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(□“Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors
or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on
the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours
of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three inthe Af
ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which
the Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must
be given in a public gazette sixty days previous
to the day of sale
□“Sales of Negroes by Administators, Execu
tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on,
the first Tuesday inthe month, between the legal
hours of sale, before the Court House of the county
where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration
oir Guardianship may have been granted, first giv
ing notice thcTeoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub
lic gazettes of this State, and at the door of the
Court House where such sales are to be held.
□* Notice for the sale of Personal Property must
be given in like manner forty days previous to
the day of sale.
to the Debtors and Creditors olan Es
tate must be published for forty days.
that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne
groes must be published in a public gazette in this
H.ate for four mouths, before any order absolute
can be given by the Court.
J-Citatioss for Letters of Administration on
an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary,must
be published thirty and ays -for Letters of Dismis
sion from the adinimstrationofan Estate, monthly
for six months —for Dismission from Guardian-;
ship forty days.
ij-Rui.rs for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,
must be published monthly for roun months —
fi- establishing lost Papers, for the full space of
th ike months —for co ripell l ng Titles from E\-
c if >rs, Administrators or others, where a Bond
hai b-in given by the deceased, the full space of
three months.
V I \ll Business of this kind shall receiv
prn not ittentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM
<• fi •«, al l s rict care will he taken that all legal
\lvir ise nents are published according to Law.
H T 'll Letters directed to this Office or the
Editor on business, mus be fost-paid, to in
sure it ens "O
o~t r n .
The Thriving Family—A Song.
BY MRS. SIGOUIiNF.Y.
Our father lives in Washington,
And has a world of cares,
But gives his children each a farm,
Enough for them and theirs.
Full thirty well grown sons has lie—
A numerous race indeed—
Married and settled all, d’ye see,
With boys and girls to feed.
So if we wisely till our lands,
We’re sure to earn a living.
And have a penny too to spare
For spending or for giving.
A thriving family are we.
No lordling need deride us;
Fur we know bow to use our bands,
And in our wits we pride us.
Hail, brothers, hail !
Let nought on earth divide ns.
Some of us dare the sharp northeast [
Some clover fields are mowing ;
Arid others tend the cotton plants
That keep the looms a-going;
Some build and steer the white-wing'd ships
And few in speed Can mate them ;
While others rear the corn and wheat,
Or grind the corn to freight them.
And if our neighbors o'er the sea
Have e’er an empty larder,
To send a loaf their babes to cheer
We'li work a little harder.
No old nobility have we,
No tyrant king to ride us ;
Our sages in the Capitol
Enact the laws that guide us.
Hail, brothers, bail !
Let nought on earth divide us.
Some faults we have, we can't deny—
A foible here and there ;
But other households have the same,
And so we won’t despair.
’Twill do no good to fume and frown,
And call hard names, you see,
And what a shame t’would be to part
So fine a family !
’Tis but a waste of time to fret,
Since nature made us one,
For every quarrel cuts a thread
That healthful love, lias spun.
Then draw tl e cords of union fast, ,
Whatever may betide ns,
And closer cling through every blast,
For many a storm lias tried us.
Hail, brothers, bail !
Let nought on earth divide us.
HOPE.
* »e world may change from old to new
tun,, „,. w .
Vr n,l< * heaven, forever true,
n nn man’s heart remain.
*e reams i| m t bless the weary soul,
ie strugg| sis of the strong,
re s < ps towards some happy goal,
11,6 s or > oT llopa’s song ’
'S!' *he child to plant the flower,
i m * n M,w ,h « *•>'•<*;
r eaves fulfilment to her hour,
» ! 11 P r ‘ ~nP *s again to deed.
Ti ere,, P on the old man’s dust
Ur Br,*ss8 r, *ss is seen to wave,
it , * lr "Ugh fallen tears—to trust
P c s sunshine on the grave.
n °c '* * no Haltering lure,
No fancy, weak or fond,
en mpe would bid us rest secure
Nn l et,er Ida beyond.
