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From western realms he bids dark ignorance fly,
As flies the night before the dawning rays:
So long as grateful bosoms beat, shall high

YALE'S sons and pious fathers sing his praise.

On the covers and title pages of the "Yale Literary Magazine," a monthly periodical which has been kept up by the students of Yale College for the last thirteen years, with a perseverance and an ability that reflects upon them great credit, may be seen a wood-cut imitating this likeness; and under it the last two lines in Latin already mentioned, which have been thus set apart as a motto of the college for so many years, that they have gained a consecratedness of character, amounting almost to sanctity.

And now, as we are in the way of quoting poetry, we cannot refrain from giving one more extract, which is valuable, not so much for any poetic merit that it intrinsically possesses, as for its antiquity, and appropriateness to the subject of which we are treating. It is from a poem entitled "The Benefactors of Yale College:" and was printed at Boston in the year 1733.

The pile by Yale's beneficence was raised,
Who pious honors to his country paid,

And deep and strong the sure foundations laid,
Of virtuous learning in his native soil,

A generous bounty and a God-like toil.

His country back her grateful vows repeats,
And Yale in every thankful bosom beats :

Still Learning shall the pleasant strokes prolong,
Coeval with herself in gentle song:

To live beyond her melancholy fate
Would be dishonor and a death too late.
So the divine Astrea lived below

As long as justice like a stream did flow,

But when the smooth and equal current failed,
The winged goddess through the ether sailed.

Of Gov. Yale's personal character and habits, but little has been handed down to us by direct description. President Clap remarks, that he was a gentleman who greatly abounded in good humor and generosity, as well as in wealth. Indeed we should have inferred thus much in regard to him, from the facts we have already recited in his history, and from the features of the portrait at the head of our article. Notwithstanding the huge wig

As wigs of this character have now passed entirely out of use, and as the curious are always desirous to learn on such topics, it may not be

he has on a fashion peculiar to those days-we still see enough of the shape of his head, and of his open generous looking features, to assure us that he loved a good joke, a good bargain, and a good dinner that he was possessed of a full hand, an open heart, and a sympathising spirit; and yet that he had enough of self respect, self possession, and of self restraint, to gain the good will, the respect, and the esteem of his fellow men wherever he went. In short, that he had just those characteristics, that, when duly combined, are sure elements of success in business, of an honored life, and a happy old age. And what we know of his history, all tends to confirm us in the same opinion. To have amassed such a princely fortune, he must have had energy, perseverance, and hope, all prominent in his character. In addition to these, there must have been judicious early training, correct habits of business, and a bold enterprising spirit. To have gained the stations in life which he was called to occupy, he must have possessed an honesty and frankness of character that secured the confidence of his fellow men; a kindness of manner that gained their good will; and a dignity of carriage that won their respect. And to have been so ready to impart of his substance for the public good, there must have been a spirit trained to benevolent deeds, a

out of place to say a word here upon this subject. In the time of Gov. Yale, large wigs of various fashions and colors, were much in vogue. They were wrought into a net work and curled with great care and expense-some being curled all over, like that worn by the Governorothers curled only at the bottom-others still with the end formed into a cue or tail, which was suffered to hang at full length upon the shoulders, or done up in folds so that it would flap up and down as the wearer rode upon horseback. The more expensive wigs, (or periwigs as they were formerly called, and sometimes perukes) were made of hu man hair cut from the heads either of the living or the dead; while the cheaper were made of hair cut from the manes or tails of horses. Divines, and sometimes other men, wore white wigs, like the one seen in the portrait of Pres. Stiles, in the gallery of paintings connected with the Yale College. In those days, wigs were worn not merely for baldness, but for ornament, and by all who could afford them. Students wore them during College life, and as much thought they must have a new one to graduate in, as they now think they must have a new coat for that purpose. The Romans, in the time of Cato, wore wigs made out of the yellow hair of the Germans. And in some ages of the world even ladies, have attempted to increase their charms by the use of wigs. The fashion of heavy wigs would probably never have been introduced in a climate like our own. But the cool climate of England afforded some apology for their use, and dame Fashion at once brought them across the

water.

heart alive to the wants of the world, and a mind enlightened by knowledge and wisdom. To how high a degree, Gov. Yale possessed these several characteristics, is beyond our power to determine. But we may safely conclude that he was a noble specimen of a man, and one whose character is well worthy our study, our admiration, and our imitation.

We can only say in closing, would that there were many in our country ready to go and do likewise. In judging of what Yale did, we are not to regard the amount simply, nor the proportion of his whole estate with which he parted, for the benefit of the world. For in these respects merely, he has been outdone by many who have followed after him. But we need to keep in mind all the circumstances under which it was done. It was given at a time when popular education was but just beginning to attract attention; and for a part of the world which, with here and there an exception, was a savage wilderness. It was given to an institution, which scarcely yet had a name or a place on the earth, and at periods when the hopes of its friends were well nigh extinguished. Small as was the amount, it probably decided the fate of that institution. It survived those long and doubtful struggles for birth. It grew from infancy to youth, and from youth to manly age. And now, as it flourishes in all its vigor, and sends forth, year after year, and generation after generation, its healing influences to every part of the world, who can measure the benefits of those timely donations, or compute the value of the rich harvests of good they have already produced? None save he, who has "weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance." Our Western world is another such wilderness, only vastly greater and more thickly set with error, delusion and death. The Catholic, the infidel, the wild fanatic, and the mad devotee of Mammon, are all combining their efforts to overrun and destroy. Here and there in that wilderness, scores of such institutions are at this moment struggling for very being. Where are the Yales, who will come forward and furnish the charities, that will nourish them into manhood? In their existence, under God, is our hope, the hope of our country, the hope of our race. To the like noble deeds of their ancestors are the men of wealth indebted, in no small degree, for opening the chanels through which this wealth has flowed freely into their coffers. If they would be just to

themselves—just to their country-just to posterity; they must pay back some portion of their immense gains to sources similar to those whence they were derived. And let them not forget that Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

G. B. D.

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.

A PICTURE BY G. FLAGG.

At prayer!—at prayer, upon the snow-clad rock,
The cold, bleak sky above them.

Holy man,

Heart on thy lips, and Bible in thy hand,
Pour forth, as far as feeble speech may do,
The intense emotion of the gather'd throng.

Rest on thy sword, thou man of blood, and muse,
Thy fading Rose beside thee. Bow and ask
Strength for new warfare, when the savage foo
Shall plant his ambush, and the secret shaft

Ring through the forest, while the war-whoop wakes
The frighted infant, on its mother's breast.

Prithee, John Alden, say thy prayers with zeal,
Forgetful of thy comeliness, and her

Who Cupid's subtle snare shall weave for thee,
When here and there, the settler's roofs shall mix
With the fresh verdure of this stranger soil.

Oh, noble, Carver! boundless is thy wealth,
In the pure heart that thus doth cling to thine,
With all the trustfulness of woman's love,
And all its firm endurance. He who boasts
Such comforters, shall find the barren heath
Thick sown with flowers of Eden.

Pale, and sweet,
Ah! suffering bride of Winslow, 'tis in vain
That thus he fondly clasps thy fragile hand,
He may not guard thee from the ghastly foe
That on thy forehead stamps the seal of doom.

He cannot keep thee, lady. Snows may chill
Thy feet. that England's richest carpets prest,
A little while, and then the soul that sets
Bright on thine, upraised eye, shall heavenward soar.

Oh lone and tiny May-Fower ark that touch'd
Our Ararat, without a herald-dove

Or greeting leaf of olive,-speed thy course
Homeward in hope. For lienceforth shalt thou be
Remember'd thro' all time. Thou, who hast been
Seed-bearer for a nation, shalt be held
Right blessed for thy deed, and on the lip
Of each succeeding race, shalt freshly dwell
With holy memories of those pilgrim sires

Who taught New England's wilds, Jehovah's name.

L. H. S.

IRELAND A THOUSAND YEARS AGO.

ROLL back the tide of time; lift up the veil ages have woven, retrace the historic page and look at Ireland as she hath been. Judge her not as she appears now, cast down and broken-hearted beneath the tyranny of a foreign power, but judge her as she appeared when she was known as the Sacred-Isle, and when her still retreats were devoted to Science, to Christianity, and to Truth. Centuries ago the fairest, greenest Isle beneath the Sun stood pre-eminent for her talent, her learning and her piety. Her missionaries equalled in number those of Rome, and her children left friends, home and all, to bear abroad the great doctrines of the Cross. History and fiction are so intimately blended in the early accounts of nations that it is a delicate task to separate the real from the imaginary, and especially is this true in regard to Ireland, when vanity and a wounded pride would prompt each one to trust these brilliant dreams of former glory. But dating from 453, when in Tara's halls, St. Patrick first observed the blessed festival of Easter, events begin to stand forth stripped from the

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