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Poetry, The Indian Spirit Gathering........
Police Fish of the Ocean....
Saxe, John G., Sketch of......
Chertsey, C. J. Fox, Cowley's House.... 201
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
La Haye Sainte.....
Stephen H. Tyng, D. D.-Portrait..
John Godfrey Saxe-Portrait.......
The Telescope on the Lawn.......................................................
Wall for the Machinery of the Great Teles-
Count d'Horn and others Murdering a Rich
IN presenting in these columns, as we frequently shall, portraits of living and familiar men, it is not our design to accompany them with many biographical details, much less with elaborate estimates of character. This would be a delicate and an invidious task, especially in comparatively youthful cases, where the public career of the subject can, as yet, admit of but a partial judgment. It is our purpose rather to give such characters a sort of visible or personal introduction to our readers, and the letter-press accompaniment of the "likeness," except in very advanced examples, must be barely sufficient for such an introduction.
In introducing Dr. M'Clintock to the goodly company of our readers, we must VOL. II, No. 1.-A
disclaim any responsibility for his presentation dress. Were it possible, we would whisper in each ear that we do not really like his appearance. The original is a great deal preferable to the similitude. The real doctor presents an aspect of much more physical importance, much better digestion, and much more bonhomie, and is altogether a more "likely" man than the engraved doctor. Albeit, our artist is not to blame-he has "followed copy" faithfully. The "copy" was an original daguerreotype, approved by the doctor's most intimate friends; and they must bear the blame, if any is alleged.
Dr. M'Clintock is a native of Philadelphia, and is, we believe, about thirty-eight years of age. He studied at the Wes
leyan University under the late President Fisk, but graduated at the University of Pennsylvania, in his native city, from which institution he also received the degree of D. D.
On completing his collegiate studies, he entered the ministry of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in the New-Jersey Conference. He had occupied, however, but one or two pastoral "appointments," when he was called to a professorship in Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pa. He was only twenty-three years of age at this time, but his ripe scholarship fully justified his appointment. A writer in the Southern Christian Advocate, who seems to be quite familiar with Dr. M'Clintock's early life, says:
"On reaching Carlisle, he was sent to the late Rev. Asbury Roszel, then principal of the preparatory department. It was twilight, and Asbury was engaged in fixing his lamps. Hearing a knock, he said, gruffly, Come in.' Seeing a slight, youthful figure enter the room: 'Sit down till I am through here,' said he, supposing it was some 'sub' come to enter. When through, he turned and said, abruptly enough, Now, sir, what do you want?' You may conceive his astonishment, when he found that this youth, with not much more than a boy's down on his lip, and whom he, doubtless, had expected to have the pleasure of drubbing occasionally, was to rank him by the occupancy of a professor's chair. Those must have been great days at Dickinson, when Durbin, then Emory, Allen, M'Clintock, Caldwell, Baird, and others, were there together. What changes have taken place in that little circle! Durbin, Missionary Secretary; Allen, President of Girard College; Baird, in the Smithsonian Institute; Emory and Caldwell in the grave; and M'Clintock filling one of the most responsible and influential posts in the gift of the Church."
While at Carlisle, Dr. M'Clintock occupied, with marked success, different professional chairs. He formed there also habits of assiduous and systematic literary labor, which have had no slight effect on his subsequent accomplished scholarship. His studies were usually continued till midnight, or later. He has since paid the penalty of such indiscretion in the sufferings of ill health, sufferings which, however, more fortunately
in his case than in many others, came upon him early enough to admit of successful treatment. A voyage to Europe and more self-indulgent habits, have quite renovated his constitution, and still prom ise him a physique of quite aldermanic or episcopal pretensions. He might already take his stand, without much apology, among the "florid friars" of the "good old times."
He mastered the German during his residence at Carlisle, and, jointly with Professor Blumenthal, translated in 1846 and 1847 Neander's Life of Christ. His most important literary works however were, during this period, a series of Greek and Latin text-books, which he commenced in connection with Professor Crooks. Four of them have been published, viz. :-First and Second Books in Latin, and First and Second Books in Greek. We have no hesitancy in pronouncing these volumes the best elementary books in Latin and Greek with which we are acquainted. They are based substantially on the method of Ollendorf, and are prepared with an exactness and discrimination which cannot fail to be prized by the critical teacher.
While engaged in these professional labors, Dr. M'Clintock was also a frequent contributor to the "Methodist Quarterly Review." His articles were distinguished by their sound sense, good taste, and polished style.
At the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, held at Pittsburgh in 1848, he was elected editor of that publication, and, at the session of 1852, was reelected almost unanimously. The periodical has assumed a commanding rank under his editorial care. It has won for itself high consideration both in this country and in Europe, and good judges hesitate not to pronounce it among the very first Quarterlies of the day.
