Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 15, 1873, Page 7

- - THE CHICAGO DAILY- TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JUNE 15, 1873. i 7 A WESTERN TRIP. Chicago to the Rocky m s Mountains. The Plains and Their Inbabitants--- gow Mr. Mudeater Proved, Himself a Wolf, people cn the Train---Emigrants, Con- sumptives, and Newly-Mar- ried People. penver and Its Peculiarities-.-Health- " Seekers---Pike’s Peak and the Specimen-Hunters. Special Correspondence of The Chicago Tribune. t ‘Dexves, Col., May, 1873, Tcame out here as one of an excursion party, _ons-tenth,—and, if the Lord permits, I won't rsvel with & party egain,—barring my wife and qiumily, of course. Wecame from Illinois,—a place to come from, and'a better place to gitbackto. Wecame by rail, mostly. Somo of the party suggested an emigrant-wagon ; but e is too short, 80 we took a Pallman drawing- yom car. There is more poetry about the enigrant-wagon ; but, on the whole, Pullman's fstitution is preferable. We left Illinoison the sther side of the Mississippi, hurried throngh i sombre and ancient city of St. Louis (in . assouri), and followed the setting sun (this has been used before) overthe Bt. Louis, ) Eanees City & Northern Bailway, over the 8. Charles bridge, snd past numerous station- houses, farms, and trees. The people along the THEIB HANDS IN THEIR POCKETS. * The ability and patience with which they keep Aheir hands in their pockets is surprising, con- gilering they have & fertile country which they ight be cultivating; but cultivation involves slowing, and plowing is hard work, s I found «cat ance when I sat down behind a plow, while the point was going towards the centre of the plinet, and the horses were ranning away with the barness. That was my first and last attempt sifarming. I discharged my employer, paid him of, and forsook the agricultural profession. Inthe mesntime we reached Kansas City. Sbout this time the party was joyous. Two or three of them, with nosea of extraordinary in- telligence and of immense range, wero con- vinced that they smelt the Rocky Mountains, 600 miles away ; and the asthmatic young man ss- serted that he felt relieved in the vicinity of his dismond breast-pin. We got aboard the Eansas Pucific train, and woke up in the morning O THE PLAINS. Thers is 8 great deal of land ont-doors on the Plains, It rolls in billows like the ocean,.and is monotonous and tiresome.. Look out of the Plte-glasn window in the marning, and you see plains covered’ with sage-brush and stunted gnss; look out every five minutes during the diy, ard you see stunted grass and sage-brush ; andyougoto bed at nmight wearied with the sight, to dream of the vast, unfonced expaise, | s0d wonder where it ends. The only scenery ofi | £he route is occasional herds of buffalo, a squsd of anielope, or a colony of prairie-dogs. The sations are fow and far between. A lady on the {nin was running up the road to call on & neigh- bor 120 miles sway, and most of her neighbors were farther off, The inhabitants aro few, and ot select. There are half-breed indians and BUFFALO-HUNTIERS,— the laiter » ferocious set. :Familiar with the gght of blood, butchery being their trade, when fhiey cannot kill bufTalo they kill each other, and oxasionally, by Wway of variety, somebody else. 1r. Mudeater, for instance, weat into a ealoon, sad sbeerved, « Pmawolt! " An unsophisticat- d youth replied that he did not seo anythin vary wolfish about him. Mudeater re bydmving » nevy sovolver, and, without warn- ing, lodged & bullet in the young man's heart. In‘thst climate, a bullet in ‘s man's heart pro- duces death. The victim never stirred, and the anisblo Mudeater etill roams unhung, and will - 10UALLY WALLUS (U £onis wndil- ehod-dewn in tracks. I made up my mind that, if s man took me into his counfidence and informed me that ho was a wolf, I shonld entirely agree with him; that I should indorse the proposition, and, if necessary, subscribe &n afidavit to that effect. Under such’ circumstances, I am the most accommodating person in the world. 1Itis not that I am afraid,—not & bit,—but I like to sccommodate people. Socioty on the Plains” is bighly edacated in the use of fire-arms. And yebitin 5 great conntry. All it needs is water and good society, which would make Hades dteelf inhabitable. I went through the train to see what - KIND OF PEOFLE were goin_F ont to stay and enjoy the amenities of life. There were emigranis from Europe, dirty and haggard after their journey toward the Land of Promise,—the men smoling their misery avay; the women attending to the wants of chiliren,—sometimes their only wealth. They dropped off here and there, . at some colony to which they were consigned. There were con- Eumptives,tho hectic banner of death hanging out . ontheircheeks, and the traces of . diseasa in their i wesk forms and attenuated limbs. Many of | . them were going to graves under the shadow of the mountains. Many of them were alone. Their friends in all kindness sent them ont, never to return. The palace-cars were full of towrista. A young couple were on their wod- ding-tour. That was easily seen ; they were 8o very attentive to _each other, and each was go E’hmhfl{nfi-ud the other would catch coll i upon her putting on her shawl twen- tytimes & day, and in the interval she pressed to put on his overcost. * Dear, you'll catch 0ld!” was the plaintive burden of their song. They will get over all that in_good time. Then thers wero gentlemen_with ehot-guns snd dogs inthe baggage-car. They had murderous inten- tions toward buffalo at a”distance. three ledies, representing three genenfiunfi grandmother, mother, and daughter,—cultival and wealthy, with a streak of banucg ‘&m}zrn‘m Thlnd {eltu;e r;n.n.ix}g Ntbraug . The grandmother, born in New Eng- 1and, migrated to Ilinois; the mother, born m Envm, Was migrating to Colorado; and the o L:es'hw;l will thus mome the xoumz:r u(:f ;n- & erstion, which may migrate e Pa~ cific Blope. According to this, it takes four gen- erations to croas the Continent. The measure- ment is not mathematically exact, but is as near 1 can get atit. There was s colored gentle- m Q:I‘f.lge uh.r, one o!u:lr. Pullman’s pmtegaal. hink he owned the B i h ;fi“ b it car, but sometimes 3 party—to which Iam unhappily attached ~behaved themselves thronghout Pw":nxy P BECOMING IMPROPRIETY. were Jooking ont of the windows for the b Mountains and for baffalo. They greeted d,dmb buffalo-calf at one of the stations with u:il;r One of them took a sketch of the beast; ety sphod to his wife that buffalo wers ndm ; athird offered €5 for the little pet; another started in on & poem beginning O Buftalo m!ghtfi monarch of the Plain! kw‘m‘)fl}nm e meet again 7 2 the morning an idiotic excursionist appearad oy by a soow-ball. “What do I want nde Bnow 1” said he. **So!” said “T don't disputs ,Iwncur in your opinion as to =ow out-doors !" eaid b ‘:‘:[I':A o o 8aid he. 's the pro] Biefor 167 eaid T, ¢ Bat won't you, get. up 868 it 7" gaid he. ‘ What for 7" said b . & s it eaidho. © Not muchl" said L s 1" 8aid he. “My friend,” esid I, wor young ; you're enthusiaatic. I won't get ire. L fch purpose. I have seen &now %“l“\'uean it in Ilinois. There was & tohy for several months last winter, snd Lo 1o ]ust 88 fine o quality of anow in Tifinios rih ado. Tllinois don't knuckle under & cent on snow, young man! Now, out and gaze . on .that..snow, going to aleep.” Ha. soon to let me know the -eun Was 1 go for Py S : - 1 told him it wasn't my fault ; I couldn’t hu{‘&"‘ T couldn't stop it from. rising. ' never fnmy e & Fse ; Tnover saw it riee but twice 20 lmbiz;' and then it made me hungry ; I had o hry o8 whatover to se it risa.o 1 0ld him e, o !hetch of it, rising ; that would satisfy. 