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still lingered in the hall, and the audience, uncon- | Abbott's histories for youth, and announces Hilscious of change, retained their positions, till the dreth's "History of the United States," for almost vice-president, hastening to dissolve the spell, immediate publication. Besides these, Clarke's called to order! Order!-there never was a deep-"Library of Choice Reading" consists exclusively er stillness-not a movement had been made-not of printed editions of the works of Bryant, Irving, even a whisper heard. The feeling was too deep and Longfellow; and an enterprising bookseller, for articulation, by voice or hand. The only sound named Slater, vends, in shilling volumes, the proaudible was that long-drawn, deep breath by which ductions of Emerson and Longfellow alternately the overcharged heart seeks relief. All else would with those of Lamartine and Frederika Bremer.— have been an outrage upon the heart. Congregationalist.
The New England men walked down Pennsylvania Avenue, after the speech that day, with a firmer step and bolder air-" pride in their port, defiance in their eye." They looked every one in the face they met, fearing no contradiction. They clustered in small parties, and fought the scene over again, one hundred times, before night. Their elation was the greater, from their previous fears. Their joy knew no limits. Not one of them but felt he had gained a personal victory. Not one who was not ready to exclaim, in fulness of gratitude, "Thank God, I too am a
That evening General Jackson held a levee at the White House. It was known that Mr. Webster would attend it. And hardly had the hospitable doors of the house been opened, before the crowd that had filled the senate chamber in the morning rushed in and occupied the rooms. Persons a little more tardy in arriving found it now difficult to get in.
Heretofore, the general had been the observed of all observers. His military and personal reputation, official position, gallant bearing, and courteous manners, had secured him great and merited popularity. His receptions were always attended with interest by large numbers-to whom he himself was the great object of attraction.
But, on this occasion, the room in which he received his company was deserted as far as courtesy to the president permitted. Mr. Webster, it was said, was in the east room, and thither the whole mass hurried.
He stood nearly in the centre of the room for a long time, hemmed in by eager crowds, pressing to get nearer to him. He seemed nowise exhausted by the intellectual exertion of the day, but smilingly serene. The flush of excitement still lingered upon his countenance, gilding and beautifying it as the parting rays of the setting sun its accompanying clouds.
All were eager to get a sight of him. Some stood on tip-toe, and some even mounted the chairs of the room. The dense crowd, entering and retiring, moved round him, renewing the order of their ingression and egression continually. One would ask his neighbor: "Where, which is Webster?"-"There, don't you see him-that dark, swarthy man, with the great deep eye and heavy brow." Every man felt a pride in knowing him by sight, while they who did not, envied.
THE AGES OF THE STATES.-The following are the dates when the respective states entered the American Union:
8. South Carolina,
A Mr. R, a wine-merchant, was very intimate with Fauntleroy, and, with a few friends, was in the habit of dining with him frequently. On these occasions, when the party was not too large, the host would produce some very choice old Lunelle wine, of which R was exceedingly fond, but Fauntleroy could never be prevailed upon to say where he got it, or how it could be obtained. When the latter was under sentence of death, his old associates visited him repeatedly, and at their last interview, the night before his execution, R, after having bid him farewell with the rest, on a sudden paused in the prison passage, returned to the cell, and said in a low voice to the criminal, "You'll pardon my pressing the subject, but now, at all events, my dear friend, you can have no objection to tell me where I can get some of that Lunelle."-Life and Remains of Hooke.
AMERICAN BOOKS IN ENGLAND.-Reprints of standard American works are issuing in great numbers from the press. Bentley advertises a new THERE is a firm in Cincinnati which employs edition of Prescott's admirable histories, of Eliot's very profitably a capital of $10,000 in the rather "Liberty of Rome," and of Longfellow's "Sea- singular business of preparing sausage skins for the side and Fireside." Murray is bringing out new European markets. Another person in the same editions of Washington Irving's books, and, as I city makes the cleansing and preparation of hogs' have already stated, promises a History of Span-bladders his sole and richly rewarding business. ish Literature," by George Ticknor, Esq., of Bos-The bladders are filled with lard for shipment to ton. Sampson Low has issued eight volumes of England.
DEVOTION TO DUTY.
THE following beautiful delineation of a character remarkable for benevolence and devotion to duty, is from "a sermon commemorative of the life and character of the late JAMES MACDONALD, M. D., preached at St. George's, Flushing, on the 5th Sunday after Easter, 1849, by JOHN D. OGILBY, D. D., Professor, &c., in the General Theological Seminary." The allusion to the sympathetic kindness and humanity of the medical profession, is a tribute in which few of the clergy, we think, will refuse to join. So many of them have themselves experienced these traits in the most disinterested forms, and witnessed their exhibition to others, that they will be ready to adopt the language of Dr. Ogilby as expressive of their feelings.
