small platform of boards, about half a foot from the floor, which served as the prisoner's bed. In the wall of the cell was a small aperture, by which the light might be made to stream in upon the prisoner, when the jailor did not wish to enter, simply by placing the lamp in an opposite niche in the passage. Here crime, despair, madness, and sometimes innocence, have dwelt. Horrible secrets seemed to hover about its roof, and float in its air, and to be ready to break upon me from every stone of the dungeon. I longed, yet trembled, to hear them. But silent they are, and silent they will remain, till that day when "the sea shall give up its dead." There are yet lower dungeons, deep beneath water-mark, but I was told that these are now walled up.

We emerged again upon the marble piazzetta; and more welcome than ever was the bright light, and the noble grace of the buildings. At its southern extremity, where the piazzetta looks out upon the Adriatic, are two stately granite columns; the one surmounted by St Theodore, and the other by the lion of St Mark. These are the two gods of Venice. They were to the Republic what the two calves were to Israel,— their all-powerful protectors; and so devoutly did the Venetians worship them, that even the god of the Seven Hills became jealous of them. "The Venetians in general care little about God," says an old traveller, "less about the Pope, but a great deal about St Mark." St Theodore sheltered the Republic in its infancy; but when it grew to greatness, it deemed it unbecoming its dignity to have only a subordinate for its tutelar deity. Accordingly, Venice sought and obtained a god of the first water. The Republic brought over the body of St Mark, enshrined it in a magnificent church, and left its former patron no alternative but to cross the Lagunes, or occupy a second place.

Before bidding adieu to the piazza of St Mark, around which there hovers so many historic memories, and which every style of architecture, from the Greek and the Byzantine down to the Gotho-Italian, has met to decorate, and which, we may add, in point of noble grace and chaste beauty is perhaps not excelled in the world, we must be allowed to mention one object, which appeared to us strangely out of keeping with the spot and its edifices. It is the tall Gothic tower that rises opposite the Byzantine front of S. Mark's Cathedral. It attains a height of upwards of three hundred feet, and is used for various purposes, which, however, it could serve equally well in some other part of Venice. It strikes one the more, that it is the one deformity of the place. It reminded me of the entrance of a clown at a royal levee, or the appearance of harlequin in a tragedy.

Betaking ourselves again to a gondola, and gliding noiselessly along the grand canal,—

"For silent rows the songless gondolier,—"

we visited the Academia delle Belle Arte. It resembled a great and elaborately compiled work on painting, and I could there read off the history of the rise and progress of the art in Venice. The several galleries were arranged, like the successive chapters of a book, in chronological order, beginning with the infancy of the art, and going on to its full noon, under the great masters of the Lombard school,-Titian, Paul Veronese, Tintoretto, and others. The pictures of the inner saloons were truly magnificent; but on these I do not dwell.

Let us sit down here, in the midst of the seas, and meditate a little on the great moral of Venice. We shall let the poet state the case :

"Her daughters had their dowers

From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.

In purple was she robed, and of her feast

Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased."

But now, after power, wealth, empire, have come corruption, slavery, ruin; and Venice,

course.

"Her thirteen hundred years of freedom done,
Sinks, like a sea-weed, into whence she rose."

But the course which Venice has run is that of all States which have yet appeared in the world. History is but a roll of defunct empires, whose career has been alike; and Venice and Rome are but the latest names on the list. Egypt, Chaldea, Tyre, Greece, Rome,―to all, as if by an inevitable law, there came, after the day of civilization and empire, the night of barbarism and slavery. This has been repeated again and again, till the world has come to accept of it as its established We see States emerging from infancy and weakness slowly and laboriously, becoming rich, enlightened, powerful; and the moment they seemed to have perfected their civilization, and consolidated their power, they begin to fall. The past history of our race is but a history of efforts, successful up to a certain point, but only to a certain point; for whenever that point has been reached, all the fruits of past labour,—all the accumulations of legislators, philosophers, and warriors,— have been swept away, and the human family have found that they had to begin the same laborious process over again,—to toil upwards from the same gulph, to be overtaken by the same disaster. History has been simply a series of everrecurring cycles, ending in barbarism. This is a discouraging aspect of human affairs, and throws a doubtful shadow upon

them. The Etrurian tombs speak of an era of civilization and power succeeded by barbarism. The mounds of Nineveh speak of a similar revolution. The day of Greek glory sank at last in unbroken night. At the fall of the Roman empire, barbarism overspread Europe; and now the cycle appears to have come round to the nations of modern Europe. Since the middle of last century there has been a marked and fearfully rapid decline in all the States of continental Europe. The entire region south of the Alps, including the once powerful kingdoms of Italy and Spain, is sunk in slavery and barbarism. France alone retains its civilization; but how long is it likely to retain it, with its strength undermined by revolution, and its liberties completely prostrated? Niebuhr has given expression in his works to his decided opinion, that the dark ages are returning. And are we not at this moment witnessing an attempted repetition of the Gothic invasion of the fourth century, in the barbarian north, which is pressing with ever-growing weight upon the feeble barrier of the East?

"Nations melt

From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt

The sunshine for a while, and downward go

Like lauwine loosen'd from the mountain's belt."

But why is this? It would almost seem, when we look at these examples and facts, as if there were some malignant influence sporting with the world's progress,- -some adverse power fighting against man, baulking all his efforts at self-advancement, and compelling him, Sysiphus-like, to roll the stone eternally. Has the Creator set limits to the life of kingdoms, as to that of man? Certain it is, they have seldom survived their twelfth century. The most part have died at or about their

twelve hundred and sixtieth year. Is this t and-ten" of nations, beyond which they cann

The common explanation of the death of power begets wealth, wealth luxury, and l and ruin. But we are unable to accept this account of the matter. It appears a mere fact, not a solution of it. It is evidently the dence that nations should live happily in the ment of all good things; and that every hum have all that is good for him, of what the eart the labour of man can create. Then, why shoul the other accessories of power, have so uniform and dissolving effect upon society? This the leaves unexplained. There is no necessary con the enjoyment of abundance and the corrupti The Creator surely has not ordained laws whic sarily result in the death of society.

The real solution, we think, it is not difficul religions, one excepted, which have hitherto ap world, have been unable to hold the balance be tellect and the conscience beyond a certain stage fore, all kingdoms which have arisen hitherto hav to exist beyond a certain term. So long as a childhood, a false religion affords room enough play of its intellect. Its religion being regardeauthoritative, the conscience of the nation is con So long as conscience is upheld, law has authorit and social virtue is maintained, and the nation go ing power, amassing wealth, and increasing know whenever it attains a certain stage of enlightencertain power of independent thinking, it begins the claims of that religion which formerly awed