to this day is brought "in little china dishes, and is as thick while the scenery around was beautifully picturesque, as one can drink it." bounded as it was at the north by the lofty ridge of CorisMaking our shaggy capotes answer for our beds, and tak-sus, at the south by the conical summit of Mount Prion, ing what we could find for our pillows, we early retired to and at the east and west, for miles, by the celebrated Epherest. The night we passed was a sleepless one, rendered sian plains. Leaving the blue waters of the rapidly runso by our lassitude, by the insects with which the place ning Cayster, far to our right, we were compelled to make was filled, and from the shrill sound of a rustic pipe con- our own pathway while riding single file through a field of tinually played at all hours by a mountaineer, who neither luxuriant clover. Will it be believed, that there is not at obeying our wishes, nor fearing our threats, would not cease this day a vestige of a road by which a stranger can visit from his amusement. At a quarter past two in the morning the ruins of the temple of Diana, or the site of the queen we were suddenly started by an incessant knocking at our of Ionia's cities, once so famed for its temple, theatre, and door, and by the sound of many voices. One of the Albanians who was stretched at full length, and did not attempt to rise, called out in a loud voice-"who have come at this hour to disturb us; whom do you seek, and what do you want?" The answer he received was: "We are weary, and car horses hungry; we seek shelter for ourselves, and food for them." As soon as the door was opened three young Turks, splendidly dressed, and completely armed, with two Arab boys in attendance, bearing their pipes, entered, and greeted the Albanians with those words, only uttered to the faithful

goddess? Passing over a gentle ascent we found many ruins. Half embedded as they were in earth, our efforts to discover their shape were fruitless-the most were of white marble, taken from the bowels of Mount Prion, beautifully sculptured, and of great size. Dismounting, that we might descend to the valley more safely, we came upon a magnificent column of the Ionic order, which lay at its length, a perfect wreck of other days-on leaving it, we flattered ourselves, that we had seen one of the six score and eight pillars, which supported the Temple of Diana; that it might possibly have been a gift of Croesus, or sent as a memento from a king. In the erection of the Ephesian temple, a period was consumed of two hundred and twenty years; the edifice was exalted on a basement, with ten steps, which extended its whole length of four hundred and twenty-five feet. Arundell says, "that the gates had been preserved four years in glue, and were made of cypress wood, which had been treasured up for four generations, highly polished. They were found by Mutianus, as fresh and as beautiful four hundred years after, as when new. The ceiling was of cedar; and the steps for ascending the roof (of the cell) of a single stem of a vine, which

his son Cephisidorus, adorned the shrine; Scopas contributed a statue of Hecate; Zimarete, the daughter of Mycon, the first female artist upon record, finished a picture of the goddess, the most ancient in Ephesus, and Parrhasius and Apelles, both Ephesians, employed their skill to embellish the pannels of the walls--a picture by the latter, representing Alexander grasping a thunder-bolt, was in the collection, purchased at an expense of twenty talents of gold, a sum so exorbitant, as scarcely to be reconciled to an equivalent value of our money.

