when they set up for a real serenade all by themselves.

We all know that the Italian orchestras undertake to describe storms, tempests, and battles-shipwrecks, love and murder-by music. If one of the opera companies will go to Okefonoco-listen to the performances there-and come back and give us a good imitation, I engage that they shall make their fortune. Mr. Southey undertook to tell about the cataract of Lodore, and he attempted to convey some notion of the commotion of the waters by the gushing of his lines, and he succeeded very well; but how can any one put the puffing of alligators into rhyme? Old Homer, I am told, has imitated frogs in Greek-but the thing is scarcely possible in English.

After all I have said, gentle reader, I shall not attempt to describe the songs of the swamps aforesaid. This I must leave to yourself. Suppose that you are in Georgia, or Florida, or Louisiana; suppose that it is sunset, of a summer evening. A swampy thicket is before you; around are gigantic plants, of a thousand forms, and gaudy flowers of many hues; gnats, mosquitoes and gallinippers, fill the air, and sting you at every available point. Fire-flies begin to glitter. On every hand, as the darkness falls, the scene around becomes illuminated with myriads of these fleeting meteors.

A strange, loud sound bursts suddenly from a bush at your very ear, exclaiming, "chuck-will's-widow!" It is repeated-slowly at first-and then more rapidly. Pretty soon another voice, exclaims, "whippoorwill." "Confound us! confound us!" says a croaking throat in the mud. "Botheration! botheration!" says one at a distance. "Thief! thief!" cries another. Then fifty voices break out, and run into each other like the notes of a watchman's rattle. The din rises higher and higher. More voices are added to the

chorus, while every one speaks louder and quicker and ever and anon, the deep voice of the alligator is distinctly heard, betwixt a grunt and guffauseeming like the notes of the kettledrum, or double bass, to this wonderful concert of birds and reptiles, when all by themselves!

PROFANE SWEARING.-I believe there never was a man who made a fortune by common swearing. It often appears that men pay for swearing, but it seldom happens that they are paid for it. It is not easy to perceive what honor or credit is connected with it. Does any man receive promotion because he is a notable blusterer ? Or is any man advanced to dignity because he is expert at profane swearing? Never.

Low must be the character which such impertinence will exalt; high must be the character which such impertinence will not degrade. Inexcusable, therefore, is the vice which has neither reason nor passion to support it. The drunkard has his cups; the satirist his revenge; the ambitious man his preferments; the miser his gold: but the common swearer has nothing; he is a fool at large, sells his soul for nought, and drudges in the service of the devil, gratis.

Swearing is void of all plea; it is not the native offspring of the soul, nor interwoven with the texture of the body, nor, anyhow, allied to our frame. For, as Tillotson expresses it, though some men pour out oaths as if they were nat ural, yet no man was ever born of a swearing constitution." But it is a custom, a low and paltry custom, picked up by low and paltry spirits who have no sense of honor, no regard to decency, but are forced to substitute some rhapsody of nonsense to supply the vacancy of good sense. Hence the silliness of the practice can only be equalled by the silliness of those who adopt it.-Lamont.

DURING the time of the Roman commonwealth, there lived a noble warrior, whose name was Caius Marcius. He was scarcely less remarkable for the strength and symmetry of his body, than for the heroic magnanimity of his mind. From his earliest youth, he had been trained to feats of war; and his mother, who was a very noble matron, was anxious that he should be distinguished not only for his feats of arms, but for those other heroic qualities, which make a man truly great-such as justice, mercy, truth, honor, integrity, and disinterestedness. When Caius Marcius grew up, he soon proved to his mother that her good lessons had not been thrown away upon him; for, on occasion of an assault upon the town of Corioli,

he distinguished himself with such extraordinary bravery, as to astonish all those who witnessed his exploits. Having headed a party which broke through the gates of the city, he entered it; but the gates being suddenly shut, Caius Marcius was left alone within the walls, surrounded by a host of enemies. Resolving to sell his life dearly, he made such an attack upon those within the walls, that they fled, and he was enabled to re-open the gates and let in his companions, who immediately took possession of the city.

After this brave action, honors and rewards would have been heaped upon Caius Marcius, but he refused them all, with the exception of a horse, the prisoners he had taken with his own hands,

and the life of a person in the city, of whom he had formerly been the guest. In addition to this, he wished to take the surname of Coriolanus, as a remembrance of his victory, which was also granted him.

