THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE. / JANUARY, 1834. ORIGINAL PAPERS. SALUTATORY.. WITH heartie greetyng to our Friends we come,. At the younge yeeres birth-day, to give Our smyles to all, and eke our teeres to some, And pray ye all long lives may live, And ever honestlie that ye may thrive. The olde sire, Time, with beauteous gilded wing, Hath overfiowne the paths of ye who smyle ; But, troth! his scythe umquhiles must swing, And frownes his forehead clothe awhile! He ruin on some kyngdomes doth let fall, While yet aneath his tread some nations rise. CLarige, change he loves, and it ysends on all Thorough the eternall course he flies, Ne cares for mortalls paines, nor heeds their cries. Him watch we, as he wends his ceaseless waye, And of his doings straight to ye we sing; Yvaried are his deeds,, yvaried is our lay, Alike his acts the legende that we bring; He gives us sweete, and oft we feele his sting. Upon his pinions doth he hear along Mans glorious cause, and spreads Knowledge that makes the weakest strong,. And levels with the crowde earthes crowned heads, And human spirits with angelic weds~. VOL. Vi. I 2 Salutatory. To bris~hteyed Lihertie he len(leth powre, Which eftsoons bix~aks the cruell tyrants iod Oppression takes fro him her fated hour; lie makes the sceptre shake, the throne to nod, And sends the bloodie ruler to his vengefull God. lie takes faire Science kindly by the hand, And leades her willing footsteps oer the earth Yspreds her gladsome smyles fro lande to lande, Rejoicing with her fro her birth, And in her triumphs finds his sweetest mirth. Religion, too, doth now accompanie old Time, With glorious glowing ornaments bedight; And ever fro her pitying eyne Beams forth a pure and holie light, Which dazes not, but fascinates, the sight. But by his side, a gloomie form Yrohed inhorror, stalketh dreddefull forth, Like the fell demon of the storm, Which rushes fro the boisterous North. Why shrinks old age away fro him~ That direfUl phantom grim ? Why do the nations sink beneath The volume of his fierie breath? It is the ruthless, cruell monster, Death And on his brow there ever broods a frowne: Red burning flames leap forth from out his eye, VVhich strike resistless millions down ~Jheir time has come,their time to die: And at his aspect bravest bosoms sigh But in his path, a thing of beauty rare, Comes smyling onward :Who is she, So sweetelie gracious, heavenlie faire, Fro whom the cloudes of sorrow flee? her breath, like perfumed gales of Araby, Restores the smyles so lately fled She summons back the truant, Joy, His rosie flowers agen to spread Above the very couches of the dead. New Years Reflections. 3 T is that dear angel, lovelie 1-lope, Who aye will track the path of pain, Sorrows closed eyne agen to ope, And, when our pleasures are in wane, Recall them back to us yfresh agen. hope! at whose glance the present fades away., And we but think of joys to-morrow; And cares dull pressure of the sad to-day, (As we of coming blisses borrow,) Flies with the flying clouds of sorrow. May she your footsteps cer attend, And cheer your hearts in each endeavor, Until your earthly term shall end When Time your thread of life must sever, Exchanging Hope for Bliss forever. JANUS. January 1st, 1534. NEW YEAR~ S REFLECTIONS. GOOD Readers, we wish you a happy New Year. May your happi- ness increase with your virtues. May generous hcarts, good friends, and well-stored garners be the reward of your labors. Perhaps the present is as fit an occasion, as we may soon have, to look about us, and to consider what we are, and whither we are going. The knowing ones, who have been amonsi us taking notes and printing them, have given us sore offence. Undoubtedly, all that they say is false ; but let us inquire what there is among us, that could have given rise to such falsehoods. Misrepresentations are seldom without foundation, and no falsehood (we are stating the doctrine of a great philosopher) can gain currency, unless it have some mixture of truth. how then can it be, that we are called a sordid, avaricious, narrow-minded, bigoted, conceited, haranguing, superficial, ill-man- nered people ? How is it possible, that, with all our spotless purity, artless simplicity, unbounded philanthropy, and unheard-of liberality, such opinions respecting us should have got abroad ? Why are we called avaricious? A traveler in part accounts for the assumption, by saying that an American can never talk an hour without using the word dollar. Of this fact we have no doubt. Since reading the assertion, we have had the curiosity to watch for the ob- noxious expression, and we candidly confess, that, whether with mer- chants or with professional men, whether with day laborers or with learned professors, we have every where seen enough to justify the tourists declaration. We do not mean to assert, that the word dollar

New Years Reflections. 3 T is that dear angel, lovelie 1-lope, Who aye will track the path of pain, Sorrows closed eyne agen to ope, And, when our pleasures are in wane, Recall them back to us yfresh agen. hope! at whose glance the present fades away., And we but think of joys to-morrow; And cares dull pressure of the sad to-day, (As we of coming blisses borrow,) Flies with the flying clouds of sorrow. May she your footsteps cer attend, And cheer your hearts in each endeavor, Until your earthly term shall end When Time your thread of life must sever, Exchanging Hope for Bliss forever. JANUS. January 1st, 1534. NEW YEAR~ S REFLECTIONS. GOOD Readers, we wish you a happy New Year. May your happi- ness increase with your virtues. May generous hcarts, good friends, and well-stored garners be the reward of your labors. Perhaps the present is as fit an occasion, as we may soon have, to look about us, and to consider what we are, and whither we are going. The knowing ones, who have been amonsi us taking notes and printing them, have given us sore offence. Undoubtedly, all that they say is false ; but let us inquire what there is among us, that could have given rise to such falsehoods. Misrepresentations are seldom without foundation, and no falsehood (we are stating the doctrine of a great philosopher) can gain currency, unless it have some mixture of truth. how then can it be, that we are called a sordid, avaricious, narrow-minded, bigoted, conceited, haranguing, superficial, ill-man- nered people ? How is it possible, that, with all our spotless purity, artless simplicity, unbounded philanthropy, and unheard-of liberality, such opinions respecting us should have got abroad ? Why are we called avaricious? A traveler in part accounts for the assumption, by saying that an American can never talk an hour without using the word dollar. Of this fact we have no doubt. Since reading the assertion, we have had the curiosity to watch for the ob- noxious expression, and we candidly confess, that, whether with mer- chants or with professional men, whether with day laborers or with learned professors, we have every where seen enough to justify the tourists declaration. We do not mean to assert, that the word dollar 4 New Years Reflections. is absolutely repeated once an hour, as regularly as a Connecticut clock strikes ; but we do mean to assert, that, whatever may be the subject of conversation, and wherever it may be held, dollars, cents, and mills occupy a very distinguished place. A beautiful piece of sculpture is exhibited in one of our cities. A party of admirers of the fine artsladies and gentlemenreturn de- lighted from the exhibition. How exquisitely the hands are finish- ed What a heavenly expression of countenance! I had supposed it impossible to throw so much feeling into the marble. It cannot but elevate and purify the soul to witness these lofty and holy representa- tions of the minds conceptions. There were many spectators there. The artist must make money by it. How much do you suppose he would ask for such a statue ? The winter schools in a country town have just closed. Several of the principal men of the place make it the subject of conversation. Our children have learned well this winter. They have had excel- lent instructers. Yes, says another, and there is no reason why they should not be good. We have paid them twenty dollars a month. My school tax this year amounts to seven dollars. If Bob dont learn, it will be his ovn fault ; for, besides schooling, he has cost me two dollars for books, since last April. A lawyer of distinguished powers is making an unusual effort in be- half of a man indicted for murder. The whole community are filled with horror at the atrocity of the crime, aud waiting with painful anxiety the result of the trial. The crowd, who have been kept in breathless attention by the eloquence of the occasion and the advo- cate, emerge from the court-room, agitated with (loubt and fear for the result. A thrilling speech we have just heard. It moved our in- most souls. Will not the prisoner be acquitted? Did you know that Mr. is to receive three thousand dollars for the part he takes in this trial ? What! three thousand dollars? Enormous. It is more than my farm is worth. These lawyers must be put down. They will eat up the whole land. Our chief magistrate visits a city far from the capitol. He is re- ceived with the highest marks of hospitality and respect. The most enthusiastic shouts follow his steps, and it ~vould seem as if gold were not too rich a pavement for his carriage xvheels to roll upon. He re- turns home. The popular admiration cools. The President is well enough; but his visit cost the city twenty thousand dollars, besides the hundred and sixty-two dollars, we shall have to pay the doctors for the men whose arms were shot off while firing the salute. A literary gentlemans merits are discussed. lie has talents ;that every one admits. He is a beautiful writer. He has an agreeable and excellent family. What can alloy his happiness? Is he a gen- tlemnan of fortune ? is shrewdly asked by some one in the corner who has not before opened his lips. A clergyman, after a life of the most conspicuous usefulness, expires in the midst of his labors. His people are inconsolable. A party of friends meet on the day of his sudden death, and talk over their loss. He was an excellent man. He faithfully fulfilled all his duties. He brought up and educated his children as a Christian father and a re New Years Reflections. 5 ligious teacher should. But he has left no property except his library, his furniture, and the quarters salary, of an hundred an(l fifty dollars, that ~vill be due next Friday. Short.sighted fools has he not left his good name? Has he not left the remembrance of a godly life? has he not left the example of his shining virtues? Are these nothing, think ye, to his widow an(l family ? Will they not he cherished by his children as the dearest relic of their sainted father? how much money did Christ leave to his followers? how much did the Apostles leave to their successors ? But our indignation is ill-timed. We had, for the moment, fallen into the same error with the flippant tourists whose works we decry. The specimens, which we have detailed, if not absolute facts, are hardly exaggerated examples of the tone of conversation among us. The following are facts, though of a kind so rare, that no important inference can be drawn from them. A young man, who had lost his father, under circumstances peculiarly afflictive, was some time after conversing upon the subject with a very resl)ectal)le gentleman. In the course of the conversation the gentleman observed.: Well, upon the whole, it was fortunate that your father died when he did ; for if he had lived a year longer, his affairs would have been such, that you would have been left entirely without property. How could the value of a fathers life be more coldly weighed in the balance against a cer- tain amount of money, by any heartless assassin, than in this not very extraordinary observation? Last summer, while a stage-driver left his horses for a minute, they took flight, and set out, with furious speed, with the coach load of fe- male passengers. Most of the ladies were so frighted that they threw themselves out, though at the manifest peril of..their lives. Only two were left, one of whom with great anxiety had been examining the road ; at length, seeing nothing in the way for a considerable distance, she drew her head into the stage, and observed to her companion, an elderly matron, that she thought they might escape with their lives. Perhaps we shall, said the old lady, but you will spoil your bon- net, dear. A country inn-holder, fromn an unusual course of prosperity, had become the thriftiest, if not the richest, man in the place. By some strange freak of generosity, ha was induced to give a supper to his neighbors. While at the table, one of the guests took occasion to praise the excellent quality of the fish. Yes, replied our host, and well it might be good ; what you ye got on your plate there cost a shilling. Facts of this kind, though unusual, may yet be sufficiently common to account in some measure for the charge of selfishness, that has been made and repeated against us. Travelers have supposed that because we are always talking of money, we are always thinking of it. They have foolishly supposed, that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. Yet what can be more unfounded than such a proverb? Every days experience shows its falsehood. We are, per- haps, every day and every hour talking about money; but it is the foul- est calumny imaginable to assert that we care much about it. People must have some standard of value; and as, with our improved deci 6 New Years Reflections. mal currency, money is more easily reckoned than other things, it is but right md expedient, that we should make morley the standard of all value, whether moral, social, religious, or intellectual. If a book can be bought for a dollar, it is worth a dollar. What more plain? Is it not a saying as old and as fixed as the everlasting hills, that things are worth what they will fetch? If a clergyman or a school- master can be hired for three hundred dollars a year, they are ~vorth three hundred dollars a year. We have heard a sensible old man, stoutly expostulate against his minister s exchanging with the pastor of a neighboring town. Why, said he, we give our minister five hundred dollars a year, and shall we submit to let him exchange, on equal teruis, with a man who preaches for a dollar a day ? And the old gentleman was right. If we drop this, what other mode of valua- tion can we find so convenient? A periodical costs five (lollars a year. To be sure it is not worth quite so much. We wish to do something to l)atrorlize literature; but we are willing that five dollars should be set down as its true value. Take away this marner of speaking, an(l how can we be understood? Precision is a darling virtue, which we cannot tamely surrender. If a boy goes to school three months, and his board costs eighteen (lollars, his tuition three dollars, his stage fare two dollars a A fifty cents, and other things sixty-three cents, what else shall we say except that he has twenty-four dollars and thirteen cents worth of learning? And pray, can we riot talk in this way with- out being called a sordid, avaricious race? Again, we are called a conceited people. What could give rise to such an idea? These superficial coxcombs, who have been among us, suffer themselves to be led astray by appearances. Because we simply call ourselves the most enlLhtened nation uri earth, we are, forsooth, conceited What impudence, to make the charge on such grounds! At a Fourth-of-July celebration, which we once attended, this toast was offered: Our country; better than any other on the globe. The effect was electrical, and the sentimnent received with the most deafening applause. Was this a mark of national conceit? Does not every man think his own wife better than any other mans? But does this prove that he is a conceited husband? Is it any proof of a nar- row and exclusive spirit, to declare that our country and our govern- ment are the best in the world ; that all other nations are yet in the region and shadow of death; that their people are ignorant and de- graded, while upon us, alone, the sun of science and of liberty shines with peerless lustre? Is it not all true? And shall we be afraid to tell the truth, lest bigoted foreigners should cavil? Thanks to our free institutions., we are too independent to be influenced by such un- manly fears. It is sweet to listen to the voice of praise. We remember, once in our travels, to have met a young iady as destitute of charms as a young lady could be. To her other like accomplishments she added that of being dissatisfied with every thing. The whole morning was spent in complaints. The stage was bad, the horses were bad, tile driver, the company, (in this we agreed with her) the road, in short, every thing, was bad. It is enough, said she, at the conclusion of a long tirade, it is enough to try an angels temper. Yes, was New Years Reflections. 7 our conscientious re1dy, we can well believe that, since it fries your temper. The effect ~vas immediate. She knew that the compliment was deserved, and theretbre was so delighted with it, that not another complaint escaped her lips during the remainder of a really tiresome and vexatious ride. We have sometimes harbored a momentary sus- picion, that the delight, with which we receive the encomiurns of foreigners, was not unlike that, with which our compliment was re- ceived by this unmarried Xantippe. The suspicion was only momen- tary. Our deserts are not imaginary they are real, and no encomi- vms can be tco high for them. We will not be robbed of our digni- fled self-respect; but, in conscious virtue bold, we ~vill throw back sneer for sneer upon these impertinent censors, and cause the rnelo- dious voice of our own praise to drown the harsh murmurs of their complaints. But then we are superficial scholars. How so? Have we not, in our immediate vicinity, a professor, who knows the meaning of every word in the Greek language? Have we not recently published an edition of Homers Iliad, with illustrations by Flaxman ? Have ~ve not several tolerably correct editions of Horace, and Virgil, and Cresar? Are there not American editions of most of the English classics? Has not La Place found among us a translator able to do justice to his M6canique C~leste? Are there not as many as five or six men in the United States who are able to read Newtons Principia? How can Europeans call us superficial, if we leant all that they know, and even write notes upon their hardest books? If they will supply all the learned works we want, they need not suppose that we are such fools as to waste our time in making others. Besides, how is it, that we are so ready to be guided by European books, at the same time that we are so conceited? But we ~vill throw away no more ink upon these topics. On this first day of January, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-four, we do solemnly aver, that we are not avaricious, that we are not conceited, that we are not superficial, and that we have not one of the faults that foreigners charge upon us. We only seem to have them. But, lest our weaker sisters and brethren should be offended, perhaps it will not be amiss to pay a little more attention to appearances. If, because we are alwa~ys talking about money, they infer that we are always thinking about it, perhaps it will be well to learn to talk about something else at least, in their presence. If, because we say that ours is the most enlightened l)eople on earth, they infer that we are exclusive in our feelings, let tis be content to praise ourselves without depreciating them. If they will say that we are ill-bred, because ~ve spit on carpets, or, (if not so barbarous as that,) because we are always in some way or other exuding the savory juices, let us but the deprivation would be too great. Any bodys good will is too dearly bought if purchased at the expense of a practice, which pollutes our breath, destroys our health, tries the patience of our wives, and makes us odious even to snakes; for we have seen them poisoned by the spittle of a tobacco chewer. Let us now shut the door, and, excluding all foreigners, talk for a few moments seriously among ourselves. Is it not possiblewe ask the question seriouslythat we set too high a value upon money? S New Years Reflections. We do not recognize the distinctions of rank and birth. Is it not possible that we are permitting their places to be supplied by the vul- gar distinctions of wealth ? The advantages which it confers are immediate. They are every where visible and tangible. They are always before us. Our reverence for them is riot distracted by the trappings of royalty or nobility. May it not be, then, that Mammon is gaining here more and heartier worshipers, than where his claims are disputed by other vanities? If so, we should look to it betimes. When wealth once becomes the leading object of the people, no gov- ernment or laws can withstand its power. When once it has become the standard of all kinds of merit, it will usurp the place of all. Now, though we altogether distrust the theory of checks and balances; the theory that vices, if placed in opposition to each other, will, in some measure, do the work of virtue; still we believe that the danger is less from a multitude of small faults, than from one all-powerful, all-absorb- ing sin. It is among the wise provisions of our Maker, that no two vices act in concert. The power of each is checked by its antagonist power. If, therefore, the prerogatives of birth arid rank among us are removed, only to let wealth reign sole umpire, nothing can be conceived more rnicious than the change. But how are we to prevent these ill consequences ? Simply by taking mor2 pains to cherish the virtues of social life. Let learning be more an object of respect. Let morality,not merely mercantile justice, but the nobler principles of morals, benevolence, mercy, char- ity, love, grow stronger among us. Let religion receive the veneration due to a message from heaven. Let virtue and intelligence be the standard of merit. Let wealth have an influence ; but let it not be the absorbing topic of conversation, thought, and action. Is it not more than probable that we place too much reliance upon our political institutions? We have, without doubt, the most perfect system of government known among men. But can any government, however perfect, preserve a people from destruction? Nay, by our unsuspecting confidence in the outward forms of government, do we not throw into the shade those private virtues, upon which all systems o legislation must rest for support? We wonder, indeed, at the youth- flil sculptor, ~vho died of a broken heart, because the breathless image, which his own hands had made, could not reciprocate his fruitless love. His ~vas a hard and a wayward fate; but not more hard, nor more strange, than ours will be, if we blindly fall down and worship the golden image of a free constitution, and, from its lifeless corpse, expect protection from every threatening danger. Its limbs are pow- erless, unless animated by the living spirit of knowledge and virtue. Laws are but dead letters, unless supported by the strong arm of pub- lic opinion. The principles of virtue, intelligence, and religion, form the broad basis, on which our public and private prosperity must rest. Once let our private morals become rotten, and ruin is inevitable. No public talents arid integrity, no laws or constitutions, can preserve us from perdition. To them our country may look with anxious eyes, in the hour of her distress. She may bind them about her burning brow, and fold them round her bleeding breast, and hope to gain relief. In vain. They but aggravate the disease, that rages within. They are like the cumbrous armor of a wounded knight, pressing, irritat New Years Reflections. 9 ing, killing him. If on these alone her hopes are placed, well may she exclaim The spirits I have raised abandon me The spells which I have studied baffle me The remedy I recked of tortured me and, if constrained to drag out a lingering existence, she may go on with the same unhappy ~vretch, and add There is a power upon me, which withholds And makes it my fatality to live; If it be life to wear within myself This barrenness of spirit, and to be My own souls sepulchre, for I have ceased To jestfy my actions to mysc~f But such xve believe is not to be otir destiny. We look forward to the year, upon which we this day enter, with no such apprehensions for ourselves or for our country. We look forward to the centuries, which are yet to shine upon a prosperous and harmonious people, with no such raven-like forebodings. A happy new year may this prove! happy new years may all prove, to ourselves our country ! ~, children, and our Rulers may err. Foreign. nations may frown. Civil discords may threaten. Still we believe that there is, and that there will be, in the character of our people, a power able to save us from all the dangers and trials to which we may be exposed. We will reverence the prin- ciples of justice and religion. We will advance in knowledge and virtue. Then may ~ve look with just pride to our growing cities and increasing wealth, and population ; for we shall exalt the destiny of man. We shall raise the character of the human family. We shall enlarge not merely our territories, but the sphere of human happi- ness. As we look forw~ rd, and see, in the vast ~vestern domain, valley beyond valley,, and mountain beyond mountain, smiling amid the blessings of peace and plenteousness, rich iii the gifts of God and man, while forest after forest disappears, and joyful villages and mighty cities take their place;. as we anticipate the day, when. a great, a hap- py and enlightened people shall live and rejoice, where now the wild beast roams unmolested, and, from ocean to ocean, tall spires with their solemn tongues shall call to..ether the pilgrims of earth to listen to the claims, the consolations, and the hopes of heaven, and, on our festal days forests, yet unexplored, shall join in songs of gratitude and praise, while mountains echo back the peals of triumph, and deep answers unto deep, then may our hearts swell with hopes too strong to be repressed. A virtuous community must be prosperous. The cause of truth and freedom will prevail for it is the cause of God. Make it the cause of our country, and she too will stand, till new years hopes and salutations shall cease to be known among men. Or, if a just Providence, in his unsearchable counsels, has fixed on her a fate, which no righteous n~ation ever yet experienced, and she be doomed to fall, her ex mple will shine ~vith surpassing brightness upon all future times, like those distant stars, ~vhose light cheers and guides mankind for ages and ages after they themoselves have ceased to exist. VOL. VI. 10 NANNIE KON~ S BIBLE. IT is as long ago as I can possibly remember, that the young men and boys of our village assembled at the South-end, to pull down an old house, which had stood tenantless, and threatening hourly to fall, for the last fifteen years. It was fine sport for them, and they made a great huzzaing; for it was so thoroughly decayed, that it needed very little assistance to enable it to come down altogether. As they were removing the rubbish, they discovered, in what seemed to have been a small out-of-the-way cupboard, a very mouldy Bible. On the blank leaf between the two Testaments, was ~vritreu Nannie Kon, her book, and underneath it, hardly legible, they read, Gien me, by my am kind ruither, afore she sold hersel to the deil for stran0 drink. The giide Laird forgie her. Thereupon arose a great marveling among the young people, and much rapid questioning; but there was no answering, until old Dea- con Downy came up. What a fond of legendary lore that man pos- sessed! EnouTh to supply all the magazines of the country. Pity he should have died so soon ! Deacon, said John Haskell, I just want you to look at this Bible. The deacon put on his spectacles, examined the cover, and read the writing, when he turned up his eyes and dropped the pipe from his mouth, which instantly severed into half a dozen pieces. The accident recalled his self-possession. John 1-Jaskell resumed: Deacon, we want to find out to whom that book used to belong. I remember myself when the Kilburns lived in this house ; I believe they built it. No, they did nt, said the deacon, shakin~ his head, and shutting his lips quite close, as if he never intended to speak again. John Haskell continued : It was built before my remembrance, to be sure ; but I know I used to play with Ben Kilburn until his parents died, and then he went to his grand- fathers in Vermont. Young people, said the deacon, if you will give attention to my words, Ill tell you the whole history of this here Bible, or, rather, of them it belonged to. lie accordingly began, while his audience crowded around him, with open eyes, ears, and mouths, to secure the whole of his story. Bracing himself up with his staff, the deacon proceeded to relate how, some thirty-five years ago, there came hither, from Scotland, a family by the name of lion. It consisted of Jamie Kon and Jennie Kon, the parents, and Nannie Kon, the only child. They lived in this ruined house, which was then a very good one. They were sober people, and well-behaved, until they met with some bad losses, by fire and theft, and then they were so disheartened that the good tavern-keeper, in his true kindness, sent them a bottle of spirits to con- sole them. It was so good, that Jamie came back for more, and more, an d more; and here, said the deacon, was the evil. Its no manner of harm to take a little. In this cold climate, a man needs it, especially if he has to work hard. Yes, sir, .Just so, sir, Sartain true, sir, rfha ts my mind, sir, was echoed round from his audience. Deacon, said little Fred. Barney, who stood under his elbow, had nt you better treat us

10 NANNIE KON~ S BIBLE. IT is as long ago as I can possibly remember, that the young men and boys of our village assembled at the South-end, to pull down an old house, which had stood tenantless, and threatening hourly to fall, for the last fifteen years. It was fine sport for them, and they made a great huzzaing; for it was so thoroughly decayed, that it needed very little assistance to enable it to come down altogether. As they were removing the rubbish, they discovered, in what seemed to have been a small out-of-the-way cupboard, a very mouldy Bible. On the blank leaf between the two Testaments, was ~vritreu Nannie Kon, her book, and underneath it, hardly legible, they read, Gien me, by my am kind ruither, afore she sold hersel to the deil for stran0 drink. The giide Laird forgie her. Thereupon arose a great marveling among the young people, and much rapid questioning; but there was no answering, until old Dea- con Downy came up. What a fond of legendary lore that man pos- sessed! EnouTh to supply all the magazines of the country. Pity he should have died so soon ! Deacon, said John Haskell, I just want you to look at this Bible. The deacon put on his spectacles, examined the cover, and read the writing, when he turned up his eyes and dropped the pipe from his mouth, which instantly severed into half a dozen pieces. The accident recalled his self-possession. John 1-Jaskell resumed: Deacon, we want to find out to whom that book used to belong. I remember myself when the Kilburns lived in this house ; I believe they built it. No, they did nt, said the deacon, shakin~ his head, and shutting his lips quite close, as if he never intended to speak again. John Haskell continued : It was built before my remembrance, to be sure ; but I know I used to play with Ben Kilburn until his parents died, and then he went to his grand- fathers in Vermont. Young people, said the deacon, if you will give attention to my words, Ill tell you the whole history of this here Bible, or, rather, of them it belonged to. lie accordingly began, while his audience crowded around him, with open eyes, ears, and mouths, to secure the whole of his story. Bracing himself up with his staff, the deacon proceeded to relate how, some thirty-five years ago, there came hither, from Scotland, a family by the name of lion. It consisted of Jamie Kon and Jennie Kon, the parents, and Nannie Kon, the only child. They lived in this ruined house, which was then a very good one. They were sober people, and well-behaved, until they met with some bad losses, by fire and theft, and then they were so disheartened that the good tavern-keeper, in his true kindness, sent them a bottle of spirits to con- sole them. It was so good, that Jamie came back for more, and more, an d more; and here, said the deacon, was the evil. Its no manner of harm to take a little. In this cold climate, a man needs it, especially if he has to work hard. Yes, sir, .Just so, sir, Sartain true, sir, rfha ts my mind, sir, was echoed round from his audience. Deacon, said little Fred. Barney, who stood under his elbow, had nt you better treat us Nannie Kons Bible. 11 all now? weve been hard at work. The deacon might not have heard, for he did not answer, but xvent on with his stor.y. It was quite ~vell for them to drink a little; but, simple creatures, they did not know when to stop; so they became intemperate, idle, and profane. They abused poor Nannie, who never would drink, until Oh, but I am getting through with the story too quick. XVell, the deacon satistied their curiosity, received their thanks, and a glass of something strengthening, while the Bible was sent to the old minister, Elder Oak. He read the writing, and burst into tears for he remembered poor Nannie, as a blessed saint, who was early called to her heavenly rest. It was some years after this, that my grand-aunt, the widow Bur- nam, pointed out~ the spot to me, as the place where once lived Jamie I(on and Jennie Kon, and then related to me what she knew of them. When the Kons first came to our village, Nannie was a wee lassie of only nine summers. her parents were excessively fond of her, and treated her like a baby, calling her their wee bit bairnie, their bonnie braw Nannie, & c. Sometimes people, who were passing by, would hear theni singing, to the air of Charlie is my darling; Ninnie is my darling, Our am Nannie dear. was on a Monday morning, Sae airly i the year, That Nannie cam to hide wi ns. Our am Nannie dear. 0/s .fWannie is, ~c. We took her to the holy kirk, In honnie snaw-white gear; An a the Ibik stood up to hiese ~1)ur am Nannie dear. 0/s Xannie is, ~,c. An she shall clase our weary een, An drap for us a tear; An scatter flowers where we rest, Our am sweet Nannie dear. Oh .Aannie is, ~c. This Jennie sang, while Jamie played a poor, sick, asthmatic old bagpipe, which made all our villagers hold their ears, and run away in a very brief time. Nannie Kon knew nothing of aught but love and kindness, until her parents became intemperate; and then, poor thing, she never had any more comfort in this world, except when the weather was so mild that she could go and stay in the woods, with the Bible that her mither gae her afore she sold hersel to the deil for stron~ drink. Jamie ai~d Jennie were quarreling with each other, and scolding Nan- nie, from morning till night. Soon after Elder Oak came among us, before he had heard of this outlandish family, he happened to encounter Jennie in one of his walks, just as she was returning from the tavern, with her bottle, which he charitably supposed to contain milk, or beer, or something equally innocent, and worthy of Christian use. Jennie did not know him; 12 Nannie Kons Bible. but she was always mighty chatty and chipper when Jamie was not in the way. He was himself so great a proser that the poor woman could never find an opportunity to speak where he was, whatever she might he dying to communicate. Very soon the Elder gave the con- versation a religious turn, as was his custom, and, finding Jennie quite stupid and indifferent in regard to that subject, he reminded her that it ~vas high time to repent and begin to serve the Lord. Sae I mann, sae I mann, said the old sinner, a little softened; and then, reflecting a moment, Na, na, she added, Im auld an far gane astray mysel; it s ower late for me; but I II make our Nannie sarve the laird, an gin she winna, I II break her deils neck. rrhe Elder stood a moment in dismay, and then, perceiving, for the first time, that she was somewhat.intoxicated, left her and walked hastily away. But he soon found out poor Nannie, and was her true friend until her death, which occurred the same year, ard a very happy death it was, free from severe pain, and full of joyful anticipation. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. Though Jamie and Jennie had neglected and abused their little daughter while she lived,, they mourned for her loss with the bitterest anguish; yet they did not repent and forsake their evil deeds, but drank and quarreled more and more. Jamie had the advantage of Jennie, for he could talk loudest and longest. Jennie felt her inferior- ity in this respect very deeply, and set about revenging herself in a ~vay which she afterwards regretted. There were two fine apple-trees back of the housethe sour apple-tree was Jarni& s, because he liked sour apples bestthe sweet apple-tree was Jennies, for she could eat none but sweet apples. One day, when Jennie was in great wrath, and could find no opportunity to scold Jamie, as he did iiot once cease from scolding her, she stole out into the back yard with the axe, to cut down the sour apple-tree; but not walking straight-forward, as usual, she deviated from the proper path, and, her eyes being a little misty, did not discover her mistake until she had so mangled her own sweet apple-tree that its speedy death was inevitable. Aroused by the noise, Jamie came tottering out into the yard, with ~vide-open eyes and uplifted hands: Jennie, puir hody) are ye fay? Ye re killin yer am tree. Its na my am tree, retorted Jennie; but, on being con- vinced of her mistake, she sat down and wept like a child. As the ancient psalm-hook hath it, He digged a pit, and digged it deep, That he might slay his brother; But wo to him, he did fall in The pit he digged for t other. Though Jennie seemed to thrive upon her potation, it was other- wise with her unfortunate partner. He gradually lost his strength, and the use of his limbs, until he was quite unable to move from his bed, and his dissolution was evidently approaching. One morning, the good minister called upon them, hoping that a word of admnonition, given even at the eleventh hour, might not be altogether in vain. As soon as he began to converse with the poor man, Jennie came to him with a large mug of rum and water. which she had just prepared. He declined taking any, at d she commenced drinking it herself. The Origin of Ghemistr!,/. 13 The mug was more than half emptied, when Jamie, unable longer to restrain his feelings, cried out, Oh Jennie, ye ill woman, will ye e en drink the whole ye sel, an afore the Elder, too ? Jennie gave him the mug, very reluctantly, and it was speedily finished, notwith- standing the gentle remonstrance of the minister. It s the joy o my auld heart, said .Jamie; it gies me new strength, an I 11 talk o religion brawly wi ye, now I ha taen it. And so he did. Jennie was in a sociable mood, too; but, finding no opportunity to speak, she stole out of the house silently. The minister soon followed, as he found that Jamie would have all the conversation, and there was no hope of doing him any good. Looking at his watch, he found it was not yet too late to make old Mr. Moony a visit ; so he l)roceeded thither. As he came up to the house, he saw Jennie Kon standing on the door-step. She was dancing and singing by herself. She saw him, but was too merry to recognize him; and, with a wild laugh, said she, Do you know, mon, that our Jamie s gaen to dee? Jamie s deemI sall live to eat the goose, that s fed on the grass that grows on Jamies grave. The minister heard her, and wept tears of pity for her utter wretch- edness. A few years before, she had been an affectionate wife and mother; but every good feeling of her heart was wasted away by the destroying influence of the demon, intemperance. As she did not repent, when her am puir Nannie died of the cold she had taken in the damp forest, whither her parents unkindness had driven her, so her stubborn spirit relented not when poor Jamie breathed his last, convulsively pressing his empty bottle to his breast. She lived alone in her house until the winter came, and, on a cold morning, after a long storm of wind and snow, when the neighbors came to inquire how she had weathered the tempest, they found her lying frozen before the hearth, with a broken bottle beside her. Such was the end,no, not the end; would to Heaven it were, but such was the death of Jamie Kon and Jerinie Kon. Those who walk in their steps, may not safely promise to themselves a more envi- able fate. T is the destiny of the intemperate. His path is down- ward, and a cloud of fearful blackness covers its termination. EVERALLIN. THE ORIGIN OF CHEMISTY, A MANtrscrtlPT, RECENTLY FOUND IN AN OLD TLIUNK. TN the year 1793, during my travels, I sojourned a few days at a London tavern, near to the Parliament House. In the room I occu- pied, there was a statue of a late Lord Mayor, in the rear of which a very slender man might, if he pleased, enclose himself. An idle whim led rue to enter this statue; and immediately after, one of the atten- dants opened the door of my room, and observed, Gentlemen, this room is empty, you can have this : I was thus in prison, and was constrained to be a silent auditor and spectator of the following dis- cussion and novel scene

The Origin of Ghemistr!,/. 13 The mug was more than half emptied, when Jamie, unable longer to restrain his feelings, cried out, Oh Jennie, ye ill woman, will ye e en drink the whole ye sel, an afore the Elder, too ? Jennie gave him the mug, very reluctantly, and it was speedily finished, notwith- standing the gentle remonstrance of the minister. It s the joy o my auld heart, said .Jamie; it gies me new strength, an I 11 talk o religion brawly wi ye, now I ha taen it. And so he did. Jennie was in a sociable mood, too; but, finding no opportunity to speak, she stole out of the house silently. The minister soon followed, as he found that Jamie would have all the conversation, and there was no hope of doing him any good. Looking at his watch, he found it was not yet too late to make old Mr. Moony a visit ; so he l)roceeded thither. As he came up to the house, he saw Jennie Kon standing on the door-step. She was dancing and singing by herself. She saw him, but was too merry to recognize him; and, with a wild laugh, said she, Do you know, mon, that our Jamie s gaen to dee? Jamie s deemI sall live to eat the goose, that s fed on the grass that grows on Jamies grave. The minister heard her, and wept tears of pity for her utter wretch- edness. A few years before, she had been an affectionate wife and mother; but every good feeling of her heart was wasted away by the destroying influence of the demon, intemperance. As she did not repent, when her am puir Nannie died of the cold she had taken in the damp forest, whither her parents unkindness had driven her, so her stubborn spirit relented not when poor Jamie breathed his last, convulsively pressing his empty bottle to his breast. She lived alone in her house until the winter came, and, on a cold morning, after a long storm of wind and snow, when the neighbors came to inquire how she had weathered the tempest, they found her lying frozen before the hearth, with a broken bottle beside her. Such was the end,no, not the end; would to Heaven it were, but such was the death of Jamie Kon and Jerinie Kon. Those who walk in their steps, may not safely promise to themselves a more envi- able fate. T is the destiny of the intemperate. His path is down- ward, and a cloud of fearful blackness covers its termination. EVERALLIN. THE ORIGIN OF CHEMISTY, A MANtrscrtlPT, RECENTLY FOUND IN AN OLD TLIUNK. TN the year 1793, during my travels, I sojourned a few days at a London tavern, near to the Parliament House. In the room I occu- pied, there was a statue of a late Lord Mayor, in the rear of which a very slender man might, if he pleased, enclose himself. An idle whim led rue to enter this statue; and immediately after, one of the atten- dants opened the door of my room, and observed, Gentlemen, this room is empty, you can have this : I was thus in prison, and was constrained to be a silent auditor and spectator of the following dis- cussion and novel scene 14 The Origin of Chemistry. I had seen all three of the gentlemen before; one was then a mem- ber of the National Convention, another a member of the House of Commons, and the thud, a well known citizen of the United States. As soon as they were seated, the French member said, ~ rj~~ times are propitious ; I foresee, the close of the century will be melnorable in our annals. The human race are doomed to a new conflict. Yes said the Commoner; we shall have, for a few years, pleasant sport; but if we do not contrive other engines, we shall, ere long, be laughed at, even in novels. True, said the Trans-atlantic gentle- man; I heard, the other day, hms majesty pronounced from the pul- pit, no reality, but only a metaphor. The division, over ~vhich you preside, said the French Inember, will, in the next century, exhibit stranger things than that. At present let us first consider what is best to be donc in Europe, under existing circumstances. Yes, said the Commoner, a happy thought! rrlie fire in France will soon expire for want of fuel. If 1 enter into Mr. , and incite him to declare war, th re will be full employ for all of our family. A happy thought, indeed, said the French member, and nothing easier to be done ; for, with England, peace is only a truce. If you can persuade to commence war on France, I foresee that England will ruin herself, even to utter bankruptcy. I will enter into , this night, said the Commoner, and when he has ruined England, I claim the privilege of entering into the 1~arliament, and through them of erecting a monument to his memory; for our servants deserve a re- ward. Be it so, said the French member;, in the mean time, I will raise up in France, a little stripling, who shall reverse the whole order of nature, who shall drink blood like water, and who shall bury the sons before the fathers have grown old. I will sanctify the days of Robespierre; he was but an epicure, for he drank but one kind of blood, and his little red rivulet shall be lost in the Danube arid Beres- sina. By the help of a northern University, I will exalt this man to the firmament of heaven, and place him among the stars; and so long as he shall drink the blood of the earth, and seize the plunder of all nations, he shall be glorious, and honored, and obeyed; but when plunder shall fail, and the issues of blood close, his own slaves will have no further use for him and his fall will be terrible, and more mean than that of a felon. Hence, we are always sure of that nation. The best materials for our purpose lie there always ready. Very dif- ferent from the Dutch or English, whom you must beat, in order to make them feel; while the French nestle in their sleep, and sleep with their eyes open. I see it all, said the Trans-atlantic ; and only lament that I shall have nothing to do. Not so, said the French member, you can do more than the three plagueswar, pestilence, and famine. You can secretly consume the liver, you can enter into every department of the legislative government, and legalize poisoning. By a p9pnlar tarim you can dispense a quart of poison cheaper than a quart of milk, so that the parent shall substitute the one for the other, and change the beverage of nature, for a burning internal fury, which shall thirst for its own torment, and thus the rising generation shall grow tip volunteers in our service. Your government will aid us ; all wrongs first originate in government. Be it enacted, frequently accomplishes all our work. It is true, the part you are to act, on the The Origin of Ghemistn,. 15 other side of the Atlantic, will not be so brilliant as ours; but it will be more effectual. The present scene in the act of this worlds drama will 500fl close, and the little meteor, which I shall raise up to trouble the nations, will soon disappear, and the world will again repose in quiet. England will then only begin to I)erish, when the war iti Eu-. rope, which she has kindled, has burned out. But when the temple of Janus is shut, we must open another temple. It has long been said that I keep an idle workshop. It shall be so no longer. Neither hands nor minds shall know any respite. I will set the world to work. I will construct a wheel, that shall annihilate both space and time; and he ~vill be a dull one, who cannot, in extremity, prove an alibi. I tell you, my friend, addressing the Commoner, as sure as I am in London, and that you know has become a proverb, the nine- teenth century shall see t~vo extremes meet, in England, and then you may have a holiday. But you, addressing the Trans-atlantic, must wait patiently, and weave a wicker work, and confound the compass in the United States, and then the people will he like pigeons in an eclipse of the sun. As soon as the Plutocrasy gains the ascendancy, you shall then go by steam for they will nurse as many demagogues as their different interests may require, and then the cauldron f cor- ruption will boil more merrily than we have ever seen it in Europe. Our friend Jugurtha came too soon. If he had lived in your de- partment, he might have accomplished his object with half the trou- ble he could have effect~d it at Rome ; for Jugurtha would only have to say, S2ize the carcass, and Divide the spoils. Without the trouble of a civil war, a little strip of white paper, with a name ~vritten thereon, shall do more in one day than contending armies could do in a year. I tell you, in that day, in the midst of universal peace, one corruption shall only give place to another still more foul, and the time will come when it will be more dangerous to detect, than to commit, a crime; and if the public treasury should be plundered of millions no one will dare to expose the fact; but he who can throw the broadest mantle over corruption will be the idol of the day; and a man shall be estimated, not by the good he has done, but by the evil he can do. I tell yoti the time will come, when honesty and integrity will be a dis- qualification, and it will no longer be asked, Is he honest, is he faithful ? but, Can he coui~teract,is he clever, and will he conceal ? Popularity shall be the test of good and evil, and demagogues shall reign stupreme over the minds of men. Glorious times I foresee the period when the innocent and the just shall tremble, and the guilty sleep in quiet. Therefore, do you rest easy for the present I will answer for Europe, even into the next century. I know, said the Trans-atlantic, that the lever, with which your Majesty works in Europe, can find a purchase at any moment. But I do not so readily perceive how it can reach across the Atlantic. The Commoner can easily enter into Mr. , and Mr. , can easily enter into Parliament, and the work is done. Your Majesty, in times past, had only to enter into a French courtezan, and the whole execu- tive government was immuediately mindet your own control. It requires few tools to work with in Europe, but many in the United States. Tools ! said the French member; the more tools, the better your work is done. You will have a wider field for display than Europe 16 The Origin of Chemistry. affords. There are religion, politics, trade, legislation, ambition, and offices to feed every grade of ambition. You can easily make religion a ridiculous farce; and where you cannot make it a ridiculous, you can make it a solemn, farce. That will do very well for Europe, said the rrrans~atlantic. Your Majesty can undertake for Italy and France, and you, ad- dressing the Commoner, can manage Great-Britain. But 1 do not perceive, at present, how I can manage the United States. Nothing easier, said the Commoner I know the materials. Not the clouds of heaven can assume such shapes as we shall soon see. Swedenborg will soon be reckoned a sound man among them, and Calvin and Edwards moderate. The most mad will be considered the most sober. There will be groaning, and dancing, and singing, and crying, and canting, and laughing. Men will serve God from pure spite. D~ y and night will be too short, and churches too con- tracted, for the service. The hills and the forests shall re-echo with sounds that shall send in terror the wild beasts to their recesses. Pol- itics may play chequer-work with the interests and passions of men, but with religion you can poison the blood, and spread a contagion beyond the reach of medicine. True, said the French member, the world never offered the like materials. You will soon see, in all trades and professions, action, and counter-action, and re-action, and underrating, and overrating, and adul- terating, and undermining, and overreaching, and misrepresenting, and falsifying, and simulating, and dissimulating, but no cheating; that word, by common consent, shall submerge. So that when an honest man shall tell the truth, he shall be more strongly suspected of deceit, arid pure simplicity shall have the credit of the deepest subtle- ty. When I shall have tested my experiments in Europe, I will go over and assist the Trans-atlantic; there will be sufficient work for both of us. Legislation will hereafter be our hand-maid, and will ac- complish much of that which has been directly laid to my charge. With little management you will shortly see the best men treated like the worst, and the reverse. A premium will be offered for crimes, and palaces erected wherein to put crimes to nurse. It will be more safe to commit a great crime than a small one ; and the public will be more ready to sympathize with detected villainy, than with suffering virtue. The best laws will be vetoed, and the worst sanctioned. There shall be freedom of the tongue and slavery in the heart; full liberty of speech, but no liberty of action. In short, there shall be repentance, without restitution. But, previous to the extinction of all moral feel- ing, a dead body shall be of more worth than a living soul. Joy to our brotherhood when the dead shall no longer rest in their graves and to the eye of sensibility an ancient grave-yard shall be the most beautiful landscape. Yes, said the Commoner, in those days the Transatlantic will hold no sinecure. I perceive that toleration, in the United States, will be the parent of all intolerable things. True, said the French member, the next century will be an improvement on all past ages. In Europe the days of Herod shall be remembered with regret. The funeral of a child shall be the most gratifying si~ht in the universeto a parent: While in the United The Origin of Chemistry. 17 States it shall be thought worthy of death to enlighten the mind, or to teach a child to read and, in the most moral state of the Union, it shall be penal, even to imprisonment, to teach a black child that he has a white soul. I tell you, the United States shall be the grand asy- lum of the d bris of the world ,the general rendezvous of all evil spirits, a mint of all manner of base coin. It shall be in the power of a tai~ br to send the grossest felon into the politest company of the politest city of the North. So that, in. those days, we shall he relieved from sending any missionaries there. Here, the Trans-atlantic shook his head, and winked at the Corn- moner, and with his fore-fln~er pressed the white of his eye down to his lip. Impossible ! said he ; your Majesty is deriding our sirn- plicity. No people, in their senses; can ever arrive at such a state of society. Why not? said the French member. Set the minds of men loose, and they will always run away ~vith their bodies. The fairest outlines may easily he filled up with the foulest objects. A republic is either the best or the worst of all administered governments. Rogues will generally govern honest men, from a corporation to a kingdom. Just look across the channel, and see what I have done. I protest, I was sick of my own work, and have come here, for a moment, to re- create. If my own empire was not better governed, I would immedi- ately cut and run. But to return to Europe, and the old world. Our emrAre will not really commence, before it is repeated thrice, throughout the world, Alls fair. When Alls fair becomes a first principle, then the Peol)le of this world will afford us a respite. Or rather, when Re- li~ion, Politics, and Jrade, have the same meaning, and Alls fair becomes the universal text, then our work is done. Of the credit of the one, addressing himself to the Commoner, you have already the honor. That has been publicly avowed by one of your chancellors. The honor of the other will belong to you, addressing the Trans- atlan- tic, although it has not yet been openty avowed, it will be in the next century. With respect to trade, it will require all our ingenuity to establish the l)rincil)le of AlUs fair; but once established, thepeople of this world will do our business at their o~vn expense. However, the time is not yet;; ~ve have much to do. The Turks are an obstinate race ; their honesty is proverbial; but the United States will one day find their way to the Black Sea. Let us now, said the French member, discuss the subject of this meeting, vmi thout delay ; for my friends in the National Convention are bewildered, and begin to think I have deserted them. We are all attention, said the Commoner and Trans-atlantic. Listen, then. If we wish to hold our own in this world, we must enter into all trades and professions, and proceed,paripassu, with the arts and sciences. With respect to divinity, that stands ~velI, and will continue to do so: I believe it would puzzle either of us to invent a new system. But in law, ~ve must contrive that justice shall cost more than it is worth; and hence, in England, and in the United States, we have a strong hold in special pleading. The time was, wheh the want of a comma would nullify the best cause. Those days are passed but we are fully compensated in the multiplication of laws ; for every VOL. VI. 3 is Winter. new law favors us, helps perplexity, adds to litigation, and human misery. We never gained a better point, when in England we reared the principte, that the greater the truth the greater the libel; for the time will come when, in England, no one will dare reproach a con- victed felon. In physic, we shall always keep in advance of the age, as we can fabricate new diseases more readily than remedies can be discovered. Murray and special pleading are our two key-stones of law and physic. But a new science is arising, which we could not, in r~ason, have ever expected to have seen. it will not unfold, in all its glory, until the next century. Then, the principle, that All s fair, being established, Chemistry shall rise predominant over the three plagues. I have lately made a thousand experinients, and I foretell that Chemistry, after all the world shall become quiet, shall do more in one year, than war could in ten. This new science will infect the whole world, and attack every human being. A man shall then more surely eat to die, than eat to live. By the miraculous power of this science, every article of food shall be converted into a slow poison; and herein consists the beauty of the invention ; for, if the effects of the contagion were rapid, obvious, fatal, it would soon be de- tected. But, before any suspicion arises, the blood of all mankind will be corrupted, a new plague shall sweep the earth, and pervade every system, from infancy to old age. The communion-table shall not escape; bread and wine, the staff of life and token of peace, shall poison the body and corrupt the blood. The faculty, who know every thing, shall confess they know nothing. There shall nothing escape, which, subject to Chemistry, enters the mouth of man. Here, said the French member, is an experiment on the staff of life ; here is a pound of flour. I will now act the baker; you see the ingredients; this pound of flour will give you two pounds of bread; now it is ready for the oven; breathe on it, a moment, arid bake it; it is now done. What an elegant loaf! Taste it. The Commoner and Trans-atlan- tic each tasted ; and the Trans-atlantic said, This bread, indeed, would poison your majesty. Thus, said the French member, by the aid of Chemistry, every thing that passes the mouth of man, that can be, will be, adulterated ; and the world shall eat and drink them- selves into plagues, of which neither Hippocrates nor Galen ever dreamed. I must now retire to the National Convention; and you, addressing the Commoner, wait on Mr. Pitt. WINTER. SOME moral philosophers, who look narrowly into themselves, affirm that our most social feelings are selfish. Pity itself is, according to these learned Thebans, but an anticipated commiseration for our- selves; and as to love, it is founded on an enlightened estimation of self, for we have small regard for those who love not us. Laughter, toop which, like pity, is peculiar to mankind, these same fault-finders attribute to some momentary sense of triumph, or some other cause of 5elf-gratulation in him who laughs.

