down with a force that would have depressed and ruined him for ever. For some months after leaving Liskeare, he remained with his father. He then went to the neighbourhood of Plymouth, where for two years or more he pursued his trade with increasing profit to himself, but with very little improvement to his moral character. During this period, he came very near losing his life in a smuggling adventure. But it is said, on the authority of one familiar with him at the time, there was a surprising mental development, especially in his readiness at repartee, and his powers of reasoning; so striking, indeed, that few were bold enough to provoke the one, or engage the other. It made him prominent amongst his craftsmen, and gave great importance to his opinions. It was not from books, for he was still careless of them, but the friction of intercourse with men, the collision of mind with mind, that elicited thought, and awakened a faculty hitherto slumbering in the repose of a profound ignorance. We shall see how, following this thread, he was led out of the labyrinth of his vicious propensities, into a straight path of intelligent rectitude and virtuous activity. CHAPTER III. "The generous pride That glows in him who on himself relies, Entering the lists of life." He was especially interested in the narratives of | adventures connected with the American war. Paul Jones, the Serapis and the Bon Homme Richard excited his mind with a profound attraction. They mingled with his thoughts by day, and his dreams by night. He longed to be in a pirate-ship, a thought natural to his perverted tastes and vicious habits. There was also in the house an odd volume of the history of England during the Commonwealth. These were read again and again, until, having nothing else to read, they palled on his taste, and he turned aside to low and corrupting pleasures. It is true, there was a Bible in the house, but the command to read it on the Sabbath, apart from a natural distaste for such reading, was an effectual bar to obedience. With books, his life might have taken an earlier turn to rectitude. But he had them not; and in the absence of means to gratify the disposition to read, he almost lost the ability. Still his reading gave direction to thought and supplied the material. It was under the influence of thoughts thus born in his mind that he abridged his apprenticeship by flight, and steered his course to Plymouth. When he set out on this adventure, he had but sixteen pence halfpenny, and went by his home to increase his store. His father was absent, and his mother, at a loss what to do, declined, but persuaded him to stay all night, hoping his father might get home, and detain him, or transfer the matter of supplying his wants from herself. The next morning, to the dismay of his family, he was gone. But the "providence that shapes the ends" of life hindered the consummation of his plans, checked his downward course, and turned his feet to the paths of virtue, usefulness, and honour. His first night from home was spent in a hayfield. The next morning, a ferry and his break-cuted the advantage under every conceivable fast took two pence of his stock of cash, and filled him with dismay at its probable early consumption. Passing through Liskeare, with a view of replenishing his purse, he sought employment at his trade, but to provide the necessary implements nearly exhausted his means. He was soon reduced to an extremity of hunger truly pitiable. His fellow-workmen, seeing he did not quit his work for dinner, as they were accustomed to do, made some inquiry as to where he dined, when one of them facetiously replied, "At the sign of the Mouth, to be sure." He endured the jibe, but to appease the urgent cravings of hunger, drew his apron-strings, and compressed his stomach into a smaller circle, and stitched away with the best heart he could summon to his aid. The next day, his employer, discovering he was a runaway apprentice, dismissed him from the shop, advising him to return to his master. Ere he left the door, his elder brother came in pursuit of him. His father, having accidentally heard where he was, sent for him. The message came at the time of need. He only consented to return, on condition that he was not to be sent back to St. Blazey. His indentures were subsequently cancelled. Mr. Drew ever after considered this as the turning-point of his destiny. In later periods of life, when fame, fortune, and family were his, he was accustomed to refer to these circumstances as occasions when his future destiny trembled on the beam, and a hair might have turned it In January, 1785, he removed to St. Austell, and became foreman, in his branch of trade, to a young man who carried on the business of a shoemaker, a saddler, and a bookbinder. It was here, and under these circumstances, that he renewed his acquaintance with books, and prose discouragement. Speaking of his ignorance at this time, in after life, he said, "I was scarcely able to read, and almost totally unable to write. Literature was a term to which I could annex no idea. Grammar I knew not the meaning of I was expert at follies, acute in trifles, and ingenious about nonsense.' His writing was compared to the "traces of a spider dipped in ink, and set to crawl on paper." On this foundation he began to build; and the finished superstructure was of magnificent proportions—glorious in its adornments, and durable as time. The shop of his master was frequented by a better class of persons than he had ever been brought into contact with; and the topics of conversation were above the standard of his infor mation. He listened to their discussions with a deep and painful consciousness of his own defects. Sometimes he was appealed to to decide a doubtful point. The appeal flattered, but humbled him. The desire to know was born in his mind; and he set himself to seek