"Salam aleikoum,-aleikoum salam." Peace be with you,-be with you peace. Crowded as our apartment was before, with this addition to our company it was rendered insupportable. Finding it impossible to sleep, F— and myself, with Demetrius our servant, left the hut, and by the unclouded light of the moon, rambled through a small pathway, in a westerly direction, until we came under the ruined arches of the ancient aqueduct, in the shade of which, on the naked earth, we threw ourselves down, and slept for several hours. At an early hour, even before the jackal had ceased his mourn-witnessed the durable nature of that wood. Praxitiles, and ful cry, or the night-owl his shrill note, we were on our feet, and ascending the castle hill. The ruins we met with did not repay us for the trouble we had in seeking them. On our return, our companions were satisfied with the description we gave, and escaped a walk over the long and rugged path we had wasted an hour in passing; having only reason to regret our time and labor lost. The only remains of Aisaluc now visible, and worth naming, are those of a castle, mosque, aqueduct, and a Christian church. Historians are divided in their opinion, as to whether in her days of prosperity the place in which we slept was During a ramble of four hours in every direction, we saw once included within the boundaries of the capital of lonia, nothing having life, save a timid buck, which, frightened at or has always been a separate settlement, and known by a our approach, started from amidst some broken marbles, and different name. We are among those who believe that attempted to escape-he, however, was quickly shot, and the remains of Aisaluc were once the ruins of Ephesus; delivered to Hamet, as being too good a prize to lose. He we conceive the whole village was erected from the mar-made a fortunate addition, to what otherwise would have bles, pillars, and columns, removed from another site, and been a frugal fare, for our dinner. The curse which was thrown together without order, and wanting in every rule sent against Sodom and Gomorrah, has not been more fatal of architectural beauty. "The immense dome of St. So-to those unfortunate cities, than has been the destiny of phia now rises from the columns of green jasper which Ephesus. On the spot where we then stood, millions of were originally placed in the temple of Diana, and were infidels had bowed their necks to idols, and countless num. taken down, and removed to Constantinople by order of bers had been converted to Christ, and had eagerly listened Justinian." Two pillars in the great church at Pisa, were to the exhortations of his apostles. Here had been a city of likewise transported from thence. Such being the case, palaces, a residence of kings; here are the remains of an is it not very easy to suppose that the beautiful fragments amphitheatre, the very seats of which, covered as they are we saw at Aisaluc, of veined and polished marble, are with ivy, now exist, to show where thousands had met to pieces of that magnificent structure which once stood on a witness the feats of gladiators, and the dying struggles of plain within sight of the spot where they are now embed-condemned criminals with savage beasts. Here hostile arded-more especially when portions of the same building mies had fought, and the ground oft times been covered with are known to exist at a distance of more than six hundred miles from the place where the architects of Crete, Ctesiphon, and his son Metaganes, five hundred and forty-one years before the Christian era, first began to chisel the blocks of Parian marble to be used in its construction?

The morning we left Aisaluc was one of the loveliest of an Anatolian spring-the soft air was from the south, and loaded with the perfume of the jessamine and geranium,

the slain of the conquered. Well may we ask, where are those who were actors in these varied scenes? The infidel and christian, the princes with their subjects, the victors and the vanquished, have alike disappeared. Nothing but overturned pillars and pedestals, broken columns, scattered fragments of sculptured marbles, and chiselled stones, now tell to the wanderer from the New World, where was the site of this Ionian city. No human being has his abode

within its limits, alike deserted, as it is, by "turbaned Turk," the roving Arab, the penurious Jew, and the degraded, servile Greek. Truly may it be said, silence reigns there, and desolation has marked it for her own. In the sides of Prion we observed many tombs; two of the largest we entered. From their magnificence, we fancied they had been the burial places of kings-they serve at this period, but as a recess for bats, and at night as a hiding place for vipers, and for the numerous insects which creep and crawl on the briars and brambles which nearly conceal their entrance. Exclaiming, "vanity of vanities, all is vanity," we left this desolate spot, to seek the banks of the Cayster. On our way we passed a large building with its bare walls, and naked roof, the lower story of brick, and in a good state of preservation. This was supposed to have been the christian church. A pretty bird was perched above, singing a plaintive air, while in the cellar, which we entered by a descent of some fifteen steps, through a dark passage, we observed a burrowing place for rabbits, and a fit habitation for serpents. "Surely the works of the Lord, are inscrutable, and his ways past finding out." The church of our Saviour, and the mosque of Mahomet, are alike but heaps of ruins--were their altars still standing, no one is left to enter therein and worship, so finished is the destruction of Ephesus, so grievous is its memory. While wending our way to the Cayster, it was quite probable that we had passed over the very spot where the temple of Diana once stood. It is a singular fact, that with but one exception, all the splendid structures of Asia Minor, of the Ionic order, were erected on level and marshy ground-those of Samos, Ephesus, Magnesia, and Sardis, were all thus placed. Whether such situations were chosen by the Grecian architects, as they supposed them less liable to suffer from earthquakes, or because, as a learned author has remarked, while

COME TO THE WOOD.

Wilt thou come to the wild, wild wood with me,
Where the Violet springs 'neath each forest tree,
Where the blue sky smiles, and the soul is free
As the foot of the Stag in chase;
Where the tall pine waves like a warrior's plume,
And, scattering abroad their rich perfume,
The Flow'r-Angels watch over blossom and bloom,
As they smile in Earth's beautiful vase.

Oh! come to the wood-in whose silent shade
Is the Temple which God Himself hath made,
Where the bosom's off'ring is purely laid

On the shrine with its draping of sky;
With no fretted roof to confine the prayer,
The hymn mounts up on the messenger air,
And each chorister's chant sounds sweetly there,
To the praise of the Great One on high.

