Skip to main content

Full text of "The Literary record and journal of the Linnaean Association of Pennsylvania College"

See other formats 


THE 


fttcrarn   Hcccri   anb  3ountal 


OF  THE 


LINNiEAN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 


CONDUCTED  BY  A  COMMITTEE   OF  THE   ASSOCIATION. 

l.V 


VOLUME  Hi. 


(S  f  1 1  p  8  b  u  r  fl : 
PRINTED    BY    H.    C.    NEINSTEDT. 

1846-47. 


I/.  3 


VOLUME  III. 


[number  ^ 


LITERARY   RECORD   AND  JOURNAL 

®f  tijc  jCiiuiatrtn  ^Issoriatlon  of  ^Icunspluania  ColUflt. 
NOVEMBER,    1846. 


CONDUCTED 

By  n  CCommittec  oC  the  ^ssocCatfon. 


CONTENTS. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  STORMS,  .  -  -  _ 

EARLY  LITERATURE   OF  THE  GERMANS, 

PHASMA  ROSSIA,  ------ 

ON  READING,  ------- 

ETYMOLOGY,  ._---- 

EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS,  ----- 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  RICHTER. UNWRITTEN  LANGUAGE,  16 

LOOSE   LEAVE.S  FROM  MY  SKETCH-BOOK,  -  -  -    18 

INFLUENCE  OF  LITTLE  THINC^  -  -  -  -         22 

NEW  EXPLOSIVE  PREPARATION. — THE  METEOR,  -  -   23 

PENN.  COLLEGE. TO  THE  READERS  OF  THE  REtORD  &C.       24 


-  G 
9 

-  10 
12 

-  14 


1|   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2i  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


Penn^ijlDania  vdollcgc,  ®cttnciburg,  IJJa. 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 

C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  B.—Pres't  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rcl.,  Ethics,  ^c. 
Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Lavgunge,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 
Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Maikematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechanical  Philos 
Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 
M.  L.  Stoever,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department 
Rev.  Chas.  a.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Literature. 
Herman  Haupt,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Maikematics,  Drawing  and  French. 
David  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  .fJnatomy  and  Physiology. 
John  G.  Morris,  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 
Alexander  M.  Rogers. —  Tutor. 
Abraham  Essick. — Tutor. 

Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  fifteen  yeais.  Dur- 
ing this  time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions of  its  friends.  The  course  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that 
of  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  Tlie  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- 
struction in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition 
to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics  and  Classical  Literature.  The  College  Course 
is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  to 
lequire.  They  attend  three  recitations  a  day,  Church  and  Brble  Class  on  th  Sab- 
bath, and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  danger  (5T 
any  great  irrGgularitios.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice, 
special  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
session,  $63  (>2i:  lor  the  summer  session,  .f  43  12i.  Washing.  .§10  00;  and  Wood, 
.^■3  00.  Total  expense,  $119  75.  Boaidingcan  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  2u  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  ol 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance. 


We  have  taken  tlic  liberty  offending  this  niimijcr  of  the  Journal  to 
a  few  of  our  friend.?,  who  have  not  forwarded  their  names.  We  have 
supposed  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  become  subscribers,  and  would 
be  glad  to  encourage  the  Association  under  whose  auspices  the  Journal 
is  published.  If  such  persons  do  not  desire  it  continued  to  them, 
they  will  be  kind  enough  to  fold  it  up  in  a  wra]ipor,  as  they  received  it, 
with  their  names  on  the  envelop,  and  return  it  to  the  Editors,  jii  ev- 
ery instance  in  which  it  is  not  relumed  the  subsequent  numbcr.s  will  U 
regularly  sent. 


THE  LITERARY 

lift®®  Mim  f  tiiii&s 

OF  THE  LINNiEAN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  lir.  NOVEMBER,  1846.  No.  1. 

PHILOSOPHY    OF    STORMS.     NO.  IV. 
BY    PROF.    WASHINGTON   L.    ATLEE,   M.  D.    PHILADELPHIA,    PA. 

As  I  am  now  approaching  that  part  of  the  subject  whicli  requires  a 
frequent  nsc  of  the  thermometer,  T  will  give  a  general  idea  of  its  con- 
struction in  ortlcr  to  make  all  ac([uainted  with  this  invaluable  little  in- 
strument. It  consists  of  a  glass  tube,  not  often  exceediiig  twelve  inches 
in  length,  of  very  uniform  and  small  bore,  one  end  of  which  is  blown 
into  a  spherical  cavity,  and  the  other  end  hermetically  scaled  after  it  has 
been  partly  filled  with  quicksilver,  artd  all  aqueous  vapor  and  air  have 
been  expelled  by  boiling.  Heat  applied  to  the  spherical  cavity,  or  bulb, 
now  filletl  with  mercury  as  just  stated,  will  cause  the  narrow  column  of 
fluid  within  the  tube,  or  stem,  to  rise,  and  cold  vvill  cause  it  to  fall,  and 
by  means  of  a  scale  attached,  we  are  enabled  to  read  ofl'  the  degrees  of 
variation.  The  scale  used  in  this  country  is  that  proposed  by  Fahren- 
heit, and  is  graduated  into  180°  between  two  fixed  points — called  freez- 
ing and  boiling  points — obtained  Ijy  immersing  the  bulb,  in  melting  ice 
and  in  boiling  water.  The  first  point-is  marked  32°,  the  other  212°,  the 
graduation  being  extended  both  below  and  above  these  numbers  to  a 
certain  extent.  Tliis  instrument  diOers  in  the  object  of  its  construction 
from  the  barometer  already  described — the  former  determining  the  tem- 
perature of  bodies,  the  latter  the  weight  of  air. 

The  deio-poinl  may  be  ascertained,  according  to  the  method  first  in- 
troduced by  M.  Le  Roi,  by  cooling  a  vessel  of  thin  glass  or  metal  until 
moisture  begins  to  settle  on  the  outside,  and  noting  tire  highest  temper- 
ature at  which  the  deposit  takes  place.  In  warm  weather  cold  spring 
water  poured  into  the  vessel  will  cause  the  moisture  to  collect  on  the 
outside.  In  cool  weather  it  will  require  the  addition  of  ice,  or  a  mix- 
ture of  saltpetre  and  sal  ammoniac ;  aiad  in  very  cold  weather,  to  this 
mixture  should  be  added  table  suit  aird  snow  or  pounded  ice.  So  soon 
1 


2  niir.osopiiY  of  storms. 

as  a  deposit  of  moisture  on  llie  glass  is  effected,  immerse  tlie  bulb  of  a 
tliermomeler  in  the  contents  of  the  vessel,  and,  after  wiping  off  the  out- 
side of  the  vessel,  observe  if  the  moisture  again  settles.  Should  it  set- 
tle, wipe  off  again,  and  continue  to  do  so,  until  it  scarcely  collects  any 
more,  being  careful  to  stir  the  solution  with  the  thermometer  during  the 
observation,  so  that  the  vessel,  its  contents,  and  the  bulb  may  acquire 
tlie  same  temperature.  JVuio  observe — the  moment  that  this  thin  film  be- 
gins to  dry^  note  the  degree  of  the  thermometer  in  the  vessel,  and  that  is 
the  temperature  of  the  deto-point.  This  is  the  highest  point  on  the  ther- 
mometric  scale  at  which  moisture  will  settle  at  that  time,  and  it  may 
always  be  anticipated  by  the  thin  film  of  moisture  on  the  vessel  assum"- 
ing  all  .the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  The  temperature  of  the  dew-point 
never  can  exceed  that  of  the  air ;  sometimes  it  is  as  high,  as  when  the 
air  is  .saturated  with  moisture,  and  during  rain  ;  but  generally  it  is  lower 
and  always  diminishes  in  proportion  to  the  dryness  of  the  air. 

This  method  of  taking  the  dew-point  is  susceptible  of  great  preci- 
sion. I  will  observe,  however,  that  it  may  be  obtained  indirectly  by 
two  thermometers  as  follows  : — cover  the  bulb  of  one  thermometer  with 
a  wet  rag-,  then  swing  both  briskly  in  the  air  until  they  become  station- 
ary ;  note  the  difference,  multiphj  this  by  103,  and  divide  the  product  by 
the  ivet-bulh  temperature,  subtract  tlie  quotient  from  the  dry-bulb  temper- 
ature, and  the  remainder  icill  be  the  dew-point.     Thus  : — 

Dry  hull).     Wet-bulb.  Wet-bulb.  Thry-bulb.    Dew-point. 

70°_64°=6°x  103=  6 18° -^64°  ^O.^-SG— 70°=  60.°344. 

This  method  will  answer  when  the  wet-bulb  temperature  ranges  be- 
tween 20°  and  7o°. 

My  next  object  'will  be  to  explain  the  method  of  ascertaining  the 
temperature  and  elevation  of  forming-cloud.  As  the  temperature  of 
the  dew-point  is  the  only  point  at  which  vapor  loses  its  gaseous  form, 
and  as  cloud  is  only  vapor  condensed,  it  follows  that  allowing  for  ele- 
vation, the  temperature  of  the  detr-point  and  that  of  forming-cloud  must 
always  be  the  same.  Assuming  the  dew-point  at  the  earth's  surface  to  be 
60",  and  the  temperature  of  the  air  70°,  the  temperature  of  the  forming- 
cloud,  at  its  base,  will,  in  consequence  of  its  height,  as  I  will  soon 
.show,  be  57.°5.  Now  as  respects  the  height  of  the  base  of  the  cloud. 
This  can  also  be  ascertained  by  the  thermometer,  as  correctly  perhaps 
as  by  the  sextant.  I  have  already  stated  that  in  ascending  into  the  at- 
rnos])here  the  temperature  diminishes  at  the  rate  of  one  degree  for  about 
every  3-')2  feet.  It  appears,  however,  from  experiments,  at  least  for  small 
elevations,  that  when  air  ascends,  it  becomes  colder  about  1^°  for  every 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  STORMS,  6 

100  yards ;  and  that  the  dew-point  falls  about  one  quarter  of  a  degree, 
on  account  of  the  greater  space  occupied  by  the  air  and  vapor,  for'  ev- 
ery hundred  yards  of  ascent.  Now  suppose  the  temperature  of  the  air 
upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  to  be  70°,  the  dew-point  being  60°,  there 
will  then  be  a  difl'erence  of  10°  between  the  temperature  of  the  dew- 
point  and  that  of  the  air.  This  difFerence  is  called  the  complement  nf 
the  deiD-point.  The  temperature  of  an  ascending  column  of  air,  there- 
fore, cooling  11°  for  every  300  feet  of  its  ascent,  and  the  dew-point  fall- 
ing one  quarter  of  a  degree  under  the  same  circumstances,  it  follows 
that  one  degree  is  equivalent  to  every  hundred  yards,  and  that  such  a 
column  will  begin  to  form  cloud  when  it  rises  about  as  many  times  300 
feet  as  there  are  degrees  in  the  complement  of  the  dew-point.  Now 
the  complement  of  the  dew-point  at  the  surface  of  the  earth  being 
10°,  the  ascending  column  of  air,  after  it  has  gone  up  3000  feet, 
will  have  cooled  12|°,  and  will  thereby  be  reduced  to  57^",  or  the 
estimated  dew-point  at  that  elevation.  At  this  temperature  and  height, 
vapors  cannot  at  this  time  exist  in  a  gaseous  form  in  the  air,  and, 
therefore,  must  be  condensed  into  cloud.  Hence  the  height  of  the 
base  of  a  cloud,  forming  under  these  circumstances,  must  be  3000  feet, 
and  its  temperature  57|°.  That  this  calculation  is  correct,  has  been 
proved  by  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  Philadelphia,  who  instituted  a  se- 
ries of  expeiiments  for  this  and  other  purposes.  They  raised  kites  ten 
feet  in  diameter,  and  attached  them  to  wires  three  miles  long,  wound 
upon  a  reel.  While  the  kites  were  hovering  in  the  base  of  a  cloud  their 
height  was  taken  by  one  set  of  men  by  means  of  the  sextant,  while  an- 
other set  took  the  height  of  the  base  of  the  cloud  with  the  thermome- 
ter. The  results  of  both  observations  were  put  down  separately,  and, 
when  compared,  were  found  to  agree,  far  within  the  limits  of  the  errors 
of  observation.  It  may,  therefore,  be  considered  as  established  that  the 
difference  between  the  temperature  of  the  de7c-])oint,  and  that  of  the  air, 
(the  complement  of  the  deic-point,)  multiplied  hy  300  will  always  give 
the  height^  in  fcet^  of  the  base  of  a  cloud. 

In  accordance  with  my  promise  in  the  last  number,  I  will  now  ex- 
plain the  manner  of  calculating  the  quantity  of  vapor  in  a  given  amount 
of  air,  although  it  will  considerably  lengthen  this  communication.  This 
discovery  was  made  almost  simultaneously  by  Dalton  and  Gay  Lussac, 
and  afterwards  was  more  fully  investigated  by  Dulong  and  Petit.  I  may 
here  pause  to  observe  that  the  principles,  upon  which  Professor  Espy 
establishes  his  theory,  were  discovered  by  other  philosophers  without 
any  reference,  even  the  most  remote,  to  their  bearing  upon  storms,  and 
that  he  is  merely  applying  them  to  the  explanation  of  certain  natural 


4  PlIILOSOrilY  OF  STORMS. 

phenomena,  whose  operations,  as  well  as  llie  laws  upon  which  they  are 
founded,  were  not,  until  recently,  revealed  to  man.  This  circumstance 
certainly  gives  peculiar  force  and  character  to  his  theory,  as  it  indicates 
a  spirit  of  inquiry  purely  inductive.  The  experiments  of  Dalton  prove 
that  heat  is  the  true  and  only  cause  of  the  formation  of  vapor.  He 
found  that  the  actual  quantity  of  vapor,  which  can  exist  in  a  given 
space,  is  dependent  solely  upon  the  temperature.  This  is  a  most  beau- 
tiful circumstance,  that  the  thermometer,  which  was  invented  merely  for 
ascertaining  the  relative  quantity  of  caloric  in  bodies,  should  now  like- 
wise be  employed,  not  only  in  estimating  the  height  of  clouds,  but  in 
determining  the  absolute  quantity  of  vapor  in  the  air !  As  the  quan- 
tity of  vapor  is  always  proportionate  to  the  temperature,  so  if  we  have 
a  low  or  high  dew-point  we  have  a  small  or  larger  quantity  of  vapor. 
When  the  dew-point  is  given,  therefore,  we  can  always  ascertain  the  ex- 
act amount  of  vapor.  In  order,  however,  to  understand  this  part  of 
the  subject,  it  will  be  necessary  first  to  refer  to  several  propositions : 

1.  All  gases  expand  alike  for  equal  increments  of  heat ;  and  all  va- 
pors, when  remote  from  their  condensing  points,  follow  the  same  law. 

2.  The  rate  of  expansion  is  uniform  for  all  degrees  of  heat. 

3.  The  rate  of  expansion  is  not  altered  by  a  change  in  the  state  of 
compression,  or  elastic  force  of  the  gas  itself 

4.  The  actual  amount  of  expansion  is  equal  to  j|^th  part  of  the 
volume  of  the  gas  at  0°,  for  each  degree  of  the  same  scale. 

Now  to  discover  how  much  the  volume  of  a  gas  or  vapor  would 
be  increased  or  diminished  by  a  particular  change  of  temperature,  let  it 
be  required,  for  example,  to  find  tlie  volume  which  100  cubic  inches  of 
gas  at  C0°  would  become  on  the  temperature  rising  at  70°, 

The  rate  of  expansion  is  ^J  jlh  part  of  the  volume  at  0°  for  each 
degree;  or  460  measures  at  0°  become  461  at  1°,  462  at  2%  460+60^= 
520  at  60°,  and  460+70=  530  at  70°.     Hence 

Metis,  at  60=  Mcas.  at  70'  Mcas.  at  60"  Meas.  at  70° 

520  :  530  : :  100  :  101.92 

Again : — If  a  barometer-tube  filled  with  mercury  be  inverted,  and  a 
few  drops  of  water  be  passed  up  the  tube  into  the  vacuum  above,  the 
mercury  will  be  depressed  to  a  small  extent,  and  this  depression  will 
increase  with  the  increase  of  temperature.  This  depression  depends 
upon  the  vapor  which  instantaneously  rises  from  the  water  into  the 
vacuum.  Now  the  same  power  which  forces  the  mercurial  column 
doW7i  one  inch  against  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  outside  the  tube 
wuuld  of  course  clcvalc  the  column  to  the  same  height  against  a  vacu- 


PIIlLOSOniY  OF  STOKMS.  O 

urn,  and  in  this  way  tlic  tension  may  be  very  conveniently  expressed. 
Dalton,  to  whom  we  owe  this  method  of  investigation,  has  constructed 
a  table  exhibiting  this  clastic  force  of  vapor,  and  which  may  be  found 
in  any  of  the  recent  works  on  chenii:jtry.  Tiie  following  arc  a  few  of 
the  results  : — 


Temperature. 

32° 

Tendon  in  inches 
of  Mcnurij, 

0.200 

Tewperattire, 

70° 

Tension  in  inthea 
of  mercury. 

0.721 

40° 

.263 

80° 

1.000 

50° 

.375 

80° 

1-360 

60* 

.524 

212° 

30.000 

Again : — The  point  of  maximum  density  of  a  vapor  is  dependent 
upon  the  temperature ;  it  increases  rapidly  as  the  temperature  rises. — 
Tlius,  taking  the  specific  gravity  of  atmospheric  air,  at  212°  =  1000, 
that  of  aqueous  vapor  in  its  greatest  possible  slate  of  compression  for 
the  temperature  will  be  as  follows  :  ' 


Tempo-nlurc. 

32° 

specific  Oraiily. 

5.690 

Weight  ^  100  nihir  ini:hei. 

.136  grains 

50° 

10.293 

.247 

60° 

14.108 

.338 

100° 

46.500 

1.113 

150° 

170.293 

4.076 

212° 

625.000 

14.962 

Evaporation  into  a  space  filled  with  air  or  gas  follows  the  same  law 
as  evaporation  into  a  vacuum  ;  as  much  vapor  rises,  and  the  condition 
of  maximum  density  is  assumed  in  the  same  manner  as  if  the  space 
were  perfectly  empty. 

Now  let  us  apply  the  foregoing  principles  to  determine  the  quantity 
of  aqueous  vapor  in  the  air : 

Suppose  the  temperature  of  the  air  to  be  70°,  and  that  of  the  dew- 
point  60°,  as  we  have  assumed  above ;  the  elasticity  of  the  watery  va- 
porj  would  correspond  to  a  maximum  density  proper  to  60°,  and  would 
support  a  column  of  mercury  .521  inch  high.  Therefore,  if  the  ba- 
rometer on  the  spot  stood  at  30  inch,  29.476  inches  would  be  supported 
by  the  pressure  of  the  dry  air,  and  the  remaining  .524  inch  by  the  va- 
por. Now  a  cubic  foot,  or  1728  cubic  inches  of  vapor  at  70'^  would 
become  reduced  by  contraction,  according  to  the  above  law,  to  1695.4 
cubic  niches  at  60°.     Thus  : 

Mcas.  at  70°  Mcas.  at  UO"  Mens,  at  'S"  Menu,  at  60' 

530  -520  r;  1728  1695.4 


/' 


O  EARLY  LITERATURE  OF  THE   GERMANS. 

This  vapor  would  be  at  its  maximum  density,  having  the  specific 
gravity  14.108,  pointed  out  in  the  table  above.  Hence  1695.4  cubic  in- 
ches would  weigh  5.73  grains.     Thus  : 

Measures.  Grains,  Weasures.  Grains. 

100         ;         0.338        ::        1695.4         ;         5.73 

The  weight  of  the  aqeou-s  vapor  contained  in  a  cubic  foot  of  air  at 
any  temperature  will  thus  be  ascertained. 

By  such  caflculation  it  is  found  that  if  the  temperature  of  the  dew- 
point  be  32°,  the  quantity  of  vapor  will  be  ^{i^th  of  the  whole  weight 
of  the  air.  If  52°,  it  will  be  just  double,  or  -Yl^th. ;  if  73°,  it  will  be 
double  again,  or  c'„th;  and  at  the  dew-point  above  assumed,  or  60",  it 
will  be  j'jst  of  the  weight  of  the  air.  These  tables  not  only  furnish 
us  with  the  means  of  ascertaining  the  quantity  of  vapor,  but  also  its 
tension  or  elasticity,  or,  in  more  common  phrase,  its  steam  power.  All 
vapor,  existing  in  the  air  in  a  gaseous  state,  is  steam,  and  the  phenom- 
ena of  a  storm  are  intimately  connected  with  this  steam  power,  which, 
varying  from  day  ^  day,  continue.^  to  rise  until  it  is  discharged  in  the 
form  of  rain.  Thus  a  dew-point  of  32"  indicates  an  elastic  force  of 
0.200 ;  one  of  52",  a  force  of  0.401 ;  of  73",  0.796;  and  our  dew-point 
60",  a  force  of  0.524.  So  that  we  are  enabled  to  calculate  the  force  of  a 
storm  in  the  same  way  that  we  estimate  the  power  of  a  locomotive  en- 
gine. These  results,  so  easily  obtained  through  that  admirable  little  in- 
strument, the  thermometer,  are  considered  by  Professor  Espy  as  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  his  theory. 


EARLY  LITERATURE  OF  THE  GERMANS. 

THE  UNLIKE  CHILDREN  OF  EVE. 

BY  rnnr.  h.  i.  smith,  a.  m.  of  hap.twick  seminary,  n.  y. 

Among  the  co»itemporaries  of  Luther,  and  holding  high  raiTk  among 
the  Master-singers,  was  Hans  3achs,  the  shoemaker  of  Nuremberg,  who 
was  born  A.  D.  1494,  and  died  1576.  I  have,  on  one  of  my  shelves,  a 
volume  of  his  minor  productions,  and  I  esteeem  him  one  of  my  pleas- 
antest  acquaintances  among  the  earlier  poets  and  writers  of  Germany.^ 
Goethe,  who  thoroughly  appreciated  his  poetical  merits,  most  earnestly 
called  the  reverent  attention  of  his  countrymen,  to  their  ail-but  forgot- 
ten, burgher-poet  and  moralist.  His  character  is  one  that  wins  the  re- 
spect and  admiration  of  all :  his  life  was  one  of  unwearied  and  most  hon- 
orable activity,  devoted  to  the  beautiful,  as  well  as  the  useful — employ- 
ed in  promoting  the  important  interests,  and  the  lighter,  but  innocent 
enjoyments  of  his  fellow-men.     Ho  was  a  mv>:i  devoted  friend  of  Luther 


EARLY  I.TTF.RATTTRF.   OF   THF.   CFRMAXS.  7 

and  the  Reformation,  and  rendered  the  great  canse  of  trnlli  and  piety  no 
small  service  in  his  native  land.  In  his  character  were  united  an  unbend- 
ing integrity  and  a  straight-forward  frankness  and  sincerity,  with  the 
most  beautiful  and  unassuming  simplicity:  a  healthy  philanthropy,  a. 
genuine  brotherly  love,  with  an  unaffected  cheerfulness,  and  a  rich  vein 
of  artless  humor,  that  never  forgot  the  respect  due  to  tltc  true  and  the  good. 

Among  his  numerous  writings,  that  of  which  the  title  stands  at  the 
head  of  this  article,  is  strongly  illustrative  of  the  simplicity,  and  artless 
naivete  of  his  own  character.  The  subject  seems  to  have  been  a  favor- 
ite one  with  him,  for  he  treated  it,  no  less  than  three  several  times,  in 
as  many  different  ways  :  first  in  1553,  in  the  moral  drama  :  "How  the 
Lord  blesses  Eve's  children  :  "  next  in  1553  in  "  the  comedy  of  the  un- 
like children  of  Eve,"  and  lastly,  in  1558  in  "  the  Amusing  History  of 
the  unlike  children  of  Eve."  His  manner  of  treating  this  ancient  myth 
is,  in  every  instance,  happy — but  most  so  in  the  History  last  mentioned. — 
He  returned  to  it  again  and  again,  evidently  desiring  to  give  it  a  form  as 
perfect  as  possible.  Let  none  of  my  readers  be  oflended  at  this  mode 
of  treating  such  a  subject.  Let  them  remember  that  we  speak  of  the 
age  of  "Moralities,"  of  dramatic  representations  based  upon  Scripture- 
histories  :  let  them  remember  that  the  design  of  tliis  "  History  "  is  a 
serious  one,  viz.  to  teach,  that  God  is  the  Author  of  the  distinctions  in 
human  society,  and  none  will  be  either  offended,  or  excited  to  ridiciile, 
who  can  bring  to  the  contemplation  of  this  graphic  picture,  the  pure  and 
exalted,  and  reverent  simplicity,  with  which  the  artist  drew  it.  The  fol- 
lowing is  a  translation  of  the  "  Amusing  History. " 

"When  Adam  and  Eve  had  been  expelled  from  Paradise,  they  culti- 
vated the  earth,  which  no  longer  brought  forth  spontaneously  ;  and  they 
had  a  great  number  of  children.  After  a  long  time  the  Almighty  God 
sent  them  word,  by  an  angel,  that  he  intended  to  visit  them,  and  to  in- 
spect their  domestic  arrangements.  Then  Eve  was  glad  of  God's  good- 
ness towards  them ;  she  swept  her  whole  house,  adorned  it  with  green 
herbs  and  flowers,  and  began  to  wash  and  comb  her  handsomest  chil- 
dren, and  to  plait  their  hair;  she  clothed  them  in  newly-washed  raiment 
exhorted  and  taught  them  how  they  should  bow  politely,  to  the  Lord, 
on  his  arrival,  offer  him  their  hands,  and  conduct  themselves  with  pro- 
priety. Her  ugly  children,  on  the  contrary,  she  concealed  under  the 
straw  and  hay,  or  in  the  oven,  fearing  lest  the  Lord  should  express  dis- 
pleasure at  sight  of  them.  When  now  the  Lord  entered  her  abode,  tlie 
comely  children  all  stood  in  a  row  to  receive  him,  bowed  respectfully, 
offered  him  their  hands,  and  knelt  down  before  him.  But  the  Lord  be- 
gan to  bless  them,  and  laid  his  hands  on  the  first  boy's  head,  saying ; — 


8  EART.Y  I.ITEUATTrr.E  OF   THE   GERMANS. 

''Thou  shall  become  a  mighty  king  :"  tt)  the  second  he  said  :  "Thou  shalt 
become  a  prince  ;"  to  the  third  :  "Thou  a  count ;  '*  to  the  fourth  :  "Thou 
a  knight-,"  to  the  fifth  :  "Thou  a  nobleman  ;"  to  the  sixth:  "Thou  a 
burgher;  "  to  the  seventh  :  "  Be  thou  a  merchant ;"  to  the  eighth  :  "Do 
ihou  become  a  learned  doctor!"  Thus  he  gave  to  all  of  them  a  copi- 
ous blessing.  But  when  Eve  saw  this,  and  considered  the  gracious  kind- 
ness of  the  Lord,  she  thought  within  herself:  "I  will  fetch  also  my  ugly 
children,  that  God  may  have  compassion  on  them  ;"  she  hastened,  there- 
fore, and  dragged  them  forth  from  under  the  hay,  from  the  manger  and 
the  oven,  and  brought  them  into  the  presence  of  God,  an  unseemly,  un- 
combed, scabby,  sooty,  rude  and  awkward  rabble.  Tlien  the  Lord 
smiled,  looked  at  them  all,  and  said  :  "I  will  bless  them  also ;"  laying 
his  hands  on  the  first ;  he  spake  :  "Thou  shalt  become  a  farmer  ;"  to  the 
second  he  said  :  "  Thou  shalt  become  a  fisherman  ;  "  to  the  third  :  "Be  a 
smith  ;"  to  the  fourth  :  "Be  a  tanner;"  to  the  fifth  :  "  a  weaver  ;"  to  the 
sixth  :  "a  shoemaker  ;  "  to  the  seventh  :  "a  tailor ; "  to  the  eighth  :  "  a 
potter;"  to  the  ninth  :  "a  teamster;"  to  the  tenth  :  "a  seaman  ;"  to  the 
eleventh:  a  news-carrier;"  to  the  twelfth:  "thou  shalt  remain  a  scul- 
lion as  long  as  thou  livest."  When  Eve  heard  all  this,  she  said  :  "Lord 
how  unequally  dost  thou  distribute  thy  blessings !  Surely  these  are  all 
alike  my  ciiildren,  and  thy  favor  should  be  extended,  in  like  manner,  to 
all.*"  Then  the  Lord  replied  :  "  Eve,  this  is  a  matter  which  thou  dost 
not  understand.  It  is  my  concern,  and  a  most  important  one,  to  take 
care  of  the  interests  of  all  the  world  through  thy  children;  if  thfey 
should  all  be  princes  and  gentlemen,  who  would  cultivate  grain,  and 
thresh,  and  grind,  and  bake;  who  would  work  in  iron,  or  at  the  loom; 
who  would  wield  the  axe,  and  build  houses;  who  would  dig;  who 
would  cut,  and  sew  ^  Each  one  shall  follow  his  own  appropriate  occu- 
pation, that  each  may  contribute  to  the  support  of  the  other,  and  all 
be  maintained,  like  the  members  of  one  body."  Then  answered  dame 
Eve  :  "O  Lord,  forgive  !  I  M-as  too  hasty  in  obtruding  my  advice  upon 
tliee  :  may  thy  divine  will  be  done,  as  regards  my  children  !" 

ITow  exquisite  is  the  naivcU'  with  which  this  peoplc's-poet  thus  sets 
forth  the  origin  of  distinctions  in  human  society.  In  the  moral  drama, 
as  well  as  in  the  comedy,  both  mentioned  before,  there  is,  of  course,  a 
great  deal  more  of  minute  detail,  and  various  delectable  passages  occur, 
which  want  of  room  forbids  me  to  transfer  to  these  pages. 

1  have  before  spoken  of  this  "  History  "  as  Hans  Sachs'  Version  of 
an  ancient  myth.  He  is  fond  of  authenticating  such  narratives,  by  re- 
ferring to  some  distinguished  authority.  In  the  introduction  to  Ihc 
"Comedy,"  the  herald  is  made  to  say  of  it : 


PIIASMA  ROSSIA,  » 

"  Originally  it  was  writ 
In  Latin  by  Philip  Melanchthon, 
And  now  for  common  folk's  benefit, 
Into  German  speech  'tis  also  done. " 

And  at  the  head  of  "the  History"  just  given,  he  again  says  : 

"  The  Scoilards  years  ago  did  indite 
A  poem  beauteous  and  erudite." 

But,  of  course,  Melanchthon  is  by  no  means  the  author  of  this  le- 
gend. He  relates  it  to  the  count  Joannes  a  Weda,  in  a  letter  of  March 
23d,  1539;  in  which  he  says:  "facere  non  potui,  quin  adjicerem  nar- 
ratiunculam,  quae  in  quodam  poemate  extat,  non  illam  quidem  histori- 
cam,  sed  venustam  et  erudite  confiictam,  admonendae  adolescentiae  cau- 
sa, ut  cogitet  et  discrimina  ordinum  divinitus  instituta  esse,  et  unicuique 
laborandum  esse,  ut  virtule  suam  personam  tueatur." 

Malanchthon's  "harratiuncula  "  supplies  some  exquisite  additional 
details,  which  I  cannot  add  in  the  present  article.  From  the  cxpre.-^sion  : 
"Erudite  confictam,"  we  may  infer,  that  the  poem  of  which  Melanch- 
thon speaks,  was  written  in  Latin.  And  at  all  events,  his  letter  proves 
that  Hans  Sachs  only  worked  up,  in  his  charmingly  simple  style,  mate- 
rials which  he  found  in  a  popular  myth  already  extant. 


Notice  of  the  appearance  of  a  great  numher  of  hisects  of  the  ge- 
nus Phasma  in  the  neighborhood  of  Reading,  Pa.,  by  J.  P. 
Hiester,  M.  D. 

Having  had  occasion  to  visit  Oley  in  the  latter  part  of  September,  I 
observed,  at  a  great  distance,  the  forest  on  the  Monocasy  hills,  which 
form  the  Eastern  boundary  of  the  valley,  to  be  stripped  of  its  leaves, 
and  to  have  a  peculiar  brown  appearance.  On  inquiry  I  was  told  that 
within  a  month,  or  six  weeks,  myriads  of  strange  insects  had  suddenly 
made  their  appearance,  and  were  voraciously  devouring  all  the  leaves 
of  the  forest  trees.  J  had  learned  a  few  days  previously,  that  some 
insect  was  committing  great  ravages  on  the  forest  trees  at  the  distance 
of  twenty-four  miles  in  an  opposite  direction.  Individuals  from  both 
localities  being  procured,  were  found  to  be  the  same  insect.  It  is  be- 
yond doubt  a  Phasma  and  I  think  the  Phasma  Rossia.  The  body  is 
about  three  inches  long,  varying  from  a  light  yellowish  green  to  a  dark 
cinerinus  brown,  and  is  often  of  a  beautiful  cane  color  with  darker 
spats,  particularly  on  the  thighs.  The  female  is  about  as  thick  as  a 
small  goose-quill,  and  the  male  rather  less  than  half  that  thickness. — 


10  eW  READING. 

The  abdomen  is  nine-jointed.  The  thighs  and  legs  are  straight,  with 
the  striae  relrossely  and  stiffly  hairy.  The  tarsa?  are  5 — 6  jointed,  hairy 
and  terminate  in  two  recurved  claws.  There  is  a  tooth  near  the  lower 
end  of  the  thigh,  which  is  more  conspicuous  in  the  male.  The  ante- 
nnae are  very  long,  (nearly  as  long  as  the  body)  tapering  to  a  point, 
jointed  and  sparsely  hairy.  The  eggs  are  ovoid,  about  a  line  and  a  half 
in  length,  and  of  a  shining  black  color,  except  on  one  side,  where  they 
are  whitish,  and  in  this  a  lengthened  hilune  is  exactly  represented.  On 
one  of  the  ends  also  there  is  a  whitish  alveolar  spot.  They  strikingly 
resemble  the  seeds  of  some  leguminous  plants.  Their  six  long  legs 
enable  tliese  insects  to  move  with  considerable  celerity  :  when  they  are  at 
rest,  they  place  their  antennae  directly  forwards  and  close  to  each  other. 
They  feed  voraciously  in  day-time,  and  with  a  distinct  noise.  They 
seem  to  prefer  the  leaves  of  tlie  chesnut-oak  and  the  chesnut  tree,  feed 
upon  the  parenchyma  and  leave  the  nerves,  which  gives  the  forest  the 
peculiar  brown  appearance,  when  viewed  at  a  distance,  already  referred 
to.  As  they  do  not  attack  the  leaf-buds,  and  the  season  being  far  advan- 
ced, there  is  reason  to  hope  that  the  forests  will  sustain  no  great  injury. 
I  much  regret  that  their  distance  from  Reading  has  prevented  me  from 
investigating  their  habits  more  fully.  My  friend  Dr.  Bischoft'  opened 
some  females  and  found  them  to  contain  about  thirty  eggs  in  various 
states  of  maturity,  as  well  as  the  absence  of  all  glutinous  matter,  and 
the  insects  wanting  the  ovipositor,  would  serve  to  indicate  that  the  eggs 
are  dropped  upon  the  ground.  If  I  am  right  in  my  opinion  that  this  is 
the  Phasma  Rossia,  the  description  of  the  insect  in  Cuvier's  Regne  An- 
imal, (Livraison  215,  page  14,)  has  several  inaccuracies  :  "Sans  ailes 
dans  les  deux  sexes,  vertjaunitre,  ou  d'un  brun  cendre  ;  antennes  tres 
courtes,  grenucs  et  coniques ;  pieds  ayant  des  aretes  ;  ime  dent  pres  de 
I'extremite  des  cuisses."  Both  my  friends  Dr.  Bischoft'  and  Mr.  Kess- 
ler  have  found  specimens  of  the  insect  as  long  ago  as  ten  or  twelve 
years,  but  they  have  never  seen  them  in  such  numbers.  Accompanying 
this  account  I  send  you  several  specimens,  for  the  Museum  of  the  Lin- 
na^an  Society. 

Reading,  i?a.  October  15,  1846. 


ON  READING.       NO.   I. 

Neither  is  any  part  of  time  more  put  to  the  account  of  idleness,  one  can  scarce 
forbear  saying,  is  spent  with  less  thought,  than  great  part  of  that  which  is  spent  in 
reading.  "  Bishop  Butler.     Preface  to  Sennojis. 

All  the  objects  which  men  have  in  view  in  reading  the  writings  of 


ON  READING.  11 

others  may  be  summed  up  as  follows :  Tlie  improvement  of  style  or 
the  cultivation  of  taste  ;  the  acquisition  of  information,  or  the  gratifica- 
tion of  cuiiosity ;  the  securing  of  mental  discipline  or  moral  improve- 
ment; amusement  or  relaxation.  One  of  these  is  before  us,  or  two  or 
more  combine  to  influence  us,  whenever  we  begin  the  perusal  of  any 
publication.  Tt  is  probable  that  the  majority  of  men  are  influenced  by 
the  desire  of  acquiring  information,  or  of  amusement ;  and  we  should 
not  err  greatly  in  supposing  that  a  very  large  proportion  read  for  amuse- 
ment simply;  to  while  away  what  might  otherwise  be  a  tedious  hour,  or 
to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  an  appetite  for  the  strange,  the  terrible,  and 
the  exciting.  Such  men  eagerly  seize  on  works  which  minister  to  this 
appetite,  every  indulgence  of  whicli  but  serves  to  strengthen  its  demands. 
They  are  as  much  the  charmed  victims  of  a  depraved  passion,  as  the 
poor  drunkard  who  seeks  his  pleasme  in  the  excitement  of  intoxicating 
drink.  And  as  there  are  not  wanting  at  every  turn  those  who  will  fur- 
nish the  burning  draught  to  the  crazed  inebriate,  so  there  are  those  in 
great  numbers  who  are  ready  to  furnish  the  cup  of  poisoned  literature 
to  this  craving  appetite.  These  victims  are  found  in  every  class,  of  ev- 
ery age  and  grade ;  from  the  young  lady  who  languishes  over  the  last 
new  romance,  or  the  school  boy  whose  eyes  dilate  over  the  "Pirate's 
Own  Book,"  or  some  other  equally  sage  and  moral  record,  to  the  wrin- 
kled dame  who,  "with  spectacles  on  nose,"  in  her  chimney  corner,  de- 
vours the  weekly  chronicle  of  dreadful  accidents,  awful  catastrophes, 
and  horrid  murders.  Doubtless,  in  this  case,  the  appetite  and  the  sup- 
ply are,  each  in  its  turn,  both  cause  and  effect.  Tire  one  encourages 
the  other,  and  the  other  reciprocates  the  encouragement.  It  is  some- 
what singular  that  the  complaint  should  have  been  made  some  hundred 
and  twenty  years  ago  by  the  vvise  man,  whose  words  are  quoted  at  the 
head  of  this  article  :  "The  great  number  of  books  and  papers  of  amuse- 
ment, which,  of  one  kind  or  another,  daily  come  in  one's  way,  have  in 
part  occasioned,  and  must  perfectly  fall  in  with  and  humor,  this  idle 
way  of  reading  and  considering  things,"  Had  he  lived  in  our  day,  his 
complaint  might  have  been  more  bitter.  Not  only  do  volumes  issue  in 
thousands  from  the  press,  and  at  prices  so  low  as  by  their  very  cheap- 
ness to  tempt  a  purchaser,  but  quarterly  and  niontiily  magazines,  in  great 
numbers  circulate  through  tiie  land,  while  weekly  and  daily  papers  are 
multiplied  almost  beyond  computation.  All  branches  of  science,  every 
department  of  literature,  every  variety  of  taste,  linds  among  these  its  or- 
gan and  minister.  The  man  of  science,  the  scholar,  the  politician,  the 
merchant,  the  mechanic,  the  farmer,  the  jurist,  the  physician,  the  theo- 
logian, the  sectarian,  the  transccndentalist,  and  the  sa?is-cu/oi/f,  each  has 


12  ETYMOLOGY. 

his  magazine  or  paper ;  while  "  The  Ladies*  Book, "  or  "  The  Mirror  " 
graces  the  parlor,  and  "  The  Mother's  Magazine  "  finds  its  way  to  the 
nursery.  Children,  too,  are  not  neglected,  but  have  either  their  "  cor- 
ner" in  some  larger  periodical,  or  find  their  "organ"  in  the  "Youth's 
Companion,"  or  "Scholar's  Magazine."  A  device  which  appeared  some 
time  since  at  the  head  of  an  advertisement  in  one  of  our  daily  papers, 
may  be  considered  fitly  emblematical  of  one  of  the  leading  features  of 
our  age  and  perhaps  of  our  Country.  It  represented  a  locomotive  en- 
gine, apparently  under  a  full  head  of  steam,  and  throwing  off  number- 
less printed  cards  in  all  directions.  Suppose  those  cards  to  be  books, 
or  pamphlets,  or  papers,  and  the  device  illustrates  the  publishing  feature 
of  our  age.  A  large  portion  of  this  countless  issue,  undoubtedly,  is 
good  seed,  and  when  good  fruit  fails  to  grow  from  it,  the  fault  is  to  be 
found  in  the  soil  on  which  it  falls,  or  other  controlhng  influence.  But 
much,  it  is  to  be  feared,  is  tares  and  cockle,  and  many  a  Upas  grain  is 
thrown  into  some  rank  soil,  and  gives  forth  a  rapid  noxious  growth. 

We  would  be  far  indeed  from  laying  the  least  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  the  widest  diffusion  of  knowledge.  But  it  seems  evident  that  this 
great  amount  of  publications  of  all  sorts,  especially  when  we  consider 
the  character  of  a  large  portion  of  them,  has  a  tendency  to  engender 
false  taste,  and  make  superficial  readers  rather  than  men  of  sound  intel- 
ligence and  reflection.  To  the  temptation  held  out,  is  to  be  attributed 
much  waste  of  mind  and  time,  and  the  formation  of  pernicious  habits, 
both  mental  and  moral.  Amusement,  in  too  many  cases,  becomes  the 
object  of  the  reader — or  extent  of  surface  in  the  domains  of  knowledge 
is  sought  for,  rather  than  depth  and  excellence  of  soil.  Men  make  haste 
to  be  wise,  and  fail  of  wisdom :  proving  by  facts  that  the  labor  saving 
process,  so  admirable  when  applied  to  material  products  will  not  an- 
swer for  the  mind.  Men  may  cram  the  whole  circle  of  sciences  into  a 
duodecimo,  manufacture  linguists  by  a  ds)zen  "lessons  of  one  hour  each" 
teach  theology  in  primeis,  and  convey  in  a  few  lectures  to  listening  and 
intelligent  thousands,  the  principles  of  law  and  government ;  but  after 
all,  in  the  hour  of  need,  their  scientific  men,  their  linguists,  and  theolo- 
gians, and  statesmen  will  be  found  wanting.  It  is  as  true  now,  as  it  was 
two  thousand  years  ago,  that  there  is  no  short  road  to  knowledge,  and 
"  with  many  a  tiial  is  excellence  attained. " 


ETYMOLOGY. 

One  of  the  most   profitable  exercises  in    which  the  student  of  lan- 
guage can  engage,  is  the  etymological  investigation  of  words.     By  this 


ETYMOLOGY.  13 

is  meant  the  tracing  of.  words  from  their  roots  through  all  the  various 
ramifications  into  which  accident  caprice  or  convenience  has  distributed 
them.  This  exercise  is  both  interesting  and  profitable  and  furnishes  at 
the  same  time  a  fund  of  information,  whilst  the  imagination  may  be 
highly  gratified.  Here  the  mind  becomes  enlarged,  its  love  of  order 
and  system  is  gratified  and  its  judgment  strengthened. 

Take  as  an  illustration  of  one  form,  the  word  5r/A«$  the  primitive 
I  signification  is  hair  or  icool  thrown  into  the  form  of  cloth,  with  which 
tlie  ancient  Greeks  lined  their  helmets.  Then  they  discovered  that  they 
could  wear  the  lining  of  the  helmet  without  the  brass,  and  the  word  was 
applied  to  a  woolen  or  hair  cap.  When  the  people  of  Athens  however 
became  very  refined  and  luxurious,  they  applied  the  term  only  to  the 
caps  of  the  poorer  classes.  .After  tlie  word  was  used  to  denote  a  cap, 
it  signified  with  the  qualifying  adjective  XxXKovi  a  hemlet  or  brazen  cap. 
Tiien  it  branched  out  from  the  parent  stock  into  various  connexions 
which  need  not  be  enumerated.  Now  it  will  be  readily  seen  what  a 
mental  exercise  this  is  for  the  student  anxious  to  arrive  at  inteHectual 
maturity.  Here  we  see  how  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people, 
their  views  and  feelings,  their  modes  of  thought  and  action,  all  modify 
the  language,  and  through  this  variety  of  modification,  the  mind  pursues 
its  eager  inquiries  up  to  the  parent  stock  and  root.  But  this  is  not  all. 
Consider  the  connexion  which  this  process  establishes  with  other  lan- 
guages as  exhibited  in  this  single  word  and  a  new  field  opens  to  our  as- 
tonished view  :  a  field  as  extended  and  vast  as  the  generations  of  the 
human  race.  Here  we  will  discover  that  one  language  does  not  stand 
isolated  and  detached  from  the  rest,  but  that  there  is  a  common  bond  of 
union  more  intimate  or  remote  among  all  the  languages  of  the  earth. — 
f^'rom  the  word  ^(Aas  we  derive  the  Latin  word  jnlus^  the  hair  of  any 
creature,  pilciis  a  cap,  the  German  word  Jilz,  the  Saxon  felt,  the  Eng- 
lish felt,  pelt,  jieltrij,  etc.  Now  look  at  this  word  in  its  ground-form 
as  it  existed  long  before  the  birth  of  Homer,  and  follow  it  down  the 
stream  of  time  amid  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  and  the  convulsions  of 
nature  down  to  the  present  form  in  our  own  language,  which  may  or 
may  not  be  the  last  language  in  which  it  will  form  a  constitutional  part 
and  say,  is  not  the  science  of  language  wonderful,  and  does  it  not  pre- 
sent to  us  one  of  the  most  interesting  monuments  of  the  human  mind, 
— time  worn  indeed,  yet  venerable — which  it  is  capable  of  contempla- 
ting } 

Take  the  word  (rvi<.o<p uvnn  as  another  illustration.  Tliis  woid  is 
compounded  of  c-vxov  nfg,  and  (pctivw  to  show  to  inform.  During 
a  season  of  dearth,  when  provisions  were  scarce  at  Athens,  it  was  deem- 


14  EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS, 

ed  advisable  to  prohibit  the  exportation  of  figs.  We  may  suppose  that 
under  the  original  circumstances  of  the  case,  an  informer  or  i7-vxo<pa.t- 
T7}<;  would  be  honored  and  that  the  epithet  would  be  honorable,  for  he 
would  be  detecting  ciime  and  honoring  the  laws.  But  it  would  not  be 
likely  that  during  a  season  of  dearth,  this  law  would  be  violated;  first, 
from  love  of  country  which  was  very  strong  among  the  Athenians,  and 
secondly,  because  there  would  be  a  great  demand  lor  figs  at  home.  Now 
this  law  against  exporting  figs,  remained  un-repealed  in  the  statute,  when 
a  plentiful  harvest  rendered  it  unnecessary  by  removing  the  cause  of  its 
creation.  But  ill-natured  and  malicious  persons  from  this  took  occa- 
sion to  inform  on  all  persons  whom  tliey  could  discover  transgressing 
the  letter  of  the  law.  From  them  all  informers  were  branded  with  the 
name  o-vKotpciircii.  The  word  is  never  used  in  a  good  sense.  Hence 
when  Demosthenes  in  the  oration  on  the  croicn,  makes  the  distinction 
between  the  counsellor  and  the  sycophant,  and  by  implication  applies 
this  latter  term  to  j^jschines,  we  can  appreciate  the  force  of  the  expres- 
sion to  an  Athenian  ear.  The  word  after  this  signified  a  tale-bearer  in 
general,  then  a  parasite,  a  flatterer,  then  especially  a  flatterer  of  the  great, 
of  princes,  hence  a  deceiver,  an  impositor.  The  word  as  transferred 
and  used  in  our  language  is  generally  applied  to  those  who  hang  upon 
the  great  and  flatter  them  ;  and  hence  it  means  one  who  flatters  to  de- 
ceive. Now  what  a  fund  of  information  the  history  of  this  word  fur- 
nishes us.  What  an  interesting  and  profitable  mental  exercise.  We  be- 
come acquainted  with  a  law  of  the  Athenians,  the  cause  of  that  law,  the 
state  of  society  when  that  law  was  in  operation  and  we  learn  somelliing 
of  their  human  nature,  it  opens  u  door  by  which  we  can  look,  at  least 
to  some  extent,  into  tlie  workings  of  their  minds,  and  finally  we  be- 
come thoroughly  acquainted  with  our  own  language  so  far  as  one  word 
can  teach  us.  Thus  language  etymologically  considered  opens  one  of 
the  richest  mines  to  the  philosophical  student. 


epistles  to  students.     no.  iii. 
Young  Gentlemen  : 

There  remains  of  your  matriculation  vow  something  more  (n  be 
said.  It  is  not  exliausted  in  the  topics  thus  far  considered.  In  addition 
to  the  things  pledged,  which  have  already  been  presented,  you  solemn- 
ly bind  yourselves,  upon  your  truth  and  honor,  "to  abstain  from  tlie 
use  of  profane  language. " 

Your  college  in  making  this  requisition,  proceeds'  upon  very   safe 
ground.     It  is  nothing  more  than  directing  your  attention  to  one  of  the 


EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS.  15 

precepts  of  the  deculogue,  and  binding  upon  your  conscience  the  sol- 
emn duly  of  obedience  to  it.  God  hath  spoken  and  said  in  a  code  of 
perpetual  obligation — "  Thou  shall  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy 
God  in  vain,  for  the  Lord  will  not  hold  him  guiltless,  who  taketh  his 
name  in  vain. "  The  founder  of  Christianity  in  his  sermon  on  the 
Monnt,  teaches  us  not  to  swear  at  all  by  any  oath  whatever  "  not  how- 
ever, as  generally  understood,  rejecting  that  oath  for  confirmation,  which 
is  the  end  of  all  strife."  Profanity  prohibited  by  God  and  by  the  stat- 
ute law  of  your  college,  consists  in  using  the  name,  the  title,  the  attrib- 
utes of  God  lightly,  irreverently,  and  without  any  necessity.  Appeals 
to  him  for  the  truth  of  what  we  utter,  when  undemanded  by  any  com- 
petent tribunal  of  our  country,  imprecations  of  his  judgments  upon  our 
fellow  men,  who  have  offended  us,  are  frequent  forms  of  this  offence — 
an  offence  against  the  law  of  God  and  the  decencies  of  social  life.  An 
exposition  of  the  law  of  God  on  this  subject,  however  profitable  it 
might  be,  is  not  consistent  with  the  plan  of  our  letters.  We  omit  any 
further  explanation  of  what  is  implied  in  this  promise,  and  confine  our- 
selves to  the  propriety  and  obligation  of  that  promise.  It  is  certainly 
proper,  in  a  Christian  institution,  that  that  great  Being  whom  we  wor- 
ship as  our  Creator,  before  whom  we  are  all  soon  to  appear  in  judgment 
should  be  feared  by  us  and  that  we  should  abstain  from  all  unbecoming 
language  in  regard  to  him.  If,  in  the  presence  of  a  wise  man,  we  would 
regard  it  as  proper  to  avoid  disrespectful  language  and  any  such  use  of 
that  by  which  he  was  distinguished,  or  appertained  to  him,  much  more 
should  we  towards  God.  The  obligation  is  of  the  strongest  and  most 
imperative  character  and  the  idea  never  can  be  indulged  with  any  reason 
that  duties  burdensome  and  oppressive  are  imposed  upon  us,  when  it  is 
required  at  our  hands  that  we  should  not  be  profane. 

In  no  way  can  this  vice  contribute  to  an  advantage.  It  has  no  im- 
mediate, it  has  no  prospective  benefits.  It  gratifies  no  passion,  it  sub- 
serves no  interest.  It  is  utterly  inexcusable.  Abhorred  by  the  good, 
its  language  is  repelled  from  the  vocabulary  of  the  polite.  Particularly 
guarded  should  the  young  be  against  this  most  gratuitous  offence.  Ea- 
sily acquired,  it  is  vvith  difl^iculty  abandoned  when  it  is  formed  into  a 
habit.  It  appears  without  effort  and  displays  itself  without  being  ob- 
served by  its  victim.  It  has  the  weakest  inducements,  but  the  deepest 
guilt.  It  prepares  for  bitter  remorse,  and  is  subjected  to  severe  punish- 
ment. Sometimes  in  this  life  the  anger  of  God  strikes  down  the  pro- 
fane, always  in  eternity  the  unreclaimed  swearer  is  exposed  to  the  terri- 
ble strokes  of  vindictive  justice.  Avoid  it  then,  young  gentlemen,  for 
it  is  of  evil  portent.     Avoid  it,  for  it  is  diffusive  and  contaminating,     ft 


16  UNWRITTEN  LANGUAGE. 

spreads  around.  The  young,  in  whom  moral  respectability  is  but  par- 
tially developed,  children,  who  cannot  appreciate  its  evil,  acquire  it, 
learn  fiom  you,  and  if  not  ruined,  are  in  extreme  hazard  of  losing  their 
souls.  As  long  as  you  indulge  in  the  violation  of  this  command,  you 
are  incapacitated  for  the  reception  of  religious  instruction,  no  hope  can 
be  entertained  that  you  will  regard  other  precepts  of  the  divine  law. — 
Guilty  of  profanity,  you  have  the  spirit  of  disobedience  as  fully  as  if 
you  violate  every  precept  of  God.  Guilty  of  this,  your  condemnation 
is  as  certain  as  if  you  could  be  convicted  of  an  infraction  of  the  whole 
decalogue.  So  are  we  taught  in  the  word  of  God,  when  we  read,  that 
"  he,  that  keepeth  the  whole  law,  and  yet  ofTendeth  in  one  point,  is 
guilty  of  all.  " 

We  conclude  with  the  earnest  advice,  that  in  this  respect,  you  give 
particular  heed  to  guard  your  tongue,  that  unruly  member,  the  instru- 
ment of  great  good,  the  instument  of  great  evil — for  "  therewith  bless 
we  God,  even  the  Father,  and  therewith  curse  we  men,  which  are  made 

after  the  similitude  of  God."" 

Yours. 


FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  RICHTER. 

Is  the  Sage  greater,  who,  when  storms  arise, 

Flies  from  his  home  to  some  more  peaceful  skies, 

Calmly  looks  down  on  the  tumultuous  age. 

Nor  lifts  his  hand  to  still  the  sounding  rage : — 

Or  he  who  dwelling  in  repose,  afar 

From  crowds  discordant  and  tempestuous  war, 

Yet  leaves  repose  and  dear  loved  peaceful  joys, 

And  boldly  plunges  in  the  battle  noise 

Of  the  rude  time — bound  by  the  sacred  tie 

Which  links  his  soul  to  loved  humanity  ? 

A  noble  sight  to  see  the  bird  of  Jove 

Fly  through  the  storm  to  the  still  heav'n  above  : 

But  nobler  far  when  hovering  on  high, 

In  the  clear  blue  that  spans  the  upper  sky, 

He  plunges  downward  through  the  blacken'd  cloud, 

Store-house  of  lightning  and  of  thunder  loud, 

And  seeks  his  eyrie,  where  with  trembling  fear. 

Crouch  his  young  offspring,  objects  of  his  care. 


UNWRITTEN  LANGUAGE. 

Unwritten  Language,  1  indeed  say,  but  the  words  do  not  express  all, 
for  that  of  which  we  speak  is  both  unwritten  and  incapable  of  being 


UNWRITTEN-   LANOrAGE,  17 

written,  It  is  the  communing  of  the  inner  soul  with  the  vast  universe 
of  thought,  which  is  bounded  by  no  limits,  and  which,  in  its  relation  to 
the  mind,  presents  itself  under  such  varied  and  transcendent  forms. — 
Through  it,  the  highest,  holiest,  most  exalted  ideas  are  conveyed ;  for  is 
it  not  the  very  powerlcssness  of  words  that  makes  it  "  unwritten  ?"  It 
comes  to  speak  of  the  inconceivable  grandeur  of  an  unseen  and  unfelt 
eternity,  yet  disdains  not  to  breathe  of  ihe  modest  beauties  found  in  the 
humblest  portions  of  creation.  The  Christian  Philosopher  feels  it,  as 
he  thinks  of  God,  the  child  hears  its  mute  whisperings,  as  the  zephyr 
gambols  among  the  woodbine  leaves. 

Throughout,  there  are  images  of  beauty,  wondrous  beauty.  'Tis  a 
beautiful  language  which  God  pencils  in  moonbeams  upon  the  bosom  of 
the  still  lake.  Silently,  though  not  voicelessly,  those  bright  beams  are 
falling ;  and,  poor,  weak  man,  with  thy  ten  thousand  words  and  folio- 
lexicons,  I  defy  thee  to  set  them  in  such  order  that  they  may  reach  my 
heart  as  does  that  mute  language!  At  such  a  time,  talk  not  to  me  of 
words  long  and  short  and  all  the  technicalities  of  grammar,  for  this  lan- 
guage existed  before  such  refined  disquisitions  perplexed  mortal  minds. 
Than  this  I  would  not  desire  a  preacher  more  persuasively  eloquent ; 
for,  iii  an  inconceivably  short  space,  I  have  a  sermon  something  like  this: 
"'Tis  calmness  and  peace  that  mirrors  heaven  perfectly  :  and  turgid  wa- 
ters mar  the  lustre  of  reflected  images.  What  benevolence  in  Him,  who 
sets  the  seal  of  loveliness  even  upon  the  inanimate  creation ;  yet  is  it 
not  also  as  a  means  of  refining  the  human  soul,  by  luring  it  away  from 
its  gross  and  bestial  tendencies  to  innocence  and  purity."  He  must  be 
worse  than  a  heathen  who  is  not  moved  by  these  things.  They  seem 
to  me  as  a  constant  warning  and  entreating  voice,  urging  from  the  com- 
mission of  evil.  Yea,  methinks,  the  black  purposes  of  the  heart  do  not 
so  readily  rise,  when  these  still  voices  are  permitted  to  speak.  Would 
the  man-slayer  deliberately  select  as  the  scene  of  his  atrocity  the  ver- 
dant mead,  beneath  embowering  elms,  with  the  gurgling  brook  hard  by, 
prattling  in  innocence  .'  Would  he  not  hesitate  to  dye  that  green  turf 
with  crimson  gore,  and  not  rather  seek  the  arid  sands  tliat  drink  blood 
greedily,  or  creep  among  dews  and  cares,  suited  in  noisomeness  fo  the 
foulness  of  his  crime  f-  Is  not  beauty,  purity,  and  innocence  powerfully 
spoken  in  this  same  unwritten  language  ? 

But,  there  is  grandeur  and  might!  The  restless  heaving  and  thiot- 
ling  of  "  Ocean's  yesty  waves  "  gives  birth  to  an  idea  which  mere  words 
fail  to  utter;  and  the  spectator  of  Niagara's  wonders  needs  no  "descrip- 
tion" of  its  grandeur.  Men  say  that  "God  speaks  in  the  thunder,"  but 
who  knows  it  so  well  as  the  mute,  back-skrinking  individual,  upon  whose 


18  LOOSE   LEAVES 

ears  the  crashing  peal  has  just  burst?  We  read  description  after  des- 
cription of  the  burning  of  Moscow,  yet  with  all  their  beauty  and  viv- 
idness, there  is  a  vacuity  left  in  the  mind  which  the  sight  of  the  fierce 
flame  enwrapping  the  humblest  tenement  with  its  sheets  of  fire  com- 
pletely supplies.  There  is  the  confused  and  smothered  mingling  of 
many  voices  in  the  distance,  sometimes  a  cry  of  terror  or  irrepressible 
emotion,  giving  evidence  of  some  new  horror ;  the  noise  of  preparation 
to  subdue  the  flames;  the  risk  of  human  life;  the  ascending  volumes  of 
smoke,  illuminated  from  below,  and  occasionally  gemmed  all  o'er  with 
brilliant  sparks ;  the  dull  glare  along  the  horizon  and  upon  surrounding 
objects — and  all  this  in  the  night,  the  dark  still  night !  Can  words  ex- 
press it?  Who  has  written  what  you  and  I  have  seen,  \\di\efelt?  Who 
has  ever  thus  caused  reality  to  start  upon  our  senses,  and  given  evidence 
that  a  new  power  was  given  to  man,  to  speak  the  things  before  unspeak- 
able ?     That  man  lives  not ! 

This  Language  that  seems  to  float  all  around  ready  to  speak  to  him 
who  will  hear,  is  a  prerogative  conferred  by  the  Deity,  through  which 
"  the  invisible  things  of  Him  are  clearly  seen,"  and  that  man  is  a  liappy 
man  who  listens  to  its  voice.  The  thoughts  that  come  to  him  are  not 
tliose  of  bitterness  and  strife.  There  is  much  of  holiness,  and  a  world 
of  peace :  yea 

"  When  thoughts 
Of  the  last  bitter  hour  come,  like  a  blight. 
Over  thy  spirit,  and  sad  images 
Of  the  stern  agony,  and  shroud,  and  pall. 
And  breathless  darlcness,  and  the  narrow  house. 
Make  thee  to  shudder  and  grow  sick  at  heart, 
Go  forth  under  the  open  sky  and  list 
To  Nature's  teachings,  while  from  all  around. 
Earth  and  her  waters  and  the  depths  of  air. 
Comes  a  still  voice.  " 

And  if  that  voice  has  never  come  to  you,  then  have  you  lost  tlie  half 
of  existence  and  ineffable  joys. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  SKETCH  BOOK.       NO.  I. 

BY  J.  C.  M. 

Berlin^  May  19.  To  day  Prof.  Erichson  invited  me  to  attend  the 
weekly  meeting  of  a  club  of  Scrvans.  In  the  evening  we  repaired  to 
the  place  of  rendezvous^  which  was  in  a  large  apartment  of  Prof.  King's 
dwelling.  I  expected  to  meet  a  number  of  celehratics  and  was  not  dis- 
appoi^i-Ufd.     As  we  entered,  the  members  were  chattering  familiarly  in 


FROM  MY   SKETCH-BOOK.  19 

knots  around  the  room.  They  received  me  cordially  after  a  general  in- 
troduction and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  busily  engaged  in  answering  ques- 
tions on  the  condition  of  science  in  the  United  States.  I  had  previous- 
ly met  with  but  few  of  these  gentlemen,  but  I  was  resolved  to  find  them 
all  out  before  the  meeting  closed.  The  President  soon  called  to  order 
and  vve  seated  ourselves  around  a  long  table.  Whilst  some  informal 
proceedings  were  going  on,  1  asked  Prof.  Erichson,  "Who  is  that  old 
gentleman,  the  chairman  of  the  meeting  ?"  ''That  is  Link,  Professor  of 
Botany."  "O  Yes!  I've  heard  of  him."  Prof.  Link  is  the  author  of 
seventeen  works  on  Botany,  and  some  of  them  of  no  small  compass. — 
His  writings  are  greatly  admired  by  the  learned  in  this  science,  and  ho 
Iras  received  honors  from  most  of  the  scientiiic  societies  in  Europe. — 
He  has  travelled  into  various  other  countries  and  has  gathered  the  bo- 
tanical treasures  of  many  foreign  lands.  He  is  now  an  aged  man,  but 
still  full  of  vivacity  and  takes  as  much  interest  as  ever  in  his  favoi-ite 
science.  Prof.  Klug,  with  whom  I  had  before  become  acquainted,  sat 
next  to  him.  He  too  is  an  old  man,  but  his  energies  have  not  failed, 
and  in  conversation  he  is  as  sprightly  as  a  youth.  Klug  is  one  of  the 
entomological  lights  of  the  age.  I  had  long  been  familiar  with  his 
works  and  had  been  indebted  to  him  for  some  valuable  exchanges. — 
Though  he  is  still  a  Professor  in  tlie  University,  yet  1  believe  he  does 
not  read  lectures.  He  is  chiefly  occupied  as  an  examinator  of  candi- 
dates for  medical  degrees  and  is  in  some  way  connected  with  the  medi- 
cal police  of  the  city.  He  commenced  his  career  as  a  disciple  of  JEs- 
culapius,  but  has  distinguished  himself  particularly  as  a  pupil  of  the 
school  of  Linne.  Most  of  his  time  has  been  devoted  to  Natural  Histo- 
ry. He  is  now  Director  of  one  of  the  departments  of  the  University 
Museum,  and  by  the  bounty  of  his  Sovereign,  he  is  relieved  from  ardu- 
ous duties.  He  is  an  interesting  old  gentleman  and  profoundly  versed 
in  Entomological  science. 

"  Professor,  who  are  those  two  gentlemen  that  resemble  each  other 
on  the  left  of  Klug  r"  "  Those  are  the  brothers  Rose,  the  one  nearest 
Klug,  is  Prof,  of  Chemistry."  "Is  he  the  gentleman  who  accompanied 
Humboldt  to  the  Ural  Mountains,  and  wrote  the  Manual  of  Analytical 
Chemistry  r"     "The  same, — his  brother   is  Prof,  of  Geology." 

The  next  in  order  was  John  Muller,  the  great  Physiologist  of  Ger- 
many, and  one  of  the  most  brilliant  luminaries  in  the  constellation  of 
European  scientijiques.  He  is  a  universal  genius  and  has  received  not 
only  the  plaudits  of  the  scientific  world  for  his  numerous  and  original 
writings,  but  also  orders  and  decorations  from  Sovereigns.  Herlin  is 
pioud  of  John  Midler.     He  i^  ralhtr  a  ijuiuii^bjli  man,   born  during   this 


20  LOOSE  LEAVES 

century,  l)i)t  lie  has  already  written  twelve  works,  and  is  now  the  editor 
of  that  famous  Medical  Journal,  Archiv  fiir  Anatomic,  Physiologic  und 
wissenschaftl.  Medicin.  I  had  seen  him  before  in  his  own  study,  which 
is  next  to  the  great  hall  in  which  is  kept  the  collection  of  Comparative 
Anatomy.  He  was  surrounded  by  a  knot  of  pupils  to  whom  he  was 
describing  some  curious  phenomena  in  his  favorite  science. 

"You  must  have  patience  with  me,  Professor, — who  is  that  hand- 
some, bald  headed  gentleman  in  specs,  next  to  Miiller  .^" 

"  That  is  Von  Bach  !  " 

"  What !  Leopold  v.  Buch,  the  world  known  geologist  ?  " 

'•The  same."  "  I  would  have  come  a  hundred  German  miles  to  see 
hiui  alone." 

"  Well,  I'll  introduce  you  to  him  now.  Prof.  v.  Buch,  dies  ist  mein 
Frcund  Herr  M.  aus  den  Vereinigten  Staaten. "  Wc  were  near  each 
other  and  could  converse  without  disturbing  the  meeting.  I  had  been 
acquainted  with  his  books  and  especially  his  theory  of  the  elevation  of 
mountains  by  the  agency  of  subterranean  gases,  and  was  delighted  with 
seeing  the  author. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  very  ordinary  looking  man, 
in  a  very  plain  dress,  came  bustling  in  and  planted  himself  in  a  chair  in 
no  very  dignified  style,  and  at  the  same  time  uttering  a  witticism  on  a 
remark  made  by  a  member.  Who  was  this  .''  No  less  a  man  than  the 
astromomcr  Encke, — the  man  who  lives  among  the  stars  and  is  himself 
a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  He  has  rendered  his  name  famous  all  the 
world  over;  for  in  one  sense  it  is  written  in  blazing  letters  on  the  skies, 
and  is  borne  with  lightning  rapidity  through  fields  of  illimitable  space. 
Every  body  has  heard  of  Encke's  comet,  M'hich  was  thus  designated, 
because  by  his  profound  calculations,  he  proved  that  the  comet  of  1819 
was  the  same  as  that  observed  in  1805.  He  has  also  calculated  the  ob- 
served transits  of  Venus  across  the  Sun  of  1761  and  1769,  and  has  writ- 
ten many  other  celebrated  astronomical  treatises.  He  is  only  fifty-four 
years  of  age  and  in  the  full  vigor  of  life  and  will  no  doubt,  render  much 
autre  valuable  service  to  the  science  of  the  stars. 

Now — said  Erichson — we  will  proceed.  The  man  at  the  end  of  the 
table  is  Gurlt,  the  Prof,  of  "Veterinary  Surgery."  This  gentleman  has 
published  seven  works  in  his  department  of  science,  and  deservedly 
maintains  an  elevated  rank.  And  thus  my  friend  E.  proceeded  to  give 
mc  tlic  names  of  more  of  the  gentlemen  present,  of  most  of  whom  I 
liad  previously  heard.  There  were  men  there,  whose  fame  has  reached 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  arc  the  cherished,  favorites  of  kings  and  no- 
bles, but  who  were  still  aa  unaosumin^r  and  uuoalentutious  at  country 


FROM  MY  SKETCH-BOOK.  21 

» 

lads.  I  do  admire  the  social  habits  and  iearing  of  these  learned  Ger- 
mans. 

I  have  said  nothing  of  my  Cicerone  through  this,  gallery  of  distin- 
guished worthies.  Erichson  is  a  celebrated  young  man.  He  is  now 
Prof,  of  Entomology  in  the  University,  and  his  name  is  well  known  to 
all  students  of  Zoology  by  his  numerous  and  elaborate  writings.  He 
ranks  among  the  first  entomologists  of  Europe,  and  is  acknowledged  as 
authority  on  all  disputed  points  in  his  department.  He  has  a  discrimi- 
nation tliat  seldom  deceives  him,  an  industry  that  is  indefatigable  and 
talents  capable  of  grasping  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  Zoological  sci- 
ence. In  private  life,  he  is  a  pattern  of  excellence — hospitable  to  stran- 
gers and  forbearing  to  his  enemies,  for  there  are  those  who  envy  Erich- 
son's  elevated  position  and  his  fame.  He  and  his  father-in-law,  Klug, 
are  men,  from  whom  scientific  strangers  in  Berlin  may  expect  to  receive 
the  kindest  attention. 

These  were  a  few  of  the  men  constituting  the  meeting.  The  pro- 
ceedings were  pretty  much  as  follows : 

Prof.  Miiller  exhibited  a  lock  of  hair  curiously  anuulated  with  white 
and  brown ;  and  this  was  the  text  of  a  learned  off-hand  dissertation  on 
the  growth  of  the  hair  at  different  periods  of  life — its  influence  on  health 
— its  effect  on  temperament.  It  was  a  physiological  lecture  which  I 
did  not  pretend  to  understand  altogether,  but  I  comprehended  enough 
to  know  that  John  Miiller,  as  they  call  him,  was  quite  a«  fait  in  the 
mysteries  of  physiological  science. 

Prof.  Poggendorf,  shewed  some  electrical  paper,  and  another  speci- 
men of  paper  perfectly  transparent.  It  was  beautiful.  He  explained 
the  process  of  manufacture  and  the  uses,  and  made  many  interesting  re- 
marks on  the  discovery  of  this  invaluable  writing  material. 

Mr.  Bouchc,  a  distinguished  writer  on  Dipterous  insects,  made  some 
observations  on  the  difficulties  Qif  rearing  the  larvae  of  the  TeufJiredi- 
nce^  to  which  he  had  paid  much  attention.  He  showed  some  specimens 
of  new  species.  This  brought  out  Klug  and  Erichson,  who  delighted 
the  company  with  striking  and  original  remarks  on  this  and  kindred 
subjects. 

Erichson  then  continued  and  gave  us  an  extempore  lecture  on  those 
insects  which  were  furnislied  with  an  air  bladder,  as  Gyrinus^  Parmis, 
Bcuhidium,  &,c.  He  explained  the  nature  and  uses  of  this  singular  ap- 
paratus, and  whilst  he  interested  us  all  by  the  remarkable  facts  he  nar- 
rated, he  also  displayed  the  most  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  anato- 
my of  these  small  beetles,     lie  talked  as  familiarly  of  the  internal  struc- 


22  INFLUENCE  OF  LITTLE   THINGS. 

ture  of  these  minute  animals  as  John  MiiUer  wouhl  of  that  of  the  hu- 
man body. 

Prof.  Gurld  read  an  article  on  the  twin  foetus  of  a  goat,  which  had 
grown  together  back  to  back.  He  showed  finely  executed  drawings  of 
the  animals  and  of  their  anatomy.  When  he  had  concluded,  the  other 
members  added  some  remarks  and  this  led  to  the  subject  of  the  Siamese 
twins.  Some  of  them  inquired  whether  these  were  still  living.  I  an- 
swered the  question  and  gave  them  the  history  of  these  twins  since  their 
arrival  in  our  country.  I  also  mentioned  the  report  of  their  marriage 
to  two  sisters  in  North  Carolina.  This  excited  much  surprise  and  led 
to  many  additional  and  curious  questions. 

Some  other  short  dissertations  were  read  by  members  and  thus  the 
evening  was  delightfully  and  profitably  spent.  The  meeting  was  not 
conducted  with  any  formality,  but  each  member  spoke  when  he  pleased 
without  observing  any  order,  and  more  than  one  good  illustrative  anec- 
<lote  was  told.  The  whole  was  more  like  a  parlor  conversation  than  a 
scientific  meeting  and  this  imparted  an  additional  charm  to  the  whole. — 
The  Professors  laid  aside  tlie  starched  dignity  of  the  lecture  room  and 
unbent  themselves  without  any  reserve.  They  were  by  themselves  and 
did  not  even  suspect  there  "  was  a  chiel  amang  'em  takin'  notes. "  It 
was  a  delightful  re-union  and  among  the  many  pleasant  rerainisenccs  of 
Berlin — this  meeting  is  one  of  the  most  interesting. 

I  do  not  think  these  learned  gentlemen  in  general,  talk  as  well  as 
our  Americans  of  the  same  class.  They  pay  much  less  attention  to  the 
manner  than  the  matter.  They  do  not  appear  to  have  the  ambition  that 
we  have,  to  talk  %vell^  to  aim  at  fluency,  energy  and  excellence  of  dic- 
tion in  common  conversation.  From  no  small  intercourse  with  the  cul- 
tivated classes  of  various  nations,  I  tliink  no  men  on  earth  talk  so  well, 
J  mean  so  fluently,  coirectly  and  pointedly^  as  our  educated  countrymen. 


iNFLUEXCE  OF  UTTI.E  THINGS. 

IIow  frequently  has  it  happened  that  a  single  thought  or  a  casual  oc- 
currence exciting  inquiry  has  led  to  some  of  the  greatest  discoveries  and 
most  splendid  inventions.  Some  of  the  most  valuable  philosophical  truths 
have  been  suggested  by  the  simplest  events.  Copernicus  had  heard  that 
one  of  the  Greek  philosophers  believed  that  the  earth  revolved  on  its 
axis  every  twenty-four  hours,  and  performed  its  revolution  round  the 
sun  in  the  course  of  a  year.  The  remark  had  l)een  read  again  and  again 
by  others  before  Copernicus,  but  was  doubtless  regarded  as  a  wild  hy- 
pothesis.    He  made  it  a  material  of  his  thoughts  to  work  upon,  and  the 


.\EW  EXPLOSIVE   PREPARATIOX. —  THE  METEOR.  23 

result  was  an  entire  revolution  in  the  opinions  of  the  school  and  the 
universal  adoption  of  what  every  one  now  regards  a  very  simple  truth. 

Galileo  discovered  the  most  perfect  measure  of  time  which  we  possess 
by  observing  the  movements  of  a  lamp  suspended  from  the  ceiling, 
which  some  circumstance  had  disturbed  and  caused  to  vibrate.  The 
plienomenon  had  been  noticed  before,  but  no  one  had  watched  it  with 
the  philosophic  attention  with  which  it  was  observed  by  the  young  Ital- 
ian who  at  once  saw  the  important  application  that  might  be  made  of  the 
fact  suggested  to  his  mind. 

An  accidental  circumstance  in  the  life  of  Priestly — his  residence  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  brewery,  directing  his  curiosity  to  the  examination 
and  analysis  of  the  several  gases  and  the  singular  result  of  his  experiment 
led  to  others  which  in  his  hands  soon  became  Pneumatic  Chemistry. 

The  falling  of  an  apple,  seen  by  all  the  world  before  a  thousand  times, 
first  suggested  to  JYewton,  that  gravitation  was  the  mighty  band  of  the  Uni- 
verse— the  principle  on  which  the  mechanism  of  the  heavens  depends. 

Goclfrerfs  invention  of  the  Mariner's  quadrant,  upon  the  optical  prin- 
ciple of  double  reflection,  (referred  to  by  a  recent  correspondent  of  the 
Record,)  is  also  an  illustration  of  the  facility  possessed  by  some  indi- 
viduals of  turning  to  profit  the  results  of  casual  observations. 


NEW  EXPLOSIVE  PREPARATION'. 

Professor  Shonbeim  has  discovered  a  method  of  rendering  cotton 
explosive  and  a  substitute  for  gun  powder.  The  process  of  its  prepara- 
tion is  as  yet  a  secret.  It  kindles  more  readily  than  gun  powder,  the 
former  requiring  a  temperature  of  400°,  whilst  the  latter  requires  a  tem- 
perature of  600°.  Its  combustion  is  perfect,  leaving  nothing  to  stain  or 
deposit  upon  the  substance  upon  which  it  is  lying  when  it  is  inflamed. 
This  is  a  great  desideratum,  since  in  the  combustion  of  even  the  best 
gun  powder  so  much  resisjJual  matter  which  has  not  been  burned  is  de- 
posited as  to  render  its  removal  from  the  chamber  of  fire  arms  a  matter 
of  constant  necessity.  Its  explosive  properties  are  not  inferior  to  those 
of  gun  powder,  so  that  in  the  use  of  fire  arms  it  will  likely  be  substitu- 
ted for  it.  It  is  not  injured  by  having  become  wet;  for  when  dried 
again  it  will  burn  as  readily  as  before. 


THE  METEOR  OF  JULY  13tH,  1846. 

Mr.  Kirkwood  (Linnajan  Journal,  vol.  ii.  p.  250)  states  that  this  me- 
teor ''  was  vertical  somewhere  between  York  and  Lancaster.  "     It  was 


24  PENN.  COLLEGE. 

observed  upon  the  east  bank  of  the  Susquehanna  two  miles  above  Col- 
umbia, Pa.  (intermediate  between  York  and  Lancaster)  by  Mrs.  S.  S.  Hal- 
deman,  to  whom  it  appeared  to  be  vertical,  and  moving  east  of  north. — 
This  confirms  Mr.  Kirdwood's  statement,  and  affords  an  additional 
fact.  II, 


A  notice  of  Le  Verrier's  planet,  recently  discoveid,  arrived  too  late 
for  this  number.     It  will  be  given  in  our  next. 


PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Our  friends  at  a  distance  will  be  gratified  to  learn  that  the  exercises 
of  the  Winter  term  have  opened  under  the  most  favorable  auspices. — 
The  accession  of  new  students  is  thirty-eight.  The  whole  number  in 
attendance  is  already  one  hundred  and  fifty,  and  as  we  have  been  in  ses- 
sion only  about  a  fortnight,  our  prospects  may  bc^  regarded  as  unusu- 
ally encouraging. 


TO  THE  READERS  OF  THE  RECORD  AND  JOURNAL. 

In  entering  upon  a  new  volume  of  our  periodical  we  are  disposed 
to  say  a  word,  rather  in  compliance  with  custom  than  from  a  conscious- 
ness of  its  necessity.  The  interest  which  has  been  manifested  in  the 
Journal  during  the  past  two  years  of  its  existence  as  well  as  the  favor- 
able reception  it  has  met  abroad,  is  a  sufficient  indication  of  its  useful- 
ness, and  furnishes  the  strongest  hope  of  its  future  success.  We  have 
only  to  urge  our  friends,  who  have,  by  their  continued  support,  evinced 
their  approval  of  our  efforts,  to  make  some  exertions  to  extend  the  cir- 
culation of  the  Journal.  In  order  that  there  may  be  no  pecuniary  risk 
involved  in  the  publication,  we  should  be  glad  to  secure  some  additional 
subscribers.  Renewed  efforts  will  be  made  to  improve  the  character  of 
the  Journal,  and  from  promises  of  co-operation  and  assistance  which 
have  been  given  by  gentlemen  of  ability,  the  Editors  hope  that  its 
value  will  be  increased.  It  is  our  intention  to  leave  nothing  undone 
to  render  the  work  all  that  it  professes  to  be,  and  in  every  way  de- 
serving tlie  confidence  of  our  friends  and  the  patronage  of  the  commu- 
nity. With  the  humble  trust,  that  a  liberal  and  enlightened  public  will 
continue  to  smile  favoringly  upon  our  efforts,  we  commend  our  labors 
to  the  indulgence  of  all  who  may  think  them  wortiiy  of  their  notice. 


Receipts  during  Ociober. 

Wiu.  Wriglit,  York  Springs',  |>1 

Mrs.  E.  Carper,  Leesbiirg,  Va.  2 

Dr.  J.  H.  Hiester,  Reading,  1 

Rev.  F.  A.  M.  Keller,     "  2 

Dr.  J.  B.  Kern,  "^  1 

S.  L.  Boyer,  ■•  1 

Hon.  VVm.  Strong,         -  1 

Dr.  Isaac  Hiester,  •'  1 

Rev.  J.J.  Reiniensnyder,  Smithsbnrg,  M(l.  1 

Rev.  Dr.  E.  Keller,  Springlicld,  O.  1 

Dr.  E.  Bishops,  Smithsbnrg.  1 

Rev.  L.  G.  Eggers,  Niitany,  1 

John  Martin,  "      '  1 

Dr.  J.  Williard,  Hagerstown,  ]\ld.  1 

Uev.  L.  Knight,  Bloonilield,  1 

Rev.  A.  G.  Deininger,  Berlin.  1 

Rev.  M.  Eyster,  Greencastle.  1 

Isaac  Reed,  Marion,  1 

Rev.  S.  Sprecher,  Chantibersburg,  1 

Rev.  E.  Bridenbaugh,  Newville.  1 

Rev.  J.  G.  Capito,  York,  1 

Rev.  H.  Ziegler,  Union  Co.,  Pa.  2 

Samuel  Gast,  Frankstown,  1 

Rev.  A.  J.  Woddle,  Lancaster,  O,  1 
Rev.  C.  C.  Baughman,  Middlebrook,  Va.    1 


Rufus  Barringer,  Concord,  N.  C. 

Rev.  Samuel  Rnthrock,  Rockville,  N  .C. 

Rev.  J.  E.  GraefT,  Pine  Grove, 

H.  Baumgardner,  Esq.  Lancaster, 

H.  Rathvon,  Esq.  " 

Prof.  W.  H.  Allen,  Dickinson  College, 


Lewis  Trittle,  Esq.  Washington  Co.,  Md.  1 


Mathias  Sheeliegh,  Chester  Co.,  Pa. 

Dr.  J.  F.  Baum,  Berks  Co.,  Pa. 

J.  V.  Hoshour,  Glenrock, 

Rev.  J.  R.  Kciser,  New  Germantown, 

David  Martin,  jr.,  Baltimore. 

Rev.  C.  F.  Kunkic,  Centrevilio. 

Prof.  W.  M.  Reynold?,  Gettysburg. 

F.  W.  Denwiddie, 

John  Unruh, 

Philip  Shceder, 

Wm.  M.  Bauni. 

Wm.  Beard, 

H.  Knhns, 

J.  G.  Butler. 

David  Stroll. 

J.  E.  Coble. 

Peter  Rabv. 

C.  W.  Col'lier. 
Luther  Albert. 

J.  A.  S.  Trcssh  r. 
II.  Bickell. 

D.  Eyler. 

A.  J.  Huntzinati>        * 

U.  B.  KfUuv, 

A.  O.  Scolt,' 

R.  A.  Fink, 

S.  Binner, 

FT,  Il.H'k 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

0(1 

'I't 

no 

<i0 
00 
00 
00 
00 
00 


Vol.  2d 

"  1st  &  2d. 
"  2d. 
"  2d  &  3d. 
"  3d. 


«  2d- 


3d. 


1st  a  2d. 

2d. 


2,3,1,5,6. 
2 


«  3d. 

••  l.st.p.  i..<»l 

•■  2d. 


Vol.  2d. 


Pennsijluania  iWcbiral  College, 

Filbert  above  Eleventh  street,  Philadelphia. 


\  Medical  Faculty  at  Philadelphia. 

■  Wm.  Dabrach,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine. 

<  John  Wiltbank,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Obstetrics  and  Diseases  of  tvoiaen  and  children. 

I  H.  S.  Patterson,  M.  D. —  Prof,  of  Materia  Medica. 

'  Wm.  R.  Grant.  M.  D. — Prof,  of  ./Inatomy  and  Physiology. 

:  D.  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Principles  and  Practice  of  Surgery. 

:  W.  L.  Atlee,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Medical  Chemistry. 

]  W.  T.  Babe,  M.  D. — Demonstrator  of  Anatomy. 

I        The  Lectures  will  commence  on  Monday  Nov.  2nd. 


IDonations  to  Cabinet. 

From  Prof.  N.  C.  Brooks,      Three  Ag:ates,  Ammonites,  and  Iron  Pyrites. 


1. 
2. 
3. 

pasian 
4. 
5. 
G. 
7. 
8. 
9. 
10. 

n. 


Hadrian,  8ic. 


Relics  from  Pompeii  anp  the  Bosphoroug. 
Ancient  Roman  Coins  of  the  reigns  of  Ves- 


^ 


Virginia  Colonial  farthing. 
C.  W.  Hill,  Fac  Simile  of  a  decree  of  a  Roman  Consul. 
J.  Loxver,  A  medallioi-v  portrait  of  President  Polk. 
Dr.  /.  P.  Heistcr,  Pha.sma  Rossia  in  spirits, 
George  Slolhouer,  Six  coins. 

Mr.  ^'1.  Ramsey,  per  L.  Baugher,  An  Essequibo  coin. 
Dr.  /.  Sturm,  Nuremberg,  Germany,  1  box  European  Insects. 
Dr.  V071  dem  Busch,  Bremen,  1  box  Shells. 

SDonatious  to  £ibvarn. 


i  1.  From  Dr.  J.  Sturm,  2  vols.  Natural  History. 

\  2.       "     Dr.  /.  G.  Morris,  20  vols.  Natural  History,  &c. 

;  The  books  together  with  Nos.  10  and  11  for  the  Cabinet,  were  obtained  by  Dr. 

;,  J.  G.  Morris. 


I         Terms  of  the  Record  a.\d  Journal.    One  Dollar  per  annwn 

''    in  advance.  * 

•         Address — ''■Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal^  Gettysburg,  Pa." 


VOLUME  III. 


Tnumber  2. 


LITERARY   RECORD   AND   JOURNAL 

©f  tlje  JTiiinacan  Jtsaaciatioti  of  Ptntifltjluania  (ILoiie^t. 
DECEMBER,    J846. 


CONDUCTED 

nn  n  Committee  ot  the  ^saocfatfou. 


CONTENTS. 
GERMAN  PHILOSOPHY,  -  -  -  . 

LIGHT-PAINTING,      -  -  -  -  - 

ASTRONOMICAL  DISCOVERIS, 
LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL, 
SPECTRUM  FEMORATUM,       -  -  -  . 

ON  READING,  _  _  .  -  _ 

THE   OLD  BUCKET,         -  -  -  - 

REV.  DR.    BETHUNe's    ORATION.      YALE  COL- 
LEGE, ------ 

CENTRAL  SUN  OF  THE  UNIVERSE, 

TO  THE   READERS,  -  -  - 


25 
29 
33 
36 
39 
40 
42 

44 

48 
ib. 


li   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2i  cents,  to  any  distance  w.tiiiu  ti»e  Uiuoji. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  11  [.  DECEMBER,  1846.  No.  2. 

GERMAN    PHILOSOPHY. 

By  C.  De  Remusat,  Member  of  the  InsiUute  of  France. 

(Continued  from  p.  231,  Vol.  II.) 

FICIITE. 

The  sense  of  that  which  was  wanting  in  the  criticism  of  Kant,  ani- 
mated his  rivals  and  successors.  Eiit  it  was  a  system  so  skillfully  wo- 
ven together,  it  seized  upon  the  mind  so  powerfully  that  the  most  dis- 
tinguished thinkers  looked  within  it  and  not  without  it  for  that  which 
it  lacked.  They  made  use  of  Kant  in  order  to  advance  beyond  him,  or 
even  to  contradict  him.  The  three  great  philosophers  who  have  reign- 
ed since  him,  have  come  forth  from  his  school. 

That  which  was  most  clearly  wanting  to  his  system  was  a  principle. 
Among  the  great  examples  given  by  Descartes,  is  that  of  a  philosophy 
truly  systematic,  that  is  to  say,  having  a  principle,  the  source  of  the 
unity  of  the  system.  Since  him,  wliether  right  or  wrong,  philosophy 
has  formed  its  ideal  upon  this  condition.  It  might,  therefore,  be  suppo- 
sed, and  so  it  was  supposed,  that  if  there  could  be  found  in  the  sys- 
tem of  Kant  a  principle  forming  as  it  were  its  apc.v,  a  principle  not  ex- 
terior to  the  criticism — critical,  but  not  dogmatic,  the  system  would  be 
complete,  and  philosophy  at  its  utmost  limit. 

Such  ultimately  was  the  thought  which  inspired  Ficiite  and  his  fol- 
lowers. 

Fichte  announced  this  at  the  introduction  of  his  doctrines  ;  he  sought 
for  the  most  absolute  principle,  the  absolutely  unconditional  principle  of 
human  cognition,  a  principle  that  could  be  neither  deduced  nor  demon- 
strated. 

Every  act  of  consciousness  is  a  fact  given  in  experience,  an  interior 
phenomenon,  accidental  as  an  actual  fact,  or,  as  they  say  in  Germany,  an 
empirical  determination  of  the  me.     I  suffer  a  pain,  I  see  a  rose,  there  is 
4 


2(l  GERMAV  PIIILOSOPHV 

here  no  principle ;  and  could  we  fix  by  reflection  or  find  again  by  mem- 
ory, the  first  in  point  of  time  of  such  facts  as  these,  it  would  be  a  be- 
ginning but  not  a  principle.  But  if  there  was  in  that  act,  in  every  act, 
or  in  general  in  acts  of  consciousness,  any  thing,  even  an  act,  upon  which 
ail  consciousness  might  rest,  which  would  render  all  consciousness  pos- 
sible, that  something,  that  act  might  be  the  principle  sought  for. 

Kant  admitted  nothing  but  a  principle  of  fact,  an  origin,  a  commence- 
ment, experience  (the  sensation  of  Locke  and  of  Condillac.)  Fichte 
penetrated  to  the  very  source  of  that  fact,  he  scrutinized  what  was  there 
concealed,  he  examined,  if  there  were  not  there  something  more  than  a 
phenomenal  modification,  an  accidental  state,  for  example,  a  fundamen- 
tal and  primitive  act,  having  the  character  and  authority  of  an  axiom,  of 
a  verity  certain  in  itself,  in  short,  a  law  that  should  be  as  the  source  and 
title  of  all  cognition.  And  this  is  what  he  thought  he  had  discovered 
by  means  of  liie  following  deduction. 

In  order  to  consider  the  reason  in  an  absolute  manner,  or  in  abstract 
logic,  the  judgment  of  identity  A=A  is  admitted  as  absolutely  certain. 
Of  this  no  proof  is  either  given  or  demanded.  It  is  absolute  truth. — 
Observe,  this  does  not  affirm  an  existence,  it  only  affirms  a  law.  It  says, 
that  if  a  thing  is,  it  is  that  which  it  is.  This  is  a  proposition  certain  in 
its  form. 

Observe  again,  that  in  this  judgment  A  as  a  subject  is  hypothetical, 
A  as  a  predicate  is  certain.  We  do  not  know  whether  A  exists,  but  if 
it  does  exist  it  is  A.  Thus  the  proposition  passes  from  the  problematic 
to  the  categorical ;  in  the  language  of  Fichte,  the  first  A  is  supposed, 
the  second  is  posited.  The  bond  that  unites  the  one  to  the  other,  the 
bond  that  is  the  essence  of  the  judgment,  where  is  it .''  whence  does  it 
come  .''  Evidently  from  tlie  mind  that  judges.  It  is  this  that  Fichte  ex- 
presses in  saying  that  the  connection  X  is  given  to  the  me  by  the  me  it- 
self This  A  as  the  subject  is  posited  hypothetically ;  A,  as  the  predi- 
cate, is  posited  absolutely  in  the  me  by  the  me.  In  other  words,  if  I 
have  A,  I  judge  that  it  is  A  ;  in  still  other  extremes,  if  I  think  A,  I  think 
of  it  as  A,  or,  in  fine,  I  think  that  the  A  which  I  think  is  the  A  which 
I  think.  Thus  A  as  subject,  A  as  attribute,  and  the  connection  X  which 
unites  them,  all  suppose  the  me;  and  the  identity,  which  according  to 
logic  is  in  the  judgment,  has  for  its  support,  in  some  sort,  the  identity  of 
the  me,  in  such  a  way  that  A=  A  includes  and  implies  me=me,  or  I  am  ; 
and  that  proposition,  unconditional  in  its  form,  A=A  is  still  more  un- 
conditional in  its  contents ;  for  the  me  is  thus  necessarily  given  by  the 
connection  X  which  connection  X  is  necessary  in  itself.  Thus  in  say- 
ing A=A  we  announce  a  proposition  absolute  in  its  form,  and  as  this 


FICHTE.  27 

proposition  absolutely  implies  the  contents  A=A,  the  second  proposi- 
tion is,  like  the  first,  absolute,  and  it  is  in  its  contents  as  in  its  form. 

It  may  be  said  that  I  am  is  only  a  fact  of  the  empirical  conscious- 
ness, but  as  A=A  is  an  absolute  truth,  /  ohj,  or  me=me  (the  proposi- 
tion upon  which  X  is  founded,  which  X  is  the  necessary  identity  of 
A^A)  is  likewise  a  proposition  absolutely  certain. 

Thus  then  /  am  ;  the  me  posits  the  me ;  the  me  posits  itself.  Ev- 
ery judgment,  we  know,  is  an  act  of  the  human  mind.  The  judgment 
I  am  is  the  primitive  act,  the  pure  act;  to  posit  oneself  constitutes  the 
pure  activity;  and  as  /  is  in  the  me  and  by  the  me  just  as  well  as  am, 
as  in  me=me,  the  first  me,  posited  in  general  in  and  by  the  me,  implies 
the  me  just  as  much  as  the  second  me  whicli  is  posited  absolutely  in 
and  by  the  me ;  it  foUovvs  that  we  can  equally  say,  that  the  me  is  be- 
cause it  posits  itself,  or,  it  posits  itself  because  it  is.  The  me  then  ex- 
ists absolutely  and  necessarily  by  the  me.  Before  it  was  conscious  of 
itself,  the  me  was  not  at  all ;  by  the  me,  to  posit  itself,  or  to  be,  are  iden- 
tical expressions. 

By  merely  changing  the  expression  of  that  deduction  and  rendering 
it  a  little  more  scientific,  I  believe  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  in  it  any- 
thing more  than  the  Cogilo  of  Descartes,  or  that  very  simple  expres- 
sion ;  the  idea  (sentiment)  of  existence  is  inscparal)le  from  personal  ex- 
istence. Between  this  reduction  and  me=:mc,  there  can  be  oidy  the  dif- 
ference of  a  physical  law  of  nature  and  its  algebraic  expression. 

We  cannot  here  give  a  full  analysis  of  the  other  two  principles  which 
Fichte  added  to  the  first.  We  may  just  observe  however,  that  the  sec- 
ond principle  consists  in  this,  that  the  me  which  posits  the  me  oppo- 
ses the  not-me,  that  is  to  say,  that  the  negative  identical  proposition  be- 
ing as  absolutely  certain  as  the  affirmative,  as  it  is  just  as  true  that  what 
is  not  A  is  not  A,  — A=  — A^  as  it  is  true  that  A=^A,  not-mc  is  equal 
to  not-me;  but  as  in  that  proposition  the  me  is  still  necessary,  the  prim- 
itive and  pure  act  re-appears  in  all  its  eniireness.  Notwilhsianding  tliis 
we  are  presented  with  this  singular  contradiction,  that  the  negative  of 
the  me  is  supported  by  the  affirmative  of  the  me.  And,  in  fact,  fhat 
which  is  not  me  is  not  me  supposes  that  me  is  me.  But  tliere  the  me  sup- 
poses the  not  me  and  posits  it,  and  it  does  not  suppose  it  or  posit  it  hy- 
pothetically  but  in  itself.  Thus  in  denying,  it  affirms  it  In  its  con- 
tents the  proposition  virtually  denies  the  me,  but  affirms  it  in  its  form. 
It  is  conditional  in  its  contents,  absolute  it  its  form.  The  not-me  is  not 
the  me,  is  a  proposition  in  which  the  me  posits  itself  in  the  me  and  op- 
poses itself  in  the  not-me.  How  can  it  be  that  it  establishes  itself  at 
the  very  moment  when  it  annihilates  itself,  because  to  posit  the  not-me 


2S  GERMAN  PHILOSOPHY 

seems  to  be  to  annihilate  the  me;  but  it  only  annihilates  it  in  so  far  as 
it  posits  the  not-me.  In  one  word,  the  me  denies  and  affirms  itself,  or 
posits  and  opposes  itself  by  its  self-limitation. 

As  the  me  is  primitively  posited  only  in  an  absolute  manner,  there 
cannot  primitively  be  any  contrary  posited  in  it  but  what  is  opposed  to 
tlie  me. — A= — A,  or  — A  is  not  ^A,  is  absolute  in  its  form,  and  conse- 
quently it  is  the  same  as  this  proposition,  the  not-me  is  not  the  me. — 
But  as  that  principle  is,  in  its  contents  and  matter,  deduced  from  the  for- 
mer, it  is  not  in  that  connexion  absolute ;  it  may  be  thus  expressed  :  the 
not-me  is  opposed  to  the  me ;  in  other  words,  the  me  posits  itself  and 
opposes  the  not-me. 

But  here  there  is  a  contradiction.  The  me  destroys  what  it  has  crea- 
ted ;  it  posits  itself,  and  in  opposing  the  not-me,  we  may  say  that  it  de- 
poses itself.  In  so  far  as  the  not-me  is  posited,  the  me  is  not;  but  the 
not-me  is  posited  in  the  me,  for  all  opposition  supposes  the  identity  of 
the  me  which  posits  and  which  opposes,  that  is  to  say,  that  it  cannot 
take  place  but  in  so  far  as  a  me  is  posited  in  an  identical  consciousness. 
How  can  we  conceive  of  A  and  — A,  being  and  not-being,  reality  and 
negation  co-existing  together  without  destroying  each  other  reciprocally? 
This  cannot  be  but  upon  the  condition  that  they  destroy  each  other  in 
so  far  as  is  necessary  to  their  co-existence,  tliat  is  to  say,  in  so  far  as 
they  limit  each  other.  To  limit  a  thing  is  not  to  destroy  it,  except  in 
part;  tliis  supposes  the  thing  to  be  divisil)le;  thus  the  me,  just  as  the 
not-me,  is  posited  as  divisible.  This  is  the  third  principle,  which  may 
be  thus  expressed  ;  the  nic  and  the  not-me  arc  both  posited  by  the  me 
as  reci})rocally  limiting  each  other.  It  is  this  tliird  principle  tliat  recon- 
ciles the  two  former,  which  without  it  would  reciprocally  destroy  each 
other. 

^i'his  principle,  unconditional  in  its  contents,  for  it  gives  an  absolute 
solution  which  rests  upon  the  reason  itself,  is  derived,  so  far  as  its  form 
is  concerned,  for  it  is  determined  by  the  two  preceding  principles. 

The  general  cognition  resulting  from  the  three  principles  may  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  following  formula :  "In  the  me  I  oppose  to  the  divisible 
me  a  divisible  not-me."  No  piiilosophy  according  to  Ficlitc,  can  ascend 
higher  than  this  formula. 

Upon  this  we  must  at  present  make  two  observations.  The  first  is, 
that  the  design  of  completing  the  critical  philosophy  systematically  by 
a  principle,  has  been  executed  imperfectly ;  for,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
laws  of  pure  logic  are  there  pre-supposed  and  are  the  guaranty  for  the 
whole  of  that  deduction  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  laws  of  logic 
we  have  the  use  of  certain  fundamental  notions,  such  as  activity,  reality, 


LIGHT-PAIMING.  29 

limitation  or  divisibility,  that  is  to  say,  at  least  two  or  three  of  the  cate- 
gories of  Kant.  In  so  far  as  the  reason  is  in  possession  of  all  these 
ideas,  it  is  here  already  knowing  (in  the  possession  of  knowledge ;)  the 
^'■Doctrine  of  knowledge''''  [ WiHsenschaftslehre,]  as  Fichte  called  his 
philosophy,  thus  in  part  pre-supposes  knowledge,  but  does  not  give  it 
in  its  whole  extent. 

Jn  the  second  place,  this  whole  deduction  supposes  not  only  certain 
ideas,  but  still  more  a  fact,  the  fact  of  consciousness,  and  accords,  by  im- 
plication, to  that  fact  the  authority  of  a  first  fact  which  renders  all  the 
rest  possible.  It  is,  therefore,  in  the  last  analysis,  this  fact  which  is  the 
principle  sought  for.  In  other  words,  the  principle  is  no  other  than  the 
principle  of  all  psychology,  or  the  principle  of  Descartes.  So  much 
ado  was  not  necessary  for  such  a  discovery. 

All  the  novelty  is  in  the  rigorously  abstract,  or,  to  speak  correctly, 
algebraic  form  given  to  the  exposition  of  the  fact.  This  form  has  its 
value  ;  it  may  be  useful  to  constitute  the  science  as  an  abstract  science; 
it  may  even  serve  for  the  discovery  of  some  ulterior  developments. — 
But,  at  the  bottom,  science  has,  in  all  this,  made  no  progress,  and  the 
critical  philosophy  has  not  filled  up  any  of  its  gaps.  Fichte  only  ex- 
plains what  Kant  implies. 


LIGHT-PAINTING. 

The  last  quarter  of  a  century  seems  to  stand  pre-eminent  for  the  dis- 
coveries in  Physical  Science,  and  their  numerous  practical  applications 
to  the  ornamental  and  useful  purposes  of  life,  which  have  been  made 
during  that  period.  The  impondcrahles^  heat,  light,  and  electiicity  being 
in  consequence  of  their  intangibility,  but  imperfectly  known  as  to  their 
more  recondite  properties  and  laws,  have  afforded  the  richest  acquisi- 
tions. Among  these  may  be  enumerated  Plwtography^  or  the  process 
of  making  drawings  and  taking  copies  of  natural  and  artificial  objects 
by  the  agency  of  light. 

It  has  been,  for  some  time,  known  that  light  exerted  an  important  in- 
fluence in  producing  chemical  changes  in  many  metallic  compounds,  in 
virtue  of  which  their  color  was  either  deepened  or  discharged.  Thus 
the  nitrate  and  chloride  of  silver  were  known  to  be  blackened  when  ex- 
posed to  the  light  of  the  sun.  The  nitrate  has,  for  a  long  time,  been 
used  as  the  basis  of  indelible  ink  for  marking  linen  ;  the  writing  being 
immediately  exposed  to  a  strong  light  or  the  heat  of  a  warm  flat-iron^ 
during  which  exposure  it  became  intensely  black.  Early  in  this  centu- 
ry, Wedgewood  and  Davy  obtained  tolerably  correct  copies  of  objects 


30  LIGHT-PAINTING. 

paitly  transparent  and  partly  opake,  such  as  the  wings  of  insects,  leaves 
&c.,  by  transmitting  the  light  through  them  upon  paper,  upon  which  a 
weak  solution  of  the  nitrate  of  silver  had  been  brushed.  The  paper 
opposite  the  opake  parts  remained  white,  whilst  that  opposite  the  trans- 
parent parts  was  blackened.  But  the  difficulty  was,  that  unless  these 
copies  vv^ere  kept  in  the  dark  the  whole  paper  was  blackened  and  the 
copy  lost. 

Ko  further  piactical  use  was  made  of  the  knowledge  of  these  effects 
of  light,  until  about  eight  or  nine  years  since,  when  Daguerre,  a  French- 
man, announced  the  interesting  discovery  of  a  process  by  which  perma- 
nent copies  of  material  objects  could  be  taken  on  the  surface  of  a  plate 
of  silver.  Tbe  secret  of  a  process  so  wonderful,  and  likely  to  prove 
so  useful  in  its  applications,  was  at  once  purchased  by  the  French  Gov- 
ernment for  a  large  sum  and  with  true  liberality,  made  known  as  the 
property  of  the  world.  The  art  as  made  known  by  him,  and  which 
has  been  made  to  bear  the  very  awkward  name  of  '•'Daguerreotype," 
was  brought  to  a  wonderful  degree  of  perfection.  The  plate,  which 
might  be  one  of  copper  thinly  coated  witli  silver,  was  well  cleaned  and 
polished,  first  with  tripoli  powiler  and  alcohol,  and  then  with  rouge  ;  it 
was  next  exposed  for  a  few  moments  to  the  vapor  of  iodine  contained 
in  a  close  wooden  box  having  an  opening  in  the  top  of  the  size  of  the 
plate ;  when  it  had  acquired  a  golden  yellow  color,  which  was  owing 
to  the  formation  of  a  very  thin  film  of  the  iodide  of  silver,  it  was  trans- 
ferred, carefully  protected  from  the  light,  to  a  Camera  Obscura,  whose 
focus  was  previously  arranged  so  as  to  throw  the  image  of  the  object 
to  be  copied  precisely  at  the  place  which  the  plate  should  occupy;  and 
after  remaining  there  for  about  five  minute."!,  less  or  more  according  to 
the  strength  of  illumination,  it  was  transferred  to  a  box  containing  mer- 
cury^ to  whose  vapors  it  was  exposed  for  a  short  time  until  the  picture 
appeared..  The  action  of  the  light  alone  is  not  sufficient,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  nitrate  of  silver  above  mentioned,  to  make  the  picture  to  appear 
upon  the  coaling  of  the  iodide.  The  light,  it  seems,  is  not  able  entirely 
to  decompose  the  iodide,  for  no  iodine  is  set  free  in  the  Camera ;  but 
merely  to  produce  in  it  a  certain  change,  v^hich,  by  the  subsequent  aid 
of  the  mercury,  is  completed.  The  mercury,  by  its  attraction,  with- 
draws the  iodine,  and  unites  with  the  silver  of  that  portion  of  the  io- 
dide of  silver  acted  upon  by  the  light,  forming  with  the  latter  a  white 
amalgam  of  silver.  Hence  those  parts  of  the  plate  most  exposed  to 
the  light  are  whitened  with  this  amalgam,  those  less  exposed  are  less 
whitened,  and  those  not  exposed  at  all  have  merely  the  iodine  with- 
drawn and  the  dark  polished  surface  of  .silver  restored.     These  pictures 


MGHT-PAINTING.  31 

are  therefore  positive,  that  is,  the  lights  are  light  and  the  shades  are  dark. 

The  Daguerreotype  as  at  first  presented,  on  account  of  the  great 
length  of  time  required  for  light  to  act  upon  the  plate  in  the  Camera,  was 
adapted  only  to  the  taking  of  copies  or  pictures  of  fixed  inanimate  ob- 
jects, "^rhe  honor  of  first  successfully  applying  it  in  this  manner,  as 
well  as  of  many  important  improvements  in  making  the  plate  more  sen- 
sitive &c.,  it  seems  is  due  to  Prof.  Draper  of  New  York.  The  plate  is 
rendered  incomparably  more  sensitive  than  it  was  in  the  original  pro- 
cess, by  its  exposure  for  a  few  seconds,  after  being  iodized,  to  the  va- 
pors of  the  chloride  of  iodine,  or  the  mixture  of  this  combination  with 
bromine,  until  it  receives  a  purplish  tint  And  in  order  to  render  the 
picture  unalterable  by  the  further  action  of  tlie  light  it  is  washed  with 
a  weak  solution  of  the  hypo-sulphite  of  soda,  which  removes  the  whole 
of  the  iodine  from  the  portion  of  the  plate  not  yet  acted  on  by  the  light 
and  exposes  the  original  polish.  Finally,  to  render  it  permanent,  it  is, 
whilst  yet  wet  from  the  previous  operation,  washed  with  a  dilute  solu- 
tion of  the  chloride  of  gold,  which  leaves  a  very  thin  coating  of  that 
metal  all  over  the  surface,  which  effectually  protects  it  against  all  further 
atmospheric  influences. 

It  can  now  be  readily  understood  why,  when  the  plate  is  left  too 
long  in  the  Camera,  the  picture  should  be  "overdone,"  or  become  uni- 
formly pale  and  destitute  of  expression.  The  shades  have  become  lights. 
On  the  contrary,  those  which  have  not  been  sufiiciently  long  exposed  to 
the  light,  though  somewhat  too  dark  to  be  accurate  representations  of 
the  color  of  the  original,  yet  present  the  lights  and  shades  in  a  beautiful 
manner,  and  give  expression  and  life  to  the  countenance.  It  is  a  matter 
of  surprize  that  so  many  persons  should  prefer  those  cadaverous  pic- 
tures, which  look  like  no  body,  to  those  which,  though  a  shade  darker, 
are  both  better  likenesses  and  look  like  something  that  is  yet  in  the  land 
of  the  living. 

These  likenesses,  when  taken  by  skillful  artists,  are  absolutely  cor- 
rect, presenting  every  feature,  spot,  or  wrinkle  with  perfect  accuracy  as 
will  appear  when  they  are  closely  examined  with  a  magnifier.  They 
may  be  recognized  in  the  most  distant  lands,  and  as  long  as  memory 
lasts.  They  are  therefore  invaluable  "keepsakes,"  and  mutual  friends 
cannot  offer  each  other  a  greater  gratification  for  so  small  an  expendi- 
ture of  money. 

But  no  less  accurate  and  beautiful  are  me  pictures  taken  by  this  art 
of  views,  landscapes,  and  inanimate  objects,  and  the  most  interesting 
and  valuable  practical  results  are  obtained  by  its  application  in  this  di- 
rection. 


32  lk;iit-painti\g. 

But  as  these  pictures  exist  only  on  the  surface  of  the  silver  plate,  it 
cannot  be  used  in  this  state  to  multiply  copies  by  printing.  Galvanic 
electricity  has  been  used  with  tolerable  success  for  the  purpose  of  etch- 
ing the  lines  deeper  and  fitting  the  plate  foi  the  press,  so  that  with  re- 
gard to  such  designs  it  has  been  beautifully  said  that  there  were  "drawn 
by  light,  and  engraved  by  lightning.  " 

Mr.  H.  Fox  Talbot,  who  disputed  with  Daguerre,  the  honor  of  the 
original  invention  of  light-pictures,  instead  of  confining  himself,  as  the 
latter  did,  to  their  fixation  upon  metallic  plates,  endeavored  to  produce 
them  on  paper.  He  tried  various  metallic  compounds,  both  singly  and 
variously  combined,  for  the  purpose  of  producing  a  paper  sufllciently 
sensitive  and  easily  managable.  His  labors  led  to  some  very  interesting 
and  useful  results,  an  account  of  some  of  which  he  published  in  1839. 
In  the  1st  vol.  of  this  Journal,  p.  17,  a  correspondent  has  given  us  an 
interesting  account  of  the  application  of  the  Bi-chromate  of  Potassa  to 
the  copying  of  prints,  music,  embroidered  patterns,  leaves,  &c.,  and  of 
which  he  has  kindly  presented  some  specimens  to  the  Linn^an  Cabinet. 
It  iloes  not,  however,  appear  that  any  metallic  compounds,  except  those 
of  silver,  have  been  used  with  much  advantage  in  either  of  the  branches 
of  light-painting. 

Mr.  Talbot  has  at  length,  succeeded  in  preparing  a  sensitive  paper, 
which  seems  to  leave  nothing  wanting  for  the  production,  with  ease,  of 
the  most  admirable  sun-pictures  or  "  Talbottypes  "  as  they  are  called. 
A  late  number  of  the  "London  Art  Union  "  is  embellished  with  a  sun- 
picture,  which  is  a  view  of  the  chief  place  in  the  city  of  Orleans,  France, 
in  which  the  shadow  of  the  houses  and  square,  the  reading  on  the  signs 
of  the  houses,  and  the  people  and  vehicles  in  the  streets  &c.  can  be  seen 
depicted  with  the  most  minute  exactness.  With  this  extremely  sensi- 
tive paper  pictures  of  all  objects,  animate  and  inanimate,  can  be  taken 
with  as  much  ease,  fidelity  and  beauty  as  with  the  Daguerreotype.  The 
pictures  are  however,  ?ie^a/if(?,  that  is  the  lights  are  shades  and  the  shades 
lights  j  but  this  can  easily  be  corrected  by  taking  a  copy  of  the  original 
— all  copies  of  the  first  will  be  positive.  A  great  advantage  of  the  Tal- 
bottype  is  that  the  pictures  are  on  paper,  and  can  be  bound  up  and  used 
as  engravings  and  prints. 

Without  going  into  a  detailed  account  of  the  method  of  preparing 
Talbot's  paper,  which  he  calls  "Kalotype"  paper,  or  taking  pictures  on 
it,  it  will  perhaps,  be  proper  to  make  a  general  statement  concerning 
them.  Good  writing  paper  is  washed  on  one  side  with  nitrate  of  silver 
moderately  diluted,  dried  and  then  immersed  in  a  dilute  solution  of  io- 
dide of  potassum  and  again  dried.     When  the  paper  is  required  for  use. 


ASTRONOMICAf.  DISCOVERIES,  33 

it  is  brushed  over  with  a  solution  of  the  gallo-nitrate  of  silver  in  acetic 
acid,  formed  by  adding  to  acetic  acid  nitrate  of  silver  and  gallic  acid. — 
The  whole  of  the  preparation  of  the  paper  must  be  conducted  in  the  dark 
or  by  candle-light.  This  paper  may  be  used  after  being  carefully  dried  by 
gentle  warmth  or  whilst  it  is  yet  moist.  It  must  be  carefully  kept  from 
the  light,  for  even  the  light  of  the  moon  makes  a  sensible  impression 
upon  it.  When  used,  it  is  introduced,  for  a  few  seconds  into  the  cam- 
era, as  in  the  Daguerreotype ;  then,  as  the  image  is  not  yet  visible,  it  is 
brushed  over  again  with  the  gallo-nitrate  of  silver,  and  warmed  before 
a  fire,  when  the  picture  will  immediately  begin  to  appear  on  the  part  ex- 
posed to  the  image  of  the  camera.  To  prevent  the  other  part  of  the 
paper  from  blackening  and  to  fix  the  picture,  it  is  dipped  into  a  solution 
of  the  bromide  of  potassium,  which  removes  all  the  salt  of  silver  which 
has  not  been  altered  by  the  light. 


ASTRONOMICAL   DISCOVERIES. 

BY  DANIEL  KIRKWOOD,  OF  LANCASTER,  PA. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  but  few,  even  of  the 
learned,  had  adopted  the  system  of  astronomy  taught  by  Copernicus ; 
and  to  these,  no  more  than  seven  planetary  bodies  were  known ;  viz.. 
Mercury,  Venus,  the  Earth,  the  Moon,  Mars,  Jupiter  and  Saturn.  Mad 
the  most  enthusiastic  astronomer  of  that  day  been  told  that  in  less  than 
two  centuries  and  a  half  this  number  should  be  quadrupled,  he  would 
doubtless  have  regarded  the  idea  as  visionary  and  extravagant.  Such, 
however,  has  been  the  fact.  Aided  by  modern  instruments,  we  can  now 
number  thirteen  primary  and  eighteen  secondary  planets.  In  view  of 
these  mighty  achievements  of  science,  who  will  presume  to  say  how 
much  the  restless  energies  of  the  hnman  mind  may  yet  unfold,  even 
within  the  limits  of  our  own  system,  in  a  century  or  two  to  come  ? 

On  the  8th  of  January,  1610,  Galileo,  "the  Columbus  of  the 
Heavens,"  discovered  the  satellites  of  Jupiter.  This  was  his  first  great 
discovery  by  means  of  his  newly  invented  telescope.  So  great,  at  that 
time,  was  the  geneial  prejudice  against  the  Copernican  system,  that  some 
of  its  opponents,  determined  to  reject  whatever  might  be  regarded  as 
militating  against  their  own  views  of  the  universe,  even  denied  the  truth 
of  the  revelation  made  by  tlie  Tuscan  glass,  thus  refusing  to  admit  the 
evidence  of  the  sense  of  sight.  The  following  is  a  specimen  of  the  logic 
by  which  Galileo  was  opposed:  "There  are  seven  windows  given  to 
animals  in  the  domicil  of  the  head,  through  which  the  air  is  admitted 
to  the  tabernacle  of  the  body,  to  enlighten,  to  warm,  and  nourish  it; 
5  '  •       ' 


34  ASTRONOMICAL  DISCOVERIES. 

which  windows  are  the  principal  parts  of  the  niicrocositj  or  little  world, 
two  nostrils,  two  eyes,  two  ears,  and  one  mouth, — so  in  the  heavens,  as 
in  macrocosm  or  great  world,  there  are  two  favorable  stars  (Jupiter  and 
Venus,)  two  unpropitious  (Mars  and  Saturn,)  two  luminaries  (the  Sun 
and  Moon,)  and  Mercury  alone  undecided  and  indifTerent.  From  which 
and  many  other  phenomena  of  nature,  such  as  the  seven  metals.  Sec, 
wliich  it  were  tedious  to  enumerate,  we  gather  that  the  number  of  plan- 
ets is  necessarily  seven.  Moreover,  the  satellites  are  invisible  to  the  na- 
ked eve,  and  therefore  can  exercise  no  influence  over  the  Earth,  and 
therefore  would  be  useless,  and  therefore  do  not  exist.  Besides,  as  well 
the  .lews  and  other  ancient  nations  as  modern  Europeans  have  adopted 
tlie  division  of  the  week  into  seven  days,  and  have  named  them  from 
the  seven  planets ;  now,  if  we  increase  the  number  of  planets,  this 
whole  system  falls  to  the  ground  ! ! !  "  * 

The  author  of  the  preceding  was  no  other  than  Francesco  Sizzi,  a 
Tuscan  astromomer,  who  sustained,  in  his  day,  no  inconsiderable  repu- 
tation. 

Between  the  dale  of  this  important  achievement  of  the  telescope  and 
the  commencement  of  the  present  century,  were  discovered,  at  different 
periods  and  by  different  astronomers,  the  two  rings  and  seven  satellites 
of  Saturn,  tlie  planet  Uranus,  and  his  six  attendant  moons.  Within  the 
first  seven  years  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  four  Asteroids,  Vesta, 
Judo,  Ceres  and  Pallas  were  first  seen  ;  and,  finally,  a  fifth,  which  has 
been  called  Astrasa,  was  discovered  by  Prof.  Hencke,  of  Dresden,  on  the 
8th  of  December,  1845. 

But  the  present  year,  1846,  has  been  rendered  memorable  by  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  triumphs  of  modern  science.  This  is  nothing  less 
than  the  discovery  of  a  primary  planet,  of  great  magnitude,  revolving 
far  beyond  the  orbit  of  Uranus.  The  probability  of  the  existence  of 
such  a  body  had,  indeed,  been  suggested  by  several  writers  before  M.  Le 
Verrier,  the  distinguished  discoverer,  commenced  his  investigations.  By 
others,  however,  it  had  been  decidedly  maintained  that  the  orbit  of  Ur- 
anus was,  in  reality,  the  limit  of  our  system.  "We  have,"  says  Dr. 
Lardncr,  "  direct  proofs  of  a  very  cogent  character  in  favor  of  the  posi- 
tion that  Ilersciiel  is  the  last  and  most  remote  member  of  the  solar  .sys- 
tem, "t  't  appears,  however,  that  the  reasons  assigned  by  the  learned 
lecturer  for  this  conclusion,  were  not  supported  by  tlie  facts  of  the  case. 

M.  Le  Verrier  was  induced  to  engage  in  his  calculations  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  numerous  perturbations   had  been  observed  in  the  mo- 

*  Drinkwater's  Life  of  Galileo,  as  quoted  by  Prof.  Nicfiol. 

t  Lardiier's  Lectures,  Vol.  I.  p.  255. 


ASTRONOMICAL  UISCOYKRIES.  35 

tions  of  Uranus  which  could  not  be  referred  to  the  disturbing  influence 
of  Jupiter  and  Saturn.  This  want  of  agreement  between  theory  and 
observation  was  attributed  by  some  to  errors  in  the  mathematical  pro- 
cesses by  which  astronomers  have  determined  the  longitude  which,  ac- 
cording to  theory,  Uranus  ought  to  have;  but  M.  Le  V.,  after  a  rigid  ex- 
amination, found  those  calculations  correct,  and  hence  concluded  that 
Uranus  must  be  exposed  to  the  influence  of  an  exterior  planet.  He  now 
conceived  the  bold  and  original  design  of  determining  solely  by  mathe- 
matical investigations  what  the  position  and  mass  of  this  body  must  ne- 
cessarily be  in  order  to  account  for  those  mysterious  perturbations. 

The  planet  Uranus,  before  it  was  shown  to  be  a  member  of  the  so- 
lar system,  had  been  frequently  seen  by  Flamstead,  Lcmonnier,  and 
other  astronomers,  by  whom  it  had  been  classed  with  the  fixed  stars. — 
Le  Verrier  made  use  of  all  these  lecorded  observations,  comparing  the 
places  of  the  planet  thence  deduced,  with  those  which  it  ought  to  have 
had  by  theory  at  the  same  epochs,  hi  like  manner  he  availed  himself 
of  all  the  observations  of  the  planet,  made  at  Paris  and  Greenwich,  from 
1781  to  184-5.  This  Herculean  task  having  been  completed,  the  result 
was  submitted  to  the  Paris  Academy  of  Sciences,  on  the  oOth  of  June, 
1846,  in  a  paper  which,  at  the  lime,  attracted  much  attention.  But,  al- 
though the  utmost  confidence  was  expressed  by  the  author  in  the  cor- 
rectness of  his  deductions;  although  the  elements  of  the  orbit  of  his 
unseen  planet  were  given,  and  the  place  in  which  it  was  to  be  looked 
for  designated  ;  perhaps  few,  if  any,  expected  his  calculations  to  be  ver- 
ified by  observation. 

When  the  existence  of  the  new  planet  was  announced,  its  position 
was  such  that  it  could  not  be  ob.served ;  but  about  two  months  subse- 
quently M.  Le  Verrier  by  letter  requested  Dr.  Galle,  of  Berlin,  to  exam- 
ine with  his  telescope,  the  portion  of  the  heavens  in  which  the  planet, 
as  he  said,  was  situated  ;  and  on  the  23d  of  September,  the  Doctor  actu- 
ally discovered,  in  the  region  assigned  by  Le  Verrier,  a  star  of  the  eiglilii 
magnitude  not  marked  on  the  map.  This  he  immediately  suspected  to 
be  the  looked-for  planet,  and,  on  the  following  evening  his  suspicion 
was  confirmed  by  observing  that  it  had  moved  from  its  former  place,  so 
that  its  motion,  both  in  direction  and  distance,  was  precisely  such  as  was 
required  by  the  elements  of  the  planetary  orbit  computed  by  Le  Ver- 
rier. It  was  observed  in  London,  on  the  night  of  September  29th,  and 
has  since  been  seen  at  the  different  Observatories  in  our  own  country. 

The  distance  of  the  new  planet  from  the  sun  is  thought  to  be  about 
twic'c  that  of  Uranus.  According  to  Bode"'s  law,  it  would  be  rather 
greater,  or  3,086,000,000  milea,  and  this  is  probably  very  nearly  the  true 


36  LOOSE  LEAVES 

'iislance.  Consequently,  its  period  of  revolution,  found  by  the  third 
law  of  Kepler,  is  about  two  hunch-ed  and  forty-two  years.  If  therefore, 
the  whole  Solar  System  were  arranged  as  it  now  exists,  at  the  period  as- 
signed by  Moses  for  the  creation  of  our  world,  this  distant  member  has 
completed  no  more  than  twenty-four  annual  periods  since  its  creation. 
But  if  the  Nebular  Hypothesis  proposed  by  La  Place,  be  the  true  cos- 
mogany — if  the  planets  have  been  formed  out  of  nebulous  matter  thrown 
of]'  from  the  former  atmosphere  of  the  sun,  in  consequence  of  its  grad- 
ual condensation — what  countless  circuits  must  this  ancient  world  have 
performed  before  the  birth  of  even  old  Uranus  ! 

The  apparent  diameter  of  the  sun  at  the  distance  of  this  body  is  a 
fraction  less  than  fifty  seconds,  or  about  seven  seconds  less  than  the 
greatest  apparent  diameter  of  Venus  as  seen  from  the  Earth.  The  de- 
gree of  light  and  heat  which  it  receives  from  the  sun  is  about  one  fifteen 
hundredth  part  of  that  enjoyed  by  the  Earth  ;  but  even  this  quantity  of 
light  is  two  hundred  times  greater  than  that  of  our  full  moon. 

This  distant  globe  is  said  to  have  an  apparent  diameter  of  nearly 
three  seconds;  hence  its  volume  must  be  considerably  greater  than  that 
of  Uranus.  M.  Le  Verrier  estimates  its  mass  at  more  than  twice  that  of 
tJie  latter  planet. 

Dr.  Galle  proposes  to  call  the  new  planet  Janus,  in  consideration 
of  its  being  situated  upon  the  confines  of  the  Solar  System.  To  this 
M.  Le  Verrier  objects,  inasmuch  as  the  future  may  possibly  show  that 
the  limits  of  tiie  system  have  not  yet  been  explored.  He  says,  however 
lie  will  acquiesce  in  any  other  name,  as  jyeplune^  for  example,  which 
may  be  agreed  upon  by  astronomers. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.  IL 

BY  J.  G.  M. 

^omc  fiiiiiiii  (German  llaturalists. 

"Sie  sind  llerr  Dr.  M ,  aus  B :  nicht  wahr.'" 

"  Das  ist  mcin  Name  —  aber  wie  wissen  Sie  es  r  " 

"Ich  habe  einen  Brief  fi'ir  Sie,  und  habe  Sie  ervvartet  —  treten  Sie 
geHilligst  herein,  es  wird  meineni  Vater  unaussptechlich  freuen  Sie  zu 
schen." 

This  short  and  hurried  conversation  took  place  between  mc  and  a 
young  man  in  the  door  way  of  a  large  house  in  Nuremberg  on  the  6th  of 
.lunc.  I  sought  out  the  dwelling  as  soon  as  I  had  become  fairly  domi- 
ciliated in  my  hotel  and  on  ringing  the  house  bell,  the  yoimg  man  made 
jiis  aj)pcarance.     1  had  travelled  two  hundred  miles  to  see  its  occupant 


FROM  IMV  JOURNAL.  37 

and  anticipated  the  richest  zoological  treat.  For  five  years  I  had  cor- 
responded with  him,  and  during  all  that  time  had  made  exchanges  with 
him  of  shells,  insects,  books,  and  minerals.  1  had  read  his  writings? 
and  admired  his  numerous  zoological  engravings,  much  more  than 
the  pictures  of  a  gaudy  annual.  1  walked  up  stairs  and  entering  a 
room,  I  saw  advancing  towards  me  an  old  man,  apparently  of  about  sev- 
enty ;  his  head  was  bald,  but  his  .step  was  firm  and  elastic ;  his  eye  was 
undimmed  and  his  face  un wrinkled  ;  he  rapidly  approached  me  with 
both  hands  extended  and  gave  me  a  real,  hearty,  German  welcome.  [1 
never  could  become  accustomed  to  that  German  kissmg  salutation.  Jt 
suits  well  enough  for  ladies,  but  for  two  gentlemen  and  they  often  with 
enormous  mustaches,  to  be  hugging  and  kissing  each  other  did  at  first 
seem  to  be  outre.]  This  was  John  Jacob  Sturm.,  who  for  fifty  years  has 
been  a  zoological  engraver,  author,  printer  and  publisher.  His  name  is 
known  wherever  entomological  books  are  read,  for  it  frequently  occurs 
in  all  publications  relating  to  that  science.  He  is  entomologist,  orni- 
thologist, mammalogist  and  botanist.  He  has  written,  engraved,  printed 
and  published  books  on  all  these  sciences  and  all  executed  by  his  own 
hand.  He  is  a  plain,  unpretending  old  man,  and  does  not  appear  to  feel 
that  the  scientific  world  is  so  deeply  indebted  to  him.  He  did  not  even 
tell  me  that  the  University  of  Breslau  had  but  recently  conferred  on 
him  a  distinguished  honor  on  the  occasion  of  ihe  Jifticlh  anniversary  of 
his  Zoological  career.  We  talked  of  his  writings  and  his  collections — 
of  our  numerous  exchanges  and  our  correspondence, — of  the  American 
Fauna  and  American  entomology,  in  particular.  I  examined  his  exten- 
sive collections  and  spent  three  days  most  delightfully  in  the  society  of 
this  excellent  old  man. 

But  the  father  is  not  the  only  naturalist  of  the  fomily.  His  two  sons 
are  following  the  footsteps  of  their  celebrated  sire  and  are  fast  rising  to 
eminence.  They  have  lately  published  a  W'Ork  on  birds,  the  figures  of 
which  are  engraved  by  themselves,  which  has  attracted  much  notice  in 
Europe.  These  three  men  live  only  for  Natural  History.  They  all  re- 
side in  the  same  house,  and  the  brothers  have  married  sisters,  so  that 
they  are  altogether  intimately  connected. 

The  sons  have  a  large  museum  which  is  exhibited  for  pay,  and  which 
is  particularly  rich  in  ornithology  They  have  the  largest  collection  of 
liumming  birds,  [  saw  any  where  in  Europe.  One  of  the  sons  has  a 
unique  collection  of  shells,  with  the  living  animal  most  wonderfully 
imitated  in  wax.  They  are  placed  on  a  leaf,  or  bark  of  a  tree,  and  look 
so  natural,  that  you  wait  to  see  the  animal  drag  its  calcareous  domicil 
along.     This  family  of  Sturms  possesses  extraordinary  artistic  talents 


38  LOOSE   LEAVES   &t.C. 

and  long  may  they  live  to  promote  the  study  of  Natural  History  in  their 
own  and  other  lands. 