Without claiming for our departed friend the gifts of genius properly so called, we must in justice accord to him decided intellectual ability. He never failed, in whatever position, to meet fully the demand made upon him in this way. But, after all, it is of more account to decide whether he made a right use of the talents committed to him, than to determine their exact measure. And here, in connection with his consistency of conduct, it behoves us to notice his constant and untiring devotion to the duties of his station. A medical friend, who knew his constitutional delicacy of health, said the other day, in reference to his rapid sinking under the violence of disease, "He did too much. And in one sense, perhaps, he did. But had he done otherwise, he had ceased to be, in a moral and religious point of view, the man he was. The man who lives not only for himself, nor even only for his own, (that dearer self,) but also for the good of his fellow-men, must almost inevitably do too much, either for personal comfort, or bodily health, or (it may be) for length of life. I do not advocate the wilful waste of life or health; nor even the neglect of such allowable recreation by the way as may consist with the stern demands of duty, and help to fit for its discharge. I only mean to say, that he who gives himself up to duty, and who, in God's Providence, is called to a great and onerous work, may be forced, forgetful of self, to take his life in his hand, and to go forward with little regard to comfort, health, or life.
Such was the devotion to duty that marked our departed friend's career, and possibly helped to bring him to what men call "a premature death." "What his hand found to do, he did it with his might." Noiselessly, and without parade, indeed, but not the less resolutely and energetically, he pressed forward, in the prosecution of well laid plans of useful and honorable service, towards that success which devotion and integrity can alone command. He succeeded beyond reasonable expectation. And when seemingly about to enter into the fruits of his labor, GoD called him away to another scene. Shall we regret that devotion to duty, which, while it brought success, was perhaps too much for health? Would you have had him fail in duty, that life might have been a little more prolonged? Nay; for ours is the example of his devotion to duty; and his, we doubt not, are its rewards.
Although the just proportion that obtained between the powers and qualities, both of mind and heart, of our departed friend, makes it (as before
observed) difficult to single out any for particular deserves especial commemoration. remark, there is, nevertheless, one other trait that I mean his humanity, his love of man as his fellow-man; which was not only singularly tender, but exquisitely delicate and refined. Not that this quality in him was obtrusive, or apparent to a mere superficial observer. On the contrary, it was remarkably unobtrusive; and yet its power was felt, because it cealed than light or heat. In the manner of its was real; for real humanity can no more be conexercise he reconciled those seemingly contradictory precepts of our blessed Lord; "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth;" and "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which fected by his humility, which regarded as mere is in heaven." And this reconciliation was efdischarge of duty the almost instinctive acting out of his humanity.
As his consistency of conduct procured for him the confidence of men, so did his humanity win for him their love. It was by this magnetism of the heart that he attracted those who came within the sphere of his influence. As he went about, in the quiet discharge of duty, following at humble distance in His footsteps, "whose voice was not heard in the streets," and who" went about doing good;" like Him, ministering, as occasion served, to the bodily sufferings of the poor, and of that most afflicted portion of our race, who were the chosen objects of his care: bestowing the same skill, and exercising the same tenderness, where no earthly reward awaited him, as where it did; men felt that he was actuated by higher motives than pecuniary gain, or even professional distinction; that he sought (in the spirit proper to another office) "not theirs, but them."
And here justice constrains me to say that his is not the only example I have known, of the illustration, by members of the medical profession, of this highest form of charity. Continually brought, in the daily exercise of duty, into contact with human suffering, in its most aggravated forms, the physician who cherishes not sympathy for it, and strives not in some measure to relieve it, must have a heart colder than clay and harder than adamant. Obliged as the practitioner is to seem calm, whatever be his real emotion, the profession are apt to suffer from the imputation of selfish indifference, or of making merchandise merely of human suffering. My own experience (and it has been my fortune to know several of the profession well) convinces me, that although unworthy men enter this as other professions, not one of them (scarce excepting that whose peculiar function it is to comfort and succor the afflicted, whether in mind, body, or estate) contributes a larger quota of gratuitous relief to human suffering, than this unjustly abused and honorable calling.
Our departed brother was one who reflected honor on his profession, by his conscientious dis charge of its ordinary functions; by his zealous. efforts to improve and perfect the treatment of the insane; by his gratuitous services in ameliorating the condition of insane prisoners; and by countless. unostentatious or unknown acts of professional kindness, at the dictate of humanity alone, which cannot be summed up till the judgment day.
