sand spectators assembled within these walls, arrayed in the splendour of Roman costume, and ranged in five concentric tiers of seats, rising one above another, from the podium to the gallery. From those vomitories, still visible, issued the wild beasts, brought from some African, Parthian, or Dalmatian forest. In one corner a group of human victims stood trembling, consisting of captives, slaves, and early Christians. Apart by themselves stalked forth the volunteer gladiators, accoutred for the fight, and scowling a look of proud defiance upon the vomitories now opening to let out the roaring lion and the fierce tiger. As these savage beasts appear, growling, snuffing in the air, and looking wildly round upon their prey, the whole heavens ring, and the air is rent with shouts of applause; and then the work of blood and destruction commences ! Oh the very picture which imagination draws is enough to sicken the heart! This is the kind of happiness which they seek who have no Bible to guide them, who depend merely upon the light of learning and science to direct their feet in the way of happiness and peace.

The interior of the Colosseum presents many marks of desolation. By means of broken staircases, I was enabled to elimb up to a considerable height, and found myself at length almost lost in the labyrinth of ruins. It is said, if viewed by moonlight from one of these points, when the shattered fragments of stone and the shrubs which grow upon them are seen in alternations of light and shade, the mind receives impressions of gratification and melancholy which, perhaps, no other prospect in the world could produce. I was, however, too much of an invalid to make the experiment, especially as the evenings in February and March are very damp in Italy. The first time I visited the Colosseum was a bright, sunny morning. The whole scene was very imposing, and the view from the top of this gigantic structure was exceedingly grand. While traversing the circling corridors of this immense structure to gain the highest practicable part, I was enabled to catch through the opening arches, now and then, glimpses of the ruins that lay strewn around me, and also of the dark pines and purple hills of the distant country. The whole Colosseum seemed like one vast solitude. The grass had grown thickly over the

arena below, which had been so often wet with blood. I felt that I realized the scene, and could appreciate the sentiment of a former traveller. "The clear blue sky in calm repose above our heads breathed its serenity into our minds; the glorious sun shed its beams of brightness on all the surrounding objects with undiminished splendour; nature was unchanged; but we stood amidst the ruins of that proud fabric which man had destined for eternity. All had passed away-the conquerors, the victims, the imperial tyrants, the slavish multitudes-all the successive generations that had rejoiced and triumphed, and bled and suffered here. Their name, their language, their religion had vanished; their inhuman sports were forgotten, and they were in the dust."-Rev. J. A. Clark.

GREENWICH HOSPITAL; OR, "NOTHING TO DO."

My first visit to the metropolis was in company with my uncle Barnaby and cousin Frank. The former kindly determined that we should be gratified by visiting most of the objects of curiosity and interest in London, not then quite

numerous as at the present day. Some of these I have since often seen, some of them never; but of all I retain a very distinct and vivid recollection. I think, with a very slight effort of memory, I could now write a journal of the whole month-from the morning when Mrs. Rogers tied the silk handkerchiefs round our necks, and furnished us with ginger cakes to keep out the cold on our journey, and repeated her charge to us to be sure and not lose sight of my uncle in the streets, lest we should lose our way, and get taken away by kidnappers, or gipsiesto the evening when we again drove into the grounds; and I felt as though I could have kissed the grass, for very joy to see the country once more.

We spent a long morning in Westminster Abbey, surveying the architectural beauties of that venerable pile, and the monuments of the illustrious dead. A vast deal of time and money are spent in vain on sights, especially with the professed intention of gratifying children; and that, not because the objects are in themselves void of interest, but because they are not rendered interesting by being made in

telligible. Often have I pitied the children taken out for "a day's pleasure," and dragged with wearisome indifference through halls, and libraries, by pictures and statues, and painted windows, of which they knew nothing, nor were likely to learn anything from the showman's monotonous gabble about gothic arches, tessellated pavements, and composite pillars, and the celebrated sir Christopher Wren, or the famous sir Godfrey Kneller. How gladly, if it had not been for the name of the thing, would such a day's pleasure have been exchanged for a ramble in the woods, or the fields, to fly the kite, or gather cowslips, or do whatever else they pleased!

