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necticut, and Moore of New-York, with good him in great loss. He had determined, about old Dr. Bowden, and Dr. Hawks, my friends the year 1801, to give the Christian commuDrs. Berrian and McVicker of Columbia Col-nity an octavo edition, in large type, of the lege, and the energetic Bishop Hobart, the | busiest and most stirring man I ever knew. The Messrs. Swords were largely occupied in printing works on divinity, and were confessed the printers of sound orthodoxy long before "the novelties which disturb our peace" had invoked polemical controversy.

Book of Common Prayer, the first of that size from an American press. To secure the utmost accuracy, he engaged, for a pecuniary consideration, the Rev. John Ireland, of Brooklyn, to revise the proofs. When the sheets were worked off, it was ascertained that the copy was an exact reprint, save in one particular. The critical acumen of Ireland had discovered, in the Apostles' Creed,

I should do injustice to my feelings were I in this rapid sketch to overlook the late James Eastburn, the founder of the first reading-a "tautological error," in the words, " from room on a becoming scale, in this country, thence he shall come." The word "from" and the publisher of the American edition of was superfluous, ungrammatical, and inelethe Edinburgh and London Quarterly Reviews. gant, according to Ireland, and, accordingly, He was a gentleman deserving of much esti- it was not in Kirk's edition. Upon the sale mation, of bland manners, and enthusiastic in of a few copies the omission was remarked; his calling. He was curious in antiquarian the fact became known to the bishop of the literature and a great importer of the older church; the book was pronounced defective, authors. Many are the libraries enriched by and the ecclesiastical authorities prohibited his perseverance. Consumption wasted his its circulation. The whole edition fell a dead generous frame, and he died at a compara-weight upon the hands of the well-meaning tively early age, to the deep regret of the scholar and the philanthropist.

publisher. I had this anecdote from Mr. Kirk himself, years ago, and he repeated it to ine I should like, before I close this portion of not long prior to his death, in last November. these reminiscences, to awaken recollections This allusion to Kirk brings to my mind of one or two other estimable individuals the notorious John Williams, better known with whom I was long acquainted-George as Anthony Pasquin, under which name he F. Hopkins and Jonathan Seymour. Hopkins merits a biography; he justly boasted that his edition of Robertson's Charles V. was the most accurately printed work of the time. He was fastidious almost to a fault in

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was doomed to everlasting infamy by Gifford, in his satire of the Baviad and Maviad, in judgments afterwards confirmed in a celebrated trial for libel in which the famous Erskine delivered one of his best forensic typographical neatness. He printed only speeches. Williams was the associate in works of positive merit. His enterprise led London of a small but ambitious set of muhim, now fifty years ago, to urge the craft to tual admirers in literature, of whom Mr. render themselves independent of imported Merry and his future wife were the "Della types, by establishing type-foundries in the Crusca" and "Rosa Matilda," and all three country. There were few indeed among us of these worthies came to New-York about who knew practically much about the founts the year 1798. I have an impression that of Caslon, the Coryphæus of letter-founders. Kirk came at the same time. The character The Scotch hard-faced letter was then ex- of Williams was infamous, and a large share of tensively in use. Hopkins induced the immi- his infamy consisted in his ministering to, if gration to this country of the famous Binney not creating, the passion for personal scandal, and Ronaldson, whose great skill in the art and setting the example of black-mail collecwas soon recognized, and from that era up tions, in newspapers. In the report of the to the present day competent judges affirin great case of Williams vs. Faulder, it is said that our Bruce, White, Conner, and others, of his paper, called The World, that "In have accomplished all that is requisite in the this were given the earliest specimens of type-founding business. Of Jonathan Sey- those unqualified and audacious attacks on mour, it is enough to say, that at one period all private character which the town first of his life he was more largely engaged than smiled at for their quaintness, then tolerated any of his rivals in printing from manuscripts for their absurdity and will have to lament -so well known and appreciated was his de- to the last hour of British liberty." After votion to his calling, and the accuracy of its he came to this country he associated himresults. In his death, the art lost one who self with the enemies of Hamilton, and pubhad given it elevation, and society a man pos-lished a satire called The Hamiltoniad, sessed of the qualities of industry, temperance, honesty, and Christian philanthropy in the fullest measure.

