party was wounded by one of the royal guards, and rode till within a similar distance of the next and made a prisoner. station. The order in which the procession marched was as follows:

On Monday, the 2nd of August, M. de Berthois, aide-de-camp to the Duke of Orleans, arrived First, an advanced guard, consisting of two with the intelligence that the duke had been no- companies of body-guards; next the carriages minated lieutenant-general of the kingdom. The of the princes; in the first the Duke of Bordeaux king gave his sanction to his nomination, and as with his governor, two under governors, and M. a further sequence, gave in his abdication, and de la Villate, his first valet-de-chambre; next that of the dauphin, in favor of the Duke of Bor-mademoiselle with her governess, and the Barondeaux. This was done on the 2nd of August, in ess de Charette; then madame with her squire, the hope that the chambers convoked for the 3rd her chevalier d'honneur, and the Countess de of the month would recognize the legitimate Bouille; in the fourth carriage the dauphiness claims of the elder branch in the person of Henry with Madame de St. Maur; the dauphin on V. This act accomplished, the king assumed horseback, with two esquires; lastly, the king in the garb of a civilian, and in the evening intro- his carriage, with the captain of guards on duty, duced the Duke of Bordeaux to the royal guard. and Marshal Duke of Ragusa on horseback. The When, however, on the 4th instant, a deputation procession was closed by another company of arrived bearing intelligence of the nomination of the body-guard. the younger branch of the Bourbons to power, in Thus, in pompous yet sorrowful procession, did the person of Louis Phillippe, Charles X. disa- the fallen dynasty pursue its way by Condé sur vowed the proceedings of the chambers, and re-Noireau, Vire, Saint Lo, Carentan, and Valognes, sumed all the insignia of royalty. There were still 14,000 men around the king, but in want of even the common necessaries of life. A project was discussed for retiring upon Tours and beyond the Loire, and rousing up the Vendeé; but the news that Tours had declared in favor of the insurrection caused this plan to fall to the ground.

nearly the whole length of ancient Normandy.As they passed through the towns nothing was to be seen but tri-color flags and cockades. In some the aspect of the people was so hostile as to excite a certain anxiety, but at length Cherbourg was attained. Here the unfortunate family had to traverse the streets amid a silent but sympathizing population. A. M. Thomas had arrived The insurgents were in the mean time advan- from Paris bringing a sum of 600,000 francs for cing upon Rambouillet, in a fashion peculiar to the support of the royal family in a foreign couninsurgents, en omnibus, en fiacres, en coucous."— try. The Great Britain and the Charles Caroll They were said to have amounted to some 5000 received the refugees and their followers. An in number, commanded by General Pajol. Mar- affecting scene took place when the body-guard shal Maison is said by M. Véron to have exag-asked to take leave of the king and princesses.gerated the army in omnibuses and cabs to 60,000 Marshal Maison, deputed by the assembly to proto the king, who upon this retreated to Mainte-tect the royal family on their departure, was also non, and that at a moment when his 14,000 men admitted to a farewell audience. He said, "That of the guard could have dispersed their doughty in accepting the mission which had been entrustassailants in a few moments. The Duke of Noail-ed to him he wished to give the king a last tesles has published an account of the temporary re-timony of devotion and gratitude." "The less sidence of the royal family at Maintenon. It said about that the better," replied the ex-monwas there that the king finally dismissed the Cent arch. No sooner were the anchors up, than the Suisses and the royal guard, and only retained admiral, Dumont d'Urville, inquired of the exthe body guard in his service, and they accom- king where he wished to be taken to? "What! panied him to Cherbourg. As Louis Phillippe am I not a free agent?" inquired the latter. "I since expressed himself, under similar circum- have orders," the admiral replied, "to take Charles stances, Charles X. is reported to have said, "IX. wherever he shall express it his wish to be do not wish for a civil war in France, or that French blood shall be shed on my account."

conducted, saving Belgium or the islands of Guernsey and Jersey." "In that case," said the king, "take me to Spithead, and after that come to anchor off Cowes."