Near  the  University  edifice  in  Halle,  there  stands  a  fine,  large,  new 
building,  which  I  approached  on  the  afternoon  of  May  9th.  The  ser- 
vant ushered  me  up  stairs,  and  in  the  room  to  the  right,  I  saluted  a  tall, 
•well  formed  gentleman  of  about  thirty-six.  He  had  a  fair,  even  florid 
face,  light  hair,  and  handsome  symmetrical  features.  He  was  dissecting 
the  intestines  of  a  new  species  of  monkey,  which  was  lying  on  the  ta- 
ble. Around  him,  were  scattered  all  the  implements  of  his  profession  ; 
knives,  books,  plates,  drawings,  specimens  and  all  the  accoutrements  of 
the  naturalist.  This  was  Burmeisler,  t\w^  author  and  Professor.  I  men- 
tioned my  name  and  that  was  enough.  He  received  me  most  politely ; 
threw  aside  his  work,  though  the  soft  material,  he  was  dissecting,  was 
already  drying  too  fast.  He  had  sent  me  one  of  his  most  valuable  books 
a  year  before,  and  we  had  exchanged  some  letters.  We  were  soon  in 
an  animated  conversation,  and  an  hour  passed  rapidly  away.  We  in- 
spected the  museum  of  the  University  and  his  magnificent  collection  of 
LumeUlcom  beetles,  of.  whicli  family  alone,  he  has  nearly  four  thousand 
species.  He  has  written  a  work  of  two  large  volumes  on  this  family, 
Avhich  will  add  to  his  already  extensive  reputation.  He  kindly  presented 
me  with  the  second  volume,  the  first  he  had  sent  me  before.  Burmeister 
is  a  man  of  fine  talents,  and  well  deserves,  as  he  expects  soon  to  receive,  a 
higher  promotion  in  University  office  from  his  king.  He  has  one  advan- 
tage over  most  German  professors  :  he  married  a  rich  wife  and  his  fath- 
er-in-law, a  wealthy  merchant  of  Hamburg,  who  has  spent  thousands  of 
dollars  in  collections  of  specimens  and  books  of  Natural  History,  very 
tenderly  cherishes  the  Professor,  of  wliose  talents  and  reputation  he  is 
justly  proud. 

On  the  same  day,  I  wormed  my  way  through  a  narrow,  unclean 
street  of  Halle,  near  the  hotel  of  the  Crown  Prince — [not  the  residence 
of  a  royal  personage,  but  the  tavern  of  that  high  sounding  name]  and 
ascending  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  I  rang  the  bell.  A  young  man  came 
out,  and  before  I  had  time  to  ask  a  question  he  thus  addressed  me: 
"vous  etes  un  etranger,  monsieur,  et  peut-etre  un  mineralogiste ! " — 
"  non,  monsieur,  je  suis  un  entomologiste,  et  je  desire  a  voir  le  Profes- 
seur. "  "Ah!  un  entomologiste;  entrez,  Mons.,  entrez — Je  suis  bien 
heureux  a  vous  voir:  mon  oncle  viendra  bientot. "  He  took  me  for  an 
Englishman  and  presuming  I  did  not  speak  German,  addressed  mc  in 
French,  as  every  educated  Englishman  is  expected  to  understand  that 
language.  1  entered  and  the  young  man  announced  himself  as  Dr. 
Schaum  of  Stettin.     He  is  the  editor  of  an  Entomological  Journal  and 


SPECTRUM   FEMORATUM.  39 

the  author  of  several  valuable  publications  in  this  branch  of  science.— 
He  had  just  returned  from  Paris,  and  had  brought  vvith  him  a  large  part 
of  the  splendid  collection  of  beetles  which  formerly  belonged  to  Gory, 
a  celebrated  Savant  of  France.  Here  was  a  rich  treat — I  enjoyed  it  to 
the  full,  when  presently,  a  tall,  portly,  and  coarse  featured  gentleman 
of  fiflv-five  entered.  This  was  Professor  Ger?nar,  the  man  whom  I 
had  gone  to  see.  For  many  years,  he  has  been  one  of  the  most  dili- 
gent and  successful  cultivators  of  Entomology  in  Europe.  His  books 
and  papers  in  the  various  journals  are  numerous  and  valuable  and  he 
has  described  a  large  number  of  our  American  insects.  He  is  professor 
of  Mineralogy  in  the  University,  but  is  especially  distinguished  in  En- 
tomology. His  nephew,  Dr.  S.  had  presumed  1  came  to  see  the  Profes- 
sor of  Mineralogy^  and  hence  his  first  question,  but  he  soon  found  out 
that  it  was  the  man,  not  of  stones,  but  of  hugs,  to  whom  I  had  come  to 
pay  my  respect. 

(  will  not  tell  how  long  1  remained  with  these  men.  I  was  delight- 
ed with  their  urbanity,  and  filled  vvith  admiration  of  their  extensive  zoo- 
logical attainments.  Yet  they  are  both  imassuming  men,  but  from  fa- 
miliar conversation  of  a  few  hours,  you  can  tell  what  a  man  knows,  es- 
pecially, if  Yankee-like,  you  constantly  ply  him  with  searching  ques- 
tions. We  entered  into  a  mutual  compact  of  friendship  and  scientific 
relationship,  and  letters  from  both  of  them,  since  my  return,  accompa- 
nied with  valuable  mementos  of  the  9th  of  May,  attest  their  intention 
to  perpetuate  the  agreement. 


SPECTRU.M  FEMORATUM. 

Messrs.  Editors  :  Allow  me  respectfully  to  say  to  Dr.  Hiester,  that  the 
insect  of  which  he  speaks  in  the  last  No.  of  your  Journal  is  not  the 
Phasma  Rossia. — F.  That  is  an  European  species  exclusively  and  never 
occurs  in  this  country.  Cuvier's  or  Latreille's  (for  he  wrote  the  ento- 
mological portion  of  the  Regne  Animal)  description  of  Phasma  Rossia 
is  perfectly  correct,  but  it  does  not  suit  our  insect.  The  species  which 
the  Dr.  so  well  describes,  and  of  the  ravages  of  which  he  gives  such 
an  interesting  account  is  Specfrnm  Fenioratum. — Say.  He  will  find  a 
good  figure  of  it  in  Vol.  HI.  of  Say's  Entomology.  For  the  benefit  of 
your  readers  who  may  perhaps  be  sufficiently  interested  in  the  subject, 
I  here  transcribe  Say's  description. 

Male.  Body  greenish  brown,  without  any  rudiment  of  hemelytra ; 
head  yellowish  with  three  dilated  fuscous  vittae ;  antennae  brown  ;  an- 
terior thighs  unarmed,  simple,  bright  green  ;  tibia  dull  green,  tip  and  tar- 


40  ON  READIXG. 

SU3  testaceous  ;  intermediate  thighs  dilated,  angulated,  pale  ochreous,  an- 
nulated  with  brown,  tiie  inferior  angulated  lines  slightly  serrated;  a 
prominent,  piceous,  acute,  robust  spine  beneath  near  the  tip :  tibiae 
greenish,  slightly  serrated  on  the  inner  side  :  tarsus  testaceous  :  posterior 
thighs  brownish,  ochreous,  with  a  prominent,  piceous,  acute,  robust 
spjne  near  the  tip  beneath. 

Female.  Body  cinereous,  more  robust  than  that  of  the  male:  thighs 
nearly  equal  :  intermediate  and  posterior  pairs  with  the  subterminal 
spines  very  short." 

I  presume  the  Dr-s.  will  be  found  to  be  this  species ;  if  it  is  not, 
then  it  has  never  been  described,  and  he  should  write  out  a  full  descrip- 
tion, give  it  a  name  and  publish  it  in  the  Journal.  The  insect  Say  des- 
cribes is  by  no  means  common,  and  its  occurrence  in  .such  immense 
nund)ers  at  one  place  only  adds  another  to  the  already  numerous  won- 
derliil  and  interesting  phenomena  in  the  geographical  distributions  of 
insects.  J,  G.  M. 


ON  RKADING.       NO.    II. 

"  Nothing,  in  truth,  has  such  a  tendency  to  weaken  not  only  the  powers  of  in- 
vention, but  the  intellectual  powers  in  general,  as  a  habit  of  extensive  and  various 
reading,  without  reflection.  "  Dugald  Stewart. 

Indulgence  in  miscellaneous  reading  fosters  bad  habits :  and  the  im- 
mense number  of  publications  of  all  hinds,  thrown  in  our  way,  renders 
us  liable  to  this  indulgence.  Under  miscellaneous  reading  are  to  be  in- 
cluded not  only  icorks  of  fiction  distinctively,  but  also  that  light  reading 
which  so  much  abounds  in  our  numerous  periodicals,  and  their  multi- 
tudinous articles  of  a  somewhat  graver  tone.  Or  to  express  still  more 
fully  our  meaning  by  indulgence  in  miscellaneous  reading  is  to  be  un- 
derstood a  habit  of  reading  miscellaneously,  and  the  assertion  is,  that 
this  is  productive  of  bad  effecls. 

It  would  be  very  unwise  indeed  to  object  to  the  reading  of  Periodi- 
cals. At  this  day,  tlie  man,  or  the  boy,  who  never  looks  into  a  news- 
paper or  magazine  will  find  himself  far  behind  his  fellows  in  much  that 
is  valuable,  and  which  he  is  bound  to  know ;  and  will  be  sadly  defi- 
cient in  one  of  the  characteristics  of  an  intelligent  citizen.  But  he  who 
makes  them  his  chief  reading  will  soon  find  that  he  is  wasting  time 
♦that  might  be  profitably  employed,  and  will  acquire  a  disrelish  for  that 
which  is  of  a  more  solid  and  permanently  useful  character.  Whatever 
value  many  of  the  articles  may  possess,  their  great  variety  will  prevent 
proper  reflection,  and  the  eye  will  soon  learn  to  run  over  a  page,  and 


ON  READING.  41 

take  in  the  words  while  the  mind  makes  scarcely  an  effort  to  grasp  the 
thought.  This  we  all  know  is  eminently  the  result  of  novel  reading, 
of  which  more  will  be  said  hereafter.  But  it  is  also  the  result  of  gen- 
eral miscellaneous  reading :  that  is,  the  reading  of  a  great  variety  of  ar- 
ticles on  different  subjects,  or  a  great  number  of  various  books  without 
connection,  and  without  any  definite  plan.  Such  a  course  has  a  direct 
tendency  to  weaken  the  power  of  attention  and  fixedness  of  mind. 
Such  a  variety  and  quantity  of  subjects  passing  rapidly  before  the  mind, 
distract  it,  and  prevent  its  giving  proper  attention  to  any — and  thus  is 
created  a  habit  of  careless  and  profitless  reading. 

To  this  source,  without  doubt,  is  to  be  attributed  the  waste  of  much 
mental  power.  Very  wrong  ideas  are  entertained  on  this  subject,  and  en- 
couragement is  given  to  the  evil  by  false,  or  injudicious  admiration. 
Men  are  praised  for  being  great  readers,  that  is,  readers  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  books.  People  seem  not  to  know,  or  if  they  know,  to  forget, 
that  one  good  volume  carefully  read,  thought  over  and  well  digested, 
is  worth  a  library  hastily  skimmed,  or  swallowed  whole.  There  have 
been  men.  Dr.  Johnson,  for  instance,  who  could  read  hastily  and  throw 
a  book  aside  with  but  a  glance,  and  yet  by  that  glance  have  made  them- 
selves masters  of  its  contents — and  all  who  are  Dr.  Johnsons  may  do 
the  same.  We  do  not  find  fault  simply  with  reading  a  nvmher  of  books. 
If  you  can  read  twenty  books  as  they  ought  to  be  read,  certainly  it  is 
better  than  reading  one.  But  it  is  because  in  attempting  to  read  twen- 
ty, not  one  is  properly  mastered  that  the  evil  ensues. 

It  is  somewhat  amusing  and  interesting  to  observe  various  traits  of 
character  with  reference  to  this  subject.  Some  men  have  an  irresistible 
appetite  for  books  :  aud  seize  upon  all  within  their  reach.  And  when 
this  appetite  is  connected  with  a  superior  mind,  and  excellent  memory, 
there  will  inevitably  be  much  gained  from  what  is  read.  AVe  have  met 
with  such  a  man;  who  at  a  very  early  age  had  read  hundreds  of  vol- 
umes of  every  variety ;  and  he  had  garnered  up  much  of  their  beauty 
and  richness,  and  all  his  writings  and  speeches  sparkled  with  jewels 
thus  gathered.  Yet  his  was  a  case  which  finds  few  parallels  :  and  even 
he,  we  fear,  will  be  found  to  fail  in  that  which  requires  strength  of 
mind  and  independent  thought. 

Some  are  ambitious  to  be  called  great  readers,  and  so  they  acquire  a 
slight  acquaintance  with  many  authors  for  the  sake  of  talking  aiow/  them. 

Others,  again,  read  for  the  sake  of  quotations.     Take  up  the  writings 
of  one  of  this   class,  and  you  find   it  full  of  quoted  beauties,  a  sort  of 
Anthology,  if  he  has  any  taste — a  literary  Mosaic  work,  in  which  his 
own  weak  thought  scarcely  affords  ground  foi  the  inlaid  pieces. 
6 


42  THE  OLD  nilCKET. 

The  eflecls  of  tliis  superficial  mode  of  reading  are  also  often  curi- 
ously exhibited,  in  the  manner  in  which  such  readers  speak  of  various 
authors.  You  may  readily  conclude  that  they  are  but  mere  skimmers 
of  the  page,  from  the  flippant,  and  pointless  criticisms  which  they  pour 
forth  with  so  much  confidence.  For  modesty  is  associated  with  true 
knowledge;  and  this  expresses  its  opinion  with  firmness  indeed,  but  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  show  that  it  speaks  on  sure  ground  and  not  at  ran- 
dom. Thus  have  we  heard  bold  and  magisterial  criticisms  on  Burke 
and  Demosthenes,  by  one  in  his  teens,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  lat- 
ter extended  to  a  single  oration,  as  set  forth  in  a  recitation  room.  "■! 
can't  see  much  in  Shakspeare,  nor  become  interested  in  Milton  " — was 
'said  by  one  whose  reading  had  been  of  the  kind  under  censure.  And 
no  wonder ;  for  iMilton  and  Shakspeare  are  not  to  be  won  by  a  hasty 
look  and  cold  bow.  if  you  would  have  them  disclose  to  you  their 
worth,  you  must  sit  often  by  their  side,  as  a  careful  learner.  It  is  not 
indeed  until  the  mind  has  acquired  maturity,  and  taste  has  been  cultiva- 
ted, tliat  you  can  enjoy  their  uiifalhomable  streams  of  rich  deligiit  and 
profit. 


THE  OLD  BUCKET. 

A  WORD  TO  THE  YOUNG — BY  A  TEACHER. 

For  the  encouragement  of  students  of  every  class,  let  me  remind 
you,  that  there  is  no  mind  so  defective  or  so  peculiar,  that  it  may  not 
iind  ample  work  to  do  in  the  world.  Some  of  you,  are  richly  endowed 
with  natural  abilities  ;  and  education  is  for  such  an  easy  task.  The  mind 
of  genius  comes  to  us  already  fashioned  like  a  golden  vase  oi  classic 
urn,  pictured  all  over  with  figures  of  beauty,  and  adorned  with  images 
of  the  chastest  fancy.  The  waters  of  the  Pierian  Spring  seem  to  And 
in  such  an  urn  a  fit  receptacle.  And  then  we  have  too,  vessels  of  the 
homelier  sort — some  of  brass,  and  some  of  iron — not  so  elegant  indeed 
as  the  others,  but  of  ample  power  to  collect  and  retain  all  knowledge 
that  may  be  reached  by  talent.  These  classes  however  do  not  yet  in- 
clude the  whole.  The  educator  of  youth  often  meets  with  those  whose 
limited  faculties  almost  cause  him  to  despair.  But  is  instruction  then  to 
be  conferred  only  upon  the  brilliant .^  Assuredly  not!  On  Christian 
principles,  we  are  bound  to  make  thf  best  use  we  can  of  our  materials, 
whatever  they  may  be.  With  proper  eilbrts,  we  should  not  despair  of 
success,  even  for  the  dullest.  Although  (to  carry  out  our  illustration) 
his  mind  may  be  nothing  better  than  "an  old  oaken  bucket" — yet  even 
so  homely  a  thing  may  be  applied  to  valuable  uses. 


THE  OLD  BUCKET.  43 

We  may  have  seen  such  an  old  bucket  thrown  neglected  on  the 
ground — its  timber  warped  by  the  sun — the  seams  gaping  open — the 
hoops  loosened  and  just  ready  to  fall  olF:  so  that  in  ordinary  times  wc 
should  hardly  stoop  to  pick  it  from  the  ground.  Now,  imagine  your- 
self thrown  beside  a  well  in  a  thirsty  desert.  Parched  and  weary,  you 
look  around  for  something  in  which  you  may  draw  water,  to  allay  your 
thirst.  No  suitable  vessel  is  at  hand.  You  begin  to  murmur — almost 
to  despair.  Suddenly  however,  you  espy  at  a  distance  a  crazy  old  buck- 
et, such  as  I  have  just  been  describing,  and  you  attempt  to  use  it.  At 
first,  the  cool  clear  element  drips  through  it  as  from  the  seivc  of  Tan- 
talus— and  when  it  reaches  tlie  top  of  the  well,  it  is  entirely  empty,  or 
just  moist  enough  to  increase  your  thirst ! 

Shall  you  at  once  despair }  Will  yot  fling  away  the  old  bucket  be- 
cause it  is  not  all  that  it  might  have  been  .''  Be  very  cautious  !  Every- 
thing may  depend  on  another  eflbrl '  At  the  second  trial,  you  are  en- 
couraged to  try  again.  You  persevere.  At  each  repetition,  tjie  scams 
are  swollen  together — the  cracks  diminish — the  hoops  tighten — and  fi- 
nally you  are  able,  with  so  poor  an  aid,  to  quaff  delicious  water  from 
the  bottorh  of  the  well ! 

The  application  of  this  illustration  must  be  obvious..  Some  of  you 
may  store  learning  in  golden  vessels — others  in  those  of  brass  or  of  iron 
— but  no  one  is  so  utterly  destitute,  as  not  to  have  at  least ''  the  old  oak- 
en bucket."  In  our  first  attempts  to  learn,  the  mind  may  have  so  little 
power  of  retention,  that  knowledge  will  escape  from  it  as  from  the 
chinks  of  a  leaky  vessel ;  but  if  we  continue  to  pour  in  daily  a  fresh 
supply,  the  capacity  to  retain  will  improve  more  and  more  the  oftener 
and  the  more  severely  you  task  it. 

For  my  own  part,  I  think  that  every  boy  is  an  object  of  the  deepest 
interest;  for  the  simple  reason,  that  no  one  can  tell  what  he  may  be 
hereafter.  We  are  apt  to  imagine  that  it  would  have  been  very  delight- 
ful to  have  talked  with  Milton,  or  Shakspeare,  or  Walter  Scott,  in  the 
days  of  their  boyhood ;  for  we  cannot  help  believing  (if  not  that  a  lu- 
minous halo  played  around  their  foreheads)  that  at  least  some  strong  in- 
dication of  their  future  glory  must  have  distinguished  them  in  early 
years.  Byt  their  biographies  indicate  rather  the  revei'se  ;  and  it  is  high- 
ly probable,  that,  if  we  cAuld  have  visited  the  schools  in  which  those 
men  were  educated,  and  had  been  permitted  to  select  from  the  crowd 
those  youths  whose  appearance  and  conduct  gave  the  surest  promise  of 
greatness,  we  might  have  chosen  one  who  was  destinicd  to  make  the 
keen  attorney  or  the  shrewd  man  of  business,  and   entirely  overlooked. 


44  '  -  1311.  CETHUNe's  OllATION. 

as  below  mediocrity,  those  master  spirits  who  have  now  proved  their 
capacity  to  move  the  v^'orkh 

Mow  careful  then  should  the  teacher  be,  not  to  despise  the  mystery 
of  boyhood  ;  for  who  knows  what,  in  any  given  instance,  may  be  the 
hidden  gferm  which  has  not  yet  budded  into  life !  And  how  much  is  it 
the  interest  as  well  as  the  duty  of  every  scholar  not  to  fold  his  talent 
in  a  napkin,  lest  the  gift  whicii  in  his  folly  he  has  neglected  as  the  ver- 
iest pittance,  might  have  proved  a  richer  treasure  than  the  untold  wealth 
of  Eastern  kinsrs. 


Rev.  Dr.  Bethune's  Oration.     Yale  College. 

The  author  of  this  address  is  an  admired  minister  of  the  Gospel  iu 
one  of  the  churches  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  His  reputation  as  a 
pulpit  orator  is  very  high,  and  he  has,  on  more  than  one  occasian,  ap- 
peared before  the  public  with  literary  addresses,  which  have  obtained 
for  him  the  highest  award  of  praise  that  accompanies  successful  efl'orts 
of  this  description.  The  address  before  ns  takes  its  place,  amongst 
those  which  have  issued  from  his  pen,  and^challenges  attention  both  on 
account  of  the  celebrity  of  the  orator,  and  the  fame  of  the  school  be- 
fore whose  literary  societies  it  was  delivered.  It  has  been  before  the 
public  more  than  a  year,  but  deserves  to  be  rescued  from  that  oblivion 
into  which  such  productions  so  speedily  pass.  It  deserves  our  com- 
mendation, not  because  it  was  asked  for  publication  by  the  societies  be- 
fore which  it  was  delivered,  not  on  account  of  the  favorable  reception 
it  has  met  from  the  newspaper-press,  though  we  feel  n^  inclination  to 
undervalue  their  judgment,  which  in  the  absence  of  proof  to  the  con- 
trar}'  we  are  bound  to  consider  intelligent  and  just,  but  because  of  the 
solidity  of  the  matter  and  the  tastefulness  of  the  attire  in  which  it  ap- 
pears. In  this,  as  in  other  performances,  Dr.  Eelhune  evinces  his  clas- 
.sical  predilections,  and  displays  an  uninterrupted  intercourse  with  the 
writers  of  Greece  and  Rome.  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  when  any  one 
engaged  in  an  arduous  and  laborious  profession,  (and  what  more  so  than 
the  Christian  ministry,  when  its  duties  are  conscientiously  discharged,) 
resists  the  temptations,  so  effective  with  many,  entirely  to  lay  aside  the 
perusal  of  the  master  spirits  of  the  past,  those  especially  who  have 
earned  for  tiiemsclves  the  honored  appellation  of  "Classics." 

Detaining  our  readers  too  long  from  the  Oration  itself,  which  we  de- 
sign to  notice  especially  for  the  benefit  of  that  class  of  persons  to  whom 
it  was  more  particularly  addressed,  wc  announce  its  subject  as  'sStudy,-' 
one,  the  importance  dWil  adaplcducbs  of  which  to  his  auditory,   will  not 


ini.  iJETiK  \k'.s  (jtatio.v.  45 

admit  of  doubt.  Most  willingly  should  any  young  man  and  every  young 
man  listen  to  him  who,  his  senior  in  years,  successful  in  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  professionally  distinguished,  refined  in  taste,  and  steeped  in 
general  erudition,  is  willing  to  instruct  him  in  the  mysteries  of  study, 
open  to  his  view  the  path  to  learning  and  whatever  advantages  she 
bears  in  her  train.  No  doubt  can  be  entertained,  that  the  want  of  en- 
lightened views  on  this  subject  has  arrested  many  an  ardent  youth  in 
his  onward  progress  and  induced  him  to  sink  down  into  indolence  and 
inaction.  Some  too  who  have  persevered  in  their  efforts  have  missed 
the  goal  by  injudicious  and  ill-regulated  exertions. 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that  some  of  us  who  are  neither  young  nor  en- 
tirely unsuccessful  in  the  acquisition  of  truth,  would  be  willing  to  learn 
how  some  minds  have  achieved  tlieir  astonishing  results  and  distanced 
so  efiectually  their  competitors.  The  arcana  of  study,  of  profitable 
study,  have  not  all  yet  been  revealed,  and  the  man  should  be  hailed 
with  gratitude  by  every  one,  who  skilled  to  instruct,  openeth  his  mouth, 
and  teacheth.  The  author  feels  the  weight  of  his  resposibility  in  dis- 
cussing his  subject,  and  bespeaks  indulgence  from  hia  "public."  Study, 
is  defined,  "in  its  wide  meaning,  zeal  in  acquiring  knowledge  of  any 
kind,  by  any  method."  This  definition  does  not  strike  us  as  particular- 
ly discriminating.  By  the  term  study  is  ordinarily  understood  the  ap- 
plication of  the  mind  to  truth  for  the  purpose  of  mastering  and  retain- 
ing it.  It  is  zeal  that  animates  in  the  pursuit  and  urges  on  to  the  ac- 
quisition. We  discern  that  the  Doctor's  object  is  rather  to  point  out  a 
particular  sphere  of  action  to  the  studious  than  to  analyze  the  elements 
of  study,  and  to  exhibit  the  processes  adopted  in  it.  Selecting  for  him- 
self this  course,  he  leaves  to  others  the  Sciences  strictly  so  called,  and 
addresses  himself  to  "letters,  especially,  letters  which  reveal  tlie  experi- 
ence, the  taste,  and  the  mind  of  antiquity." 

What  should  we  study  ?  Study,  says  this  Christian  orator,  God,  in 
his  word  and  in  his  works — study  man.  Of  the  Scriptures,  he  speaks 
in  the  following  terms  :  "the  style  of  the  Scriptures  is  not  bare  and 
meagre.  Simplicity  of  narrative,  patlios  arid  grandeur  of  description, 
eloquence,  argument,  philosophy,  poetry,  imagery,  apothegm,  maxim, 
proverb,  ate  all  there;  and  each  inspired  writer  has  a  genius,  with  cor- 
respondent manner,  peculiar  to  himself.  Study  of  the  Bible  awakens 
taste  for  letters,  and  sanctions  by  infallible  example,  a  cultivation  of 
those  arts  which  the  scholar  loves,  for  the  delight  and  power  they  give 
him." 

Of  the  works  of  God,  he  discourseth  thus  :  "God  teaches  us  by  his 
works.     He  has  not  formed  them  after  the  narrow  scheme  of  a  misno- 


46  DR.  betiiune's  oration. 

mered  utilitarianism.  There  are  the  nigged,  the  barren,  and  the  drea- 
ry, but  how  far  excelling  in  niiniber  and  extent  are  the  graceful,  the 
changeful,  the  wonderful  and  the  bright !  How  lavish  has  he  been  of 
trees,  and  shrubs,  and  herbs,  and  flowers,  moulding  their  anatomy  and 
painting  their  leaves  with  infinite  skill!  Mountain  and  valley,  hill  and 
dale  and  plain,  forest  and  meadow,  brook  and  river  and  lake  and  sea, 
combine  their  contrasts  to  adorn  the  fruitful  earth  for  the  dwelling  of 
its  innumerable  tribes.  Above  us,  the  clouds,  dark,  fleecy,  or  gorgeous, 
of  every  shape,  sweep  over  the  face  of  heaven,  or  hang  around  the  hori- 
zon, or  passing  away,  leave  the  blue  vault  magnificent  with  the  garni- 
ture of  sun  and  moon  and  planet  and  constellation.  They  all  have  their 
uses ;  but  is  their  beauty,  with  our  faculty  to  perceive  and  to  feel  it,  of 
no  use ;  an  extravagance  of  the  Creator,  a  profuseness  of  bounty,  from 
which  we  must  abstain  in  a  self-denial  more  prudent  than  the  kindness 
of  God.  Let  the  cold,  dull  plodder,  who,  intent  on  his  creeping  steps, 
fears  to  look  up  and  delight  himself  in  that  which  God  delights  in. — 
Study  tlie  lyrics  of  David,  tlie  rhapsodies  of  holy  prophets  and  the  il- 
lustrated sermons  of  his  Lord.''  Amongst  the  studies  prominently  set 
forth  in  the  discourse  are  the  ancient  classics.  The  views  expressed 
on  this  subject,  are  unexceptionable  and  cannot  be  plausibly  gainsayed. 
Gladly  would  we  adorn  our  pages  with  extracts  from  the  rich  and  grace- 
ful expositions  on  this  topic  but  we  are  admonished  by  our  limits  to  ab- 
stain. A  single  passage  must  suffice :  "  Who  will  challenge  the  services 
of  Luther,  profoundlj'^  versed  in  ancient  wisdom,  and  Mclancliton,  (ille 
Germaniae  suse  magister,  omnis  doctrines  praesidio  instructus,  divinis  hu- 
nianisque  Uteris  ornatus,)  whose  eloquent  exhoitations  to  the  study  of 
the  classics  have  ^iccompanied  the  Augsburg  Confession  to  us  ;  of  Cal- 
vin and  Rivet,  wliose  Ciceronian  periods  enchant  the  scholar  as  much 
as  their  matchless  divinity  edifies  the  saint,  of  Zuingle,  an  editor  of  Pin- 
dar, and  Piscator,  a  translator  of  Horace  ;  of  Grotius,  teacher  of  all 
moral  science,  and  the  Elder  Vossius,  worthy  of  being  named  with  his 
great  compatriot,  of  Owen,  Baxter,  and  Howe,  each  thoroughly  bred  to 
the  use  of  books ;  of  Matthew  Henry,  whose  apt  quotations  show  a 
stretch  of  reading  which,  from  his  modest  quaintness,  we  might  not 
otherwise  have  suspected,  and  Doddridge,  whose  style  betrays  caily  fa- 
miliarity with  classic  models  ;  of  Lardner  and  Warburton,  who  heaped 
the  spoil  of  the  Gentiles  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  and  of  many  others 
not  to  speak  of  those  in  our  own  day  and  in  our  own  land,  honored 
alike  by  the  erudite  and  the  good  .'  Was  their  piety,  because  of  their 
learning,  less  active  or  less  useful,  than  that  of  those  who  cannot  take 


DR.  betiiune's  oration.  47 

a  step  iu  Christian  duty,  but  leaning  on  their  help?  Can  we  be  wrong 
in  attempting  to  follow  their  examples  r" 

It  is  not  merely  by  the  study  of  books,  whether  ancient  or  modern, 
that  knowledge  is  to  be  acquired.  A  mere  devourer  of  books,  (hclhir) 
lihrorum)  is  not  the  type  of  a  true  and  proper  man,  our  author  being  the 
judge.  He  recommends  intercourse  with  our  kind.  Men  are  to  be  stu- 
died as  well  as  books,  and  he  rightly  pronounces  them,  important  teach- 
ers. 

"  It  would,"  says  he,  "however  be  a  grave  mistake  to  draw  know- 
ledge only  from  books.  Human  nature,  in  all  ages,  is  radically  the  same. 
Books  help  us  to  understand  mankind,  and  intercourse  with  mankind 
helps  us  to  understand  books."  Study  is  to  draw  its  impulsive  power 
from  no  mercenary  motives.  The  aspirations  of  the  scholar  are  to  be 
lofty,  noble.  In  decided  terms,  are  they  condemned  who  derive  their 
excitement  to  literary  pursuits  from  their  digestive  apparatus,  and  who 
would  exchange  their  pursuit  for  another  diflerent  in  character  for  the 
paltry  consideration  of  a  little  more  bread.  These  are  sterling  views. 
They  are  the  only  proper  considerations  to  push  us  on  in  the  path  of 
literature.  Let  his  counsel  on  this  point  be  well  weighed — "The  office 
of  the  educated  is  to  be  benefactors  of  their  race.  While  vve  love  study 
for  its  own  sake,  we  should  love  it  far  more  for  the  sake  of  the  facul- 
ties it  gives  us  to  exercise  the  highest  form  of  beneficence.  Reputation 
for  talent  and  acquirements,  because  it  increases  our  power,  may  fairly 
be  desired,  and,  within  proper  limits,  sought.  An  intellectual  laborer  is 
not  less  entitled  to  remuneration  for  his  work,  than  those  who  till  the 
earth  or  ply  the  loom.  Whatever  in  our  studies,  refines  our  taste,  im- 
proves our  manners,  or  quickens  our  sensibilities,  is  to  be  ciierished,  be- 
cause, though  the  effect  be  not  immediately  seen,  it  prepares  us  for 
greater  success  when  we  attempt  to  do  good.  Yet  usefulness  to  man 
for  the  glory  of  God,  should  be  the  student's  ruling  purpose.  Tiiat 
alone  can  maintain  in  us  an  unconquerable  courage,  lift  us  above  the 
dangerous  temptations  within  and  around,  and  purifying  our  thoughts 
•from  selfish  and  sensual  defilement,  sanctify  our  understanding  for  the 
eternal  sphere,  wheie  charity  never  fails,  though  tongues  shall  cease  and 
knowledge  vanish  away.  The  heart,  not  the  reason,  is  the  most  noble 
part  of  the  soul." 

The  sound  moral  and  religious  tone  which  pervades  this  address 
renders  it  worthy  of  high  commendation.  Sound  in  its  philosophy,  it 
is  beautiful  in  its  morality,  because  that  morality  is  pervaded  with  the 
doctrines  of  the  cross.  The  maxims  are  good  for  the  head,  they  are 
good  for  the  heart.     Let  no  one  think  that  he  can  approximate  the  ex- 


48  CENTRAL  SUN  OF  THE  TTNIVERSE. 

cellence  of  attainment  held  out  to  him  without  diligence  and  persever- 
ance. It  is  not  the  idler,  the  tritler,  the  young  man  who  wastes  his 
time  in  unprofitable  society,  who  shuns  close  application  that  will  win 
the  prize — the  race  is  to  the  swift,  the  battle  to  the  strong.  It  is  not  for 
a  moment  to  be  supposed  that  our  author  inculcates  the  undue  tasking 
either  of  the  mental  or  physical  powers.  He  ministers  sound  lessons 
of  a  different  character  towards  the  close,  and  then,  with  a  solemn  ap- 
peal, calls  on  his  hearers  to  act,  and  concludes  in  a  spirit  the  most  seri- 
ous. 

"In  a  little  while,  the  fashions,  the  riches,  the  empty  pleasures,  and 
the  tinsel  honors  of  this  life,  will  have  passed  away.  We  can  carry 
with  us  into  eternity  nothing,  of  which  the  soul  is  not  the  treasury. 

We  shall  never  all  meet  together  again  in  this  world,  but  we  shall 
meet  before  the  Judgment.  Then  may  each  of  us  be  able  to  present 
through  the  Intercessor,  something  done  by  his  grace,  worthy  of  our 
immortal  powers,  useful  to  our  fellow  men,  and  glorifying  to  our  Maker! 
God  bless  you  ?  " 

In  terminating  our  hasty  notice  of  this  instructive  oration,  we  de- 
sire, in  no  spirit  of  undue  adidalion,  to  direct  tlie  attention  of  young 
men  to  it,  convinced  that  they  will  derive  from  it  useful  instruction,  that 
its  precepts  will  tend  to  enlighten  their  heads  and  purify  their  hearts, 
and  satisfied  that  its  gifted  and  honored  author  desires  no  other  revvard, 
than  such  results  in  such  minds. 


Central  Sun  of  the  Uiiivcrsc.—Prof.  Midler,  of  Dorpat,  from  a 
comparison  of  catalogues  of  stars  since  the  time  of  Bradley,  concludes 
that  the  Pleiades  constitute  the  central  group  of  the  system  of  stars 
which  compose  the  Milky  Way.  and  that  Alcyone,  one  of  that  group, 
is  the  central  sun,  about  which  our  sun  with  its  attendant  planets,  and 
the  whole  mass  of  stars  which  sparkle  in  the  vault  of  night  perform  tlieir 
revolutions.  The  time  of  one  revolution  of  our  sun  around  Alcyone 
he  estimates  at  18  millions  of  years.  Prof.  Schumacher  entertains 
doubts  as  to  the  correctness  of  these  conclusions. 


Our  readers  will  find  a  full  and  valuable  paper  on  the  anatomy  of 
the  spectrum  femoralum  in  the  July  and  August  No.  of  llie  Proceedings 
of  the  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences  of  Philadelphia,  by  Dr.  Leidy,  who 
has  with  much  patience  and  skill  completely  anatomized  this  animal. 


Pcimsiijluama  College,  ©cttncibuvg,  l(}a, 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 

I '.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D.—PresH  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  RcL,  Ethics,  4c. 
liev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oraton/. 
Ivev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Muthematics,  Chemistri/  and  Mechanical  Philos. 
Kev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  f.o%ic. 
AI.  L.  Stoevek,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 
I\ev.  Chas.  a.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Llcratvre. 
Kerma.v  Haupt,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  MuUicmatcs,  Drawng  and  French, 
Oavid  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  Jnatomy  and  Physology. 
.)  OHN  G.  Morris,  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoolo^. 
Alexakdek  M.  Rogers. —  Tutor. 
Vbraham  Essick. — 2\dor. 

Pennsylvania  College  has  now  boen  chartered  about  fifteen  years.  Din- 
ing this  time  its  progress  has  been  sucfi  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions of"  its  friends.  The  course  of"  studies  is  as  extensive  and  subsfanfiai  as  that 
of"  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- 
struction in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition 
to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics  andClassical  Literature.  The  College  Course 
is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  to 
lequire.  They  attend  three  recitations  a  day.  Church  and  Bible  Class  on  th  Sab- 
bath, and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  tlie  danger  of 
my  great  irregularities.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice, 
pecied  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
ossion,  $63  621  :  for  the  summer  session,  .'$43  12i.  Washing,  #10  00;  and  Wood, 
<;}  00.  Total  expense,  $119  75.  Boarding  can  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  23  per 
week.  ,. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  tlie  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  ol 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  contintiance._ 


Receipts  'liiritit^  November, 

P.  A.  Browne,  LI..  D.,  Philadelphia,  $3  00  Vol.  3tl 

Rev.  Jas.  A.  Brown,  VVythcville,  '  1  00  «  3 

Alfred  li.  Smith,  Esq.  Chanibersbnrf,       2  00  •'  1  &^ 

F.  A.  Muhlenberg-,  jr.  Lancaster.  100  "  2 

Mrs.  E.  Stoncbraker,  Baltinv'n .  -J  00  "  ]  S: 

D.  H.  Focht,  Getlvshuifr.  ]  00  "  H 

D.  A.  Willaman.  I  00  ••  ;] 

.I.K.Miller,  100  ••  2 

C.  G.  Simp.son,       •'■  ]  00  "  3 

A.  E.  Y eater.  •'  1  00  ^^  -j 

JDr.  Geo.  B.  Aikcn,  Middleburir-,  .M(!  100  ■•  y. 

Wm.  B   Richie,  Bhiladeli'liKu  100  •• 

Dr.  L.  Rouse,  York,  1  00  •■ 

\!.^\  G.jl.Iiart,  Dayton.  OLiu.  :?  Ol)  • 


|3cmt5ijlDama  ittebkal  College, 

Filbert  above  Elevriilh  street,  Philadelphia. 


Mediciil  Faciiily  at  Philadelphia. 

Wm.  Daurach,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Tlieory  and  Praciice  of  Medicine. 

John  Wiltbank,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Obstetrics  and  Diseases  of  women  and  children. 

H.  S.  Patterson,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Materia  Medica. 

Wm.  11.  Grant.  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Jlnatomy  and  Physiolosri/- 

U.  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Principles  and  Practice  of  Surgery. 

W.  L.  Atlee,  M.  D.—Prof  of  Medical  Chemistry. 

W.  T.  Babb,  M.  D. — Demonstrator  of  Anatomy. 


CHonatioiiiS  to  Cabinet. 

1.  From  Prof.  C.J.  Hay,  Sal  in  Spar,  Hyacintli,  Sapphire,  Ruby,  Olsidian,  ; 
Do.  transparent,  Carnellan,  Agate  flir.t  and  marble,  Cinamon  Stone,  Retinasplial-  i, 
turn,  Filiate  of  Lime  Ferrginous  Quai  tzj  Graphic  Granite,  9  Specimens  of  Villa  ; 
polished  Marble  and  a  Specimen  of  Mosaic  from  Adrian's.  ; 

2.  S.  W.  Mifflin,  Esq.  1  large  box  of  Minerals.  ; 

3.  F.  W.  Brawns,  5  German  Coins.  ; 

4.  Wm.  King,  Baltimore,  Sketcli  of  a  lion  attacking  a  horse.  • 
.5.     C.  G.  Simpson,  Copper  ore  from  Frederick  co.  Md. 

6.  F.  R.  Butt,  Specimen  of  Pad.  ', 

7.  Col.  J.  D.  Paxton,  Iron  ore. 

8.  R.  G.  H.  Clarkson,  Relics  (rom  Windsor  Castle,  Kildrumme  Castle,  Ken- 
ihvorth  Castle,  Christ's  Church  College,  Oxford,  Gray's  Church  Yard,  and  West- 
minster Abbey. 

9.  J.  R.  Pint,  3  Silver  coins. 

10.     M.  A.  Miller,  part  of  Harris'  tree,  Harrisburg. 

SDcnatiou  to  £ibrarti.  ; 

From  Daniels  §•  Smith,  1  vol.  Pavinius  Veronensis  de  Ludibus  Circcnsibus  et ; 
Triumphis.  f 

Terms  of  the  Record  a.nd  Journal.     One  DoUar  per  annum 
in  advance.  ■ 

Address — '■'■Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal^  Gettijslurg,  Pa.'''' 


VOLUME  III.] 


Tnumber  3. 


THE 


LITERARY   RECORD   AND  JOURNAL 

<©f  tijt  iTinncttan  Jlaaociation  of  |>ennai)lt)ama  ColUje. 


JANUARY,    1847. 


CONDUCTED 


Mu  n  Commfttee  of  the  ^ssocfatton. 


CONTENTS. 

LOOSE  LEAVES   FROM  MY  JOURNAL,                  -            -            -  49 

PHILOSOPHY  OF   STORMS,        ------  52 

THE  AGE  OF   PERICLES,                   -----  54 

ADVANTAGES  OF   RULES  ON  ELOQUENCE,            -            -             -  58 

EPISTLES   TO  STUDENTS,                -----  60 

REMINISCENCES  OF   STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY — AN 

ACADEMICAL  COMMUNION,         -            -            -            -            -  61 

EXPERIMENTS   ON   LIGHTS,            -----  67 

LINES  ON  THE  MASSACRE  OF  WYOMING,            -            -            -  70 
PRESIDENT  NEVIN's  BACCALAUREATE  AD- 
DRESS,             --------ib. 


1|   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2i  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  II r.  JANUARY,  1847.  No.  3. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.  III. 

BY  J.  G.  M. 

There  aie  queer  fish  in  all  waters,  and  queer  men  in  all  lands.  We 
need  not  travel  abroad  to  find  extraordinary  specimens  of  eccentricity, 
but  I  met  with  one  in  a  foreign  country  who  is  certainly  worthy  of  a 
description  in  the  Journal.  He  is  a  naturalist  withal,  of  no  mean  repu- 
tation, and  as  such  is  particularly  entitled  to  a  distinguished  notice  in 
your  pages.  I  will  not  mention  names,  for  most  of  your  readers  would 
not  know  him,  and  although  he  himself  would  feel  honored  by  this  dis- 
tinction, yet  I  dare  not  be  more  specific.  The  following  leaf  from  my 
journal  will  explain  the  whole. 

July  1.  To-day  I  called  on  my  old  correspondent  Herr  ex-ober- 
Lehrer  M.  His  letters  had  shown  that  he  was  a  singular  genius,  and  I 
expected  to  see  a  genuine  original.  I  prepared  myself  for  fun,  and  im- 
agined I  should  see  a  decrepit  old  bachelor  living  in  a  garret,  that  was  a 
stranger  to  the  broom,  with  cobwebs  for  window  curtains,  and  two  rick- 
ety, invalid  chairs  for  a  sofa.  1  mounted  three  tall  pair  of  stairs  in  F — 
strasse,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  eccentric  naturalist.  No  an- 
swer was  given  and  leaving  my  card  I  retired.  I  had  not  been  gone 
two  hours,  before  I  received  at  my  hotel,  two  large  foolscap  sheets  writ- 
ten full,  by  way  of  regret  for  his  absence.  lie  deplored  it  in  most  dol- 
orous terms — he  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  events  of 
his  life, — it  added  another  to  the  numerous  pangs  that  were  daily  tor- 
menting his  heart — he^did  not  think  he  could  sleep  that  night — and  a 
long  series  of  reiterated  lamentations.  He  then  branched  ofl'  into  a  dis- 
quisition on  some  points  of  Natural  History  and  asked  m.e  a  number  of 
questions  about  the  pigeons  of  the  United  States,  stating  that  he  was 
writing  a  monograph  on  the  Columbidae^ — he  also  inquired  whether  the 
partridges  of  America  had  truncated  tails,  and  of  how  many  feathers, 
7 


oO  ■  LOOSE   r.EAVE> 

Ihc  tail  was  composed  ? — lie  wanted  to  know  my  opinion  about  the  ges- 
tation of  the  opossum,  and  wheliier  we  had  more  than  one  species  of 
rattle-snake  ? — and  finally  wound  up  with  an  invitation  to  dinner  next 
day  at  five  o'clock.  I  went.  Imagine  my  surprise  at  seeing  a  man  of 
forty,  punctiliously  dressed, — his  room  a  very  pattern  of  neatness, — his 
bed  as  clean  as  a  new  washed  shirt — his  furniture,  if  not  splendid,  yet 
showy  and  glistening  with  varnish  and  wax, — his  pipes  hung  around 
the  walls  in  perfect  order — and  every  thing  betokening  the  man  of  pre- 
cision and  system.  He  rushed  up  to  me  like  one  possessed,  he  would 
liave  kissed  me,  if  I  had  let  him — he  reiterated  his  expressions  of  regret 
at  his  yesterday's  absence  and  drew  up  two  chairs  for  me  to  sit  on. — 
He  immediately  took  down  two  pipes  which  were  perfectly  innocent  of 
the  odor  of  tobacco  and  filled  them  for  me, — he  capered  about  the  room 
as  if  under  the  influence  of  nitrous  oxide  gas,  until  I  begged  him  to  be 
composed  and  he  finally  sat  down  just  in  front  of  me  and  as  near  as  he 
could  get.  Then  began  the  conversation.  I  asked  him  why  he  had  not 
sent  a  box  of  JYaluralien  in  return  for  one  an  American  friend  had  sent 
him  .'  He  said  he  had,  but  that  it  came  back  to  him  again ;  and  on  fur- 
ther inquiry  I  learned  that  he  had  forgotten  the  name  of  the  gentleman, 
but  he  thought  it  was  Hcrr  Fidler  and  so  directed  it ; — secondly,  he 
had  forgotten  whether  to  send  it  to  Bremen,  Hamburg,  or  Lubeck  for 
.shipment,  and  finally,  that  he  had  just  sent  it  off  by  the  public  coach, 
leaving  it  to  take  its  chance,  just  as  sailors  throw  a  bottle  overboard  at 
sea,  without  any  particular  designation  ! !  No  wonder  it  was  returned 
to  him. 

lie  told  me  he  soon  expected  to  receive  a  Professorship,  and  walked 
about  the  room  in  ecstacy  at  his  prospect.  It  seemed  as  though  he  was 
already  preparing  to  go,  and  I  asked  him  when  he  expected  to  set  out 
for  the  University.  "Ah! — said  he — I  hav'nt  got  the  appointment  yet 
— ein  gewisser  Herr  muss  erst  slerlen  ! ! !  "  He  was  reckoning  on  the 
death  of  a  Professor  who  is  likely  to  live  as  long  as  himself.  He  in- 
formed me  that  he  was  about  embarking  on  the  tempestuous  sea  of  poli- 
tics and  thought  it  was  perfectly  consistent  with  his  zoological  researches 
to  write  on  political  economy.  He  said  he  was  preparing  a  pamphlet 
tliat  would  make  the  government  tremble,  for  he  could  endure  the  out- 
rageous oppression  no  longer  without  uttering  his  sentiments.  1  be- 
sought him  to  abandon  the  project,  for  he  would  get  himself  into  trou- 
ble ;  no ! — he  would  be  a  politician  and  was  determined  to  sonnd  the 
trump  of  alarm  and  call  on  the  people  to  assert  their  rights.  From  his 
representation  of  the  vast  importance  of  the  matter,  1  thought  that  his 
Majesty's  ministers  might  well  tremble  for  their  safety  and  that  the  throne 


FROM  MY  JOURXAL.  Ol 

itself  might  not  consider  itself  too  firm.  And  what  was  the  oppressively 
momentous  subject  on  which  this  new  candidate  for  political  distinction 
was  going  to  write  and  shake  the  throne  ?  Why,  the  government  had 
lately  thought  of  taxing  caged  nightingales,  and  he  was  determined  to 
let  fly  his  artillery  at  them  double-shotted  ! !  The  blood  rushed  to  his 
face  as  he  told  me,  and  he  was  fiercely  excited.  He  conceived  it  to  be 
an  intolerable  oppression  which  could  not  be  submitted  to.  I  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing,  which  I  attrihutcd  to  the  tobacco 
smoke,  that  now  densely  clouded  the  room,  for  he  pulTed  with  double 
vigor  whilst  he  was  telling  me  the  story  of  his  wrongs,  and  I  rolled  out 
the  volumes  more  vehemently  than  usual,  to  prevent  a  more  hilarious 
explosion. 

This  gentleman  is  at  present  preparing  a  new  edition  of  Cuvier's 
Regne  Animal,  with  copious  notes  and  a  new  translation.  It  is  a  pro- 
foundly learned  work  and  displays  an  extraordinary  acquaintance  with 
every  department  of  Zoology.  A  considerable  portion  of  it  is  already 
printed  and  this  he  kindly  presented  to  me.  The  notes  are  four  times 
more  voluminous  than  the  text,  and  I  think  he  will  be  in  full  possession 
of  his  expected  Professorship  before  he  finishes  it,  for  I  have  no  doubt, 
it  will  require  many  long  years  of  laborious  research,  if  he  continues 
to  be  as  prolix  as  he  has  begun.  Jn  return  for  this  favor,  I  gave  him  a 
scientific  trifle  of  my  own  which  had  appeared  in  one  of  our  Journals, 
and  he  was  so  overwhelmed  with  gratitude,  that  he  rose  up,  grasped  my 
hand  and  thanked  me  a  thousand  times,  for  the  gift!  I  did  not  know 
whether  I  should  laugh  or  cry. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  numerous  queer  incidents  that  occurred 
during  an  interview  of  several  hours.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  my  visit 
to  the  eccentric  naturalist.  1  left  liim  with  regret,  having  really  con- 
ceived a  strong  attachment  to  this  very  singular  man.  Next  day  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  oi'  four  sheets,  in  elucidation  of  certain  points  discussed 
the  evening  before  and  specifying  certain  desidcrala  of  our  Natural  lii.s- 
tory.  It  comprehended  the  whole  Fauna  and  Flora — he  wanted  every 
thing  the  country  produces,  and  if  I  could  send  him  but  a  fourth  of 
what  he  asked  for,  he  would  have  a  very  respectable  Museum  of  Amer- 
ican Zoology. 

I  admired  the  man's  talents  and  acquirements — and  pitied  his  infirm- 
ities. He  has  many  admirable  qualities  and  is  really  an  entertaining 
companion, — so  lehc  icohl  Hcrr  ex-ohcr-Lchrer  M. 


52 

PHILOSOPHY    OP    STORMS.       NO.   V.      ' 

BY  PROF.  W.  L.  ATLEE,  M,  D,  PHILAPELPHIA,  PA. 

From  what  has  heretofore  been  said,  it  will  now  be  readily  undei'= 
stood  that  whenever  the  temperature  of  air  is  reduced  down  to,  or  be- 
low its  dew-point,  the  condensation  of  its  vapor  into  water  must  be 
the  result.  This  condensation,  too,  is  just  in  proportion  to  the  reduc- 
tion of  temperature,  and  is  calculated  in  the  same  way  as  the  quantity 
and  tension  of  the  vapor.  If,  for  instance,  a  certain  bulk  of  air,  say 
the  air  in  a  room,  could,  by  any  circumstance,  be  suddenly  reduced  be- 
Jow  60  degrees,  the  assumed  dew-point,  a  portion  of  the  vapor  would 
be  condensed  into  water,  and  a  cloud  or  fog  would  be  the  result.  If 
the  thermometer  would  fall  20  degrees  below  the  dew-point,  one-half 
of  the  vapor  in  the  room  would  be  reduced  into  water ;  if  it  would 
fall  more  than  twenty  degrees,  more  than  half  the  vapor*,  if  less  than 
20  degrees,  less  than  half;  and  thus  the  deposition  would  vary  with  the 
temperature.  This  was  beautifully  illustrated  by  Professor  Espy,  by 
means  of  an  instrument  called  tlie  Nephelescope.  This  instrument  con- 
sists of  a  bottle  or  glass  receiver,  having  a  stop-cock  fastened  into  its 
neck,  and  also  a  barometer-guage,  resembling  an  inverted  syphon,  com- 
municating with  its  cavity.  By  means  of  a  condensing  syringe,  Prof. 
Espy  condensed  an  equal  bulk  of  air  into  the  receiver,  and  the  mercury 
in  the  syphon-guage  was  observed  to  rise.  After  the  equilibrium  of  tem- 
perature which  had  been  destroyed  by  this  operation,  had  been  restored, 
he  applied  a  measure  carefully  to  the  barometer-guage  to  ascertain  how 
much  higlier  the  mercury  stood  in  the  outer  leg  than  in  the  inner,  and 
then  turning  the  cock,  he  again  permitted  the  air  to  escape,  and  the  mer- 
cury was  seen  to  fall  suddenly  to  its  original  level,  lie  now  quickly 
turned  the  cock  again,  cutting  ofl'  all  communication  with  the  external 
air,  and  the  mercury  began  to  rise  again  and  remained  up,  because  the 
air  within  received  heat  from  without,  and  the  difference  of  level  being 
measured  as  before,  this  indicated  the  number  of  degrees  cooled  by  a 
given  expansion.  In  this  experiment,  the  air,  condensed  within  the  re- 
ceiver, was  permitted  to  escape,  while  the  remaining  half,  by  its  clastic 
force,  expanded  and  filled  the  receiver.  In  consequence  of  this  expan- 
sion a  great  deal  of  cold  was  produced,  and  this  rapidly  condensed  the 
vapor  in  the  air  into  a  dense  cloud,  which  was  plainly  seen  from  every 
part  of  the  room.  At  the  moment  the  air  flies  out  of  the  receiver  tlie 
air  within  expands,  and  the  amount  of  this  expansion  is  indicated  by 
the  extent  of  the  depression  in  the  guage,  while  its  subsequent  rise  en- 
ables us  to  calculate  tlie  exact  amount  of  cold  produced  by  the  expan- 
sion, and  also  the  amount  of  vapor  condensed  by  the  cold.     Another 


PHILOSOPIIV  OF   STORMS.  53 

instriiincnl  was  employed  by  Professor  Espy  by  which  he  could  get  the 
temperature  below  or  above  the  dew-point  in  quick  succession,  and  thus 
make  and  unmake  cloud  almost  in  the  same  instant.  This  was  riierely 
a  strong  glass  tube  with  a  piston,  originally  constructed  for  igniting  tin- 
der. By  drawing  back  the  piston,  expanding  the  air,  and  thus  reducing 
the  temperature  below  the  dew-point,  cloud  was  formed ;  and  by  push- 
ing in  the  piston,  condensing  the  air,  and  thus  elevating  the  temperature 
again  above  the  dew-point,  the  cloud  disappeared — proving  not  only  the 
ralionale  of  the  formation  of  cloud,  but  also  that  the  quantity  of  vapor 
is  proportionate  to  the  temperature.  All  clouds  are  formed  in  nature  in 
this  way,  whenever  the  air  is  caused  to  ascend  high  enough  to  reduce 
its  temperature  down  to  the  dew-point ;  and  the  cloud  becomes  denser 
and  denser  as  the  air  continues  to  ascend  above  its  base. 

Now  wlien  vapor  in  a  gaseous  state  is  cooled  to  a  point  sufliciently 
low  to  convert  it  to  water,  it  parts  with  its  heat  of  elasticity,  which  is 
set  free  or  beconies  sensible.  Tliis  heat  of  elasticity,  or  latent  caloriCf 
as  it  is  more  frequently  called,  is  contained  in  large  quantities  in  vapor, 
and  it  is  given  out  or  rendered  sensible,  whenever  the  vapor  or  steam  in 
the  air  is  condensed  into  cloud.  The  heat,  therefore,  which  begins  to 
be  discharged  at  the  base  of  the  cloud,  must  change  the  rate  of  cooling 
in  the  up-moving  column,  from  the  base  of  the  cloud  upwards,  from  that 
which  exists  from  its  base  downwards.  If,  however,  the  up-moving 
column  of  air  were  free  from  vapor,  then  the  ratio  of  cooling  would 
not  be  affected ;  but  the  nephelescopic  experiments  have  shown  that  so 
soon  as  an  ascending  column  of  vapor  is  condensed,  iJie  law  of  cooling 
in  its  upward  motion  is  changed,  by  the  heat  set  free,  Jrom  a  degree  to 
about  half  that  quanlily  for  every  hundred  yards  above  the  base  of  the 
cloud ;  that  is,  about  five-eighths  of  a  clegree  for  one  hundred  yards  of 
ascent,  when  the  dew-point  is  about  70  degrees.  If  the  dew-point  is 
higher,  it  cools  a  little  less,  and  if  the  dew-point  is  lower,  it  cools  a 
little  more  than  live-eighths  of  a  degree  in  ascending  one  hundred  yards. 
Now  as  it  is  known  that  the  atmosphere,  free  from  clouds,  on  the  oul,- 
side  of  the  ascending  column  is  colder  about  one  degree  for  every  hun- 
dred yards  in  height,  and  the  ascending  column  itself  becomes. only  five- 
eighths  of  a  degree  colder  for  every  hundred  yards  above  the  base  of  the 
cloud,  it  is  plain  that  the  dry  air  on  the  outside  of  a  cloud  must  he  near- 
ly double  as  cold  as  the  moist  air  within  it,  and  it  follows  that  the  cloud 
must  be  of  a  less  specific  gravity  than  the  surrounding  air  at  the  same 
height.  If  the  top  of  a  cloud,  therefore,  be  six  thousand  yards  higher 
than  its  base,  the  aii  outside  of  its  summit  must  be  twenty-two  degrees 
colder  than  the  uir  iu  the  cloud  \  if  it  be  eight  thousand  yards  higher,  it 


54  THK  AGE  or  PERICLES. 

will  amount  to  thirty  degrees,  and  thns  the  difference,  within  certain 
limits,  will  be  in  proportion  to  its  height.  The  specific  gravity  of  a 
cloud,  also,  of  any  height,  compared  with  that  of  the  surrounding  air  at 
the  same  elevation,  may  be  calculated,  when  the  dew-point  is  given; 
for  its  temperature  is  known  by  experiments  with  the  Nephelescope,  and 
the  quantity  of  vapoi  condensed  by  the  cold  of  diminished  pressure  at 
every  point  of  its  upward  motion,  and  of  course  the  quantity  of  caloric 
of  elasticity  given  out  by  this  condensation  is  known,  and  also  the  ef- 
fect this  caloric  has  in  expanding  the  air  receiving  it,  beyond  the  volume 
it  would  have  if  no  caloric  of  elasticity  was  evolved  in  the  condensa- 
tion of  vapor.  It  will  readily  be  perceived  how  the  respective  specific 
gravities  of  two  bodies  of  air  will  be  affected  by  their  difference  of  tem- 
perature, and  how,  apart  from  other  powerful  causes,  the  barometer  is 
caused  to  fall  by  the  great  expansion  of  the  air  in  consequence  of  the 
immense  evolution  of  latent  caloric,  and  that,  too,  in  proportion  to  its 
heio-ht.  It  will,  also,  be  perceived  how  the  heat,  which  is  set  free  in 
the  cloud,  must  accelerate  the  velocity  of  the  upward  motion,  and  com- 
municate to  the  storm  a  steam  power  of  great  force,  also  proportionate 
to  its  height. 

If,  therefore,  we  know  the  temperature  of  the  air,  and  that  of  the 
dew-point,  we  can  calculate  from  the  laws  already  laid  down,  the  height 
of  the  base  of  the  cloud,  the  amount  of  the  vapor  deposited  there,  the 
temperature  and  amount  of  vapor  and  its  elastic  force  above  the  base, 
and  the  quantity  of  rain  it  must  discharge.  It  certainly  is  most  beauti- 
ful and  surprising,  that  the  thermometer,  which  was  invented  merely  to 
ascertain  the  temperature  of  bodies,  should  reveal  so  much  ! 


THE  AGE  OF  PERICLES.       NO.  I. 

Thucydides  informs  us  that  the  ancient  Grecians  were  a  rude  and 
warlike  people,  subsisting  mainly  upon  the  booty  taken  from  their 
neighbors.  In  the  progress  of  time,  they  united  their  scattered  habita- 
tions and  built  cities,  locating  them  for  the  sake  of  security  on  peninsu- 
las, and  surrounding  them  with  walls.  Gradually  the  unwalled  towns 
and  feebler  cities  yielded  to  the  invasions  of  the  more  powerful,  and 
being  united  to  them,  constituted  what  might  be  called  the  first  form  of 
empire.  In  this  state  of  affairs,  the  Trojan  war  occurred.  The  ten 
years  whicli  were  spent  in  this  memorable  siege  would  naturally  pro- 
duce, in  such  unseulcd  times,  very  important  changes.  Conquests  were 
made  at  home,  as  well  as  attempted  abroad  ;  and  many  of  those  who 
rubhcd  into  the  contcbt  at  the  tiummons  of  Agamennion  and  burned  to 


THE  AGE  OF   PERICLES.  OO 

aveno-e  the  sacred  rites  of  violated  hospitality,  were  compelled   on  their 
return  to  seek  other  lands  and  other  cities  to  dwell  in.     Thus  the  Gre- 
cian name  and  knowledge  and  enterprise   were  more  .widely  diffused. 
Up  to  this  period,  the  form  of  government  seems  to  hav^  been  regal 
witli  limited  powers.     Now,  however,  after  the  disasters  of  the  capture 
of  Ilium  left  upon  the  mind  a  deep  impression  of  the  miseries  of  war 
even  when  followed  by  victory,  the  arts  of  peace  were  sought  and  cul- 
tivated, and  men  directed  their  attention  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth ; 
for  in  all  ages  theie  appears,  in  unregenerate  man,  a  thirst  for  a  display 
either  of  the  pomp  of  power  or  the  splendor  of  riches.     Wealth  thus 
accumulated  furnished  leisure  as  well  as  occasion  for  the  assumption  of 
increased  power.     Thus  factions  were  formed,  and,  tyrants  springing 
up,  there  was  laid  the  foundation  for  numerous  tyrannies.     Thus  Pisis- 
tratus  established  himself  in  Athens,  and,  by  a  course  of  conduct  at  the 
same  time  humane  and  politic,  handed  down  his  power  to  his  posterity. 
Athens,  from  her  position,  rapidly  became  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant cities  in   Greece.     From  the  death   of  Godrus,  the  last  king  of 
Athens,  who  lived  about  the  eleventh  century  before  Christ,  the  form  of 
government  was  continually  tending  more  and  more  toward  a  pure  de- 
mocracy.   Whether  this  is  to  be  ascribed  to  their  increased  intelligence, 
or  to  their  addictedness  to  the  sea,  or  to  their  .peculiar  character  and  cir- 
cumstances, I  will  not  presume  to  determine  ;  perhaps  all  contributed 
something  to  the  attainment  of  this  end.     Perhaps  more  than  all  those 
causes  mentioned  was  their  experience  in  hereditary  Kings,  from  whom 
they  were  glad,  in  a  suitable  time,  to  be  entirely  freed. 

The  position  of  Athens,  early  in  her  history,  gave  her  an  advantage 
over  many  of  her  sister  republics.  The  sterility  of  her  soil  and  her 
commercial  advantages  naturally  and  necessarily  directed  her  attention 
and  efforts  to  the  sea.  Here  she  speedily  excelled,  and,  once  mistress 
of  the  watery  domain,  the  numerous  islands  which  bestud  the  Mediter- 
ranean and  JEgean  seas,  were  glad  to  acknowledge  her  power  and  shel- 
ter themselves  undei  her  overshadowing  protection.  A  sterile  soil  and 
an  excessive  population  gave  occasion  to  the  formation  and  establish- 
ment of  colonies,  and  thus,  like  a  goodly  tree,  her  roots  shot  forth  and 
derived  nourishment  from  other  soils,  and  her  branches  were  nourished 
and  bore  fruit  in  other  climes.  These  colonies,  trafficking  with  the  na- 
tions by  whom  they  were  surrounded,  and  making  with  their  ships  a 
highway  to  the  mother-city,  gave  impulse  to  trade  and  laid  the  founda- 
tion in  part  of  her  future  glory. 

From  the  time  of  Solon,  which  was  630  years  before  Christ,  until 
the  death  of  Pericles,  404  before  Christ,  we  have  the  most  important 


o6  THE   AOK  OF  PERICLES. 

events  in  the  history  of  this  State.  This  period  has  been  divided,  not 
unaptly,  into  three  parts.  1st,  The  age  of  Solon,  or  that  of  the  laws; 
2dly,  The  age  of  Themistocles  and  Aristides,  or  the  age  of  glory;  and 
3dly,  The  age  of  Pericles,  or  that  of  luxury.  These  all  are  related  to 
each  other  as  cause  and  effect.  Our  object  in  mentioning  them,  is  not 
to  expatiate  upon  them,  but,  in  a  cursory  manner,  to  show  the  steps 
which  led  to  the  last  age,  which  is  especially  under  consideration.  The 
laws  of  Solon  contributed  mainly  to  the  establishment  of  a  regular  form 
of  government  based  upon  fixed  principles.  Where  there  are  no  general 
principles  to  which  actions  can  be  referred  and  by  which  their  character 
and  influence  can  be  estimated ;  and  where  there  are  no  laws  explana- 
tory of  those  principles,  there  can  be  no  regular  government.  The  ad- 
judication of  causes  must  then  be  referred  to  the  sword,  and  might  must 
give  right.  Now  the  laws  of  Solon,  even  admitting  that  they  were  ex- 
tremely defective  and  inadequate,  would  contribute  very  much  to  the 
establishment  of  general  peace,  and  would  direct  attention  to  a  more  ra- 
tional and  easy  mode  of  settling  difficulties  than  that  of  the  sword.  It 
is  not  our  intention  to  discuss  the  merits  of  the  laws  of  Solon.  It  will 
be  sufficient  to  state  that  from  the  time  of  the  adoption  of  those  laws, 
Athens  was  comparatively  free  from  the  confusion  and  misrule  which 
liad  previously  prevailed.  Here  then  was  laid  the  foundation  of  her 
future  glory.  It  is  true  Pisistratus,  who  was  coteraporary  with  Solon, 
by  his  eloquence  and  art  succeeded  in  assuming  the  chief  authority, 
which  would  not  be  very  difficult  with  a  people  in  a  state  of  transition 
from  lawlessness  to  the  restraints  of  wholesome  laws.  Yet  even  he, 
we  are  informed  by  Herodotus,  was  wise  enough  to  see  the  importance 
of  maintaining  the  established  order  of  things  even  for  the  security  of 
his  own  person  and  power. 

The  laws  of  Solon  gradually  united  the  different  conflicting  interests 
and  parties  which  formerly  existed,  at  least  so  far  as  to  submit  to  the 
government  of  uniform  laws.  Security  for  person  and  property  was  es- 
tablished. This  furnished  one  of  the  most  efllciont  stimidi  to  trade, 
both  foreign  and  domestic;  wliilst  the  laws  regulating  the  military  fur- 
nished the  best  security  for  the  protection  of  the  city  from  foreign  ene- 
mies. Under  such  a  government,  the  Athenians  aided  their  colonies  in 
Asia  Minor  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  a  powerful  neighbor  and  even  to 
sack  and  burn  his  capital.  Thus  they  gathered  strength  and  renown, 
continually  until,  under  Miltiadcs,  they  were  enabled  to  rout  the  Per- 
sian foe  at  Maratlion,  and  under  Themistocles  and  Aristides  to  destroy 
the  fleet  of  the  most  powerful  monarch  then  known.  Now  the  Athe- 
nian name  was  celebrated  above  that  of  every  other  Grecian  name,  and 


THE  AGE  OF   PERICLES.  57 

Athens  absorbed  and  difl'uscd  the  glory  of  all  Greece.  Now  she  medita- 
ted not  so  much  upon  her  personal  security  as  her  foreign  conquests. 
She  became  arrogant  and  sought  to  give  laws  to  others. 

As  the  laws  of  Solon,  by  consolidating  the  government,  and  making 
it  efficient,  prepared  the  way  for  the  conquests  of  the  Age  of  Themisto- 
cles  and  Aristides,  so  the  latter  gave  occasion  to  the  introduction  of  the 
luxuries  of  foreign  countries  and  furnished  the  most  abundant  leisure 
and  means  for  their  enjoyment. 

The  condition  of  Athens  during  the  age  of  Pericles,  which  includes 
about  a  half  century  from  the  battle  of  Platea  to  the  memorable  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war,  is  biiefly  given  in  the  language  of  a  distinguished  histo- 
rian, (Gillies) :  '••A  single  republic,  one  of  Sixteen  States,  whose  united 
possessions  hardly  equalled  the  extent  of  Scotland,  and  whose  particu- 
lar territory  is  scarcely  visible  in  a  map  of  the  world,  carried  on  an  of- 
fensive war  against  the  Persian  empire,  and,  though  surrounded  by  jeal- 
ous allies  and  open  enemies,  prosecuted  this  extraordinary  enterprise 
with  unexampled  success  :  at  length,  granting  such  conditions  of  peace 
as  the  pride  of  victory  may  dictate  and  the  weight  of  accumulated  dis- 
asters condescended  to  solicit  or  accept.  In  that  narrow  space  of  time 
the  same  republic  erected  on  the  feeble  basis  of  her  scanty  population 
and  diminutive  territory  a  migiity  mass  of  empire;  established  and  con- 
firmed her  authority  over  the  extent  of  a  thousand  miles  of  the  Asiatic 
coast,  from  Cyprus  to  the  Thraciun  Bosphorus;  took  possession  of  the 
forty  intermediate  islands,  together  with  the  important  straits  which  join 
the  Euxine  and  ^gean  seas;  conquered  and  colonized  the  winding 
shores  of  Macedon  and  Thrace ;  commanded!  the  coast  of  the  Euxine 
power  Pontus  to  the  Chersonesus  Taurica,  or  Crim  Tartary  ;  and  over- 
awing the  barbarous  natives  by  the  experienced  terrors  of  her  fleet, 
protected  against  their  injustice  and  violence,  but  at  the  same  time  con- 
verted to  the  purposes  of  her  own  ambition  and  interest,  the  numerous 
but  scattered  colonies  which  Miletus  and  other  Greek  cities  of  Asia  had 
at  various  times  established  in  those  remote  regions.  Our  wonder  will 
be  justly  increased,  when  we  consider  that  Athens  obtained  those  im- 
mortal trophies,  not  over  ignorant  savages,  or  effeminate  slaves,  but  over 
men  who  had  the  same  language  and  laws,  the  same  blood  and  lineage, 
the  same  arts  and  arms,  in  short  every  thing  common  with  the  victors 
but  their  audacity  and  fortune.  " 

But  the  glory  o^f  Athens  did  not  consist  merely  nor  chiefly  in  her 
conquests  and  extensive  possession.  The  arts  of  peace  were  no  less  in- 
dustriously cultivated  than  those  of  war.  Whilst  her  fleets  rode  in  tri- 
umph throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Mediterranean,  they  as- 


'58  ADVANTAGE  OF  RULES 

siduously  cultivated  at  home  the  arts  of  peace,  and  by  the  refinements 
of  their  domestic  occupations,  threw  a  softening  influence  over  the  asper- 
ities of  war.  We  are  prone,  in  perusing  the  history  of  the  past,  to 
fasten  our  attention  and  to  gaze  with  admiration  upon  the  glorious  ex- 
ploits of  military  chieftains.  Battles,  sieges  and  all  the  horrors  of  war 
lead  the  imagination  captive,  as  if  the  human  mind  delighted  most  in 
the  contemplation  of  blood  and  slaughter.  We  are  very  much  mista- 
ken if  we  suppose  that  the  consequences  flowing  from  the  desolations 
of  mighty  conquerors  are  to  be  compared  in  the  extent  of  their  influ- 
ence upon  society  with  the  arts  of  peace.  The  one  is  the  result  of  brute 
force,  the  other  of  reason  and  intelligence.  The  one  descends  upon  the 
earth  like  a  tornado  wasting  and  destroying  every  thing  lying  in  its  path. 
The  other  diffusing  itself  gradually,  like  the  genial  heat  of  the  opening 
spring,  pervades  all  classes  of  society,  cheering  and  invigorating. 


ADVANTAGE  OF  RULES  ON  ELOQUENCE. 

The  nature  of  suitable  rides  to  direct  us  in  the  study  of  eloquence, 
as  well  as  our  own  experience,  proves  that  they  are  highly  important, 
and  that  without  a  knowledge  of  them,  we  can  accomplish  but  little  in 
that  interesting  and  most  beautiful  art.  But  the  nature  of  these  rules 
^  and  our  experience,  also  teach  us,  on  the  other  hand,  that  we  may  pos- 
sess a  knowledge  of  them,  and  yet  derive  little  or  no  advantage  from  it. 
Apart  from  learrfing  and  genius,  rules  are  of  no  advantage  in  the  elabo- 
ration of  a  discourse,  except  it  be  to  enable  us  to  judge  more  accurately 
of  its  plan  and  arrangement.  In  connection  with  genius,  rules  are  un- 
doubtedly of  great  advantage  ;  yet  they  cannot  teach  us  their  proper  ap- 
plication ;  this  must  be  managed  by  our  own  good  judgment  and  taste. 

Rules  may  even  lead  a  good  genius  astray.  They  are  general  and 
imperfect,  and  not  always  necessary.  Much  is  left  for  the  writer  or 
speaker  who  has  even  the  most  extensive  knowledge  of  rules  and  direc- 
tions to  accomplish.  Good  rules  on  eloquence  may  be  regarded  as  pre- 
scriptions of  sound  reason,  which  are  founded  on  experience,  and  the 
nature  of  things.  They  are  laws  which  arise  from  the  nature  of  the 
art  itself. 

Our  object  in  speaking  or  writing  is  evidently  to  convince  and  move 
the  minds  of  men,  who  have  precisely  the  same  nature  which  we  pos- 
sess ourselves,  and  therefore  our  own  understanding  and  feelings  should 
direct  us.  Experience  will  show  whether  we  have  collected  and  inven- 
ted the  most  appropriate  matter,  and  whether  it  has  been  most  success- 
fully arranged.     Our  feelings  will  teach  us  how  the  subject  must  be 


Oi\  ELOQUENCE.  59 

managed,  if  it  would  enlighten  our  understanding,  afford  us  pleasure, 
and  move  our  hearts  in  its  favor.  By  adopting  this  view  we  can  con- 
ceive of  specimens  of  eloquence  previously  to  rules  on  eloquence. — 
Men  of  deep  penetration  and  great  mind  spoke  without  a  knowledge 
of  rules.  They  followed  the  path  which  good  sense  and  their  feelings 
pointed  out,  and  by  doing  so  became  models  of  eloquence  from  whose 
examples  rules  have  been  derived.  Eloquence  therefore  is  more  ancient 
than  the  rules  on  eloquence.  But  it  may  also  be  said  that  the  rules  aie 
more  ancient,  for  they  existed  and  were  present  in  the  minds  of  great 
men,  before  they  wrote  or  spoke,  otherwise  we  would  not  find  them  in 
their  works.  Good  rules  on  eloquence  are  not  arbitrary  principles,  but 
precepts  of  reason  and  sentiment,  which,  if  properly  used,  are  of  great 
value.  To  disregard  rules  altogether  is  to  write  or  speak  at  random. — 
It  is  an  attempt  to  attain  the  end,  without  employing  means  ;  and  to  have 
neither  plan  nor  arrangement  by  which  to  cultivate  and  improve  the 
mind.  Can  we  reasonably  expect  to  profit  and  instruct  without  obser- 
ving the  laws  of  order,  perspicuity  and  profoundness  ?  Can  we  please 
without  gracefulness  ;  or  touch  the  heart  without  impression  1:  Will  it 
answer  to  depend  exclusively  upon  the  understanding  or  feeling  for 
rules,  whenever  they  are  needed  ?  Is  it  safe  for  us  to  argue  that  the 
rules  are  more  recent  than  the  works  that  contain  them  ?  But  we  should 
bear  in  mind  that  they  were  not  discovered  at  once,  nor  by  one  individ- 
ual ;  it  was  by  long  and  tedious  practice,  by  much  experience,  that  they 
were  discovered,  tested  and  prepared  foi  use.  He,  therefore,  who  re- 
jects all  rules  and  directions  on  eloquence,  and  will  follow  nothing  save 
his  own  feelings  and  genius,  presumes  to  accomplish  himself,  what  ma- 
ny chaster  spirits  scarcely  accomplished.  But  we  may  moreover  ask, 
does  he  possess  that  genius  which  they  possessed  who  discovered  the 
rules  of  eloquence  ?  Is  he  placed  in  those  happy  circumstances  in 
which  they  were  placed  to  make  trial  of  his  genius?  Has  he  already 
the  decision  of  the  wise  and  the  great  in  his  favor.''  Suppose  we  could 
find  the  road  to  a  distant  country  without  way-marks;  would  we  not 
be  able  to  travel  more  safely  and  speedily  by  means  of  their  assistance  ? 
Would  it  be  vvise  to  plunge  into  the  stream,  and  pay  no  attention  to  the 
direction  of  those  who  have  been  taught  by  experience,  the  advantages 
of  swimming,  because  the  first  swimmers  discovered  them  without  di- 
rections and  at  the  peril  of  their  lives  ?  Suitable  rules  on  eloquence 
teach  us  to  please,  to  in.struct,  and  to  move  •,  they  give  us  the  mode  by 
which  others  have  done  so  in  the  most  successful  martner ;  they  are  the 
echo  of  reason — the  voice  of  nature,  and  as  such  are  entitled  to  our  at- 
tention and  respect.  .].  .T. 


60 

epistles  tu  students.     no.  iv. 
Young  Gentlemen  : 

There  remains  of  your  matriculation  oath  "  all  kinds  of  gam- 
bling" together  with  "  indecent,  disorderly  behavior."  Before  the  au- 
thorities of  the  institution  and  in  the  presence  of  the  Searcher  of  hearts 
you  promise,  on  your  truth  and  honor,  to  abstain  from  all  kinds  of  gam- 
bling. "  Play  for  something  possessing  value,  or  for  money  which  is 
the  representative  of  it,  is  gambling,  in  a  definition  sufficiently  explicit 
for  our  purposes.  Generically  considered,  it  is  a  unit.  There  are  vari- 
ous methods  or  instruments  which  are  employed  in  play,  and  by  which 
men  gamble.  Amongst  these  may  be  enumerated  cards,  dice,  chess, 
backgammon,  &c.  The  passion  for  play  is  one  that  is  well  understood. 
ft  has  been  so  often  developed  and  thrown  before  the  observation  of 
men,  in  its  phases,  as  to  have  made  it  familiar  to  every  student  of  the 
passions. 

Its  violent,  furious,  indomitable  character,  when  formed,  has  often 
been  manifested.  The  period  of  life  which  may  be  regarded  as  most 
exposed  to  this  vice  is  youtli.  The  period  which  needs  most  to  be 
guarded  is  youth.  Incapable  of  counting  the  cost,  or  of  having  "  res- 
pect to  the  end,"  the  young  may  insensibly  glide  from  a  play  of  amuse- 
ment to  one  of  a  small  stake,  and  then  to  the  daring  spirit  of  cupidity 
whicli  risks  every  thing  on  the  chances  of  a  game.  The  habit  of  gam- 
bling easily  formed,  is  broken  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  Started  in 
early  life,  it  groAvs  with  us  and  cleaves  to  its  victim  with  unyielding  per- 
tinacity. It  forebodes  evil  and  only  evil.  The  fondness  for  play,  most 
absorbing  in  its  cliaracter,  disqualifies  the  mind  for  all  active  effort.  Jt 
awakens  the  expectation  of  gain,  and  affluence  without  labor.  It  spurs 
on  to  risks  which  incurred  are  followed  often  by  the  most  fatal  results. 
It  is  the  fruitful  source  of  crimes  than  which  none  blacker  are  found  in 
the  catalogue  of  human  guilt.  It  is  associated  with  deception,  fraud, 
theft,  robbery,  murder,  and  has  often,  very  often,  been  the  cause  of  self- 
slaughter.  The  gambler  and  the  seducer,  the  gaml)ler  and  the  licentious, 
the  gambler  and  the  profane,  the  gambler  and  the  Sal)bath-brcaker  are 
often  found  in  the  same  person.  So  odious  is  this  vice  that  it  hides  it- 
self from  the  public  gaze.  The  man  who  practices  it,  wishes  it  to  be 
concealed.  Tlie  word,  that  designates  it,  is  associated  with  the  most  re- 
volting ideas. 

The  gambler  is  despised,  rejected  of  men,  and  the  wealth,  which  he 
may  possess,  cannot  wash  away  his  hideous  moral  deformity,  but  it  re- 
mains in  the  just  judgment  of  right  thinking  and  virtuous  men.  If  this 
estimate  should  ai)pcar  di:?proporlioned  to  the  oflcucc,  it  will  easily  pre- 


EPlSTLEb  TO  STUDENTS.  6i 

sent  itself  in  a  tiifilTcnl  light,  if  wc  take  into  consideration  what  is  in- 
volved in  it.  It  takes,  or  it  aims  to  take  the  property  of  a  fellow-being 
without  rendering  him  an  equivalent.  It  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of  re- 
ciprocity. It  cannot  be  reconciled  with  fidelity  to  that  precept  of  the 
decalogue  which  says  ^'-  thou  shalt  not  steal. ''^  It  is  lumted  down  by 
the  legislation  of  every  country  whose  moral  standard  is  right,  prohibited 
in  many  lands  by  enactments  sanctioned  by  powerful  penalties.  It  is 
scouted  from  society  by  the  virtuous  and  good.  The  estimate  made 
of  it  by  all  sound  ethical  writers  is  well  expressed  in  the  following  ci- 
tation from  an  eminent  Scotch  moralist:  "  The  Gambler,  therefore,  is 
guilty  of  a  direct  violation  of  the  law  of  God,  in  plundering  the  pro- 
perty of  others,  and  reducing  them  to  poverty  and  wretchedness  ;  and 
proves  himself  by  such  conduct  to  be  void  of  piety,  benevolence,  or 
humanity.  Me  is  a  source  of  evil  by  his  example,  as  well  as  by  his 
actions;  a  corrupter  of  youth,  stealing  from  them  not  their  property 
only,  but  what  is  infinitely  more  valuable,  their  virtue  and  their  happi- 
ness ;  and  doing  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  their  retreat  from  the  road 
that  inevitably  leads  to  present  and  eternal  ruin.  Gambling — to  what 
extent  of  criminality  and  misery  does  it  not  lead  its  votaries  ?  It  opens 
up  a  way  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  come  fully  within  its  influence, 
to  the  fiends  of  hell,  to  take  up  their  abode  and  hurry  them  along  to 
crimes  of  darker  and  still  darker  hue — to  robbery  and  murder, — till  at 
length  the  earthly  course  of  guilt  is  often  terminated  by  suicide,and  the 
liberated  spirit,  utterly  depraved,  becomes  the  eternal  associate  of  spir- 
its as  wretched  and  hopeless  in  depravity  as  itself.  How  much  would 
be  gained  to  the  high  interests  of  man,  were  this  source  of  moral  waste 
and  destruction,  which  has  turned  many  a  youth  originally  generous:, 
into  an  unfeeling  seducer,  a  cruel  and  relentless  oppressor,  a  fraudulent 
member  of  society,  a  remorseless  assassin,  a  sclf-tormentcd  and  misera- 
ble suicide,  entirely  removed  from  our  land  and  still  more  severely  de- 
nounced by  the  strongest  prohibitions  and  penalties  of  law.  " 

In  view  of  these  most  terrible  results,  not  in  the  least  exaggerated, 
your  College  imposes  upon  you,  in  great  kindness,  obligations  carefully 
to  abstain  from  every  species  of  gambling.  There  would  be  a  criminal 
neglect  of  your  best  interests  if  you  were  not  guarded  with  all  the  vig- 
ilance that  can  be  exerted  against  the  formation  of  a  habit  so  pernicious. 
With  the  oath  prescribed  bound  upon  your  souls  and  aided  by  the  relig- 
ious and  moral  truth  presented  to  you  from  time  to  time,  the  hope  is  en- 
tertained that  you  will  go  forth  from  her  enclosures  and  pass  away  from 
her  courts,  untarnished  by  this  foul  oflence.  She  cannot  connive  at  in- 
fractions of  her  regulations  on  so  important  a  point,  and  any  severity 


62  REMINISCENCES  OF 

she  can  exercise  in  the  ministration  of  her  discipline  will  not  adequate- 
ly express  her  abhorrence  of  the  offence,  hei  deep  solicitude  for  her 
sons,  and  her  firm  determination  to  do  all  that  she  can  to  keep  them  un- 
harmed. 

Would  that  every  young  man  could  duly  appreciate  the  wisdom  of 
those  regulations  which  guard  his  access  to  the  waters  of  destruction ! 
Would  that  all  could  cheerfully  submit  to  the  prescriptions  of  wisdom, 
designed  to  preserve  them  from  the  most  fatal  maladies  !  Against  this 
vice,  then,  in  conclusion,  whilst  we  point  out  the  reasonableness  of  the 
requisition  made  of  you,  be  warned.  Let  nothing  induce  you  to  take 
the  first  step.  Touch  not;  handle  not.  Let  no  plea  however  insinua- 
ting, no  consideration  however  captivating,  lead  you  to  make  the  initia- 
tive— for  here,  if  any  where,  may  it  be  said  : 

"  Facilis  descenaus  Jlverni : 
JYocfes  atquc  dies  pafet  alri  janua  DUis  : 
Sed  rcvocare  gradum.,  superasque  evadcre  ad  cmras, 
Hoc  opus.)  hie  labor  est.  " 

Your's,  affectionately. 


REMIXI.SCENCES  OF  STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY. 

As  I  threw  aside  the  Journal  this  evening  after  reading  the  interest- 
ing article  of  your  correspondent  J.  G.  M.  in  which  he  draws  to  the  life 
the  portraits  of  some  of  his  German  acquaintances,  I  was  carried  back 
in  imagination  to  the  golden  days  of  my  sojourn  in  the  land  of  meer- 
schaums and  thought.  Trom  the  study  of  Burmeister,  the  parlor  of 
Krug  and  the  attic  store-room  of  Erickson,  to  which  his  interest  had  led 
me,  my  thoughts  soon  wandered  to  the  Kriinzchen  of  Neander,  the  lec- 
ture-room of  Tholuck,  the  English  re-union  in  Halle,  the  pietistic  Knipe, 
the  Fackelziige,  Stiindchen,  Fechtboden,  IMuseum,  Comitat,  &c.  Sec,  the 
novelties,  adventures,  discomforts,  &.c.,  of  three  terms  experience  at  Ger- 
man universities.  How  I  happened  to  fall  upon  the  idea  of  sharing  the 
pleasure  of  such  reminiscences  with  the  readers  of  the  Journal,  need 
not  now  be  told.  Enough  for  me  if  some  of  them  derive  from  these 
hasty  sketches  a  lithe  of  the  satisfaction  their  preparation  affords 

A  constant  reader  of  the  Journal. 

AN  ACADEMICAL  COMMUNION. 

As  we  were  sitting  one  day  near  the  close  of  the  winter  session  of 
1842-3,  in  the  largest  lecture-room  of  the  University  at  Halle,  busily 
engaged  in  taking  down  the  well  j)olishcd  paragraphs  of  Julius  Midler's 


STUDENT   LIFE   IN  GERMANY.  63' 

system  of  Dogmatics,  a  paper  was  passed  round  from  bench  to  bench, 
that  was  rapidly  filling  up  with  the  signatures  of  the  Herren  Studiosi. — 
Wondering  what  the  popular  theme  might  be,  I  reluctantly  withheld  my 
pen  for  a  moment  and  glanced  over  the  heading  of  the  list.  Its  purport 
was  something  like  this :  "•  Those   students  desiring  to  partake  of  the 

Lord's  Supper  according  to  the  statutes  of  the  University  in  the 

church,  are  requested  to  subscribe  their  names. "    Signed 

Marks, 
Universitdts-Prediger. 

Now  I  at  once  perceived  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  names  on 
the  list  before  me  were  those  of  young  men  who  made  no  pretension 
to  piety  and  the  idea  of  communing  with  such  was  repulsive  to  me. — 
Had  1  followed  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  should  have  passed  the 
list  on  to  my  neighbor.  But  there  were  also  the  names  of  some  bosom 
friends,  whom  I  loved  for  many  reasons,  but  most  for  their  unaffected 
and  ardent  devotion  to  the  Savior;  they  intended  to  commune.  Besides, 
this  was  the  first  opportunity  I  had  enjoyed  since  the  delightful  season 
in  Father  Gossner's  church  in  Berlin,  six  months  before.  I  signed  the 
paper  and  gave  my  ear  again  to  Prof.  Miiller. 

Now  I  can  easily  imagine  that  some  who  read  this  will  ask  :  "Was 
our  friend  listening  to  a  course  of  lectures  on  theology  in  company  with 
crowds  of  young  men  who  profess  no  practical  acquaintance  with  reli- 
gion ^ "  Certainly  !  Piety  is  not  essential  to  a  theological  student  in 
Germany.  The  pious  students  at  Halle  form  a  very  small  minority  of 
the  theologicals,  to  say  nothing  of  those  attending  the  lectures  of  the 
other  faculties.  Though  the  fact  is  cheering  that  the  proportion  is  rap- 
idly changing  about  under  the  influence  of  Tholuck,  Miiller,  Leo,  Gue- 
ricke.  Sic. 

"But  how  does  it  come  that  such  young  men  attend  the  lectures  of 
Muller,  whom  you  mention  in  the  same  breath  with  Guericke,  the  iron- 
bound  orthodox  Altlutheraner,  and  Tholuck,  the  gentle  but  fervid  piet- 
ist .^ "  The  solution  is  easy.  Miiller's  course  on  Dogmatics  has  the 
reputation  of  being  the  very  best  that  can  be  listened  to,  at  present,  at 
any  German  University.  It  is  the  course  at  the  Theological  Univer- 
sity, Halle.  Besides,  it  is  positive ;  old  Wegscheider,  the  father  of 
modern  rationalism,  still  lectured  there,  but  his  day  is  over ;  he  is 
it'iisserig,  negative,  destructive.  IMiiller  is  scientific,  thorough,  con- 
sistent, sincere.  I  confess  it  was  rather  a  puzzle  to  me  at  first  to  see 
young  men,  whom  I  met  daily  at  the  public  table,  where  I  was  compel- 
led to  hear  their  ridicule  of  all  that  is  good,  sitting  under  such  powerful 
reasoning  in  behalf  of  evangelical  doctrine  and  so  diligently  following 


64  REMINlSCEiVCES  OF 

the  eloquent  lecturer  as  he  demolished  o)ie  infidel  objection  after  anoth- 
er and  held  forth  the  simple  truth  of  the  gospel  in  brilliant  purity. 

To  return  from  this  digression.  Some  days  after  the  incident  above 
mentioned  took  place,  1  told  it  to  several  of  my  Anglo-Saxon  fellow- 
students  (Ker,  Scott  and  Creak)  and  prevailed  on  them  to  bear  me 
company.  We  made  bold  to  call  upon  Prof.  Marks,  and  seek  his  ac- 
quaintance, though  we  did  not  expect  to  derive  much  benefit  from  it,  as 
lie  has  reputation  of  standing  upon  jniddle-grmmd,  neilher  one  thing  nor 
the  other,  orthodox  nor  rationalistic.  He  of  course  received  us  kindly 
and  had  many  questions  to  ask  about  England,  Scotland  and  America, 

The  day  preceding  the  communion  sabbath  we  attended  preparatory 
service  (Beichte),  concerning  which  my  memory  has  nothing  to  report 
and  my  memoranda  depose  naught  save  my  astonishment  that  so  few, 
comparatively,  of  the  students  who  intended  to  communicate,  were 
present. 

There  was  a  large  congregation  assembled  on  the  following  day.  As 
we  went  early  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  secure  seats,  but  the  broad 
paved  aisles  were  nearly  fdled  by  our  Comrnilitonen,  standing  listlessly 
about  in  tlieir  fantastically-braided  tabby  velvet  coats,  and  mustachios 
neatly  twirled.  The  usual  liturgical  services  having  been  attended  to  at 
the  altar,  the  Rev.  gentleman  ascended  the  pulpit,  which,  as  is  custom- 
ary in  those  large  Gothic  churches,  was  attached  to  a  pillar  on  the  side 
of  the  principal  nave,  and  delivered  a  very  tame  discourse,  savoring 
strongly  of  Werkheiligkeit,  from  the  words :  "Ye  are  my  friends,  if  ye 
do  whatsoever  I  command  you."  John  15:  14.  This  over,  he  descen- 
ded, marched  solemnly  up  the  long  cential  aisle  to  the  high  altar  at  the 
one  end  of  the  church  and  commenced  the  consecration  of  the  ele- 
ments. With  his  back  to  the  people  he  prayed  over  them  and  then  be- 
gan to  chauni  the  Eiiisetzungsworte.  This  was  peculiarly  impressive. 
The  venerable  old  man  whose  trembling  voice  could  scarcely  be  heard 
through  the  great  length  of  the  building,  was  accompanied  by  the  sub- 
dued tones  of  the  organ  at  the  opposite  end  of  tlie  nave ;  the  congrega- 
tion stood  between.  In  the  interludes  the  high  vaulted  arches  rang  with 
the  loud  peals  of  the  organ  and  again  all  was  still — another  sentence  of 
the  solemn  cliaunt  followed  in  thrilling  contrast,  and  thus  alternating 
until  the  words  of  consecration  and  tiie  Lord's  prayer  had  been  sung. 

Tlje  communicants  then  approached  the  altar.  Mounting  upon  the 
spacious  platform  before  the  low  railing  that  separates  the  high  altar 
(holy  of  holies)  from  the  body  of  the  nave,  we  stood  in  a  crowd  upon 
the  left  of  the  preacher,  who  had  now  turned  about  with  his  face  to- 
wards the  congregation.     Approaching  him  in  single  file  we  received 


STUDENT  LIFE  ]N  GERMANY,  65 

the  emblems  from  his  hands  and  passing  on  towards  the  right  of  the 
preacher  stood  until  all  had  partaken,  awaiting  his  hencdiction.  Thus 
ended  the  ceremony. 

The  next  day,  happening  to  drop  in  at  my  friend  Keller's,  (a  student 
from  Ham,  in  Westphalia,)  I  found  him  walking  rapidly  up  and  down 
the  room,  wringing  his  hands,  as  if  in  agony,  with  the  tears  chasing 
each  other  down  his  cheeks.  "  Ach,  main  Gott !  ungliicklicher  Mensch ! 
Ach,  was  soil  ich  machen  r"  He  was  evidently  in  great  distress,  and 
seemed  so  completely  overcome  that  I  scarcely  knew  how  to  begin  to 
comfort  him.  But  I  soon  found  out  the  cause  of  his  grief.  He  had 
gone  to  Professor  Marks,  according  to  the  statute,  on  the  day  after  the 
communion  season,  to  obtain  a  certificate  from  him  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  there.  (Such  a  certificate,  signed  by  the  University  preacher, 
must  be  presented  by  the  applicant  for  licensure  !)  But  the  Professor 
had  refused  to  give  him  one,  and  now,  what  in  the  world  was  he  to  do  ? 
The  end  of  the  session  was  at  hand,  he  was  about  to  leave  Halle,  and 
would  not  have  another  opportunity  of  communing.  "But  why  did  he 
refuse,  my  dear  Keller,  you  certainly  were  there.?"  "He  asked  me 
what  the  text  was,  and  I  could  not  tell  him  ;  he  asked  for  the  divisions 
of  the  sermon,  and  I  could  not  give  them.  "Es  war  auch  solch  eine 
erbarmliche  Predigt,  wie  Du  wohl  weisst,  ich  habe  wenig  darauf  geach- 
tet."  "But  you  ought  to  have  been  able  to  tell  him  something  about 
it."  "  Oh,  I  was  so  scared  at  the  very  idea  of  losing  my  certificate  that 
I  scarcely  knew  where  I  was,  and  I  could  not  answer  him  a  word." 
"  Well,  there's  no  use  in  your  crying  about  it;  I  know  that  you  were 
there,  and  1  will  prove  it  to  him.  Stop — Ker  was  there,  too,  and  Scott, 
and  Creak.  Get  your  hat — we  will  hunt  them  up  and  soon  set  the 
matter  straight."  With  this,  Plitt,  (a  Moravian  from  Herrnhut,  Keller's 
Stubenbursch,)  came  in,  and  finding  us  just  about  as  well  warmed  up  as 
we  could  be  without  being  uncontrollable,  begged  us  to  wait  until  the 
Professor's  Sprechstunde  arrived,  suggesting  that  he  would  receive  us 
more  graciously  then,  but  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  we  would  be  some- 
what cooled  oft'  by  that  time.  We  consented,  and  in  the  evening  Ker 
and  Scott  called  with  us  at  his  house.  We  were  conducted  up  the  long, 
dark,  narrow  stairway,  and  left  to  wait  awhile  in  the  diminutive  study, 
with  the  old  earthen  stove  lifting  itself  up  nearly  to  the  ceiling  in  one 
corner,  the  indispensable  sofa  and  sofa  table,  and  the  prospect  of  dilap- 
idated walls  and  tiled  roofs  extending  a  few  rods  from  the  windows. 
Atlengtli  the  old  gentleman  appeared  with  a  bland  smile  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. He  appeared  so  courteous  that  my  wrath  began  to  ooze  out 
of  my  finger  ends;  but  1,  as  rather  the  better  German  of  the  three 
9 


66  REMIN5SCENCES  OF   &C. 

foreigners,  had  been  appointed  spokesman,  and  there  was  no  escape. 
'"We  were  exceedingly  grieved  to  learn,  Herr  Professor,  that  you  refused 
our  friend  Keller  the  customary  certificate,  and  have  come  for  the  pur- 
pose of  testifying  that  he  was  present."  He  was  thunderstruck.  Re- 
covering himself,  as  so  old  a  gentleman  could  no  doubt  easily  do,  he 
reflected  a  moment,  and  then  abruptly  looked  me  in  the  face  and  asked 
me  for  the  text !  Now  it  was  my  turn  to  be  thunderstruck.  The 
blood  rushed  to  my  face,  I  felt  it  glowing,  could  scarcely  trust  my 
senses.  My  companions  sat  petrified.  Now,  as  my  dear  friend  Keller 
had  said,  there  was  really  nothing  worth  remembering  in  the  sermon, 
and  it  was  only  its  peculiarly  inappropriate  character  that  had  impressed 
some  portions  of  it  upon  my  mind.  1  very  distinctly  remember  that 
when  he  announced  his  text  the  thought  at  once  occurred  to  me  that  he 
could  noi  have  searched  long  for  a  suitable  theme.  And  as  I  feared 
from  what  I  had  heard  of  him,  the  discourse  was  filled  with  doing,  doing, 
it  remained  altogether  on  the  surface. 

Now,  the  mere  fact  of  being  thus  catechised  by  him,  when  we  came 
as  three  theological  students  to  testify  to  so  simple  a  fact,  the  refusal  to 
believe  which,  upon  the  testimony  of  our  esteemed  and  truly  pious 
friend  Keller,  had  roused  our  indignation,  was  enough  to  overcome  my 
self-command  ;  but  what  made  the  matter  infinitely  worse,  and  com- 
pletely confused  me,  was  the  fact  that  /  did  not.  recollect  the  text  myself; 
that  is,-  I  could  not  give  it  to  him  in  the  German  version.  I  looked 
around  ;  Keller  was  in  tears.  It  was  too  much.  Starting  from  my 
seat,  I  gave  the  Professor  such  a  description  of  the  sermon  as  con- 
vinced him  I  had  heard  it,  and  then  expressed  my  amazement  at  the 
course  he  had  pursued,  begging  his  pardon,  at  the  same  time,  for  what- 
ever might  seem  improper  in  my  remarks,  but  assuring  him  that  the 
whole  affair  had  seemed  so  incongruous  and  inexplicable  to  me  that 
that  must  be  my  apology.  He  rose,  and  with  a  kindness  of  manner 
that  I  could  scarcely  expect,  said  he  was  very  willing  to  excuse  me,  for 
he  knew  I  was  unacquainted  with  the  peculiarly  unpleasant  situation  in 
which  he  was  placed.  "  The  discharge  of  my  duty,  gentlemen,  in  this 
matter  of  giving  certificates,  occasions  me  more  pain  than  you  can  well 
conceive.  These  young  gentlemen  sign  the  paper  that  is  presented  to 
tliem ;  1  count  the  names  and  order  just  that  number  of  wafers  to  be 
procured.  Some  twenly-five  or  thirty  of  these  are  not  used,  and  yet  all 
the  young  men  come  to  me  to  certify  that  they  have  been  at  the  com- 
munion table,  and  upon  my  certificate  may  depend  their  admission  to 
the  ministry.  Now,  1  do  not  know  the  fourth  part  of  them,  and  yon 
can  easily  imagine  how   I   feel  when  called  upon  to  testify  to  what  is 


EXl'EniMENTS  0\  LIGHTS.  67 

probably  an  untruth.  Must  I  not  endeavor  to  sati&fy  myself  of  the  fact 
in  the  first  instance  ?  Now  this  gentleman  could  not  tell  me  the  divi- 
sions of  the  discourse,  nor  even  the  text.  In  a  common  citizen  1  could 
excuse  this,  but  in  a  theological  student,  and  upon  such  an  occasion, 
it  is  enough  to  convince  me  that  he  was  not  present,  especially  when  i 
have  in  my  possession  the  untouched  wafers  that  prove  how  many  of 
the  subscribers  did  not  commune."  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  reply. 
So  they  then  actually  have  to  drive  theological  students  to  the  altar  in 
Germany !  And  do  theological  students  lie  about  this  sacred  ordinance 
in  so  shameless  a  manner  ?  Yet  this  is  the  testimony  of  the  Universi- 
t'ats  Prediger  himself,  and  under  circumstances  where  the  whole  truth  is 
drawn  out.  I  was  grieved  to  the  heart,  and  could  only  say  to  the  Pro- 
fessor: that  I  thanked  God  such  things  were  unheard  of  in  my  native 
land.  1  told  him  that  among  us  piety  was,  among  all  evangelical  deno- 
minations, regarded  as  the  first  and  most  essential  requisite  in  a  theolo- 
gical student,  and  that  where  this  was  found  all  such  ecclesiastical  police 
regulations  were  unnecessary. 

May  God  have  mercy  on  our  church  in  Germany ! 


EXPERIMENTS  ON  LIGHTS. 

Mr.  Editor: 

As  a  number  of  compositions  have  been  recently  brouglit  into  use 
professedly  superior  to  the  ordinary  materials  foi  producing  light,  I 
concluded  to  test  the  relative  economy  of  several  preparations  which  1 
suppose  to  be  analogous  to  those  offered  for  sale,  and  as  the  results  may 
be  of  some  value  I  place  them  in  your  hands. 

Chemistry  makes  known  to  us  but  few  substances  which  from  their 
cheapness  and  illuminating  power  can  be  used  for  the  preparation  of 
lights.  Among  these  alcohol,  camphor,  turpentine,  rosin,  tallow,  lard, 
■wax  and  oil  are  almost  the  only  ones  that  are  adapted  to  this  purpose. 
Pine  oil,  caraphine,  &.c.  have  not  been  included  in  the  list  as  tlicy 
doubtless  consist  essentially  of  oil  of  turpentine. 

The  experiments  were  commenced  by  graduating  a  test-tube  so  that 
each  division  represented  tenths  and  hundredths  of  air  avoirdupois  ounce 
of  water,  and  obtaining  the  specific  gravities  of  the  fluids  employed  in 
a  manner  sufliciently  accurate  to  give  the  relative  weights.  It  was  found 
that 

1  Gallon  of  turpentine  weighed  7.25  lbs.  specific  gravity  .869 
1         "         alcohol  '•  7.17  lbs.       "  «         .859 

1        '•         water  -         S.34  lbs.      '•  '•       1.000 


68 


EXPERIMENTS 


Alcohol  will  readily  dissolve  50  per  cent,  by  weight  of  camphor, 
and  the  solutions  used  were  of  this  strength. 

Exp.  1. 
34  oz.  of  solution  of  camphor  burned  1  hour,  light  very  good. 
32  oz.  of  dip  candle  "         1  hour,  light  less  white. 

The  camphor  solution  costs  30  cents  per  lb. 

The  candle  costs  10  cents  per  lb, 

Exp.  2. 

A  mixture  of  alcohol  and  turpentine  was  placed  in  a  graduated  tube, 
from  which  it  appeared,  at  first,  that  about  eight  measures  of  the  former 
were  required  to  enter  into  combination  with  one  of  the  latter,  but  af- 
ter standing  for  some  days  the  proportion  was^found  to  be  10  to  1. 
This  mixture  burned  well,  but  the  light  was  inferior  to  that  of  a  candle ; 
it  did  not  smoke  or  consume  the  wick,  and  when  burned  side  by  side 
with  a  portion  of  the  composition  recently  sold  about  town,  appealed 
to  be  identical  with  it  in  every  respect. 

This  light  was  greatly  improved  by  the  addition  of  camphor.  The 
expense  of  camphor  rendering  it  desirable  that  a  cheaper  substitute 
should  be  employed,  a  portion  of  powdered  rosin  was  tried  :  this  enter- 
ed into  combination  readily  with  the  alcohol  and  turpentine,  and  im-. 
proved  the  light;  but  the  wick  blackened,  and  after  burning  for  some 
time  a  crust  was  formed. 

After  a  variety  of  experiments  the  object  of  which  was  to  determine 
the  best  proportions  for  the  ingredients,  the  following  were  selected  as 
giving  the  most  satisfactory  results  : 

For  the  camphor  light  15  alcohol,  2  turpentine,  3  spirits  camphor. 

For  the  rosin  light  13  alcohol,  2  turpentine,  1  rosin. 

A  comparative  experiment  was  made  to  determine  the  relative  values 
of  the  following  preparations  :  the  fluids  being  burned  in  lamps  preci- 
sely similar  and  supplied  each  with  an  equal  quantity  of  clean  wick. 


No. 

]. 
2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 
6. 


Cotnposition. 

13  alcohol,  2  turpentine,  1  rosin, 

15       "         2  turp.  3  spts.  camph. 

10       "         1  turp. 

Best  sperm  oil, 

A  piece  of  good  dip  candle, 

Lard, 


Time  of  Imniing. 

Loss  in 

vvci'Mit. 

2  hours. 

.85  ounces. 

u 

1.00 

u 

li 

1.14 

ii 

ii 

0.52 

u 

U 

0.64 

u 

;; 

0.64 

u 

The  consumption  of  lard  was  found  to  be  equal  to  that  of  tallow 
with  an  equal  flame,  but  much  less  when  the  wick  was  lowered.  The 
flame  of  sperm  oil  (No.  4,)  was  blighter  than  that  of  either  of  the  other 
fluids.     The  camphor  light  (No.  2,)    was.   albo  a  very  beautiful  one,  it 


ON  LIGHTS.  69 

burned  steadily  and  did  not  consume  the  wick.  The  rosin  light  (No.  Ij 
was  yellowish,  approaching  to  that  of  a  candle ;  it  gave  rather  more 
light  than  No.  2,  but  burned  as  if  the  wick  had  been  slightly  moistened 
and  left  a  crust  upon  it.  No.  3  was  paler  than  No.  2,  but  similar  in 
other  respects. 

To  ascertain  the  relative  economy  of  these  lights  it  is  necessary  to 
compare  them  all  with  some  uniform  standard  •,  for  this  purpose  the  ex- 
pense of  burning  for  100  hours  has  been  taken,  133  ounces  by  measure 
have  been  allowed  to  a  gallon,  and  the  calculations  made  at  the  follow- 
ing prices:  Turpentine  75  cents  per  gall.,  Alcohol  75  cts.,  Sperm  oil 
$1  25,  Camphor  75  cts.  per  lb.,  Rosin  4  cts.,  Candles  10  cts.,  Lard 
10  cents. 

From  the  above  data  it  has  been  found  that 

No.  1  costs  72  cents  per  gall,  and  1  gallon  burns  313  hours. 

2  "    100  "  "  2(36     " 

3  "      75  «  "  233    '' 

4  "  1.25  "  "  511    " 

Expense  of  light  for  100  hours, 


1  costs  23 

cents, 

or 

estimating 

oil  as  unity,     .94 

2    «   37.5 

((       ' 

"                  1.54 

3    «   32.2 

a 

«                 1.32 

4    "  24.4 

a 

"                  1.00 

5    "  20.0 

a 

«                   .82 

6    «   20.0 

u 

«                   .82 

From  these  experiments  it  appears,  that  the  alcoholic  preparations 
with  the  exception  of  No.  1,  are  in  fact  dearer  than  oil,  although  the 
cost  per  gallon  is  much  less,  and  that  they  consume  more  rapidly  and 
give  less  light.  They  are  very  combustible,  and  those  who  use  them 
are  liable  to  accidents  from  this  cause.  Candles  are  cheaper  than  sperm 
oil  and  lard  ;  with  equal  light  about  the  same  as  candles. 

Turpentine  alone  emits  too  much  smoke,  and  the  same  is  true  when 
mixed  with  the  fixed  oils  or  lard.  Wax  and  Indian  rubber,  not  being 
soluble  in  alcohol,  have  not  been  used. 

Lard  oil  will  probably  soon  be  brought  into  general  use  as  a  substi- 
tute for  sperm;  its  fluidity  renders  it  as  well  adapted  to  the  production 
of  light,  and  it  will,  no  doubt,  be  furnished  at  less  expense. 

H.  H. 


70 

LINES  ON  THE  MASSACRE  OF  WYOMING. 

COMPOSED  AT  WILKESBARRE,  OCT.,  1846. 
BY    R.    WEISER. 

I  stand  upon  that  pure  and  sparkling  stream, 

Whose  limpid  waters  lave  "fair  Wyoming;  " 

And  fancy  calls  to  mind  the  days  of  yore 

When  this  fair  vale  was  drenched  with  human  gore, 

When  sighs,  and  groans,  and  shrieks,  and  mortal  strife, 

In  all  their  agonizing  forms  were  rife. 

When  from  the  rugged  mountain's  side  rushed  down 

The  British  foeman,  and  the  savage  brown, 

Down  from  the  mountain's  wild  and  craggy  steep 

They  came  like  surges  of  the  raging  deep  ! 

The  murderous  war-whoop,  and  the  savage  yell 

Were  heard  and  echoed  through  this  smiling  dell ; 

On,  on  they  rushed  like  furious  hounds  of  Hell, 

The  deeds  they  did  no  mortal  tongue  can  tell ! 

Poor  Wyoming  I  thy  woful  day  is  here  ! 

Let  nature  weep,  and  shed  the  friendly  tear ! 

Thy  day  is  come,  thy  plains  are  strewed  with  dead — 

O  I  spare  the  infant,  and  the  hoary  head ! 

At  Forty-Fort  a  noble  Spartan  band 

A  thousand  craven  warriors  withstand, 

Eravely  they  fought,  and  nobly  stood  their  ground 

And  far  and  near  the  dead  were  scatter'd  'round. 

"  Fair  Wyoming  I  "  thy  richest  blood  was  shed 

Thy  soil  was  fatten'd  with  thy  noble  dead. 

But  now,  fair  vale,  thy  mournful  tears  are  dried, 

Thy  streams  no  more  with  human  gore  are  dyed  ; 

Thy  sires  are  dead,  they  rest  in  slumbers  sweet, 

No  more  the  sullen,  savage  foe  to  meet ! 

There  let  them  rest,  a  brave  and  Spartan  band, 

Worthy  to  enter  the  bright  Spirit-land. 


Baccalaureate  Address  to  the  Graduating  Class  in  Marshall  Col- 
lege.   By  the  President  of  the  Institution.     Sept.  iUh,  1846. 

We  have  read  thi-s  address  with  much  satisfaction,  and  are  gratified 
to  see  the  public  attention  directed  to  the  topics  here  discussed.  Presi- 
dent Nevin  is  favorably  known  as  a  writer,  and  as  a  gentleman  of  expe- 
rience and  success  in  teaching.  Any  views  upon  the  subject  of  educa- 
tion, expressed  by  one  whose  whole  life  has  been  identified  with  some 
seminary  of  learning,  are  entitled  to  our  regard,  and  they  must  necessarily 
exert  an  influence.  After  a  brief  congratulatory  introduction  to  the 
young  gentlemen  who  had  completed  their  academical  course,  and  who, 


PRESIDENT  NEVL\\s  ADDRESS,  71 

with  the  laurels  of  the  College,  were  about,  laculum  in  manu^  to  com- 
mence life,  the  author  proceeds  to  ofter  some  veryjudicious  remarks  on 
the  subject  of  College  education  :  first,  in  reference  to  the  tendency,  on 
the  part  of  students  in  our  literary  institutions,  to  pursue  Sl  partial  edu- 
cation— to  remain  satisfied  with  an  imperfect  or  irregular  course.  This 
is  regarded  as  forming  a  characteristic  evil  with  the  colleges  of  Pennsyl- 
vania generally.  It  rarely  works  well,  when  a  young  man  enters  an 
institution  with  a  view  of  continuing  only  two  or  three  years,  to  select 
his  studies  from  different  classes. .  The  individual  generally  accom- 
plishes comparatively  little,  and  becomes  gradually  dissatisfied  with 
his  position. 

We  have  invariably  recommended  students,  if  they  cannot  remain 
to  be  graduated,  to  fall  in  with  all  the  studies  of  the  course  in  one 
of  the  regular  classes,  and  to  pursue  them  regularly  until  they  leave, 
and  we  are  pleased  to  be  sustained  by  the  experience  of  Doctor  Nev- 
in,  who  uses  the  following  language  : 

"  On  this  subject  my  mind  is  fully  settled.  I  have  always  discouraged  the  sys- 
tem of  irregular  study,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so  in  time  to  come.  I  have  known 
many  to  regret  that  they  had  suffered  themselves  to  be  betrayed  into  such  a  course, 
but  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  met  with  one  who  felt  that  he  had  wronged  him- 
self by  pursuing  in  preference  the  regular  course." 

Secondly,  fault  is  found  with  the  disposition  manifested  by  so  many 
of  our  candidates  for  graduation  to  drop  off  from  their  class  in  the 
midst  of  their  course,  leaving  college  with  an  unfinished  education, 
and  entering  upon  professional  studies.  This  tendency,  wc  think,  i.s 
correctly  ascribed  to  a  defective  public  sentiment.  In  New  England 
no  such  system  is  practiced  ;  much  more  value  is  attached  to  a  degree. 
A  young  man  does  not  rest  satisfied  with  any  thing  short  of  it,  and  he 
is  willing  to  struggle  with  difiicullie.«,  practice  self-denial,  and  endure 
great  privations,  rather  than  forego  the  advantages  accruing  from  a  reg- 
ular course,  and  cut  off  tiie  prospects  of  graduation.  We  agree  with 
the  sentiments  expressed  by  the  Doctor  in  the  following  quotation  : 

"An  incomplete  collegiate  education  is  always  a  misfortune.  A  man  of  good 
mind  may  indeed  remedy  the  defect  in  some  measure  by  subsequent  diligence  in 
the  way  of  self-cultivation  ;  but  he  will  be  always  himself  the  first,  in  such  circum- 
stances, to  allow  the  full  force  of  the  defect,  even  in  his  own  case.  *  *  *  As 
in  a  work  of  art,  the  plan  must  be  faithfully  executed  throughout,  to  make  it  of 
true  worth,  while  any  particular  defect  necessarily  detracts  from  the  goodness  of 
the  entire  work ;  so  here,  we  say,  an  education,  to  be  accredited  as  sound  and 
solid  to  any  extent,  must  be  complete.  The  man  who  stops  in  the  middle  of  his 
course,  not  only  misses  that  part  of  it  which  should  follow,  but  may  be  said  to  infiict 
heavy  damage,  at  the  same  time,  on  all  his  previous  acquirements,  llis  education, 
as  a  whole,  is  stunted,  and  cannot  come  in  any  part  to  its  full  growth." 


T2  PRESIDENT  NEVIN'S  ADDRESS. 

The  young  man,  whose  course  is  interrupted,  feels  its  influence  in 
all  subsequent  life.  It  accompanies  him  in  his  whole  future  career, 
.showing  itself  in  every  sphere  in  which  he  may  be  placed,  and  peihaps 
the  deficiency  can  never  be  supplied,  or  the  injury  repaired.  What  a 
true  picture  is  presented  in  the  subjoined  quotation  ! 

"  We  find  it  not  uncommon  for  the  impatient  student  to  fly  the  proper  academic 
track  in  order  that  he  may  at  once  plunge  into  Blackstone,  or  some  corresponding 
text  book  in  medicine  or  divinity.  From  the  end  of  the  Sophomore  year,  possi- 
bly, he  executes  this  grand  leap,  as  it  may  be  called,  by  which  he  clears  him- 
self from  the  curriculum  of  undergraduates,  and  comes  to  be  known  afterwards 
as  an  immediate  candidate  for  one  of  the  learned  professions.  He  feels  him- 
self somewhat  magnified  by  the  change,  and  looks  back,  perhaps  with  a  feeling 
of  commiseration,  on  the  luckless  associates  he  has  left  behind  him,  still  doomed  to 
the  everlasting  lexicon  and  black-board,  the  proper  occupation  of  boijs;  while  it 
has  become  his  own  privilege  to  '  put  away  childish  things  '  for  the  more  honora- 
ble pursuits  of  a  man.  Nor  is  he  likely,  in  these  circumstances,  to  be  much  dis- 
turbed with  any  sense  of  incompetency  for  his  new  career  by  reason  of  his  unfin- 
ished studies.  He  is  at  a  loss  rather  to  understand  the  use  of  a  good  deal  of  that 
be  has  made  to  study  already.  *  *  *  ^  regular  College  graduate,  if  he  has 
turned  his  time  to  good  account,  is  likely  to  feel  that  he  needs  at  least  two  or  three 
years  of  faithful  study  subsequently  to  qualify  himself  properly  for  the  sacred  office; 
and  after  he  has  passed  this  term  he  feels  it  still  more  than  before.  But  let  the  candi- 
date spring  from  the  Grammar-School  merely,  or  from  one  of  the  lower  classes  in 
College,  over  into  the  Theological  Seminary,  and  the  case  is  very  apt  to  be  quite 
different.  Or  let  him  come  at  once  from  the  plough,  and  it  will  not  be  surprising 
to  find  him  strong  enough  in  his  own  conceit  to  master  all  necessary  preparation 
in  half  the  time  that  is  usually  required.  He  can  carry  along,  if  need  be,  the  stu- 
dies of  three  different  classes  at  once  ;  and  have  some  time  to  spare  besides,  for 
extra  occasions.    It  requires  some  education,  to  know  what  education  means." 

Those,  who  are  instrumental  in  introducing  into  any  of  the  learned 
professions  one  who  is  destitute  of  the  proper  preparatory  qualifications, 
or  has  not  enjoyed  tlie  advantan-es  of  a  liberal  education,  do  the  pro- 
fession itself  great  injustice,  and  actually  wrong  the  community.  If  a 
wholesome  state  of  opinion  prevailed  upon  this  subject,  our  young  men 
would  act  differently.  Those  who  possess  the  opportunity  of  obtaining 
a  collegiate  education  would  prize  it  most  liighly — would,  indeed,  make 
every  sacrifice  to  secure  the  desired  object. 

The  concluding  part  of  the  discourse  is  taken  up  with  a  forcible 
argument  in  favor  of  a  liberal  education,  in  reply  to  the  objections  that 
are  so  generally  urged.  The  eloquent  appeal  presented  is  calculated  to 
awaken  attention,  and  we  cannot  but  hope  that  its  efl^ect,  in  directing 
the  public  mind  to  the  subject,  will  be  most  happy.  Thanking  the 
Doctor  for  the  service  he  has  rendered  by  his  seasonable  effort,  we  cor- 
dially wish  for  the  address  a  wide  circulation. 


^pcmuinlDania  College,  (©cltnebuvg,  pa, 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 
C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D.—Pres't  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rel.,  Ethics,  Sfc. 
Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.M. — Prof .  of  Greek  Langjtage,  Itheloric  and  Onitory. 
Kev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechanical  Philos. 
Kev.  VV.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosaphij  and  Logic. 
M.  L.  SxoEVER,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department . 
Kev.  Chas.  a.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Lterature. 
Herman  Haupt,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathcmaics,  Drawng  and  French. 
David  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  ./Inalomy  and  Physology. 
John  G.  Morris,  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 
Alexander  M.  Rogers. —  Tutor. 
Abraham  Essick. — Tutor. 

Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  fifteen  years.  Dur- 
ing this  time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions of  its  iViends.  The  course  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that 
of  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- 
struction in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition 
to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics  and  Classical  Literature.  The  College  Course 
IS  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  to 

leqtiire.     They  attend  three  recitations  a  day,  Church  and  Bible  Class  on  th  Sab- 

luUh,  and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  danger  of 

iiy  great  irregularities.    They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice, 

pocial  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
ission,  $'63  62i :  for  the  summer  session,  $4B  12.^.     Washing,  .'^lO  00;  and  Wood, 
.-3  00.    Total  expense,  .^'119  73.    Boarding  can  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  25  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 
\pril  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance. 

The  semi-annual  examination  will  commence  on  Monday  Februaiy  1st,  and 
ontinue  during  the  whole  week. 

Receipts  during  December. 

D.  H.  Bittle,  Walnut  Hills,  Oliio,  |1  00  Vol.  2(1 

Kev.  Wra.  Kopp,  Loudon,  Pa.     •  1  00  :      3 

'•'     J.  N.  Burket,  Springfield,  Ohio,  1  00 

■■     F.  W.  Conrad,  Hagerstown,  Md.       1  00  :      : 

•^     M.  F.  Pfahler,  Peteisburir,  Som.  co.  1  00 

Wm.  Keller,  Hanisburg,  Pa.  '  1  00  : 

Kev.  A.  R.  Kude,  Mt.  Jackson.  Va.  1  00 

•'     S.  Sentman,  Taney  tow  n,  Md.  1  00 

Geo.  A.  Shriver,  Liltlestown,  1  00 

J.  l\T.  Clement,  Mocksvillc,  N.  C.  1  oO  :      2 

Geo.  W.  Buckev,  Jrllcrson,  Aid.  1  00  .3 

ilcv.  Prof.  M.  Jacobs,  Getlv'sburg,  100  : 

VV'm.  llulhrauli;                   :'  1  00  :       : 

Lewis  Ilaupt,  1  00  : 

M.  W.  Merrvnian,  17-5:2^3 

A.  A.  Baugh",  1  00  :     3 

Samuel  O.  Cockev.  i  00  :       : 

Conrad  Kubl,      '  1  00  :      : 

F.  Benedict,  1  7o  :     2  ^  3 

Prof.  11.  VV.' Thorp,  Elklon,  Md.  100  : 

A.  Edward  Suflevn,  New  York.  I  00  :     2 

W.  K  Campbell,  Carli.^le,  2  00  :     'J  tv  3 

Rev.  .i.  A.  Karn,  Canton.  Oiiiu.  1  '»'!  '! 


Jpennsijbania  iltebical  (Hollcgc, 

Filbert  above  Eleventh  street^  Philadelphia. 


Medical  Facuily  at  Philadelphia. 

Wm.  Darracii,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Theonj  and  Praclice  of  Medicine. 

JoH>f  WiLTBANK,  M.  D. — Prof.  of  Obsletricn  and  Diseases  of  women  and  children. 

H.  S.  Pattkhson,  M.  D. —  Prof,  of  Materia  Mcdica. 

Wm.  R.  Grant.  M.  D. — Prof  of  Jnatomy  and  Physiology. 

D.  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Principles  and  Praclice  of  Surgery. 

W.  L.  Atlee,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Medical  Chemistry. 

W .  T.  Babe,  M.  D. — Demonstrator  of  Anatomy. 


UDonaUcus  to  Cabinet. 

1.  From  W.  K.  Gilbert,  Framed  Portraits  of  the  Medical  Facuitj' of  Penn- 
sylvania College. 

2.  From  Wni.  Gillespie,  (Pittsburg.)  The  impression  of  a   Fern  upon  Sand- 
stf^ne. 

:i.     From  D.  H.  Vo*:ht,  A  cmicis  Conglomerate,  containing  organic  remains. 

Donations  to  Cibravn. 

1.  From  Prof.  M.  L.  Stoever,  Geological  Survey  of  the  State  of  Penusylvania. 

2.  "  "  Comstock's  Phonology. 


Terms  of  the  Record  and  Journal.    One  Dollar  per  annum 
in  advance. 

Address — ^^RdUor.t  of  /he  'Rrcord  and  .Tnnrvah  Grl/u.sliur.g.  Pa.'''' 


"y^iJ 


VOLUME  III.] 


[number  4. 


LITERARV   RECORD  AND  JOURNAL 

©f  tl)c  jfihnaean  ^laaociation  of  IJennsijlnatxia  (tlotUgf. 
FEBRUARY,    1847. 


COXDUCTED 


232  a  iKommittee  of  the  ^ssoci^tfou. 


CONTENTS. 

LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL, 

GERMAN  PHILOSOPHY,  -  -  -  -  - 

NATURAL  HISTORY  RECREATIONS,        -  -  - 

ON   READING,        -  ______ 

EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS,  -  _  _  _ 

SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE,  AND  RESIDENCE  IN   THE 
SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS,        -  -  -  -  - 

GEMS  FROM  THE   GERMAN  OF  RICHTER,      - 
THE  CAPTEIVEI  OF  PLAUTUS,  -  .  _  _ 

PROGRAMME  OF  EXAMINATION  IN  PENN.  COLLEGE, 
OBITUARY  NOTICES,       ---__- 


73 

76 
80 
83 
86 


-  88 
92 

-  93 
94 

95,  96 


1^   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2\  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINNiEAN  ASSOCIATION  OP  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  111.  FEBRUARY,  1847.  No.  4. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.  IV. 

VISIT  TO  A   PRINCE  WHO  WAS  NOT    "AT  HOME." 

"Captain,  F  wish  to  be  put  ashore  at  N — . " 

"  ft  shall  be  done,  Sir." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  14tli  of  last  July,  T  was  rapidly  gliding 
down  the  glorious  Rhine  on  a  small  dandy  steam  boat,  with  her  deck 
crowded  witli  passengers.  I  heard  French,  German,  Russian,  English 
and  American  spoken  by  the  motley  assemblage,  for  each  of  these  na- 
tions was  fully  represented.  You  see  in  one  day  all  sorts  of  people  in 
the  great  thoroughfares  in  Europe,  and  here  a  whole  polyglot  at  once. — ■ 
An  hour  or  two  before  I  disembarked,  I  went  up  to  a  young  man,  who 
had  a  beautiful  girl  carelessly  leaning  on  his  aim,  while  she  gazed  with 
admiration  on  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  castle  we  were  just  passing,  and 
addressed  him  thus:  "You  are  an  American,  I  presume,  Sir!"  "Yes, 
Sir,  and  so  are  you,  I  take  it.''''  I  could  almost  always  tell  an  American 
in  a  crowd, — there's  an  indescribable  something  in  his  bearing,  that  dis- 
tinguishes him,  but  I  recognized  this  one,  from  the  fact  that  one  corner 
of  his  mouth  was  slightly  stained  with  tobacco  :  that  is  pre-eminently 
an  American  characteristic.  It  was  mutually  gratifyirig  to  learn  that  we 
were  from  the  same  city. — lived  for  twenty  years  three  squares  of  each 
other, — had  often  heard  of  each  other,  but  never  met.  He  introduced 
me  to  his  young  wife,  and  who  should  she  be,  but  the  daughter  of  one 
of  my  female  schoolmates  of  by-gone  years,  for  whom  I  remember  hav- 
ing felt  a  very  tender  juvenile  passion.  Strange  coincidences  do  happen 
in  this  journey  of  life  ! 

"Get  your  trunk  ready,  Sir, — we  shall  soon  be  at  at  N — ."    "Thank 

you.  Captain!"    We  rounded  a  tongue  of  land,  and  the  beautiful  village 

of  N —  burst  on  our  view.     Towering  high  above  the  dwellings  of  its 

quiet  citizens  (for  it  is  partly  a  Moravian   town,)  were  seen   the  battle- 

10 


74  LOOSE   LEAVES 

ments  of  a  lordly  castle,  the  winter  residence  of  the  distinguished  no- 
bleman I  was  going  to  visit.  On  a  high  hill  about  three  miles  from  the 
village,  I  observed  a  magnificent  palace,  whose  snowy  whiteness  con- 
trasted beautifully  with  the  deep  green  forest  in  which  it  was  partly  em- 
bowered. It  was  a  striking  object; — it  stood  proudly  pre-eminent  and 
challenged  tlie  admiration  of  every  voyager  on  the  Rhine.  I  inquired 
whose  it  was  ?  "Oh!  that's  the  summer  residence  of  the  Prince!" — 
"Ah!  indeed,  then  I  expect  to  dine  there  this  evening ! "  My  infor- 
mant looked  inquiringly  at  my  breast  to  see  whether  I  wore  an  order 
or  a  riband. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  was  safe  ashore  and  went  to  a  hotel  that  stood 
just  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  from  the  vestibule  of  which  you  have  a 
splendid  view  far  up  and  down  tlie  celebrated  Rhine.  Ruined  castles, 
ancient  towers,  smiling  villages,  and  laughing  vineyards  greet  your  eye 
on  every  side; — but  I  had  no  time  to  sentimentalize.  I  retired  to  my 
chamber  and  spent  more  than  my  usual  time  at  my  toilette,  for  I  was 
going  to  visit  a  Prince. 