is Winter. new law favors us, helps perplexity, adds to litigation, and human misery. We never gained a better point, when in England we reared the principte, that the greater the truth the greater the libel; for the time will come when, in England, no one will dare reproach a con- victed felon. In physic, we shall always keep in advance of the age, as we can fabricate new diseases more readily than remedies can be discovered. Murray and special pleading are our two key-stones of law and physic. But a new science is arising, which we could not, in r~ason, have ever expected to have seen. it will not unfold, in all its glory, until the next century. Then, the principle, that All s fair, being established, Chemistry shall rise predominant over the three plagues. I have lately made a thousand experinients, and I foretell that Chemistry, after all the world shall become quiet, shall do more in one year, than war could in ten. This new science will infect the whole world, and attack every human being. A man shall then more surely eat to die, than eat to live. By the miraculous power of this science, every article of food shall be converted into a slow poison; and herein consists the beauty of the invention ; for, if the effects of the contagion were rapid, obvious, fatal, it would soon be de- tected. But, before any suspicion arises, the blood of all mankind will be corrupted, a new plague shall sweep the earth, and pervade every system, from infancy to old age. The communion-table shall not escape; bread and wine, the staff of life and token of peace, shall poison the body and corrupt the blood. The faculty, who know every thing, shall confess they know nothing. There shall nothing escape, which, subject to Chemistry, enters the mouth of man. Here, said the French member, is an experiment on the staff of life ; here is a pound of flour. I will now act the baker; you see the ingredients; this pound of flour will give you two pounds of bread; now it is ready for the oven; breathe on it, a moment, arid bake it; it is now done. What an elegant loaf! Taste it. The Commoner and Trans-atlan- tic each tasted ; and the Trans-atlantic said, This bread, indeed, would poison your majesty. Thus, said the French member, by the aid of Chemistry, every thing that passes the mouth of man, that can be, will be, adulterated ; and the world shall eat and drink them- selves into plagues, of which neither Hippocrates nor Galen ever dreamed. I must now retire to the National Convention; and you, addressing the Commoner, wait on Mr. Pitt. WINTER. SOME moral philosophers, who look narrowly into themselves, affirm that our most social feelings are selfish. Pity itself is, according to these learned Thebans, but an anticipated commiseration for our- selves; and as to love, it is founded on an enlightened estimation of self, for we have small regard for those who love not us. Laughter, toop which, like pity, is peculiar to mankind, these same fault-finders attribute to some momentary sense of triumph, or some other cause of 5elf-gratulation in him who laughs. Winter. 19 The very feeling of snugness, which a Christian has l)efore his winter fire, when the hail is rattling against his casement, is half the creature of comparison. The pleasure is doubled by contrasting it with the exposure of others, or remembering the chattering of Harry Gill. Thinking of the frosty Caucasus, and visions of blue noses, cold fingers, or frost-bitten ears, make a part of the compound feeling of comfort near a winter fire. hard-hearted as he is in winter, a man is worse in summer, or spring. Winter forces him to be social if it cannot compel him to be amiable. He is driven to society, ~vhich gives him politeness, if nothing better. In ~vinter he is gregariou~ but in summer solitary. In sum- rner you may see him walking alone, meditating, I)erhaps, how he can circumvent his neighbor, or stealin~ along upon a green bank for the pleasure of seeing a trout flapping or gasping upon the green sward. Our virtues, like our complexions, are the effect of climate, and external circumstances. The English are a more domestic race than the Italians, because the climate forces them to live at home. The sun is a good friend, but the stars are better. Long nights are bless- ings. Where is the social state the most perfect ? in the tribes that gather spontaneous fruits under the line, or the races that struggle with winter in the arctic circle? To the Laplanders, theft and vio- lence are unknown, and their annals are without wars. Their pursuits are quiet, and their spirits gentle. They knew Linna~us, hum, per- haps, never heard of Napoleon. iceland, with a withering name and a worse climate, supports an honest, social, and very intelligent race. They have the never-failing resources of literature, in their long winter nights In climes beyond the solar road Where shaggy forms oer ice-built mountains roam, The muse bath broke the twilight gloom To cheer the shivering natives dull abode. In the pleasant city, wherein w~ dwell and publish, the inhabitants are renowned for adapting the things needful to comfort, to the princi- ples of good taste. Perhaps there is one exceptiondress. What is uncomfortable can hardly be elegant. Utility is the basis of beauty. To the hardy animals, that are covered with hair, nature gives a warmer coat in winter than in summer: to man she gives no covering of fur or wool, but she has granted reason, by which he devises means to supply all his wants. Man, however, has erected for himself a different standard from reason, and has become a follower of Fashion. Fashion, then, leads him, in a winter climate, like that of Greenland, to interpose, between his dauntless heart and the elements, a covering of the finest linen; as white and as cold as the mantle of Mont Blanc. The cheek of beauty is too much chilled to smile under a straw hat, in January; and satin shoes upon ice, though they may show a neat foot, yet raise in the beholder less pleasure than pain. He sees consuniption, like a beagle upon the traces of beauty. Death and disease cannot be cheated, though men and women may be dehded. though, On old Hyems chin and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. 20 MAXIM S~. 1. Never speak of persons, if you can avoid it,but if you talk, talk about tkings. TuAT is a more wholesQme maxim than one which is more common, and perhaps more popular, to wit, if you cant speak well of a man, do not say any thing about luui. If slander and scandal be disgusting, the trick of saving smooth things of every pcrson of whom you Sj) ak is scarcely more tolerable; and refraining to converse about those whom you cannot conscientiously praise, is as injurious as spoken slander,if you ever make personal remarks. There s a language that s mute.; There s a silence that speaks, and your acquaintances must be dull indeed if they comprehend not the expressive eloquence of your silence. In this instance, if in no other, it is untrue that ex nihilo nihil fit. One of my friends, whose ready repartee is more conspicuous than his discretion, was not long sioce denouncing, in unmeasured terms, a person whose character could not be spoketi of by a good man, except in terms of censure. His father, a second Lord Burleigh in caution and judgement, reproved him for his harsh personalities, and, in the language of the above maxim, exhorted him to confine his remarks to things. Things ! father, replied he, if he be not a thing, and a very contemptible thing, and a thing worthy of scorn and censure,, I know of no. thing that is. Jf perchance some rash editor, impelled by a mad spzrnt~, ~hould forget the laws of propriety and decency, and .outrage the public by coarseness and vulgarity, and render himself the object of universal disapprobation, name him not! Be careful to speak of things only! Avoid personality in conversation for it is a shocking offence to modern consciences to indiv.idualizeremarks,or grant any man, woman, or child, the monopoly, which either of them may seem to claim, of censure. In the days of the Pilgrims Progress it ans~vered very well for the champions of ~uakerism, (that religion of peace and meek- ness~ to denounce John Bunyan by name, as being in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds ofimmiquity. But the dark ages have fled away forever. Modern refinement has abolished, as equally wrong, the practice of personal allusions, and the practice of imprisoning those who differ from you in reli~ious opinion. Success to the march of im- provement! The day will come when our conscience and taste will be so etherealized, that we shall not be able to talk about any thing, but, like the disciples of Pythagoras, and their recent imitators, the monks of La Trappe, preserve a dignified, virtuous., and everlasting silence. II. An old man, with the vicious propensities of youth, resembles an ancient ruin, deserted of every thing but vermin. I KNEW an ancient sinner, the horror of his neighborhood, whose living example was a most impressive illustration of the above truth. He was a perfect wreck of former vigor and activity; so crippled that he was obliged to help himself along with a couple of long staves,

20 MAXIM S~. 1. Never speak of persons, if you can avoid it,but if you talk, talk about tkings. TuAT is a more wholesQme maxim than one which is more common, and perhaps more popular, to wit, if you cant speak well of a man, do not say any thing about luui. If slander and scandal be disgusting, the trick of saving smooth things of every pcrson of whom you Sj) ak is scarcely more tolerable; and refraining to converse about those whom you cannot conscientiously praise, is as injurious as spoken slander,if you ever make personal remarks. There s a language that s mute.; There s a silence that speaks, and your acquaintances must be dull indeed if they comprehend not the expressive eloquence of your silence. In this instance, if in no other, it is untrue that ex nihilo nihil fit. One of my friends, whose ready repartee is more conspicuous than his discretion, was not long sioce denouncing, in unmeasured terms, a person whose character could not be spoketi of by a good man, except in terms of censure. His father, a second Lord Burleigh in caution and judgement, reproved him for his harsh personalities, and, in the language of the above maxim, exhorted him to confine his remarks to things. Things ! father, replied he, if he be not a thing, and a very contemptible thing, and a thing worthy of scorn and censure,, I know of no. thing that is. Jf perchance some rash editor, impelled by a mad spzrnt~, ~hould forget the laws of propriety and decency, and .outrage the public by coarseness and vulgarity, and render himself the object of universal disapprobation, name him not! Be careful to speak of things only! Avoid personality in conversation for it is a shocking offence to modern consciences to indiv.idualizeremarks,or grant any man, woman, or child, the monopoly, which either of them may seem to claim, of censure. In the days of the Pilgrims Progress it ans~vered very well for the champions of ~uakerism, (that religion of peace and meek- ness~ to denounce John Bunyan by name, as being in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds ofimmiquity. But the dark ages have fled away forever. Modern refinement has abolished, as equally wrong, the practice of personal allusions, and the practice of imprisoning those who differ from you in reli~ious opinion. Success to the march of im- provement! The day will come when our conscience and taste will be so etherealized, that we shall not be able to talk about any thing, but, like the disciples of Pythagoras, and their recent imitators, the monks of La Trappe, preserve a dignified, virtuous., and everlasting silence. II. An old man, with the vicious propensities of youth, resembles an ancient ruin, deserted of every thing but vermin. I KNEW an ancient sinner, the horror of his neighborhood, whose living example was a most impressive illustration of the above truth. He was a perfect wreck of former vigor and activity; so crippled that he was obliged to help himself along with a couple of long staves, f4lazirns. 2~1 while his spine was almost inflexible, so that he could not sit down without at least a minutes exertion in bending his back, and his legs were so stiff that his longest step was shorter than his shoe. You were obliged to scream to make him hear, and his own voice was cracked and tremulous. in youth he was tall and vigorou.s as an oak of the forest; but sen- sual indulgences had eaten him up, and so wasted him away from his early energy, that the wonder was that he continued to exist. He had been ruddy and fair to look upon ; he was inwardly fur- nished with a mind of extraordinary power and brilliancy; fortune Lad given him wealth; and ~vith all th se attractions, he became the glass of fashion and the mould of form, and the object of desire to a numerous host of admirers. But his moral taste, at a very youthful age, was corrupted, and his intellectual taste allowed him to enjoy the very garbage of vice, though to secure this vulgar pleasure, like Ham- lets mother, he sickened of a heavenly bed. Amongst those whom his external charms attracted, and whose per- ception of his real character, his blandishments effectually dimmed, and whose heart was won by his attention, was as lovely a girl as ever died of a broken heart and disappointed h01)es. He sought her, and obtained her, and in his embrace she found pollution, and all but death. From the hour when she discovered by her own miserable con- dition, her husbands beastly practices, the cords of love broke asunder; and, like ships sundered from companionship by the storms rude shock, the alienated pair drifted farther and farther apart upon an ocean of hatred through life. She became the victim of sorrow,but of a sorrow, which, instead of hurrying her rapidly to the supplicated relief of death, clouded a long life with gloom, and made her protracted pilgrimage, a pilgrimage of bitter and unceasing wo. And in the daily necessity of meeting him whom she so deeply despised, and of passing hour after hour in his loathsome society, she experienced the most hellish torture of which a woman is susceptible. He, for a while, suffered the pangs of remorse, as he beheld the ruin he had wrought upon the lovely and innocent confider in his vir- tue. But his conscience was like the nether mill-stone, from which a spark may now and then be struck out, though it always retains its coldness and insensibility. His pause, in the career of vice, was but momentary, and then he rushed onward to the goal of final destruction like some mad chariot, whose steeds, stopping for an instant, to gaze on the prostrate body of their driver, dash forward with increased rapidity. When I knew him, he had retired from the city, where his youth had been so wretchedly spent, to the country, carrying with him his now aged ~and infirm coml)anion. They lived alone, because not a servant could be persuaded to live with him; for, although advanced in life, his conduct and conversation were so abominable, that neither man nor woman wouldendure them. Groaning under a load of infirmi- ties, the miserable couple presented, though rich, such a picture of suf- fering as is very seldom seen; and though I was then a small school- boy, I pitied them, and made many efforts to relieve them, by such lit- tle attentions as a boy could show. Maxims. Accustomed as I was, to regard old age with veneration, and every form of misery with compassion, my heart was almost broken with horror, when I first found that here were age and gray hairs unworthy of respect, and suffering which deserved no pity. I remember the horror, which seized fast hold of me, when the hoary rascal attempted with me some indecent liberties, which betrayed his vile character, and with what mingled astonishment and indignation I broke from his clutch and ran home to my mother. From that hour, I regarded him as a demon in the disguise of human form, or rather as a foul spirit confined in a prison of impotence and affliction. lie hated his wife, and yet her presence was necessary to his exist- ence. If she left his house for a single afternoon or evening, he dared not stay in it alone, and would start off, at his snails pace, to bring her home. On one occasion, attempting to follow her to a neighbor who lived only half a mile from him, he was overtaken by night and a snow-storm, and perished by the road-side, within a hundred yards of my fathers door. We were horror-stricken by this occurrence, and not the less so on remembering that we had probably heard his screams fir assistance as h was dying of cold, although we mistook them for the howling of the winter blast. ILL Laugh and be fat. FAT men are always garrulous. Who can solve this problem in philosophy? You will never find one of portly belly, platter face, and mammoth limb, who talks in monosyllables; much less one to whom silence is an agreeable companion. Perhaps the motion of their tongues is the easiest exercise they can take, and so they keep it con- stantly in gymnastics. Perhaps there is a sort of animal magnetism, whose needle is the tongue, and whose strength is in the ratio of obesity. No man ever talks or laughs himself lean. True, some have killed themselves by bawling, and some have died of an imprudent laugh. So has now and then an alderman, choked with turtle-soup: but these are both exceptions to the general rules. Good-nature is also an almost inseparable companion of both fatness and talkativeness; and it may be that it is the cause of the other two. There is no friend to pork so true as good-nature. Laugh and be fat, says Mr. Adage. And one who laughs freely talks freely also. There is no ally of leanness so faithful as ill-temper.. It operates like verjiiice on the system; and fops, who abominate greasiness, have only to keep in a pet, and they will remain as thin as mummies. If you would diet yourself into fashionable paleness, eat pickles, put yourself out of humor, and hold your tongue. You will pine directly. But beware of talking; avoid sociabili y; open not your clam-shell ;wag not your tongue. Look at our city crier! he has talked himself into the most majestic rotundity of figure; you might use him as a globe. Go into the Mu- nicipal Court: Is there not a magnificent corporation of a crier for you? Depend on it, there is nothing like j-a-w--jaw. Do you wish an illustration of the other side of the question? Step in with me, to No. street, and look there. Do you see that thing sitting yonder between the horns of a shirt collar. Stack is the man. Note him well,for he is a devotee of leanness, silence, Heraldr!,i. 23 and Brummelism. He crawls in behind his dickey and Wellington perfumes his whiskers,and forsxvears politeness, for the sake of keeping silent and lean. On one occasion he exerted himself two days for the sake of being agreeable to a belle, but l~und, with horror, that he must loosen his lacing, and relapsed again into silence. Oh I what a blessing that he is Hot troubled with ideas a moderate portion of gumption would be the death of him ;for, in that case, he must talk, must grow ponderous ; rau~t swell into soznethina~ more than a shadow. But now, shallow and speechless, he eats hi~ olives ~vith an amber-handled fork ,smokes his cigar with an amber-tubes and diets on thin Moselle. Oh! the god-like nature of man Jack Falstaff was an interesting specimen of adipose garrulity and broad grins. He had so much blubber in him that his wit run as smooth as a well-oiled wheel his tongue vibrated much more easily than it stood still. There is a sort of gentle agitation produced, [y talking and laugh- ing, which operates on the principle of a churn it produces butter it changes the thin and floating humors of the body into solidity; and, but I should grow lean in explaining the philosophy of pinguitude. Go to Scrap Johnson, or Harry Finn they are, to be sure, (on Fal- staffs rule,) only second rate men,they are not fat themselves, but next to being fat ones self is the being the cause of fatness to others; they will explain to you the whole theory. HERALDRY. PASSING through the venerable precincts of Lincolns Inn, I saw, op- posite the chambers of Sir Edward Sngden, a carriage, such as might minister to the pride, as well as convenience of a dignitary of the law. Both the crest and the motto smacked more of the bar than of the bench. The crest was a hand grasping a fish by the tail, and the motto was both loyal and legal, pro regc, lege, grege. While I was looking at the coach, forth, stepped the proprietor, with as hard a face as was ever moulded in brass. He was no other than the Lord Chancellor, a man as unlike Sir Christopher Hatton, as 1 am unlike Pharaoh. The motto which he has assumed, I find, in a book of the peerage, to belong also to the Ponsonby and Besborough arms. As these mottoes may be new to many persons, I will transcribe a few. Heraldry, it is well known, is not one of the sciences which teach humility, and the mottoes breath little but bravado and vanity. Gray, who was always fortunate in epithets, well says, the boast of her- aldry. If the knights of Europe ever meet again for a crusade, those of England will be found to have the most boastful mottoes, not excepting even those of Gascony. Thank Providence! we dropped our coats of arms, when we ceased to pray for the king. Were we now to take to them, the most admired would be, an ox couchant on afteld vert, or a pumpkn or, upon any field whatever. The arms of our old sovereign, which are upon all mail carts or coaches, are the lion and the unicorn, with the legend,

Heraldr!,i. 23 and Brummelism. He crawls in behind his dickey and Wellington perfumes his whiskers,and forsxvears politeness, for the sake of keeping silent and lean. On one occasion he exerted himself two days for the sake of being agreeable to a belle, but l~und, with horror, that he must loosen his lacing, and relapsed again into silence. Oh I what a blessing that he is Hot troubled with ideas a moderate portion of gumption would be the death of him ;for, in that case, he must talk, must grow ponderous ; rau~t swell into soznethina~ more than a shadow. But now, shallow and speechless, he eats hi~ olives ~vith an amber-handled fork ,smokes his cigar with an amber-tubes and diets on thin Moselle. Oh! the god-like nature of man Jack Falstaff was an interesting specimen of adipose garrulity and broad grins. He had so much blubber in him that his wit run as smooth as a well-oiled wheel his tongue vibrated much more easily than it stood still. There is a sort of gentle agitation produced, [y talking and laugh- ing, which operates on the principle of a churn it produces butter it changes the thin and floating humors of the body into solidity; and, but I should grow lean in explaining the philosophy of pinguitude. Go to Scrap Johnson, or Harry Finn they are, to be sure, (on Fal- staffs rule,) only second rate men,they are not fat themselves, but next to being fat ones self is the being the cause of fatness to others; they will explain to you the whole theory. HERALDRY. PASSING through the venerable precincts of Lincolns Inn, I saw, op- posite the chambers of Sir Edward Sngden, a carriage, such as might minister to the pride, as well as convenience of a dignitary of the law. Both the crest and the motto smacked more of the bar than of the bench. The crest was a hand grasping a fish by the tail, and the motto was both loyal and legal, pro regc, lege, grege. While I was looking at the coach, forth, stepped the proprietor, with as hard a face as was ever moulded in brass. He was no other than the Lord Chancellor, a man as unlike Sir Christopher Hatton, as 1 am unlike Pharaoh. The motto which he has assumed, I find, in a book of the peerage, to belong also to the Ponsonby and Besborough arms. As these mottoes may be new to many persons, I will transcribe a few. Heraldry, it is well known, is not one of the sciences which teach humility, and the mottoes breath little but bravado and vanity. Gray, who was always fortunate in epithets, well says, the boast of her- aldry. If the knights of Europe ever meet again for a crusade, those of England will be found to have the most boastful mottoes, not excepting even those of Gascony. Thank Providence! we dropped our coats of arms, when we ceased to pray for the king. Were we now to take to them, the most admired would be, an ox couchant on afteld vert, or a pumpkn or, upon any field whatever. The arms of our old sovereign, which are upon all mail carts or coaches, are the lion and the unicorn, with the legend, 24 Heraldry. Dicu et mon droit, or CC God and my right, though his Majestys min- isters and subjects have at least as much regard for what they call their rights, as reverence for their Maker. But charity or I shall fall under the condemnation of the second motto, Ilioni soit que mat y pense. The Wodehouse motto is, Azincour, and strike hard. Lord Exmouth carried upon his arms, that to which he owed them, Al- giers. The Duke of Buceleugh had a progenitor in some pastoral swain xvho assumed the word Arrio. By courage, not craft, boasts his grace of Gordon, and A steady mind is not wanting, to Lord Willou~hhy De Liesby. An eagle does not catch flies, says the motto of Lord Graves; but I know not whether this be in the pride of an eagle, or the security of a fly. Astra castra; numen lumen, is the legend of our old friend Balcarras, and Advance is on the escutcheon of Lord Hill. Avito viret lionore, he flourishes by his an- cestors honor, is borne by the Marquis of Bute and two others; and truly most bids might very properly bear the same motto. Be/la, horn- da be/ia, threatens Lord Lisle. Cause caused it, says the meta- physical Lord Elphinstone; and what will be, will, announces the equally positive Duke of Bedford, or Ohe sara, sara. Gv/um non ani- mum, says Earl Waldegrave, intimating that he may change his cli- mate but not his mind. Courage without fear, are the modest words of Viscount Gage, and Grede Byron is the motto of the great poet. Groin a boo is the Irish howl of the Duke of Leinster, and Fare,fac is the punning of Lord Fairfax. Festina lente, often said Erasmus; and so say armorially the Earl of Fingal and Lords Dunsany, Lowth, and Plunkett. Fight, is the heraldric cry of Earl Roslyn, and Lord Sinclair, and Grip fast, says Earl Rothes, who was probably descend- ed from a lawyer. Pro Magna Charta, is the motto ofLord De Spencer, and Great and good, is the boast of Vicount Doneraille. Strike, is on the ban- ners of Lord Hawke. Ride through, cries Lord Belbaven, and Spare nought,~ the Marquis of Tweedale. Lord Erskine has Trial by jury ; and Vernon semper viret is the pretty punning motto of Lord Ye mon. There are some dozens of mottoes, with the word virtueas Virtus so/a nobilitas, Virtute et fide, Virtutis ainore~ & c. Virtutis fortuna comes, is on the arms of Wellington. The humblest motto I have read is that of the Earl of Carlisle, Volo non va/eo, I am willing but not able. But vanity has devised more than humility. True to the end, assumes Earl Howe; Truth without fear, characterizes Lord Middleton; Vestigia nut/a rctrorsum no backing out, is the bravado of the Earl of Buckinghamshire. Few of the mottoes have any more point than the sayings of Confucius, or the legends on snufl~boxes. But enoughif honor is to he confounded with heraldry, it is a mere scutcheon; so ends my catechism. W. N~TTLffjL]LLViMF J2KV~ IL Di1~IRJNi~Jll19 0J~ GA N ~ 730 S TON J3orTh17l~. ?aiTLteQtS2O Di-~d,I83S fri t7t~X~ i yhfl A1~yLZ~The. 25 BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF WILLIAM M. GOODRICH, ORGAN-BUILDER. PERSONS, remarkable for ingenuity or enterprize, who originate useful inventions and improvements, or who introduce and establish new branches of business and of the mechanic- arts, may be ranked among our most useful citizens. They contribute, in an eminent degree, to the public prosperity, and to the rapid advance of the nation, not only in wealth and pow-er,. but in those attiibutes,.which command influence and respect amo ~g the nations of Europe. To this class of citizens may justly be referred the late Mr. WILLIAM 1\L GOODRICH, whose- sudden and unexpected death took place in September last. He was well and extensively known as an ingenious, self-taught mechanic, and particularly as an excellent organ-builder. His instruments are to be found in the churches in every part of the Union, and even far beyond its limits. They are celebrated for. their- superiority of tone, and are allowed- not to be inferior to those of foreign manufacture. Mr. Goodrich may be considered~ as the parent of organ-building in New-England, if not im America. Not that he was the first who undertook to construct organs here, such as they were, but because he first brought the art to perfection, firmly established it in this country, and thus- superseded tile necessity- of importing this noble and expensive instrument from Europe. lie commenced the business of constructing churcLorgans, about the year 1805. His establish- ment was in Boston,. where he remaine(l till May, 1828. He then purchased a- sl)acious- and convenient building in East1-Cambridge, a little beyond Craigies Bridge,. to- which he removed, and in. which he continued his business until his death. Mr. WILLIAM- M-. GoonItIcH- was born on the 21st of.Tuly, 1777, in Templeton, Massachusetts. His father, Mr. Ebenezer Good-rich, ~vas a respectable farmer in that town. William, the subject of this memoir,~ was- not bred to any trade or profession. He derived very few advantages from education~ He was emphatically a self-taught and a self-made man. Naturally iu~enious and inventive, he made himself, while a-- boy, familiar with the use of tools, particularly those of the goldsmith and the joiner. He even assumed,, untaught, the cleaning and repairing o-f clocks and watches.. If any thing was required to- be done,. of which no one in the vicinity was capable, it was immediately said;. that William Goodrich could do it, and resort was had to him. There- was then, and is still, living in Templeton, a very ingenious mechanic-,. Mr. Eli Bruce, now nearly seventy years of age; He was bred a cooper ; but he tan~-ht him-self several other mechanic arts. He was an excellent mason, cleaned clocks and watches, and made good clocks of brass. He has also invented and made several useful machines. Mr. Bruce had been emj)loyed, on account of his inge- nuity, to assist Dr- Josiah Leavitt, of Sterling, in constructing a small organ, with wooden pipes. After his return to Templeton, he con- structed a similar instrument for himself. While employed in build- ing it, he was frequently visited by Mr. GoQ4rich, then a young mans VOL. VI. 4

