Chapter V: Part 5

The original manuscript of the Declaration of Independence made and signed by the revolutionary patriots of Harford County, Maryland, at a meeting held at Harford Town on March 22, 1775, is still in existence. This declaration is older than that of Mecklenburg, North Carolina, which was made in May, 1775, and antedates by more than a year the Declaration of Independence by the Continental Congress, July 4, 1776. Harford Town is Bush of the present day, and the house in which the meeting was held was an old tavern stand, the ruins of which are yet to be seen at Bush.

_Punctuation_

The invention of the modern system of punctuation has been attributed to the Alexandrian grammarian Aristophanes, after whom it was improved by succeeding grammarians; but it was so entirely lost in the time of Charlemagne that he found it necessary to have it restored by Warnesfried and Alouin. It consisted at first of only one point used in three ways, and sometimes of a stroke formed in several ways; but as no particular rules were followed in the use of these signs, punctuation was exceedingly uncertain until the end of the fifteenth century, when the learned Venetian printers, the Manutii, increased the number of the signs and established some fixed rules for their application. These were so generally adopted that we may consider the Manutii as the inventors of the present method of punctuation; and, although modern grammarians have introduced some improvements, nothing but a few particular rules have been added since their time.

_Sleeping-Cars_

The first sleeping-cars ever designed were used on the Cumberland Valley Railroad, between Harrisburg and Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. They were built in the year 1838, and ran for several years. One end of the car was arranged in the ordinary way, with day seats, the other end was fitted up with eighteen sleeping-berths for the night, which were changed for the day’s running, so as to make omnibus-seats on each side of the car. There were three lengths of berths, and three tiers on each side. The top tier of berths hoisted on a hinge, and was secured by rope supports to the ceiling of the car. The middle tier consisted of the back of the omnibus-seat, hinged, and supported in the same manner. The lower tier was the day seat along the side of the car. At that period, there were two coach-loads of passengers arriving by turnpike road nightly from Pittsburg; and they were very glad to have the benefit of the sleeper during the four hours then occupied between Chambersburg and Harrisburg, on the old plate rail. There was no charge for sleeping accommodations.

_Eve’s Mirror_

If we are to believe Milton, our mother Eve was the first of the race to use a mirror:

“That day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how;
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved,
Pure as the expanse of heaven: I thither went
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down
On the green bank to look into the clear,
Smooth lake, that to me seemed another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite
A shape within the watery gleam appeared
Bending to look on me. I started back;
It started back; but pleased I soon returned;
Pleased it returned as soon with answering looks
Of sympathy and love. There I had fixed
Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,
Had not a voice thus warned me, ‘What thou seest,
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;
With thee it came and goes.’”

_Order of the Garter_

When Salisbury’s famed countess was dancing with glee,
Her stocking’s security fell from her knee.
Allusions and hints, sneers and whispers, went round;
The trifle was scouted, and left on the ground;
When Edward the Brave, with true soldier-like spirit,
Cried, “The garter is mine, ’tis the order of merit:
The first knights in my court shall be happy to wear—
Proud distinction!—the garter that fell from the fair;
While in letters of gold—’tis your monarch’s high will—
Shall there be inscribed, ‘Ill to him that thinks ill.’”

_Coffee_

In 1669 Soliman Agu, ambassador from the sultan, Mahomet IV., arrived in Paris, and established the custom of drinking coffee. A Greek, named Pasco, had already opened a coffee-house in London in 1652. The first mention of coffee in the English statute-books occurs in 1660, when a duty of fourpence was laid upon every gallon made and sold.

_Billiards_

The game of billiards was invented about the middle of the sixteenth century by a London pawnbroker named William Kew. In wet weather this pawnbroker was in the habit of taking down the three balls, and with the yard-measure pushing them, billiard-fashion, from the counter into the stalls. In time, the idea of a board with side-pockets suggested itself. A black-letter manuscript says, “Master William Kew did make one board whereby a game is played with three balls; and all the young men were greatly recreated thereat, chiefly the young clergymen from St. Pawles: hence one of ye strokes was named a ‘canon,’ having been by one of ye said clergymen invented. The game is now known by the name of ‘bill-yard,’ because William or Bill Kew did first play with the yard-measure. The stick is now called a ‘kew,’ or ‘kue.’” It is easy to comprehend how “bill-yard” has been modernized into “billiard,” and the transformation of “kew,” or “kue,” into “cue” is equally apparent.

_Cheap Postage_

The idea of cheap postage was suggested by a trivial incident. Rowland Hill, who was the father of cheap postage, on one occasion saw a poor woman, whose husband had sent her a letter, take it from the carrier, look earnestly at the outside, and then hand it back, declining to receive it, as the postage was too great. He expressed his sympathy; but, when the postman was gone, she explained to him that the letter was all on the outside. Her husband and herself had agreed on certain signs and tokens, to be conveyed by various changes in the address; so that she could thus tell whether he was sick or well, or was coming home soon, or similar important intelligence. Mr. Hill thought it a pity that the poor should be driven to such expedients; and accordingly, in 1837, he urged, in the most strenuous manner upon the government of Great Britain, a system of cheap postage, which, two years later, was adopted.

_Postage Stamps_

The postage stamp made its first appearance in 1839. Its invention is due to James Chalmers, a printer of Dundee, who died in 1853. England adopted the adhesive stamp, according to a decree of December 21, 1839, and issued the first stamps for public use on May 6, 1840. A year later they were introduced in the United States and Switzerland, and soon afterwards in Bavaria, Belgium, and France.

