nothing would do but she must superintend every nursery arrangement, from the first dose of well, never mind what to the teaching of b-a, ba; be-e, be. I did not know that I should not have to yield ¡ up the naming of the poor little things to Miss Brown's superior taste; she protested loudly against the barbarity and vulgarity of such names as Philip and Mary; she could not bear the conjunction, it put her in mind of Smithfield and its martyr fires; and she did not like them apart-Philip was such an odd name, and so uncommon; and Mary was such a common name, every family, had a Mary in it. But in this matter I found an unexpected ally in my own Mary; and so, for the first time, Miss Brown found herself in a minority of one. To make amends for this defection, however, my dear little wife gave up everything else to her friend's guidance, and Miss Brown was the supreme arbitress. Tops and bottoms, arrow-root, long clothes, short clothes, hot-water baths, cold-water baths, leading strings and physic; in short, it did not matter what, it was always, "What will Miss Brown say? We must consult Miss Brown." Now, if any of my fair readers begin to set me down as a disagreeable old fellow-not so very old either-to be proclaiming in this sort of way the amiable weakness of my young wife, I have only to say, that Mary herself does not think so of me, and that she gives me carte blanche to write what I please. She says, and I entirely believe her, that there are so many Miss Browns in the world, and so many newly-married Marys, that nobody will know where to look for the right ones, so she and her friend are safe. And she says, too, bless her! that a little good-tempered writing, such as minethink of that now!-may-well, I won't say what. I have got my story to finish. I sha'n't write another word to expose my dear little wife. I have faults enough of my own. Riley was a bad fellow, or that he abused my confidence. I mean to say only this, that he made me discontented with my home, dragged me away from it, monopolized the time which I ought to have given to my wife, and, worse than this, kept me from making her my bosom-counselor. Sam was about my own age: we had been school-fellows, had started in life about the same time, and lived near each other. He was not married: he had a queer way of railing at matrimony, goodhumoredly in appearance, but spitefully at heart. Before I was married we had lived on familiar, no-ceremony sort of terms; and I took upon me to assure him that my change of life need make no difference to him in this respect. But Sam knew better than that; and, except that he made a complimentary visit or two to my wife, he rarely entered our doors. "I tell you what it is, Phil," he said; "a husband's friend is never sure of a welcome, and I don't want to run the risk of cold looks, and the cold shoulder; but there's my house, now, stands where it did, and no one to say you nay. Liberty hall, you know, and bachelor's commons. I shall see you by-and-by, in the old fashion, Phil." This was only a week or two after my return from our wedding tour. I laughed at Sam, told him that he envied me, and exhorted him to follow my example. He retorted with the fable of the fox who had lost his tail; and so the matter ended. But no, it did not end there. Three months, it might be perhaps four, after our marriage, I went home from the office, jaded and vexed. I had had enough to vex me; what it was is no matter. As I entered the little hall, I heard merry voices up-stairs. One of them was Mary's. "Who is with your mistress?" I asked of the new servant, who had taken, a day or two before, the place of my faithful old deaf Sarah. "Miss Brown, sir." Miss Brown! always Miss Brown; I thought as much; and there she will sit till nine o'clock, or ten, perhaps, and then I shall have to beau her home; and all that time I shall not have a chance of say Talk about family advisers as domestic nuisances-there was my friend Sam Riley, who was as much "a rock a-head" in the way of our domestic happiness as ever Miss Brown had been. If Missing a word to dear Mary, but Miss Brown Brown was dear Mary's "mother superior," must hear it. All this I thought. I did Sam was my "father confessor;" and no not say it. good came of that, you may be sure, dear reader. I don't mean to say that Sam "Tell your mistress I am going out and shall not be home till late," I said; and I shut the door louder than I need have done, and went to Sam Riley's. That was the beginning of troubles-foolish jealousies on both sides, and estrangements. And yet, I suppose, my dear little wife and I seemed to live as happily together as nine married couples out of every ten. Alas! perhaps we did as we seemed the more the pity if it were so. I only know that, five years after our marriage, we had each a will and a way of our own; and that our matrimonial duets too often ran in this way : "I may thank Mr. Riley for that, I sup- Mary at that dear fireside, I could see by pose, Philip ?" her looks that a secret was on the point of "There spoke Miss Brown, I suppose, breaking out. I had a secret too. Mary." "What do you think? guess, Philip dear." "What do you think? guess, dear Mary.” "You have no confidence in me, Philip: what have I done that