land and refract all perceptions, feelings, and objects into beautiful outlines and hues. 4. It is the land of Antiquity, the school of History, the home of the Past. No time is recorded when Italy stood not foremost in the annals; a scene where great things were thought and wrought. Etruscan, Roman, Pontifical,-these civilizations have succeeded one another, and no later one has effaced vestiges of that which preceded it. All now dwell together; and the face of the land is a self-registering chroni cle of all that has been felt and done upon its surface. Here, under the calm, grave eye of the venerable Past, the Present moves modestly and with self-distrust. 5. Here you may stand in the religious presence of the Older Days, and imbibe a temper which is more than wisdom. The active, the stirring, the destructive we leave behind when we cross the mountains. Existence here is moral, consultative, intellectual. It seems like an Elysium, where life is fancied, and interests notional; the blissful future state of an existence gone by, where shadowy forms rehearse in silent show the deeds that once resounded, or elsewhere resound. It is a land where all is ruin; but where ruin itself is more splendid, more permanent, and more vital than the freshest perfections of other countries. WALLACE 2. Thus the stern Voice spake in triumph: And no sweetness of the night." 8. But the soft Voice answered calmly: I can dream the rest of Spring; And my cell has just one corner 4. But its bitter taunt repeating, Cried the harsh Voice: "Where are they, Who forget your name to-day? And alone, since loved no more." 5. But the low Voice spoke still lower: But I, grieving here alone, By the love within my own." 6. But the Voice cried: "Once remember To the welfare of your brethren, 7. "Nay;" and then the gentle answer I thank God that I am here! Has the strength of Love and Death." ADELAIDE A. PROCTOR. H' 40. THE SUBMARINE TELEGRAPH. ITHERTO there seems to have been above earth but little or no obstacle to the enterprise of man ; and yet he has often been balked in his attempts to pass from one land to another. In his panting impatience to communicate with his fellow-man wherever he might be found, or in obedience to that supreme law which commands him to go forth and people the earth, he has endeavored to track his way to its remotest regions-he has dived into the darkest of its valleys, and there groped his way amidst the stones of the torrent, to create a path beyond the chains of mountains that seemed to shut him in. 2. He has climbed as high as it was possible for all his breathless vigor to bear him, until at length he has come to the snow-built pyramids on the summit of the mountain or the impassable glacier; and then he has turned its flank, and with wonderful perseverance has made his way into the opposite region. But who ever thought till now of at once plunging into the very depths of the ocean, without the power of seeing a single step beyond him; almost beyond the power of the fathoming-line to reach, to a depth, as we have been told, as great as the height of the highest mountains explored but by a few individuals? And there he has ventured to trace his path, and has traced it without deviation, and without yielding to any, however formidable, obstacles. 3. He has made that path bury itself deep into the very undermost of the valleys of that unseen region; he has made it to ascend its steepest precipices-to cross its highest mount-. ains-to pass down again; till thus by an effort of perseverance, the like of which the world has never witnessed, the two continents have been moored safe to one another-moored so safe by this little metallic hawser, as no other power, no amount of "inky blots and rotten parchment bonds," or protocols of treaties, could ever have done. 4. And what is the result of this mighty work? Why, the Greek used to boast of his fire, which would burn under the sea, and which, attached to the keel of a ship, would destroy it in the midst of the sea; and we know how the power of electricity has been similarly employed to explode mines high into the air and cause the sacrifice of hundreds of human lives. 5. But this little spark which we are now sending under the ocean-this flash of lightning which passes from shore to shore-this fire which burns inextinguishable below the depths of the mighty waters, may truly be considered, if it were not too sacred an expression to use-to be the flame of that love and of that charity between the two nations of which the sacred text says, that "many waters shall not extinguish it, and floods shall not overwhelm it." Yes; I have no hesitation in saying, that it is time now for the American eagle to let go those lightnings which it is represented as grasping in its talons, and let them drop into the ocean, and they will cross it safely and come to us, not accompanied with any roar of thunder, but murmuring the words of softest peace. CARDINAL WISEMAN. I 41. THE HUMAN VOICE. GRIEVE to say it, but our people, I think, have not generally agreeable voices. The marrowy organisms, with skins that shed water like the backs of ducks, with smooth surfaces neatly padded beneath, and velvet linings to their singing-pipes, are not so common among us as that other pattern of humanity with angular outlines and plain surfaces, arid integuments, hair like the fibrous covering of a cocoanut in gloss and suppleness as well as color, and voices at once thin and strenuous,-acidulous enough to produce effervescence with alkalis, and stridulous enough to sing duets with the katydids. 2. I think our conversational soprano, as sometimes overheard in the cars, arising from a group of young persons, who may have taken the train at one of our great industrial centres, for instance,-young persons of the female sex, we will say, who have bustled in full-dressed, engaged in loud strident speech, and who, after free discussion, have fixed on two or more double seats, which having secured, they proceed to eat apples and hand round daguerreotypes,-I say, I think the conversational soprano, heard under these circumstances, would not be among the allurements the old enemy would put in requisition, were he getting up a new temptation of St. Anthony. 3. There are sweet voices among us, we all know, and voices not musical, it may be, to those who hear them for the first time, yet sweeter to us than any we shall hear until we listen to some warbling angel in the overture to that eternity of blissful harmonies we hope to enjoy. But why should I |