Then come to the wood-'tis the heart's own home,
With its spacious halls, and its boundless dome,
Whose bright fountains sport with their jewell'd foam,
Ere their music grows faint on the ear;
Each morn hangs her gems on shrub and on tree,
The Sun wakes the lark, and calls up the bee-
Then come to the wood! 'tis the spot for the free,-
Come-the spirit breathes painfully here.

the massy and majestic Doric was best displayed on a Scenery and Adventure in the Far South-West.

THE PRAIRIE MAMOU.

Ye solitude of solitudes! vast and grand;
Ye desert wastes! like seas of land,
Monotonous in your grandeur.

It was a sunny morn in the month of October, that leav ing the border town of Om, we found ourselves in the great Prairie Mamou, of South-Western Louisiana.

lofty rock, the greater proportional height of the elegant Ionic required a level surrounded with hills, is, like the site of the building, from which the argument is drawn, a matter of examination and doubt. Under the alluvial soil, which has, for the last two thousand years, been washed from the hills where Ephesus once flourished, into the valley beneath, we are inclined to believe, still remain the foundation, and many other ruins, of this celebrated temple. Why will not some spirited English nobleman, some European society of dilettanti, some agent of France, or some Far as the eye extended, no object met the vision, no tree wealthy antiquarian of our own country, seek permission or bush or sign of human habitation; the compass is the from the Sultan, to excavate, and expose once more to the only guide to mark the traveller's path across that sterile light of day, and to the gaze of the world, these hidden, waste, the heathery sward his resting place. Here and prostrate marbles? Continually are we hearing of the dis- there may be found some stagnant pool, whose surface is coveries made in those Neapolitan cities of Pompeii and covered over with thick green scum; breathing infection Herculaneum, half buried, as they are, with lava and debris, from its very looks, and whose banks are surrounded with and of the excavations now making in the site of ancient heavy mantled rushes, from whence the Heron starts with Carthage. Recently have we seen Sir Grenville Tem-wild and bittern cry. The face of this extensive plain is ple's arrival at our Island from this latter place, on his way to luxuriantly covered with a short green grass, from beneath France, carrying with him numerous drawings of medals, which there peers flowrets of every hue and shade, from coins and busts, which are to be sent from Tunis, to en-yellow tinge to crimson's richest glow. 'Tis a gay parterre rich and enlarge the already splendid collection of anti- of nature, blooming, redolent and fair, that here "waste quities at the Royal Museum of Paris. Within the past their sweetness on the desert air." month we have observed a letter from Monsieur P——, and willingly rejoice with him at his success, while searching among the ruins of Athens, to have discoverd the remains of the Temple of Victory.

Yet strange is it to add, that the place of all others, which offers to the civilized world the greatest encouragement for excavations, is wholly neglected. Need we again repeat, that it is the site of Ephesus to which we refer, so rich in its remains, so interesting from its history, and so promising from the relics of ancient art, which by searching might there be discovered? Malta, 1840.

It was here, but a short space past, old Ocean foamed, and over its surface rich Argosies have rode; for, but a few feet removed from light fossils, sea-shells, thickly embedded, are to be found in their primitive state of existence. The soil is of a gravelly sand, intermixed with quartz and other flint stones; and the water, wherever found, has a bitterish salt taste.

"There is an indescribable feeling of loneliness, of awe and wonder, when journeying over these sterile wastes. It creeps unknowingly upon the senses, and instils, like gushing fountains, an exuberance of matter; wafting the soul mysteriously away in meditation deep upon the works of the great I AM. The mind is carried in imagination

