himself! Why, sir, Grattan is a great man. Sir, the torture could not wring a syllable of self-praise from Grattan; a team of six horses could not drag an opinion of himself out of him. Like all great men, he knows the strength of his reputation, and will never condescend to proclaim its march, like the trumpeter of a puppet-show. Sir, he stands on a national altar, and it is the business of us inferior men to keep up the fire and incense. You will never see Grattan stooping to do either the one or the other.' Curran objected to Byron's talking of himself as a great drawback on his poetry. Any subject,' he said, 'but that eternal one of self. I am weary of knowing once a month the state of any man's hopes or fears, rights or wrongs. I would as soon read a register of the weather, the barometer up to so many inches to-day, and down so many inches to-morrow. I feel skepticism all over me at the sight of agonies on paper; things that come as regular and notorious as the full of the moon. The truth is, his lordship weeps for the press, and wipes his eyes with the public."

THE QUARRELS OF RELIGIOUS JOURNALS are attracting the notice of the secular press, and the rebukes administered are in many instances truthfully severe. The Springfield Journal propounds some queries on the subject which we may copy, perhaps, without giving offense; and which, it seems to us, all editors of professedly religious papers may profitably ponder:

"We sit at the editorial table, and take up a religious newspaper. The first article which strikes the eye is controversial-nay, worse-personal. One professed Christian is pitching into another, questioning his candor and truthfulness, and endeavoring, with might and main, to become a personal victor over his brother, the point in difference having no special importance with the public. We take up another religious newspaper, and we find it upholding a bigot who refuses the use of his pulpit to one whose blameless life, and noble genius, and gentle good fellowship win the love of every man with whom he is brought into association, because his sectarian affiliations are not identical with those of the editor. . . . At this moment, a mail comes in. The first document we take from the pile is an Address on the state of Knox College, delivered by Rev. Edward Beecher, D.D., before the citizens of Galesburg, Ill.' It occupies, with its shameful story, sixteen newspaper columns, showing how the college has literally been rent in pieces by movements having their basis in a sectarian strife between Presbyterians and Congregationalists, If the address be true, nothing less than rascality has been at work there, rooting out President Blanchard, grieving and disgusting the students, ruining the hopes and thwarting the aims of a hundred Christian families who had come in to educate their children. . . .

"As these things followed one another, the exclamation sprang unbidden to our lips: How long? How long shall Christian men quarrel in the name of Christianity? How long shall partisan feeling in the Christian church disgust the world with Christians and with their religion? How long shall religious newspapers engage their most powerful efforts in personal attacks, or disputes upon points of little practical importance to the world?.... How long shall the Jesuit point to the conflicts, growing out of 'private judgment,' between sects that are counted by fifties, as his comment on the sin of forsaking the infallible rule of Rome? How long shall the world repel the appeals of the real Christian by referring him to such fruits and developments of Christianity as are represented in the cases we have cited?. How long

in fuc simile for the Homes of American Authors. It is dated

"NAHANT, July 9, 1852.

"MY DEAR SIR,-As you desire, I send you a specimen of my autograph. It is the concluding page of one of the chapters of the Conquest of Peru, book iii, clap. 3. The writing is not, as you may imagine, made by a pencil, but is indelible, being made with an apparatus used by the blind. It is a very simple affair, consisting of a frame of the size of a common sheet of letter-paper, with brass wires inserted in it to correspond with the number of lines wanted. On one side of this frame is pasted a leaf of thin carbonated paper, such as is used to obtain duplicates. Instead of a pen the writer makes use of a stylus of ivory, or agate, the last better or harder. The great difficulties in the way of a blind man's writing in the usual manner, arise from his not knowing when his ink is exhausted in his pen and his lines run into one another. Both difficulties are obviated by this simple writingcase, which enables one to do his work as well in the dark as in the light. Though my trouble is not blindness, but a disorder of the nerve of the eye, the effect, as far as this is concerned, is the same, and I am wholly incapacitated from writing in the ordinary way. In this manner I have written every word of my historicals. This modus operandi exposes one to some embarrassments; for, as one cannot see what he is doing on the other side of the paper, any more than a performer in the treadmill sees what he is grinding on the other side of the wall, it becomes very difficult te make corrections. This requires the subject to be pretty thoroughly canvassed in the mind, and all the blots and erasures to be made there before taking up the pen, or rather the stylus. This compels me to go over my composition to the extent of a whole chapter, however long it may be, several times in my mind before sitting down to my desk. When there the work becomes one of memory rather than of creation, and the writing is apt to run off glibly enough. A letter which I received some years since from the French historian, Thierry, who is totally blind, urged me by all means to cultivate the habit of dictation to which he had resorted; and James, the eminent nov. elist, who has adopted his habits, finds it favorable to facility of composition. But I have been too long accustomed to my own way to change, and, to say the truth, I never dictated a sentence in my life for publication without its falling so flat on my ear that I felt almost ashamed to send it to the press. I suppose it is habit.

