He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; he had read all the original historians of England, France, and Germany, and was a great antiquarian. Criticism, metaphysics, morals, politics, voyages, and travels, were all studied and well digested by him. With such a fund of knowledge, his conversation was equally interesting, instructive, and entertaining. Banneker was so favorably appreciated by the first families in Virginia, that in 1803 he was invited by Mr. Jefferson, then President of the United States, to visit him at Monticello, where the statesman had gone for recreation. But he was too infirm to undertake the journey. He died the following year, aged seventy-two. Like the golden sun that has sunk beneath the western horizon, but still throws upon the world, which he sustained and enlightened in his career, the reflected beams of his departed genius, his name can only perish with his language. Banneker believed in the divinity of reason, and in the omnipotence of the human understanding, with Liberty for its handmaid. The intellect, impregnated by science, and multiplied by time, it appeared to him, must triumph necessarily over all the resistance of matter. He had faith in liberty, truth, and virtue. His remains still rest in the slave state where he lived and died, with no stone to mark the spot, or tell that it is the grave of Benjamin Banneker. He labored incessantly, lived irreproachably, and died in the literary harness, universally esteemed and regretted. WILLIAM P. QUINN. The man who lays aside home comforts, and willingly becomes a missionary to the poorest of the poor, deserves the highest praise that his fellow-men can bestow upon him. After laboring faithfully for the upbuilding of the church in New York, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, William P. Quinn, thirty-five years ago, went to the West, a most undesirable place for a colored man at that time. But he did not count the cost; it was enough for him to know that his services were needed, and he left the consequences with God. Never, probably, was a man more imbued with the spirit of the Great Teacher, than was Mr. Quinn in his missionary work. Old men and women are still living who delight to dwell on the self-denial, Christian zeal, manly graces, and industry that characterized this good man in the discharge of his duties in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. His advice was always fatherly; his example inculcated devoted piety. As a speaker, he was earnest and eloquent, possessing an inward enthusiasm that sent a magnetic current through his entire congregation. Having the fullest confidence of the people with whom he was called to labor, they regarded him as one sent of God, and they hung upon his words as if their future welfare depended upon the counsel they received. In 1844, Mr. Quinn was made a bishop, a position for which he had every qualification. Tanner, in his “Apology,” says:--