1818 to the Miami country, where he led a vagrant life as a teacher in various places.

In 1823 Mr. Reynolds, who had passed through a portion of the course of studies at the Ohio University, being unable to return to the institution, made inquiries for a competent instructor with whom he could complete his classical education, and hearing of Glass in this connexion, determined to visit him. "I found him," says Mr. Reynolds, "in a remote part of the county, in a good neighbourhood of thrifty farmers, who had employed him to instruct their children, who, in general, were then acquiring the simplest rudiments of an English education. The school-house now rises fresh on my memory. It stood on the banks of a small stream, in a thick grove of native oaks, resembling more a den for Druidical rites, than a temple of learning. The building was a low log-cabin, with a clapboard roof, but indifferently tight-all the light of heaven, found in this cabin, came through apertures made on each side in the logs, and these were covered with oiled paper to keep out the cold air, while they admitted the dim rays.

"The seats, or benches, were of hewn timbers, resting on upright posts, placed in the ground to keep them from being overturned by the mischievous urchins who sat on them. In the centre was a large stove, between which and the back part of the building, stood a small desk, without lock or key, made of rough plank, over which a plane had never passed; and, behind this desk, sat Professor Glass when I entered his school.

"There might have been forty scholars present; twenty-five of these were engaged in spelling, reading, and writing, a few in arithmetic, a small class in English grammar; and a half a dozen, like myself, had joined his school, for the benefit of his instruction in the Greek and Latin languages, preparatory to a more extended course in one of the Ohio seminaries.

"The moment he learned that my intention was to pursue the study of the languages with him, his whole soul appeared to beam from his countenance. He commenced in a strain which in another would have seemed pedantic, but which, in fact, was far from being so in him.

"The following imperfect sketch, drawn entirely from memory, may serve to give some idea of his peculiar manner :- Welcome to the shrine of the Muses, my young friend, Salve! Xaige! The temple of the Delphian God was originally a laurel hut, and the Muses deign to dwell, accordingly, even in my rustic abode. "Non humilem domum fastidiunt, umbrosamve ripam." Here, too, the winds hold converse, 'Eurus, and Caurus, and Argestes loud," and the goddesses of the Castalian fountain, the daughters of the golden-haired Mnemosyne, are sometimes silent with the lyre, "citharâ tacentes," that they may catch the sweet murmurs of the harp of Eolus. Here, too, I, the priest of the muses, Musarum sacerdos, sing, to the young of either sex, strains before unheard, Virginibus puerisque canto. Plutus, indeed, that blind old deity, is far away; and far away let him be, for well has the prince of comic poets styled him a filthy, crooked, miserable, wrinkled, bald, and toothless creature!" ξυπῶντα, κυφῶν, ἀθλιον, ξυσὸν, μαδῶντα, νωδόν.

66

Glass had already commenced the Life of Washington in Latin, which formed the darling object of his life, but his progress had been greatly interrupted by his poverty. By the aid of his new friend, he was enabled to remove to Dayton, where he could pursue his literary labors with greater convenience. His friend also agreeing to find a publisher for the Life, Glass returned to the work with renewed energy, and ere the close of the following winter, delivered the manuscript.

Mr. Reynolds soon after left the country. On his return the only intelligence he could obtain of the Latinist was that he had died during his friend's absence. The precise place and date were alike unknown.

Glass's work appeared in 1835, from the press of the Harpers, with the title, Georgii Washingtonii, America Septentrionalis Civitatum Foederatarum Præsidis primi, Vita, Francisco Glass, A.M. Ohioensi, Literis Latinis Conscripta. It forms an openly printed volume of two hundred and twenty-three pages. Its latinity has generally met the approval of scholars, and it has been used as a text-book by teachers.

PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FRANCE.

