......THIS Ranz des Vaches at once awaked his blooming childhood, and she arose out of the morning dew and out of her bower of rosebuds and slumbering flowers, and stepped before him in heavenly beauty, and smiled innocently and with her thousand hopes upon him, and said, "Look at me-how beautiful I am! We used to play together. I formerly gave thee many things-great riches, gay meadows, and bright gold, and a fair long paradise behind the mountains; but now thou hast nothing of all this left-and how pale thou art! Oh play

with me again!"

Before which of us has not childhood been a thousand times called up by music? and to which of us has she not spoken, and asked-" Are the rosebuds which I gave thee not yet blown?" Alas! blown indeed they are-but they were pale, whit

roses.

Jean Paul.

SHAME is a feeling of profanation. Friendship, love and piety, ought to be handled with a sort of mysterious secrecy; they ought to be spoken of only in the rare moments of perfect confidence to be mutually understood in silence. Many things are too delicate to be thought-many more, to be spoken.

Novalis.

Extract from a Discourse on the Advantage of Dialects in the Greek Language, spoken at Munich, October 12th, 1808.

THE land of ancient Greece has indeed utterly deserted those boundaries which formerly encircled its free and intelligent inhabitants. The life of the most vivacious and active of all people is extinct. Her cities, once the resort of high and unequalled virtues, the worthy abode of gods, the rich garden of every art, are sunk into melancholy villages, in which an ignorant and needy people heedlessly build their hovels on the ruins of antiquity, without any reverential sentiment—almost without any recollection of the heroic times of which those stones yet bear witness. The ancient streams, some of which still retain their former names, glide mournfully through a desert country; the gods who dwelt on their banks and in their grottos, have departed from them, and the wondrous songs which recounted the story of every fount and hill and grove, to the ears of a free and susceptible people, are all hushed.

Their strong and manly, their tender and graceful language survives only in a faint and melancholy dissonance. But what that ancient land and her degenerate inhabitants no longer afford, the memory of the days of her glory still affords in rich abundance. Still do the deeds of Grecian antiquity live in all hearts; still are the remains of her art the

joy of the world, the possession of them the pride of the conqueror; still do the noblest minds drink from the exhaustless fountains of her science; still are congenial spirits enkindled at the flame of her genius and as of yore her pious sons sought instruction and comfort at the sanctuary of her oracles, so does every noble mind, whose aspirations the present fails to satisfy, seek comfort and tranquillity in the calm asylum of Hellenic wisdom. Here does her language still bloom in the immortal charms of its youthful and manly beauty; and as the spirit of Grecian antiquity reigns over the whole domain of modern art and science, so does her language breathe over us an air of higher and more finished perfection. Wheresoever this vivifying breath has been felt, it has elevated all minds, has unfolded the blossoms of beauty and ennobled the tones of language.

Fr. Jacobs.

ROMAN ART.

As the whole collective history of civilized man (with the exception of India) was now concentred in Rome, so likewise was that of Art. But this was solely the result of the political supremacy of Rome, not of her artistical talent. The Romans, although intimately allied to the Greeks, were made of a sterner, harder and less finely-organized stuff. Their minds

were constantly turned toward those external relations of men by which their actions are generally regulated and determined (or, as we should say, to practical life); at first, more to those which regard the community (i. e. the political); afterwards, when freedom had perished, to those which concern individuals in their intercourse with each other, and especially to those grounded on the relation of men to worldly possessions. To maintain, to increase, to secure the res familiaris, was nowhere regarded so strongly in the light of a duty as here. The careless ease, the playful freedom of mind which, abandoning itself absolutely to internal impulses, gives birth to the arts, was a stranger to the Romans. Religion too, in Greece the mother of art, was, among the Romans, both in her earlier form of an emanation from Etruscan discipline, and in her later, when the deification of ethico-political ideas prevailed, systematically practical. This practical spirit was however connected in the Romans with a grandeur of mind which contemned everything petty and halfformed, which met all the necessities of life by vast and effective undertakings, and hence maintained the glory of at least one of the arts - Architecture.

Ottfried Müller. (Handbuch der Archäologie.)

......I KNOW not whether deluding spirits haunt this spot, or if it be only my own warm and bright fancy that gives every thing around me the hue of paradise. Just before me is a fountain, to which I am spell-bound, like Melusina and her sisters. You go down a little hill and find yourself in front of an arch, to which you descend by about twenty steps, and there a spring of the most limpid water gushes out from between marble rocks. The low wall which forms its enclosure, the high trees that overshadow it, the coolness of the place,—all conspire to give it the captivation and the solemnity of enchanted ground. Not a day passes in which I do not sit there an hour. Thither come the maidens of the town to fetch water-the most innocent of occupations, and the most necessary- —once the employment of kings' daughters. As I sit there, the images of patriarchal manners live and move before me. The venerable fathers of the race meet and converse, woo and give in marriage, and every fount and rill is the haunt of beneficent spirits.

He who cannot sympathize with me can never have known what it is to sit by the cool and gushing waters, after the toilsome wanderings of a summer's day.

Goethe. (Leiden des jungen Werthers.)