0 g owed me the sketch during the day, 8t get Perfectly coutent. Then he wanf = n§unp and see the morning. I told him 1t %,“51; Iwas no judgo of momnings; I One morning from anoth2r, except by the day of the month ; there was a samoness about mornings that.confused me ; I wanted no morning in mine. He could take a sketch of that, t00, if he liked. In an hour after, he woke me again to say we were within' ten minutes of the breadfast-station. I was the first of the En::y at the tabie,—the artist and the poet the - Before leaving the Plains,—before waterin :eu-_ :n& 'cuflh.n“"im a farewell tear,—let m% mar] ! ve great expectations of these Plains, and have no'doubt chxn% e e IN THE COUBSE OF CENTURIES, ‘when the buffalo, and you and I, gentle reader, wre extinet, “nnd ‘{ll;tep the soil is nourished by artesian-wells, what is now a comparative dese! will bloom like a rose-bush. = ® & AndnowXlamin - _DENVEB,— at least 8o I have been informed. ‘I would not Xnow Denver from Adam, but for the kindness of & friend who told me. None of the party were over here before, unless when they were ‘goats, 28 the Darwinian gentleman remarked. I am not going to write up Denver. Volumes have been devoted to this .frontier city at the foot of the mountains,. with ite wonderful enterprise aud Western energy snd pluck; its cor- ous * cosmopolitan _ population, congregated from all -quarters of the globe; _its queer opposites,—its Tonghness and refino- man:i—iw consumptive cnltore from the East in 8e: of health, its rongh mining votaries of wealth, its savage visitors from the home of the red-man near by, and “its Mongolian residentas, with their pig-tails, almond-shaped eyes, an petite forms, who wash clothea (not themsolves) for & living. Civilization predominates, of course. - There .are afair share of churches and s four-story school-building ; _women shapely and tell, fhe rarificd atmosphere allow- ing them to shoot- up-to an immense altitude,— their heads laden with hair inchevanx de frise style,—their hats ns emall, their gloves as tight, their dresees, laces, and shawls as costly and as fashionable, as those worn by their sisters in tho East who are- supposed to reside - within the ery precincts of Fashion. The piano sounds where -the war-whoop was heard a score of years pngo, ond the steam-whistle has frightened the native citizens of the forest and plain—the bear, the buffalo, the antelope, and the coyote—{rom the ancient homes. of their piogeaitors. . The Rocky Mountain range in the distance furnishes ever-changing scenery for the inhabitants. There is the making of a firie city right here. It will grow with the mines on which its growth depends ; and, though I am not much of a seer, I will venture to predict that the next ggi:mfion will find 50,000 inhabltants around very spot. . Thero are spots on the sun and on the finest amnm:, freckles on the fairest siin; and this ik - --HAS IT8 PAULTS, Iike all human things. Some think it was too high up, and the atmos- phere altogether.tdo thin. The effects are rather curious. On account of the rarefied air, the Thotels are execrablo in cleanliness, sccommoda~ tion, and general comfort. Their nngunchnlity is another result of a rarefled atmosphere. Their chol‘;?us, bowever, are firet-class, being all of 6,000 feet above the level of the sea in propor- tion to what is given for the money. faxmpa Denver is not much worse off for hotels than Cleveland, Indianapolis, Cairo, Bloomington, or Peoris ; but in none of these places would s really first-class hotel return aslarge profit on the capital. Bhaving in this thin air costs 25 cents. If there is a consumptive barber in Chicago who desires to make money and recuperate his health, let him come out and start a tonsorial emporium. Other trifling matters might be al- luded to, and blamed on the thin eir and the altitude; but what's the use? There aro boarding-houses for INVALIDS,’ where visitors in all stages of unhealth eat their meals and converse on consumption, coffins, grave-yards, and other exhilarating topics. They ore aiwsys discussing death. The convorsa- tion is enough to Teduce & healthy person to either insanily or Bright's disease. I cannot think that the sassociating of sick persons to- gether has a beneficial effect on the general health. So far as I can learn, people do die once in a whilein Colorado ; and thers are two cemeteries near the city, well “planted,” asthey gay out here. . Persona do die here, especially porsons who come ont in the last stages of the Complaint they hope to oure. I am informed that persons who come hero when the firat symp- foms of consumption appear grow strong and healthy. I came here by the advice of my family physicians; I keep five. I have been here two dny!i and perceive no perceptible improvement. weighed 200 when left home, and weigh no. moro to-dsy. A grest many come, . and, becsuse they do ot increase ten pounds s week, pronounce the climate a fraud,—sn unwarranted inference. Consumptives. with means to procure sl the comforts of life, with pleasant company and happy surroundings, can bresthe easior, if not longer, here; but, for those whose lives are already circumscribed, to come here is folly; they had better die at home, among their frionda, and. ha laid tn.rask booide thecs they ‘We went out TO THE MOUNTAINS on a “baby,” or. narrow-gauge railroad, up Clear Creek Canon. Ths mountains rose thou- sands of feet on either side of the track, w] followed the meanderings of & noisy mountain- stream. Everywhere we stopped, two of the E:rty Jumped oft to.pick up specimens, and they ve onongh nowtograde a railroad. We went to Floyd Station, thence to Idaho Springs by stege, and thence over the mountain to Central ons would Iove. City by the same conveyance. Stage-riding on Wabash avenmo is bearable; but, in the ' mountains, . it is otherwise. There i8 a certain excitement in traveling down & hill sloping at an_angle of 45 dogrees, -at a gallop, sometimes on the edge of a precipice. @ ex- citement consists in knowing - that, at any mo- ment, your neck may be broken, ‘and your earth- 1y troubles ended ; but, for my part, I longed rith an earnest desire for the dirty level of the rairie. 1t's_all over now, and I knowIwasa fool ; but there wera ten of us,—a mighty con- -golation. We_also made & Eflfi"fimge to Colo- i io Grande Rail- rado Bprings, by the Denver way, the scenery along the route being I&m d. From Colorado City we went to i~ tou, at the base of Pike's Peak, near the mouth of the Pass. On our route we passed through the “Garden of the Gods,” so called; and the .specimen-hunters picked up another stock .of stones... They insisted upon fecling every mountain, putting their hanas on it to as- sure themselves it was not an optical delusion. At Manitou gfringa we drank the waters until & Dative warned us that * our back-teeth wonld be afloat ™ if we did not hold up. PIEE'S PEAK +was duly admired, aud one of the party—an en- thusisst on mountains—insisted on sleeging ina room where he conld ses it if he woke in the night. It is s very fine mountain, indeed, and Mr. Pike deserves a great deal of credit for find- ing it. Its weak pointa are, that it opstructs the view beyond, and is too far from Chicago. It is wasting, however; the specimen-hunters are carrying it away bit by bit; and soon it will be Beattored far and wide over tho United Btates. T did ot Joad myself with pioces of Pike's Poak. 1 prefer the stones I can pick up on the lake- shore near Chicago. As Pike's Peak is intended for onr children as well as for us, this genera- tion should not carry it all away. The monn- tain and the mountain-ir had s strange influ- encs upon some of our party. They leaped for joy, threw up their hats, took skeiches of eveg Deak, and began postry they mever finishe One of them telegraphed to his wife as follows: One thousand miles above you' 8000 feet from home ; Pike's Peak inview. Kiss Aaggie and Jobnnie, Another, who must have_been an Irishman, telegraphed : If I had to live here a year, I'd dfe in three weeks, t mountaine, but monotonous. Wo traveled through several of those grand canons, and I was sorry to find that these moun- tains, which should have been dedicated to the nation forever, were pre-empted ; and presump- tuous man, in one place, had posted a notice that no carriages were to drive up the canon. I noticed also that all the land worth having is in the HAXDS OF MONOPOLIES, railroad companies, colony associations, or. other speculators, who stand at the receipt of custom, and collect toll from the poor emigrant an Bettler. Very often, by pure misrepresenta- tion, they are induced to come to Eansas or 'Colorado, to find, wWhen t00 late, that they have been taken in and done for. And still there is “‘ample room sud verge enwih " for an immense immigration. For men of nerve and endurance, with lots of work in them, there is & nice country, and a futare for their children, if not for them. If just as convenient as not, from $10,000 to £20,000 would be & good thing to bring alopg. It will be found & consolation betimes, and here, 28 everywhere else, nothing produces money like money. 