poraneous power. Dr. Samuel Johnson thought in the same style with other men, and then translated the ideas thus embodied, into his well known sonorous and mechanical rythm. Instances of this double process are on record-instances in which the great essayist first expressed himself in ordinary terms, and then clothed the sentiment in its new and characteristic dress. It was even so with Chalmers. His written, and much of his spoken language, was translated from the ordinary vehicle of thought into his own peculiar style. But in this style there are a force, and a majesty, and a grand music which in themselves possess a fascination. Both auditor and reader are carried along by its very ponderosity, and the roll of its oriental and barbaric melody. And so sublimely energetic was the man, that the language employed, so far from offending by its singularity, seemed the very instrument that was fitted for the orator's grasp. The energy of Dr. Chalmers's delivery is inconceivable by any one who never heard him. In the impetuosity and power of his utterance, in the greatness of his thoughts and sentiments, and in the splendid appropriateness of his illustrations, and in the majesty of his appeals, the awkwardness of a very uncouth gesticulation, and a strikingly provincial pronunciation were entirely forgotten. His figure and motions were any thing but graceful; but you saw that all his motions were natural. His voice was not musical, and we believe he never took a lesson in elocutionary inflexion, but his tones and modulations were the spontaneous exponents of genuine feeling; and when he rose into some of his loftiest soarings, his organs gave forth a solemn and rapturous sound, like what we can imagine to be the voice of an angel sent on some embassage of mingled entreaty, expostulation and threatening. It was then that he held his audience spellbound. It was not pathos, it was not sarcasm, it was not ornate description. There might be occasionally the presence of all these. But it was sublimity, loftiness, celestial grandeur. If you wept, your tears were tears rather of ecstasy than of sorrow; if you trembled, it was as one would tremble were the eternal world disclosed to him; if you rejoiced, it was joy unspeakable; and the whole effect was heightened by the certainty, founded on the preacher's scrupulous habit of arguing, that you were not led captive by mere impulse, but that your emotion was the legitimate consequence of the vivid apprehension of truth.

We have not entered on many points of distinction in the oratory of Dr. Chalmers. Other periodicals have anticipated us in this matter. But we have endeavored to state what we believe to be one or two of its peculiar excellencies; and the careful notice of which would be of advantage to the American people. We are too apt to substitute declamation and moving anecdote for eloquence. And we often evince a distressing impatience of close and substantial demonstration. We frequently would dismiss our reason into the back ground, that we may enjoy the intoxication of excited feeling. This is mental dissipation-rhetorical intempe

rance-and we should have no objection to join a society in order to put it down. The enjoyment of a lofty argument, close and cogent throughout, while also impassioned in its style and bright in its illustration, is perhaps the noblest pleasure which the world affords; and when we cannot get such argument we would much prefer the argument without the splendor, to the most shewy glit ter and the prettiest description without the argument.

THE JEWS.

If a man wishes to have something like a correct idea of what was the appearance of the Jews in days of old, he must visit the East. The Jews of the United States, of England, of France, of Germany and Holland, dress as do other people. There is nothing distinctive about them save in their physiognomy. Nor is this always the case, although it is very generally. I have known Jews whom it would be next to an impossibility to discover to be such by any feature of their countenances.

But in the East, the children of Abraham are easily to be dis tinguished from the rest of the people. In Poland, Russia and Hungary, where they wear a peculiar dress, they have nevertheless a dirty, dingy look, which is not agreeable-a sort of half orientalism, which, like all other hybrids, is repulsive. But the Jew on the shores of the Mediterranean and the Levant is another sort of being. The better classes are clad in a very picturesque and striking manner. They are a cleanly, pleasant people. Their pale faces, generally slender forms, compact and wirey limbs, dark eyes, olive complexion, black and often curly hair, their aquiline and thick noses, etc., are very unmistakable indications of their origin. Their flowing dress-wide pantaloons or small clothes, loose blue or white over-robe, with a broad sash or girdle around the waist, their sandals or light boots, and their white turban-like head-dresses-all mark them out as Jews.

When I was coming from Constantinople to Trieste in an Austrian steamer, last December, we had several Jews on board. Among them was an old merchant of Damascus, who was one of the most interesting men I have ever fallen in with in the East. He was near eighty years of age, very richly dressed, and of most agreeable and even princely manners. He spoke Italian fluently, as well as Turkish, Arabic and Hebrew. He was evidently a man of property, and his air and general intelligence demonstrated that he had seen a good deal of the world-of the Eastern world-for as to our Western hemisphere, he knew comparatively but little of it. He was, however, better informed than one of his nation, a venerable old convert to Christianity, whom I saw at War

saw in the year 1837, and who, when he learned that I had come from America, and that that country is on the other side of the earth, gravely asked me how I had gotten up from that other, and as he supposed lower side of the world-whether I had come up through a hole in the middle, or had climbed over the edge, and if I had not found it very difficult to make the ascent, etc. The Damascus Jew was better informed in this respect than he of Warsaw, but still his knowledge of America was quite limited. One thing, however, he knew-the existence of religious liberty in these United States-where the Jews (some fifty thousands, and their number is constantly increasing) enjoy-save in North Carolina and New Hampshire, which are, in this respect, par ignobible fratrum-all the rights, civil, religious and political, which other. men possess. Often did he speak about our glorious country, as every American, who deserves the name, delights to hear. He knew of that noble letter which Mr. Webster wrote, when Secretary of State, in behalf of the persecuted Jews of Damascus.

