only real artist of the whole. And she, alas! is rather aged for the part of the girlish maiden heroine. But the scenery, and the chorus, and the ballet, will be superb, especially in the scene of the Walpurgis Night, which is seldom or never given on the American stage. LUOY H. HOOPER.

OUR LONDON LETTER. WHAT is said to be a hitherto unpublished sermon by Father Prout has just been printed in a Cork paper. How characteristic it is! Having chosen for his text "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord," he goes on to show that the real poor are "the clargy," "'* and this is how the great Irish humorist winds

up:

"Last Thursday was a week since Bartlemy fair, and I wint down to buy a horse, for this is a large parish an' mortification an' frettin' have puffed me up, so that God help me it's little able I am to answer all the sick calls to say nothin' o stations, weddin's, and christenin's. Well! I bought the horse an' it cost me more than I expicted, so there I stood without a penny in my pocket after I paid the dealer. It rained cats an' dogs, an' as I am so poor I can't afford a great-coat, I got wet to the skin i' less than no time. There ye were, scores o' ye i' the public houses with the winders up that all the world might see ye a atein' an' dhrinkin' as if it was for a wager; an' there wasn't one o' ye had the grace to ask Father Prout ha' ye got a mouth i' yer face? An' there I might ha' stood i' the rain until this blissid hour (that is supposin' it had continued rainin' until now) if I hadn't been picked up by Mr. Mun Roche o' Kildinan-an honest gintleman an' an hospitable man I must say tho' he is a Protestant. He took me home with him an' there to yer etarnal disgrace, ye villains, I got as full as a tick-an' Mun Roche had to send me home in his own carriage, which is an everlasting shame to all o' ye who belong to the true Church.

"Now, I ask, which has carried out this tixt? Ye, who did not give me even a poor tumbler o' punch at Bartlemy, or Mun Roche who took me home an' filled me with the best atein' an' dhrinkin', an' sint me to my own house afther that in his own iligant carriage? Who best fulfilled the Scriptur? Who lint to the Lord by givin' to the poor clargy?

"Remember a time will come when I must give an account o' ye! What can I say thin? Won't I have to hang down my head in shame on yer account? 'Pon my conscience, it wouln't much surprise me, unless ye greatly mind yer ways, if Mun Roche an' you won't have to change places on that occasion-he to sit along side o' me, as a friend who had thrated the poor clargy well i' this world, an' ye in a sartin place, which I won't particularly mintion now, except to hint that its precious little frost and snow ye'll have in it; but quite the revarse. However, it's never too late to mind; an' I hope by this day week it's quite another story I'll have to till o' ye all."

Mr. Arthur Sullivan, from whom we look for a really fine opera one of these days, is at present basking under Italy's blue skies. But he is at work withal. He has an Italian piece in hand.

Our late M. P. for Falmouth, Mr. Eastwick, great authority on Indian affairs, is just now Dusily engaged in our Eastern empire in gathring up materials for some hand-books on the hree presidencies, which Mr. Murray has comnissioned him to write. It is well that Mr. Eastwick has taken to the pen again, for, hough an execrable speaker, he is an excel

ent writer.

Mr. Maddison Morton, the veteran author of "Box and Cox," has chosen a strange title or his forthcoming Haymarket comedy. It vill be called "Chaff," but doubtless there

* Clergy.

mer.

The queen of song, Madame Adelina Patti, is coming among us again. She is on the point of landing, as I write, from Dieppe. Hard work is before her. At Bristol she has to sing, at Brighton she has also to sing, and in London she has to lay the foundation-stone of a new throat and ear hospital.

Two of our best-known authors have been writing to the newspapers within the last few days-Charles Reade and R. H. Horne, of 66 farthing epic" fame. Mr. Horne rushes into print to express his opinion that Captain Webb, the swimmer, should be made a knight; Mr. Reade does ditto in order to defend Colonel Baker, of indecent-assault infamy. Incidentally we learn from the latter's letter that he is wont to keep a written record of criminal cases, a disclosure which will not surprise those of his readers who have perused his "Never too late to mend."