25 BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF WILLIAM M. GOODRICH, ORGAN-BUILDER. PERSONS, remarkable for ingenuity or enterprize, who originate useful inventions and improvements, or who introduce and establish new branches of business and of the mechanic- arts, may be ranked among our most useful citizens. They contribute, in an eminent degree, to the public prosperity, and to the rapid advance of the nation, not only in wealth and pow-er,. but in those attiibutes,.which command influence and respect amo ~g the nations of Europe. To this class of citizens may justly be referred the late Mr. WILLIAM 1\L GOODRICH, whose- sudden and unexpected death took place in September last. He was well and extensively known as an ingenious, self-taught mechanic, and particularly as an excellent organ-builder. His instruments are to be found in the churches in every part of the Union, and even far beyond its limits. They are celebrated for. their- superiority of tone, and are allowed- not to be inferior to those of foreign manufacture. Mr. Goodrich may be considered~ as the parent of organ-building in New-England, if not im America. Not that he was the first who undertook to construct organs here, such as they were, but because he first brought the art to perfection, firmly established it in this country, and thus- superseded tile necessity- of importing this noble and expensive instrument from Europe. lie commenced the business of constructing churcLorgans, about the year 1805. His establish- ment was in Boston,. where he remaine(l till May, 1828. He then purchased a- sl)acious- and convenient building in East1-Cambridge, a little beyond Craigies Bridge,. to- which he removed, and in. which he continued his business until his death. Mr. WILLIAM- M-. GoonItIcH- was born on the 21st of.Tuly, 1777, in Templeton, Massachusetts. His father, Mr. Ebenezer Good-rich, ~vas a respectable farmer in that town. William, the subject of this memoir,~ was- not bred to any trade or profession. He derived very few advantages from education~ He was emphatically a self-taught and a self-made man. Naturally iu~enious and inventive, he made himself, while a-- boy, familiar with the use of tools, particularly those of the goldsmith and the joiner. He even assumed,, untaught, the cleaning and repairing o-f clocks and watches.. If any thing was required to- be done,. of which no one in the vicinity was capable, it was immediately said;. that William Goodrich could do it, and resort was had to him. There- was then, and is still, living in Templeton, a very ingenious mechanic-,. Mr. Eli Bruce, now nearly seventy years of age; He was bred a cooper ; but he tan~-ht him-self several other mechanic arts. He was an excellent mason, cleaned clocks and watches, and made good clocks of brass. He has also invented and made several useful machines. Mr. Bruce had been emj)loyed, on account of his inge- nuity, to assist Dr- Josiah Leavitt, of Sterling, in constructing a small organ, with wooden pipes. After his return to Templeton, he con- structed a similar instrument for himself. While employed in build- ing it, he was frequently visited by Mr. GoQ4rich, then a young mans VOL. VI. 4 26 Biographical Memoir of whose curiosity was naturally excited, as well by the novelty as the nature oft he instrument. It was, probably, from the impulse thus given to the mind of Mr. Goodrich, followed by other collateral circuin- stances, that he afterwards undertook the same business, which has been so important in its results. The occupation of Mr. Bruce, as a clock-maker, might also have suggested to a mind naturally inclined to ingenious mechanism, like that of Mr. Goodrich, the employment of cleaning and repairing clocks and watches. Mr. Goodrich was curious and inquisitive, not only in mechanics, but in other branches of knowledge; and he studied and investigated whatever attracted his interest with great perseverance and attention. He had originally a fine musical ear. In early life he improved this faculty, both by study and practice, and he was ever afterwards ex- tremely fond of good music. He taught singing-schools in some of the country towns, and, on one occasion, a school for martial music. This union of the mechanical and the musical taste and faculties naturally led him, when opportunity offered, to undertake the con- struction of organs. It was the united love of these arts, which con- stantly urged him on, made him overcome every difficulty, and raised him to that height of excellence, which he finally attained. While yet a resident in the country, he came across a small volume entitled, Au Essay on Tune. With this and his violin, he shut himself in his chamber, and for a week abstracted his attention from all other pursuits. Lie read, studied, and made experiments. This hook opened an entirely new field to his enraptured vision. He dis- covered theories, of which, before, he had not the slightest conception. lie, for a time, became wholly absorbed in them; and the circum- stance, of accidentally meeting with this book, was the means of initi- atin~ him into some of those mysteries of musical science, which were afterwards highly beneficial to him. About the year ri9S, Mr. Goodrich was a while employed in the workshop of Mr. Pratt, of Winchester, N. H. who had undertaken to construct a small organ with wooden pipes. Here he obtained some further acquaintance ~vith the rudiments of organ-building, and learn- ed to make and to voice wooden pipes. He remained with Mr. Pratt only a few months. rfhe little knowledge of the art, which Mr. Pratt then possessed, was, I am told, principally acquired from Mr. Eli Bruce, or Templeton, to whom allusion has already been made. The relations and early friends of Mr. Goodrich state, that the period of his first coming to Boston was about the year 1799* This visit was partly, perhaps, on business, but probably more for the pur- pose of seeing the place, and of viewing and investigating things, of which he wished to obtain a knowledge. Professing to know some- thing of organ-building, little as it was, and having a taste both for music and mechanics, he soon formed an acquaintance with a few * The time and occasion of Mr. Goodrichs first corning to Boston, is a little uncertain. In giv- ing the writer some account of the early part of his life, he fixed the srrmnrer of 1803 as the begin- ning of his residence here, in the employment of Mr. Benjamin Dearborn and tire latter part of that year as the time of his being with Captain Witherle, at work upon his organ. rio mentioned retrrrrrin~ home in 1804, and coming hark in May of the earns year, to join Mr. crehore at Milton, as is stated in the me,rroir. tt is pretty evident, however, that he came to Boston as early as 1799. Most ol the dates, contained in this accorrirt of his life, were J yen try Mr. Goodrich to the writer, altogether from memory. it is possible, therefore, that some portion of them may not be stricity accurate. William AL Goodrich. 27 persons, whose inclinations and pursuits corresponded with his own. Captain Joshua Witherle, residiii~ in Boston, was in possession of a large chamber-organ, which had been built by Jcnneys, ati en- graver, of Boston, for his own use. Captain Witherle had commanded an artillery company of militia from Boston, in the expedition against Shays, and having then suffered from the inclemency of the weather, was now an invalid, confined l)rincipally to his own house. Mr. Good- rich became acquainted with him, probably from the circumstance of his having this organ, and was invited to become an inmate of mis dwelling, for the purpose of aiding Captain Witherle in making im- provements in the organ. The invitation was accepted ; and after returning home for a short time, Mr. Goodrich took up his residence with Captain Witherle. Captain Witherle had been a pewterer, and had afterwards worked in copper and brass. Possessing this knowledge, lie taught Mr. Good- rich so much of his art as was necessary for the construction of metal pipes; and they, together, proceeded to make their proposed altera- tions in the organ. They, among other things, put a twelfth arid fifteenth and a trumpet stop into it; and Mr Goodrich thought that they finally succeeded in making it a pretty good instrument. There were, however, different opinions about these alterations, and some considered them altogether fbr the worse. One advantage, at least, resulted from them. Mr. Goodrich, by this means, became acquainted with the art of casting and soldering pewter and brass, and of con- structing metal pipes for organs. Captain Witherle had a son, then a bout one.or4wo-and-twenty, a brass-founder, employed at that time, or not long after, in making copper nails, used in newly coppering the frigate Consitution. Mr. Goodrich was sometimes employed in his shop, and ai other times he was occupicd with the father, at his house, in the amusement of work- ing upon the organ. He continued, when in town, to reside chiefly with Captain Witherle, during the principal part of four or five years. After the first year or two, he was occasionally absent, for several months, from Boston. He was, for a number of weeks, with Mr. John Mycall, at Newburyport, repairing and tuning his organ. He taught singing-schools in Harvard, Groton, and other towns. He constructed, in conjunction with Mr. Bald~vin, a fire-engine, at Groton. He was, at one period, probably in 180:3, in the employment of Mr. Benjamin 1)earborn, the maker and inventor of the patent balance, who was then engaged in perfectiiag a new gold balance for the banks. But, except in these cases, his residence was mostly with Captain Witherle, some- times at work for him or his son, sometimes idle, and sometimes tun- ing piano-fortes, or otherwise miscellaneously employed. During this period of four or five years, he had no work-shop of his own.~ Mr. Goodrich, when he became afterwards prosperously established, always spoke with gratitude of the kindness which he had experienced from Captain ~Witherle and his family; of the assistance which they had rendered him,Cand of the knowledge which he had obtained while * This arcoont of the catty resi(lc1Ice~, of Mr. Goodrich in Boston, was derived principally from lhe son of captain Witlierle, now living in this rilt. Mr. Mallet confidently asserts, that Mr. Goodrich, initriediately alter his first corning to Boston, resided a considerable time (one or tivo years) with him ~There is some nncertainty concerning this period of four or five yearo. 28 Biographical Memoir of with them, in the working of metals, so important to him in after life. He also acknowledged the obligations he was under to Mr. Mallet, of whom we are now about to speak A residence in Boston naturally led Mr. ~3oodrich to the churches. His taste, both for music and mechanics, directed his immediate atten- tion to the church-organs. Mr. Mallet, now of Charlestown, near Boston, and organist to the Catholic church there, was then organist at Dr. Kirklands church, in Summer-street. Mr. Goodrich obtained an early introduction to him; atid Mr. 1~Iallet, with his naturally liberal and friendly feelings, extended to him the assistance ~vhich he desired, took him into his organ, and displayed to him the mysteries of its interior, to his inexpressible gratification. Mr. Mallet was then the principal or only person in Boston, who tuned piano-fortes. Having one or two in his house, which Mr. Good- rich frequented, and in which he for some time resided, his attention was attracted while Mr. Mallet was tuning them, and he obtained permission to attempt the tuning an old one. Here, his accurate musical ear., and his former attention to the study of tune and temper.. ament, were important to him., and he tuned the piano-forte to the satisfaction and surprise of Mr. Mallet. lie was, from that time, at the recommendation of Mr. Mallet, frequently employed in Boston, to tune similar instruments. lie also tuned the church-organ, to which Mr. Mallet was attached. This led to his being engaged to put in order and tune an organized piano-forte, belonging to Mr. Preble. The result was perfectly satisfactory to Mr. Preble, and he expressed himself highly pleased with the manner in which it was effected. As there was then but little acquaintance with the internal mechanism of musical instruments of this kind in Boston, the successful efforts of Mr. Goodrich, in these cases, attracted some attention, and considera- bly increased his reputation for ingenuity. lie also, as Mr. Mallet says, while residing with him, organized a piano-forte belonging to Mr. Mallet. In the early part of 1804, Mr. Goodrich returned o Templeton. He taught a music school, for some months, either there, or in some other country town. It was probably at this time, that he superin- tended a singing.school .in Groton, or constructed a fire-engine there. In May, 1804, Mr. Goodrich returned to Boston, and, immediately after, formed a cominexion with Mr. Benjamin Crehore, of Milton, in the manufacture of piano-fortes in that place. This partnership, how- ever, subsisted only for a few months. At this time, Mr. Goodrichs brother, Ebenezer, then grown to manhood, came to Boston, and was induced to enter into the employment of the concern, and to learn the bu~ness in which they were engaged. In November, 1804, the partnership with Mr. ~Crehore was dis- solved, and Mr. Goodrich, with his brother, soon after returned to Boston, where he took a shop, at or near the junction of Cambridge and Chamber-streets. This year, he constructed an organized piano- forte for Mr. Minot, and also a small chamber-organ. About this time, Bishop Chevereux was desirous of obtaining an organ for the Catholic Church, in Boston. Mr. Goodzichs friend Mallet, being a Catholic and an organist, was consm~lted of course. He told the bishop, that he knew a man who could build them an William lit. Goodrich. 29 organ, but that he would Dot be responsible for its g~dness. Mr. Goodrich was introduced by Mr. Mallet to the bishop, and was engag- ed to build the organ. rilbis was his first church-organ. It was begun early in 1805, and was finished and put Uj) in 1806. When, in 1822, he supplied this church with a larger organ, the first was received by him in part payment. This was afterwards sold to Mr. Greens society, in MaIden, where it continued till two or three years since, when it was disposed of to the Episcopal society, in Somersworth, New-Hampshire. In 1806, Mr. Goodrich repaired and tuned the English-built organ, in Brattle-Street church. This was the first time he ever entered a church organ, other than his own, for the purpose of making repairs. It was then, it is presumed, that the original old fashioned single bellows was taken out, and a new one, of the double kind, substituted. This year, also, Mr.Good rich constructed an organ for Mr. Gannetts church, at Cambridgeport, which was finished and put up, in January, 1807. This was somewhat singular in its Pirm. The music loft or gallery was in the rear of the pulpit, behind which there was a window. The organ was in two parts. one half was situated on one side of the pulpit window, and the other half on the other side, giving the appear. ance of a common organ cut in two, with the parts separated from each other. This organ, in 1828, was received in part payment for a new one, built by Mr. Good rich, and was afterwards entirely destroyed by him. It was a poor instrument. In 1807, he built an organ for Mr. Samuel Cabot, jun. and another for a church in Walpole, N~ H. He also repaired the English organ, in Kings Chapel, and put up an English organ in the Episcopal church, at Portsmouth, N. H. This year, or perhaps in the latter part of 1806, Mr. Goodrich acci- dentally formed an acquaintance with Mr. Thomas Appleton, now an eminent organ-builder in Boston. It was owing to this acquaintance, that Mr. Appleton thought ~f learning and carrying on the business, by which so many churches have been supplied with excellent organs. He was then about one-and-twenty, ha ing served an apprenticeship with a cabinet-maker. intending to set up tbis business, he had im- ported a lathe from England ; but his ill health preventing his begin- fling immediately, he sold the lathe to Mr. Goodrich. This produced an acquaintance between them ; and 1~1r. Appleton, being at leisure, was very frequently in Mr. Goodrichs shop. On the restoration of his health, some time in the year 1807, Mr. Appleton became a regular workman and companion with Mr. Goodrich, both in the shop and the family. This arrangement continued uninterrupted till -September, 1811. Dtiring this time, Mr. Appleton married the sister of Mr. Goodrich, which rendered the connexion between Goodrich and Ap- pleton still more intimate. In 1808, (or possibly 1807,) Mr. Goodrich repaired an organ in Christ Church, putting into it new pipes mostly, instead of the old ones. This organ was originally built in Boston, in 1752, by Mr. Thomas Johnston. Mr. Goodrich also repaired, this year, the English organ in Trinity church ; and during the years 1808 and 1809, tuned and repaired a great number of piano-fortes. In the spring of 1809, he removed his business from Cambridge-street, to a shop in Somer- set-place. 30 Biographical Memoir of In 1810, he built an organ for Dr. Channings church, in Federal- street, xv hich, however, was not entirely completed and put up, till 1811. This organ is now, with some additions and alterations, in the Catholic church in Franklin-street, In June, 1811, Maelzels Pan Harmonicon xvas brought to Boston, from Europe, and Mr. Goodrich was employed in putting it up, and in exhibiting it. In September, 1811, it was taken down, and removed to New-York, where it was put up for exhibition. In doing this, also, Mr. Goodrich was employed. It was afterwards removed to other cities; and Mr. Goodrich was absent from Boston till June, 1812. There was due him, as he said, for services and expenses in this busi- ness, a balance of six hundred dollars, none of which he ever obtained. On leaving Boston, in 1811, he left Mr. Appleton in possession of his shop arid tools. On his return, in 1812, he found that Mr. Apple- ton had, soon after he left him, formed a connexion in business with Mr. Babcock, and txvo Messrs. Hayts, under the firm of Hayts, Bab- cock & Appleton. This was a large establishment, situated in Milk- street, nearly opposite the Old South church, for the manufacture of organs and piano-fortes. The building is now occupied as a furniture ware-house. Mr. Goodrich entered into the employment of this con- cern, and attended to the finishing, voicing, and tuning a church- organ and several chamber-organs, which were in progress. While there, he built a chamber-organ for Mr. S. Bean. In 1813, Mr. Goodrich took a small shop near the State-House, and built a chamber organ for Hart, the musician. It is now in a church at Reading. In 1814, he constructed an organized piano-forte for a gentleman in the West-Indies. In June, 1815, Mr. Goodrich gave up his shop, and xvent again into Hayts, Babcock, & Appletons establishment, under a new arrange- ment. But, in the October following, this company failed, and the concern was transferred to the firm of Mackay & Co. in which Mr. Goodrich himself became a partner. In consequence of various embar- rassments and misfortunes, this concern underwent a great variety of transformations, in xvhich Mr. Goodrich always remained a partner, till the latter part of 1820, when the establishment was entirely broken up, and a separation of all the parties took place. While Mr. Goodrich was connected with this establishment, which was over five years, they finished the folloxving organs, viz: six chamber- organs, which went to the southern states; one church-organ for Charleston, S. C.; one for Mr. Edess church, Providence; one for Wilmington, N. C.; one for Mr. Walkers church, Charlestown, Mass. (which has recently been removed and sold for a church in Calais, Me. and a new and larger one, built by Mr. Goodrich, has been put in its place,the last which he ever finished;) one for the Episcopal church in Pawtucket; one for Dr. Paysons church in Portland; one for Springfield, Mass.; and one for the Congregational church in Dedham, now Mr. Lamsons. These eight church-organs were alike, or nearly so, and the price of each was one thousand dollars. The company also built, during that time, two church-organs, with three rows of keys, one for Savannah and one for New-Orleans also, an organ for Church Green, noxv Mr. Youngs church, in Summer-street; and one for the Handel and Hadyn Society, which was removed and sold William JI. Goodrich. 31 last year, when their present large organ, made by Mr. Appleton, was put up. After the concern of Mackay & Co. had discontinued business, Mr. Goodrich remained awhile in the building they had occupied, and built there a new organ for Christ Church, in Salem-street, Boston, putting it into the case of the old one. This organ ~vas finished and put up, early in 1821. For it he had twelve hundred dollars and the internal parts of the old instrument. Mr. Appleton, after the breaking up of the Milk-street concern, in the latter part of 1820, took a shop by himselg and commenced an organ for Dr. Porters church in Roxhury. Mr. Ebenezer Goodrich had separated from his brother, and taken a shop alone, about the latter part of the year 1807. They were now, all three, pursuing the business of organ-building separately, and so continued, indepen- dent of each other, ever after. Mr. Ebenezer Goodrich manufactured, principally, chamber-organs. The subject of this memoir and Mr. Appleton, confined themselves chiefly to the construction of church- organs. After finishing the organ for Christ Church, Mr. Goodrich took a small shop back of Boylston Market, to which he removed his tools and materials. A person was employed by him here, in making organ-pipes; but Mr. Goodrich himself~ in pursuance of a previous agreement, set out for Montreal, to tune and put in order a large new organ, made by Elliot, which had been imported from London, and put up in the Cathedral of the Episcopal church, a year or two before. During this excursion, he tuned and repaired the organ in the Cath- olic Cathedral, and the organs in some other Catholic churches in Canada, and thus became known to several of the Catholic priests. He made other acquaintances ~#id, friends there; and afterwards, when the great Catholic Cathedral at Montreal was built, he received encouragement, that when they were ready to have constructed a large organ, suitable for that magnificent edifice, he would be employ- ed to build it. He always cherished the hope of such an event, and had probably completed in his mind the whole plan, dimensions, and arrangement of such an instrument. Nothing could possibly have afforded him so much gratification, as the opportunity of exercising his skill in building an organ on the grand scale which was contem- plated, and of thus immortalizing his name and reputation. Of this he only enjoyed the hope, but did not, to the great regret of his friends, live to embrace the reality. In May, or June, 1821, after his return from Canada, Mr. Goodrich removed into a building in Llarlaern-place, contiguous to the circus, erected, for his use, by Mr. J. Child, in which he continued till May, 1828. The first organ he built here, was for Dr. Channings church, in Federal-street. This he began in 1821, and finished in 1822. By agreement, he was to have fifteen hundred dollars for it in cash, on its being put up in the church, and also the old organ formerly built by him. The funds were raised by subscription; but, in consequence of the failure of the person who acted as treasurer, just as the organ was finished and put up, payment was not duly made. After much delay and waste of time, he obtained, as he says, only part of the sum due, and finally suffered a very serious loss, lie al~vays expressed a strong 32 Biographical JIensoir of dissatisfaction with the result of this affair. The old organ, after its being thoroughly refitted, and ~vith some alterations and additions, was sold to the Catholic church, in Franklin-street, as was before stated. In 1822, he also built a church-organ, which was put up in St. PauPs church, to be used till he should complete their large organ, which was contracted for in 1821. This organ was afterwards pur- chased for the church in Essex-street. In March, 1823, Mr. Goodrich. undertook to complete, with the assistance of others, a Pan Harntonicon, in imitation of that of Mael- zel. Mr. Savage~ the proprietor of a Museum in Boylston Hall, had kept the latter for some time on exhibition in his Museum, and had made considerable progress in constructing one like it. After his death, it was determined to complete it. Mr. Goodrich was employed, and it was finished in May, j5~4 From November, 1824, till some- time in 1825, he was chiefly employed in the exhibition of this instru- ment; but it was not productive, and, as he often stated, from the inability of his employers to fulfil their contract, he finally suffered a very serious loss. In 1824, between May and November, he also built a powerful chamber-organ, which was commenced for Dr. G. K. Jackson, then organist at Brattle-street church, but was finished, after his death, for Mr. John Sowden. This instrument has recently been exposed for sale at Mr. Cunninghams auction-rooms. In November, 1824, Mr. Goodrich voiced and tLlned an organ, built by Mr. Apple- ton, for Mr. Parkmans church. This instrument is now in the Bap- tist church in Federal-street. In 1825, he repaired and tuned the English organ in Kings Chapel, to which he added a su b-bass. He also put into it a new bellows. This year, he also repaired the organ in Grace Church, New-York, and added to it a sub-bass. From August to December, this year, he built an orga~ for the Universalist church in Providence. He also built an orgah for the Unitarian church in Portsmouth, which was finished and put up in March, 1826. Either some time in 1825, or after finishing the harnionicon in 1824, he made the organ part of an organized piano-forte, built by Babcock, for Miss Joy, a lady of Boston. Tue St. Pauls Organ. In 1821, Mr. Goodrich had contracted to build an organ for St. Pauls church, and many of the pipes were made. But owing to some unpropitious circumstances, the society did not conclude to enter seriously upon the business, till May, 1826. In the mean time, several of the organs, before mentioned, were prin- cipa ly constructed from the pipes and other materials which had been prel)ared for this instrument. Mr. Goodrich began it anew in May, 1826, and finished it in February, 1827. The price was four thou- sand five hundred dollars. It has three rows of manual keys, and comprises three organs besides the pedals, viz, great organ, choir oruan, amid swell. It contains twenty-six stops, and about seventeen hundred pipes, including four reed-stops, viz, three trumpets and a hautboy. At that mime, if miot at present, it was the largest organ in this country, and was particularly remarkable for its open don- ble-diapason pedal bass; a stop, which, till then, had not been introduced here. This is very heavy and powerful, and has not, even to this time, been exceeded, if equaled, in excellence. It William AlL Goodrich. 33 extends to C below the manual keys. That in the Bowdoin-street organ. by Mr. Appleton, is carried down to G, an octave below the manuals. The bellows of the St. Pauls organ is six feet by twelve. The height of the case is twenty-eight feet, aiid its width in front is sixteen feet. Mr. Goodrich spared no pains to render this organ as good and as perfect as possible, and he was always proud of it. In several years practice and investigation since its completion, be has undoubtedly made improvements in in any things;. but the St. Pauls organ may justly he considered a noble an(i stiperior instrument, highly creditable to American talent and iiigenuity. In March, 1~27, Mr. Goodrich commenced two organs, nearly alike, one of which was sold to the old Congregational society, in Cambridge, then Dr. Holmess. It was put tip in the old church, near the College, in October, 1327, but has recently been removed to the new church, built by that society,, opposite the college buildings. The other was finished for and put up in Mr. Gannetts church, at Cambridgeport, about March, 1328. rrhe old organ,. built by him, in 1806, was received in part payment for this, and was entirely destroyed as worthless, as was before stated. In May, 1328, Mr. Goodrich removed to a spacious building, in East- Cambridge, (Lechmere Point,) which he had just purchased and repaired, and in which he afterwards continued his business until his death. The first organ he built here was for the Episcopal church, in Lowell, which was completed and put up in September, 1323. He commenced, the same year, the Park-street church organ, which was finished and put up in the winter of l329~30. r~ he price was two thousand dollars. The one of this organ is remarkably fine ; but the instrument is not, perhaps, sufficiently large and power- ful, for an edifice of the dimensions of Park-street church. Circuni- stances occasioned an unusual form, and a complicated arrangement of the action, in this organ. The organ gallery not being sufficiently deep, and there being a door through the wall back of it into a vestry, which it was desirous to preserve unobstructed, the organ was made uncommonly wide i~ front, with a passage-way through the centre. The keys are on oiie side, within this passage-way; and the action is carried to a much greater distance, and in a more complicated man- ner, than is necessary in organs of the usual construction. In 1328, or 1329, he also constructed the organ-part of an organized piano-forte, made by Babcock, for Mr. Caleb Eddy. Immediately after finishing the Park-street organ, in 1829, Mr. Goodrich commenced two organs, nearly alike, one of them expressly, and according to contract, for the chtirch of Mr. Crosby, in Charles- town, New-Hampshire. This was finished and put up in October, 1329. The price, according to agreement, was one thousand dollars; but the subscribers liberally presented him with one hundred dollars in addition. The other organ was purchased for the orthodox congre- gat ional society, in Dover, New.flampshire, (then Mr. Winslows,) and was put up in December, 1329. The price paid was eleven hundred dollars. In February, 1330, Mr. Goodrich commenced two organs nearly like the two last, with the addition of a trumpet. One of them was purchased by Mr. Flints (formerly Dr. Bentleys) society, in Salem, voL. VI. 0 34 Biographical Memoir of and was finished and put up in the church, in Februrary, 1831. The other was sold to the Congregational society (Mr. Swifts) in Nan- tucket, and was put up in June, 1831. The price was fourteen hundred dollars. lie also, in 1830, built an organ, smaller than the usual size, but with two rows of keys, for the Unitarian church, (Mr. Greens,) at East-Cambridge, ~vhere he and his family usually attended public worship. it was put up in August of that year. In the summer of 1831, after the last three organs were all com- pleted and put up, he repaired and tuned various organs in Boston, Salem, Cambridge, & c. to some of which he added pedal keys. In September, of the same year, he began a small church-organ, with one row of keys, and the case of pine, which ~vas afterwards purchased for the Episcopal church, in Pittsfield. The treble was enclosed in a swell case; but he disliked this plan, as he found it impossible to voice the pipes so as to give them, at the same time, a good tone and suffi- cient power. He never before nor afterwards constructed one of this kind. A.t the beginning of J83~2, Mr. Goodrich commenced four organs, of moderate size, and nearly similar, with two rows of keys, the price of each to be one thousand dollars. The first was purchased by the Congregational society, (Dr. Grays,) at Jamaica Plain, in Roxbury, which was finished and put up in July of that year. The second was sold to the First Baptist society in Lowell, and was put up in the follow- ing August. The third was purchased by the IJnitarian society in Templeton, (Massachusetts,) and was put up in October or Novem- ber of the same year. The other, making the fourth, was taken by the Unitarian society in Sudbury, (Massachusetts,) and was finished and put up in May, 1833, or about that time. Immediately after this, in 1833, Mr. Goodrich commenced the build- ing of two church-organs of larger size. They have, among other stops not contained in the last, a sesquialter, a trumpet or crenona, a bass to the swell, and a double-diapason pedal bass of moderate power. The first of these was purchased by the Unitarian society, (Mr. Walk- ers,) in Charlestown, Massachusetts, and was finished and put up in the latter part of August, 1833. The old organ, built by the Milk- street concern, as was before mentioned, was received in part payment for the new one, and has since been purchased for a church in Calais, Maine. This new organ, now in Mr. Walkers church, was the last which Mr. Goodrich entirely finished. The other, which is similar to it, was engaged for a church, then building by a new orthodox Congre- gational society, called the Winthrop Society, recently formed in Charlestown. It was almost completed, with the exception of voicing and tuning, when Mr. Goodrich was suddenly called away from all the concerns of this world. It has since been completed, and has been voiced and tuned by Mr. Appleton. It was put up, in the Winthrop church, early in November, 1833. Mr. Goodrich had also, in progress, several chamber-organs, two of which were nearly completed. These two have since been finished, ex- cept voicing and tuning, by Messrs. Stevens and Gayetty, successors to Mr. Goodrich. They will be voiced and tuned, and then sold. Mr. Goodrich died suddenly, in the afternoon of Sunday, September lcith, 1833. He bad, two or three days previous, been serving on a lVilliam hi. Goodrick. 35 jury, which had been kept up all night. in consequence of not agreeing on a verdict. He returned home considerably fatigued., and somewhat unwell. On the day of his death, however, he appeared to have recov- ered his usual state of health, or nearly so, ~nd had been, that morning, to Charlestown, to see to something, which he had been told required his attention in the new organ in Mr. Walkers church. lie after~vards returned, and at. dinner time sat down to the table, as usual, with his family. He had just commenced carving a piece of meat, when it was perceived by others that the fork had fallen from his left hand, ~vithout his appearing to be sensible of it. Immediately after, in attempting to step from the table, he was about to fall, when he was caught in the arms of a person present. A direction being immediately given to send for a physician, Mr. Goodrich said that he thought it was not then necessary. His friends then undertook to assist him to his chamber, when he expressed a confidence of being able to walk up the stairs alone. His left limbs, however, were entirely palsied, though he did not appear to be sensible of it. lie also said, that something had struck him on the head. These were all, or nearly all, the xvord~ he uttered, from the time when he was first seized, till he expired, though he appeared to retain his senses during the greater portion of his short sickness. He had medical assistance immediately, and the usual remedies were applied; but he survived only four or five hours. A post mortem examination showed an effusion of blood and water in the brain, which was the undoubted cause of the apoplexy that terminated his life. Previous to his interment, a mould of the face was taken, from which several casis have been since made. The last work, which Mr. Goodrich undertook, after finishing the organ for Mr. Walkers church, was to voice and tune a church-organ, with two rows of keys, built by Mr. Josiah H. Ware, of Medway, in this state, who had formerly, for several years, been in the employment of Mr. Goodrich. Mr. Goodrich had voiced and tuned all the stops, ex- cept the hautboy in the s~vell, and the twelfth, fifteenth, and sesquialter in the Great Organ. He was engaged, when last in his working room, in fitting reeds to the hautboy pipes, one of which he had completed. This ~vas the last labor to which he ever put his hand; and when he left the apartment, it was with the intention, when he should next re- turn to it, of finishing what he had then begun. What was thus left i[nperfect in this organ, has since been completed by another person. The number of church organs, which have been enumerated in this memoir, as built by Mr. Goodrich, is thirty-eight. Of these, twelve were built by the Milk-street concern, and finished during his connex- ion with it. The rest, twenty-six in number, were constructed in his own shop, unconnected with any other person. Several chamber-or- gans, and organized piano~fortes, have been mentioned~ but it is probable that he made others not here enumerated. He also tuned, repaired, and altered numerous church-organs, not only in Boston, but in New-York, Canada, and various other places. It is highly creditable to the present state of the art, and also to its rapid progress under Mr. Goodrich and his pupils, that, during the whole period of his being in the business, and notwithstanding the violent prejudice which, for a long time, existed against American man- ufactures, and in favor of every thing that was English, only three church 36 Biographical Memoir of organs were imported into Boston from abroad. These are, those in the West Boston and Chauncy-place churches, both constructed by Fruin, of London, but said not to be remarkable for excellence; and that in the Old South church, built by Elliot, of London, in 1~22, which is allowed to be a very superior instrument. The latter, when it ~vas set up in the church, in complete order, cost the society seven thousand one hundred and twenty-eight dollars. An organ, of the same size, con- taining the same stops, and equally well built in every part, might 1)robably have been obtained here, at the same time, from one of our principal manufacturers, for less than three thousand dollars. There is, consequently, little probability that the number fif foreign-built organs will be much increased in this city, or, indeed, in any part of the Union. When Mr. Goodrich first undertook to construct organs, there were, it is believed, not more than three or four church-organs in Boston, and there were very few, indeed, in all New.England. There had existed a strong prejudice against them among all denominations of Christians, except Episcopalians. The Roman Catholics, it is be- lieved, had no church in New-England, till long after the French revo- lution, and till the present Catholic church in Boston was built. The feeling of dislike to the church of Englapd had been carried to such a length by our forefathers, that, in all the Congregational churches, previous to the establishment of the Brattle-street church and society in 1699, the reading of the scriptures, and the use of the Lords prayer, were banished from the public services. Even in this church, which was the first to introduce the reading of the scriptures into the order of its services, and which had rendered itself obnoxious to all the other Congregational churches, by its liberality and its dangerous innova- tions, as they were then deemed, the proffered donation .of an organ was declined. It appears, by the records of the Brattle-street church and society, that, July 24, 1713, the Rev. Mr. William Brattle, pastor of the church in Cambridge, signified, by a letter, the legacy of his brother, Thomas Brattle, Esq. lately deceased, of a pair of organs, which he dedicated and devoted to the praise and glory of God with us, if we should accept thereof, and within a year after his decease, procure a sober person, skilful to play thereon. The church, with all possible respect to the memory of our deceased friend and benefactor, voted, that they did not think it proper to use the same in the public uorship of God. This church remained without an organ for more than ninety years after it was erected. But, on the 19th of December, 1790, it was voted unanimously, that an organ be introduced into this society, as an assistant to the vocal music of psalmody, which is esteemed to be an important part~of social worship. This organ was put up the second following year. It cost about five hundred pounds, and an expense of one hundred and twenty-eight pounds more was incurred in importing and putting it up in the chur& h. It was built, if the writer has been correctly informed, by Dr. green, of London. Mr. Goodrich considered it equal, in excellence, to any organ in Bos- ton. It has only two rows of keys; but the stops of the swell are carried through, outside of the s~vell-box, so that the swell is, also, in effect, a choir-organ. This instrument now contains sixteen stop~, William M. Goodrich. 37 and about one thousand pipes. A cremona and sub-bass were added to it, by Mr. Appleton, a few years since. This was the first organ erected in any Congregational church in Boston, and was undoubt- edly the only one then contained in ~ny church, not Episcopal, in New-England. There were two other church organs, of English make, in Boston, when Mr. Goodrich began. Trinity church contained one of moder- ate size, and there was a fine large instrument in Kings Chapel. The first Episcopal church in Boston, now corn monly called The Stone (kapel, was founded in 16S8. It appears, that, it was first called Queens Ohapel; and afterwards, probably when it was rebuilt, the name was changed to Kings Uhapel. Its records show, that, in the summer of 17 13, an organ, (not the present one) was presented to this church, by Thomas Brattle, Esq. which was put up iu the church in March, 1714. About Christmas, that year, Mr. Edward Enstone arrived from London, and commenced his duties as organist, with a salary of 30, colonial currency. This was, undoubtedly, the first organ which was set up in any church in Boston. Its size and origin do not appear. The fine large organ now in Kings Chapel was purchased in Lon- don, in 1756, with funds raised by individuals belonging to the socie- ty. The original cost was five hundred pounds sterling, and the charges of importation, & c. were one hundred and thirty-seven pounds. There is a tradition, which cannot now be verified, that it was se- lected by Handel himself, by order of the king, George the First, and that it was not then a new instrument. The organ was first used in public, on the second of September, 1756, as will appear from the following notice, taken from the Boston Gazette of August 30, 1756, printed by Edes & Gill. We hear that the organ which lately arrived from London, by Capt. Farr, for Kings Chapel in this town, will be opened on Thursday next, in the afternoon; and that said organ (which contains a variety of curious stops never yet heard in these parts) is esteemed by the most eminent masters in England, to be equal, if not superior, to any of the same size in Europe. There will be a sermon, suitable to the occasion; prayers to begin at 4 oclock. The late Dr. G. K. Jackson declared this organ to be the best he had ever touched in America. Its chorus stops are, however, very numerous and powerful, compared with the fundamental stops. The great organ has, in addition to the stopt diapason, only one open diapason and trumpet; yet, besides the principal, twelfth, fifteenth, and tierce (or seventeenth,) there are a cornet of four ranks, and a sesquialter of four ranks. This multiplication of the harmonics, especially the seventeenths, with a diapason so comparatively feeble, renders this organ, when played full, too harsh and discordant. It is therefore seldom played full and, when managed by an organist possessing good taste as well as skill, it is probably superior in effect, though not in power, to any organ in New-England. It has a great organ, choir organ, and swell, with three rows of keys. The long keys are hlack, and the short keys white, contrary to what is usual. The choir organ contains a vor-humana stop, the only one, probably, in North-America; but it has no open diapason or dulciana. 38 Biographical Memoir of The stops are by no means numerous, there being only nineteen or twenty in all the three organs. rrl~e number of pipes, however, owing to the many small ones contained in the eight ranks of the cornet and sesquiaker) is 1330. Dr. G. K. Jackson thought, that the full organ was deficient in the bass; and, in consequence, a sub-bass was added, in 1825, by Mr. Goodrich, the subject of this memoir. He also, at the same time, put in a double bellows, similar in principle to the smiths bellows, in lieu of the old single ones, which were not unlike the common (lomestic bellows. The great age and excellence of this organ entitle it to the somewhat extended notice, which has here been given of it: For the little knowledge of Trinity church organ, which the writer possesses, he is indebted to the verbal statement of a gentleman ama- teur, the son of a former rector. The old wooden church, lately re- placed by a majestic edifice of rough granite, was built in 1734, which, it is presumed, is the year in which the society was formed. The or- gan was imported from London in 1737, and cost four hundred pounds sterling. It was then an old organ, and is said to have stood, previous- ly, either in Salisbury cathedral, or in some other church in Salisbury. It is of moderate size, with two rows of keys, and consists of a great organ and swell. When played full, it has a good body of tone, and all the stops mix well. But the solo stops, played as such, are not good, especially the reeds. This organ was put up again in the ne~v edifice, where it still remains; but it is altogether insufficient in power, as well as in variety and excellence, for Trinity Church. In the other Episcopal church in town, that in Salem-street, there was an organ, built in Boston, by Thomas Johnston, in 1752. It ap- pears by the records of Christ Church, that this organ was originally built in imitation of that in Trinity Church. It had two rows of keys and a swell, and cost two hundred pounds lawful money. It had been depredated and injured during the revolutionary ~var, and was now, whatever it might once have been, a very poor instrument. There had been a former organ in this church, which was probably the first. The records state, that the society was offered, in 1736, by a person in Newport, an organ, for four hundred pounds. A committee was sent to examine it, and actually purchased it for three hundred pounds. This organ was put up in Christ Church, in October, 1736. Besides these four church organs, if that in Christ Church may be considered one, there were two large chamber organs, of English con- struction, one in Dr. Kirklands church in Summer-street, and one in the Old Brick, Mr. Emersons church, which stood where Joys Building now stands. The former was imported by a respectable merchant of Boston, Mr. Nathan Frazier, for his own use. It had two rows of keys, and was, therefore, what we should consider a very large instrument for individual use. The organist was Mr. Mallet, who then, and afterwards, extended his friendly assistance to Mr. Goodrich. That, in the Old Brick, was also a large chamber-organ, with one row of keys. It had a hautboy stop. This organ was after- wards, for some years, in Dr. Codmans church in Dorchester, and is now in the Episcopal church in Dedham. The First Universalist church, then Mr. Murrays, in Middle (now Hanover) street, probably contained a small chamber organ at that time. There was also a small William M. Goodrich. 39 imperfect organ in the Episcopal church in Cambridge. It is confi- dently believed, that there were no others, than those which have now been enumerated. Thus, when Mr. Goodrich built his first church-organ, there were, in Boston, only three or four instruments, which could be justly term- ed church-organs, and only one other organ, of any kind, in all the ad- joining towns. Since that time, these noble instruments have been multiplying, in a rapidly increasing ratio, throu~hout the United States, but more particularly in the northern states. In New-England, the prejudice against them has, within a few years, nearly subsided in al- most every sect. The taste and the desire for them have become al- most universal, and the demand for them is yearly increasing. This rapid improvement in musical taste, as well as in a liberal and impor- tant branch of manufacture, is mainly to be attributed, in its origin and progress, to Mr. Goodrich; to his ingenuity, perseverance, and enterprize, in pursuing and carrying to perfection in this city, the art of constructing church-organs, of any magnitude, and of any form and arrangement. Instead of the three or four before mentioned, there are now, in Boston, twenty-five or more, (besides numerous chamber- organs,) and twelve or more in four of the adjoining towns. These, with the exception of the English instrun~ents which have been men- tioned, and perhaps two or three others, were all constructed by Mr. Goodrich or Mr. Thomas Appleton. Many of their instruments are also scattered over New-England, and the southern states, even as far as New-Orleans; and some have been furnished, on orders from the West-India islands. Mr. Ebenezer Goodrich. who left the shop of his brother William, and commenced the business on his own account, in or about the year 1807, says, that he has, since that time, constructed and sold one hundred and seven organs, and that he has ten others now in pro- gress, in his shop. Of those which have been completed, only six had two rows of keys. Twenty others were put up in churches, but had only one row of keys. Eighty-one were chamber-organs, twenty-six of which had a reed-stop; but the greater part of the rest had proba- bly only two or three stops. Mr. Thomas Appleton has, at the request of the writer, furnished a schedule of the organs which he has constructed, since his separation, in 1820, from the Milk.street concern, in which he was a partner. The whole number, including two now in the shop unfinished, is thirty-eight. Of these, several were unusually large, with three rows of keys; and most of the others were church-organs of the usual size. There were among them only six or eight chamber-organs. Even some of these were instruments of respectable power, and have been set up in small churches. Thus, Mr. Goodrich, and two of those who were taught the business by him, have, alone constructed and supplied the churches with sev- enty-four church-organs or more, properly so called, and many smaller ones which are used in churches, besides upwards of one hundred chamber-organs. Mr. Goodrich first came to Boston, without any knowledge of the manner of constructing church-organs, or any intention of undertak- ing to build them. his early attempts were, consequently, rude and 40 Biographical Memoir of imperfect. Some of his first organs, he afterwards took back at a liberal price, in part payment for new ones, and he either wholly de- stroyed them, or altered them so thoroughly, that they might well be called new instruments. Others he voiced and tuned anew as they stood, rendering them as perfect as was practicable. lie was employed, soon after commencing business, to clean, repair, and put in tune, two of the three excellent English organs then in Boston, and afterwards others in other places. From the opportuni- ties, which the making these repairs afforded him, he derived great and important advantages. His previous scales and l)lans, being mostly contrived hy himself~ were necessarily imperfect and incom- plete. He now had the power of improving them. He carefully inspected the work of the best of these foreign organs minutely, observed the contrivance and arrangement of the several parts, and took the dimensions and proportions of the pipes and other portions of the interior. All, or most of these, he introduced, at various times, into his own organs, and, after due trial, adopted such as he deemed the best, for his own future use. Another source of improvement, was a voluminous work upon organ building, which he fortunately learned was in possession of a gentle- man of Boston, Mr. William Ropes, of whom he procured it on loan, and afterwards purchased it. rrhis was, LArt du Facteur dOr- gucs, par P. Bedos de Gelles, a large folio volume in French, with a great number of plates, published in 1766, by the French Academy of Bourdeaux, as the sixth volume of Arts et Mietiers, or Arts and Trades. This work contains the most minute descriptions, plans, drawings, and dimensions, of every part of the largest organs, accord- ing to the practice which then existed in France. The English have always been superior to the French, in the workmanship and tone of their organs. The plans and scales in this work were, therefore, not such as could be adopted literally and extensively by Mr. Goodrich; but to a mind like his this volume afforded hints and suggestions, and furnished information on numerous points, which, in the then infancy of the art in this country, ~vere of the utmost importance. It may be well to remark here, en passant, upon the danger of entrusting unskillful persons to tune and repair organs, or, indeed, of admitting any one to the interior, when it can possibly be avoided. Even the best organists are generally unacquainted with the construc- tion of their instrument. Mr. Goodrich once mentioned to the writer, that he altered the voicing of an excellent church-organ, in the early part of his business, which he had since exceedingly regretted, as he was convinced that it was a disadvantage rather than an improvement. r1~he keys to the interior should always be kept by the committee who have charge of the organ, not by the organist; and if tuning or repairs are required, they should be done by a proper person, under suitable cautions and injunctions, and under the inspection of one of the com- mittee. An unskilful or conceited person may, from the most lauda- ble motives, alter and spoil the tone of an instrument, made and finished, perhaps, by one of the best and most celebrated organ-build- ers of Europe. The mind of Mr. Goodrich was constantly active. He never, through life, slackened his exertions to attain additional information William II!. Goodrich. 41 in his business. He was always awake to new inventions and im- provements, and always sedulous to discover and adopt every thing of importance, which had not already been introduced. In the St. Pauls organ, he, for the first time here, added to the usual stops the great double-diapason pedal bass, of open wooden pipes, which he even then, as a first attempt, rendered so perfect and excellent, that they have not, to this time, been surpassed. lie very early fitted a trenni- knit to some organ in New-Orleans, or one of the southern cities. He first introduced and annexed to an organ here, the little bellows- like appendage, sometimes called a winfrcr,by which the action of the wind upon the pipes is rendered more regular and steady. lie first adopted a valuable improvement, which he had discovered in some recent English organs, in the form of the brass reeds and of the aper- tures over which they vibrate. In the Park-street organ, he intro- duced a supposed improvement in the double-diapason bass, suggested by an English publication, by which one pipe,. by means of ventages and stops or keys, produced two or three notes. There were some disadvantages or inconveniences in this plan, which rendered it after- wards necessary to remove these pipes,~ and to sul)stitute others after the old mode. In his last organ, that which he left unfinished, there is a new plan with regard to the action. and the wind-chest of the double-diapason, and the manner of conducting the wind to the pipes. Experience can only show, whether this or the former method is best. He had also collected a great variety of the scales of pipes, showing their dimensions and proportions; some relating to various organs of his own making, and others to such of the best English organs in this country, as he had an opportunity of examining. These were lately sold, with his books, tools, and materials of business, by order of the administrator. Mr. Goodrich, as has been already observed, possessed, naturally, a good musical ear, which was improved by early and constant cultivation, till it was remarkable for its delicacy, with regard both to tune and tone. He had not resided long in Boston, before he acquired the art of tun- ing keyed instruments in great perfection. This he practised exten- sively, particularly with respect to piano-fortes, before he made niuch progress in the art of organ-building. Afterwards, the construction of organ-pipes, and that modification or adaptation of the mouth of a pipe, which gives the proper quality of tone, and which is technically called voicing, gave constant exercise both to his mechanical inge- nuity and his musical taste. It is upon this art of voicing, that the fine tone of an organ entirely depends ; and it is this which makes the principal difference between a good organ ai~d a bad one. In this important art, Mr. Goodrich acquired, in this country, unrivaled and acknowledged superiority and excellence. In the merely mechanical parts of the instrument, the work of the cabinet-maker and the ma- chinist, other builders may eqiial him, and may, perhaps, in some thiugs, excel him; but in this sine qua non of the accomplished organ- builder the art, or rather the talent, of voicing and tuning, Mr. Good- rich stci~d in a manner alone, in this country, or, at least, witho~it an equal. It is in this, that his loss xx ill be most severely felt, and with most difficulty supplied. The skill and talent in voicing is most perceptible in listening to a VOL. VI. 6 42 Biographical Memoir of single stop, intended to be often played by itself~ or to two or three such stops, intended to be played together. These are called solo stops. The beauty of the tone, and the equanimity of each pipe in the loudness and quality of that tone, must he observed ; an(l if two or three stops be united, their comparative loudness, and their quality of mingling with each other,. must be noticed. For, when the fnll organ is played, and the loud chorus stops are heard, the beauty or the defects of the solo stops will not be perceived; aiid a very badly-voiced organ, when played full, will sometimes appear very well, the combined im- perfections of all balancing, in some degree, each other, and conceal- ing the separate defects of each. Here, Mr. Goodrichs talent and skill are remarkably conspicuous. His solo stops are beautiful, arid mingle sweetly with each other. They are even, or equal in loudness. The excellence of his organs, and their superiority, are much more perceptible in the solo stops, than in the noise and crash of the full organ. His reed stops, such as the trumpet, hautboy, and cremnona, which in most organs are harsh when played separately, are acknowl- edged to be excellent and unrivaled, whether employed alone or in combination. Within a few years, a taste for noisy music has been introduced among us. Regularly educated performers on the piano-forte arid organ have appeared here from Europe, some of whom have displayed their skill, in~ concerto playing, and in the difficulties of unmeaning execution. The fbll organ has therefore been put in constant requisi- tion; and the more loud~ harsh, and noisy the instrument, the greater, of course, has been its effect. Solo stops, and consequently fine voic- ing, have thus, for the moment, lost their importance and due estima- tion. It would not be surprising, if carillons should come into fashion, and we should be stunned, for a time, with the eternal chiming of a Dutch city. But when this admiration of crash and noise shall sub- side, and a better taste shall resume its l)lace, the beautiful solo stops of Mr. Goodrichs organs, and the harmonious mingling of his chorus stops, though they may be less bold and obtrusive, will regain their former standing, and be valued according to their true merits. High as the reputation of Mr. Goodrich justly stood in this depart- ment, his superiority was not confined alone to the art of voicing and tuning. He also possessed great ingenuity and skill in mechanics. His talent this way was conspicuous in the alterations and improve- ments which he was constantly making in the internal construction of his organs. He was so remarkable in this, that it has often been said, nothing could ever induce him to make two organs alike. Other builders prefer sameness. It requires less time, trouble, and expense, and is much more favorable to considerations of profit. But of this, Mr. Goodrich thought little; his mind was intensely fixed on improve- ment, on something new, on variations from former and common plans ; though, as will sometimes be the case, his variations were, occasionally, not improvements. If, from the peculiar construction of a church, requiring an organ different from the common form and the usual internal arrangement, other builders declined a contract, Mr. Goodrich was always ready to undertake it. Apparent difficulties, and the pleasure of surmounting them, were only stimulants and induce- ments, in his mind, to assume what others had avoided. Williani i1~l. Goodrich. 43 Mr. Goodrich was not only sedulous in the attainment of perfection in voicing and tuning, and in the internal machinery of the organ; he also had paid great attention to the relative proportionsof the pipes, both with regard to the comparative length and diameter of each, proper for certain stops, and to the comparative diameters of the several pipes composing a stop. And not only these, but also the relative size of each stop, compared ~vith each and every other stop, so that the combination of several or all the stops should produce the best possible ellbct. In the attainment of this object, he had expend- ed much time and labor. The various scales for the construction of pipes, ~vhich he had selected and adopted in his latest organs, are the result of his labors and experiments in this way ; and, to a person qualified to understand and to take advantage of them, they would be of no small value. It is an essential part of the character of men of genius and inven- tion, that they are inclined to disregard old practices and customs, and to set light by that authority and long-established opinion, which the mass of mankind reverence so highly. Nothing is so fatal to originality of thinking, as this awe of authority, this sacred regard for custom and the opinions of others. When once this is surmounted, and we undertake to examine coolly and candidly the reason and foundation of things, we discover so much error and deception, so much tha~t rests merely on custom and prejudice, that we are liable to distrust what we have not investigated and tried, and to place a very firm reliance on our own opinions and decisions. If this were not the case with a certain portion of mankind, there would be little invention or discovery, little progress and improvement, few new trains of thought, and a very limited range for enterprise and exertion. But this very quality, which is so beneficial and important, has a tendency, and perhaps an unavoidable one, to render persons opinionated. They are considered, by the world, to he obstinate. And it must be con- fessed, that men of genius sometimes firmly adhere o opinions, and long continue in them, when others, of little genius, but more plain, cool, and practical, easily perceive, or learn from experiment, that they are founded in error. Mr. Goodrich was, by some, thought to be opinionated; and per- haps, in some things, he was so. It is very possible, that he may have made alterations, and what he considered improvements, in various parts of the organ, a few of which may not be superior (perhaps may be inferior) to the old and common mode. But the many actual im- provements which he made, his constant stretch of thought and inquiry, and his firmness and unabated perseverance, together with their many happy results, throw all defects of this kind, if they really existed, far into the shade. They are the price, which men of origin- ality and genius must pay, for the extraordinary qualities ~vith which nature has endued them. The independence and commendable self-respect of Mr. Goodrich, appeared, in his declining to pay the fee, which is sometimes exacted by organists, for recommending an instrument. It is not, perhaps, generally known, that when musical teachers or professors are employ- ed to select a good organ or piano-forte, for a scholar, ~or some other purchaser, it is customary for the maker and vender of an instrument 44 My Dog. to pay a commission to the musical gentleman, provided a sale be made in consequence of his recommendation. Mr. Goodrich, when applied to, refused to purchase the good will of such persons; by which independent course, he undoubtedly procured their ill will, and sometimes, probably, a representation with regard to the character of his organs, ~vhich was any thing but favorable, in addition to this, it is possible that the unsuspecting purchaser may sometimes have be- come the proprietor of an inferior instrument, when a superior one might have been obtained from Mr. Goodrich., at a less price. His reply to such propositions was, That he intended his instruments should recommend themselves. There was another characteristic of Mr. Goodrich, which is so gen- erally attendant on genius, that it has grown into a proverb. This is, an inattention to money concerns ;the want of that faculty, or of the disposition to exercise it, by which property is accumulated and re- tamed, lie was never anxious to be rich; and he thought more of the lasting reputation he should ~secure,, by finishing a superior instru- ment, than of the amount of clear profit which he should obtain by its sale. It was probably from this cause, That he never acquired those strict habits of punctuality, which generally belong to men of thrift. He was exceedingly moderate in his prices~ and very often, for the sake of improving the instrument, added, at his own expense, more than was required by the agreement. Being the first, and for many years alone., in the business, and having an extensive reputation, he possessed the means, with proper management, of accumulating a for- tune. But this was an object he neglected or despised. His own habits, and those of his family, were far from being expensive; but he paid too little attention to money concerns; and, being friendly and liberal, too frequently suffered himself to be defrauded or imposed upon, by the artfid and the idle. He left only a moderate property, where there should have been an independent fortune. It was at first intended to include in this memoir, some account of the origin and progress of organ-building in New-England, and of those persons who attempted it previous to Mr. Goodrich; but the length, to which this article has already been extended., renders it necessary to defer the execution of that intention, till the appearance of another number ofthe Magazine. MY DOG. THE best friend I ever had was a quadruped he was a shame to mankind, (his master among the mass) so grateful was he for favors and so patient llnder kicks. His fidelity was without impeachment, and my confidence in him had no limit. He was the best of followers, and he followed, like Jack Rugby, at the heels. He would have faced a lion to defend me; but he was superstitious, and had some supernatural terrors. Any thing out of the usual order of nature would daunt him, as it has daunted heroes. I had a mask, such as they put upon the actor who enacts Bottom; and when I appeared to Limpet in this guise, all the hairs of his back would rise in terror. I remember

44 My Dog. to pay a commission to the musical gentleman, provided a sale be made in consequence of his recommendation. Mr. Goodrich, when applied to, refused to purchase the good will of such persons; by which independent course, he undoubtedly procured their ill will, and sometimes, probably, a representation with regard to the character of his organs, ~vhich was any thing but favorable, in addition to this, it is possible that the unsuspecting purchaser may sometimes have be- come the proprietor of an inferior instrument, when a superior one might have been obtained from Mr. Goodrich., at a less price. His reply to such propositions was, That he intended his instruments should recommend themselves. There was another characteristic of Mr. Goodrich, which is so gen- erally attendant on genius, that it has grown into a proverb. This is, an inattention to money concerns ;the want of that faculty, or of the disposition to exercise it, by which property is accumulated and re- tamed, lie was never anxious to be rich; and he thought more of the lasting reputation he should ~secure,, by finishing a superior instru- ment, than of the amount of clear profit which he should obtain by its sale. It was probably from this cause, That he never acquired those strict habits of punctuality, which generally belong to men of thrift. He was exceedingly moderate in his prices~ and very often, for the sake of improving the instrument, added, at his own expense, more than was required by the agreement. Being the first, and for many years alone., in the business, and having an extensive reputation, he possessed the means, with proper management, of accumulating a for- tune. But this was an object he neglected or despised. His own habits, and those of his family, were far from being expensive; but he paid too little attention to money concerns; and, being friendly and liberal, too frequently suffered himself to be defrauded or imposed upon, by the artfid and the idle. He left only a moderate property, where there should have been an independent fortune. It was at first intended to include in this memoir, some account of the origin and progress of organ-building in New-England, and of those persons who attempted it previous to Mr. Goodrich; but the length, to which this article has already been extended., renders it necessary to defer the execution of that intention, till the appearance of another number ofthe Magazine. MY DOG. THE best friend I ever had was a quadruped he was a shame to mankind, (his master among the mass) so grateful was he for favors and so patient llnder kicks. His fidelity was without impeachment, and my confidence in him had no limit. He was the best of followers, and he followed, like Jack Rugby, at the heels. He would have faced a lion to defend me; but he was superstitious, and had some supernatural terrors. Any thing out of the usual order of nature would daunt him, as it has daunted heroes. I had a mask, such as they put upon the actor who enacts Bottom; and when I appeared to Limpet in this guise, all the hairs of his back would rise in terror. I remember My Dog. 45 that once, when I bathed in the red-faced millers pond, the poor brute whined piteously when I had stripped to the shirt. When I domed that, he uttered one long howl, and scampered like a march hare over the hill. He had no idca of me in the abstract; his conception of me was made up of coat and pantaloons. Every man is a hero to his dog if not to his valet, and the feeling is reciprocal; every mans dog is the best. A man is more willing to admit the good qualities of his dog., though he may not praise his neigh- bor; towards the brute his tongue is tied neither by jealousy nor envy. A patriot will sooner fight for his dog than for his country. Perhaps he is the more prompt to battle, as the object is less worthy, as the most worthless child has ever the greatest share of parental affection. A man, that will take the law of a bully who strikes him, will do in- stant battle with a miscreant who kicks his dog. I once sa~v a ped- dling son of Connecticut pounded, as I would not poruid hemp, for a cur that I would not put in the tread-mill. Love me, love my dog, is a proverb deeply founded in canine and human nature. When I would make a favorable impression upon a man that dislikes me, I praise his dogif to my misfortune, he keep none, I have to buy candy for his children. I was once riding in a coach with five other personsa German, a Frenchman, an Englishman, a lady and her dog, whom she had prob- ably selected for better qualities than beauty ; for a more ngly hound I never saw. The Frenchman won the lady~s favor by patting the dog; that the Englishman flattered neither the lady nor tier (Jog, it is needless to state. I maintained neutrality, though I abhorred the cur. Snap was his name, and to snap was his nature; without a mailed glove I would not have patted his head. In disposition arid feature, he was, aniong dogs, like Diogenes among men; but when I looked in the ladys face, I more than once caught myself thinking that it was rather a pretty dog. My description is unlike its subject: it has neither head nor tail. I ramble, indeed, like my dog. lie adapts himself more to his in asters present humors than can be expected from any other domestic. He watches my face; and when he sees it stern, slinks under the table; but when he beholds it placid, he comes to my chair, and edges his cold nose under my hand. If I pat him, he has no more to wish; it con- fers upon him as much happiness as his nature permits him to enjoy. his morals are as good as his understanding; he knows better than other mens dogs, and perhaps as well as other men, the distinctions of ~neum and tuum. I have known him stick to his principles in the face of great temptation. He never worries sheep., barks at beggars, domineers with a stiff tail over smaller dogs, or runs after shadows like his master. To me he owes his moral habits, and to my son his tricks. These are, to bring my slippers when I yawn in the evening, to roll over three times, to walk upon his hinder legs, to carry a basket like little Red Ridinghood, and to hold a piece of meat upon his nose till the donor counts ten. Dog has as much individuality of character as man : there are far greater distinctions among them than those of Mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. 46 The Lady of Ruthven. A dog has more character than a rabbit. Read Cowpers account of the different dispositions of his two leverets, and believe that it exists in a much greater degree iii the canine race. All dogs serve hard roasters; they were given to man for friends, and he has made them slaves. Their food is crusts, bones, and the crumbs that fall from the table; their reward is often blows, and no gatitude or mercy saves them from the halter when their teeth fail longer to serve ungrateful masters. history is full of the great actions of (logs: this justice only they obtain, to be praised while they are neglected. They are ever ready in works of daring and mercy, from which man shrinks, with all his intellect and all his philanthropy. In every distant and dissimilar region, the dog adapts himself to service. He dra~vs the Esquimaux over plains of ice; he mangles his fellow, to amuse the Englishman; he bides the pitiless storms of the Alps, and guides the lost to the hospice of St. Bernard; and he rescues the drowning fisherman of Newfbundland. THE LADY OF RUTHVEN. hAil, to thee, fair, noble lady Much I marvel who art thou, With thy bright eye, clear and steady, And thy broad resplendent brow! Well becomes the Spanish bonnet Those dark lucks that woo the mh~d, And the plume that flutters on it, Is not freer than thy mind. Ruthvens lady,saith it rightly? Scotland owns the ancient name, Many a Knight that bore him knightly, Many a bright and beauteous dame. Yet, methinks, those haughty glances Suit not our degenerate days; Knights no longer splinter lances, Bards no longer sing their praise. Trumpets hushed, and folded banners, Mammons stamp on beautys brow, Feeble men, and selfish manners, These things suit not such as thou! Would I knew her lofty story, How she loved) and how she died, Sure I am t was one of glory; Sure I am t was one of pride: For die soul, on every feature, Looks so high and so serene, Say thou wast a glorious creature, Wheresoeer thy lot has been.

46 The Lady of Ruthven. A dog has more character than a rabbit. Read Cowpers account of the different dispositions of his two leverets, and believe that it exists in a much greater degree iii the canine race. All dogs serve hard roasters; they were given to man for friends, and he has made them slaves. Their food is crusts, bones, and the crumbs that fall from the table; their reward is often blows, and no gatitude or mercy saves them from the halter when their teeth fail longer to serve ungrateful masters. history is full of the great actions of (logs: this justice only they obtain, to be praised while they are neglected. They are ever ready in works of daring and mercy, from which man shrinks, with all his intellect and all his philanthropy. In every distant and dissimilar region, the dog adapts himself to service. He dra~vs the Esquimaux over plains of ice; he mangles his fellow, to amuse the Englishman; he bides the pitiless storms of the Alps, and guides the lost to the hospice of St. Bernard; and he rescues the drowning fisherman of Newfbundland. THE LADY OF RUTHVEN. hAil, to thee, fair, noble lady Much I marvel who art thou, With thy bright eye, clear and steady, And thy broad resplendent brow! Well becomes the Spanish bonnet Those dark lucks that woo the mh~d, And the plume that flutters on it, Is not freer than thy mind. Ruthvens lady,saith it rightly? Scotland owns the ancient name, Many a Knight that bore him knightly, Many a bright and beauteous dame. Yet, methinks, those haughty glances Suit not our degenerate days; Knights no longer splinter lances, Bards no longer sing their praise. Trumpets hushed, and folded banners, Mammons stamp on beautys brow, Feeble men, and selfish manners, These things suit not such as thou! Would I knew her lofty story, How she loved) and how she died, Sure I am t was one of glory; Sure I am t was one of pride: For die soul, on every feature, Looks so high and so serene, Say thou wast a glorious creature, Wheresoeer thy lot has been. 47 THE METEORIC SHOWER. ON the 13th of November, the celestial spaces exhibited one of the most magnificent and sul)lime phenomena, which has been witnessed l)y the men of this generation. By the most of those who saw, or heard of it for the first time, it was supposed to be unprecedenteda new and original elemental exhibition, designed, according to the va- rious modes of thinking, or not thinking, for the amusement, instruc- tion, or warning of mankind. The perplexities of men were very much relieved, when, on looking into the records of the past, it was found that such things had been before ; that former ages had seexi the heav- ens on fire, and still the steady course of nature had moved on undis- turbed and unaltered. There is no reason to doubt, that phenomena of this kind have always been among the usual, though seldom observed or unrecorded exhibitions of the laws of nature. The causes, whatever they may be, which produced this, have been always operat- ing, and must have produced, in their regular or fortuitous intervals, similar phenomena. Those causes, and the manner of their action, are, at present, confessedly beyond the reach of philosophy; their un- frequent occurrence, th~ excitement under which observations have been made, and the consequent imperfection of those observations, have prevented any certain understanding of their nature or origin. The recent phenomenon was very extensively visible, and its various aspects seem to have been noted with considerable precision. Fiomn the multitude and variety of observations, it is not improbable that philosophers will be enabled to make a nearer approximation to a just theory of meteors than has yet been effected. In every vie~v, this oc- currence is especially worthy of notice, whether as a subject of philo- sophical speculation, or a theme for poetic musings or devotional aspi- rations. It is not the purpose of this article to speculate or poetize to propose new theories, or pronounce decidedly upon old ones ;but merely to collect, in a brief space, the results of the observations, made in different places and by various persons, of the most remarka- ble phenomenon of this century. We had not the good fortune ourselves to witness the magnificent spectacle of November 13, being then a fast prisoner in the land of dreams. We are, therefore, obliged to derive our ideas and descrip- tions from the accounts of those, who were happy enough to be called or kept from their pillows to witness this glorious flashing of the elements. The general description of the phenomenon is that of in- numerable meteors, or, as they are commonly called, shooting stars, in rapid succession, and for a long space of time, darting down the heav- ens, filling them with light, leaving behind them long trains of bright- ness, and exploding in the most brilliant coruscations. So countless was the number of these meteors, that their fall has been variously represented as a shower of fire, a storm of fire,a shower of meteors, a starry shower. The least excited observers speak of the heavens being streaked with liquid fire,of the atmosphere above and around rolling up and kindling into innumerable balls of rolling fire,and other comparisons equally emphatic. It is obvious, however, that neither language, nor the pencil, can adequately picture

