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W>8T l!f THE CLOUDS.
»T MABY 8. BaYAK.
An aeronaut, getting ready, in the presence of
a vast crowd to aseend in his balloon, was sud
denly carried np by the escape of the partially
filled balloon, while he was seated on the valre
to keep it down. Having no means to procure
the descent of |he balloon, or to guide it, he
drifted about in the lonely regions of the air,
until he became exhausted and fell into a lake.
, ^ Away, with the speed of air—
And the reeling earth beneath him lies—
And above—the calm, remorseless skies—
And (hint, on his palsied ear,
Fall the cries of the horror-struck crowd, that stand
With their fear-blanched lipa and their upraised hands,
Faintly he hears their cries.
As the sailor, misled by the mist and gloom.
And lured to the Mteletrom's whirling tomb.
Aa dizzly round he flies.
Hear* voices sweet, that call from the shore
To him, that shall answer them never more—
l'o him for whom death waits grimly below.
TTp.ap, through the pathless air,
And the winds go by. with a mocking cry;
And the red sun glares with nnpitying eye—
And his lips can flame no prayer,
As he clings, with quick and laboringbreata
To the only bar between him and death.
And now, the gathering clouds
Dome hovering around, like birds of prey
Come trooping up on their pinions grey,
And wrap him in their damp shroud*,
And shut out the beautiful earth below,
As the mist, from the Mariner, veils the shore.
Oh ! blessed, beautiful earth!
Though it were on the desert's burning sands.
Or the green icebergs of the polar strands ;
One foot of thy land were worth
These measureless realms of air and cloud.
Where the mist spreads darkly it* death-damp shroud.
Bat now the night comes on.
And, the moving clouds take horrible forms,
And hover around in darkening swarms;
Bat higher—and they are gone,
And the stars look down with their cold, pale eyes.
And silence is wide as the boundless skies.
Tls a tearful thing, I ween.
To float—a wreck—on a stormy sea.
While the breakers, mattering hoarse on the lea,
By the lightning's glare are seen ;
f>nt oh 1 to be lost In a sea of air,
With no sound and no living creature there—
Alone, with a horrible despair !
Oh God 1 bow still it is!
Still, as when the murderer holds his breata.
As he bends awhile o'er his work of death.
Oh ! better the Cobra’s hiss,
The lion's roar and all sounds of dread.
Than this stillness, deep as the sleep of the dead.
Shriek ! Break with desperate cries
This silence, that broods so deep and wide ;
Scream to the spectral clouds that glide ;
Mock all those hungry eyes
That glare on your pain, that will soon be past.
For your hotbrain reels, and your strength falls fast,
Oh, God ! to die, to die!
When the blood bounds free and warm with health,
Aud the lip is red with its treasured wealth.
And the noon of life is nigh;
When a sweet voice steals throngh the spirit’s strife,
Wooing yon back to love and life.
And thus the night wears on—
As silently as a ghost glides by.
And the stars that rode the midnight sky
Grow paJe at sight of dawn.
And the smiling earth olose under him lies.
But a dimness falls on his glazing eyes-
One by one, the stars go out.
Ae the lights in a desolate banquet hail,
Whose Mincers have vanished, one and aU,
Whose flowers lie strewn about ;
And the sun glaresopen his blood-shot eye,
As eager to see the doomed oue die.
Ha. waat was that startled scream ?
•Just Heaven I is the longed for earth so near.
That its blessed sounds may reach his ear ’
Alas, for the transient dream !
Aa eagle with earth damp wing flaps by
And turns and looks with a startled cry
At so strange a sight In tt e lonely sky.
Aye; scream in your fierce despair ;
t 'r_v to the bird that has swiftly flown,
Bid him not leave yon. to die alone;
Then sob out a pitiful prayer.
For feebly your cold hands hold their olasp —
Tis death that Is loosening their frenzied grasp,
Ah well. It is still again.
And a great calm falls on the doomed one's heart;
And thongh his lips are with prayer apart.
There is no more fear or pain.
Look down [ what, is it that lies below ?
A calm, blue lake with its quiet flow.
Down, down throngh the yielding air.
And the blue lake opens its peaceful breast.
And the wanderer at last has (band his rest—
And the wind breathes a trembling prayer.