'f oss nor shame, nor grief nor sin,
r promise mnv gainsay ;
And r e Pa V j n ° ,ln! “P oke 'vithin,
ttd God did no’or betray.
THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM.
BY W M. B. HARRISON.
From Godty's Lady's Book for April.
FALLING IN LOVE.
A Bundle of oilier People’s Experiences.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
I have often thought that a very inter
esting and curious magazine-article might
be written by someone possessing more
knowledege both of the affairs of the heart
and the way ■of the world than myse f,
on the strange influences that bring about
and the different circumstances which at
tend that impressing of the heart and ar
resting of the fancy called falling in love.
The grand drama of the heart, though it
ton frequently has a tragical finale, has
most often a comical beginning; this di
vine sentiment is inclined to be excessive
ly merry in its y uih, hough it grows se
rious and terribly in earnest irt after time;
this mighty power which rtlles a world
that fears while it adores-4-thia Napoleon
of the passions h4s a rich &nd of humoi
and hosts of odd whims and fancies under
his imperial a rogance and tyranny.
Title, deep, devoted love is a destiny,
and therefore something awful as well as
beautiful, yet there are many times cir
cumstances waiting on its first revelation
amusing and even ludicrous in their na
ture; and'here are few, through what
ever great deeps they may have passed,
who can look back without a smile to that
hour when they first felt in their startled
hearts the awakening of emotions new and
incomprehensible, yet strong as heaven.
With a few examples intended to illus
trate the “ little corporal’s” novel plans
for the surprise of the heart, which have
mos ly been related tome by the pa ties
especially concerned, I hope to amuse my
readers for twenty minutes or so. I will
begin with one where it was literally fall
ing in love.
My friend Fanny Weston was a light
hearted, brilliant-looking, though not de
cidedly handsome \ oung Kentuckian, who,
having lost her parents, was brought north
by hei guardian and placed under the
care of an uncle in Albany, for the sake
of attending one of the excellen semina
ries of that good ' Id Dutch city.
Fanny was distinguished in the large
school in which she became a pupil, for
her fine talent, wit and spirit, and loved
for her gay, merry nature and genuine
kindness of heart. She was generous and
brave enough to become the voluntary
champion of the poor and ill-used girls
against overbearing teachers and vulgarly
aristocratic pupils—for some of such, it
seems, must darken the little sunshine of
every school. To be brief, our heroine
was a fine, cheerful, natural, truthful girl,
whose person and manner were full ot
cbaiacter. I liked her well from our first
meeting.
It chanced that one winter morning, as
Fanny sat out from her uncle’s handsome
residence for school, she found the walk
ing most perilously slippery. It had rain
ed in torrents and then frozen hard, the
nigh' before, and left all the way and eve
ry liing covered and glittering with ice.
The level sidewalk was like glass, and pe
destrian sifter pedestrian measured his
length upon the treacherous flags —a moat
involuntary measure—cutting strange ca
pers in the air as he went down Now,
our Fanny had a quick eye fm the ludic
rous, and an aim st wicked enjoyment of
the small rnis'ortunes of others when they
had any ridiculous points about them ; s
she laughed like a little “trickeyelf’ at
the sudden downfall and hurried up strug
gle of slim youth and burly citizen, as she
picked her dainty way school ward that
frosty winter morning—utterly careless
meanwhile, believing herself as agile and
sure-footed as a wild chamois on its na
tive hills.
A length her attention became absorb
ed in the progress of an individual, behind
whom she waked for a considerable dis
tance. This was an antiquated exquisite,
consequential and corpulent to an impos
ing degree, with a gait half swagger, half
roll. Fanny watched his course eagerly,
almost impatiently, actually holding her
brea h for the catastrophe which she felt
must be the inevitable ill which so much
flesh was heir to. It came at las —“ and
what a fall was tiere !” It shook all the
glass in front of hotel - upon my
wold it did ! Then that mischievous gip
sy with whom we have todo, stopped sho t
and gave a scream of merriment, throwing
haci her head, as was her habit when she
laughed heartily. As she did so, her feet
slid fr m under her, and vainly flinging up
her arms to save herself, she fell back
ward -but not to the ground! No—
strong, manly arms caught her, and she
looked up to see a handsome, smiling face,
bending over her, and to hear, as she was
lifted to her feet, a pleasant voice say, in
a rather serious tone—“ My dear young
lady, never laugh at the misfortunes of
others."