Within a few days has departed from among us, at the age of eighty years, a supporter of the press who long contributed to the diffusion of wholesome knowledge. I allude to Thomas Kirk. I shall terminate these notices by a striking occurrence, which involved

edited a magazine entitled The Columbian, and was a pioneer in that species of journalism which still subsists here upon the most scandalous invasions of private life and reputation. He was doubly detestable, in that he was the corruptor and worst specimen of the editorial calling in Europe and in America. I remember frequently seeing Williams, in the latter part of his life, in his shabby pep

per and-salt dress, in the obscure parts of the city. I believe he died during the first prevalence of the cholera in Brooklyn. Fancy may depict his expression as illustrating Otway's lines, "as if all hell were in his eyes, and he in hell." It must not be supposed that I in any degree associate the fame of the worthy Kirk with that of this literary vagabond.

To a suggestion that I might refer to the late William Cobbett, as associated with the periodical press of this country, I may say that I see in it no impropriety. Unquestionably a minute record would include his Porcupine Gazette and his Weekly Register; the one an offspring of his juvenile life, the other of his ripened years. I had some personal acquaintance with him at the time of his last residence in New-York. Hazlitt has, in his attractive manner, described him to the life. He was deemed the best talker of his day, and his forcible pen has given us indubitable proofs of his powers in literary composition. It was not unusual with him to make a visit to the printing office at an early morning hour, take his seat at the desk, and after some half dozen lines were written, to throw off MSS. with a rapidity that engaged eleven compositors at once in setting up. Thus a whole sheet of the Register might be completed ere he desisted from his undertaking. I think that in quickness he surpassed even the lamented William Leggett, of the Erening Post. The circumstance is certainly interesting in a psychological point of view; and yet may not be deemed more curious than the fact that Priestley made his reply to Lind, quite a voluminous pamphlet, in twenty-four hours, or that Hodgkinson, the actor, was able to peruse crosswise, the entire five columns of a newspaper, and within two hours recite it thus by memory. I visited Cobbett, when his residence was within a couple of miles of this city, in company with a few professional gentlemen. It was in October, and a delightful day. He heard our approach, and came to the door without our knocking. "Walk in, gentlemen-am I to consider this as a visit to me?-walk in and be seated on these benches, for I have no chairs-you may be fatigued-will you have a bowl of milk? I live upon milk and Indian corn--I never drink spirit or wine, and yet I am a tolerable example of English health." And, indeed, he was a most ample specimen of the genuine John Bull. His nearly oval face, and florid countenance, with strong gray piercing eyes and head thickly covered with white hair, closely trimmed; his huge frame, of some two hundred and seventy pounds weight, corresponding abdominal development, and well-proportioned limbs, all demonstrated, with anatomical accuracy, the truth of his observation. His superior intellect seemed roused in all its functions. The United States, England, the reform measures, the union of church and state, and its absurdity, were only a few of the subjects of his caustic remark. "I have just

performed a duty, gentlemen, which has been too long delayed; you have neglected the remains of Thomas Paine; I have done myself the honor to disinter his bones; I have removed them from New Rochelle; I have dug them up; they are now on their way to England; when I return, I shall cause them to speak the Common Sense of the great man; I shall gather together the people of Liverpool and Manchester in one assembly with those of London, and those bones will effect the reformation of England in Church and State." After some two or three hours we took our leave, with unlimited admiration of his brave utterance and his colloquial talents.

