm, and, among others, was selected to carry 
 grain to the mill. Hence arose that appellation 
 which in after-life, when the foremost statesman 
 
The Mill-Boy of the Slashes, 
 
 Page 76. 
 
 J > > > 
 
HENRY CLAY. T7 
 
 of tlie age, his admirers delighted to apply to 
 him—" Mill-boy of the Slashes." The Slashes 
 was the name of the low, swampy neighborhood 
 in which his mother resided. It is customary to 
 depict him on his errands to the mill riding a 
 horse without a saddle, and with a rope for a 
 bridle. 
 
 At the age of fourteen, he was removed from 
 this "seminary of learning," and placed in the 
 store of Mr. Richard Denny, in Richmond, Vir- 
 ginia. In what manner he spent his time in this 
 employment we have no account. At the end of a 
 year, at the friendly suggestion of Captain Henry 
 Watkins, who had taken a Hvely interest in the 
 lad, he was removed from the store, and placed at 
 a desk in the office of the clerk of the High Court 
 of Chancery, Peter Tinsley, Esq. This was a for- 
 tunate step for Henry, and opened to him oppor- 
 tunities which he made haste to avail himself of. 
 It is related that at this period Clay was so awk- 
 ward in manner and so eccentric in appearance as 
 to excite the mirth and derision of his fellow-clerks. 
 He was dressed in a suit of homespun, cotton and 
 silk mixed, of the complexion of pepper and salt, 
 excessively-starched linen, and a coat the tail of 
 which stood out at an alarming angle. This was 
 very comical, it must be admitted, and Henry was 
 never a handsome lad. The clerks laughed, but 
 soon discovered that the awkward-looking rustic 
 carried a sharp tongue in his head. They were 
 glad to make friends with him, if for no other 
 
Y8 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 reason than to escape an ability at repartee which 
 was too much for them. 
 
 Young Clay was put to copying, a tasteless 
 drudgery, but the youth set to work at it with 
 zeal, and performed his labor so w^ell as to merit 
 and receive commendation. But he was not con- 
 tent to be a mere copyist ; he gathered facts and 
 hints from the pages which he transcribed, and 
 became fired with a desire of knowledge. He filled 
 up his leisure with study, and already looked for- 
 ward to the time when he should be sometliing 
 more than a copyist. He was fortunate in ai'ous- 
 ing the interest of the venerable Chancellor Wythe, 
 who, needing an amanuensis, and pleased with the 
 appearance of Henry, offered him the situation. 
 The proposition was readily acceded to, most for- 
 tunately for the future career of our hero. The 
 advantages he experienced in the Chancellor's 
 ofiice were invaluable. 
 
 " The studies of the Chancellor were prosecuted 
 with great industry and far-reaching research ; in 
 learning, industry, and sound judgment, he had 
 few superiors ; and for a lad like Henry Clay to 
 be such a man's private secretary was itself an 
 education. And not only in strictly legal know^l- 
 edge, but in the classics, in history, in polite liter- 
 ature, the friendly advice of the Chancellor w^as 
 the guide of the young clerk. Under such judi- 
 cious instruction, Henry Clay was so trained that 
 he was more than able to cope with his compeers, 
 who received the benefits of education in univer- 
 
HENRY CLAY. ^9 
 
 sities. He was a continual student, needing only- 
 suggestive advice ; and he rewarded counsel by 
 obedience, thus encouraging his friends to direct 
 him. Nothing is more discouraging to one who 
 wishes well to a youth than to find hini inattentive 
 to the directions of his elders. No labor was 
 thus lost upon Henry Clay. He not only availed 
 himself of the kindness of his friends, but remem 
 bered their good offices with gratitude, and re 
 ferred to them with emotion, when he had reached 
 a position in which he no longer needed patronage 
 or advice, but could confer both. 
 
 " Many youth read — but their reading may be 
 desultory ; without any established aim, and per- 
 haps with no higher object than amusement. 
 Henry Clay read with an object, as is evident 
 from the fixct that when his name had been en- 
 rolled for about a year only as a student of law, 
 in the office of Attorney-General Brooke, he was 
 admitted to practice by the Count of Appeals. It 
 is not to be supposed that one year could confer 
 knowledge of law sufficient to entitle a minor to 
 admission to the bar, and we, therefore, infer that 
 the reading of the lad always was of a practical 
 and useful character. For five years young Clay 
 enjoyed the privilege of Chancellor Wythe's 
 friendship ; and he was furthermore introduced 
 into the society and notice of John Marshall, after- 
 ward Chief-Justice of the United States, and other 
 distinguished men of that era. He had thus an 
 opportunity of acquiring, at the fountain-head, a 
 
80 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 knowledge of the meaning of the founders of the 
 republic, in the constitution which they drew up, 
 and the laws which were passed in pursuance of it. 
 His intimate relation with these political patriarchs 
 apprised him of the cost of that Union with which 
 his life may be said to have begun ; and in his 
 after-life he showed himself, on more than one 
 important occasion, the effective friend of his 
 country, and its able defender, whether the threat- 
 ening danger came from foreign foes, or arose 
 from internal difficulties. 
 
 " We cannot pass this period in the life of our 
 hero, without commending the example of the 
 young man who sought to improve his mind by 
 listening to the wisdom of his seniors, rather 
 than to dissipate his time and talents in amuse- 
 ment with his fellow-students. He thus secured 
 the esteem of men who could appreciate his char- 
 acter, and predict his success. His relations with 
 those of his own age were also of an elevating 
 character. Like seeks like — and with other young 
 men like himself, studious and ambitious, he com- 
 bined amusement with instruction in the exercises 
 of a debating-society ; which was the first scene 
 of his capacity for oratory and for argument. The 
 promise of his life early developed itself; and we 
 may add also that his capacity for winning and 
 securing friends was also manifested. His frank 
 and generous nature had none of the art which 
 can secure advancement by duplicity and manage- 
 ment. He had not the small ambition which can 
 
HENEY CLAY. 81 
 
 stoop to flattery and fawning, but his character 
 was stamped with an early manliness which com- 
 mands respect while it invites aflTection." 
 
 He was now in his twenty-first year, and, to use 
 his own words, found himself in Lexington with- 
 out patrons, without the means of paying his 
 weekly board, and in the midst of a bar uncom- 
 monly distinguished by eminent writers. " I re- 
 member," he adds, " how comfortable I thought I 
 should be if I could make one hundred pounds, 
 Vii'ginia money, per year, and with w^hat delight 
 I received the first fifteen shillings fee." His 
 hopes were more than realized — he immediately 
 secured a successful and lucrative practice. " His 
 subtle appreciation of character, knowledge of 
 human nature, and faculties of persuasion, rendered 
 him peculiarly successful in his appeals to a juiy, 
 and he obtained great celebrity for his adroit and 
 careful management of criminal cases." 
 
 The power Mr. Clay exercised over masses of 
 men rendered him an invaluable speaker on politi- 
 cal subjects, and we soon find him drawn from the 
 warm sphere of his profession into the broader arena 
 of politics. Into this arena we do not intend to 
 follow him. The circumstances of his career are 
 familiar to every one ; he rose by successive 
 grades to many positions of honor, and although 
 he failed to obtain that splendid prize to which 
 he aspired, the presidency, he reached a rank even 
 more elevated — the wise statesman, the honorable 
 senator, the popular orator, the noble, honest, in- 
 6 
 
82 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 flexible patriot ! No public man, with the excep- 
 tion of our Washington, was ever so loved by the 
 people as Henry Clay. He possessed to an emi- 
 nent degree those faculties which inspire enthusi- 
 asm, and the " mill-boy of the Slashes" became 
 the delight, the admiration, the pride of his coun- 
 trymen. We cannot pass by this part of his 
 career, however, without relating an anecdote 
 which affords an amusing idea of W^estern life and 
 character. Mr. Clay was nominated for the Ken- 
 tucky legislature, and during the "canvassing" 
 the following incident occurred : 
 
 " He was addressing a crowd, when a party of 
 riflemen, who had been practising, drew near to 
 listen.* They were pleased with the off-hand and 
 attractive style of his oratory, but, backwoods- 
 men-like, considered that there were other requis- 
 ites to manhood, beside the capacity to talk. They 
 wanted no representative who was not able to 
 honor the Kentucky weapon, and do good service 
 with the rifle. An old man in the company, who 
 seemed to have the place of ' spokesman' assigned 
 to him, beckoned to Mr. Clay to come toward 
 him when his speech was finished. A candidate 
 for ofiicc, who is soliciting the popular suffrage, 
 must be very courteous ; so he obeyed the signal. 
 
 " ' Young man,' said the Nimrod, ' you want to 
 go to the Legislature ?' 
 
 " Mr. Clay* acknowledged this — very modestly 
 of course — principally on account of his friends ; 
 though he confessed, having been nominated, he 
 
HENKY CLAY. 
 
 83 
 
 should like to be successful. But he was hardly 
 prepared for the next question. 
 
 " ' Are you a good shot ?' 
 
 " Now shooting has little to do with legislation, 
 but a great deal depended upon the favor of 
 these marksmen. We are afraid that Mr. Clay 
 had some mental reservation behind the reply that 
 ' he considered himself a good markman !' But 
 he was to be proved. 
 
 " ' Then you shall go to the Legislature,' said 
 Nimrod ; * but we must see you shoot !' 
 
 " There was no escape. Mr. Clay pleaded that 
 his own rifle was at home, and he never shot with 
 any other. 
 
 "'No matter,' said the hunter. 'Here's Old 
 Bess; she never fails in the hands of a hunter. 
 She has put a bullet through many a squirrel's 
 head, at a hundred yards. If you can shoot with 
 anything, you can with Old Bess. ^ 
 
 " t Very well !' said Mr. Clay, ' put up your 
 mark.' There was no escape, and he was resolved 
 to try, 'hit or miss.' The target was placed at 
 eighty yards, and Mr. Clay, bringing the piece to 
 his shoulder, pierced the centre — very much we 
 suspect, to his own astonishment. 
 
 " ' A chance shot !" cried his political opponents. 
 ' He can't do it again in a hundred times trying. 
 Let him try it over ! 
 
 " Beat that, and I will !' said Mr. Clay. It was 
 a fair offer, but no one accepted it ; and he, leaving 
 well enough alone, passed, with the crowd as a 
 
84: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 good marksman. He had, moreover, in after life, 
 more fame in rifle practice than he desired. When 
 in Europe, as commissioner to make a treaty with 
 England, at the close of the war of 1812, he was 
 represented in an English paper as the man who 
 killed Tecumseh ; and furthemore, it was stated 
 Avith all gravity, caused several razor strops to be 
 made from the fallen Indian's skin !" 
 
 Henry Clay, in his domestic relations, sustained 
 an enviable reputation as a husband, father, and 
 master. " It was his good fortune to be united to 
 a lady of great excellence, and the homely and 
 happy influence made Ashland a retreat of the 
 most tranquil delight." Henry Clay died on the 
 morning of the twenty-ninth of June, 1852, in the 
 seventy-fifth year of his age. 
 
JOHK LEYDEX, 
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY. 
 
 If ever man was bom in circumstances which 
 might seem adverse to the development of great 
 Hterary ability, that man was John Leyden, and if 
 ever the abilities of any human being rose superior 
 to the adversity of circumstances, those capacities 
 and powers belonged to the same individual. The 
 brief and instructive biography of this most re- 
 markable man is calculated to inspire us with a 
 belief that circumstances, so called, can only be 
 esteemed in proportion and relation to particular 
 minds. The insuperable obstacles in the path of 
 one individual are mere excitatives to exertion in 
 the view of another. An easily satisfied or timid 
 mind, when it approaches some rugged steep, 
 leading to the temple of knowledge and fame, 
 shrinks back, and, without an efibrt, gives up the 
 attempt to climb. The indomitable and aspiring 
 youth, who fixes his eye untiringly upon the one 
 grand object of his travail, sees not the impedi- 
 ments that roughen his onward way. He will 
 work out his aim, in spite of toil, opposition, mid- 
 
8G JOHN LEYDEN. 
 
 night vigils, and cold neglect. The strength of 
 his unseen spirit supports him ; the voice of 
 visioned, white-winged, sunny-eyed hope, is ever 
 whispering to him, although men may shake their 
 heads and shrug their shoulders. The light that 
 irradiates his eye and illuminates his inward life, 
 throws its beams upon the object of his ambition, 
 and onward he moves, and upward he climbs, 
 without an idea of defeat, pitied or neglected by 
 the crowd while he lives and struggles, and honor- 
 ed with the epitaph of genius when he has fallen 
 down in his proud career into a premature grave. 
 John Leyden, who preserved the rusticity of his 
 original manners, and the enthusiasm of his wild 
 poetic nature, while he excelled all his cotempora- 
 ries in the acquisition of scholastic attainments and 
 antiquarian lore, was the son of a poor moorland 
 shepherd. He was born in Scotland, at Denholm, 
 upon the estate of Cavers, in the vale of Teviot, a 
 few miles from Hawick, on the 8th of September, 
 1775, and he was sent at a very early age to herd 
 cattle and tend sheep upon his native braes. About 
 a year after his birth, his parents removed to 
 Henlawshiel, about three miles distant from the 
 cottage where he was born, and here his father so- 
 journed for sixteen years, tending the sheep of his 
 kinsman, the goodman of Nether Tofts, and latter- 
 ly managing the aftairs of the farm, when his rela- 
 tive unfortunately lost his sight. Leyden's dwell- 
 ing-place was in the vicinity of the majestic 
 mountain of Ruberslaw, and the hut and its ap- 
 
JOHN LEYDEN. 87 
 
 purtenauces were as humble and simple as the 
 scenery in which it was located was grand and 
 lovely. Leyden was ten years of age before he 
 went to school, but the future linguist had been 
 taught his letters by his grandmother before he 
 was sent to a regular seminary, and the thirst for 
 knowledge was awakened in him. The splendid 
 and inspiring passages of the Old Testament were 
 eagerly devoured by the enraptured boy. He 
 wept for Joseph, torn from his loved and loving 
 father, and sold by his brethren into a far country, 
 he rejoiced in his glory and triumph, when the poor 
 Hebrew slave rode forth in the chariot of Pharaoh, 
 and all the people bowed down to him ; and he 
 loved to recall him, as he stood before his brethren ; 
 in regal splendor, and cried, " I am Joseph." He 
 gleaned with Ruth in the field of her kinsman, 
 and loved the queenly Esther, who so strongly 
 loved her people. He saw the good old Noah 
 building his ark of gopher wood, and he beheld it 
 floating above the watery shroud of an immersed 
 world. It was the Bible that first touched the 
 poetic heart of Leyden, and filled his aoul with an 
 unquenchable thirst for knowledge. 
 
 Leyden, like almost every Scottish peasant, 
 had his ancestral associations and traditions. One 
 of his progenitors had drawn his claymore for the 
 Covenant, and had distinguished himself as a war- 
 rior under the flag which was inscribed with the 
 names of " Gideon and the Lord ;" and personal as 
 well as natural motives induced the boy to learn 
 
88 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 with avidity the wild tales of Scotland's most 
 woful times. His mother, too, was Isabella Scott, 
 of one of the most famous border clans ; and thus to 
 the enthusiastic, fair-haired, rustic, wondering boy, 
 the ballads and traditions of Teviotdale were pro- 
 creant with familiar and personal illusions. lie 
 was a Borderer by birth and in heart, and a poet 
 and an antiquary from his earliest years. His 
 mind carried him back from the simple and honor- 
 able, and most noble pastoral occupation in which 
 his father and himself were engaged, to the times 
 of midnight foray, and chase, and battle, until he 
 completely identified himself with the Borderers 
 of old, and really assimilated his mind so much 
 with theirs, that the eccentric romantic habits, ac- 
 quired in his unregulated youth, characterised him 
 to the end of his short and eventful life. All the 
 fervid, fierce nationality of one who had often fol- 
 lowed Wallace and bled with Bruce, inspired the 
 breast of Leyden, and all the wild superstitions 
 and majestic idealities of a mountain minstrel as- 
 sumed vital and real aspects in his poetic imagina- 
 tion. The books which this remarkable youth dis- 
 entombed from the ancestral cobwebs and dust of 
 the neighboring peasantry's shelves were few, but 
 they were such as would minister to his patriotism 
 and wonder. Selection was out of the question. 
 Leyden read whatever he could lay his hands on, 
 and was glad if he could catch anything, novel in the 
 shape of print ; but, by one of those fortuitous co- 
 incidences which serve to illustrate the law of 
 
Leyden in search of the " Arabian Nights." 
 
 Page 89. 
 
JOHN LEYDKN. 89 
 
 affinity, he caught some stray volumes of the 
 "History of Scotland," the "Arabian Nights," "Sir 
 David Lindsay's Poetical Works," "Milton and 
 Chapman's " Homer." His manner of obtaining 
 the "Arabian Nights" was characteristic of the 
 man. A companion had informed him that a 
 blacksmith's apprentice, who resided several miles 
 distance, had in his possession this Oriental treasure, 
 and, his friend having perused it described its con- 
 tents to Leyden, the latter determined to proceed 
 to the young votary of Tubal-Cain, and solicit a 
 perusal of the volume in his presence. Early in 
 the morning, the peasant boy set off through the 
 snow to present himself at the smithy-door and beg 
 a reading of the book. At daybreak he was at the 
 smithy, but the young smith had removed to some 
 distance to a temporary job. Onward followed 
 Leyden, found the object of his pursuit, humbly 
 explained his mission, and was refused. Little, 
 however did the blacksmith know that the unseen 
 will of the determined boy beside him was superior 
 to his power of refusal. During the whole day 
 Leyden stood beside him, and the smith, fairly 
 conquered by his pertinacity, gave him the volume 
 in a present, with which, famished and frozen as he 
 was, he returned home triumphantly. 
 
 At eleven years of age, Leyden went to the 
 school of Kirktown, where he acquired a smatter- 
 ing of Latin, and a faint knowledge of arithmetic. 
 He received little help from teachers, and was sub- 
 jected to scarcely any thing like systematic train 
 
90 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ing. Yet he went vigorously on, storing and edu- 
 cating his powerful mind. His parents, observant 
 of his rare talents, at last determined to devote 
 them to the great end of a Scottish peasant's 
 veneration and ambition — the church. The Cam- 
 eronian minister of Denholm taught him Latin, 
 and he privately acquired the rudiments of Greek, 
 and in 1790 commenced his professional studies in 
 the University of Edinburgh. When Ley den ap- 
 peared in the class-room of Professor Dalzell, he 
 was dressed in humble, homespun habiliments, and 
 looked and spoke the rustic. When he first rose 
 to recite his Greek exercises, even the worthy Pro- 
 fessor's gravity was disturbed by the high, harsh 
 tones of his voice, and broadness of his Teviot- 
 dale dialect, and the uncouth appearance presented 
 by his unrestrained fair hair, his ruddy face, and 
 humble garb. The Professor soon perceived, how- 
 ever, that the intellectual qualities of the youth 
 were superior to those of his raiment, and his fel- 
 low-students also discovered that, if they dared to 
 play with him, he, too, dared to match his home- 
 spun-covered arm with the best of theirs in Eng- 
 land's best broad cloth. 
 
 Now at the fountain-head of learning, the peas- 
 ant Leyden was not long before he proved that he 
 could labor as diligently with the mind as his 
 ancestors had done with ploughshare and shep- 
 herd's crook. He attended all the lectures which 
 it was possible for him to attend, and, in addition 
 to perfecting himself in his classical studies, he 
 
JOHN LEYDEN. 91 
 
 acquired French, Spanish, Italian, and German, 
 and was familiar with the ancient Icelandic, as 
 well as Hebrew, Arabic, and Persian. He soon 
 became particularly distinguished as a linguist ; 
 nevertheless, he mauitained a respectable repu- 
 tation in every department of science. Ethics, 
 mathematics, natural philosophy, natural history, 
 botany, chemistry, and mineralogy, were not un- 
 known to him ; and in astrology, demonology, and 
 antiquities, he was peculiarly excellent. 
 
 During the college vacations, Ley den studied 
 and experimented in the little church of Cavers ; 
 and as he became known to the lord of the manor 
 as a student, he was admitted sometimes to the 
 privilege of his Ubrary. In the country, the peas- 
 ant-student might be said to live in himself. There 
 were many with kindred sympathies, but none of 
 his class with any thing like kindred capacities of 
 expression. They felt, but they had not developed 
 nor nursed their feelings to the same extent as 
 Leyden; and so he lived in a silent dreamland. 
 In Edinburgh, however, he had Thomas Campbell 
 with whom to poetise ; Alexander Murray, his 
 companion in the pursuit of Oriental literature ; 
 Dr. Thomas Brown, the precocious philosopher, 
 and many other young men of distinguished abil- 
 ity, were his associates. 
 
 In 1796, John Leyden obtained the situation of 
 private tutor to the sons of Mr. Campbell, of Fair- 
 field, with whom he remained two or three years. 
 Dui'ing the winter of 1798, he attended to the 
 
94: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 and romance, rendering them most suitable com- 
 panions, and their mutual goodness and warmth, 
 of heart constituting them cordial friends. 
 
 The manners of Leyden were never modified by 
 his communion with the most conventional society. 
 He was still the rustic, open, bold, uncouth, free, 
 but simple John Leyden, even when he walked the 
 drawing-rooms of the wealthy, receiving the hom- 
 age due to his genius and acquirements. The per- 
 sonal appearance of Leyden — that is, not the 
 raiment but the man — was rather interesting. His 
 cheeks were clear and ruddy, his hair brown, and 
 his eyes dark and lively. His temperament was 
 one of the most sanguine ; at the same time his 
 features were handsome, and full of life and intel- 
 ligence. His person was of common stature, 
 rather sparingly than athletically formed ; but his 
 wiry muscles and agile limbs were well adapted to 
 those athletic exercises in which he loved to excel, 
 even more than in the arena of scholastic compe- 
 tition. It is a curious reflection in the biography 
 of one so gifted, that he was as emulous of being 
 considered an excellent boxer, leaper, wrestler, 
 and runner, as a scholar, and that he risked his life 
 on more than one occasion in order to demonstrate 
 his agility. The ideal of bold and manly independ- 
 ence which Leyden had formed in his youth, he 
 maintained in all circumstances. He was proud 
 of his humble origin rather than ashamed of it ; 
 he knew that his own intrinsic merits alone had 
 brought him into communion with richer and 
 
JOHN LEYDEN. 95 
 
 better-bred people than himself, and he could not 
 fail to discover that he met none his superior in 
 attainments and talents, and from this sense may 
 have sprung his carelessness in conventional forms. 
 He never took offence, however, at decent criti- 
 cisms upon his manners, and rather encouraged by 
 his jocularity than suppressed the raillery directed 
 against his roughness. To the glory and honor 
 of the humble but gifted student be it recorded, 
 that his moral character was above the breath of 
 suspicion. He was deeply impressed with the 
 principles of morality inculcated in the sacred 
 oracles of God, and he maintained them untainted 
 through life. 
 
 In 1800, John Leyden became a licentiate of the 
 Church of Scotland, and preached in several of the 
 city churches. In the autumn of the same year, he 
 accompanied two young foreigners on the tour of 
 the Hebrides and Highlands, and made many in- 
 vestigations uito Highland traditions and manners ; 
 the only record of this tour extant, however, is his 
 beautiful poem of the "Mermaid," published in the 
 " Border Minstrelsy." In 1 801, Leyden furnished 
 the ballad called the " Elf-King" to Lewis' " Tales 
 of Wonder ;" and in the following year he devoted 
 himself with uncoimnon enthusiasm to the pro- 
 curing of materials for the " Minstrelsy of the 
 Scottish Border;" relative to which pursuit Sir 
 Walter Scott records the following anecdote as an 
 instance of his zeal : "An interesting fragment had 
 been obtained of an ancient historical ballad, but 
 
96 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the remainder, to the great disturbance of the 
 editor and his coadjutor, could not be recovered. 
 Two days afterward, Avhile Scott was sitting with 
 some comj^any after dinner, a sound was heard at 
 a distance, like that of the whistling of a tempest 
 through the torn rigging of a vessel that scuds be- 
 fore it. The sounds increased as they approached 
 more near ; and Leyden (to the great astonishment 
 of such of the guests as did not know him) burst 
 into the room, chanting the desiderated ballad with 
 the most enthusiastic gestures and all the energy of 
 the sawtones of his voice. It turned out that he 
 walked between forty and fifty miles and back 
 again, for the sole purpose of visiting an old person 
 who possessed this precious remnant of antiquity." 
 It was Leyden who supplied the essentials for the 
 " Dissertation on Fairy Superstition," in the " Min- 
 strelsy of the Scottish Border ;" and he is also the 
 author of the ballads, " Lord Soulis" and the " Cout 
 of Keildar." In 1801, he edited a curious old work 
 o/ uncertain origin, and date 1548, called the " Com- 
 playnt of Scotland," the preliminary remarks on 
 which are full of the most curious information. In 
 1802, Leyden became editor of the "Scots Maga- 
 zine, of w^hich Constable was pubhsher, and con- 
 tinued in this situation five or six months, contrib- 
 uting several pieces of poetry and prose ; and in 
 this year he wrote his " Scenes of Infancy." 
 
 The restless, imaginative mind of Leyden, ever 
 living in a region ol wonders, and laughing at the 
 obstacles and dangers of the most desperate enter- 
 
JOHN LEYDEN. 97 
 
 prises, could find no rest for itself in the quiet, 
 passive tenor of Scottish clerical life; and in 
 1802 he had made overtures to the African 
 Society to pursue those African researches so 
 hopefully begun and so fatally terminated by 
 Mungo Park. His friends, in order to divert him 
 from this suicidal project, applied to Government 
 for some situation that would enable him to gratify 
 his longing for the means of making researches 
 into Oriental Uterature. There was no situation 
 open in the Indian Department but that of sur- 
 geon's assistant, which could only be held by a 
 person who had a surgical degree, and who could 
 sustain an examination before the Medical Board. 
 In the incredibly short space of six months, John 
 Leyden had added to his clerical license the diplo- 
 ma of surgeon, and was summoned to join the 
 Christmas fleet of Indiamen, having been appointed 
 assistant-surgeon on the Madras establishment. 
 Of course it was understood that his rare talents 
 were to be devoted to pursuits similar to those of 
 Sir WilHam Jones, whom he soon hoped to surpass 
 in Oriental erudition. 
 
 In 1803, he arrived at Madras, and was imme- 
 diately transferred to a situation promising every 
 opportunity of gratifying the main object of his 
 expatriation ; but, alas ! the climate of India was 
 uncongenial to the health of the Scottish Borderer, 
 and the sturdy and hardy descendant of midnight 
 rievers, who would have scorned to yield to moun- 
 tain's mist or snow, succumbed to the fever-breed- 
 T 
 
98 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ing malaria of Madras. He was constrained to 
 leave this station for Piince of Wales' Island, in 
 order to restore his wasted strength. 
 
 While at Puloo Penang, where he partially re- 
 covered, he made some curious and valuable re-'' 
 searches concerning the language, literature, and 
 descent of the Indo-Chinese tribes, which he laid 
 before the Asiatic Society at Calcutta, whither he 
 repaired in 1806. The health of Dr. Ley den did 
 not succumb so much to climate, perhaps, as to his 
 own irrepressible and inordinate activity. '•''lean- 
 not be idleP'' he exclaimed, when told by his phy- 
 sician that he must rest or die ; " whether I die or 
 live, the wheel must go round till the last;" and 
 so under the depression of fever and liver complaint 
 he studied ten hours a-day. 
 
 Sir John Malcolm, governor of Calcutta, a coun- 
 tryman of his own, relates the following anecdote 
 of him on his landing in the chief city of Bengal. 
 " When he arrived at Calcutta, in 1805," says Sir 
 John, "I was most solicitous regarding his recep- 
 tion in the society of the Indian capital. 'I en- 
 treat you, my dear friend,' I said to him, on the 
 day he landed, 'to be careful of the impression you 
 make on entering this community ; try to learn a 
 little English, and do be silent on literary subjects 
 except among literary men.' ' Learn English !' ho 
 exclaimed, 'no, never; it was trying to learn that 
 language that spoilt my Scotch; and as to being 
 silent, I will promise to hold my tongue if you will 
 make fools hold theirs." 
 
JOHN LETDEN. 99 
 
 Leyden was appointed a Professor of the College 
 of Bengal ; and shortly after he exchanged this 
 situation for the judgeship of the twenty -four 
 purgunnahs of Calcutta. His duties in this capaci- 
 ty were partly military and partly judicial, and 
 brought him in contact very much with the na- 
 tives, whose language and habits he well under- 
 stood. Ilis whole emoluments were expended 
 upon the purchase of Oriental manuscripts and the 
 employment of native teachers, under whom he 
 studied night and day, to the total engrossment of 
 all his spare time and the detriment of his health. 
 
 Dr. Leyden accompanied the British expedition 
 to Java in 1811, high in the hope of adding to his 
 literary stores, but death swept him away three 
 days before the reduction of the island. He died 
 on the 28th of August, 1811, not thirty-six years 
 of age. His death was an irreparable loss to liter- 
 ature and to his friends, and a sad visitation to his 
 parents and country. Consumed by the ardor of 
 his genius and of his devotion to the pursuit of 
 knowledge, he laid down his life before lie had 
 seen the meridian of manhood, and 
 
 " A distant and a deadly shore 
 Has Leyden's cold remains." 
 
JAMES MOISTTGOMEEY, 
 
 POET AND EDITOE. 
 
 James Montgomery was born at Irvine, in 
 Scotland in the county of Ayr, on the 4th of No- 
 vember, 1771 ; just at the time when Robert 
 Burns — a boy in his thirteenth year — might be 
 roving on the banks of the Doon, a little to the 
 southward, in the same county. His father was, 
 we understand, a Moravian minister. When he 
 was still a very young child — three years and a 
 half years old — ^his parents removed to Ireland; 
 whence, in 1777, he was sent to the seminary of 
 Fulneck, in Leeds. Here he remained till 1787, 
 and then took his departure to Mirfield, near Wake- 
 field. By this time the features of the man were 
 beginning to show themselves very distinctly in 
 the boy ; he found the duties of " a small retail 
 concern," in which for nearly two years he had 
 employment, by no means so congenial as the 
 penning of verses ; and finally, bursting the small 
 bonds which confined him, he struck out, in the 
 fearlessness of boyish ignorance, into the great sea 
 of literary adventure. In 1790, we find him located 
 
JAMES MONtGOMEfeY.' iOl' 
 
 with a bookseller in Paternoster Row, London, 
 having at length found something like a kindly- 
 resting-place for the sole of his foot. In London, 
 however, he did not rest, and in 1792 he took up 
 his abode in Sheffield, which continued to be his 
 residence until his death. He supported himself 
 by literary exertion, contributing to the "Sheffield 
 Register." Li 1794, he entered upon more regular 
 and important duties. In July of that year, the 
 " Iris" was published, under the joint management 
 of Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Gales. The latter 
 shortly withdrew, and left his youthful coadjutor 
 to the whole toil and risk of the undertaking. 
 This brings us to an important and interesting part 
 of Mr. Montgomery's career. 
 
 It was the period of the French Revolution ; 
 intense excitement pervaded all parties ; prosecu- 
 tions for sedition, or the appearance of sedition, 
 were then common. The government was thrown 
 into tremulous perturbation by the slightest ap- 
 pearance of commotion, and was prepared to visit 
 with severe penalties the slightest appearance of 
 disaffection. In the present day we experience a 
 difficulty in imagining the watchful solicitude with 
 which those who held the reins of power in the 
 beginning of the French war looked upon men 
 who were liberal in their opinions, or who could 
 think without abhorrence of French politics. James 
 Montgomery shared with almost all ardent and 
 enthusiastic young men of the time, a predilection 
 for liberal sentiments. To use his own phrase, 
 
102 
 
 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 every pulse of his heart was beating in favor of 
 the popular doctrines. His position, too, was sing- 
 ularly adapted to arm against him the rigors of 
 those in power. Mr. Gales, of the "Sheffield 
 Register," with whom he was at first associated 
 in the management of the " Iris," was very ob- 
 noxious to government, and the accumulated ha- 
 tred which had been entertained for the senior 
 partner was transferred, apparently with handsome 
 interest, to the junior. He was in fact pitched 
 upon as the scape-goat to bear much. When the 
 wolf has his eye on the Iamb, the most inexpug- 
 nable syllogisms on the part of the fated victim 
 are found ineffective. " If you are iimocent, your 
 partner is guilty, and it is all one," was, in effect, 
 the language of the government in prosecuting 
 Mr. Montgomery. The proximate circumstances 
 of his arrest and conviction are worth relating ; 
 they give us a slight but clear glance into the 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Gales, during the time of his connection 
 with that printing-office which ultimately became 
 Mr. Montgomery's, had an apprentice concerning 
 whom two fects are known : the first is, that his 
 name was Jack ; the second, that ho, on one oc- 
 casion, being of patriotic temper, set up types in 
 the office, for the printing of a certain song — the 
 composition of Mr. Scott, of Dromore — in jubi- 
 lant commemoration of the destruction of the Bas- 
 tille. ■ It had been composed in 1792, and alluded, 
 in denunciatory patriotic tone, to the invasion of 
 
JAMES M0NTG0MB3JY. 103 
 
 France by the Austrians and Prussians under 
 Brunswick. The types set up by Jack were not 
 taken down by that personage, but remained 
 standing in the office until Mr. Montgomery be- 
 came sole editor ; the precise date of Jack's oper- 
 ations is uncertain. About a month after the com- 
 mencement of Mr. Montgomery's connection with 
 the "Iris," a ballad-seller happened to pass the 
 office-door; a printer in the establishment, hear- 
 ing the proclamation of the wares, was attracted 
 by its being in the voice of an old acquaintance ; 
 he called him in, and, by way of civility, he point- 
 ed out to him Jack's songs, with the suggestion 
 that they might enable him to turn a penny. The 
 suggestion was adopted, and the ballad-seller came 
 to an arrangement with Mr. Montgomery, to whom 
 the printer referred him, for a certain number of 
 copies. The copies were duly received and paid 
 for. "Two months afterward," in Mr. Montgom- 
 ery's words, " one of the town constables waited 
 upon me, and very civilly requested that I would 
 call upon him at his residence in the adjoining 
 street. Accordingly I went thither, and asked 
 him for what purpose he wanted to see me. He 
 then produced a magistrate's warrant, charging 
 me with having, on the 16th day of August pre- 
 ceding, printed and published a certain seditious 
 libel respecting the war then raging between his 
 Majesty and the French government, entitled ' A 
 Patriotic Song, by a clergyman of Belfast.' I was 
 quite puzzled to comprehend to what production 
 
104 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 from my press the charge alluded, not the remotest 
 idea of the ballad-seller occurring to me at the mo- 
 ment. Accordingly, I expressed my ignorance, 
 and begged to see the paper that contained the 
 libel. He then showed me a copy of the song 
 which I had allowed to be printed, as aforemen- 
 tioned, at the request of a hawker whom I had 
 never seen before nor since. I said immediately, 
 ' I recollect that very well ; but this song cannot 
 be a libel on the present war, because it was pub- 
 lished, to my knowledge, long before hostilities 
 between England and France began in 1793, hav- 
 ing been composed for an anniversary celebration 
 of the destruction of the Bastille, and referring 
 solely to the invasion of France by the Austrian 
 and Prussian armies under the Duke of Brunswick, 
 in July, 1792.' That, however, was a question not 
 to be settled between the constable and me. The 
 former, on further inquiry, told me that on the 
 16th of August, as he was going down the High 
 Street, he observed the aforesaid ballad-monger, 
 and heard him crying, ' Straws to sell !' As it was 
 his business to look after vagrants, he went up to 
 the man and bought a straw from him, for which 
 he paid a half-penny ; but, complaining that it was 
 a dear bargain, the other gave him one of these 
 songs to boot. On looking at the contents, he 
 thought there was something not right about them, 
 or the manner of their disposal. Hereupon he told 
 the chapman that he would be a wholesale cus- 
 tomer, and take both himself and his stock into 
 
JAMES MONTGOMEIJY. 105 
 
 safe Ivcepiiig. The prisoner, terrified at the thought 
 of going to jail, immediately informed him how, 
 where, and from whom he had got the papers. 
 He then took him before a magistrate, who, on 
 hearing the case, committed the culprit to Wake- 
 field House of Correction as a vagrant, where he 
 had been detained till the West Riding sessions, 
 on the 16th of October, the day on which it had 
 been deemed expedient to arrest me as the princi- 
 pal in the afiTair. All this was news to me, and 
 quite as unwelcome as it was amusing and instruc- 
 tive. The trick of selling a straw, and giving 
 something not worth one with it, was a lesson 
 which, having never learned before, certainly re- 
 duced to the amount of its value, the vast stock of 
 ignorance of the world with which I had set oirt 
 in it ; which, however, was otherwise so rapidly 
 diminishing by my daily experience, that I had a 
 fair prospect of becoming, within a reasonable 
 time, as wise in my generation as the people with 
 whom I had to deal then and in the sequel." 
 
 This august and momentous matter — which, 
 among other imposing results, furnished some re- 
 spectable solicitor with a bill of costs, afforded 
 occasion for the display of much forensic and 
 oratorical ability, learned gentlemen perorating 
 for more than five hours. All this eloquence has 
 happily passed into its final repose, but its result 
 was, that Mr. Montgomery was sentenced to " three 
 months' imprisonment in the castle of York, and a 
 fine of twenty pounds." This was not the last 
 
106 FAMOUS 130YS. 
 
 time Mr. Montgomery experienced the eifl^^ts of 
 that hatred with which he was regarded hy the 
 pubhc authorities. Within a sliort perioll after 
 his first incarceration, he was again brought to 
 trial, and sentenced to six months' imprisonment 
 in York Castle, to pay a fine of thirty pounds to 
 the king, and to give security to keep the peace 
 for two years. This time, if not equity, there was 
 at least law on the side of the prosecution, and 
 Mr. Montgomery expresses himself as on the w^hole 
 satisfied. 
 
