THE ISLAND OF RHODES.

THE Island of Rhodes is only ten miles distant from the coast of Asia Minor, and is about thirty-six miles long by eighteen wide, and one hundred and twenty in circumference. The soil is most fruitful; and delicious fruits-oranges, figs, and grapes, as well as olives and corn can be produced in the greatest abundance. As to climate, the air is said to be so serene that not a day passes without sunshine. The summers are never hot, and the winters never cold.. Rhodes has its name from a Greek word, signifying the place of roses. The ancient Rhodians were distinguished as navigators; and ship-building is the

chief employment of the present inhabitants of the island. Formerly the city was adorned with temples, statues, and paintings, while the theater was the admiration of the world. The most celebrated work of art, however, was the brazen Colossus, a statue dedicated to Apollo, or the sun, and regarded as one of the seven wonders of the world. Of this no vestige now remains. Its feet are said by some writers to have stood upon two moles which formed the entrance of the harbor, and ships under full sail passed between its legs, its height being one hundred and five feet. It was erected 280 years before Christ, and was thrown down by an earthquake fifty-six

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years after. It lay neglected in the harbor for eight hundred and ninety-four years, or till A. D. 670, when it was sold to a Jewish merchant by the reigning caliph.

The metal weighed seven hundred and twenty thousand pounds, and is said to have cost three hundred talents, or one hundred and thirty-five thousand dollars, and to have loaded nine hundred camels, giving to each a burden of eight hundred pounds. This great work of art was product of the genius of a native of the island, and consumed twelve years of labor. Such were the dimensions of the gigantic statue that a man could not meet his arms around one of the thumbs.

Rollin informs us that some authors have affirmed that the money arising from contributions for the restoration of the statue amounted to five times as much as the loss which the Rhodians had sustained by its destruction. But this covetous people, instead of employing the sums they had received, in replacing the statue, agreeably to the intention of the donors, pretended that the oracle of Delphi had prohibited them from the attempt, and given them a command to preserve the money for other purposes, by which means they afterward enriched themselves.

The schools of Rhodes attained so high a degree of celebrity in ancient times, that they were resorted to by some of the greatest men of Rome, among whom were Marcus Brutus, Cicero, Cato, Cæsar, and Pompey. The geographer Strabo, in describing Rhodes, says that "the beauty of its harbor, its streets and walls, and the magnificence of its monuments, rendered it so much superior to all other cities as to admit of no comparison." Not the slightest remains of the old city are now to be found. In the year 1310 the Christian Knights of St. John took possession of Rhodes. After having been in their hands for about four hundred years, during which period they several times bravely repelled strong armies of besiegers, it was finally taken by the Turks in the year of our Lord 1522.

a

| Rhodes has ever since remained a province of the Turkish empire.

Recently this lovely island has been the scene of terrible disasters. About three o'clock on Sunday morning, October 12th, 1856, the sleeping inhabitants of Rhodes were startled by a shock of an earthquake, which lasted for seventy-five seconds, and which no one had ever known to be equaled either in duration or violence. The whole island seemed to rock to and fro, as though a plaything in the hand of a giant, and that giant in a rage.

In the city, the walls of the castle, the towers, the churches, and the mosques, all suffered more or less, while of one thousand houses there were not two which escaped either being utterly overthrown or rendered nearly or quite uninhabitable; and many of the unfortunate occupants were buried under the ruins. It was estimated that the damage amounted to at least sixteen hundred thousand dollars. Of the forty-four villages on the island, all were greatly damaged. Ten were utterly destroyed, some hundreds of the inhabitants being killed outright, and many more wounded dangerously.

This earthquake was not the only calamity which befell Rhodes in the year 1856. Hardly had the affrighted and houseless inhabitants of the city begun to breathe freely, when another misfortune succeeded. Four weeks had not elapsed when, on the 6th of November, the city powder magazine, containing three hundred thousand pounds of powder, was struck by lightning, and exploded, spreading devastation and ruin. By this event the old Church of St. John, dating from the year 1500, was destroyed, together with more than a thousand houses, and some of the finest streets, including a third of the whole city.

A thousand of the inhabitants were on this occasion killed, either by the falling in of the houses, or by fragments of stones which were driven like cannon-balls through the air. Poor Rhodes! It has had a beautiful history; but its glory has departed,

THE BREEZE IN THE CHURCH.
BY MRS. HINXMAN.

'T WAS a sunny day, and the morning psalm
We sang in the church together :
We felt in our hearts the joy and calm
Of the calm and joyous weather.

The slow, and sweet, and sacred strain,

Through every bosom stealing,

For Declamation.

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INAUGURATION OF THE STATUE OF WASHINGTON.