Sights seen in my uncle's company were never uninteresting. He had such a happy art of awakening the curiosity of young people, keeping up their attention, and storing their memory by anecdotes connected with the objects they beheld. Westminster Abbey has been called a dull sight for children; and it is so, if they have a dull conductor. My early visit there with uncle Barnaby, imparted a reality to the persons and events there mentioned, more vivid and interesting than I should have acquired in seven years by reading English history as a school task, and committing to memory chronological tables. From that day, I took delight in the study of history; and so identified it with my relative, and Westminster Abbey, that whenever I met with a name that I recollected as recorded there, I invariably went to my kind uncle to make further inquiries about that person as of a common acquaintance.

Frank was particularly interested in every thing connected with naval history; I think I have heard that he had once some notion of entering the navy, but relinquished it in compliance with the wish of his mother. We staid long, and with deep but melancholy interest, before the tombs of sir Cloudesley Shovell and admiral Kempenfelt, while my uncle related to us the affecting loss of these two brave men and their companions. He repeated to us Cowper's beautiful verses on "the loss of the Royal George.' I do not know whether that did not rouse my spirit to relish poetry as much as my uncle's anecdotes gave me a relish for English history; I could have staid all day to listen to the melancholy dirge. My uncle, how

ever, intended taking us to Greenwich that afternoon; so we left the interesting Abbey, with feelings that were pensive, yet far remote from the weariness of indifference.

We took a boat at Westminster bridge, and gliding down the majestic stream, surveyed with admiration many of the buildings of the great metropolis; and then the trading vessels of every description, bearing into its port the commerce of the globe. Alas! we saw too (for it was during the time of the revolutionary war with France) some vessels of war preparing to go forth on the errand of destruction. It was piteous to think, that of the brave men then embarking, perhaps not one half would revisit their native shores; and that even the victory and glory for which they panted, if attained, must be purchased at the price of human misery and human blood. How would my good uncle, who then so feelingly lamented the horrors of war, have rejoiced to see, as in the present day, British vessels go forth freighted with Bibles and missionaries, to spread over the globe those benignant principles of the gospel of peace, under the influence of which the fulfilment of prophecy is to be effected, that "nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more," Isa. ii. 4. We could scarcely pass a vessel of any considerable size, but the old waterman who rowed us claimed her as an old acquaintance, and had some story to tell of her captain and of his gallant crew, until the appearance of the domes and colonnades of Greenwich Hospital cut short one of his "long yarns."

"What a noble pile!" exclaimed Frank, as we came in front, so as to take a full view. "Yes," replied my uncle, "it is one of the finest specimens of architectural magnificence that England affords; but few of her nobles, or even her princes, possess palaces equal in splendour to this stately edifice, assigned as the tribute of national gratitude to the wounded and worn-out sailor." We landed, and surveyed every part of the building, usually shown to strangers, and some to which we had access as a special privilege, my uncle having an introduction from his friend, admiral

Most of the rooms are occupied in common; but each sailor has à cabin

exclusively his own. Almost every one of these bore some distinguishing mark of the individual character of the proprietor. Many had models or drawings of ships, some more neatly, and some more coarsely executed; generally the vessel in which the old seaman had the honour to sail, with such or such a commander, which was victorious in so many battles, and brought home such and such French, or Spanish vessels. Some displayed the picture of a long lost wife; some exhibited their own, taken in early life; some had a few foreign curiosities; some a grotesque tumbler, or pair of nutcrackers, or perhaps a ludicrous print, or a naval ballad. In a few instances, the long forgotten attachments of childhood had revived, and the cabin window of the veteran mariner exhibited pots or boxes of mignonette, stocks, or carnations; and in a few, the well-worn Bible, the book of devotion, or the treatise on eternity, on repentance, or faith, or the "sweet fiction and sweet truth" of the heavenly "Pilgrim," indicated the spiritual taste of the inhabitant of the little domicile. Equally various were the occupations in which we saw the old pensioners engaged. Some were reading; some netting; some shaping models of vessels; some cutting notches in sticks, apparently without any design, except as a mere pastime; some sauntering about with an uncomfortable expression of countenance; and some lying on the benches, chewing tobacco.

The gentleman who accompanied us told my uncle the particulars of their allowance, which is in every respect liberal, and amply provides for every comfort they can desire. My uncle expressed great delight with the kind and munificent arrangements, and rejoiced to think that such an asylum was provided for worn-out British seamen, in which they might comfortably and profitably pass the closing years of their mortal existence.