 For no less a period than nine months, then, 
 within a year and a. half, was James Montgomery 
 the inmate of a prison. It did not break his heart ; 
 and in two epistles to a friend, published under 
 the inviting title of " The Pleasures of Imprison- 
 ment," he gives a graphic, interesting, and hearty 
 account of his daily proceedings. An extract 
 from this clever Jeu cfesprit cannot fail to interest 
 readers ; it is a good instance of a brave hpart 
 looking a sour fortune resolutely in the face : 
 
 " Sometimes to fairyland I rove ; 
 Those iron rails become a grove ; 
 These stately buildings fall away 
 To moss-grown cottages of clay ; 
 Debtors are changed to jolly swains, 
 Who pipe and whistle on the plains ; 
 Yon felons grim, with fetters bound, 
 Are satyrs wild with garlands crown'd; 
 Their clanking chains are wreaths of flowers; 
 Their horrid cells ambrosial bowers ; 
 The oaths, expiring on their tongues, 
 
JAMES MONTGOMEEY. 107 
 
 Are metamorphosed into song:s ; 
 While wretched female prisoners, lol 
 Are Dian's nymphs of virgin snow. 
 Those hideous walls with verdure shoot ; 
 These pillars bend with blushing fruit; 
 That dunghill swells into a mountain ; 
 The pump becomes a purling fountain ; 
 The noisome smoke of yonder mills 
 The circling air with fragrance fills ; 
 This horse-pond spreads into a lake, 
 And swans of ducks and geese I make; 
 Sparrows are changed to turtle-doves, 
 That bill and coo their pretty loves ; 
 Wagtails, turned thrushes, charm the vales. 
 And tomtits sing like nightmgales. 
 No more the wind through keyholes whistles, 
 But sighs on beds of pinks and thistles; 
 The rattling rain, that beats without, 
 And gurgles down the leaden spout, 
 In light delicious dew distils, 
 And melts away in amber rills; 
 Elysium rises on the green, 
 , And health and l^eauty crown the scene." 
 
 " Rex V. Montgomery" appears not to have had 
 a very effective victory; the young heart shows 
 no symptom of breakage. Prisons, m fact, seem 
 to have no terrors fit to tame the energy or re- 
 strain the flights of genius. 
 
 In the summer of 1796, Mr. Montgomery Avas 
 finally released from prison, and re-commenced his 
 editorial functions. 
 
 In the history of Mr. Montgomery we cannot 
 fail being much struck with the elastic irrepressible 
 strength of his nature. Scorning the confinement 
 
108 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 of a " small retail concern," he burst its bonds in 
 early boyhood, impelled by the half-conscious 
 power which lay within him, and lured by the 
 shadowy air-castles of fame to which young Hope 
 so confidently pointed in the distance. The pal- 
 aces, which looked so fair and so easy of access, 
 of course dissolved on approach, and left the 
 young struggler on the arid sand. But he flinched 
 not ; he fought on ; and, in a period which may be 
 considered remarkably short, he cleared his way to 
 an honorable standing-point. Then he was thrown 
 into prison ; surely that would daunt the young 
 enthusiast. It did not daunt him. He had his 
 dog " Billy," 4;he kindest of four-footed friends ; 
 and there was " Ralph" — 
 
 " A raven grim, in black and blue, 
 As arch a knave as e'er you knew; 
 Who hops about with broken pinions, 
 And thinks these walls his own dominions. 
 This wag a mortal foe to Bill is ; 
 They fight like Hector and Achilles." 
 
 Besides all which, his fancy could at any moment 
 convert the felons into satyrs, and the felonesses 
 into Dian's nymphs of virgin snow. So that, on 
 the w^hole, it was found a matter of extreme diffi- 
 culty to break his spirit ; and, finally, it was 
 deemed wisest to abandon the attempt. At first 
 there was " exultation" over his " fidl ;" but, when 
 it was found that the exultation had to feed itself 
 on " Prison Amusements" and the like, it subsided 
 
JAMES MONTGK)MEEY. 109 
 
 into a low moan, and finally ceased. " They were 
 mistaken," says Montgomery, with pardonable 
 pride, "and so soon, as well as so thoroughly, 
 were they convinced of their mistake, that from 
 that day I do not remember I ever again ex- 
 perienced any annoyance from one of them. Twice, 
 indeed, in later years, I was menaced with legal 
 visitation from persons who did not avow them- 
 selves openly, but who, when they might have 
 fought, exercised 'the best part of valor,' and in 
 their 'discretion' let me alone." Whether let 
 alone or not, Mr. Montgomery put his arm to the 
 wheel with determined energy; and, gradually 
 quelling all appearance of opposition, he went on 
 with an ever-widening circle of friendship and 
 fame, until he became an object of pride and 
 respect to his townsmen. 
 
 In 1825, he withdrew from the discharge of 
 editorial functions in connection with the " Iris," 
 and on that occasion he issued a farewell address 
 to his readers, from which we quote the following 
 general glance at his mode of conducting the 
 journal ; it is the honest, plain-spoken declaration 
 of an upright man, free alike from the blustering 
 pretension of conceit, and the affected modesty 
 of sentimental self-depreciation : 
 
 "From the first moment when I became the 
 director of a public journal, I took my own ground ; 
 I have stood upon it through many years of 
 changes, and I rest by it this day, as having afford- 
 ed me a shelter through the far greater portion of 
 
110 
 
 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 my life, and yet offering me a grave when I shall 
 no longer have a part in any thing done under the 
 Bun. And this was my ground : a plain determin- 
 ation — come wind or sun, come fire or water — to 
 do what was right. I lay stress upon the purpose, 
 not on the performance ; for that was the pole-star 
 to which my compass was pointed, though with 
 considerable variation of the needle ; for, through 
 characteristic weakness, perversity of understand- 
 ing, or self-sufficiency, I have often erred, failed, 
 and been overcome by temptation on the weari- 
 some pilgrimage through which I have toiled — 
 now struggling ' through the Slough of Despond- 
 ency,' then fighting with evil spirits in the 'Valley 
 of Humiliation ;' more than once escaping martyr- 
 dom from ' Vanity Fair ;' and once at least (I will 
 not say when) a prisoner in * Doubting Castle,' 
 under the discipline of 'Giant Despair.' Now, 
 though I am not writing this address in one of the 
 shepherd's tents on the ' Delectable Mountains,' 
 yet, like Bunyan's Christian, I can look back on the 
 past, with all its anxieties, trials, and conflicts, 
 thankful that it is past. Of the future I have little 
 foresight, and I desire none with respect to this 
 life, being content that ' shadows, clouds, and 
 darkness dwell upon it,' if I yet may hope that 
 ' at evening time there will be light.' " 
 
 On Mr. Montgomery's career after his with- 
 drawal from public life, it is not necessary to dilate. 
 A pension of $1,000 per annum was bestowed 
 upon him by her Majesty's Government — a very 
 
JAMES MONTGOMERY. Ill 
 
 happy change, creditable to both parties, since 
 those old days of " Doubting Castle" and " Prison 
 Amusements." A brief survey of Mr. Montgom- 
 ery's character as a poet, will indicate the light 
 which may be reflected from his poetic efforts and 
 the circumstances of their composition upon his 
 general character. 
 
 James Montgomery was an early rhymster. An 
 intense desire of fame possessed him in his boy- 
 hood, and prompted his running away from Ful- 
 neck. With assiduous and unresting endeavor, 
 he pursued the phantom, and found himself led 
 farther and farther into the morass. Fame would 
 not come, and Mr. Montgomery sank from the en- 
 thusiastic ardors of youth into moody dispirit- 
 ment, and an almost total distrust of poetry. He 
 still had enough of vital fire left to enable him to 
 discharge all his office duties ; but the flights of the 
 imagination, and the soft dalliance of the muse, 
 had given place to despondency, and something 
 very like chagrin. There had been, in fact, a 
 radical defect, a deep-lying taint, m the whole 
 mental condition and equipment with which he 
 commenced. This deep-lying morbidity in the 
 youthful bard took the outward shape of a feverish 
 restlessness, a sort of mania, which nothing but 
 fame could allay or satisfy. 
 
 Mr. Montgomery, in telling us of his utmost ab- 
 erration, thus writes: — "The renown which I 
 found to be unattainable at that time, by legiti- 
 mate poetry, I resolved to secure by such means as 
 
112 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 made many of my contemporaries notorious. I 
 wrote verse in the doggerel strain of Peter Pindar, 
 and prose sometimes in imitation of Fielding and 
 Smollett, and occasionally in the strange style of 
 the German plays and romances then in vogue. 
 Effort after effort failed. A Providence of dis- 
 appointment shut every door in my face by which 
 I attempted to force my way to a dishonorable 
 fame. Disheartened, at length, with ill success, I 
 gave myself up to indolence and apathy, and lost 
 seven years of that part of my youth which ought 
 to have been the most active and profitable, in 
 alternate listlessness and despondency, using no 
 further exertions in my ofiice affiiirs than was ne- 
 cessary to keep up my credit under heavy pecu- 
 niai-y obligations, and gradually, though slowly, to 
 liquidate them." 
 
 * But those seven years were by no means lost. 
 Disappointment, trial, and the experience of failure, 
 are a valuable discipline for any man. In this 
 period of comparative rest, Mr. Montgomery's 
 powers had time to strengthen, amplify, and set- 
 tle ; his resolves became firmer, his energy more 
 enduring, and his whole manhood more fully devel- 
 oped. The first wild herbage fell swiftly into 
 decay — ^into total forgetfulness and dissolution; 
 and lo ! in the fresh beauty of a second spring, 
 there arose upon its decayed masses a healthy and 
 umbrageous foliage. About the year 1803, Mr. 
 Montgomery once more attempted to draw a strain 
 of true and noble beauty from his almost forsaken 
 
JAMES MONTGOMEUr. 113 
 
 • 
 
 lyre. He swept the strings with a strength which 
 he had never before shown, and his courage re- 
 vived as he listened to the music. Besides, there 
 was no lack of " applauses," and these always ex- 
 ercised a powerful influence on Mr. Montgomery. 
 The result was, that he fixed his eye on the laurel 
 cro\vn with a more resolute and a nobler ambition 
 than heretofore ; and on his banner, under which 
 to conquer or to die, he inscribed the motto — 
 " Give me an honest fame, or give me none." 
 
 Mr. Montgomery's manhood had now attained 
 its ultimate development: fame he ardently de- 
 sired, but an honest fame it must be ; and, girding 
 up his loins, he commenced a new poetic career. 
 " The Wanderer of Switzerland and other Poems" 
 were published early in 1806. This small volume 
 met with speedy and extensive popularity ; edition 
 upon edition being called for, to the number of ' 
 thirteen. 
 
 After this appears " The West Indies" — a poem 
 in four parts, in celebration of the abolition of 
 slavery in the West Indian Islands by the British 
 legislature — a subject on which the author had 
 very decided oi:)inions, and very deep feelings ; 
 "The World before the Flood," a poem of a purely 
 imaginative kind ; " Greenland," and " The Pelican 
 Island ;"beside a large number of smaller pieces — 
 all of which met with extensive popularity. 
 
 Early inured to hardship and toil, Mr. Mont- 
 gomery struggled long and dauntlessly, until, at 
 an early age, he attained an honorable and import- 
 8 
 
114: FAMOTTS BOYS. 
 
 ant station in society. During the noontide of his 
 years, unallured into dreamy indolence by the 
 smiles of the Muses, he devoted himself, with 
 manly energy, to the prosaic but honorable and 
 responsible task of conducting a newspaper. He 
 pleaded with zeal, and with what honest insight he 
 possessed, all those great social changes which met 
 his approval. Withal, he found time to utter 
 strains of song which would have been pointed to 
 with pride as the whole work of many a lifetime, 
 which have been such as to spread his name to the 
 ends of the earth, and which have won him a place 
 in the homes and hearts of thousands among his 
 countrymen. 
 
 Bom when the first faint mutterings which fore- 
 boded the mighty thunderbursts that closed the 
 last century were just beginning to be heard, he 
 was an ardent rhyming youngster when Mirabeau 
 was flashing his lightnings over the assembled 
 French legislators in the Salle de Menus, and when 
 the Bastille was tottering before the rabid thou- 
 sands of Paris. He was the proprietor and editor 
 of a journal when Bonaparte was wreathing his 
 brows with the diadem of Charlemagne, and Tous- 
 saint I'Ouverture was minutely mimicking the 
 ceremony in Hayti. He aided with most strenu- 
 ous endeavor the cause of slave emancipation, and 
 celebrated the consummation in song. He saw 
 the world all join in rapturous applause of the 
 genius of Scott ; he witnessed the avatar of the 
 Batanic and sentimental schools ; he heard the jubU- 
 
JAMES MONTGOMERY. 115 
 
 ant critics (deeming their power immortal) laugh 
 and bark at Wordsworth and Coleridge ; he saw 
 Europe sink into troubled slumber after the last 
 thunder-peals of Waterloo. He lived to the time 
 of railways and telegraphs, of steam-looms and 
 cotton kings, of Californias and Bathursts. He 
 saw Byron consigned to a mournful and too early 
 grave, and he waited till Wordsworth sank into 
 his rest like a shock of corn fully ripe. Then, 
 with the snow of upward of fourscore winters on 
 his unclouded brow, he peacefully and hopefully 
 followed — loved by many, honored and respected 
 by all. 
 
NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 
 
 Nathaniel Bowditch, the most distinguished 
 mathematician of his age, was born in Salem, Mas- 
 sachusetts, on the 26th of March, 1773. His an- 
 cestors for several generations were shipmasters, 
 but his father, disheartened at some misfortunes 
 just previous to the commencement of the Revo- 
 lution, gave up his profession, and adopted the 
 trade of a cooper. 
 
 " At the age of ten, young Bowditch lost his 
 mother, to whose instruction he always felt under 
 great obligations. He always spoke of her with 
 the greatest affection. She early taught him to 
 love truth ; and, never, on any account, to tell a 
 lie. She also inculcated upon him a reverence for 
 things sacred. Before the death of his mother, 
 he had attended school for a short time, and his 
 predilections for the favorite studies of his mature 
 years begun early to show themselves. It is stated, 
 that having with some diflSculty obtained permis- 
 sion from the schoolmaster to study arithmetic, a 
 diiRcult sum was given him, apparently for the 
 purpose of rebuking his too eager desire. He 
 
NATHANIEL BOW DITCH. 117 
 
 took it to his seat, nowise discouraged ; and soon, 
 having conquered the difficulty, brought it up 
 with a shining face to the master. Instead, how- 
 ever, of the approbation he expected, he was ac- 
 cused of endeavoring to deceive, by pretending to 
 have done what another had done for him. Nor 
 was he credited when he asserted that he did it 
 himself; and the impatient teacher would have 
 proceeded to punish him, if an elder brother had 
 not interfered and fortified the assertion of Na- 
 thaniel by his own testunony. This circumstance 
 — especially his being charged with falsehood — 
 was one of those which Dr. Bowditch could never 
 forget." 
 
 When a little more than ten years of age, he 
 was compelled by poverty to forego even the 
 benefits of this poor school, and was placed as an 
 apprentice to a ship-chandler. He now began to 
 evince a decided taste for mathematics ; he kept 
 his slate and pencil by his side in the shop, and in 
 every spare moment was busy at his favorite pur- 
 suit. Frequently after the shop was closed, he 
 would remain until nine or ten o'clock busy with 
 his books. Even his holidays were spent in study. 
 He rose very early in the morning — a habit which 
 he always retained; and he declared that those 
 early hours gave him substantially his knowledge 
 of mathematics. When he was only fourteen he 
 made an almanac; and about this period gained 
 his first knowledge of algebra. Although a dili- 
 gent student of mathematics, he did not confine 
 
118 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 his attention to them. There was a good Hbraiy 
 in Salem, which aiforded him an opportunity to 
 study many volumes which were of the greatest 
 consequence to him. His employer abandoning 
 business, he went into the store of Mr. S. E. Ward ; 
 his habits of study went with him. In order to 
 read Newton's Principia, he began, without an 
 instructor, the study of Latin; which he success- 
 fuUy mastered. As he learned Latin in order to 
 read one treatise, he learned French to read an- 
 other. Soon after entering the employment of 
 Mr. Ward, his love of science and study attracted 
 the attention of the Hon. Nathan Reed, at that 
 time an apothecary, in whose shop was a com- 
 panion and friend of Bowditch, with whom he 
 used occasionally to spend his evenings, studying 
 the scientific books which he found there. 
 
 Dr. Bowditch was not accustomed to think that 
 the difficulties he encountered in early life really 
 retarded his progress ; he realized the truth that 
 those who accomplish any thing great in the 
 world must depend upon themselves, and not 
 upon circumstances. Necessity is a stern master, 
 but it is probably the best. " Young Bowditch 
 was taught by it to depend upon himself, while 
 yet he despised no assistance which he could de- 
 rive from others. Li overcoming obstacles, he 
 acquired an elasticity of spirits, which enabled 
 him, as much as any thing could, to succeed in 
 Btill greater undertakings. 'The successful ac- 
 compUshment of the arduous task of translating 
 
NATHANIEL BOWDnCK. 119 
 
 ITiu "Principia," ' says Mr. Reed, 'probably in- 
 duced hiin to commeuce the translation of "La 
 Place." ' The vigor and diligence with which he 
 applied himself to scientific pursuits gained him 
 the friendship and assistance of those who were 
 both willing and able to help him. Among these, 
 beside Mr. Reed, were Drs. Bentley and Prince. 
 The Philosophical Library was kept at the house 
 of the latter of these gentlemen, who received the 
 youthful student at all times with the greatest 
 kindness, and rendered him all the assistance in 
 his i:/Ower. 
 
 "In 1794, Mr. Bowditch, whose reputation for 
 knowledge and fidelity was thoroughly established, 
 was employed, in company with Mr. John Gibaut, 
 to make a thorough survey of the town of Salem. 
 This task was performed very satisfactorily, and 
 with it may be considered as ending the first epoch 
 of his life. He had now arrived at the verge of 
 manhood, with greater mathematical attainments, 
 probably, than any one of his age in the State, 
 with a character unsullied, enjoying the entire 
 confidence of his employers, and with good pur- 
 poses and resolutions for the future. 
 
 "In the year 1795, he engaged to sail with his 
 friend Captain Gibaut on a voyage to the East 
 Indies. Before the vessel sailed. Captain Gibaut 
 relinquished the command, and his place was taken 
 by Captain Prince. This made no dilQference with 
 Mr. Bowditch, who sailed as clerk. They went 
 to the Isle of Bourbon, where they remained five 
 
120 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 months, and returned to Salem after exactly a 
 year's absence. His second, third, and fourth voy- 
 ages were made with the same captain. During 
 these voyages, he employed his leisure time, which 
 was considerable, in mathematical studies, or in 
 learning such languages as he thought would be 
 of value to him, or in profitable reading. He 
 thus perfected himself in French, and acquired a 
 good knowledge of Italian, Spanish, and Portu- 
 guese. It may as well be mentioned here, that 
 his method of learning a new language was gen- 
 erally to obtain a New Testament in the language, 
 and, with the aid of a dictionary, to commence 
 immediately the work of translation. At the age 
 of forty-five, he learned the German, for the sake 
 of reading certain mathematical works. His 
 library, at his death, contained the New Testa- 
 ment in more than twenty-five languages, and the 
 dictionaries of a still larger number." 
 
 It appears that he was not only desirous to ac- 
 quire knowledge, but anxious to diffuse it. Among 
 the sailors he w^as eminently popular, and made the 
 ship a perfect school of learning. Instead of long 
 yarns they had recourse to slates tmd pencils, and 
 their leisure was employed in attempts to work 
 lunar observations. Bowditch's habits at this time 
 have been very accurately described by a com- 
 panion : — " His practice was to rise at an early 
 hour, and pursue his studies till breakfast ; imme- 
 diately after which he walked rapidly for half an 
 hour, and then went below to his studies till half 
 
NATHAinEL BOWDITCH. 121 
 
 past eleven o'clock, when he returned, and walked 
 till the hour at which he commenced his meridian 
 observations. Then came dinner, after which he 
 was engaged in his studies till five o'clock ; then 
 he walked till tea-time, and after tea was at his 
 studies till nine o'clock in the evening. From this 
 hour till half past ten o'clock he appeared to have 
 banished all thoughts of study, and while walking 
 he would converse in the most lively manner, 
 giving us useful information, intermixed with 
 amusing anecdotes and heai-ty laughs, making the 
 time delightful to the officers who walked with 
 him, and who had to quicken their pace to ac- 
 company him. Whenever the heavenly bodies 
 were in proper distance to get the longitude, 
 night or day, he was sure to make his observa- 
 tions once, and frequently twice in every twenty- 
 four hours, always preferring to make them by 
 the moon and stars, on account of his eyes. He 
 was often seen on deck at other times walking 
 rapidly, and apparently in deep thought ; and it 
 was well understood by all on board that he was 
 not to be disturbed, as we supposed he Avas solving 
 some difficult problem ; and when he darted be- 
 low, the conclusion was that he had got the idea. 
 If he were in the fore part of the ship when the 
 idea came to him, he would actually run to the 
 cabin, and his countenance would give the expres- 
 sion that he had found a prize." 
 
 The niceties of Bowditch's observations enabled 
 him to detect many errors in the existing books on 
 
122 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 navigation. In 1802, he published his "Practical 
 Navigator," a work of inestimable value to the 
 maritime world, and which gave the author a 
 wide-spread reputation. He now abandoned the 
 sea as a profession ; he had a reputation upon 
 which to repose, and had been honored by several 
 learned societies. Harvard University had con- 
 ferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts, 
 and he was elected member of the American 
 Academy of Arts and Sciences. By his own 
 prodigious exertions he had worked his way up 
 into honorable recognition in the scientific world ; 
 his name extended not only over America but Eu- 
 rope. The royal societies of Edinburgh, Dublin, 
 London, Palermo, and Berlin, elected him to hon- 
 orary membership ; and m addition numerous 
 similar honors were conferred upon him by the 
 Korthern and Southern societies of his own coun- 
 try. He had contributed more practical benefit 
 to the science of navigation than perhaps any 
 dozen men before him. But Dr. Bowditch (he 
 received the degree of Doctor from Harvard in 
 1816) rests his fame for scientific knowledge upon 
 the translation of La Place's Mecanique Celeste^ 
 and the commentary with which he accompanied 
 it. This masterly production — describing the 
 entire mechanism of the heavens on mathemati- 
 cal principles — it was his object to reproduce, sup- 
 plying the deficient steps in the difficult demon- 
 strations. It was a Herculean task. In almost 
 every page the notes exceeded the text, and have 
 
NATHA]^IEL BOWDITCH. 123 
 
 a value almost equal to the original matter — a work 
 which was the fruit of sixty years' incessant medi- 
 tation, surrounded and aided by all the scientific 
 men of France. 
 
 Dr. Bowditch died in Boston, March 1838, in 
 the sixty-fifth year of his age. At the news of his 
 death, the flags were hoisted at half-mast in many 
 of our cities, and by American vessels, as well as 
 by many English and Russian in Cronstadt. A 
 badge of mourning was adopted by the pupils of 
 the naval school of the United States. And thus 
 were honors conferred upon a poor ship-boy, who, 
 because he was studious, zealous, and of sterling 
 moral qualities, raised himself from his humble 
 position to exalted honors ! 
 
IIEIS'EY HAYELOCK. 
 
 The sacred principles of Christianity are of uni- 
 versal application, adapted to every profession, and 
 every condition of human life, and capable of ac- 
 commodating themselves to the various exigencies 
 of mankind, amidst all the difficulties of the most 
 arduous duty or the most perilous enterprise. In 
 every possible circumstance in which man can be 
 placed, they are calculated to dignify and to en- 
 noble the individual who lives and acts under 
 their influence. This inherent quality of universal 
 adaptation — which may justly be considered as 
 one of the many striking evidences of the divine 
 origin of our most holy faith — has been frequently 
 exemplified in the history of eminent Christians 
 belonging to the profession of arms — a profession, 
 the engagements and temptations of which cannot 
 be said to be peculiarly favorable to the practice 
 of religion. The brave and heroic soldier, whose 
 history we are now to notice, affords an admirable 
 example of what religion can effect amidst circum- 
 stances most unfavorable to its development. 
 
 Henry Havelock was born at Bishop Wear- 
 
HENRY HAVELOCK. 125 
 
 mouth on the 5th of April, 1795 His father was 
 descended from a family who formerly resided at 
 Grimsby, in Lincolnshire. He was engaged in 
 shipbuilding and commerce at Sunderland, but in 
 1799 settled in the county of Kent, where he pur- 
 chased an estate called Ingress, near Dartford. 
 After obtaining his earliest education at a school 
 at Dartford, Henry Havelock was sent to the 
 Charterhouse in 1804, where, among his school 
 companions, were several boys who have since be- 
 come distinguished in life. While at the Charter- 
 house he occupied a respectable place in his class, 
 and although remarkably expert in all boyish 
 amusements, he was of a thoughtful, meditative 
 turn of mind. He had been early impressed with 
 the truths of religion by his excellent mother, who 
 was accustomed to assemble her children together, 
 in her own apartment, for prayer and the study of 
 the Scriptures. The early impressions thus made 
 began to produce their result at the Charterhouse, 
 Tvhere Henry Havelock and several other boys — 
 afterward eminent in their respective professions 
 — were accustomed to meet together privately for 
 the purpose of reading sermons and conversing 
 upon the subjects they read. And that his religi- 
 ous impressions must have produced considerable 
 effect in his demeanor, we may readily judge from 
 the circumstance that he was subjected to no small 
 amount of scorn and ridicule from his companions, 
 who called him " Methodist," and " canting hypo- 
 crite ;" taunts, however, which he bravely endured. 
 
126 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 His relatives wished him to adopt the law as his 
 profession ; and his thoughtful, studious habits, ac- 
 quired and fostered at the Charterhouse, seemed 
 to warrant their desire. He was accordingly- 
 placed as a pupil with an eminent barrister, under 
 whose care he entered on his legal studies. Prob- 
 ably, however, he had no great taste for the pro- 
 fession, and his mother seemed to be aware of this, 
 and to have perceived in him manifest tendencies 
 toward the profession of arms, in the great interest 
 he took in every thing relating to military aifairs. 
 Her impression proved to be correct, although she 
 did not Uve to see it verified. 
 
 In 1815 — five years after her death — ^he re- 
 nounced the law forever, and yielding, to use his 
 own words, " to the military propensities of his 
 race," entered the army as an oflScer of the Rifle 
 Brigade. " No very active service awaited him 
 for some time. ' He served,' he writes, * in Eng- 
 land, Ireland, and Scotland, in the interval be- 
 tween his first nomination and the year 1823, 
 traveled in France and the north of Italy, read a 
 good deal in a discursive way, and acquired some 
 knowledge of his profession which was useful to 
 him in after days.' Again was it his lot to fall in 
 with men of mark, whose names were to become 
 afterward illustrious and renowned. ' He was sub- 
 altern in the 95th Rifle Brigade, and the present 
 Sir Harry Smith, the victor of Aliwal, was his 
 captain. Some time elapsed, and he was at length 
 induced to look for an exchange. The augmenta^ 
 
HENRY HAVELOCK, 127 
 
 tion of the 13th Light Infantry taking place, he 
 was transposed to that regiment. He embarked 
 for India in January, 1823. It was his own choice 
 to serve in this part of the world, and he had fitted 
 himself for Indian service by studying Hindos- 
 tanee and Persian under Dr. Gilchrist, in London, 
 before he left." The lieutenant was now at sea, 
 when an event occurred in relation to what he 
 deemed ' the most important part of the history 
 of a man's life,' which he attributed most grate- 
 fully to the providence of a gracious God. For 
 years had he known what it was to be anxious 
 about his soul, and also about the performance of 
 the divine will. Life had not been given to him 
 to be spent exactly as he pleased. The Scriptures 
 had not been put into his possession to be set at 
 naught or disregarded. The Son of God had not 
 died for him in sacrifice for sin, without having 
 the strongest claim upon him for the most grate- 
 ful and responsive love. All this had been at work 
 upon him for years, with more or less activity and 
 power ; and it was at work upon him when he set 
 sail for India. His condition appears to have 
 been that of feeling after God, if happily he might 
 find him. Somewhat like his military predecessor 
 mentioned in the tenth chapter of the Acts of the 
 Apostles, the centurion of the Italian band at 
 Caesarea, Havelock was a devout man, and one 
 that prayed to God alway ; but he needed more 
 instruction about the perfect freeness of salvation, 
 or, at least, a clearer conception of his own wel- 
 
128 FAMOUS EOYS. 
 
 come to the immediate participation of all that 
 Christ had lived and died to procure. He needed, 
 in fact, very much what Cornelius needed : and in 
 his sovereignty God supplied the need. The set 
 time to favor the devout inquirer came. Thus 
 runs his account of the blessing which was so 
 opportunely vouchsafed : — ' A far more important 
 event, as regarded the interests of the writer, 
 ought to have been recorded whilst narrating the 
 events of 1823; for it was while he was sailing 
 across the wide Atlantic toward Bengal, that the 
 Spirit of God came to him with its offers of peace 
 and mandate of love, which, though for some time 
 resisted, were received, and at length prevailed. 
 There was wrought that great change in his soul 
 which has been productive of unspeakable advan- 
 tage to him in time, and he trusts has secured him 
 happiness through eternity. The " General Kyd," 
 in which he was embarked, conveyed to India 
 Major Sale, destined thereafter to defend Jellala- 
 bad ; but she also carried out an humble, unpre- 
 tendhig man, James Gardner, then a lieutenant in 
 the 13th, now a retired captain, engaged in Home 
 Missionary objects and other works of Christian 
 benevolence at Bath. This excellent person was 
 most influential in leading Havelock to make 
 public avowal, by his works of Christianity, in 
 earnest.' . . In a narrative written by him of 
 the occurrences of that time, he writes : — * He was 
 in garrison with his regiment at Fort William, 
 Calcutta, when, in April, 1824, war was declared 
 
I 
 
 HENBY HAVELOCK. 129 
 
 against the Burmans. He was thereupon appoint- 
 ed to the general staff of Sir Archibald Campbell 
 as deputy-assistant adjutant-general at head-quar- 
 ters. He proceeded to Rangoon, and took part in 
 the actions near it. Thousands there fell victims 
 to the climate, and his health having been for the 
 first time broken in upon by an attack of liver 
 complaint, he was compelled to return, first to 
 Calcutta, and then to Bombay and the Deccan.' 
 The change of air and the relaxation had a most 
 favorable effect in the restoration of his health. 
 ' He sailed back by Madras to Rangoon, found the 
 army at Prome, and fought with it at Napadee, 
 Patanago, and Pagham-Myo. On the conclusion 
 of the peace at Yandabq, he was associated with 
 Lieutenant-Colonel, then Captain, Lumsden, of the 
 Bengal ArtUlery, and with Dr. Knox, of the 
 Madras Army, in a mission to the Burman capital 
 at Ava, and they had audience of the monarch.' " 
 
 The following interesting circumstances are re- 
 lated of this Christian soldier, which are highly 
 characteristic of the earnestness and sincerity of 
 his religious professions: — "During his sojourn 
 in Rangoon, Havelock kept up his practice of as- 
 sembling his men for religious worship and in- 
 struction. He was also busily occupied in holding 
 back the soldiers from the excesses to which, in a 
 captui'fed city like Rangoon, there were so many 
 strong inducements. Abstemious himself, if not 
 altogether an abstainer from alcoholic beverages, 
 he went about imploring the men to keep clear of 
 9 
 
130 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 intemperance. * There "is no such soldier in the 
 world,' he used to say, ' as the English soldier, if 
 he can be kept from drink.' And, believing that 
 the strength of Christian principle was the only 
 effectual safeguard against the evil, he labored to 
 bring it into existence and operation. He would 
 warn and encourage, as best he could, leaving it 
 with God to give the blessing. There is in Ran- 
 goon a famous heathen tem23le devoted to the 
 service of Boodh, which is known as The Magnifi- 
 cent Shivey Dagoon Pagoda. It is deemed the 
 glory of the city. Of a chamber in this building 
 Havelock obtained possession for his own pur- 
 poses. All around the chamber were smaller 
 images of Boodh, in the usual position, sitting with 
 their legs gathered up and crossed, and the hands 
 resting on the lap, in symbol and expression of 
 repose. No great changes were necessary to pre- 
 pare the place for Christian service. It needed no 
 ceremonial exorcising to make it fit either for 
 psalmody or prayer. Abominable idolatries had 
 been witnessed there beyond all doubt, but no 
 sacerdotal purifications were requisite ere adora- 
 tion of the true God could be ofiered, and service 
 vrell-pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ. Have- 
 lock remembered well that ' neither in this mount- 
 ain nor yet at Jerusalem' were men to worship the 
 Father now. To the true worshipers any* place 
 might become a place for worship. Even the 
 pagoda of Shivey Dagoon might be none other 
 than the house of God and the gate of heaven. 
 
HENRY HAVELOCK. 131 
 
 Accordingly, it was announced that that would be 
 the place of meeting. 
 
 "An officer relates that, as he was wandering 
 round about the pagoda on one occasion, he heard 
 the sound, strange enough as he thought, of sing- 
 ing. He listened, and found that it was certainly 
 psalm-singing. He determined to follow the sound 
 of its source, and started for the purpose. At 
 length he reached the chamber, and what should 
 meet his eye but Havelock, with his Bible and 
 hymn-book before him, and more than a hundred 
 men seated around him giving earnest heed to his 
 proclamation to them of the glad tidings of great 
 joy. How had they got their light by which to 
 read, for the place was in dark shade ? They had 
 obtained lamps for the purpose, and putting them 
 in order, had lit them, and placed them one by one 
 in an idol's lap. There they were, those dumb but 
 significant lamp-bearers, in constant use ; and they 
 were there, we may be well assured, to suggest 
 stirring thoughts to the lieutenant and his men. 
 How well the 115th Psalm would be understood 
 there ! How impressively some parts of the 1st 
 chapter of the Romans would be explained ! How 
 earnestly the prayer would be offered that the 
 Burmese might be induced, through the power 
 of the Holy Ghost, to cast these and all other idols 
 to the' moles and to the bats ! How gratefully 
 would thanksgiving be offered that he who is our 
 God is the God of salvation, the God and Father 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ !" 
 
132 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 From the period of his arrival in India to his 
 return to Britain, in consequence of ill health, 
 Havelock saw an extraoi'dinary amount of active 
 service, throughout which he displayed on all 
 occasions the highest military skill, consistently 
 maintaining at the same time that devout and 
 religious spirit for which he was so remarkable. 
 It was, however, only after serving twenty-three 
 years as a subaltern that he obtained his captaincy. 
 This promotion was followed by other steps. He 
 gained the rank of Major and the Cross of Com- 
 panion of the Bath in 1843 ; in the following year 
 he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-Col- 
 onel by brevet ; in 1855 he became Adjutant- 
 General to the Forces ; and was Brigadier-General 
 in 1857. 
 
 The name of General Havelock is imperishably 
 associated with the exploits of the British forces 
 during the rebellion in India. In the numerous 
 battles in which his troops were engaged prior to 
 the capture of Cawnpore and the relief of Lnck- 
 now, he displayed an amount of military skill and 
 personal heroism which places him on a level with 
 the most illustrious generals either of ancient or 
 modern times ; but for the many striking incidents 
 which occurred, and in which this distinguished 
 hero took an active part, we must refer our readers 
 to those works which give in detail the history of 
 the frightful occurrences which marked the pro- 
 gress of the rebellion. 
 
 After removing from Lucknow with the garrison 
 
I 
 
 HENRY ^lAVELOCK. 133 
 
 which he had been instrumental in delivering from 
 the imminent peril in which they were placed, 
 General Havelock felt setiously indisposed. It is 
 not improbable that he may have been ill during 
 the tremendous conflict, or rather series of conflicts 
 with the enemy, which preceded his entrance into 
 the besieged Residency, and that the excitement 
 kept him from feeling himself ill, in the same man- 
 ner as a soldier wounded amidst the wild tumult 
 of the fight scarcely feels the hurt. Beyond doubt, 
 too, the fatigue and the privation, and the mental 
 pressure he had endured, could hardly fail to injure 
 one whose o^eneral health a Ions: residence in a hot 
 climate had deteriorated. The symptoms which 
 appeared were those of indigestion and dysentery, 
 and for a short time, under careful medical treat- 
 ment, there seemed to be some degree of improve- 
 ment. In a letter, dated November the 19th. 
 which he wrote to his family, whom he had left at 
 Bonn, he refers to his elevation to the Command- 
 ership of the Bath, to the wound his son had re- 
 ceived, and other matters of interest. This was 
 his last letter. In order to his improvement, he 
 was removed for change of air from Alum Bagh to 
 Sir Colin Campbell's camp at the Dilkoosha. This 
 change was productive of much comfort, and even 
 of improvement, in the symj^toms of his complaint. 
 But the improvement was not permanent, and the 
 disease soon assumed a malignant form, the result 
 of which, in his reduced condition could no longer 
 be doubtful. 
 
