Julius, whose memory fondly dwells on the charms of Porcia, returns to Pompeii, where she soon after became his wife. The escape of the Vestal had been discovered, and her mother, Farella, had been imprisoned, and was threatened with death in the amphitheatre, if she was not found before an appointed day. The filial piety of Lucilla induces her, on receiving the sad intelligence, to fly to Pompeii, to save her aged parent, and she is then thrown into prison. Lucius, from whom she had concealed her intention, on discovering her flight, follows. Meantime the terrific thunderings of Vesuvius begin to be heard. Preparations, however, continue to be made for the approaching exhibition at the amphitheatre.

The morning of that eventful day at length appeared. Calm, and bright, and beautiful, the sun arose in a cloudless sky. Vesuvius, too, seemed to be reposing after her fearful displays of the preceding day. A thin column of smoke alone was seen rising perpendicularly from the yawning crater, till high in the air it gradually spread in a horizontal direction, overhanging the steady column that was perpetually rising, like the spreading foliage of some colossal tree. Long before this hour, the streets and every avenue to the city were crowded with those about to become spectators of the cruel sport of the day. All seemed gay and smiling and happy. Again the preparatory crowding and jostling took place the streets were again filled with beasts, and men, and women; cars, chariots, and wagons containing the beasts for exhibition; laughing and railing, oaths, invocations, yells, and growls-in short, all the noise and confusion of a city like Pompeii, previous to such exhibitions.

'Gradually the smoke rose denser and blacker from the crater. An unnatural stillness seemed to reign over everything but man. The waters of the Sarnus and the bay slept without ripple or wave. Every leaf upon every tree hung motionless. The very shouts that were occasionally heard, were repeated and re-echoed along the motionless air for minutes after the sound had ceased, seeming as if every particular voice were caught up and repeated in mockery by a thousand others. When the sullen roar of Vesuvius was growled forth, the repetitions and reverberations were painful and deafening. Gradually the soft blue sky changed to a sullen, coppery hue, as it was seen through the fast increasing smoke. The sun, shorn of his beams, hung like a disk of copper in the frightfully serene heavens. The flashes of the mountain became more frequent and more vivid, shedding at the same time over every object a glare of such ghastly light as to induce the idea that light itself had perished, and that this

staring glare was but the color of its corpse. A darker and a darker gloom settled every moment over the horror-struck city. In the amphitheatre it became unnecessary to wait till night should bring darkness for their torch-light hunt. Still the games went on. What mattered it to the dying gladiator, whether he fell amid the sickness of nature or under the calm blue sky? What mattered it to the ravenous beast or to the martyred Christian? That light cheered not the eye of the dead-it added not to the torture of the beast the sight of the demon man-nor did it hide the Christian from the eye of his God.

'A sort of sepulchral twilight was all that remained. The crowd for the most part was now seen traversing the city with their valuables in their hands, to save themselves from the terrible and unknown danger. Nothing was heard in the street save the heavy, incessant tramp of feet-and an occasional call of some mother upon a loitering child—a sister to a brother—a husband to a wife-a child to a parent.'-pp. 172–4.

The prisoners are at length released by the terrified jailer; but, in attempting to leave the devoted place, are soon buried beneath a shower of stones, ashes, and other substances, which choked up the streets, and caused the city to disappear from the surface of the earth.

Such is a general outline of the tale. Two or three episodes, occur in the course of the narrative, quite pretty and imaginative. The author excels in light and graceful description. He has a lively fancy, and gives evidence of possessing a cultiva-ted understanding and refined taste. His words are in general well chosen, and his style simple and unaffected.

The moral character of the work is of the purest kind. The tender and social affections particularly, are represented in all their truth and beauty, and have the effect of throwing a peculiar charm over many parts of the narrative.

The production is not without blemishes, but these are such as will be easily overlooked. The writer has a few favorite terms and phrases, which, he is a little too fond of repeating. In one or two instances he has put sentiments into the mouths of Christians, not quite in unison with the mode of thinking of the time. And the story of the priest, on the thirty fourth page, is told, we think,-possibly, however, we may be a little fastidious, in language not exactly corresponding with the tone of refined delicacy, which pervades the other parts of the tale. We think we have evidence that the author is a young writer.

VOL. IX.-N. S. VOL. IV. NO. II.

28

If so, the work affords very pleasing promise. We have been truly gratified with its perusal, and hope the author may be induced to continue his efforts.

ART. VI.-1. An Oration delivered at Cambridge, before the Society of Phi Beta Kappa, Aug. 26. By the Rev. ORVILLE DEWEY. Boston. Gray & Bowen, 1830. 8vo. pp. 32.

2. The Age of Print. A Poem delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, 26 August, 1830. By GRENVILLE MELLEN. Boston. Carter & Hendee, 1830. 8vo. pp. 40.

THE anniversary ofthe society, before which the above performances were delivered, stands at the head of our literary celebrations. The lovers of eloquence and poetry generally anticipate a rich entertainment, and have almost uniformly been gratified. Gentlemen distinguished for their genius and attainments, have been selected to celebrate the occasion, and their efforts have done honor to the society and themselves.

