his mother was a daughter of Judge Lloyd, of Monmouth county, New Jersey. Both his parents were natives of New Jersey. The future traveller was brought up and educated in the city of New-York. He received his classical education at the schools of Mr. Boyle and Mr. Joseph Nelson, the blind teacher, from the latter of which he entered Columbia College at the early age of 13. He entered low in his class, but left at its head. He remained four years in college, where he was a general favorite with his fellows. On graduating, he entered the office of Daniel Lord, as a student-at-law. He remained in his office about a year, and then entered the Law School, at Litchfield, Conn., at that time under the charge of the late Judge Gould. Here he remained a year, and on his return to the city of New-York entered the office of George W. Strong as a student-at-law, where he remained until admitted to the practice of the law. On his return from Litchfield his early taste for travelling developed itself. In company with a cousin, of about the same age with iimself, he projected a visit to a sister of his mother's residing in Arkansas, at that t me almost a terra incognita. After making their visit, instead of returning home, as at first contemplated, it was determined to go to New-Orleans. They accordingly descended the Mississippi in flat-boats, at that time the only mode of conveyance on its waters. After an absence of some months, he returned home by sea, from New-Orleans, and resumed his study of law. At the end of his novitiate he entered upon the practice of the law, at which he continued for about eight years; but he never felt or exhibited much ardor or zeal in the pursuit of this profession. During that period he took a somewhat active interest in politics, united himself to the Democratic party, and became a sort of pet speaker at Tammany Hall. He always advocated the doctrine of free trade, and was strongly opposed to all monopolies. His manner was earnest, and every one who heard him could see that he felt what he spoke. Owing, perhaps, to his public speaking, he contracted a disease of the throat, which bid fair soon to break up his constitution. His physician happening to hint at a voyage, he seized upon it immediately, and hastened to carry it into effect. He embarked in the autumn of 1834, in the packet 'Charlemagne,' for Havre, and landing on the coast of England, went up to London, and from thence crossed to France. Thence he visited Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Russia, returning by the way of Poland and Germany to France. On his return to France from the North of EuVOL I.-5.

rope, and when his family expected to hear of his embarkation for home, he suddenly took passage on board a steamer at Marseilles for Egypt, by the way of Malta. He landed at Alexandria, visited Cairo, ascended the Nile as far as Thebes. He returned home in the latter part of 1836. Prior to his return, some of his letters written from Scio, in Greece, and other places, were published, by the request of his friends, in a magazine, edited by Mr. Charles F. Hoffman, and were generally copied in the papers of the day. In 1837 he published his first work, entitled, "Incidents of Travel in Egypt, Arabia Petræa and the Holy Land." This was followed, in 1838, by "Incidents of Travel in Greece, Turkey, Russia, and Poland." Of the former 21,000 copies have been printed, and of the latter 12,000. These works were republished in London, and received favorable notice from the reviewers.

In 1839, he was recommended to Governor Seward for the appointment of Agent of this State to visit Holland, for the purpose of collecting records of our colonial history; but, being opposed by the Whigs in the legislature, he did not receive the nomination, which was conferred on Mr. Brodhead. About that time Mr. Van Buren, being then President, gave him the appointment of Special Ambassador to Central America, for the purpose of negotiating a treaty with that country. On his return to the United States he prepared a third work, entitled, "Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan;" it appeared in June, 1841. Of this 15,000 copies have been printed. While on this mission his attention was first turned to a passage across the Isthmus of Darien.

In 1842 he again visited Yucatan, and published, in 1843, the result of his labors in another work, entitled, “Incidents of Travel in Yucatan." Of this latter work 9,750 copies have been printed.

