strengthened under the ministry of the then youthful, but now world-known and honored, Adam Clarke. Coincident with these things, the deathless work of that Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale Sweet fiction and plain truth alike prevail," The Pilgrim's Progress,-gave shape to his thoughts, and direction to his life. The infusion of the religious element into his nature was a most important epoch in his existence. It gave tone to his feelings, sprightliness and vigor to his mind, purity and decision to his character. It brought him into a new atmosphere of being, placed new and vaster objects before his mind, and stirred the profound depths of his intellectual and moral nature with higher aspirations, and a more ennobling ambition. Old things were passed away; and a new life, stretching outward and upward, blending usefulness and happiness, the rewards of virtue with the conquests of duty, was mapped on his soul in lines of fire traced by the finger of God. Henceforth, in the contemplation of his life, we perceive not only a new direction, but a fuller development of mental energy; and trace the application of his powers to subjects, respecting truth, duty and God, that religious conviction alone could suggest or support. He is no longer ambitious to tread the deck of a pirate-ship. The past is forgotten, or exists as a mournful remembrance. A purer principle is implanted in his nature. It has taken root in his heart; its foliage and its fruits distinguish and adorn his subsequent career. moments from constant toil to the purpose of reading and study. In a few years, this object was accomplished, and he found himself at liberty to pursue his long-cherished schemes of mental improvement. But the best-concerted schemes sometimes fail. His was nearly wrecked by politics. He was saved by an incident as singular as it was effectual. During the American War everybody was a politician; he took sides with the Colonies; there was danger of political discussion engaging his attention, to the exclusion or detriment of his more important mental occupations. From this hazard he was preserved by the following incident. A friend one day remarked to him, "Mr. Drew, more than once I have heard you quote that expression,— 'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.' You quote it as being true; but how are we to understand it?" "I can give you," he replied, "an instance from my own experience. When I began business I was a great politician. My master's shop had been a chosen place for political discussion, and there, I suppose, I acquired my fondness for such debates. For the first year, I had too much to do and to think about, to indulge my propensity for politics; but after getting a little ahead in the world, I began to dip into these matters again. Very soon I entered as deeply into newspaper argument as if my livelihood depended on it. My shop was often filled with loungers, who came to canvass public measures; and now and then I went into my neighIt is not to be supposed that his difficul- bors' houses on a similar errand. This ties either in getting bread or books had encroached on my time; and I found it ceased. He was still" inured to poverty necessary sometimes to work till midnight, and toil." He had entered into business to make up for the hours I had lost. One for himself, but on a scale exceedingly night, after my shutters were closed, and limited. Dr. Franklin's " Way to Wealth," I was busily employed, some little urchin of which he possessed a copy, was his who was passing the street, put his mouth chart. "Poor Richard" gave pithy but to the key-hole of the door, and, with a very excellent advice to poor Samuel shrill pipe, cried out, Shoemaker! shoeDrew. Eighteen hours out of the twenty-maker! work by night and run about by four, "the sound of his hammer" might be heard. He had borrowed five pounds to begin business; and it was only at the expiration of a year that he was able to return it. But his business, and his own character for industry and integrity, were established. He was in the way to wealth. His desire, however, was not inordinate. He only wished to be able to spare some day! "And did you," inquired his friend, pursue the boy with your stirrup, to chastise him for his insolence?" 66 No, no! Had a pistol been fired off at my ear, I could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work, saying to myself 'True, true! but you shall never have that to say of me again.' I have never forgotten it; and while I recollect anything, I never shall. To me it was the voice of God; and it has been a word in season throughout my life. I learned from it not to leave till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle when I ought to be working. From that time I turned over a new leaf. I ceased to venture on the restless sea of politics, or trouble myself about matters which did not concern me. The bliss of ignorance on political topics I often experienced in after life; the folly of being wise my early history shows." its unfathomable entities, endless organizations, mysterious laws, and chainless powers, was the world through which he was to roam with the freedom of a freeborn citizen. The map of that world already existed in outline in his own intellectual and moral being. In such a study the heaviest draft would be on his own mental organism. Reading filled his leisure; reflection occupied him while at work. He possessed, in a remarkable degree, the power of abstracting his mind from surrounding objects, and fixing it, like a leech, upon whatever subject occupied his attention. His profoundest mental investigations were often carried on in the din of domestic