Like Washington and John Jay, he is admired for his love of religion, blended with the other virtues which appear so numerous and conspicuous throughout his whole public career.

In closing this brief sketch we would recommend to the young the study of Mr. Adams's character, both as a statesman and scholar. His political history is identified, and nearly coeval with that of our government. As a statesman and patriot he was known and beloved by Washington, by Jefferson and Jackson. His public life will therefore be read not simply by the party to which he was politically attached, but be studied by all. If the images of distinguished ancestors placed before the eyes of the Roman youth could stimulate them to emulate their virtues, surely the deeds of such a man as John Quincy Adams, imaged as he is on our hearts, and interwoven with our very thoughts, will impel the young for ward in a career of virtuous usefulness.

row.

Few men have gained a more permanent hold on the affections of his countrymen than Mr. Adams. The announcement of his death so sudden and unexpected, mantled every heart with sorA nation mourned his departure and continues to mourn. Eulogies are pronounced before public bodies and from the sacred desk. Never since the death of Washington has the public grief been more general. It is fit that it be so. The country has lost in his death a most faithful servant, one who has labored to upbuild her fame from the dawn of our political existence, given character to our civil and literary institutions, and finally has died while discharging the duties of the State.

Private circles mourn his departure. In society he was affable, communicative, pleasant, and often humorous. He had a fund of anecdote, and knew how to entertain others by drawing from it, at proper times. He loved to talk of Quincy and the stirring scenes of his childhood. These were interesting to others, because they are associated with our early struggles for freedom, and form a part of our country's history. He often spoke with pe. culiar tenderness and affection, even in old age, of his accomplished mother, who, endowed with almost heroic virtue, blended with christian dispositions, gave to his mind its first impulse. On one occasion he speaks of her in a public address thus:

"It is due to gratitude and nature, that I should acknowledge and avow, that such as I have been, whatever it was-that such as I am whatever it is, and such as I hope to be in all futurity, must be ascribed, under Providence to the precepts and example of my mother."

Such a testimonial is alike worthy of the venerable son and his venerable mother. It shows that love of public duties had not usurped the place of filial affection, and that in his bosom dwelt those finer feelings, those generous emotions that throw a charm around domestic circles, and render home the abode of superlative earthly happiness. Though we participate largely in the common sorrow that pervades the nation, on account of his decease, this

nearer view derived from the contemplation of his greatness, particularly of his social endearments, seems to draw us into the immediate circle in which he moved, to share the greater grief that overwhelms them.

He has died; but his deeds will never die. They live on the records of his country's history, entwined with the very fabric of our government and its free institutions.

The epitaph of Adams, as devoted to the cause of freedom, may be well expressed in the language of Milton, in his epon Euripides.

"This is true liberty, when freeborn men
Having advise the public may speak free:

Which he who can and will deserves high praise:

Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace,

What can be a juster in a State than this?”

His remains rest in the family vault at Quincy, having been borne thither in solemn procession from the Capitol of the Nation, where he expired. His spirit is in heaven in communion with Washington, and other departed patriots who loved justice and hated iniquity. The sentiment which pervades the country in regard to his removal from among us, cannot be better expressed than in the beautiful words of Washington's eulogist, and we trust they will not be considered inappropriate in their application to one who approached so near to the excellence of the "Father of his country" as to be reckoned of kindred spirit with him.

"For himself, he had lived long enough to life and to glory; for his fellow citizens, if their prayers could have been answered, he would have been immortal."

WHY DOST THOU LINGER, SPRING?

BY LILY GRAHAM.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? Young hearts are pining
To feel thy breath on their throbbing brows,

To gather flowers in thy pleasant woodlands,
And hear thy birds 'mid the forest boughs.

Why dost thou loiter, Spring? Bright heads are drooping,
Languishing here where the dark walls frown;

Cheeks like the rose-leaf have now grown pallid,
Prisoned so long in the gloomy town.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? We are weary waiting;
Grieved and saddened by thy delay;

Oft do we chide thy tardy coming,

Watching so longingly, day by day,

For the grass to grow greener on the terrace,
For the swallow to build beneath our eaves,
For the buds to swell on the low vine branches,
Bursting at last into perfect leaves.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? If through the casement
But a fitful breath of the south wind sighs,

If only a gleaming of brighter sunshine

Mid the gloomy shadows in beauty lies.
Our hearts thrill high with such hopeful longings,
As come to the exile only in dreams,

When his native land in a vision haunts him,

With its breezy glades and its rushing streams.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? Wearily passing
On leaden wings are the slow hours borne,
And gladly we watch each day's declining,
Hoping that thou wilt come with the morn;
That the robin will greet our happy waking,

And the unchained brook with its merry song,
Through the gladden'd fields will be brightly sweeping,
Rousing the echoes that were hushed so long.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? Too long hast thou loitered,
Too long hast thou left us in Winter's chain;

Impatiently watching we wait thy coming,

As the parched bud waits for the gentle rain;
Stilling our heart's breath we list for the tokens,
The welcome heralds that thou art near,
But the muffled snow-flakes so slowly falling,
Or the rushing whirlwind are all we hear.

