that Johns Hopkins laid the foundation of his great fortune. It was by systematic economy that his wealth grew so large during the last twenty-five years of his life. He was of the Adam Smith school of political economists, the eminently practical school of Benjamin Franklin. One of the most accomplished Baltimoreans of the passing generation, in his heart of hearts, despised the economy which Dr. Franklin preached in his works and practiced in his life, and in at brilliant oration before the Johns Hopkins University, on the seventh anniversary, while pointing out in eloquent language the importance of the university, did not once mention the name of its founder. This recalls the young society snob in the "Potiphar Papers," who went to Mrs. Potiphar's party, ate her viands and drank her wines, but declined to be introduced to the hostess.

Johns Hopkins loved money. He loved it because it was money, not because it gratified ambition, or brought to his feet the worshippers of the golden calf. He did not agree with the great captain of Spain, Gonsalvo de Cordova, that "there is no mode of enjoying one's property like giving it away." Perhaps Johns Hopkins did not gain his money as easily as the great captain. Certainly the American millionaire pursued moneymaking eagerly all his life; and what he made he did not give away in private or unknown charities. With a rare genius for making money, he had the rarer capacity for keeping it. He was not a man, like Charles Lamb, who complained of the decay of beggars; nor was he a man, like George Peabody, who gave away millions while in the maturity of a long and useful life. The monks of St. Francis told Rienzi that the purse of our Lord was given to Judas; if it had been meant as a good thing it would have been intrusted to St. Peter. Johns

Hopkins believed that money was a

good thing" to have, and he held on to his millions until he was approaching four score, when he conceived the great design of devoting his wealth to founding the university and hospital in the city of Baltimore, which will carry his name to distant ages. His benefaction just escaped becoming "a painted sepula painted sepulchre of alms," a testamentary bequest. With his wealth, Johns Hopkins might have been, while living, the first

citizen of Baltimore; he might have gathered around him all that was best and brightest in this fair land; he might have been a generous patron of literature and art, and have vied with the merchant princes of Italy in the encouragement of learning as he did in the possession of wealth, and have merited the eloquent praise which Gibbon bestowed upon the Medici. He might have contributed to the bringing about of a condition of affairs in Baltimore, such as Macaulay, in a few brilliant passages, has described as existing in Florence in the fifteenth century. "Knowledge and prosperity continued to advance together. Both attained their meridian in the age of Lorenzo the Magnificent. . . . With peculiar pleasure, every cultivated mind must repose on the fair and glorious Florence,

—on the halls which rung with the mirth of Pulci-the cell where twinkled the midnight lamp of Politian, the statues on which the young eyes of Michael Angelo glared with the frenzy of a kindred inspiration, the gardens in which Lorenzo meditated some sparkling song for the May-day dance of the Etrurian virgins.

Johns Hopkins' education had not prepared him for a life of cultured leisure; his tastes did not incline him to seek "wisdom that cometh by opportunity and of leisure;" nor did he care to follow the advice which says "he that hath little business shall become wise." Books, study, thought and meditation did not suit his active mind, or appeal to his practical ideas. From his youth, he had lived in a commercial atmosphere, and been engaged in the engrossing pursuit of gain. Remembering the time when he had not a dollar, he enjoyed seeing his wealth grow day by day, until his thousands became millions, and he lived to be the richest man in Baltimore. "It is not merely the pursuit of gain" some one remarks, "which corrupts - it is its exclusive pursuit-it is the entire surrender of life, and heart and hope to it that transforms wealth from a blessing into a gilded calamity to men and nations." Johns Hopkins lamented that he could not give twenty-five cents to a beggar, but with a stroke of his pen, he gave away seven millions in public benefactions.

Soon after retiring from active business, Johns Hopkins was elected President of the Merchants' Bank of Baltimore, the

largest financial institution in the city. He retained this position until his death, and contributed greatly to its success by his prudent counsel and practical knowledge of finance. Under his wise guidance, the Merchants' Bank weathered the great financial storm of 1857, and entered upon a career of increased prosperity, which was not diminished during the trying time of the Civil War, although at the commencement of that conflict Mr. Hopkins was so depressed at the prospect before the country that he said he would give his whole fortune to any man who would guarantee him a comfortable support for life. But it was not necessary for the financial magnate to resort to this; for during the great war he not only did not lose his fortune, but greatly increased it.

Besides being President of the Merchants' Bank, Mr. Hopkins was a director

in many other Baltimore institutions, and was a director in the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad Company. In the latter company, he was the largest individual stockholder, owning seventeen thousand shares. On several critical occasions, he relieved the company from pecuniary embarrassment, notably during the financial panic in the fall of 1873, when he loaned the company $900,000 to enable it to pay its interest in cash.

