THE ESSAYIST. For the Poughkeepsie Casket. OMNIPOTENCE OF GOD DISPLAYED IN THE UNIVERSE. NO. II. rate of 25,000 miles in an hour. Jupiter, in his grand round, is accompanied by four moons, some of which are said to be as large as our world, all revolving around him at different times and distances, and with him wheeling their mighty courses round the sun. miles in diameter; it is therefore about one thousand times as large as the Earth, and travels in its orbit 21,000 miles in an hour. This planet is attended by seven moons. We have already observed that the world on SATURN is next in order, being nearly 900 milwhich we live contains more than 265,078 millions of miles from the sun, and about 80,000 lions of cubic miles a mighty mass of matter, which the mind is unable to realize to any definite degree. Yet, in our estimate of the quantity of matter which it contains, it is necessary to take into the account the myriads of living creatures that inhabit it, from the minutest insect to the huge elephant, and also to notice that it is inveloped on every side by an atmosphere about 900 times lighter than water, to the height of 45 miles. Thus we see that the world which we inhabit, when taken in all its parts, exhibits in a wonder. ful degree the OMNIPOTENCE OF GOD. Yet, af. ter all our investigation, and all our labored ef. forts to comprehend the mighty thought, we will find, by turning our attention to the amazing universe of God, that we have been inspecting but a very minute proportion of his works; but let it be remembered that we have no other standard by which we can compare the dimensions of other bodies, and estimate their magnitudes, but our earth. Here then let us take our position, and by the help of art and science, take a survey of the wonderful works of the Almighty. The next, and as far as has yet been discovered, the most remote planet in the system, is URANUS, or HERSCHELL, at the amazing distance of 1800 millions of miles from the sun; its diameter is 35,860 miles, and it moves in its orbit at the rate of 16,000 miles an hour. It is accompanied by six moons. With regard to the proportionate magnitude of the planets, the Earth is 14 times as large as Mercury, a very little larger than Venus, and three times as large as Mars. But Jupiter is more than 1400 times as large as the Earth; Saturn 1000 times as large, exclusive of his rings; and Uranus 80 times as large. Consequently, in the primary planets alone, exclusive of all other bodies, there is contained an amount of matter equal to 658,030,889,000,000 of solid miles. For the Poughkeepsie Casket. FROM LINES 'TO THE SUMMER BREEZE, BY J. B. J.' We can know nothing, definitely, of the magnitude and motions of the worlds which God has made and placed in their order amongst the constellations, in consequence of their being so ex-brow, I fondly welcome thee, all fresh and ceedingly remote. In our calculations, therefore, we are necessarily confined to the limits of the solar system, which consists of the sun in the centre, seven primary planets, four asteroids or minor planets, and eighteen secondary planets or moons, together with a considerable number of comets. MERCURY first claims our attention, it being, in the order of the system, nearest to the sun; its diameter is more than 3000 miles, and its solid contents in cubic miles about 15 millions. It is 37 millions of miles from the sun, and moves in its orbit at the amazing rate of 112,000 miles in an hour-that is, about 31 miles in one second of time. The next planet in the order of our system is VENUS. Her magnitude is nearly the same as our earth, being 900 miles in diameter. Her mean distance from the sun is 69 millions of miles, and she moves in her orbit at the rate of 75,000 miles in an hour. Next to Venus is our EARTH, at the distance of 95 millions of miles from the sun, and moving in her orbit with a velocity of 68,000 miles in an hour. sweet with perfume of the brightest flowerscoming in the gentle glow of mellow summer, with fairy step, to court the bloom of the seasons, ever straying in wanton gambols over the face of the sultry earth and gladsome sea; at this sweet hour of twilight I fondly welcome thee, for thy airy touch hath such a pleasant power. There is a music in thy voice that always speaks a language of thine own. When gorgeous sunset gilds the mirrored wave, and when the bosom of the wide waters is spread with lustre from the day-god's grave-surely thou hast caught some pure and gentle sound of liquid tone, some sweet murmur of the ocean-tide, while traversing the seas;-and in the mellow tones I think I hear the varied story of thy wanderings-a talk of some sweet maiden's lonely watch for the return of the speedy barque that should bring her lover; and to hear the maid repine at the still hour of night beneath the summer sky, wild rogue, thou hast veered the sails that hurried over the brine, and heard the maiden's sigh come over the wave! And thou hast gently fanned the pallid cheek of her over whom an anxious mother wept,-whose voice of melo. dy had ceased to speak, and whose once glad eye had long slept in darkness; and thou hast crept through the bars that confined some lone. ly prisoner, sent like a ministering angel, and lent to his crushed and saddened spirit a life of vigor which no chains could bind. Thou has swiftly borne upon thy bosom the welcome sound of a loving maiden's lute to him whose anxious breast was torn with doubt, and who deemed the For the Poughkeepsie Casket. SCRAPS FROM A DIARY.