toned music I hear?' 'It is produced,' said he, ' by the motion and concussion of the stars; a combination of intervals unequal, but separate by a fixed proportion. By a blending of acute and grave tones, they utter forth a various and equally sustained harmony; for it is impossible that bodies so vast should revolve in silence. It is a law' of nature, that of extremities, the one shall give out a grave tone, the other an acute. In this way, the revolutions of the superior stars, being more rapid, are attended by a loud and acute sound; that of the moon, in conjunction with the lowest, by the gravest sound; the earth, which is the ninth globe, and immoveable in the centre of the universe, is lowest of all. The eight revolving globes, two of them acting with equal force, produce seven distinct sounds; which number may be called the knot* of all things.

'Learned men, who, copying nature, have imitated these sounds on strings and the voice, have thus procured their re-admission to this place; as also other men of genius, who have cultivated divine studies. So overwhelming is this sound, that human ears have become deaf to it. No one of the senses is so blunt as that of hearing. The inhabitants of Catadupa, where the Nile rushes over precipitous mountains, with a tremendous roar, have lost this sense, in consequence of the intensity of the sound. Here, the noise produced by the immense velocity of the revolving universe, is so vast, that human ears cannot receive it; just as it is impossible to look directly upon the sun, without destroying the organ of vision.'

Amazed as I was, I yet cast my eyes to earth occasionally. I see,' said Africanus, 'that you are still contemplating the abode of man. If it seems to you as insignificant as it truly is, be ever mindful of the things of heaven, and despise the earthly. For what celebrity or glory, worth the seeking, can you attain? You observe that a few narrow and scattered tracts comprise the whole inhabited portion of the earth; that in these spots vast deserts are interspersed; and that the inhabitants, some on either side of you, some behind, and some opposite, are so effectually disjoined, that no inter-communication can take place. From these you certainly cannot expect any glory.

'You perceive that the earth is encompassed by certain zones; that two of them, the most remote from each other, and resting upon either pole, are in a state of congelation; and that the intermediate and broadest one is scorched with the heat of the sun; so that but two of the zones are habitable. The men who walk the southern zone, being on the opposite side of the earth, can have no communication with your nation. Of the northern zone, which you inhabit, observe how small a strip has fallen to you. The whole tract, of inconsiderable length, but of greater breadth, forms a sort of petty island, washed by the sea which you call the Atlantic, the Great, the Ocean. Behold how small the subject of these grand epithets! Now in the inhabited and known countries, even, can the name of yourself, or any of your countrymen, scale yonder Caucasus, or swim the Gan

THE ancients supposed that the number seven was possessed of various mysterious properties. Cicero's idea seems to be, that it was a sort of key to the secrets of nature; a knot, in which they are bound up.

ges? Who in the remote regions of the rising or setting sun, of the north or south, will ever bear your name? And these apart, you must be sensible that but a small space is left for the diffusion of your glory. Those men, too, who now talk of you, how long will they do so ?

Supposing that future generations should successively transmit our praises to their posterity, as they received them from their fathers ; still, by reason of deluges and conflagrations, which must occur at stated periods, our glory cannot be durable, much less eternal. Moreover, of what importance are the praises of posterity, while it is impossible to obtain those of preceding ages; when men were as numerous, and certainly better than now?

•Furthermore, among those whom our names may reach, no fame can be acquired which shall endure for a year : for though, in popular language, a year is measured by the periodical return to one place of a single heavenly body, the sun, yet the

full year is complete only when the stars shall return to their original starting places, and present, after the lapse of ages, the same configuration as at the beginning. How many generations of men it comprises, I scarcely dare affirm.* In former times, when the soul of Romulus entered this abode, men thought the sun had left his station, and become extinct. Now when the sun shall have again arrived at the same spot, and again withheld his light, and all the stars and constellations been recalled to their first positions, then a full year will have elapsed; but of this not the twentieth part has yet rolled by.

• If a distressing doubt of your return to this abode of the great and eminent has ever harassed you, of what value is human glory, that can barely endure through a small part of a single year? If you would look upward, and contemplate this as your eternal home; if you would not live for vulgar renown, nor fix your hopes on human rewards ; let Virtue, by her intrinsic allurements, incite you to true glory. Some will indeed talk of you, but trouble not yourself as to what they may say; for all fame is restricted to yonder narrow regions ; it has never been perennial, in a single instance; it is demolished by the hand of Death; it is extinguished in the oblivion of posterity.

• Africanus,' said I, when he had finished, if for those who have deserved well of their country, a path is opened to the gates of heaven, although from my childhood I have walked in the steps of yourself and my father, and thus endeavored to sustain your glory, yet now that so high a prize is held up, I shall strive with greater vigilance.'

Strive on,' said he, “and keep in mind that it is not yourself but your body that is mortal. You are not manifest in that form of yours ; the mind is the man; not the shape, which may be described with the finger. Know, then, that you are a god; for that must have a divine nature, which lives, thinks, remembers, foresees; which rules, directs, and moves the body, as the Supreme God does the universe; and as God, who keeps in operation the universe, which is in some degree mortal, is eternal, so the soul, which animates the frail body, is immortal. For whatever possesses the attribute of perpetual mo

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tion, has also that of eternity; but a cause of motion, which is subject to external influence, must, whenever the motion ceases, have itself ceased to operate. Self-motion, then, can alone be perpetual, since its cause is inherent and unfailing. It is also the source and first cause of all other motion. But a first cause can have no antecedent; for all things are effects of it, nor would it be a first cause, if it had been created; and if it had no antecedent, it can never become extinct; in which case, this first cause of motion could neither be re-produced by a like, nor create a like from itself. All motion, then, must result from some original impelling cause, which, it appears, must be a self-moving power. It must also be increate and imperishable; for all heaven might fall together, and all nature stand still, without generating a power sufficient of itself to give a motive impulse.

'Since then it appears that whatever is self-moved is eternal, who will deny the immortality of the soul? For all bodies that are subject to external impulse, are inanimate; animate bodies, on the other hand, are governed by internal impulse. Such is the constitution of the mind; and since it alone possesess the power of selfmotion, and is increate, it must be eternal. Train it, then, in the noblest exercises; the noblest of all, is guarding your country's weal. The mind that is practised and worn out in such pursuits, will wing its way with a speedier flight to this abode, its own home; and the sooner if, while enclosed in the body, it shall occasionally rove abroad, and lose itself in the contemplation of celestial scenes. Those who

have surrendered themselves to corporeal pleasures, and bound them-
selves, in a willing servitude, to sensual delights, have violated the
laws of God and man. Their souls, when loosed from the body, will
hover around the earth; for ages they must be tossed about in expi-
ation of their crimes, before they will be re-admitted hither.'
He vanished: I awoke.

SONG OF THE SEA.

BY LIEUTENANT G. W.

PATTEN, UNITED STATES' ARMY.

My home is on the heaving sea,

Beyond the breakers' roar,

And I never know a thought of wo,

Save when I see the shore;
My life is like a flashing car,
And like a merry stave,

For I whirl along the deep, huzza!
And I dance upon the wave!

Amid the calm, without a care,
For aught that earth can bring,
Wide rocking in the idle air,

I sit aloft and sing;

And when the storm booms fierce and far,
Regardless of the gale,

I climb the slippery shrouds, huzza!
And bend the bellying sail!

(Hammock, Okefonokee Swamp.)

The woodland note is sweet to hear,
And soft the hum of hives;
But there's no music to my ear,
Like that which Ocean gives,
When fierce our barque, with every spar
'Taught strain'd,' her flight to urge,
'Mid rattling tramp, and wild huzza,
Beats back the bristling surge!

They say the landsman's bosom thrills
With deeper joy than ours,
That glory crowns the sunset hills,
And fragrance scents the bowers:

But off! stretch seaward from the bar!
Spread out the canvass free!

And should they hail, trump back, 'huzza!
Our home is on the sea!'

ELEGY.

FROM THE GERMAN OF FRIEDRICH VON MATTHISSON.

WRITTEN IN THE RUINS OF AN OLD CASTLE.*

I.

SILENT, in the veil of evening twilight,
Rests the plain; the woodland song is still,
Save that here, amid these mouldering ruins,
Chirps a cricket, mournfully and shrill;
Silence sinks from skies without a shadow,
Slowly wind the herds from field and meadow,
And the weary hind to the repose

Of his father's lowly cottage goes.

II.

Here, upon this hill, by forests bounded,
Mid the ruins of departed days,
By the awful shapes of Eld surrounded,
Sadness! unto thee my song I raise!
Sadly think I what in gray old ages
Were these wrecks of lordly heritages;
A majestic castle, like a crown,

Placed upon the mountain's brow of stone.

III.

There, where round the column's gloomy ruins,
Sadly whispering, clings the ivy green,
And the evening twilight's mournful shimmer
Blinks the empty window space between,
Blessed perhaps a father's teariul eye
Once the noblest son of Germany;

One whose heart, with high ambition rife,
Warmly swelled to meet the coming strife.

IV.

Go in peace! thus spake the hoary warrior,
As he girded on his sword of fame;
Come not back again, or come as victor,

Oh be worthy of thy father's name!
And the noble youth's bright eyes were throwing
Deadly flashes forth! his cheeks were glowing,
As with full blown branches the red rose
In the purple light of morning glows.

V.