Chapter 10

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It was a large, deep and circular space, like the bottom of an exhausted well. In niches cut into the walls of earth around, lay, duly confined, those who had been the earliest victims of the plague, when the Becchino's market was not yet glutted, and priest followed, and friend mourned, the dead. But on the floor below,therewas the loathsome horror! Huddled and matted together,—some naked, some in shrouds already black and rotten,—lay the later guests, the unshriven and unblest! The torches, the sun, streamed broad and red over corruption in all its stages, from the pale blue tint and swollen shape, to the moistened undistinguishable mass, or the riddled bones, where yet clung, in strips and tatters, the black and mangled flesh. In many the face remained almost perfect, while the rest of the body was but bone; the long hair, the human face, surmounting the grisly skeleton. There, was the infant, still on the mother's breast; there, was the lover stretched across the dainty limbs of his adored! The rats (for they clustered in numbers to that feast,) disturbed, not scared, sate up from their horrid meal as the light glimmered over them, and thousands of them lay round, stark and dead, poisoned by that they fed on! There, too, the wild satire of the grave-diggers had cast, though stripped of their gold and jewels, the emblems that spoke of departed rank;—the broken wand of the Councillor; the General's baton; the Priestly Mitre! The foul and livid exhalations gathered like flesh itself, fungous and putrid, upon the walls, and the——

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But who shall detail the ineffable and unimaginable horrors that reigned over the Palace where the Great King received the prisoners whom the sword of the Pestilence had subdued.

But through all that crowded court—crowded with beauty and with birth, with the strength of the young and the honors of the old, and the valor of the brave, and the wisdom of the learned, and the wit of the scorner, and the piety of the faithful—one only figure attracted Adrian's eye. Apart from the rest, a late comer—the long locks streaming far and dark over arm and breast—lay a female, the face turned partially aside, the little seen not recognisable even by the mother of the dead,—but wrapped round in that fatal mantle, on which, though blackened and tarnished, was yet visible the starry heraldry assumed by those who claimed the name of the proud Tribune of Rome. Adrian saw no more—he fell back in the arms of the grave diggers: when he recovered, he was still without the gates of Florence—reclined upon a green mound—his guide stood beside him—holding his steed by the bridle as it grazed patiently on the neglected grass. The other brethren of the axe had resumed their seat under the shed.

"So you have revived; ah! I thought it was only the effluvia; few stand it as we do. And so, as your search is over, deeming you would not be quitting Florence if you have any sense left to you, I went for your good horse. I have fed him since your departure from the palace. Indeed I fancied he would be my perquisite, but there are plenty as good. Come, young Sir, mount. I feel a pity for you, I know not why, except that you are the only one I have met for weeks who seem to care for another more than for yourself. I hope you are satisfied now that I showed some brains, eh! in your service, and as I have kept my promise, you'll keep yours."

"Friend," said Adrian, "here is gold enough to make thee rich; here too is a jewel that merchants will tell thee princes might vie to purchase. Thou seemest honest, despite thy calling, or thou mightest have robbed and murdered me long since. Do me one favor more."

"By my poor mother's soul, yes."

"Take yon—yon clay from that fearful place. Inter it in some quiet and remote spot—apart—alone! You promise me—you swear it—it is well. And now help me on my horse."

"Farewell Italy, and if I die not with this stroke, may I die as befits at once honor and despair—with trumpet and banner round me—in a well-fought field against a worthy foe!—save a knightly death nothing is left to live for!"

Here, in many incidents of extraordinary force—in the call of the Becchini on the third night—in the most agonizing circumstance of Irene's abandonment of Adrian—in the bodily weakness and mental prostration of that young nobleman—in the desolation of the streets—in the meeting with Rienzi—in the colossal dignity of the words, "I am he that was Rienzi!"—in the affectionate attention of the fallen hero—and lastly, in the appalling horror of the vault and its details—may be seen and will be felt much, but not all, of the exceeding power of the "Last of the Tribunes."

ROGET'S PHYSIOLOGY.

Animal and Vegetable Physiology, considered with reference to Natural Theology. By Peter Mark Roget, M.D. Secretary to the Royal Society, &c. &c. 2 vols, large octavo. Philadelphia: Republished by Carey, Lea, and Blanchard.