Never shall I forget the picturesque dress, the accomplished manners, the noble carriage and air, and the fine face of this interesting old man. I do not believe that Father Abraham himself was a finer looking or more dignified personage.

B.

DESPONDENCY.

Oh Life! a sad and cheerless scene art thou to me,
And slow and solitary moves each gloomy hour;
Drear is the landscape, no brightening tints I see,
But own with sinking heart Despondency's dark power.

Fair Hygeia flies my steps, she turns to me no more,
And Hope, which in my youth a beam of brilliance shed,
Is gone the mental page, so soothing oft before,

Alas! no longer soothes, its magic charm is fled.

I weep o'er withered hopes which only bloomed to die,
And Memory, as I backward trace the joys I knew,
Adds yet a deeper pang as with a pensive eye,

She sadly points to bliss which, ah! too quickly flew.

But be hushed these murmurs-He who wounds the heart,
My Father--He who never deals a needless blow,
Oh! yet may stay His hand and heal each bitter smart,
Or soon within the grave will hide my ev'ry woe.

8. W. P.

A SPRING EMBOWERED IN TREES.

BY A. F. OLMSTED.

The spring! the spring! the playful spring,
That bubbles through the grass,

From rock to rock its echoes ring,
Gladdening all who pass.

The sparkling spring! the sparkling spring!
Thither will I rove;

Thither when the heat shall bring

A joy beneath its grove.

And there I'll pluck the elder blows,
And sip the gelid wave;

And there I'll lift the blooming rose
Up from its watery grave.

And there I'll watch the merry brook
Meandering through the bower,
And there I'll cast a lingering look
In many a pleasant hour.

When the summer blazes wide,
And pours its fervid heat,
I'll linger by thy glassy tide,
And taste thy cool retreat.

When winter sheds its snow,
Investing nature round,
Often to thy fount I'll go,

Still bubbling through the ground

Even when the melting flood

Shall fill thy channel wide,

And wake thy lonely solitude

With the torrent's roaring tide.

Bound along thou playful spring,
And ripple through the grass,
From rock to rock in echoes ring,
And through yon narrow pass.

Sparkle, sparkle, merry spring,
Laughing through the cavern ring,

While upon thy bosom bright,

Elder blossoms spangle white.

New Haven, Conn., 1847.

DESULTORY THOUGHTS UPON MEN AND THINGS.

In glancing over the field of literature, my thoughts in their roving, have found rest for a moment upon the great names of suffering genius who have contributed so largely to enrich it. There was Dante, the inimitable poet of his day, whose genius sparkles in his verse like gems of superb brilliancy, obliged to wield his pen in exile; Galileo, whose masterly spirit rose to the skies to reveal new truths to man, in the fields of astronomy, tortured by the inquisition; Johnson, shrinking away to his garret for shelter-and even this almost withheld from him on account of his poverty; Bacon, the profound philosopher, the author of the Organum, refused even a cup of beer, and that too before the great temperance movement; Cowley, running mad from the want of proper attention; and a host of others whose writings adorn the literature of their age, sacrificing themselves to the spur of immediate want. What a picture of suffering genius! The mind may contemplate it, but the pen cannot portray it in its highest colors. Happily, for those who would now join the republic of letters, the world is awake to the progressive march of intellect, and men who devote themselves to the cause of learning can now meet a better reward. We can mourn over the fate of the great pioneers, who suffered in the cause of learning, and be filled with grateful sympathy at their remembrance. We can treasure up their memories, and thus be quickened to pay all due regard to those who are leading the way through untrodden fields of knowledge. We can learn from their calamities to shut our eyes to prejudice that would lead us to withhold our charity and aid from those who are, at the present age, bringing out new wonders and improvements for the benefit of the human race.

Neglect of talent in times past has been occasioned by the prevailing ignorance of communities. The world never appreciated profound talent, until it found itself advanced, civilized and energized by the accumulated strokes of genius. Since art and science were wedded to each other, the ignoramus is compelled to respect talent; to aspire to it; to obtain it. Build a rail road through a country of savages; put upon it the steam car to dash along with its tremendous roar, and you will civilize that community. The very first appearance of the engine will induce a spirit of inquiry in the mind of the savage from the wonder it produces; and this is the first step toward improvement.

What more effectual means could be devised to elevate the character of the Indian tribes who inhabit our western tracts of country, than the noble project of Whitney? Aside from all the commercial advantages to be derived from the construction