tion in the case of perpetual motion. It would constitute a novel magazine article to gather up all the plans that have been conjured up, in which that great desideratum has been grasped after. A premium for a mechanic that has not grasped after it!

I have a brother whose inventive genius has accomplished much in his line. He and I for two years tried our wits at this thing of perpetual motion. Our first machine was on this wise: (Remember it was only formed on paper :) There was a large water-wheel with buckets on its rim into which the propelling water was to fall. When this was set in motion, it was to propel a pump which was to supply motive power. We improved this machine by attaching an elevator, instead of a pump, with bullets as the power, and lastly we used quicksilver, but it took more power to pump the water, and to raise the quicksilver than the water and silver would produce.

Our next trial was a large wheel whose spokes were put on with an elbow joint. Whenever these spokes would pass the center above, they would fall out to a perpendicular position and propel the wheel; but it would not go.

Our next project was a circular railway, about one hundred feet in diameter; one side of the circular was elevated. The car was started from this elevation, and we expected the momentum obtained, by the aid of a balance wheel, would bring the car up again to the starting point. But the friction overcame the power. Another track was raised at both ends; the car was to run backward and forward. We expected the momentum obtained by going down one hill would take it up the other, but this also failed.

I speculated for some time on a notion of my own. I conceived that a syphon needed to be longer at the end from which the water flowed than at the other. By coiling the outer end I intended to have it bring up water to our great revolving wheel. This I have never tried. I appeal to the philosophers to know if a syphon coiled on the outside will bring water from a well?

[Some days after Sartor presented those Greek lines which the reader will find in the second column of this article, young Bantam presented the following transla

tion. Upon this evidence the whole company pronounced Cowper a plagiarist.

I am governor of all I look upon,
My claim there is none to contend for;
From the middle, all about to the sea,

I am master of the bird and the beast.
O wilderness, where are the fascinations
That the wise have seen in thy countenance,
Better live in the middle of dangers
Than rule in this fearful place.]

.

It is thought that ministers have an easy time obtaining marriage perquisites; but if I were to tell you of all the funny things I have heard from my ministerial friends, you, Mrs. Bantam, would call me Munchausian! But at the risk of my reputation I will repeat a few of these affairs.

My friend Harvey married a couple at Fryburg. The groom was a young farmer of good property. When the wedding was over he approached Mr. Harvey very graciously and asked his charge.

"O whatever you please," said H. Groom held out four "quarters" in his hand, remarking blandly:

There, Mr. H., take till you are satisfied."

H. declined" taking," whereupon groom handed him three of the quarters, and Harvey went away, after coming a long distance, seventy-five cents richer for the fortunate marriage.

The very same circumstance occurred with my friend F., only the groom gave him, from a handful of silver, but fifty cents. But F. says the wedding was where he went on the cars five miles, and relied on his wedding fee to pay his way home, and was obliged to borrow money from a wedding guest to pay his way. The groom said he would hand F. something some time. That was long ago, and F. has not as yet received his fee. His friend M'K. thinks he had better take the happy groom's note!

Speaking of this affair reminds me of another circumstance in F.'s life. He went on to his first circuit young and poor, having spent all his later years' earnings at the Mount Beauty Seminary. He was horseless, and while stopping at the house of old father H. the good man began to condole with him. The old man was rich, with plenty of gold in the house.

"Brother F.," said he, " I think you are making a good beginning, and if you prove faithful no doubt God will make a useful man of you. You are having a hard time

to get along, and I have been talking with some of the members about helping you to buy a horse. I have promised to lead the way, and I will give my share now." Whereupon the good-hearted old man went to his money bag and took out a precious coin. F. was highly pleased, as help just then would be as good a thing as could befall him. Brother Hardman's piece of money was handed forth very graciously, and F., rather bewildered, pocketed the old man's twenty-five cent piece and went out on a walk to meditate!

He bought himself a horse, but how far the "quarter" went in the purchase it becometh us not to say.

There is very little that is new under the sun. Nearly every great writing will find some counterpart in the thoughts of some earlier writer. Here, for instance, are a few lines from the Latin of Longurionis, from which it would seem a noted poem of a noted New England poet of this day has been taken. I need make no further remarks. Most people will have knowledge of Latin enough to detect the plagiarism in the case I have mentioned.