_A Boston “Merchantman”_

Captain Kempthorn, in Longfellow’s “New England Tragedies,” back in 1665, the time of Quaker persecution, coined a now familiar phrase. He speaks of

“A solid man of Boston,
A comfortable man, with dividends,
And the first salmon and the first green peas.”

_Theatrical Deadheads_

In the National Museum at Naples is a case of theatre tickets found in the tragic theatre at Pompeii. They are variously made in bone, ivory, and metal. To this day the upper gallery of an Italian theatre is called the pigeon loft. The little tickets for the Pompeiian gallery were in the shape of pigeons, while varying devices were used for other parts of the house. But what attracts the most curious attention is a set of diminutive skulls modelled in ivory. These were used solely by those having the privilege of _free admission_, a fact suggestive of the possible derivation of the term deadhead.

_Dollar_

Few persons have ever troubled themselves to think of the derivation of the word dollar. It is from the German thal (valley), and came into use in this way some 300 years ago. There is a little silver mining city or district in northern Bohemia called Joachimstal, or Joachim’s Valley. The reigning duke of the region authorized this city in the sixteenth century to coin a silver piece which was called “joachimsthaler.” The word “joachim” was soon dropped and the name “thaler” only retained. The piece went into general use in Germany and also in Denmark, where the orthography was changed to “daler,” whence it came into English, and was adopted by our forefathers with some changes in the spelling.

_Marriage in Church_

Not until the time of the Reformation was marriage sanctioned as a rite to be fittingly performed within a church. Prior to this the customary place was at the door of the church, and not within the sacred enclosure. This rule appears to have been transgressed, but until the first Prayer Book of Edward VI. (1549), the rubric of the Sarum Manual was in use, which directed that the man and the woman about to be married should be placed before the door of the church. It was considered indecent to unite in wedlock within the church itself. Chaucer, in his “Canterbury Tales” (1383), alludes to this custom in his “Wife of Bath:”

“She was a worthy woman all her live,
Husbands at the Church door had she five.”

So late as 1559 Elizabeth, daughter of Henry II. of France, was married to Philip II. of Spain by the Bishop of Paris at the church door of Notre Dame; while Mary Stuart had been married the year before to the Dauphin on the same spot.

_The Degree of M. D._

The degree of Doctor of Medicine was first conferred near the beginning of the fourteenth century. The first recorded instance occurred in the year 1329, when Wilhelm Gordenio received the degree of Doctor of Arts and of Medicine at the College of Asti, Italy. Soon after this date the degree was conferred by the University of Paris.

_The Title of “Reverend”_

An interesting contribution to the history of the title of “Reverend” as applied to clergymen is made by the Rev. Brooke Lambert in a letter to the London _Times_. Mr. Lambert says,—

“The registers of the parish of Tamworth contain some interesting particulars as to local usage. These registers date back from the reign of Philip and Mary, 1556. The first title given in them to a clergyman is the old title ‘Sir,’ with which Shakespeare has made us familiar. In May, 1567, we have an entry ‘Sir Peter Stringar, curate.’ The clergyman who succeeded him is called ‘Sir Richard Walker,’ but there are other contemporaneous entries, such as ‘sacerdos,’ ‘clericus,’ ‘preacher’ and ‘verbi minister.’ These latter seem to have obtained till, in King James’s reign, we have the prefix ‘master,’ which, as we know, was applied to the great divine, Master Hooker, and this practice seems by our registers to have been continued through the commonwealth, though ‘Minister of the Gospell’ is sometimes added. We have, however, in 1657 the first use of the word ‘reverend,’ evidently in this case as a special mark of respect, not as a formal title. On ‘11 June, 1657, was buried our Reverend Pastor Master Thomas Blake, minister of Tamworth.’ In 1693 we have a clergyman by name Samuel Collins. I had noticed with curiosity an erasure before his name in each of the casualties, baptismal or funereal, recorded in our register. At last, in 1701, I was lucky enough to find an unerased entry, and it appears that the obnoxious word was the title ‘Revd.’ (so written) prefixed to his Mr. However, he seems not to have been able to hold to this title. One of his children, baptized in 1706, is baptized as the child of plain Samuel Collins, minister; and when he died, in 1706, he was buried without the title ‘reverend’—as Mr. (_i.e._, Master) Samuel Collins, minister of Tamworth. Henceforward the same address is used till November, 1727, when we have the baptism of Anne, daughter of ‘ye Rev. Mr. Robert Wilson, minister of Tamworth,’ and after that date the prefix ‘reverend’ never seems to have been omitted.”

_The First Christian Hymn_

In the works of Clement of Alexandria is given the most ancient hymn of the Primitive Church. Clement wrote in the year 150, and the hymn itself is said to be of much earlier origin. The first and last stanzas rendered into English may serve to show the strains in which the happy disciples were wont to address their loving Saviour:

“Shepherd of tender youth!
Guiding in love and truth,
Through devious ways;
Christ, our triumphant King,
We come Thy Name to sing,
And here our children bring
To shout Thy praise.

“So now, and till we die,
Sound we Thy praises high,
And joyful sing;
Infants and the glad throng,
Who to Thy Church belong,
Unite and swell the song
To Christ our King.”