Coriolanus from this time signalized himself in a variety of battles, and always displayed the same disinterestedness and magnanimity. As he was above every mean act himself, he could not bear to see meanness in others; and observing the wickedness of the rich, and the hollow-hearted friendship of the common people, he despised both, and thus obtained a character for pride, and made himself a great many enemies.

But, still, Coriolanus was not without friends. An old senator, by name Menenius Agrippa, a very merry old fellow, was warmly attached to him, and wished, if possible, to raise him to the office of consul, which was the highest dignity the Romans could confer. But at this time, there was a great scarcity of bread and food in Rome, and the citizens were in a state of insurrection. Mobs paraded the streets, demanding food, and threatening death to the rich, whom they supposed had passed edicts to make provisions dear, that they might drain the pockets of the people. Menenius met a tumultuous body of the citizens going to pull down the house of Caius Marcius, and to kill him; for they thought that if they did so, they should get corn at their own price. Besides this, they wanted to govern, instead of being governed, and seemed determined to destroy all government, by a universal insurrection. Menenius, to stay them from their purpose, and to gain a little time, offered, if they would hear him, to tell a story which should put the subject of which they complained in its true light.

After a great deal of tumult, the citizens agreed to hear what the old man had to say, who proceeded as follows: "My friends," said he, "there was a

time when all the members rebelled against the stomach, and accused it of living an idle and luxurious life, in the midst of the body, without ever laboring for itself, or taking any trouble concerning the very things by which it was fed and comforted. To this the stomach replied, "It is true, I am the storehouse and shop of the whole body, but still, I have labor to perform that you know nothing of; for I have to convert the rude matters that the hands and mouth supply me with, into blood, and to send it in rivers both to the heart and brain, and every other part of the system, without which they could not live, nor could eye and ear, and heart and hand, see, or hear, or feel!' Therefore, so it is with you, my friends; you feed the governing body of the state, and this sustains you for all the purposes for which you live."

At this moment Coriolanus approached, and upbraided the citizens with their many vices, particularly with their disaffection and cowardice; and advancing towards them, the determined bearing he put on, so frightened them, that the more fearful fell back, and retired to a remote part of the city. At this moment, a messenger arrived with intelligence that the Volsci, a nation which harassed the Romans, were in arms, and that the city was in imminent danger. Upon this, Coriolanus immediately professed his readiness to head the Roman army against its enemies, and departed for the campaign.

Now, the chief enemies that Coriolanus had in Rome, were two senators, Junius Brutus and Sicinius Velutus, who hated him for his proud reserve, and more especially for his popularity with the aristocratical portion of the state of Rome, and as soon as he was gone, began to plot against him, having formed a resolution to contrive his downfall on the first fitting opportunity.

In the meantime, Coriolanus prosecu

ted the war against the enemies of his country, and came home, as usual, victorious, preceded by the loudest acclamations of the people. A triumph was granted him; and a splendid triumph, such as Rome had rarely witnessed, was prepared for him. He was first crowned with an oaken garland, and then, mounted on a triumphal car, drawn by eight splendid horses, richly caparisoned, through the principal streets of the city towards the capital. Before him marched the prisoners he had taken in the war, and behind him were wagons richly decorated, and laden with the spoils of the Volsci. But in the midst of all this glorious array, Coriolanus beheld his mother coming towards him, and, descending from his chariot, ordered a way to be made for her, and as she approach ed, fell down on his knees before her in the lowest humility, that he might receive her blessing-a spectacle far more sublime than those which warriors generally exhibit to the world.

After this, it was proposed by the friends of Coriolanus, that he should stand for the consulship. Now, it was a custom in Rome that when any one desired this high office, he should present himself to the people in the market place, and solicit their votes; he was expected to be very humble and very smooth-tongued, and to ask the office as a great favor, and to boast of his noble deeds, and show his wounds, and declare how uprightly he would act, and how much he would do for the poor. But the heart of Coriolanus grew sick when he thought of this humiliation; and as Brutus and Sicinius knew his disposition, they determined that this part of the ceremony should in no wise be abated, in order that Coriolanus might be led to do or say something displeasing to the people, and thereby incur their dislike. And this, indeed, was actually the case, for instead of complimenting the citizens,

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he said, "Look at my wounds; see, I got them in my country's service, when some of you ran away from the noise of your own drums."

