Upon a miserable couch, in a low hovel in one of the most unfrequented, narrow and dirty streets of Rome, lay the Senator Marcellus. He was clad in a tattered and lowly garb, and disappointment and sorrow had preyed upon his frame : but there was yet the stern dignity of look the haughty brow, the commanding air of the high born noble. He was apparently asleep—though the moving of his lips at intervals might have betrayed to the observer that thought was busy within him. By his side, in a mean dress corresponding to his own, with her face buried in his bosom, knelt the sunny, the gentle Livia, the daughter of his house. She was wakeful—watchful; for whenever the storm beat heavily against the rude walls of the hut, or the footfall of some lonely passer-by broke the stillness, she wonli suddenly lift up her head, and glance fearfuly around. Upon her once calm, bright features, agony of spirit had laid a blighting hand—robbing her of much of outward beauty, but at the same time revealing in more lustrous openness the heavenly purity of her soul. There was a low repeated tap at the door. Clasping her hands, a slight gleam of joy stealing across her face, Livia sprang across the floor and drew back the bolt—admitting the gray haired Titus, an ancient servitor of her father, The old man set down his basket, in which were some slight provisions which he had purchased, and then shook off the rain from his coarse robe. Livia carefully fastened the door behind him. “Well, Titus,” said Marcellus, “what news—what news? Nothing of gladness I warrant me—for thy look has no revelation of joy.” The freedman shook his head, and, as if to change the subject, busied himself in unlading his basket. It was time for the anxious Livia to speak. Laying her hand softly upon his arm to draw his attention, while a deep burning blush rose and mantled on her pale cheek, she whispered— “Didst hear nought of him—no rumor of his fate 7 “I must e'en tell thee, dear lady,” answered Titus, sighing, “though the tale

may blanch thy cheek yet neares the snowy marble. , Glycon has been a pris. oner since the battle.” “He lives, then I he lives!” “Yes—but he is in training for a glad. iator—and next week at the great ses. tival he must combat in the arena.” “What, Titus, sayst thou so"—there is no hope, then, for the brave Grecian." said Marcellus, looking earnestly at his gasping child. “No hope l’exclaimed Livia. “0 no —no—she said not so—there is hope— there is hope, Titus 1" “One—but one—and that as yet, my lady, only faintly shadowed forth. Wii my master permit a word with him!" Marcellus and the old servant convers. ed some time together in low whispers, careful not to permit their words to be heard by the disconsolote Livia, who so on the couch with her face buried in her hands. After the short conference her father approached her and took her hand. “Livia, there is a hope for Glycon Our friends have in secret arranged a plot to save him. It is faint—faint, my Livia; yet Jupiter may look in favor up. on us and give us success. Here must we lie in sad concealment until the games. Then, when the Roman soldiers and Ro man knaves are intent on pleasure, we must leave to others the fulfilment of the design, and fly forever from this degi ded Rome.” # # # # # # The festival came. Mad Riot strok with unfettered step through every at nue of the Eternal City; and at night when the minions of the emperor, stee in wild licentiousness, surrendered duly to the blandishments of sensual indulgeno \larcellus and the miserable Livia slo away. Fortune favored their escapeand ere the morning dawned, the lowo ing smoke hung over Rome, to them so ing down in the far horizon. Livia is written a scroll, blotted with her teas. to Glycon, in which, by her father's di. rection, she informed him whither to: had fled, that, should he be saved le might direct his steps in pursuit. To the faithful Titus promised by solo means to convey to him; and, with *

fled emotion, Marcellus left the hom"