_Mother Goose and Mary’s Lamb_

Many suppose “Mother Goose” to be an imaginary personage, but she was a real woman, and her maiden name was Elizabeth Foster. She was born in 1665, married Isaac Goose in 1693, a few years later became a member of the Old South Church, of Boston, and died in 1757, at the age of ninety-two. Her songs were originally sung to her grandchildren. They were first published in 1716 by her son-in-law, Thomas Fleet, of Boston.

The “Mary” that “had a little lamb” was Mary Elizabeth Sawyer, a Massachusetts girl; her lamb was one of twins forsaken by an unnatural mother. Mary took it home and cared for it herself. They became fast friends, and when Mary started to school her pet missed her very much, so one morning it followed her. At school she tucked it under her desk and covered it with her shawl, but when she went out to her spelling-class the lamb trotted after her. The children laughed wildly, and the teacher had the lamb removed from the room. On that morning a young student named Rawlston was a visitor at the school. The incident awakened his poetic genius, and a few days later he handed Mary the first three verses of the poem. He died soon after, ignorant of the immortality of his verses.

_The Umbrella_

Baltimore was foremost in introducing several things now in universal use. Its enterprise started the first steam passenger railway in this country; it was the first to demonstrate, in connection with Washington, the practicability of the Morse telegraph system; it was the first to burn carburetted hydrogen gas as an illuminant; it built the first merchants’ exchange, and originated various manufacturing industries. All this is matter of notoriety, but it is not generally known that a Baltimorean displayed the first umbrella seen in the United States. It was in 1772 when he appeared on the streets walking under an umbrella which he had purchased from a Baltimore ship that had come from India. It is related that at sight of the innovator with his novel weather shield women were affrighted, horses became frantic runaways, children stoned the man, and the solitary watchman was called out. However, in spite of so hostile a reception, an account of the umbrella episode which reached Philadelphia had the effect of begetting for the new article an enthusiastic adoption. New York later received the innovation with cordiality, and it was not long before the umbrella was universally adopted, not alone for utility, but in some instances as a badge of dignity of the village sage. Considering the indispensability of the umbrella to the social life of the day, the Baltimorean who had the courage to take the initiative in umbrella-carrying deserves at least a commemorative tablet.

_Equal Mark_

In Robert Recorde’s “Whetstone of Witte,” a treatise on algebra written about the year 1557, he says, “To avoide the tediouse repetition of these words, _is equalle to_, I will sette, as I doe often in worke use a pair of parallel lines of one lengthe, thus: =, because no two things can be more equalle.” This was the origin of this common arithmetical sign.

_Cardinal’s Red Hat_

The red hat was granted to cardinals by Pope Innocent IV. at the Council of Lyons, A.D. 1245, and allowed to be borne in their arms at the same time, as an emblem that they ought to be ready to shed their blood for the Church, especially against the Emperor Frederick II., who had just been deposed, and his subjects absolved from their allegiance by that Pope and Council. Varennes, however, looking for a less temporary reason, quotes Gregory of Nyssen to prove that this color was the mark of supreme dignity, and appeals even to the prophet Naham, ii. 3, “The shield of his mighty men is made red, the valiant men are in scarlet.” Hence he concludes that “the royal priesthood” belongs to the cardinals, and that they are the chief leaders of the church militant.

_An Old Proverb_

The proverb “those who live in glass houses should not throw stones” has been traced to the royal pedant James I. Seton says, “When London was for the first time inundated with Scotchmen, the Duke of Buckingham, jealous of their invasion, organized a movement against them, and parties were formed for the purpose of breaking the windows of their abodes. By way of retaliation, a number of Scotchmen smashed the windows of the duke’s mansion in St. Martin’s Fields, known as the ‘Glass House,’ and on his complaining to the king, his Majesty replied, ‘Steenie, Steenie (the nickname given to Villiers), those who live in glass houses should be careful how they fling stanes.’”

But the idea is more than two centuries older than the time of James I. It occurs in Chaucer’s “Troilus and Creseide,” where his use of _verre_, instead of glass, suggests that the proverb was originally current in Old French.

_The Stereoscope_

In the spring of 1893 the Boston _Transcript_ gave an account of the stereoscope, for which Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes had furnished the original model. Some inaccuracies having crept into the article, the doctor gave his story of the invention as follows:

“The instrument in common use at that time was a box with a hinged flap on its upper wall, which opened to let the light in upon the pictures. I got rid of the box, made some slots into which the lower edge of the stereograph was inserted, stuck an awl underneath for a handle, and with the lenses and an upright partition my stereoscope was finished. The slide afterwards substituted for these was suggested by one of Mr. Joseph Bates’s employees. The hood was a part of my original pattern, made of pasteboard, and shaped to fit my own forehead.

“I tried hard for some time to give my contrivance away to the dealers, but without success. The Messrs. Anthony, of New York, who were always polite and attentive, did not care to take up the new model. The London Stereoscopic Company, speaking through the young man who represented them, assured me that everything which might, could, or would be novel or interesting in the stereoscopic line was already familiarly known in London. One of the great houses of Philadelphia also declined my gift of a model out of which I thought they might make some profit. At last Mr. Bates thought he would have a few made and see if they would sell. So he put a dozen or thereabout on the market, and they were soon disposed of. The dozen was followed by a hundred, and by and by the sale went into the thousands, and I was told that I might have made more money by my stereoscope if I had patented it than I was ever going to make by literature. But I did not care to be known as the patentee of a pill or of a peeping contrivance.

“The above is the true story of the origin of the stereoscope with which my name is associated.

“O. W. H.”

_The Dark Horse_

There lived in Tennessee an old chap named Sam Flynn, who traded in horses and generally contrived to own a speedy nag or two, which he used for racing purposes whenever he could pick up a “soft match” during his travels. The best of his flyers was a coal-black stallion named Dusky Pete, who was almost a thoroughbred, and able to go in the best of company. Flynn was accustomed to saddle Pete when approaching a town and ride him into it to give the impression that the animal was merely a “likely hoss,” and not a flyer. One day he came to a town where a country race-meeting was being held and he entered Pete among the contestants. The people of the town, not knowing anything of his antecedents, and not being overimpressed by his appearance, backed two or three local favorites heavily against him. Flynn moved among the crowd and took all the bets offered against his nag. Just as the “flyers” were being saddled for the race old Judge McMinamee, who was the turf oracle of that part of the State, arrived on the course, and was made one of the judges. As he took his place on the stand he was told how the betting ran, and of the folly of the owner of the strange entry in backing his “plug” so heavily. Running his eye over the track, the judge instantly recognized Pete, and he said, “Gentlemen, there’s a dark horse in this race that will make some of you sick before supper.” The judge was right. Pete “the dark horse,” lay back until the three-quarter pole was reached, when he went to the front with a rush and won the purse and Flynn’s bets with the greatest ease.

_The First Gold Found in California_

The existence of gold in California has been known since the expedition of Drake in 1577; being particularly noticed by Hakluyt in his account of the region. The occurrence of gold upon the placers was noticed in a work upon Upper California, published in Spain in 1690, by Loyola Cavello, at that time a priest at the mission of San José, Bay of San Francisco. Captain Shelvocke in 1721 speaks favorably of the appearance of the soil for gold, and of the probable richness of the country in metals. The “Historico-Geographical Dictionary” of Antonio de Alcedo, 1786, positively affirms the abundance of gold. The favorable appearance of the country for gold was noticed by Professor J. D. Dana, and recorded in his geological report. In Hunt’s _Merchants’ Magazine_ for April, 1847, is a statement by Mr. Sloat respecting the richness of the country in gold, made from his observations there; and he predicted that its mineral developments would greatly exceed the most sanguine expectations.

The discovery which led to immediate development, and to an enormous influx of population, was made February 9, 1848, at Sutter’s Mill, on the American fork of the Sacramento River. The account of Captain John A. Sutter himself is as follows:

“While building a mill on American River, a man employed by me, by the name of Marshall, discovered yellow spots in the mill-race. He procured some of the yellow stuff, and remarked to several men that he believed it was gold; but they only laughed at him, and called him crazy. He came to my office next day; and seeing that he wanted to speak to me alone, and suspecting that he was under some excitement, I asked him, ‘What’s the matter?’ We went into a room and locked the door. He wanted to be very sure that no listeners were about; and, when satisfied, he gave me the stuff to examine; he had it wrapped up in a piece of paper. During our interview I had occasion to go to the door, opened it, and neglected to lock it again; and, while handling the open package, my clerk unexpectedly came in, when Marshall quickly put it in his pocket. After the clerk had retired, the door was again locked, and the specimen closely examined. Several tests that I knew of I applied as well as I could, and satisfied myself that it was really gold. One of these tests was with aquafortis, and the other by weighing in water. I told him it was gold, and no mistake, and hoped the discovery could be kept secret for six weeks,—until certain mills would be finished, and preparation made for a large additional population. I then had about eighty white mechanics employed. But the secret soon leaked out; was told by a woman employed as a cook,—of course she could keep no such golden secret.”

The cook here referred to was Mrs. Wimmer, the wife of one of General Fremont’s enlisted men. She has left on record her story of the discovery as follows:

“We arrived here in November, 1846,” said Mrs. Wimmer, “with a party of fourteen families, across the plains from Missouri. On reaching Sutter’s Fort, Sacramento, we found Fremont in need of more men. My husband enlisted before we had got the oxen unyoked, and left me and our seven children at the fort in the care of Commissary Curtain. We drew our rations like common soldiers for four months. Captain Sutter arranged a room for us in the fort. As soon as Mr. Wimmer returned from Santa Clara, where he had been stationed during the winter, he joined three others and went over the mountains to what is now called Donner Lake, to fetch over the effects of the Donner family, after that terrible winter of suffering.

“In June, 1847, they loaded all our household plunder for Battle Creek, up on the Sacramento, to put up a saw-mill, but they changed their plans and went to Coloma. Captain Sutter and J. W. Marshall were equal partners and were the head of the expedition. After seven days of travel we arrived at sundown a mile above the town. Next morning Mr. Wimmer went out to select a site for the mill, and I a site for the house. He was to oversee the Indians, be a handy man about, and I was to be cook. We had from fifteen to twenty men employed. We soon had a log house—a good log house—and a log heap to cook by.

“They had been working on the mill-race, dam, and mill about six months, when, one morning along in the first week of February, 1848, after an absence of several days to the fort, Mr. Marshall took Mr. Wimmer and went down to see what had been done while he was away. The water was entirely shut off, and as they walked along, talking and examining the work, just ahead of them, on a little rough muddy rock, lay something looking bright, like gold. They both saw it, but Mr. Marshall was the first to stoop to pick it up, and, as he looked at it, doubted its being gold.