But soon the tair waters close calmly o’er.
And the sun shines down, as it shone before.
Enoch M. Marvin, D.D., LL.D.
BISHOP M. E. CHURCH SOUTH.
BY BBT. W. t. SCOTT.
It is a well-known fact that there are no two
leaves of the forest which are altogether similar.
There is often a general resemblance in out
line and coloring, bat not absolute identity.
A searching scrutiny indeed reveals discrepan
ces that are but little short of specific differ
ences.
So in the world of mankind, there are no two
individuals of the race that are precisely alike
in form and features and charaoter. Now and
then, as in the vegetable world, there are close
resemblanoes, giving rise at times to some com
edy of errors, or even to graver complications
as in the Tichborne case, but personal identity
is an ultimate fact, resting not more on con
sciousness than on well-defined physiological
differences.
In the oompany of the Twelve Apostles, there
was every variety of character—from John, who
leaned on the Master’s breast at the last sapper,
to Jadas, who went forth from that Upper Cham
ber to strike his infamous bargain with Christ’s
enemies. The staid, common-place Matthew,
was the very antipodes of the impulsive Peter,
and Thomas, with his matter-of-fact mind, was
quite unlike James, who was snrnamed the
Just
The Episcopacy of the M. E. Church South
is made np likewise of diverse elements.
Wightman, courtly and dignified enough for an
English Primate, is scholarly and profound.
Doggett is rhetorical and even Ciceronian in his
style. McTyiere is what the French style un
hornme des affaires, equal to any occasion,
ready for any emergency, and would succeed
well as a Congressional or Parliamentary leader.
Pierce, as an orator, is unequalled by any of his
colleagues; in his happier, intellectual moods,
there is an electric thrill in his voice and a
glow in his style which constitute him a master
of assemblies. Paine and Kavanangh and
Keener, are all worthy successors of McKendree
and Capers. Marvin was radically different
from any of his brethren.
In person, Bishop Marvin was tall and grace
ful. There was, however, a certain delicaoy of
mould whioh indicated a lack of physical hardi
hood; his eyes were large and dreamy; his
brow lofty and of ample breadth; Ms month
large, even to the verge of voluptuousness. He
had in an eminent degree that mental and phy
sical equipoise, which Emerson has prononnoed
the chief characteristic of the average English
man. This quality of solidity and self-oolleot-
edness combined with genuine pluck, has con
tributed more than ought else to make England
the workshop of the world, and to give to her
the empire of the seas.
Marvin, we repeat, had this English trait
We have seen him in the pnlpit and on the
latform; we have observed nis manner in the
tationing-room, and as President of Annual
and General Conferences, and in all these posi
tions we have been struck with his impertur
bable self-possession. And, yet there was at
all times the otter absence of offensive self-
assertion, and the oontinnal presence of a beau
tiful humility, both profound*and unaffected.
Nor mnst we forbear to say that there was no
lack of tenderness in Bishop Marvin, while he
was ever firm and self-poised; there was like
wise the deepest sensibility. In a word, he il
lustrated in his life the admirable oonplet:
The bravest are the tenderest,* >
The loving are the daring.
It is not my purpose to speak of the details
of that life of noble self-sacrificing toil. We
leave to the chnroh historian the task of reeordi og
his trials and trinmphs as he served his gene
ration on circuits, stations and districts. We
propose simply to describe him as a preacher,
writer and bishop of the chnrch.
As a preacher, Bishop Marvin has had few
peers in the American pnlpit. It wonld be in
excusable 1 favoritism to claim that he was equal
to Bascomb, Summerfleld and Olin in the
power of swaying vast assemblies. Indeed, it
is but just to say that he lacked the comprehen
sive intellect of Olin, the Miltonic imagination
of Bascomb, the evangelio fervor and force of
Snmmerfield.
It is, however, no small praise to say that he
had no superior amongst his immediate con
temporaries in any branoh of the Christian
church. His published sermons, we are con
strained to allow, convey a very inadequate idea
of his pulpit power. It is necessary to have
heard him when in the zenith of his strength
and renown, he stood before congregated hun
dreds and discussed suoh themes as * Christ
and the Chnrch,* or * What is Man,’ with a voice
musical as is Apollo's late, and a manner emi
nently befitting such ‘ high-sonled debate.’
