e >!- fi '<_ jZ’. GIBSON PEACOCK. Editor. VOLUME XXIII.—-NO.' 89. N 4» BY JIUTOK. In jinplcton’a Journal for July 31st,wc obsorvo one ol those literary misconceptions which are almost impossible to stop when once tliey have begun to circulate among the throng of un critical renders and unscrupulous publishers. The Journal in question publishes, in au article entitled “ The Story of Paradise Lost,” the following remarks, pointed by. a quota tion : The exact date when Milton—of whom the Bishop of Avrauehcs wrote to SahnasiuS, who had dune him the honor of abusing him, “How can you occupy yourself with an object so insignificant as tliis Milton V”—began his great Christian poem is not known: but wo do know that for many years, mostly under his own roof, in Artillery _ Walk, or . while sauntering through the streets of London, when Charles Stuart was amusing himself with his licentious court; when John Dryden was witnessing his own plays performed at the Globe Theatre; when poor Bam Butler was growing morose from the neglect and illusagc; when the lively and garrulous Samuel Pepys was running about embalming notes \for pos terity: and when the Puritan poet’s friend, Andrew Marvell, was interesting himself in his behalf—the plan was carried and resolved in the blind man’s brain, till at length he was able to exclaim : “Give me my lyre, I teel the stirrings of a gift divine; Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, Lit by no skill of mine!” Anybody reading the above would suppose,' as the writer apparently supposes, the quoted stanza to lie of Milton’s authorship. There is authority for the belief, for the lines occur in a poem included in editions of Milton’s works both in Eugland and America. It was first slipped in, by t bold publisher who was very williug to add to the eclat of his edition liy presenting an inedited poem from the pen of the author of “Paradise Lost.” The verses, which are very fine, arc placed in a false posi tion, and very much wronged, by the absurd forgery. To show how excellent they really are, cite them, from the memory of a friend who has them by heart; we believe the quotation is exact : ’ 1 MILTON ON HIS BLINDNESS. 1 am old and blind: M en point at mu as smitten by God’s frown; Alllicted, and deserted of my kind, Yet am I not cast down. All-merciful One! When men are furthest, then art Thou most hear! When friends pass by,my weaknesses to shun, Thy chariot I hear. Thy-glorious face . Is leaning towards me, and its holy light ■ Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, And there is no more night. ■I have naught to fear! r « Tliis darkness is the shadow of Thy wing Beneath it lam almost sacred: here Can come nu evil thing. In a .purer clime My being fills with rapture; waves; of thought 801 l in upon my spirit; strains sublime Break overunsought.' , ; Give me now my, lyre! J led the stirrings of a gift divine; Within my bosom glows Unearthly tire, - ■■ Lit by no skill of mine! - ; :■ ; The poem is about as pure, elevated and classic as poetry can be, perhaps as much so as that of Milton. But it is obviously modern, a composition in the English of to-day, not that of the reign of Charles 13. The obvipus merit of the lines is insulted by challenging their - identity with the language of Marvell-and i Milton and Phillips. The true story.of their composition is this: They were written by a young Quakeress of Philadelphia, Hiss Elizabeth Lloyd. She was S and is a friend of "Whittier, and her pen has ■ been often active in the cause of philanthropy during the anti-slavery agitation of the riast f two decades. Some other poems of hers, such . as “ Faithfulness,” and “Lines on Witnessing, jj Friends’ Marriage Ceremony,” are, very fine, v and have appeared in the newspapers. Her.wri tings have unfortunately never been collected The “ Milton on his BUndness” was a poem ) written in.: youth, and caught the . public ear t on its first jHihlication, leading to the dubious ; compliment of being straightway placed among the forgeries of literature. Nothing, we suppose, could he more distasteful to the lady author. The mistake has, in fact, been several times corrected in the press, but people do not believe-much in such corrections when they have the authority of a real bound volume >'-i pu the other side. Some of the correctors themselves , indulged in the uiost causeless errors; we have seen it stated .that the authoress" was herself blind, and that it was a comparison of her unfortunate circumstances with those of the great master of epic writing that had led her to imagine his feelings with such sympathetic insight. The statement is uutrue, and Elizabeth Lloyd (whose v.-me is now changed by marriage) is not blind; there is no foundation forthe as sertion, unless it he a fact, as we have heard, that private griefs of a sacred and inviolable nature havo weakened with weeping the beautiful eyes once bent over the page on which the hymn of blindness was inscribed. We hope that this lady, whose gift is obviotisly one of equal purity and strength, will he in < dueed to desert the ranks of private life so far . as to let the world bear, in a concerted shape, the other strains that have inspired the mind which imagined Milton’s Hymn. No doubt the compositions of such an intellect would take their own fair placein the ranks of verses ‘that the world would not soon let die. tiIIUSTIAJiH Y" IN. ATLANTIC ’ CITY. A thurch Knlerprlwni I Correspondence of the Fhila. Evening BnJletJn.) '■?: Atlantic City, July 21st.