“Our little son Martin was along with them, and Mr. Marshall gave it to him to bring up to me. He came in a hurry and said, ‘Here, mother, here’s something Mr. Marshall and Pa found, and they want you to put it into saleratus water to see if it will tarnish.’ I said, ‘This is gold, and I will throw it into my lye-kettle, which I had just tried with a feather, and if it is gold it will be gold when it comes out.’ I finished off my soap that day and set it off to cool, and it staid there till next morning. At the breakfast table one of the workhands raised up his head from eating, and said, ‘I heard something about gold being discovered, what about it?’ Mr. Marshall told him to ask Jenny, and I told him it was in my soap-kettle.

“A plank was brought for me to lay my soap upon, and I cut it in chunks. At the bottom of the pot was a double-handful of potash, which I lifted in my two hands, and there was my gold as bright as it could be. Mr. Marshall still contended it was not gold, but whether he was afraid his men would leave him, or he really thought so, I don’t know. Mr. Wimmer remarked that it looked like gold, weighed heavy, and would do to make money out of. The men promised not to leave till the mill was finished. Not being sure it was gold, Mr. Wimmer urged Mr. Marshall to go to the fort and have it tested. He did so, and George McKinstry, an assayer, pronounced it gold. Captain Sutter came right up with Mr. Marshall, and called all the Indians together, and agreed with them as to certain boundaries that they claimed, and on the right of discovery demanded thirty per cent. of all gold taken out. They, in payment, were to give the Indians handkerchiefs, pocket looking-glasses, shirts, beads, and other trinkets.

“One day Mr. Marshall was packing up to go away. He had gathered together a good deal of dust on this thirty per cent. arrangement, and had it buried under the floor. In overhauling his traps, he said to me, in the presence of Elisha Packwood, ‘Jenny I will give you this piece of gold. I always intended to have a ring made from it for my mother, but I will give it to you.’ I took it and I have had it in my possession from that day to this. Its value is between four and five dollars. It looks like (pardon the comparison) a piece of spruce-gum just out of the mouth of a school girl, except the color. It is rather flat, full of indentations, just as the teeth make in a piece of nice gum. There are one or two rough points on the edge, which, with a little stretch of the imagination, give the appearance of a man’s head with a helmet on, and it can be easily identified by any one who has ever seen it.”

_The Flag of the United States_

In Admiral George H. Preble’s “Origin and Progress of the Flag of the United States,” he says,—

In 1870, Mr. W. J. Canby, of Philadelphia, read before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania a paper on the “History of the American Flag,” in which he stated that his maternal grandmother, Mrs. John Ross (whose husband was a nephew of Colonel George Ross, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence), was the first maker and partial designer of the stars and stripes. The house where the first flag was made was No. 239 Arch Street, formerly 89, below Third, Philadelphia. It was a little two-storied and attic tenement, and was occupied by Betsy Ross after the death of her husband.

A committee of Congress, accompanied by General Washington, in June, 1776, called upon Mrs. Ross, who was an upholsterer, and engaged her to make the flag from a rough drawing, which, according to her suggestion, was redrawn by General Washington “then and there in her back parlor.” The flag as thus designed was adopted by Congress. Mrs. Ross received the employment of flag-maker for the government, and continued in it for many years.

It is related that when Colonel George Ross and General Washington visited Mrs. Ross and asked her to make the flag, she said, “I don’t know whether I can, but I’ll try,” and directly suggested to the gentlemen that the design was wrong in that the stars were six pointed, and not five pointed as they should be. This was corrected and other alterations were made.

_National Political Conventions_

The first national convention to nominate candidates for President and Vice-President met in 1831. The example was set, curiously enough, not by either of the regular political parties, but by the faction which came into existence solely to oppose the secret order of Masonry. It is worth while to notice that it was this movement which gave an opening to the public careers of two men who afterwards rose, one to the Presidency, the other to the Senate and the Secretaryship of State. These were William H. Seward and Millard Fillmore. The Antimasonic party grew out of the excitement produced by the mysterious disappearance of William Morgan, a member of the Fraternity who was supposed to have divulged its secrets. In September, 1831, a national convention of this party assembled at Baltimore, tendered the nomination to the famous Maryland lawyer, William Wirt, formerly Attorney-General, who accepted it, and Amos Ellmaker, of Pennsylvania, was added to the ticket as candidate for Vice-President.

The caucus system was now evidently extinct; no party would have dared attempt its revival. The system of national conventions, exemplified by the Antimasons, was seen to be the only feasible substitute. As the supporters of Jackson now called themselves “Democrats,” so his opponents adopted the designation of “National Republicans.” The latter party was first in the field to call a national convention, and this convention met at Baltimore in December, 1831. Its session was brief, for public opinion had already marked out Henry Clay as its candidate. Clay was nominated on the first ballot, and John Sergeant was given the second place on the ticket. Thus the opposition to Jackson, which was strenuous and hot, was yet divided at the start of the race between Clay and Wirt.