8oL, Eloguent Profanity of n Steambont < Mate. The Danbury News man has been traveling. He describes a profane scene at s Misaissippi landing: . ¢ All was bustle at the dock when I got there. The boat was taking on.ite freight, and about thirty live negroes and one very excited and awfully profane white man were doing the business. .That-white man was & study. E‘o was the mate of the vessel, and what he didn’t Iknoir about rhetorio could be held on the point of a knife-blade by a nérvous man. ' The thirty negroes had sll they could well attend totokeopup vith his new oaths and roll on tho casks, Withont any cossation they bobbed from the boat to the shors, and from the shore back to the boat, and all the while that Misaissippi elocutionist danced around and swore. When I got on the boat I sat down-on my baggage and watched that man. * * Boing a residont of New England, T thought T knew something of wickednoss, but I was-mis- taken. . Tho negroes were uniformly dressed in pants, hire, and hat. 'Some of ‘the bata wera ornamented with difforent -colored - ribbons ; others again contained but s gimple- brass plate —the trademark of a retirod fruit can. _Beauty unadorned is adorned the most. - Théy Werp driven liko sheop, firat to the shore, thon back to the boat. The least hesitation, the slightest miestep, was noted by the orator and pmm‘s;ly incur{nnfiofl into his _discourse. He couldn’t havo been more familisr were they his own fathers, which it is not likely they were. “ After getting through at the dock, the boat | moved up to the coal yard. The coal was brought on in boxes with handles st each end. Each box contained two and & half bushels, and wab carried by two men. 8ix hundred bushels ‘wero thus taken on. - The same amount of bustle and vehemencé occurred in this transaction. The men sweat like April, and appeared to be ready to drop at every trip, but tho Mate hurled tonics at them, and - kept them. up. When his throat got tired he used his boot, and used it | Misei in that whole-soled way peculiar o the eippi boatmen. “ The nagroés receive $1a day and their vio- tuals. I should think they would gd to some city, and get into a store.” - JOHN STUART MILL. A Discussion of Cabs and Cab-Farese ‘Mr. Mill as o Pedestrinn--His- Loy alty to His Friends. London Correspondence of the Nation, -Ihave a livaly recollection of & fow appari- tions of Mr. Mill somse ten or twelve yoars ago, - when he was first beginning to emerge from his retirement. Nothing could have been imsgined more contrsry to my preconceived notions than the elight, fragile man, trembling with ill-sup- preased nervousness and, at times, blushing like- a girl for some inappreciable cause. I had ex- pected—foolishly enough—to see an ideal phil- osopher, not perhaps in the flowing robes, but at lenst with the dignified mein of one of Rapha- el's apostles, and my surprise was not less than would be'the surprise of most people if the’ por- trait of the ideal 8t. Paul were suddenly replaced by & faithfal likeness of the man as he sppeared to his contemporaries.. If Ar. Mill's prosence wan not dignified in the conventional senso, it revealed at once thai emotional side of his nature which bas been made prominent in his later works. The author of “ The Subjection of Women” seemed to take the place of the expounder of Malthusian princi- ples. But in s fow minutes there was no difficulty in constructing a more complote image of the whole man. It was af a meeting of the Political Economy Club that I first had _the honor of being in Mr. Mill's company, and the subject, not at first sight & very attractive one, was the propriety of allowing cab-farea to be regulated by free competition instend of fixed by a tariff. Unpromising subjects often branch ont into unexpected variety of euggestion. On this occasion, however, I do not remember, and perhapa it would be a breach of confidence to roveal, the opinions expressed by the other philosophers present.. The arguments used hare alipped through my mind, though I have a vague recollection of having chewed many dry husks of statistical information. But I do remember very distinctly the impression produced mpon me by Mr. Mill. His nervous and sgitat- ed manner disappesred with the first sentence; the siatistical and economicsl magnates around mo listenod with rapt atten- tion, whilst o flow of sentences fell from Mr. Mill's lips, as perfectly formed as though he was reading the proof-sheet of s carefully-prepared essay, and arranged with the most: Iucidity. How much attention Mr. Mill bad given to the subjoct of caba it is of course impoesible for me to say; but I could never Have imagined that to 80 barren a text thers could have been appended such » mass of interesting refleotions. Some- how or other, he kept to his subject, and yet forced one to think of cabs, not as a mere iso- Iated phenomenon, but a8 part of the general eystem of things. ~Always dwelling upon’ topics within the comprehension of police officials and town councils, he yet brought into the discussion such & wealth of thought and knowledge that cabo Liavo boon orer minco raised in my opinion. Coleridge would doubtless have been more poetical and more metaphysical, if started on one of his flights Iinto. the. infinite from a cab-stand; and Mr. Carlyle would probably show a more vivid insight “into the hases of human character conne with cabs, Eot saan expos:tion of &rmct.icd philosophy in its bearings upon cabs, Mr. Mill's discussion ap- _peared to me to b a8 near to _perfection as pos- sible. In fact, Mr. Mill could talk like & book, and, what is far rarer, like a very excellent book. His conversation was lrmiuently like achapter outof the *Liberty.” Itwas his habit, I be- liove, to have everything closely arranged in his hosd before putting anything on paper. The actusl writing therefore was extremely rapid. I am almost afraid to sy, merely from recollec- tion, what waa the period employed in the ac- tual composition of tho * Logie.' My memory tells mo that he had vritten the wholo in three months. That would imply over ten octavo pagess day; and considering the extreme com- ploxity of the subject, and the difficulty of steer- ing the way safely tbrongh all manner of logical intricacies, such & - speed of ex- ecution wonld be something . astonih- Of course it implies that the whole sub- stance was already carefully prepared. Like Bome other distinguished writers, he was fond of taking long walks, during which his reflections were gradually molded into a form fit for ex- preseion. Within the last year or two, he was Btill equal to doing thirty or forty miles in a day without excessive Xuigue, though from his ap- pearance no one wobld bave imagined that he possessed grut pedestrian powers. Mr. Mill's speeches were very much injored in their effect by the wealmess of his voice, but as compositions thev were as perfect as anything that he wrote. When he first appeared in Par- lisment, he was spparently very nervoms, and ‘had a carions habit of occasional Lntoppin'g and shutting his eyes for many seconds betiween two consecntive sentences.. To his hearers it ap- ared at first that = break down was imminent, but he always caught the thread of his argumenf, and proceed- ed anew with a uniform flow of Sluqninb tion. His least satisfactory performances were at moments when strong feeling was carrying him away. The disproportion between the passion and the phygical power of utterauce was too marked ; for a genuine orator requires an organ of corresponding powers and volume to ive effect to the expression of strong emotion. d yet the genuine strength of Mr. Mill's feel- ings, and the generous breadth of his eympathics, ‘undoubtedly gave himpower over popular audien- cor, a8 it will endear bim to the memory of many {friends who do not implicitly adopt his theories. No warmer-hearted man ever lived. _His loyalty to his friends_was touching i a high degree, though it donbtless betrayed him into occaaior weaknesges. Everybody remembers the dedica- tion to the memory of his wife of the book on ¢ Liberty,” in which, to eay the truth, it is im- esible not to suspect that his judgment ad been considerably biassed ~by his feclings. Something of the same tendency lpfiam in several of his later works. Mr. 3fil believed in his friends with something like vehemence. He believed . not merely in their ‘moral worth but in their intellectual power. The foeling was amisble and generous in a high de- ee; for most of us sre perhaps conscious that Srord is something not. altogether displeasiog to us in the weakness as well as in the misfortune of our friends.- Bome little grain of jealousy porhaps mingles with most human {friendships, or possibly we fear o trust our judgments when they spply to those in whom we are deeply in- terested. From any snch defect of cordiality Mr. Mill was most honorably free; - but I fancy that some allowance must bo made for this un- conscious biss before we can accept the very warm eulogies which he has passed upon the- orists whose merits a&re..mot 80 con- spictous _to the ontsids world. In losing Mr. Mill, we have not only lost the most thoronghly trained intellect amongst English philosophars and politicians, thongh one w] wors of assimilation perhaps rather exceeded is powers of origination, but we have also lost one whose genarous warmth of fealing gave & higher tone to contemporary sul:iuu, and leaves many tender memonies behind him. ‘There is no one ready to take his ough we may con= sole ourselves with the lection that he had retty well delivered his message to the. world. f:isniduutha hes left many remains, and among other writings sn sutobiography contin- aed to a recent date. A faw years ago.he said that he had finished some writings for which ho thought the time of publication had not arrived ; but I know not whet to *The Bubjection of Women,” which Las since sppesred, or to some works which have not yet geen the light. . THE DOCTRINE OF MALTHUS. ‘Hoow's Porvr, Hamilton Co., Ia., June 6, 1673, To the Editor of The Chicogo Tribune:: . ‘Srm : In Tax LRBUSE of the 2d inst. you faver us with an_interesting and suggestive editorial essayon “Over-Population,” which is, practically, of equal ‘valdo with ‘the many speculations we 8éo concerning the termination, atéome indefinite time, of all terrestrial life. . i The law of modification, which i8 so unerring- 1y traced in the physical conditions of sublunary existence, points as intelligibly to the future as the past.” The mysterions prophecies of ‘future dissolution, that issue from the caverns of the -deep, the fissures of the earth, the pestilences of the air, and the celeatial phenomena of the skies, are in wonderful sympathy with our instinctive forebodings of future annihilation. Nor are they the less smolemn and impressive’ because they-are in harmony: with the warnings that “¢claim s Divine inspiration through-the Bible. In ;short, every. faculty.of humanity is ab- sorbed in the dreadful .conviction that death 18 ‘sooner or lster iuevitable. But shall’ wo coase o build cilicé and habitations upon the piains, becausé the geologist tells us they shall be overwhelmed- by s future onvul- sion of the earth, or a submersion of this ocean ? Bhall we refrain from - breathing, because:the . astronomer predicts a period to come when the life-sustaining elements'of the air ehall undergo » fatal change through' celestial modifications ? And, finally, ‘shall we rebel againat another- in- stinct, because Malthus tells usof a-future limit to population? Practically, then, the Malthusian doctrine is no more eignificant tian that fireside theory of the kind old maid, who, _aa sho indulged'in it, wept over the imaginary death of sn imsginary offspring. * “There are not wanting men who, inall ages, have striven to make a Bensation of some kind; and it is, unfortunately, too often the cage that they have been the most successful when they have appealed, through the imagination, to the fears of mankind. Facts and figures are 50 in- zeniously interwoven with their theories that, e the doctrine of ‘‘ Protection to American industry,” they make a most imposing and de~ ceptive fabric, which the- celebrated point of ““1thnriel's spear " isnot always able torend. And 80 this sensational-theory of Malthus comes dowri to us,—miore interesting from its novelty and nature: than its utility snd truth. Letus sag mtat, i sy, sense thore f i 3 ‘proposition is, that * Over-population is an evil;” and his whole erzument om0 force moral restraint™ as ita only admissible remedy. That the proposition is true, has nover yet been demonstrated by- its author or ita friends. Noris it to be accepted as.a funda- mental law of economic science, because of its dogmatic assertion on' the one hand, or that, on the other, it has been fecbly opposed. Thae sta- tistics to establish the one or to confirm the other, are equally wanting. None of the figures and illustrations upon which the propo- tion resta are conclusive and satisfactory to a reasoning mind. But, on the contrary, if the common instincts and conclusions of the world have any force, beside. tho ropeated and em- hatic encoursgement of Divine nuthority to ‘m‘mtltsfi and mnlfip]y,"Elhlt {lg'ma is directly sgainst the proposition. Every legislative actin 5o istory: of the world has boen friondly tion a8 ‘a_de- o nt. Not onme has been aimed, directly or indirectly, against it as an evil. Can fne instipcts and experiences of all the world be delusive, and only Malthus a prophet ? But, if an overgrowth of population be an evil, it followa that a scarcity, or none at all, must be ablessing,—a conclusion, like the proposition, equslly embarrassing to disprove, but, in the mind of common sense, equally absurd and irra- tional.” We eball Do told, however, that s mean exists, which, i it can be secured, will insure s millennium, to be disturbed by those con- tamaclous members of ‘society who will not re- spect the artificial law of *moral restraint.” ‘When that bappy equilibrium ghall have been reached, through other than natural influences, wo shall, without doubt, see * Tho lion and the ltamb lie down together, and a little child lead em.” _ Now, as for the argument, what reception can ii obtain but one of indignation and contempt? Talk about ¢ moral restraint™ 'as a power to check population! This is no place for face- tiousness, mor will the gravity of the subject permit light jokes, or Mr. Malthus, who was, perhaps, like 8t. Paul in one respect, could be pleasantly dismissed. Aside from its pueril- ity, ~ argument merits attention on - scconnt of - -its. serious tenden- ¢y and consequences. Its tendency -is to destroy the happiness, if not the sanctity and usefulness, of marrisge; and 1its direct conse- quences are polygamy, concubinage, and promis- caous commerce of the sexes,—resuliing, of course, in a check to popmiation. The ides of 4 moral restraint " interfering to prevent such an