We find a curious anecdote of Chevalier Bunsen in connection with the recently-published Life of Niebuhr, issued in London, under the superintendence of the Chevalier: The portly and hearty representative of Prussia at the Court of St. James, Niebuhr, the Roman historian—every body has heard and knows something of him. But every body does not know the special claim that his memory has on Bunsen; for the latter, though he has risen to be the Minister of Public Instruction and Foreign Representative of a great kingdom, was once (how strangely it sounds in English ears)—not even a calico-printer or a cotton-spinner—but a poor student, Niebuhr’s humble amanuensis! A prodigy of learning, as unknown then as Mr. Thomas Watts of the British Museum Library, in comparison with his deserts, is unknown now. Bunsen, the story runs, was in attendance on his employer, at that time Prussian Minister at Rome, when the King of Prussia, then Crown Prince, paid Niebuhr a visit. The conversation turned upon literary matters, and the Crown Prince made a statement which the humble amanuensis, bursting into the talk, took upon him flatly to contradict. Most Crown Princes (and some British commoners) would have flown into a passion. Not so our Frederick William the Fourth of Prussia. He inquired into the character and history of the plain-spoken youth; found that he knew every language and literature under heaven, from Chinese and Coptic to Welsh and Icelandic; kept his eye on him, and gradually promoted him to be what he is. Niebuhr’s letters have been published, and some years ago a biography of him, founded on them, was attempted in Tait’s Magazine, and broke down; but Bunsen’s will be the life. Niebuhr was foolish enough to die of the Three Days of July, 1830, being a staunch conservative. As the French would say: Tant pis pour lui!
The Winter Session of the New College, Edinburgh, has been opened, with an introductory address, by the Rev. Dr. Cunningham, successor of Dr. Chalmers, as Principal of the College. The institution is chiefly intended as a Theological School, connected with the Free Church of Scotland, but has other Chairs attached, one of which, on Natural History, is held by Dr. Fleming, the zoologist. On November 11th the Philosophical Institution of the same city was opened for the session by Sir David Brewster, who gave an able address. Among the lecturers announced for the season are some distinguished names, and the institution seems to be conducted in a higher tone than is usual in similar places of popular instruction and amusement. Hugh Miller, the geologist, and Isaac Taylor, author of the “Natural History of Enthusiasm,” are to deliver courses of lectures. In the University of Edinburgh, Principal Lee is reading a course of Moral Philosophy Lectures, in room of Professor Wilson, whose illness precludes him from any public duty.
Madame Pfeiffer’s account of her voyage round the world, says a London journal, a translation of which has just been published by Messrs Longman, is exceedingly interesting, and as full of adventure as the production of the awful Cumming Gordon, of rhinoceros-riding notoriety. When in Brazil, she undertook a long and hazardous journey into the interior, to visit the Puri Indians. She states that many of these singular people have been baptized, and, indeed, “they are at all times willing, for the consideration of a little brandy, to go through the ceremony again, and only regret that they have not more frequent opportunities, especially as it does not last long.” Their language is extremely poor, and they have no method of expressing number but by repeating one, two—one, two, as many times as may be required. For yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by “pointing backward for yesterday, forward for to-morrow, and over the head for the passing day.” We have noticed Harper’s edition of this work in another place.
The late work of Sir John Richardson on The Arctic Searching Expedition, now in press by Harper and Brothers, is spoken of with unqualified praise by the London press. We quote a notice from The Literary Gazette: “This work affords a glorious instance of genuine, hearty philanthropy. With a self-devotion seldom equaled, and certainly never surpassed, the author of these volumes, at a time of life when most men think seriously of exchanging the cares and anxieties of an arduous profession, or of an official occupation, for repose, adventured forth to the terrible regions of Arctic America, to seek, and, if possible, to rescue a cherished friend. And this was done with no other incentive than friendship, hallowed by former companionship in the same regions, and the social intercourse of many years. With becoming modesty, Sir John Richardson is entirely silent respecting his official and domestic position at the time of his departure on his humane mission; but it is due to him to say, that he left a valuable government appointment, and sacrificed pecuniary advantages, when, taking leave of an affectionate wife and family, he left England in search of his old traveling companion; and though he has been happily restored to his country in unimpaired health and vigor, it must not be forgotten that the journey which he proposed taking, was not only arduous but hazardous, and might have been accompanied by a repetition of the frightful sufferings which befell him during his adventurous and memorable expedition with Franklin in the same country he was about to visit.”
A new play by Mr. Jerrold, and one by Mr.