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PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY.
VOLUME r.
gtotn;.
Athens, Ga., a Hundred Years Hence.
[A HYPERBOLIC AND IMPROBABLE TISIOX.J
I see within the mystic glass
The march of ages, showing
A city that with rapid pace
To wealth and strength is growing;
A giant city, springing up,
With nought on earth to bound it,
Whose iron pulse throbs high with hope
Amid the world around it;
Tts brow with all that nature hath,
In grandest garlands gleaming,
And Science strewing thick its path,
With gifts of priceless seeming.
The Iron Horse that threads its streets,
Drags millions td its coffers,
Till monarchs tremble in their seats,
To lose its golden offers.
The inland rivers rushing down,
By mountain glade and palace,
Bring commerce’s gifts while health’s
sweet crown
Fills up the golden chalice.
Its sons though mapped in nature’s chart
Os high, chivalric moulding,
Have yet the woman’s trusting heart,
With grace the man upholding.
Its daughters bred in easy rest,
Though tenderest frames inherit,
Have yet innnred within each breast,
The Roman matron’s spirit.
With Life and Hope to hurry on
Its throngs to deathless glory,
The world shall love thro'centuries gone,
To read its brilliant story,
i op jSira -siMCK t*. tiS'hixt* *ry 'S’page
With gems of rarest order,
As Genius leaps beyond its age,
O’er Time’s last reaching border.
Phitz.
Greenville , Ga., May , 1870.
Dr. Lipscomb’s Letter from Europe.
“ THE CITY IN THE SEA.”
Hotel Luna, Venice, Italy, )
January 31, 1868. j
Students of the Senior Class:
Gentlemen—lt is quite easy to feel
romantic In Venice. So many pictu
ring pens have described this won"
dcrful city, that mine suroly ought to
catch from them somewhat of a
graphic power. But just uow, I fear
that neither the romantic air which
one breathes in this city of the wa
ters, nor the inspiration of poets,
historians and philosophers who have
tested the art of language in setting
forth its charms, will rouse me from
the lethargy of a head-ache in a suffi
cient degree to give you the vivid
idea of Venice that tosday’s sunshine
lus photographed upon my brain.
The- geographies and the guide
books and all other records are unans
imous in saying that Venice stands
on a bay near the Gulf of Venice
And certainly these great rows < f
houses, these aspiring domes, these
square towers in their variegated co
lors, must rest on something very so
lid. But where the something is,
CLIMBINC THE HEICHTS.
ATHENS, GEORGIA, MAYM4, 1870.
oertainly does not appear to the eye,
for all Venice, from St. Marks and
ihe Doge’s Pulaee down to the Or
ange Woman’s Hall, seems to float
like a garden of water lilies on a
beautiful lake. ■-
Passing out of the archway of the
depot, we took a water omnibus,
(which is nothing more than a gon
dola) for conveyance to a hotel. In
the centre of the omnibus, was a small
cabin, very black outside, very cosy
within, only rather low for tall men
with tall hats. Off we moved, and
on we glided—the canal alive with
boats, each with its prow curving
high and looking very like a game
rooster’s comb—almost every mo
ment a threatened collision, which a
dexterous touch of the car avoided—
gondoliers very noisy gondolas
skimming lightly over the water and
turning the corners of the water
streets with easy grace—now into
narrow lanes with high and compact
blocks of buildings close on either
side, and then out into wider chan*
nels —until we reached the wharf
steps of Hotel Luna. After the usual
profusion of hows in which caps and
hats vied with ehCTf other
ulations diverse, original and innu
merable, wo went up several flights
of marble stairs until we entered
Room 44, in this Moon of Venice.
The apartment was quite beautiful,
especially the fresco of the coiling—
very especially the handsome young
man and young woman standing un
der a tree, which would have remind
ed me of Romeo and Juliet if it
hadn’t been for the cabbage garden
and wash-tub in Verona.
After breakfast next morning, we
took a guide. He spoke English flu
ently. I examined bis legs very cri
tically, remembering the disasters of
Verond. It seemed best however, to
be on the safe side, and so I engaged
him by the hour.
We went to St. Mark’s Cathedral.
It is more in the style of a Mosque
than of a Church ; length of nave,
243 teet —transept, 200 feet; height
of centre dome, 92 feet; the other
four domes each 81 feet, with 600
pillars outside and inside. Over the
front entrance, are the famous
“Bronze Horses,” which at ODe time
were in Constantinople, at another in
Paris, but in 1815, were restored to
Venice. The whole building is pro
fusely ornamented and the mosaic
ceilings, arch after arch of pictures,
are too gorgeous for description.—
But amid it all, I was inexpressibly
sad and it was a relief to get away.