aboormous condition of society, of which it is itself the cause, may be's monkish, but it is certainly not a worldly, one. We might pursue this * moral restraint” remedy to I:onseg;fma =till more criminal and debasing, including, 28 the lesst of them, those practices already too prevalont, we are {old from the pulpit, amongst & women of the dngs:lha, perhaps, have a3 of “ moral restraint ” cted to receive achings of the vivid and correct an it a8 any human beings can be ex; {zmni the religious and moral our. ‘Wo are told in Holy Writ that * Of little chil- dren such is the K_ingdom of Heaven.” Surely the * moral restraint” that would diminish that angelic population cannot receive the Divine oanotion ¢ Moral restraint” is mot altogother a now ides. Btimulated by the. strongerspir- itoal desire . to save the soul, rather than the body, it was practised by those monkish communities which existed in large numbers at an early period of Christian history. The revolting crimes that ensued form a record familiar to the classical student, and need only be referred to hers sa an illustration of our theme. Those who, like Mill, write so glibly in favor of restraining over-population by moral power, do, %ombly, combine the two essential elements of character described by the poet : ** Though I think as a sage, I feelas s man.” Perhaps 8o, but 'tis doubtfal. 1t ia not improbable that, in some one of the extraordinary phases of life, such s man may attempt to force his canvictions of *‘ moral re- straint " upon s community under his sway; but, &5 8 lost resort against defeat, art must nec- essarily be called to his aid.- But it is equally probable that the present progressive movement in favor of woman will have triumphed about the same period ; and man has every reason to ho%a, {from the memorable precedent ished us by Gibbon, in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” that her voice will sgain ef fectually prevent 8o extrems s measure. CrARLES WHITAKER. JUNE. “Giveme a month,” said the Summer, Demanding of Nature s # That shall make surly Winter forgotten, And be with all sweet things in tune. “ The skies must be blus—the sun go Love must light the white Iamp of the moon.™ The great Mother smiled and ehe kissed ber, ."" And the emile and the kiss wers—Juns. —Aldine for June, ) “ How to Prevent Sunstroke. .As we are soon to experience & heated term, the following specific - against sunstroke may save from illness and death many whose occupa- tion obliges them to be in the fleld or out upon e boua ‘ ut & year since I saw in' & nowspaper an account of a'case of sunstroke, written by the party himself. After suffering a long time from tha attack, and having to s considerable degree recovered, he experienced suffering even the raya of the moon. Thisled him to there- flection that it waa not altogether the heat of the sun that produced prostration. After much resel he discovered that the injury came from the chemical ray, and not from the heat ray. He was guided to this by observing the fact that a photograph could not be taken through & hollow glass. Acoordingly, Lo Iined his bat with two lnin 8 of orange yellow to arrest the chemical ray, and one of green to arrest the heat ray. Thus prepared, he Went where the rays of the sup wero most in- tense with perfect impunity. It is well known that the negro is seldom or never sunstruck. The color of his skin over the akull being of the orange-yellow may sasist in sccounting for the fait.” Ipr upon this suggestion all last summer, lined my hat -with green nndm_-nnfbo- yellow paper, and had confidence enough in’ the truth-of the theoryto neglect my-nmbrolls, which T had- never donebefare.- 1 mentioned it to inany, who tried it also, and in many cases that came mmder my observation they uniformly ssserted _tbat ..the. v heat of the sun upon the head was much relieved.” er the observation referred | WHAT'S IN A NAME ? Derivations of Surnames. Mrs, A, E, Barr, in the Golden Age. “What's in & name?” Much every way. Who. would like to call his daughter Herodias, or his son Judas? * For a name is what ita associztions make it, and therefore we sesk for our children such as represent poems and histories, or Are Ballowed by the veneration of nges, or linked with the light of genius, or charmed with the spell of beauty. Our Christian names are mostly Jewish or hesthen names; but this is not to be quarreled with, sineé it pits in the regular succession of kings and priests, herces and szges, and gives to the children of to-day the pedigree and pres- tige of centuries. : The point mostly to be deprecated is the giv- ing of more than one personal name to-a child. Imagine Christopher Columbus,” George . Wash- ington, Charles Dickens, or Horace Greeloy with a0 intermediate name. Of all the fifty-six pa- triots who signed the : Declaration of Independ- énce, only throe had middle names and this pro- portion, I believe; would be a very fair onein .arms, art, ‘sciance, theology, and literature. Ap< parently Fame counts her syllables &nd is nig- gardly of space. " The imposition of the personal name has al- ways been attended with religious ceremonies. The Jews used circumcision, the Greeks and Bomans ofieringd and eacrifices. The Ma~ |- hometan, after msany prayars; - solemnly chooses the name by lottery on thé. Koran; the Christian sanctifies the rite by baptism. Its importance thereafter asserts itsolf in all the most tender and solemn acts of life—in religious consecration—in love's most perfect contract, and in that supreme bour whon we must resign every mortal thing but the name we ehall carry into the grave, and persdventure beyond it:-* . Surnames, though neither 8o importantnoruni- versal as the personal name, have undoubtedly a very high antiquity. The first form was most likely the patron; a8 Joshua the son of Nun, David the son of Jesse. Its fitness has also given it permanence, for we use the same form at the pressnt day—that, la with the patronymic affixed—as Williamson, Jackson, Robartson, &c. William the Conqueror is gererally supposed to have introduced surnames into England, but Doomeday Book affords sufficient evidence that they were far from,uncommon among the Bax- ons. In that record “Cane ” and *Elfech ™ are. the names attached to the manors of Ripe and Newtimber in Sussex ; and st the present day Elfech is s common surname in that country, while a family called ** Cane” still live on the lands of Ripe, as they have done for ferhaps s thousand years. TLocality, after patronymic denomination, prob- ably suggested surnames, These aro sometimes of country, as * France,” “Scott;" of towns, 8 4 York," *“ Durham;” orof natural features, as Hill, Forest, Dale, Wood, &c. o The particle de or d’ was dropped from sur- names in the reign of Henry VL, and the title of 4 eaquire " was given to the head of the family, and “genflemcu " to younger sons; thua John de Alchorne became John Alchorueof Alchorue, .; snd his younger son William Al- chorue of Alchorue, “gent.” This practice of taking the name from the estata was common in England until the tenth century, and is even yot & source of pride in Bcotland.” Americans have exactly reversed this order, they build cities and :fli&::l;! after their own names. stk ocality, oocupations augmented surnames. *‘ Baker,” ¢ Butler,” ¢ Mi!lar,y"z‘g?al- ter,” etc., aro of this class, but pre-eminent among ther is * Smith.” This is easily sccount~ ed for—8mith comes from the Baxon * smitan " o Bmite; and the name was applied to black- smiths, wheelrights, carpenters, and * smiters” of all kinds ; even soldiers were not unfrequent~ 1y called * war-smitha.” is assumption of a trade a5 & family nsme bad then a decided propriety, for certain occupa- tions were often hereditary for centuries. Thus the Oxleys, of Sussex, were iron-founders for 250 years, and the Webbs (wesvers) of tha Bame connty, exercise to this day the industry which gave them their name in the thirteenth