whether we have such lessons in our schools; but I know well enough that they are needed.
Among the scientific institutions of Cincinnati, I perceive that the observatory owes its existence to the genius and zeal of a private man, Professor O. M. Mitchell. The history of the origin of this beautiful observatory, which is one of the highest class, deserves to be known, in order to show in its true light what the determination and enthusiasm of an individual may achieve in the New World, and in what way he can interest the mass of the people for a science which he desires to make popular. It is the triumph of genius, and, at the same time, of patience and of persevering determination. It is a great commendation of the man, and of the masses also. But the history of all this would be too long.
The arts have also begun to reveal themselves in Cincinnati; but, as yet, it is only a beginning.—The city itself is hardly sixty years old. There is an Art-union here, the exhibition of which I visited twice. There were some good pictures. None, however, took so much hold on my memory as a humorous little painting representing three huge swine very naturally. They were sitting upon their hams, below a rock, on which was inscribed “lard-oil;” and they were gazing very attentively at one of their brethren, who was attacking a dead whale, which had been cast upon the shore hard by. Beyond lay the great ocean. This little humorously-conceived and well-painted piece hung between two pictures, the subjects of which were the “Loves of the Angels;”—etherial figures floating forth over clear lakes, and meeting each other on verdant flowery shores. A greater contrast than between those poetical pictures and the prose of the former could scarcely have been imagined. Pity only that the execution of these did not equal that of the other. Our Södermark would have given the prize to the latter. So should I; but yet I would not have had the picture in