But  who,  after  all,  was  he  ?  Reader:  he  is  a  naturalist — an  every 
day  prince  I  would  stop  no  where  to  visit.  They  are  not  usually  men 
of  literary  or  scientific  distinction.  Prince  M — ,  of  N — ,  is  a  naturalist 
of  world-wide  fame ; — he  is  a  traveller  withal ; — he  has  visited  our  country 
and  published  one  of  the  most  magnificent  books  on  it  ever  issued.  It 
is  illustrated  with  the  finest  steel  engravings  that  European  skill  could 
produce.  All  the  resources  of  the  printer,  artist,  paper-maker  and  book 
binder  were  put  in  requisition  in  bringing  out  that  book.  It  is  a  chef- 
d''ceuvre  of  the  book-making  art.  The  next  time  you  go  to  Washington 
visit  the  library  of  the  State  Department  (not  the  Library  of  Congress,) 
— and  ask  for  it .''  If  you  have  any  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  you  will  be  in 
raptures.  Well,  this  nobleman  laid  aside  his  aristocratic  reserve  when 
he  was  here — he  did  not  renew  the  starch  on  his  shirt  collar  every  day, 
but  freely  mingled  with  the  people  and  especially  with  naturalists.  He 
was  much  admired  for  his  plainness  of  manner,  as  well  as  for  his  scien- 
tific acquirements.  lie  was  feted  and  caressed  by  many  of  our  people, 
and  he  promised  a  reciprocation  of  the  same  favors.  I  had  a  letter  to 
him  from  a  gentleman  of  high  distinction  in  our  country  and  anticipated 
a  rich  scientific  treat.  I  expected  to  see  his  valuable  collections  of  Nat- 
ural History  and  his  library  of  Zoological  works.  I  was  full  of  the 
highest  hope,  for  I  knew  he  was  at  the  palace.  "  What  time  does  the 
prince  dine  .'  " — said  I  to  the  landlord  of  the  inn.  *•'  At  four  o'clock. " 
I'll  just  be  in  time,  thought  I.  I  hired  a  two-horse  carriage; — who 
goes   to  visit  a   prince   in   a  one-horse   vehicle  ?     I  shaved   closer  and 


FROM  MY  .roURNAL.  75 

washed  cleaner,  and  gave  my  hat  and  coat  an  extra  brnsh,  much  to  their 
astonishment.  On  my  way  up  the  high  hill,  I  asked  my  coachman 
whether  he  was  authorized  to  drive  close  up  to  the  palace  door  ?  "  Yes!" 
said  he — "  when  I  have  the  honor  of  driving  gentlemen  of  the  nobil- 
ity."  "Well" — I  replied — "you  may  do  that  to-day,  for  you  are  dri- 
ving an  American  King.''''  The  fellow  looked  round  at  me  with  a  du- 
bious air, — "Yes" — 1  repeated — "an  American  King,  for  in  my  country 
we  are  all  Kings.  "  He  evidently  did  not  believe  me,  and  had  so  little 
respect  for  my  royalty,  that  he  actually  fell  asleep,  as  his  panting  horses 
were  tugging  up  the  hill.  A  smart  thwack  of  my  cane  across  his  braw- 
ny shoulders,  with  a  threat  that  1  would  hurl  him  down  the  precipice, 
brought  him  to  his  senses.  After  that  he  plainly  thought  that  I  acted 
very  like  a  King. 

At  length  we  arrived  at  the  palace.  I  will  not  describe  it.  It  is 
about  twice  as  long  as  Pennsylvania  College,  that  is,  about  three  hun- 
dred feet ; — it  is  surrounded  with  gardens  and  groves,  crowded  with 
statuary  and  fountains  and  all  the  embellishments  of  a  princely  resi- 
dence. 

A  lackey  stood  at  the  principal  entrance.  "  Is  the  prince  at  home  ?" 
"  Yes,  Merr,  but  he  is  just  preparing  to  go  out  in  the  cliasc."  "Deliver 
this  card  and  letter  to  him, — and  tell  his  highness  that  I  sliall  be  satis- 
iled  with  but  a  short  interview  to  day."  He  took  the^n  up  stairs.  F 
heard  conversation  ; — it  was  like  that  between  a  prince  and  a  servant, — 
one  voice  imperative  and  lordly  :  the  other  submissive  and  cringing. — 
He  remained  fifteen  minutes.  Tliought  I :  he''s  putting  things  in  order, 
— perhaps  putting  on  a  clean  shirt  and  he's  cursing  the  servant  for  be- 
ing so  slow  in  helping  him— I  shall  be  called  presently.  The  servant 
came  down, — 1  run  my  fingers  once  more  through  my  hair  and  even 
felt  whether  my  ears  were  in  right  trim.  The  fellow  made  a  low  and 
obsetiuious  bow  and  stammered  out  a  hundred  regrets, — was  infinitely 
(uncndlich)  sorry  to  tell  me  that  the  prince  had  already  gone  out ! !  ! 
My  looks  told  him  that  I  knew  he  and  his  master  lied, — he  felt  it  and 
shrunk. — I  looked  at  him  more  fiercely  and  his  eyes  fell. — !  growled  a 
few  words  in  a  language  which  1  knew  he  did  not  understand,  and  in 
another,  which  he  did  understand,  I  told  him  that  1  heard  the  prince 
speaking  up  stairs.  He  grew  pale. — I  turned  my  back  indignantly  upon 
him,  without  leaving  any  compliments  for  the  lord  of  the  manor. 

I  have  no  doubt,  at  any  otlier  time,  he  would  have  been  glad  to  see 
me.  But  ray  letter  was  from  such  a  source  as  to  claim  more  than  ordi- 
nary  attention  from   hiai,  and   rather  than  forego  the   pleasure  of  the 


76  GERMAN  PHILObOPHV. 

chase  for  that  day,  he  chose  not  to  be  "at  home.  "     I  have  not  attempt- 
ed to  visit  a  prince  since. 


GERMAN  PHILOSOPHY. 

By  C.  Dc  Remusat,  Member  of  the  Institute  of  France, 

(Continued  from  p.  25.) 

FICHTE. 

How  does  this  principle,  which  with  Kant  was  Ijnt  the  beginning  of 
the  transcendental  criticism,  how  does  it  become  the  universal  principle 
of  all  science,  of  all  ontology  ?  The  me  as  determining  and  limiting 
itself  is  active ;  as  limited  it  is  passive ;  active  as  self-determining,  pas- 
sive as  determined.  /  think  expresses  a  passive  state,  as  it  is  a  deter- 
mined state  which  excludes  every  other  mode  of  being ;  but  in  itself  it 
is  an  activity ;  the  thinker  is  active,  the  thought  passive, — grammar  it- 
self tells  us.  The  effort  of  Fichte  to  reduce  everything  to  the  activity 
of  the  ?«e,  to  reduce  the  duality  of  subject  and  object  to  the  intellectual 
duality  of  the  subject  taking  itself  as  an  object,  a  duality  which  is  only 
a  form  of  unity, — this  effort  I  say  has  been  baffled. 

We  may  indeed  admit  with  him  that  the  7ne  in  itself,  prior  to  all  de- 
terminate knowledge,  prior  to  all  external  knowledge  which  limits  it, 
and  which  manifests  the  duality  and  the  opposition  of  itself  and  that 
which  is  not  itself,  can  be  conceived  as  a  pure  ??ie,  and  in  that  sense,  as 
absolute  and  infinite,  that  is  to  say,  as  an  unlimited  power  of  knowing, 
a  potential  thought,  an  activity  or  power  of  acting  that,  embracing  in  it- 
self the  possibility  and  the  laws  of  its  own  action,  is  thus  a  free  activ- 
hy.  But  it  is  equally  true  that,  inasmuch  as  that  activity  enters  into  ac- 
tion, and,  as  it  passes  from  a  potentiality  into  an  act,  it  must  necessarily 
determine  itself,  it  must  know  something  or  other,  and  also  that  in  the 
expression  "  to  know  something ''''  tliere  is  a  subject  and  a  government,  in 
the  act  which  it  expresses  there  is  a  subject  and  an  object.  Thus  the 
me  in  action  passes  from  unity  to  duality.  It  can  know  without  any 
opposition  becoming  manifest.  Such  is  the  empirical  me  compared  with 
the  pure  me. 

But  in  the  empirical  me  also,  there  is  a  unity  of  the  me ;  for  the  me 
cannot  know  that  wiiich  is  not  or  does  not  appear  to  be  itself  but  by 
appropriating  it  to  itself,  making  itself  present  in  that  which  is  known 
just  as  in  that  which  knows;  the  me  in  passing  from  the  subject  to  the 
object,  still  goes  from  itself  to  itself,  it  establishes  and  continues  its  own 
proper  activity.  To  know  a  thing,  an  object,  any  not-me  whatever,  is 
to  perceive   what  one   perccivce,  is  to  be   conscious  of  a   sensation. — 


i'JCHTE.  77 

Thus  under  the  form  of  the  subject  which  receives  the  object  is  neces- 
sarily placed  the  me  which  knows  itself  and  recognizes  itself.  The  me 
taking  itself  as  object,  or  me=me,  is  supposed  in  all  knowledge.  Thus 
the  me,  so  to  say,  unwinds  itself;  it  is  at  the  same  time  subject  and  ob- 
ject, unity  and  dwality,  this  is  simply  expressed  in  the  common  phrase 
"  a  man  knoios  himself^''''  a  proposition  in  which  the  man  is  successively 
and  at  the  same  time  subject  and  ruler.  Every  reflective  verb  is  an  ex- 
pression borrowed  from  the  facts  of  consciousness. 

But  we  can  by  abstraction  extract  from  every  objective  judgment 
that  implied  duality  of  the  self-percipient  me.  In  every  equation  of 
A=B  we  can  read  me=me,  where  the  abstract  me  takes  itself  as  the 
object.  It  is  the  abstract  faculty  of  consciousness,  it  is  the  pure  con- 
sciousness, it  is  the  absolute  me  becoming  relative  to  itself  and  yet  not 
ceasing  to  be  absolute.  Although  in  fact  or  in  act  we  cannot  a  priori 
seize  upon  such  a  state  of  the  me,  it  is  still  evident  that  potentially  such 
a  state  belongs  to  it;  it  is  its  essence  prior  to  all  determinalion,  and  as  it 
does  not  realize  the  act  of  knowing  but  upon  that  condition,  as  that 
pure  act  is  supposed  in  every  empirical  act,  that  abstract  act  implied  in 
every  concrete  act,  we  may  consider  it  as  existing  a  jnlori,  as  a  previous 
datum  of  the  subject,  as  a  primitive  vvhich  never  becomes  actual  to  the 
pure  state,  as  it  were  an  infinite  pre-determination  of  the  infinite  activ- 
ity. Thus  in  itself,  taken  a^  an  abstraction,  conceived  a  priori,  the  sub- 
ject is  united-duality,  the  subject-object,  the  in-determinate-determinate, 
the  infinite-finite,  the  unlimited-limited;  all  these  apparent  antitheses  are 
not  as  paradoxical  as  they  appear,  as  here  again  we  have  constant  anal- 
ogies in  every  reflective  verb,  tliat  is  to  say,  in  every  expression  of  an 
action  where  the  agent  proceeds  from  himself  to  himself  The  very 
words  me  and  consciousness  signify  nothing  less.  The  name  "me" 
designates  nothing  less  than  a  being  that  knows  itself  to  be  ;  conscious- 
ness is  no  less  than  the  act  of  an  agent  that  knows  that  it  acts. 

Jn  those  terms  we  have  to  do  only  with  what  is  an  evident  truth, 
very  simple,  and  perhaps  very  trite.  This  is  the  least  at  which  he  aim- 
ed and  the  point  from  which  Fichte  started. 

From  the  fact  that  consciousness,  or  me=me,  is  included  in  every 
act  of  cognition,  he  concludes  that  this  alone  is  included  there,  and  as 
there  is  nothing  but  the  me  in  the  act,  the  active  is  everything. 

From  the  fact  that  the  act  is  the  necessary  form  of  the  active,  which 
is  the  whole  being  of  the  me,  he  concludes  that  the  act  produces  the 
whole  being,  and  as  the  me  manifests  or  attests  itself  in  its  self-cogni- 
tion, by  which  alone  it  realizes  itself,  it  is  by  this  means  alone  that  it  is 
real,  and  nothing  being  real  but  by  it,  nothing  but  it  is  real. 


7«  OEllMAN  PHJLOSOPHY. 

i  admit  Ihiit  ill   order  to  know  anything  which  is   not  me,  thn  pres- 
ence of  ilje  me  is  as   necessary  to  the  object  as  to  the  subject,     in  the 
judgment  of  the  most  ordinary  sensation,  it  is  necessary  that  the  one 
M'ho  judges  be  the  one  who  has  the  sensation.     The  sensation  is  from 
me,  of  me ;  it  supposes  tlie  me.     The  object  of  sensation  or  perception 
is  not  such  but  upon  the  condition  of  the  me  of  which  sensation  attests 
not   only  the  activity  but  likewise  the  potence.     Thus  it  may   be  said 
that  tlie  not-me  does  not  exist  to  the  me  but  upon  the  condition  of  the 
me.     1  further  agree  and  admit  that- the  rae  is  the  condition  of  the  not- 
me,  that  Ls  to  say,  if  there  were  no  me,  the  not-me  would  not  only   be 
unknown  but  as  though  it  had  no  existence   whatever.     Yet,  from  the 
fact  that  the  not-me  has  reference  to  the  me,  and  that  the  me  guaranties 
the  not-me,  it  does  not  at  all  result  that  the  not-me  is  identical  with  the 
me.     Without  doubt,  in  the  pure  consciousness,  tlie  subject  takes  itself 
as  object,  which  might  be  expressed  in   all  its  force   by  saying  that  the 
me  views  itself  as  the   not-me,  in  such  a  way  that  the  me   properly  so 
called  makes  a  circle  and  is  only  the  identity  of  subject  and  object. — 
This  apparent  and  momentary  duality  returns  to  unity  by  a  sort  of  trip- 
licity;  thus  the  subject  me,  the   object  me=me,  or   the  thesis  plus  the 
antithesis  unite   together  by  synthesis.     This  thus  at  last  reverts  to  the 
idea  (so  common  in    philosophy)  of  the  unity,  identity,  and  simplicity 
of  the  human  mind.     But  if  that  unity  is   the  means  of  every  act  of 
cognition  and  is  in  some  sort  comprised  in  it,  if  the  judgment  me=me  is 
the  condition  and  as  it  were  the  mould  of  all  judgment,  it  is  not  less  true 
that  in  every  actual,  real  judgment  of  the  empirical  me,  there  is,  by  means 
of  the  me,  a  conception  of  the  not-me,  and  something  more  than  the  ab- 
stract consciousness  of  the  pure  me.     A=B,  the  me  thinks  the  not-me, 
is  the  general  form  of  every  real  judgment.     The  system  of  Fichte  ad- 
mits that  in  such  a  judgment  the  thought  [that  which  is  thought]  is  still 
the  thinker,  the  not-me  is  still  the  me,  B  is  A.     We  also  have  admitted 
that  in  the  pure  judgment  the  me  takes  itself  as  the  not-me.     That  was 
to  compare  the  pure  judgment  to  the  empirical  judgment;  Fichte  him- 
self compared  the  empirical  witli  the  pure  judgmeiit.    But  from  the  fact 
that  we  did  not  mean  that  in  the   pure  judgment  the  me  properly  be- 
comes a  not-me,  we  did  not  concede  that  in  the  empirical  judgment  the 
iiot-me  is  properly  the  me  or  identical  with   the  me.     To  sustain   this, 
recourse  must  be  had  to  artifices  of  language  and  reasoning.     The  not- 
me,  says  one,  being  the  negative  of  the  me,  exists  only  by  the  me.    But, 
supposing  that  the  not-me  were  only  a  negation,  it  would  still  be  some- 
thing different  from  the  me,  it  would  be  that  which  the  me  is  not  at  all ; 
to  be  the  me    in  so  far  as  it  is  not.  is  not  to  he  the  one  in  so  far  as  it  is. 


FIClfTK.  79 

and,  whilst  every  empirical  judgment  A=^B  supposes  and  contains  the 
pure  judgment  me=me,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  A=B  or  me=not- 
me  is  the  equivalent  of  nie=me,  especially  as  A= — A  is  not  identi- 
cal with  A=A.     So  much  for  the  judgment  itself. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  the  one  who  judges ;  certainly  the  one  who  per- 
ceives the  object  of  sensation  is  the  one  that  receives  the  sensation,  and 
the  identity  of  the  subject  is  implied  in  every  act  of  cognition  ;  but 
there  is  in  every  act  of  cognition  besides  the  thing  known  the  peison 
that  knows,  and  although  it  necessarily  contains  the  knower,  the  known 
is  not  the  knower.  The  proof  of  this  is,  that  in  order  to  find  an  act  of 
cognition  where  one  is  the  other,  you  are  obliged  to  produce  by  abstrac- 
tion the  pure  judgment  me=me,  but  the  pure  judgment  is  never  rca'i, 
it  is  a  logical  supposition  which  you  can  only  realize  by  that  peculiar 
faculty  which  Fichte  calls  the  transcendental  sense.  It  is  a  j^osleriori 
that  you  must  re-produce  that  a  priori.  You  ascend  from  the  concrete 
to  this  abstraction  ;  but  the  abstract,  which  is  the  condition  of  the  con- 
crete, is  by  no  means  the  concrete  ;  and,  in  every  actual,  real,  empirical, 
concrete  judgment,  ii  is  admitted  that  the  object  supposes  the  subject, 
but  is  not  the  subject,  hi  A=B,  B  contains  the  subject  plus  an  object, 
me  plus  a  not-me,  the  sentient  plus  the  sensation  [senti.)  Fichte  with 
Kant  tells  us  that  what  is  perceived  is  nothing  more  than  the  percipient, 
and  that  a  representation  is  only  a  state,  a  phenomenon,  or  a  result  of 
the  representative.  Ontologically,  there  is  no  doubt  ground  for  this ; 
substantially  there  need  not  be  in  the  me  anything  but  the  me,  the  not- 
me  being  there  only  ideally.  Yet  there  must  be  some  sort  of  dif- 
ference between  the  representative  and  the  thing  represented,  for  Fichte 
himself  distinguishes  them  by  an  essential  designation,  calling  the  one 
me,  the  other  not-me. 

But,  says  he,  the  not-me  is  not  a  real  negative,  it  is  the  me  limited. 
But  why  is  the  me  limited  .''  It  limits  itself,  is  his  answer,  and  as  the 
act  of  limitation  is  its  own  act,  the  limited  me  is  still  the  me,  and  it  is 
the  me  that  produces  the  not-me.  It  must  first  be  proved  that  it  limits 
itself  freely.  I  know  that  it  is  said  that  every  act  is  free,  but  this  is  an 
abuse  of  the  word  free, — and  it  is  only  meant  by  that  word  that  it  is  in  it- 
self that  the  active  finds  the  principle  of  the  act;  such  liberty  is  at  the 
bottom  only  an  internal  necessity.  To  say  that  the  me  posits  and  lim- 
its itself  by  a  free  act  of  its  own  activity,  is  to  say  that  it  is  made  to 
posit  and  limit  itself,  that  it  is  its  proper  nature  so  to  do,  and  that  it 
would  not  be  intelligent  if  it  obeyed  without  consciousness  an  external 
necessity.  The  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  its  acts  would  be 
about  the  whole  of  the  liberty  of  the  me  of  Fichte  and  of  Schelling. 


80  NATURAL  HISTORY  RRCREATIOXS. 

But  yet,  is  it  in  itself  that  the  me  finds  the  necessity  of  its  limita- 
tion ?  We  have  been  told  that  in  itself  it  is  unlimited,  infinite  ;  but  to 
know  itself  it  must  determine  itself,  the  infinite  must  become  finite,  and 
that  in  that  finite  it  recognises  itself  as  infinite.  But  that  is  the  act  of 
tlie  pure  me,  of  the  supposable  me,  which  however  only  exists  poten- 
tially, and  is  actually  found  only  in  abstraction.  The  real  act  is  not  the 
pure  consciousness  of  the  internal  necessity  of  a  limitation.  Fichte  re- 
cognises this  by  implication  when  he  says,  that  the  pure  me  would  be 
an  unlimited  activity  represented  by  an  infinite  line  if  it  did  not  become 
to  itself  a  check,  an  obstacle  wliich  arrests  it,  and  which  it  learns  by 
its  self-limitation.  Is  not  this  singular  metaphor  an  avowal  that  the 
limitation  is  not  absolutely  free,  even  in  the  sense  of  being  the  effect  of 
an  internal  necessity,  and  does  it  not  by  implication  admit  that  the  not- 
me  is  a  limit,  that  the  negative  of  the  me  is  an  external  cause  of  the 
limitation  of  the  me  by  itself!  Fichte,  then,  does  not  constantly  and 
rigorously  pcrisist  in  positing  nothing  but  the  me  ;  and  .so  it  is  not  pro- 
ved that  the  me  is  every  thing,  or  that  the  not-me  is  a  gratuitous  sup- 
position, an  empirical  accident,  an  effect  without  a  cause,  an  inexplicable 
fact  {donnl'^)  as  some  maintain  ;  and  at  all  events,  we  have  not  been  fur- 
nished with  an  explanation  of  the  reality,  admitted  at  least  as  an  apparent 
fact,  as  an  experimental  necessity  by  Kant,  and  in  this  connection  Kant 
has  not  been  supplied  with  the  principle  which  he  lacked. 


NATURAL  HISTORY  RECREATIONS.       NO.   I. 

EY  AX  A.MATEVR. 

Infusoria. — The  name  "  infuHories  '.'  properlv  designates  those  min- 
ute animals  which  are  developed  in  artificial  infusions  of  vegetable  or 
animal  matter;  but  the  term  has  also  been  applied  to  all  those  found 
in  fresh  or  salt  water,  which  on  account  of  their  simple  organization, 
have  been  placed  in  the  lowest  grade  of  the  animal  kingdom,  and  which, 
on  account  of  their  minuteness,  for  the  most  part,  require  the  aid  of  the 
microscope  to  detect  them.  It  is  only  about  150  years  since  the  exis- 
tence of  such  animals  became  known,  and  it  was  Leuwenhoek,  the  cel- 
ebrated Dutch  Naturalist,  who  first  called  public  attention  to  them.  The 
discovery  of  this  new  animal  world  excited  an  extraordinary  interest 
and  numerous  naturalists  investigated  their  nature.  Among  others  Otto 
Mtiller,  of  Denmark,  particularly  distinguislied  himself  in  this  new  field 
and  attempted  a  classification  of  them,  but  it  was  left  for  Ehrenberg  of 
Berlin,  who  is  still  living,  to  pursue  this  subject  to  the  greatest  extent, 
and  to  gain  a  world-wide  celebrity  for  his  astonishing   researches.     He 


NATURAL  HISTORY   RECREATIONS.  81 

has  demonstrated  that  those  minuticB  of  creation,  notwithstanding  their 
minuteness,  are  not  so  simple  in  their  organization,  as  has  been  gener- 
ally supposed. 

If  animal  or  vegetable  substances  are  allowed  to  decompose  in  wa- 
ter, in  a  few  days,  according  to  the  temperature,  there  will  be  developed 
uncounted  numbers  of  these  infusories.  If  you  put  a  drop  of  the  wa- 
ter under  a  good  microscope,  you  will  observe  a  number  of  small  points 
moving  among  each  other  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  whilst  larger  ones 
are  seen  leisurely  swimming  about.  Similar  bodies  are  found  in  the 
green  slime  which  is  attached  to  plants,  stakes,  stones  and  other  ob- 
jects in  stagnant  water.  At  first,  these  little  animals  were  considered 
as  inorganic  globules  or  minute  aquatic  plants,  which  floated  in  the  wa- 
ter, and  their  motion  was  occasioned  by  the  evaporation  of  the  water. — 
But  closer  research  and  numerous  experiments  have  proved  that  these 
microscopic  bodies  are  really  animals.  Their  motions  are  too  various 
and  irregular  to  be  explained  by  mere  attraction  or  repulsion  and  other 
physical  causes.  Besides,  in  many  of  them  there  has  been  observed  a 
complete  organization,  a  mouth,  intestinal  caial,  a  shell  enclosing  the 
body,  and  other  physical  members.  As  respects  their  motion,  they  swiftly 
shoot  forward,  suddenly  stop,  turn  round,  move  out  of  the  way  of  others, 
describe  a  circle,  leap,  lengthen  themselves  out,  draw  themselves  in,  be- 
come narrow  and  then  wide,  and  change  their  form  in  many  curious 
ways.  The  motion  of  some  of  the  Infusories  is  very  slow,  often 
scarcely  observable  to  the  eye,  and  these  are  frequently  united  together 
in  series.  The  existence  of  a  mouth  and  intestinal  canal  was  discov- 
ered by  Ehrenberg  by  coloring  the  water  with  indigo  or  carmine,  which 
was  afterwards  visible  in  the  transparent  body  of  the  animals,  showing 
that  they  had  swallowed  it.  By  means  of  the  hairs  or  ciliae  by  which 
many  of  them  are  surrounded,  the  larger  species  often  create  an  eddy 
or  rotary  motion  in  the  water,  by  which  other  smaller  species  are  drawn 
into  their  mouths. 

Their  bodies  consist  entirely  of  uniform  slimy  substance,  and  are  of 
various  forms.  Some  are  oval,  others  globular,  others  flat,  others  cylin- 
drical. The  globular  species  turn  on  their  own  axis,  and  do  not  un- 
dergo much  variation  in  form.  The  flat  ones  move  in  .straight  lines,  but 
often  change  their  direction  ;  often  they  stretch  themselves  out  and  then 
roll  themselves  up  like  a  ball.  The  cylindrical  often  assume  the  shape 
of  an  S  or  an  8,  and  then  again  suddenly  stretch  themselves  out.  For 
the  most  part,  the  body  is  naked  :  but  many  are  covered  with  a  tender 
shell  or  case :  many  have  a  tail  consisting  of  sections  that  can  be  shov- 
ed into  each  other  like  the  pieces  of  a  telescope;  others  liave  a  so-cal- 
11 


82  NATURAL  HISTORY  RECREATIONS. 

led  rotatory  organ,  which  is  surrounded  by  hairs  and  situated  near  the 
mouth,  and  this  is  kept  in  constant  motion.  Some  have  stiff  bristles, 
hooks,  claws,  spurs,  beards,  and  snouts.  Other  organs  of  sense  have 
not  been  discovered,  for  the  four  or  five  black  or  red  spots  over  the 
mouth,  which  have  been  regarded  as  eyes,  have  other  offices  to  perform. 

The  minutest  infusories  are  sustained  only  by  absorption  through 
the  surface  of  the  body.  But  the  more  perfect  species  take  their  nour- 
ishment through  the  mouth,  and  this  consists  of  still  smaller  infusory 
animals.  The  rotary  (or  wheel)  animals  by  tlie  motion  of  their  singular 
organ  produce  an  eddy  in  the  water,  and  thus  their  food  is  forced  into 
their  mouths.  Others  have  their  raoulhs  surrounded  by  a  cutaneous 
sheath  which  can  be  folded  in  all  directions.  In  some,  this  sheath  is 
reniform,  and  the  edge  is  covered  with  hairs.  When  the  animal  extends 
the  sheath,  and  moves  the  hairs,  all  smaller  species  in  the  vicinity  are 
entrapped,  as  it  were,  and  sucked  into  the  mouth. 

The  origin  of  infusories  has  been  a  fruitful  theme  of  speculation. — 
Many  believe  that  they  proceed  from  eggs  as  other  animals,  or  from  di- 
visions or  sprouts  from  their  parents,  and  some  maintain  that  they  are 
the  product  of  spontaneous  or  equivocal  generations.  This  latter  sup- 
position cuts  the  knot  of  the  difficulty,  but  it  is  not  satisfactory.  Many 
curious  facts  have  been  stated  to  prove  this  theory,  but  it  is  not  now 
generally  entertained  by  naturalists. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  same  water  or  infusion  will  by  degrees  con- 
tinue to  develop  different  species  of  these  animals,  and  that  they  suc- 
cessively become  more  perfect  in  their  organization.  At  first,  the  water 
is  literally  alive  with  tlie  most  infinitesimal  monads, — after  a  few  days 
other  species  will  take  their  place, — afterwards  others  of  a  different  for- 
mation and  more  distinct  members. 

Although  infusories  are  originally  generated  like  other  animals,  yet 
after  their  full  development  they  multiply  by  voluntary  separation,  and 
by  so  called  eggs,  or  germinal  grains.  You  will  frequently  observe  on 
both  sides  of  the  body  of  one  of  them,  a  deep  incision,  which  gradu- 
ally becomes  deeper,  and  finally  the  animal  is  separated  in  two.  Each 
grows  as  large  as  the  first  individual,  and  then  they  divide  in  the  same 
manner.  The  so-called  eggs  of  infusories  are  not  really  such,  but  are 
only  germs,  and  they  are  giadually  developed  to  a  perfect  animal,  with- 
out breaking  the  shell  as  is  the  case  with  animals  hatched  out  of  real 
eggs.  Their  powers  of  reproduction  are  prodigious,  and  according  to 
Ehrenberg,  in  from  eight  to  fourteen  days  they  multiply  to  millions,  es- 
pecially when  the  circumstances  are  favorable.  Even  during  this  win- 
ter, I  have  observed  the  same  phenomenon,  and  a  summer  or  two  ago, 


ON  READING.  83 

in  less  than  two  days,  some  stagnant  water  in  a  bottle  in  my  study, 
which  when  first  subjected  to  the  microscope  was  not  remarkably  crowd- 
ed with  infusories,  became  a  moving  mass  of  them. 

These  animals  are  short  lived.  Ehrenberg  could  not  keep  them 
alive  longer  than  three  weeks,  but  probably  they  live  longer  in  open  wa- 
ter. But  it  is  wonderful  how  those  which  have  been  apparently  dead 
and  even  dried  up,  can  be  revived  by  pouring  a  little  water  on  them. — 
It  is  said  that  some  have  been  thus  resuscitated,  after  they  had  been  dri- 
ed up  for  years.  Even  some  which  were  frozen  with  the  water  in  which 
they  were  found,  came  to  life  when  the  ice  was  melted. 

No  arithmetic  can  reach  down  to  the  minuteness  or  number  of  these 
animals.  Some  of  them,  it  is  true,  can  be  seen  with  a  good  naked  eye. 
There  are  some  as  large  as  the  ^'^  of  a  line,  and  a  line  is  ^^^  of  an  inch, 
but  the  smallest  that  I  have  seen,  are  only  the  -^J^^  of  a  line  in  size, 
and  of  course,  require  a  good  microscope  to  be  observed.  It  has  been 
calculated  that  a  drop  of  water  may  contain  five  thousand  millions  of 
these  smallest  infusories. 


ON  READING.  NO.  III. 
"The  habitual  indulgence  in  such  reading  (novel  reading)  is  a  silent,  mining 
mischief.  Though  there  is  no  act,  and  no  moment,  in  which  any  open  assault  on 
the  mind  is  made  ;  yet  the  constant  habit  performs  the  work  of  a  mental  atrophy  : 
it  produces  all  the  symptoms  of  decay,  and  the  danger  is  not  less,  tor  being  more 
gradual,  and  therefore  less  suspected.  "  H.  More. 

We  believe  that  one  of  the  greatest  evils  that  now  trouble  our  land 
is  the  abundance  of  works  of  fiction,  and  the  wide-spread  indulgence 
in  their  perusal.  They  constitute  a  fans  malorum,  from  which  bitter 
streams  flow  forth,  scathing  and  desolating  many  a  spot  which  else  had 
been  green  and  flourishing.  To  these  books  is  to  be  traced  much  of 
the  corruption  of  morals  and  the  prevalence  of  crime.  They  have  giv- 
en activity  to  slumbering  passions ;  they  have  suggested  dark  deeds  and 
foul  thoughts  ;  they  have  developed  in  fearful  strength  and  vividness, 
the  depravity  of  hearts  which  else  had  been  schooled  to  purity  and  gen- 
tleness ;  they  have  banished  modesty  from  the  soul  of  youth,  and  have 
taught  the  lip  to  utter  profanity  and  obscenity,  and  led  to  deeds  of  licen- 
tiousness and  baseness,  which  defile  human  nature  and  make  a  virtuous 
man  blush  to  own  himself  a  man. 

It  were  absurd,  indeed,  to  pass  a  sweeping  condemnation  on  all  works 
of  fiction.  Even  that  particular  class  of  fictitious  writings,  called  JVov- 
els,  may  claim  some  exceptions.     We  believe  that  Fiction  may  be  read. 


84  OiN    READING. 

We  believe  that  there  are  a  few  novels  which  deserve  to  be  read.  There 
are  some  that  stand  eminent  as  works  of  genius :  conveying  historical 
truth  in  a  pleasing  fo<m,  without  violating  morality  or  shocking  mod- 
esty :  giving  vice  its  due  punishment,  and  exposing  its  hideousness. — 
The  perusal  of  these  at  proper  times,  and  under  proper  circumstances, 
•may  serve  a  good  purpose,  by  cultivating  some  parts  of  the  mind  that 
more  rigid  studies  do  not  call  into  exercise,  and  giving  a  more  genial 
tone  to  the  whole  literary  character.  They  may  be  profitably  contem- 
plated as  works  of  art,  as  productions  of  genius,  whose  right  study  will 
contribute  to  the  cultuie  of  the  imagination,  a  faculty  of  the  soul  as 
much  wordiy  of  education  as  the  intellect,  or  pure  reason. 

For  the  great  mass  of  works,  however,  that  bear  the  names  of  novel 
or  romance — and  the  remark  holds  good  especially  of  those  of  most 
modern  date — the  furnace  would  be  the  fittest  receptacle.  Many  of 
them  are  mere  trash  in  a  literary  view,  and  exceedingly  immoral,  and 
profane.  Those  which  bear  the  marks  of  genius  are  sad  monuments 
of  wasted  talent.  They  are  decoys  to  ruin.  They  have  doubtless  led 
many  poor  souls  to  the  gates  of  hell. 

But  we  are  now  chiefiy  concerned  with  the  effects,  which  an  indul- 
gence in  novel  reading  produces  on  the  intellect.  These  are  most  un- 
liappy.  Such  indulgence  begets  a  diseased  state  of  mind,  which  impairs 
the  mind's  energy  and  unfits  it  for  vigorous  exertion.  It  gives  a  forced 
hothouse  growth  to  the  fancy  and  imagination,  whUe  the  reasoning  pow- 
ers are  left  to  wither,  or  live  a  stinted  life.  It  forms  and  strengthens 
that  evil  craving  after  excitement,  to  which  allusion  was  made  in  our 
first  article,  and  which  renders  every  thing  irksome  that  does  not  min- 
ister to  its  wants.  It  forms  the  habit  of  careless  reading.  The  novel 
reader  reads  for  amusement.  He  seldom  stops  to  criticise  the  style,  to 
weigh  the  sentiment,  or  examine  the  argument.  He  looks  only  for  ac- 
tion. He  watches  the  countenance,  he  follows  the  steps  of  the  hero; 
and  often,  in  this  highly  wrought  excitement,  his  eye  skims  along  page 
after  page,  without  a  single  thought,  or  rather  without  really ///r/jA'n?^-. — 
And  if  in  the  midst  of  his  anxious  pursuit  after  the  development  and 
catastrophe,  some  pages  of  reflection,  or  information,  or  anything  of  a 
more  serious  nature,  and  worth  perhaps  all  the  rest  of  the  volume,  in- 
tervene— he  does  not  deign  to  look  at  these,  or  passes  them  carelessly 
by,  and  looks  eagerly  for  his  hero  to  come  again  before  his  view,  and 
strut  his  hour  upon  the  stage. 

Thus  is  there  produced  not  only  a  distaste  for  more  solid  and  use- 
ful works,  which  will  almost  prevent  (heir  j)erusal ;  but  also  a  habit  of 
reading  superficially — of  rcaduig  without  thought.,  which  is  most  mischiev- 


ON  READING.  85 

ous  in  its  consequences.  To  read  without  thought  is  to  read  uselessly  *, 
it  is  to  waste  mind  and  time.  Nay  it  is  more  than  this.  It  prevents 
proper  mental  action,  it  deprives  the  mind  of  the  power  of  thinking, 
strips  it  of  every  thing  like  originality,  destroys  invention. 

All  these  evils  have  we  seen,  some  have  we  felt,  as  the  result  of  a 
too  great  indulgence  in  novel  reading.  We  have  condensed  these  thoughts 
into  as  brief  a  space  as  possible,  throwing  out  mere  hints  for  more  ex- 
tended trains  of  reflection,  in  order  that  we  might  have  room,  without 
extending  this  article  beyond  proper  limits,  to  quote  a  few  paragraphs, 
expressing  our  views  more  forcibly  than  our  pen  is  able  to  express  them. 
We  commend  the  remarks  to  our  readers.  They  are  from  the  pen  of 
a  friend  who  had  read  much,  but  had  not  forgotten  to  think ;  and  they 
originally  appeared  in  a  College  Magazine. 

"  Novels  now,  considered  in  all  their  results,  are  the  most  vigorous 
antidote  to  a  system  of  thorough,  diffusive  education.  Not  only  does 
their  perusal  impoverish  in  a  higli  degree  the  intelligent  and  reflecting 
mind,  which  either  reads  indiscriminately,  or  with  inconsiderate  regard 
for  their  character,  but  what  is  far  more  baneful,  it  snatches  upon  the 
imguarded  mind,  gifted  with  only  a  faint  outline  of  literature,  and  un- 
taught to  reason  calmly,  and  to  sludy  deliberately — captivates  the  im- 
agination, and  bears  it  away  in  triumph,  to  riot  in  brilliant,  corrupting 
festivities — vain  mockeries  of  truth !  It  is  in  this  point  of  view  we 
must  regard  the  works  under  consideration  as  most  dangerous — their 
tendency  to  mislead  those  without  tlie  discretion  to  withstand  their  en- 
ticing forms,  and  to  read  with  right  aims ;  to  such  they  prove  a  curse — 
throwing  the  mind,  while  yet  barren  of  fundamental  truths  and  general 
knowledge,  into  a  state  unfit  for  toil,  unfit  for  active  exertion,  enerva- 
ting the  faculties,  and  creating  a  morbid  and  insatiate  appetite  for  tinsel- 
ed trash,  incompatible  with  a  regard  for  fact  or  reason.  Their  frequent 
study  familiarizes  with  vice,  renders  callous  to  debasing  crimes,  and 
above  all  creates  a  false  delicacy,  which  is  the  same  forerunner  and 
concomitant  of  lurking  licentiousness !  It  depraves  taste  by  destroying 
our  natural  abhorrence  for  vulgar  epithets  and  allusions. 

"■  While  the  reflecting  mind,  steeled  by  a  contemplation  of  great 
moral  or  political  truths — armed  by  a  large  and  varied  acquaintance 
with  literature — above  all  alive  to  its  worth — while  such  a  one  may 
peruse  harmlessly  the  modern  works  of  fiction,  yet  it  is  a  culpable  waste 
of  time ;  and  even  the  perusal  of  those  of  acknowledged  merit  should 
ever  bear  but  a  small  proportion  to  otlicr  intellectual  pursuits,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  vigor  and  precision  of  thought.  Again — the  mind  whose  lit- 
erary liorizon  is  comparatively  liiniled,  especially  the  youthful  uiiud, 


86  EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS. 

should  abstain  from  fictitious  writings  as  being  an  antidote — fearful  an- 
tidote to  the  full  development  of  his  mental  faculties ;  in  their  study- 
he  hazards  the  purity  of  his  moral  nature,  and  insensibly  nourishes 
within  himself  a  toleration  of  vice  and  ignominy,  which  in  the  end  will 
'  bite  like  a  serpent  and  sting  like  an  adder  ! '  And  the  purest,  the  best 
of  fiction,  with  the  most  cautious  of  readers,  we  should  even  be  disposed 
to  view  only  as  pleasant  by-paths,  whereat  the  traveller  in  the  world  of 
letters  may  turn  aside  to  regale  himself  with  healthful  shades,  but  by  no 
means  essential  to  a  proud  and  noble  stand  in  the  drama  of  life. " 


epistles  to  students.     no,  v. 
Young  Gentlemen  : 

There  remains  to  be  considered  the  solemn  promise  that  you  make 
when  introduced  into  the  college,  that  you  will  abstain  from  all  inde- 
cent, disorderly  behaviour.  If  left  to  your  option  in  regard  to  this,  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  you  would  be  inclined  to  avoid  what  is  in- 
decent, and  to  regulate  your  conduct  by  the  rules  of  order.  It  is  ex- 
pected of  you,  that  you  have  been  so  trained  at  home  and  have  come  to 
us  so  charged  with  the  advice  of  those  who  take  the  deepest  interest  in 
your  w'elfare,  as  to  be  fully  prepared  to  conform  to  the  laws  of  de- 
cency and  order.  This  is  required  of  you,  is  laid  down  as  the  course 
wliich  you  must  pursue,  if  you  would  stand  well  in  the  estimation  of 
the  authorities  of  the  institution  and  retain  your  membership.  But  what, 
you  may  ask,  is  more  particularly  designed  by  this  portion  of  the  vow. 
It  may  be  thought  that  the  requisition  is  not  very  definite  and  that  it 
may  cover  a  great  deal  of  ground. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  it  may  be  charged  with  want  of  definite- 
ness,  if  we  are  to  suppose  that  some  single  act  is  referred  to.  It  must, 
too,  be  conceded  that  it  is  very  comprehensive,  and  yet  the  presumption 
is  entirely  in  favor  of  the  opinion  that  there  can  be  no  dilFiculty  in  de- 
termining in  any  specific  case,  whether  it  pertains  to  the  category  of  in- 
decency, or  disorder,  or  not.  Amongst  the  numerous  illustrations  which 
might  be  given,  your  attention  is  .called  to  the  following.  Under  the 
head  of  indecency,  the  first  tiling  to  be  mentioned  is  unbecoming  dress. 
The  reference  is  not  to  extravagance  in  dress,  expense  beyond  oui  means, 
— this  we  consider  dishonest  pride,  and  though  most  severely  to  be  con- 
demned, not  presented  for  consideration  at  this  time — but  dress  that  is 
outre^  singular,  calculated  to  arrest  attention  and  elicit  censure.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  negligence  in  dress  and  in  our  personal  appeaiance,  either 
in  the  presence  of  the  instructors  or  the  public,  and  want  of  cleanliness. 


EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS.  87 

may  be  adduced  as  in  violation  of  this  regulation.  In  a  word,  whatever 
in  our  outward  garb,  may  be  calculated  to  excite  impure  ideas  in  the 
minds  of  others,  and  indicate  the  want  of  purity  in  our  own,  is  prohib- 
ited emphatically. 

There  may  be  too  in  our  language,  manifestations  of  indecency,  and 
here  we  introduce  as  forbidden  every  thing  licentious,  obscene,  filthy 
and  vulgar. 

In  conduct,  the  law  of  decency  requires  compliance  with  the  usa- 
ges of  good  society,  and  abstinence  from  such  things  as  are  not  tolera- 
ted in  the  best  circles.  Behavior  such  as  characterizes  us  when  we 
are  in  the  presence  of  our  mothers  and  sisters  and  in  the  company  of 
respectable  ladies — such  as  befits  the  gentleman,  the  educated  man,  and 
the  citizen  of  a  Christian  country,  may  be  adduced  as  suited  to  express 
our  compliance  with  the  promise  to  adhere  to  the  principles  of  decency. 
If,  however,  we  are  guilty  of  scribbling  upon  walls,  defacing  and  inju- 
ring property  by  cutting  and  other  methods  of  injuring;  if  we  are  guilty 
of  passing  through  the  streets  pufiing  segars  and  lounging  around  con- 
feclionaries ;  if  we  are  guilty  of  trespassing  upon  the  hospitality  of 
those  whom  we  visit,  by  remaining  till  an  unseasonable  hour  of  the 
night — we  can  with  no  reason  expect  that  we  will  be  honored  for  our 
deep  devotion  to  the  decencies  of  life,  and  we  shall  hardly  escape  epi- 
thets which,  in  their  application  to  us,  we  would  receive  with  much  in- 
dignation. 

It  is  not  only  what  is  indecent  but  likewise  what  is  disorderly  that 
we  must  avoid,  or  failing  to  do  it,  we  are  untrue  to  our  pledge,  untrue  to 
conscience,  untrue  to  the  College.  Disorderly  conduct  is  any  conduct 
which  is  in  violation  of  the  order  of  the  Institution.  Noisy,  boisterous 
behaviour,  yelling, — either  in  the  College  edifice,  or  in  the  town,  in  the 
day,  or  at  night — maybe  characterized  as  unequivocally  disorderly.  Re- 
moving property  out  of  its  place,  or  in  any  way  interfering  with  the  po- 
sition in  which  it  is  located,  stands  condemned  under  the  same  law.  It  is 
disorderly,  to  be  inattentive  during  recitations  or  lectures  in  the  class 
room,  to  whisper,  talk,  or  pry  into  books  ;  to  sneak  into  a  corner  and 
try  to  deceive  by  using  some  other  guide  in  the  recitation  than  your  own 
knowledge  of  the  subject. 

It  is  disorderly,  to  be  absent  from  a  college  duty,  without  a  suffi- 
cient reason,  to  allege  that  sleep  overtook  you,  or  that  you  were  unwell 
when  your  indisposition  was  exceedingly  slight  or  non-existent,  when 
it  had  not  sufficiently  culminated  to  render  remedial  agency  necessary 
and  permitted  you  to  empanncl  your  usual  quantity  of  food.  It  is  dis- 
orderly, to  remain  up  beyond  the  time  allotted,  and  to  fail   to  appear  in 


88  SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE 

the  morning  at  worship  under  the  plea  that  you  did  not  get  awake,  when 
the  real  state  of  the  case  is,  that  your  indolence  mastered  your  sense 
of  duty.  It  is  disorderly,  to  be  tardy  in  your  appearance  at  college  ex- 
ercises, and  then  to  pretend  that  you  were  deceived  in  the  time;  and  fi- 
nally it  is  so — when  the  indulgence  of  the  government  of  the  institution 
is  exhausted,  and  incorrigible  oflenders  are  subjected  to  discipline — for 
you  to  throw  your  sympathy  entirely  upon  them,  and  to  seek  to  dimin- 
ish the  majesty  of  law,  by  disrespect  to  its  penalty  when  it  is  inflicted. 
Such  is  a  hasty  expose  of  the  matriculation  oath.  You  have  volunta- 
rily, with  no  constraint  from  the  College,  assumed  it;  in  the  fulfillment, 
great  reliance  is  placed  upon  your  honor;  in  no  case  are  you  treated 
with  suspicion,  till  you  have  shown  that  you  are  not  deserving  of  con- 
fidence; if  at  any  time  you  should  regard  your  situation  as  oppressive, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  withdraw.  In  view  of  all  this,  is  it  not  most  rea- 
sonable that  you  should  be  expected  conscientiously  and  fully  to  show 
in  your  conduct  that  you  have  not  merely  passed  through  a  formality 
of  no  obligatory  power  in  the  assumption  of  this  vow,  but  that  it  is  re- 
ally lodged  in  your  heart  and  is  controlling  your  moral  sensibilities  with 
energetic  force  I 

Having  reached  this  point,  I  propose  to  launch  out  into  various  to- 
pics such  as  I  consider  calculated  to  subserve  your  best  interests,  to 
furnish  you  some  guide  in  the  interesting  career  upon  which  you  have 
entered,  and  to  aid  you  in  the  formation  of  such  a  character  as  will 
make  you  useful,  beloved  ornaments  to  your  kind — happy  in  your  life, 
not   forsaken   in   your  death,  remembered  on   earth,  immortalized   in 

heaven. 

Your's,  faithfully. 


SKETCHES    OF    A    VOYAGE,    AND    RESIDENCE    IN   THE    SOUTH 
SEA   ISLANDS.       NO.     I. 

On  the  12ih  day  of  December,  1834,  I  set  sail,  in  the  good  Brig 
"  May  Daae "  of  Boston,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River, 
bound  for  the  Sandvvich  Islands.  We  crossed  the  dangerous  bar  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  in  safety,  though  for  the  space  of  about  twenty  min- 
utes, the  sea  roared  and  boiled  around  our  frail  bark  like  an  enormous 
cauldron ;  and  the  billows,  upheaved  from  the  very  bottom,  at  each  in- 
stant threatened  to  engulph  us  in  their  briny  depths. 

At  this  spot  several  vessels  belonging  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company 
have  been  lost,  and  it  was  here  that  our  noble  Peacock,  when  attached 
to  the  United  States  Exploring  Expedition  foundered,  carrying  with  her 


TO  THK   SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS.  89 

the  products  of  many  months  of  labor  and  scientific  toil  performed  by 
our  energetic  and  indefatigable  countrymen. 

We  were,  as  may  be  supposed,  heartily  glad  to  leave  this  frightful 
place,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  booming  along  over  a  beautiful  placid 
sea,  at  the  rate  of  eight  knots  an  hour. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that,  to  me,  interested  as  I  always 
have  been,  in  the  beautiful  and  marvellous  works  of  Providence,  every 
thing  in  the  shape  of  animated  nature  inhabiting  the  sea,  possessed  ex- 
traordinary attractions.  We  had  not  been  long  afloat  before  my  atten- 
tion was  turned  to  scores  of  a  beautiful  marine  animal  lying  supinely 
on  the  unruiHed  surface.  These  are  a  sort  of  soft  niolusk,  called  Me- 
dusa. They  have  a  cartilaginous  body,  and  vary  from  the  size  of  a 
man's  hand  to  that  of  the  head  of  a  barrel.  The  upper  part,  or  that 
seen  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  is  slightly  convex,  and  two  whitish 
spots  appear  upon  it  resembling  eyes ;  the  lower  portion,  or  that  sunk 
below  the  surface,  has  usually  a  tube  projecting  from  it,  expanded  or 
placed  out  like  the  end  of  a  clarinet.  Within  the  body,  near  the  pos- 
terior part,  is  a  large  ovate  ball,  of  a  bright  oiange  color,  resembling  the 
yolk  of  an  egg.  I  secured,  by  means  of  a  bucket  having  a  line  attached 
to  it,  a  number  of  these  curious  animals,  some  of  which  I  put  in  spirits 
for  the  purpose  of  preserving  them,  but  found  it  to  be  impossible.  A 
few  hours  immersion  sufficed  either  entirely  to  dissolve  them,  or  to  de- 
prive them  of  their  elegant  form  and  splendid  colors;  and  I  therefore 
abandoned  the  idea  of  collecting  them.  The  only  mode  by  which  these 
magnificent  creatures  can  be  represented  to  those  wlio  stay  at  home,  is 
by  making  accurate  colored  drawings  of  the  animal  immediately  after  it 
is  taken  from  the  water.  Whether  this  has  been  done  by  the  gentlemen 
attached  to  our  late  exploring  expedition  I  am  not  aware,  but  you  will 
find  many  species  of  them  exquisitely  figured  and  colored  in  the  splen- 
did work  recently  published  by  the  Government  of  France,  entitled 
"  Voyage  de  I'Astrolabe.  "  The  same  difficulty  exists  in  regard  to  the 
preservation  of  the  gorgeous  fishes  of  the  intertropical  regions.  I  have 
frequently  skinned  these,  and  taken  every  precaution,  by  the  use  of 
transparent  varnishes,  &c.,  to  prevent  the  colors  from  fading,  but  with- 
out success,  or  at  least,  only  a  small  measure  of  success.  The  colors 
were  still  so  splendid,  after  having  been  dry  for  years,  as  to  excite  uni- 
versal admiration,  and  yet  they  had  not  retained  a  tithe  of  their  bril- 
liancy. 

Off  Cape  Disappointment,  and  for  many  hundred  miles  out  at  sea,  we 
observed  great  numbers  of  Sea  Birds  of  various  kinds,  several  of  which 
T  have  myself  described  and  published  as  new  species.    The  little  (Juil- 
12 


90 


SKETCHES  OF  A   VOYAGE 


lemots,  (Uria)  were  tumbling  and  rolling  along  on  the  surface,  half  swim- 
ming, half  flying,  and  looking  almost  precisely  like  large  eggs  as  they 
sported  across  our  bows.  From  this  resemblance,  which  is  very  stri- 
king, they  have  universally,  among  the  sailors,  obtained  the  name  of 
"•  Egg  Birds. "  Large  Cormorants,  (Phalacrocorax)  of  several  species, 
were  very  abundant,  as  were  also  various  kinds  of  Petrels^  (Procella- 
ria)  and  Mother  Carey's  Chickens^  (Thalassidroma.)  The  last  named 
birds  are  so  called  by  the  sailors  from  the  superstition  too  well  known 
to  be  repeated  here.  In  connexion  with  this  superstition,  Jack  has  also 
the  credit  of  believing,  not  only  that  the  appearance  of  this  pretty  and 
harmless  bird  is  always  indicative  of  the  near  approach  of  a  storm,  but 
that  if  any  one  has  the  temerity  to  catch  and  kill  one,  the  vessel  in 
which  he  sails  will  surely  be  overtaken  by  a  tempest  and  destroyed. — 
This  slander  has  been  circulated  almost  as  extensively  as  the  name  of 
the  bird  is  known.  That  it  is  a  slander,  I  am  perfectly  well  convinced, 
from  having  mingled  much  with  sailors  at  sea,  and  conversed  freely  with 
them.  As  a  class,  it  is  admitted  they  are  superstitious,  though  much 
less  so  than  formerly ;  witness  the  sailing  of  numerous  ships  on  Friday, 
a  departure  from  nautical  rules  which  would  not  have  been  tolerated  a 
few  years  since.  From  this,  and  other  highly  favorable  changes  which 
have  taken  place  in  the  feelings  and  conduct  of  this  class  of  men,  1  trust 
soon  to  hear  of  their  being,  in  a  great  measure,  disenthralled  from  the 
general  odium  which  has  so  long  attached  to  them,  occasioned  doubtless 
by  their  own  obstinacy  in  following  in  the  steps  of  their  progenitors. — 
I  have  never  seen  an  exhibition  of  the  superstition  alluded  to  above, 
but  on  the  contrary  have  frequently  been  aided  by  sailors  in  catching 
"Mother  Carey's  Chickens." 

As  we  approached  the  line,  we  were  gratified  by  seeing  considerable 
numbers  of  the  beautiful  Tropic  Bird,  (Pha:ton  ethnius.)  I  had  been 
long  familiar  with  this  elegant  bird  from  the  dried  specimens  in  our  Mu- 
seums, but  until  I  saw  it  living  and  sporting  in  the  air,  I  had  no  idea  of 
its  exquisite  grace  and  symmetry.  It  is  about  the  size  of  a  Pheasant, 
( Tetrao  umbellus,)  of  a  pure  silvery  white  all  over,  the  breast  and  belly 
strongly  tinged  with  rose-color.  It  is  remarkable  for  having  two  cen- 
tral tail-feathers  of  a  brilliant  crimson,  and  about  twice  the  length  of  the 
whole  body.  I  procured  several  specimens,  but  unfortunately  lost  more 
than  I  obtained,  from  their  falling  into  the  sea  after  being  shot  flying 
over  the  ship.  The  native  boys  of  the  Sandwich  and  Society  Islands 
adopt  a  singular  mode  of  obtaining  the  long  lanceolate  tail-feathers, 
which  are  sometimes  used  as  head  ornaments  by  the  natives,  and  arc 
also  sold  in  bundles  as  curiosities  to  strangers.     The  bitd.s,  at  certain 


TO  THE   SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  91 

seasons,  resor^  in  immense  numbers  to  the  high  and  precipitous  rocks 
of  the  coast,  to  breed.  The  boys  visit  these  communities  at  the  time 
when  the  birds  are  known  to  be  silting,  and  silently  approaching  the 
nest,  quickly  and  adroitly  pluck  the  two  long  feathers  from  the  tail 
without  doing  other  injury  to  the  anxious  parent.  By  this  mode  so 
many  feathers  are  procured,  that  on  almost  any  day,  in  the  Island  of 
Oahu,  at  least  fifty  bunches  of  the  size  of  a  man's  arm  might  be  pur- 
chased from  the  boys,  who  hawk  them  about  for  sale. 

A  large  brown  Albatross  (which  I  have  named  Diomedea  Jusca)  in- 
habits these  seas.  It  differs  considerably  from  the  common  white  spe- 
cies which  is  so  abundant  around  the  two  great  Capes.  Though  smal- 
ler than  the  Cape  Bird,  it  yet  measures  from  twelve  to  fourteen  feet 
across  the  wings.  No  one  who  has  not  seen  this  noble  bird  in  flight 
can  form  any  idea  of  the  extreme  ease  and  grace  with  which  it  skims 
over  the  foaming  billows.  Its  long,  falcate  wing  seems  never  to  tire. — 
Sometimes  it  seeks  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  sailing,  with- 
out any  apparent  motion  of  its  pinions,  and  performing  the  most  sub- 
lime aerial  evolutions.  Again,  it  descends  to  the  surface,  and  floats  over 
the  dashing  and  sparkling  waves ;  now  lost  to  sight  in  the  deep  trough 
of  the  sea,  and  instantly  re-appearing  on  the  crest  of  the  next  billow. — 
On,  on,  he  flies  over  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean,  without  ever  appear- 
ing to  rest,  except  when  he  alights  to  pick  up  something  floating  on  its 
surface.  As  an  instance  of  the  most  incredible  endurance  of  the  Alba- 
tross, ]  will  relate  a  circumstance  which  occurred  during  my  voyage 
from  Chili  to  the  United  States.  About  five  days  after  leaving  the  port 
of  Valparaiso,  a  single  Albatross  made  his  appearance,  the  first  we  had 
seen — I  happened,  at  the  time,  to  be  practicing  with  a  pair  of  large  horse- 
man's pistols ;  my  target  being  a  porter  bottle  suspended  from  the  fore- 
yard.  As  the  bird  hove  in  sight,  our  Captain  seized  one  of  my  pistols 
and  fired.  The  ball  passed  through  one  of  the  wings,  breaking  a  long 
feather,  but  doing  the  bird  no  further  injury.  Strange  to  say,  this  bird 
kept  with  us,  being  easily  recognizable  by  the  broken  and  dangling 
feather.  It  became  a  habit  with  me  each  morning,  to  look  for  the  Al- 
batross, and  I  never  was  kept  long  waiting.  Indeed  the  huge  bird  seem- 
ed to  have  taken  a  fancy  to  our  ship,  (although  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged he  had  not  been  treated  very  kindly  by  us,)  and  night  or  day  he 
appeared  never  to  leave  us.  Whenever  the  moon  gave  light,  our  con- 
sort^ (as  we  were  wont  to  call  him,)  was  always  near  us,  and  for  the 
space  of  more  than  three  weeks,  during  which  time  we  voyaged  about 
two  thousand  five  hundred  miles,  we  never  knew  him  to  alight  upon 
the  surface  of  the  sea.     Finding  it  impossible  to  procure  specimens  of 


92  GEMS  FROM  THE   GERMAN  OF  RICHTER. 

these  and  other  marine  birds  by  the  use  of  the  gun,  I  was  compelled  to 
resort  to  the  common,  though  more  cruel  mode  of  taking  them — baiting 
a  liook  and  hauling  them  in  by  a  line  like  fish.  The  Cape  Pigeon  (Pro- 
cellaria  Capensis)  and  many  other  of  the  small  sea  birds  are  very  read- 
ily secured  in  this  way ;  but  with  the  large  Albatross  the  case  is  widely 
difierent.  When  hooked  in  the  bill  it  resists  with  all  its  might,  spread- 
ing its  long  and  powerful  wings  over  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  catch- 
ing every  wave  as  it  is  drawn  towards  the  ship.  Sometimes  the  hook 
is  torn  out,  and  then,  the  evident  suffering  endured  by  the  poor  bird  is 
so  painful  to  behold,  that  even  the  callous  and  unsympathizing  naturalist 
is  ready  to  desist. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  neither  the  Albatross,  nor  any  other  of  the 
large  sea  birds,  is  capable  of  rising  from  the  deck  of  a  ship  when  once 
landed  upon  it.  They  require  a  yielding  surface,  such  as  the  element 
upon  vvhich  they  live,  to  enable  them  to  commence  their  flight. 

The  little  "Mother  Carey's  Chicken,"  or  "  Stormy  Petrel,"  as  it  is 
often  called,  (Thalassidroma  Wilsonii,)  is,  I  believe,  never  seen  to  alight 
upon  the  water.  It  picks  up  its  food, — which  consists  chiefly  of  small 
sea-nettles,  and  any  fatty  matter,  floating  upon  the  sea, — while  on  wing, 
pattering  constantly,  with  its  little  delicate  feet  upon  the  surface.  From 
this  well  known  habit,  it  originally  acquired  its  name, — Petrel, — from 
its  walking  upon  the  water,  like  Peter  attempted  to  do,  when  he  would 
have  met  his  Divine  Master  upon  the  sea  of  Galilee. 

In  my  next  number,  1  shall  give  some  account  of  my  residence  of 
tlircc  months  at  the  Sandwich  Islands,  with  anecdotes  illustrating  South 
Sea  lift'  amongst  natives  and  foreigners. 

J.  iv.  T. 
Philadelphia,  January  12,  1817. 


GEMS  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  RICHTER. 

God  is  light,  which,  itself  invisible,  makes  all  things  visilile,  and 
gives  to  every  thing  its  color.  Thine  eye  perceives  not  the  ray,  but  thy 
heart  feels  its  warmth. 

Who  can  perceive  the  infinitely  small  ?  Only  one,  the  infinitely 
great. 

Unless  we  remain  quiet  when  stung  by  a  bee  or  by  fortune,  the  sting 
will  break  ofl"  and  remain  behind. 

Vice  is  the  ballast  of  the  earth,  and  vvill  at  its  time  be  cast  out  and 
sunk. 


THE  CAPTEIVEI  OF  PLAUTUS.  93 

IVie  Capieivei  of  Plautus  ;  With  an  hitroductioii  and  Notes^  by 
W>  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M,  Prof,  of  the  Latin  Language,  ^c. 
Pennsytvania  College,  Gettysburg,  Pa. 

We  hail  with  delight  the  multiplication  of  books  designed  to  facili- 
tate the  study  of  ihe  Classics,  and  to  increase  the  appreciation  of  their 
value  among  us.  We  are  glad  to  perceive,  in  the  department  of  classi- 
cal education  in  this  country,  many  signs  of  encouragement.  Within 
the  last  few  years  editions  of  the  Classics  have  appeared  from  the  Amer- 
ican press,  which  have  done  honor  to  the  scholarship  of  our  land, 
whose  merits  have  been  acknowledged  in  other  lands.  We  are  satis- 
fied that  after  all  the  new  methods  of  education  shall  have  been  tried, 
we  shall  at  last  return  to  the  conviction,  that  nothing  is  so  eflcctive  in 
disciplining,  refining,  and  elevating  the  mind,  as  those  often  neglected  and 
much  abused  classical  studies.  • 

It  is  with  much  pleasure  that  we  direct  the  attention  of  our  readers 
to  the  volume  whose  title-page  has  been  given.  The  Editor  brings  to 
the  work  reputation  as  a  linguist,  and  experience  as  an  instructor.  Much 
is,  therefore,  naturally  expected,  but  confident  are  we,  that  these  expec- 
tations are  met.  The  book  is  just  of  the  character  the  pupil  needs. 
Practical  knowledge  of  his  wants,  acquired  by  long  experience,  has  en- 
abled the  Professor  to  furnish  the  kind  of  assistance  required,  to  supply 
the  right  word  of  explanation  at  the  right  place,  without  producing  con- 
fusion by  too  much,  or  obscurity  by  loo  little.  The  notes  seem  to  have 
been  prepared  with  much  care,  and  are  just  what  notes  should  be — 
brief,  comprehensive,  and  judicious  ;  a  guide,  sufficiently  illustrative  of 
the  text,  without  encumbering  with  help:  they  stiikeusas  realizing  the 
true  idea  of  classical  editorship.  Voluminous  comments  are  not  only  use- 
less to  the  student,  but  they  prove  an  actual  injury  to  the  cause  of  classi- 
cal literature.  The  interest  of  the  pupil  should  be  elicited,  and  his  in- 
dustry directed,  rather  than  superseded.  Instead  of  solving  difficulties 
for  him,  he  should  be  put  in  the  way  of  finding  the  solution  himself.  He 
should  be  left  to  exercise  his  own  judgment  in  translation,  and  be  obliged 
to  have  frequent  recourse  to  the  Grammar  and  Lexicon,  rather  than  be 
relieved  by  a  commentary  on  almost  every  line.  In  short,  care  should 
be  taken,  that  the  way  is  not  made  too  easy,  that  the  student  be  not 
bribed  into  habits  of  intellectual  sloth,  and  the  very  object  of  studying 
the  classics  defeated. 

The  introduction  on  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Plautus  is  quite  in- 
teresting, furnishing  the  student  with  a  condensed  account  of  this  most 
popular   dramatic    writer   that  Rome  ever   possessed.     The  essay  on 


94 


I'ROGUAMME. 


Metres  and  the  peculiarities  of  Plautus  is  very  satisfactory,  and  must 
prove  of  valuable  service,  particularly  as  works  accessible  to  students 
are,  in  this  respect,  so  deficient. 

Although  this  is  the  first  attempt  of  the  Editor  In  this  department  of 
Literature,  we  hope  it  will  not  be  the  last;  Glad  should  we  be  if  suf- 
ficient encouragement  would  be  given  to  the  eflbrt  to  justify  a  continu.- 
ance  of  the  labor  so  favorably  commenced — the  publication  of  a  more 
extended  selection  from  the  writings  of  this  great  master  of  Roman  Come- 
dy. We  offer  our  thanks  to  the  Editor  for  the  service  he  has  rendered, 
earnestly  desiring  that  he  may  be  amply  compensated  for  the  time  and 
labor  expended  in  its  preparation,  and  expressing  the  hope,  that  the 
work  may  be  speedily  and  extensively  adopted  as  a  text-book  in  our 
Classical  Schools.  , 


The  Examination  of  the  Classes  in  Pennsylvania  College  will  com- 
mence on  the  1st  inst.,  and  continue  during  the  whole  week.  The  fol- 
lowing is  the  programme  of  the  exercises : 

Monday,  Feb.  1st,  The  Preparatory  Department  will  be  examined 

from  9,  A.  M.  until  12,  m.,  and  from  2,  p.  M. 
to  5,  p.  M. 

Tuesday,  2d,       9,  a.  m.  Freshman  Class  in  Greek. 

10,  "      Sophomore — Latin. 

11,  "      Junior — Natural  Theology. 

2,  p.  M.  Senior — Astronomy. 

3,  "      Junior  German  Class. 

4,  "      Sophomore — Greek  Testament. 
Wednesday,  3d,   9,  a.  m.  Senior — Latin. 

10,  "      Junior — Chemistry. 

11,  "       Sophomore — Greek. 

2,  p.  M.  Freshman — Mathematics. 
31,    "      Junior — Latin. 
Thursday,  4tli,    9,  a.m,  Freshman — Latin. 

10,  "      Sophomore — Mathematics. 

11,  "      Junior— Greek. 

2,  p.  M.  Senior — Butler's  Analogy. 

3,  *"      Freshman — History. 

4,  "      Junior — Mental  Philosophy. 
Fkiday,  5th,          9,  A.M.  Sophomore — Roman  Antiquity. 

91,    "      Freshman — Ancient  Geography.  ^ 

10,  "      Junior — Rhetoric. 

11,  "      Senior  German  Class. 

2,  p.  M.  Senior — Greek. 

3,  "      Sophomore — Algebra. 

Ficnch  and  Drawing. 
SATURDAY,»6th,    9,  A.  M.  Sophomorc— Rhetoric. 


COLLEGE  RECORD. OBITUARY. 

B>/  all  of  human  race,  death  is  a  debt 

That  must  be  paid :  and  none  of  mortal  men 

Knows  whether  till  to-morrow,  life's  short  space 

Shall  be  extended.  Euripides. 

"  Man  Cometh  forth  like  a  flower  and  is  cut  down :  he  fleeth  as  a  shadow  and  con- 
tinuelh  not.  " — Job. 

During  the  last  month  we  have  had  sad  mementos  furnished  us  of  our  own  mor- 
'  tality.  Death  has  entered  our  Institution  and  cut  down  those  who  were  connected 
with  us  by  the  most  interesting  ties  and  endeared  to  us  by  their  many  virtues.  It  is 
indeed  true  that  Daxiel  A.  Willemax,  George  Albert,  and  William  Beard 
are  no  more!  On  the  14th  ult,  the  first,  a  member  of  the  Freshman  Class,  on 
the  loth,  the  second,  of  the  Senior,  and  on  the  2.3d,  the  third,  of  the  Junior  Class, 
ceased  from  among  us.  Although  the  best  medical  sliill  was  put  into  requisition,  it 
proved  of  no  avail;  disease  was  relentless  and  resisted  every  ministration  employed 
for  their  recovery.  Come  when  it  may  into  our  midst,  death  never  fails  to  touch 
the  heart  of  those  who  survive  its  work.  There  is  no  one  so  indifferent  as  to  defy 
its  impressions,  even  when  a  casual  acquaintance  falls  ;  but  when  those  are  torn  from 
us  with  whom  we  were  daily  associated,  and  were  wont  to  hold  sweet  converse, 
whose  amiability,  gentleness  and  kindness,  whose  industry,  application  to  study, 
and  fidelity  to  duty,  whose  exalted  worth,  pure  character  and  sincere  piety  have 
won  for  them  a  high  place  in  our  affections  and  secured  the  esteem  of  all,  the  gloom 
that  prevails,  is  beyond  the  ordinary  feeling,  the  grief  is  inexpressible.  During  a 
painful  and  protracted  illness  the  sinking  spirits  of  these  dear  young  men  welcomed 
death  as  the  entrance  into  that  world  where  the  weary  are  at  rest.  With  a  perfect 
consciousness  of  their  approaching  end, they  expressed  their  unwavering  confidence 
in  the  blessed  Redeemer.  To  them  Death  had  no  terrors  :  they  died  as  they  had 
lived,  in  the  faith  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  confident  and  peaceful  hope 
of  everlasting  perfection  and  bliss  through  his  merits.  We  weep  then  not  for  them  ; 
they  are  safe  and  blest.  We  weep  for  ourselves,  for  the  Church  for  whose  service 
they  were  preparing,  for  the  extension  of  whose  borders  they  were  sighing.  But 
still  they  live  !  And  long,  long  will  they  abide  in  memory  "  despite  the  ruins  of 
the  tomb.  "  The  recollection  of  their  many  virtues  will  long  be  engraven  on  the 
tablets  of  our  hearts.  The  influence  of  their  life  and  example  shall  remain.  From 
their  '•'  walk  and  conversation  "  we  will  learn  the  excellency  of  piety — from  their 
death  we  will  learn  the  power  of  religion  in  qualifying  the  soul  for  heaven. 

May  the  solemn  lessons  addressed  to  us  on  this  mournful  occasion  be  blessed  to 
our  spiritual  improvement.  May  we  listen  to  the  admonition,  how  short  is  time 
and  how  frail  our  hold  upon  it,  what  responsibilities  we  sustain,  and  what  impor- 
tant issues  are  before  us  !  Blay  we  remember  that  we  are  not  proof  against  the 
shafts  of  death — that  our  eye  too  must  lose  its  lustre,  and  our  frame  its  vigor — that 
even  now  the  grave  waits  to  receive  our  ashes,  and  the  church  bell  will  soon  have 
tolled  our  knell !  May  we  so  live  then  that  death  will  be  to  us  only  an  admission 
into  higher  life — that  survivors  may  shed  over  our  tomb  tears  of  hope  as  well  as 
tears  of  sorrow ;  that  they  may  discover,  in  their  remembrance  of  us,  springs  of 
comfort,  testimonies  to  the  power  of  religion,  encouragements  to  virtue  and  piety, 
and  pledges  of  immortality !  May  we  so  live  and  "  walk  with  God,  "  that,  when 
summoned  from  time  to  eternity,  we  may  commit  our  departing  spirits  to  Hiin  who 
gave  them,  with  humble  trust,  with  fdial  prayer,  with  undying  hope  :  that  death 
may  be  gain,  and  "when  Christ,  who  is  our  Life,  shall  appear,  we  may  appear  with 
Him  in  glory.  " 


96  — — — 

DEATH  OF  WILLIAM  A.  RENSHAW. 

Who  to  himself  shall  promise  length  of  life  ? 

None  but  the  fool :  for  O!  toiday  (done 

Is  ours  :  we  are  not  certain  of  to-morrow.  Sophocles. 

"  .ds  for  man,  his  days  are  as  grass  :  as  a  flower  of  the  field,  so  he  flourishcih. 
For  the  wind  passeth  over  it,  and  it  is  gone  :  and  the  place  thereof  shall  Icnoio  it  no 
more.  " — The  Sweet  Singer  of  Israel. 

It  is  with  no  ordinary  degree  of  sorrow  that  we  record  the  death,  and  offer  our 
tribute  of  affection  to  the  memory  of  another,  who  was  linown  to  us  as  a  pupil  and  a 
friend,  an  associate  and  a  Christian — whom  we  had  learned  to  admire  for  liis  talents 
and  to  love  for  his  worth.  Renshaw,  too,  is  numbered  with[the  dead  !  On  the  21st  of 
January  his  spirit  passed  into  the  rest  which  is  eternity,  and  is  now,  we  trust,  with 
God! 

Mr.  Renshaw  completed  his  course  in  Pennsylvania  College,  and  was  gradua- 
ted at  the  last  Commencement.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Winter  term  he  became 
a  member  of  the  Theological  Seminary  of  this  place,  and,  with  a  view  to  the  Chris- 
tian ministry,  he  was  faithfully  and  successfully  prosecuting  his  studies.  About  a 
month  since,  disease,  entering  the  Seminary,  seized  hold  of  his  frame,  and  death 
speedily  selected  him  as  a  victim.  Although  every  thing  was  done  for  his  restora- 
tion that  either  medical  science  could  suggest,  or  affectionate  sympathy  prompt, 
it  was  all  in  vain. 

Whilst  we  contemplate  the  removal  from  among  us  of  our  esteemed  friend,  as 
the  fulfillment  of  that  law  of  our  being  which  makes  it  needful  for  man  once  to  die, 
we  cannot  but  lament  the  loss  of  one  whom  we  had  hoped  to  see  spared  for  many 
years  of  active  usefulness,  the  pride  of  his  Mma  Mater,  an  ornament  to  the  com- 
munity, and  a  blessing  to  the  Church.  This  mysterious  and  melancholy  event  we 
must  ascribe  to  the  sovereign  pleasure  of  that  Almighty  Being  who  works  all  things' 
according  to  the  counsel  of  His  most  wise  and  righteous  will,  who  "  numbers  our 
days,  ■'  who  "  changes  the  countenance  of  man  and  sends  him  away,  "  and  we  must 
acknowledge  it  to  be  just.  No  matter  how  painful  the  dispensation,  it  is  our 
duty  to  acquiesce  in  the  appointment  of  Heaven,  to  bow  with  Chi-istian  resignation, 
gratefully  recollecting  tliat  He,  xoho  strikes,  has  power  to  heal.  None  but  God  could 
take  the  life  God  gave,  or  dissolve  what  God  has  made.  Our  friend  has  gone — but 
as  the  thought  recurs,  it  is  softened  by  the  cheering  reflection  that  he  has  passed 
from  earth  to  heaven,  from  sin  to  holiness,  has  exchanged  a  life  of  labor  and  toil 
for  that  of  rest,  sufferings  for  eternal  bliss.  Disease  no  longer  preys  upon  his  body 
— no  longer  temptation  assails,  or  care  distracts.  Hitherto  he  was  associated  with 
men,  now  he  is  the  companion  of  angels.  Shall  not  the  heart  then  respond  to 
the  song  of  holy  resignation  : 

Why  should  we  mourn  departed  friends 

Or  start  at  death's  alarms  ? 
'Tis  but  the  voice  that  Jesus  sends 
To  call  us  to  his  arms ! 

Whilst  we  deeply  sympathize  with  the  bereaved  friends,  we  can  only  point  them 
for  consolation  to  that  Higher  Power  which  is  never  found  to  deny  comfort  to 
those  who  ask  reverently  that  His  will,  not  theirs,  be  done.  JMay  our  Father  and 
the  Saviour  of  us  all,  who  tempers  the  breeze  to  the  shorn  lamb,  extend  over  them 
the  shelter  of  his  wing,  and  sanctify  this  afflicting  dispensation  to  their  eternal  good, 
that  it  may  work  out  for  them  "a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 


Jpcunsnluania  College,  (Scttn^bitrg,  JDa. 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 
C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D. — President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Ilel.,  Ethics,  ^c. 
Kev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 
Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Vhcinislnj  and  Mechanical  Philos. 
Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 
M.  L.  Stoever,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  ofPrej)ara1ory  Department. 
Rev.  Chas.  a.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Lterature. 
Herman  Haupt,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Maihematcs,  Draivng  and  French. 
David  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  Anatomy  and  Physology. 
John  G.  Morris,  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 
Abraham  Essick. — Tutor. 
John  K.  Plitt. —  Tutor. 

Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  fifteen  years.  Dur- 
ing this  tim6  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions of  its  friends.  The  course  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that 
of  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  Tlie  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- 
struction in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition 
to  tlie  elements  of  the  Mathematics  and  Classical  Literature.  The  College  Course 
is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  to 
require.  They  attend  three  recitations  a  day,  Church  and  Bible  Class  on  th  Sab- 
bath, and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  danger  of 
any  great  irregularities.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice, 
special  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
session,  .'$63  62| :  for  the  summer  session,  .'$48  12^.  Washing,  .ilO  00;  and  Wood, 
$3  00.  Total  expense,  ^119  75.  Boarding  can  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  26  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance. 

The  semi-annual  examination  will  commence  on  Monday  Februaiy  1st,  and 
continue  during  the  whole  week. 


Receipts  during ^Januen^]/. 

Joseph  Brown,  Smithsburg,  Md. 
Frederick  Bell,  Leitersburg,  Md, 
Rev.  VV.  S.  Emery,  VVatevstreet,  Pa. 
William  Walter,  '  " 

Rev.  Wm.  A.  Passavant,  Pittsburg, 
Geo.  Fahnestock,  " 

Rev.  A.  A.  Trimper,  Hillsboro',  111. 
Frederick  G.  Ealy,  Waynesboro', 
Alexander  M.  Rogers,  Baltimore, 
Percival  J.  Trion,  Gettysburg, 
James  S.  Bryan,  Eiizabethtown, 


%\  00  Vol. 

,3d. 

'  2  00   : 

1  &2 

1  00   : 

3 

1  00   : 

3 

2  00   : 

3  &4 

2  00   : 

2  &3 

1  00   : 

3 

1  00   : 

3 

1  00   : 

2 

1  00   : 

O 

1  00 

Pmu0ijtoama  JHebical  OloUcgc, 

Filbert  above  Elevpiith  street,  Philadelphia. 


Medical  Family  at  Philadelphia. 

Wm.  Darrach,  M.  D, — Prof,  of  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine. 

John  Wiltbank,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  ObsUtrics  and  Diseases  of  icomen  and  children, 

H.  S.  Patterson,  M.  D. —  Prof,  of  Materia  Medica. 

W-M.  R.  Grant.  M.  D. — Prof  of  ./Inalomy  and  Phi/nolos;y. 

D.  Gii.KKRT,  M.  D. —  Prof  of  Principles  and  Practice  cf  Surgery. 

W.  L.  Atlee,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Medical  Chemistry. 

W.  T.  Babe,  M.  D. — Demonsiraior  of  Anatomy. 


\  ?!Donation  to  (itobinct. 

',         From  Esaiuf.  7..  Little,  Gettysburg,  Colymbiis  Glacialis  (Loon.) 

;  JDonatioixs  to  Cibrarji. 

1.  From    Edward  C.  Herrick,  Esq.    New  Haven,     per  Prof.  M.  L.  Sioever, 
'  Dr.  DeKay's  address  on  the  process  of  Natural  History  in  the  United  States. 

2.  A  Catalogue  of  New  Haven  plants. 

.3.     An  Es.say  on  the  Northern  liijhts,  and  other  meteoric  phenomena. 
j  4.     From    Rev.  C.  P.  Krauth.  Baltimore,    per  F.  W.  Bravns,  Muhlenberg's 

;  History  of  grasses  in  Noith  America. 
'         4    From  National  Institute,  AVashington,  Fourth  Bulletin  of  its  Proceedings. 


\         Terms  of  the  Record  a^d  Journal.    One  Dollar  per  annum 

J    in  advance. 

/        Afldress — ^•Erlilors  of  the  Record  and  Journal,^  Getlyshurg^  Pa.'''' 


^^^ 


VOLUME  III.] 


Fnumber  5. 


LITERARY   RECORD  AND  JOURNAL 

®f  t\)t  S'xnnatan  Sissot'iat'mx  of  PcnnspUmn'm  ttolUge. 
MARCH,   1847. 


CONDUCTED 


Mvt  a  Commtttee  of  the  ^ssocCatiou. 


CONTENTS. 
the  age  of  pericles,  -         .        -         _ 

loose  leaves  from  my  jour.nal,     -         -         - 
on  readi.xg,         __---- 

Arnold's  nepos,       ------ 

reminiscences  of  student-life  in  germany, 

THE   SHEPHERD  BOY's  DREAM,  -  .  - 

GEMS  FROM  THE   GERMAN  OF  RICHTER, 

ROBERT  FULTON,  ------ 

SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE,  AND  RESIDENCE  IN   THE 
SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS,  .  _  -  - 

COLLEGE  RECORD,  ----- 


97 
100 
103 

10.5 
108 
110 
111 
112 

113 
120 


1:';   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2i  ceiit^,  to  an)-  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRLNTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINNiEAN  ASSOCIATION  OP  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 


Vol.  II r.  MARCri,  1847.  No.  5. 


THE  AGE  OP  PERICLES.       iVO.  II. 

One  of  the  chief  sources  of  amusement  and  instruction,  in  the  age 
to  which  we  refer,  was  the  Drama.  This  art  Iiad  passed  from  the 
rude  form  in  which  it  first  appeared  under  the  guidance  of  Thespis.  It 
liad  ceased  to  be  a  movable  stage,  with  a  single  actor  to  recite  things  lu- 
dicrous and  grave,  accompanied  by  a  cliorus  of  buffoons.  iEschylus 
had  introduced  the  dialogue  and  a  fixed  stage,  and  had  thrown  around 
this  art  the  vigor  and  hue  of  his  own  lofty  genius.  Rough,  bold,  un- 
polished, yet  sublime,  he  may  be  said  to  have  given  character  and  fixed- 
ness to  the  stage,  which  before  was  without  a  name  and  place.  To 
him  succeeded  Sophocles,  the  most  perfect  in  the  form  and  sentiment, 
and  Euripides,  the  most  pathetic  and  tragical.  Now  there  were  intro- 
duced upon  the  stage  three  personages,  the  chorus  of  spectators,  and 
scenery  and  other  accompaniments,  such  as  to  furnish  the  most  lively 
gratification  to  the  intellectual  powers  and  the  senses. 

The  tragedies,  enacted  before  all  the  people,  at  which  they  were  not 
only  privileged  to  attend,  but  had  the  means  furnished  them  by  the  in- 
strumentality of  Pericles,  were  generally  confined  to  the  events  which 
occurred  to  a  few  distinguished  families  of  the  heroic  age.  Here  were 
exhibited  the  loftiest  sentiments  of  i)atriotism,  sound  morals,  and  piety 
towards  the  gods.  The  misfortunes  of  life,  by  being  renewed  before  them, 
in  the  personages  of  some  of  their  most  distinguished  heroes,  made 
them  submissive,  and  awakened  within  them  the  emotions  of  pity  and 
fear.  But  we  do  not  intend  to  discuss  the  character  or  merits  of  the 
Drama  in  the  abstract,  but  rather  to  present  it  as  it  appeared  at  Athens 
in  the  age  of  Pericles.  It  had  attained  its  highest  pitch  of  grandeur 
and  excellency  both  in  its  form  and  exhibition.  It  is  vain  to  place  be- 
side the  master-pieces  of  this  age  the  most  perfect  model  of  modern 
times.  The  splendor  of  the  Theatre  in  its  architectural  structure,  the 
13 


98  THE  Ar.F.  OF  PERICLKS. 

scenery,  the  music,  the  actors  altogether  surpassed  any  thing  of  the  kind 
which  appeared  before  or  since. 

Comedy,  which  yet  existed  in  its  old  form  or  was  in  its  transition 
state,  flourished  under  the  inspiration  of  Aristophanes.  Tragedy  was 
dignified  and  elevating ;  comedy,  descending  to  personalities,  to  low  and 
vulgar  abuse,  according  to  the  whim  or  passion  of  the  writer,  was  re- 
ceived by  the  populace  with  unmeasured  applause.  It  fell  in  naturally 
with  the  democratic  spirit  of  the  Athenians  to  hear  their  best  men,  their 
most  distinguished  generals,  statesmen,  and  philosophers  brought  down 
to  the  level  of  their  vulgar  slang,  and  covered  with  the  ridicule  of  their 
dirty  jokes.  This  is  human  nature.  If  men  cannot  elevate  themselves 
to  the  dignity  and  importance  of  those  by  whom  they  are  surrounded, 
ihey  obtain  equal  honor  by  bringing  them  down  to  tiieir  own  level.  In 
either  case,  there  is  at  least  theoretic  equality.  The  degree  of  licen- 
tiousness to  which  this  form  of  amusement  was  carried  may  be  inferred 
fi"om  the  fact,  that  the  names  of  real  personages  were  mentioned,  and 
their  characters  held  up  to  ridicule,  and  that  Socrates  himself,  perhaps 
the  most  perfect  model  of  heathen  morals,  did  not  escape.  If  we  throw 
ourselves  back  in  imagination  to  the  time  referred  to,  and  imagine  com- 
ic poets  at  liberty  to  ridicule  on  the  stage  before  the  great-vulgar  any 
and  every  description  of  cliaracter,  we  will  be  able  to  form  some  con- 
ception of  the  degree  of  liberty  enjoyed  at  Athens  in  the  age  of  Pericles. 
We  will  see  a  degree  of  licentiousness  not  to  be  found  any  where  else, 
either  in  ancient  or  modern  times,  and  will  be  led  to  wonder,  how  in 
such  a  state  of  things,  prosperity  smiled  upon  them  at  home  and  abroad. 
The  mischievous  tendency  of  this  freedom  was  seen  and  felt  ere  long 
by  the  Athenians  themselves,  and  they  hastened  by  law  to  arrest  the  fa- 
tal evil.  For  the  worst  form  of  licentiousness  is  that  of  the  tongue, 
against  which  there  appears  to  be  no  adequate  remedy,  except  banish- 
ment or  death.  The  licentiousness  of  the  ancient  comedy  is  principally 
due  to  Pericles,  who,  courting  the  favor  of  the  people,  not  only  secured 
for  each  an  appropriation  of  two  oboli  a  day,  but  perfect  freedom  of 
representation  in  addition,  until  the  licentiousness  of  the  stage  was  di- 
rected against  himself  personally. 

Another  cause  of  the  dangerous  liberty  of  the  comedy  may  be  found 
in  the  turbulence  of  the  times,  when  the  refined  sentiments  of  Menan- 
der  could  not  be  relished.  The  luxury  and  ease  necessary  to  appreciate 
such  beauties  yielded  to  the  dangers  and  doubts  of  a  protracted  war 
abroad,  and  turbulence  and  pestilence  at  home.  The  excitement  produ- 
ced by  such  causes  created  a  demand  for  something  more  gross  and 
palpable. 


THE  AGE  OF   PEUlCLESi.  99 

At  the  same  time,  the  arts  of  Faulting,  Sculpture,  and  Music  were 
carried  to  perfection.     Music  had  from  the  earliest  times  received  much 
attention.     It  was  employed  to  subdue  their  feelings  and  add  solemnity 
to  their  religious  ceremonies.     It  inspired  them  with  courage  in  the  day 
of  battle,  and  threw  an  additional  charm  over  the  sweetness  of  domes- 
tic life.     The  effects,  which  tradition  ascribed  to  it,  in  the  days  of  Am- 
phion  and  Orpheus,  are  unquestionably  due,  in  a  great  measure,  to  re- 
moteness of  time  and  vivacity  of  imagination.     Then  the  art  was  rude 
and  produced  its  happiest  results.     Its  tendency  was  to  soften  and  re- 
fine.    But  music,  like  every  art  and  acquirement  when  unsanctified,  be- 
came an  instrument  of  evil.     That,  which  in  its  infancy  subdued  and 
softened,  now  enervated.     That,  which  arrested  the  fierce  warrior  in 
his  mad  career  and  soothed  his  passions  into  peace,  now  held  him  spell- 
bound, an  idler  and  a  sensualist;  and  that,   which  elevated  and  refined 
the  external  man,  by  influencing  his  feelings,  now  destroyed  the  man- 
liness and  vigor  of  those  feelings,  and  led  him  captive,  a  wanton,  per- 
verted in  mind  and  manners.     Aristotle  says,  ironically,  "Every  kind  of 
music  is  good  for  something ;  that  of  the  theatre  is  good  for  the  mob, 
being  well  suited  to  the  perversion  of  their  minds  and  manners,  and  let 
them  enjoy  it."     Plato,  Aristoxenus  and  Plutarch  bitterly  complain   of 
the  corruption   of   music,  as  the  main  source  of  vice  and  immorality. 
That  art,  which  had  anciently  been  used  as  the  vehicle  of  religious  and 
moral  instruction,  was  employed  in  the  theatres  to  excite  every  voluptu- 
ous and  dissolute  passion.     In  modern  Italy,  and  France,  and  Germany, 
Ave  can  see  the  operation  of  the  same  causes  modified  by  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  each  nation.     That  such  should  be  the  effect  of  music 
of  this  particular  kind,  many  may  be  slow  to  believe.     Yet  we  cannot 
refuse   our  assent  to   the  concurring  testimony  of  ancient  writers,  who 
refer  to  this  cause  the  extreme  degeneracy  and  corruption  which  almost 
imiversally  infected   the   Athenians   at  the  period  now  under  review. 
Causes,  which  operate  on  the  many,  are  not  easily  mistaken  :  butsliould 
we   still  doubt  the  cause,  the   effect  at  least  cannot  be  denied.     Tlie 
Athenian  youth  are  said  to  have  dissipated  their  fortunes  and  melted  the, 
vigor  of  mind  and  body  by  wanton  and  expensive  dalliance  with  female 
performers  on  the  theatre.     Weary  and  fastidious  with  excess  of  crimi- 
nal indulgence,  they  lost  all  capacity  or  relish  for  solid  and  manly  oc- 
cupations, and  at  once  deserted  the  exercises  of  war,  and  the  schools  of 
the  philosophers.     To  fill  up  the  vacuities  of  their  listless  lives,  they, 
as  well  as  persons  more  advanced  in  years,  loitered  in  the  shops  of  mu- 
sicians and  other  artists  ;  and  sauntered  in  the  forum  and  public  places 
inquiiing  after  news  in  which  they  took  no  interest,  unless  some  danger 


100  LOOSE  LEAVES 

alarmed  the  insipid  uniformity  of  their  pleasures.  Dice  and  other  games 
of  chance  were  carried  to  a  ruinous  excess,  and  are  so  keenly  stigma- 
tized by  moral  writers  of  that  age,  that  it  would  seem  they  had  begun 
but  recently  to  prevail  and  prove  fatal. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.   V. 
BY  J.  G.  M. 

"  I'm  on  the  sea,  I'm  on  the  sea, 
I  am  where  I  would  never  be." — 

Thus  groaned  to-day  a  poor,  sea-sick  compagnon  du  voyage,  who 
solemnly  declared  that  if  he  should  be  spared  to  reach  the  land,  which 
he  thought  he  woukPnt  live  to  do,  no  man  would  ever  catch  hinr  at 
sea  again.  I  was  mercifully  exempted  from  this  visitation,  thanks  under 
Providence  to  a  good  stomach,  a  good  conscience,  and  a  stout  heart, 
and  spent  much  of  my  time  in  naturalizing.  On  my  outward  voyage, 
nothing  of  special  interest  occurred — we  saw  neither  whales,  nor  sea-ser- 
pents ;  we  caught  no  crabs,  and  harpooned  no  porpoises.  Not  even  a 
flying-fish  crossed  our  path,  and  in  general,  it  was  a  dull  voyage  for  a 
naturalist.  But  still,  there  was  enough  to  engage  our  attention  occa- 
sionally, and  almost  all  the  way  across  we  were  accompanied  by  that 
everlasting  Flyer,  the  Sea-gull.  These  birds  (Larus,  Lin.)  are  met  with 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  and  seem  to  be  untiring  on  the  wing. 
For  hours  they  fly  rapidly  along,  occasionally  darting  down  to  pick  up 
some  oflal  thrown  from  the  ship,  or  to  pounce  on  a  stray  flying-iish 
that  has  ventured  out  of  iiis  native  element.  Now  and  then  a  gull  may 
be  seen  Uoating  on  the  top  of  the  wave,  and  its  graceful  rising  and  fall- 
ing with  the  motion  of  tlie  water  is  an  interesting  spectacle.  It  is  in 
tliis  way  they  rest  by  day  and  sleep  at  niglit.  The  diflerent  species 
seem  to  live  harmoniously  together,  for  they  are  all  ocean  wanderers 
and  marauders,  and  like  other  pirates  of  diflerent  complexions,  languages 
and  countries,  they  agree  to  plunder  whatever  falls  in  their  way.  By 
throwing  a  piece  of  fat  pork  over  board,  we  could  attract  a  whole  fami- 
ly together,  until  some  fish  or  other  marine  monster  would  snatch  it 
away  from  them.  I  have  often  wondered  what  induced  these  birds  to 
go  so  far  out  to  sea,  when  their  food  could  he  procured  along  the  coast, 
for  it  consists  of  small  fish  and  the  flesh  of  dead  animals  floating  on  the 
water,  but  I  presume  they  follow  ships  from  whicli  they  have  received 
a  choice  morsel  when  near  land,  expecting  to  receive  the  same  every 
day.  For  many  days  in  succession  1  have  observed  the  same  gull 
careering  round  our  chip  every  morning  as  soon  as  1  went  on  deck,  and 


FROM  MY  JOURNAL.  101 

I  did  not  lose  sight  of  it  until  after  a  gale.  It  was  interesting  to  watch 
this  bird  in  a  storm.  It  would  fly  close  to  the  water,  although  the 
waves  were  running  what  is  poetically  called  "  mountain-high."  One 
moment,  it  would  be  low  down  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  and  you  would 
suppose  the  monster  wave  sweeping  along  would  overwhelm  it,  but  the 
bird  would  gracefully  follow-  the  curve  and  rise  to  the  crest  of  it,  and 
seem  to  bid  defiance  to  the  most  violent  shakes  of  Neptune's  trident. 
They  breed  in  the  sand  or  in  clefts  of  rock,  laying  but  few  eggs  at  a 
lime,  but  as  soon  as  the  young  birds  are  capable  of  flying,  they  launch 
out  on  their  ocean  adventures,  returning  only  periodically  to  obey  the 
great  law  of  their  nature,  the  propagation  of  their  kind. 

The  porpoises  when  abundant,  and  they  usually  occur  in  troops,  af- 
ford constant  amusement.  They  are  full  of  fun  themselves,  and  cut  the 
most  curious  antics  around  the  ship.  You  will  see  them  approaching 
several  miles  off,  and  it  looks  very  much  as  if  they  were  playing  the 
game  of  leap-frog,  for  such  a  tumbling  over  each  other — such  a  jumping 
out  of  the  water  over  the  heads  of  those  going  before — such  a  racing 
and  snorting  and  shaking  of  tails — such  a  threshing  of  each  other  sides 
can  only  be  equalled  by  a  crowd  of  impatient  boys  just  let  loose  from 
school.  This  animal  (Phocana,  Lin.)  swims  veiy  swiftly,  for  even 
when  our  ship  was  tearing  through  the  water  at  nine-knots,  the  por- 
poises would  cross  and  recross  her  bow  and  shoot  ahead  of  her  with 
ease.  When  below  the  surface  of  the  water,  they  show  the  most  beau- 
tiful green  color  you  can  conceive,  but  this  is  the  case  with  all  large 
fish.  They  are  cunning  fellows  and  are  not  easily  caught,  and  this  in- 
duced a  punning  friend  of  mine  to  remark,  who  had  tried  in  vain  to 
hook  one,  "  after  all,  they  are  not  so  green  as  they  look." 

As  we  neared  the  British  channel,  we  were  all  called  up  one  day  to 
see  a  big-Jish,  and  sure  enough,  within  a  few  yards  of  the  ship,  three 
or  four  monsters  were  gamboling  in  beautiful  style.  They  were  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  feet  long  ;  they  would  poke  their  huge  snouts  out  of 
the  water,  turn  on  their  sides,  dive  under  the  ship,  thresh  the  surface 
with  their  tails,  and  seemed  to  be  cutting  capers  just  for  our  amusement. 
The  sailors  called  them  ^^JS''or  capers?''  It  was  a  larger  species  o{  Plio- 
ccena,  than  our  other  friend  of  that  genus.  Tlicy  kept  us  company  for 
some  hours  and  then  disappeared.  Our  boatswain  got  his  harpoon  rea- 
dy, but  like  many  another  sportsman,  just  as  he  was  prepared  to  take 
aim,  the  game  flew  away. 

On  my  return  voyage,  the  season  was  much  farther  advanced,  and 
the  ocean  game  w^as  much  more  plentiful.  For  many  days  together, 
millions  of  sea-nettles  {Medusa.  Lui.)  tloated  past  our  chip.   These  ani- 


102  LOOSE  LEAVES   ETC. 

mals  look  like  a  mass  of  jelly,  with  a  disk  more  or  less  convex,  resem- 
bling tlie  head  of  a  mushroom.  Their  locomotion  is  assisted  by  the 
contractions  and  dilatations  of  this  disk,  from  which,  as  well  as  from 
the  mouth  in  the  centre,  tentacles  of  various  forms  and  sizes  proceed. 
These  are  the  arms  by  which  the  animal  seizes  its  prey.  When  I  say 
millions  floated  by  us,  I  mean  no  exaggeration, — the  whole  sea  appeared 
to  be  covered  with  them,  and  this  continued  for  many  days.  The  gen- 
era and  species  were  numerous.  The  species  of  one  genus,  that  looked 
precisely  like  a  dice-box  half  flattened  and  that  had  no  tentacles,  united 
themselves  together  at  the  sides — sometimes  there  were  as  many  as 
twenty  thus  united,  and  then  they  looked  exactly  like  a  riband  of  a  yard 
in  length,  and  four  inches  wide,  floating  under  the  surface.  We  fished 
up  many  by  means  of  a  rude  net  constructed  for  the  occasion,  and  when 
brought  up,  they  lost  their  form,  and  were  nothing  more  than  a  shape- 
less mass  of  gelatinous  matter. 

The  luminosity  of  the  sea  at  night  attracted  the  attention  of  every 
one.  This  is  supposed  to  be  occasioned  by  the  minute  Crustacea  and 
other  microscopic  animals  with  which  the  sea  is  crowded,  and  wl^ich 
emit  a  phosphorescent  light.  ]  had  bought  a  good  microscope  in  Paris, 
and  brouglit  it  out  to  observe  these  animalcules,  but  all  the  idlers  on 
board  immediately  surrounded  me  ;  every  one  wanted  a  look  before  I 
had  adjusted  the  instrument,  and  the  ship  rolled  so  violently,  that  I 
could  make  no  observations. 

It  was  on  this  voyage,  that  1  first  saw  the  flying-fish.  (ExocetuSf 
Lin.)  Poor  little  things,  how  they  did  fly  from  iheir  voracious  pursu- 
ers, the  dolphins  !  They  would  rise  out  of  the  water,  skim  over  the 
surface  about  fifty  yards  and  llicn  fall  in; — having  wet  their  tciv.gs^  they 
rise  again  and  take  another  flight,  but  their  persecutors  would  be  rush- 
ing on  after  them  at  a  terrible  rate.  Some,  no  doubt,  escaped,  but  there 
must  have  been  a  sad  havoc  among  them  on  that  day. 

One  calm  morning,  long  before  I  rose,  I  heard  more  than  ordinary 
confusion  on  deck  in  a  calm,  i  heard  the  uproarious  voice  of  a  fellow 
passenger,  and  1  knew  that  something  uncommon  had  occurred.  I 
crept  out  of  my  beith  to  see  the  fun,  and  coming  on  deck  1  saw  three  or 
four  fish  about  twice  the  size  of  a  shad,  which  had  been  caught  by  hook 
and  line.  They  were  Bonetns,  and  their  capture  afforded  fine  sport. 
Thousands  of  them  followed  us  for  several  days,  until  they  were  voted 
a  decided  bore,  especially  as  they  were  not  very  palatable  to  the  taste. 
1  believe  the  steerage  passengers  and  sailors  relished  them  greatly. 

About  tliis  time,  we  were  highly  amused  for  many  hours  in  succes- 
sion at  seeing  vast  shoals  of  small   fish  about   ?ix   inches  in  Icngtfi,  ri- 


ON  READING.  103 

sing  out  of  the  sea  in  long,  successive  leaps  ;  up  and  down  ihey  went 
racing  through  the  water,  and  these  Bonetas  after  them  at  a  Ivilling  rate. 
It  was  like  the  grey-hound  after  the  hare.  But  it  was  not  only  these 
marine  pursuers  which  demolished  thousands  of  them.  Tlie  gulls  came 
down  upon  them  like  an  avalanche,  and  swallowed  them  wholesale. 
The  poor  little  fish  had  no  peace  any  where.  In  the  water,  they  were 
attacked  by  the  big  fish,  and  out  of  it,  they  fell  a  prey  to  the  voracious 
gulls.     Similar  scenes  we  behold  every  day  in  human  life. 

The  stormy  Petrels  (Procellaria,  Lin.)  (Mother  Carey\'i  Chickens, 
vulgarly,)  were  extremely  abundant  nearly  the  whole  voyage.  It  is  a 
small  bird  not  as  large  as  a  robin,  and  occurs  every  where  at  sea.  They 
fly  gracefully  and  approach  within  a  few  yards  of  the  ship.  When  they 
seek  shelter  on  a  vessel,  then  look  out  for  a  hurricane  !  We  caught  a 
number  of  them,  by  tying  a  small  piece  of  fat  to  a  cotton  thread  and 
throwing  it  over  board  from  the  stern.  Hundreds  would  come  to  de- 
vour it,  and  in  flying  about  it,  in  such  numbers,  every  now  and  then, 
one  would  get  his  wings  fastened  by  the  thread,  and  thus  we  would 
haul  him  on  board  unhurt.  After  inspecting  him  and  receiving  on  our 
hands  the  contents  of  his  stomach  which  he  would  eject,  we  would  let 
him  fly  again.  They  rise  with  some  difficulty  from  the  deck,  and  seem 
to  be  awkward  in  every  movement  except  when  on  the  wing. 


ON  READING.       NO,   IV. 

"  'Tis  not  a  melancholy  utinam  of  mine  own,  but  the  desires  of  better  heads, 
that  tiiere  were  a  general  Synod  ;  not  to  unite  the  incompatible  difference  of  re- 
ligion, but  for  the  benefit  of  learning ;  to  reduce  it  as  it  lay  at  first  in  a  few  and  sol- 
id authors,  and  to  condemn  to  the  fire  those  swarms  and  millions  of  rhapsodies  be- 
gotten only  to  distract  and  abuse  the  weaker  judgment  of  scholars,  and  to  maintain 
the  trade  and  mystery  of  typographers." 

Sir  Thomas  Browne. — Religio  Medici. 

If  mere  amusement,  or  the  gratification  of  idle  curiosity,  were  the 
proper  object  in  reading,  then  the  superficial  mode  which  we  have  been 
condemning  might  be  allowed ;  and  if  the  great  end  were  to  make  a 
show  of  knowledge,  nothing  could  be  better  calculated  to  gain  that  end 
than  the  indulgence  in  miscellaneous  reading  which  we  have  been  seek- 
ing to  correct.  But  the  true  end  to  be  had  in  view,  whatever  be  the 
more  immediate  object,  should  be  self-improvement.  And  whether  this 
improvement  shall  consist  in  the  cultivation  of  taste,  and  purity  of  style; 
in  the  acquisition  of  information;  in  mental  discipline  or  moral  eleva- 
tion ;  the  mind  must  be  actively  employed,  and  careful  attention  must 
be  given  to  wliat  is  read. 


J04  OS  REAnLNG. 

If  we  might  vniture  to  give  a  single  precept  comprehensively  ex- 
pressing our  views  on  this  subject,  it  would  be  this  :  Be  careful  in  the 
selection  of  hooks^  and  read  wiih  attention.  Dr.  Arnold,  in  one  of  his 
excellent  letters,  has  this  remark  :  "  I  would  say,  as  a  good  general 
rule,  never  read  tlie  works  of  an  ordinary  man,  except  on  scientific  mat- 
ters, or  when  they  contain  simple  matters  of  fact."  This  strikes  us  as 
very  sensible  ;  and  it  will  serve,  in  some  sort,  as  a  guide  in  the  exceed- 
ingly difficult  matter  of  selecting  our  books.  For  it  is  as  important  to 
know  lohat  to  read  as  how  to  read ;  as  important  to  read  good  books,  as 
to  read  them  well. 

Choose  then  good  books,  and  read  them  with  attention.  Let  the 
habit  be  formed  of  careful  deliberation,  and  reflection  on  what  is  read. 
The  subject  before  us  should  be  mastered  :  at  least,  we  should  understand 
what  the  author  means  to  say  about  it.  This  may  be  a  slow  process ; 
but  it  is  a  sure  one  to  acquire  true  wisdom.  And  if  this  habit  be  early 
formed  you  will  be  able  to  read  rapidly  enough.  Let  it  be  borne  in 
mind  that  the  number  of  books  read  is  not  the  important  point.  It  is 
not  the  "mif/<a,"  but  the  ^hnuUiun,  about  which  you  should  be  most 
concerned.  Remember  that  it  is  not  the  multitude  of  other  men's 
thoughts  crowded  irregularly  into  your  mind,  that  will  make  you  truly 
wise,  and  give  you  great  weight  of  character.  Wisdom  is  only  to  be 
attained  by  your  own  reflection  on  what  you  read  :  by  the  independent 
action  of  your  own  mind,  sifting,  separating,  combining,  and  deducing 
sound  principles  from  well  selected  materials.  There  is  much  good 
sense,  if  little  poetry,  in  these  lines  of  Cowper  : 

"  Knowledge  and  wisdom,  far  from  being  one, 
Have  ofttimes  no  connection.     Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men, 
Wisdom,  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge,  a  rude  unprofitable  mass. 
The  mere  materials  with  which  wisdom  builds. 
Till  smooth'd,  and  squared  and  fitted  to  its  place, 
Does  but  encumber  whom  it  seems  t'enrich. 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learned  so  much ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more." 

It  were  eas^'  to  cite  examples  illustrative  of  the  benefits  of  the  course 
here  commended.  Grinike  informs  us,  that  in  the  outset  of  iiis  career, 
he  consumed  a  whole  month  in  the  perusal  of  a  single  moderate  sized 
duodecimo  volume  :  and  yet  he  afterwards  became  a  great  reader.  De- 
mosthenes, as  most  of  our  readers  are  aware,  frequently  read,  and  with 
his  own  hand  several  times  copied,  the  writings  of  Thucydides.  And 
modern  orators  have  made  Demosthenes,  in  turn,  the  subject  of  oft  re- 


Arnold's  nepos.  10-5 

peated  and  laborious  study  5  while  the  constant  study  of  the  works  of 
an  English  Divine  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  eloquence  of 
one  of  England's  greatest  Parliamentary  orators. 

We  do  not  attempt  to  give  any  precepts  as  to  the  best  manner  of 
reading.  Many  have  found  it  profitable  to  connect  writing  with  it.  The 
celebiated  Jonathan  Edwards  is  said  to  have  read  much  with  pen  in 
hand,  making  his  annotations  on  the  author  as  he  passed  on.  Dr.  Ar- 
nold advises  to  make  abstracts  of  the  works  read.  Conversation  on  the 
subject  read,  will  greatly  aid  in  obtaining  a  clearer  view  of  them,  and 
fixing  what  is  worth  retaining  more  deeply  in  the  mind.  That  pithy 
sentence  of  Lord  Bacon  is  familiar :  "Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  con- 
versation a  ready  man,  and  writing  an  exact  man."  Reflection,  also, 
is  indispensable  :  and  the  mind  of  the  reader  ought  always  to  be  on  the 
alert,  and  rigorously  exercised.  Without  this,  one  may  read  incessant- 
ly, and  yet 

"  Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remain 

Deep  versed  in  books,  and  shallow  in  himself." 

And  that  other  oft  quoted  saying  of  Bacon  is  worthy  of  continual 
remembrance  :  "Read  not  to  contradict,  nor  to  believe,  but  to  weigh 
and  consider." 

\n  the  life  of  Lord  Bolingbroke,  we  find  the  following  anecdote  re- 
lated as  illustrative  of  the  style  of  preaching  of  his  teacher,  a  dissent- 
ing minister.  "  After  having  inveighed  in  his  sermon,  against  pernicious 
doctrines,  and  enumerated  many  kinds,  he  thus  continued  :  '  But  above 
all  other  pernicious  doctrines,  beware,  my  beloved,  of  the  thorough- 
faced  doctrine;  that  doctrine,  I  mean,  which  coming  in  atone  ear,  paces 
straight  through  the  head,  and  out  at  the  other  ear.'  "  So  would  we 
say  to  our  readers:  beware,  beloved,  especially  o(  thorough-paced  read- 
ing; that  reading,  we  mean,  which  coming  in  at  the  eye,  paces  straight 
through  the  head,  and  out,  we  know  not  where — but  certainly  makes 
no  lasting  impression  on  the  mind. 


Arnold^s  Nepos,  edited  hij  Jo/mson,  Neiv  York,  184G. 
We  improve  the  occasion  furnished  by  the  publication  of  this  work 
in  our  country,  to  exhibit  the  great  improvement  which  has  been  and 
may  be  made  in  commenting  on  the  classic  authors  intended  for  schools. 
It  is  every  way  adapted  to  awaken,  interest,  and  elevate  the  minds  of 
the  young. 

Milt.  I,  L   Miltiades  ct  antiquitatc  generis,  ei  gloria  majormn,  et  sua 
modestia  unus  omnium  maxime  fioruil.    'Miltiades  was  especiallv  of  all 
14 


106 


ARXOLn'S  NEPOS. 


distinguished  both  for  the  antiquity  of  his  family,  and  for  the  glory  of 
his  ancestors,  and  for  his  own  unassuming  behavior.' 

We  have  here  a  fine  example  of  tlie  figure  of  rhetoric  called  poly- 
syndeton^ (i.  e.  'much  connected.')  This  figure  consists  in  the  accumu- 
lation of  the  connective  particles,  so  as  to  give  a  suitable  gravity  to  the 
discourse,  by  allowing  the  mind  to  rest  on  the  addition  of  each  partic- 
ular. The  figure  asyndeton^  (i.  e. '  unconnected, ')  would  lay  a  stress  on 
the  import  of  each  particular. 

Milt.  II,  2.  JYeque  minus  in  ea  re  prudenlia,  quam  felicitate,  adjutus 
est.  '  Nor  was  he  aided  in  that  thing  more  by  good  fortune,  than  by 
liis  own  prudence. ' 

Here  we  have  an  example  of  the  zeugma,  (i.  e.  'junction.'  This  fig- 
ure is  a  grammatical  construction  in  which  one  and  the  same  word,  be- 
sides its  proper  meaning  in  one  relation,  has  also  an  improper  or  differ- 
ent meaning  in  another  relation.  This  figure,  according  to  the  latest 
and  most  exact  philologists,  is  a  species  of  breviloquence  or  brachylogy 
and  not  of  the  ellipsis,  as  it  has  been  commonly  regarded.  The  idea  or 
element  supposed  to  be  wanting  is  evolved,  although  in  different  ways, 
from  the  word  or  idea  which  is  expressed.  In  this  example,  the  generic 
idea  is  evolved  from  the  specific  as  if  it  read  thus  :  'Nor  was  he  aided 
in  that  thing  more  by  good  fortune,  than  (benefited)  by  his  own  pru- 
dence. ' 

Milt.  Ill,  4.  JS'amsi  cum  his  copiis,  qiias  secum  transportaverat,  inter- 
isset  Darius.  '  For  if  Darius  should  perish  with  these  forces,  which 
he  had  brought  over  with  him. ' 

Transportaverat^  in  the  oratio  obliqua,  is  here  in  the  indicative  in- 
stead of  the  subjunctive  mode,  because  the  historian  slips  or  passes  in 
his  own  mind  from  the  oratio  obliqua  to  the  oratio  recta.  The  differ- 
ence cannot  be  exhibited  in  English. 

Milt.  IV,  4.  Domi  autem  creant  decern  praeforcs,  qui  exercitui  prae- 
cssent,  in  eis  Miltiadem.  '  But  at  home  they  appoint  ten  generals,  to 
command  the  army  ;  among  them  Miltiades.' 

'  Creant,  '  they  appoint.'  The  present  is  here  used  for  the  historic 
past,  to  give  animation  to  the  discourse.  The  same  is  permissible  in 
English. 

Praeiores,  'generals.'  The  word  praetor  is  used  here,  not  in  its 
technico-political  sense  as  the  name  of  a  special  civil  magistrate,  but  in 
the  meaning  which  it  has  by  virtue  of  its  etymology,  as  if  prae-itor, 
one  that  goes  before,'  scil.  an  army,  i.  e.  a  general.  This  meaning  is 
retained  in  praetorium, '  a  general's  tent.' 

Praeessent.     The  imperfect  here  follows  a  present  tense,  because 


Arnold's  nepos.  107 

the  present  tense  was  used  for  the  historic  past.  Of  course  it  is  a  con- 
structio  ad  sensum. 

Qui  exercitui  praeessent.  This  clause  is  epcxegetical.  It  is  added 
merely  to  explain  praetores^  which  had  preceded. 

Milt.  V,  1.  Hoc  in  tempore  nulla  civitas  Atheniensihus  auxilio  fuit 
j)raeier  Plataeenses.  Ea  mille  7nisit  militum.  '  In  this  emergency  no 
state  was  an  aid  to  the  Athenians,  except  the  Plateeans.  That  (scil. 
state,)  sent  a  thousand  men.' 

Hoc  in  tempore.)  '  in  this  emergency,'  more  emphatic,  because  more 
full,  than  simply  hoc  teinjwre,  at  this  moment.' 

Auxilio  fuit y  '  was  an  aid.'  The  dative  here  expresses  the  modal 
relation,  for  which  otherwise  no  special  provision  has  been  made  in  La^t- 
in.     Comp.  est  mihi  honori, '  it  is  to  me  for  an  honor.' 

Ea, '  that,'  (scil.  state,)  for  ci, '  those,'  (scil.  Plat?eans,)  by  the  figure, 
called  synesis,  or  construclio  ad  sensum. 

Themist.  i,  1.  Hujus  vilia  ineuntis  adolescentiae^ '  his  faults  of  ear- 
ly youth.' 

Here  two  genitives  in  different  relations  depend  on  the  same  sub- 
stantive ;  or,  more  correctly,  the  genitive  ineuntis  adolescenliae  depends 
on  the  simple  substantive  vitia,  and  the  genitive  hujus  depends  on  the 
phrase  complex  substantive  vitia  ineuntis  adolescentiae. 

Themist.  ix,  1.  Scio,  plerosque  ita  scripsisse,  Themisloclem,  Xerxe 
regnante,  in  Asiam  transisse.  '  I  know  that  many  have  written  thus, 
that  Themistocles  in  the  reign  of  Xerxes  passed  into  Asia.' 

Ita  here  expressed  is  the  demonstrative,  to  which  the  subsequent 
clause  corresponds.     It  is  no  more  redundant  than  that  in  English. 

Pans.  I,  1.  Pausanias,  Lacedaemonius,  magnus  homo.  'Pausanias, 
the  Lacedemonian,  a  great  man.' 

Homo  is  used  here  in  a  general  sense,  and  the  emphasis  is  on  mag- 
nus. Comp.  Virum  bonum  et  magnum  hominem  pcrdidimus.  Cic.  Ho- 
mo denotes  a  man  generally,  vir  a  man  as  opposed  to  a  woman  or  child. 

Pans.  11,  2.  '  Qui  Utteras  regi  redderet.  '  That  he  might  deliver 
the  letter  to  the  king.' 

The  force  of  this  clause  is  ielic. 

Re  in  reddo  denotes  back,  not  indeed  to  the  place  whence  it  came, 
but  to  the  place  where  it  should  be,  or  to  the  person  who  has  a  claim 
to  it. 

Yale  College.  H.  D.  S. 


108 


RKMtNISCENCES  OF  STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY. 
NO.  II.       STANDCHEN. 

Among  the  peculiarities  of  the  Burschen-Leben  may  be  reckoned 
their  manner  of  testifying  regard  for  a  Professor.  The  presentation  of 
a  vote  of  thanks  for  his  valuable  services,  or  a  complimentary  letter 
would  be  quite  too  lifeless  for  them.  The  cordiality  of  the  German 
character  is  particularly  prominent  in  the  student.  It  pervades  the  whole 
University-life,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  facts  developed  in  these  remi- 
niscences, if  they  be  continued. 

As  I  was  sitting  one  evening  in  my  snug  little  room  on  the  second 
floor  of  No.  6,  Kurstrasse,  preparing  to  appreciate  the  lectures  of  the 
following  day,  by  the  careful  study  of  the  sections  of  Genesis,  Psalms, 
and  Matthew,  that  came  in  course,  Herr  Michaelis,  my  obliging  friend 
who  took  so  much  pleasure  in  showing  me  all  the  Merkwiirdigkeiten 
of  Berlin,  burst  in  upon  me  with  the  news  that  the  students  were  just 
about  bringing  a  Standchen  to  Prof.  Neander,  and  I  must  come  along  at 
once.  We  found  a  great  crowd  collected  about  the  house,  and  could 
scarcely  edge  our  way  into  the  wide  arched  entrance  that  led  from  the 
street  to  the  inner  court.  "  Come,"  said  my  friend,  "  they  will  surely 
not  take  me  for  a  Philistine  for  I  have  mounted  a  cap,"  and  with  this 
dragged  me  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  of  students.  They  had  pro- 
cured a  marble-bust  of  Neander,  and  through  a  delegation  from  their 
number  were  presenting  it  to  him,  whilst  the  whole  throng  in  the  open 
court  below  were  singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices  a  familiar  hymn. 
His  acknowledgments  were  presented  from  a  window,  and  responded 
to  by  a  Lebehoch  !  and  the  old  students'  song  Gaudeamus  igitur.  "Now 
follows  the  punch,"  says  my  friend,  as  the  whole  mass  began  to  flow  up 
the  broad  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  Professor's  residence  overhead, 
"and  the  sooner  we  get  out  of  the  way  the  better."  "Punch  ?  "  replied 
1. — "To  be  sure,"  said  I\l.,  to  whom  my  anti-drinking  principles  afford- 
ed infinite  amusement,  "  and  at  the  Professor's  expense  !  So  machen 
Sie  es  gewiss  nicht  in  America?"     "  Nein,  wahrlich  nicht!" 

Not  long  afterwards  my  friend  K.  informed  me  that  the  students, 
who  had  attended  the  lectures  of  Dr.  Strauss,  (who  is  second  Court 
Preacher  and  Professor  of  Ilomiletical  and  Pastoral  Theology)  intend- 
ed to  pay  him  a  congratulatory  visit,  and  invited  me  to  accompany  him. 
At  8  o'clock  we  assembled  in  the  inner  court  of  the  University  edifice 
and  marched  to  the  Professor's  residence.  Having  heralded  our  design 
through  a  committee,  we  were  admitted  into  the  house.  Throwing  our 
caps  and  cloaks  into  the  arms  of  servants  who  stood  at  the  foot  of  tlie 


STUbEM'-MFE  Ii\  GEIIMA.W.  109 

stairs,  we  mounted  to  the  second  story,  where  the  Doctor  lives  ;  we 
crowded  into  one  of  the  parlors  and  placed  eight  or  ten  of  the  best 
singers  around  the  centre  table,  who  sang  with  a  great  deal  of  taste  a 
favorite  German  antliem.  As  they  were  about  closing,  the  Doctor,  a 
portly  gentleman  of  forty-five,  made  his  appearance  through  the  folding 
doors  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  When  the  anthem  was  con- 
cluded, one  of  the  oldest  of  the  students  stepped  forward,  and  with  an 
exquisite  bow,  commenced  an  address  to  the  Doctor.  In  the  name  of 
his  fellow  students,  he  returned  their  warmest  thanks  to  their  revered 
professor  for  the  unceasing  pains  he  had  taken  to  cultivate  their  minds 
and  improve  their  hearts — that  he  had  been  the  means  of  making  them 
sensible  of  the  dangerous  tendency  of  the  Rationalistic  theology,  which 
has  done  so  much  to  injure  the  cause  of  the  Redeemer — that  in  all  his 
intercourse  with  them  he  had  contributed  to  promote  a  living  Christiani- 
ty— had  taken  so  deep  an  interest  in  their  personal  welfare  and  had  giv- 
en them  so  much  cause  for  gratitude,  &c.  Tiie  accompanying  present 
was  intended  as  a  trifling  testimonial  of  the  value  they  set  upon  his  ser- 
vices, &c.  (The  present  was  a  Liturgical  work,  price  100  Thaler.) 
The  Doctor  replied  with  a  great  deal  of  feeling — thanked  them  for  their 
kindness,  and  said  many  fine  things.  The  first  speaker  responded  with 
a  hearty  Jlmen  to  the  pious  wishes  of  the  Professor,  and  then  handed 
to  him  a  copy  of  the  venerable  German  hymn, 

"  AUein  Gott  in  der  Hoh'  sei  Ehr', 

Und  Dank  fiir  seine  Gnade, 
Darum,  dass  nun  und  nirainermehr 

Uns  riihren  kann  kein  Schade,  etc. 

requesting  him  to  join  with  us  in  singing  a  couple  of  verses.  And  then 
in  full  chorus  and  with  feeling,  we  united  our  hearts  and  voices  in  this 
song  of  praise  !  This  over,  the  servants  came  pushing  through  the 
crowd,  with  all  sorts  of  j-efreshments,  and  as  the  room  was  too  small, 
we  adjourned  to  a  larger  one,  vvhich  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  family 
chapel.  One  end  of  it  was  semicircular  and  tapestried  with  rich  crim- 
son hangings.  Here  we  enjoyed  ourselves  most  rationally,  and  those 
of  us  who  were  not  personally  acquainted  with  our  hospitable  host, 
were  introduced.  We  had  splendid  music,  rich  entertainment  and  in- 
structive christian  conversation.  As  we  were  leaving,  we  all  received 
an  invitation  to  tea  on  Saturday  evening.  We  assembled  at  the  good 
Dr's  again  to  the  number  of  forty-two,  and  there  I  had  a  good  oppor- 
tunity of  witnessing  an  exhibition  of  German  christian  society.  After 
tea  had  been  handed  round,  five  of  our  best  singers  mounted  the  rostrum 
and  sang  an  excellent  piece  of  music.     After  this,  one  of  the  young  men 


110  THE   SHEPHERD  BOY's  DUEAM. 

walked  up  and  delivered  a  short  off  hand  speech,  congratulating  the 
Professor  upon  his  happy  selection  of  the  evening  so  suitable  to  the 
occasion  5  it  was  the  12th  of  March,  the  day  of  St.  Gregorius,  the  pat- 
ron of  science  and  music,  Stc.  We  had  several  other  clever  speeches — 
then  tea  and  cakes  again — more  music  and  speeches — and  amid  conver- 
sation— tea — music  and  other  entertainments,  the  evening  passed  de- 
lightfully. 


THE  SHEPHERD  BOY  S  DREAM. 

BY  EEV.  R.  S.  MACLAY. 

The  dew  is  on  the  lawn. 

The  sun  is  on  the  hill, 
And  gaily  trips  the  timid  fawn, 

Along  the  mountain  rill. 
The  shepherd's  merry  note. 

Across  the  rolling  lea, 
In  sweetest  cadence  seems  to  float. 

And  echo  mirthfully. 
The  flocks  are  on  the  stream, 

Leaping  with  joyous  glee  ; 
While  soft,  the  morning's  mellow  beam. 

Gilds  vale  and  forest  tree. 
I  heard  the  voice  of  song 

Sound  from  the  leafy  bough  ; 
Faintly  its  murmurs  pass  along — 

Once  more  !     'Tis  silent  now. 
Beneath  its  spreading  arms, 

I  slumber  on  the  moss  ; 
A  fairy  strain  of  music  charms 

My  tender  heart.     I  toss. 
With  waking  strength,  the  curls 

Back  from  my  heated  brow  ; 
And  catch  the  witching  strain  tliat  whirls 

Around  the  waving  bough. 
The  sunbeams  brightly  glance, 

Along  the  fragrant  air ; 
And  airy  forms  of  spirits  dance 

Among  tlie  foliage  there. 
A  voice !  a  voice  !  a  music  strain  ! 

Comes  to  my  raptur'd  ear ! 
'Tis  past !  'tis  gone  ! — Again  !  again  ! 

That  mellow  note  I  hear. 
"  We  sing  of  the  land  of  our  fairy  home. 

With  our  spirit's  minstrelsy  ; 
Where  the  sunbeams  gild  the  restless  foam 
Of  the  deep  surrounding  sea. 


GEMS  FROM  THE   GERMAN  OF  RICHTER.  Ill 

"  'Tis  the  land  !  'tis  the  land  of  Sunny  East, 
'Neath  the  cloudless  smiles  of  Heaven; 
For  the  spirit's  home — for  the  spirit's  feast. 
To  the  gentle  fairies  given. 
In  our  wantoning, 
Witii  joyous  wing, 
We  float  in  the  balmy  air  ; 
And  gaily  sing, 
The  flowers  of  spring, 
A  song  of  welcome  there. 
Then  the  branches  clapped  their  hands, 

As  the  fairies  ceased  to  sing. 
And  a  fragrance  fresh  from  distant  lands. 

Richly  around  did  fling. 
Now  a  voice  of  mourning  rose 
From  that  lovely  Elfin  tree. 
As  though  it  labored  to  disclose  , 

A  tale  of  grief  to  me. 
Farewell  !  Farewell,  to  our  fairy  home. 

To  the  fields  in  the  soft  yielding  air 
Haste  we — oh  haste,  o'er  the  ocean  to  roam 

To  a  country  less  lovely  and  fair. 
Hark  ! — a  sound  of  the  rustling  of  wings, 

Comes  hurriedly  on  the  gale  ; 
And  away,  away,  the  timid  things 
Fly  over  the  sea  and  vale. 


GEMS  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  RICHTER. 

Herder  and  Schiller.  Both  of  them  in  their  youth  intended  to  be- 
come surgeons.  But  destiny  said :  "  No !  there  are  deeper  wounds 
than  those  of  the  body, — heal  the  deeper;  "  and  both  obeyed. 

Man  often  weeps  in  his  sleep.  When  he  awakes,  he  scarcely  knows 
that  he  has  wept.  Such  is  life.  In  the  life  to  come,  thou  wilt  no  longer 
know,  that  thou  hast  wept  in  this. 

Men  receive  contradiction  and  instruction  more  readily  than  we 
suppose,  but  if  it  be  violent,  they  will  not  endure  it,  even  though  it  be 
well  founded.  The  heart  like  a  flower  remains  open  to  the  gently  fall- 
ing dew,  but  closes  to  the  rain. 

A  small  injury  throws  us  out  of  ourselves,  a  great  one  upon  our- 
selves. A  bell  slightly  cracked  sounds  dull,  but  if  more  widely  cracked 
the  clear  sound  returns. 

Many  flowers  open  to  the  sun  ;  yet  only  one  follows  him.  Heart ! 
be  as  the  sun-flower,  not  only  open  to  thy  God,  but  continually  follow 
him. 


112 


ROBERT  FULTON. 

Some  thirty  years  since  a  young  American  was  occupied  in  the  con- 
struction of  a  few  models  of  machinery,  by  which  he  might  bend  to 
the  use  of  navigation  an  agent  familiar  to  all,  but  which  had  only  been 
pressed  into  the  service  of  mechanics  a  short  time  before  by  the  genius 
of  Watt.  Receiving  no  countenance  in  this  country,  he  visited  France, 
and  at  a  diplomatic  dinner  given  at  Paris,  by  Chancellor  Livingston,  to 
a  company  of  Plenipotentiaries,  Statesmen  and  Literati,  Fulton  wearied 
the  patience  of  the  guests  by  endeavoring  to  show  them  that  he  could, 
if  he  had  the  means  construct  a  boat  that  could  stem  the  waves  of  the 
Hudson  by  the  force  of  steam  with  the  velocity  of  four  miles  an  hour ! 
But  his  plans  were  regarded  as  idle  and  visionary,  and  repulsed  he  turned 
liis  face  to  his  native  country  ; — and  it  is  interesting  to  listen  to  his  nar- 
ration, recounting  the  opposition  he  received  from  his  own  countrymen, 
the  little  disposition  they  evinced  to  give  his  project  any  countenance. 
Says  he,  "  my  friends  were  civil,  but  shy ;  they  listened  with  patience 
to  my  explanations,  but  with  a  settled  cast  of  incredulity  on  their  coun- 
tenances— 1  felt  the  full  force  of  the  language  of  the  poet : 

"  Truth  would  you  teach,  to  save  a  sinking  land. 
All  shun,  none  aid  you,  and  few  understand." 

