water, and also of the steam-engine itself, originated in his own mind, and was worked out by the fiery process of independent genius. In Europe the steam-engine was simply known as an amusing plaything, for the philosophic youth, Watts, had not yet developed its latent powers, or bridled them for the use of man. It was therefore by no means remarkable that Fitch had not heard of the invention. He says himself, "I did not know there was a steam-engine on earth when I proposed to gain a force by steam, and I leave my first drafts and descriptions behind, that you may judge whether I am sincere or not. A short time after drawing my first draft for a boat, I was amazingly chagrined to find at Parson Irwin's, in Buck's County, a drawing of a steamengine; but it had the effect to establish me in my other principles, as my doubts at that time lay in the engine only."

Men of capital are notorious for the distrust they exhibit toward inventors. They are too prone to look on them as mere visionaries—men who conceive wild ideas of what ought to be rather than what can be. It required time, patience, self-sacrifice, and heart-sickness to induce the possessors of wealth to listen to the schemes of a poor enthusiast like Fitch. In time, however, he succeeded in forming a small company for carrying out his plans. Dr. Thornton, who was a member of this company, has given in his "Account of the Origin of the Steam-boat" an interesting narrative of the manifold difficulties Fitch and his associates had to contend with, even after they had obtained a certain amount of protection from state privileges. "We worked incessantly at the boat to bring it to perfection, and under the disadvantages of never having seen a steam-engine on the principles contemplated, of not having a single engineer in our company or pay. We made engineers of common blacksmiths, and, after expending many thousand dollars, the boat did not exceed three miles an hour. Finding great unwillingness in many to proceed, I proposed to the company to give up to any one the one half of my shares who would, at his own expense, make a boat to go at the rate of eight miles an hour, in dead water, in eighteen months, or forfeit all the expenditures on failing; or I would engage with any others to accept these terms. Each relinquished one half of his shares, by making the forty shares eighty, and holding only as many of the new shares as he held of the old ones, and then subscribed as far as he thought proper to enter on the terms, by

which many relinquished one half. I was among the number, and in less than twelve months we were ready for the experiment. "The day was appointed, and the experiment made in the following manner: a mile was measured in Front (Water) Street, Philadelphia, and the bounds projected at right angles as exactly as could be to the wharf, where a flag was placed at each end, and also a stop-watch. The boat was ordered under way at dead water, or when the tide was found to be without movement; as the boat passed one flag, it struck, and at the same instant the watches were set off; as the boat reached the other flag, it was also struck, and the watches instantly stopped. Every precaution was taken before witnesses: the time was shown to all; the experiment declared to be fairly made, and the boat was found to go at the rate of eight miles an hour, or one mile in seven minutes and a half, on which the shares were signed over with great satisfaction by the rest of the company. It afterward went eighty miles in a day."

Notwithstanding the extremely satisfactory character of this experiment, the company became irritated at the continued outlays, and, in the end, obstinately refused to continue the project. We can paint to ourselves the anxiety and agony of Fitch as he observed the shareholders one by one withdrawing from the concern. The consciousness of truth was all that sustained him; he knew that he was not pursuing a chimera. In 1792, when the

boat and his hopes appeared to be docked forever, he wrote a letter to Mr. Rittenhouse containing this memorable prophecy: "This, sir, will be the mode of crossing the Atlantic in time, whether I bring it to perfection or not." His enthusiasm on the subject never diminished for one moment. Steam was the constant theme of his discourse whenever he could prevail upon any one to listen to him. Upon one occasion he called on a smith who had worked at his boat, and, after dwelling some time upon his favorite topic, concluded with these words: "Well, gentlemen, although I shall not live to see the time, you will, when steamboats will be preferred to all other means of conveyance, and especially for passengers; and they will be particularly useful in navigating the River Mississippi." He then retired, when a person present observed, in a tone of deep sympathy, "Poor fellow! what a pity he is crazy!"