—Members of the Episcopal Church who have visited' .Atlantic City iii the pnst seasons have felt the incon venience ■ which has resulted from the want of ; a proper edifice in which to. conduot .their vice. The number of Episcopalians living’ permanently in the town is not now, and : has . never been, large enough, to effect a church organization, or wealthy ' enough to attempt the erection of a building. . It was-not, there-; fore, until two or three gentlomen who .visit: tljp place in summer came, forward and guar anteed funds for the purpose and made an effort in the matter,that .there was .any hope of effecting tho object. Through the instrumentality of these large-hearted persons a church ,has been built, and in a manner at since so beautiful, complete and simple tliat it will bear comparison with any other iirtlio country erected at the same cost. 'Last Sunday the little Gothic building was filled, for the second time, with a large congregation.' Bishop Odenheimcr preached, ana made an earnest appeal to the visitors lor assistance inpaying oft the debt upon the building. He argued. Justly* that as the church was built solely for visitors, visitors should pay for it. But to help the ecclesiastical exchequer'and to speed the good day when St. James’s Church shall be free to all worshippers, some ladies in Atlantic City have arranged to have a fair for the sale of the usual variety of articles in' Mansion Hall, Atlantic City, on Tuesday, the 27th inst., and four days thereafter., They anlr Episco palians and, indeed, all good Christian men and women in Philadelphia and at the soasido city to Come and help them, either by contri bntions of material or a liberal and lavish out lay of cash We hope the appeal will be an swered generously. OBITUARY. Jobn A. Hoebllng, the Bridge Builder. John A; Eoebling, regarded as the most talented and scientific engineer of the age, in that peculiar . branch of / the profession" to which he had 'applied himself, died at 6 o’clock yesterday.morning, at the residence of his son, Ko. 137 Hicks Street, Brooklyn. His death wan the indirect result of an accident which occurred at the Fulton Ferry slip, on the 28th of Juno, when, his foot:was fearfully crushed between the cross-beam of the dock or rack and a float which Was entering the slip. It was found necessary to- amputate the toes, and since the operation Hr.BoebUng has been in a precarious condition. , About eight days ago, tetanus or lock-jaW set in, accom panied, as usual, by spasms, and ultimately caused death. ■ John A. Eoebling was bom on the 12th of June, 1806, in the city of Muhlhauseu, in Thuringia, Prussia. His academical studies were pursued in his native citv, and on their completion he was sent to the Itoyal Polytech nic ochool at Berlin, where he received the degree of Civil Engineer, after an unusually brilliant scholastic career. By the regulations of the school, the three years next succeeding the graduation of a student are to be devoted to the service of the Government; hence, no sooner bad Mr. Eoebling obtained his diploma than he embarked at once upon the practice of his profession. During the greater portion of these three years he was engaged in superintending Government work in West phalia. At the age of 25 he came to this country', and Ki ttled in the neighborhood of Pittsburgh, Peuu., where for several years ho , devoted himself to agricultural pursuits. The country, at that time, had. just entered upon the grand progressive career which has since brought forth suc-h mighty results. In nearly 1 all ot theBtatos canal and slack-water improve ments were projected or in progress, so that when 3lr. Eoebling, wearied with the mo notony of a fanner’s life, sought to enter again upon the profession for which he had prepared himself, he experienced no difficulty in obtain ing an engagement For some years he was employed in canal . work, hut in the meanwhile the age bad advanced another step, and the old-time canal was, forced to give way to the new idea, the rail road. The State of Pennsylvania at this time projected several great railway enterprises, and in the service of that State the subject of this sketch spent three years, surveying and locating three, lines across the; Alleghany' Mountains, from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh. Of these, the line which was ultimately con structed is now known ,as the Pennsylvania Kailway, and \vas built by the Company hav ing that title and not by the State. Having completed his surveys, Mr. Eoebling com menced the manufacture of wire rope, producing the first of that fabric that was ever made in the country. The introduction of these ropes on the in clined planes of the old Portage Kailroad,over which the canal boats of the Pennsylvania Canal were transported, was attended with much difficulty and met with that degree of opposition, which always has risen, and, in all probability, always will rise to retard the pro gress of a new invention or a novel idea. From his experience in the manufacture of wire rope Mr. Eoebling formed Ids opinion relative to its adaptability for bridging, and in 1844 he commenced a work the completion of which was destined to prove that his opinion was a tenable one, in spite of the scoffs and sneers of the incredulous, and the attacks of other civil engineers who deemed the project the outgrowth of a diseased mind. This work was a suspension aqueduct over the Alleghany Kiver at Pittsburgh, to re place the old : aqueduct, which bad. become useless from age. It was completed in May, 1845, and comprised seven spans,each