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Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed !-(in great confua sion)-I meant Greek—did I say Latin? I really meant Greek. (Aside.)-Zounds! I don't know what I mean myself.

Sir Ch. Oh! Mr. Blackletter, 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. O 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 Celæno. I can't, for the blood of me, tell it.

Quiz. Aside) Zounds, 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,--was, -was, zounds, 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C.

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember—'twas Xanthus, XanthusI remember now—'twas Xanthus-plague o' the namethat's it.

Quiz. Egad! so'tis. "Thankus, Thankus”-that's itstrange I could not remember it. Aside)—'Twould have been stranger if I had.

Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, Mr. Blackletter. Quiz. Zounds! 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. I am glad you have found that out : (aside) 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 con. fused-I mean so confounded; pshaw! so much engrossed with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost forgot to give you a letter from your son.

Šir 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 'tis---(takes this letter and gives him another.)

Sir Ch. What, are you the bearer of love epistles, too, Mr. Blackletter? 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

Sir Ch. Truly she writes a good masculine fist. Well, let me see what my boy has to say.—(Reads.)

name.

Dear Father

There is a famous Greek manuscript just come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thousand dollars. Send me the money by the bearer."

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you in the true Lacedæmonian stylemlaconic. Well, the boy shall have it, were it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek manu. script ; 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.

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. Why thus sir-(Takes up his hat and stick and walks of

Śir Ch. Ha, ha ha—that's an absence of body, sure enough-an absence of body with a vengeance !-a very merry fellow this. He will be back for the money, I suppose, presently. He is at all events, a very modest man, not fond of expresing his opinion-but that's a mark of merit.

LX.STARLIGHT ON MARATHON.

Extract from the Poems of Robert Montgomery.

No vesper breeze is floating now,

No murmurs shake the air :
A gloom hath veil'd the mountain's brow,

And quietude is there;
The night-beads, on the dew-white grass,
Drop brilliant as my footsteps pass.

No hum of life disturbs the scene.

The clouds are rolled to rest ;
'Tis like a calm where grief hath been,

So welcome to the breast !
The warring tones of day have gone,
And starlight gleams on Marathon.

I look around from earth to sky,
And
gaze

from star to star ;
Till Grecian hosts seem gliding by,

Triumphant from the war:
Like sleepless spirits from the dead
Revisting where once they bled.

What, though the mounds that mark'd each name

Beneath the wings of Time
Have worn away,-theirs is the fame,

Immortal and sublime ;
For who can tread on Freedom's plain,
Nor wake her dead to life again?

Oh! to have seen the marching bands,

And hear the battle-clash,
Have seen their weapon-clenching bands,

And eyes' defiant flash,-
Their radiant shields and dancing crests,
And corslets on their swelling breasts.

Then said the mother to her son,

And pointed to his shield, “Come with it when the battle's done,

Or on it—from the field !" Then mute she glanced her fierce bright eye, That spoke of ages vanished by.

'Twas here they fought: and martial peals

Once thunder'd o'er the ground,
And gash and wound from plunging steels

Bedew'd the battle mound.
Here Grecians trod the Persian dead,
And freedom shouted, while she bled !

But gone the day of Freedom's sword,

And cold the patriot brave,
Who mow'd the dastard-minded horde

Unto a gory grave ;
While Greece arose sublimely free,
And dauntless as her own dark sea.

Still, starlight sheds the same pale beam

For aye upon the plain ;
And musing breasts might fondly dream

The Grecian free again ;
For empires fall, and freedom dies,
But dimless beauty robes the skies.

May AE whose glory gems the sky,

God of the slave and free!
Hear every patriot’s burning sigh

That's offered here for thee :
For thee, sad Greece! and every son
That braves a Turk on Marathon.

LXI.-THE CONDITION AND EFFECTS OF GUILT.

Extract from Mr. Curran's Speech in the case of Massey, against

Headfort. *

Gentlemen of the Jury,-Never, so clearly as in the present instance, have I observed that safeguard of justice which Providence has placed in the nature of man. Such is the imperious dominion with which truth and reason wave their sceptre over the human intellect, that no solicitation, however artful, no talent, however commanding, can reduce it from its allegiance.

You have seen it in the learned advocate, who has preceded me, most peculiarly and strikingly illustrated-you have seen even his great talents, perhaps the first in any country, lan. guishing under a cause too weak to carry him, and too heavy to be carried by him. He was forced to dismiss his natural candor and sincerity, and, having no merits in his case, to substitute the dignity of his own manner, the resources of his own ingenuity, over the overwhelming difficulties with which he was surrounded. Wretched client! Unhappy advocate ! What a combination do you form! But such is the condi. tion of guilt-its commission, mean and tremulous—its de. fence, artificial and insincere-its prosecution, candid and simple-its condemnation, dignified and austere. Such has been the defendant's guilt--such his defence-such shall be my address, and such, I trust, your verdict. The learned counsel has told you, that this unfortunate woman is not to be estimated at forty thousand pounds. Fatal and unquestiona. ble is the truth of this assertion. Alas! gentlemen, she is no longer worth any thing-faded, fallen, degraded and disgraced, she is worth less than nothing ! But it is for the honor, the hope, the expectation, the tenderness, and the comforts, that have been blasted by the defendant, and have

* This trial, which took place at Ennis, in Ireland, was one that ex. cited vast interest, from the character of the parties. The plaintiff, the Rev. Charles Massey, of Sommerhill, Ireland, was a clergyman of an eminently high character. The defendant was the Marquis of Head fort, an English Lord, of vast wealth, but of a most wicked and aban poned character.

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