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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