134: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 The divine principles which had been his guide 
 through life, did not prove unavailing now in the 
 hour of his extremity. It had been his continual 
 effort to discharge the duties of his station from the 
 highest of all motives — the constraining influence 
 of the love of God ; and the same principles which 
 enabled him to give obedience to the demands of 
 duty also effectually aided him to submit to the 
 divine will by suffering patiently. "The 23d 
 passed," to quote from a biographical sketch of his 
 life, *' in the calmest submission to the Lord's will. 
 Every faculty was active, and every sensibility of 
 his nature in fullest power. No mere indifference 
 was upon him. It was not because he did not 
 choose to realise his position that he contrived to 
 be at peace. He knew that he was about to make 
 the great transition from the life that now is to that 
 which is to come. He remembered his unworthi- 
 ness of all God's favors. He was actually conscious, 
 as he was lying there in his prostration, of his per- 
 sonal desert of banishment from God. But then 
 he was in Christ ; and, being there, it was impossi- 
 ble he should perish. He must needs have ever- 
 lasting life. His illustrious companion, Sir James 
 Outram, having called, he thought it right to say 
 to him what was then upon his mind. ' For more 
 than forty years,' was his remark to Sir James, — 
 for more than forty years, I have so ruled my life 
 that when death came I might face it without fear.' 
 Often had they faced it together, even during that 
 recent memorable advance for the relief of Luck- 
 
HENBY HAVELOCK. 135 
 
 now. There, however, God had averted it ; but 
 here it was present in all its power, and must be 
 met. * So be it' was the imperturbed response of 
 Outram's comrade; 'I am not in the least afraid. 
 To die is gain. I die happy and contented,' he 
 kept on saying, knowing whom he had believed, 
 and persuaded that he was able to keep what he 
 had committed to him until that day. On the 24th 
 his end was obviously near at hand. His eldest 
 son was still his loving and faithful nurse, — himself 
 it should be remembered, a wounded man, and 
 specially needing kindly care. Waiting on his 
 father with unflagging and womanly assiduity, he 
 was summoned to hearken to some parting words. 
 ' Come,' said the disciple thus faithful unto death ; 
 ' come, my son, and see how a Christian can die.' 
 On the 25th, a grave Avas prepared for his remains 
 in the Alum Bagh, and Sir Colin Campbell, with 
 his sorrowing comrades, who had followed him 
 through so many vicissitudes, buried him out of 
 sight, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection 
 unto eternal life." 
 
DAYID LiymGSTONE. 
 
 It is a very old saying, but a very true one, 
 "that truth is stranger than fiction." Who can 
 imagine changes, in fairy land even, greater than 
 those effected by the marvels of science ? Fairies, 
 genii, gnomes, dwarfs with golden hair, wonderful 
 lamps, enchanted wands and rings, have all been 
 rivaled long ago by electricity and by steam. 
 Why, that daring " Puck" never conceived of a 
 time so short to put a girdle round the earth, as 
 we can now encircle it with a stream of electricity ! 
 But what was the girdle worth when "put round?" 
 and what is our steam of electricity worth ? The 
 one is the toy of a child, the other a powerful in- 
 strument in the hands of a giant. Many years 
 agone, so it is said, visits could be paid to strange 
 old men and women, who had, amongst other 
 curiosities — stuffed alligators and dried bats being 
 the chief — a marvelous magic mirror, which, after 
 certain cabalistic words had been pronounced, 
 would reflect the image of some dear friend or 
 loved relation for a single instant, and would then 
 Vioiish. Now, by the aid of photography, our 
 
DAVID LIVmGSTONE. 137 
 
 fathers and mothers and loved relatives can peep 
 at a glass four inches square, prepared not with 
 any enchantment, but with a little collodion, sold 
 by most chemists, and their loved images will be 
 reflected and retained for many coming years. 
 And then again, all the stories of convertiug cin- 
 der-girls into princesses, porters and market-men 
 into grand viziers and chief magistrates, by the 
 touch of a wand or the exercise of a wish — why, 
 that is not so marvelous as the reality. Look at 
 this fact in iUustration : — David Livingstone was a 
 poor factory lad ; he is noAV one of the most suc- 
 cessful of travelers, and for his scientific attain- 
 ments the learned societies of all countries have 
 vied to do him honor. He is a gold medalist and 
 corresponding member of the Royal Geographical 
 Societies of London and Paris, and Doctor of Civil 
 Laws of the University of Oxford. 
 
 David's great-grandfather fell at the memorable 
 battle of Culloden : that is something to be proud 
 of; his grandfather, Hke many men of a past race, 
 was intimately acquainted with all the legends 
 and stories which formed the foundation of Sir 
 Walter Scott's " Tales of a Grandfather," and other 
 thrilling narratives. David was a willing and a 
 delighted listener to the recital of these legends. 
 His grandmother, also, had stores of Gaelic songs, 
 which she sang for the amusement of our hero, 
 and which she believed had been composed by 
 captive islanders, languishing hopelessly among 
 the Turks. David's grandfather could trace the 
 
138 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 family tree for six generations ; he could state in- 
 cidents, and give interesting particulars of the 
 various members for so long time back. David 
 remembers with pleasure one fact in connection 
 with his family. A poor islander, one of his an- 
 cestors, who was renowned in the district for great 
 wisdom and prudence, when he was on his death- 
 bed, called all his children round him, and said: 
 " Now, in my lifetime I have searched most care- 
 fully through all the traditions I could find of our 
 family, and I never could discover that there was 
 a dishonest man among our forefathers. If, there- 
 fore, any of you or any of your children should 
 take to dishonest ways, it will not be because it 
 runs in our blood ; it does not belong to you. I 
 leave this precept with you : Be honest." 
 
 David's grandfather, in order to support his 
 family, removed to the neighborhood of the Clyde, 
 near Glasgow, where his sons were received as 
 clerks in the cotton manufactory of Monteith & 
 Co. He acquired a reputation for unflinching 
 honesty, and was employed by the proprietors of 
 the works to convey large sums of moneys to and 
 from Glasgow; and when he had grown old in 
 their service he was pensioned off, so that his de- 
 clining years were passed in comfort. 
 
 David's uncle during the French war entered 
 the army and navy ; his father, however, remained 
 at home engaged in the not very important duties 
 of a small tea-dealer. His kindliness of manner 
 and excellence of disposition caused him to be 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 139 
 
 loved and respected by his children. His example 
 ito his offspring was such as that which is so 
 beautifully and truthfully depicted in Scotland's 
 great poem — " The Cotter's Saturday Kight." 
 He died when Livingstone was on his travels, ex- 
 pecting some day to return and have the pleasure of 
 sitting by the cottage fire to relate his adventures. 
 David was born at the village of Blantyre, 
 Scotland, in or about the year 1817, and when he 
 was ten years of age, he says : — " I was put into 
 the factory as a ' piercer,' to aid by my earnings 
 in lessening my mother's anxiety. With a part of 
 my first week's wages I purchased Ruddiman's 
 ' Rudiments of Latin,' and pursued the study of 
 the language for many years afterward, with im- 
 abated ardor, at an evening school which met 
 between the hours of eight and ten. The diction- 
 ary part of my labors was followed up till twelve 
 o'clock or later, if my mother did not interfere by 
 jumping up and snatching the books out of my 
 hands. I had to be back in the factory by six in 
 the morning, and continue my work, with inter- 
 vals for breakfast and dinner, till eight o'clock at 
 night. I read in this way many of the classical 
 authors, and knew Virgil and Horace better at 
 sixteen than I do now. Our schoolmaster, happily 
 still alive, was supported in part by the company ; 
 he was attentive and kind, and so moderate in his 
 charges, that all who wished for education might 
 have obtained it. Many availed themselves of the 
 privilege ; and some of my school-fellows now 
 
110 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 rank in position far above what tliey ever appeared 
 likely to come to when in the village school." 
 
 Every thing in the shape of good books ; that is, 
 books of travel and treatises upon scientific sub- 
 jects, he read with avidity ; and, from his subse- 
 quent life, there can be no doubt that what he read 
 he remembered — no mere time-killing, but earnest, 
 anxious, thoughtful reading, in order that he might 
 hnow and learn. While he was at his work, even, 
 he managed to turn to good account the stray mo- 
 ments which his employment aiforded him. 
 
 " In recognising the plants pointed out in my 
 first medical book," he writes, " that extraordinary 
 old work on astrological medicine, ' Culpepper's 
 Herbal,' I had the guidance of a book on the plants 
 of Lanarkshire, by Patrick. Limited as my time 
 was, I found opportunities to scour the whole coun- 
 try-side, ' collecting simples.' Deep and anxious 
 were my studies on the still deeper and more per- 
 plexing profundities of astrology, and I believe 
 I got as as far into that abyss of fantasies as my 
 author said he dared to lead me. It seemed peril- 
 ous ground to tread on farther, for the dark hint 
 seemed to my youthful mind to loom toward 
 ' selling soul and body to the devil,' as the price of 
 the unfathomable knowledge of the stars. These 
 excursions, often in company with brothers, one 
 now in Canada, the other a clergyman in the 
 United States, gratified my intense love of nature ; 
 and though we generally returned so unmercifully 
 hungry and fatigued, that the embryo parson shed 
 
DAYID LIVIIS"GSTONE. 141 
 
 tears, yet we discovered so many, to us, new and 
 interesting things, that he was always as eager to 
 join us next time as he was the last. 
 
 " On one of these exploring tours, we entered a 
 limestone quarry — ^long before geology was so pop- 
 ular as it is now. It is impossible to describe the 
 delight and wonder with which I began to collect 
 the shells found in the carboniferous limestone, 
 which crops out in High Blantyre and Cambuslang. 
 A quarryman seeing a little boy so engaged, looked 
 with that pitying eye which the benevolent assume 
 when viewing the insane. Addressing him with, 
 ' How ever did these shells come into these rocks ?' 
 * When God made the rocks, he made the shells in 
 them,' was the damping reply. What would Hugh 
 Miller have thought of this Scotchman ? 
 
 "My reading while at work, he further says, 
 " was carried on by placing the book on a portion 
 of the spinning-jenny, so that I could catch sen- 
 tence after sentence as I passed at my work ; I thus 
 kept up a pretty constant study, undisturbed by the 
 roar of the machinery. To this part of my educa- 
 tion, I owe my present power of so completely ab- 
 stracting the mind from surrounding noises, as to 
 read and write with perfect comfort amidst the 
 play of children or the dancing and songs of sav- 
 ages. The toil of cotton-spinning, to which I was 
 promoted in my nineteenth year, was excessively 
 severe on a slim, loose-jointed lad, but it was well 
 paid for ; and it enabled me to support myself 
 while attending medical and Greek classes in 
 
142 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 winter, also the divinity lectures of Dr. Wardlaw, 
 by working with my hands in summer. I never 
 received a farthing of aid from any one, and should 
 have accomplished my project of going to China as 
 a medical missionary, in the course of time, by my 
 own efforts, had not some of my friends advised 
 my joining the London Missionary Society ; but it 
 was not without a pang that I offered myself, for 
 it was not quite agreeable to one accustomed to 
 work his own way to become in a measure de- 
 pendent on others; and I would not have been 
 much put about though my offer had been re- 
 jected." 
 
 Livingstone does not regret that his first years 
 were devoted to intense labor ; on the contrary, he 
 rejoices that they were so spent. He says: 
 " Looking back now on that life of toil, I cannot 
 but feel thankful that it formed such a material part 
 of my early education ; and, were it possible, I 
 should like to begin life over again in the same 
 lowly style, and to pass through the same hardy 
 training." 
 
 These sentiments are alike creditable to his head 
 and heart. What eminence is there in the world 
 which can equal that which has been won from in- 
 digence and obscurity ? To be born to riches and 
 rank is certainly no disgrace ; but riches and rank 
 do not, of themselves, entitle to honor and esteem. 
 We respect men for their personal merits, for their 
 efforts to acquire knowledge, and to diffuse to 
 others the results of their attainments. These 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 143 
 
 things constitute the true nobleman. If, therefore, 
 we had no other reason to esteem Livingstone, this 
 confession of his, of not only coming from the 
 ranks of the factory workers, but glorying in the 
 fact, secures the admiration of good men, and pre- 
 sents an example for all coming time to every 
 youth and earnest man. 
 
 An observation may be made here, in opposition 
 to the opinion generally entertained, that greatness 
 or eminence is the result of some accident, or pe- 
 culiarity of situation, or class of mind born or in- 
 herited. It was the opinion of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds that " the superiority attainable in any puT- 
 suit whatever, does not originate in an innate 
 propensity of the mind for that pursuit in particu- 
 lar, but depends on the general strength of the 
 intellect, and on the intense and constant applica- 
 tion of that strength to a specific purpose." And 
 in confirmation reference need only be made to the 
 habits of any really great man, who will tell you 
 that the secret of his success has been — application, 
 constant and ever enduring work. David Living- 
 stone, as we have seen, is no exception to this rule. 
 By dint of hard work, he finished his medical 
 course of study, and was admitted a Licentiate of 
 the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons. His de- 
 light on this consummation arose from the fact 
 that he was now better fitted for works of practical 
 benevolence. 
 
 Owing to the China war it was not deemed ad- 
 visable that he should proceed to that coimtry. 
 
144: FAIVIOUS BOYS. 
 
 Hearing the celebrated Robert Moffat preach, upon 
 his return from Africa, he determined, and, acting- 
 uj)on his determination, offered himself to the 
 London Missionary Society to go out to that coun- 
 try. He was, to his great satisfaction, accepted, 
 and returned with Moffat to the Kuruman station. 
 While there, he learned many things which were 
 afterward of great service to him ; made himself 
 acquainted with the language, and learned to ride 
 upon oxen. After leaving Kuruman, he proceeded 
 to Kolobeng, about two hundred miles to the 
 north, where he built mission premises — chapel, 
 school-house, dwelling-house, etc. Desirous of as- 
 certaining the truth of the statement made by 
 the people at the station, that about a month's 
 journey there was a large river and inland sea, he 
 set out on an exploring expedition. Great diffi- 
 culties were encountered in crossing the Sahara 
 desert, but finally the noble river Zouga was 
 reached. Here, impatient of further discoveries, 
 Livingstone got a rude canoe constructed, and 
 committed himself to the mercy of the waters of 
 the newly-discovered river. His object was, if 
 possible, to arrive at the lake Ngami. On the 4th 
 of July, 1849, David reached the broad part of the 
 lake, " when, for the first time, this fine-looking 
 sheet of water was beheld by Europeans." Having 
 ascertained beyond all doubt the existence of this 
 great river and lake, Livingstone planned a fur- 
 ther journey across the Zouga, with the intention 
 of seeing what country lay beyond. In this 
 
DAVID LIVIXG STONE. 145 
 
 second journey he ascertained that the lake was 
 seventy miles in length, about twenty-five miles 
 in breadth, and that it was nearly 3,000 feet above 
 the level of the sea. 
 
 In the December of 1851 he commenced his 
 third journey. This time he packed up all his 
 property, and with his wife and three children 
 started for the interior of Africa. His intention 
 was, if possible, to reach Linyante — a town said to 
 be in existence, and where a friendly chief was 
 said to reside, named Sebitoane. After crossing 
 the Zouga and traveling 200 miles north, he ar- 
 rived at a dried-up salt lake or inland sea, about 
 one hundred miles in length and fifty in breadth ; 
 it was encrusted with pure white salt. Diverging 
 in a north-westerly direction he made the discovery 
 of the splendid river Chobe, which is larger, and 
 surrounded with finer scenery, than the Zouga. 
 After crossing the Chobe, he soon reached Lin- 
 yante, where he was most hospitably received. He 
 remained here some considerable time, occupied in 
 taking observations and noting the manners and 
 customs of the natives. Finding, however, that 
 the place was unfavorable for a missionary station, 
 on account of its inundations, he returned to Kuru- 
 man, and wrote to the directors of the London 
 Missionary Society that he had only half done his 
 work ; but, having had his arm broken by a lion — 
 though that was nothing — and his throat being 
 diseased, he should be compelled to go to the Cape 
 to recruit. 
 10 
 
14:6 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Whilst at Cape Town, where he embarked his 
 wife and family for England, he placed himself 
 nnder the instruction of Mr. Maclear, the astrono- 
 mer-royal, so that in his jonrneys he might be able 
 to take, solar and lunar observations. He was sub- 
 sequently enabled to take 146 latitudes and longi- 
 tudes and about 190 observations; so that now, 
 any person, by using the map made by Living- 
 stone, may go straight to any part of Africa he 
 traversed. 
 
 Livingstone left Kuruman on his fourth journey 
 in June, 1852. He crossed the river Zouga, and 
 the dried salt lake, going in his former westerly 
 direction. On this journey the weather was so 
 bad that his oxen and wagon stuck in the mud, 
 so that he had to go forward almost alone. 
 Making use of a small boat he had brought with 
 him, he cut his way for three days and nights 
 down the river for twenty miles, by which means 
 he arrived at Linyante a second time. The young 
 chief, when he saw Livingstone, lifted up his hands 
 with astonishment, and said, "Well, we did not 
 think any one could reach Linyante in the rainy 
 season, and we intrenched ourselves here that we 
 might never be invaded. You Englishmen must 
 have dropped from the skies on the back of a hip- 
 popotamus." After resting awhile, he again start- 
 ed to reach the western coast, being accompanied 
 by forty-seven of the natives. The chief lent him 
 his canoe, which was twenty inches wide and 
 thirty-four feet long. He and his party reached 
 

 David Livingston studying wliile working in the Cotton Factory. 
 
 Page 147. 
 
DAVED LIVINGSTONE. 147 
 
 St. Paul de Loando, on the western coast, having 
 endured on the journey a variety of perils. When 
 the natives saw the sea their astonishment exceed- 
 ed all bounds. They said, " Our fathers told us 
 the world had no end ; they deceived us ; we have 
 come to the place where the world does end, and 
 the world says, ' I'm done, and there is no more 
 of me, but all the rest is water.' " Now that the 
 natives have seen the sea, they attribute all the 
 wonders they cannot understand to it. When 
 they are asked where the cotton goods come from, 
 they always reply, " From the sea." Hence they 
 have a belief that Englishmen live in the sea. All 
 the natives of North Africa have no other idea. 
 Livingstone, when he passed through the villages, 
 was shown as the man living in the sea. As con- 
 firmation, the natives pointed to his hair, and said 
 that it was all scaled out with water; and when 
 he was accompanied by his friends from Liny ante, 
 the inhabitants, as they passed through the set- 
 tlements, tried to persuade them not to go, " For," 
 said they, "you will be taken down into the sea 
 and eaten." When the party arrived at the coast, 
 Livingstone invited the poor people to go on board 
 some of the ships ; but they were still afraid there 
 was Some truth in the statement. However, when 
 they were told they could go or not as they liked, 
 they consented. After this visit Livingstone was 
 treated with great respect. The marvels of the 
 ships had made an immense impression upon 
 them. 
 
148 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 In 1854, Livingstone commenced Ms last trip, 
 prior to his visiting his father-land. It was his in- 
 tention to reach the other side of the continent of 
 Africa. On this journey, which was full of difficulty 
 and peril, he discovered that the language into 
 which the Scriptures had been translated by Moffiit 
 and Hamilton, was the language spoken throughout 
 Africa. He soon found, also, that which had been 
 the anxious object of his search for six years — a 
 high table land, in every respect well suited for a 
 mission station. On this spot Livingstone founded 
 a mission establishment ; and then only did he re- 
 turn for a brief period to old England. He was 
 anxious to bring over one of the natives, who had 
 served him as a faithful servant, but such an effect 
 was produced upon him by the steam-engines and 
 the other novelties of the vessel, that he jumped 
 over-board in a fit of delirium, and was drowned. 
 
 Livingstone, during his sojourn in Africa, had 
 many narrow escapes from death. One of his hair- 
 breadth adventures he thus narrates : — 
 
 " Returning toward Kuruman, I selected the 
 beautiful valley of Mabotsa as the site of a mis- 
 sionary station; and thither I removed in 1843. 
 Here an occurrence took place, concerning which 
 I have frequently been questioned in England, and 
 w^hich, but for the importunities of friends, I meant 
 to have kept in store to tell my children when in 
 my dotage. The Bakatla of the village Mabotsa 
 were much troubled by lions, which leaped into' 
 the cattle-pens by night and destroyed their cows. 
 
DATID LIVINGSTONE. 149 
 
 They even attacked the herds in open day. This 
 was so unusual an occurrence, that the people 
 believed that they were bewitched — 'given,' as 
 they said, ' into the power of the lions by a neigh- 
 boring tribe.' They went once to attack the ani- 
 mals, but, being rather a cowardly people com- 
 pared to Bechuanas in general on such occasions, 
 they returned without killing any. 
 
 " It is well known that if one in a troop of lions 
 is killed, the others take the hint, and leave that 
 part of the country. So the next time the herds 
 were attacked, I went with the people, in order to 
 encourage them to rid themselves of the annoyance 
 by destroying one of the marauders. We found 
 the lions on a small hill, about a quarter of a mile 
 in length, and covered with trees. A circle of 
 men was formed round it, and they gradually 
 closed up, ascending pretty near to each other. 
 Being down below, on the plain with a native 
 schoolmaster, named Mebalwe, a most excellent 
 man, I saw one of the lions sitting on a piece of 
 rock within the now closed circle of men. Mebal- 
 we fired at him before I could, and the ball struck 
 the rock on which the animal was sitting. He bit 
 at the spot struck, as a dog does at a stick or 
 stone thrown at him ; then leaping away, broke 
 through the opening circle and escaped unhurt. 
 The men were afraid to attack him, perhaps on 
 account of their belief in witchcraft. When the 
 circle was re-formed, we saw two other lions in 
 it ; but we were afraid to fire, lest we should strike 
 
150 I'AMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the men, and they allowed the beasts to burst 
 through also. If the Bakatla had acted according 
 to the custom of the country, they would have 
 speared the lions in their attempt to get out. 
 Seeing we could not get them to kill one of the 
 lions, we bent our footsteps toward the village ; in 
 going round the end of the hill, however, I saw 
 one of the beasts sitting on a piece of rock as 
 before, but this time he had a little bush in front. 
 Being about thirty yards off, I took a good aim at 
 his body through the bush, and fired both barrels 
 into it. The men then called out, ' He is shot, he 
 is shot!' Others cried, 'He has been shot by 
 another man, too ; let us go to him !' I did not 
 see any one else shoot at him, but I saw the lion's 
 tail erected in anger behind the bush, and, turning 
 to the people, said, ' Stop a little till I load again !' 
 When in the act of ramming down the buUets I 
 heard a shout. 
 
 "Starting and looking half round, I saw the 
 lion just in the act of springing upon me. I was 
 upon a little height ; he caught my shoulder as he 
 sprang, and we both came to the ground below 
 together. Growling horribly close to my ear, he 
 shook me as a terrier dog does a rat. This shock 
 produced a stupor similar to that which seems to 
 be felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. 
 It caused a sort of dreaminess, in which there was 
 no sense of pain, nor feeling of terror, though quite 
 conscious of all that was happening. It was hke 
 what patients partially under the influence of 
 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 151 
 
 chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but 
 feel not the knife. This singular condition was 
 not the result of any mental process. The shake 
 annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror 
 in looking round at the beast. This peculiar state 
 is probably produced in all animals killed by the 
 carnivora; and, if so, is a merciful provision by 
 our benevolent Creator for lessenmg the pain of 
 death. 
 
 " Turning round to relieve myself of the weight, 
 as he had one paw on the back of my head, I saw 
 his eyes directed toward Mebdlwe, who was trying 
 to shoot him at a distance of ten or fifteen yards. 
 His gun, a flint one, missed fire in both barrels ; 
 the lion immediately left me, and, attacking Meb^l- 
 we, bit his thigh. Another man, whose life I had 
 saved before, after he had been tossed by a buffalo, 
 attempted to spear the lion while he was biting 
 Mebalwe. He left Mebdlwe and caught this man 
 by the shoulder, but at this moment the bullets he 
 had received took effect, and he fell down dead. 
 The whole was the work of a few minutes, and 
 must have been his paroxysm of dying rage. In 
 order to take out the charm from him, the Bakdtla 
 on the following day made a huge bonfire over the 
 carcase, which was declared to be that of the 
 largest lion they had ever seen. Besides crunching 
 the bone into splinters, he left eleven teeth wounds 
 on the upper part of my arm. A wound from this 
 animal's tooth resembles a gun-shot wound ; it is 
 generally followed by a great deal of sloughing 
 
lift FAMOrS BOYS. 
 
 and discharge, and pains are felt periodically ever 
 afterward. I had on a tartan jacket on the occa- 
 sion, and I believe that it wiped off all the virus 
 from the teeth that pierced the flesh, for my two 
 companions in this affray have both suffered from 
 the peculiar pains, while I have escaped with only 
 the inconvenience of a false joint in the limb. 
 The man whose shoulder was wounded showed 
 me his wound actually burst forth afresh on the 
 same month of the following year. This curious 
 point deserves the attention of inquirers." 
 
 On several other occasions Livingstone was in 
 imminent danger — at times by hunger and thirst, 
 and then his life was in peril by the hands of 
 savages, and the repeated attacks of fever ; while 
 exposure to drought and rains, to heat and cold, 
 make it almost a miracle that he should have been 
 preserved. After braving these dangers he re- 
 turned to his dearly-loved country but for a brief 
 season — scarcely sufiicient to render to his country- 
 xaen an account of his wanderings, and then re- 
 turned to the scene of his usefulness ; this time as 
 an explorer, bearing a government commission, 
 and accompanied by companions suited for observ- 
 ing the various features of a newly opened up 
 country. 
 
 So recently as June, 1859, Sir George Grey re- 
 ceived a letter from the distinguished traveler, 
 containing a sketch of some important geographi- 
 cal discoveries. 
 
DA^^D livingstonp:. 153 
 
 "River Shire, June 1st, 1859. 
 " My dear Sir George : — We have lately dis- 
 covered a very fine lake by going up this river in 
 the steam launch about one hundred miles, and 
 then marching some fifty more on foot. It is called 
 Shirwa, and Lake N'gami is a mere pond in com- 
 parison. It is, moreover, particularly interesting, 
 from the fact reported by the natives on its shores, 
 that it is separated by a strip of land of only five 
 or six miles in width from Nyanja, or Lake 
 N'yinyesi — the stars — which Burton has gone to 
 explore. We could hear nothing of his party at 
 Shirwa, and having got no European news since 
 you kindly sent some copies of the Times last year, 
 we are quite in the dark as to whether he has suc- 
 ceeded or not. Lake Shirwa has no outlet, and 
 its waters are bitter, but drinkable. It abounds 
 in fishes, leeches, alligators, and hippopotami. We 
 discovered also by examining, partly a branch of 
 the Shire, called Ruo, that one portion of Shirwa 
 is not more tlian thirty miles distant from a point 
 that may easily be reached by this launch, which 
 by newspaper measurement draws thirteen inches, 
 and actually thirty-one. The Lake Shirwa is very 
 grand. It is surrounded on all sides by lofty green 
 mountains. Dzomba, or, as people nearest it say, 
 Zpmba, is over 6,000 feet high, of same shape as 
 Table Mountain, but inhabited on the top ; others 
 are equally high, but inaccessible. It is a high 
 land region — the lake itself being about 2,000 feet 
 above the sea. It is twenty or thirty miles wide, 
 
154: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 and fifty or sixty long. On going some way up a 
 hill, we saw in the far distance two mountain tops, 
 rising like little islands on a watery horizon. An 
 inhabited mountain island stands near where Ave 
 first came to it. From the size of the waves it is 
 supposed to be deep. Mr. Maclear will show you 
 the map. Dr. Kirk and I, with fifteen Makololo, 
 formed the land party. The country is well 
 peopled, and very much like Londa in the middle 
 of the country, many streams rising out of bogs — 
 the vegetation nearly identical also. Never saw 
 so much cotton grown as among the Manganga 
 of the Shire and Shirwa Valleys — all spin and 
 weave it. 
 
 " These are the latitudes which I have always 
 pointed out as the cotton and sugar lands ; they 
 are pre-eminently so, but such is the disinterested- 
 ness of some people, that labor, is exported to 
 Bourbon instead of being employed here. The 
 only trade the people have is that of slaves ; and 
 the only symptoms of impudence we met were 
 from a party of Bajana slave-traders ; but they 
 changed their deportment instantly on hearing 
 that we were English, and not Portuguese. There 
 are no Maravi at or near Shirwa ; they are all west 
 of the Shire, so this lake can scarcely be called Lake 
 Maravi ; the Portuguese know nothing of it ; but 
 the minister who claimed (blue book for 1857) the 
 honor of first traversing the African continent for 
 two black men with Portuguese names, must ex- 
 plain why they did not cross Shirwa. It lies some 
 
DATID LIVIXGSTONE. 165 
 
 forty or fifty miles on each side of the latitude of 
 Mozambique. They came to Tete only, and lacked 
 at least four hundred miles of Mozambique. We 
 go back to Shirwa in July, and may make a push 
 for N'yinyesi. 
 
 (Signed) David Livingstone." 
 
 No 4oubt the wonders of Africa are only just 
 entered upon ; and that, if the life of Livingstone 
 is spared, his labors will not only result in incal- 
 culable blessings to the natives, but be the source 
 of material advantages to his own countrymen. 
 This imperfect sketch of Dr. Livingstone may be 
 fittingly closed by the estimate of his character, 
 given at a great meeting held in the Senate House 
 at Cambridge, by the eloquent and learned Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Gladstone. Upon 
 that occasion he said : — 
 
 " Dr. Livmgstone is such a man as raises our 
 idea of the age in which we live. That simplicity 
 inseparable from true grandeur, that breadth and 
 force, that superiority to all worldly calls and en- 
 joyments, that rapid and keen intelligence, that 
 power of governing men, and that delight in 
 governing them for their own good — he has every 
 sign upon him of a great man, and his qualities are 
 precisely those which commend themselves with 
 resistless power to the young by whom we see this 
 building crowded. For, when I stand in this 
 noble structure, I cannot stay for a moment to 
 admire its magnificent proportions. It is not the 
 
156 FAAtOUS BOYS. 
 
 gold, but the temple that sanctified the gold ; it is 
 not the Senate House of Cambridge, beautiful as 
 it is, but it is the minds and hearts of those by 
 whom it is filled, that alone can draw attention 
 for a moment. Let us render to Dr. Livingstone 
 the full tribute of what we feel. Dr. Livingstone 
 is a Christian, a missionary, a great traveler ; he 
 corresponds in every particular to that great name 
 which the admiration of all ages has consecrated 
 — he is a hero. Your own great poet — the great 
 poet of this age — Alfred Tennyson — in his ' Idylls 
 of the King,' a work which has taken its place in 
 the deathless literature of the world, has carried 
 us back to a period of heroic manners, heroic 
 deeds, and heroic characters ; but if the power 
 which he possesses could have gone beyond what 
 it has effected — could have gone beyond the almost 
 living men whom it has portrayed, and could ac- 
 tually have evoked them from the tomb, not one 
 among them, though the ideal of human nature, 
 would have failed to recognise Dr. Livingstone as 
 a brother, and to acknowledge him as his most 
 worthy companion." 
 
OLIYEE EVANS. 
 
 Oliver Evans has been called the Watt of Am- 
 erica. He was bom at Newport, in Delaware, 
 about the year 1755, of respectable parentage. 
 His father was a farmer, and apprenticed Oliver 
 when at the age of fourteen to a wheelright. The 
 lad's education was merely rudimental, but suffi- 
 cient to inspire him with a thirst for knowledge, 
 and he devoted every evening, after the labors of 
 the day, to study. But his master was an illiterate 
 fellow, who, ignorant of books, conceived a con- 
 tempt for book-knowledge in others, and attempted 
 to put a stop to Oliver's unprofitable employment 
 by denying him the use of candles. But Oliver 
 was not so easily thwarted ; he collected shavings, 
 set them in a blaze, and by the light thus afforded 
 continued his studies. Even at this early period 
 he gave evidence of possessing active inventive 
 faculties, and conceived the idea of finding out a 
 method of propelling carriages on common roads 
 without the aid of horses or other animal power. 
 The result of his studies was the conclusion that 
 it was impracticable, until, becoming acquainted 
 with the power of steam, he renewed his experi- 
 
158 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 inent, and confidently declared that he could ac- 
 complish his object. His confident assertions, from 
 one so young, only excited ridicule, and he was 
 obliged temporarily to abandon his scheme. His 
 ingenuity was not confined to his trade; he in- 
 vented a machine for making card-teeth, and 
 exhibited his talents for inventions and new com- 
 binations in various ways. At the age of twenty- 
 five he married, and soon after went into partner- 
 ship with his brothers, who were millers. Here 
 was an admirable field for his talents, and to his 
 many inventions the miller fraternity are greatly 
 indebted. His improvements and inventions were 
 numerous, and very important, but they were re- 
 ceived with opposition from interested sources. 
 He sent his brother through the country to offer 
 his inventions gratis to the first mill in each 
 county that would set them up; but even this 
 liberal offer was unaccepted ; the millers rejected 
 his improvements, derided them, and only at last 
 yielded when compelled to by the few enterprising 
 competitors who at last took them up. 
 
 Meanwhile, although he had obtained a patent 
 for a steam-carriage to run on a common road, the 
 scheme was considered so visionary, he could not 
 induce a capitalist to embark with him in the en- 
 terprise. In 1800 he determined to construct one 
 at his own expense. The result was an engine of 
 a new construction, but which appeared to have 
 been so useful for other purposes, that he again 
 temporarily abandoned his steam-carriage in order 
 
OLIVEK EYAiiS. 159 
 
 to perfect the engine, for which he hoped to obtain 
 a patent. He constructed his model, which was 
 on a large scale, and, in order to bring it to per- 
 fection, expended upon it every shilling he owned. 
 But he still encountered prejudice, even from 
 scientific men. We quote his own words : 
 
 " I could break and grmd three hundred bushels 
 of plaster of Paris, or twelve tons, in twenty-four 
 hours ; and, to show its operations more fully to 
 the public, I applied it to saw stone, on the side of 
 Market street, where the driving of twelve saws in 
 heavy frames, sawing at the rate of one hundred 
 feet of marble in twelve hours, made a great show, 
 and excited much attention. I thought this was 
 sufficient to convince the thousands of spectators 
 of the utility of my discovery, but I frequently 
 heard them inquire if the power could be applied 
 to saw timber as well as stone, to grind grain, 
 propel boats, etc., and, though I answered in the 
 affirmative, they still doubted. I, therefore, de- 
 termined to apply my engine to all new uses, to 
 introduce it and them to the public. This experi- 
 ment completely tested the correctness of my 
 principles. The power of my engine nses in a 
 geometrical proportion, while the consumption of 
 fuel has only an arithmetical ratio, in such propor- 
 tion that every time I added one-fourth more to 
 the consumption of the fuel, its powers were 
 doubled, and that twice the quantity of fuel re- 
 quired to drive one saw would drive sixteen saws 
 at least; for when I drove two saws, the con- 
 
160 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 sumption was eight bushels of coal in twelve 
 hours, but when twelve saws were driven the con- 
 sumption was not more than ten bushels ; so that, 
 the more we resist the steam, the greater is the 
 effect of the engine. On these principles very 
 light but powerful engines can be made, suitable 
 for propelling boats and land-carriages, without 
 the great encumbrance of their weight, as men- 
 tioned in Latrobe's demonstration." 
 
 Mr. Evans applied his engine in 1804 to a 
 dredging apparatus used in the Schuylkill, per- 
 forming all the operations required of it, and 
 propelling the vessel by a wheel in her stern. 
 But the sceptics would not believe, and con- 
 demned this machine for its slowness and weight. 
 The inventor declared, that for a wager of three 
 thousand dollars he could build a carriage to be 
 propelled by steam which would outrun the 
 swiftest horse. But he encountered only doubt 
 and derision, and a proposition which he made to 
 the Lancaster Turnpike Company to construct car- 
 riages on the principle he had invented received 
 no attention from the company. He was dis- 
 heartened, without money, patronage, or sympa- 
 thy, and yet in possession of a secret of transcend- 
 ant importance, which, if duly recognised, would 
 have anticipated the steam-car and the steam-boat 
 by many years — would have poured untold Avealth 
 into the hands of the capitalist that had aided 
 and believed in him. But he was treated as an 
 idler and a visionary — he excited only scorn and 
 
OLIVER EVANS. 161 
 
 contempt. His productions were looked upon as 
 madness, and yet, by the following quotation, we 
 will perceive that his prophesies only fell short of 
 the truth : 
 
 " The time will come," says he, " when people 
 will travel in stages moved by steam-engines from 
 one city to another almost as fast as birds fly — 
 fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Passing through 
 the air with such velocity, changing the scene M 
 such rapid succession, will be the most exhilarating 
 exercise. A steam-carriage will set out from 
 Washington in the morning, the passenger will 
 breakfast in Baltimore, dine at Philadelphia, and 
 sup in New York, the same day. To accomplish 
 this, two sets of rail-ways will be laid, so nearly 
 level as not in any way to deviate more than two 
 degrees from a horizontal line, made of wood or 
 iron, or smooth paths of broken stone or gravel, 
 with a rail to guide the carriages, so that they 
 may pass each other in different directions, and 
 travel by night as well as by day. Engines will 
 drive boats ten or twelve miles per hour, and there 
 will be many hundred steam-boats running on the 
 Mississippi." 
 
