114 229 273 Plants, Experiments with,. 371 Scottish Iron Manufacture,. 601 531 St. Helena Newspaper, 4 Heart's Longings, How shall I meet Thee, 481 Pera, 327 Sciasconset, Indian Summer, 392 Poe's Tales, 343 Scripture Names, Indians, 415 Parable, Longings, 88 Premier's Gout, Dutch Anna, Duke of Normandy, University Movement, 261 Volcanoes and Hot Springs, 251 Vestiges of Creation, 41 115 Shooting Stars and Aerolites, 230 264 Sophia Dorothea,. Study, Plea for, 593 136 69 626, 610 Sublime and something more, 113 Zschokke, Autobiography of, 482 When shall we meet again, 517 Spanish Marriage, LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 73.-4 OCTOBER, 1845. POETRY.-Vive La Guerre, 30-Song of Steam, 41-Sordid Sweetheart, 43-Punch's SCRAPS.-Carrier Pigeon, 16-One Pound Notes, 18-Weather Panics; Persia; Liquid Air; Cavern in Africa; Blasting, 19-Destruction of Wasps; Water in the Desert, 30 -Paris Academy of Sciences; Coming of the Mammoth, 37-Cheerfulness, 41-Disso- lution of the American Union; Irish Colleges; Frogs in Stones, 48—Sycee Silver, 55— Advertisement for a Physician; Dignity of the Bar; Austrian Railroads; Louis XVII. ; Northcote; Portable Cottages; Thiers; Steamer to Leghorn; Sir R. Peel's Driving; which seeks profitable and safe investment. Upon finance, we may in some other place ask the at- It would be difficult to name a man whose public American Review; Member of Congress; Gover- below, is likely to be so valuable an addition to nor of his native State, and Minister to Great the libraries of families, that we should not fulfil to attract the respect of the nation to which he to our readers. The extensive connections of this was sent, and to raise his character at home, he great publishing house, make it certain that what- has returned to meet the hearty welcome of his ever they undertake will have an important influ- friends and fellow-citizens, who are already allot-ence upon society, and our enthusiasm has often been kindled at the thought of the vast benefits which it was in their power to confer upon the nation. In their Family Library, amounting to THERE are many indications of a commercial crisis in England, which will affect us, although far less than if our currency were unduly inflated. Two volumes have been issued as a beginning ulations have been copied into this number. One Polity. By William Whewell, D. D., author of painful reflection comes to us when we see how the History and the Philosophy of the Inductive profusely British capital is expended on the conti-Sciences. This is a good beginning. It would nent. Had we managed our American debts with be a suitable present on any occasion. In these the prompt honor and honesty which common volumes the most important questions of human. sense dictated, we might have commanded, for the duty and conduct are so treated as to make at- development of the rich treasures of this continent, tractive reading for all classes of society. The paper is solid and beautiful. The type clear | beneficial effects of giving such direction to the and distinct. More than 800 pages are contained public mind speedily discerned upon the pursuits, in them. As you take up these books they feel action and character of the American people." like English editions-which shows that in paper, printing and binding, the utmost care has been taken. We hold them up as a pattern for American publishers. Slovenly printing, upon soft paper, will hardly content the public hereafter. In connection with this subject, we most earnestly recommend to our readers Silliman's American Journal of Science and the Arts, a work of more than twenty years' duration, and abundantly praised and copied from by the European scientific jourMESSRS. HARPER & BROTHERS respectfully beg nals-but being published by the editor himself, to announce their intention of immediately com-without the aid of bookselling machinery, it needs mencing the publication of a new and attractive the good word of all who can appreciate it, in series of sterling books, to be issued under the order to attract to it the attention which it would general designation of Harpers' New Miscellany, command under other circumstances. which will be legibly printed, in duodecimo, on fine paper, and bound in extra muslin, gilt. Price MR. LESTER'S Medici Series of Italian Prose, is Fifty Cents a volume, and issued at short intervals. continued, by the publication of The Florentine To render accessible to the million the fullest Histories, by Machiavelli. This name is familiar advantages of popular instruction in the various divisions of human knowledge is the design of the as a proverb, to the ears of many who have never above series. It is apparent in the present day read a line of his works. Presented in this handthat books of intrinsic value are demanded by the some form, and at a low price, we shall be well people. Formerly the popular taste preferred acquainted with them. We understand that the mainly works of mere amusement; the great body work has been recommended to the students of of readers now seek them as vehicles of general Harvard University. Mr. Lester has well fulfilled knowledge-books of a more permanently valuable The cast-devoted to some of the departments of sci-one of the duties of an American Consul-which ence or general literature. A class of books ex- is to naturalize here all that he finds good in other pressly adapted to this demand it is the aim of the nations. publishers to supply, and at a price so exceedingly We know of no reason why the following recheap that every person of ordinary taste and