As  I  had  occasion  to  pass  daily  to  and  fro  from  the  building  while 
my  boat  was  in  progress,  I  have  often  listened,  unknown,  near  the  idle 
group  of  strangers,  gathering  in  little  circles,  and  heard  various  inquiries 
as  to  the  object  of  this  new  vehicle.  The  language  was  uniformly  that 
of  scorn,  sneer,  or  ridicule.  The  loud  laugh  often  rose  at  my  expense, 
the  dry  jest,  the  wise  calculation  of  losses  and  expenditures,  the  dull  and 
useless  repetition  of  the  '  Fulton  folly.''  Never  did  a  single  encourag- 
ing remark,  a  bright  hope,  or  a  warm  wish  cross  my  path.  The  day 
arrived  when  my  boat  was  finished,  and  the  experiment  was  made.  To 
me  it  was  a  most  trying  and  interesting  occasion.  I  wanted  some  friends 
to  go  on  board  to  witness  the  first  successful  trip.  Many  of  them  did 
me  the  favor  to  attend  as  a  matter  of  personal  respect;  but  it  was  mani- 
fest that  they  did  it  with  reluctance,  fearing  to  be  partners  of  my  morti- 
fication, and  not  of  my  triumph.  I  was  well  aware,  tliat,  in  my  case, 
there  were  many  reasons  to  doubt  of  my  own  success.  The  machine- 
ry was  new  and  ill-made,  and  many  parts  were  constructed  by  mechan- 
ics unacquainted  with  such  work,  and  unexpected  difficulties  might 
reasonably  be  presumed  to  present  themselves  from  other  causes.  The 
moment  arrived  in  which  tlie  word  was  to  be  given  for  the  vessel  to 
move.     My  friends  were  in  groups  on  the  deck.     There  was  anxiety 


VOYAGE   TO  THE   SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  113 

mixed  with  fear  among  them.  Tiicy  were  silent, sad, and  weary;  I  read 
in  their  looks  nothing  but  disaster,  and,  I  almost  repented  of  my  efforts, 
Tlie  signal  was  given,  and  the  boat  moved  on  a  short  distance,  and  then 
stopped  and  became  immovable.  To  the  silence  of  the  preceding  mo- 
ment now  succeeded  murmurs  of  discontent  and  agitation,  and  whispers, 
and  shrugs.  I  could  hear  distinctly  repeated :  '/  told  you  so — it  is  a 
foolish  schema. — I  ivish  ice  were  well  out  of  it?  I  elevated  myself  on  a 
platform,  and  stated  that  I  knew  not  what  was  the  matter;  but  if  they 
would  be  quiet,  and  indulge  me  for  half  an  hour,  I  would  either  go  on, 
or  abandon  the  voyage.  I  went  below  and  discovered  that  a  slight  mal- 
adjustment was  the  cause.  It  was  obviated — the  boat  went  on;  we  left 
New  York — we  passed  through  the  highlands — we  reached  Albany!  Yet 
even  then  imagination  superseded  the  force  of  fact.  //  ivas  doubled  if 
it  could  he  done  again,  or  if  it  could  be  made,  in  any  case,  of  any  great 
value.''''  Well  may  our  countryman  Willis,  exclaim  :  "  what  an  affect- 
ing picture  of  the  struggle  of  a  great  mind,  and  what  a  vivid  lesson  of 
encouragement  to  genius  is  contained  in  this  simple  narration."  His  ex- 
ample should  teach  us  the  value  of  industry,  indefatigable  patience  and 
perseverance — his  difficulties  lead  us  never  to  despair  in  any  great  en- 
terprise, but  even,  if  opposition  should  offer,  to  persevere  until  success 
crowns  our  efforts. 


SKETCHES    OP    A    VOYAGE,    AND    RESIDENCE    IN    THE    SOUTH 
SEA   ISLANDS.       NO.  II. 

On  the  2d  day  of  Jan.  1835,  we  made  several  islands  of  the  Sand- 
wich group  :  tlawaii,  Maui,  Morokai  and  Morokinne ;  and  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  5th,  came  in  sight  of  Oahu,  our  destination.  The  evening 
being  clear  and  free  fiom  haze,  and  the  moon  shining  brightly,  we  were 
enabled  to  run  until  we  dropped  our  anchor  off"  Diamond  Hill,"  a  high 
point  of  land,  within  sight,  by  day,  of  the  town  of  Honorura.  As  I 
leaned  over  the  rail  of  our  vessel,  gazing  at  the  shore  on  our  quarter, 
with  its  lofty  peaks  and  lovely  sleeping  vales,  clearly  defined  by  the 
light  of  the  full-orbed  moon,  I  thought  1  never  had  witnessed  any  thing 
so  perfectly  enchanting.  The  warm  breeze  which  came  in  gentle  puffs 
from  the  land,  seemed  to  bear  fragrance  on  its  wings,  and  to  discourse 
of  the  rich  and  sunny  climes  from  which  it  came.  The  whole  scene 
was  to  me  like  fairy-land.  I  thought  of  Capt.  Cook,  and  fancied  his 
having  been  here,  and  gazing  with  delighted  eyes  upon  the  very  pros- 
pect before  me,  little  dreaming,  that  after  all  he  had  endured,  lie  should 
here  be  sacrificed  by  the  very  people  to  whom  he  hoped  to  prove  a  ben- 
15 


il4  SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE 

efactor  and  frieiul.  The  noise  and  bustle  on  deck,  sailors  running  to 
and  fro  making  the  ship  "  snug"  for  harbor,  and  all  the  preparations  for 
an  arrival,  effectually  banished  my  meditations,  and  I  descended  to  my 
state  room,  to  sleep  away  the  tedious  hours,  till  the  morrow  should 
reveal  all  the  new  and  strange  features  of  the  land  to  which  we  had  come. 

On  the  next  morning  early,  the  pilot  boarded  us ;  our  anchor  was 
weighed,  and  we  sailed  along  within  view  of  the  beautifully  indented 
shore,  fringed  with  groves  of  tall  cocoanut-trees,  and  the  little  silvan 
cottages  of  the  natives  sprinkled  thickly  over  the  extended  plains. 

When  we  arrived  off  the  town,  the  natives  of  both  sexes  came  around 
our  ship  by  hundreds  in  their  frail  and  light  canoes,  to  have  a  peep  at 
the  strangers;  and  along  the  shore,  in  the  vicinity,  dozens  of  women, 
men  and  boys  vvere  seen  diving  into  the  sea  head-foremost,  seeking  for 
Echini,  Sea-Urchins  and  Patellce.  The  natives  of  these  islands  are  of 
a  light  copper,  or  bronze-color,  usually  tall  and  well  formed ;  and  the 
feet  and  hands  of  the  women  are  diminutive  enough  to  please  the  most 
aristocratic  lady  of  any  christian  land.  Many  of  the  latter  are  extremely 
handsome,  and  very  few  are  really  homely.  Their  dress  consists  usu- 
ally of  a  single  garment,  made  either  of  common  calico,  or  the  native 
cloth  called  Tapa,  which  they  manufacture  from  the  bark  of  a  species 
of  Moms.  The  dresses  of  the  women  vary  considerably  according 
to  their  rank.  The  chiefs  are  clad  in  rich  silks  and  satins,  made  in  the 
European  style,  and  do  not,  like  the  common  people,  confine  themselves 
to  a  single  garment :  but  among  all  the  inferior  classes,  even  those 
who  are  married  to  the  white  residents,  the  simple  frock  of  calico  of 
tapa  constitutes,  usually,  the  entire  dress.  This  garment  is  as  simple  as 
it  is  possible  to  make  it,  its  sole  fastening  consisting  of  a  drawing-string 
around  the  neck.  It  is  not  bound  at  the  waist,  but  suffered  to  hang 
loosely  from  the  shoulders.  Many  of  the  women,  particularly  when 
walking  or  riding,  wear  an  additional  garment,  which  they  caW  a  pmi. 
This  is  a  long  narrow  piece  of  calico  or  tapa  of  six  or  eight  yards  in, 
length,  and  is  wrapped  tightly  around  the  hips.  Shoes,  or  stockings, 
except  among  the  females  of  rank,  are  not  worn. 

It  is  impossible,  I  think,  to  reside  for  any  length  of  time  among 
these  islanders  without  becoming  deeply  interested  in  them.  Their  man- 
ners are  very  mild  and  agreeable,  and  their  hospitality  cannot  be  ex- 
ceeded even  by  the  North  American  Indians,  who  are  celebrated  for  this 
virtue,  wherever  they  are  known.  In  the  island  of  Oahu,  where  the 
King  holds  his  Court,  and  where  most  of  the  foreign  merchants  reside, 
the  natives  are  sophisticated  by  intercourse  with  sailors,  and  others  of 
the  lowest  class  of  while  people.     They  are  not,  therefore,  fair  speci- 


TO  THE   SOUTH  SEA  ISLA-"?r»S.  115 

mens  of  their  race ;  but  on  the  islands  where  few  white  men  reside,  and 
these  composed  ahnost  exclusively  of  missionaries,  the  natives  are 
simple,  gentle  and  virtuous.  I  have  never  been  more  kindly  or  hospita- 
bly treated  than  in  the  houses  of  these  primitive  people  residing  on  is- 
lands possessing  but  little  to  tempt  foreigners  to  form  settlements.  They 
have  always  been  ready  to  aid  me  in  collecting  birds,  shells,  kc.  in 
many  cases,  not  even  expecting  remuneration  for  their  trouble. 

They  are  most  valuable  adjuncts  to  the  naturalist  and  collector.  Be- 
mg  so  truly  amphibious  in  their  habits,  they  serve  the  conchologist  ad- 
mirably in  place  of  a  dredge;  diving  into  the  sea,  among  the  rocks, and 
searching  the  bottom  for  shells  with  wonderful  pertinacity  and  success. 
They  are  also  very  successful  bird-catchers.  In  the  island  of  Oahu 
they  procure  the  gum  of  a  tree  which  they  call  "  Tu-iM?',"  and  make  of 
it  a  tenacious  paste  by  moistening  it  with  water.  They  smear  little 
sticks  with  this  paste  and  plunge  ihcm  into  the  large  pods  of  the  bana- 
na, which  contain  a  sweet  juice  of  which  the  bird  is  extremely  fond. 
The  bird  alights  upon  the  gummed  stick,  and  his  feet  are  in  an  instant  so 
firmly  glued  to  it,  that  he  cannot  escape.  By  this  mode,  dozens  of 
beautiful  birds  were  brought  to  me  almost  daily,  all  alive  and  uninjured. 
The  boys  of  the  Island  of  Kauai  pursue  a  different,  and  even  more  in- 
genious plan  to  effect  the  same  object.  They  lay  themselves  flat  upon 
their  backs  on  the  ground,  and  cover  their  whole  bodies  with  bushes, 
and  the  campanulate  flowers  of  which  the  birds  are  in  search.  One  of 
these  flowers  is  then  held  by  the  lower  portion  of  the  tube  between  the 
finger  and  thumb ;  the  little  bird  inserts  his  long,  curved  bill  to  the  base 
of  the  flower,  when  it  is  immediately  seized  by  the  fingers  of  the  boy, 
and  the  little  flutterer  disappears  beneath  the  mass  of  bushes. 

I  have  mentioned  that  the  natives  of  these  islands  were  generally 
well  formed  and  graceful  in  their  persons.  This  observation  applies 
only  to  the  common  people,  who  use  athletic  exercise,  and  do  not  yield 
to  the  enervating  influence  of  the  climate.  The  Chiefs  are,  almost  with- 
out an  exception,  enormously  fat :  women  as  well  as  men  often  weigh- 
ing from  350  to  400  pounds.  Indeed  obesity  is  considered  by  them 
one  of  the  greatest  beauties ;  but  it  belongs,  by  immemorial  custom,  ex- 
clusively to  those  of  high  rank.  If  a  plebeian  individual  should  unfor- 
tunately, by  indolence  or  excessive  eating,  become  very  fat,  it  is  his  du- 
ty to  commence  the  process  of  reduction  without  loss  of  time;  and  if 
he  should  fail  in  his  efforts,  he  finds  it  safest  to  pack  up  bag  and  bag- 
gage and  retire  to  some  other  island  where  the  eyes  of  royalty  may  not 
be  pained  by  gazing  on  the  counterfeit.  The  food  of  the  islanders  con- 
sists, principally,  of  an  article  called  Foe,  which  is  made  by  beating  the 


116  SKETCHES  OT  A  VOYAGE 

baked  roots  of  the  Taro  (Jirum  esculenium^)  or  a  sort  of  wooden 
trencher,  with  a  large  oval  stone.  The  mass  so  prepared  is  mixed  with 
a  small  quantity  of  water,  and  set  aside  for  several  days  to  ferment,  when 
it  becomes  sour,  and  is  about  the  consistence  of  paper-hanger's  paste. 
This,  with  fish,  either  raw  or  baked,  constitutes  almost  the  sole  food  of 
the  common  people.  Give  a  Sandwich  Islander  plenty  of  poe,  with  a 
raw  fish  or  two  at  each  meal,  and  he  asks  for  nothing  more  ;  deprive 
him  of  his  dear  loved  sour  paste,  and  he  loses  his  spirits,  and  is  miser- 
able. The  manner  in  which  he  takes  his  food  is  primitive  enough.  He 
seats  himself  cross-legged  upon  the  ground,  with  his  calabash  before 
him,  and  a  fish,  and  a  little  pile  of  salt  on  a  wooden  dish  by  his  side. 
His  first  two  fingers  are  inserted  into  the  paste,  and  stirred  round  sever- 
al times  until  enough  adheres  to  coat  them  thickly,  when  they  are  car- 
ried by  a  quick  motion  to  the  mouth,  which  is  open  to  receive  them, 
and  are  sucked  clean  :  a  little  pinch,  with  the  fingers  is  then  taken  of 
the  fish  which  is  perhaps  floundering  beside  him,  followed  by  a  similar 
pinch  of  salt,  to  season  the  whole  repast.  This  sort  of  feeding  may 
seem  to  most  of  your  readers,  as  fit  only  for  savages,  but  1  can  assure 
them,  I  have  made  many  a  hearty  meal  from  similar  dishes,  and  found 
the  fish  (when  I  had  succeeded  in  ridding  myself  of  the  idea  of  raw- 
liess,)  very  palatable. 

[n  order  to  favor  the  natural  inclination  to  obesity,  the  Chiefs  use,  in 
general,  but  little  exercise,  and  eat  enormously  of  the  nutritious  food  be- 
fore mentioned.  They  usually  occupy  about  an  hour  at  each  meal,  and  at 
intervals  of  some  15  minutes,  the  eating  ceases,  and  an  attendant  ap- 
proaches to  perform  the  "  rMnu-?'Mmi  ". — This  is  the  regular  Z:neadmo' 
process,  recommended,  some  few  years' since,  with  such  good  effect,  in 
cases  of  dyspepsia,  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Halstead.  After  this  opera- 
tion has  been  performed,  the  patient  resumes  his  task  with  renewed  gusto, 
and  it  is  astonishing  what  vast  quantities  of  poe  a  fat  native  will  imbibe 
in  the  course  of  an  hour's  eating.  Even  the  King,  and  the  Royal  fam- 
ily, although  they  dine  sumptuouly  every  day,  can  never  be  content 
to  finish  a  meal  williout  a  dessert  of  poe.  When  strangers  are  present, 
their  Majesties  take  their  paste  delicately  with  a  spoon,  but  when  alone, 
and  under  no  restraint,  they  dip  their  royal  fingers  into  the  dish  secun- 
dum artem.  The  King,  KauikeuoulU  or  Tamehamelia  HI,  as  he  is  now 
most  frequently  called,  was,  at  the  time  of  ray  visit,  only  about  20  years 
of  age ;  stout,  active,  and  remarkably  well  formed,  but  evidently  inclin- 
ing, like  all  the  chiefs,  to  unwieldy  fatness.  When  I  first  paid  my  re- 
spects to  him,  he  was  sitting  in  his  ojfice^  a  small  house  which  he  occu- 
pied as  a  place  for  the  transaction  of  business,     lie  was  reclining  at  his 


TO  THE   SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS.  117 

ease,  clothed  in  a  pair  of  common  Duck-pantaloons,  and  white  jacket. 
He  received  me  very  kindly  ;  oftered  me  a  good  Havanna  segar,  and  in- 
vited me  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  him.  On  the  whole,  1  was  very 
much  gratified  with  my  visit.  Subsequently  I  became  quite  intimate 
■with  his  Majesty ;  visited  him  frequently,  and  was  admitted  into  the 
royal  household  as  a  friend.  The  King's  palace  is  a  large  edifice,  per- 
haps 100  feet  by  60,  standing  in  a  great  square,  enclosed  by  a  neat  pali- 
sade fence,  but  without  garden  or  any  sort  of  decoration.  The  house 
is  built  in  the  native  style,  covered  entirely  with  a  heavy  thatch  of  grass, 
which  gives  it  the  appearance,  at  a  distance,  of  a  large  hay  slack.  It 
consists  of  but  one  room.  The  interior  is  beautifully  carpeted  with 
very  fine  matting,  and  large  divans,  composed  of  piles  of  matting,  are 
numerous  throughout  the  building.  There  is  no  furniture,  and  the  on- 
ly ornaments  it  contains,  are  several  portraits,  very  well  executed,  re- 
presenting old  King  Tamehameha,  his  son  Kihoriho  and  their  queens. 
During  one  of  my  earlier  visits  at  the  palace,  his  Majesty  did  me 
the  honor  to  invite  me  to  participate  in  a  Ju  au,  or  picknic  in  the  lovely 
valley  of  Nuano,  back  of  the  town.  This  lu  au  was  got  up  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  number  of  the  foreign  residents  ;  his  Majesty  and  suite  were 
of  course  invited,  as  1  was  also  by  them,  on  the  day  following.  This 
the  King  doubtless  knew  would  be  the  case,  but  desired  to  show  his 
kindness  and  condescension  by  being  the  first  to  bid  me  to  the  feast. 
On  the  following  morning,  (Saturday,)  a  cavalcade,  consisting  of  fifty  or 
sixty  persons,  among  whom  was  the  King,  and  a  suite  composed  of 
eiglit  or  ten  of  his  prime  favorites,  assembled  in  front  of  the  palace,  and 
at  a  signal  fi-om  his  Majesty,  we  put  our  horses  to  the  gallop,  and  went 
dashing  at  a  tearing  rate  through  the  town,  the  King  taking  the  lead  on 
a  splendid  grey  charger  which  he  controlled  with  infinite  ease  and  grace. 
We  never  drew  rein  until  we  had  ridden  five  miles  up  the  valley  of  Nu- 
ano,  when  a  halt  was  called.  We  all  discounted  on  a  beautiful  circu- 
lar plain,  surrounded  by  Pandanus  and  Kou  trees  (Corclia  sehestena,) 
and  having  a  beautiful  cascade  of  clear,  cold  mountain  water  in  the  midst. 
We  found  here  about  fifty  natives  who  had  been  ordered  to  the  spot  ear- 
ly in  the  morning  to  groom  our  horses,  prepare  our  repast,  8cc.  Most 
of  the  party  remained  at  the  plain,  but,  as  it  yet  wanted  several  hours 
to  dinner  time,  I  concluded  to  visit,  with  a  party  of  foreigners,  the  great 
precipice,  or  Pari,  three  miles  above.  We  accordingly  renrounted,  and 
soon  commenced  the  ascent  towards  the  precipice.  For  the  last  two 
miles  the  climbing  was  toilsome  and  not  a  little  dangerous.  The  soil 
was  a  sort  of  unctuous  clay,  rendei-ed  exceedingly  slippery  by  recent 
rains,  and  large  volcanic  rocks  were  piled  in  the  narrow  bridle  paths  to 


118  SKETCHES  or  a  vovage 

a  most  inconvenient  degree.  We  arrived  at  length  however,  to  within  a 
few  hundred  yards  of  the  Pari,  where  we  left  our  horses  in  charge  of 
several  native  boys,  and  proceeded  on  foot  to  the  precipice.  Tlie  wind 
Avas  blowing  a  gale,  so  that  it  became  necessary  to  remove  our  hats  and 
bind  handkerchiefs  around  our  heads,  and  when  we  stood  upon  the 
cliff,  some  care  was  required  to  keep  our  footing,  and  to  brace  ourselves 
against  the  furious  blast  wliich  was  eddying  around  the  summit.  The 
Pari  is  an  almost  perpendicular  precipice  of  about  six  hundred  feet, 
composed  of  basaltic  rock,  with  occasional  strata  of  hard  white  clay. 
On  the  north  is  seen  the  fertile  and  beautiful  valley  of  Kolau,  with  its 
neat  little  cottages,  taro-patches,  and  fields  of  sugar-cane,  spread  out  be- 
fore you  like  a  picture ;  and  beyond,  is  the  indented  shore  with  its  high 
and  pointed  cliffs,  margining  the  ocean  as  far  as  the  eye  can  discern. 
Down  this  precipice,  on  the  north-side,  is  a  sort  of  rude  path,  which 
the  natives  have  constructed,  and  up  this  we  saw  a  number  of  them  toil- 
ing, clinging  with  their  liands  to  the  jutting  crags  above,  to  raise  and 
support  their  bodies  in  the  ascent.  As  they  approached  nearer  to  us, 
I  was  surprised  to  perceive  that  every  man  bore  a  burthen  on  his  shoul- 
der 5  some  had  large  calabashes  of  poe,  suspended  one  on  each  end  of 
a  long  pole ;  and  others  carried  living  pigs  similarly  suspended,  by  hav- 
ing their  feet  tied  together,  and  the  pole  passed  between  them.  The 
porkers,  although  hanging  back  downwards,  in  a  position  certainly  not 
the  most  comfortable,  did  not  complain  of  the  treatment,  until  they  were 
deposited  on  the  summit,  when  they  tuned  their  pipes  to  a  lusty  squeal, 
and  made  amends  for  their  former  silence. 

Tliis  spot  is  the  scene  of  the  last  great  battle  of  King  Tamchameha, 
by  which  he  acquired  the  sole  and  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  whole 
Sandwich  group.  The  routed  army  of  the  petty  island  King  was  driv- 
en to  take  refuge  among  the  wild  crags  of  the  Pari,  and  hither  it  was 
followed  by  the  conquering  forces  of  the  invader.  No  quarter  was 
shown.  Tlie  fugitives  were  hunted  like  savage  beasts,  and,  almost  to  a 
man,  were  hurled  from  the  giddy  height,  and  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
frightful  rocks  below. 

On  returning  to  the  plain,  we  found  the  preparations  for  dinner  go- 
ing bravely  on,  and,  as  the  mountain  riding  and  bracing  air  had  given 
us  an  appetite,  we  cared  not  how  soon  it  was  dished  up.  In  our  absence, 
the  natives  had  constructed  a  beautiful  cottage,  composed  of  interlaced 
branches  of  trees,  covered  with  the  broad  green  leaves  of  the  *Ti  and 

*  This  is  a  shrub  about  five  feet  in  height.  It  has  a  broad,  lanceolate  leaf  a- 
bout  three  feet  in  length,  and  eight  inches  in  breadth  at  the  base,  of  a  rich  dark 
green  color,  and  polished  surface.  It  has  a  long,  thick  root,  from  which  the  na- 
tives make  a  sweet,  into.xicating  drink,  which  they  call  Ava. 


TO  THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  119 

Pandanus.  The  floor  of  this  cottage  was  covered  with  //-leaves  arrang- 
ed tastefully  in  circles,  which  was  to  serve  as  our  table-cloth.  Near  us 
the  native  cooks  were  as  busy  as  bees,  preparing  our  repast.  Every 
thing  was  cooked  in  the  native  style,  in  pits  dug  in  the  ground,  into 
which  heated  stones  had  been  placed.  The  viands  consisted  of  fait  pigs 
and  fat  dogs,  turkies,  chickens,  ham  and  fish,  with  vegetables  of  various 
kinds,  taro,  sweet-potatoes,  yams,  bread-fruit,  Slc.  Each  pig  and  dog 
had  a  large  hot  stone  sewed  up  within  him,  around  which  had  been 
wrapped  a  quantity  of  /i-leaves,  which  were  eaten  as  greens,  and  were 
excellent.  The  whole  of  the  cookery  was  in  fact  very  superior,  and 
would  have  delighted  the  most  fastidious  epicure  in  Christendom.  We 
had  also  various  liquors  ;  Champagne,  Sherry,  Madeira  and  Mountain- 
Dew,  and  were  waited  upon  by  men  and  boys,  with  chaplets  of  green 
bound  around  their  heads,  and  their  persons  profusely  ornamented  with 
the  "  ferns  and  heather  of  their  native  vallies." 

When  the  meats  were  removed,  wine  usurped  the  board  ;  toasts  were 
drunk,  and  songs  were  sung,  and  all  was  hUarity  and  cheerfulness. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  dog  forming  one  of  the  dainty  dishes  of  our 
lu  au  dinner.  The  very  idea  of  eating  a  dog  will,  no  doubt,  shock  the 
delicate  nerves  of  many  of  your  readers,  but  I  can  assure  them,  that,  when 
properly  prepared,  it  is  delicious  food.  The  animals,  which  the  Island- 
ers select  for  the  table,  are  confined,  like  swine,  in  pens  for  some  months 
before  they  are  slaughtered,  during  which  time  their  sole  food  consists 
of  poe.  They  eat  this  greedily,  and  in  a  short  time  become  exccssibly 
fat.  They  are  then  tender  and  juicy,  and  to  my  taste,  very  superior  to 
a  roasted  pig.  I  should  however  prefer  having  them  decapitated  before 
they  are  served  up,  which  would  take  from  them  at  least  a  portion  of 
their  canine  appearance.  This  the  natives  never  do.  They  scorch  or 
scald  the  hair  off  the  animal,  and  cook  it  in  the  skin  like  a  young  pig. 
The  dog  is  never  bled,  but  their  manner  of  killing  it  is  barbarous  in  the 
highest  degree.  This  is  effected  by  tying  a  strong  cord  tightly  around 
the  muzzle  of  the  poor  animal,  which  suffocates  it,  and  it  dies  in  strong 
convulsions.  A  few  days  after  my  arrival  in  Oahu,  while  strolling  alone 
through  the  town  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  King's  palace,  I  saw  a 
large  fat  dog  lying  on  the  ground  in  convulsions,  with  a  cord  drawn 
tightly  around  his  nose.  Supposing  that  some  cruel  boys  had  been  guil- 
ty«of  this  barbarous  wantonness,  and  perceiving  that  the  poor  animal  had 
no  chance  of  surviving  if  the  cord  were  loosened,  as  an  act  of  mercy  I 
seized  a  large  stone  lying  near,  and  crushed  its  skull.  In  an  instant  a 
dozen  natives  of  both  sexes  were  down  upon  me,  vociferating  furi- 
ously all  together,  and  seemed  very  well  disposed  to  make  a  hostile  at- 


120  COLLEGE  RECORD. 

tack  upon  me.  I  could  not  comprehend  a  word  they  said,  and  it  seem- 
ed likely  that  I  was  about  to  be  involved  in  an  awkward  scrape,  when 
a  foreigner,  to  whom  J  had  been  introduced  on  my  landing,  fortunately 
happening  to  pass,  appeased  the  eniaged  islanders  by  explaining  to  them 
that  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ignorant  of  the  customs  of  the  country.  I 
learned  from  him  who  had  proved  himself  my  friend  in  need,  that  this 
was  the  mode  universally  employed  for  slaughtering  the  edible  dog,  and 
moreover,  that  tlie  animal  which  I  had  so  disfigured,  had  been  fattened 
expressly  for  the  King,  and  was  to  have  graced  his  table  on  that  day. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say,  that  thereafter  I  was  careful  not  to  med- 
dle with  what  did  not  concern  me. 

Towards  evening  the  whole  of  the  lu  au  party  mounted  their  hor- 
ses, and  galloped  down  the  valley  into  the  town.  As  we  entered  the 
precincts  we  formed  ourselves  into  a  battalion,  and  reined  in  our  horses 
to  a  dignified  trot,  in  order  to  pass  a  troop  of  gay  native  ladies,  who 
were  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  western  part  of  the  Island.  At  the 
head  of  this  equestrian  cavalcade,  I  was  surprised  to  observe  the  large 
person  of  Madam  Kinau,  (the  sister  of  the  King,  and  Queen  Regent  du- 
ring his  minority  ;  a  young  lady  weighing  about  350  lbs.,)  sitting  astride 
upon  a  noble  steed,  which  evidently  made  an  effort  to  curvet  and  ap- 
pear proud  of  its  queenly  burthen.  J.  K.  T. 

Philadelphia,  Feb.  17ih,  lSi7. 


College  Record. — During-  the  last  month  the  Anniversaries  of  the  Literary 
Societies  of  Pennsylvania  Colh^j^e  were  celebrated  in  Christ's  Church,  the  one  on 
the  4th,  and  the  other  on  the  22d.  The  exercises  on  both  occasions  were  of  a  very 
interestinsj  character.  The  etfbrts  of  the  yonnj^  e:entlemen  were  highly  creditable 
to  themselves,  and  reflected  honor  upon  the  Institution.  The  respectful  attention 
manifested,  during  the  delivery  of  the  orations,  by  the  large  audiences  assembled 
is  the  best  evidence  that  they  were  interested  and  delighted. 

Order  of  Exercises  of  the  PhiIo7naihcsan  Society  : 
Prayer  by  Professor  Jacobs.  Orations— '  =  Moral  SnhVm\Hy"-G.C.Mavnd,* 
Baltimore,  Md."     "The  First  Man"— .4.  Essick,  Franklin  County,  Pa.     "Misguid- 
ed Genius" — r.  A.   Brathhawe,   Lexington,   N.  C.      "Joan  of  Arc" — /.  K.  Plitt, 
Philadelphia,  Pa.     Benediction— By  Rev.  Dr.  Krauth. 

Order  of  Exercises  of  the  Phrenakosniian  Society  : 
Prayer  by  Professor  Stoever.  Orations — "Noble  Deeds" — S.  L.  Har- 
key,  Hiilsboro",  111.  "The  Persecuted  Learned"— E.  McP/ierson,  Gettysburg,  Pa. 
"T?he  Wrongs  of  Ireland" — D.  J.  Ei/ler,  Franklin  County,  Pa.  "Progress  of  Hu- 
man Rights" — W.  H.  Wilheroiu,  GeUyshuTg.  Benediction— By  Rev.  Dr.  Krauth. 
The  intervals  between  the  different  performances  were  enlivened  with  t^ie 
sweetest  strains  of  music  by  the  Haydn  Association,  to  whom  we  cannot  feel  too 
deeply  grateful  for  the  additional  entertainment  they  always  furnish  on  these  anni- 
versary occasions. 

*  We  regretted  the  absence  of  our  young  friend  as  we  are  certain  lie  would  have  done  well 
and  shown  himself  a  wortliy  representative  of  the  Society  which  had  lionored  him  with  its  confi- 
dence. 


pmuBjjtoauia  (Sollcgc,  ©ettijsburg,  |)a. 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 

C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D. — President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rel.,  Ethics,  Sfc. 

Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 

Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechanical  Philos. 
<  Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Blental  Philosophy  ahd  Logic. 
^  M.  L.  Stoever,  a.  M. — Prof  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 
i  Rev.  Chas.  a.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Literature. 
\  Herman  Haupt,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Drawing  and  French, 
i  David  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  Anatomy  and  Physiology. 
^  John  G.  Morris,  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 
\  Abraham  Essick. — Tutor. 
^  John  K.  Plitt. — Tutor. 

\  Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  fifteen  years.  Dur- 
\  ing  this  time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
\  lions  of  its  friends.  The  course  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  \ 
of  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- ; 
struction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition  | 
to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics  and  Classical  Literature.  The  College  Course  1 
is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country.  j 

The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  tol 
require.     They  attend  three  recitations  a  day.  Church  and  Bible  Class  on  th  Sab- 1 
bath,  and  are   visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  danger  of  > 
any  great  irregularities.    They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice, 
special  cases  excepted.  j 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter  | 
session,  $6.3  62?,:  for  the  summer  session,  .^43  12^.     Washing,  .#10  00;  and  Wood, 
$?,  00.    Total  expense,  $119  75.    Boarding  can  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  25  per  : 
week.  ': 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of  J 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance.  > 


Receipts  during  February. 


Rev.  J.  C.  Hope,  Lexington,  S. 

C. 

$2  00  Vol 

.  1&,2 

W.  E.  Barber.  Esq.  Westchester 

,  Pa. 

1  00     : 

3 

Rev.  J.  Few  Smith,  Winchester 

Va. 

1  00     : 

3 

Rev.  W.  Heilig,  Mount  Joy,  Pa. 

2  00     : 

2&C 

< 

Prof.  Chas.  .Jucksch,  Columbus, 

0. 

1  00     : 

3 

< 

Rev.  J.  R.  Keiser,  New  Germantown, 

N.  J.  1  00     : 

3 

\ 

Rev.  Dr.  Krauth,    Gettysburg, 

1  00     : 

3 

Rev.  B.  Keller. 

1  00     : 

3 

Dr.  F.  E.  Vandersloot,   - 

3  00     : 

1,  2&3 

D.  Middlecoff, 

2  00     : 

1  &3 

R.  W.  M'Sherry, 

3  00     : 

1,  2&3 

D.  Kendlehart, 

2  00     : 

1  &2 

.Jacob  Kuhn, 

2  00     : 

1  &,2 

D.  Ziegler, 

1  00     : 

2 

A,  B.  Kurtz, 

2  00     : 

2&.3 

J.  B.  M'Pherson, 

2  00     : 

2  8i3 

Jas.  A.  Thompson, 

2  00     : 

2&.3 

F.  M.  Schreiner, 

1  00     : 

3 

H.  J.  Fahnestock, 

1  00     : 

3 

J.  F.  FBhnestock, 

1   00     : 

3 

Jno.  Fahnestock, 

1  00     : 

3 

Henry  Reck, 

1  00     : 

3 

L.  P.  Firey, 

1  00     : 

3 

John  A.  Lynch, 

1  00     : 

3 

\ 

/nn^ 


VOLUME  III.] 


Fnumber  6. 


THE 


LITERARY   RECORD  AND  JOURKAL 

APRIL,   ]847. 


CONDUCTED 

Bj>  a  (Committee  oC  the  ^ssoctatfoit. 


CONTENTS. 


SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE,  AND  RESIDENCE  IN  THE 

SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS,  -  -  -  -  -  121 
LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL,  -  _  -  126 
ON  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  LATENT  OR  INSENSIBLE  CALORIC,  129 
ON  THE  PROBABLE  EXISTENCE  OF  UNDISCOVERED  PLANETS, 131 

133 
138 


THE  AGE  0%  PERICLES, 
THE   TWiN  CONVERSIONS, 
EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS, 
LINN^AN  OPERATIONS, 
PENN.  MED.  COLLEGE, 
A  LITERARY  FRAGMENT,     - 


139 
141 
143 
144 


\\   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2|  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 


OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OP  PENNSYLA'ANIA  COLLEGE, 

Vol.  U\.  '     APRIL,  1847.  No.  6. 

SKETCHES    OF    A    VOYAGE,    A^'D    RESIDENCE    IN    THE    SOUTH 
SEA   ISLANDS.       NO.  III. 

Early  in  February,  my  travelling  Companion,  Mr.  N.,  and  myself, 
visited  the  Island  of  Kauai,  or  Jllooi,  as  it  is  named  on  the  old  maps. 
This  is  one  of  the  leeward  islands,  and  is  at  the  distance  of  about  one 
day's  sail  from  Oahu. 

The  Brig  "Avon,"  owned  by  my  excellent  friend  Jno.  Coffin  Jones, 
Esq.,  the  American  Consul,  was  sent  to  this  island  for  a  load  of  goats, 
and  we  were  kindly  offered  a  passage  in  her.  On  Kauai  but  two  white 
families  reside,  these  being  missionaries.  There  s  no  town  on  the  Isl- 
and, properly  so  called ;  but  it  is  sprinkled  all  over  with  little  native 
villages,  which  present  a  very  picturesque  appearance.  Our  object,  in 
leading  Oahu,  was  to  spend  about  five  days  here,  and  return,  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  in  the  same  vessel,  which  was  to  make  a  second  trip.  We 
took  possession,  on  our  arrival,  of  a  large  native  house  near  the  beach, 
furnished  us  by  Capt.  Hinckley,  the  commander  of  the  brig,  who  also 
left  with  us  a  native  man  as  cook  and  valet  de  Chamhre.  On  the  same 
evening  the  Avon  sailed  on  her  return  trip,  and  the  next  morning,  to  our 
surprise,  we  were  called  upon  by  the  King,  and  two  of  his  favorites. 
His  Majesty  had  come  several  days  jjreviously,  and  informed  us  that  he 
intended  remaining  another  week.  He,  and  his  companions  were  on 
horseback ;  they  were  sitting  on  large  Mexican  saddles,  having  heavy 
wooden  stirrups,  and  each  horseman  carried  a  long  lasso,  or  noosed 
leathern  cord,  hung  to  his  saddle-bow.  The  King  informed  us  that  one 
of  his  objects  in  visiting  the  Island,  was  to  enjoy  the  sport  of  hunting 
wild  cattle,  which  abound  on  the  hills,  and  in  the  forests  here,_  and 
that  they  had  mounted  their  horses  for  a  hunt,  when  he  heard  of  our 
arrival,  and  had  lost  no  time  in  calling  to  pay  his  respects.  This  we 
thought  very  kind,  and  quite  respectful  considering  that  he  was  a  king. 
IG 


122  SKETCHES  OF  A  VOYAGE 

On  leaving  us,  which  he  did  in  a  few  minutes,  heiemarked  that  we  were 
not  well  attended,  and  left  with  us  one  of  his  own  body  servants,  say- 
ing, that  in  the  afternoon  he  would  order  some  provisions  to  be  sent  to  us. 

We  were  soon  after  called  upon  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gulick,  the  mis- 
sionary, who  insisted  upon  our  leaving  the  poor  tenement,  which  had 
been  provided  for  us,  and  making  his  house  our  home  during  our  stay. 
This  at  length  we  consented  to  do,  stipulating  for  a  native  house  in  the 
vicinity  of  his  dwelling,  as  a  sanctum  sanctorum^  in  which  to  prepare 
and  deposit  our  collections,  &c. 

In  the  afternoon  a  native  called  at  our  cottage  with  a  hand-cart  filled 
with  provisions  of  various  kinds  ; — the  present  which  the  King  had 
promised  us.  There  was  a  very  large  hog,  three  pigs,  three  or  four  tur- 
kies,  and  several  pairs  of  chickens,  all  living,  with  vegetables  in  great 
abundance,  taro,  sweet-potatoes,  melons,  &c.  The  man  informed  us, 
in  broken  English,  that  the  King  had  sent  them  to  the  '■^kauris''''  (for- 
eigners,) who  had  just  arrived,  and  directed  him  to  say,  that  in  three  days 
he  would  send  us  as  much  more.  His  Majesty  must  have  thought  the 
"hauris"  huge  gastronomists,  but,  as  we  had  determined  to  accept  the 
invitation  of  the  good  missionary,  we  concluded  to  countermand  the  or- 
der for  continued  supplies. 

We  spent  our  time  very  agreeably  at  this  island  in  collecting  the  va- 
rious and  beautiful  objects  of  Natural  history  which  abounded  on  it, 
and  we  were  most  hospitably  and  kindly  entertained  by  the  lovely  fam- 
ily of  the  excellent  missionary.  After  we  had  been  here  about  four 
days,  however,  a  heavy  S.  W.  wind  sprung  up,  blowing  steadily  towards 
Oahu,  in  consequence  of  which  the  Avon  could  not  leave  her  anchor- 
age, and  we  were  compelled  to  remain  where  we  were.  Under  some 
other  circumstances  this  detention  would  not  have  been  irksome ;  but 
we  had  made  provision  for  only  a  few  days'  residence,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  all  our  ammunition,  poison  for  preserving  specimens,  &.c. 
were  exhausted,  and  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  even  substitutes  for  these 
indispensable  articles  at  this  place=  So  we  had  nothing  for  it,  but  to 
yield  to  our  fate  with  what  grace  we  could,  and  spend  the  remainder  of 
our  forced  sojourn  in  collecting  plants,  shells,  and  such  other  matters 
as  the  ''•  moth  and  rust  would  not  corrupt." 

Instead  of  five  dcujs^  we  remained  five  iceeks  on  this  island ;  and, 
barring  the  impossibility  of  preparing  birds  (my  favorite  avocation.)  we 
were  very  happy.  Our  treatment  in  the  house  of  the  good  missionary 
was  uniformly  kind  and  cordial,  and  when  I  bade  adieu — probably  for- 
ever— to  him  and  his  excellent  and  interesting  family,  my  heart  swelled 
with  emotions  of  gratitude  and  affection,  which  I  could  not,  and  did  not 


TO  THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  123 

attempt  to  express.  Since  my  return  home  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
receiving  several  very  interesting  and  affectionate  letters  from  this  good 
man,  and  have  endeavored,  in  my  replies,  to  express  at  least  a  portion 
of  my  gratification  in  being  thus  remembered,  and  to  assure  him  of  my 
deep  thankfulness  for  his  uniform  and  unwearied  kindness  to  the  stran- 
ger. The  King,  Kaicikeaoult,  was  of  course,  in  the  same  predicament 
as  ourselves,  unable  to  return  to  Oahu.  Several  vessels  had  sailed  ex- 
pressly for  him,  but  were  compelled  to  put  back  after  making  the  at- 
tempt. His  Majesty  soon  became  weary  of  hunting  the  wild  cattle,  and 
after  the  expiration  of  a  week,  would  gladly  have  returned  to  his  own 
liome^  as  he  affectionately  styled  it;  but  like  his  royal  brother,  Canute, 
the  winds  and  the  waves  refused  obedience  to  his  behests,  and,  King  as 
he  was,  he  was  compelled  to  bide  his  time.  He  was  observed  soon  to 
become  impatient  and  exceedingly  fretful,  snapping,  like  an  ill-tempered 
cur,  at  all  who  approached  him  ;  and  after  the  expiration  of  three  or 
four  weeks,  although  his  peoples  strove,  in  every  way,  to  amuse  him,  he 
became  so  petulant  and  irascible,  that  his  be^  friends  and  favorites  fear- 
ed to  approach  him.  Like  all  uncultivated  people,  reverses  fretted  and 
soured  him.  He  was  unused  to  have  his  slightest  wishes  thwarted,  and 
he  frequently  gave  way  to  bursts  of  ungovernable  and  foolish  passion, 
which  usually  terminated  in  a  fit  of  childish  sobbing  and  weeping. 
Thus  did  he  conduct  himself  until  the  gale  abated  and  one  of  his  ships 
arrived  and  took  him  and  his  followers  away.  His  joy  was  then  as  ex- 
travagant as  had  been  his  grief  before. 

Among  the  edibles  of  the  Sandwich  Islands,  I  have  omitted  to  men- 
tion several  articles  of  which  the  natives  are  extremely  fond.  These 
are,  sea-animals  of  various  kinds  ;  the  Echinus^  or  Sea-Hedgehog,  a  large 
ovoidal  animal  of  the  size  of  a  man's  fist,  covered  with  stony  spines 
four  or  five  inches  in  length  ;  and  the  black,  lumpish  substance,  called 
Beche  la  mer  by  the  French,  who  use  ship-loads  of  it  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  some  of  the  soups  for  which  they  are  so  celebrated.  Both  these 
animals  are  eaten  by  the  islanders  as  they  are  taken  living  from  the  wa- 
ter:  the  spines  of  the  Echini  are  knocked  off"  against  the  rocks,  and 
the  soft  contents  of  the  case  sucked  out :  the  Bcche  la  mer^  afier  hav- 
ing the  tough,  outside  skin  removed,  is  eaten  like  a  banana,  wliich  it,  in 
form,  somewhat  resembles.  But  the  animal  which  is  considered  by 
them  the  greatest  delicacy,  is  the  Sejna,  or  CiUlle-fish.  This  is  a  large- 
ill-looking  creature,  with  an  oval  body,  and  eight  or  ten  long  arms  or 
tenlaculcE  ;  within  the  cavity  of  the  thorax  is  a  sack,  containing  a  fluid 
resembling  ink,  and,  as   the   teeth   are  sunk   into  this,  the  black  juice 


1^4  SKETCHES  OF  A  VoVAGE 

squirts  into  the  face  of  the  masticator,  while  the  long  feelers  are  twist- 
ing abont  his  head,  forming  a  complete  cajmt  Medusa. 

In  the  latter  part  of  iAIarch,  we  set  sail  in  our  brig  to  return  to  the 
N.  American  coast,  taking  with  us  about  thirty  Sandwich  Islanders,  to 
assist  the  new  American  Company  in  the  Salmon  fishery.  Six  of  these 
natives,  or  Kanakas  as  they  are  called,  were  permitted,  by  our  Captain, 
to  take  their  wives  with  them.  When  they  embarked,  they  were  ac-, 
companied  by  several  of  their  friends  of  both  sexes,  who,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  observe,  prolonged  their  visit  even  after  the  pilot  had  taken  to 
his  boat,  and  returned  to  the  shore.  We  were  then  more  than  a  mile 
outside  the  coral  reef  which  surrounds  this,  and  most  other  islands  in 
the  South  seas,  and  nearly  two  from  the  shore.  Still  the  natives  remain- 
ed to  have  the  last  words  with  their  friends,  and  it  was  at  least  fifteen 
minutes  after,  when  the  vessel  was  fully  three  miles  from  the  land,  that 
they  were  observed  to  touch  noses,*  and  prepare  for  their  departure. 
This  preparation,  with  the  women,  consisted  snnply  in  removing  their 
single  calico  dress,  and  blinding  it  with  a  cord,  on  the  shoulders.  They 
then  appeared  without  clothing,  except  the  maro.)  or  fillet  of  calico  bound 
around  their  loins.  The  whole  party  then  sprang  into  the  sea,  and  made 
for  shore.  Upon  my  remarking  to  the  Captain  that  this  exposure  seem- 
ed almost  suicidal,  for  that,  if  they  escaped  drowning,  there  was  great 
risk  of  their  being  bitten  by  the  sharks  which  were  known  to  abound 
near  the  edge  of  tiie  reef,  he  replied  that  I  might  be  under  no  apprehen- 
sion ;  that  the  circumstance  which  had  excited  my  admiration  and  filled 
me  with  terror,  was  of  almost  daily  occurrence,  and  that  an  instance  of 
an  islander  perishing  in  the  water,  by  any  mode,  was  scarcely  known. 
The  Sandwich  Island  boys  are  said  absolutely  to  j;Z«// with  the  large 
blue  shark.  A  number  of  them  repair  together  to  the  coral  reef  which 
surrounds  the  Island,  each  one  being  provided  with  a  short,  hard  wood 
stick.  After  wading  over  the  reef,  they  plunge  fearlessly  into  the  deep 
sea  beyond,  and  by  their  noise  and  splashing,  soon  attract  to  them  some 
large  marauder,  which  is  sure  to  be  prowling  in  the  vicinity.  The  boys 
.swim  around,  calmly  awaiting  his  approach,  and  even  allowing  him  to 
get  within  biting  distance.  As  the  shark  rolls  upon  his  side  with  the 
benevolent  intention  of  nipping  off  the  head  or  one  of  the  limbs  of  the 
venturesome  youth,  he  receives  a  blow  on  the  nose  with  the  stick, 
which  stuns  him  and  causes  him  to  turn.  He  is  immediately  attacked, 
in  a  similar  manner,  on  the  other  side  :  and  thus  he  is  turned  and  cud- 

*  This  is  a  mode  of  salutation  peculiar,  I  believe,  to  the  Sandwich  Islanders. 
They  do  not  kiss,  although  their  lips  are  necessarily  involved  in  the  salute.  The 
nostrils  are  brought  in  apposition,  and  each  party  gives  a  vigorous  miff  at  the  nasal 
appendage  oi"  the  other. 


TO  THE    SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  l3,f> 

geled,  until,  with  his  snout  smarting  and  bleeding,  he  is  fain  to  retreat 
before  his  persevering  and  pitiless  little  foes. 

I  have  never  witnessed  this  sort  of  contest,  but  have  so  often  heard 
it  described,  both  by  the  foreign  residents  and  missionaries,  that,  prob- 
lematical as  it  may  appear,  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  its  truth. 

After  my  return  to  the  North  American  coast,  I  spent  nearly  two 
yeais  travelling  in  Oregon,  for  the  purpose  of  studying  its  Natural  his- 
tory, and  collecting  specimens ;  and,  about  the  middle  of  December, 
1836,  again  visited  the  Sandwich  Islands  on  my  return  to  the  United 
States.  I  was  gratified  to  find  all  my  old  friends  living  and  unchanged. 
They  received  me  with  their  wonted  kindness,  and  during  the  three 
months  that  1  remained,  their  civilities  and  attentions  to  me  never  flag- 
ged. 

I  take  great  pleasure  in  embracing  every  fitting  opportunity  of  ex- 
pressing my  great  obligations  to  the  resident  merchants  and  missionaries 
of  these  islands,  for  the  unvarying  politeness  and  hospitality  which  I 
experienced  at  their  hands. 

One  of  the  most  important  public  events  which  occurred  during  this 
visit,  was  the  death  of  the  amiable  native  Princess,  IlarieUa  JS'ahieuae- 
na,  sister  of  the  King.  Loud  wailing  and  lamentation  was  heard  in  ev- 
ery part  of  the  island  during  several  days  and  nights  after  the  occurrence 
of  this  sad  event.  On  the  afternoon  succeeding  her  death,  I  walked  to 
the  King's  palace  to  see  the  mourners  who  were  collected  there.  The 
large  enclosed  space  surrounding  the  house  was  crowded  with  natives 
of  both  sexes,  to  the  number  of  perhaps  a  thousand,  all  weeping  in  their 
loudest  key.  Young,  active  men  and  women,  and  the  old  and  decrepit, 
who  had  just  strength  enough  to  crawl  to  the  scene  of  action.  Chiefs 
and  common  people,  public  functionaries  and  beggars,  all  were  mingled 
in  one  common  herd,  bewailing  in  chorus  their  common  loss.  Then 
commenced  the  most  disgusting  part  of  the  mourning  ceremonies.  A 
number  of  men  and  women,  and  even  some  little  boj's  and  girls,  laid 
themselves  upon  their  backs  on  the  ground,  and  a  man  approached  them 
with  a  small  ivory  wedge  and  a  large  oval  stone  in  his  hand.  He  com- 
menced his  operations  upon  the  first  of  the  victims,  who  was  a  fine 
looking  young  man,  by  placing  the  wedge  between  two  of  his  front 
teeth,  and  striking  it  a  hard  and  quick  blow  with  the  stone.  This  loos- 
ened it  effectually ;  then  by  inserting  the  wedge  upon  the  opposite  side, 
and  giving  another  similar  blow,  out  flew  the  tooth  in  an  instant.  Jn 
this  manner,  every  person  who  was  lying  there,  lost  some  two,  others 
three  of  his  front  teeth,  and  during  the  whole  time  the  crying  was  not 
suspended  for  an  instant.     These  ceremonies  were  continued  for  the 


126  LOOSE  LEAVES 

space  of  five  or  six  days,  during  which  time,  it  was  said,  that  at  least  a 
thousand  teeth  had  been  extracted  in  the  manner  above  described. 

After  lying  in  state  for  ten  or  twelve  days,  the  remains  of  the  Prin- 
cess were  deposited  in  the  vault  of  the  Island  Kings. 

Philadelfhia,  Feb.  25th,  1847.  J.  K.  T. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.   VI. 

BV  J.  G.  M. 
THE   BRITISH  MUSEUM. 

A  naturalist  abroad  will,  of  course,  seek  out  every  collection,  pri- 
vate and  public,  that  is  of  any  special  interest,  and  in  most  instances, 
unusual  facilities  of  examination  are  afforded  him.  You  can  always 
distinguish  a  naturalist  even  among  a  crowd  of  spectators  in  a  museum; 
there  is  a  knowingness  in  his  inspections,  a  spccialness  of  observation; 
a  comparison  of  one  animal,  mineral  or  plant  with  others  of  the  same 
genus,  and  a  fixedness  of  attention  to  many  objects  superficially  or  en- 
tirely passed  over  by  the  mere  gazer,  that  always  distinguishes  the  con- 
noisseur.— "  I  see  you  are  a  naturalist," — said  a  stranger  to  me  one  day 
in  a  public  museum.  "  How  do  you  know  that .' " —  I  asked.  "  From 
your  manner  of  looking  at  this  collection," — was  his  reply.  This  gentle- 
man was  a  returned  missionary  from  Ceylon  in  bad  health,  and  was 
now  amusing  himself  with  natural  history  studies,  which  I  regard  as  the 
most  efiicient  dispellers  of  ennui  or  sick  room  taedium  that  any  man 
can  employ. 

No  palace,  cathedral,  monument,  church,  park,  exhibition,  gallery  of 
pictures,  or  the  thousand  other  "lions  "  of  London,  interested  me  so 
much  as  the  British  Museum.  I  happened  to  have  one  of  the  Profes- 
sors as  a  correspondent,  and  I  was  most  cordially  welcomed  by  him, 
and  introduced  to  five  or  six  of  his  colleagues,  among  whom  are  names 
which  have  gone  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Day  after  day,  1  went  into 
Iheir  sanctum,  an  immensely  large  room,  where  they  are  all  at  work, 
writing,  describing,  cataloguing,  arranging,  drawing,  or  painting  figures 
for  illustrated  books.  I  was  happy  in  meeting  here  a  countryman  who 
was  painting  an  animal  .for  Audubon  and  Bachman's  great  work  on  the 
mammalia  of  our  country.  Does  it  not  appear  strange  that  an  Ameri- 
can must  come  all  the  way  to  London  to  paint  an  American  animal? 
Yet,  so  it  is.  It  was  a  rare  one,  it  is  true,  and  found  in  no  American 
collection,  but  brought  to  London  by  the  agents  of  the  North  West 
Fur  Company.  I  never  before  felt  the  truth  of  an  observation  made  to 
me  some  years  ago  by  a  distinguis-hed  countryman  of  ours,  said  he  :  "  If 


FROM  31Y  JOURNAL.  127 

you  want  to  see  a  good  collection  of  American  Natural  History,  you 
must  go  to  Europe."  And  no  wonder;  the  governments  encourage  it ; 
they  or  learned  societies,  in  part  supported  by  governments,  send  out 
agents,  collectors  and  travellers  to  bring  home  the  productions  of  every 
Climate,  and  country,  and  there  they  now  stand  open  to  the  observation 
and  study  of  every  body. 

Jt  seems  almost  absurd  to  attempt  to  give  a  description  of  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  in  a  single  article  like  this,  when  the  reader  is  told,  that 
the  synopsis  or  general  description  of  its  contents,  intended  for  the  use 
of  persons,  who,  like  the  generality  of  its  visitors,  merely  take  a  curso- 
ry view  of  it,  occupies  400  closely  printed  pages.  I  can  now  only  take 
a  glance  at  it  and  that  a  very  superficial  one. 

The  British  Museum,  which  has  now  become  one  of  the  most  splen- 
did national  collections  in  the  world,  was  established  in  1759.  The 
vast  and  very  extensive  library  of  books  and  manuscripts,  together  with 
the  artificial  and  natural  curiosities  collected  by  that  great  physician  and 
naturalist,  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  at  an  expense  of  !^200,000,  was  purcliased 
by  Parliament  for  ^80,000,  and  this  is  the  foundation  of  the  museum. 
The  old  Montague  House,  in  whicli  it  was  deposited,  was  bought  for 
^40,000,  and  this  building  was  216  feet  long  and  51  high.  But  since 
that  time,  an  entire  new  edifice  has  sprung  up — a  magnificent  and  im- 
mensely large  structure,  worthy  of  the  British  nation.  I  believe  there 
are  at  present  more  than  30  rooms  occupied  by  the  collection,  and  when 
you  consider  that  many  of  these  are  twice  as  long  as  Pennsylvania  Col- 
lege, you  may  have  some  idea  of  the  vastnpss  of  tlie  establishment. 

There  are  some  apartments  to  which  strangers  are  not  admitted,  but 
under  the  wing  of  my  friends  the  Curators  and  Professors,  1  was  con- 
ducted into  many  a  room  forever  closed  to  the  mere  laical  visitor.  It 
was  a  glorious  privilege,  and  I  was  sometimes  almost  overcome  by  the 
inconceivable  extent  of  the  literary  and  artistic  treasures  there  collected. 

The  library  contains  300,000  volumes,  and  is  constantly  increasing. 
Five  thousand  dollars  a  year  are  expended  in  the  purchase  of  old  and 
foreign  publications,  and  the  library  is  further  enriched  by  a  copij  of 
every  neio  loork published  in  Great  Brilain.  The  whole  range  of  rooms 
on  one  floor  only  allotted  to  books  and  MSS.  even  in  the  old  hulding 
was  900  feet  in  length,  about  seven  times  as  long  as  your  College  edi- 
fice, and  I  presume  that  now,  it  cannot  be  less  than  1200  feet.  The 
collections  of  minerals  and  fossil  organic  remains  occupy  galleries  more 
than  600  feet  in  length. 

The  first  apartment  you  enter*,  in  the  regular  course  of  your  circuit, 
is  the  Ethnographical  Room.    It  contains  61  large  cases  full  of  all  sorts 


128  LOOSE   LEAVES  ETC. 

of  implements,  dresses,  instruments,  divinities,  models,  figures,  fruits, 
sculpture,  hieroglyphics,  ornaments,  and  ten  thousand  other  things  of 
Indian,  Chinese,  North  American  and  African  nations. 

The  Mammalian  Saloon  has  52  large  cases,  and  all  the  animals  are, 
of  course,  systematically  arranged,  and  so  set  up,  that  they  can  be  seen 
to  the  best  advantage.  In  four  table  cases,  i.  e.  horizontal,  is  arranged 
a  series  of  the  skulls  of  the  smaller  mammalia,  to  explain  the  characters 
of  the  order  and  families,  which  is  indispensable  to  the  comparative 
anatomist. 

The  birds  are  contained  in  166  cases,  and  I  suppose  there  are  6  or 
7000  specimens.  The  eggs  of  birds  are  placed  in  the  smaller  table 
cases  along  the  sides  of  the  rooms ;  they  are  arranged  in  the  same 
series  as  the  birds  in  the  upright  cases. 

The  univalve  shells,  in  31  horizontal  cases,  are  shown  to  great  ad- 
vantage, and  the  hi-valves  in  15.  Here  the  conchologist  has  a  glorious 
treat,  such  a  one  as  is  seldom  afforded. 

Suspended  from  the  walls  of  this  section  of  the  zoological  gallery 
are  116  portraits  of  distinguished  men. 

In  anotlier  section,  you  see  an  immense  collection  of  reptiles  and 
Batrachian  animals,  preserved  dry  and  in  spirits,  and  near  them,  the  first 
part  of  the  collection  of  the  hard  part  of  radiated  animals,  including 
the  sea  eggs,  sea  stars,  and  encrinites. 

In  another  apartment  there  are  43  cases  of  monkeys  and  squirrels ; 
20  cases  of  corals,  and  in  another  26  of  fishes,  and  11  of  Crustacea. 
The  room  for  the  minerals  is  immensely  long,  and  contains  60  large 
horizontal  cases  full  of  them ;  and  it  is  well  known  to  oryctologists, 
that  this  museum  contains  one  of  the  richest  collections  of  fossil  organ- 
ic remains  in  the  world. 

The  Gallery  of  antiquities  is  almost  endless.  The  famous  Elgin 
marbles  are  known  the  world  over.  The  Egyptian  saloon  is  almost 
imequalled,  and  the  infinite  number  of  medals,  coins,  inscriptions,  and 
every  thing  ancient  that  is  curious,  1  cannot  begin  to  mention. 

This  British  museum  is  a  great  place  of  resort,  and  crowds  of  visi- 
tors constantly  throng  its  long  saloons.  Admission  is  free,  and  you  are 
not  even  allowed  to  give  the  men  a  fee  who  take  charge  of  your  cane 
and  umbrella.  It  is  not  so  on  the  continent ;  there,  every  one  expects 
and  receives  a  fee,  and  well  powdered,  liveried,  white  stockinged  lackeys 
who  keep  your  cane,  hold  out  their  hand  and  bow  obsequiously  when 
you  drop  the  Kreutzer.  More  than  550,000  persons  visited  this  mu- 
seum in  one  year,  and  the  whole  establishment  is  a  magnificent  and  en- 
during  monument  to  the  liberality  and   scientific  zeal  of  the  British 


INSEXSIBLF.  CALORIC.  129 

Government. — We  shall  have  something  similar  when  our  present  grand 
collection  of  the  Exploring  Expedition  and  that  of  the  National  Insti- 
tute, are  ail  united  under  the  care  of  the  Smithsonian,  which  has  begun 
its  operations  with  so  much  promise  of  brilliant  success. 


ON  THE  DOCTRI^TE  OF  LATENT  OR  INSENSIBLE  CALORIC. 

1.  It  is  well  known,  that  when  a  body  is  condensed  or  its  particles 
are  brought  into  closer  proximity  to  each  other,  heat  is  produced.  Thus, 
when  air  is  suddenly  condensed  in  a  syringe,  sufficient  heat  is  evolved 
to  light  tinder-,  and  vvhen  a  piece  of  metal  is  hammered  on  a  smith's 
anvil,  for  some  time,  il  is  said,  that  it  can  be  rendered  red-hot.  Thus 
too,  friction  and  all  other  means,  by  which  the  condensation  of  particles 
can  be  produced,  are  attended  with  the  same  result.  It  is  in  this  way, 
that  the  Indian  and  hunter  arc  said  to  have  occasionally  lighted  their 
fires.  It  is  in  this  way  that  many  explosive  compounds  are  kindled,  and 
the  spark  is  evolved  "  from  the  smitten  steel." 

Now  in  all  these  cases  caloric,  which  did  not  appear  to  exist  there  be- 
fore, is  set  free  or  given  out  from  the  bodies  acted  upon.  Mechanical  ac- 
tion did  not  form  it,  but  only,  as  it  were,  drove  it  from  its  hiding  places. 
It  was  in  the  bodies,  but  in  their  ordinary  state,  there  was  no  evidence 
whatever  of  its  existence  there.  Hence  it  has  been  called  latent  or  con- 
cealed caloric ;  and,  because  it  did  not  affect  the  thermometer  or  the 
sense  of  touch,  it  has  also  been  denominated  insensible  caloric. 

2.  By  a  reverse  process  :  that  is,  by  causing  the  volumes  of  bodies 
to  expand,  heat  seems  to  be  lost,  and  cold  produced.  Thus  when  air, 
and  other  bodies  are  rarified,  their  temperatures  become-reduced.  A 
portion  of  the  caloric,  which  constituted  their  temperature  or  the  de- 
gree of  their  senslhle  heat,  becomes  lost  in  the  expanded  bodies.  This 
is  obviously  the  reverse  of  the  preceding.  Whatever  of  sensible  calo- 
ric is  lost  is  added  to  the  insensible,  and,  vice  versa^  whatever  is  taken 
away  from  the  insensible  or  latent  caloric  by  condensation  is  added  to 
the  sensible  temperature.  It  follows,  therefore,  from  this,  that  the  sum 
of  the  sensible  and  insensible  caloric  of  any  body  is  always  the  same. 
Further,  that,  as  expansion  produces  cold  by  rendering  caloric  insensi- 
ble, which  had  previously  been  sensible,  the  more  we  rarify  a  body  the 
njore  do  we  increase  its  power  of  holding  heat  in  a  concealed  state,  and 
consequently  a  vacuum  must  have  the  greatest  capacity  for  caloric. 
This,  to  a  very  great  extent,  will  explain  the  intense  cold  which  is  known 
to  prevail  in  the  more  elevated  portions  of  tlie  atmosj)here ;  for  if  a 
portion  of  air,  from  near  the  surface  of  the  earth,  were  carried  upwards 

17 


130  INSENSIBLE  CALORIC. 

it  would  become  constantly  colder  by  expansion,  until  it  would,  at 
length,  have  so  much  of  its  sensible  caloric  taken  away  in  the  form  of 
insensible,  that  its  temperature  would  be  reduced  to,  at  least,  100°  be- 
low that  of  freezing  water. 

3.  A  curious  conclusion  is  derived  from  the  preceding  statements, 
and  it  is  principally  foi  the  presentation  of  it  to  your  readers,  that  these 
lines  have  been  penned.  The  conclusion  is,  that  the  interplanetary 
spaces,  or  the  spaces  between  the  atmospheres  of  the  planets,  and  that 
profound  abyss  existing  between  the  myriads  of  stars  which  float  in 
immensity,  though  inconceivably  cold,  yet  contain  an  immense  amount 
of  insensihle  caloric  ;  and  therefore,  if  caloric  be  matter,  there  is  pro- 
perly speaking,  no  such  a  thing  as  a  vacuum^  but  the  Universe  is  a  ple- 
num. Hence  there  is  an  immense  ocean  of  calorific  matter,  which  fills 
all  space  and  every  pore  of  matter,  and  which  is  in  no  degree  depen- 
dent for  its  existence  or  source  to  sun,  or  star. 

4.  It  would  appear,  that  the  existence  of  heat  in  a  sensible  form  is 
mainly  due  to  the  impenetrability  of  matter;  that  is,  that  two  bodies, or 
two  particles  of  matter  cannot  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same  time. 
In  proportion  as  the  number  of  particles  of  ponderable  matter  increase 
in  a  given  space,  or  as  their  density  increases,  the  insensible  caloric  of 
that  space  becomes  sensible,  and  the  temperature  rises.  This  may  be 
regarded  as  the  general  law ;  for  diflerent  kinds  of  matter,  though  of 
equal  density,  do  not  give  out  precisely  the  same  amount  of  caloric  un- 
der the  same  circumstances ;  and  this  is,  no  doubt,  to  be  referred  to  a 
specific  attraction,  which  each  has  for  it,  and  which,  therefore,  causes  a 
slight  modification  of  the  general  law. 

5.  In  the  case  of  fires  or  of  ordinary  combustion  the  resulting  heat 
is  not  generated,  but  merely  liberated  during  the  process.  The  fuel, 
but  especially  the  oxygen  of  the, air,  contained  previously  in  a  latent 
form  the  heat,  which  now  makes  itself  to  be  felt.  The  new  compounds, 
which  are  formed  between  the  oxygen  and  combustible,  have  a  small- 
er capacity  for  caloric  than  the  materials  had  in  their  original  form,  and 
consequently  caloric,  which  was  before  incapable  of  afibcting  the  ther- 
mometer or  the  sense  of  touch,  now  becomes  sensible.  Combustion, 
therefore,  instead  of  forming  caloric,  only  gives  us  a  draft  upon  that 
vast,  unexpended  and  inexhaustible  fund,  which  is  co-extensive  with 
the  Universe  itself. 

6.  We. must  not  suppose  that  the  sun  and  stars,  which  shine  with 
so  much  splendor,  and  which  pour  forth,  from  their  fervid  masses,  an 
ocean  of  fire  into  the  abyss  of  space,  which  surrounds  each,  are  the 
sole  fountains  of  heat.     The  former  is  indeed  the  great  dispenser  of  the 


UNDISCOVERED  PLANETS.  133 

heat  to  our  earth  and  its  sister  planets,  which  causes  summer  to  emerge 
from  the  dreariness  of  winter,  but  it  is  only  affording  us  gradually  a 
portion  of  its  superfluous  temperature  with  which  it  was  originally  crea- 
ted. The  earth  gives  decided  evidences  that  its  temperature  was  once 
far  more  elevated  than  at  present;  and  we  doubt  not,  that  originally  the 
planets  too,  as  well  as  it,  had  the  same  temperature  as  the  sun,  but  be- 
ing small  bodies,  they  have,  by  cooling,  long  since  reached  the  point  o'f 
equilibrium  ;  and  that  at  some  distant  day  the  sun  will  wander  through 
space  as  cold  and  rayless  as  the  frigid  earth.  And  however,  high  itg 
present  temperature  may  be,  the  total  amount  of  heat  which  it  contains 
may  be  very  small  when  compared  with  that  vast  amount  of  insensible 
heat  which  fills  all  space. 


ON  THE  PROBABLE  EXISTENCE  OF  UNDISCOVERED  PLANETS. 

BY  D.  KIRKWOOD,  OF  LANCASTER,  PA. 

Previous  to  1S45,  when  Aslrea,  the  fifth  asteroid,  was  first  detected 
by  the  keen  eye  of  Professor  Hencke,  the  hope  of  discovering  any  new 
planetary  members  of  our  system  seems  to  have  been  generally  aban- 
doned. The  two  recent  additions,  however,  to  the  number  of  planets 
render  it  now  an  interesting  inquiry  whether  the  exploration  has  been 
sufllciently  complete  to  furnish  grounds  for  deciding  upon  the  probabi- 
lity or  improbability  of  further  discoveries.     We  shall  consider  : 

1.  Whether  there  areprohaNy  aiuj  planets  within  the  orhit  of  Mercury. 
The  distance  from  the  centre  of  Jupiier  to  the  nearest  satellite  is  about 
three  times  the  equatorial  diameter  of  the  Primary.  If,  therefore,  we  sup- 
pose the  distance  of  the  nearest  primary  planet  to  have  the  same  ratio 
to  the  diameter  of  the  sun,  the  orbit  of  such  planet  will  be  somewhat 
less  than  three  millions  of  miles  from  the  sun's  centre.  Consequently, 
in  the  interval  of  thirty-seven  millions  of  miles  there  may  be  four  pla- 
nets, the  orbit  of  the  nearest  having  the  dimensions  above  stated,  and 
their  respective  distances  increasing  in  the  ratio  of  Mercury's  distance 
to  that  of  Venus.  Such  bodies,  however,  in  consequence  of  their  prox- 
imity to  that  luminary,  could  hardly  be  detected,  except  in  transiting 
the  sun's  disc. 

2.  Whether  there  be  yet  any  undiscovered  asteroids  between  Mars  and 
Jupiter,  or  any  similar  bodies  ni  the  other  interplanetary  spaces.  We 
think  no  sufficient  reason  can  be  assigned  for  concluding  that  none  of 
this  interesting  group  of  planets  have  hitherto  escaped  observation  ;  but 
if  such  bodies  exist  there  can  be  little  or  no  prospect  that  they  will  ever 
become  known  by  their  disturbing  influence  upon  any  of  the  other 
members  of  the  system.     Consequently  there  remains  no  other  method 


132  UNDISCOVERED  PLAxNETS. 

of  discovery  but  that  of  thorough  telescopic  exploration,  which  would, 
indeed,  be  almost  a  hopeless  task,  were  it  necessary  to  examine  minute- 
ly every  part  of  the  Zodiac.  But  as  these  planets  perform  their  revolu- 
tions in  a  little  more  than  four  years,  it  is  obvious  that  by  making  regu- 
lar and  particular  observations  in  two  opposite  points,  any  moving  bo- 
dy discoverable  by  the  telescope  employed,  must  necessarily  be  detect- 
ed in  one  half  of  that  time.  For  half  a  century  to  come,  this  space 
between  Mars  and  Jupiter  will  perhaps  afford  greater  probabilities  of 
successful  examination  than  any  other.* 

In  the  immense  intervals  between  the  orbits  of  Jupiter  and  Saturn, 
Saturn  and  Uranus,  and  Uranus  and  Le  Verrier,  it  is  possible  that  simi- 
lar bodies  may  circulate,  at  least  equal  in  number  to  all  the  planets,  pri- 
mary and  secondary,  now  known ;  but  at  these  great  distances  bodies  so 
small  could  scarcely  be  rendered  visible  by  any  instrument  yet  con- 
structed. 

3.  Whether  there  be  any  planets  beyond  the  orbit  of  Le  Verrier.  The 
distance  of  the  nearest  fixed  star,  Mj^ha  Centauri,  is  more  than  two 
Iiundrcd  and  ten  thousand  times  the  radius  of  the  earth's  orbit,  or  seven 
thousand  times  the  distance  of  Le  Verrier's  planet.f  It  would  certain- 
ly be  presumptuous  to  aflirm  that  this  vast  interval  is  a  cheerless  blank. 
On  the  contrary,  the  existence  of  planets  more  remote  than  Le  Verrier, 
may,  we  think,  be  regarded  not  only  as  possible,  but  as  highly  probable; 
and  if  their  magnitudes  be  equal  to  those  of  Uranus  and  the  new  pla- 
net, undoubtedly  one,  if  not  more,  may  be  descried  by  our  telescopes. 
Of  this,  however,  there  is  not  much  probability  for  at  least  half  a  cen- 
tury to  come  ;  for,  as  the  illustrious  astronomer  who  developed  the  pla- 
net which  now  bears  his  name,  justly  asks  :  "Who  is  tliere,  who  would 
resolve  to  search  for  a  telescopic  star  in  the  twelve  signs  of  the  Zodiac  ?" 
])ut  if,  in  the  course  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  years,  astronomers  should  de- 
tect, in  regard  to  the  new  planet,  any  want  of  agreement  between  theo- 
ry and  observation,  the  mathematician  will  again  be  enabled  to  calculate 
the  longitude  of  the  disturbing  body ;  and,  it  is  evident  that  when  we 
.shall  have  reached  the  limit  of  optical  discovery,  the  orbit  of  at  least 
one  more  exterior  planet,  if  any  exist,  may  be  accurately  determined. 

*  This  is  allogetlier  improbable.  The  asteroids  between  Mars  and  Jupiter  col- 
lectively occupy  the  place  of  a  planet,  otherwise  wanting  in  the  series. — Ed. 

t  The  Linniean  Journal  of  December,  1846,  contained  some  estimates  of  the 
distance,  period,  magnitude,  Stc,  of  the  new  planet.  These  calculations  were  ba- 
sed upon  the  assumption  that  its  true  distance  was  that  indicated  by  the  law  of 
Bode.  The  observations,  however,  which  have  been  made,  although  necessarily 
insutticietit  i'or  determining  with  accuracy  the  elements  oC  its  orbit,  render  it  pro- 
bable that  its  mean  distance  is  no  more  than  about  thirty  times  that  of  the  earth, 
or,  2,8jO,000,000  miles.     The  coirespoading  peuod  is  about  !().>  years. 


THE  AGE  OK   FEIlICLEa.  133 

4.  IVhelher  there  be  any  satelUles  yet  undiscovered.  It  is  by  no  means 
unlikely  that  Uranus  has  several  satellites  which  have  hitherto  escaped 
the  observation  of  astronomers.  The  new  planet  is  doubtless  attended 
by  a  considerable  number;  some  of  which,  in  favorable  circumstan- 
ces, might  possibly  be  reached  by  our  most  powerful  instruments. 


THE  AGE  OF  PERICLES.       NO.  III. 

In  connection  with  music,  the  arts  of  sculpture,  painting  and  archi- 
tecture were  advanced  to  a  degree  of  perfection  never  since  surpassed. 
Pericles  found  the  treasury  of  the  city  enriched  to  triple  the  amount  of 
her  revenues.  The  magazines  of  Athens  abounded  with  wood,  metal, 
ebony,  ivory  and  all  the  materials  of  the  useful  as  well  as  of  the  agree- 
able arts.  The  luxuries  of  Italy,  Sicily,  Cyprus,  Lydia,  Pontus  and 
Peloponnesus  were  imported.  Experience  had  taught  them  greater  skill 
in  working  the  silver  mines  of  Mount  Laurium,  and  the  splendid  marble 
veins  had  been  recently  opened  in  Mount  Pentelicus.  Here  then  were 
all  the  materials  at  hand,  necessary  for  the  sculptor  and  architect,  under 
the  control  of  Pericles,  with  a  taste  to  appreciate  and  direct,  and  wealth 
and  power  to  gratify  all  his  wishes. 

The  city  was  speedily  adorned  with  temples  and  porticoes,  and 
theatres,  and  baths,  and  statues,  and  altars,  which  in  the  language  of  an- 
cient panegyric  rendered  Athens  the  eye  of  Greece.  Sculpture  and 
painting  existed  before  the  age  of  Pericles,  in  a  rude  form,  it  is  true ; 
this  great  statesman,  by  his  unbounded  patronage,  brought  them  to  per- 
fection. He  reasoned  correctly,  when  he  asserted,  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  a  statesman  to  provide  not  only  for  the  army  and  navy,  and  the 
judges,  and  others  immediately  connected  with  the  public  service ;  but  the 
great  body  of  the  people  demanded  his  constant  and  anxious  care.  The 
erection,  therefore,  of  public  buildings,  splendid  and  imposing,  would 
give  an  impulse  to  the  arts,  would  stimulate  domestic  industry,  and  leave 
an  imperishable  monument  of  the  gloiy  and  power  of  Athens.  Under  the 
influence  of  such  motives  he  boldly  opened  the  treasury,  and  expended 
about  4000  talents,  a  sum  which  then  might  command  as  much  labor  as 
six  or  seven  millions  sterling  at  the  present  time.  Such  an  impulse  was 
given  to  the  arts  of  design,  and  the  work  in  general  necessary  for  the 
embellishment  of  the  city,  that  the  most  ingenious  strangers  from  all 
quarters  flocked  into  Athens  as  the  best  market  for  their  skill. 

It  was  the  peculiar  felicity  of  Pericles  to  find  his  native  city  not  on- 
ly well  provided  with  all  the  materials  of  art,  but  also  the  artists  who 
knew  how  to  employ  them  to  the  best  advantage. 


134  THE  AGE  OF  PERICLES. 

The  most  distinguished  sculptors  who  adorned  this  age  were  Phi- 
dias, Polycletiis,  Scopas,  Acamenes  and  Myron,  and  their  cotempoiary 
painters  equally  distinguished  were  Pansenus,  Zeuxis  and  Parrhasius. 
Specimens  of  the  genius  and  skill  of  the  latter  have  not  come  down  to 
modern 'times.  Their  paintings  were  generally  made  on  wood  and  other 
perishable  materials.  But  we  can  learn  from  cotemporary  writers  that 
ihey  attained  the  perfection  of  the  art,  conveying  in  the  posture  and 
face,  and  in  general  in  the  expression  of  the  whole  figure,  not  only  pain 
and  sorrow  and  the  fierce  and  turbulent  passions  of  the  soul,  but  what 
may  be  said  to  be  the  triumph  of  the  art,  representing  and  recommend- 
ing tlie  social  affections.  Xenophon  tells  us,  that  in  the  days  of  Socra- 
tes, they  represented  by  the  outward  air,  attitude  and  features,  whatever 
is  most  engaging,  affectionate,  sweet  and  amiable  of  the  inward  senti- 
ments and  character.  So  that  as  early  as  Socrates  the  art  of  painting 
%vas  carried  to  a  considerable  degree  of  perfection. 

In  statuary  the  merit  of  Phidias  was  acknowledged  by  all.  He  was 
employed  by  Pericles  to  superintend  all  the  embellishments  of  the  city, 
so  that  his  own  hands  added  to  them  their  last  and  most  valuable  orna- 
ments. The  most  wonderful  production  of  this  artist  is  tlie  statue  of 
Jupiter  Olympus,  in  Elis.  "  It  was  sixty  feet  high,  sitting  on  a  throne, 
and  touching  the  roof  with  its  head.  This  vast  colossus  was  composed  of 
gold  taken  in  the  sack  of  Pisa  and  of  ivory,  then  almost  as  precious  as 
gold,  which  was  brought  from  the  East  by  Athenian  merchantmen.  The 
god  had  an  enameled  crown  of  olive  on  his  head,  an  image  of  victory 
in  his  right  liand,  and  a  burnished  sceptre  in  his  left.  His  robes  and 
sandals  were  variegated  with  golden  flowers  and  animals.  The  throne 
was  made  of  ivory  and  ebony  inlaid  with  precious  stones.  The  feet, 
■which  supported  it,  as  well  as  the  fillets  which  joined  them,  were  adorn- 
ed with  innumerable  figures.  Among  which  you  perceived  the  Theban 
children  torn  by  Sphynxes,  together  with  Apollo  and  Diana  shooting 
the  beautiful  and  once  flourishing  family  of  Niobe.  Besides  these,  there 
were  statues  representing  the  various  gymnastic  exercises  and  paintings, 
on  the  pillars  supporting  the  throne,  by  PanaBuus  the  brother  of  Phidias, 
representing  the  Hesperides  guarding  the  golden  apples,  Atlas  painfully 
sustaining  the  heavens  with  Hercules  ready  to  assist  him,  Salamine  with 
naval  ornaments  in  her  hands,  Achilles  supporting  the  beautiful,  expiring 
Penthcsilea." 

The  services  of  Phidias,  and  under  him  the  most  distinguished  artists 
of  Greece,  were  employed  during  the  period  ol'  fifteen  years  in  the  em- 
bellishing of  his  native  city.  During  this  short  period  he  completed 
the  Odeum  or  theatre  for  music,  the  Parthenon   or  temple  of  Minerva, 


THE  AGE   OF   PERICLES.  135 

the  Propyleeum  or  vestibule  belonging  to  the  citadel,  together  with  the 
sculptured  picturesque  ornaments  and  immortal  works,  which,  as  Plu- 
tarch remarks,  when  new,  expressed  the  mellowed  beauties  of  time  and 
maturity,  and  when  old  still  retained  the  fresh  charms  and  alluring 
graces  of  novelty.  The  Parthenon  which  still  remains  justifies  this 
panegyric.  It  is  21,729  inches  long,  composed  of  beautiful  white  mar- 
ble, and  acknowledged  by  travellers  to  be  the  noblest  piece  of  anti- 
quity existing  in  the  world.  The  Pcecile  was  a  splendid  edirice  painted 
by  Pana3nus,  designed  to  contain  paintings  of  the  most  important  events 
in  Grecian  history.  Here  was  painted  the  siege  of  Troy,  the  victory  of 
Theseus  over  the  Amazons,  also  the  battle  of  Marathon,  where  the  only 
distinction  allowed  Miltiades  was  to  be  represented  more  conspicuously 
than  the  rest.  What  a  stimulus  to  glorious  achievements  must  have 
been  such  an  edifice  containing  the  collected  heroism  of  the  whole  na- 
tion !  The  whole  extent  of  the  Acropolis,  above  six  miles  in  circum- 
ference, was  so  diversified  with  works  of  painting  and  statuary  that  it  be- 
came one  continued  scene  of  elegance  and  beauty.  The  crowning  work 
of  this  great  master  was  his  statue  of  Minerva  set  up  in  the  Parthenon, 
The  first  efl!ect  of  these  works  of  art,  so  unrivaled  in  their  excellency, 
unquestionably  was  to  increase  their  devotion  to  the  deities  represented 
in  such  a  masterly  manner.  Such  splendor  and  wealth  and  pomp  could 
not  fail  to  strike  the  minds  of  the  multitude  with  awe.  If  the  unaided 
genius  of  man  could  produce  such  a  representation,  what  must  be  the 
originals  ?  But  these  arts,  which  at  first  were  hand-maids  to  virtue  and 
religion,  which  elevated  and  refined  the  feelings,  degenerated  into  sources 
of  impurity  and  licentiousness.  To  paint  a  Venus,  or  to  make  her  sta- 
tue combining  in  one  all  the  charms  of  form  and  face,  is  but  to  pander 
to  the  lowest  passions  of  our  nature.  Licentious  pictures  are  mention- 
ed by  ancient  writers  as  a  general  source  of  corruption,  and  considered 
as  the  first  ambush  that  beset  the  safety  of  youth  and  innocence.  If 
moral  excellency,  patriotism,  disinterestedness,  or  some  form  of  public 
or  private  virtue,  or  piety  is  not  to  be  illustrated,  these  arts  tend  to  de- 
grade rather  than  elevate,  and  the  skill  and  genius  of  the  artist  are  em- 
ployed in  sapping  the  foundations  of  all  that  is  holy  and  good  in  man. 
Thus  it  was  at  the  close  of  the  life  of  Pericles  and  subsequently.  He 
sought  to  embellish  the  city,  and  with  those  embellishments,  introduced 
corruption  and  crime.  Other  causes,  however,  were  equally  operative 
and  far  more  powerful  in  their  nature.  The  very  genius  of  her  religion 
tended  to  licentiousness,  and  when  the  frugality  and  sobriety  of  the 
laws  of  Solon  were  violated  by  the  introduction  of  every  species  of  lux- 
-ury,  and   the  public  purse  filled  by  contributions  from  the  auxiliary 


136  THE   AGE   OF  PERICLES, 

Slates  was  opened,  and  its  contents  lavished  indiscriminately  upon  an 
idle  multitude,  what  other  consequences  could  be  anticipated  ? 

In  addition  to  this,  we  must  not  forget  the  dissolute  school  of  the 
accomplished  and  wanton  Aspasia.  Previous  to  the  period  under  con- 
sideration woman  was  secluded  and  confined  to  the  retirement  of  the 
domestic  circle,  except  on  certain  festival  occasions.  It  was  considered 
immodest  for  a  female  to  be  seen  abroad.  At  home  she  was  admitted 
to  the  privilege  of  superintending  the  affairs  of  the  household,  but  never 
to  an  equality  with  her  husband.  Ignorant  and  degraded,  unlike  her 
sex  in  the  rival  state  of  Sparta,  sKe  was  the  slave  of  her  master.  But 
now  from  the  fruitful  and  sunny  plains  of  Asia  where  the  colonists  had 
learned  the  refinements  and  luxuries  of  the  East,  Aspasia  returns  to  the 
mother  city,  endowed  with  every  personal  charm  to  captivate,  and  rich- 
ly stored  with  those  mental  attainments,  which  render  conquest  not  only 
secure  but  permanent.  With  these  attractive  charms  she  brought  pas- 
sions fanned  into  licentiousness  by  the  nature  of  her  education  and 
manners,  lewd  and  wanton  from  the  customs  of  her  native  country.  If 
philosophy  and  the  arts  passed  from  the  East  to  the  West,  from  Ionia  to 
Greece,  they  were  accompanied  by  the  corruption  which  had  so  long 
been  nourished  by  the  sensuality  of  Asia  Minor.  Aspasia,  vvith  all  the 
defects  which  belonged  to  her  character,  must  have  been  a  wonderful 
example  of  female  accomplishment,  else  Pericles  would  neither  liave  been 
guided  by  her  counsels,  nor  the  venerable  Socrates  sat  at  her  feet  a 
humble  disciple.  It  is  said,  that  her  instructions  helped  to  form  the 
greatest  and  most  distinguished  orators  of  Greece.  However,  this  may 
be,  her  example  and  instructions  helped  to  introduce  a  bold  and  opened 
shameless  licentiousness,  such  as  had  not  before  been  seen  at  Athens. 
From  this  time  forward  laxity  of  morals  advanced  in  an  increased  ratio, 
until  this  city  became  emphatically,  if  not  the  most,  one  of  the  most 
dissolute,  in  all  Greece. 

At  the  same  time,  there  flourished  at  Athens  the  sophists,  who,  pos- 
sessing in  truth,  the  art  of  persuasion  in  a  high  degree,  and  skilled  in  all 
the  rhetorical  rules  of  the  day,  employed  their  genius  and  skill  not  in 
recommending  virtue,  but  in  acquiring  fame  and  wealth,  and  pandering 
to  the  desires  of  their  wealthy  pupils.  They  sought  the  friendship  of 
the  rich  and  the  many.  They  professed  the  knowledge  of  every  art 
and  science,  and  during  the  celebration  of  the  great  Grecian  festivals 
had  presented  to  them  the  finest  field  for  the  display  of  their  power. 
Their  manners  were  elegant,  their  life  splendid,  and  their  language  glow- 
ing and  harmonious  ;  in  a  word,  they  were  tlie  polished  gentlemen  of 
no  principle  but  selfishness,  by  their  polish  and  taste  captivating  the 


THE. AGE  OF   PERICLES.  137 

young,  decking  out  a  false  philosophy  with  meretricious  ornament?,  and 
instilling  into  the  mind  those  lessons  of  morality,  exemplifications  of 
which  the  school  of  Aspasia  was  daily  exhibiting.     They  were  the  in- 
fidel gentlemen  of  Pagan  Greece  furnishing  lessons  which  not  only 
tended  to  undermine  the  existing  religious  views,  but  laid  the  foundation 
for  all  the  sophistry  on  that  subject,  which  has  subsequently  appeared. 
Against  these  time-servers,  these  destroyers  of  morality  and  correct 
reasoning,  Socrates  lifted  up  his  voice.     He  exposed  them  to  ridicule, 
showed  the  fallacy  of  their  reasonings,  and  triumphed  over  them.   Con- 
fining himself  in  his  reasonings  within  the  limits  of  what  could  be 
known  by  man,  and  reasoning  from  facts,  by  exhibiting  the  truth  in  its 
native  simplicity,  he  showed  that  his  opponents  were  mere  theorists  and 
had  erected  superstructures  without  foundations.     The  cup  of  hemlock 
and  his  parting  discourse  with  his  disciples  so  full  of  tenderness  teaches 
us  how  short-lived   was  his  triumph,  and  how  deeply  seated  in  the 
minds  of  the  people  were  the  principles  and  reasoning  of  his  enemies. 
Without  dwelling  longer  on  this   topic,  which  alone  would  furnish  an 
interesting  and  instructive  essay,  and  without  deducing  those  practical 
reflections,  we  will  hasten  to  a  conclusion,  which  the  subject  awakens  in 
such  abundance.     The  age  of  Pericles  then,  the  glorious  age  of  Greece, 
presents  us  with  a  picture  full  of  interest  and  instruction.     Pericles 
stands  on  the  fore-ground  proudly-eminent.     With  a  mind  vast  and  ca- 
pacious, a  genius  at  once  lofty  and  versatile,  eloquence  so  overpowering 
that  he  was  sur-named  the  Thunderer — he  employed  all  for  the  eleva- 
tion of  himself  and  his  country,  and  having  raised  his  country  to  a  pitch 
of  glory  unexampled  in  her  previous  history,   he  prepared  the  w-ay  for 
her  ruin  by  his  extravagance.     Next  we  see  Aspasia  introduced  and 
maintained  by  him  in  his  native  city,  to  the  scandal  of  the  virtuous  and 
the  destruction  of  good  morals.     Next  we  have  the  stage,  once  employ- 
ed for  the  instruction  of  the  populace  in  piety  and  virtue  and  heroism, 
degenerating  into  a  theatre  of  lampoon  and  obscenity,  and  finally  the 
false  logic  and  false  sentiments  of  the  sophists  ultimately  triumphing  in 
the  death  of  Socrates  and  the  dispersion  of  his  disciples.     Gradually 
the  lights  of  Greece,  one  by  one,  expire,  her  philosophers  degenerate  in- 
to quibbling  sophists,  and  her  generals  and  oiators  become  the  venal  tools 
of  a  foreign  foe.    Finally,  the  eye  of  Greece  is  closed,  and  Athens,  shorn 
of  her  glory,  sits  solitary  and  in  sack-cloth,  the  slave  of  those  she  form- 
erly ruled.     Yet  the  Parthenon  remains  a  monument  of  her  architectu- 
ral greatness,  and  her  poets  and   philosophers  and  historians  will  exert 
an  inHuence  whilst  there  is  on  earth  correct  taste  and  feeling. 
18 


k 


135 

THE  TWIN  CONVERSIONS. 

BY  PROF.  W.  M.   KEYNOLDS,  OF  PA.  COLLEGE. 

Coleridge  somewhere  {in  his  Friend  I  believe,)  refers  to  the  fol- 
lowing anecdote,  but  I  know  of  no  book  current  among  us  in  which  the 
epigram  of  Alabaster  is  to  be  met.  I  have,  therefore,  thought  the 
Record  might  be  doing  a  favor  to  this  age  and  land  of  controversy,  by- 
renewing  the  memory  of  this  singular  event.  Rightly  interpreted,  I 
think  that  it  furnishes  us  with  a  lesson  of  liberality  and  modesty,  which 
the  heat  and  turmoil  of  disputes  in  politics  and  religion,  have  almost 
banished  from  among  us.  At  least  I  think,  that  it  will  always  be  well 
for  us  to  remember  that  there  may  be  something  in  an  opponent's  argu- 
ments as  well  as  in  our  own. — But  to  my  story,  which  I  intend  to  tell 
not  for  the  sake  of  this  moral  which  is  prefixed,  but  on  account  of  the 
epigram  which  follows. 

Henke  (in  his  Appendix  to  Villier's  Spirit  of  the  Reformation  pp. 
152 — 153,)  gives  this  story  upon  the  authority  of  Bayle  as  follows : 
John  and  William  Reynolds  were  twin  brothers,  the  one  a  Protestant 
and  the  other  a  Roman  Catholic.  They  were  both  Englishmen,  and  the 
former  resided  in  his  native  country,  which  the  latter  had  been  com- 
pelled to  leave  on  account  of  his  religious  views,  and  to  take  up  his 
abode  in  the  Spanish  Netherlands.  They  were  both  learned  men,  and 
alike  zealous  in  their  faith.  On  account  of  their  mutual  and  tender  at- 
tachment they  were  greatly  concerned  for  each  other's  eternal  salvation. 
This  was  the  constant  burthen  of  their  letters  to  each  other,  and  after 
a  correspondence  of  many  years,  in  which  the  great  points  in  dispute 
between  them  were  fully  discussed,  they  were  so  successful  that  each 
renounced  Ids  men  lelief  and  adopted  that  of  his  hrother^  when  with 
his  faith  he  had  also  to  change  his  place  of  abode. 

William  Alabaster,  who  may  well  be  supposed  to  have  equally  sym- 
pathised with  both  the  brothers,  having  first  been  a  Protestant,  then  a 
Romanist,  and  again  a  Protestant,  has  celebrated  this  circumstance  in 
the  following  epigram,  which,  if  it  be  not  as  elegant  as  some  of  Mar- 
tial's, is  certainly  not  discreditable  to  the  scholarship  of  England  in  the 
beginning  of  the  17th  century,  when  it  was  written.* 

Bella  inter  geminos  plus  quam  civilia  fratres 

Traxerat  ambiguus  relligionis  apex. 
Ille  reformatae  fidei  pro  partibus  instat; 

Iste  reformandam  denegat  esse  fidem. 
Propositis  causae  rationibus,  alteruterque 

Concurrere  pares,  et  cecidere  pares. 

*  Alabaster  died  in  1G40. 


EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS.  139 

Quod  fuit  in  votis,  fratrem  capit  alteruterque  j 

Quod  fuit  in  fatis,  perdit  uterque  iidem. 
Captivi  gemini  sine  captivante  fuerunt, 

Et  victor  victi  transfuga  castra  petit. 
Quod  genus  hoc  pugnae  est,  ubi  victus  gaudet  uterque, 

Et  tamen  alteruter  se  superasse  dolet  ? 

Which  I  have  tried  to  put  into  English  in  the  following  pentameter?, 
•which  may  answer  until  some  true  poet  gives  them  a  more  melodious 
character : 

Twin-born  brothers  a  contest  worse  than  civil  were  waging. 
Goaded  to  strife  by  some  point  dark  in  religion  and  faith. 

This  one  appears  of  reform  the  bold  and  ardent  defender ; 
That  one  denies  that  the  faith  ever  conld  need  a  reform. 

When  they  had  marshall'd  their  reasons,  fiercely  each  rush'd  to  the  battle. 
Equal  the  strength  of  each,  equal  the  heroes  fell  too. 

Just  as  their  prayers  had  been,  each  made  his  brother  a  captive  ; 

Just  as  the  fates  decreed,  each  of  his  faith  was  bereft. 
Two  poor  captives  there  were,  but  no  capturer  ready  to  hold  them, 

Lo  !  the  conqueror  here  unto  the  conquer'd  deserts. 
What  kind  of  battle  is  this,  where  the  conquer'd  elated  rejoices  ? 

Yet,  that  he  conquer'd,  each  weeping  laments  and  bewails. 


epistles  to  students.     no.  vi. 
_  Young  Gentlemen  : 

You  are  now  in  the  membership  of  a  literary  in.stitution.  Having 
been  submitted  to  a  probation,  you  were  admitted,  at  its  close,  to  matri- 
culation, and  your  college  considers  you  as  one  of  her  sons.  She  has 
sons  of  almost  every  grade  of  character.  Some  are  distinguished  for 
high  moral  purity;  they  are  disciples  of  Christ.  Others  are  adorned 
with  the  virtues  of  gentlemen,  and  abhor  the  grosser  forms  of  vice. 
Others,  again,  assume  the  exterior  of  correct  deportment  and  desire  to 
make  a  favorable  impression  upon  their  instructors,  but  secretly  are  rea- 
dy for  mischief  to  almost  any  extent.  These,  with  the  uncouth  and 
the  wily,  whose  trickiness  may  be  read  in  their  eyes  and  faces,  though 
not  embracing  every  variety  of  character,  may  suffice  as  an  enumeration 
at  present.  The  rank  which  a  student  occupies,  generally  depends  on 
his  training  before  he  enters.  It  is  true,  that  great  changes  have  taken 
place  in  young  men  during  their  college-life.  These  changes  may  be 
from  good  to  bad,  or  the  contrary.  It  is  very  probable  that  in  the  col- 
lege to  which  you  belong,  more  have  been  reclaimed  from  vice,  and  rend- 
ered morally  good  than  the  contrary.  Many,  it  is  known,  have  been 
brought  under  religious  influence  during  their  stay  at  college.     Others, 


140  EFISTLES  TO  STUDENTS. 

who  have  appeared  to  lose  in  moral  purity,  have  in  a  great  majority  of 
instances,  doubtless,  been  deficient  in  moral  principle  before  they  came. 
Young  men,  spoiled  elsewhere,  have  acted  out  their  principles  and  in- 
curred disgrace,  but  they  imbibed  the  poison  before  they  entered  the 
walls  of  that  institution,  which  is  too  often  unjustly  charged  with  their 
offences. 

Upon  you  it  will  depend  to  determine  whether  your  career  shall  be 
honorable  or  dishonorable,  whether  you  will  finish  your  studies  and 
reap  the  reward  of  fidelity  in  the  coronation  and  blessings  of  your  mother, 
or  terminate  it  suddenly,  midway,  and  disappear  amongst  the  hisses  of 
the  friends  of  virtue,  whose  principles  you  have  desecrated,  and  the 
mournings  of  your  parent  for  her  degenerate  offspring. 

There  is  nothing  within  your  reach — save  an  interest  in  the  right- 
eousness of  the  Son  of  God — more  desirable  than  a  youth  unstained  with 
crime.  In  every  future  period  of  life,  it  will  contribute  greatly  to  your 
happiness  to  be  able  to  look  back  on  the  days  of  peculiar  temptation  and 
to  feel  that,  though  not  adorned  with  the  graces  of  Christianity,  you  were 
kept  from  the  gross  forms  of  transgression.  It  does  not  take  long  to 
perform  deeds  which  can  never  be  obliterated.  They  may  be  unknown 
to  any  human  being,  or  but  to  few,  who  equally  implicated,  will  have 
the  strongest  motive  to  conceal,  so  that  there  can  be  no  danger  of  di- 
vulgement  j  they  may  be  washed  away  in  that  blood  which  cleanses  from 
all  sin,  and  the  hope  may  be  entertained  on  the  best  ground  that  the 
vcni'-eance  of  God  will  not  sniite  on  account  of  them,  but  notwithsand- 
ino-  all  this,  they  will  hang  around  the  memory  with  chilling  power, 
and  with  sad  periodical  visitation  harrow  up  with  bitter  anguish  the 
spirit.  When  the  mind  becomes  fully  prepared  to  measure  moral  de- 
linquency, to  test  actions  by  the  light  of  the  divine  law,  it  is  then  that 
it  sees  and  feels  them  in  all  their  intensity. 

It  is  not  the  estimate  which  we  may  now  make,  it  is  not  that  which 
is  made  by  those  whose  moral  sense  has  lost  its  power,  but  that  which 
is  made  by  an  enlightened  conscience,  which  should  be  regarded  as  cor- 
rect. It  is,  we  are  persuaded,  the  iniquities  of  the  young  which  will 
cause  them  to  become  their  own  tormentoi-s,  and  what  others  may  have 
pardoned,  they  will  not  be  able  to  forgive.  Great  then  should  be  your 
solicitude  to  pursue  such  a  course  as  will  not  destroy  self-respect,  as  will 
awaken  no  remorse  in  the  future,  as  will  call  for  no  restitution  in  order 
to  case  the  pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience,  as  will  subject  to  no  dis- 
grace, if  it  should  become  known.  How  important  this  is,  is  understood 
by  some,  and  has  been  deeply  felt  by  those  who  have  preceded  you. 
Could  thcv  tell  you  how  God  set  their  sin  before  them  and  troubled 


LiNN.'EAN  OPEUATIO.\S.  14.1 

them,  how  they  rested  not  till  some  atonement  had  been  made,  how,  af- 
ter all,  they  have  been  compelled  to  grieve  over  and  lament  their  wicked- 
ness, and  when  forgiven  by  all,  have  not  forgiven  themselves,  it  would 
plead  in  favor  of  youthful  purity,  in  tones  such  as  if  resisted  would  be 
resisted  by  hearts,  whose  callousness  is  like  that  of  the  nether  millstone. 
For  your  own  sake — if  not  to  meet  the  desires  of  your  parents  and 
teachers — should  your  abstinence  from  evil  be  rigorous,  and  your  devo- 
tion to  what  is  right,  earnest  and  persevering.  Never  let  it  be  forgot- 
ten, that  every  offence  committed  by  you  does  to  you  a  deeper  injury, 
far  deeper  than  it  can  to  any  one  else — that  you  will  be  the  real,  the 
great  sufferer,  that  vengeance  will  recoil  on  your  own  guilty  souls.  De- 
parting from  this  topic,  you  may  be  properly  reminded  that  your  situa- 
tion is  one  which  affords  invaluable  privileges.  No  greater  blessing  can 
be  conferred  on  any  young  man,  which  has  not  an  immediate  connection 
with  his  happiness  in  a  future  world,  than  is  his,  who  in  the  providence 
of  God,  is  favored  with  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  a  learned  education. 
Many  a  young  man  has  desired  it,  but  it  was  not  placed  within  his 
reach.  Many  have  toiled  for  it  by  the  most  self-sacrificing  labors.  Many 
have  secured  it  by  privations  almost  beyond  human  endurance.  These 
were  noble  spirits  !  They  have  aspired  and  acted  well.  They  have 
taught  a  most  useful  lesson,  and  their  reward  has  far  exceeded  their  toils. 
They  unite  in  testimony  with  all,  who  have  properly  appreciated  the 
value  of  education,  to  its  unspeakable  worth.  Look  around  and  see  how 
many  desire  to  be  what  you  are,  and  cannot,  who  would  gladly  avail 
themselves  of  your  places  and  faithfully  fulfill  their  duties,  but  it  is  de- 
nied. You  have  been  made  to  difler  from  them — this  is  your  glory. 
""You  have  been  invested  with  larger  responsibilities — this  is  the  price 
•which  you  must  pay  for  your  pre-eminence.  If  your  elevation  is  high, 
and  it  is  high  ; — how  fearful  your  responsibility  !  Much  is  given  you 
and  much  will  be  required  of  you.  We  cannot  press  this  subject  fur- 
ther now.  Our  conclusion  is,  may  you  have  strength,  such  as  God  alone 
can  give,  to  enable  you  to  walk  as  becomes  you,  and  through  the  whole 
of  this  path  of  peril  so  to  progress  as  to  attain  the  true  goal. 

Yours,  Sec. 


LINN^AN  OPERATIONS. 

An  active  member  of  the  Association  has  kindly  furnished  us  with 
some  account  of  the  operations  of  tlie  Linnmans^  which  we  give  to  our 
readers,  supposing  that  it  will  be  interesting  to  those  who  have  already 
gone  forth  from  the  walls  of  their  Mma  Mater.    They  will,  no  doubts 


112  L5NN.EAN  OPERATIOXS. 

be  gratified  to  learn  what  their  successors  are  accomplishing  and  how 
industriously  they  are  engaged  in  advancing  the  interests  of  the  Institu- 
tion. Although  yet  in  its  infancy,  the  Linnsean  Association  has  done 
much.  The  members  deserve  much  credit  for  their  industry  and  zeal; 
to  their  enterprise  we  are  indebted  for  many  valuable  improvements ; 
and  from  the  activity  and  energy  they  have  already  displayed,  still 
greater  results  may  be  expected. 

The  Linnsean  Association  was  organized  in  June,  1844.  Its  prima- 
ry object  was  the  cultivation  of  the  study  of  Natural  Science  in  the  \n- 
stitution,  by  fostering  among  its  members  a  spirit  of  investigation  and  a 
love  for  the  works  of  Nature.  The  Association  immediately  divided  it- 
self into  different  sections,  each  section  directing  its  attention  to  some 
particular  branch  of  study  or  department  of  inquiiy.  Among  the  sub- 
jects designated  are  Zoology,  Entomology,  Ornithology,  Conchology, 
Mineralogy,  Botany,  Numismatology,  Chemistry  and  Antiquities.  Ef- 
forts were  at  once  put  forth  for  the  formation  of  a  Museum,  and  through 
the  active  exertions  of  the  members  and  the  liberality  of  kind  friends 
quite  a  handsome  collection  has  already  been  secured.  So  rapidly  did 
the  Cabinet  increase  that  in  a  short  time  the  room  occupied  for  the  pur- 
pose was  found  inadequate  to  contain  all  the  articles,  and  hence  a  little 
more  than  a  year  ago,  the  Association  engaged  in  the  project  of  erecting 
a  large  and  commodious  Hall  for  the  reception  of  the  valuable  collection 
of  minerals,  shells,  birds,  quadrupeds,  reptiles,  insects,  coins,  fossils, 
medals,  &c.  &c.  The  members  industriously  set  themselves  to  work 
to  procure  subscriptions,  and  soon  their  success  was  such  as  to  justify 
the  commencement  of  the  building.  The  corner-stone  was  laid  last 
August  with  appropriate  ceremonies  ;  the  edifice  now  stands  under  roof,' 
and  when  finished,  it  will  be  an  ornament  to  the  College,  and  an  endur- 
ing monument  of  the  zeal  and  perseverance  of  the  students  of  1845-46, 
who  projected  the  enterprise.  The  exercises,  connected  with  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  Hall,  will  take  place,  sometime,  during  the  approaching 
summer,  on  which  occasion  Doctor  Morris,  of  Baltimore,  is  expected 
to  deliver  an  address. 

Soon  after  the  organization  of  the  Society  it  was  found  necessary  to 
have  some  permanent  record  to  facilitate  its  operations,  and  accordingly 
the  Journal  was  commenced.  It  has  already  reached  its  third  volume, 
and  has  thus  far  not  only  served  as  a  valuable  source  of  information  on 
many  branches  of  study  in  which  the  members  are  interested,  but  it  has 
likewise  proved  a  vehicle  of  pleasant  communication  with  those  wlio 
once  sojourned  in  the  College. 

The  efforts  of  the  Association  have  also  been  directed  to  the  im- 


PEiVN.  MED.  COLLEGE.  '  148 

provement  of  the  College  Campus,  to  beautifying  the  grounds  and  or- 
namenting the  avenues  with  trees  and  flower-girt  paths.  Tiirough  their 
laudable  exertions  a  substantial  road,  from  the  College  edifice  to  the 
town,  has  been  constructed,  which  contributes  so  much  to  the  con-^ 
venience  and  comfort  of  those  who  are  obliged  to  tfaverse  the  Via  Bene- 
dicla,  that  we  cannot  indeed  feel  too  grateful  to  the  Linnseans. 

Monthly  meetings  of  the  Association  are  held,  which  are  frequently 
enlivened  and  rendered  profitable  by  the  delivery  of  lectures  and  the 
reading  of  reports,  essays,  and  explanations  of  various  phenomena,  &c. 
Lectures  have  already  been  delivered  by  the  following  honorary  mem- 
bers of  the  Association  : 

President  Kkauth,  "On  the  nutritive  relations  of  the  animal  and  vegetable  king' 
dom  ;"  Prof.  Stoevee,  "The  practical  effects  which  the  labors  of  the  learned  have 
had  on  the  prosperity  and  happiness  of  mankind ;"  Prof.  Haupt,  "The  implements 
of  waif  are  and  the  modes  of  attack  and  defence ;"  Prof.  Hay,  "Glaciers ;"  Prof.  Rey- 
nolds, "TAe  Natural  History  of  man  ;"  Prof.  Schmucker,  "The Aborigines  of 
America." 

Dissertations  have  also  been  presented  by  the  following  active  mem- 
bers : 

J.  M.  Clement,  "The  Characteristics  of  the  age  ;"  M.  Diehl,  "Founerism;" 
P.  Anstatt,  "Unity  of  the  Human  Race ;"  A.  C.  Wedekind,  "The  Imagination;" 
G.  A.  NixDORFF,  "Universal  Progression  ;"  A.  Essick,  "The  influence  of  Science 
in  dispelling  superstilioii ;"  W.  A.  Renshaw,  "Early  History  of  Adams  County ;" 
W.  M.  Baum,  "The  influence  of  Study  on  the  development  of  Mind ;"  G.J.Martz, 
"Animal  Magnetism." 

The  following  gentlemen  constitute  the  Board  of  officers  : 
President,    John  G.  Morris,  D.  D. ;     1st  Vice  Pres.,    William  M. 
Baum  ;     2d  Vice  Pres.,  Augustus  C.  Wedekind  ;     Cor.  Sec,  Moses  R. 
Zimmerman ;     Rec.  Sec,  John  Jl.  S.  Tressler  ;    Treasurer,  Reuben  Jl. 
Fink ;     Curators,  John  K.  Plitt,   William  P.  Ruikrauff. 

All  our  friends,  we  are  confident,  will  unite  with  us  in  the  wish  tliat 
the  same  spirit  of  enterprise  may  continue  to  animate  the  Linnaeans — in 
the  hope  that  their  commendable  cflbrts  may  be  displayed  in  still  fur- 
ther improvements.  If  they  are  encouraged  by  the  success  which  has 
attended  their  past  endeavors,  may  they  find  new  motives  for  zealous 
exertions  in  the  fact,  that  much  more  remains  to  be  effected ;  may  they 
press  on,  adopting  as  their  motto  the  injunction  of  the  Roman  moralist : 
"Nil  actum  reputans,  si  quid  superesset  agendum." 


PENNSYLVANIA  MEDICAL  COLLEGE. 
The  Commencement  of  the    Medical  Department  of  Pennsylvania  College 
took  place  on  the  4th  ult.    The  public  papers  represent  the  exercises  of  the  occa- 
sion as  having  been  exceedingly  interesting  and  calculated  to  furnish  the  highest 
gratification  to  those  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  this  rising  school. 


144  A  Lixnn.VRY  fragment. 

The  degree  of"  Doctor  of  Medicine  was  conferred  upon  thirty-two,  who,  after 
passing  over  the  prescribed  course,  had  sustained  a  satisfactory  examination.  R, 
S.  Taliaferro,  of  Va.,  and  Jno.  Paddocii,  of  St.  Johns,  N.  B.  were  also  admitted  to 
the  honorary  degree  of  M.  D. 

Prof.  Atlee's  address  to  the  graduating  class,  "On  the  responsibilities  and  duties 
of  the  medical  profession,"  is  spoken  of  as  an  admirable  performance,  and  in  every 
way  worthy  of  the  high  reputation  which  the  author  enjoys. 

We  are  happy  to  learn  that  the  number  of  students  during  the  past  session 
was  larger  tlian  at  any  previous  period,  and  that  the  prospects  for  the  next  terra 
are  unusually  encouraging. 


A  LITERARY  FRAGMENT. 

Mr.  Editor — The  following  fragment  seems  to  have  slipped  out  of  the  archives  of  a  literary,  or 
at  least,  debating  society.    By  publishing  it,  you  will  afford  the  owners  an  opportunity  of  claiming 
it.    Its  publication  may  likewise  furnish  your  readers  encouraging  evidence  of  the  hitherto  undis- 
covered fact,  that  the  Augustan  age  of  classical  Latinity  is  about  to  be  revived,  wliich  is  certainly  ■ 
•a  matter  of  sincere  congratulation  to  all  lovers  of  the  muses. 

Yours,  truly. 

Congrediuniur,  deliberandi  speechificnndique  causa,  juvenes  mvlli,  valde  vociferanles. 
Praeses.     Orderum,  O  boies,  nunc  keepare  debetis — 
Eduardus.     Suntne,  Sir,  Mr.  President,  shamefulle  inebriati  ? 

Nondum  audiunt  vocem  quam  justnou  pronounceras  tu  ; 

Shoutere  nunc  velis  loudiiis  :  sunt  confoundedle  surdi.  [blohupam! 

Praeses.    (  Clamat  in  minim  modum.)  Orderum  jam  keepatote,  vos  nomscols,  ne  vos 

(Thv:ackat  mensam.)  Horresco  referens  quern  rumpum  iu  maek  hir  in  aula. 

Silence  nunc,  in  orderum  domus  veniat,  jam  hora  est. 

(Juvenes  iakunt  subsellia.     Praeses,  stans  rostra,  inquit.) 

Prohpndor!  Hushuppite  upioarium!    Tenete  nunc  tungas ! 

Et  tu,  Mr.  Scriba,  altii  voce  read  the  last  minutes. 
Scriba.     (Icfcit.)    Quaestio  fuit,  utram  nos  boies  debeant  Tutores 

Wbippere,  necne,  si  Icssonas  non  cognossemus. 

Censum  unanimiter  est,  quod  non,  desidedle  quod  non. 

Praeses  miilctavit  Joannem  Bawlerum  fippo. 

Quia  belloaverat  loudius,  objurgationes 

Pracsidis  non  mindans,  sed  altius  shockingle  hollerans. 

Blackmarkavimus  Bullum  obscrimen  pinchendi  naborem, 

Jamesum  Longofingarum  ejecimus,  eheu,  jam  sero. 

Quia  nostrorum  multos  libroruin  hookarat. 
Jamesus  Longofingarus.    Niim  me  furem  fecistis?    Meos  fingaros  hie  snappo 

Vobis  in  ora,  et  challenjo  vos  hoc  crimen  pruvare. 

Quo  pacto,  Sir,  Mr.  President,  sunt  hic  studentes  absentes 

Abusandi  et  sic  beliundi  ?    Sir,  ego  standere  caimo 

Suchum  insultum,  et  vobis  showebo  quod  nunc  geltetis. 

Ibo  pede  aequo  ad  Squienim  vos  prosecuturus. 
Jinlliis.     Non,  Sir,  pinchivi  naborem  :  falsa  dixistis, 

Estis  liari  omnes,  et  hic  vos  oinnes  defio. 
Jjuwlerus.     Quam  nonsensicam  rnulctam,  O  ninnii — 
Praeses.     Ohe  !    Silentium  nunc  tone,  0  tu  Bawlere,  cit<) — 
Bawlerus.  \   una    ^ — mulclam  vobis  payare?    Such'thingurn    nunqurim,  Sir, 

I    con-    I  '''"^'''■ 

Bulliis.  y       '    -{  — Blackmarkum  eradendum  est,  sen  ccrte  blackpincliam 

I    chi-     I  vos  omnes. 

Longofuigarus. )  mant.  J  — Waitite  alittel,  et  mox  constabuluin  cito  fetchabo. 

Cum  multo  uproario  concio  din  iinitur,  cumtuenditur,  et  exeunt  omnes,  horribile 

conclamitautes. 


Receipts  during  March. 


Kev.  John  Heck,  Waynesboro',  Pa. 

f  1  00  Vol. 

.  3 

Rev.  F.  A.  Barnitz,  Jersey  Shore,  Pa. 

1  00 

3 

Rev.  R.  H.  Ball,  Baltimore,  Md. 

1  00 

3 

Rev.  P.  Anstatt,  HoUidaysburg,  Pa. 

1  00 

3 

Rev.  T.  W.  Corbet,  Cambridge,  O. 

1  00 

3 

Rev.  C.  Relmensnyder,  Westminster,  Md. 

1  00 

3 

Rev.  J.  P.  B.  Sadtler,  Pinegrove,  Pa. 

1  00 

*> 

Rev.  H.  Wheeler,  Claverack,  N.  Y. 

1  00 

2 

Rev.  W.  B.  Rally,  Mt.  Eaton,  0. 

1  00 

3 

Henry  Deaver,  Petersville,  Md. 

1  00 

3 

C.  W.  Collier,  Georgetown,  D.  C. 

1  00 

3 

Wm.  Leiser,  Milton,  Pa. 

1  00 

3 

Peter  Aughinbaugh,  Gettysburg, 
Prof.  H.  Haupt, 

3  00 

1,2,3 

2  00 

2,3 

D.  M.  Smyser,  Esq. 

2  00 

2,3 

J.  B.  Danner,  Esq. 

2  00 

2,3 

John  S.  Hawk, 

1  00 

2 

Neinstedt  &,  Gillespie, 

1  00 

3 

Dr.  D.  Horner, 

3  00 

1,  2,3 

Dr.  John  Cox, 

1  00 

3 

Geo.  Critzman, 

50 

Wm.  Boyer, 

1  00 

2 

William  Ulrich, 

1  00 

3 

Alexander  N.  Breckenridge, 

1  00 

3 

John  Hossler, 

1  00 

3 

Christian  Diehl, 

1  00 

3 

A.  Essick, 

1  00 

S               I 

R.  R.  Wagenseller, 

1  00 

3              ) 

C.  J.  Ehrehart, 

1  00 

3             i 

Peter  Born, 

1  00 

3 

Daniel  Garver, 

1  00 

8 

G.  B.  Kelly, 

1  00 

3 

Jacob  H.  Heck, 

1  00 

3 

Anderson  Ellis, 

1  00 

3 

J.  A.  Bradshawe, 

2  00 

3,    2  copies 

J.  K.  Plitt, 

1  00 

3 

J.  C.  Badham, 

1  00 

3 

D.  W.  Badham, 

1  00 

3 

L.  F.  Melsheimer, 

1  00 

3 

C.  E.  Weldy, 

1  00 

3 

D.  J.  Barrick. 

1  00 

3 

L.  E.  Albert, 

1  00 

3 

Frederick  A.  Schmucker,   « 

1  00 

3 

To  SuBscKiBEKS. — The  promptness,  with  whichmany  of  our  friends 
have  paid  their  subscriptions  to  the  Record  and  Journal,  certainly  calls 
for  an  expression  of  our  gratitude.  And  should  this  notice  meet  the 
eye  of  any  one  who  is  still  delinquent,  we  should  be  very  glad  if  he 
would  be  influenced  by  their  example.  We  are  under  additional  obliga- 
tions to  the  printer  every  month,  and  unless  our  friends  are  prompt,  we 
shall  be  unable  to  meet  them.  The  number  of  subscribers  is  so  limit- 
ed that  wc  cannot  let  one  off  without  doing  ourselves  an  injury. 


I     PmnsDlDania  (HolUgc,  ©cttijsbitrg,  |)a. 

I  FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 

^  C.  P.  Kraoth,  D.  D.— President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Eel.,  Ethics,  Sfc. 

\  Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 

<  Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechanical  Philos. 

<  Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 

<  M.  L.  Stoever,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 
\  Rev.  C.  A.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Literature. 

^  H.  Haupt,  a.  M. —  Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Draioing  and  French. 
j  D.  GiLEEE-T,  A.  M.,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  Jnatomy  and  Physiology. 
t-3.  G.  Morris.  D.  D. — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 

<  A.  EssicK. —  Tutor. 
\3.  K.  ViATT.— Tutor. 

i  Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  fifteen  years.  Dur- $ 
^  jng  this  time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta-  \ 
,'  lions  of  its  friends.  The  course  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that; 
\  of  any  Institution  in  the  Country.  The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  in- 1 
;.  struction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thorough  English,  business  education,  in  addition  | 

<  to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics  and  Classical  Literature.  The  College  Course  i 
I  is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  country.  i 
5  The  government  of  the  students  is  as  energetic  as  their  circumstances  seem  to! 
^  require.     They  attend  three  recitations  a  day.  Church  and  Bible  Class  on  th  Sab-  \ 

<  bath,  and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  danger  of  J 
5  any  eieat  irregularities.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College  Edifice,  I 
I  special  cases  excepted.  | 
',  The  annual  expenses  are^ — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winters 
j  session,  J(S63  62i :  lor  the  summer  session,  .f43  12 i.     Washing,  #10  00;  and  Wood, 

J  ^3  00.  Total  expense,  .^119  75.  Boarding  can  be  obtaineain  town  at  $1  25  per  < 
I  week.  I 

I  There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of  J 
I  April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance.  < 

i  The  .vinter  session  closes  on  the  i5th  inst.,  and  after  the  vacation  of  five  weelss  > 
]  the  summer  session  commences  on  the  20th  day  of  May.  < 


SDonotions  to  (Cabinet.  | 

j  I.     From  /.  P.  Lower,  Philadelphia  Mint,  per  Prof.  Gilbert,  two  Medals,  one,  > 

i  a  representation  of  George  II.  ;  the  other,  of  the  burning  of  Kittanning,  by  Col.  ] 
;  Armstrong.  i 

;  2.  —  Rev.  W.  A.  Passavant,  Pittsburg,  per  Prof.   Stoever,  the  Lord's  Prayer  > 

'  in  Chinese.  ^ 

/  3.  —  .7.  Hock,  Pinegrove,  Pa.  Pebbles  from  Fort  Mackinaw.  ^ 

I  4.  —  V.  L.  Conrad,  supposed  Sole  of  a  Sandal  (petrified,)  found  near  the  [ 
',  Dead  Sea.  \ 

\  5.  —  Geo.  W.  Martin,  of  the  Army  in  Mexico,   a  lot  of  Shells,  from  Brazos  ] 

{  Island — a  large  Citron,  from  the  garden  of  Gen.  Arista,  Monterry — a  beautiful  Mex-  \ 
!  lean  Powder-horn— three  packs  of  Mexican  Segars— a  Mexican  Lasso— a  purse  I 
5  made  by  a  Mexican  female.  \ 

fi.  ' —  .T.  A.  Bradshawe ,  one  English  Coin.  i 

7.  —  P.  Born,  seventy-three  Specimens  of  pressed  Plants,  also  a  Coin.  s 


?!Ilonation  to  Cibraro. 

Proceedings  of  the  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences  of  Philadelphia,  for  Novem- 
ber and  December,  1847 — From  the  Academy. 

I .. -     - 

i  - 

^         Terms  OF  THE  Record  AND  JouRXAL.    One  Dollar  per  ammm 

I    in  advance. 

\       Address — '■'•Editors  of  the  Record  a/nd  Journal,  Gettysburg,  Pa.'*'' 


/^ 


-^^'^ 


vor.UME  III.] 


Tnumber  7. 


THE 


LITERARr   REGQBD   AND  JOURNAL 

MAY  .    J  8 17. 


CONDI CTED 

Bl>  a  orommCltee  oC  tUe  ^ssoctsttou. 


CONTENTS. 


PE.NNSVLVAMA  COLLEGE, 

NUTRITION,         -  -  -  -  - 

THE  MO.VSTER  CASKS  Of   HElDELffERG, 


145 

149 
157 


SKETCHES  OF  A  RESIDENCE  I.\   THE  SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS,  160 

LATIN-ENGLISH,                   _..---  166 

LITERARY  WORLD,                   ------  ib 

COLLEGE  RECORD  —  BIBLE   SOCIETY,             .             -            -  167 

LITERARY  CONTEST,                --«,--  168 


\\   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  1\  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


m 


3 
> 


[Ll] 


THE  LITERARY 


OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 


VoL'.  III.  MAY,  1847.  No.  7. 


PE>fNSYLV^\JNiIA  COLLEGE. 

We  are  indebted  to  the  politeness  of  D.  A.  Buehler,  A.  M.,  Editor 
of  the  Gettysburg  Star,  for  the  cut  of  the  College  edifice  which  we  have 
placed  on  the  opposite  page.  The  impression  is  regarded  as  a  correct 
one,  except  that  the  small  building  on  the  eastern  end  of  the  College 
has  not  yet  been  erected — the  one  on  the  western  side  is  the  LinncBan 
Hall,  the  corner-stone  of  which  was  laid  last  Summer  by  the  Hon.  James 
Cooper. 

The  College  edifice  is  a  chaste  specimen  of  the  Doric  order  of  archi- 
tecture, consistingof  a  centre  buildingand  two  wings,  with  end  projections. 
The  whole  length  is  150  feet.  The  building  is  four  stories  high,  with 
blocking  course  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  resting  upon  a  heavy  cornice 
around  the  entire  building.  On  the  centre  is  placed  an  octagonal  cupola 
18s  feet  in  diameter  and  24  feet  high,  with  an  observatory  on  its  top. 
The  entire  front  of  the  centre  buikhng  (46  feet)  is  occupied  by  a  portico 
consisting  of  four  fluted  columns  four  feet  in  diameter  at  their  bases,  and 
22^  feet  high,  resting  on  abutments  brought  up  to  a  level  with  the  floor 
of  the  second  story.  On  these  columns  rests  an  appropriate  entablature, 
together  with  the  roof,  cornice  and  blocking  course  of  the  centre  building. 
The  portico  projects  14  feet  from  the  centre  building,  and  is  made  acces- 
sible on  the  outside  by  a  flight  of  steps  equal  in  width  to  its  whole  front. 
The  edifice  is  composed  of  brick,  and  the  whole  exterior  is  painted  white. 
The  building,  besides  a  hall  of  1 1  feet  width  from  front  to  rear  in  the 
centre  building  on  the  second  floor,  and  corridors  on  every  floor,  the 
entire  length  of  the  building,  contains  seventy-five  apartments  or  rooms, 
fifty-four  of  which  are  designed  for  the  use  of  students — the  remainder 
are  a  College  Hall  (42  by  22  feet,)  and  a  Library  of  the  same  size,  two 
rooms  for  the  Literary  Societies,  each  43  by  19,  on  the  fourth  story,  six 
Recitation  rooms,  Refectory,  together  with  the  necessary  apartments  for 
the  Steward  and  family. 
19 


146  PEN.V.  COLLEGE. 

History. — Pennsylvania  College  had  its  origin  in  the  wants  of  the 
German  portion  of  the  community.  A  Theological  Seminary,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Lutheran  Cliurch,  having  commenced  operations  in  Get- 
tysburg in  the  year  1826,  it  was  soon  discovered  that  another  institution 
was  neces.sary,  in  which  young  men  designed  for  the  Gospel  ministry 
might  receive  Academic  training.  Accordingly  in  June,  1827,  a  Classi- 
cal School  was  established  under  the  direction  of  the  Rev.  D.  Jacobs, 
A.  M.,  and  in  April,  1829,  a  Scientific  department  was  connected  with  it 
under  the  care  of  his  brother,  the  present  Professor  of  Natural  Science. 
In  the  Summer  of  1829,  the  plan  of  the  institution  having  been  enlarged 
and  its  facilities  increased,  the  name  was  changed  to  that  of  the  Gethjs- 
hurg  Gymnasium.  The  Institution  was,  however,  speedily  called  to 
mourn  the  death  of  him,  whose  qualifications  seemed  so  well  adapted  to 
the  important  station  to  which  he  had  been  invited,  and  whose  brief  ca- 
reer justified  the  formation  of  high  expectations  in  reference  to  his  fu- 
ture success.  He  discharged  the  duties  of  his  oflice  with  untiring  fidel- 
ity, until  he  became  the  victim  of  disease,  and  was  compelled  to  relin- 
quish his  post,  to  travel  South  in  search  of  health.  When  retracing  his 
steps  he  had  almost  reached  his  native  place,  his  frame  gradually  gave 
way  and  he  breathed  his  last  in  Shepherdstovvn,  Va.,  lamented  by  the 
Church,  and  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him.  In  consequence  of  the 
death  of  Rev.  D.  Jacobs,  in  November,  1830,  its  classical  department 
was  vacant,  except  by  temporary  supplies,  until  April,  1831,  when  Rev. 
H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M.,  was  appointed  to  take  charge  of  that  department. 

As  the  number  of  students  had  considerably  increased,  and  the  pros- 
pects for  more  extended  usefulness  were  very  promising,  it  was  deemed 
expedient  to  place  the  institution  upon  a  more  permanent  basis,  by  en- 
larging its  operations  and  organizing  the  Gymnasium  into  a  Collegiate 
form.  Application  was,  therefore,  made  to  the  Legislature  for  a  charter, 
which  was  obtained  in  April,  1832;  and  during  the  ensuing  Summer,  on 
the  4th  of  July,  the  Institution  was  organized  under  the  title  of  "Pennsyl- 
vania College."  On  which  occasion  an  appropriate  address  was  deliv- 
ered by  the  Hon.  Calvin  BIythe.  We  suppose  the  subjoined  brief  ex- 
tract from  the  address  will  be  read  with  interest,  as  the  success  of  the 
College  has  more  than  realized  the  predictions  of  the  orator : 

"The  Institution  organized  this  day,there  is  every  reason  to  believe,  will  prove 
a  valuable  auxiliary  in  the  great  cause  of  education.  Located  in  a  healthy  coun- 
try, in  the  midst  of  an  active  and  intelligent  people,  under  the  direction  of  men  of 
approved  learning  and  ability,  it  may  with  confidence  be  predicted  that  it  will  re- 
ceive, as  it  assuredly  will  deserve,  the  public  patronage." 

On  the  same  day  the  patrons  of  the  College  assembled  and  .selected 
the  followinof 


PENN.  COLLEGE.  147 

Board  of  Trustees. 

Hon.  Calvin  Blythe,  President;  J.  G.  Morris,  D.  D.,  Secretary; 
J.  B.  McPherson,  Esq.,  Treasurer ;  Hon.  A.  Thompson,  LL.  D.,  J.  G, 
Schraucker,  D.  D.,  D.  F.  Schaeffer,  D.  D.,  J.  C.  Baker,  D.  D.,  Rev.  A. 
Reck,  Hon.  D.  Sheffer,  Rev.  C.  F.  Heyer,  M.  D.,  E.  L.  Hazelius,  D.  D., 
S.  S.  Schraucker,  D.  D.,  R.  G.  Harper,  Esq.,  Hon.  T.  C.  Miller,  .T.  F. 
Macfarlane,  Esq.,  C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D.,  Rev.  J.  Ruthrauff,  Rev.  J.  Med- 
tard,  B.  Kurtz,  D.  D.,  Rev.  Emanuel  Keller,  Rev.  A.  H.  Lochman. 
In  the  evening  the  Board  of  Trustees  met  andorganized  the  following 

Faculty. 

S.  S.  Schmucker,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Intellectual  Philosophy  and 
Moral  Science  ;  E.  L.  Hazelius,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  the  Latin  Lan- 
guage and  German  Literature  ;  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  the 
Greek  Language  and  Belles- Lettres ;  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M.,  Professor  of 
Mathematics^  Chemistry  and  JVatural  Philosophy ;  J.  H.  Marsden,  A.  M., 
Professor  of  Mineralogy  and  Botany. 

Whilst  we  record  the  early  history  of  the  College,  we  cannot  ex- 
press our  obligations  too  strongly  to  those  who,  from  the  very  begin- 
ning, toiled  for  its  advancement,  and  with  a  noble  perseverance  labored, 
through  difficulties  and  discouragements,  to  uphold  its  interests. 