As we have no doubt that the great majority of our readers are acquainted with the circumstances attendingthe publication of the Bridgewater Treatises, we shall content ourselves with a very brief statement of those circumstances, by way of introduction to some few observations respecting this, the fifth of the Series.

Francis Henry, Earl of Bridgewater, who died some time in the beginning of the year 1829, directed certain Trustees mentioned in his Will, to invest eight thousand pounds sterling in the public funds, which eight thousand pounds, with the interest accruing, was to be under the control of the President, for the time being, of the Royal Society of London. The money thus invested, was to be paid by the President to such personor personsas he, the President, should appoint to "write, print and publish, one thousand copies of a work,On the Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Creation; illustrating such work by all reasonable arguments, as, for instance, the variety and formation of God's creatures, in the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms; the effect of digestion, and thereby of conversion; the construction of the hand of man, and an infinite variety of other arguments; as also by discoveries ancient and modern, in arts, sciences, and the whole extent of literature." The profits of the works were to be paid to the authors.

Davies Gilbert, Esq. being President of the Royal Society, advised with the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, and "a nobleman immediately connected with the deceased," in regard to the best mode of carrying into effect the design of the testator. It was finally resolved to divide the eight thousand pounds among eight gentlemen, who were to compose eight Treatises as follows. Thomas Chalmers, D.D. Professor of Divinity in the University of Edinburgh, was to write on "The Power, Wisdom, and Goodness of God, as manifested in the Adaptation of External Nature to the Moral and Intellectual Constitution of Man,"—John Kidd, M.D. F. R. S. Regius Professor of Medicine in the University of Oxford, on "The Adaptation of External Nature to the Physical Condition of Man,"—William Whewell, M.A. F. R. S. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, on "Astronomy and General Physics considered with reference to Natural Theology,"—Sir Charles Bell, K. G. H. F. R. S. L. and E. on "The Hand: its Mechanism and Vital Endowments as Evincing Design,"—Peter Mark Roget, M.D. Fellow of and Secretary to the Royal Society, on "Animal and Vegetable Physiology,"—William Buckland, D.D. F. R. S. Professor of Geology in the University of Oxford, on "Geology and Mineralogy,"—William Kirby, M.A. F. R. S., on "The History, Habits, and Instincts of Animals"—and William Prout, M.D. F. R. S., on "Chemistry, Meteorology, and the Function of Digestion, considered with Reference to Natural Theology."

However excellent and praiseworthy the intention of the Earl of Bridgewater, and however liberal the sum bequeathed, there can be little doubt that in the wording of his bequest, in the encumbering of the work so nobly proposed with aspecification of the arguments to be employed in its execution, he has offered a very serious impediment to the fulfilment of the spirit of his design. It is perhaps, too, a matter of regret, that the introduction of the words "person or persons" in the paragraph touching the contemplated publication, should have left it optional with the President of the Royal Society to divide the eight thousand pounds among so many. We are sorry that the eight treatises were determined upon for several reasons. First, we do not believe any such arrangement to have been contemplated by the testator—his words "write, print, and publish one thousand copies ofa work," &c., inducing the opinion that one single book or treatise was intended: and we the rather hold to this belief, as it might easily be proved (we will speak farther of this hereafter,) that the whole argument set forth in the words of the Testament, and indeed the whole arguments of the whole eight Treatises now published, might have been readily discussed in one connected work of no greater bulk than thePhysiologywhose title forms the heading of this article. In the second place—the bequest of the eight thousand pounds, whichen masse, is magnificent, and which might thus have operated as a sufficient inducement for some one competent person to devote asufficiency of timeto the steady and gradual completion of a noble and extraordinary work—this bequest, we say, is somewhat of a common-place affair when we regard it in its subdivision. Thirdly, one thousand pounds is but little for the labor necessary in a work like any one of the Treatises, and we are mistaken if the "profits of the sales" meet in any degree either the merits or the expectations of the respective authors. If they do, however, it is a matter altogether foreign to and apart from the liberality of the testator—a liberality whose proper development should have been scrupulously borne in view by the Trustee. Fourthly—the result of the combination of a number of intellects is seldom in any case—never in a case like the present—equal to the sum of the results of the same intellects laboring individually—the difference, generally, being in precise ratio with the number of the intellects engaged. It follows that each writer of a Bridgewater Treatise has been employed at a disadvantage. Lastly—an accurate examination of the nature and argument of each Treatise as allotted, will convince onea priorithat the whole must, in any attempt at a full discussion, unavoidably run one into the other—this indeed in so very great a degree that each Treatise respectively would embody a vast quantity of matter, (handled in a style necessarily similar) to be found in each and all of the remaining seven Treatises. Here again is not only labor wasted by the writers—but, by the readers of the works, much time and trouble unprofitably thrown away. We say that this might have been proveda prioriby an inspection of the arguments of the Treatises. It has been fully proved,a posteriori, by the fact: and this fact will go far in establishing what we asserted in our first reason for disapproving of the subdivision—to wit: that the whole argument of the whole eight Treatises might have been readily discussed in one connected work of no greater bulk than thePhysiologynow before us.