I met Mr. B. L. Farjeon the other morning as he was following Dr. Johnson's famous example-taking "a walk down Fleet Street." He had just, he told me in his ever-hearty way, returned from France, where an agreeable surprise had awaited him. Happening to go into a Paris bookseller's shop, he saw a French translation that he wotted not of, of his Christmas-story," The King of No-Land." It was the last copy that dealer in books had, but he had sold many copies, he went on; and then he proceeded to expatiate on the merits of the tale. The author of "Grif," of course, listened smilingly, but went away without either making his identity known or buying the volume. "Twould have been a pity, you know, Williams," he remarked, slyly, 66 to have prevented somebody having the pleasure of reading it."

Mr. John Baldwin Buckstone, the veteran author-actor, is one of the most forgetful of men; indeed, he is almost as absent-minded as Sydney Smith himself. A very characteristic anecdote regarding him has just cropped up. It appears that some years ago, when Mr. B. was in that smokiest of Scotch cities, Glasgow, his son introduced him to a Mr. Albert Smith, a civil engineer, as an old acquaintance. "Don't you remember my friend Mr. Smith, you know?" "Smith-Smith!" muttered the aged comedian; "I've heard that name before." 66 Why, father," said the son, "it's Mr. Albert Smith." "Albert Smith-Albert Smith! Bless my soul! do you say so? I thought I had-er-buried poor Albert-ertwelve years ago-er-in Kensal Green Cemetery!"

WILL WILLIAMS.

that country, was in an equally advanced state some ten centuries later. The stability of this ancient brickwork may be best proved by the fact that the name of Nebuchadnezzar is as common on the bricks of many modern towns in Persia as it was in Babylon, the old brick walls having been demolished simply to furnish material for the modern structures. As illustrating the labor bestowed on these works, it is said that the mound of Koyunjik alone contained fourteen and one-half million tons of brick, representing the labor of ten thousand men for twelve years! The palace of Sennacherib, which stood on the mound, was probably the largest ever built by any one monarch. It contained more than two miles of walls, paneled with alabaster slabs. Herodotus states that in the construction of one of his palaces this monarch employed three hundred and sixty thousand men. Passing from these architectural wonders to those more intimately related to engineering science, reference is made to the extended system of irrigation-works constructed by the Egyptians, Mesopotamians, and other ancient people. Egypt was probably far better irrigated in the days of the Pharaohs than it is now, and as this could not have been accomplished without the aid of maps and surveys, it is evident that at that day surveying and its kindred branches were understood and practised. Lake Moris, in Egypt, was an artificial reservoir made by one of the Pharaohs, and supplied by the floodwaters of the Nile. It was one hundred and fifty square miles in extent, and was retained by a bank or dam sixty yards wide and ten feet high, which bank, though now in ruins, can be traced for a distance of thirteen miles. While the greater number of the ancient canals were made for purposes of irrigation, others served also for navigation. One of these was traced by Sir Henry Rawlinson from Hit, on the Euphrates, to the Persian Gulf, a distance of between four and five hundred miles. A kindred subject of more direct interest at the present time is that of drainage. Twenty-three centuries ago the city of Agrigentum possessed a system of sewers, which, on account of their size, were deemed worthy of mention by Diodorus, and it was two centuries earlier than this that the wellknown Cloaca Maxima was built as part of the drainage system of Rome. The palace-mounds of Nimroud and Babylon were built over great vaulted drains, as were also the brick mounds of Chaldea. Following these statements are others of a like character, referring to the more familiar facts regarding the Roman roads, aqueducts, etc., after noticing which, the writer enters the departments of invention and applied science. Extended reference is made to the steam-engine, weaving-machines, steamships, and electric telegraph. The following state

ment regarding the illustrious Dr. Lardner's opinion of ocean steamships may be comforting to the disciples of Keely, who still have faith in the motor, "science to the contrary notwithstanding." ." Referring to Dr. Lardner, the writer continues: "It is not more than forty years since one of our scientific men, and an able one, too, declared, at a meeting of this Association, that no steamboat would ever cross the Atlantic, founding his statement on the impracticability, in his view, of a steamboat carrying enough coal profitably for the voyage. Yet, soon after this statement was made, the Sirius steamed from Bristol to New York in seventeen days."