With painful blushes, Fanny stammer
ed out her hanks to the kind stranger, and
went her way, but not before she had seen
him hasten t » the assistance of the fallen
man lift him up, and place his hat and
cane in his hand.
This little incident was quite an adven
ture to Fanny; and though she was mor
tified at the part she hud played in it, she
could not regret that it had occurred.
The courtesy and kindness of the stran
ger filled her thoughts—that handsome,
smiling face haunted her; she wondered
if she should ever see it again, and as she
wondered 6he sighed unconsciously. Her
lessons were sadly imperfect that day, but
she seemed strangely unheedful of the sur
prise and reprimand of her teacher.
As she reached home, she immediately
sought her room, and flinging her cloak
and hood on a stand, sat down, with her
face buried in her hands, dreaming such
wild, fantastic dreams as mock the crea
tions of romance.
At last the dinner-bell roused her from
her vague reverie, and making some slight
additions to her simple toilet, and giving
her rich chestnut hair a few careless
strokes of the brash, she went below.
The family were already seated at the fa
ble when she entered ; she noticed that a
stranger was among them, but his back
was toward her. As she took her accus
tomed seat at the side of her uncle, he
said—“ My niece, Mr. Rossiter.”
Fanny looked towards the guest, and as
she did so her cheek became almost the
deep color of the crimson merino dress
shs wme. for her eyes met that handsome,
smiling face—-the face of one who had oc
cupied all her thoughts since morning.
Ihe recognition and the pleasure were
mutual—the agreeable beginning of a
most agreeable acquaintance.
Mr. Rossiter (he was the Honorabh
Mr. Rossiter, by the by, if being a mem
ber of the legislature might give him that
title,) was an old friend of Mr. Weston’s,
and Fanny remembered to have often
heard him spoken of in her uncle’s family
with much apparent regard and admiration.
After this day, lie came very frequently
indeed,—more frequently, it was though ,
than wa9 quite consistent with his charac
ter as a statesman and his duty to his con
stituents—to visit his old friend Weston.
In truth, the affectionate relations subsist
ing between these two seemed like pro
fane copies of the loves of David and
•lonathan—quite after Damon and Pythi
as, and slightly suggestive of Orestes and
Py lades.
It sometimes happened that Mr Rossi
ter called when both Mr. and Mrs Wes
ton were absent, and as their young olive
branches” were scarce ou of the nursery,
Fanny was reduced to the dire necessit
of doing the entire agreeable. But they
got along very well together, th ugh she
hardly bore her part in the conversation.
Yet could the potraits on the parlor wall
have heard, they might have remarked that
the Honorable gentleman was at such
times more than usually eloquent—recit
ing parts of late speeches in the House, it
may be; and coult they have seen, they
might have observed that he sometimes,
placed that handsome, smiling face very
close to Fanny s cheek—to whisper some
political secret into her ear, perhaps.
Now, cur hero was considerably older
than our heroine—hut Love can leap wi
der chasms than that between nineteen and
thirty five. 'The coming of spring took
Fanny finally fri m school and »lr. Rossi
ter home to his anxious constituents.
*******
It was July when Mr Rossiter paid
another visit to his dear old friend, at his
country-house, a few miles out of the city.
He was received by Mr. and Mrs. Wes
ton with some surprise, bu much cordiali
ty. After a reasonable time, he inquired
f r Fanny, and was directed to an arbor
in a rem te part of the large garden,
where she usually spent her mornings.
Rossiter walked thither with a quick bu
noiseless step. He came up behind her
as she stood at the entrance of the arbor
tying u> a straggling rose-tree. He step
ped so softly and brea hed so low that she
did not hear him till he called her name
almost in her ear, and she looked up into
that handsome, smiling face once more !