We cannot bring ourselves to think Dr. Roget's book thebestof the Bridgewater series, although we have heard it so called. Indeed in the very singular and too partial arrangement of the subjects, it would have been really a matter for wonder if Dr. Whewell had not written thebest, and Sir Charles Bell the worst of the Treatises. The talents of Dr. Roget, however, are a sufficient guarantee that he has furnished no ordinary work. We are grieved to learn from the Preface that his progress has been greatly impeded by "long protracted anxieties and afflictions, and by the almost overwhelming pressure of domestic calamity."

The chief difficulty of the Physiologist in handling a subject of so vast and almost interminable extent as the science to which his labors have been devoted—a science comprehending all the animal and vegetable beings in existence—has evidently been the difficulty of selection from an exuberance of materials. He has excluded from the Treatise—(it was necessary to exclude a great deal)—"all those particulars of the natural history both of animals and plants, and all description of those structures, of which the relation to final causes cannot be distinctly traced." In a word, he has admitted such facts alone as afford palpable evidence of Almighty design. He has also abstained from entering into historical accounts of the progress of discovery—the present state of Physiological science being his only aim. The work is illustrated by nearly 500 wood cuts by Mr. Byfield, and references in the Index to passages in the volumes where terms of mere technical science have been explained. Appended are also a catalogue of the engravings, and a tabular view of the classification of animals adopted by Cuvier in his "Regne Animal" with examples included. This Table is reprinted from that in the author's "Introductory Lecture on Human and Comparative Physiology," published in 1826. Such alterations, however, have been introduced as were requisite to make the Table correspond with Cuvier's second edition.

CAREY'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

We have been delighted with the perusal of this book, and consider it one of the most instructive as well as one of the most amusing of autobiographies. The ruling feature of the work is candor—a candor of the rarest and noblest description. The author has not scrupled, or even hesitated, in a single instance to declare, without prevarication, the truth and the whole truth, however little redounding to his own credit. Nor in the details so frankly laid before the eye of the public, are the many—very many other excellent qualities less manifest, which have exalted the autobiographer to so enviable a station in the opinions of his fellow-citizens. In the whole private and public course of Mr. Mathew Carey, from that chivalrous Essay against Duelling, of which he has rendered so amusing an account in the commencement of his "Life," to the more important yet equally Quixottic publication of the Olive Branch, the strictest scrutiny can detect nothing derogatory to the character of "the noblest work of God, an honest man." His energy, his high-mindedness, and his indomitable perseverance, will force themselves upon the most casual observer. It is not surprising that, with qualifications so well adapted for success in life, Mr. C. should have been enabled finally to set at defiance the innumerable obstacles which obstructed his path. Indeed, although few men have labored under greater incidental disadvantages, very few have been better prepared to overcome them by both moral and physical constitution.