47 THE METEORIC SHOWER. ON the 13th of November, the celestial spaces exhibited one of the most magnificent and sul)lime phenomena, which has been witnessed l)y the men of this generation. By the most of those who saw, or heard of it for the first time, it was supposed to be unprecedenteda new and original elemental exhibition, designed, according to the va- rious modes of thinking, or not thinking, for the amusement, instruc- tion, or warning of mankind. The perplexities of men were very much relieved, when, on looking into the records of the past, it was found that such things had been before ; that former ages had seexi the heav- ens on fire, and still the steady course of nature had moved on undis- turbed and unaltered. There is no reason to doubt, that phenomena of this kind have always been among the usual, though seldom observed or unrecorded exhibitions of the laws of nature. The causes, whatever they may be, which produced this, have been always operat- ing, and must have produced, in their regular or fortuitous intervals, similar phenomena. Those causes, and the manner of their action, are, at present, confessedly beyond the reach of philosophy; their un- frequent occurrence, th~ excitement under which observations have been made, and the consequent imperfection of those observations, have prevented any certain understanding of their nature or origin. The recent phenomenon was very extensively visible, and its various aspects seem to have been noted with considerable precision. Fiomn the multitude and variety of observations, it is not improbable that philosophers will be enabled to make a nearer approximation to a just theory of meteors than has yet been effected. In every vie~v, this oc- currence is especially worthy of notice, whether as a subject of philo- sophical speculation, or a theme for poetic musings or devotional aspi- rations. It is not the purpose of this article to speculate or poetize to propose new theories, or pronounce decidedly upon old ones ;but merely to collect, in a brief space, the results of the observations, made in different places and by various persons, of the most remarka- ble phenomenon of this century. We had not the good fortune ourselves to witness the magnificent spectacle of November 13, being then a fast prisoner in the land of dreams. We are, therefore, obliged to derive our ideas and descrip- tions from the accounts of those, who were happy enough to be called or kept from their pillows to witness this glorious flashing of the elements. The general description of the phenomenon is that of in- numerable meteors, or, as they are commonly called, shooting stars, in rapid succession, and for a long space of time, darting down the heav- ens, filling them with light, leaving behind them long trains of bright- ness, and exploding in the most brilliant coruscations. So countless was the number of these meteors, that their fall has been variously represented as a shower of fire, a storm of fire,a shower of meteors, a starry shower. The least excited observers speak of the heavens being streaked with liquid fire,of the atmosphere above and around rolling up and kindling into innumerable balls of rolling fire,and other comparisons equally emphatic. It is obvious, however, that neither language, nor the pencil, can adequately picture 48 The Mieteoric Shower. the grandeur and magnificence of the scene. Imagination comes far short of its sublime reality, and is content to leave to sober philosophy the task of description. It may be doubted, whether any description his surpassed, in accuracy and impressiveness, that of the old negro in Virginia, who remarked It is awful, indeed, sir,it looked like ripe crah.apples falling from the trees, when shaking them for cider. The meteors do not in general appear to have exhibited any appear- ances essentially different from the ordinary shooting stars, which every one frequently sees, in a bright evening. They all left behind them trains of light, which continue(l, for longer or shorter periods, seldom exceeding seconds, after the meteor had disappeared, and grad. ually faded away. The meteors also differed in size and brilliancy, some seeming little more than mere points, others were larger and brighter than Jupiter or Venus. Professor Olmsted, of New-ha- yen, mentions one as large as the moon. Two also are recorded as seen at Richmond, Virginia, of uncommon size, which exhibited very singular and beautiful appearances. Both were about the size of a six-inch globe. One of these large meteors darted to the North- East, leaving behind it a train of light apparently two or three hundred yards in length, and threw sparks io every direction, until it exploded in a thousand brilliant particles. This beautiful meteor continued in its path of light, while sixty-three were counted by the observer. The other referred to, equal in size and brilliancy, shot to the South-East, and continued its course while one hundred and thirty-seven were counted. The train of this last was rather shorter than that of the first. The observer remarks, what was not generally perceived, that a crack- ing noise attended both. In Newton, New-Jersey, one observer reported that he saw a dark spot, like a cloud, which gradually grew darker and smaller, until it burst, arid produced a brilliant and extended flash of light. No meteors fell from it. Another person at the same place saw a body of light in the East, resembling the disk of the sun, seen through a cloudy atmo- sphere. This gradually grew dimmer and more indistinct, until it finally disappeared It does not appear that these appearances were seen in any other place. in Warren, Ohio, a luminous spot was observed in the North-East, resembling the new moon. It then assumed the appearance of the Italic 5, was exceedingly brilliant, and apparently was fifteen or twen- ty feet in length. But the most singular of these meteors was that which, in some of the accounts, is called the serpent, and is described by Piofessor Olin- sted. This was a ball, which shot off in a North-West direction, and exploded near the star Gapella, in the Goat. This left, just behind the place of its explosion, a long train of light of peculiar beauty. It ~vas at first straight but it soon began to contract in length and extend in breadth, till it assumed the appearance of a serpent folding itself up, until, at last, it appeared like a small luminous cloud of vapor. This cloud was carried by the wind to the South-East, opposite to the direc- tion of the meteor, and remained in sight several minutes. But the ordinary appearance of the meteors was that of globes of fire, of various sizes, which seemed to fall from a point near the zenith, towards the horizon, in every direction. Their course is generally The Mieteoric Shower. 49 described as the arc of a circle; but to some observers they seemed to fall perpendicularly. Others affirm that they moved horizontally; and this is not improbable, as a body movin~ through the air, in a horizontal direction, would appear to be falling in a curve line. None of the meteors were seen less than ten degrees above the horizon, but all disappeared above that point. The duration of this extraordinary meteoric shower, was, at least, six hours. An unusual number of falling stars was noticed, in some places, on the evening of the 12th, though they excited no particular observation at the time. The shooting of the meteors was observed, in some l)laces, soon after midnight, and continued with increasino~ numbers and frequency, until between four and five, which seems to have been the period of the highest illumination. From that time, the number visible gradually diminished as the day advanced. A few bright ones shot across the sky, and left their luminous traces on the morning heavens, and were lost to sight only when the day- star ~vas hidden in the splendor of the rising sun. The light of many of these meteors was very vivid, and illumined the atmosphere as intensely as a flash of lightning. The light of others was very faint. Some disappeared suddenly, without any ap- parent explosion, while others,, after tracing their lines of light along the sky, would burst with the most brilliant coruscations. The light of their track was generally, though not uniformly, white. The light of the Serpent was prismatic, with a predominance of blue ; and one me- teor, of nincomnion size and splendor, was seen to burst in a north-west direction, and burn with a blue flame. The extent, through which this phenomenon was witnessed, is not yet ascertained. It is certain that it was seen. through nearly the whole extent of the United States, and for several hundred miles at sea. It is probable that it was as extensive as that of 1799, which it so nearly resembles in all its circumstances. The best account of that meteoric shower is to be found in Humboldts Personal Narrative; and his description accords, remarkably, with that of the recent phe- nomenon. That distinguished arid scientific traveler was at Cumana, in South-America, when the exhibition occurred. He afterwards as- certaired that it was also visible at Weimar, in Germany, and in La- brador and Greenland, with equal brilliancy. How far to the west it was visible, could not be known ; but its known limits included a space of nine hundred and twenty-one thousand square leagues. Prob- ably the recent phenomenon was not less extensive. The phenome- non of 1799, occurred on the 12th of November. This may be re- garded, by many, as worthy of remark ; and it may be, too, that philoso- phy, in her riper age, may draw many important inferences from these rerriarkable coincidences. In most places, where the fall of meteors was noticed,. they were not observed to be attended or followed by any audible explosion. Most of the observers state, mlistinctly, that no sound was heard. The dart- inr of the meteors was as silent as it was magnificent. In a few places, it is asserted, that a sound was heard, like that of a distant rocket and, in one case, the time between the explosion and the supposed re- port was counted, and found to he twenty seconds, making the dis- tance of the meteor about five miles. This might be supposed to be VOL. VI. 7 50 The Meteoric Shower. auricular deception. The imagination was intensely awake at such a moment. All expected the thunder to follow the flash of the lightning; and it is not stran~e that the thunder should he heard to break on some ears more sensitive than the rest, though, to the rest, all were silent. But we were rather staggered in our opinion of mistake, when we find it stated, in an account from Charleston, S. C. that frequent explosions were heard, hke the firing of small-arms, and that one meteor, of ex- traordinary size, exploded with a noise like a cannon. The current of testimony is certainly against any audible explosions. We know not that the fact is otherwise important, than as assisting in determin- ing the height of the meteors. If the noise of their explosion con d he heard, they must have been nearer the earth than many other cir- cumstances would seem to indicate. The question of their composi- tion may also, perhaps, be affected by this fact. It was every where remavked, that the atmosphere was uncommonly pure and clear, and that the stars shone with unusual brilliancy, in d ic ati u g a highly electric state of the atmosphere. In some places, a thick, dark haze rested upon the horizon, several degrees below the point, whence the meteors seemed to proceed. This might undoubt- edly have been noticed in other places, if the attention of observers had been directed to it. It is not an unfrequent appearance of the at- mosphere in the clearest evenings. We have deferred, till now, a notice of the most important fact, in a philosophical view, in relation to this phenomenon. The meteors, wherever observed., all seemed to proceed from a fixed point in the heavens, from which they shot forth in all directions, like the radii of a circle from its centre, following the arch of the sky, as Professor Olin- sted says, towards the horizon. None returned on the path in which it set forth, and none crossed the track of the other. There was no ming- ling or confusion. In Buffalo, New-York, and Maysville, Kentucky, it is said that they shot in no uniform direction; and a Concord paper asserts, that they shot from the horizon to the zenith, and in every other direction. But, to nearly every observer, they appeared as we have stated. We can have no hesitation, then, in attributing these few opposing observations to ocular deception, and an excited imagination, and considering it as established that there was a fixed point in the heavens, from which all the meteors radiated. There is some diversity in the statements, concerning the precise position of this radiating point, though, in all cases, it is placed not far distant from the zenith of the observer. In Wooster, Ohio, it seemed to be in the zenith. In Washington, and Lynchbumg, Virginia, a little south-east of the zenith; and in New-York, the radiating point was sup- posed to be about fifteen degrees south~east. In these cases, the posi- tion of the centre of radiation does not appear to have been verified by referring it to the fixed stars. But Professor Olmsted, to whose account we have frequently referred, and who seems to have noticed the phenom- enon with uncommon accuracy, found that the radiating point was, at six oclock, within the bend of the Sickle in the constellation Leo, a little xvest of the star Gamma Leonis, and near the bright star Regu- lus, or the Lions Heart. The observations of an observer at Provi- dence coincided precisely with those of Professor Olmsted. By re- ferring to the celestial globe, it was found that the precise position of The Meteoric Shower. 51 the point of radiation, as indicated by the above observations, was twenty degrees eighteen minutes south of the zenith. At Augusta, Georgia, the meteors are said to have commenced at all points of ele- vation above the horizon but that the lines of their directions, if ex- tended back, would have met in the zenith. The difference in the zenith distance, in any two places, does not appear to have much ex- ceeded twenty degrees. Now, if the same series of meteors were seen at each place, and the same radiating point, it is evident that they must have been at a vast height above the atmosphere of the earth. The radiating centre of the meteors of 1799, or rather the various zenith distances of the me- teors of 1799, do not appear to have been observed. Yet, without re- gard to this, Humboldt calculated that, in order to be visible over so great an extent of the earths surface, they must have been about four- teen hundred miles distant from the earth. These must have been at a vastly greater distance, on the supposition that all proceeded from a single radiating centre. Admitting the observation, taken at Augusta, to be correct, and the centre of radiation of the meteors to have been in the zenith of that place, the observations at New-Haven and Providence, which are undoubtedly correct, would place that centre at the distance of several thousand miles. An important fact, noted by Professor Olmsted,goes to confirm the opinion of a very great distance. having fixed the radiating point in Leo, he continued his observations for an hour, and found the point st~tionary in the same part of Leo, though that constellation had, in the mean time, moved westward fifteen de- grees. This shows that the radiating point was above the region of the atmosphere, and unaffected by the rotation of the earth. But to avoid the inference from this fact, it has been supposed, that the me- teors were carried westward by the ~vind. It must, of course, be as~ sumed that the velocity of the wind was precisely equivalent to the rotary motion of the eartha process of reasoning which seems hard- ly allowable in the cautious speculations of philosophy. Again, it is supposed that the apparent radiant point was not the same in all places, and, of course, that the same meteors ~vere not seen in all places. If the radiant point was in the zenith at Augusta, and also at Wooster, Ohio, it is evident that it could not be the same ra- diant point, and that a different set of meteors was seen at each place. A good deal of difficulty attends inquiry into this phenomenon, from not knowing those by whom the observations were made. They were not made, in all cases, by scientific men, who thoroughly understood the grand points of observation, and were familiar with physical phenomena and their causes. The observations of ordinary spectators, will, of necessity, be inaccurate and imperfect, influenced, in a great degree, by an excited imagination, and to be made the foundations of philosophical reasoning, only as they correspond with those of more practised and scientific observers. To apply these re- marks, if the radiatint~ centre of the meteors has been accurately fixed by one or more men of science, on whose observations we have a right to place confidence, and the majority of other observations, by mak- ing the necessary allowances, coincides with it, we are not to avoid the result of those observations, by giving too much weight to others, which seem to lead to a different conclusion. With a trifling allow- 52 The Meteoric iSltower. ance, most of the observations, made in the Atlantic States, are consist- ent with that, ~vhich fixed the radiating centre of the meteoric shower near the zenith of Augusta, and placed it far beyond the earths at- mosphere. We prefer, therefore, to suppose an error in the observa- tions in Ohio, than to admit the theory of two or more radiating cen- tresa theory, which we conceive to be unnecessary and unphilo- sophical, and rendering the solution of these magnificent celestial phe- nomena vastly more difficult and complicated. And it is obvious, that, on either supposition, there must have been material errors of obser- vation. Thus, in Salem and Boston, the radiating point is said to have been in the zenith; while in Providence and New-Haven, with only half a degree difference in latitude, and but little more in longi- tude, that point was twenty degrees south of the zenith. If both tI~ese observations are correct, there must have been two points of radiation, within the space of less than a degree. But it is obvious that both these points must have been visible in all the places mentioned. But we find no account of more than one point of radiation having been noticed at the same place. The centre was determined at the two latter places, by referring it to fixed metes and bounds in the heavens. In the t ~o latter, for aught that appears, it was determined solely by the eye. There can be no hesitation in deciding ~vhich needs correction. If so great and obvious an error has been commit- ted in places in so near proximity, there is no difficulty in conceiving the inaccuracy of other observations, made in similar circumstances, in other places. And these necessary allowances will supersede the ne- cessity of supposing more than one centre of radiation, or of bringing the phenomenon down from heaven to earth. We must not omit to mention a circumstance, j)robably of consider- able importance to the solution of this phenomenon, and we can only mention, without dwelling upon it. The velocity of the meteors was particularly remarked. The degree of this velocity will depend alto- gether upon their distance from the earth. It has been computed that, if they were at the height of sixty miles above the earth, they must have moved at the rate of twenty miles in a second. Their velocity must have been inconceivably greater, at the distance of ten thousand milesperhaps equal to that of lightningat any distance, their ve- locity must have been great. We have thus noticed the principal circumstances of this remark- able phenomenon. And who could behold unmoved, this fearful light- ing up of the midnight skythe heavens apparently on firemillions of stars seeming to fall from their spheres, and the elements, as if about to melt with fervent heat? He must have a great deal of reck- lessness, and too much of philosophy, who could behold the scene without much of awe mingling with his admiration. Even philosophy could not view it with the tranquil and passionless eye, with which she regards other equally grand but more ordinary phenomena. And philosophy will not smile in scorn of less instructed minds, to which this brilliant revelation brought nothing but terror and dire forebod- ings. It is easy to conceive the emotions that would be excited in an ignorant mind, and even in a cultivated and ardent mind, in the view of such a scene, especially, when religion brought to view the warn- ings of prophecy. To any one, who believed the inevitable certainty The feteoric Shower. 53 of the predictions of the Bible, arid that they were uttered by him who made and controls the elements and all worlds, arid by whose omnipo~ tent an(1 unceasing energy alone the stars and planets are continued in their wondrous revolutions, such a phenomenon could nor hut give a vivid impression of the time, when all the stars of heaven shall rush madly from their spheres, aiid the clements melt with fervent heat. The thought would rush over his mind, with all its emotions of hope or of despair, that the subversion of the present order of nature had commenced,that He, who was to come, had come, amid the ruins of the universe, to judge and to reward his creatures according to their works, and from these crashing and dissolving elements to form more perfect and enduring conribinations of beauty, order, an(l utility, and new and brighter abodes of glory and happiness for his children. Science, we repeat, will not scorn these emotions of ignorance or enthusiasm ; for she felt something of them while standing, with uplifted eye, beneath those fiery meteors, and asked from whence they came, and only echo answered whence caine they ? The nature arid origin of shooting stars has been long sought for by philosophers, but as yet without any satisfactory result. Their causes are confessedly beyond the present reach of science. The limits of this article will not permit us to exarriine in detail the various hypoth- eses that have beeii proposed to explain them. The central point, from which the meteors seem to be cast, favors the theory, that they are projected from some solid body in a state of intense ignition. rrhe difficulties of this theory, and they seem to be insuperable, arethat the hody, which throws off so many millions of luminous globes, must be luminous and visible itselgthat some of these innumerable portions of a solid body must have fallen to the earth ; which is not the case as none have been foundand that no supportable projectile force, which such a body could possess, could give so great a velocity, as these me- teors undoubtedly move with. A correspondent of the New-York Journal of Commerce, who says he prefers buck-wheat cakes and coffee to speculations in philoso- phy, started a theory, or rather stated a hint for a theory, while wait- ing for his breakfast, which proves, at least, that his epicurism has not spoiled his philosophy, and which deserves mention, if only for its novelty and ingenuity. He adopts, as an undoubted fact, the opinion that there was more than one point of radiation, and that the ohservers, at different places, did not see the same meteors. It is well known, or, at least, certainly believed, that the solar system, and all the planetary systems, are revolving around some unknown centre of all systems, and that, consequently, the earth is constantly making a new path in absolute space. He, therefore, supposes that these meteoric phenome- na may be accounted for by the passage of the earth through the tail of a comet, wbich always leaves a train of luminous matter for several millions of miles behiiid it, or through one of the nebula, which the lastest observations of Dr. Herschel led him to suppose were a shining fluid, formed from the light continually issuing from the innumerable suns, which fill the immensity of space. In the passage of the earth through these nebula, or that tail, their substance would mix with the earths atmosphere, and be attracted to its surface; and the writer re- ferred to, thinks this would satisfactorily explain the prominent indica The Meteoric S/tower. tions of the phenomenon. This theory is as plausible as most, and more so than many, which have been proposed, and, like a thousand other theories, needs only the support of well-established facts to ren- der it the true one. It has an advantage over others, that it is not confined to the atmosphere of earth, but has the range of universal space, in which to gather its facts. Till that is explored, it has no chance of being refuted. But, without referring to other theories, which are inadequate to ac- count for such extensive phenomena, are opposed to some of the known laws of nature, and the constitution of the atmosphere, and are fast being exploded, we shall only allude to that, which ascribes these meteors to the agency of electricity. This element is undoubtedly adequate to the production of effects on a scale as magnificent as those recently witnessed, and the only known agent competent to such effects. It is universally diffused throughout the earth, and exists in great abundance in the upper regions of the atmosphere, and, perhaps, to an indefinite extent beyond it. Causes, many of which are known, are continually operating, often on a scale of vast extent, to produce electrical excitation. Is it not then very probable that this agent, every where present, every where active, of vast, versatile, and un- knowzi powers, would, under particular modifying circumstances, which we are yet to learn, produce the brilliant exhibition recently witnessed? We know not how to avoid an affirmative answer. The language just quoted is that of Professor Caswell, of Brown University, and there are many circumstances, in the late phenomenon, which powerfully confirm the theory of electric agency. At Lynch- burg, Virginia, strong electric symptoms were noticed. The gold beat electrometer was excited by a touch. Bennets electrometer, placed on the prime conductor, with the cushion insulated, rose on a slight motion of the machine; and the pendulum of De Lucs dry pile was accelerated. The Aurora Borealis, which is undoubtedly of electric origin, was distinctly visible in many places, particularly at Buffalo, and Warren, Ohio. A gentleman, who writes from the latter place, states that, on the evening before, he observed his clothes to be strongly charged with electricity, which, on considerable motion, was emitted in brilliant sparks. In the former place it is stated that the air was frequently illuminated with flashes of light, in no way differing from the ordinary silent electric explosions, called heat lightn~ng. There were many other indications of a highly electrical state of the atmo- sphere, among which may be reckoned the occurrence of a heavy thunder-storm, on the following night, in several places. But, after all, the most that can be said of the electric theory is, that, in the present state of knowledge, it is the most probable theory, which the future developments of science may confirm or overthrow. PHILANTHROPY OF THE PRESENT AGE. IT may, perhaps, be considered by many persons, a proof that Chris~ tianity is beginning to do its work in society more faithfully than ever before, that the present age is somewhat distinguished above others for philanthropy and public spirit. It has been objected, in former times, to the divine origin of our religion, that society does not appear to have been improved by it so much as might have been expected. But now, it seems as if some wonderful cause, which had never before been at work in the world, had suddenly arisen, through the influe~ice of which, the virtues, which have long been slumbering in the bosom of man, have been excited into vigorous action. Certainly no age has been so remarkable for societies for the improvement of mankind, as the present; none, in which so many publications have been under- taken by private and public means, avowedly for the purposes of phi- lanthropy. It is a thankless object to attempt to call in question the motives of any man or any set of men; it is, moreover, a dangerous, because an irreligious object. I would not, therefore, believe that the many individuals and associations, who have lately published works, which they think entitle them to the thanks of society, have been influenced knowingly by the desire of gain ; nor would 1 even suggest that the many persons, who are now actively and vigorously engaged in the promotion of any of those great objects which attract the public attention, are knowingly impelled by the love of reputation. But it is well, on our own account, if there be any delusion, by which others are moved to labors of benevolence, to consider deeply the subject of the character of that benevolence, which Christianity would lead us to exercise, in order that we ourselves need not be misled also. Let us consider what is the character of the philanthropy of the present day. A vast amount of money is expended for the support of the poor,fi)r foreign missions, for the diffusion of the scriptures, and other like objects; a vast amount of time is consumed by public meet- ings, to promote the cause of peace among nations ; for the suppres- sion of intemperance; and for the abolition of slavery. Many are busily engaged in ~vriting tracts, lectures, and sermons, and in l)rel)ar- ing public speeches in behalf of these various objects. The character of the philanthropy of the present day, then, is ACTIVE ;this is a val- uable quality, it is, also, PUBLIC; its effects are matters of public no- toriety; the exertions, to which it leads, are attended by the fame of those who make them. Is this well? Is it not a dangerous quality? Ought we not to be scrupulous, if we have engaged in any of these objects, in examining our motives, and assuring ourselves that the desire of being kno~vn as fine and polished speakers, or interesting writers, and that the wish of public office, of rising in the world, that, in a word, ambition., has had no share in the influences, which have induced us to become philanthropists? Should we he satisfied with a slight examination? Let us remember how often we are called upon to look back upon some of those actions, which we have thought among the most meritorious which we have performed, and to regret that our motives were, in reality, impure No slight exam- ination should seem satisfactory. Public approbation is the most

PHILANTHROPY OF THE PRESENT AGE. IT may, perhaps, be considered by many persons, a proof that Chris~ tianity is beginning to do its work in society more faithfully than ever before, that the present age is somewhat distinguished above others for philanthropy and public spirit. It has been objected, in former times, to the divine origin of our religion, that society does not appear to have been improved by it so much as might have been expected. But now, it seems as if some wonderful cause, which had never before been at work in the world, had suddenly arisen, through the influe~ice of which, the virtues, which have long been slumbering in the bosom of man, have been excited into vigorous action. Certainly no age has been so remarkable for societies for the improvement of mankind, as the present; none, in which so many publications have been under- taken by private and public means, avowedly for the purposes of phi- lanthropy. It is a thankless object to attempt to call in question the motives of any man or any set of men; it is, moreover, a dangerous, because an irreligious object. I would not, therefore, believe that the many individuals and associations, who have lately published works, which they think entitle them to the thanks of society, have been influenced knowingly by the desire of gain ; nor would 1 even suggest that the many persons, who are now actively and vigorously engaged in the promotion of any of those great objects which attract the public attention, are knowingly impelled by the love of reputation. But it is well, on our own account, if there be any delusion, by which others are moved to labors of benevolence, to consider deeply the subject of the character of that benevolence, which Christianity would lead us to exercise, in order that we ourselves need not be misled also. Let us consider what is the character of the philanthropy of the present day. A vast amount of money is expended for the support of the poor,fi)r foreign missions, for the diffusion of the scriptures, and other like objects; a vast amount of time is consumed by public meet- ings, to promote the cause of peace among nations ; for the suppres- sion of intemperance; and for the abolition of slavery. Many are busily engaged in ~vriting tracts, lectures, and sermons, and in l)rel)ar- ing public speeches in behalf of these various objects. The character of the philanthropy of the present day, then, is ACTIVE ;this is a val- uable quality, it is, also, PUBLIC; its effects are matters of public no- toriety; the exertions, to which it leads, are attended by the fame of those who make them. Is this well? Is it not a dangerous quality? Ought we not to be scrupulous, if we have engaged in any of these objects, in examining our motives, and assuring ourselves that the desire of being kno~vn as fine and polished speakers, or interesting writers, and that the wish of public office, of rising in the world, that, in a word, ambition., has had no share in the influences, which have induced us to become philanthropists? Should we he satisfied with a slight examination? Let us remember how often we are called upon to look back upon some of those actions, which we have thought among the most meritorious which we have performed, and to regret that our motives were, in reality, impure No slight exam- ination should seem satisfactory. Public approbation is the most 56 Philanthropy of the Present Age. seducing object, which can attract a young mans attention. Ambi- tion is a most dangerous guide, to follow through the trials and temp- tations of life. it any one find that he becomes a philanthropist, in any degree, from the desire of displaying his talents, let him desert the cause in ~vhich he has been thus engaged, or purify his heart from so foul a mixture of motives. If he pursue it without a change in his disposition, can he expect to conceal from others, ~vhat he has not been able to conceal from himself? The world are e~er ready to sus- pect ; and will he not be (lisappointed in his ambitious views, if they be discovered? Can he expect to conceal from that eye, which sees into the darkness of the human heart, where no mortal eye can penetrate? Besides, if his motives be impure, he will not be able to take the most direct and easy course for accomplishing the object, which his benevo- lence desires. With such a mixture of motives, his judgement will not 1)e able to select the best means, and he may fail, when, apparently, the object has been almost effected. If he fail, he will naturally be led to consider the causes of his failure; and will not his pride be shocked to learn that his follies may have caused it? if he do not suspect himself of any wrong motives, when they really exist, what consolation can he have in his disappointment? Will his love to man- kind urge him on to more important labors for their happiness? or self-love urge him to more chimerical plans, the success of which, is still more doubtful? or will not his love of mankind receive such a shock as shall deter him from attempting to improve their happiness, or make him altogether selfish, and induce him to pursue his selfish purposes by means more cunning, and unmixed with any desire for the good of others? Such a philanthropy often ~enerates STRIFE. Instead of being peace- able, gentle, long-suffering, it is inclined to make party-distinctions, and to take such means as shall compel men to be good, whether they are willing or not. It is something akin to the philanthropy, which gave rise to the inquisition, and caused the martyrdoms in Queen Marys time; a philanthropy, to compel men~ s consciences to believe in the truth, where they could not see it; and in order to save them from future punishment, which they themselves did not expect, to make their life one continued scene of punishment; or to send them by punishment to the condemnation of that very Judge, from whose condemnation they hoped to compel them to be saved. It endeavors to attain great objects by rapid strides,to reform the whole world in a moment. It excites, therefore, the opposition of the worldly-wise and the cautious, who think that the world may he reformed, but only by slow degrees, and by quiet means. That cause must be powerful indeed, which, in the course of a few years, can change the moral character of a whole continent. The storm acts powerfully, but wildly ; and though it may purify the air, it is hut for a few days ; it may send roan to pray in fear to his Maker,but it is the gentle sun and the mild raiim, which fertilize the fields and mature the crops; they cause the he. rt of man to rise in grateful adoration to the Giver of all good gifts. The storm is sent, in the course of Gods providence, to do good, and it is not answerable for the wildness of the havoc it may make. Man is sent to do good; but if, with his good, he has not been careful to (10 no hurt, he is answerable to him, whose minister Philanthropy of the Present Age. 57 he is. Great exertions produce great effects, but they excite great opposition, and sometimes dangerous reaction. If the world be re- formed too rapidly ,inore rapidly than the nature of man 1)ermits, who, after we are gone, shall take our places to maintain it in the position, to which we have carried it? If men are unwilling to reform, and do so only under the influence of great excitement, their charac- ters will be wanting in that strength. which is necessary to preserve them good. To prove that the philanthropy of the present day is obnoxious to this imputation, I need only refer to meetings ~vhich have been held in Virginia, in Vermont, and in New-Hampshire, and the resolutions and measures adopted in those meetings, adverse to the movements of the temperance reformers. I need but refer to certain meetings recently held in the city of Boston, for the discussion of the question, whether the cause of temperance should be considered in connexion with the qualifications of candidates for public officers. I know that, on this subject, there is a great difference of opinion, and I am con- scious that I may not have given it the long and sober consideration, which those ought to give, who take upon themselves to begin so dan- gerous a division. Still, I cannot but think that the question admits of little discussion, whether our happy community shall ever be divided into two violent political parties, the professed object of the one of which is, to exclude from offices of honor and trust those, whom they think less virtuous than themselves, and to denounce their opponents as immoral men. It appears to me as if the direct tendency of the me sures alluded to is to make religion the watchword of a party, and to make men consider themselves, and be considered by others, as virtuous or vicious, according to the opinions which they hold and the side UI)Ofl which they vote. Will not this bring religion and virtue into contempt? Would not the union of sectarianism and politics be an unhallowed combination, worse than any that has ever vexed the peace and happiness of the world? The philanthropy of the present day calls for few SACRIFICES ; and the sacrifice which it demands, is of such a nature as frequently to receive an immediate reward. It may he said, that it is a happy cir- cuinstance that the character of the present age is such as to permit philanthropists to labor without incurring danger, or loss of money, time, health, or life. But then, are they philanthropists? Do they even deserve the small praise of being public-spirited, who publish to the world that they have established stores, from which all spirituous liquors are excluded t or offices, from ~vhich no papers, tracts, or ma~- azines are issued, but those in support of the cause of temperance? Is it just for one, who preaches up the cause of peace, to add that he receives no reward, and that he is laboring at his own charges? Does he not at that moment demand us to give him our admiration? Public spirit, I believe, always calls for some degree of private sacrifice ~ and philanthropy can never exist arid be active, without still greater. It was riot enjoined upon us in vain, that, when we gave alms, our left hand should riot know what the right hand was doing, and that the mouth should not soun(l a trumpet before us. Truly, they who do so have their reward. But it may be denied, that the philanthropy which. at present dis- VOL. VI. 58 Philanthropy of the Present Age. turbs society, does not call for sacrifices. It may be said that money an(l in oTeat sums is expended, , too, for the furtherance of benevolent objects. True: The world always know how much; but does it come from those who can hardly spare it? Do those who possess millions or thousands, and give away hundreds or tens, feel the want of what they give ? Does their fire send one ray the less, or their table feel the lightness of one superfluity of luxury removed? It is but a light thing to give money. There are few widows in our land, whose penury is so great that their mites are all the living that they have. But time, which is to most, far more valuable than money, because they are less willing to expend it for others, is lavishly used to promote the cause of philanthropy. True, it is expended in the public halls, where beauty and fashion listen and approve, or in writ- ing and publishing what meets the pul)lic eye, and which the public hand rewards. But the loss of time, ~vhich is caused by these public displays, does not cause, also, a want of the necessaries, or even the luxuries of life. It is not whole days that are given, but the fragments of nights, and they impoverish no more those who are rich in time, than the gift of money those who are rich in ~vealth. There are, then, four characteristics, which appear to me to distin- guish the philanthropy of the present day, from that of former ages; It is active : the efforts to which it leads are all seen by the public eye: it generates strife; and it calls for few sacrifices. None of these qualities, except the first, are the characteristics of a philanthropy which forgets itself, and which embraces the whole human race. They are riot like the philanthropy of Paul, who labored working with his own hands, who was in jourucyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by his countrymen, in perils by the heathenin weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakediiess. The phi- lanthropy of Paul or of howard arose from no love of romance; it permitted no exertion without a deep sympathy with mankind. It called for sacrifices,the greatest which a man could make. Sick- ness and death stared them in the face, arid shook them familiarly by the hand. There can he but few Pauls and few Howards. The character of a genuine philanthropist is one which every summer s sun cannot shine upon. But though it appears, to my mind, as if the name of philanthropy, or even that of public spirit should scarcely be given to much of what goes un(ler those sounding names, I would not wish that men were less active; I could only wish that they were more judi- cious. It is of little avail that spasmodic efforts should be made to supply every family in the United States with Bibles in a year, when such an exertion demands of man more than he can do; it is of little importance, that any society should boast of having established, in the course of a year, a Sunday-school in every town in the Mississippi Valley; it is impossible that, in the course of a single day, a Tem- perance Society should be established in every to~vn in the United States. These great efforts are but the rollings arid tossings of a stream, swollen by the storms, which must soon again dwindle down into its former insignificance. God has not l)ermitted to man the power of working miracles; in his own government, they are but seldom used. The grass springs slowly; the grain grows gradually Death of Wilberforce. 59 yellow; aad when HE speaks to man, it is in the still small voice of conscience. The philanthropy recommended by the providence of God and the Gospel of his Son, acts by persnasion, and not by com- pulsion ; it adimmonishes ~vithout bitterness relieves without ostenta- tion ; and the freedom of opinion, the freedom of conscience, the free- dom of action) which it covets for itself, it unhesitatingly allows to others. The fruit of this philanthropy is joy, peace, gentleness, meek- ness, TEMPERANCE. E. DEATH OF WILBERFORCE. I HEARD loud praise of heroes. But I saw The blood-stain on their tablet. Then I marked A torrent rushing from its mountain height, Bearing the up-torn laurel, while its strength Amid the arid sands of Vanity Did spend itselfand lo! a warning voice Sighed oer the Ocean of Eternity, Behold the Warriors glory. History came, Sublimely soaring on her wing of light, And many a caine of palatine and peer, Monarch and prince, on her proud scroll she bore, Blazoned by Fame. But mid the sea of Time, Helmet, and coronet, and diadem, Rose boastful up and shone and disappeared, Like the white foam-crest on the tossing wave, Forgotten, while beheld. I heard a knell Toll slow amid the consecrated aisles Where slumber Englands dead,a solemn dirge Break forth amid the tomb of kings, and say That man was dust. And then a nations tears Fell down like rain; for it was meet to mourn. But from the land of palm-trees, where doth flow Sweet incense forth, from grove, and gum, and flower, Came richer tribute, breathing oer the tomb A prostrate nations thanks. Yes,Afric knelt, That mourning mother, and, throughout the earth Taught her unfettered children to repeat The name of WILBERFORCE, and bless the spot Made sacred by his ashes. Yea, the world Arose upon her crumbling throne, to praise The lofty mind that never knew to swerve, Ihough holy Truth should beckon it to meet The fro~vn of the embattled universe. And so I bowed me down in this far nook Of the far West, and proudly traced the name Of WimxeaeFonca upon my countrys scroll, To be her guide as she unchained the slave, And the brio-ht model of her sons, who seek True glory. And, from every village-haunt And school, where rustic Science quaintly reigns, I called the little ones, and forth they came, To hear of Africs champion, and to bless The firm in purpose, and the full of days. Hartford, Connecticut. L. H. S.

Death of Wilberforce. 59 yellow; aad when HE speaks to man, it is in the still small voice of conscience. The philanthropy recommended by the providence of God and the Gospel of his Son, acts by persnasion, and not by com- pulsion ; it adimmonishes ~vithout bitterness relieves without ostenta- tion ; and the freedom of opinion, the freedom of conscience, the free- dom of action) which it covets for itself, it unhesitatingly allows to others. The fruit of this philanthropy is joy, peace, gentleness, meek- ness, TEMPERANCE. E. DEATH OF WILBERFORCE. I HEARD loud praise of heroes. But I saw The blood-stain on their tablet. Then I marked A torrent rushing from its mountain height, Bearing the up-torn laurel, while its strength Amid the arid sands of Vanity Did spend itselfand lo! a warning voice Sighed oer the Ocean of Eternity, Behold the Warriors glory. History came, Sublimely soaring on her wing of light, And many a caine of palatine and peer, Monarch and prince, on her proud scroll she bore, Blazoned by Fame. But mid the sea of Time, Helmet, and coronet, and diadem, Rose boastful up and shone and disappeared, Like the white foam-crest on the tossing wave, Forgotten, while beheld. I heard a knell Toll slow amid the consecrated aisles Where slumber Englands dead,a solemn dirge Break forth amid the tomb of kings, and say That man was dust. And then a nations tears Fell down like rain; for it was meet to mourn. But from the land of palm-trees, where doth flow Sweet incense forth, from grove, and gum, and flower, Came richer tribute, breathing oer the tomb A prostrate nations thanks. Yes,Afric knelt, That mourning mother, and, throughout the earth Taught her unfettered children to repeat The name of WILBERFORCE, and bless the spot Made sacred by his ashes. Yea, the world Arose upon her crumbling throne, to praise The lofty mind that never knew to swerve, Ihough holy Truth should beckon it to meet The fro~vn of the embattled universe. And so I bowed me down in this far nook Of the far West, and proudly traced the name Of WimxeaeFonca upon my countrys scroll, To be her guide as she unchained the slave, And the brio-ht model of her sons, who seek True glory. And, from every village-haunt And school, where rustic Science quaintly reigns, I called the little ones, and forth they came, To hear of Africs champion, and to bless The firm in purpose, and the full of days. Hartford, Connecticut. L. H. S. 60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MATHEW CAREY~ LETTER III. ROCHEFOUCAULD, who probably saw as deeply into the inmost re- cesses of the human heart., as any man that ever lived, stated, as an aphorism, that no man was ever more unlike another, than he was occasionally unlike himself. Some other ethical philosopher said, to the same purpose, that man is a bundle of contradictions. Alas! fur the honor of human nature, there is too much truth in both remarksand I am persuaded, that there hardly exists a human be- ing, who does not frequently prove the truth of both aphorisms. So far as iegards my single selg I plead guilty to the soft impeach- ment, and have, in the early part of my career, given full proof that I can claim no exemption. My coup dcssai, as a writer, was a violent tirade against the barbarous practice of duelling; and behold me, in a very few short years, running full tilt, and provoking a duel, which, according to the strictest laws of chivalry, I might have avoided, with- out dishonor. Behold me firing a pistol at a man, ~vhom, notwithstand- ing my ignorance of the use of fire-arms, I might have killed, and thus deprived a woman and five or six children of their natural pro- tector, though I was conscious, at the very moment, of the enormity of the offence! I might well say, I see the right, and yet the wrong pursue. Alas! alas! I repeat, for poor human nature! Having very few notes to guide me, and depending, therefore, as I do, almost altogether on my memory, in these loose sketches, 1 shall frequently omit to introduce incidents in their proper chronological order ; as events do not present themselves to my recollection in a regular, consecutive series. In all such cases I shall note down the item, as they afterwards occur, without regard to anachronism. Two or three circumstances, just now recollected, fall within this category, and ought to have been noticed in my first letter, if noticed at all ; perhaps the reader will think that they might just as well be omitted altogether. I happened to be in Crow-street Theatre, Dublin, on the first repre- sentation of the Poor Soldierand, maugre the genuine humor of the piece, the excellent music of the songs, and the admirable perform- ance of the actors, I was to the last degree indignant at the introduc- tion,, on the stage, of an irish co~vard. The offence was, in my esti- mation, infinitely enhanced by the ~vriter being an Irishm an. I wrote next day, and published in the Volunteers Journal, a violent attack on the pieceon the writerand on the manager, Mr. Daly, who had dared to insult an Irish audience by the representation of such a piece, the first in the British Drama in which an Irish coward is exhibited. British dramatists, when they introduced an Irishman on the stage, however they might have caricatured the character by bulls and blun- ders, and too often by low buffoonery, had never rendered an Irishman despicable by the display of cowardice. Daly called on me, and expostulated on the injury he would sustain, if, through my instrumentality, the piece should be danined ; and urged, as an important consideration, the large sum he had paid for the permission to have it performed. He begged and prayed I would

60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MATHEW CAREY~ LETTER III. ROCHEFOUCAULD, who probably saw as deeply into the inmost re- cesses of the human heart., as any man that ever lived, stated, as an aphorism, that no man was ever more unlike another, than he was occasionally unlike himself. Some other ethical philosopher said, to the same purpose, that man is a bundle of contradictions. Alas! fur the honor of human nature, there is too much truth in both remarksand I am persuaded, that there hardly exists a human be- ing, who does not frequently prove the truth of both aphorisms. So far as iegards my single selg I plead guilty to the soft impeach- ment, and have, in the early part of my career, given full proof that I can claim no exemption. My coup dcssai, as a writer, was a violent tirade against the barbarous practice of duelling; and behold me, in a very few short years, running full tilt, and provoking a duel, which, according to the strictest laws of chivalry, I might have avoided, with- out dishonor. Behold me firing a pistol at a man, ~vhom, notwithstand- ing my ignorance of the use of fire-arms, I might have killed, and thus deprived a woman and five or six children of their natural pro- tector, though I was conscious, at the very moment, of the enormity of the offence! I might well say, I see the right, and yet the wrong pursue. Alas! alas! I repeat, for poor human nature! Having very few notes to guide me, and depending, therefore, as I do, almost altogether on my memory, in these loose sketches, 1 shall frequently omit to introduce incidents in their proper chronological order ; as events do not present themselves to my recollection in a regular, consecutive series. In all such cases I shall note down the item, as they afterwards occur, without regard to anachronism. Two or three circumstances, just now recollected, fall within this category, and ought to have been noticed in my first letter, if noticed at all ; perhaps the reader will think that they might just as well be omitted altogether. I happened to be in Crow-street Theatre, Dublin, on the first repre- sentation of the Poor Soldierand, maugre the genuine humor of the piece, the excellent music of the songs, and the admirable perform- ance of the actors, I was to the last degree indignant at the introduc- tion,, on the stage, of an irish co~vard. The offence was, in my esti- mation, infinitely enhanced by the ~vriter being an Irishm an. I wrote next day, and published in the Volunteers Journal, a violent attack on the pieceon the writerand on the manager, Mr. Daly, who had dared to insult an Irish audience by the representation of such a piece, the first in the British Drama in which an Irish coward is exhibited. British dramatists, when they introduced an Irishman on the stage, however they might have caricatured the character by bulls and blun- ders, and too often by low buffoonery, had never rendered an Irishman despicable by the display of cowardice. Daly called on me, and expostulated on the injury he would sustain, if, through my instrumentality, the piece should be danined ; and urged, as an important consideration, the large sum he had paid for the permission to have it performed. He begged and prayed I would Autobiography of Mathew carey. 61 forbear any further attacks upon it. I was inexorableand pledged myself that, whenever it was about to be represented, I would use the artillery of the press to decry, and exasperate the public against it. We l)arted on very ill terms. Some days afterwards, it was announced,and I renewed the attack, and urged the citizens to muster strong at the Theatre on the night of the performance, to prove their national spirit, and to convince the manager and his friends, that a Dublin audience was not to be insulted with impunity. Accordingly, large parties were made for the purpose; and we appeared in great fbrce. Daly, however, was not ~vanting to him- self. lie knew the arrangements that were being made, and took the necessary measures to defeat the hostile forces. lie gave inn umnerable passes, and hence a large majority of the audience was composed of his friends. rrhe curtain roseand, as soon as Darby appeared, the party opposed to the piece, began a general hissing veiiiiig. and But, to our dismay, we soon found that we were greatly outnumbered; and were obliged very reluctantly to cease our warfare. The perform- ance of course went on peaceably; and such was the influence of the merits of the piece, that before it was half over, those who had gone with the determination to put it down, if possible., and I among the rest, united in loud plaudits. The result was perfectly analogous to a circumstance that occurred in a very different place, and in an assembly collected for a very differ- ent purpose; where Those who came to scoff, remained to pray. Another incident took place about the same time, in the same Theatre, of a much more serious character to the Manager, and which was in danger of producing fatal consequences. The Duke of Rut- land, when he assumed the reins of government in Dublin, as viceroy, was one of the most popular lieutenants that ever were in Ireland. At the Theatres he used to be greeted with the most marked approbation, and three cheers for the noble son of the illustrious Marquess of Granby, were re-echoed by the whole house, Boxes, Pit, and Gallery. But, having urged forward some very obnoxious measure, his sun of popularity set forever, and he was among the most odious of those viceregents. Having ordered a play, (the usual mode of intercourse between the Castle and the Theatre) on a particular night, parties were formed, on a very extensive scale, to give him a strong and very unequivocal demonstration of the poptrlar indignation and the general disapprobation of his conduct. Tickets were distributed by hundreds. Daly, from whom these hostile machinations could not be concealed, determined to spring a countermine, to blow the conspirators sky-high. Accordingly he distributed a still greater number of tickets, or passes, and the house was of course oppressively crowded. lie bad, moreover, half a dozen ruffians placed at the wings of the stage, with voices that could out-stentorize Stentor himself. As soon as the curtain rose, began the tug or war. Both parties exerted themselves with might and main; but the Dalyites put down the others, yet not so effectually as to prevent frequent growls to annoy the Duke and the auditory. The result was regarded as a signal triumph on the part of the adherents of the vice-regal court, and mourned as a defeat by their opponents. The courtiers, elated with the victory, had a play ordered in about a week 6~2 Autobiography of Mathew Carey. or ten days afterwards. Their adversaries were resolved to leave nothing undone to regain the ground they had lost, and made redou- bled exertions. The Volunteers Journal was not deficient in exertions to fan the flame, and serve the good cause At length arrived the night the awful night, big with the fate of Rutlands popularity, and of Dalys career for that season. On the entrance of the Duke, the curtain rose, the orchestra struck up as usual, God save the king, the actors and actresses made their ap- pearance on the stage, and commenced the performance. But for any effect they produced on the tympanums of the sJ)ectators (not auditors, for auditory, as far as regarded the players or the music, there ~vas none) they might as well have been on the summit of Kilworth moun- tains. Never was ihere a more complete conglomeration of hideous sounds and yells heard out of Pandemonium. This was the vocal part of the entertainment, to which, in melody, the orchestral part did not yield an iota. Corn-craiks, watchmens rattles, whistles, small drums, an(I every other conceivable thing calculated to make a noise, united their p6wers to hail the appearance of the Duke of Rutland. The harmony of the~e musical instruments, was broken in upon by stento- nan vociferations of three groans for the degenerate son of the illus- trious Marquess of Granb~,. And such groans were re-echoed through the house as would almost have sufficed to awaken the dead. Only think of eight or ten hundred persons screaming at the top of their voices, three groans, & c. It beat the confusion among the builders of the Tower of Babel. After the players had been on the stage for ten or fifteen minutes, the curtain was loweredand in a short time was again raised, in the hopes that the popular effervescence had subsided. But the hope was fallacious. The same dulcet harmony of sweet sounds ~vas re- newed. The curtain was again lowered, and again raised, with the same hopes and the same success. But it being found that the audi- ence were inflexible, the Duke, and his suite, and the grandees, left the Theatre. All the rest of the assembled multitude (quorum parva pars fui) rushed out and chased him and his followers through the streets, shouting and groaning, till we were arrested in our career by the castle gates. Ten or a dozen Scotch horse ~vere sent out of the castle yard among us, who had an easy triumph; for we fled with as much precipitation as a flock of sheep pursued by a hungry wolf. It was a denouement for which we had tnade no calculation. As the frogs said to the boys in the fable, this was sport to usbut it was death to Daly. The rfheatre from that night forward, during the whole season, became unfashionable, arid was deserted. I have been in the boxes when Mrs. Siddons, who was engaged that season, played to less than one hundred persons. A custom had formerly pre- vailed, of dismissing the audience, and putting off the play, when there were but few persons present; but Daly had pledged himself never to put off a play, whatever number of persons might be in the house. It is almost certain that there scarcely ever was a correct biography, whether penned by the party, or by friend or foe, in which there were not various episodes of Love, that universal passion. Some such ad- ventures fell to my lot. Of these episodes, I shall pass over all but one. Autobiograpky of Mathew carey. 63 As I was about to go into the country, previous to my interview with the Marquis de Ia Fayette, I was two or three times in company with a young lady, (a Miss Boys, daughter of a commodore Boys,) of consid- erable attractions, with whom I was somewhat smitten. Her charms were, I confess, more personal, than intellectual; but it is well known that at twenty-four or twenty-five, the biped, man, more generally chooses a partner of the other sex by the eye than by the ear. I per- suaded myselg perhaps without reason, as is not an unfrequent occur- rence in such cases, that my addresses would not be unacceptable. But, in the uncertain state of my affairs, I scorned to attempt to gain her affections. Before commencing my rustication, I was desirous of ascertainine, how far, in the event of the arrival of my funds, my ad- dresses would be acceptable to her father and family; and accordingly waited on her father; candidly revealed the whole of my situation; and stated that all my present means were confined to a few guineas; that I had reason to expect a remittance of five hundred pounds ; that if it arrive(], I should commence the hookseiliug and printing business that in the mean time, I proposed retiring to the country for a few weeks; and was desirous of knowing, whether, should my expectations be fulfilled, he would he satisfied to admit me as a suitor for his daugh- ters hand. This procedure was, I presume, perfectly fair arid honorable, and entitled me to be favorahly heard. Had he received me with a corresponding frankness, I should have announced my views to his daughter, with the same openness arid freedom from disguise. He was, I believe, very poor, but proud and haughty as a Spanish Don Juan de Lopez de Mendoza de Olivarez. He told me that there had been a great many unfortunate matches lately made with foreigners and that he could for the present, say nothing on the subject. This was not very flattering. Had he said, that, provided he found my character and conduct correct and fair, he would be content to let me essay to make an impression on his daughters heart, I would have been satis- fied. It was all I could reasonably expect. But in addition to the uninviting sentiments which he expressed, his hauteur and manner were so cold and repelling as to chill me. My Irish blood was roused. Fortunately Cupids arrow had not penetrated far. The wound was only skin~deep, and instantaneously cicatrized. I gave up his daugh- ter almost without a struggle or a pang. After I had commenced printing the Pennsylvania Herald, the young lady and her aunt came to my office on some frivolous business, apparently with a view to renew the acquaintance. But I was very cool on the subject. The hauteur of the old don had wholly effaced the very slight impression she had made. I never saw her more. She died shortly afterwards. M. CAREY. Philadelphia, Dec. 1833. LETTER IV. IN October, 1786, I commenced, in partnership with T. Siddons, Charles Cist, C. Talbot, W. Spotswood, and J. Trenchard,* the Col rim- * After I quitted the rn,icern, a general title was engraved for the first volume, which con- tained the names of the proprietors at that periodviz. T. Siddons, W. Spotswood, C. Cist, and J. Trenchard. 64 Autobiography of Mathew carey. bian Magazine. In the first number, I wrote four pieces, The Life of Gen. Greene, The Shipwreck, a Lamentable Story, fouuded on Fact, A Philosophical Dream, and hard Times, a Fragment. The Philosophical Dream was an anticipation of the state of the country in the year 1550, on the plan of Merciers celebrated work, The Year 2500. Some of the predictions, which, at that period, must have been regarded as farcical, have been wonderfully fulfilled, an(l others are likely to he realized, previous to the arrival of the year 1850. I annex a few of them, which may serve to amuse the reader. Pittsbur, Jan. 15, 1850. The canal which is makin~ from the river Ohio, to the Susquehanna, and thence to the Delaware, will be of immense advantage to the United States. If the same progress continnes to be made hereafter, as has been for some time past, it will be completed in less than two years. This was probably the first suggestion of the grand project of unit- ing the waters of the ilelaware with those of the Ohio. It preceded, by four years the project of the financier, Robert Morris, and his friends, to unite the Delaware with the Schoylkill and the Susque- hanna, which was broached in 1790. Pittsberg Jan. 15. Delegates from the thirtieth new state, laid off a few months since, by order of Congress, lately arrived at Colombia; and on producing their credentials, were received into the Federal Council. The Agricultural Society of this town, have offered premiums to the amount of one thousand pounds, for the improvement of husbandry. In the asseiubly of this state, it was lately ordered. that the salaries of public school-masters shall hereafter be two hundred pounds per annum. Ezekiel Jones was lately convicted of not sending his son to school, although five years old. The time ordered by law is at four years. He was sentenced to stand in a white sheet, three successive Sundays, in his parish church. Charleston, ~pril 15. No less than ten thousand blacks have been transport- ed from this state and Virginia, during the last two years, to Africa, where they have formed a settlement, near the mouth of the river Goree. Very few blacks remain in this country now; and we sincerely hope that in a few years every vestige of the infairious traffic, carried on by our ancestors in the human species, will be done away. Richmond, april 30. By authentic ad vices from Kentucky, we are informed, that no less than one hundred and fifty vessels have been built on the river Ohio, during the last year, and sent down that river and the Mississippi, laden with val- uable produce, which has been carried tu the West-Indies, where the vessels and their cargces have lieen disposed of to feat advantage. Boston, april to. At length, the canal across the isthmus of Darien. is com- pleted. It is about sixty miles long. First-rate vessels of war can with ease sail through. nyu vessels belonging to this port, two to Philadelphia, and one to New-York, sailed through on the 20th January last, bound for Caiiton. in China.* Columbia, May 1. Lxtracts from the journals of Comieress. Ordered, that there be twenty professors in the University of Columbim~, in this city ; viz, of Divinity, of Church history, of Hebrew, of Greek, of Humanity, of Logic, of Moral Philosophy, of Natural Philosophy, of Mathematics, of Civil History, of Natural History, of Coniomon amid Civil Law, of the Law of Nature and Nations, of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, of Botany, of Materia Medica, of Physic, of Chemistry, of Anatomy, and of Midwifery. Philadelphia, Oct. ii, 1786. The discomfort, arising from the discordant views of the different partnersthe utter improbability of such a work producing any profit, * Utterty igaurant of canattirig at that period, I made a most miserabte catenation of the width anil expense of such . n improvement. t have, therefore, omitted hoih, to escape ridicule. This, be it observed, is the onty variation from the original. AutSegrqhj ~ MoSes ~nj. 65 worth the attention of five persons, and ether considerations, deter. mined me to withdraw from th~ Colombian Magazine, which I did in December, 1786. And. in January, 1787,1 issued the first number of the American Museum, intended to preserve the valuable fuagiSre es- says, that appeared in the newspapers, which I continuedior six ~m ending December,. 173.. The hrst: number,, which contained a mains ef most excellent matter, attracted great atteutiom It was eagerly sought tern;. and I sold: it separately~A the edition, one thousand copies1 was exhausted, I. had not means to reprint it. This was a very serious injury r many perbonw who intended to. subscribe~ declijied, as I could not fnish the whole of the numbers.: I applied ibra loan of ous hundred and lAy dollar., tohalf wdozeu or a dozen .~vealthypersoas, but for a eenid~ erabletimemy applications wbrewholly.in rainY Aslength, Iprecured the requisite sum from Mt Geotge Do., to whoa 1 gave bond and judgemneuc for the amount . He passed:th. bond tohis grocer, in pay- ment for family .supplies~and the grocer was indemnified by. instal.. mess, as I Lund it convenient. . . . . I Never was mere Jabo! bestoweuton work wit im rewart. Durr leg the whole sir years~I was in a state of intense penury~ I never at. any one time, possessed four hbndred dollarsr-and: rarely three er two hundred. My difficulties.were of the meet emberassing kind. K was, times without number, obliged to borrow money top to market,. and was often unable 6 pay my journeymen. on. Saturday . whisk sent me to bet sick with vexation. One resolute negro pressman.. who had not received hirwagesorlaturday night, refused togo.W work. on Monday morning; ~He was not, he said bol4l ,flgoiug.t~st~rve. in the midst of the fat of the land.! . The strougest.instamce of my extreme, poverty was it the carol a: German. paper-maker, named Conrad Hindersbedts, to whom I hid given, a. note. for thirty-seven dbliars,. which I paid at five instarmenta, out of which was a French crown L Be it observed,, that I was then as willingand ready topky my & bts, as. I have ever been, or am at presentand whit rendeystlie cashiers remarhabte, is1 that theme lived, as fe as F recoffec~ fifteen or twenty miles at of town;. slid there. is always more scruple about putting of R country dun,.than one who lives in thesamwcity with the demon ~r embarrassments arose from three sources; The suhs6riptioa was too roe. It was only twojdollata and forty cents per annumn,T fo,r ubach I gavetwo volumes; containing,, each, from fivehundred to five hundred sad fifty pagesa quantity, that now commands five delIct.. This man immense disadvantxge,.and enpugh, of itself,~tokee~pa~ constantly iii a crippred state. Another source of difficulty arose, flonatbe fact, that more tlan..half of my suBscribers lived fir ~mote satuxtaonsrtwo, three, itr, and five hundred miles tYom me; aM tlheiirremiitauoes were neztkemely ~r- regular, that! was obliged? to faire colI~ctors to Jut them, at r Beayy What. eaas between this comics anal, that dike Mawy.. Ge Is Fayettet Na them came, I we. a peer, MendIeee, Station anprr4u the ether I wee enosed In aveuyueethl mem~. hIhIy preleea ant therflre~ hat an- EtheR gift. wee alt sore tIsa.adrietthe amesuat. vcu,..n. W 66 Autobiography of Matliew Carey. expense, which averaged, at least, thirty per cent. of the slender modi- cum, I was entitled to receive It is painful to relate, that wealthy citizens of Philadelphia, were, in many cases guilty of the gross im- propriety, of obliging me to send half a dozen or a dozen times for the paltry annual subscription I printed, moreover, quite too many copies, in the vain hope of ulti- mately procuring a large increase of subscribers. In a word, my pe- cuniary embarrassments were so great, and so constant, that I am now astonished how I was able to muster perseverance and fortitude to struggle through them. I was much attached to the work, and had great reluctance to aban- don it, unproductive and vexatious as was the management of it; but at length I sang its requiem, as I have said, at the close of the year 1792. That it had considerable merit is universally acknowledged ; and there is no vanity in the declaration, as the work did not contain a single essay of my own. The whole of my labor consisted in the se- lection of its contents from newspapers, and the addition, occasional- ly,. of a few notes of little importance. The American Museum met with the most unqualified approbation of some of the most distinguished citizens of the United Statesof Gen. Washington, John Dickinson, Gov. Livingston, Dr. Rush, Bishop White, Judge llopkinson, Dr. Dwight, & c. & c. I believe the American Museum has met with extensive, I may say, with universal approbation from competent judges; for I am of opinion that the work is not only eminently calculated to dissminate political, agricultural, philosophi- cal, and other valuable informationhut that it has been un~formiy conducted with taste, attention, and propriety. If to these important objects, be superadded the more immediate design of rescuing public documents from oblivionI will ven- ture to l)ronollnce, as my sentiment, THAT A MORE U5EFUL LITERARY PLAN hAS NEVER BEEN UNDERTAKEN SN AMERICA, (SR ONE MORE DESERVING OF PUBLIC EN- cOURAGEMENT. Gen. Washington, June 25, 1788. With very great pleasure, I have observed, that it has been conducted in a man- ner highly desersin encouragement. As I do not doubt but it ~vill be continued with the same dilifence, prudence, and zeal, for adroecing the welfare of these states, that have hitherto so eminently distinfuished its direction, I fervently wish, and firluly trust, that a generous and enlightened people will justly estimate the merits of a work carried on with such a variety of exertions, and such a fidelity of intentions for the public good. Hon. John Dithinson, July 19,1788. Perusing one of your Museums, lent me by a friend, 1 hesitated not a moment to subscribe to the work. Since that, I have read all the preceding numbers, and can say, without flattery, (which I always detested) that itfier exceeds, in my opin- ion, every attenSpt of the kind, which, from any other American press, ever came to my hands. Gov. Livingston. August 8, 1788. I cheerfully concur in adding the testimony of my name in favor of the use- fulness of your Museum, together with my best wishes for its extensive circula- tion, while it continues to be the vehicle of essays that are calculated to advance the interest of science and virtue, and of the agriculture, manufactures, and national government of the United States. B. Rush, M. D. To the married state I had long looked forward, as the most eligible condition in life, even before my adventure with Miss Boys. But I was so chivalric, that I had determined never to marry till I could sup- port a wife genteelly, or at least comfortably. But in this case, as in many others, in which I had resolved, as I thought, irrevocably, for- tune or destiny crossed my purpose ; for when I rriarried at thirty-one, my whole property consisted in cart-loads of odd volumes, and odd numbers, of the American Museum, which, when I finally abandoned Autobiography of Mathew Carey. 67 the work, proved almost valueless; and also a most slender supply of furniture, which would not sell for one hundred dollars. My wife was as poor as myself I did not receive a dollar with her; all her fortune was a quantity of furniture, not much more valuable than my own. So far as fortune is concerned, it rarely happens that a more imprudent marriage takes placeor one in which sordid views of interest have less influence. I was obviously not a fortune-hunter. I married Miss B. Flahavan, the daughter of a highly respectable citizen, ruined by the revolution. He sold his stock in trade for con- tiriental moneyand, being inactive and indolent, took no means to realize it; and it finally perished nearly altogether in his hands. My wife was about ten years younger than I. She was industri- ous, prudent, and economical, and well calculated to save whatever I made. She had a large fund of good sense. We early formed a de- termination to indulge in no unnecessary expenseand to mount the ladder so slowly, as to run no risk of having to descend. Happy, thrice happy would it be, for thousands and tens of thousands, if they adopted and persevered in this salutary and saving course! What masses of misery would it not prevent! But a large portion of young people, at present, crowd, into a few years, enjoyments which might last for lifeand hence it too often happens, that daughters, tenderly reared, and who have brought handsome fortunes to their husbands, are obliged to return home to their aged parents, who have to main- tain them, their husbands, an(l an increasing brood of childrena de- 1lorable fate for old age. The young men are highly. culpable, ~vho, through their imprudence or extravagance, make such a return to the parents of their wives, for their cares, and anxieties, and expenditures. To avoid this calamity, no pains, no sacrifice of enjoyment or even of comfort or convenience ought to be spared. Some idea may be formed of the fidelity with which we observed this rule, when I state that at a time when 1 did business to the amount of forty or fifty thousand dol- lars per annum, 4 hesitated for four or five years about changing my gig for a one-horse four-wheel carriageand nearly as long about pur- chasing a carriage and pair. And during the whole period of our marriage, I never, as far as I recollect, entered a tavern, except on a jury, or arbitration, or to see a customer, or at a public dinner, or on my travelsnever in a single instance for the purpose of drinking. My wife and I lived together happily for nearly thirty-nine years. We had nine children, of whom three have died, two in infancy, and one, a daughter, of the most angelic character, at about seventeen years. Of her I can truly say, that to the best of my recollection, she never gave her mother or me a single moments uneasiness by ill tem- per or ill humor. She was placidity and gentleness personified. Philadelphia, Dec. 7th, 1833. M. CAREY. WIT, WISDOM, AND DULLNESS. MOST men have either Wit, Wisdom, or Dullness. A fortunate man is the dunce; he is the favorite of Fortune, if he be the scorn of Minerva. Nature says to the Dunce, You shall be rich,to the Phi- losopher, You shall be happyand to the Wit, You shall be poor. To the Wit she says, Like Carlini, you shall make others laugh, while you weep yourself:: you shall see every thing glorious, aspire to every thing great, and feel every thing mortifying. You shall live a depend- ant,lose your best friends for a jest,die in a shed with an epigram upon your lips,be buried by the town, and praised by posterity. To the Dunce, bountiful Nature says, Go forth and prosper. You shall be rich and respected. You shall have no enemies; you shall excite neither jealousy nor envy: you shall offend no man by oppos- ing his opinions, for you shall have none of your own. You shall have office, because you cannot outshine your constituents; while, for ~the contrary reason, Wit and Wisdom shall have no vote. You shall wear silk and broadcloth, while Wisdom has a suit of homespun, and :Witsuchtattered livery as shall pleas the Muses. I Wisdom dwell with Prudence ; but Wit shall live in darker corners, and misery shall acquaint him ~vith strange bed-fellows. He shall have small occasion to study, what he shall eat, drink, or put on; for seldom shall a choice in either be left him. Defend us, Wisdom and Wit! if either we have, from uttering a thought against our gracious sovereign the People: but this great monarch is sometimes unjust and often ungentle. He is a very good potentate,this Uncle Sam,but he has been known to confer upon Gravity the parts that should be filled by Wisdom. A.s to Wit, it can have no republican post; it is ever committing itself. At a court he is a favorite; in a Senate, he is a nuisance. In a Court, he rises by the favor of~the great, forhe can flatter; which Wisdom will not, and Dullness cannot do. He can,begging his pardon,tell a lie to a Lady or a Lord. He can offer hem the delicate incense of ~praise; or, what is equally for his interest, he can lampoon their rivals. Who, Then, would be a Wit? To be born one is, perhaps, the great- est misfortune that can happen to man, except that which Rousseau deprecated,the misfortune to be born a king. Yet, let us not pity Wit over-much; it has many pleasures that others have not. Wherev- er it comes, it is welcome; it lights up tt dnll assembly with smiles it puts care to flight; it enjoys, for all that it utters, immediate appiause,while Wisdom cannot gather its fame for centuries. Wit is eometimes mischievous:: it is not truculent; it ~vou1d not break a man upon a wheel, or hang him on a gibbet; but it would put a label on his back, as a boy ties a cannister to a dogs tail, and laugh with those who enjoy his petty malice. Wit has a way of dealing with the faults of men or communities, that is more efficacious than the penalties of the law: his sarcasms are more feared than fines, and his ballads are worse than imprisonments. lie will give a name to a grave citizen, that shall more distin~uish him than that of the godfather; and the names he gives are seldom such as the object would select for himself. C. L. D.