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that he had hoped to redeem. With a save this evidence of interest in those short adieu he bade farewell to her rec-about him, no sign of emotion was visible ords of glorious days—looked with tear-in his features. The emperor impatiently ful eyes on the pillars of the proud Capi-gave the signal for the fight, and the first tol—and wandered forth a noble, firm, opponent sprung—his burnished armor unshrinking patriot, to lay his bones in a glittering in the light—into the view of foreign soil. the people. A smothered cry of horror “ Ho! for the arena!” rung the re-broke forth. He was a tall, sinewy Dalechoed cy. “Ho! for the merry com-matian—the strongest, the most hardy of bats l’’ was the voice of a people, so lost the brutal gladiators—and him was Glyto human sympathies, that the sight of con to oppose. Throughout the crowd, blood was as grateful incense. High up dread of the certainty of the gallant Gly. toward the heavens appeared the mollicon. fate made them hush every sound tude in the amphitheatre, crowded togeth- as the combatants prepared for their coner, rising a breathing mass, seat above test. There were dreadful odds—but not seat, to the lofty top. The sports were a shadow of fear crossed the calm face of for a time retarded, waiting for the en- our devoted hero. He fixed his eagle eye trance of the emperor. When he ap-upon the Dalmatian, and in losty courage peared with his officers, and guards and opposed him. Caution was his breasttook his seat, here and there hired para-plate. When the gladiator bore down upsites shouted at the top of their voices, on him with a fierce and deadly stroke, “Long live Domitian, the mighty empe-he sprung aside and escaped unscathed; rort” But the outnumbering people and again, when the heavy sword was were still as the grave—and he that had descending, he dexterously with his shield been as a dread demon of evil among turned aside the blow. Thousands, in an them swelled with bursting rage that they agony of anxiety. watched that slow, unewould not echo the shout, “Long live qual combat. The confidence of his foe the mighty emperor.” in his armor and his superiority, was the Ere long the combats began. Pairs of safety of Glycon. At length the enraged gladiators successively fought, and again Dalmatian threw himself with a final efand again was the absorbing sand thrown fort upon the Grecian. His powerful blow upon the bloody arena. After the spec-was caught upon the inclined shield, and tators had become satiated with this his heavy sword glanced aside, throwing dreadful enjoyment, the ravenous deni-him from his guard. This was the mozens of the forest were let loose for men to ment for Glycon. He closed—threw his battle with, in abhorent and unnatural adversary from his feet—and, as he fell, warfare. Some, wary and cunning, slew he plunged his sword into his unguarded their wild antagonist; others were torn neck. The dark fountain of life poured in pieces by their ruthless fangs. Domi-from the wound, and attendants dragged tian soon grew impatient for the consum-the body from the arena. mation of vengeance, and gave command. There was a long, exulting shout—but that Glycon, the Grecian, should belit became instantly and painfully hushed brought into the arena. As he firmly en- as the roar of a half-famished lion echoed tered, armed by the emperor's orders only on the air. Until now, not a muscle of with a sword and shield, there was a stir Glycon's frame had quivered—not a limb among the populace of admiration and had trembled—nor had his cheek blanched love, which the more galled the savage in his danger. But now his lip quivered— Domitian, and made his breast burn the his keen eye glanced with lightling quickfiercer for revenge. Glycon stood un-ness around, and his face became deadly. daunted before the eyes of the circling pale. Joy beamed on the visage of the multitude, with a composure of nerve and emperor as he observed the change. “He an elevation of countenance that spoke the is afraid,” exclaimed he. “Glycon is bold determination and fearlessness of his afraid! Good—good—now—Now let forth soul. At times he bent his head forward the lion " as he slowly paced the arena, and his eye Was it fear that had come over Glycon! roved searchingly among the mass; and, Already the keeper had advanced to


obey the command—already was the sword of Glycon pointed by his trembling hand to receive his raging foe—when at once, loud, mingled, increasing cries broke forth on all sides among the crowd. Up sprung the multitude upon their feet. Broader and broader swelled the clamor. “The enemy the enemy" “Rebellion " “The senators " “The soldiers l’’ were shouted forth, mingling its stunning confusion. Like the angry sea the heads waved to and fro. The women shrieked and clung to their protectors. Through the broad entrances rushed thousands to escape from imaginary danger; and thousands threw themselves into the arena. The coward emperor sprung up and looked wildly around. “My guards, ho! My guards! clean me a pathway ! Ho! my guards!” Soldiers and parasites gathered about him, and the noise grew louder as he hurried into the open air. “Now, my lord, now,” said one behind Glycon—“none but friends are around. Quick—put on this robe. The emperor will soon discover the cheat. Mingle with friends—away.” * 4. + * # & * The prisoner had fled—whither, the strictest search of the emperor could not detect. The plot had succeeded, Ere many years the crimes of the mon. ster insured his doom—and the hate that dared not attack him in open day, destroy. ed him by the arm of the assassin. Domitian fell, and a world rejoiced. His body was left to decay in the open air. His honors were all annulled, his memory loaded with the foul opprobrium which his vices deserved, and Nerva mounted the throne. With deep anxiety did a peasant, his wife and her father, humbly tilling the earth in a little village in Greece, watch the reign of this good prince, to see if greatness would develope the vices which stained the reign of his predecessor; but after two years of honorable rule, Nerva died. Trajan succeeded. The salutary projects of Nerva were fulfilled in him; and when it was sure that the citizen of the Eternal City could live in the land of his fathers in peace, the peasant and his family left their obscure retreat, and started on their way to Rome.

