Ephorus lived in his time-he wrote a history com- | which began with the Punic wars, and finished with the mencing with the return of the Heraclidæ and ending conquest of Macedonia by Paulus. This is lost, exwith the 20th year of Philip of Macedon. It was in 30 | cept the first 5 books, and fragments of the 12 following. books and is frequently quoted by Strabo and others. Livy has copied whole books from him, almost word for Almost all the writings of Aristotle are extant. Dio-word-and thinks proper to call him in return "haudgenes Laertes has given a catalogue of them. His Art quaquam spernendus auctor."

of Poetry has been imitated by Horace.

Eschines, his contemporary, wrote 5 orations and 9 epistles, The orations alone are extant. 340. Demosthenes was his contemporary and rival.

TO AN ARTIST,

Lovely Woman.

P.

Theophrastus composed many books and treatises-Who requested the writer's opinion of a Pencil Sketch of a very Diogenes enumerates 200. Of these 20 are extantamong which are a history of stones-treatises on plants, on the winds, signs of fair weather, &c.-also, his Characters, a moral treatise. 320.

Menander was his pupil; he was called prince of the new comedy. Only a few fragments remain of 108 comedies which he wrote.

Philemon was contemporary with these two. The fragments of some of his comedies are printed with those of Menander.

Megasthenes lived about this time., He wrote about the Indians and other oriental nations. His history is often quoted by the ancients. There is a work now | extant which passes for his composition, but which is spurious.

Epicurus also lived now. He wrote 300 volumes according to Diogenes.

Chrysippus indeed, rivalled him in the number, but not in the merit of his productions. They were contemporaries. 280.

The sketch is somewhat happy of the maid;
But where's the dark ethereal eye-
The lip of innocence-the sigh,
That breathes like spring o'er roses just betrayed?
And where the smile, the bright bewitching smile
That lights her youthful cheek with pleasure,
Where health and beauty hoard their treasure,
And all is loveliness unmixed with guile ?
The spirit of the bloomy months is she,
Surrounded by the laughing hours:

Her very foot-prints glow with flowers!
And dared'st thou then successful hope to be?
Presumptuous man! thy boasted art how vain!
Too dull thy daring pencil's light

To shadow forth the vision bright,

Which flowed from Jove's own hand without a stain.
What mortal skill can paint her wond'rous eye
Or catch the smile of woman's face,
When all the virtues seem to grace

Bion, the pastoral poet, whose Idyllia are so celebrat-Its beams with something of divinity?
ed, lived about this time. It is probable that Moschus, also
a pastoral poet, was his contemporary-from the affec-
tion with which he mentions him.

Theocritus distinguished himself by his poetical compositions, of which 30 Idyllia and some epigrams remain-also, a ludicrous poem called Syrinx. Virgil imitated him. B. C. 280.

Aratus flourished now; he wrote a poem on Astronomy, also some hymns and epigrams.

Lycophron also lived at this time. The titles of 20 of his tragedies are preserved. There is extant a strange work of this poet, call Cassandra, or Alexandra,-it contains about 1500 verses, from whose obscurity the

author has been named Tenebrosus.

In the Anthology is preserved a most beautiful hymn to Jupiter, written by Cleanthes,-of whose writings none except this is preserved.

Manetho lived about this period,-an Egyptian who wrote, in the Greek language, a history of Egypt. The writers of the Universal History suspect some mistake in the passage of Eusebius which contains an account of this history.

This was also the age of Apollonius of Perga, the Geometrician. He composed a treatise on conic sections in eight books-seven of which remain. It is one of the most valuable remains of antiquity.

Nicander's writings were held in much estimation. Two of his poems, entitled Theriaca, and Alexipharniaca, are still extant. He is said to have written 5 books of Metamorphoses, which Ovid has imitated. He wrote also history. 150.

About this time flourished Polybius. He wrote an universal History in Greek, divided into 40 books;

None but Apollo should the task essay;
To him alone the pow'r is given

To blend the radiant hues of heaven,
And in the look the very soul portray;
Then hold, proud Artist! 'tis the God's command;
Eugenia's face requires thy master's hand!

MARCH COURT.

M.