Or when on other occasions, with a tender, sol
emn tone, he disenssed the majesty of the Di
vine Law and the exceeding sinfulness of Sin.
Then yon might readily recall Thomas Chal
mers as he thundered in the Tron Chnrch at
Glasgow, or that greater preacher, Robert Hall,
when he hnrled the biokering thunder-bolts of
his invectives against modern infidelity at Cam
bridge, England.
His sermons were, in the main, elaborate and
exhaustive. They were seldom garnished with
the niceties of rhetoric, and less frequently
marked by a needless display of learning.
Preaching, with him, was a thing of awful im
port, and never did he affect the style of the
mere scholar or assume the role of the clerical
mountebank. Never oan we forget his perora
tion at the Oxford commencement. It was
manifestly extemporized, and we see no trace of
it in his volume of sermons.
We said at the time, and we are steadfast in
the same belief, that it was unsurpassed by any
thing in the annals of oratory. Lather, at the
Diet of Worms; the E irl ot Chatham before the
Honse of Lords—Daniel Webster before the
American Senate, pleading for the compromise
of the Constitution, did not present a grander
spectacle than Marvin pointing the graduating
class of Emory to that loftier destiny that awaits
the child of God.
He was an independent, and, as some have al
leged, an adventnrons thinker. Certainly he
was not a rontinist in theology. We have even
heard his views challenged and his orthodoxy
impeached. On minor points of Christian doc
trine he occasionally diverged from the beaten
track, bnt, on the fundamental tenets of the
chnroh, he was as sturdily orthodox as Athana
sius himself. These aberrations, 1* they deserve
to be thus oharicterized, resulted chiefly from
the metaphysical cast of his mind.
He was fond of specnlation, and was for years
an ardent student of Modern Philosophy.
He was quite as muoh indebted to the Philos-
oper of Konigsberg aad Sir Wm. Hamilton, as
to Wesley's Sermons or Clark’s Commentaries.
Be helped greatly to popularize Metaphysics,
and while there is daBger in that direction, yet
he always returned from these abstrnse studies
to kneel at the feet of Jesus, with the simplicity
and docility of a little child.
This whole matter will, however, be more
clearly understood by the general reader from
the subjoined extract, from one of his best dis
courses:
■The mind is not jnBt a store-house—a mere
depository of fact#; it has also the faculty of
using the facts held by the understanding, for
high purposes of speculation and aotion; it con
structs systems of soienoe, of mechanics, of art,
of government, of philosophy, of morals. Thns
from facts which are the raw material of thought,
it brings out the stupendous results of mental
force, the finished and polished products of in
tellectual skill. God’s creation is the field which
man’s reason cultivates, and from the farrow of
his thought there springs an efflorescence more
beautiful than Sharon, and more fragrant than
Oriental gardens, and fruit more lnscions than
the grapes of EsehoL
‘ Reason manifests itself in three form i —
logic, philosophy, and art, whioh indnc< or
try. Logic is the pare reason, and inclo n
mathematics; its simplest expression is in n. V
ematical demonstrations. Philosophy and art
are an outgrowth of the pure reason,and oover a
wide range; on one side they give specnlation,
metaphysics, psychology and imagination, whioh
itself is a manifestation of reason and the source
of all art; on the other side, the practical, they
give all organization—governments, corpora
tions, commerce, organized industries.
‘ From the works of God, whioh become sub
jective in the understanding, what new oreations
are evolved ! What new earths and'new heavens
float and glow in the firmament of thought! The
creation not only exists over again in man, bnt
becomes reproductive: each fact is germinant,
and worlds on worlds in the abysses of thought
are the harvest.
* Doctrines, systems, philosophies, dramas,
epics, lyrics, now sweeping outward with cos-
mical breadth and grandenr, now searching in
ward with incisive pnngency, now dogmatizing
with magisterial thunder-voice, now booming
forward on the railway of indnetion, irresisti
ble—ergo, ergo, now patting forth solicitous
antenn® of experiment, and now weaving rain
bows with facile interplay of thought and sen
timent, in peopling the universe with all possi
ble forms of beanty, and grandenr, and terror—
these are the offspring of reason.