ot 162 ieet. The cables were seven inches in diameter,,and/thesuccess of the work' was such that, during the Succeeding year, Mr. Eoebling was engaged to construct the 316- nongaliela Suspension Bridge, connecting Pittsburgh with Sligo, now a great manufac turing suburb. The spahs of this bridge were eight in number, each, 188 feet in length, and each supported by two 4} inch cables. In this bridge the pendulum process was employed, to counterbalance achoining spans under the pressure of unequal loads. In 1848 Mr. Eoebling, commenced a series of suspension aqueducts on the lino of the Delaware and Hudson Canal, connecting the anthracite coal regions -of Pennsylvania with the tide-water ot the Hudson Biver. These were the Eacka waxen Aqueduct, two spans, 115 feet each, and two 7-inch cables; the Delaware Aqueduct, four spans, 134 feet each, and two 8-inch cables; the High Falls Aqueduct, one span 145 feet, and two 81-inch cables; and the Nevenslnk Aqueduct, one Span, 170 feet, and two 91-inch cables. . They were completed within two years, and are all permanent works, needing merely an .occasional' renowal of the wooden ducts, which decay from the action of the water. It was soon after the completion of these works that Mr. Eoebling removed his works and residence to Trenton, N.J. In 1851 Mr. Eoebling undertook to build a suspension bridge across the Niagara, to con nect the Central Kailroad of New York and the Great Western Kailway of Canada, and in four years succeeded in constructing the first suspension bridge capable of bearing the immense weight of railroad locomotives and trains. The, span of this bridge is 825 feet clear, and its supports are four 10-inch cables. Mr. Eoebling, while the Niagara bridge was building, was also engaged in another of even greater magnitude. This was to have crossed the Kentucky river, on the line of the Cincin nati and Chattanooga Kailroad, with a space of 1,224 feet, but before the structure had been completed the company suspended payment, and the work was discontinued.! In the fall* of 1856, he commenced the great Cincinnati bridge, whose span is 1,030 feet, and, after .haying beenforced, to suspend operations for several years, on account of financial draw backs, brought it to a successful completion in 1867. In the interim, frpm 1858 to 1860, inclu sive, he was engaged oh another suspension bridge at Pittsburgh; The last and greatest work of Mr. Eoebling was,that on which ho was engaged Up to" the time of his death—the EastEiyer Bridge;As, he had prepared all his plans, and made ' most of the arrangements for the construction of the bridge, his death is not so great a misfortune to the cities of New York and Brooklyn as it would have peon had it occurred ait ah: earlier day. As is evidenced by hiscarcor, Mr.Koob ling was a man of indomitable will and per sistent energy. .It is related of him that while he lay sufleringintonse agony from the fearful disease that at length took his life, ho wrote, in one afternoon, ten pages of manuscript, giving directions rolative to the bridge and other matters. A* the time of the/accident,' and during the surgical operation, not one! groan escaped him, although his agony: must have beenfearful. As a man, he was loved and respected by all with whom Jie came in contact. HisTemains will bo conveyed to Bis home in Trenton, if. J., where the funeral will take place. ■ shall ye know him,” savs the Holy Book. Judged by that standard John A. Boebhng has leit behind him a refcortU in scribed on many a noble woric, which shall for years as his most fitting monu ment. The fame of the warrior, the states man, the scholar, is ephemeral, but to this man whose loss is so universally deplored, is vouch safed fame which shall only die with his works. Ho needs no lofty monument, no sounding eulogy, no scholarly epitaph. He lives in his works.— N. Y. Tribune. ' CENTOHIAI. CEI.KBBATIO.V. The Ilundreittb Anniversary off the Founding or Christ Church, Shrews bury,K. J.—Gen. Grant’s Visit. • ■ Binuswsnuinr, N. J., July 22.—Yesterday a large crowd of people, numbering perhaps 2,000, visited this little village of Shrewsbury, for the purpose, ofrasaisting in celebrating the 100th anniversary of Christ Church, the cor ner stone of /which was laid on the 21st of July, 1700. \ . - At an early hour the \ four 1 roads leading to the modest little edifice were thronged with men, women and children, some in stylish car riages, some in farm wagons, some on foot— but all hurrying toward a common centre, there to witness what will long be remembered as one of the most interesting ceremonies re corded in the already-teeming religious annals of New J ersey. The church Wes soon crowded, the graveyard jammed, and the little yellow school-house and the refreshment tent over run with people. At nine o’clock the friends and relatives of the silent dwellers in the churchyard - brought loads of bright flowers to deck the grass-grown graves. Here a mound thrown up a hundred years ago .over the remains of an honored ancestor was strewn With the freshest and brightest floral treasures, by his sons and daughters of the third, and fourth, and fifth generations; and there a'little grave, not a pace in length, on which the dew had not fallen many days, was covered with love-offer ings by the weeping mother so lately bereft of her youngest pet. Bough hands, brown and hard with toil, laid down ten derly over all that was left of the missing ones their tribute of affection; the women, with gentle reverence, hung wreaths of evergreens upon the moss-covered head-stones: and troops of children, awed for the time by the solemn quiet which prevailed, went hither and thither through the streets of the city of the dead, and scattered softly over the graves the fragrant posies they had brought—and all day long, under the Warm sun, and away into the night; the perfume of the flowers filled the air, and breathed to heaven the pure incense of loving hearts. 