I have said it was midsummer, hut you
would have sworn that the garden-walk
was cover <1 with winter ice had you seen
how suddenly and invo unturily Fanny
again fell in o those arms extended to re
ceive her.
“ A fine old English gentleman ’ once
told me the s ory of his first falling earn
estly in love, which relation struck me as
something rather unique.
Mr. Rivers, my friend, was in early life
a merchant of large property, and, judg
ing from his present prepossessing appear
ance, of remarkable personal attractions.
He was thoroughly, if not highly educated,
and with just sufficieti refinement to tem
per, not enervate the strong manliness of
his character.
It happened that one season the society
of he manufacturing town in which he
resided received a great additi n in the
person of a young, beautiful and elegant
(Yeole widow, from Gaudaloupe, who, on
the death of her husband, an English sea
captain, had been invited to make her
home among his relations in M .
Our friend Mr. Rivers seemed especial
ly attracted by this stranger lady’s love
liness and a complishments. The dark
type of her beauty was new to him, and
the soft, tender character of hes face
might well have capt'vated him without
aid from a form >f noble pr. portions and
almost inluptuous ful ness. But though
his brain sometimes grew dizzy with pleas
urable but half hewi tiering sensations, his
breast heaved with no tumult of emotion
—in truth, his fancy was alone fascinated ;
his heart had no ruinous amount of in cr
est at stake in the matter.
One evening during the Chris'ma* holi
days, our hero attended a small social par
ty where he was to meet Madame Hor
tense, as Mrs. Middleton was usually
MACON, APBII 14, 1849.
named. She was the first object on which
his eyes fell as he entered the drawing
room ; and a regal-looking creature was
she, with her grand figure, her pale, clas
sic face and her languid attitude, as she
half-reclined on a softly-cushioned sofa.
She was dressed in black velvet, with a
profusion of lace ; her neck, shoulders and
arms exposed, and her wealth of dark hair
pa tly confined by a crimson net.
Strongly in contrast with her was a lady
who sat in the farther corner of the sofa
—a short, plump, little figure, with a pe
culiarly English face and air—a fine bust
and arm, lovely hands, a fair neck, bloom
ing cheeks and lips, b ue eyes and blonde
hair. She was dressed very simply in
white, and appeared quite young.
As Mr. Rivers drew near this sweet,
home like looking girl, she smi ed pleas
antly. What teeth she showed when she
smiled! What dimples broke over her
sunshiny face! Rivers looked bewilder
ed at first, but soon stepped eagerly for
ward aude rdially extended his haud, with
a “ Why, .Maty is it ,ou?”
It seemed hat Mary Stevens had been
quite a pet of his in her childhood, hut
having been absent from M ■ ■ ,at school,
for five or six years, had nearly grown out
of his recollection.
Rivers lingered for some time in friend
ly conversation by his old favorite and
then turned away and took his cus omary
position near the enchanting v idow. Ilis
wit and spirit seldom failed to rouse her
to something like animation, and this eve
ning she seemed quite playful in her hu
mor. Something at length he had said
which appeared to pique her, and she sud
denly caught up the sofa-cushiou on which
her dimpled elbow bad rested, and flung
it at the culprit’s head. It look effec’ ;
and as she >aw that he was about to re
turn the compliment, she rose and exten
ded her superb arms to receive it. Phi
dias, what an attitude ! —a thought too
languid and studied, perhaps, butstil mag
nificent. But. when she came to toss back
the cushion in hei turn, how gently and
softly was it done ! It had scarce mo
mentum enough to reach its destination.
And then her little, low, birdie laugh, and
her sweet, plaintive cry of, “Ah, ah. too
•aid! Ruthless barbarian, you will an
nih lateme! ’Pon my word. lam half
dead with fatigue! But I will have the
last brow, if I die for it! ’
At length the cushion missed its fair
mark, and passing her. hit our friend Ma
ry in the face. With a quick spring from
the sofa,she flung it back, s > well direc
ted and with such force as to almost stag
ger the laughing young man as it beat
aga’nst his bead. Another instant and it
came rushing back again, was caught and
returned with added impetus. And so it
continued for some minutes on its swift
journeys back and forth ; and there she
stood, the mischievous little maiden, in a
posture graceful yet bold, swaying rapid
ly this way and that, her shining curls fal
ling o er her glmving face, and her clear,
childish laugh ringing out merrily all the
while as she tossed and caught with the
vigor and agility of a wild zingara.
Rivers was carried away with the ex
citement and merriment of the play, and
immensely delighted with that charming
prese ration of nature which he perceived
in the fair pet of his boyhood. He said
to me—“ Her first spirited spring from the
sofa pleased me —her first vigorous fling
of the cushion made an impression on my
heart, and every succeeding hit hut drove
i in. Ah ! that was a game when every
throw won! I could have flung sofa
cushions with her forever.”
At last the announcement of dinner put
an end to this s mewhat iude sport, and it
was observed that Mr. Rivers handed out
“ hat wild Miss Stevens” in preference to
the elegant Madame Hoi tense.
Said my friend—” You will scarcely be
surprised when I tell you that itdidnotiake
a gteat length of itne to get me in love
with good, hearty, loveable nature, after
my brief infatuation with soulless art, and
that long befo e the next Christmas ho i
days I had asked that dear little hoyden
to allow me henceforth to furnish the sofa
cushions with which she should see fit to
pelt mv devoted head.
“ And thus my Mary won me."
I would merely remark that this were
well enough for once, hut that 1 would not
advise my young lady reade s to at empt
impressing the hearts of their admirers
indiscriminately by a process so indirect
at best, and, it may be. so perilous. “ Cir
cuinstatices alter cases,” and there is a vast
difference in heads.
A Noble Sentiment—" I look,” said
Channing, “with scorn on the selfish great
of the world, and with pity on the gifted
prosperous in the strugg e for office and
power, hut 1 look with reverence on the
obscure individual who suffers for the right,
who istiue to a good but persecuted cause.
Friends.—Hudibras says, a sincere
friend is—
True as the dial to the sun,
Although it lie not ahone t.poo !
And another observer of human frailty
add.:
“ A false friend is like the shadow of
the stui dial, and vanishes at the smallest
cloud.”
True Greatness. —What is great is
not always good—but what is good is
always great.
VOLUME 1-NUMBER 20.
From the National Intelligencer.
Lectures on Athens and Attica-No. 9.
Professor Kokppen’s second lecture on
the Acropolis of Athens, last Tuesday eve
ning, was illustrated with several views
of the Parthenon, exhibiting the temple
as it stood in an itjuify. with its polychrome
decorations, and its ruins in their present
condition, nfter the recent excavations
around its columns by the architects of
King Otho. The leveled platform t.f ihe
Acropolis, which in antiquity was occupied
by a vast number of sauctuaries, altars,
and statues of gods, heroes, and celebrated
Athenian and Roman statesmen and poets,
is at the present day covered with immense
heaps of marlrle bl cks, among which many
precious sculptures and iucriptions have
been found, now deposited in the halls o
the Propyloea. On the left of he entrance
are still seen the square foundations of the
pedestal on which st od the colossal bronze
statue of Athenian statuary
The great temple of Minerva (the Par
thenon) was built in the year -140 B. C.,
on thefoundationsofan olderternp'e which
had been burnt down during the Persian
wars. The eloquence of Pericles exci
ted the enthusiasm of the Athenians to un
dertake this great national monument.
Every citizen hastened to have his share in
the labors on the Acropolis; the whole city
was transformed into a working place,
while thousands of mules and oxen were
dragging tiro huge marble blocks from the
quarries on Mount Peutelicon to the height
o; the castle rock.
The Parthenon signifies the dwelling
of the Virgin, and was a Doric temple,
wi h a double row of eight columns in each
front, and seventeen in each flank—sixty
four in all. The height of the fluted col
umns is thirty-four feet, their diameter six
feet two inches. The length of the tern
pie is two hundred and twenty-eight fee ,
its breadth one hundred and two feet. It
is raised on an immense platform, having
three stairs all around the building
The cell of the temple was divided into
two compartments ; on the east, the t'huia
mos, or vit gin’s hall where the impression
of the base of ihe colossal statue of Miner
va is still seen on the marble pavement.