‘ Government, societies, industries, as we have
seen, all come of this faculty. All organized
activities and historical movements, all forces
of society, and the resulting conditions, come of
it Science, sculpture, architecture, poetry, are
products of it. . ,
‘ Closely allied to reason is the ‘ faith faculty.
Faith is the cognition of the unseen, of the spir
itual; it is the understanding in its highest func
tions—the understanding as it is related to the
highest forms of being, the spiritual and divine.
‘ The very laot that there is such a faculty in
man is high proof of the reality of unseen
things. Otherwise, there is somewhat subjective
in man whioh has no objective fact answering to
it Indeed, the chief glory aud crown of his
consciousness is that it touches God, that it re-
oognizes and realizes the Infinite. Every man
feels that that whioh is deepest and richest in
himself, and in the possibilities of his being, is
above all terms of mere Boientific expression; it
oannot be postulated in any mathematical for
mula; no diagram upon the blackboard oan rep
resent it The spiritual essence exists nnder
more sobtle conditions; its relations to God and
eternity belong to a higher class of facts.
'In attempting this elevation, reason bewil
ders itself amid an overwhelming array of un
resolved nebulas; it disoovers supernal light
and an nnapproaobable glory; all is remote, in-
aooessible, and undefined.
* How easily it tarns the objeot-glass of revela
tion upon these heavens! and with what joy it
sees each luminous olond resolved into stars!
There they stand high in the holy places—ever
lasting utterances of God.
* With regard to spiritual and divine things,
faith is the nltimate word of reason. The high
est reason ends in faith, in a region where it cun
find no data of scientific indnetion, it hears the
voice of God, recognizes it, trusts it, follows it.
God’s will and purposes on one side, and man’s
obligation and destiny on the other, come into
a clear light Faith pots ns into immediate
communication with God and with the highest
range of facts in the universe; life and immor
tality are brought to light; man discovers him
self in the brotherhood of the immortals; he
finds himself on a footing with the princedoms
and powers of a higher life. ’
As a writer, Bishop Marvin has achieved a
reputation hardly inferior to his well-earned
fame as a preacher. It is true that his contri
butions to our chnrch literature were occasional
and fragmentary, yet they have been alike
creditable to his head and heart. Jlig “Letters
on Romanism” first drew public attention to
him as an author, and are said; by capable
jndges to have been excellent controversial
tracts. A more useful and widely-known pub
lication was his small volume on the “Work of
Christ.’’ We have examined it with much in
terest, and find in it the germs of many of those
discussions that have sinoe made his ministry so
wonderfully attractive. ♦
The problems of the origin of evil — the ne
cessity and nature of the atonement—the liberty
of the will and kindred topics are clearly pre
sented and argued with great logical ability.
No one can rise from its reading without a
regret that his official duties did not allow him
sufficient leisure to prepare a larger, if not
profounder treatise on these questions whioh
have hitherto baffled the wisdom of the ages.
The fame of Marvin, as a writer, will, after
all, rest on his Book of Travels now fresh from
the press.
The field traversed by him in his Episcopal
tour has been often explored. Olin, Barokhardt
and Stephens were among the early tourists.
More recently, Dr. Butler, in his ‘ ‘Land of the
Veda;” and Bishop Thomson, in his “Oriental
Missions,” have oconpied a portion of the same
ground. To each and all of them we owe hoars
and days of pleasant reading. In cur opinion,
Marvin is the most companionable and in
structive of them all. His greater success is
dne, in part, to his graphic talent. He had an
eye and a sonl for the picturesque in scene or
situation. His taste was educated amidst the
matchless scenery of the far West He was
familiar with the broad and billowy prairies—he
had scaled its olond-capped mountains and
gone down into its bottomless canyons. He
had penetrated its deep, sunless defiles — every
one a natural Thermopylae and he had threaded
the tangled mazes of its unbroken wilderness.
Sometimes in a frontiers-man’s cabin, he had
studied astronomy through the ohinks in the
walls, or the crevioes of the roof.
At other times he had slept to the musie of
thundering cataracts, or been soothed to sinmber
by the harsh lullaby of its blustering northers.
This, after all, was a better school than the gal
leries of Florenoe, or Berlin. And while in the
East the Bcenery was quite dissimilar, yet he
depicted it with the “pen of a ready writer.”