"I regret to say," observed our conductor, "that the old men are not in general characterized by a cheerful, contented spirit. Those that are so, are rather the exceptions than the general standard."

"To what can this be attributed ?" asked my uncle. 66 Certainly not to any want of regard to their comfortable provision, nor to any irksome restriction or confinement. I should think, if the

old men had planned their own lot, it could not have been, in every respect, more eligible.”

"No; nor do I by any means accuse them of complaining. I believe almost every one of them, should you dissect the arrangements of the establishment, and present them to him one by one, would express himself satisfied with every item; and would say that altogether he had nothing to complain of. And yet I think that most of them are strangers to that kind of satisfaction, which the labouring man enjoys when he comes, weary with his day's toil, to a home far less commodious, and a table far less liberally spread than that of the Greenwich pensioner; but for which he depends on his own daily exertions, and which he shares with those he loves.

Such a man has the stimulus of hope, fear, and contrivance, which to man, constituted as he is, forms a large portion of enjoyment. In short, many of them are unhappy, because they have nothing to do.""

"That I can easily conceive," observed my uncle. "I know that the most uncomfortable moments of my own existence have been when obliged to remain for a time without employment. I was once, when a young man, sent by my father with his phaeton to meet a friend, who was to come by coach to a certain point in the road, three or four miles from our house. I reached the road, as was fitting, a few minutes before the coach might be expected, and paced backwards and forwards very contentedly until it came up; but our friend was not there. Another coach would pass in half an hour, and he would probably come by that: there was another coach, too, that came a different road, but would arrive at that point at the same time, and he might come by that. At all events, I must wait, and the time seemed an intolerable burden on my hands. I had not a book, nor a pencil with which to amuse myself. I could not get down, and botanize, for my father had charged me not to leave the horses a moment, nor could I even ride about, lest, losing sight of either road, I might miss the coach. It was a trivial circumstance; but it so impressed on my mind a sense of the wretchedness of having nothing to do, that I have never since failed to carry about my person something that would furnish me with interesting

employment for leisure time, that might be unexpectedly thrown upon my hands. Two gentlemen of my acquaintance," continued my uncle, "on a tour of pleasure, were driven, by a heavy fall of snow, to seek a night's lodging at a little obscure cottage in Wales. During the night, the snow continued, and by morning had risen to such a height as completely to imprison the inmates of the cottage. Retreat was impracticable, and there they were obliged to remain for several days without employment, without a book to beguile the tedious hours, without even a spade or pickaxe, with which to attempt their liberation; the very toil of which would have been incomparably preferable to the wretchedness of having nothing to do. At length, one of them having a most active mind, devised for himself an amusement, by making the poker red hot, and with its point burning figures in the wooden settle. Before their imprisonment terminated, he succeeded in sketching a tolerable likeness of his friend, and has since carried on his newly discovered art to a considerable degree of perfection. I can easily imagine that the more active and energetic of the Greenwich pensioners would devise for themselves some kind of interesting, though perhaps mischievous employment, according to their several tastes; and those of a more indolent cast would become gloomy and diseased, for want of stimulus and exertion."

"I wonder," said Frank, "that some kind of employment is not furnished to them by the institution."

:

After taking leave of this gentleman, who had showed us much polite attention, we rambled awhile in the park, and fell into conversation with several of the old men, whose remarks fully confirmed all he had said. Some of them we found very cheerful, contented, and happy; they were uniformly busy, benevolently busy. One was writing a letter to his aged mother, and enclosing in it a one pound note, saved from his weekly allowance for tobacco. The tears filled his eyes, as he spoke of her; she had been a good mother to him. He told us of her early instructions; her exertions to fit him out decently; her anxieties and her prayers on his behalf; her joy at once more welcoming him to his native shores, though with mutilated limbs and now his gratitude for having a comfortable asylum for himself, which he seemed chiefly to value as enabling him to contribute to the comfort of her old age. Another was making a chain of cherry stones; and displayed for sale little grottoes of sea shells, and several other little ingenious and beautiful articles. A fine little boy of five or six years old was endeavouring to assist the old man in his work. The affection that evidently subsisted between them seemed almost like that of parent and child. We learned, however, that the little fellow was the orphan child of an old messmate; and that the veteran devoted the produce of his ingenuity and his merchandize, in assisting the widow to support and educate her children. There was one interesting little group, consisting of three old men ; two of them, hale and hearty; the third had been much shattered. His companions had placed him on a bench in the shade; he was reading aloud to them in Doddridge's "Rise and Progress." One of the two sat with his elbows lodged on his knees, both hands supporting his head, and his eyes eagerly fixed on the reader. He was deaf; but seemed to listen with his eyes, watching every motion of the lips, and so assisting the dull ear to guess at the sound conveyed. The other listened not with less attention, but with less difficulty; he was at the same time netting. When the chapter closed, each brushed away a tear from his weather-beaten cheek; and the two, with admirable dexterity and tenderness, assisted their crippled comrade in changing his position. My