The western apartment was smaller; it
was called opisthodomos, or back room,
and served as the treasury ofthe Athenian
republic, thus placed beneath the imme
dia e protection of the tutelar deity of At
tica. A large collection of inscriptions,
lately discovered on the Acropolis, give
the most minute account of tlie_sLal£_ul_llie_
public treasury during different periods of
A henian history, and contain a highly cu
rious register of the precious arms, vases,
and other votive offerings adorning the in
terior of the sanctuary.
After an interesting detail of the vari
ous has reliefs ofthe frieze and metopes,
and a lucid explanat on of the late discov
eries fiom elegant paintings by M Leon
de la Borde, the lecturer dwelt with en
thusiasm on the beauty anil taste of the
polychromatic and golden ornaments ofthe
ancients. Not only the celebrated ivory
statue nf Minerva was richly adorned with
golden decorati ns, hut the same precious
metal was profusely employed in the orna
ments of the other sculptures, and on the
glittering sh elds on the facades of the
temple. Their relief was set off wi h the
mo t brilliant co'ors. On the Parthenon
the two pediments and the ground ofthe
metopes were painted in purple ; the trig
lyphs and the ground of the frieze were
oi a brilliant azure blue, and the whole
peristyle and botn the eastern and western
porticoes were richly painted wi h e'egant
and fanciful decorations. These colors
are all metallic, and were a plied on mar
ble by means of a thin coating < f wax.
The enravst r. i.ainting, burnt on he mar
ble by fire, was used by the ancients in or
der to give gloss and brilliancy to their
colors, and to preserve them from injuiy
by air or moisture.
The Greeks, with their bright creative
imagination and their high sense of beauty,
living surrounded by a scenery which na
tute had touched with the most brilliant
tints of the rainbow, boldly took up the
hint thus given them, and adorned their
sanctuaries with the bright and glittering
colors, in perfect harmony with the natur
al objects around them. The Goths, the
Danes, the An In-Saxons, beneath their
cold and cloudy sky, admired the immense
gray and gloomy ciles of their Christian
churches, the vaulted aisles of their con
vents. and their battlemen ed castles.
Ihe Greeks on the contrary, were fond
of light and life ; they consecated dark
ness and death to the austere deities of the
infernal regions, and called the Furies the
gnble sisters of night ! The dazzling light
of day surr unded the snowy abode of
their Olymp an gods, and the luminous
sane uary of Pallas Athene on her lower
ing Acropolis. Thus the painted decora
tion on the Hellenic monuments may be
considered as being in the most perfect
harmony of character and execution with
their sculpture ; but it. was on y during the
palmy days of Athenian art —the age of
Pericles and Phidias— that ’rirms of such
excellent, accurate, and delicate design
were produced.
Mr. lvoeppen then gave the history of
the Parthenon, from the earliest times
down to the present day.
In the year 1687 this celebrated tem
ple was partly destroyed by the explosion
of a powder magazine ; hut the most bar
baric trea meat which it has received was
in the early pait of the present century,
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING,
Will be executed in the most approved style
and og the best terms, at the Ojfice of the
SCTJTHSPsIT MUSEUM,
-BY—
WM. B. IIARRISON.
when Lord Elgin, then English Ambassa
dor at Constantinople, obtained & firman
from the Grand Signor to allow him to
collect some “ old stones” in and about
Athens. He proceeded with his authority
to dislodge the friezes, and other ornamen
tal parts of the temples, especially of the
Parthenon—to remove the statues, alter
grossly mutilating them, and rendering al
most worthless what he could not take
away. The sight of this indiscriminate
plundering was too much even for Turk*
isk indifference to endure. Strong re
monstrances were made to the Porte, and
another finnan was issued forbidding any
further removal of “ old stones.” l’ifty
three slabs of the frieze of the Parthenon,
and twenty-five out of ninety-two metopes,
were included in the eighty boxes which,
in 1812, were received in England, sold to
the Bri ish Government for about $200,-
000, and placed in the British Musewp,
where they still remain.