Ir may safely be asserted that to no scientific expedition has there been accorded a greater measure of popular favor and good will than to that which has now entered the polar regions. From the outset we have endeavored to inform our readers fully as to the extent and character of the scientific preparations, the duties of the officers, and the efforts that had been made to secure efficient service. As yet, however, nothing has been said of the plans devised for making the many hours of idleness pass pleasantly and profitably away. And yet these preparations seem to have been as complete as those relating to the labors of the party. A correspondent to the London Daily Telegraph who accompanied the explorers as far as Disco, returning thence on the Valorous, notices these plans for polar amusements as follows: "There will be no want either of occupation or amusement in the long darkness of at least one hundred and twenty days that the explorers must encounter. The magnetic observatory has been taken out in pieces from England, with no iron in any part, and a copper stove has been supplied for it. This wooden edifice will be erected on shore, if the ship succeeds in finding winter quarters in a harbor, and there will be another observatory for the astronomical observations. | Thus the scientific staff will be steadily at work through the winter, while the instruction and amusement of officers and men will be fully provided for. There will be schools for teaching navigation and other branches of knowledge. A large collection of excellent magic-lantern slides furnishes the means of illustrating lectures on astronomy, as well as popular tales and anecdotes. The expedition is rich in musical talent, and each ship has a piano and a harmonium. Lieutenant Aldrich is an accomplished pianist; Lieutenants May and Egerton play the banjo, Lieutenant Parr the flute, and there is a talented drum and fife band on the lower deck, besides any amount of vocal music fore and aft. Commander Markham, with Mr. Egerton as a confederate, will give entertainments of magic and legerdemain, and can perform all conjuring tricks, from the magic - bottle to dark séances and clairvoyance. The histrionic talent is also in strong force on board both ships; many presents of dresses and properties were received, including one from Mr. Irving, and a magnificent proscenium has been painted for the Alert. There will also be periodical literature and newspapers, besides printed playbills and notices, the printing department being ably conducted by Lieutenant Giffard and Robert Symons. Nor has due provision for such festive occasions as birthdays and Christmastide been forgotten. Fortunately, as many as seven birthdays occur during the long winter nights, five in the Alert and two in the Discovery. The importance of the duties of making the winter pass quickly and pleasantly away, by amusing as well as employing the minds of all

on board and preventing their caring for the inevitable hardships and sufferings, as well as by strictly enforcing the proper amount of daily exercise and the observance of sanitary regulations, cannot be over-estimated, and every member of the expedition, by cordially and heartily entering into the spirit of the work, will each in his place thus secure the maintenance of the general health both of mind and body. It is this alone that can insure that elasticity and vigor which, in the spring of 1876, is destined to carry the crosses of St. George far into the unknown north. As the sun begins to approach the horizon the grand work of the expedition will commence."

UNDER the title "Astronomical Predictions," Professor Daniel Kirkwood contributes to the Tribune a tabulated list of the several phenomena to be observed in the heavens during the next twenty-five years. From this list, which includes eclipses, with solar and lunar occultations, transits, comets, and starshowers, we select the following phenomena as likely to attract general attention in this country: On the 23d of August, 1877, a total eclipse of the moon will occur, partly visible in the United States. The great astronomical event of the transit of Venus will occur on the 6th of December, 1882, and will be visible in the United States. A maximum of sun-spots may be looked for in the year 1888, and also the return of the comet of 1812, whose period was estimated at seventy years and eight months. A considerable display of meteors may be expected on the 20th of April, 1884, and a total eclipse of the moon will occur on the 4th of October. In February, 1886, Winnecke's comet will return. The only opportunity of witnessing a total eclipse of the sun on this continent during the century will occur in Colorado, on the 28th of July, 1878. That part of the stream of November meteors which produced the showers of 1787 and 1820 may be expected to return between 1885 and 1888. A display of meteors derived from Biela's comet may be expected about November 24, 1892. On the night of December 27, 1898, the moon will be totally eclipsed. The maximum display of Leonids or November meteors may be expected on the morning of the 15th of that month, 1899; and on May 27, 1900, a total eclipse of the sun will be visible in Virginia. In addition to these phenomena of special interest are the numerous returns of the smaller comets, the transits of Mercury, and several stellar occultations. A review of the list will prove of special significance from the fact that the astronomer now classes the meteor among the " manageable " of the heavenly bodies, and boldly announces the periods at which the coming of these "celestial rovers may be expected.

