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ovation; obituary; parties (for" persons"); posted (for “ informed "); poetess; portion (for "part"); predicate; progressing; pants (for "pantaloons"); reliable; repudiate (for "reject," or "disown"); rôle (for "part "); secesh; states (for "says"); taboo; transpire (for "occur"); to progress; tapis; talented; the deceased.

Mr. Godwin is ready and versatile as he is able, being entirely at home in every department of journalism. As a dramatic and art critic he excels, while for the routine work of the newspaper office, he has rare capacities. An instance of his versatility may be given. At the time of the marriage of the Prince of Wales, there was great anxiety among the newspaper men of New York to secure the full particulars of the event-each journal wishing to lead in the publication of the English account. It so happened that the steamer, with full files of the papers having claborate descriptions, reached New York about 10 o'clock in the morning, which of course gave the evening journals the advantage. The time, however, in which to prepare the matter for press was short, and unfortunately every member of the editorial staff was absent except Godwin and a junior subordinate. But Godwin did not mean to be beaten, and, receiving the files of the London Times, three or four of whose mammoth pages were occupied with the details of the royal wedding, he put himself down to the work of condensing the entire narrative into a couple of columns. The task was a huge one, but Godwin rapidly scanned the narrative in order to catch its more important points, and then commenced to write; the result was, that in three hours and a half, the first edition of the Evening Post went to press containing a London letter of nearly two columns, in which the pageant, which a few days before had stirred that capital to its profoundest depths, was most graphically described, not an essential fact nor a single shade in the coloring of the picture being omitted—the narrative, indeed, forming as complete a daguerreotype of the scene and occasion as could possibly be desired, and all in less space than the Times had occupied in describing the color of the Princess Alexandra's bridal attire, or the cut of the Prince's coat. The outside world universally pronounced the Evening Post "letter" the best account of the wedding published in this country, and that, too, notwithstand ing the morning journals of the following day printed from three to four pages of extracts from the descriptive matter of the London Times, Star and News.

About a year since, Mr. Godwin went abroad, where he now resides with his family, leisurely prosecuting, as is said, his researches into

the history of France, preparatory to the completion of his great work upon that country and people, the first volume of which, published some years ago, was received with so much favor. As one of the representative men of America, at once a scholar and publicist, doubtless he finds his sojourn in the most brilliant capital of Europe both profitable and pleasant; and certainly, wherever he may wander, he will have the kindliest wishes of all who, knowing him as he is, are assured that in whatever presence he may stand, he will honor the people for whose progress and elevation in all true and wholesome growth he has labored without ceasing.

FORTY-TWO.

'Tis sad, to hearts yet youthful,
To know we're growing old,

"To feel the tale is truthful

That on the face is told.

Though Time, with noiseless winglets,
May fly as song-birds do-
How often childhood's ringlets
Are gray at forty-two!

Should Love forsake the embers

While yet they are a-glow,
While yet the heart remembers
The Love of long-ago?

Alas! as years glide by us,

Say, is it really true,

That Love comes seldom nigh us
When we are forty-two?

When past is youthful folly,

And wisdom takes its place,
And shades of melancholy
Are cast upon the face,
And youth's elastic lightness
Is gone will nothing do
To keep life's golden brightness
When we are forty-two?

Bid care be still a stranger

Let not our hearts grow cold

And then there is no danger

Of ever growing old;

LETTERS OF THE YOUNGER PLINY.

And life will be a pleasure
That miser never knew,
Amid his hoard of treasure,
When we are forty-two.

If Love have still the power
To make the pulses leap,
What matter if an hour

May bring us cause to weep.
Though sparkles life's bright morning
No longer with the dew,

Why should we heed the warning
Though we are forty-two?

203

THE LETTERS OF THE YOUNGER PLINY.

THERE is no character among the ancients more interesting to the student of Roman classics, than that of the Younger Pliny. His life appears to have been an exercise of every generous and social virtue. His power and fortune were consecrated to the task of forwarding modest merit, encouraging rising talent, and vindicating oppressed innocence. Born in the ninth year of the reign of Nero, and in the sixty-second year of the Christian era, his eyes first opened on the world just at the period when that emperor had thrown off the mask, and was beginning to develop the cruel traits that have stamped him in history as the world's greatest monster; having just entered upon that career of riot and debauchery so graphically pictured in the pages of Petronius's Arbiter. When Pliny was about a year old, occurred the dreadful fire in Rome, which consumed every thing in its pathway, from Mount Palatine to the Esquiline Hill, lasting for six days, and during the horrors of which, it is reported that Nero went to his own theatre, and mounting the stage sung the destruction of Troy, accompanying his voice with the music of the harp. The origin of this fire he afterward attributed to the new sect, called Christians in derision of the memory of their crucified founder, hoping thereby to divert suspicion from himself as the incendiary, to this despised class. To punish them, he caused some to be dressed in the skins of wild beasts, and worried by dogs, others he covered with inflammable material and set fire to them, that they might give light to the streets of Rome at night. Before Pliny was six years old, this imperial monster, a trembling fugitive, to escape the frightfully cruel death decreed for him by the Roman Senate, with the cries of his pursuers still ringing in his

