A dreadful steamboat catastrophe occurred on Lake Erie on the 19th

of August. The steam-propeller Ogdensburgh ran into the steamer

Atlantic, striking her just forward of the wheel-house, and injuring

her so seriously that, after going a mile or two toward the shore,

she sunk. The propeller, not understanding the full damage of the

collision, and anxious for her own safety, did not go to the rescue

of her passengers until half an hour after the accident. More than a

hundred persons lost their lives, the greater portion of them being

Norwegian emigrants huddled together on the forward deck, and unable,

through their ignorance of English, to avail themselves of the means of

safety suggested. Very conflicting statements in regard to the cause of

the collision have been published;--the night was not very dark, both

vessels had signal lights and a watch on deck. The matter is undergoing

judicial investigation.----On the Hudson River still another accident

occurred on the 4th of September. As the steamer _Reindeer_ lay at the

wharf at Bristol landing, about forty miles below Albany, one of her

connection pipes burst, and _twenty-seven_ persons, mainly those in the

after-cabin, were killed--fifty more being considerably injured.----A

National Convention of the Free-Soil party was held at Pittsburgh

on the 11th of August, at which John P. Hale, of New Hampshire,

was nominated for President, and George W. Julian, of Indiana, for

Vice-President, as the candidates of that party.----A meeting of

delegates is to be held at Macon, Georgia, on the 20th of October, for

the purpose of calling an Agricultural Congress of the Slaveholding

States--the chief objects of which are declared to be to develope the

resources, combine the energies, and promote the prosperity of the

Southern States, and to cultivate the aptitudes of the negro race for

civilization; so that when slavery shall have fulfilled its mission,

a system may be authorized which shall relieve the race from its

servitude, without sinking it to the condition of the free negroes at

the North and in the West Indies.

From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to the 1st of August. The

intelligence is without any feature of special novelty. The mining

prospects continue to be good, and very large amounts of gold continue

to be procured. The whole amount shipped from California during the

past year was over sixty-six millions of dollars. The miners in every

section of the gold districts continue to receive abundant returns

for their labor.----Every mail brings a deplorable list of casualties

and crimes in various parts of the State, the details of which it

is unnecessary here to repeat. Nearly all of the outrages occur in

the more distant and thinly-settled sections of the country; and in

most cases the perpetration of crime is followed by the speedy, and

often the lawless infliction of chastisement.----The celebration of

the Fourth of July at San Francisco was marked by the attendance in

procession of a large body of Chinese, who bore richly-decorated

banners, got up in the style of their own country. The Chinese

continued to arrive in the country in great numbers, nearly four

thousand having reached San Francisco within a fortnight. The hostility

of the miners toward them was abating. The arrival of emigrants

from all quarters continued to be very great, 22,000 having landed

between June 1st and July 9th. Difficulties have arisen in the San

Joaquin district between the American miners and a party of French and

Spaniards, who were thought to have trespassed upon private rights:

serious collisions were apprehended at one time, but a better state

of feeling has been induced. It was currently reported that fresh

movements were on foot for the conquest and annexation of Southern

California.

In OREGON, it is stated, valuable coal-mines have been discovered

near St. Helens, on the Columbia river. The vein has been opened, and

promises to be very extensive;--it is about two and a half feet thick,

and has been traced for half a mile. The coal is remarkably pure. Other

mines have been discovered in the vicinity, but they have not yet been

explored.----The agricultural prospects of the territory were very

good. The population is stated at 20,000, and is said to be rapidly

increasing. A special session of the Legislature had been called by

Governor Gaines for July 29th. The gold mines in the Southern part of

the territory continued to yield fair returns. Complaints are made by

recently arrived emigrants of ill-treatment received at the hands of

the Mormons during their passage through the Salt Lake country.

From the extreme NORTH WEST--the British possessions near Lake

Winnipeg--accounts of very disastrous floods have been received. The

settlement established by the Earl of Selkirk in 1812, which had grown

into considerable importance as a point from which supplies were

furnished to the Fur Companies of that region, and which contained

about ten thousand inhabitants, had been nearly destroyed by freshets

in the Red River of the North, which began on the 5th of May, and

reached their height about the 20th. Dwellings, crops, and nearly all

the products of twenty-five years' labor have been swept away: the

damage is estimated at about a million of dollars.

SOUTH AMERICA.

From the _Argentine Republic_ we have intelligence of fresh political

disturbances, indicating at least the temporary failure of the new and

moderate system introduced by Urquiza after the defeat and expulsion of

Rosas. The Convention from the several provinces summoned by Urquiza,

met at San Nicholas--ten of the thirteen provinces being represented

by their governors, and adopted a Constitution for the federation. It

provided for abolishing the transit duties, and for the assembling of

a Congress at Santa Fé, which was to consist of two delegates from

each province, to be selected by the popular vote, to be untrammeled

by instructions, and the minority to conform to the decision of

the majority, without dissent or protest. In order to defray the

national expenses, the provinces agreed to contribute in proportion

to the product of their foreign Custom-houses, and that the permanent

establishment of the duties shall be fixed by Congress. To secure

the internal order and peace of the republic, the provinces engage

to combine their efforts in preventing open hostilities or putting

down armed insurrections, and the better to promote these objects,

General Urquiza was recognized as General-in-chief of the armies of the

Confederation, with the title of Provisional Director of the Argentine

Confederation. In the Chambers of Buenos Ayres, very warm opposition

was manifested to this Convention: bitter and violent debates took

place, and the popular clamor became so high that the Governor Lopez

resigned his office; whereupon General Urquiza dissolved the Chambers,

and took the supreme power into his own hands. In a communication sent

by his order to the British Chargé, he states that the anarchy into

which the province was thrown, compelled him to take this step, and

declares that he shall not extend the authority with which he is vested

beyond the time and the measures necessary for the re-establishment of

order in the province. He also issued a brief address to the Governors

of the provinces of the Confederation, declaring that he should use

the power they had conferred upon him in rendering effective the

sovereign will of the nation, in repelling foreign aggressions, and

in restraining the machinations of those who might seek to awaken the

passions which had so often brought disaster upon them. He promised

that, with their assistance, the Argentine people should be presented

before the world constituted, organized, and happy. "My political

programme," he adds, "which is founded on the principles of order,

fraternity, and oblivion of all the past--and all the acts of my

public life, are the guarantee that I give you of the promise which

I have just made, and, with it you may rest assured, that when the

National Congress has sanctioned the Constitution of the State, and the

confederated communities have entered into the constitutional path,

I will deliver up to it the deposit you have confided to me, with a

tranquil conscience, and without fearing the verdict of public opinion,

or the judgment of posterity." After the dissolution of the Chambers

there were some symptoms of rebellion, but this proclamation restored

order, and was well received. He ordered all the printing offices to

be closed for a few days, and banished five of the leading opposition

representatives from the country. The provisional government had been

temporarily reinstalled: and in this position affairs were awaiting the

meeting of Congress, which was to take place in August.----In _Brazil_,

important steps have been taken toward commencing works of internal

improvement. A company has been empowered to construct railways from

Rio Janeiro to several towns in the interior, and an agreement is in

progress between the Imperial Government and a private company for the

regular navigation, by steamboats, of the Amazon. The public revenue of

Brazil continued to increase. A project for granting government credit

to aid in purchasing steamers to cruise against African slave-traders,

was under discussion in the Chambers, with a fair prospect of its

passage.----From _Ecuador_, we learn that the expedition planned

and led by General Flores against Guyaquil, has been defeated and

dispersed. The troops comprising it, consisting of Chilians and

Americans, and numbering about nine hundred, deserted Flores, and went

over to General Urbina, the President of Ecuador, to whom the six

vessels of the expedition were also given up. General Flores himself

escaped to Tumbez. From the partial narrative of an officer engaged

in the expedition, which is the only account of it yet published, the

army of Flores seems to have been singularly deficient in energy,

discretion, and valor. One of the vessels was blown up on the 3d of

July, by the discharge of a pistol by one of the men, who were drunk

in the cabin: about thirty lives were lost by this casualty.----In

_Chili_, Congress was in session at our latest date, July 1st. Bills

were under discussion to levy a direct tax on all property in cities

and towns for municipal purposes: subjecting all schools to the control

of the parish priests; and providing for the maintenance of the clergy.

The telegraph from Valparaiso to Lima was in operation, and another

line was projected to Copiapo--which is at the head of the province

whose silver deposits have yielded so abundantly of late: it is said

that the export from that province for the year will amount to six

millions of dollars. Coal, said to be very little inferior to the best

English coal, is found at Talcahuana. Labor and the necessaries of life

were very high at Valparaiso.----From _Montevideo_, accounts to the 5th

of June, state that the ratification of the Brazilian treaties puts an

end to all fear of another foreign war. The principal clauses of the

Convention agreed upon are the abandonment of the line of frontier

which the treaties of October, 1851, conceded to Brazil, and the

cession of the right of free navigation on Lake Merim to the Oriental

flag.

MEXICO.

The Mexican Republic is again agitated by threatening insurrections in

various quarters, which the central government finds itself powerless

to quell. In Mazatlan and Guadalajara strong bodies of insurgents,

supported by the National Guard, have maintained themselves against the

government, which opposes them by decrees and commercial regulations

instead of troops. Upon the frontier the ravages of the Indians

continue to be most destructive. The government has invited proposals

for the construction of a road across the isthmus of Tehuantepec, and

seems determined to resist the demands of the United States for the

recognition of the Garay grant. The Mexican papers contain copious

accounts of local disturbances and insurrections, the details of

which it is needless here to repeat. The condition of the country is

difficult and precarious in the extreme. Rumors have been circulated of

endeavors to secure the intervention of England and France, in order to

give greater strength and stability to the government, and enable it to

resist encroachments constantly apprehended from the United States: but

there is no reason to believe they have as yet proved successful.

CUBA.

The colonial government of Cuba has discovered new and formidable

conspiracies against the Spanish authority in that island, and has

made numerous arrests of suspected parties. During the months of June

and July several numbers were clandestinely published and widely

circulated, of a paper called _The Voice of the People_, the object

of which was to arouse the Cubans to resistance of the Spanish rule.

For some time the efforts of the authorities to detect its editors, or

the place of its publication, were ineffectual: but both were finally

betrayed by parties who had become acquainted with them. The principal

editor, however, had previously escaped to the United States. Nearly

all engaged upon it, so far as known, were either native Cubans or

Spaniards. The cholera was very prevalent and destructive at Havana, at

our latest dates.

GREAT BRITAIN.

Parliament has been still farther prorogued until the 18th of October,

when, it is announced, it will positively meet for the dispatch of

business. With the close of the elections, political discussion

seems to have been for the time suspended. There is great difficulty

in deciding upon the party complexion of the new House of Commons,

owing to the mixed character of the contest. The most disinterested

authorities, however, seem to warrant the belief that of the whole

number of seats (658), 314 are filled by Ministerialists, 25 by Free

Trade Conservatives, 186 by Whigs proper, 53 by Radical reformers, 57

Irish members, and 13 Independents, while there are 10 vacancies. Upon

the question of Protection, the Ministry seems to be in a hopeless

minority; while upon other subjects, their majority is not large enough

to be very reliable.----The Queen left London on the 9th of August,

for Belgium: she returned on the 17th.----The dispute with the United

States concerning the Fisheries, has engrossed a good deal of public

discussion in England--the greatest variety of views, of course,

prevailing. The general current of opinion seemed to be, that, although

a strict construction of treaties would sustain the course pursued

by the English government, yet the fact that the rights claimed had

lain in abeyance for many years, required a more considerate course

of proceeding, and some longer notice of an intended change to the

American parties interested. The latest advices represent that a mutual

understanding had been had, which would obviate all present difficulty,

and lead to the peaceful adjustment of the dispute. As to its basis

or general tenor we have no intelligence sufficiently authentic to

warrant publication here.----Kossuth had reached London, where he was

living in privacy. The English government is reported to have given

Austria satisfactory assurances that all due measures of precaution

would be taken to prevent his presence in England from disturbing the

friendly relations of the two countries.----News of fresh defeats

continues to arrive from the Cape of Good Hope. The natives not only

keep the military at bay, but have in several instances acted with

success on the offensive.----Emigration to Australia is still on the

increase. No fewer than 117 ships and vessels were entered outwards

in Great Britain at one time, of which 73 were loading at London

alone.----Active measures were in progress for enrolments under the new

Militia Act.----The first column of the new Crystal Palace was erected

at Sydenham on the 5th of August, with becoming ceremonies. A large

company was present, and speeches were made by several distinguished

persons.

THE CONTINENT.

Since the adjournment of the Legislative Assembly, events in FRANCE

have had less than usual interest. The President left Paris on

the 17th of July, to celebrate the opening of the railway between

Paris and Strasbourg, which is now completed. He was received with

eclat, reviewed the troops, and went to Baden-Baden, his main object

being, according to rumor, to arrange for a matrimonial alliance

with a daughter of Prince Gustave de Vasa. He returned to Paris on

the 24th, where he had a military reception, generally described as

lacking enthusiasm.----A change has been made in the Ministry by the

appointment of M. Achille Fould, Minister of State, in place of M.

Casabianca. M. de Cormenin, the well known pamphleteer, M. Giraud, and

M. Persil have also become Members of the Council of State, in place

of Maillard, Cornudet, and Reverchon, resigned.----M. Odillon Barrot,

declines to be a candidate for the Assembly, asking, in his letter,

what he can have to do with public affairs, "now that on the ruins

of the constitutional and Parliamentary Government of his country,

the most absolute power that exists in the world is establishing

itself, not as a transient or a casual dictatorship but as a permanent

Government, when the mendacious forms of universal suffrage and popular

election serve only to secure the return of candidates designated by

the Administration, and have only been preserved to give a false air

of liberty to the sad and humiliating reality of despotism."----A

decree has been issued authorizing to return immediately to France

the ex-representatives Creton, Duvergier, Thiers, Chambolle, Remusat,

Lasteyrie, Laidet, and Thouret. Another decree removes the interdiction

of January 10, to reside in France, against Renaud, Signard, Joly,

Theodore Bac, Belin, Besse, Milloste, ex-representatives of the

Mountain.----The municipal elections that have recently been held are

marked by the failure of voters to attend the polls. Upon an average

not one-fourth of the legal ballots have been cast; and this proves to

be the case in those departments where a second election was ordered

expressly to supply the defect in the first. This very general absence

from the polls is noted as a significant indication of the little

interest felt in the new government by the mass of the people.----The

London Chronicle has published the text of a treaty alleged to have

been signed on the 20th of May, by the sovereigns of Austria, Russia,

and Prussia, in regard to the present and prospective condition

of the French government. The contracting parties declared that,

although they would respect the rule of Louis Napoleon as a temporary

government, they would not recognize any French dynasty except the

House of Bourbon, and that they would reserve to themselves, in case of

opportunity, the right to aid the restoration of the representative of

the elder branch of that family. The authenticity of the document has

been generally discredited, and, indeed, denied by Austrian official

journals.----Addresses have been freely circulated throughout France

urging the President to restore the Empire. They are issued under

the special direction of the authorities of the departments, who are

appointed by the President; and yet it is represented that they are by

no means numerously signed, and that but a small proportion of them are

decidedly and frankly Imperialist.----The 15th of August, Napoleon's

birthday, was signalized by _fêtes_ of extraordinary magnitude and

splendor. The most elaborate and protracted preparations had been made

for it; thousands and tens of thousands came in from all sections

of the country to witness the display; and the occasion was one of

unwonted brilliancy and splendor. Grand exhibitions of the military,

fireworks, scenes and shows skillfully calculated to recall the memory

and the glory of Napoleon, and a great ball at St. Cloud signalized

the occasion. The people of Paris had been invited by official

proclamation to illuminate their houses; but the noticeably sparse

compliance with the request is remarked as more truly indicative of the

sentiments of the people, than the elaborate exhibitions arranged by

the government.----The anniversary of the taking of the Bastile on the

14th of July, an occasion often commemorated by assembled thousands,

and with great eclat, was celebrated this year by the deposit of a

single crown on the railings of the column, performed by a lady;

the symbol was instantly removed, and the lady and her husband were

arrested.----Marshal Excelmans, a soldier of the Empire, specially

attached to Murat, and a witness of the disaster of Waterloo, was

killed in Paris by a fall from his horse, on the 21st of July. His

funeral was numerously attended. Count D'Orsay, noted in the circles of

fashion, and distinguished also for literary and artistic abilities,

died on the 4th of August.

From ITALY there is little intelligence beyond that of a system of

wholesale arrests of suspected persons. At Venice, Mantua, and other

cities, great numbers of influential persons have been thrown into

prison, mainly in the hope, as is believed, that they may be induced or

forced to reveal suspected conspiracies. Warm disputes have occurred at

Rome between the French and Roman soldiers. The mother of Mazzini died

of apoplexy, at Genoa, on the 9th of August; her funeral was attended

by a very large concourse of people.----In Piedmont the Government

has resolved to resist and punish the abuse of the right of petition

against the marriage bill, which, it is alleged, is made the pretext

for agitating the country. Several instances of severity toward the

press have occurred.----In Naples, Mr. Hamilton, an English Protestant,

relying on an article in the treaty of 1845, set up a school in 1848,

for the education of Swiss and English children. By degrees, Government

influence was used to drive away his pupils. The Police have now

forcibly closed the school. Sir William Temple was informed of the

act, but it is not known what course the British Government will pursue.

