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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?*'