THE table-tumblers are at it again, and this time the contest has resulted in a challenge which can hardly be disregarded. It appears that Colonel Henry S. Olcott, in a recentlypublished communication, referred to a member of the Liberal Club as one who "hailed the idea of annihilation," wittily adding that said member was "seized with rapture at the sight of a tray of snuffers as the fitting emblem of his faith." This charge does not seem to have been well received at headquarters, and three members of the club-one physicist, one physician, and one lawyer-unite in not only disclaiming, on behalf of the club, any special sympathy with the "snufferman," but, what is of more importance, in proving that the "unspiritual members" have endeavored in vain to get at the truths of

ease.

spiritualism by "attested facts." It appears that some years ago these gentlemen were constituted a special committee "to investigate spiritual facts and phenomena within the city and vicinity," and this is their conclusion, namely, that so far as they have been able to discover they find no "spirit hypothesis" needed to account for the phenomena observed, since they all fall quite readily mder one or more of the following categories: 1. Fraud; 2. Illusion; 3. Delusion; 4. Dis "If any man or woman," say the committee, can produce or knows of phenomena that they will assert upon their honor that they believe cannot be so reduced, the undersigned will give such phenomena and their conditions a careful and, as far as possible, a scientific investigation." The gentlemen who thus offer their services are Drs. Van der Weyde and Marvin, and Mr. T. B. Wakeman, and the challenge is so decided, and yet its conditions so just, that to refuse to listen will place the unfortunate spirits in a very unenviable light indeed.

THE Scott-Moncrieff tramway-car, which is worked by compressed air, was recently tested on the Govan & Glasgow Railway. There appear to have been three trials; in the first two the car started with a pressure in its res ervoir of three hundred pounds to the square inch, which pressure, in the third trial, was reduced to two hundred pounds. The car was said to be readily controlled, its speed increased or diminished at will, the operations of starting, stopping, reversing, etc., being performed with ease. Furthermore, the estimated cost per mile was one and one-half cents, or one-fifth that of horse-power. Al this we give on the authority of the English Mechanic, and yet we hesitate to accept the facts without a more complete verification of them. The engineering and mechanical problems, which are here briefly announced as clearly solved, are those to which the attention of mechanics and inventors has been directed for years, and it is hardly creditable that an invention which may revolutionize our street-car system has been thus quietly perfected and applied. We shall await with interest any further information - the only description now at hand being that "the vehicle resembles an ordinary car, but is a little higher, the reservoir of air being carried on the roof."

WE learn from Nature that an interesting: geological discovery has been recently made during excavations for a new tidal basin the Surrey Commercial Docks. On penetrat ing some six feet below the surface, the work. men everywhere came across a subterraneat forest-bed, consisting of peat with trunks of trees, for the most part still standing erect All are of the species still inhabiting Britain the oak, alder, and willow, are apparently mos abundant. The trees are not mineralized, bu retain their vegetable character, except tha they are thoroughly saturated with water. I the peat are found large bones, which have been determined as those of the great fossi ox (Bos primigenius). Fresh-water shells an also found. No doubt is entertained that th bed thus exposed is a continuation of the ol buried forest, of wide extent, which has on sev eral recent occasions been brought to the day light on both sides of the Thames, notably Walthamstow, in the year 1869, in excavating for the East London Water-works; at Plum stead, in 1862-'63, in making the southern out fall sewer; and a few weeks since at West minster, on the site of the new Aquarium and

Winter Garden. In each instance the forestbed is found buried beneath the marsh-clay, showing that the land has sunk below the tidal level since the forest flourished.

