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It is false to itself—or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself—it labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant; it finds itself preyed on by a torment which it dares not acknowledge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him; and like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master;—it betrays his discretion; it breaks down his courage; it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed; it will be confessed ; there is no refuge from confession but in suicide, and suicide is confession.
GEMS FROM SHAKSPEARE.
W HEY well deserve to have,
The plants look up to heaven, from whence TOT way to get.
They have their nourishment. op So Judas kiss'd his Master;
Things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. T And cried-all hail! when as he meant,-all harm.
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a
draw deep. good livery of honor.
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities He that is giddy thinks that the world turns Make not your thoughts your prisons. round.
There is no time so miserable but a man may A lady's verily is
be true. As potent as a lord's.
Let us be sacrificers, but no butchers. What is yours to bestow is not yours to
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. reserve.
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear.
Receive what cheer you may;
The night is long, that never finds the day. What is the city but the people ?
Wisely and slow: they stumble that run Let them obey, that know not how to rule. A friend i’ the court is better than a penny Nor ask advice of any other thought in purse.
| But faith, fulness, and courage.
Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.
Nor seek for danger Where there's no profit.
Brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes.
Pity is the virtue of the law,
All difficulties are but easy when they are known.
When sorrows come, they come not single
Too light winning
What great ones do, The less will prattle of. Men are men; the best sometimes forget. A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. True valor still a true respect should have.
Oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.
Thoughts are but dreams, till their effects be tried.
The old bees die—the young possess the hive.
Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee. Mar not the thing that cannot be amended.
The hearts of old gave hands: But our new heraldry is—hands, not hearts. Security Is mortal's chiefest enemy.
Dull not device by coldness and delay.
Wisely weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. A custom
More honor'd in the breach than the observance,
Celerity is never more admired,
• The weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground.
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
Be to yourself
Trust not him, that hath once broken faith. There's place and means for every man alive.
There's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.
Small things make base men proud.
How poor an instrument,
Things ill got had ever bad success.
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose.
It is religion that doth make vows kept.
An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.
There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.
Take all the swift advantage of the hours. Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
The better part of valour is—discretion.
Short-lived wits do wither as they grow. The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
The words of Mercury are harsh after the song of Apollo.
There's small choice in rotten apples.
Strong reasons make strong actions.
SZAVERNS, especially those which are situated in limestone, commonly
present the formations called stalactites, from a Greek word signifying distillation or dropping. The manner of their production admits of a very plain and simple explanation. They proceed from
water trickling through the roofs containing carbonate of lime, d held in solution by carbonic acid. Upon exposure to the air the carbonic acid is gradually disengaged, and a pellicle of lime is deposited. The process proceeds, drop after drop, and eventually, descending points hanging from the roof are formed, resembling icicles, which are composed of concentric rings of transparent pellicles of lime, presenting a very peculiar appearance, and, from their connection with each other, producing a variety of singular shapes. These descending points are the stalactites properly so called, from which the stalagmites are to be distinguished, which cover the floors of caverns with conical inequalities. These are produced by the evaporation of the larger drops which have fallen to the bottom, and are stalactites rising upwards from the ground. Frequently, in the course of ages, the ascending and descending points have been so increased as to meet together, forming natural columns, a series of which bears a striking resemblance to the pillars and arches of Gothic architecture.
The amount of this disposition which we find in caverns capable of producing it, is, in fact, enormous, and gives us an impressive idea of their extraordinary antiquity. The grotto of Antiparos—one of the islands of the Grecian Archipelago—is particularly celebrated on account of the size and diversity of form of these deposits. It extends nearly a thousand feet beneath the surface, in primitive limestone, and is accessible by a narrow entrance which is often very steeply inclined, but divided by level landing places. After a series of descents, the traveler arrives at the Great Hall, as it is called, the sides and roof of which are covered with immense incrustations of calcareous matter. The purity of the surrounding stone, and the thickness of the roof in which the unfiltered water can deposit all impure admixtures, give to its stalactites a beautiful whiteness. Tall pillars stand in many places free, near each other, and single groups of stalagmites form figures so strongly resembling plants, that Tournefort endeavored to prove from them a vegetable nature in stone. The remark of that intelligent traveler is an amusing example of over confidence:“Once again I repeat it, it is impossible this should be done by the