Court day!-what an important day in Virginia!what a day of bustle and business!—what a requisition is made upon every mode of conveyance to the little metropolis of the county! How many debts are then to be paid!-how many to be put off!-Alas! how preponderate the latter! If a man says “I will pay you et Court," I give up the debt as hopeless, without the intervention of the la. But if court day be thus impor tant, how much more so is March court! That is the day when our candidates are expected home from Richmond to give an account of their stewardship; at least it used to be so, before the number of our legislators was lessened with a view of facilitating the transaction of business, and with a promise of shortening the sessions. But somehow or other, the public chest has such a multitude of charms, it seems now to be more impossible than ever to get away from it.

""Tis that capitol rising in grandeur on high,

Where bank notes, by thousands, bewitchingly lie," as the song says, which makes our sessions “of so long a life," and there is no practicable mode of preventing the evisceration of the aforesaid chest, but deferring the meeting of the Assembly to the month of February,

depth of a trombone"
Wherever a candidate is seen,
there is sure to be a jackass-surely, his long eared com-
panion does not mean to satirize the candidate! How-
ever that may be, you perceive the orator is obliged to
desist, overwhelmed perhaps by this thundering ap-
plause. Now the crowd opens to the right and left to
make way for some superb animal at full trot, some
Highflyer or Daredevil, who is thus exhibited ad captan-
dum vulgus, which seems the common purpose of the
candidate, the jack, and his more noble competitor. But

and thereby compelling the performance of the Commonwealth's business within the two months which would-intervene till the planting of corn. However, this is foreign to my present purpose, which is to describe a scene at which I have often gazed with infinite amusement. Would I had the power of Hogarth, that I might perpetuate the actings and doings of a March court; but having no turn that way, I must barely attempt to group the materials, and leave the painting to some regular artist to perfect. Picture to yourself, my gentle reader, our little town of Dumplinsburg, con-look-here approaches an object more terrible than all, sisting of a store, a tavern, and a blacksmith shop, the if we may judge from the dispersion of the crowd who common ingredients of a county town, with a court ensconce themselves behind every convenient corner and house and a jail in the foreground, as denoting the peep from their lurking holes, while the object of their superior respect to which they are entitled. Imagine a dread moves onward with saddle bags on arm, a pen benumber of roads diverging from the town like the radii hind his ear, and an inkhorn at his button hole. Lest of a circle, and upon these roads horsemen and footmen | some of my readers should be ignorant of this august of every imaginable kind, moving, helter skelter, to a personage, I must do as they do in England, where they single point of attraction. Justices and jurymen- take a shaggy dog, and dipping him in red paint, they counsellors and clients-planters and pettifoggers-con- dash him against the signboard and write underneath, stables and cakewomen-farmers and felons-horse- this is the Red Lion. This is the sheriff and he is sumdrovers and horse-jockies, and so on, all rushing onward moning his jury-"Mr. Buckskin, you, sir, dodging belike the logs and rubbish upon the current of some hind the blacksmith's shop, I summon you on the jury;" mighty river swollen by rains, hurrying pell mell to the ah, luckless wight! he is caught and obliged to succumb. vast ocean which is to swallow them all up-a simile In vain he begs to be let off,-"you must apply to the not altogether unapt, when we consider that the greater magistrates," is the surly reply. And if, reader, you part of these people have law business, and the law is could listen to what passes afterwards in the court house, universally allowed to be a vortex worse than the you might hear something like the following colloquy— Maelstrom. Direct the "fringed curtains of thine eyes" Judge. "What is your excuse, sir?" Juror. "I am a a little further to the main street-a street well entitled lawyer, sir." Judge. "Do you follow the law now, to the epithet main in all its significations, being in sir?" Juror. "No, sir, the law follows me." Judge. truth the principal and only street, and being moreover "Swear him, Mr. Clerk." Ah, there is a battle!!! see the political arena or cockpit, in which is settled pugi-how the crowd rushes to the spot-"who fights?"— listically, all the tough and knotty points which cannot "part 'em"-" stand off"-"fair play"-"let no man be adjusted by argument. See, on either side, rows of touch"-"hurrah, Dick"-"at him, Tom." An Englishnags of all sorts and sizes, from the skeleton just un-man thinking himself in England, bawls out, "sheriff, hitched from the plough, to the saucy, fat, impudent read the riot act"-a Justice comes up and commands pony, with roached mane and bobtail, and the sleek and the peace; inter arma silent leges; he is unceremonilong tailed pampered horse, whose coat proclaims his ously knocked down, and Justice is blind as ought to be breeding, all tied to the staggering fence which consti- the case. Two of the rioters now attempt to ride in at tutes the boundary of the street. Behold the motley the tavern door, and for awhile all Pandemonium seems assemblage within these limits hurrying to and fro with broke loose. To complete this picture, I must, like rapid strides, as if life were at stake. Who is he who Asmodeus, unroof the court house, and show you a slips about among the “greasy rogues," with outstretch-trial which I had the good fortune to witness. It was ed palm, and shaking as many hands as the Marquis La during the last war, when the vessels of Admiral GorFayette? It is the candidate for election, and he distri-don were making their way up the Potomac to Alexanbutes with liberal hand that barren chronicle of legislative dria, that a negro woman was arraigned for killing one deeds, denominated the list of laws, upon which are fed of her own sex and color; she had been committed for a people starving for information. This is a mere regis-murder, but the evidence went clearly to establish the ter of the titles of acts passed at the last session, but it deed to be manslaughter, inasmuch as it was done in is caught at with avidity by the sovereigns, who are sudden heat, and without malice aforethought. The highly offended if they do not come in for a share of the Attorney for the commonwealth waived the prosecution Delegate's bounty. The purchase and distribution of for murder, but quoted British authorities to show that these papers is a sort of carmen necessarium, or indis-she might be convicted of manslaughter, though compensable lesson, and it frequently happens that a mem-mitted for murder. The counsel for the accused arose, ber of the Assembly who has been absent from his post the whole winter, except upon the yeas and nays, acquires credit for his industry and attention to business in proportion to the magnitude of the bundle he distributes of this uninstructive record.