From Maintenon the retreat was continued to Dreux, where M. Odillon Barrot, one of the commissioners of the assembly sent to watch over the proceedings of the fallen dynasty, had to harangue the people to obtain even the respect due From the Tribune, 19 Sept. to misfortune. The 5th of August they slept at Verneuil; the 6th at Laigle; the 7th at MelleTHE LATE DR. PATTERSON of Philadelphia, rault. The royal party seems to have travelled whose death we recorded last week, was one of slowly and hesitatingly. The 8th and 9th were the illustrious scientific characters who have giv spent at Argentan. The king even attended en, since the time of Franklin, such a reputation mass at the cathedral. Two field picces which to that city and the country at large. The suc had hitherto formed part of the escort, were left here, as was also a closed carriage, in which were hid Madame de Polignac and her children. They afterwards effected a safe embarcation from Valognes.

Each day the king left the town in which he had slept in a carriage, but no sooner a mile or two without the walls than he got on horseback,

cessor of Franklin, Du Ponceau, and others, as the President of the American Philosophical Society, Dr. Patterson held the most eminent position among the learned world in Philadelphia; and for many years President of the Mint, his peculiar fitness for the place raised him above the ordinary proscriptions of party and the force of the rotation of official places. In private life he was

From the New Monthly Magazine. THE FAIR PROSPECT.

FROM THE DANISH. RY MRS BUSHBY.

one of the most popular of men, and his house | Institution for the instruction of the Blind. The noted for his hospitalities. The following short mere enumeration of these offices is an index to biographical notice from the Philadelphia Inquirer, the character of Dr. Patterson's mind, the extent will give a partial idea of the extent and quality of his acquirements, and the elevation, purity, and of his services to science and art. humanity of his tastes. Various as were the obDr. Patterson was born in Philadelphia in 1787 jects of his attention,.whether simple science, the -the son of Dr. Robert Patterson, a distinguished liberal arts, or benevolence, his devotion to all was Professor in the University of Pennsylvania, Di- alike earnest and laborious. His impulses were for rector of the Mint, and President of the American good alone; and the purpose which, on an inPhilosophical Society, from whom he inherited stant's reflection, engaged his sympathies, was the talents and predilections which raised him pursued for years with untiring conscientiousness. also to the same honorable places. He graduated All who have been associated with him, in the inas a physician, at the University, at an early age, stitutions we have mentioned, can bear testimony and continued his medical studies, for several to his scrupulous fulfilment of every duty, not years, in Paris and other parts of Europe. Re-only imposed but even implied by any connection. turning to this city in 1812, with the intention of The manners of Dr. Patterson were worthy of his practising his profession, he was diverted from it fine intellect and excellent heart at once digniby an immediate appointment to the Professor-fied, cheerful, and winning. His presence and purship of Natural Philosophy in the Medical De- suits were most happily consonant in illustrating partment of the University, and soon afterward to the conception of a true Christian gentleman that of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in one equally serving and adorning society. the Classical Department. At the age of twentyseven, he was also elected to the Vice-Provost's chair. During the war, at the time that the attack of the British was threatened on Baltimore, in 1813, Dr. Patterson was called, by the Committee of Safety of that city, to lay out and superintend the construction of the fortifications a duty which he so ably performed as to win a public vote of thanks! For fourteen years Dr. P. remained in the University, fulfilling the duties of his chair with eminent success. During this period he directed his attention to various kindred objects, and had the honor of being one of the founders and most active and efficient officers of the Franklin Institute the first institution of its nature in this country. His tastes, however, were not restricted to exact science, or to the arts only akin to it. In 1820 he established, with others, the Musical Fund Society—also the first of its class in the United States, and now a rich and flourishing institution. Of this, Dr. Patterson was, for many years, the President. His earliest and most earnest affections, however, were with the All his holidays were spent at the quays, or American Philosophical Society, to which he was on the sea-shore; when a ship arrived from some elected just as he attained his majority, continu- foreign land, he would gaze at it with longing ing through life one of its leading members. He eyes, and he would wish it were not speechless, was elected Vice-President and, in 1845, Presi- that it might tell him of the magnificent clear dent, as successor to Mr. Du Ponceau. He de- moonlights, on which the tropical skies and the clined the office, however, his modesty refusing dreamy ocean seemed to unite, and form one precedence of his senior, the late eminent Dr. wide and bland expanse; or of the dark stormy Chapman, who was accordingly chosen to fill the night on which the tempest, resting on its breezy vacancy. On the death of Dr. C., Dr. Patterson pinions, broods over the foaming sea. Oh! how he was again elected to the head of this most vene-envied the careless, sunburnt sailors, who looked rable of American scientific associations. In down from the gunwale, or hung apparently in 1828, he had been called from the University of frolic mood, amid the yards above!-who could Pennsylvania to that of Virginia, accepting in be so happy as they, to skim over the sea with the latter the chair of Natural Philosophy. After only a slender plank beneath their feet, with the seven years' service in that post, he was tendered, white sails outstretched like wings above their by President Jackson, the Directorship of the head! United States Mint in this city-a place which When it became late in the evening, he would he continued to hold under every subsequent saunter slowly and sorrowfully homewards to the President, until, owing to rapidly declining health, small, confined house in the suburbs of the town, he resigned during Mr. Fillmore's Administration. where his mother, who had, perhaps, just finishAmong other positions held by Dr. Patterson, in- ed her day's hard work, would meet him with dicative alike of the respect in which others held gentle reproaches for staying out so long. him, and of his own worthy aims, were those of When he had then assisted her to bring in the President of the Pennsylvania Life Annuity Com- heavy pail of water, to stretch the somewhat blackpany, and Vice-President of the Pennsylvania lened ropes in the court, and prop them up with