As an instance illustrative of our departed friend's professional fidelity, where no selfish interest was to be advanced, and of his sympathizing humanity, I feel constrained, by gratitude to him, as God's
minister of good to me and mine, to obtrude my- Flemish school, hung on the wall, and to admire self somewhat more upon your notice, than, under some stuffed birds, admirable specimens of taxyother circumstances, might be seemly. Though I dermic skill, which stood on a round table, before have known him for more than twenty years, and the servant reäppeared and conducted us through a have seen enough of him, from time to time, large room, the walls of which, from ceiling to throughout that period, to be a competent witness to floor, were covered with books, plainly shelved up, his consistency of life from first to last; it was not into the room of Humboldt himself. He met us at until some six years since that I was brought into the door and received us very cordially. I must that intimate relation to him, which made it not confess that my first impression was one of disapunfitting that I should attempt this pious duty of pointment, for his busts and pictures had given me commemorating duly his life and death. During the idea of a man nearly six feet high, rather that winter of sorrow and sadness to my household, stoutly built, and erect as an arrow. Instead of he was my family physician. From day to day, this there stood before me a man of middle height, and week to week, and month to month, (though his once robust frame and limbs meagre with age, much occupied by his preparations to commence the and his head drooping and shoulders bowed unestablishment at Murray Hill, which has since been der the weight of more that fourscore summers. removed to this place,) he was the constant attend- Behind him stood a hale, rosy-complexioned proant upon a little sufferer, whose case threatened to fessor from Bonn, some forty years of age, and at baffle the united efforts of skill and watchfulness. first my eye fell on him as the person more nearly Just when the crisis in the case seemed at hand, it approaching my ideal of Humboldt; but a single pleased GOD to send upon another object of love in glance convinced me that he had not yet lived his that afflicted house a more sudden and malignant half century. This ideal is the one common to all disease, which ran its rapid course with fearful vio- the world who have not seen Humboldt, for everylence. Never shall I forget the punctual return, body that has seen him seems to delight in repeatat shorter and shorter intervals, of his gentle step, ing that age has not touched his noble faculties or to that chamber of sorrow, where death was rudely abated his bodily vigor. It is very natural to us to essaying to break in. Never shall I cease to re-excuse our own want of acquirements by attributing member with grateful love, how, throughout that supernatural qualities to those who excel us so far last, long night of nature's agony, he seemed, by as to be unapproachable. But in the case of Humevery look, to say "I feel for you; I feel with boldt the miraculous escape from the effects of age you; but remember, your child is God's, not does not exist. He appears as old as he really is, yours." As one among many, I feel in duty but in a fine state of preservation-the result of bound to commemorate, with gratitude to God, constant temperance and active exercise in the open from whose grace they flowed, the tender humanity air from youth, and of carefully avoiding all unand unaffected piety of JAMES MACDONALD. necessary exposure, and all extreme emotions, but, at the same time, cultivating his affections and the genial part of his nature.
From the Commercial Advertiser.
A VISIT TO HUMBOLDT.
Berlin, Jan. 1, 1850. It has been my good fortune to see the patriarch of modern science, the venerable Alexander Von Humboldt. During the summer, and in fact up to last week, he resided at Potsdam, in the royal palace; when the king removed to Charlottenburg he returned to his own residence in Berlin. One of his friends, to whom I am already indebted for many kindnesses, offered to present me to him, and wrote a note to solicit an interview. This is necessary, as casual visitors are rarely or never admitted. The first post of the next morning brought the answer, written evidently before daybreak, and mailed before seven o'clock. It fixed the hour at one o'clock on the 29th. But on that day a second note informed us that Mr. Humboldt was unexpectedly called to attend some court ceremony at the appointed hour, and so begged us to defer our visit antil the 30th, at the same hour. I mention this as an illustration of his attention to small things. He does not consider himself exempted from the performance of all the minor duties of social intercourse. Exactly at the appointed hour we were at his door. The house is plain and comfortable, just like the other three-story houses of Berlin in its dull, clay-yellow color. The entrance is by a large carriage door, persons driving in and descending at the foot of the stairway.
