The words inscribed over Cotton Mather's study-" Be short"are the only rule that can rival this in appropriateness: but that fails in respect of generalization, for there might be exceptions to it, whereas to this there could be no exception. Should any say that he can never get through the subject he is entering, that try as long as he may he can never "express the inexpressible," this motto would caution to stop before he begins. It might catch the eye of the transcendentalist while his pen is galloping across his page, and induce him to draw rein, and benefit mankind by dig. ging in his garden.

No work has come down to us on the stream of time from remote antiquity that you could not clasp between your thumb and finger; the ponderous authors have all sunk like lead to the bottom. Humble Esop's Fables have survived thousands of learned tomes that went to heat the baths of Alexandria. Of literary glory, they have often gained most who sought it least. To seek supremely is to forfeit Fame: that capricious goddess spurns from her feet all abject worshippers: they only are crowned with her unfading garland who pay their devotions in the temple of Truth.

An immortal book is a beautiful proof of the soul's immortality. Shall that which is made be more enduring than its maker? Man's material works, like his material frame, slowly but surely decay: the best productions of his mind live not only with a perpetual, but a growing existence; they realize a perennial youth; and attest in this world his immortality in the next.

Thus to delight and profit mankind through ceaseless ages, is the most exalted achievment of mind! Little wonder that the dazzling prize should attract a countless throng of aspirants. Lament we that so many thousands fall short on the race-that the toils of those who succeed are infinitely surpassed by those that fail? That were absurd. What if in the Olympic foot race, the laurel crown had descended on the brows of all the competitors instead of the single victor? Honors like diamonds are precious in proportion as they are scarce. This paucity of success hath ever been and must be the grand stimulant to intellectual exertions, which in themselves are profitable. Did all obtain who seek fame, the result would be similar to that of success in finding the Philosopher's Stone, which by transmuting the base metals, might increase gold, but would diminish riches, by taking from that its greatest value, rarity.

DEVOTED FRIENDS.

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.

The insect tribes go wandering by,
Each for himself; the bee's keen eye
Sees where the honeyed nectaries lie;
The butterfly coquetteth free

With zephyr, sunbeam, flower and tree,—
The banker ant, his gains doth hoard,
With forethought, for his winter board,—
The plodding beetle onward wends,
The locust hath his private ends,

And shapes the warlike wasp, with care,
His architecture, strange and rare.

So with the birds; careering high,

Some straw to weave their nests, they spy,
Nor spare to steal the tissues fine,
With tapestry its nook to line;

Then close, in curtained cells they bide,
Their dearest joys from us to hide,

Or, soaring, taunt our earth-born care
With happiness we may not share,
Save that we gather from the air,
Some snatches of their heaven-taught lay
To warn us of a cloudless day.

But ye, meek Friends, with love so true,
Unselfish, constant, ever new,-
For us alone, from prisoning dust
To beauty and to bloom ye burst,—
For us, ye give, in dell and plain,
Your all,-requiring naught again,—
Without reserve, your noblest powers,
Blush, odor, solace, life,―are ours,—
Your mission o'er, with one sweet sigh,
Comes your last gift,-the lesson high,
How innocence, and peace may die.

LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR OF CLASSIC VAGARIES.

DEAR S: In my communication to you on the subject of the Roman Angler, a few serious typographical mistakes occurred. May I trouble you to correct them.*

In the last chapter of the "Vagaries," I omitted to mention one amusing fact, illustrating the passion of Roman epicures for the mullet. You have read Cicero's defence of Milo, as it has come down to us from his own pen. No doubt you have been delighted with so fine a model of criminal pleading-for Milo was charged with murder. But you knew Milo was found guilty. Do not be surprised: Cicero did not deliver the oration now extant. Embarrassed by the shouts and threats of the partizans of Clodius-the man so justly slain by Milo's adherents-and by the military array of an armed police, stationed around the tribunal to prevent popular violence, Cicero did not dare to make the defence which he had prepared with reference to a favoring populace instead of an opposing mob. His self possession was gone, and he did neither himself nor Milo justice. Milo went immediately into exile at Marseilles. Shortly after his arrival there, he received from Cicero a copy of the oration as Cicero had originally prepared it. Having read it over, he sent back to Cicero this phlegmatic reply: "I am glad you did not deliver the oration in my behalf as you wrote it if you had, I should not now be luxuriating on such noble mullets as those I dine upon here."

While I write, the bell is tolling in token of the national grief for the loss of the most illustrious of our fellow-citizens, JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. His desire to "die in harness" has been the subject of newspaper gossip for years. His wish, so full of the pride of patriotism, was granted. Death invaded the Council-Hall of this great people and claimed his noble victim there. The circumstance, of course reminds me of the fall of Chatham in the House of Lords, from which he was carried out to die. I remember also in the same connexion a remark of Professor SILLIMAN, of Yale College. "I would," said he, one day, to his class in chemistry, as soon be taken away, in the providence of God, while engaged in an experiment before you as in the closet at prayer. Either place, I trust, would be the post of duty." But the peculiar history

84th page, line 25, for "salt fish," read "salt water fish;" line 32, for preserving," read "persevering;" 86th page, line 31, for "Formiae," read "Formiæ;" page 87, line 11, for " aroma," read "round:" page 88, line 6, for "a golden hook," read golden hooks." The note at the bottom of 85th page, belongs to the 38th line of page 86. Other mistakes the reader can correct for himself.

of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS reminds me most especially-so Roman are my predilections-not only of Cato* but of Turennius, a provincial governor in the time of Julius Cæsar. Seneca speaks of him thus. "Turrennius was an old man of most scrupulous industry. As he was past ninety years of age, Cæsar offered him a dismission from his office and he accepted it. But the circumstance so stung him, that he immediately gave orders that he should be laid out like a corpse on his bed and that his family should weep around him as if he were really no more. Thus were his household compelled to continue to bewail the old man's retirement from public life until, by an imperial order, his office was restored to him. Nay but is it pleasant to die while thus engaged?" Seneca, however, by no means admired this mode of dying in harness. He says; he is base, who, weary of life sooner than of labor, falls in the midst of his duties."

Since writing about the "Christians of Rome," several persons have confessed to me that they take great interest in the subject. The progress of principles, professed by a body of outlaws, who could not proclaim their creed aloud, or advocate it in popular assemblies, or bring to its aid power and position, appearing at so early an age, seems amazing to all. In a Roman province, men and women and youths, of every rank in society, had become Christians, without any noisy revolution or social excitement. The true religion had spread so far, that idol-worship was almost abandoned, victims were seldom purchased in the shambles, and heathen rites rarely performed. Some have asked me whether this progress continued, or was subject to ebbs and revulsions. To this inquiry, it may be enough to cite in reply a passage from Tertullian's "Apology." Addressing the pagan Romans, he exclaims: "We are but of yesterday, yet we have filled every place that belongs to you; your cities, your islands, your mountain fastnesses, your townships, your election districts, your very camps, your tribes, your tithings, your imperial court, your senate, your market place: we leave you nothing but your pagan temples!"'+

See vol. 1st, page 103.

This letter was unintentionally omitted in the last number. Its value, however, bespeaks for it a place in this.

THE CORONATION OF NAPOLEON.

BY GEORGE HENRY BURNHAM.

The rise and elevation of Napoleon Bonaparte, is perhaps unparalleled in the history of the world. Commencing as lieutenant of artillery, he soon rose to the rank of general, and at the early age of twenty-five, was appointed to the chief command of one of the armies of the French Republic-the army of Italy. That army he found scattered along the ridges of the Alps, and though full of courage, and panting for action, yet destitute of magazines and military stores, in want of food and clothing, and suffering from cold and hunger. As if foreseeing the successes which awaited him, he addressed his soldiers in that bold, stirring language, which he so well knew how to use. He told them he had come to lead them into the most fertile plains which the sun looks upon, where they would find rich provinces and opulent towns, and where they could reap harvests of honor and glory. At once forming the plan of the campaign, he immediately proceeded to put it in execu

In less than a month from the time of commencing operations, he opened the way into Italy, gained the splendid victories of Montenotte, Millesimo, and Mondovi, over forces greatly superior to his own in numbers, broke asunder the Austro-Sardinian army, and compelled the king of Sardinia to abandon the coalition, and make peace with the Republic. Losing no time, he followed after the retreating Austrians, crossed the Po, forced a passage of the Adda, at Lodi, routed the imperial forces, and entered Milan in triumph. Austria, trembling for her Italian possessions, redoubled her efforts. A second, and yet a third army was sent to cope with the youthful conqueror. But though thrice reinforced, the three armies were each in turn vanquished; and the victorious general, turning his attention for a little time to the Italian states, and compelling them all to acknowledge the sway of the French Republic, then took up his march for the Austrian capital. All opposition was driven before him, and he continued to advance, until from the summits of the Noric Alps, the steeples of Vienna were seen in the distance. The imperial court was in consternation, and at length sued for peace. An armistice was granted, and Napoleon returning to Milan, concluded a treaty; proving himself in the negoitation as able a diplomatist as he had already shown himself a warrior. Taking up his residence at Montibello, he there held his court in more than royal splendor. Envoys of Austria, of the Pope, of Sardinia, Genoa, Naples, Venice, and the Swiss Republics, were there assembled. Warriors whose deeds had filled Europe with their renown, were gathered about, and couriers com