FROM his infancy he had loved the sea, with its restless waves; the dark blue ocean, with its white sails; the idea of a sailor's pleasant life pervaded his very dreams. During the winter months he was satisfied to go to school, and learn to read and write; but in summer, when the soft wind stole with its balmy breath through the windows of the schoolroom, he used to fancy that it brought him greetings from the adjacent sea-that it came fraught with the odor of the sun-bleached deck, of the tarry rope, of the swelling sail-and then the schoolroom became too confined for him, and his little breast heaved with a longing which he could not repress.

to be nearly ready for its approaching voyage; and the master stood upon the deck, issuing commands, and superintending everything.

long sticks, to water the flowers in the little gar--up the supple mast till it rested on the pennon den, and the pots of balsam and geranium in the at its top. The busy crew went backwards and window; and when their simple supper was fin- forwards, to and from the vessel, which appeared ished, it was his delight to place himself on a low wooden stool at his mother's feet, while she knitted, and listen to the stories she told him of his poor father, who had gone far away and had The boy ventured nearer and nearer; with never returned. Vivid were the pictures the earnest looks he watched everything on board, good woman drew from the magic-lantern of her and everything seemed to be familiar to him in memory. Now, it was of her maritime wedding some dream of the past-everything, from the -with the two waving Dannebrog flags-the nicely-painted, half-open cabin-door, to the dog numerous smartly-dressed sailors, with their short that rattled its chains whenever any of the sailjackets, white hats, and red pocket-handkerchiefs, ors passed it. The captain at length came foreach with his sweet-heart on his arm; now, of ward, and, as he leaned over the gunwale, his seruthe day when his father came home from a voy- tinizing eye fell apon the boy, who as steadily gazage, and found him-the boy-in a cradle, a weled at him. For a time they stood thus-both come gift on his arrival; now, of the dreadful silent. At last the captain said: hour when the owner of the ship sent for her, and "What do you want here, boy? she was informed in a few cold words, that her waiting for any one?" husband had died out on the wide ocean, had been wrapped in his hammock, and lowered into the deep. The stories always ended here, with the widow's tears, but the boy would sit lost in deep thought, and would follow in his imagina-per. tion the sinking hammock with his father's corpse down beneath the blue, blue waves, lower and lower, into the darkening abyss, until he became giddy from his own fancies.

Are you

"No; I am only fond of seeing ships, sir," was the boy's answer; as he took off his little white hat, and twirled it about in his hand. "To whom do you belong?" asked the skip

66

'My mother supports herself by her labor, sir," replied the boy, "and my father lies out yonder;" he pointed towards the ocean. "I also should like to go to sea; but my mother says I Sometimes his mother was not at home; then he am too little yet. Do you think, sir, I am really always fixed his gaze upon a miserable little pic-too little ?" he added, with an arch, insinuating ture which hung against the wall, and which re- smile, as he looked up into the captain's eyes. presented a brig in full sail. He would fancy Well, well, perhaps not," said the master himself standing beneath its broad canvas, and of the vessel. "Do you know anything about a waving his farewell to the land; or, he would ship?" steal into the recess of the window, and please himself by imagining that he was in the cabin of a ship, and that the white curtain which hung in the window, and was slightly agitated by the wind, was the flapping of the sails in a storm. His little head would at length droop and rest against the window-sill; whilst sleep closed his eyes, and permitted him to continue in dreams his fancied voyage.