Humboldt occupies the second floor. A tall, well-fed servant in livery answered the bell, and ushered us into a small ante-room, where we laid aside our cloaks and hats, and waited until our visit should be announced. We had scarcely time to see that a large picture on wood, after the old
He commenced the conversation in English, with an apology for his imperfect style, and spoke in that language during the greater part of the interview. Truth requires me to say that Mr. Humboldt knows, far better than his too hasty admirers, his proficiency in that language. Contrary to the assertion generally made so loosely, I must agree with him that he does not speak it perfectly, though well, and with great fluency. A foreign accent made his English less intelligible than his French, which he speaks elegantly, and like a native. In speaking of the French savant, Nicolet, he adopted that language, and his wit and playful humor appeared in a very favorable light. Here for the first time I recognized the literary artist whose taste and genius have won undying renown, and, in the quiet satire and richness of the style, that inimitable power of word-painting and felicity of expression which make the pages of his hundred books so fascinating. I felt now the charm of that eloquence which has convinced so many that age has not affected the philosopher either physically or mentally. It was indeed surprising; there was all the fire and spirit of thirty on the lips of the man of fourscore. He sat generally with his head slightly bowed on his breast, but when he became interested would raise it and look on his visitors, while a warm and genial smile would play across his features. He has the expression of a man of great goodness of heart, without weakness, and the polished and simple manner of a veteran courtier, There is nothing flabby about the face, the flesh being firm and solid. His head is not remarkable for size, but the forehead is high and smooth, without the protuberances which phrenologists usually assign to the perceptive organs of such men. It
is, I should say, a head of remarkably harmonious aware that he had put his name in the last volume development, and not singular in its appearance, of the recent edition of the work, The Aspects of unless it be a singularity that it is not yet bald, but Nature. This is in connection with the account of covered with long thin white hair.
the captain's visit to Popocatapet). He then showed The conversation ran on numerous topics. He us the English translation of this work, by Mrs; had just received a copy of a pamphlet published Sabine. by one of our astronomers, Mr. G., in which Sir The name of Colonel Fremont happening to be John Herschel is attacked. This he regretted, and mentioned, Humboldt spoke in high praise of his made some remarks on the favorable opinion Her- contributions to geographical science, and thought schel had always had of America and her scientific it unfortunate he had returned as a prisoner by the
He inquired with interest after Mr. Bache very road which he had travelled as an explorer. and his progress in the survey of our coasts, and He thought the day would come when Col. Freseemed quite familiar with the state of feeling his mont's works would be much better appreciated appointment had produced among the gentlemen of than at present. He expressed the opinion that
“ The navy officers," he said, “al- the probable produce of the California gold mines ways object to an appointment of that kind when had been over-estimated, for that up to the present not made from their own number, no matter how time the yield had been much less than that of the competent and efficient the person may be.” Speak- Russian mines, the latter having often produced ing of Professor Agassiz, he said, “You Ameri- annually thirty millions of dollars. No such large cans have made a fine acquisition there. Agassiz pieces had been found in California. One solid would be distinguished, even in Europe, for his piece of eighty pounds had been found in Russia, attainments in various branches of natural history. and many of forty, thirty, twenty and sixteen. He Perhaps he is a little too unbending in his theory was surprised that no platina had yet been found. of the effect of glaciers on the change of the gen- These are only a few of the remarks made in a coneral climate of the world. However, he has thrown versation which he, of course, conducted almost a great deal of light on that subject, having made without remarks on our side. He seems to have personally many very excellent experiments and an inexhaustible store of facts, and to be accurately observations." The mention of glaciers led natu- informed about everything and everybody. His rally to that of persons who had observed them, friend said, after we came away, that the way to and of exploring voyages to the north. One of hear him to the greatest advantage was to ask his us asked his opinion as to the fate of Franklin. opinion on any given point, when his wonderful He thought it quite probable that Franklin had not knowledge would be brought to bear on it in a perished, but was still shut in by the ice, and gave manner most satisfactory to any sceptic as to the several facts of voyagers whom he had seen, and extent and minuteness of his information. We who had been for long seasons so detained in the left, quite charmed with the noble and genial nature northern seas. The Esquimaux of the coast, whose richness has made it the glory of the age. he said, were not at all dangerous ; Franklin was The habits of Humboldt are not remarkable, exwell supplied with provisions, and would probably cept in the limited number of hours necessary to yet return to give an account of his voyage. In- sleep, and in temperance and regularity. His time deed, the report that the Esquimaux Indians had is systematically divided. He rises at six in the said that some vessels had long been fast in the ice, winter and five in the summer, studies two hours, away off to the north, seemed to be fully confirmed. drinks a cup of coffee, returns to his study, and com
He praised the United States for its generous mences the task of answering his letters, of which initiative in matters of science, and said that the he receives yearly more that one hundred thousand. expedition to Chili, for scientific purposes, would (I have heard this number doubled, but dislike to noi have been undertaken by any country in Europe. seem to exaggerate.) From twelve until two he He had on the desk near him a letter, which he receives visits, and returns to work at two. At had apparently been reading when we came in. four he dines, in summer with the king, in the His eyes falling on it, he asked, “ Do either of winter at home ; from four until eleven he passes at you know a Lord K., who is now travelling on the table, and generally in company with the king, the continent ?" On the reply that we had not the but sometimes at meetings of learned societies or honor of his lordship's acquaintance, and indeed in the company of his friends. At eleven he rehad never heard of him, he said he had just re- tires to his study and continues there until one or ceived the most extraordinary letter from him. two, answering letters, or writing his works, or pre“ He writes me from Dresden that he will shortly paring them by study. His best books have all be in Berlin, and will be most happy to make my been written at midnight. He sleeps four hours, acquaintance, and that I must certainly dine with it having always been a peculiarity in his family to him and a few friends at two o'clock on the 3d, at require little sleep. Now, if anybody thinks that the British Hotel. He expects an old man like me by sleeping only four hours, and studying at midto come in from Potsdam in the middle of winter night, he may equal Humboldt in varied attainments, to dine with a lord whom I know nothing about. let him first be sure that he possesses another of
This is one of the antics of an eccentric class.” Humboldt's peculiarities, namely, genius.