knowledge. He examined dictionaries, added words to his small stock, and treasured them with a miser's care. Books came to be bound; he read their titles, and gleaned ideas from their pages; and truth began to dawn on the darkness of his mind. "The more I read," he says, "the more I felt my own ignorance; and the more I felt my ignorance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount it. Every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing or other." He could command but very little leisure. Lank poverty cident with these things, the deathless work of that "Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale Sweet fiction and plain truth alike prevail:" and clamorous want cried out against every pause | world-known and honoured Adam Clarke. Coinin his employment. "From early chime to vesper bell," and deep in the night, he was doomed to hammer heel-taps, and stitch on soles, while his own soul was alive with the desire to know. "Where there's a will, there's a way." He had "the will," and he found "the way." He was obliged to eat; and he would make it a meal for soul and body. He took a book to his repast; and crammed ideas in his mind, and food into his stomach at the same time. Digestion in both departments was not incompatible with stitching. In this way, five or six pages were mastered at a meal. At an early stage of his new intellectual life, a gentleman brought Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding to be bound. It was a new conception to his mind. He had never heard of it before. He pored over its pages with a fascination as profound as a philosopher's joy at a new discovery, a sensation as new and thrilling as a child's over his first toy-book, and drank in his reasonings with a zest as transporting and heartfelt. It was as when a new star blazes in the telescope of the astronomer. But its magnitude was greater than a star. It was a new world with its suns and systems, that filled his soul from horizon to zenith with brilliant images and gorgeous hopes. The continent of mind was spread out before him. What would he not have given to own that world of thought! "I would willingly have laboured a fortnight to have the books. Could his desire be more forcibly expressed? Again, he says, "I had then no conception that they could be obtained for money." How priceless did he consider them. But they were soon carried away; and his mind felt as if the sun had gone down in the early morning. Yet they left a luminous track behind them, rich and glorious as a western sky when the sun has gone to waken the song of gladness in other climes. Years passed before he saw the Essay again, yet the impression was never lost from his mind. "This book set all my soul to think, to feel, and to reason, from all without, and from all within. It gave the first metaphysical turn to my mind; and I cultivated the little knowledge of writing which I had acquired, in order to put down my reflections. It awakened me from my stupor, and induced me to form a resolution to abandon the grovelling views which I had been accustomed to entertain." Heretofore no specific object, beside the general one of improvement, had guided his efforts. Locke awakened his inquiries, and concentrated his mental energies. Its influence was powerful upon every period, and on every undertaking of his subsequent career. It was about the same time that another and a sublimer change was wrought in the moral nature of Mr. Drew. A mother's hand had scattered the seeds of life over the soil of his young heart. In childhood and youth it seemed to have fallen on stony ground. It had brought forth no fruit unto righteousness. But now the seed had germinated long after the hand of the sower was still in the grave. The apparent instrumental cause of his religious quickening was the remarkably triumphant death of his brother. This awakened reflection on the folly and wickedness of his own life, and the aimless nature of his pursuits. These impressions were strengthened under the ministry of the then youthful, but now The Pilgrim's Progress gave shape to his thoughts, and direction to his life. The infusion of the religious element into his nature was a most important epoch in his existence. It gave tone to his feelings, sprightliness and vigour to his mind, purity and decision to his character. It brought him into a new atmosphere of being, placed new and vaster objects before his mind, and stirred the profound depths of his intellectual and moral nature with higher aspirations, and a more ennobling ambition. Old things were passed away; and a new life, stretching outward and upward, blending usefulness and happiness, the rewards of virtue with the conquests of duty, was mapped on his soul in lines of fire traced by the finger of God. Henceforth, in the contemplation of his life, we perceive not only a new direction, but a fuller development of mental energy; and trace the application of his powers to subjects, respect ing truth, duty, and God, that religious conviction alone could suggest or support. He is no longer ambitious to tread the deck of a pirate-ship. The past is forgotten; or exists as a mournful remembrance. A purer principle is implanted in his It is not to be supposed that his difficulties either in getting bread or books had ceased. They were still at the flood tide. He was still "inured to poverty and toil." He had entered into business for himself, but on a scale exceedingly limited. Dr. Franklin's "Way to Wealth," of which he possessed a copy, was his chart. "Poor Richard" gave pithy but very excellent advice to poor Sammy Drew. Eighteen hours out of the twenty-four, "the sound of his hammer" might be heard. He had borrowed five pounds to begin business; and it was only at the expiration of a year that he was able to return it But his business, and his own character for industry and integrity, were established. He was in the way to wealth. His desire, however, was not inordinate. He only wished to be able to spare some moments from constant toil to the purposes of reading and study. In a few years, this object was accomplished, and he found himself at liberty to pursue his long-cherished scheme of mental improvement. But the best-concerted schemes sometimes fail. His were nearly wrecked by politics. He was saved by an incident as singular as it was effectual. During the American war everybody was a politician. his boyhood he took sides with the Colonies. He had not yet changed his opinions; and there was danger of political discussion engaging his attention to the exclusion or detriment of his more important mental occupations. From this hazard he was preserved by an incident which may be given in his own language. In A friend one day remarked to him, "Mr. Drew, more than once I have heard you quote that expression,— "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.' "You quote it as being true; but how are we to understand it?" "I can give you," he replied, "an instance from my own experience. When I began business, I was a great politician. My master's shop had been a chosen place for political discussion, and there, I suppose, I acquired my fondness for such debates. For the first year, I had too much to do and to think about to indulge my propensity for politics; but after getting a little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these matters again. Very soon I entered as deeply into newspaper argument as if my livelihood depended on it. My shop was often filled with loungers, who came to canvass public measures; and now and then I went into my neighbours' houses on a similar errand. This encroached on my time; and I found it necessary sometimes to work till midnight, to make up for the hours I had lost. One night, after my shutters were closed, and I was busily employed, some little urchin who was passing the street put his mouth to the keyhole of the door, and, with a shrill pipe, cried out, Shoemaker! shoemaker! work by night and run about by day!'" "And did you," inquired his friend, "pursue the boy with your stirrup, to chastise him for his insolence ?" “No, no. Had a pistol been fired off at my ear, I could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work, saying to myself, True, true! but you shall never have that to say of me again.' I have never forgotten it; and while I recollect anything, I never shall. To me it was the voice of God; and it has been a word in season throughout my life. I learned from it not to leave till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle when I ought to be working. From that time I turned over a new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The bliss of ignorance on political topics I often experienced in after life;-the folly of being wise my early history shows." It is not often that a boyish freak confers such a blessing upon man and the world. It was sport to him, but a life's blessing to his intended victim. It checked and cured a bad habit, and gave a fresh impetus to the struggle to ascend the hill of knowledge. Thanks, a thousand times, for that piece of midnight mischief! CHAPTER IV. "Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!" This is the utterance extorted by the pangs of intellectual labour. How exquisitely must it have been felt at each stage of his course, every step of his ascent, by Mr. Drew. Between the point on which he stood, and the foot of the hill, what vast fields stretched their broad and interminable lengths before him. Each was fresh with flowers, alluring to taste, attractive to the eye, fair to the vision, and flattering to hope the tree of knowledge" to the mother of the human race. But when he essayed to enter, as "Chill penury repressed his noble rage, And froze the genial current of his soul." Industry and economy had "broken the neck of his difficulties," and left him with some degree of leisure to pursue his ruling passion,-the acqui| sition of knowledge. Possessed of the opportunity of improvement, he increased his efforts, and enlarged his plans of acquiring information. Fugitive thoughts-those first and best teachings of truth-were preserved with an avaricious care. Even while at work, he kept writing materials at his side, to note the processes of his mind, and fix, beyond the possibility of forgetfulness, the outlines of arguments on such subjects as engaged his attention for the time. But he had not yet fixed upon any plan of study, any one subject or science that was to engross his efforts or absorb his powers. His one desire was to know, to grow in wisdom and knowledge. He was on the shore. The broad sea of truth was before him. He wished to sound its depths, not to skim its crested waves. We shall see what determined his choice. "The sciences lay before me. I discovered charms in each, but was unable to embrace them all, and hesitated in making a selection. I had learned that 'One science only will one genius fit, So vast is art, so narrow human wit.' At first I felt such an attachment to astronomy, that I resolved to confine my views to the study of that science; but I soon found myself too defective in arithmetic to make any proficiency. Modern history was my next object; but I quickly discovered that more books and time were necessary than I could either purchase or spare, and on this account history was abandoned. In the region of metaphysics I saw neither of the above impediments. It nevertheless appeared to be a thorny path, but I determined to enter, and accordingly began to tread it." Poverty selected the field on which he was to win his triumphs, and carve his way to usefulness and honour. It was indeed a thorny path, hedged with difficulties. He entered it with a giant's energy. The immaterial world, with its empires of being, its unfathomable entities, uncaused causes, endless organizations, mysterious laws, and chainless powers, was the world through which he was to roam with the freedom of a freeborn citizen. The map of that world already existed in outline in his own intellectual and moral being. His own being was the door of entrance to that world of spiritual existences of which "Millions-walk the earth unseen In such a study the heaviest draft would be on his own mental organism. Reading was the smallest part of its labour. Reflection-deep, earnest, protracted reflection,-in which the soul turned inward upon itself, surveyed, as in a mirror, the unseen world of life, activity, and immortality, was the first and ceaseless demand of the subject. The difficulties of his start in the pursuit of knowledge, and the energy that triumphed over them, had eminently qualified Reading him for the toils of his new career. filled his leisure: reflection occupied him while at work. He possessed, in a remarkable degree, the power of abstracting his mind from surrounding objects, and fixing it, like a leech, upon He whatever subject occupied his attention. was a defence of his church against the attack of one in whom the qualities of author, magistrate, and clergyman were blended. His defence was as successful in refuting the assault, as it was, in the mildness and manliness of its spirit, in converting the assailant into a personal friend. In 1802, Mr. Drew issued a larger work, a volume alone sufficient to stamp his name with immortality. It was on the "Immortality and Immateriality of the Human Soul." It is a masterpiece of profound thinking, acute reasoning, and logical accuracy. The English language boasts no superior work on the subject. It made a strong impression on the public mind, and attracted a large number of learned men to the obscure, but profound, metaphysician of St. Austell. The history of the volume furnishes an interesting page in the life of authorship. When finished, it was offered to a Cornish publisher for the sum of ten pounds. But he could not risk such an amount on the work of one "unknown to fame." It was then published by subscription, and the edition was exhausted long before the demand for it was supplied. Many years after this, Dr. Clarke said Mr. Drew was a child in the remark. Afraid of the risk of a second edition, he sold the copyright to a British bookseller for twenty pounds, and thirty copies of the work. Before the expiration of the copyright, it had passed through four editions in England, two in America; and had been translated and published in France. The author survived the twentyeight years of the copyright, and it became his property. He then gave it a final revision, and sold it for two hundred and fifty pounds. A fact that proves its sterling value. The first production of Mr. Drew's pen was a defence of Christianity, in answer to what a celebrated Irish barrister, with singular felicity and force of language has called "that most abominable abomination of all abominable abomi-money matters." The occasion before us justifies nations, Tom Paine's Age of Reason." It was elicited by circumstances no less attractive in their nature than they proved to be beneficial to the spiritual interests of one of the parties. Amongst the friends drawn to Mr. Drew by his literary pursuits and the attractions of his expanding intellect, was a young gentleman, a surgeon, schooled in the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Gibbon, and Hume. Confirmed in infidelity himself, he sought to shake the religious convictions of the pious and strong-minded, but humble shoemaker. They had frequently discussed abstruse questions of ethics; especially the nature of evidence, and the primary source of moral principles. When Paine's Age of Reason appeared he procured it, and fortified himself with its objections against Revelation; and, assuming a bolder tone, commenced an undisguised attack on the Bible. Finding his own arguments ineffectual, he proffered the loan of the book, stipulating that he should read it attentively, and give his opinions with candour after a careful inspection. During its perusal the various points of its attack on Christianity were brought under discussion. Mr. Drew made notes of these conversations. Ere they closed, the surgeon began to waver in his confidence in the Age of Reason; and the ultimate result was that he transferred his doubts from the Bible to Paine, and died an humble believer in the truth of Christianity, and in cheerful hope of the glory, honour, and immortality, it brings to light. The notes of Mr. Drew were subsequently remodelled and offered to the public. Its appearance produced a powerful impression in behalf of religion, then most virulently assailed by the combined forces of French Atheism and English Deism. It placed its author upon commanding ground as a profound thinker and a skilful debater; and attracted to him a larger class of more distinguished and powerful friends. This firstborn of his brain was published in 1799. It was followed in rapid succession by several other pamphlets; one a poem of six hundred lines, rich in thought, but too local in subject, and less fanciful than popular taste in "the art of poetry" required; the other His Essay on the Soul was followed, in the course of a few years, by another work, not less abstruse, and certainly not less important to the future destiny of the human race: The Identity and General Resurrection of the Human Body." His former work had surprised the critics of the day. This confounded them. They knew not what to think of the man; and they were afraid to adventure in a review, upon the vast and profound ocean of metaphysics, over which he sailed with the freedom of a rover, bearing a flag that held out a challenge to the world. The editers of several Reviews, as did also the publisher, courted a criticism