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over her family, dealing justly with all, and living but to make others happy
- you must believe me. I seek and love a calmer, humbler lot. This, Piso, is the temple of Zenobia. Let us enter.'
We approached and entered. It was a small building, after the model of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli, constructed of the most beautiful marbles, and adorned with statues. Within, were the seats on which the queen was accustomed to recline, and an ample table, covered with her favorite authors, and the materials of writing.
• It is here,' said Julia, “that, seated with my mother, we listen to the eloquence of Longinus, while he unfolds the beauties of the Greek or Roman learning; or, together with him, read the most famous works of former ages. With Homer, Thucydides, and Sophocles for our companions, we have here passed precious hours and days, and have the while happily forgotten the heavy burden of a nation's cares. I have forgotten them; not so Zenobia. They are her life, and from all we have read would she ever draw somewhat that should be of service to her in the duties of her great office.'
Returning to the surrounding portico, we stood and for a time enjoyed in silence the calm beauty of the scene.
As we stood thus, Julia gazing upon the objects around us, or lost in thought, I — must I say it ? seeing scarce any thing but her, and thinking only of her -- as we stood thus, shouts of merry laughter came to us, borne upon the breeze, and roused us from our reverie.
• These sounds,' said I,. cannot come from the palace; it is too far, unless these winding walks have deceived me.
They are the voices,' said Julia, “I am almost sure, of Livia and Faustula, and the young Cæsars. They seem to be engaged in some sport near the palace. Shall we join them ??
• Let us do so,' said I.
So we moved toward that quarter of the gardens whence the sounds proceeded. A high wall at length separated us from those whom we sought. But reaching a gate, we passed through and entered upon a lawn covered as it seemed with children, slaves, and the various inmates of the palace. Here, mingled among the motley company, we at once perceived the queen, and Longinus and Fausta, together with many of those whom we had sat with at the banquet. The centre of attraction, and the cause of the loud shouts of laughter which continually arose, was a small white elephant with which the young princes and princes. ses were amusing themselves. He had evidently been trained to the part he had to perform, for nothing could be more expert than the manner in which he went through his various tricks. Sometimes he chased them and pretended difficulty in overtaking them; then he would affect to stumble, and so fall and roll upon the ground; then springing quickly upon his feet, he would surprise some one or other lurking near him, and seizing him with his trunk would hold him fast, or first whirling him in the air, then seat him upon his back, and march gravely round the lawn, the rest of the children following and shouting; then releasing his prisoner, he would lay himself upon the ground, while all together would fearlessly climb upon his back, till it was covered, when he would either suddenly shake his huge body, so that one after another they all rolled off, or he would attempt to rise slowly upon his legs, in doing which, nearly all would slip from off his slanting back, and only
two or three succeed in keeping their places. And other sportive tricks, more than it would be worth while for me to recount, did he perform for the amusement of his play-fellows. And beautiful was it to see the carefulness with which he trod and moved, lest any harm might come to those children. His especial favorite was the little flaxen-haired Faustula. He was never weary with caressing her, taking her on his trunk, and bearing her about, and when he set her down, would wait to see that she was fairly on her little feet and safe, before he would return to his gambols. Her voice calling out 'Sapor, Sapor,' was sure to bring him to her, when, what with words and signs, he soon comprehended what it was she wanted. I myself came in unwittingly for a share of the sport. For as Faustula came bounding by me, I did as those are so apt to do who know little of children - I suddenly extended my arms and caught her. She, finding herself seized and in the arms of one she knew not, thought, as children will think, that she was already borne a thousand leagues from her home, and naturally screamed; whereupon at the instant, I felt myself taken round the legs by a force greater than that of a man, and which drew them together with such violence that instinctively I dropped the child, and at the same time cried out with pain. Julia, standing next me, incontinently slapped his trunk, twisted round me, with her hand, at which, leaving me, he wound it lightly round her waist, and held her his close prisoner. Great laughter from the children and the slaves testified their joy at seeing their elders, equally with themselves, in the power of the elephant. Milo being of the number, and in his foolish exhilaration and sportive approbation of Sapor's feats having gone up to him and patted him on his side, the beast, taking as an affront that plebeian salutation, quickly turned upon him, and taking him by one of his feet held him, in that displeasing manner his head hanging down — and paraded leisurely round the green, Milo making the while hideous outcry, and the whole company, especially the slaves and menials, filling the air with screams of laughter. At length Vabalathus, thinking that Milo might be injured, called out to Sapor, who thereupon released him, and he rising and adjusting his dress, was heard to affirm, that it had never happened so while he was in the service of Gallienus.
Satisfied, now, with the amusements of the evening, and the pleasures of the day, we parted from one another, filled with quite different sentiments from those which had possessed us in the morning. Do members of this great human family ever meet each other in social converse, and freely open their hearts, without a new and better strength being given to the bonds which hold in their embrace the peace and happiness of society? To love each other, I think we chiefly need but to know each other. Ignorance begets suspicion, suspicion dislike or hatred, and so we live as strangers and enemies, when knowledge would have led to intimacy and friendship. Farewell!
Star of my hope !- thy cheering ray
Still o'er my path be smiling,
My breast of wo beguiling!
And hope, have all resigned me,
For her I leave behind me!