M. CEOIL, a French engineer, has invented a new process of making bread, which has been approved by the Minister of War, and will be adopted in the French army. The main purpose of this method is to retain an increased per cent. of the nutritive properties of the grain, and the general process may be thus described: The unground grain is first steeped in water, after which it is placed in revolving cylinders, by which it is deprived of its outer husk, which contains but four or five per cent. of nutriment. The grains are then softened by forming them into a thin sponge, and keeping them for a space of six to eight hours at a temperature of 77° Fahr. They are then crushed under rollers, and made into dough, with salt and water, as usual. By avoiding the grinding and wetting processes, it is believed that twenty per cent. of nutrimént is saved, and thus the grain that would make one hundred and twelve pounds of bread in the ordinary way, will by this new process make what is equivalent to one hundred and forty pounds.

OWING to the misplacement of a decimal point, we were permitted, in our paper on "The Clinical Thermoscope," last week, to state that "mental exertion raises the temperature from 2.5° to 5°." The reader will please make the correction to ".25° to .5°."

Miscellany:

NOTEWORTHY THINGS GLEANED HERE

AND THERE.

ROM an article in the Gentleman's Magg

FROM

zine on the Carmelites, the most ancient monastic order in Christendom, we copy a description of the habits of the brethrenwhich is rendered the more interesting from the fact that to this order the distinguished Père Hyacinthe belonged:

The dress of the Carmelites, though in a certain degree picturesque, is cumbersome in the extreme. It consists of a coarse brown habit reaching to the feet, and fastened by a leathern girdle round the waist, from which depends the usual string of beads, called a rosary;" over this falls the scapular, nearyas long as the habit, before and behind, nd above the scapular is worn the circular ippet and cowl, termed the "capuchin." Then fully dressed the monk also wears a ick white cloak and hood, in which the rown cowl is inserted as a lining; and when alking beyond the precincts of the convent wears a huge black sombrero, which gives grotesque dignity to the whole. It is from e white cloak and hood just described that e Carmelite derives his name of "Whiteiar."

The rule of life of this ancient order premts to the casual inspection of a worldly e an aspect of revolting severity; this is, wever, more apparent than real. Eight onths of the year are devoted to fasting, d on every Wednesday and Friday throughtthe year personal discipline (self-inflicted), space of one "Miserere," is compulry upon every member of the community. le instrument of correction-called in monk

the

ish parlance a discipline" is a terrible weapon when used by a powerful hand upon the bare flesh. It is composed of fine whipcord beautifully twisted into a handle about a foot long, from which depend six or eight tails, finished at the ends in artistically-worked knots. Sometimes wire is interwoven with the cord, and, by special permission of superiors, little steel points are inserted into the ends of the tails. On the evenings appointed for the infliction of the discipline, the brethren assemble in the oratory of the convent, or in some place devoted to the purpose, and the windows and doors having been carefully fastened and covered, so that no vagrant ray of light may enter at an inopportune moment, all range themselves round the chamber, discipline in hand, and the prior, or other superior monk, commences the prefatory prayers. Presently, at a given signal, the lights are extinguished, and each religious prepares to use his whip. For this purpose the skirt of the habit is drawn over the head, and the loose flannel drawers beneath unfastened, and suffered to fall about the hips: all is then ready. Suddenly a whizzing sound disturbs the air of the room; a dull thud upon the naked flesh, followed by the broken voice of the prior commencing the penitential psalm, gives the signal to commence; and immediately there is a sound as of a score of flails thrashing upon a granary-floor, while a chorus of agonized voices roaring out the Miserere attest, by their peculiar emphasis, the vigor with which each monk is scourging his own unfortunate body. As the psalm is hurried over voice and hand fail, and there is a sigh of intense relief throughout the assembly as the prior, by an exhaustive effort, yells out the last words of the psalm. After a sufficient pause, to allow of the dress being adjusted, the light is readmitted, and after a short final prayer each monk departs in silence to his own cell.