In 1846 he was chosen a delegate from the city of New-York, to the State Convention of New-York to revise the Constitution. He was nominated by the Democrats, but on account of his popularity was also placed on the Whig ticket. He introduced, and advocated the provision for a Conciliation Court, which was adopted by that body. In 1847, the subject of ocean steam navigation greatly attracted the public attention. England had the monopoly of this mode of conveyance. It was said, America could not compete with her in navigating the Ocean with steam. She had neither the capital, nor could she build vessels and machinery of sufficient strength and power—Mr.

Stephens became deeply interested in the project, and a charter was obtained from the State of New-York, incorporating The Ocean Steam Navigation Company in the city of New-York. Of this Company Mr. S. was a director, and the result of the enterprise, were the steam-ships Washington and Hermann. The former made the first trip, and proceeded from the port of New-York to Southampton, England, and thence to Bremer-Haven, the port of the city of Bremen, Germany. Mr. S. embarked in the Washington, on this her first trip, and had the happiness of seeing an experiment in which he felt so deep an interest successfully carried out. He was present at the felicitations offered at the different ports, and at Bremen the excitement on her arrival was intense. The thunder of cannon, and tumultuous rejoicing of every kind greeted her arrival, amid much speechifying, in which Mr. S. took a prominent part. This decided the question of America's competition with England, in Ocean Steam Navigation. He returned to England to meet the Washington by way of Hamburg, Berlin, &c., visited Humboldt, at Potsdam, and published in the Literary World an account of his visit to this distinguished traveller and philosopher, entitled "An Hour with Humboldt."

He took a strong and active interest in the Hudson River Railroad, and warmly supported its claims in a speech at the Merchants' Exchange, in the city of New-York.

In 1849, he became one of the associates of the Panama Railroad Company, and one of its most zealous advocates. About 1st July, 1849, the Company was organized, and Mr. S. was chosen its Vice-President. In the ensuing autumn he visited the Isthmus, and Panama, for the purpose of inspecting the route; from Panama he went to Bogota, the capital of New Granada, and concluded an arrangement with that Government most favorable to the interests of the road. On the journey on mule-back to Bogota he met with a very severe accident, by the falling of his mule. His spine was very much wrenched, and it was with the utmost pain and difficulty that he reached Bogota. On his arrival there he was obliged to take to his bed, lie in one position, and thus carry on amid the most violent pain and anguish of body, all his communications with the Congress of the New Granadian Government. This accident may have helped to impair his health, or at least to make him more susceptible of disease. Certain it is, he never recovered entirely from its effects.* He re

turned home by the way of Carthagena, whence he took a steamer for the United States. On his way back he stopped at the Island of Jamaica, and made a flying circuit of that beautiful island. So much was he struck with its natural beauties, and the moral and social aspects growing out of its present anomalous condition, viz., the abolition of slavery, that it is believed he made some very considerable notes of incidents with a view to future publication. On his return to New-York, and upon the resignation of Mr. Thomas W. Ludlow, then President, Mr. S. was appointed in his place, and assumed the duties of President of the Panama Railroad Company. To the duties of this office all his energies, mental and physical, were bent. The two following winters of 1850-1 and 1851-2, he visited the Isthmus and personally superintended the work and progress of the road. To this great work he devoted himself; his zeal was as conspicuous as his hopes in its success were firm and unwavering. On his return in the Spring of 1852, he seemed in as good if not better health than usual, and so continued for six or eight weeks, when he was attacked by a disease of the liver, which developed itself in an abscess, and after an illness of about four months, in almost continued pain and suffering, terminated his life.

As a literary man, the contributions of Mr. Stephens were in the department of travels alone; his observations however had extended over a field so wide in both hemispheres, that his countrymen were wont to call him "the American traveller." And so unstudied, familiar and agreeable was his mode of telling what he had seen, that those who had ever listened to his verbal relation of his "Incidents of Travel," had the man perfectly before them as they read his lively pages. Perhaps there never lived a writer less ambitious of producing an impression by the mere graces of "style;" or one more wilfully and blissfully ignorant of the petty artificial devices, the little tricks of literary composition, by which small writers sometimes contrive to make a shallow rivulet of thought meander over a large field of letters. In truth, he eschewed trickery of all kinds, and was as incapable of employing it when he wrote. as he was of carrying it into the business transactions of life. And it is precisely this naturalness of manner, added to the truthfulness of his character, which have made his writings so universally popular. With a quick and keen observation, an appreciative and good-natured sense of the

ludicrous, and a remarkable faculty of retaining vividly to the last the freshness of first impressions, he sat down and told his story with the pen very much as he would have told it to his intimates with the tongue, had he encountered them just after emerging from one of his many adventures.