century. A still more remarkabla instance was afforded by the Hampshire family, of Purkess: ‘When William Rufus was il one of thia family, who was a_charcoal-burner,- loaned his cart o carry the dead body of the King to Win- chester. In return he received an acre or {wo of land in the New Forest, and therehis descend- ants lived and burnt charcoal until the last of them died about twenty years ago. “ Bishop,” ““Abbott,” ** Parsons,” * Monk,” « Priest,” &c., euggest an eccleaiastical origin ; ‘but, as most of them existed before the Refar- mation, some difficultiessuggest themselves be- tween legitimacy and clerical canons and vows. Other names from offices will, however; bear & closer scrutiny, as * Spencer,” from Le Despen- cer, & steward ; ‘‘ Grosvenar,” from T.a Gros Venur, the huntsman ; or * Sumner,” Trum the Sazon sompuoure, one who cited delin- quents to ecclesiastical courts. “With the decline of feudalism, and the recog- nition of & man’s right to his own personality, names of natural qualities arose. Complexion and -color suggested some, as ‘‘Blacl L *Redman,” ‘' Fairchild,"” ** hmwn," ‘! White,” “Gray,” etc. Size gave others, as * Longfel- low,”" *'Small,” **Strong,” ‘‘High,” Lowe," «Little,” etc. ' Mental qualitics supplied s still larger number: * Hardy,” ‘“Wild,” * Noble,” #Moody,” * Trueman,” *Wiseman,” **Merry- man,” * Goodenough,” * Toogood," * Dolittle,” are examples of this class. . The word * Cock,” 8o profusely nsed in Eng- lish surnames, is one of the three favori! on diminutives—* cock,” ‘‘kew,” and ‘‘ of thus “Wilcox,” “ Willkew,” and ‘‘ Willmot ” all sig- nili “ Little Will.” the north of England a little fussy person is still called a ¢ rall or cock-0-my-thumb ;" and & gshtlt: land-owner in Scotland is & cocklaird.” ‘explanation vindicates the wisdom of the famous nursery rhyme: Ride cock-horse ‘To Banbury Crosa. The names of animals have always been favor- ite cognomens of men. We bave living examples of this fact in the Indian tribes within our own borders. The * Wolf ” seems to have been the preferred of this class, and under its German form of Guelph it is the surname of the royal family of England. But birds, fish, insects, vegetables, and flowers have numerous human representatives, tablo for their derivation, if not for their number, is tbat sympathefic class of wrhich * Brotherson,” * Couslns,” Batchelor,” # Neighbors,” * Childs,” &c., may bo taken as examples; and equally suggestive are the names for which Time has stood sponsor, such as ** Bpring,” * Winter,” “ Day,” “Double- gy,.. "u Webks,” Easter,” * Paschal,” ** Holi- ," etc. A small but interesting order of English names are derived from _hiatorical events; thus, the Fortescues (from Le Forte the Strong) won their name in the battle of Hastings, whera the founder of the family, by his enormous strength, eaved the life of William. The Plantagencts, from the Genests or Broome, which the first of of them wore in his bonnet as a token of humility for his enormous crimes. The Lockharts asssumed their name and arms—s padlock inclosing » beart— because one of their family was entrusted with the sacred charge of crovoying the heart of TRobert Bruce to the Holy Land, etc. These ara the most natural and fitting of names, and our civilization hsa only &m’nkaned the facility with which we re-christen the people brought promi~ nently before us. : Five very common names bave undoubtedly come from oaths. * Bigod or Bigot” from ““ By God! " the constant efaculation of the Normans of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, * Pardos,” from Par-Dieu, ‘ Purcell,” from Par-iel, and “ God-sall,” and *“Godbody,” from Edward the Tbin}"l favorite oath, * By the soul and body of God.’ There is s class of names—unfortunately rather a largo one—which perpetuate fsults Tailings, or peculiarities, such as ‘' Hussey," i fi) » “¢gilliman,” * Lawless,” etc. But oven auah have n very respectable antiquity, for Chambers assures us that many of the most fa~ mous Greek snd Boman names would not bear translation. The compensation is, that the in- heritors of names, given 1n contempt or scorn, may lift them as Brutus did his,—making the by- word of his enemies the watchword of humanity for more than twenty centuries. For any name, ‘bowever mean in origin, will be honorable in the sight of humanity if only thors be written after it ** Benefactor.” - Dentistry in Japan. An American dentist living in Yokohamsa sends to the Denlal Cosmos an account of the Japanese habits in regerd to their teeth. He says that as tho young women havo very fine teeth it is re- mackable that they should keep up the practice of blacking them after marrisge. The Japanese, a8 n race, possess good teeth, but they lose them very early in life. . “ Their tooth-brushes coneist of tongh wood, pounded at one end to loosen_ the fibres. They resemble paint-brushes, and owing. to their shape it is impossible to get one behind.the teeth. As might be‘expected, there is an ac- cumnlation of tartar which frequently draws the teeth of old people. Their process of manufacturing false teeth is very crude. The plates 678 made of wood, and the tésth consist of tacks driven up from under the side. A pi of wax is heated and pressed into the roof of the month, It is then taken out snd bardened by utting it into cold water. Amother piece of eated wax is applied to the impression, and, after being pressed into shaps, is _hudened; A piece of wood is then roughly cut into the desir- ed form, and the model, having been smeared with “red paint, is applied to -it. Where they touch each other & mark is lett bythe paint. This iscut away till they touch evenly ail over. Shark’s teeth, bits of ivory, or stone, for. teoth, sre set into the wood -and re- tained in position -by being nh’d.ng on. & thread which is secured on each end by & pég driven into the hole where thie thread makes its exit from the base.- Iron or co] tacks are driven into the ridge to serve for mistioatin; purposes, the unequal wear of the wood ar metal keaping up the- desired roughness. Their full sets- answer admirably for the mastication ‘of food, but, a8 they donot improve the looks, they ard worn but little for ornament. The or- dinary service of s set of teeth-is about five years, but they frequently last much longer. All full upper sets are refained by stmospheric pressurs. This principle is coeval with £he art. In Japan dentistry exists only as a mechanical trade, and the btatus of those who practice it is not very high. It is, in fact, graded -with car- penters—their word hadyikfsan mearing tooth- carpenter.” WRECKED, Whon the ship's gorte down; 1 trow, Wo littlo care whatavef wind may blow: You think Iamtoossd; . You say I should be glad, And writs in lighter strata, Dear heart! I grant jtso; , saving One, none know How fieros the fight with patn, Bat, tho ‘words ate R Otier than dreary trath : alone,—alons,— In desolated youth, * June roses will ot blow - In January mow ; Much less conld thers be bloom On days that Havenot For yaars, s sunbeam gl To streak with joy this gloomis The lapping months have brought No one thing which. £ thought To fondly call my own ; And now I care That to each sobbing pray’s For bread, has come a stoné Ob, eyes! 80 trus, so dear,— Oh, friend! so far,—yet near To one heart grief-opprees'd; pck dod! are comue 45 Tast sy whex, anj past, Sad brows are crowned with rest. Mrmrix . An Evening With Nrs: Somérville. I wes fortunate to have an introduction to Mrs. Bomerville and her family when I visited Naples in the winter of 1870. They were living in the top story of s, great palazzo on the riviers di Chiaja ; & suite of spacious rooms, facing the bay, snd approached by a great stair- caso, that seemed, as is always the case in Ttaly, to get cleaner and more sumptuous the ‘higher you ascend: Yot passed through two or three ante-rooms, gathering as you went a &mls Ttalian impression of marble and space, &N then found yourself at