The moral purposes to which this occasion may be made subservient, are of high value. It is attended generally by a large assembly of the most accomplished and intelligent portion of our community, and not unfrequently by distinguished visiters from distant parts of the country. The animation and excitement of a literary festival, during which the cares of professional and active life are laid aside; the rivalries of politics forgotten; the dreams of ambition dissipated; the friendships of former days, already fading dimly from the memory, again restored; classic associations, half obliterated by the throng of busy and anxious and tumultuous projects, brought back, like coins recast at the mint, to their original brightness; the warm and generous enthusiasm of unblighted youth rekindled-the animation and excitement of such an occasion, open the heart to the reception of the loftiest and noblest principles, which, if worthily inculcated, must sink deep, and exert an influence no less beneficial than permanent. High-toned sentiments and eloquent expositions of truth, whether in morals or literature, have uniformly been received with enthusiastic applause. Judging of public taste by such an index, we should consider it very

high, and in a state of constant improvement. The want of some safe public amusement, gives an increased value to every celebration of this kind. The theatre, which is the universal resort for entertainment in Europe, is so far degraded in this country, either from the want of sufficient patronage among the respectable and influential members of society, or from some inherent inaptitude in our countrymen for dramatic amusements, that we should as soon think of recommending the pesthouse for a residence, as the theatre for a public resort. In ancient Greece, the drama was cultivated by the best minds in a nation unrivalled for intellectual glory. The sublimity of the Prometheus,-the patriotic associations aroused by the soldier-poet in the Persians, the dreadful visitations of the gods upon a land stained with blood, in Edipus-the awful manner in which that crime was expiated, in Edipus Colonos-the majestic virtue of a Grecian heroine, braving a tyrant's wrath and defying a threatened death, that her unhappy brother might enjoy the supposed privileges of sepulture, in Antigone-these, with others not surpassed by them, were the usual treat served up for an Attic audience. With few exceptions, the theatre then taught the best morality that was known. In France, faulty, cold, and constrained as theatrical literature has generally been, immorality is the last offence that can be laid to its charge. Corneille, Racine, and even the prince of scoffers, Voltaire, are uniformly respectful to the moral and religious sense of a cultivated nation; and the ingenious comedy of that unrivalled wit, Moliere, subserves effectually the cause of virtue and morality. The labors of Goethe, Schiller, and others, have raised, in some cases, the German theatre to a degree of purity and excellence which other nations, on comparison with their own, might well envy. The theatre of Weimar, while under the care of the patriarch of German literature, and adorned by such productions as Mary Stuart, the Maid of Orleans, Wallenstein, Don Carlos, the Bride of Messina, Egmont, Tasso, Iphigenia, &c., might justly be considered a school of refinement and taste. But among us, it is scarcely possible to attend the theatre a single evening, and not be insulted, either in the principal piece, or in some farcical afterpiece, with expressions or allusions so grossly indecent, that a lady of refined sensibility, it seems to us, would never expose herself to their contamination a second time.

It is on this account that we rejoice to find this anniversary made an occasion for inculcating correct principles. The oration of Mr Dewey, which we have placed at the head of the present article, gave great satisfaction at the time of its delivery, and the public have reason to thank him for submitting it to the press. He maintains with eloquence and ingenuity, a doctrine which the current of popular feeling is carrying, we fear, rapidly into disrepute. We will quote his own words.

What is the true science, the rationale, if I may say so, of thorough improvement and refinement? What are the true means of spreading at once wealth and beauty over the paths of literary labor?

'From the wide range of discussion which this question opens to us, I shall select two views, two principles of intellectual culture--this is my general subject)-the one practical, the other theoretical; both of which derive urgent claims to attention, as I think, from the character of the literature that is prevalent at the present day, and from the state of our own little republic of letters. My practical principle is, that the loftiest attainments of the mind in every sphere of its exertion, are immediately—much as the original tendency or temperament may vary-are immediately the fruit of nothing but the deepest study; that, for instance, the great poet and the great artist, as well as the profound metaphysician or astronomer, is by nothing more distinguished than by this thorough and patient application; that natural genius, as it is called, appears in nothing else, and is nothing else, but the power of application; that there is no great excellence without great labor; that the inspirations of the muse are as truly studies, as the lucubrations of philosophy. In other words, it is the deepest soil that yields not only the richest fruits, but the fairest flowers; it is the most solid body which is not only the most useful, but which admits of the highest polish and brilliancy; it is the strongest pinion, which not only can carry the greatest burden, but which soars to the loftiest flight.

'That the most intense study is necessary to the loftiest attainments in every department, whether of philosophy or poetry, of science or imagination, of reality or fiction, of judgment or taste, would perhaps be best made to appear, by showing the strict and close connexion there is between them; and that there is such a connexion is indeed my theoretical principle.'-pp. 3, 4.

The tendency of present systems in education we agree with Mr Dewey in thinking decidedly hostile to profound attainments. A standard of utility, falsely so called, has become the rallying