of the work. But they could find no one able and willing to attempt it. At length one of them ventured to ask the author for a criticism on his own work, as the only person competent to do it justice. The request stirred his indignation. "Such things," was his reply, "may be among the tricks of trade; but I will never soil my fingers with them." But it went not without a notice. It was reviewed in two weeks. But the verdict of the public is recorded in the fact of the rapid sale of nearly | fifteen hundred copies. The improvement of Mr. Drew's circumstances has been spoken of. He had not grown rich. The gain of a little time for mental pursuits, was all the wealth his literary labours had secured. His publications gave him fame as an author, and attracted friends ardent and anxious to assist him, but they contributed very little to his release from the daily avocations of his shop. He was still poor; and, to gain daily bread for himself and his family, he was compelled to "stick to his last.” Even at this period of his life, he concluded a letter to a distinguished antiquarian of London, with the remark: "I am now writing on a piece of leather, and have no time to copy or correct." Yet, in reading his pages, while the mind is stretched to its utmost tension to compass the depth and elevation of his thoughts, it is almost impossible to realize that they were written on a piece of leather in the midst of his workmen, or in the chimney corner, with a bellows on his knee, and with one foot rocking a brawling child to sleep. It is, nevertheless, a reality; and adds new confirmation to the hackneyed remark that "truth is stranger than fiction." As late as 1809, Professor Kidd, of Aberdeen, wrote to him as follows: "When I read your address, I admired your mind, and felt for your family; and from that moment began to revolve how I might profit merit emerging from hardships. I have at length conceived a way which will, in all likelihood, put you and your dear infants in independence." The plan of the Professor was to induce Mr. Drew to enter the lists for a prize of twelve hundred pounds for an essay on "The Being and Attributes of God." He entered, but did not win, much to the sorrow of his kind-hearted adviser. But the work, in two volumes, was subsequently published, and augmented the fame of "The Metaphysical Shoemaker." By the agency of his friend, Dr. Clarke, he was engaged to write for several Reviews, "receiving guineas for every printed sheet." He also commenced lecturing to classes on grammar, history, geography, and astronomy. Several years were spent in these employments. They paved his way, and prepared him to enter a larger field of labour, on a more elevated platform of life. In 1819 he was invited to Liverpool, to take the management of the Imperial Magazine, published by the Caxtons. He accepted it, and parted with his awl and ends. This was a new enterprise, both to the editor and the proprietor. But it succeeded to admiration. His own reputation attracted seven thousand patrons at the start. Whatever may have been the tastes of Mr. Drew as to dress, he had never been in circumstances that allowed of much attention to his personal appearance. The family of Dr. Clarke, who now resided near Liverpool, and who were warmly attached to him, set themselves to reform his costume, and polish his manners. An epigram of the Doctor's comprises a full-length likeness of the figure he presented. "Long was the man, and long was his hair, And long was the coat which this long man did wear." He was passive under the management of his young friends; and they did not pause until a manifest change in the outside man was effected. When he next visited St. Austell, he was congratulated upon his juvenile appearance. "These girls of the Doctor's," he said, " and their acquaintances, have thus metamorphosed me." His residence at Liverpool was abridged by the burning of the Caxton establishment. The proprietors resolved to transfer their business to London; and they could not leave their able and popular editor behind them. He accordingly repaired to the metropolis. Here all the works issued from the Caxton press passed under his supervision. He augmented his own fame, and multiplied the number of his learned friends. Of his labours he says: "Besides the magazine, I have, at this time, six different works in hand, either as author, compiler, or corrector. 'Tis plain, therefore, I do not want work; and while I have strength and health, I have no desire to lead a life of idleness; yet I am sometimes oppressed with unremitting exertion, and occasionally sigh for leisure which I cannot command." But leisure came not till the weary wheels of life stood still in 1833. A Chinese proverb says, "Time and patience will change a mulberry leaf into a silk dress." They have wrought greater wonders than this in the intellectual and moral world. As illustrative of their power in any pursuit of life, how attractive and impressive are the incidents in the history of the poor Shoemaker of St. Austell. Through their agency, vice, ignorance, and poverty were transmuted into virtue, knowledge, and independence;-a youth of idleness was followed by a manhood of industrious diligence, and an age dignified by success in the noblest aspirations that can swell the human breast. To the student, the lover of knowledge, the aspirant for literary distinction and usefulness, such histories have a voice whose utterance is a melody of encouragement. Drew's life is a beacon blazing on the coast of time; himself a star of the first magnitude, brilliant in the firmament of truth, serene in its orbit, endless in the sweep of its influence. LU LU. A CIRCASSIAN SONG. BY R. H. STODDARD. THE shining cloud that broods above the hill The beams of evening slant adown the sky, Lu Lu is soft and gentle as the dove; I saw Lu Lu at daybreak with her fawn: |