had only stunned him—he looked around and found that all near him was quiet, but a far different scene presented itself from the town. The roar of cannon and the bursting of bombs thundered through the air, which was rendered livid and tremendous by long spires of fire streaming from the burning houses and mingling with the volumes of smoke which rolled from the guns. The dreadful tocsin and the hurrahs of the victors pierced the soul of the count. Springing from the ground, he was preparing to rush toward the gates, when loud cries of distress issued from the interior of the place, and a moment after the grand magazine blew up with a horrible explosion.

In an instant the field before Prague was filled with women and children flying in all directions and rending the sky with their shrieks.

"Father almighty," cried Thaddeus, wringing his hands, "canst thou suffer this?"

While he yet spoke some straggling Cossacks from the town, who were prowling about, glutted but not sated with blood, seized the poor fugitives, and with a ferocity as wanton as unmanly released them at once from life and affliction.

other. With eager eye he seizes the moon's place in the heavens, and her age, and rapidly computes where she will be at her next change: he finds the new moon occurring far from the sun's track. He runs round another revolution; the place of the new moon falls closer to the sun's path, and the next yet closer, until, reaching forward with piercing intellectual vigor, he at last finds a new moon which occurs precisely at the computed time of her passage across the sun's track. Here he makes his stand, and on the day of the occurrence of that new moon he announces to the startled inhabitants of the world that the sun shall expire in dark eclipse. Bold prediction! Mysterious prophet! With what scorn must the unthinking world have received this solemn declaration! How slowly do the moons roll away, and with what intense anxiety does the stern philosopher await the coming of that day which should crown him with victory or dash him to the ground in ruin and disgrace! Time to him moves on leaden wings; day after day, and at last hour after hour, roll heavily away. The last night is gone; the moon has disappeared from his eagle gaze in her approach to the sun, and the dawn of the eventful day breaks in beauty on the slumbering world.

This daring man, stern in his faith, climbs alone to his rocky home and greets the sun as he rises and mounts the heavens, scattering brightness and glory in his path. Beneath him is spread out the populous city, already teeming with life and activity. The busy morning hum rises on the still air and reaches the watching-place of the solitary astronomer. The thousands below him, uncon

scious of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement. The sun slowly climbs the heavens, round and bright and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top almost begins to waver in the sternness of his faith as the morning hours roll away. But the time of his triumph, long delayed, at length begins to dawn; a pale and sickly hue creeps over the face of nature. The sun has reached his highest point, but his splendor is dimmed, his light is feeble. At last it comes! Blackness is eating away his round disc. Onward with slow but steady pace the dark veil moves, blacker than a thousand nights. The gloom deepens; the ghastly hue of death covers the universe, the last ray is gone, and horror reigns. A wail of terror fills the murky air, the clangor of brazen trumpets resounds, an agony of despair dashes the stricken millions to the ground, while that lone man, erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to heaven, pours forth the grateful gushings of his heart to God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory. Search the records of our race, and point me, if you can, to a scene more grand, more beautiful. It is to me the proudest victory that genius ever won. It was the conquering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, of terror, all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single

arm.

And now do you demand the name of this wonderful man? Alas! what a lesson of the instability of earthly fame are we taught in this simple recital! He who had raised himself immeasurably above his race, who must have been regarded by his fellows as little less than a god, who had inscribed his fame

on the very heavens and had written it in the sun with a "pen of iron and the point of a diamond," even this one has perished from the earth; name, age, country, are all swept into oblivion, but his proud achievement stands. The monument reared to his honor stands, and, although the touch of Time has effaced the lettering of his name, it is powerless, and cannot destroy the fruits of his victory.

Ο

ORMSBY M. MITCHEL.

THE BELLE.

N Sunday see the haughty maid In all the glare of dress arrayed, Decked in her most fantastic gown Because a stranger's come to town; Heedless at church she spends the day, For homelier folks may serve to pray, And for devotion those may go Who can have nothing else to do. Beauties at church may spend their care in Far other work than pious hearing; They've beaux to conquer, belles to rival: To make them serious were uncivil. For, like the preacher, they each Sunday Must do their whole week's work in one day.

As though they meant to take by blows
The opposing galleries of beaux,
To church the female squadron move
All armed with weapons used in love.
Like colored ensigns gay and fair,
High caps rise floating in the air;
Bright silk its varied radiance flings,
And streamers wave in kissing-strings;
Each bears th' artillery of her charms
Like training-bands at viewing arms.

JOHN TRUMBull.

R

RHIANUS.

HIANUS, who lived about 250 or 225 A. D., was a native of Bena, in the island of Crete. He was originally master of the Palæstra, or circus of gymnastic exercises, but was afterward distinguished as a poet and grammarian. He wrote a history of Messene in verse, of which the accuracy is praised by Pausanias, and composed similar historic poems on different Grecian states. Suetonius relates that Tiberius was particularly partial to the poems of Rhianus, and that he placed his bust in the public libraries, among those of the most eminent poets.

HUMAN FOLLY.

FROM THE GREEK OF RHIANUS.

Still err our mortal souls, nor wisely bear The Heaven-dealt lots that still depress the scale

From side to side. The man of indigence Loads with his bitter blame the gods, and,

stung

With discontent, neglects his mental powers And energies, nor dares, courageous, aught Of speech or action, trembling when the rich

Appear before him, sadness and despair Eating his very heart; while he who swells With proud prosperity, whom Heaven endows

FROM THE LATIN OF CAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS.

Slow faring on o'er many a land and sea, Brother! I come to thy sad obsequyThe last fond tribute to the dead impart, And call thee, speechless ashes as thou art,

In vain-alas, in vain!-ye gallant few, From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew :

Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell unwept without a crimeFound not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe. Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,

surveyed,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid..

"O Heaven," he cried, "my bleeding country save!

career.

Hope for a season bade the world farewell And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell.

there:

plains,

Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains! By that dread name we wave the sword on high,

And swear for her to live, with her to die."

He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,

Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin

glow,

His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below; The storm prevails, the rampart yields a

way,

Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay. Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall

A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call; Earth shook, red meteors flashed along the sky,

And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry.