mechanic arts is partially hidden; we have in the railway, the telegraph, the telephone, and the many articles for use and ornament they have given us, some insight into the possibilities of scientific achievement; but prediction is vain. This Caliban of our day is neither treacherous nor malignant, but the ready servant of the intelligent will; its powers are for good and not for evil, and in aiding its growth and progress man finds noble employment. wealth and accomplishment, and died rich. Taylor left about $150,000. Fillmore was always an economical man, and added to his wealth by his last marriage. Pierce saved about $50,000. Buchanan left about $200,000, Lincoln about $75,000, and Johnson about $50,000. The St. Gothard Tunnel-One of the greatest engin eering feats of the day is the completion of the St. Gothard Tunnel, uniting Switzerland and Italy, and making the shortInanimate Objects. We grow attached unconsciously est distance between the valley of the Rhine and the Medi to the inanimate objects we see about us every day. We terranean, which is destined to become one of the most immay not think so at the time; we may be discontented, and used to talk of their faults; but let us be on the eve of quit-second time those bold mountain barriers have been pierced portant railway arteries of the continent. This will be the ting them, perhaps forever, and we find that they are dearer to us than we ever dreamed. The love for the inanimate is in the behalf of commerce and international intercourse. a general feeling. True, it makes no return of affection, Italy, Switzerland and Germany have each a hand in its construction, Italy contributing 45,000,000 francs, and Germany and Switzerland each 20,000,000. The whole length of the tunnel is something over nine and a quarter miles. neither does it disappoint; its associations are from our thoughts and our emotions. We connect the fireside with the confidence which has poured forth the full soul in the dim twilight; on the wall we have watched the shadows, less fantastic than the creations in which we have indulged; beside the table we have read, worked or written; in that old arm-chair some loved one has oft reclined. Around each and all is flung the strong link of habit, and it is not to be broken without a pang. Fortunes Left by the Presidents.-Washington left an estate worth $800,000. John Adams died only moderately well off. Jefferson died so poor that, if Congress had not given $20,000 for his library, he would have been bankrupt. Madison was economical, and died rich. Monroe died so poor that he was buried at the expense of his relatives. John Quincy Adams left about $50,000, the result of prudence. His son, Charles Francis Adams, gained a large fortune by marriage. Jackson died only tolerably well off. Van Buren died worth some $300,000. It is said that, during his entire administration, he never drew any portion of his salary, but on leaving took the whole $100,000 in a lump. Polk left about $150,000. Tyler married a lady of The Great Italian Ironclad.-The long-anticipated trial of the great Italian ironclad, Duilio, the most powerful ship, without exception, in the world, has just resulted in success. As she has cost upward of four million dollars, and has a companion ship, the Dandolo, representing an equal outlay, the anxiety as to the result of her trial per formance has been great. She was expected to make twelve and a half knots an hour, and has, in effect, made fourteen miles at six-sevenths power, thus giving a promise of fifteen miles if required. Her four 100-ton guns throw each a projectile weighing about a ton and a quarter, and she has a dozen smaller guns which, in some navies, would be considered formidable. The ship, however, is a very expensive one to keep in commission, the cost alone of firing one of her guns being $300. Her consumption of coal, and the weight of powder and steel going to a broadside, are each enormous. She is 339 feet long and 64 feet broad; draws 26 feet, and has a displacement of 10,650 tons, and is driven by engines of 7,500 indicated horse power. LITERATURE AND ART. A Fool's Errand. By ONE OF THE FOOLS. A Novel. 362 pp., 16m0. New York: Fords, Howard & Hulbert. Comedy and tragedy go hand in hand through the pages of this book, which is at once a thrilling novel and a subtle and entirely unique presentation of facts, and the reasons for them. Like every faithful portraiture of human life, it is full of sunshine as well as shadow, and interwoven in the narrative is the old, yet ever new, romance of youth and love. The brave men and true women revealed in the book excite our admiration, and are a continual attraction in the tale, contrasting with the deep tragic shadows that.lie across its course. It is a tale of life at the South since the late war, and is full of the racy humor of the country people, the rich and laughter-provoking characteristics of negro fun, and the pathos of negro prayer-meetings, the dashing excitement of the hunt, the oddities of up-country mass meetings, the social lines of caste, the hot passions of politics, the dark and bloody doings of an enraged people, and their startling logic of self-justification. It is a peculiar book, and will undoubtedly