C. W. E.
It is a positive waste of money, to expend it for sight-seeing in a city like this, where there is so much of the curious and strange to be seen, merely for the looking at them. Who would give a dollar to see Miss Phillips, Wallack, or Jack Reeve, when tragedy, melo-drama, and genteel and low comedy, are performing every evening, in almost every street of the city? What is the mimic warfare, compared with the actual fight? What “the counterfeit presentment of wo,' to the real wretchedness that stares one in the face at every corner ? What the spirited representations of Rattle,' or • Dick Dashall,' on the stage, to
“ the living, breathing, feeling reality to be met with in Broadway after night-fall? What the unfinished gentleman' of Reeve, to the unfinished gentlemen the Dogberrys present to the acquaintance of Mr. Justice Hopson of a morning ? What the · Jemmy Twitcher' of Sefton, to the loafers and snoozlers a walk before sunrise in the Park will present to our observation? Who would give the strolling Savoyard a penny to see his monkey dance, when the fantastic tricks of ten thousand apes amuse him at every turn? Who would expend a quarter of a dollar at the Menagerie, when there is a biped to be seen at every step. who, in his various humors, presents a specimen of the whole collection; who in his raging exceeds the lion, in ferocity the tiger, in brutality the bear, in insensibility the rhinoceros — who in cruelty, bloodthirstiness, fierceness, and yet even in gentleness, docility, meekness, and fondness, furnishes in himself a parailel to the whole range of the brute creation ?
*I love the world, and the things thereof.' I love my fellow-creatures. I love, admire, laugh at, reverence, and even adore them, according to the form in which they present themselves to me. I like to see them in their moments of leisure and recreation, in their hours of labor and business. There is instruction to be gained from the study of them when their passions are aroused, and their peculiarities are developed — when deep emotions shake their frames, and their good or evil qualities are brought out - when pleasure lulls them, when suffering wrings them,
when joy lights up, and hope beams upon their faces, and when despair chills, and they are hand in hand with misery and want.
One of my chief pleasures is, at the close of the day, to go forth into the street, and meet and mingle in the crowds that throng it, on their thousand various pursuits of business and pleasure; "to be with them, and yet not of them' —- to see, and yet not be seen - to observe, and yet not be observed - to know and comprehend, and yet not be known or comprehended.
It was for the purpose of indulging this disposition, that last evening, an hour before dark, I stepped into Broadway, and in a moment was lost in the throng that covered the pavement of that magnificent thoroughfare. I walked carelessly and leisurely along - sometimes jostled by a bewhiskered beau, sometimes propelled onward by the protuberant paunch of a fat citizen, and then again brushed by the projecting sleeve of a city belle — until I arrived at Stewart's. I always make it a point to stop there for a few moments. It is a superb shop, and at this time of day it is generally filled with pretty faces and lovely forms. I sometimes enter and purchase a pair of gloves, or some such matter - but not very often, for the spruce clerks do not like to be diverted from their more profitable and certainly more interesting customers. I do not wonder at it — for, independent of the profit of the thing, it is vastly more pleasant to praise the quality and extol the beauties of a lace veil to a young, pretty, hesitating, doubting girl, than to sell a pair of black gloves to an elderly gentleman, of no particular appearance.
As I was saying, I had stopped for a moment at Stewart's, and was just about to continue my onward pace, when a young girl stepped out of the store, and tripped along with dainty steps before me.
I was 'younger once than I am now,' but I am not so old that I do not warm up at the sight of a really pretty face, into a very respectable enthusiasm. I look upon beauty as an old connoiseur would upon a rare painting, and I feel as much real satisfaction on the discovery of a face that comes up to my standard, as my friend Paff would at stumbling on a long-lost Raphael. I feel that it is something gained to the whole world — my mind is possessed of a new conception of loveliness — there is another sweet image for my memory to dwell upon. It matters not to me that I am neither the father, the brother, or the lover of such a creature. It is sufficient that I can occasionally gratify myself by looking at her — that she will come to me in my sleep — that she will visit me in my waking dreams - and that I shall hereafter know such a creature • lives, and breathes, and has a being.'
It was with a quickened pulse that I contemplated the graceful, airy figure before me. Some sixteen summers, (the winters had not permitted to visit her,) had shed their
influence over the young girl. Each had brought to her its fairest gifts, and added a ripening charm. The next would have found her a woman, full, rounded, and perfect in loveliness. Time could then have added nothing to her charms; he could have done her then no better office than to forget her. She had seen sixteen summers — sixteen such summers as occur but once in a woman's life sixteen summers without care, or cross, or vexation. Her nursery had been a fairy spot, her childhood a succession of joys, and her girlhood had been as calm and quiet as her own peaceful slumbers, and as beautiful as her young dreams.
I am an elderly and sedate-looking personage, and my presence, if it carries with it no pleasure to the young, certainly has nothing in it repulsive or startling to them.
I drew near to the young girl, for the atmosphere of purity is pleasant to me. Such a being as she now is I have once loved
but it is many years since, and time has worked sad changes in my feelings meanwhile. I have knelt at many a shrine since I breathed my first trembling avowal of affection. I have tried to be tender, but the remembrance of my early and lost love has chilled the homage that was only on my lips. I have even summoned up the recollection of her, in the hope that it would give softness to my tones, and music to my words. I have tried to catch inspiration from the memory of what I once felt, and to light up a new flame from the embers of the old; but the fire would not enkindle- the inspiration would not flow; there was more of sarcasm than love in my observations, more of bitterness than tenderness in my