WIT, WISDOM, AND DULLNESS. MOST men have either Wit, Wisdom, or Dullness. A fortunate man is the dunce; he is the favorite of Fortune, if he be the scorn of Minerva. Nature says to the Dunce, You shall be rich,to the Phi- losopher, You shall be happyand to the Wit, You shall be poor. To the Wit she says, Like Carlini, you shall make others laugh, while you weep yourself:: you shall see every thing glorious, aspire to every thing great, and feel every thing mortifying. You shall live a depend- ant,lose your best friends for a jest,die in a shed with an epigram upon your lips,be buried by the town, and praised by posterity. To the Dunce, bountiful Nature says, Go forth and prosper. You shall be rich and respected. You shall have no enemies; you shall excite neither jealousy nor envy: you shall offend no man by oppos- ing his opinions, for you shall have none of your own. You shall have office, because you cannot outshine your constituents; while, for ~the contrary reason, Wit and Wisdom shall have no vote. You shall wear silk and broadcloth, while Wisdom has a suit of homespun, and :Witsuchtattered livery as shall pleas the Muses. I Wisdom dwell with Prudence ; but Wit shall live in darker corners, and misery shall acquaint him ~vith strange bed-fellows. He shall have small occasion to study, what he shall eat, drink, or put on; for seldom shall a choice in either be left him. Defend us, Wisdom and Wit! if either we have, from uttering a thought against our gracious sovereign the People: but this great monarch is sometimes unjust and often ungentle. He is a very good potentate,this Uncle Sam,but he has been known to confer upon Gravity the parts that should be filled by Wisdom. A.s to Wit, it can have no republican post; it is ever committing itself. At a court he is a favorite; in a Senate, he is a nuisance. In a Court, he rises by the favor of~the great, forhe can flatter; which Wisdom will not, and Dullness cannot do. He can,begging his pardon,tell a lie to a Lady or a Lord. He can offer hem the delicate incense of ~praise; or, what is equally for his interest, he can lampoon their rivals. Who, Then, would be a Wit? To be born one is, perhaps, the great- est misfortune that can happen to man, except that which Rousseau deprecated,the misfortune to be born a king. Yet, let us not pity Wit over-much; it has many pleasures that others have not. Wherev- er it comes, it is welcome; it lights up tt dnll assembly with smiles it puts care to flight; it enjoys, for all that it utters, immediate appiause,while Wisdom cannot gather its fame for centuries. Wit is eometimes mischievous:: it is not truculent; it ~vou1d not break a man upon a wheel, or hang him on a gibbet; but it would put a label on his back, as a boy ties a cannister to a dogs tail, and laugh with those who enjoy his petty malice. Wit has a way of dealing with the faults of men or communities, that is more efficacious than the penalties of the law: his sarcasms are more feared than fines, and his ballads are worse than imprisonments. lie will give a name to a grave citizen, that shall more distin~uish him than that of the godfather; and the names he gives are seldom such as the object would select for himself. C. L. D. 69 THE DYING YEAR. RXTENDED on a bed of dry leaves, in a cold, uncomfortable hovel, lay the shivering form of a feeble old man. his beard descended to his girdle, and his hair was white as snow. Reclining near his bed- side, was a female, evidently, like her father, sinking rapidly into de- cay. Now, and then~ the old man stretched forth his withered hands, over a few embers, that lay near him; but his weak frame, numbed by the approach of death, seemed no longer able to feel their warmth. Turning his dying eyes towards his daughter, he thus addressed her My poor December! you, alone of all my blooming children, re- main to cheer the last moments of your parent. Though seemingly cold and sullen, in your disposition, yet you have ever attended me with the greatest tenderness. Must I not love you, then, as fondly as my other children, whose loss, however long I may have expected it, is now hurrying me to the tomb? My life, like that of my predecessors, has been an eventful onean almost continued series of disappoint- ments and sorrows; while to others, I cannot but hope, that I have been the occasion of much happiness and joy. As I was born with a good disposition, under the control of a great master, the pleasure, that I bestowed upon others, was reflected back upon myself. Often have I been gladdened at the sight of many a happy marriage, many a meeting of long-separated friends, many a public festival. One after another, I have sent my darling children over the world, to bestow my bounties on suffering mankind ; but, exhausted by their journey, they have never again returned to my arms, but have sucessively expired, and been entombed with their ancestors, in the vault of time. But, unwearied in my exertions for the good of others, no sooner had one gone from me, forever, than I despatched another, without a murmur, who was doomed to follo~ the steps of his race.. My dear children, ye are gone. Shall I never more hear the voice of my blustering, but well-intentioned March? never again, behold the sweet face of my gentle April, glistening with tears, or the happy countenance of my smiling May? And, you, too, my poor December, must, with me, finish your unhappy life, that has been so distressed by my sickness and infirmity. Sorrowful and uncheered, have been your days, and cheerlessly will they soon close. But you have never envied the lot of some of your deceased relatives; as you have never known felicity, you cannot sorrow for what you have never enjoyed. Of all my chil- dren, you most resemble your first-born sister, January; but her life was enlivened by joyous anticipations. Such anticipations have not

69 THE DYING YEAR. RXTENDED on a bed of dry leaves, in a cold, uncomfortable hovel, lay the shivering form of a feeble old man. his beard descended to his girdle, and his hair was white as snow. Reclining near his bed- side, was a female, evidently, like her father, sinking rapidly into de- cay. Now, and then~ the old man stretched forth his withered hands, over a few embers, that lay near him; but his weak frame, numbed by the approach of death, seemed no longer able to feel their warmth. Turning his dying eyes towards his daughter, he thus addressed her My poor December! you, alone of all my blooming children, re- main to cheer the last moments of your parent. Though seemingly cold and sullen, in your disposition, yet you have ever attended me with the greatest tenderness. Must I not love you, then, as fondly as my other children, whose loss, however long I may have expected it, is now hurrying me to the tomb? My life, like that of my predecessors, has been an eventful onean almost continued series of disappoint- ments and sorrows; while to others, I cannot but hope, that I have been the occasion of much happiness and joy. As I was born with a good disposition, under the control of a great master, the pleasure, that I bestowed upon others, was reflected back upon myself. Often have I been gladdened at the sight of many a happy marriage, many a meeting of long-separated friends, many a public festival. One after another, I have sent my darling children over the world, to bestow my bounties on suffering mankind ; but, exhausted by their journey, they have never again returned to my arms, but have sucessively expired, and been entombed with their ancestors, in the vault of time. But, unwearied in my exertions for the good of others, no sooner had one gone from me, forever, than I despatched another, without a murmur, who was doomed to follo~ the steps of his race.. My dear children, ye are gone. Shall I never more hear the voice of my blustering, but well-intentioned March? never again, behold the sweet face of my gentle April, glistening with tears, or the happy countenance of my smiling May? And, you, too, my poor December, must, with me, finish your unhappy life, that has been so distressed by my sickness and infirmity. Sorrowful and uncheered, have been your days, and cheerlessly will they soon close. But you have never envied the lot of some of your deceased relatives; as you have never known felicity, you cannot sorrow for what you have never enjoyed. Of all my chil- dren, you most resemble your first-born sister, January; but her life was enlivened by joyous anticipations. Such anticipations have not 70 7ike Dying Year. been your lot, for you knew your doom, and mine, by our mutual weakness, and decay; this has been your only subject of contempla- tion. As for me, my character has been a mixture of good and evil; I have been called capricious, and unkind, because, while I have made one happy, I have made another miserable; while smiles have lighted up the face of one, tears, by my means, have dimmed the eyes of an- other. While one unhappy parent execrates me for the death of a son,or a son, for the death of a father, another thanks me, for sparing from the grave his feeble offspring, or his endeared ancestor. But I have been under the direction of a superior power; and believing that nothing was done, without a sufficient cause, I have obeyed, implicitly, His wise mandates, although, too often, sorrowfully. My disposition has not grown more morose, as I have increased in age, but has con- tributed, as much as ever, to the good of others. But I am best read, in the annals of my country. If I have in- creased the public welfare, or the happiness of individuals; if I have, in any way, benefited morals, virtue, or religion, I trust that I have not lived in vain, nor shall I die unsatisfied. For I have fulfilled the purposes of my being, and shall not lie unhonored in the dust. May gratitude to my exertions, and veneration for my deeds, remain, long after I am unconscious of every thing! May the flowers of re- memnbrance spring up, and flourish over my peaceful grave, and be watered by the tears of affectionate regret, while the mistakes of the poor old man shall repose, undisturbed, with his cold ashes! My virtues may profit my successor, and my errors be warnings to his steps. P is my last wish, that the mortals, who have been happy under n~y reign, may preserve their happiness under anothers; and, that those, who have su~ffered misfortunes, may regain what they have lost. For the happiness of man has been my delight, in lifeand wishes for his welfare shall be my last thoughts, in death. Adieu, my poor December! I am dyingan icy hand presses heavy upon me. My daughter, let us close our eyes in peace. At that moment, the clock struck twelve, In a deep and hollow tone ; the old man clasped the hand of his child, and, with a sigh, both ceased to exist. They were burnt upon the same funeral pile. From their ashes, another year has sprung.* *** * POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. TWENTY-THIRD CONGRESS. The first session of the twenty-third Congress commenced on the first Mon- day of December. The following is a list of the Members SENATE. .Maine. Peleg Sprague, Ether Shepley. New- Hampshire. Samuel Bell, Isaac Hill. Massa- ch etto. Nathaniel Sllshee, Daniel Webster. Rhode-Joland. Nehemiah R. Knight, Asher Itobbins,* E. R. Potter.* Connecticut. Gideon Tomlinson, Nathan Smith. Terms t. Samuel Prentiss, Benjauiin Swift. New-York. Silas Wright, Nathaniel P. Tallmadge. .Nesc-Jersey. Theodore Frelinghuyoen, Samnel L. Sooth- ard. Peaasylvania. William Wilkins, Samuel MKean. Delaware. John H. Clayton, Arnold Naudain. aryland. Ezekiel F. Charembers, Jo- seph Kent. Virginin. William C. Rives, John Tyler. orth-Carolina. Bedford Brown, Will- iam P. Mangum. South-Qarolina.- John C. Cal- houn, William Pieston. Georgia. John For- syth,JohnP.King. Kentucky. GeorgeM. Bibb, Henry Clay. Tennessee. Hugh L. White, Felix Grundy. Ohio. Thomas Ewing, Thomas Mor- ris. Louisiana. George A. Waggaman, one vacancy. Indiana. William Hendricks, John lipton. .lllississippi. George Poindexter, John Black. illinois. John H. Robinson, Elias K. Kane. ~laIama. William H. Kin , Gabmiel Moore. Missouri. Lewis F. Linn, TisomasH. Henton. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATtVES. ANoaEw STEVENSON, of Virginia, Speaker. Maine. F. 0. J. Smith, Rtsfus Mtntire, Ed- ward Kavanagh, Go rham Packs, Joseph Hall, Leonard Jarvio, Hoses Mason, George Evans. New-Hampshire. Henry Hubbard, Joseph M. Harper, Henning hi. Bean, Franklin Pierce, Robert Burns. Vermont. Hiland Hall Horace Everett, Heman Allen, William Slade, Benja- min F. Denming. Massachusetts. Isaac C. Bates, Rufus Choate, John iAuincy Adams, John Davis, George N. Briggs, Edward Everett George Grennell, Jr. John Reed, Will am Hay- lies, Benjamin Gorham, Gayton P. Osgood, one vacancy. Connecticut. Jabez W. Huntington, William XV. Ellsworth, Noyes Barber, Samuel A. Foot, Ebenezer Young, Samuel Tweedy. Rhode-Island. Triotam Burges, Dutee J. Pearce. New-York. Abet Huntin4on, Isaac B. Van Bouten, Churchill C. Camobreleng, Campbell P. White, Cornelius XV. Lawrence, Dudley Selden, Aaron Ward, Abraham Hockee, John W. Brown, Ch aries Hodle, John Adams, Aaron Vanderpool, Job Pieroon, Gerrit V. Lan- sing, John Cramuer, Henry C.. H rtindale, Reu- ben Whalon, Hansom H.. Giliert, Charles MVean, Abijab Mann, Jr. Samuel Beardslev, Joel Terrell, Daniel Wardweii, Sherman Page, Noadiab Johnson, Henry Mitcheit, Nicoll Hal- sey, Samuel G. Hathaxvay, William T, ylor, William K. Fuller, Ro -land Day, Samuel Clark, John Dickson, Edward Howell, Freder- ick Whittlesey, George W. Lay, Philo C.. Ful ler, Abner Hazeltine, Mellerd Fillmore, Gideon Hard. New-Jersey. Hablon Dickerson, Sam- nel Fowler, James Parker, Ferdinand S. Schenek, William N.. Shinmi, Thomas Lee. Pennsylvania. Horace Binney, James Harper, John G. Watmough, William Heister, William Darlimigmon, David Pens, Jr. William Clark, Harmer Denny, George Chambers, T. H. F. Ht(ennan, John Banks, Andrew Stewart, Charles A. Barnitz, G. Burd, Jesse Miller, Jo- septi B. Anthoimy, Henry A. Muhlenbumrg, Joel K. Hann, Robert Ramsey, David B. Wagener, Henry King, Andrew Beaumont, Jobmi Laporte, Joseph Henderson, John Gaibraith, Samuel S~ Harrison, Richard Coulter, Joel B. So therland. Delaware. John J. Milligamh Maryland. James P. Heath, James Turner, J. T. Stoddart, tsaac iMKim, Kichard B. Carmichael, Francis Thom- as, Wiliigm C. Johnson, Littieton P. Dennis. Virginia. John H. Patton,John V. Mason, Will- lamo F. Gordon, Thomas F. Bouldin, William S. Archer, Nathaniel H. Claiborne, Jimseph W. Chinn, Charles F. Mercer, Edward Lucas, Sam- uel McDowell Moore, Andrew Stevenson, Thos. Davenport, John J. Alleum, George Loyall, James H. Gholsomm, Edgar C. Wilson, James H. Beale, William P. Taylor, John H. Fuimon, William MComas, Henry A. Wise. Norlh-Cnrolioa. H. T. Hawkins, Thomas H. Hail, William B. Shep- ard, Jesse Speight, James HMay, Aluraham Renclier, Daniel L. Barringer, Ednuumnd Deberry, Lewis Williams, A. H. Shepherd, Henry XV. Conway, Jessee A. Hynmim, James Grahaunm. So th-Corolina. James Blair, George MDulhie,, Thomas H. Singleton, William K. Ciowney,, Henry L. Piuckney, William J. Grayson, War- meim K. Davis, John H. Felder, John K. Griffin. Georgia. J. H. Wayne, R. H. Wilde, G. R.. Gilmore,, A. S. Claytomi, T. H. Foster, K. L. Gamlute, Seaborn Jomues, WitBarn Schley, John Coffee. Bahama. Clement C. Clay, Dixon H. Lewis, John Murphy, Samuel XV. Mardis, bun HKinley. Mississip i. Henry Cage, Frammklin E. Plmummer. Louisiana. Phileummon Thomas, Henry A. Humirard, Edw.D. White. Tennessee. John Bell Cave Johnson, James K. Polk, David XV. Dickinson, Hailie Peyton, John Blair, Sam- uel Huuuch, Luike Lea, James Standifer, David Crocket, John H.. Forrester, William. H. Inge, Wiliiam C. Dunlap. Kentucky. Chilton Ailan, Thomas A. Marshall, Amos Davis, Richard H.. Jobmuson, Fhonuas Chilton, K. P. Letcher, * Thoumas P. Moore 0 Bemijamin Bardin,, Chit- tenden Lyon, Martin Beatty, James Love, Chris- toptuer Tompkins, P. H. Pope, Albert G. Bawes. Ohio. Pobert T. Lytle, Tayior Webster. Will- lam Allen, Jeremiah HeLene, Thuimas L. Ha- mer, John Chaney, Robert Mitchell, John Thompson, Benjamnin Jones, Williani Patterson, Humphrey B. Leavitt, David Spangler, James H. tell, E. Whittiesey, Thomas Corwin, Jo- seph Vance, Samuel F. Vinton, Jonathan Sinuan, Joseph H. Cramme. Indiana. Amos Lane, Jonathan MCarthy, John Carr, George L. Kinnard, Edward A. Hannegan, Rattuff * In the two cases marked by a star, in the above list, the seat is understood to be claimed by both the gentlenmen named.

POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. TWENTY-THIRD CONGRESS. The first session of the twenty-third Congress commenced on the first Mon- day of December. The following is a list of the Members SENATE. .Maine. Peleg Sprague, Ether Shepley. New- Hampshire. Samuel Bell, Isaac Hill. Massa- ch etto. Nathaniel Sllshee, Daniel Webster. Rhode-Joland. Nehemiah R. Knight, Asher Itobbins,* E. R. Potter.* Connecticut. Gideon Tomlinson, Nathan Smith. Terms t. Samuel Prentiss, Benjauiin Swift. New-York. Silas Wright, Nathaniel P. Tallmadge. .Nesc-Jersey. Theodore Frelinghuyoen, Samnel L. Sooth- ard. Peaasylvania. William Wilkins, Samuel MKean. Delaware. John H. Clayton, Arnold Naudain. aryland. Ezekiel F. Charembers, Jo- seph Kent. Virginin. William C. Rives, John Tyler. orth-Carolina. Bedford Brown, Will- iam P. Mangum. South-Qarolina.- John C. Cal- houn, William Pieston. Georgia. John For- syth,JohnP.King. Kentucky. GeorgeM. Bibb, Henry Clay. Tennessee. Hugh L. White, Felix Grundy. Ohio. Thomas Ewing, Thomas Mor- ris. Louisiana. George A. Waggaman, one vacancy. Indiana. William Hendricks, John lipton. .lllississippi. George Poindexter, John Black. illinois. John H. Robinson, Elias K. Kane. ~laIama. William H. Kin , Gabmiel Moore. Missouri. Lewis F. Linn, TisomasH. Henton. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATtVES. ANoaEw STEVENSON, of Virginia, Speaker. Maine. F. 0. J. Smith, Rtsfus Mtntire, Ed- ward Kavanagh, Go rham Packs, Joseph Hall, Leonard Jarvio, Hoses Mason, George Evans. New-Hampshire. Henry Hubbard, Joseph M. Harper, Henning hi. Bean, Franklin Pierce, Robert Burns. Vermont. Hiland Hall Horace Everett, Heman Allen, William Slade, Benja- min F. Denming. Massachusetts. Isaac C. Bates, Rufus Choate, John iAuincy Adams, John Davis, George N. Briggs, Edward Everett George Grennell, Jr. John Reed, Will am Hay- lies, Benjamin Gorham, Gayton P. Osgood, one vacancy. Connecticut. Jabez W. Huntington, William XV. Ellsworth, Noyes Barber, Samuel A. Foot, Ebenezer Young, Samuel Tweedy. Rhode-Island. Triotam Burges, Dutee J. Pearce. New-York. Abet Huntin4on, Isaac B. Van Bouten, Churchill C. Camobreleng, Campbell P. White, Cornelius XV. Lawrence, Dudley Selden, Aaron Ward, Abraham Hockee, John W. Brown, Ch aries Hodle, John Adams, Aaron Vanderpool, Job Pieroon, Gerrit V. Lan- sing, John Cramuer, Henry C.. H rtindale, Reu- ben Whalon, Hansom H.. Giliert, Charles MVean, Abijab Mann, Jr. Samuel Beardslev, Joel Terrell, Daniel Wardweii, Sherman Page, Noadiab Johnson, Henry Mitcheit, Nicoll Hal- sey, Samuel G. Hathaxvay, William T, ylor, William K. Fuller, Ro -land Day, Samuel Clark, John Dickson, Edward Howell, Freder- ick Whittlesey, George W. Lay, Philo C.. Ful ler, Abner Hazeltine, Mellerd Fillmore, Gideon Hard. New-Jersey. Hablon Dickerson, Sam- nel Fowler, James Parker, Ferdinand S. Schenek, William N.. Shinmi, Thomas Lee. Pennsylvania. Horace Binney, James Harper, John G. Watmough, William Heister, William Darlimigmon, David Pens, Jr. William Clark, Harmer Denny, George Chambers, T. H. F. Ht(ennan, John Banks, Andrew Stewart, Charles A. Barnitz, G. Burd, Jesse Miller, Jo- septi B. Anthoimy, Henry A. Muhlenbumrg, Joel K. Hann, Robert Ramsey, David B. Wagener, Henry King, Andrew Beaumont, Jobmi Laporte, Joseph Henderson, John Gaibraith, Samuel S~ Harrison, Richard Coulter, Joel B. So therland. Delaware. John J. Milligamh Maryland. James P. Heath, James Turner, J. T. Stoddart, tsaac iMKim, Kichard B. Carmichael, Francis Thom- as, Wiliigm C. Johnson, Littieton P. Dennis. Virginia. John H. Patton,John V. Mason, Will- lamo F. Gordon, Thomas F. Bouldin, William S. Archer, Nathaniel H. Claiborne, Jimseph W. Chinn, Charles F. Mercer, Edward Lucas, Sam- uel McDowell Moore, Andrew Stevenson, Thos. Davenport, John J. Alleum, George Loyall, James H. Gholsomm, Edgar C. Wilson, James H. Beale, William P. Taylor, John H. Fuimon, William MComas, Henry A. Wise. Norlh-Cnrolioa. H. T. Hawkins, Thomas H. Hail, William B. Shep- ard, Jesse Speight, James HMay, Aluraham Renclier, Daniel L. Barringer, Ednuumnd Deberry, Lewis Williams, A. H. Shepherd, Henry XV. Conway, Jessee A. Hynmim, James Grahaunm. So th-Corolina. James Blair, George MDulhie,, Thomas H. Singleton, William K. Ciowney,, Henry L. Piuckney, William J. Grayson, War- meim K. Davis, John H. Felder, John K. Griffin. Georgia. J. H. Wayne, R. H. Wilde, G. R.. Gilmore,, A. S. Claytomi, T. H. Foster, K. L. Gamlute, Seaborn Jomues, WitBarn Schley, John Coffee. Bahama. Clement C. Clay, Dixon H. Lewis, John Murphy, Samuel XV. Mardis, bun HKinley. Mississip i. Henry Cage, Frammklin E. Plmummer. Louisiana. Phileummon Thomas, Henry A. Humirard, Edw.D. White. Tennessee. John Bell Cave Johnson, James K. Polk, David XV. Dickinson, Hailie Peyton, John Blair, Sam- uel Huuuch, Luike Lea, James Standifer, David Crocket, John H.. Forrester, William. H. Inge, Wiliiam C. Dunlap. Kentucky. Chilton Ailan, Thomas A. Marshall, Amos Davis, Richard H.. Jobmuson, Fhonuas Chilton, K. P. Letcher, * Thoumas P. Moore 0 Bemijamin Bardin,, Chit- tenden Lyon, Martin Beatty, James Love, Chris- toptuer Tompkins, P. H. Pope, Albert G. Bawes. Ohio. Pobert T. Lytle, Tayior Webster. Will- lam Allen, Jeremiah HeLene, Thuimas L. Ha- mer, John Chaney, Robert Mitchell, John Thompson, Benjamnin Jones, Williani Patterson, Humphrey B. Leavitt, David Spangler, James H. tell, E. Whittiesey, Thomas Corwin, Jo- seph Vance, Samuel F. Vinton, Jonathan Sinuan, Joseph H. Cramme. Indiana. Amos Lane, Jonathan MCarthy, John Carr, George L. Kinnard, Edward A. Hannegan, Rattuff * In the two cases marked by a star, in the above list, the seat is understood to be claimed by both the gentlenmen named. POLITICS AND STATISTICSE UNITED STATES. TWENTY-THIRD CONGRESS. The first session of the twenty-third Congress commenced on the first Mon- day of December. The following is a list of the Ideinbers SENATE. Maine. Peleg Sprague, Ether Shepley. .New- Hampshire. Samuel Bell, Isaac Hill. Massa- cloesetts. Nathaniel Slishee, Daniel Webster. Rhode-Island. Nehemiah K. Knight, Asher Rohbins,* E. R. Potter.* Connecticut. Gideon Tomlinson, Nathan Smith. Vermont. Samuel Preumiss, Benjaniin Swift. .New- York. Silas Wright, Nathaniel P. Tallmadge. .Vesc-Jersey. Theodore Frelinghtiyoen, Samuel L. South- ard. Pennsylvania. Willi- to Wilkins, Samuel MKean. Delaware. John M. Clayton, Arnold Naudain. arylanri. Ezekiel F. Chambers, Jo- seph Kent. Virginia. William C. Rives, John Tyler. North-Garotina. Bedford Brown, Will- iam P. Mangiim. South-Carolina.- John C. Cal- houn, William Preston. Georgia. Jo n For- syth, John P. King. Kentucky. George M. Bibb, HenryClay. Tennessee. tiughL.White,Felix Grundy. Ohio. Thomas Ewing, Thomas Mor- ris. Louisiana. George A. Waggaman, one vacancy. Indiana. William Hendricks, Julio Tipton. Mississippi. George Poindexter, John Black. illinois. John M. Robinson Elms K. Kane. .qtakama. William R. Kin , Gabriel Moore. Missouri. Lewis F. Liun, Thomas H. Benton. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATtVES. Aaoavw STEVENSON, of Virginia, Speaker. sine. F. 0. J. Smith, Rufus Mtntire, Ed- ward Kavanagh, Gorham Packs, Joseph H II, Leonard Jarvis, Moses Mason, George Evans. .A~ew-Hampshire. Henry Ilubbard, Joseph M. Harper, Henning hi. Bean, Franklin Pierce Robert l3urns. Vermont. Hiland Hall, Horace Everett, Heman Allen, Wil[iam Slade, Benja- min F. Denting. Massachusetts. Isaac C. Bates, Rufus Choate, Jot-in lAuincy Adams, John Davis, George N. Brigga, Edward Lv rett, George Grennell, Jr. John Reed, Will into Bay- lies, Benjamin Gorham, Gayton P. Osgood, one vacancy. Connecticut. Jabez W. Huntington, William XV. Ellsworth, Noycs Barber, Samuel A. Foot, Ebenezer Young, Samuel Tweedy. Rhode-Island. Tristam Hurges, Dntee J. Pearce. .Mese-York. Abel Huutinton, Isaac B. Van Houten, Churchill C. Camubreleng, Campbell P. White, Cornelius W. Lawrence, Dudley Selden, Aaron Ward, Abraham Boekee, John W. Brown, Charles Bodle, John Adams, Aaron Vanderpool, Job Pierson, Gerrit V. Lan- sing, John Cramer, Henry C. Hartindale, Reu- ben Whalon, Ransom Ii. Gilleit, Charles MVean, Abijab Mann, Jr. Samuel Beardsley, Joel Terrell, Daniel Wardwell, Sherman Page, Noadiab Johnson, It enry Mitchell, Nicoll Hal- sey, Samuel G. Hathasvay, William Taylor, William K. Fuller, Rn land Day, Samuel Clark, John Dickson, Edward Howell, Freder- ick Whittlnsey, George W. Lay, Philo C. Ful her, Abner Hazettine, Mellerd Fillmore, Gideon Hard. .7Vew-Jersey. Mablon Dickerson, Sam- uel Fins ler, James Parker Ferdinand S. Scheuck, William N. Shinri, Thomas Lee. Pennsylvania. Horace Birmney, James Harper, John G. Watmougli, William Heistem, William Darlirigmon, David Potts, Jr. William Clark, Harmer Denny, George Chambers, T. M. T. MKennan, John Banks, Andrew Stewart, Charles A. Bnrnitz, G. Bard, Jesse Miller, Jo- sephi B. Anthony, Henry A. Mnblenbmmrg, Joel K. Mann, Robert Ramsey, David B. Wagener, Henry King, Andrew Beaumont, John Laporte, Joseph Henderson, John Gaibraith, Samuel ~ Harrison, Richard Coulter, Joel B. So therl nd. Delaware. John J. Milhigaum. Maryland. James P. Heath, James Turner, J. T. Stoddart, tsaac MKim, Richard B. Carratichael, Francis Thom- as, Wihiimmm C. Johnson, Littleton P. Dennis. Vir5 mm. John H. Patton, John V. Mason, Will mm F. Gordon, Thomas F. Bouldin, William S. Archer, Nathaniel H. Claihorne, Joseph W. Chinn, Charles F. Mercer, Edward Lucas, Sam- uel McDowell Moore, Andrew Stevenson, Thos. Davenport, John J. Allen, George Loyall, James H. Gholsori, Edgar C. Wilson, James H. Beale, William P. Taylor, John H. Fullon, William MComas, Henry A. Wise. .TVorth-Garolina. H. ~F Hawkins, Thomas H. Hall, William B. Shep- ard, Jesse Speight, James MMay, Abraham Reneher, Daniel L. Barringer, Ednimmod Deberry, Lewis Williams, A. H. Shepherd, Henry XV. Conway, Jessee A. Bynirm, James Graharni. South-carolina. James Blair, George MDulBe, Thomas D. Singleton, William K. Clowney,, Henry L. Pinckrtey, William J. Grayson, War- melt K. Davis, John H. Felder, John K. Griffin. Geos-5 is. J. hi. Wayne, R. H. Wilde, G. R. Gilmore, A. S. Clayton, T. 11. Foster, K. L. Gamble, Seaborn Jones, Willjarn Scbley, John Coffee. sllahnona. Clement C. Clay, Dixon H. Lewis, John Murphy, Samuel XV. Mardis, John MKinley. Mississippi. Henry Cage, Framtkhin E. Plmtmmer. Louisiana. Philemnon Thomas, henry A. Bimtrard, Edw. D. White. Tennessee. John Bell Cave Johnson, James K. Polk, David XV. Dickinson, Baihie Peyton, John Blair, Sam- uel Bummeb, Lmmke Lea, Jamnes Standifer, David Croeket, John B.. Forrester, William~ H. tnge, William C. Duntap. Kentucky. Chilton Allan, Thomas A. Marshall, Amos Davis, Richard H. Johmmson, Thonmas Chilton, K. P. Letcher,5 Thoumas P. Moore,* Benjamin Harding, Chit- tenden Lyon, Martiim Beatty, James Love, Chris- toplmcr Tompkins, P. H. Pope, Albert G. Hawes. Ohio. Rolmert T. Lythe, Taylor Webster. Will- ians Allen, Jeremiah McLene, Thummas L. Ha- mer, John Chaney, Robert Mitchell, John Thompson, Benjarmmin Jones, Williant Patterson, Humphrey H. Leavitt, David Spangler, James H. hell, E. Whittlesey, Thomas Corwin, Jo- seph Vance, Samimel F. Vinton, Jonathan Sloan, Joseph H. Cramme. Indiana. Amos Lane, Jonathan MCarthy, John Care, George L. Kinnard, Edward A. tiannegan, Ratimif 5 In the two cases marked by a star, in Ihe above hist, tise seat is understood to be claimed. by both the gentheomen named. Politics and Statistics. 73 of theline, four fti gates, eleven sloops, penditure of more than five millions and seven schooners. Efforts have and a half. The Military Academy is been made to relieve seasonably all represented as being in a prosperous those which have been more than two condition: the Secretary proposes that years abroad; the benefit of this sys- the ~ornpensation of the teacher of tern has been very great, in prev~nting drawing, Mr. Leslie, should be made the expiration of the term of service of equni to that of the professors. He re- the seamenabroad. The squadrons on ncws the suggestions which he has the several stations have been actively heretofore presented in reference to and efficiently employed. It is beheved brevet dommnissions. It is proposed to by the Secretary, that the present establish a fund for the support of inva- amount of force (530 guns) should be lid officers, and of the families of. such continued. The cost of all repairs on as may die in the service. This is de- vessels during the past year is about sired by. the officers, and all, that is $580,000. It is proposed to procure asked of the goverament is such legis- the frame for another sloop, the (yane, lative provisions, as may give efficacy and another frigate, the Paul Jones. to the plan. In. connexion with this The Secretary suggests the expedi- subject, the Secretary suggests the ex- ency of erecting two new magazines, pediency of a provision for superan~ and of the purchase of two store ships nuated soldiers, by making a deduction. for the Pacific Ocean. He renews his from the pay of each, and adding to the former recommendatkrn of the construc- proeeeds, the fines assessed by courts tion ot Steam Batteries. Additional Dry martial, the pay due to soldiers who die Docks would be found beneficial, par- without heirs, audi a certain proportion ticularly a~ New-York and Portsmouth. of the post fund. The condition of the New Hospitals have been commenced Indians, who have emigrated beyond at Pensacola, New-York, and Boston, the Mississippi, is described as highly and additional apprdpriatioims will be re- favorable. It is expected that all the quired for their completion. . The nur- Indians hi Flerid~ will soon remove. serv of live oak includes more than Fifteen thousand of the Choctaw tribe 60,000 trees, on a space of 2~5 acres, have already emigrated: from fifteen and the annual expense is about $~l ,200. hundred to three thousand only remain. The estimates of the required expendi- The result of the last attempt to induce ture for the present year amount to the Creeks to remove from Alabama is $3292224. The disbursements of the not y~t known. The sacs, Foxes, and past year amounted to more than four Winnebagoes have removed; and there million dollars. Much inconvenience remain only about five thousand In- has been experienced from the lateness . dians in the whole country north of the of the period, at which the appropria- Ohio, and east of the Mississippi. The tion bills are usually passed, and some Cherokees, in number about eleven modes are suggested, in which this in.- thousand, are the only ones south of convenience may be remedied. the Qhio, and east of the Mississippi, Time Secretary of War reports that the with whom an arrangement has not condition of the army is satisfactory, been. made; but five hundred of these and improving. Part of this intprove- are expeeted soon- to remove. The ment is to, be attributed to the act of tIme commissioners west of the Mississippi last session, which increased the pay of have settled the disputed boundary the rank and file, amid reduced the term question between the Creeks and Cher- of service~ Among the measures which okees: They are engaged in matuiing have been adopted- for the amelioration a plan for regulating the intercourse of of the moral habits of the soldiery, is the various tribes with the United the discontinuance of all parades upon States, and with each other, and for the Sabbath. As respects the medical their own internal government. The corps, t~m Secretary reco~mmends. that preparation of this will require more. their compensation should be increased, timusthan is allowed for the performance in order to. render it ~ore proportmonate, of their duties, and the Secretary pro- than it is. now, to the extent of their poses. an extension of their term of ser- services. Of the subsistence depart- vice. ment, he observes, that the act by which Thirty thousand six hundred claims it was organized is about to expire,. a-nd for pensions have been iresented under mentions in proof of its efficiency, that the act of June 7th, 1832. Twenty- during the fifteen years which have three thousand four hundred and thirty- elasped since its enactment, the loss in- eight certificates have been issued, elev- curred by defalcations has not exceed- emi hundred and.eleven, claims rejected. ed sixteen thousand dollars, in an ex- Three hundred returned cases are un. VOL. VI. 10 Politics and Statistics. dergoing further investigation. Thir- teen hundred and fifty-one, are sus- pended until additional evidence shall be furnished, and fbur thousand four hundred and twenty-five are in transitu between the parties and the office, or in the hands of the parties, for farther evi- dence and anthentication. The Postmaster- General reports, that when he took charge of this department in 1829, the annual transportation of the mail was 13,700,000 miles; and that, on the 1st of July last, it was 26,854,485 miles; that the surplus of available rev- enue, at the former period, was nomin- ally $230,849 67, but that expenses in- curred for transportation prior to that time, since ascertained and deducted, reduced the real amount to $166,600 31. rhe expense of transportation amount- ed, in 1829, to $1,153,646 21 ; in 1833, to $1,894,588 08. The gross amount of postages in 1829, was $1,707,418 42; in 1833, $2,616,538 27; and within the two periods, the expense of transporta- tion has been redueed from eight cents and four tenths per mile, to seven cents and fifty-seven hundredths. The fol- lowing is the explanation given by the Postmaster- General of the method in which the accounts for transporting the mail, have been kept It appears, from the earliest records of the de- partment, to have been a rule not ~o enter to the credit of a contractor, nor to charge to the ac- count of transportation, the expense of carrying the mail on his route, till after he had signed his contract and bond, and returned thens to the department with proper security, though the service may have beety regularly performed, and, in many instances, the moneys actually paid. It has sometimes happened that con- tracts of the greatest magnitude have, from va- rious causes, remai,,ed for mere titan a year unreturised. In such cases, though the expen- ses have been incurred, they do not appear in the transportation account, and though the moneys may have been paid to the contract6rs, they stand on the books as balances to that amount due from them to the department, con- stituting a part of its surplus fund; when, in fact, they constitute a part of the actual expen- ses incurred for the transportation of the mail. The consequence has been that the expenses for transporting the mail within any given pe- riod of time, as shown in the accounts, and re- ported annually through the Executive, have been always calculated to exhibit an amount considerably less than what has actually been incurred. This is an imperfection not of recent origin; but one which appears to have been co- existent with the department. Being deceived, as he says, in this manner, the Postmaster-General was led to carry his improvements farther than the resources of the department would sustain. The following is given as the result of an examination of the causes of the difficulty. In 1829, when he took the office, the expenses which had been incurred for transportation were greater by $64,248 76, than ap- peared by his report. In 1832, the sur- plus of available funds was represented in his report at $202,81 1 40; but when the expenses incurred for transporta- tion, prior to that time, are taken into view, the department was really indebt- ~d in the amount of $2,844 67. The expenses of the department for the year ending on the 1st of July last, were $2,806,673 31, and the gross amount of postages $2,616,538 27; leaving a de- ficit of $192,135 04, which, with the balance due at the close of the preced- ing year, and a sum paid into the treas- ury by irregular deposites, exhibit a debt, on the part of the department, of $195,208 40. The present aggregate expense of a year, is $2,123,289 42, and the net revenue for the current year, $2,037,410 81. Had the old system been continued, the department would have appeared to be less indebted, by $91,658 82, than it is in reality. Since the discovery of the excess of expendi- ture, a retrenchment of $274,163 has been made in the expenses of the de- partment, but the annual transporta- tion of the mail. will continue to be 25,527,957 miles. The Secretary of the Treasury trans.- mitted to both Houses a Letter on the Removal of the Public Deposites from the Batsk of the United States. It commences with a declaration, that he has removed the deposites, and aia ad- mission that the law had made it his duty to state to Congress his a4asons for the procedure. lie proceeds to quote the section of the law from which he derives the power over the public money, and enters upon a course of reasoning to show that his construction of the law is not a novel one. He as- serts his right to withdraw the depos- ites from the United States Bank, when- ever the change naay, in any degree, promote the public interest. It is not necessary, in his view, that the depos- ites should be unsafe in order to justify the removal. The authority to remove is not limited to such a contingency. The safety of tlae deposites,the ability of the Bank to meet its engag~nents its fidelity in the performance of its ob- ligationsare only a part of the consid- erations by which he must be guided. He comes to the conclusion that the language of the law, and the usage and practice of the Government under it,. establish the following principles: 1st. That the power of removal was intended to be reserved exclusively to the Secretary of the Treasury, and that according to the stipula- tions in the charter, Congress could not direct it to be done. 74 Politics and Statistics. 2d. That the power reeerved to the Secretary of the Treasury, does not depend for its exer- cise merely on the safety of the public money in the hands of the Bank, nor upon the fidelity with which it has conducted itself; but he has the right to remove the deposites, and it is his duty to remove them, whenever the public in- terest or convenience xviii be promoted by the change. Taking those two principles as un- questionable, Mr. Taney proceeds to state the reasons which induced him to believe that it was necessary for the in- terest and convenience of the people, that the Bank of the United States should cease to be the depository of the public money. The following is the summary of the reasons for the re- moval 1st. That the Bank, bein~ the fiscal agent of the Government, in the duties which the law requires it to perform, is liable to all the respon- sibilities which attach to the character of agett, in or~linary cases of prirtcital and agent among individuals; and it is, therefore, the duty of the officer of the Government, to whom the power has been entrusted, to xvithdraw from its pee- session the public funds whenever its conduct towards its principal has been such as would induce a prudent man in private life to dismiss his agent from huis employment. 2d. That by means of its Exchange Commit- tee, it has so atranged its business, as to de- prive the pimblic servants of thoeeopportttnities of observing its conduct, xvhich the law has provided for the safety of the public money confided to its care; and that there is sufficient evidence to show that this anrangement on the part of the Bank was deliberately planned, and is still persisted in, for the purpose of con- cealment. 3d. That it has, also, in the case of the three per cent, stock, attd of tlte Bill of Exchattge nine France, enuleavored, unjustly, to advance its own interests, at the expense of the interests and the just rights of the people of the Usmited States. If these propositions he established it is very clear that a man of ordinary prtstlence, in pri- vate life, would withdraw his fiuteds from an agent who had titus behaved hitnoelf, in rela- tion to his principal ; atud it follows, that it was the duty of the Secretary of the Treasury to withdraw the funds of t e United States from the Bank. 4th. That there is sufficient evidence to shoxv that the Bank has been, and still is, seeking to obtain political power, and has used its money for the purpose of influencing the election of the ptmblic servants; and it was incumbent upon the Secretary of the Treasttry, on that accou t, to withdraw from its possession the money of the tJnited States, xvhich it was thus citing for improper pturposes. Upon the whole, I have felt myself bound, by the strongest obligations, to remove the deposites. The obli _ation was imposed upon me by the near approach of the time when this corporation will cease to exist, as well as by the course of conduct which it has seen fit to pursue. The Public Lends. The President re- turned ho the Senate a bill, passed at the last session,appropriating, for a term of years, the proceeds of the sales of public lands, accompanied by a mes- sage containing his reasons for with- holding his assent. The messaoe en- ters into a historical view of the manner in which the public lands were acqteired, and the terms on which they are now held, by the United States, and draws from the view the following inferences: that, by one of the fundamental princi- ples of the original confederation, Ihey were to be the common property of the United States: that they were ceded and accepted on the express condition, that they should be disposed of for the common benefit of the states, according to their proportions its the general charge and expenditure, and for no oth- er purpose; and that, in pursuance of these compacts, the Congress of the Confederation proceeded to sell these lands, and place the proceeds in the Treasury, and under the Constitution have repeatedly pledged them for the payment of the public debt, by which each state was expected to profit in proprortion to the general charge made upon it for that object. The bill, in the opinion of the President, subverts these compacts. 1st. Because, in addition to an equal share with others, seven states xre to receive 12 1-2 per cent, on the Bet amount sold wtthin their limits 2d. Because it abandons the true ratio of distribution according to the general charge and expenditure, and adopts that of the federal representative polsula- tion : 3d. Because it re-asserts the principle of the Maysville road bill, by which Congress utidertoole to appropri- ate the public funds to objects of a local character within the states: 4th. Be- cause, instead of returning to the peo- ple an unavoidable surplus of revenue paid in by them, its object is to create a surplus for dtstrsbution among the states, and thus to lead directly to con- solidatton. Report ott the Finances. The annual report of the Secretary of the Treasury, on the state of the finances, furnishes the folloxving The Receipts into the Treasury during the three first quar- ters of this year, are estimated at $24,355,317: the Receipts for the fourth quarter are estimated at $7,675,000 making the total Revenue, for the year 1833, $32,03Q,317. The E penditures of the first three quarters of the present year are estimated at $18,248,388. The Expenditures for the fourth quarter, in- cluding $2,301,716 on the account of the Public Debt, are estimated at $6,409,919making a total expendi- ture, within the year, of $24,658,304. The estimated balance, which will be in the Treasury on the first day of Janua- ry next, (including $1,400,000 unavail- able flinds, heretofore reported, and also 75 Politics and Statistics. including more than five millions of dollars of unexpended appropriations,) is estimate(l at . 9,3S3~790. The esti- mate fbr 1834 is, that, after the entire extinction of the Public Deht, during the year, there will be in the Treasury, on the first day of January, 1835, a bal- ance of $2,961,796. From the state of the revenue, the Secretary says, it is evident, that a reduction of the reve- nue cannot, at this time., he made, with- out njury to the service. The Secre- tary also says, that, under such-circum- stances, there seems to he no suffi- cient reason to open, at this time, the vexed question of the Tariff. The only recommendations in the Report, re- .fer to the necessity of-a regard toecon- omy by Congress in the appropriations -of money; the unclaimed dividend,s on United States Stock.; and the necessity of new buildings for the Treasury, on different plans and different sites from the old ones. United States Bank. The IYirectors of this institution have published the Report of a committee on the removal of the deposites, and the reasons as- signed for that measure, in the papers of PresidentJackson and the Govern- inent Directors. The report begins by attributing the hostility of Gen. Jack- son to the Bank to the failure of an- at- tempt, made early in his administration, to make the management of the insti-tu- lion subservient to political purposes. It proceeds to discuss the reasons as- signed for the removal of the deposites, arjd the question of the Presidents au- thority. -It maintains that the act is an illegal exercise of authority, and pro- ceeds to show that the reasons assigned for it are unfounded. These re& sons are examined in detail, and some impor- tant misstatements of fact, in the two documents, are exposed. On the sub- ject of-the expenditures for printing, to influence the elections, the report states that the Government Directors must have perceived, that of the eighty thou- sand dollars which they represent as expended for these dbjects, $24,591 were expended for making and printing bank notes; $1,848 for blank forms and other necessary papers; $6,053 for books and stationary, and $653 for va- rious miscellaneous expenses. It states that as the general result of the inves- tigation of the committee on this sub- ject, that in four years the bank has been obliged to incur an expense of $58,000, to defend itself against injuri- ous misrepresentations. It asserts the clear right of the hank to defend itself equally against those whocirculate false statements and those who circulate false notes; its sole object in both cases being self defence. The report con- cludes with proposing the following resulution Resolced, That the removal of the public funds from the Bank of the United States, under the circumstances, arid in the manner in which it has been effected, is a vio1a~on ot the contract between the govern merit and the Bank and that the President be instructed to present a memorial to Congress, re- questing that redress shouldbe afforded for the wrong whi~h has been done the institution. PENNSYLVANIA -In the message of Governor Wolf to the Legislature, the system of Juris- prudence, the Penitentiary system, ,a State system of Education, the Militia, changes in the principle of grantiimg chartera, and Internal I mnprovements, are the prominent topics. The civil code is under a course of revision, by Commissioners appointed by the state, who have reported in part, and are industriously prosecuting the work. The plan of discipline, adopt- ed in the Eastern Penitentiary, at Philadelphia, is highly commended. The number of convicts in prison on the 1st of November, was one hundred and thirty-two. Of the fifty-two con- victs discharged since the commence- ment of the institution, not one has re- turned. The whole earnings of the establishment from its commencement down to the first of October, show a balance over the expenditures of a few hundred dollars ; but the balance for the last ten months was unfavorable. This is attributed, among other things, to the want of capital; and a sugges- tion is thrown out that the state -might -advantageously furnish it. The subject of Universe-i Education is taken up, and earnestly urged. The fact is announced, that While the state has expended many millions in iInprov- ing the physical corrditi n of the state, it has not appropriated a single dollar, that is available, for the intellectual im- provement of-its youth. The estimate of the Governor, founded on the last census, gives an - aggregate of 730,269 persons requiring instruction, of whom at least 400,00() come under the desig -nation, in the Constitution, of those en- titled to be taught gratis. Of this number, 20,000 were returned as re -ceivsng aid out of county funds, leav 76 Politics and Statistics. ing 380,000 entirely uninstructed. The fund for Common School Education, established in 1831, is to accumulate until the income is $100,000 per annum. Its present capital is $546,563, and its accumulations, it is estimated, will reach the necessary magnitude in 1843, but, in the mean time~ they are un- available for the purposes of education. Governor Wolf presses immediate at- tention to this subject, with a view, princilially, of securing a sufficient number of competent teachers, for which end he favors the manual labor schools, and recommends the extension of state patronage to them, as well as to other literary institutions, that have not yet received it. The Governor objects strongly to the indiscriminate readiness with which corporate privileges and monopolies have been conferred by the Legislature, and advises a restraint in this profose liberality. He prefers that every branch of business should be left as much as possible to individual enterprize and competition. To the ordinary feature of corporations,the privilege of voting by proxy,he expresses a decided hos- tility, and recommends its abolition in future. The existing Militia system is repro- hated in the customary and universal style of Executive I\]essages. The Internal Improvements of the State have not been completed, as was anticipated. Seventy-two additional miles of Canal and Rail-road have been put in operation during the year, and the tolls have increased three fold. Governor Wolf estimates the tolls of the ensuing year at $500,000. A per- severance in the system is ureed, to ae- cure the state Improvements against the rivalry of New-York, and Southern competitors for the western trade. He looks upon it to be the duty of Penn- sylvania, threatened as she is, on all sides, to be deprived of that commerce which the God of Nature seems to have destined for her use, in her own defence to force the waters of Lake Erie to mingle with those of the Alleghany and the Delaware; the Ohio canal to hecome tributary to her own extensive improvement, and the. waters of the Cayuga and Seneca lakes, by means of the Elmira canal, to unite with those of the Susquehanna The Treasury is in a flourishing con- dition. The receipts from ordinary sources of income exceed those of the former year by $57,744, and after de- fraying all the expenses of government, and repaying to the Internal improve- meat Fund the sum of $135,897leave a balance in the Treasury of $367,423. VIRGINIA. We learn, from the message of Gov- ernor Floyd to the Legislature, that a system of Internal Improvements is likely to become popular in that state; the people of which, seem to be suita- bly impressed with an idea of the im- portance of roads aod canals to the prosperity of the commonwealth. The improvements appear, from the nies- sage, to be in a promising condition. The message refers to an accompany- ing communication from a gentleman of much scientific knowledge an drepu- tation, exeoiJ)lifyiog the sources of wealth, which Virginia possesses in her mines of bituminous coal, gold lead, copper, gypsum, and many valuable earths for manures. The fiscal affairs of the state are declared to be in a pros- perous condition. The University, and the colleges and schools generally, are recommended to the attention and pat- ronage of the legislature. The Gover- nor also suggests the expediency of es- tablishing an asylum for the deaf and dumb and the blind. It recommends the establishment of a fund sufficient to raise a monument over the remains of Washington, and the erection of a stat- ue of Patrick henry in the hall of the legislature. He is opposed to the mea- sure of the national government, by which the public motley has been placed in the state banks, and a large portion of the message is occupied on this and collateral topics. NORTH-CAROLINA. The message of Governor Swain, to the Legisluture of North-Carolina, was delivered on the 18th of November. It urges, with force and earnestness, sev- eral important subjects of legislation. That of Interoal Improvement occupies a prominent place among them. Refer- ring to the report of the Board of Pub- lic Works, about to be laid before the Legislature, he expresses the opinion that the condition of existing incorpora- tions is much more prosperous than is generally supposed, and that the partial failures of former efforts to improve the state, are not, under the circumstances, matters of surprise, nor just grounds for discouragement. The introduction of rail-roads, he looks upon as a new era in the annals of physical hnprove- meat. A detailed exposition of the re- sources of the state, and the various systems, modes and prospects of inn- provement, will be made by the Board. 77 78 The views of the Governor are, that one great channel of intercommunica- tion should have the exclusive atten- tion and patronage of the Government; and that with respect to works of a local character, it is the safest and wisest course to incorporate coml~anies in every section of the state where they may he necessary, and to subscribe for a uniform portion of stock in each on the condition that no part of the public subscription shall be demanded until the private stockholders shall have paid, or secured the payment of their subscriptions. On the subject of Public Education, the language of the message is cau- tious, and its suggestions not favorable to any immediate extension of a gen- eral system throughout the state. The fund is yet small, and the sparseness of the population renders its application, or that of a much larger amount, to general benefit, entirely impracticable. He thinks it the soundest policy, to open, as soon as practicable, avenues of communication, by turnpikes, rail-roads and canals; that by these means, ex- tended commercial facilities, and close connexions, may stimulate to and re- ward agricultural exertion, and increas- ed production and enlarged means will be followed by the desire and ability to establish a just, equal, and efficient scheme of public instruction. A region of country, called the Swamp lands, belonging to the etate, has been given by the Legislature to the Literary Fund. The report of engineers shows it to be a munificent gift, which, nuder judicious management, may produce immense profits. It is three-fifths of tracts amounting to two and a half mill- ions of acres, and therefore consists of fifteen hundred thousand ncres of land, which, as unappropriated marsh lltnd, is a source of disease, but when drain- ed and put under cultivation, will be among the most fertile and productive in the state. Banks and Banking, form a topic of the message. The stock of the Bank of North-Carolina, which was incorpo- rated at the last session, has not been filled up, according to the charter, and substitutes are necessary. The Govern- or objects, on constitutional grounds, and other considerations of policy and politics, to a Bank of the State, and re- commends the establishment of Banks at such places as the business of the country may require ,the aggregate amount of capital not to exceed three millions of dollars, and the direction to be confided to the individual stock- holders; the dividends never to exceed such rate per cent. as may be regarded a fair equivalent for the use and hazard of the investment; the average amount of public moneys on deposite to be con- sidered as capital stock, and the Public Treasurer to be entitled to dividends accordingly. The Governor gives a description of the state of the law, civil and criminal, in North-Carolina, and urges the neces- sity of an early revisal. Great confu- sion, perplexity, and contradiction pre- vail in every department. He says, The earliest statute i~ force in this state was enacted in the year 1235, in the reign of Henry LII. Our Revised Code, as it is termed, commences with the provincial laws passed by the Gen- eral Assembly whi~h sat at Little River in 1715, omitting the entire legislation of the mother country with regard to this state, during a period of four hun- dred and ninety years, and embracing more than a hundred entire statutes or parts of statutes. Of these, many relate to the criminal law of the country, sev- eral create capital felonies, or punish, capitally, offences that were previously subject to a milder penalty; and yet it is believed that complete copies of these enactments are not to be found in half a dozen libraries in the state. The condition of the Finances of the state ic not detailed, except that for several years the expenditures have exceeded the revenue. This is attrib- uted to the faulty mode of assessing and raising taxes; and a revision of the system is urged. SOUTH-CAROLINA. Governor Hayness Message to the Legislature is chiefly occupied with a detail of the progress, and what he calls the triumph, of Nullification, in the Convention proceedings, the Ordinance, and the consequent military prepara- tions. An argument is included in this branch of the subject, against the Proc- lamation of the President, and the Force Bill, designed, as he describes it, for no other purpose than to embody, in the form of law, the odious princi- ples of the Proclamation, with a view that they might be called into action at some future period. After several col- umns of discussion, the opinion is au- thoritatively promulgated, that there is no middle ground between an ac- knowledgement of the principles of Nullification, and the undisguised ad- mission that ours is a consolidated Government, without limitation of pow- er. To these sentiments and doctrines, Politics and Statistics. the Governor adds a very strong de- nunciation of the principles and ineas- ures of the Federal Government, as now administered. The Finances of the state are represented to be prosper- ous. On the 1st of October there was a favorable balance of $162,037. The surplus for the ensuing year will not fall short of $50,000which sum he suggests may he applied to a contin- uance of military preparations. In considering the late arming of volun- teers and raising of regular troops to combat the Federal Government, Gov- ernor Haynes takes occasion to contend that slave-holding states are peculiarly strong, morally and physically, in times of war, and that their slaves are, under such circumstances, a means of security and plenty, rather than dread or im- poverishment. Slavery, he affirms to be no evil, but that it brings along with it corresponding advantage in ele- vating the character, contributing to the wealth, enlarging the resources, and adding to the strength of the state in which it exists; and in our own country in particular, in eminently con- tributing to the prosperity and welfare of the Union Connected with the further establishment of Nullification, he calls the attention of the Legislature to the subject of the Test Oath, recom- mending that, if adopted, it should be confined to officers chosen hereafter; and that it should also embody the obli- gation to support the Constitution and obey the laws of the Union. The d6- mestic and municipal suggestions of the Message are embraced in a few passages. The reformation of the legal system of the state, civil and criminal, is offered for consideration, and partic- ular attention invited to the subject of Education. $50,000, annually, are ex- pended by the state, in behalf of the South-Carolina College and Free Schools. The income of the Public Works of the state is very smallnot exceeding $15,000 per annum, over the cost of management, although the state has incurred a debt of $2000000, in constructing them. In many parts of the state, canals have been constructed, which do not yield sufficient to pay their current expenses, and with the exception (if the State Road, and the Columbia Canal, there is hardly a pub- lic work in the state, which, put up at public auction, would find a purchaser. An alteration in the mode of manage- ment is proposed in the hope of increas- ing the revenue. South- Carolina college. The annual commencement of this institution took 79 place on the 2d of December, when the de,~ree of Bachelor of Arts was confer- red on thirty-seven young gentlemen, and that (if Master of Arts on three. In the course of an address, made upon the occasion by President Cooper, he stated, tha.t he had resigned the Presi- dency in consequence of receiving an invitation from the menibers of the bar in Columbia, to deliver a course of law lectures in that city. His resignation had been accepted; but lie was still to remain connected with the college as a lecturer on Chemistry and Miner- alogy. GEORGIA. The message of Governor Lumpkin, communicated to the Legislature of Georgia, on the 5th of December, states, that the people have, during the past year, enjoyed an unusual degree of health and prosperity; that the sur- plus products of labor command a price which amply remunerates the laborer fur his industry and care; that most of the people of the state cultivate their own freehold estates; that there are no insolvent debtors in the prisons; and that there is scarcely a pauper in the state, except those who have become such from habits of intemperance. In reference to the Cherokees, he says, that the failure to conclude a treaty with them, has not prevented the con- tinuance of efforts to induce them to remove; and that many of the most intelligent and influential of their num- ber have accepted the terms proposed to them; so that the day is, probably, not far distant, when the state will be entirely relieved from this portion of its population. Ihe financial resources of the state amount to about two mill- ions and a half of dollars; and there is a scattered remnant of fractional lands, which may be made available for public purposes. The annual income arising from these sources amounts to about $120,000. On the subject of ed- ucation, he proposes the adoption of a system, which shall extend its benefits to the whole community, aiid shall be of a physical as well as intellectual character; and that the present an- nual expenditure fur common schools, ($40,000) instead of being diminished, shall be more advantageously applied. As respects internal Improvements, he recommends the construction of a great central rail-road from some emporium on the Atlantic coast, in a direction best calculated to accommodate the largest portion of the population, to the base of the mountains. Politics and Statistics. Politics and Statistics. A Board of Commissioners appointed under a resolution of the legislature, to examine and report on the expediency of opening the port of Brunswick to the interior of the state, have made a report, in which they give their opinion that it is advisable for the state to render in- mediate aid, in effecting that object. The Commissioners describe the situa- tion of Brunswick as particularly well adapted for becoming a populous city, as well as for a naval depot. It is situ- ated on Turtle river, eirrhteen miles from the bar at its mouth, on which, at low tide, there are sixteen feet of water, arid at high water twenty-two feet. They describe the harbor as the best and safest on the Southern coast, with the exception of Norfolk. The site of the town is described as a beautiful bluff of close sand, perfectly dry, elevated from eight to ten feet above high water, and extending along the river about two miles. Tue neighborhood is free from lagunes and swamps of stagnant fresh water, and it is surrounded by an ex- panse of salt water or of salt marshes, which are flowed at every tide by salt water. From these advantages of posi- tion it is considered, in reg~.rd to health, superior to any sea port on the Southern coast. Turtle river, however, extends but a short distance into the interior, and that the people of Georgia may de- rive any benefit from the excellence of the harbor, it is necessary to connect the town, by means of a rail.road, with the Altainaha river, through the navi- gable channels uf which and its branch- es, the Oconee and Ocri~u1gee,an inter- course might be opened to a great por- tion of the state, the trade of which might thus be confined within the state, instead of being diverted, as it is now likely to be, over the Sooth-Carolina rail-road to Charleston. The distance from Brunswick to the Altamaha is but eleven miles, over a flat country, and the cost of a rail-road is estimated by the Commissioners at $70,000. ALABAMA. The message of Governor Gayle, at the opening of the lecislatnre ,gives a long account of the difficulties, which have arisen between the state of Ala- bama and the President of the United States. The prominent facts in this detail, were recorded in the Magazine fur December. The messaee recom- mends the establishment of a Peniten- tiarv, and presses with great earnest- ness an improvement in the cri- inal jurisprudence of the rtate. Forgery and murder, by the present laws, are crimes of equal magnitude, and hot.h are pun- ished by death. The whipping.post, the pillory, and the branding-iruri, are also still authorized in Alabama as in- strunients for the punishmeiit of vari- ous crimes. The University is repre- sented in a flourishing condition. The department of instruction has been con- ducted in the most able arid satisfactory manner. Several youIig gentlemen were graduated at the end of the last collegiate year, and their final examin- ation was such as to afford satisfactory evidence that they took leave of their scholastic pursuits with an education that would not suffer by a comparison with that which is obtained at Colleges of hioher standino in the United States. The 7ohce of the institution is upon a footing to insure harmony and good order; and the discipline, which has been established, aims at the moral as well as the literary advancement of the students. Provision is made by the Trustees, for giving tuition gratuitously to one student of promising character and indioent circumstances, from each county ii~ the state. The Governor ex- presses dissatisfaction with Mr. Clays compromise bill,on the ground that the time it allows, for the reduction of the tariff, is unreasonably long; arid says, the bill should be remodeled, as soon as it can be done, without renewing the discontent which it so happily quieted. TENNESSEE. The Committee on Statistics state, that the population thereof was, in 1832, 681,902including 141,603 blacks, and 4555 free persons of color. The ex- tent of territory is 45.000 square miles, or 28,000,000 acres. The exports coin- prise 150,000 bales of cotton, of the value of $6000000; corn and live stock, $l,020.000; iron, $800,000; to- bacco, 4,000 hhds. $120,000; and other articles $290,000total, $8,140,000. The public debt is only $50t),000, and pro- duces to the state a profit often per cent. on the amount. The revenue collected is $93338, while the taxes assessed are $122,542. $21,000 of this sum is raised by a tax of twenty-five cents on 84,000 slaves; $17,854, on a tax of eighteen and three-fourths cents on 95,229 white polls. Stud horses produce a revenue of $3372; taverns are taxed in the sum of ~1.110, and merchants in that of $31.563. Law proceedin~s produce a revenue of $8.769L Under a rigid system of collection. & c. it is supposed that the state would have a surplus revenue of $50000. The value of the public lands subject to the approprint 80 PeRsia aid Stetialica. 81 tion of the stats for herm benefit, is 500,000. The real estate, or 17,000,0W acres of granted land, is estimated Who worth or~r~e Tennessee has metals and of corn!; and tow countries have so many streams adapted for mila The m)lLs are now principally those foi flour, pa. per, and iron. OHIO. The Legislature met at Colabueb on the second of December. The Ales. sage of Governor Lucas was transmit- ted to both Houses on the next day. General recommendations to estahlish a system of common sehool education, and to afford state patronage to literary institutions of a higher character~form thefirattopiesof the message, to which succeeds theimportaot subject of Bank- ing and the Currency. Tao existing deliciency in the ciroulating medium in the state of Ohio, ha attributes, not to the usually assigned cause, to winding Lof thUm ted States Bank.~the ho thinks small, and limited to theparticular places inwhich to branchesof that institntion. are lo- cated,but U, the oompletion of the public improvements of thestate, which has withdrawn several millions of do!- Jars from to floating capital that has been in circulation br the hal flue years. The remedy suggested is to establishment of a State Bamk, with branches in every past of the state where to wants of bupiness require it, with capital proportioned to the de- mand. Congress has appuopriated a large tract of had in Ohio, mounting to 950,0* sares, to to benefit of to State of Indiana, thu to construction of the Wabash and Erie canal, which is to unite the Wabash rivor,.which foIls into the Ohio,with the Alsaimec river, which fail, into Lake Erie. Seventy-eIght miles of the canal lie within the State of Ohio. The state of Indiana offers thelandato the state of Ohio, a condition of completing so much oftecanalsslies inthabatate within the time limited by the act of Congressthat ii, before 1847. The Governorrecommends the acceptance of the offer, particvlarl4v with the view of brir~~the lands into the market, the state. Selections of lands, granted by Congress to the state,in aid of the Miami Caumihave been made to the extent of 484,106 acres, of which about thrse.Mha, lying mere than five miles from the eanal, have been offered for ale. The rest, lying within five milesof the canal, are still subject to a right of selection of alternate sections,by the United States, which selections have not yet been made. They cannot, therefore be brought into the market Sales Lave been made of the first mentioned lands sufficient te justifr the commencement of the work. Difficulties, however, have arisenbetween the state anton- ties, and the United States Treasury Department, respecting. the constrnc- tion of the act, and. to Governor an ticipates some~ edings to obstruct the worL, but doas not explain to ~ of difibrance. TL. National Road is reeresented to be in very bad order, requiring ox- uant to the com- States. The new commenced In owing tote among the convict summer. A hal , for. Deaf i aggre gate amber of to mnilitie In to state as 139,161. H. urges the abolishment of imprisonment for debt, except in cases of evident thud. Ho recom- mends the establishment of a Board of Publie Works. The finances of the state in a prosperous condition. Iha balance in to Treasury, on the fifteenth of November, was 185,193. The whole canal debt of to state~for- 4b and domestic, Is ~,064j391. The tolls of the state canals have amount- ed to 179,979, viu:Ohio .Cbnal, 130,095; Miami 09,946. Dedueting to expenma of ceilectiot, .(~,614) and adding the proeeedsoftho sales of canal hada, (I15,750,) and aramall for water rents; and the whole in- come of the canal. is about p88,000. exceeding the interest payable on the debt, by about,000. lie Governor anticipates that the tolls of next year will be sufficient to pay the interest on to wholo canal deb% and will gradual- ly thereafter meumulate a surplus, sufficient in amount, If profitably In- vested, to extinguish the whole canal debt by to time itbecomeadusi voL. n. 1! LITERARY NOTICES. The Writings of George Washing- ton being his Correspondence, Addresses, Messages, and.. other Papers, official and pri- vate, selected. d published, from tire Orig- irial Manuscripts, with a Life of the Author, Notes, arid lihistrations. By dared Sparks. Vol. It. We have here the first fruits of Mr. Sparkss indefatigable labors in an un- dertaking worthy of all praise and en- couragement. We had looked forward to the appearance of this important work, not with the expectation that its contents would serve to add materially to our exalted estimate of Washinotons character and talents, nor with the smallest apprehension that it would in any ~vise diminish it; but with the belief that we should become better acquainted with the man, with the open- ing an progress of his great mind, with the proofs of wisdom and foresight in the steps and processes which led to well-known results, and, in general, with his moral qualities, as distinguish- ed from his mere intellectual superior- ity. In the memorials, which he left, there is, indeed, scarcely any thing which relates merely to himself. His voluminous correspondence and other writings grew mainly out of his public stations, and there is nothing in them which savors of the vanity of the auto- biographer, or ministers to a restless ap- petite for prying into the weaknesses and frivolities of distinguished men. But still they furnish materials, as they necessarily must, lbr coming at a knowl- edge rif the author. So far as it appears, Washington en- joyed only very moderate opportunities of early edccation. Mr. Sparks has found some fragments of his school manuscripts, front which it seems that his early bent was towards mathemat- ical studies. It seems probable that his acquaintance with language was confin- ed to his molber tongue. With this however, he had a thorough practical knowledge, and his writings, from his youth upwards, are distinguished not only by neatness, purity,, perspicuity, and idiomatical propriety, but by un- common gracefulness and dignity. The most remarkable thing in the Manu scripts, which we have mentioned, is a collection of axioms, to which he gave the title of Rules of Civility and De- cent Behavior in Company and Con- versation. This collection is contain- ed in a Manuscript, written when he was thirteen years old. The maxims extend not merely to conventional forms of politeness, but to some of the higher principles of morals,and show at what a remarkably early period he was preparing himself for living and acting among men, under the guidance of the purest principles of honor, and of a deep, religious sense of the sacred- ness of the duties arising from social relations. Washington early manifested an in- clination for military life. When four- teen years old, he wished to enter the navy ; but, its consequence of the great reluctance of his mother, the plan was abandoned. His activity took another direction, and, at the age of sixteen, he became a practical surveyor. He was appointed one of the adjutants- g.eneral of Virginia in the year 1751, being nineteen years old, and his ap- pointment was renewed two years after by the provincial Governor, Din widdie. About this tinme comnienced the aggres- sions of the French on what was re- garded as British territory, beyond the Allegany Mountains; and, from the close of 1753 to the close of 1758, Washington was engaged, first, as a commissioner to ascertain the designs of the French, and afterwards in dif- ferent military capacities, during the greater part of the French War, as it is commonly called. More than half the volume before us is taken up with his official correspondence in relation to this war. The greater part of his let- ters are addressed to the Goverucinr of Vir inia. who manifestly bore no good will to Washington, and who never ap- pears to have been grateful for any ad- vice, or to have listened patiently to any expostulations, however reasonable or well-founded they might be, and however exclusively they pertained to military operations at a distance. The Governor was more apt to chide than