the door of the eat drawing-room. It only in e evening t Mrs. Somerville received, and it is sn evening impression that the room has left; dim distances, & few lights at the farther end, barely distingnishing the plates of Raffaelle Afajolica on the walls, and the antique bronzes on the marble tables; and in the far corner two ladies working, and s third 1ady, old and small, sitting, watchfal and dignified, in her low arm-chair. : This was Mrs. Bomerville; it was her %0th a;xrfl;:dfiy flm Ieaw her xflmfi. :::@ pn.:g'own 0 English newspaper aa I sppro 2 ter her kind gr::tgng, Settiod down for 'n gossip. Her 90 years seemed to have withered her 18 5 but it was wiry and firm still, her eyes wers keen, her voice clear, only her hearing was im- g:irf. Btill it was quite possible to talk with rif you raised your voice; and it waa easy to make her talk more than listen. Of course, the war was our first subject ; she had forseen it, fifty yoars bofore, st the Restoration. Bhe was military and commiserating, critic and Woman, by turms ; now shaking her hesd over tho dead and dying, now speculating about the fall of Paris.” You had but to close your eyes, and’ to fancy a clever modern Englishwoman talking ; the words and tho:th! were a8 fresh and cur- rent aa those of a clever young wife of a clever member in » Parlisment of to-day. It e same in the other subjects which we dis- ter, tho Iatest youzg wasl cussed; Ttaly and the Italian c! changes at Oxford, and what not. But, of course, ahe was most interesting when she came to_talk of herself. - ‘I do not apolo- gize for talking of myself,™ &ne sald; * for it is always good for the young to hear that old age is ot 86 terrible as they fear. My life is & vory placid one. Lhave my coffee early; from 8 £0 121 read or write iv bed ; .then I rise and paint in my studio for an hour—that is all I can man- age now! The afternoon is my time forrest; then comes dinner-time,and after that I sit here, and I am glsd to seo any kind friends who may like to visit me.” Then she would explain what was the resding and writing she was engaged upon. Bhe was correcting and add- ing to the first ~edition of ‘‘Molecular and - Microscopic Bcience;”. * I'x ‘putting it in order for my dnndgh'.em to publish when a second edition is called for after my death. Ob, they are quite_competent to do it,” she would sy, with a smile; I took care that they shonld be much better educated thin I was. I amread- inga dg:od deal now,—reading Heredotus. Itook wn from my shelves the other dsy—it was the first time I tried Greek for fifty E“"’—w soe if T had forgotten the character. "0 my delight, I found I could road him and un- derstand him quite easily. ~What a charming writer Herodotus is!” Al this was without the ightest try; the utterance of a perfoctly nal , simple mind, that dwelt upon subjects which interested it when it saw that they inter- ested its neighbor. 3 The impression which Mrs. Somerville left upon me from this evening, and .several like it spent in her company, was that of s thoronghly harmonious character, widely. sympathetic and intensely individual. Bhe had developed these two sides of her nature in the most complete way, and the resnlt was & perfectly calm old age. The extraordinary power of abstraction which enabled her to work out a mathematical prob- Jem amid the buzz of conversation was i ©f her whole mind. She was great, because she was 80 pudenfl{n:alf-conmnad. Yot her sym- athios, 85 has been said, wera wide and warm. Sm:h ‘balance of character is a rare spectacle at any fime; is, perhaps, rarest in extreme old 0, and is precions in proportion to its rarity.— eople’s Magarine. Dickens Not an Educated Mans “Thereare no facts in Mr. Forster’s narrative o prove that Mr. Dickens ever was an educated man, and all the testimony of his_works is against the supposition. No trait of his geniug is more malient than its entire self-dependence; 0o defects of it are more marked than his intol- erance of mbiectu which he did not understand, and his high-banded dogmatic treatment of mat- ters which he regarded with the facile contempt of ignorance. This unfortunate tendency was fostered by the atmosphere of flattery in Which he lived ; » life which, in the truly educational sense, was eingularly narrow ; and, though he was not entiroly to blamo for the extent, it af- focted his later works very much to their disad- Vantage. Asa novelist, he is distinguished ; sa » husorist, he is nnrivaled in this ngo; but when he deals with the larger epheres of morals, wil politios, and with the mechaniem of State and official life, he is absurd. He announces truisms and tritenesses with an air of discovery inpossi- ble to s well-resd man, and he propounds with an air of conviction, hardly provoking, it is so simply foolish, flourishing _solutions of problems” which “have long lexed the gravest and ablest minds in higher ranges of thought. We hear of his ex- tensive and varied resding. Whero is the evidence that he ever r anything bevond fiction, and some of the essayista? Certainly ot in his books, which might be the only books in the world, for sny indication of study or book knowledge in them. Not alittle of their charm, not & little of their miscellaneous popularity, is referable to that very thing. Every one can understand them; they are not for educated people only; they do not suggest comparisons, or require explana- tions, or imply aseocistions; they stand alone, self-existent, delightful facts. A slight refar- ence to Fielding and, Bmollett, a fins rendering of one chapter fn English history—the Gordon riote—very finely done, and s clever adsp- ;iinn of fi Cl_rlyla'}! % “ Barecde‘ Loid to s_own stage, in Cities,” are poaitively the only traces of books to be found in the. long series of his works, His **Pictures from Italy” is specially curious, 28 an iliustration of the possibility of a man’s living sa long in a. eor‘mt'ry with .:hz‘:dh;:i;); ‘history, without discovering m ms‘:fbly N ferstand the country better if he E:ew gomething about the history. He slways caught the sentimental and humorons elements in everything; the traditional, spiritual, philo- sophic, or wsthetic, not &t all. s prejudices wero the prejudices, not of one-sided opinion and mflofima but of ignorance *‘all round. His mind held no clew to' the charscter of the peoples of foreign countries, and their tastes, arts, aud creed were ludicrous mysteries to him. His vividness of mind, freshness, and fun, constitute the chief charm of his stories, and their entiro originslity is the noto which pleases m!D:h! ; bt when he wflg ‘;rg!ctn;e! 'iig!c 3 h‘:g of the great past of , art, and politics wil 2 tmoch aatiefied Biopancy as when ho describes the common objects of the London streeta (for which he yeamed in the midst of all the medimval glories of Italy), be makes it evident thathe had never been educsted. and had not oeducated himself.