With such a hastily written and imperfect sketch of the newspaper periodical press, of printers, editors, booksellers, and authors, I must close this portion of my present reminiscences. I have depended on a memory somewhat tenacious as my authority, in most instances, having no leisure at command for reference. A volume might be written of pertinent details. Nevertheless, enough has been said to illustrate, in part, the advancement of one species of knowledge in this metropolis. Did we institute a comparative view of the past and present condition of the press, we might be better enabled to announce the existing condition of our city as a Literary Emporium. That it is in accordance with the spirit of the age, seems demonstrable. Abroad, in England, in 1701, when the stamp duty was levied upon every number of a periodical paper consisting of a sheet, the whole quantity of printed paper was estimated at twenty thousand reams annually. Nearly at this period (1704), when the Boston News Letter made its appearance in the American colonies, some two or three hundred copies weekly may have been its circulation. What is the quantity of paper demanded by the present British periodical press, I am unable to state. In this month of January, 1852, it is calculated that there are about three thousand different newspapers and other periodicals printed in this country, the entire issues of which approach the yearly aggregate of four hundred and twenty-three millions of numbers.

When Franklin was a printer it was a hard task to work off over a thousand sheets on both sides in a day, by the hand press. Since his time we have had the Clymer, the Napier, the Ramage, the Adams, and now Hoe's Lightning press. By this last-named achievement in the arts, so honorable to a son of New-York, and so stupendous in its results to the world at large, twenty thousand papers may be printed in one hour.

If we advert to the instructive fact, of the enormous circulation of many of the journals of New-York, as the Herald, the Sun, the Tribune, the Times, the Express, the Mirror, and others issued daily; if we calculate the copies of the Observer, the Home Journal, the Christian Advocate, and others

of the weekly press; the circulation of the the community a noble estimation of promonthly and other periodicals; if we look at ductive intellect. Instead of a scattered rethe Methodist Book Concern, the Tract Soci-cruit here and there in the ranks of literaety, the American Bible Society, the publica- ture, we have armies at command, of welltions of the Appletons, of Putnam, and of the disciplined men; and the belief is not altoenterprising booksellers of this city generally, gether idle that, in due season, of these armies what bounds can we set to the offspring of there will be legions. Lovesick tales and Della the typographic art? The Herald and the Cruscan poetry, have yielded to stately essays Tribune in their distinct circulation, consume on the business of life, in philosophy and in critan aggregate of fifty thousand reams per icism, while the native muse has often stronger year. The Harpers, who have thrown John claims to our homage than the verses Dr. JohnBaskerville, and other eminent typographers son has embalmed, and that have made the of Europe in the shade by the magnitude of fame of ancient bards. We no longer gaze at their operations, use one hundred reams of the author as a drone in the hive of industry. paper daily, at six dollars per ream, and make about ten volumes a minute or six thousand a day. On a former occasion I stated to you the agency which Franklin had in bringing forward stereotype plates, as projected by Dr. Colden, in this city, in 1779, and the fact that the art was communicated to Didot in Paris, by Franklin himself. I well remember the anxious John Watts, when he showed me his first undertaking in this branch of labor in New-York, just forty years ago. It was a copy of the Larger Catechism, the one I now hold in my hand. Notwithstanding the doubts of many, he felt confident of its ultimate success, yet suffered by hope deferred. What is now the state of the business in the matter of stereotyping? The Harpers alone -a single firm--have within their vaults plates for more than two thousand volumes.