"One thing I may add. My manuscript is usually too illegible (I have sent you a favorable specimen) for the press, and it is always fairly copied by an amanuensis before it is consigned to the printer. I have accompanied the autograph with these explanations, which are at your service if you think they will have interest for your readers. My modus operandi has the merit of novelty, at least I never heard of any history monger who has adopted it besides myself. I remain, dear sir, very truly yours,

WM. H. PRESCOTT."

LIFE FROM THE DEAD.-The Newburyport Herald announced, some time ago, the loss of a pilot belonging to that place in the following brief but emphatic sentence:

"All that we know-all that will ever be known, till the ocean shall give up its dead, is that the sturdy man and brave, the useful citizen and valued public officer, has disappeared in the waves."

The same paper of the next day has the fol

PRESCOTT'S MODE OF WRITING.In former numbers of THE NATIONAL much has been said relative to the blind, their ingenuity, and the obstacles overcome by many of them in various mechanic arts. An exceedingly interesting letter accompanied the reply to a request for a page of Mr. Prescott's manuscript to be copied

"THE PILOT RECOVERED.-The day of miracles is past-so it has, and let it go; but so long as Michael Stevens, Jun., shall live, we shall look upon him as one risen from the dead. While we were all lainenting that this worthy man was gone, and the flags had drooped in mourning for the dead; while people were stopping each other at the corners of the streets to talk over the matter, and some were raising a subscription for the benefit of his family; after we had published his obituary, and already had another paragraph writ ten, calling for a material testimonial to aid the widow and orphans-as suddenly as though he had fallen from the heavens above, Captain Stevens, yesterday, at noon, appeared in our streets. Wildly the story goes

about town; speedily he is rushed home to a family mourning his demise; instantly the flags from half mast are run hard up; and gladness is upon all faces, for the lost is found and the dead is alive again.

With the tide of men moving to the south end, we go to greet him and learn his story. Almost immediately after his companions had retired below, as he was standing on the quarter with the spyglass to his eye, the main boom jibed over, striking him in the back of the neck and sweeping him into the sea. Instantly the boat filled away, and sailed off with a six knot breeze. He turned in pursuit; but one hundred yards' swimming satisfied him that that was useless. He halloed; but the noise of the sails, the rushing of the waters, and the intervening decks, shut off all communication. There he was in the midst of the ocean; the boat receding, and no friendly sail in sight; he lay for some time upon the surface, when, by and by, five miles away, a sail appears standing toward him; it is his only hope; a faint hope, but the last. He did not swim to her, but reserved his strength; and when she was within two miles it was evident she was going a long way to the windward.

"He then, cool-0, how can a man be cool with the deep waters below and naught but the deeper heavens above-struck out to head her off. For three quarters of a mile or more he swam for dear life; but now he begins to fail. His legs are already cold and stiff, and hang down deep, the waves breaking to his mouth. 'Tis the last chance; he raises his head and shouts; and a woman-a woman's ears are always open to the cry of distress-says, 'I hear a voice. All hands look around. It is now or never; and as a last effort he stretches himself above the waves and says: I am drowning! They hear; they see. Ease off sheets! up helm! man the boat!' It is done as quick as said, quicker than written. I shall drown,' calls the brave, struggling, but sinking man, before the boat can row.' "The captain turns the craft full upon him, and minus of help, gives the helm to his wife, while with the coil of rope he stands in the bows. The rowers pull strong, but many yards are yet between them and the sinking man, when the vessel's prow came near the spot, and with the captain's call-catch hold,' the rope falls upon his head and is turned around the waist. The rope is paid out, the sails shake in the wind, and in two minutes more-after he had been in the water an hour and a half-the captain and his wife pulled him over the side, helpless, and for a long time clouded and wandering of mind.

"This yacht proved to be the Bloomer, from Salem, Captain Dudley Davis, who was taking his family on a trip to Portland, Me. He rendered Captain Stevens all the assistance needed; landed him in Portland on Sunday; and with the first train that reached here at noon on Monday, he was returned to his family; returned to startle, to gladden, to change! Great God! what a change! The father with three score and ten years upon him; the young wife stricken to the soul; the little children to whom home was gloomy; they can tell; we can't."

per was folded before the ink was dry, and the writing is blotted in many places. The legatees assert that the apostrophe is one of those blots; but the heir-at-law, a legitimate son of the defunct, maintains, on the contrary, that the apostrophe is intentional. This apostrophe is worth, to him, two hundred thousand francs, or eight thousand pounds sterling; and as the learned in the law cannot find in the context any clew to the real intention of the testator, it will be curious to watch the result of the contest.