[Young Bantam afterward presented a translation which, however, I shall not present here. The reader must make his own translations.]

Umbræ noctis erant badens celeriter
Dum per Alpum vicum procedebat
Juventus qui ferebat per nivem et glaciem
Vexillum cum hoc rarum symbolum.

"Excelsior."

Trust no forms of guilty passion,

Fiends can look like angels bright;
Trust no custom, school, or fashion,
"Trust in God and do the right."

Some will hate thee, some will love thee,
Some will flatter, some will slight;
Cease from man, and look above thee,
"Trust in God and do the right."

Simple rule and safest guiding,
Inward peace and inward light;
Star upon our path abiding,
"TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE RIGHT."

THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE BIBLE. JACOB THE CHANGE OF HIS NAME.

E left Jacob on his way from his

uncle Laban at Haran, in Mesopotamia. On the morning after he awoke from the wondrous vision at Bethel, he took the stone upon which he had reclined, and set it up for a pillar in commemoration of that event. Mr. Morier, in his second journey through Persia, notices a custom which seems to illustrate this act of Jacob. In traveling through that country, he observed that the guide occasionally placed a stone on a conspicuous piece of rock, or two stones one upon another, at the same time uttering some words which were understood to be a prayer for the safe return of the party. Nothing is so natural, adds this intelligent writer, as for a solitary traveler in a dreary country to sit himself down fatigued, and to make the vow that Jacob did: If God will be with me, and keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I reach my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God.

It is the opinion of the Jews that this stone, on which their great ancestor reclined his head, was placed in the sanctuary of the second temple, and that the ark of the covenant rested upon it. They add, that after the destruction of that temple, their fathers were accustomed to lament the calamities that had befallen them over the stone on which Jacob's head rested at Bethel. This stone, said Jacob, which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God's house; which idea seems to have been in the mind of the apostle when he calls the house of God, which is the Church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth.

It is worthy of a passing remark, too,

that in the time of Edward the First, king of England, a stone, said to be the identical pillow on which Jacob reclined his weary head, was brought to Westminster, and to this day is placed under the chair on which the king sits at his coronation. It is a tradition not easily disproved, and not worth the trouble if it were. Let us keep to the record.

In the further prosecution of his journey we find no incidents of importance. Under the protecting care of the Almighty he pursues his way, and at length reaches the fertile land of Mesopotamia, so called from its lying between two rivers, and known also as Padan Aram, or the fruitful Syria; and according to Campbell, in his Overland Journey to India, still abounding with corn, oil, wine, fruits, and all the necessaries of life. "To be treading," continues this author, "that ground which Abraham trod, where Nahor, the father of Rebecca, lived, where holy Job breathed the pure air of piety and simplicity, and where Laban, the father-in-law of Jacob, resided, was to me a circumstance productive of delightful sensations." It is supposed by many, that in this region was situated the delightful garden of Eden, the original paradise, prepared and beautified by the wonder-working hand of Almighty love for his favorite, man. Blighted by sin, and blasted by the deluge, it still retains some faint traces of its original fertility and loveliness.

The account of Jacob's meeting with the flocks and shepherds of his uncle, his first introduction to Rachel, herself a shepherdess, and the conversation which took place on that occasion, are an admirable illustration of primitive simplicity, and bear incontestable evidence of fidelity to truth. And it came to pass, when Laban heard the tidings of Jacob, his sister's son, that he ran to meet him, and kissed him, and brought him to his house. A reception, to all appearance, most friendly; but Laban's subsequent conduct stamps his character as that of a selfish churl, an ungenerous miser. Dead to all feelings of natural affection, his own private interest seems to have been his only study. When the servants of Isaac came to him, bearing many and precious jewels, he received them with great courtesy, and willingly parted with his sister Rebecca. The gold, and silver, and costly raiment were strong arguments for Laban; but now when that

sister's son appears, friendless and alone, a poor man, he exacts from him rigorous service, and by fraud sells to him both his daughters for fourteen years of hard toil. In the after history of the Jewish people, God makes use of this incident in Jacob's life, his poverty and his toil, to keep up a spirit of humility among them. A Syrian ready to perish was my father, is a part of the confession every Israelite was required to make, when he presented his basket of the first ripe fruits before the Lord. A Syrian ready to perish was my father! and a recurrence to what we ourselves once were, and to the low station which our fathers occupied, will tend greatly to abate the pride, and bring down the haughtiness, which otherwise might forget the rock whence we were hewn, and the hole of the pit whence we were digged.