We find it easy to journey with him along the
crowded thoroughfares of China J jipan We
sail with him up tht
the capital of the Great Mogul—and we ascend
with him the Historic Nile almost to the foot of
the Cataracts. We repose with him at|noon-tide
under the shadow of the Pyramids, and pause
for meditation and prayer at the Well ofSychar.
We wander delighted beside the bine waves of
Genessaret; and stand with bated breath on the
blasted sites of Capernanm and Bethsaida, once
exalted to Heaven, bnt now oast down to Hell.
We visit with him the saored localities at Jeru
salem and its environs— the Holy Sepnlchre—
the Hill of Evil Connsel—the Aroh of the Ecoe
Homo—the Garden of Christ’s agony, and the
traditional spot of his ernoifixion. A 1 is so
vivid and life-like, that when aroused, we oan
scarcely believe that oars has been nothing but
a sentimental journey.
The charm of Marvin’s description and narra
tion is dne in part also to his earnest, enthusias
tic sympathy with all that is Ven erable and sa
cred in the soenes of the East. Dr. Johnson has
well said that the man is not to be envied whosp
patriotism is not rekindled on the plains of Mar
athon,and whose piety does not glow with great
er fervor amidst the ruins of Iona.
So we think the man, much more the Christian
minister,is to be pitied who oan walk with other
than unsandalled feet along the bridle-path
from Jerusalem to Bethany, or who does not
feel tAe spirit of worship at the cave of the Na
tivity. Bishop Marvin was always in sympathy
with the soenes he describes. He had as little
reverence as any for Monkish legends, and none
at all for fabulous relics and the like trumpery
of superstition—yet he speaks tenderly of those
errors or follies ‘that lean to virtue’s side. ’
It only remains to oomplete our original plan
that we devote a brief space to his administra
tion as a Bishop of the Church.
He was elected to this highest office of the
ministry by the General Conference of 1866.
It ought to be mentioned to his praise that he
was chosen while he was not a member of that
body or even present at its session. The infor
mation of his election reached him while he was
prosecuting his regular ministerial work in the
wilds of Texas.
His subsequent history has amply vindicated
the wisdom of the choice. Bishop Marvin was
a favorite with clergy and laity m all portions
of the Southern Church. He shrank'from no
toil or sacrifice to which official dqty called
him.
He was thoroughly impartial and upright in
his Episcopal office. The doctrine and discip
line of the ohurch ever found in him an un
flinching advocate,and yet he steadily eschewed
all bigotry and religions partisanship. In la
bors he was abundant. His charaoter in this
aspect of it is suggestive of the Great Apostle.
Paul preached from Jerusalem round about un
to Illyrioum, at Romo also; and if ecclesiastical
tradition may be trusted, he passed the pillars
of Hercules aud planted the standard of the oross
on the shore of Britain, the Ultima Thule of an
cient Geogrpahy.
Marvin, in the providence of God, preached
the gospel in the four great continents of our
globe. To the dusky millions of Asia he oar-
ried the messages of salvation. Ethiopia,
kneeling amidst her desert sands, heard the
everlasting gospel from his lips. In the heart
of mighty London) he pointed sinners to the
Lamb of God—all over this vast republic, from
New York to San Francisco, and from the capes
of Florida to the borders of Oregon, he mads
full proof of his ministry. Everywhere he
was acknowledged by all classes and all denom
inations as a truly apostolio man.
It seems to us mysterious that just as he had
finished the circuit of the earth, and was so
well fitted for a wider sphere of usefulness, that
God should call him home. We do not believe
that this event was altogether unexpected to
himself. In the preface to his Volame of Sal
mons, there is a sentence that, in the light of
after events, sounds like a presentiment and a
prophecy of his speedy dissolution. To his
bereaved family and the strioken ohurch, how-
ever, it was sqdden, nnlooked for and well-nigh
overwhelming. Thank God! he survived the
hardships of the desert—the perils of the sea—
and died at last amidst the charities of his own
Western home. His end was peace and holy
triumph. And when devont men bore him
forth to his bnrial, it was in joyfnl hope of the
resurrection of the dead and the Life Everlast
ing.
Jewish Princes ol Fia»nee.-1.
Bolomax de Medina—the lopez family.