7 When the beautiful ceremony oTjleeorating the graves was brought to a close, ffifie people flocked into the church, when promptly at 10 o’clock the services of the dav/were opened with prayer. This was followed'by the sing ing of four stanzas of the 152 d hymn by the choristers and congregation,the clergy coming down from the chancel and marching in pro cession through the aisles of the; church and back to their places, Bishop Oden heimer leading. Next came the Venite, the Psalter (Btli selection), the Te Deum, most excellently sung by the choristers, the Jubilate, the Introit (psalm 7t») to the tune pf “ Old Hundred,” the K.vrie Eleison, the Gloria Tibi, and hymn 102. Then came a most in teresting historical sketch by the Kector, the Key. Wmi B. Otis, of which I have availed myself in another part of this letter. After the chanting of the ■ Gloria Patri, an address was delivered by the Bishop of the Diocese, who had come up from Burlington on the day before. Then, alter the anthem, rPs. lxxxiv., verses 1, 2 and 4; the offertory, Hymn 116, .stanza ,'!, and the Sanclus, the sacrament was administered by the Bishop and the attendant priests, nearly 800 people receiving the holy symbols. The Gloria in Pzcehie was then chanted, and to the music of the choir, whosang Hymn 256, the clergy passed down from the chancel in procession as before, and the morning service was over. The music, which was excellent throughout, was under the direction of Charles 3. Fischer, Jr., of the Church of the Holy Apostles, of New York. -The ten choristers were from the same church. At the entrance of the clergy and choir in the morning, the congregation rose and remained standing until the opening sentences were read; and at the close of the service, when the clergy were leaving the chinch, the people stood in their pews until the procession had passed out, \ It Was now two o’clock. VPor fifteen min utes General ;Grant, With his isecondsbn, Ulys ses S., Jr., had been patiently waiting outside in the shade of the trees. He had come from Dong Branch behind Mr. Pettie’s beautiful sorrels, which were now pawing the ground with their hoofs and lashing their sides with their long, cream-colored tails, anxious to in dulge in another six mile dash over the smooth country road to some spot where they could sniff'the salt air before it bad-lost its savor in the thick foliage of the forest. As soon as it was known that the President was here, he was surrounded by hundreds of peo ple, not one in twenty of whom bad ever seen his emotionless face before; and when, at the invitation of Mr. Otis, he alighted from the buggy, the hand shaking to which he was subjected was, in earnestness-at least, about equal to any demon stration of respect I have ever witnessed. The yellow school-house, a small frame build ing in rear of the church, was reached with some difficulty, and here the -President was urged to refresh himself. The little building was crowded almost to suffocation. Both its doors were blocked with men and women,and all its windows filled with open-eyed and opbn mouthed humanity, intent upon securing a glimpse of the great warrior, utiio occupied the head of- the table, en gaged. in discussing the viands sup plied, by the good housewives of Shrews bury and its vicinity. In the yard a large tent had been erected, and this was crowned; as fast as one troop of people passed outsatisiied, another"rushed in to enjoy a like result of hearty exercise over the groaning tables. In due course of time the hungry were all fed. In the school-house, when it was found that not anothersoul could.be prevailed upon to con tinue the least, the cloth (figuratively speak ing) was removed, and Bishop Odenheuner, rising in his place, opposite the President, de livered a brief but impressive address of wel come,in whichlie took occasion to remark that lie and the illustrious head of the nation had really the same object in view—the promo .tion of the mental, ntoval and social, welfare of the people,: ; and that ; it was the bounden duty of both to se cure that end. The presence of the President on that occasion was an, evidence that he re spected the institutions of religion'. as instru ments in the work of elevating the condition ..of the people. Itwas gratifylngtomeetthe Chief Executive in that humble nlace.and the occasion would be rendered doubly memora ble on account of his visit. The President lose timidly to respond to the warm welcome which had been extended; but some"enthusias tic individual who had not noticed the move ment (and who, by-the way, is most sorely mortified at his innocent blunder); got upon Ids feet and called fur three choers for Bishop Odenheimer, which were given with a will. The President was no doubt much rolieved by this unintentional cheok-to- the laconio reply he was about to make, but to those who wished to hear his voice the Interruption was a disappointment not easily borne. Mr. T. L. TWells, ofNew Brunswick, then responded in a happy vein to. the toast; ♦« The Xadie3 of OUR WHOIiE COUNTRY., PHILADELPHIA, FRIDAY, JULY 23,1869. | Shrewsbury,” and Mr. Boggs made a speech; and then the