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make himself believe anything he pleases; nor do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so that men are not tempted to lie or disguise their opinions among them, which, being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the Utopians."

It is much to be regretted, that, understanding so well the theory of toleration, More should have betrayed in his later writings of a controversial character a very different spirit, and have given place to expressions which are quite inconsistent with his former opinions; yet it is due to him, that we should bear in mind that toleration was a thing almost unknown in his time; that he was a zealous and conscientious member of a church which not only permitted persecution, but enjoined it as a duty, and even exacted an oath from her priests to persecute heretics and schismatics to the utmost of their power; and that, nevertheless, no instance can be adduced of a single person being put to death for religious opinions whilst he held the office of Lord Chancellor. No circumstance can attest more strongly the essential iniquity of such a system than the baneful influence which it exercised upon the benevolent and tolerant disposition of Sir Thomas More.

The reputation of Sir Thomas More does not depend, like that of many men who have received the praises of the world, upon any accidental association of his name with circumstances or events of a striking or brilliant character; he did not stand forth as an idol to be adored by the vulgar, in the adventitious lustre of rank, or wealth, or power; it was by no distinguished achievement, nor by any happy stroke of policy, that his name has been sounded abroad; it is by the whole consistent course of his life, by the dignity and moderation with which he sustained the highest honours and the deepest adversity, that his character must be estimated; and, judged by these tests-if we do not confirm the decision of Swift, who assigned a place to More amongst a sextumvirate selected from the illustrious of all ages-we shall not err in assigning to him a lofty rank amongst the truly great and good men.

The habitual cheerfulness of More, which did not desert him on the scaffold, has sometimes been objected to, as evincing the absence of sentiments befitting such an occasion. The remarks of Addison on this subject are so just that we will introduce them here:-" He died upon a point of religion, and is respected as a martyr by that side for which he suffered. That innocent mirth which had been so conspicuous in his life, did not forsake him to the last; he maintained the same cheerfulness of heart upon the scaffold which he used to show at his table; and upon laying his head on the block, gave instances of that good humour with which he had always entertained his friends in the most ordinary occurrences. His death was of a piece with his life; there was nothing in it new, forced, or affected. He did not look upon the severing his head from his body as a circumstance that ought to produce any change in the disposition of his mind; as he died under a fixed and settled hope of immortality, he thought any unusual degree of sorrow or concern improper on such an occasion, as it had nothing in it which could deject or terrify him."

It would be improper to close our sketch of the life of Sir Thomas More, without paying a tribute of praise to his daughter Margaret,

who, by her constant affection, her attentions during his imprisonment, and still more by the heroic manner in which she encouraged him to persevere in the course dictated by conscience, has earned an enduring reputation, and associated her name in the annals of everlasting fame with that of her illustrious father.

May 14, 1846.

ANECDOTES OF SCHMITZ, A GERMAN ARTIST.

SOME years ago, while Professor Krahe was superintendent of the gallery of paintings, he received a visit from a young baker of the town; who, after a very short introduction, took a book out of his pocket, which he presented to Mr. Krahe, expressing a desire that he would purchase it. The superintendent found, upon examination, that it was a prayer-book, ornamented in the ancient style of religious foppery, with a number of coloured figures and engravings. It was the one which the elector, Clement Augustus, of Cologne, had ordered to be published, and was become very scarce and valuable. The Professor inquired whence he had it; and the young man answered, with a modest blush, that it was a copy from one he had borrowed. "By whom?" "By myself," rejoins the youth. Upon a close examination, Mr. Krahe could scarcely distinguish the copy from the original. He could not conceal his surprise, and asked why he did not practise engraving rather than continue a baker?

The youth answered, that it was the wish of his soul; but his father, having a numerous family, could not afford the expense of suitable instructions. "I design to travel," adds he; "but as my father cannot furnish the means, and as I knew you are fond of drawings, I was emboldened to make this application to you, in hopes that you would purchase the copy, to furnish immediate help, and I must trust to my industry and good fortune for future advancement."

