in his conversion adopted this view as his will be spared, no attempt withheld, to own to the full. But Jew and Pharisee as he must be, other elements must be mingled in him, which few who were Jews and Pharisees united in themselves. A Jew born in Palestine, and receiving a purely Jewish education, could have been a missionary for the most part to pure Jews only. It is plainly necessary that he be, though not a Hellenist himself, yet from youth accustomed to the use of the Hellenistic version of the Scriptures, together with the Hebrew original-nay more, from youth accustomed to the habits of thought and expression of the more cultivated Greeks no stranger to the literature and rhetorical usage of that language which had been prepared for the work which Christianity had to do. The advantage of a boyhood spent in the haunts of Greek literary culture would be great, even if he himself did not frequent the schools for instruction. A certain pride in the place of his birth would lead a youth of genius to some acquaintance at least with the Greek writers who had sprung from it, or were connected with the studies there pursued; and the first remembrances of his early days would be bound up with his taste, however brief, of the sweets of profane literature. All this would eminently fit him to address a Grecian audience; to know the peculiar stumbling-blocks which the hearers must be taught cautiously to approach and gently to step over; and skillfully to avoid incurring those charges which might exaggerate in the Greek mind the repulsiveness of himself and his message. At the same time no extraneous culture could educate a Pharisee. In the Holy City alone, and in the schools of the Jerusalem Rabbis, was the fountain-head of Judaism to be drawn from. make him odious to the local magistracies. Should he be found in Judea itself, the jealousy of the Roman procurators, ever ready to awake against turbulence and sedition, will be aroused to effect his ruin. One safeguard, and one only, humanly speaking, would obviate the danger of his career being cut short by conspiracy on the part of his enemies, or the tyranny of an unprincipled governor. If he possessed the privileges of a Roman citizen his person would be safe from punishment at the hands of the officers of Rome; and an escape would be always open to him from conspiracy or apprehended injustice in an appeal to the supreme power in the great metropolis. We have said nothing of personal characteristics. That the apostle of the world should be full of earnestness and self-forgetting zeal is too obvious to be insisted on. That a great persuader should, besides convincing men's minds, be able to win and keep their hearts-that he who wishes others to weep must weep himself -has long ago passed into an axiom. That the person so required was found that so many and unusual attributes were combined in one individual-is known to us all. GEMS OF THOUGHT. INCERITY is to speak as we think, make good what we promise, and really to be what we would seem and appear to be.Misery and ignorance are always the cause of great evils. Misery is easily excited to anger, and ignorance soon yields to perfidious counsels.-Education is the proper employment, not only of our early years, but of our whole lives.-It is not the accuThus we have arrived at the compli- mulation of wealth, but its distribution, cated, and we may conceive not often which is the test of a people's prosperity. united requirements, of pure Judaic ex--Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst, traction, with birth and early education among Hellenists and Grecians, and subsequent training in the rabbinical schools of Jerusalem. If, however, we rested here, one important advantage would be wanting. The great apostle is sure to incur the deadliest hatred of the Pharisaic party, which he has deserted to pass over to Christianity. That hatred will be unrelenting, and will pursue him wherever his message is delivered. No calumny and cold.-Time, with all its celerity, moves slowly on to him whose whole employment is to watch its flight.-Men are never so likely to settle a question rightly as when they discuss it freely.-What is not for the interest of the whole swarm, is not for the essential interest of a single bee.-Keep a low sail at the commencement of life; you may 'rise with honor, but you cannot recede without shame.— Workingman's Friend. SUNSET AT PATRAS. [The following fragment is translated from a work by M. A. Rigopoulos, a young poet and political writer of Greece, who was born in 1821, on the first day of the Greek revolution, on the borders of the sea at Patras, at the time that the flames of the burning city were mounting to the skies. When this was written (July, 1845) he had just returned to Greece, after a you so brief, or why at least do you not leave in our hearts serenity and peace? It is among these mountains of Ithaca, between the desert Echinades and Leucadia, that the sun sinks to repose. The long journey in other portions of Europe, for the completion light of this setting offers all that the soul can conceive of gentleness and melan of his education.] T the hour when every man seeks to choly. The sky is at first suffused with a A by moves with redoubled force at the thought that a few minutes will bring him rest in the bosom of his family, the hour when the sun dips below the horizon, I find myself on the sandy shore. The sea stretches out before me, and the sea knows me, because I was born in her arms, because she was the first to hear my earliest cry. Her waves, remembering their little brother, come one after another over the white shells of the shore to caress my feet, and send to my afflicted heart a gentle murmur, as if they would say to me, "How well we remember your infancy, brother! Where hast thou been so long since then? Where hast thou rested so many nights? Why this shade of sadness on thy brow, why these tears in thine eyes? Where are the roses of thy cheeks, the smile of thy lips? Why hast thou not remained young like us? Why are you not the same as when you played with us? Ah! how well we remember your infancy, brother." as the sun approaches the horizon. The sea, which is usually at that hour in repose, is of a deep blue, tinged with gold. The Ionian Isles, whose outlines are at all times strongly marked, then assume a tinge of golden blue, and stand out still more boldly from the sky, allowing us to distinguish their hills and gulfs, among which the sun descends, no longer shedding dazzling rays, no longer terrible, but calm and collected, although grander in appearance: sometimes resting on a hill-top, it seems as if it were a golden fruit from the diamond gardens of the Genii of the East, or a vast comet, whose radiant tresses have been submerged in the abyss; or from the surface of the waves to form a temple with golden arches, a St. Peter's of Nature, from which you fancy that you hear the spirit of old ocean speak of the mysteries of another world; and tiny clouds, edged with gold and purple, such as are usually hovering over these isles, float among its vaults, like cherubim bearing the decrees of heaven. Then from the bosom of the waves and of the zephyrs you hear profound and incomprehensible sounds, interrupted sighs, expiring psalmodies. You fancy that in such a scene some great action is going on. Then you place on the scene the most gentle of your dreams. There you fancy lies the land of happiness and love, the habitation of superior intelligences. You cannot resist such enchantments; your whole being is enraptured, and your My glance wanders over the waves soul, in the midst of its infinite reveries of toward the delicious isles of the Ionian love, of separation, of torments, and of Sea, and my soul flies to the mountains of hopes, suffers, now and then, a sigh to Ithaca, whose fresh breezes I inhaled when escape. Surely the last song of hapless a child, whilst wandering among the Sappho, when she committed to the waves gigantic ruins of these towers, where the her terrestrial beauties-the song which faithful Penelope awaited in tears twenty was unheard by mortal-may be read in years the wandering hero of the Trojan the scene before us. Divinity has written war. From thence my mother once it with the sea, the mountains, and the sun showed me the mountains, gilded by the-worthy monuments of such suffering setting sun, of our country, which was and of such genius! fighting for liberty; and I have yet a vivid recollection of the hot tears falling from her eyes. O, days of infancy, why are And these waves are in truth still young and fresh, as if now first issuing from the hand of the Creator; and, amid the deep sadness of my heart, I find a sweet consolation in thinking that all things do not fade. If man, if the flowers wither and die, with the breath of the wind and of grief, the sea, the mountains, and the stars preserve their first splendor, their early smile. But if seas, mountains, and stars do not fade, how much less does virtue! The last ray of the sun is now scarcely apparent on the horizon; but my heart is impelled to follow his course in my thoughts Already have many gentle eyes bidden him adieu; already have my friends told him to rise with liberty over their unfortunate country. But, alas, what chord have I touched!-one of sweet but sad recollections, for bitter is it to be separated from cherished friends!