1857.] Family Unity. 271 no bickering, no envy, no selfishness, and no rudeness, there must be, and there is, respect. And where there is respect, there is love; and where there is love their is unity, and where there is unity there is peace and happiness. There is a chain which binds us together, which if one link be broken, the result must prove disastrous to our peace; and there is no link in this chain of more importance, than respect. The brother or sister that will not show due respect to every member of the family, and especially to the parents, is on the path of dishonor and ruin, and is severing the most vital cord of family unity. Next, we should prudently govern our conversation. The apostle James says, "The tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison!" An unruly tongue, may not only be considered an evil, but one of the greatest and most pernicious of evils. It is compared to a little fire, placed among a great deal of combustible matter, which soon raises a flame and consumes all before it. There is such an abundance of sin in the tongue, that it is justly termed, a world of iniquity. How many defilements does it occasion! How many consuming flames does it kindle! The peace of society is often broken by it. Defiling passions are flamed by it; and the whole body is often drawn into sin and guilt by the tongue. It is also hard to govern. One man cannot govern the tongue of another. Each of us must exercise authority upon our own tongues. And even aid must be invoked from God if we would have it ruled right. Brute creatures may be kept within certain bounds; they may be managed by certain rules; and even serpents may be so used as to do no hurt with all their poison; but the tongue is very apt to break through all bonds and rules, and to spit out its poison on some occasions, notwithstanding the utmost care. So that it does not only need to be watched, and guarded, and governed, but also as a sower of discord and evil, to be held in the most severe subjection. Unless our conversation is prudently governed, and the utmost care taken of language, on trivial occasions especially, fire-brands of distraction may be sown in the family, which will be more or less productive of tumult and confusion. If every one then, will pay due regard to every member of the household, and keep his or her tongue under subjection, and conduct themselves with honor and order, by the help of divine grace all will be able to realize bliss on earth, which is allied to the unity and love of that assembly and church of the first born in heaven. If a greater feeling of unity prevailed in families, we have good reason to conclude there would be less disposition to wander away, and live prodigal and reckless lives. Young friend, if you are not nurturing that home-feeling, which is calculated to bind you to those who are your nearest ones on earth, in an indissoluble unity, like Cain you will become a wanderer, either in affection or conduct, and will sooner or later have the mark of dishonor and shame on your forehead, to be seen of all men. Remember that what you are at home, you will be away. If disrespect predominates there, it will also abroad. If an evil tongue casts its venom out there, it will do the same at other places. If your conduct is disorderly there, it will also be so through life. Family peace and unity, is promoted only by an honorable, respectful, and righteous life. PRESCOTT, THE HISTORIAN. PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. THE Massachusetts Teacher contains a very interesting article from the pen of Rev. Geo. E. Ellis, upon Mr. Prescott and his histories. In this article Mr. Ellis introduces a friendly and communicative letter from Mr. Prescott, explaining the origin and extent of the difficulties under which it is well known he has labored in the composition of his histories. It is, says the Boston Journal, a pleasantly related tale of a faithful pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. "I suppose you are aware that, when in college, I received an injury in one eye which deprived me of the use of it for reading and writing. An injudicious use of the other eye, on which the burden of my studies was now wholly thrown, brought on a rheumatic inflammation which deprived me entirely of sight for some weeks. When this was restored the eye remained in too irritable a state to be employed in reading for several years. I consequently abandoned the study of the law upon which I had entered: and, as a man must find something to do, I determined to devote myself to letters, in which independent career I could regulate my own hours with reference to what sight might enable me to accomplish. "I had early conceived a strong passion for historical writing, to which, perhaps, the reading of Gibbon's autobiography contributed not a little. I proposed to make myself a historian in the best sense of the term, and hoped to produce something which posterity would not willingly let die. In a memorandum book, as far back as the year 1819, I find the desire intimated; and I proposed to devote ten years of my life to the study of ancient and modern literature-chiefly the latter-and to give ten years more to some historical work. I have had the good fortune to accomplish this design pretty nearly within the limits assigned. In the Christmas of 1837 my first work, the History of Ferdinand and Isabella, was given to the public. "During my preliminary studies in the field of general literature my eyes gradually acquired so much strength that I was enabled to use them many hours of the day. The result of my studies at this time I was in the habit of giving in the form of essays in public journals, chiefly in the North American, from which a number, quite large enough, have been transferred to a separate volume of Miscellanies. Having settled on a subject for a particular history, I lost no time in collecting the materials, for which I had peculiar advantages. But, just before these materials arrived, my eye had experienced so severe a strain that I enjoyed no use of it again for reading for several years. It has indeed never since fully recovered its strength, nor have I ever ventured to use it again by candle light. I well remember the blank despair which I felt when my literary treasures arrived from Spain, and I saw the mine of wealth lying around me which I was forbidden to explore. I determined to see what could be done with the eyes of another. I remembered that Johnson had said, in reference to Milton, that the great poet had abandoned his 1857.] Prescott, the Historian. 273 projected history of England, finding it scarcely possible for a man without eyes to pursue a historical work requiring reference to various authorities. The remark piqued me to make an attempt. "I obtained the services of a reader who knew no language but his own. I taught him to pronounce the Castilian in a manner suited, I suspect much more to my ear than to that of a Spaniard; and we began our wearisome journey through Mariana's noble history. I cannot even now call to mind, without a smile, the tedious hours in which, seated under some old trees in my country residence, we pursued our slow and melancholy way over pages which afforded no glimmering of light to him, and from which the light came dimly struggling to me through a half intelligible vocabulary. But, in a few weeks the light became stronger, and I was cheered by the consciousness of my own improvement; and when we had toiled our way through seven quartos I found I could understand the book when read about two-thirds as fast as ordinary English. My reader's office required the more patience; he had not even this result to cheer him in his labor. "I now felt that the great difficulty could be overcome; and I obtained the services of a reader whose acquaintance with modern and ancient tougues supplied, as far as it could be supplied, the deficiency of eyesight on my part. But, though in this way I could examine various authorities, it was not easy to arrange in my mind the result of my reading, drawn from different and often contradictory accounts. To do this I dictated copious notes as I went along; and when I had read enough for a chapter-from thirty to forty and sometimes fifty pages in lengthI had a mass of memoranda in my own language, which would easily bring before me at one view the fruits of my researches. These notes were carefully read to me; and while my recent studies were fresh in my recollection I ran over the whole of my intended chapter in my mind. This process I repeated at least half a dozen times, so that when I finally put my pen to paper it ran off pretty glibly, for it was an effort of memory rather than creation. This method had the advantage of saving me from the perplexity of frequently referring to the scattered passages in the originals, and it enabled me to make the corrections in my own mind which are usually made in the transcript, and which with my mode of writing as I shall explain-would have much embarrassed me. Yet I must admit that this method of composition, when the chapter was very long, was somewhat too heavy a strain on the memory to be altogether recommended. "Writing presented me a difficulty even greater than reading. Thierry, the famous blind historian of the Norman Conquest, advised me to cultivate dictation; but I have usually preferred a substitute that I found in a writing-case made for the blind, which I procured in London forty years since. It is a simple apparatus, often described by me, for the benefit of persons whose vision is imperfect. It consists of a frame of the size of a sheet of paper, traversed by brass wires, as many as lines are wanted on the page, and with a sheet of carbonated paper, such as is used for getting duplicates, pasted on the reverse side. With an ivory agate stylus the writer traces his characters between the wires on the carbonated sheet, making indelible warks, which he cannot see, on the white page below. This treadmill operation has its defects; and I have repeatedly supposed I had accomplished a good page, and was proceeding in all the glow of composition to go ahead, when I found I had forgotten to insert a sheet of my writing paper below, that my labor had all been throwu away, and that the leaf looked as blank as myself. Notwithstanding these and other whimsical distresses of the kind, I have found my writing case my best friend in my lonely hours, and with it have wtitten nearly all that I have sent into the world the last forty years. "The manuscript thus written and deciphered-for it was in the nature of hieroglyphics-by my secretary was then read to me for correction, and copied off in a fair hand for the printer. All this, it may be thought, was rather a slow process, requiring the virtue of patience in all parties concerned. But in time my eyes improved again. Before I had finished Ferdinand and Isabella' I could use them some hours every day. And thus they have continued till within a few years, though subject to occasional interruptions, sometimes of weeks and sometimes of months, when I could not look at a book. And this circumstance, as well as habit-second nature-has led me to adhere still to my early method of composition. Of late years I have suffered not so much from inability of the eye as dimness of the vision, and warning comes that the time is not far distant when I must rely exclusively on the eyes of another for the prosecution of my studies. Perhaps it should be received as a warning that it is time to lose them altogether." STATISTICS OF COUNTRY LIFE. One of our contemporaries has prepared the following statistics of country life: 1857.] A Plain Man's Philosophy. 275 A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY. BY CHARLES MACKAY. I'VE a guinea I can spend, I've a wife, and I've a friend, And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown; And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown; By my shady sycamore, Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown; In my arbor as you pass, And I'll tell you what I hate and what I love, John Brown. And the children's early words, And a loving woman's voice, low and sweet, John Brown; And the want of common sense, And arrogance, and fawning and deceit, John Brown; And the brier in the bowers, And I love an open face, without guile, John Brown; And a proud contented slave, And lout who'd borrow than he'd toil, John Brown. That awakes emotions strong, And the word of hope that rises him who faints, John Brown; Of the foolish who repine, And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; If I seek my garden gate, And survey the world around me, and above, John Brown; And I sigh for human kind, And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown. So, if you like my ways, I will tell you how I live so unvex'd, John Brown; Nor destroy one day the pleasures of the next, John Brown; For I've found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown; I've a hundred pounds a year, And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown. |