"' + do."
of every kind. If he had not been a savant, he They filled a Clarence cab might have been an artist or a poet, for his works With valiant men in drab, show taste and imagination of the most exquisite And off to the Albany packed, packed, packed perfection. Most of his writings will compare in
The historian unscared, elegance with the purest classics of Germany. In short, he is one of the most harmoniously developed Stood there with papers bared. ana a grin, gria
Primed, loaded, and prepared, characters the world has ever seen, and posterity will reserve for him a higher niche in the temple
When, prepared his facts to floor, of fame than for the bloody heroes who have dazzled the world for a moment by their engineer
They knocked at his door, talent of manœuvring masses of troops.
And were most politely asked to walk in, in, in
Then their batteries they let fly,
But Macaulay, in reply,
At their heads he did shy such a hail, hail, hail; We presume, from the following waggery of From memory and from note, Punch, that some of the English Quakers have been Of reading and of rote, remonstrating with the historian on his portraiture There was nought he did n't quote, fresh er stale, of Penn.
Not a single “ thee” or “thou"
Could they put in, I vow, You ’re fast, as with a hook, for volumes two, two, But he countered, where and how they scarce two,
knew, knew, knew;
Till, faint and flabbergast,
They backed-backed—and at last Like something 'twixt a donkey and a “ do," Unquakerishly fast down stairs they flew, flex, “ do,"
And, sad as their own drab,
Mounted ruefully their cab, When for toys and trash their land red men sold, By the gift of the gab overborne, bore, borne ; sold, sold;
And, all Piccadilly through,
In their faces plain to view,
66 Lo! we went for wool and came back Since with Pennsylvanian bonds was bought our
shorn, shorn, shorn."
Then, worthy Friends, take heed,
When next a truth you read,
Though unpleasant, 't is agreed, to your pride, Such as wearing garments sad, and a broad brim,
pride, pride ;
Don't suppose it can't be true,
Since it hits at one of you,
But vexation in humility pray hide, hide, hide. Though the king politely took off his to him, him, him.
WHAT MAKES A HERO ?
BY HENRY TAYLOR, AUTHOR OF
What makes a hero?-not success, not fame,
Inebriate merchants, and the loud acclaim
Of glutted avarice-caps tossed up in air, And he carried heavy bribes and light tales, tales, Or pen of journalist, with flourish fair, tales.
Bells pealed, stars, ribands, and a titular name Thus Macaulay did arise,
These, though his rightful tribute, he can spare : Having not before his eyes
His rightful tribute, not his end or aim,
Or true reward; for never yet did these
What makes a hero ?-An heroic mind,
Expressed in action, in endurance proved ;
And if there be preeminence of right, grab.
Derived through pain, well suffered, to the height That his brims they were so broad,
Of rank heroic, 't is to bear unmoved,
Not toil, not risk, not rage of sea or wind,
Not the brute fury of barbarians blind,
But worse-ingratitude and poisonous darts, lace, lace,
Launched by the country he had served and loved.
This, with a free, unclouded spirit pure,
This in the strength of silence to endure,
Beyond the gauds and trappings of renown;
This is the hero's complement and crown;
This missed, one struggle had been wanting still For Macaulay pledged his troth to the fact, fact, One glorious triumph of the heroic will, fact
One self-approval in his heart of hearts.
PHILIP VOX ARTS