Thus much of biographic data respecting Dr. M'Clintock. According to our preliminary remarks we might stop here, and we would do so, were it not that another hand affords us some observations on more delicate points. The writer already quoted from the Southern Christion Advocate, gives the following "pen and ink portrait" of the doctor, in regard to which we must resuggest the qualification already given, respecting our engraved portrait. "He is," says this writer,
"below the middle stature, a little stout; with a very youthful, comely face, animated expression, florid complexion, a head of almost enormous size, but not disfiguring, because of its admirably balanced development. He is agile in his movements, and withal graceful, frank, and easy in his manners. In the pulpit he is calm and self-possessed, ready in utterance, and apt in expression. His choice of language is admirable; so that his style is simple, forcible, and chaste-more accurate than you often hear. His elocution is good; articulating distinctly, insomuch that while his voice is not powerful-although very sweet-he is easily heard. You listen to him with delight, everything is in such perfect keeping. The discourse is thoroughly digested, well-arranged, and harmoniously proportioned; blending lucid exposition, and ample, searching analysis of the subject, with well-put, earnest, practical applications. He never startles, much less overwhelms you. You pay close attention, but never forget yourself, and wonder, on recovery, where you are. He is tranquilly thoughtful; so are you. He is, moreover, devout, and communicates a kindred feeling. He never speculates, and seldom invites you to a comprehensive sweep of thought. But so luminously is the subject put, and so variously and felicitously illustrated, that you possess an abiding reprint of it. His other duties have prevented his preaching as much, and in the way, justice to himself demanded. The Church has lost one of its noblest pulpit men, in a finished professor and accomplished editor. Other professional posts demand time, patience, and toilsome practice for the effective performance of their duties, and the attainment of their richest possible excellence; but none in this respect compare with the pulpit. And, except in peculiar cases, and under rarely occurring circumstances, no man becomes the preacher he ought, save in the pastoral office so that, with all his capabilities and accomplishments, Dr. M'Clintock does not compare with what he might have been as a minister of the word, had the Church kept him in the pulpit all these years."
We do not indorse this estimate of Dr. M'Clintock as a preacher, having had no adequate opportunity of judging of his pulpit traits. It will be deemed, we think, by those who most frequently hear
him, quite sufficiently fastidious. Another newspaper scribbler, for whose judgment we have reason to entertain less respect, described the doctor in the Herald and Journal, during the late Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in the following terms of nonchalance :—
He is of Irish descent, and has a decidedly Hibernian look of the better kind— being sanguine almost to repletion; his face is florid and even flushed, and there is an incessant play of sanguine activity and eagerness about his fine rosy features. He is evidently a man of tireless energy, and is fat in spite of his temperament. His motions are quick, and his speech rapid. His head is his capital attraction, figuratively as well as etymologically so. It projects out and rounds off 'prodigiously,' as Dominie Sampson used to say; and is one of the best-balanced crania in the ssembly. His stature is small, stout, and apparently strong, and in conjunction with his eager features and prompt "nervous" manners, gives him a peculiar and most significant air of pugnacity. His appearance would incline you to suspect that his Irish blood would rise egregiously at Donnybrook Fair, and his shillaleh move right and left; but he is in fact as cool as he is prompt-a scholarly, discriminating critic, never falling into pugilistic attitudes toward the literary wights who come within the purview of his editorial arena, and always dispatching a case of literary butchery with as little bloodshed as may be."
A rough draught this, certainly, but, in connection with our other passages, it must suffice for our present introduction of Dr. M'Clintock.
ALL that has been written in song, or told in story, of love and its effects, falls far short of its reality. Its evils and its blessings, its impotence and its power, will continue the theme of nature and of art, until the great pulse of the universe is stilled. Arising from the depths of misery, descending from heaven the most direct and evident manifestation of a divine and self-sacrificing spirit, it is at once the tyrant and the slave. Happier as the latter than as the former-for the perfection of love is obedience; the power of obeying what we love is, at all events, the perfection of a woman's happiness.
UT a few months ago we had been strolling about Palace-yard, when we instinctively paused at No. 19 York-street, Westminster. It was evening: the lamplighters were running from post to post, but we could still see that the house was a plain house to look at, differing little from its associate dwellings-a common house, a house you would pass without a thought, unless the remembrance of thoughts that had been given to you from within the shelter of those plain, ordinary walls, caused you to reflect, aye, and to thank God, who has left with you the memories and sympathies which elevate human nature. Here, while Latin Secretary to the Protector, was JOHN MILTON to be found when "at home;" and in his society, at times, were met all the men who, with their great originator, Cromwell, astonished Europe. Just think of those who entered that portal; think of them all if you can-statesmen and warriors; or, if you are really of a gentle spirit, think of two-but two-either of whom has left enough to engross your thoughts and fill your hearts. Think of JOHN MILTON and ANDREW MARVEL! think of the Protector of England, with two such secretaries!
For a long while we stood on the steps of this building, and at length retraced our steps homeward. Our train of thought, although checked, was not changed, when
seated by a comfortable fire. We took down a volume of Milton; but "Paradise Lost" was too sublime for the mood of the moment, and we "got to thinking" of Andrew Marvel, and displaced a volume of Captain Edward Thompson's edition of his works; and then it occurred to us to walk to Highgate, and once again enjoy the sight of his quaint old cottage on the side of the hill just facing "Cromwell House," and next to that which once owned for its master the great Earl of Lauderdale.
We know nothing more invigorating than to breast the breeze up a hill, with a bright clear sky above, and the crisp ground under foot. The wind of March is as pure champagne to a healthy constitution; and let mountain-men laugh as they will at Highgate-hill, it is no ordinary labor to go and look down upon London from its height.
Here then we are, once more, opposite the house where lived the satirist, the poet, the incorruptible patriot.
It is, as you see above, a peculiarlooking dwelling, just such a one as you might well suppose the chosen of Andrew Marvel-exquisitely situated, enjoying abundant natural advantages; and yet altogether devoid of pretension; sufficiently beautiful for a poet, sufficiently humble for a patriot.
It is an unostentatious home, with simple