"Call here to-morrow, without fail," says Mr. Krahe, with an emphasis that manifested pleasure and astonishment.

Early the next morning, the professor called upon an intimate friend at Keyserswerth, a few miles distant from Dusseldorf; of which place the young man was a native.

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This friend, with the power, had the disposition to do good. Krahe told him the story, showed him the workmanship, and begged him to lend the young man three hundred crowns. "He will, doubtless," adds he, "become, in a few years, a distinguished engraver, and be able to reimburse you. I will be security for the payment."

"I take no security," answered his friend; and he advanced three hundred crowns.

Krahe returned to the astonished and transported baker with the money. He quitted the oven, learned geometry and perspective, applied to drawing according to the rules of the art, and acquired a competent knowledge of history.

After assiduous application for the space of two years the young man had made such rapid progress, that Mr. Krahe advised him to quit Dusseldorf, where no further improvement was to be expected, and visit Paris, promising him a letter of introduction to Mr. Willes, a celebrated engraver in that metropolis.

Schmitz (for this was the young man's name) put his advice into execution; and, in order to economise his little store, he travelled on foot from Dusseldorf to Paris. But, unfortunately, he fell ill immediately upon his arrival; and, although he applied to a monastery, where he was hospitably received, and carefully attended, yet incidental expenses, during an illness of some continuance, had entirely exhausted his little store. Upon his recovery, that delicate kind of pride, which so frequently accompanies true genius, forbade his making application to Mr. Willes, while he must appear as an indigent beggar. One day, as he was walking pensively in the streets, his mind occupied with his unfortunate situation, he was met by two soldiers of the Swiss guards; one of whom accosted him with the inquiry, "Young man, are you not a German ?”

"Yes."

"From whence ?"

"From Keyserswerth, near Dusseldorf."

"You are my countryman-what do you do here ?"

Schmitz relates to him the particulars of his history; adding, that a long illness had exhausted a large portion of his time, and all his money; and that he could not support the idea of being troublesome to any one. The soldiers advised him to enlist, assuring him that the service was not severe, and that he would have leisure to follow the bent of his genius. Schmitz accepted the proposition; was introduced to the captain of the regiment; was enlisted for four years; and, shortly after, was introduced to Mr. Willes by the captain himself. As much time was indulged to him as the nature of the service could possibly admit, to pursue his favourite object, under the direction of Mr. Willes. He continued in this situation the four years, when he received his dismission.

Finding that he was in the line of improvement, he continued at Paris two years longer, applying himself, with the utmost diligence, to the art of engraving; at the expiration of which term, he returned home, with the best attestations concerning his talents, industry, and moral conduct.

Professor Krahe received him with open arms; was charmed with the progress he had made; and engaged him to work in the cabinet. He continued to work under the inspection of the professor about two years, conducting himself in such a manner as to gain upon the affections of his patron.

It was about this period that the professor invited our artist to an entertainment, where several of his friends were to be present. He met his friends, and was entering into the joys of convivial intercourse, when he was informed that the entertainment was in honour of a stranger. But, alas! this stranger was the destined husband of the professor's eldest daughter-beautiful, in his eyes, as an angel; and wise, in his judgment, as the goddess of wisdom. He made as precipitate a retreat

as decency would permit, and left the brisk glass and jovial song to circulate among the happy.

The next morning he returned to the cabinet with the utmost dejection of mind and countenance. This sudden change was noticed by his benefactor, who inquired into the cause. Schmitz, in confused expressions, and with faultering voice, confessed that he had fallen deeply in love with that very daughter who was shortly to be in the possession of another.

"Have you intimated to my daughter the strength of your affection ?" "Never," answered the noble youth; "not in the most distant manner. Could I, without title, fortune, or pretensions of any kind, be so base as to speak of love to the daughter of my friend, my patron, my benefactor? I was contented to see her, and was careful to conduct myself in such a manner that no suspicions might arise, to debar me of that happiness; and now I learn that I am shortly to be deprived of the only satisfaction to which I dared to aspire."

