affected by that climate. Not having entirely recovered from this attack, he determined on a visit to his native place, and on the 17th of September arrived at Possagno. Unfortunately, the journey was too severe for his constitution, and aggravated the complaint under which he labored. He was very ill on his arrival, but did not take to his bed, expecting relief from his native air and the waters of Recodro. All was unavailing. On the 4th of October Canova arrived at Venice, intending to stay there a few days; but, continuing to get gradually worse, he received the last offices of religion, and resigned himself to die with the utmost constancy and serenity, uttering only short sentences of a pious character to those who attended him. Approaching his end, he said to those who moistened his dying lips, "Good, very good; but it is in vain." His last words were, "Pure and lovely spirit." These he uttered several times just before he expired. He spoke no more; but his visage became, and continued for some time, highly radiant and expressive, as if his mind was absorbed in some sublime conception, creating powerful and unusual emotions in all around him.

Canova was a man of the most amiable and conciliatory manners, extremely friendly and gentle toward his fellow-artists, and encouraging and liberal toward the numerous students who filled his studio. To several of the latter, whose means were scanty, he gave pensions, to enable them to prosecute their studies. He also established out of his own purse a handsome premium for sculpture in the Academy of St. Luke at Rome, of which he was president. In personal appearance Canova was rather below the common stature, and toward the close of his life stooped as he walked. His features were strongly-marked, but well-formed, his nose aquiline, and his eyes deeply set and full of expression. The general expression of his countenance was genial and pleasing.

Concerning the merit of his works, a competent critic remarks that, in execution and the whole treatment of his marble, Canova was unrivaled; but those who judge of sculpture by the pure principles of Greek art (or, in other words, of nature, selected and exhibited in its finest and most approved forms), will discover in many of his works some affectation, both in the attitudes and expression, and a littleness in some of the details, which are not in accordance with the simplicity and breadth of style of the best

productions of the ancients. Admitting this to be the case (particularly in some of his later performances), still his works evince so great a progress in art, and in many respects approach so much more nearly than those that had for a long period preceded them to the excellence of ancient sculpture, that Canova must be confessed to be one of the great regenerators of the art; and his name, as the restorer of a purer style of design, will always be held in honor by those who wish to see sculpture practiced upon true principles.

PHILIP VAYRINGE.

MECHANICAL genius of a high order is a gift so rare in the world, that the few men who have possessed it in an eminent degree are certainly worthy of remembrance. The subject of this sketch, although unknown in the present century, was in his day considered remarkable enough to merit the appellation of the Lotharingian Archimedes. Philip Vayringe was a native of Lorraine, born in 1684 at Nouilloupont, a small village which is situated in the department of the Meuse, between Longwy and Verdun. He was one of a large family, and at an early age experienced harsh treatment from a step-mother, which induced him to run away from home. It was his intention on this occasion (he was ten years old, and could scarcely spell his name correctly) to make a pilgrimage to Rome; but, before he got very far on his way, he met two of his schoolfellows, who prevailed on him to return to the paternal roof. Philip, however, became so enamored of the town of Metz, through which they passed, that he gave his companions the slip, and made up his mind to remain there. Strolling about the town, he was first attracted by the operations of a locksmith, who sat working at his bench near the open window. Observing the youth's curiosity, the artisan spoke to him, asked him some commonplace questions, and finally wound up by offering to take him into his employ at the liberal stipend of tenpence a month. Philip accepted the terms on condition that he should be allowed to try to make a lock. The permission was, of course, readily granted, and he succeeded so well that an addition was at once made to his wage. In six months he had become so familiar with the business that he found no difficulty in getting employment at three times the price paid him by his first master.

In the following winter he returned to Nouilloupont, residing this time with a brother-in-law, who was at once a gunsmith and edge-tool maker. Philip was, of course, useful in such a shop, but a circumstance soon occurred which diverted his attention from the fabrication of locks. A clock was brought in to be re

paired, and its delicate mechanism filled Philip with admiration. It was only left in the shop for an hour.and a half, but in this short time he had fixed all the parts in his mind, and knew exactly on what principle it worked. A few months afterward he made a successful copy of this clock, much to the astonishment of the simple villagers. He was now determined to be a clockmaker, and, with twenty-five shillings in his purse, started for Nancy, the capital of Lorraine. There was but one clock-maker in the place, and, as he had three sons, there was no opening for Philip. He was fortunate, however, in finding a friend in a Parisian master locksmith and worker in iron, who had come to Nancy to fabricate a highly-ornamental gate for the choir of the Benedictine church. This person having shown him his designs, Philip requested that he would teach him how to draw similar ones with a pen, and carry them into execution. His kind friend immediately offered to take him into his employ at a salary of ten shillings a month, and to give him all the instruction in his power. He was thus employed for twelve months. In the mean time, he did not forget the subject of horology. His employer possessed the unusual treasure of a watch, so valuable in those days that it was actually the first Philip had seen. Anxious to penetrate the mystery of its intricate workings, he begged permission to examine it. His request was complied with by his kind friend, who seemed to place implicit confidence in the ingenuity of the youth. Philip hurried home in triumph, and in no time had the watch to pieces, and discovered the object of all its movements, making drawings of those which he could not sufficiently remember. He succeeded in putting the fragments together again, and in restoring the watch to its owner in perfectly good condition. The result of his various investigations was an extremely ingenious clock, which he made in his leisure moments, and for which he had to fabricate tools. It was nine inches in height and six in width, and had four different movements: hours, quarters, striking, and chimes. The chimes played an air every hour, while the image of the Savior, followed by the twelve apostles, passed across a gallery. Nearly a year was spent in forming this complicated piece of mechanism, but it brought him much renown, and, better still, was indirectly the means of procuring him a very advantageous wife, a charming young orphan of fourteen (he was twenty-seven), with two thousand dollars in cash. They lived

long and happily together, and did the state some service by bringing into the world no fewer than nineteen children.

About a year after his marriage he started in business on his own account. His shop was distinguished by a sign of his own invention, which, he tells us, was admired as a masterpiece. It was probably a piece of mechanism, but he has left us no description of its character or appearance. Having borrowed some tools, he immediately set about making a watch, similar to the one he had borrowed from his Parisian friend and employer. He accomplished his task successfully in eighteen days. Customers soon became numerous, but he found that a Parisian reputation was necessary, and he determined, therefore, to visit the capital of France. Furnished with letters of introduction to several of the most important watch - makers in the metropolis, he set out. Many men would have deemed a limited apprenticeship desirable under such circumstances, and Vayringe was of that opinion, but he limited the apprenticeship to one day; that is to say, he requested a person to whom he was recommended to allow him to work in his shop for a single day. He found out all he wanted in that time, and, having visited the shops of the most eminent watch-makers, purchased tools and materials, and amused himself with contemplating the wonders of Versailles, he returned to his home after a fortnight's absence.

The first thing he did on his return was to imitate the machinery he had seen in the workshops of Paris, adding many improvements of his own which were of obvious utility. His reputation was now established, and business pressed in upon him in the most satisfactory manner. With increased resources, he gave free rein to his invention, and indulged in the fabrication of many curious machines not actually useful or actually useless. Among other things, he endeavored, like all ingenious men of his time, to solve the problem of perpetual motion. While thus occupied, he succeeded in making many very simple movements, and, "among others, those of an eight-day clock with only three wheels, and which nevertheless struck the hours and half hours, and repeated them, and, besides, indicated the revolution and the various phases of the moon." He finished, also, a watch which repeated the hours and quarters, though it had merely the wheels of a common watch. He worked likewise at all sorts of mathematical instruments, both for engineers and geographers.