Our youth are taught that a true man may be found among the luxurious and refined as well in the humble avocations of life. Ambitious of a national literature, we honor those who have laid its foundations, in the persons of an Irving, a Prescott, and a Bancroft, a Longfellow, and a Hawthorne. We gratefully remember our historical obligations to Sparks. We feel the dignity of the scholar when we summon to our aid the classical Everett. Mourning with no feigned sorrow the demise of that true son of our soil, the lamented Cooper, we rejoice that a Bryant and a Halleck, a Verplanck and a Paulding, are still left with us. Warm in our feelings, and made happier by the relations of intercourse, we extend the cordial hand to Tuckerman, our classical essayist and poet; to Willis, for his felicitous comments on passing Need I dwell on the improved appliances events; to Griswold, for his admirable works in the great art, which enrich the present in criticism and biography; to Dr. Mayo, for day, or on the influences now at work on his Kaloolah; to Stoddard, for his exquisite the intellectual man? Justly has it been poems; to the generous Bethune, the orator stated, that the press of a single office in this and bard; to Morris, for his Melodies; to Kimcity issues more matter than the industry of ball, for his St. Leger Papers; to Clark, for the world, with all its scribes and illumina- his Knickerbocker; to Melville, for Typee; tors, in an entire year, previous the time of to Ik. Marvell, for his Reveries; to Ripley, Faust. Let us, then, reverence the press, as for his fine reviews; to Bigelow, for his book our Franklin did. Let us cherish its free-on Jamaica; to Bayard Taylor, for his Views dom, as the triumph of our fathers, if we love the name of patriot. Let us teach our children to acknowledge it the palladium of our altars and our firesides. Let us recognize it as the Great Instructor, knocking at every door, and rendering every hovel, as well as every palace, a school-house.

A-Foot; to Greeley, for his Crystal Palace labors; and to Duyckinck, the son of our old friend, the bookseller, for his Literary World. In the name of the Republic, we give our heartiest thanks to our intimate friend, the learned Dr. Cogswell, as we look at the spacious walls of the Astor Library.

Nor is it solely on the score of quantity, The very great length to which I have that we are to contemplate the measures now unconsciously extended these reminiscences, in force for the disciplining of intellect, and forbids me from dwelling, as my heart and the rearing the moral edifice of the nation. your wishes dictate, upon the most glorious I have already remarked on the superior name in American Printing, the immortal ability of the press of our days in comparison Franklin's. His character and deeds, howwith that of the period through which some ever, are familiar to you all; and the language of us have lived. The same energy which of eulogy is needless in regard to one whose has swelled its dimensions, has increased the fame increases with time, and whose transexcellence of its material. Libraries so cendent merits, the constant development of abound, knowledge is so diffused, that indi- that element he brought under human doviduals qualified by scholastic powers, can be minion render daily more evident and mecalled in requisition for the duties of every morable. It is related, gentlemen, that when department a successful journal demands. the statues of the Roman Emperors were There is moreover a happier recognition of carried in a triumphal procession, one was intellectual merit; reward is higher and omitted, and the name of that one was shoutmore certain; and there exists throughouted with more zeal than all the others inspired.

So I know it to be with us to-night. The memory of Franklin is too ripe in our hearts to require words; it is a spell that sheds eternal glory on the typographical art;

it is the best encouragement of youthful energy; it is revealed in every telegraphic despatch; it hallows the name of our country to the civilized world.

Partes Amice.

OF TIPSY DROLLERY, a correspondent of DES CARTES fought at the siege of Rochelle, the Evening Post (Mr. Bryant himself, we and ofter a variety of adventures, established have no doubt), writes: "It is esteemed a himself in Holland, where he composed most mark of a vulgar mind, to divert one's self at of his works. These abound in singular the expense of a drunken man; yet we allow theories and curious speculations, and their ourselves to be amused with representations spirit of independence aroused the same spirit of drunkenness on the stage and in comic wherever they were read. Scholars and thenarratives. Nobody is ashamed to laugh at ologians vied with each other in battling the Cassio in the play of Othello, when he has new opinions. The followers of Aristotle and put an enemy into his mouth to steal away the followers of Locke arrayed themselves his brains. The personation which the elder against him. His novelties even drew the Wallack used to give us some years ago, of attention of women from their fashions. “The Dick Dashall, very drunk, but very gentle- ladies of quality here, of late," says a writer manly, was one of the most irresistibly comic from Paris, in 1642, "addict themselves to things ever known. I have a mind to give the study of philosophy, as the men; the layou a translation of a German ballad on a dies esteeming their education defective, if tipsy man, which has been set to music, and they cannot confute Aristotle and his disciis often sung in Germany; it is rather droll ples. The pen has almost supplanted the exin the original, and perhaps it has not lost all of its humor in being overset, as they call it, into English. Here it is:

OUT OF THE TAVERN, ETC.
OUT of the tavern I've just stepped to-night
Street! you are caught in a very bad plight.
Right hand and left hand are both out of place;
Street, you are drunk, 'tis a very clear case.