Loud echoed it through the city that the Senator Marcellus and the brave Gly. con, who had fought for the people, were returned; and when the emperor was told of it, he with joy gave back to the vener. able man the possessions of his house: and Glycon was received with honor— winning respect and love as the friendand counsellor of his master.

From a “Lady's Gift,” by Mrs. Stanford. The Wedded Life.

I may perhaps startle you, by saying that the first year of a young woman's wedded life is generally the most unhappy, and the most trying one she experiences However intently we may have studied the character of our affianced—however well we may imagine we knew it in a its narrow windings, still shall we find, when we become wives that we have yet something to learn. By actions is the affection on either side shown, and al. though it is in the power and nature of a woman to manifest her devotedness and tenderness by a thousand little attentions. she must not repine if she receive not the like.

The feelings of the other sex are not so soft and exquisite as those of our own if they were, we might possibly be has. pier, and we mav for a moment wish that they were so, but we shall restrain so selfish a desire, if we reflect how much more unfit they would be by such a cost stitution to bear the crosses and buffels of the world; and we shall rejoice this they do not possess our keener sensitik ties and rest content with our lot, refusing to increase at their expense, a happines, which, if not quite meeting our ideas of perfection, does so sufficiently to make us blest.

It is said that “Lover's quarrels” is but the renewal of love—but it is not so in truth. Continued differences and bicker ings will undermine the strongest asso tion, and a wife cannot be too careful to avoid disputes upon the most trival subjects; indeed, it is the every day occur. rences which try the love and tempers of the married life—great occasiors for quo rels seldom occur. Every wish, every

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prejudice, must meet with attention, and the first thought of a woman should be the pleasing and providing for her husband.— It is impossible to enuaerate all the little incidents which may annoy married men, or the ltttle inobtrusive pleasures which it is in the power of a wife to give; but throughout her life in her employments and in her amusements, she must ever bear his pleasure in her mind. She must act for him in preference to herself, and she will be amply rewarded by witnessing his delight in her and in his home. To a woman who loves her husband with all the devotedness of her nature, this will be a pleasure, not a task and to make him happy, she will never grudge any sacrifice of self.

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MANNERS IN Missouri.—A member elect of the lower chamber of the legislature of this State was last year persuaded

animal, hop on, jest as soon as Áou like, for though I’m from the back country, I'm a leetle smarter than any other quadreped you can turn out of this drove.' . After this admirable harangue, he put his bowie knife between his teeth and took up his rifle with, ‘Come here, old Suke, and stand by me !' at the same time presenting it at the chairman, who, however had seen such people many a time before. After some expostulation the man was persuaded that he belonged to the lower chamber, upon which The sheathed his knife, flung his gun on his shoulder, and with a profound congee, remarked, “Gentlemen I beg your pardon, but if I didn't think that thatar lower room was the groggery may I be shot.’

Choice of NAMEs.-We were once acquainted with a couple who made

by some wags of his neighborhood that if choice of the most noted names of the day he did not reach the state house at ten o' for all their children, some half a dozen, clock on the day of assembly, he could and the proud mother of the young Gracnot be sworn and would lose his soat:chi, would take every occasion, when He immediately mounted with hunting strangers were within hearing to “call the frock, rifle and bowie knife, and spurred roll” of the “great folks,” in something till he got to the door of the state house, like the following manner:— where he hitched his nag. A crowd “You, Martha Washington! come here were in the chamber of the lower house this moment and mind Andrew Jackson & on the ground floor, walking about with William Shakspeare while Arthur Weltheir hats on and smoking cigars. These lington helps Napoleon Bonaparte, over he passed ran up stairs in the senate the mud puddle; and then run and call chamber, set his rifle against the wall and your daddy to dinner!” bawled. ‘Strangers, whars the man what

swors me in "--at the same time taking out his credentials. “Walk this way'— said the clerk, who was at the moment igniting a real Principe, and he was sworn without enquiry. When the teller came