Jacob appears to have served his uncle with great fidelity, and at the end of the second period of seven years, it was natural that he should desire to be dismissed, that he might make provision for his own increasing family. This, however, did not suit Laban, whose flocks and herds had prospered wonderfully under the care of Jacob, and he was constrained to ascribe it, not only to his faithfulness, but to the blessing of God upon him. I have learned by experience, says he, that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake. Accordingly they entered into a new arrangement, which appeared to be greatly in Laban's favor, but resulted in the astonishing increase of Jacob's possessions. Jacob's conduct in this matter has been condemned as treacherous and dishonest. It is evident, however, that the success of his scheme cannot be accounted for on natural principles; and he himself attributes it to the overruling hand of nature's God. And now arises a new source of trouble and anxiety. In his poverty and dependence he was continually the subject of oppression, and liable to insult and injury. Now, his wealth being increased, he is exposed to the jealousy and envy of Laban and his sons. They accuse him of fraudulently obtaining the possessions which belonged of right to them; and his prosperity, exposing him to envy and abuse, is scarcely more pleasant than his former state of poverty and servitude. The conversation between Jacob and his wives on this occasion, gives a still more striking picture of the unpleasantness of Jacob's

present condition, and exhibits the character and conduct of the covetous and miserly Laban in still stronger colors. Ye know, says Jacob, that with all my power I have served your father, and your father hath deceived me, and changed my wages ten times; but God suffered him not to hurt me. And Rachel and Leah answered, Is there yet any portion or inheritance for us in our father's house? Are we not counted of him strangers? for he hath sold us, and hath quite devoured also our money; that is, instead of treating us as daughters, and giving unto us our inheritance, he has sold us like slaves, and applied the proceeds to his own use. With the hearty concurrence of his family, therefore, while Laban was engaged with his sheep-shearing, Jacob departs with all his possessions toward the home of his fathers. He took with him nothing but what was rightfully his own. His wife Rachel, however, it seems, had stolen her father's gods; that is, the little images which he was wont to worship. It is supposed she was still superstitious enough to have some confidence in the ability of these idols to protect them on the journey. Another opinion is, and it is the more charitable, that she took them away to deprive her father of his objects of idolatrous worship. In either case, her conduct is blameworthy, and it is evident that Jacob, in his hasty flight, knew nothing of the matter.

Three days after their departure, the news is brought to Laban, who immediately collects a sufficient force from among his neighbors and kinsmen, and sets out in hot pursuit, evidently with the design to bring him back by force, and, if possible, to take from him those possessions which Jacob had fairly earned. Having, however, been warned against such conduct by the interposition of Jacob's God, he refrains from violence, and now exhibits himself in the character of a canting hypocrite. Wherefore, says he, didst thou flee away secretly? I would have sent thee away with mirth and with songs, with tabret and with harp. Thou hast not suffered me even to kiss thy sons and thy daughters, my little grand-children. In this matter Laban acted the part of thousands, who, when stung by the reproaches of conscience, endeavor by a smooth exterior to transfer the blame from themselves to the persons they have injured.

Full well he knew that Jacob had sufficient reason for stealing away secretly. The conduct with which he reproaches his nephew, was the result of his own harshness and severity; and yet, with great self-complacency, he throws all the blame on Jacob, and talks of the liberal and generous things that he would have done when there is no fear of his generosity being put to the test.