But notwithstanding this haughty bearing, Coriolanus was elected consul; for most of the people, although they did not like to see him so proud, had a great veneration for his character; and a great dependence upon him as a warrior. Brutus and Sicinius, however, determined to oppose him in the senate, when his election should be confirmed, and took the opportunity to influence the popular mind against him, that they might the more effectually oppose him. So when the senate met, Brutus and Sicinius openly charged him with showing contempt for the Roman citizens; while a great crowd collected in the market-place, who vowed the destruction of Coriolanus the instant he appeared among them.

Coriolanus repelled the charges of his enemies with such warmth and indignation that they turned upon him, and being made bold by the shoutings of the mob outside, called him a traitor, and wished the officers to come and apprehend him. He, farther incensed at this audacity, seized Brutus in his gripe, and shook him as if he would shake the bones out of his garment; at the same time, Sicinius ran out, crying for help, and brought out a rabble of citizens, who, with their rude weapons fell upon Coriolanus, with the determination to seize him, and drag him to the Tarpeian Rock, a high hill in Rome, from which malefactors used to be thrown headlong. "Down with him, down with him!" was heard on all sides. But Coriolanus drew his sword, and in a moment, the rabble fell back, as if struck by lightning. A great skirmish now ensued, and Coriolanus drove before him the ædiles and the tribunes and their partisans out of the forum, and passed unmolested to his house.

But the storm was not blown over, for the tribunes of the people, Brutus and Sicinius, determined not to give up their cause till their enemy was destroyed; and accordingly, used every means in their power, to incense the citizens still farther against him. They then summoned him to answer for his rude conduct before the people in the forum! They knew his hot and fiery temper, and determined, when the day arrived, to say something that might provoke him, so that he might, before the whole assembly, give vent to some expressions as offensive as those he had formerly used. Brutus, therefore, when the time arrived, openly charged Coriolanus with being a traitor to the people. Upon hearing the word traitor, the rage of the warrior knew no bounds, and he upbraided, in the most vehement terms, both the tribunes, and uttered the bitterest curses on the people. This was what Brutus and Sicinius had aimed at; and therefore, taking advantage of his passionate indiscretion, they called upon the people to bear witness of his contempt, and to join with them in pronouncing his banishment forever from Rome.

Coriolanus, wound up to the highest pitch of anger and indignation, instead of endeavoring to appease the torrent that overwhelmed him, turned his back upon Rome in the most supreme contempt, after having upbraided the citizens for their ingratitude and other vices. He then departed, with the shouts of execration ringing in his ears. But he had scarcely left the city when news was brought that the Volscians, under Tullius Aufidius, were again in arms, and were approaching Rome with rapid marches and in great numbers. Then would the citizens willingly have called back Coriolanus, but he was gone.

In the meantime, the banished warrior, not knowing where to go, and being without shelter or home, wandered into

the camp of Aufidius, and was at last brought before the Volscian general. "Who art thou?" said the chieftain. I am," said he, "Coriolanus, who defeated thee at Corioli, hence my surname, Coriolanus. Fortune hath thrown me upon thy hearth, and now I am ready to bow down my neck to thee: and thou canst, if thou wilt, revenge thy country's wrongs, and thine own, by shedding my blood, and depriving me of the power of ever more driving thee to thy forests and thy hills."

Tullius Aufidius was a man of noble bearing, and, instead of taking advantage of the situation of his enemy, offered him the rights of hospitality. "Come to my arms," said he," and be to me a brother." "I will unite with thee," replied Coriolanus, "against that hateful city, which has spurned me forth; and its ungrateful inhabitants shall perish by fire and sword." And upon this compact, the two generals embraced each other, and vowed fidelity. They then took measures of preparation for an attack on Rome, having determined to destroy it utterly, and to kill, or sell into slavery all its inhabitants.

When the Roman people heard of the approach of the Volsci, they were greatly frightened; but their terror was increased when they were informed that Coriolanus had joined their enemies; and nothing was heard in Rome but howlings and lamentations. Brutus and Sicinius were greatly discomfited, for the popular fury was turned against them. They were upbraided for the banishment of Coriolanus, and were hooted and pelted by the rabble, in the same manner as Coriolanus had been ; so that they were forced to hide themselves from their fury. The former friends of Coriolanus were rejoiced at this, but they were no less in consternation; for the destruction of a city in which we live is a terrible thing, and must be attended