Bishop proposed the health of tbeßectpr, and Mr. Otis replied modestly in self-defence; and there was more toasting and mote responding, and in that stifling Tittle school-room the merry folk would have kept lip their carouse ever so long had it not been announced that it was time to mount for Xiong Branch. An excursion had been planned the day before, and everybody was going. All •lie -tour-wheeled• vehicles from- the whole country-side were theTe . in waiting, and two adventurrous youngsters had run in from. Bed Bank on velocipedes, and there was a solitary horseman, and there were large families in wagons, and I verily believe that if tills were not a weil-to-do neighborhood, and everybody could not afford a wagon or a gig, many a good man would have joined thi3 cara van with awheelbarrow burdened with liis good woman and as large a proportion of Ids olive branches as. he could pack and x>ropel. At last they were all off, ana your correspond ent, almost the sole occupant of the village, was tree to ramble among the graves, and roam over the quiet little church, and gather a mass of material with which to interest the archaeological readers of the Tribune, and par ticularly that numerous class who delight to learn something new touching the early his tory of our young country. . , The church is a small - building, capable of accommodating about 800 people. Its exterior is exceedingly plain. It is slungled all over, and lias a modest little steeple, surmounted by an old iron crown, put up there before the Bevolution. The lnterioristliat-ofan English country church of the old-time, but is most neatly furnished throughout. , At 7.30 P.M., the excursionists having re turned, there was an evening service in the church, which was largely attended. The ser vice was nearly the same as that of the morn ing .but necessarily less elaborate, and several addresses were delivered. The ministers present were Stansberry, of Newark; Putnam, of Bergen; Boggs, of New Brunswick; Howland, of New'xork; Dealy, of Freehold; Itowland of Somerville; J. Smith, of Newark; Poole, of Long Branch; Chet wood, of Keyport; Bunnell of Bed Bank; Goldsborough, of Eatontown; Murray, of Highlands; and Nevins, of Bethlehem, Penn sylvania; besides Bishop Odenheimer and the rector. —Nrn York Tribune. BAKTJIOIfII couuaoG. A Speech from General Sherman. At the Alumni Dinner of Dartmouth, yes terday, the President called on General Sher man for a speech. The General was enthusi astically cheered as he rose to respond. He said: “31r. President: I was in hopes, of course, that anything f had to say would be said in yonder building, where the jingling of glasses and plates might have covered up some of the deficiencies of my words. [Daughter.] But these old gentlemen are cunning ones to have adjourned to this tent, now so beautifully filled with ladies and gentlemen, who probably' expect of me lar more than I can give. I al most feel abashed on attempting to speak in the presence of the Chief Justice and the many men of learning here. Aye, of the very boys who, but a short time since, were speaking in language far more appropriate than I could ever hope to utter. lam simply a plain soldier, and can say what I have to say in few words,direct to the purpose And if I had any special subject whatever, worthy of this occasion, I would endeavor to pursue it'; bnt for-want of a better, I will express the very great pleasure I have experienced to-day and yesterday in seeing iiot only the intelligence of the y oung men whose graduation we have come here to witness, but the spirit of kind ness and reverence which every one of them, and all,. in fact, have manifested toward I the aged men who direct its interests, and towards the cause of learning. Learning of all kinds is entitled to our veneration, whether at Dartmouth, or Yale, or Har vard, at West Point, or "in the common Learning is-learning; it impro ves us all, and we never become too old to learn. We learn to-day, We learn to-morrow, and I suppose we shall continue to learn to tne very last hour of our lives. We cannot tell: it is for God alone to say on which day we shall make the most progress.- lam not,and doriotprofess to belearnedin books,learned in arts.or learned in mere words, but in deeds. I profess to hav ing some knowledge of forming men into or ganizations where their physical power as well as their mental power may produce its full effect. You here have an organization, you here have a System which you may call civil, but it is military. The authority of every one of your Professors is defined, and they group you into classes.' Theygroup classes into other classes, and even after you leave the institu tion they have a hold on your affections, which makes you a body with a single soul, which the man that wants you may move to some common purpose. .. ’That is exactly like i a military organization. We com bine, men by tens, hundreds, thousands and tens of thousands, all animated by by one purpose and guided by one mind, so that they are a concentrated purpose, and will press forward to the accomplishment of any object. If that object be the salvation of a na tion, then the cause is glorious, and enlists tho feelings and challenges the admiration of all mankind. . [Loud applause.] Therefore,in that sense, I, too, xirofess to be a teacher, simply in the lesser art of organization, simply in the lesser art of combining units into tens and tens into thousands and directing them in the interests of the Government, wliicli com mands me to do that which is her