stir up a variety of opinions. It will astonish readers, of whatever political faith, for it portrays with great power that which the author claims is unknown to the mass of intelligent people in either section of the land, namely the South as it is. An officer in the federal army through the late war, a bona fide settler and dweller in the South for about fifteen years since the war (with wife, family and fortune all embarked in the venture), the author, a man of sturdy principle, quick intelligence, and keen perceptions, tells a story that will excite the profoundest interest. It is a faithful and vivid picture, drawn from life. It helps the reader, be he able sermon. The reader will find neither spiders nor Northern or Southern, to a new comprehension of the real | pudding, but may rejoice with us that Madge was rescued and essential differences between the Northern and Southern from the sisterhood by her lover, and may lament with us "civilizations," their mutual relations in the immediate past, that after marriage they really had a tempestuous scene over and probable reciprocal effect in the immediate future. The a few pounds of underdone corned beef. How unpoetic! Native Southron, the "Poor White," the Carpet Bagger, the Yet that were better than becoming a "Sister" from pique "Old Unioner," the Freedman, the Ku-Klux-the social, or disappointment; there is much that is suggestive as well moral, and political life of the South-are all drawn with a as readable in this book, and we recommend it to the martouch as humorous and pathetic as that of Dickens, and a | ried, the about-to-be-married, and the single. relentless satire as keen as Thackeray's; while the whole is full of a marvelous common sense applied to politics and "the situation." The personal kindness and advancement received by the author at the South (for he has occupied places of trust and prominence, both politically and professionally) have made him sensitive to the generous phases of Southern character, as well as given him opportunity for inside views of Southern sentiment and reasoning, which he sets forth in an eminently fair and appreciative spirit. Whoever will yield to the swing and power of the narrative, and read the book through, will acknowledge that he has received new light on the prominent question of the day in this whole country. With personal knowledge of the evil and the good of both North and South, the author teaches each side much of the other's way of looking at things. His trenchant sword cuts two ways, and cleaves to the marrow. He strikes right and left without fear or favor. He does not spare the follies of his friends, nor fail to respect the honest prejudices of his foes. In short, "A Fool's Errand" will be found to be a live book on a live subject. Nobody's Business. By JEANNETTE HADERMANN. No. 9 Satchel Series. New York: Authors' Publishing Company. Nobody's Business" ought to be everybody's business, and we trust that it may soon become so. Not every one can find their fortune through an intimate knowledge of the 'gators; but patient bravery must win at last. Each page is a sermon to the large class that sit idle, wistfully wishing that their condition could be improved. Read "Nobody's Business," recall Hercules's advice, "Put your own shoulder to the wheel," then go to work in good earnest; the crowd will give way, and there's always room at the top. The author, Jeannette Hadermann, has earned our congratulations. Persis. By RAMBLER. No. 20 Satchel Series. New York: Authors' Publishing Company. "Persis" wins the greater share of our attention, yet she is only one among several characters that the author introduces to us by a skillful portraiture that not every author possesses. The absconding husband, who cowardly deserts wife and child; Mrs. Vandycken, the rarest of noble women; Jim, the honest-hearted hunter; the Wainwrights, father and The Little Countess. By OCTAVE FEUILLET, Author of" The Count De Camors; or, The Man of the Second Empire;" ""The Amours of Philippe; or, Philippe's Love Affairs." Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson & Brothers. This is the latest, and in many respects the best, novel from the pen of Octave Feuillet. It is a graphic story of study the phenomena of a man who marries a second wife French life, and written as only one of the most brilliant of living French authors could have written it. Feuillet disdains plots, mysteries, marvels, and discards as unworthy of his dainty hands the rude machinery used by other novelists. He portrays his life-pictures in such a graceful and fascinating way, that the interest of his readers is enchained from the very outset of his narrative, and held to its conclusion. Our Peggotties. By KEZIAH SHELTON. No. 11 of the Satchel Series. New York: Authors' Publishing Company. This suggests to our mind Dickens's portraiture of the faithful Peggotty and "Barkis is willin'." These were New Englanders, and rich specimens of their class. The work indicates repression; and we are positive that the author has concealed more than she has revealed. Don't fail to read it. Spiders and Rice Pudding. By SARAH G. BARBOUR. It is replete with fancies that each reader according to his taste may use as a