In AUSTRIA the most marked event of the month was the Emperor's return

to Vienna, after his tour through Hungary, where he is represented

to have been received with the general enthusiasm of the people. The

liberal papers allege that much of the cordiality with which he was

greeted in the Hungarian portion of his dominions, was prearranged,

and that the real sentiments of the people were in no wise indicated

by it. He reached Vienna on the 14th of August, and had a magnificent

reception. He was to leave on the 16th for Ischl.----The budget for the

year shows a deficit of over fifty-five millions of florins.

In SWITZERLAND nothing of special interest has occurred. The National

Council, after three days' debate, has rejected a petition presented by

conservatives of the Canton of Fribourg, praying for an alteration of

the Cantonal Constitution, by a vote of 79 to 18. It was regarded as

an attempt to renew the troubles of the Sonderbund, under the guise of

reforming the Constitution. At the same sitting, on the 5th of August,

the Council decided upon remitting to the Cantons the remainder of the

debt created by the troubles of 1847. The money is to be applied to the

completion of certain scholastic institutions, or to the extinction of

pauperism, or to the construction of railways, common roads and canals,

subject to the approbation of the Federal Executive. It is stated that

the Prussian Minister at the Helvetic confederation, has formally

demanded the re-establishment of the ancient political relations with

Prussia in the Canton of Neufchatel. The Grand Council of that Canton,

on the 30th of July, decreed the suppression of a society of the

partisans of Prussia by 69 votes to 11.

From BELGIUM intelligence has been received that a convention has

been concluded between the Belgian and Dutch governments for the

amalgamation of the railways of the two countries. The great trunk line

beginning at Antwerp will be continued to Rotterdam, and so be put

into communication with the whole of the Netherlands. It is stated,

upon good authority, that the Bavarian government has engaged to pay

1,400,000 florins to the administration of the Palatinate Railway,

on condition that the latter shall undertake to execute the works on

the line from Ludwigshafen to Wissemburg speedily. This is the point

to which the Strasburg Railway is to be continued beyond the French

frontier.----A change has occurred in the Belgian Ministry. The

commercial regulations between France and Belgium are placed under the

_régime_ of the common law, the treaty of 1845 not having been renewed.

From TURKEY we learn that Mr. MARSH, the American Minister, left

Constantinople on the 30th of July for Athens, whither he goes to

investigate the circumstances attending the arrest and imprisonment

of the American missionary, Dr. KING. Previous to leaving he had an

audience with the Sultan.----Numerous and very destructive fires have

recently occurred in Constantinople--two or three thousand houses

having been burned.----Fresh and interesting discoveries are said to

have been made at Nineveh by M. Place, the French Consul at Mosul; he

is said to have found a series of paintings upon marble in vermillion

and marine blue.----Steam navigation has lately increased greatly

at Constantinople. More than twenty steamers now ply daily in the

Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmora. It is said that a Russian company is

about to be formed, which will have twenty vessels to run in opposition

to these now established.

Editor's Table.

The Sabbath presents the most purely religious, and, at the same time,

the least sectarian of all moral questions. It has, however, been

generally regarded under two aspects, and defended on two distinct if

not opposing grounds. One of these may be called the Scriptural or

theological, the other the physical or secular. One class of advocates

would lay the greatest stress on its divine appointment, the other

upon its worldly advantages. One would magnify its ecclesiastical, the

other its political and social importance. Without entering at length

upon either of these arguments, in our present editorial musings, it is

enough for us to state that those who would defend it as a permanent

divine institution, rely mainly on the remarkable passage in Genesis

announcing the divine rest from creation, and the sanctification of the

seventh period of time, the Fourth Commandment as confirmatory of the

same, and the early and continued example of the primitive Christian

church, as evidence of a divinely-authorized change from the seventh

day of the Jewish calendar to that on which Christ rose from the dead.

The other argument, which may be denominated the physical or secular,

is a great favorite with writers and speakers of a certain class, who

would be thought to be friends of the observance of the Sabbath, and

all moral institutions connected with it, and yet would prefer to

advocate them on grounds less strictly religious. These dwell much on

the physical advantages of a day of rest. They enter into calculations

respecting the maximum time of human and animal exertion, and the

minimum period of relaxation required to counterbalance its effects

upon the physical system. It is with them mainly a problem of political

economy,--a question of production,--of prices,--of the increase or

diminution of individual or national wealth. In these respects the

value of the Sabbath is carefully measured by statistical tables.

Figures "which can not lie" prove it to be a very useful institution,

and the divine wisdom is greatly lauded in the contrivance of such

an admirable means for preserving a healthful equilibrium in the

industrial and business world.

We would, however, by no means speak slightingly of such supposed ends,

or of such an argument in support of them. "Does God take care for

oxen?" The language of the Apostle is not an ironical negative, as some

might suppose, but an _a fortiori_ argument to show his higher care for

man, and above all, for man's spiritual well-being. We may rationally

suppose that higher purposes are harmoniously conjoined with lower in

the divine mind. It is not unworthy of the author of the universe to

have established such a harmony between the physical and the spiritual

worlds. The Bible plainly speaks of things which "have the promise

both of this life and of that which is to come," and among these the

right observance of the Sabbath would doubtless hold a distinguished

place. It is the great connecting bond between the political and the

religious, between social virtue and the individual devoutness, between

the kingdom of nature and the kingdom of grace,--in short, between

all secular and all spiritual moralities. We can not well conceive of

either squalid poverty or debasing vice in a community distinguished

for its intelligent reverence of the Sabbath. Such reverence, however,

could not well exist or long be maintained, where the secular

utilities, true and valuable as they may be, are the only or even

the chief motives appealed to. The temporal loses not only its moral

excellence, but its power even for temporal good, when wholly severed

from the spiritual.

Neither is there sufficient support for sabbatical institutions

in the merely merciful idea of bodily relaxation. We are still in

the region of secular benevolence, and without some influence from

a higher world of motive and feeling, the sacred idea of _rest_

will inevitably degenerate, and give place to its demoralizing

counterfeits--idleness--dissipation--and vice. Thus could it be

shown, that even for the best secular ends, a Sabbath divested of the

religious element would be far worse that unintermitted labor.

But we would hasten to another and a third view, which may be

characterized as being more catholic, or rather less sectarian, than

the first, and, at the same time, more spiritual, or less secular,

than the second. To firm believers in the positive divine institution

of the Sabbath (among whom we have no hesitation in avowing ourselves)

the merely worldly argument would appear, sometimes, to betray, rather

than support, the very cause it professes to advocate. On the other

hand, there are, doubtless, many inquiring minds to whom the Scriptural

argument seems more or less defective, but who would, nevertheless,

accept a more elevated and more religious view than the one we have

denominated the physical or the secular. There are good men, very good

men, and honest believers, too, in the written revelation, who have a

prejudice against any thing positively outward and ritual in religion,

on the ground of its savoring too much of what they deem the obsolete

Jewish economy. There are others who do not so accept the plenary

inspiration of the Scriptures, that they would regard as conclusive any

merely exegetical or traditionary argument. There are those, again, who

wholly reject the authority of the commonly-received revelation. There

are men who go farther than this--pantheists,--scientific theists,

who recognize only an impersonal Power and Wisdom--men on the very

verge of atheism, and some beyond all limits that the most tender

charity can regard as separating us from that doleful region. And yet

among them all--may we not say it without giving just offense to the

strictest believer--among them all there may be sober men, thinking

men, deeply serious men, for whom it is possible, and, if possible,

most desirable, to frame an argument for a Sabbath that may steer clear

of the apparent difficulties in the one view, and the really lowering

and unspiritualizing tendency of the other.

Let those, then, who feel strong in that position, ground their

reverence for the Sabbath in a positively revealed divine appointment.

Among them would we class ourselves, even while endeavoring so to

widen the platform as to embrace as many others as possible. Let

those, again, who can take no higher view than that derived from its

physical benefits, hold fast to such a faith. Frail as the plank may

seem, it may deliver them from the shipwreck of total unbelief. The

view indeed is a low one, and yet, if honestly held, may conduct the

mind to a higher estimate. It is something,--it is much,--to believe

truly that in the physical arrangements of the world, God has shown

this kind care for our material well-being. If the soul is not utterly

buried in earthliness, the thought of such a concern for the body must

_tend_, at least, to the higher idea of a still higher concern for the

blessedness of our spiritual nature.

