On this page

• Text (2)

  Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

  • 

    Untitled Article

  • 

    Untitled Article

• Transcript

  • Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.

    Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.

    Untitled Article

    Amon <* the former must be reckoned , we fear , that which . Headley , the * ' AddSan of America / ' relates . While Mezzofanti was as yet but an obscure priest in the north of Italy , he was called one day to confess two foreigners condemned for piracy , who were to be executed next day . On entering their cell , he found them unable to understand a word he uttered . Overwhelmed with the thought that the criminals sfcould leave the world without t he consolations of religion , he returned to his room , resolved to acquire the language before morning . This task he accomplished , arid next day confessed the two men in their own tongue . Whatever credit may be due to this story , it is undoubted tliat his progress as a linguist was magical ; he explored the literature . of the East and West , and in the midst of troubled times and great personal misfortunes during the wars of the French Republic and the Empire , persisted in his ascetic devotion to '¦ l earning . It must be admitted that , at least after 1815 , he-was not without munificent patrons , and that he stood in "high favour at -the ' Papal' Court . Men of all nations delighted to converse with him , among others Byron , who termed hinx a monster of languages , the Briareus of parts of speech , a walkingpolyglot , who should have been interpreter to the Tower of Babel . In the midst of these studies he was interrupted , in 1820 , by an attack of ill health , which , induced the physicians to order peremptorily the discontinuance ¦ of his lectures for six months . From that time , however , his memory became one prodigious receptacle of languages and dialects , ancient and modern , Oriental and European , dead and living , and withmen . of all nations was he able freely to converse . It was riot enough that he could beat Byron in the slang of BilHnsgate , roar -down a Cornish bully in hisown dialect , gossip with Frisean peasants , argue ¦ with all the sages of Persia and Asia Minor , confute Buddha and Brahma themselves without theaid of an interpreter ; but he would be a Welshman in Wales and an Abyssinian in Shoa ; he would dive into the Romaic poetry and Syriac legends ; be would sing in their own tongues the songs of Sicily and Poland ; to him Mahratta was an enjoyment and Algonquin a luxury . It was not enough that be knew Hindostani so long as he remained ignorant of that which was spoken in Guzerat and when he had mastered the speech of China and Ceylon , the Ilmorma , Amarrina , and Angolese barbarisms , then he mastered Irish , and the Etrnria Celtic , and played with the Eugubian Tables ; next , he punned in Mexican and Peruvian , and ranged over the languages of Russia , and this enormous gathering of er . uditioa lasted until , during the French revolution of 1848 , he died . la 1846 he himself stated thai , in whole or in part , he knew seventyeight languages and dialects , and his nephew , Gaetano Minarelli , has compiled a list of one hundred and fourteen- But , as Dr . llussell shows , these statements must be cautiously examined and explained . His own estimate is that Mezzofanti spoke with rare excellence , frequently tested , thirty lan-\ guages ; nine " fluently , but hardly sufficiently tested , " eleven " rarely and less perfectly / ' eight in a few sentences and conversational forms , fourteen he wa 3 known to have studied from books , but not to have spoken , "while he spoke or understood the peculiarities of at least fifty special dialects , ranging from those of Xiang-Si and Huquan to the Somersetshire ^ and Lowland Scotch , from the Berber to the Quipuscoan , from the Debreczeny to the Ancient Gothic and Majorican . With this summary before us we are hardly disposed to question the priority as a linguist assigned by Dr . Russell to Cardinal Mezzofanti . Most readers , we are . sure , will be interested in this remarkable narrative of intellectual industry .