A genius for accumulating and successfully
dealing with large capital has been looked upon
as a special part of the Jewish charaoter, just as
oertain physical traits distinguish the Hebrew
race from their neighbors. That peculiar instinct
which seems to lead Israelites to fortune; that
intuitive knowledge of the laws of trade; that
keen insight into the doctrine of ohanoes;
that mysterious faculty which enables them not
seldom to convert lead into gold, to the wonder
of Gentiles, are probably qualities acquired and
not inherent to the race. The Jews in their own
oonntry were originally an agricultural people.
Later on, after their dispersion, they were not
permitted to follow the liberal professions nor
to own land. They had to live and to pay with
gold for the right of existence. They turned to
commerce, for whioh they had particular oppor
tunities, owing to the scattered state of their
nation, and they learnt the power of wealth.
With coin they purchased toleration and safety;
and on account of their financial repate they
were solicited to administer the exchequers of
states and princes. When a muscle is contin
ually used, it attains a larger size. When a
mental faculty is called into constant action it
acquires development and strength. Finally,
during the oourseof succeeding generations, it
becomes hereditary. This may explain the as
tonishing snooess achieved by Jews in trade and
finance, for it is certain that, in proportion to
their numbers, they have produced more em
inent capitalists than any other people. In these
papers we shall give an acconnt of the principal
Jewish financiers, who flourished in this country
since the return hither of the Israelites at the
Restoration; and we believe that we shall be able
to offer some information whioh hitherto has
not been available for publication.
The persecution, in the Peninsula, against the
Hebrew race, and their final exile from a land
they loved, forced the Spanish Jews to seek
asylnm in less intolerant communities. To
Holland many Hebrews, the aristocracy of their
nation, brought their financial skill and as much
of their treasure as they could carry away. The
presence of the Jews greatly benefited the
Netherlands. The commerce and enterprise of
the commonwealth vastly increased, and the
Jew taught the Dutchman how to create wealth,
real or artificial. England offered a more ex
tended field of action to the ingenious and
speculative Israelite. As soon as circumstanoes
permitted, the descendants of the Patriarohs
came over to London, and joined in the chase
for gold, very often distancing their compet
itors. The Semite beat the Aryan, not by less
scruple, but by more knowledge, foresight, and
aonmen. In the reign of Charles II., among
the frequenters of St. Paul’s, where the mer
chant, citizen and the noble congregated, might
have been seen an old man with Eastern features.
He was Judah Menasseh Lopez, the first Jewish
capitalist in London of whom we find traces.
He seemed to be treated with great respeot by
customers, though muttered curses against him
were often heard from the crowd not far from
him. Menasseh Lopez was an accommodating
financier, ready to advance cash on a piece of
plate, ait estate, cr an annuity. lit- foot to mer
chants when their vessels failed to bring them
returns in time to meet their engagements; he
advanced cash on the jewels of those whom a
disturbed period involved in conspiracies which
required the sinews of war; but annuities were
his favorite investment, and he employed his
wealth in their purchase and sale.
That kind of security at that period was a
great medium for gambling. To him resorted
all those who were in difficulties and were able
to deal with him. He trafficked with the highest
and lowest; and was more feared than loved. It
is said that it was not easy to recover from him
the property pledged, when its worth much ex
ceeded the amonnt advanced. It is related that
Buckingham, the King’s favorite, received as
sistance from Lope/., on the deposit of deeds of
value. When the time for repayment approched,
the capitalist appeared before the great noble
man in agony of grief, shrieking that his strong
room had been broken into, his property pil
fered^ and the Duke’s deeds carried away. Buck
ingham was too experienced to believe the tale
on the word of a money-lender. He ordered
enquiries to be made in the city, while Lopez
was to be watched. His messengers returned
averring that all Lombard Street was in an
nproar concerning the robbery. Still the Duke
was dissatisfied, and claimed the fall value of
his deposits; and in vain the Hebrew swore to
his innocence. It was then announced that a
scrivener solicited an immediate audience of
His Grace, and on being admitted, the stranger
produced the missing documents. The scriv
ener stated that Lopez, believing him to be en
tirely in his power, had left the documents in
his charge until the storm blew over, bnt that,
fearing the Duke’s might, he (the scrivener,
had brought them to York House. It does not
appear that Buckingham inflicted any punish
ment on Lopez, for what we should now term
his “smartness.” Probably His Grace had an
eye to future business. We are bound, however,
to state that the story is from a Christian source,
and that had a Jew written it—as the Lion ob
served when he saw his brother in a picture con
quered by a man—the facts would have been
very different Darker and more dangerous
things were hinted of this man. He was reputed
to possess subtle drugs, and it was noticed that
the healthiest of those to whom he was bound to
pay life annuities, were sometimes cut off in a
remarkable way, especially after having been
alone with him. No apparent foundation for
these rumors can be discovered, beyond the
general ignorance of the age, and the medical
lore possessed by Lopez, like others of his race.