—Temple Bar (London). —_— A GREAT RUSSIAN PAINTER. From, Appletons’ Journal. All the nationai pride of the Bussians, espoc— ially those of the educated classes, eays the Baltic Gazetle, seems at_present to coricenirate itself upon the great artist who has, 1y, and, it might be said, very suddenly, Tirself to his highly gratified conntrymen; for if thora is & country where people are proud of their great ‘men, Ruasia es to ba men- tioned above all others. We allude to Vogisn: Tatkeloff, whose great paintings, at the ArZ Exposition in Moscow, attract ge crowds of delighted and, it might be. eeid, almost astonished spectators. The two paini- are of very lorge size, and rep- resent battle-acencs in the Crimean war, The impression which they produce on the Dbeholder is aimost overwhelming. Such terrible reality, Buch wonderful grouping, such superb coloring—truly, Horace Varnet never painted anything bet{er in his palmicat days, if his productions aro st all worthy to be mentioned side by side with those of tue Russian, whoss two paintings have suddenly made hum fsmons, and raised him from poverty acd obscurity fo wealth ; for the paintings were msunug pur- chased for the Imperial ery of the St. Pe- tersburg winter palace, for the sum of 60,000 rubles, and every Russisa who hag that sum considers himself a very Creesus. « But who Is Vogisny Tatkeleff 2" asked every~ ‘body on the opening day of the Moscow expo’ gition. No one had ever heard of hin, and yeb he was & grest master. All that the mansgers knew about him was, that he lived ata emall village near Borissav, and that he had_sent the two paintings in old-fashionod, decidedly clumsy cases, witl frames of \u.lli primitive manu- facture, to Moscow. M. Kattkof, the editor of the Mokcow Gazette, found a remedy in the em- ergency. He sent two of his most accom, lished ashistants in search of M. Vogisny Tatkeleff ; and not only did they ascertsin all about the past history of the great painter,—to whom, in their report, they gava the proud name of the Russian Raphael,—but they ‘brought him per- sonally with them to_Moscow. When, on_the 6th of March, Count Baranowics, the President of the Art Exhibition, presented M. Tatkeleft 2t an impromptu_medting, sttended by many ‘members of the elite of Iinssian society, the ap- edrance of the man excited as muoh surprise a3 is works had done. : . Imagine & little, slender man of 60, with the head of n child, almost beardless, only a fow tufts of silvar-gray hair on his scalp, with small, elegant hands and leet, lainly clsd in ‘thuiu‘ tiomal costums of the middle classes, with ‘be timid manners of & litile girl, mynn have be- fore your eyes the man who henc orth will rank With the greatest painter of modern times, d His history is equally singular. His father, Ivsn Tatkeleff, was the serf of 4 humane &a enlighted nobleman in the Borissoy Government. Vogisny Tatkeleff, when a little boy, ome day dro 8 crudo charconl-sketch on 8 board-fence. The proprietor of his father and himself acci~ dently paased by, and was struck by the close resemblance which some of the faces traced by the boy bore to well-known residents of the village. In consequence, he inquired pf little YVogitny Tatkeleft whero he had obtained so much proficiency as a limner. The boy was unable to tell him. He could naither road mor' write. . The nobleman promised to have him oducated. He received lessons from _several good teschers, and displayed, from tho first, as- tonishing talents in drawing portraits. his 14th year he painted a portrait of his benefactor, in m’l. and it was promounced an production. The nobleman intended to eman- cipate him ; but he lost his whole fortune when Vogisny was -19 years old, and, in comse- quence, the latter met with » number of misfor- i and sufferings, such as were possible ouly in Russia prior to_ the liberation of the serfs. The new owner of the estate waa 8 sordid, gras ing man, destitute of msthotic feelings ; sud, to the horror of youog Vogisny, he forced the Intter into the fegular army, where, incredible to 8ay, he had to serve fifteen long yesrs as vate soldier. His superiors, as & general g, yore brutal and ignorant msn ; and hence the Jatent talents of poor Tatkelefl remained un- Jrown and undayeloped, and the only mannor in which be could show them was during the two Inst years of his sorvice in the nrmyhzhen o was stationod at Tiflis, and when he obtained exemption from active d“:fl,b’ ‘Deing gonerousty rmitted to fresco the walls of the dining-room | B2 tio hiouso of & alativo of tho Colonel of th infantry regiment to whi o belonged. ! Dwggfibula of this time the unfortunaie 1man was 80 poor that he was but rarely ablo to urchase drawing-paper and pencils, with whick, in his few spare hours, he gave vent to enins. To buy canvas and colors he could not of. At length, in 1849, he was discharged.’ snd returned to his native village, only to find his parents and the rest of hia relatives dead. What was ho todo? He was too fecbls todo the hard work of & Russian peasant; and 50 he went to the widow of the owner of the eatate, and asked her for the humble position of village teacher. To ml’xflbitm surprise, he fou..d in her & cultivated and itboral lady. She was Dot lon, in diecovoring his talents, and fumisho Tatkeleff with ample means to complote his artistic studies. -But one thing she refused to 1ot him do. He was not allowod to leave Russia; and, moreover, in return for her assistance, he was'to let her ‘have- the first choice in case ha shonld paint anything on a large scale. Tatke- Jeff had no ides that his productions were very valuable. Ho led an easy, quiet life at the cha- teau of the lady, and e ed the walls of the mansion with some very fine paintings, mostly of scenos from the War in the Caucasus, in which he had taken an sctive part. In e he sccompanied the som of ~ his tgm— tectress to the Crimean War, and there bad the misfortune of being struck artial blindness. This _compelied him to Jet his art rest for years; and, after he bad regained his eyesight, in ‘sccordance with the advice of his physicians, he had to abstain | #rom looking fixedly at an object for any i 1555 hin s o length oftime. In 1855 his benefaciress di a soldier, was sent to a distant garrison; and he refused.to do anything for Tatkeleff. Iatter was thrown upon his own resources for s living, and he eked out a few hundred rubles & your by gotting up drawing-books for a publish- ing firm at Kiev. One day, two years ago, & tourist happened to meet Tatkeleff at Borissav, and, after a conversation with him, asked him to ahow him some of his productions, The artist ‘had his sketch-book with him, and showed it to the stranger. The Iatter expressed his surprise at the beauty of the designs, and asked Tatke- leff why he did not send £nything to the exposi- tions in St. Petersburg and” Moscow. Tatkeleff promised to do so, but—a gingular fact—for onths he was £00 poor to buy the necessary Materials, At length, the two paintings were completed and sent to Moscow. Tatkelefl's ot hbors in the village thought. the poor man gonemad for sending his works to the old city of the Czars, and predicted that the sum he had spent for them was thrown away. Fortu- nately for Tatkeleff and for Russia, iheir pre- dictions were not verified by the result. The Bremen Mummies. The cathedral, erected in the twelfth century, is the, only interesting church of which Bremen can boast. Itis now a Protestant church, and contains the finest organ in Germany. Its great- est attraction to strangers is the exmibition of several mummies, the oldest baving been 400 years, and the most recent 60 years, i an nnde- Jayed condition. The vault in which thoy repose gossesael the property of preventing decomposi- ion, in proof of which poultry is frequently sus- pended in it, and & venerable tarksy, 100 years 91, being at the present time banging on the Fall. The corpses bear no_evidences of decay 201 the cate f eman o sppesreato ‘on their conntenance the apj znt“ death, except that the dust of sges has somewhst colored them, Thers are about s dozen e 1aid out in their coffins. The flesh feels like parchment, and the cheexs of an old Countess, who has lain here 400 years, look quite plump. One is tha re- mains of an English officer, shot in a duel nine- ty yoars ago, with & bullet-hole in hia breast mi » ehnttered shoulder. A corpulent old General is stitl corpulent, and a dozen chicken., hung up nincty years ago, bave their feathers all intact. The vault in which they lay is aboat thirty feot long and fifteen feot wide, and is above ground, in one of the crypts of the church. Therp is nothing peculiar about it, and there seems no reason why it should preserve bodics ‘from decay more_than any other room in Bre- men. The exhibition of tLese curiosities gives an income to the church of about £20 per dsy, and is quite a valuable source of revenue. Itis not everybody Wwho can expect to bo o remu_ier~ ative after they have given-up the ghost. excellent