There is a pleasure, somewhat difficult of analysis, undoubtedly, in gazing for hours upon the stuffed skin of a beast, that, when in the flesh, has devoured a respectable citizen. When good Mr. Bowen--not the professor--kept his museum in the mansion, occupied, before the Revolution, by the Rev. Dr. Caner, and upon whose site the Savings Bank, and Historical Society have their apartments, at present, nothing in all his collection--not even the Salem Beauty--nor Marat and Charlotte Cordé--interested me so much, as a broken sword, with a label annexed, certifying, that, during the horrors of St. Domingo, seven and twenty of the white inhabitants had fallen, beneath that sword, in the hands of a gigantic negro! How long, one of the fancy will linger--"_patiens pulveris atque solis_" for the luxury of looking upon nothing more picturesque than the iron bars of a murderer's cell! It had, most naturally, spread abroad, that young Philips was concealed, on board the man of war. Hundreds may be supposed to have gathered, in groups, straining their eyes, to get a glimpse of the Sheerness; and the officer, who, in obedience to the warrant, proceeded, on that foggy morning, to arrest the offender, found more difficulty, in discovering the man of war, than was encountered, on the preceding evening, by those, who had sought for the body of Woodbridge, upon the Common. At length, the fog fled before the sun--the vista was opened between the Castle and Spectacle Island--but the Sheerness was no longer there--literally, the places that had known her, knew her no more. Some of our worthy fathers, more curious than the rest, betook themselves, I dare say, to the cupola of the _old_ townhouse--how few of us are aware, that the present is the third, that has occupied that spot. There, with their glasses, they swept the eastern horizon, to find the truant ship--and enjoyed the same measure of satisfaction, that Mr. Irving represents the lodger to have enjoyed, who was so solicitous to get a glimpse of the "Stout Gentleman." Over the waters she went, heavily laden, with as much misery, as could be pent up, in the bosom of a single individual. He was stricken with that malady, which knows no remedy from man--a mind diseased. In one brief hour, he had disfranchised himself for ever, and become a miserable exile.