In addition to this rough discipline, the Carmelite rule commands the total abstinence from flesh of every animal, and forbids the removal of the habit for any purpose except that of changing the under-clothing; thus, the monk is obliged to sleep in his clothes upon a bare board, with a pillow for his head, and a rug or blanket for his feet.

The daily routine of the Carmelite life is much as follows: The brethren rise at five A. M. all the year round, and immediately assemble in the choir, where they kneel in silence for an hour of mental prayer, at the conclusion of which the lay-brothers leave the choir to proceed to their several employments, while the clerics and choir-brothers commence to chant the first office of the day, which consists of the four canonical hours "Prime," "Tierce," "Sext," and "None." The chant used on such occasions is nothing but a highpitched monotone, with a long drawl upon the last word of each phrase, without the slightest vestige of a cadence, which, though solemn and effective on being heard for the first time, becomes in a little while insufferably weari

some.

At the conclusion of this office, the fathers prepare to celebrate their several masses, at one or other of which the rest of the community assists. Three times a week, or oftener at the discretion of the superior, the brethren who are not qualified to celebrate mass receive the sacrament either publicly in the church, or in the choir. After the daily masses,

the fathers and choir-brethren retire to their studies or other imposed duties until eleven o'clock, when the first meal of the day is taken. Before proceeding to dinner the brethren assemble in the choir, and, after chanting

several prayers and psalms, march in procession, still chanting, to the refectory, where, after much more chanting, and many twistings and turnings, and divers low bows, they file off right and left to their places at the table. During the repast a monk reads aloud either from the Scriptures, or from the "Lives of the Saints."

Many tedious and minute ceremonies have to be observed by the scrupulous Carmelite in the conduct of his meal. He must hold his knife and fork, or spoon, in one particular fashion, his drinking-cup, which has two handles, must be clasped by both hands when it is raised to the mouth, and the napkin which lies by the side of his plate must be disposed about the body in a peculiar fashion, a failure in any of these particulars exposing the delinquent to a reprimand and a public penance.

It is also de rigueur that the monk who is the first to finish his meal should leave his seat at the table, and, having thrown himself upon his knees before the prior, solicit a public penance; the reason of which rule is not evident, unless it be designed to enhance the enjoyment of the others who have not been so hasty in their operations.

The penances given on these occasions are sufficiently humiliating and ludicrous. Upon a signal from the prior, the penitent will prostrate himself before each of his brethren in turn, and present his cheek to be soundly boxed; or he will throw himself upon his knees and kiss the feet of the rest of the community, aud, as the Carmelite goes with naked feet, and washes them upon occasions of ceremony only, the latter penance is much more severe than the former. Another favorite punishment is to cause the penitent to make a spread-eagle of himself upon the threshold of the door, so that every member of the community may step upon him in coming in or in going out. Should a monk be so unhappy as to break any article of his dinner-service, he is condemned to leave his dinner, and stand in the centre of the refectory bearing the fragments of crockery in a little basket round his neck.

The first meal of the day consists of three dishes: a pottage of beans or lentils, fish, and eggs variously and deliciously cooked, with bread ad libitum. For drink, there is strong ale (in England and other beer-drinking countries) and red wine, generous in quality and quantity.

After dinner, as this meal may be called, the brethren retire for an hour's siesta, and then resume their several occupations till vespers. Shortly after vespers and compline are sung, the community kneel again for an hour's meditation or mental prayer, and then march in the same order and with the same ceremonies as before to supper. This meal is more important than the earlier one, inasmuch as it is now the superior passes his strictures upon the various members of the community who may have been remiss in their duties during the day. It is the duty (and, alas! very often the pleasure) of the superior to humiliate his monks in every possible way (especially the younger brethren and the novices) in order to destroy any notions of spiritual pride or selfesteem that might hinder their progress to perfection; hence he will affect to find fault with great sternness when, perhaps, there may be no room for any thing but approbation.