advantages may thus become possessed of a complete commendation should not be acted upon. Library of the Selectest Literature of the Lan-Picayune calls it novel, but it is the obvious soluguage and the Age. tion of the question about the Indian settlements. Let them be admitted, when they ask for it, as soon as the conditions of the Constitution shall have been complied with. In this collection it is intended to include the best productions in every department of knowledge; popular philosophical treatises on topics of universal interest; the most compact and brilliant historical books; valuable biographical memoirs ; The Albany Argus suggests a novel idea. modern voyages and travels, &c.; together with It is that of an Indian State admitted to our conscientific and other collateral divisions; in the se- federacy! The rapid advance of the Choctaws lection of all which, the most careful discrimina-and Cherokees in the arts of civilized life, and in tion will be observed. education and religious knowledge, has led the Bubbles from the Brunnen of Nassau, is the 24th friends of the Indian to think of the erection of Indian States. The Argus remarks that these No. of Wiley & Putnam's Library. A delightful nations are coming into a condition which will be volume of light and graceful chat and description. fully worthy of alliance with such a republic as Onward! Right Onward! By Mrs. Tuthill-ours, and that there is no reason to doubt that they would do honor to such a relation.-Picayune. has been published by Messrs. Crosby & Nichols. It is by the author of "I'll be a Gentleman," and "I'll be a Lady," which we should have read a dozen times, had we taken the advice of the young people, who read them again and again, Parts 9 and 10 of Dr. Lardner's Popular Lectures on Science and Art, have been published by Greeley & McElrath, who append this notice, which we cordially concur in FROM a publication of the results in about 20 of the largest offices, it appears that the falling off in the gross receipts of the Post Office, has been only about 40 per cent. Now as there have been considerable reductions in the expenses, the loss been under the old law. This result, at so early will probably be little more than there would have a stage of the experiment, is better than we hoped for, fearing that the halfway character of the re"The publishers are gratified at the very gene-duction would retard its ultimate success. ral interest which the publication of these Lectures has awakened in the public mind to subjects con- PROF. STUART, of Andover, has in press a volnected with the Sciences and Useful Arts. If, ume entitled "A Critical History and Defence of however, those persons who have more readily ap- the Canon of the Old Testament." The object preciated the value of a work of this nature, and of the work is to show that our Saviour and his have promptly patronized it themselves, would take the pains to recommend it to their friends, Apostles constantly recognized as of Divine auand especially to the mechanics and young men of thority the books of the Old Testament, the identhe nation, the circulation and diffusion of useful tical books which we now find there, and no intelligence would be vastly extended, and the others. CHAPTER XVI. of the past! Here is the scene of a happy childhood. It is full of gracious shapes-a resurrection of the gentle, beautiful. We have lain in that field, and thought the lark-a trembling, fluttering speck of song above us-must be very near to God. That field is filled with sweetest memories, as with flowers. And there is an old-old tree. How often have we climbed it, and, throned amid thing beating like a drum at our heart; a something that, confusing us with a dim sense of glory, has filled our soul with a strange, fitful music, as with the sounds of a far-coming triumph! Such may be the memories of a happy youth. And what, as St. Giles, with his face leaning on his propped hands, gazed from the wagon, what, seeing the scenes of his childhood-what saw he? Many things big with many thoughts. EVERY guest of the Lamb and Star bore away the confession of the assassin; and full soon scornful, loathing looks beset the path of Robert Willis. The gossiping villagers would stand silent, eyeing him askance, as he passed them. The dullest hind would return his nod and good-morrow with a sullen, awkward air. Even little children cow-its boughs, have read a wondrous book; a someered from him, huddling about their mothers, as the gay homicide would pat their heads, and give them pennies. It did not serve, that Robert Willis, with a roaring laugh, declared the whole a jest-a drunken frolic just to make folks stare. It served not that he would loudly and laboriously chuckle" to think how he had made Blink shakeand how, with just a word or so, he had taken everybody in." No; the confession of the murderer had sunk into the hearts of his hearers: the tale spread far and wide, and not even butts of ale -and Willis tried that Lethe-would drown the memory of it. And so in brief time, the miserable wretch was left alone with the fiends. A few, out of pure love of the liquor he bestowed, would still have doubted the blood-guiltiness of their patron; but even they could not long confront the reproaches of their fellows. And so, with a late and hesitating virtue, they wiped their lips of the murderer's malt, and consented to believe him very bad indeed. Willis, as one by one dropt from him, grew fiercely confident; battling with brazen brow the looks of all. Unequal fight! The devil is a coward in the end and so, after a show of