LITERARY NOTICES. The Writings of George Washing- ton being his Correspondence, Addresses, Messages, and.. other Papers, official and pri- vate, selected. d published, from tire Orig- irial Manuscripts, with a Life of the Author, Notes, arid lihistrations. By dared Sparks. Vol. It. We have here the first fruits of Mr. Sparkss indefatigable labors in an un- dertaking worthy of all praise and en- couragement. We had looked forward to the appearance of this important work, not with the expectation that its contents would serve to add materially to our exalted estimate of Washinotons character and talents, nor with the smallest apprehension that it would in any ~vise diminish it; but with the belief that we should become better acquainted with the man, with the open- ing an progress of his great mind, with the proofs of wisdom and foresight in the steps and processes which led to well-known results, and, in general, with his moral qualities, as distinguish- ed from his mere intellectual superior- ity. In the memorials, which he left, there is, indeed, scarcely any thing which relates merely to himself. His voluminous correspondence and other writings grew mainly out of his public stations, and there is nothing in them which savors of the vanity of the auto- biographer, or ministers to a restless ap- petite for prying into the weaknesses and frivolities of distinguished men. But still they furnish materials, as they necessarily must, lbr coming at a knowl- edge rif the author. So far as it appears, Washington en- joyed only very moderate opportunities of early edccation. Mr. Sparks has found some fragments of his school manuscripts, front which it seems that his early bent was towards mathemat- ical studies. It seems probable that his acquaintance with language was confin- ed to his molber tongue. With this however, he had a thorough practical knowledge, and his writings, from his youth upwards, are distinguished not only by neatness, purity,, perspicuity, and idiomatical propriety, but by un- common gracefulness and dignity. The most remarkable thing in the Manu scripts, which we have mentioned, is a collection of axioms, to which he gave the title of Rules of Civility and De- cent Behavior in Company and Con- versation. This collection is contain- ed in a Manuscript, written when he was thirteen years old. The maxims extend not merely to conventional forms of politeness, but to some of the higher principles of morals,and show at what a remarkably early period he was preparing himself for living and acting among men, under the guidance of the purest principles of honor, and of a deep, religious sense of the sacred- ness of the duties arising from social relations. Washington early manifested an in- clination for military life. When four- teen years old, he wished to enter the navy ; but, its consequence of the great reluctance of his mother, the plan was abandoned. His activity took another direction, and, at the age of sixteen, he became a practical surveyor. He was appointed one of the adjutants- g.eneral of Virginia in the year 1751, being nineteen years old, and his ap- pointment was renewed two years after by the provincial Governor, Din widdie. About this tinme comnienced the aggres- sions of the French on what was re- garded as British territory, beyond the Allegany Mountains; and, from the close of 1753 to the close of 1758, Washington was engaged, first, as a commissioner to ascertain the designs of the French, and afterwards in dif- ferent military capacities, during the greater part of the French War, as it is commonly called. More than half the volume before us is taken up with his official correspondence in relation to this war. The greater part of his let- ters are addressed to the Goverucinr of Vir inia. who manifestly bore no good will to Washington, and who never ap- pears to have been grateful for any ad- vice, or to have listened patiently to any expostulations, however reasonable or well-founded they might be, and however exclusively they pertained to military operations at a distance. The Governor was more apt to chide than commend; but Washington never lost his self-respectnever failed to blend courtesy with firmness. Towards the close of his administration, Governor Dinwiddie issoed an order, which Wash- ington evidently regarded as unreason- able, and which was accompanied with complaints and censure. The latter gave assurances that he should comply with the order, and added, I must beg leave, however, before I con- clude, to observe, in justification of my own conduct, that it is with pleasure I receive re- proof when reproof is due, because no person can be readier to accuse me, than I am to ac- knowledge an error, when I am guilty of cue; nor more desirous of atoning for a crime, when I am sensible of having conmitt d it. But, on the other hand, it is with concern I remark, that my best endeavors lose their reward, and that my conduct, although I have uniformly studied to make it as unexceptionable as I could, does not appear to you in a favorable point of light. Otherwise your honor would not accuse me of loose behavior, and remissness of duty. in matters where, I believe, I have rather ex- ceeded than liellenhort of it. p. 248. It is probable that mahy readers will think that a more full selection of Wa h. ingtons Correspondence, concerning the French War, is published by Mr. Sparks, than the case demands. But let them compare what he has done in this matter, with the judicious rules by which his selections for the whole work have been governed, and we are confi- dent that they will find no cause of complaitet. These rules are, First to select uch parts [of Washingtons writings] as have a pertnanent value on account of the historical facts which they contain, whether in relation to ac- tual events or to the political designs and operations, in whichhe was a lead- ing or conspicuous agent; secondly, to comprise such other parts as contain the views, opinions, cotinsels ,andre- flections of the writer on all kinds of topics, showing, thereby, the structure of his mind, its powers and resources, and the strooff and varied points of his character. The results here contem- plated may be perceived by the atten- tive reader of these letters, few of which have before been prtblished. And from the character of the voluminous writ- ings, from which the editors selections are made, it must often have been very difficult to decide what to otnit, in order to bring them within the compass en- tended; for there is no superfluity in Washingtons writings; and when we find in his correspondence, line upon line. it is only to awake attention to that which his comprehensive mind had deliberately judged important. He was always firm, rarely, if ever, sanguine. He was able to look difficulties in the 83 face, with steady, unblenching eye, even when he saw clearly that what could be accomplished would fall short of public expectation. The letters are worthy of a veteran commander. Tile writer is always in advance of the gov-, erutnetet by which he was commisseon- ed, in foresig-ht,a.~ d points out, in the plainest tertns, and in the most direct and unhesitating manner, every thing requisite for the service. When he goes beyond the tuere enechanical rou- tine of official duty in his communeca- tions, as is often the case, the sincerity of his apology in offering what was dic- tated by an imperious sense of duty, is so manifest, that it is impossible to charge him with arrogance and pre- sumption, or to doubt his ability to in- struct those to whom he was accounta- ble, in regard to the measures proposed by him. We cannot enlarge upon this subject, nor can we quit the letters without giving an example of the strength of his feelings of hutnanity, so peculiarly winning in the hero and warrior. In a letter to the Governor dated, Winchester, 22d April, 1756, speaking of the straits to which he and the inhabitants of that place were re- duced, he adds I am too little acquainted, sir, with pathetic language to attempt a description of the peoples distresses, though t have a generous soul, sen- sible of wrongs, and swelling for redress. But what can I do? I see their sitetation, know their danger, and participate their sufferings, without having it in my power to give them further relief, than uncertain promises. In short, I see inevitable destruction in so clear a light, that, unless vigorous measures are taken by the Assembly, and speedy assistance sent from below, the poor inhabitants that are now in forts, must unavoidably fall, while the re- mainder are flying before the barbarous foe. tn fine, the melancholy situation of the people, time little prospect of assistance, the gross and scan- dalous abuses cast upon the cers in general, which is reflecting uponme in particular, for suf- fering misconduct of such extraordinary kinds, and tIme distaut prospect, if any, of gaining hon- or and reputatiome in the servicecause me to lameat the hour, that g- ye me a commission, arid would induce me, at any other time than this of imuninent d nger, to resign, without one hesitatmngmrmenm, a command, from which I never extuoct to reap eitherh or orbenefim, but, on the contrary, have almost an absolute cer- tainty of iucurrin~ displeasure below, white the murder of helpless families may be laid to my account here! rhe supplicamingI ears of the women and moviag.pemimions ofehe men, melt me into smuch deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare, if knosv my own mind, I could offer temyself a witting sacuifice to the butchering enemy, pro- vided that would contribute to the peoples ease. p. 143144. We add only, in respect to this cor- respondence, that it shows what a thor- ough school of preparation the French war afforded to Washington, for the Literary Notices. Literar& I Notices. vastly increased trials and responsibil- ity of his station as Commander-in-Chief of the American Armies, in the War of the Revolution. Mr. Sparks has added valuable notes here and there, to these letters, explain- ing what is obscure to those who have not, like himself, searched thoroughly and minutely into the contemporaneous history, by means of all the helps to be obtained at home and abroad. In the appendix he has completely refuted the allegations of the French historians, touching the honor of Washington, in regard to the death of Juruonville, and has presented us with a remarkably clear account of the Battle of the Great Meadows, and of Braddocks defeat, besides other matters, some of which we have already briefly spoken of. If the plan of our work would al- low, we should be pleased to go into a more thorough examination of the vol- ume, in coi{nexion with Mr. Sparkss editorial labors, with which the public have thus far, in our opinion,.every rea- son to be satisfied. A similar commen- dation is due to all concerned, on ac- count of the typographical beauty and accuracy of the work. Lovells Folly. A Novel, by Caro- line Lee Hentz, author of De Lara, Lamo- rab, & c. The choice of a name, has always been regarded as a thing of good or bad omen, for men, places, or books. Call a man fool, and he will be very likely to become one. Give a book the ap- pellative of Folly, and, ten chances to one, it will be foolish enough. The book, whose name we have written above, is an attempt at the domestic novel. Its author is a New-England lady; its scene is laid in New-England, and its leading characters purport to be- long to New-England. The story is not the most important part of a book, which pretends to delineate character and manners.; yet, if the story is a good one, and the plot probable, character and manners appear to much greater advantage. In this novel, the main in- cidents are altogether improbable. The mother of the heroine, is described as having formed an early marriage with a young Englishman, while absent from her family. On her return to the house of her father, she is forced to marry an- other man. Immediately after the cere- mony, she reveals her condition to her intrusire husband, who gives up, of course, all claim to the ladys hand, and leaves her. In process of time, a daughter is born, who is immortalized by becoming the heroine of Lovells Folly. Ignorant of her true parentage, on the fathers side, she grows to wo- manhood, as Miss Lorelly Sutherland, a young lady of great charms of person and mind. Her attractions, however, as is not uncommon with heroines, de- pend not so munch upon the regularity of her features, as upon a certain cap- tivating expression, that occasionally lights up her countenance, when ani- mated by social enjoyment. At a very suitable time, that is, when MissSnther- land has arrived at the proper age to be fallen in love with, her mother finds a journey northward desirable and ex- pedient for the restoration of her health. The old lady, the young lady, and the black lady, under the protection of Novemher, the black coachman, arrive at Cloverdale, a beautiful village not far from Boston. What then? The travelers, full of prejudice against all Yankees, (of whom they know as much as most southerners, from their ex- tensive acquaintance with itinerating sharpers,) breakdown,and are compell- ed to stop. Young Mr. Rovington, the son of old Mr. Rovington, (now dead and gone,) is the predestinated lover of the f ir Lorelly. This young gentle- man has the common and staple quali- ties ofa hero. lie is handsome, of ele- gant manners, accomplished mind, and gentle temper. Moreover, he has hand- some hair. It so happens, that a young lady of the village, the daughter of a retired Boston merchant, has fallen desperately in love with Mr. Roving- ton ; but he is hardened against her charms, particularly after the appear- ance of Miss Sutherland. Rovingtons father, fortunately for the pretender to our heros heart, had contracted a debt of twenty thousand duillars to a friend, which debt he had enjoined his son to discharge, by way of removing all re- proach from his own name. Now this was wondrously magnanimous in the old gentleman. The friend dies, and the claim falls into the hands of his mean- spirited son, who determines to enforce it to the utmost limits of the law. The consequence is, that Mr. Rovingions family find themselves on the point of beint~ driven from their beautiful home, and ~reduced to comparative poverty. It so happens that a toad-eating com- panion of the retired Boston heiress, overhears a conversation, which l)uts her in possession of these important facts, and she hastens to communicate them to her patroness. She avails h r- self of this opportunity, to make an at- tack on Rovingtons heart, by means 84

Literar& I Notices. vastly increased trials and responsibil- ity of his station as Commander-in-Chief of the American Armies, in the War of the Revolution. Mr. Sparks has added valuable notes here and there, to these letters, explain- ing what is obscure to those who have not, like himself, searched thoroughly and minutely into the contemporaneous history, by means of all the helps to be obtained at home and abroad. In the appendix he has completely refuted the allegations of the French historians, touching the honor of Washington, in regard to the death of Juruonville, and has presented us with a remarkably clear account of the Battle of the Great Meadows, and of Braddocks defeat, besides other matters, some of which we have already briefly spoken of. If the plan of our work would al- low, we should be pleased to go into a more thorough examination of the vol- ume, in coi{nexion with Mr. Sparkss editorial labors, with which the public have thus far, in our opinion,.every rea- son to be satisfied. A similar commen- dation is due to all concerned, on ac- count of the typographical beauty and accuracy of the work. Lovells Folly. A Novel, by Caro- line Lee Hentz, author of De Lara, Lamo- rab, & c. The choice of a name, has always been regarded as a thing of good or bad omen, for men, places, or books. Call a man fool, and he will be very likely to become one. Give a book the ap- pellative of Folly, and, ten chances to one, it will be foolish enough. The book, whose name we have written above, is an attempt at the domestic novel. Its author is a New-England lady; its scene is laid in New-England, and its leading characters purport to be- long to New-England. The story is not the most important part of a book, which pretends to delineate character and manners.; yet, if the story is a good one, and the plot probable, character and manners appear to much greater advantage. In this novel, the main in- cidents are altogether improbable. The mother of the heroine, is described as having formed an early marriage with a young Englishman, while absent from her family. On her return to the house of her father, she is forced to marry an- other man. Immediately after the cere- mony, she reveals her condition to her intrusire husband, who gives up, of course, all claim to the ladys hand, and leaves her. In process of time, a daughter is born, who is immortalized by becoming the heroine of Lovells Folly. Ignorant of her true parentage, on the fathers side, she grows to wo- manhood, as Miss Lorelly Sutherland, a young lady of great charms of person and mind. Her attractions, however, as is not uncommon with heroines, de- pend not so munch upon the regularity of her features, as upon a certain cap- tivating expression, that occasionally lights up her countenance, when ani- mated by social enjoyment. At a very suitable time, that is, when MissSnther- land has arrived at the proper age to be fallen in love with, her mother finds a journey northward desirable and ex- pedient for the restoration of her health. The old lady, the young lady, and the black lady, under the protection of Novemher, the black coachman, arrive at Cloverdale, a beautiful village not far from Boston. What then? The travelers, full of prejudice against all Yankees, (of whom they know as much as most southerners, from their ex- tensive acquaintance with itinerating sharpers,) breakdown,and are compell- ed to stop. Young Mr. Rovington, the son of old Mr. Rovington, (now dead and gone,) is the predestinated lover of the f ir Lorelly. This young gentle- man has the common and staple quali- ties ofa hero. lie is handsome, of ele- gant manners, accomplished mind, and gentle temper. Moreover, he has hand- some hair. It so happens, that a young lady of the village, the daughter of a retired Boston merchant, has fallen desperately in love with Mr. Roving- ton ; but he is hardened against her charms, particularly after the appear- ance of Miss Sutherland. Rovingtons father, fortunately for the pretender to our heros heart, had contracted a debt of twenty thousand duillars to a friend, which debt he had enjoined his son to discharge, by way of removing all re- proach from his own name. Now this was wondrously magnanimous in the old gentleman. The friend dies, and the claim falls into the hands of his mean- spirited son, who determines to enforce it to the utmost limits of the law. The consequence is, that Mr. Rovingions family find themselves on the point of beint~ driven from their beautiful home, and ~reduced to comparative poverty. It so happens that a toad-eating com- panion of the retired Boston heiress, overhears a conversation, which l)uts her in possession of these important facts, and she hastens to communicate them to her patroness. She avails h r- self of this opportunity, to make an at- tack on Rovingtons heart, by means 84 Liteta~y, Notices. of her purse. She requests an inter- view, tells the astonished hero how much she knows ahout his condition, offers her purse, her person, her heart, and so forth, in exchange for his heart alone. Mr. Rovington was in an a vk- ward dilemmahe had rio heart to give, having already lost it. On the other hand, the unhappiness of his mother and sisters came over his mind with redouhled power, and here was an op- portunity to save them. Finally., he stated the truth, and told the lady if she would take him under such cir- cumstances, she might. She accepted the surrender, paid the cash down, and fvlr. Rovington paid the deht of filial piety. The engagement soon went abroad. Unluckily, the toad-eater, (we use the word in the hook, sanctioned by the usage of many recent no el- writers, though our taste arid our stom- ach equaly revoltat it,) has overheard the conversation in which the enga~e- ment, or rather bargain, was made. Miss Sutherland is astounded at the news, and finds out for the first time, that she is in love with Rovington her- elf. This is the Cordian hoot of the novel. How is it to he cut? Mrs. Sutherland and her daughter set off to visit Nahant. A singular and rather mysterious stranger happens to he there at the same time. An interview takes place, in which the ~y ntlerrian recog- nizes Mrs. Sutherland, as his long lost wife, and is informed that Miss Suther- land is his daughter. Mutual explana- tions take place, to the satisfaction of all parties. Meantime, the fate of the betrothed, in Cloverdal., is preparing. She must he disposed of, to make way for the union of Rovington and Lorel l~. When a persons life is forfeited, the laws of civilized countries, in this age, command that it shall he taken in the most humane manner possible. Burning has been long obsolete, and never was very common, except for witchcraft and heresy. But the author of this novel, exercising the dangerous power over the lives and fortunes of her suhjects, which the customs of the literary republic confer, decreed that the unfortunate lady should he burnt. In obedience to this sentence, an insane person, who plays a conspicuous part in the tale, sets fire to her dwelling; Rovington rushes to the rescue to show his hravery ; he carries off the wrong person, to save him from his di- lemma; and the unfortunate Bostonian perishes amidst the flames. The diffi- culty heing thus happily set aside, proper explamiations are made, between Rovington and the father of Lorelly, and, in due time, the happy pair are united in the hands of wedlock-the twenty thousand being repaid to Mr. Marriwood as a coniperisation, we sup- pose, for burning his (laughter. Such is a slight sketch of Lovells Folly. The style, in which it is writ- ten, has the usual characteristics of a female style, carried to a ludicrous ex- treme. There is a sort of harmony in the minds of women, accord ing.to which their thoughts arrange themselves, aiid their words flow onward, on all subjects alike. When this harmonic tendency is under the influence of good taste it produces beautiful effects. To modern literature, it has given the inconipara- ble poems of Mrs. Heinans; the novels of Miss Sed~wick, and the manifold writings of Mrs. Child. But we have no space for a dissertation, though the subject is a curious one, and we mean to resunme it. In this novel, every sentence ends off in a particular cadence. If you read it aloud, you fall, of necessity, into the sing-song tone. Whatever the subject, whether descriptive, passive, narr. tive, or sentiment, the same eternal and mu- notorious cadence is perpetually recur- ring. There is a great deal too much about moonlight, and shady groves, and othe, old-fashioned finery of the roman- tic novels in the Della Cruscan style. As to the delineation of character, the au- thor has failed entirely. They are all feebly imagined, and drawn in the most common-place fashion. As to the nar- rative, it is put together after the model of all third-rate novels, and the inci- dents, the surprises, and the final un- tying of the knot, are as devoid of ceative ingenuity as they well can be. he conversations have no nature, and how no dramatic talent. The speeches of Mr. Russel Rovington are perfectly absurd. If a man should utter such stuff in actual life, he would be thought a fit subject for a commission de lunuti- co inquicendo. From beginning to end, the work goes on in a stream of unin- terrupted harmony. It has one gener- al fault,it is silly. A Sermon preached in the Church in Bratt]e-Sqmiare, Decenber 1, 1833, the Lords Day after the decease of Miss Eliza- beth Bond. By John G. Patfrey. This Sermon commences with a beau- tiful illustration of the text, I hare finished the work which thou gaaest me to do and the sense in which its apl)hi- cation may appropriately be made to those who die youngthe sense in 85

Liteta~y, Notices. of her purse. She requests an inter- view, tells the astonished hero how much she knows ahout his condition, offers her purse, her person, her heart, and so forth, in exchange for his heart alone. Mr. Rovington was in an a vk- ward dilemmahe had rio heart to give, having already lost it. On the other hand, the unhappiness of his mother and sisters came over his mind with redouhled power, and here was an op- portunity to save them. Finally., he stated the truth, and told the lady if she would take him under such cir- cumstances, she might. She accepted the surrender, paid the cash down, and fvlr. Rovington paid the deht of filial piety. The engagement soon went abroad. Unluckily, the toad-eater, (we use the word in the hook, sanctioned by the usage of many recent no el- writers, though our taste arid our stom- ach equaly revoltat it,) has overheard the conversation in which the enga~e- ment, or rather bargain, was made. Miss Sutherland is astounded at the news, and finds out for the first time, that she is in love with Rovington her- elf. This is the Cordian hoot of the novel. How is it to he cut? Mrs. Sutherland and her daughter set off to visit Nahant. A singular and rather mysterious stranger happens to he there at the same time. An interview takes place, in which the ~y ntlerrian recog- nizes Mrs. Sutherland, as his long lost wife, and is informed that Miss Suther- land is his daughter. Mutual explana- tions take place, to the satisfaction of all parties. Meantime, the fate of the betrothed, in Cloverdal., is preparing. She must he disposed of, to make way for the union of Rovington and Lorel l~. When a persons life is forfeited, the laws of civilized countries, in this age, command that it shall he taken in the most humane manner possible. Burning has been long obsolete, and never was very common, except for witchcraft and heresy. But the author of this novel, exercising the dangerous power over the lives and fortunes of her suhjects, which the customs of the literary republic confer, decreed that the unfortunate lady should he burnt. In obedience to this sentence, an insane person, who plays a conspicuous part in the tale, sets fire to her dwelling; Rovington rushes to the rescue to show his hravery ; he carries off the wrong person, to save him from his di- lemma; and the unfortunate Bostonian perishes amidst the flames. The diffi- culty heing thus happily set aside, proper explamiations are made, between Rovington and the father of Lorelly, and, in due time, the happy pair are united in the hands of wedlock-the twenty thousand being repaid to Mr. Marriwood as a coniperisation, we sup- pose, for burning his (laughter. Such is a slight sketch of Lovells Folly. The style, in which it is writ- ten, has the usual characteristics of a female style, carried to a ludicrous ex- treme. There is a sort of harmony in the minds of women, accord ing.to which their thoughts arrange themselves, aiid their words flow onward, on all subjects alike. When this harmonic tendency is under the influence of good taste it produces beautiful effects. To modern literature, it has given the inconipara- ble poems of Mrs. Heinans; the novels of Miss Sed~wick, and the manifold writings of Mrs. Child. But we have no space for a dissertation, though the subject is a curious one, and we mean to resunme it. In this novel, every sentence ends off in a particular cadence. If you read it aloud, you fall, of necessity, into the sing-song tone. Whatever the subject, whether descriptive, passive, narr. tive, or sentiment, the same eternal and mu- notorious cadence is perpetually recur- ring. There is a great deal too much about moonlight, and shady groves, and othe, old-fashioned finery of the roman- tic novels in the Della Cruscan style. As to the delineation of character, the au- thor has failed entirely. They are all feebly imagined, and drawn in the most common-place fashion. As to the nar- rative, it is put together after the model of all third-rate novels, and the inci- dents, the surprises, and the final un- tying of the knot, are as devoid of ceative ingenuity as they well can be. he conversations have no nature, and how no dramatic talent. The speeches of Mr. Russel Rovington are perfectly absurd. If a man should utter such stuff in actual life, he would be thought a fit subject for a commission de lunuti- co inquicendo. From beginning to end, the work goes on in a stream of unin- terrupted harmony. It has one gener- al fault,it is silly. A Sermon preached in the Church in Bratt]e-Sqmiare, Decenber 1, 1833, the Lords Day after the decease of Miss Eliza- beth Bond. By John G. Patfrey. This Sermon commences with a beau- tiful illustration of the text, I hare finished the work which thou gaaest me to do and the sense in which its apl)hi- cation may appropriately be made to those who die youngthe sense in 85 Literary Notices. which they may be held to have finished what they have strenuously desired to accomplish, though not all the results, at which they had heen aiming, should prove to he achieved As to defective accomplishment of our pre- scribed task in life, it has not that connexion which it may be hastily irrra5ined to have, with a longer or shorter duration of life. By otre, whose years God has lengthened out, the work of a long life is the work appoirrted by him tu be done. That of a short life is the work, which Ire has assigned to one recalled in child- hood or in yorrth. if teath separates a young friend froni nrc, I may rrrourrr nv loss greatly on other accounts, but not bet ruse trirre has been denied him to corarplete Iris task For hrs time was the very measrrre of hr~ task I can- not derulore him as havin be~ni privileged rn Ibis respect less titan others I cannot admit tire idea of airy life, iii an exact way of speak- ing, rein - prematurely closed Opportunity is the eternal limit of resprinsiblerress. * * The fair form, which I lay iii tire earth in the glory of its spring promise, is as ripe for heavenly honorsif tire brief allotted season have been used as well,as that, which has corire down to its resting-place, bending under the venera ble decrepitude of a hundred winters. How many can attest to the fidelity of the representation in the following extract A good daughter there are other ministries of love more conspienronts than hers, bitt none in winch a gentler, lovelier spirit dwells, arid none to which the hear 5 warm reqiritals more joyfully respond. There is no such thing as a courparative estimate of a parents affections for one or another child. There is little which he needs to covet, to whom the treasure of a good child has been given. Bitt a sorts octri- pations and pleasures carry him more abroad, and ire lives mote among temptations, winch hardly permit the affection, that is following him, perhaps, over half the globe, to be wholly unmingled with anxiety, till the lime when he comes to relinquish the shelter of his fathers roof for one of his own: while a good daugh- ter is the steady li5ht of her parents house. Ber idea is indissolubly connected with that of his happy fireside. She is his morning sun- light, and his evening star. The grace, and vivacity, and tenderness of her sex have their place in the mighty sway which she holds ever his spirit. The Ilessons of recorded wisdom~ which he reads with tier eyes, come to his mind uvith a new charm as they elend with the beloved melody of her voire. tie scarcely knows weariness, which tier song does not make him forget, or gloom, which is proof against the young brightness of tier smile. Sire is the linde and ornament of his hospitality, and the gentle nurse of his sickness, and the constant agent in those nameless, numberless acts of kindness, which one chiefly cares to have rendered because they are unpretending but all-expressive proofs of love. And then what a cheerful sharer is she, and what art able lightener of a mothers cares! what an ever present delight and triumph to a mothers af- fection ! Oh how little do those daughters know of the power which God has committed to them, and the happiness God woulni have theor enjoy, who do riot, every time that a pa- rents eye rests on them, bring rapture to a parents heart. A true love will almost cer- tainly always greet their approaching steps. That they will hardly alienate. But their am- bition should be, not to have it a love merely, which feelings implanted by nature excite, but one made intense, and overliowing, by appro.. bation of worthy conduct; and she is strangely tilirini to her own hapininess, as well as uridriti- ftrl to them to whorri sire owes the most, in whom the perpetual appeals of parental disin- terestedriess do not call forth the liromopt and full echo of filial devotion. The affecting incident, which was the inducement for writing and pub- lishing tins Sermon, needs no further explanation than what may he seen in tlac title. it was an incident of com- mon occurrencea calannihy, which al- most every fantnily is called, in tire or- dimnary course of providence, to suffer an affliction, ~vhicla the sad experience of many proves is trot to he alleviated by the too ordinary modes of administering consolation. A parent is not consoled for the loss of a virtuous child by being reminded that he has many others left; and tlaey, who ad onininister their sy mpa- thies in this faslnion, know but little of the agonies of a heart suffering such a deprivation. Mr.. Palfrey seemrrs to be aware of this fact, and very properly refrains frusm such tiresumnmus common- places, which, huwever well they naay be intended, are little better than jests and mockeries. Sorrow for the dead finds relief only in the contemplation of their good and amiable qutalities, and in the strong persuasion that the inter- course, which is interrupted by death~ will be renewed and perpetuated in an- other and abetter world. The incomn- parable source of consolation to the mourner is to be found in the apocalyptic declaration Blessed rare the dead which die in tite Lordand next to this in value are those reflexions, whicla place our departed friends before us in all their lovely and attractive characteris- tics, and show, as in a mirror, their beautiful formsu joined to the innumer- able company of the spiriis of the just made perfect, and enjoying the happi- ness, whose nature and extent we find it difficult to imagine, but which we hope to participate with them. The annexed little poem partially illustrates our meaning. Can any of our readers tell us who was its autlnor THE EARLY DEAD. Weep not for the youthful dead, Resting in tireir peaceful bed! They are happier than we, Bowsoever blest we be. They have left a doubtful scene, While their hearts were young and green, Ere the stain of guilt was deep; Wherefore, wherefore do ye uveep? T is, ye say, a heavy paint, Preying on tine heart in vain, Titus to see the green bud froze, Whemn just opening to a rose. 86 Literary Notices. Vet shall Consolation come, Stooping from her starry home, Bringingdew upon her wings, From the deep, eternal springs. Tie had just begun to climb Up the weary mount of Time Weep not his untimely end; If he sunk, t was to ascend. She was young, and soft, and fair, So her sister seraphs are Wherefore, then, should sorrow how? She is with the seraphs now. Happy they who die in youth, Em Ihe fountain springs of truth Have heen sullied by the rains, Leaving dark aud deadly stains. Their renown is with the brave,. All their faults are in the 0rave, And the flowers, that ronud them bloom, Chase the darkness,hide the gloom. A Volume from the Life of Her- bert Barclay. This little volume purpnrts to be the adventures of a young gentleman on his first introduction into fashionahle so- ciety. It is wrrtten inn a pleasant style, without much pretension to ole ance or brilliancy. The character of the young man is sketched with sotne power; and the uncle, under whose guardianshiphe is living, is a good specimen of a sensi- ble old gentleman, who has I)assed re- spectably through youth and middle age. The scenes, in social life, describ- ed in this volo toe, are filled up with the usual drannatis persoom, fashionable and heathen belles, fortune-hunting men and a few of high and honorable feelings. The conversations show a lively talent at dramatic representation. and many of the thoughts are expressed in a pointed and pithy style. I he narrative is pleas- antly varied hy the arrival of a traveled friend at the uncles hospitable mansion, and the reading rif his manuscript jour- nal, parts of which are given. There as also a very spirited translation from the prologue of Goethes Faust, and another from tIne Garden Scene, which we extract below. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. HYMN OF ANGELO. Raphael. The sun still sings, II rover singing In brother spheres iris rival song, And nosy his path prescrihed is bringing To end, as thunder rolls along. His aspect Angels aye rejoices, Though untie his law can see or say. The unrevealed works nod voices Are grand as on creations day. Gabriel. And swift and light the earth is streamiug With gorgeous change so black and hright In hues of Pararlise no~v beaming And now wrapt deep in gloom of night. The sea, gainst rushing rivers striving, On rocklands bursts its foam and wrath; And rock and sea are onward driving Eternally inn Heavens path. .llliichael. And storms in contest wild are pouring From land to sea, from sea to land And form while raging fierce and roarirrg Of deepest action one close hand: Ihere lightnings vivid flash is glaring Before the coming thunder hoarse: Bttt these, 0! Lord, thy orders bearing, Revere the universes course. .,qtt three. The sight to Angels vigor gives, Thotngh none thy law cart see or say; And thy bright world forever ltves As hright as on creations day. FROM THE GARDEN SCENE. Faust. Who dare him name? And who, proclairo, I believe in hint Wiro that may, Feeling say, I believe in him not. The all-infolder, The all-upholder, Holds sod upholds he nol Thee, rue, himself? Arcires trot heaven there above? Lies not tire earth firrir here below? And urorsut trot up eternal stars Friendly twinkling over us? Behold t thee not, And feelst thou not existence Pomrring through thy heart, And weaving in eternal mystery Invisibly visible arotrrid thee? Fill full thy sorrt with consciousness of being, Arid whert thorn art happy in the fuinress, Call it then what thou wilt Call it bliss soul ! love ! God! I have no name for it! Feeling is all ira all Narrre is sorrnd arid srrmoke Curling round heavens fire. .MarFaret. That is all right well and good;, About tire ~ame as wirat the parson says, Orrly in somewhat differeirt words. Faust. All places say it, All boners beneath the light of heaven, Earls itt its own language; Why trot I in mitre ? There is, of course, a slight seasnaing of love in tins tale. The youmrg man is inspired hy the charms of a dashine- beauty, but is defeated by the snrpermnr preterrsions of a rascal lawyer, who has offered himself and been accepted, just before Mr. Barclay makes his first de- cisive demonstratiorn of tender-hearted- ness towards her ladyslnip. The volume ends very oddly, imrnaediately after this repulseso that we are uninformed whether our hero slant himself, or his rival. We wait for further light, hop- ing, nrneantime, that he did neither. But, as Mr. Ritchie says, noes verrons. 87

Literary Notices. Vet shall Consolation come, Stooping from her starry home, Bringingdew upon her wings, From the deep, eternal springs. Tie had just begun to climb Up the weary mount of Time Weep not his untimely end; If he sunk, t was to ascend. She was young, and soft, and fair, So her sister seraphs are Wherefore, then, should sorrow how? She is with the seraphs now. Happy they who die in youth, Em Ihe fountain springs of truth Have heen sullied by the rains, Leaving dark aud deadly stains. Their renown is with the brave,. All their faults are in the 0rave, And the flowers, that ronud them bloom, Chase the darkness,hide the gloom. A Volume from the Life of Her- bert Barclay. This little volume purpnrts to be the adventures of a young gentleman on his first introduction into fashionahle so- ciety. It is wrrtten inn a pleasant style, without much pretension to ole ance or brilliancy. The character of the young man is sketched with sotne power; and the uncle, under whose guardianshiphe is living, is a good specimen of a sensi- ble old gentleman, who has I)assed re- spectably through youth and middle age. The scenes, in social life, describ- ed in this volo toe, are filled up with the usual drannatis persoom, fashionable and heathen belles, fortune-hunting men and a few of high and honorable feelings. The conversations show a lively talent at dramatic representation. and many of the thoughts are expressed in a pointed and pithy style. I he narrative is pleas- antly varied hy the arrival of a traveled friend at the uncles hospitable mansion, and the reading rif his manuscript jour- nal, parts of which are given. There as also a very spirited translation from the prologue of Goethes Faust, and another from tIne Garden Scene, which we extract below. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. HYMN OF ANGELO. Raphael. The sun still sings, II rover singing In brother spheres iris rival song, And nosy his path prescrihed is bringing To end, as thunder rolls along. His aspect Angels aye rejoices, Though untie his law can see or say. The unrevealed works nod voices Are grand as on creations day. Gabriel. And swift and light the earth is streamiug With gorgeous change so black and hright In hues of Pararlise no~v beaming And now wrapt deep in gloom of night. The sea, gainst rushing rivers striving, On rocklands bursts its foam and wrath; And rock and sea are onward driving Eternally inn Heavens path. .llliichael. And storms in contest wild are pouring From land to sea, from sea to land And form while raging fierce and roarirrg Of deepest action one close hand: Ihere lightnings vivid flash is glaring Before the coming thunder hoarse: Bttt these, 0! Lord, thy orders bearing, Revere the universes course. .,qtt three. The sight to Angels vigor gives, Thotngh none thy law cart see or say; And thy bright world forever ltves As hright as on creations day. FROM THE GARDEN SCENE. Faust. Who dare him name? And who, proclairo, I believe in hint Wiro that may, Feeling say, I believe in him not. The all-infolder, The all-upholder, Holds sod upholds he nol Thee, rue, himself? Arcires trot heaven there above? Lies not tire earth firrir here below? And urorsut trot up eternal stars Friendly twinkling over us? Behold t thee not, And feelst thou not existence Pomrring through thy heart, And weaving in eternal mystery Invisibly visible arotrrid thee? Fill full thy sorrt with consciousness of being, Arid whert thorn art happy in the fuinress, Call it then what thou wilt Call it bliss soul ! love ! God! I have no name for it! Feeling is all ira all Narrre is sorrnd arid srrmoke Curling round heavens fire. .MarFaret. That is all right well and good;, About tire ~ame as wirat the parson says, Orrly in somewhat differeirt words. Faust. All places say it, All boners beneath the light of heaven, Earls itt its own language; Why trot I in mitre ? There is, of course, a slight seasnaing of love in tins tale. The youmrg man is inspired hy the charms of a dashine- beauty, but is defeated by the snrpermnr preterrsions of a rascal lawyer, who has offered himself and been accepted, just before Mr. Barclay makes his first de- cisive demonstratiorn of tender-hearted- ness towards her ladyslnip. The volume ends very oddly, imrnaediately after this repulseso that we are uninformed whether our hero slant himself, or his rival. We wait for further light, hop- ing, nrneantime, that he did neither. But, as Mr. Ritchie says, noes verrons. 87 58 Natural Equality A Sermon be- fore the Vermont Colonization Society, at Montpelier, October 17, 1833. By the Rev. Joseph Tracy. We are not a colonizationist, and still farther are we from being a disciple of that class of philanthropists who advo- cate immediate and unconditional aho- lition. It has always appeared to us, that the free states (or, if the phrase he more palatable, the non-slaveholding states) are not the theatre, on which either the Colonization or the Anti- Slavery Societies should carry on their operations. Without any predisposi- tion, therefore, to listen to arguments, pour et contse, in reference to abolition or colonization, we freely declare that we have found, in Mr. Tracys Sermon, a better plea for the latter, and a more powerful argument against the former, than ~ve had previously met. The true doctrine of Natural Equality is very forcibly illustrated, by quotations from the advocates of the proposition that eli men are born free and equal in an unlim- ited sense, and by showing from these same quotations, that the doctrine pur- sued without proper and rational quali- fication is sufficient to overturn all gov- ernment whatsoeverwhether of na- tions, states, or faruilies. We have no space for extr~ cts, and commuend the pamphlet to the notice of all, who think the subject, on which it treats, worthy of consideration. The Headsman; or, the Abbaye des Viguerons. A Tale. By the Author of the Bravo, & c. & c. In two volumes. Our distinguished countryman, Mr. Cooper, has just been welcomed, after a long absence, to his native shores. His claims to respect and admiration have been universally acknowledged, at home and abroad. As a writer of prose-fiction he stands in the very first rank; and for several important intel- lectual traits, absolutely unsurpassed. Having at command an English style of great force, freshness, and brilliancy, his works ~O55O55 that attractive char- acter, which titne will rather heighten than diminish; for there is in them a living principle, that will make its strength felt by every readers mind. In brilliancy and graphic power of do- scription,in that kind of potver which brings the scene in its general features, and in its minnIe details, before the readers eye. Mr, Coopers extraordina- ry gifts are well known. his ocean scenes are known as widely as the ocean itself; and his landscapes, and land storms, are almost equally power- ful. Thus, in spite of many glaring defects of taste, and many gross errors in the conception and delineation of character, Mr. Coopers works will al -ays stand high in our literary history. His female characters are often awk- ward and absurd, and the scenes in which they figure exquisitely ridiculous. He seems to consider it a point of con- science to infuse a certain proportion of love, and its soft distresses, into eaca several novel, as the doctors in their l)rescriptions order molasses to taste. He also holds it to be a point of patri- otic duty, to let all the world know his sturdy republicanism and his hatred to monarchy and its attendant trappings. Much as Mr. Coopers independence in this respect is to be praised, it is in bad taste to warp a produclion of creative art so as to suit a particular theory of government. Nay,so far has Mr. Coop- er ridden the hobby of Americanism, that, in one cif his novels, the Heiden- manor, he undertook the defence of his country against the somewhat hasty charge of b~ng over.given to strong drinks, by sh~ n~ that, in the time of the Reformation, the monks and knights were as fond of the bottle as the hardest tippler in our tippling land. The argument may be good in logic, but the subject and object of it hardly belong to elegant literature. Time scene of this novel is laid in Switzerland, and the development of the plot takes place about the time of a V~mvaisan festival, called the Abbaye des Vicuerons The tale opens with a bustling and amusing scene at the quay of Geneva, where passengers were crowding on board of a bark, which was about to cross Lake Leman, that they might be in timne for the festivities. The appearance of the lake, and the terrors of the storm that had well nigh wrecked the bark, are depicted in the mnoststrik- mo manner. We follow every ma- ncnnvre of the master spirit, who has assumed a temporary command, with perfect confidence in his skill, but with breathless interest for the result. And when at last time storm has spent its fu- ry, and time gallant ship rides in safety the lately agitated waters, we feel a sensation of relief as if we had our- selves been exposed to the danger of the deep. The festival, which takes place in due time, is described with too great prolixity, and, before its conclu- sion, becomes tiresome. We suppose it is given with a proper regard for histor- ical accuracy, and it mnust, therefore, he considered a curious and valuable pic Literary Notices.

58 Natural Equality A Sermon be- fore the Vermont Colonization Society, at Montpelier, October 17, 1833. By the Rev. Joseph Tracy. We are not a colonizationist, and still farther are we from being a disciple of that class of philanthropists who advo- cate immediate and unconditional aho- lition. It has always appeared to us, that the free states (or, if the phrase he more palatable, the non-slaveholding states) are not the theatre, on which either the Colonization or the Anti- Slavery Societies should carry on their operations. Without any predisposi- tion, therefore, to listen to arguments, pour et contse, in reference to abolition or colonization, we freely declare that we have found, in Mr. Tracys Sermon, a better plea for the latter, and a more powerful argument against the former, than ~ve had previously met. The true doctrine of Natural Equality is very forcibly illustrated, by quotations from the advocates of the proposition that eli men are born free and equal in an unlim- ited sense, and by showing from these same quotations, that the doctrine pur- sued without proper and rational quali- fication is sufficient to overturn all gov- ernment whatsoeverwhether of na- tions, states, or faruilies. We have no space for extr~ cts, and commuend the pamphlet to the notice of all, who think the subject, on which it treats, worthy of consideration. The Headsman; or, the Abbaye des Viguerons. A Tale. By the Author of the Bravo, & c. & c. In two volumes. Our distinguished countryman, Mr. Cooper, has just been welcomed, after a long absence, to his native shores. His claims to respect and admiration have been universally acknowledged, at home and abroad. As a writer of prose-fiction he stands in the very first rank; and for several important intel- lectual traits, absolutely unsurpassed. Having at command an English style of great force, freshness, and brilliancy, his works ~O55O55 that attractive char- acter, which titne will rather heighten than diminish; for there is in them a living principle, that will make its strength felt by every readers mind. In brilliancy and graphic power of do- scription,in that kind of potver which brings the scene in its general features, and in its minnIe details, before the readers eye. Mr, Coopers extraordina- ry gifts are well known. his ocean scenes are known as widely as the ocean itself; and his landscapes, and land storms, are almost equally power- ful. Thus, in spite of many glaring defects of taste, and many gross errors in the conception and delineation of character, Mr. Coopers works will al -ays stand high in our literary history. His female characters are often awk- ward and absurd, and the scenes in which they figure exquisitely ridiculous. He seems to consider it a point of con- science to infuse a certain proportion of love, and its soft distresses, into eaca several novel, as the doctors in their l)rescriptions order molasses to taste. He also holds it to be a point of patri- otic duty, to let all the world know his sturdy republicanism and his hatred to monarchy and its attendant trappings. Much as Mr. Coopers independence in this respect is to be praised, it is in bad taste to warp a produclion of creative art so as to suit a particular theory of government. Nay,so far has Mr. Coop- er ridden the hobby of Americanism, that, in one cif his novels, the Heiden- manor, he undertook the defence of his country against the somewhat hasty charge of b~ng over.given to strong drinks, by sh~ n~ that, in the time of the Reformation, the monks and knights were as fond of the bottle as the hardest tippler in our tippling land. The argument may be good in logic, but the subject and object of it hardly belong to elegant literature. Time scene of this novel is laid in Switzerland, and the development of the plot takes place about the time of a V~mvaisan festival, called the Abbaye des Vicuerons The tale opens with a bustling and amusing scene at the quay of Geneva, where passengers were crowding on board of a bark, which was about to cross Lake Leman, that they might be in timne for the festivities. The appearance of the lake, and the terrors of the storm that had well nigh wrecked the bark, are depicted in the mnoststrik- mo manner. We follow every ma- ncnnvre of the master spirit, who has assumed a temporary command, with perfect confidence in his skill, but with breathless interest for the result. And when at last time storm has spent its fu- ry, and time gallant ship rides in safety the lately agitated waters, we feel a sensation of relief as if we had our- selves been exposed to the danger of the deep. The festival, which takes place in due time, is described with too great prolixity, and, before its conclu- sion, becomes tiresome. We suppose it is given with a proper regard for histor- ical accuracy, and it mnust, therefore, he considered a curious and valuable pic Literary Notices.

58 Natural Equality A Sermon be- fore the Vermont Colonization Society, at Montpelier, October 17, 1833. By the Rev. Joseph Tracy. We are not a colonizationist, and still farther are we from being a disciple of that class of philanthropists who advo- cate immediate and unconditional aho- lition. It has always appeared to us, that the free states (or, if the phrase he more palatable, the non-slaveholding states) are not the theatre, on which either the Colonization or the Anti- Slavery Societies should carry on their operations. Without any predisposi- tion, therefore, to listen to arguments, pour et contse, in reference to abolition or colonization, we freely declare that we have found, in Mr. Tracys Sermon, a better plea for the latter, and a more powerful argument against the former, than ~ve had previously met. The true doctrine of Natural Equality is very forcibly illustrated, by quotations from the advocates of the proposition that eli men are born free and equal in an unlim- ited sense, and by showing from these same quotations, that the doctrine pur- sued without proper and rational quali- fication is sufficient to overturn all gov- ernment whatsoeverwhether of na- tions, states, or faruilies. We have no space for extr~ cts, and commuend the pamphlet to the notice of all, who think the subject, on which it treats, worthy of consideration. The Headsman; or, the Abbaye des Viguerons. A Tale. By the Author of the Bravo, & c. & c. In two volumes. Our distinguished countryman, Mr. Cooper, has just been welcomed, after a long absence, to his native shores. His claims to respect and admiration have been universally acknowledged, at home and abroad. As a writer of prose-fiction he stands in the very first rank; and for several important intel- lectual traits, absolutely unsurpassed. Having at command an English style of great force, freshness, and brilliancy, his works ~O55O55 that attractive char- acter, which titne will rather heighten than diminish; for there is in them a living principle, that will make its strength felt by every readers mind. In brilliancy and graphic power of do- scription,in that kind of potver which brings the scene in its general features, and in its minnIe details, before the readers eye. Mr, Coopers extraordina- ry gifts are well known. his ocean scenes are known as widely as the ocean itself; and his landscapes, and land storms, are almost equally power- ful. Thus, in spite of many glaring defects of taste, and many gross errors in the conception and delineation of character, Mr. Coopers works will al -ays stand high in our literary history. His female characters are often awk- ward and absurd, and the scenes in which they figure exquisitely ridiculous. He seems to consider it a point of con- science to infuse a certain proportion of love, and its soft distresses, into eaca several novel, as the doctors in their l)rescriptions order molasses to taste. He also holds it to be a point of patri- otic duty, to let all the world know his sturdy republicanism and his hatred to monarchy and its attendant trappings. Much as Mr. Coopers independence in this respect is to be praised, it is in bad taste to warp a produclion of creative art so as to suit a particular theory of government. Nay,so far has Mr. Coop- er ridden the hobby of Americanism, that, in one cif his novels, the Heiden- manor, he undertook the defence of his country against the somewhat hasty charge of b~ng over.given to strong drinks, by sh~ n~ that, in the time of the Reformation, the monks and knights were as fond of the bottle as the hardest tippler in our tippling land. The argument may be good in logic, but the subject and object of it hardly belong to elegant literature. Time scene of this novel is laid in Switzerland, and the development of the plot takes place about the time of a V~mvaisan festival, called the Abbaye des Vicuerons The tale opens with a bustling and amusing scene at the quay of Geneva, where passengers were crowding on board of a bark, which was about to cross Lake Leman, that they might be in timne for the festivities. The appearance of the lake, and the terrors of the storm that had well nigh wrecked the bark, are depicted in the mnoststrik- mo manner. We follow every ma- ncnnvre of the master spirit, who has assumed a temporary command, with perfect confidence in his skill, but with breathless interest for the result. And when at last time storm has spent its fu- ry, and time gallant ship rides in safety the lately agitated waters, we feel a sensation of relief as if we had our- selves been exposed to the danger of the deep. The festival, which takes place in due time, is described with too great prolixity, and, before its conclu- sion, becomes tiresome. We suppose it is given with a proper regard for histor- ical accuracy, and it mnust, therefore, he considered a curious and valuable pic Literary Notices. Literary Notices. ture of the customs of a long-departed age. As this novel is probably well known by every one of our readers, we shall not attempt an analysis. A few gen- eral observations are all that we shall offer. In the first place, then, we must remark that the Headsmans character contradicts itself. He is represented as a man of strict regard to truth; and yet, on the death of his own child, he sub- stitutes another in its place, educates him as his own, but concealing frum him even his fictitious birth, in the hope of saving him from the hereditary pro- fession of executioner. In due time when the child has grown to manhood, he discloses to him the dounding fact that he is his sonwhich flict he shows in the sequel to be no fact at all, and the young man proves to be the lost son of an Italian prince. In this intricate plot, there seems to us to be confusion and contradiction. Why should the Headsman wish to make the unfortu- nate young mars miserable, by pretend- ing that he is his father, especially, when, for the avowed purpose of rescu- ma him froi the consequences of such a birth, he has educated him to the honorable profession of arms? The love of the young man for Adel- heid, the daughter of a proud feudal noble is naturally conceived and delin- eated; but some sc nes between them are marked by the same want of tact and judgement in drawing the picture of a delicate woman, which are conspicu- ous in other works of Mr. Cooper. The passage over the Alps is a won- derful piece of description. It is all sublime poetry. The storm, the suffer- ing, the escape, are set forth with the most vivid and masterly colors. This, and the storm on Lake Leman, are the finest parts of the book, and place Mr. Cooper at the head, or very nearly so, of graphic writersartists in the best sense of the term. The avowed moral of this tale is a satire on the conservative or tory prin- ciple, on which the present govern- ments of Europe are sustained. The object is a very proper one, in a proper place, but we do not think the beauty, or interest, or usefulness of a work of fiction increased by weaving into it this inappropriate matter. As to the style of this novel, it is in general pure and unaffected. But there are some sentences, awkward in con- struction, and verbose in phraseology. This defect is one that mii~ht easily have been prevented by a liitle care and a writer, whose works are destined to live and affect the taste, not only of the present, but of coming ages, ought to bestow on them the most careful and correct finishing, of which they are ca- pable. The style is marred also, by the frequent use of several pet words, and cant phrases,tm such as a warm citizen; indeed, this expression occurs at least fifty times. Such a trick is exceeding- ly disagreeable, and ought to be set aside with all convenient speed. As Mr. Cooper has now returned, we hope his pen will again be employed on subjects of native growth. After all, a moans own country is his proper sphere of action her scenery, he can depict with the greatest trnth and love: her character dwells more liviregly in his heart and mind ; arid her praise is the best pledge of his fame. An Address delivered before the Phi B~ta Kappa Society, in Yale College, New-Haven, August 20, 1833. By Edward Everett. Mr. Everetts disceurses have one marked peculiarity. They always ex- cite public expectation to the highest l)itcli, and never disappoint it. This oration is absolutely perfect. The sub- ject is common-place; but like most common-places, capable of assuming new and interesting aspects under the plastic hand of Mr. Edward Everett. The beautiful flow of Mr. Everetts style, his delicate tact in the choice of words and phrases, the harmonious structure of his sentences, give an in- imitable charm to all his writings. This manner of conceiving and representing a subject is at once profound, and in the highest style of classical beauty. The finest literary and historical allu- sions come in to illustrate his ideas in the most natural manner. A wide range of learning, embracing belIes-let- tres, history, politics, and all kinds of science, furnish their tributary streams to swell the tide of his uninatchable elo- quence. Each performance of his is complete in itself, and a model in its kind. The tendency of his works is always good. Their spirit is animating and consoling. We rise from them with new strength to sustain the labors of life; with new ardor added to our love of country; with new sympathies for our fellow-men. The following ex- tract, we think, will be acknowledged as belonging to the noblest style of elo- quence I do not mean that every individual is creat- ed, with a physical and intellectual constitution capable of attaining, with the sane opportuni- ties, the same degree of improvement. I cannot assert that; nor would I wittingly undertake to VOL. vi. 12 89

Literary Notices. ture of the customs of a long-departed age. As this novel is probably well known by every one of our readers, we shall not attempt an analysis. A few gen- eral observations are all that we shall offer. In the first place, then, we must remark that the Headsmans character contradicts itself. He is represented as a man of strict regard to truth; and yet, on the death of his own child, he sub- stitutes another in its place, educates him as his own, but concealing frum him even his fictitious birth, in the hope of saving him from the hereditary pro- fession of executioner. In due time when the child has grown to manhood, he discloses to him the dounding fact that he is his sonwhich flict he shows in the sequel to be no fact at all, and the young man proves to be the lost son of an Italian prince. In this intricate plot, there seems to us to be confusion and contradiction. Why should the Headsman wish to make the unfortu- nate young mars miserable, by pretend- ing that he is his father, especially, when, for the avowed purpose of rescu- ma him froi the consequences of such a birth, he has educated him to the honorable profession of arms? The love of the young man for Adel- heid, the daughter of a proud feudal noble is naturally conceived and delin- eated; but some sc nes between them are marked by the same want of tact and judgement in drawing the picture of a delicate woman, which are conspicu- ous in other works of Mr. Cooper. The passage over the Alps is a won- derful piece of description. It is all sublime poetry. The storm, the suffer- ing, the escape, are set forth with the most vivid and masterly colors. This, and the storm on Lake Leman, are the finest parts of the book, and place Mr. Cooper at the head, or very nearly so, of graphic writersartists in the best sense of the term. The avowed moral of this tale is a satire on the conservative or tory prin- ciple, on which the present govern- ments of Europe are sustained. The object is a very proper one, in a proper place, but we do not think the beauty, or interest, or usefulness of a work of fiction increased by weaving into it this inappropriate matter. As to the style of this novel, it is in general pure and unaffected. But there are some sentences, awkward in con- struction, and verbose in phraseology. This defect is one that mii~ht easily have been prevented by a liitle care and a writer, whose works are destined to live and affect the taste, not only of the present, but of coming ages, ought to bestow on them the most careful and correct finishing, of which they are ca- pable. The style is marred also, by the frequent use of several pet words, and cant phrases,tm such as a warm citizen; indeed, this expression occurs at least fifty times. Such a trick is exceeding- ly disagreeable, and ought to be set aside with all convenient speed. As Mr. Cooper has now returned, we hope his pen will again be employed on subjects of native growth. After all, a moans own country is his proper sphere of action her scenery, he can depict with the greatest trnth and love: her character dwells more liviregly in his heart and mind ; arid her praise is the best pledge of his fame. An Address delivered before the Phi B~ta Kappa Society, in Yale College, New-Haven, August 20, 1833. By Edward Everett. Mr. Everetts disceurses have one marked peculiarity. They always ex- cite public expectation to the highest l)itcli, and never disappoint it. This oration is absolutely perfect. The sub- ject is common-place; but like most common-places, capable of assuming new and interesting aspects under the plastic hand of Mr. Edward Everett. The beautiful flow of Mr. Everetts style, his delicate tact in the choice of words and phrases, the harmonious structure of his sentences, give an in- imitable charm to all his writings. This manner of conceiving and representing a subject is at once profound, and in the highest style of classical beauty. The finest literary and historical allu- sions come in to illustrate his ideas in the most natural manner. A wide range of learning, embracing belIes-let- tres, history, politics, and all kinds of science, furnish their tributary streams to swell the tide of his uninatchable elo- quence. Each performance of his is complete in itself, and a model in its kind. The tendency of his works is always good. Their spirit is animating and consoling. We rise from them with new strength to sustain the labors of life; with new ardor added to our love of country; with new sympathies for our fellow-men. The following ex- tract, we think, will be acknowledged as belonging to the noblest style of elo- quence I do not mean that every individual is creat- ed, with a physical and intellectual constitution capable of attaining, with the sane opportuni- ties, the same degree of improvement. I cannot assert that; nor would I wittingly undertake to VOL. vi. 12 89 Literary Notices. disprove it. I leave It aside; and suppose that, on an average, men are born with equal capaci- ties. What then do we behold, as regards the difference resulting from education and train- ing? Let us take examples, in the two ex- tremes. On the one hand, we have the New- Zealand savage; but little better, in appearance, than the Ourang Outang, his fellow tenant of the woods, which afford much the same shelter to both ; almost destitute of arts, except that of horribly disfiguring the features, by the painful and disgusting process of tattooing, and that of preparing a rude war-club, with which he de- stroys his fellow savage of the neighboring tribe; his natural enemy while he lives; iris food, if he can conquer or kidnap him; laying up no store of provision, but one, which I scarce d re descrihe,whieh consists in plunging a stick into the water, where it is soon eaten to honey- comb by the worms, which abound in tropical climates, and which then taken out furnishes in these worms a supply of their most favorit food to these forlorn children of nature. Such is this creature from youth to age, from fath r to son,a eavage, a cannibal, a brute ;a hurrian being, a fellow-man, a rational and imorortal soul; carrying about under that squalid loath- some exterior,hidden under those brutal man- ners, and vices disgusting at once and abornina- ble, a portion of the intellectual principle, which likens roan to his Maker. This is one specimen of ho inanity; how shall we bring another into immediate contrast with it? How better, than by contemplating what may be witnessed on hoard the vessel, which carries the enhighterred European or American to these dark and dreary corners of the earth? You there behold a majestic vessel, hounding over the billows from the orliec side of the globe; easily fashioned to float, in safety, over the bottomless sea; to spread urn her broad wings, and catch ttre mid- night breeze, guided by a single drowsy sailor at the helm, with two or three companions re- clining listlessly on sire deck, gazing into the depths of the starry heavens. The conimander of this vessel, not surpassing thousands of his brethren in intelligerce and skill, knows how., by pointing his glass at the heavens, and taking an observation of the stars, and turning over the leaves of his Practical Navigator, and mak- ing a few figures on his slate, to tell the spot, which his vessel has reached on the trackless sea:and he can also tell it, by means of a steel spring and a few brass wheels, put togeth- er in the shape of a chronometer. The glass with which he brings the heavens down to the earth, and by which he measures the twenty- one thousand six hundredth part of theircircuit, is made of a quantity of flint, sand, and alkali, coarse opaque substances, which he has melt- ed together into the beautiful medium, which excludes the air and the rain, and admits the hight,by means of whirls he can count the orders of animated nature in a dew-drop, and measure the depth of tias valleys in the moon. He has, running up and down his mainmast, an iron chain, fabricated at home, by a wonderful succession of mechanical contrivances, out of a rock brought from deep caverns iii the earth, and which has the power of conduretirig the lightning, harmlessly duuwn the sides of tire ves- sel, into the deep. lIe tines not creep timidly along from headland to headland, nor guide his course across a narrow sea, by the north star; but he launches bravely on the pathless and bottomless deep, and carries about with him in a box a faithful little pilot, who watches when the eye of man droops with faiigue,a snuahi and patient steersman, whi(uun darkness does not blind, nor tise storm drive from his post, and who points from the other side of the globe, through the convex earth,to the steady pole. If he falls in with a pirate, he does not wait to repel him, hand to hand; but he puts into a mighty engine a handful of dark pouvder, into which he has condensed an immense quantity of elastic air, and wh,ch, when it is touched by a spark of fire, will instantly expand into its original volume, and drive arm artificial thunder- bolt before it, againstthe distant enemy. When he meets another similar vessel on the sea, homeward bound from a like excursion to his own, lie makes a few black isacks on a piece of paper, and sends it home, a distance of ten thousand orihes; arid thereby speaks to Iris em- ployer, to his family, and iris friends,as dis- tinctly and significantly as if they were seated by his side. At the cost of half the labor, wrth which the savage procures hirruseif the skin of a wild beast, to cover iris nakedness, this child of civilized life has provided himself with the roost, substantial, curious, and corrveniermt cloth- ingtextures and tissues of wool, cotton, linen, and silkthe contributions of the four quarters of the globe, and of every kingdom of nature. To fill a vacant hour, it dispel a gathering cloud from his spirits, he has curious instruments of music, which speak another language of new and strange significance to his heart ;which make his veins thrill and his eyes overflow with tears, without the utterance of a word,and with one sweet succession of harmonious sounds, send his heart back, over the waste of waters, to the distant home, where his wife and his children are gathered around the fireside, trembling at the thought, that the storm, which beats upon the windows, umay perhaps overtake their beloved voyager on the distant seas. And in his cabin, he has a library of vculurnes,the strange production of a machine of almost magi- cal powerswhich, as he turns over their leaves, enable him to converse with the great and good of every chirnue and age, arid which, even repeat to him, in audible notes, the Laws of his God and the promises of his Savior, and point out to him that happy land, which he hopes to reach, when his flag is struck, and his sails are fuimled, and tise voyage of life is over. The imaginations of uhose, whom I have the honor to address, will be able to heighten this contrast, by a hundred traits on either side, for which I have not time; but even as I have presented it, will it he deemed extravagant, if I say, that there is a greater difference between the educated child of civilized life soul the New- Zealaird savage, than between the New-Zea- lanmd savage and the Ourang Outang? And yet the New-Zeahander was born a rational being, like the civilized European and American; and the civilized European and American en- tered life, like the New-Zealander, a helpless wailing babe. The thrilling passage on Greece was listened to with the roost rapt attention by the thronged audience. It was an interesting circumstance that an ac- complished young man from Greece was present, and listened to this extraor- dinary burst of eloquence. After the conclusion of the oration, he requested permission to translate it into Greek and distribute it among his country- men; so that before long this appeal will he heard ira the land, and almost in the language, of Demosthenes and Plato. We cannot forbear qrroting it entire: What, but the ever-living power of literature and religion, preserved the Ii l~t of civilization ansd the intellectual stores of the past, unextin- guished in Greece, during the long and dreary ag a f the decline and downfall of the Roman 90 empire? What preserved these sterile provinces and petty islets from sinking, beyond redemp- tion,in the gulf of barbarity in which Cyrene, aiid Egypt, and Syria, were swallowed up? It was Christianity arid letters, retreating to their fast- nesses on mountain tops and iii seriurled valleys, the heights of Athos the peaks of Meteora, the caverns of Arcadia, the secluded cells of Par- mos. Here, while alt else in the world seem .d swept away, by one general flood of barbarism, civil discoril, and military oppression, the Greek rrmnks of the d rk ages preserved arid transcr,l,zO their Homers, their Platos, and their Plutarchs. There never was, strictly speaking, a dark age in Greece. Etistathius wrote his admirable commentaries on Homer, in the mid- dle of the twelfth century. That, surely, if ever, was the midnight of the mind; but it was clear and serene day, in his learned cell; and Italy, proud already of her Dante, tier Boccac cm, and Petrarchi,her Medicean patronage and her reviving arts,did not think it beneath her to sir at the feet of the poor fugitives from the final downfall of Constantinople. What, but the same causes, enforced by the power of the press, and by the sy pathy with Greece which pervaded the educated corrimuni ty of the modern world, has accomplished the political restoration of that country? Thirteen years ago, it lay under a hopeless despotism. Its native inhabitants, as such, were marked out for oppression and plunder,tolerated in their religion for the sake of the exactions, of which it furnished the occasion,-.--shut out from the hopes and honors of social life,agricutture, and aft the visible and tangible means of acqui- sition, duscountenanccd,.-commerce, instead of liftiugher honored front, like an ocean queen, as she does here, creeping furtively from islet to iSlet, and concealiugher precarious gains, the seas infested with pirates, and theland with robbers,The population exhibiting a strange mhtture of the virtues of the bandit and the vices of the slave, but possessing, in generous transmission from better days,the elements of a free and enlightened community. Such was Greece thirteen years ago, and the prospect of throwing off the Turkish yoke, in every re- spect but this last, was as wild and chimerical as the effort to throw off the Cordilleras from this continent. Iii all respects but one, it would have been as reasonable to expect to raise a harvest of grain from the barren rock of Hydra, as to found a free and prosperous state in this abject Turkish province. But the stand- ard of liberty was raised, on the soil of Greece, by theyoung men who returned from the univer- sities of western Europe, and the civilized world was electrified at the tidings. It was the birth- place of the arts,the cradle of letters. Rea- soon of state held back the governments of Rerope and of America from an interference in their favor, but intellectual sympathy, religious and moral feeling, arid the public opinion of the age, rose in their might, and swept all thebar- nets of state logic away. They were feeble, unarmed, without organization, distracted by feuds; an adamairtine watt of neutrality on he west; an incensed barbarian empire,horde after horde,from the confines of Anatolia to the cataracts of the Nite,pouring down rapon them, on the east. Their aruiies and their navies were a mockery of military power, their resources calculated to inspire rather commiser- ation than fear. But their spirits were sus- tained, and their wearied hands upheld, by the benedictions and the succors of the friends of freedom. The memory of their great men of old went before them to battle, arid scattered dismay in the ranks of the barbarous foe, as he moved, like Satan iii belt, with uneasy steps, over the burning soil of freedom. The sympa- thy of all considerate and humane persons was 91 enlisted in behalf of the posterity, however de- generate, of those, who had taught letters and hutaranity to the world. Men could not bear, with patience, that Christian per)ple, striking for liberty, sh,,rrtd be trarrupted down by barba- rian infidels, on the soil of Attica and Sparta. The public opinion of the world was enlisted on their side,and Liberty herself, personified, seeuied touched with compassion, as she heard the cry of her venerated parent, the guardjan genius of Greece. She hastened to realize the holy legend of the Roman daughter, and send back from her pure bosom the tide of life to the wasting form of her parent: The milk of his own gift ;it is her sire To whom she renders back the debt of blood, Born with her birth ;no, he shall not expire. Greece did not expire. The eons of Greece caught new life from desperation: the plague of the Turkish arms was stayed, till the gov- ernments followed, where the people had led the way, and the war, which was sustained by the literary and religious sympathies of the friends of art and science, was brought to a tri- utiuphant close, by the armies and navies of Europe :and there they now stand, the first great re-conquest of modern civilization. Many, I doubt riot, who hear toe, have had the pleasure, within a few weeks, of receiving a Greek oration, pronounced in the temple of The- seris, on the reception at Athens of the first offi- cial act of the young Christian prince, under whom the government of this interesting coun- try is organized. What contemplations does it not awaken, to behold a youthful Bavarian prince, deputed by the great powers of Europe, to go, with the guaranties of letters, religion, arid the arts, to the city of Minerva, which had reach- ed the summit ofhuman civilization, ages before Bavaria had emerged from the depths of the Black Forest! One can almost imagine the shades of the great of other days, the patriots and warriors, the philosophers and poets, the historians and orators,risiag from theirrenowim- ed graves, to greet the herald of their countrys restoration. One can almost fancy that the sacred dust of the Ceramicus must kindle into hfe as he draws near; that the sides of Delphi and Parnassus, and the banks of the Ilissus, must swarm with the retrirning spirits of an- cierut times. Yes! Marathon and Thermopyla are nioved to meet him at his coming. Martyrs of liberty, na s that shall never die,Solon and Pericles, Socrates and Phocion, not now with their cups of hemlock in their hands,but with the deep lines of their living cares effaced from their serene browsat the head of that glorious company of poets, sages, artists, and heroes, which the world has never e rated, de- scend the famoos snail from the Acropolis to the sea, to hid the Deliverer welcome tothe land of glory and the arts. Remember, they cry, Oh, Prince! the land thou art set to rule; it is the soil of freedom. Remember The great and wise of old, in whose place thou art called to stand,the fathers of liberty; remember the precious blood which has wet these sacred fields; pity thebteeding remnants of what was once so grand and fair; respect em time- worn and venerable ruins; raise up the fallen columns of these beautiful fanes, nnd conse- crate rhem to the Heavenly Wisdoni ; restore the banished muses to their native seat; be the happy instrnrment, in the hand of Heaven, of enthroning letters, and liberty, and rehigton, on the surnimits of orir ancient hills; and pay back the debt of the civilized world, to reviving, re- generated Greece. Sun shall the blessing of those ready to perish come upon thee, and ages after the vulgar train of conquerors and princes is forgotten, thou shalt be remembered, as the youthful Restorer of Greece ! Literary Notices. Our File. 92 The Rosary. This is a small volume of poetry, se- lected, for the most part, from the newspapers and magazines. A few of the poems are from popular English authorsOgilvie, Merrick, Mrs. Bar- bauld, Mrs. Hemans, & c. Some of them are the productions of writers less known and celebrated. but perhaps not boss deserving of quotation. A consid- erable portion of the volume consists of selections from the fugitive poetry of Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Gould, Willis G~ Clarke, Bryant, Sprague, N. P. Willis, Ware, & c. There are many anony- mous pieces, both of English and Amer- ican production, some of which are not inferior in merit to any which have been acknowledged by their respective writers. It seems to have been an ob- ject with the compiler, to embody in a cheap and neat volume, not unsuita- ble for the use of those who are in the habit of making presents to their friends at this season,a collection of moral and religious poems, that might be consid- ered a sort of supplement t the Sab- bath Recreations, published, a few years since, by the Rev. Mr. Pierpont, of Boston. It contains only two pieces that are in Mr. Pierponts book, and but very few that have appeared in any similar collection. We copy a single article from this colle,ction, as well on account of its harmony of versification and peculiar adaptation of lan,,uage to the subject. as to verify our remark, that the anonymous pieces are not infe- rior, in theirinoral or poetical cheracter, to those from authors of acknowledged merit. A DREAM OF HEAVEN. Lu the seal of death is breaking, Those who slept its sleep are waking, Eden opes her portals fair Hark the harps of God are ringing; Hark ! the seraphs hymn is singimig, And the living ntIs are flinging Music on immortal air! Thereno more at eve declining, Snns without a cloud are shining Oer the land of life and love Heavens own harvests woo the reaper; Heavens own dreams entrance the sleeper; Not a tear is left the weeper To profane one flower above. No frail lilies there are breathing; There no thorny rose is wreathing In the bowers of paradise Where the founts of life are flowirm~ Flowers, unknown to tinre, are blowing, Mid triperber verdure glowisig Ihan is sunned by mortal skies. There the groVes of God, that never Fade or fall, are green forever, Mirrored in the radiant tide There, along the sa red waters, Unprofaned by team or starighters, Wander earths immortal d;rrmghtrmcs, E h a pure immortals bride. There no sigh of memory swelleth There no tear of misery welleth; Hearts will bleed. or break run more: Past is all the cold worlds sc rning, Gone the night, and broke the morning, With seraphuuc day adorning Lifes glad waves and golden shore. 0! on that bright shore to wander, Trace those radiant waves meander, All we loved and lost to see, Is this hope, so prure, to splendid, Vainly with our being blended? No! with Time ye are not ended, Visions of Eternity! OUR FILE~ The Times of our Grandfathers, its author says, is admirably calculated to fill up room. We know not when we shall be able to find space ample enough to contain it. The Letter on the Mississippi, we should return agreeably to the request of the author, if we had not lost his (or her) direction. Lo Util y lo Agradable, would be more acceptable, if the scene were shift- ed across the Atlantic. Numerous other contributions are on file for future disposition.

Our File. 92 The Rosary. This is a small volume of poetry, se- lected, for the most part, from the newspapers and magazines. A few of the poems are from popular English authorsOgilvie, Merrick, Mrs. Bar- bauld, Mrs. Hemans, & c. Some of them are the productions of writers less known and celebrated. but perhaps not boss deserving of quotation. A consid- erable portion of the volume consists of selections from the fugitive poetry of Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Gould, Willis G~ Clarke, Bryant, Sprague, N. P. Willis, Ware, & c. There are many anony- mous pieces, both of English and Amer- ican production, some of which are not inferior in merit to any which have been acknowledged by their respective writers. It seems to have been an ob- ject with the compiler, to embody in a cheap and neat volume, not unsuita- ble for the use of those who are in the habit of making presents to their friends at this season,a collection of moral and religious poems, that might be consid- ered a sort of supplement t the Sab- bath Recreations, published, a few years since, by the Rev. Mr. Pierpont, of Boston. It contains only two pieces that are in Mr. Pierponts book, and but very few that have appeared in any similar collection. We copy a single article from this colle,ction, as well on account of its harmony of versification and peculiar adaptation of lan,,uage to the subject. as to verify our remark, that the anonymous pieces are not infe- rior, in theirinoral or poetical cheracter, to those from authors of acknowledged merit. A DREAM OF HEAVEN. Lu the seal of death is breaking, Those who slept its sleep are waking, Eden opes her portals fair Hark the harps of God are ringing; Hark ! the seraphs hymn is singimig, And the living ntIs are flinging Music on immortal air! Thereno more at eve declining, Snns without a cloud are shining Oer the land of life and love Heavens own harvests woo the reaper; Heavens own dreams entrance the sleeper; Not a tear is left the weeper To profane one flower above. No frail lilies there are breathing; There no thorny rose is wreathing In the bowers of paradise Where the founts of life are flowirm~ Flowers, unknown to tinre, are blowing, Mid triperber verdure glowisig Ihan is sunned by mortal skies. There the groVes of God, that never Fade or fall, are green forever, Mirrored in the radiant tide There, along the sa red waters, Unprofaned by team or starighters, Wander earths immortal d;rrmghtrmcs, E h a pure immortals bride. There no sigh of memory swelleth There no tear of misery welleth; Hearts will bleed. or break run more: Past is all the cold worlds sc rning, Gone the night, and broke the morning, With seraphuuc day adorning Lifes glad waves and golden shore. 0! on that bright shore to wander, Trace those radiant waves meander, All we loved and lost to see, Is this hope, so prure, to splendid, Vainly with our being blended? No! with Time ye are not ended, Visions of Eternity! OUR FILE~ The Times of our Grandfathers, its author says, is admirably calculated to fill up room. We know not when we shall be able to find space ample enough to contain it. The Letter on the Mississippi, we should return agreeably to the request of the author, if we had not lost his (or her) direction. Lo Util y lo Agradable, would be more acceptable, if the scene were shift- ed across the Atlantic. Numerous other contributions are on file for future disposition.

Our File. 92 The Rosary. This is a small volume of poetry, se- lected, for the most part, from the newspapers and magazines. A few of the poems are from popular English authorsOgilvie, Merrick, Mrs. Bar- bauld, Mrs. Hemans, & c. Some of them are the productions of writers less known and celebrated. but perhaps not boss deserving of quotation. A consid- erable portion of the volume consists of selections from the fugitive poetry of Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Gould, Willis G~ Clarke, Bryant, Sprague, N. P. Willis, Ware, & c. There are many anony- mous pieces, both of English and Amer- ican production, some of which are not inferior in merit to any which have been acknowledged by their respective writers. It seems to have been an ob- ject with the compiler, to embody in a cheap and neat volume, not unsuita- ble for the use of those who are in the habit of making presents to their friends at this season,a collection of moral and religious poems, that might be consid- ered a sort of supplement t the Sab- bath Recreations, published, a few years since, by the Rev. Mr. Pierpont, of Boston. It contains only two pieces that are in Mr. Pierponts book, and but very few that have appeared in any similar collection. We copy a single article from this colle,ction, as well on account of its harmony of versification and peculiar adaptation of lan,,uage to the subject. as to verify our remark, that the anonymous pieces are not infe- rior, in theirinoral or poetical cheracter, to those from authors of acknowledged merit. A DREAM OF HEAVEN. Lu the seal of death is breaking, Those who slept its sleep are waking, Eden opes her portals fair Hark the harps of God are ringing; Hark ! the seraphs hymn is singimig, And the living ntIs are flinging Music on immortal air! Thereno more at eve declining, Snns without a cloud are shining Oer the land of life and love Heavens own harvests woo the reaper; Heavens own dreams entrance the sleeper; Not a tear is left the weeper To profane one flower above. No frail lilies there are breathing; There no thorny rose is wreathing In the bowers of paradise Where the founts of life are flowirm~ Flowers, unknown to tinre, are blowing, Mid triperber verdure glowisig Ihan is sunned by mortal skies. There the groVes of God, that never Fade or fall, are green forever, Mirrored in the radiant tide There, along the sa red waters, Unprofaned by team or starighters, Wander earths immortal d;rrmghtrmcs, E h a pure immortals bride. There no sigh of memory swelleth There no tear of misery welleth; Hearts will bleed. or break run more: Past is all the cold worlds sc rning, Gone the night, and broke the morning, With seraphuuc day adorning Lifes glad waves and golden shore. 0! on that bright shore to wander, Trace those radiant waves meander, All we loved and lost to see, Is this hope, so prure, to splendid, Vainly with our being blended? No! with Time ye are not ended, Visions of Eternity! OUR FILE~ The Times of our Grandfathers, its author says, is admirably calculated to fill up room. We know not when we shall be able to find space ample enough to contain it. The Letter on the Mississippi, we should return agreeably to the request of the author, if we had not lost his (or her) direction. Lo Util y lo Agradable, would be more acceptable, if the scene were shift- ed across the Atlantic. Numerous other contributions are on file for future disposition.

THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE. FEBRUARY, 1834. ORIGINAL PAPERS.~ AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MATHEW CAREY.. LETTER V. WHEN I relinquished the ill-fated Museum, I commenced book-sell- ing and printing on a small scale. My store, or rather my shop, was of very moderate diLnensions; but, small as it was, I had not full-bound books enough to fill the shelvesa considerable portion of them were occupied by spelling-books. 1 procured a credit at Bank, which ena- bled me to extend my business; and by care, indefatigable industry, the most rigid punctuality, and frugality, I gradually advanced in the world. Some idea may be formed of my devotion to business, from the fact, that for above twenty-five years, I was present, winter and summer, at the opening of my store; and my parlor being close to the store, I always left my meals, when business of any importance was being transacted. In 1793, I was a member of the Committee of Health, appointed to devise the best course to be pursued for the relief of the sick of the Yellow Fever, and of the orphans, who had been and might be bereft of their parents or other protectors. While the committee were delib- erating on the appointment of managers of Bush Hill hospital, (a villa belonging to William Hamilton, Esq. of which possession had been taken, in the absence of the proprietor, from the impossibility of procuring any other place as well situated ;) while, I say, they were thus deliberating, they were inexpressibly delighted by the offer of Stephen Girard, one of the members, to officiate in the capacity of superintendent. Stim- ulated by this noble offering of himself, as a sort of forlorn hope in the cause of humanity, in a situation which was generally regarded as dooming the party to destruction, Peter Helm, a plain German, caine forward, and offered his services in the same perilous office. They both performed the duty most faithfully. Mr. Girard helped to dress the sores, and perform all the menial offices for the sick. This part of the duty was not, I believe, so much attended to by Mr. Helm, who had the general superintendence of the house and all its concerns. I wrote a full account of the rise, progress, effects, and termination of this dreadful calamity, of which I published four editions. The VOL. VI. 13 94 Autobiography of Mathew Carey. chief part of one of them, the second, was sent to Europe, for the information of correspondents. Hundreds of them were sent by debtors to creditors in that quarter, to account for deficiency of remit- tance. The following extract from this pamphlet may prove interesting to the reader The consternation of the people of Philadelphia, at this period, September, 1793, was beyond all bounds. Dismay and aifright were visible in almost every persons countenance. Most of those who could, by any means, make it conven- ient, fled from the city. Of those who remained, many shut themselves up in their houses, being afraid to walk the streets. The smoke of tobacco being regarded as a preventive, many persons, even women and small boys, had cigars almost constantly in their mouths. Others, placing full confidence in garlic, chewed it almost the whole day; some kept it in their pockets and shoes. Many were afraid to allow the barbers or hair-dressers to come near them, as instances had occurred of some of them having shaved the dead, and many having engaged as bleeders. Some, who carried their caution pretty far, bought lancets for them- selves, not daring to allow themselves to be bled with the lancets of the bleeders. Many houses were scarcely a moment in the day free from the smell of gunpow- der, burnt tobacco, nitre, sprinkled vinegar, & c. Some of the churches were almost deserted, and others wholly closed. The coffee-house was shut up, as was the city library, and most of the public offices; three, out of the four daily papers, were discontinued, as were some of the others. Many devoted no small portion of their time to purifying, scouring, and whitewashing their rooms. Those who ventured abroad, had handkerchiefs or sponges, impregnated with vinegar or camphor, at their noses, or smelling-bottles full of thieves vinegar. Others carried pieces of tarred rope in their bands or pockets, or camphor bags tied round their necks. The corpses of the most respectable citizens, even of those who had not died of the epidemic, were carried to the grave on the shafts of a chair, the horse driven by a negro, unattended by a friend or relation, and without any sort of ceremony. People uniformly and hastily shifted their course at the sight of a hearse coming towards them. Many never walked on the foot-path, but went into the middle of the streets, to avoid being infected in passing houses wherein people had died. Acquaintances and friends avoided each other in the streets, and only signified their regard by a cold nod. The old custom of shaking hands, fell into such general disuse, that many shrunk back with aifright at even the offer of the hand. A person with a crape, or any appearance of mourning, was shunned like a viper; and many valued themselves highly on the skill and address with which they got to windward of every person whom they met. In- deed, it is not probable that London, at the last stage of the plague, exhibited stronger marks of terror, than were to be seen in Philadelphia, from the twenty- fifth or twenty-sixth of August, till late in September. When the citizens sum- moned resolution to walk abroad, and take the air, the sick cart conveying patients to the hospital, or the hearse carrying the dead to the grave, which were traveling almost the whole day, soon damped their spirits, and plunged them again into despondency. While affairs were in this deplorable state, and people at the lowest ebb of despair, we cannot be astonished at the frightful scenes that were acted, which seemed to indicate a total dissolution of the bonds of society in the nearest and dearest connexions. Who, without horror, can reflect on a husband, married per- haps for twenty years, deserting his wife in the last agonya wife, unfeelingly aban- doning her husband on his death-bedparents forsaking their childrenchildren ungratefully flying from their parents, and resigning them to chance, often with- out an inquiry after their health or safetymasters hurrying off their faithful servants to Bush Hill, even on suspicion of the fever, and that at a time, when, almost like Tartarus, it was open to every visitant, but rarely returned anyser- vants abandoning tender and humane mnasters, who only wanted a little care to re- store them to health and usefulnesswho, I say, can think of these things with- out horror ? It is a curious fact, which I leave physiologists to account for, that some of the most tranquil and happy hours of my existence were passed during the prevalence of this pestilence. And the feelings of Autobiography of Mathew Carey. 95 my colleagues generally, were pretty much the same. I was, for the first time for ten years, wholly free fiom the cares of businesshad no money to boriowno notes to payand my mind was fully occupied by the duties to which I had devoted myself. We generally breakfast- ed at home, at an early hour, and mustered immediately at the state- house, where we remained till late in the evening. We had a side- board plentifully provided with ham, round of beef, cheese, bread, wine, and porter; and we freely enjoyed the good things provided for usbecame a band of brothers, attached to each otherand were in some degree callous to the scenes, which daily and hourly took place, and of some of which we were eye-witnesses. The only drawback on our enjoyment, was when some friend or relation was swept away sud- denlywhen we had information that one of our colleagues shared that fate* or when some person had become a corpse, whom we had seen or known to be in good health a few hours before. One day I rode with Caleb Lowndes towards Bush Hill, where we stopped to speak to the physician, Dr. B. Duffield, who was standing at the gate. He asked us to alight, which we complied with. After we had coiiversed together for a fe~v minutes, he invited us to come in, and examine the house. Lowndes had the prudence to refuse. But although I saw the impropriety of a wanton exposure of myself to danger, without any possible good to arise from it, I had not courage to refuse (a failing which has often cost me dear;) I entered the build- ing, and went through every room in the house. The atmosphere was fetid, for it was just after Messrs. Girard & 1-leIm had undertaken the management of it, and before there was opportunity to purify the rooms from the pestilential air that had accumulated, previous to that epoch, when dead and putrefying bodies remained for days collected in the rooms, the attendants having been inadequate to inter them. When I returned home, I found, or perhaps only fancied, myself affected with what are always regarded as incipient syrnptomslassi- tudepains in the head and backand an icy coldness over the sur- face of my body. I was, as may be readily supp-~ed, considerably alarmedand obstare principiis being my maxim, I took immediate measures to arrest the fell destroyer in his career. I bathed my feet in warm watertook large draughts of warm centaury teaand went early to bed, covered with as many blankets as I could well bear. I had a strong presentiment that a sound sleep and copious perspiration would completely put the enemy to flight. For three or four hours I could neither sleep nor perspire. But, at length, I fell into as sound a sleep as if I had been drenched with laudanum; and, when I awoke, was covered with a profuse perspiration, and found myself as well as I had ever been. Let me here insert two or three banking anecdotes, although one of them, at least, is rather out of time. The Bank of North-America was regarded pretty much as a Quaker bank,its most influential directors being Friends. I had a small * Four of our members, among the most valuable citizens that Philadelphia could boast of, died of the feverJonathan Dickinson Sergeant, the father of ottr estimable fellow-citizen, John Ser- geant, Esq. Andrew Adgate, Laniel Offley, and Joseph tnskeep. Mr. Sergeant left ten cbildren, one of them posthomous. Seven of them were under thirteen years of age. What a sacrifice in the cause of humanity! Of the whole number of members there are now living only four, Thomas XTistar, John Letchworth, James Sharswood, and the writer of these pages. 96 Autobiography of Mathew Carey. account there, and was sufficiently accommodated When that inter- esting comedy, Wild Oats, came to this country, I published it. There is introduced among the dramatis persona~ a hypocritical Quaker, Ephraim Smooth, at which the Quakers very naturally took offence. Simultaneously with this publication, I met with several unusual rejec- tions at this Bank. It being a novelty, I was, from the coincidence, led to believe it was in consequence of the publication of Wild Oats, which the good followers of the illustrious Penn, I supposed, took in high dudgeon. How far this idea was correct, I never had any oppor- tunity to decide. I was probably quite mistaken. During the yellow fever of 1798, died my excellent friend, Isaac Price, than whom a better, more zealous, more ardent, or public-spirit- ed man never lived. I was indorser for him at the Bank of Pennsylva- nia to the amount of probably six or seven thousand dollars, and he for me, for five or six thousand dollars. I offered two names of perfectly unexceptionable character, James Gallagher, and John Carrell, to supply his place, each for about one half the total sum. The Bank demanded both names on e~ch note. I felt indignant, refused, and set them at defiance. I wrote them a long and strong letter, in which I distinctly stated, that I would not sanction such a libel on my credit, as to admit that my name, with the addition of that of one of those citizens, was not good for the amount; and that Icould not, ~f I wouldand would not, if I could, give two indorsers to each note meaning, that the confession of the necessity of two names would alarm the parties, and produce a refusal from both. I was in a con- siderable quandary ; and, had the Bank persisted, I really knew not what to do. But I had the pleasure of seeing the president, S. M. Fox, come to me in the evening, with the information, that the Bank had receded from its demandthat I had the privilege of withdrawing my letterand that I might, Li the morning, send in the notes on my own plan. Mr. Fox, who was, in the fullest sense of the word, a com- plete gentleman, of the most amiable manners, spoke to me so kindly, that he brought tears to my eyesa result which has never been pro- duced on me by harshness, but frequently by kindness and sympathy. Philadelphia, Dec. P2, 1833. lvi. CAREY. LETTER VI. IN l79~ or 1793, feeling for the sufferings and ~vretchedness of the numerous Irish emigrants who arrived in this city, many of them pen- nyless, and in a most forlorn situation in every respect, I called a meeting at the Coffee-House, of a number of the most respectable and influen- tial Irishmen in the cityand, having previously prepared a constitu- tion, submitted it to the meeting, by which it was adopted, an associa- tion being formed under the title of The Hibernian Society for the relief of emigrants from Ireland. Hugh Holmes, a man of as kind and friendly a heart, and of as amiable a temper and manners, and withal as jovial and festive a companion, as any native of the Emerald Isle, that ever lived, to whose friendship and kindness I was frequently indebted, was elected President; and I was at the same time elected Secretary, in which office I officiated for a number of years. This society exists in full and beneficent operation at the present day. It has been Autobiography of JUliathew Carey. 97 extremely useful to many hundreds of emigrantssome of whom are now in easy and affluent circumstances, who, but for their aid and ad- vice, might have pined in penury. The treasury has a handsome fund, the interest of which is adequate to the current demands on the society. There was at that period a society of Irishmen in Philadelphia, un- der the title of The Friendly Sons of St. Patrick. Although their object was solely a jovial celebration of the anniversary of the patron saint of the island, and there could, therefore, be no real ground of rivalship between the two societies, the old society was somewhat jeal- ous of the new. And two eminent merchants, belonging to the two societies, having met at the door of one of them,.they had angry words on the subject, which, both being high-tempered and passionate, soon eventuated in a pitched battle, wherein the advocate of the Hibernian Society came off victorious. The name of the latter was Robert Rainy long since dead, without leaving any relations behind in this coun- try; but I withhold the name of his antagonist, out of respect to his son, now living. In 1793 and 1794, I was seized with a theatrical mania, and used to attend in Chestnut-street, particularly in the former year, about twice for every three times the theatre was open. I wrote in each year a set of dramatic criticisms, which induced Wignell and Reinagle to send Mr. Rowson, the prompter, (now employed in the Boston Custom House) to offer me the freedom of the house, which I declined, for the reasons assigned in the annexed letter. GentlemenWhile I am duly sensible of your kindness, I am obliged to decline its acceptance, for reasons which you musi deem satisfactory. If I accept- ed it, and praised the performers and performances, as I am well disposed to do, whenever I can, with justice and propriety, it would be said that I was paying for my seat by puffiug. On the other baud, should I exercise any severity, as would sometimes be proper, (but which I shall always do with reluctance) I should be charged with ingratitude for making so ill a return for your kindness. To avoid all such ill-natured observations. I will hold myselffre to censure or praise, as the case may require. Yours, & c. M. CAREY. In the fall of 1796, I was zealously engaged, with half a dozen or more citizens, in the formation of a Sunday School Society, the first, I believe, ever established in this country, of which the Right Rev. Bishop White was President. This led to the formation of the many hundreds, that exist at present in the United States. About the year 1796, William Cobbett, who had previously written and published anonymously, came before the public inpropriapersona, as a writer and publisher. In the account of his life, published about that period, he made men- tion of me in rather favorable terms. Some sorry scribblers, who did not dare to attack him themselves, strove to embroil us together; and the mostpracticable means they could devise to accomplish this sinister and unworthy purpose, was, to hold out the idea, that he was afraid of me. rI~his was distinctly stated, in four pamphlets and several news- papers. This was copying the example set by children, in a crowd of their fellows, wi~o, when any little bickering takes place between two of their companions, pat each on the back, and encourage him to begin the onset, by persuading him that his antagonist is afraid of him. Of this 98 Autobiograpky of Mathew Carey. very humane and honorable propensity, Smollet availed himself in I~eregrine Pickle, where, in a dispute between Jolter and Pallet, both consummate cowar(ls, ~ ay, to which to prevent them from runnin~ aw denouement both were inclined, they were pushed towards each other by Pickle and Tom 1~ipes. One of these donghty heroes, having ut- tered something like an Indian yell, so terrified the other, that he ran off as if a roaring lion was at his heels. I have no hesitation in acknowledging that I was very much afraid of Cobbeit, and dreaded to enter the lists with such a powerful adver- sary,a controversy ~vith whom I regarded as a most serious evil. He had displayed his talents as a formidable antagonist both before and after laying aside his incognito. It is not wonderful, therefore, that I sought to avoid polemics with him, knowing the extreme severity of his penthe great influence he had on public opinionand the danger of his injuring me in my business, and in my standing in societyas there is no character, however pure or sacred, that is not more or less impaired by a succession of attacks by a powerful writer. The case of General Washington affords a pregnant proof of the correctness of this theory for notwithstanding his inestimable services, his immacu- late character, and the veneration in which he was held, not merely by the great body of his fellow-citizens, but by the civilized world, his standing was temporarily impaired among a large portion of his fellow- citizens, by the reiterated abuse he received during the effervescence that took place in consequence of his signature of Jays Treaty. When such was the fate of this mighty Cedar of Lebanon, what chance would suc.h a slender reed as I, stand, under similar circumstances? One of those scribblers, a certain Joseph Scott, wrote a j~amphlet against Cobb~tt, entitled the Blue Shop, in allusion to the color of his windows and shutters. In the preface he made some kind mention of me, and brought it and the title to me previously to publication, to in- quire whether, in common with other booksellers, 1 would allow it to be advertised for sale in my store. I urged and prayed him to omit the part in question, lest it might comTnit me with Cobbett. But the mulishness of all the mules in Andalusia could not exceed that of Scott. He would not alter an iota, although I solemnly declared that on no other terms would I allow it to enter my store. Be it known that I had not seen the pamphlet, or known any thing of its having been in the press, or even written, before that moment. During the time he was engaged on it, I was absent from Philadelphia in Boston. Being always of opinion, that prevention is far better than cure, I wrote Cohbett the follo~ving letter, to countervail the efforts of those who souuht to array us against each othe SEPTEMBER 6, 1796. Ssa,I regret exceedingly the introduction of my name into your Life; not that I have any reason to complain of the manner in which it is done; for, with- out any affectation of modesty, I think the compliments paid me are rather great- er than I deserve. My regret arises from the occasion it has since given to no less than four writers to couple our names togetherand apparently with a view to lead to a literary warfare between us. I feel no hesitation ahout declaring, that this would, for various reasons, be to me highly disagreeable. My wish is to live peaceably; therefore, I am desirous to avoid controversies of every kind. My business demands my whole attention; therefore, I want the leisure such an irksome affair would require; and, moreover, Autobiography of Mathcw Carey. 99 every prudent man would sedulously seek to avoid, while it could be avoided without dishonor, the probable issue of a controversy, carried on, as, I believe, ours would he. For these and other reasons, I am induced to take this step, as a precaution- ary measure; according to the old adage, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. I therefore inform you, that I have never written or published a line or a sen- tence respecting you; and that it is my determination to pursue the same line of conduct, unless (which I hope will not be the case) I am driven to a different course, by unprovoked aggression. I am, Sir, Your obedient servant, MATHEW CAREY. Mr. WILLIAM COBBETT. To this he made the following courteous reply: PHILADELPHIA, 7 Sept. 1796. SIa,Hurry has prevented me from answering your polite note sooner. Be assured that you cannot have a greater aversion to a paper war, than I have, or a greater contempt for the miserable wretches who have manifested the malicious desire of involving us in one. It is my sincere desire to live in peace with all th~ booksellersand towards none dues this desire direct itself [more] than toward Mr. Carey. I am your most humble and obedient servant W. COBBETT. Mr. M. CAREY. LETTER VII. SOME months afterwards, I was attacked in the United States Ga- zette, by John Ward Fenno, a rash, thoughtless, and imprudent young man, who had succeeded his father in the proprietorship an(l manage- ment of that paper. Cobbett, who patronized Fenno, copied into the Porcupines Gazette some of that young mans abuse. Still desirous of avoiding, if possible, an open collision with a man whom I justly regarded as a most formidable antagonist, I wrote him the following letter Mr. COBBETT, I am concerned to find that you appear disposed to force ~me into a paper warfare with you, whether I will or no. This does not correspond with the declaration in your billet of September 7, 1796 It is my sincere desire to live in peace with all the booksellersand towards none does this desire direct itself [more] than towards Mr. Carey. The aversion I formerly expressed to this warfare bas not diminished. On the contrary, it is stronger than ever. I therefore make this one inure effort to avoid it. Should we he engaged in it, I am determined to he able to exculpate myself from its consequences, whatever they may be. I have merited no ill treatment at your hands, except fi:r the sin of differing from you, toto co/c, in political opinions. I have done you no injury. In the ac- count of your Life, you professed your gratitude towards me; what has canceled this debt? I have, you must acknowledge, taken no common pains to escape a contest with you. To me it would be as irksome, as can well be conceived. For if you slander and abuse me, what am 1 to do? Very unfortunately, in bodily strength I am far your inferior. Were I, as, in my humble opinion, every roan ought, in such a case, to attempt to procure redress by the cudgel, for the injuries of the pen, it is more than probable 1 should only meet with an aggravation of the in- jury. But it is no reason, because I am weaker tllan you, that I am therefore to be subject to your unprovoked att~cks. Shall I return slander for slander, abuse for abuse? In this line I am un- practised. I despise a recurrence to those weapons. Besides, the utmost of my ingenuity could devise nothing to add to what has been written against you inef. 100 Autobiography of Mathew Carey. fectually. I scorn to borrow scurrility from any man. I hope there is no vanity in the declaration, that in fair, open, gentlemanly controversy, there lives not a man from whom I would shrinkbut abuse I have never employed, and never shall avillingly. Should I sue you for dama,,es ?Poor satisfaction to be derived from dancing attendance in courts, to have perhaps a few hundred dollars damages decreed, after an expense of time worth probably double the amount! XVhat other alternative remains? You fight no duels. In this latter mode, the inequality arising from a disparity of strength and size, and from my lame- ness, is done away. But to this ultima rotio there are strong objections. Arms have been your trade for years: I have never drawn hut two triggers in my life. Here, therefore, the inequality returns, though not in so great a degree. But this is not my only objection. I have a wife and four small children to support. On my industry they depend. I owe it to them, to incur no honorably-avoidable risque: This motive, and a decent regard for the laws of the state, induce me to take every step that can be taken with propriety, to avert a commencement of hostilities. But powerful as these motives are, and powerful they must surely be allowed, no man shall abuse or insult me with impunity. I once more, sir, in the same spirit as dictated my former letter, declare, that I have never written or published a line or sentence against you. I have long done writing on politics. I have no concern in, nor control over, the Daily Advertiser ; and cannot, therefore, he responsible for its contents. In fact, al- though I regard it as extremely well conducted in general, yet articles have ap- peared in it, which I disapprove, as much as any thing that has ever appeared in your paper. I should he extremely sorry to have this letter ascribed, on the one hand, to a desire of intimidating you, or, on the other, to any fear of you. They are both equally remote from my heart. My wish is peace. I have done nothing to pro- voke hostility. As long as in my power, I shall avoid itwhen it comes, I shall know how to meet it. ~This letter, like my former, is intended for your own perusal. The other, contrary to my wishes, was divulged. Some anonymous miscreant scoundrel, whom perhaps I may discover and repay, stated it to be a deprecation of your wrath, for injuries I h~ d offered. Heaven and hell are not more opposed to each other, than this idea is to truth. M. CAREY. To this he made a harsh and angry reply, and continued to copy Fennos squibs. I then sought to intimidate him, and wrote him the most severe ]etter J~ ever penned, of which I annex a specimen. Wretch as you are, * * ~ I desire not the honor or credit of being abused or vilified by you. I have not leisure to attend to a controversy, unless I am driven to re-commence the trade of newspaper printing, and make a profession of scribbling; this, if I cannot escape your coarse, low-lived abuse, I shall certainly and infallibly doand then I will hold you up to the execration of mankind. But no; I will never disgrace my paper with your detested name. Callous and case-hardened, you draw subsistence from your infamy and notoriety. Hissed and hooted by the pointing crowd, you care not, provided you can amass money emmough to secure you a competence at the close of your dishonora- ble career. But your writings I shall so cut up, and strip of their sophistry, as to make even Follys self to stare, and wonder how she could possibly have been so long duped by you. * * * * * * * * * * * To send a challenge to a blasted, posted, loathsome coward, who, a disgrace to the name of soldier, when he was called to account for bins vmllany, heim-heart- edly took refuge under the strong arm of the laxv, and swore his life against t.he challenger, would sink me alumost to a level with yourself. But, detested mis- creant, if ever you dare approach the throne of heaven, pour out thanksgivings that E am so far inferior to you in bodily strength. Were I able to grapple with you single-handed, I swear by all my hopes of happiness, the inmost recesses of your dungeon-like labyrinths should not screen you from my ven~eance! Heavens! what pride! what pleasure! I should feel in dragging you reekimmg from your den, and cow-skinning you, till Argus himself should not be able to perceive a hairs Autobiography of Alathew carey. 101 breadth upon your carcass but sore upon sore; so that were you and Lazarus candidates for the commiseration of the public, you would carry oft tbe palm. December 22, 1798. It has been generally supposed, and with some appearance of justice, that I was in a violent passion when I wrote this letter. This is a great error. Mrs. Carey sat opposite to me, while I was writing; and, as I wrote a dozen or twenty lines, I read them to her, and we burst into a fit of laughter at the extreme severity of the styleafter which I resumed my pen. This letter did not produce the effect of silencing him. However, he seemed undetermined for some days what to do. The letter was sent on a Monday, and unnoticed by him till the following Saturday, when he opened his batteries on meand his attacks became more virulent than before. This induced me to publish a Plum Pudding for Peter Porcupine, in which I handled him with great severity in his own abusive style, and therein published our correspondence. To turn this publication into ridicule, he sent his servant with some venison and jelly between two plates, in return for the Plum Pudding. I did not feel disposed to let the affair pass sub silentioand sent back his present by a stout Irish porter, above six feet high, with directions to let the plates fall in the middle of Cobbetts store, and, if possible, in his presence, and to be ready to defend himself in the event of aggression, pledging myself that I would, as far as the nature of the case permitted, bear him harmless. lie performed the service faith- fully, as he saidgave a scowling look of defiance at Cobbett, and came away unmolested. This publication gave rise to a slight altercation with Robert Good- be Harper. On the day of publication, he came to my store in com- pany with Messrs. Swift, Coit, and Dana, three members of Congress, and observed I underst nd you have been giving it to Cobbett. Yes, says I. I have treated him in his own style. I have no idea of fighting a man with a small sword, who has a wheelbarrow full of brickbats to knock my brains out. I have given him brickbat f6r brickbat. After some further conversation, Give me, says he, a copy; for I like to read all these blackguard things. Irritated by this rudeness, I said, Then, sir, you must like to read your own speeches, for by they are among the most blackguard things that have appeared in this country. He bit his lip, changed color, and appear- ed undetermined whether or not to knock me down, which he could readily have done. At length, he walked off quietly, with tarnished laurels. I was, as may be supposed, tickled with the result, and men- tioned the affair to all who came to my store in the afternoon. It made its way to the beer-houses in the evening; to the Aurora in the morn- ing; and into a large portion of the Democratic papers throughout the Union in due course. Philadelphia, Dece aber 28, 1S~B. * I should have some reluctance about re-publishing tiese extracts and letters, but that all the abuse ever leveled at me by Cobbett is embalmed imi Cobbette works, pobltshed in London in the year 1801, in twelve volumes, and will be read when I am dead and gone. It is therefore not improper to record some portion of the offset matter. VOL. Vi. 14 102 Autobiography of ]Jiatkew Carey. LETTER VIII. I NEXT published the Porcupiniad, a Hudibrastic poem, in which I gave a great number of extracts to show the scurrilous and abusive nature of Cobbetts paper. I turned some of his paragraphs into Hudi- brastic verse, and it is wonderful how smoothly they ran, in many in- stances, with the alteration of a single word or twoand often with- out the alteration of a letter. It must be a republican to belie a fallen republic. You are like porpoises, the moment one receives a wound, the rest gather round and devour him. Dec. 6, 1798. None but a republican so base, As to belie and heap disgrace, On fallen republics. You are all, Vile porpoises, both great and small. The moment one receives a wound, The rest, instanter, gather round, And seizing their devoted prey, Tear and devour him straightway.* Cullibility is far from being the characteristic of Americans in the com- mon concerns of life; but in politics they have shown themselves most miserably shallow. They have been the dupes of every artful rascal, who has thought it worth his while to deceive them. P. G. November 8, 1798. Th Americans, I know full well, In small affairs, a nt cullible, In politics they re very shallow, I/nd duped by every artful fellow, Or sascal, who thinks worth his while Their easy nature to beguile. Shoot and hack away, my brave fellows ! You cannot strike amiss. Lay about you on all sides; and, like Hercules of old, when you have rid the world of all other tnonsters, conclude by doing justice on yourselves. So shall your vile car- casses become a prey to the beasts of the forest and to the fowls of the air, and the earth shall have peace. Amen. Sept. 17, 1797. Shoot, hack away, my fellows brave, Nor child, nor man, nor woman save. You cannot strike amiss, neer doubt you; On all sides fiercely lay about you, * Should any critic be disposed to be severe on some of these lines, as harsh and unpoetical, let him examine Hudibras, the grand prototype of this species of versification, and he will find coup- lets infinitely more harsh than any of mineas, for example: And shine upon me but benignly, With that one and the other pigsney. Hudibras, p. IL c. 1. 560. If we permit men to run headlong, To exorbitances fit for bedlam. Idem, p. 1. r. IL 655. Was no dispute afoot between The caterwauling brethren? Iden, 701. T was nothing so. Both sides were balanct So equal, none knew which was valiantst. idem, 807. Ward, author of Englands Reformation, a celebrated Hudibrastic writer, took equal liberties. That every one may understand What sort of faith we are to teach the land. Englands Reformation, Canto I!. The doctrines taught in every one, Though perfect contradiction. ibid. And in plain syllables declare, That only bread and wine are present there. Ibid. Autobiography of Mathew Carey. 103 And when, like Hercules, you kill All other monsters, then fulfil Decree of justice on yourselves, You Democratic, devlish elves. So shall, our terrors to allay, Your carcasses become a prey Jo fowls in air, and beasts in den, And wearied earth have peace again; I, William Cobbett, sing Amen. This wolf-like trick, is an exact emblem of the general conduct & f the brutes of Democracy all over the world. Dec. 24, 1798. This wo(f like trick exactly suits Democracys most furious brutes. I hope destruction will light on me and mine, if ever I do any thing, either di- rectly or indirectly, to aid or assist him. Porcupines Gazette, May 24, 1798. Destruction light on me and mine, If ever I should once incline, By means direct, or indirect, To aid the caitiff, or protect. Send me afile of your papers, you trimming rascals, and you shall see what pretty creatures I 11 make of you. 1 11 cook you up into a dish fit for the Devil. Idem, Jan. 28, 1798. Of your newspapers send o~flle, You trimming rascals, base and vile; What pretty creatures I shall make you! I 11 make your warmest friends forsake you. To my old patron, Ill be civil; .1 dish I II cook you for the Devil. With this before their eyes, the House of Representatives sit debating, shilly shally, whipping the devil round the post, and no energetic measure is adopted, no strong alien bill or sedition law is passed, nor is any declaration of war made, by which traitors can, in the eye of the law, be found guilty, and punished. Idem, June 19, 1798. Congress, alas are still debating, Shilly shally, hesitating; Whipping the devil rou d the post; And so much precious time is lost; No bill gainst aliens do they pass, No strong sedition law, alas! Nor do the cowards dare declare Against the French a state of war. I presume this is enough for the present letter. My next shall fur- nish another collection, equally creditable to the taste of the public by whom Cobbett was patronized. Philadelphia, Jan. 2, 1834. LETTER IX. I GIVE a few more extracts to show the authoritative and imperious style used by Cobbett and his dictation to the government. Can there be any stronger evidence than these, that you do not possess the public confidence; and that although, by some fatality or other, you Jill seats in Con- gress, you are really not the representatives of the people at this moment, nor the organs of their will and opinion? What do you wait fGr more? Are you re- solved to hang as dead weights, and to stop the wheels of government, until the 104 Autobiography of Mathew Carey. people rise and take you by the shoulders, as Cromwell did the rump, in the last century, and turn you out of doors ? June 26, 1798. And will you, pray, dare make pretence T enjoy the public confidence? Although you fill the Congress seats, You are a pack of very cheats: 1 pray, why will you longer wait? Will you still hang a deadly weight, To stop the governmental wheel, And overturn the commonweal? Wait you until the people rise, Your various misdeeds to chastise, And out doors turn you in a rage, As Cromwell served the rump, last age? Were 1 the king (there is but one upon earth,) I would immediately declare war against the Danes and Swedes. People in aeneral are not aware of the mis- chief these peddling monarchs have done. I pray to God to reward them with a revolution. March 1, 1799. Were I the king (what jubilee !) There is but oneand George is he I would directly war declare Go,inst Danes and Swedes. Few are aware How much their peddling kin s have done Of mischief, which they 11 neer atone. I pray, 0 God! reward them well, With revolutions dire from ! In all combats or rencontresin all transactions of peace or war, between Englishmen and Dutchmen, the perfidy of the latter, and particularly their atro- cious conduct towards the Britisharmny, ought ever tobe remembered. If Icould save one of these suigger-snecing rascals from sinking in the Delaware, I scould not do it. To forgive the crimes of the Dsetch, is one of the most base offences against nature that a Briton can cosns it. Jan. 1, 1798. In each rencontre, or affair, Twixt Dutch and English, peace or war, The Dutchmens perfidy ought not A singl moment be forgot. lf 1 a sni.~.ter-snee could save From sinkiue in ti e Dr/ware wave, Perdit:on on me if I d do it 1 d make the rascals surely rue it. The crisacs qf Date/i nice to jegice, Must ~urcly be, as Im. alive, Gainst nature, the offesece most base, That can on Briton heap disgrace. Let us hope that the Methodist Preachers all over the country will follow this gentlemans example. The Methodists ought to fight as well as other people. The sword and the scord have often co-operated, and such a co-operation is at this time ten thousand times more necessary than ever. There ought to be, and there must be, a real crusade, a holy war, against the infidel reprobate French. To kill one of them ism field of battle. cciii merit more in the eyes of God, than praying and singing psalms for a hundred years. July Ii, 1798. Let us the Methodists excite, As well as other folks, to fight Let the word and sword co-operate To save the holy ark of state; T is thousand times snore needful now, Than in times past, all men llo~v: Let s boldly make a grand crusade And quick the Gallic lands invade P attack the French in field of battle, And butcher them like sheep or cattle; Autobiography of Jlathew Carey. 105 Will gain of grace a greater store, And please the God of mercy more, Than singing psalms a hundred years, Or teazing heaven with prayers and tears. The rascal deserves to have a red-hot wire ru through his tongue. July 11, 1798. Run through his tongue a red-hot wire: No less deserves this rascal dire. And yet the sound of peace re-echoes through the land 0 lasting disgrace! Rivers of blood will not wash it away ! May 26, 1798. Still, through the land, the sound of peace Re-echoes ! 0 what dire disgrace Rivers of blood you d use in vain, To wash away the hideous stain. It would be a happy thing if the accursed art of printing could be totally de- stroyed, and obliterated from the human mind. Sept. 1~ 1798. O what a glorious theme for joy, Could we with vandal rage destroy And from mankind obliterate Printing, that art most reprobate. The Porcupiniad closed the controversy. Cobbett made no attempt at reply, and never, as far as I recollect, had my name in his paper after the publication, except once or twice, and then only incidentally. In 1796 there was an association in the city of Philadelphia, of which Dr. Leib, Dr. Reynolds, John Beckly, W. Duane, J. Clay, and B. F. Bache, were the prime leaders. As the name and character of General Washington were employed as a species of argument in favor of the treaty, it was debated among the leaders, for a considerable time, whether the validity of this argument, that is, the character and merits of General Washington, should be canvassed. At length, in an evil hour, it was resolved to assail General Washington in the Aurora, and in pamphlets, of which a number appeared, some of them coarse and vulgar. Among the rest, the spurious letters published, as those of Washington, during the Revolutionary ~var, and the attacks on the General in an old pamphlet, of which I forget the title, wherein he was charged with the murder of a Frenchman bearing a flag of truce, during the war of 1756. A Pole, of the name of Treziulney, who acted as book-keeper for Mr. Duane, wrote a pamphlet, the object of which was to prove the utter incapacity of General Washington, as dis- played during the revolution. rhese violent measures, which did more to injure the cause of Democracy than all the efforts of its enemies could have done in five years, were carried, as I was given to understand, through the influ- ence of Dr. Leib and Dr. Reynolds, two men of ardent temperament, the latter of ~vhomn was among the most imprudent of men. The pub- lications were highly pernicious to B. F. Bache, who, till that period, was popular on account of his amiable manners and his descent from Dr. Franklin. The Aurora was ably conducted, and had had a very extensive circulation. But the attacks on General Washington blasted Baches popularity, and almost ruined the paper. Subscribers with- drew in crowdsand the advertising custom sank to insignificance. Dr. Reynolds was the most unfortunate of men in all his undertak- ings. Unlike Midas, whose touch turned every thing he came in con- 106 A Specimen of the Acted Drama. tact with, into gold,every thing in which the Doctor was concerned, eventuated unprosperously. On one occasion, he stationed himself in the yard of St. Marys Church, on Sunday, with a chair, table, and desk, to procure subscribers to a memorial to Congress against a pro- posed alteration in the laws respecting citizenship, which went to extend the time of probation for emigrants. The majority of the con- gregation were federalists, and hostile to the object of Dr. Reynolds. A rash young man gave him a shove, and upset his table and deska scuffle ensued, in which the doughty hero of the memorial was severely handledthrown to the groundand his clothes torn. He was finally taken by constables, followed by at least five hundred men and boys, to the House of Judge McKean, by whom he was at once released. What became of the affair afterwards, I have forgotten. So convinced was I of the fatality of his efforts, that I once told himhalf jest, half earnestthat if I were a leading federalist, I would give him five hun- dred dollars a year to take an active part in the affairs of the Demo- crats; for so surely as he did, so surely would they be utterly blasted. Philadelphia, Jan. 6th, 1834. M. CAREY. A SPECIMEN OF THE ACTED DRAMA. IT will be admitted that there are only two grand ends to be aimed at in dramatic representations. The first is the production of great noise and bustle; the second, the introduction of some incident, little short of a miracle, that will have a most startling effect upon an audi- ence. For the first purpose, guns, trumpets, horns, thunder-storms, and earthquakes are in great repute; and if your plot happen to be laid before the invention of gunpowder, the use of it will be so much the more wonderful. For the latter purpose you can use trap-doors, ghosts, sudden and mysterious assassinations; and the occasional res- urrection of a person supposed to be dead will be hailed with the most rapturous approbation. The following scene has been composed strictly in accordance with the rules of the recent drama its only peculiarity consists in being written in blank verse rather above the current order SCENE. A dark wood. Time midnight. Tuscaloosa discovered asleep. The remains of a watch-fire glimmering by his side. Startled by a sudden howl: rises in confusion, and looks wildly about him. Hark! Was my ear deceived, or did I not Drink in deep sounds of terror and despair? Old Tuscaloosas soul is nerved with iron, And never saw the man that it would yield to. What howl was that? Could it have been a wild cat? I 11 tear the beast to pieceswhen I catch him. (A horn sounds.) Why here must be the white man. Shall I run? Or, hide myself? Or, shall I fight with them?

106 A Specimen of the Acted Drama. tact with, into gold,every thing in which the Doctor was concerned, eventuated unprosperously. On one occasion, he stationed himself in the yard of St. Marys Church, on Sunday, with a chair, table, and desk, to procure subscribers to a memorial to Congress against a pro- posed alteration in the laws respecting citizenship, which went to extend the time of probation for emigrants. The majority of the con- gregation were federalists, and hostile to the object of Dr. Reynolds. A rash young man gave him a shove, and upset his table and deska scuffle ensued, in which the doughty hero of the memorial was severely handledthrown to the groundand his clothes torn. He was finally taken by constables, followed by at least five hundred men and boys, to the House of Judge McKean, by whom he was at once released. What became of the affair afterwards, I have forgotten. So convinced was I of the fatality of his efforts, that I once told himhalf jest, half earnestthat if I were a leading federalist, I would give him five hun- dred dollars a year to take an active part in the affairs of the Demo- crats; for so surely as he did, so surely would they be utterly blasted. Philadelphia, Jan. 6th, 1834. M. CAREY. A SPECIMEN OF THE ACTED DRAMA. IT will be admitted that there are only two grand ends to be aimed at in dramatic representations. The first is the production of great noise and bustle; the second, the introduction of some incident, little short of a miracle, that will have a most startling effect upon an audi- ence. For the first purpose, guns, trumpets, horns, thunder-storms, and earthquakes are in great repute; and if your plot happen to be laid before the invention of gunpowder, the use of it will be so much the more wonderful. For the latter purpose you can use trap-doors, ghosts, sudden and mysterious assassinations; and the occasional res- urrection of a person supposed to be dead will be hailed with the most rapturous approbation. The following scene has been composed strictly in accordance with the rules of the recent drama its only peculiarity consists in being written in blank verse rather above the current order SCENE. A dark wood. Time midnight. Tuscaloosa discovered asleep. The remains of a watch-fire glimmering by his side. Startled by a sudden howl: rises in confusion, and looks wildly about him. Hark! Was my ear deceived, or did I not Drink in deep sounds of terror and despair? Old Tuscaloosas soul is nerved with iron, And never saw the man that it would yield to. What howl was that? Could it have been a wild cat? I 11 tear the beast to pieceswhen I catch him. (A horn sounds.) Why here must be the white man. Shall I run? Or, hide myself? Or, shall I fight with them? A Specimen of the A cted Drama. 107 Brave thought! But haply they are two to one I 11 climb the tree. If I can shoot them safely Then be it so: if not, I II snugly lie And meet my death, when I m obliged to die. [Stage directions. Jn uttering the last words the tragedian clenches his fist, makes up a very wry face, and, rushing forward to the foot-lights, bellows out his determination in an exceedingly loud voice. He then waits till the audience have given him a round of applause, when he retires to the hack of the stage and climbs the tree.] Enter Colonel PETERO BENT and THoMAsINo TolePErNs. TOMPKINS. Methought I heard a voice! Could it have been A shade impalpable that vented forth Its terrible curses to the midnight air? Or, was it rather some inhuman savage, Lurking about to murder and waylay Innocent travelers, with their wives and children, Passing at midnight through the pathless wood? Speak to me, Petero. Tell me your opinion. PETERO. Upon my word, I know not, Thomasino. I only know that I sincerely wish My lodgement for the night were not beneath This most inclement skybut that my limbs Were full recumbent on the easy chair, That stands unfilled by my dear chimney corner, Where Mistress Bent, dear creature~ would console me, By stories of the childrens innocent pranks. TOMPKINS. Methinks the night is growing darker, Petero, And the grim clouds thick gather in the sky. Hark! Heard you not that thunder? Heard you not The dread artillery of the murky heavens? [Stage directions. Tompkins looks grimly at Petero. He then advances with stately strides to the audience, and addresses the last question in the most in- quisitive manner to the pit. Then, raising his eyes upwards, and clasping his hands, he remains a moment or two in an attitude till the audience have received the full shock of an accumulated quantity of thunder.j PETERO. It was indeed a screamer, Thomasino. How the rain patters. It will burst, anon, In fearful showers, and we shall be as ~vet As the soaked garments in my consorts tubs. [Stage directions. The rain must now descend in torrents behind the scenes, and not in such a mariner as to expose any of the corps dramatique. There must be the severest storm in this place ever known in the country. An ordinary storm will not answer: the public will be satisfied with nothing short of a hurri- cane.] 108 A Specimen of the Acted Drama. TOMPKINS. Ah, Petero, t is indeed a fearful night. And should the wolves (Howl of a pack of wolves in the distance.) What, heard you not that howl? It was tremendous. Deeply, darkly horrible. Ah, Petero, were I only once safe home, It should be much that would induce me to Bother me with the woes of such a night. And then to think that for the paltry sum Of seven and sixpence, we have ventured thus The hargain was a poor one, Petero. PETERO. You were not sharp enough, good rrhon~as1no: You might have got nine shillings, at the least, For such a job; ay, and a drink to hoot. TOMPKINS. We will not quarrel. When the elements Are thus at war, let not two wandering mortals Be quarrelsome for a trifle. Did you see That sudden flash? it is the keenest lightning I ~ve seen this twelvemonth. [Stage directions. Let there be a sudden flash of lightning, unaccompanied by thunder, because that would drown the voice of the speaker, and is too expensive to be superfluously introduced. The lightning strikes the tree in which Tusca- loosa is concealed, and he falls, with a terrible howl, upon the heads of Petero and Thomasino. They start and shout in great alarm, evidently mistaking Tus- caloosa for the devil. He waves his hand, and they kneel to him on either side. They remain in this attitude long enough for the house to give three rounds of applause. The Indian raises his tomahawk, when, on a sudden, BAMBoLossA starts from behind a stump, levels his rifle at Tuscaloosa, and exclauns, in a voice of thunder BAMBOLOSSA. Tuscaloosa, hold! Restrain thy murderous arm TuscALoosA. What, is it so Then, wretches, feel my vengeance. Tuscaloosa Shall play the devil with you. [Tuscaloosa raises the war-whoop. On the instant, the stage is crowded with his tribe, advancing from every direction, with horrible yells. Tuscaloosa gives a look of defiance, and shout of triumph, and the drop descends amid thunders of applause.] 109 THE TIMES OF OUR GRANDFATHERS. You may talk as much as you please about the march of mind, said the old gentleman, strikinQ his cane against one of the logs, which had just begun to blaze in the lar e chimney, but there are some things about it, which dont suit my ideas of what should be, at all. Here you are, one reading a Waverley novel, another a French play. a third is probably writing Greek poetry, and the rest are all just about as profitably employed; but, after all your learning, what do you know about your own country? 1 want to know that. This question we knew to be the signal for some long tale of the good old times; and, with different degrees of patience, according to our love for the old white-headed chronicler, we prepared to listen and applaud. Now to my fancy, theres nothing more delightful than to think and talk about the old sons of liberty. But, when I spoke, I was thinking of some pas- sages in your ~randmothers life, and I had rather see an account of her, any day, than all your r~mantic mushroom heroines; so that, if any of you choose to write a novel about her, you shall have all I can tell you. Her father was an Englishman: his name was Vaughan; and he had come over to this country, to bury, in our lonely wilderness, the memory o1 a slighted love and mortified vanity. But he soon found that solitary woods and brooding melancholy were not such lasting pleasures, as the little poetry he knew had led him to suppose; and that, unless he could see around him cheerful farm-houses and a cultivated country, he should soon lose his sentiment and misanthropy. So he changed his place; and, as he thought he hated England too much to return there, he chose Boston for his residence, and soon after a clergymans daughter an American, and not of the Church of Englandfor his wife. The choice was singular, hot a happy one. She was a high-spirited, noble woman, warm in her affections, gentle in her domestic relations, and devoted to her husband; and, as he had many generous qualities, which his dogmatism and self-opinion could not conceal; and as the excellencies of Old Eneland and the duty of implicit ohedi- ence on the part of the colonies afforded abundant room for animated conversa- tion and independent argument, they were as happy a couple as are ordinarily seen in the marriage yoke. But their happiness was not of long continuance; for, after the birth and subsequent death of a fine boy, in whom she had centred too much of her happiness, her health visibly declined, and though she received every attention his devotion could su~gest, so much so, that he even offered to carry her to England to receive better medical advice,yet sorrow had fallen upon her with too sure a blight, and, after giving birth to a daughter, your grand- mother, she died in her husbands arms. Mr. Vaughan had met with the greatest loss which man can suffer in this world, and he felt it bitterly. The idea of resignation, he could not comprehend, and he scorned to be consoled. The world yet offered many sources of enjoy- ment, in the social intercourse or in the indulgence of his benevolent affections, and the political restlessness of the colony, under the restraints of the mother country, would, at any other time, have roused his energies, and kindled anew his love for his native land. But he rejected every alleviation of his grief,he was an unfortunate, a disappointed man; the hand of God had smitten him severely; and his mind brooded upon this idea, and his imagination so hung upon his sufferings, that happiness seemed a inoekery, and submission to his lot an insult to her lie had lost. He proposed to retire frorri scenes that reminded him continually of his lost happiness, and a am to seek in solitude, if not relief, at least freedom from inter- ruption irs his so++ows. As this villa e off red many attractions in its retirement and the wild beauty of its mountain scenery, he had this house built, and soon removed here with his little daughter, whom lie called Lucy, after her mother, and a lady who would at the same time suhierintend her education and the do- mestic economy of his hone. Mrs. i/larston was an En~lish woman, of moderate intellect, ordinary acquisitions, and possessed of an ambition beyond that of pre- serving and renderin6 conspicuous her attachment to the royal family and to the Church of England. Unrler her, little Lucy was placed ; more as a matter of course, that the child should have a female superintendent, than with any re- gard to the development of her mind or the formation of her character; and Mrs. Marston did not trans~ re~.s the bounds of duty prescribed, both by her own ideas of education arid the tacit nl)probation. of Mr. Vaughan. VOL. 71. 15

109 THE TIMES OF OUR GRANDFATHERS. You may talk as much as you please about the march of mind, said the old gentleman, strikinQ his cane against one of the logs, which had just begun to blaze in the lar e chimney, but there are some things about it, which dont suit my ideas of what should be, at all. Here you are, one reading a Waverley novel, another a French play. a third is probably writing Greek poetry, and the rest are all just about as profitably employed; but, after all your learning, what do you know about your own country? 1 want to know that. This question we knew to be the signal for some long tale of the good old times; and, with different degrees of patience, according to our love for the old white-headed chronicler, we prepared to listen and applaud. Now to my fancy, theres nothing more delightful than to think and talk about the old sons of liberty. But, when I spoke, I was thinking of some pas- sages in your ~randmothers life, and I had rather see an account of her, any day, than all your r~mantic mushroom heroines; so that, if any of you choose to write a novel about her, you shall have all I can tell you. Her father was an Englishman: his name was Vaughan; and he had come over to this country, to bury, in our lonely wilderness, the memory o1 a slighted love and mortified vanity. But he soon found that solitary woods and brooding melancholy were not such lasting pleasures, as the little poetry he knew had led him to suppose; and that, unless he could see around him cheerful farm-houses and a cultivated country, he should soon lose his sentiment and misanthropy. So he changed his place; and, as he thought he hated England too much to return there, he chose Boston for his residence, and soon after a clergymans daughter an American, and not of the Church of Englandfor his wife. The choice was singular, hot a happy one. She was a high-spirited, noble woman, warm in her affections, gentle in her domestic relations, and devoted to her husband; and, as he had many generous qualities, which his dogmatism and self-opinion could not conceal; and as the excellencies of Old Eneland and the duty of implicit ohedi- ence on the part of the colonies afforded abundant room for animated conversa- tion and independent argument, they were as happy a couple as are ordinarily seen in the marriage yoke. But their happiness was not of long continuance; for, after the birth and subsequent death of a fine boy, in whom she had centred too much of her happiness, her health visibly declined, and though she received every attention his devotion could su~gest, so much so, that he even offered to carry her to England to receive better medical advice,yet sorrow had fallen upon her with too sure a blight, and, after giving birth to a daughter, your grand- mother, she died in her husbands arms. Mr. Vaughan had met with the greatest loss which man can suffer in this world, and he felt it bitterly. The idea of resignation, he could not comprehend, and he scorned to be consoled. The world yet offered many sources of enjoy- ment, in the social intercourse or in the indulgence of his benevolent affections, and the political restlessness of the colony, under the restraints of the mother country, would, at any other time, have roused his energies, and kindled anew his love for his native land. But he rejected every alleviation of his grief,he was an unfortunate, a disappointed man; the hand of God had smitten him severely; and his mind brooded upon this idea, and his imagination so hung upon his sufferings, that happiness seemed a inoekery, and submission to his lot an insult to her lie had lost. He proposed to retire frorri scenes that reminded him continually of his lost happiness, and a am to seek in solitude, if not relief, at least freedom from inter- ruption irs his so++ows. As this villa e off red many attractions in its retirement and the wild beauty