How happy was the boy at that moment; with one bound he was at the side of the captain, and he proceeded with sparkling eyes and flushed checks to name to him all parts of the ship; there was not a sail, not a rope, not a topmast unknown to him, and the master's looks followed him with approbation and good will.

"I am bound to the Brazils," said he; "would you like to go with me? But it is a long voyage, and the weather is not always good."

The boy's answer was a cry of joy; he seized the skipper's hard hand and pressed it to his soft cheek; but suddenly his gladness was checked. My mother!" he exclaimed, sorrowfully. "We will go to her," said the captain, as he laid aside his pipe and took his hat.

One day-a bright sunshiny day-he was strolling along the edge of the harbor wall, gazing at the ships, and chatting now and then with the seafaring people. His little white hat had fallen back, and rested awry upon his curly head, as the poor boy jumped and played about, his shirt sleeves tucked up and without any jacket. How happy he was when the sailors bade him Next day there was a fresh and stiff breeze, but run an errand for them, or, what was better still, the wind was fair, and the good ship The Fair help them to move or lift anything. As he wan- Prospect, bent its way out of the harbor under dered farther and farther on, he came upon a full sail; it was going to the Brazils, far away belarge ship that was lying close to a wharf, and yond the wide, wide ocean, and many a month taking in its cargo. The boy stood long oppo- must pass before its anchor would again drop site to it, and looked attentively upon it. That amidst the waters that laved the shores of the strange, mysterious feeling in the human mind dear native land. But-"Away, into the world which arises at the sight of the place where our away!" came wafted on the joyous breeze ;—" Be death-bed is to be, or our coffin is to rest, prompt-of good cheer!" smiled the gay, bright sun;ed him to exclaim, "How quiet, how peaceful" Farewell-forget me not!" whispered the rollit is here!" Though he thought-unknowing ing waves;-and high up amidst the masts hung of the future-that his grave would be under the exulting ship-boy, while he waved his little some shady tree, yet in contemplating the scene red cap, and wept from mingled feelings of grief before him, he felt that it was cool, and fresh, and joy.

and inviting to repose. It was with a peculiar How many remained upon that shore in unand undefinable sensation that his eye wandered ruffled tranquillity! They only felt that they over the newly-tarred hull of the ship-around were obliged to be stationary, and would never which the glancing waves were lightly sporting see all the beautiful, the grand, and the wonder.