He

VALUE OF TIME.--When the Roman Emperor said, "I have lost a day," he uttered a sadder truth than if he had exclaimed, "I have lost a kingdom." Napoleón said that the reason why he beat the Austrians was, that they did not know the value of five minutes. At the celebrated battle of Rivoli, the conflict seemed on the point of being decided against him. saw the critical state of affairs, and instantly took his resolution. He dispatched a flag to the Austrian head-quarters, with proposals for an armistice. The unwary Austrians fell into the snare; for a few minutes the thunders of battle were hushed. Napoleon seized the precious moments, and, while amusing the enemy with mock negotiation, re-arranged his line of battle, changed his front, and in a few minutes was ready to renounce the farce of discussion for the stern arbitrament of arms. The splendid victory of Rivoli was the result. The great moral victories and defeats of the world often turn on five minutes. Crises come, the not seizing of which is ruin. Men may loiter, but time flies on the wings of the wind, and all the great interests of life are speeding on, with the sure and silent tread of destiny.

66

ERICSSON'S CALORIC ENGINE.-Mr. Ericsson does not despair of success in applying the new motor." He is said to have built eight small engines, on the hot-air principle, since the experiment with the Ericsson steamship, and to be still engaged in the pursuit of his favorite study. The Scientific American says: He has now floating on the Hudson a small steamer, or air-er, about seventeen feet long, which he has succeeded in driving at a good rate by the combustion of an almost incredibly small quan

mittee, who, in a public manifesto, inform us that they have deliberately determined to disregard the instructions of the society upon the subject. They have gone further, and suppressed a tract which was in course of publica

tion. And all this, because some slaveholders threaten to withhold their sympathies, prayers, and cash, if that particular sin is alluded to in the society's publications.

AN APOSTROPHE WORTH EIGHT THOUSAND POUNDS.-A nice point is said to be likely to occupy the French courts of law. Monsieur de M. died on the 27th of February last, leaving a will, entirely in his own handwriting, which he concludes thus: "And to testify my affection for my nephews Charles and Henri de M., I bequeath to each d'eux [i. e., of them] [or deux, , ., two hundred thousand francs." The pa

gines, horizontal, single acting, and apparently about thirty inches diameter by thirty-six inches stroke. The vessel is an open boat, or mammoth yawl, and the paddle wheels are about ten or twelve feet in diameter. We believe air alone is the fluid employed as a medium to generate the power.

COST OF KEEPING A LION.-From "Gerard's Lion Hunting and Sporting in Algeria," we learn that the cost of keeping a monarch of the forest amounts to considerably more for his animal food alone, than for half a dozen sovereigns of the United States. He says that the duration of the lion's existence is from thirty to forty years, and that he destroys an annual value of six thousand francs (one thousand two hundred dollars) in horses, mules, oxen, camels, and sheep. Taking the average of the lion's life at thirty-five years, each lion costs the

Arab two hundred and ten thousand francs, (sixty-seven thousand two hundred dollars.) The thirty lions at present existing in the province of Constantine, and which will be replaced by others coming from the regency of Tunis or Morocco, cost annually thirty-six thousand dollars. In the district where I generally hunt, the Arab, who pays five francs a year to the State, pays fifty to the lion.

We forbade him, said John, of the man he saw casting out devils in the name of Christ. We forbade him, because he followeth not us. Somewhat similar was the spirit manifested by the late English Wesleyan Conference toward the Rev. Mr. Caughey, as indicated in a letter to one of our exchanges:

"Without any open dissent the Conference determined that, as Mr. Caughey had come over to this country at the invitation of those who were in a state of hostility to us, and had already identified himself with them by administering the sacrament of the Lord's Supper to them the first Sunday after his arrival, and had already commenced revival services in the Reformed Chapel at Sheffield, it would be inexpedient for us to permit him to labor in any of the chapels under the control of our Conference."

But Jesus said, Forbid him not; for he that is not against us, is on our part.