A very pleasant and readable tourist's book was published in London in 1809, in 4to., by Lt. Col. Pinkney, of the North American Native Rangers as the author is described in the title-page. We regret that we know nothing of him personally beyond what this book affords; for it invites further acquaintance. Its title is set forth at lengthTravels through the South of France and in the Interior of the provinces of Provence and Languedoc, in the years 1807 and 1808, by a route never before performed, being along the banks of the Loire, the Isère, and the Garonne, through the greater part of their course, made by permission of the French government. The Quarterly received the volume with a professional sneer, to which it had a double incentive in the book being written by an American and preferring France to England. We find it, however, not forgotten in 1814, when it reappeared in a handsomely printed octavo. Lately Leigh Hunt, who has introduced several entertaining scenes from it in his "Book for a Corner," speaks of the sensation which it created thirty years ago, when it set all the world upon going to France to live on the charming banks of the Loire. It might well make Englishmen, spite of anti-Gallican prejudices, out of conceit with their fogs and east winds by its delightful pictures of the south of France, the purity and salubrity of the atmosphere, the out-of-door life of idyllic shepherds amidst abundant fruits and flowers, and the easily excited gaiety which overpowered the hardships of poverty.

Lt. Pinkney sailed from Baltimore for Liverpool in April, 1807, and very seldom afterwards troubles his reader with a date, a deficiency not unusual with books where information of the kind is most needed. Arriving in the early summer at Calais he purchases a Norman horse, upon whose back he manages before he gets through, counting cross-roads and deviations, to accomplish his two thousand miles, reaching Marseilles, the end of his journey, spite of the additional year on the title-page, in the follow

ing autumn. Arriving at Paris, having taken on his way Amiens, Abbeville, Clermont, and Chantilly, he finds Gen. Armstrong American minister at Paris, who introduces him in an imposing levee to the Emperor, whom he sees "dressed very splendidly in purple velvet, the coat and waistcoat embroidered with gold bees, and with the grand star of the Legion of Honor worked into the coat: his person below the middie size, but well composed; his features regular, but in their tout ensemble stern and commanding; his complexion sallow, and his general mien military. He passed no one without notice, and to all the ambassadors he spoke once or twice. When he reached General Armstrong, he asked him whether America could not live without foreign commerce as well as France? and then added, without waiting for his answer, "There is one nation in the world which must be taught by experience that her merchants are not necessary to the existence of all other nations, and that she cannot hold us all in commercial slavery: England is only sensible in her compters."

He

An agreeable party was made up in Paris consisting of Mr. Younge, the secretary of the American legation, his newly married wife, a niece of the celebrated Lally Tolendal, and her sister Mademoiselle St. Sillery, with whom our traveller sets forth towards the end of July, in a carriage and horseback expedition for the Loire. gleaned statistics and general information from his friend the husband, admired the wife, and was more than half in love with the sister, who furnishes for almost every page of the gallant Lieutenant new proofs of the charming qualities of her sex aud nation. It is amusing to observe how full of meaning and interest the simplest remark is from the lips of this beautiful woman. "How happy might a hermit be,' said Mademoiselle St. Sillery, in a cottage on the side of one of those hills! There is a wood for him to walk in, and a brook to encourage him by its soft murmurs to sleep.' I agreed in the observation," naively adds the enamored Lieutenant, "which exactly characterizes the scenery." The maids along the route are continually entangling the susceptible officer in admissions as to the surpassing beauty of this lady or their own.

One fine morning, after leaving St. Valier, the trees were so "uncommonly beautiful," the meadow flowers of such "more than garden sweetness and brilliancy, the birds, moreover, singing merrily," Mademoiselle was "in such life and spirits, that it was not without difficulty that we detained her in her seat!" It is a very pretty little comedy throughout. We do occasionally hear of the price of land, the yield of wheat, and the number of eggs to the shilling, but these are unimportant interruptions to the perpetual study of attractive filles de chambre,* and Watteau pictures of fètes and dances, with genuine stage peasants in flowers and ribbons, and nightingales singing in the groves. If to be pleased

We may compare his gay sketches of 1807 with the observations of a much more staid personage, Erasmus, in the fifteenth century. Both are equally delighted with the lively conversation of the maids at Lyons, and alike piquant in their expres sion of it. Erasmus's account of these fascinations is in his famous Inn Scenes, "Diversorium," in the Colloquies. Sir Walter Scott has adopted this dramatic sketch literally in his Anne of Geierstein,

oneself secures that enjoyment to others, our traveller attains the desirable object. A hardship is scarcely a discomfort in his smooth, easy, negligent style. The manners of the book are somewhat Frenchified, which is not the fault of the writer, unless he is bound to shut his eyes and ears to what is characteristic of the country; and something may be yielded perhaps to the proverbial reputation of his profession for gallantry. In a book, as well as in a drawing-room, a man may be allowed occasionally to sacrifice something of his dignity for the entertainment of the company.