-NO. HI. ENTRANCE UPON THE WORLD. It is frequently with too much confidence in their own exertions and abilities, that young men and women just come to maturity, launch upon the world where few persons and things appear in their true character. Confident in your own experience and stability, you little dream of the shoals and quicksands which lie hidden in your path, and the trials, misfortunes and hardships that almost invariably overtake you. Now is the time that the turn your mind may take will fix your future happiness or eter. nal misery. How careful then should we be to guard ourselves, and gird on our armor for the contest; for in this world Vice hides her deform ity under the borrowed garb of Virtue. Every present pleasure usurps the name of happiness, and as such often deceives the youthful and in experienced. There is no room to doubt but sufficient care will be taken to give you a polite and fashionable education, but a religious one is of still greater importance. Necessary as the former may be for youth to make a proper figure in the world, and to make you acceptable in it. the latter is yet more so, to procure for you the approbation of the greatest and best of Beings, your Creator and Benefactor, on whose favor depends your earthly aud eternal happiness. Remember that from Him, the common Parent of the universe, you received your life-that to His kind providence you owe the continuance of it-and to His bounty you are indebted for all the health, ease, advantage and enjoyments which help to make that life agreeable. Let, therefore, your duty to God be ever the first and principal object of your care. As your creator and governor, He claims adoration and obedi ence as your father and friend, He demands submissive duty and affection. All the return you can make for innumerable blessings hourly bestowed, is a thankful acknowledgement and a willing obedience. As you value your own hap piness, let not the force of bad example lead you into extravagances and indulgences of which you may, when too late, repent. You cannot be too careful in choosing your companions, for from these, habits are often times contracted and principles imbibed, which may not only prove detrimental to your worldly, but your eternal in terest. To sum up in a few words, Love AND FEAR YOUR GOD. Persevere in the practice of religious duties, though man may scoff and ridi. cule. The sincere practice of religious duties naturally lead to the proper discharge of the so cial, which may be comprehended in that one great and general rule, of doing' unto others as Next to the Earth, in the order of the system, is MARS, distant from the sun 143 millions of miles; its diameter is 4,189 miles, and it moves in its orbit at the rate of 53,000 miles an hour. The next planet that demands our attention is the mighty JUPITER, much the largest of all the planets, its diameter being more than ten times that of our Earth-i. e. 89,170 miles; consequently its magnitude is about 1400 times that of the Earth. Its distance from the sun is 490 || voice of his loved one forever silent, and spread || you would they should do to you.' millions of miles, and it moves in its orbit at the the glow of revived hope over his raptured heart Poughkeepsie, Augest, 1838. A. From the Youth's (N. Y.) Magazine. POUGHKEEPSIE COLLEGIATE SCHOOL. JOHN DELAFIELD, Esq, President. Rev. F. W. HATCH, J.VAN BENTHUYSEN, Esq., CHARLES BARTLETT, A. M., Principal. the azure summits of the Catskills, reared to the POUGHKEEPSIE COLLEGIATE clouds, stretch away to the north, a distance of SCHOOL. Among the numerous and flourishing literary institutions of our country, the POUGHKEEPSIE COLLEGIATE SCHOOL has already attained a high rank, and enjoys an enviable reputation for every attraction which an intellectual nursery for American youth should possess. Its situation is truly a noble one; standing upon an eminence commanding an extensive view of almost every variety of feature necessary to the perfection of a beautiful landscape. It is about a mile from the Hudson river, and half a mile from the business part of the village. From the colonnade which entirely surrounds it, the eye of the spectator can compass a circuit of nearly fifty miles. On the south, at a distance of twenty miles, the Highlands terminate the view, within which an apparent plain stretches to their base, covered with highly cultivated farms, neat mansions, and thriving villages. Similar scenery meets the eye on the east, but more undulating. On the west and north, the Hudson rolls on in its pride and beauty, dotted