 It took thirteen years to introduce his mill in- 
 ventions, and the expenses were so great that his 
 receipts did not meet them. He failed to obtain 
 patents by some informality, and in consequence 
 of a combination of the millers against him, so 
 that these important improvements failed to yield 
 him any reward. Mr. Evans appeared to be un- 
 11 
 
162 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 fortunate, and the world treated him with such 
 neglect that he died poor and broken-hearted. 
 " There is no doubt that, had Evans been favored 
 by circumstances, and by kindly patronage and 
 support, he would have proved himself one of the 
 most distinofuished inventors of the aoje. His ex- 
 periments on the subject of steam-boat navigation 
 were made several years before those of Fulton, 
 and his high-pressure engine was the parent of all 
 steam appliances on rail-road or river." His death 
 took place on the 21st of April, 1819. 
 
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLEEEDGE. 
 
 Coleridge, tjie poet, whose simple, unworldly 
 character is as well known as his genius, seems to 
 have inherited his particular disposition from his 
 father, who was the Rev. John Coleridge, the vicar 
 of Ottery St. Mary, in Devonshire, England. 
 
 Samuel T. Coleridge, the youngest of thirteen 
 children, was born October 21st, 1772. He seems 
 to have been a delicate child, of timid disposition. 
 Being much younger than his brothers, he never 
 came to be a playfellow of theirs, and thus to 
 acquire physical hardihood and activity. " I was," 
 he says, " in earliest childhood huffed away from 
 the enjoyment of muscular activity m play, to 
 take refuge at my mothei*'s side, or on my little 
 stool to read my book, and to listen to the talk of 
 my elders. I was driven from life in motion, to 
 life in thought and sensation. I never played 
 except by myself, and then only acting over what 
 I had been reading or fancying ; or half one, half 
 the other, with a stick cutting down weeds and 
 nettles, as one of the seven champions of Chris- 
 tendom. Alas ! I had all the simplicity, all the 
 docility of a child, but none of the child's habits. 
 
164: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 I never thought as a child, never had the language 
 of a child. I forget whether it was in my fifth or 
 sixth year, but I believe the latter, in consequence 
 of some quarrel between me and my brother, in 
 the first week in October, I ran away from fear 
 of being whipped, and passed the whole night, a 
 night of rain and storm, on a bleak side of a hill 
 on the Otter, and was there found at daybreak 
 without the power of using my limbs, about six 
 yards from the naked bank of the river." 
 
 When but seven years old, his father died, and 
 at the age of ten, he was placed at a school in 
 London, through the influence of Judge Buller, 
 who had been educated by his father. This school 
 — Christ's Hospital — seems to have been at that 
 time conducted in a most miserable and wretched 
 manner ; the children were neglected, unkindly 
 treated, and half starved, excepting those who 
 had friends in the city, who would supply them 
 with a variety of luxuries. While at this school, 
 the foundation of many bodily sufferings were laid 
 which made his life one of sickness and torture. 
 
 " I was a poor, friendless boy," Coleridge says ; 
 " my family, and those who should have cared for 
 me, were fir away. Those few acquaintances of 
 theirs, which they could reckon on, being kind to 
 me, in the great city,' after a little forced notice, 
 which they had the grace to take of me on my 
 first arrival in town, soon grew tired of my holi- 
 day visits. They seemed to them to recur too 
 often, though I thought them few enough; one 
 
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 165 
 
 after another, they all failed me, and I felt myself 
 alone among six hundred playmates. To this late 
 hour of my life do I trace the impressions left by 
 the painful recollections of those friendless holi- 
 days. The long, warm days of summer never re- 
 turn, but they bring with them a gloom from the 
 haunting memories of those whole day^a leave, 
 when, by some strange arrangement, we were 
 turned out for the Hve-long day, upon our own 
 hands, whether we had friends to go to or not. I 
 remember those bathing excursions to the New 
 river ; how we would sally forth into the fields, 
 and strip under the first warmth of the sun, and 
 wanton like young dace in the streams, gettmg ap- 
 petites for the noon, which those of us that were 
 penniless had not the means of allaymg ; while the 
 cattle and the birds, and the fishes, were at feed 
 about us, and we had nothing to satisfy our 
 cravings ; the very beauty of the day, the exer- 
 cise of the pastime, and the sense of hberty, set- 
 ting a keener edge upon them I How, faint and 
 languid, finally we would return, toward nightfall, 
 to our desired morsel, half rejoicing, half reluctant, 
 that the hours of uneasy liberty had expired ! 
 
 "It was worse, in the days of winter, to go 
 prowling about the streets objectless ; shivering at 
 cold windows of print shops, to extract a little 
 amusement, or, haply, as a last resort, in the hope 
 of a little novelty, to pay a fifty-times-repeated 
 visit to the lions in the Tower, to whose levee, by 
 courtesy immemorial, we had a prescriptive right 
 
166 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 of admission, and where our individual faces 
 would be as well known to the warden as those 
 of his own charges." 
 
 What an amount of cruelty may be perpetrated 
 even under the show of favor ! — what hard days 
 for the stomach, under the guise of holidays! 
 Coleridge was, from all accounts, at this time " a 
 delicate and sufferiiig boy," and readily fell into 
 sedentary, reading habits ; books were his solace ; 
 he was to be found during play hours walking to 
 and fro, or sitting on a step, or in a corner, deeply 
 engaged in some book, paying no attention to what 
 was passing around him, and ofttimes so deep in 
 thought as would cause him to be abstracted and 
 absent-minded. Between the ages of eight to 
 fourteen he was, as he himself terms it, " a play- 
 less day-dreamer." An amusing incident is re- 
 lated of how, on one occasion, his abstraction 
 proved to be the source of much pleasure and 
 benefit to him. Going down the Strand, in one 
 of his day-dreams, fancying himself swimming 
 across the Hellespont, thrusting his hands before 
 him as in the act of swimming, one hand came in 
 contact with a gentleman's pocket. The gentle- 
 man seized his hand, turned round, and looked at 
 him with some anger, exclaiming — " What ! so 
 young, and so wicked !" at the same time accusing 
 him of an attempt to pick his pocket. The fright- 
 ened boy sobbed out his denial of the intention, 
 and explained to him how he thought himself 
 Leander swimming across the Hellespont. The 
 
BAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 167 
 
 gentleman was so struck and delighted with the 
 novelty of the thing, and w4th the simplicity and 
 intelligence of the boy, that he subscribed to the 
 library for him, in consequence of which Coleridge 
 was further enabled to indulge his love of read- 
 ing, which he did to such an extent that he soon 
 exhausted the folios, catalogue and all, of the 
 library, and was always in a low fever of excite- 
 ment. He delighted to crumple himself up in a 
 sunny corner, he says, and read, read, read ; fancy- 
 ing himself on Robinson Crusoe's island, finding a 
 mountain of plum cake, and eating a room for 
 himself, and then eating out chairs and tables — 
 hunger and fancy. 
 
 After a while, when his brother Luke became a 
 Physician of the London Hospitals, he would spend 
 every Saturday with him, delighted if he were per- 
 mitted to hold the plasters, or attend dressings. 
 He plunged headlong into books of medicine — 
 Latin, Greek, or English ; devoured whole medical 
 dictionaries ; then, from physic to metaphysics ; 
 thus speudmg his time until he was nineteen, 
 when he was elected from Christ's Hospital to 
 Jesus' College, Cambridge. Here he made great 
 progress in classical study, and gained much honor 
 by his poetical fame. During the first year he 
 won the prize for the Greek ode ; but as college 
 honors were dependent on a thorough knowledge 
 of mathematics — a study which Coleridge had 
 always hated — he therefore despaired of attaining 
 the honors, and left the university after remaining 
 
168 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 there about two years. On quitting college, it 
 seems that his debts were about one hundred 
 pounds — no groat matter, but to him as over- 
 whelming as if they had been a thousand. He 
 made his way to London, and there, of all things 
 in the world, enlisted for a soldier. The story is 
 very curious, and as it is related by friends, who 
 were intimate with him at different periods of his 
 life, it is no doubt true. 
 
 In a state of great dejection of mind, he strolled 
 about the streets of London till night came on, 
 when he seated himself on the steps of a house 
 in Chancery-lane, speculating on the future. In 
 this situation, overwhelmed with his own j)ainful 
 thoughts, and in misery himself, he had now to 
 contend with the misery of others — for he was 
 accosted by various kinds of beggars, importuning 
 him for money, and forcing on him their real or 
 pretended sorrows. To these applicants he emp- 
 tied his pockets of his remaining cash. Walking 
 along Chancery-lane, he noticed a bill posted on the 
 wall — "Wanted, a few smart lads for the 15th 
 Elliott's Light Dragoons." He paused a moment, 
 and said to himself, " Well, I have had all my life 
 a violent antipathy to soldiers and horses, the 
 sooner I cure myself of these absurd prejudices 
 the better ; and so I will enlist in this regiment." 
 He went immediately to the place of enlistment, 
 met there a kind-hearted old sergeant, who tried 
 to dissuade him from this new project; but Coler- 
 idsre did not waver in his resolution to become a 
 
SAMUEL TAYLOK COLERIDGE. 169 
 
 soldier, and accordingly was marched with his new 
 comrades to Reading. He withheld his true name, 
 and gave that of Silas Tomken Comberbacke. The 
 general of the district, when inspecting the recruits, 
 demanded of Coleridge what he came there for. 
 " Sir," answered Coleridge, " for what most other 
 persons come — to be made a soldier." " Do you 
 think," said the general, " you can run a French- 
 man through the body?" "I don't know," re- 
 plied Coleridge, " as I never tried, but I'll let a 
 Frenchman run me through before I'll run away." 
 "That will do," said the general, and Coleridge 
 was turned into the ranks. 
 
 His amiable and benevolent conduct soon gained 
 him kind friends among his comrades, who would 
 often assist him in many of the laborious duties 
 devolving upon him, while he, in return, wrote 
 all their letters for them to their sweethearts 
 and wives. 
 
 Coleridge, or Comberbacke, amused his com- 
 panions and excited their wonder by his enter- 
 taining stories and recital of facts. On one occa- 
 sion, while telling them of Alexander the Great, 
 one of his listeners said, " I never heard of him." 
 " I tliink I have," said another, ashamed of being 
 thought ignorant — " Silas, wasn't he a Cornish- 
 man? I knew one of the Alexanders at Truro." 
 Coleridge now went on describing to them, in 
 glowing colors, the valor, the wars, and the con- 
 quests of this famous general. "Ah," said one 
 man, whose open mouth had complimented the 
 
170 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 speaker for the preceding half hour, " Silas, this 
 Alexander must have been as great a man as our 
 colonel !" Coleridge now told them of the " Re- 
 treat of the Ten Thousand." "I don't hke to 
 hear of retreat," said one ; " Nor I," said a second 
 — " I'm for marching on." At another time 
 Coleridge told them of the invasion of Xerxes, 
 and his crossing the wide Hellespont, to which a 
 young recruit, thinking himself well acquainted 
 with geography, and wishing to show off a little 
 before his comrades, said, " Silas, I know where 
 that Hellespont is. I think it must be the mouth 
 of the Thames, for "^tis very wide." Coleridge 
 also told them of the heroes of Thermopylae ; 
 when the geographer interrupted him by saying — 
 " Silas, I know, too, where that there ' Moppily' is 
 — it's somewhere up in the Noth." "You are 
 quite right, Jack," said Coleridge ; " it is to the 
 north of the Hne." 
 
 Coleridge had been in the army about six 
 months, when his friends discovered his where- 
 abouts, and induced him to return to Cambridge. 
 Comberbacke was no more ! but his memory was 
 long and affectionately preserved amongst his 
 companions, one of whom he had volunteered to 
 attend during a most malignant attack of small- 
 pox, when all others deserted him ; and had waited 
 on him, and watched by him for six weeks. To 
 prevent contagion, the patient and his noble- 
 hearted nurse were put into an out-house, where 
 Coleridge continued all that time, night and day, 
 
SAMUEL TAYLOE COLERIDGE. 171 
 
 administering medicine, guarding him from in- 
 juring himself during violent delirium, and when 
 again capable of listening, sitting by his bed, and 
 reading to him. In the annals of humanity, that 
 act must stand as one of the truest heroism. 
 
 Coleridge did not remain long in Cambridge, 
 but soon went to visit his friend Southey, at Ox- 
 ford, where they and two other friends hit upon 
 the Pantisocracy scheme, an offshoot of Rousseau's 
 views of primitive life. They were to embark for 
 America, where, on the banks of the Susquehanna, 
 they designed to found their colony of peace and 
 perfection, to follow their own ploughs, harvest 
 their own corn, and show forth to the world the 
 union of a patriarchal life of labor, with the highest 
 exercise of intellect and virtue. Both these young 
 poets, with their minds now fermenting with new 
 schemes, commenced at Bristol as lecturers and 
 authors. The profits of the lectures were to pay 
 for the voyage to America ; they did not even pay 
 the rent. Coleridge lectured on the English Re- 
 bellion and Charles I., the French Revolution, and 
 on Religion and Philosophy ; Southey, on General 
 History — both displaying their peculiar talents and 
 characters, Coleridge all imagination, absence of 
 mind, and impracticability; Southey, with less 
 genius, but more ardor, prudence, and worldly 
 tact. The circumstances which had brought Col- 
 eridge to Bristol, though they did not end in 
 pantisocracy, ended in marriage, which for some 
 years fixed him in that part of the country. Cottle, 
 
172 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 a bookseller and publisher, offered Coleridge thirty 
 guineas for a volume of poems, the cash to be ad- 
 vanced when he pleased from time to time. On 
 this slender foundation, Coleridge began the world. 
 He took a cottage at Clevedon, some miles from 
 Bristol, and thither he took his bride. It appears 
 truly to have been the poetic idea — ^love in a 
 cottage, for there was love and little more. Cottle 
 says it had walls, and doors, and windows, but as 
 for furniture, only such as became a philosopher. 
 This was not enough even for poetic lovers. Two 
 days after the wedding, the poet wrote to Cottle 
 to send him the following unpoetical but very es- 
 sential ai-ticles : — " A riddle-slice ; a candle-box ; 
 two ventilators; two glasses for the wash-hand 
 stand ; one tin dust-pan ; one small tin tea-kettle ; 
 one pair of candlesticks ; one carpet brush ; one 
 flour-dredge ; three tin extinguishers ; two mats ; 
 a pair of slippers ; a cheese-toaster ; two large tin 
 spoons ; a bible ; a keg of porter ; coffee, raisins, 
 currants, catsup, nutmegs, allspice, rice, ginger, 
 and mace." The cottage was pleasantly situated 
 in the extremity of the village. It had the benefit 
 of being but one story high ; and as the rent was 
 only five pounds per annum, and the taxes nought, 
 Mr. Coleridge had the satisfaction of knowing 
 that, by fairly mounting his Pegasus, he could 
 make as many verses in a week as would pay his 
 rent for a year. 
 
 " The manhood of Coleridge's true poetical life," 
 has been observed by a contemporaiy, " was in 
 
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 173 
 
 the year 1797." He was yet only twenty-five years 
 of age ; but his poetical faculty had now acquired 
 a wide grasp and a deep power. At this period 
 he wrote his tragedy of Kemorse, Cristabelle, 
 the Dark Ladie, the Rime of the Ancient Mari- 
 ner ; and at once stepped into the front rank of 
 British poets. He was sought out by the first 
 intellect of the country, and his extraordinary 
 talents became acknowledged every where. His 
 long eventful literary cai-eer it is not within our 
 plan to follow. His character presents many ad- 
 mirable points ; his simplicity, gentleness and truth 
 excite our admiration, while his trusting, dreamy 
 nature, which m another man would be a weak- 
 ness, in him became a charm. His acquirements 
 were remarkable, and he became the centre of a 
 literary circle, who flocked to listen to his conver- 
 sation, to which he is as much indebted for his 
 celebrity as to any of his published works. He 
 was the greatest talker of his age, and those who 
 heard him have declared that no adequate idea 
 of the intellect of the man could be formed with- 
 out attending his extraordinary conversations. 
 Yet, by some strange neglect, or some wish of his 
 own, these remarkable harangues were never taken 
 down; which, if they merited the praises con- 
 ferred upon them, is a loss to the world, as well as 
 to his full fame. 
 
KOBEET FULTOK 
 
 Robert Fulton, whose name is immortally as- 
 sociated with steam-boat navigation, was born in 
 the town of Little Brittain, Pennsylvania, in 1765. 
 At a very early age he lost his father, and this 
 rendered his primary education very limited. 
 But his genius was conspicuous even in his child- 
 hood. Before he was twelve years of age, his 
 inventive talents were known to the entire neigh- 
 borhood, and he also discovered remarkable talents 
 for painting. Even when a boy, he gained his 
 living by his pencil in painting landscapes and 
 portraits. He even saved before he was twenty- 
 one sufficient above his expenses to purchase a 
 small farm, at the same time supporting a widowed 
 mother. Franklin became acquainted with him, 
 saw his talents, and incited him to their further 
 development. He was encouraged to go to 
 England, and put himself under the care of his 
 countryman, Benjamin West, who at that time was 
 the ruling spirit of the art-world. This he did, 
 and was received by that great and good painter 
 with every friendship and warmth ; he was invited 
 to become an inmate of his house, and from that 
 
KOBEKT FULTON. 175 
 
 hour Fulton was not only the guest but the pupil 
 of the great master. 
 
 For several years Fulton pursued his studies 
 with devotion and success ; but his inventive 
 genius was predominant, and his head was already 
 teeming with plans for the improvement of inland 
 navigation and other matters of utility. He drew 
 around him the sympathies of a large number of 
 distinguished associates, among whom may be 
 named the Duke of Bridgewater and the Earl of 
 Stanhope. We shortly after find Fulton residing 
 at Birmingham, having abandoned the profession 
 of painter for that of civil engineer — engaged in 
 conjunction with the Duke of Bridgewater in con- 
 structing those canals which gave so much im- 
 portance to that town. Fulton threw himself into 
 the subject of canal navigation with great zeal, 
 and wrote a book concerning it. He also invented 
 a formidable torpedo, which he asserted would 
 destroy the navy of an enemy with the greatest 
 ease and expedition. He went to France, and 
 offered his invention to the government, who were 
 indisposed to purchase it. At Paris he met his 
 countryman, the celebrated Joel Barlow, in whose 
 family he became an inmate. Fulton resided seven 
 years in Paris, during which time he assiduously 
 pursued the study of the natural sciences and of 
 modern languages. Having heard of Fitch's ex- 
 periments in the application of steam to the pro- 
 pulsion of boats, a new and glorious vision filled 
 his mind with its splendors. Becoming acquainted 
 
176 FA^IOUS BOYS. 
 
 with the distinguished Robert R. Livingstone, that 
 gentleman iired the zeal of Fulton by represent- 
 ing the immense advantages to be derived from 
 the use of steam in navigating the inland waters 
 of the United States. " Wealth, talent and genius 
 joined hands, and Fulton and Livingstone navi- 
 gated the Seine by a steamboat in 1803. Arrange- 
 ments were immediately entered into for the 
 prosecution of the scheme in America. They came 
 to America, and, in 1807, the Clermont^ Fulton's 
 experiment boat, was completed, and a trial trip 
 was immediately announced. The leading scien- 
 tific, literary, and political men of the city were 
 invited to witness it. A large assemblage was 
 gathered, disposed to be critical, and to ridicule the 
 whole afiair as an absurdity. Almost all agreed 
 that the project was a wild one, and only entitled 
 to contempt. But when they saw the mastless 
 vessel move from her dock on the Jersey shore, 
 and cleave her course through the water swiftly, 
 steadily, majestically, there was a sudden revolu- 
 tion of feeling — acclamations burst from either 
 shore, and the first steam-ship in the world — the 
 *'Clermont' — moved like a mighty conqueror, amid 
 shouts of wonder and admiration." 
 
 In a few days the " Clermont" started on her 
 first long trip, of which Mr. Fulton writes as 
 follows : — " My steam-boat voyage to Albany and 
 back has turned out rather more favorable than I 
 had calculated. The distance from New York to 
 Albany is one hundred and fifty miles ; I ran it 
 
EOBEKT FLLTON. , 177 
 
 up in thirty-two hours, and down in thirty. I had 
 a light breeze against me the whole way, both 
 going and coming, and the voyage has been per- 
 formed wholly by the power of the steam-engine. 
 I overtook many sloops and schooners beating to 
 windward, and parted with them as if they had 
 been at anchor. The power of propelling boats by 
 steam is now fully proved. The morning I left 
 New York there were not, perhaps, thirty persons 
 in the city who believed that the boat would ever 
 move one mile an hour, or be of the least utility; 
 and while we were putting off from the wharf, 
 which was crowded with spectators, I heard a 
 number of sarcastic remarks. This is the way in 
 which ignorant men compliment what they call 
 philosophers and projectors. Having employed 
 much time, money, and zeal in accomplishing this 
 work, it gives me, as it will you, great pleasure 
 to see it fully answer my expectations. It will 
 give a cheap and quick conveyance to the merchan- 
 dise on the Mississippi, Missouri, and other great 
 rivers, which are now laying open their treasures 
 to the enterprise of our countrymen ; and although 
 the prospect of personal emolument has been some 
 inducement to me, yet I feel infinitely more pleas- 
 ure in reflecting on the immense advantage that 
 my country will derive from the invention." 
 
 Fulton received his first patent in 1 809, and for 
 
 several years he was engaged in the perfection of 
 
 steamboat machinery. He was also successful in 
 
 the Gcostruction of submarine batteries; and in 
 
 12 
 
ITS FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 1814 he was delighted by the appropriation of 
 Congress of three hundred and twenty thousand 
 dollars for the construction of a steam ship of w^ar 
 under his direction. This frigate was not in readi- 
 ness for use until after the close of the war in 
 which she was to be engaged for sea-coast de- 
 fence. But before she was completed, Fulton 
 had paid the debt of nature. He died February 
 24th, 1815, aged fifty years; an early death for 
 one w^ho had done so much for his country, and 
 who was early advancing to still greater honor 
 and renown than he had hitherto won. He had 
 already contemplated crossing the ocean by steam, 
 and had he lived would no doubt have accom- 
 plished it. 
 
JOHN KITTO. 
 
 In the social scale we cannot get very much 
 lower than the workhouse. When any body gets 
 there, it is usually supposed that every resource 
 has failed, and that he is very near " the last scene 
 of all." And yet, even from that comfortless and 
 almost hopeless place, we are about to accompany 
 one of its younger inhabitimts upon a journey of 
 usefulness and honor, which might well be envied 
 by some of the greatest and most respected of 
 men. 
 
 Our hero, for he was a hero in the true sense, 
 was born at Plymouth in the December of 1804. 
 He had a rough life before hun — difficulties of a 
 gigantic character to overcome ; it would have 
 been a mercy if he had had a good strong healthy 
 constitution. This was not to be. When born, 
 he was so puny and sickly that he was not ex- 
 pected to live many hours ; and although great 
 care was taken of him, it was long before he was 
 able to walk. This constitutional weakness pre- 
 vented him, as he grew up, taking part in the 
 sports and pastimes of other boys. Indisposition 
 to take exercise grew upon him, and was no doubt 
 
180 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the source of mucli after misery. But that which 
 appeaj-ed to be so great an evil was providentially 
 turned to a blessing. When other boys were em- 
 ployed in their games, he w^as to be seen poring 
 over a book behind a hedge or on a sunny bank. 
 Not that any facilities were afforded him to read, 
 by his parents ; he was not even sent to school 
 until he was eight years of age; his books were 
 borrowed or begged with great difficulty ; his 
 home was by no means a home of comfort, but 
 rather a scene of misery and wretchedness ; and 
 by the time he had attained his twelfth year, 
 through much sickness and sorrow, he was placed 
 with his father, a stone mason, to act as his lar 
 borer. 
 
 But this poor boy had to bear other miseries be- 
 side his own. His father, soon after his marriage, 
 became a confirmed sot ; he was so lost to his po- 
 sition as to regard neither character nor reputation. 
 From being a master waited on by others, he be- 
 came a servant ; worse even than this ; to gratify 
 the appetite which consumed him, he frequently 
 violated the laws, and found himself in " durance 
 vile" — at one time so seriously, that Kitto wrote : 
 " What will they now say of the felon's son ?" 
 
 His grandmother, to take him out of this wretch- 
 edness, transferred him to her own garret. She, 
 poor Avoman, had also suffered from the curse of 
 drink. Her second husband, after spending the 
 evening with a friend, was drowned in a pond as 
 he was returning home, helplessly intoxicated. 
 
JOHN KITTO. 181 
 
 The removal of John to his grandmother's must 
 have been a comfort to his own mother, who 
 was so miserably circumstanced as frequently 
 to work from five in the morning until ten in the 
 evening — " that she might have something to put 
 in the mouth of her babes." 
 
 Kitto was with his grandmother from his fourth 
 to his eighth year, who " pinched herself to sup- 
 port" him. Her extreme poverty no doubt pre- 
 vented her from sending him to school. She took 
 kindly to the poor lad, and for his amusement 
 made many strolls in the neighborhood. They 
 gathered flowers together, and in the season went 
 nutting ; the branches w^hich were out of John's 
 reach she hooked down with her staff. At other 
 times they made excursions to the sea-beach, 
 when his aged relative would be sure to have for 
 him a little reserve of ginger-bread, plums, apples, 
 or sugar-stick. 
 
 When he had arrived at his eighth year, a little 
 arrangement was made for his attending school. 
 His attendance, however, was very irregular. The 
 poor old grandmother was too poor to pay the 
 school charges, and his father would not spare a 
 few pence for the purpose. When he did save a 
 little from the ale-house, John went to school; 
 when the money was spent in drink he remained 
 away. It was a great pity some charity school 
 was not found for him ; but the father's drinking 
 absorbed all his spare time, and his mother, to find 
 food for her little ones, had to go out early to 
 
182 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 " char." The schooling that John did get, enabled 
 him to understand a little of "reading, writing, 
 and the imperfect use of figures. His grand- 
 mother boasted that he was the best scholar in 
 Plymouth. John knew better, adding, when he 
 heard the remark, " she did it ignorantly, but af- 
 fectionately." 
 
 But if the dear old grandmother could not pay 
 for his schooling, she could teach him at home. 
 She taught him to be so proficient in seicing^ that 
 he boasted of having done the best part of a " gay 
 patchwork" for her bed, besides having made 
 "quilts and kettle-holders enough for two gene- 
 rations." The old lady had also a store of stories 
 about ghosts, hobgoblins, fairies, and witches; 
 and a shoemaker of the name of Roberts poured 
 into his eager ear, as he sat usmg his awl, the 
 tales of Bluebeard, Cinderella, Jack the Giant- 
 killer, and Beauty and the Beast. Kitto wrote, 
 in 1832: "Assuredly, never have I since felt so 
 much respect and admiration of any man's talents 
 and extent of information as those of poor Rob- 
 erts." He soon made the discovery that Roberts 
 was not the only repository for such wonders, but 
 that for a copper he could purchase similar as- 
 tounding marvels at the shop of Mrs. Barnicle. 
 This, of course, was an irresistible temptation. 
 Every spare penny now went to the Barnicle vor- 
 tex. Plums or ginger-bread presented no attrac- 
 tion like the witchery of a picture-book or a nursery 
 rhyme. Walks and out-door rambles gave place 
 
JOHN KITTO. 183 
 
 to close reading at home. After the toy-books, 
 John sought amusement in his grandmother's 
 family Bible, which was fortunately profusely il- 
 lustrated ; in her Prayer Book, Pilgrim's Progress, 
 and Gulliver's Travels. "The two last I soon 
 devoured," says he ; " and so much did I admire 
 them, that, to increase their attractions, I deco- 
 rated all the engravings with the indigo that my 
 grandmother used in washing, using a feather for 
 a brush. Some one at last gave me a fourpenny 
 box of colors, and between that and my books I 
 was so much interested at home, that I retained 
 little inclination for play; and when my grand- 
 mother observed this, she did all in her power to 
 encourage those studious habits, by borrowing for 
 me books of her neighbors." He had soon made 
 the acquaintance of every book in the street. He 
 lived upon books — they were more to him than 
 his food. It was to gratify this love of reading 
 that he made his first literary effort. He thus 
 amusingly narrated the circumstance: 
 
 " My cousin came one day with a penny in his 
 hand, declaring his intention to buy a book with it. 
 I was just then sadly in want of a penny to make 
 up fourpence, with which to purchase the * History 
 of King Pippin' (not Pepin), so I inquired whether 
 he bought a book for the pictures or the story ? 
 ' The story, to be sure.' I then said, that, in that 
 case, I would, for his penny, write him both a 
 larger and a better story than he could get in print 
 for the same sum; and that he might be still fur- 
 
184 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ther a gainer, I would paint him a picture at the 
 beginning, and he knew there were no painted 
 pictures in penny books. He expressed the satis- 
 faction he should feel in my doing so, and sat 
 down quietly on the stool to note my operations. 
 When I had done I certainly thought my cousin's 
 penny pretty well earned ; and as, at reading the 
 paper and viewing the picture, he was of the same 
 opinion, no one else had any right to complain of 
 the bargam. I believe this was the first penny I 
 ever earned. I happened to recollect this circum- 
 stance when last at Plymouth, and felt a wish to 
 peruse this paper, if still in existence; but my poor 
 cousin, though he remembered the circumstance, 
 had quite forgotten both the paper and its con- 
 tents, unless that it was * something about what 
 was done in England at the time when the wild 
 men lived in it :' — even this was further than my 
 own recollection extended." 
 
 His next literary effort was a drama performed 
 by children. The terms of admission were, "ladies 
 eight pins, and gentlemen ten." It is plain from 
 these first efforts, that Kitto thus early had con- 
 tracted a love for literature which would never be 
 subdued. 
 
 These imaginative episodes, however, gave place 
 to more substantial ones. The old grandmother, 
 in 1814, attacked by paralysis, went lower down 
 into the depths of poverty; so that, instead of 
 being able to maintain Kitto, she herself had to go 
 and reside with her daughter. Kitto found his 
 
JOHN KiTfo. 185 
 
 f ither's house any thing but a home for him. In 
 Older that he might do something for a living, he 
 was sent as an apprentice to a barber, whom Kitto 
 describes as having a face " so ' sour,' that it sick- 
 ened one to look at it; and which was, beside, 
 all over red by drinking spirituous liquors." This 
 engagement soon came to an end. Kitto was 
 simple enough to leave a woman in charge of his 
 master's razors, that he carried home every night, 
 under the pretext that she wanted the barber ; of 
 course, when Kitto returned neither woman or 
 razors w^ere to be seen. His master not only dis- 
 charged him, but was mean enough to accuse him 
 of complicity with the thief. 
 
 There was nothing for it now but going with 
 his father to render him any assistance in his 
 power ; this enabled him to be a sad witness of 
 the profligate acts of his parent. On the 13th of 
 February, 1817, his father was repairing the roof 
 of a house in Plymouth. John was carrying a 
 load of slates to him ; but just as he was stepping 
 from the ladder to the roof he lost his footing, and 
 fell a distance of thirty-five feet into the court be- 
 low. He remained insensible for more than a 
 week, and did not leave his bed for four months. 
 Afterward he partially recovered his strength ; 
 but the accident deprived him of all sense of hear- 
 ing. He became as deaf as though he had never 
 had the sense. He subsequently submitted to 
 many surgical operations ; but all was in vain — 
 the precious sense was extinguished ! Kitto feel- 
 
186 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 ingly relates how he learned that he was deaf. 
 He had been in a trance for nearly a fortnight ; 
 every sound was hushed; profound silence reigned 
 over all. 
 
 " I was very slow in learning," he writes, " that 
 my hearing was entirely gone. The unusual still- 
 ness of all things was grateful to me in my utter 
 exhaustion ; and if, in this half-awakened state, a 
 thought of the matter entered my mind, I ascribed 
 it to the unusual care and success of my friends in 
 preserving silence around me. I saw them talk- 
 ing, indeed, to one another, and thought that, out 
 of regard to my feeble condition, they spoke in 
 whispers, because I heard them not. The truth 
 was revealed to me in consequence of my solici- 
 tude about the book which had so much interested 
 me on the day of my fall. It had, it seems, been 
 reclaimed by the good old man who had lent it to 
 me, and who, doubtless, concluded that I should 
 have no more need of books in this life. He was 
 wrong, for there has been nothing in this life 
 which I have needed more. I asked for this book 
 with much earnestness, and was answered by 
 signs, which I could not comprehend. ' Why do 
 you not speak?' I cried; 'pray let me have the 
 book.' This seemed to create some confusion; 
 and at length some one, more clever than the rest, 
 hit upon the happy expedient of writing upon a 
 slate that the book had been reclaimed by the 
 owner, and that I could not, in my weak state, be 
 allowed to read. ' But,' I said, in great astonish- 
 
JOHN KITTO. 18 T 
 
 ment, why do you write to me ? why not speak ? 
 Speak ! speak !' Those who stood around the bed 
 exchanged significant looks of concern, and the 
 writer soon displayed upon his slate the awful 
 words, "You are deaf!" 
 
 Fearful were now the circumstances of this poor 
 boy. When he left his bed he was useless to his 
 father; his grandmother was too poor to render 
 him any assistance, and he had not a farthing to 
 spend upon a book, which had now become, 
 through his infirmity, a prime necessity of his 
 being. His resort, in this dilemma, was to what 
 he calls " a poor student's ways and means." lie 
 went to the shore, where the coasters and fishing- 
 boats discharged their cargoes, wading with other 
 boys for pieces of rope, iron, or any other refuse. 
 Some of them made threepence a day, but Kitto 
 never succeeded better than to make fourpence in 
 one week. This source of profit, poor as it was, 
 soon was closed. One day he gave himself a se- 
 vere wound by treading on a broken bottle, and 
 there was an end to his gatherings from that 
 quarter. 
 
 His next effort to obtain the " ways and means" 
 was in quite a different direction. He laid out his 
 remaining twopence on paper, and set about paint- 
 ing heads, houses, flowers, birds, and trees. These 
 he exhibited in his mother's window for sale ; they 
 sold, rude as they were, to the extent of about 
 twopence halfpenny weekly. This not satisfying 
 his ambition he determined to have a stall at the 
 
188 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Plymouth fair, from which the receipts were larger. 
 Then, casting about for other sources of profit, 
 he observed that the labels in the windows of the 
 houses in the outskirts were badly and inaccu- 
 rately written : " Logins for Singel Men," " Rooms 
 to leet, enquire within." He prepared a number 
 of neat substitutes, w^hich he was partially success- 
 ful in disposing of. Of course the money thus ob- 
 tained was spent on books. He used to visit 
 about once a fortnight a bookstall in the market. 
 The owner kindly allowed him to read the books 
 at the stall, and sold him others very cheaply, 
 when he spent the few coppers he had so hardly 
 scraped together. Kitto, in referring to this 
 period, wrote : 
 
 " For many years I had no views toward litera- 
 ture, beyond the instruction and solace of my own 
 mind ; and, under these views, and in the absence 
 of other mental stimulants, the pursuit of it eventu- 
 ally became a passion, which devoured all others. 
 I take no merit for the industry and application 
 with which I pursued this object, nor for the in- 
 genious contrivances by which I sought to shorten 
 the hours of needful rest, that I might have the 
 more time for making myself acquainted with the 
 minds of other men. The reward was great and 
 immediate, and I was only preferring the gratifica- 
 tion which seemed to me the highest. Nevertheless, 
 now that I am, in fact, another being, having but 
 slight connection, excepting in so far as ' the child 
 is father to the man,' with my former self; now 
 
JOHN KITTO. 189 
 
 that much has become a business which was then 
 simply a joy ; and now that I am gotten old in ex- 
 periences if not in years, it does somewhat move 
 me to look back upon that poor and deaf boy, in 
 his utter loneliness, devoting himself to objects in 
 which none around him could sympathise, and to 
 jjursuits which none could eveii understand. The 
 eagerness with Avhich he sought books, and the 
 devoted attention with which he read them, was 
 simply an unaccountable fancy in their view ; and 
 the hours which he strove to gain for writing 
 that which was destined for no other eyes than 
 his own, was no more than an innocent folly, good 
 for keeping him quiet, and out of harm's way, but 
 of no possible use on earth. This want of the en- 
 couragement which sympathy and appreciation 
 give, and which cultivated friends are so anxious 
 to bestow on the studious application of their 
 young people, I now count among the sorest trials 
 of that day, and it serves me now as a measure 
 for the intensity of my devotion to such objects, 
 that I felt so much encouragement within as not 
 to need or care much for the sympathies or en- 
 couragements which are, in ordinary circumstan- 
 ces, held of so much importance. I undervalue 
 them not ; on the contrary, an undefinable craving 
 was often felt for sympathy and appreciation in 
 pursuits so dear to me ; but to want this was one 
 of the disqualifications of my condition, quite as 
 much so as my deafness itself; and in the same 
 degree in which I submitted to my deafness as a 
 
190 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 dispensation from Providence toward me, did I 
 submit to this as its necessary consequence. It 
 was, however, one of the peculiarities of my con- 
 dition that I was then, as I ever have been, too 
 much shut up. With the same dispositions and 
 habits, without being deaf, it would have been 
 easy to have found companions who would have 
 understood me, and sympathised with my love for 
 books and study, my progress in which might also 
 have been much advanced by such intercommuni- 
 cation. As it was, the shyness and reserve which 
 the deaf usually exhibit, gave increased effect to 
 the physical disqualification, and precluded me 
 from seeking, and kept me from incidentally find- 
 ing, beyond the narrow sphere in which I moved, 
 the sympathies which were not found in it. As 
 time passed, my mind became filled with ideas 
 and sentiments, and with various knowledge of 
 things new and old, all of which were as the 
 things of another world to those among whom my 
 lot was cast. The conviction of this completed 
 my isolation ; and eventually all my human inter- 
 ests were concentrated in these points — to get 
 books, and, as they were mostly borrowed, to pre- 
 serve the most valuable points in their contents, 
 either by extracts or by a distinct intention to im- 
 press them on the memory. When I went forth I 
 counted the hours till I might return to the only 
 pursuits in which I could take interest, and when 
 free to return, how swiftly I fled to immure my- 
 self in that little sanctuary which I had been per- 
 
John Kitto making shoes in .he Plymouth Workhouse 
 
 Page 191. 
 
i 
 
 JOHN KITTO. 191 
 
 mitted to appropriate, in one of those rare nooks 
 only afforded by such old Elizabethian houses as 
 that in which my relatives then abode !" 
 