In  consequence  of  their  duties  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  Doctors 
Schmucker  and  Hazelius  having  consented  to  aid  in  tlie  instruction  only 
until  other  appointments  could  be  made,  in  the  Fall  of  1833,  the  Institu- 
tion was  enabled  to  dispense  with  their  services,  which  had  been  kindly 
and  gratuitously  rendered,  by  the  election  of  C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D.,  of 
Philadelphia,  to  the  Professorship  of  Moral  and  Intellectual  Science.  In 
the  Spring  of  1834,  Doctor  Krauth  was  appointed  to  the  Presidency  of 
the  College,  and  at  the  commencement  of  the  Winter  Session  was  in- 
ducted into  his  office.  Subsequently  the  corps  of  instructors  was  filled 
by  the  appointment  of  Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds',  A.  M.,  who  had  for  some 
time  previously  been  officiating  as  Principal  of  the  Preparatory  Depart- 
ment, to  the  chair  of  Latin  Language  and  Literature. 

During  the  winter  of  1833-4,  through  the  noble  and  disinterested 
efforts  of  our  representative  in  the  State  Legislature,  the  enlightened  pa- 
tron of  education,  Hon.  Thaddeus  Stevens,  an  appropriation  of  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  was  procured  for  the  College.  This  donation  dispelled 
at  once  all  fears  with  regard  to  the  success  of  the  Institution.  It  was  a 
day  of  great  rejoicing,  when  the  intelligence  reached  us,  that  Governor 
Wolf  who,  from  the  first,  evinced  a  deep  interest  in  the  Institution,  and 
recommended  in  his  message  to  the  Legislature  appropriation.*  in  behalf 
of  the  Germans,  had  signed  the  bill.     The  students  celebrated  the  joy- 


148  TENS.  COLLEGE. 

ful  event  with  illuminations  and  music,  and  all  felt  that  a  new  era  had 
commenced.  This  appropriation  enabled  the  Trustees  to  erect  an  edi- 
fice more  suitable  than  the  Academy,  for  the  enlarged  operations  of  the 
School.  In  the  year  1836  the  building  was  commenced,  and  in  the  Au- 
tumn of  1837,  it  was  sufficiently  advanced  to  admit  of  its  occupancy  by 
a  part  of  the  students. 

In  consequence  of  the  increasing  prosperity  of  the  Institution  and 
the  annual  appropriation  of  one  thousand  dollars,  for  several  years  grant- 
ed by  the  State  to  this,  in  common  with  the  other  Colleges  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, the  Trustees  were  enabled  to  extend  the  facilities  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge,  by  the  appointment  of  an  additional  instruct- 
or. Accordingly  in  the  autumn  of  1838,  Rev.  H.  I.  Smith,  A.  M.  was 
elected  Professor  of  German  Language  and  Literature,  History  and 
French.  In  1843,  Prof.  Smith,  having  been  called  to  preside  over  an 
Institution  in  the  North,  this  Professorship  became  vacant.  In  1843, 
M.  L.  Stoever,  A.  M.,  who  had,  for  some  time  before,  been  at  the  head 
of  the  Academical  Department,  was  appointed  Professor  of  History. 
Instruction  in  the  German  was,  as  previously,  again  given  by  one  of  the 
other  Professors,  until  the  Winter-term  of  1844,  when  Rev.  C.  A.  Hay, 
A.  ]M.  entered  \ipon  the  duties  of  that  Department,  In  the  spring  of 
1845,  the  number  of  instructors  was  still  further  increased  by  the  ap- 
pointment of  H.  Haupt,  A.  M.  as  adjunct  Professor  of  Mathematics. 

Vacancies  in  the  Board  of  Trustees  have  at  different  times  since  the 
organization  of  the  College  been  supplied  by  the  election  of  the  follow- 
ing individuals  :  W.  G.  Ernst,  D.  D.,  Rev.  D.  Gottwald,  T.  Stevens, 
Esq.,  Dr.  D.  Gilbert,  T.  J.  Cooper,  Rev.  J.  Oswald,  A.  M.,  Rev.  B.  Keller, 
Rev.  J.  N.  Hoflman,  Rev.  C.  F.  Schaefler,  S.  T.  P.,  S.  Fahnestock,  S.  H. 
Buehler. 

In  tiie  spring  of  1844  a  new  Board  was  constituted,  consisting  of 
the  following  gentlemen  :  J.  B.  'M.''Pherson,  President ;  Prof  D.  Gil- 
bert, M.  D.  Secretary  ;  S.  H.  Buehler,  Treasurer  ;  C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D., 
S.  S.  Schmucker,  D.  D.,  S.  T.  P.,  J.  G.  Morris,  D.  D.,  Rev.  J.  Ruthraufi', 
Rev.  A.  H.Lochman,  A.  M.,  R.  G.Harper,  Hon. T.Stevens,  S. Fahnestock, 
F.  Smith,  A.  :\I.,  D.  Horner,  U.  D.,  Rev.  J.  Few  Smith,  A.  M.,  Hon.  M. 
M'Clean,  Isaac  Baugher,  Rev.  C.  W.  SchaefTer,  A.  M.,  C.  A.  Morris,  Rev. 
F.  W.  Conrad,  Rev.  J.  UlricH,  A.  M.,  D.  H.  Swope. 

The  Institution  has  now  been  chartered  fifteen  years.  During  this 
time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions of  its  friends. 

Tlie  annexed  table  v.'ill  show  the  average  number  of  .students  in  at- 
tendance during  the  lubl  ten  years  : 


NUTRITIOX. 

Year. 

Nmiiber  of  StuJi 

•nts, 

Year. 

Numli 

er  of  Stuiiont.--. 

1837, 

104 

1842, 

175 

1838, 

123 

1843, 

130 

1839, 

141 

1844, 

142 

1S40, 

158 

1S45, 

148 

1841, 

189 

♦ 

1846, 

193 

149 


The  provision  at  present  made  for  instruction  and  the  extent  of  the 
course  may  be  seen  in  the  following  list  of  instructors  and  their  respec- 
tive departments  : 

C.  P.  Krauth,  D.  D.,  President^  and  Professor  of  the  Evidences  of 
JVatural  and  Revealed  Religion,  Political  Philosophy  and  Ethics ;  Rev. 
H.  L.  Baugher,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  Greek  Language  and  Literature, 
Rhetoric  and  Oratory ;  Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  Mathema- 
tics, Chemistry,  and  Mechanical  Philosophy ;  Rev.  VV.  M.  Reynolds,  A. 
M.,  Professor  of  Latin  Language  and  Literature,  Mental  Philosophy 
and  Logic  ;  M.  L.  Stoevet,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  History  and  Principal 
of  the  Prejoaratory  Department;  Rev.  C.  A.  Hay,  A.  M,  Professor  of 
German  Language  and  Literature  ;  H.  Haupt,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  Ma- 
ihematics,  Drawing  and  French  ;  D.  Gilbert,  A.  M.  xM.  D.,  Lecturer  on 
Anatomy  and  Physiology ;  J.  G.  Morris,  D.  D.,  Lecturer  on  Zoology  ; 
Messrs.  A.  Essick  and  J.  K.  Plitt,  Tutors  in  the  Preparatory  Dejmrt- 
ment. 


NUTRITIVE  RELATIONS  OF  THE  ANIMAL  AND  VEGETABLE  KINGDOMS. 

The  objects  of  the  universe  may  present  themselves  as  they  are 
without  their  relations  to  other  things.  If  we  examine  them  thus  de- 
tached, they  may  furnish  very  interesting  materials  for  reflection  and 
gratification.  Their  properties  both  numerous  and  striking,  cannot  fail 
to  interest  us.  The  intelligence  they  display  solicits  our  homage  to  the 
great  Author  of  them.  When  they  are  viewed  in  their  relations  to  other 
things,  they  are  still  more  adapted  to  arrest  our  attention,  and  call  forth 
our  admiration.  The  adaptation  of  diiferent  parts  of  the  creation  to 
each  other  is  so  obvious  that  it  was  soon  ascertained,  and  extensively 
understood.  It  is  true  that  the  views  derived  from  a  general  contempla- 
tion were  neither  very  clear  nor  very  profound.  In  many  instances 
where  the  general  fact  of  an  intimate  connection,  a  close  dependence, 
could  not  be  overlooked,  it  was  very  imperfectly  understood  what  was 
the  precise  influence  exerted,  or  the  effect  beyond  its  most  general  as- 
pects. As  an  illustration  we  may  mention  the  subject  of  respiration . 
Tha^  the  atmosphere  which  encompasses  our  globe  was  necessary  to 
animallife,  men  were  not  long  in  finding  out.     It  was  soon  known  that 


1-50  ^LIRITIO.N. 

SO  close  is  the  bearing  of  the  one  upon  the  other  that  without  it  it  could 
not  exist.  Breathing  by  means  of  an  elastic  fluid  surrounding  us,  and 
life,  were  nearly  or  quite  synonomous.  Whilst  breath — to  use  an  ordi- 
nary mode  of  speaking — continues,  there  is  life;  when  breathing  ceases, 
death  ensues.  When  the  breath  has  gone  out  of  a  man,  according  to 
the  vulgar  mode  of  speaking,  the  vital  spark  has  fled,  and  over  his  once 
active  and  animated  frame  reigns  universal  and  irremediable  paralysis. — 
When  man  was  formed  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  he  was  at  first  but  a 
statue  wonderfully  constructed,  but  lifeless  and  voiceless  ;  but  when  the 
Almighty  Creator  whose  plastic  hand  had  framed  him,  breathed  into  his 
nostrils  the  breath  of  life,  then  he  became  a  living  soul.  And  as  breath- 
ing gave  motion  to  his  blood,  and  fitted  it  to  support  his  frame,  waked 
up  the  nervous  energy  of  his  system,  and  rendered  his  spirit  receptive 
of  impressions  through  the  quickened  senses  of  its  clay  vehicle,  so  it 
is  the  same  that  upholds  all  these  phenomena  as  long  as  they  appear. 

But  although  this  was  known,  known  to  every  body,  to  the  savage 
as  well  as  to  the  philosopher,  what  did  they  know  more  than  the  sim- 
ple fact?  Nothing — absolutely  nothing.  That  they  attempted  to  know 
more,  we  are  aware,  but  their  speculations  were  fruitless,  and  when  in 
their  results  compared  with  the  approximations  to  the  truth  characteris- 
tic of  a  later,  of  a  recent  age,  they  appear  to  us,  as  they  are,  ineffably 
absurd. 

If  we  look  at  the  philosophy  of  breathing  as  exhibited  in  the  pages 
of  ancient  writers,  it  wuU  be  evident  that  they  were  as  wide  of  the  mark 
as  possible.  The  great  Plato,  who  was  so  unrivaled  in  his  capacity  to 
dress  up  his  thougths  in  splendid  language,  and  to  throw  over  them  the 
drapery  of  the  finest  rhetoric,  in  his  great  work  on  the  Creation,  the 
Timaeus,  tells  us  very  gravely,  that  the  lungs  are  a  kind  of  auxiliary  to 
the  heart.  They  are  soft  and  bloodless,  they  are  like  a  sponge,  perfo- 
rated with  holes,  they  are  recipient  of  air  and  drink — their  design  is  to 
cool  the  heart  from  too  great  heat,  and  placed  around  this  organ,  they 
are  «/,«.£<  jm,64Akjc<sv,  and  they  assuage  anger. 

In  an  interesting  work  of  the  celebrated  German  Reformer,  Melanch- 
thon,  entitled  Dc  Jhii?ua,  he  discourses  thus  about  the  lungs.  They  af- 
ford two  advantages  to  the  heart,  one  is  to  carry  to  it  air,  to  refrigerate  it 
and  the  spirits,  but  they  prepare  the  air  first,  they  temper  it,  or  it  would 
injure,  they  give  an  opportunity  of  exhaling  fumes,  which,  not  thus  elim- 
inated, would  oppress  it.  They  are  large  in  order  to  contain  a  suff^icient 
quantity  of  air  to  admit  of  the  temporary  suspension  of  breathing.  Just 
before  the  Lavoiserian  Chemistry  look  the  field,  the  views  of  physiolo- 
gists seemed  to  be  that  there  was  some  chemical  change  not  well  un- 


.\UTIUTIOX.  15  i 

derstood  in  the  blood  eflectcd  by  breathing,  mephitic  air  was  discharged, 
and  heat  engendered  by  some  phlogistic  process. 

So  the  relation  of  the  vegetable  to  the  animal  kingdom,  and  particu- 
larly as  a  nutritive  agent,  vvas  understood  and  yet  very  inadequately.  It 
was  very  easy  to  learn  that  animal  life  depends  upon  vegetable  life,  or 
the  products  of  vegetable  life  either  mediately,  or  immediately,  but  be- 
yond the  general  fact,  what  was  known  ?  More  we  may  admit  than  in 
the  other  case,  and  yet  mankind  had  to  wait  till  a  comparatively  late  pe- 
riod of  the  world's  history  to  receive  anything  like  comprehensive  and 
clear  views  on  the  subject. 

The  question  has  been  agitated,  very  much  agitated,  what  is  the 
proper  kind  of  food  for  man  }  Some  have  maintained  that  man  is  herb- 
ivorous, others,  that  he  is  carnivorous,  and  others  again,  that  he  is  om- 
nivprous,  or  better,  that  he  is  polyphagous. 

Originally  he  seemed  to  have  been  herbivorous,  he  became  after  the 
flood,  by  an  additional  grant,  carnivorous,  and  adding  the  one  to  the 
other,  he  has  remained  polyphagous.  The  solution  of  questions  of 
this  kind — not  difficult  on  anatomical  and  physiological  grounds — is 
facilitated  by  an  acquaintance  such  as  modern  chemistry  furnishes  us 
with  the  real  principles  of  nutrition  in  the  different  species  of  food.  The 
facts  furnished  bearing  on  this  point  are  numerous  and  satisfactory,  and 
taking  considerable  interest  in  them,  both  as  a  matter  of  science,  and  as 
illustrating  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  our  Great  Creator,  we  propose 
to  present  some  remarks  on  the  nutrient  relations  of  the  animal  and 
vegetable  kingdoms  of  nature. 

The  first  inquiry  that  we  institute  is  :  What  is  necessary  for  the 
support  of  animal  life  ? 

That  animal  life  has  no  self-supporting  power,  and  that  it  is  not  in- 
dependent of  external  influences,  it  Avould  be  the  merest  truism  to  as- 
sert. Animal  bodies  are  so  constituted  that  they  need  continual  appli- 
ances, and  of  a  very  gross  character,  at  any  rate  in  their  primary  forms, 
to  keep  them  in  action. 

The  Brunonian  theory  is,  no  doubt,  correct,  if  not  too  minutely 
scanned,  that  life  is  a  forced  state.  It  is  a  flame  that  requires  periodical 
supplies  of  fuel  to  keep  it  up,  and  it  may  be  incidentally  mentioned 
whilst  the  figurative  representation  is  before  us,  that  the  vegetable  world 
in  the  one  case,  we  mean  real  combustion,  as  in  the  other,  is  the  great 
source  of  the  process. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  stop  to  inquire  why  this  is  so,  why  this  de- 
pendence exists.  It  was  certainly  not  necessary,  that  is,  God  could  have 
made  animal  bodies  to  run  a  fixed  course  without  tliis  dependence,  but  he 


152  NUTRITION. 

has  not  done  so,  and  had  he,  it  would  have  so  modified  our  world  as  to 
make  it  exceedingly  different  from  what  it  is.  It  would  be  easy  to  show 
the  mighty  influence  both  upon  organized  matter  and  upon  spirit — the 
great  moral  and  probationary  results  of  this  arrangement,  but  natural 
as  it  is  for  us  to  glide  into  such  representations,  and  congenial  as  they 
are  to  the  best  feelings  of  the  heart — we  forbear.  We  and  other  animahs 
become  exhausted,  our  systems  disintegrate,  they  lose,  they  need  as  the 
consequence  the  restoration  of  vigor  and  the  restoration  of  the  materials 
which  have  passed  away.  Tlie  restoration  of  these,  the  replacing  of 
what  is  lost  constitutes  nutrition — or  the  great  process  of  animal  bodies 
called  assimilation. 

Then,  in  addition  there  is  needed  for  animal  bodies  the  elements  of 
various  products,  the  result  of  a  most  extraoidinary  chemistry  denomi- 
nated secretions. 

Then,  there  is  needed  a  supply  of  heat.  This  is  essential  to  animal 
life.  Tlien  there  is  needed  some  antidotal  remedy  for  noxious  develop- 
ments. Then  there  are  needed  resources,  auxiliary  in  cases  of  exigency. 
Then  there  are  needed  defecating  and  purifying  processes.  We  state  these 
things  in  general  terms,  expecting  to  make  them  clearer  in  the  course  of 
our  remarks.  ^ 

We  institute  the  inquiry,  how  is  this  aliment  furnished,  and  what 
are  the  arrangements  for  these  subsidiary  processes  .'  It  is  furnished 
first,  and  chiefly  by  the  vegetable  world.  Nutritive  agency  commences 
here — it  appropriates  however,  to  itself,  without  materially  changing  its 
character,  a  portion  of  the  animal  world.  Allying  with  itself  the  crea- 
ture of  its  power,  it  marches  forward,  under  God,  suspending  the  reign 
of  death,  till  He  who  commissioned  it,  saith  :  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go 
and  no  farther." 

What  is  it,  however,  in  vegetables  and  animals  that  imparts  to  them 
their  power  ?  Can  we  penetrate  into  their  interior  and,  by  a  successful 
analysis  ascertaining  their  constituents,  show  the  relation  of  those  con- 
stituents- to  the  animal  processes  of  which  we  speak  ?  It  is  the  boast 
of  modern  chemistry  that  we  can,  and  to  a  German  chemist,  who  now 
enjoys  a  reputation  co-extensive  with  the  civilized  world,  we  mean  Lie- 
big,  are  we  indebted  for  much  of  the  knowledge  we  possess.  Far  be  it 
from  us  to  sanction  every  view  of  this  justly  celebrated  man  ;  he  has,  no 
doubt,  in  some  instances  permitted  theory  to  run  ahead  of  facts,  he  has 
not  always  avoided  the  fault  of  too  hasty  generalization,  but  with  every 
abatement  of  this  kind,  enough  remains  ascertained  beyond  the  shadow 
of  doubt,  to  justify  his  endorsement  as  a  great  Chemist,  and  a  success- 


NUTRITIO\.  1,53 

ful  explorer  of  the  recondite  operations  of  the  economy  of  animated 
existences. 

It  is  not  furnished  exclusively  by  the  vegetable  kingdom — animals 
are  likewise  employed  in  the  suppoit  of  animal  life.  Not  only  man, 
but  other  animals  use,  and  with  advantage,  the  flesh  of  animals  to  up- 
hold the  nutritive  operations  of  their  systems,  and  to  supply  the  source 
of  the  various  chemical  combinations,  which  subserve  most  important 
ends  in  animal  life. 

The  other  function  is  sustained  by  the  atmosphere  and  byproducts 
of  the  animal  powers. 

We  now  institute  another  inquiry,  which  we  express  in  the  lan- 
guage— what  is  the  difference  between  vegetable  and  animal  food  ? 
Strange  as  it  may  appear,  there  is  no  difference.  We  mean,  considered 
as  nutritive  agents,  they  are  essentially  the  same,  and  make  the  same 
contributions  under  digestive  influences  to  the  common  stock  of  animal 
deposites.  To  divest  our  assertion  of  the  air  of  extravagance,  and  to 
make  it  as  palpable  as  possible,  we  ask  chemistry  dressed  in  the  brilliant 
habiliments  with  which  she  has  lately  been  appareled  to  appear,  and  du- 
ly qualified  to  render  a  true  account  of  what  she  knows,  touching  this 
thing.  Conservative  of  no  secret — open  as  day — she  reveals  to  us,  in  a 
clear  voice,  and  intelligible  terms,  the  following  facts  : 

Condensing  her  words,  it  appears  that  the  organic  part  of  plants 
consists  essentially  of  four  classes  of  substances.  The  cellular  substance, 
or  woody  fibre,  starch,  gum,  and  sugar,  gluten,  albumen,  avenine,  legu- 
min,  oil,  or  fat.  Now  when  we  look  at  the  soft  parts  of  the  body,  in- 
deed the  entire  combustible  part,  says  a  writer  in  the  North  British  Re- 
view in  an  interesting  notice  on  Chemistry  in  its  relations  to  agriculture, 
it  consists  essentially  of  three  substances,  or  more  correctly  of  three 
groups  of  analogous  substances. 

a.  The  cellular  substance,  which  pervades  and  forms  the  outline  of 
the  whole  body.  When  the  skins  of  animals  are  boiled,  a  jelly  is  ob- 
tained, to  which  the  name  of  glue  is  generally  given  ;  by  chemists  it  is 
called  gelatin.  When  the  cartilages  of  young  bones  are  boiled,  they 
also  yield  a  jelly,  differing  in  some  degree  from  the  former,  and  to 
which  the  name  chondrin  is  given.  In  a  solid  state,  these  compounds 
form  the  substance  and  cells  and  vessels  of  the  animal  body. 

b.  The  muscular  fibre,  which  forms  the  fleshy  parts  of  the  body. 
If  a  piece  of  flesh,  lean  mutton'  or  beef,  be  washed  for  a  length  of  time 
in  a  stream  of  water,  the  blood  will  be  removed,  and  a  white  fibrous 
substance  will  remain,  which  is  the  pure  fibre  of  the  muscle,  more  or 
less  mixed  with   fat.     The   white  of  the  egg  (albumen,)  and  the  pure 

20 


1-54  NUTRITION. 

curd  of  milk,  called  by  chemists,  Casein,  are  analagous  to  muscular 
fibre.  They  are  all  analagous,  also,  to  the  gluten  and  legumin  of  wheat 
and  other  grains,  and,  like  them,  contain  fifteen  per  cent,  of  nitrogen, 
and  a  little  sulphur  or  phosphorus,  or  both. 

c.  The  fat,  which  in  an  animal  in  good  condition,  forms  nearly  one- 
third  of  the  weight  of  the  soft  parts  of  the  body.  It  is  very  analogous 
— in  some  cases  absolutely  identical — with  the  fatty  matter  of  the  vege- 
table food.     Comparing  the  organic  parts  of  both  we  have 

In  the  plant,  Animal, 

1.  Cellular  substance,  1.  Cellular  substance — Gelatine,  Chondrin, 

2.  Gluten,  Albumen,  &c.  2.  Febrin,  albumen, 

3.  Fatty  matter,  3.  Fatty  matter. 

4.  Starch,  gum  sugar. 

This  comparison  shows  us,  that  in  both  animals  and  vegetables  there  is 
a  cellular  substance  performing  analogous  functions  in  each,  though  of 
unlike  composition — that  in  both  there  are  substances,  gluten  and  fibrin, 
which  are  almost  identical ;  the  fats,  which  are  often  absolutely  identi- 
cal— and  that  the  only  marked  difference  between  them  consists  in  the 
large  quantity  of  starch,  &c.  which  is  present  in  vegetable  food. 

We  can  now  understand  what  are  the  functions  which  the  plant  has 
to  perform  in  reference  to  animal  life,  and  what  purposes  are  secured  by 
the  several  constituents  of  the  vegetable  food  which  we  eat.  The  plant 
has  to  manufacture  the  materials — the  gluten  and  fat — out  of  which  the 
soft  parts  of  the  animal  are  to  be  built  up. 

Then  as  to  the  purposes  of  the  several  constituents  of  the  food, — 
the  gluten  is  carried  into  the  stomach,  and  thence  to  the  proper  parts  of 
the  body  to  build  up  almost  unchanged  the  muscular  parts  of  the  body. 
The  fat  is  transferred  to  the  proper  localities.  The  plant  thus  becomes 
administrative  to  the  animal  necessities. 

A  very  close  connection  is  shown  thus  between  the  vegetable  and 
animal  kingdoms,  and  the  dependence  of  the  latter  on  the  former  is 
complete. 

Moreover  the  principal  difference  between  plants  and  animals  is  in 
the  starch  of  the  former,  which  is  necessary  in  some  of  the  animal  pro- 
cesses. The  fundamental  substance  in  all  the  articles  mentioned  is  Pro- 
tein. It  is  the  leading  constituent  in  Gluten  (of  wheat,)  Fibrin  of  mus- 
cles. Albumen  of  blood.  Casein  or  curd  of  milk,  hair  and  wool.  Sul- 
phur and  Piiosphorus  being  other  constituents  in  different  proportions. 

The  results  of  the  investigations  of  Professor  Mulder  (of  Utrecht.) 
on  these  subjects  are  deserving  of  the  particular  attention  of  all  interest- 


NUTRITIO.V.  155 

ed  in  inquiries  of  this  kind,  and  every  intelligent  man  should  feel  such 
an  interest. 

The  source  of  the  various  secretions  is  the  great  circulating  fluid, 
the  blood.  This  is  not  only  the  universal  nourisher  of  the  various  tis- 
sues of  the  body,  but  likewise  the  contributor  of  materials  for  the  dif- 
ferent laboratories  of  the  animal  system,  in  which  chemical  results  are 
produced  b}  chemical  laws  under  the  control  of  vital  agencies.  Its  con- 
stituents, it  does  not  appear  necesrjary  to  our  purpose,  which  involves 
merely  a  general  representation,  to  present;  suffice  it  to  say,  it  contains 
every  thing  necessary  to  subserve  animal  necessities.  Heat  is  necessary 
to  animal  life,  and  it  has  been  generally  admitted  since  the  rise  of  pneu- 
matic chemistry,  that  something  similar  to  combustion  is  carried  on  in 
the  lungs,  or  in  the  system.  The  earlier  theories  were  simple ;  they 
represented  the  matter  as  merely  a  combination  of  the  oxygen  of  the 
atmosphere  with  the  carbon  of  the  venous  blood,  and  the  consequent 
disengagement  of  heat. 

This  simple  view  was  not  considered  tenable,  and  it  was  supposed 
to  be  ascertained  by  crucial  experiments  that  the  nervous  system  exer- 
cised much  control  over  the  production  of  animal  heat.  It  would  re- 
quire much  time  to  unfold  the  various  modifications  of  the*  primitive 
theory,  but  they  are  all  more  or  less  allied  to  combustion  in  their  ele- 
ments. Nor  has  Liebig  presented  a  system  fundamentally  different.  He 
transfers  combustion  from  the  lungs  to  the  capillary  system.  This  is 
said  to  be  "the  fire  chamber  where  the  fuel  is  consumed,  which  is  des- 
tined to  set  in  motion  the  whole  machinery  of  life."  ''Internal  capill- 
ary combustion  is  the  source  of  animal  heat." 

"Carbon  and  hydrogen  are  burned  in  the  blood,  as  remarked  by 
Fownes,  and  this  to  an  extent  which  will  strike  with  surprise,  and  at 
first,  incredulity,  those  unaccustomed  to  sucli  considerations.  Many 
ounces  of  carbon  are,  in  every  individual,  daily  rejected  from  the  lungs 
as  carbonic  acid.  It  is  impossible  that  combustible  matter  can  thus  be 
disposed  of  without  the  evolution  of  a  vast  amount  of  heat,  as  much 
heat,  in  fact,  as  if  it  had  been  burned  in  a  fire-grate.  This  heat  is  man- 
ifest in  the  elevation  of  the  temperature  which  the  animal  frame  always 
possesses  above  that  of  the  surrounding  medium,  an  elevation  of  tem- 
perature always  in  direct  proportion  to  the  amount  of  nervous  and  mus- 
cular energy  of  the  animal,  and  to  the  vigor  of  its  respiration,  but  never 
in  any  single  case  altogether  absent."  The  lungs  and  the  skin  throw 
ofT  carbonic  acid,  the  product  of  combustion.  Some  of  the  secretions 
may  be  considered  as  defecatory  or  purifying,  and  animal  fat  is  a  de- 


156  NUTRITION. 

posit  brought  within  the  reach  of  animal  necessities  in  periods  when  the 

ordinary  supplies  cease. 

It  belongs  to  that  class  of  food  which  has  reference  to  respiration. 
There  are  two  classes,  the  first  has  reference  to  the  repair  and  nutriment 
of  the  body,  and  the  other  has  reference  to  animal  heat  by  combustion — 
the  first  called  by  Liebig  the  plastic  elements  of  nutrition — the  second 
the  elements  of  respiration. 

First  class.  1,  Vegetable  fibrin;  2,  Vegetable  albumen;  3,  Vegeta- 
ble casein  ;  4,  Animal  flesh  and  blood. 

Second  class.  Fat,  Starch,  Gum,  Cane  sugar.  Loaf  sugar,  Milk,  Su- 
gar, Mucilage.  Wine,  Beer,  Spirits. 

This  then  is  in  general  its  use,  and  for  details,  we  must  refer  you  to 
Liebig. 

We  ask,  finally,  what  are  the  circulations  between  these  kingdoms 
by  which  tliey  minister  to  each  other.  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  if,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  vegetable  kingdom  contributes  to  the  support  of  the 
animal  kingdom — on  the  other,  the  animal  contributes  to  the  support  of 
the  vegetable.  If,  moreover,  animal  and  vegetable  life  depends  upon  the 
atmosphere,  it  is  true  that  it  too  receives  contributions  from  its  benefi- 
ciaries by  which  it  is  upheld  in  its  power.  The  remarks  already  made 
render  it  intelligible  and  satisfactory,  that  vegetables  contribute  essen- 
tially and  largely  to  the  supply  of  animal  necessities,  but  is  the  favor 
returned — is  the  debt  in  any  way  cancelled  ?  The  appropriate  answer 
here,  we  presume,  is  that  animals  furnish  in  various  ways  substances 
which  are  necessary  to  vegetation.  Carbonic  acid,  ammonia,  various 
saline  combinations  with  water,  are  all  instrumental  in  the  development 
of  vegetable  life.  The  deterioration  of  the  atmosphere  and  animal  pro- 
cesses is  remedied  by  supplies  from  the  vegetable  world. 

A  recent  French  writer,  says  Fownes,  in  his  Chemistry  as  exempli- 
fying the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  has  contrasted  the  opposite 
functions  of  plants  and  animals  in  a  very  pleasing  manner  : 

The  vegetable  The  aniinal 

Produces  the  neutral  azotized  Consumes  the  neutral  azotized 
substances,  substances, 

"  "     fatty  substances,  "  "     fatty  substances. 

"  "     sugar  starch  and  gum,  "  "     sugar,  starch,  &.  gum. 

Decomposes  carbonic  acid.  Produces  carbonic  acid, 
"•         water,  "         water, 

"         ammoniacal  salts,  "        ammoniacal  salts. 

Disengages  oxygen,  Absorbs  oxygen, 

Absorbs  heat  and  electricity.  Produces  heat  and  electricity, 

Is  an  apparatus  of  reduction.  Is  an  apparatus  of  oxidation, 

Is  stationary.  Is  locouiotive. 


LOOSE   LEAVES  ETC.  157 

We  sec,  then,  how  these  play,  as  it  were,  into  each  other's  hand,  and 
what  a  beautiful  circuit  is  performed  by  them,  and  how  admirably  they 
minister  to  each  other  and  keep  up  these  important  kingdoms  in  the  uni- 
verse of  God.  The  mind  is  irresistibly  led,  whilst  it  sees  the  striking 
adaptation  of  things  to  each  other,  to  admire  the  knowledge,  wisdom, 
power  and  goodness  of  Him  whose  hand  is  strikingly  displayed  in  all 
these  arrangements. 

We  must  regard  the  study  of  the  relations  of  created  things  to  each 
other,  the  dependence  of  one  part  of  creation  upon  another,  the  recip- 
rocal reception  and  return  of  needed  agents  and  influences,  as  wonder- 
fully conducive  to  the  expansion  of  the  intellect  and  the  development  of 
the  moral  powers.  It  is  when  we  turn  truth  brought  from  the  works  of 
God  into  these  channels,  that  they  furnish  to  us  the  richest  fruits;  they 
add  to  our  knowledge,  and  they  add  to  our  moral  excellence. 


LOOSE  LEAVES  FROM  MY  JOURNAL.       NO.   VII. 

BY  J.  G.  M. 
THE  MONSTER  CASKS  OF  HEIDELBERG. 

Hail,  ancient  Heidelberg!  enjoying  a  world-wide  celebrity  for  the 
charming  scenery  which  surrounds  thee !  the  seat  of  the  oldest  Univer- 
sity in  Germany,  from  which  streams  of  learning  have  flowed  over  all 
the  earth!  Hail,  Heidelberg !  the  ruins  of  thy  castle  attract  tliousands 
of  travellers,  for  here,  in  the  olden  times,  mighty  princes  dwelt;  here 
dukes  and  electors  flourished  and  fought,  drank  and  died  !  Their  pal- 
ace is  deserted,  their  banquet  halls  are  desolate,  the  towers  are  prostrate  ; 
ruin  has  driven  her  ploughshare  over  that  once  magnificent  mansion, 
and  pilgrims,  from  all  lands,  now  come  to  gaze  with  melancholy  admira- 
tion on  its  remains.  The  man  is  to  be  pitied,  who  has  not  sat  on  that 
fallen  column,  or  mounted  that  dilapidated  stair-way  and  looked  around 
on  the  dreary  scene.  The  voice  of  the  troubadour  is  hushed,  the  song 
of  the  minnesinger  has  ceased  ;  the  clangor  of  arms  is  no  longer  heard  ; 
the  wine  no  longer  sparkles  in  the  cup;  the  shout  of  revelry  re-echoes 
not  through  the  long  drawn  aisles  ! 

But  Heidelberg !  famous  as  thy  natural  position,  at  the  head  of  that 
enchanting  valley,  has  made  thee  ;  world-known  as  thou  art  for  thy  uni- 
versity and  thy  ruined  castle,  yet  if  these  had  never  been,  the  nations 
would  know  and  admire  thee,  for  that  other  monument,  which  after  all, 
is  thy  richest  jewel !  How  many  wanderers  go  to  see  that  greatest 
wonder  of  cooper  architecture,  tlie  monster  cask  of  Heidelberg  !     It  is 


16S  LOOSE  LEAA  E.'^ 

the  very  colossus  of  wine  repositories,  witliin  whose  capacious  side?, 
230,000  bottles  of  German  Falernian  can  find  ample  room ! 

Stranger,  if  you  wish  to  view  this  extraordinary  monument  to  the 
god  of  wine,  ascend  the  high  hill  behind  Heidelberg,  vvhereon  the  rnins 
of  Furstenberg  castle  repose  in  melancholy  grandeur  !  On  the  terrace 
of  the  castle,  in  the  shadow  of  lofty,  but  dilapidated  walls,  you  will  ob- 
serve a  smaller  edifice,  the  roof  of 'which  has  defied  the  corroding  tooth 
of  time.  Two  open  lions'  jaws  gape  hideously  on  you  from  over  the 
entrance  ;  square  windows,  in  ancient  times  surmounted  by  Gothic 
arches,  let  in  an  imperfect  light.  A  narrow  door  leads  into  the  interior. 
You  descend  a  few  steps,  and  here  in  this  apartment,  which  is  immedi- 
ately under  the  ancient  court  chapel,  the  Colossus  rests. 

Other  princes  have  distinguished  themselves  for  their  collection  of 
gems,  of  paintings  and  statuary ;  some  have  immortalized  their  names 
by  the  richness  and  enormous  extent  of  their  libraries,  but  the  princes 
of  Heidelberg  have  preferred  to  float  their  fame  down  the  stream  of  pos- 
terity on  the  top  of  a  wine  cask !  Among  the  princes  who  in  olden 
times  occupied  this  celebrated  castle,  there  was  one  who  was  a  remark- 
able example  of  greatness,  and  a  perfect  pattern  for  all  rulers  and  war- 
riors. John  Kasemir  was  his  name,  a  Palsgrave  of  Rhein  and  Duke  of 
Bavaria;  an  orator,  a  warrior,  and  a  terrible  avenger  of  his  enemies.  It 
"was  he,  who  first  erected  one  of  these  wonderful  monuments  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  rosy  god.  For  six  years  he  had  governed  his  dukedom  in 
prosperity,  and  one  day  in  a  convivial  circle  of  his  friends,  whom  he 
Avas  regaling  with  generous  wine,  cultivated  on  his  own  grounds,  he  re- 
solved to  erect  a  memorial  in  praise  of  its  virtues.  It  was  in  1589,  that 
he  called  a  celebrated  cooper  from  Landau,  and  ordered  him  to  construct 
a  cask  the  largest  in  ^the  world ;  and  as  every  thing  good  comes  from 
heaven,  and  can  only  prosper  by  heaven's  blessing,  it  was  to  be  deposi- 
ted under  the  chapel  that  it  might  at  least  be  near  the  sacred  altar.  It 
was  finished  in  two  years.  It  was  elaborately  ornamented  with  various 
devices  and  inscriptions.  Five  figures  of  lions,  with  the  arms  of  the  Pa- 
latinate in  their  claws,  grinned,  from  the  top  and  sides,  and  numerous 
other  curiously  carved  images  constituted  its  decorations.  This  cask 
contained  five  hundred  and  thirty-eight  hogsheads.  It  was  twenty-seven 
feet  long,  and  nearly  as  high.  It  was  bound  together  with  twenty-nine 
hoops,  composed  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-two  hundred  weight  of 
iron.  But  the  designer  of  this  fabric  did  not  enjoy  it  long,  for  in  the 
same  year  he  slept  with  his  fathers.  His  statue  still  stands  against  the 
crumbling  walls  of  the  castle.  For  thirty  years,  this  cask  was  the  won- 
der of  Europe,  but  it  was  broken   to  pieces  during  the  horrors  of  the 


FROM  MV  JOURNAL.  159 

thirty  years'  war.  For  forty  years  it  lay  in  ruins,  until  the  Palsgrave, 
Charles  Levvis,  iletermined  to  revive  the  work  of  his  illustrious  grand 
uncle.  It  was  rebuilt  on  a  larger  scale,  and  now  held  eight  hundred  and 
fifty-six  hogsheads.  It  was  more  richly  ornamented  with  carved-work 
figures  and  verses,  than  before.  On  the  toji  there  was  a  colossal  Bac- 
chus, with  a  goblet  in  his  hand,  and  a  chained,  tongueless  lion  between 
his  knees.  On  the  edge  of  the  front,  there  were  four  large  Satyrs  play- 
ing on  winged  instruments.  On  Ihe  top  was  a  terrace,  large  enough  to 
accommodate  tvventy-four  dancers.  A  staircase  of  fifty  steps  led  up  to 
it.  In  1667,  it  was  filled  with  the  richest  wine,  and  a  medal  was  struck 
in  commemoration  of  the  event. 

Thus  was  John  Kasemir's  monument  restored  by  Charles  Lewis, 
and  it  continued  during  his  life,  and  that  of  his  son  and  successor,  the 
joyous  residence  of  the  life-inspiring  wine-god.  But  a  desolating  war 
broke  out  between  France  and  the  Palatinate.  A  powerful  French  army- 
ravaged  the  fertile  plains  of  that  unhappy  country ;  tlie  cities  and  villa- 
ges on  the  Rhine  were  burned;  the  earth  was  soaked  with  the  blood  of 
the  inoffensive  inhabitants,  and  in  1689  Heidelberg  itself  and  this  proud 
castle  of  her  princes,  fell  a  prey  to  the  savage  horde.  In  1693,  the  work 
of  desolation  was  renewed,  and  that  which  escaped  the  flames  and  the 
artillery,  the  infuriated  foe  tore  to  pieces  with  their  own  hands.  By  a 
remarkable  chance,  the  venerable  cask  was  rescued  from  the  hands  of 
the  destroyer.  The  peace,  that  ensued,  restored  the  prince  to  his  throne, 
but  the  castle  of  his  ancestors  was  in  ruins,  and  the  towns  and  fields  of 
his  country  were  desolate.  He  could  no  longer  reside  in  the  midst  of 
his  faithful  subjects,  and  Bacchus,  too,  had  abandoned  his  magnificent 
dwelling — the  cask  had  been  emptied. 

It  lay  empty  for  forty  years.  It  decayed  and  almost  fell  to  pieces, 
until  finally,  Chailes  Philip  in  part  restored  the  castle  and  established 
his  residence  among  his  people.  The  modern  Colossus,  in  the  subter- 
ranean hall,  was  now  remembered  ;  the  prince  ordered  it  to  be  renewed, 
and  if  possible,  to  be  decorated  more  richly  than  ever.  It  was  begun  in 
1727,  and  on  the  first  of  May  in  the  following  year,  it  was  again  filled 
with  wine.  Many  additional  figures  were  set  up  around  it ;  a  new  ter- 
race on  the  top,  and  a  new  stairway  were  erected.  Two  lions  rampant 
were  so  arranged  as  to  appear  to  support  the  cask.  Numerous  verses, 
in  praise  of  wine  and  of  the  prince,  were  painted  on  all  sides.  On  the 
right  stood  an  image  of  the  famous  court  fool,  Perkes,  which  is  to  this 
day  shown  to  visitors,  and  the  cicerone  of  the  establishment  does  not 
fail  to  tell  you,  that  he  drank  his  twenty  bottles,  regularly  every  day. 

But  this  cask  did  not  last  long ;  it  soon  decayed  •,  the  decorations 


160  SKETCHES  OF  A  RESIDENCE 

fell  off,  and  its  reputation  was  endangered.  The  generous  Elector,  Charles 
Theodore,  in  1751,  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  falling  monster,  and  order- 
ed a  new  one  to  be  constructed  out  of  the  most  solid  materials.  No 
expense  was  spared  to  exceed  all  the  previous  works  in  beauty  and 
strength,  and  80,000  guilders  were  laid  out  upon  it.  This  is  the  identical 
cask  the  visitor  beholds  at  the  present  time  ;  it  is  the  chief  of  all  similar 
structures  in  the  world — the  most  worthy  temple  of  Bacchus  now  in  ex- 
istence. It  exceeds  all  its  predecessors  in  capacity,  and  contains  the 
enormous  quantity  of  934  hogsheads,  or  236,000  large  bottles.  It  is 
30  feet  long,  21  feet  in  diameter  at  the  ends,  and  23  feet  in  the  middle. 
The  staves  are  8  inches  thick.  It  is  bound  together  by  18  wooden 
hoops,  8  inches  thick  and  10  wide,  and  over  these,  are  numerous  thick 
iron  bands.  It  stands  on  an  ornamental  pedestal,  several  feet  from  the 
ground.  It  is  26  feet  high  from  the  floor,  and  in  front,  it  is  decorated 
with  the  crown  and  coat  of  arms  of  the  prince,  with  his  name  in  gold 
letters  on  a  blue  field.  The  plane  and  compasses  used  by  the  builder 
are  still  preserved.  The  former  is  seven  feet  long,  and  the  latter  eight. 
It  has  a  poetic  inscription  on  it,  expressive  of  its  wondrous  qualities. 
A  stairway  conducts  the  visitor  to  the  top,  which  is  flat  and  large  enough 
for  45  persons  to  stand  on  conveniently.  Near  this  cask,  is  another  of 
ordinary  size,  which  is  remarkable  for  its  construction ;  it  is  without 
hoops,  nor  is  there  any  visible  means  by  which  it  is  held  together.  It 
seems  more  like  a  solid  trunk  of  an  enormous  tree,  hollowed  out  from 
the  bung  hole,  but  yet  it  is  really  composed  of  staves,  like  any  other 
hogshead.  It  is  a  complete  puzzle  in  coopery.  Reader,  when  you  go 
to  Heidelberg,  forget  not,  I  beseech  you,  the  famous  cask. 


SKETCHES  OF  A  RESIDENCE  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDS.  NO.  IV. 

The  language  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders  is  remarkably  soft  and  a- 
greeable  to  tiie  ear,  and  as  the  missionaries  inform  us,  extremely  rich 
and  copious.  I  have  often  wondered  why  it  was  that  these  people  have 
such  an  invincible  repugnance  to  become  acquainted  with  our  language, 
or  speaking  it.  As  a  general  thing  they  cannot  be  induced  to  make  an 
effort  to  acquire  it,  and,  in  many  cases,  those  who  understand  it,  cannot 
be  induced  to  speak  it.  This  repugnance  is  probably  owing,  in  a  great 
degree,  to  the  large  number  of  consonants  in  the  English  tongue.  They 
find  it  extremely  difficult,  and,  without  much  practice,  absolutely  impos- 
sible, to  terminate  a  word  without  a  vowel  sound.  The  native  language 
is  full  of  vowels.  Almost  every  word,  and  nearly  every  syllable  begins 
and  ends  with  a  vowel.   This  predominance  of  vowel  sounds,  of  course, 


IN  THE  SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS.  ]{^I 

renders  the  language  very  soft  and  euphonical.  As  in  Spanish  and  many 
other  languages — a  is  sounded  as  aA, — i  as  e, — e  as  a, — u  us  oo^ — ai  as 
i — and  au  as  aw.  The  limit  of  this  number  will  not  permit  me  to  en- 
ter into  any  thing  approaching  a  disquisition  on  the  subject ;  therefore 
a  single  sentence  must  suffice  to  give  your  readers  some  idea  of  the 
structure  and  sound  of  the  language — thus, 

Heri  oe  fa  mai  ka-hari  wau. 

Come  you  to  the  house  of  me. 

Mr.  Andrews,  one  of  the  missionaries,  and  Principal  of  the  High 
School  for  native  children  at  Lahainaluna,  on  the  Island  of  Maui,  has 
compiled  and  published  a  very  full  vocabulary  of  the  Sandwich  Island 
language,  in  a  large  octavo  volume,  a  copy  of  which  1  brought  with  me, 
and  have  presented  to  the  library  of  the  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences 
of  this  city. 

During  my  last  sojourn,  I  was  furnished  with  an  opportunity  of  vis- 
iting, in  a  trading  vessel,  most  of  the  inhabited  islands  of  the  group. — 
My  old  friend.  Captain  Hinckley,  was  the  commander,  and  the  Avon  was 
again  the  ship.  In  addition,  we  had  two  gentlemen,  resident  at  Oahu, 
as  passengers,  so  that  our  time  passed  delightfully.  Indeed  I  think  I 
never  enjoyed  a  little  voyage  of  three  weeks  more.  Our  visit  to  the 
Island  of  Maui  was  to  me  very  interesting.  We  saw  the  large  high 
school  at  Lahainuluna,  accommodating  some  seventy  scholars,  and  al- 
though our  visit  happened  during  a  vacation,  we  were  furnished,  by  the 
Principal,  with  an  opportunity  of  inspecting  the  work,  and  of  judging  of 
the  improvement  of  the  pupils,  which  we  all,  with  one  accord,  pronoun- 
ced fully  equal  to  that  of  students  in  similar  institutions  in  the  United 
States. 

At  Hawaii,  the  largest  island  of  the  group,  we  found  the  natives  in  a 
good  degree  unsophisticated  like  those  on  Kauai.  There  is,  on  the  isl- 
and, no  large  town  as  at  Oahu.,  and  the  foreigners  resident  upon  it  are 
chiefly  missionaries.  On  landing,  we  were  shown,  by  several  old  Kan- 
akas, the  rock  on  which  Captain  Cook  fell  when  he  was  killed.  It  is  a 
large  block  of  lava,  on  the  very  verge  of  the  sea  in  Kareakakua  bay, 
and  is  universally  known  by  the  name  "  Cook''s  rock.''''  It  is  now  not 
one  half  its  original  size,  in  consequence  of  the  curiosity  of  visitors, 
who  have  been  in  the  habit,  for  years,  of  chipping  off  portions  of  it  to 
carry  home  as  relics. 

About  a  mile  from  the  sea,  on  an  elevated  piece  of  ground,  is  a  rude 
monument,  erected  in  1825,  by  Lord  Byron,  Commander  of  His  Britan- 
nic Majesty's  frigate  "  Blonde,''''  to  Captain  Cook.  It  consists  of  a  sim- 
ple red-cedar  post,  with  a  brass  plate  attached,  on  which  is  a  short  in- 
21 


162 


SKETCHES  OK  A  RESIDENCE 


scriplion.  This,  although  usually  called  "  CooWs  tomb,'*''  is  nothing  bui 
an  exceedingly  simple  monument.  Cook's  remains  have  never  been 
found,  or  the  English  Government  would  of  course  have  assigned  them 
an  honorable  place  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

It  is  well  known  that  after  the  death  of  Cook,  the  natives  themselves, 
even  those  engaged  in  the  unpremeditated  murder,  heartily  regretted  the 
hasty  stroke  which  laid  him  low.  They  were  fully  aware  that  he  came 
among  them  with  the  best  intentions,  and  that  if  they  had  suffered  him 
to  live,  he  would  have  proved  a  benefactor  to  them.  They  accor- 
dingly mourned  for  him  publicly  in  their  usual  mode,  with  loud  wait- 
ings, disfiguring  their  persons  as  forgone  of  the  royal  family.  An  old 
man  whom  I  met  on  Hawaii,  and  who  was  present  at  the  dealli  of  Cook, 
informed  me  that  several  thousand  teeth  were  struck  out  on  the  day  fol- 
lowing his  demise.  The  body  was  then  undoubtedly  treated  as  were 
the  remains  of  all  persons  of  rank  in  those  barbarous  and  idolatrous 
times.  It  was  removed  to  a  Heiau  or  Temple,  where  the  flesh  was 
stripped  from  the  bones,  and  the  latter  inhumed  in  some  cave,  the  local- 
ity of  which  has  never  transpired. 

I  have  mentioned  that  the  monument  was  erected  by  Lord  Byron,  a 
Captain  in  the  Royal  Navy.  This  nobleman  is,  I  believe,  a  cousin  of 
the  poet.  The  object  of  his  visit,  was  to  take  home  the  bodies  of  the 
late  King,  Rihoriho  and  his  Queen,  for  interment.  This  royal  couple 
accepted  an  invitation  from  his  Majesty  William  IV.,  to  visit  the  Court 
of  St.  James  in  the  year  1824.  A  frigate  was  accordingly  sent  for  them 
and  after  a  long,  but,  in  other  respects,  prosperous  voyage,  they  arrived. 
They  of  course  immediately  became  Lions ;  they  were  feted  and  fed  in 
the  palaces  of  all  the  Royal  Dukes,  and  in  those  of  many  others  of  the 
higher  nobility  of  the  realm.  They,  no  doubt,  poor  unsophisticated 
creatures,  thought  it  their  duty  to  devour  all  that  was  set  before  them, 
and  they  accordingly  both  died  of  a  surfeit,  within  a  few  days  of  each 
other,  after  a  residence  of  less  than  three  months  in  Great  Britain.  I 
have  never  heard  it  suggested,  but  I  think  it  highly  likely,  that  if  a  few 
doses  per  diem  of  good  Sandwich  Island  jpoe  could  have  been  adminis- 
tered, they  would  have  recovered. 

On  my  way  home  I  spent  three  weeks,  very  delightfully,  at  Tahiti, 
one  of  the  Society  Islands.  The  harbor  into  which  our  vessel  ran,  Pa- 
paete,  is,  I  think,  the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  seen  in  the  South  Seas, 
The  native  houses  are  lighter  and  more  fanciful  than  those  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islanders,  being  built  of  interlaced  canes  or  bamboos,  and,  instead 
of  a  thatch  of  grass,  they  are  covered  with  the  long  broad  leaves  of  the 
Pandanus ;  the  ridge-pole,  and  cross  beams  being  wound  with  beautiful, 


IN  THE   SOUTH   SEA  ISLANDS,  163 

fine  sinnet.  The  Tahitians  are  perhaps  a  shade  lighter  in  color  than 
the  Sandwich  Islanders  ;  much  more  warlike  and  spirited,  and,  unlike 
the  latter,  the  highest  chiefs  are  uniformly  dressed  in  the  simple  native 
costume.  Even  the  Queen,  Pomare*  excepting  on  State  occasions,  is 
clad  in  a  single  garment  of  calico  or  tapa,  and  wears  neither  shoes  nor 
stockings.  Shortly  after  my  arrival,  I  called,  in  company  with  the  Amer- 
ican Consul,  Mr.  Moerenhaut,  upon  her  Majesty.  When  we  passed 
through  the  rustic  wicket  gate  in  front  of  her  simple  habitation,  I  ob- 
served about  half  a  score  of  women  playing  at  quoits  before  the  door 
of  the  house.  One  of  these  ran  hastily,  upon  our  entrance,  into  the 
cottage.  Mr.  Moerenhaut  whispered  me  that  this  was  the  Queen.  We 
stepped  into  the  house,  and  I  was  introduced,  by  the  Consul,  in  due 
form  to  Pomare.  She  had  just  time  to  seat  herself  upon  a  pile  of  mats 
and  to  call  up  some  portion  of  the  dignity  "  which  doth  hedge  a 
queen,"  when  we  stood  before  her.  She  received  us,  however,  with 
more  ease  than  1  had  expected,  considering  the  undignified  nature  of 
her  employment  a  moment  previously,  and  conversed  in  the  native  lan- 
guage with  the  Consul,  for  perhaps  half  an  hour,  without  a  particle  of 
embarrassment. 

I  found  the  language  of  the  Tahitians  so  similar  to  that  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islanders,  that  I  was  enabled  also  to  converse  with  her  Majesty 
without  much  difficulty.  She  seemed  somewhat  astonished  at  this,  be- 
ing aware  that  the  present  was  my  first  visit  to  her  island.  Pomare  is 
married  to  a  common  native,  whom  she  selected,  doubtless,  on  account 
of  his  good  looks.  He  has  no  power  whatever,  and  is  not  in  the  least 
degree  burthened  with  the  cares  of  Sovereignty.  Indeed,  should  Po- 
mare die,  he  would  immediately  return  to  the  ranks.  The  only  title 
he  receives  from  natives  as  well  as  foreigners  is  that  of  the  "  Queen'^s 
husband.^^ 

I  passed  my  time  while  at  Tahiti,  chiefly  in  procuring  specimens  of 
the  native  birds,  of  which  there  is  a  great  number  and  considerable  va- 
riety. I  had  also  some  very  excellent  spotting  in  the  extensive  forests 
of  the  Island.  The  common  chicken  is  there  in  great  abundance,  in  a 
state  of  nature;  and,  in  company  with  natives  as  guides,  I  enjoyed  sev- 
eral days  capital  shooting. 

Another  species  of  enjoyment,  however,  which  the  multitude  can 
perhaps   better  appreciate,  I  found  in  going  out  alone  in  a  canoe  and 

*  Pomare  is  properly  a  man's,  and  not  a  woman's  name.  Pomare  was  the  name 
of  the  father  of  the  present  queen.  At  his  death,  and  on  her  accession  to  the 
throne,  she  assumed  his  name,  adding  to  it  the  word  wahint  (a  woman.)  She  now 
calls  herself  Pomare  wahinc — the  Woman  Pomare, 


164  SKETCHES  OF  A  RESIDENCE 

looking  for  hours  into  the  clear  depths  of  the  ocean.  I  usually  paddled 
my  canoe  outside  the  reef,  where  the  water  is  from  fourteen  to  sixteen 
fathoms  deep.  Even  at  this  great  depth  I  could  see  almost  to  the  bot- 
tom, so  perfectly  clear  and  pellucid  was  the  water.  The  bottom  is  here 
covered  with  immense  groves  oi  arborescent  coral,  many  of  the  branches 
of  which  rise  to  within  a  few  fathoms  of  the  surface;  and  between 
these  branches  the  magnificent  fishes  of  the  tropics  were  seen  sporting 
in  countless  numbers,  like  brilliant  birds  through  the  most  gorgeously 
painted  foliage.  Several  times,  while  on  these  interesting  marine  excur- 
sions, I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  large  shoals  of  flying  fish  rise  at 
some  distance  and  plunge  into  the  sea  near  my  boat,  looking  like  pieces 
of  polished  silver  as  the  rays  of  the  sun  fell  upon  them.  On  one  of 
these  occasions,  a  Dolphin  had  been  in  pursuit  of  them,  and  the  magni- 
ficent depredator  leapt  so  near  me,  that  I  could  have  touched  him  with 
my  paddle. 

A  circumstance  occurred  a  few  days  before  I  left  this  island,  which 
was  a  novelty  to  me,  and  1  am  induced  to  suppose  may  possess  interest 
for  the  readers  of  the  Journal, 

Strolling  along  the  beach  one  fine  morning,  I  overtook  the  Captain 
of  a  whaling  vessel  lying  in  the  port,  who  stopped  me  in  passing,  to 
point  out  a  whaler  which  had  just  cleared  the  harbor,  remarking,  in  a 
professional  lone — "She  has  backed  her  foretopsail.  Sir."  "Well," 
said  I,  "suppose  she  has,  and  what  then?"  "Why,  "he  answered, 
"don't  you  know  that  means  she  has  a  whale?"  This  information 
immediately  put  me  on  the  qui  vive.  I  asked  him  if  he  would  go  out 
with  me  to  see  the  fun.  He  replied  that  he  would  gladly  go,  if  we 
could  procure  a  boat.  Recollecting  that  I  had  seen  a  whale-boat  ashore 
a  few  hundred  yards  down  the  beach,  I  requested  him  to  wait  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  ran  hastily  to  the  boat,  which  I  secured;  and  by  an  offer  of  a 
few  rials  to  some  native  men  whom  I  found  in  a  village  near,  furnished 
myself  in  a  trice  with  six  good  oarsmen.  We  pulled  back  to  where  I 
had  left  the  Captain,  took  him  on  board,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were 
clear  of  the  harbor,  and  in  full  run  for  the  whaler.  Our  men  gave  way 
handsomely,  and  in  a  very  short  time  we  found  ourselves  among  the 
boats  which  had  left  the  ship  in  pursuit  of  the  monster.  We  were  too 
late  however  to  see  the  first  harpoon  thrown.  One  boat  had  already 
fastened  to  the  whale,  and  it  was  seen  clearing  the  vyater  at  a  fearful 
rate.  Towards  this  boat  we  pulled,  and  before  we  reached  it,  up  surged 
the  huge  fish  to  blow.  A  column  of  what  seemed  thick  blood  was  pro- 
jected from  its  snout  to  the  height  of  perhaps  fifteen  feet,  and  the  sea  all 
around   was  red  with  blood.     In  a  inoiucnt,  a  second  boat  shot  by  us, 


IN  THE   SOUTH   SEA  IS.LAADS.  IGo 

and  ran  within,  what  seemed  to  me,  fearful  proximity  to  the  wounded 
animal.  The  man  in  the  bow  rose  deliberately,  and  poising  his  harpoon 
for  a  moment,  drove  it  up  to  the  staff  in  the  whale's  side,  shouting,  as 
he  did  so,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  '•'' Starn  all.''''  The  boat  was  in- 
stantly driven  backwards  about  twenty  feet,  and  at  the  same  moment 
the  whale  dived  head  foremost,  striking  the  sea  a  blow  with  his  flukes  ; 
which  might  have  been  heard  a  mile.  By  this  time,  however,  the  poor 
creature  was  so  exhausted,  that  after  running  out  the  line  for  about  a 
minute,  he  broke  water  again.  A  third  boat  then  approached  him,  run- 
ning almost  upon  his  side,  the  bow-man  of  which  passed  a  long  lance 
into  him  and  drew  it  forth  again  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  uncon- 
cern. After  this  finishing  thrust,  the  whale  did  not  dive,  but  shuddered 
so  as  to  agitate  the  sea  all  around  him.  All  the  boats  then  drew  off 
from  him  to  the  distance  of  perhaps  a  hundred  feet,  and  in  less  than  a 
minute,  he  went  into  his  '•'•Jliirry. "  He  whirled  his  immense  carcass 
once  round,  and  lashed  the  sea  with  his  tail  until  its  surface  was  cov- 
ered with  a  bloody  foam ;  then,  after  forging  ahead  a  few  yards,  he 
floated  dead  beside  the  boats. 

The  ship  immediately  made  sail,  and  ran  along  side  the  piize;  and 
then  commenced  the  operation  of  "  cutting  in, "  as  it  is  called.  This 
was  done  by  cutting  off  the  blubber  with  sharp  steel  instruments  called 
"spades."  The  operation  commences  at  the  head.  A  large  mass  of 
about  two  feet  in  width  (which,  in  a  fat  animal,  is  from  fourteen  to  six- 
teen inches,  in  thickness,)  is  raised,  and  a  hole  made  in  the  end  of  it, 
into  which  a  noosed  rope  is  inserted,  and  prevented  from  drawing  out 
by  a  "  tozzh  "  passed  through  the  loop.  The  other  end  of  this  rope  is 
rove  through  a  block  on  the  end  of  the  fore  or  main  yard,  and  as  the 
cutting  is  continued  in  a  spiral  manner  around  the  body  of  the  animal, 
the  carcass  rolling  over  and  over  in  the  sea,  the  hands  at  the  other  ex- 
tremity of  the  rope  sway  away  until  the  strip  of  blubber  reaches  the 
block  on  the  yaid,  when  it  is  severed,  and  swung  in-board  in  readiness 
to  be  cut  up  and  put  into  the  "  try-pots. "  Another  piece  of  the  blub- 
ber is  then  raised  and  toggled  in  the  same  manner ;  and  thus  the  opera- 
tion is  continued  until  the  whale  is  completely  skinned.  Tiie  '•'■  case.^'''' 
(i.  e.,  the  head,)  is  then  cut  off'  at  tlie  foramen  magnum  or  occipital  hole. 
The  moment  the  vertebral  connexion  is  severed,  the  whole  head  falls, 
the  snout  going  down  vertically,  and  the  occipital  region  lying  horizon- 
tally just  above  the  surface  of  the  sea.  The  head,  or  case,  of  a  Sperm 
Whale,  such  as  I  saw  killed,  is  filled  with  liquid  oil.  This  is  pure 
sperm,  and  is  bailed  out  with  buckets.  I  did  not  remain  until  this  pro- 
cess was  completed,  but,  upon  inquiring  of  the  Captain  what  quantity  the 


16G  LATIN   ENGLISH.  LlTERAKi'  WORLD. 

case  would  contain,  was  informed  that  in  the  animal  before  us,  it  would 
probably  not  be  less  than  ffleen  barrels  ! 

The  whole  of  this  process  was  to  me  very  interesting,  and  I  had 
been  so  anxious  to  see  a  whale  killed,  that  I  was  more  than  once  on 
the  point  of  embarking  in  one  of  these  filthy  ships,  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  witnessing  the  sport. 

In  a  few  days  after  this  incident,  1  embarked  in  an  English  ship  for 
Valparaiso,  and  bade  adieu,  probably  for  ever,  to  the  Islands  in  the 
South  Seas. 

Philadelphia,  1847,  J.  K.  T. 


LATIN-ENGLISH. 

On  page  144  of  the  Journal  there  is  a  "  Fragment "  of  doggerel  La» 
tin,  in  which  a  great  number  of  English  words  are  used,  as  if  a  Roman 
had  been  giving  the  proceedings  of  an  English  Debating  Society.  The 
orthography  of  the  piece  is,  however,  not  in  keeping.  The  words  you 
make  here  are  properly  rendered  iu  (better  ju)  maek  hir ;  but  keepare, 
shamefulU  (in  four  syllables)  selence  [si-len-ke^  pinchendi^  hookarat,  chal- 
Jenjo  (there  is  no  kallenyo  in  English,)  showebo,  waitite,  minutes,  would 
have  been  better  if  written  kipare,  shem...  sailens,  pintshendi,  hukarat 
(or  hucarat)  tshallendjo,  sho'ebo,  welite,  minnils.  Justnou  woul  d  be  bet- 
ter djoslnau,  although  objection  may  be  made  to  the  first  vowel  as  heard 
in  murder,  which  has  no  proper  character  in  Latin,  although  there  is  one 
in  a  solitary  inscription,  which  might  be  introduced  when  required  to 
represent  this  sound.  In  the  "  fragment "  it  is  represented  by  u  in  rum^ 
pum,  e  in  orderum,  and  by  o  in  nomscols. 

Columbia,  Pa.,  April  14th,  1847.  S.  S.  H. 


The  Literary  World,  a  Gazette  for  Authors,  Readers,  and  Pub- 
lishers.    Neio  York.     $3  per  annum. 

This  excellent  new  periodical  is  published  in  large  quarto  numbers 
of  twenty-four  pages  each,  on  good  paper.  The  literary  and  scientific 
reviews  are  excellent,  and  since  the  Literary  Bulletins  of  Appleton,  and 
Wiley  and  Putnam  have  been  discontinued,  it  is  the  only  medium 
through  which  a  knowledge  of  recent  publications  here  and  abroad  can 
be  obtained.  The  lists  of  American,  English,  French,  and  German 
books  are  very  full,  so  that  the  work  is  indispensable  to  all  who  wish 
to  be  acquainted  with  the  current  of  literary  events.  It  will  be  found 
of  great  use  to  authors,  in  reality  or  prospectively,  as  by  taking  it  and 


College  record.  l67 

Jijarking  the  titles  of  works,  having  a  bearing  upon  the  subjects  he  may- 
intend  to  elucidate,  he  will  know  what  to  consult,  when  he  commences 
writing,  and  he  will  thus  be  the  less  likely  to  put  forth  old  views  as 
new  ones. 


College  record. 

Bible  Society.  The  annual  meeting  of  the  "  Bible  Society  of  Penn- 
sylvania College  and  Theological  Seminary  "  was  held  in  the  College 
Chapel  on  the  3rd  ult.,  and  the  following  gentlemen  were  elected  offi- 
cers for  the  ensuing  year:  President. — Prof.  M.  L.  Stoever.  Vice-Presi- 
dents.—A.  C.  Wedekind,  C.  Kuhl,  R.  A.  Fink.  Cor.  Sec— J.  K.  Plitt. 
Rec.Sec. — W.M.Baum.  Treasurer. — F.Benedict.  Board  of  Managers. — ■ 
A.  Essick,  B.  M.  Schmucker,  G.  J.  Martz,  P.  Born,  H.  M.  Bickel,  S.  Sherer, 
J.  A.  S.  Tressler,  P.  Raby,  P.  Sheeder,  E.  S.  Henry,  F.  W.  Brauns,  J.  Evans. 

From  the  annual  report,  which  has  been  placed  upon  our  table,  we 
gather  the  following  facts.  The  Society  was  organized  on  tlie  14th  of 
July,  1839.  During  the  succeeding  year^  the  Board  of  Managers,  in 
compliance  with  the  request  of  the  State  Society,  undertook  to  explore 
the  County  of  Adams,  visiting  every  family  and  supplying  the  destitute 
with  the  Sacred  Volume.  The  work  was  prosecuted  with  great  cheer- 
fulness and  zeal,  the  County  was  thoroughly  explored,  and  several  hun- 
dred families,  found  destitute,  were  furnished  with  the  Word  of  God. 

Since  that  period,  the  Society  has  appropriated  its  funds  to  the  use 
of  the  Parent  Society  in  Philadelphia,  and  by  its  contributions  have  con- 
stituted threr  of  the  Professors  life  members.  Several  years  having 
elapsed  since  the  former  visitation,  and  a  re-supply  of  the  County 
with  the  Scriptures  being  deemed  necessary,  the  Board,  last  Decem- 
ber, determined  to  renew  the  effort  this  Spring.  Arrangements  are, 
therefore,  making  to  commence  operations,  and  with  the  assistance  that 
has  been  promised  by  the  Female  Society  of  the  Borough,  it  is  hoped 
that  the  work  will  be  speedily  accomplished.  During  the  year,  two 
valuable  and  useful  members  of  the  Board,  Messrs.  Renshaiv  and  Albert^ 
whose  Christian  example  is  worthy  of  all  imitation,  and  who  had  ex- 
pressed an  earnest  desire  to  unite  in  the  contemplated  exploration,  have, 
in  the  Providence  of  God,  been  called  from  their  good  works  on  earth, 
to  a  blissful  reward  in  heaven. 

The  Treasurer's  report  exhibits  the  sum  of  thirty  dollars.,  which,  by 
order  of  the  Board,  has  been  forwarded  to  the  Parent  Society. 

The  annual  address,  according  to  appointment,  was  delivered  on  the 
14th  ult.,  by  Rev.  S.  W.  Harkey,  of  Frederick,  Md. 


IGS 

LITERARY    CONTEST. 

The  Annual  Contest  between  the  Phrenakosraian  and  JPhilomaihaan 
Societies  of  Pennsylvania  College,  took  place  on  Wednesday  evening, 
the  14th  ult.  This  is  always  regarded  as  an  interesting  occasion.  It  is 
anticipated  by  the  young  men,  with  deep  interest,  long  before  its  arrival, 
and  for  months  previous  furnishes  a  prolific  theme  of  conversation. — 
We  would  hail  its  recurrence,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  behold  the 
bright  countenances  and  smiling  faces,  so  expressive  of  happiness,  that 
greet  you  on  every  side.  We  love  to  see  youthful  enthusiasm,  and  hon- 
orable rivalship.  Even  to  one,  who  has  gone  forth  from  his  Alma  Ma- 
ter, and  after  a  lapse  of  several  years,  returns  to  witness  such  a  celebra- 
tion, what  pleasurable  feelings  does  the  occasion  enkindle,  what  pleas- 
ing reminiscences  does  it  awaken!  The  past,  with  a  crowd  of  gentle 
associations,  rushes  to  his  mind  !  Every  scene  is  sanctified  with  happy 
recollections,  every  spot  is  hallowed  with  delightful  incidents !  As  he 
gazes  upon  the  white  badge,  he  remembers  how  often  it  made  his  heart 
beat  responsive  to  its  successes,  and  the  blue  ribbon,  how  often  with 
dismay  he  beheld  its  proud  march  to  victory.  How  we  love  to  revert 
to  College  days,  when  our  calm  bosom  was  never  dimmed  by  the  tears 
of  sorrow,  nor  clouded  by  the  hand  of  misfortune;  when,  secluded 
from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  a  cold  and  selfish  world,  and  free  from  the 
engrossing  cares  and  responsibilities  of  life,  we  enjoyed  the  holy  quiet, 
the  peaceful  shades  of  Academus;  when  our  path  seemed  strown  with 
flowers,  and  we  lived  only  to  be  happy!  Oh  how  joyous  is  the 
student's  life — how  full  of  hope  !  What  fairy  prospects  are  before  him  ! 
IIow  in  imagination,  he  paints  every  thing  in  the  brilliant  hues  of  the 
Tainbow !  No  effort  seems  too  great  for  the  grasp  of  his  anticipations 
— no  flight  too  high  for  the  aspirations  of  his  ambition  !  Is  it  not  a  glo- 
rious era  in  a  man's  life  ?  In  our  subsequent  joys,  we  experience, 
nothing  comparable  to  it. 

But  we  have  wandered  from  our  object.  When  we  took  up  our  pen 
we  only  designed  to  make  a  record  of  the  Contest,  which  recently  came 
off,  in  the  College  Church,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  and  attentive  au- 
dience. 

The  following  programme  presents  the  order  of  exercises : 

Prayer  by  Rev.  Dr.  Morris. 

Essays — "The  Crescent  and  the  Cross  " — W.  H.  Morris,  Baltinnore,  Md. 
"  The  Curse  of  Genius  " — V.  L.  Conrad,  Pine  Grove,  Pa. 

Orations — "Extinction  of  Polish  Liberty  " — W.  H.  Witheroiv,  Gettysburg, 
Pa.     "Divorce  of  Josephine  " — L.  E.  Albert,  Hanover,  Pa. 

Debate — "  Can  the  Drama  be  made  subservient  to  Intellectual  and  Moral 
Culture?"— Affirmative— iJ..4.fjM/c,  Middletown,  Md.  Negative—/.  A.  S.  Tressler, 
Loysvilie,  Pa. 

Benediction  by  Rev.  Dr.  Krauth. 

Every  thing  passed  off  apparently  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all 
concerned.  Although  the  service  was  protracted  beyond  three  hours, 
the  assembly  gave  little  evidence  of  weariness,  and  seemed  reluctant  to 
leave  the  place  which  had  afforded  them  so  much  pleasure. 

The  Music  was  charming,  and  fully  sustained  the  high  reputation 
which  the  Haydn  Association  enjoys. 


licccijils  difrhig-  Aj)ril. 

r.cv.  M.  G.  Allcman,  Danville.  Pa.  $3  00  Voh.   1  2  k  3 

Hcv.  J.  V.  K.  Thoiu,  Carlide,  I'a.  1  00  -  3 

Kev.  J.  Winecofl;  Bedforil,  Pa.  1   00  _  3 

Kcv.  W.  G.  Lailzel,  Martiiisburi,',  Pa.  1  00  ,  3 

J»cv.  R.  \Vciser,  vSelinsgrove,  Pa.  1   00  3 

Prof.  S.  S.  Haldenian,  Coiumbia  Pa.  1  00  -  3 

ilev.  A.  Ber<^,  .Slire\viji)ui{r,  Pa.  1  00  -  3 

Kev.  G.  A.  Ni.vciodr,  Fiederick,  Mtl.  1  00  -  3 

Picv.  Dr.  Sell  mucker,  G ell  vs burg,  3  00  -  1  2  &.  3 

Kev.  L.  Eichelbcrger,  Wiii'cliester,  Va.  ^00  -  2  &.  3 

Kev.  H.  Bishop,  Indiana,  Pa.  1  00  -  3 

Kev.  John  Ulricli,  Petersbnrjr,  Pa.  1  00  -  3 

Kev.  P.  Sahm,  Blairsville,  Pa.  3  00  -  ],  2  &  3 

J.  P.  Sniehzer,  Funkstown,  Md.  2  00  -  3  &.  4 

James  Ellis,  Chester  co.,  ]   00  -  3 

Henry  'Prille,  Waynesboro',  Pa.  2  00  -  2  &.  3 

T-  Sleeker,  GcUvsbnrg.  1  00  -  3 

F.  ^V^  Braun?,    '  .  1  00  -  S' 

J).  J.  Kvlcr,          .  1   00  -  3 

W.  K.  Gilbert,      -  75  .  2 

.Joshua  Evans,      r  1  00  -  3 

W.  P.  Panhrauli;  .  1  00  -  .3 

E.  G.  Fahncslock.  1  7o  -  2  &.  3 

S.  M.  Buehlcr,      -  1   00  -  2 

PhilomuUuvan  .Society,     -  2  00  -  2  S^  3 

Doiiationo  lo  OTubincU 

1.  JVorn  Rev.  Dr.  Morris,  per  Prof.  Sloecer,  IS  Bird  Slvins.  11  Reptiles,  1 
Squirrel,  a  lot  of  Indian  iinpioments,  a  lot  of  Paste-board  Trays  for  aaitieruls,  aho 
an  Ustricti  egj. 

2.  From  Rev.  W.  .1.  Pu'nufunt,  per  Prof.  Stoever,  Specimens  of  writing  in 
Ibrly  il.iHercnt  languaijes. 

S.  Froen  Rev.  R.  tVelser,  \)cv  J.  Evan'',  a  specimen  of  Peacock  Coal  from 
Schuylkill  county,  1  Indian  Axe,  XJrane  shot  from  Ft.  Augusta,  Lepida  Dendra 
froin'Bedford  county,  Sulphuret  of  Iron  from  Schuylkill  county, Iron  ore  from 
Grecnsandsof  New  Jersey. 

1.  From  IVin.  Ji.  Hineard,  per  M.  J'oicy,  Bullets  brought  from  the  battle 
;;!uiiiid  of  New  Orleans. 

J.     I'Vom  Rev.  G.  .4.  Xixdorff,   1  Coin. 

<>.     Fioiii  P.  horn,  1  Coin. 

7.     Fruiii  H.  N.  Fnber,  Hanover,  a  hundsonic  specimen  of  LuTiestons. 

Donations  lo  Cibranj. 

1.  From  Prof.  M.  J..  Sloevcr,  Classi.scope  by  P.  A.  Browne,  LL.  D.,  of  Fhit- 
adelphia. 

2.  From  Rev.  Dr.  Morris,  o  Vols,  on  Natural  Historv. 

;?.  From  Rev.  Dr.  Kurtz,  Baltimore,  Md.,  per  Prof.  Sloever,  Fac  Simile  of 
;<  tablet  of  bron/.c,  on  which  i?  engraved  a  senatus  consultum  (Roman  Act  of  Par- 
hament,)  piohibiting;  Bacchanalian  ceremonies,  dated  in  the  year  of  Rome  567,  Or 
»'..  C.  l^ii.  (Livy.  XXXIX.  S-15.)  II  ^V35  probably  hung  np  at  some  public  plac^ 
-'■  Koio/-.     Piocurcd  at  the  Impcri«l  Library  in  Vienna.  Austria,  Jnue  yth.  ISW. 


Pcuncinlviania  College,  (Scttnsburg,  |pa. 

F.ACl'I/rV    AXD    INSTllUC'TOKS. 

C.  p.  Krautm,  D.  D.— President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rel.,  EtkicK,  SfC. 
[  Rev.  II.  I,.  Baugher,  A.  M. —  Prof,  of  Greek  Languair.e.  Rhetoric  and  Oraton/. 

Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. —  Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechaincal  Philoi. 

Rev.  W.  M.  RF.YNOLns,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  ^nd  Logic 
I  M.  L.  Stoevkr,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 

Rev.  C.  A.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German,  Lansna^e  and  JAteraivre. 

H.  Haupt,  a.  M. —  Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Braivins  tmd  French. 

David  Gftbert,  M.  T). — L'.rtnrer  oa  Aim*om<i  and  Physiology. 

John  G.  Morius.  D.  D  — Lecturer  oa  Zoolos'j. 

Abraham  Essick. —  Tutor. 

Joux  K.  Vlitt. —  Tv.lor. 


The  Vv inter  term  of  Pennsylvania  Colleo;p  closed  on  the  15th  ult.  The  num-  ■ 
ber  of  students  roimected  wi)h  (lie  institution  dnrinsj  the  past  session  was  unusual-  ■ 
ly  largo.  The  Trustees  have  mnch  encoura!reinr>nt  to  hope  for  its  continued  pros-  ; 
perity  and  to  expect  fntuie  favor.  The  proximity  of  Gettysburg;  to  Baltimore  and  | 
Philadel[>hia,  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  the  morality  of  its  inhabitants,  the  cheap- ; 
ness  of  iivinij  recommend  the  Colleee  to  the  patronage  of  parents.  The  course  * 
of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  of  anv  institution  in  the  country.  ; 
The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thor-  ' 
oueh  English,  business  educ :\tion,  in  addition  to  the  elempnts  of  the  Mathematics  j 
and  Chssiral  T^itprature.  Younq:  men,  dfsirons  of  qualifyino;  themselves  to  be-  >' 
come  Common  School  tf^achers,  on  joy  peculiar  advanta^jes.  .According:  to  an  Act  of  ; 
the  T.ejjislature,  fifteen  j/ouni:  m''n  rereiv'e  instriictiojt  L^rabiilo'-nhi  for  this  purpose.      ' 

The  College  Course  is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  ; 
country. 

The  E^overnmfnt  of  the   students   is  parental,   mild  and   alfectionate,  but  firm 
and  eners;etic.     'Phey  att^-nd  three  recitations  a  day.  Church  and   Bible  Class  on 
the  Sabbath,  and   are  visited   in  thf^ir  rooms  so   freqiK-ntly  as  to  preclude  the  dan- 
eer  of  any   c'eat  irreijularitips.     Thsy  are   all  required  to  lodge  in  the   College  ; 
Edifice,  special  cases  excepted.  I 

The  annual  e.'?n?nses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  durina:  the  winter; 
session,  .ftfi:'.  02!  :  for  the  summer  session.  .'f)^'13  12'- .  Washintr.  $*lfl  00 :  and  Wood,  > 
$3  00.  Total  expense,  §119  75.  Boardin;5can  be  obtained  in  town  at  $1  25  per  ^ 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencinp;  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  ^veeks  continuanc".  ; 

The  duties  of  the  Summer  See^ion  will  be  lesumed  on  the  20th  of  this  month. 

For  more  particul.ir  information   upon  any  subject  connected  with   either  De- 
partments of  the  Institution,  address.  ,  ; 

Rev.  Dr.  Kti  \i:th,  ; 

President  of  Pennsylvaiiia  College,  or 
Prok.  M.  L.  Rtof.vf.r, 

Prinvipa!  of  Preparatory  Department. 


'I'krm.s  (ty  THE  Kkcokd  a\d  Joi.it.NAi..     One  Dollar  per  annum 
in  advoiice. 
Address — '■'Edilors  of  the  Record  and  Journal,  Gcttyshurg.)  Pa.'''' 


-•  fT^'^^"'-"""""""'^"'— '"'"   "'••  ' 


VOLUME  HI.] 


Fnumber  €. 


tHK 


UTERARV   RECORD   AND  JOURKAL 

JUNE,   1847. 


CONDUCTED 


332?  a  eommfttee  of  the  assocfatfow. 


CONTENTS. 
rXATURAL  HISTORY  RECREATIONS,  - 

ANOTHER  LOOSE   LEAF,  -  _  -  . 

AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  "BLACK  FEET^'  INDIANS, 
REGIMEN  SAJVITATIS   SALERNITANUM, 
COLLEGE  REMINISCENCES,  -  *  . 

AUROR.\L  ARCH,       ------ 

GREAT  DISCOTERIES,  _  -  _  - 

FLATTERY,  .  ^  ~  .  .  . 

NAVAL  APPOINTMENTS,      -  -  -  - 

COLLEGE  RECORD,  -  ^  -  -  . 


169 
172 

185 
177 
185 
188 
190 
191 
ib 
192 


11   sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2|  cents,  to  any  distance  within  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


d! 


THE  LITERARY 

OP  THE  LINNiEAN  ASSOCIATION  OP  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  11  [.  JUNE,  1847.  No.  7. 


NATURAL  HISTOPvY  RECREATIONS.       NO.  II. 

BY  AN  AMATEUR. 

In  the  February  number  of  this  Journal,  1  gave  a  paper  on  those 
minute  and  remarkable  animals  called  Infusoria,  from  the  fact  of  their 
being  developed  in  infusions  of  vegetable  or  animal  substances. 

Since  that  time,  I  have  been  amusing  myself  and  friends  by  a  more 
scientific  examination  of  them,  and  we  here  give  you  a  few  of  the  re- 
sults. 

A  good  microscope  is  essential  for  this  pursuit.  There  is  no  optical 
instrument  which  affords  more  solid  amusement  then  this,  for  it  displays 
to  the  wondering  gaze  the  most  extraordinary  operations  of  nature.  I 
bought  one  in  Paris  of  the  celebrated  Chevalier  manufacture,  which  cost 
me  there  about  twenty-five  dollars,  and  which  answers  every  purpose. — 
A  cheaper  one  would  serve  for  ordinary  observation. 

It  will  not  appear  strange  to  those  who  have  any  idea  of  the  pro- 
gress of  modern  science  to  hear,  that  these  infinitesimal  animals,  most 
of  which  are  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  have  been  systematized,  classi- 
fied and  named  as  to  genera  and  species,  just  as  tlie  quadrupeds,  fishes 
and  birds  have  been.  Splendid  works  have  been  written  on  the  subject 
of  these  animals,  most  of  which  are  illustrated  with  finely  engraved  and 
colored  figures  of  them. 

I  shall  mention,  at  present,  but  a  few  species,  beginning  with  the  most 
simply  organized. 

The  first  class  embraces  those,  which  have  a  stomach  composed 
of  many  sacs,  but  have  no  intestinal  canal,  and  hence  no  posterior  aper- 
ture. 

These  are  the  smallest  of  all  known  organisms,  and  how  large  do 
you  suppose  they  are  ?  It  seems  ridiculous  to  apply  to  them  any  word 
indicating  size,  for  often  they  arc  not  the  SOOOlli  part  of  a  line  in  length  ! 


170  NATURAL  HISTORY  RECREATIONS. 

A  line,  is  the  tenth  part  of  an  inch,  so  tliat  these  animals  are  2000  limes 
smaller  than  this  — .  Can  you  conceive  that?  Of  course,  they  must 
be  magnified  several  hundred  limes  to  be  seen  at  all.  Under  my  glass, 
magnified  about  300  times  across,  they  appear  about  the  size  of  the  pe- 
riod which  closes  this  sentence.  Some  persons  may  think  this  all  fic- 
tion, but  let  them  call  at  my  study  any  day  or  night,  and  I  will  convince 
them.  Seeing  is  believing.  They  are  developed  in  all  decomposing 
substances,  and  it  is  they  which  occasion  the  cloudiness  of  all  liquids 
in  which  animal  or  vegetable  matter  is  infused.  Some  of  this  family  are 
destitute  of  all  processes,  i.  e.,  appendages  ;  others,  have  ciliae  or  hairs, 
and  others  have  feet  like  processes.  Some  are  globular,  some  oblong, 
and  others  change  their  shape.  They  multiply  by  division  or  separation. 
You  can  see  this  process  under  the  microscope.  The  old  animal  gets 
a  furrow  through  it,  which  becomes  deeper,  until  it  divides  in  two,  and 
then  these  are  two  perfect  animals.  This  separation  is  going  on  con- 
stantly, and  requires  only  about  an  hour's  time,  so  you  may  have  an 
idea  of  the  number  of  them.  Does  it  not  seem  queer  to  talk  of  the 
depth  of  a  furrow  in  an  animal  that  is  more  than  one  hundred  times 
thinner  than  this  paper! 

The  Monads  (Monds)  are  the  smallest  yet  discovered.  They  are 
mere  globules  without  tail  and  eyes,  and  swim  very  rapidly  through  the 
water.  Immediately  behind  the  mouth  there  are  from  two  to  six  stom- 
achs, which  when  filled  with  coloring  matter,  still  do  not  embrace  half 
of  the  animal.  If  you  calculate  the  size  of  the  smallest  Monad  at 
~\\^o  of  ^  line, then  these  little  stomachs  would  be  only  g^'^^  of  a  line 
and  some  of  them  from  6  to  12000  times  smaller  ! ! !  The  smaller  spe- 
cies M.  Terms  is  2000  times  smaller  than  this — and  you  may  try  to  con- 
ceive how  many  of  them  could  be  contained  in  a  single  drop  of  water — 
•5000  million  is  the  number  calculated.  They  are  developed  in  infu- 
sions of  various  kinds.  Whence  do  they  come .'  How  are  they 
generated .''  The  atmosphere  is  essential  to  their  development,  and 
hence  you  may  say  that  their  eggs  are  floating  about  through  the  air 
and  accidentally  fall  into  the  water.  In  that  case,  the  air  must  be  so 
densely  crowded  with  the  eggs  of  many  hundred  species  of  infusoria 
and  thousands  of  millions  of  specimens,  that  it  would  be  rendered  ob- 
scure, and  ti-ilh  every  inhalation,  we  would  take  millions  into  our  lungs, 
•whence  they  would  be  mingled  with  the  blood.  They  would  be  devel- 
oped there,  and  what  would  be  the  consequence  ?  We  should  be  in- 
wardly consumed  with  infusoria. 

The  dusk  like  Monad  (Enchely  puhisculus)  is  oval  and  green,  and 
is  found   in  the  green  slime  attaching  to  wood   or  stones  in  ditches. — 


NATURAL  IllSTOUY  RECREATIONS.^  171 

They  are  large  in  comparison  with  the  former,  and  arc  only   loO  times 
smaller  than  a  line. 

I  wish  I  dared  enter  largely  into  the  description  of  many  of  these 
infinitesimals  of  creation,  but  my  limits  will  not  allow  it.  I  must  be 
very  general,  and  of  course,  not  satisfactory  to  many  readers. 

In  the  milt  of  fishes,  there  are  millions  of  minute  animalcules,  which 
have  tails.  The  Genus  is  Cercaria.  It  has  been  observed  that  the  milt 
does  not  perform  its  function,  until  these  animals  are  developed  in  it,  so 
that  they  act  an  important  part  in  the  economy  of  nature.  There  is  noth- 
ing too  small  for  God  to  work  with,  and  there  is  nothing  so  small  or 
mean  as  to  he  beneath  our  scientific  investigation. 

I  said  that  many  of  these  animals  are  furnished  with  ciliac  or  hairs, 
which  they  keep  in  constant  motion.  Some  of  them  have  these  only 
in  front,  and  by  their  motion  an  eddy  is  occasioned  in  the  water,  by 
which  still  smaller  animalcules  are  forced  into  their  mouths.  Many 
(amoeba)  have  the  faculty  of  assuming  all  sorts  of  Protean  shapes,  and 
are  constantly  undergoing  changes  of  appearance.  The  most  bizarre 
figures  are  taken  on,  and  immediately  they  assume  another,  so  that  you 
are  reminded  of  an  expert  posture  master  on  the  stage. 

Some  [Baccillaria)  adhere  to  each  other  and  look  like  a  tape  worm; 
then  they  divide  and  form  all  sorts  of  regular  figures. 

Some  ( Vorticella)  have  the  appearance  of  a  flower,  attached  to  a 
stem  by  styles.  This  style  is  spiral  and  can  be  extended  to  a  great 
length.  They  draw  themselves  back  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning  and 
then  gradually  unfold  the  style.  Their  appearance  and  habits  are  very 
singular. 

The  wheel  animal  (^Rotifer)  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable.  Its  ci- 
liae,  in  front,  look  like  wheels  which  are  constantly  turning  round  when 
the  animal  is  at  rest,  and  the  water  flies  about  in  a  complete  wheel. — 
Now,  all  this  convulsion  of  the  water  takes  place  in  a  space  not  larger 
than  the  smallest  word  in  this  sentence!!  and  yet  it  is  a  convulsion,  for 
under  the  glass  it  is  seen  in  a  violent  commotion,  something  like  the 
whirlpool  below  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  This  is  the  animal  which  is 
said  to  revive  after  having  been  dried  for  many  years,  and  hence  is  called 
Rotifer  rediviva. 

Endless  amusement  is  thus  afforded  by  the  microscope.  Thousands 
of  animals  may  be  seen  at  one  view  in  a  single  drop  of  water,  and  if 
you  have  good  eyes,  you  will  not  soon  grow  weary  of  looking  at  their 
fantastic  evolutions. 


172 

ANOTHER  LOOSE  LEAF. 

For  five  years  I  had  a  most  valuable  zoological  correspondent  at  Cas- 
sel.  He  was  the  most  liberal  exchanger  with  whom  I  ever  had  any 
commerce.  He  usually  returned  five  for  one,  and  all  his  JVaturalien 
were  so  clean,  so  neatly  labelled,  so  nicely  packed — the  boxes  were  so 
firmly  secured — so  perfectly  protected — his  letters  were  so  studiously 
worded — tlie  signature  was  so  precisely  written,  and  his  sonorous  title 
"KontroUeur  der  Staat's  Kasse"  so  conspicuously  marked — in  a  word, 
all  had  such  a  prinky  and  old  maidenly  air,  that  1  concluded  he  must 
either  be  a  bachelor  or  that  his  wife  helped  him  in  his  zoological  labors. 
The  wives  of  naturalists  do  sometimes  aid  their  husbands ,  and  it  was 
not  long  ago  that  a  correspondent  thus  wrote  to  me  :  "I  find  in  my  wife 
a  most  admirable  assistant."  (He  had  just  been  married.)  "She  writes 
my  labels — copies  out  in  her  beautiful  and  fair  hand,  my  spider  track 
manuscripts — mixes  my  colors  and  washes  my  brushes  when  1  wish  to 
draw  an  animal — sharpens  my  knives  when  I  am  going  to  dissect,  and 
even  this  morning,  held  the  leg  of  a  rabbit  which  ]  was  skinning — (it 
was  a  fresh  subject) — she  dusts  the  stuffed  specimens  so  profusely  scat- 
tered round  my  room,  and  keeps  all  things  snug.  You  would  not  now 
stumble  over  that  crocodile,  nor  sweep  down  with  your  cloak  that  bald 
eagle  as  you  did  when  you  were  last  here.  My  work  shop  is  as  snug 
as  a  parlor,  for  it  has  been  swept  with  a  new  broom.  In  her  anxiety  to 
help  me,  she  sometimes  even  forgets  to  give  out  the  meat  and  vegetables 
to  the  cook,  so  that  I  have  a  late  dinner,  but  n' imjwrte,  this  is  one  of 
the  saciifices  we  must  make  for  science."  But  I  have  forgotten  my 
German  friend  and  I  will  return.  Well,  I  mounted  up  to  the  fourth  story 
of  a  large  and  splendid  house  to  see  him.  I  had  gone  there  in  a  new 
two  horse  barouche — the  coachman  was  in  livery — his  blue  coat  was 
profusely  ornamented  with  silver  lace — his  breeches  were  of  stainless 
yellow  plush — his  boots,  the  tops  of  which  kissed  his  knees,  were  of 
shining  black — his  hat  was  banded  with  a  broad  silver  stripe  and  an 
enormous  leather  cockade,  after  the  fashion  of  a  peacock's  tail,  extended 
four  inches  above  the  top  of  it.  I  had  not  ordered  such  an  un-republi- 
can  equipage.  I  called  for  a  coach  and  this  was  brought,  and  any  gen- 
tleman will  be  accommodated  with  the  same  establishment  if  he  orders 
a  coach  in  the  office  of  the  Hotel  des  Romischen  Kaisen,  at  Cassel. — 
AVell,  I  mounted  to  the  fourtli  story  and  my  friend  was  not  at  home. — 
Could  not  1  have  learned  that  from  the  servant  below  .''  No,  for  in  these 
large  houses,  each  story  is  occupied  by  a  different  family — each  family 
has  its  own  servant.  All  you  can  ascertain  below  is,  on  which  story 
your  friend  lives,  and  that  is  usually  designated  on  one  of  the  numerous 


AXOTIIEIi  LOOSE  LEAF.  173 

bell  pullers,  or  by  a  portier  who  is  a  sort  of  directory  lor  the  whole 
house.  I  left  my  card  and  drove  home.  I  well  knew  that  card  would 
bring  my  friend  as  soon  as  he  returned.  It  was  not  long  before  a  gen- 
tleman rushed  into  my  room, — he  was  about  forty-five — extremely  pre- 
cise in  dress — somewhat  hurried  in  manner,  and  so  rapid  in  utterance 
that  I  could  scarcely  understand  him.  He  came  up  to  me  as  an  old  ac- 
quaintance. He  seized  me  eagerly  by  the  hand  and  overwhelmed  me 
with  congratulations,  at  such  a  rate,  that  I  could  not  slip  in  a  word  with 
the  little  end  foremost.  I  attempted  to  speak,  but  it  was  in  vain — he 
loaded  me  with  compliments — he  welcomed  me  to  Cassel — he  offered 
me  his  services — his  house — every  thing — he  considered  himself  the 
happiest  man  in  the  world  at  seeing  me,  and  a  long  string  of  equally  ex- 
travagant "  assurances  of  his  distinguished  consideration."  This  was 
my  friend  Herr  von  R — .  I  at  once  accompanied  him  home  and,  such  a 
day  as  we  spent  none  but  a  naturalist  can  imagine.  He  is  a  bachelor 
and  lives  in  a  style  becoming  a  high  officer  in  the  Hessian  Government. 
His  entomological  treasures  were  at  once  displayed,  and  we  revelled  in 
delight  as  drawer  after  drawer  was  opened  to  our  view.  Herr  von  R — 
is  a  most  industrious  naturalist, — he  is  quite  distinguished  in  one  depart- 
ment and  devotes  all  his  spare  time  to  the  cultivation  of  Zoological  sci- 
ence. We  were  as  intimate  and  familiar  as  friends  of  many  years  stand- 
ing, and  it  was  amusing  to  compare  the  ideas  we  had  formed  of  each 
other's  personal  appearance.  In  our  case,  as  in  most  others,  the  idea 
was  entirely  different  from  the  reality.  He  thought  I  was  an  old  man 
in  specs  and  wig,  with  a  rather  mahogany  colored  face  and  considerably 
sprinkled  with  pock  marks, — a  sort  of  aquiline  nose  and  high  cheek 
bones;  and  I  thought  he  was  a  young  man  with  a  ruOled  shirt  and  wide 
wrist  bands — with  numerous  rings  on  his  fingers,  and  redolent  of  co- 
logne and  pomatum.  A  noble  hearted,  upright  gentleman,  is  my  friend, 
Herr  von  R — . 

He  conducted  me  to  another  Savanl  of  Cassel,  who  received  me  af- 
ter the  genuine  German  fashion,  barring  the  kiss.  He  literally  screamed 
with  delight,  and  in  grasping  my  hand,  jerked  me  half  way  across  the 
room.  This  was  Professor  D — ,  of  the  Gymnasium.  He  is  a  geologist,  and 
quite  distinguished  in  his  department.  He  is  young,  ardent  in  the  pur- 
suit of  science,  and  enthusiastic  in  his  attachment  to  friends.  How  flat- 
tering it  is  to  an  American  abroad,  to  hear  such  men  speak  in  high  terms 
of  our  Savansat  home.  Prof.  D —  was  well  acquainted  with  the  names 
and  labors  of  many  of  our  geologists,  and  spoke  in  exalted  strains  of 
the  rapid  strides  our  young  republic  had  made  in  physical  science.  His 
wife  is  one  of  the  few  really  handsome  women,  according  to  our  Amer- 
ican standard,  you  meet  in  Germany. 


174  ANOTHEK  LOOSE  LEAF. 

The  next  day  I  dined  with  the  Professor,  in  company  with  a  Lieu- 
tenant General  of  the  Hessian  army.  Said  he  in  a  playful  style,  "One 
of  your  countrymen  has  greatly  injured  a  member  of  our  family."  "In 
what  way,  Sir.-"'  I  asked  with  much  concern.  "Why,  Sir,  my  father 
was  among  the  Hessian  troops  in  your  revolutionary  war  and  came 
home  minus  a  leg,  which  one  of  your  ugly  Yankee  bullets  knocked  off." 
"  He  had  better  remained  in  America  as  many  of  his  countrymen  did, 
whose  children  are  now  among  our  most  respectable  citizens,"  I  re- 
plied. "  All !  if  he  had  remained  there,  I  would  not  have  been  a  Lieu- 
tenant General  in  the  Hessian  army."  "  But  you  might  have  been  some- 
thing better  in  America,  and  possibly  Governor  of  a  State!" 

The  conversation  turned  on  the  sermon  we  had  just  heard  in  the 
Garrison  church,  A  whole  regiment  and  the  prince  were  there,  and  a 
splendid  mililary  spectacle  it  was,  "To-day  the  Prince  suffered  some 
in  church — Pastor  Martin  did  lay  it  thick  on  him,"  said  the  General. — 
"How  so  ?" — 1  inquired — "  1  did  not  observe  any  thing  particularly  ap- 
plicable to  the  Prince  ?"  "  Did  you  not  hear  how  forcibly  he  denoun- 
ced unfilial  conduct  ?  "  "  Yes. "  "  Well,  all  that  was  applicable  to  the 
prince,  probably  intended  for  him  who  is  at  loggerheads  with  his  father, 
and  rumor  says,  he  is  an  undutiful  son." 

After  church,  the  prince  reviewed  the  regiment  and  gave  audience  in 
the  street.  This  is  the  man  who  literally  bought  "  for  a  consideration" 
the  wife  of  another  man — married  her,  and  now  lives  with  her. 

I  had  a  letter  to  Professor  P — ,  and  was  highly  delighted  with  this 
world-known  conchologist.  He  speaks  English  better  than  any  Ger- 
man Savant  1  remember  encountering.  Most  of  them  understand  our 
language  well  enough  to  read  it,  but  few  speak  it  fluently  or  correctly. 
Prof.  P —  kindly  presented  me  with  several  Nos.  of  his  conchological 
journal,  and  showed  me  other  evidences  of  polite  attention.  He  is  a 
man  of  middle  age  and  vigorous  constitution. 

I  do  admire  the  frank  and  whole  hearted  generosity  of  these  Ger- 
mans at  home.  There  is  no  disguise  in  their  demeanor — no  hauteur  in 
their  bearing.  In  most  cases,  even  without  a  letter,  you  are  most  cordi- 
ally welcomed,  if  you  are  a  man  of  science,  and  even  if  you  are  not, 
and  announce  yourself  as  having  come  to  pay  your  respects  to  them  as 
men  of  science,  they  are  flattered  with  the  compliment  and  treat  you 
kindly,  if  they  are  at  leisure. 

There  are  several  naturalists  of  high  distinction,  in  Cassel,  and  not 
a  few  amateurs.  They  complain  bitterly,  if  not  loudly,  that  their  prince 
does  not  foster  science.  Prof.  P—  said,  ^'  Sir,  the  Hessian  soil  is  not 
favorable   to  the  cultivation  ol'  science."     "Dut"  said  I — "it  has  pro- 


ADVENTURE  WITH  175 

tlucecl  many  flourishing  plants,  for  are  not  you  and  Prof.  D — ,  and  Mr. 
von  R — ,  and  Dr.  T — ,  all  Itessians  r  "  "Not  all  of  us,  but  then  a  ste- 
rile soil  sometimes  produces  fragrant  flowers,  while  all  else  around  is 
crowded  with  noisome  weeds — without  a  figure,  Sir,  our  prince  does  not 
patronize  science."  Slill  most  of  these  men,  by  the  mere  force  of  ge- 
nius, have  gained  a  European  reputation  and  will  be  cherished  by  the 
scientific  world,  though  they  are  neglected  by  their  prince,  but  what  else 
could  you  expect  of  a  liian  who  would  buy  and  then  marry  another 
man's  wife  !  J.  G.  M. 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  "  BLACK-FEET       INDIANS. 

The  trading  party,  under  the  escort  of  which  I  placed  myself  for  the 
purpose  of  travelling  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  the  object  of  ex- 
ploring that  interesting  region  in  search  of  novelties  in  Natural  History, 
had  arrived  at  a  beautiful  little  grove  of  Cotton-wood  trees,  near  the 
head  waters  of  the  JVehrasca  or  Platte  River.  For  nearly  three  weeks 
previously  we  had  traversed  waving  prairies,  sandy  plains,  covered  with 
aromatic  worm-wood,  and  sterile  tracts  supporting  no  vegetation,  except 
the  short,  dry  buffalo-grass  ;  where  not  a  bird  enlivened  the  scene  with 
its  melody,  and  nothing  varied  the  dull  monotony  except  an  occasional 
herd  of  bounding  antelopes,  a  straggling  bison,  or  a  crouching  hare. 
We  had  not,  in  all  this  period,  seen  a  tree.  It  may  therefore  readily 
be  imagined  that  the  very  sight  of  this  Oasis  in  the  inhospitable 
desert  was  cheering  to  the  eyes  and  heart  of  a  young  and  en- 
thusiastic naturalist.  Our  matter  of  fact  fur-traders,  however,  did 
not  sympathize  in  my  delight.  The  party  passed  slowly  by,  but  1  found 
it  impossible  to  resist  the  impulse  to  explore  the  grove,  feeling  assured 
that  it  abounded  with  beautiful  birds,  wholly  unknown  to  the  naturalist. 
I  accordingly  fell  back,  taking  care  to  elude  the  observation  of  our  lead- 
er, whose  orders  were  peremptory  that  no  one  should  detach  himself 
from  the  main  body  on  account  of  its  being  known  that  hostile  Indians 
were  in  this  vicinity,  and  quietly  entered  the  wood.  After  dismounting, 
I  fastened  my  horse  by  the  long  "  trail-rope  "  to  a  sapling  on  the  verge 
of  the  forest,  and  in  five  minutes  was  in  my  glory.  As  I  suspected,  the 
tiees  were  literally  crowded  with  beautiful  birds,  most  of  which  were 
entirely  unknown  to  me.  The  arches  of  the  little  forest  rang  with  the 
rapid  reports  of  my  double-barreled  detonator;  new  birds  were  falling 
around  me  in  every  direction,  and  I  was  gathering  them  from  the  ground 
with  hands  that  trembled  with  eagerness  and  delight,  when  1  was  star- 
tled by  a  shrill,  quick  and  loud  neigh  from  my  faithful  and  affectionate 


]'76  liLACK-PEET  IN-DIANS, 

companion  tethered  on  the  borders  of  the  wood,     i  listened,  and  ni  an 
instant  distinctly  heard  the   clattering  of  horses   hoofs  upon  the  hard 
prairie  in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  in  which   the  party   had  travelled. 
To  deposit  my  cherished   specimens  in  my  game-bag  and   run  to  my 
horse  was  the  work  of  but  a  single  instant ;  and  well  it  was  for  me  that 
1  lost  no  time,  for,  within  forty  yards  of  me  came  three  tall   Indians  in 
their  war  paint,  their  horses  leisurely  trotting  on  the  trail  of  our  party. 
How  I  unbound  the  trail-iope  from  the  sapling  I  do  not  know ;  but  in 
an  instant  it  was  disengaged  ;  I  sprang  upon  my  horse's  back  like  light- 
ning, without,  as  I  believe,  touching  the  stirrup,  and,  with  the  long  rope 
trailing  on  the  ground   behind  me,  dashed  ofi'  at  top  speed.     At  this  in- 
stant the  Indians  could  not  have  been  ten  yards  from  me.     They  set  up 
a  simultaneous  yell  that  froze  the  very  blood  in  my  veins  ;  and  then  the 
whole   party  called   Abserbkie,   Mserbkie,  at  the   top  of  their  voices. — 
This  word  I  knew  to  be  the  countersign  of  the  Crow  Indians,  who  were 
at  that  time  nominally  friendly  to  the  white  traders,  but  I  had  listened  to 
more  than  one  story  of  this  call,  being  used  by  the  Black-feet  to  entice 
straggling  white  men   to  their  destruction,  so   I  spurred   on  faster  than 
ever.     I  knew   by  the  sound  that  I  was  gaining  on  my  pursuers  on  ac- 
count of  the  superiority  of  my  horse,  and  turned  in  my  saddle  to  assure 
myself  of  the  fact,  when  a  shrill   whistle  sounded  close  to  my  ear,  and 
instantly  after  I  heard  the  sharp   crack  of  a  rifle.     This  was  getting  to 
be  rather  warm  work,  and  I  commenced  to  sway  my  body  from  side  to 
side  to  elude  a  second  aim.     fn  this  I  was  perfectly  successful,  for,  al- 
though the  next  moment  another  gun  broke  the  silence,  the  leaden  mes- 
senger flew  wide  of  its  mark.  Slill  we  went  tearing  on;  the  sound  wax- 
ed fainter  in  the  rear,  and  wlien  I  looked  behind,  my  savage  pursuers 
were  quite  out  of  gun  range.     My  courage  revived  ;   I  pointed  my  piece 
with  one  hand  over  my  shoulder  and  fired  my  single  remaining   charge 
at  the  foe.    This  drew  a  long,  loud  yell  from  them,  evidently  expressive 
of  rage  and  disappointment.    ]\Iy  guii  had  been  charged  with  small  shot 
and  of  course  the  missiles  did  not  reach  one  tenth  the  distance ;  but  it 
had  its  efTect,  for  I  saw  them  halt  immediately  after,  and  apparently  en- 
gaged in  consultation.     I  gave  them  but  one  look,  and  dashed  on,  never 
relaxing  my  speed  until  the  rear  of  our  caravan  appeared  slowly  moving 
along  the  plain.     The  Indians  were  then  no  where  to  be  seen.     Upon 
joining  the  party,  I  mounted  a  fresh  horse;  and  thenceforth,  during  our 
long  and  tedious  journey,  was  careful  never  to  lag»far  behind  the  main 
body.  J.  K.  T. 

'  Philadelphia,  May  29,  lS-17. 


177 

REGIMEN  SANITATIS    SALERNITANUM. 

"Reader,  the  care  that  1  have  of  thy  health,  appears  in  bestowino' 
these  Physicall  rules  upon  thee :  neither  needest  thou  be  ashamed  to 
take  lessons  out  of  this  school,  for  our  best  Doctors  scorne  not  to  read 
the  instructions.  It  is  a  little  Jicademi^  where  every  man  may  be  a 
graduate,  and  proceed  Doctor  in  the  ordering  of  his  owne  body.  It  is  a 
garden  where  all  things  grow  that  are  necessarie  for  thy  heallhe.  This 
medicinable  Tree  grevve  first  in  Salerne,  from  thence  it  was  removed,  and 
hath  born  both  fruit  and  blossomes  a  long  time  in  England.  It  came  to 
me  by  chance,  as  a  jewel  that  is  found,  whereof  notwithstanding  I  am 
not  covetous,  but  part  the  treasure  amongst  my  countrymen. " 

Such  is  the  highly  laudatory  language  in  which  the  editor  of  "The 
Englishman's  Doctor"  of  1607  introduces  the  Schola  Salerni  to  his 
readers.  The  appeal  of  the  modern  French  editor.  Dr.  Pougens  of 
Montpelier,  is  somewhat  more  modest.  "Voici,  ami  Lecteur,  un  livre 
qui  vous  fera  sans  doute  plaisir,  car  vous  y  tronverez,  nous  1'  esperons, 
des  conseils  sages,  joints  a  1'  agrement,  1'  utile  dulci  d'  Horace."  Sir 
Alexander  Croke  offers  no  apology  for  his  edition  of  Oxford,  1830, 
other  than  the  simple  remark,  that  above  one  hundred  and  sixty  editions, 
all  now  exhausted,  sufficiently  attest  the  merit  of  the  work.  These 
considerations  will  serve  as  my  excuse  for  bringing  to  the  notice  of  the 
readers  of  the  Journal,  this  ancient  and  singular  treatise,  little  known 
out  of  the  medical  world,  but  having  charms  for  all  who  care  for  curi- 
ous learning.  It  is  indeed  somewhat  remarkable  that  it  should  be  so 
generally  unknown.  Jean  Paul  alludes  to  it  as  "  the  Salernic  spinning- 
school,  in  which  one  is  taught  to  spin  out  the  thread  of  life  in  fairer 
■wise  and  without  foreign  mixture,"  and  Carlyle,  in  translating  him, 
frankly  admits  his  ignorance  of  the  allusion, — an  ignorance  surprising 
in  a  person  of  his  singular  erudition.  The  fact  may  be  accounted  for 
by  the  professional  and  somewhat  technical  character  of  the  work. — 
Always  popular  with  medical  men,  it  has  now  assumed  a  value  for  the 
general  reader  from  its  mere  antiquity,  and  as  being  one  of  the  few  lit- 
erary relics  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  written. 

It  derives  its  name  from  the  Medical  Faculty  by  whose  authority, 
and,  perhaps,  by  whose  joint  labor  it  was  prepared.  The  city  of  Sa- 
lerno was  favorably  situated  during  the  dark  ages  for  literary  culture. — 
It  was  comparatively  removed  from  the  assaults  of  the  barbarians.  Af- 
ter its  capture  by  the  Normans  under  Robert  Guiscard  in  1075,  it  en- 
joyed a  degree  of  repose,  unusual  in  that  warlike  time.  It  had  intimate 
commercial  relations  with  Constantinople  and  all  the  ports  of  the  East.  It 
became  the  refuge  of  oriental  scholars  and  their  books,  while  its  students, 
23 


178  REGIMEN  SA.MTATIS   SAI.ERiVITANrM. 

by  their  proximity  to  the  Arabians,  were  enabled  to  become  possesse(! 
of  their  learning  also.  The  precise  date  of  origin  of  its  medical  school 
cannot  be  fixed.  Ordericus  Vitalis  speaks  of  it  in  1059  as  existing  "  ab 
antiquo  tempore. "  Giannone  asserts  that  it  existed  in  the  time  of  Pope 
John  VIH.  (872  to  882.)  Neither  are  its  founders  better  known.  Maz- 
za,  on  the  faith  of  an  ancient  chronicle,  asserts  that  they  were  Rabbi 
Elinus,  a  Jew,  Pontus,  a  Greek,  Adala,  a  Saracen,  and  Salernus,  a  Latin. 
Others  declare  that  the  medical  reputation  of  Salerno  was  originally  due 
to  the  cures  performed  there  by  the  bones  of  St.  Archelais.  The  more 
probable  story  is  that  the  founders  of  the  school  were  the  monks  of  the 
monastery  of  Monte  Casino,  founded  by  St.  Benedict  in  528.  tt  was 
about  this  period  that  Cassiodorus  recommended  to  all  monks  :  Legite 
Hippocratem  et  Galenum.  We  know  that  the  practice  of  physic,  and 
also  of  the  law,  \vas  in  the  hands  of  chiirchmen  until  the  decree  of  the 
Council  of  Lateran  forbade  it  in  1139,  and,  even  after  this,  they  contin- 
ued to  practice,  notwithstanding  the  decree  of  the  Council  of  Tours  in 
1163  and  that  of  Honorius  III  in  1216.  The  Jesuits  always  have  con- 
tinued to  dabble  in  medicine,  and  have  owed  much  of  their  missionary 
success  to  this  fact.  The  title  of  Pulvis  Patrum  was  given  to  the  Pe- 
ruvian Bark  from  its  use  by  the  Jesuits  before  it  was  received  into  favor 
by  the  profession.  The  monks  of  Monte  Casino  appear  to  have  prac- 
ticed medicine  according  to  the  rude  empirical  rules  of  their  day,  the 
principal  agent  in  use  being  the  lancet,  employed  both  as  cure  and  pre- 
ventive. One  of  the  most  curious  passages  in  the  ancient  Chronicle  of 
Jocelyn  of  Brakelond,  recently  published  by  the  Camden  Society,  is  the 
mention  of  the  gossips  of  the  monks  at  their  sociable  session  in  the  re- 
fectory, '■'■tempore  minutionis'''' — at  the  time  of  general  blood-letting. — 
The  first  abbot  of  Monte  Casino  mentioned  as  encouraging  medicine  is 
Bertharius,  who  was  murdered  by  the  Saracens.  Alfanus  the  Second, 
who  became  abbot  in  1057,  wrote  upon  medicine,  and  the  abbot  Desi- 
derius,  who  afterwards  was  Pope  Victor  III,  is  mentioned  as  a  skilful 
physician. 

The  fame  of  the  school  did  not  become  extended  until  it  had  gained 
itie  services  of  Constantinus  Africanus  in  1075.  He  was  a  native  of 
Carthage,  studied  thirty-nine  years  at  Bagdad,  travelling  occasionally, 
and  took  refuge  from  the  persecutions  of  his  rivals  at  Salerno,  where  he 
was  converted  to  Ciiristianity.  He  appears  first  to  have  made  the  monks 
acquainted  with  all  the  treasures  of  Arabian  learning.  His  disciples 
spread  over  all  Italy,  and  with  them  the  fame  of  the  school.  The  pu- 
pils became  numerous  and  soon  included  their  ecclesiastics.  There  is 
reason  to  believe  that  about  this  period,  tlie  practice  of  medicine  began 


REGIMEN  SAMTATIS   SALERMTANUM.  179 

to  pass  into  other  hands  than  those  of  the  monks.  Still,  we  find  St. 
Bruno  practising  physic,  until  his  death  in  1126,  and  the  archbishop  of 
Salerno,  Romualdus  II,  called  to  attend  medically  William,  King  of  Sic- 
ily, in  1127.  Some  of  the  names  of  eminent  physicians  which  appear 
about  this  time  are  apparently  Jewish,  and  it  seems  that  even  the  wo- 
men of  Salerno  studied,  practiced  and  taught  medicine.  Four  females 
wrote  acceptable  wofks  on  medicine,  at  least  one  received  the  honors  of 
the  doctorate,  and  Sentra  Guerna  stands  as  the  name  of  the  only  individ- 
ual of  the  fair  sex,  vvho  ever  filled  a  chair  of  the  Practice  of  Medicine ! 
The  School  seems  to  have  assumed  the  style  of  a  University,  about  the 
beginning  of  the  13th  century.  Its  faculty  consisted  of  ten  Doctors, 
the  eldest  of  whom  had  the  title  of  Prior.  Their  seal  bore  the  proud 
inscription  Civitas  Hippocratis.  The  form  of  conferring  the  degree 
was  peculiar,  the  Prior  placing  a  book  in  the  hands  of  each  candidate, 
next  a  ring  on  his  finger,  then  a  crown  of  laurel  on  his  head,  and  finally 
implanting  a  kiss  on  his  cheek  ! 

Such  was  the  School  which  produced  the  little  work  we  are  noti- 
cing. The  book  consists  of  aphorisms,  containing  instruction  for  pre- 
serving health  and  curing  disease.  The  first  lines  explain  the  immedi- 
ate object  of  its  composition. 

Anglorum  regi  scribit  Schola  tola  Salerni, 
Si  vis  incoiumen,  si  vis  te  reddere  sanum,  &c. 

Some  of  the  French  copies  read  Francorum  regU  which  is  evidently 
an  alteration,  and  is  regarded  by  Sir  A.  Croke  as  a  striking  evidence  of 
*'  that  mean  spirit  of  envy,  too  often  found  even  among  superior  French- 
men " — a  sweeping  condemnation  of  a  whole  people,  because  of  the 
follies  of  some  stupid  editor,  which  proves  only  the  surly  John  Bullism 
of  Sir  Alexander  Croke.  The  King  referred  to,  is  evidently  Robert,  the 
eldest  son  of  William  the  Conqueror.  He  passed  the  winter  of  1096- 
97  at  Salerno  on  his  way  to  the  Holy  Land.  He  returned  there  in  1099 
suffering  under  an  obstinate  fistula  on  his  arm,  arising  from  the  wound 
of  an  arrow,  supposed  to  be  poisoned.  Here  he  became  attached  to 
and  married  Sybilla,  daughter  of  Geoffrey,  Count  of  Conversano,  in  1100. 
The  next  year  (1101,)  according  to  Pougens,  the  fistula  still  remaining 
open,  the  Faculty  of  Salerno  gave,  as  their  opinion,  that  the  wound  was 
poisoned,  that  it  could  be  cured  only  by  suction,  and  that  whoever  per- 
formed that  operation  would  fall  a  victim  to  the  poison.  Sybilla  would 
gladly  have  run  the  risk,  but  her  husband  refused.  Watching  her  op- 
portunity while  he  slept,  she  sucked  the  wound,  he  recovered,  and  she 
received  no  injury.  This  story  is  of  course  apocryphal,  although  it  is 
certain  thai  Robert  recovered  his  health  under  the  judicious  care  of  the 


180  REGIMEN  SANITATIS  SALERNITANUM. 

Salernic  physicians.  At  his  request,  they  prepared  a  series  of  aphor- 
isms, which  may  be  divided  into  prophylactic  and  therapeutic.  These 
constitute  the  Regimen  Sanitatis,  or  Flos  Medicinae,  the  compilation  of 
which  is  generally  ascribed,  after  Haller  and  Eloy,  to  one  John,  of  Mi- 
lan. Pougens  says  positively  that  it  is  the  production  of  this  person, 
"alors  Medecin  fameux  et  professeur  dans  cette  Faculte,"  No  men- 
tion of  this  name,  however,  can  be  found  in  any  idocuraent  older  than 
1418,  and  Arnoldus  de  Villa  Nova,  who  wrote  his  commentaries  prior 
to  1363  makes  no  allusion  to  him.  The  physician  John,  who  is  men- 
tioned as  a  pupil  of  Constantine,  appears  to  have  left  Salerno  prior  to 
Robert's  visit,  so  that  the  whole  subject  remains  in  doubt. 

The  text  considered  most  correct  is  that  given  us  by  Arnoldus  de 
Villa  Nova,  which  contains  363  verses.  Others  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  adding  aphorisms  of  their  own  to  the  original,  so  that  its  value  to 
the  antiquarian  becomes  nearly  lost.  Pougens  asserts,  on  what  author- 
ity I  know  not,  that  the  original  contained  1239  verses.  This  edition 
contains  474,  many  of  which  are  the  production  of  his  countryman, 
Levacher.  The  character  of  these  may  be  inferred  from  the  following 
HomcBopathic  proposition,  which  makes  M.  Levacher,  if  he  be  its  au- 
thor, a  fair  subject  for  Father  Mathew's  benevolent  labors. 

*  Si  nocturna  tibi  noceat  potatio  vini, 

Matutina  hora  rebibas,  et  erit  medicina. 

This  sentiment  is  too  strong  even  for  M.  Pougens,  who  regards  it 
as  rather  a  plaisanicrie  than  a  piece  of  good  advice.  He  nevertheless 
is  loud  in  his  praises  of  good  wine,  permits  it  to  be  taken  after  a  full 
repast,  and  quotes  Ovid  as  authority  for  using  it  to  "•  drive  away  dull 
care"  and  procure  moments  of  pleasuie, — sentiments  not  consistent 
with  the  didactic  dignity  of  the  Schola  Salerni. 

Much  of  the  Piegimen  relates  to  articles  of  food,  condiments,  escu- 
lent and  medicinal  herbs,  bathing,  cleanliness  and  blood-letting.  I  will 
quote  but  one  aphorism,  which  is  well  worth  remembering. 

Si  tibi  deficiant  medici,  medici  tibi  fiant 
Haec  tria,  mens  leeta,  requies,  moderata  diaeta. 

Some  of  the  copies  put  the  comma  after  moderata,  which  has  puz- 
zled the  commentators  considerably.  The  amended  form  of  Lombard, 
who  endeavored  to  render  the  poem  classically  accurate,  reads  as  fol- 
lows : 

Si  desint  medici  hos  canones  servare  memento, 
Praestantis  medici  poterunt  qui  raunere  fungi. 
Mens  sit  Iseta,  quies,  mediocris  regula  victus. 


REGIMEN  SANITATIS  SALERNITANUM.  181 

The  burlesque  French  paraphrase  of  Martin  is  worthy  of  preserva- 
tion.    This  treatise  is  dated  1649. 

Trois  medicins,  non  d'  Arable 
'Ny  de  Grece,  ny  d'  Italie, 
Te  pourrent  ayder  au  besoin, 
Sans  les  aller  chercher  fort  loin, 
lis  sont  meilleur  que  1'  on  ne  pense, 
Et  ne  font  au  cun  depence. 

Le  premier  c'  est  la  gaiete, 

C  est  le  fine  fleur  de  Saute, 

C  est  de  notre  vie  la  sosse 

Sans  qui  vaux  mieux  estre  en  la  fosse. 
La  second,  Repos  modere 

De  corps,  et  d'  esprit,  assure, 

Fenne,  tranquille,  invariable. 

Le  troisieme,  c'  est  Courte  Tabic, 

Antrement  la  Sobriete, 

C  est  la  Grand-mere  de  sante, 

Si  nostre  Grand-pere  Hippocrate 

D'  un  faux  oracle  ne  nous  iiatte. 

Dr.  Philemon  Holland  thus  construes  it : 

When  phisicke  needs,  let  these  thy  doctors  be, 
Good  diet,  quiet  thoughts,  heart  mirthful,  free. 

William  Withie  (1575,)  renders  it  after  this  fashion : 

When  phisicke  hard  is  to  be  hadd, 
Three  things  may  be  in  steede. 
The  mind  in  noewise  must  be  sadde, 
Meane  reste,  and  diette  muste  thee  feede. 

The  anonymous  translator  of  the  "Englishman's  Doctor"  is  the 
happiest : 

Use  three  physitians  still,  first  Doctor  Quiet, 
Next  Doctor  Merry-man,  and  Doctor  Dyct. 

This  translation  is  cited  by  Burton  (Anat.  Melanch)  who  speaks 
highly  of  these  "  three  Salernitan  doctors, " 

There  is  a  deep  wisdom  in  this  humble  couplet,  and  it  seems  lit- 
tle wonder  that  such  extended  commentaries  should  have  written  upon 
it.  We  first  generally  forget  that  disease  is  never  a  permanent  state  of 
the  system.  It  is  a  dis-order,  which  tends  either  to  a  perfect  restora- 
tion to  health,  a  restoration  with  loss  of  parts  or  alteration  of  structure, 
or  death.  Most  cases  of  sickness  will  end  in  a  spontaneous  restoration 
to  health  or  the  normal  order.  AU  that  medicine  does  is  to  diminish 
the  number  of  fatal  cases,  prevent  accidents,  relieve  suffering,  shorten 
the  duration  of  disease,  or,  in  incurable  cases,  to  prolong  life.  To  as- 
cribe the  fact  of  recovery,  in  every  case,  entirely  to  the  medicine  used, 
is  a  blind  empirical  error,  out  of  which  quacks  have  generally  made 
their  capital.     Post  hoc^  ergo  propter  hoc,  is  a  logic  that  will  not  hold 


182  KEGIMEN  SAMTATIS  SALEUMTANUM. 

good  unless  there  be  shown  invariable  sequence.  The  man  who,  in 
the  story,  literally  swallowed  the  prescription,  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  a  cabalistic  formula,  could  give  an  unhesitating  testimony  to 
its  efficacy.  But  the  spontaneous  return  to  health  will  be  retarded  or 
accelerated  by  the  circumstances  of  the  individual,  and  among  these, 
none  are  more  important  than  the  three  mentioned  in  the  aphorism ;  the 
meaning  of  which  is,  that  in  the  absence  of  judicious  medical  care,  a 
calm  mind,  rest  and  diet  may  be  regarded  as  medicine,  while  they  are, 
under  all  circumstances,  powerful  adjuvants  to  other  treatment. 

The  mens  hilaris  cannot  be  too  much  insisted  upon.  Care,  anxiety, 
grief,  fear  and  remorse  are  frequent  sources  of  disease,  and  always  in- 
crease its  intensity  and  danger  when  arising  from  other  sources.  Men 
do  really  die  from  the  effects  of  the  depressing  passions  in  other  places 
than  in  novels.  The  venerable  man,  from  whom  I  received  the  first  les- 
sons in  my  profession,  used  to  tell  us,  in  his  quiet  way,  that  he  could 
not  say  much,  from  his  own  experience,  about  broken  hearts,  but  he 
had  seen  a  good  many  cases  of  Iroken  stomach.  Under  distress  of  mind 
the  digestive  powers  fail,  and,  if  long  continued,  there  is  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  incurable  dyspepsia.  If  it  can  so  seriously  affect  the  healthy, 
we  may  readily  comprehend  its  influence  upon  the  sick.  Hence  the 
sick-room  should  be  made  an  abode  of  cheerfulness.  Its  gloom  should  be 
dissipated  as  far  as  possible.  The  conversation  should  be  cheerful,  yet 
placid  and  unexciting.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  the  feeling  that  would 
hang  the  skull  and  cross-bones  as  a  memento -mar  i  before  the  eyes  of 
every  sick  man.  Let  him  contemplate  them,  when  in  health  and  full 
vigor  of  mind.  I  would  put  a  vase  of  fresh  flowers  in  their  place,  and 
by  all  means,  lighten  the  heart  of  its  load,  that  the  body  also  may  have 
rest.  Hence  the  gravest  philosophers  have  not  disdained  occasional 
recreation.  We  all  know  the  story  of  jEsop  and  hfs  bended  bow.  A 
more  striking  figure  to  me  is  that  of  Socrates,  in  Valerius  Maximus, 
when  "  interposita  arundine  cruribus  suis,  cum  filiis  ludens,  ab  Alcibiade 
risusest. "  We  must  not,  however,  confound  cheerfulness  with  mirth. 
To  be  happy  and  to  be  merry  are  two  different  things.  Pougens  well 
observes  that  the  truly  happy  man  is  he  whom  wisdom  has  raised  above 
the  influence  equally  of  desires  and  fears.  Hector  Boethius,  (Z)e  Con- 
sol.  Philos.)  has  a  similar  thought, 

Quid  tanlum  miseri  feros  tyrannos 
Mirantur  sine  viribus  furenteis  ? 
Nee  speres  aliquicl,  nee  extimescas : 
Exarmaveris  iinpotentis  iram. 

In  disease,  this  tranquil  mind  is  a  powerful  promoter  of  recovery, 
while  a  perturbed,  anxious  and   distressed  condition  as  much  retards  a 


UEGIMEX   SAXITATIS   SAI.ERXn  AM  M.  183 

cure.  Let  the  sick  man,  therefore,  abstract  himself  from  all  the  cares 
that  disturb  his  daily  life.  Let  his  friends  and  attendants  carefully  ex- 
clude every  cause  of  excitement  or  perturbation.  It  rests  with  the  phy- 
sician to  say  what  these  are,  and  hence  he  is  sometimes  thrown  into  the 
delicate  and  difficult  position  of  judging  the  character  and  amount  of  re- 
ligious conversation  admissible.  I  have  seen  the  visit  of  an  over-zeal- 
ous and  injudicious  religious  instructor  heighten  the  wandering  of  fe- 
ver into  fierce  maniacal  excitement.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  can  be 
more  soothing  and  pacifying  to  the  suffering  than  the  consolations  of 
Christianity,  properly  presented.  There  is  no  balm  that  can  so  assuage 
the  sting  of  disease  and  death  as  the  hope  of  the  Gospel.  The  best 
translation  we  could  have  of  this  medicinal  mens  hilaris,  would  be  a 
soul  filled  with  the  peace  that  passeth  all  human  understanding. 

The  requies  of  the  Salernic  Faculty  is  as  often  printed  requies  mod- 
erata ;  as  by  Pougens,  who  says  the  words  are  not  to  be  translated  "un 
doux  repos"  but  rather  "  un  doux  exercice,"  which  is  somewhat  dif- 
ferent. The  ditficulty  of  finding  any  meaning  for  the  words  is  met  by 
supposing  that  our  aphorism  is  purely  hygienic.  But  its  structure  evi- 
dently shows  that  it  relates  to  therapeutic  means,  which  may  be  resorted 
to  when  no  physician  can  be  found.  1  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  Alexan- 
der Croke  and  others  are  correct  in  asserting  that  the  adjective  refers  to 
the  subsequent  word,  and  not  to  requies.  Rest  is  an  agent  of  no  little 
power,  or  rather  1  should  say,  it  is  a  condition  indispensable  in  most 
cases  to  the  return  to  health,  whether  with  or  without  medical  aid. — 
Common  sense  would  teach  us  that  a  broken  limb  will  not  knit  while 
motion  is  allowed.  The  same  is  true,  in  some  degree,  of  every  dis- 
eased part.  It  must  be  allowed  a  season  of  repose,  which  is  sometimes 
sufficient  of  itself  to  allow  the  Vis  Medicatrix  JS^aturce,  as  it  has  been 
called,  to  complete  the  cure. 

Last,  though  not  least,  we  come  to  Dr.  Dyet — moderata  diceia. — 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  table,  as  asserted  by  the  proverb,  has 
slain  more  than  the  sword.  By  quantity  and  by  variety  of  diet  we  dai- 
ly offend  against  the  laws  of  health.  Hear  what  Burton  has  to  say  oix 
this  subject.  "  We  account  it  a  great  glory  for  a  man  to  have  his  table 
daily  furnished  with  variety  of  meats :  but  hear  the  physician  :  he 
pulls  thee  by  the  ear  as  thou  siltest,  and  telleth  thee,  that  nothing  can 
be  more  noxious  to  thy  health  than  such  variety  and  plenty.  Temper- 
ance is  a  bridle  of  gold ;  and  he,  that  can  use  it  aright,  is  liker  a  god 
than  a  man  :  for,  as  it  will  transform  a  beast  to  a  man  again,  so  will  it 
make  a  man  a  god  ! "     He  cites  as  a  good  example  Berengarius, 


184  REGIMEN  SANITATIS   SALERNITANUM. 

Cui  nor  fuit  unquam 
Ante  sitim  potus,  nee  cibus  ante  famem. 