I like architecture and embellish-
ments that are appropriate
and thoroughly designative, not one
of which could I see in this magnifi
cent pile.
Next to it, stands the old wonder
Venice, the Doge’s Palace. We as
conded the Giant’s Staircase, a grand
work, at the head of which, are the
celebrated statues of Mars and Nep
tune. After walking around the Ar
cade, we went to the Library Hall,
which thrilled me with wonder by
its size and splendor. It is 176 feet
long ; 85 feet broad; 52 feet high,
and crowded with paintings that are
masterpieces of art. One of these
paintings, by Tintoretto, is 84 feet
in width and 33£ feet in height, and
is called the Glory of Paradise. And
then from room to room, each adorn
ed with great workß of genius:—the
fame of Titian, Tintoretto and Paul
Veronese living on the walls, and the
exquisite drawing and coloring as
fresh as though just executed. Ex
cept for the feeling that the world
has now no such genius, I should not
have been conscious of the past in the
survey of these Halls. And this illu
sio Ups the present, is aided i by the
look of the platforms, thejtnßune,
the seats, the carving and gilding—
all unworn. Yet three centuries ago
and still further back, these gorgeous
chambers witnessed the transactions
of affairs of State.
Out from these whither? Down
dark and narrow stone stairways,
winding gloomily around and then
stretching *>n between close walls,
your dull and heavy steps hardly
disturbing tho silence, and your dim
taper hardly disturbing the thick
midnight, into the cells where pris
oners lay and then to the spot where
they were strangled—and back again
and up until you emerge upon the
memorable “ Bridge of Sighs.” And
this brought the past fearfully back,
and I could have lost myself in its
shadows had they not been the sha
dows of death in their most frightful
foim. No where else on earth do
such extremes of thought and emo
tion meet as directly suggested by
contiguity of'objects. You have the
most remarkable productions of Art
—painting and sculpture never sur
passed —frescoes that have converted
blank walls into classical wonders—
historical events of prime significance
in the progress of the world re-enac
ted on canvass that adds anew intes
rest to the occurrences themselves,
and doubles their claims on immor
tality— vast collections of books and
manuscripts, some of them exceedc
ingly rare—ancient marbles from
TERMS---$2.50 PER ANNUM.
NUMBER 7.
Greece and Rome—and yet, side by
side the terrible memorials of human
guilt and human sorrow, just as they
were hundreds of years since—your
very voice partaking of the shudder
of the place and your footsteps muf
fled as though in the immediate pre*»
sence of death, and the air and light
of heaven faintly struggling in as
though alien to the spot.
Out again into the open world !
And once more, free breathing and
cheerful scenes. ' The large Piazza or
square was full of people and of every
class of people—beggars in abuns
dance and beggars in perfection, who
could distort themselves in more at
titudes and throw more beseeching
expressions into their faces than I
ever imagined possible in the copious
language of signs; street-oratory
running to waste; and then gay
groups that chatted and laughed as
if life had never been otber than a
holiday—here a Turk in his turban,
and there a sailor with bis usual un
concerned and independent air; the
laboring women with a short pole
bending over the shoulder and cop-
J>er cans of water swinging from each
en(ffnoify jpedfars that folio
and pressed you, and wouldn't be put
off by any sort of decent refusal; and
mingled with all, soldiers anelpriegls,
prominent figures every where in
Italy. After all the brilliant mosaics
1 had just seen, i beheld here a liv-i
ing mosaic never equalled and never
to be imitated. And all around it,
reaching high over head, what a wall
of splendor rose! On two of the
sides of the open space are regular
buildings with arcades and filled with
small but dazzling stores, reading
rooms, caffes and offices; and on the
other fronts are tall and elegant edi
fices—the entire architecture in its
length of line and numerous openings
with their graceful curves, present
ing an aspect more fresh and uniform
than is usually seen ia Venice. Here,
too, stands the Campanile or Bdll
Tower, 320 feet high, with statues
around its base and a pyramid at its
top, and when at particular periods,
the watchman strikes the bell, the
animated scene is still further enli
vened. And just opposite is the
Clock Tower, the two upper stories
decorated with tho Virgin in gilt
bronze, and the Lion of St. Mark—
the whole surmounted by a bell ,and
two figures that strike the hours. At
2 o’clock, a large band of music per
formed ; and at the same hour, the
pigeons gathered here to be fed—
some say at the expense of the gov
ernment, while others assert that it