See now he mounts some elevated stand and harangues the gaping crowd, while a jackass led by his groom is braying at the top of his lungs just behind him. The jack takes in his breath, like Fay's Snorer, "with the tone of an octave flute, and lets it out with the profound

and in the most solemn manner, asked the court if it was a thing ever heard of, that an individual accused of one crime and acquitted, should be arraigned immediately for another, under the same prosecution? At intervals-boom-boom-boom went the British cannon— British authorities! exclaimed the counsel; British authorities, gentlemen!! Is there any one upon that bench so dead to the feelings of patriotism as at such a moment to listen to British authorities, when the British cannon is shaking the very walls of your court house to their

foundation? This appeal was too cogent to be resisted. | We may be sure that all his partisans

Up jumped one of the Justices and protested that it was not to be borne; let the prisoner go; away with your British authorities! The counsel for the accused, rubbed his hands and winked at the attorney; the attorney stood aghast; his astonishment was too great for utterance, and the negro was half way home before he recovered from his amazement.

NUGATOR.

THE DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE.

SCENE I.

ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE.

Robespierre and St. Just meeting.

St. Just.-Danton is gone!

Robespierre.-Then can I hope for all things, Since he is dead whose shadow darken'd me; Did the crowd cheer or hiss him?

St. Just.-Neither, sir:

Save a few voices, all look'd on in silence.

And personal friends are our most deadly foes,
And it were politic and kind in us

To spare their brains unnumbered schemes of vengeance
And seize at once the power to silence them.
To give them time were ruin; some there are
Whose love of gold is such that were it wet
With Danton's blood they would not less receive it.
These may be brib'd to league with us. Farewell.
Robes. (solus.) Blood on its base-upon its every step-.
Yea, on its very summit-still I climb :
But thickest darkness veils my destiny,

And standing as I do on a frail crag

Whence I must make one desperate spring to power,
To safety, honor, and unbounded wealth,
Or be as Danton is, why do I pause?
Why do I gaze back on my past career,

Upon those piles of headless, reeking dead?

