Quiz. (Aside.) Hang it! what shall I say now? (To him.) The Latin classics? Oh, really, sir, I admire them all so much, it is difficult to say.

Sir Ch. Virgil is my favorite. How very expressive is his description of the unconquerable passion of Queen Dido, where he says, "Hæret lateri lethalis arundo!" Is not that very expressive?

Quiz. Very expressive, indeed, sir. (Aside.) I wish we were forty miles asunder. I shall never be able to hold out much longer at this rate.

Sir Ch. And Ovid is not without his charms.

Quiz. He is not, indeed, sir.

Sir Ch. And what a dear, enchanting fellow Horace is! Quiz. Wonderfully so!

Sir Ch. Pray, what do you think of Xenophon?

་

Quiz. (Aside.) Who the plague is he, I wonder? Xenophon! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir.

Sir Ch. Good Latin, man! He wrote Greek; good Greek, you meant.

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed! (In great confusion.) I meant Greek;-did I say Latin? I really meant Greek. (Aside.) Bless me! I don't know what I mean myself.

Sir Ch. Oh! I have been trying a long time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I can't for my life think of it. You doubtless can tell me. Quiz. 0 yes, his name was—but which of them do you mean? What was he called?

Sir Ch. What was he called? Why, that's the very thing I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born of the Harpy Celano. I can't, for the blood of me, tell it.

Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me! if I can either. (To him.) Born of the Harpy-oh! his name was-(striking his forehead.) Gracious! I forget it now. His name was-waswas-Strange! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C.

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember; 't was Xanthus, Xanthus! I remember now, 'twas Xanthus;-plague o' the name! that's it.

Quiz. So 'tis. "Thankus, Thankus !"- that's it. Strange, I could not remember it. (Aside.) "Twould have been stranger, if I had.

Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, sir.

Quiz. (Aside.) Dear me! I wish I was absent altogether.

Sir Ch. We shall not disagree about learning, sir. I discover you are a man, not only of profound learning, but

correct taste.

Quiz. (Aside.) I am glad you have found that out, for I never should. I came here to quiz the old fellow, and he'll quiz me, I fear. (To him.) O, by-the-by, I have been so confused-I mean, so confounded-pshaw! so much engrossed with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost forgotten to give you a letter from your

son.

Sir Ch. Bless me, sir! why did you delay that pleasure so long?

Quiz. I beg pardon, sir; here 'tis. (Gives a letter.) Sir Ch. (Puts on his spectacles and reads.) "To Miss Clara!"

Quiz. No, no, no;-that's not it;-here 't is. (Takes the letter and gives him another.)

Sir Ch. What are you the bearer of love epistles, too? Quiz. (Aside.) What a horrid blunder! (To him.) Oh, no, sir: that letter is from a female cousin at a boarding school, to Miss Clara Upright-no, Downright-that's the name.

(Reads.)

Sir Ch. Truly she writes a good masculine fist. Well, let me see what my boy has to say. "Dear Father: There is a famous Greek manuscript just come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thousand dollars. Send the money by the bearer."

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you, in the true Lacedæmonian style; laconic. Well, the boy shall have it, were it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek manuscript. Pray, sir, did you ever see it?

Quiz. I can't say I ever did, sir. (Aside.) This is the only truth I have been able to edge in yet.

NEW EC. S.-26

Sir Ch. I'll just send to my banker's for the money. In the mean time, we will adjourn to my library. I have been much puzzled with an obscure passage in Livy. We must lay our heads together for a solution. But I am sorry you are addicted to such absence of mind, at times.

Quiz. 'Tis a misfortune, sir; but I am addicted to a greater than that, at times.

Sir Ch. Ah! what's that?

Quiz. I am sometimes addicted to an absence of body. Sir Ch. As how?

Quiz.

walks off)

Why, thus, sir. (Takes up his hat and stick, and

Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! That's an absence of body, sure enough an absence of body with a vengeance! A queer fellow this. I doubt him. But we'll see more about it. (Exeunt.)

CLXXVIII.-THE GREEK REVOLUTION.

GREECE, having been, from 1453, subject to Turkey, in 1821 commenced her last and successful struggle for independence. In an early period of the war, the beautiful island of Scio was attacked by the Turks, and its population massacred or taken captive. A resolution was offered in the Congress of the United States, to recognize the Greek government. The following is an extract from one of the speeches on that resolution.

OUR object, at the present time, should be, to avail ourselves of the interesting occasion of the Greek revolution, to make our protest against the doctrines of the Allied Powers; both as they are laid down in principle, and as they are applied in practice.

The end and scope of these doctrines, is neither more nor less than this to interfere, by force, for any government, against any people who may resist it. Be the state of the people what it may, they shall not rise. Be the government what it will, it shall not be opposed. The practical commentary has corresponded with the plain language of the text. Look at Greece. A stronger case can never arise.

In four days, the fire and the sword of the Turk, rendered the beautiful Scio a clotted mass of blood and ashes. The details are too shocking to be recited. Forty thousand women and children, unhappily saved from the general destruction, were afterward sold in the market of Smyrna, and sold off into distant and hopeless servitude. Even on the wharves of our own cities, it has been said, have been sold the utensils of those hearths which now exist no longer.

Of the whole population which I have mentioned, not above nine hundred persons were left living upon the island. These tragical scenes were as fully known at the Congress of Verona, as they are now known to us. It is not too much to call on the powers that constituted that Congress, in the name of conscience, and in the name of humanity, to tell us if there be nothing even in these unparalleled excesses of Turkish barbarity, to excite a sentiment of compassion; nothing which they regard as so objectionable, as even the very idea of popular resistance to arbitrary power.

The

Is it proper for us, at all times, is it not our duty, at this time, to come forth, and deny, and condemn, these monstrous principles? Where, but here are they likely to be resisted? They are advancing with equal coolness and boldness; and they are supported by immense power. timid will shrink and give way, and many of the brave may be compelled to yield to force. Human liberty may yet, perhaps, be obliged to repose its principal hopes on the intelligence and vigor of the Saxon race. As far as depends on us, at least, I trust those hopes will not be disappointed.

I think it right, too, not to be unseasonable in the expression of our regard, and, as far as that goes, in a ministration of our consolation to a long oppressed and now struggling people. I am not of those who would in the hour of utmost peril, withhold such encouragement as might be properly and lawfully given, and when the crisis should be passed, overwhelm the rescued sufferer with kindness and caresses.

The Greeks address the civilized world with a pathos not

easy to be resisted. They invoke our favor by more moving considerations, than can well belong to the condition of any other people. They stretch out their arms to the Christian communities of the earth, beseeching them, by a generous recollection of their ancestors, by the consideration of their own desolated and ruined cities and villages, by their wives and children, sold into an accursed slavery, by their own blood, which they seem willing to pour out like water, by the common faith, and in the Name, which unites all Christians, that they would extend to them, at least, some token of compassionate regard.

FROM WEBSTER.

CLXXIX.-LIBERTY TO GREECE.

THE flag of freedom floats once more
Around the lofty Parthenon;

It waves as waved the palm of yore,
In days departed long and gone;

As bright a glory, from the skies,

Pours down its light around these towers,
And once again the Greeks arise,
As in their country's noblest hours:
Their swords are girt in virtue's cause,
Minerva's sacred hill is free.

O! may she keep her equal laws,
While man shall live, and time shall be.

The pride of all her shrines went down;
The Goth, the Frank, the Turk, had reft
The laurel from her civic crown;
Her helm by many a sword was cleft;
She lay among her ruins low;
Where grew the palm, the cypress rose;
And, crushed, and bruised by many a blow,
She cowered beneath her savage foes.
But now again she springs from earth,
Her loud, awakening trumpet speaks;
She rises in a brighter birth,

And sounds redemption to the Greeks.