affairs. His works, which have given his name to fame, were written, not in the solitude of the study, but amidst the hammering of heel-taps and cries of children. He had no study-no retirement. "I write," he said, "amid the cries and cradles of my children; and frequently, when I review what I have written, endeavor to cultivate Industry and economy had "broken the neck of his difficulties," and left him with some degree of leisure to pursue his ruling passion-the acquisition of knowledge. Possessed of the opportunity of improvement, he increased his efforts, and enlarged his plans of acquiring information. Fugitive thoughts-those first and best teachings of truth-were preserved with an avaricious care. Even while at work, he kept writing-materials at his side, to note the processes of his mind, and fix,the art to blot.'" During the day, he beyond the possibility of forgetfulness, the outlines of arguments on such subjects as engaged his attention for the time. But he had not as yet fixed upon any plan of study. We shall see what determined his choice : "The sciences lay before me. I discovered charms in each, but was unable to embrace them all, and hesitated in making a selection. I had learned that 'One science only will one genius fitSo vast is art, so narrow human wit.' At first I felt such an attachment to astronomy, that I resolved to confine my views to the study of that science; but I soon found myself too defective in arithmetic to make any proficiency. Modern history was my next object; but I quickly discovered that more books and time were necessary than I could either purchase or spare, and on this account history was abandoned. In the region of metaphysics I saw neither of the above impediments. It nevertheless appeared to be a thorny path; but I determined to enter, and accordingly began to tread it. Poverty selected the field on which he was to win his triumphs. It was, indeed, a thorny path, hedged with difficulties. He entered it with a giant's energy. The immaterial world, with its empires of being, wrote down "the shreds and patches" of thought and argument; at night, he elaborated them into form and unity. "His usual seat, after closing the business of the day, was a low nursing chair beside the kitchen fire. Here, with the bellows on his knees for a desk, and the usual culinary and domestic matters in progress around him, his works, prior to 1805, were chiefly written." The first production of Mr. Drew's pen was a defense of Christianity, in answer to what a celebrated Irish barrister, with singular felicity and force of language has called "that most abominable abomination of all abominable abominations, Tom Paine's Age of Reason."" It was elicited by circumstances no less attractive in their nature than they proved to be beneficial to the spiritual interests of one of the parties. Amongst the friends drawn to Mr. Drew by his literary pursuits and the attractions of his expanding intellect, was a young gentleman, a surgeon, schooled in the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Gibbon, and Hume. Confirmed in infidelity himself, he sought to shake the religious convictions of the pious and strong-minded, but humble shoemaker. They had frequently discussed abstruse questions of ethics; especially the nature of evidence, and the primary sources of moral principles. When "Paine's Age of Reason" appeared, he procured it, and fortified himself with its objections against revelation; and assuming a bolder tone, commenced an undisguised attack on the Bible. Finding his own arguments ineffectual, he proffered the loan of the book, stipulating that he should read it attentively, and give his opinions with candor, after a careful inspection. During its perusal the various points of its attack on Christianity were brought under discussion. Mr. Drew made note of these conversations. Ere they closed, the surgeon began to waver in his confidence in the "Age of Reason;" and the ultimate result was that he transferred his doubts from the Bible to Paine, and died a humble believer in the truth of Christianity, and in cheerful hope of the immortality it brings to light. The notes of Mr. Drew were subsequently remodeled and offered to the public. Its appearance produced a powerful impression in behalf of religion, then most virulently assailed by the combined forces of French Atheism and English Deism. It placed its author upon commanding ground as a profound thinker and a skillful debater; and attracted to him a larger class of more distinguished and powerful friends. This firstborn of his brain was published in 1799. It was followed in rapid succession by several other pamphlets: one a poem of six hundred lines, rich in thought, but too local in subject, and less fanciful than popular taste in "the art of poetry" required; the other was a defense of his Church against the attack of one in whom the qualities of author, magistrate, and clergyman were blended. His defense was as successful in refuting the assault, as it was, in the mildness and manliness of its spirit, in converting the assailant into a personal friend. In 1802, Mr. Drew issued a larger work, a volume alone sufficient to stamp his fame. It was on the "Immortality and Immateriality of the Human Soul." It is a master-piece of profound thinking, acute reasoning, and logical accuracy. The English language boasts no superior work on the subject. It made a strong impression on the public mind, and attracted a large number of learned men to the obscure, but profound, metaphysician of St. Austell. The history of the volume furnishes an interesting page in the life of authorship. When finished, it was offered to a Cornish 66 publisher for the sum of ten pounds. But he could not risk such an amount on the work of one "unknown to fame." It was then published by subscription, and the edition was exhausted long before the demand for it was supplied. Many years after this, Dr. Clarke said Mr. Drew was a child in money-matters." The occasion before us justifies the remark. Afraid of the risk of a second edition, he sold the copyright to a British bookseller for twenty pounds, and thirty copies of the work. Before the expiration of the copyright, it had passed through four editions in England, two in America, and had been translated and published in France. The author survived the twenty-eight years of the copyright, and it became his property. He then gave it a final revision, and sold it for $1,250. His" Essay on the Soul" was followed, in the course of a few years, by another work, not less abstruse: "The Identity and General Resurrection of the Human Body." His former work had surprised the critics of the day. This confounded them. They knew not what to think of the man; and they were afraid to adventure in a review, upon the vast and profound ocean of metaphysics, over which he sailed with the freedom of a rover, bearing a flag that held out a challenge to the world. The editors of several Reviews, as did also the publisher, courted a criticism of the work. But they could find no one able and willing to attempt it. At length one of them ventured to ask the author for a criticism on his own work, as the only person competent to do it justice. The request stirred his indignation. "Such things," was his reply, "may be among the tricks of trade, but I will never soil my fingers with them." But it went not without a notice: it was reviewed in two works. The improvement of Mr. Drew's circumstances has been spoken of. He had not grown rich. The gain of a little time for mental pursuits, was all the wealth his literary labors had secured. His publications gave him fame as an author, and attracted friends, ardent and anxious to assist him, but they contributed very little to his release from the daily avocations of his shop. He was still poor; and, to gain daily bread for himself and his family, he was compelled to "stick to his last." Even at this period of his life, he concluded a letter to a distinguished antiquarian of London, with the remark, "I am now writing on a piece of leather, and have no time to copy or correct." Yet, in reading his pages, while the mind is stretched to its utmost tension to compass the depth and elevation of his thoughts, it is almost impossible to realize that they were written on a piece of leather in the midst of his workmen, or in the chimney corner, with a bellows on his knee, and with one foot rocking a brawling child to sleep. It is, nevertheless, a fact, and adds new confirmation to the hackneyed remark, that "truth is stranger than fiction." As late as 1809, Professor Kidd, of Aberdeen, wrote to him as follows: "When I read your address, I admired your mind, and felt for your family; and from that moment began to revolve how I might profit merit emerging from hardships. I have 66 at length conceived a way which will, in all likelihood, put you and your dear infants in independence." The plan of the professor was to induce Mr. Drew to enter the lists for a prize of twelve hundred pounds for an essay on The Being and Attributes of God." He entered, but did not win, much to the sorrow of his kindhearted adviser. But the work, in two volumes, was subsequently published, and augmented the fame of "The Metaphysi cal Shoemaker." By the agency of his friend, Dr. Clarke, he was engaged to write for several Reviews, "receiving guineas for every printed sheet." He also commenced lecturing to classes on grammar, history, geography, and astronomy. Several years were spent in these employments. They paved his way, and prepared him to enter a larger field of labor, on a more elevated platform of life. In 1819, he was invited to Liverpool, to take the management of the Imperial Magazine, published by the Caxtons. He accepted it, and parted with his awl and ends. This was a new enterprise, both to the editor and the proprietor. But it succeeded to admiration. His own reputation attracted seven thousand patrons at the start. Whatever may have been the tastes of Mr. Drew as to dress, he had never been in circumstances that allowed of much attention to his personal appearance. The family of Dr. Clarke, who now resided near Liverpool, and who were warmly attached to him, set themselves to reform his costume, and polish his manners. An epigram of the doctor's comprises a fulllength likeness of the figure he presented. "Long was the man, and long was his hair, And long was the coat which this long man did wear." He was passive under the management of his young friends; and they did not pause until a manifest change in the outside man was effected. When he next visited St. Austell, he was congratulated upon his juvenile appearance. "These girls of the doctor's," he said, “and their acquaintances, have thus metamorphosed me." His residence at Liverpool was abridged by the burning of the Caxton establishment. The proprietors resolved to transfer their business to London; and they could not leave their able and popular editor behind them. He accordingly repaired to the metropolis. Here all the works issued from the Caxton press passed under his supervision. He augmented his own fame, and multiplied the number of his learned friends. Of his labors he says: "Besides the Magazine, I have, at this time, six different works in hand, either as author, compiler, or corrector. "Tis plain, therefore, I do not want work; and while I have strength and health, I have no desire to lead a life of idleness;. yet I am sometimes oppressed with unremitting exwhich I cannot command." But leisure ertion, and occasionally sigh for leisure came not till the weary wheels of life stood still in 1833. A Chinese proverb says, "Time and patience will change a mulberry leaf into a silk dress." They have wrought greater wonders than this in the intellectual and moral world. As illustrative of their power in any pursuit of life, how impressive are the incidents in the history of the poor shoemaker of St. Austell. Through their agency, vice, ignorance, and poverty were transmuted into virtue, knowledge, and followed by a manhood of industrious independence; a youth of idleness was diligence, and an age dignified by success in the noblest aspirations that can swell the human breast. LET not any one say he cannot govern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking out and carrying him into action; for what he can do before a prince or a great man, he can do alone, or in the presence of God, if he will.-Locke. ON BRUIN AT COLLEGE. ment of the company, and partook of good things his favorite viands being muffins and ices. He was in general of an amiable disposition, but subject to fits of rage, during which his violence was extreme; but a kind word and a finger to suck soon brought him round. He was most impatient of solitude, and would cry for hours when left alone, particularly if it was dark. It was this unfortunate propensity which brought him into especial disfavor with the Dean of Christ-church, whose Greek quantities and hours of rest were sadly disturbed by Tig's lamentations. At the commencement of the long vacation, Tig, with the other members of the university, retired into the country; and was daily taken out for a walk round the village, to the great astonishment of the bumpkins. There was a little shop, kept by an old dame, who sold whip-cord, sugarcandy, and other matters; and here, on one occasion, Tig was treated to sugarcandy. Soon afterward he got loose, and at once made off for the shop, into which he burst, to the unutterable terror of the spectacled and high-capped old lady, who was knitting stockings behind the counter. The moment she saw his shaggy head and heard the appalling clatter of his chain, she rushed up stairs in a delirium of terror. When assistance arrived, the offender was discovered seated on the counter, helping himself most liberally to brown sugar; and it was with some difficulty, and after much resistance, that he was dragged away. When term recommenced, Tiglath Pileser returned to the university much altered in appearance, for, being of the family of silver bears of Syria, his coat had become almost white; he was much bigger and stronger, and his teeth had made their appearance, so that he was rather more difficult to manage: the only way to a certain memorable day in 18-, a large hamper reached Oxford, per Great Western Railway, and was in due time delivered, according to its direction, at Christ-church, consigned to Francis Buckland, Esq., a gentleman well known in the university for his fondness for natural history. He opened the hamper, and the moment the lid was removed, out jumped a creature about the size of an English sheep-dog, covered with long shaggy hair, of a brownish color. This was a young bear, born on Mount Lebanon, in Syria, a few months before, who had now arrived, to receive his education at our learned university. The moment that he was released from his irksome attitude in the hamper, he made the most of his liberty, and the door of the room being open, he rushed off down the cloisters. Service was going on in the chapel, and, attracted by the pealing organ, or some other motive, he made at once for the chapel. Just as he arrived at the door, the stout verger happened to come thither from within, and the moment he saw the impish-looking creature that was running into his domain, he made a tremendous flourish with his silver wand, and, darting into the chapel, ensconced himself in a tall pew, the door of which he bolted. Tiglath Pileser (as the bear was now called) being scared by the wand, turned from the chapel, and scampered frantically about the large quadrangle, putting to flight the numerous parties of dogs who in those days made that spot their afternoon rendezvous. After a sharp chase, a gown was thrown over Tig, and he was with difficulty secured. During the struggle, he got one of the fingers of his new master into his mouth, and-did he bite it off? no, poor thing! but began vigorously suck-restrain him when in a rage was to hold him ing it, with that peculiar mumbling noise by the ears; but on one occasion, having for which bears are remarkable. Thus lost his temper, he tore his cap and gown was he led back to Mr. Buckland's rooms, to pieces. About this time the British walking all the way on his hind legs, and Association paid a visit to Oxford, and Tig sucking the finger with all his might. was an object of much interest. The writer collar was put round his neck, and Tig be- was present on several occasions when came a prisoner. His good nature and he was introduced to breakfast-parties of amusing tricks soon made him a prime eminent savants, and much amusement favorite with the under-graduates; a cap was created by his tricks, albeit they were and gown were made, attired in which (to a little rough. In more than one instance, the great scandal of the dons) he accom- he made sad havoc with book-muslins and panied his master to breakfasts and parties, other fragile articles of female attire; on where he contributed greatly to the amuse- the whole, however, he conducted himself A |