THE ‘RED cross' of ENGLAND.—In the time of the crusades, the national standard of England was a White Cross, and that of the French the “Oriflame,' a Red Cross; this was lost at the battle of Agincourt;

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to count noses, he found there was one and the English sovereigns, afterwards, senator too many present, the mistake pretending a right to the kingdom of was soon discovered and the huntsman France, assumed the Red Cross of France. was informed that he did not belong there Charles VII. then, dauphin, being made • Fool who t with your corn bread ' he acquainted with this fact, changed the enroared. You can't flunk this child no signs of his nation to a White Cross 1 and, how you can fix it. I'm elected to this the more distinctly to mark that, he willhere legislatur, and I'll go agin all banks!ed, that, hereafter, to be considered as the arm detarnal improvements, and if there's national colour; he himself used an enany of you oratory gentleman wants to sign entirely white, which he called a corget skinned, jest say the word and I'll nette, and gave it as an ensign to the first ūzht upon you like a nigger on a wood-company of gendarmerie that he raised, chuck. My constituents sent me here, and it has ever since borne the name of and if you want to floor this two-legged la Cornette blanche.

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The suicide.

Deep vale of sorrow from life's early day
Amid thy cypress shades a sojourner,
Woes of dread name have marked my winding war,
And forc'd from feeling's fount, the burning tear;
The tear for unrequited love and truth,
For honor fall'n, the purple blush of shame,
The rendering sigh o'er vanish'd hopes of youth,
The pang of woman's pride for blasted fame,
All these are mine, and more, I may not, duritnut
Dark dregs and bitter —vet let no one think,
Unnerv'd her energies, and quench'd her fire,
Tamely the maddening draught shall Ella drink,
No! rather let me rouse each atentire;
And nobly spurning the low beaten track,
The world's cold scorn, and pity of the good,
With Portia's Arria's courage, render back,
Of being's weight the insufferable load,
A bootless gift at best—resume thy loan, my God!
The deed is done! the steal hath gleam'd on high,
The crimson tide of life is ebbing fast,
Soon shall this breast expel the final sigh,
And these quick flutt'ring pulses throb their last!
Soft in the earth this wilder'd head shall rest,
Nor dream of ill disturb the long repose,
The daisied turf surmount this brusting breast,
Nor Ella's heart be wrung with Ella's woes,
Prison'd from sorrow there, and safe from all her foes.
Ha! do I rave? the mist that veil'd my sight,
Life's laboring, panting hath swept away,
And conscience, habited in beamy light,
Opes her broad page, and pcints the informing ray.
Passion's loud gust is lush'd, nor longer drowns
Her awful voice, as erst 'twas wont to do;
Truth, told in thunder, my stunn'd ear confounds,
And o'erwhelms me with its weight of woe;
Where, my distracted soul, for refuge canst thougo!
Saviour of sinners ? to thy wounded side,
Though long contemned, fain would my spirit flee;
Sole ark of safety, where the guilty hide
From floods of vengeance—yet no shield for me!
Too late too late Oh, give me back to life!
The flintiest path that ever mortal trod,
Its keenest sorrows, and its sharpest strife,
Its veriest ignominious scorn and load,
I could endure for aye—but not thy frown, Oh, Go!
“Laugh'st thou at my calamity ?” I rush'd
Dreadless to meet thee at that dreadful throne;
With every vile and untam'd passion flush'd,
I dar'd the doom and pluck'd the vengeance down.
Dark boils the gulph of Death, that now I pass,
No charge to meet but deep and deeper ill;
Nor, on the opening gates of during brass,
I read thy unreversed and righteous will,
“He that comes filthy here let him be filthy still."

*-* • TERMIS.

The PHILADELPHIA VISITER AND PAR. LOUR COMPANION, is published every other Saturday, on fine white paper, each number willcon" tain 24 large super-royal octavo pages, envelopedin a fine printed cover, forming at the end of the year a volume of nearly 600 pages, at the very low prio

of $125 cts. per annum in advance. $200 will be charged at the end of the year.

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