In the winter of 1792-1793, Fitch crossed the Atlantic on a

visit to France, whither he went warmly commended, and with strong hopes of success. He was cordially received by the government, and assistance was offered to him. His usual ill luck interposed, however. Throes of the approaching revolution distracted the attention of the ministers, and poor Fitch was laid aside for subjects of political importance. Dejected, and with scarcely a hope left, he crossed the Channel to London, and, without accomplishing any thing in that metropolis, soon afterward returned to his native land, so poor that he had, it is said, to work his way home as a common sailor. He landed in Boston in 1794 in utter destitution, and, but for the hospitality of a brother-inlaw, might have perished from actual want. Three years later he made a journey to the West, to see after some grants of lands which had been made to him for services rendered to the State of Kentucky as a surveyor, a knowledge of which business Fitch imbibed while residing on his father's farm. These grants had been long neglected, and, as many settlements had been made on them, it was not without difficulty that he obtained possession of them. A number of suits had to be instituted, and the delays. and uncertainties of the law contributed to his other vexations. He became irascible and eccentric, dressed himself in a peculiar way, and excited the observation of the passers-by. His health began to decline; he was easily irritated, and, when touched on the subject of steam navigation, expressed himself with a warmth which exposed him to the ridicule of the idle and unfeeling. "When excited by his theme," says Mr. Whittlesey, in his biography, "his power over language was great, his remarks powerful, eloquent, and convincing; but he asserted, and perhaps truly, that the generation in which he lived was incapable of comprehending his invention. His expectations were fixed upon posterity; and with an abiding confidence that the steam-boat would bless and astonish his successors, he reserved for them that fame which he was not disposed to ask, but to demand. It was with such sentiments that he inclosed the manuscripts and drawings. presented to the Philadelphia Library, and left an injunction that they should not be opened until thirty years after his death."

He appears to have lost all hope from this time. Weary, and anxious for the rest which the grave could alone give, he abandoned himself to habits of obliviousness, fully conscious that they would soon lead him to "that bourne whence no traveler re

turns."

In June, 1798, he executed his last will and testament, and in July following it was admitted to probate. His death was in one or other of the two months-which is not known. The landlord of the inn where he resided procured a cherry coffin for the remains of his unfortunate boarder, and, attended by a few friends, carried it to the church-yard of Bardstown. No monument, no headstone, no rough tablet carved by hands of affection marked the spot, and in a little while it was forgotten.

Fitch was a man of uncommon stature, being six feet two inches in height, erect and full in carriage, his head slightly bald, but not gray, his manner dignified, distant, and imposing. His countenance was pleasing, with an eye remarkably black and piercing. "To strangers his manners had never been prepossessing, but to men of intelligence, who could comprehend his projects, he proved a most interesting companion. As a friend, he was faithful and devoted while the friendship lasted, carrying his efforts in behalf of others beyond the line of worldly prudence."

Misfortune pursued Fitch even after death. A number of papers, drawings, etc., to which he referred as evidence of the originality and priority of his plans, were destroyed by fire, and the first model of his steam-boat, made in 1785, has been lost, so that his claims as an original inventor are always liable to be disputed, especially as the fire in the Patent Office destroyed many other proofs of his originality. Truly a more unfortunate man has never lived.

WHEN we take up the newspaper of a morning, and find the first page filled with a closely-printed speech of some aspiring orator, who does not, perhaps, much interest us, we are very apt to lay the sheet aside and say there is nothing in it, indifferent to the fact that a hundred years hence it will be prized as a document of inestimable value. The appetite for long speeches belongs to the past or to the future, and can only be aroused in the present day by events of vital importance to the Commonwealth, and then only by men of the highest intellectual capacity. The newspaper editor has to a terrible extent superseded the orator, and makes a paragraph where of old our grandfathers made a speech. Every thing is brief and rapid, to suit the rail-road speed of the age. Oratory in its pure state-that is to say, the spontaneous utterance of noble thoughts and magnificent images as the symbolical representatives of coarser things, is almost unknown to us. If a man wants to make a long speech now, he toils at it in the closet, builds it on the most raking and logical model, rivets it with sharp-pointed facts, and takes good care not to launch it on the stormy waters of debate before it is thoroughly sound and sea