street combinations. The gay treads on the heels of the sad energy brushes by indolence, and sympathy goes hand in hand with sorrow. A Daniel Peggoty face, with its "massive gravity," moves by and is followed by one as indefinite and unexpressive as an Ossianic ghost's. Sunny, summer afternoons faces will meet you, fashioned for the benevolent end of scattering blue devils and lighting up our path as Spenser's heroine's did the darksome wood, when "Her angel face Like the great eye of Heaven, shyned bright And made a sunshine in that shady place." Then a vacant face comes in view,-a look not of noncholance nor simplicity, but an absolute blank of expression, -"Without either thought or emotion E'en as the face of a clock, from which the hands have been taken." -Hurried, feverish business faces, in all the agonies of a penniless ghost before Charon, flit by unconscious dignity.-Faces "seamed with sickness, convulsed by passion, shadowed by sorrow, branded with remorse," are surprised at the next corner by healthy innocence. Calculating, trading faces will be followed by pale mother ones, in full remembrance of other clean though hungry faces at home, wistfully eyeing meal-bags for their own sake. Serious, thoughtful faces will be found wondering at rollicking, jolly faces in more than one respect, "Like a live coal, from which the ashes are blown." Careful faces will give the way to careless ones. Timid boy-faces will be awed by owl-faced wisdom. Inquiring, Micawber-faces will be answered by depressed Gummidge-faces, betokening something of no very exquisite humor has "turned up." Faces stamped deep with sensuality and crime will in a moment be offset by faces, with up-looking eyes of Madonna purity, indefinably suggestive of cathedral atmospheres and strong faith-hymns. Cheery, vivacious faces, which vexatious and petty troubles never reach, and to which sorrow only comes mellowed by faith, are trebly answered by faces so essentially solemn, as to awaken suspicion they are attempting a subsistence on that extravagant poetic diet, which one, Beaumont, in a confidential mood, divulges, "A midnight bell, a passing groan These are the sounds we feed upon." Our philosopher would be somewhat unworthily occupied, though, if he were content with mere impressions. Of these various combina tions of features-odd, laughable, tragical-he meets with, some must please and some not. Insensibly even, he will arrive at some notions of beauty in them. It would be an useless task, however, to be busied about what a beautiful face is. Any ventured judgment of that sort, would be of a delicate and suspicious character, where individual tastes are so various. Wherein the true beauty of a face lies is a safer, more rational topic. John Ruskin has given us a grand division of beauty into typical and vital. The distinction can easily be fitted to the beauty of features. The domain of the typical embraces every expression of the soul's make-every shadowing forth of its nature in them. The vital pertains to matter and its happy arrangement. To the latter belong the exquisite mould of a brow or the warm tinge of health. The former has but two lodging-houses, the eyes and the mouth. Should the question of preponderance then arise, which of the two classes of beauty is the most beautiful, the philosopher in true taste can respond to but in one way, in favor of the typical. It may seem a little odd that the intellectual should predominate in the mouth. A casual observer fresh from a Henry Clay lithograph would be put on his honor that he had not detected a trace of loveliness in that lock-jaw shaped feature; but we are assured it is an unfailing index of all the light, transient emotions of the soul, and if so it is beautiful. Its unstable, wavering lines are swayed by the slightest soul-breath and set quivering in grief or rippling in humor in an instant; and knit in determination or pursued in plousiocratic vanity they are alike clear revelations of character. The "windows of the soul"-no matter how stained—will fail to conceal much of the occupant. For the curious, Leigh Hunt lays down the law thus: The finest eyes are those that unite sense and sweetness. The look of sense is proportional to the depth from which the thought seems to issue; the look of sweetness to an habitual readiness of sympathy, an unaffected willingness to please and to be pleased." These two then, when beautiful, must decide the beauty of a face. It would be extravagant to say there was no beauty outside them; that the curve of a brow or the color of a cheek were nought, but not so to affirm them far inferior; they are earthy 'and subservient. It was these two-a frank, generous mouth and clear, honest eyes that rendered "gentle Elia," a handsome man, though veracious biographies and engravings do not conceal the fact that to ordinary eyes he was a miserable dyspeptic object. Their deeper significance makes the beauty of age, "When neither avarice, cunning, pride, nor care no affectionate delusion but a happy verity. Our philosopher having thus delivered himself in his ponderous, sagacious way, of the various ill-defined ideas that haunted his befogged mind, doubtless relapsed into a deep silence as he returned to this dwelling, and arranged himself philosophically, with his philosophic aids to reflection, in his wide-armed, high-backed chair, before his wellfilled grate, Still more probable is it that, if he was of sentimental turn, (of which we half suspect the old fellow,) he fell to summoning from the glowing coals and reviewing his shadowy troop of dreamfaces, philosophically framed after no special, earthy prototypes, of every shade, the music of that wonderful Cricket on the Hearth, from bright to sad, but all untainted with the little passions of the faces of earth. J. P. P. In Memory of President Stiles. THE LIT. has been favored at different times with the contributions of several diligent curiosity-hunters, and no wonder if already the most available topics in the antiquarian line have been thoroughly canvassed. In the Lit. for March, 1857, however, a subject was introduced, but has not since been prosecuted, which deserves more notice in these pages. The subject is the unpublished manuscripts of President Stiles, and, if you will go with me to the College Library, I will tell you something of these manuscripts and their author. You know, I dare say, that Ezra Stiles was the President of Yale College near the close of the last century, that is, from 1777 to 1795. Tradition tells us that he was a strict disciplinarian, a universal scholar, a sincere Christian; and, more particularly, he was the indefatigable collector of some forty manuscript volumes, which, bequeathed at his death to the archives of Yale College, are here stored in the reading room of the Library, within the identical yellow-painted pine case made to contain them. Allow me to introduce them to you, and, to a convenient extent, illustrate their contents. To begin, here are five volumes of an Itinerary, of whose composition you can judge from its name. We can picture the old Doctor, whenever he leaves home, if only for a pulpit exchange in the next village, with a dozen carefully folded sheets of paper, deposited in his breast pocket, and often in requisition to receive the pencil-record of some wayside incident or conversation; and then, wherever he halts, we see him ferreting out old or curious books, manuscripts, persons and things, until, filling at length his pocket companion with the results of these researches, he binds together some six hundred pages of such memoranda, and labels a volume of his Itinerary. But we have not yet seen half of our treasures. For here is a Literary Diary in fifteen volumes, extending over forty years, for the first half of which, Dr. Stiles was a pastor in Newport, R. I., and the latter half, President of this seat of learning. The voluminous pile, enriched with much to interest even the cursory reader, will doubtless afford material for some future attempt at a sketch of the literary history of North America during the last half of the eighteenth century. Here, too, is one precious volume of carefully selected statistics of the ecclesiastical history of New England, which has already served as a basis for so many later investigations that it now contains but little unpublished matter; yet, once look through it, and you may conceive what labor its compilation must have involved. Our survey is incomplete without notice of those half dozen volumes of thermometrical records, of those few volumes of transcripts from manuscript Journals, &c., valuable to New England history, but mostly existing now in print, with here a volume of miscellaneous Hebrew and Arabic writings, and there a volume of statistics deduced from thirty years' experience in raising silk-worms, and finally, if your interest is not overwearied, pause to look over the letters accumulated in these forty years, from correspondents in each quarter of the globe; a collection especially rich in American names, comprising celebrities of every grade, from Washington and Franklin to William Wickham. Of the handwriting of the last worthy, the redoubtable founder of the Linonian Society, a single specimen is here preserved, (let no unbelieving Brother question its authenticity!) dated in 1761, when the writer was a youthful "limb of the law." eight years after graduation, in New York City. I cannot attempt by selections to do justice to these invaluable. manuscripts, so I only add a few passages from the Itinerary and the Diary, as amusing or curious. And first read this instance of Rhode Island vindictiveness a century ago: "March 19, 1761.-This Winter was a Justice Court in Scituate in this Colony, at which were assembled most of the Justices of Gloucester, Smithfield, &c., where a monkey was indicted for spreading the small pox, upon the statute of this Colony, which makes it capital. He was formally arraigned, and upon his standing mute, evidences examined. He was found guilty, condemned and executed. He had in fact communicated the disease." Read another entry of the same year, and see how a minister of that age earned a new suit of clothes: "Jan. 20, 1761.-I preached a funeral sermon on the death of his majesty King George the Second, on which occasion the pulpit was hung in mourning, which after two or three Sabbaths was taken down and given to me, made up into a cloth coat and breeches, and a velvet coat and breeches." In May, 1781, Dr. Stiles visited Rev. Dr. Williams of Long Meadow, Mass., a Student in Harvard College from 1709 to 1713, and preserves this reminiscence: "Pres. Leverett expounded Scriptures twice a week publicly. He was on the tenth chapter of Genesis most of Dr. Williams' residence at College." Query: what time would be necessary for the exposition of the whole Bible, or even the Book of Genesis, at this rate? Read, moreover, the brief entry at the death of the first pastor of our own College Church. "March 5, 1781.-Occupied with taking inventory of Prof. Daggett's estate. £416 silver money, of which about £100 in Negroes." Dismissing the last clause without comment, I proceed to give you the President's recipe for a stomach-ache. "Feb. 6, 1783.-I resumed smoking, which I have left off almost five years:-for a pain in my breast." Perhaps you are skeptical in regard to the reputed length of sermons among the early generations of New England, and I select one out of many notes of Dr. Stiles, which set at rest our doubts: "May 17, 1787.-Preached at ordination of Mr. Henry Channing, New London. Sermon extended from XI. 47, to I. 36; (one hour forty-nine minutes)." Compare with the Chapel services of our day. Here is a notice of "Old South Middle," which was until 1793 "the new College." "Nov. 13, 1778.-The new College is 100 feet long and 40 feet wide, containing 32 rooms; three assigned to each room." The light in which the Brothers and Linonia were then regarded is a matter of interest, and to that end consider the following: "April 6, 1782.-There are two academic fraternities in College: the Linonian and the Brothers in Unity. ** *** They have carried all things secret in |