The Legislature of New Hampshire issued the first call at this time for a Democratic National Convention—the first of that long series of powerful and exciting conclaves which have so often designated our rulers since. This body met in May, 1832. The Democracy rallied in large numbers at Baltimore, which may be called the City of Conventions, as well as of Monuments, so often has it been chosen for their meeting-place. General Lucas, of Ohio, was chosen president. One of the first motions passed by this convention was to adopt the famous two-thirds rule, which more than once afterwards did deadly work with the aspirations of statesmen.

_The First United States Bank_

Immediately after the first Congress of 1791, Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, recommended a national bank as one of the means necessary to restore the credit of the government, and to act as its financial agent. The two Houses of Congress, on his recommendation, passed the first bank charter.

General Washington expressed serious doubts of the power to pass the law, and took the opinions of his Cabinet, in writing. Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State, was against it. Edmund Randolph, Attorney-General expressed the same opinion; while General Henry Knox, Secretary of War, sustained Hamilton in its constitutionality. Washington referred the opinions of Jefferson and others to Hamilton for his reply, who gave an elaborate opinion, sustaining the right of Congress to establish the bank.

On consideration of the whole subject General Washington was of the opinion that the bank was unconstitutional, and that he ought to veto it, and called on Mr. Madison to prepare for him a veto message, which he accordingly did. Upon the presentation of that message, Washington again expressed himself in doubt, inclining to the impression that the power did not exist. Jefferson still adhered to his opinion that it was clearly unconstitutional, but he advised the President that _in cases of great and serious doubt, the doubt should be weighed in favor of legislative authority_. Whereupon Washington signed the bill.—STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS.

_The Oldest Living Things_

The oldest living things on this earth are trees. Given favorable conditions for growth and sustenance, the average tree will never die of old age—its death is merely an accident. Other younger and more vigorous trees may spring up near it, and perhaps rob its roots of their proper nourishment; insects may kill it, floods or winds may sweep it away, or its roots may come in contact with rock and become so gnarled and twisted, because they have not room to expand in their growth, that they literally throttle the avenues of its sustenance; but these are accidents. If such things do not happen a tree may live on for century after century, still robust, still flourishing, sheltering with its wide-spreading branches the men and women of age after age.

There is a yew-tree in the church-yard at Fortingal, in Perthshire, which de Candolle, nearly a century ago, proved to the satisfaction of botanists to be over twenty-five centuries old, and another at Hedsor, in Buclas, which is three thousand two hundred and forty years old. How de Candolle arrived at an apparently correct estimate of the enormous age of these living trees is a simple thing, and the principle is doubtless well known to-day to all. The yew, like most other trees, adds one line, about the tenth of an inch, to its circumference each year. He proved this after an investigation extending over several years, and we know now, a hundred years later, that his deductions were correct. The old yew at Hedsor has a trunk twenty-seven feet in diameter, proving its great age, and it is in a flourishing, healthy condition now, like its brother at Fortingal.

Humboldt refers to a gigantic boabab tree in central Africa as the “oldest organic monument” in the world. This tree has a trunk twenty-nine feet in diameter, and Adanson, by a series of careful measurements, demonstrated conclusively that it had lived for not less than five thousand one hundred and fifty years.

Still, it is not the oldest organic monument in the world, as Humboldt declared, for Mexican scientists have proved that the Montezuma cypress at Chepultepec, with a trunk one hundred and eighteen feet and ten inches in circumference, is still older,—older, too, by more than a thousand years,—for it has been shown, as conclusively as these things can be shown, that its age is about six thousand two hundred and sixty years. To become impressed with wonder over this, one has only to dwell on that duration for a little while in thought.

The giant redwoods of California are profoundly impressive, not only by reason of their age and dimensions, but of their number. The sequoias of the Mariposa, Calaveras, and South Park groves are more than eighteen hundred in number. The age of the “grizzly giant,” in the Mariposa group, is four thousand six hundred and eighty years, while the prostrate monarch of the Calaveras grove, known as the “Father of the Forest,” with a circumference of a hundred and ten feet, and a height when standing of four hundred and thirty-five feet, is much older.

PROTOTYPES

_Shylock_

The Ninety-fifth Declamation of “The Orator,” of Alexander Silvayn, treats “Of a Jew who would for his debt have a pound of the flesh of a Christian.” This is classed by J. Payne Collier among the romances, novels, poems, and histories used by Shakespeare as the foundation of his dramas. It first appeared in 1596. According to Gregorio Leti, the biographer of Pope Sixtus V, the question of Shylock’s Judaism had been anticipated by others. In the eleventh book of his history of the Pope, Leti tells the following story:

“In the year of 1587, ten years before the probable date of the production of Shakespeare’s play, a Roman merchant named Paul Maria Secchi, a good Catholic Christian, learned that Sir Francis Drake had conquered San Domingo. He imparts his news to a Jewish trader, Simson Ceneda, who either disbelieved it or had an interest in making it appear so. He obstinately contested the truth of the statement, and to emphasize his contradiction added that he would stake a pound weight of his flesh on the contrary. The Christian took him at his word, staking one thousand scudi against the pound of flesh, and the bet was attested by two witnesses. On the truth of Drake’s conquest being confirmed, the Christian demanded the fulfilment of the wager. In vain the Jew offered money instead of the stake he had agreed to. The Jew appealed to the governor, and the governor to the Pope, who sentenced them both to the galleys—a punishment they were allowed to make up for by a payment of two thousand scudi each to the Hospital of the Sixtine Bridge.” A more interesting fact connected with the “pound of flesh” is that the conception is found in different shapes in Hindoo mythology.

_Figaro_

The music of the opera of “Le Barbier de Seville” (Il Barbiere di Siviglia) is by Rossini, and the words are by Sterbini. The music of “Le Mariage di Figaro” (Le Nozze di Figaro) is by Mozart, and the libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte. But both operas are based on Beaumarchais’s satirical comedies, which had acquired popularity all over Europe.

_The Malaprops_

Theodore Hook’s series of “Ramsbottom Papers” were the precursors of all the Mrs. Malaprops, Tabitha Brambles, and Mrs. Partingtons of a later generation. Let Dorothea Julia Ramsbottom speak for herself, in a few sentences from her “Notes on England and France:”

“Having often heard travellers lamenting not having put down what they call the memorybilious of their journey, I was determined, while I was on my tower, to keep a dairy (so called from containing the cream of one’s information), and record everything which occurred to me.

“Resolving to take time by the firelock, we left Montague Place at 7 o’clock by Mr. Fulmer’s pocket thermometer, and proceeded over Westminster Bridge to explode the European continent. I never pass Whitehall without dropping a tear to the memory of Charles II., who was decimated after the rebellion of 1745, opposite the Horse Guards.

“We saw the inn where Alexander, the Autograph of all the Russias, lived when he was here; and, as we were going along, we met twenty or thirty dragons mounted on horses. The ensign who commanded them was a friend of Mr. Fulmer’s: he looked at Lavinia as if pleased with her _tooting assembly_. I heard Mr. Fulmer say he was a son of Marr’s. He spoke as if everybody knew his father: so I suppose he must be the son of the poor gentleman who was so barbarously murdered a few years ago near Ratcliffe Highway: if so he is uncommon genteel.

“Travellers like us, who are mere birds of prey, have no time to waste: so we went to-day to the great church which is called Naughty Dam, where we saw a priest doing something at an altar. Mr. Fulmer begged me to observe the knave of the church; but I thought it too hard to call the man names in his own country.”

_The Pen and the Sword_

Dr. Draper, in his “Intellectual Development of Europe,” says,—

“Within twenty-five years after the death of Mohammed, under Ali, the fourth Khalif, the patronage of learning had become a settled principle of the Mohammedan system. Some of the maxims current show how much literature was esteemed.”

“The ink of the doctor is equally valuable with the blood of the martyr.

“Paradise is as much for him who has rightly used the pen, as for him who has fallen by the sword.”

_The Best Service_

When General R. B. Hayes was nominated by the Republican party for the Presidency, he made use, in his letter of acceptance, of the expression, “He serves his party best who serves his country best.” A clue to this phrase, which was frequently repeated afterwards, will be found in Pope’s translation of the tenth book of Homer’s Iliad, where Nestor goes through the camp to wake up the captains, and arousing Diomed says,—

“Each single Greek, in his conclusive strife,
Stands on the sharpest edge of death or life.
Yet if my years thy kind regard engage,
Employ thy youth as I employ my age;
Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the rest;
He serves me most who serves his country best.”

The similarity of the last line to the celebrated expression used by President Hayes is striking. It is probable he was at some period of his life a close reader of the Iliad, and that this expression found a lodgement in his mind, to crop out in a slightly modified form after many years.

_Mark Twain Accused of Plagiary_

Mark Twain having dedicated a recent book of his “to Mr. Smith wherever he is found,” will, doubtless, be interested to learn that the gentleman in question is to be discovered in the current London Post Office Directory alone to the very considerable extent of sixteen and a half columns. But will Mr. Twain be surprised to hear that the notion of this Smith dedication of his is not a new one? Surely he must be aware that an earlier American humorist, Artemus Ward, prefaced one of his volumes with a similar inscription, and gave it additional point, too, by adding a sincere hope that every one of his “dedicatees” would purchase a copy of the book. So that, apparently, and not by any means for the first time, a stolen idea has been spoiled in the stealing.

_The Bill of Fare_

A German gastronomical publication gives the following account of the origin of the menu: At the meeting of Electors in Regensburg in the year 1489, Elector Henry of Braunschweig attracted general notice at a state dinner. He had a long paper before him to which he referred every time before he ordered a dish. The Earl of Montfort, who sat near him, asked him what he was reading. The Elector silently handed the paper to his interrogator. It contained a list of the viands prepared for the occasion, which the Elector had ordered the cook to write out for him. The idea of having such a list so pleased the illustrious assembly that they introduced it each in his own household, and since that time the fashion of having a menu has spread all over the civilized world.

_Ancestry_

On one occasion Mr. John Bright said, in the course of a speech, “The noble lord comes of a race distinguished, I am told, as having come over with the Conqueror. I never heard that any of them have since been distinguished for anything else.” This sentiment, though probably Mr. Bright knew it not, found epigrammatic expression in France more than a century ago, in a distich composed when A. Courtenay, in compliment to his birth, was elected a member of the Academy:

“Le Prince de Courtenay est de l’Académie,
Quel ouvrage a-t-il fait? Sa généalogie.”

The phrase, “I am my own ancestor,” is traced to Andoche Junot. When Junot, a soldier who had risen from the ranks, was created Duke of Abrantes, a French nobleman of the old régime sneeringly asked him what was his ancestry. Junot replied, “Ah, ma foi, je n’en sais rien; moi je suis mon ancêtre.” (Faith, I know nothing about it; I am my own ancestor.) The Emperor Tiberius, however, thus described Curtius Rufus: “He seems to be a man sprung from himself.” A similar reply is attributed to Napoleon, as he is said to have told his prospective father-in-law, the emperor of Austria, when the latter tried to trace the Bonaparte lineage to some petty prince: “Sire, I am my own Rudolph of Hapsburg.” (Rudolph was the founder of the Hapsburg family.)

_Cinderella_

The story of Cinderella is not the invention of some imaginative genius, but is founded on fact. According to Strabo, the story is as follows: One day a lady named Rhodopis was bathing in the Nile, and the wind carried one of her sandals and laid it at the feet of the king of Egypt, who was holding a court of justice in the open air not far away. His curiosity was excited by the singularity of the event and the elegance of the sandal, and he offered a reward for the discovery of the owner. Rhodopis claimed it, and it was found to fit her exactly. She was very beautiful, and the king married her. She lived two thousand years before the Christian era, and is remembered in history as the “Rosy-cheeked Queen” of Egypt.

_Crossing the Bar_

Did Tennyson find the suggestion for one of his latest poems, “Crossing the Bar,” in the letter written by the Rev. Donald Cargill in 1680 to a friend who was under sentence of death? Thus it runs: “Farewell, dearest friend, never to see one another any more, till at the right hand of Christ. Fear not, and the God of mercies grant a full gale and a fair entry into His kingdom, that may carry you sweetly and swiftly over the bar, that you find not the rub of death.”

_Fourth Estate_

Carlyle, in the fifth lecture on “Heroes and Hero Worship,” said, “Burke said there were three estates in Parliament, but in the reporters’ gallery yonder there sat a fourth estate more important far than they all.” This was in 1839 or 1840.

_Ne Sutor Ultra Crepidam_

John Randolph had had a discussion with a man named Sheffey, who was one of his colleagues, and who had been a shoemaker in early life. Sheffey had made a speech which excited Randolph’s jealousy, and Randolph, in replying to him, said that Sheffey was out of his sphere, and by way of illustration had told the story of the sculptor Phidias. “This sculptor,” said Randolph, “had made a noted figure, and having placed it on the sidewalk, he secured a hiding-place near by, where, unobserved, he might hear the criticisms of those who passed upon his statue. Among those who examined the marble was a shoemaker, and this man criticised the sandals and muttered over to himself as to where they were wrong. After he had gone away, Phidias came forth and examined the points that the shoemaker had objected to, and found that his criticism was correct. He removed the statue to his studio and remedied the defects. The next day Phidias again placed it upon the street and the shoemaker again stopped before it. He saw at once that the defects he had noticed had been remedied, and he now began to criticise very foolishly other points about the statue. Phidias listened to him for a time, and then came forth with a Latin phrase which means ‘Let the shoemaker stick to his last.’ And so,” concluded Randolph, “I say in regard to my colleague.”

_Chestnut_

The slang term “chestnut,” as applied to ancient jokes or moss-grown anecdotes, though credited to a Philadelphia actor, may be traced to a remote period. Ovid, in his “Art of Love,” says, “Let your boy take to your mistress grapes, or what Amaryllis so delighted in; but at the present time she is fond of chestnuts no longer.” This is plainly a reference to a line in the Second Eclogue, in which Virgil tells how chestnuts pleased Amaryllis. The idea obviously was that for weariness and satiety the chestnut had lost its allurement.

_Milton’s Indebtedness_

A reverend gentleman named Edmunson is endeavoring to rob the author of “Paradise Lost” of all the honor which belongs to originality of conception. He has published a work to prove that Milton was largely indebted in the composition of his great poem to various poems of a Dutch rhymester of the same period, one Joost Van den Vondel, and that Samson Agonistes was inspired by a drama by Vondel on the same subject.

_An Expressive Phrase_

Mr. Lincoln has often been credited with the expressive phrase, “Of the people, by the people, for the people.” It was not original with him, however; Theodore Parker first used it, and often used it during the last decade of his life. A lady who was long a member of Mr. Parker’s household, and who assisted him in his intellectual work, says that the idea did not spring at once to his mind in its perfect conciseness; he had expressed it again and again with gradually lessening diffuseness before he gave the address to the Anti-Slavery Society, May 13, 1854, where it appears thus: “Of all the people, by all the people, and for all the people,” as published in Additional Speeches, Vol. II., page 25. “But that,” she adds, “was not quite pointed enough for the weapon he needed to use so often in criticising the national action, to pierce and penetrate the mind of hearer and reader with the just idea of democracy, securing it there by much iteration; and I can distinctly recall his joyful look when he afterwards read it to me in his library, condensed into this gem: ‘Of the people, by the people, for the people.’”

_Overstrained Politeness_

Maunsell B. Field, in his “Memories,” relates that General Winfield Scott told him that during the last war with Great Britain (1812–14), before an action began between the two armies, it was customary for the respective commanders to ride forward, accompanied by their staffs, and formally salute each other. Each then returned to his own lines, and the battle opened.

This serves as a reminder of the old story of Fournier (_L’Esprit dans l’histoire_): “Lord Hay at the battle of Fontenoy, 1745, called out, ‘Gentlemen of the French Guard, fire first.’ To which the Comte d’Auteroches replied, ‘Sir, we never fire first; please to fire yourselves.’”

_The Next to Godliness_