 But this comparative happiness was not long to 
 continue. The dear old .grandmother went to re- 
 side at Brixton — a severe loss to Kitto. He was 
 now entirely at the mercy of his drinking father, 
 who cared so little for him, that he was soon a 
 pitiable spectacle in the streets, pinched with 
 hunger, shivering in rags, and crawling about with 
 bleeding feet. To save him from this " cold and 
 hunger and nakedness," he was admitted mto the 
 Plymouth workhouse — a sad culmination to his 
 literary and artistic dreams ! 
 
 The governor of the workhouse treated him 
 kindly, permitting some indulgence. His first task 
 was to learn to make list-shoes : in no long time he 
 was a proficient in the business. "Within a twelve- 
 month of his entrance into the workhouse, he 
 commenced to keep a diary, which he " with re- 
 verence inscribed to the memory of Cecilia Picken, 
 my grandmother, and the dearest friend I ever 
 had." The diary enters into minute details of his 
 workhouse life. One entry runs thus : — 
 
 " I was to-day most wrongfully accused of cut- 
 ting off the top of a cat's tail. They did not know 
 me who thought me capable of such an act of wan- 
 ton cruelty. 
 
 " June 2. — I am making my own shoes. 
 
 "June 9. — I have finished my shoes; they are 
 tolerably strong and neat. 
 
192 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 *' August 14. — I was set to close bits of leather. 
 
 "August 15. — Said bits of leather that I had 
 closed were approved of, and I was sent to close 
 a pair of women's shoes, which were also ap- 
 proved of. 
 
 " November 14. — On Monday had been a twelve- 
 month in the workhouse, during which time I have 
 made seventy-eight pairs of list shoes, beside mend- 
 ing many others, and have received, as a premium, 
 one penny per week. 
 
 " November 20. — I burnt a tale, of whi(3h I had 
 written several sheets, which I called ' The Pro- 
 bationary Trial,' but which did not, as far as I 
 wrote, please me." 
 
 Many of the most touching entries in the jour- 
 nal relate to the dear old grandmother. Here is 
 one : — 
 
 " 1819. — Granny has been absent in Dock this 
 two days. Though but for so short a period, I 
 severely feel her absence. If I feel it so acutely 
 now, how shall I bear the final separation when 
 she shall be gone to that ' undiscovered country 
 from whose bourne no traveler returns ?' She 
 cannot be expected to live many years longer, for 
 now she is more than seventy years of age. O, 
 Almighty Power, spare yet a few years my granny, 
 the protector of my infancy, and the — I cannot ex- 
 press my gratitude. It is useless to attempt it." 
 
 On April 18th, he wrote: "She is dead." The 
 measure of his sorrow was complete. His best 
 friend was gone ! After this great loss, his father, 
 
JOHK KITTO. 193 
 
 for a time at least, seemed desirous to befriend 
 this poor boy, and promised him the twopence 
 that granny had used to give him weekly to get 
 his library books. John was sadly afraid that 
 when the sorrow was blunted by time, that the 
 twopence would be withheld, and then what should 
 he do? 
 
 Sometimes his thoughts would go out to the 
 future. His ambition was to have a stationer's 
 shop and a circulating library, with twelve or 
 fourteen shillings a week income. His anxious 
 question was : " When I am out, how shall I earn 
 a livelihood ?" He thought he might travel, and 
 that some kind gentleman might take him, even 
 though it were in the humble capacity of a servant, 
 " to tread classic Italy, fantastic Gaul, proud Spain, 
 and phlegmatic Batavia ;" nay, " to visit Asia, and 
 the ground consecrated by the steps of the 
 Saviour." 
 
 There was a ray of joy let into his heart one 
 day, by the master of the workhouse proposing to 
 him the pleasurable task of writing some lectures 
 to be read to the boys, upon their duties. Kitto 
 felt the restraint of the workhouse, and yet kind- 
 ness had partially reconciled him to it. He was, 
 nevertheless, most anxious to quit it. " Liberty," 
 he cried, " was my idol ; liberty, not idleness. 
 Methinks when I am out of the house, I breathe 
 almost another air. Like the wolf in the fable, I 
 would rather starve at liberty than grow fat under 
 restraint. There is no fear of my starving in the 
 13 
 
194: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 midst of plenty. I know how to prevent hunger. 
 The Hottentots subsist a long time on nothing but 
 a little gum ; they also, when hungry, tie a tight 
 ligature round them. Cannot I do so, too ? I will 
 sell my books and pawn my neckerchiefs, by 
 which I shall be able to raise about twelve shil- 
 lings, and with that I will make the tour of Eng- 
 land. The hedges furnish blackberries, nuts, sloes, 
 etc., and the fields turnips ; a hayrick or barn will 
 be an excellent bed. I will take pen, ink, and 
 paper with me, and note down my observations as 
 I go — a kind of sentimental tour, not so much a 
 description of places as of men and manners, ad- 
 ventures and feelings." 
 
 This tour was not made or experienced. On 
 the 8th of November, 1821, he was handed over 
 to a much more prosy condition — apprenticed to 
 John Bowden, shoemaker. He was to remain with 
 his new master until he was twenty-one, and he 
 was now seventeen. Kitto had a little reluctance 
 to quit the workhouse at first, and only consented 
 to do so when the advantages of the change were 
 presented to his mind. "The going home at night, 
 the possession of his evenings for himself, the 
 power of reading in his own garret, Avithout mol- 
 estation, the dropping of the poorhouse uniform, 
 food in plenty, and good clothes — these formed an 
 irresistible temptation." And then, when he was 
 fairly out of the workhouse, he gave expression to 
 his feelings : " I am no longer a workhouse boy — 
 I am an apprentice." 
 
JOHN KITTO. 195 
 
 The joy of John was soon changed. His master 
 was a mean-spirited tyrant, who had selected him 
 on account of his deafness — thinking that his in- 
 firmity would prevent him making any complaint. 
 John thus records his feelings after being two 
 months with his master : — 
 
 " January 19. — O misery, art thou to be my only 
 portion ! Father of heaven, forgive me if I wish 
 I had never been born. O that I were dead, if 
 death were an annihilation of being ; but as it is 
 not, teach me to endure life : enjoy it I never can. 
 In short, mine is a severe master, rather cruel !" 
 
 The journal contains many heart-rending pass- 
 ages of the master's heartless cruelty to the poor 
 deaf boy. He often forced him to work sixteen 
 and eighteen hours out of the twenty-four — strik- 
 ing and buffeting him without mercy. His con- 
 dition was so dreadful, that he twice seriously con- 
 templated suicide. Happily he had the power 
 of writing ; his case was heard before the magis- 
 trates, and his indentures canceled. When he 
 returned to his home — the workhouse — he began 
 to turn over in his mind the possibility of his 
 doing something besides making shoes. " What 
 might he not do ? Might he not write or com- 
 pose a work, be it poetry or prose ? — might it not 
 immortalise his name ? What should hinder the 
 achievement ? Might not every obstacle be sur- 
 mounted, and John Kitto become an author known 
 to fame ?" 
 
 He wrote, as the result of these thoughts : " I 
 
196 FA^rOUS BOYS. 
 
 had learned that knowledge is power ; and not 
 only was it power, hut safety. As nearly as the 
 matter can now he traced, the progress of my 
 ideas appears to have heen this — firstly, that I was 
 not altogether so helj^less as I had seemed ; sec- 
 ondly, that, notwithstanding my afflicted state, I 
 might realize much comfort in the condition of life 
 in which I had heen placed ; thirdly, that I might 
 even raise myself out of that condition, into one 
 of less privation ; fourthly, that it was not im- 
 jjossihle for me to place my own among honorahle 
 names, hy proving that no privation formed an 
 insuperahle bar to useful labor and self-advance- 
 ment. To do what no one under the same circum- 
 stances ever did, soon that ceased to be the limit 
 of my ambition !" 
 
 Fortunately, while he was in one of the Ply- 
 mouth book-shops, he had been noticed by the 
 famed mathematician, Mr. Harvey, who, after 
 learning his history, determined to interest others 
 in his behalf. A circular was drawn up, detailing 
 the incidents of Kitto's birth and life, and sug. 
 gesting that a small sum of money, raised by sub- 
 scription, should be appropriated to his use for 
 board and lodgings, until some permanent situation 
 could be procured for him. This appeal was suc- 
 cessful. The guardians subscribed five pounds 
 to the fund. In the meantime Kitto boarded with 
 Mr. Burnard, and had the privilege of using the 
 public library, and devoting all his hours to mental 
 improvement. Those hours he used industriously, 
 
JOHN KITTO. 197 
 
 although he was subject to frequent attacks of ill- 
 ness. It was suggested that he might become a 
 missionary ; a position to which he had never 
 hoped to attain in his most excited moments, but 
 when the prospect was opened up to him, it 
 thrilled him with delight, as it presented oppor- 
 tunities of usefulness ; and to be useful, he had 
 already learned, was the only way to secure happi- 
 ness. 
 
 About this time time Kitto was introduced to a 
 Mr. Groves, a dentist residing at Exeter, who of- 
 fered to instruct him in his profession, to board 
 him, and give him for his services, $75 for the 
 first year, and $100 for the second. Kitto happily 
 accepted the offer — and found in the character of 
 Mr. Groves the example of a true Christian, and a 
 valued friend. 
 
 In the spring of 1825, a volume of Kitto's let- 
 ters and essays was published, for which more 
 than four hundred subscribers were obtained. 
 The volume gave evidence of his close and multi- 
 farious reading. In it reference is made to Male- 
 branche, Hume, Reid, Stewart, Berkely, Des 
 Cartes, Locke and Stillingfleet, Lord Bacon, and 
 Madame de Stael. He descants upon the Tuscan, 
 Doric, and Gothic orders of architecture; criti- 
 cises the productions of Salvator Rosa, Gains- 
 borough, Titian, and Raphael ; and has some no- 
 ticeable remarks upon the sculpture of antiquity. 
 It was quite evident that Kitto remembered what 
 he had read. But he did not read for amusement 
 
198 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 merely — he read for the thoughts and facts which 
 the books contamed. One day he wrote : " With- 
 out books I should quickly become an ignorant 
 and senseless being, unloving and unloved, if I am 
 not so ah'eady. I apprehend that I have some- 
 times offended my acquaintance, by the importu- 
 nity with Avhich I haA^e solicited the loan of books. 
 But if I had a house full of books myself, and knew 
 any person to whom they would be so necessary 
 as to me, and who would make so good a use of 
 them as I do, I would not stay to be entreated, 
 nor scruple to lend any, or all of them, in succes- 
 sion, to such a person. What earthly pleasure can 
 equal that of reading a good book? O, dearest 
 tomes ! Princely and august folio ! Sublime 
 quarto ! Elegant octavo ! Charming duodecimo ! 
 Most ardently do I admire your beauties. To ob- 
 tain ye, and to call ye mine, I would work day 
 and night ; and to possess ye I would forbid my- 
 self all sensual joys!" 
 
 At this time, when Kitto was in his twentieth 
 year, Mr. Groves had been contemplating devoting 
 himself to the missionary work, and to this end 
 had been preparing in Trinity College, Dublin. It 
 . was proposed to Kitto that he should practise as a 
 dentist, either in Plymouth or in London ; but Mr. 
 Groves, learning that the printing-offices at several 
 of the missionary stations were in need of willing 
 workmen, and knowing Kitto's spirit and admira- 
 tion for missionary labor, proposed that he should 
 go out to one of the stations as a prmter. He ac- 
 
JOHN KITTO. 199 
 
 cepted the proposal at once, as the most congenial 
 and desirable work. He was accepted by the 
 London Board, Mr. Groves offering liberally to 
 pay toward his board $250 per annum, for two 
 years. In the July of 1825 he was consigned to 
 the care of Mr. Watts, at the Missionary College 
 at Islington, to learn the art of printing. When 
 in the office he soon learned to set the types of the 
 Greek Testament, and Persic, on Henry Martyn's 
 translation. One of the delights which he found 
 in London was an indulgence in his early propen- 
 sity of visiting and reading at the bookstalls. His 
 industry was not relaxed with his comparatively 
 easy circumstances. "I cannot," he wrote, "accuse 
 myself of having wasted or misemployed a mo- 
 ment of my time since I left the workhouse." He 
 was so methodical in the distribution of his time, 
 as carefully to apportion a task to every part of the 
 day, only allowing himself six hours for sleep; 
 and considered that rather more than he could af- 
 ford. After spending considerable time in prepa- 
 ration, he finally went out to Malta in 1827, to 
 enter upon the duties of the printing ofiice, which 
 was under the direction of Mr. Jowett and Mr. 
 Schliewz, and was employed in printing tracts in 
 Greek, Arabic, Maltese, and ItaUan. He entered 
 upon the work with ardor — devoting all his spare 
 time to the study of Asiatic characters. 
 
 After a period, owing to the disposition, " which 
 would not be controlled," to learn, the Missionary 
 Committee thought his studies interfered with the 
 
200 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 discharge of his duties in the printing-office ; this 
 occasioned a breach, which gradually widened 
 until he resolved to return to England. The Com- 
 mittee evidently did not understand, and certainly 
 did not sympathise with Kitto in his desires and 
 aspirations. They required a mere printer; Kitto 
 was more — he could originate thoughts worthy of 
 being printed. 
 
 On his return to London he resolved various 
 plans to enable him to gain a livelihood, one of 
 which was his original one : to open a stationer's 
 shop in the neighborhood of Plymouth. But this 
 project came to nothing. In the meantime his 
 funds were exhausted, and he was once more re- 
 duced to the dregs of poverty. Fortunately, at 
 this time a situation was offered him by a gentle- 
 man, John Synge, Esq., of Glanmoor Castle, 
 County Wicklow, who was printing, at his own 
 private press, " some little works in Hebrew and 
 Greek." He was to have entered upon the duties 
 of the printing-office on the 1st of June; but be- 
 fore that time his old friend Mr. Groves had made 
 him a second offer to accompany him to the East, 
 which he at once accepted. This was literally re- 
 alizing his early dream. He went out as the tutor 
 to the two little boys of Mr. Groves. His instruc- 
 tions to the children embraced Hebrew, scripture, 
 theology, history, geography, writing, arithmetic, 
 and English composition. 
 
 On the 12th of June, 1829, the party sailed for 
 St. Petersburg. During his stay in Russia, Kitto 
 
JOHN KIITO. 201 
 
 did not form a very high opinion of its inhabit- 
 ants. After staying at St. Petersburg, Mr. Groves 
 went to Moscow, which city much pleased Kitto. 
 The next place visited was Astrachan — distant 
 about a thousand miles. They then traversed the 
 entire country, meeting with many adventures on 
 the way, until they arrived at Araxes, the river 
 dividing Russia from Persia. On this journey 
 Kitto was thrown from his horse, but, having 
 adopted the turban the day previous, its thick 
 folds no doubt saved his life. The party entered 
 Bagdad on the 6th of December, 1829, six months 
 after -leaving Gravesend. While in Bagdad, the 
 plague entered the city. As many as one thousand 
 and fifteen hundred deaths occurred in one day. 
 In two months, fifty thousand were supposed to 
 have fallen victims to it. Mrs. Groves was seized 
 on the Vth of May, and died on the 14th, after a 
 week's suffering. Mr. Groves was also threatened, 
 but providentially escaped. This danger was not 
 over before they were exposed to another. On 
 the 27th of April, owing to the river overflowing 
 its banks, seven thousand houses were thrown 
 down, and fifteen thousand people lost their lives ! 
 The city seemed doomed. But this was not all. 
 The horrors of a siege followed the death-dealing 
 plague and flood. The Arab Pashas of Mosul and 
 Aleppo, so soon as the waters had subsided, ad- 
 vanced against the stricken city. The siege was 
 carried on for several months, during which time 
 the inhabitants were subjected to all the heart- 
 
202 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 rending scenes engendered by fiendish war — • 
 rapine and famine not being the least. Kitto was 
 confined in the house for five months, during the 
 horrors of death, sword, and pestilence. After 
 collecting all the information possible upon the 
 habits and customs of the East, to illustrate the 
 Bible narratives, he returned to England, in com- 
 pany with a Mr. Newman, in the September of 
 1832; they arrived at their destination in June, 
 1833 — Kitto having acquired considerable informa- 
 tion on the journey. 
 
 After settling down once more, Kitto was in- 
 troduced to Mr. Charles Knight, who employed 
 him as a regular contributor to the " Penny Maga- 
 zine" — one of the popular serials, read, it was sup- 
 posed, by more than a million of people, besides 
 being re-printed in America, and translated into 
 French, German, and Dutch. Mr. Knight also 
 employed Kitto to take charge of the "Penny 
 CycloptBdia." This necessitated his spending 
 seven hours daily in Ludgate street. Mr. Knight 
 also projected the " Pictorial Bible," being fully 
 assured that Kitto could supply the notes and il- 
 lustrative matter. This work was commenced in 
 1835, and completed in May, 1838. During its 
 progress, Kitto received $1200 a year, and an ad- 
 ditional sum at its completion. The next work 
 upon which he was employed was the " Pictorial 
 History of Palestine and the Holy Land, including 
 a complete History of the Jews." The next work 
 commenced was the " Christian Traveler," a peri- 
 
JOHK Kirro. 203 
 
 odical publication. Only three parts were publish- 
 ed, owing to Mr. Knight's business becoming 
 embarrassed. 
 
 Kitto was then engaged by the Messrs. Black, 
 of Edinburgh, to write a " History of Palestine, 
 from the Patriarchal Age to the Present Time ;" 
 and he also wrote "Thoughts among Flowers," 
 for the Religious Tract Society. Between 1841 
 and 1843, he prepared the letter-press of the 
 "Gallery of Scripture Engravings; and in 1845, 
 "The Pictorial Sunday Book," with 1300 engrav- 
 ings, and an appendix on the Geography of the 
 Holy Land I On the title-page of his next work 
 — "The Biblical Cyclopaedia" — Kitto's name ap- 
 pears as John Kitto, D. D., F. S. A. 
 
 The pauper surely never dreamed of such a 
 height ! He received the diploma of Doctor of 
 Divinity from the University of Giessen ; and in 
 1845, he became a Fellow of the Royal Society of 
 An.tiquaries. From this period his industry was 
 incessant — working almost constantly from four in 
 the morning until nine in the evening, producing 
 in succession a series of standard works which 
 Avill ever remain to attest his labor and research. 
 In the December of 1850, Lord John Russell wrote 
 him: "The Queen has directed that a grant of 
 £100 ($500) a year should be made to you from 
 her Majesty's Civil List, on account of your useful 
 and meritorious literary works." 
 
 This well-earned bounty he did not enjoy very 
 long, his intense exertion bringing on a serious 
 
204: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 illness, which, despite the best attention, remission 
 of his labors, and the pleasure of a journey into 
 Germany for the restoration of his health, ter- 
 minated in his death, in the November of 1854. 
 He was interred in the cemetery of Cannstatt, in 
 Germany, followed to his resting-place by a large 
 concourse of the residents. Thus terminates the 
 life of this pauper boy ! more glorious in the re- 
 sults of his life than if he had been born to the 
 heritage of a noble name and an ample estate. His 
 works would have done him infinite honor had he 
 had the advantages of the most liberal education, 
 the companionship and encouragement of the 
 learned ; but how much more do they redound to 
 his honor when his infirmity and all the disadvan- 
 tages of his early position are considered ! What 
 boy, or what man, reading the life and trials, and 
 ultimate triumphs of the workhouse boy, will not 
 be nerved with earnest resolve and fixed resolu- 
 tion to imitate him in his eagerness in the pursuit 
 of knowledge, and to leave the world somewhat 
 better for having lived in it. 
 
HUMPHREY DAVY. 
 
 It is delightful to see many reasons for believ- 
 ing that science, technically so called, is becoming 
 more and more interesting to the general public. 
 At one time, the genius for discovery was a peril- 
 ous gift; and those who possessed it were looked 
 upon with an evil eye, as persons in the service of 
 witchcraft and necromancy. A life passed in 
 gazing on the stars and among the mysteries of 
 numbers and diagrams, or one spent in the labora- 
 tory, was too removed from the ways of common 
 life to seem to have any lawful object in view, or 
 to possess adequate attractions for men, unless in 
 the awful compensations of communion with the 
 low^er world. Although the long period of con- 
 flict between the rights of mind, and the despotism 
 of superstition, ceased many centuries ago to be 
 universal, there still remained those hindrances to 
 a popular science, which arise out of the essential 
 nature of discovery in unfamiliar studies, except 
 when these are removed by the method of expo- 
 sition which was destined to be the birth of a later 
 epoch. A change, however, has taken place, and 
 the numerous lectures upon every valuable branch 
 of science, now being everywhere delivered to 
 
206 FAAIOUS BOYS. 
 
 crowded audiences, cannot fail to reverse tlie 
 past, and make the names of our scientific bene- 
 factors as much household words, as formerly they 
 were proscribed, or were heard only within the 
 cu'cle of professional life. 
 
 On many accounts Sir Humphrey Davy deserves 
 an afiectionate popularity. Beside the claims of 
 transcendent scientific genius, applied very labori- 
 ously, and even at the hazard of his life, to the 
 successful interpretation of nature, this eminent 
 chemist was among the first to throw the graces 
 of oratory over the details of science, and thereby 
 to accelerate the knowledge of it among multi- 
 tudes who might otherwise have turned away with 
 aversion from the subject. The influence of his 
 example upon subsequent expounders it is difficult 
 adequately to estimate. He himself gave vogue 
 to his favorite pursuits, and must have indirectly 
 disposed the general mind to desiderate acquaint- 
 ance with the results of inquiries in other depart- 
 ments of science. The famous safety-lamp, also, is 
 due to the benevolent interest which this remark- 
 able man took in the security and happiness of his 
 fellow-men ; and it is worthy of special notice that 
 he expressed more pleasure in having been the 
 means of providing this instrument of safety to 
 miners, passing so much of life in the bowels of 
 the earth, than in any other thing he ever did. A 
 keen controversy has arisen as to whether the 
 "Davy Lamp," or the " Geordy Safety Lamp," 
 invented by ]Vir. George Stephenson, were entitled 
 
HUMPHEEY DAVY. 20T 
 
 to priority. As in the case of many other great 
 inventions, it is not unlikely that, unknown to each 
 other, both were working out theii- ideas about 
 the same time. 
 
 Davy was born IVth December, 1778, at Pen- 
 zance, a small town in Cornwall, well known to 
 youthful fancies, through our story books, as the 
 region of giants. The circumstances of his parents 
 were, on the whole, as propitious as probably they 
 could have been for the development of a mind 
 Hke his. The elder Davy was a wood-carver by 
 profession ; but he appears to have had small oc- 
 casion to exercise his craft, as he did Uttle business 
 in Penzance, and farmed the copyhold of Varfell, 
 situated in the neighborhood of the town. The 
 mother of Humphrey would seem to have been a 
 woman of sweet and gentle dispositions, with a 
 turn for contemplative thought of more rare oc- 
 currence. The father died while young Davy was 
 only sixteen ; but the mother, left with a family 
 of five children, of whom our subject was the first- 
 born, survived to see her son crowned with the « 
 profusion of honors which his genius won during 
 the course of his splendid life of enterprise and 
 discovery. Happily the county in which Penzance 
 is placed is one of great beauty ; and the incipient 
 philosopher, teeming with thoughts of glory, found 
 in external nature, the elements of a fine sugges- 
 tion, and the nurse of high purposes destined to be 
 prosperously realised. Of a temperament far from 
 favorable to plodding, Humphrey passed his child- 
 
SOS FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 hood in the usual manner of boys — ^learning, in- 
 deed, his letters with quickness, but busying him- 
 self much more with history and books of travel 
 than with those tasks supposed to be more profit- 
 able, but found also more uncongenial to youth. 
 From his earliest life he displayed the ardor of his 
 character, being foremost in every exploit in which 
 skill and adventure had a place. It so happened, 
 that he lived more with one Tonkin, a surgeon- 
 apothecary of the district, and a fist friend of the 
 family, than he did with his parents ; the conse- 
 quence of which being that he was left very much 
 to follow the direction of his own tastes. To one 
 whose genius was so kindly and promising as 
 young Davy's, no harm could result from this span 
 of hberty. On the contrary, it is probable that a 
 forced education, while it would not have availed 
 to repress the strong tendencies of his mind toward 
 original discovery, might yet have restrained them 
 to his future and permanent detriment. At the 
 age of fourteen he was put to Cardew's school at 
 Truro, where he remained a year. Afterward, 
 till he was seventeen, he was suffered to go at 
 large, during which period of vacation he seems to 
 have been more disposed to out-door sports, such 
 as fowling and fishing, than to any exercise directly 
 related to his subsequent employments. At seven- 
 teen, however, he was apprenticed to a medical 
 practitioner of the name of Boolasse ; and with 
 this event commences the real interest of the 
 young chemist's life. 
 
nUMPIIEEY DAYY. 209 
 
 Of no circumscribed faculties, poorly pinned 
 down to one solitary kind of labor, Davy, at this 
 time, began to exhibit a certain universality of 
 power ; directing his attention to religion, meta- 
 physics, political science, climate, as well as to all 
 subjects of an emotional character. As the fruit 
 of this noble freedom, working through a genial 
 nature, the young philosopher now gave scope to 
 his buoyant spirit in written effusions on every 
 topic of general interest. Variously occupied as 
 he then was, and with his affections divided be- 
 tween the competing claims of manifold diverging 
 pursuits, Davy was receiving an ample culture of 
 his nature ; and by the generahty of his activity, 
 opening on the most different phases of life, he ac- 
 quired healthful conditions for the direction of 
 his energies to one absorbing object, so soon as 
 the course of his history evolved the passion which 
 should take the mastery of all the forces he hap- 
 pened to possess. But he seems to have been 
 conscious that little definite result could be ex- 
 pected from study spread over so wide a field, and 
 that his efforts up to that time, however valuable 
 as preliminary to something less desultory, would 
 need concentration, if those visions of fame which 
 hovered before his youthful mind were in any 
 likelihood to be realized. Before referring to the 
 next event of Davy's life in proof of this remark, 
 we copy a reflection of his own on the general 
 subject, which will not only confirm this impres- 
 sion, but may serve as a favorable specimen of 
 14 
 
210": FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the philosopher's thought and style. " In minds 
 of great power," Davy says, " there is usually a 
 disposition to variety of pursuits, and they often 
 attempt all branches of letters and science, and 
 even the imitative arts ; but if they become truly 
 eminent, it is by devotion to one object at a time, 
 or at most two objects. This sort of general 
 power is, like a profusion of blossoms on a fruit- 
 tree, a symptom of health and strength ; but if all 
 are suffered to become fruit, all are feeble and 
 bad ; if the greater portion is destroyed by acci- 
 dent or art, the remainder, being properly nour- 
 ished, become healthy, large, and good." No 
 doubt, we think, need exist respecting the general 
 truth here announced, or that it is expressed grace- 
 fully and beautifully. Devotion to one object, of 
 course, does not imply indifference to every other, 
 or even to any other, if it fell within the range of 
 a hberal accomplishment. The truth is, however, 
 that there are fewer who err on the side of too 
 great comprehensiveness of pursuit than of too con- 
 fined exertion. Most men are contented with 
 learning well one thing, and yield a mere neutral 
 acquiesence in the validity of occupations differing 
 from their own. Whensoever devotion to a pur- 
 suit leads a man to neglect any knowledge or 
 ability within the reach of his acquisition, the case 
 is one not of a wise concentration, but of a foolish 
 one-sidedness ; the individual lacks a generous 
 sympathy in all true and useful ways of life, and 
 defi'auds himself of a free and bountiful possession 
 
HUMPHREY DAVY. 211 
 
 even of what he professes to know most entirely. 
 It is the " penny wise and pound foolish" maxim, 
 illustrated not in a particular act of false economy, 
 but in a whole life of mistake. Still it is worthy 
 of observation, that a man cannot safely dispense 
 with an aim which may give unity to his efforts; 
 and to this sound rule of conduct Davy obviously 
 alludes in the passage above quoted. 
 
 It is easy to perceive that, under a general re- 
 mark which is universally applicable, the chemist 
 is describing his own condition at this period of 
 life. Blossoming in every faculty of his variously 
 gifted nature, he seems to have felt that no great 
 achievement could be performed unless he with- 
 drew force expended in many directions hitherto, 
 and thenceforward employed it in the develop- 
 ment of one grand form of inventive thought. 
 Wise was his feeling ; and a resolution, probably the 
 effect of instinct, to study chemistry, led the way to 
 those discoveries which afterward gave him a world- 
 wide reputation. Having obtained some acquaint- 
 ance with geometry and other branches of mathe- 
 matics, he began, about the age of nineteen, the 
 study of his life, chemistry. Acquiring in a trice 
 the few facts then known on the subject, and 
 chiefly the elements of Lavoisier, he experimented 
 with such rude means as he had within his reach, 
 and speculated on the nature of light and heat, 
 till, rejecting the French theory, he threw out a 
 hypothesis of his own, attempting to certify it by 
 what ways he could. 
 
212 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 At this time, fortunately for Davy, the Pneu- 
 matic Institution of Bristol, by the efforts of Dr. 
 Beddoes, once an Oxford professor of chemistry, 
 was established. Its benevolent object was the 
 investigation of the properties of the atmospheric 
 airs, then recently discovered, in their relation to 
 animal life, and the application of the results to the 
 promotion of health. Davy was known to Beddoes 
 by correspondence, and was offered the situation 
 of directory of the laboratory. A situation in 
 every way so tempting was not to be refused. 
 Accordingly the young chemist soon transferred 
 himself from his native solitudes to the town of 
 Bristol, where he was destined to meet with every 
 kindness, and to enjoy the society of Southey, 
 Coleridge, and Gregory Watt, as well as many 
 others, who received him at once on terms of 
 equality. Here, for two years, he prosecuted his 
 researches with the greatest ardor. Some of his 
 opinions on heat and light, although propounded 
 with warmth of conviction, he afterward retracted, 
 exhibiting in all he did the noble qualities of a 
 genuine disciple of truth. His attempts, how- 
 ever, while resident in Bristol, were not all equally 
 unproductive. In the summer of 1800 the results 
 of these were published in his first important work, 
 entitled " Researches, Chemical and Philosophical, 
 chiefly concerning Nitrous Oxide and its Respira- 
 tion." The subject, we may say, of these inquiries, 
 when translated into popular language, is the fi- 
 mous laughing-gas. It may not be uninteresting 
 
IIUMPimEY DAVY. 213 
 
 to our readers to know, that among the first of 
 those who submitted themselves to the influence 
 of this singuhxr gas, as verified and prepared by 
 Davy, were Southey and Coleridge. 
 
 But his labors and residence in Bristol were only 
 his first step in the ladder of ascent. Every thing 
 hitherto had concurred to prosper his efforts ; and 
 the wide range of these was now about to become 
 conspicuously helpful toward the fulfillment of his 
 life. The hour was arrived when Davy was to fill 
 the eye of the London aristocracy, not by meretri- 
 cious arts, but by the union of brilliant scientific 
 discovery, and a method of exposition then unri- 
 valed in the history of chemistry. At the recom- 
 mendation of the late Professor Hope, of Edin- 
 burgh, he was invited by Count Rumford to occu- 
 py the place of assistant lecturer on chemistry, 
 and director of the laboratory in connection with 
 the Royal Institution of Great Britain. No man 
 was better fitted for the oflice than Humphrey 
 Davy. Daring in his investigations, and at this 
 time on the eve of signalising himself as the great- 
 est living chemist, he brought unbounded enthu- 
 siasm to his duties, and a thirst for fame, which 
 was excusable in its degree, only because it arose 
 spontaneously in a nature confident in its resources, 
 and announcing beforehand in its aspirations what 
 it should yet succeed in accomplishing. A gay 
 and fair audience was ready to welcome his expo- 
 sitions. On such a spirit as Davy's, these circum- 
 stances, however intrinsically they may be esti- 
 
214 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 mated, had a great effect ; they were, indeed, the 
 necessary conditions for his prosperous advance- 
 ment. The event justified the preparation. The 
 fashion of the metropolis poured into his lecture- 
 room ; and so did Cavendish and Banks, Coleridge, 
 and Southey. Invitations accompanied the com- 
 pliments which were showered on him. Davy 
 now found himself in a world of discovery, where 
 caution rather than courage was necessary, where 
 success was dangerous — and a timely retreat from 
 its fascinations the only method of coming off with 
 g-ory. 
 
 The present is a good opportunity for remarking 
 how impolitic is that species of education which is 
 directed in preparation only for the strict and di- 
 rect duties of a profession, instead of looking gen- 
 erously on all sciences and employments, and 
 gathering elements of strength and general culture 
 from every source which lies within the reach of 
 human industry to avail itself of. The truth is, 
 that no man is adequately educated who can not 
 translate the results of his knowledge into the lan- 
 guage of the community, or who is so exclusively 
 informed in the matters of his own special depart- 
 ment as to feel little interest in common affairs, 
 and no desire to mix the facts of his science with 
 the great stock that is the property of all. A man 
 should do one thing well, and every thing in its 
 proportion. Davy, on this occasion, called into 
 exercise the multifarious knowledge which he had 
 been accumulating ; he was not a chemist merely, 
 
HUMPUllEY DAVY. 215 
 
 but a man presenting the rich and splendid fruits 
 of his professional labor, in a form which could 
 fill the hearts even of poets with delight, and ren- 
 der the lecture-room almost as attractive to rank 
 and luxury as the ball-room or the theatre. 
 
 In the busy and triumphant labor of the Royal 
 Institution, Davy continued for twelve years. 
 During that time, and afterward, honors of every 
 kind, and from all quarters, testified equally the 
 variety of his achievements, and the wide-spread 
 interest which they had succeeded in awakening. 
 He became at successive periods a fellow of the 
 Royal Society, a secretary to it, and in 1820, its 
 president. For his researches in galvanism, as de- 
 tailed in the course of his lectures, he received 
 Napoleon's prize from the French Institute ; Trin- 
 ity College, Dublin, created him doctor of laws ; 
 George IV., as regent, bestowed upon him the 
 honor of knighthood ; and other marks of distinc- 
 tion, of all descriptions, were received by him from 
 sources of honor, aUke at home and abroad. His 
 private opinion of these things is characteristically 
 indicated in the following words of his own. " It 
 is not that honors," he says, "are worth having, 
 but it is painful not to have them. A star gives 
 consequence in the eye of the common world, and 
 even those people who most affect to despise such 
 external signs of court favor, are often influenced 
 by them. Honors are to true glory what artificial 
 lights are to sunshine : they attract those eyes that 
 are not fitted for sunshine. The bat and the moth 
 
216 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 fly toward the torch, and the eagle soars toward 
 the heavens. But it may be said that artificial 
 lights are useful to all eyes, and when they are in- 
 tended to illuminate, and not to dazzle, their effect 
 is excellent." So thought and felt Davy. No 
 doubt, he wrote from his experience of pleasure in 
 the possession of honors ; and although in his own 
 case their " effect" was " excellent" we may ven- 
 ture, perhaps, to express our belief that no really 
 great man will very much concern himself about 
 these matters. When they come, he will submit 
 to them with pleasure ; but should they eschew his 
 neighborhood, it will not be because his court to 
 them has been obsequious. 
 
 A life so happy and prosperous as Davy's was, 
 however, fated to be overcast. On St. Andrew's 
 day, in 1826, he delivered his last oration before 
 the Royal Society, with a feeling of pain, as if 
 prognosticating apoplexy. Accepting the hint 
 given him by exhausted nature, he passed over to 
 the Continent early in 1827, and reached Ravenna 
 on the 20th of February. In this region he sought 
 health in sports and cheerfnl mental exercise. 
 October found him returned to London, neither 
 better nor worse than when he had left. Another 
 summer he passed as he had done the preceding 
 one, and then went to reside in Rome. Here, on 
 the 20th February, 1829, while engaged in finish- 
 ing the " Last Days of a Philosopher," he was 
 prostrated by palsy, his mind only being untouched. 
 Davy expected to be forthwith carried off, and to 
 
nUMPHEEY DAVY. 217 
 
 leave his bones behind him in Rome. The thread 
 of life, however, was yet a little longer to hang un- 
 broken. Lady Davy soon arrived from England, 
 with whom Sir Humphrey left for Geneva, going 
 by way of Florence, Genoa, and Turin. At Ge- 
 neva, on the 29th of May, he suddenly expired. 
 Thus lived and died this great man, whose won- 
 derful talents as a discoverer were only equalled 
 by his industry. Time cannot obliterate the trutlis 
 he revealed, nor will the course of events long be 
 able to lose them. Penzance, his native spot, and 
 Westminster Abbey, hold testimonies to his suc- 
 cessful genius. May our readers place his name 
 in their affectionate memories ; for, in doing so, 
 they will best realise the aspirations of Davy him- 
 self, and people their own thoughts with a name 
 worthy of remembrance. 
 