Those whitening sculls? those streams of guiltless blood
Still smoking to the skies?-why think I hear
The shrieks, the groans, the smothered execrations

Robes.-Ha! did they so?--but when the engine rat- That swell the breeze, or seem as if I shrank

tled,

And the axe fell, didst thou perceive him shudder?

St. Just. He turn'd his face to the descending steel, And calmly smil'd. A low and ominous murmur Spread through the vast assemblage-then, in peace, They all dispers'd.

Robes. I did not wish for this.

St. Just.-No man, since Louis Capet-
Robes.-Say no more

My worthy friend-the friend of France and freedom--
Hasten to guard our interest in yon junto
Of fools and traitors, who, like timid sheep,
Nor fight nor fly, but huddle close together,

Till the wolves come to gorge themselves among them--
And in the evening, you and all my friends
Will meet me here, deliberate, and decide
To advance, or to recede. Be still, we cannot;
And hear me, dear St. Just-A man like you,
Firm and unflinching through so many trials,
Who sooner would behold this land manured
With carcases and moistened with their blood,
Than yielding food for feudal slaves to eat,
True to your party and to me your brother-
For so I would be term'd-has the best claim
That man can have to name his own reward
When France is all our own. Bethink you then
What post of honor or of profit suits you,
And tell me early, that I may provide,

To meet your views, a part in this great drama.

St. Just.-Citizen Robespierre-my hearty thanks; Financial Minister, by any name

Or trumpery title that may suit these times,

Is what I aim at-gratify me there

"Exert your dexterity to escape a scene on which you are
to appear once more ere you leave it forever. Your dic-
tatorial chair, if attained, will be only a step to the scaf-
fold, through a rabble who will spit on you as on Egalité.
You have treasure enough. I expect you with anxiety.
We will enjoy a hearty laugh at the expense of a people
as credulous as greedy of novelty."

He but little knows,
Who wrote this coward warning, what I am.
I love not life so well, nor hate mankind
So slightly as to fly this country now:
No, I will ride and rule the storm I have rais'd,
Or perish in its fury.

How entered you?

(Madame de Cabarus enters.) Ha! a woman!

Lady. Your civic guard were sleeping;
I pass'd unquestioned, and my fearful strait
Compels appeal to thee, great Robespierre!
Deny me not, and Heaven will grant thy prayer
In that dread hour when every mortal needs it.
Repulse me not, and heaven thus at the last
Will not repulse thee from eternal life.

I am the daughter of the unhappy Laurens,
Who hath but one day more to live on earth.
Oh, for the sake of all thou holdest dear,

(kneeling before him.)

And I am yours through more blood than would serve Spare to his only child the misery
To float the L'Orient.*

Robes.-'Tis well, St. Just,

But wherefore citizen me? I have not used

The term to you-we are not strangers here.

Of seeing perish thus her much lov'd sire.
His head is white with age-let it not fall
Beneath yon dreadful axe. Through sixty years

A peaceful and reproachless

St. Just.-Pardon me, sir, (or Sire, even as you please) Thy word can save him.

The cant of Jacobins infects my tongue,

I had no meaning farther. One word more
Before we part-now Danton is cut off,

life he led.

Speak, oh speak that word,
For our Redeemer's sake redeem his life,

And child and father both shall bless thee ever.
Robes. (aside.) I know her now-the chosen of Tallien

* A French line of battle ship. Burnt at the battle of Aboukir. How beautiful in tears! A noble dame

And worthy to be mine. 'Twould sting his heart
To lose his mistress ere I take his head;
If I would bribe her passions or her fears,
As well I trust I can, I must be speedy.
Those drunken guards-should any see her here,
Then what a tale to spread on Robespierre,
The chaste, the incorruptible, forsooth-

(coldly approaching her.)
Lady, I may not save your father's life-
Duty forbids-he holds back evidence
Which would convict Tallien; nay, do not kneel,
I cannot interfere.

Daughter.-Oh, say not so.

He is too peaceful for intrigues or plotters—
Too old, too helpless for their trust or aid.

Oh, for the filial love thou bearest thy sire,

Thy reverence for his years

Robes. If he were living

And spoke in thy behalf, it were in vain.

Meet me, and mine, and thy ten thousand victims,
Before God's judgment seat, ere two days pass.
(the guards take her out.)