uncle took the opportunity of entering, into conversation with the hoary tars, and congratulated them on the pleasures of Christian friendship, which they were evidently enjoying. It was truly pleasant to find how they were mutually serviceable to each other, and how each found his own happiness in promoting that of others. The cripple spoke gratefully of the kindness of his comrades. He said they were always at hand to attend to his wants and help him about into an easy position; and they did it with the skill of a surgeon, and the tenderness of a nurse. The other two old men were equally prompt in their expressions of obligation to their disabled comrade. One complained of having in his youth had no opportunity of acquiring a knowledge of reading; the other owned that he had then no sense of its value; but "Jack, here," they both agreed, was "a fine reader; he had learning enough for a chaplain and by their joint savings they had purchased some choice books, which, by Jack's plain reading, they could well understand, and found them right comfortable to their poor ignorant souls." The produce of the netting we found was devoted, together with a portion of their weekly allowance, to the purchase of a valuable Commentary on the Holy Scriptures, then coming out in numbers. It appeared evident that the pious reading, in which they took so much delight, had been made really profitable to their minds. They had become acquainted with Him whom to know is life eternal, and they were rejoicing in hope of the glory of God. These men were happy, and verified the remark of the gentleman who had accompanied us through the establishment, that if the whole community "could be brought impartially to exhibit the degrees of happiness which prevail amongst them, we should find that he was the most happy man, who was laying by the greater portion of his little pittance for a heart that he loved, and was building up his own happiness by a preparation for eternity; while he was the most miserable who was most exempt, in the common acceptation, from care, and who had acquired as much passing gratification as he could obtain.'

On our way back to town, the topic of our conversation was the happiness of being well employed, and the wretched

"Have

ness of having nothing to do. you ever thought, my boys," said my uncle, "how much our happiness depends on having something to do, and doing it?" We both acknowledged that we had never before been so forcibly struck with that sentiment, as on the present occasion; but even our own short experience and limited observation would serve to corroborate it. I recollected seeing my little brother look very unhappy, and asked him what was the matter; he replied, "I have got nothing to do." Mrs. Harris, the superintendent of our nursery, immediately said, "Come to me, dear, and I will give you a nice raspberry tart." Employment was what he wanted, not food; of course, the tart pleased him just as long as he was eating it, and no longer. He soon relapsed into his former discontented mood.

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"Yes," said my uncle, "and thus it often is that children acquire habits of indolence, discontent, and gluttony. They are made to eat when they are not hungry, to save the lazy nurses the trouble of finding them employment. I do think parents should consider it an imperative duty to see that their children are furnished with suitable employment, such as will agreeably stimulate them to constant activity."

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I felt

'My poor mamma," I said, "does attend to that as much as ever her health will allow; and so does papa, when he is at home. We are never dull for want of employment, when we can be with them." My uncle, I am certain, had not intended to convey any unkind reflection on my parents. In their case, it was unavoidable, much more so than it usually is, for children to be left to the care of servants. at the moment grieved by my uncle's remark; but I afterwards felt convinced that this was one of the many evils resulting from that arrangement. My uncle observed, that a physician who had lately been visiting at his home, when speaking of the beneficial effects of activity in promoting health and cheerfulness, had said that gentlemen's coachmen and porters were often unhealthy, and assigned this reason for it, "They suffer from excess of nourishment, they eat more than they work. Having often to wait for their masters," they fill up their time by filling up the stomach."

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'Uncle," said Frank, "do you think