scornful opposition, the poor cowed fiend gave up the contest, and Robert Willis went no man knew where. A sad blow was this to Justice Wattles. That he should have spent so much money on so hopeless a creature! That he should have gone to the heavy expense of Mr. Montecute Crawley! That at so vast a price he should have saved his kinsman from the gibbet-when the desperate fool had hung himself in the opinion of all men! It would have been better, far cheaper, to let truth take its course-but then there was the respectability of the family! After all, it was some poor consolation to the puzzled justice, that however a Willis might have deserved the gallows, he had escaped it opinion was a hard thing; but at the hardest it was not tightened hemp. Nobody could say that a Willis was ever hanged. Truth, after all, had not been sacrificed for nothing; and that was some comfort at the least. Yes; how well he knew that court! Six-andthirty hours' hunger had raged in his vitals, and with a desperate plunge, he had dived into a pocket. It was empty. But the would-be thief was felt, and hotly pursued. He turned up that court. He was very young, then; and, like a fool, knew not the ins-and-outs of the borough. He ran up the court; there was no outlet; and the young thief was caught like a stoat in a trap. And now St. Giles sees the joy of his pursuer; and almost feels the blow the good, indignant man, dealt as with a flail upon the half-naked child. Ay, and it was at that post, that his foot slipt when he was chased by the beadle for stealing two potatoes from a dealer's sack. Yes; and opposite that very house, the beadle laid about him with his cane; and there it was that the big, raw-boned, painted woman, tore him from the beadle's grasp; and giving him a penny, told him with an oath to run for very life. Such were the memories—yes, every turning had such-that thronged upon St. Giles, gazing in thought upon his childhood days, from the Kent wagon. And then happier thoughts possessed our hero. He looked again and again at the card given him by St. James; and that bit of paper with its few words was a talisman to his soul; a written spell that threw a beauty and a brightness about the meanest things of London. Human life moved about him full of hope and dignity. He had-or would have-an interest in the great game-how great and how small!—of men. He would no longer be a man-wolf; a wretched thing to hunt and be hunted. He would know the daily sweets In due course, the Kent wagon brought St. of honest bread, and sleep the sleep of peace. Giles to London. It was about five o'clock on a What a promotion in the scale of life! What bright summer morning when St. Giles, with rap- unhoped felicity, to be permitted to be honest, turous eyes, looked upon the borough. Yes, he gentle! What a saving mercy, to be allowed to had returned to his hard-nursing mother, London. walk upright with those he might begin to look She had taught him to pick and steal, and lie, and, upon as fellow-creatures! And as St. Giles yet a child, to anticipate the iniquities of men; and thought of this, gratitude melted his very being, then-foolish, guilty mother!-she had scourged and he could have fallen upon his knees on London her youngling for his naughtiness; believing by stones, in thankfulness and penitence. Solitude the severity of her chastisement best to show her to him had been a softening teacher. Meditation scorn of vice, her love of goodness. And St. had come upon him in the far wilds; and the isoGiles, as the wagon crawled along, lay full-lated, badged, and toiling felon for the first time length upon the straw, and mused upon the frequent haunts of his early days. Sweet and balmy sweet such thoughts! Refreshing to the soul, jaded and fretful from the fight of men, to slake its thirst for peace and beauty, at the fountain of memory, when childhood seemed to have played with angels. What a luxury of the heart, to cast off the present like a foul, begrimed garment, and let the soul walk awhile in the naked innocence thought of the mystery of himself; for the first time dared to look in upon his heart-a look that some who pass for bold men sometimes care not to take-and he resolved to fight against what seemed his fate. He would get back to the world. Despite of the sentence that bade him not to hope, he would hope. Though doomed to be a life-long human instrument, a drudging carcass, he would win back his manhood-he would return to life a self-respecting being. And this will beat, con- | fervent devotion, thanking his God who had stant as a pulse, within him. And these feelings, brought him from the land of cannibals to the land though the untutored man could give them no har- of Christians. monious utterance, still sustained and soothed him ; and now, in London streets, made most hopeful music to his soul. And now is St. Giles aroused by a stream of people passing upward and downward, and as though led by one purpose turning into the Old Bailey. "What 's this crowd about?" he asked of one, and ere he was answered, he saw far down at Newgate door a scaffold and a beam; and a mass of human creatures, crowded like bees, gazing upon them." What's this?" again asked St. Giles, and he felt the sickness of death upon him. "What's this?" answered a fellow with a sneering leer-" Why, where do you come from to ask that? Why, it's king George's new drop, and this is the first day he 's going to try it. No more hanging at Tyburn now; no more drinks of ale at the Pound. It's all now to be the matter of a minute, they say. But it will never answer, it never