I shall conclude with one, which like most modern translations, since those of Pope and Dryden, entirely loose sight of the original; though as it is the motto of our club, and tends to curb intruders, I think myself justified in giving it, notwithstanding a little false Latin, owing to Horace, not me. Omne tulit punctum: let every man bring in his pint.

Kewanneo che kitteru!-Indian.

This is my right and I will defend it.

When William Penn first landed in America, an Indian standing on the beach, with his bow and arrows in his hand, thus addressed the stranger, and would have proceeded to extremities, had not the mild and placid countenance of that great and worthy man disarmed the haughty savage, and lulled his fears to rest.

In commemoration of this, the original Indian words were inscribed on the Schuylkill-gun, now lying dismounted at fort Mifflin, where I once observed two gentlemen (well skilled in classic lore) decyphering the inscription. They both agreed that it was Greek, though neither could tell what it meant till I explained it to them.

The striking resemblance between the Greek and Indian languages exhibited in the above anecdote, no doubt occasioned their mistake; but as it may put to rest the long contested question respecting the origin of the Indians, and incontestibly prove that Eneas, or some of his followers, first peopled this western world, I trust you will give it a place in your interesting pages.

AMERICAN SCENERY:-FOR THE PORT FOLIO,

VIEW ON THE ST. LAWRENCE.

THIS view on the river St. Lawrence, is taken from a situation between Trois Rivieres and Quebec; it exhibits one of those beautiful and extensive reaches which are frequently seen in a ride from Montreal to Quebec, and which characterize the picturesque scenery of this majestic river.

ACCOUNT OF THE LATE MR. BALL.

THE following correspondence will be read with no ordinary degree of attention by all who are interested in the progress of the arts among us, or who can feel for the premature loss of distinguished talents. For ourselves, we contemplate with singular pleasure this young and ardent genius struggling with difficulties, and forcing himself into public notice and respect by the na tive energies of his mind. His example, however melancholy the termination of his life, will, at least, serve to convince the youth of our country, who feel the divine inspirations of genius, that no obscurity of situation, no pecuniary obstacles should be permitted to quell the rising impulse of generous ambition. Immediately as the situation of Mr. Ball was known, the free career of the arts was opened to him, and had his improvement corresponded with his exertions, he had nothing to dread from the want of friends, or patrons, or public encouragement. How far these anticipations might have been realised, or what loss the arts have sustained by his death, can now be only conjectured; but the ingenuous history of his first efforts, the simple, modest, and manly avowal of his situation and prospects, and his zealous devotion to the elegant arts, afford the strongest evidences of private worth, while the specimens of his untutored talents, which are deposited in the Pennsylvania academy, give the fairest promise of future eminence. The part which Mr. Murray bears in this correspondence, is not less entitled to our consideration. It is at once disinterested, candid, and generous; conferring equal honour on the pupil and the master.

LETTER FROM MR. BALL, JUN. TO MR. GEORGE MURRAY, ENGRAVER, PHILADELPHIA.

Winchester, Virginia, February 20, 1813. SIR-You will no doubt be very much surprised by receiving a letter from a total stranger, and on a subject so very uncommon; indeed I feel diffident of my success in the application I am about to make to you, and have been more than once almost tempted to abandon it from the apprehension that you would regard it as a romantic notion, if not an impertinent one; but for once my anxious wishes have got the better of my fears, and I will, at all hazards, make known to you my views.

I wish to become your pupil for the purpose of being instructed in the art of engraving; the wish is a bold one, and would merit the neglect it might receive if it went unaccompanied with the reasons I have for making the request; in order to do so, I hope you will not think it improper for me to say, that although living in a part of the country where a taste for the fine arts, if at all known, is only known to be despised, and where all efforts for the cultivation of them are received with contempt or indifference, from a fancied conviction of their inutility or unprofitableness. With all these discouraging causes, which indeed almost universally prevail, I have always felt a warm and partial fondness for the few productions of the fine arts that have been within my reach. I mention the arts generally; it would be more proper for me to speak of engraving alone; for I never saw a statue, or indeed a painting, if the few old fashioned portraits that decorate the rooms of one or two houses in this town, and the rude productions of a sign painter, are excepted, and should have but a wretched idea of these two noble arts, had it not been for the descriptions that I have read, or the few, very few engra vings I have seen of them; yet these have been sufficient to awaken a desire to cultivate a fondness for the least considerable, but perhaps not the least useful of the fine arts.

Accident enabled me to become a reader of the Port Folio, and when I there learned that the elegant engravings in it were the productions of an art yet in its infancy in this country, my desire for becoming acquainted with it was increased; and the name of Murray was too conspicuous to hesitate in choosing my master. But there is, besides gaining your consent, two formidable difficulties that I have to encounter; for although totally ignorant of the way that instruction is given, or what are the reasonable expectations of the scholar when he has made sufficient progress in the art to render his works worthy of public notice, as it regards employment and the means of living comfortably. I am by no means unaware that a course of instruction would require both money and time: the last difficulty does not alarm me so much as the first, for I have read of several eminent engravers that commenced the art when they have been much older than I am: I have just completed my nineteenth year, and with such encouraging examples before me, I am not without hopes, that after having obtained the patronage of an eminent master, with unremitted attention and industry, I might in time become useful and respectable. The first objection is a more serious one; my family, though respectable, want the means of affording me the necessary assistance; and my present situation, a clerk in a store, with the scanty allowance I receive, is by no means favourable to the saving a sum of money sufficient for me to encounter t he expenses of living in Philadelphia: with the strictest economy I have not been able to save but little more than two hundred dollars, which I am but too well convinced is very inadequate.

You discover that I am writing on, as though I was sure that my wishes could not meet with a repulse, when I am far from being certain that I have

in the least interested you in my favour: fearing that this might be the case, the only advocates I have, are to be found in the enclosure with this letter; the three pictures that you will find there, are printed from copperplates, which I have engraved: on them I place my hopes, and have fondly imagined that they will not prove ineffectual; not from any merit you could possibly discover in them as the works of an artist, but only as the productions of a youth, who, so far from being acquainted with the art, has really never seen an engraver or an engraver's plate but his own, and is entirely without the means of instruction, even in the most trivial part: such is really my situ. ation. No sooner had I formed a wish in earnest for becoming an artist, than the necessity of attempting something in that way occurred to me. I had in reading Hall's Dictionary of the Arts and Sciences, met with the article Etching; the apparent ease that seemed to attend the process, was a sufficient inducement for me to make a trial: the work was begun on a piece of copper, purchased from a smith in this town, but it was more difficult by far than I had at first imagined; after two very discouraging attempts, I did not despair, and at last I was enabled to make a sort of a copy from a plate in "The Freemason's Magazine," which had the name of Kneass at the bottom; it is Leucippe and her babe: I selected it in preference to any other, because it was engraved without shading. The varnish I used was made after directions in the book above mentioned; and my only tool was the common needle.

I need not attempt to describe to you the delight I felt at the success of my experiment; It served to awaken hopes that have not since that time (at least one year ago) been diminished; which still exist in their full vigour, and perhaps only want your indulgence to be realized. The duties that my present employment requires, prevented me from pursuing my new discovery, without the most mortifying interruptions and delays; in fact, some months intervened before I had an opportunity of making another trial, and then I thought of using an engraving tool alone without aqua-fortis. The smith who made my first plate, from the mouth of an old still (not having any other copper likely to answer) furnished me with two more: with a great deal of labour, I made them smooth on one side; from a silversmith I got the only tool for engraving that I have used-it is such a one as he cuts in itials on sleevebuttons with. I went to work at times stolen from the storeroom, and engraved a plate. I was pleased to find that the thing was possible; it was done better than I could have hoped for when it was begun, but not as I wanted. Chance put the original picture of Faith in my hands; without ever having received a lesson in drawing, whieh I now know is indispensably necessary, I tried to copy it; and still more, I have ventured to offer it (along with my etching) to your notice; but not before I have felt assured that they will receive all the friendly indulgence from you that they so much want. After my plates were done, my next concern was to get prints from

them. I got a small rolling-mill made of wood; it was patterned after a sil.. versmith's plating-mill. After being disappointed in trying common prin-, ter's ink, through the politeness of a friendly gentleman I got a small vial full of the right kind from Philadelphia. When I had succeeded so far, it only served to excite my passion for the pleasing employment. With much trouble I procured two plates from Philadelphia, on which I determined to bestow all my untaught skill. I had chosen a subject, and nearly finished it, when the Port Folio for November put into my possession the beautiful figure of "The Tribute Money;" it was a golden opportunity not to be missed. I felt an irresistible desire to place my humble name on the same plate with that of a Rubens and a Murray. I hope you will pardon my presumption. After seven Sundays' close and assiduous application, I ventured to print it, and now offer it to you; but not before I have asked the same consideration for it that my others required. I will here venture to observe, that I am satisfied of my ability to do much better work now than that which has been sent, particularly in etching. I know you will think it reasonable for me to demand some consideration for the many vexations I have had to encounter whilst engraving a plate. The last one was engraved entirely on Sundays, for want of other opportunities. I am sensible it would have been better done could I have bestowed uninterrupted time and attention on it.

I have not been thus particular in describing the progress of my works to you to gratify a ridiculous confidence, or to attempt inspiring you with opinions of me which would hereafter prove to be false; the very idea of which I detest: a very different motive has influenced me-I wished to interest you, not by artful deception, but by artless truth. In becoming an engraver, I have not only promised myself indulgence in a pursuit, of which I am passionately fond, but also a respectable employment that might afford me an honourable subsistence.

If I thought you were sufficiently interested in my favour, I would venture to solicit an early answer to the following questions-Can I be taken under your care as a scholar? If I should be so fortunate, how long a time will it require to make myself useful to you, provided I am attentive and ready to learn? and what expense will I be at in the meantime?-here I beg you to remember that my whole fortune cannot possibly exceed two hundred dollars, when I arrive in Philadelphia. Lastly, what reasonable expectations may I en tertain of supporting myself decently and reputably as an artist? It certainly is proper that you should know something of the character of a person who wishes so much of you: all I can say is, only be favourably disposed otherways, and I will warrant you satisfaction on that score. As this application is made to you without the knowledge of any person, if you should determine to reject it, be good enough to suppress this letter, and bury the whole transaction in oblivion; but, sir, if you have ever bent your whole soul on the attainment of a particular object; if it has been the constant attendant of