Now it is in this thought we find that third view of the Sabbath

which must have an interest, we would charitably hope, for all the

classes that have been mentioned. Many believe that we need a day for

special religious _worship_; others hold to the necessity of a day

of _bodily rest_. But do we not all--whatever may be our creed, our

belief or our unbelief--need a day, an oft-recurring day, of _serious

thought_? Whatever may be our faith, or want of faith, every man who

has not wholly sunk down into the mere animal nature, needs periods,

oft-recurring and stated periods, in which he shall yield his whole

soul to the questions--- _What_ am I? _Where_ am I? _Whence_ came I?

_Why_ am I here? _What_ have I to do? _How_ am I doing it? _Whither_

am I going? The tremendous interest of these questions is not to be

measured by the excess or deficiency of our creeds, unless it be

that the very lack of belief invests them with a more immeasurable

importance, or that each presents a more serious problem for serious

minds, until we come down to that "horror of great darkness," the death

of all faith in a supernatural or truly spiritual world.

Take the man who calls himself the liberal or free-thinking Christian.

We have no objection to the title, or want of charity toward him who

assumes it. He needs a Sabbath for intense thought, not so much on

the argumentative evidence of particular dogmas, as on the great yet

simple questions, whether the liberality of his opinions, and the few

difficulties they present to his own mind, may not be evidence of their

having no foundation in any wide system of eternal truth,--whether

a religious creed that has no profound awe for the soul, no fearful

apprehensions, no deep moral anxieties, no absorbing interest in a life

to come, does not, from the very fact of such deficiency, prove itself

a contradiction and a lie. So too the man who is but beginning to doubt

the full inspiration of the Scriptures needs a period of most earnest

meditation on the risk he may be running of giving up an only guide,

whose place can never be made good by any thing in nature, philosophy,

or science. The professed infidel needs a Sabbath, an oft-recurring

Sabbath, of serious thought on that question of questions--Has God

indeed ever spoken to man, or spoken at all, except through physical

laws?--Has the awful stillness of nature been ever broken by a true

voice from a true supernatural world?--And the atheist, too,--has he

no need of a Sabbath, a frequent day of thought and thoughtfulness, in

which he may call up and spread before his mind, in all their fearful

importance, the sombre articles of his own dark creed? For creed

indeed he has, unsurpassed in solemnity by that of any religionist.

It has been quite common to deny the possibility of atheism, but the

history of the world and of the church is showing that it is the

only legitimate antagonism to a true belief in positive revelation.

The shallow sciolist may not perceive it, and yet this is the dark

conclusion in which some of his favorite speculations must inevitably

terminate. There is no man, therefore, who has a stronger demand upon

our most tender charity than the atheist. No belief presents greater

difficulties, and yet there is no one to which the thinking mind is

more strongly impelled, when it has once learned to distrust the lamp

of revelation, and to see only shadows and spectres in that "_light

shining in a dark place_, and to which we do well to take heed, until

the day dawn and the eternal day star arise in our souls."

No man, then, we repeat it, stands more in want of a Sabbath than

the atheist. No man has greater need of some such seasons in which

he may perhaps find a cure for his dreadful spiritual blindness by

giving himself up to all the terrific consequences of his gloomy

creed. Let him devote one day in seven to the sober contemplation of a

universe without a God, without a providence, without prayer, without

a moral government,--religion, reverence, and worship forever dead and

gone,--buried with them in their graves all that was most touching

in poetry, beautiful in art, elevating in science, or sublime in

philosophy,--all moral distinctions perished, of course, except those

base counterfeits which resolve themselves into the pursuit of physical

pleasure, or the avoidance of physical pain. Let him think of worlds

on worlds teeming with life, yet all surrendered to the wheels of a

blind and inexorable nature crushing on eternally with her mindless

laws,--revolving in her slow but endlessly-recurring cycles,--making

every seeming advance but the forerunner of the direst catastrophes

of ruin,--or else in an apparent endless progression ever sacrificing

individual parts and individual personalities to soulless wholes,

yet furnishing to our philosophy no satisfactory ground on which to

decide the question, whether the eternal drama in its most universal

estimate is any more likely to be one of happiness than of intense and

hopeless misery. Let the atheist, and the unbeliever who is on the

road to atheism, fix his mind on thoughts like these until he begins

to have some conception of what it is to be "without God and without

hope in the world." Let him dwell on this sad orphanage, until in the

intolerable loneliness of his spirit he is driven for shelter to the

idea of a personal law-making, law-executing Deity, and is forced to

admit that no doctrine of moral retribution, however stern, no creed,

even of the most gloomy and fanatical religionist, ever presented so

many difficulties as a rejection of those ideas on which all religion

is founded.

Again, we need seasons of thought and thoughtfulness, not only on

the ground that they are rational and demanded by the dignity of our

rational nature, but because, moreover, they constitute the _true

rest_ of the soul. It is a gross and pernicious error that would

make the idea of rest, especially spiritual rest, the same with

that of indolence and passivity. It is as false as it would be in

physics to confound rest with inertia. The former is the opposite

of motion simply, the latter the negation of strength and force.

Rest is equilibrium, a duality of forces;--indolence the loss of the

soul's balance, and the consequent prostration of its power. Rest

is refreshing; renewing, strengthening, recuperative;--indolence

the generator of a greater and still greater lassitude. Rest is a

positive,--indolence a negative state. Rest is resistance (_re-sto_),

recovery, internal energy,--indolence a base and effeminate yielding,

ever followed by a loss of spiritual vitality.

It is in the light of such a contrast we see how very different a thing

is this true rest of the soul from that dissipation, or vacancy of all

thought, with which some would confound it. Else it would not be held

out to us, in the Scriptures, as the peculiar bliss, or blessedness,

of the heavenly world. The idea this sweet and holy word presents to

the contemplative mind is, indeed, the opposite of a busy, bustling,

_restless_ progress, the highest conception of which is an ever lasting

movement of the intellect adding fact to fact, each as unsatisfactory

as the preceding, and never bringing the soul nearer to any perfect

quietude; but then, on the other hand, it is not the vacant passivity

of which the transcendental Buddhist dreams, any more than the indolent

lassitude of the Epicurean paradise. It is a contemplative energy,

finding repose in itself, and deriving sustaining strength from its

calm upward gaze upon the highest and most invigorating truth. In such

an _upward_ rather than _onward_ movement is found the proper end and

highest value of the Christian Sabbath.

Suave tempus consecratum

Spiritus ad requiem.

It is the nature of this elevated communion to strengthen instead of

wearying the soul, and hence to impart to it a new energy for the

performance of the duties of life.

We would confidently test the truth of these positions by an appeal

to practical experience. There is exhibited now and then, a vast deal

of sentimental philanthropy in decrying what are called the religious

abuses of the Sabbath. It proceeds generally from those who would

confine themselves to the physical or purely secular view. Great

stress is laid on mere bodily relaxation. Utter vacancy, too, of mind,

or what is worse, mere pleasure-seeking is held forth as the source

of refreshment from past labors, and of recovered strength for those

to come. The toil-worn mechanic is invited to the place of popular

amusement, or to convey himself and his family to some scene of rural

enchantment and festivity. We are pointed for appropriate examples to

the parks of London, and the boulevards of Paris. The Sabbath, they

say, is a noble institution; but then there should be great care to

guard against the perversions of Pharisaic or Puritanical bigotry. It

may be well to give a part of the day to the services of religion;

but then, the purest religion consists in admiring God's works in the

natural world; and the poor laborer who can take his wife and children

on a ride to Bloomingdale, or indulges them with a walk in the Elysian

Fields, is performing a more acceptable service than he who makes

the Sabbath a weariness by confining himself to his own dwelling, or

spending any considerable part of it within the still more gloomy walls

of some religious conventicle.

We would not impeach the motives or the philanthropy of those who talk

in this style. Doubtless they are sincere; for there is certainly

an extreme plausibility in such a view of the matter, especially as

respects that class who have no other day of relaxation. There are

parts of the picture, too, to which the sternest Sabbatarian would take

no objection, if in any way they could be practically separated from

the rest. Pure air is certainly favorable, not only to the physical,

but to the moral health. The observation of nature, to say the least,

is not opposed to devotion, although it requires some previous devotion

to make that observation what it ought to be, or to prevent its being

consistent with the most profane and godless state of the mind and

heart. Where these can be enjoyed without danger of perverted example,

or other evils, which, in respect to our crowded city population are

almost inseparable from such indulgence, he must be a bigot indeed who

would deny them to the poor, or regard them as a desecration of the

Sabbath.