Robes. She must have thought in sooth I was a
Christian.

SCENE II.

TALLIEN'S HOUSE.

Tallien with a letter in his hand.

In prison!-In his power!-to die to-morrow!
My body trembles and my senses reel.
This is a just and fearful retribution-
Would it were on my head alone! Oh Heaven,
Spare but this angel woman and her father,
And let me die-or might my life be pardon'd,
The criminal excess to which these times
Have hurried my rash hand and wilful heart,
I will atone to outrag'd human nature,
To her and to my country. Wretched France!

Daughter. For the dear mother's sake who gave thee Once the fair home of music and of mirth,

birth

And suffer'd agony that thou might'st live—

So torn, so harrassed by these factions now,
That even the wise and good of other lands

Robes.-Not if her voice could hail me from the tomb, Cannot believe a patriot breathes in this!

And plead in thy own words to save his life.

Daughter.-If thou hast hope or mercy-
Robes.-I have neither.

Rise and depart while you are safe-yet stay,
One path to his redemption still is open-
It leads to yonder chamber-Ha! I see
Thou understandest me.

Daughter.-I trust I do not.

I hope that Heaven beholds not-Earth contains not
A being capable of such an offer.

Robes. And dare you scorn me, knowing who I am?
Bethink you where you stand-your sire-and lover-
And hear my offer. Life and wealth for them,
Jewels and splendor and supremacy

Shall wait on thee-no dame shall breathe in France
But bends the knee before thee.

Daughter.-Let him die.

Better he perish now than live to curse

His daughter for dishonor. Fare you well.
There is a time for all things, and the hour
May come when thou wilt think of this again.

Robes. (laughing.) Ha! ha! Wouldst thou depart to

spread this tale?

Never, save to such ears as will not trust thee!
Choose on the spot between thy father's death,
Thy lover's and thine own, or my proposal.
Daughter.-My choice is made, let me rejoin my sire.
Robes.-I'll furnish thee a passport-guards awake!
(seizing her arm.)
Without there! murder! treason! guards come hither!
(Jacobins rush in and seize her.)
A watchful crew ye are, to leave me thus
To perish like Marât by the assassins;
See that you guard her well, and keep this weapon
Which, but I wrench'd it from her, would have slain me.
Daughter. And thus my father dies and one as dear.
'Tis joy to suffer with them, though I perish.
I feel assured thou canst not triumph long-
And I adjure thee by the Heaven thou hast scorn'd,
Whose lingering fires are not yet launch'd against thee,
And by the Earth thou cumberest, which hath not
Yet opened to entomb thee living, come,

And she complains that I am grown a craven!
My acts of late may justify the thought,
But let to-morrow show how much I fear him.
(A Servant enters.)

Servant-The Minister of Police-
Tallien.-Attend him hither-

Fouché-perhaps to sound me; let him try

I yet may baffle him, and one more fatal

(Fouché enters.)

Fouché. So you are in the scales with Robespierre,
And which do you expect will kick the beam?
Tallien.—Why should you think that I will stake my

power,

Friends, interest, and life, in useless efforts
To thwart the destined ruler of the land?
Fouché.-Yourself have told me so. I did but mean
That he had risk'd his power and party strength
Against your life. You mean to strike at his.
Your faltering voice and startled looks betray
The secret of your heart, though sooth to say,
I knew it all before.

Tallien.-You see too far,

And are for once wise over much, Monsieur;

I never sought to oppose your great colleague,
But would conciliate him if I might.

Fouché. (sternly.) And do you hope to throw dust in
my eyes?

What means this note from Madame de Cabarus
Now in your bosom-sent to you this morning-
And this your answer? (producing a billet.) Have I
fathom'd you?

The mystic writing on the palace wall
Scar'd not Belshazzar more than this does you.
(Tallien goes to the door.)
Nay, never call your men or make those signals,
I have foreseen the worst that you can do.
Tallien.-Chief of Police, while you are in this house
Your life is in my hands-when you are gone,
Mine is in yours. Now tell me why you came?
Fouché. To show you that I know of your designs.
Tallion.-And is that all?

Fouché-Not quite. To offer service