-one of grief, even to a hoping heart, for what son of Greece can refain from a sigh on beholding her sister Italy still groaning in chains? Farewell, O sun! Salute, O salute for me the beautiful, the beloved country which once afforded me hospitality. The sun has set; the twilight has also vanished. And now, while Hesperus is beginning to display her gentle light in the heavens, I enter the cemetery, but a few paces distant from the sea, where repose the remains of my beloved mother. When God closes my earthly existence, happy shall I be, if I may find a grave between the tomb of my mother and my cradle the sea, facing that sublime and melancholy spectacle of the setting sun, which has so often charmed moments of my agitated life! "He had an entire trust and confidence in God, and would often say, 'that God was able, if he thought fit, to restore him to his health again, notwithstanding his great weakness, and that his medicines seemed to give him no enhis distemper was likely to end in his death. couragement, but that according to appearances But, as to the issues of life and death, he referred it wholly to God, who knew what was best for him.' He appeared to me neither desirous of life, nor afraid of dying, but he wholly resigned his will to the will of God; and, notwithstanding the well-grounded and comfortable hopes he had of a blessed immortality, he never wished to have his pains shortened, nor the time of dissolution hastened, but was entirely resigned to what Providence should determine. I was once inquiring into some particulars of his past life, with a design of getting materials take to write it. toward the assistance of such as should underHe, apprehending what I drove at, said to me, 'Mr. Nelson, it matters not that the world should be acquainted with the particulars of my life: they will be all laid open at the day of judgment; and then it will be time enough to have them known.' "He carried himself with great decency to those that attended him: his wife never did the EUTHANASIA-LAST DAYS OF AN OLD least thing but he returned her thanks, as he JOHNN DIVINE. OHN KETTLEWELL was an English divine, of great piety, benevolence, and humility. He was the author of some devotional works, and the beloved friend of Mr. Robert Nelson. It is said that all Mr. Kettlewell's words while on his death-bed made such deep and lively impressions on Mr. Nelson's mind, that they never afterward left him. In his sickness and preparation for death, he thought that too much of his time was taken up in receiving the kind visits of his friends; and he would sometimes say, he wanted it to spend in devotion and in packing up for his removal, according to the rules and directions he himself had laid down for it, and therefore, when decently he could, he avoided them; though his good temper yet could not admit of any thing that looked harsh, and especially when it was the effect of respect and attention toward him. But of all his friends, which were many, none was ever more acceptable to him than Mr. Nelson, who thus informs us of the last hours of his departing friend : did likewise upon several occasions to his servant that was always about him, which was a great mastery in such a languishing distemper, to overcome that peevishness which too ordinarily attends it. "I never found him in a murmuring, complaining temper; but, when he was worst, he would always find out some favorable circumstances, for which he would thank God. If he had not slept, he would thank God he had lain quiet, and had not been restless: if he had coughed much, he would thank God he had refreshing sleeps between his fits of coughing. He would always make the best of what he suffered, and was thankful that it was not worse, so far from being discontented that it could, and would suffer nobody to watch with was so bad. He gave as little trouble as he him till a night or two before he died. "On Thursday morning, the 11th of April, 1695, he apprehended himself departing, and said to Mr. Bell, the minister that attended him, I am now entering upon my last labor: the Lord gave, and he is now taking away; blessed be the name of the Lord. For, I thank my God, I am going, without any distrust, to a is no life like a happy death. I have endeaplace of rest, joy, and everlasting bliss. There vored, even from my youth, to approve myself a faithful servant to my great Master: I have taken some pains in writing several books: I have seriously considered them, and am fully satisfied (looking on those about him) that you may find in them the way to heaven; the Christian duties contained therein have been my practice as well as study; and now I find the advantage of it. Therefore, be all of you careful to read them often and seriously, and live suitably thereunto, that, when you come to the condition I am now in, you may die with comfort, as you see me do. I have little pain indeed, but my pain is nothing so extraordinary as my hopes; for I have earnestly repented of all my sins, and verily believe that, through the tender mercies of my God, and merits of my blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, I shall be carried into Abraham's bosom.' "After which, he made this short prayer:'I wait, O God, for that everlasting rest, which I want at present, but shall not long. I am ready when thou, my God, callest for me, yet can stay with paitence till thou pleasest, for thy time is the best time, and thy pleasure is the best pleasure.' "His brother coming in, he told him, wherein he had given offence he forgave him heartily, and prayed for him and his: then he said, 'Brother, have I done you any wrong? Tell me; for if I have, I am ready and willing to make compensation.' Being answered, No,' he put the same question to several others present. For,' said he, 'I am now going to offer my gift upon the altar; therefore, if my brother hath aught against me, I must first be reconciled to my brother, and then offer my gift.' "The afternoon before he died, he was pleased to acknowledge my friendship toward him; but said, his wife had no reason to expect the same to her. I knew his concern for her, and gave him all the assurances of treating her as the relict of one whom I greatly esteemed and dearly loved. Some little after this he turned to me as I sat by his bed-side, and in a voice which I could hardly hear, said, Mr. Nelson, it is brave to go to a place where one can enjoy a friend, without fear of losing him; where everything is agreeable, because neither sin nor sorrow enter; where there needs no sun to shine, forasmuch as God is the light of that place, and every saint is a star, each one's bliss is felt by every blessed inhabitant, and happiness is dispensed by a blessed circulation.' "He added something more about the heavenly Jerusalem, and the heavenly state, which I lost by the lowness of his voice, and his difficulty in speaking. The same afternoon, he desired his wife to read to him out of his book of death, which she did at two several times, at which he was extraordinarily devout, and very thankful to her, according to his usual custom, for her assistance. After this, he called her to him, and said, 'Child, trust God with thyself; I trust him with thee freely; God's providence is the best protection; and there is no such way to engage his good providence as by trusting him.' Some time the same afternoon she asked him how he did: he answered her, 'Very praiseworthy well, I thank God, for one near departing.' The prayers in the last agonies were read to him, at his desire, out of that book which was made the companion of his sickness, and which was the last effort of his charity for the salvation of his brethren. He sunk all of a sudden; for, being raised to take some chocolate for his refreshment, he died in a moment in that posture." THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON III. CHAR BY VICTOR HUGO. HARLES LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, born at Paris, on the 20th of April, 1808, is the son of Hortense de Beauharnais, married, by the emperor, to Louis Napoleon, King of Holland. In 1831, taking part in the insurrections in Italy, where his eldest brother was killed, Louis Bonaparte attempted to overthrow the papacy. On the 30th October, 1836, he attempted to overthrow Louis Philippe. He had a failure at Strasbourg, and, pardoned by the king, he embarked for America, leaving his accomplices to be tried. On the 11th of November he wrote:"The king, in his clemency, has ordered me to be taken to America." He declared himself vividly affected by the king's "generosity," adding, "certainly, we are all culpable toward the government in having taken up arms against it, but the most culpable person is myself;" and he ended thus: "I was guilty against the government, therefore the state has been generous toward me." He returned from America and went to Switzerland, was appointed captain of artillery at Berne, and a citizen of Salenstein, in Thurgovia ; equally avoiding, amid the diplomatic complications occasioned by his presence, to call himself a Frenchman or to avow himself a Swiss, and contenting himself, in order to satisfy the French government, with stating in a letter, dated the 20th August, 1838, that he lived "almost alone," in the house "where his mother died," and that he was 66 finally resolved to live in quiet." On the 6th of August, 1840, he disembarked at Boulogne, parodying the disembarkation at Cannes, with the little hat on his head, carrying a gilt eagle at the head of a flag, and a live eagle in a cage, a whole bundle of proclamations, and sixty valets, cooks, grooms, disguised as French soldiers with uniforms bought at the Temple, and buttons of the 42d Regiment made in London. money among the passengers in the streets of Boulogne, sticks his hat on the point of his sword, and himself cries, "Vive l'Empereur !" fires at an officer (who had said to him, "You are a conspirator