We  can  easily  understand  that  an  agent  which  can  produce  so  much 
disease,  is  of  importance  in  the  treatment  of  disease  when  existing.  It 
is  indeed  not  easy  to  over-estimate  the  value  of  the  moderata  diceta  in 
medical  practice.  Celsus  informs  us,  that  by  the  Greeks,  physic  was  di- 
vided into  three  parts,  one  of  which  (the  S'latTTiriK}!,)  cured  diseases 
by  diet  alone.  He  also  informs  us  that  "  there  is  no  one  thing  more  re- 
lieves an  indisposed  person  than  a  reasonable  abstinence."  {Grieves^ 
TransL,  p.  79.)  Our  sick  would  be  somewhat  startled  at  a  Celsian  pre- 
scription to  give  the  patient  food  every  third  day.  Aretasus  is  particu- 
larly strong  in  his  praise  of  diet :  "  Si  recens  malum  sit,  ad  pristinum 
habitum  recuperandum,  alia  medela  non  opus  est. "  In  the  words  of 
the  School  of  Salerno  : 

Ex  magna  cosna  stomacho  fit  maxima  pcEna, 
Ut  sis  nocte  levis  sit  tibi  ccena  brevis. 

The  general  repose  and  quiescence  of  all  the  organs,  that  are  neces- 
sary to  recovery,  are  not  possible  when  the  stomach  is  distended.  Even 
in  health,  there  is  little  sleep  to  a  full  stomach.  Incubi  and  succubi  are 
swallowed  with  our  suppers,  and,  by  the  same  means,  we  too  often  neu- 
tralize all  the  therapeutic  effort  of  the  physician.  "Absolute  diet,"  by 
which  physicians  mean  absolute  want  of  diet,  "is  a  potent  means  of  cure 
in  many  cases."  The  Arab  physicians  of  our  own  time,  as  I  am  informed 
by  my  learned  friend,  Mr.  G.  R.  Gliddon,  cure  patients  of  many  obsti- 
nate skin  diseases,  by  keeping  them  for  sixty  days  on  an  allowance  of 
dry  biscuit  and  water  and  giving  an  alterative  ptisan.  We  can  readily 
understand  which  is  the  active  means  of  cure.  The  last  medical  nov- 
elty, received  from  Germany,  (where  they  can  manufacture  systems  of 
medicine  as  rapidly  as  they  can  Niirnberg  dancing  dolls,)  is  a  practical 
application  of  the  plan  of  diet  in  its  fullest  extent.  Its  inventor  is  one 
Schrott,  a  retired  serjeant-major  of  the  Austrian  service,  who  has  opened 
at  Lindewiese  in  Silesia,  what  he  calls  a  "  universal-remedy-establish- 
ment on  the  hunger-and-thirst  system."  (Grahani's  Grcsfenlierg,  Lon- 
don, 1844.)  His  treatment  consists  mainly  of  rigorous  diet,  and  if  suc- 
cessful, will  prove  the  truth  of  what  no  one  has  disputed  since  the  days 
of  Hippocrates, — that  rest  and  diet  are  often  enough  to  cure,  unaided, 
very  many  diseases.  I  would  merely  add  in  conclusion,  that  by  diet  in 
this  sense,  we  understand  total  abstinence  from  all  alcoholic  beverages. 

The  principal  error  of  the  aphorism,  is  that  it  confines  the  attention 
too  exclusively  to  the  three  important  points  mentioned.  A  fourth 
should  be  added,  ijersonal  cleanliness.    The  bath  must  not  be  forgotten. 


COLLEGE  REMINISCENCES.  18o 

There  are  too  many  persons,  who,  in  the  words  of  Pougens,  "  ne  pren- 
nent  pendant  leur  vie  d'  antre  bain  que  celui  du  bapteme.  "  For  the 
benefit  of  such,  it  would  have  been  well  to  insist  upon  the  necessity  of 
maintaining  in  health  and  disease  a  sound  condition  of  the  cutaneous 
surface. 

I  trust  that  these  remarks  may  serve  to  give  the  unprofessional  read- 
er an  idea  of  the  character  and  value  of  the  venerable  Flos  Medicinae, 
which  has  not  yet  lost  all  its  fragrance.  It  is  by  no  means  the  only  cu- 
riosity of  medical  literature.  No  science  has  had  the  copious  bibliog- 
raphy possessed  by  our  own,  and  among  these  treasures  are  many  quite 
as  curious  and  iuterestinor  as  the  Regimen  Sanitatis. 


Philadelphia,  May  20,  1847. 


H.  S.  P. 


COLLEGE  REMINISCENCES. 

BY  AN  OLD  STAGER. 


"The  remembrance  of  youth  is  a  sigh."  Persian  Poet. 
It  was  a  cold  December  night,  and  I  had  just  lit  my  last  pipe,  pre- 
paratory to  a  philosophical  meditation  before  retiring  to  bed,  when  I  was 
roused  from  my  luxurious  arm  chair,  by  a  quick  succession  of  thunder- 
ing raps  at  my  front  door.  My  servants  had  been  long  asleep,  and  I 
went  down  in  study  mantle  and  slippers.  I  opened  the  door  and  there 
stood  a  young  man  of  about  eight  and  twenty  • — his  beard  was  of  four 
days  growth, — his  hat  had  the  regular  watch-house  kink,  bent  in  on  one 
side, — his  shirt  collar  had  soil  enough  on  it  to  plant  turnip  seed, — his 
eyes  were  inflamed  and  shone  like  polished  brass  buttons  on  a  seedy 
blue  coat, — the  corners  of  his  mouth  were  deeply  stained  with  tobacco 
juice,  and  his  whole  appearance  bespoke  the  poor,  drivelling  inebriate. 
As  soon  as  he  lecognized  me,  in  a  sort  of  hilarious  chuckle,  he  cried 
out,  "Ha!  old  codger,  I  have  got  you  at  last ! — how  d'ye  do,  old  fel- 
low ?"  I  shrunk  back.  "  What,  old  chap,  I  see  you  don't  know  me  ! 
— a  little  altered  since  you  saw  me  last, — don't  you  remember  the  poet 
of  No.  — ,  in  old  Nassau  Hall  ?  the  Sophomore,  who  led  his  whole 
class  in  Greek;  the  Junior,  who  distanced  all  competitors  in  Mathemat- 
ics; and  the  Senior,  who  walked  over  the  course  with  most  of  the  hon- 
ors ?  don't  you  remember  the  writer  of  the  Honoriads — the  orator  of 
the  Societies, — the  favorite  of  the  ladies, — the  presiding  genius  of  all 
convivial  clubs, — the  author  of  all  the  mischief — and  the  bore  of  the 
Faculty, — I  say,  old  codger,  don't  you  remember ? "  "  Stop,  Gor- 
don,— I  know  you  well  enough,  and  am  very  sorry  to  see  you  in  such 
24 


iS6  COLLEGE   REMINISCENCES. 

n  plight.  "     I  took  the  poor  inebriate  in,  and  disposed  of  him  as  I  could 
for  the  night,  intending  to  learn  his  history  in  the  morning. 

It  was  near  noon  next  day  when  1  entered  his  room.     He  was  still 
in  bed,  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  he  wept  convulsively.     I  tried  to 
soothe  his  tortured  feelings,  but  he  refused  to  be  comforted.     1  had'nt 
seen  Gordon  for  twelve  years, — 1  had  lost  sight  of  him  amid  the  bustle 
of  professional  life,  and  only  remembered  him  as  the  gay,  talented,  wit- 
ty, mischievous  collegian.     He  soon  told  me  the  story  of  his  melan- 
choly  career.     He  had  learned  to  drink  intoxicating  liquors  in  College, 
for  he  was  the  life  of  every  social  club,  keeping  the  bacchanalians  in  a 
roar  by  his  exhaustless   fund  of  stories,  inimitably  told,  and  charming 
them  by  songs,  sung  in  a  voice  of  exquisite  power  and  tone.     Thus  he 
continued  after  he  left  the  Academic  halls,  degenerating  every  year, — lo- 
sing credit,  health  and  reputation,  until  he  was  compelled  to  leave  his 
native  place,  a  bankrupt  in  fortune  and  character.    He  arrived  at  our  vil* 
lage,  pennyless — he  remembered  that  I  had  settled  there,  though  we  had 
had  no  communication  since  we  parted  on  Commencement  day,  twelve 
years  before.     1  compelled  him  to  remain  with  me  a  fortnight,  and  sup- 
plied him  with  every  thing  he  needed.    I  never  saw  a  more  grateful  and 
more  humbled  man.     From  that  day  he  renounced  the  use  of  alcoholic 
stimulants,  and  vowed  before  God  and  myself,  that  he  would  forever 
totally  abstain.    "  Dr. " — said  he — "  I  swear  by  Him,  who  " — "No,  Gor- 
don, do  not  swear," — I  replied, — "  there's  no  necessity  of  the  solemnity 
of  a  positive  oath, — you  are  a  man  of  honor, — and  will  keep  your  word 
— resolve — promise — pledge  yourself  to  me  that  you  will  abstain  " — 
"  Well  then,  here  in  the  presence  of  the  Heart  Searcher  and  yourself" 
— and  he  looked  reverently  up  to  heaven — "  I  promise  by  His  help  nev- 
er to" — he  halted — "never  to" — ***   "never  to  taste  intoxicating 
drinks. "     He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  wept.    My  own  eyes 
moistened  and  for  a  while  we  were  silent.     He  wept,  not  for  regret  at 
parting  with  what  he  had  fondly  and  almost  fatally  loved,  but  at  the 
thought  of  what  he  might  have  been,  had  he  not  yielded  to  th«  voice  of 
his  accursed   seducer.     Two  years  have  elapsed  since  this  event,  and 
Gordon  is  still  a  sober  man.     I  procured  him  employment  as  a  subor- 
dinate clerk  at  a  Rail  Road  depot, — I  could  get  him  no  higher  birth,  for 
people  have  little  confidence  in  a  reformed  inebriate  ;— his  talents  for 
engineering  were  soon  discovered,  for  he  was  a  fine  Mathematician; — he 
soon  rose  in  office,  and  his  advance  has  been  so  rapid  and  his  services 
are  so  highly  appreciated,  that  I  would  not  be  surprised  to  see  him  Pres- 
ident of  the  Company  in  two  years  more. 

Alas !  hovv  many  noble  young  men  lay  the  foundation  of  their  ruin 


COLLEGE   REMIMSCENCES.  187 

al  College !  I  could  tell  many  a  talc  of  woe,  and  probably  shall,  in  the 
course  of  these  papers,  of  blasted  health,  of  broken  hearts,  of  lost  rep- 
utation, of  crippled  fortune  and  of  premature  death,  all  occasioned  by 
excesses  during  College  life.  All  are  not  disenthralled  from  the  iron 
bondage,  as  was  poor  Gordon,  but  many  continue  under  the  dominion 
of  the  tyrant  foe,  and  their  sun  goes  down  while  it  is  yet  day. 

Since  I  have  become  a  man,  for  1  was  a  boy  at  College,  and 
have  associated  as  a  man  with  my  former  Professors,  I  have  been 
surprised  at  the  accuracy  of  their  information  about  almost  every 
College  trick  and  the  chief  actors  in  almost  every  unlawful  College 
adventure,  I  presumed,  as  all  collegians  do,  that  the  Faculty  were  rath- 
er a  stupid  set  in  discovering  the  authors  and  promoters  of  mischiefj — 
that  they  had  no  suspicion  of  any  particular  man,  and  that  among  a 
crowd,  it  was  easy  to  escape  suspicion.  But  in  calling  to  their  recollec- 
tion this  praijk  and  that  disturbance— this  cracker  explosion  and  that 
instance  of  key-hole  closing,  I  was  amazed  at  their  knowledge  of  facts 
and  persons  connected  with  the  whole  transaction.  So  it  is  now ; — let 
young  men  know  that  no  hen  roost  is  robbed — no  iron  ball  rolled  in 
the  passage— no  out-house  fired — no  midnight  yell  screeched — no  acts 
of  rovvdyism  in  town  perpetrated, — of  which  the  authors  are  not  al- 
most certainly  known.  Young  men  flatter  themselves  that  no  body 
knows  or  suspects  them  : — herein  they  are  mistaken.  But  how  are 
they  known  ?  Not  always  from  observation,  but  from  a  perfect  acquain- 
tance with  the  general  character  and  temperament  of  every  student, — 
from  the  conduct  of  the  generally  suspected  immediately  after  the  oc- 
currence of  a  fracas,  for  few  young  men  can  wash  the  guilt  stains  from 
their  faces,  and  a  close  observer  of  human  nature  can  almost  with  uner- 
ring certainty  read  the  fact  plainly  written  on  the  countenance  of  a 
scamp,  especially  the  morning  after  an  adventure.  The  more  he  tries 
to  conceal  it,  the  more  plainly  it  is  revealed,  and  I  presume  there  are 
few  Faculties  who  cannot  go  over  the  College  roll,  and  say  to  the  au- 
thors and  generally  too,  the  abettors  of  almost  every  case  of  mischief, 
1'hou  art  the  man.  Young  men,  unsuspecting  themselves,  deem  others 
so,  and  having  no  knowledge  of  mankind,  presume  that  others  arc  as 
ignorant  as  they.  They  little  imagine  the  facilities  which  Faculties 
have  of  detecting  defaulters,  and  the  system  of  police  pursued  in  a  well 
regulated  institution.  It  is  true,  all  known  offenders  are  not  brought  to 
justice,  because  all  are  not  discovered  in  the  act  of  transgression,  but 
they  are  marked  men,  and  sooner  or  later,  they  are  caught  in  the  trap 
which  their  own  folly  has  laid. 


18S 

DESCRIPTION  OF  A  REMARKABLE  AURORAL  ARCH. 

BY  DANIEL  KIKKWOOD. 

During  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  April,  1847,  the  northern  sky  was 
illuminated  by  a  brilliant  aurora ;  the  streamers  sometimes  extending  at 
least  sixty  degrees  above  the  horizon.  These  disappeared,  however, 
about  9  o'clock,  and  shortly  after,  the  auroral  light  itself  partially  sub- 
sided. This  was  followed,  about  10  o'clock,  by  an  extraordinary  and 
magnificent  phenomenon — the  formation  of  a  white,  luminous  arch, 
having  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  tail  of  a  comet,  and  spanning  the 
heavens  from  a  point  about  20°  south  of  east,  to  another  directly  oppo- 
site, or  20°  north  of  west.  When  first  observed,  its  summit  was  a 
few  degrees  south  of  the  zenith,  which  position  it  preserved  with 
the  exception,  that  shortly  before  its  disappearance,  which  occurred 
about  11  o'clock,  it  gradually  moved  somewhat  further  southward. — 
The  arch  was  generally  about  four  or  five  degrees  in  breadth,  and  was 
observed  to  be  agitated  by  a  rapid  motion  from  the  east  toward  the 
west. 

As  this  appearance  was  undoubtedly  of  the  same  nature  as  the  ordi- 
nary aurora  borealis,  it  furnishes  an  opportunity  of  determining  the  im- 
portant and  much  disputed  question,  whether  that  meteor  is  ivithin  or 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  atmosphere.  On  this  subject,  Brande's  Ency- 
clopoedia  has  the  following  statements  : 

"There  is  great  difficulty  in  determining  the  exact  height  of  the  au- 
rora borealis  above  the  earth,  and  accordingly  the  opinions  given  on  this 
subject  bv  different  observers  are  widely  discordant.  Mairan  supposed 
the  mean  height  to  be  175  French  leagues.  Bergman  says  460  miles, 
and  Euler  several  thousand  miles.  From  the  comparison  of  a  number 
of  observations  of  an  aurora  that  appeared  in  March,  1826,  made  at  dif- 
ferent places  in  the  north  of  England  and  south  of  Scotland,  Dr.  Dal- 
ton,  in  a  paper  presented  to  the  Royal  Society,  computed  its  height  to 
be  about  100  miles.  But  a  calculation  of  this  sort,  in  which  it  is  of 
necessity  supposed  that  the  meteor  is  seen  in  exactly  the  same  place  by 
the  different  observers,  is  subject  to  very  great  uncertainty.  The  obser- 
vations of  Dr.  Richardson,  Franklin,  Ilood,  Parry,  and  others,  seem  to 
prove  that  the  place  of  the  aurora  is  far  within  the  limits  of  the  atmos- 
phere, and  scarcely  above  the  region  of  the  clouds  ;  in  fact,  as  the  diur- 
nal rotation  of  the  earth  produces  no  change  in  its  apparent  position,  it 
must  necessarily  partake  of  that  motion,  and  consequently  be  regarded 
as  an  atmospherical  phenomenon.  " 

In  the  present  instance,  it  is  evident  that  the  difficulty  here  referred 
to  does  not  exitst,  and  that  a  few  observations  made  at  points  considera- 


AUROHAL  ARCH.  189 

bly  distant  from  the  line  of  direction  of  the  luminous  arch  will  consti- 
tute data  for  ascertaining  its  elevation.  The  observations  which  1  have 
been  able  to  collect,  although  not  of  sufficient  accuracy  to  determine 
the  exact  height,  unquestionably  establish  the  fact  that  it  was  heyond  the 
region  of  the  atmosphere. 

The  papers  of  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Washington, 
Pittsburg,  Chambersburg  and  Carlisle,  all  describe  it  as  passing  either 
through  or  near  the  zenith.  Professor  Locke,  of  Cincinnati,  has  given 
in  the  Pittsburg  Gazette,  a  particular  description  of  the  appearance  as 
witnessed  by  himself  on  the  Ohio  River,  between  10  and  29  miles  below 
Pittsburg,  He  states  distinctly  that  it  passed  "  a  little  south  of  zenith." 
In  reference  to  his  description,  a  Philadelphia  paper  says  "  The  appear- 
ances were  exactly  the  same  as  observed  here  and  in  other  cities. "  A 
correspondent  of  the  United  States  Gazette,  writing  from  Dennisville, 
Cape  May  County,  New  Jersey,  describes  it  as  passing,  when  first  ob- 
served at  that  place,  '* directly  through  the  zenith."  He  also  mentions 
the  fact  noticed  at  other  places,  that  a  short  time  before  the  arch  began 
to  fade,  its  summit  swayed  several  degrees  to  the  southward. 

According  to  the  preceding  data,  the  elevation  of  the  luminous  band 
or  arch  was  certainly  more  than  50,  and  probably  exceeded  100  miles. 
This  fact  may,  we  think,  be  regarded  as  favoring  the  ingenious  hypothe- 
sis suggested  by  M.  Poisson  in  order  to  account  for  the  spontaneous 
combustion  of  aerolites,  above  the  limits  usually  assigned  to  the  atmos- 
phere :  viz.,  that  the  electric  fluid,  in  its  neutral  state,  forms  a  kind  of 
atmosphere,  extending  far  beyond  that  of  air  ;  which  is  subject  to  the 
attraction  of  the  earth,  although  physically  imponderable ;  and  which 
consequently  follows  our  globe  in  its  motions.  * 

Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  learned  from  the  London  Athenaeum 
of  January  2nd,  1847,  that  a  similar  phenomenon  was  observed  in  Can- 
ada, on  the  21st  of  September,  1846,  and  also  in  England  on  the  same 
night.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  during  that  evening  also  the  com- 
mon aurora  borealis  was  very  brilliant.  Mr.  Langton,  of  Fenelon,  Up- 
per Canada,  who  has  given  a  very  interesting  description  of  the  arch  as 
seen  at  that  place,  gives  its  geneial  direction  as  almost  exactly  east  and 
west,  and  its  average  breadth  about  4°.  He  states  likewise  that 
the  light  appeared  to  roll  from  cast  to  west  in  irregular  cloudy 
waves.  "The  beauty  and  singularity  of  the  arch,"  lie  says  in  conclu- 
ding his  description,  "  induced  me  to  observe  its  different  features  mi- 
nutely at  the  time  ;  and  the  coincidence  of  a  similar  appearance,  in  Eng- 
land, on  the  same  night,  has  led  me  to  communicate  the  particulars ; 
'See  Note  33,  p.  113,  of  the  English  Translation  of  Humboldt's  Cosmos: 
Published  by  the  Harpers,  New  Yoik, 


190  GREAT  UISCOVEIUES. 

more  especially  as,  from  the  large  portion  of  the  globe,  over  which  the 
electric  action  appears  to  have  extended,  it  may  probably  have  some 
connectior)  with  the  tremendous  hurricane  which  the  Great  Western  en-^ 
countered  that  night  on  the  Atlantic. " 


GREAT  DISCOVERIES. 

The  labors  of  the  illustrious  Faltenschwanem  in  the  department 
of  Classic  Antiquity  have  not  been  in  vain.  His  researches  into  man^ 
ners  have  been  particularly  rich  in  their  results.  It  is  known  to  all  pro- 
found scholars— and  of  course  to  all  our  respected  readers,  that  Prof, 
F.  has  proposed  to  himself,  as  a  main  object,  the  tracing  of  all  existing 
customs  to  their  primitive  origin.  Taking  as  he  does,  in  a  strictly  lit- 
eral sense,  the  declaration,  that  ^' there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun," 
he  has  endeavored  to  show  that  even  the  most  trivial  peculiarities  of  so-? 
cial  life  have  an  origin,  which  dates  back  of  the  memory  of  man ;  and 
his  most  untiring  efforts  have  been  directed  to  the  discovery  of  some 
great  primitive  type  of  usages,  which  will  bear  the  same  relation  to  man- 
ners that  the  Sanscrit  is  supposed  to  bear  to  languages.  The  public  are 
awaiting  the  appearance  of  his  magnificent  work  with  impatience.  We 
are  informed  by  the  learned  author,  that  an  unavoidable  delay  has  taken 
place,  owing  to  the  slowness  with  which  the  elaborate  engravings  are 
executed,  which  form  the  illustration  of  one  of  the  most  original  and 
profound  chapters  "on  the  rudimental  traces  of  the  coat  tail  in  the  time 
of  Hesiod,  with  a  comparative  sketch  of  its  rise  in  Antiquity,  its  merid- 
ian in  the  last  century,  and  its  present  decline. "  We  understand  from  a 
confidential  friend  of  the  author,  that  in  this  chapter  the  brilliant  para^ 
dox  is  started,  and  a  povverful  attempt  made  to  sustain  it,  that  Homer 
himself  was  provided  with  what  is  now  known  as  the  box-coat,  fur- 
nished with  enormous  pockets,  designed  for  the  reception  of  the  sup- 
plementary cold  victuals,  which  he  might  receive  for  his  singing  and  his 
performances  on  the  harp,  which  Prof  F.  shows  to  be  the  classic  father 
of  the  bango  of  our  land. 

We  have  our  information  from  the  lips  of  the  author  himself,  that 
he  has  traced  the  modern  practice  of  applying  the  thumb  to  the  nose 
and  with  the  fingers  grinding  an  ideal  colfee-mill.  He  says  that  it  is 
based  on  the  ancient  gesture  of  derisjon,  whose  memory  is  preserved  in 
the  line  of  Persius  (1.58:)  "^  iergo  qiiem  nulla  cicoia  pinsW — whom 
no  stork  pecks  at  from  behind — which  consisted  in  directing  the  bended 
forefinger  toward  the  object  of  contempt,  and  moving  it  in  imitation  of 
a  stork  pecking  witli  his  beak. 


191 

FLATTERY. 

When  soraei  doughty  champion  has  been  fairly  levelled  in  contro-' 
Versy,  how  often  do  friends  gather  around  him  giving  him  full  assurance 
that  he  has  gained  the  victory.  I  was  taking  my  morning  walk  in  the 
Eastern  part  of  the  city*  A  little  "  Dutch  "  boy  coming  up  the  cellar 
stairs  tumbled  side-\^ys  against  the  wall.  Two  streams  of  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks.  He  "roared  amain."  Up  rushes  the  anxious  father. 
"  Ach,  little  boy,  shust  see  here  how  he's  smashed  the  bricks  mit  his 
head. "  The  child  looked  and  seemed  to  see  an  enormous  dinge  where 
his  head  had  come  in  conflict  with  the  bricks.  Delighted  with  the  idea 
that  he  had  inflicted  a  greater  injury  than  he  had  received,  he  gathered 
up  his  dirty  apron  and  wiping  the  tears  from  the  channels  which  they 
had  worn  in  his  unwashed  face,  piped  merrily,  like  a  bullfinch  in  an  ec-* 
Stacy.  Self-confidence  sprang  from  the  bosom  of  his  grief,  and  the  com- 
pliment, which  gave  preternatural  hardness  to  his  head,  softened  his 
heart  and  nullified  his  pain. 


Naval  Appointments. — At  an  examination  of  candidates  for  the 
post  of  Assistant  Surgeon  in  the  Navy,  held  at  Philadelphia  in  April  last, 
nearly  two  hundred  presented  themselves  for  examination,  of  whom,  the 
following  were  found  qualified  and  assigned  to  rank  as  Assistant  Sur- 
geons in  the  following  order,  viz  : 

1.  W.  T.  Babb,  of  Pa.,  a  graduate  of  the  Medical  Department  of 
Pennsylvania  College. 

2.  R.  J.  Farquharson,  of  La.,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania. 

3.  A.  Robinson,  jr.,  of  Va.,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Mary- 
land. 

4.  E.  R.  Squibb,  of  Pa.,  a  graduate  of  the  Jefferson  College. 

5.  S.  G.  White,  of  Ga.,  a  graduate  of  the  Jefferson  College. 

6.  B.  R.  Mitchell,  of  Mo.,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Penn. 

7.  J.  S.  Gilliam,  of  Va.,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Penn. 


To  Correspondents. — Several  interesting  articles,  intended  for  this 
number,  but  crowded  out  for  want  of  space,  will  appear  in  the  next. — 
The  name  of  the  author  must  always  accompany  the  communication  to 
insure  its  admission  into  the  Journal. 


192 

COLLEGE  RECORD. 

Mr.  Editor :  As  the  Journal  professes  to  give  a  record  of  the' 
events  connected  with  the  College,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  furnish  your 
readers  with  some  account  of  the  Ciollege  Temperance  Society.  The 
idea  of  introducing  the  subject  was  suggested  by  a  late  interesting  meet- 
ing of  the  Association,  held  in  the  College  ChapqJ  on  the  29th  ull.,  at 
which  appropriate  addresses  were  delivered  by  Messrs.  Raby  and  Es- 
sich  and  Prof.  Baugher.  The  Society  was  originally  organized  in  the 
summer  of  1834,  and  was  in  successful  operation  for  several  years  ;  but 
in  consequence  of  the  strong  hold,  which  Temperance  principles  ob- 
tained in  the  institution,  and  nearly  all  the  members  becoming  pledged 
to  total  abstinence,  the  Society  was  permitted  to  lose  its  organization. 

Recently  a  very  successful  effort  was  made,  to  revive  the  Associa-* 
lion,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  interest,  which  has 
been  excited,  will  be  productive  of  good.  A  large  number  of  signatures 
to  the  Constitution  has  already  been  secured,  and  the  hope  is  indulged 
that  before  long,  every  student  cf  the  College  will  be  enlisted  under  the 
banner  of  Total  Abstinence* 

The  officers  of  the  organization  for  the  current  year  are  : — President 
— Professor  Stoever.  Vice  Presidents. — Messrs.  Jl.  C.  Wedckind  and 
A.  EssicJc.  Recording  Secretary. — Mr.  J.  K.  Plitt.  Corresponding 
Secretary .-Jfr.  J.  H.  Heck.   Censors.-Messrs.  P.  Baby  and  G.  C.Maund. 

The  speakers  selected  to  address  the  Associationat  its  next  meeting 
are  Messrs.   W.  M.  Batim,  R.  A.  Fink  and  J.  A.  Bradshawe. 

The  cause  is  certainly  a  worthy  one,  the  end  it  contemplates  most 
laudable,  and  the  Society  may  be  instrumental  in  preserving  many  a 
noble  youth,  for  whose  feet,  perhaps,  a  snare  is  spread,  from  a  dishonored 
life  and  a  hopeless  grave.  So  great  is  the  misery  which  the  vice  of 
intemperance  infuses  into  the  cup  of  domestic  happiness,  so  often 
does  it  cause  a  parent's  heart  to  bleed  over  the  son  of  his  love,  a 
mother  to  shed  tears,  the  most  bitter,  over  a  child  early  ruined — 
so  blighting  is  its  influence,  so  fatal  its  power,  so  sad  its  consequences, 
that  the  most  earnest  efforts  should  be  put  forth  to  arrest  the  entrance 
of  a  young  man  into  the  temple  of  Bacchus,  before  the  coils  of  the 
dragon  are  twisted  around  him,  and  the  poison  of  its  fangs  is  rankling 
in  his  veins. 

Pennsylvania  College. — The  Summer  Session  of  the  Institution 
opened  on  the  20th  of  May.  The  students  of  the  last  term  have  gener- 
ally returned,  the  accession  of  new  ones  is  larger  than  was  expected, 
and  as  we  have  been  in  operation  scarcely  a  fortnight,  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  the  number  will  be  considerably  increased. 


Receipts  during  iSkf>h 

Hcv.  Dr.  J.  C.  Baker,  LancHslcr,  Fa. 

Rev  N.  n.  Cornell,  llave-roid.  Pa. 

Rev.  J.  Kohler,  Willianisport,  Pa, 

Rev.  A.  Welling,  Middlclown.  Pa, 

Rev.  Levi  Williams, 

Rev.  S.  Oswald,  T  ork,  }*a. 

T.  D.  James,  Esq.  Philadelphia,  la 

M    Frfiderick, 


M.  Frederick 


:vi.  1'  reuericK, 

N.  Richards  Mosely, 

Dr.  W.  H.  Lochman,  llarrisburg,  la, 

Dr.  Adam  Carl,  Greencaslle,  Pa. 

F.  G.  Sauerwein,  Baltimore,  Md. 

\\  K.  Heisley,  - 

Mrs.  P.  A-  M.  B.  Kyster,  .IcHcrson,  iUd' 

II.  C.  Kckert,  Littlestown,  Pa.^ 

W.  A.  Hnber,  Lebanon  Co..  Pa. 

R.  A.  Fink,  Gettysburg.  Pa 


R.  A.  Fink, 
W.  G.  G,eorge 
L.  IMathews. 
C.  IL  Dale, 
V.  Raby. 
C.  H.  Hcrsh. 
S.  O.  Cockey. 
G.  Sprccher, 
W.  11.  Hocdcl. 
A.  C.  Wcdokindr 


%2  00  V 

ols. 

•3  &t3 

i  00 

- 

3 

2  00 

- 

1  &3 

\  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

]  00 

? 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

\  00 

- 

3 

2  00 

- 

2  &3 

•2  00 

- 

2  k  3 

2  00 

- 

1  &.2 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

r 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

I  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

\  00 

- 

*> 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

i  00 

- 

3 

\  00 

- 

3 

Pcnnsijbania  College,  (©cttnGburg,  JJa. 

FACULTY    AND    INiSTRUCTORS. 

C.  P.  Krauth,  13.  T).— President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Pel.,  Eikirs,  gfc. 
Rev.  1H.  L.  Baugher.  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 
Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chrihistry  and  Mechanical  Philot. 
Rev.  W.  M.  Reynolds,  A  M.—  Prof.  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 
M.  L.  Stoever,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 
Rev.  C.  A.  Hav,,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  Literature. 
H.  Haupt,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Drawing  and  French. 
David  GfT.BERT,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  ^na.l.om>j  and  Physiology. 
JoHNT  G.  Morris,  U.  D  — Lecturer  0.1  Zoology. 
Abraham  EssrcK.— T»/o?-. 
JoH.v  K.  Pj.itt. —  Tutor. 


Pennsylvania  College  has  nov?  been  chartered  about  sixteen  years.    During  this  ; 

'  time  its  procures'?  has  been  such  as  to  ?;ratify  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  its  ' 

I  friends.     The   Trustees  have  much  encouraajement  to  hope  for  its  continued  pros- ; 

<  perity  and  to  expect  future  favor.  The  proximity  of  Gettysburs:  to  Baltimore  and  j 
Philadelphia,  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  the  morality  of  its  inhabitants,  the  cheap-  ? 
ness  of  livinsj  recommend  the  Collesre  to  the  patronage  of  parents.  The  course  ,' 
of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  of  any  institution  in  the  country,  i 
Th?  Preparatory  Departnt.eni  provides  for  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thor-  J 
ou9;h  Enprlish,  business  education,  in  addition  to  the  elements  of  the  JNlathematics  , 
and  Classical  Literature.  .  < 

The  College  Course  is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this  ' 
country. 

The  government  of  the   «fiidenls    is  parental,   mild  and   affectionate,  but  firm 
and  eneryptic.     Thev  attend  three  recitations  a  day.  Church  and   Bible  Class  on  . 
the  Sabbath,  and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  Freqnenlly  as  to  preclude  the  dan-  : 
s:er  of  any  irreat  irregularities.     They  are   all' required  to  lodge  in  the   College. 

,  Edifice,  special  cases  excepted. 

•        The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter  ; 

;  .lession,  $.<>6  62\:  for  the  summer  session.  .<J45  12!:.     Washinir.  .S'l"  00:  and  Wood. 

;  S'S  00.     Total  expense,  $121  75.    Boarding  can  bo  obtained  in  clubs  at  $1  00  per 

'  week. 

/       There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 

■,  April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance. 

]        The  Annual   Commencement  occurs  at  the  close  of  the  Summer   Ses.^ion,  thr- 

'  third  Thursday  of  8ef)tpmbcr. 

^Donation  to  Ctcibinct. 

From  Gro.  W.  Jlnuscholdcr,  a  number  of  Coins. 

dJonatioit  to  £ibvdrn. 

From  the  .Vcademv.  Proceedings  n[  the  .ACaderny  of  \^a1urril  Sciences  (or  Jan- 
uarV  and  February. 


Terms  of  the  I>EcoTtn  a.nd  Jour.val.    One  Dollar  per  annum 
iii  advance. 
Address — ■'-'•Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal^  Getlyshirg^  Pa.'''' 


IE   (U.) 

TriE 

[number  9. 

ITERARlf 

RECORD 

AND 

JOURNAL 

(Pf  tl;c  S'lnnatan  ^lesacjotipn  tff  Pcnn9J)Uinnio  (ffcUcge. 

JULY,    1847. 


COXDtCTEt) 


Mv  n  <S*ommtttee  of  the  Association. 


COrvTENTS. 

PIIII.OSOIIPY   OF   STORIMS,  -  -  -  .  . 

THE   WORr.n  AT  THE   ADVEXT,  -  -  _ 

GLACIERS,      -------- 

REMINISCENCES  OF  STUPEXT  I.!FE  IN  GERMANY, 
OYSTERS,        -------- 

COLLEGE   REMINISCENCES,  -  _  _  - 

INFLUENCE   OF   POLITE   LITERATURE  ON  THE   HEART, 
GREEK   AND   ROMAN  CLASSICS,  _  -  -  - 


193 
196 

202 
206 
210 
212 
215 
216 


Vr.   sheet,  ireriodical — Posfage,  2i  cents,  to  any  distance  w:tliin  the  Union. 
NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OP  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  hi.  JULY,  1847.  No.  9. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  STORMS.      NO.  VI. 

BY  PROF.  W.  L.  ATLEE,  M.  D.,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

The  immense  force  of  the  steam-power,  generated  by  the  condensa- 
tion of  vapor  into  cloud,  must  be  apparent  where,  for  every  cubic  foot 
of  water  condensed  from  vapor  in  a  gaseous  state,  the  air  itself,  which 
receives  the  latent  caloric  of  the  vapor,  is  nearly  7000  cubic  feet  lar- 
ger in  bulk,  than  it  would  have  been,  without  having  received  this  latent 
caloric.  This  expansion  of  the  air  by  means  of  the  heat  which  previ- 
ously existed  in  the  vapor  is  the  result  of  calculations,  based  upon  es- 
tablished principles  of  chemistry,  which  never  have  been  contradicted. 
The  following  are  the  data  : — 

1st.  The  specific  heat  of  atmospheric  air  is  0.°  2669. 

2d.  The  sensible  and  latent  heat  contained  in  vapor  is  1212  de- 
grees :  according  to  Prof.  Johnson  1242  degrees.  * 

3d.  Air  is  expanded  1-460  its  bulk  at  zero,  for  every  degree  of  Fah- 
renheit to  which  it  may  be  heated. 

For  example  :  a  pound  of  steam,  at  the  temperature  of  212°,  con- 
tains 1000*^  of  caloric  of  elasticity,  and  as  the  sum  of  the  latent  and 
sensible  caloric  of  steam  is  the  same  at  all  temperatures,  it  follows,  that 
a  pound  of  steam  being  condensed  in  1180  lbs.  of  water  at  32°,  would 
heat  this  water  up  one  degree  ;  and,  as  the  specific  caloric  of  air  is  only 
0°.  2669,  if  a  pound  of  vapor  should  be  condensed  in  1 180  pounds  of 
air,  it  would  heat  that  air  nearly  4  degrees,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  it  would  heat  100  pounds  of  air  about  45  degrees.  And  in  all 
these  cases  it  would  expand  the  air  about  8,000  times  the  bulk  of  water 
generated  ;  that  is,  8,000  cubic  feet  for  every  cubic  foot  of  water  formed 
out  of  the  condensed  vapor.  And  as  it  requires  about  1,300  cubic  feet 
of  vapor,  at  the  ordinary  temperatures  of  the  atmosphere,  to  make  one 
cubic  foot  of  water,  if  this  quantity  be  subtracted  from  8,000,  it  will 
25 


194  PHlLnSOPHT  OF   STORMS. 

leave  6,700  cubic  feet  of  actual  expansion  of  the  air  in  the  cloud,  for 
every  cubic  foot  of  water  generated  there  by  condensed  vapor. 

If,  therefore,  the  air  on  the  outside  of  a  cloud  cools  one  degree  for 
every  hundred  yards  in  height,  while  the  air  in  the  cloud  cools  only 
half  that  quantity  for  every  hundred  yards ;  and  if  every  cubic  foot  of 
water,  condensed  from  the  ascending  vapor,  expands  the  air  nearly  7000 
cubic  feet,  taken  in  connexion,  too,  with  the  fact  that  the  vapor  in  the 
cloud  has  a  specific  gravity  only  5-8  lbs.  that  of  the  air  outside,  it  for- 
cibly explains,  on  philosophical  principles,  the  cause  of  the  up-moving 
column  being  specifically  lighter  than  the  surrounding  air;  the  sinking 
of  the  barometer,  under  the  base  of  the  cloud  ;  the  immense  power  and 
velocity  acquired  by  the  condensation  of  vapor ;  and  the  self-sustaining 
power  of  a  storm  ohce  commenced.  This  last  circumstance,  in  my 
opinion,  is  a  feature  of  great  merit  in  Professor  Espy's  theory. 

This  great  expansion  of  the  air  in  the  cloud  will  cause  it  to  spread 
outwards  above  in  an  annulus  all  around  the  ascending  coluvin.  The 
barometer  will,  therefoie,  not  only  fall  below  the  mean  under  the  centre 
of  the  ascending  column,  but  it  will  rise  above  the  mean  under  this  an- 
nulus, outside  of  the  ascending  column.  And  the  increased  pressure  of  this 
annulus  will  cause  the  air  to  rush  in  towards  the  centre  with  greater  velocity 
than  itdid  before.  In  consequence  ofthe  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  being 
greater  in  the  annulus  or  border  of  the  storm  than  it  is  in  the  centre,  the 
air  must  descend  in  the  annulus  and  ascend  in  the  centre  of  the  storm. 
So  long,  therefore,  as  the  circumstances  are  favorable,  the  process  of 
nimbification  must  be  continued.  These  favorable  circumstances  are  an 
elevated  8ew-point,  hot  air  below,  and  a  slow  and  properly  directed  cur- 
rent in  the  upper  regions  of  the  atmosphere.  Whenever  the  dew-point 
is  high,  it  indicates  a  large  quantity  of  vapor  in,the  atmosphere,  and  con- 
sequently the  existence  of  a  great  steam  power  in  the  air  below,  and 
this,  also,  diminishes  to  a  considerable  extent  the  specific  gravity  of  that 
particular  body  of  air.  These  conditions,  even  unaided  by  increased 
temperature,  must  create  an  ascending  column ;  and  should  the  upper 
current  of  the  atmosphere,  at  this  time,  be  moving  so  slowly  and  in 
such  a  direction  as  to  permit  this  up-moving  column  to  penetrate  it  per- 
pendicularly, or  nearly  so,  then  the  formation  of  cloud  must  continue 
to  go  on,  particularly  if  aided  by  an  elevated  temperature  below. 

Many  causes,  however,  prevent  up-moving  columns  from  increasing 
until  rain  is  the  consequence:  I.  When  the  complement  of  the  dew- 
point  is  very  great — 20°  or  more — clouds  can  scarcely  form  ;  for  as  the 
column  must  rise  twenty  hundred  yards  before  cloud  can  be  formed,  it  is 
likely  either  to  be  dispersed  or  it  acquires  the  equilibrium  of  the  sur- 


PUlLOSorUY  OF  STORMS-  193 

rounding  air.  Clouds  may  form  even  under  such  circumslances,  but 
they  are  the  result  of  rising  masses  of  air  having  become  detached  from 
up-moving  columns  underneath.  If  these  clouds  be  closely  observed 
they  will  be  seen  to  dissolve  soon  after  they  form.  2.  When  the  ground 
is  colder  during  the  day  than  the  air  in  contact  with  it,  ascending  col-^ 
umns  cannot  exist,  and  of  course  cumuli  cannot  be  formed.  This  we 
sometimes  see  after  a  period  of  cold  weather,  when  a  warm  breeze  sets 
in  from  the  south,  saturated  with  moisture  to  such  a  degree,  that  a  por- 
tion of  it  is  condensed  upon  the  cold  bodies,  with  which  it  comes  in 
contact.  3.  When  there  has  been  a  great  rain  just  before,  up-moving 
columns  will  fail  in  producing  the  rain  cloud.  The  upper  air  has  still 
within  it  a  large  quantity  of  caloric,  resulting  from  the  previous  conden- 
sation of  the  vapor,  and  therefore,  the  ascending  columns,  for  want  of 
buoyancy,  will  not  continue  their  motion  in  it  far  enough  to  produce 
rain.  4,  When,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  the  air  at  some  distance  above 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  below  the  base  of  the  cloud,  is  very  dry, 
rain  will  not  be  produced ;  because  much  of  this  air  goes  in  below  the 
base  of  the  cloud  and  up  with  the  ascending  column,  and  consequently 
large  portions  of  the  air  in  the  cloud  may  thus  not  be  saturated  suffi- 
ciently with  vapor  to  produce  rain.  5.  When  there  are  cross  cur- 
rents of  air  strong  enough  to  break  into  an  ascending  column,  clouds 
cannot  form  of  any  very  great  size,  and  rain  cannot  occur. 

The  upper  current  of  the  atmosphere,  although  it  does  not  contri- 
bute to  the  formation  of  cloud,  has  much  to  do  with  its  integrity  and 
continuance,  after  it  has  been  formed.  In  order  to  insure  the  formation 
of  rain,  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  ascending  column  of  air  to  go  up 
sufficiently  high,  not  only  to  deposit  its  vapor,  but  also  high  enough  for 
a  large  quantity  of  this  condensed  vapor  to  accumulate.  For  this  pur-^ 
pose  a  favorable  condition  of  the  upper  current  is  necessary.  If  it 
should  be  too  strong,  or  its  direction  contrary  to  that  of  the  current  be-, 
low,  it  will  cut  off  the  tops  of  these  column  clouds,  no  matter  how  rap- 
idly they  may  be  generated,  Whenever  the  tops  of  these  clouds  are 
swept  off  by  the  upper  current  of  air,  the  heavens  become  studded  with 
them  in  the  form  oi cirro-cumuli,  which  are  a  sure  indication,  that  it  will 
not  rain  on  that  day.  The  reason  is,  that  although  enough  vapor  may 
be  condensed,  which  if  accumulated  in  the  ascending  column,  would 
ultimately  descend  in  rain,  yet  as  fast  as  a  cloud  is  generated,  its  top  is 
broken  offand  carried,  beyond  the  storm-power,  into  regions,  where  it  is 
reconverted  into  gaseous  vapor,  instead  of  falling  in  the  form  of  rain. — 
If,  however,  the  upper  current  is  in  the  same  direction,  and  of  similar 
velocity  with   the  current  below,  then  the  up-moving  column  of  air  is 


196  THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

not  arrested  or  broken  off  in  its  course,  and  the  vapor  which  it  deposits 
is  permitted  to  collect  until  its  weight  will  cause  it  to  descend  in  rain. 
Thus  we  find  that  even  though  the  dew-point  may  be  high,  and  all  oth- 
er circumstances  favorable  to  the  formation  of  cloud,  yet  the  want  of 
correspondence  in  the  direction  and  velocity  of  the  several  strata  of  air 
must  strongly  influence  the  production  of  rain. 

Besides  the  controlling  influence  exercised  over  the  forming  cloud 
by  the  upper  current  of  the  atmosphere,  it  also  acts  as  the  great  pilot  in 
directing  the  course  of  storms.  Impinging  on  the  upper  portion  of  a 
storm  cloud,  it  causes  it  to  lean  in  the  direction  towards  which  the  cur- 
rent blows,  and  carrying  this  part  of  the  cloud  on  before  it,  without 
destroying  its  continuity  with  the  lower  portion,  it  thus  leads  the  storm 
over  a  great  extent  of  country.  Were  it  not  for  this  wise  provision  the 
storm  would  be  comparatively  stationary,  and  confer  its  benefits  upon 
narrow  geographical  limits.  How  admirable  is  this  beautiful  contri- 
vance of  nature  to  cause  the  storm  to  move  along  over  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  and  shower  down  its  blessings  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust ! 


THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

To  obtain  clear  ideas  of  any  portion  of  the  era  in  which  the  incar- 
nation of  the  Divine  Word  opened  a  new  dispensation,  we  must  have 
at  least  some  general  acquaintance  with  the  colossal  power  which  at 
that  time  enthralled  the  greater  portion  of  the  world. 

The  Roman  Empire  had  risen  from  a  feeble  origin.  The  blood  of 
its  founders,- whether,  in  fable  or  in  truth,  they  had  sucked  the  strange 
dam  assigned  them,  coursed  madly  as  that  of  wolves.  Romulus  gave 
an  impress  to  the  national  character  which  ages  could  not  eflace.  His 
success  in  a  social  condition,  in  which  valor  was  its  only  pathway,  as 
well  as  the  poetic  legends,  proves  that  he  was  indomitably  fierce.  His 
own  character  was  transmitted  fresh  and  vital  as  original  sin,  in  the  strict- 
est creed,  to  his  nation.  Rome  traced  with  bloody  finger  her  name  in  the 
dust  of  every  land.  Often  beaten,  but  never  conquered,  catching  new 
spirit  from  adversity,  and  under  despair  itself  writhing  into  fresh  vigor 
her  defeats,  not  less  than  her  victories,  were  pledges  of  her  ultimate  tri- 
umph. 

The  Roman  Empire  at  last  became  tlie  world — and  its  monarch, 
king  of  the  world.  The  throbbing  heart,  which  tingled  and  thrilled  and 
quickened  the  nations,  was  Augustus.  He  said  indeed  "  The  Senate  and 
the  citizens  are  the  guides  of  the  Republic.  Their  governors  and  pres- 
idents, sent  by  their  will  and  subject  to  it,  rule  every  province  though  it 


THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT.  197 

be  at  the  world's  end.  If  vanquished  nations  are  still  ruled  by  their 
kings  and  laws,  it  is  by  the  sufferance  of  the  people.  These  were  their 
conquests,  and  these  are  the  objects  of  their  control."  These  fair 
words  were  designed  not  to  convey  but  to  conceal  the  truth.  The  sem- 
blance and  the  semblance  only  of  freedom  remained  with  the  Senate 
and  citizens.  One  man  was  Rome — one  man  was  the  world.  His  ti- 
tles were  High  Priest,  Censor,  Tribune,  Proconsul,  Emperor,  and  in  a 
Roman's  eyes  scarcely  higher  than  the  last,  God.  He  had  all  titles 
of  power,  and  no  title  was  a  sinecure.  He  could  afford  to  tell  the  peo- 
ple they  were  free. 

A  splendor,  not  entirely  his  due,  has  been  thrown  around  Augustus. 
His  age  was  pre-eminently  one  of  Literature  and  the  Arts.  The  sweet 
song  of  Virgil,  the  polished  wit  of  Horace,  the  elevated  taste  and  muni- 
ficence of  Mecaenas,  have  not  been  without  their  effect,  in  ennobling  the 
Emperor  under  whose  reign  and  in  whose  court  they  flourished.  Au- 
gustus himself  was  a  judicious  critic  and  an  excellent  writer.  So  atten- 
tive was  he  to  accuracy  of  expression,  that  even  in  discussing  a  subject 
of  importance  with  his  own  wife,  he  would  write  down  every  word  and 
read  it  to  her.  His  encouragement  of  Literature  and  the  Fine  Arts  was 
munificent.  He  looked  for  men  who  presented  in  the  greatness  of  their 
intellect — God's  patent  of  nobility.  Mecaenas,  his  favorite,  has  left  a 
name  forever  equivalent  to  patron  of  the  Arts.  The  witty,  pithy,  and 
shrewd  Horace  comes,  to  hear  from  his  condescending  Emperor  re- 
proaches for  writing  such  little  volumes,  which  Augustus  declares  pro- 
ceeds from  his  fear,  lest  his  books  should  be  bigger  than  himself,  for 
Horace,  like  all  jolly  fellows,  past  the  memory  of  man,  was  short,  fat 
and  round.  Horace  was  troubled  with  a  flowing  from  the  eyes.  Virgil 
had  the  asthma.  The  monarch  sitting  down  pleasantly  between  them, 
now  turning  to  Horace  with  his  swimming  eyes,  and  Virgil  with  his 
wheezing  breath,  would  rally  them  by  saying  "  that  he  sat  between 
sighs  and  tears." 

In  the  character  of  Augustus,  we  may  doubtless  find  one  reason  for  the 
general  diffusion  of  literature,  the  noblest  literature,  for  it  includes  the 
Greek,  which  the  world  has  ever  seen.  The  arts  in  their  perfection 
with  the  most  subtle  and  comprehensive  philosophy,  found  their  way 
into  lands  where  they  had  not  been  before. 

But  with  all  these  splendid  and  deceptive  considerations  we  must  not 
forget  that  the  power  of  Augustus  was  based  upon  murder.  Cicero  was 
killed  by  one  of  the  Triumvirate,  of  which  Augustus  was  a  member. 
Among  his  successful  soldiers  were  divided  the  finest  lands  of  Italy.  Three 
hundred  senatois  of  Perusia,  after  its  surrender,  were  slaughtered  as  sac- 


J.98  THE   WOlil.D   AT  IHE   ADVE.M. 

rifices  to  tlie  shades  of  CcEsar.  He  divorced  liis  own  wife  to  marry 
the  wife  of  another,  from  whom  she  was  taken  by  force.  The  winning 
graces  of  his  manner  and  address  were  but  accessories  to  his  scheme  of 
making  himself  supreme  in  the  Roman  empire.  He  gave  a  splendid 
burial  to  Anthony  and  Cleopatra,  though  it  was  to  escape  from  his 
hands  they  had  slain  themselves.  As  though  this  were  not  enough  to 
satify  his  restless  apprehensions,  he  murdered  the  two  sons  of  Cleopat- 
ra, one  of  whom  she  had  by  Anthony,  ihe  other  by  Caesar.  His  ef- 
forts were  successful.  With  a  show  of  submission  to  the  Senate,  he 
stepped  into  the  throne.  The  splendor  of  royalty  hides  all  defects.  A 
prince  who  was  at  once  cruel  and  sensual,  had  altars  erected  to  him  du-^ 
ring  his  life,  received  the  title  of  Father  of  his  Country  after  his  death, 
and  has  been  handed  down  to  posterity  with  a  character,  in  which  every 
virtue  is  blended  with  every  grace. 

Yet  we  do  not  find  fault  with  Augustus  because  he  had  a  power  as 
absolute  in  degree  as  it  was  wide  in  extent.  Who  would  not  reign  if 
he  could  ^  Nor  do  we  blame  the  Emperor  for  all  the  evils,  which  un- 
questionably existed  under  his  government.  \n  a  kingdom  so  unboun- 
ded in  extent,  no  principles  could  be  perfectly  exhibited,  and  no  form 
invariably  carried  out.  But  when  extensive  provinces,  many  languages, 
conflicting  claims  pressed  by  stupidity,  avarice  and  cruelty,  concur,  of- 
I'ences  inevitably  arise.  It  is  enough  in  excusing  Augustus  and  the  Ro- 
man empire,  to  be  satisfied  that  mild  and  humane  laws  were  provided, 
which  exhibited  equitable  constitutional  principles.  Such  doubtless 
they  meant  them  to  be,  and  such,  perhaps,  we  should  allow  they 
succeeded  in  the  main  in  making  them.  Yet  the  truth  cannot  be 
hidden,  that  scarcely  louder  cries  were  ever  wrung  by  despotism  froni 
any  people.  It  was  a  proof  that  good  governments  do  not  necessarily 
govern  well.  Mild  when  his  own  ambition  was  not  concerned,  and  de- 
voted as  he  was  to  the  humanizing  arts,  had  the  body  of  Augustus  beei^ 
as  ubiquitous  as  his  mmd,  or  his  arm  able  to  keep  company  with  his 
heart,  his  would  have  been  a  people  as  little  misruled  and  as  happy  as 
is  possible  under  an  uncontrolled  despotism.  But  his  body  had  not  as 
many  atoms,  as  the  Empire  had  families,  and  the  bounds  of  his  domains  no 
created  arms  could  encompass.  The  ripeness  of  the  fruit  is  the  precur- 
sor of  its  rotting.  In  many  constitutions,  too,  the  secret  decay  of  some 
vital  power  is  not  only  unattended  by  aught  external  that  seems  to  mark 
its  decline,  but  that  very  disease  may  give  a  more  brilliant  hue  to  the 
eheek.  The  face  whose  flush  is  deepest  and  whose  eye  is  brightest,  is 
that  of  her  whose  frame  shall  soon  grow  wan,  until  she  draws  the  last 
faint  breath,  whilst  treacherous   Consumption,    who   laid  the   gem   on 


THE  WORI.B   AT  THE  APVEXT.  199 

her  eye  and  Uie  rose  bud  on  her  cheek,  whispers  to  death,  '^These  were 
our  tokens,  strike  here.'"  The  body  politic  of  the  Empire  seemed  how- 
ever to  exhibit  just  the  reverse.  It  seemed,  that  though  the  extremities 
might  be  diseased,  the  centre  of  life  was  sound. 

Rome  rioted  in  splendor.  Augustus  found  it  brick,  and  left  it  mar- 
ble. The  year  was  a  long  holiday— but  ruin  was  written  on  the  hag- 
gard brow  of  every  province  as  plain  as  Death  could  write  it.  The 
heart  seemed  sound,  and  no  irregularity  of  the  pulse  could  be  detected, 
but  the  purple  was  beneath  the  nails,  and  the  eyes  were  glassy.  Many 
of  the  magistrates  were  authorized  plunderers  ;  much  that  was  called 
justice  was  legalized  murder.  The  tax-gatherers  or  publicans  to  whom 
the  revenues  had  been  farmed,  extorted  to  the  last  degree,  ihey  sheared 
the  sheep  to  the  quick,  and  took  blood  with  the  fleece. 

Yet  in  this  huge  and  overgrown  empire,  the  hist  of  possession  was 
not  satisfied.  The  daughters  of  "  the  horse-leach ''  were  the  tutelaries 
of  Rome.  The  cry  of  a  people  crushed  by  what  they  had  already,  was, 
Give  .'  Give !  New  lands  must  be  subdued.  To  do  this,  new  forces 
must  be  raised  and  the  provinces  drained  of  wealth  and  men.  These 
seeing  that  the  choice  was  between  oppression  and  death  at  the  hands 
of  the  Romans,  or  at  the  liands  of  the  nations  against  whom  they  were 
led  by  their  conquerors,  rebelled  again  and  again.  Insurrections  were 
daily  things,  and  the  rumor  of  war  had  not  died  in  one  direction,  be- 
fore it  was  renewed  in  another.  The  Romans  had  almost  learned  to 
regard  defeat  as  impossible,  except  by  gross  mismanagement.  A  Ro- 
man army  never  dreamed  of  meeting  those  whom  they  could  not  beat, 
if  they  did  their  best.  A  defeat  in  modern  times  is  not  necessarily  dis- 
graceful to  the  general,  nor  distracting  to  the  monarch.  But  when  Var- 
us was  beaten  in  a  battle  with  the  Germans,  in  which  he  lost  three  le- 
gions, in  his  anguish  he  slew  himself,  and  Augustus,  when  the  news 
came,  let  his  hair  and  beard  grow,  and,  as  though  in  utter  despair,  often 
cried  out,  "  O  Varus,  give  me  back  my  legions.  " 

It  is  during  unquiet  times  that  great  revolutions  arise.  There  was  an 
excitability  of  the  nations,  arising  from  this  stale  of  things,  well  suited 
to  the  introduction  of  another  grand  cycle  of  divine  providence. — 
The  march  of  political  events  demanded  all  the  care  of  the  wise  and 
great  of  the  world.  Their  friendship  would  have  embarrassed  and  their 
enmity  retarded  the  progress  of  a  sublime  faith,  which,  in  its  lowly 
wanderings,  began  its  pilgrimage  among  the  illiterate  and  poor.  They 
followed  the  track  of  armies,  or  the  plans  of  the  mighty.  They  knew 
not  that  the  angels,  who  watch  the  world,  hung  around  the  foot-prints 
of  a  despised  Jew,  who,  when  their  names  and  their  empire  had  passed 


200  THE   WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

away,  should,  from  the  throne  of  his  glory,  at  one  glance  of  his  eye 
kindle  into  radiance  worlds  more  in  number  than  the  men,  whom,  in 
their  wildest  battle-dreams  they  had  seen  beneath  their  thralL 
Glutted  with  spoils,  satiated  with  pomp,  writhing  under  tyranny 
refined  yet  galling,  a  system  of  self-denial  and  of  universal  equality, 
like  Christianity,  would  at  least  be  likely  to  secure  from  them  a 
patient  hearing,  and  sometimes  a  hearty  response.  It  is  sometimes 
best  to  talk  to  a  man  of  the  virtues  of  moderation,  when  he  has  eaten 
himself  into  a  nausea  on  roast-pig — or  of  temperance,  when  his  head 
is  yet  aching  from  his  last  night's  revelry. 

In  this  wide  dominion  of  one  nation,  whose  power  was  embodied  in 
one  man,  were  eminent  advantages  for  the  wide  diffusion  of  new 
opinions.  Nations  were  formed  into  a  sort  of  confederacy.  Their 
common  centre,  the  imperial  city,  gave  them  unity.  This  tended  to  soften 
gradually  their  diflferences  and  erase  their  distinctions.  It  was  as  though 
the  great  God  in  his  Providence  had  reversed  his  work  at  Babel,  and 
had  descended  to  harmonize  the  many  tongues  ;  as  though  He  had  said 
"  their  language  is  confounded  and  they  understand  not  one  another's 
speech  :  "  "Go  to,  let  us  go  down  that  the  whole  earth  may  be  one, 
and  have  one  language."  Greek  became  the  medium  of  universal 
communication  among  educated  men,  and  to  a  great  extent  among  the 
people.  He,  who  multiplied  the  tongues  of  his  disciples,  was  lessening 
those  of  the  nations. 

Remote  countries  were  brought  together.  The  terror  of  the  Roman 
arms  was  the  safe-guard  of  the  traveller  :  "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen"  was 
the  dread  announcement,  at  vvhich  savage  bands  grew  pale  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  single  and  unarmed  man.  This  free  access,  with  the  union 
and  consolidation  which  it  occasioned,  was  itself  a  proof  that  God  de- 
signed great  changes.  Periods  of  great  national  concentration  always 
precede  important  revolutions.  There  was  this  compacting  of  the 
moral  world,  at  the  era  of  the  Reformation.  Mind  had  been  thrown  into 
great  masses,  and  cultivated  intellect,  through  the  medium  of  printing, 
held  converse  with  its  fellows.  The  density  given  the  world  in  our 
own  day  by  the  increased  facility  of  communication,  has  been  at  once  a 
cause  and  evidence  of  its  revolutionary  character.  The  road-makers, 
the  boat-builders,  the  printers,  and  the  telegraphers,  are  the  original 
movers  in  great,  civil  and  moral  convulsions. 

In  the  mine  of  one  nation  the  nitre  has  been  crystalizing.  Sulphur 
has  been  swimming  on  the  volcanic  bosom  of  another,  the  elements  are 
brought  together,  and  mingled  by  the  hand  never  seen,  but  doing  all. — 
Some  stupendous  event  inflames   them,  and  when   the    shower  of  torn 


THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT.  201 

fragments  cast  heaven-high  has  fallen,  and  the  smoke  has  rolled  away — 
there  lie  the  huge  fragments  ready  for  the  thoughtful  minds  and  earnest 
hands  of  the  builders  to  reconstruct  and  beautify  beneath  the  guidance 
of  Him  Who  sitteth  upon  the  Throne,  and  saith  "Behold  /  make  all 
things  new." 

It  was  in  exact  keeping  with  the  economy  of  the  divine  providence 
to  introduce  the  gospel  at  just  such  a  period.  It  is  making  the  most  of 
selected  agencies.  It  is  human  wisdom,  in  the  trite  proverb,  to  kill  two 
birds  with  one  stone.  Too  homely  in  its  associations  to  be  applied 
to  Deity,  this  sentence  illustrates  a  sublime  verity,  which  tells  the 
secret  of  a  thousand  mysteries.  God  is  not  wasteful  of  his  power. 
He  makes  such  a  disposition  of  cause  and  effect,  and  throws  mind 
into  such  relations  with  the  material  world  that  every  impulse  produces 
the  greatest  possible  amount  of  influence.  All,  that  falls  or  rises  at 
his  bidding,  sustains  the  highest  place  it  can  bear  in  the  grand  and 
universal  destiny. 

There  was  perfect  communication  both  by  water  and  land  wiihin  the 
territorial  limits,  facilitating  the  journeys  and  the  preaching  of  the  bear- 
ers of  the  Word.  On  water  little  boats  glided  along  every  shore.  The 
goose-bosomed  vessels  with  prows  ornamented  by  beautiful  or  grotesque 
carvings  and  mouldings  in  metal,  of  beasts  and  men,  and  implements  of 
war,  mingled  in  every  port.  Ships  with  two  prows,  sailed  like  politi- 
cians, with  the  same  ease  backwards  or  forwards.  The  iron  anchor, 
with  two  flukes,  had  superseded  the  huge  stones  and  baskets  of  sand 
employed  in  the  heroic  age.  Nimble  sailors  ran  to  the  cup  above  the 
yard  of  the  vessel  to  obtain  a  distant  view — and  the  lead  was  heard 
plunging  in  the  water  as  now.  The  ships  with  three  banks  of  oars 
went  with  the  rapidity  of  a  steamboat,  and  the  powerful  navy  prevented 
piracy  on  the  high  seas.  On  land  magnificent  roads,  whose  compacted 
strata,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  a  thousand  years,  are  left  unbroken, 
traversed  the  country  in  every  direction.  The  little  cow-path,  which  ran 
round  Rome  or  led  to  the  neighboring  villages,  gave  way  to  those  stu- 
pendous structures,  to  take  part  in  whose  formation  conferred  a  title  of 
honor  which  Consuls  and  Emperors  were  proud  to  add  to  their  names, 
and  which  was  thought  worthy  of  inscription  on  the.  tomb-stone.  They 
ran  straight  as  an  arrow  through  morasses,  down  ravines,  up  mountain 
sides,  and  ovei  rivers.  These  huge  trunks  cut  by  thousands  of  roads, 
each  less  models  of  the  great  national  arteries,  connected  the  whole 
Empire  with  Rome,  and  brought  the  ends  of  the  world  together. 

In  the  midst  of  the  local  wars,  to  which  we  have  referred,  the 
general  condition  of  the  Empire  was  one  of  peace.  There  was  enough 
26 


202  (;laciers, 

war  to  employ  ihe  restless  and  ambitious,  but  the  mass  of  the  people 
were  left  in  a  tranquility  highly  favorable  to  the  propagation  of  the 
truth.  Had  there  been  less  war,  the  new  Religion  would  have  suffered 
more  from  the  interference  of  those  in  power.  Had  there  been  much 
more  a  theme  might  have  been  furnished  to  the  popular  mind,  too  absorb- 
ing to  render  easy  the  introduction  of  any  other.  The  peace  was  con- 
sidered a  remarkable  one.  The  very  tradition,  though  a  false  one,  that 
the  temple  of  Janus  Quirinus,  closed  only  in  times  of  entire  peace, 
was  shut  at  the  Redeemer's  Birth,  is  a  proof  of  the  general  impression 
of  its  peaceful  character.  Augustus  indeed  had  closed  its  gates  about 
ten  years  before  Christ,  but  they  were  opened  the  following  year.  It  is 
said  they  had  been  closed  but  once  before. 

We  have  fewer  historical  facts  in  regard  to  nations  that  lay  with- 
out the  Roman  Empire — a  loss  not  so  great  as  it  sounds,  for  that  Em- 
pire embraced  almost  all  that  possessed  interest.  The  Eastern  nations 
were  crushed  by  tyranny,  but  indolent  and  voluptuous,  with  softened 
bodies  and  enervated  minds,  sufferance  was  to  them  more  endurable  than 
labor.  The  slavery,  by  which  they  could  purchase  ease,  was  more  con- 
genial than  the  liberty,  whose  price  is  perpetual  watchfulness  and  un- 
ceasing toil. 

The  nations  of  the  North  were  comparatively  free.  Their  nerves 
were  strung  by  the  bracing  air  of  a  colder  clime.  Their  mode  of  liv- 
ing gave  them  more  vigorous  constitutions,  and  their  religions  fostered 
a  fierceness,  which  was  sometimes  a  most  effectual  protection  against 
subjugation.  The  nations  under  the  yoke  were  almost  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  softer  climates.  In  the  colder  countries,  says  Seneca,  lying 
to  the  North,  their  minds  are  savage  and  severe,  like  their  own  clime. 

To  be  continued. 


GLACIERS. 

Vcrrons-nous  un  glacier  au  jourd  hui  ?  "  Shall  we  see  a  glacier  to- 
(]ay  ? " — said  1  to  my  guide,  whilst  clambering  the  Alps  on  the  20th  of  last 
June.  Oui,  Mons.  nous  verrons  dans  deux  heures  le  grand  glacier  du 
Rhone.  "  Yes  sir,  in  two  hours  we  shall  see  the  great  glacier  of  the 
Rhone."  1,  for  a  moment,  hastened  my  steps,  fearing  that  the  eternal 
ice  might  be  melted  before  I  got  there,  but  I  was  soon  bi ought  to  a  halt, 
for  I  was  exhausted.  It  is  no  holy-day  work,  pedestrianizing  over  those 
"  Alps  peeping  o'er  Alps  and  hills  whose  heads  touch  heaven."  The 
hardest  work  I  ever  performed  was  footing  it  over  those  regions  of  ev- 
erlasting snow,  but  a  man,  capable  of  appreciating  the  grandest  scenery 


GLACIERS.  203 

in  all  creation,  is  richly  repaid  for  all  his  expense  of  sweat,  shoe-leath- 
er, and  money.  There  are_^some  men  who  will  look,  unmoved,  on  the 
falls  of  Niagara,  and  call  it  a  respectable  mill  dam,  or  will  see  nothing 
in  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum,  but  old,  lime-worn  walls.  Such  men 
should  stay  at  home  for  want  of  thought. 

But  I  was  going  to  speak  of  Glaciers.  I  had  read  much  about  them 
and  studied  the  theory.  1  had  looked  on  pictures  of  them,  but  could 
not  conceive  the  reality.  We  were  going  along  blithely,  picking  our 
way,  as  well  as  we  could,  over  rocks,  fissures,  mountain-torrents,  mud, 
snow  and  ice,  the  remains  of  avalanches,  and  had  just  passed  an  Alpine 
shepherd,  who  saluted  us  with  the  ordinary  "  Gelohef  sey  Jesus  Chris- 
tus,'^''  to  which  we  returned  the  accustomed  reply  "//i  eivigkeit,  Amen. " 
How  much  more  poetical  this  mountain  salutation,  than  our  cold  and 
unmeaning,  "  How  (Pye  do,  Sir  ?  "  "  Pretty  -well,  I  thank  you!  how  are 
youf''  Well,  just  as  we  passed  the  shepherd  and  turned  a  sharp  angle 
of  our  path,  on  one  side  of  which  was  an  elevation  of  3000  feet  and 
on  the  other  a  precipice  of  unmeasured  depth,  there  it  stood,  the  sea  of 
ice !  about  half  a  mile  off  to  the  right.  I  roared  with  delight.  I  was 
in  ecstacy.  I  danced  and  sang,  and  shouted  loud  enough  to  awaken  a 
hundred  slumbering  echoes.  I  did  every  thing  but  swear.  One  of  the 
most  ardent  wishes  of  ray  life  had  been  realized.  1  saw  a  glacier.  I 
had  seen  Niagara  and  the  Natural  Bridge,  and  had  explored  Mammoth 
Caves,  but  none  of  these  had  so  completely  unstrung  me  as  the  first  view 
of  that  sea  of  ice.  But  a  man  easily  loses  his  dignity  on  the  Alps ; 
that  ethereal  atmosphere  had  an  influence  on  me  very  similar  to  that  of 
nitrous  oxide  gas, — and  you  can  laugh  and  leap  and  sing  and  shout 
without  any  effort  or  expense  of  dignity. 

Can  you  conceive  of  a  cataract  of  water,  a  mile  wide,  fifteen  miles 
long,  and  500  feet  deep,  rushing  down  between  the  sides  of  a  mountain 
gorge,  in  a  state  of  tremendous  agitation  and  at  an  angle  of  45  ?  Can  you 
conceive  this  ?  remember,  a  mile  wide  and  fifteen  long !  You  have  the 
idea— have  you  ?  Well,  now  conceive  all  this  lUshing,  boiling,  bellow- 
ing "hell  of  waters"  all  of  a  sudden  frozen  into  solid  ice  and  standing 
still,  and  you  will  have  some  faint  idea  of  a  glacier !  the  end  of  it  is  in 
the  valley  and  the  top  of  it  away  fifteen  miles  up  in  the  regions  far 
enough  beyond  the  clouds, — it  winds  and  turns  and  serpcntizes  among 
the  eternal  mountains  far  out  of  sight.  Oh !  that  Glacier  is  an  over- 
whelming spectacle.  I  almost  think  a  man  will  live  the  longer  for  hav- 
ing seen  it ! 

But  let  me  be  more  didactic  ;  it  is  hard  for  mc  to  be  so,  for  I  would 


204  GLACIERS. 

love  to  pour  out  my  soul  burdened  with    ecstacy  al   the  bare  remem- 
brance of  this  awfully  sublime  spectacle. 

"  A  world  of  wonders,  where  creation  seems 
No  more  the  works  of  nature,  but  her  dreams.  " 

Glaciers  are  masses  of  ice,  encased  in  the  valleys  or  suspended  by 
the  flanks  of  lofty  mountains.  Their  extent  is,  of  course,  various. — 
Those,  which  occupy  the  valleys  of  the  Alps,  descend,  in  general,  from 
the  highest  summits  and  extesnd  down  to  the  regions  of  cultivation. — 
These  are  glaciers  from  16  to  18  miles  long,  and  even  more,  and  from 
1  to  3  miles  wide. 

They  owe  their  existence  to  the  eternal  snow.  When  this  increases 
to  an  enormous  extent  in  the  high  mountains,  and  moves  down  in  over- 
whelming masses  to  regions  where  it  partly  thaws  and  freezes  again, 
and  thus  increases  from  year  to  year,  a  glacier  is  formed.  The  solid 
mass  moves  on,  while  it  accumulates  in  the  rear,  and  thus  gradually  des- 
cends to  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  There  the  end  of  it  is  melted  away 
but  it  is  still  increasing  behind,  so  that  from  age  to  age,  it  presents  the 
same  unchanging  appearance.  The  water  of  rains  and  the  melted  snow 
■penetrate  the  interior,  where  they  freeze,  and  thus  the  huge  mass  is 
held  together.  This  is  the  transition  from  snow  to  ice.  The  freezing 
process  is  going  on  even  during  the  nights  of  summer,  and  already  at 
sun-down,  however  hot  the  day  may  have  been,  the  cold  is  intense. 

Glacier  ice  has  peculiar  properties.  The  volume  of  water  absorbed 
by  glaciers  is  very  unequal.  It  is  greatest,  of  course,  when  the  rays  of 
the  sun  act  most  directly.  On  account  of  this  unequal  distribution  of 
water,  and  from  the  fact  that  it  does  not  freeze  instantaneously,  the  ice 
is  not  of  equal  character,  like  that  which  the  cold  of  winter  produces 
on  rivers.  In  the  upper  strata,  (for  glaciers  are  strata  of  ice,)  the  ice  is 
composed  of  irregular  pieces  of  various  size  and  of  various  angles. — 
Some  are  nearly  round — others  angular.  They  are  not  always  united 
together,  but  the  larger  the  pieces,  the  less  the  cohesion.  Wind,  rain 
and  heat  make  the  ice  porous,  and  render  it  capable  of  being  bored. — 
Agassiz  had  occasion  to  bore  it  frequently  to  carry  on  his  observations. 
He  found  it  of  unequal  solidity,  and  discovered  the  softening  effect  of 
the  atmosphere  upon  it.  At  one  expeiiment,  he  bored  only  half  a  foot 
after  several  hours  work,  but  on  the  following  day,  after  a  heavy  rain, 
he  penetrated  a  foot  in  half  an  hour. 

The  color  of  the  ice  is  various  :  sometimes  it  is  white  and  from  a 
distance  it  looks  like  marble,  the  larger  pieces  are  pale  green,  sometimes, 
there  is  a  bluish  reflection,  and  sometimes,  rose  red.     Occasionally  the 


GLACIERS.  205 

most  splendid  azure  is  witnessed.     But  usually,  it  is  impure  and  dirty, 
in  proportion  to  the  stony  and  earthly  material  mingled  with  it. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Alps  say,  that  "the  glaciers  love  cleanliness," 
and  this  is  a  strange  fact.  Fragment* of  rock  or  wood,  which  fall  into 
the  fissures  without  reaching  the  bottom,  after  some  time,  even  if  it  is 
for  years,  come  to  the  surface.  You  would  in  vain  look  for  a  single 
imbedded  sione  in  the  exposed  ice  masses  at  the  lower  end  of  the  gla- 
ciers, in  walls  of  ice  of  a  100  feet  in  height.  This  is  explained  in  va- 
rious ways,  but  I  have  not  room  to  treat  the  subject  at  large. 

The  external  form  of  glaciers  depends  on  their  foundation.  If  that 
be  flat,  the  glaciers  will,  in  general,  be  flat.  If  the  foundation  is  an  in- 
clined plane,  the  glacier  also  has  an  inclination  towards  the  valley.  At 
the  lower  end,  they  are  usually  convex,  a  consequence  of  the  rays  of 
heat  reflected  from  the  walls  or  sides  of  the  valley,  by  which  the  ice  at 
the  sides  is  melted  more  rapidly  than  in  the  middle. 

The  surface  of  many  presents  undulatory  elevations  or  depressions. 
The  latter  appear  like  serpentine  furrows  running  in  every  direction  in- 
to each  other.  These  external  forms  are  subject  to  many  changes.  In 
a  few  years,  they  would  hardly  be  recognized,  so  great  is  the  change 
they  undergo. 

Some  glaciers  are  ornamented  with  a  variety  of  ice  pyramids,  or 
needles  of  considerable  height.  The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  occasion 
the  most  splendid  play  of  colors  on  these  pyramids,  and  exhibit  a  most 
magnificent  spectacle. 

At  their  lower  end,  they  not  only  present  abrupt  declivities,  but  also 
grottos  of  the  most  beautiful  blue.  Sometimes  these  grottos  are  100 
feet  high,  and  50  to  80  feet  wide.  Icicles  hang  from  the  roof,  like  sta- 
lactites in  a  care.  The  floor  is  covered  with  large  blocks  of  ice,  form- 
ed by  water,  dropping  down  and  freezing. 

But  why  even  begin  to  write  on  this  subject,  when  but  the  faintest 
sketch  would  occupy  more  room  than  can  be  spared.  It  is  a  prolific 
theme,  and  my  bare  notes,  hastily  scratched  down,  occupy  seven  or  eight 
pages.  Besides,  no  description  of  mine  can  approach  the  reality.  Go 
and  see,  and  if  you  postpone  your  visit  a  year  or  two,  I  will  go  with 
you,  and  by  my  counsel,  save  you  not  a  few  dollars  from  the  omniverous 
rapacity  of  Swiss  guides  and  landlords.  One  who  has  suffered  "some" 
is  well  qualified  to  give  advice  to  a  stranger  in  the  country  of  the  Alps. 

.f.  G.  M. 


206 

REMINISCENCES  OF  STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY. 
THE  CHRISTIAN   STUDENTS'  SOCIETY,  AT  HALLE. 

The  Christian  students'  society!  Why  call  it  Christian?  Are  there 
any  heathen  among  the  students  ?j  Hardly;  and  yet  there  is  some  good 
reason  for  designating  this  association  by  such  a  title. 

It  consists,  in  the  first  place,  of  pious  students.  Its  objects  are, 
to  promote  the  growth  of  piety  among  its  members;  to  increase  the 
love  for  thorough  and  independent  study;  to  attempt  to  turn  the  current 
of  opinion  among  the  students  against  the  practice  of  duelling ;  in 
general,  to  infuse  into  the  student-life  the  wholesome  spirit  of  the 
Gospel.  It  is,  in  short,  a  mutual  encouragement  and  improvement  society, 
among  the  confessedly  pious. 

Now  imagine  to  yourself  the  establishment  of  such  an  association 
in  the  midst  of  a  community  of  students  who,  whilst  they  profess  to  be 
studying  theology,  spend  their  evenings  in  carousals  and  debaucheries, 
in  duelling  and  licentiousness;  who  scoff  at  everything  like  vital  god- 
liness; and  even  make  a  boast  (I  have  it  from  authority)  of  preaching 
to  the  simple  villagers  in  the  vicinity  of  Halle,  in  their  abominably  vul- 
gar Burschen-sprache  ("  Wer  von  diesem  Brod  schmausen  wird  &c.  " !) 
Well  might  these  pious  young  men  designate  themselves  Christians  in 
contrast  with  such  baptized  infidels  as  these. 

But  do  not  suppose  that  this  designation  is  the  one  by  which  they 
are  generally  known.  Mucker-verein,  Pietisten-kneipe,  Kopf hanger, 
are  some  of  the  taunting  epithets  that  are  thrown  at  them  with  the  fin- 
ger of  scorn.  But  this  is  nothing  new.  In  any  community  where  the 
great  preponderance  of  influence  is  opposed  to  vital  religion,  the  hum- 
ble Christian  must  be  content  to  bear  the  name  of  hypocrite,  or  some- 
thing worse. 

In  1842,  this  society  numbered  about  thirty.  Their  constitution 
and  by-laws,  if  they  had  any,  never  were  produced  at  any  of  the  meet- 
ings at  which  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  present,  nor  did  I  ever  hear  min- 
utes read,  or  see  a  President  or  Secretary.  What !  I  hear  some  of  our 
parliamentary  Philomatha^ans  or  Phrenakosmians  exclaim ;  no  presi- 
dent or  secretary,  no  constitution  ;  why,  how  in  the  world,  do  they  get 
along?  How  do  they  keep  order?  Stop!  who  told  you  they  kept  or- 
der ?  You  must  not  go  to  Germany  to  seek  for  constitutions  and  order. 
You  can  find  order,  sometimes,  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  under  the  eye 
of  the  gens  cV  armes ;  but  do  not  seek  for  it,  when  the  people  are  left  to 
themselves.  Don't  expect  it,  above  all  things,  in  deliberative  assemblies, 
especially  if  they  be  of  a  theological  character.  Why,  I  very  well  re- 
collect upon  one  occasion,  at  the  Moravian  village  of  Gnadau,  near  Mag- 


STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY.  207 

deburg,  during  a  Pastoral  Conference,  that  my  hair  fairly  stood  upon 
end,  at  the  wild  confusion,  in  which  the  clerical  mass  were  vehemently 
bandying  about  the  venerable  Augustana.  1  could  scarcely  keep  my 
seat. 

But  I  am  straying  off  from  the  Christlicher  Studenten-verein.  Per- 
haps our  young  collegians  and  seminarists  !nay  learn  something  else 
from  them,  if  not  how  to  maintain  order  and  do  business  systematically. — 
Good  forms  and  rules  are  good  things,  but  a  little  more  life  and  a  little 
less  routine  would  be  of  essential  benefit  to  certain  associations  that 
might  be  named. 

The  Society  was  divided  into  three  branches,  and  held  tri-weekly 
meetings.  On  Tuesday  evening  tlie  three  divisions  met  separately,  (al- 
ternately in  the  rooms  of  the  students  composing  each  division,)  for 
the  purpose  of  exegetical  study,  reading  of  essays,  &c.,  and  on  Thurs- 
day evening  for  singing,  mutual  exhortation  and  prayer.  On  Saturday 
evening  the  whole  Society  met  in  a  larger  room,  hired  for  the  purpose, 
to  drink  beer,  smoke,  sing  student's  songs  and  enjoy  themselves  in  va- 
rious ways.  All  these  meetings  1  have  attended,  and,  taking  all  together, 
was  convinced,  that  this  society  was  doing  much  good.  It  seems  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  exert  a  favorable  influence  upon  the  German  theologi- 
cal student,  amid  the  circumstances  into  which  he  is  thrown,  and,  if 
continued  in  the  same  spirit  that  pervaded  it,  some  five  years  ago,  it  has 
doubtless  been  the  means  of  rescuing  many  a  heedless  youth  who,  com- 
ing to  the  Babel  of  theological  opinions,  with  views  unfledged  and  hab- 
its unsettled,  would  else  have  been  the  prey  of  the  first  smooth  ration- 
alist, into  whose  hands  he  might  have  fallen. 

Their  method  of  procedure  on  Tuesday  evening,  was  as  follows. — 
The  student,  in  whose  room  the  "section"  (of  about  ten)  was  meeting, 
played  the  part  of  Professor.  The  rest,  severally,  and  by  previous  ap- 
pointment, represented  the  most  distinguished  ancient  and  modern  com- 
mentators, with  whose  views  upon  the  section  of  some  gospel  or  epis- 
tle which  had  been  assigned  as  the  evening's  exercise,  they  were  ex- 
pected to  be  perfectly  familiar. 

The  long  pipes  are  filled  and  the  lighted  match  circulates  from  bowl 
to  bowl.  All  are  now  quietly  puffing  away  and  the  soi-disant  Professor 
commences  his  exposition.  He  has  delivered  himself  upon  a  verse, 
when  Mr.  Groiius.,  (Jr.,)  giving  a  smart  whiff",  reluctantly  withdraws  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  to  dispute  the  soundness  of  the  interpretation.  He 
has  concluded,  but  he  is  soon  convicted  of  unchurchliness  by  his  neigh- 
bors Harless  and  Chrysostom.  Origen  and  Tholuck  next  follow,  pre- 
cisely in  the   same   vein   of  sentimental   allegorizing,  but   the   palmis 


•  m 


208  STUDENT  LIFE  IN  GERMANY. 

( 

yielded,  by  common  consent,  to  JVeander,  who  seems  most  completely 
to  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  inspired  writer,  and  who  shows  trium- 
phantly that  his  interpretation  has  been  the  essence  of  all  the  soundest 
expositions  upon  the  passage  in  every  age  of  the  church  and  substanti- 
ally comprises  them  in  one.  The  Professor,  who  has,  in  the  mean  time, 
seen  the  basis  of  his  theory  gradually  disappearing  amid  the  fumes  of 
his  knaster,  now  expresses  his  cordial  assent  to  the  views  just  expressed 
and  proceeds  to  take  up  the  next  phrase  in  order. 

Coffee  is  not  an  indispensably  necessary  accompaniment  to  the  exer- 
cises, but  as  the  pipe  is  but  half  a  comfort  without  it,  that  stimulating 
beverage  is  seldom  wanting  on  such  occasions.  On  the  evening  which 
I  have  more  particularly  had  in  my  eye,  beer,  as  a  somewhat  unusual 
substitute,  took  its  place. 

The  exegesis  over,  next  in  order  came  the  essays.  An  admirable 
vindication  of  the  Herrnhuter,  (Moravians)  by  Herman  Plitt,  is  the  only 
one,  of  which  I  have  any  distinct  recollection.  The  subjects  generally 
were  historical,  often  sketches  of  the  condition  and  wants  of  the  church, 
in  the  various  sections  of  Germany  where  the  writers  had  lived.  Braes' 
picture  of  the  Grand  Duchy,  of  Brunswick,  now  occurs  to  me,  a  sad 
spectacle,  of  a  dozen  evangelical  clergy  among  about  three  hun- 
dred rationalistic,  with  nearly  one  hundred  expectants,  i.  e.,  candidates  in 
waiting,  a  vast  majority  of  whom  were  of  the  same  stamp  ;  and  Riigge's 
account  of  the  Temperance  efforts  in  Osnabriick,  with  their  (to  them) 
astonishing  success.  They  took  a  deep  interest  in  some  description  of 
American  revivals,  church  discipline  and  Sabbath  sanctifications  and 
Washington ian  reformations,  &c.,  &.c. 

The  meetings  on  Thursday  evening  were  particularly  interesting. — 
So  little  formality,  such  frank  sincerity,  such  unaflected  piety!  1  was 
highly  delighted.  The  exercises  consisted  of  alternate  prayers  and 
singing,  (all  standing  during  prayer  and  entering  so  cordially  into 
the  praise)  interspersed  with  an  exhortation  from  one  of  the  older  mem- 
bers, and  several  intervals  of  conversation  raised  upon  some  question 
of  practical  piety  suggested  by  the  hymns  that  were  read  or  that  rested 
on  the  mind  of  some  member,  who  came  to  the  meeting  with  the  desire 
of  having  the  opinions  of  his  brethren  upon  it.  An  instance  of  this 
kind  is  fresh  in  my  recollection  and  it  is  characteristic.  It  was  one  of 
the  younger  members,  who,  with  some  hesitation,  started  the  inquiry,  if 
it  might  ever  be  proper,  in  weighing  the  opinions  of  others,  to  give 
one-self  up,  for  the  time  being,  to  the  belief  they  were  true }  His  idea 
was  that  amid  so  great  a  variety  of  theological  Richtiingen  (schools — sets 
of  opinions,)  one  would  probably  not  fare  so  well  by  attaching  himself 


STUDENT   r.IFF,  IN'  GERMANY.  209 

firmly  to  one,  and  handling  the  rest  as  necessarily  wrong  in  the  main. — 
But  he  supposed  that  by  identifying  himself  first,  with  one  and  then 
with  another,  he  would  by  and  by  hit  upon  the  right  one  !  The  fresh- 
ness of  his  notions  was  sufficiently  apparent,  and  the  judicious  counsel 
was  promptly  given  to  examine  well  the  foundation  upon  wliich  he 
stood.  Just  such  is  the  feeling,  and  just  such  is  the  ntter  instability 
with  which  crowds  of  German  youth  enter  the  University.  They  see 
in  the  Theological  Faculty,  almost  every  shade  of  opinion  from  the 
strictest  orthodoxy  to  the  merest  Pantheism.  Into  which  current  shall 
they  fall }  Choose  which  they  may,  they  will  still  be  within  the  pale 
of  the  church.  Their  fate  depends,  in  no  small  degree,  upon  the  direc- 
tion of  the  letter  they  carry  in  their  pocket.  If  they  have  been  recom- 
mended to  a  man  of  God,  who  feels  for  the  tender  youth,  takes  an  in- 
terest in  their  future  course,  they  will  most  probably  choose  him,  and 
others  of  his  stamp,  as  their  preceptors.  They  listen  to  his  lectures, 
they  visit  at  his  house,  accompany  him  in  his  walks,  they  fall  in  with 
his  Richtung  and  are  safe.     Mutatis  mutandis — they  are  lost. 

I  attended  but  one  of  their  convivial  meetings,  and  that  was  the  last 
in  the  session.  The  whole  society  assembled  in  the  large  room  in  the 
rear  of  a  public  house.  At  one  end  of  the  room  was  suspended  a  bril- 
liant transparency— a  sword  encircled  with  palm  branches,  surmounted 
with  the  arms  of  the  Association,  consisting  of  a  quartered  field,  con- 
taining respectively  an  altar  and  two  clasped  hands,  a  harp  and  notes, 
two  books  pierced  by  a  pen  and  guarded  by  an  eye,  and  an  anchor  with 
a  bundle  of  rods,  the  whole  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  stars.  The  sim- 
ple repast  was  introduced  by  a  Segen-gesang,  i.  e.,  by  singing  grace,  and 
was  soon  despatched.  The  supper  was  not  the  object  of  the  meeting, 
it  was  a  mere  accompaniment.  This  over,  the  order  of  the  evening 
seemed  to  be,  every  man  to  his  pipe!  When  all  had  been  duly  filled  and 
lighted,  a  farewell  address  was  delivered  by  Riigge,  the  more  touching 
passages  of  which  were  enthusiasticully  received,  amid  a  great  ringing 
and  stamping  of  glasses,  to  say  nothing  of  the  potations.  A  new  mem- 
ber was  then  received  and  welcomed  by  a  cordial  grasp  of  the  hand  all 
round.  Songs  and  toasts  followed,  in  rapid  succession.  I  was  surpri- 
sed to  find  none  of  the  current  song-books  in  use,  but  was  informed 
that  particular  pains  were  taken  to  keep  out  all  vulgar  and  improper 
pieces,  and  each  member  kept  a  manuscript  note-book  for  the  purpose 
of  collecting  all  the  approved  airs.  Some  of  the  pieces  were  capital, 
and  the  popular  choruses  made  the  walls  ring  again.  A  history  of  the 
Society  was  now  read,  which  shovved  it  to  have  passed  through  some 
severe  persecutions.  Upon  one  occasion  heavy  charges  were  brought 
27 


1210  OYSTERS. 

against  it,  before  the  University  Court,  but  it  had  come  off  with  flying 
colors  and  was  now  enjoying  the  express  sanction  of  the  authorities. 

Plitt,  another  of  those  who  were  about  to  leave,  now  presented  to 
the  Association  a  handsome  original  drawing,  representing  two  students 
before  the  altar,  upon  which  were  standing  the  cup,  Bible  and  cross,  also 
the  altarc-over  emblazoned  with  the  arms  of  the  Association.  Their 
liands  were  firmly  grasped.  Above  the  altar  there  hovered  an  angel, 
supplicating  a  blessing  upon  them.  The  architectural  embellishments 
were,  appropriately  in  the  pure  Gothic  style.  A  simultaneous  burst  of 
applause  and  gratitude  was  his  vote  of  thanks. 

By  this  time  the  cloud  of  smoke  was  so  dense  as  to  render  objects 
indistinct  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  and  almost  to  suffocate  unsea- 
soned lungs.  I  was  about  begging  off,  when  I  found  that  the  Society 
never  kept  very  late  hours,  and  would  soon  disperse.  There  followed 
an  amusing  poem,  a  satire,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  upon  the  indolent,  in- 
flated, duel-fighting  student.     The  whole  wound  up  with  a  glee. 


OYSTERS. 


"  If  the  man  who  oysters  cries. 
Cry  not  when  his  father  dies, 
'Tis  a  proof  that  he  would  rather 
Have  an  oyster  than  his  father — " 

And  what  if  he  would  ? 

My  friend,  hast  thou  well  considered  the  matter,  critically   weighing' 

an    irreproachable    oyster  against   parental   dogmatism  ?    Or  art 

thou,  haply,  a  denizen  of  some  inland  region,  as  of  some  nether 
world,  whereunto  a  visible  oyster  hath  never  penetrated  ?  If  so,  thou 
mayest  admire  my  impiety,  while  I,  being  full  of  oysters,  would  pity, 
not  scorn,  thine  ignorance.  Abide  in  thy  bigotry,  nor  ever  stray  to  the 
sea-board ;  for  this  food  is  sweeter  than  the  lotus  of  Homer,  and  he 
that  eateth  thereof  shall  straightway  forget  his  kin  and  his  Western 
home. 

Oysters  ! 

"Sweets,  which  he  who  sings  them  knows."  Sole  pure  and  undefi- 
led  creature,  in  a  world  corrupted  and  accursed!  Oyster!  thou  art  ever 
good.  Like  the  sunbeam  thou  mayest  pass  through  every  change,  thy 
glory  is  the  same.  The  culinary  flame  may  modify — nothing  can  im- 
prove thee.  The  condiments  of  every  clime  may  humbly  minister  to 
thee,  may  diversify  thy  flavor:  but  after  all,  to  my  devoted  heart,  thou 
art  like  beauty  *•' adorned  the  most  when  unadorned."     Thou  art   thy 


'  OYSTERS.  21] 

only  parallel.  Salsifer  is  but  a  melancholy  souvenir  of  oyster  :  there 
is  no  substitute. 

Other  poets  may  praise  their  beds  of  acanthus,  of  roses,  oi  of  down, 
as  for  me,  if  I 

"  Knew  myself  to  build  the  lofty  rhyme,  " 

my  theme  should  be  Beds  of  Oysters.  Let  garlands  of  Kali,  Aph- 
rodite the  Ocean-queen's  laurel,  crown  his  brow,  who  jilted  the  fresh- 
water maids  of  Helicon,  and  sang  to  the  Nereids  of  the  deep  the  ''Loves 
oi  Oysters  " — an  everlasting  cliorus  to  their  epithalamium  ! 

Doubt  not,  ye  corseted  and  whale-bone-tortured  damsels,  if  the  oys- 
ter in  his  pearly  palace  caji  love ;  for  he  is  nearly  all  heart.  Doubt 
not,  ye  who  pride  yourselves  in  the  antiquity  of  your  blood,  whether 
he  ought  to  share  your  honors;  for  consider,  that  though  you  could 
trace  your  ancestry  back  to  Adam,  yet  the  first  oyster  was  created  be- 
fore the  first  Man. 

Good  reader,  I  challenge  thy  experience,  if  the  deglutition  of  this 
exquisite   creature  doth  not  awaken  within  thee  all    the  goodness  and 

meekness,  and  sweetness  of  thy  nature or  of  his  }     And  is  not 

that  a  moral  meat  which  hath  such  power  with  lapsed  humanity  ?  Is 
it  not  "angels"  food?  What  more  could  the  gods  themselves  desire, 
unless  it  be  a  sort  of  patent  self-opening  oyster,  warranted  to  keep  in 
any  climate  ?  I  can  refuse  no  man  money  or  service,  when  I  feel  the 
grace  of  the  oyster  within  me  :  he  cooleth  my  choler,  he  dissolveth 
ray  pride,  he  disremembereth  me  of  my  misfortunes,  he  maketh  my 
face  to  shine,  he  whispereth  to  my  soul  like  the  friendliest  of  friends. 

I  am  naturally  a  lovet  of  all  womankind,  nay,  I  adore  them  ;  but 
dost  thou  inquire,  "  but  ichat  ? 

Think  of  it,  reader!  I  suggest  no  common  oysters.  I  adduce  the 
large,  semilucent  oyster  of  York  River,  or  the  sweet  striated  Pongo- 
teague.     Behold  him  in  his  shell  of  dazzling  pearl,  beautiful  and  tender 

and  innocent  as  a  sleeping  angel, and  dost  thou  catch  that  errant 

odor,  so  subtle,  yet  so  divine  ?     Yes,  reader,  I  love  the  woman,  but  say, 

entre  nous,  don't  you  think  the   oyster  is  someioehat if  it   be  ever 

so  little . 

But  the  sex  is  in  arms  ;  and  shall  I  see  thee,  O  oyster!  anniliilated.^ 
Say  then,  what  oyster  was  ever  a  termagant — a  virago — a  shrew  t  Did 
oysters  eat  the  forbidden  fruit?  Did  Ihey  fire  Troy  ?  The  thing  is  ob- 
vious. Let  woman  rejoice  in  the  prerogative  of  serving  the  friend  of 
man,  and  man  her  friend. 

"  But  have  they  souls  ?  " 

Reader,]   know  not;  neither  dost  thou ;  nevertheless   I  shall   hold 


212  COLLEGE   REMIMSCENCES. 

my  own  opinion  without  controversy.  If  they  have,  those  souls  either 
leave  them,  when  they  descend  into  the  dark  tomb  of  our  stomachs,  or 
else  they  are  absorbed  into  our  own  spirits.  Take  they  their  flight? — 
They  need  no  "  pax  vobiscum  "  from  such  as  me :  I  envy  their  apo- 
theosis. Do  they  lake  the  other  hoin  of  the  dilemma  ?  Happy  mortal 
that  f  am,  to  have  imbibed  so  many  myriads  of  such  sinless  souls ! 

I  have  sat  down  in  the  oysterless  regions  of  the  West,  and  remem- 
bered the  oyster-pots  of  my  home.  I  thought  of  the  sphenoidal  shell, 
ti^ie  Oyster's  Coat  of  Arms,  then  contemplated  the  King  of  Spain,  upon 
my  last  pillar  dollar  ;  and  O  !  how  gladly  would  I  have  exchanged  the 
silver  for  the  pearl — the  "  Carolus  Dei  gtatia  "  for  the  Auster  Dei  gra- 
tia !  And  when  I  dreamed,  I  was  ever  in  Baltimore;  the  streets  rang 
again  with  the  musical  cry  of  Old  Moses  ;  the  tureen  smoked . 

"  To  live  is  but  to  dream  " — with  a  diflerence. 

No  man  curseth  the  oyster ;  for  out  of  his  mouth  proceedeth  bles- 
sing only.  He  is  disallowed  of  no  man.  Grahame  courteth  his  smiles, 
I'homson  preferreth  him  even  to  Lobelia.  Priessuitz  owns  him  as  his 
a(iuatic  ally,  and  even  Hahnemann,  who  wageih  war  upon  the  coffee- 
bean — even  he  blesseth  the  innocent  oyster.  The  Catholic  knoweth 
well  on  fast-days  that  this  meat  is  not  flesh  ; — to  call  it  fish  were  an 
abomination.     The   Son  of  Temperance  himself  will  swallow   his  six 

dozen, — only  touch  not  a  thimble-full  of  aU  ! 

P.  G.  S. 


COLLEGE  REMINISCENCES.       NO.  II. 

BY  AN  OLD  STAGER. 

It  often  aflbrds  me  a  melancholy  pleasure  to  take  up  the  College  cat- 
aloi'uc  of  my  Sopliomorical  days  and  follow  my  fellow  students  through 
their  wanderings  and  diversified  destiny  of  life.  More  than  four  lus- 
tres have  been  written  in  the  register  of  eternity,  since  those  halcyon 
days,  and  every  one's  character  has  been  fully  developed,  and  every 
one's  fate,  for  this  world,  unalterably  fixed. 

]  will  confine  myself  now  to  the  retro-examination  of  my  own  class, 
and  as  1  glance  my  eye  down  the  long  list,  for  there  were  fifty  of  us,  I 
am  made  sad  and  glad  by  turns.  I  can  laugh  hilariously,  and,  if  1  were 
given  to  the  melting  mood,  I  ought  to  weep  dolorously.  Not  a  few 
have  graduated  for  life  and  have  stood  their  examination  before  a  higher 
tribunal  than  a  College  faculty.  Alas  !  that  vicious  practices  contracted 
at  College  should  have  shortened  the  days  of  not  a  few  !  There  was 
vouiio-  Mi>rton;  the  idol  of  hi^'  widowed  mother — tlic  dearly  cheiiohed 


COLLEGE   nKML\LSCE.\CL^.  213 

aiul  only  brother  of  his  beautiful  sisters, — the  modest,  unassuming  boy 
of  16, — religiously  trained  and  full  of  reverence  for  religion,  but  poor 
Morion;  ''he  fell  among  thieves" — they  templed  him  with  wine, — they 
sang  Bacchanalian  songs, — they  lured  him  to  their  midnight  festivals 
and  carousals  in  town, — they  initiated  him  into  the  mysteries  of  cards 
— they  incited  him  to  every  deed  of  mischief,  and  the  scoundrels  al- 
ways managed  to  escape  detection  themselves,  whilst  their  unsuspecting 
dupe  was  frequently  cited  before  that  dreaded  court,  the  Faculty.  Thus 
he  went  through  his  College  course  and  was  at  last  admitted  to  his  de- 
gree, as  it  now  stands  opposite  his  name  in  the  records,  "  admissus  spe- 
ciali  gratia.  "  In  a  few  years,  he  ran  his  career,  and  his  broken  heart- 
ed mother  and  distracted  sisters  followed  to  the  grave  a  corpse,  swol- 
len and  putrid  from  intemperance.  This  is  the  brief  history  of  many 
a  young  man  whom  I  have  known,  whose  habits  of  inebriety  were 
contracted  at  college. 

In  looking  down  the  list,  I  come  to  a  name,  which  always  excites  a 
smile.  He  is  still  living, — he  holds  a  high  office  under  government  and  is 
considered  not  an  ordinary  man.  R — ,  was  a  vain,  pedantic,  efTeminate 
coxcomb.  He  was  the  College  dandy,  who  bestowed  more  attention 
on  the  curls  of  his  hair  than  on  his  Euclid,  and  used  more  Macassar  oil 
in  anointing  it,  than  he  did  fish  oil  in  his  study  lamp.  He  was  stupid 
withal,  and  an  intolerable  bore.  Every  day  he  would  come  to  my  room 
and  there  I  would  read  over  to  him  the  various  lessons  and  demonstrate 
the  problems.  He  squeezed  through  after  a  fashion-,  and  yet  that  man 
has  been  elected  to  high  offices, — has  been  successful  in  his  profession, 
— at  present  draws  a  good  salary  from  government,  but  I  am  sure  his 
classics  and  mathematics  never  elevated  him  so  high.  He  was  mainly 
indebted  to  me  for  his  diploma,  and  whilst  he  has  been  thus  fortunate, 
I  have  never  been  elected  to  office  by  the  people,  nor  ever  received  an 
appointment  from  government,  and  have  had  but  a  moderate  share  of 
patronage  in  my  profession.  1  am  almost  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the 
proverb,  "a  fool  for  luck."  I  sometimes  meet  R — .  He  knows  me 
and  that  is  all,  and  I  do  not  remember  when  I  was  more  mortified,  than 
when  on  a  recent  occasion,  this  man's  influence  with  the  government 
was  absolutely  indispensable  to  me  to  secure  a  certain  design  I  had  in 
view.  I  was  almost  disgusted  at  the  idea  of  being  under  obligation  to 
such  a  man,  when  I  knew  his  want  of  capacity  and  talents,  but  he  had 
influence  in  a  certain  quarter,  and  I  had  none.  I  was  almost  tempted 
to  exclaim,  what  are  talents  and  education  worth  after  all  ? 

"  How  are  you,  Dick  ? — how  d 'ye  do  .- — why,  lime  has  made  chick- 
en feel  about  the  corners  of  your  inouUi, — a  little  frosly  about  the  up- 


ill  coLLEUL  ri:mim&ce>ces. 

per  slory,  I  see.  These  your  children,  Dick  ? — the  iiiosl  beautiful  clier- 
ubs  i  ever  saw — you  must  have  an  angelic  wife, — no  wonder,  such 
beautiful  children,  when  father  and  mother  are  so  handsome."  "Pshaw! 
— cease  your  gabble,  Tom,"  said  I,  "and  sit  down."  This  was  Tom 
W — ,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  some  years.  He  was  a  wild,  frolicking, 
extravagant  youngster,  whose  father  was  rich  and  liberal.  I  have  known 
Tom  to  treat  a  room  full  and  bleed  freely  to  the  amount  of  !^10  or  ^12 
before  the  parly  broke  up.  [There  were  intolerable  spojiges  at  our  col- 
lege in  those  days, — are  there  any  now  ? — they  would  stick  to  a  free 
young  man  like  leeches  and  suck  him  dry,  and  never  spend  a 
cent  themselves.]  Tom's  habits  of  extravagance  often  run  him  into 
debt,  and  it  was  said  he  left  College,  forgetting  to  settle  certain  claims 
which  the  steward,  tlie  wash-woman,  and  sundry  others  had 
a<<-ainst  him.  It  has  been  said,  perhaps  maliciously,  that  many  other 
students  are  particularly  forgetful  on  this  point.  W —  was  in  the  habit 
of  visiting  me  when  he  came  to  town,  and  I  was  somewhat  ofiended  at 
his  familiarity.  He  told  me  he  was  out  of  funds, — expected  a  remit- 
tance in  a  few  days  and  wished  to  borrow  twenty  dollars.  1  gave  it  to 
him.  He  forgot  his  promise,  and  lo  this  day,  he  stands  charged  with 
the  sum  aforesaid  in  my  books.  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  I  have 
heard  that  he  has  laid  several  others  of  his  old  fellow  students  under 
similar  obligations. 

"  You  are  in  the  wrong  room,  Sir."  "  I  piesume  not.  Sir,  the  servant 
directed  me  to  this  room  and  here  1  intend  to  sleep,  and  you'll  have  no 
objections  to  my  company  when  you  know  who  I  am. "  This  conver- 
sation took  place  between  me  and  a  student  of  medicine,  at  a  tavern  in 
W — .  I  knew  he  boarded  there  and  requested  the  servant  to  give  me  a 
bed  in  the  room  the  student  occupied.  He  did  not  know  me  when  I 
entered,  but  as  1  uttered  the  last  words,  I  took  the  candle  and  approach- 
ed the  bed  in  which  he  was  lying.  ^'  Why,  Dick,  is  this  you  }  1  did 
not  know  you,  or  I  would  not  have  thus  addressed  you.  "  We  had 
been  fellow  students  at  College,  but  he  had  been  expelled  for  destroying 
College  property,  firmg  the  temple  of  Cloacina  in  a  frolic.  We  spoke 
of  old  times,  and  brought  up  many  a  freak  of  by-gone  days,  but  1  ob- 
served that  his  laugh  was  subdued  and  he  easily  relapsed  into  melan- 
choly. "  Ah  !  Dick, "  said  he  at  last,  "  I  am  not  a  happy  man,  I  am  not 
the  gay  lad  I  was  when  at  College.  "  •'  Lost  your  father,  "  I  asked,  "  or 
low  in  funds  ,>"  '•  None  of  these,  but  worse  than  either."  "What 
can  be  worse.'"  '■'■  The  hitter  remcmhrance  of  heing  expelled  from 
college^''''  and  he  concealed  his  head  under  the  cover.  He  soon  recov- 
ered from   \m  i\ci:^  emotion  and  told  mc  all   his  feelings.     He  appeared 


rautF.  i.iTERATUP.i:. 


'Ji^ 


Jo  siifler  greatly,  lie  coulil  not  enter  any  other  institution,  for  lie  had  no 
Certificate  of  honorable  dismission,  of  course — his  education  was  incom- 
plete and  he  had  no  diploma.  His  father  and  friends  were  greatly  dis- 
pleased, his  rivals  took  advantage  of  his  error  to  injure  his  character, 
and  his  own  conscience  smote  him  painfully.  He  had  made  every  repara- 
tion for  the  mischief  he  could,  by  forwarding  «^150  to  the  treasurer  of 
the  college  (to  rebuild  the  temple,)  but  still  the  di-sgrace  of  his  expul- 
sion was  almost  insupportable.  He  fully  justified  the  Faculty,  and  did 
not,  like  many  a  youth  righteously  punished,  declare  himself  innocent 
and  try  to  injure  the  institution.  Guilty  young  men  may  sometimes 
succeed  in  persuading  their  over  indulgent  papas  and  mamas  to  believe 
them  innocent,  but  no  body  else  does  even  though  they  swear  to  it  ve- 
hemently. 1  know  a  few  such  now — every  body  knows  them  to  be  guil- 
ty, but  their  fond  parents  cannot  think  that  their  dear  boy  could  ever 
have  done  this  naugrhtv  deed. 


INFLUENCE  OF  POLITE  LITERATURE  ON  THE  HEART. 

It  is  universally  admitted  that  polite  literature  improves  the  under- 
standing, enlivens  the  imagination,  and  furnishes  the  memory  with  use- 
ful knowledge.  Its  beneficial  tendency  on  the  mind  is  denied  by  none, 
whilst  its  influence  on  the  heart  by  some  is  regarded  as  less  favorable, 
and  by  others,  as  altogether  injurious.  Theygrant  tliat  it  enables  men  to 
think  more  profoundly,  reason  correctly  and  express  themselves  beau- 
tifully, but  they  deny  that  it  is  calculated  to  contribute  to  moral  culture. 

There  may  have  been,  and  still  are  persons,  who,  through  an  ex- 
cessive fondness  for  the  liberal  arts,  and  especially  the  beautiful  imagery 
and  glowing  pictures  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors,  are  induced,  to 
neglect  devotional  reading,  and  thus  deprive  the  heart  of  its  necessary 
and  daily  food  ;  but  this  is  the  efiect  of  an  excessive  attachment  to  a 
good  thing,  and  not  the  proper  influence  of  its  lawful  use. 

We  might  permit  the  beauties  of  nature,  the  glowing  heavens,  the 
smiling  flowers,  the  magnificent  forest,  the  splendor  of  green  fields  and 
the  golden  harvest,  so  to  engross  our  attention,  as  absolutely  to  forget 
their  great  and  glorious  Author;  but  would  this  prove  that  an  intelligent 
view  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  as  they  are  spread  around  us  in  a  thous- 
and glowing  forms,  is  not  calculated  to  excite  religious  emotions  and  fo 
direct  our  hearts  in  gratitude  to  the  Deity  >  By  an  industrious  study  of 
polite  literature,  we  procure  among  other  advantages,  a  good  taste,  i.  e., 
a  tender,  quick,  and  true  perception  of  the  beautiful,  the  correct  and  the 
harmonious,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  defective,  the  weak,  and  incon- 


216  CREEK  AND  ROMAN  CLASSICS. 

o-ruous,  on  tlie  other.  The  uifltience  of  such  -i  taste  does  not  extend  to 
the  mind  only,  but  to  the  whole  character  of  man.  It  watches  over  him 
like  a  faithful  guardian,  and  silently  and  unobserved  whispers  to  him, 
''  This  is  the  path,  walk  thou  in  it.  "  The  influence  of  a  liberal  educa- 
tion accompanies  us  on  our  whole  journey  through  life,  and  never  cea- 
ses to  strew  and  ornament  our  path  with  the  choicest  flowers. 

When  we  read  the  glowing  examples  of  friendship,  patriotism  and 
philanthropy,  expressed  in  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  language 
by  the  ancient  classics,  our  hearts  become  soft  and  tender,  and  we  feel 
that  we  should  be  warmer  friends,  purer  patriots,  and  withal,  better 
men.  We  are  prepared  to  say  with  Cicero,  "  Haec  studia  adolcscen- 
liani  alunt,  scneclutem  oblecla/il,  secundas  res  ornant^  adversis  perfu^ 
gium  ac  solatium  prcchent^  delectant  domi^  non  impedlunt  foris,  2}crnoc- 
tanl  nolisciim^  vc.regrinantur^  rustic aiiLur.'''' 

J.  J.  R. 


GREEK  AND  ROMAN  CLASSICS. 

If  any  man  would  be  satisfied  that  an  extensive  use  may  be  made  of 
the  Greek  and  Roman  Classics  in  the  illustration  of  Biblical  the'mes,  he 
has  only  to  take  up  a  translation  of  any  of  the  best  writers.  We  say 
a  translation,  for  no  man,  who  knows  anything  of  the  originals,  needs 
any  argument  on  this  subject — and  by  the  exercise  of  a  very  moderate 
share  of  the  power  of  association,  he  will  find  his  conceptions  of 
the  Sacred  Scriptures  rendered  more  vivid,  his  imagination  excited,  and 
his  heart  kindled.  I  go  ta  my  Library — I  take  dou'n  at  random  a  vol- 
ume from  my  shelf  of  translations.  I  open  it,  and  find  it  to  be  M.s- 
chylus — and  the  tragedy,  The  Prometheus  Vinctits.  The  passage  in 
Genesis — '■^  Tubal- Cain,  an  instructor  of  every  artificer  in  brass  or  iron,'''' 
is  suggested  by  these  lines  in  regard  to  Prometheus, 

"The  radiant  pridp,  the  firing  flame,  that  lends 
Its  aid  to  every  art,  he  stole  and  bore 
The  gift  to  mortals.  " 

I  can  recall  the  greatly  more  splendid  description  of  .lob,  beginning 
"  There  is  a  path  2chich  no  foirl  knoiceth,  and  vjhich  the  vuUurcs  eye  hath 
not  seen,''''  when  1  read  in  the  Prometheas  of 

"  Those  pathless  wilds 
Where  human  footstep  never  marked  the  ground.  " 

When  David  calls  upon  every  object  in  earth  and  heaven,  "  Praise 
Hinij  ye  heavens  of  heavens — ye  dragons  and  all  deeps,  fire  and  hail., 
snoiD  and  vapor  :  stormy  wind  fulfilling  his  word,''''  he  exhibits  a  spe- 
cies of  sifljlimity  to  which  this  is  similar, 

"  Ethereal  air,  and  ye  swift-winged  winds. 
Ye  rivers  springing  from  fresh  founts,  ye  waves 
That  o'er  the  interminable  ocean  wreath 
•  Your  crisped  smiles,  thou  all-producing  earth 
And  thee  bright  sun,  I  call,  whose  flaming  orb 
Vinw  -•  \\\p:  wi'lo  world  beneath.  " 


Receipts  dunug  Jiiti". 

Rfv.  Prof.  H.  I.  Smith,  Hiirtwirk,  N.  Y. 

Kcv.  (ji.  Basslcr,  Zelieiieplc,  O. 

Dr.  D.  l.iilhcr,  Reading.  Pa. 

Kev.  P.  Ri/.er,  Ciuiiberlaiid  Mii. 

Rev.  J.  \.  Seiss. 

Jjimes  Kon.sluiw,  R^q.  Litllrstnwn,  Pa. 

Geo.  VV.  Fior.stii)c,  Fjaiicastcr,  Pa. 

.Mrs.  E.  Stiult/.,  (ielly.^l)urg.  Pa. 

.^I.  R.  Ziniin?nn;in,  Octlv.shuiij,  Pa. 

G.  \V.  Hoiisolioldrr. 

A.  W.  Lilly, 

Geo.  .1.  .Marlz, 

A.  O.  Scott 


Si  00  \ 

'ol, 

,  3 

1  00 

-. 

1  00 

- 

3 

•J  00 

_ 

2  &3 

3  00 

- 

1.2,3 

1  00 

- 

3 

J  00 

- 

.1 

•J  00 

- 

r»  c.  M 

J  00 

- 

•  •> 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  7;1 

- 

2  k  .1 

1  00 

- 

3 

1  00 

- 

3 

$^\Ve  would  rcmiiMl  Subscriber.'^,  who  are  indebted  to  the  Record 
and  Journal,  that  our  leruis  are  payment  in  advance.  We  would 
respectfclly  ask  all  who  are  in  arrears  to  forward  their  subscription 
money,  per  mail,  at  our  risk,  and  let  us  have  pleasure  of  crediting  them 
on  our  next  cover.  We  are  necessarily  compelled  to  make  this  request 
m  order  to  meet,  our  obligations  to  the  Printer.  Besides,  as  the  Third 
volume  of  the  Magazine  is  approaching  its  close,  we  are  desirous  of  as 
certaining  our  position.  The  continuance  of  the  Journal  for  another 
year,  will  of  course  depend  upon  its  publication  not  involving  any  pe- 
'"jniary  loss.  Onr  fneud?  will  thi-rrfore  confer  a  vrry  ^rrat  favor  by 
- -^rndinj  proinpilv  io  thr-  nofin:. 


Pcnusijluania  College,  ©cttn^burg,  |pa. 

'  FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 

;  C.  P.  Kr\utii,  D.  D.—  Prenident  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rel.,  Ethics,  ^-c. 

,  Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.M.— Prof,  of  Greek  Lan2;uage,  Rhetoric  and  Oraton/. 

Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. —  Prof,  of  Mathematics.  Cheinistri/  nnd  Mechanical  Philos. 

Rev.  W.  M.  Reyn-ot.ds,  A  M.—Prof.  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 

M.  L.  Stoevkr,  a.  M. — Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 

Rev.  C.  A.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Langiic/.s^-c  and  LJIeratvre. 

H.  Haupt,  a.  M.- — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  LJraivins;  and  French. 
.David  Gri.BERT,  M.  T>.— Lecturer  on  ,/Jnatoni/  and  Physiology. 
■  .ToHN-  G.  Morris,  D.  D  — Lecturer  on  7.oolo^y. 
'  A.  EssicK. —  Tutor. 

J.  K.  Pi.iTT. —  Tuior. 


;        Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  chartered  about  sixteen  years.    Dnrincjfhis 
time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  oTatify  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  its 

'  friends.     The   Trustees  have  much  encouraq:ement  to  hope  lor  its  continued  pros-  ^ 
perity  and  to  expect  fiitnie  favor.    The  proximity  of  frettysbDro-  to  Baltimore  and 

■  Philadelphia,  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  the  morality  of  its  inhabilants.  the  cheap- 
ness of  livinnj  recommend   ttie   College  to  the  patronage  of  parents.     The  course 

,  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  of  anv  institution  in  the  country. 
The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thor- 

;  ough  Ensrlish.  business  education,  in  addition  to  tiie  elements  of  the   Mathematics 

:  and   Classical  T/iterature. 

The  Colle'^e  Course'\<!,  arranged  in  the  four  classes  Usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this 
country. 

The  governtTir'nt  of  the  students  is  parental,  mild  .ind  affectionate,  but  firm 
and  enprgftic.  Thev  attend  thr^e  recitations  a  day.  Church  and  Bible  Class  on 
the  Sabbatii,  and  are  visited  in  tiieir  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  flan- 
ker of  any  jreat  irregularities.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College 
Rdifice,  special  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 

:  sf>ssion,  S'fifi  <»'2! :  for  the  siimuipr  session,  ."ft'-l.")  12':.  Washins:.  ir^lO  00  :  and  Wood, 
^?,  00.  Total  expense,  $124  75.  Boarding  can  he  obtained  in  clubs  at  .'Jfil  00  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  coinniencing  on  the  third  Tiiursdays  of 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weelfs  continuance. 

The  .\nnual  Commencement  occurs  at  the  close  of  the  Summer  Session,  the 
third  Thursday  of  September. 

tUonatious  to  (ffabinct. 

1  From  Mrs.  Dr.  Schmiicker.  A  Snalce  in  spirits. 

2  "       Miss  S.  Carlisle.  .\  snecim^n  of  Bell  Metal. 

3  '•■  Dr.  D.  Luther,  per  Prof.  Retpiohh,  .\  handsome  specimen  of  Cold 
Ore. 

4  "        f^.  Kiilit.  A  box  of  Minerals. 

5  "  Mi'ises  Mitni  and  Ellen  Hartley,  Winchester,  Va.,  Specimens  from  a 
Cave  near  Middletown.  Va. 

fi       "        7'.  Jl.  Sl.ec.her.  Magnetic  Telegraph  Alphabet  an<l   writing 
7       "       Hanson    T.  Wris^ht.  Fx'/.  Pittsburg,  per  C.J.  Brougher,   one  Tigo- 
rian  coin. 


Tf.rms  of  Titic  Rr.conn  and  .Totjrnai,.     One  Dollar  per  annum 
in  advance. 
.Address — '•'■Kditnr^  of  the  Record  and.  Journal,  Gclh/shurg.  Pa.-'' 


^^■S,''^^ 


1 

1   VOLUME  III.] 

triK 

r.\UMEF,R  10. 

LITEBARV 

RECORD 

AND 

JOURNAL 

1 

«?f  (l)c  XiniiacaiT  SlasoclaJiiin  fif  pcnnsp-lp 

mill  CotUgt.                  { 

AWillST, 

1847. 

i 

ea.NDrcTET) 

Bt?  u  (tommitut  of  the  ^sBoclnxtovi. 


COXTF.NTS. 

TITE   WORLD  AT  TlfF.   ADVF.NT, 

ON"   THF.   DOTrcr.lVO  OF  CONSOXANTSv 

THE    GARDEN  Of   PLANTS    AT    PARIS,       -  -  - 

PinrosoKPY  OT  storms,         .         -         -         . 

EPISTLES   TO   STUDENTS,     --'---' 
PLAGUES,        ------- 

riTF.   DOH'.WVARD   tendency  of   HU.ATAX   STATrRE, 


217 
22o 
226 
229 
232 
235 
237 


T,    sheet,  periodical — Postage,  21  cents,  toany  distance  within  fhe  Union. 

NEINSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBl'RG. 

H-jiiLiiiijj"iiL>U.iiwii  I  11 1  ■mill  ^1  M  nil  nwtrtniflu^ 


FUBLIC  EXAMINATION. 

The  examiiialion  of  the  Classes  in  Pennsvlvanici  College  will  com- 
imcnce  on  tiie  2(1  it)st.,  and  continue  during  the  whole  week.  The  fol- 
lowing is  the  programme  of  the  exercises  : 

Monday.  The  Preparatory  Deparuncnt  will  he  examined  from 

9  A.  M.  until  ]2  >r.,  and  from  2  r.  m.  to  o  r.  m. 
Tuesday       9.     .Tunior  Class — Greek. 

10.     Sophomore — Mathematics. 
31.     Fresliman — Latin. 

3.  Sophomore — Greek  Testament. 

4.  Freshman — Algebra. 
Wednesday '9.     .Junior — Evidences  of  Chrislianil}  . 

10.  Sophomore — Rhetoric. 

11.  .iunioi — Logic. 

3.  Fresliman — ^Greek. 

4.  Sophomore — Mathematics. 
Thursday     9.     Junior — Optics. 

10.  Freshman — .VIodern  History. 

IL  Sophomore — Archaeology. 

3.  Freshman — Geometry. 

4.  Senior  German  Class. 
Friday           9.  Sophomore — Latin. 

10.  .Tunior — Chemistry  and  Meteoxology, 

11.  .Junior  German  Class. 
.3.     .Junior — Rhetoric. 

1.     Freshman — Classical  Literature 
Saturday       9.     Sophomore — Greek. 
10.     Junior — Latin. 


The  final  examination  oi  the  Senior  Class  will  take  place  on  Wedne.s- 
day,  August  lllh.  The  class  consists  o(  seventeen,  and  is  the  largest 
the  College  has  yet  graduated.  The  Commencement  will  occur  five  weeks 
succeeding  the  examination,  Thursday,  Sept.  i6lh.  Onthe  Sabbath  pre- 
ceding, the  jBacca/a«rea/c  di.scourse  will  be  delivered  by  President  Krauth. 
On  Tuesday  afternoon  the  Linnajan  Hall  will  be  dedicated  and  an  address, 
appropriate  to  the  occasion,  delivered -by  the  President  of  the  Association, 
J.  G.  Morris^  D.D.  On  Tuesday  evening  the  valedictory  exercises  of 
the  Senior  Class  in  the  Theological  Seminary  will  lake  place,  and  a 
discourse  before  thB  Alumni  of  the  Institution  will  be  delivered  by  Rev. 
F.  W.  Conrad^  of  Hagerstown,  Md.  On  Wednesday  afternoon  the 
.annual  oration  before  the  Literary  Societies  will  be  pronounced  by 
Robert  Tyler,,  Esq.^  of  Philadelphia;  and  on  Wednesday  the  address  to 
the  Alumni  of  the  College  will  be  delivered  by  A.  R.  Stevenson,  Esq., 
of  Gettysbuig.  As  the  exercises  of  Commencement  week  are  likely 
to  prove  of  a  very  interesting  character,  ue  .shall  be  glad  to  have  all 
our  friends,  who  can  make  it  '.onvenient,  to  fa-v  oi  ur  with  iheir  presence 
'9n  the  otca5ion. 


THE  LITERARY 

®lt®m®  air®  t#iaf r^a 

OF  THE  LINNi'EAN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  in.  AUGUST,  1847.  No.  10. 

THE  "WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

(  Concluded  from  page  202.^ 
Whatever  difference  there  might  be  between  the  religions  of  these  va- 
rious lands,  it  was  certainly  not  a  variation  from  good  to  better  or  from 
evil  to  good,  but  from  bad  to  worse.  To  pass  from  one  to  another  was 
but  to  witness  successive  enormities.  The  idea  of  the  existence  of 
some  Supreme  Creator  and  Governor,  which  doubtless  had  been  origi- 
nally carried  with  them  by  the  sons  of  Noah,  was  lost,  as  far  as  any 
approach  to  correctness  is  concerned,  until  about  four  centuries  and 
a  lialf  before  the  Redeemer's  birth,  when  Anaxagoras  revived  the  idea 
which  after  him  was  perpetuated  by  many  of  the  philosophers.  But  not 
only  did  they  not  give  it  a  wide  diffusion,  but  regarded  it  as  its  greatest 
value  that  it  was  unknown  to  the  people.  The  dog  may  breathe  the 
air  that  Caesar  breathes,  but  the  vulgar  herd,  as  they  contemptuously 
called  them,  must  not  share  the  thoughts  of  the  philosophers.  They 
kept  up  the  aristocracy  of  brain,  and  so  anxious  were  they  to  separate  phil- 
osophy from  the  mass,  that  they  cultivated  obscurity  as  an  excellence. 
By  the  abstruse  and  technical  terms  which  they  copiously  employed, 
they  succeeded  not  only  in  keeping  the  people  in  the  dark,  but  in  bewil- 
dering each  other  and  puzzling  themselves.  Of  Aristotle,  by  many  con- 
sidered the  greatest  and  by  all  one  of  the  greatest,  it  is  said,  that  an  ad- 
mirer of  his  confessed  that  he  read  him  forty  times  before  he  began  to 
understand  him,  and  so  strongly  did  he  become  tinged  with  the  character 
of  his  favorite,  that  it  is  thought,  the  volumes  in  which  he  communi- 
cates his  discoveries  would  require  as  many  readings  as  the  Stagyrite 
himself,  (though  without  any  likelihood  of  receiving  them.)  'i'he 
people  therefore  were  not  likely  to  get  much  benefit  from  the  superior 
light  of  the  Philosophers. 

Yet  the  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  the  God-head  remained  glimmer- 
ing.    A  ray  of  the  truth  was  seen  here  and  there.    It  was  indeed  a  lamp 
shining  in  a  dark  place,  yet  it  was  not  entirely  without  use  in  preparing 
2S 


218  THE  ^VORLD  AT  THF.  ADVENT. 

the  eyes  of  the  nations  for  the  light  that  was  about  to  burst  on  them. — 
The  transition  from  lamp-light  to  the  sun,  is  not  quite  so  painful  or 
blinding,  as  from  entire  darkness  to  noon-day.  But  the  truth,  when  ad- 
mitted, was  robbed  of  much  of  its  efficacy,  by  a  falsehood  grafted  upon 
it.  This  was  that,  with  the  Supreme  God,  there  were  deities,  inferior 
indeed,  but  still  of  great  power,  each  of  whom  had  some  special  object 
of  care.  Their  favor  must  be  secured  by  the  riles,  the  ceremonies  and 
the  offerings  prescribed  by  their  priests.  The  character  of  the  gods 
was  at  once  odious  and  ridiculous.  This  led,  on  the  part  of  some,  to  a 
hatred  of  the  whole  popular  system,  and  a  thinly  veiled  contempt  for  all 
its  advocates.  On  the  part  of  the  poets,  the  same  feelings  were  shown 
in  representations  so  ludicrous,  as  to  prove  that  if  they  were  not  down- 
right sceptics,  they  had  less  faith  than  fun. 

Every  nation  'had  deities  peculiarly  its  own,  and  unshared  by  oth- 
ers. Indeed  the  lords  many  and  gods  many  so  abounded,  that  any  man 
could  have  as  many  as  he  wanted.  A  man  without  a  blanket  could 
have  a  dozen  of  deities — and  without  an  obblus  to  buy  thread  to  patch 
the  holes  in  his  pallium,  could  invoke  fifty  gods  to  temper  the  winds 
that  crept  through  them.  The  monarch  of  the  gods  was  a  slave  bound 
by  the  fixed  laws  of  destiny  or  fate.  The  power  of  Jupitex  is  illustra- 
ted in  the  comparatively  refined  scheme  of  Homer,  by  the  figure  of  a 
chain  fastened  to  his  throne,  with  link  fixed  in  link,  of  which  he  can 
move  the  first  as  he  pleases,  but  that  done,  his  power  ceases.  Link 
\vorks  in  link,  and  event  produces  event,  far  beyond  his  control.  The 
gods  of  the  East  difl"ered  from  those  of  the  North.  Though  the  legends 
are  so  mingled  as  to  give  some  general  resemblance  between  the  vari- 
ous national  idols,  it  is  yet  a  delusive  idea  that  they  are  identical. 

The  popular  idolatry  of  the  Grecians  was  far  more  refined  than  that 
of  the  Egyptians.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  national  vanity  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  that  they  persisted  in  the  assertion  that  their  gods, 
under  some  form,  were  worshipped  by  all  nations.  They  have  however 
asserted  it  so  stoutly  and  defended  it  so  ingeniously,  that  the  idea  is 
not  yet  dispelled. 