At this meal, also, the master of the novices makes public complaint of the weaknesses of his pupils, which he does upon his knees before the superior in the centre of the refectory. Immediately on hearing his name mentioned,

the culprit leaves his place at the table and remains kneeling by the side of his accuser until sentence is passed. He must never think of defending himself, for that would argue an amount of self-esteem sufficient to shock the whole community; and, though the charge arise out of a mistake on the part of the accuser, and the proof of its falsity be to hand, the victim must not adduce it, but receive cheerfully and silently the punishment awarded him by his superior. It is also competent at this time for any monk to make complaint of the shortcomings of a brother, who likewise is forbidden to defend himself, and thus an opportunity is given to petty spite and malice (which will find a home even in the most sanctified bosoms) to wreak itself upon its enemies.

In a series of papers entitled "Recollections of Writers," Mrs. Mary Cowden Clarke gives an interesting description of an interview with Coleridge:

It was in the summer of this last-named (1821) year that I first beheld Samuel Taylor Coleridge. It was on the East Cliff at Ramsgate. He was contemplating the sea under its most attractive aspect: in a dazzling sun, with sailing clouds that drew their purple shadows over its bright-green floor, and a merry breeze of sufficient prevalence to emboss each wave with a silvery foam. He might possibly have composed upon the occasion one of the most philosophical, and at the same time most enchanting, of his fugitive reflections, which he has entitled "Youth and Age:" for in it he speaks of "airy cliffs and glittering sands," and—

"Of those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,

That fear no spite of wind or tide."

As he had no companion, I desired to pay my respects to one of the most extraordinaryand, indeed, in his department of genius, the most extraordinary man of his age. And, being possessed of a talisman for securing his consideration, I introduced myself as a friend and admirer of Charles Lamb. This password was sufficient, and I found him immediately talking to me in the bland and frank tones of a standing acquaintance. A poor girl had that morning thrown herself from the pier-head in a pang of despair, from having been betrayed by a villain. He alluded to the event, and went on to denounce the morality of the age that will hound from the community the reputed weaker subject, and continue to receive him who has wronged her. He agreed with me that that question never will be adjusted but by the women themselves. Justice will continue in abeyance so long as they visit with severity the errors of their own sex and tolerate those of ours. He then diverged to the great mysteries of life and death, and branched away to the sublimer questionthe immortality of the soul. Here he spread the sail-broad vans of his wonderful imagination, and soared away with an eagle flight, und with an eagle eye, too, compassing the effulgence of his great argument, ever and anon stooping within my own sparrow's range, and then glancing away again, and careering through the trackless fields of ethereal metaphysics. And thus he continued for an hour and a half, never pausing for an instant except to catch his breath (which, in the heat of his teeming mind, he did like a school-boy repeating by rote his task), and gave utterance to some of the grandest thoughts I ever heard from the mouth of man. His ideas, em

would throw these into the stream of his . guments, as waifs and strays. Notwithstand

bodied in words of purest eloquence, flew about my ears like drifts of snow. He was like a cataract filling and rushing over my penny-ing his wealth of language and prodigion vial capacity. I could only gasp and bow my head in acknowledgment. He required from me nothing more than the simple recognition of his discourse; and so he went on like a steam-engine-I keeping the machine oiled with my looks of pleasure, while he supplied the fuel: and that, upon the same theme too, would have lasted till now. What would I have given for a short-hand report of that speech! And such was the habit of this wonderful man. Like the old peripatetic philosophers, he walked about, prodigally scattering wisdom, and leaving it to the winds of chance to waft the seeds into a genial soil.

power in amplification, no one, I think (mless it were Shakespeare or Bacon), possessed with himself equal power of condensation. He would frequently comprise the elements of a noble theorem in two or three words; and, like the genuine offspring of a poet's brain, it always came forth in a golden halo. I remember once, in discoursing upon the architecture of the middle ages, he reduced the Gothic structure into a magnificent abstraction — and in two words. "A Gothic cathedral," he said, "is like a petrified religion."