Johns Hopkins died on the 24th of December, 1873, in the 79th year of his age, and sixty years after he arrived in Baltimore without a dollar in his pocket. His life furnishes a remarkable example of what can be done by a self-made man, and it also shows what can be accomplished by a man with little or no education, who devotes his wealth to the benefit of the human race.

EUGENE L. DIDIER.

HE story of Montgomery's raid has for the American visitor to Quebec much painful interest. The main facts of the assault are familiar to most readers. The frowning fortress rock of the picturesque old city of Champlain tells the tale to everyone who approaches the key of Canada from the sea. In a single sentence Montgomery's fate is proclaimed to all the world. His monument is the great beetling cliff itself.

Death came to the brave soldier as he was leading a division of his troops, between midnight on the 31st of December, 1775, and the morning of January 1, 1776. A blinding snowstorm, one of the severest of the season, was beating in on the town from the northeast, a fact which Montgomery regarded as a good omen, and he made up his mind to act upon the advantage which he thought it would give him. On the land side the defenders of the Canadian garrison had placed lanterns and composition pots, which were kept burning every night, and emitted such a bright light that every object which might present itself was clearly visible. The intrepid commander, aware of this, resolved to make the attack by way of Près-de-Ville, which

was then very narrow. Indeed, as Quartermaster-General Thompson, one of Wolfe's old Highlanders, says, in his unpublished diary, "the front of the line of march could present only a few files of men." The British Sergeant, Hugh McQuarters, had charge of the barrierguard, and a gun loaded with grape and musket balls, under his direction, was always kept mounted, and commanded the slender avenue at the base of the rock. He had strict orders to be ever on the alert, and the slightest noise in the vicinity of his post was the signal agreed upon for the immediate discharge of ord

nance.

Montgomery's hope was to carry the place by storm. His force consisted of seven hundred men, all New York troops, and pretty good soldiers. He advanced on Lower Town from the west, along the road between the river and the foot of Cape Diamond, while Benedict Arnold, of infamous memory, had instructions to proceed from the General Hospital by way of St. Charles Street. A junction of the two bodies was to have been made at the lower end of Mountain Street, and together the united force was to push through Prescott Gate. The plan also provided for two feint at

tacks, which were to be made on the west side, to attract the notice of the garrison. It was a bold, though practicable scheme, but the besiegers relied too much on getting assistance and support from disaffected Canadians within the walls of the city. Such aid, however, was not forthcoming, as Montgomery soon saw, to his surprise and chagrin. Nevertheless, he marched on his way till he reached a narrow defile.

On one side a precipice loomed up riverwards, while on the other a scarped rock reared itself aloft. This was Prèsde-Ville, and fortified, as has been described, it barred completely all further approach to the Lower Town. A Canadian militia captain held the post with a force of thirty Canadians and eight British militiamen, and nine English sailors, retained to do the work of artillerymen. Montgomery crept stealthily forward, sure that his movements were unknown to the enemy, and sanguine of achieving success. But his calculations were all astray. The Canadian lookout, active and vigilant, discovered the advancing foe in full march from Wolfe's Cove, and heading directly towards the post. The Canadians were under arms and ready, having been apprised of the projected raid by straggling deserters belonging to the American main body, and they silently awaited the onslaught.

The garrison, meantime, made no movement, even when Montgomery halted his command within fifty yards of the barrier. All was as quiet and still as the grave, and an American officer was observed to leave the brigadier's side, and cautiously approach, as if to ascertain whether the besieged were on the alert or not. He listened for a few seconds, and then, apparently satisfied, hastened back to the little army impatiently awaiting orders to attack.

He

had not long to wait, for Montgomery and his faithful followers made a wild dash at the double-quick, when to their dismay a flash was seen, and the loud report of a gun vibrated on the air. Another followed, and the advance column of the attacking force was stricken and scattered. For full ten minutes, cannon belched forth and swept everything before it, and above the roar were heard the cries and moans of the wounded and the dying. The narrow defile was soon cleared, for the disheartened soldiers

were too astonished to continue the attack, and, having lost in the mêlée their leader, fled incontinently from the scene. Thirteen bodies were afterwards found in the snow, including that of Montgomery's orderly sergeant, who was picked up in a half-conscious state.

When questioned, the latter refused to reveal any tidings regarding his leader, and an hour later the brave fellow died in the guard-room. Shortly after this a party from the garrison was sent out to reconnoitre, when the bodies of General Montgomery and his two aides-de-camp, Cheeseman and McPherson, were found in the snow. The general was lying just above the level, hard frozen, his head and part of the left arm were in an erect position, the body was greatly distorted, and the knees were drawn up towards the head. By his side lay the unsheathed sword found by the drummer boy.

Thompson thus describes the weapon: "It has a head, at the top of the hilt, somewhat resembling a lion's or a bulldog's, with cropt ears, the edges indented, with a ring passing through the chin or under-jaw, from which is suspended a double silver chain communicating with the front tip of the guard by a second ring; at the lower end of the handle there is, on each side, the figure of a spread eagle. The whole of the metal part of the hilt is of silver. About half an inch of the back part of the guard was broken off while in my possession. The handle itself is of ivory, and undulated obliquely from top to bottom. The blade, which is twenty-two inches long, and fluted near the back, is single-edged, with a slight curve towards the point, about six inches of which, however, is sharp on both edges, and the word "Harvey" is imprinted on it, five and a half inches from the top in Roman capitals in a direction upwards. The whole length of the blade is two feet four inches (when found it had no scabbard or sheath, but I soon had the present one made and mounted in silver to correspond)."

Thompson then goes on to state that, finding the general's sword lighter and shorter than his own, he continued to wear it in lieu of the regulation weapon when on duty. Once, while at the Seminary, on some employment connected with his office, he noticed that the

American officers there as prisoners of war recognized the blade as the property of their lamented chief, and were so much affected that some of them wept audibly. "After this," says the old soldier, tenderly, "I took care, in mercy to the feelings of those ill-fated gentlemen, that whenever I had to go to the Seminary afterwards, to leave the sword behind me."

The body of the slain general was taken up and conveyed within the walls, where it was identified by the widow Prentice, the famous landlady of the old Free Masons' Hall, at which renowned hostelry Montgomery had lodged in years gone by.

Sir Guy Carleton, afterwards Lord Dorchester, then ordered the body to be decently and privately interred, and Thompson was officially deputed to attend to that duty. The General was duly conveyed to the little log house in St. Louis Street, for many years the resort of all true Americans, but now displaced by a handsome stone dwelling, which, however, still bears the inscription, in simple characters:

THE BODY OF

GENERAL MONTGOMERY,

U. S. ARMY,

WAS LAID OUT

IN THIS HOUSE,

31ST DEC., 1775.

It was owned by François Jaubert, a cooper, and Henry Dunn, a joiner, was ordered to prepare a coffin for the remains. They were carried on the shoulders of six stalwart men to their restingplace at set of sun, on the 4th of January, 1776, and Thompson had them buried alongside the body of his first wife. The spot selected was within and near the surrounding wall of the powder magazine, in the gorge of the St. Louis bastion. The Rev. Mr. De Montmollin, Military Chaplain, performed the last solemn rites at the grave. Thompson marked the place of burial by having a small cut stone inserted in the pavement within the barrack square, and it was fortunate that he did so, for by that means he was, in the year 1818, enabled to identify the spot to a nephew of Montgomery's, a Mr. Lewis, of New

York.

In this latter year, Mr. Lewis, having received permission from General Sherbrooke, the British commander at Que

bec, accompanied by Thompson, Chief Justice Jonathan Sewell, and some other friends, to the grave of his relative for the purpose of having the tomb opened. Thompson directed the workmen where to dig and the pavement was taken up exactly in the direction of the grave, as the old man who had officiated there so long before, advised. "The skeleton," he writes in his quaint diary, "was found complete, and when removed a musket ball fell from the skull; the coffin nearly decayed. No part of the black cloth of the outside, nor of the flannel of the inside was visible; a leather thong, with which the hair had been tied, was still in a state of preservation after a lapse of 43 years; there was a spring of water near the place which may have had the effect of hastening the decay of the contents of the grave.' The remains were carefully removed and taken to New York, where in 1818, they were given sepulture beneath a monument in front of St. Paul's Church, in Lower' Broadway. On the main pediment of the monument these words are inscribed: "The State of New York caused the remains of Major-General Richard Montgomery to be conveyed from Quebec and deposited beneath this monument the 8th day of July, 1818." The bones of the two aides-de-camp (Captains Cheeseman and McPherson) were also found. They had been interred just as they were, and without coffins, in a place a little in advance of the spot where the General was buried.

James Thompson, who relates the particulars of Montgomery's assault and death, died at Quebec, full of years and greatly respected. Up to within a short time of his death, he preserved all his faculties. Seventy years of his long life were devoted to the service of his king and country. He left a numerous family. Two of his sons became officers in the Commissariat Department, a third was a judge in Gaspé, Quebec, and a fourth died in Montreal, a senior lieutenant in the Royal Artillery.

General Montgomery's sword is now in the possession of a gentleman living on the banks of the Hudson, a connection by marriage of the Montgomery's, who owns, also, several articles and relics of curious interest and value, which once belonged to the chivalrous brigadier. The blade completes the collection.

GEORGE STEWART, LL. D.