THE STRYCHNINE OF COMMERCE.-The source from whence this poison, which has gained so world-wide a celebrity recently, is obtained, is

thus noticed in Dickens's Household Words:

"In Ceylon, and several districts of India, grows a moderate-sized tree, with thick, shining leaves, and a short, crooked stem. In the fruit season it is readily recognized by its rich orange-colored berries, about as large as golden pippins. The rind is hard and smooth, and covers a white, soft pulp, the favorite food of many kinds of birds, within which are the flat, round seeds, not an inch in diameter, ash-gray in color, and covered with very silky hairs. The Germans fancy they can discover a resemblance in them to gray eyes, and call them crow's eyes, but the likeness is purely imaginary. The tree is the strychnine nux romica, and the seed is the deadly poison nut. The latter was early used as a medicine by the Hindoos, and its nature and properties understood by oriental doctors long before it was known to foreign nations. Dog-killer and fishscale are two of its Arabic names. It is stated that at present the natives of Hindostan often take it for many months continually, in much the same manner as opium eaters eat opium. They commence with taking the eighth of a nut a day, and gradually increase their allowance to an entire nut, which would be about twenty grains. If they eat directly before or after food no unpleasant effects are produced; but if they neglect this precaution, spasms result."

THE MYSTERY OF TAMING BIRDS.-Kidd-the ever delightful Kidd-in his "Treatise on the Garden Warbler," says:

"Some masters and mistresses can never 'tame' birds-never get them to be on terms of intimacy. The cause is evident. There are no feelings of affection in common between them. They do not love their birds. The latter know as much; and are assuredly aware that they are kept simply for the sake of furnishing amusement. We have noted the same unerring sagacity with all our pets, our squirrels in particular. They would instantly detect any person who might be preparing, or wishing to play them off some practical joke; and would, to our great delight, fasten on them at once-paying handsomely, and in full, for all favors about to be' received. It was, however, impossible for us to anger them. They too well knew the friendliness of our disposition-seeing what merry romps and gambols we had together, both by day and night; up stairs, down stairs, and in the garden. No doubt it is a wise provision of Nature thus

to endow our little friends with instinctive powers of perception. The face is the index of the mind. They read our character when they catch our eye."

SMALL FEET.-An Anglo-Chinese journalist has the hardihood to attack the native practice of bandaging the feet of female children to make them small-a practice which, he says, is contrary to the principles of Confucianism, and not more ancient than the tenth century. Awaiting the spread of Christianity, which will assuredly do away with so barbarous a custom, he proposes, in the meantime, a new method of abridging the feet, and at the same time abridging by several years the tortures of the poor girls. Here it is:

"Now, as regards my method of making feet small. Call, while the girl is still at the breast, a butcher to operate with a cleaver. Let him cut the feet from above, downward to the sole; then carry the knife outward, reserving sufficient integument for a comfortable flap, which, after tying the vessels, turn over the wound, and keep in place by plasters. In a few days, it will heal naturally. If small feet be beautiful, these will be more so: if the pain be severe, it is but temporary, while cramping with bandages is a daily torture, consuming much time. I hope that benevolent gentlemen will exhort people to discard bandaging, and adopt my method."

SMALL CHANGE.

IN THE WRONG PULPIT.-A correspondent sends the following, which, albeit a little more personal than we like, will, we are assured, give no offense in any quarter:

"The Rev. Dr. Strickland is a man of rare industry, for besides his labors on the old Advocate he both writes and edits books with Wesleyan facility. Moreover, he preaches every Sunday as if he had nothing else to do. The fact is, the doctor don't know how to deny any one who asks him for help. A few weeks since a brother from Newark came to him with what the missionary speeches used to call the 'Macedonian cry:" Come over and help us.'

"Certainly,' said the doctor; 'name your time.' "Next Sunday morning.' "Agreed-look for me.'

"The next Sunday came, and, faithful to his promise, away went the doctor. In an hour's time he was in Newark, in the identical street on which the church stands. As he walked along (the doctor measures some distance on the earth's surface at each step) his busy mind was threading its way through the sermon to be delivered. Presently he came to a church-not the right one to be sure, but no matter, it was a church. The congregation were pretty woll assembled. Their own minister was in the pulpit and just about to begin according to the form and manner of Congregational worship. The doctor, thinking that all was right, (good, unsuspecting man that he is,) walked straight to the sacred desk, and kneeled down to say the usual short prayer for a good time. While he was praying, the Rev. Mr. Brown, who sat beside him, began to wonder what explanation could be made of all this. The doctor rose from his knees, and supposing that the minister of the church was a local preacher who had found his way into the pulpit, offered him his hand.

You have the advantago of me,' said Mr. Brown. "Have I?' said the doctor, still suspecting nothing, and assuming the easiest and most independent manner, just like him. My name is Strickland; I have come to preach for you.'

"Mr. Brown was puzzled to know whether this unexpected offer of help came from above, or below, or horizontally; and signified his confusion so plainly that the doctor's keen eye soon saw it.

"Isn't this a Methodist church ?' said he "Ah,' said Mr. Brown, that relieves the mystery. Our brethren of the Methodist persuasion worship in a house a little further up street.'

"The doctor left on suspicion, but soon found himself in the right place, right side up with care. If we are not misinformed, his text that morning was: ‘Inquire for the old paths.""