AMOS LAWEE^^CE. 
 
 Amos Lawrence, whose great success in life 
 may be attributed to his unceasing industry and 
 perseverance, was born in Groton, Massachusetts, 
 in 1786, in which place his family had resided for 
 more than a hundred years. Their names among 
 those of the early settlers have been found record- 
 ed as far back as 1663. 
 
 Samuel Lawrence, the father of Amos, was an 
 officer in the Continental army of the Revolution- 
 ary war. When peace was declared, he settled 
 quietly on his farm at Groton, to enjoy the 
 pleasures of domestic life. His attention having 
 been drawn to the great need of educational 
 ftvcilities, he established and supported a Seminary, 
 which still bears his name. 
 
 While yet very young, Amos Lawrence was sent 
 to the District School, and thence to the Groton 
 Academy. His health, always deUcate, prevented 
 his regular attendance at school, and he would 
 often have been the loser thereby, if he had not 
 always striven to regain the time thus lost by in- 
 creased diligence in study. He remained at the 
 Academy, making good progress in all the Enghsh 
 
AMOS LAWKENCE. 219 
 
 brandies, until his fourteenth year ; at that early- 
 age he was placed in a small country store, as his 
 strength was not thought suflficient for the more 
 laborious duties on the farm. A few months after 
 he was apprenticed to James Brazer, Esq., with 
 whom he continued until of age. He resided in 
 the family of his employer, and although the store 
 was situated but about a mile from his father's 
 residence, yet even at that short distance, Amos 
 seldom had leisure more than once a week to visit 
 his family. He was actively employed from morn- 
 ing till night, and after a couple of years the whole 
 management and responsibility of the business 
 devolved upon him. The store was well supplied 
 with all the various articles belonging to a country 
 store, and, being well situated on the high-road 
 from Boston to New Hampshire and Canada, was 
 the resort of many travelers going to and fro. 
 Soon after he entered his apprenticeship he re- 
 solved upon total abstinence. At that time tem- 
 perance societies were unknown, and almost every 
 person was addicted to the use of intoxicating 
 drinks. His employer and the clerks were in the 
 habit of partaking of a stimulating drink every 
 day about noon. At first Amos Lawrence joined 
 them, but soon fearing that his appetite would 
 increase if he indulged it, he resolutely deter- 
 mined to discontinue the habit altogether. This 
 resolve was the more remarkable from being made 
 unaided and unadvised. In face of the ridicule it 
 would excite in his companions, we must applaud 
 
il2J FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 this act as evincing great strength of mind and 
 decision of character. In writing of this resolu- 
 tion to a young friend, several years afterward, he 
 says :— 
 
 " In the first place, take this for your motto at 
 the commencement of your journey, that the dif- 
 ference of going just rights or a little wrong^ will 
 be the difference of finding yourself in good 
 quarters, or in a miserable bog or slough, at the 
 end of it. Of the whole number educated in the 
 Groton stores for some years before and after my- 
 self, no one else, to my knowledge, escaped the 
 bog or slough ; and my escape I trace to the 
 simple fact of my having put a restraint upon my 
 appetite. We five boys were in the habit, every 
 forenoon, of making a drink compounded of rum, 
 raisins, sugar, nutmeg, etc., with biscuit — all palat- 
 able to eat and drink. After being in the store 
 four weeks, I found myself admonished by my ap- 
 petite of the approach of the hour for indulgence. 
 Thinking the habit might make trouble if allowed 
 to grow stronger, without further apology to my 
 seniors, I declined partaking with them. My first 
 resolution was to abstain for a week, and, when 
 the week was out, for a month, and then for a year. 
 Finally, I resolved to abstain for the rest of my 
 apprenticeship, which was for five years longer. 
 During that whole period, I never drank a spoon- 
 ful, though I mixed gallons daily for my old 
 master and his customers. I decided not to be a 
 slave to tobacco in any form, though I loved the 
 
AMOS LAWRENCE. 221 
 
 odor of it then, and even now have in my drawer 
 a superior Havana cigar, given me, not long since, 
 by a friend, but only to smell of. I have never in 
 my life smoked a cigar ; never chewed but one 
 quid, and that was before I was fifteen ; and never 
 took an ounce of snuff, though the scented rappee 
 of forty years ago had great charms for me. Now, 
 I say, to this simple fact of starting just right am 
 I indebted, with God's blessing on my labors, for 
 my present position, as well as that of the numer- 
 ous connections sprung up around me." 
 
 Amos Lawrence, thus in the beginning of his 
 career, nobly withstood the temptations surround- 
 ing him, and even at this early age obtained a 
 reputation for probity and fairness which he main- 
 tained through life. 
 
 In the same month which terminated his ap- 
 prenticeship he started for Boston, in hopes to 
 establish a credit whereby he could commence 
 business for himself He took his father's horse 
 and chaise, and, engaging a neighbor to drive to 
 Boston, he started with but twenty dollars. To 
 use his own words : 
 
 "Twenty dollars in my pocket, but feeling 
 richer than I had ever felt before, or have felt 
 since ; so rich that I gave the man who came with 
 me, two dollars to save him from any expence, 
 and insure him against loss by his spending two 
 days on the journey here and back (for which he 
 was glad of an excuse.") 
 
 Soon after his arrival, he had an opportunity of 
 
222 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 entering a large mercantile house, which he em- 
 braced, as it afforded the means of better under- 
 standing trade and finance, as they are conducted 
 in a metropolis, and also would give him the ad- 
 vantage of business acquaintances. He had been 
 a clerk but a few months when his employers, be- 
 ing much pleased with him, offered to take him in 
 as partner; but this young Lawrence declined, 
 much to their astonishment. He did not think the 
 business in a safe position ; which supposition 
 proved to be true, for soon after the firm became 
 insolvent. Mr. Lawrence, in the winter of the 
 same year, commenced business for himself, by 
 means of a credit which he readily obtained. His 
 honesty, application, and manner, inspired confi- 
 dence in all with whom he came in contact. 
 
 Now fairly embarked, he advanced on the road 
 to fortune steadily; exhibiting great exactness, 
 fairness, and energy, in all that appertained to 
 business. In writing to a friend, he says : 
 
 " I adopted the plan of keeping an accurate ac- 
 count of merchandise bought and sold each day, 
 with the profit, as far as practicable. I was thus 
 enabled to form an opinion of my actual state as a 
 business man. I adopted also the rule always to 
 have property, after my second year's business, to 
 represent forty per cent., at least, more than I 
 owed ; that is, never to be in debt more than two 
 and a half times my capital. This caution saved 
 me from ever getting embarrassed. If it were 
 more generally adopted, we should see fewer fail- 
 
AMOS LAWRENCE. 223 
 
 iires in business. Excessive credit is the rock on 
 which so many business men are broken. 
 
 " When I commenced, the Embargo had just 
 been laid, and with such restrictions on trade that 
 many were induced to leave it. But I felt great 
 confidence that, by industry, economy, and integ- 
 rity, I could get a Uving, and the experiment 
 showed that I was right. Most of the young men 
 who commenced at that period failed by spending 
 too much money, and using credit too freely. I 
 made about fifteen hundred dollars the first year, 
 and more than four thousand the second. Proba- 
 bly had I made four thousand the first year, I 
 should have failed the second or third year. I 
 practised the system of rigid economy, and nevei* 
 allowed myself to spend a fourpence for unneces- 
 sary objects, until I had acquired it." 
 
 In another letter to a friend, he writes : 
 
 During the first seven years of my business in 
 this city, I never allowed a bill against me to stand 
 unsettled over the Sabbath. If the purchases of 
 goods were made at auction on Saturday, and de- 
 livered to me, I always examined and settled the 
 bill by note or by crediting it, and having it clear, 
 so that, in case I was not on duty on Monday, there 
 would be no trouble for my boys ; thus keeping 
 the business before me, instead of allowing it to 
 drive me." 
 
 Mr. Lawrence improved his leisure time in read- 
 ing and studying. In writing to his son, many 
 years afterward, he says : 
 
224 FxVMOUS BOYS. 
 
 " When I first came to this city, I took lodgings 
 in the family of a widow who had commenced 
 keeping boarders for a living. I was one of her 
 first, and she, of course, while I remained, was 
 inclined to adopt any rules for the boarders that I 
 prescribed. The only one I ever made was, that, 
 after supper, all the boarders who remained in the 
 public room should remain quiet at least for one 
 hour, to give those who chose to study or read an 
 opportunity of doing so without disturbance. The 
 consequence was, that we had the most quiet and 
 improving set of young men in the town. The 
 few who did not wish to comply with the regula- 
 tion went abroad after tea, sometimes to the 
 theatre, sometimes to other places, but, to a man, 
 became bankrupt in after life, not only in fortune, 
 but in reputation ; while a majority of the other 
 class sustained good characters, and some are now 
 living who are ornaments to society, and fill im- 
 portant stations. The influence of this small 
 measure will perhaps be felt throughout genera- 
 tions. It was not less favorable on myself than on 
 others." 
 
 From this point Mr. Lawrence advanced rapidly 
 to fortune. He became one of the leading and 
 most influential merchants of New England, and 
 for many years was identified with some of the 
 largest manufacturing and mercantile transactions 
 of the country. By well-directed prudence and 
 great commercial sagacity, Amos Lawrence, in 
 co-operation with his brother Abbott, whom he 
 
AMOS LAWRENCE. 225 
 
 had received into partnership, guided his business 
 through many storms, and at a time when credit 
 was shaken in every leading city of the Union, he 
 was enabled to stand firm. His wealth soon be- 
 came almost enormous, but his benevolence fully 
 kept pace with his gains. As soon as he found 
 himself in possession of an income more than suffi- 
 cient for his frugal wants, he began to systemati- 
 cally relieve the destitute, and to contribute to all 
 worthy charities. His gifts soon became bountiful. 
 He made money, but he made it that he might 
 bestow. During his lifetime the sums that he ex- 
 pended for purposes of charity exceeded six hund- 
 red thousand dollars. A peculiarity of his bounty 
 was the personal attention and sympathy with 
 which it was bestowed. " He had in his house," 
 says Professor Hopkins, " a room where he kept 
 stores of useful articles for distribution. lie made 
 up the bundle ; he directed the package. No de- 
 tail was overlooked. He remembered the children, 
 and designated for each the toy, the book, the 
 elegant gift. He thought of every want, and was 
 ingenious and happy in devising appropriate gifts. 
 In this attention to the minutest token of regard, 
 while, at the same time, he could give away thou- 
 sands like a prince, he was unequaled ; and if the 
 gift was appropriate, the manner of giving was not 
 less so. There was in this the nicest appreciation 
 of the feeling of others, and an intuitive perception 
 of delicacy and propriety. These were the char- 
 acteristics that gave him a hold upon the hearts 
 15 
 
S2§ FAAtOUS BOYS. 
 
 of mati j, and made his death really felt as that 
 of few other men in Boston could have been. In 
 this we find not a little of the utility and much of 
 the beauty of charity. Even in his human life man 
 does not live by bread alone, but by sympathy 
 and the play of reciprocal afiection, and is often 
 more touched by the kindness than by the relief. 
 Only this sympathy it is that can establish the 
 right relation between the rich and the poor, and 
 the necessity for this can be superseded by no 
 legal provision. This only can neutralize the re- 
 pellent and aggressive tendencies of individuals 
 and of classes, and make society a brotherhood, 
 where the various inequalities shall work out 
 moral goo 1, and Avhere acts of mutual kindness 
 and helpfulness may pass and repass, as upon a 
 golden chain, during a brief pi grimage and scene 
 of probation. It is a great and a good thing for a 
 rich man to set the stream of charity in motion ; 
 to employ an agent, to send a check, to found an 
 asylum, to endow a professorship, to open a foun- 
 tain that shall flow for ages ; but it is as different 
 from sympathy with present suflering, and the re- 
 lief of immediate want, as the building of a dam 
 to turn a fiictory by one great sluiceway is from 
 the irrigation of the fields. By Mr. Lawrence 
 both were done. He gave as a Christian man, 
 from a sense of religious obligation ; not that all 
 his gifts had a religious aspect : he gave gifts of 
 friendship and afiection. There was a large in- 
 closure where the afiTections walked foremost, and 
 
AMOS LAWRENCE. 22T 
 
 where, though they asked leave of Duty, they yet 
 received no prompting from her." 
 
 We quote the following estimate of Mr. Law- 
 rence's religious character : 
 
 " He was a deeply-religious man. His trust in 
 God and his hope of salvation through Christ were 
 the basis of his character. He believed in the 
 providence of God as concerned in all events, and 
 as discriminating and retributive in this world. 
 He felt that he could trust God in his providence 
 where he could not see. ' The events of my life,' 
 he says, ' have been so far ordered in a way to 
 make me feel that I know nothing at the time 
 except that a Father rules ; and his discipline, 
 however severe, is never more so than is required.' 
 He believed in the Bible, and saw rightly its re- 
 lation to all our blessings. ' What,' he writes 
 again, ' should we do if the Bible were not the 
 foundation of our self-government ? and what will 
 become of us when we willfully and wickedly 
 cast it behind us ?' He read the Bible morning 
 and evening in his family, and prayed with them j 
 and it may aid those who are acquainted with the 
 prayers of Thornton, in forming a concejition of 
 his religious character, to know that he used 
 them. Family religion he esteemed as above all 
 price ; and when he first learned that a beloved 
 relative had established family worship, he wept 
 for joy. He distributed religious books very ex- 
 tensively, chiefly those of the American Tract 
 Society and of the American Sunday School 
 
228 FA^rous boys. 
 
 Union. * * * Of creeds held in the under- 
 standing, but not influencing the life, he thought 
 little, and the tendency of his mind was to prac- 
 tical rather than doctrinal views. He believed in 
 our Lord Jesus Christ as a Saviour, and trusted in 
 him for salvation. He was a man of habitual 
 prayer. The last time I visited him, he said to 
 me that he had been restless during the night, 
 and that the only way in which he could get 
 ' quieted was by getting near to God,' and that 
 he went to sleep repeating a prayer. During the 
 same visit, he spoke strongly of his readiness, and 
 even of his desire to depart. He viewed death 
 with tranquility and hope, and preparation for it 
 was habitual with him. What need I say more ? 
 At midnight the summons came, and his work was 
 done." 
 
 Amos Lawrence died on the 31st of December, 
 1852. 
 
STEPHEN GIEAED. 
 
 Stepen Gieard was born on the 24th of May, 
 1750, near Bordeaux, in France. His parents were 
 in an humble sphere of life, and his education was 
 confined to a limited knowledge of reading and 
 writing. He left his native country at the age of 
 ten or twelve years, as a cabin-boy in a vessel 
 bound for the West Indies. The loss of his eye at 
 that time tended to increase the natural morose- 
 ness of his temper, as he was sensitive to the ridi- 
 cule of his associates. He remained but a short 
 time in the West Indies, and again as cabin-boy 
 sailed for New York. Having gained the confi- 
 dence of his employer, he became first mate, then 
 captain of a small vessel, and made several profit- 
 able voyages to New Orleans. Engaging success- 
 fully in small adventures, he soon became part 
 owner of the cargo and vessel which he com- 
 manded. It is not known what first induced him 
 to go to Philadelphia, but he became, in 1V69, an 
 obscure trader in Water Street. About this time 
 he was married, and his only child died in child- 
 hood. 
 
 In partnership with Isaac Hazlehurst, Esq., of 
 
230 FAMOUS EOYS. 
 
 Philadelphia, he purchased two vessels to trade 
 with St. Domingo, but the vessels were captured, 
 and taken to Jamaica, and the firm was dissolved. 
 From 1772 to 1776 he probably acted as shipmas- 
 ter and merchant, dispatching goods to New Or- 
 leans or St. Domingo, remaining at home some- 
 times to settle accounts and adjust profits. The 
 war which followed injured his commercial busi- 
 ness, and he opened a small grocery shop in Water 
 Street, connected with a bottling establishment 
 for claret and cider. On the approach of the 
 British, in 1 777, he purchased a small tract of land, 
 called Mount Holly, on which was a hous6, where 
 he sold his fluids to great advantage to the Ameri- 
 can soldiers, as the encampment was in the vi- 
 cinity. Upon the evacuation of Philadelphia, he 
 returned to the city, and occupied a range of frame 
 stores in Water Street, which were filled with 
 pieces of cordage, sails, and old V )cks, destined 
 to fit out ships at some future timj. 
 
 In 1780, Girard again entered upon the New 
 Orleans and St. Domingo trade, and increased his 
 gains so much as to enable him to extend his en- 
 terprises to a larger scale. He leased for ten 
 years a range of brick and frame stores, one of 
 which he occupied, and rented the others to great 
 advantage, and has been heard to say he dated 
 his subsequent good fortune to this foundation. 
 His connection with his brother. Captain John 
 Girard, terminated in consequence of misunder- 
 standing, and the partnership was dissolved; his 
 
STEPHEN GtRAED. 331 
 
 share of the business amounting to about thirty 
 thousand dollars. His wife died in 1815, having 
 been twenty-five years a patient in the insane de- 
 partment of the Pennsylvania Hospital, on which 
 occasion he presented to that institution the sum 
 of three thousand dollars, besides Hberally reward- 
 ing the attendants. His profits were greatly in- 
 creased by the circumstance of two of his ships 
 being at St. Domingo at the time of the insurrec- 
 tion on that island. The planters in their alarm 
 rushed to the docks to deposit their most valuable 
 property in the sliips lying there, and on returning 
 to secure more, most of them were massacred, 
 and but few claims were ever made on the pro- 
 perty, which was found to be very great. This 
 was sent to Philadelphia, and added greatly to his 
 original fortune. 
 
 In the year 1791, Mr. Girard commenced build- 
 ing ships — which have been a source of pride to 
 Philadelphia — to engage in trade with Calcutta 
 and China. He showed some national feeling in 
 naming his ships Montesquieu, Helvetius, Vol- 
 taire, and Rousseau. His conduct, during the 
 dreadful pestilence which in 1793 visited the 
 beautiful city of Philadelphia, is well known, and 
 sufficient to redeem his character from the selfish- 
 ness and want of feehng generally attributed to it. 
 He entered into the most loathsome abodes, and 
 performed constantly at the hospital the most 
 menial services. It is probable that his early 
 residence in a tropical climate made him less liable 
 
FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 to the disease, but this does not in any degree 
 abate the credit he deserves for exposing his Hfe 
 for his fellow-beings. 
 
 The establishment of his private bank, which 
 was probably at first intended merely as a tempo- 
 rary circumstance, finally conferred upon the com- 
 munity great advantages, and rendered very im- 
 portant service to the government. A circum- 
 stance which occurred in 1813 enabled him to add 
 materially to his own funds, besides the benefit to 
 the national treasury from the duties due to the 
 government. His ship, the Montesquieu, was cap- 
 tured in the Delaware by a British frigate, with 
 an invoiced cargo of two hundred thousand dol- 
 lars, consisting of teas, nankeen, and silks, from 
 Canton ; but it was determined by the captors, to 
 avoid the risk of a recapture in attempting to 
 carry their prize to a British port, to send a flag 
 of truce to Mr. Girard with a proposal of ransom. 
 He immediately sent to the British commander 
 the sum of ninety-three thousand dollars in doub- 
 loons; and is supposed to have realised by the 
 transaction half a million of dollars. His patriot- 
 ism was shown in 1814, by his judicious and 
 liberal aid to the country at a time when an in- 
 vading army was marching over the land, and the 
 national treasury exhausted. 
 
 One of the distinguishing characteristics of Mr. 
 Girard was his public spirit. He subscribed one 
 hundred and ten thousand dollars for the naviga- 
 tion of the Schuylkill, besides numerous loans at 
 
STEPHEN GIRAKD. 233 
 
 vario' s times. At one time, when the county was 
 believed to have been injured by an injudicious 
 course of internal improvements, he made a volun- 
 tary loan of one hundred thousand dollars. He 
 erected in Philadelphia numerous blocks of build- 
 ings, adding much to its beauty. Among other 
 public -spirited acts he subscribed two hundred 
 thousand dollars to the Danville and Pottsville 
 Railroad, and ten thousand dollars toward the 
 erection of a public Exchange. 
 
 In person, Mr. Girard was low and square, but 
 muscular, and bearing the characteristic appear- 
 ance of an old sailor. His skin was dark, and the 
 loss of his eye added to the cold and hard expres- 
 sion of his face. His style of dress was peculiar,* 
 and generally very shabby. His equipage was 
 always mean, and his personal habits penurious in 
 the extreme. 
 
 Mr. Girard lived to the advanced age of eighty- 
 four, and his death was hastened from his disregard 
 of all assistance. Being partially blind, he was 
 knocked down by a wagon when crossing the 
 street, which nearly took off his ear, seriously 
 bruised his head, and almost totally deprived him 
 of sight. From this time his health declined, and, 
 in December, 1830, an attack of influenza ended 
 his existence. He died on the 26th of that month, 
 in a back-room at his house in Water Street. By 
 his will he bequeathed to the Pennsylvania Hospi- 
 tal, thirty thousand dollars ; to the Deaf and Dumb 
 Institution, twenty thousand ; to the Public Schools 
 
234 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 of the city and county of Pliiladel]"»hia, ten thou- 
 sand ; to the Orphans' Asylum, ten thousand ; to 
 the Relief of Distressed Masters of Ships, ten 
 thousand ; to the Masonic Loan, twenty thousand ; 
 for the erection of a pubUc school, six thousand ; 
 to all the captains in his employ, having performed 
 a given service, fifteen hundred dollars each ; to 
 his apprentices, each five hundred dollars ; to the 
 city of New Orleans, two hundred and eight 
 thousand acres of land, with thirty slaves ; and the 
 remainder of his lands in Louisiana to the corj^o- 
 ration of Philadelphia ; to the commonwealth of 
 Pennsylvania he gave three hundred thousand dol- 
 lars for internal improvement; the sum of two 
 «nillions was left for the purpose of the erection of 
 a building, and founding a college for orphan 
 children. In addition to these, Mr. Girard made 
 considerable bequests to his relatives ; but the bulk 
 of his immense fortune was left to the city of 
 Philadelphia, where his fortune had been made. 
 He gave in his will particular directions for expend- 
 ing portions of his wealth in certain public im- 
 provements ; among others, five hundred thousand 
 dollars for the improvement of the Delaware front 
 of the city, and the widening of Water Street ; 
 and he desired that a square which he had long 
 kept vacant should be intersected by a street, and 
 covered with four blocks of buildings, erected on 
 a uniform plan, which was done soon after his 
 decease; and the rents of these buildings now 
 constitute an important part of the revenues of the 
 
STEPHEN GIBABD. 235 
 
 city. The new street afld the splendid row of 
 buildings ou Chesuut are now respectively desig- 
 nated by the name of Girard. 
 
 " In his will," says his biographer, " he clearly 
 showed what had been the object of his long and 
 fixed labor in acquisition. While he was forward 
 — with an apparent disregard of self — to expose 
 his life on behalf of others in the midst of pesti- 
 lence, to aid the internal improvements of the 
 country, and to promote his commercial prosperity 
 by all the means withm his power, he yet had 
 more ambitious designs. He wished to hand him- 
 self down to immortality by the only mode that 
 was practicable for a man in his position, and he 
 accomplished precisely that which was the grand 
 aim of his life. He wrote his epitaph in those ex- 
 tensive and magnificent blocks and spaces which 
 adorn the streets of his adopted city, in the public 
 works and eleemosynary establishments of his 
 adopted state, and erected his own monument and 
 embodied his own principles in a maible-roofed 
 palace for the education of the orphan poor. We 
 who shall hereafter gaze upon that splendid edi- 
 fice, the most perfect model of architecture in the 
 Kew World, will perceive the result of the singu- 
 lar character of its founder, and shall be left in 
 doubt whether, after all, his faults were not over- 
 balanced by his ultimate munificence." 
 
 A VISIT TO GIRARD COLLEGE. 
 
 This noble charity is, perhaps, both internally 
 
FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 and externally, the finest*edifice of which America 
 can boast ; and all the gift of a shrewd, enterpris- 
 ing, persevering, albeit miserly, unbelieving old 
 sailor. The main edifice is modeled after the Par- 
 thenon at Athens. Its colonnade is Corinthian, 
 and single; that of the Parthenon was double, 
 and Doric. But here comparison is at an end. 
 The friezes of the Parthenon were the work of 
 Phidias, and the pride not only of Grecian sculp- 
 ture, but the architectural glory of the world. The 
 Parthenon cost six millions; Girard College two. 
 Each of these magnificient columns cost fourteen 
 thousand dollars — sufficient, column by column, to 
 erect a substantial college edifice. 
 
 On entering the lofty doorway, thirty-six feet in 
 height, pay your respects to Stephen Girard. 
 There he stands, right before you, in marble, with 
 his hands crossed before him, in plain citizen's 
 dress, just as he walked the streets of Philadel- 
 phia. A plain iron railing surrounds the statue, 
 and keeps all comers at a respectable distance. At 
 the right, is the spacious council-rooms of the 
 boai'd of directors ; at the left, the doorway of the 
 great chapel. Beyond are recitation rooms. In 
 one, a professor was lecturing to the larger boys 
 on anatomy. When he proposed a question, 
 dozens rose from their seats, and waved their 
 hands in t(»ken of being able to answer. The for- 
 tunate fellow to whom he nodded, shouted the 
 reply. In the rooms above were large classes 
 under the care of female teachers. The tender 
 
STEPHEN GIKAED. 237 
 
 age of the orphans requires, at present, maternal 
 influence ; and this they receive, both at the hands 
 of their instructors, and from the matrons of the 
 boarding estabhshments. The rooms upon the 
 third floor of the college are lighted from the roof. 
 Here is the library ; here is the wardrobe of Girard 
 — the old pantaloons, patched upon the knee with 
 pieces of different colors, worn by the millionaire 
 a short time before his death. Here are boxes of 
 shipping papers, his secretoire and iron safe. From 
 thence, clamber to the top of the immense struc- 
 ture. A roof of marble ! Six thousand tons of 
 marble in the roof alone will give the imagination 
 or calculation of the reader some data for the esti- 
 mation of the enormous weight of other parts of 
 the structure, or of the building as a whole. The 
 building is all marble! Only one little staircase 
 leading to the roof is of wood; the rest is all solid 
 masonry. The reverberations of the lofty ceilings 
 totally unfitted the rooms for school purposes. This 
 had to be remedied by interposing an artificial 
 ceiling of canvas or cotton cloth, to muffle the 
 sound, or stifle the echoes which the slightest 
 word or footfall generated by the million in the 
 vaulted chambers. 
 
 In the school-rooms the desks and seats are ele- 
 vated by the thickness of a single plank, lest the 
 coldness or dampness of the stone-flagged floor 
 should induce cold feet, and thus injure the 
 health of the pupils. 
 
 At five o'clock we went to the chapel for 
 
238 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 prayers. Across the entire west end of the chapel 
 is an elevated platform. In its centre is a regular 
 pulpit or reading-desk, occupied by the president 
 in isolated dignity. At his left was a splendid 
 piano : on either hand, on settees and chairs, the 
 faculty of the institution, and visitors, of whom 
 they have from one hundred and fifty to two 
 hundred a day. Here collected, in quiet and order, 
 three hundred orphan boys, each section under the 
 care of its own director. Each had his hymn- 
 book and Bible. Here three hundred voices joined 
 to sing in moving melody, 
 
 "Come, let us join our cheerful songs 
 With angels round the throne." 
 
 No chance for infidelity or heterodoxy here, 
 thought we, as the charming volume of infant 
 voices rolled forth the sentiments, impressing them- 
 selves, doubtless, by the power of the ever-present 
 Spirit, signally upon the infant heart : — 
 
 "Worthy the Lamb that died, they cry, 
 To be exalted thus ; 
 "Worthy the Lamb, our hearts reply, 
 For he was slain for us." 
 
 When the president took up the Bible, after the 
 singing, every pupil opened to the chapter named, 
 and followed the reading with attention ; and when 
 he said, " Let us pray," every one kneeled rever- 
 ently in his place, before that God who has pro- 
 
STEPHEN GIRAED. 239 
 
 mised to be a father to the fatherless, and the 
 widow's God. The sight was beyond measure 
 affecting. 
 
 Under the efficient management of the president 
 and the able board of directors, every thing has 
 been reduced to the most perfect system. The 
 lads retired from the chapel as quietly as they had 
 entered it. Merry was the shout that arose from 
 the lawn appropriated for the playground, when, 
 the restraints of the day over, they were permitted 
 to exercise themselves before tea, in the open air. 
 We saw them at supper. They repair to the 
 dining-hall in the same admirable order, section 
 by section. As the procession, two and two, enter 
 the door, they divide at the head of the table, and 
 one line goes down one side, and the other the 
 other, each to his appropriated seat. The fare is 
 simple ; weak tea or water, bread and butter, 
 or bread and molasses, constitute the healthful 
 regimen. 
 
 The washing-room was a curiosity. Every body 
 had a tin basin, towel, hair-brush, clothes-brush, 
 tooth-brush, and looking-glass, to himself The 
 supply of water from hydrants was plentiful, and 
 once a week, or oftener, they were required to 
 bathe in rooms or tubs prepared for the purpose. 
 Every boy had drawers for his clothing, labelled 
 with his name, and in the dormitories every one 
 was provided with an iron bedstead, with plenty 
 of bedding, covered with a counterpane of spot- 
 less whiteness. Nearly all the orphans are from 
 
240 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 the city and county of Philadelphia. To prevent 
 the interference of friends, they are all indentured 
 apprentices, according to the laws of Pennsyl- 
 vania, 
 
SAMUEL CROMPTOI^. 
 
 The results of perseverance are seen not only 
 in individual progress and personal success, but in 
 the happiness and prosperity of towns, of districts, 
 of countries. Some ingenious mechanic, to further 
 his own ends, may devise a machine which may 
 save him from many tedious hours' labor : the 
 machine not only answers his individual ends, but 
 is an invention for all time, to save so much man- 
 ual labor to the human family. No more remark- 
 able instance is to be found than in the life of 
 Samuel Crompton, the inventor of the " Spinning 
 Mule." His discovery gave an immense impetus 
 to the industry of the people of Lancashire, 
 causing insignificant villages to spring into large 
 and important towns. 
 
 Samuel Crompton was born on the 3rd of De- 
 cember, 1753. His ancestors had occupied dis- 
 tinguished positions both in the commercial and 
 legal world. His parents resided at Firwood, in 
 the township of Tonge, near Bolton ; they were 
 farmers, but, as was the custom of the time, the 
 leisure of the family was devoted to carding, 
 spinning, and weaving. George Crompton, the 
 16 
 
242 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 father of Samuel, died at the early age of thirty- 
 seven. He and his wife, Elizabeth (better known 
 as Betty) Holt, of Turton, were religious people, 
 regularly attending the services at the Chapel-in- 
 the-fields, now kno\vn as All Saints' Church, Little 
 Bolton. 
 
 Fortunately for Samuel, his mother was a pru- 
 dent and exemplary w^oman. She had decision 
 and energy in her character : some thought her 
 self-willed and imperative ; but no mother could 
 have been kinder or more solicitous for her son's 
 welfare than Betty Crompton Avas for her son 
 Samuel. The school that this good woman sent 
 her boy to was kept by one William Barlow, who 
 had quite a reputation for his skill in writing, 
 arithmetic, book-keeping, geometry, mensuration, 
 and mathematics ; he was styled " a witch in 
 figures." No doubt this school afforded Samuel 
 all the education that he received, and that his 
 attendance was not protracted to any lengthened 
 period, as his mother would be anxious to avail 
 herself of his earliest capable services. During 
 this period, Samuel says that his mother practised 
 to the very letter the injunctions of Scripture, many 
 times subjecting him to a beating, not for any 
 fault, but because " she so loved him" — an excess 
 of kindness from which she might have been 
 excused. 
 
 When Samuel was in his sixteenth year he was 
 occupied at the loom at his mother's house. For 
 sjix years previous there had been a great demand 
 
SAMITEL CROMPTON. 243 
 
 for cotton goods, and especially for imitations of 
 the muslins sent from India. The efforts of the 
 manufiicturers to produce these goods at home 
 were fruitless. A little advance had been made 
 in the means of producing the cloth ; Kay, of 
 Bury, had invented a mode of throwing the shuttle 
 by a simple contrivance by which the weaver 
 could make twice as much cloth ; and Hargreaves, 
 a weaver of Stand-hill, near Blackburn, had invent- 
 ed the jenny. But both Kay and Hargreaves were 
 driven from their country by the ignorant prejud- 
 ices of their fellow-workmen, who conceived that 
 their inventions would throw them out of employ. 
 While Samuel was working at home on one of 
 these machines, he was also learning to think. 
 His mother exacted a certain amount of work 
 daily. His leisure, however — for he had some 
 hours of relaxation — was devoted to making a 
 violin, which he soon learned to play upon, con- 
 tracting a love for the instrument which never 
 afterward left him. This, and the few books which 
 were at his command, filled up the spare time not 
 given to his daily tasks. 
 
 When Samuel was in his twenty-first year, he 
 commenced the construction of his " Mule," which 
 took him five years to perfect. He thus briefly 
 relates the experience of these years : — 
 
 " The next five years had this addition to my 
 labor as a weaver, occasioned by the imperfect 
 state of cotton-spinning, viz., a continual endeavor 
 to realize a more perfect principle of spinning ; 
 
244 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 and, thougli often baffled, I as often renewed the 
 attempt, and at length succeeded to my utmost 
 desire, at the expense of every shilKng I had in 
 the world." 
 
 All this experimenting was done at "over 
 hours. '^ This also necessitated many hours which 
 should have been spent in bed, being devoted to 
 the "improvements." The lights and noises at 
 all sorts of untimely hours heard and seen at the 
 old Hall, originated a report that it was haunted. 
 This was, no doubt, the fact; but it was with 
 Samuel's restless spirit, which would not be laid 
 until his object was attained. The only tools he 
 had to work with were a few sacredly preserved 
 by his mother, that were once the property of his 
 father, and used by him in the construction of a 
 church organ. Every spare shilling was devoted 
 to adding to their number ; and, for this purpose, 
 Samuel frequently hired himself and his darling 
 violin to the manager of the Bolton Theatre for 
 one shilling and sixpence per night, so that he 
 might purchase some needed tool for his inven- 
 tions. The "Mule" was chiefly constructed of 
 wood ; but parts of it were of iron, as it has sub- 
 sequently been ascertained that he frequently 
 visited a small way-side smithy in the township, 
 Avhere he " used to file his bits of things." 
 
 In a paper which John Kennedy, Esq., read be- 
 fore the Manchester Literary and Philosophical 
 Society in 1830, he informs us that "Crompton's 
 machine was called the ' Hall-in-the-wood wheel, 
 
SAMUEL CROMPTOX. 245 
 
 or muslin wheel, because its capabilities rendered 
 it available for yarn for making muslins ; and finally 
 it got the name of the ' Muk, from its partaking 
 of the two leading features of Mr. Arkwright's 
 machine and Hargreaves's spinning-jenny." 
 
 When Crompton was just on the eve of couv 
 pleting his machine, in 1779, the Blackburn spin- 
 ners and weavers were excited to riot against the 
 machinery, which they ignorantly supposed would 
 destroy their means of living. Every jenny for 
 miles round Blackburn was destroyed, excepthig 
 such only as had less than twenty spindles. Samuel, 
 during this outbreak, took his machine to pieces 
 and concealed the parts in the loft or garret, not 
 daring to put them together for some weeks after. 
 In the course of the same year, however, it was all 
 complete, and yarn spun upon it, which was used 
 for the manufacture of muslins of a very fine de- 
 scription. 
 
 The first profits of the " Mule" were spent upon 
 a silver watch, made expressly for Samuel by a 
 watchmaker in Bolton. This which was his con- 
 stant companion for fifty years. Soon after, Samuel 
 set up house on his own account in a cottage at- 
 tached to the old Hall, taking home Mary Pimlott, 
 who made him an excellent wife and judicious ad- 
 viser. She is said to have been gifted with an ad- 
 ditional sense "something like Scotch second-sight, 
 by which she could tell a rogue in an instant, and 
 warn her family to have nothing to do with him." 
 Samuel now worked upon his " Mule" ' with the 
 
24:0 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 utmost secrecy, and astonished the manufacturers 
 by lYiQ fineness and firmness of the yarn he pro- 
 duced. Everything at this time had a promising 
 and cheery look for a happy future. 
 
 Samuel was then only twenty-seven years of 
 age, and the inventor of a machine which from the 
 first hour of its completion altered the entire sys- 
 tem of cotton manufactures in the country. It 
 w^as now seen that the much-coveted India-muslins, 
 could be made at home. We may well suppose, 
 therefore, that the neighboring manufocturers 
 were very anxious to penetrate the secret of 
 Samuel's invention. This, of course, he was very 
 unwilling to disclose. The old Hall was besieged 
 as a consequence, by persons near and from a dis- 
 tance ; some to purchase yarn, others desirous of 
 learning something of the wonderful new wheel. 
 All sorts of stratagems were used to obtain ad- 
 mission to the house ; and when this was denied 
 many climbed up to the windows outside, by the 
 aid of harrows and ladders, to look in at the ma- 
 chinery. 
 
 A screen was erected to defeat this espionage ; 
 but that was not always successful. One man is 
 said to have ensconced himself for some days in 
 the cock-loft, watching Samuel at work through a 
 gimlet-hole pierced through the ceiling. 
 