does; any of these new-fangled things. Nothing like the old horse and cart, take my word for it. Besides, all London could see something of the show when they went to Tyburn, while next to nobody can be accommodated in the Old Bailey. But it serves me right. If I had n't got so precious drunk last night, I'd been up in time to have got a place near the gallows. Silence! There goes eight o'clock." And St. Giles passed through old familiar places, and would not ponder on the miserable memories that thronged them. No; with a strong will, he laid the rising ghosts of his boyish days, and went with growing stoutness on. He was bound for St. James'-square, and the way before him was a path of pleasure. How changed was London-bridge! To his boyhood it had been a mass of smoked, grimed stone: and now it seemed a shape of grace and beauty. He looked, too, at the thousand ships that, wherever the sea rolled, with mute gigantic power told the strength, the wealth, and enterprise of England. He looked, and would not think of the convict craft, laden with crimes, and wrong, and blasphemy, that had borne him to his doom. He passed along, through Lombard-street to the bank; and he paused and smiled as he thought of the time when the place seemed to him a place of awful splendor; a visible heaven, and they he thought who went for moneys there," angels ascending and descending ;" and above all, what a glory it would be to him-a fame surpassing all burglarious renown-to rob that And as the hour was struck by the bells of Bank of England. And then he saw the Mansion-Christian churches-of churches built in Christ's house; and thought of the severe and solemn name, who conquered vengeance by charity-men alderman who had sentenced him to Bridewell. were led forth to be strangled by men, their last And then St. Giles passed along Cheapside, and moments soothed and made hopeful by Christ's stood before St. Paul's church; and then for the clergyman. Indeed, it is long and hard teaching, first time felt somewhat of its tremendous beauty. to make nations truly read the Testament they It had been to him a mere mountain of stone, with boast of. a clock upon it: and now, he felt himself subdued, There was a sudden hush among the crowd; refined, as the cathedral, like some strange har- and St. Giles felt himself rooted where he stood; mony, sank into his soul. He thought, too, of with gaping_mouth, and eyes glaring towards Christ and the fishermen and tentmakers Christ Newgate. The criminals, trussed for the grave, had glorified-for he had learned to read of them came out. "One-two-three-four-five-six when a felon in the wilderness-and his heart-seven"-cried St. Giles in a rising scream, glowed with Christian fervor at Christ's temple-numbering the wretches as each passed to his that visible glory made and dedicated to the pur-place-" eight-nine-ten-Good God! how maposes of the Great Teacher-most mighty in his ny?"-and terror-stricken, he could count no furgentleness, most triumphant by his endurance, most adorable by the charity that he taught to men, as the immortal link to hold them still to God! Could expression have breathed upon the thoughts of St. Giles, thus he might have delivered himself. He spoke not: but stood gazing at the church, and thinking what a blessing it was upon a land, wherein temples for such purposes abounded; where solemn men set themselves apart from Reader, pause a moment. Drop not the book the sordid ways of life, keeping their minds calm with sudden indignation at the writer who, to and undefiled from the chink and touch of money-make the ingredients of his story "thick and slab," bags, to heed of nothing but the fainting, bleeding, erring hearts of those who had dwelt upon the earth as though the earth had never a grave. Yes; it was a blessing to breathe in such a land. It was a destiny demanding a daily prayer of thankfulness, to know that Christian charity was preached from a thousand and a thousand pulpits; to feel that the spirits of the apostles, their earnest, truthful spirits, (ere solemnized by inspiration,) | still animated bishops, deans, and rectors; and even cast a glory on the worn coats of how many thousand curates! St. Giles, the returned transport-the ignorant and sinning man: St. Giles, whose innocence of childhood had been offered to the Moloch selfishness of society-even St. Giles felt all this; and with swelling heart and the tears in his throat, passed down Ludgate-hill, with a ther. And then the last night's bacchanal next St. Giles, took up the reckoning, counting as he would have counted so many logs of wood, so many sacks of coals.-" Eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelvethirteen-fourteen-fifteen. That's all; yes, it was to be fifteen: that little chap's the last. Fifteen." invents this horror. No; he but copies from the chronicles of the Old Bailey. Turn to them, incredulous reader, and you will find that on the balmy morning of the twenty-third of June, in the year of our Offended Lord, one thousand seven hundred and eighty-four, fifteen human beings were hanged in front of Newgate: death-offerings to the laws and virtues of merry England. It was the first day, too, of the new drop; and the novel engine must be greeted with a gallant number. Fame has her laurels: why should not Justice have her ropes? There was, too, a pleasantrythe devil, if he joke at all, must joke after some such fashion-in trying the substance and capacity of a new gallows, by so much weight of human flesh convulsed in the death-struggle. And sogreat was the legislative wit!—there were fifteen |