The  Egyptians  indeed  waged  wars  for  their  gods,  but  not  to  extend 
their  power  or  to  make  subjects  of  other  nations  and  compel  their  wor- 
ship, but  to  defend  them  from  aggression.  The  objects  of  their  wor- 
ship were  haled  or  eaten  by  other  nations.  The  sacred  ibis  was  treated 
like  a  goose.  Apis  was  made  beef  of,  and  the  holy  crocodile,  the  levi- 
athan, was  drawn  out  with  a  hook  and  reached  through  his  scales. — 
Their  religious  wars  then  were  designed  for  the  defence  of  their  deities. 
They   did  not  purpose   so  much   to    secure  their  worship  as    to  save 


THE   WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT.  219 

them  from  the  weapons  and   teeth  of  their  infidel  neighbors.    These 
were  the  crusades  of  the  cat  and  monkey- 

The  Romans  indeed  had  a  public  religion  which  allowed  no  inno- 
vation. All  the  citizens,  however,  vvere  allowed  to  have  what  private  re- 
ligion they  pleased.  So  long  as  public  security  and  existing  laws  were 
not  endangered,  they  could  hold  what  meetings,  erect  what  temples, 
and  adore  what  deities  they  pleased.  They  had  an  established  church 
for  whose  support  all  were  taxed,  but  dissent  was  attended  with  neither 
punishment,  odium  or  political  disability.  From  this  policy,  so  just 
and  liberal,  there  was  no  departure,  even  in  cases  where  apparent  and 
recent  danger  had  resulted  from  some  abuse  of  this  freedom.  During 
the  protracted  wars  with  Hannibal,  a  religious  movement  of  a  singular 
character  was  exhibited  by  the  people  of  Rome.  The  public  religion 
was  deserted  and  strange  modes  of  worship  became  prevalent. 
The  foreign  superstitions,  hitherto  cherished  only  in  private,  now 
obtruded  themselves  into  public  places,  until  the  Capitolian  forum  itself 
ceased  to  be  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  gods  of  the  State.  It  seem- 
ed as  though  there  had  been  some  sudden  change  either  on  the  part  of 
the  deities  or  of  men.  Great  crowds  of  women,  so  devoted  in  every 
age,  even  to  the  shadow  of  religion,  thronged  to  the  new  worship  and 
sacrifices.  A  set  of  poor  meat-burners  and  fortune-tellers  were  the 
priests  and  seers,  the  sacrificers  and  prophets  of  the  new  superstition. 
Thousands  of  peasants,  who  came  for  refuge  to  the  city  from  the 
desolated  districts,  found  it  to  their  interest  to  play  upon  tlie  public 
mind  in  this  state.  They  gained  a  living  by  presenting  the  claims  of  their 
gods,  and  if  they  came  without  any,  it  was  easy  to  invent  them.  Such 
at  last  was  the  state  of  things  that  all  good  citizens  became  alarmed. 
The  sheriff  and  constables  of  the  city,  in  attempting  to  take  from  the  mob 
the  implements  of  their  rites  and  to  drive  them  from  the  forum,  were  on 
the  point  of  being  massacred.  The  Senate  finally  interposed  and  de- 
creed that  the  MS.  records  of  all  religions  should  be  brought  to  the 
prajtor,  and  that  henceforth  no  one  should  employ  a  new  or  foreign  rite 
in  any  public  or  consecrated  place.  Here  in  the  very  face  of  a  flagrant 
abuse  the  rights  of  conscience  were  maintained.  The  law  merely  re- 
served for  the  state  religion  the  places  prepared  at  its  own  expense.  Jt 
is  essentially  the  law  of  our  own  land,  which  would  not  permit  one 
denomination  to  seize  upon  the  house  erected  at  the  expense,  and  for 
the  purposes  of  another. 

This  liberty  of  worship  was  not  invaded  in  the  still  more  flagrant 
case  of  the  Bacchanalian  orgies.  These  horrid  riles  had  been  secretly 
introduced  into  Rome,  nnder  the  cover  of  a  mystery  guarded  by  the 


220  THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

most  awful  oaths.  Deeds  were  nightly  performed,  whose  chastest  rela- 
tion is  impure.  The  grossest  filthiness  was  connected  with  murder, 
where  the  shrieks  of  the  slain  were  drowned  by  coarse  instruments 
of  music  and  the  shouts  of  the  Bacchanals.  Thousands  of  men  and 
women  weie  drawn  into  these  accursed  assemblies,  where  every  shame- 
less and  nameless  crime  was  committed.  The  guardian  and  father- 
in-law  of  jEbutius  had  fraudulently  used  the  estate  left  his  race  by 
his  father.  To  conceal  his  crime  he  wished  to  get  him  initiated,  know- 
ing that  his  complete  ruin  or  murder  would  soon  ensue.  iEbutius  was 
warned,  by  a  lewd  yet  faithful  woman,  with  whom  he  was  connected, 
of  the  nature  of  these  secrets  with  which  she  had  become  acquainted. 
Through  him  they  reached  the  ears  of  the  officers  of  the  city.  The 
strong  arm  of  the  civil  power  at  once  came  down  upon  these  filthy  and 
bloody  wretches.  Many  were  executed — many  more  w^ere  imprisoned. — 
Every  place,  used  for  their  purposes,  was  destroyed,  unless  some 
ancient  altar  or  statue  stood  there.  Yet  the  very  law  which  pronoun- 
ced so  just  a  sentence,  made  this  provision,  "that  if  any  one  felt  him- 
self bound  in  conscience  and  by  religious  conviction  to  worship  with 
these  rites  (of  course  without  the  impurity  and  murder  which  had  been 
added  to  them,)  on  making  application  through  the  praetor  to  a  quorum 
of  the  Senate,  the  privilege  might  be  obtained — though  not  more  than 
five  could  be  allowed  to  be  present,  nor  could  there  be  funds  or  priests 
set  apart. "  This  was  a  great  and  wise  policy — and  so  fixed  was  the 
defence  of  the  rights  of  conscience  as  a  principle,  that  these  flagrant 
abuses  of  it  did  not  lead  to  an  invasion  of  their  true  prerogatives. — 
[Liv.  XXXIX :  18.] 

This  liberality  was  doubtless  cherished  and  heightened  by  the  liter- 
ary character  of  the  age.  As  diversity  of  views  is  proportioned  to  the 
number  of  thinkers,  the  most  intellectual  nations  are  ever  the  most  tol- 
erant, for  the  men  who  design  to  secure  it  for  themselves  are  most  ready 
to  grant  to  others  freedom  of  thought  and  speech.  In  this  intellectual 
advancement,  were  advantages  to  the  Christian  religion,  so  decided  that 
it  has  been  universally  acknowledged.  Origen,  so  original  as  sometimes 
to  be  almost  fantastic,  remarks  it.  Nor  need  we  argue  that  Christianity 
demanded  an  age  advanced  far  beyond  the  elements  of  religious  truth. 
Had  twelve  artisans  propagated  it  one  hundred  years  earlier — we  speak 
of  it  now  considered  simply  as  a  religion  promoted  by  the  oidinary  ap- 
pliances of  truth — it  would  have  died  with  them.  The  world  was  not 
ripe  enough.  Had  twelve  artisans  proclaimed  it  a  century  later  it 
would  have  died  with  them.  The  world  was  too  ripe.  This  period 
alune  was  the  (uUness    of  the    times. 


THE  WORr.n   AT  THE  ADVENT.  221 

Combined  with  this  intellectual  character  of  the  age,  its  tolerant 
spirit  was  of  high  importance.  Liberty  within  certain  limits  was  un- 
bridled. Bigotry  had  ceased  to  be  a  legalized  thing.  Rome  forbade  no 
gods,  that  did  not  interfere  with  their  political  policy,  or  the  quiet  of  the 
State.  They  cared  not  whether  a  man  believed  in  one  god  or  in  twenty 
gods,  so  that  he  broke  nobody's  leg,  and  picked  nobody's  pocket. — 
Her  liberality,  it  is  true,  was  like  that  of  the  sceptic  statesman  in  whose 
'language  we  have  couched  her  principles,  and  perhaps  like  that  of 
a  majority,  both  of  liberal  christians  and  liberal  infidels.  She  was 
liberal  because  she  was  indifferent.  She  tolerated  all  religions  because 
she  believed  heartily  in  none.  The  same  word  expresses  religion  and 
superstition.  The  gods  had  begun  to  be  out  of  date.  Jupiter's  thun- 
derbolts ceased  to  dart  through  any  other  heaven  than  that  of  the  poet's 
fancy.  Olympus  had  become  a  sad  collection  of  deformed  deities,  com- 
pletely without  character  or  clothing ;  the  wits  had  stripped  them  of 
both,  without  however  always    securing   either  for  themselves. 

This  state  of  things  was  not,  it  is  true,  the  best  conceivable  for  the 
reception  of  Christianity — but  it  is  the  best  which  we  could  rationally 
expect  under  the  circumstances.  It  is  bad  enough,  it  is  true,  to  have 
men  listen  to  you,  with  the  purpose  of  laughing  at  you,  but  it  is  far 
worse,  if  they  listen,  with  the  design  of  cutting  your  throat  or  roasting 
you  when  you  are  done.  The  persecutions  which  the  Christians  en- 
dured, were  not  because  they  presented  a  new  religion,  but  because 
they  desired  to  subvert  that  which  existed.  This  was  resisted  as  a  part 
of  state  policy,  and  some,  though  far  fewer  than  is  popularly  supposed, 
suffered  martyrdom.  The  truth  is,  Christianity  had  more  to  dread 
from  the  incredulity,  than  the  persecution  of  the  age — and  it  is  no  trifling 
argument  of  her  divine  origin  that  she  advanced  in  an  age  so  infidel  in 
its  tendencies. 

Even  the  people  were  catching  the  looseness, — for  the  fittest  way  to 
make  men  cease  to  believe,  is  to  give  them  too  much  to  believe.  Not 
a  child,  says  Juvenal,  old  enough  to  wash  itself  believes  that  there  are 
ghosts  and  the  realms  beneath  the  ground,  the  boat-pole  of  Charon,  and 
the  black  frogs  in  the  river  Styx,  or  that  so  many  thousands  pass  over 
in  one  boat.  And  to  this  heathen  universal  ism  he  ascribes  that  terri- 
fic corruption  of  morals  which  prevailed  at  Rome.  Heathenism  itself 
had  a  deeper  depth,  and  into  that  depth,  modern  infidelity,  in  the  name 
of  Christ  and  of  the  Father  of  mercies,  would  plunge  us. 

But  did  not  the  higher  conceptions  of  philosophers,  and  the  purer 
strains  of  poets  take  from  the  doctrine  of  the  gods  much  of  its  absur- 
dity, and  throw  a  classic  beauty  around   what  they  could  not  destroy  .•' 


222  THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT. 

We  reply  that  in  some  sense  they  could  and  did.  They  could  inter- 
weave their  own  better  thoughts,  and  take  in  a  more  refined  sense  what 
in  the  popular  mind  was  surpassingly  gross.  The  gods  might 
become  embodiments  of  virtues  or  personifications  of  nature  and 
truth.  But  the  fact  cannot  be  suppressed,  that  this  sublime  idealism  nev- 
er would  reach  the  crowd.  When  the  priests  brought  oxen  and  gar- 
lands to  sacrifice  to  Paul  and  Barnabas,  it  might  be  to  them  conclusive 
against  their  divinity,  that  these  Christian  teachers  were  of  like  passions 
with  themselves  ;  but  it  was  not  so  with  the  crowd.  They  had  never 
worshipped  beings  other  than  of  like  passions  with  themselves  ;  the 
king  of  their  deities  was  an  adulterer  and  murderer,  his  court  was 
composed  of  debauched  and  worthless  gods,  and  goddesses  of  impure 
passions, — he  had  a  thief  for  a  prime  minister,  and  had  barely  escaped 
being  eaten  by  his  cannibal  father. 

In  all  the  intricacy  of  the  Mythology,  the  philosophers  saw  or  pre- 
tended to  see,  mythical  and  fanciful  embodiments  of  the  truths  of  the 
created  and  the  divine  nature,  but  their  scheme  was  too  subtle  to  produce 
comfort  in  themselves  or  conviction  in  the  people.  The  system  to 
which  they  were  attached  might  not  expire  at  once,  or  grow  putrid  so 
soon  as  it  became  extinct.  But  to  embroider  its  shroud  after  death  or 
to  galvanize  it  into  some  spasmodic  s/tow  of  life — was  not  the  power  re- 
quired to  bring  back  the  breath  or  keep  it  from  corruption. 

Yet  there  is  in  the  language  of  the  best  thinkers  on  the  nature  of 
the  gods,  an  occasional  thought  which  is  almost  startling.  So  near  the 
truth  and  yet  to  have  missed  it :  like  the  comet,  which  in  its  swift  track 
nears  the  sun  and  seems  ready  to  rush  into  its  bosom,  but  wheels  in  its 
wild  orb,  and  is  again  lost  in  the  trackless  realms  of  darkness.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  that  they  are  ofttimes  too  near  the  truth  to  suffer  us  to  re- 
ceive the  representations  of  those  who  are  fond  of  degrading  to  the 
lowest  depths  all  heathen  religions  without  distinction.  It  may  be  that 
such  writers  think  they  give  us  higher  ideas  of  the  divine  grace  to  our- 
selves if  they  can  show  that  it  has  been  denied  to  all  others.  But  it  is 
not  God's  glory  to  distinguish  the  Greek  from  the  .Jevv,  except  for  the 
Greek's  good  as  well  as  the  Jew's,  and  to  assert  it,  is  not  to  honor 
but  to  reproach  him.  To  think  the  robe  we  wear  increases  in  value, 
because  we  secured  the  piece  and  no  one  else  can  have  a  dress  of  the 
same  kind,  is  the  appropriate  feeling  of  a  silly  girl,  but  we  need  some 
higher  basis  than  a  thought  of  this  kind  for  our  reverence  and  love  of 
God. 

There  is  a  melanclioly  beauty  about  many  of  these  fragments  of  an- 
cient God-makini[.     Thcv  arc  as  beautiful  as  the   marbles  of  the  olden 


THE  WORLD  AT  THE  ADVENT.  223 

times  and  as  imperishable.  God-making  was  essentially  one  of  the  fine 
arts  of  antiquity.  The  dreamers  in  Theogony  no  more  expected  to  pro- 
duce real  gods  than  the  sculptors  expected  to  produce  real  men  and  wo- 
men. It  was  the  triumph  of  the  art  in  both  cases,  if  they  got  a  person 
to  think  for  a  time  that  they  were.  It  was  the  glory  of  intellectual 
power,  not  of  theology,  that  they  sought.  They  appealed  to  men  not 
for  their  belief,  but  their  admiration.  Anaxagoras  conceives  Jupiter,  as 
Apelles  paints  Alexander.  If  the  former  is  thought  to  have  a  fine  con- 
ception he  is  as  fully  satisfied  as  the  latter,  if  it  be  pronounced  that  he 
has  made  a  good  likeness.  The  philosopher's  Jupiter,  no  more  expects 
to  get  into  any  body's  creed  than  the  painter's  picture.  The  leader  of 
each  system  endeavored,  in  the  god  he  framed,  to  shadow  out  his  own 
character.  His  representations  of  God  were  representations  of  what  he 
imagined  he  would  be,  if  elevated  far  above  all  the  ills  of  humanity,  made 
deathless,  endowed  with  the  perpetual  youth  of  Endymion  without  his 
perpetual  sleep,  acting  in  the  loftiest  sphere  in  the  raidstof  the  grand  scenes 
of  heaven — with  the  almighty  power,  the  resistless  will,  the  real  joys  of 
divine  being.  No  wonder  that  as  man  ever  confounds  his  accidents  with 
the  intrinsic  portions  of  his  being  and  his  evil  with  his  good,  heaven 
"was  peopled  with  gods  and  demi-gods,  worthy  to  be  compeers  of  the 
man-embodying  Supreme.  No  wonder  that  the  Supreme  Deity,  Hu- 
manity deified,  sometimes  showed  the  lust,  the  arrogance,  or  the  vio- 
lence of  his  archetype.  It  is  Bible  language  to  say,  God  made  Man, — ^ 
but  in  paganism,  Man  made  God.  They  gave  their  God  company  be- 
cause they  could  not  f\o  without  it  themselves,  and  unconsciously  made 
him  vile  or  feeble,  because  they  knew  not  their  own  hearts  or  their  own 
weakness. 

In  this  way  it  happened  that  the  best  men  devised  the  best  God — 
the  God  of  Socrates,  would  be  infinite,  omniscient,  omnipresent,  Socrates 
himself  with  something  of  weakness  and  something  of  wrong.  For  in 
all  these  cases  we  are  not  so  much  to  regard  the  description  given  by 
the  philosophers,  as  what  we  know  must  have  been  their  conceptions. 
There  are  a  thousand  sources  whence  we  may  draw  our  expres- 
sions apart  from  full  conception  of  the  ideas  of  which  they  are  the  expres- 
sion. 

But  though  the  Gods  of  the  various  nations  were  men  and  women 
of  superhuman  powers,  they  had  entirely  human  appetites.  Their  con- 
ceptions, to  be  popular,  were  obliged  to  conciliate  the  national  vanity. — 
They  made  Gods  like  themselves,  that  they  might  boast  they  were 
like  Gods.  The  sublime  conception  of  God  as  the  Father,  in  a  sense 
higher  than  the  political   one  of  the  Jews,  and  the   physical  one  of  the 


224  THE  WORLD   AT  THE  ADVENT. 

heathen  was  reserved  for  that  religion  which  alone  is  both  perfect  and 
pure.  Judaism  was  pure  but  not  peifect,  IJeatheni:?ni  is  neither  perfect 
nor  pure. 

There  is  nothing  winning,  therefore,  or  touching  to  man's  better 
nature  in  these  heathen  gods,  with  all  the  beauty  which  art  and  literature 
have  thrown  around  them.  Tlie  system  prevailed  widely  and  was  uni- 
versally diffused,  because  man's  "nature  abhors  a  vacuum."  Mankind 
will  never  be  satisfied  with  negatives.  It  was  found  therefore  with  its 
many  modifications  everywhere.  It  was  cold  enough  for  the  bleakest 
mountain  top.  It  was  dark  enough  for  the  deepest  shades  of  the  pit. 
It  was  vague  enough  for  the  indifference,  and  imaginative  enough  for  the 
fancy,  and  easy  enough  fou-  the  restiveness  of  a  fallen  world.  In  shor\ 
like  some  forms  of  Pseudo-Ciiristianity — it  was  a  liopeless  thing  to  be 
saved  by,  but  a  delicious  thing  to  be  lost  by. 

It  was  indeed  an  advance  from  the  ruder  Paganism,  when  philoso- 
phers inspired  their  gods  by  the  in-breathings  of  their  own  souls.  But 
the  loftiest  of  heathen  men  was  one,  over  whose  aspect  was  thrown  the 
shade,  which  falls  on  him  who  nurses  the  thought,  or  dreads  that  death 
may  be  perpetual  sleep.  This  painful  impress,  which  the  better  spirit  of 
antiquity  could  not  escape,  is  everywhere  seen.  The  noblest  statues  of 
the  gods  never  did  and  never  can  attract.  Lofty  they  may  be,  and  a 
grand  beauty  mingled  with  terror  may  show  the  power  of  the  intellect 
by  which  they  were  designed.  But  the  divinities  of  ancient  art,  when 
they  pass  the  merely  animal  and  sensuous,  terrify,  whilst  they  inspire. — 
The  super-human  in  ancient  art  carries  with  it  something  so  cold,  so 
spectral,  that  no  fire  of  Genius  can  prevent  it  from  chilling.  It  is  the 
beauty  of  the  dead,  it  is  the  impiessiveness  which  repulses.  The  stu- 
pendous being,  the  greatest  of  its  aims  is  one  who  often  frowns,  but 
rarely  smiles — who  casts  with  his  own  hand  the  thunder-bolt,  but  makes 
it  the  part  of  an  inferior  to  spring  the  light  arch  of  the  rain-bow. 

It  is  of  one  who  revealed  himself  but  once — and  left  but  a  heap  of 
human  ashes  to  attest  the  terror  of  the  god  and  the  presumption  of  the 
mortal.  There  was  no  choice.  Such  gods  could  only  be  preserved 
from»becoming  contemptible  by  being  made  terrible.  It  was  a  degradation 
to  suppose  that  God  could  be  represented  in  marble.  It  was  no  less  good 
taste  than  sound  religion  to  forbid  it  at  Sinai.  In  the  attempts  of  heathen 
sculptors  to  do  it,  the  highest  efforts  reached  but  the  production  of  a 
sublime  repulsiveness.  The  gods  were  fearful  men  on  stone.  The  ter- 
ror of  the  eye,  the  awe  of  the  arm,  the  compacted  omnipotence,  the 
high  humanity  of  these  marble  divinities,  may  as  mere  trophies  of  arts 
hold  us  breathless,  but  never  would  they  lead  us  with  recovered  breath, 


DOUBLING  OF   CONSONANTS.  22li 

to  burst  into  the  sublimest  of  all  adorations  "Our  Father  who  art  iu 
heaven  ! "  As  lovers  of  the  arts,  we  may  feel  in  the  passing  away  of  a 
system  with  which  sculpture,  the  purest  of  them  all,  was  associated,  a 
more  than  momentary  regret.  Tliat  consummation  is  not  without  its 
pain,  which  a  poet  of  our  day  has  touched  with  the  finest   lines  of  his 

art. 

"The  altar  flames  with  flowers  no  more  ; 

But  on  the  fallen  and  crumbled  shrines 

The  mournful  moon-beam  palely  shines." — Brook's  Sclp.  Anth.,  p.  41. 

Yet  our  pain  must  ever,  with  the  glories  of  the  Messiah's  reign,  by 
which  heathen  arts  and  gods  were  superseded,  mingle  also  the  reflection 
that  in  those  arts  we  have  lost  much  that  was  repulsive.  The  heart  of 
the  sculptor  never  acted  with  his  arm.  It  was  the  pure  work  of  the  brain. 
God  is  living — all  these  were  dead — and  he  that  lingered  too  long  as  he 
gazed  on  their  beauty,  found  that  dissolution  is  succeeded  by  decay. 
In  them  the  shades  of  death-like  expressiveness  is  cast  on  forms  so 
vital,  so  full  of  marble  breathfulness,  as  to  mingle  the  mysterious  and 
seemingly  severed  principles  of  life  and  death,  as  they  unite  in  no  other 
being  of  the  fancy,  save  the  spectral  woman  who  diced  with  death  for  the 
ship's  crew  and  won  the  ancient  mariner, 

"  The  night-mare  Life  in  Death  was  she 
Who  thicks  nftn's  blood  with' cold. " 


ON    THE    DOUBLING    OF    CONSONANTS    IN    ENGLISH. 

Real  reduplications  of  consonants,  that  is,  reduplications  of  their 
sound,  are  in  most  languages  comparatively  rare.  It  cannot  be  too 
clearly  understood  that  in  words  like  pitted,  stabbing,  massy,  etc.  there 
is  no  repetition  of  the  sound  of  t,  b,  or  s.  Between  the  word  pitted, 
that  is,  marked  by  the  small-pox,  and  pitied,  as  being  an  object  of  pity, 
there  is  no  diflerence  of  pronunciation,  so  far  as  the  sound  of  the  t  is 
concerned. 

There  are,  however,  a  few  cases  of  true  reduplication.  In  com- 
pound and  derived  words,  when  the  former  part  of  the  whole  word  ends, 
and  the  latter  part  begins  with  the  same  consonant  sound,  tliat  sound  is 
repeated  distinctly.     Thus  : 

K  is  doubled  to  the  ear  in  book-case. 
L  is  doubled  in  civil-list,  soulless,  solely.,  vilely. 
JY  is  doubled  in  innate,  unnatural,  oneness. 
T  is  doubled  in  state-tax.,  seaport-town. 
Even  here  one  of  the  doubled  sounds  is  sometimes  dropped  by 
those  who  would  yet  be  thought  correct  speakers. 
29 


226  THE    CARDK.V  OF   n.AXTfc 

la  ordinary  cases,  tlierefore,  the  doubling  of  a  consonant  is  lo  be 
regarded  merely  as  an  orthographical  expedient  for  preserving  the  short 
quantity  of  the  preceding  vowel,  or  else  for  exhibiting  the  etymology 
of  the  word,  as  there  are  many  other  orthographical  expedients  or  con- 
ventional modes  of  writing,  particularly  in  English. 

This  orthographical  expedient  is  employed  uniformly  after  mono- 
syllables, ending  with  a  single  consonant  and  having  a  short  vowel, 
when  a  new  syllable  is  added;  as,  drag,  dragging ;  mat,  malted  ;  mad, 
madded  ;  cap,  capped  ;  slab,  stabbing. 

Also  after  other  words  accented  on  the  last  syllable,  under  the  same 
conditions  ;  as,  remit,  remitting  ;  imbed,  imbedded  ;  entraj),  entrapped  ; 
herob,  berohbed  ;  inter,  interring  ;  defer,  deferring. 

Also  after  words  ending  with  the  atomic  mutes,  c,  /,  p,  which  require 
a  partial  or  secondary  accent  on  the  last  syllable  ;  as,  traffic,  trafficking  ; 
buffet,  huffetted  ;  kidnap,  kidnapped.  So  frolic ;  benefit,  covet,  closet, 
discomfit,  limit,  profit,  rivet;  develop,  envelop,  gallop,  gossip,  scallop, 
wallop,  ivorship. 

Also  in  other  words  to  exhibit  the  etymology ;  as,  travel,  (comp. 
Tr.travailler  ;)  libel,  (comp.  Lat.  libellus  ;)  cavil,  (comp.  Lat.  cautZZor;) 
t/weZ,  (comp.  Lat.  duellum.)  'So  apparel ;  bevel,  cancel,  dishevel,  em- 
panel, gravel,  level,  model,  novel,  pencil. 

But  this  orthographical  expedient  is  properly  omitted  after  verbs  ac- 
cented on  the  penult  and  having  an  obscure  vowel  in  the  ultimate  syl- 
lable ;  as,  threaten,  lighten  ;  enter,  (very  different  from  inter;)  difer,  (very 
■different  from  defer;)  alter;  gather;  fatal,  moral,  canon;  counsel;  parallel, 
hoioel,  carol,  channel,  cudgel,  drivel,  equal,  grovel,  ravel,  rival,  shovel,  &.c. 

JVewj  Haven,  Con.  H.  D.  S. 


THE  GARDEN  OF  PLANTS  AT  PARIS. 

Le  museum  d'  histoire  naturelle  de  Paris  est  le  plus  vaste  etablissemets  qui  ait 
jamais  ete  consacre  a  la  science  de  la  nature. — Cuviek. 

Every  body  has  heard  of  this  celebrated  establishment,  but  no  man 
"vho  has  not  seen  it,  can  form  any  just  conception  of  it.  It  is  not  mere- 
y  what  its  name  indicates,  a  botanical  garden,  but  an  enclosure  of  thirty 
acres  containing  every  thing  that  lives  and  grows,  which  the  French  gov- 
ernment, witli  its  money,  energy  and  science,  could  collect  from  every 
part  of  the  known  world.  Immense  and  splendid  buildings  for  the  le- 
ception  of  these  objects  meet  your  view  in  all  directions  : — a  glorious 
place  for  the  naturalist  to  visit  is  that  garden  of  plants  and  a  charming 
place  too  for  the  mere  admirer  of  nature. 


AT   PARIS.  227 

It  would  take  a  large  volume  to  give  a  (Jescrii)lion  of  it,  but  still  I 
shall  try  within  a  short  space,  to  present  an  outline  sketch. — Let  me  be- 
gin with  the  menagerie  : 

The  ground  plot  of  this  department  is  cut  through  bv  numerous 
walks  which  serpentine  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  labyrinlli.  Twenty-one 
large  compartments  or  parks,  surrounded  and  closed  by  a  double  railino-, 
in  each  of  which  there  is  a  small  building  into  which  the  animals  can 
retire,  cover  all  that  section  destined  for  those  animals  which  are  harm- 
less. The  rest  is  occupied  by  a  vast  rotunda,  in  which  are  kept  the 
large  herbivorous  quadrupeds — two  immense  aviaries — a  large  semi-cir- 
cular gallery  for  the  monkeys — and  lodges  for  the  ferocious  beasts. 

The  building  containing  these  lodges  is  very  long,  and  admirably 
adapted  to  the  exhibition  and  protection  of  the  animals.  There  is  a 
large  number  of  them  and  they  are  all  kept  in  the  most  perfect  order. 
This  department  does  not  look  very  unlike  any  other  well  regulated 
menagerie,  except  that  the  building  is  continuous  in  a  line,  the  cages 
are  larger,  and  the  animals  are  not  tormented  by  cruel  keepers  for  the 
sport  of  gaping  idleis. 

All  the  harmless  and  herbivorous  quadrupeds  have  a  large  space  of 
ground  to  range  in,  so  that  they  can  take  exercise,  and  thus  their  health 
is  pieserved. 

The  birds,  of  which  there  is  an  immense  number  of  species,  are 
kept  in  cages  of  the  size  of  an  ordinary  room,  in  which  they  have  am- 
ple space  to  fly, — many  dilTerent  species  are  kept  in  the  same  cage  and 
seem  to  live  in  harmony,  althougii  there  is  generally  one  cock  of  the 
■walk,  who  rules  all  the  rest.  1  think  there  are  twenty  of  these  large 
wire  enclosures,  in  which  may  be  seen  living  birds  from  every  part  of 
the  world.  Besides  these,  there  are  large  arliiicial  ponds  for  the  water 
fowls,  and  more  retired  enclosures  thickly  planted  with  trees  and  shrub- 
bery for  the  propagation  of  pheasants  and  other  birds,  which  require  re- 
tirement and  silence. 

You  can  scarcely  name  any  animal  which  may  not  be  found  living 
in  this  establishment.  The  greatest  possible  care  is  bestowed  on  them 
and  every  thing  is  done  to  promote  tlieir  comfort  and  keep  them  in  good 
condition.  Here  the  beavers,  the  muskrats,  the  otters  and  all  others  of 
that  family  have  their  ponds  in  wliich  they  can  swim  just  as  when  in  a 
state  of  nature,  and  even  the  huge  elephants  have  water  deep  enough  for 
them  to  revel  in.  As  far  as  possible,  all  the  other  animals  are  accom- 
modated with  every  tiling  as  they  had  it  when  roaming  wild  in  their  na- 
tive foiests.  .You  find  more  animals  in  this  garden  than  are  comprised 
in  twenty  of  t!io  largest  travcUincr  menageries  we  .■see  in  this  country. 


228  THE   GAKDEN  OF  PLANTS  ]N   PARIS. 

But  let  us  enter  one  of  the  large,  massive  buildings  we  see  on  all 
sides.  Yes  ;  I  have  heard  before  of  this  long  suite  of  rooms  filled  with 
skeletons  of  almost  all  animals  in  creation.  This  is  ihe  7miseum  of  com- 
parative analomy,  in  which  Cuvier  immortalized  himself.  Only  twelve 
large  rooms,  and  most  of  them  with  galleries,  are  filled  with  specimens 
of  this  department  of  science  !  Every  thing  that  could  possibly  be 
anatomized  is  to  be  seen  here,  and  those  things  which  could  not  be  pre- 
served, have  been  most  admirably  figured  in  wax.  In  this  way,  for  in- 
stance, is  represented  the  gestation  of  many  animals,  the  human  not  ex- 
cepted, from  the  very  beginning  to  the  end  of  it ! 

Are  you  tired  of  looking  at  these  dry  bones  and  artificial  anatomies  ? 
Well,  just  enter  another  immense  edifice  near  at  hand  and  mount  to  the 
second  story  first.  You  will  there  see  about  six  long  rooms  crowded 
with  prepared  mammalians  exclusively,  but  these  are  done  up  in  the 
highest  style  of  the  taxideiraic  art. 

VVhen  you  are  satisfied  here,  just  walk  on  and  you  will  come  to  a 
suite  of  rooms  containing  fifty-seven  of  the  largest  sort  of  glass  door 
cases  full  of  birds.  You  are  bewildered  and  do  not  know  where  to  be- 
gin. You  are  wearied  with  the  gorgeousness  of  their  plumage,  and  al- 
most wish  that  there  had  never  been  so  many  birds  created,  for  it  seems 
impossible  for  you  to  inspect  the  half  of  them. 

Do  you  like  to  look  at  reptiles?  Just  go  down  the  broad  stairs  and 
enter  a  large  apartment  towards  the  south  and  there  you  will  have  an 
opportunity  of  examining  more  tlian  three  thousand  specimens. 

Of  the^.s7ies,  there  is  no  end  ;  thirty-seven  cases  contain  this  match- 
less collection.  This  is  the  place  in  which  Cuvier  and  Valenciennes  work- 
ed out  their  system  and  produced  their  immortal  book  on  Fishes.  In 
walking  through  these  rooms  and  knowing  that  here  these  and  other 
illustrious  naturalists  worked  and  wrote  and  some  of  them  died,  it  makes 
a  man  feel  solemn,  as  though  the  spirits  of  these  mighty  men  still  hov- 
ered round,  reluctant  to  leave  the  place  where  their  strongest  efforts  were 
put  forth. 

I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  enter  minutely  into  an  account  of  the 
collection  of  spiders,  crabs,  myriapodes  and  insects — of  the  shells,  an- 
nelidce  et  radiata.  Their  number  is  twenty  legions — and  their  arrange- 
ment perfect. 

Perhaps,  you  are  fond  of  geology.  Here  you  will  see  almost  every 
thing  which  that  science  has  developed  in  the  way  of  fossils.  Six  large 
rooms  are  occupied  with  the  specimens. 

If  you  love  minerals,  here  your  eyes  have  a  feast  which  you  will 
never  forget.     Sixty  large  gla:is  door  cases  arc  filled  with  the  finest  spe- 


rHiLosoriiv  of  stoums.  220 

cimens  the  world  can  produce,  and  amongst  tliem  arc  the  rarest  that 
have  ever  been  found. 

Now,  wishing  to  breathe  fresh  aii  again,  walk  out  into  the  garden. 
You  are  fond  of  flowers. — You  will  there  see  numerous  hot-houses, 
which,  if  they  were  all  put  together,  would  reach  further  than  eighteen 
hundred  feet,  and  in  them  you  will  find  every  tropical  plant  that  can  be 
introduced  and  cultivated.  There  are  more  than  sixteen  thousand  species 
of  plants  in  this  garden,  without  counting  the  varieties  ;  and  here  you  may 
revel  in  botanical  luxuries,  if  you  happen  to  have  any  taste  in  that  way. 

After  promenading  here  for  an  hour  or  two,  you  will  be  ready  to  en- 
ter another  large  building,  and  that  is  the  Library.  What  a  collection  of 
works  on  Natural  History !  Thousands  on  thousands  fill  the  well  ap- 
pointed shelves  and  cases.  Here  a  student  of  Natural  History  could 
spend  his  life,  for  whatever  has  been  written  on  this  subject,  worth  buy- 
ing, is  found  in  this  Library. 

You  may  perhaps  feel  inclined  to  peep  into  the  various  lecture  rooms, 
and  if  it  happens  to  be  lecture  hour,  and  there  are  few  hours  which  are 
not  lecture  hours,  you  will  see  crowds  of  studious  young  men  hastily 
scratching  down  into  their  portfolios  the  valuable  instruction  that  falls 
from  the  lips  of  the  celebrated  men,  whom  the  enlightened  government 
of  France  has  placed  in  those  chairs. 

A  mere  cursoiy  glance  at  the  scientific  riches  of  the  garden  of  plants 
will  convince  any  one  of  fhe  truth  of  Cuvier's  declaration  at  the  head  of 
this  paper,  "that  it  is  the  largest  establishment  that  has  ever  been  conse- 
crated to  the  science  of  nature."  M. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  STORMS.       NO.  VH. 

BY  PROF.  W.  L.  ATLEE,  M.  D.,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

During  a  hot  day  when  the  dew  point  is  very  high  and  the  uppei* 
and  lower  currents  of  air  are  calm,  the  steam  power  in  the  air  is  very 
great,  and  the  up-moving,  cloud  forming  column  goes  up  to  an  immense 
perpendicular  height.  The  action  of  the  column  now  becomes  extreme- 
ly violent  in  consequence  of  the  cloud  becoming  very  lofty  at  its  top 
and  of  great  depth,  and  thus  so  much  vapor  will  be  condensed,  and  so 
large  an  amount  of  caloric  of  elasticity  evolved,  that  the  cloud  will  ra- 
pidly assume  a  specific  gravity  much  inferior  to  that  of  the  surround- 
ing air. 

In  this  state  of  things,  the  air,  which  is  pressed  in  on  all  sides  be- 
low, coming  in  beneath  the  cloud,  will  expand  by  diminished  pressure 
even  before  it  ascends,  and  in  expanding  will  become  colder  about  five 


230  ruir.osoruv  of  storms. 

(lejrrces  for  every  iucli  which  the  barometer  stands  lower  under  the 
cloud  than  on  tlie  outside.  This  expansion  and  refrigeration  of  the  air 
will,  under  tliesc  circumstances,  occur  immediately  upon  its  ingress 
under  the  cloud,  apart  from  the  influence  exerted  by  its  ascent. 

In  consequence  of  this  reduction  in  temperature  from  diminished 
pressure,  the  air  will  not  have  to  ascend  so  high  before  it  begins  to  con- 
dense its  vapor,  as  it  did  when  the  cloud  began  to  form  at  first,  and 
consequently  the  cloud  will  be  formed  lower  and  lower  by  the  ascend- 
ing column,  in  proportion  as  it  increases  in  perpendicular  height  from 
its  base  to  its  top.  The  difference  between  our  assumed  dew-point  and 
temperature  being  10  degrees,  the  height  of  the  base  of  the  cloud  at  its 
first  formation  will  be  1000  yards,  but  as  every^  inch  of  depression  of  the 
barometer  produces  5  degrees  of  cold,  the  difference  between  the  dew- 
point  and  temperature  will  be  reduced  correspondently.  Consequently 
if  the  barometer  fall?  one  inch,  this  difference  will  be  only  five  degrees, 
which  being  the  complement  of  the  dew-point,  the  condensation  of  va- 
por must  occur  500  yards  lower  than  at  first,  making  the  base  of  the 
cloud-  at  this  instant,  only  500  yards  high.  A  reference  at  this  time  to 
the  temperature  of  the  dew-point  will  at  once  indicate  this  fact. 

The  cloud  becoming  of  greater  perpendicular  diameter,  and  the  bar- 
ometer sinking  more  and  more  under  its  base,  in  consequence  of  the 
specific  levity  of  the  air  in  the  cloud,  and  this  being  a  cooling  process, 
the  temperature  of  the  air  below  the  cloud  is  rapidly  reduced  down  to  the 
temperature  nearly  of  the  dew-point.  The  air,  therefore,  not  only  expands 
and  cools  so  soon  as  it  comes  under  the  cloud,  but  cloud  may  begin  to 
form  so  soon  as  the  air  comes  into  the  centre  of  the  ascending  column, 
even  before  it  has  left  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  thus  the  cloud  will 
touch  the  earth. 

If  the  cloud  now  be  narrov/  and  very  lofty  lift  strife  of  elements 
})ccomes  intense.  With  a  mighty  steam-power,  it  sweeps,  with  mighty 
grai;deur,  across  the  sea,  or,  in  the  majesty  of  its  might,  drives  its  im- 
petuous career  over  the  earth,  at  once  prostrating,  with  unrelenting  fury, 
the  firmly  rooted  monarchs  of  the  forest,  and  desolating  the  strongest 
and  proudest  architectural  monuments  of  juan.  Well  may  the  Psalmist 
.say  that  '*the  voice  of  the  Lord  is  upon  the  waters !"  that  lie  "shaketh 
the  wilderness!"  that  He  "rides  upon  the  wind,  and  directs  the  storm  !" 

I  will  endeavor  to  illustrate  this  part  of  the  subject  by  detailing  the 
phenomena  that  usually  occur  in  the  forming-stage  of  these  violent 
storms.  If  we  are  upon  a  mountain  when  those  clouds  called  cumuli. 
are  forming  over  a  plain,  we  will  perceive  that  their  bases  are  all  upon 
the  same  level.     Should  the  dew-point  be  very  high,  and   everything 


PHILOSOI'IIV   OF   STOI{M'>.  231 

favorable,  we  will  see  some  rising  above  the  rest.  If  \vc  watch  now  un- 
til one  becomes  very  lofty,  and  appears  to  take  the  lead  ol'  the  rest,  its 
base  will  no  longer  remain  on  the  same  level,  but  becomes  lower  than 
the  bases  oflhe  other  cumuli.  The  top  now  ascends  until  it  becomes  more 
lofty  than  what  is  denominated  the  hail-cloudy  and  as  we  observe  it  as- 
cending higher  and  higher,  we  will  perceive  the  base  of  it  descending 
lower  and  lower.  The  base  now,  instead  of  being  flat  as  at  first,  is 
bulged  out  below  like  an  udder,  projecting  one  or  two  hundred  yards 
below  the  original  base.  It  now  begins  to  spread  out  at  the  top,  re- 
sembling the  top  of  a  mushroom.  We  will  see  the  udder  continuing  to 
descend  lower  and  lower  until  at  last  it  reaches  to  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  assuming  the  form  of  an  inverted  cone,  and  the  whole  cloud  now 
looks  like  the  stem  and  top  of  a  mushroom.  If  we  should  be  in  a  fa- 
vorable situation  in  relati<m  to  the  cloud  it  will  now  appear  very  deep, 
and  before  the  udder  reaches  the  earth,  we  will  observe  leaves  and  other 
light  bodies  flying  up  into  it,  and  as  the  cloud  approximates  to  the  earth 
heavier  bodies  will  ascend,  and  finally  when  it  strikes  the  earth  it  opens 
upon  it  with  all  its  fury,  carrying  up  bodies  of  immense  weight,  logs, 
wagons,  trees,  roofs  of  barns  and  houses,  kc.  with  incredible  power 
and  velocity.  This  "besom  of  destruction"  as  it  travels  over  the  sea 
produces  the  Waler-spout^  and  on  land  is  the  Tornado. 

Although  I  have  spoken  of  the  cloud  descending  to  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  ]  have  merely  described  the  circumstance  as  it  appears  to  the 
eye.  The  cloud  does  not  sink  down  as  it  appears  to  do,  and  as  is  sta- 
led in  vvorks  on  3Ieteorology.  From  what  has  been  said  above,  the  ex- 
planation of  the  formation  of  this  inverted  cone  or  udder  projecting 
from  the  original  base  of  the  cloud  may  be  anticipated.  As  the  barom- 
eter continues  to  sink  under  the  base  of  the  cloud,  the  temperature  of 
the  air  diminishes  until  it  is  reduced  down  to  the  dew-point  in  the 
whole  extent  of  the  column  from  the  base  of  the  cloud  down  to  the 
surface  of  the  earth.  At  the  same  time  the  temperature  of  the  air  all 
around  on  the  outside  of  the  column  is,  according  to  what  I  have  as- 
sumed, ten  degrees  higher  than  the  dew-point,  and  consequently  so  soon 
as  the  air  outside  is  driven  within  the  column  it  is  instantly  cooled  ten 
degrees,  and  its  excess  of  gaseous  vapor  is  condensed  into  cloud  at 
the  moment  of  its  ingress.  Thus,  instead  of  the  base  of  the  cloud  sink- 
ing down  and  forming  the  uddei,  the  latter  is  caused  by  the  accumula- 
tion of  additional  vapor  under  the  base,  brought  in  by  ther  surrounding 
air  and  condensed  by  the  cooling  power  of  the  column. 

The  levity  of  these  dense  clouds  and  the  upward  motion  of  the  air 
are  strongly  exemplified  by  the  tornado  and  water-spout.    They  are  al- 


232  episti.es  to  students. 

ways  seen  to  descend  from  a  black  cloud,  sometimes  with  a  velocity 
of  halfaniile  in  two  seconds.  Now,  as  Prof.  Espy  observes,  this  velo- 
city precludes  the  possibility  of  this  visible  spout  having  fallen  by  grav- 
ity, for,  in  that  time,  if  its  specific  gravity  were  ten  thousand  times 
greater  than  it  is,  it  could  not  fall  more  than  sixty-four  feet  in  two  sec- 
onds. Besides,  if  the  cloud  were  very  heavy  and  descended,  the  neces- 
sary consequences  would  be  that  trees,  barns, ^houses,  &c.  would  be 
crushed  by  its  immense  weight,  and  their  fragments  would  be  left  upon 
the  ground  where  they  before  stood.  But  every  fact  connected  with 
the  phenomena  of  such  storms  not  only  disproves^  such  a  result,  but 
also  the  idea  of  7nere  horizontal  centrifugal  force,  as  advocated  by  a 
certain  celebrated  meteorologist.  At  the  very  moment  that  the  cloud 
appears  to  be  sinking  lower  and  lower,  the  up-moving  current  is  be- 
coming stronger  and  stronger,  and  its  velocity  and  force  are  soon  ex- 
hibited by  the  rapidity  with  which  heavy  bodies  ascend. 

If  the  cloud  pressed  downwards,  and  there  werfe  no  other  forces 
except  the  centrifugal,  why  do  the  leaves  and  trees  Jly  up  ?  Why  do 
the  roofs  fly  up,  and  the  walls  of  buildings  /Zi/  apart,  as  if  iy  explosion? 
Why  are  shingles  and  other  light  bodies  carried  twenty  and  thirty  miles 
off  and  then  descend  in  a  hail  storm?  And  why  are  hail-stones  fre- 
quently picked  up  containing  particles  of  sand  and  other  matter  imbed- 
ded within  them  ? 

These  things  are  all  satisfactorily  explained  by  Prof.  Espy's-theory. 
Indeed  the  great  beauty  of  this  theory  is  that  it  is  a  philosophical  de- 
duction from  existing  facts,  and  is  based  upon  well  established  principles 
of  science.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  conjecture ;  he  assumes  no  hy- 
pothesis ;  he  begins,  goes  on,  and  ends  with  facts,  demonstrating  their 
truth  as  he  proceeds,  and  explaining  tlie  laws  which  govern  them.  A 
theory,  thus  founded,  must  be  correct  in  all  its  essential  features,  even 
should  some  of  the  minor  phenomena  be  misinterpreted. 


epistles  to  students.     no.  vii. 
My  Young  Friends  : 

Although  some  time  has  elapsed  since  my  last  communication,  it 
does  not  indicate  an  indisposition  on  my  part  to  continue  the  letters. 
Letter-writing  is  not  always  the  work  to  which  there  is  a  strong  ten- 
dency, and  indeed  there  is  frequently  greater  neglect  in  complying  with 
duty  in  this,  than  in  almost  any  thing  else  amongst  the  minor  moralities 
of  life.  So  strong  is  my  inclination  to  do  you  good,  if  not  by  the  com- 
munication of  new  truth,  yet  by  stirring  up  your  minds  by  way  of  re- 


EPISTLES  TO  STUDENTS.  *  233 

membraiice,  that  whatever  disinclination  may  be  obtruded  by  the  flesh, 
it  will  be  sufficiently  counteracted  by  the  spirit,  and  you  shall  not  be 
deprived  of  the  benefit  of  communications,  which  would  derive  no  ad- 
ditional force  from  an  avowed  authorship,  the  authorship  of  which  you 
will  not  be  likely  to  determine. 

You  were  left,  in  the  last  epistle,  in  full  membership  in  llie  institu- 
tion, having  passed  through  an  honorable  probation,  with  the  College 
oath  bound  on  your  conscience,  your  truth  and  honor  pledged  to  respect 
your  calling,  and  an  exposition  of  your  duties,  as  presented  in  the  ma- 
triculation vow,  in  your  hands.  Tliis  commentary  on  the  fundamental 
law  of  your  College,  the  earliest  which  has  yet  appeared,  or  at  any  rate, 
been  reduced  to  writing,  may  serve  to  guide  you  in  future  decisions,  in 
regard  to  points  of  duty,  on  which  you  may  have  doubt,  and  it  may 
be  profitably  preserved  for  reference  and  kept  as  a  vade  mecum  during 
your  sojourn  in  academic  bowers.  Occupying  this  "stand-point,"  as  the 
Germans  are  wont  to  say,  you  should  determine  that  the  brief  but  most 
important  period  of  your  life  now  before  you  shall  be  faithfully  con- 
secrated to  the  purposes  of  your  own  advancement  in  knowledge  and 
virtue. 

Time  is  a  talent  entrusted  to  us  by  our  Maker,  of  inestimable  value, 
and  you  are  bound,  as  all  men  are,  by  your  interests,  by  your  conscience, 
and  by  your  God,  to  employ  it  well  and  to  use  it  sparingly,  and  "to  pay 
no  moment,  but  in  purchase  of  its  worth."  Many  young  men,  and  many 
old  men,  have  regretted  and  bitterly  regretted  the  loss  of  time.  No 
proof  has  ever  yet  appeared,  in  the  annals  of  the  world,  that  any  one's 
life  has  been  rendered  sorrowful  by  the  recollection  of  well,spent  hours. 
To  enable  you  to  make  your  time  subservient  to  your  good,  you  should 
fix  in  your  minds  a  deep  conviction  of  its  value,  and  that  it  flies  irrevo- 
cably. As  nothing  is  more  consumptive  of  time  than  company,  and 
that  company  is  unprofitable  from  which  we  can  learn  nothing,  be  upon 
your  guard  against  forming  a  fondness  for  society,  which  whilst  it  swal- 
lows up  your  precious  hours,  furnishes  no  equivalent  for  them.  It  is 
an  exceedingly  unwise  plan  for  any  young  man,  during  his  College 
course,  to  lay  himself  out  for  special  attention  to  young  Ladies.  It  is 
unprofitable  to  him,  it  is  so  to  them.  The  implication  in  this  is  not  that 
he  is  to  hold  no  intercourse  with  womankind — far  from  it — but  that  is  not 
to  be  a  stated  employment,  his  periodical  business  from  week  to  week. 
An  hour  spent,  occasionally,  during  the  suspension  of  study,  which  the 
College  laws  allow,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  a  quantum  sufficit.  If  on 
special  occasions  two  or  three  times  in  a  College  course  more  should  be 
allowed,  all  reasonable  expectations  should  be  considered  gratified. 
30 


234 


EPISTLES  TO  STt.DEN'TP. 


These  are  views,  at  which  young  men  arrive  always,  but  in  many  in- 
stances when  it  is  too  late.  Cannot  you  be  profited  by  the  experience 
of  others,  and  acquire  wisdom  from  the  mistakes  of  those  who  have 
gone  before  you,  and  admonish  you  ? 

In  addition  to  the  loss  of  time  necessarily  resulting  from  too  much 
devotion  to  female  society,  it  is  injurious  by  unfitting  the  mind  for  study. 
It  tends  to  dissipate  it,  to  fill  it  with  ideas  not  easily  connected  with  the 
stern  lessons  of  science  and  literature.  It  opens  the  way  for  various 
irregularities  in  conduct,  both  in  our  general  relations,  and  those  specific 
ones  in  which  students  stand.  More  than  one  man  has  wounded  his 
conscience  and  pierced  his  heart  through  with  sorrow,  and  made  others 
deeply  interested  to  mourn  over  his  sad  declension  from  the  virtue  and 
rectitude  he  promised,  who  might  trace,  in  a  fair  analysis,  all  the  evils 
which  have  befallen  him,  to  a  course,  the  opposite  of  that  which  is  now 
recommended. 

More  than  one  has  experienced  a  perpetual  exile,  more  than  one  is 
experiencing  a  temporary  exile,  more  than  one  is  failing  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  studies  so  as  to  endanger  his  standing  and  his  ultimate 
success,  the  philosophy  of  whose  calamity  may  be  traced  to  a  greater 
fondness  for  the  Ladies  than  for  study. 

The  mode  in  which  this  operates  may  be  learned  from  the  following 
case,  which  is  that  of  an  individual,  and,  although  it  may  suit  many,  is 
sketched  from  the  career  of  one,  A.  who  was  sent  to  College  and 
progressed  well  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  course,  secured  a  favorable  re- 
port in  regard  to  his  scholarship  from  time  to  time,  became  a  Christian, 
and  a  professor  of  religion.  His  success  in  study  operated  upon  his  van- 
ity and  produced  a  high  degree  of  self-importance.  He  commenced  to 
visit  the  ladies,  and  fascinated  by  their  society,  he  neglected  his  studies, 
became  irregular  in  his  conduct,  frequently  violated  College  regulations, 
lost  the  confidence  of  the  Faculty,  was  reproved  frequently  and  sharply 
by  the  President,  declined  in  his  scholarship,  was  reported  unfavorably 
to  his  father  to  his  deep  grief,  became  more  and  more  deteriorated  in  his 
religious  character,  felt  more  and  more  a  disinclination  to  prepare  him- 
self for  the  sacred  office  to  which  his  aspirations  had  been  directed  since 
his  conversion,  produced  a  conviction  in  all  who  knew  him,  that  his 
moral  fitness  for  it  was  becoming  daily  less,  and  finally  experienced  in 
parental  disapprobation  a  banishment,  temporary  it  may  be,  from  his  ap- 
propriate pursuits,  which,  whilst  no  one  considers  it  unjust,  must  be  at- 
tended with  reflections  to  him  the  most  painful.  Case  upon  case  might 
be  given,  derived  not  from  the  imagination  but  from  the  memory,  illus- 
trative of  the  evil  of  that  we  now  deprecate.    These  cases  are  not  easily 


rLAGUES.  235 

forgotten.  They  are  too  sorrowful  to  pass  soon  into  oblivion.  There 
ate  too  many,  springing  up  successively  to  them,  to  hold  them  in  the 
links  of  association.  They  cannot  be  obliterated.  Wisely  is  it  ordered 
that  they  make  a  deep  impression,  for  they  are  adapted  to  constitute 
■most  salutary  warnings  for  others,  and  to  serve  as  signals  of  the  dangers, 
which  lurk  in  the  way  of  those,  who  are  tempted  to  substitute  for  study 
the  winning  converse  of  the  gentler  sex. 

Yours,  8cc. 


PLAGUES.      NO.  I. 

In  examining  the  subject  of  atmospherical  distemperatures  for  a  very 
different  purpose  from  the  present,  the  operation,  the  prevalence  and  in- 
fluence of  plague  and  pestilence  occupied  my  attention,  and  for  a  time 
diverted  me  from  my  original  course,  to  examine  the  plagues  preceding 
the  Jsraelitish  exodus  and  compare  their  phenomena  with  the  wide-spread- 
ing and  destructive  diseases  that  have  afflicted  mankind  in  subsequent 
ages. 

Pestilence,  being  one  of  the  agencies  in  the  hand  of  the  Almighty, 
by  which  his  dispensations  are  administered,  when,  for  wise  reasons,  he 
would  visit  humanity  with  afflictions,  has  from  the  period  of  earliest 
history  attracted  attention  and  enlisted  multitudes  in  the  desire  for  a  ra- 
tional explanation.  The  human  mind,  arrested  by  every  thing  connected 
with  mystery,  and  ever  prone  to  associate  mystery  with  every  thing  not 
easily  explicable,  was  early  led  to  conceive  demoniacal  agency  in  the 
production  of  pestilences,  but  at  this  day  no  such  thought  obtains  ex- 
cept with  the  unthinking. 

Although  "God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way,  his  wonders  to  perform," 
we  find  in  all  things  that  Deity  appears  to  use  natural  agencies,  where 
they  will  accomplish  his  purposes,  but  attains  his  ends  by  the  peculiarity 
attending  their  special  appearances.  The  idea  of  a  miracle,  as  under- 
stood by  many  persons,  seems  to  contemplate  the  sole  agency  of  divine 
power,  as  though  the  means  by  which  the  miracle  is  effected,  are  as 
miraculous  as  the  issue  itself  Too  many  are  thus  satisfied  and  see  no 
other  interest  in  the  circumstance.  But  a  new  field  is  opened  for  survey 
when  natural  processes  are  contemplated,  so  modified  and  arranged  by 
divine  power  as  to  develop  new  phenomena,  or  produce  new  and  un- 
usual effects.  The  prolonged  duration  of  light,  at  the  instance  of  Joshua, 
was  no  less  a  miracle  than  if  a  newly  created  sun  had  shed  its  beams 
upon  the  gathering  shade  of  night  to  light  the  bands  of  Israel  in  their 
woi-k  of  death.  When,  too,  we  contemplate  the  desolation  of  the  scourge 


236  PLAGUES. 

that  swept  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  view  the  destructive  operations  of  na- 
ture working  with  unwonted  violence, 

"Pregnant  witli  plagues  and  shedriing  seeds  of  death," 
we    are    not  less    awed    to  find  it  stayed   by  that  bound  which  Deity 
set  to  Goshen,  than  if  new  elements  had  sprung  to  action,  led  by  the 
creative  hand  in  their  career  of  destruction. 

"If  God,  like  man,  his  purpose  could  renew. 

His  laws  could  vary,  or  his  plans  undo  ; 

Desponding  faith  would  droop  its  cheerless  wing. 

Religion  deaden  to  a  lifeless  thing  ! 

Where  could  we,  rational,  repose  our  trust, 

But  in  a  power  immutable  as  just?" 
The  plagues,  which  have  at  divers  times  ravaged  the  earth,  demon- 
strate in  their  histories,  that  the  phenomena  attending  the  plagues  of 
Egypt,  have  in  highly  distempered  seasons  been  repeated  in  kind,  if  not 
in  degree.  We  may  here  remark  that  in  this  is  furnished  an  incidental 
proof  tending  to  establish  the  authenticity  and  accuracy  of  the  Bible  in 
the  truthfulness  of  its  delineations.  At  that  period  of  the  world's  his- 
tory, long  antecedent  to  any  record  of  mere  human  production,  the  in- 
spired historian  narrates  as  truth,  a  series  of  circumstances  pertaining  to 
locality  and  phenomena  of  nature,  the  accuracy  of  which  subsequent 
centuries  have  proved  by  the  recurrence  of  the  same  phenomena.  The 
history  of  Egypt,  in  the  particulars  of  Moses'  description,  seems,  ages 
long  after  the  exodus,  to  declare  that  the  Almighty  did  lay  his  hand  upon 
the  land,  and  it  will  forever  bear  its  testimony  in  vindication  of  the  truth 
of  inspiration. 

We  have  no  idea  of  allcmpting  any  philosophical  explanation  of  the 
plagues,  but  think  it  not  uninteresting  to  glance  cursorily  at  similar 
events,  which  have  occurred  in  other  ages  of  the  world. 

The  variety  observed  in  the  character  of  pestilence,  by  which  man- 
kind is  afflicted,  appeared  to  be  produced  by  different  causes.  We  see  it 
at  one  lime  apparently  the  ofl'spring  of  essential  alterations  in  the  pro- 
perties of  the  elements,  spreading  with  a  steady  march  over  extensive 
countries,  and  raging,  despite  the  change  of  season  or  climate,  with  equal 
intensity  in  the  elevated  temperature  of  the  South  as  amid  the  frosts  of 
northern  winter.  At  other  times,  apparently  the  production  of  exces- 
sively intemperate  seasons,  it  maintains  its  deadly  power,  only  until  the 
succession  of  seasons  has  deprived  it  of  its  virulence  and  terminated  its 
existence.  The  latter  is  almost  always  local  and  limited  to  a  particular 
city  or  country. 

Another  circumstance  attending  the  great  plagues  in  different  centu- 
ries is,  that  the  human  race  does  not  limit  the  operation  of  the  pefatilen- 


THE  DOWNWARD  TENDEXCY  OF  HUMAN  STATUUE.  1237 

tial  principle.  It  diffuses  its  pernicious  influence  through  the  air  and 
so  deteriorates  its  essential  constitution,  that  animals,  as  horses,  cattle, 
sheep,  and  even  dogs  and  cats,  have  fallen  victims.  The  death  of  mul- 
titudes of  fish  in  river  and  ocean  indicates  the  involvement  of  even  wa- 
ters of  the  earth  in  the  deadly  contamination. 

The  Egyptian  plagues  in  their  order  of  succession  and  phenomena 
seem  to  have  been  the  result  of  the  plague  principle  operating  in  a  highly 
concentrated  form,  yet  directed  and  limited  in  the  extent  of  its  action 
by  the  power  of  Deity.  The  elements,  wrought  to  a  state  of  the  ut- 
most agitation,  caused  earth,  air  and  sea  to  feel  these  perturbations  of 
nature,  and  man  and  animals  upon  land,  the  inhabitants  of  the  deep  and 
the  tribes  of  the  air,  fell  alike  victims  to  the  universal  scourge. 

We  very  properly  feel  amazemcnt-as,  in  imagination,  we  follow  Mo- 
ses, Avhen  having  concluded  his  interview  with  Pharaoh  and  retired  from 
the  royal  council,  he  lifts  his  mystic  rod,  and  the  elements,  moving  at 
his  bidding  to  their  work  of  death,  commence  their  agitations  upon  the 
waters  of  Egypt,  "and  all  the  waters  that  were  in  the  river  were  turned 
into  blood."  We  exclaim,  as  did  the  magicians  at  a  subsequent  plague, 
"this  is  the  finger  of  God."  K. 

Baltimore,  Md. 

THE  DOWNWARD  TENDENCY  OF  HUMAN  STATURE. 

Mr.  Editor:  The  following  fragment  came  into  my  hands  a  few 
days  ago.  I  send  it  to  you  for  the  Journal  with  the  understanding, 
however,  that  I  do  not  vouch  cither  for  the  truth  of  the  principle 
endeavored  to  be  proved,  nor  even  for  the  authenticity  and  genuineness 
of  the  illustrations.  Indeed  I  must  say  that  1  think  the  author,  who- 
ever he  is,  has  imitated  the  cunning  without  attaining  any  of  the  merits 
of  two  modern  writers,  Scott  and  Macauley.  Whenever  either  of  these 
authors  needed  a  poetical  heading  for  a  chapter  or  an  illustration  to 
give  point  to  an  argument  and  could  not  find  one  in  their  memory,  they 
usually  manufactured  it,  and  credited  it  to  "Old  Play"  in  "the  Persian 
Fable."  And  I  half  suspect  it  has  been  so  with  the  following  article,  as 
I  have  searched  diligently  but  in  vain  to  verify  some  of  his  examples ; 
however  it  would  not  be  right  to  keep  it  from  the  public  on  account  of 
my  own  deficiency  and  short-sightedness  in  finding  vouchers  for  his 
statements.  Some  of  the  learned  readers  of  the  Journal  may  possibly 
be  able  to  follow  him  in  his  authorities.  Q.  C.  X. 

The  proposition  I  contend  for  is  this  :  Since  the  creation  of  man,  ihr, 
tendency  of  human  stature  has  been  doivmcards,  and  that  it  xoill  continue 
so,  until  man  be  diminished  from  olf  the  earth. 


238  THE   DOAWNVVAUD  TE.NUE.NCY 

The  traditions  and  legends  concerning  the  stature  of  Adam  are  as 
different  and  conflicting  as  human  fancies  can  be.  Dunlop  in  his  Ro- 
man Literature,  quoting  from  some  old  writer,  fixes  Adam's  height  at  one 
hundred  and  twenty-three  feet  and  six  inches.  The  Mohammedans  ana- 
thematize all  who  believe  him  to  be  less  than  forty-one  feet  high.  Thirty- 
eight  feet  is  the  point  in  the  creed  of  the  Swenkfeldians.  Stackhouse,  a 
most  moderate  author,  assigns  Adam  ten  feet  of  corporiety. 

And  not  only  Adam,  but  the  antediluvians  also,  the  children  of  Anak, 
the  hunters  of  Nimrod,  the  contemporaries  and  the  sons  of  Noah,  were 
all  without  doubt  much  above  the  common  height  of  our  times.  And 
so  we  find  all  through  ancient  history  down  to  the  times  of  Hesiod  and 
Homer  (when  men  were  a  trifle  more  than  eight  feet,)  a  regular  down- 
ward tendency  of  the  human  stature.  This  is,  of  course,  not  hard  to  be- 
lieve, since  the  extraordinary  length  of  human  life,  that  man  enjoyed  be- 
fore the  flood,  presupposes  a  corresponding  extraordinary  length  of 
human  stature — and  as  the  one  diminished,  so  also  the  other  decreased. 

Immediately  after  the  flood  the  declension  was  marvellously  great, 
owing  most  likely  to  the  influence  of  so  much  moisture  in  the  atmos- 
phere and  the  earth,  which  in  this  instance,  contrary  to  the  ordinary  rule, 
may  have  dwarfed  rather  than  promoted  growth.  From  the  time  of  the 
flood  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  there  is  abundant  evidence  that 
though  the  stature  of  man  had  decreased,  yet  that  it  was  still  larger 
than  it  now  is.  When  Alexander  forded  the  river  Granicus,  340  B.  C, 
the  passage  was  effected  by  one  hundred  and  eighty  men  joining  hands  : 
now  the  river  is  six  hundred  yards  wide,  and  this  could  not  have  been  done 
unless  the  men  were  in  the  proportion  of  seven  feet  ten  inches,  making 
allowance,  of  course,  for  the  rapidity  of  the  current — it  being  next  to 
the  Ganges  the  most  rapid  river  in  the  world.  According  to  Xenophon, 
the  foot-prints  of  a  company  of  men  he  was  tracking  in  Persia,  were 
nearly  eighteen  inches  in  length ;  this  even  allowing  for  long  shoes, 
would  (according  to  Davies'  method  of  computation)  make  the  stature  of 
the  men  at  least  1  foot  9  inches  and  2  barley  corns  higher  than  the  pre- 
.sent  ordinary  standing.  A  very  careful  study  of  Josephus  will  convince 
the  reader,  that  in  the  times  in  which  he  wrote,  men  could  not  have 
been  less  than  7  feet  71  inches.  The  bed,  which  Julius  Caesar  carried 
with  him  in  his  campaigns,  measured  eight  feet  without  the  feathers, 
and  he  understood  economy  too  well  to  waste  either  lime,  money  or  room. 
The  specimens  of  the  old  Roman  toga  preset  ved  in  the  "Jardin  desPlantes," 
and  "the  British  Museum,"  are  6  feet  and  5  inches  long,  and  when  we 
consider  that  they  were  worn  on  the  shoulders,  we  cannot  but  perceive 
that  the  human  stature  must  have  been  considerably  more  than  that. 


OF  HUMAN  STATURE.  :^39 

The  vast  tumuli  which  were  discovered, upon  the  banks  of  the  Seine, 
in  the  16th  century,  were  supposed  to  have  been  the  tombs  of  the  300,- 
000  who  fell  in  the  wars  between  Clovis,  the  first  Merovingian  kinc,  and 
the  Eastern  Barbarians,  and  of  those  skeletons,  none  were  less  than  6 
feet  4  or  5,  and  many  an  inch  or  two  longer.  So  it  is,  the  diminution 
goes  on  little  by  little,  gradual  indeed  but  very  perceptible.  According 
to  Eginharu,  the  dwarf  of  Charlemagne's  court  was  about  five  feet  high, 
if  so  the  common  average  must  have  been  at  least  over  6  feet  6  inches, 
since  we  would  scarcely  consider  a  dwarf  to  be  remarkable  unless  he 
was  in  the  neighborhood  of  four  feet.  The  fierce  and  bearded  Huns  of 
Attila,  who  came  down  from  their  dark  forests  like  a  whirlwind  upon 
the  luxury  and  ma_gnificence  of  old  Rome,  were  said  to  have  been  over 
seven  feet  high — however  this  may  be  accounted  for  from  their  origin 
and  modes  of  life.  Gibbon  says  they  were  the  offspring  of  the  infer- 
nal spirits  and  outlavved  witches,  and  that  they  never  tasted  bread  but 
lived  upon  uncooked  flesh.  William,  the  Conqueror,  though  tire  largest 
man  of  his  age,  was  between  7  feet  3  and  4  inches. 

When  the  dark  ages  set  in,  men's  sizes  diminished  in  a  fearful  ratio, 
almost  one-eighth  of  an  inch  every  generation,  and  when  the  revival  of 
letters  brought  light  and  knowledge  to  a  benighted  world,  man  emerged 
from  the  midnight  gloom  at  least  three  inches  shorter  than  he  entered  it. 
Let  any  man  go  into  Westminster  Abbey  and  see  the  armor  of  the  dif- 
ferent ages,  from  the  Saxon  Heptarchy  to  the  Revolution  of  16S8,  and 
he  will  see  the  regular  gradations  of  descent  as  plainly  as  old  Isaac 
Rushton  could  behold  the  step  and  stair-like  proportions  of  his  twenty- 
one  sons.  Let  him  measure  his  own  size  by  them — his  own  strength 
by  wielding  their  battle-axes,  and  he  will  come  out  convinced  not  only 
that  man  has  decreased  in  stature  but  that  he  is  decreasing  and  will  soon 
be  diminished. 

It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  quoted  facts  enough  to  prove  my  propo- 
sition ;  the  examples  chosen  have  been  "ex-abundante."  The  matter  is 
as  clear  as  the  astronomical  truth  that  the  sun  rises  in  the  East  and  sets 
in  the  West.  Have  you  never  wondered  why  in  the  old  houses  of  the 
last  two  centuries,  every  thing  was  on  the  largest  scale,  the  chimneys, 
hearths,  doors,  windows,  closets,  kc  .'     This  is  but  another  evidence. 

One  word  as  to  the  philosophy  of  the  subject,  and  the  consequences  : 

Why  is  it  so.'  Some  infidels  affirm  that  the  proboscis  of  the  elephant 
has  been  produced  by  a  continual  effort — a  constant  stretching  out  of 
the  neck  of  the  animal  through  a  series  of  ages;  this  is  of  course  false, 
but  as  we  cull  medicinal  remedies  from  poisonous  plants,  so  even  from 
infidel  doctrines  we  may  gather  useful  hints.     For  six  thousand  years  man 


I 

240  THE  DOWNWARD  TENDENCY  OF  HUMAN  STATURE. 

lias  followetl  the  debasing,  UUling,  inclinations  of  his  bad  nature — his 
nerves,  his  muscles,  his  limbs,  his  flesh,  his  bones,  liis  body  have  been 
perverted,  warped,  abused,  and  consequently  dtoarfed  by  his  constant 
devotion  to  pleasure,  luxury,  and  licentiousness  :  and  hence  we  believe 
that  so  long  as  his  nature  is  evilly  inclined  his  body  will  diminish,  and 
as  Pelagrarism  is  effete  there  is  no  prospect  before  us  but  continual,  reg- 
ular, bodily  diminution. 

But  then  again  there  may  be  another  reason — it  may  be  man''s  destiny, 
the  spirit  of  progress ;  though  of  course  the  destiny  cannot  be  styled  a 
great  one,  it  may  be  a  noble  one  :  though  the  progress  be  not  a  high 
one,  yet  it  may  be  towards  perfection.  We  are  inclined  to  this  latter 
opinion :  and  we  think  that  small  men,  instead  of  being  behind  the  age, 
are  in  advance  of  it.  See  Napoleon,  Tamerlane,  Melancthon,  King  Al- 
fred, Robert  of  Normandy,  Dr.  Channing,  Solyman   the  magnificent. 

The  Patagonians  are  the  simple  children  of  nature  ;  the  Lilliputians 
have  weli  nigh  fulfilled  their  calling  and  worked  out  their  destiny. 

And  the  diminution  is  not  with  man  only  ;  but  with  animals,  trees, 
rivers,  worlds,  systems,  every  thing  has  a  tendency  to  smallness.— 
"Diminute,"  is  stamped  on  all  the  greatness  of  nature,  and  on  every 
■work  of  art, — on  man,  the  lord,  and  on  the  great  globe  itself,  and  all  its 

"gorgeous  temples  and  cloud-capped  towers." 
At  rierschel's  last  measurement  the  Sun  was  158.612  miles  less  in  di- 
ameter than  at  the  time  of  Copernicus.  Francis  Drake  sailed  round  the 
world  in  300  days,  Capt.  Stocliton  can  do  it  in  190.  The  largest  tiee 
in  Southampton  forest,  in  William  Rufus'  reign,  measured  seventeen  feet 
in  circumference,  now  none  can  be  found  above  twelve.  Topeehooche 
could  scarcely  see  across  the  Mississippi  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
and  a  lloosier's  ball  will  reach  from  Kentucky  to  the  Missouri  shore. 
The  duodecimos  of  Magliabechi  are  the  octavos  of  Home.  The  lap- 
dogs  of  the  court  of  Belilarius  were  as  large  as  our  terriers.  The  earth 
is  shrinking  into  itself;  the  oceans  are  wasting  away.  Man  is  growing 
shorter.  What  a  terrible  prospect!  Our  grand-children  will  be  as  much 
shorter  than  we,  as  we  are  shorter  than  our  ancestors. 

And  thus  it  will  go  down  and  down  and  down  to  the  lowest  point, 
and  m^n^  j)rogressing  to  the  smallest  atom  of  matter — the  indivisible 
point — incapable  of  further  diminution,  will  vanish  into  thin  air,  and 
shrunk  into  nothing,  will  be  dissipated  like 

"The  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision." 


Peuiuinbania  Olollcge,  ©cttnciburg,  pa. 

Pennsylvania  Collesje  has  now  been  chartered  about  sixteen  years.  Durino-  this 
time  its  pron:ress  has  been  such  as  to  c;rati(y  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  its 
friends.  The  Trustees  have  much  encouragement  to  hope  for  its  continued  pros- 
perity and  to  expect  future  favor.  The  proximity  of  Gettysburg  to  Baltimore  and 
Philadelphia,  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  the  morality  of  its  inhabitants,  the  cheap- 
ness of  living  recommend  the  College  to  the  patronage  of  parents.  The  course 
of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  of  any  institution  in  the  country. 
The  Preparaloni  .Department  provides  for  instruction  in  ail  the  branches  of  a  thor- 
ough English,  business  education,  in  addition  to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics 
and   Classical  Literature. 

The  College  Course  is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this 
country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  parental,  mild  and  affectionate,  but  firm 
and  energetic.  They  attend  three  recitations  a  day,  Church  and  Bible  Class  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  dan- 
^^er  of  any  great  irregularities.  Tliey  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College 
Edifice,  special  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
session,  $66  62i :  for  the  sun>,mer  session,  $A5,  121,  Washing.  .S'lO  00;  and  Wood, 
$3  00.  Total  expense,  .^■12-1  7-3.  Boarding  can  be  obtaincd'in  clubs  at  $.1  00  per 
week.  * 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 
April  and  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance" 


Rrcripts  during  Juhj, 

\\  m.  L.  Peiper,  l/r.ncastcr.  Pa. 
Kev.  M.  Diehl,  Spiinaiidd,  (). 
Rev.  L.  Kiiighl,  Bloomficld,  I'd., 
11.  A.  Spang,  Yellow  Springs,  Pa. 
(Jilliard  Dock,  Ilarrisburg,  Pa. 
A.  J.  Hunlzinger,  Gettysburg,  Pa. 
Samuel  Henry, 
E.  S.  Henry, 
A.  Yealter,  " 

Geo.  W.  Waesche,       '^ 


<k\  00  VoJ 

.  .'•> 

1  00     '^ 

3 

1  00    ^> 

3 

:>  00     ^• 

:l  h. 

J   00     - 

•_> 

]  00     - 

3 

1  00     - 

.') 

1  00     '• 

.:> 

1  00     ^' 

3 

1  00    " 

3 

PAYMENT  FOR  THE  RECOR])  AND  .lOIJRNAI-.— As  the  third 
Volume  of  the  Magazine  will  be  complete  with  two  more  numbers, 
those  Hubscribcrs,  who  have  not  yet  paid,  arc  carncsih)  requested  to  do  so. 
Ah  postage  is  now  so  low.  we  hope  that  they  will  make  their  remittannea 
uilhout  any  expense  to  the  Jouinal,  and  without  any  further  delay. — 
Address  '^Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal-  Gcllvsbur;!,  Fa"" 


Dcmt0ijilijama  i!lci>ical  (Hallcgc, 

Filbert  above  Elevcnt  street,  Philadelphia. 


''  Mpdipal  Fariilty  at  Philadclpliia. 

•  Wm.  DARRAcri,  M.  D. — Vrof.  of  TItrory  and  Practice  of  Medicine. 

;  Jo7^N  Wir.TPANK,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  ObsUttics  and.  Diseases  of  women  and  children. 

\  H.  S.  Pattkhson,  M.  D. —  Prof,  of  Materia  Med.ica. 

;,  Wm.  U.  Grant.  M.  D. —  Prof  of  .djiatovvj  and  Physiology. 

\  D.  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Principles  and  Practice  of  Surgery. 

]  W.  L.  Atlee,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Medical  Chcmislry. 

;  Arch.  F.  McIntyrk,  M.'  D. — Denionstratcr  of  .fnntomy. 

;  The  Lectures  will   conimeiice  on  Moiulay  Nov.  1st  and  ronlinne 

I  until  March. 

I  Clinical  Medicine  and  Siirircri;  at  Ike  Pennsylvania  Hospilal. 

;  tHourttious  to  Cabinet. 

;  1  From  Rev.  J.  N.  Hoffman,  Carlisle,  per  Prof.  Hay,  Fourteen  German  coins 

r  2  "  Dr.  J.  F.  Bauiii,  Readins;,  A  curious  relic. 

'.  3  "  TF//1.  M.  Baiim-,  One  coin. 

'  4  "  X>r.  T'T.  T'l^.  D«//',  Cff7-Z«x/<;,  per  ./.  Jv.  AW,  A  specimen  of  Iron  Ore. 

j;  5  "  H.  C.  Eckert,   Littlestown,  per  L.  E.  Jlbert,  A  number  o("  valuable 

coins. 

6  ■'  James  Faknesfock,  Gettysburg,  One  coin. 

7  "  V.  L.  Conrad.,  Finegrove,  One  com. 
S  "  R.  y.  Ewalt,  One  coin. 

'  y        "      D.  (Uirver,  A  specimen  of  Sandstone. 

■  tUt Citations  to  Cibrarn. 

From  the  aUtlior  per  Prof.  Sloever, 

I  An  Essiv  on  Tiie  Ilessiati  Fly,  by  Jsa  Fitch,  M.  JJ.,  Salem,  K.  Y. 

The  Wheat  Fly,  "     by       do.  do. 

Winter  Insect.?  of  Western  N.  Y.  do.  do. 


Terms  of  the  Rr.coRn  .4N'd  .Tourxal.     One  Dollar  per  ammm 
in  advance. 
Address — '•'•Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal.^  Gett.yslurg^  Pa^ 


^^-'•]^y«-W»» 


VOLUMK   HI.] 


[number  n. 


LITEBAflY   BEGORD   kM   JOUF.l^AL 

©f  tljf  fiitiiaam  5\.30ariatinn  of  |)en;ifli)luiuiia  (ilolUflf, 


SEPTEMBER,    J 847. 


..^llii 


r*"'' Mf  iiTi^iiSv.;.; n  r  — TffififTa'i'Tri 


COXnUCTED 

in  a  Committee  oC  (Ue  ^ssoctatlo 


u. 


CONTENTS." 
THE   AtinORA    tioREAI.l-,       _  -  - 

AN   ELECTRICAI.   EXPEOSIOX.  - 
SONNET.-— THE   VIOLET,        -  -  -. 

WESTMINSTJER  ABBEY, 
COLLEGE   RECOLLECTIONS. 
IIYDROPATHV,         -  -  -  - 

EXTRACTS   FRO?/!   A    LECTinE   ON  TRT^i  11, 
FENNSYLVVXIA   COLLEGE, 


2'n 

218 
219 
253 
2-36 
2-59 
261 


1.1    sheet,  periodical — Postage,  2^  cents,  to  any  distance  witliin  the  Union. 
NELNSTEDT,  TRIXTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


Pcimsulxjauia  iHollcge,  ©cUnsbuvg,  |pa. 

FACULTY    AND    INSTRUCTORS. 
C.  p.  Krauth,  D.  J).— President  and  Prof.  Nat.  and  Rev.  Rel.,  Ethics,  ^c. 
Rev.  H.  L.  Baugher,  A.M. — Prof .  of  Greek  Language,  Rhetoric  and  Oratory. 
Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and  Mechanical  Phitos. 
Rev.  W.  JVl.  Reynolds,  A  M. — Prof  of  Latin,  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic. 
M.  L.  Stoever,  a.  M. —  Prof,  of  History  and  Principal  of  Preparatory  Department. 
Rev.  C.  A.  Hay,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  German  Language  and  IJterature. 
H.  Haupt,  a.  M. — Prof  of  'Mathematics,  Drawing  and  French. 
David  Gilbert,  M.  D. — Lecturer  on  .Anatomy  and  Physiology. 
John  G.  Morris,  D.  D  — Lecturer  on  Zoology. 
A.  EssicK. —  Tutor. 
J.  K.  Plitt. —  Tutor. 

Pennsylvania  College  has  now  been  cliartered  about  sixteen  years.  During  thig 
time  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  its 
friewls.  The  Trustees  have  much  encouragement  to  hope  for  its  continued  pros- 
perity and  to  expect  future  favor.  The  proximity  of  Gettysburg  to  Baltimore  and 
Philadelphia,  the  healthiness  of  the  place,  the  morality  of  its  inhabitants,  the  cheap- 
ness of  living  recommend  the  College  to  the  patronage  of  parents.  The  course 
of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  substantial  as  that  of  any  institution  in  the  country. 
The  Preparatory  Department  provides  for  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  thor- 
ough English,  business  education,  in  addition  to  the  elements  of  the  Mathematics 
and   Classical  Literature. 

The  College  Course  is  arranged  in  the  four  classes  usual  in  the  Institutions  of  this 
country. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  parental,  mild  and  affectionate,  but  firm 
and  energetic.  They  attend  three  recitations  a  day,  Church  and  Bible  Class  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  are  visited  in  their  rooms  so  frequently  as  to  preclude  the  dan- 
ger of  any  great  irregularities.  They  are  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  College 
Edifice,  special  cases  excepted. 

The  annual  expenses  are — for  "board,  tuition  and  room-rent,  during  the  winter 
.lession.  $ifi(>  62^ :  for  the  summer  session,  .'^45  I2.\.  Washing,  .*;10  00:  and  Wood, 
.$3  00.  Total  e.\'pense,  §124  7.5.  Boarding  can  be  obtained  in  clubs  at  $1  00  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  year,  commencing  on  the  third  Thursdays  of 
April  and-  September,  each  of  five  weeks  continuance. 


PAYMENT  FOR  THE  RECORD  AND  JOURNAL.— As  the  third 
volume  of  the  Magazine  will  be  complete  with  one  more  number,  f/wsc 
subscnhers^  who  have  not  yet  paid.,  are  earnesflj;  requested  to  do  so.  As 
po.'itage  is  now  so  low,  we  hope  that  they  will  make  their  remittances 
without  any  expense  to  the  Journal,  and  without  any  further  delay. — 
Address  ''Editors  of  the  Record  and  Journal.  Gettv.sburg,  Pa." 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  in.  SEPTEMBER,  1847.  No.  11. 

THE    AURORA   BOREALIS. 

This  splendid  phenomenon,  tliough  often  witnessed  and  much  ad- 
mired, has  not,  on  that  account,  been  divested  of  any  of  its  wonderful 
and  interesting  character.  Though  many  facts  have  been  accumulated 
concerning  it  within  the  last  century,  its  nature  still  remains  a  great 
mystery.  The  ignorant  still  view  it  with  terror,  as  fore-shadowing  some 
terrible  calamity  ;  and  philosophers,  although  satisfied  that  it  is  a  phe- 
nomenon forcing  its  luminous  characters  upon  the  attention  of  the  ob- 
server according  to  natural  laws,  are  yet  divided  in  opinion  as  to  its 
cause. 

Some  of  these  opinions,  in  connection  with  its  leading  characteris- 
tics and  facts,  it  may  not,  at  this  time,  be  uninteresting  to  present. 

/.    Its  great  outline' features. 

1.  It,  sometimes,  presents  itself  to  us,  in  the  northern  horizon,  mere- 
ly as  a  diffused  light,  varying  in  height  and  brilliancy,  and  resembling 
the  light  of  approaching  day.  Hence  it  has  been  called  the  '■'■jyorthern 
Dawn,''^  the  ^^JYorthcrn  Lights,''^  or  the  ^^Jlurora  Borealis?''  For  a  simi- 
lar reason,  that,  which  is  occasionally  witnessed  in  high  latitudes  in  the 
Southern  Hemisphere,  has  been  called  the  "Aurora  Australis." 

2.  At  other  times,  the  diffused  light  is  accompanied  by  a  dark  mass, 
resembling  a  lank  of  vapor  or  of  thin-cirrus  cloud  lying  on  and  skirting 
the  horizon,  from  behind  and  above  which  the  light  seems  to  proceed. 

3.  More  frequently,  however,  broad  masses  of  luminous  matter,  in  ap- 
parently parallel  lines,  are  seen  to  dart  up,  at  various  points,  from  be- 
hind this  nebulous  mass  towards  the  zenith.  These  masses,  called 
'■'Streamers.?''  are  at  different  times,  of  various  colors,  such  as  white  and 
the  different  shades  of  red,  yellow,  and  rarely  blue.  It  is  not  unusual 
to  see  them  white  near  the  horizon,  and  red  in  their  upward  path.  Al- 
though they  generally  radiate  from  some  points  with  greater  brilliancy 

31 


542 


THE   AURORA  BOIIEALIS. 


than  others,  they  occasionally  fill  the  whole  northern  heavens,  and  are 
exceedingly  vivid,  so  that  it  is  not  strange  that  ignorant  and  excitable 
minds  should  be  filled  with  alarm  at  their  appearance.  The  parallelism, 
however,  referred  to  as  apparent  in  the  rays  of  the  separate  masses,  does 
not  reaily  exist,  for  all  evidently  converge  to  a  common  point,  which  is 
near  the  zenith.  This  is  very  striking  when  the  aurora  extends  far 
round  from  the  north  toward  the  east  and  west.  Then  the  sky  appears 
like  a  great  dome,  towards  the  top  of  which  the  streamers  dart  up,  from 
all  the  parts  of  the  luminous  horizon. 

4.  Accompanying  the  streamers,  and  apparently  rolled  along  and 
supported  by  them,  may  sometimes  be  seen  waves  of  light  called  ^'■au- 
roral leaves^''  and  also,  on  account  of  their  irregular  motion  and  fantas- 
tic shapes,  ^'■merry  dancers.''''  These,  to  the  highly  excitable  imagina- 
tions of  the  fearful  and  superstitious,  have  suggested  the  forms  of  armies 
engaged  in  deadly  conflict  widi  each  other,  so  that  their  hurried  and  con- 
fused movements,  the  fire-flashes  of  their  arms,  and  the  streams  of  the 
blood  of  their  slain  could  be  distinctly  seen,  and  even  the  dying  echos 
of  their  musketry  and  artillery  could  be  faintly  heard.  And  hence  auro- 
ras unusual  for  their  brilliancy,  intensity  of  color,  and  irregular  move- 
ments have  been  regarded  by  them  as  portentous  of  sanguinary  and  de- 
structive war. 

5.  It  very  frequently  happens  that  the  streamers,  which  shoot  up  to- 
wards the  zenith,  converge  in  a  bright  patch,  or  ^'■corona ;"  which  in  ita 
turn,  becomes  a  centre  from  which  the  most  brilliant  flashes  of  various- 
colored  light  are  sent  forth  :  and  which,  therefore,  becomes,  if  possible, 
on  oI;)ject  of  greater  interest  and  wonder  than  any  other  part  of  the  great 
auroral  display.  The  corona  is  therefore  not  only  the  point  towards 
which  the  streamers  from  the  northern  semicircle  of  the  horizon  tend, 
but  also  a  centre  of  emanation  in  all  directions  ;  but,  especially  towards 
the  south,  if  there  be  an  auroral  arch  in  that  direction.  It  is  generally 
an  object  of  exceedingly  great  beauty  and  splendor.  Some  coronas  have 
been  witnessed  of  a  uniform  rose-red  color,  and  others  have  been  seen 
to  flash  forth  alternate  sectors  of  red,  white,  and  yellow  light.  The  po- 
sition of  the  corona,  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  is  uniformly  found  to  be 
in  or  near  the  elevated  pole  of  the  dipping  needle,  which,  for  the  inhab- 
itants of  Gettysburg,  would  be  about  2°  east,  and  ISI'^  south  of  the 
zenith. 

6.  Another  almost  constant  characteristic  of  the  aurora  is  the  exist- 
ence of  one  or  more  Iwninous  arches^  very  much  resembling  cirrus  cloud, 
stretching  across  the  heavens  from  some  eastern  point  to  one  near  the 
west.     Such  an  arch  was  described  in  the  June  number  of  this  Jo^urnai? 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS,  243 

byD.  Kirkwood,  Esq.  The  cases, in  which  one  arch  only  is  to  be  seen 
by  the  same  spectator  are  far  more  frequent,  than  those  in  which  two  or 
more  are  visible  at  the  same  time.  Captain  Bonnycastle,  who  has  given, 
in  the  30th  volume  of  Silliman's  Journal,  an  interesting  description  of  a 
very  splendid  aurora,  as  seen  by  him  on  the  Northern  shore  of  Lake 
Ontario,  and  who  asserts  that  the  arch  is  a  constant  character  of  the  au- 
rora of  the  lakes,  saw  four  at  the  same  time.  When  several  co-exist, 
the  more  southern  is  mostly  white ;  the  rest  are  sometimes  party-col- 
ored. The  breadth  of  the  arch,  which  is  nearly  uniform  throughout  its 
whole  extent,  is  from  3°  to  12°,  being  different  during  different  auroras, 
and,  we  have  every  leason  to  believe,  also  for  different  observers  or  in 
different  localities,  even  during  the  same  display.  We  are  forced  to  this 
last  conclusion  by  the  discordant  estimates  made  by  various  careful  ob- 
servers of  what  was  regarded  the  same  arch.  That  local  causes  mate- 
rially influence  the  appearance  or  non-appearance  of  the  arch  is  more 
than  probable,  from  the  fact  stated  above  upon  the  authority  of  Captain 
Bonnycastle,  who  saw  three  or  four  not  noticed  by  others,  and  from  the 
fact  that  one  observer  may  see  two,  whilst  others,  not  more  than  a  few 
miles  distant,  will  see  only  the  brighter. 

Though  sometimes  irregularly  bent  in  a  portion  of  its  course,  the 
arch  is  generally  very  regular  and  well  defined,  and  lies  nearly  in  a  great 
circle  of  the  sphere.  Its  position  is  generally  a  little  oblique  to  the  nie- 
redian.  That  of  April  7th  ult.,  for  example,  cut  the  eastern  horizon  at 
about  15°  south  of  east,  and  met  the  opposite  horizon  at  about  15°  north 
of  west.  The  position  is  perhaps  at  right  angles  to  the  magnetic  not 
the  terrestrial  region. 

As  to  its  formation  it  is  various.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  be  formed 
by  a  portion  of  luminous  cloud  appearing  in  the  eastern  quarter  of  the 
heavens,  and  gradually  e.xtending  itself  westward  by  a  kind  of  rolling 
or  wave-like  motion.  This  motion,  which  by  some  has  been  compared 
to  that  of  forming  snow-drifts  is  a  very  constant  character  of  the  arch. 
Sometimes,  however,  it  seems  to  start  almost  suddenly  into  existence, 
and  to  disappear  and  reappear  successively  again  at  nearly  the  same 
place  in  the  heavens.  And  at  other  times  it  seems  to  arise  from  a  por- 
tion of  the  nebulous  matter  or  vapor,  described  as  lying  in  the  northern 
horizon,  detached  and  impelled  towards  the  equator  by  the  same  force 
which  impels  the  streamers.  Indeed,  becoming,  after  it  has  "moved  some 
distance  from  the  north,  the  southern  limit  of  the  streamers,  it  appears 
as  if  it  weie  thrust  forward  by  them.  This  was  beautifully  exempli- 
fied in  the  remarkable  arch  of  the  7th  of  April  last,  which  was  so 
extensively  witnessed  and  admired  in  the  northern  United  Slates.     At  a 


244  THE   ALKORA  BOREALIS, 

few  minutes  before  10  o'clock,  P.  M.,  as  several  observers  at  this  place 
directed  their  attention  to  the  northern  heavens,  they  vi^ere  delighted  to 
see  an  arch,  then  about  45°  high  at  its  apex,  moving  rapidly  upwards  to- 
wards the  zenith,  whilst  the  streamers,  extending  up  from  the  horizon 
to  the  arch,  caused  the  whole  appearance  to  resemble  that  of  a  -'rain  of 
fire"  descending  from  a  burning  cloud.  In  a  few  minutes,  (the  time  was 
not  noted  accurately,)  the  arch  reached  the  zenith,  where  it  appeared 
about  10  o'clock,  and  from  which  it  afterwards  slowly  moved  a  few  de- 
grees farther  southward.  In  this  position  it  remained  until  nearly  11  o'- 
clock, and  there  presented  that  singular  wave-like  motion  westward  al- 
ready alluded  to,  and  at  times  sending  forth  short  branches,  like  stream- 
ers, towards  the  north-west.  The  polar  distance  reached  by  the  moving 
arch  before  it  becomes  stationary,  is  various  at  different  times;  being,  as, 
it  would  seem,  equal  to  the  repulsive  power  exerted  from  the  magnetic 
focus  or  the  origin  of  the  streamers.  It  does  not,  however,  often  reach 
farther  southward  than  the  zenith  of  latitude  35°.  But  such  an  altitude 
would,  to  one  in  high  latitude,  appear  to  be  in  the  southern  horizon,  so 
that  the  apparent  height  may  vary  from  0°  up  to  180°. 

From  the  language  of  D.  K.,  in  the  June  nnmber  of  this  Journal,  we 
would  infer  that  the  arch  was  formed  near  the  zenith.  This  is  undoubt- 
edly the  point  at  which  most  observers  first  noticed  it ;  but  to  us,  at  this 
place,  it  appeared  to  arise  from  the  northern  horizon.  Several  other  in- 
stances of  a  similar  kind  have  been  witnessed  by  us  on  former  occa- 
sions, and  other  observers  have  given  an  account  of  having  witnessed 
the  same  origination  of  arches.  It,  indeed,  appears  to  us,  probable  that 
the  "corona"  and  arches  have  a  common  origin,  viz :  luminous  matter 
transported  from  the  focus  of  power  in  the  northern  horizon.  In  the 
case  of  some  of  tlie  arches,  and  in  most  of  the  coronas  this  is  apparent 
to  the  senses  ;  and  in  other  cases,  this  sudden  appearance  and  westward 
motion  may  arise  from  a  peculiar  condition  of  the  nebulous  matter  un- 
der which  it  becomes  visible. 

7.  Another  remarkable  circumstance  in  reference  to  the  Aurora  Bo- 
realis  is  the  gigantic  scale  on  which  it  displays  itself.  In  many  instances, 
indeed,  its  visible  effects  are  witnessed  alone  in  high  polar  latitudes,  but 
not  unfrequently  they  are  seen  as  far  south  as  within  30"^  degrees  of  the 
equator.  And  its  extent  in  longitude  is  even  greater  than  that  in  latitude. 
The  aurora  of  Nov.  14th,  1837,  was  witnessed  in  this  country  from  St. 
Louis,  Mo.,  to  Maine,  and  at  the  same  time  in  England,  and  probably  over 
the  whole  continent  of  Europe,  thus  extending  nearly  half  way  round  the 
globe.  And  were  it  not  for  the  interference  of  the  superior  light  of  the  sun 
whirh  renders  il  invisible  during  the  day,  it  is  highly  probable  that  it  would 


THE   AIROU.V  BOKEALIS.  245 

somelimcs  be  found  in  every  degree  of  longitude,  bathing,  not  only  the 
north  pole,  but  the  whole  northern  hemisphere,  as  far  as  to  the  tropic  of 
Cancer,  in  its  fiery  streams.  It  is  worthy  of  inquiry  whether  the  south 
pole  may  not  sometimes  be  enveloped  in  a  similar  manner  at  the  same 
time,  and  thus  the  whole  globe  invested  by  an  aurora,  which  is  visible 
only  in  the  part  lying  in  its  shadov/  or  where  night  exists,  and  in  the 
regions  of  greatest  activity,  which  are  near  the  poles. 

8.  This  leads  to  the  remark  that  the  aurora,  contrary  to  the  ordinary 
opinion,  is  not  a  phenomenon  developed  ly  the  darkness  of  the  night.^  or 
the  absence  of  the  S7in.  A  sufficient  number  of  cases  are  on  record 
which  go  to  prove  its  existence  during  day-light.  A  peculiar  brilliancy 
in  the  northern  sky  contrasting  it  with  the  rest  of  the  heavens,  the  bank 
of  what  seemed  to  be  vapor  or  cirrus-cloud  lying  immovably  in  the 
same  horizon,  the  existence  of  the  aurora  in  all  its  splendor,  with  its 
.streamers,  arch  and  corona  as  soon  as  the  evening  twilight  had  departed, 
the  melting  away  of  the  same  into  the  superior  morning  twilight,  and 
its  existence  on  several  successive  nights,  and  shown  by  the  disturbance 
of  the  magnetic  needle  as  having  continued  during  the  day,  all  go  to 
.show  that  it  is  not  confined  to  night  and  is  perhaps  in  no  way  depen- 
dent on  it.  It  has,  however,  variations  in  intensity  and  splendor,  which 
it  is  believed,  by  many,  to  have  some  reference  to  the  hour  of  the  night. 
It  is,  for  instance,  sometimes  very  active,  soon  after  the  departure  of 
twilight,  at  about  10  o'clock,  P.  M.,  at  1  or  2  o'clock,  A.  M.,  and  about 
two  hours  before  sunrise ;  whilst,  during  the  intermediate  periods,  the 
lighting  up  of  the  sky  is  less  intense.  But  as  these  phases  are  not  en- 
tirely uniform,  they  may  only  prove  that  the  aurora,  from  some  un- 
known cause,  is  subject  to  alternate  fits  of  greater  or  less  splendor. — 
Neither  is  it  dependent  for  its  display  upon  the  winter,  according  to  the 
prevailing  opinion.  A  careful  comparison  of  a  list  of  auroras  occurring 
through  a  number  of  successive  years,  will  show  that  as  many  take  place 
during  the  summer  as  the  winter  months. 

9.  The  number.)  which  take  place  during  each  year  seems  not  to  be 
uniform.  There  have  never  less  than  two  or  three  been  witnessed,  and 
not  more  than  about  twenty  or  thirty.  But  when  we  reflect,  that  in  mid- 
dle latitudes  the  light  is  often  faint  and  evanescent,  it  would  require  con- 
stant attention  to  the  heavens  during  every  night  to  discover  all,  and  then 
many,  may  also  take  place  during  the  day  ;  so  that  we  may  safely  infer 
their  number  as  vastly  greater  than  that  just  named  as  the  highest,  and  we 
may  not,  perhaps,  be  far  from  the  truth,  when  we  say  that  it  is  probable 
that  the  aurora  is  a  constant  phenomenon  attending  our  globe,  seen  only 
under  favorable  conditions,  and  when  developed  in  its  greater  degrees  of 


246  THE   ALRORA  BOREALlS. 

intensity.  This  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  in  the  polar  regions  it  almost 
constantly  illuminates  the  sky,  and  thus  renders  the  cheerlessness  of  the 
long  absence  of  the  sun  the  more  tolerable. 

The  question  whether  there  are  periods  or  cycles  of  greater  and  less 
intensity  :  that  is  whether  during  a  part  of  a  century  or  during  several 
centuries  together  the  auroras  occur  in  greater  numbers  and  are  charac- 
terized by  greater  splendor  and  magnitude,  has  not  been  satisfactorily 
answered.  But  the  prevailing  opinion  among  philosophers  is  that  there 
are  such  cycles.  The  great  magnificence  of  a  number  which  have  been 
particularly  noticed  and  recorded  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century 
has  favored  the  opinion  that  we  have  just  passed  through  the  period  of 
maximum  activity  ;  and  the  silence  of  Grecian  and  Roman  philosophers 
as  well  as  of  all  antiquity,  has  been  deemed  sufficient  proof  of  the  al- 
most entire  absence  of  auroral  phenomena,  at  least  during  the  immense 
period  in  which  Greece  and  Rome  were  the  representatives  of  the  learn- 
ing and  science  of  the  world.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  atmospheric 
phenomena  mentioned  by  Aiistotle,  Seneca,  and  Pliny,  such  as  "a  bloody 
appearance  of  the  heavens,"  that  of  "fire  descending  to  the  earth,"  and 
"a  light  seen  in  the  night  time  equal  to  the  brightness  of  day,"  which 
may  be  referred  to  the  aurora  borealis,  "the  whole  of  antiquity  is  abso- 
lutely silent  on  this  subject."  ft  is  only  within  about  a  century  and  a 
half  that  we  have  frequent'  records  of  its  occurrence.  But  this  silence 
may  be  accounted  for  without  the  supposition  that  it  was  a  less  frequent 
and  splendid  phenomenon  then  than  now.  The  ancients  knew  abso- 
lutely nothing  of  those  regions  in  which  the  aurora  usually  displays  it- 
self, their  attention  was  but  little  directed  to  the  noticing  of  and  account- 
ing for  any  atmospheric  phenomena  whatever  in  a  rational  manner,  and 
they  saw  every  thing,  even  the  few  auroras  which  might  be  witnessed 
by  them  in  their  particular  regions,  in  the  distorted  light  of  their  idola- 
trous systems,  and  no  doubt  looked  upon  them  merely  as  prodigies. — 
Besides,  if  even  in  this  age  of  enlightienment  of  the  masses,  nineteen- 
twentieths  of  the  people  see  only  a  few  of  the  more  splendid  auroras, 
and  permit  the  impression  made  by  them  soon  to  be  effaced  from  their 
minds,  and  we  are  dependent  upon  the  diligence  of  a  few  scientific  men, 
Avho  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  observation  of  the  heavens,  for  the 
records  which  we  have,  what  could  we  expect  else  than  that  from  the 
Grecians  and  Romans,  possessed  of  fewer  facilities  and  motives  for  re- 
cording and  transmitting  such  information  to  future  times,  we  should 
derive  nothing  definite  or  valuable  upon  this  subject,  though  the  heavens 
may  always,  as  now,  have  been  occasionally  glowing  with  auroral  light. 
And  it  is  also  not  a  little  remarkable  that  the  frequency  and  splendor  of 


A\  ELECTRICAL  EXPLOSIOX.  24t 

auroras  should  have  happened  to  increase  so  much,  just  as  the  night  of 
ignorance  was  dispersed  by  the  revival  of  learning  through  the  agency 
of  the  art  of  printing,  and  the  earth  and  sky  were  observed  and  ques- 
tioned under  the  Baconian  philosophy.  Upon  a  view  of  the  whole  sub- 
ject, then,  we  incline  to  the  opinion  that  the  supposition  of  the  secular 
character  of  the  aurora  has  no  foundation  in  fact,  and  that  all  theories 
which  attempt  to  account  for  it  are  worthless.  The  phenomenon  has 
indeed  itsvariations,  just  as  the  weather  has,  but  it  is  believed  they  are 
confined  comparatively  within  narrow  bounds. 

//.  The  disturbance  of  the  Magnetic  JVeedle. 
This  is  an  interesting  and  important  effect  accompanying  the  aurora. 
It  is,  however,  a  variable  effect.  It  is  different  for  different  places,  even 
during  the  same  display ;  amounting,  in  some  localities,  to  as  much  as 
9°  or  10°  in  several  hours,  in  others  to  less  than  1°,  and,  as  asserted  by 
some  observers,  in  others  being  equal  to  0°.  But  however  this  may  be 
the  disturbance  of  the  magnetic  needle,  both  in  declination  and  dip,  is  a 
constant  effect  of  the  aurora.  In  almos't  all  the  instances  observed  with 
sufficient  care  the  needle  was  caused  to  decline  more  eastward  than 
westward  of  its  mean  position  at  other  times.  It  is  not  much  affected 
by  the  arch,  or  the  diffused  light,  or  the  bank  of  luminous  matter  in  the 
horizon;  but  it  is  very  much  disturbed  by  the  crimson  columns,  and 
whenever  the  streamers  are  in  a  state  of  great  activity.  It  thus  gives 
evidence  of  the  existence  of  an  aurora,  which  cannot  be  seen  on  account 
of  a  clouded  sky,  or  the  light  of  day.  It  has  even  given  information  in 
the  United  States  of  an  auroral  display  taking  place  in  Europe,  but  of 
which  no  evidence  was  furnished  to  the  eye. 
(  Conclusion  in  our  next.) 


An  Electrical  Explosion. — On  the  10th  of  August  ult.,  at  about 
9§  o'clock,  p.  M.,  I  witnessed  what  seemed  to  be  the  explosion  of  a  cloud 
by  electricity.  Having,  for  a  few  moments,  watched  a  very  active  thun- 
der-cloud, for  the  purpose  of  knowing  the  precise  direction  it  was  taking, 
I  was,  immediately  upon  looking  away,  startled  by  an  intense  glare  of 
light,  which  completely  obliterated  every  thing  from  my  sight,  and  which 
was  in  about  a  second  afterwards,  followed  by  such  a  thunder-crash  as 
made  me,  momentarily,  feel  as  if  the  heavens  were  about  tumbling  down. 
As  soon  as  I  could  distinguish  objects  again,  I  looked  up,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  the  cloud,  whose  well-defined  and  rounded  summit 
had  just,  a  few  seconds  before,  ranged  with  two  bright  stars,  about  30° 


248  ^fi.NNF.T. — VIOI.F/r 

s.  w.  of  the  zenith,  had  now  been  spread  out  into  a  cirrus-cloud  extend- 
ing beyond  the  zenith.  The  electric  discharge  had  taken  place  in  that 
part  of  the  cloud,  and  had  apparently  exploded  it  or  carried  it  suddenly 
a  great  distance  into  the  previously  clear  space. 


SONNET 

TO    MY    SON    ONE    YEAR    OLD. 

My  Son  !  when  iirpt  I  took  thee  in  mine  arms, 

And  kiss'd  thy  cheek  crimson'd  with  life's  first  blush, 
I  little  knew  the  feelings  that  would  gush 
Spontaneous  from  the  heart — against  all  harms 

To  guard  thee,  and  avert  whate'er  might  crush 
The  infant  blossom  plac'd  beneath  my  care 
To  foster,  and  for  brighter  realms  prepare  ! 
In  one  short  year  how  dear  hast  thou  become, 

Or  when  thou  iaughest  in  thy  merry  glee, 
Or  when  in  tears  that  dry  so  speedily ! 
How  hast  thou  tripled  all  the  joys  of  home, 

Almost  forbidding  thought  from  it  to  roam  ! 
Heaven  grant  still  many  a  happy  year  to  thee, 
Thy  mother's  pride,  thy  father's  joy  to  be. 


THE  VIOLET. 
FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    GOETHE. 

A  Violet  stood  in  the  mead, 

Drooping,  without  an  eye  to  heed  ; 

It  was  a  lovely  flower. 

There  came  a  youthful  shepherdess, 

With  light  step,  soul  all  cheerfulness, 

Thither,  thither 

Unto  the  mead,  and  sang. 

"Ah  !"  thought  the  violet,  "were  T 
"The  fairest  llower  beneath  the  sky 
"For  only  one  brief  hour, 
"Until,  pluck'd  by  that  lovely  maid, 
"And  pale  upon  her  bosom  laid 
"Tho'  but,  tho'  but 
"One-fourth  of  some  brief  hour." 

Alas!  the  maiden  came  indeed, 
Deign'd  not  the  violet  to  heed. 
Trod  down  the  lowly  flower. 
It  sang  and  died,  rejoicing  still, 
"And  tho'  I  die,  yet  die  I  will 
"By  her,  by  her, 
"And  at  her  very  feet." 

Gettyshurg,  Pa.  R. 


249 

WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

A  vessel  is  speeding  its  way  o'er  the  waters.  Over  us  side  a  trav- 
eller listlessly  bends,  and  gazes  into  the  deep  blue  sea  rolling  beneath. 
The  waves  gently  ripple  against  the  ship's  side,  curling  their  crests  into 
wreaths  of  foam,  which  spaikle  in  the  sunlight  with  dazzling  brilliancy. 
Every  thing  is  beautiful  and  bright:  and  surely  nothing  can  be  farther 
from  the  thoughts  of  him,  who  is  looking  down  upon  all  this,  than 
Death.  Yet,  far  below  him,  among  the  coral  rocks,  rest  the  bones  of  • 
many  who,  too,  at  one  time  perhaps,  looked  upon  those  peaceful  waters 
and  recked  not  that  Death  lurked  beneath  their  mirrored  surface. 

Where  has  not  Death  been  ?  The  world  is  his  domain,  where  he 
has  swayed  his  sable  sceptre  in  all  ages.  The  brow  upon  which  the 
wrinkles  of  time  have  thickly  gathered,  as  well  as  the  head,  around 
which  the  curling  ringlets  of  youth  cluster,  are  alike  laid  low  in  the 
dust  by  his  merciless  hand. 

But,  though  Death  thus  relentlessly  tears  away  from  us  those  whom 
we  hold  dear,  the  mind  clings  strongly  to  their  memory.  The  tendrils 
of  our  affections  have  twined  about  them ;  and  tears  unbidden  start 
when  fancy  woos  the  images  of  "dear  departed  ones."  We  love  and 
revere  them  still,  and  our  feelings  find  vent  in  tokens  of  affection,  be- 
stowed upon  their  lifeless  remains.  And,  although  these  last  sad  tributes 
no  longer  affect  them,  they  afford  us  the  melancholy  pleasure  of  fondly 
thinking,  that  their  spirits,  hovering  near,  see  and  are  satisfied. 

The  affectionate  sister,  at  the  return  of  Spring,  anxiously  watches 
the  opening  of  the  first  rose-bud,  that  she  may  haste  away,  and  scatter 
its  fresh  petals  over  the  green  hillock,  that  presses  the  bosom  of  a  be- 
loved brother.  One  raises  a  rough  stone,  upon  which  is  cut,  in  rude 
characters,  the  initials  of  the  deceased.  Another,  willing  to  let  the 
world  know  how  good  a  man  has  gone  from  their  midst,  emblazons  up- 
on a  tablet  of  finer  texture  the  virtues  of  him  who  rests  beneath.  The 
wealthy  man  raises  a  statue,  and  a  Nation  rears  a  pile,  that  towers  to 
the  clouds,  under  which  the  great,  the  good,  the  noble,  and  the  mighty 
of  her  land  are  "gathered  to  their  fathers." 

Such  is  Westminster  Abbey  ! — Look  upon  its  spires  pointing  heaven- 
wards, glittering  in  the  reflection  of  the  glorious  sunbeams.  How  em- 
blematic of  the  fame  of  those,  whose  last  resting  place  they  point  out! 
Whilst  the  sunlight  of  their  good  deeds  streams  from  their  memories, 
we  gaze  upon  their  resplendent  glory  with  reverential  and  admiring 
eyes;  but,  when  the  fires,  which  once  burst  upon  us,  have  waned  in  their 
brightness,  when  the  flame,  which  has  not  been  kindled  upon  the  altar 
32 


250  WESTMINSTER  ABBET. 

of  Truth,  has  gone  down  in  its  socket,  their  names  facie  away  from  our 
sight,  and  sink  forever  in  the  sea  of  oblivion. 

A  mysterious  building  is  that  Abbey,  that  Palace  of  Death! 

"A  temple,  shadowy  with  remembrances 
Of  the  majestic  past ! 

Around  it,  the  affections  of  a  nation  cluster,  for  even  in  England,  good 
and  great  men  are  only  discovered  to  be  such,  only  begin  to  be  beloved 
#and  revered,  when  their  spirits  are  beyond  praise  or  censure,  and  their 
bodies  mingled  with  their  kindred  dust. 

We  enter  its  portals  with  bowed  heads,  and,  with  noiseless  footstep^ 
thread  our  way  among  the  tombs  of  those,  who,  "being  dead,  yet  speak." 
Our  eyes  are  cast  upon  the  ground,  and,  in  the  tesselated  pavement,  are 
the  rude  marks  of  the  chisel,  exhibiting  to  our  eyes  characters  that  will 
soon  need  the  kind  offices  of  an  Old  Mortality,  to  rescue  their  subjects 
from  oblivion.  We  direct  our  attention  about  us,  down  the  long  aisles, 
•which  stretch  away  from  us  on  every  side ;  and,  in  the  array  of  sta- 
tues, pillars  and  monuments,  vainly  endeavor  to  fix  our  gaze  upon  any 
single  object.  With  reverence  and  awe.  we  lift  our  eyes  to  the  fretted 
ceiling,  where  the  delicate  pillars  shoot  up  with  graceful  curves  in 
pointed  arches.  The  folds  of  massy  drapery  and  gorgeous  banners 
cover  the  walls.  The  large  arched  windows  admit  through  their  stained 
glasses,  the  "dim  religious  light"  of  evening,  which  steals  along  the  cor- 
ridors, "in  a  path  of  dreamy  lustre,"  softening  the  bold  projections,  and 
melting  away  into  the  gloom  of  the  recesses  beyond.  We  gaze  upon 
all — below  us,  around  us,  above  us — then  with  hearts  too  full  for  utter- 
ance, sink  at  the  base  of  a  monument;  and,  with  head  reclined  upon 
the  marble,  muse  upon  the  Past,  the  Present  and  the  Future,  here  so 
vividly  brought  before  our  minds. 

Before  us  pass,  in  ghostly  array,  the  grim,  gaunt  forms  of  mail-clad 
warriors,  time-honored  sages  and  ladies  fair,  who  thronged  the  courts  of 
Sebert  and  liis  successors,  and  whose  ashes  now  rest  with  his,  under 
the  monument  of  his  zeal  and  attachment  for  his  holy  religion.  All 
traces  of  the  Present  vanish  from  our  sight ;  and  we  are  amongst  an- 
other race  of  beings.  The  iron-shod  heel  rings  upon  the  stone  pave- 
ment, the  raised  visor  reveals  tlie  stern  unyielding  fiont  that  quails  not, 
when  dangers,  in  demon  shapes,  threaten  to  overwhelm — the  gauntleted 
hand  rests  upon  the  hilt  of  the  broad  falchion,  ready  at  the  moment  to 
unsheathe,  either  in  the  cause  of  honor,  to  protect  injured  innocence 
and  oppressed  virtue,  or  cleave  to  the  shoulders  the  haughty  Saracen, 
whose  blood-red  flag  waves  from  the  battlements  of  Salem's  sacred 
walls.     The  Lion  Heart  is  there,  rushing  on  with  the  maddened  fury  of 


VVfiSTMINSTER  ABBET.  25l 

the  whirlwind,  hewing  himself  a  way  through  the  mass  of  his  foes,  all 
reeking  with  gore,  which  gushes  forth  at  every  stroke  of  his  ponderous 
battle  axe.  ******* 

Now  the  scene  shifts,  and,  what  we  would  call  a  more  enlightened 
generation  fills  the  "places  which  once  knew  their  fathers."  The  Phil- 
osopher is  sitting  in  his  study ;  and,  whilst  his  own  mind  is  bursting 
the  bonds  which  heretofore  fettered  it,  he  is  opening  up  a  way  to  Truth, 
upheaving  the  foundations  of  Error,  clearing  away  every  obstruction 
that  might  impede  the  progress  of  others,  and  giving  to  Science  the  No- 
vum Organum,  by  which  she  has  ever  since  been  guided.  The  States- 
man is  standing  among  the  assembled  powers  of  the  realm,  who  watch, 
as  from  an  oracle,  the  words  of  sage  wisdom  which  drop  from  his  lips. 
And  then,  from  afar,  come  swelling  the  notes  of  the  Swan  of  Avon — 
sounds  that  gain  in  sweetness  and  force,  the  farther  they  roll  from  the 
source  whence  they  sprang.  #  *  *  #  * 

What  mean  the  sounds  which  now  burst  upon  our  ears  ?  The  heavy 
tolling  of  the  deep-toned  bell,  and  the  sullen,  measured  roar  of  distant 
cannon  !  What  mean  the  habiliments  of  wo  and  the  mourners  going 
about  the  streets  ^  "Know  ye  not,  that  there  is  a  Prince  and  a  great 
man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel !"  The  silver  cord  has  been  loosed,  and 
they  are  bearing  him  to  his  long  home,  the  tomb  of  the  Kings,  the  grey- 
old  Abbey.  Its  massy  portals  open  wide  to  receive  the  d«st  of  him, 
who,  but  a  few  years  before,  had  the  crown  placed  upon  his  head  within 
its  walls.  Mark  the  pomp,  the  palling  pageantry,  and  then,  for  a  mo- 
ment, turn  with  us  to  a  different  scene,  which  is  transpiring  in  another 
part  of  this  same  realm.  Before  the  door  of  a  humble  cottage  are  as- 
sembled a  few  sturdy  peasants,  to  perform  the  last  sad  act  of  this  world, 
for  one  to  whom  they  had  looked  up  as  to  a  father.  No  empty  parade 
mocks  the  stroke  of  Death  ;  and  when  the  hour  arrives,  a  grey-headed 
old  man  rises  and  places  himself  in  front  of  the  body.  All  heads  are 
uncovered,  and  the  old  man,  whilst  his  thin  locks  are  moved  by  the 
breeze,  raises  his  clasped  hands  and  utters  a  short  but  feeling  prayer. 
The  plain  deal  coffin  is  jaised,  and  borne  along  at  the  head  of  the  little 
procession  to  the  village  church-yard.  They  stand  around  the  grave, 
and  then 

"They  lay  liis  silver  temples  in  their  last  repose." 

Silence  reigns  around.  The  old  man  approaches  the  grave.  With  one 
hand  he  removes  his  hat  from  his  brow,  the  other  he  raises,  and  bend- 
ing forward,  whilst  a  tear  starting  from  his  eye  rolls  down  his  furrowed 
cheek,  his  thin  lips  move,  and  he  breathes,  "Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
thou  shah  return."     The  clods  roll  upon  the  coffin — he  turns  away — all 


252  ^VE.sTWI^sx£R  abbly. 

follow,  save  those  who  remain  to  fill  up  the  grave.  Their  duty  is  soon 
accomplished,  and  they  too  depart.  Now  all.  have  gone.  All .''  no,  not 
all !  A  poor  orphan  lad,  who  had  been  saved  from  death,  and, reared  by 
that  kind  old  man  whose  burial  we  have  witnessed,  remains.  Seated 
upon  a  stone,  he  had  watched  with  unuttered  anguish,  the  filling  of  the 
grave.  He  had  heard  the  sound  of  the  spade,  smoothing  over  the  top, 
and,  when  all  had  departed,  he  llirew  himself  upon  the  mound  andmourned 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  that  he  should  no  longer  have  one  to  love 
him  as  his  poor  old  father  had  done.  But  who  mourns  at  the  tomb 
of  the  King  ?  Do  the  scalding  tears  of  grief  fall  upon  his  tombstone  ? 
Alas,  no !  We  stand  and  gaze  upon  the  splendid  monument,  the  varied 
tracery,  and  rich  hangings,  and  can  almost  fancy  a  hand  writing  above, 
in  letters  of  lire,  "Vanity  of  vanities  !"  *  *  *  * 

Again,  from  afar  comes  noise  and  tumult.  Again  the  bells  chime, 
but  the  death-knell  has  changed  to  the  merry  peal.  Again  the  cannons 
roar,  but  the  minute  gun  is  succeeded  by  quick  successive  discharges. 
And  then  is  borne  along  upon  the  breeze,  faintly  at  first,  but  growing 
stronger,  the  cry,  "God  save  the  King!''  A  nation  has  found  her  Osiris, 
and  the  mourning  for  the  lost  is  changed  into  rejoicings  for  the  found. 
Again  the  gates  are  thrown  wide  open,  and  again  the  crowd  of  the  great 
ones  of  the  earth  fill  the  Abbey,  which,  as  if  in  sympathy  with  the  oc- 
casion, lays  ofl'  its  "cathedral  look,"  and  hides  its  sombre  walls  beneath 
the  folds  of  smiling  tapestry. 

What  a  contrast!  There  rises  the  monument  of  a  King  yet  moist 
with  a  nation's  tears,  there  stands  the  coronation  chair  in  which  his  suc- 
cessor is  receiving  on  his  fevered  brow  the  diadem,  that  once  encircled 
his  brow,  now  cold  in  death.         *  *  *  *  * 

And  now,  leaving  the  Past  and  the  Pre?ent,  we  are  borne  irresistibly 
on  to  the  Future.  Its  dark  mysterious  depths  cannot  conceal  from  us, 
that  those  who  shall  hereafter  move  upon  the  stage  of  existence,  will 
tread  ligluly  over  the  spot,  consecrated  by  the  relics  of  power,  wisdom 
and  genius.  In  fancy  we  can  see  the  verger,  many  years  hence,  point- 
ing the  visitor's  eye  to  the  names  of  those,  of  whom  he  has  learned  that 
they  were  great  and  good  men,  who  lived  long,  long  ago.  And  how 
the  stranger's  eye  kindles,  when  the  names  of  Chaucer,  Milton,  Shakes- 
peare, Diyden,  Goldsmitli,  Addison  fall  upon  his  ear;  and  how  he  feels 
a  sacred  awe  stealing  over  him,  when  he  realizes  that  he  is  indeed  stand- 
ing over  tlie  dust  of  men  so  great,  so  good  ! 

But  who  cannot  look  forward  to'  the  time,  when  even  their  names 
may  cease  to  be  mentioned,  or  will  only  meet  the  eye  of  the  antiquary, 
on  the  pages  of  old  dusty  folioii .'    The  tooth  of  Time  may  gnaw  away 


COLLEGE   nLCOLLKClIO.NS.  2o3 

what  now  renders  llie  Abbey  beautiful  and  grand,  and  leave  standing, 
nothing,  but  the  crumbling  walls,  from  which  the  owl  will  hoot,  and 
among  which  ghosts  will  hold  their  midnight  orgies.  And  then  the 
firm  stone  will  moulder  away  and  away,  until  not  one  block  shall  re- 
main upon  another,  where  now,  the  already  old  Abbey  rears  its  lofty 
turrets.  Standing  among  the  ruins  of  Petra  and  gazing  upon  its  wonders 
we  exclaim,  where  now  is  human  glory  ?  The  spirit  of  twenty 
centuries  of  death-like  silence  reviving  moans  through  the  oriels  of  its 
crumbling  temples,  "Passing  away."  The  lofty  Pyramids,  around  whose 
tops  their  builders  fondly  hoped  Eternity  would  play,  must  perish.  A 
broken  corner  here,  a  crumblingmass  there,  utter  slowly  but  surely, 
"Passing  away."  And  the  Abbey — though  prince  and  people  strive  to 
the  last  to  preserve  this  great  Mausoleum,  this  national  Urn  of  national 
greatness,  the  hollow  winds,  that  sweep  along  the  shattered  fretwork 
of  its  pointed  arches,  mourn,  "Passing  away.'  There  is  written  upon 
the  fleeting  clouds  of  heaven — upon  the  deep  waters — upon  the  giants  of 
the  forest — upon  the  everlasting  hills — upon  all  things  earthly — upon 
Man  himself,  "Passing  away." — And  soon  comes  the  time,  when 

"The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself. 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind  !" 


COLLEGE    RECOLLECTIONS. 

Whether  college  recollections  are  profitable  or  not  to  the  reader,  may 
be  a  question  not  easily  settled.  To  those  who  were  actors  in  them, 
they  are  often  beneficial,  as  the  means  of  impressing  deeply  upon  their 
minds  how  little  gratification  grows  out  of  the  best  contrived  and  most 
clever  trick.  Notwithstanding  the  extraordinary  tact  which  teachers  of 
youth  acquire  in  ascertaining  character,  they  are  often  deceived.  The 
wild  and  reckless  dare-devil  is  not  always  the  most  tricky  or  trouble- 
some. There  are  some  sober-sided  grave-faced  chaps,  who  have  run- 
ning through  them  an  under-current  of  fun  and  frolic  that  seems  to  be 
inexhaustible.  These  are  the  fellows  who  will  maintain  a  respectable 
standing  in  their  classes  and  yet  have  a  hand  in  almost  all  the  mischief 
that  is  disturbing  the  College  or  neighborhood.  They  will  retire  to  rest 
at  the  proper  hour  and  rise  again  to  run  through  town  and  disturb  the 
peaceful  slumbers  of  their  unoffending  neighbors.  ]Many  of  their  pranks 
could  be  told,  if  the  narration,  by  anv  construction,  could  be  made  use- 


254  COLLE(.E   RECOLLECTIONS. 

ful  or  enlertaiiiing.  We  will  select  one  out  of  many  on  account  of  its 
singularity,  and  because  it  was  productive  of  no  serious  injury,  except 
to  the  parties  engaged.  There  were  two  young  men,  unlike  in  other  re- 
spects, but  agreeing  in  this,  that  they  were  much  annoyed  by  the  bell 
which  rang  them  out  of  bed  at  an  hour  in  the  morning  most  delightful 
for  repose.  How  to  interrupt  the  everlasting  ding-dong  over  their  heads, 
they  knew  not.  The  bell  was  in  the  belfry  which  formed  the  cupola 
on  the  College.  The  entrance  to  the  belfry  was  practicable  through  two 
doors  at  the  opposite  ends  of  the  College,  one  of  which  was  never  un- 
locked, and  the  key  to  the  other  was  safely  guarded  by  the  faithful  jan- 
itor. The  chums  often  speculated  upon  the  feasibility  of  an  attempt  on 
the  bell,  but  all  their  speculations  resulted  in  nothing.  At  one  time, 
they  thought  of  daring  an  ascent  over  the  eves  of  the  roof,  as  they  lodg- 
ed on  the  fourth  story.  At  another  they  proposed  to  enter  the  attic 
whilst  the  janitor  was  ringing  the  last  evening  bell,  and  then  effect  their 
purpose  at  leisure.  But  two  obstacles  were  in  the  way  :  first  they  would 
be  locked  in  for  the  night  and  their  escape  would  be  doubtful  until  the 
next  evening,  and  they  prided  themselves  much  in  not  being  detected — 
secondly,  they  were  too  conscientious  to  do  injury  to  the  building  which 
did  not  belong  to  them.  They  resolved  not  to  attempt  any  thing  unless 
it  could  be  done  without  injuring  any  one  in  person,  or  property,  or  re- 
putation ;  for,  whilst  they  loved  a  joke,  they  could  not  enjoy  one  at  the 
expense  of  their  neighbors.  Besides,  the  beauty  of  the  whole  enter- 
prize  depended  upon  the  accomplishment  of  it  without  detection.  After 
deliberating  a  long  time,  at  length  L.  said  to  P.,  '^I  have  it— we, will  slop 
that  bell  this  very  night,  and  in  the  morning  we  will  have  a  long  snooze." 
"How  will  you  accomplish  your  purpose  ?"  responded  P.  ''When 
Kooney  (the  janitor)  rings  the  first  bell  in  the  evening  he  leaves  the 
keys  in  the  door  and  goes  down  stairs.  Whilst  he  is  gone,  I  will  take 
the  keys  and  unlock  the  door  on  the  opposite  side,  and  to-night  we  will 
turn  up  the  bell  and  fill  it  with  water,  which,  at  this  season,  (January,) 
will  freeze  into  thick  ice,  and  to-morrow  the  bell  will  swing  but  not 
sound."  "Capital!"  exclaimed  P.  "Kooney  will  think  the  bell  is  be- 
witched !"  According  to  this  arrangement  the  door  was  unlocked,  and 
the  key,  unobserved,  replaced.  About  12  midnight,  the  two  chums  gro- 
ped their  way  through  the  College  garret,  thumping  their  heads  against 
the  rafters  ever  and  anon,  until  they  discovered  the  stairs  leading  to  the 
cupola.  After  they  had  made  every  thing  safe,  they  turned  up  the  bell, 
and  after  propping,  filled  it  with  water,  and  then  silently  retired  to  their 
room,  chuckling  at  the  idea  of  the  long  morning's  sleep.  Vain  expec- 
tation!  indulged  only  to  disappoint.     The  morning  came,  and  with  it 


COLLEGE    RECOLLECTIO\$.  255 

the  hated  ding-dong  of  the  bell.  "Holla,  L. !"  exclaimed  P.,  "what  is 
the  matter  ?  \  reckon  that  old  bell  leaks."  The  truth  is  that  the  first 
pull  of  the  rope  turned  the  bell  with  such  a  jerk  that  ice  and  water  fell 
on  the  platform  and  left  the  clapper  free  to  perform  its  wonted  work. 

The  first  failure  was  not  sufficient  to  damp  the  ardor  of  resolute 
spirits.  Disappointment  only  stimulated  effort.  The  door  was  yet  un- 
locked. The  enterprize  and  failure  were  known  only  to  the  two  chums. 
A  new  plan  was  suggested.  If  the  clapper  were  unscrewed  there  could 
be  no  ringing.  The  next  night,  bitter  cold  and  piercing,  the  clapper 
was  attacked.  All  the  instruments  employed  were  metal,  freezing  to  the 
fingers  wherever  they  touched.  At  length  after  much  labor  and  no  little 
suffering,  the  bell  swung  free  without  a  clapper.  Now  we  have  you, 
old  fellow,  thought  they,  you  will  no  more  disturb  us.  There  lie  un- 
der that  board  until  you  are  found.  We  can  now  sleep  without  the  dis- 
turbance of  your  perpetual  clatter. — "I  say,  P.  what  will  Kooney  think, 
ha,  ha,  ha  ! — pull — pull^  but  no  answer  from  the  old  bell.  Won't  he  be 
filled  with  wonderment  ?" 

With  these  reflections  they  retired  to  rest.  "Sweet  is  the  sleep  of  the 
laboring  man  whether  he  eat  little  or  much."  The  chums  realized  the 
truth  of  the  proverb,  and  slept  undisturbed  until  morning,  when,  lo ! 
-their  ears  were  saluted  by  the  same  sounds  of  the  bell  somewhat  modi- 
fied. They  could  hardly  believe  the  evidence  of  their  ears.  Instead  of 
the  usual  long  pull  and  swing,  calling  the  shivering  -students  in  mourn- 
ful strains  from  their  beds,  they  now  heard  short,  rapid  and  shrill  tones, 
as  if  the  bell  or  the  ringer  were  in  a  passion.  The  mystery  was  speed- 
ily unravelled.  Kooney,  with  his  accustomed  gravity,  pulled  at  the  bell- 
rope,  and  when,  to  his  amazement,  there  was  no  responsive  sound,  he 
very  naturally  ascended  to  the  belfry,  and  ascertaining  that  the  clapper 
had  disappeared,  reported  to  the  resident  Professor.  No  other  remedy 
occurring  at  the  time,  the  janitor  was  ordered  forthwith  to  use  a  ham- 
mer, which  he  applied  with  an  energy  suited  to  the  extraordinary  emer- 
gency. This  accounted  for  the  unusual  tones  of  the  bell.  Here,  then, 
was  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  enterprize.  Much  labor,  many  hard 
thumps,  and  no  little  suffering  was  all  they  had  for  their  pains.  Poor 
recompense,  some  one  will  say,  for  their  fun.  They  themselves  thought 
so,  and  determined  that  this  should  be  their  last  enterprize  into  the  for- 
bidden region  of  transgression.  They  felt  that  they  were  completely 
foiled  in  their  efforts,  and,  what  was  a  much  more  serious  matter,  that 
they  had  done  wrong.  They  had  invaded  and  injured,  without  provo- 
cation, the  property  of  another,  and,  in  violation  of  their  obligation  as- 
sumed when  they  were  matriculated,  they  had  seriously  impaired  the 


2on  nVDROPATHV. 

discipline  of  the  institution.  It  is  gratifying  to  know  tliat  the  chums 
secured  the  good  will  of  their  instructors,  graduated  indue  time  without 
accident  or  embarrassment,  and  are  now  occupying  honorable  and  use- 
ful positions  in  society. 