 Under these circumstances it seemed impossible 
 to retain the secret of his machine. In one of his 
 papers he refers to this period : " During this time 
 I mai-ried, and commenced spinner altogether. 
 
Samuel Crompton inventing his celebrated Mule. 
 
 Piige 246- 
 
SAMUEL CROMPTON. 24:7 
 
 But a few months reduced me to the cruel neces- 
 sity either of destroying my machine altogether, 
 or giving it up to the public. To destroy it I 
 could not think of; to give up that for which I 
 had labored so long was cruel. I had no j^atent, 
 nor the means of purchasing one. In preference 
 to destroying, I gave it to the public." He 
 trusted to the manufacturers to remunerate him ; 
 and they made, indeed, a sort of one-sided bargain 
 with him. The agreement was thus drawn up : 
 " We whose names are hereunto subscribed, have 
 agreed to give, and do hereby promise to pay 
 unto, Samuel Crompton, at the Hall-in-the-Wood, 
 near Bolton, the several sums opposite to our 
 names, as a reward for his improvement in spin- 
 ning. Several of the principal tradesmen in Man- 
 chester, Bolton, &c., having seen his new machine, 
 approve of it, and are of opinion that it would be 
 of the greatest public utility to make it generally 
 known, to which end a contribution is desired 
 from every well-wisher of trade." According to 
 one statement Samuel derived $250 for giving up 
 his "Mule;" while another authority sets the 
 amount at $500. Crompton said himself: " I re- 
 ceived as much by way of subscription as built 
 me a new machine with only four spindles more 
 than the one I had given up ; the old one having 
 forty-eight, the new one fifty-two spindles." How 
 miserable this result, when the advantage rendered 
 is taken into account ! 
 But more shameful still — even those parties that 
 
248 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 had promised a wretched dolement, when the 
 " Mule" had left Crompton's hands, sought by any 
 or every means to evade the payment. He wrote : 
 " At last I consented, in hoi3e of a generous and 
 liberal subscription. The consequence was, that 
 from many subscribers, who would not pay the 
 sum they had set opposite their names when I ap 
 plied to them for it, I got nothing but abusive 
 language, given to me to drive me from them, 
 which was easily done^ for I never till then could 
 think it possible that any man (in such situations 
 of life and circumstances) could pretend one thing 
 and act the direct opposite. I then found it was 
 possible, having had proof positive." This dis- 
 graceful conduct on the part of the manufactur- 
 ers tended to sour the temper of Samuel for the 
 remainder of his days. 
 
 Some time before the year 1785, Crompton re- 
 moved from the old Hall to the firm-house at Old- 
 hams, about two miles from Bolton. His new 
 "Mule" was erected in the upper story, and, to 
 prevent the crowds, who flocked to see the new 
 wheels, gaining admission to the apartment, 
 Samuel contrived a secret fastening for the door. 
 One of the visitors was no less a person than the 
 first Sir Robert Peel, then a member of the firm 
 of Peel, Ainsworth and Co., Bolton. On the first 
 visit he found Crompton absent, when he chatted 
 with his wife, and presented his son George with 
 half a guinea. On Mrs. Crompton going into her 
 dairy for a bowl of milk for her guest, Mr. Peel 
 
SAMUEL cko:mpton. 249 
 
 took the opportunity to ask the boy where his 
 father worked. He was just pointing out the 
 secret contrivance for fastening the door latch, 
 when his mother returned and warned him by a 
 look that he was doing wrong. It is creditable to 
 the Peel fiimily to know that old Mr. Peel's visit 
 was made with the intention of inducing Mr. 
 Crompton to accept a lucrative situation in his 
 employ, and subsequently a partnership with his 
 concern. 
 
 Samuel saw fit to decline both these offers. 
 Doubtless, had he acceded to the overture, he 
 would have been saved from much after-sorrow ; 
 but he had been disappointed once, and his faith 
 in promises was considerably lessened. He con- 
 tinued, therefore, in his own loft, hoping at least 
 to secure as much success as his neighbors ; but in 
 this he was doomed to be disappointed. No 
 sooner did he teach any new hands the use of his 
 machines than they were bribed to leave him by 
 some of the manufacturers. Crompton thus bit- 
 terly records this additional injustice: "I pushed 
 on, intending to have a good share in the spinning 
 line, yet I found there was an evil which I had not 
 foreseen, and of much greater magnitude than 
 giving up the machine, viz., that I must always be 
 teaching green hands, employ none, or quit the 
 country ; it being believed that if I taught them 
 they knew their business well. So that for years 
 I had no choice left but to give up spinning, or 
 quit my native land. I cut up my spinnmg 
 
250 
 
 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 machine for other purposes^ On another occa- 
 sion, feeling most acutely the injustice which was 
 done him, he seized his axe and broke his carding 
 machine in pieces, saying, " They shall not have 
 this too." The axe used in this work of almost 
 justifiable destruction is preserved as a relic at the 
 present time." 
 
 In 1800, however, some gentlemen of Manches- 
 ter got up a subscription for Crompton, under the 
 impression that he had been hardly used. Before 
 it was completed the country was suffering from 
 the high price of food, owing to the failure of the 
 crops. This almost destroyed the scheme. Be- 
 tween four and five hundred pounds Avas all that 
 was handed over to enable Samuel to increase his 
 little manufacturing establishment. 
 
 It must not be assumed that his inventive 
 talents were exclusively devoted to the invention 
 of manufacturing machinery. About the year 
 1 803 he built an organ in his house in King Street, 
 Bolton, where he had removed. It was afterward 
 bought for the use of the New Jerusalem Church. 
 At this church Crompton took the entire charge 
 of conducting the singing. There are several 
 music books preserved that contain tunes composed 
 by him, and "pricked" by his own hand. The 
 choir thought so highly of his services that they 
 presented him with a silver cup upon which his 
 portrait was engraved ; he afterward made a 
 pentagraph, by which he added the profiles of all 
 the members of the choir. 
 
SAMTJEL CKOMPTON. 251 
 
 In 1811 Samuel commenced collecting informa- 
 tion of the results of his invention. He found, 
 after visiting the manufacturing districts of Eng- 
 land, Scotland, and Ireland, that there were be- 
 tween four and five millions of mule spindles in 
 use ; two-thirds of the steam power then employed 
 in cotton spinning was applied to turn the mules. 
 The value of the buildings and machinery em- 
 ployed in Samuel's invention was computed at be- 
 tween three and four millions sterling ; and, as a 
 proof that the invention had not thrown hands out 
 of employ, it was found that 70,000 persons were 
 directly engaged upon the mules, and 160,000 
 more in weaving the yarn thus spun. It was as- 
 certained that the aggregate number of persons 
 depending upon Crompton's invention was 660,000 ! 
 This was in 1811 : what must the number be in 
 18G0? When Samuel was in Scotland, the Glas- 
 gow manufacturers were desirous of giving him a 
 l^ublic dinner: their intention was frustrated by 
 his modesty. When the time came, to use his 
 own words: "rather than 'face up,' I first hid 
 myself, and then fairly bolted from the city.' 
 
 The result of the statistics was embodied in a 
 petition to Parliament ; a committee was empow- 
 ered to examine the allegations of the petition, 
 which reported favorably after examining various 
 witnesses and documents. The report to the 
 House concluded thus : " Your committee beg 
 leave to observe, that the petitioner appears to 
 them to be highly deserving of a national reward." 
 
252 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Samuel was m tlie lobby of the House of Com- 
 mons, on the 11th of May, conversing with Sir 
 Robert Peel and Mr. Blackburn on the subject, 
 when the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Per- 
 ceval, joined them. His first words were — "You 
 will be glad to know that we mean to propose 
 twenty thousand pounds for Crompton ; do you 
 think that will be satisfactory ?" Samuel did not 
 hear the reply, as, from motives of delicacy, he 
 walked away. In a moment after, before he had 
 left the lobby, he heard a rush of people, and cries 
 that Mr. Perceval had been shot. The assassin, 
 Bellingham, had completed his deadly purpose ; in 
 an instant England had lost a faithful servant, and 
 Samuel a valuable friend. On the 24th of June, 
 the House voted him five thousand pounds — a 
 large sum, unquestionably, and yet, taken into 
 consideration with the benefits the nation had de- 
 rived from the invention of the mule, it was a 
 miserable pittance. Crompton had proved before 
 the committee of the House of Commons that he 
 had contributed £300,000 per annum (about 
 $1,500,000,) to the revenue, solely from duty on 
 cotton wool imported into the country to be spun 
 on his machine! Mr. M'Culloch designated the 
 grant to Samuel *' as a pittance hardly adequate to 
 defray the expenses of the application." In the 
 sessions of 1826 or 1827, a second application was 
 made to Parliament, but was unsuccessful in pro- 
 curing another grant. So far as Samuel was in- 
 dividually concerned, this was not of much conse- 
 
SAMUEL CKOMPTOK. 253 
 
 qiience, as he died in his house in King Street, 
 Bolton, on the 26th of June, 1827, in his seventy- 
 first year. In the language of his biographer, 
 " Let us hope that his memory may yet be re- 
 vived, and his name worthily honored, not only in 
 his native parish, but reflected thence over the 
 Avorld, which his invention has done so much to 
 civilize ; and that history may yet inscribe the 
 neglected name of Samuel Crompton on one of 
 the brightest pages of her annals." 
 
•ihOMAS ciialmeks. 
 
 Thomas Chalmers was born at Anstruther, a 
 town on the coast of Fifeshire, Scotland, on the 
 lYth of March, 1V80. During his school-boy days 
 he exhibited Uttle or nothing of those qualities by 
 the exercise of which he afterward rose to dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 "By those of his school-fellows, few now in 
 number, who survive, Dr. Chalmers is remembered 
 as one of the idlest, strongest, merriest, and most 
 generous-hearted boys in Anstruther school. Little 
 time or attention would have been required from 
 him to prepare his daily lessons, so as to meet the 
 ordinary demands of the school-room ; for when 
 he did set himself to learn, not one of all his 
 school-fellows could do it at once so quickly and 
 so well. When the time came, however, for say- 
 ing them, the lessons were often found scarcely 
 half-learned — sometimes not learned at all. The 
 punishment inflicted in such cases was to send the 
 culprit into the coal-hole, to remain there in soli- 
 tude till the neglected duty was discharged. If 
 many of the boys could boast over Thomas Chal- 
 mns that Ihey were seldom er in the place of { un- 
 
. THOMAS CHALMEKS. 255 
 
 ishment, none could say that they got more quickly 
 out of it. Joyous, vigorous, and humorous, he 
 took his part in all the games of the playground 
 — ever ready to lead or to follow, when school-boy 
 expeditions were planned and executed ; and 
 wherever for fun or for frolic any little group of 
 the merry-hearted was gathered, his full, rich 
 laugh might be heard rising amid their shouts of 
 glee." 
 
 In 1V91 he became a student in the United Col- 
 lege of St. Andrews. His preliminary education, 
 however, both in English and Latin, was so defec- 
 tive, that he could not obtain any great profit from 
 the learned prelections of the professors whom it 
 was his duty to attend. This deficiency in his 
 early education, so far as it referred to classical 
 learning, was never, save in a sHght degree, re- 
 medied ; for, although he afterward attained con- 
 siderable mathematical skill, he could never be 
 called a Latin or a Greek scholar. His two first 
 sessions at the university seem to have been 
 spent without any serious eflbrts to improve him- 
 self But what could be expected from a boy of 
 twelve or thirteen ? 
 
 '* He was at that time," says one of his earliest 
 companions, " very young, and volatile, and boyish, 
 and idle in his habits, and like the rest of us in 
 those days, but ill prepared by previous education 
 for reaping the full benefit of a college course. I 
 think that during the first two sessions a great 
 part of his time must have been occuj^ied (as mine 
 
256 FAMOUS BOYS. . 
 
 was) in boyish amxisemeiits, such as golf, football, 
 and particularly handball, in which latter he was 
 remarkably expert, owing to his being left-handed. 
 I remember that he made no distinguished pro- 
 gress in his education during these two sessions." 
 
 In 1795 he was enrolled as a Student of Divi- 
 nity. The love of boyish amusements, which, in 
 common with other lads of his age, he had hereto- 
 fore exhibited, had already given way before the 
 rapid development of his intellectual powers, and 
 he had successfully devoted himself, under the 
 powerful impulse, to the study of mathematics. 
 The mental vigor thus awakened into action, he 
 now applied to the study of divinity. His earliest 
 conceptions on this subject, however, were con- 
 fined to such views of the Deity as are suggested 
 by the study of Natural Theology. But those 
 conceptions were extremely vivid and intense. 
 " I remember," he himself said, " when a student 
 of divinity, and long ere I could relish evangeli- 
 cal sentiment, I spent nearly a twelvemonth in a 
 sort of mental elysium, and the one idea which 
 ministered to my soul all its rapture was the mag- 
 nificence of the Godhead, and the universal sub- 
 ordination of all things to the one great purpose 
 for which He evolved and was supporting creation. 
 I should like to be so inspired over again, but with 
 such a view of the Deity as coalesced and was in 
 harmony with the doctrine of the New Testa- 
 ment." 
 
 His progress at that period was extremely 
 
THOMAS CHALMERS. 267 
 
 rapid ; and although when he first entered the 
 university his knowledge of the rudiments even 
 of English composition was very imperfect, he 
 now, by dint of perseverance, mastered every dif- 
 ficulty, and acquired a great command over the 
 language. His public duties showed the benefit 
 he thus secured, inasmuch as he was able to em- 
 ploy a suitable vehicle for those vivid conceptions 
 which it was the character of his intellect to form. 
 " I remember still," says one of his friends, " after 
 the lapse of fifty-two years, the powerful impres- 
 sion made by his prayers in the Public Hall, to 
 which the people of St. Andrews flocked when 
 they knew that Chalmers was to pray, v The 
 wonderful flow of eloquent, vivid, ardent descrip- 
 tion of the attributes and works of God, and still 
 more, perhaps, the astonishing harrowing delinea- 
 tion of the miseries, the horrid cruelties, immo- 
 ralities, and abominations inseparable from war, 
 which always came in more or less in connection 
 with the bloody warfare in which we were en- 
 gaged with France, called forth the wonderment 
 of the hearers. He was then only sixteen years 
 of age, yet he showed a taste and capacity for 
 composition of the most glowing and eloquent 
 kind. Even then, his style was very much the 
 same as at the period when he attracted so much 
 notice, and made such powerful impression in the 
 pulpit and by the press." 
 
 After completing the course of study prescribed 
 by the Church of Scotland, Chalmers obtained 
 17 
 
25^ 
 
 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 license as a preacher of the Gospel on the 31st 
 of July, 1 799. About a month afterwrird he made 
 his first aopearance as a preacher in a chapel in 
 Wigan, and on the Sunday following he delivered 
 the same discourse in Liverpool. On these occa- 
 sions he was accompanied by his brother James, 
 who, in a letter referring to the occasion, thus ex- 
 presses himself: — " His mode of delivery is ex- 
 pressive, his language beautiful, and his arguments 
 very forcible and strong. His sermon contained a 
 due mixture of the doctrinal and practical parts of 
 religion,; but I think it inclined most to the latter. 
 The subject, however, required it. It is the opinion 
 of those who pretend to be judges, that he will 
 shine in the pulpit, but as yet he is rather awkward 
 in his appearance. In October, the same year, he 
 established himself in the house of a relative in 
 Edinburgh, and pursued with great ardor his fix- 
 vorite studies of mathematics and philosophy. In 
 July, 1801, however, he became assistant to the 
 Rev. Mr. Elliott, minister of Cavers, but in No- 
 vember in the same year was elected by the Prin- 
 cipal and Professors of the University of St. An- 
 drews to the living of Kilmany. At the same 
 period he was appointed assistant to the Professor 
 of Mathematics in the University of St. Andrews. 
 On entering upon his parochial charge at Kil- 
 many, Chalmers resolved, if possible, to retain the 
 Mathematical Assistantship at St. Andrews, hold- 
 ing out, as it did, a prospect of distinction in a de- 
 partment of learning to which he was devoted. He 
 
THOMAS CHALMERS. 250 
 
 found himself, however, summarily dismissed on 
 the charge of inefficiency as a teacher. This treat- 
 ment, to one of his ardent temperament, must have 
 been extremely irritating; and in order to dis- 
 prove the accusation, he opened classes in St. An- 
 drews for mathematics and chemistry, and met, 
 notwithstanding considerable opposition, a great 
 measure of success. The chemical lectures he af- 
 terward delivered in his own parish and at Cupar. 
 He remained about eleven years at Kilmany, en- 
 gaging with characteristic energy in his pastoral 
 duties, and occupying himself in a variety of lite- 
 rary undertakings. In 1814, he was chosen min- 
 ister of the Tron Church, Glasgow. Here he had 
 a wide field on which to carry out all his enter- 
 prises of Christian benevolence. And he speedily 
 rose to an unparalleled degree of popularity in con- 
 sequence of the extraordinary eloquence and power 
 which in his public services he displayed. His 
 "Astronomical Discourses" were at this time de- 
 livered, and excited universal admiration. He 
 had at this period an unquestionable superiority 
 over all other preachers ; and that, too, although 
 his defects were such as rhetoricians consider in- 
 compatible with oratorical excellence. His man- 
 ner was awkward, his voice unmusical, his pronun- 
 ciation barbarous in the extreme; yet such was 
 the intellectual and moral energy — such the earn- 
 estness and profound sincerity that pervaded all 
 he uttered, that any defect was more than coun- 
 terbalanced. 
 
260 FAI^IOUS BOYS. 
 
 In 1818 Dr. Chalmers was elected minister of 
 St. John's, in Glasgow. This church, which had 
 been recently built, was considerably larger than 
 the Tron Church, and the parish in which it was 
 placed afforded immense scope for his labors. In 
 this sphere of exertion he continued several years, 
 carrying out, with his usual energy and perseve- 
 rance, a variety of plans of usefulness, devoting al- 
 most his whole attention to the claims of the hum- 
 bler classes, which in a densely-peopled city are 
 too often neglected. 
 
 In 1823 he was chosen Professor of Moral Philo- 
 sophy in the University of St. Andrews. After 
 discharging the duties of his professorship at St. 
 Andrews for four years, he was appointed to the 
 Chair of Divinity in the University of Edinburgh, 
 and commenced his duties in November, 1828. 
 
 Without any attempt to present the reader with 
 the numerous particulars which unite to make up 
 his history from the period of his appointment as 
 Professor of Divinity, we shall present them with 
 a passage from the writings of Mr. Gilfillan : " We 
 linger as we trace over in thought the leading in- 
 cidents of his well-known story. We see the big- 
 headed, warm-hearted, burly boy, playing upon the 
 beach at Anstruther, and seeming like a gleam of 
 early sunshine upon that coldest of all coasts. We 
 follow him, as he strides along with large, hopeful, 
 awkward steps to the gate of St. Andrews. We 
 see him, a second Dominie Sampson, in his tutor's 
 garret at Arbroath, in the midst of a proud and 
 
THOMAS CHALMERS. 261 
 
 pompous ftimily — liimself as proud, though not so 
 pompous as they. We follow him next to the 
 peaceful manse of Kilmany, standing amid its green 
 woods and hills, in a very nook of the land, whence 
 he emerges, now to St. Andrews, to battle with 
 the stolid and slow-moving professors of that day ; 
 now to Dundee, to buy materials for chemical re- 
 search (on one occasion setting himself on fire with 
 some combustible substance, and requiring to run 
 to a farmhouse to get himself put out !) ; now to 
 the woods and hills around to botanise ; and now 
 to Edinburgh to attend the General Assembly, and 
 give earnest of those great oratorical powers which 
 were afterward to astonish the Church and the 
 world. With solemn awe we stand by his bedside 
 during that long, mysterious illness, which brought 
 him to himself, and taught him that religion was a 
 reality, as profound as sin, sickness, and death. We 
 mark him, then, rising up from his couch, like an 
 eagle newly bathed — like a giant refreshed — and 
 commencing that course of evangelical teaching 
 and action only to be terminated in the grave. We 
 pursue him to Glasgow, and see him sitting down 
 in a plain house in Sauchiehall Road, and proceed- 
 ing to write sermons which are to strike that city 
 like a planet, and make him the real king of the 
 West. We mark him, next, somewhat worn and 
 wearied, returning to his alma mater^ to resume 
 his old games of golf on the Links, his old baths in 
 the Bay, and to give an impetus, which has never 
 yet entirely subsided, to that grass-grown city of 
 
or^'>, 
 
 FAMOUS EOYS. 
 
 Rutherford and Halyburton. ISText we see him 
 bursting hke a shell this narrow confine, and soar- 
 ing away to ' stately Edinburgh, throned on crags,' 
 to become there a principality and a power among 
 many, and to give stimulus and inspiration to hosts 
 of young aspirants. What divine of the age, on 
 the whole, can we name with Chalmers ? Horsley 
 was, perhaps, an abler man, but where the moral 
 grandeur ? Hall had the moral grandeur, and a 
 far more cultivated mind ; Foster had a sterner, 
 loftier, and richer genius ; but where, in either, the 
 seraphic ardor, activity, and energy of Christian 
 character possessed by Chalmers ? Irving, as an 
 orator, had more artistic skill, and, at the same 
 time, his blood was warm with a more volcanic 
 and poetic fire ; but he was only a brilliant frag- 
 ment, not a whole^he was a meteor to a star — a 
 comet to a sun — a Vesuvius, peaked, blue, crowned 
 with fire, to a domed Mont Blanc. Chalmers 
 stood alone ; and centuries may elapse ere the 
 church shall see — and when did she ever more 
 need to see ? — another such spirit as he ?" 
 
 Dr. Chalmers died on the night of the 30th May, 
 1 847. He had recently returned from London, and 
 apparently in his usual good health. " During the 
 whole of the evening, as if he had kept his bright- 
 est smiles and fondest utterances to the last, and 
 for his own, he was peculiarly bland and benignant. 
 ' I had seen him frequently,' says Mr. Gemmel, ' at 
 Fairlie, and in his most happy moods, but I never 
 saw him happier. Christian benevolence beamed 
 
THOMAS CHALMERS. 263 
 
 from his countenance, sparkled in his eye, and 
 played upon his lips.' Immediately after prayers 
 he withdrew, and bidding his family remember 
 that they must be early to-morrow, he waved his 
 hand, saying, ' A general good-night.' The house- 
 keeper, who had been long in the family, knocked 
 next morning at the door of Dr. Chalmers' room, 
 but received no answer. Concluding that he was 
 asleep, and unwilling to disturb him, she waited 
 till another party called with a second message ; 
 she then entered the room — it was in darkness ; 
 she spoke, but there was no response. At last she 
 threw open the window-shutters, and drew aside 
 the curtains of the bed. He sat there, half erect, 
 his head reclining gently on the pillow ; the ex- 
 pression of his countenance that of fixed and ma- 
 jestic repose. She took his hand — she touched 
 his brow ; he had been dead for hours : very 
 shortly after that parting salute to his family, he 
 had entered the eternal world. It must have been 
 wholly without pain or conflict. The expression 
 of the face, undisturbed by a single trace of suffer- 
 ing, the position of the body so easy that the least 
 struggle would have disturbed it, the very posture 
 of arms and hands and fingers known to his family 
 as that into which they fell naturally in the mo- 
 ments of entii'e repose — conspired to show, that, 
 saved all strife with the last enemy, his spirit had 
 passed to its place of blessedness and glory in the 
 heavens." 
 
JACQUES LAFFITTE, 
 
 OR A rORTITNE IN A PIN. 
 
 In the year 1788, a young man, about the age 
 of twenty-one, arrived in Paris. He had the ap- 
 pearance of a countryman, and was evidently poor. 
 Having traveled all night, he looked wan and 
 jaded. The truth is, he had got no breakfast, and 
 one would have thought that a supply of meat 
 would have been his first object on his arrival; 
 but he had not a single sou to purchase for him- 
 self a dinner, having arrived penniless, with noth- 
 ing to trust to but God, and a letter of introduc- 
 tion to a celebrated banker. As soon as might be, 
 he sought out, after many inquiries, the residence 
 of this gentleman, and we may very easily sup- 
 pose that his heart beat pretty loudly when he 
 presented his letter to the great man, for upon 
 the issue of that alone all his hopes of life de- 
 pended. Then how he scanned the face of the 
 banker as the eye of the latter glided swiftly and 
 carelessly along the lines till he came to the ter- 
 mination. The letter was deliberately folded up, 
 and out came the answer : that he had already four 
 
JACQUES LAFFITTE. 265 
 
 or five clerks in his office too many, and that he 
 had no room for a new one. 
 
 The young man received this answer in dejected 
 silence, and departed — to go he knew not whither, 
 but not, probably without leaving some impression 
 on the mind of the banker, whose eye followed 
 him as he passed through the court-yard of the 
 hotel. Except for this lingering look, which, 
 after all, might have been the result of idleness or 
 vacuity, the simple scene was terminated ; but 
 that look, whatever might have been its object, 
 was suddenly changed into attention as he saw 
 the discarded youth stoop and pick up a small 
 object from the ground, and stick it into the 
 sleeve of his coat. It must be a pin. What then? 
 Could any thing be more common or less worthy 
 of observation than for a poor young man to pick 
 up a pin ? But the banker took another view of 
 the apparently trifling incident — no other, indeed, 
 than that it was one of those instinctive signs 
 which indicate original tendencies of disposition 
 and character ; in short, he argued from it a love 
 of care and economy. He called the young man 
 back, and engaged him to serve in a humble capa- 
 city in his large banking establishment. 
 
 The young man was Jacques Laffitte, the son of 
 a poor carpenter in Bayonne, who had a family 
 of ten children to support by his industry. The 
 banker was Monsieur Perregeaux, one of the ablest 
 financiers and richest citizens of Paris. The French 
 people love to recount this little story, and no 
 
FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 doubt it deserves to be told again and again ; but 
 we are to remember at the same time that Jacques 
 Laffitte, in spite of his habihments, carried a good 
 letter of introduction from Nature, who has small 
 regard to the distinctions of rank or caste. Of a 
 good figure, with a handsome countenance, an air 
 of independence and freedom which even his hope- 
 less abjectness on that eventful day could not 
 altogether suppress, a vivid expression and a frank 
 presentation, Jacques was calculated to leave an 
 impression on such a man as Perregeaux sufficient 
 to produce that attention which detected the little 
 act of economy. Nor was it long ere the master 
 observed in the pupil the real gifts which were 
 to justify his appointment, and the consciousness 
 of which probably prompted the original applica- 
 tion for employment of this peculiar kind — for we 
 may now mention that Jacques Laffitte had no 
 education except what he had picked up himself, 
 and all he had done by way of apprenticeship in 
 his native place, was acting as errand boy in the 
 office of a notary. It was no mere slavish desire 
 to become rich for the sake of riches that formed 
 the spring of action in the mind of the young 
 aspirant, nor could he have foreseen the calls that 
 would be made on any public spirit or philanthroi^y 
 he might possess ; he simply felt that he was gifted 
 with powers of a kind and to an extent known 
 only to himself, and this consciousness brought out 
 the practical effects. 
 Installed in his new office, Jacques, as we have 
 
JACQT3ES LAFFITTE. 267 
 
 said, soon discovered to his master that he was 
 sonietiiing more than one who could save by atten- 
 tion to such small things as pins, or rather that his 
 real powers were those generally considered, 
 though often untruly, as being unfavorable to rigid 
 economy. To his recommendation of freedom and 
 frankness of manner, he joined a thorough applica- 
 tion to what he had to do, and this application was 
 always under the rule of a method, which, again, 
 was the result, if not the expression, of a habit of 
 governing his thoughts. He possessed, also, that 
 gift not always combined with self-reliance — a 
 keen and ready aptitude to catch and apply the 
 profitable ideas of others, and thus Perregeaux 
 found in him not only a good methodical thinker, 
 but also an excellent worker out of his own schemes. 
 Jacques was very soon raised to the charge of 
 the bank books. Every day he acquired more and 
 more the confidence of his master, as every day 
 brought out more and more his integrity and 
 ability. From the books he was in due time raised 
 to the responsible ofiice of cashier. By and by 
 he was assumed as a partner, and, at length, when 
 Perregeaux died, he was left as his executor and 
 successor. This act was the more honorable to 
 him, that the old banker left a son, whose only 
 duty or rather privilege it was to draw a revenue 
 from the house of Laftitte & Co., the entire charge 
 of which devolved on the proved man who owed 
 his present position in life to a very small begin- 
 ning — the picking up of a pin. 
 
268 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 It is not very well known how Perregeaux's 
 bank rode through the terrible storm of the Re- 
 volution, but it is not left for conjecture that from 
 the time when Laffitte became master of the estab- 
 lishment, he continued to acquire reputation as a 
 skilful financier. In 1809 he was appointed director 
 of the Bank of France, still retaining the charge 
 of his own establishment. A few years later he 
 became Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce of the 
 Seine, and subsequently he was elected to the high 
 office of President of the Chamber of Commerce. 
 At the fall of the empire in 1814, he was appoint- 
 ed by the Provisional Government, Governor of 
 the Bank of France, on which last occasion he 
 gave one of those noble instances of his generosity 
 of which we shall learn more, by refusing to ac- 
 cept the emoluments attached to the office, amount- 
 ing to nearly a hundred thousand francs. 
 
 Itj is at this point of his history that we are 
 first called upon to notice the peculiar and high- 
 minded policy by which the conduct of this extra- 
 ordinary man was regulated. He had, by deep 
 thought, arrived at the conclusion that it was not 
 only possible, but necessary, that the national 
 banking establishment of France should enjoy an 
 existence and subserve a management altogether 
 independent of changes of dynasty. He seems 
 to have viewed it as the Capitol by which the 
 national honor and the public safety could be 
 preserved. He had been a banker amidst the 
 lawless exactions of the Revolution, without hav- 
 
JACQUES LAFFITTE. 269 
 
 ing been drawn into the vortex of politics, or 
 having suffered from the conflicts of impassioned, 
 if not insane men. He had held the office of Di- 
 rector of the National Bank under Napoleon with- 
 out succumbing to imperial dictation, and the con- 
 fidence of the new power called " the Provisional 
 Government" was extended to him simply upon 
 the grounds of integrity and talent, and altogether 
 independent of political sentiments. In short, it 
 came to be considered, that while Jacques Laffitte 
 remained, the Bank of France could never go 
 down. Nor was this notion without something to 
 justify it. When the Allies entered Paris, the 
 entire capital of the public treasury was seized for 
 a contribution of war; the municipal exchequer 
 was empty ; the bank was menaced ; and Laffitte, 
 reduced to extremities, saw no relief but in a 
 great national subscription. We may guess how 
 low the public spirit had declined when we are 
 told that Laffitte himself was the only subscriber 
 — not a name followed his own. 
 
 Due efforts were in the meantime made to keep 
 up the credit of the bank. When Napoleon re- 
 turned from the Island of Elba, Louis XVIII. had 
 recourse to the governor for a sum of many mil- 
 lions. We have no account of the manner by 
 which this demand was met, but met it was, and 
 that, too, without any effort to prevent the same 
 fertile financier from accommodating the needy 
 Duke of Orleans with a million and six hundred 
 thousand francs. 
 
270 FAJiprS BOYS. 
 
 We know that Laffitte was a Liberal in a very- 
 extended sense, and also a very determined and 
 uncompromising one ; yet he contrived to retain 
 the confidence, if not the affection, of the different 
 powers as they came and went. 
 
 We find him next in the Chamber of Represen- 
 tatives during the Hundred Days ; but though he 
 abstained from all active part in the deliberations, 
 this did not prevent Napoleon from remitting to 
 him, after the battle of Waterloo, a sum of five 
 millions in gold, which Laffitte could easily get 
 passed to England or America for behoof of the 
 exiled monarch. It is well known that Kapoleon 
 bequeathed by his testament the interest which 
 had accrued upon this immense sum to him who 
 had been the means of preserving it ; but it is not 
 so well known that Laffitte rejected the gift upon 
 the ground that the sum was not placed with him 
 upon the condition of bearing interest. 
 
 The example here given was an act of munifi- 
 cence due to one whom he had served, without, 
 perhaps, sharing the regret of the nation at the 
 fall of their chief ; but he was again to be called 
 upon by the Provisional Government, on grounds 
 of public interest. On the entry of the Allies 
 after the battle of Waterloo, the remnant of the 
 Imperial army refused to disband until they were 
 paid their arrears. The public treasury was again 
 empty, and the Provisional Government had no 
 alternative but to appeal once more to the head of 
 the Bank, with the hinted threat of an enforced 
 
JACQUES LAFFITTE. 271 
 
 loan. Laffitte had his reasons for not risking a 
 meeting of the Council, and preferred to advance 
 on his own responsibility no less a sum than two 
 millions. Even here his efforts for the public 
 safety were not allowed to slumber for more than 
 a few days, for Blucher immediately followed with 
 a demand for six hundred thousand within twenty- 
 four hours. The period passed ; no rich Royalists 
 came to the rescue, though the General threatened 
 to fire the Hotel de Ville, and it was reserved for 
 Lafiitte to relieve the position by a guarantee for 
 the money, which was raised by subscription. 
 
 Amidst these fluctuating acts of munificence — 
 on a scale almost unprecedented — in favor of one 
 dynasty and of another — one monarch who was 
 falling or one who was rising — Lafiitte never 
 swerved from the interests of his country or his 
 love of liberty. Elected Deputy of Paris in 1816, 
 he did not hesitate to take his seat on the benches 
 of the Opposition, yet he never sought the tribune 
 except when he required to speak on his favorite 
 subject of finance, and such was the confidence 
 reposed in him 'even by Louis, against whose 
 policy and Ministers he had arrayed himself, that 
 he was requested to form one of the Commission 
 appointed to inquire into the causes of the poverty 
 of the Exchequer. 
 
 From this time forth Lafiitte was a " friendly 
 opponent" of the elder branch of the Bourbons ; 
 still, as formerly, when pressing exigencies oc- 
 curred, acting the part of a friend to his country 
 
272 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 by relieving the constituted government of its 
 difficulties, while he boldly blamed it for the follies 
 which brought them on. A crisis on the Exchange 
 in 1818 again threatened disastrous consequences, 
 which were averted solely by the purchase on the 
 part of Laffitte of four hundred thousand francs 
 of Rentes — a means whereby he preserved the 
 peace of the kingdom, if not the permanency of 
 the dynasty with the ruling policy of which his 
 love of liberty was in stern conflict. And still, 
 amidst all these disbursements, he persevered in 
 rejecting, in 1822, the princely remuneration at- 
 tached to the governorship of the Bank. 
 
 The early feeling of dissatisfaction with which 
 Laffitte viewed the acts of the Government were 
 destined to be too early justified by the famous 
 encroachments made upon the Charter granted to 
 the people on the reinstatement of the old dynasty. 
 His cherished theory, over which he had long 
 brooded, was to reduce the charges on the pubhc 
 by reducing the expenditure of the State, and with 
 lively chagrin he witnessed a course of court 
 tactics the very reverse. These encroachments, 
 w^hich are now matter of familiar history, were 
 gradually progressing from one small step to a 
 greater, when, in 1827, the dissolution of the 
 National Guard, the boldest proceeding yet at- 
 tempted, roused him suddenly to the resolution 
 of proposing an impeachment of the Ministers of 
 the Crown. The Opposition were proud of their 
 leader. In the words of M. de Lomenie, " placed 
 
JACQUES LAFFITTE, 273 
 
 in the vanguard of the defenders of the Charter 
 — popular as well by his opinions as by his gener- 
 osity, the opulent banker sees himself surrounded 
 by all the notabilities of the press and the tribune." 
 This proposal of an impeachment brought Laf- 
 fitte still more prominently forward as a defender 
 of the people against the unscrupulous encroach- 
 ments of Charles ; and thus claimed by his coun- 
 trymen, it is generally supposed that it was to con- 
 firm their faith in his friendship and participation 
 that he consented to give his daughter in* marriage 
 to the eldest son of Marshal Ney, the Prince of 
 Moskowa. It was about this time that he began 
 to view the state of public affairs as verging 
 toward a crisis ; and the love of his country, 
 which, from his first entry into Paris, had never 
 ceased to occupy his thoughts, inspired him with 
 painful solicitude for the issue of such an event as 
 the downfall of the older branch of the Bourbons. 
 No effort could banish from his mind the convic- 
 tion that that event was imminent. Adopting his 
 vaticinations as verified truths, he began to cast 
 about his thoughts in every direction for some 
 means of salvation from a repetition of that fright- 
 ful anarchy of which he had been an early witness, 
 and the elements of which he knew still slumbered 
 in many minds. Nor could he find any resting- 
 place for his hopes, except in the cause, not yet 
 even surmised, of the Duke of Orleans, whose 
 liberal sentiments harmonized with his own. Alas I 
 how little did he know with what adverse fortunes 
 18 
 
274 FAMOTJS BOYS. 
 
 these noble hopes for his country's welfare were 
 to be linked by the decrees of fate. He was not 
 a man to hesitate on the hovering advent of a 
 crisis ; but his boldness was still tempered by 
 prudence, and the first whisper of his sentiments 
 was the expression of a purpose from which no 
 man could turn him. He found willing proselytes, 
 and encountered terrible foes ; but his secret 
 cause progressed, till the well-known events of 
 July, 1830, brought it to a crisis. The dreaded 
 ordinances were issued by the Government, the 
 protest of the Deputies signed, and the order for 
 their arrest had arrived, when Laffitte, with Lobau, 
 Gerard, Maguin, and Casimir Perier, repaired to 
 the palace. The issue is known to all modern 
 readers. The palace of the* Duke of Orleans now 
 became the rendezvous of a general insurrection ; 
 and when D'Argout arrived with the intimation 
 that the ordinances were recalled by the king, 
 Laffitte was the man who called out, " It is too 
 late ; there is no longer a Charles the Tenth." At 
 the same time a deputation, proposed by Laffitte, 
 was sent to the Duke of Orleans, offering him the 
 Lieutenancy of the kingdom. In proceeding with 
 this deputation, it is said that Laffitte got his feet 
 wounded by scrambling over a barricade. The 
 Duke perceived the wound. "Never mind my 
 feet," said Laffitte; "look to my hands; there is 
 a crown in them." 
 