everything is to be kept from me in this way? It is all the fault of that Riley, I know." "You treat me as if I were not the master of my own house and servants, and father of my own children, Mary. I don't deserve this of you; but it will never be otherwise while that Miss Brown is everlastingly at your ear." "I wish that Mr. Riley lived a hundred miles off." "No-is going to York; he has bought a practice there, and is off next week, "I wish I had never seen that Miss and joy go with him!" Brown!" One evening I went home earlier than usual, and Mary was alone. The children were in bed. "Philip, dear," said my wife, very timidly and very tenderly. I looked toward her, and saw that she had been crying; tears were still in her eyes, and some old letters lay in a heap before her. Mary clapped her little white hands, and broke into a merry, gleeful laugh,— "And something else with him, Philip; guess, now do guess." "Not a wife? you don't mean that? Who?" "Miss Brown-that dear old plague. She has been here to-day, and told me all about it." And Mary clapped her hands "Philip, dear Philip, are you going out again: "I am so glad. She will make this evening?" such a good wife, and we shall lose our "I thought of it, Mary; but as you are friends-you yours, and I mine—without alone-no." quarreling with them." IDEALISMS.-You accuse me of a propensity to idealize. I am sorry that you do not give me credit for sufficient trueheartedness to love the beautiful devotedly without the necessity of coloring it more highly by any imagination. If it were as you say, I should be fated to turn perpetually to new objects, till cold experience gradually taught me better, and warned me against such folly with bitter mockery,―till I sank into hopeless misery. Such a warmth is not that of life, but the unhealthy and transitory glow of fever.Niebuhr's Life and Letters. FOR A DAY IN NINEVEH. MOR ages Nineveh seemed blotted out of existence. The pyramid-looking mound of Nimroud is alluded to by Xenophon as a scene of crumbling ruins, when he and his ten thousand encamped there twenty-two centuries since. Lucian, who lived on the banks of the Euphrates in the second century, speaks of the great Assyrian city as at that time utterly destroyed, so that none could tell the spot it occupied. Its site was a waste four hundred years later, affording ample space for the movements of the two great armies of Heraclius and Rhazates. The elder Niebuhr passed over the spot without any perception of what it had been, even mistaking the ruins for ridges of hills. Mr. Rich, an enterprising traveler, some thirty years ago, began to examine certain of the mounds near Mosul, whence he found sufficient to indicate that there was something yet to be learned respecting Nineveh, "that great city." But the discoveries he made were small; and a few fragments sent over to the British Museum, inclosed in a case three feet square, which also contained some from Babylon, were long afterward all the relics which Europe possessed of the civilization and art of two among the mightiest of ancient empires. Less than ten years has produced an astonishing change in our knowledge of Nineveh. M. Botta and Dr. Layard have disentombed its remains, and thrown light on its history to such an extent that it is easy now to transport ourselves to the banks of the Tigris, and to see the city as it was in the days of its meridian splendor, its mightiest power, and most palmy pride. But a personal inspection of the Assyrian antiquities, preserved in the Louvre at Paris, and in our own museum, still more powerfully excites the imagination and gives vividness to the picture; because, there you have before you the very sculpture in which the arts, manners, and customs of the people are portrayed, and on which the eyes of the Ninevite citizens gazed between two and three thousand years ago. With the fresh remembrance of what may be seen in these national repositories of art, and with the accounts of Botta and Layard's researches before us, aided by the learning and reflection of other tasteful antiquaries, especially Fergusson and Smirke, we would endeavor to present a tableau vivant of ancient Nineveh; not drawing on our fancy for any of the materials, but simply weaving together what we have gathered by inspecting sculptures and studying books. As we shall suppose ourselves spending a day in the metropolis of Assyria nearly three thousand years ago, it will enable us the better to convey our impressions, if we may be permitted to indulge in the anachronism of employing allusions to subsequent times. The We are on the banks of the Tigris, then, by the great delta formed between that and the river Zab. The country around is undulating, but not mountainous; fertile, but needing the careful art of the husbandman to bring out its fruitfulness. winter rains bountifully enrich the soil, but artificial irrigation is required, and many a canal has been cut for conveying over Assyrian farms the waters of the river, swollen by the melting of the snows on the mountains of Armenia. Vines, olives, and fig-trees are cultivated on the hills. "It is a land of corn and wine, a land of bread and vineyards, a land of olive oil and honey." A plow, not unlike an English one, cuts out the furrow in yonder field; and a cart, also resembling our own, drawn by oxen, is at this moment slowly passing before us. Look along the river, and see how the palace gardens reach down to the margin of the water, terrace beneath terrace, adorned with flowering shrubs. Beside the broad steps, flagged with alabaster, brightly-painted galleys are moored; and, as you watch, you see groups of figures, in oriental costumes, descending to enjoy the cool breeze; while slaves are at their places on board, oar in hand, to row them up the stream. Sit down here for a moment on the bank, under the shadow of those feathery palms, and watch the angler busy with his sport. Mark, too, that temple, under the shadow of which he stands, with its unornamented pilasters and massive columns, the entablature surrounded by little battlements in the Arabian style. Not far off, on the top of that gentle hill covered with the graceful cypress, you discern an altar, or monument, raised on a square base, with fluted shaft. But, perhaps, you have not much taste for agricultural details; then look yonder at the bridge of boats; or, nearer still, observe those men rowing over the river in a large bark, with a chariot on board, some horses swimming after them, led along by bridles in the hand of him who occupies the lofty-crested stern. But we must take you to the city itself. A great city it is, of three days' journey, or sixty miles in circumference, including within that space, woods, gardens, fields, and pasture-lands, whitened here and there with flocks. The city is not all walled round; but certain quarters or divisions of the city are so. In each of these divisions a group of magnificent edifices, reared on elevated foundations, rises aloft with a kingly air over adjacent abodes and other buildings. Between these districts and fortified portions are the agricultural regions, with humble dwellings of mud and reeds, rounded at top, and not appearing dissimilar to the wattled wigwams of modern days in lands halfcivilized. The Ninevites live also in tents as well as houses, and within them, you see, are articles of furniture, such as tables, couches, and chairs; while suspended to the tent-poles are vases for cooling water in this sultry climate. The city, with these broad spaces of rural scenery spread between the fortified quarters, looks like an assemblage of cities rather than a gigantic unity. Yet, the latter it really is; and these distinct clusters of magnificent buildings have been raised at different times by mighty princes, who have thus extended the range of their capital, and sought to leave a monument of their wealth and glory. Along the roads, under the walls of this huge fortification, you now see a royal procession; the king, gorgeously habited, riding in his chariot, with horses four abreast; and other chariots containing standard-bearers, the animals richly caparisoned, "the Assyrians clothed in blue, captains and rulers, all of them desirable young men, horsemen riding upon horses." The chiefs of the eunuchs wear long robes, and fringed scarfs, and embroidered girdles. Soldiers are in coats of chained mail and conical-shaped helmets, just like the pictures of our Norman knights. The personages of the group evidently have taken especial care of their hair and beards the former being gathered up on the shoulders, the latter curiously curled in rows. Their eye-lids are painted black, their ears are pierced with rings, and their wrists are encircled with elegant bracelets. As the royal cortége sweeps up toward one of the neighboring palaces, there are ladies looking over the battlements of the walls between the towers, upon the brilliant pageantry, with evident signs of interest. Their hair flows over their shoulders, but it is confined about the head with a fillet: their dress is fashioned round the waist by a sash. The walls of the fortifications are of immense thickness, some as much as forty-five feet, and are composed of two or three courses of massive masonry, to the height of about four feet. Above, the structure is of surdried bricks, for which the materials are abundantly supplied in the alluvial soil of the neighborhood. The edifices which crown the different quarters, and form the citadels, are raised conspicuously on artificial mounds or platforms. Let us examine the one before us. We ascend, and pass through a gateway placed on a noble terrace in front of the main building, crossing a beautiful garden full of the richest colors and sweetest odors. We reach another elevation in front of the chief entrance. Climbing the broad steps which conduct to the top, we there pass between gigantic figures, which are of frequent occurrence in this strange city, and must detain us for a moment. The outer edge on each side exhibits two human-headed bulls, with lofty wings, standing back to back; and between them an enormous human figure strangling a lion in his arms. Between these there are two other winged bulls looking outward, designed on a yet vaster scale. Statues of this description adorn every part of this huge pile of architecture. Winged lions, of the same general character with the bulls, are found in other portions of the city, guarding the approach to stately edifices. As many as six may be found gracing one door-way-two forming the pillars, and two placed on the anterior front of each of the lateral piers. Certain of these colossal creatures have human arms, with the legs of lions, one hand carrying a goat or stag, the other a bunch of flowers. They are carved in stone of different kinds, and manifest the eminence of the sculptor's skill. They are bold in execution as well as design, and have a life-like appearance if you continue to gaze on them. The features in the face are thrown out in strong relief, while the rows of curls on the beard and the feathers on the wings are chiseled with exquisite skill and truthfulness. Amazing strength is expressed in the distinctly-marked muscles of the limbs; and the hoof of the bull and paw of the lion are hewn with admirable precision. These strange animals are clothed with drapery, fastened by a bandage displaying tasseled ends. We must, however, hasten away from these specimens of Assyrian art, and enter one of the courts to gaze on the immense façades before us. In the center is a splendid portal, consisting of two advanced pedestals, on each side of which stand another pair of bulls, back to back, with another giant in conflict with a lion. Courts, surrounded by such façades, having portals of the kind now described, occur with a frequency that confuse the stranger who has only time to take a hasty glance. The attention of the visitor may well be riveted on these external walls, which are all sculptured and painted over with a life-like form, especially now that the sun is at the noonday hour shedding on them, through a pure oriental atmosphere, his most brilliant beams. The daily life, the manners and customs, the costumes and ornaments, the occupations and tastes of Assyrian society, from the monarch and his court down to the humblest soldier and the meanest artisan, are depicted on these walls; so that, as from the surface of a calm lake or river, the surrounding scenery of the city is thrown back in all its shapes and hues. But we have not yet entered within the building. Step into this vast chamber through one of its great door-ways. Take a side one, and glance at the winged figures, human and hawk-headed, which, instead of common posts, sustain the lintel. The center entrance is a repetition of the winged bulls. Having entered, look around. What a collection of bass-reliefs on the wall! To the height of ten feet or more, there are slabs of alabaster, exhibiting the achievements of Assyrian monarchs. War is the principal subject. Chariots and horsemen are seen going out to the field, or engaged in the conflict, or returning from the victory. Captives are paying tribute, or undergoing punishment. The pleasures of the chase relieve these martial scenes. There are trees and huntsmen. Yonder are representations of the Assyrian court; and, again, there are subjects of religious significancy. VOL. II, No. 3.—T The eye is bewildered with these minutelycarved and variegated slabs, affording materials for the study of the kingdom's history, the monarch's character, and the people's employments. Courses of sunburnt bricks surmount these slabs, which are enameled and painted with architectural ornaments, honeysuckles, and scrolls. The walls of this long chamber are carried up to the height of about nineteen feet, with a low parapet on the top, which from its exceeding breadth forms a platform where people can walk. Double rows of dwarf pillars run along the platform, and support a flat roof, plastered on the upper surface. Two rows of pillars also divide the center of the hall lengthwise, and bear up the main roof, which is also flat, angular roofs with trussed timbers being apparently unknown in this stage of architectural design. Curtains are hung round these upper stories, and serve to temper the sunlight as it flows into the body of the hall. The ceiling is painted in gorgeous colors, and inlaid with precious wood and ivory. The beams are of cedar. and gold-leaf and plates of precious metal are used profusely in the decoration. The chamber is paved with alabaster slabs, curiously inscribed with royal names, genealogies, and exploits. Winged bulls, monstrous animals, and a tree of mystic import, are of constant occurrence among the ornaments of this and other chambers. At the upper end is the colossal figure of the king in adoration before the supreme deity, or receiving from his attendants the sacred cup. He is attended by warriors bearing his arms, and ministered to by winged priests or presiding divinities. His robes, and those of his followers, are adorned with groups of human figures, animals, and flowers. This building, within the halls of which we wander, has a two-fold design. It is a temple as well as a palace. A sacred character is given to all its courts and chambers. The king is priest-a hallowed, almost a divine, personage. He is the worshiper, the friend. the child of the gods. The symbol to which he pays his adoration is a winged figure, in a circle, carrying a sword and holding a bow. It betokens the deity of war, and is in harmony with the character of the nation, whose dominant tastes and favorite pursuits are all martial. The monarch is regarded as the special object of the divine care; and in the bass-reliefs |