with the sails of inland commerce, and numer. ous steamboats, all laden with the products of industry and of busy men. In the dim distance, Rev. JOHN REED, Dr. JOHN BARNES, Rev. S. VAN VRANKEN, THOMAS TABOR, Esq., take a ride about the suburbs, to witness the various improvements, then progressing. Alightforty miles, where the far-famed Mountaining at the base of the hill on which the School House' is distinctly seen, like a pearl in their now stands, they ascended it, and while so doing, towering crest, at an elevation of nearly three Mr. Bartlett was, (as he had been before,) solithousand feet above the river. At our feet, like cited to take charge of our Academy for boys, a beautiful panorama, lies the village of Pough. but, as before, declined. When they reached keepsie, with its churches, its literary institu- the summit of the hill, and were gazing with tions, and various improvements in view, indica. admiration upon the scene around them, Mr. ting the existence of a liberal spirit of well-di-B. remarked, 'What a beautiful place this would rected enterprise. Nowhere,' said an ardent be for a literary institution;' to which Mr. Tall. champion of popular education, recently, is nature more cloquent, than from that eminence; and there, I may add, may the student of letters receive with grateful satisfaction, her impressive lessons, portrayed in characters not to be misunderstood, upon the fresh green fields, the towering mountains, the sheen of a lovely river, or the broad dome of heaven, when night spreads its mantle of shade over the earth. madge immediately replied, "Will you take charge of one, if established?' 'I will,' was the prompt answer, and ten days after, a meeting of a few enterprizing citizens was held, the ground bought for the sum of $12,000, and in a very short time, contracts were made for the erection of a building. In October, the following year, it was completed, and in November ensuing the School was opened under the suThe Collegiate School was first projected in perintendence of Mr. Bartlett, assisted by eight During the first term, the spring of 1835, under circumstances some-competent teachers. what peculiar, and which show from what small there were fifty pupils; the second, eighty-four; beginnings great results sometimes follow. Mr. the third ninety-four; and the present or fourth term, there are one hundred and eight. The Chas. Bartlett, the present Principal, while on a visit here, was invited by the Hon. N. P. Tall-capacity of the school for accommodations, is madge, and one or two other gentlemen, to To the liberal enterprize of this gentleman, in connexion for about one hundred. with others less publicly known, our village is greatly indebted for its flourishing literary institutions. The building is modelled after the Parthenon at Athens, and is thirty-five by one hundred and fifteen feet in size, exclusive of the colonnade; inclusive, seventy-seven by one hundred and thirty-seven feet. It cost, exclusive of the ground, about forty thousand dollars. Its interior arrangement is simple, but elegant || and convenient. There are two sets of apartments, one for the purposes of the school, the other for a family. The apartment for the school consists, in the basement, of two large halls for recreation during inclement weather. These halls are surrounded with small rooms, containing wardrobe, toilettes, &c. for the pupils, two or three occupying one room. At the end of the east hall is situated a general wardrobe and bathing room, under the care of a matron; at the end of the west hall are the dining room, the ironing room, &c., in the rear of which are the kitchen, pantries, cellar, washroom, &c. On the second floor is the school-room, which has on the north side three recitation rooms, and in its rear the library and cabinet, monitor's room, and a small recitation room. The family apartment is also upon this floor, and contains two large parlors, a sitting room, nursery, and a spacious hall. In the second story is the dormitory; each pupil occupies a cot in a recess, by himself, secured from view in front by a curtain. At the southern extremity of this dormitory, are study rooms for the teachers, who necessarily exercise a salutary supervision over the pupils. The family part of this story consists of five bedrooms. The attic is finished for rooms, and a part of the family, including some of the smaller boys, are there comfortably lodged. dio. Murillo was not yet there, and each of 'Pray, gentlemen,' exclaimed Isturiz angrily,|| 'What an absurd question! replied Cordova, 'don't you recollect that we all came away together?" "This is a foolish jest, gentlemen,' answered Isturez; 'last evening I cleaned my palette with the greatest care, and now it is as dirty as if some one had used it all night.' 'It could not, however, come here without hands,' said Murillo, impatiently. 'I think, sir,' said Cordavo, the youngest of the pupils, 'that these strange pictures are very alarming; indeed, this is not the first unaccount. able event which has happened in your studio. To tell the truth, such wonderful things have happened here, one scarcely knows what to be. lieve.' 