But there is another side to this picture, and other truths having a

bearing upon the argument, in support of which we might let go all

a priori reasoning, and appeal directly to facts of observation. We

will not take an extreme case, or rather, what is well known to be

a common case with the Sabbath haunters of Hoboken and other rural

purlieus. We will not take the intemperate, the gambling, or the

debauched. Let two sober and industrious families be selected from

the ranks of the laboring poor. One man devotes the day to pleasant

rural excursions with his wife and children. We would not pass upon

him a sanctimonious censure, although we might doubt the philosophy as

well as the piety of his course. He has abstained from intoxicating

drinks, from the lower sensual indulgences, from profane and vicious

company. But he has sought simply relaxation for the body, and the

negative pleasure of vacancy or of passive musing for the mind. The

other pater-familias would, indeed, desire pure air for himself and

little ones, purer air than can be obtained in the confined and

populous street, and under other circumstances he would, doubtless,

freely indulge in such a luxury; but then he knows there is a higher

atmosphere still--a spiritual atmosphere--and that this, above all

others, is the day in which he is to breathe its purity, and inhale

a new inspiration from its invigorating life. He kneels with his

children around the morning household altar--he goes with them to

the Sabbath-school and to church--the remainder of the day is spent

in devotion or meditation--and the evening, perhaps, is given to the

social prayer-meeting. Oh, the gloomy drudgery! some would be ready to

exclaim. We would not deny that there might be excess even here; but

can we hesitate in deciding which of these two families will proceed

to their weekly toil on Monday morning with more invigoration of

spirit--ay, and of body, too, derived from the soul's refreshment? To

which has the day been the truest _Sabbath_, the most real _test_? In

deciding this question, we need only advert to our former analysis.

There has been, in the one case, an utter mistaking of the true idea

of rest. Experience has shown, and ever will show, that all mere

pleasure-seeking, for its own sake, all vacancy or passivity of soul,

ever exhausts, ever dissipates, and, in the end, renders both mind and

body less fitted for the rugged duties of life than continued labor

itself. In the train of these evils come also satiety, disappointment,

a sense of personal degradation that no philosophy can wholly separate

from idle enjoyment; and all these combined produce that aversion to

regular labor, which is so often to be observed as the result of an

ill-spent Sabbath. The body, it is true, belonging as it does wholly to

the world of material nature, needs the repose of passivity; but the

spirit can never indulge itself long in conscious indolence without

risking the loss of spiritual power as well as moral dignity. Its true

rest--we can not too often repeat it--is not the rest of _inertia_,

but that which comes from an intercommuning with a higher world of

thought and a higher sphere of spiritual life. This it finds in those

great truths Christianity has brought down to us, and by the weekly

exhibition of which, more than any thing else, our modern world is

distinguished from the ancient.

The picture we have presented of the Sabbath-keeping laborer is no rare

or fancy sketch. The socialist, indeed, ignores his existence. Such

writers as Fourier, and Prudhom, and Louis Blanc, and Victor Hugo, and

Martineau, know nothing about him. They see, and are determined to see,

in the condition of the poor only a physical degradation, from which

their own earthy and earthly-minded philosophy can alone relieve him.

Nothing is more wholly inconceivable to a philanthropist of this class

than what Chalmers styles "the charm of intercourse" with the lowly

pious, or the moral sublime of that character--_the Christian poor

man_. And yet it is neither rare nor strange. We make bold to affirm

that it may be realized in almost every church in our city.

In this thought, too, do we find the surest test of all true social

reforms. A dislike of the Sabbath, and especially of its religious

observance, is an indication of their character that can not be

mistaken. It is the Ithuriel's spear to detect every species of

spurious philanthropy. We would not impeach the benevolent sincerity

of these warm advocates of socialism. We would commend their zeal to

the imitation of our Christian churches. But still it is for us a

sufficient objection to the phalanx and the social commune that _they

know no Sabbath_. Periods of festivity and relaxation they acknowledge,

but no fixed days of holy spiritual rest, of serious thought, of

soul-expanding and soul-invigorating meditation on the great things of

another life. Radical as they boast to be, they present no recognition

of that most radical truth, the ground of all real reforms, and so full

of encouragement to the real reformer, that physical depression can not

possibly continue for any length of time where there has been a true

spiritual elevation--or, in other words, that this world can only be

lifted from its sunken, miry social degradation by keeping strong and

firmly fastened every chain that binds it to the world above.

To these ends it is not enough that each one should determine for

himself the portion and proportion of his own Sabbatical times. "Six

days shalt thou labor; but the seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord."

We urge it not as Scriptural proof--which would be contrary to the

leading design and method of our argument--but as illustrative of the

importance of one recurring period for all, and of the benefits to be

derived from a community of act and feeling in its observance. We need

all the strength that can come from a common prejudice, if any should

choose so to call it, in favor of certain stated and well-known times.

In distinction from the profanity that would utterly deny a Sabbath,

there is a false hyper-spiritualism that would make all seasons, all

places, and all acts, alike _holy_--or, in its sentimental cant, every

day a Sabbath, every work a worship, and every feeling a prayer. Now,

besides destroying the radical sense of the word _holy_, this is in

opposition alike to Scripture and to human experience. Both teach

us that there must be (at least in our present state) alternations

of the holy and the common, the spiritual and the worldly, and that

each interest is periled, as well by their false fusion, as by that

destruction of the true analogy which would cause the one to be out

of all proportion to the other. A stated period, too, is required to

give intensity to thought and warmth to devotion. The greatest pleasure

of a truly devout mind, is in the idea of contemporary communion with

others, and nothing is more repugnant to it than a proud reliance upon

its own individual spirituality.

To give the day, then, all its rightful power over the soul, there

is needed that hallowed character which can only come from what may

be called a sacred conventionality. Every one who has been brought

up in a religious community must feel the force of this, even if he

does not understand its philosophy. In consequence of it, the Sabbath

seems to differ, physically, as well as morally, from all other days.

In its deep religiousness every thing puts on a changed appearance.

Nature reposes in the embrace of a heavenly quietude. There seems to

be a different air, a different sky; the clouds are more serene; the

sun shines with a more placid glory. There is a holiness in the trees,

in the waters, in the everlasting hills, such as the mind associates

with no other period. Thousands have felt it, but never was it better

described than in the lines of Leyden:

With silent awe I hail the sacred morn,

That scarcely wakes while all the fields are still;

A soothing calm on every breeze is borne,

A graver murmur echoes from the hill,

And softer sings the linnet from the thorn,

The sky-lark warbles in a tone less shrill--

Hail light serene! hail sacred Sabbath morn!

Or in those verses of Graham, which, if an imitation, are certainly an

improvement--especially in the moral conception which forms the close

of his entrancing picture:

Calmness seems throned on yon unmoving cloud,

The black-bird's note comes mellower from the dale;

And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark

Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook

Murmurs more gently down the deep-sunk glen;

While from yon lowly roof whose curling smoke

O'ermounts the mist, is heard at intervals

The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise.

Editor's Easy Chair.

AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER.

THE STORY OF "THE BRIDE OF LANDECK."

The small town of Landeck, in the Vorarlberg, is surrounded by

mountains, which take exceedingly picturesque forms from their peculiar

geological structure. I can not stop in my tale to enter into any

details regarding the geology of the country; but I remember once

talking to Buckland about it, when I met him with Professor Sedgwick

at the English Cambridge, some two or three-and-twenty years ago.

Poor Buckland has, I hear, since fallen into indifferent health; but

at the period I speak of he was full of life and energy, and one of

the most entertaining men I ever met. Our acquaintance was of no long

duration; for I was hurrying through that part of the world with great

rapidity, and had hardly time to accomplish all that I proposed. I

saw a great deal of him, however, and heard a great deal of him then,

and once afterward; and there was a certain sort of enthusiastic

simplicity about him, not uncommon in men of science, which made

him the subject of many good stories, whether true or false I will

not pretend to say. His fondness for every thing connected with the

subject of Natural history amounted to a complete passion; and he was

not at all scrupulous, they said, as to whom it was exercised upon. I

heard a laughable anecdote illustrative of this propensity. There had

been, shortly before, a great meeting at Oxford of scientific men,

and of those fashionable hangers-on upon the skirts of science, who

feeling themselves but so many units in the mass of the _beau monde_,

seek to gain a little extrinsic brilliancy from stars and comets,

strata, atoms, and machinery. Buckland asked a good number of the most

distinguished of all classes to dine with him on one of the days of

this scientific fair. During the morning he delivered a lecture in his

lecture-room before all his friends upon Comparative Anatomy--showed

the relation between existing and extinct species of animals--exhibited

several very perfect specimens of fossil saurians--dissected a

very fine alligator sent to him from the Mississippi--washed his

hands--walked his friends about Oxford, and went home to dinner. His

house and all his establishment were in good style and taste. His

guests congregated; the dinner table looked splendid, with glass,

china, and plate, and the meal commenced with excellent soup.