    Untitled Article

    FRIENDS AT THEIR OWN FIRESIDE . Friends at their own Fireside ; or , Pictures of the Private Life of the Peojile called Quakers . By Mrs . Ellis . Two Volumes . Bentley . A worthy Quaker of sufficient means lias lately proposed a prize for the best Essay explaining the causes of Quaker decline . The statistics of the Society show a marked decrease in the number of members , and the Friends themselves generally attribute this to the constant emigration of their sect to America , or to the feebler endeavours now made to gain proselytes . It is probable that the diminution , can admit of another explanation , ; but the fact is , that the true type of the Quaker , —though it may still be found occasionally where railways have scarcely penetrated , is almost as rare as the casso-wary now at the Zoological Gardens , or as that peculiar species of rat which we have nearly succeeded in exterminating from our island . Some twenty years ago it waa remarked that the young adults of the society were attacked by a nervous disease ; and more recently it has been observed that there is a tendency for the men of the sect to complete , not the allotted age of man , but only the much shorter life of fifty . The suppression of all emotion , and the erring from honest nature ' s rule , will produce a strain upon the nerves that not unfrequently ends in imbecility , if not madness ; and in small communities much mischief must have arisen from the system of intermarriages . Quakers have had as little choice in questions of the heart as members of the Royal Family itself ; and to fall in love outside tho charmed circle was equivalent to a formal expulsion . Since the time of which we speak , the Society has undergone the extremes of change , and it is scarcely possible to recognize , in the present altered modes of life , the exclusive , formal , and sharply-defined characteristics of the " neutraltinted" Friend of the last generation . Quakers have been dragged into society by the exigencies of tie times in which we live ; but while the main body has been faithful to its manners and customs , numbers have become very " wet , " and others have renounced their opinions nnd left the sect , either for the sake of their conscience , or for convenience . Mrs . Ellis ' s book is not an essay on the decline of Quakerism , but wo think she might fairly claim tho prize . She is solicitous to give an exact picture of the domestic and social life of the Friends * as they lived fifty years- ago , when sofas were an undreamt-of luxury , and when it was forbidden to enforco a . simple statement by anything so positive as saying , " I am sure" Without any set intention , our authoross hits tho right nail on the hoiu 3 , and all Uer early impressions only drive the conviction homo to ourmiuds that Quakerism has etfected its own destruction by its unnatural restraints ,, which are at variance with instinct , impulse , reason and everything olae . Even in the most rigid tunes the members showed a tendency