With great severity Jacob reproaches his uncle for his former conduct. What, says he, is my trespass, and what my sin, that thou hast so hotly pursued after me. These twenty years have I been with thee. I served thee fourteen years for thy two daughters, and six years for thy cattle. Thus I was, he continues, in the day the drought consumed me and the frost by night; and my sleep departed from mine eyes. With exemplary humility, too, and a devout sense of his dependence, Jacob refers his prosperity and success to its true source-the direct blessing of the Almighty; God, says he, hath seen mine affliction and the labor of my hands. The God of my fathers, the God of Abraham, and the fear of Isaac, has been with me. Ay, more! this same God rebuked thee last night, and it was because of this rebuke that thy conduct toward me has been so different from what was thy design in commencing this hot pursuit with armed men. At this, Laban seems to have been utterly confounded, and seeks to adjust the matter in the best way he can. At his instance, a covenant of peace is entered into between himself and his nephew. They gathered stones, and erected a pillar, upon which Jacob offered sacrifices to the God of his fathers; and Laban, apparently touched with a sense of the superintending providence of Jehovah, said, This heap is a witness between me and thee; and therefore was the name of it called Galeed and Mizpah; for he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another. A beautiful sentiment, used, as I remember, for the inscription of a seal to letters passing from one who feared God, to a friend from whom he was separated by an ocean. It was simply, Genesis xxxi, 49, to which his correspondent might turn, and read the prayer of affection and esteem: The Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent one from another. Then Laban, it is said, kissed his daughters and

his grand-children, bade them farewell, and this is the last we hear of him. That he was an idolater, is evident from his anxiety to recover his images, gods as he called them, which Rachel had carried away with her. It is also clear that he had some knowledge of the true God, which he had probably derived from his nephew Jacob. Enough, no doubt, if he had been so disposed, notwithstanding his naturally corrupt heart, to have secured his forgiveness, and a participation in the blessings of Jacob's God.

After the departure of Laban, Jacob pursued his way; and, although cheered by a vision of angels, his heart failed him, as with his little band he entered the confines of Edom, the residence of his brother Esau. He had left him, it will be remembered, deeply exasperated at being defrauded of his birthright. News was soon brought to Jacob that his brother, with four hundred men, was coming to meet him.

It does not appear, from the narrative, that Esau had any hostile intention in coming to meet his brother. It may have been that he merely intended to do him honor as he passed through his territories; but Jacob remembered his own unbrotherly conduct, and the threats which Esau had made twenty years previously, and he was greatly afraid and distressed. He betakes himself to prayer. In a spirit of deep self-abasement he exclaims, I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies which thou hast showed unto thy servant. With heartfelt thankfulness he acknowledges God's goodness: With my staff I passed over this Jordan, and I return so prosperous, as to be able to divide my possessions into two bands. With faith he pleads the promises made by the Almighty to his fathers and himself: Thou hast said, O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, thou hast said, I will deal well with thee. And now he intercedes for the safety of himself and those who were dear unto him: Deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother, for I fear him, lest he come and smite me, and the mother with the children. After this, he prepares a magnificent present for his brother, and, with his usual prudence, he so arranges his company and his intended gift, as would, in all human probability, allay the anger of his brother, and appease his wrath. He

divides his present into three separate parts, with a space between each, directing his servants to say, each as he should meet his defrauded brother, This is a present sent unto my lord Esau, from his servant Jacob.

He then seems to have tried to get a little rest: but whatever sleep might fall to the lot of the women and children, or rest to the beasts of burden, there was little of either for him. He was now in the neighborhood of a small river called the Jabbok. It is a stream which falls into the Jordan, and according to modern travelers is exceedingly lovely. "Its banks, says Mr. Buckingham, "are so thickly wooded with oleander and plane trees, wild olives and wild almonds in blossom, with many flowers, the names of which were unknown to us, that we could not perceive the water through them from above, though the presence of these luxuriant borders marked the winding of its course; and the murmur of its flow echoing through its long deep channel was to be heard distinctly from afar."

Unable to close his eyes, Jacob rose up, and having crossed this stream, with his whole family and all that he had, he returned to spend the remainder of the night alone in communion with his God upon the other side. An instructive lesson this for all who may be placed in circumstances of a similar kind, or when from any cause separated from those in whose welfare we take a deep interest. If we can do no more, with the faith of Jacob we may commend them to that God who neither slumbers nor sleeps; and such faith will beget that assurance which will enable us to exclaim with the poet :

Under the shadow of thy throne,

Still shall they rest secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,

And their defense is sure.

And Jacob was left alone, and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. Who was this with whom Jacob is said to have wrestled? The circumstances of the case, as related by the sacred writer, will not allow the supposition which some have advanced, that this occurence was imaginary, or the result of a mere vision. On the contrary, it is the narrative of a fact, and clothed in such language as could not fail to deceive a plain reader had anything else been intended. The sacred writer says it was a man with whom