'What are they?' asked Murillo, still lost in admiration of the head of the Virgin by the unknown artist. 'According to your orders, senor,' answered Ferdinand, we never leave the studio without 'Look! exclaimed Carlos, here is a small putting every thing in order, cleaning our pal. figure in the corner of my canvass, and it is not ettes, washing our brushes, and arranging our badly done. I should like to know who it is easels; but when we return in the morning, not that amuses himself every morning with sketch- only is every thing in confusion, our brushes filing figures sometimes on my canvass, some-led with paint, our palettes dirtied, but here and times on the walls. There was one yesterday on your easel, Ferdinand.' It must be Isturiz,' said Ferdinand. You need not protest,' replied Carlos, we all 'At least,' answered Isturiz, I have never made a sketch as bad as that of yours-one would think that you had done it in jest.' 'And my pencils are quite wet,' said Gonzalo in his turn. Truly, strange things go on here during the night" 'Do you not think, like the negro Gomez, that that it is the Zombi who comes and plays all these tricks?" said Isturiz. 'Truly,' said Mendez, 'who had not yet spcken, being absorbed in admiration of the various figures which were sketched with the hand of a master in different parts of the studio, if the Zombi of the negroes draws in this man. ner, he would make a beautiful head of the Virgin in my Descent from the Cross.' With these words, Mendez, with a careless ed in mute surprise upon his canvass, on which The government of the School is parental; and while the pupil may there receive instruction in every branch of education, taught in|| incorporated and endowed colleges, he is sub. jected to a moral influence unknown in many of them, and entirely satisfactory to the most air, approached his easel, when an exclamafastidious parent. Possessed of a highly culti-tion of astonishment escaped him, and he gazvated mind, a moral character without blemish, religion without bigotry, and a quick perception of the various intellectual features and dispositions of those under his care, the Princi. pal manages his institution with deserved success. His dignity is tempered with so pleasing a familiarity, that affectionate reverence is the controlling power that keeps his pupils in the path of duty. This is no fulsome adulation, but a just tribute to the worth of an excellent man; and I doubt not that men will hereafter shine in the elevated circles of the great, the wise, and the good, who will refer with gratitude to the time when the moral precepts of Mr. BARTLETT im. bued the whole soul of the boy with a laudable ambition to become truly excellent in those qualities of the head and heart which consti. The pupils turned at the sound, and all made a 'Look, Senor Murillo, look exclaimed the youths, as they pointed to the easel of Men dez. there are sketches, (beautiful sketches to be sure they are,) sometimes as the head of an angel, sometimes of a demon, then again the profile of a young girl, or the figure of an old man, but all admirable, as you have seen yourself, senor.' "This is certainly a curious, affair, gentlemen,' said Murillo; but we shall soon learn who is this nightly visitant. Sabastian,' he continued, ad. dressing a mulatto boy about fourteen years old, who appeared at his call, 'did I not desire you to sleep here every night?' 'Yes, master,' said the boy, with timidity. 'Speak, then, who was here last night and this morning, before these gentlemen came? Speak, slave, or I shall make you acquainted with my dungeon,' said Murillo angrily to the boy, who continued to twist the band of his trowsers without replying. 'Ah, you don't choose to answer,' said Muril. lo, pulling his ear. 'No one, master, no one,' replied the trembling Sebastian, with eagerness. "That is false,' exclaimed Murillo. 'No one but me, I swear to you, master,' cried the mulatto, throwing himself on his knees, in the middle of the studio, and holding out his hands in supplication before his master. 'Listen to me,' pursued Murillo. I wish to know who has sketched this head of the Virgin, and all the figures which my pupils find every morning here on coming into the studio. This night, in place of going to bed, you shall keep watch; and if by to-morrow you do not discover who the culprit is, you shall have twenty-five strokes from lash. You hear-I have said it. Now, go and grind the colors—and you, gentlemen, to work.' From the commencement till the termination 'Who has painted this-who has painted this head, gentlemen?" asked Murillo, eagerly. of the hour of instruction, Murillo was too much Speak, tell me. He who has sketched this absorbed with his pencil to allow a word to be Virgin, will one day be the master of us all. spoken but what regarded their occupation, but Murillo wishes he had done it. What a touch! the moment he disappeared, the pupils made awhat delicacy! what skill! Mendez, my dear mends for this restraint; and as the unknown pupil, was it you?" painter occupied all their thoughts, the conver 'No, senor,' replied Mendez, in a sorrowful sation naturally turned to that subject. 