I ought not to conclude this article without letting the reader precisely know why this bright and genial spirit is no longer here to add to the world's harmless amusement. Well, this was the reason: wherever he lectured, whether in New England, California, or London, there was sure to be a knot of young fellows to gather round him, and go home with him to his hotel, order supper, and spend half the night in telling stories and singing songs. To any man this will be fatal in time; but when the nightly carouse follows an evening's performance before an audience, and is succeeded by a railroad journey the next day, the waste of vitality is fearfully rapid. Five years of such a life finished poor Charles Browne. He died in London, in 1867, aged thirtythree years; and he now lies buried at the home of his childhood in Maine.

He was not a deep drinker. He was not a man of strong appetites. It was the nights wasted in conviviality which his system needed for sleep, that sent him to his grave forty years before his time. For men of his profession and cast of character, for all editors, literary men, and artists, there is only one safety — TEETOTALISM. He should have taken the advice of a stage-driver on the Plains, to whom he once offered some whiskey, and I commend it strongly to every young man :—

"I DON'T DRINK. I WON'T DRINK ! AND I DON'T LIKE TO SEE ANYBODY ELSE DRINK, I'M OF THE OPINION OF THOSE MOUNTAINS- KEEP YOUR TOP COOL. THEY'VE GOT SNOW AND I'VE GOT BRAINS; THAT'S ALL THE DIFFERENCE."

JOSIAH QUINCY.

A MODEL GENTLEMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

BORN in 1772, and died in 1864! happy, prosperous, and virtuous life!

Ninety-two years of
How was it that, in

a world so full of the sick, the miserable, and the unfortunate, Josiah Quincy should have lived so long, and enjoyed, during almost the whole of his life, uninterrupted happiness and prosperity? Let us see.

He was born in Boston, in a house the walls of which are still standing, in a part of the city now called Washington Street. His father was that young Josiah Quincy who went away on a patriotic mission to London when this boy was three years of age, and only returned to die within sight of his native land, without having delivered the message with which Doctor Franklin had charged him. Left an orphan at so early an age, his education was superintended by one of the best mothers a boy ever had; and this was the first cause both of the length and of the happiness of his life. This admirable mother was so careful lest her fondness for her only son should cause her to indulge him to his harm, that she even refrained from caressing him, and, in all that she did for him, thought of his welfare first, and of her own pleasure last, or not at all. To harden him, she used to have him taken from a warm bed in winter, as well as in summer, and carried down to a cellar kitchen, and there dipped three times in a tub of cold water. She even accustomed him to sit in wet feet, and endeavored in all ways to

toughen his physical system against the wear and tear of

life.

This boy (who only died seven years ago) was old enough during the Revolutionary war to remember some of its incidents. "I imbibed," he once wrote, "the patriotism of the period, was active against the British, and with my little whip and astride my grandfather's cane, I performed prodigies of valor, and more than once came to my mother's knees declaring that I had driven the British out of Boston." Like all other healthy boys, he was a keen lover of out-of-door sports of every kind. "My heart," he wrote, "was in ball and marbles." And yet, in accordance with the custom of the schools of that time, he was compelled to sit on the same hard bench every day, four hours in the morning, and four hours in the afternoon, studying lessons which it was impossible so young a child could value or understand. A boy of less elastic mind and less vigorous constitution of body must have been injured by this harsh, irrational discipline. It seems only to have taught him patience and fortitude. Being a member of a rich and ancient family, he enjoyed every advantage of education which America then afforded, and graduated from Harvard College, in 1790, with honor. He was soon after admitted to the bar; but as he was not dependent upon his profession for a maintenance, he was not a very diligent or famous lawyer.

I have said that he was a very happy man.

This is

almost equivalent to saying that he was very happily mar ried, since the weal or woe of most men's lives chiefly depends upon the wisdom with which they choose their life's companion. Josiah Quincy was indeed most fortunately married, and yet he does not appear to have exercised his judgment in the choice of a wife. In seven days after he first saw her face, he was engaged to be married to her. It happened thus: —

On a certain Sunday evening, in 1794, being then twentytwo years of age, he went, according to his custom, to visit one of his aunts, who lived in Boston. He found at his aunt's house, a Miss Morton, a young lady from New York, of whom he had never before heard, and who was so little remarkable in her appearance, that she made no impression on his mind. In the course of the evening, a female relative who was present asked him to go into the next room, as she wished to consult him on some affair of business. While they were talking, the strange lady began to sing one of the songs of Burns with a clearness of voice, and with a degree of taste and feeling, which charmed and excited him beyond anything he had ever experienced. He immediately threw down the law papers which he had been examining, and returned to the company. Miss Morton sang several other songs, to the great delight of all who heard her, and to the unbounded rapture of this particular young gentleman. When the singing was over, he entered into conversation with her, and discovered her to be an intelligent, wellinformed, unaffected, and kind-hearted girl. In short, he fell in love with her upon the spot, and when the young lady left Boston a week after, he was engaged to her.

Some time elapsed, however, before they were married. She was a young lady of highly respectable connections and considerable fortune. The marriage was suitable in all respects, and they lived together fifty-three happy years. This most fortunate union was, no doubt, one of the main causes of the singular peace and uninterrupted happiness of his life.

It was expected, at that time, that a man of fortune, talents, and education, like Josiah Quincy, would enter public life. In 1805 he was elected a member of Congress by the Federalists of Boston, a party of which he was a warm adhe

rent, and to which he clung as long as it existed. His son tells us, in an excellent biography of his father recently published, that, to the last of his life, when he was in reality a member of the Republican party, the old man still called himself a Federalist. Having been elected to Congress, he did a most extraordinary thing: he actually set to work to prepare himself, by a study of politics and history, to discharge the duties of the place! He even learned the French language, in order to be able to converse with the foreign ministers and other Europeans whom he might meet in Washington. Besides this, he made a large collection of pamphlets, documents, and books relating to the history of his country, and to the political questions which had agitated it since the close of the Revolution.

He was, unquestionably, the ablest member of the Federal party in Congress at that time, and he served his party with a zeal and eloquence which was highly useful in keeping the administrations of Jefferson and Madison in the true path. Being myself in the fullest sympathy with Jefferson and Madison, I cannot think so highly of his Congressional career as, perhaps, his son would have us. But I can fully appreciate his honesty, his industry, his high-bred courtesy, and his admirable eloquence. His ardor in debate would have led to frequent challenges and duels, if he had not from the first made up his mind never to be bullied into an acquiescence with so barbarous a custom. In conversation with Southern members on the subject, he would say: "We do not stand upon equal grounds in this matter. If we fight and you kill me, it is a feather in your cap, and your constituents will think all the better of you for it. If I should kill you, it would ruin me with mine, and they never would send me to Congress again."

Reasoning of this kind the fire-eaters of 1810 could under