The benevolent professor tried his utmost to soothe and comfort him -assured him of the strength of his affection, that he loved him as his own child—but warned him to subdue his love for Henrietta; expatiating upon the criminality, circumstanced as they were, of indulging the passion.

The poor young man admitted the force of the argument, and promised to obey. But the struggle was too much for his constitution. He fell ill, and continued in a dangerous state upwards of four months. Mr. Krahe paid him every attention, and gave him every consolation in his power. But, in all their interviews, the name of Henrietta was never mentioned. His lamentable situation, however, could not be concealed from her. She sympathised, and most sincerely pitied ; but, though "pity is so near akin to love," duty and honour interposed a a barrier between them.

The intended husband returned to his parents; and it was not difficult to perceive, from the tenure of his letters, that certain objections were started by them to the union. Although he dared not to express his own sentiments fully upon this occasion, yet Henrietta divined them, and gave him full power to follow the genuine bent of his own inclinations, renouncing every claim upon his promise. The answer was correspondent to her expectations; and allowing a short interval for the suppression of that chagrin which the injured pride of every young lady must suffer in such delicate situations, she permitted the sufferings of Schmitz to engage more of her thoughts, generously indulged her compassion, until she found it blended with affection, and, finally, addressed her father thus:-"Sir, I know it has been your wish to have Schmitz for your son-in-law. Every obstacle is removed. Tell him that Henrietta will be his if she can promote his felicity."

The joyful father informed him of this declaration in his favour. But the good news was as likely to have proved fatal, as his despair. Recovering from his emotion, and leaning on the arm of his benefactor, he was conducted to the generous object of his passion; and by passing the evening in her company, he was cheered, comforted, and restored.

But how great was the surprise of every one when they learned, the

next morning, that the lover had left the town, in a carriage with four horses, and had carried his plates and drawings with him. What astonishment to Krahe! What a thunder-stroke to poor Henrietta!

This was so apparently the act of a disordered brain, that his return was as much dreaded as his flight was lamented. Nor did they receive a single line in the interval, to remove their doubts. On the ninth day he returned from Munich, with an order for a pension of six hundred florins per annum, to be paid to Schmitz by the treasurer of the palatinate.

He had been to throw himself at the feet of the elector palatine. He discovered to him his love,-his situation; showed him the certificates of his conduct, and the specimens of his workmanship. The heart of the elector was moved, and he gave him a pension.

"Now, Sir," says the generous-hearted Schmitz, "I am more worthy of my Henrietta."

This event took place in the year 1782.

THOUGHTS UPON THE STUDY OF ASTRONOMY.

To whichever part of the earth we look, we find it replete with the works of creative power and wisdom, which are pre-eminently adapted to arrest our attention and to incite us to consideration and thoughtfulness; for, in comparison with the very least of these works of nature, all human art and human grandeur sink into insignificance and nothingness. Thus even "Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these lilies." And when the earth is viewed as a whole, with its mighty burden of continents and islands, of oceans and seas, with all the millions of their teeming inhabitants, the mind, finding itself unable to form anything like a distinct or comprehensive idea of its true magnitude, or fully to search into and comprehend the numerous and diversified objects which it presents to view, is filled with ineffable wonder and admiration, and is led to look with greater reverence and awe to that Almighty Being who at first called it into existence, and who still directs and governs all its affairs.

But while thus contemplating the vastness and variety of the globe which has been appointed for our dwelling-place, we are apt to think too highly of our own importance,- -as if the earth with its inhabitants, which to our finite minds appears, indeed, of vast extent, were alone sufficient to engage the whole attention of the Deity; but we have only to look from the platform of this lower world, and to contemplate by the light of science the azure canopy with which it is encircled, when we find the creative power of God has not been limited to the globe upon which we tread, for the heavens also declare his glory, and the firmament showeth forth his handywork, so that at night we see it bespangled with countless orbs, many of which are of greater magnitude than the earth, all flying through space with inconceivable rapidity,

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