    to break through restrictions . The women made up for colour and form ' their costume by the costliness of their materials ; and their linen -i " i muslins were of the very finest and most exquisite manufacture . Tji - little thought they were paving the way for lace and bugles , and th ; it tt ^ establishment of a wealthy Friend in 1858 would have nothing to dlstiii ' n-u i f it " from that of any other person , and not unfrequently wujlit compote ^ elegance and luxury with that of the most fashionable . " The i'luinrr C ] "I been gradual , but it is natural . It would have delighted Charles Laml / who deplored the wide gulf that separated the Quakers from " the world " In -writing to Bernard Barton , lie begged him to write something t 0 make Non-Quakers reconciled to his doctrines ' ^ by showing sometliing Tike them in mere Unman operations . " Here " Eli-a" confusedly leaves oft ? 1 ' ei-hans " he was afraid .: " of treading on the prejudices of the Suffolk Quaker . ' . Mrs . Ellis ' s pictures look like transcripts from the life , and experi ence has taught her that a careful observer need not invent , for nature never tires , of romancing it for them . Her hook is delightful as a novel , and at the same time it is valuable and instructive , for it is the history of a sect whose peculiar observances , in their very . strictest sense , Lave almost become , a tradition . The loves and troubles of the younger ¦ branches of two or three well-to-do Quaker families serve to bring out many characteristic traits , and \ ve have betrothals , weddings , funerals , and social meetings , -witli all the quaint belongings of fifty years ago . The hero of the book is one Eeuben L . aw , the outset of whose . career , Ay-hen he -winces ¦ under- the perpetual restraint of petty formulas ,. ¦ quit e-prepares our . mind for the ultimate , change in his ' . apparel , and condition . lie brings upon himself misery and , ruin by falling in love with a-. charming ; girl who is not a ' " Friend . " His sister Susannah , although not theloveliest ^ is certainly the most winning of the several heroines . Some might prefer Dora or LytU . v whose loves were - tolerably unruffled , and whose very faces—by their " prettiness—were rebels to the true faith . It is Susannah who bears her griefs sweetly , and through sorrow looks " more beautiful than beauty ' s self . " Outwardly she conforms , and her look is self-possessed , while she is conscious of the earthquakes beneath her feet . Paul ¦ Rutherford is her lover . lie is a snake in drab , who offers his hand and heart after he has been for some time married to a woman beneath / him in circumstances . Susannah-meets and recognizes her rival . ¦ ¦ ¦ . ¦ '¦ ¦; - . \ ' - . - . ¦ ¦ ¦ „ "¦ . ¦¦ ° - ... " Hast thoufound me , Ob , mine enemy ! " might well have been Susannahs exclamation ; for there stood the woman—the one only being- in tbe ^ vhole world on whom ' , it was impossible just now for her to bestOTV a look of kindness . Nav ; if tlie red flush which suddenly overspread her countenance , and the quickened step " andhaughty bearing , which instantly transformed her into apparently a different being , might be taken as an index to her feelings , there was not only no kindness in her heart towards tbis woman , tut something very much like loathing , and almost hate-To meet this object in her path was , indeed , a terrible trial of those altered sentiments : —those calm convictions which were to her so rich in peace and consolation to her trembling soul . Oh ! why had this shadow crossed her path at the very moment when the long frozen stream of feeling was Just beginning to burst its icy bonds , and to flow again .-with warm and genial current , ministering health and gladness to the tide of life ? ° Perhaps if Susannah ' s feelings had been analyzed , it might havo been discovered that some of a less serious nature mingled with the repulsion and abhorrence -with which this unfortunate being was rejected . Her very countenance , so handsome in itself , bat lax and told in expression , would have been revolting to her under any circumstances ; and her dress a little above that of the working class , yet inorc distinguished ky gay colours than good taste , did not tend to make the general impression , more agreeable . Besides which there was the memory of that laugh on the night ' when she was Grst seen , and when she threw bade tho imputation cast upon her companion with scorn as well as' defiance—all these , though comparatively tiiilcs in lln-inselve . s , and not assuming the form-of any definite idea , had all so burnt their fiery way , along ¦ with deeper feelings , into the very centre of Susannah ' s heart , that she could * nut see so much as the outline of this woman ' s figure without desiring to escape as fr . iin some ¦ venomous or devouring monster . And then that child—ugh ! Susannah shuddered as she became convinced that her steps were notonlv followed , hut that she herself was the object of pursuit . An instinctive sense of personal dignity prevented her from so much as quickening her own pace beyond an ordinary - walk , but the woman stretched , on , regardless enough of all dignity—all intrusion—of everything , in short , but the one purpose she was determined to accomplish ; for there -was something she must know , and of whom could she ask it now ? Poor wretch ! she was half distracted , and little dreamt of the sensation lier approach wns Awakening within that shrouded heart which be . it m near her own ; nnd nuf . only Jiow , but which had so long been , beating with nn interest as intensely centred in the same object , viewing that object too ' through the snme medium—tlm 'partial colouring of woman's love . Alike in this , although she knew it not , but ^ puratcd wider than the poles by everything besides , though that also she did not know , tho woman walked on , until , at last , making a more determined- e / lbrt , sliu confronted her companion , compelling her to stop , and then . site spoke . Tho voice was not offensive , and her manner was so imploring , and so icintost , it might have softened any heart not previously steeled againat hei * . u I bog your pardon , " she begun , f : but could you tell mo where I . might find Mr . Reuben Law ?" Susannah made no answer , but deviating n little from tho pnth , again went on . " Oh ! do tell me , if you please , " said tho woman , now almost sobbing and walking on . She was answered only by silence . Neither look nor movement indicated that her request was heard . " But , perhaps , " the woman went on to say , " you yourself could toll me just what I want to know . There ia somebody who waa going to leave tho country . D" you think ho is gone ?" Still there was no answer . Tho womnn w . ua lofting pnticnuo . Sliu . wni not naturally gifted with much . " Oh ! woman , " . she exclaimed , " I shall dio if you don't tull me . Why you miiBt know . He used often to como here . If you would only be-. so kind as to apeak to me—one single word would do ; only tell me vhcthur lie him gone or not . For the dear child ' s sake , do toll mo that . " Susannah hud now readied a stile whk : li looked very formidable to her , Ikmmiiso of tho advantage it would afford her unwelcome com pan ion ; who , no doulil , mail" the . samo calculation upon this point of their Jiitorcoui'HO , and keeping vt'iy clou * , e . iid nothing more , until the moment when Susannah ' s face was unavoidabl y' hiili' -uirn'td towards hor i when she renewed her appeal , with still greater ournoNtueHS tlian 1 » r »» v . Tho stile being now between them , Susannah felt more courage j and laying hur hand upon it for a moment as if to prevent tins woman naasing , nho said hastily ,-- < - " G ° away . I uoliove theo to bo a hold , bad woman . "

    Untitled Article

    54 ft ' . __ _^_ - ^ -- ^ " 2 ^ M J j J ^ . Aj ^ j ; J ! i-- ^ --l J-. [ yo . 428 ; June 5 , 1858 .

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), June 5, 1858, page 546, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2245/page/18/