ears, had ended his wretched life by stabbing himself in the throat. The birth-place of Pliny was on the romantic shores of the Lake of Como, in the town of Novo Comum, now known by the same name as the lake. He alludes to his birth-place in a beautiful letter to Cauinus Rufus, when he says: "How stands Comum,-that favorite scene of yours and mine? What becomes of the pleasant villa, the vernal portico, the shady plane-tree walk, the crystal canal, so agreeably winding along its favorite banks, together with the charming lake below, which serves at once the purposes of use and beauty? What have you to tell me of the soft Gestateo, the sunny bath, the public saloon, the private dining-room, and all the elegant apartments for repose both at noon and night. Do these possess my friend, and divide his time with pleasing vicissitude? Or do the affairs of the world as usual call him frequently from this loved retreat?"

We may gather from his letters that Comum was in his time a flourishing city, adorned with statues, porticos, pillared gates, and temples, and encircled with large and splendid villas. He was born to immense wealth, of a highly distinguished family, both branches of which were closely connected with the most influential patrician houses of Rome. The luxury and elegance of his father's villa had been the theme of even Martial's muse. It may well be supposed that, with such surroundings, no expense or pains would be spared to give him the most complete education that the Roman schools afforded. The remarkable brightness and intelligence of the lad early attracted the notice and admiration of his distinguished uncle, Caius Pliny, who was the bosom friend of Vespasian; and who, after having filled some of the highest and most responsible offices in the State, found leisure in the midst of his official cares to prepare voluminous essays upon polite literature, grammar, eloquence, and history. He also left behind him manuscripts treating of geography, mathematics, philosophy, astronomy, botany, sculpture, painting, architecture, &c., which he bequeathed to his nephew. He had also several commands in the army and navy, and was as distinguished by his courage in these positions, as by his surpassing eloquence at the bar.

His manner of life and studies, as described by his nephews, may well fill even the students of this remarkable age in which we live with astonishment. In summer he always began his studies as soon as it was night; in winter generally at one in the morning, but never later than two, and often at midnight. Before daybreak he used to wait upon Vespasian, the emperor, who likewise chose that season to transact business; and when he had finished the affairs the emperor

had committed to his charge, he returned to his studies. After a slender repast at noon, he would frequently in the summer, if disengaged from business, repose himself, during which time some author was read to him from which he made extracts and observations. This was his constant method whatever book he read, for it was a maxim of his, "that no book was so bad, but something might be learned from it." When this was over, he generally went into the cold bath, after which he took a slight refreshment of food and rest; and then, as if it had been a new day, resumed his studies until supper time, when a book was again read to him, upon which he would comment. His nephew mentions a singular instance, to show how covetous he was of his time, and how greedy of knowledge. His reader having pronounced a word wrong, somebody at the table made him repeat it, upon which Pliny asked his friend if he understood it, who, acknowledging that he did: "Why, then," said he, "would you make him go back again! We have lost by this interruption above ten lines." In summer he always rose from his supper by daylight, and in winter as soon as it was dark. Such was his way of life amidst the noise and hurry of the town; but in the country his whole time was devoted to study without intermission, excepting only when he bathed, and this no longer than while he was actually in the bath; for even while he was rubbed and wiped, he was employed either in hearing some book read to him, or in dictating. Even in his journeys he lost no time from his studies. A secretary constantly attended him in his chariot, who in the winter particularly warm sort of glove, that the sharpness of the weather might not occasion any interruption to his pursuit; and for the same reason, instead of walking, he rode in a chair in Rome.

The early education of the Younger Pliny went on under the eye of this laborious student, and it may well be supposed that there would be no wasted hours with a master so jealous of his own time. The proficiency of the scholar would appear to have kept pace with the zeal and attention of the master, for we find him, before he was fourteen, the author of a Greek tragedy that received the warmest encomiums of the first literary minds at Rome, and the schools of the rhetoricians were the haunts of his leisure hours. But just as he was entering his eighteenth year, his uncle was snatched away from him by a violent death that overtook him in a humane effort to succor the sufferers who were flying in terror from the eruption of Vesuvius, that suddenly buried Herculaneum and Pompeii out of sight for centuries beneath a shower of hot ashes and pumice-stones. Pliny the Younger was with his uncle at his villa near the Misenum, on the