From the oration of the Hon. R. M. T. Hunter, at Richmond, Va., Feb. 22d, 1858, on the occasion of the inauguration of Crawford's statue of Washington.

THIS is no idle ceremonial of grief which we celebrate to-day. The State of Virginia is now about to discharge the last duty which she owes to the memory of Washington. She has invoked the aid of human genius; and, lo! there stands its work. "The animated bust," untenanted, it is true, by the "fleeting breath," but a mighty study, an incorporate tale, which speaks-and, O! how much!- not only

And waked each holy feeling.

We knew by its sunny gleam how clear
Was the blue sky smiling o'er us,

And in every pause of the hymn could hear
The wild birds' happy chorus.

And, lo! from its haunts by cave or rill
With a sudden start awaking,

A breeze came fluttering down the hill,
Its fragrant pinions shaking.

Through the open windows it bent its way,
And down the chancel's center,

Like a privileged thing, that at will might stray,
And in holy places enter.

From niche to niche, from nook to nook,

With a lightsome rustle flying,
It lifted the leaves of the Holy Book,
On the altar-cushion lying.

It fanned the old clerk's hoary hair,

And the children's bright young faces;
Then vanished, none knew how or where,
Leaving its pleasant traces.

It left sweet thoughts of summer hours
Spent on the quiet mountains;
And the church seemed full of the scent of flowers,

And the trickling fall of fountains.

The image of scenes so still and fair
With our music sweetly blended,

formed to express, but also of him who made it; of that bright genius, who, having married a mortal to an immortal name, like some of those victims of unearthly love of whom poets sing, has perished in giving birth to the mighty conception with which it teemed. His chisel now rusts beside the mouldering hand which once wielded it with almost creative power. But the work of his genius will live; and his name, connected now with one which can never die, will be borne through succeeding ages, as the vine is supported by the oak which it crowns and adorns. They will live together; and long may that union of grace and strength endure!

This day is eminently appropriate to the occasion which we celebrate. It was this day which gave birth to him who was not only "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen," but whose name is the representative name of perhaps the greatest ep'och* in human history. Of all human nativities, there is none other

In the praise that to heaven ascended.

We thought of Him who had poured the rills,
And through the green mountains led them,
Whose hand, when he piled the enduring hills,
With a mantle of beauty spread them.
And a purer passion was borne above,
In a louder anthem swelling,

As we bowed to the visible spirit of love,
On those calm summits dwelling.

destiny of men.

It was on this day, one hundred and twenty-six years ago, that Washington was born in Westmoreland county, Virginia, the son of a simple country gentleman. No pealing artillery proclaimed his advent into the world. No churches resounded

* Pronounced ep'ok.

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with the Te Deum, and no procession of priests and nobles paused on bended knee to thank God for the event which continued the succession of an imperial dy'nasty; neither fêtes,* nor holiday, nor public rejoicing, marked for him the expectation with which is received the birth of one of the princes of the earth.

We do not know how far even the mother dared to hope, or whether she dreamed of more for him than the common success of life. How little prescient is man! In that humble chamber was cradled the minister of destiny. There reposed the infant in whose future career were to be garnered more of man's hopes for progress and improvement than had ever rested upon mortal conduct before; and there, too, were folded "hands that the rod of empire might have swayed," if in heart and head he had not been too elevated to desire it.

Here, as in so many other instances, Providence appears to have left public expectation at fault in regard to its instruments. The very accidents of his position seem to have been arranged with a design to train and discipline him for the great struggle of his life. At a time of life when

others who were to be actors in the same scene with himself, and supposed, perhaps, to be more fortunately circumstanced, were pursuing their studies in the halls of learning, he was surveying lands in the wilderness. At the age of sixteen he was already clothed with the duties and responsibilities of manhood, and braved the perils and dif

ficulties of that wild mode of life.

Thus early inured to danger and hardship, and thrown upon his individual resources to encounter them, the experience of his life must have served to strengthen and elevate his character. It taught him presence of mind in the face of danger, and self-reliance in the midst of unexpected dif

ficulties and trials. Nor were these the only teachings of his forest life. For doubtless in that close communion with nature and himself he learned lessons of manly

The e in fête has the sound of long a.

Wait. The battle is over; you got a nice little wound in the shoulder; perhaps General Fogy wants to thank you for your gallantry.

Pump. My gallantry! Do not mock me, fellow-student. Tell me frankly, will it be by hanging, or by shooting, that I shall have to expiate my offense?

Wait. What offense do you mean? Pump. I mean cowardice-rank cowardice, or rather cowardice in the ranks; in short, desertion, running away at the very commencement of the action. Could

n't I get my punishment changed to transportation for life? Botany Bay would be more agreeable than a noose round the neck.

Wait. I have n't heard the first word

* Partly founded on recollection of a story in Blackwood's Magazine.