ful things that the vast world has to display. But Look at the fearless, determined countenance of among them stood the loving mother, who had the man who holds the rudder in his strong no joy on earth but him who had just left her- grasp! See how boldly, how firmly yon sailors and in deep sorrow she concealed her tearful tread upon and hang among the swaying yards countenance. "Dear mother, farewell!" he above! Oh, slip not, slip not! for ye hold life breathed upon the air; but she could hear these, and death in your hands; place cautiously the his parting words. Yet he felt as if his heart searching foot; turn the swimming eye from yonwould have burst from his breast, and flown to der raging deep. Hark! what a frightful blast her. And surely she knew this. Did she not of wind! It seems to come howling from afar, feel that there were some sad, tender, affection- then rolls with a hollow sound over the foaming ate thoughts from him who was gone, following waves. The ship trembles from stem to stern, her to her humble home, to her deserted rooms, and, as if battling with the ocean, it swings first to the empty little couch, on which she cast her- to one side, then to the other, and then it seems self in an agony of grief? Alas! how many to rise and ride triumphant over the heaving bilanxious nights would she not have to pass in that lows. In its lightness lies its only hope of safety. lonely cottage, now terrified by frightful dreams, But what is that which has fallen from the now startled from her troubled sleep, by the howl- maintopsail yard down into the sea beneath? ing and uproar of the midnight storm! The bubbling foam conceals it for a moment, but One was terrible to listen to. It was a night in it rises to the surface. From a break between spring; but the heavens were black and threaten- the dark heavy clouds the moon casts a solitary ing, so that all was darkness around. The tem-ray, mild as a compassionate smile. It is the pestuous clouds chased each other wildly through boy-the boy who loved the blue billows so the skies, and cast their gloomy masses from one much-he has fallen into their wild embrace, and part of the heavens to another; the moon they like him too well to give him up again. In shone forth every now and then for a moment, as vain do anxious faces bend over the side of the if in derision of its own impotence, and when its ship; in vain are ropes cast out; the small hands straggling beams then glanced in through the fight but a feeble battle for life; the fair curly small windows, they seemed for one second to head, over which his unseen mother's prayers gleam upon the floor, merely to vanish again. and blessings are at that moment hovering, raises The low house shook: the tiles fell from the itself once more in the pale moonshine; but the roof with a loud crash into the little court be- struggle is soon over. Some few undefined low; the doors swayed back and forwards as if thoughts flit through his soul; he fancies that he moved by invisible hands; and the wind abso-hears his mother's voice. Yes, peace be with you, lutely roared in the chimney. child! She is praying for you at your hour of The mother lay awake in her little chamber; death. And he sinks down-down-calmly be she sat up in her bed, clasped her hands, and cried in her agony of spirit, "Oh, my dear, dear child! where are you this fearful night?" Then she looked at his bed, which had so long stood empty. How willingly she would have cheated herself into the idea that all was a dream, and that it really was his fair little head she saw resting on his pillow! but it was fancy-only fancy -for no living form was there! There were none to speak one word of comfort to her; no human being near to console her; she raised her thoughts to heaven, and prayed to God to spare the life of her child in that terrific night; she prayed that she might once more be allowed to fold him in her arms, and earnestly did she further pray-alas! for a mother's heart-that if he must die, his death struggle might be brief!

neath the waves. The subsiding tempest chants his requiem, the moon sheds a farewell ray upon the spot where he sank, and the grave has closed over the sea-boy's corpse! The war of the clements is over, and the ship glides peacefully into its destined harbor.

From the New Monthly Magazine. ANECDOTES OF EARTHQUAKES.

BY AN OLD TRAVELLER.

If my own mother earth, from whence I sprung,
Rise up, with rage unnatural, to devour
Her wretched offspring, whither shall I fly?
Some say the earth

Was feverous, and did shake.

And where was the boy while these anxious prayers were ascending to heaven on his behalf? Behold! yonder on the vast wild sea, where the THERE are few sensations more startling and tempest is lashing the waves into mountains, unpleasant than that which is occasioned by even flies the slight bark with the lightning's speed! the slightest of those movements of the earth's The subordinate has become the master; the surface to which we equally give the name of wind, that but lately managed by the sailor's art earthquake, whatever may be the degree of their wafted their vessel gently along, has suddenly intensity, or the nature of their effects. Our imburst forth in its might, and in its wanton fury perfect knowledge of the causes which produce assails them from every point. The heavens are them, and of the laws of nature by which they darkened, and the sea casts up billows of foam. are regulated, increases our alarm; and as we Now the ship seems engulfed by the raging wa-have no sure warning of their approach, and are ters; now borne aloft as if it were about to career in the air. Yet on these frail planks, which seem to be but as a toy to the elements, there is a will stronger than theirs. See how every stitch of canvas disappears from the towering masts!

their helpless victims when they come, we may be thankful that they are not of more frequent occurrence. They are fearful in every way; for where they have once been destructively felt, they leave an impression as to the possibility of

their return, which, at times, comes disagreeably | rethus there was a retreat of the sea, though no across the mind, even in our moments of enjoy- inundation followed."

ment.

Inscriptions have been found in temples both at Herculaneum and Pompeii commemorating the rebuilding of these edifices after they had been thrown down by an earthquake, which happened in the reign of Nero: sixteen years before the destruction of the cities themselves by the eruption of Vesuvius. Yet there is no other account of such an event extant; and the indifference of the ancients in recording them is shown in the fact that even the appalling fate of these cities was only incidentally alluded to till Dion Cassius wrote his fabulous and exaggerat ed description, about 150 years after their destruction had taken place.