"How do you like that soup?" asked the Doctor, after having finished

his own plate, addressing a famous _gourmand_ of the day.

"Very good, indeed," answered the other; "Turtle, is it not? I only

ask because I did not find any green fat."

The Doctor shook his head.

"I think it has somewhat of a musky taste," said another; "not

unpleasant, but peculiar."

"All alligators have," replied Buckland. "The Cayman peculiarly so.

The fellow whom I dissected this morning, and whom you have just been

eating--"

There was a general rout of the whole guests. Every one turned pale.

Half-a-dozen started up from table. Two or three ran out of the room

and vomited; and only those who had stout stomachs remained to the

close of an excellent entertainment.

"See what imagination is," said Buckland. "If I had told them it was

turtle, or terrapin, or birds'-nest soup--salt water amphibia or fresh,

or the gluten of a fish from the maw of a sea bird, they would have

pronounced it excellent, and their digestion been none the worse. Such

is prejudice."

"But was it really an alligator?" asked a lady.

"As good a calf's head as ever wore a coronet," answered Buckland.

The worthy Doctor, however, was sometimes the object, as well as the

practicer of jokes and hoaxes. I remember hearing him make a long

descriptive speech regarding some curious ancient remains which had

been displayed to him by Mr. B----, who was neither more nor less than

a notorious _charlatan_. They consisted in conical excavations, at the

bottom of which were found various nondescript implements, which passed

with the worthy Doctor as curious relics of an almost primæval age. One

third of the room at least was in a laugh during the whole time; for

the tricks of the impostor who had deceived the professor--very similar

to those of Doctor Dousterswivel--had been completely exposed about a

year before at Lewis, in Sussex; and witty Barham, the well-known Tom

Ingoldsby, handed about the room some satirical verses struck off upon

the occasion. Indeed, though eminent as a geologist and palæontologist,

Buckland went out of his depth when he dabbled in antiquarian science.

But with a weakness common to many Englishmen of letters, he aimed

greatly at universality; and in the same day I have heard him deliver a

long disquisition upon the piercing of stone walls by a peculiar sort

of snail, and a regular oration upon the spontaneous combustion of

pigeons' dung.

The celebrated Whewell, whom I met at the same time, was another who

aimed at universal knowledge, but with better success. There was no

subject could be started which he was not prepared to discuss on the

instant, and I heard of an attempt made to puzzle him, which recoiled

with a severe rap upon the perpetrators thereof. Four young but

somewhat distinguished men determined to put Whewell's readiness at

all points to the test the first time they should meet him together,

by starting some subject agreed upon between them, the most unlikely

for a clergyman and a mathematician to have studied. The subject

selected, after much deliberation, was Chinese musical instruments. The

last edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica was obtained, and studied

diligently; and then Whewell was invited to dinner. Music, musical

instruments, Chinese musical instruments, were soon under discussion.

Whewell was perfectly prepared, entered into all the most minute

details, and gave the most finished description of every instrument,

from a Mandarin gong to a one-stringed lute. At length, however, the

young men thought they had caught him at fault. He differed from the

Encyclopædia, and the statements of that great work were immediately

thrown in his teeth.

"I know that it is so put down," answered Whewell, quietly; "but it

will be altered in the next edition. When I wrote that article, I was

not sufficiently informed upon the instrument in question."

English Universities are often very severely handled by would-be

reformers. But one thing is perfectly certain, whatever may be the

faults in their constitution, they have produced, and do still produce,

men of deeper, more extensive, and more varied information than any

similar institutions in the world. Too much license, indeed, is

sometimes allowed to the young men, and sometimes, especially in former

ages, this has produced very sad and fatal results. At a small supper

party, to which I was invited at St. John's College, during my visit to

Cambridge, a little story of College life in former times was related,

which made a deep impression upon me.

Two young men, the narrator said, matriculated in the same year at

one of the colleges--I think it was at St. John's itself; but am not

quite sure. The one was a somewhat fiery, passionate youth, of the

name of Elliot: the other grave, and somewhat stern; but frank, and no

way sullen. His name was Bailey. As so frequently happens with men of

very dissimilar character, a great intimacy sprang up between them.

They were sworn friends and companions; and during the long vacation

of the second year, Bailey spent a great portion of his time at the

house of Elliot's mother. In those days, before liberal notions began

to prevail, this was considered as an honor; for Bailey was a man of

aristocratic birth, and Elliot a plebeian. There was a great attraction

in the house, however; for besides his mother, a sickly and infirm

woman, Elliot's family comprised a sister, "the cynosure of neighboring

eyes."

After their return to College, in one of their drinking bouts, then

but too common, a quarrel took place among a number of the College

youths: the officers of the University interfered, and one of them

received a dangerous blow from Bailey, which put his life in jeopardy.

It was judged necessary for him to fly immediately, and at the entreaty

of his friend he sought an asylum in the house of Elliot's mother.

After the lapse of several days, the wounded officer of the College

was pronounced out of danger, and Elliot set out to inform his friend

of the good tidings. Precaution, however, was still necessary, as

the college officers were still in pursuit; and he went alone, and

on horseback, by night, with pistols at his saddle bow, as was then

customary. The distance he had to ride was some two-and-thirty miles

and he arrived about midnight.

Like all young men of his temperament, Elliot was fond of dreaming

dreams. He had remarked the admiration of his friend for his sister,

to whom he was devotedly attached, and her evident love for him, and

he had built up a little castle in the air in regard to their union,

and her elevation to station and fortune. As he approached the house,

no windows showed a light but those of his sister's room, and putting

the horse in the stable himself, he took the pistols from the holsters,

approached the house, and quietly opened the door. A great oak

staircase, leading from the hall to the rooms above, was immediately

within sight with the top landing, on the right of which lay his

mother's chamber, and on the left that of his sister. The young man's

first and natural impulse was to look up; but what was his surprise,

indignation, and horror, when he beheld the door of his sister's room

quietly open, and the figure of Bailey glide out upon the landing. For

a moment there was a terrible struggle within him; but he restrained

himself, and in as calm a tone as he could assume, said, "Come down--I

want to speak with you."

Without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment, Bailey came down,

and followed him out into an avenue of trees which led up to the house.

The only question he asked was--"Is the man dead?"

"Come on, and I will tell you," answered the other; and when they had

got some hundred yards from the house, he suddenly turned, and struck

Bailey a violent blow on the face, exclaiming, "Villain and scoundrel!

give me instant satisfaction for what you have done this night. There's

a pistol.--No words; for by ---- either you or I do not quit this

ground alive!"

Bailey attempted to speak; but the other would not hear him, and struck

him again with the butt end of the pistol. The young man's blood was

roused. He snatched the weapon from his hand, and retired a few paces

into the full moonlight. Elliot gave the words, "One, two, three," and

the two pistols were fired almost at the same moment.

The next morning, at an early hour, Mrs. Elliot, now very ill, said to

her daughter, who had been watching by her bedside all night, "I wish,

my dear child, you would send some one to Mr. Bailey, to say I desire

to speak with him. After what passed between us three the day before

yesterday, I am sure he will willingly relieve a mother's anxiety, and

let me see you united to him before I die. It must be very speedy,

Emma; for my hours are drawing to a close, and I fear can not even be

protracted till your dear brother can be sent for."

Emma Elliot gazed at her mother for a moment with tearful eyes, and

then answered, as calmly as she could, "I can call him myself, mamma.

He sleeps in my old room now, since the wind blew down the chimney of

that he had formerly."

"No, send one of the servants," said her mother; and in a few minutes

after, Mr. Bailey was in the room. He was a man of a kind heart, and

generous feelings, and but the slightest shade of hesitation in the

world was visible in the consent he gave to an immediate union with

Emma Elliot; but both she and her mother remarked that he was deadly

pale.

The laws of England were not so strict in those times as they are

now in regard to marriage. The clergyman's house was not more than a

stone's throw from the dwelling, and the priest was instantly summoned

and came.

"It is strange," he said. "Mr. Bailey," just before the ceremony. "As I

walked up the avenue, I saw a great pool of blood."

"Nothing else?" asked Mr. Bailey, with a strange and bewildered look.

"There were poachers out last night," said the old housekeeper, who had

been brought into the room as one of the witnesses; "for I heard two

shots very close to the house."

Never was a joyful ceremony more melancholy--in the presence of the

dying--with the memory of the dead. After it was over, one little

circumstance after another occurred to arouse fears and suspicions. A

strange, hired horse was found in the stable. Then came the news from

Cambridge that young Elliot had set out the night before, no one knew

whither. Then two pistols were found in the grass by the side of the

avenue. Then drops of blood, and staggering steps were traced across

the grass court to a small shrubbery which led to the back of the

house, and there the dead body of the son and brother was found, lying

on its face, as if he had fallen forward in attempting to reach a door

in the rear of the building.