text, and evolve therefrom a profit son; the male gossips of the "Club," and others, are brought out with the vividness of the drama. The curious can here whilst he thinks his heart is full of love for the first. One Little Indian. By Roy MAITLAND. No. 22 Satchel Camp and Cabin. By ROSSITER W. RAYMOND. New This is a collection of six brilliant sketches, mostly of Western scenes and characters, the one exception to these | (“Widow Baker") is an exception only as regards the local characteristics, it being a New England tale; in brilliancy and piquant flavor it is as rich as its companions. He renews our interest in the "Yellowstone Park," and we had just thought of asking permission to join the next party, when we discover it will be useless. He touchingly alludes to the fair being who will then "hang" on his arm and superciliously scan the scene and make her disparaging remarks; we shall not intrude upon that select party of "two souls"-. "The Ascent of Gray's Peak," was so entertaining, and the rise so gradual that we were not fatigued in the least. The whole are fascinating and refreshing. Messrs. Lee & Shepard, publishers, of Boston, announce in press for immediate publication, "The True Story of the Exodus of Israel, together with a Brief View of the History of Monumental Egypt." Compiled from the work of Dr. Henry Brugsch-bey, with an introduction and notes by Francis H. Underwood. The work will prove especially valuable for the new light thrown upon the immense antiquity of the kingdom, and its wonderful monuments with their wealth of historic inscriptions. It will be illustrated with a map of Ancient Egypt, reproduced from the original in Dr. Brugsch's "Egypt under the Pharaohs." Golden Days.-We are in receipt of the first two numbers of a new periodical entitled Golden Days, published in this city by James Elverson, Esq., the well-known publisher of Saturday Night. It is designed for the boys and girls, and its object, as stated, is to supply a pure and refined literature that shall counteract the baleful and demoralizing trash that is now flooding the land and corrupting youthful morals. If it shall accomplish this, we shall have "golden days" indeed. In his laudable efforts in this direction, its publisher shall at least have our best wishes for his success. The paper is handsomely arranged, and makes a very creditable show. Every boy and girl that loves periodical literature should take it. Names of Newspapers.-Upon looking over a list of American periodicals, one cannot help being surprised at the small number of names that have become popular titles for our newspapers. As a people we are certainly not lacking in imagination; yet, in this respect, there is a woful lack of novelty and variety. There seems to be three classes of ap pellations that are in general use: one, as Gazette, Journal, Herald, representing the general idea of a newspaper being an organ of intelligence; another conveying a hint of the principles of which the particular paper is the exponent, as Republican, Democrat, Agriculturalist, Gospel Banner; and a third signifying nothing, but merely reflecting the idiosyncrasies of the proprietor, as Oasis, Sensation, Goiaen Age, etc. Eight names embrace nearly a half of all the periodicals published in this country. There are in the United States about four hundred Journals, two hundred and seventy-five Democrats, two hundred and twenty-five each Heralds, Gazettes and Republicans, one hundred and ninety Times, one hundred and sixty News, and one hundred and thirty Presses. Mrs. Stowe on the Duties of Editors.-What is exacted of an editor now-a-days seems to be a sort of general omniscience. He must keep the run of everything-politics, science, religion, art, agriculture, general literature. The world is alive and moving everywhere, and he must know just what's going on and be able to have an opinion ready made and ready to go to press at any moment. He must tell to a T just what they are doing in Ashantee and Dahomey, and what they don't do and ought to do in New York. He must be wise and instructive about currency, and taxes and tariff, and able to guide Congress; and then he must take care of the Church-know just what the Old Catholics are up to, the last new kink of the Ritualists, and the right and wrong of all the free fights in the different denominations. It really makes my little head spin just to hear what they are getting up articles about. Then there are all sorts of writing men and women sending pecks and bushels of articles to be printed, and getting furious if they are not printed, though the greater part of them are such hopeless trash that you only need to read four lines to know that they are good for nothing; but they all expect them to be remailed with explanations and criticisms, and the ladies sometimes write letters of wrath that are perfectly fearful. The third volume of the political correspondence of Frederick the Great has lately appeared. It embraces the very remarkable year of 1744, at the time when England, Saxony, and Hungary were forming a coalition against Prussia. Many letters treat of the efforts made to win the Russian Court. The letters are also very numerous which speak of the rupture with England, the understanding with France, and the events of the campaign. The correspondence will certainly excite much interest, as it contains the criticism of Frederick the Great on the state of politics in Europe. Paradise Lost.