A writer, whose work was noticed last month, speaking of Lisbon, says: "Some traces of the great earthquake still remain; here and there a huge windowless, roofless and roomless mass, picturesque by moonlight, but saddening by day; fearful memento of wrath, stands to tell the tale of that terrible convulsion. Slight shocks are continually felt, and when I was in Lisbon, about five years ago, were so unusually powerful, that some fear was excited lest a recurrence of this calamity were imminent. The Portuguese have a theory, that nature takes a hundred years to produce an earthquake on a grand scale, and as that period had nearly elapsed, they were fright- We are constantly reminded, however, of the ened in proportion. At Naples one cannot but frequency of such phenomena. The route through be conscious that the city is built over "hidden | Italy, for instance, from Sienna to Rome, is fires; on one side is the ever active Vesuvius, marked throughout by great volcanic changes; and on the other the Solfatara, and an evident and it is not very difficult to believe the tradition communication exists between them. Hot springs that the whole of the Bay of Naples is formed and steaming sulphur poison the air everywhere; by one extensive crater. but at Lisbon no such signs exist; here is noth- In many instances the ingenuity of man has ing but a soil prolific beyond measure-no converted even these fearful ruins into sources of streams of lava-no hills of calcined stones, wealth. Without speaking of the well-known thrown up 1500 feet in one night (as the Monte commerce in sulphur and other articles, from NaNuovo, near Naples)-no smoking craters-no ples and Sicily, I may mention that, amongst the boiling water struggling into day. Still the be- mountains of Tuscany, the Count de Larderel lief that Lisbon will again be destroyed by a has applied a process to the preparation of borasimilar throe of nature is prevalent, and perpe-eic acid, which is described in the Jurors' Retuated year after year by the recurrence of slight shocks."

In treating of earthquakes, we cannot seck our materials in the remoter periods of history.

ports of the Great Exhibition of 1851 as amongst "the highest achievements of the useful arts." The vapor issuing from a volcanic soil is condensed; and the minute proportion of boracic acid which it contains is recovered by evaporation in a dis

vapor itself as a source of heat. The substance thus obtained greatly exceeds in quantity the old and limited supply of borax from British India, and has extended its use in improving the mannfactures of porcelain and of crystal.

It is remarkable that in the records of the Old Testament there are only, I believe, three pas-trict without fuel, by the application of volcanic sages in which they are mentioned. One of them is part of the well-known description of the appearances attending the revelation of the Almighty will to Elijah. The others refer to the one event of an earthquake in the days of Uzziah, King of Judah-not quite 800 years B.C.; and from the language in which it is alluded to, we may infer that such convulsions were then of unusual occurrence.

It is in comparatively modern times that
The old

And crazy earth has had her shaking fits
More frequent.

When they are mentioned by the classical writers
of antiquity it is generally without any detailed
notices of their phenomena, and in connection

with other incidents.

Thucydides speaks of their frequency in Greece during the Peloponnesian war, and-in one instance-describes their more remarkable effects;-chiefly the destruction of life and buildings occasioned by inundations on the coast; and he modestly suggests, that "in his own opinion the shock drives the sea back, and this suddenly coming on again with a violent rush, causes the inundation; which, without an earthquake," he thinks"would never have happened." But he mentions the more noticeable fact, that at " Pepa

46

*Hither and Thither.

In every country where organic changes so violent and extensive have occurred, there must have been earthquakes equally violent; for though it is possible that some of these phenomena have been produced by electricity alone, yet we are so often able to connect them with volcanic action that we must consider this as the most frequent, if not the only cause with which we are at present acquainted. We are reminded also by an eminent writer, to whose "Principles of Geology" I shall elsewhere refer, that in volcanic regions, though the points of eruption are but thinly scattered-constituting mere spots on the surface of those districts-yet the subterraneous movements extend simultaneously over im

mense areas.

earth so common in South America are probably Those mere tremblings of the connected with eruptions in mountain-ranges that have never yet been explored. It does not adject to assume that both volcanoes and earthvance us very far in our knowledge of the subquakes have a common origin; which often produces movements of the earth even unattended by volcanic eruption. As far as we can trace their connection, this is most probably the fact; but there may be other causes which have still to be discovered.