from theme to theme-from subject to subject-in canvass-round hunting-shirt, his head surmounted with a red cotton ing the gradual operations of nature, until lost in the daz- handkerchief, wound round in many folds, his botteau-de zling light of admiration, he is ready to exclaim with the chasse at his side, with moccasons on his feet, attached to inspired writer, "Mysterious are thy ways, O Lord!" which there projected an enormous pair of spurs, (racafacs) Occasionally there might be seen large gangs of deer in the rowels some six inches long. His steed (a mustang) the distance, bounding across the prairie, or quietly grazing was low in stature, but delicate-limbed, and nearly hidden in some rich bottom; but their wildness renders a near ap- with the bear-skin cover that enclosed the high-mounted proach impracticable. In no part of the world are so great saddle, suspended to which there hung a large pair of a variety of wild feathered game to be found as in these wooden stirrups, the base some six inches wide. The head prairies. Innumerable species of the snipe are every of his animal could scarce be discerned through the many where to be met with, from the little Bobtail of the sandbar, folds of its trappings, surmounted with brass spots, while up to the Beccasse of the plain, which resembles in ap-around his neck was wound an enormous coil of hair rope pearance the English snipe, though far superior both in from which hung suspended a wooden pin. The object of size and flavor. But the boast of these deserts is the this latter accoutrement is for convenience of grazing in the Pouilie-de-Prairie, or Crested Grouse, of the size of a prairies. barn-yard cock, and I think must be similar to the Ptermi- Night with her dark mantle was shrouding the earth, and gan or Heath cock of Scotland. They are found singly, innumerable watch-fires glimmered on the plain around the and can only be taken on the wing; but when brought from encampment of the vachers. The distant bellow of the the fire are truly a bon-bouche. The king-bird of the prairie loud-toned bull, and lowing of the congregated mass of is the Grosbec, to be found on the borders of the innume- cattle, resounded over the plains like hollow thunder. The rable ponds scattered over the surface of these wilds. stars were twinkling in the firmament above in all their They are of an unspotted white, and measure erect from glory, and the sky, clear and unclouded, was as heavenly the ground to the top of the head from four to five feet. bright as beneath an eastern hemisphere. Our stranger One of these we captured shortly after starting; but the friend was on his way to the branding, and kindly invited manner of approaching them is too tedious to bear repeti- us to accompany him His language (that so peculiar to tion, except when pressed for game. You discern them at the country) was French, although much mixed with the the distance of half a mile busily engaged in fishing, when, Spanish. The constant intermarriages between these two dismounting from your horse at a quarter of a mile distant, people, both having settled in the country, has tended to you first sneak stealthily along to within two hundred yards form rather a corrupt dialect and a sui generis people, and of the object, when you throw your body on the ground, this union has given rise to the word Creole. Strictly and wind along like a snake, till within a suitable distance speaking, they are the refugees from Mexico and the Canafor the short rifle. This weapon should always be an ac-dian French. On reaching the encampment, the scene companiment in traversing these plains, as not unfrequent- beggared all description. Some thirty thousand head of ly, in the mid-day sun or the grey moonlight, a deer springs cattle were congregated in one solid mass, within an area up from beneath your feet, and the rifle being swung on the of an hundred acres. Around them in a circle at equal disback, is easily and quickly brought to bear. Barrels of tances, were built watch-fires of pine knots, carried thither twenty-four inches are decidedly preferable. for the purpose, while at each fire were stationed two men with their horses and dogs, to keep this immense body of cattle together. At a short distance were seated the proprietors of this immense herd, busily engaged in the game of Monte, by whom we were heartily welcomed.

During the spring season these prairies are for a length of time covered with water by the heavy rains, at which perod innumerable water-fowls cover their surface. There are to be found the Water-Turkey, similar to the common wild-turkey, but web-footed; the Wild-Goose, and some half dozen species of the Duck, among which are the famed Canvass-back of the Chesapeake; and the Pouille-d'eau, or Water-ben. The method adopted by the natives (Creoles) for taking them, is both novel, original and ingenious: A trained ox is led by a rope, on whose back is swung a heavy carbine, working on a pivot, and capable of discharging a quarter of a pound of shot. The hunter walks by his side, having the ox between him and the game, which enables him to approach unsuspectedly very near to them, when, with one fire of his murderous instrument, he slays his hundreds. I have seen some of these hunters returning from the prairies with their animal so covered with wild fowl, that it was impossible to distinguish his color.

'Tis high noon, and beneath the outstretched tent on the wide and boundless prairie, with the cool breeze that comes booming from the Gulf of Mexico, we make our first repast. And oh! if there is a joy on earth, it is, when far from the busy din of the world, and removed from all worldly cares, you commune only with Nature. As evening closed in on our journey, we discovered a small black spot ahead of us in the dim distance, that increased as we advanced in magnitude; and it was not long before our doubts and misgivings were set at rest. A horseman, mounted on a small but fleet animal, came riding towards us, who imparted the information that there was in the vicinity a great convocation of the opulent owners of cattle, with their stocks, for the purpose of branding. The character of the stranger and his animal was unique, singular, and a true specimen of the Creole of Louisiana. Dressed in a short

The evening banquet of gumbo, tasso, and beef, in every variety of form, was shortly served up by their attendants. And the joy-inspiring wine cup was passed cheerily around, and the soul-stirring song reverberated over the plain, and ascended to the high vaults of Heaven; and all was mirth and joyous life. Many were the tales recounted-of desperate adventures in the chase, of dexterous throws of the lasso in entrapping horses and cattle, and boisterous joysts at former merry-meetings, until the rapid flowing hand of Time had brought the hour of midnight. The moon had risen, and peered forth with her placid mellow light, as she rode triumphantly over the broad ethereal expanse. And here, beneath the canopy of Heaven, and on the broad expansive plain, with the rumbling roar of cattle for our lullaby, we made our first bivouac in the prairies of Western Louisiana, reserving the exciting scene of the branding for the coming morrow.

To those who occupy the more populous parts of our Union, and are confined to the daily routine of business in cities, but little conception can be formed of the novel and exciting incidents in these wild adventures.

Greene County, Alabama.

C. AUSTIN WOODRUFF, M. D.

Mr. CHARLES DICKENS (Boz) is by far the most successful author of modern times. It is said that for the last few years the annual produce of his pen has averaged at least £2000.

THE WINTER'S APPROACH.

'Tis the fall of the leaf in the forests around,

tion, which forcibly reminded us of some of the exalted strains of Southey or Henry Kirke White. We think she is more successful, too, in the lyric than in the heroic mea

Where the hollow winds wail, and how mournful the sound! sure, the former affording freer scope to poetic fervor,

'Tis the sick'ning decay of the delicate flowers,
And the murky clouds gloom in the evening hours;
'Tis the flight of the bird to his Southern-bound home,
That speaks with a voice-"dreary Winter has come!"
We feel the sad warning creep o'er us apace,
The marring of beauty on Nature's fair face;
Though the harvest has yielded its bountiful store,
And the white cotton-fields, as in seasons before ;-
Yet the heart in its fulness a gloom overpowers,

At the blight of the woods and the death of the flowers.
It points a brief moral--of the certain decay,
Of life's fleeting pleasures, now blooming and gay;
And it bids us prepare for the Saviour's returning;
To welcome the bridegroom with lamps brightly burning.
For the fall of the leaf carries with it our doom,
That our journey is down to the dark gloomy tomb.
C. AUSTIN WOODRUFF.

Greene County, Alabama.

Notices of New Works.

whilst the latter from its characteristic monotony is apt to become wearisome. If we were disposed to criticise, we might also suggest that the authoress, who possesses great command of poetic diction, and is not unfrequently beautiful and impressive, is nevertheless too often indistinct and shadowy in depicting the object to the reader's eye. The arena of intellectual effort at the present day teems with such powerful rivalry, that those aspirants who expect to retain the longest hold upon popular favor must make the deepest impression at first. A work that must win its way by slow degrees is likely to be overlooked in the constantly occurring excitements of novelty.

We intended to have prolonged this notice by citing some of the passages from the book which pleased us most--but are prevented for want of space. The work is embellished by a beautiful engraving, representing the page of Pocahontas or Matoa, as she is sometimes called, seated on the flat projection of a rock, commanding a fine water view, with an English ship at anchor.

The Literary Amaranth, for 1841. By N. C. Brooks. Philadelphia: Kay and Brother.

This is the work of a scholar in his moments of playful dalliance with literature, rather than in his earnest, thoughtful mood.

The style of the prose articles is fluent, easy and unaffected, being free from those misplaced pedantic allusions, by which vain men ostentatiously display their various acquirements, at the expense of good taste, and to the no small annoyance of the general reader.

Of the Tales embraced in this collection, "The Young Sizer," was an especial favorite of ours, long before we knew the name of its author. It is well told throughout; but that portion particularly which describes the " College Commencement," we think one of the most vividly graphic things we have ever met with. Here it is, although we feel it will lose considerable of its force by the unavoidable exclusion of the introductory scenes.

Pocahontas-A Poetical Legend-By a Lady of Richmond. In our last number we promised a more extended notice of this work, which we flatter ourselves is already the parlor companion of many of our readers-especially our fair readers, who sympathise with the intellectual efforts of their own sex, and are desirous of catching a glimpse at one of the most lovely and interesting heroines of civi- The Poems, interspersed throughout the work, may be lized or savage life. We never read the story of Pocahon-considered as fair samples of the author's powers, while, tas without the solemn conviction that she was raised up by their wider diffusion in the present form, they are well by Divine Providence to protect and nourish the first germ calculated to enhance his reputation as a true poet. of Christian civilization in the Western World. Her highsouled courage-her gentleness and humanity--her extraordinary sympathies--her inflexible sense of justice,--and above all, her devotional spirit, which found nothing satisfying in the senseless rites of Paganism,--were all so opposed to the habits and prejudices formed by education, that it is difficult, if not impossible, to account for their existence upon mere human principles. Those who candidly investigate her history will, we think, come to the "It was the second day of the commencement. The theaconclusion that there was something far superior to acci-tre of the university was crowded with the beauty and fashdent in the agency which she constantly exerted in our ion of Dublin. The stage was appropriately decorated with early colonial affairs, and it, perhaps, arises from the fact, wreaths and coronals of bay and holly, and, with the prothat the particulars of her eventful life were more remarka-vost, officers, and faculty of the university in their fine colble than even the inventions of fancy--that we felt less interest in the Legendary part of the poem before us than in that which is sustained by authentic record. We could almost wish that the authoress had exclusively employed her skill in bringing out upon the canvass some of those affect ing and heroic incidents which are so well known in the life of Pocahontas, and which are so highly susceptible of poetical embellishment. Her memorable and effectual intercession for Smith, for example; and her subsequent hazardous expedition to Jamestown, to carry succor to the perishing white man, and warn him of meditated destruction, are events which deserve more than a passing notice, and might be finely dilated under the plastic touch of poetical genius. We do not by any means, however, design by these remarks to detract from the merit of what "The music of the orchestra ceased-then died away in the authoress has accomplished, and chosen to accomplish, light echoes, and all was still. There was an interval of a in her own way,-and it must be confessed that in one few moments of breathless suspense, and every eye was part of the Poem, to wit-the Prophecy of the Potomac Sy-directed to the group of students. At length one arose. He bil, which is purely imaginative, and, perhaps somewhat was tall and handsome; and his countenance and bearing extravagant-the authoress has struck a chord of inspira-indicated at once intelligence, and confidence in his abili

lege dresses, and the young graduates in gowns, it presented a most interesting spectacle. To the graduates this day was a triumphal entree into life from the toils of a laborious literary campaign; and as if inspirited by the smiling faces of their friends, the young debutants acquitted themselves in a manner highly creditable to themselves and the professors; and long and loud were the plaudits that rung from pit, box and gallery. The ordinary theses had all been delivered, but before the final conferring of the degrees, there remained to be decided a contest for a golden medal, offered by the university. The competitors were three, and from the very respectable productions of those who had declined competing for the prize, the expectations of the auditory were raised to the highest pitch.

ties. His presence was greeted with loud cheers, and the smiles that were interchanged by many of the spectators, proved that he was not only known to many, but a favorite with them. He spoke, and his accents and pronunciation discovered his English origin. His eloquence was strong and forcible, characterised alike by dignity of thought and powerful utterance. His attitude was noble and commanding, his gestures appropriate. Every eye was riveted upon him-many were the smiles that encouraged him, and the young Englishman concluded amid the deafening acclamations of the delighted auditors. When he had taken his seat, there was a murmur of applause that pervaded the assembly. The professors looked in each other's faces, uttered a few sentences, and bowed. There was something very significant, and ominous of good to the speaker in that inclination of the head.

valled the melody of a fine-toned organ. The commencement of his oration was beautiful; but it was the inanimate beauty of a statue. The nice and delicate arrangement of the members was there-the harmony-the proportion; but life was wanting-that spirit which gives effect to the whole mass, and without which it is nothing. His gestures also were stiff and constrained-more like the involuntary motions of an automaton, than the light movements of animated existence.

"The true Promethean fire came down at length from Heaven, and the statue was animated-it lived-it breathed, and all around felt the spell of its influence. His gestures were, then, the very impulse-the embodied essence of the grand sentiments that he uttered. His eloquence was not of that kind which boasted of preeminence in any one species of excellence; it embraced, in a harmonious whole, all that is rarest and best of the different kinds, happily blended into one, like the mingled colors that form the light of day; and as his subject was one which afforded scope for the display of versatility of talent, he charmed his audience at one time with the sweetness of his diction, again elevated them with the

them with the beautiful creations of fancy, or amazed them with the opulence of his figures, and the boldness of his imagery. There were no plaudits as he came to the periods and pauses of his oration, nor clapping of hands-no waving of scarfs-the body was passive-motionless-while the active mind in all its intensity, caught every sentence-every word-every breath that was uttered.

"The music of the orchestra again rose and died away, and there reigned the same stillness as before. The interest was even heightened, and every one was eager to see who would next enter the literary arena. A young man arose. He was the pride of Dublin, his native city; and the reiterated cheerings that greeted him, attested his popu-sublime, awed them with the grand and terrible, transported larity. His voice was full and sonorous-his periods turn ed with all the power and elegance of rhetorical art-and his gestures, energetic though chaste, revealed through the folds of his flowing gown, the manly proportions of limbs that would have appeared with advantage under the toga of Cicero himself. His eloquence was of that irresistible kind which, like a torrent, bears every thing before it. Each eye brightened-each face beamed as he proceeded, rising at every period, in height and brilliancy like the ascending rocket, till his oratory collecting all its force into a mighty effort, broke forth in conclusion, with loud detonation, in one grand burst of brightness. The effect was electrical. Applause like thunder proclaimed his triumph as he sat down, and many a kerchief and scarf waved a recognition from friends. His victory was to be read in the features of the audience, and in the smiles and gracious nods of the provost and professors.

"There was yet another speaker to be heard-but the interest had, in a great measure, subsided: no one could be expected to equal the late brilliant display of talent; and the many friends of the young Irishman, secure in their success, were rather revolving in their minds the glowing sentences of their favorite, than thinking of the rival who was to succeed him. The music had ceased, and there was a pause—a long, and anxious pause-for delay created anxiety. Moments passed. The people sat on the couches as so many statues. Still no one arose. The professors looked upon the band of students. The eyes of the assemblage, as of one man, followed their glance, to single out from among the group, the last competitor. After an interval, a motion was noticed among the students, and a young man was seen rising. He was pale and thin, one of those emaciated devotees who offer up the oil of life at the shrine of science; and his dark, glossy hair, gave a more sombre and deathlike hue to his bloodless countenance. He wore not the collegiate gown, but was habited in a dress of dark gray, seemingly of coarse texture, and much worn. He rose under evident embarrassment, and was not received with the same plaudits that encouraged his predecessors; for there was something so novel and unexpected in his appearance and dress, that the spectators were struck with astonishment-there was even a faint smile of derision, as they glanced from the abashed countenance of the student, to his rusty and threadbare garments.

"Acquiring confidence as he proceeded, the spirit of his address infused itself into his person: from his eyes gleamed a supernatural brightness-a godlike beauty played around his lips, and the muscles of his slightly-fashioned limbs, swelled out in full proportion, till it might be supposed that the soul of the speaker had burst its barriers, and was gliding around the form it had animated. The interest of his oration was not only maintained-it was increased-every succeeding clause riveted the attention more; and the professors and auditors sat with brows upraised in wonder and astonishment, and lips parted in attention the most painful and intense.

"After he had held the minds of the assembly in a trance for nearly two hours, he drew to a close in all the transcendant power of his unrivalled eloquence-rushed from the stage, and burst into tears. Intense interest had suspended their breathing--a loud inhalation followed his conclusion-there was a deathlike stillnes-the people sat motionless--spellbound with admiration, and silently looking into each other's faces. A moment passed, and applause followed like the fall of an avalanche, which was redoubled, again and again, and again, till the very theatre seemed coming down beneath the thunder of their plaudits.

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The provost arose, and with his hand repressed the noise. A few words passed between the professors-the young Englishman and Irishman gave each a hand to the last speaker, and led him upon the stage, while the secretary rose from his seat, and read from a paper which he held in his hand, "To Arthur Browne, a young American, sometime a sizer of Trinity College, Dublin, the provost and professors award the gold medal for superior excellence in Elocution."

"The Royal Professor" is a capital expose of the arts of pedantic pretenders, though the humor of the tale amounts almost to grotesqueness, and the heroine, to our mind savors a little too much of the "bas bleu." All the other tales are excellent in their way; the one entitled "The Power of Truth," especially so. It is a PRIZE tale. There is also a PRIZE poem, which is a finished production—“The South Sea Island."

"He at length raised his brow to the gazing multitude, and a flush diffused itself over his features as he essayed to speak. His voice at first was low and tremulous, and seemed to struggle in his breast for utterance, but soon Brooks's poetry abounds in gentle and mournful thoughts, swelled out into a fulness and sweetness of sound that ri-tinged with a pure morality that is the more engaging from