PASSPORT SCENE AT CALAIS IN THE DAYS OF THE EMPIRE.

After our luggage had undergone the customary examination by the officers of the customs, in the execution of which office a liberal fee procured us much civility, we were informed that it was necessary to present ourselves before the Commissary, for that so many Englishmen had obtained admission as Americans, that the French government had found it necessary to have recourse to unusual strictness, and that the Commissary had it in his orders not to suffer any one to proceed till after the most rigid inquiry into his passport and business.

Accordingly, having seen our luggage into a wheel-barrow, which the Captain insisted should accompany us, we waited upon the Commissary, but were not fortunate enough to find him at his office. A little dirty boy informed us, that Mons. Mangouit had gone out to visit a neighbor, but that if we would wait till twelve o'clock (it was now about nine), we should infallibly see him, and have our business duly dispatched. The office in which we were to wait for this Mons. Mangouit for three hours, was about five feet in length by three in width, very dirty, without a chair, and in every respect resembling a cobbler's stall in one of the most obscure streets of London. Mons. Commissary's inkstand was a coffee-cup without an handle, and his book of entries a quire of dirty writing-paper. This did not give us much idea either of the personal consequence of Mons. Mangouit, or of the grandeur of the Republic.

The boy was sent out to summon his master, as a preferable way to our waiting till twelve o'clock. Monsieur at length made his appearance; a little, mean-looking man, with a very dirty shirt, a well powdered head, a smirking, bowing coxcomb. He informed us with many apologies, unnecessary at least in a public officer, that he was under the necessity of doing his duty; that his duty was to examine us according to some queries transmitted to him; but that we appeared gentlemen, true Americans, and not English spies.

After a long harangue, in which the little gentleman appeared very much pleased with himself, he concluded by demanding our passport, upon sight of which he declared himself satisfied, and promised to make us out others for passing into the interior. We were desired to call for these in the evening, or he would himself do us the honor to wait upon us with them at our hotel. Considering the latter as a kind of self-invitation to dine with us, we mentioned our dinner hour and other et ceteras. Mons. Mangouit smiled his acquiescence, and we left him, in the hopes that he would at least change his linen.

England, and a word or two respecting the French Emperor. He appeared much better informed than we had previously concluded from his coxcombical exterior. He seemed indeed quite another man.

He accompanied us after dinner to the comedy: the theatre is within the circuit of the inn. The performers were not intolerable, and the piece, which was what they call a proverb (a fable constructed so as to give a ludicrous verification or contradiction to an old saying), was amusing. I thought I had some obscure recollection of a face amongst the female performers, and learned afterwards, that it was one of the maids of the inn; a lively brisk girl, and a volunteer, from her love of the drama. In this period of war between England and France, Calais has not the honor of a dramatic corps to herself, but occasionally participates in one belonging to the district.

The play being over very early, we finished the evening in our own style, a proceeding we had cause to repent the following day, as the Cote rotie did not agree with us so well as old Port. I suffered so much from the consequent relaxation, that I never repeated the occasion. It produced still another effect; it removed my previous admiration of French sobriety. There is little merit, I should think, in abstaining from such a constant use of medicine.

FETE CHAMPETRE IN A VILLAGE ON A HILL AT MONTREUIL.