There is much in these Memoirs of Mr. Carey, which will bring to the mind of the reader Benjamin Franklin, his shrewdness, his difficulties, and his indefatigability. It is therefore almost unnecessary to add, that apart from its other merits, the Autobiography now before us has all the value so unequivocally due togood example. Its perusal cannot well fail of having a salutary effect upon those who struggle with adversity—of imparting a salutary strength to all who grow feeble under the pressure of the innumerable harassing cares which encumber and weigh so ponderously upon the "man of the world." It may, indeed, if rightly considered, have a still more beneficial influence. It may incite to good deeds. It may induce a love of our fellow-men, in many bosoms hitherto self-hardened against the urgent demands of philanthropy. What so likely to bring about a kindly spirit in any human heart as the contemplation of a kindly spirit in others?

It is perhaps already known to many that Mr. Carey was born in Dublin in 1760. His hatred of oppression, which broke out, as early as his seventeenth year, in the "Essay against Duelling," to which we have already alluded, and which, in 1779, rendered him obnoxious to the British Government, and forced him into a temporary exile, at length, in 1784, made it necessary for him to abandon his country altogether, and seek an asylum in America. He arrived in Philadelphia, greatly embarrassed in his pecuniary circumstances; and an incident by means of which he obtained relief, has proved of so deep interest to ourselves, that we cannot but think it may prove equally so to our readers. We copy the following from page 10 of the Autobiography.

Behold me now landed in Philadelphia, with about a dozen guineas in my pocket, without relation, or friend, and even without an acquaintance, except mycompagnons de voyage, of whom very few were eligible associates.

While I was contemplating a removal into the country, where I could have boarded at about a dollar or a dollar and a quarter a week, intending to wait the arrival of my funds, a most extraordinary and unlooked-for circumstance occurred, which changed my purpose, gave a new direction to my views, and, in some degree, colored the course of my future life. It reflects great credit on the Marquess de La Fayette, who was then at Mount Vernon, to take leave of Gen. Washington. A young gentleman of the name of Wallace, a fellow passenger of mine, had brought letters of recommendation to the General; and having gone to his seat to deliver them, fell into the Marquess's company, and in the course of conversation, the affairs of Ireland came on the tapis. The Marquess, who had, in the Philadelphia papers, seen an account of my adventures with the Parliament, and the persecution I had undergone, inquired of Wallace, what had become of the poor persecuted Dublin printer? He replied, "he came passenger with me, and is now in Philadelphia," stating the boarding house where I had pitched my tent. On the arrival of the Marquess in this city, he sent me a billet, requesting to see me at his lodgings, whither I went. He received me with great kindness; condoled with me on the persecution I had undergone; inquired into my prospects;—and having told him that I proposed, on receipt of my funds, to set up a newspaper, he approved the idea, and promised to recommend me to his friends, Robert Morris, Thomas Fitzsimons, &c. &c. After half an hour's conversation, we parted. Next morning, while I was at breakfast, a letter from him was handed me, which, to my very great surprise, contained four one hundred dollar notes of the Bank of North America. This was the more extraordinary and liberal, as not a word had passed between us on the subject of giving or receiving, borrowing or lending money. And a remarkable feature in the affair was, that the letter did not contain a word of reference to the enclosure.

In the course of the day I went to his lodgings, and found that he had, an hour or two previously, departed for Princeton, where Congress then sat, having been in some measure driven from Philadelphia, by a mutinyamong the soldiers, who were clamorous for their pay, and had kept them in a state of siege for three hours in the State House. I wrote to him to New York, whither, I understood, he had gone from Princeton, expressive of my gratitude in the strongest terms, and received a very kind and friendly answer.

I cannot pass over this noble trait in the character of the illustrious Marquess, without urging it strongly on the overgrown wealthy of our country, as an example worthy of imitation. Here was a foreign nobleman, who had devoted years of the prime of his life, and greatly impaired his fortune, in the service of a country, separated by thousands of miles distance from his native land. After these mighty sacrifices, he meets, by an extraordinary accident, with a poor persecuted young man, destitute of friends and protectors—his heart expands towards him—he freely gives him means of making a living without the most remote expectation of return, or of ever again seeing the object of his bounty. He withdraws from the city to avoid the expression of the gratitude of the beneficiary. I have more than once assumed, and I now repeat, that I doubt whether in the whole life of this (I had almost said) unparalleled man, there is to be found any thing, which, all the circumstances of the case considered, more highly elevates his character.1