and a traitor") a pistol-shot, which hits a soldier and knocks out three of his teeth; and, finally, runs away. He is taken into custody; there are found on his person five He scatters hundred thousand francs, in gold and banknotes; the Procurer-General, Franc-Carre, says to him, openly, in the Court of Peers, "You have been tampering the soldiers, and distributing money to purchase treason." The peers sentenced him to perpetual imprisonment. He was confined at Ham. There his mind seemed to take refuge within itself and to mature. He wrote and published some books, impressed, notwithstanding a certain ignorance of France and the age, with democracy and with faith in progress: "The Extinction of Pauperism," "The Analogies of the Sugar Question," "The Ideas of Napoleon," in which he made the emperor a "Humanitarian." In a treatise entitled "Historical Fragments," he wrote thus: "I am a citizen before being a Bonaparte." Already, in 1852, in his book, "Political Reveries," he had declared himself a Republican. After five years of captivity he escaped from the prison of Ham, disguised as a mason, and took refuge in England. February arrived; he hailed the Republic; came to take his seat as a representative of the people in the Constituent Assembly; mounted the tribune on the 21st of September, 1848, and said: "All my life shall be devoted to the confirmation of the republic ;" published a manifesto, which may be summed up in two lines-liberty, progress, democracy, amnesty, abolition of the decrees of proscription and banishment; was elected president by seven million five hundred thousand votes; solemnly swore the oath to the constitution on the 20th December, 1848; and, on the 2d December, 1851, broke it. In the interval he had destroyed the Roman Republic, and had restored, in 1849, that popery which, in 1831, he had essayed to overthrow. He had besides taken, more or less, a share in the obscure affair of the lottery of the ingots of gold. A few weeks previous to the coup d'etat, this bag became transparent, and there was visible within a hand greatly resembling his. On the 2d December and the following days he, the executive power, assailed the legislative power, arrested the representatives, drove out the assembly, dissolved the council of state, expelled the high court of justice, suppressed the laws, took twenty-five million francs from the banks, gorged the army with gold, swept the streets of Paris with grape-shot, and terrorized France. Since then he has proscribed eighty-four representatives of the people; stolen from the Princes of Orleans the property of their father, Louis Philippe, to whom he owed his life; decreed despotism in fifty-eight articles, under the name of constitution; garroted the Republic; made the sword of France a gag in the mouth of liberty; pawned the railways; picked the pockets of the people; regulated the budget by ukase; transported into Africa ten thousand democrats; banished into Belgium, Spain, Piedmont, Switzerland, and England, forty thousand republicans; filled all souls with sorrow; covered all foreheads with a blush. He is Louis Bonaparte is a man of middle height, cold, pale, slow in his movements, having the air of a person not quite awake. He has published a tolerable treatise on artillery, and is thought to be acquainted with the maneuvering of cannon. a good horseman. He speaks drawlingly, with a slight German accent. His histrionic abilities were displayed at the Eglinton tournament. He has a thick moustache, covering his smile like that of the Duke d'Artois, and a dull eye like that of Charles IX. Before the 2d of December, the leaders of the Right used habitually to say of Louis Bonaparte, 'Tis an idiot. They were mistaken. Questionless that brain of his is perturbed, and has large gaps in it, but you can discern here and there in it thoughts consecutive and concatenate. 'Tis a book whence pages have been torn. Louis Napoleon has a fixed idea, but a fixed idea is not idiotcy; he knows what he wants, and he goes straight on to it through justice, through law, through reason, through honesty, through humanity, no doubt, but still, straight on. He is not an idiot. He is a man of another age than our own. He seems absurd and mad, because he is out of his place and time. Transport him in the sixteenth century to Spain, and Philip II. would recognize him; to England, and Henry VIII. would smile at him; to Italy, and Cæsar Borgia would embrace him. Or even, taking care to place him beyond the pale of European civilization, place him, in 1817, at Janina, and Ali-Tepelini would grasp him by the hand. He is of the middle ages, and of the Lower Empire. That which he does would have seemed perfectly simple and natural to Michael Ducas, to Romanus Diogenes, to Nicephorus Botoniates, to the Eunuch Narces, to the Vandal Stilico, to |