gives to the mind the victory over matter, and makes man, as he was designed to be, the lord of the terrestrial creation. But the best, and perhaps the only way of judging of the Baconian, as of all other systems, is to consider its results. This is the great criterion that the father of modern philosophy has himself laid down, in the sixty-third aphorism of Nov. Org., in these remarkable words: "Wherefore, as in religion, faith is proved by its works, so in philosophy, it were to be wished that those theories be accounted vain, which, when tried by their fruits, are barren; much more those which, instead of grapes and olives, have produced only the thorns and thistles of controversy." What, then, are some of the grapes and olives of the Baconian philosophy-its grapes and olives even in its infancy? How do they compare with the thorns and thistles of Greece and Rome, and the schools? How would Plato, himself, the Homer of Grecian philosophy, if permitted to return to earth from his fabled elysium, admire the triumphs of the Baconian school? He would everywhere see the results of an arithmetic more wonderful, of a geometry more sublime, than that required of those who were admitted to the mysteries of the Academy. He would see mathematical and physical science trace the wild comet, at which ignorance and superstition long trembled, in its eccentric flight through the abyss of space, and foretell, with unfailing accuracy, its approach to earth, hundreds of years after the prophet of science was laid in his grave. He would see the satellites of Jupiter made the satellites of man-kindly and surely guiding his path on the trackless ocean. He would see man, himself, armed with the dread thunders of Jove, and the forked lightning descend harmless to earth, under the control of human will. He might ride the waves with the speed of a dolphin, or fly on the wings of the wind with the velocity of Boreas himself. He might descend to the depths of the ocean, or penetrate the bowels of the earth, to reveal the dread secrets of both. He might see the darkness of night converted to the brilliance of noonday, and find triumphantly solved the famous problem of the schools, the annihilation of distance and space, and with it almost the annihilation of time. He would feel as if some mighty enchanter had come to earth from another sphere-had drawn around him a magic circle-had thrown within it a blaze of light, and entranced his senses with the most gorgeous visions. Such are some of the fruits of the Baconian philosophy, which is to the world not so much a philosophic system, as a philosophic spirit; which numbers among its disciples a Newton and a Locke, a Boyle and a Davy, and a host of others, little less celebrated-a philosophy adapted not so much to the contemplative few, and to the cloisters of monks, as to the mass of mankind, and the busy walks of life-a philosophy destined not to have its day of popularity, and then, like its predecessors, to be consigned to oblivion, or the history of the past, but to be as extended in its sway as the empire of reason, and as permanent in its existence as the laws of nature. LITERARY NOTICES. POEM, by Emlen Franklin, and the VALEDICTORY ORATION, by Thomas Levingston Bayne, pronounced before the Senior Class in Yale College, July 7th, 1847. As under graduates, we would not presume to criticise the performances of Presentation day. We can only express the great pleasure we felt, in common with an unusually large audience, in listening both to the Orator and the Poet. The subject of the former was practical, and was treated in a practical way. The subject of the latter was really we cannot say what; and in this respect it was like every other production of a similar character. The speakers, in closing, were able to say "farewell" to all, since they had been "called to mourn for no brother at the grave." The members of few classes before them have been thus preserved. The Parting Ode, by Charles T. H. Palmer, as sung by the Beethoven Society, to the music composed for it by J. M. Hubbard, produced a deep impression on all who heard it. REMINISCENCES of Scenes and CHARACTERS IN COLLEGE: By a Graduate of Yale, of the Class of 1821. New Haven: Published by A. H. Maltby. 1847. The above is the title of an interesting volume of more than 200 pages, which has just made its appearance. It is written in a familiar, conversational style, possessing no very conspicuous merits or defects, being neither remarkably racy or remarkably dull. A better book might have been written, we think, on the same subject, though we do not know that a better one has been written. In fact, the Author seems to have aimed at nothing astonishing, since he informs us in the introductory chapter, that the production is partly the result of an accident. He sat down to pen the "reminiscences and reflections that had been awakened" in his mind by a participation in the scenes of Commencement week, 1846, and these, before he was aware of it, grew into a book. To each of the following topics, among others, a chapter is devoted :"Admission to College," "Freshman Year," "College Honors," "Societies," "Tutors," and (forgive the Zeugma)" Matrimony." The book is well worth the attentive perusal of College students in general, and will be found to contain many valuable hints both to them and to the "powers that be." THE PARTHENON, for July 15th-two numbers under one cover-was received a day or two since. Its outward appearance has been materially improved since the last number was issued, so that it looks almost as finely as our own "Maga." It is filled with well-written articles, that are highly creditable to the editors, contributors, and College, none of which we have space to notice particularly. With the present number, the editors for the past year end their labors, and retire laden with honor, but somewhat light, no doubt, in purse. "Ex uno disce omnes." Our hand is cheerfully extended to the new editorial corps, and we hope the friendly relations hitherto existing between the Parthenon and Yale Literary, will continue. "THE LITERARY RECORD AND JOURNAL," of the Linnæan Association of Pennsylvania College, for August, has been for some days on our table. To us, there seems to be more talent than taste displayed by its conductors. This is, however, perhaps necessary, as it is the organ of a scientific, rather than literary association, as its name would seem to imply. The author of the "Epistle to Students," on visiting the ladies, may thank his stars that our limits forbid extended criticism; for, while handling the pen in defence of the fair and the weak sex, he would find us a second Aristarchus. EDITORS' TABLE. WE had rather be commissioned to "collar" Cerberus, take a peep into the throat of Scylla, cut off the head of Medusa, grapple with the Chimera, explore the ramifications of the Labyrinth, solve the enigmas of the Theban Sphinx, and perform the twelve labors of Hercules, than be compelled to be-be what? funny. Even in these latter days, we never attempted a pun but once, (a puny attempt it was, too,) and then the faces of all present immediately lengthened to the dimensions of a horse's head, a flour barrel, or a piece of string. However, like the loafer, who was " druv” to do a deed his soul abhorred, viz: "to vork," we, in sheer desperation, had nerved ourselves to the perpetration of some things which would, no doubt, have led " Punch" to "hide his diminished head." In dreams by day, and visions by night, we saw our readers rolling on the floor, in perfect paroxysms of laughter, holding their aching sides with both hands, and desiring to be "carried out" lest-but hold! We have only to say that a press of matter necessarily excludes the gems we had in readiness, and we have only room for two more "judy spirits" which have come into our possession, and which, we trust, will please the mirth-loving. The first is from our facetious friend, E. Whether it be a romance, a history, or a drama, we are unable to say, not having studied it with sufficient attention. The characters are distinct and strongly marked; the plot, though somewhat complicated, will be fully understood in the end. CROSS READINGS. "The subscriber would respectfully inform the public, that he is now opening a large assortment of tin whistles, and other articles of jewelry; among which may also be found a valuable collection of silks, raisins, and dye-stuffs, which often prove very essential to the village blacksmith, who very unceremoniously left his anvil early this morning, from whence it proceeded across a vast extent of territory, with a rich toned Boehn flute, blowing down houses and ditches; dashed upon an old man seated in the shade of the bridge, was not perceived by the engineer till the locomotive will accompany the procession, drawn by a pair of canary-birds, and the most disastrous consequences ensued. Being under the necessity of inviting him home to spend a few hours of extreme toil and animalcules, we at last succeeded in gaining the highest point of honor, and gilliflowers was decided in behalf of the Royal Duke de Vergennes and warranted to cure the worst forms of apoplexy, tie dolor-and twenty-five cents will be paid to any man born in the south part of Scotland, where travelers regain their strength by eating hardware; may also be found at our store, which is third door from the chimney blown down yesterday morning will be opened probably in a day or two previous to the last Presidential election of momentous importance in every severe gale of wind, who having eaten too freely of unripe fruit was flung into a paroxysm of oxalic acid which lasted until the "Rough and Ready" society meets every Wednesda y evening except Mondays, each state convention transmitting to congress Doctor Paris' celebrated soothing syrup, where hundreds of certificates has commenced grandeur in all the splendid changes of sunshine with the best Spanish sole leather in the new concert and lecture room just imported direct from Kamschatka, and all along the eastern coast of Siberia, when the procession will be formed in front of the Hale Monument Association, as all accounts will be left with the constable for collection, together with various other articles too numerous to mention." The second is a record of many a poor fellow's experience and will speak for itself: SONG OF THE HENPECKED HUSBAND. A PARODY ON THE "SONG OF THE SHIRT." With a worn and sorrowful look, With dim and sunken eye, A Benedict sat in his old arm chair, "It's scold! scold! scold!!" And now she's got so savage and bold, "It's scold! scold! scold!! When the morning sun doth rise; She says I am stupid and silly, "It's scold! scold! scold!! And scold scold! scold!! Its fool and rascal and rogue, Rogue and rascal and fool, Till my soul is sick and my peace is gone, 'Neath the might of her iron rule! "It's jaw! jaw! jaw!! Morn and noon and night; "You naughty man! you silly fool! You can't do anything right! Come back! you sha'n't go out; Till I close my eyes and fold my hands, "It's jaw! jaw! jaw!! From darkness until light: "Tis what d'ye mean, you ugly wretch, You cross old rascal, say! Do you think you'll escape unhurt, When you walk across my floor so clean, With your boots all covered with dirt!' "I dare not talk of rest, For I never shall know any peace And oh! I long for the time When scolding and jawing are bygone things, "But it's jaw jaw! jaw!! From weary day to day; And jaw! jaw! jaw!! My cup of sorrow is full," With worn and sorrowful look, And now she's got so savage and bold, We have no room for the usual chit-chat with contributors. |