1It is due to myself to state, that though this was in every sense of the word a gift, I regarded it as a loan, payable to the Marquess's countrymen, according to the exalted sentiment of Dr. Franklin, who, when he presented a bill for ten pounds to the Rev. Mr. Nixon, an Irish Clergyman, (who was in distress in Paris, and wanted to migrate to America,) told him to pay the sum to any Americans whom he might find in distress, and thus "let good offices go round." I fully paid the debt to Frenchmen in distress—consigned one or two hogsheads of tobacco to the Marquess, (I believe it was two, but am uncertain,) and, moreover, when in 1824, he reached this country, with shattered fortunes, sent him to New York, a check for the full sum of four hundred dollars, which he retained till he reached Philadelphia, and was very reluctant to use, and finally consented only at my earnest instance.

The annexed little anecdote, which Mr. Carey justly considers an instance of the truest pathos, we must be pardoned for inserting as an appropriatependantto the above.

To an importunate mendicant, whom I had sometimes relieved, I said one day, on giving him a trifle—"Do not let me see you again for a long time." He conformed to the direction, and refrained from applying for about seven months. At length he ventured to bring and hand me a billet, of which I annex a copy verbatim et literatim.

"Sir—You desired me, last time you relieved me, not to callfor a long time. It was a few days after Easter. To a wretch in distress 'it is a very long time.'

Yours gratefully,

Nov. 14.

R. W."

At page 21, is an account of a publication, some of whose predictions were certainly imbued with a rare spirit of prophecy.

In October 1786, I commenced, in partnership with T. Siddons, Charles Cist, C. Talbot, W. Spotswood, and J. Trenchard, the Columbian Magazine. In the first number, I wrote four pieces, "The Life of General Greene," "The Shipwreck, a Lamentable Story, Founded on Fact," "A Philosophical Dream," and "Hard Times, a Fragment."

The Philosophical Dream was an anticipation of the state of the country in the year 1850, on the plan of Mercier's celebrated work, "The Year 2500." Some of the predictions, which at that period must have been regarded as farcical, have been wonderfully fulfilled, and others are likely to be realized previous to the arrival of the year 1850. I annex a few of them, which may serve to amuse the reader.

"Pittsburg, Jan. 15, 1850. The canal which is making from the river Ohio, to the Susquehanna, and thence to the Delaware, will be of immense advantage to the United States. If the same progress continues to be made hereafter as has been for some time past, it will be completed in less than two years."

This was probably the first suggestion of the grand project of uniting the waters of the Delaware with those of the Ohio. It preceded by four years the project of the financier, Robert Morris, and his friends, to unite the Delaware with the Schuylkill and the Susquehanna, which was broached in 1790.

"Pittsburg, Jan. 15. Delegates from the thirtieth new state, laid off a few months since by order of Congress, lately arrived at Columbia; and on producing their credentials, were received into the Federal Council.

"Charleston, April 15. No less than 10,000 blacks have been transported from this state and Virginia, during the last two years, to Africa, where they have formed a settlement near the mouth of the river Goree. Very few blacks remain in this country now: and we sincerely hope that in a few years every vestige of the infamous traffic carried on by our ancestors in the human species, will be done away.

"Richmond, April 30. By authentic advices from Kentucky, we are informed,—that 'no less than 150 vessels have been built on the river Ohio, during the last year, and sent down that river and the Mississippi, laden with valuable produce, which has been carried to the West Indies, where the vessels and their cargoes have been disposed of to great advantage.'

"Boston, April 30. At length the canal across the Isthmus of Darien is completed. It is about sixty miles long. First-rate vessels of war can with ease sail through. Two vessels belonging to this port, two to Philadelphia, and one to New York, sailed through on the 20th of January last, bound for Canton, in China.

"Columbia, May 1. Extract from the Journals of Congress.—'Ordered that there be twenty professors in the University of Columbia, in this city; viz. of Divinity, of Church History, of Hebrew, of Greek, of Humanity, of Logic, of Moral Philosophy, of Natural Philosophy, of Mathematics, of Civil History, of Natural History, of Common and Civil Law, of the Law of Nature and Nations, of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, of Botany, of Materia Medica, of Physic, of Chemistry, of Anatomy, and of Midwifery.'"

Philadelphia, Oct. 1, 1786.

There is much characteristic simplicity in Mr. Carey's manner of telling the anecdote annexed.

In travelling from New York to Philadelphia, some years since, the slenderness of my knowledge of the French led me into a most egregious error, and excited the displeasure of a splendid French lady who was in the stage. She had lived a long time in New York, and yet spoke the English language very imperfectly. I told her she ought to speak English constantly, when she was in company with English or Americans: that this was the only way in which she could acquire it. "Monsieur," says she, "j'ai honte," I am ashamed; literally, "I have shame." Reiterating her own word, I replied, "Madame, je croyais que les dames Françoises n' avaient pas de honte"—whereas I ought to have said, as I really meant, "mauvaise honte." She was exasperated, and told me indignantly that the French ladies had as much "shame" (meaning modesty) as the Americans; and that there was more immorality practised in New York than in Marseilles, of which she was a native, or in Martinique, where she had long resided. It was in vain that I repeatedly pledged my honor that I had not meant to affront her; that I was led into error solely by repeating her own word. It was equally in vain that I appealed to some of the passengers who understood French, who testified that the mistake was perfectly natural, and was justified by the imperfection of my knowledge of her language. Nothing could pacify her, and after several vain attempts, I relinquished the hope of soothing her feelings, and she scarcely spoke another word during the rest of the journey.

Our friend and particular acquaintance, Joseph Miller, Esq. (who, by the way, signs his name, we think, Joseph A. Miller, or Joseph B. Miller, or at least Joseph C. Miller) paid us a visit a few days ago. His behavior was excessively odd. Walking into oursanctumwithout saying a word, he seated himself with a dogged air in our own exclusive arm-chair, and surveyed us, for some minutes, in silence, and in a very suspicious manner, over the rim of his spectacles. There was evidently something in the wind. "Whatcanthe man want?" thought we, without saying so.

"I will tell you," said Joseph Miller, Esq.—that is to say, Joseph D. Miller, Joseph E. Miller, or possibly Joseph F. Miller, Esq. "I will tell you," said he. Now, it is a positive fact that we had not so much as attempted to open any of our mouths.

"I will tell you," said he, reading our thoughts.

"Ah, thank you!" we replied, slightly smiling, and feeling excessively uncomfortable—"thank you!—we should like to know."

"I believe," resumed he—resumed Joseph G. Miller—"I believe you are not altogether unacquainted with our family."

"Why,notaltogether, certainly—pray, sir, proceed."

"It is one of the oldest families in —— in ——"

"In Great Britain," we interposed, seeing him at a loss.

"In the United States," said Mr. Miller—that is, Joseph H. Miller, Esq.

"In the United States!—why, sir, you are joking surely: we thought the Miller family were particularly British—The Jest-Book you know ——"

"You are in error," interrupted he—interrupted Joseph I. Miller—"we are British, but not particularly British. You should know that the Miller family are indigenous every where, and have little connection with either time or place. This is a riddle which you may be able to read hereafter. At present let it pass, and listen to me. You know I have many peculiar notions and opinions—many particularly bright fancies which, by the way, the rabble have thought proper to call whims, oddities, and eccentricities. But, sir, they are not. You have heard of my passion for autographs?"

"We have."

"Well, sir, to be brief. Have you, or have you not, seen a certain rascally piece of business in the London Athenæum?"

"Very possible," we replied.

"And, pray sir, what do you think of it?"

"Think of what?"

"No, sir, not ofwhat," said he—said Joseph K. Miller, Esq. getting very angry, "not ofwhatat all; but of that absurd, nefarious, and superfluous piece of autographical rascality therein—that is to say in the London Athenæum—deliberately, falsely, and maliciously fathered upon me, and laid to my charge—to the charge ofme, I say, Joseph L. Miller." Here, Mr. M. arose, and, unbuttoning his coat in a great rage, took from his breast pocket a bundle of MSS. and laid them emphatically upon the table.