-At Chalfont, Ellwood first saw the MS. of "Paradise Lost," which must have been completed in 1665. No doubt the mighty theme had dwelt on Milton's mind for years; but the wonderful work was only achieved after the ruin of all the worldly prospects, when he was surrounded by every privation incident to age, poverty, and blindness. Choosing late and pondering something-this was the noble "something" which "posterity should not willingly let die." It was in the Bunhill Row dwelling, the plague having subsided, that the poem was composed, The copyright was sold to Simmons for £5. his daughters or any friendly strangers writing to his diction. Autographs. While examining a private collection of autographs, we took the liberty of transcribing therefrom the following beautiful quatrain, written by the late lamented poetess, Alice Carey. We believe it has never before ap peared in print: Where no low thoughts of self intrude, While love that seeks its selfish good These lines were over the name of George P. Morris, who Naught that in good can claim a part, GOSSIP AND NOTE BOOK. In the Original Tongue.-A good story is told of a minister who was a candidate in a rural district of Northern Pennsylvania. He had been advised that the display of more erudition would help him into the favor of his hearers. But his education had been neglected, and it was only by drawing upon his knowledge of the Welsh tongue, which he had been taught as a child, that he hoped to properly impress his congregation. His scheme worked nicely. At different points in his sermon he remarked that the Latin or Greek or Hebrew, as the case might be, was much more expressive than the English translation, and then he would give a few sentences of Welsh. Everything was going along smoothly, and the minister, as he approached the end of his sermon, thought he would give them just one more taste of the dead languages. "I am about to read you," said he, "another passage on this subject. But it is another of those passages that have been altered in the translation, and I will read it to you in the Chaldaic, in which it was written." He was just about to give them a little more Welsh, when, casting his eye over the congregation, he saw seated near the door a jolly-looking man, who was holding his sides tight to keep from bursting with laughter. The minister took in the situation in an instant. Here was a man in the church who understood Welsh, and who was laughing at the trick that had been played upon the congre. gation. But not a feature in the minister's face changed. Fixing his eyes straight upon the laughing man, just as the congregation thought he was about to give them the Chaldaic version, he said again in Welsh: "For God's sake, my friend, don't say a word about this until I have a chance to talk with you." The congregation went home satisfied that they had listened to one of the most learned of sermons; the laughing man never told the story, and the minister was scon settled over the church, the people believing that a clergyman who could read the Scriptures in half a dozen languages was just the man for them. Effectual Preventive.-There still exists in some parts of Germany a law to prevent drinking during divine service, which reads as follows: "Any person drinking in any alehouse during divine service on Sunday, or other holiday, may legally depart without paying." Now, here is an idea that some of our temperance alliances might possibly profit by; as the natural result, if some such a law were followed and enforced, would be to effectually close all liquor saloons on Sundays during church hours, and voluntarily by the proprietors themselves. he is liable to be on the wrong tack.-Boston Globe. And if, instead of a tack, he sits down on a crooked pin, he is on the wrong bent.-Herald, "P. I." And if he is sent out to catch a weasel asleep and finds it to be a highly-perfumed animal, he is on the wrong scent.-Hackensack Republican. Yes, and if he steps on a fashionable woman's dress, he is on the wrong trail; and if he castigates the partner of his bosom, he is on the wrong beat. Frank Buckland, the celebrated English naturalist, declares it as a fact that babies swim naturally. A friend put one into warm water, and it took to it like a duck, swimming briskly. The Polynesians, it is known, find that their children can swim and enjoy the exercise at a very early age. Fowl Conundrums. We have seen many good hen conundrums going the rounds, and thought it worth the trouble to make a brief selection of the best : Why is a hen immortal? Her son never sets. Why have chickens no hope in the future? They have their next world (necks twirled) in this. Why is a hen on a fence like a cent? Head on one side and tail on the other. Why don't hens lay at night? Because then they are roosters. Why is the first chicken of a brood like the mainmast of a ship? She is a little forward of the main hatch. Why is a chicken just hatched like a bull's tail? Never seen before. Why should not a chicken cross the road? It would be a fowl proceeding. If a ship captain had no eggs, what should he do? Lay to (two). And, to conclude, a hen is a poor economist, because for every grain she gives a peck. A Slight Interpolation.