pleasure, and-is my pleasure, too. [[Renewed ap plause.] It is_ a common feeling among civil ians that soldiers are men of violence. There is nothing further from the truth. X appeal to the history of America, to the his tory of our own country, from Washington until the present moment, to show that the military men of this country have always been subordinate men—subordinate to the law, sub ordinate to the authorities, never setting up their own judgment in antagonism to that of the nation, but executing its will when that will had found expression in law with a fidelity beautiful to behold; and so long as I continue to hold power and influence, I shall ever direct that power and influence to the end that the military of this couutry, whether a small force scattered all over the nation, or a vast army of volunteers gathered together for some special pur pose, shall sustain the laws of tho hind and support the authority you may place over me; therefore; I feel the same interest in edu cation that you do. It lessens my task; it les sens the task of, every Governor: it lessens the task of the Chief Magistrate. Where tbrough out the land, in New Hampshire, Massachu setts, Florida and Ohio, where schools arid colleges are founded, where men are taught what law means, what order means, what civ ilization means, what refinement means, it is far easier ana more pleasing to govern intelli gent men than govern rude, unlettered men. -The one acts from a high motive am! principle',* aiding and supporting youin carrying out your puipose without confusion, whereas the other must be driven to it by force. There fore I have personal interest in education, and in every intelligent lad I meet I see tbatwhich I hope will pervade all America, and when it does, thore will be no need of armies and very little need of Courts. [Applause.]' Gentlemen, I thank you for .the many compliments you have paid :me; ,especially would I thank the young men who have alluded to me in three or four passages off surpassing compliment. I would also express my thanks to the President' and other oflloers of the College. I wish them, one and all a lorig life. X wish the College may live to the third and fourth and tenth cen tury, and X hope it will live as long as therejs an America, and tlmt I know will live to the end of time. (Prolonged applause-1 Tire Vosemite Talley. Hon. Schuyler Colfax; Vice President, fur nishes to the last l[earth and Home the follow ing description of the . Yosemite Valley, as he saw it in 1805: ' J 1> su: up in the Sierra Nevada, nearly three hundred miles from San I'rancisco, is the pre eminent wonder of our continent, the Yose mite Valley, untrodden by the' foot of the white man till 1851, and difficult of access to tins day. .No wheels have ever rumbled over its 6od, but leaving the stage at Mariposa, sure-tooted horses take you by grades that seem to the eye almost uncliinablc, up rugged mountain-ranges, down deep valleys, through narrow ravines and narrower gorges, aixud majestic forests, over boulders oi granite, skirtipg along hillsides for fifty miles, until at last, from a, jutting point on the often precipi tous trail, you look down into this wonderful cleft or fissure which you must wind around mile after, mile yet to enter. Anticipating something grand, the reality, as is so rarely the case, is, in romantic beauty and wild sub limity, far beyond the mental pictures drawn by the most vivid imagination. The towering Sierras, wbicli the Almighty had thus torn asunder,, are all around. Towns and settle ments and houses are far behind you. It seems the home of the genius of solitude. And there you look straight down nearlya mile, into a narrow' hut smiling valley, eignt miles long, and averaging^but a half a mile in width, W’lth. the Merced Ttiver winding gracefully among grassy meadows and scattered groves; while, like grim sentinels on cither side, the mountains rise three to six thousand feet above the valley, which itself is four thousand feet above the sea. These yellowish granite walls, like Tu-tocli a-nu-lah, or El Capitan, as it is oftener called, straight up and down, smooth, seamless, and verdureless; or surmounted, like another, by a beautifully rounded dome, greater and vaster than dome of capitol or palace, or shooting up into an assimilation to cathedral towers, after which others are named, or mounting one above another, and rolling away in close prox imity to each other, like the Three Brothel's;' or cut down, sharp and sliee’r in the middle, as if with a mighty cleaver wielded by a power no less than infinite, like the Half borne: or towering above all others, like the Sentinel Bock; or slightly sloping from the perpendicu | lar, ..lint massive and gigantic as the rest—such ian aggregation of remarkable mountains till the soul with the bewildered grandeur,'as well as tlie solemn sublimity or the scene. It, seems as If, in the creation, this wonderful furrow was ploughed out of the mountain range, and the rock thrown away, that a valley, picturesque in its varied beauty, and smiling as you might imagine the happy valley of Basselas, Shut out from all the din andstrife. and unrest of the world, might here be found. And when, after gazing an hour in silence, you leave this view •to wind around the frail by wdiich a descent to this almost inaccessible valley is found, and at last ride. along the river’s bank, galloping over the luxuriant grass-sward, for days enjoying and drinking ill its peerless and commanding scenery, new beauties feast your eyes at every hour. Here