HYDROPATIIY. 

While  improvements  in  the  arts  and  sciences  are  so  rapidly  making, 
and  discoveries  of  new  facts  and  new  applications  of  those  already- 
known  are  daily  promulgated,  it  is  not  strange  that  men,  actuated  by  a 
morbid  desire  for  fame  or  vvealth,  or  with  their  judgment  perverted  by 
an  unrestrained  imagination,  should  form  visionary  theories,  and  apply 
such  opinions  to  practical  life.  Such  being  the  tendency  of  the  age,  it 
becomes  every  one  to  exercise  a  judicious  scepticism  in  reference  to 
matters  of  startling  pretension. 

To  many  the  word  ^'reform''  is  a  battle  cry  of  no  ordinary  charac- 
ter. Let  a  banner  with  this  inscription  be  raised,  whether  against  the 
orthodox  religious,  moral,  social  or  scientific  creed,  and  you  have  an  ar- 
my of  the  most  incongruous  character,  uniting  only  in  opposition  to  all 
existing  views,  ready  and  anxious  to  gird  on  their  swords,  prepared  to 
battle  against  every  thing  approaching  conservatism. 

Water  has  been  recognized  as  a  curative  agent  by  every  member  of 
the  medical  profession,  from  the  days  of  Hippocrates,  the  great  father  of 
medicine,  to  the  present  time.  In  the  year  1797,  an  elaborate  treatise 
upon  the  remedial  powers  of  cold  water  was  published  in  England  by 
Dr.  Currie,  of  Liverpool,  and  looking  back  from  this  date,  we  find  the 
medical  works  interspersed  with  laudatory  notices  of  this  sanative  agent. 
This  fact  is  mentioned  to  show  the  ignorant  presumption  of  those  who 
claim  for  Preissnitz  the  credit  of  having  first  discovered  that  water  pos- 
sessed any  efficacy  as  a  curative  means.  It  frequently  happens  that  an 
ignorant  person,  having  accidentally  become  aware  of  some  plain  truth, 
well  known  to  every  intelligent  individual,  acquires  much  credit  for 
depth  and  originality  of  thought  by  pompously  announcing  this  fact  and 
expressing  with  quixotic  ardor  his  determination  to  defend  his  opinion 
against  the  assaults  of  the  world.  The  world  smiles  at  such  ignorant 
enthusiasm,  but  disputes  not.  But  when  such  a  one  becomes  emboldened 
by  perceiving  that  his  opinion  exercises  its  legitimate  influence  upon 
the  actions  of  men  and  attempts  to  give  it  an  undue  prominence,  making 
it  the  sole  guide  to  men's  actions,  thereby  setting  aside  as  worthless  all 
predetermined  fact,  it  becomes  necessary  to  show  to  what  extent  truth 
belongs  to  such  an  opinion. 


HYDROPATHY.  257 

Thus  it  has  been  with  what  is  denominated  Hydropathy,  or  the  water 
cure.  Priessnitz,  a  Silesian  peasant,  with  but  little  education,  suddenly 
conceived  the  brilliant  idea,  that  water  is  the  panacea  for  man's  ailments. 
The  enunciation  of  this  simple  view  elicits  a  sympathetic  response  from 
those  kindred  minds  who  suppose  that  truth  would  rather  reward  the 
dreams  of  fanatical  enthusiasts,  than  the  patient  and  laborious  investi- 
gations of  the  thoughtful  and  scientific.  To  those  who  would  with  one 
blow  dissolve  our  present  political  organization,  and  render  obsolete  the 
holy  institution  of  matrimony,  ultra  opinions  recommend  themselves 
with  peculiar  force.  Thus  among  the  disciples  of  Fourrier  we  find  some 
of  the  most  ardent  admirers  of  Hydropathy,  who  will  tell  you  with  the 
utmost  complacency,  that  the  water-cure  is  destined  to  work  as  com- 
plete a  revolution  in  the  science  of  medicine  as  their  system  will  upon 
the  political  and  social  opinions  of  the  world.  This  is,  I  think,  indis- 
putably true. 

But  in  what  does  the  hydropathic  treatment  consist .'  Premising  that 
there  is  little  or  no  discrimination  exercised  in  regard  to  the  character  of 
the  disease — this,  however,  is  unnecessary,  as  the  M'ater  cures  "every  ill 
to  which  flesh  is  heir" — the  patient  is  subjected  to  a  series  of  baths, 
douches,  sweatings,  and  in  addition,  he  is  required  to  drink  a  large  quan- 
tity of  water.  A  lady  informed  me  she  drank  twenty-three  glasses-full 
<laily.  The  sweating  process  is  somewhat  peculiar  :  the  patient  being 
wrapped  in  a  sheet  wrung  out  of  cold  water,  frequently  ice-water,  is 
then  covered  with  many  blankets,  so  as  to  retain  all  the  animal  heat  of 
the  body.  After  profuse  perspiration  for  two  or  three  hours,  the  patient 
plunges  into  a  bath  varying  in  temperature  from  45°  to  55°  Fah.  The 
sweating  is  frequently  undergone  twice  and  sometimes  three  times  a  day, 
with  various  baths,  douches,  Stc.  See,  filling  up  the  intermediate  time, 
and  charmingly  varying  the  monotony  of  the  system.  Such  is  the  hy- 
dropathic treatment  proper.  Let  us  examine  the  concomitant  circum- 
stances connected  with  the  treatment,  and  see  what  effect  tliey  have  had 
in  restoring  to  health  those  who  have  derived  benefit  from  a  residence 
at  a  hydropathic  institute. 

It  is  generally  located  in  some  healthy  mountain  region,  where  the 
air  is  pure ;  frequently  some  spring,  to  which  valetudinarians  have  for 
years  been  sent,  by  their  physicians,  to  recruit  their  shattered  health,  is 
turned  into  a  hydropathic  establishment.  After  having  sweated,  bathed 
and  drunk  several  glasses  of  water,  the  patient  is  made  to  walk  a  long 
distance,  frequently  five  or  six  miles,  and  then  he  breakfasts  upon  milk, 
bread,  and  butter,  with  the  fruits  of  the  season  :  another  bath  and  a  walk 
until  dinner,  which  consists  of  vegetables,  simply-cooked  meat  and  fruit. — 


'25S 


HVDROPATHV. 


The  same  routine  occurs  between  dinner  and  supper,  whicli  latter  is 
identical  with  the  breakfast.  Let  us  glance  at  some  of  the  patients  we  find 
around  us.  See  the  dyspeptic  merchant  or  professional  man.  Inquire 
jnto  his  previous  habits  of  life.  We  see  him  shut  up  in  counting-room 
or  office,  taking  no  exercise,  eating  heartily  and  hastily,  supping  late,  with 
wines  to  assist  impaired  digestion,  rising  late  in  the  morning  with  no  ap- 
petite, and  going  to  his  business  with  headache  and  lassitude.  By  this 
course  of  life  his  nervous  system  becomes  debilitated,  and  dyspepsia, 
with  its  train  of  evils,  marks  him  as  its  victim.  Can  we  not  account  for 
the  restoration  of  such  a  one  to  health,  under  the  mode  of  life  and  diet 
of  a  hydropathic  institute,  without  the  miraculous  agency  of  water  ? 
We  should  rather  say  he  is  cured,  notwithstanding  the  barbarous  mis-use 
of  one  of  our  greatest  blessings,  and,  if  properly  used,  one  of  our  most 
efficacious  remedies.  Can  we  wonder  that  the  intellectual  voluptuary, 
Bulwer,  was  greatly  benefited  by  this  change  of  life,  and  rather  than  ac- 
knowledge, that  his  previous  life  had  been  in  defiance  of  nature's  laws, 
attributed,  in  his  mawkish  and  maudlin  "confessions,"  the  benefit  he 
received  to  water  alone. 

There  are  many  persons,  with  much  pretension  to  learning,  who 
kindly  advise  the  physician  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  all  the  dif- 
ferent systems  of  empiricism,  and  practice  each  and  all  as  occasion  may 
offer.  To  these  self-constituted  advisers,  I  would  say,  "your  investiga- 
tions are  rarely  of  sufficient  depth  to  give  much  weight  to  your  opin- 
ions, for  had  you  examined  the  principles  of  the  healing  art,  you  would 
have  found  that,  so  far  as  these  systems  are  consistent  with  truth,  ihey 
belong  to  the  legitimate  profession."  A  grain  of  truth  is  filched  from 
the  labors  of  some  patient  investigator,  and  so  surrounded  with  error 
as  scarcely  to  be  recognizable ;  yet  vvhen  seen,  and  its  restoration  to  the 
owner  attempted,  we  are  gravely  told  our  opinions  have  been  modified 
by  their  visionary  theories.  To  such  men  Thomas  Hood's  sick  duck 
gives  a  sufficient  answer.  He  went  to  a  hydropathic  dispensary,  and 
after  helping  himself  to  a  sitz-bath,  and  finding  it  refreshing,  took  an  all- 
over-head-bath  and  came  up  to  the  surface.  He  raised  himself,  clapped 
his  wings,  and  was  expected  to  shout  "Priessnitz  forever,"  but  instead 
of  this  he  only  cried,  "quack !  quack !  quack !" 

However  beautiful  in  theory  the  curing  of  diseases  by  a  simple  re- 
medial agent  may  be,  it  does  not  appear  to  be  in  accordance  with  the 
principles  of  bounteous  nature,  to  have  but  one  article  by  which  we 
may  relieve  the  sufferings  of  humanity.  The  profession  will  continue 
to  pursue  its  path,  gathering  remedial  agents  from  the  animal,  vegetable, 
and  mineral  kingdoms,  and  applying  these  according  to  well  established 


A  LECTURE   ON  TRUTH.  259 

principles,  undismayed  by  the  rantings  of  homeopathic  immaterial  ism,  or 
the  boastings  of  humoral  hydropathy,  not  forgetting  that  the  efficacy  of 
the  judicious  use  of  cold  water  has  been  insisted  upon,  by  the  lights  of 
the  profession,  from  the  earliest  dawning  of,  our  beloved  science. 
Gettyshurgf  Pa.  C.  A.  C. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  A  LECTURE  ON  TRUTH. 

A    CONTRIBDTXON    IN    AID    OF    EPISTLES    TO    STUt)ENTS. 

Truth  requires  no  definition.  We  need  not  say  that  it  is  conformity 
to  the  nature  of  things,  or  employ  any  other  phraseology  to  designate 
its  characteristics.  Such  is  the  human  constitution — so  has  God  made 
us,  that  we  do  violence  to  our  nature,  if  we  do  not  seek  after,  acquire 
and  apply  it.  The  history  of  philosophy  is  a  history  of  our  race,  seek- 
ing after  truth,  and  the  greatest  philosophers  in  ancient  times,  such  as 
Socrates  and  Cicero,  were  those  who  were  most  ardent,  sincere  in  the 
search,  and  most  honest  in  the  application  of  it.  What  is  it  that  has  ren- 
dered illustrious  men  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  given  them  not  an 
ephemeral  but  everlasting  renown  ?  Is  it  not  their  love  of  truth  and  the 
toils  that  they  endured  to  obtain  it  ?  Do  not  the  volumes,  which  record 
it,  triumph  over  all  changes,  and  command  an  abiding  and  elevated  posi- 
tion in  the  estimation  of  those,  who  occupy  the  chief  places  in  the  de- 
partments of  human  life  ?  An  unparalleled  teacher,  on  a  great  occa- 
sion, when  he  witnessed  a  good  confession,  declared  that  his  mission 
vvas  sacred  to  the  interests  of  truth,  and  with  an  extraordinary  sagacity 
he  resolves  whatever  of  moral  excellence  is  developed  by  man,  un- 
der the  tuition  of  insipid  communications,  to  the  love  of  truth,  and  what- 
ever of  impurity  and  crime  may  gather  upon  the  rejection  of  the  ac- 
credited messages  of  heaven,  to  a  hatred  of  it.  Fortified,  in  our  estimate 
of  its  value,  by  authority  so  unquestionable,  we  proceed  to  remark  that 
truth  is  accessible  to  us.  We  have  faculties  to  acquire  it,  facilities  for 
the  use  of  them,  and  it  is  poured  with  a  most  munificent  hand,  all  a- 
round  us,  and  opened  to  the  perception  of  all,  who  dwell  on  the  earth. 
We  can  approach  matter  and  mind,  we  can  examine  and  learn  what 
are  their  properties;  we  can  penetrate  into  their  interior  and  expose 
their  recondite  history;  we  can  trace  their  relations  and  mark  the  phe- 
nomena which  they  exhibit,  whether  occupying  their  primitive  position 
or  assuming  new  ones  under  our  direction.  We  can  trace  effects  tf> 
their  causes,  and  announce  the  results  of  agents  with  which  we  have  fa- 
miliarized ourselves.     Even    mind  itself,  tho'ugh  so  different  from  that 


260  A  LECTURE  0.\  TRUTH. 

with  which  we  arc  most  intimate,  so  inscrutable  in  its  essence  and  sub- 
tle and  rapid  in  its  phases,  that  it  requires  a  most  practiced  eye  to  per- 
ceive and  to  follow  it,  nevertheless  is  compelled  to  yield  its  treasures  to 
enrich  our  conceptions.  Truth  in  the  department  of  morals  is  suscep- 
tible of  evolution  by  the  instrumentality  of  dialectics,  and  still  more 
within  our  reach,  through  the  medium  of  our  sacred  books.  The  Crea- 
tor of  the  Universe  is  revealed  to  our  vision  through  a  double  medium  : 
he  is  apparent  in  the  glories  of  his  creation,  by  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded, and  of  which  we  are  a  most  important  and  instructive  part, 
and  in  the  compositions  of  those  extraordinary  men  in  whose  mental 
opeiations  a  supernatural  energy  mingled  and  w^orked  truths,  such  as 
God  alone  could  teach.  It  is  not  important  that  we  should  advert  to 
truth  in  various  other  forms  in  which  it  is  accessible  to  man.  It  would, 
too,  be  a  work  of  supererogation  to  attempt  the  proof  of  the  capacity  of 
man  to  master  it.  Though  by  no  means  disposed  to  advocate  the  Hel- 
vetian theory  of  the  equality  of  man  considered  intellectually,  w^e  do 
claim  for  our  race,  in  all  cases  in  which,  through  some  inexplicable  de- 
rangement of  the  cerebral  structure,  a  drivelling  idiocy  has  not  been 
entailed,  sufficient  rationality  or  mental  capacity  to  grasp  and  hold,  if  not 
with  Newtonian  energy,  yet  with  some,  the  floating  verities  which  are 
circling  continually  around  us. 

That  the  truths,  presented  to  us  in  the  exact  sciences,  may  more  easily 
glide  into  some  minds  than  others,  cannot  be  questioned  by  those  who 
have  learned  that  such  men  have  lived  as  Newton  and  Pascal,  who  in- 
tuitively obtained  what  others,  not  unknown  to  fame,  have  been  compelled 
to  study ;  but  that  any  one  is  so  positively  obtuse,  that  a  mathematical 
idea  can  never  enter  his  pericranium,  we  are  slow  to  believe.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  other  studies.  Whatever  is  level  to  our  capacity,  we  may 
learn.  We  were  made  for  truth  ;  and  though  it  may  sometimes  seem  to 
flee  from  us,  we  may  win  it  back  by  proper  appliances. 

The  question,  why  am  I  liercf — one  more  interesting  than  which  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  ask,  and  which  never  emanated  from  a  mouth  that 
was  not  guided  by  reason — a  question,  which,  when  originated  with  any 
thing  like  an  approach  to  a  sense  of  its  importance,  involves  a  mental 
condition  of  high  promise  and  deserving  of  the  attention  of  all  who 
profess  a  creditable  philanthropy,  is  answered  by  the  reply,  you  are 
here,  surrounded  by  the  proofs  of  the  divine  existence  and  perfections, 
with  truth  in  multiform  aspects  inviting  your  attention,  with  pre-eminent 
physical  and  mental  endownients,  that  you  may  imbue  your  minds  with 
It,  put  forth  m  suitable  exercises  the  energies  of  your  souls,  cultivate 
moral  purity  tluougli  the  sanctify  nig  power  of  religion,  and  render  happy 


PEN-XSYLVANIA  COLLEGE.  261 

your  fellow  beings  by  the  communication  of  your  treasures  whether 
they  be  intellectual,  moral  or  physical.  ' 

To  search  for  truth,  to  obtain  it,  to  apply  it,  to  diffuse  it — these  are 
the  great  task  imposed  by  a  wise  Creator  on  a  richly  endowed  crea- 
ture. This  is  our  birth-right.  Unworthy  is  he  of  the  name  man — un- 
worthy the  privileges  of  civilization  and  religion,  whose  heart  does  not 
beat  high  in  resolves  to  fulfill  his  elevated  destiny  and  to  achieve  victo- 
ries over  ignorance,  sensuality  and  sin.  At  the  shrine  then  of  truth  should 
we  be  assiduous  worshippers,  and  for  it  should  we  search  as  for  hid 
treasures.  We  may  think  with  the  ancients  that  it  is  in  the  bottom  of 
a  well,  but  if  we  appreciate  properly  its  importance,  we  will  be  willing 
to  descend  and  to  obtain  it. 

I  hold  him  to  be  a  man  and  no  other,  however  strong  his  preten- 
sions from  his  corporeal  organization,  who  carries  with  him  a  convic- 
tion, that  in  the  economy  of  life  he  is  bound  by  every  motive  strong 
and  holy,  to  expend  his  energies,  not  in  sensuality  and  excess,  but  in  the 
pursuit  of  truth.  Wherever  he  can  get  it,  he  should  go.  He  ought  not 
to  think  it  too  laborious  to  search  for  it  in  distant  lands,  if  it  cannot  be 
procured  at  home.  It  was  not  unusual  in  an  earlier  period  of  the  world 
for  the  friends  of  truth  to  go  abroad  into  distant  lauds  in  search  of  it, 
to  travel  amongst  the  nations  to  learn  their  wisdom,  and  to  devote  years 

to  labors  of  this  kind. 

(To  be  continued.) 


PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE.      NO.  II. 

Having  in  a  former  number  given  some  account  of  the  'origin  and 
progress  of  Pennijylvania  College,  we  propose  now  to  present  its  claims 
to  public  favor,  to  examine  its  interior  economy,  to  ascertain  what  are 
the  advantages  it  offers.  It  will  then  be  in  the  power  of  the  community 
to  determine  whether  it  is  deserving  of  patronage.  It  asks  for  support 
on  no  other  ground  than  real  merit.  The  convenient  edifice  in  which 
the  students  are  accommodated,  the  extensive  course  of  study  pursued, 
the  ample  corps  of  instructors,  lire  respectable  and  increasing  number  of 
students,  may  all  in  themselves  fail  to  enlist  confidence,  or  may,  at  least, 
be  regarded  as  of  collateral  importance ;  there  are  other  and  higher  in- 
terests which,  if  not  subserved,  may  leave  it  without  suftlcient  recom- 
mendation to  an  enlightened  and  Christian  public. 

The  College  is  located  in  an  extremely  healthy  region.  The  atmos- 
phere is  pure  and  salubrious.  The  climate  operates  favorably  upon  those 
who  come  from  sections  of  tire  country  less  blessed  with  health.  Weak- 
ness of  body  has,  bometimes,  here  given  place  to  strength  and  vigor.  For 


262  PEXNSYI.VAMA  COLLEGE. 

the  development  of  the  physical  frame,  Gettysburg  may  be  regarded  as 
peculiarly  eligible.  This  is  a  great  recommendation  and  is  vvortliy  the  at- 
tention of  those  living  in  large  cities,  who  desire  to  educate  their  sons  in 
the  country,  and  consider  it  important  that  when  they  return  they  should 
bring  with  them,  not  only  well  disciplined  minds,  but  likewise  bodies 
elastic  with  health,  and  prepared  to  endure  the  labors  of  life.  It  is  re- 
commended by  the  cheapness  of  tuition,  boarding.  &.c.  The  expenses 
here  are  much  less  than  those  incurred  in  many  other  institutions.  The 
price  of  tuition  is  not  so  high  as  in  many  Academies  in  which  the  ad- 
vantages are  fewer.  It  need  not  cost  a  student  for  necessary  expenses 
more  than  one  hundred  and  thirty  dollars  a  year,  and  an  individual  ol 
economical  habits  frequently  expends  less. 

The  course  of  instruction  is  thorough  and  extensive.  It  provides 
for  a  business,  literary  and  scientific  education.  The  object  aimed  at  is 
to  teach  the  student  the  value  of  learning,  to  make  accurate  scholars,  to 
send  forth  strong  men,  thoroughly  furnished  for  the  duties  of  life.  In- 
struction is  given  by  recitations  from  text  books,  accompanied  with  the- 
oretical and  experimental  lectures.  The  diligence  of  the  student  is  test- 
ed by  rigid  daily  examination  ;  the  character  of  each  recitation  is  re- 
corded and  the  results  communicated  to  parents  or  guardians  in  periodical 
reports.  Defective  students  are  not  permitted  to  proceed  to  a  higher 
class,  whilst  those,  who  are  indolent,  are  transferred  to  a  lower  one.  In 
the  languages,  the  unsuspended  study  of  the  Grammar  with  a  view  to 
the  perfect  comprehension  and  retention  of  its  principles,  the  study  of 
the  text  without  any  aid  from  translations,  the  complete  analysis  of  all 
that  is  read,  and  the  collateral  subjects  of  History,  Archaeology,  of  .Es- 
thetics and  Ethics,  are  all  embraced.  It  is  intended  that  a  fondness  for 
classical  literature  should  be  created — a  taste  formed,  which  will  lead 
to  the  extensive  study  of  the  immortal  authors  of  Greece  and  Rome. — 
The  same  course  is  pursued  in  the  study  of  the  Mathematics.  Many 
branches,  too,  are  in  a  manner  pleasant  as  well  as  useful.  The  Profes- 
sor of  Geology,  in  addition  to  other  methods  of  teaching  the  science, 
accompanies  his  class  in  excursions  to  favorable  positions  for  examining 
the  structure  of  the  earth  and  the  various  phases  it  assumes.  Mineral- 
ogy and  Botany  are  taught  in  the  same  way,  so  that  while  recreation  is 
afforded,  the  mind  acquires  facts  and  is  prepared  to  carry  forward  its  in- 
vestigations ;  the  student  learns  not  merely  the  names  of  things,  but  he 
becomes  capable  of  distinguishing  them  ;  he  is  enabled  to  analyze  the 
plants  he  meets  in  his  walks,  and  in  his  travels  he  can  recognize  the  ge- 
ological feature.'!  of  the  country.  A  course  of  lectures  on  Anatomy  and 
Physiology  is  grven  to  the  mouc  advanced  cla.~;ses.    The  anatomical  pre- 


PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE.  263 

paralions,  natural  and  artificial,  in  the  possession  of  the  Lecturer,  ena- 
ble him  to  render  the  instruction  highly  valuable.  The  pupil  becomes 
acquainted  with  the  mechanism  and  functions  of  his  frame,  and  is  quali- 
fied to  follow  intelligently  the  reasonings  which  have  been  based  on  the 
structure  of  the  human  body  in  regard  to  the  existence  and  attributes  of 
a  Supreme  First  Cause.  The  introduction  of  the  study  of  Natural  His- 
tory into  the  course  is  perhaps  an  advantage  which  few  institutions  enjoy. 
The  Lecturer  on  Zoology  seeks  to  excite  an  interest  and  to  infuse  a  love 
among  the  students  for  this  attractive  branch  of  study.  That  the  eftbrt 
has  not  been  unsuccessful  is  shown  in  the  valuable  Museum  secured 
chiefly  through  the  industry  of  the  students,  and  the  flourishing  condi- 
tion of  the  Linnsean  Association,  the  fundamental  object  of  which  is  the 
cnltivation  of  an  acquaintance  with  animated  nature.  The  facilities  for 
the  acquisition  of  the  German  language  is  another  admirable  feature  in 
the  arrangements  of  this  institution.  Perhaps  there  is  no  College  in  the 
country  more  favorable  for  those  who  desire  to  unlock  the  treasures,  of 
which  this  noble  language  is  the  key.  The  study  is  carried  throughout 
the  course,  from  the  lowest  class  in  the  Preparatory  Department  to  the 
highest  in  the  College  proper.  Although  an  optional  study,  it  is  pur- 
sued by  a  large  number  of  students  with  great  spirit,  and  an  effort  is 
made  by  practical  exercises  to  prepare  the  young  men  to  converse  in  this 
copious  language.  As  Pennsylvania  College  was  organized  with  a  di- 
rect reference  to  the  wants  of  the  German  population,  its  claims,  there- 
fore, upon  Germans  are  strong.  There  were  many  and  excellent  Semi- 
naries of  learning  in  our  country  before  its  establishment,  but  there  was 
no  one  of  this  kind  to  which  Germans  and  descendants  of  Germans 
could  look  and  say  it  was  designed  for  their  special  benefit. 

The  government  of  the  students  is  parental,  mild  and  affectionate, 
but  firm  and  energetic.  Special  cases  excepted,  they  are  all  required  to 
lodge  in  the  College  edifice,  under  the  immediate  supervision  of  the 
Faculty,  who  endeavor  to  exercise  a  constant  guardianship  over  the 
whole  establishment.  The  Professors  consider  themselves  charged  with 
the  moral  and  religious  as  well  as  the  intellectual  culture  of  those  com- 
mitted to  their  care,  and  do  put  forth  faithful  efforts  for  their  best  inter- 
ests. Their  aim  is  to  fix  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  their  pupils  those 
great  and  controlling  truths  of  revelation,  which  influence  the  happiness 
and  shape  the  character  of  man  for  time  and  eternity.  A  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Scriptures  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Chris- 
tian system,  together  with  the  cultivation  of  the  moral  affections,  are 
deemed  an  important  part  of  a  liberal  education.  Lectures  on  the  evi- 
dences of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion,  and  on  the  Ethics  of  Christi-^^ 


264  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

anity  are  delivered  by  the  President.    The  stvidy  of  the  New  Testament 
in  the  original  Greek  forms  a  regular  part  of  the  course.     It  is  an  exe- 
getical  exercise,  designed  to  promote  an  acquaintance  not  merely  with 
the  peculiar  diction  of  the  New  Testament,  but  likewise  with  the  truths 
contained  in  it;  its  influence  cannot  but  be  favorable  to  enlightened 
views  of  Christianity  and  holy  living.     Prayers  are  attended  in  the  Col- 
leo-e  Chapel  every  morning  and  evening,  with  the  reading  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, one  of  the  Faculty  ofliciating.     The  students  are  all  required  to 
attend  worship  on  the  Sabbath  in  the  College  Church,  unless  parents  ex- 
pressly desire  that  they  should  attend  preaching  with  some  other  deno- 
mination in  the    place.     On  the  afternoon  of  the  Lord's  day,    they  also 
attend  a  Biblical  recitation  in  the  College  edifice,  conducted  by  one  of 
the  Professors.     Voluntary  meetings  for  prayer  and  praise  are  held  du- 
ring the  week,  which  furnish  an  additional  means  for  spiritual  improve- 
ment.    Pennsylvania  College  may  emphatically  be    called  a    Christian 
Institution.     A  considerable  number  of  the  students  are  pious,  and  from 
many  of  its  apartments  the  voice  of  prayer  ascends  daily  before  the 
mercy  seat.     Those,  who  enter  its  w<ills  without  a  knowledge  of  God, 
find  themselves  surrounded  by  disciples  of  Christ,  who  warn  and  in- 
struct them,  and  sometimes  not  in  vain.     Some  who  have  come  to  seek 
knowledge,  such  as  man  needs  in  this  life,  have  found  the  pearl  of  great 
price,  have  returned  to  tell  those  interested  in  their  welfare,  that  they 
have  found  a  hope  of  salvation  through  the  mercy  of  the  Saviour.     It 
is  true,  that  in  every  College  there  are  corrupt  young   rhen,   but  their 
power  must  be  gently  checked,  when  there  are  so  many  and  such  coun- 
ter influences  constantly  at  work.     If  an  individual  of  decidedly  vicious 
character  is  admitted  into  the  institution,  he  may,  without  much  diffi- 
culty, discover  means  of  indulging  his  inclination,  and  may  find  in  se- 
cret a  companion  or  two  of  kindred  spirit.     But  if  a  young  man  fre- 
quent this  seat  of  learning  for  the  purpose  of  improving  in  knowledge 
and  piety,  there  need  be  no  apprehension   entertained   that  he  will  be 
drawn  from  the    path  of  rectitude  and  virtue.     If  there    is  one  object 
nearer  the  hearts  of  those,  who  preside  over  its  interests  than  another,  it 
is  that  the  mind  here  educated  may  be  sanctified ;  that  it  may  catch  its 
inspirations  from  the  word  of  God  and  be  guided  by  its  life-giving  pre- 
cepts,    if  there  is  one  petition  presented  at  the  throne  of  Grace  with 
greater  fervor  than  another,  it  is  that  the  youth  here  gathered  may  be 
made  savingly  acquainted  with  the  Redeemer,  that  in  the   morning    of 
life,  they  may  gird  on  the  whole  armor    of  God,    and   consecrate  their 
powers,  their  faculties,  their  energies,  their  youthful  hearts,  to  the  service 
of  their  Maker. 


I'K^'XS  YL  V  A  MA    COLLKG  K . 

The  Annual  Commencement  of  Fciinsylvaiiia  College  will  occur  on 
Thursday  morinng,  16th  inst.,  in  Christ's  Church.  The  exercises  will 
commence  at  9  o'clock.  The  friends  of  the  Institution  and  tlic  public 
generally  arc  invited  to  attend. 

D.  GILBERT, 
Secy  of  the  Board,  of  Trustees. 


ALUM-XI  ASSOCIATION'. 

The  Annual  Address  before  the  Alumni  of  Pennsylvania  College 
will  be  delivered  in  the  College  Church  on  the  evening  preceding  the 
Annual  Commencement,  Wednesday^  Septemhcr  \-5th.,  at  7  o'clock,  by 
A.  R.  StevensoiV,  Esq.,  of  Gettysburg. 

jJ^The  members  of  the  Association  will  meet  for  the  transaction  of 
Inisiness  at  2  o'clock,  r.  3i.,  in  the  lower  story  of  the  Linniean  edifice. 
A  punctual  attendance  is  earnestly  desired. 

M.  L.  STOEYER,  Secretary. 


LITERARY    NOTICE. 

The  Annual  Address  before  the  Philomathncan  and  Phrenakosmian 
Societies  of  Pennsylvania  College  will  be  delivered  on  Wednesday^  the 
]5ih  of  September  next.,  at  3  o'clock,  p.  m.,  in  Christ's  Church,  Gettys- 
burg, by  RoBKjiT  Tyler,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia.  The  public  arc  re- 
spectfully invited  to  attend. 

Joint  Committee  of  the  Societies. 


linx.ean  hall. 
The  LinnaBan  Hall  of  Pennsylvauia  College  will  be  dedicated  on 
Tuesday  afternoon,  the  14//t  inst.,  at  4  o-clock,  and  an  address,  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion,  delivered  by  John  G.  JMonnis,  D.  D.,  President 
of  the  Association.  The  friends  oi"  science  and  the  public  generally  arc 
invited  to  attend. 

*    Committee  of  .irrangemciits. 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMI>rARY. 

The  Alumni  of  the  Theological  Seminary  will  celebrate  their  An- 
niversary on  Tuesday  evening,  14lh  inst.,  on  which  occasion  a  discourse 
will  be  delivered  by  Rev.  F.  W.  Conrad,  of  Hagcrstown,  Md. 

C.  A.  HAY.  Secretary. 


Iptimciijluauia  iile&ical  College, 

Filbert  above  Eleventh  vticct,  Phiiadelpliia. 


Medical  Fiirulty  at  riiiliiilclphiii. 

VViNi.  Darrach,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Tlieonj  and  Practice  of  Medicine. 
X  John  Wiltbank,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Ob$letrics  and  Diseases  of  vonien  and  children. 
'.  H.  S.  Patterson,  M.  D. —  Prof,  of  Maieria  Medica.' 

\Vm.  R.  G)iANT.  M.  D. — Prof,  of  ./hiatoviy  and  Pfit/iio!oi;ij. 
■  D.  Giluf.rt,  M.  D. — Prof,  of  Principles  andPr.acfice  of  Surgery. 
W.  L.  ATt.EE,  M.  D.— PVo/  of  Medical  C/icwish-y. 

Arch.  F.  McJntyre,  M.  D.^-Demonsiralor  of  Anatomy. 
The  Lectiujs  will    '•.>i"M,r.r,,v.   ,,!i   Momlay  Nov.  \?\   and   roiiliiuie 
:  until  i\Tarcli. 


licet  ipLa  during  Jlugusi 

\::  ..  ....  j Aicaly,  Canton  O 

Kev.  VV.  M.  Paxton,  Faiilkk),  Pa 
Dr.  J.  P.  FIeister,Ke;u!ii)g,  Pa. 
Dr.  E.  Bishop,  Smitlisburir,  M(l. 
Dr.  .lames  Wi'.liard,  .)efil^i\son,  Md. 
1\I.  Buchler,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
Female  Literary  So^  "'.  ' 

\Villiam  Bower, 
(jcorge  Wheeler, 
D.  Roop,  Smiths!):: 
Lewis  L.  Tritle,  Smilli.=bu,y;,  lUi. 
I].  K.  Gei-cr,  SprinivHeld,  O. 
John  lluntziiigei,  Poltsville,  Pa. 
John  E.  Coble,  Cumberland  Co.  Pa. 
Mi.ss  Sarah  Whitworth,  Balliraore.ftid 
IL  C.  Cline,  Cetlys!)l^■.^  P.i. 
.loiin  ^V.  Gardner, 


$1  00 

Vol 

.  .3. 

2  00 

u 

2  &  3. 

3  00 

a 

3,  4  &  y 

1  00 

<i 

3. 

1  00 

a 

3. 

2  00 

u 

3  &4. 

1  00 

u 

3. 

1  00 

,a 

3. 

1  00 

" 

3. 

1  00 

u 

3. 

2  00 

;( 

2  &  3. 

1  00 

u 

3. 

1  00 

kl. 

3. 

1  00 

u 

3. 

1  00 

u 

3. 

1  00 

ll. 

3. 

1  00 

I- 

o 

voi.iMi:  111. 


FnUMBEU  1:- 


TIIE 


LITERARY   RECORD   AND  JOURNAL 

©f  t\)(  iTiiiuiUrtii  iXssctciufuttx  of  |lfini9i)liiai«iix  dlollrgc. 
OCTOBER,   1847. 


COXPL'CTED 


CONTENTS. 
AURORA  BOREAT.IP,  -  -  -  -  . 

LANGUAGE  OF   PASSION',        -  -  -  - 

THIEOSOPilY  OF   STORMS,  -  -  -  - 

COAL  MIXING  AT  PITTSBURG,        -  -  - 

CHOOSING    A    SUBJECT,  .  _  -  - 

PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE, 

PLAGUES,  __---. 

COMMENCEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE, 


265 

272 
275 

279 
281 

283 

2S5 
2S7 


1 ',    sheet,  periodical— Postage,  2^  routs,  to  any  distance  witiiiii  the  Union. 
NEIXSTEDT,  PRINTER,  GETTYSBURG. 


'M 


THE  LITERARY 

OF  THE  LINN^AN  ASSOCIATIOX  OP  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Vol.  in.  OCTOBER,  1847.  No.  12. 


THE    AURORA    BOREALIS. 

III.  Its  altitude. 
Concerning  this  point  there  have  been  many  conflicting  opinions. — 
Some  have  placed  it  at  no  greater  elevation  than  that  of  the  oirrus-cloud) 
others  in  the  npper  strata  of  the  atmosphere,  and  others  without  its  lim- 
its, at  an  elevation  varying  from  60  to  200  and  even  several  thousand 
miles !  But  to  whatever  conclusion  we  may  come  in  reference  to  its  al- 
titude in  middle  and  low  latitudes,  it  is  generally  conceded  that  in  the 
polar  regions  it  is  comparatively  low,  and  that  it  gains  elevation  as  it 
progresses  toward  the  equator.  At  least  such  is  the  universal  opinion  of 
the  natives  of  those  regions,  which  are  its  birth-place,  and  with  this 
agree  nearly  all  the  navigators  and  men  of  science,  who  have  spent  sev- 
eral winters  there,  and  who  have  consequently  had  the  most  ample  op- 
portunities of  becoming  fully  acquainted  with  its  most  important  features. 
"Mr.  Trevelyan  observed,  that  in  the  Faroe  and  the  Shetland  Islands,  it 
was  often  seen  not  more  than  forty  or  fifty  feet  above  the  sea,  and  learn- 
ed that  in  both  countries  it  is  frequently  heard.  One  person  had  per- 
ceived in  it,  when  red,  an  electrical  smell."  (Sill.  Jour.  vol.  xxxv-151.) 
"Lieut.  Hood,  at  Fort  Enterprise,  found  the  aurora  in  one  instance  to  be 
only  2i  miles  high."  (Ibid  p.  155.)  And  Baron  Von  Wrangell  estimates 
it  to  be  so  low  in  the  polar  seas  of  Siberia,  as  to  be  influenced  by  the 
wind.  (See  WrangelPs  polar  expedition,  p.  302.)  That  it  should  have 
a  greater  elevation  in  low  latitudes  than  in  high  is,  upon  the  supposition 
that  it  is  within  our  atmosphere  at  least  near  the  pole,  perfectly  consist- 
ent with  the  law  of  bodies  moving  through  a  resisting  medium  of  varia- 
ble density;  the  motion  will  be  deflected  towards  the  point  of  least  re- 
sistance. This  takes  for  granted  that  it  consists  in  the  transfer  of  lumin- 
ous matter,  or  the  exertion  of  force  from  the  polar  towards  the  equato- 
rial regions.  The  various  estimates  of  its  altitude,  which  have  been 
made,  have  all  been  based  upon,  what  was  at  least,  an  imperfect  paialax 
34  /■*' 

m 


266  THE  ATIROUA  BOREALIS. 

of  some  portion  of  the  arch  or  corona,  and  upon  the  supposition  of  the 
altitude  and  place  being  unchangeable  for  a  very  appreciable  portion  of 
time.  Two  observers  are,  for  instance,  on  the  same  meridian,  and  at 
the  same  moment,  notice  the  distance  of  the  northern  or  southern  edge 
of  the  highest  part  of  the  arch,  from  some  particular  star.  The  difTer- 
ence  of  this  distance  in  degrees  is  the  paralax,  or  angle  which  is  sub- 
tended by  the  arc  of  the  meridian  comprehended  between  the  places  of 
the  observers.  This  being  known,  the  perpendicular  height  is  easily 
calculated  by  the  rules  of  Plane  Trigonometry.  If  now  the  correspond- 
ing observations  be  accurately  made,  and  at  the  same  instant  of  time, 
the  paralax  thus  deduced  must  give  the  correct  height.  But  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  no  paralax  hitherto  has  even  approximated  accuracy,  except  by 
accident.  It  is  amusing  to  read  the  accounts  of  the  manner  in  which, 
even  scientific  men  have  endeavored  to  persuade  themselves  that  they 
had  demonstrated  its  altitude  to  be  enormously  great ;  how  out  of  the 
notes  of  observers  stationed  at  the  same  place  they  rejected  all  which 
did  not  suit  them ;  and  how  they  here  allowed  |°  to  1°,  and  there  2°  or 
3°  of  probable  error,  and  then  announced  that  the  aurora  was  far  above 
the  limits  of  the  atmosphere.  Hence  for  the  same  arch  or  "auroral 
cloud,"  we  have  an  altitude  of  either  40  or  160  to  200  miles!  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  it  be  possible  to  obtain  any  thing  like  a  reliable 
paralax  of  so  changeable  a  body  as  is  an  auroral  streamer  or  arch,  unless 
it  be  very  low,  and  hence  the  estimates  of  its  altitude  in  high,  agree  far 
better  than  those  in  low  latitudes. 

It  is,  besides,  a  singular  fact  that  the  corona  is  always  in  or  near  the 
elevated  magnetic  pole  of  each  observer,  and  as  no  two  observers  can 
have  the  same  magnetic  pole,  this  changing  nearly  with  the  latitude, 
each  sees  a  separate  corona,  as  each  sees  a  separate  rainbow.  However 
similar  or  near  absolute  identity  the  coronas  of  two  observers  may  ap- 
pear, they  are  not  the  same,  and  so  it  may  also  be,  to  a  certain  extent, 
with  the  arches,  streamers,  and  other  parts  of  the  aurora.  Hence  it  may 
be  just  as  impossible  to  obtain  a  correct  paralax  of  a  corona  or  streamer, 
or  even  arch,  as  it  would  be  to  obtain  one  of  a  lunar  or  solar  halo. — 
The  corona,  at  least,  niust  be  an  optical  effect,  depending  upon  some  yet 
unknoicn  law  of  magnetism^  or  magnetic  condition  of  the  particles  of  the 
matter  of  the  aurora,  just  as  the  rainbow  and  halo  depend  upon  the 
well  known  laws  of  light.  All  conclusions,  therefore,  concerning  the 
great  altitude  of  the  aurora,  derived  from  a  supposed  paralax  must  a- 
mount  to  notlyng  more  than  approximate  guesses;  except  that  it  is  sat- 
isfactorily determined  that  in  middle  latitudes  it  is  considerably  above 
the  region  of  the  ordinary  clouds. 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS.  267 

IV.    lis  atmosj)heric  or  terrestrial  origin. 

A  number  of  circumstances  render  it  almost  certain,  not  only  that  it 
has  a  terrestrial  of  atmospheric  origin,  but  that  it  is  a  phenomenon  tak- 
ing place  in,  and  confined  to  the  atmosphere. 

I.  It  does  not  change  its  position  in  reference  to  the  revolving  earthj 
as  do  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  not  being  connected  with  it,  are  appa- 
rently carried  westward  by  its  eastward  revolution.  But  for  hours  to- 
gether, it  appears  to  occupy  the  same  place,  or  to  hold  the  same  position 
relative  to  the  observer.  It  must  consequently,  in  common  with  the  at- 
mosphere, have  the  same  eastward  motion  with  the  earth. 

2.  Numerous  observers,  whose  opinions  are  entitled  to  the  greatest 
confidence,  and  who  have  had  ample  opportunities  of  forming  a  correct 
estimate  of  its  height,  have  agreed  in  assigning  it,  in  the  polar  regions,  a 
place,  not  only  far  vi'ithin  the  limits  of  the  atmosphere,  but  only  a  short 
distance  from  the  surface  of  the  earth. 

3.  The  constant  j)osition  of  the  corona  in  the.  elevated  pole  of  the 
dipping  needle.,  and  the  near  parallelism  of  the  streamers  to  the  direc- 
tion of  its  di]}  show  that  the  aurora  has  a  most  intimate  relationship  to 
terrestrial  magnetism,  and  must  have  a  more  than  casual  connection  with 
the  earth. 

4.  It  is  commonly  asserted  by  the  natives  and  some  of  the  temporary 
residents  in  high  polar  regions,  where  the  aurora  displays  itself  on  the 
most  magnificent  scale,  and  where  its  rays  are  far  more  vivid  than  in 
southern  regions,  and  shoot  forward  with  lightning  velocity,  that  its 
most  ^active  state  is  accompanied  with  a  crackling  or  hissing  sound,  so  dis- 
tinct as  not  to  be  mistaken,  even  by  those  who  have  had  no  prejudices 
or  superstitious  fears  to  lead  them  to  believe  an  imaginary  to  be  a  real 
phenomenon.  "Persqns  engaged  in  the  whale  fisheries,"  "the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  Shetland  Islands,"  and  those  of  Siberia,  all  agree  in  making 
the  same  statements.  But  in  opposition  to  these,  are  placed  the  state- 
ments of  some  observers  who,  though  they  witnessed  many  polar  au- 
roras, yet  never  heard  any  sound.  But  this  can  prove  no  more  than 
that  sound  is  not  invariably  heard.  We  should  not  expect  the  noise  to 
be  audible  except  when  the  aurora  is  very  low,  and  acting  with  a  maxi- 
mum intensity.  Wrangell  testifies  that  during  "the  most  brilliant  auro- 
ras," he  "did  hear  a  slight  hissing  sound,  as  when  the  wind  blows  on  a 
flame."  But  in  order  to  be  heard  the  aurora  must  be  within  our  at- 
mosphere. 

5.  It  is  accompanied  by  cloud-like  matter,  which  has  all  the  ordi- 
nary external  properties  of  true  watery  vapor.  Wrangell  says  he  "often 
saw  on  the  nortlicrn  horizon,  below  the  auroral  light,  dark  blue  clouds, 


268  THE   AUROKA  BOREALIS. 

which  bear  a  great  resemblance  in  color  and  fo.rni  to  the  vapors  which 
usually  rise  from  a  sudiJen  break  in  the  ice  of  the  sea."  This  is  no 
doubt  the  dark  bank  of  vapor-like  matter  so  generally  seen  even  in  mid- 
dle latitudes.  M.  Lotten,  a  French  naval  officer,  and  member  of  a  sci- 
entific commission  sent  to  the  north  seas,  who  during  the  winter  of 
1838-9,  observed  upwards  of  one  hundred  auroras,  at  the  bay  of  Alten, 
observes  that  "a  light  sea-fog^  extending  to  the  altitude  of  from  four  to 
six  degrees,  became  colored  on  its  upper  border,  or  rather  was  fringed 
with  the  light  of  the  aurora,  which  was  then  behind  it;  this  border  be- 
came gradually  more  regular,  and  took  the  form  of  an  arc  of  a  pale  yel- 
low color. This  bow  swelled  upward  more  or  less  slowly,  its  vertex 

being  constantly  on  the  magnetic  meridian,  or  nearly  so."  His  de- 
scription of  the  bow,  shows  it  to  be  very  like  in  character  to  that  wit- 
nessed in  lower  latitudes,  with  its  "oblique  fleeces,"  or  "snow-drift" 
forms,  so  much  resembling  an  illuminated  cirrus-cloud,  but  to  which  so 
extravagant  a  height  has  been  assigned  by  some.  This  furnishes  a  strong 
presumption  in  favor  of  aqueous  vapor  forming  the  luminous  particles 
which  constitute  all  the  visible  parts  of  the  auroral  display. 

6.  It  is  influenced  by  local  circumstances.  Wrangell  says,  "Auroras 
are  more  frequent  and  brilliant  on  the  sea  coast  than  at  a  distance  from 
it,"  whilst  "latitude  does  not  otherwise  influence  them."  This  seems 
to  be  corroborated  by  the  statements  of  Capt.  Bonnycastle  concerning 
the  auroras  of  the  lakes.  It  shows  that  the  existence  of  vapor,  other 
things  being  the  same,  is  favorable  to  their  development. 

7.  It  is  affected  by  the  state  of  the  weather.  "The  finest  auroras," 
says  the  same  authority,  "always  appear  at  the  setting  in  of  strong  gales 
in  November  and  Jirtiuary ;  when  the  cold  is  intense  they  are  more 
rare." 

8.  And  finally,  that  the  aurora  "is  usually  nearer  the  surface  of  the 
earth,"  "than  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,"  "is  shown  by  the 
visible  injlucnce  of  the  lower  current  on  its  beams?''  "We  have  fre- 
quently seen  the  eflect  of  the  wind  which  is  blov/ing  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  on  the  streamers  as  distinctly  as  on  the  clouds." 

V.    Its  nature. 

Tiiat  this  is  a  most  difficult  point  to  determine  is  shown  by  the 
great  number  of  theories  which  have  been  offered  concerning  it. 

].  It  was  once  maintained  that  the  aurora  was  occasioned  by  "fiery 
and  sulphurous  vapors  exhaled  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  which, 
rising  into  the  region  of  the  air,"  there  became  phosphorescent,  or  were 
ignited.    Thitj  theory  has  nothing  in  the  discoveries  of  modern  science 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS.  269 

to  support  it,  but  on  the  contrary  almost  every  thing  to  show  its  im- 
probability. 

2.  Dr.  Halley  supposed  that  "there  is  a  constant  circulation  of  the 
magnetic  fluid  of  the  earth,  from  the  north  to  the  south  pole  through 
the  air ;  which  is  counterbalanced  by  a  circulation  from  the  south  to  the 
north  i)ole,  through  the  pores  of  the  earth.  The  magnetic  effluvia,  dart- 
ing upwards  from  the  north  pole  into  the  higher  regions  of  the  atmos- 
phere, acquire  such  an  impetus  as  to  render  the  circumambient  ether  lu- 
minous;" and  give  rise  to  the  phenomena  of  the  Aurora  Borealis.  But 
this  theory  is  contradicted  by  the  phenomena  of  the  Aurora  Australis,  in 
which  the  streamers,  instead  of  being  directed  towards  the  south  as  the 
theory  would  lequire,  move  from  the  south  towards  the  north. 

3.  M.  de  Mairan  "ascribed  this  phenomenon  to  the  impulse  of  the 
zodiacal  light  upon  the  earth's  atmosphere."  The  zodiacal  light  is  at- 
tributed to  the  atrnosphere  of  the  sun,  which  "extends  sometimes  as  far 
as  the  earth's  orbit.  When  the  earth  is  immersed  in  it,  a  quantity  of 
the  luminous  matter  falls,  by  the  force  of  gravity,  upon  the  earth's  at- 
mosphere, and,  by  the  centrifugal  force,  is  driven  from  the  equator  to- 
wards the  poles."  A  fatal  objection  to  this  theory  likewise  is  the  fact 
that  the  aurora  actually  moves  from  the  poles  tov/ards  the  equator. 

4.  Euler  ascribed  the  aurora  to  the  luminous  particles  of  our  own 
atmosphere,  driven  beyond  its  limits  by  the  light  of  the  sun,  sometimes 
ascending  to  the  height  of  several  thousand  miles!  The  objection  to 
this  theory  is  that  it  lacks  even  a  moderate  share  of  plausibility. 

5.  M.  Monge  maintained  that  the  phenomenon  consists  merely  iu 
clouds  illumined  by  solar  light  reflected  from  others  placed  at  diflerent 
distances  in  the  heavens.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  all  the  phenomena 
can  be  accounted  for  by  this  theory. 

6.  Captain  Ross  has  maintained  that  the  aurora  is  due  to  atmospheric 
vapors  illumined  by  light  reflected  from  fields  of  ice  in  high  latitudes, 
and  that  he  has  seen  auroras  between  two  separate  icebergs.  But  a 
fatal  objection  to  this  theory  is,  that  some  of  the  most  brilliant  auroras 
take  place  during  the  long  polar  winter,  in  the  total  absence  of  the  sun's 
light  from  those  regions  in  which  tliey  occur  in  their  greatest  splendor. 
Another  objection,  which  applies  with  equal  force  to  the  theory  of 
Monge,  is  the  fact,  determined  by  Brewster,  Biot,  and  our  own  country- 
man Henry,  that  the  light  of  the  aurora  is  not  reflected  but  direct  or  ori- 
ginal light.  "No  trace  of  polarization  can  be  discovered  in  it,"  which 
would  be  the  case  if  it  were  reflected  light. 

7.  M.  Blot's  theory  maintains  that  the  aurora  is  composed  of  real 
but  very  attenuated  vapor,  whose  particles  are  obedient  to  the  earth's 


370  THE  AURORA  BOREALiS. 

rnagnetisin.  This  vapor  must  consist  of  volatilized  iron  or  other  mag- 
iielic  metals,  ejected  from  polar  volcanos  and  forced  to  great  heights 
into  the  atmosphere,  vvhere,  forming  strata,  it  would  perform  the  othce 
of  electric  conductor.  If  the  metalic  particles  were  sufficiently  near 
each  other  or  the  cloud  sufficiently  dense,  the  electricity  would  flash 
along  without  producing  light-  but  if  the  cloud  were  very  rare,  the  elec- 
tric light  would  be  seen  between  them  and  so  produce  the  appearance 
of  luminous  lines,  and  the  particles  themselves  would  become  luminous. 
The  electricity  he  also  supposed  originated  from  the  polar  volcanos. 
But  to  this  theory  it  may  be  objected  that  we  know  of  no  such  polar 
volcanos  as  are  adequate  to  produce  the  effects  ascribed  to  them,  and 
the  volcanic  vapors  as  far  as  known  consist  principally  of  non  metalic 
gases,  and  comminuted  earthy  matters. 

S.  The  most  plausible  theory  yet  suggested  is  that  in  which  the  light 
is  referred  to  electricity,  and  the  aurora  is  regarded  as  an  electrical  dis- 
play. This  is,  indeed,  in  part  the  theory  of  Biot,  which  has,  in  some 
respects,  been  deemed  insufficient.  But  the  electrical  theory,  in. vari- 
ously modified  forms,  has  been  advocated  by  the  most  eminent  electri- 
cians of  the  past  and  present  centuries :  such  as  liawksbee,  Canton, 
Beccaria,  Franklin,  Faraday,  and  others. 

The  first  two  showed  that  the  principal  appearances  of  the  aurora  can 
be  exhibited  by  means  of  conimon  electricity — an  experiment  which  al- 
most every  lecturer  on  that  branch  of  science  now  performs  as  a  class 
illustration.  If,  for  example,  a  tube  of  any  convenient  length  and  diam- 
eter be  made  air-tight,  and  exhausted  by  means  of  an  air-pump,  it  will 
exhibit  flashes  of  light  diffiised  through  the  space  within  resembling  the 
auroral  streamers  and  waves,  if  either  end  be  held  in  the  hand  of  the  op- 
erator, and  the  other  be  presented  to  the  prime  conductor  of  an  electrical 
machine.'  As  each  successive  spark  passes  upon  the  cap  of  the  tube  a 
flash  passes  through  the  latter  to  the  other  end.  The  color  of  the  light 
will  be  influenced  by  the  extent  to  which  the  exhaustion  has  been  car- 
ried;  if  this  be  nearly  perfect,  the  light  will  be  white  :  but  if  only  par- 
tial, it  will  be  of  some  shade  of  blue,  purple  or  red.  Perhaps,  however, 
the  color  still  more  depends  upon  the  state  of  condensation  of  the  elec- 
tric light;  in  the  ordinary  atmospheric  flashes,  the  electric  matter,  in 
order  to  overcome  the  resistance,  must  pass  in  a  condensed  stream  and 
consequently  in  large  quantities, from  point  to  point,  and  is  then  white; 
.so  in  the  exhausted  tube  the  quantity  passing  in  a  given  time,  and  there- 
fore its  density,  may  be  greater  than  when  the  exhaustion  is  only  partial ; 
and  this  may  explain  the  greater  whiteness  of  the  aurora  near  the  hori- 


THE  AURORA  BOREAI-IS.  271 

zon ;  it  being  then  really  in  a  more  condensed  slate,  and  appairently  so' 
also  on  account  of  being  seen  obliquely  by  the  observer. 

It  has  already  been  stated  that  the  magnetic  needle  is  constantly  dis- 
turbed during  an  auroral  display,  and  that  too  in  proportion  to  its  ac- 
'tivity.  A  most  intimate  relationship  had,  long,  been  more  than  sus- 
pected as  existing  between  electricity  and  magnetism.  Electricity  was, 
for  instance,  known,  under  favoiable  circumstances,  to  communicate  and 
to  destroy  magnetism.  But  since  1820,  when  Prof.  Oersted  found  that 
an  electric  current  causes  the  magnetic  needle  to  deviate  from  its  posi- 
tion in  reference  to  the  meredian,  every  new  discovery  in  these  two  col- 
lateral branches  of  science,  has  only  shown  the  intimacy  to  be  the  more 
close,  until,  in  the  hands  of  Faraday,  the  proof  that  they  are  but  modi- 
fied phenomenon  of  one  great  material  agent,  and  that  they  are  perfectly 
reciprocal,  the  one  capable  of  producing  the  other,  has  become  complete. 
Now  repeated  observations,  made  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century,  all 
go  to  prove  that  the  needle  is  not  only  disturbed  during  the  display,  but 
especially  so  when  the  streamers  are  brilliant,  thus  showing  that  it  is 
affected  precisely  as  if  electricity  were  in  motion,  and  corresponding  in 
the  extent  of  its  disturbance  to  the  intensity  of  those  movements. — 
The  mean  disturbance  of  the  needle  being,  moreover,  eastward,  the  ef- 
fect is  the  same  as  if  electric  currents  moved  above  the  earth  from  the 
pole  towards  the  equator,  which  is  also  the  apparent  direction  of  the  au- 
roial  movements. 

Dr.  Dalton  has,  also  shown,  what  has  since  been  verified  in  innu- 
merable instances,  that,  not  only  are  the  coronas,  when  they  exist,  inva- 
riably found  to  occupy  the  place  in  the  heavens  to  which  the  elevated 
pole  of  the  dipping  needle  is  directed,  but  the  "luminous  arches"  are 
perpendicular  to  the  magnetic  meridian,  or  parallel  to  the  magnetic  equa- 
tor, which  makes  an  angle  of  about  12°  with  that  of  the  earth.  This 
remarkable  obedience  to  magnetic  forces  must  certainly  be  regarded  as 
something  more  than  accidental. 

9.  Regarding,  therefore,  the  aurora,  as  we  must,  as  an  electrical  dis- 
iplay,  it  is  yet  necessary  to  state  the  different  explanations  offered  by  dif- 
ferent philosophers  as  to  the  mode  in  which  the  free  electricity  is  supplied 
and  made  to  produce  the  visible  effects  of  the  aurora. 

Canton  supposed  that  the  electricity  flashed  from  positive  to  negative 
clouds;  but  then,  it  may  be  asked,  why  is  the  direction  of" the  auroral 
flashes  always  from  polar  towards  equatorial  parts,  unless  we  make  the 
bold  assumption  that  the  electrical  relations  of  clouds  depends  upon 
those  of  latitude?  And  vvhy  is  the  aurora  not  as  frequent  and  brilliant 
in  equatorial  as  in  polar  regions  ?     Beccaria  supposed  that  the  electric 


272  THE  LANGUAGE  OP  PASSIOV- 

circulation  was  from  .the  north  to  the  south  pole,  which,  however,  is  in- 
consistent with  the  direction  qf  the  Aurora  Australis. 

Again,  it  has  been  supposed  that,  by  thunder  showers,  in  tropical  and 
temperate  regions,  much  of  the  natural  electricity  of  the  air  is  withdrawn, 
and  that  the  deficiency  thus  created  is  supplied  by  the  passage,  through 
the  rarer  portions  of  the  atmosphere,  of  the  comparatively  redundant 
electricity  of  the  poles.  This  explanation  accommodates  itself,  at  least, 
to  appearances.  But  it  is  now  very  well  established  that  the  free  elec- 
tricity of  the  clouds,  is  nothing  more  than  that  which  was  held  in  an 
insulated  or  latent  state  in  the  vapor  before  condensation,  and  which  it 
carried  up  wilh  it  from  the  earth  during  evaporation.  And  further  it  is 
by  no  means  certain  that  there  is,  as  a  general  matter,  a  deficiency  of 
electricity  in  the  equatorial  atmosphere.  According  to  this  view,  how- 
ever, there  must  be  a  determination  of  the  electric  matter  from  the  equa- 
tor towards  the  poles  through  the  mass  of  the  earth,  and  a  reverse  course 
through  the  upper  air.  The  fact  of  such  circulation  is  more  than  pro- 
bable, but  the  cause  here  assigned  is  not  likely  the  true  one.  But  a 
cause  adequate  to  the  production  of  such  a  circulation,  and  in  accord- 
ance wilh  well  established  facts  has  been  suggested  by  Faraday.  He 
has  shown  that  the  unequal  exposure  of  the  earth's  surface  to  the  solar 
heat,  by  its  diurnal  revolution,  must  produce  free  electricity,  and  that 
this  must  press  towards  the  poles,  whence  there.  mus{  be  a  tendency  fiir 
it  to  pass  off.  This  tendency,  perhaps  always  nearly  constant,  being 
favored  by  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  would,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, give  rise  to  the  gorgeous  displays  of  the  aurora,  which  have 
excited  so  much  curiosity  and  interest  ;  and,  under  unfavorable  cir- 
cumstances, produce  a  circulation  so  feeble  as  not  to  be  appreciable 
either  by  the  visible  appearances  of  the  heavens  or  the  magnetic  needle. 
A  favorable  condition  of  the  atmosphere  may  be  found  in  the  existence 
of  more  than  an  ordinary  share  of  moisture  in  the  regions  above  those 
of  the  ordinary  clouds;  and  the  light,  as  seen  by  us,  may  be  that  of 
highly  electrified  vapor  moving  under  the  influence  of  electric  forces. 


THE  LANGUAGE  OF  PASSION. 

The  first  and  brightest  names,  that  have  been  engraven  on  the  ada- 
mantine pillar  of  Fame,  to  which  men  point  with  mingled  pride  and 
gratitude,  were  of  those,  who, 

•'With  a  master's  hand  and  prophet's  fire 

Struck  the  deep  sorrows  of  theii  lyre." 

Manlvind  were  thrilled  by  the  passing  witchery  of  this  divine  art  long 


THE  LANGUAfiE  OF  PASSIOX. 


2t3 


fere  Eloquence  had  ascended  her  proud  rostrum,  or  History  had  unrolled 
her  wondrous  scroll ;  before  the  Philosopher  had  penetrated  the  hidden 
arcana  of  nature,  or  the  Legislator  had  discussed  the  intricate  science  of 
government;  before  the  sleepless  eye  of  the  Astronomer  had  scanned 
the  circling  orbs  of  the  midnight  heavens,  or  the  Geographer,  \viih  aim 
less  elevated,  had  explored  and  described  his  ultima  Thule.  Tlie  voice 
of  blind  old  Homer  floated  over  the  plains  of  mighty  but  dormant  Greece 
like  a  spirit-song  from  a  brighter  sphere,  while  barbarism  yet  rioted  be- 
neath that  sunny  clime.  But  why  does  Poetry  thrive  in  such  early  and 
rude  ages,  the  antecedent  of  Prose  r  Simply  because  the  savage  is  the  slave 
of  momentary  impulse — he  is  the  child  of  feeling  ;  his  heart,  in  its  wild 
and  tumultuous  throbbings,  acknowledges  no  sovereign  but  his  ever  va- 
rying passions,  and  hence  his  Language  is  of  that  wild,  abrupt,  exclamatory, 
yet  highly  poetical  style,  which  passion  always  dictates.  But  it  is  not 
amid  the  murkiest  gloom  of  the  night  of  barbarism  that  Poetry  flour- 
ishes in  its  greatest  vigor.  It  is  in  the  period  immediately  succeeding, 
when  the  stars  are  waning  in  the  heavens  and  the  mist  of  night  is  slowly 
receding  from  the  earth,  when  the  footprints  of  rose-crowned  Aurora 
can  already  be  seen  in  the  blushing  hues  of  the  glowing  Orient,  that 
Poetry  breathes  her  choicest  strain.  This  is  the  auspicious  moment, 
when  the  mind  has  become  expanded  and  enriched,  the  imagination 
chastened  and  refined,  but  when  the  passions  are  tlniving  in  all  their 
native  and  unchecked  luxuriance,  for  the  production  of  model-poets.  Ac- 
cordingly we  find  that  the  most  glorious  poets  of  the  world  have  arisen 
in  .this  twilight  of  civilization.  This  was  true  of  Dante,  Boccaccio  and 
Petrarch  of  Italy,  Corneille  and  Racine  of  France,  Cervantes  of  Spain, 
Camoens  of  Portugal.  Spenser,  Shakespeare  and  Milton  were  the  morn- 
ing stars,  that  sang  together  in  prospect  of  the  glorious  day  that  was 
dawning  in  England.  Garrick  has  truly  said,  that  Shakespeare  dip'd  his 
pencil  in  his  own  heart.  Centuries  roll  after  centuries  like  the  never-ceas- 
ing waves  of  the  restless  deep,  each  effacing  every  vestige  of  its  prede- 
cessor— change  is  writing  its  stern  name  upon  every  part  of  the  crumb- 
ling world — poets  flourish,  like  ephemera^  for  a  day  and  are  engulpiied 
in  the  Lethean  waves  of  oblivion  ;  yet  Shakespeare  still  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  English  Poesy,  entwining  the  chaplet  of  triumph  in  immortal 
verdancy  around  his  brow.  Why  does  his  fame  encompass  the  earth 
and  defy  the  ravages  of  time  ?  It  is  because  he  faithfully  portrayed  the 
emotions  of  his  own  breast,  and  although  the  material  world  may  change, 
the  passions  of  mankind  are  similar  in  all  countries  and  all  ages. 

In  more  refined  ages  those  Poets,  who  have  made  their  names  as  fa- 
miliar with  us  as  "household  words,"  were  individuals  of  the  most  acute 
3o 


274  THE   LANGUAGE  OF  PASSION', 

sensibility.  The  productions  of  Byron,  with  more  than  a  mirror''s  truth, 
reflect  the  lineaments  of  the  man.  The  gloomy,  misantliropic,  mysteri- 
ous Manfred,  roaming  over  the  dizzy  heights  of  the  ice-mantled  moun- 
tain, where  the  startled  Chamois  hunter  feared  to  tread,  and  smiling  at 
the  terrors  of  the  thundering  avalanche,  or  the  desolate  Childe  Harold, 
standing  like  a  fiend  in  mockery  over  the  tombs  of  classic  Greece,  are 
but  transcripts  of  the  difTerenl  states  of  the  poet's  mind.  Love  was  the 
ruling  passion  of  Robert  Burns — Love  of  Home,  of  bonny  Scotland  and 
her  fair  lassies.  He  took  his  first  lessons  in  Love  and  Poetry  simulta- 
neously, and  his  Tutor  was  his  partner  in  the  harvest-field,  who,  in  his 
own  language,  was  a  "bonnie  sweet,  sousie  lass."'  It  was  while  listen- 
ing to  her  dulcet  voice  and  picking  out  the  cruel  thistles  from  her  small 
hands,  that  he  imbibed  that  "delicious  passion"  which  he  has  celebrated 
with  such  -charming  simplicity  and  sweetness. 

Then  may  we  not  conclude  that  the  Language  of  Passion  is  highly 
poetical 't  Grief,  Joy,  Revenge,  Pity  and  Love,  are  the  divinities  that  inspire 
the  poet's  song;  under  their  influence  he  strikes  his  sounding  lyre  and 
his  strain  flows  sad,  melancholy  and  pensive — wild,  joyous  and  glee- 
some — deep,  intense  and  absorbing — sweet,  soothing  and  entrancing — 
rich,  melodious,  and  fascinating,  according  to  the  passion  that  sways  his 
breast. 

The  language  of  Passion  is  also  highly  eloquent.  Look  at  the  ab- 
original tribes  of  America,  rude,  unpolisiied,  unlettered  savages  as  they 
are,  yet  when  their  passions  are  once  fully  excited,  their  eloquence  flows 
with  a  force  and  an  impetuosity  that  art  may  in  vain  attempt  to  rival. 
See  the  manly  form  of  the  chief  slowly  arise — a  mild  halo  of  dignity 
playing  gracefully  around  his  august  countenance — he  speaks — 

"With  voice  as  low,  as  gentle  and  caressing 
As  e'er  won  maiden's  lip  in  moonlit  bower." 

But  anon  !  and  the  scowl  is  gathering  on  his  swarthy  brow  !  darker  and 
still  darker  it  grows,  until  it  becomes  as  portentous  as  the  summer  storm- 
cloud  :  the  lightning  glances  of  his  fiery  eye  flash  with  electric  rapidity 
to  the  hearts  of  his  auditors  :  his  voice  swells  to  the  highest  pitch  of  its 
powerful  compass,  and  the  listening  hills  reverberate  his  thunder-tones 
of  indignation. 

As  a  striking  example  of  the  power  of  rude  but  impassionate  elo- 
quence, look  at  the  first  Crusade.  An  obscure,  monk  returning  from  a 
pilgrimage  to  our  Savior's  tomb,  conceives  the  grand  design  of  arming 
Europe  under  the  ensign  of  the  Cross  and  expelling  the  ferocious  Turk 
from  the  Holy  City.  What  a  chimerical  idea!  a  poor,  illiterate,  unknown 
bigot,  machinating  the  overthrow  of  those    armies,  whose    every  battle 


THE   LA.NGUAGL  OF  TASSIO^.  27-5 

was  a  victory.  But  look  !  from  one  kingdom  he  proceeds  to  ariolhery 
haranguing  tlie  crowds,  that  everywhere  attend  him,  with  all  the  earnest- 
ness of  an  inspired  prophet;  his  spirit  is  quickly  imparled  to  others, 
and  it  spreads  in  every  direction  like  a  fire  in  the  Prairies-.  Mail-clad 
kings,  war-worn  nobles,  chivalric  knights,  and  beauteous  damsels  attend 
his  preaching,  and  yet  stranger  to  relate,  ejnbrace  his  faith.  Be  unfurls 
his  banner  and  the  bands  are  formed  in  deep  and  terrible  array,  Here  is 
youth,  with  its  fair  and  dauntless  brow,  manhood  well-poised  in  its  con- 
firmed strength,  and  wrinkled  age  leaning  on  its  tottering  crutch.  The 
civilian  side  by  side  with  the  warrior,  the  libertine  with  the  patriot^, 
the  fearless  Scott  with  his  goodly  claymore,  the  adventurous  Saxon  with 
his  trusty  blade,  the  fair-haired  Gaul  with  his  well-tried  lance,  the  blue- 
eyed  German  with  his  puissant  pike — all  hurried  onward  by  the  wild 
enthusiasm  of  Peter  the  Hermit.  And  although  we  cannot  see  such 
striking  and  powerful  exhibitions  of  eloquence  in  ages  of  greater  refine- 
ment, yet  the  orator  of  the  heart  is  in  all  countries,  and  all  ages,  a  po- 
tent wizzard.  Look  at  the  Earl  of  Chatham  and  his  son  Wra.  Pitt,  Fox 
and  Erskine,  Grattan  and  Plunkett,  and  the  ferocious  Mirabeau  !  They 
established  their  high  reputation  as  orators,  not  by  the  deep,  learned  or 
chaste  disquisitions  of  the  closet,  but  by  the  overwhelming,  resistless, 
lava-like  torrents  of  fierce  declamation,  while  their  souls  were  on  fire 
with  the  subject,  and  every  nerve  strung  up  with  excitement.  And  why 
did  Edmund  Burke,  the  profound  scholar,  the  far-seeing  statesman,  and 
the  erudite  metaphysician  so  often  address  ''a  beggarly  account  of  empty 
boxes"  .•*  It  was  because  he  was  the  orator  of  the  head  ;  cool,  logical 
and  dispassionate,  he  could  pursue  a  long  and  connected  series  of  pure 
ratiocination  with  all  the  truth  of  a  mathematical  demonstration;  he 
could  delight  the  fancy  by  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  his  variegated 
flowers — he  was  an  original,  profound  and  transcendent  genius ;  but  he 
possessed  not  that  magic  power  by  which  the  true  orator  of  nature  can 
sweep  the  sympathetic  chords  of  the  human  heart  and  attune  it  in  pei- 
fect  unison  with  its  own  emotions.  Of  this  style  of  eloquence,  which 
is  doubtless  the  highest,  our  own  America  may  boast  some  bright  and 
shining  examples,  whose  names  are  their  own  sufficient  eulogy.  Hers 
is  an  Adams,  a  Rutledge,  an  Otis,  an  Ames,  and  greatest  of  all,  a  Henry  ; 
more  recently  others,  too,  whom  History  will  not  neglect. 

Such  is  the  power  of  Passion  over  Language.  It  does  not,  however 
slop  here  ;  but  ascending  the  heavens,  it  is  this  which  gives  the  softest 
and  most  ravishing  tones  to  the  Seraph  Hosannas,  as  hymned  around  the 
throne  of  the  Eternal,  and  which  joins  the  Archangel's  lofty  notes  of 
praise  in  subhme  concert  with  "the  music  of  the  lolling  spheres."' 


!76 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  STORMS.       NO.  VHI. 

BY  PROF.  W.  L.  ATLEE,  M.  D.,  PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 

Wlifiiiever,  therefore,  the  dew-point  is  very  little  below  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  air,  and  the  cloud  very  narrow  and  very  lofty,  and  reaches 
down  so  as  to  touch  the  earth,  the  storm  will  take  the  form  of  the  loatcr 
spout  if  at  sea,  and  the  tornado  if  on  land.  The  lower  part  of  the  cloud, 
or  that  which  forms  below  the  original  base,  in  consequence  of  the  levity 
of  the-  cloud  itself,  will  be  in  the  form  of  an  inverted  cone. 

The  length  of  this  inverted  cone  will  vary  with  the  difTerence  be- 
tween the  dew-point  and  the  temperature  of  the  air  within  the  ascending 
column  under  the  base  of  the  cloud.  For  example,  if  the  dew-point  be  5 
degrees  below  the  temperature  of  the  air,  the  inverted  cone  will  be  500 
yards  long ;  if  it  be  6  degrees,  it  will  be  600  yards  long  ;  and  thus  for 
every  additional  degree  of  diflerence  between  the  dew-point  and  temper- 
ature, the  cone  will  be  100  yards  longer. 

This  forming  of  the  cloud  lower  and  lower  in  the  up-moving  col- 
umn under  the  cloud  is  not  only  indicated  by  the  thermometer,  but  de- 
pends upon  the  same  circumstance,  which  causes  the  sinking  of  the  bar- 
ometer, and  corresponds  also  with  the  fluctuations  of  the  latter  instru- 
ment. For  every  fifth  of  an  inch  that  the  barometer  sinks,  the  cloud 
will  beo-in  to  form  about  100  yards  lower,  so  that,  if  the  barometer 
should  fall,  in  one  of  these  tornadoes,  two  inches,  the  air,  on  coming  in 
under  thq  cloud,  will  cool  by  diminished  pressure  about  10  degrees,  and 
the  inverted  cone  might  be  1000  yards  long,  and  would  then  reach  to 
the  earth,  if  the  dew-point  was  only  10  degrees  below  the  temperature 
of  the  air,  at  the  time  the  cloud  began  to  form. 

The  velocity  of  the  air  upwards  in  one  of  these  spouts  will  be  iu 
proportion  to  the  fcill  of  the  barometer  in  the  centre  of  the  column,  in- 
creased a  little  by  its  rise  in  the  annulus.  This  may  be  calculated  by 
an  observer  over  whom  the  middle  of  the  cloud  passes,  by  the  following 

formula  : Note  the  height  of  the  barometer  at  the  moment  of  the  calm 

which  precedes  the  storm,  and  also  at  the  moment  of  the  calm  in  the 
middle  of  tlie  storm;  take  the  difference  in  inches — 8  times  the  square 
root  of  900  times  this  difference  will  be  the  velocity  in  feet  per  second 
of  the  upward  motion  of  the  air  in  the  centre  of  the  storm.  For  ex- 
aniple  :  if  the  barometer  should  sink  one  inch  in  the  centre  of  a  storm, 
the  air  would  rush  upwards  with  a  velocity  due  to  a  head  of  pressure 
equal  to  one  inch  of  mercury.  This  is  equal  in  weight  to  about  900 
feet  of  air  of  mean  density  at  the  earth's  surface.  On  the  supposition 
of  its  having  this  density,  the  pressure  would  of  course  be  this  much 
less  in  the  inbidc  than  the  outside  of  the  column.     Now,  if  we  subject 


PHILOSOPIIV  Ol'   STORMS.  277 

this  to  the  laws  of  spouthig  fluids,  and  take  the  square  root  of  tliis  num- 
ber, which  would  be  30,  and  multiply  it  by  8,  we  will  have  the  velocity 
upwards  in  the  centre  of  the  storm  of  240  feet  per  second,  and  so  in 
proportion  to  the  fall  of  the  barometer,  A  column  of  mercury  one  inch 
square  and  30  inches  high,  the  average  height  of  the  mercury  in  the  bar- 
ometer at  the  level  of  the  sea,  being  equal  in  weight  to  15  lbs.,  one  inch 
of  mercury  will  be  equal  to  k  lb.  weight,  aud  the  barometer  being  one 
inch  lower  under  the  cloud,  the  upward  pressure  of  the  air  must  be  equal 
to  half  a  pound  upon  every  square  inch  of  surface. 

With  this  immense  velocity  and  this  great  upward  pressure  it  will 
be  readily  understood  why,  in  the  progress  of  such  a  storm,  bottles  ex- 
plode their  corks,  and  cellar-floors,  roofs  of  houses,  trees,  &c.,  are  thrown 
up  as  the  tornado  passes  over  them,  taking  oft'  the  pressure  of  the  air 
above,  while  the  rapid  expansion  of  the  air  below  and  within  explodes 
them. 

The  diameter  of  these  storms  at  the  surface  of  the  earth  does  not 
generally  exceed  two  or  three  hundred  yards;  and  as  the  annulus  all 
around  the  tornado  extends  about  as  far  beyond  the  borders  of  the  storm 
as  the  borders  are  distant  from  its  centre,  there  will  be  a  calm,  not  only 
in  the  centre,  but  also  all  around  the  meteor,  only  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  from  its  borders.  And  beyond  this  annulus,  in  consequence  of  its 
greater  pressure,  the  wind  will  blow  gently  outwards. 

As  the  tornado-cloud  rises  very  high  at  its  top,  its  upper  part  will  be 
in  the  upper  current  of  the  air,  and  as  this  gives  direction  to  the  storm, 
the  course  of  the  latter  will  be  governed  by  the  motion  of  this  current. 
It  is  known  that  this  current  observes  the  same  direction  in  the  same  lat- 
itude, but  varying  with  the  latitude,  the  course  of  these  storms  must  ne- 
cessarily vary  with  their  geographical  position. 

The  variation  in  the  direction  of  this  upper  current  depends  upon 
several  circumstances,  viz : — 1 .  When  the  air  at  the  equator  rises  ten 
miles  from  the  surface  of  the  earth,  as  Mr.  Esi)y  remarks,  it  will,  on  the 
principle  of  the  conservation  of  areas,  be  1-400  further  from  the  centre, 
and  of  course  it  will  [\ill  back  towards  the  west  by  more  than  1-400  of 
the  equatorial  velocity  of  the  earth,  eastwardly  by  its  diurnal  motion,  or 
about  25  miles  per  hour,  besides  the  motion,  which  it  may  have  had  to- 
wards the  west  at  the  earth's  surface.  The  upper  current,  therefore,  near 
the  equator,  will  be  found  to  move  from  the  east  to  the  west. — 2.  The 
meantemperature  of  the  air  in  the  torrid  zone  is  about  SO  degrees  greater 
than  in  the  frigid  zones,  and  as  the  mean  temperature  of  the  air  in  the 
frigid  zones  is  about  zero,  the  air,  according  to  Mr.  Espy,  is,  in  conse- 
quence of  expansion  by  heat,  80-118  of  its  whole  height  higher  at  the 


278  rHii.osoPiiv  OF  storms. 

equator  ihan  at  the  j^oles.  The  greater  quantity  of  vapor,  loo,  iti  the 
equatorial  air,  will  cause  it  to  staud  about  1-90  higher  ihan  the  polar  air, 
and,  from  these  united  causes,  if  the  polar  atmosphere  be  forty  miles 
high,  the  equatorial  will  be  about  forty-eight  miles. — 3.  Herschel  says, 
that  since  the  earth  revolves  about  an  axis  passing  through  the  poles, 
the  equatorial  portion  of  its  surface  has  the  greatest  velocity  of  rotation 
and  all  other  parts  less  in  the  proportion  of  the  radii  of  the  circles  of 
latitude  to  which  they  correspond.  The  healed  equatorial  air,  while  it 
rises  and  flows  over  towards  the  poles,  carries  with  it  the  rotatory  velo- 
city due  to  its  equatorial  situation  in  a  higher  latitude,  where  the  earth's 
surface  has  less  motion.  Hence,  as  it  travels  northward  or  southward, 
it  will  gain  continually  more  and  more  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  its 
diurnal  motion,  and  assume  constantly  more  and  more  a  icesterly  rela- 
tive direction,  until,  as  the  atmospheric  elevation  and  rotatory  velocity 
diminish  towards  the  poles,  the  air,  as  it  rolls  oflf  down  the  inclined 
plane  of  the  surface  of  the  atmosphere  towards  the  north,  will  be  con- 
stantly passing  over  portions  of  the  earth's  surface  which  have  a  less 
diurnal  velocity  than  the  part  from  which  it  set  out,  and,  as  from  the  na- 
ture of  inertia  it  still  inclines  to  retain  the  diurnal  velocity  towards  the 
east,  which  it  originally  possessed,  it  will  veer  gradually  round,  and 
when  it  reaches  the  latitude  of  about  20  or  25  degrees,  it  will  then  pro- 
bably be  moving  nearly  towards  the  north,  and  beyond  that  latitude  its 
motion  will  be  north-eastwardly  5  while  the  air  towards-lhe  south  will 
first  veer  round  towards  the  south,  and  then  south-easlwardly.  This  will 
be  rendered  plain  to  any  person  who  will  take  up  the  terrestrial  globe 
and  examine  the  operation  of  these  two  forces,  bearing  in  mind  at  the 
same  time  that  the  surface  of  the  earth  at  the  ecjuator  moves  at  the  rate 
of  1000  miles  in  an  hour,  while  at  60  degrees  of  latitude  it  revolves  only 
at  the  rate  of  500  miles  in  the  same  lime. 

That  such  is  ihe  necessary  operation  of  these  causes  is  satisfactorily 
proved  by  the  cirrus-cloud,  which  forms  at  great  elevations,  and  always 
indicates  the  course  of  the  upper  current. 

]n  our  latitude  this  cloud  always  comes  from  the  west,  or  rather  a  lit- 
tle south  of  west;  in  the  torrid  zone  it  comes  from  the  east;  in  north 
latitude  25  degrees  it  comes  from  the  south;  and  in  the  same  latitude 
south  it  comes  from  the  north.  A  tornado,  therefore,  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  probably  throughout  the  northern  and  southern  temperate  zones,  be- 
ing guided  by  this  upper  current,  in  which  the  cirrus-cloud  appears,  will 
move  towards  the  east,  or  to  a  point  a  little  north  of  east;  in  the  torrid 
regions  it  will  move  towards  the  west;  and  in  intermediate  latitudes  it 
will  move  towards  the  north  and  south  respectively.     Indeed,  they  will 


COAL  MINING. 


279 


always  move  in  these  directions,  unless  they  meet  with  a  middle  stratum 
of  air  moving  in  a  different  direction.  It,  therefore,  becomes  a  matter 
of  much  greater  consequence  to  meteorology  than  would  at  first  view 
appear,  that  the  direction  and  velocity  of  these  uppermost  currents  in 
the  atmosphere  should  be  accurately  ascertained. 


COAL    MINING   AT   PITTSBURG. 

BY    GEO.    W.    FAHNESTOCK. 

The  great  coal  basin  of  the  west,  in  which  Pittsburg  lies  near  the 
northern  out-crop,  differs  essentially  from  almost  every  other  known. 
The  regulatity  of  its  strata,  the  vastness  of  the  bituminous  deposits, 
and  the  facility  with  which  their  treasures  are  brought  forth,  from 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  have  long  been  familiar  in  Geology.  Every  stu- 
dent of  that  science  is  aware  of  the  similarity  existing  between  the  coal 
measures  of  the  old  world,  while  the  important  features,  which  distin- 
guish an  Appalachian  coal  field,  are  comparatively  unknown.  I  do  not 
design,  however,  entering  into  more  of  its  peculiarities  than  such  as  may 
be  elucidated  in  a  loose  sketch  of  the  manner  in  which  it  is  excavated 
by  the  miners.  Unlike  the  English  collieries,  or  those  of  Eastern  Penn- 
sylvania, we  never  descend  by  a  shaft  for  coal,  although  there  are  four 
or  five  strata  of  from  eighteen  inches  to  six  feet  in  thickness  below  the 
level  of  the  rivers.  The  lowest  of  these,  as  nearly  as  I  remember,  is 
about  three  hundred  feet  below  the  river  and  was  discovered  while  boring 
for  salt  water. 

The  vein  usually  worked,  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  city,  lies  about 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  and  is  only  mined  from  the  sides  of 
hills  where  the  stratum  is  exposed.  The  miner  digs  into  the  coal  and 
examines  its  quality,  whether  it  is  hard,  black,  and  shining,  or  soft,  fria- 
ble, and  coated  with  a  brown  oxide  of  iron  ;  and  if  the  test  proves  it  to 
be  desirable  coal,  he  prepares  for  an  excavation.  This  stratum  is  about 
six  feet  in  thickness,  and  the  floor  is  formed  of  pyritous  shale,  several 
inches  thick,  under  which  a  thickness  of  from  nine  inches  to  a  foot  of 
good  coal  is  found.  This  is  never  worked,  owing  to  the  cheapness  and 
abundance  of  the  material.  As  they  dig  into  the  hill  they  confine  them- 
selves to  a  passage  about  six  feet  in  width,  planting  strong  posts  oppo- 
site each  other  every  few  feet,  which  support  heavy  timbers  intended  to 
prevent  the  roof  from  caving  in.  These  are  always  used,  no  matter  how 
far  the  miner  goes,  and  if  he  ventures  too  far  without  a  prop,  he  may  for- 
feit his  life  for  his  temerity,  as  the  roof  sometimes  falls  in  a  mass  of 
many  tons  weight,  and  without  a  moment's  warning  crushes  all  beneath. 
An  experienced  miner  by  striking  his  pick  against  the  roof,  is  enabled  to 


280  COAL    MJMNtt. 

judge  of  its  solidity,  for  if  it  gives  forth  a  dull  or  hollow  sound,  there  ii* 
reason  to  believe  that  a  strong  prop  is  necessary. 

They  diverge  from  the  entry  in  different  directions,  and  take  out  tlie 
coal  from  spaces  twenty  or  thirty  feet  square  :  these  they  call  rooms. 
Pillars  or  masses  of  coal,  about  forty  feet  in  diameter,  are  left  between 
the  rooms  to  sustain  the  superincumbent  rock.  Their  implements  are 
few  and  stmple.  A  light  pick,  sharp  at  both  ends,  with  a  handle  three 
feet  long,  tliree  or  four  iron  wedges,  a  sledge-hammer,  and  tools  for 
blasting,  are  all  they  require.  The  riiiner  when  going  to  work'  is  denu- 
ded of  everything  but  pantaloons  and  cap,  and  is  so  blackened  by  the 
coal,  and  so  effectually  disguised  as  to  be  recognized  with  some  diffi- 
culty. Thus  appareled  and  armed  with  his  pick-axe,  he  presents  a  wild 
and  grotesque  appearance  as  he  moves  stooping  through  the  mine,  his 
candle  fastened  to  the  front  of  his  cap  by  a  ball  of  plastic  clay,  and  his 
hoide  of  fierce  dogs  surounding  him.  He  selects  a  spot  and  commences 
a  vertical  excavation  from  the  roof  to  the  floor  about  a  foot  in  width, 
digging  in  as  far  as  his  arm  and  tlie  handle  of  the  pick  will  allow.  He 
then  lies  down  upon  his  side  and  digs  in  a  similar  manner  along  the 
floor  for  a  length  of  six  or  seven  feet,  and  as  far  into  the  coal  as  he  can. 
He  now  drives  a  wedge  into  the  face  of  the  coal  about  six  feet  from  the 
vertical  digging,  and  about  midway  between  the  roof  and  floor,  when 
the  wliole  mass  detaches  itself,  and  falls  to  the  floor  with  a  deafening 
sound.  It  breaks  into  large  cubes  which  he  reduces  with  his  sledge  in- 
to pieces  suitable  for  domestic  purposes.  He  then  fills  his  little  wagon 
containing  ten  bushels,  and  harnessing  his  dogs,  assists  them  in  drawing 
it  to  the  mouth  of  the  mine.  He  adjusts  a  strap  across  his  breast,  and 
side  by  side  they  tug  until  they  reach  the  entrance.  J41  the  principal 
mines  the  use  of  mules  and  ponies  is  fast  doing  away  with  this,  the 
most  laborious  feature  in  the  miners'  life. 

A  stranger,  coming  suddenly  upon  half  a  dozen  of  these  grim  look- 
ing men  at  work  in  a  room,  is  half  inclined  to  fly,  as  their  wild  and  al- 
most fearful  appearance  is  very  striking,  and  well  calculated  to  terrify 
the  inexperienced.  The  strokes  of  their  picks  resounding  through  the 
vaulted  mine  can  always  be  heard  at  the  entrance,  however  distant  the 
Avorkmen  may  be,  and  the  falling  of  the  mass  of  coal  sounds  like  deep 
and  distant  thunder. 

Our  miners  are  generally  Welchmen,  enjoy  robust  health  in  the 
mines,  which  are  of  equal  temperature  summer  and  winter,  and  they 
make  good  and  peaceable  citizens. 

Pdisburg,  Pa. 


2SI 

CnOORINC    A,  SUBJECT. 

Mr.  Editor  :  What  a  strange  thing  is  this  human  mind  !  How  il 
annihilates  time  and  space  in  its  movements,  brings  the  Past  into  the 
Present,  and  springs  from  continent  to  continent,  and  from  world  to 
world  with  inconceivable  rapidity !  Here,  for  instance,  have  J,  in  the 
solitude  of  my  study,  sat  down  to  comply  with  the  request  of  my  wor- 
thy friend,  who  would  have  me  honored  with  an  appearance  in  the  Jour- 
nal ;  and  lo !  in  an  instant,  when  i  would  seek  a  subject  on  which  to 
exercise  my  pen,  instead  of  finding  such  a  subject,  and  holding  it  fast 
before  me,  this  wild  mind  of  mine  is  off  in  every  direction — now  in  the 
halls  and  groves  of  my  Alma  Mater  ;  now  listening  to  the  roar  of  great 
Niagara ;  now  peering  with  telescopic  vision  at  the  mountains  in  the 
moon;  now  skimming  across  the  ocean-wave  and  standing  on  the  walls 
of  ruined  Jerusalem ;  now  here,  now  there;  in  a, moment,  '■'■quick  as 
Lhought.^''  running  through  a  countless  variety  of  scenes  and  subjects — 
History,  Poetry,  Rhetoric,  Eloquence,  Mathematics.  Geography,  Astro- 
nomy, creeping  things  and  quadrupeds — and  yet  I  have  no  subject  for 
an  article.  Now  is  not  this  vexatious  ?  So  much  to  write  about,  and 
yet  nothing  on  which  to  M'rite  !  ''Why,  I  am  sure,  there  are  subjects 
enough."     Subjects  !  oh,  yes  ;  they  are  plenty — 

"Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  that  strew  the  brooks 
In  Vallambrosa,  where  the  Etrurian  shades, 
High  overarched,  embower — " 

that  is  just  the  trouble.  ''My  dear,"  says  the  parson  to  his  good  wife, 
"I  wish  that  you  would  give  me  a  text  for  a  sermon  ;  for  really,  I  hardly 
know  what  to  preach  about."  "Why,  my  love,  how  can  you  be  at  a 
loss  for  a  text  when  you  have  the  Bible  before  you  ?"  What  a  precious 
helpmate ! 

The  truth  is,  this  choice  of  a  subject  is  no  small  matter.  I  know  it 
used  lo  be  very  troublesome  in  my  school-time,  when  comjjosition-da-if 
came  around.  And  so  it  was  in  College.  I  once  had  an  oration  to  write 
for  a  public  occasion — it  was  to  be  a  great  epoch  in  our  student-life. — 
The  fair,  and  gay,  and  loving,  the  learned,  and  acute,  and  critical,  were 
to  be  present.  Our  venerable  President,  and  dignified  Professors,  were 
to  listen  to  us ;  and  we  were  all  expected  to  do  our  best.  For  would 
not  the  reputation,  almost  the  continuation  of  the  College,  be  that  day 
in  our  hands  ? — were  not  we  to  be  its  representatives  in  the  public  eye — 
samples  of  its  workmanship,  and  ergo,  arbiters  of  its  destinies  .?  That 
day,  the  last  of  College  Life  !  Well,  such  a  time  as  I  had  to  find  a  sub- 
ject! How  many  hours  and  days  were  spent  in  the  search!  What  a 
consultation  of  records  !  What  an  examination  of  the  schedules  of  Col- 
36 


282  CHOOSING    A    bUBJECT. 

lege  Commencements  for  long  past  years  !  Now  one  and  now  another 
theme  was  adopted  and  rejected,  this  one  approved  and  then  disapproved, 
until  at  last  one  was  fixed  upon — and  the  oration  was  commenced.  Oli, 
what  a  burden  fell  from  my  shoulders  when  ihe  first  sentence  was 
written  ! 

Often  it  is  harder  to  select  a  subject  than  to  write  upon  it  when  cho- 
sen. But  it  is  not  always  so.  Some  subjects  strike  one  as  very  fine, 
but  when  we  would  write  upon  them,  we  find  we  can  do  little  or  no- 
thing with  them.  I  once  thought  that  I  had  a  magnificent  subject  for  a 
composition — The  Philosophy  of  Circumstances  ;  and  I  sat  down  to 
write  upon  it.  I  went  so  far  as  to  quote  from  Horace  :  "Et  mihi  res, 
non  me  rebus,  subjungere  conor" — and  there  1  stopped.  You  may  per- 
haps suppose  that  the  fault  was  not  in  the  subject.  Be  it  so.  Some 
men  do  choose  subjects  beyond  their  strength  :  and  they  and  their  little 
ideas  are  lost  in  the  grandeur  of  the  theme,  which  they  are  attempting 
to  handle.  College  platforms  on  Commencement  days,  and  other  great 
occasions,  have  given  evidence  of  this.  On  the  other  hand,  great  minds 
can  often  invest  little,  or  trite  and  seemingly  uninteresting  themes  with 
charms  of  irresistible  attraction.  And  some  minds  are  capable  of  rising 
to  their  themes,  and  with  them.  We  are  occasionally  astonished  to  see 
how  a  great  subject  will  bear  aloft  the  mind,  and  give  sublimity  and  elo- 
quence to  the  thoughts  and  expressions  of  one,  whom  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  regard  as  destined  only  for  humble  things. 

You  will  find  it  written  somewhere — "Dimidium  habet  qui  bene 
coepit."  This  is  true  even  when  applied  to  the  choice  of  a  subject.  He 
lias  made  a  good  beginning,  who  has  selected  a  good  theme.  And  then, 
if  he  has  successfully  accomplished  a  few  introductory  sentences,  his 
way  is  clear.  Let  him  go  onward  fearlessly  and  triumphantly.  Here  wc 
may  apply  the  French  proverb  :  "C'est  le  premier  pas  qui  coute."  But 
this  is  not  always  so.  Sometimes  the  struggle  must  be  kept  up  to  the 
end.  It  is  wise  to  select  a  subject  which  we  feel  that  we  are  capable  of 
handling  with  some  degree  of  justice.  But  if  we  always  attempt  easy 
things  we  shall  never  accomplish  great  things.  We  must  occasionally 
plume  our  wings  for  a  higher  flight.  It  is  pleasant  and  easy  walking  on 
this  smooth  plain — but  look  yonder  at  that  mountain  with  its  lofty  peak 
and  rugged  sides  I  There  is  some  exertion  necessary  to  ascend,  but 
there  is  excitement  in  the  effort,  and  a  bracing  of  energies,  and  when 
you  are  up  there,  what  a  glorious  view !  And  how  proudly  and  joy- 
ously your  lungs  play  with  the  elastic  air.  Suppose  that  we  have  un- 
dertaken a  subject,  which  seems  too  great  for  our  powers.  Let  us  not 
be  inuiiediatcly  discouraged,  nor  lay  it  aside  for  a  more  genial  moment 


PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE.  283 

1  once  watched  with  a  great  deal  of  interest  a  water  snake  iu  the  act  of 
swallowing  a  fall-iish.  His  subject  appeared  too  large  for  him,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  fish  must  certainly  escape.  But  the  snake  was  stead- 
fast and  determined.  He  held  on  to  his  subject.  The  process  was  a 
slow  one  \  but  after  watching  for  some  time  I  left  his  snakeship  evi- 
dently congratulating  himself  upon  the  certainty  of  mastering  his  theme, 
the  fish  having  already  half  way  entered  his  extended  jaws.  The  moral 
■which  1  gather  is  :  Hold  fast  to  your  subject — struggle  hard  and  be  suc- 
cessful. 

But  the  hardest  of  all  things  is  to  write  without  a  subject;  and  1  do 
not  see  that  I  am  likely  to  find  one.  But  I  will  continue  the  search,  and 
.should  1  have  success,  you  shall  hear'  from  me.  At  present  you  must 
"take  the  will  for  the  deed,"  and  believe  me. 

Yours,  &c.,  VoLo. 


PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE.      NO.  III. 

Having  furnished  our  readers  with  a  sketch  of  the  origin  and  progress  of 
Penn.  College,  and  presented  its  claims  upon  the  confidence  and  patronage 
of  the  public,  we  propose  now  to  inquire  how  far  the  object  contemplated 
by  the  benevolent  founders  of  the  Institution  has  been  accomplished,  how 
far  the  expectations,  originally  cherished,  have  been  realized.  Have  the 
wishes  of  those,  who  commenced  the  enterprize  and  labored  from  the 
beginning  for  its  advancement,  through  difiiculties  and  discouragements, 
been  attained  .'  We  reply,  there  is  no  reason  for  dissatisfaction.  The 
little  acorn,  that  was  planted  a  few  years  ago,  is  spreading  its  umbrageous 
branches  far  and  wide,  under  wliich  many  find  refreshing  shelter.  Fruit.s 
have  already  accompanied  the  eflbrt,  such  as  to  gratify  the  most  san- 
guine expectations  of  its  friends.  Pennsylvania  College  does  occupy  an 
honorable  position  among  the  literary  institutions  of  the  land,  and  has 
secured  the  favor  of  an  intelligent  community.  From  this  fountain 
streams  have  been  sent  to  gladden  the  city  of  our  God.  Although  in 
existence  not  a  score  of  years,  upwards  of  one  thousand  have  enjoyed 
the  advantages  of  instruction  here  given,  who  are  distributed  through 
the  country,  enjoying  public  confidence,  occupying  posts  of  honor  and 
usefulness  and  discharging  the  responsible  duties  of  society.  In  almost 
every  state  of  the  Union,  and  even  in  distant  climes,  its  representatives 
are  to  be  found,  making  an  impression  upon  the  community  and  exert 
ing  an  influence  for  good.  Of  those,  who  have  entered  upon  the  duties; 
of  active  life,  all,  wc  believe,  aic  answering  the  wishes  of  friends  and 


2S4  PENN'SYI.VAXIA    COUS.C.T.. 

tulfilljng  the  expectations  of  their  ./Ihna  Mrtler.  No  one  has  fallen  by 
the  way,  forfeited  tlie  trust  resposed  in  him,  or  shown  himself  unworthy 
of  his  literary  parent.  From  tliis  source  the  legal  and  medical  profes- 
sions have  received  accessions  of  strength,  usefulness  and  honor.  At 
the  bar  of  justice,  pleading  for  injured  innocence  and  invoking  the  pen- 
alty of  the  law  upon  the  offender,  her  sons  are  to  be  found.  At  the 
sick  bed,  exposed  to  disease  and  surrounded  by  death,  the  ministers  of 
the  healing  art  may  be  found,  whose  first  lessons  were  received  in  Penn- 
sylvania College.  But  the  primary  object  with  those  who  originated  the 
enterprize  was  to  bring  cultivated  intellect  into  the  service  of  the  Church, 
to  furnish  facilities,  by  which  men  might  be  thoroughly  educated  and 
fitted  for  the  ministry  of  reconciliation,  [t  was  hoped  that  the  mind, 
here  educated,  might  be  sanctified,  that  the  benign  influences  of  leligion 
might  be  infused  into  the  science  and  literature  communicated  within 
these  Halls — that  here  many  men  might  be  qualified  to  go  forth  as  heralds 
of  the  cross,  and  use  their  influence  to  rescue  other  souls  from  ruin,  to 
awaken  new  notes  in  praise  of  the  Redeemer,  to  people  new  mansions 
in  heaven. 

But  in  order  that  we  may  ascertain  what  proportion  of  the  young  men 
here  educated  have  been  induced  to  devote  their  energies  to  the  Church, 
let  us,  as  a  criterion,  refer  to  the  graduating  classes,  saying  nothing  of 
the  many  who,  having  pursued  a  partial  course  in  the  College,  are  now 
faithfully  laboring  as  watchmen  in  the  vineyard  of  their  Lord.  The  first 
class,  three  in  number,  was  graduated  in  1834  \  of  this  number  one  is  in  the 
the  ministry.  In  1835  out  of  a  class  of  eight,  four  are  in  the  ministry.  In 
1837  there  were  four  graduates,  tvvo  are  in  the  ministry.  In  1838  there 
were  six  graduates,  of  these  four  were  for  the  ministry.  In  1839  there 
Avere  fourteen  graduates,  all  prepared  themselves  for  the  ministry  except 
two.  In  1840  there  were  six  graduates,  three  devoted  themselves  to  the 
ministry.  In  1841  there  were  eleven  graduates,  all  are  in  the  ministry,  ex- 
cept one.  In  1842  there  were  thirteen  graduates,  all  of  whom  are  in  the 
ministry  except  one.  In  1843  there  were  eleven  graduates,  of  this  number 
seven  are  in  the  ministry.  In  1844  twelve  were  graduated,  of  these  eight 
are  designed  for  the  ministry.  In  1845  there  were  four  graduates,  of 
these  two  will  probably  enter  the  ministry.  In  1846  there  were  fourteen 
graduates,  of  these  seven  have  the  ministry  in  view.  In  1847  the  gradua- 
ting class  consisted  of  seventeen,  ten  will  probably  consecrate  them- 
selves to  the  work  of  the  ministry.  Here,  then,  are  07ie  hundred  and 
twenly-iJiree  graduates,  eighty-two  of  whom  are  either  in  the  ministry  or 
preparing  for  it.  With  these  facts  before  them,  may  not  the  friends  of 
Pennsylvania  College  be  encouraged,  andask  without  fear,  where  is  there 


pi.AOUEs.  285 


another  Seminary  of  learning,  that,  in  proportion  to  the  number  educated, 
has  sent  forth  so  many  ambassadors  of  the  Most  High?  Has  not  the 
Institution  already  contributed  to  impart  an  impulse,  which  may  yet  move 
millions  of  hearts  towards  God  r 


PLAGUES.      NO.   II. 

The  occurrence  of  what  has  been  termed  "bloody  rain,"  "showers 
of  blood,"  &c.,  has  been  recorded  by  a  number  of  historians  and  is  inci- 
dental to  great  elemental  commotions  in  nearly  every  age  of  history.  Al- 
lowing much  for  the  influence  of  superstition  and  terrified  imagination 
in  observing  and  recording  such  events  in  the  earlier  histories,  there  is 
still  much,  that  challenges  the  careful  observation  of  those  who  live  in 
this  day  of  "enlarged  opportunities  and  increased  light."  A  few  allu- 
sions shall  suflice. 

In  the  year  1693  of  the  Christian  era,  history  informs  us  that  nearly 
cotemporaneous  with  a  violent  earthquake  in  Sicily  and  Naples,  while 
a  malignant  plague  was  ravaging  the  people,  a  fountain  sent  forth  its 
streams  "as  red  as  blood."  In  the  year  225  B.  C.  the  Roman  army,  then 
marching  into  Gaul,  was  infected  with  a  deadly  plague  and  a  river 
in  Picenum  was  so  changed  in  the  colour  of  its  water  that  it  pre- 
sented every  appearance  of  blood.  These  are  confessedly  rare  pheno- 
mena, and  to  this  day  the  learned  are  not  unanimous  in  their  philosophi- 
cal explanations  of  the  circumstance.  The  most  plausible,  perhaps,  as- 
cribe them  to  subterraneous  combustion  attended  by  peculiar  electric 
states  of  the  atmosphere.  Showers  of  blood  are  more  frequently  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  highly  distempered  states  of  the  seasons. — 
Livy  bears  decided  testimony  to  the  fact,  that  at  particular  times  "it  rained 
blood,"  and  Homer  speaks  confidently  of  showers  of  blood,  which  fell 
before  his  time,  and  also  of  a  similar  occurrence,  that  happened  in  his 
own  day.  It  is  said  too  that  during  the  reign  of  Octavius,  Egypt  was 
visited  with  a  shower  of  blood.  The  historian  of  England  also  fur- 
nishes accounts  of  these  bloody  rains  in  the  fifth  century  and  also  in 
the  sixteenth,  which  the  credulous  and  superstitious  afterwards  interpreted 
as  the  harbinger  of  the  death  of  the  two  Dukes  of  Brunswick.  Whilst 
the  profligate  Nero  swayed  the  empire  of  Rome,  showers  of  blood  are 
said  to  have  fallen  in  such  copious  streams  as  to  tinge  the  water  of  rivers 
■with  a  crimson  hue.  It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  explain  this  phenomenon. 
From  observing  the  coincidence  of  bloody  rain  with  the  existence  of 
plague  in  some  form  or  other,  it  was  soon  regarded  as  prognostic  of 
some  dire  visitation  from  heaven,  and  the  affrighted  beholders  were  awed 
37 


286  IT.AGVES. 

• 

into  silent  wonder  not  daring  to  investigate  the  causation  of  these  Divine 
interpositions  nor  to  enquire  into  their  probable  production  on  natural 
principles.  Blood  spots,  as  they  are  termed,  have  frequently  been  seen 
in  the  Summer  season  on  the  leaves  of  plants  and  on  stones,  and  are 
now,  perhaps,  correctly  ascribed  to  a  species  of  butterfly,  which,  it  is 
known,  immediately  after  quitting  the  chrysalis  state,  emits  drops  of 
blood-red  fluid,  and  when  multitudes  of  the  insect  move  together  they 
deposit  this  fluid  in  sufficient  quantity  to  spot  the  herbage  and  the  soil. 
But  the  fact  of  rivers  being  colored  militates  against  the  agency  of  these 
insects  as  being  sufficient  to  the  production  of  such  extensive  efliects. 
It  is  to  be  regretted,  that  the  more  ancient  histories  of  blood-rain  contain 
so  few  of  the  attending  aerial  appearances  as  to  leave  much  to  conjec- 
ture, which,  if  known,  would  contribute  to  a  correct  explanation  of  the 
event.  Our  own  country  in  January  1741,  furnished  one  instance  in 
New  England,  of  lain  which,  as  it  fell,  presented  the  appearance  of  blood 
descending  from  the  sky.  There  was  on  this  night  an  appearance  as 
though  the  heavens  were  on  fire,  the  brightness  of  which  illuminated 
the  earth  so  as  to  render  objects  clearly  visible,  and  it  was  during  the 
continuance  of  this  unusual  illumination,  that  the  drops  of  a  shower  pre- 
sented the  peculiar  hue  of  blood.  It  is  said  that  the  people  who  beheld 
it  superstitiously  regarded  it  as  the  fervent  heat  with  which  the  elements 
are  to  be  melted  before  "the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord,"  and 
viewed  it  as  the  harbinger  of  the  end  of  time.  This  occurred  at  a  time 
when  a  malignant  disease  was  prevailing  in  Philadelphia  and  Virginia. 

We  do  not  design  to  prosecute  a  comparison  between  these  appeai'- 
ances  and  "the  plague  of  blood"  in  Exodus,  but  as  they  are  curious 
they  were  thought  to  be  interesting.  The  death  of  different  species  of 
fish,  and  the  corruption  of  water  are  such  frequent  attendants  upon  great 
plagues  as  to  receive  particular  notice  by  all  careful  historians,  especially 
of  the  later  centuries.  Diemerbroek,  in  the  17th  century,  who  philan- 
thropically  bestowed  medical  attention  upon  multitudes,  who  were  ill 
with  a  plague  then  raging,  and  who  afterwards  wrote  a  history  of  the 
distemper,  speaks  pointedly  on  this  matter  and  also  of  the  unusual  ten- 
dency to  putrefaction  in  fish,  flesh,  and  even  vegetables  during  the  pre- 
valence of  pestilence.  Aristotle  (De  animalibus,)  refers  to  the  same  fact, 
but  mentions  that  no  one  pestilence  appears  to  affect  all  kinds  of  fish.  It  is 
deserving  of  mention,  too,  that  nearly  at  the  same  time  that  the  yellow 
fever  was  prevalent  in  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  and  some  of  the  seaports 
of  Virginia,  in  1797,  multitudes  of  dead  fish  were  seen  floating  down 
James  river  in  that  state.  Instances  of  the  kind  might,  with  a  little  re- 
search, be  greatly  multiplied.     The  fact  of  deterioration  in  the  healthful 


COMMENCEMENT  OK   PE.NMSVLVAMA  COLLEGE,  287 

qualities  of  water  during  pestilential  periods  is  well  attested.  In  the 
plague  known  as  '"the  black  death,"  which,  in  the  fourteenth  century 
deprived  Europe  of  twenty-five  millions  of  inhabitants,  the  water  in 
many  places  in  Switzerland,  Germany,  France,  and  other  European  coun- 
tries, became  so  contaminated  as  to  render  their  use  highl^y  destructive. 
At  this  period,  v/hen  the  human  mind,  appalled  at  the  scenes  of  death, 
which  thickened  in  the  land,  was  unable  to  form  a  deliberate  judgment, 
and  suspicions  of  a  fearful  kind  biassed  the  intellect  in  the  investigation 
of  supposititious  proofs,  tens  of  thousands  of  harmless  Jews  were  sac- 
rificed to  the  fury  of  the  populace  on  the  charge  of  having  poisoned  the 
wells  and  fountains.  In  1795  the  same  condition  of  the  water  in  New 
Haven,  (Connecticut,)  gave  rise  to  the  suspicion  of  the  wells  being  poi- 
soned at  the  time  of  the  prevalence  of  a  destructive  epidemic.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  extreme  insalubrity  of  the  water,  which  attended  this  epi- 
demic in  New  Haven,  the  immense  number  of  animalcules  generated  in 
it  afforded  incontestable  evidence  that  the  pestilential  principle  which, 
diffused  through  the  air,  had  so  sorely  afflicted  mankind,  had  penetrated 
the  water,  deteriorated  its  healthful  properties  and  brought  inlo  play  new 
and  unwonted  phenomena.  Thus  it  was  in  the  great  plague,  that  devas- 
tated Athens,  when  the  corruption  of  the  water,  alleged  to  have  been 
poisoned  by  the  Lacedemonian?,  was  supposed  to  have  given  origin  to 
the  pestilence. 

It  has  thus  far  escaped,  and  perhaps  always  will  elude  the  research 
of  mortals  to  discover,  in  what  this  perva'ling  principle  essentially  con- 
sists. The  death  of  every  species  of  animated  nature,  when  a  very  mor- 
tal epidemic  is  raging,  shows  a  universal  diffusion  of  the  deleterious 
principle,  but  what  that  principle  is,  which  can  reach  the  bottom  of  seas 
and  destroy  at  those  almost  unfathomable  depths  with  the  same  power 
that  lays  waste  man  in  habitations  on  the  land  will  perhaps  be  known 
only  to  Ilira  whose  "-thoughts  are  are  not  as  our  thoughts." 


COMMENCEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  COLLEGE. 

Commencement-week  was  an  attractive  and  interesting  season.  The 
attendance  of  visitors,  who  assembled  to  enjoy  the  literary  festivities, 
was  unusually  large  and  the  services  apparently  afforded  general  gratili- 
cation. 

The  exercises,  preparatory  to  Commencement,  were  opened  on  the 
Sabbath  evening  preceding,  with  the  Baccalaureate  bv  the  President  of 
the  Institution,  it  was  an  impressive  discourse,  founded  on  Acts  xi,  24. 
He  was  a  good  man,  iii  which  the  young  men  about  to  leave  the  Institu- 
tion were  urged  to  aim  at  the  cultivation  and  exhibition  of  true  moral 
•".'.vccllence,  uad  lu  gain  the  reputation  of  being    good  nieu. 


288  COMMEXttMEXT. 

On  Tuesday  afternoon  the  beautiful  Hall  of  the  Linnaean  Association 
was  dedicated  and  an  address  delivered  by  Rev. Dr.  Morris,  of  Baltimore, 
Md.  It  was  an  appropriate  and  excellent  discourse,  illustrated  in  the 
most  pleasing  and  forcible  manner,  and  fully  sustaining  the  reputation 
of  the  author. 

On  Tuesday  evening,  the  annual  exercises,  connected  with  the 
"School  of  the  Prophets"  of  this  place,  were  held.  Able  addresses  on 
the  Iteformalion  of  Italy,  and  the  Obligations  of  science  to  religion  were 
delivered  by  William  Gerhart,  A.  M.  and  B.  M.  ScJimucker,  Ji.  M.  rep- 
resentatives of  the  class,  that  has  just  completed  the  course  in  tiiis  de- 
partment of  sacred  learning.  The  services  of  the  evening  were  con- 
cluded with  an  interesting  and  instructive  discourse  to  the  Alumni  of 
the  Seminary  by  Rev.  F.  tV.  Conrad,  of  Hagei'stown,  Md.  on  Ministerial 
improvement  in  preaching. 

On  Wednesday  afternoon,  the  annual  oration  before  the  Literary  So- 
cieties of-the  College  was  pronounced  by  RoheH  Tyler,  Esq.,  of  Philadel- 
phia, on  the  Rise,  progress  and  influence  of  Commerce.  It  was  an  able 
and  carefully  elaborated  production,  evincing  much  research  and  abound- 
ing in  a  wide  range  of  illustration.  Its  delivery  elicited  general  and  un- 
qualified admiration. 

Wednesday  evening  was  occupied  with  the  anniversary  exercises  of 
the  Alumrrt  of  the  College.  The  annual  address  was  delivered  by  Jl. 
R.  Stevenson,  Esq.  of  Gettysburg,  a  member  of  the  graduating  class  of 
1835.  The  theme  selected  for  the  occasion,  was  the  Responsibilities  and 
duties  of  educated  men,  and  although  its  discussion  was  protracted,  the 
speaker  was  listened  to  with  marked  attention  until  the  last.  The  sen- 
timents of  the  address  were  excellent  and  worthy  the  consideration  of 
those  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

Thursday  was  devoted  to  the  exercises  of  the  graduating  class.  At 
9  o'clock  the  piocession  formed  on  the  College  Campus  and  moved 
to  the  Church,  where  the  exercises  took  place  in  the  following  order  : 

Prayer  by  Rev.  J.  Heck,  of  Waynesboro',  Pa.  "Latin  Salutatory'" — Wm.  H. 
Witherovv,  Gettysburs;,  Pa.  "Providence  in  the  History  of  Nations'" — J.  K.  Plitt, 
Philadelphia,  Pa.  "Quisque  sua  fortuti<e  faber'" — John  A.  Bradshawe,  Lexinsjton, 
N.  C.  "2'Ae  Burning  of  Moscow  " — Wm.  H.  Morri^,*  Baltimore,  Md.  "Greek 
Om/io?i"— F.  W.  Brauns,  Baltimore,  Md.  "The  Spanish  Character"— L.  E.  A\- 
bei't,  Hanover,  Pa.  "Jncient  Oracles" — D.  J.  Eyler,  Waynesboro',  Pa.  "The 
Dignity  of  Labor" — J.  H.  Heck,  Chanibersbui-s;,  Pa.  "Geologi/"—R.  A.  Fink, 
Middletown,  Md.  "Benedict  ./Irnold" — E.  G.  Fahnestock,  Getfysburt;^,  Pa.  "Free 
Jgency  of  Man" — P.  Sheeder,  Chester  co.  Pa.  "The  Scandijiavians"— M.  Bach- 
tel,*  iSmithbura:,  Md.  "The  Fall  of  Palmyra"— M.  \V.  Merry  man,*  Baltimore 
CO.  Md.  "Thomas  Chalmers"— P.  Kaby,  Marion,  Pa.  "The  Mariner's  Compass" 
— H.  Jacobs,  Waynesboio',  Pa.  "Retrospect  of  a  Century"— M.  'Posey.  Juniata 
CO.  Pa.  Conferring  of  Be^rees—By  President'  Kranth.  Jim  of  the  Student  and 
Valedictory— By   A.  Essick,  Franklin  co.  Pa.     Benediction. 

The  productions  of  iheyoung  gentlemen  were  well  written  and  gen- 
erally well  delivered,  reflecting  honor  upon  themselves  and  credit  upon 
the  College. 

The  degree  of  A.  P>.  was  conferred  on  the  above  gentlemen  and  H. 
R.  Gciger,  of  Springfield,  O.  The  degree  of  A.  M.  in  course  was  con- 
ferred on  Rev.  P.  Anstadt,  O.  F.  Baugher,  Esq.,  J.  B.  Bittinger,  R.  G.  H. 
Clarkson,  J.  P.  Clarkson,  Rev.  T.  W.  Corbet,  Rev.  M.  Diehl,  H.  J.  Fah- 
ncstock,  J.  M.  Macfarland,  J.  T.  Morris,  Rev.  G.  A.  Nixdorf,  and  B.  M. 
Schmurker.     No  honoraiy  degrees  were  bestowed. 


INDEX  TO  VOL.  III. 


Advent,  the  World  at  the  -  -  -  -       196, 217 

Age  of  Pericles,  the  -  -  -  -  54,  97,  133 

Anniversaries  of  tlie  Literary  Societies,       -             -             -  120 

Appointments,  Naval                 -----  191 

Arch,  Auroral        ------  188 

Astronomical  discoveries,         -----  33 

Aurora  Borealis,  -----       241, 2oo 

Bethune's  Dr.  Oration,            -             -             -             -             -  44 

Bible  Society,        -             -             -             -             -             -  167 

Bucket,  the  old           -             -             -  '           -             -             -  42 

Caloric,  latent       -              -              -              -              -              -  129 

Capleivei  of  Plautus,                _             -             -             -             -  93 

Casks  of  Heidelberg,         -----  157 

Choosing  a  subject,    -             -             -             -             -             -  281 

Classics,  Greek  and  Roman             •             -             -             -  216 

Coal  mining  at  Pittsburg,         -----  279 

College,  Pennsylvania       -  -  -  -    24,  145, 261,  283 

"        Pennsylvania  Medical             -             -             -             -  143 

Commencement  week,       -  '          -            -             -             -  287 

Consonants,  the  doubling        -----  225 

Contest,  Literary                 -             -             -             -       "      -  168 

Conversions,  the  twin              -----  138 

Discoveries,  Astronomical               _             _             -             -  33 

"             great        ------  190 

Dream,  the  Shepherd  boy's             -             -             -             -  HO 

Eloquence,  advantages  of  rules  on       -             -             -             -  58 

Epistles  to  students,  -  -  -  14,  60,  86,  139,  232 

Etymology,                   ------  12 

Examination  in  Penn.  College,  Programme  of         -             -  94 

Explosion,  an  electrical            _              _              .              -              -  247 

Femoratum,  spectrum         -----  39 

Flattery,         -             -             -             -             -             -             -  191 

Fragment,  a  literary            -----  144 

Fulton,  Robert            ------  112 

Garden  of  plants  at  Paris,               -             -             -             -  226 

German  Philosophy,  -----     2o,  76 

Germans,  earlv  literature  of  the     -             -             -             -  6 

Glaciers,         - -  202 

Heidelberg,  monster  casks  of          -             -             -             -  157 

Hvdropalhv,                -             -             -             -             r             -  256 

Iildians,  "Black  Feet,"      .            -            -            -            -  175 


290  INDEX. 

Language  of  Passion,  -  -  _  _  _         272 

''        unwritten  -  _  -  -  -  IQ 

Latin-English,  --__._         IQQ 

Leaves,  loose,  from  my  sketch-book,  18,  36,  49,  73,  100,  126,  172 

Lecture  on  truth,         -  -  ,  _  _  _         259 

Lights,  experiments  on      -  -  -  -  -  67 

Literature  early  of  the  Germans,  -  -  -  -  6 

Little  things,  influence  of  _  .  _  _  22 

Meteor,  the  of  1846,  _  .  -  _  .  23 

Museum,  British  -  -  -  .  -  -  126 

Naturalist,  the  eccentric  _  _  _  _  _ 

Nepos,  Arnold's  _____  105 

Nevin's  Baccalaureate  Address,  -  -  -  -  70 

Nutrition,  .--...  149 

Obituary,        -  -  -  -  -  -  -     95,  96 

Operations,  Linna;an  _____  141 

Oysters,  .,_.-_-         210 

Painting,  light,      -_._-_  29 

Philosophy,  German  .  _  _  .  .     25,  76 

«       '   of  storms,       _  -  _  1,  52,  193, 229,  276 

Plagues,  -.-__-  235,285 

Planets,  undiscovered         _____  131 

Preparations,  new  explosive    -----  23 

Readers,  to  the  _____  24,  48 

Reading,  on 10,  40,  83,  103 

Recollections,  College        -  _  «  _  _  253 

Record,  College, 120,  167,  192 

Recreations,  Natural  History  _  -  _  _         80,  169 

Regimen  Sanitatis  Salernitanum  _  _  _  -         177 

Reminiscences,  College      -----       ]85,  212 

Richter,  from  tlie  Gernran  of  -  -  -  -  16,  92,  111 

Rossia,  Phasma,  .  -  ,  .  -  9 

Sonnet,  ..-.---         248 

South  Sea  Islands,  voyage  to  -  -  -      8S,  113,  121,  160- 

Stalure,  the  downward  tendency  of  human       -  -  -         237 

Storms,  Philosophy  of      -  -  -  1,  52,  193,  229,  276 

Student  life  in  Germany,  -  -  "  -        61,  108,  20^ 

Sun,  central,  of  the  Universe,  ....  4g 

Temperance  Society,  College  -  -  "  -         292 

Truth,  extracts  from  a  lecture  on    "  -  -  -  259 

Violet,  the       -------         248 

Visit  to  a  prince  who  was  not  at  home,      -  '  -  73 

Westminster  Abbey,    ------         249 

World,  literary       -----'  166 

Wold  at  the  Advent,  -  .  .  .  196,  217 

AVyoming,  massacre  of      -  -    .        -  "  ^  70 


Rceciiils  daruiii  Scplcinbcr 

UfV.  E.  Sclivvait/,  Maiicliuslcr,  Mil. 

"     VVm.  F.  Eyster,  Gennaiitown,  Pa. 

•'     A.  J.  Kail),  Canton,  Oliio, 

•'     Geo.  Dielil,  Easlon,  Pa. 

•'     C.  Culler,  Funkstowii,  Mci. 

*=     D.  H.  Biltle,  JVaiddletown,  Md. 

"     John  E.  Graeff,  Washington,  D.  C. 

•'     C.  W.  Schaerter,  Hairisburg,  Pa. 
Charles  W.  Knnkej,  Middletovvn,  Pa. 
S.  and  J.  Grosclose,  Snjylh  Co.  Va. 
Jjcvi  C.  Grosclose,  " 

Samuel  Etnire,  Leitersbuii;',  Md, 
E.  K.  Smith,  Camden,  N.  J. 
S.  Sheimer,  Esij.  Easton,  Pa. 
C.  A.  Brougher,  Augusta  Co.  Va. 
Levi  Miley.  Cumberland  Co.  Pa. 
Samuel  Fisher,  Gettysburg,  Pa. 
J.  K.  Miller, 
Wm.  J.  Leib,  " 

John  VVelHy, 
John  E.  Smith,  " 

PhrenaUosmian  Societv,     •' 


$2  (M»  Vol 

.  ;J,  I 

1  0(1 

.•} 

1  00 

'i 

1  00 

H 

1  00 

3 

1  00 

3 

2  00 

li,   I 

I  00 

tl 

2  00 

2,3 

1  0!) 

:j 

2  00 

.-},  -I 

i  00 

3 

1  00 

.i 

1  00 

I 

1  00 

3 

1  (M) 

3 

1  01) 

;; 

1  (10 

,{ 

1  00 

3 

1  00 

3 

1  00 

3 

1  00 

3 

Donations  to  Cabinet. 

i.  From  Dr.  Morns,  a  box  containing  biids. 

2-  "     R.  (t.  H.  Cliirk>iuii,  an  impression  of  the  seal  of  St.  James'  College. 

:i.  ••     iJ.  f'.  £«•«//,  specimens  of  bugs,  bultei  Hies,  ik,c. 

).  •'     licv.  Dai-ii  Gohccn,  Lebanon,  111,  per  iJr.  liilbcrlbox  of  sliells,. 


Donation  to  CibraiMj. 

Proceeding;  of  tiie  Academy  of  .Vaturul  Scienc.'!;-.  lur  April  ;uni  !VJ;iy.     From 
'Jie  .\eademv. 


IJcnn^nlDania  (HoUegc,  ©cttncibuvg,  |Ja, 

FACUJ.TY    .\^-  n    IXBTrj-CTORg. 

('.  P.  KRvrTH,  r>.  D.^Prcddenl  un-1  Prof.  Nat.  and  Tier.  Rcl,  Llhia^.  ^-c. 
1x0 V.  H.  L.  Baughkr,  A.m. — -Prof. t-t  Greek Lunicuuge,  Rheloyic  mnl.  Oratory. 
Rev.  M.  Jacobs,  A.  M. — Prof,  of  M.  flicmalicx.  C/wmidri/  aiul  Mrdmnirdl  PMlos, 

■  Rev.  W.  M.  RF.v.voi.ns,  A  M.—  Prof.  of  Lai i a.  Mental  Philosophy  'u,d  Loiric. 

:  M.  L.Stokvf.k.  A.  M. — Prof  of  Hi'ili^.-;;  and  Principal  of  Prepam top;  T^--"'1-:  ■rtl . 
;  Rev.  C.  A.  H.w.  A.M. — Prof,  of  Gry,rnm  Language  and  Literature. 
:  H.  H.vpPT,  A.  M.      i'rof.  of  Md'tliema.iics,  Draieing  and.  French.     ' 

■  Davtb  Gir.riF.RT,  A  .M.  M.  D. — Lecinrer  on  .inaionvj  and  Phtjsiology. 
•  JoH>r  G.  Morris,  1\  D  — Lecturer  on  /.oolos;>j. 

:  A..  E.ssicK,  A.  B. —  Tutor. 
J.  K.  Pi.iTT,  A.  B.—  Tniar. 

'•        Pennsyh  ania  Coilege  has  now  h  ■cr'- ■■hartered  ahonJ  sixteen  years.    Duriji":  thi.« 

■  tiiriB  its  |)rou:ress  has  been  snch  as  to  ■;;-a<ify  the  most  sanicijine  exjieptatioris  of  it." 
:  friend?.  The  Trustees  have  much  pfi''oUra<rempnt  to  liope  for  its  co'ntinuctt  pros- 
;  perity  anrl  to  expect  fiitiire  favor.  T^'e  pio.xiinity  of  Gettysbora:  to  Baltitnore  and 
^  Fhiladelnhia,  the  healthiness  of  the  pi"';-,  the  morality  of  its  inhabitants,  tiie  cliea])- 

ness  of  living  recommend  the  Colii'ff:  to  the  patronasije  of  parents.  The  course 
:  of  studies  is  as  extensive  and  snbstant'-.i  as  that  of  anv  institution  in  the  country. 
The  Prepanlton/  Department  proviitP"-  (or  instruction  in  all  the  branches  of  a  fhor- 
:  ouii'h  Ensflish,  business  education,  in  fsosition  to  the  elements  of  ihe  Mathematics 
i  and  Classical  Literati.re.  Yoiinn- met),  desirous  of  qoaiifyin-c  therjiselves  to  be- 
'  come  Common  School  icuchey?.  enjoy  f-vuliar  advantaijes.  Ace  -''"nij'toan  .'^ctot' 
the  Leirislature,  fifteen  young  men  reci-  c  insiruction  gratvitouah/  for  c^  ''  purpose. 

The  College  Coursei^  arranged  int!>i-  ,bur  classes  dsiial  in  the  InstitutJou^  ."  ihi.-» 
country. 

The  G^overnment  of  the  stuilents  is  parental,  mild  and  affectionate,  Init  firm 
and  enersjetic.  They  attend  three  rtxirations  a  day,  Cht)"-'>^  and  Bible  Class  on 
the  Sabballi,  and  are  visited  in  fli^ir  i»Ofns  so  frequently  as  to  iireclude  the  dan- 
■rer  of  any  <rreat  irren-iilarifi^s.  Thf^y  .'le.  all  required  to  lodge  in  the  Coilege 
Edifice,  special  cases  excejifcd. 

The  annual  exn?n«e.s  are— (or  bo-M-d,  tuition  and  room-rent.  diiriiiL,'  the  winter 
session,  .'ft'')*)  ()2i:  for  the  i-uniin'-r session.  .f4.>  12.!;.  Washinu:.  .'^•Kt  "0:  and  V^'ood, 
!ik:i  00.  Total  expense,  $\2i  71.  Boi-dingcan  be  obtained  in  cinbs  at  ^'1  O't  per 
week. 

There  are  two  vacations  in  the  y  ir,  comnicncing  on  the  third  Thnrsdays  of 
.\\  ril  and  September,  each  of  five  wof  Is  continuance. 

The  duties  of  the  Winter  Scs'jio;!    >ili  bp  resumed  on  (he  2Ist  of  October. 
For  more  particular  information  i>    in  any  sub.iect  connected    with    either  De- 


)ar(ment  of  tlic  Instilulion,  :'.';^il■^■^^s. 


.v.  Dr.   f\'f!U"rfr. 

Presidi  nt  of  Piunstilvaniu  Call:. 

'     FF.SSOR    StoKVF.R, 

Prineipal  af  tKe  Preparulohj  Departrnenl. 


'.P::  l;,^(s  nv   ric;   '''  ^        .     On:'   iJa. 

ill.  (iiiniiicr. 


New  York  Botanical  Garden  Library 

3'5185  00292  "9998