When these dislodged, expatriated, mu
tilated groups were viewed by an honest
countrywoman of the iconoclast, she in
quired if these were the Elgin marbles
for which the Government paid £40,000 i
and being answered in the affirmative, ex
claimed, “ Bless my heart, are there not
living men em ugh in England that havo
hud their limbs broken or cut off, that our
ttreat folks must be bringing so many dead
ones a long way over the seas, without
arms, or leg 9, or heads, and paying such
a deal of money for them, too V' This
incident showed the estimation in which
the act of those who received and paid for
the plunder is viewed l>y honest people,
even in England.
The triple temple of Minerva Polias,
called the Erechthenm, is standing on the
north side of the platform, near the pre
cipice of the rock from which the daugh
ters of Cecrops had precipitated them
selves after opening the forbidden box of
Pandrosos.
This splendid building, with its three
portici es in the elegant lonic order of ar
chitecture, was it: g«sd preservation until
the late war of independence, when a
Turkish ball striking the corner column of
the northern portico, the whole gave way,
and buried the family of ihe Greek Com
mander, General Gouras, beneath its ru
ins. The greatest ornament of the Erech
theum is the hall of the Caryatids, six
beautiful colossal statues of Athenian vir
gins, supporting on their heads the enta
blature. Lord Elgin carried ofl one of
the maidens, and on the plastor pillar
winch life |>lacedrin the place of the Cary
atid was afterwards seen the following in
scription of Lord Byron:
Quod non fecerunt Gothi,
Hoc frccrunl Scoci.
•All, Athene! scarce escaped from Turk and Goth
Hell sends a paltry Scotchman worse than both!”
Numerous inscrip'ions found near the
Erechtheum give interesting details of the
rebuilding of the temple during the Pelo
pouiiessian war, of the splendid encaustic
paintings with which the porticoes were
adorned, and the registers of all the pre
cious votive offerings and trophies deposi*
ed in the sanctuary of Atheni Polias.
The lecture closed with an animated de
scription of the grand spectacle of the il
lumination of the Acropolis by large bon
fires on the fete of King Olho, .lune 1,
1835. All the unpleasant spots and splin
ters on the columns, occasioned by the
Turkish shells and balls during the late
war, which, in the day time, checker aiiu
disfigure the noble front of the temple, had
then vanished in the obliqe illumination of
the blazing flames and the mellow moon
light. The gigantic virgins of the Erech
theum emerged from the deep shade in the
combined light of the ruddy flames and
ti e pale moon as supernatural beings from
another world, while in the depth below
the plain and the dis'ant city of Athens,
beneath the influence of the illumination,
appeared as an immense lake reflecting
the twinkling of the stars on the firmanent
above.
Sono Birhs—The delightful music of
song birds is perhaps the chief cause why
these charming little creatures are in all
countries so highly prized. Music is a
universal language; it is undet stood and
cherished in evety country, the savage the
barbarian, and tbe civilized individual, are
all passionately found of music— particu
larly of melody. But delightful as music
is,perhaps there is another reason that may
have led man to deprive the warblers of
ihe woods and fields ol'liberty, particularly
in civilized states, where the intellect is
more refined, and, consequently, the feel
ings more adapted to receieve tender iro
rressions—we mean the association of
ideas. Their sweet melody brings him
more particularly in contact withthegToves
and meadows—with romantic banks or
beautiful sequestered glades—the cherish
ed scenes, perhaps of his early youth.
But, independent of this, the warble of a
sweet song bird is in itself very delightful ;
and to men of sedentary habits, confined
to cities by professional duties, and to their
desks most part ofthe day, we do not know
a more innocent or more agreeable recre
ation than the rearing and training of these
little feathered musicians.
Very True. —Men are like bugles, the
more brass they contain the further you
can hear them. Ladies are like violets,
the more m dest and retiring they appear,
tne better you love them.