Mrs. Elliot died that night, without having heard of her son's fate.

Investigations followed: every inquiry was made; and a coroner's jury

was summoned. They returned what is called an open verdict, and the

matter passed away from the minds of the general public.

But there was one who remembered it. There was one upon whose mind

it wore and fretted like rust upon a keen sword blade. His home

was bright and cheerful; his wife was fond, faithful, and lovely;

beautiful children grew up around his path like flowers; riches were

his, and worldly honors fell thick upon him; but day by day he grew

sterner and more sad; day by day the cloud and the shadow encompassed

him more densely. Of his children he was passionately fond; and his

wife--oh, how terribly he loved her! Happy for him, she was not like

many women--like too many--whom affection spoils, whom tenderness

hardens, who learn to exact in proportion to that which is given, and

who, when the utmost is done, still, "like the horse-leeches' daughter,

cry 'more, more!'" He adored, he idolized her. Her lightest wish, her

idlest fancy--her caprices, if she had any--were all gratified as soon

as they were formed. Opposition to her will seemed to him an offense,

and disobedience to her lightest command by any of her household, was

immediately checked or punished. Was he making retribution?--Was he

trying to atone?--Was he seeking to compensate for a great injury? God

only knows. But happy, happy for him that Emma Bailey was not like

other women; that spoiling could not spoil her: that indulgence had no

debasing effect.

Still he grew more sad. It might be that every time he held her to

his heart, he remembered that he had slain her brother. It might be,

that when she gazed into his eyes, with looks of undiminished love and

confidence, he felt that there was a dark secret hidden beneath the

vail through which he fancied she saw him, which, could she have beheld

it, would have turned all that passionate affection to bitterness and

hate. It might be that he knew he was deceiving--the saddest, darkest,

most despairing consciousness that can overload the heart of man.

At length, a time came, when confidence--if ever confidence was to be

given upon this earth--was necessary upon his part. He was struck with

fever. He had over-exerted himself in some works of humanity among

his poorer neighbors. It was a sickly season. God had given one of

those general warnings, which he sometimes addresses to nations and to

worlds--warnings, trumpet-tongued; but against which men close their

ears. He fell sick--very sick. The strength of the strong man was gone:

the stout heart beat feebly though quick: the energies of the powerful

brain were at an end; and wild fancies, and chaotic memories reveled

in delirious pranks, where reason had once reigned supreme. He spoke

strange words in his wanderings; but Emma sat by his bedside night and

day, gazing upon his wan, pale face and glazed eye, smoothing his hot

pillow, holding his clammy hand, moistening his parched lip. Sometimes

overpowered with weariness, a moment's slumber blessed her away from

care; and then, when the critical sleep came, how she watched, and

wept, and prayed!

He woke at length. A nurse and physician were in the room; and the

first said he looked much better; the second said he hoped the crisis

was past. But the husband beckoned the wife to him, and she kneeled

beside him, and threw her arms over him, and leaned her head with its

balmy tresses upon his aching bosom.

"I have something to tell you," he said, in a faint voice. "It will be

forth. It has torn and rent me for many a year. Now, that the presence

of God is near to me, it must be spoken. Bring your ear nearer to me,

my Emma."

She obeyed; and he whispered to her earnestly for a few moments. None

saw what passed upon her countenance; for it was partly hidden on the

clothes of the bed, partly concealed by her beautiful arm. None heard

the words he uttered in that low, murmuring tone. But suddenly, his

wife started up with a look of horror indescribable. She had wedded

the slayer of her brother. She had clasped the hand which had shed her

kindred blood. She had loved, and caressed, and clasped with eager

passion the man who had destroyed the cradle-fellow of her youth--she

had borne him children!

One look of horror, and one long, piercing shriek, and she fell

senseless upon the floor at the bedside. They took her up: they

sprinkled water in her face; they bathed her temple with essences; and

gradually light came back into her eyes. Then they turned toward the

bed. What was it they saw there? He had seen the look. He had heard the

shriek. He had beheld the last ray of hope depart. The knell of earthly

happiness had rung. The gates of another world stood open, near at

hand; and he had passed through to that place where all tears are wiped

from all eyes. There was nothing but clay left behind.

Such was one of the tales told across the College table; and yet it

was not a very sad or solemn place; and many a lighter and a gayer

anecdote served to cheer up the heart after such sad pictures. There

was a great deal of originality, too, at the table, which amused, if it

did not interest. There was Doctor W---- there, who afterward became

headmaster of a celebrated public school, and who was in reality a very

eccentric man always affecting a most commonplace exterior. The most

extraordinary, however, was Mr. R----, celebrated for occupying many

hours every morning in shaving himself, an operation, all the accidents

of which we generally, in this country, avoid by the precaution of

trusting it to others. The process, however, of Mr. R---- who never

confided in a barber, was this. He lathered and shaved one side of his

face: then read a passage of Thucydides. Then he lathered and shaved

the other side, read another passage, and then began again; and so

on ad infinitum, or until somebody came in and dragged him out. His

notions, however, were more extraordinary even than his habits. He used

to contend, and did that night, that man having been created immortal,

and having only lost his immortality by the knowledge of good and

evil, it was in reality only the fear engendered by that knowledge

which caused him to decay, or die. In vain gray hairs, a shriveled

skin, defaulting teeth, warned him of the fragility of himself and his

hypothesis: he still maintained dogmatically, that unless man were fool

enough to be afraid, there would be no occasion for him to die at all.

He actually carried his doctrine to the grave with him; for during

another visit to Cambridge, many years after, I heard the close of his

strange history. Feeling himself somewhat feeble, he went, several

years after I saw him, to reside at Richmond, near London, where "the

air is delicate." There a chronic disease under which he had been

long laboring, assumed a serious form; and his friends and relations

persuaded him to send for a physician. The physician giving no heed to

his notions regarding corporeal immortality, prescribed for him sagely,

but without effect. The disease went on undiminished, and it became

necessary to inform him that his life was drawing to an end.

"Fiddlestick's ends," said Mr. R----. "Life has no end, but in

consequence of fear. I am not the least afraid in the world; and hang

me if I die, in spite of you all. Give me my coat and hat, John. I will

go out and take a walk."

"By no means," cried the doctor. "You will only hasten the catastrophe,

my dear sir, before any of your affairs are settled."

"Why, sir, you have hardly been able to walk across the room for this

fortnight. You will never get half way up the hill;" said his faithful

servant.

"Sir, you are at this moment in a dying state," said the provoked

doctor.

"I will soon show you," cried Mr. R----; and walking to the door in his

dressing gown, without his hat, down the stairs he went, and out into

the busy streets of Richmond. For a hundred yards he tottered on; but

then he fell upon the pavement, and was carried into a pastry-cook's

store, where he expired without uttering one word, even in defense of

his favorite theory.

The small town of Landeck, in the Vorarlberg, is surrounded by

mountains, which--

I am afraid they are too high for me to get over in the short space

which remains of this sheet, though I have written as small as

possible, in order to leave myself room to conclude the tale of the

Bride of Landeck. I must therefore put it off until I can find time to

write you another epistle, in which I trust to be able to conclude all

I have to say upon the subject; and in the mean time, with many thanks

for your polite attention in printing these gossiping letters, I must

beg you to believe me,

Your faithful servant,

P.

Editor's Drawer.

Perhaps no two of the "Mysteries of Science," as they are sometimes

called, excite more interest among all classes of curiosity-mongers,

than the _Balloon_ and the _Diving-bell_. They are the very antipodes

of each other, and yet the interest felt in each partakes of a very

kindred character. To descend to the bottom of the sea, "where never

plummet sounded;" to sink quietly and solemnly down into the chambers

of the Great Deep; to see the "sea-fan" wave its delicate wings, and

the coral groves, inhabited by the beautiful mer-men and maidens, who

take their pastime therein; to gloat over rich argosies, the treasures

of gold and silver, that brighten the caverns of the deep; to watch

the deep, deep green waves of softened light that come shimmering

and trembling down the dense watery walls--these make up much of the

_Poetry of the Diving-bell_, of which all imaginative people are

enamored, and which is not without a certain influence upon all sorts

and conditions of men.

On the other hand, to rise suddenly above the earth; to look down

upon the gradually lessening crowds and vanishing cities beneath;

to glance over the tops of mountains upon the vast inland plains,

sprinkled with villages and towns; to sail on and on, exhausting

horizon after horizon; to look down upon even the clouds of heaven,

and thunder-storms and rainbows rolling and flashing beneath your

feet, and upon glimpses of the heaving bosom of the "Great and wide

Sea"--_these_, again, are the elements of the aeronaut, that may well

be termed the "_Poetry of Ballooning_."

But leaving the "Poetry of the Diving-bell" for another "Drawer," let

us narrate an incident which we find in one of its compartments, or,

rather, the synopsis of an incident, reduced from a more voluminous

account, given at the time by a London writer of rare and varied

accomplishments. It may, indeed, be termed, from the scanty materials

preserved from the original record, a "_Memory_ of Ballooning."

Mr. Green, the great London aeronaut, who has ascended some hundred

and fifty times from Vauxhall Gardens, London; who has taken his

air-journeys at all times of the day and night; who has sailed over a

continent with passengers in his frail bark, when it was so dark, that,

according to the testimony of one of his fellow-voyagers, it seemed

as though the balloon was making its noiseless way through a mass of

impenetrable black marble--this same Mr. Green--to come back from our

long sentence--once gave out, by hand-bills and the public prints, that

on a certain afternoon in July, he would ascend from Vauxhall Gardens,

London, at four o'clock in the afternoon, with a distinguished lady and

gentleman, who had volunteered to accompany him on that occasion.

The day and the hour at length arrived. The spacious inclosures of the

Garden were crowded with an excited multitude, awaiting with the utmost

impatience for the tossing, rolling globe to mount up and be lost in

the blue creation that spread out far above the giant city, pavilioned

by its clouds of smoke. But the hour passed by, and the "distinguished

lady and gentleman" came not.

"It's an 'oax!" exclaimed hundreds, simultaneously among the crowd:

"There isn't no sich persons."

Mr. Green assured them of his good faith; read the letter that he had

received from "the parties," and his answer: but still the "madness of

the people" increased, and still the "distinguished lady and gentleman"

came not. Matters were growing more and more serious, and a "row"

seemed inevitable.

At this crisis of affairs, a solemn-visaged man, dressed in black, with

a white neckcloth, stepped forth from the dense crowd, to the edge of

the boundary which inclosed the balloon, and beckoning to Mr. Green,

said, in a very modest manner, and in a low tone:

"_I_ will go with you, sir, with pleasure; I should be _glad_ to go. I

wish to escape, for a while, at least, from this infernal noisy town."

The aeronaut was only too glad to accept the proposition, as some sort

of salvo to his disappointed auditory, whose denunciatory vociferations

were increasing every moment.

Mr. Green, standing up in the car of his tossing and impatient

vessel, now announced, that "a gentleman present, in the kindest

manner, had volunteered to make the ascent with him," and that the

"monster-balloon" would at once depart for the vague regions of the

upper air.

This announcement was hailed with acclamations by the assembled

multitudes; and giving some necessary orders to his assistants, who

had become fatigued with holding the groaning ropes that had until

now confined the "monster" to the earth, the balloon was liberated,

and rose slowly and majestically over the vast crowd of spectators

and the wilderness of brick and mortar, and towers and steeples, and

spacious parks, that lay spread out below, and gradually melted into

the celestial blue.

What followed is best represented by the partially remembered words

of the aeronaut himself, as shadowed forth in the memorandum already

referred to.

"As we rose above the metropolis, and its mighty mass began to melt

into indistinctness, my companion, whose bearing and manner had

hitherto most favorably impressed me, began to manifest symptoms of

great uneasiness. As we were passing over Hanwell, dimly seen among

the extended suburbs of the great city, his anxiety seemed to increase

in an extraordinary degree. Pointing, with trembling finger, in that

immediate direction, he said:

"'Can they _see us_ from THERE? can they _reach_ us in any way? can

they telegraph us?--CAN they, I say?'

"Surprised at the excitement, and at the abrupt alarm of one who had

been so remarkably cool and self-possessed at starting, I replied:

"'Certainly not, my dear sir; we are half a mile from the earth, at

least.'

"'Ah, ha! then I am safe! they can't catch me _now_! I escaped from

them only this morning!'

"With a vague sense of some impending evil, I asked:

"'Escaped!--how!--from where?'

"'From the lunatic asylum! They thought I was crazed, and sent me there

to be confined. Crazed! Why, there's not a man in London so sane as I

am, and they knew it. It was a trick, sir--a trick! A trick to get my

estate! But I'll be even with 'em! _I'll_ show 'em! _I'll_ thwart em!'

"Good Heavens! I was now a mile from the earth, with a madman for my

companion!--in a frail vessel, where the utmost caution and coolness

were necessary, and where the least irregularity or carelessness would

send us, through the intervening space with the speed of thought, to

lie, crushed and bleeding masses of unrecognizable humanity, upon the

earth.

"But I had not long to think of even this apparently inevitable fate;

for my companion had seized upon the sand-bags, and, one after another,

was throwing them over the side of the car.

"'Hold! rash man!' I exclaimed: 'what would you do? You are endangering

both our lives!'

"All this time the balloon was ascending with such rapidity, that the

rush of the air through the net-work was like the wild whistling of the

wind in the cordage of a ship under bare poles, in a gale at sea.

"'What do I _do_?' repeated the madman; 'I am getting away! I am going

to the moon!--I am going to the moon!--ha! ha! They can't catch us in

the moon!'

"He had exhausted nearly all the ballast except what was under or

near me, and we were rising at such an astounding speed that I

expected every moment that the balloon would burst from the increasing

expansion, when I observed him loosening his garments and taking off

his coat.

"'It's two hundred thousand miles _now_ to the moon!' said he, 'and we

must throw over some more ballast or we shan't be home till morning.'

"So saying he tore off his coat and threw it over--next his

waistcoat--and was fumbling at his pantaloons, evidently for a similar

purpose. But a new thought seemed to strike him:

"'_Two_ are too _many_ for this little balloon,' he said; 'she's going

too slow! We shall not reach the moon before morning at _this_ rate.

_Get out of this!_'

"I was wholly unnerved. I could have calmed the fears, or reasoned down

the apprehensions of a reasonable companion; but my present _compagnon

du voyage_ 'lacked discourse of reason' as much as the brute that

perisheth, and remonstrance was of no avail.

"'GET OUT OF THIS!' he repeated, in tones strangely piercing, in the

hush of the upper air; and thereupon I felt myself seized by a grasp,

so often superhumanly powerful in madmen, and found myself suddenly

poised over the side of the tilting car, and heard the _hum_ of the

tortured gas in its silken prison above us:

"'Good-night!' said the infuriated wretch; 'you'll hear from me by

telegraph from the moon! They can't catch me now! Ha! ha!--not now!

_not now!_'"

It was but a dream of an aeronaut, reader, after all, on the night

before his ascension; and this sketch is but a dream _of_ that dream;

for it is from memory, and not "from the record."

* * * * *

As the fall rains may be expected, as the almanacs predict, "about

these days" of autumn, we put on early record, for the next month,

the fact, that umbrellas are not protected by the laws of the United

States. They are not property, save that of the man of whom you buy

them. They constitute an article which, by the morality of society,

you may steal from friend or foe, and which, for the same reason, you

should not lend to either. The coolest thing--the most doubly-iced

impudence--we ever heard of, was in the case of a man who borrowed a

new silk umbrella of a town-neighbor, which, as a matter of course,

he forgot to return. One morning, in a heavy rain, he called on his

neighbor for it. He found him on the steps, going out with the borrowed

umbrella. He met him with that peculiar smile that one man gives

another who suddenly claims his umbrella on a wet day, and said:

"Where are you going, Mr. B----?"

"I came for my umbrella," was the brief reply.

"But don't you see I am going out with it at this moment? It's a very

nasty morning."

"Going _out_ with my umbrella! What am _I_ to do, I should like to

know?"

"_Do?_--do as _I_ did--_borrow_ one!" said the borrower, as he walked

away, leaving the lender well-nigh paralyzed at the great height of his

neighbor's impudence.

A church is the place, of a rainy Sunday, where many indifferent and

valuable "exchanges" are made, in the article of umbrellas. Perhaps

many of our readers will remember the remark made at the close of

morning service, on a drizzly Sabbath, by a pious brother:

"My friends, there was taken from this place of worship this morning

a large black silk-umbrella, nearly new; and in place of it was left

a small blue cotton umbrella, much tattered and worn, and of a coarse

texture. The black silk umbrella was undoubtedly taken by mistake, but

such mistakes are getting a leetle too common!"[6]

[6] "Ollapodiana;" Knickerbocker Magazine.

* * * * *

As we shall very soon have a new President coming into office for a

new four-year's lease of care and "glory," we venture to insinuate

what he may expect from the throngs of office-seekers by whom he will

be surrounded; and we shall take but a single instance out of many

hundreds that might be offered. A man writing from Washington at the

coming in of our last National Chief Magistrate, gave this graphic

sketch of a "Sucker" office-seeker: