SIR THOMAS OVERBURY. 363 out being tired. Our sight is on the alert when we travel; and its exercise is then so delightful that we forget the profit in the pleasure. Like a river that gathers, that refines as it runs, like a spring that takes its course through some rich vein of mineral, we improve and imperceptibly-nor in the head only, but in the heart. Our prejudices leave us one by one. Seas and mountains are no longer our boundaries. We learn to love, and esteem, and admire beyond them. Our benevolence extends itself with our knowledge. And must we not return better citizens than we went? For the more we become acquainted with the institutions of other countries, the more highly must we value our own. www 1. For what objects do the different classes of people travel to foreign countries? 2. Which is the noblest of all our senses? and why? LESSON CCLVIII. SEPTEMBER THE FIFTEENTH. Sir Thomas Overbury. On this day, in 1613, Sir Thomas Overbury was poisoned in the Tower, by the contrivance of the Countess of Essex, and Carr, afterwards Earl of Somerset, the despicable minion of James I. Sir Thomas's character is represented by Wildon in the following terms: "In this manner fell Sir Thomas Overbury, worthy of a longer life and a better fate; and, if I may compare private men with princes, like Germanicus Cæsar, both by poison procured by the malice of a woman, both about the thirty-third year of their age, and both celebrated for their skill and judgment in poetry, and for their wisdom. Overbury was a gentleman of an ancient family, but had some blemishes charged upon his character, either through a too great ambition, or the insolence of a haughty temper. "After the return from his travels, the Viscount Rochester embraced him with so entire a friendship, that, exercising by his majesty's special favour the office of secretary provisionally, he not only communicated to Sir Thomas the secrets, but many times gave him the letters unopened, before they had been perused by the king himself: which, as it prevailed too much upon his early years, so as to make him, in the opinion of some, thought high and ambitious, yet he was so far from violating his trust and confidence, that he remains now one example among others, who have suffered in their persons or their fortunes for a freedom of advice, which none but sincere friends will give, and many are such ill friends to themselves as not to receive." 1. Who was poisoned on this day, in 1613? 2. By whose contrivance was he poisoned? 3. What is the private character of Sir Thomas Overbury, as given by Wildon? LESSON CCLIX. SEPTEMBER THE SIXTEENTH. ECHOES reside, for the most part, in ruined abbeys, in caverns, and in grottoes: they reverberate among mountains, whisper in the areas of antique halls, in the windings of long passages, and in the melancholy aisles of arched cathedrals. There is an ancient portico near the temple of Clymenos, in the district of Cthonia, which repeats three times, on which account it is called "The Echo." At Woodstock there was one which returned seventeen syllables during the day, and twenty in the night. In the sepulchre of Metella, the wife of Crassus, an echo repeated five different times in five different keys; and Barthius, in his notes on Statius, relates, that on the banks of the Naha, between Bingen and Coblentz, an echo recited seventeen times. He who spoke or sung could scarcely be heard, and yet the responses were loud and distinct, clear and various; sometimes appearing to approach, at other times to come from a great distance, much after the manner of an Æolian harp. In the cemetery of the Abercorn family at Paisley, in the county of Renfrew, there is an echo exceedingly beautiful and romantic. When the door of the chapel is shut, the reverberations are equal to the sound of thunder. Breathe a single note in music, and the tone ascends gradually, with a multitude of echoes, till it dies in soft and most bewitching murmurs. If the effect of one instrument is delightful, that of several in concert is captivating, exciting the most tumultuous and rapturous sensations! In this chapel, lulled by etherial echoes, sleeps Margery, the daughter of Bruce, the wife of Wallace, and the mother of Robert, king of Scotland. A singular echo is heard in a grotto near Castle Comber in Ireland. No reverberation is observed till the listener is within fifteen or sixteen feet of the extremity of the grotto; at which place a most delightful echo enchants the ear. Does there exist any one who has not heard of the Eagle's Nest, near Mucross Abbey, on the banks of the Lake of Killarney? This celebrated rock sends forth the most fascinating repercussions. Sound a French or bugle horn, - echoes, equal to an hundred instruments, answer to the call! Report a single cannon, the loudest thunders reverberate from the rock, and die, in endless peals, along the distant mountains! The etherial music of the echo naturally recalls to our recollection Plato's elegant idea with respect to the harmonic movements of the planets, and which he terms the music of the spheres. This idea is not only elegant, but in all probability equally just. For, in observing the operative effects of movable bodies, we find that the flight of birds and of insects, the rushing of waters, indeed, every object that moves, produces some vibrative sound. Observing these effects, Archytas, Pythagoras, and Plato, conceived it to be impossible that bodies so large, and revolving in an orbit so extensive as the planets, should move their giant courses without some sensible repercussions: so that the heavens might be said to modulate, and to send forth that true harmony at which the deities themselves might be delighted to listen: - a harmony, as Maximus Tyrius observes, too transcendent for the imbecility of man, and the excellence of which etherial beings are alone capable of appreciating. beautifully does Shakspeare allude to this poetical idea in the scene where Lorenzo, in the "Merchant of Venice,” leads Jessica into the grove, and, after desiring Stephano to order music to be brought into the garden, accosts her after the following manner: — "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!— Creep in our ears;-soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica; look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, But in his motion, like an angel, sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. 1. Where are echoes most frequent ? How 2. What is said of the echo in the cemetery of the Abercorn family at Paisley? 3. What have you to observe on the "music of the spheres ?" LESSON CCLX. SEPTEMBER THE SEVENTEENTH. Reflections suggested by a Visit to the Lake of Lausanne. THE route from Geneva to Lausanne commands some fine prospects. On the left is a richly-wooded country, interspersed with villas and picturesque cottages; and on the right is an uninterrupted view of the lake. We visited to-day the spot so long the residence of Gibbon, when he gave to the world his admirable " History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," a work that, for research and depth of thought, whatever may be its blemishes, has rarely been equalled, and never surpassed. On loitering through the walks, so often paced by him, I was forcibly reminded of the passage in his common-place book which commemorates the completion of his arduous task,-a passage in which all must sympathize, and which brings the author before us. "It was on the day, or rather the night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berçeau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the water, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion; and that, whatsoever might be the future fate of my history, the life of the historian might be short and precarious." There is something in these reflections that appeals to the hearts of all; but they are still more touching when one stands on the spot where they were made. The country, the lake, the mountains, all remain as when he saw them, but he has passed away. We are but actors on the busy stage of life. The scenes of the drama remain unchanged; but the actors, after a brief stay, give place to others, to be in turn replaced. Happy are they who, when the curtain drops, can feel they have well played their parts, and leave behind them a name that dies not! If any ambition be excusable, it is that of wishing to leave a name that will endure. And all that genius, valour, or wisdom ever achieved, or dreamt of achieving, has had but this object for its incentive. 1. What is the title of the work for which the historian Gibbon is so celebrated? 2. At what time did Gibbon finish his " History;" and in what place? 3. Under what circumstances is ambition said to be excusable ? LESSON CCLXI. SEPTEMBER THE EIGHTEENTH. The Operations of Nature incessant. THOUGH Nature appears to suffer some of her works to decay, she is only varying her attitudes. Nothing is permitted actually to decay-matter, as well as spirit, existing to eternity; for in the dunghill of putrefaction are secreted the germs of future reproduction. Perpetual changes glide on in endless continuity; valleys rise to mountains, mountains sink to valleys; the ending of summer is the beginning of autumn, and in the lap of winter are concealed the embryos of spring. Ever attentive to her interests, Nature replaces in one spot what she has displaced in another:-ever attentive to beauty, and desirous of resolving all things into their original dependence on herself, she permits moss to creep over the fallen column, and ivy to wave upon the useless battlement. Time, with his gradual but incessant touch, withers the ivy and pulverizes the monument; but Nature, who conceives and executes at one and the same moment, whose every thought is a system, operating in an unlimited orbit, jealous of prerogative, and studious of her creations, expands with one hand what she compresses with another. Always diligent she loses nothing; she condenses only what she appears to lose. From the beginning of time, no one object, so created, has evaporated—not one atom, in the infinite divisibility of matter, has been lost :-not the minutest particle of what we denominate element, nor one deed, word, or thought of any of his creations have ever once escaped the knowledge, nor will ever escape the memory of the ETERNAL MIND! 1. Is there any limit to the duration of matter or spirit? 2. How does Nature operate ? 3. What is said of the ETERNAL MIND? |