In his prose as well as in his poetry, Coleridge's comparisons are almost uniformly short and unostentatious; and not on that ac count the less forcible: they are scriptural in character; indeed, it would be difficult to find one more apt to the purpose than that which he has used; and yet it always appears to be unpremeditated. Here is a random example of what I mean: it is an unimportant one, but it serves for a casual illustration of his force in comparison. It is the last line in that strange and impressive fragment in prose, "The Wanderings of Cain "-"And they three passed over the white sands, and between the rocks, silent as their shadows." It will be difficult, I think, to find a stronger image than that, to convey the idea of the utter negation of sound, with motion.

My first suspicion of his being at Ramsgate had arisen from my mother observing that she had heard an elderly gentleman in the public library, who looked like a Dissenting minister, talking as she never heard man talk. Like his own "Ancient Mariner," when he had once fixed your eye he held you spellbound, and you were constrained to listen to his tale; you must have been more powerful than he to have broken the charm; and I know no man worthy to do that. He did, indeed, answer to my conception of a man of genius, for his mind flowed on "like to the Pontic Sea," that "ne'er feels retiring ebb." It was always ready for action; like the hare, it slept with its eyes open. He would at any given moment range from the subtlest and most abstruse question in metaphysics to the architectural beauty in contrivance of a flower of the field; and the gorgeousness of his imagery would increase and dilate and flash forth such coruscations of similes and startling theories that one was in a perpetual aurora borealis of fancy. As Hazlitt once said of him: "He would talk on forever, and you wished him to talk on forever. His thoughts never seemed to come with labor or effort, but as if borne on the gusts of genius, and as if the wings of his imagination lifted him off his feet." This is as truly as poetically described. He would not only illustrate a theory or an argument with a sustained and superb figure, but in pursuing the current of his thought he would bubble up with a sparkle of fancy so fleet and brilliant that the attention, though startled and arrested, was not broken. He JOURNAL.

Like all men of genius, and with the gift of eloquence, Coleridge had a power and subtilty in interpretation that would persuade an ordinary listener against the conviction of his senses. It has been said of him that he could persuade a Christian he was a Platonist, Deist that he was a Christian, and an atheist that he believed in a God. The preface to his ode of "Fire, Famine, and Slaughter," wherein he labors to show that Pitt the prime-minister was not the object of his invective at the time of his composing that famous war-eclogue, is at once a triumphant specimen of his talent for special pleading and ingenuity in sophistication.

* Are we to assume this to be the origin of Mrs. Jameson's definition, "petrified music?"-ED.

Notices.

THE PAY-ROLL TO GO TO AMERICAN OPERATIVES. Of the successful concerns in the State of New Jersey we may mention the pen-factory of R. Esterbrook & Co., with factory at Camden, and warehouse 26 John Street, New York.

Gillott for years had almost the monopoly of the steel-pen business, but the Esterbrooks have so persistently pushed the business, so successfully have they competed with Birmingham, that within few months we under stand that orders from the leading houses were on the books of the company, taking turn in the product of a fac tory of 250 hands. The Messrs. Esterbrook have brought a liberal and off-hand policy to their business, and the result is that when their monthly accounts are made out they include the leading sta pens in all the States of the Union, and of the Territories too. The Esterbrooks have as g as there are tints in an autumn foliage.

ioners and dealers in

eat a variety of peas

Thus year by year we become more independent of the foreign labor market. With e deepening of the English coal-beds the cost of coal will increase in England and the natural tariff presented our vast coal area, and our improved and improving machinery, must develop more and more our ability to r pens, and it is to be hoped our silks and our broadcloth. American money to go into the operatives is our ambition, and daily we are, in one branch or another of industry, seeing our New Jersey Journal (Elizabeth), August 18, 1875.

ke our pencils, our

hands of American

ambition gratified.