He died in advanced years, leaving behind him
a considerable fortune.
Many opulent Jews came over with Dutch
"William; they joined the jobbers and increased
their importance. The centre of stock-jobbing
was then in Change Alley, and gradually Jon
athan’s became the meeting honse of dealers.
The “Jew Medina” was a noted man in the days
of Queen Anne. In 1711, the Dnke of Mal-
borough was attacked in Parliament for receiving
from a Jew the sum of £6,000. The avaricious
general who hungered after the precious metal
as keenly as any Israelite, replied that the money
had been expended in obtaining trustworthy
information. The hanghty John Churchill, in
point of fact, did not disdain to be the pen
sioner of a despised Jew. Solomon de Medina,
the Hebrew in question, accompanied the Duke
in his campaigns, advanced him funds, pro
vided bread and boots for the troops, was banker
and baker, contractor and speculator. De Me
dina established a system of expresses which
outstripped those of government; and his agents
were supplied with important news before the
Ministers of the Crown. Every British victory
increased bis wealth. He was the first Jew who
received the honor of knighthood. Sir Solomon
de Medina was at one time the largest contributor
to his synagogue, and he remained faithful to
his religion to the last.
At about the same period, another Menasseh
Lopez was thriving and enriohing himself by
operations in stock. One day a messenger on-
! horseback was seen driving in the Qneen’s high
way at headlong speed, shouting “Queen Anne
is dead.” An alarm was created, a panic ensued
and stock of every description rapidly fell in
value. No one had the oonrage to purchase.
Menasseh Lopez the Seoond stepped forward
and bought eargerlv, supported by the Jewish
interest In time the hoax was discovered and
was attributed to Lopez. There was not the
slightest proof for the assertion, the probability
being that Lopez merely profited by the credu
lity and folly of others. At all events, he and
his friends, when the rebonnd came, resold their
stock to considerable advantage, and Menasseh
Lopez the Second established his reputation as
a successful financier.—London W orhi.
| Petals Plucked from a Sunny Clime
NVMBKK IV.
j Lumber Mill* on the St, John*—Cow Word,
| now Jftekjionville— Prcuh Ve^laWei and
! Flowers— Grumbler* Different Corporations
J —Wine Houses, Promenade,, etcChurches—
Harriet B. Stowe and her Husband,
Jacksonville, February, 1878.
The first lumber mills on the St..Johns ate lo
cated near the estate of the Marquis de Talleyrand,
eight miles from Jacksonville*
The busy hnm of industry now echoes from the
shores, where pine logs are being sawed into mate
rial for making houses, not only in Florida, but in
Boston and other Northern cities. Mr. Clark’s
mill, in Bast Jacksonville, received an order after
the big Boston tire, for a million feet at once.
These mills, besides being a source of revenue to
the owners, furnish employment for the poor. The
refuse makes good ftiel, and in cold weather, the
big fires fed with slabs are as good as a free lodg
ing for benighted travelers, tramps and poor folks
whose houses are not over warm,
j Twenty-five miles from the sea, on the 9t. Johns
river, onoe stood an insignificant place known as
Cow Ford, now the site of the tine, thriving city of
Jacksonville—named in honor of “ Old Hickory.”
j This city is the head-center of Florida. Visitors
| oan eome and stay here with no prospect of starv-
j ing, and they can branch out from here to any
| other locality desired.
The Northern visitor, coming to this city in mid
winter, feels as if entering a new world. Every -
1 thing is balmy and blooming. The sun shines, the
birds sing in the orange and live-oak trees. The
market is furnished with cabbages, sweet potatoes,
lettuce, turnips, green peas and radishes, 'and
strawberries, not to speak of the exquisite bouquets
of rosebuds.