'Beware, Sebastian,' of the lash, said Mendez, 'Was it you then, Isturiz, or Ferdinand, or and watch well for the culprit—but give me the Carlos ?' tone. But they all gave the same reply as Mendez. Naples yellow.' You do not need it, Senor Mendez, you have made it yellow enough already; and as to the *Are these negroes fools or asses, with their Zombi?' said Gonzalo, laughing; 'pray, what is a Zombi?' culprit, I have already told you that it is the eyes to the dome of the studio, through which awaiting in silence the punishment he believed Zombi.' the stars glittered, 'God! I pray constantly to he justly merited. For some time a dead si. Him, my father, (and He will one day listen to lence prevailed; for if Sebastian was confoundme,) that we may no longer be slaves. Buted at being caught in the commission of such go to bed, father,-go, and I shall go to mine a flagrant crime, Murillo and his pupils were there, in that corner, and I shall soon fall a not less astonished at the discovery they had sleep. Good night, father-good night.' made. 'Oh, an imaginary being, of course. But take care, Senor Gonzalo,' continued Sebastain, with a mischievous glance at his easel, for it must be the Zombi who has stretched the left arm of your St. John to such a length, that, if his right resembles it, he will be able to untie shoe-strings without stooping,' 'Do you know, gentlemen,' said Isturiz, as he glanced at the painting, "that the remarks are extremely just, and much to the point?' "Oh, they say that negroes have the face of an -ape and the tongue of a parrot,' rejoined Gonzalo, in a tone of indifference. With this distinction,' observed Ferdinand, 'that the parrot repeats by rote, while Sebastian has judgement in his remarks.' 1 'Are you really not afraid of the Zombi, Sebastian?' 'My father, that is a superstition of our country. Father Eugenio has assured me that God does not permit supernatural beings to appear on earth.' 'Why then, when the pupils ask you who sketched the figures they find here every morning, did you say it was the Zombi ?' To amuse myself, father, and to make them laugh; that was all.' "Then good night, my son;' and, having kissed the boy, the regro retired. The moment Sebastian found himself alone, 'Like the parrot, by chance,' retorted Gon- he uttered an exclamation of joy. Then sudzalo. denly checking himself, he said, 'Twenty-five lashes to-morrow if I do not tell who sketched these figures, and perhaps more, if I do. Oh, my, God! come to my aid " And he threw himself upon the mat which served him for a bed, where he soon fell fast asleep. 'Who knows,' said Mendez, who had not yet digested the Naples yellow, 'that from grinding the colors, he may one day astonish us, by showing he knows one from another.' To know one color from another, and to know how to use them, are two very different things,' replied Sebastian, whom the liberty of the studio allowed to join in the conversation of the pupils; and truth obliges us to confess his taste was so exquisite, his eye so correct, that many did not disdain to follow the advice he fre quently gave them respecting their painting. Although they sometimes amused themselves by teasing the little mulatto, he was a great favorite of them all; and this evening, on quitting the studio, each giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder, counselled him to keep a strict watch, and catch the Zombi, for fear of the lash. Sebastian awoke at daybreak-it was only three o'clock-any other boy would probably have gone to sleep again. Not so Sebastian, who had but three hours he could call his own. 'Courage, courage, Sebastian,' he exclaimed, as he shook himself awake; three hours are thine-only three hours, oh then profit by them; the rest belong to thy master, slave! Let me at least be my own master for three short hours. To begin: these figures must be effaced!' and, seizing a brush, he approached the Virgin, which, viewed by the soft light of the morning dawn, appeared more beautiful than ever. Efface this! he exclaimed, 'efface this! No, I will die first. Efface this! they dare notneither dare I. No-that head-she breathes she speaks. It seems as if her blood would flow, if I should offer to efface it, and that should be her murderer. No-rather let me finish it.' I It was night, and the studio of Murillo, the most celebrated painter in Seville-this studio, which during the day was so cheerful and ani. mated-was now silent as the grave. A single lamp burned upon the table, and a young boy whose sable hue harmonized with the surrounding darkness, but whose eyes sparkled like diamonds at midnight, leant against an easel. ImScarcely had he uttered these words, when, moveable and still, he was so deeply absorbed in seizing a palette, he seated himself at the easel, his meditations, that the door of the studio was and was soon totally absorbed in his occupation. opened by one who several times called him by Hour after hour passed unheed by Sebastian, who name, and who, on receiving no answer, ap. was too much engrossed by the beautiful creaproached and touched him. Sebastian raised ture of his pencil, which seemed bursting into his eyes, which rested on a tall and handsome life, to mark the flight of time. touch,' he exclaimed-'a soft shade here-now negro. Why do you come here, father?' said he, in a the mouth. Yes, there! it opens-those eyesmelancholy tone. To keep you company, Sebastian.' "There is no need, father-I can watch alone.' 'But what if the Zombi should come?' 'I do not fear him,' replied the boy, with a pensive smile. 'He may carry you away, my son, and then the poor negro Gomez will have no one to console him in his slavery.' 'Oh, how sad!-how dreadful it is to be a slave exclaimed the boy, weeping bitterly. 'It is the will of God,' replied the negro, with an air of resignation. "God" ejaculated Sebastian, as he raised his 'Another they pierce me through!-what a forehead! what delicacy! Oh, my beautiful- -and Sebastian forgot the hour, forgot he was a slave, forgot his dreadful punishment—all, all was obliterated from the soul of the youthful artist, who thought of nothing, saw nothing, but his beautiful picture. But who can describe the horror and conster. nation of the unhappy slave, when, on sudden. ly turning round, he beheld all the pupils, with his master at their head, standing beside him. Sebastian never once dreamed of justifying himself, and with his palette in one hand, and his brushes in the other, he hung down his head, Murillo, having with a gesture of the hand imposed silence on his pupils, who could hardly restrain themselves from giving way to their admiration, approached Sebastian, and concealing his emotion, said in a cold and severe tone, while he looked alternately from the beautiful head of the Virgin to the terrified slave, who stood like a statue before him 'Who is your master, Sebastian ?' 'You,' replied the boy, in a voice scarcely audible. 'I mean your drawing master,' said Murillo. 'You, senor,' again replied the trembling slave. 'It cannot be I never gave you lessons,' said the astonished painter. 'But you gave them to others, and I listened to them,' rejoined the boy, emboldened by the kindness of his master. And you have done better than listen-you have profited by them,' exclaimed Murillo, unable longer to conceal his admiration. 'Gente. tlemen, does this boy merit punishment or reward?' At the word punishment, Sebastian's heart beat quick-the word reward gave him a little courage, but fearing that his ears deceived him, he looked with timid and imploring eyes towards his master. 'A reward, senor,' cried the pupils in a breath. "That is well-but what shall it be?' Sebastian began to breathe. "Ten ducats, at least,' said Mendez. Fifteen,' cried Ferdinand. 'No,' said Gonzalo, 'a beautiful new dress for . the next holiday.' 'Speak, Sebastian,' said Murillo, looking at his slave, whom none of these rewards seemed to move, ‘are none of these things to your taste? Tell me what you wish for-I am much pleased with your beautiful composition, and will grant any request you may make. Speak then, do not be afraid.' 'Oh, master, if I dared'→ said Sebastian, clasping his hands, and falling at the feet of his master. half aloud, 'I would risk something-ask your|| the color of the paper; the secondary lights, || any red object, add a little more Lake. freedom, Sebastian.' At these words, Sebastian uttered a cry of anguish, and raising his eyes to his master, he exclaimed, in a voice choked with sobs, 'The freedom of my father-the freedom of my father " 'And thine also,' said Murillo, who, no longer able to conceal his emotion, threw his arms around Sebastian, and pressed him to his breast. 'Your pencil,' he continued, 'shows that you have talent-your request proves that you have a heart-the artist is complete. From this day consider yourself not only as my pupil, but as my son. Happy Murillo! I have done more than paint-I have made a painter.' Murillo kept his word, and Sebastian Gomez, better known under the name of the Mulatto of Murillo, became one of the most celebrated painters in Spain. There may yet be seen in the churches of Seville the celebrated picture which he had been found painting by his mas ter; also a St. Anne, admirably done; a holy Joseph, which is extremely beautiful; and others, of the highest order. such as fall obliquely upon any surface, should be made rather thinner, so as to show in some slight degree the surface of the paper. The shades of distant hills and other objects should be laid on very light, and strengthened gradually as it is applied to objects nearer the foreground; while those immediately in the foreground must be almost a dead black. Such sketches are soon made, have a very pleasing effect, and will greatly assist you in your more complicated labors of making finished colored