Is the Bridal Veil, a ereek7o feet wide, falling over its rocky wall UOO feet at a single leap, dissipated tlrst into lace like strands and then into fleecy mist by the das cent. Here is the Yosemite Ball, the highest in the world, at two leaps falling twenty-six hundred feet, fifteen times higher than Niagara, the eye tiring as it looks almost straight upward to where 1 it conies rushing over the precipice in view. Here are the falls by which the Merced Biver tumbles from the higher ground behind these mighty walls of the valley into the valley itself—at one fall, the Nevada, leaping from the top of a perpen dicular cliff full 700 feet, and then, after dash ing on rapidly over a smooth and rounded granite befl, into which the water lias literally worn its channel, leaping downward again at the Vernall Ball 350 leet, with that Tare phe nomenon, a circular rainbow, at its base. Though no mule or horse can reach these most fascinating of all the wonders of the valley, and the trail is rugged and difficult, and wea risome on foot, and ladders nearly 3(H) feet high are needed to scald the perpendicular walls of rock over which, by your side, the river thunders at its second plunge,' fatigue and danger are forgotten in these awe • inspiring and startlingly sublime works of the Creator around you. The long journey from the East is more than repaid By such combi nations of austere and exquisite scenery as I looked on with mingled admiration ami ,sur prise in the Yalley of the Yosemite POLITICAL. The Nomination of Packer. ■ [ from the Nation of July 22<1. ] I Sinco the Pennsylvania D efnocrats havehcld I their convention, the prospects of tho Repub iicans in that State are a little brighter than 1 before, for neither the name of Mr. Packer nor the substance of the platform is ominous , of Democratic success. It is said, however, 1 that Mr. Packer is to give a million of dollars for the necessary expenses of the canvass. | Hancock’s name -was received 'with great en j tliusiasm, but a friend of his discovered a lct i ter in his pocket—elated May 21—in which the j General peremptorily declined a nomination. : It was a friend used to conventions, we may suppose, and one who would tefrain from 1 reading letters until it seemed advisable to do so. Hancock was probably sacrificed to the ] money of the two leading candidates, and it is not necessary to accuse Mr. Hottman and Mr. Chaso of “ killing him off” in view of the possibilities of 1872, nor likely that they could have done so had they tried their utmost. Tho platform is tho old structure which has so often been erected—much as the same gallows is put up for successive hang ings; and the dissatisfaction with Geary and the last Legislature, or the disgust of the Mc- Clures with Grant, or the apathy of the Re publicans—or all these things—must be great I indeed if tho Pennsylvanians can be made to I seem to accept it. It affirms that the ratifica tion of the Fifteenth Amendment must be re pealed; that the whole Reconstruction policy is tyrannical: and that the negro should not have the ballot. It has, to bo sure, one good thing in it—our soldiers should not be forgot ten, Tt says; but the Republicans say that, and moreover avow their intention of protecting tho pensions of the widows of the survivors Of the war of 1812 and of the Revolutionary war. Tho adjurations to “harmony” were fre quent and earnest enough to make it doubtful if tho platform and candidate are not both dis tasteful to a largo number of the delegates. —Rev. S. S. Burton, a Methodist minister of Chautauqua county, Is, Y., boa just been tried by his Church on the serious charge of having said that he believed many Universalists would be saved, and acquitted, the charge not having been proved against him. “Do you believe everybody will be saved ?” asked an anxious old lady of one whose orthodoxy was suspected.—“Wellr itris '-possible that a few will be lost.” “Ah, well,” said the old lady, drawing a sigh of relief, “ that’s better than nothing.” —The President’s favorite trotting mare “Addie,” valued at $3,000, died yesterday morning, it, is supposed from the effects of some poisonous substance eaten by her in the pasturq. She was a ,blooded Morgan mare, nine years old, and could make her mile in about 2.30. The President has owned her about four years, and prized her more than any other horse in the stable.,. For some time past his horses bnvo been pasturing in the White Lot, where it is thought the mare ato some poisonous article, as alio, was taken sick about 5 o’clock in the morning and died nbout.U. i . ' ; —— ; ' F. I. FETHERKTOS. PdMuir. PRICE THREE CENTS^ FACTS AKB i'AHCIEg. • Krishna and . nla Three JBandmaldenC ny paui, n. hayne. And where he sat beneath tho mystie stars; ’ Nigh the twin founts of Immortality,. That ieed: fair channels -of ■ the ■ Stream l of Trance, To Krishna once, his three handmaidens came. Aslnnga boon;' “O ldng! O lord!” they said, Test thou thy servants’ wisdom: long in • dreams, Bom of the waters of thy Stream of Trance. Have wes thy fond handmaidens, wandered •!rCOj v - .'r.-v. •• ■’ '■ ‘ 1-1.