Moon, 'tis a very queer figure you cut;
One eye is staring while t other is shut.
Tipsy, I see; and you re greatly to blame;
Old as you are 'tis a terrible shame.

Then the street lamps, what a scandalous sight!
None of them soberly standing upright.
Rocking and staggering; why, on my word,
Each of the lamps is drunk as a lord.

All is confusion; now isn't it odd?

I am the only thing sober abroad.

Sure it were rash with this crew to remain,

Better go into the tavern again.

This is parodied or stolen by the clever author of the Bon Gaultier Ballads, in one of his best pieces.

ercise of the needle; and ladies' closets, formerly the shops of female baubles, toys, and vanities, are now turned to libraries and sanctuaries of learned works. There is a new star risen in the French horizon, whose influence excites the nobler females to this pursuit of human science. It is the renowned Monsieur Des Cartes, whose lustre far outshines the aged winking tapers of Peripatetic Philosophy, and has eclipsed the stagyrite, with all the ancient lights of Greece and Rome. 'Tis this matchless soul has drawn so many of the fairer sex to the schools. And they are more proud of the title-Cartesian-and of the capacity to defend his principles, than of their noble birth and blood.”

of the last Century, by Henry Swinburne, the We find in The Courts of Europe at the Close following illustration of American manners: "An English officer, Colonel A-, was traTHE famous Quaker ANTHONY BENEZET, velling in a stage to New-York, and was extremewas accustomed to feed the rats in the area ly annoyed by a free and enlightened citizen's before his house in Philadelphia. An old perpetually spitting across him, out of the window. friend who found him so engaged, expressed He bore it patiently for some time, till at last he some surprise that he so kindly treated such ventured to remonstrate, when the other said, pernicious vermin, saying, "They should rath-Why, colonel, I estimate you're a-poking fun at er be killed and out of the way." "Nay," me-that I do. Now. I'm not a-going to chaw my said good Anthony, "I will not treat them own bilge-water, not for no man. Besides, you so; thou wouldst make them thieves by mal- need not look so thundering ugly. Why, I've treating and starving them, but I make them practised all my life, and could squirt through the honest by feeding them, for being so fed, they eye of a needle without touching the steel, let never prey upon any goods of mine." This alone such a great saliva-box as that there window. Colonel A- remained tranquil for some time singular fact is very characteristic. When feedat last his anger got up, and he spat bang in his ing rats, the benevolent philosopher used to stand in the area, and they would gather sand pardons, squire, but I've not practised as companion's face, exclaiming, I beg you a thouround his feet like chickens. One of the much as you have. No doubt, by the time we family once hung a collar about one of them, reach New-York, I shall be as great a dabster as which was seen for years after, feeding in you are.' The other rubbed his eye, and remained the group. bouche close.

IN support of the hydropathic practice, and in illustration of the effect of cold, we cite an anecdote MIGNET tells of the celebrated French physician Broussais:

"Seized with a violeht fever at Nimèguen, Broussais was attended by two of his friends, who each prescribed opposite remedies. Embarrassed by such contradictory opinions, he resolved to follow neither. Believing himself to be seriously in danger, he jumped out of bed in the midst of this raging fever, and almost naked sat down to his escrutoire to arrange his papers. It was in the month of January; the streets were covered with snow. While thus settling his affairs the fever abated, a sensation of freshness and comfort diffused itself throughout his frame. Amazed at this result, Broussais, like a bold theorist as he was, converted his casual forgetfulness into an experience. He boldly threw open the window, and for some time inspired the cold winter air that blew in upon him. Finding himself greatly benefited, he concluded that cool drink would be as refreshing to his stomach as cold air had been to his body. He deluged his stomach with cold lemonade, and in less than forty-eight hours he was well again!"