Why dost thou linger, Spring? Why wilt thou loiter?
O! let us not watch and hope in vain:
We have grown so weary for thy coming,
Gladden the earth with thy smiles again!
Come! with thy soft and transparent leaflets,
Brightening the boughs whereon they cling;
Come with thy flowers-thy holy flowers!

Why dost thou linger-thrice blessed Spring?

Albany, March, 1848.

CLASSIC VAGARIES.

NO. VIII.

THE ROMAN SENATE HOUSE.

You cannot leave Rome without visiting the Senate House: "the temple of everything Romans call sacred, of distinction, of intelligence, of public deliberation; the crown of the city, the altar of the allied nations, the haven of mankind, a seat which the whole Roman people have yielded up to be sacred to one order." For such is the stream of epithets which the enthusiastic Cicero pours out in behalf of the arena, whereupon so many of the triumphs of his eloquence were won. In another place he calls it "the citadel of the world."

But you must not expect to find the senate chamber in the Capitol. There is no apartment set off for the legislative body within its gilded walls. However, the senate does meet there on extraordinary emergencies. When the monster Caligula died, the whole Roman people, disgusted with his enormities, loathed the name of king. The senate took the lead in the popular discontent, refused to assemble in the Senate House of Julius Cæsar, on account of its royal name, and would hold its session in the CAPITOL alone. Within its august area, some senators made a motion to blot out the memory of the Caesars, and raze their temples to the ground.

Nor need you look for a single edifice, which is, par excellence, the Senate House. Senate Houses are common in Rome. Sometimes the senate is even held under the open sky, when some frightful prodigy, as the articulate utterance of words by an ox, is announced. At times also, the tents of an army without the gates of the city form a senate chamber, in which the grave fathers of the state deliberate quite as solemnly as within the consecrated walls of the Curia Hostilia. As a commissioned general, in active service, can never be admitted within the city gates, the senate gives him audience within the enclosure of his own camp, surrounded by an army glistening with brazen sheen. Thus victorious commanders petition to be admitted to the city in triumph, under arches and among decorated houses, and through a cheering populace. Foreign ambassadors, too, are met by a migratory legislature, outside of the city walls, whether they come in time of peace or war.

You have heard of the Senate House of Hostilius; so called because it was built by the third king of Rome. You will look for it in vain. It has been burned down, and with it was consumed the huge picture of Messala's victory over Hiero, who led

the Carthaginians in a great battle which took place in Sicily.* On its site Augustus has reared the Senate House of Julius Cæsar. Another was famous once. Cato erected it, and it adjoins his Royal Colonnade, the Court House of old Rome. But the destructive element, which has twice scathed the Roman Capitol, and swept away the Curia Hostilia, has allowed no trace of Cato's Senate House to remain. You know the history of the conflagragration, perhaps. The deadly enmity of Milo and Clodius was at last brought to a fatal issue by an unpremeditated meeting of the twain, each accompanied by an armed escort on the Appian way. Defiances were exchanged between certain of their retainers-the Montagues and Capulets of this ancient city-and blows ensued. The affray soon involved the whole party, and Clodius fell. The partizans of Clodius seized the ghastly corpse, carried it to Rome, even into the Senate House itself. The senate was in session: Coelius was speaking. The infuriated mob, rushing around the market place with flashing swords and unearthly cries, made an extemporaneous funeral pyre out of the furniture of the senate chamber, and burned the body upon it. The consequence of such a frenzy was natural enough. The flames soon wreathed the majestic pillars of the Royal Colonnade and the Senate House, reducing both to ashes.

Do you ask me to take you to Pompey's Senate House ? Pompey, like Cromwell, was king under another name, when he filled Rome with the pageantry of his greatness. He has done more to beautify the city than any emperor. But he brought to pass some strange anomalies. For instance, to perfect the coup d'œil presented by his Theatre, he built a Senate House! But do not fancy that the senate is not respected at Rome. The melancholy tragedy of which that very edifice was the scene, is enough to stifle such a thought. It was there that Cæsar fell. It was not until the ambitious emperor showed disrespect to the ROMAN SENATE, that his life was forfeited.

Julius Cæsar had many generous impulses and exalted private. affections. But his pride, intensified by a succession of glorious achievements, made him a tyrant. He had accepted a perpetual dictatorship, a permanent consulship, the name of emperor, a statue among the ancient kings, an elevated platform in the theatre, divine honors, a gilded seat in the senate house, a statuelitter at the processions of the circus-an honor due to divinities alone-temples, altars, a shrine, a priest; he had reduced the number of elections; he had appointed officers who ought to have been chosen by the people; he had admitted semi-barbarous Gauls-the Mexicans of the Roman empire-to the rank of senators; he had appointed favorite slaves to be the treasurers and

National pictures adorned the walls of the Roman as well as the American Capitol.

†This admission of an inferior race to the senatorial body was very unpopular. A burlesque law was introduced before an assemblage of the people, to