-I. Vv • , s j ’v ■''•‘'f'*' “ ■ And lapped in airiest wreaths of fantasy;', • is or would we, viewless, bearing each soitto * girt ■ . From thee; our father, seek the world ofmau. The world of man and pain, which whoso • leaves •. ■ • • Better or brighter, for thy gift bestowed Most worthily, shall claim thy just reward. The Crown of Wisdom!” Krishna heard, and gave To each one tiny drop of diamond dew Drawn from the founts that feed the Stream of Trance, , Wherewith on waftiige of miraculous winds, Breathing full South, they sought the world of man, The world of man and pain that shrank in drought, Palsied and withered, like an old man’s face Death-smitten,! ’And the first handmaiden saw > A monarch’s fountain sparkling in the waste, Clowing and fresh, though all the land waa ■ Sick, Gasping for rain, and famished thousands died: “O brave,’’ she said, “O beautiful bright waves! - - Like calls to like;” and so her dew-drop glanced. And glittered downward as a fairy star Leased from a tress of Cassiopeia’s hair, Down the glorious fountain of the king. Over the passionless bopom of the sea, The Indian Sea, cerulean, crystal-clear, And calm, the second handmaid, hoveriner. : viewed— ■ • P Par through,, the tangled sea-weed and cool tides Pulsing ’twixt coral-branches—the wide lips 1 Oi purpling shells that yearned to clasp a . pearl: So where the oyster, blindly reared, awaits Its priceless soul— she lets the dew-drop fall, Thenceforth to grow a jewel fit for courts, And shine on swan-like necks of haughty queens! But. Krishna’s third liandmaiden scarce had ■ felt •' . The fume from parched plains that made the ■■ -air ■ ■ ;• ■ As one vast caldron of invisible fire, Then casting downward pitiful eyes, she saw, Crouched in the bnteen cere of tliat red heat, A tiny bird—apoor, weak, .suffering thing , (Its bright eyes glazed,its limbs convulsed and prone), Dying of thirst in torture: “Ah, kimlLord— . Krishna—his handmaid murmured, I‘speed thy gift > ” . Best yielded ’ here, to soothe, perchance to '■save,-:'- -s, v The . lowliest mortal creature .cursed with pain!” Gently she shook the dew-drop from her palm ' Into the silent throat that thirst had sealed Koon silent, sealed no more—for,lo! the bird Fluttered, arose, was strengthened; and through calms Of happy; ether, echoing fair and far, Pang the charmed music of the nightingale. And so, where crowned beneath the mvstic stars, v, ■ , Nigh the twin founts of Immortality, Krishna, the father, saw what ruth was hem. And, smiling to.his wise handmaiden’s rule, Gave the great storm-clouds, and the mists of heaven, ' >’ Till at her voice the mighty vapors rolled Up irom the mountain-gorges, and the seas, And eloud-land darkened, and-the grateful rain, ■.■■■■:; . , ■ ■ Burdened with benedictions,- rushed and foamed Down the hot channels, and the foliaged hills,. And the frayed lips, and: languid fimhs of flowers; And all the woodlands laughed, and earth was glad!. / '■ i . —Appletom' Journal. , • —A legal conveyance—The police van. —The Last Man—A shoemaker. —The sham-rocks most worn in hats now-a tlays are bricks. -Twenty-three bridges in Peoria county. Xliinois, were carried off by tho recent rains. —Nearly twelve hundred people are already on the Camp Ground at Martha’s Vineyard. —G-B. George, Esq., a prominent citizen of Haverhill, Mass., has been missing since last Wednesday. . —Lady Agnes Graham, of Scotland, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Montrose, is claimed as a recent convert to Catholicism. 1 —Vice President Colfax writes that he shall start for the Pacific coast-early in August, and return in November. —Brigham Young has recently, married again. His new bride is Miss Eallansbee, of Boston. —Vallandigham says that the honest men of his party in Ohio are obliged to take hack ' seats. That’s why Vallandigham is so promi nent. —A Chicago husband seeks divorce because his wife hgs a habit of. beating him with broomsticks, cracking his head with iron bars, throwing tumblers at him, scratching him and kicking him out of bed, —Alonzo Clark, owher of the Clark farm, at Shambiug, Pa., had his pocket pioked on Saturday evening last of SoO.OOO, at the depot., at Corry, 840,000 in certificates of deposit and the balance in promissory notes. He likewise ; bad a very large sum in greenbacks, said to be : ' over in a belt around his body, which by its location was saved. —A little boy in Danbury, Conn., was re cently engaged in throwing stones at an empty tin can, when suddenly it now into the airwith a loud report, and the little boy lost no time in getting out of the neighborhood. It had con tainedglycerine, and the last stone had struck , a portion of that dangerous stuff adhering to tho can. —ln a bill issued by the Northern Centra) Bailroad Company, we find the following: “from Elmira the passenger passesalongtno margin of Seneca Lak e, through the celebrated ' Oeiimee Valley to Bochester.” We think some of our railroad men could make a profitable < investment in a geography or atlas, or a little study of physical geography. —A young man named Powell, while mock- . inga deaf and dumb person :cara, bb- tween Bellvillo and Galloway’s, Tennessee, ' a few days ago, was suddenly struck totally deaf and dumb. He returned to Bellville, and wrote as follows: “God has seiit this awful punishment upon me to teach man never to mock at the infirmities of his fellow man.” , > —The total length of railway'in the world is • put down at 109,177 miles, and it cost 510.829,- 751,082. The United States have 42,217 miles. ; • The next largest national supply is Great ■ • Britain, with 14,247; Branch has 9,034 miles; Eussln, 4,317; Prussia, 5,926; Italy, 4,109; Aus- ' ’ 'trio, 4,429; South Germany, 2,681; Spain; 3,429: < Belgium, 1,703, and the North German States 1,311. British India has 4,092, and the Canadian Dominion 1,348. No other lands exceed I,O<W: • miles <,»**■ i ll - 1 1 )<■' ‘ ‘ , . .‘i i -i '
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers