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vedge, and not restitution ; cruelty, not mercy ; alienation, and not repentance; and so it hedges in the offender from the offended, and hands the case over to the management of a number of unoffended minds. Witnesses, a jury, a judge, lawyers, a sheriff, and other officers, manage the affair dispassionately. Not so in the school. The teacher is the offended party, police, witness, lawyer, jury, judge, and sheriff. What is the result? Just what conventional wisdom assumes it would be. All seven offices are too often filled within the rapid succession of seven brief moments. Vengeance sometimes reserves the blow, and packs the culprit off to the horrible solitude of a room devoted to the purpose, to think upon his sins and look forward to the consequences of them, and wish he was big enough to whip the master. Flogging is too apt to be either the passionately blundering effort of a blind guide to lead one who knows the way into the right path, or else it is unmitigated brutality.

What is the professed object of the flogging ? Correction. What is correction ? It is the process of causing to turn from a wrong state of mind and a wrong course of action to a right state and a right course. What is the state of mind produced by the flogging? Disgust, resentment, insubordination, the memory of the flogger as an object of abhor. rence. What is the course of action produced by the flogging ? Covert disorder, truancy, or a resort to employment too early in life, or a resort to another school, or a suppression of native nobility. Correction! Perhaps it would be well to learn that saying, I will be treated rationally.

That is the point. Reason exists in the pupil. Being there, it instinctively insists on being respected. It is hard enough sometimes, it is true, to reach it. When it lies under rudeness or insensibility to good-will, or determined insubordination, then the reaching of it is hard. Inability to reach it, in any case, however, is a needless defect in the teachers. Difficulty is not impossibility. Reason exists in the most brutish, and in the most brutish it has been reached without corporal punishment. It can be done, however, only when neither pupil nor teacher is in a passion, and only when the teacher feels kindly towards the papil. An experienced teacher lately remarked, “So far as I have been able to control myself, I have been able, without the rod, to control my pupils." Large schools are kept in the best of order without the rod. Good-will is the law. Disorder there is unpopular, and so is shamed down. The question has, in the present generation, been pushed by facts beyond “theory” into law and settled belief. Certainly, humanity favors the law.

A YOUNGSTER, perusing a chapter in Genesis, turned to his mother and inquired if the people in those days used to do sums on the ground ? He had been reading the passage, “ And the sons of men multiplied on the face of the earth.”

THE OCEAN WINDS.*

W

HENCE come they? From the immeasurable deep. Their wide

the ocean solitude. The Atlantic, the Pacific—those vast blue plains -are their delight. They hasten thither in flocks. Commander Page witnessed, far out at sea, seven water-spouts at once. They wander there wild, terrible! The ever-ending yet eternal flux and reflux is their work.

The extent of their power, the limits of their will none know. They are the sphinxes of the abyss ; Gama was their Edipus. In that dark, ever-moving expanse, they appear with faces of cloud. He who perceives their pale lineaments in that wide dispersion, the horizon of the sea, feels himself in the presence of an unsubduable power. It might be imagined that the proximity of human intelligence disquieted them, and that they revolted against it. The mind of man is invincible, but the elements baffle him. He can do nothing against the power which is everywhere, and which none can bind. The gentle breath becomes a gale, smites with the force of a war club, and then becomes gentle again. The winds attack with a terrible crash, and defend themselves by falling into nothingness. He who would encounter them must use artifice. Their varying tactics, their swift, redoubled blows, confuse. They fly as often as they attack. They are tenacious and impalpable. Who can circumvent them? The prow of the Argo, cut from an oak of Dodona's grove, that mysterious pilot of the bark, spoke to them, and they insulted that pilot-goddess.

Columbus, beholding their approach near La Pinta, mounted upon the poop and addressed them with the first verses of St. Jobn's Gospel. Surcouf defied them : “Here come the gang," he used to say. Napier greeted them with cannon balls. They assume the dictatorship of chaos.

Chaos is theirs, in which to wreak their mysterious vengeance. The den of the winds is more monstrous than that of lions. How many corpses lie in its deep recesses, where winds beat without pity upon that obscure and ghastly mass! The winds are heard wheresoever they go, but they give car to none. Their acts resemble crimes. None know on whom they cast their hoary surf: with what ferocity they hover over shipwrecks, looking at times as if they flung their impious foam-flakes in the face of heaven. They are the tyrants of unknown regions. “Luoghi Spaventosi,” murmured the Venetian mariners.

The trembling fields of space are subjected to their fierce assaults. Things unspeakable come to pass in those deserted regions. Some horseman rides in the gloom; the air is full of a forest sound ; nothing is visible, but the tramp of cavalcades is heard. The noonday is overcast with sudden night; a tornado passes. Or it is midnight, which suddenly becomes bright as day ; the polar lights are in the heavens. Whirlwinds in opposite ways, and in a sort of hideous dance, a stamping of the storm upon the waters. A cloud, overburdened, opens and falls to earth. Other clouds, filled with red light, flash and roar, then frown again ominously. Emptied of their lightnings, they are but as spent brands. Pentup rains dissolve in mists. Yonder sea appears a fiery furnace in which the rains are falling ; flames seem to issue from the waves. The white gleam of the ocean under the shower is reflected to marvellous distances. The different masses transform themselves into uncouth shapes. Monstrous whirlpools make strange hollows in the sky. The vapors revolve, the waves spin, the giddy naiads roll ; sea and sky are level ; noises, as cries of despair, are in the air.

* From "The Toilers of the Sea."

Great sheaves of shadow and darkness are gathered up, trembling in the far depths of the sky At times there is a convulsion. The rumor becomes a tumult, as the wave becomes surge. The horizon, a confused mass of strata, oscillating ceaselessly, murmurs in a continual undertone. Strange and sudden outbursts break through the monotony. Cold airs rush forth, succeeded by warm blasts. The trepidation of the sea betokens anxious expectation, agony, terror profound.

Suddenly the hurricane comes down like a wild beast to drink the ocean--a monstrous draught—the water rises to the invisible mouth ; a mound of water is formed; the swell increases and the water-spout appears; the Prester of the ancients, stalactite above, stalagmite below; a whirling, double-inverted cone ; a point in equilibrium upon another, the embrace of two mountains—a mountain of foam ascending, a mountain of vapor descending—the terrible coition of the cloud and the wave. Like the column in Holy Writ, the water-spout is dark by day and luminous by night. In its presence the thunder itself is silent, and seems cowed.

The vast commotion of those solitudes has its gamut, a terrible crescendo. There is the gust, the gale, the tempest, the whirlwind, the waterspout, the seven chords of the lyre of the winds, the seven notes of the firmament. The heavens are a clear space, the sea a vast round ; breath passes, they have vanished, and all is fury and wild confusion.

Such are these inhospitable realms.

The winds rush, ily, swoop down, die out, and commence again ; hover above, whistle, roar, and smile ; frenzied, wanton, unbridled, or sinking at ease on the raging waves. Their howlings have a harmony of their own, They make all the heavens sonorous. They blow in the cloud as in a trumpet; they sing through the infinite space with the mingled tones of clarions, horns, bugles, and trumpets a sort of Promethean fanfare.

Such was the music of ancient Pan. Their harmonies are terrible. They have a colossal joy in the darkness. They drive and disperse great ships. Night and day, in all seasons, from the tropics to the poles, there

but a

is no truce; sounding their fatal trumpet through the tangled thickets of the clouds and waves, they pursue the grim chase of vessels in distress. They have their packs of bloodhounds, and take their pleasure setting them to bark among the rocks and billows. They huddle the clouds together, and drive them diverse. They mould and knead the supple waters as with a million hands.

The water is supple because it is incompressible. It slips away without effort. Borne down on one side, it escapes on the other. It is thus that waters become waves, and that the billows are a token of their liberty.

THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH.*

WELI

ELL may the story of the Atlantic Telegraph be termed the

romance of modern enterprise. Had it been written as pure fiction it would have been ridiculed as utterly impossible, and its hero would have been looked upon as a most exaggerated conception. The perseverance and moral courage of Mr. Field, the projector, are unequalled in history by any examples save those of Columbus and Galileo ; with these his name deserves to be joined as a benefactor of his race.

The project of laying a telegraph under the ocean from Europe to America grew out of the efforts of Mr. F. N. Gisborne to connect St. John's, Newfoundland, with the continent by means of a land telegraph over the island and a swift line of steamers plying across the gulf. Owing to breach of contract by this gentleman's company, his designs failed. In 1854 he came to New York, where he met Mr. Cyrus W. Field, to whom he communicated his plans. At first Mr. Field was unwilling to take any part with him, but afterwards, conceiving the possibility of connecting the two continents, he entertained the project more favorably. Having consulted Prof. Morse and Lieut. Maury, and received encouraging answers, he determined to lay the Atlantic Telegraph. His plan was to gain as coadjutors, ten capitalists, who among themselves could readily raise one million of dollars to be expended in the effort. He succeeded in securing four beside himself. All were men of great wealth, Peter Cooper, Moses Taylor, Chandler White, and Marshall 0. Roberts. These determined to prosecute the matter without further assistance, and in the fall Mr. Field, D. D. Field, legal adviser of the new company, and Mr. Chandler White went to Newfoundland, to obtain a charter for the New York, Newfoundland, and London Telegraphic Company. These gentlemen were received with great cordiality by the governor, who, by advice of the council, immediately represented the matter favorably to the Legislature, then in session. This body guaranteed £50,000 in bonds of the company, and granted it fifty square miles of land, with the exclusive privilege for fifty years of laying cables on that portion of the island.

* HISTORY OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. By Henry M. Field, D.D. New York: Scribner & Co. 12mo, pp. 370. $1.75.

This secured, the company set to work. Their first labor was to construct across the island, from St. John's to Cape, Ray, a bridle path, eight feet in width, along which to erect the overland line of telegraph. This was no light matter. No roads existed, the interior of the island was uninhabited, and, as far as had been explored, consisted only of morasses and jungles. But the enthusiasm of the company admitted of no obstacles. Six hundred men were immediately employed, and in less than two years four hundred miles of road were constructed. We have not the space, even if we possessed the ability, to give a just acconnt of this vast work. The difficulties and dangers overcome by the engineers and laborers are surpassed by no modern effort except the Darien expedition,

In the meantime, a submarine cable had been manufactured to connect the island and mainland. In August, 1855, it arrived at Cape Ray, and on the 7th of August the incorporators, with a large party of friends, sailed from New York in the James Adger to see the successsful completion of the first part. But the company was ignorant of the difficulties before them. The shore line of the cable was fastened, and the vesssel containing the coils set out for the mainland. When forty miles had been paid out a fearful storm arose, and, after a few hours, it was necessary to cut the cable to save the vessel. The James Adger returned to New York. Some members of the company favored a dissolution, but others insisted upon another effort. Mr. C. W. Field was sent to Europe ; a new cable was constructed and successfully laid in 1856.

Thus far all was success; but the million of dollars, originally regarded as sufficient to cover all expenditures, was wholly spent. The company felt unwilling to shoulder the remaining responsibility, and Mr. Field was sent to England to awaken public interest there. At first his reception was cold, but the experiments of Profs. Morse, Thomson, and Fairbairn proved the feasibility of working a cable two thousand miles long, and the soundings by Lieut. Berryman had proved the existence of an extensive plateau on the bed of the ocean along the proposed route. Public opinion changed. The government became interested, and the Atlantic Telegraph Company was formed, with a capital of £350,000 divided into three hundred and fifty shares of £1,000 each. Of these all were taken in Great Britain, excepting eighty-eight which were taken and paid for by Mr. Field, who thereby gave evidence of his confidence in the undertaking. To this company the charter of the New York, Newfoundland and London Company was made over.

Being now in working order, the company, in December, 1856, contracted for the manufacture of the cable, one-half being given to Messrs. Glass, Elliott & Co., of London, and the other half to Messrs. R. S. Newall

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