-A well-known gentleman of Philadelphia is accustomed to entertain his friends, and they are many, every Saturday evening. Out of regard to the proprieties, he had provided a placard to hang on the walls, reading, "Come at seven; go at eleven!" At the last reunion a young editor was present, who was naturally rather opposed to winding up the festivities at so early an hour, so took the opportunity waggishly to insert in his host's notice a little word that very materially altered its object, so that it read, "Come at seven; go it at eleven!" and they went it. "Is there any difference between also and likewise ?” asked a lawyer of a friend. "O, certainly," he replied. "For instance, there is Charles O'Conor. He is a lawyer; you are a lawyer also, but not likewise." That was a mean theatrical manager who, when a man, leaning too far over the gallery railing, fell down into one of the orchestra chairs, wanted the poor fellow to pay the extra price of the seat. FAREWELL TO MY WATCH. Farewell, my watch and guard, for we must part! You have been both to me since youth commenced; For no wrong thought e'er entered in my heart But what you firmly "set your face against." My patent-lever, I must lean on you To raise me money or to raise the wind; To my mind you might still be mine to view If your "four-jewel'd holes" could but be mined. Hard is my case, I own, and your case, too; Yet, in good time, yours will be bright at last, For your good works can intercede for you, But all I've done, to say the least, was "fast." How oft, when crystal stars were in the sky, I've looked on your white face, mine sherry red, Or, coming from some supper, on the reel, And yet how modest in them not to keep I've tried professions, but professed too much; By trade-winds blown, I've tried each trade by jumps; Phrenology--but there my sense of touch Liked filling bumpers more than feeling bumps. So next came politics; a speech I made, Began quite bravely, but soon got put out;" So here I am; and, with your golden key, I've kept you long, so you must now "keep" me: G. B. A man of genius and intellect who never talks that others may profit by his knowledge, is like a book with the leaves uncut. Two heads are better than one-especially in a barrel, for instance. We never hear of women going into the business of the manufacture of whisky. The reason is evident, for then they would be obliged to keep still. Meat for repentance-in hash and mince pie. We have no right to consider that a lawyer must be either a horse or an ass simply because he "draws a conveyance." "A bird in the hand, worth two," etc.-A gold eagle. And to his idol in an idle minute, The man who cuts himself off from the blessings of matrimony for fear of its trifling annoyances, shows more folly than he who, to secure himself against corns, had his leg amputated. A child was lately born in Illinois with a long proboscia, similar to that of an elephant, in place of a nose. This is doubtless the first instance of a traveller from the other world journeying this way carrying with him his own trunk. A young man, having been detected in a crime, narrowly escaped punishment through the intercession of the minister of whose church he had been a member. A gentleman, hearing these facts, remarked that it was the first time he knew what was really meant by the term, "benefit of clergy." "Ah," said Carlos to Francesca, "you blusb, fair maiden. Was it my gaze that planted those roses in thy fair cheeks? Come, let me pluck them!" "Well," answered the bashful Francesca, demurely, "it is no more than right that where you sow you should reap." And he reaped. Making light of troubles-burning up your unpaid bills. A report that can't be contradicted—the report of a gun. A dead language-cold tongue. An actor having been cut up by the newspapers, the next night was announced to appear at the same theatre in two pieces. A wag says that a "son of a gun" must be a pistol. Is it not more properly an heir gun?.. Queer Names.-" Bearup & Carraher" is the name of a firm now doing business in Monroe street, New York. Wonder if it refers to a mother-in-law! Westminster Abbey is a wholesale grocer in the same city. The Rev, Noble Frame is a Philadelphia clergyman. Plumber & Butcher are wheelwrights and blacksmiths in Brooklyn, New York. It is better to be laughed at for not being married than to be unable to laugh because you are. To feign to have a fainting fit is not a fitting feint. "O, what a beautiful bird!" said Clara to her adorable Charles, as they looked admiringly in the window of a birdfancier's. And it was a beauty, a rare importation. " See how much they want for it, Charley." "One hundred dollars, sir." "O, Charley, do buy it for me! I want to have it stuffed to put on my hat." We are asked if a husband should keep his wife informed as to his business affairs. Not the slightest necessity. It won't take her long before she knows three times as much about it as he knows himself. Tennyson smokes so much they begin to call him the To-bacca-laureate. |