It happened to the writer of these lines to meet him in London on his return homeward from his eastern travels, when he had no expectation of becoming an author (though for the sake of his friends he had kept memoranda of his observations); and many an hour was agreeably occupied in listening to his stories, particularly of his journey through Idumea, related almost precisely as they were afterwards given to the world. Indeed the publication of his first volumes of travels afforded a remarkable proof of the intrinsic worth of the book, as well as a most unexpected and gratifying instance of literary success: that which was prepared, chiefly for the sake of personal friends, passed rapidly through several editions; and a work unheralded by previous laudatory announcement, and not bearing on its title-page a name established in the world of letters, obtained, by virtue of its contents alone, a wide-spread celebrity, and conferred on its author the character of a popular American writer.

It was not learned, but it was truthful and intelligible to the mass of readers, and this insured its success. We are inclined to believe that the unexpected reception of this first attempt, made our author a traveller on our own continent. In repeated conversations with the present writer, the attention of Mr. Stephens was called to the ruins of Guatemala and Yucatan, as represented in the works of Del Rio and Waldeck. His was just the enthusiasm of character to be captivated by the thought of explorations where so little was known; and his diplomatic appointment to Guatemala by President Van Buren afforded him precisely the field he wanted, with the advantages his work might derive from official station.

He

used laughingly to say that he travelled over all Guatemala looking for the government to which he was accredited, and which he never could find; while his journeyings enabled him to discover something which would probably prove more interesting to his countrymen than any diplomatic correspondence. And it was more interesting, not merely to his countrymen, but to the learned of Europe also. His travels in Central America and Yucatan are unquestionably the richest contribution ever made by any one man to the subject of American Antiquities.

Those who knew him are aware that he possessed in an eminent degree, many, if not all the requisites necessary for precisely such a work as he had undertaken. His single deficiency was, that he had not had time to acquire the learning of a well read antiquary. But he had all things else that were needed. Sustained by his enthusiasm, he could and would endure an incredible amount of bodily fatigue; his perseverance was indomitable; indeed energy of character was probably the strongest element of his nature. He possessed also, with a large knowledge of men, extraordinary tact in his intercourse with them, and a courage, moral and physical, which nothing could daunt. Το this we may add, an ever-ready power of accommodating himself to circumstances. and making the best of them, with a good humor that laughed at inconveniences when they were remediless, and a generous kindliness of heart, prompt to respond to human suffering. He had large sympathies with his kind. There was about him, too, a truthfulness which made its impression even on the shortest acquaintance. Every one, therefore, who knew him was satisfied that he would use no traveller's privilege; that what he related as facts within his own knowledge might be implicitly relied on, even to the measurement of an inch in the length of a wall. These were the qualities which he carried into the work of an explorer among our buried cities; and the results of the employment of these qualities, told in his own unpretending manner, often relieved by an outbreak of his quick sense of the ludicrous, have made, and will long continue to make, his books of American travels a source at once of information and amusement, that will last until a fresher interest is created by fresh explorations and newer discoveries; but let who will succeed him in the field, not one will be more truthful than John L. Stephens.

His life was spent in action; and it is a sad thought that the very enthusiasm and energy which formed in him such marked characteristics, probably contributed, in no small degree, to send him to the grave at the comparatively early age of forty-seven. His travels in Central America subjected him to exposure and disease, of which, at the time, he thought less than they deserved. They doubtless gave to his constitution a blow which but little fitted it to encounter fresh exposure on the Isthmus of Panama, whither he was led by the same unconquerable energy and perseverance which had marked his previous career. The great work of connecting the two oceans proceeded too

slowly for his enthusiastic nature. He saw its importance, and resolved that it should be finished speedily. As President of the Company he repaired in person to the spot, and enduring toil, and exposure, and sickness, returned

home but to die; but he has left his mark upon the age in which he lived. The railroad is nearly completed, and the first iron track between the Atlantic and Pacific is henceforth indelibly connected with the name of John L. Stephens.

A

PORTRAIT of my grandmother hangs upon my parlor wall. It was taken at least sixty-five years since, and represents the venerable lady, whom I remember in my childhood, in spectacles and comely cap, as a young and blooming girl. She is sitting upon an old-fashioned sofa, by the side of a prim aunt of hers, and with her back to the open window. Her costume is quaint, but handsome. It consists of a cream-colored dress made high in the throat, ruffled around the neck, and over the bosom and the shoulders. The waist is just under her shoulders, and the sleeves are tight, tighter than any of our coat sleeves, and also ruffled at the wrist. Around the plump and rosy neck, which I remember as shrivelled and sallow, and hidden under a decent lace handkerchief, hangs, in the picture, a necklace of large ebony beads. There are two curls upon the forehead, and the rest of the hair flows away in ringlets down her neck. The hands hold an open book: the eyes look up from it with tranquil sweetness, and through the open window behind you see a quiet landscape,-a hill, a tree, the glimpse of a river, and a few peaceful summer clouds. Often in my younger days, when my grandmother sat by the fire after dinner lost in thought,-perhaps remembering the time when the picture was a portrait-I have curiously compared her wasted face with the blooming beauty of the girl, and tried to detect the likeness. It was strange how the resemblance would sometimes appear: how, as I gazed and gazed upon her old face, age disappeared before my eager glance, as snow melts in the sunshine, revealing the flowers of a forgotten spring.

It was saddest of all to see my grandmother herself contemplating the portrait. The story is told of old Wycherly, the wit and dramatist, that when his brief day

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of popular homage was over, he called, in his decay, for the full-wigged portrait taken when he was the fashion, and wrote under it quantum mutatus ab illo !" Alas! how changed from that! The feeling in the superannuated man about town seems hardly genuine, and like every thing those men did, has a slight theatrical air. But it was touching to see my grandmother steal quietly up to her portrait, on still summer mornings when every one had left the house, and I, the only child, played, disregarded, and look at it wistfully and long. She held her hand over her eyes to shade them from the light that streamed in at the window, and I have seen her stand at least a quarter of an hour gazing steadfastly at the picture. She said nothing, she made no motion, she shed no tear, but when she turned away there was always a pensive sweetness in her face that made it not less lovely than the face of her youth. I have learned since what her thoughts must have been,-how that long, wistful glance annihilated time and space, how forms and faces unknown to any other, rose in sudden resurrection around her, how she loved, suffered, struggled and conquered again; how many a jest that I shall never hear, how many a game that I shall never play, how many a song that I shall never sing, were all renewed and remembered as my grandmother contemplated her picture.

My own thoughts were of a very different character. I, too, used to study that portrait, but my aim was to discover why it made my old friend look unlike any young person I had ever seen. Had it been the likeness of Helen or of Aspasia, I said to myself, when I began to study Greek, it would not be surprising that it did not resemble my cousin Maude, but why Maude's grandmother less than seventy years ago should look like no girl I

ever saw, was a great mystery to me. It was none the less so when Smith took me to his father's house to see the "family portraits." Among these there were some of the same strange young women, and I racked my fancy again, to discover why they were so different from our young women. Smith suddenly explained the whole mystery.

"What an odd, old-fashioned style of dress," said Smith.

It was a very obvious remark, and so was the fact of gravitation very obvious before the apple hit Newton on the nose. I looked at my grandmother's picture with new eyes, and saw why a human being, of the female species, sixty years ago was so entirely different from the same creature now. Fashion was the Magician. Fashion was the great commander who said "wear ruffles," and they were worn; "elevate the waist," and it was elevated; " powder the hair," and it was powdered. For a few days after Smith's remark, it really seemed as if fashion were the secret of history. Had Marshal Turenne marched to victory in the uniform of the "Light-Guard," or that of "Duryee's Regiment," I trembled, to think how much prestige he would necessarily lose. The horse-hair wig and the polished armor began to seem too large a part of Marshal Turenne; and as I pondered on the portraits of the beautiful ladies of the Court, they seemed to me only paint, patch, and scratch. Then those Elizabethan towers upon the head! How gladly my fancy fled from them and rested contentedly in the close, comely, Grisette-ish little cap of Mary, Queen of Scots.

Who makes the fashion then, since so much depends upon it? That is a question which I cannot get answered. My philosophical friends have their theories about it. Flamingo, in his lofty way, says that every fashion has a profound significance, and that if you could really see the reasons of things as you walk down Broadway, you would enjoy in a sedate and instructive manner the glittering varieties of costume,-in fact, he says, you would distil a drop of the honey of wisdom from every flower of folly that blooms in that gay parterre.

Exactly," I say to Flamingo, "but you miss the point. Here comes my cousin Maude in her new suit of furs. She follows the fashion which, this winter, prescribes small muffs. You see she can scarcely squeeze those darling hands into that bit of a muff, which is no larger than a good-sized cuff. Now what, pray, is the 'profound significance' of that absurdity of my cousin Maude's ?"

"Well," says Flamingo, "I suppose the significance of carrying a muff in winter, is to keep the hands warm. The size is a matter of convenience."

"Not at all; it is a matter of whim, or of fashion, which only concerns the form, and has nothing to do with the essence. Last winter Maude carried a muff as large as a bearskin, and next winter she will wear thread-gloves, if it is the fashion."

And it is the truth. Flamingo can never get any nearer to his profound reason in fashion than this, that people imiitate the dress of one whom they acknowledge as a leader, just as boys imitate the handwriting, and collegians the rhetorical style of certain persons whom they admire. Fashion is a kind of hero-worship, he says. "Poetical young men turn down their collars and drink gin and water because Childe Harold did it." Fashion is imitation founded in genuine reverence. Your tailor pads and puffs and squeezes, says philosophical Flamingo. Why does he do it? To make your figure somewhat resemble what is called the ideal figure of the Apollo, or some other type of fine manly form. The individual tailor knows nothing of this principle, but nevertheless, that is the reason of the pigeonbreasted waistcoats and the stuffed coats which he makes. Fine tailoring co-operates with fine arts, says Flamingo. It

tries to make a man as handsome as a statue.

But this, I confess, seems to me seeing much more in a picture than the painter meant. I will not deny that it is often truly so, and that there is beauty in a work, according as it is seen, and even more and a different beauty than was intended. Yet I still recur to the inquiry, Who makes the fashion? because I cannot believe that there is any very profound reason for my trowsers being cut straight this winter, when they lapped a little over the foot a year ago. Nor do I fancy there is any especial mystery in the fact that the skirts of my street-coat must now hang to the calves of my legs, when last year they scarcely fell below my waist. What would induce my cousin Maude to receive visitors this morning in the costume of my grandmother's portrait? Yet it is much more simple and picturesque than any thing Maude will wear. The only reason she can give is, that it is "out of fashion." Who put it out? And who, from time to time, continues to put "out of fashion" what is graceful and picturesque, and to put "in fashion" very graceless and clumsy contrivances? The other day my aunt Jane entertained the little folk who came to take tea with Clara by coming down in her bridal hat.