barous entertainments. What thronging life was here thenwhat voices, what greetings, what hurrying footsteps up the staircases of the eighty arches of entrance! And now, as we picked our way carefully through the decayed passages, or cautiously ascended some moldering flight of steps, or stood by the lonely walls-ourselves silent, and, for a wonder, the guide silent too-there was no sound here but of the bat, and none came from without, but the roll of a distant carriage or the con vent bell from the summit of the neighboring Esquiline.

3. It is scarcely possible to describe the effect of moonlight upon this ruin. Through a hundred rents in the broken walls, through a hundred lonely arches and blackened passage-ways, streamed in, pure, bright, soft, lambent, and yet distinct and clear, as if it came there at once to reveal, and cheer, and pity the mighty desolation. But if the Colise'um is a mournful and desolate spectacle as seen from within-without, and especially on the side which is in best preservation, it is glorious. We passed around it; and, as we looked upward, the moon shining through its arches, from the opposite side it appeared as if it were the coronet of the heavens, so vast was it—or like a glorious crown upon the brow of night.

4. I feel that I do not and can not describe this mighty ruin. I can only say that I came away paralyzed, and as passive as a child. A soldier stretched out his hand for a gratuity, as we passed the guard; and when my companion said I did wrong to give, I told him that I should have given my cloak, if the man had asked it. Would you break any spell that worldly feeling or selfish sorrow may have spread over your mind, go and see the Coliseum by moonlight.

91. THE DYING GLADIATOR.

ORVILLE DEWEY'

1. THE seal is set.-Now welcome, thou dread power!

THE

Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here
Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour
With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear;
Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear

'See Biographical Sketch, p. 176.

Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene

Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear,
That we become a part of what has been,
And grow unto the spot, all-seeing, but unseen.
2. And here the buzz of eager nations ran,

In murmur'd pity, or loud-roar'd applause,
As man was slaughter'd by his fellow-man.
And wherefore slaughter'd? wherefore, but because
Such were the bloody circus' geniäl laws,
And the imperial pleasure. Wherefore not?

What matters where we fall to fill the maws
Of worms-on battle-plains or listed spot?
Both are but theaters where the chief actors rot.
2. I see before me the glădiator lie:

He leans upon his hand; his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,

And his droop'd head sinks gradually low;
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,

Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now
The arena swims around him: he is gone,

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won 4. He heard it, but he heeded not; his eyes

Were with his heart, and that was far away:
He reck'd not of the life he lost, nor prize;
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian' mother-he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday.

All this rush'd with his blood. Shall he expire,

And unavenged? Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!

LORD BYRON."

- Dacian (da' she an), from Dacia, a country of ancient Germany forming the modern countries, Hungary, Wallachia, Moldavia, and Transylvania. Many of the gladiators came from Dacia, especially after its conquest by Trajan, in the year 103, after a war of fifteen years.Goths, a celebrated nation of Germans, warriors by profession, who, in the year 410, under their king, Alaric, plundered Rome.-* See Bio graphical Sketch, p. 292.

92. THE INQUIRY.

1. ELL me, ye wingèd winds, that round my pathway roar, •TELL Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more! Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest! The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,

And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd-"No."

2. Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favor'd spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs,—. Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies?

The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,

Stopp'd for a while, and sigh'd to answer-"No." 3. And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,

And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded-"No."

4. Tell me, my secret soul;-oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting-place from sorrow, sin, and death ?—
Is there no happy spot, where mortals may be bless'd,
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?

A

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd-"YES, IN
HEAVEN!"

CHARLES MACKAY.'

93. THE DEATH OF HAMILTON.2

SHORT time since, and he, who is the occasion of our sór

rōws, was the ornament of his country. He stood on an eminence, and glōry covered him. From that eminence he has fallen suddenly, forever fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended; and those who would hereafter find him,

'See Biographical Sketch, p. 91.- ALEXANDER HAMILTON, see Bio graphical Sketch, p. 246, note 5.

must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship; there, dim and sightless, is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever, are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often, and so lately hung with transport!

2. From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light, in which it is clearly seen, that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory-how humble appears the majesty of grandeur! The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst; and we again see, that all below the sun is vanity.

3. True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced, the sad and solemn procession has moved, the badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveler his virtues (just tributes of respect, and to the living useful); but to him, moldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they? How vain! how unavailing!

4. Approach, and behold, while I lift from his sepulcher its covering! Ye admirers of his greatness! ye emulous of his talents and his fame! approach and behold him now. How pale! how silent! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements; no fascinating throng weep, and melt, and tremble at his eloquence! Amazing change! a shroud! a cof fin! a narrow, subterraneous cabin!-this is all that now remains of Hamilton! And is this all that remains of Hamilton? During a life so transitory, what lasting monument, then, can our fondest hopes erect!

5. My brethren, we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immortal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten? Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already told you, from his death-bed; and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well known

eloquence, the solemn admonition: "Mortals hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors; cultivate the virtues I have recommended; choose the Saviour I have chosen; live disinterestedly; live for immortality; and would you rescue any thing from final dissolution, lay it up in God."

PRESIDENT Norr.

REV. ELIPHALET NOTT was born in Ashford, Connecticut, in 1773, and passed his youth as a teacher, thereby acquiring the means of properly educating hine self. He received the degree of Master of Arts from Brown University in 1795. He soon after established himself as clergyman and principal of an academy at Cherry Valley, in the State of New York. From 1798 to his election as president of Union College, in 1803, he was pastor of the Presbyterian Church, at Albany, where he delivered a discourse "On the Death of Hamilton," from which the above extract is taken. In 1854, the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Nott's presidency was celebrated at Union, at the Commencement in July. A large number of graduates assembled, and addresses were delivered by President Wayland of Brown University, and Judge Campbell of New York. Dr. Nott also spoke with his old eloquence. His numerous papers in periodicals have been chiefly anony. mous. His" Addresses to Young Men," "Temperance Addresses," and a collection of "Sermons," are his only published volumes.

94. PASS ON, RELENTLESS WORLD.

1. WIFTER and swifter, day by day,

SWIFTE

Down Time's unquiet' current hurl'd,'
Thou passest on thy restless way,

Tumultuous and unstable world!'
Thou passest on!
Time hath not seen
Delay upon thy hurried path;1
And prayers and tears alike have been.
In vain to stay thy course of wrath !"

2. Thou passest on, and with thee go

The loves of youth," the cares of age;
And smiles and tears, and joy and woe,
Are on thy history's troubled page!
There, every day, like yesterday,

Writes hopes that end in mockery;
But who shall tear the veil away

Before the abyss of things to be?

3

'Hurled (herld).- 2 Påss' est.- World (wêrld).— Påth.- Prayers (prarz). Wrath.-7 Youth.-* Cares (kårz).—" There (thår).-—1o Teår