drawings. We will now proceed to the use of VARIOUS COLORS. There are but three primitive colors, from which all others are made; these are yellow, blue and red. From these, four compounds are made. First, from the union of yellow and blue is formed green; secondly, red and yellow forms orange; thirdly, read and blue forms purple; and fourthly, by the union of all the primitives a grey is formed, of different tints. This constitutes twelve colors, which are all that are necessary, although there are thirty different kinds manufactured. The twelve kinds necessary for use are designated as follows: Indigo, Prussian Blue, Yellow Ochre, Italian Pink, For the light parts of bricks, tiles, &c., Ve. netian Red, and a very small proportion of Raw Umber and Indigo. Venetian Red alone is good for the light parts of tiled roofs, &c. BIOGRAPHY. B. J. L For the Poughkeepsie Casket. REV. MARTIN RUTER, A. M., D. D. Public men are truly public property. Community has a perfect right to scan their public acts, and also to demand of them the entire de. votion of their abilities for the general good. And when this course is pursued, such publicmen will either fall by the indignation of an insulted people, or if they stand the scrutiny of a discerning community, will rise to eminence and honor. The individual whose name stands at the head of this article, was one whose character was as strictly scrutinized as any other man; and none, we may venture to say, ever passed a public life of thirty-seven years, that made more friends or fewer enemies. MARTIN RUTER was born in Charlton, Mass., In one of Casimir de la Vigne's dramas, I met with an expression which struck me forcibly. Venetian Red, Lake, Burnt Sienna, Raw Umber, It was said of Don Juan, who was ignorant of Van Dyke Brown, Sepia, Lamp Black, and April, 1785. In 1800 he was licensed to preach his birth, that perhaps he was a nobody; to which he replied, that 'a man of good character and honorable conduct could never be a nobody.' I consider this an admirable reply, and I have endeavored to prove this truth by the foregoing example. Children born of obscure and indigent parents, rise by their own talents and perseverance, to the first rank of society. If it is gratifying and noble to bear with honor the name of one's father, it is surely more noble to make name for one's self; and my heart tells me that among my young readers, there is more than one who will exclaim, with ardor, and with a firm resolution to fulfil his promise, 'I TOO SHALL MAKE A NAME.' For bright parts of foliage, Italian pink and Indigo. For light tints of stone buildings, clayey roads, &c., Yellow Ochre with a very small pro: portion of Lake and Indigo. For roads, earth, wood, boats, buildings, &c., Raw Umber and Lake. For a shading color for the same purpose, add a little Indigo. The tint may be strengthened by the addition of Indigo. When quite dark, it is good for shading bark of trees, old palings, stones, &c. &c. For bricks and tiles in deep shade, Lake, Indigo and Raw Umber. For the shade side of the Gospel by the constituted authorities of the Methodist Episcopal Church, being at that time not quite sixteen years of age. Although At that carly day of his ministry, he was counted so young in years, yet he was a man in mind. an able defender of the great truths of the Gos pel. During a sermon which he preached to the young people about this time, twenty-eight individuals were awakened to a sense of the great concerns of their souls, and ever after 2 dorned the doctrines of their Saviour. He had only the advantages of a district school in ob taining an education. From this time he commenced a course of study, which he pursued without any teacher, till the wheels of life stood still. He was emphatically a self taught man. In 1818, he received the degree of Master of Arts. In 1819, he was elected Principal of a seminary of learning of high repute, in NewHampshire. In 1822, without his solicitation, conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Divinor even knowledge, the Transylvania University ity. In 1828, he was elected President of Au gusta College, and in 1834, was elected President of Alleghany College, which office he held with much honor till 1837, when he was appointed Su perintendent of the Missions of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Texas, at which post he fell in May last, and has gone to reap his re ward on high. Dr. Ruter was a great man in more than one sense of that term. No person of ordinary caout feeling sensible that he was in the presence pacity could long remain in his company withof a man of more than ordinary powers of and respectable. But his chief greatness was mind. His literary productions are numerous his goodness. One who knew him for thirtyeight years, said of him, he was never guilty of his death the community has lost a great light, a crime, nor reproved for an imprudent act. By and the M. E. Church one of her most able and beloved ministers. But our loss is his gain. Poughkeepsie, September, 1588. A. S. C. |