Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud before the hesitating Constantine, if man follow but its precepts, purely, it will not only lead him to the victories of this world, but open the very portals of Omnipotence for his admission.

SUBJECTS DESCRIPTIVE AND MISCELLA

NEOUS.

THE SELF-INFLICTING TORMENTS OF THE GAMESTER.

No man who has not felt, can possibly image to himself the tortures of a gamester. Of a gamester like me, who played for the improvement of his fortune, who played with the recollection of a wife and children, dearer to him than the blood that bubbled through the arteries of his heart; who might be said like the savages of ancient Germany, to make these relations the stake for which he threw; who saw all his own happiness and all theirs, through the long vista of life, depending on the turn of a card! All bodily racks and torments are nothing compared with certain states of the human mind. The gamester would be the most pitiable, if he were not the most despicable creature that exists. Arrange ten bits of painted paper in a certain order, and he is ready to go wild with the extravagance of his joy. He is only restrained by some remains of shame from dancing about the room, and displaying the vileness of his spirit by every sort of freak and absurdity. At another time, when his hopes have been gradually worked up into a paroxysm, an unexpected turn arrives, and he is made the most miserable of men. Never shall I cease to recollect the sen⚫ sation which I have repeatedly felt, in the instantaneous sinking of the spirits, the conscious fire that spread over my visage, the anger in my eye, the burning dry. ness of my throat, the sentiment that in a moment was ready to overwhelm with curses the cards, the stake,

my own existence, and all mankind. How every malig. nant and insufferable passion seemed to rush upon my soul! What nights of dreadful solitude and despair did I repeatedly pass during the progress of my ruin! It was the night of the soul! My mind was wrapped in a gloom that could not be pierced! My heart was oppressed with a weight that no power appeared equal to remove! My eyelids seemed to press downward with an invincible burthen! My eyeballs were ready to start and crack their sockets! I lay motionless, the victim of ineffable horror!

A description of the field of battle, where Varus, the Roman General and his army, had been destroyed by Arminius. Also of the tribute of respect paid by Germanicus and his legions to the scattered and unburied bones of their slaughtered countrymen.

Touched by this affecting circumstance, Germanicus resolved to pay the last human office to the relics of that unfortunate commander and his slaughtered soldiers. The same tender sentiment diffused itself throughout the army. Some felt the touch of nature for their relations, others for their friends, and all lamented the disasters of war, and the wretched lot of human kind. The army marched through a gloomy solitude; the place presented an awful spectacle, and the memory of a tragical event increased the horror of the scene. The first camp of Varus appeared in view, the extent of the ground, and the three different enclosures for the eagles, still distinctly seen, left no doubt that the whole was the work of the three legions.

Farther on were traced the ruins of a rampart and the hollow of a ditch well nigh filled up. This was supposed to be the spot where the few who escaped the general massacre, made their last effort, and perished in the attempt. The plains around were white with bones on some places thinly scattered, in others lying

in heaps, as the men happened to fall in flight, or in a body, resisted to the last; fragments of javelins, and the limbs of horses lay scattered about the field: human sculls were seen upon the trunks of trees. In the adja cent woods stood the savage altars where the tribunes, and the principal centurions were offered up a sacrifice with barbarous rites. Some of the soldiers who survived that dreadful day, and afterwards broke their chains, related circumstantially several particulars. "Here the commanders of the legions were put to the sword; on that spot the eagles were seized; there Varus received his first wound, and this the place where he gave himself the mortal stab, and died by his own sword.

"Yonder mound was the tribunal from which Armini

us harangued his countrymen. Here he fixed his gibbets, there he dug his funeral trenches; and in that quarter he offered every mark of scorn and insolence to the Roman Eagles." Six years had elapsed since the overthrow of Varus, and in the same spot the Roman army collected the bones of their slaughtered countrymen. Whether they were burying the remains of strangers or of their own friends, no man knew; all, however; considered themselves as performing the last obsequies to their kindred and their brother soldiers. While employed in this pious office, their hearts were torn with contending passions; by turns oppressed with grief, and burning for revenge.

A monument to the memory of the dead was raised with turf; Germanicus, with his own hand, laid the first sod; discharging at once a tribute due to the le gions, and sympathizing with the rest of the army.

EULOGY ON GENERAL WASHINGTON.

In contemplating the revolution of this country, the mind naturally recurs to the means by which so great an object was accomplished, and its eye at once rests upon Washington! A man, a soldier, and a patriot"take him for all in all," we "shall not look upon his

like again." Between Cincinnatus and him, many characteristic features of resemblance may be distinctly traced; that admirable Roman, after having successfully fought his country's battles, turned the sword of death into the life-providing plough share, and laying down all dignity, save that of human nature, retired to the cultivation of his fields. So did the great, the more than great, the good Washington. Cincinnatus possessed the amor patriæ in no less a degree; but his merit in the possession was certainly less for with the first breath he drew, he inhaled the air of freedom, and the first drop of milk that sustained him, was strongly impregnated with the love of liberty! In him, not to have been a republican, had been criminal. Not so was it with Columbia's hero. Although born, fostered, and educated under a monarchy, yet, when the great, the paramount call of country, aroused him to the assertion of her rights, he arose a colossal pillar to perpetuate to future ages the glory of the emancipation of America! But why should such a feeble pen as mine attempt an eulogy? His memory is embalmed with the tears of a grateful people, and his immortal part has met that immortality which is the sure reward of the just and good.

ON GENERAL LA FAYETTE'S RECEPTION IN THE UNITED STATES IN 1824.

Never was the aphorism Vox Populi! Vox Dei ! exemplified until now. It remained for Columbia to give the elucidation. What have been all earthly triumphs compared to the one which is now passing before our eyes.-Alexander entered Babylon reeking with the gore, and riding upon the necks of a prostrate people. Cæsar entered Rome, trampling upon the liberties of his country. La Fayette enters America with the halo of Washington around his head, and the shouts and blessings of free millions vibrating in his heart, standing upon earth with feelings raised to heaven! Oh what