"Ah ha!" said we, getting particularly nervous, "we begin to understand you. We comprehend. Sit down! You, Joseph M.—that is to say, Joseph N. Miller—have had—that is to say, ought to have had, eh?—and the London Athenæum is—that is to say, it is not, &c.—and—and—and—oh, precisely!"

"Mydearsir," said Mr. Miller, affectionately, "you are a fool—a confounded fool. Hold your tongue!Thisis the state of the case. I, Joseph O. Miller, being smitten, as all the world knows, with a passion for autographs, am supposed, in that detestable article to which I am alluding, and which appeared some time ago in the London Athenæum,—am supposed, I say, to have indited sundry epistles, to several and sundry characters of literary notoriety about London, with the sinister design, hope, and intention, of thereby eliciting autograph replies—the said epistles, presumed to be indited by me, each and individually being neither more nor less than one and the same thing, and consisting——"

"Yes sir," said we, "and consisting——"

"And consisting," resumed Mr. Joseph P. Miller, "of certain silly inquiries respecting the character of certain ——"

"Of certain cooks, scullions, and chambermaids," said we, having now some faint recollection of the article alluded to.

"Precisely," said our visiter—"of certain cooks, scullions, chambermaids, and boot-blacks."

"And concerning whose character you are supposed to be excessively anxious."

"Yes, sir—I—excessively anxious!—only think of that!—I, Joseph Q. Miller, excessively anxious!"

"Horrible!" we ejaculated.

"Damnable!" said Mr. M.

"But what papers arethese?" demanded we, taking courage, and eyeing the bundle of MSS. which our friend had thrown upon the table.

"Those papers," said Mr. Miller, after a pause, and with considerable dignity of manner, "those papers are, to tell you the truth, the result of some—of some ingenuity on the part of your humble servant. They are autographs—but they areAmericanautographs, and as such may be of some little value in your eyes. Pray accept them—they are entirely at your service. I beg leave, however, to assure you that I have resorted to no petty arts for the consummation of a glorious purpose. No man can accuseme, sir,me, Joseph R. Miller, of meanness or of superficiality. My letters have invariably been—have been—that is to say, have been every thing they should be. Moreover, they have not been what they should not be. I have propounded no inquiries about scullions. I wrote not to the sublimated Mr. ——, [here we do not feel justified in indicating more fully the name mentioned by Mr. M.] touching a chambermaid, nor to Mr. ——, in relation to a character. On the contrary, I have adapted my means to my ends. I have—I have—in short, sir, I have accomplished many great and glorious things, all of which you shall behold in the sequel." We bowed, and our visiter continued.

"The autographs here included are, you will perceive, the autographs of our principalliterati. They will prove interesting to the public. It would be as well to insert the letters in your Messenger, with facsimiles of the signatures. Of my own letters eliciting these replies I have unfortunately preserved no copies." Here Mr. M. handed us the MSS.

"Mr. Joseph S. Miller"—we began, deeply penetrated by his kindness.

"JosephT. Miller, if you please," interrupted he, with an emphasis on the T.

"Well, sir," said we—"so be it; Mr. Joseph V. Miller, then, since you will have it so, we are highly sensible of your noble, of your disinterested generosity. We are ——"

"Say no more," interrupted our friend, with a sigh—"say no more, I beseech you. The MSS. are entirely at your service. You have been very kind to me, and when I forget a kindness my name is no longer Joseph W. Miller."

"Then your nameis—is positively Joseph W. Miller?"—we inquired with some hesitation.

"It is"—he replied, with a toss of the head, which we thought slightly supercilious—"It is—Joseph X. Miller. But why do you ask? Good day! In a style epistolary and non-epistolary I must bid you adieu—that is to say I must depart (andnotremain) your obedient servant, Joseph Y. Miller."

"Extremely ambiguous!" we thought, as he whipped out of the room—"Mr. Miller! Mr. Miller!"—and we hallooed after him at the top of our voice. Mr. Miller returned at the call, but most unfortunately we had forgotten what we had been so anxious to say.

"Mr. Miller," said we, at length, "shall we not send you a number of the Magazine containing your correspondence?"

"Certainly!"—he replied—"drop it in the Post Office."

"But, sir," said we, highly embarrassed,—"to what—to what address shall we direct it?"

"Address!" ejaculated he—"you astonish me! Addressme, sir, if you please—Joseph Z. Miller."

The package handed us by Mr. M. we inspected with a great deal of pleasure. The letters were neatly arranged and endorsed, and numbered from one to twenty-four. We print themverbatim, and with facsimiles of the signatures, in compliance with our friend's suggestion. The dates, throughout, were overscored, and we have been forced, accordingly, to leave them blank. The remarks appended to each letter are our own.

LETTER I.

Philadelphia, ——.

Dear Sir,—I regret that you had the trouble of addressing me twice respecting the Review of your publication. The truth is it was only yesterday I enjoyed the opportunity of reading it, and bearing public testimony to its merits. I think the work might have a wider circulation if, in the next edition, it were printedwithoutthe preface. Of your talents and other merits I have long entertained a high opinion.

Respectfully, your faithful servant,Robert Walsh

JOSEPHA. MILLER, ESQ.

There is nothing very peculiar in thephysiqueof this letter. The hand-writing is bold, large, sprawling, and irregular. It is rather rotund than angular, and is by no means illegible. One would suppose it written in a violent hurry. The t's are crossed with a sweeping scratch of the pen, giving the whole letter an odd appearance if held upside-down, or in any position other than the proper one. The whole air of the letter isdictatorial. The paper is of good but not superior quality. The seal is of brown wax mingled with gold, and bears a Latin motto, of which only the wordstransandmortuusare legible.

LETTER II.

Hartford, ——.

My Dear Sir,—Your letter of the — ult. with the accompanying parcel, reached me in safety, and I thank you for that polite attention, which is the more gratifying, as I have hitherto not had the pleasure of your acquaintance. The perusal of the pamphlet afforded me great delight, and I think it displays so much good sense, mingled with so much fine taste, as would render it an acceptable present to readers even more fastidious than myself. The purely Christian opinions with which the work abounds, will not fail of recommending it to all lovers of virtue, and of the truth.

I remain yours, with respect and esteem,L. H. Sigourney

JOSEPHB. MILLER, ESQ.

Much pains seem to have been taken in the MS. of this epistle.Black lineshave been used, apparently. Every t is crossed and every i dotted with precision. The punctuation is faultless. Yet thetout-ensembleof the letter has nothing of formality or undue effeminacy. The characters are free, well-sized, and handsomely formed, preserving throughout a perfectly uniform and beautiful appearance, although generally unconnected with each other. Were one to form an estimate of the character of Mrs. Sigourney's compositions from the character of her hand writing, the estimate would not be very far from the truth. Freedom, dignity, precision, and grace of thought, without abrupt or startling transitions, might be attributed to her with propriety. The paper is good, the seal small—of green and gold wax—and without impression.

LETTER III.

New York, ——.

Dear Sir,—I have delayed replying to your letter of the — ult. until I could find time to make the necessary inquiries about the circumstances to which you allude. I am sorry to inform you that these inquiries have been altogether fruitless, and that I am consequently unable, at present, to give you the desired information. If, hereafter, any thing shall come to light which may aid you in your researches, it will give me great pleasure to communicate with you upon the subject.

I am, Dear Sir, your friend and servant,J. K. Paulding

JOSEPHC. MILLER, ESQ.

There is much in the hand-writing here like that of Mrs. Sigourney, and yet, as a whole, it is very different. In both MSS. perfect uniformity and regularity exist, and in both, the character of the writing isformed—that is to say,decided. Both are beautiful, and, at a casual glance, both have a somewhat similareffect. But Mrs. Sigourney's MS. is one of the most legible, and Mr. Paulding's one of the most illegible in the world. His small a's, t's and c's are all alike, and thestyleof the characters generally is French. No correct notion of Mr. Paulding's literary peculiarities could be obtained from an inspection of his MS. It has probably been modified by strong adventitious circumstances. The paper is of a very fine glossy texture, and of a blue tint, with gilt edges.

LETTER IV.

Boston, ——.

It is due from me to advise you that the communication of the — ult. addressed by you to myself involves some error. It is evident that you have mistaken me for some other person of the same surname, as I am altogether ignorant of the circumstances to which you refer.

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