The following amusing anecdote is told in a work recently published in London of Tom Cooke, the actor and musician:

"At a trial in the Court of King's Bench, June, 1833, betwixt certain publishing tweedledums and tweedledees, as to the alleged piracy of an arrange ment of the Old English Gentleman, an old English air, by the bye-Cooke was subpoenaed as a witness. On his cross-examination by Sir James Scarlet, afterwards Lord Abinger, for the opposite side, that learned counsel rather flippantly questioned him thus: 'Now, sir, you say that the two melodies are the same, but different; now what do you mean by that, sir? To this Tom promptly answered, 'I said that the notes in the two copies were alike, but with a different accent, the one being in common time, the other in sixth-eight time; and, consequently, the position of the accented notes was different.' Sir James- What is musical accent? Cooke-My terms are a guinea a lesson, sir.' (A loud laugh.) Sir James (rather ruffled)-Never mind your terms here. I ask you what is musical accent. Can you see it? Cooke 'No.' Sir James-Can you feel it? Cooke A musician can.' (Great laughter) Sir James (very angry)-Now, pray sir, don't beat about the bush, but explain to his lordship and the jury, who are supposed to know nothing about music, the meaning of what you call accent.' Cooke

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Accent in music, is a certain stress laid upon a particular note, in the same manner as you would lay a stress upon any given word for the purpose of being better understood. Thus, if I were to say, 'You are an ass-it rests on ass; but if I were to say, You are an ass-it rests on you, Sir James' Reiterated shouts of laughter by the whole court, in which the bench itself joined, followed this repartee. Silence having been at length obtained, the Judge, with much seeming gravity, accosted the chop-fallen counsel thus: Lord Denman- Are you satisfied, Sir James? Sir James (deep red as he naturally was, to use poor Jack Reeve's own words, had become scarlet in more than name), in a great huff, said, 'The witness may go down!"

A PORTUGUESE paper gives some statistics which could only be obtained under the spy and secret police system. There are said to be in Portugal 872,634 married couples, of which the present condition is very nearly as follows:-"Women who have left their husbands for their lovers, 1,262. Husbands who have left their wives for other women, 2,561. Couples who have agreed to live separately, 33,120. Couples who live in open warfare, under the saine roof, 13,263. Couples who cordially hate each other, but dissemble their aversion under the appearance of love, 162,320. Couples who live in a state of tranquil indifference, 510,132. Couples who are thought by their acquaintances to be happy, but are not themselves convinced of their own felicity, 1,102. Couples that are happy as compared with those that are confessedly unhappy, 131. Couples indisputably happy in each other, 0. Total, 872,634."

THE first duel in New England, was fought with sword and dagger, between two servants. Neither of them was killed, but both were wounded. For this disgraceful offence, they were formally tried before the whole company (the first settlers), and sentenced to have their "heads and feet tied together, and so to be twenty-four hours, without meat or drink." Their bravery all exploded in a little while, and they plead piteously to be released, which was finally done by the Governor on their promising better behavior. "Such "and such, was the origin," says Dr. Morse, I may almost venture to say, was the termination of the odious practice of duelling in New England, for there have been very few fought there since."

We are told by Ariosto of a warrior who was so happily gifted that when his arms, his legs, or even his head, happened to be chopped off in battle, he could jump down from his horse and replace the dissevered member. Many modern humbugs are of this description; they are real polipi; chop them into a thousand pieces, and each piece will start up as brisk and as lively as ever. Metaphysical humbugs are the most difficult kind to deal with. Contending with them is like wrestling with spectres; there is not substance enough to catch hold of.

The

LATELY, at a sitting of the Norwegian legislature at Christiana, a petition was presented from the world-known fiddler, Ole Bull, in which he solicited the creation of a national theatre in that town, to receive a subvention from the government, and to which a dramatic school was to be attached. Assembly voted that the petition should be taken into consideration, and appointed a committee to draw up a report on it. M. Bull has already founded, at his own cost, a theatre in his native town, Bergen. M. Bull visits this country now in search only of pleasure.

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