 It was truly Laffitte who achieved for Louis 
 Philippe the crown of France, and it was as truly 
 
JACQUES LAFJbTTTE. 275 
 
 that patriotic act which achieved the fall and ruin 
 of this extraordinary man. So long as he re- 
 mained within the sphere of his peculiar genius, 
 he was successful both for himself and his country 
 in almost every enterprise in which he engaged. 
 When he became a politician of France, with 
 mediatorial views calculated to effect a fusion be- 
 tween the fiery spirits of republicanism and legiti- 
 macy, he cast his fortunes into the common fate 
 of French moderation. Li an evil hour he ac- 
 cepted the Presidency of the Council, and formed 
 the ministry of the 3d November, but to his dis- 
 appointment he foimd his measures rejected by one 
 side of the house, and not heartily accepted by 
 the other. He was deserted, too, by those men 
 who had stood by his side in the hottest hours 
 of the revolution of July, and upon whom he cal- 
 culated with a confidence equal to what he reposed 
 in his o^\^l faith. Lafayette renounced the com- 
 mand of the National Guards. The excitement 
 consequent upon a new revolution had not abated, 
 and failures on every hand aggravated the position 
 by producing fears of another movement on the 
 part of the republicans. Laffitte had for once 
 committed a mistake, and no sooner did he satisfy 
 himself of the difficulties by which he was sur- 
 rounded on all hands than he resolved to recede. 
 On the 13th of March, 1831, he was succeeded by 
 Casimir Ferier. 
 
 But the man was ruined. The revolution of 
 July had produced an unfavorable effect upon his 
 
276 FA^lOUS BOYS. 
 
 credit. His entry on public affairs had compelled 
 him to abandon the direction of his own banking- 
 house, and a losing balance-sheet soon showed the 
 absence of the great director. In July he had 
 put his money-box at the command of the new 
 Government, composed in some instances of men 
 whose capital lay in politics rather than money, 
 and so it happened that Laffitte's coffers were rifled 
 with all the avidity of political adventurers. On 
 a sudden he found himself encompassed by a legion 
 of creditors. Among the rest was the Bank of 
 France, of which he had been so long the tutelary 
 genius, and to which he now owed thirteen mil- 
 lions, borrowed for no other purpose than the good 
 of his country. To liquidate a remnant of this 
 last claim, after all his other creditors had been 
 satisfied by the sale of his estates — one of which, 
 the Forest of Breteuil, he sold to Louis Philippe 
 for ten millions — he proposed to dispose of his 
 hotel in Paris, and his share in the business of his 
 bank ; but a national subscription, dictated by so 
 many splendid reminiscences of the proprietor, 
 saved from the wreck this grand residence, which 
 he had long before opened to concerts and public 
 balls. In this subscription we find among other 
 names that of Napoleon III. for six hundred francs. 
 The amount soon reached four hundred thousand 
 francs. By the year 1836, he had contrived to 
 satisfy every claim against him, and there re- 
 mained to him who had wielded millions as if 
 they had been hundreds only a few thousands. 
 
JACQUKR LAFriTTE. 277 
 
 We may add that M. Goiiiii succeeded him in the 
 direction of his bank, which fell disastrously in 
 the revolution of 1848. Laffitte had good reason 
 for the exclamation which he made from the 
 tribune : " I ask pardon of God and man for the 
 part I took in the revolution of July." 
 
 With this extreme position of the aflairs of the 
 great banker, the interest in his life almost ceases. 
 His subsequent efforts to redeem his pecuniary 
 elevation failed on all hands ; but the sterling 
 worth and love of freedom for which he had been 
 60 long distinguished, secured for him, without 
 stint or exception, the admiration and gratitude 
 of France. 
 
 It has been truly said of him that he was a man 
 whom unbounded wealth had no power to make 
 haughty, nor comparative poverty any influence to 
 make mean. It is recounted by M. Arago that he 
 always retained the just pride of his humble origin. 
 We may give an instance : his grand-daughter 
 said to him one day that her companions in the 
 boarding-house called her princess, and she was 
 under great difiiculty to know why the grand-pa 
 of a princess was not a prince. Tell them, replied 
 Lafiittc, that I am a prince du Habot. However 
 enigmatical this answ er might appear, as well to 
 the princess as her companions, it is sufficiently 
 intelligible to those who know that he had used 
 the carpenter's plane before he took up the pen of 
 the financier. 
 
 Laffitte died suddenly of an affection of the 
 
278 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 lungs. More than twenty thousand people attend- 
 ed his funeral. It is said by M. Arago that thei-e 
 were found in his repositories after his death no 
 fewer than seven thousand two hundred entries on 
 slips of paper, containing the heads of as many 
 speculations, which were destined to be inter- 
 rupted. 
 
AUDUBO]^. 
 
 John James Audubon, the celebrated ornithol- 
 ogist, was born in the year 1776, on a plantation 
 in Louisiana, then a colony of France. His father 
 was an officer in the French navy, and had settled 
 in that section to enjoy a dignified leisure. His 
 circumstances were opulent, his habits retired, and 
 his intellect of high cultivation. He early di- 
 rected the attention of his son to those natural 
 objects in the study of which the youthful Audu- 
 bon afterward became so distinguished. Almost 
 from infancy the lad took a lively interest in the 
 winged and feathered tribes. A love of birds is 
 natural to the hearts of children, but Audubon's 
 childish affection for them was of no ordinary 
 kind. His interest in them was so absorbing that 
 with an uninstructed skill he began to draw and 
 color them in order that their graceful forms might 
 never be absent from his eyes. 
 
 At the age of fifteen the young ornithologist 
 was sent to Paris to complete his education. He 
 remained in Paris nearly three years, when he re- 
 turned, glad to escape from studies which interest- 
 
280 FAMOIJS BOYS. 
 
 ed him but little, to resume his favorite pursuit. 
 His passion was for the fields, woods, and rivers ; 
 he hated the town, with its crowd and noise ; the 
 world which he panted to enjoy was in the solitary 
 haunts of warbling friends — a world replete with 
 a life and animation more fascinating to him than 
 the gayest scenes of the gayest city in the world. 
 In the contemplation of birds, their manners, cus- 
 toms, habits, and language, he found complete 
 employment for all his faculties — food for his 
 thoughts, recreation for his mind, and subjects for 
 his pen and pencil. 
 
 Soon after his return to America his father gave 
 him a farm on the banks of the Schuylkill, in Penn- 
 sylvania, where his taste for his favorite science 
 strengthened and developed itself with time and 
 study. 
 
 " His researches were prosecuted with unabated 
 zeal and ardor, and his skill in drawing improved 
 by practice. His devotion to ornithology prompted 
 him to make excursions fxr and wide over the 
 country. Arrayed in a coarse leathern dress, 
 armed with a sure rifle, and provided with a knap- 
 sack containing sketching and coloring materials, 
 he roamed for days, sometimes even for months at 
 a time in quest of animals to study and portray. 
 His eagerness was only equalled by his patience; 
 he would watch for hours among canes to see some 
 plumed songstress feeding her young ; he would 
 climb precipitous mountains to mark the king of 
 birds hovering over its nest, secure amid the 
 
AUDUBON. 281 
 
 strength of rocks. lie braved the dreadful perils 
 of rushing tides, and the merciless bowie-knife of 
 the lurking Indian, in order to gratify his taste 
 and add to his knowledge ; and in pursuit of his 
 object he exhibited at once the fresh soul of a 
 child and the courageous spirit of a hero. His 
 wanderings were among unfrequented solitudes, 
 solitary w\aterfalls, and pathless groves ; and thus 
 despising hunger, fatigue, and danger, he formed 
 by lonely study that intimate acquaintance with 
 the shapes and plumages of the birds of the air, 
 which he afterward displayed to the busy world 
 in his brilliant, interesting, and entertaining vol- 
 umes." 
 
 Notwithstanding his devotion to science, he was 
 early married, fortunately to a woman who sympa- 
 thised with his tastes. In 1809 he removed to a 
 farm in Kentucky, near Louisville, and two years 
 later moved further up the Ohio, on the verge of 
 the wilderness, and then commenced in earnest 
 that nomadic life in the prosecution of his great 
 study, Avhich marked him a true hero. With gun, 
 knapsack, and drawing materials, he traversed the 
 dark forests and pestiferous fens, sleeping beneath 
 the broad canopy of heaven, procuring food with 
 his rifle, and undergoing day after day great 
 fatigues and privations. For years he thus wan- 
 dered from the shores of the Gulf of Mexico to the 
 coasts of Labrador, impelled to his labors ap- 
 parently byjio other motive than the gratification 
 of a great controlling passion. It was not, it is 
 
2S2 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 said, until after an interview with Charles Lucien 
 Bonaparte, in 1824, that Audubon thought of pub- 
 lishing the results of his labors. Thus far his 
 mature life had been devoted to the worship of 
 nature, lost to himself in the excess of his dehght 
 in the devotion. Now he experienced new sensa- 
 tions; he began to think of fame. He made 
 another tour of eighteen months' duration, and in 
 1826 sailed for England, to make arrangements for 
 publishing his drawings and descriptive notices. 
 His portraits of birds were of life-size, and they 
 produced a marked sensation among artists and 
 literary men in Great Britain. Subscriptions to 
 his work, amounting to about eighty thousand 
 dollars, were speedily obtained. In 1830, the first 
 volume of his great work was issued — a work 
 which the celebrated naturalist, Cuvier, pro- 
 nounced "the most gigantic and most magnificent 
 monument that has ever been erected to nature." 
 Four volumes comj^leted the work, the last of 
 which appeared about six years after the issue of 
 the first. 
 
 Not content with the accomplishment of this 
 vast undertaking, at the age of sixty years Mr. 
 Audubon again went into the forests and moun- 
 tains to explore another department of natural 
 history. The result of this enterprise, which was 
 attended with immense toil and continual hard- 
 ships, was his Quadompeds of America^ second only 
 to his great work on the Birds of America. 
 
 In 1839 Mr. Audubon made his residence on the 
 
AUDUBON. 283 
 
 banks of the Hudson, near the city of New York, 
 where he Hved until the time of his death, which 
 occurred in his seventy-third year, on the 27th of 
 Januaryj 1851. 
 
WILLIAM JAY. 
 
 William Jay was a beardless boy when he 
 commenced his career : we learn this from an an- 
 ecdote related by himself in his autobiography. 
 He had been preaching at Melksham on the Sun- 
 day ; on the following morning he called upon an 
 old gentleman from London, a very wise man in 
 his own opinion. He did not receive Jay very 
 courteously, but said rudely, he had no notion of 
 beardless boys being employed as preachers. 
 "Pray, sir," said Jay, "does not Paul say to 
 Timothy, ' Let no man despise thy youth !' And, 
 sir, you remind me of what I have read of a 
 French monarch, who had received a young am- 
 bassador, and complainingly said, ' Your master 
 should not have sent me a beardless stripling !' 
 ' Sir,' said the youthful ambassador, ' had my mas- 
 ter supposed you wanted a beard, he would have 
 sent you a goat.' " 
 
 On the subject of the ancestors of Jay we are 
 not much enlightened : nor does it much matter. 
 Jay has said facetiously, in the words of Bacon, 
 that they who derive their worth from their ances- 
 tors resemble potatoes, the most valijable part of 
 
WILLIAM JAY. - 285 
 
 which is underground. He used to relate, that 
 when one of Lord Thurlow's friends was endeav- 
 oring to make out his relationship to the Secretary- 
 Cromwell, whose family had been settled in the 
 county adjoining Suffolk, he replied, " Sir, there 
 were two Cromwells in that part of the country, 
 Thurlow the secretary, and Thurlow the carrier — 
 I am descended from the latter." This is almost 
 as good as the anecdote related of the man who, 
 being asked some questions about his pedigree, 
 answered that " he was not particularly sure, but 
 had been credibly informed that he had three 
 brothers in the ark." 
 
 Jay's ftxther was a stone-mason. Neither his 
 father nor mother were persons of much educa- 
 tion ; they were, however, upright, conscientious, 
 kind, tender, charitable, and were much esteemed 
 in the neighborhood. The family attended the 
 ministry of a Presbyterian, who was described as 
 a dry and dull preacher, but very kind and gener- 
 ous. He gave Jay the two first books he could 
 call his own — Watt's "History of the Old and 
 New Testament," and Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress." At this time he was receiving the humble 
 education afforded at the village school. But he 
 was not apt in receiving instruction. One of his 
 sisters said the family thought William would 
 never learn to read ; but when he did master the 
 art, he was very anxious to acquire additional 
 knowledge. He was, perhaps, learning more at 
 this time than his teachers would give him credit 
 
286 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 for. The impressions of the beautiful scenery 
 around his home sank into his heart and memory, 
 during his solitary walks, never after to be effaced. 
 At this time he had a reputation for being a good 
 boy, with a desire to do right ; he had not, as he 
 relates, any immoralities. On one occasion, how- 
 ever, while he was at play, he uttered a falsehood, 
 accompanying the untruth with an oath, to carry 
 his point. This wicked act so preyed upon his 
 conscience that he shortly after retired to his own 
 room, to repent in solitude, and to ask God's for- 
 giveness. 
 
 He was apprenticed to his father's business, 
 stone-cutting, when he was about fourteen years 
 of age, and worked with his father at the building 
 of Fonthill House, the celebrated residence of Mr. 
 Beckford. On one occasion, after his day's labor, 
 he went to hear a Mr. Turner preach in a private 
 dwelling ; the singing and the sermon upon that 
 occasion made a deep impression upon him, so 
 that he scarcely slept, he tells us, for weeping 
 and for joy. Next morning there was another 
 service at seven o'clock, at which Jay was the first 
 attendant. Mrs. Turner, the preacher's wife, 
 opened the door, and kindly taking him by the 
 hand, said : " Are you hungering for the bread of 
 life?" Subsequently, this excellent woman met 
 William on his way from work on several occa- 
 sions, and conversed with him as only a good kind 
 woman can. Just at this time the excellent Cor- 
 nelius Winter came to preach at Tisbury. Jay 
 
WILLIAM JAY. 287 
 
 formed one of the congregation, whose counte- 
 nance so impressed the preacher as to be remem- 
 bered twelve months after, when he again officiated 
 in the same place. This second occasion was on a 
 week evening, when there sat Jay with his flannel 
 jacket and his white leather apron, just as he had 
 returned from work. After the sermon the minis- 
 ter sought an interview with him, when he doubt- 
 less wondered what he could be wanted for. It 
 may be as well to state here, that the rich, refined, 
 and elegant Mr. Beckford, during the time that 
 Jay was preaching in Bath, took an opportunity to 
 hear him, without being aware of the fact that the 
 preacher had been employed as a lad in the rear- 
 ing of his princely home. He afterward left a 
 noble tribute to Jay's power. He said : " This 
 man's mind is no petty reservoir supplied him by 
 laborious pumpings : it is a clear, transparent 
 spring, flowing so freely as to impress the idea of 
 its being inexhaustible. In many of these pas- 
 sages the stream of eloquence is so full, so rapid, 
 that we are fairly borne down and laid prostrate 
 at the feet of the preacher, whose arguments in 
 these moments appear as if they could not be 
 controverted, and we must yield to them. The 
 voice which calls us to look into ourselves, and 
 prepare for judgment, is too piercing, too power- 
 ful, to be resisted ; and we attempt, for worldly 
 and sensual considerations, to shut our ears in 
 vain." 
 
 One evening, after hearing a. sermon by Mr. 
 
288 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Turner, on family worship, Jay returned home 
 and besought his father to undertake it. On his 
 refusing, on account of inability, he offered to per- 
 form it himself. The offer was accepted with 
 tears, and he became a kind of domestic chaplain. 
 On the occasion of Mr. Winter preaching the 
 second time at Tisbury, as has been intimated, he 
 desired the door-keeper to ask "Billy Jay" to 
 come to him in the parlor after the service. 
 When he did so, the good man knelt down and 
 prayed with him, and subsequently offered to ad- 
 mit him amongst a small academy of young men 
 that he was educating. The invitation was happily 
 accepted. He went to Marlborough, where for 
 some years, he was under the instruction of that 
 " celestial creature, Cornelius Winter," as Bishop 
 Jebb called him. 
 
 It may be both interesting and instructive to 
 insert a specimen of Jay's literary ability at the 
 time of his joining the academy — there is only one 
 specimen extant, and, contrasted with the after- 
 productions of Jay, it is a very curious document 
 indeed. It is inserted, of course, verbatim. 
 
 " To Mr. Winter, Marlborough. 
 
 "Tisbury, January 30th, 1785. 
 "Dutiful Freind — this comes with my kind 
 love to you hoping It will find you in good health 
 as it Left me and all my friend at tisbury thanks 
 be to god for his mercy and Goodness in preser- 
 ving us to thisi present moment in health and 
 
WILLIAM JAY. . 289 
 
 strength, health is the honey that Sweetens every 
 temporal mercy to be well in body is a great bless- 
 ing but to be well in soul is a much greater Bless- 
 ing than this what is the body when compar'd 
 with the Soul it is no more than the Candles Slen- 
 der Light to the great illuminary the Sun in its 
 meridian Splendor and beauty. 
 
 " I received your Letter and was very thankfull 
 for your kindness to me in it. You Desired to 
 hear from me Mr. Serman's return and if I could 
 write you something of my Christian Experience, 
 my experience is that I Desire to Love the Lord 
 above all and Desire to Live more to his Glory 
 and honor. I hope that I can say that he is the 
 chiefest to my Soul of ten thousand and altogether 
 Lovely I Desire to know nothing but Jesus and 
 Desire to be found in him not having on my own 
 Righteousness which is polluted with sin and im- 
 pure but the Righteousness which is of god which 
 is for all and upon all that Believe in him. my 
 father says that he will find me in cloths as much 
 as he is able I can come at any time when you 
 think proper So I conclude with my father and 
 mother's Love to you I am your humble servant. 
 
 "William Jay." 
 
 It will be apparent that few persons could go to 
 any academy more deficient of general knowledge 
 than Jay. But he had the essential thirst for in- 
 formation which insured application when the op- 
 portunity was presented. At the academy he soon 
 19 
 
290 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 made progress under the direction of his tutor, by 
 whom he was appointed at various times, with the 
 other pupils, to visit the surrounding villages to 
 exhort and in various ways to forward the spiritual 
 interests of the people. Jay was little more than 
 sixteen when he preached his first sermon, select- 
 ing as his text, " If so be ye have tasted that the 
 Lord is gracious." After this he preached very 
 frequently, so that he delivered, as he tells us, 
 more than a thousand sermons before he had at- 
 tained his twenty-first year. 
 
 Jay was not unconscious, from the fact of the 
 many applications for the " boy preacher," that he 
 possessed talents of which he had previously taken 
 no account. He had, however, the good sense to 
 know if he was to make any figure in the world, 
 he must remember a remark in the "Life of 
 Watts :" " The reason why the ancients surpassed 
 the moderns was their greater modesty. They 
 had a juster conception of the limitation of human 
 powers; and, despairing of universal eminence, 
 they confined their application to one thing, in- 
 stead of expanding it over a wider surface." 
 
 After the needful preparation at Mr. "Winter's, 
 Jay was engaged by the celebrated Rev. Rowland 
 Hill to preach for a season at the Surrey Chapel, 
 London — a formidable engagement for so young a 
 man. The place, though so large, was soon crowded 
 to excess ; and when he preached his last sermon, 
 the yard before the adjoining dwelling-house was 
 filled with the linojerino^ multitude who would not 
 
WILLIAAI JAY. 291 
 
 disperse until he had bidden them farewell from 
 the window. Before he left London, he had 
 several offers to become the pastor of various 
 chapels. "With singular good sense he declined 
 the invitations, with the wise intention of securing 
 more preparation before entering upon any import- 
 ant permanent charge. For this purpose he ac- 
 cepted a small charge at Christian Malford, near 
 Chippenham. His salary was to be £35 a year, 
 with the additional consideration of being boarded 
 gratuitously by one of the tradesmen of this place. 
 His design, however, in going to the village was 
 frustrated; his books were few; there was no 
 pubUc Hbrary to which he could have access, and 
 his salary was too small to allow him to purchase 
 new ones ; also, as a further impediment to his im- 
 provement, he was constantly urged to preach 
 abroad, and he lacked the moral courage to say 
 "JSTo." 
 
 After leaving Christian Malford, which the cir- 
 cumstances of the case compelled him to do. Lady 
 Maxwell, who owned the chapel at the Hotwells 
 at Bristol, invited him to occupy her pulpit. He 
 stayed there twelve months, during which time the 
 chapel was always crowded ; and, what must have 
 filled him with great joy, he heard of several con- 
 versions as the result of his preaching, three of 
 whom subsequently became preachers themselves^ 
 and were ordained over congregations, and ulti- 
 mately, he had the satisfaction to know, died in 
 the faith. A little difference arising with Lady 
 
292 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 Maxwell's sub-governess, who had the manage- 
 ment of affidrs in her lady's absence, mduced Jay 
 to withdraw from the charge. At this time he 
 fortunately received an invitation from the Inde- 
 pendent Church at Bath, then destitute by the 
 death of the Rev. Thomas Tuppen. This invita- 
 tion he accepted, and soon found himself in his 
 new position completely at home. His ordination 
 shortly followed ; when he might now be said to 
 have made his permanent choice. Subsequently 
 the chapel was thrice enlarged, and even then it 
 was too small to meet the wants of the numbers 
 who desired sittings. 
 
 Shortly after his establishment at Bath, he mar- 
 ried a most excellent and amiable woman, that 
 was in his after-life, under all circumstances, a true 
 helpmate. Jay speaks of her in terms the most 
 enthusiastic, and doubtless ever loved her with the 
 utmost warmth of his ardent nature. Both Jay 
 and his wife suffered from continued illness at 
 different periods of their lives. He speaks of his 
 own illness as resulting from a weak constitution 
 and study, which had at times been much pro- 
 tracted. For a lengthened period he had been 
 subject to constant headaches, which rendered 
 both his preaching and his preparatory studies 
 painful. At times, his sight was so confused that 
 he was almost rendered unconscious of outward 
 things. The medical men to whom he applied 
 used all the means which their skill and experience 
 suggested, which only resulted, however, in bring- 
 
WILLIAM JAY. 293 
 
 ing him almost to the biink of the grave. In this 
 emergency he was recommended by the slaves' 
 friend, Mr. Wilberforce, to consult Dr. BailHe, 
 whom he recommended as his friend and physi- 
 cian. The result of this advice was the adoption 
 of habits which ultimately tended to the restora- 
 tion of his health. In the first place, he contracted 
 the custom of being seldom in bed after five in 
 the morning ; this was not because he could not 
 sleep, but because he felt it a duty to practice this 
 self-denial. He felt that the practice was morally 
 right, as it redeemed time and aided duty: and 
 also that it was physically right, as it was whole- 
 some and healthful. Then, in addition, he was 
 exceedingly temperate in his food ; he used, in his 
 later years at least, water only. He was careful, 
 also, not to add to his wants by any fictitious ap- 
 petites. The wretched habits of snuff-taking and 
 smoking he carefully avoided, and during any tem- 
 porary headache, or disturbance of his general 
 health, exercised himself in the garden or in any 
 open-air relaxation, which soon brought back the 
 desired healthy tone. 
 
 The works he published during his protracted 
 life were read with the utmost avidity by the 
 members of the various denominations. His first 
 literary venture was a sermon on "The mutual 
 Duties of Husbands and Wives," which went 
 through six editions, and was much commended at 
 the time. This was' succeeded by a volume of 
 sermons, also favorably received ; and subsequent 
 
294: FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 volumes of sermons — "Short Discourses for the 
 Use of Families," went through repeated editions, 
 and procured for him the diploma of D. D. This 
 title he never used except on one occasion, as he 
 relates, when he left a case of manuscripts at a 
 large inn. It answered the purpose of preserving 
 the papers, and from that circumstance Jay argued 
 the use of such honors. After the volumes of ser- 
 mons he published two biographical works — " The 
 Life of the Rev. CorneUus Winter," and " Memoirs 
 of the Rev. John Clarke." He also published two 
 volumes of " Morning Exercises for the Closet," 
 which soon reached a tenth edition ; these were 
 f^-llowed by two more volumes of exercises for the 
 "Evening." Many, if not the whole of these 
 works, were reprinted in America ; and one com- 
 plete collected edition of the entire was published 
 at Baltimore. 
 
 Jay records the circumstance of preaching at the 
 opening of Hanover Chapel, on which occasion the 
 Duke of Sussex was present. He adopted his 
 usual custom, to retire before the service, for 
 prayer and contemplation ; so that when he en- 
 tered the pulpit he delivered his message with his 
 accustomed freedom. The fear of man had no 
 snare for him. He did not, as a custom, write out 
 his sermons, yet, as the opportunity presented, he 
 committed his thoughts to paper. It was the advice 
 of Mrs. Hannah More, at her first interview with 
 him, to write much. " It matters not, compara^ 
 lively," said that extraordinary woman, to whom 
 
WILLIAJ^I JAY. 295 
 
 the world owes a deep debt of gratitude, "on 
 what a young composer first writes ; by the con- 
 stant use of his pen he will soon form a style ; and 
 by nothing else will he attain it." She also recom- 
 mended writing with as much celerity as possible, 
 regardless of trifling inaccuracies. "These," she 
 said, "should not be suffered to check and cool 
 the mind. These may be safely left for correction 
 in review, while advantage is taken of the heat of 
 composition to go on to the end ; it being better to 
 produce the whole figure at one fusion than to 
 cast successively various parts, and then conjoin 
 them." 
 
 On the 31st day of January, 1841, Mr. Jay com- 
 pleted his fiftieth year of ministering. On that 
 occasion the members of his congregation pres- 
 ented him with a silver salver, with the following 
 inscription : — 
 
 " Presented, together with the sum of six hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds to the Rev. William Jay, by 
 the members of the church and congregation as- 
 sembled in Argyle Chapel, Bath, and by other 
 friends, on the completion of the fiftieth year of 
 his happy and useful pastorate, as a tribute of 
 Christian esteem, affection, and gratitude. Janu- 
 ary 30th, 1841." 
 
 The younger members of the congregation also 
 presented him with a handsome gold medal and 
 a silver salver. Subsequently, the servants of the 
 families composing the congregation presented 
 him with a silver sugar-basin, stating simply, that 
 
FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 it came from many attached female servants in 
 connection with the church and congregation. Mr. 
 Jay wrote the contributors affectionate letters, and 
 presented each of them with a volume of his 
 sermons. 
 
 At last the life of this good man came to a close. 
 On the 27th day of December, 1853, his spirit left 
 its earthly clay to join the good who had gone 
 before. Thus closed the lengthened career of the 
 stone-mason's apprentice — honored and esteemed 
 by the whole Christian world. How fittingly may 
 we close this "sketch in the words of the poet: — 
 
 "Honor and shame from no condition rise 
 Act well your part — there all ihe honor lies." 
 
EOGEE SHEKMAlSr. 
 
 It is said that *' Love laughs at locksmiths." So 
 true genius laughs at impediments, and in propor- 
 tion to the severity of its struggles, gathers 
 strength for conquest. The life of Roger Sher- 
 man, at one time a humble shoemaker, illustrates 
 this fact. He was born at Newton, Massachusetts, 
 April 19th, 1V21. Of his childhood and early 
 education we know but little. He received no 
 other education than the ordinary country schools 
 in Massachusetts at that time afforded, which was 
 meagre and poor enough, indeed. He was neither 
 assisted by public education nor by private tuition. 
 All that he acquired were the results of his own 
 vigorous efforts ; he was indebted alone to his 
 ardent thirst for knowledge and his indefatigable 
 industry, and by these he attained an acquaint- 
 ance with general science, logic, geography, math- 
 ematics, history, philosophy, geology, and espe- 
 cially law and politics. 
 
 He was apprenticed at an early age to a shoe- 
 maker, and pursued that occupation until he was 
 over twenty-two years of age, when, in obedience 
 to the necessities of his mother, he took charge of 
 
298 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 a small farm that her husband had left. While 
 employed in his shoe-craft, not a moment's time 
 was wasted ; he was accustomed to sit at his 
 work with a book before him, devoting to study 
 every moment that his eyes could be spared from 
 the occupation in which he was engaged. He thus 
 acquired his knowledge of mathematics, and before 
 he was twenty-one he made astronomical calcula- 
 tions for an almanac published in New York. 
 
 In 1744 the little farm was sold, and the family, 
 consisting of his mother and numerous brothers 
 and sisters, went to reside in New Milford, Con- 
 necticut, where Roger's eldest brother had moved 
 and settled. The journey was performed by 
 Roger on foot, and he carried his " kit" of shoe- 
 maker's tools on his back. At this place he 
 worked industriously at his trade, at the same 
 time neglecting no opportunity to increase his 
 store of knowledge. He learned rapidly, for his 
 mind was quick, comprehensive, and logical. Af- 
 ter a while he became a partner in mercantile 
 business, and applied himself, in his leisure, to the 
 study of law. He soon became proficient, and 
 was admitted to the bar in 1754. His talents 
 soon attracted public attention, and we soon find 
 him in the General Assembly of Connecticut. In 
 the same year he was appointed Justice of the 
 Peace, and after a practice of five years was ap- 
 pointed Judge of the Court for Litchfield county. 
 
 But now the Revolution was drawing near, and 
 Mr. Sherman became one of the leading patriots in 
 
EOGER SHERMAN. 299 
 
 the State of Connecticut. He fearlessly took part 
 with the people in their opposition to the Stamp 
 Act, and in 1774 was one of the delegates to the 
 General Congress of the colonies. He was present 
 at the openmg of the first Congress. In his new 
 post of duty he acquired distinguished reputa- 
 tion, and was one of the committee appointed to 
 prepai-e that immortal instrument, the Declara- 
 tion of Independence. And during the war he 
 rendered important public services ; John Adams 
 says of him, that he was " one of the soundest and 
 strongest pillars of the Revolution." He repre- 
 sented Connecticut in the convention that framed 
 the constitution ; was the first delegate from that 
 state in the federal Congress after the organization 
 of our present government ; and he held a seat in 
 the Senate of the United States at the time of his 
 death, which occurred on the 23d of July, 1793, 
 in the seventy-tliird year of his age. 
 
 The most important practical lesson which we 
 derive from the life of Mr. Sherman is the value 
 of habits of study and meditation. He was dis- 
 tinguished for unflinching integrity, for accurate 
 knowledge ; he was capable of deep and long in- 
 vestigation ; and he added to all his other merits 
 the pre-eminent one of being devoutly a religious 
 man. The testimonials to his worth have been 
 singularly marked and unanimous. Fisher Ames 
 was accustomed to express his opinion by saying, 
 "That if he happened to be out of his seat [in 
 Congress] when a subject was discussed, and came 
 
300 FAMOUS BOYS. 
 
 in when the question was about to he taken, he 
 always felt safe in voting as Mr. Sherman did, /or 
 Tie always voted right?"* Dr. Dwight, while in- 
 structing the senior class at Yale College, obser- 
 ved, that Mr. Sherman was remarkable for not 
 speaking in debate without suggesting something 
 new and important. Washington uniformly treated 
 Mr. Sherman with great respect and attention. 
 Mr. Macon, a distinguished senator of the United 
 States, once remarked to the Hon. William Reed, 
 of Marblehead, that " Roger Sherman had more 
 common sense than any man he ever knew." The 
 late Rev. Dr. Spring, of Newburyport, was return- 
 ing from the South, while Congress was in session at 
 Philadelphia. Mr. Jefferson accompanied him to 
 the hall, and designated several distinguished mem- 
 bers of that body ; in the course of this polite at- 
 tention, he pointed in a certain direction, and ex- 
 claimed, "That is Mr. Sherman, of Connecticut, a 
 man who never said a foolish thing in his life." 
 
 Mr. Sherman was sometimes accused, but with- 
 out justice, of being vain of the obscurity of his 
 origin. From the distinguished eminence which 
 he reached, he probably contemplated with satis- 
 faction, that force of mind and that industry which 
 enabled him to overcome all the obstacles which 
 encompassed his path. For the gratification 
 arising from such a contemplation, no one will be 
 disposed to censure him. 
 
 THE END. 
 
TH« ILLUSTRATED EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 COOFEH'S NOVELS. 
 
 from ih« Boston TrwvelUr, 
 ** Kothlng biw been left undone to render the edttton as perffect «8 
 &rt, ent6T(>ri«c, »nd liberal expeujiture can render it. The typography 
 l8 of the moat eiegrant description. The paper Is of the Tery firat ctass 
 of that manufacture, strong, clean, and smooth as the palm of a lady's 
 hand. The binding is at once durable and beautiful. The size is tho 
 crown octavo, universally allowed to be the best both for convenience 
 and preservation. The illustrations, which will be 6vie hundred tn 
 number, will all be designed by that consummate genius, P. 0. C. Dar- 
 ley, who will be thoroughly at home on the pages of Cooper. Sixty- 
 four of the illustrations will be on steel, engraved by the Bniilies, 
 Alfred Jones, Delnoce, Burt, GIrsh, Phillibrown, Andrews, Pease, and 
 Schoff. Those on wood will be the woric of leading artists, among 
 whom are Edmonds, Whitney, the Orrs, Bobbett, and Anthony. Thus 
 much for the externals of the volumes. In other respects they will 
 be found equally worthy of the attention of the public. Each 
 Toiume will contain the last corrections of the author, and will 
 on that account alonfe present an unrivalled claim to superiority over 
 
 any other edition We venture to predict that this edition 
 
 of Cooper will be eminently Saccessful, that it will find its way Into the 
 ban<ls of every person of taste, and that no library, public or prirate, 
 can afford to be without It." 
 
 From th9 Phtladetphla PreM. 
 "This new edition of Cooper will probably have as large a sa'e as 
 any series of volumes ever published In this country. It is emphatically 
 one of the most splendid collections ever issued — equalled only by the 
 embellished Ahbotsford edition of Scott'b Novels, which is too bulky la 
 size and delicate In adornment for dally ose. On the cotitrary, ^U 
 Ooopcr ia equally adapted /or the parlor and the library.** 
 
72 The Illustrated Edition of Cooper's ITovelt, 
 
 From the Portland (Me.) Argue. 
 
 ** The style and finish of the work are snch as to make \t a fitting tes- 
 timonial to the genius of the most fascinating of all our native writers, 
 and it should receive the support and approval of the American pub- 
 
 From the N. T. Evening Poet, 
 
 ** The execution of the volume Is In all respects worthy of the 
 genius of the author whose work it perpetuates, and cannot fail to re- 
 new the Interest that has for so long a time made the name of Cooper 
 one of the most prominent in American literature. The designs 
 by Darley are not only executed in the best style of that eminent 
 artist, but are as original in conception as is the tale whose incidents 
 they delineate. The illustration of this series of novels has long been 
 a favorite idea with Darley, and we can discover, not only in the two 
 sketches of Leather-Stocking, which grace the present volume, but in 
 several others that have been shown to us, the love of the subject 
 which the artist has brought to his labor. Henceforth the reputation ol 
 Darley will be associated with his illustrations of Cooper, and no edition 
 Will be considered complete without them." 
 
 From the Rochester Union and AdverHeer, 
 
 *'A Great Ambrican Entkrprisb — Splendid Edition of Cooper*! 
 NovKLS.— It fell to an American publishing house to bring out the first 
 really beautiful Illustrated edition of Scott's Novels, and however 
 much we felt bound and pleased to commend an enterprise so credit- 
 able, we felt that our own great novelist, Cooper, speaking for his 
 country, deserved a like remembrance. His works have done as 
 much to perpetuate the memory of revolutionary heroism, pioneer en- 
 terprise, and naval gallantry in our people, as all the history ever 
 written. The tales of Leather-Stocking, the noble hero of five of his 
 novels, the story of " The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish," are vivid pictures 
 of pioneer life, when civilization was contending against the savage 
 possessors of this continent. " The Spy " and " Lionel Lincoln " are 
 tales of the Revolution, which cannot be read too much. The 
 *' Pilot," " Red Rover," and " Water Witch," are charming sea tales, 
 and illustrate the gallantry of our early seamen. We are happy to 
 see It announced that his works have not been forgotten, and that an 
 edition of these novels will soon begin to appear from an American 
 press that will excel anything of the kind ever issued In this or any 
 other country." 
 
 From the Boston Transortpt. 
 
 •• This new and beautiful edition of Cooper, has received Its crowning 
 distinction from the vigorous skillful, and we must add, sympathetio 
 pencil ol P. 0. C. Darley. His drawings are universally admired for 
 their expression, correctness and beauty ; but In these illustrations of 
 Cooper, he seems to have found his most congenial sphere. No designs 
 executed in this country can compare with them for masterly finish and 
 efi°ect. His genius is akin to Cooper's In a certain facile energy; h« 
 catches the very spirit of the novelist's scenes and characters." 
 
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