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 master of, but to no purpose. The man of letters sat still, listened, gazed at the former, but did not dispute any point raised. The uneducated professor, feeling that he had been imposed upon, called Mr. D one side, and in a whisper, said:—

"Are you sure that this is an educated man? I fear that he is an impostor; for I tried, but could not call him out."

Mr. Vashon has long been engaged in imparting education to his down-trodden race, and in this path of duty has contributed much for the elevation of his people. We are somewhat surprised that none of the liberal colleges have done themselves the honor to confer upon Mr. Vashon the title of LL. D.

WILLIAM H. SIMPSON.

It is a compliment to a picture to say that it produces the impression of the actual scene. Taste has, frequently, for its object, works of art. Nature, many suppose, may be studied with propriety; but art, they reject as entirely superficial. But what is the fact? In the highest sense, art is the child of Nature; and is most admired when it preserves the likeness of its parent. In Venice, the paintings of Titian, and of the Venetian artists generally, exact from the traveller a yet higher tribute, for the hues and forms around him constantly remind him of their works.

Many of the citizens of Boston, New York, Washington, Philadelphia, and other cities of our country, are often called to mention the names of their absent