Croakers, made snob by ill-health and self-in
dulgence, are not wanting, however. We constant
ly hear these exclaiming: “Too much sand l”
“ Too little to eat!” “ Too high prioes for things l”
Nothing can please them. Their faces are drawn
up in disgust, and their tongues are ready to strike
with the venom of contempt at every person who
has a good word to say in favor of Florida.
The unbroken quiet whieh has been with us
sinoe we left Savannah is interrupted soon. As
soon as a steamer touches the Jacksonville wharf,
she is surrounded by hotel drummers, and dray and
carriage drivers, than which the plagues of Egypt
could not have been more troublesome. This city
contains fine accommodations, and for this reason
receives more envy than admiration from other
Florida towns.
Jacksonville furnishes more than one hundred
good places of entertainment, among which may be
found several big'hotels, capable of containing two
or three hundred guests ; also boarding houses of
less pretensions. Selections may be made where
money may be spent rapidly or slowly, according
to the inclination of the visitor.
The influx of visitors commences some seasons
sooner than others. The first cold blast from the
North sends the feeble invalids South to bask in the
summer sunshine of a milder atmosphere, aad
when spring comes they return home like the mi
gratory birds. Many appear to live contented
while they remain, enjoying themselves as thongh
“ earth contained no tomb for them,” although
not one visitor in tfen we meet but shows marks of
disease, and has come here only to cheat death a
little longer of his victim.
Jacksonville and its suburban villages number
a population of over twelve thousand inhabitants,
the whole area being three miles long and about
two miles broad.
These corporations are distinguished from each
other by the names of Jacksonville, Hast Jackson
ville, Brooklyn, La Villa, Riverside, Springfield,
Handsome Town, etc., each town containing from
fifty to fifteen hundred houses.
The inhabitants say they were first laid out into
lots, and named with the expectatiou of a large in
crease of pepulation ; eonsequently, there are de
sirable building lots, in these surveyed sites, for
growing cities, for sale at all times on moderate
terms.
Jacksonville makes a display of architectural
skill, in which are seen the improvements of the
nineteenth century. Yards and lawns are laid
out, fronting many of the residences, where the
beauties of landscape gardening may be found,
blending in harmony with the artistioally arranged
walks aud pleasure promenades.
The sidewalks are made of plank and brick,
shaded and overhung with live oaks, forming
archways of inviting appearance, from which
swings the long gray moss.
There are over twenty church edifices in and
around the city, where both white and colored
people come to worship in crowds.
Nevertheless, Sunday in Jacksonville is marked
by various recreations, and steamboat excursions
are well patronized by Northern visitors, few of
whom appear to bring their religion when they
come South.
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe is here to-day, from
her home in Mandarin, for the purpose of attend
ing church. Dr. Stowe, her husband, accompa
nies her as he preaches. When they entered the
Southern Methodist Chnreh, a slight rustle was
heard in the congregation, and a few persons left
the house. Mr. and Mrs. “Uncle Tom” were
more than a Sabbath dose for some of the Jack
sonville community. Harriet B. has no resem
blance to a perpetrator of discord or scandal—one
who has swayed the divining rod of abolitionism
with sufficient potency to immortalize herself for
many coming generations, or probed the private
life of a man who, during the period of his che
quered existence, never carved out virtue for one
of his shrines. The* three snowy curls on each
side of her face give her a matronly look, and her
stout-built frame, well covered with flesh, a sub
stantial appearance.
The services to-day were opened by a very long
prayer from Dr. S., after which a purely orthodox
sermon, on the subject of “Godliness,” was de
livered.
Harriet had confidence in the ability of her has*
band. She knew the discourse would be right
without tier vigilant eye, and she went to sleep.
She nodded naturally like other sleepers; her
claws were concealed under kid oovers, and were
thrusting at no one; she looked the picture of
content, and was, no doubt, dreaming of that far-
off, beautiful country, where those who create
commotion and dissensions can never enter.
Silvia Suns kink.
Sentimental youth.—* My dear girl, will yon
share my lot for life T
Practical gal.—‘How many aerea is your lot?*'