Not being pressed for time, the beauty of a scene at some little distance from the road-side tempted me to enter into a by-lane, and take a nearer view of it. A village church, embosomed in a chesnut wood, just rose above the trees on the top of a hill; the setting sun was on its casements, and the foliage of the wood was burnished by the golden reflection. The distant hum of the village green was just audible; but not so the French horn, which echoed in full melo ly through the groves. Having rode about half a mile through a narrow sequestered lane, which strongly reminded me of the half-green and half-trodden by-roads in Warwickshire, I came to the bottom of the hill, on the brow and summit of which the village and church were situated. I now saw whence the sound of the horn proceeded. On the left of the road was an ancient chateau situated in a park, or very extensive meadow, and ornamented as well by some venerable trees, as by a circular fence of flowering shrubs, guarded on the outside by a paling on a raised mound. The park or meadow having been newly mown, had an air at once ornamented and natural. A party of ladies were collected under a patch of trees situated in the middle of the lawn. I stopped at the gate to look at them, thinking myself unperceived; but in the same mo nent the gate was opened to me by a gentleman and two ladies, who were walking the round. An explanation was now necessary, and was accordingly given. The gentleman informed me upon his part, that the chateau belonged to Mons. St. Quentin, a member of the French Senate, and a Judge of the District; that he had a party of friends with him upon the occasion of his lady's birth-day, and that they were about to begin dancing; that Mons. St. Quentin would highly congratulate himself on my accidental arrival. One of the ladies, having previously apologized and left us, had seemingly explained to Mons. St. Quentin the main circumstance belonging to me; for he now appeared, and repeated the invitation in his own person. The ladies added their kind importunities. I dismounted, gave my horse to a servant in waiting, and joined this happy and elegant party, for such it really was.

I had now, for the first time, an opportunity of

forming an opinion of French beauty, the assemblage of ladies being very numerous, and all of them most elegantly dressed. Travelling, and the imitative arts, have given a most surprising uniformity to all the fashions of dress and ornament: and, whatever may be said to the contrary, there is a very slight difference between the scenes of a French and English polite assembly. If any thing, however, be distinguishable, it is more in degree than in substance. The French fashions, as I saw them here, differed in no other point from what I had seen in London, but in degree. The ladies were certainly more exposed about the necks, and their hair was dressed with more fancy; but the form was in almost every thing the same. The most elegant novelty was a hat, which doubled up like a fan, so that the ladies carried it in their hands. There were more colored than white muslins; a variety which had a pretty effect amongst the trees and flowers. The same observation applies to the gentlemen. Their dresses were made as in England; but the pattern of the cloth, or some appendage to it, was different. One gentleman, habited in a grass-colored silk coat, had very much the appearance of Beau Mordecai in the farce: the ladies, however, seemed to admire him, and in some conversation with him I found him, in despite of his coat, a very well informed man. There were likewise three or four fancy dresses; a Dian, a woodnymph, and a sweet girl playing upon a lute, habited according to a picture of Calypso by David. On the whole, there was certainly more fancy, more taste, and more elegance, than in an English party of the same description: though there were not so many handsome women as would have been the proportion of such an assembly in England.

A table was spread handsomely and substantially under a very large and lofty marquee. The outside was very prettily painted for the occasionVenus commemorating her birth from the ocean. The French manage these things infinitely better than any other nation in the world. It was neces sary,

7, however, for the justice of the compliment, that the Venus should be a likeness of Madame St. Quentin, who was neither very young nor very handsome. The painter, however, got out of the scrape very well.

A small party accompanied me into the village, which was lively, and had some very neat houses. The peasantry, both men and women, had hats of straw; a manufactory which Mons. St. Quentin had introduced. A boy was reading at a cottage door. I had the curiosity to see the book. It was a volume of Marmontel. His mother came out, invited us into the house, and in the course of some conversation, produced some drawings by this youth: they were very simple, and very masterly. The ladies purchased them at a good price. He had attained this excellence without a master, and Mons St. Quentin, as we were informed, had been so pleased with him, as to take him into his house. His temper and manners, however, were not in unison with his taste, and his benefactor had been compelled to restore him to his mother, but still intended to send him to study at Paris. The boy's countenance was a direct lie to Lavater; his air was heavy, and absolutely without intelligence. Mons. St. Quentin had dismissed him his house on account of a very malignant sally of passion: a horse having thrown him by accident, the young demon took a knife from his pocket, and deliberately stabbed him three several times. Such was a peasant boy, now seemingly enveloped in the interesting simplicity of Marmontel. How inconsistent is what is called character!