and was choked with the first mouthful." | an inscription over the door-way of the Such, at the age of thirty-three, is said to cell reads as follows: "He that indureth have been the fate of the author of "Ve- to the ende shall be saved. M. 10. R. nice Preserved." RVDSTON DAR KENT. ANO. 1553;" and yet another, "Be faithful unto the deth and I will give the a crowne of life. T. Fane, 1554;" and beneath it, “T. Cul Let us now take a brief survey of the Tower: this ancient pile, once the bulwark of London, as well as the prisonhouse of its secret crimes, has been alter-pepper of Darford." nately the residence and prison of royal and noble personages for a thousand years. William the Conqueror built that portion of the Tower of London known as the White Tower. The history of this notable structure is rife with events of thrilling interest. As a palace and prison it is more memorable than as a fortress. The historic details of the Tower, indeed, form a prominent feature in many chapters of the history of England, and we can scarcely venture even to refer to them by name. While the barons were waiting for the royal signature to the Magna Charta, the Tower was held in trust by the Archbishop of Canterbury. During the victorious reign of Edward III., among its illustrious inmates were the crowned heads of France and Scotland. It was also within its dreaded walls that the conference was held by Richard II. and the leaders of the insurrection of The Chapel erected in the reign of Edward I., and dedicated to St. Peter and Vincula, possesses great interest, from its being the cemetery where so many noble and worthy personages at last found repose after suffering from the cruelties of the tyrant Henry VIII. The gentle Anne Boleyn slept here, beside her noble brother Lord Richford; also Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and Sir Thomas More. The Tower has been designated by the poet Gray, as— "London's lasting shame With many a foul and midnight murder fed." How many have been the noble and heroic victims of state intolerance, cupidity, and mistaken zeal! One of these was the martyred Tichborne, who, though he refused to connect himself with the conspiracy for the assassination of Elizabeth, yet fell a sacrifice to suspicion. His pathetic verses, penned just prior to his ex "My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, And all my goods are but vain hopes of gain. My youth is past and yet I am but young, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen : Gloucester, and the Tower was vigor-ecution, are as follow: ously besieged in the sanguinary conflicts of the Houses of York and Lancaster; while during the civil war, it was successively occupied by the contending parties. From the Tower, too, Royal processions and pageants usually proceeded, as late as the times of James II. Among the most costly of these may be mentioned the coronation pageants of the haughty Elizabeth and the profligate Charles. It was in a cell on the first floor of the The principal parts of the Tower White Tower that Sir Walter Raleigh, it usually inspected by visitors, are the is said, wrote his "History of the World." | Armory, containing equestrian figures in On the interior of the walls of this Tower are still to be seen the melancholy mementos of terrible sufferings. One of the most affecting is that of a hapless lady, who records the sad story of her twelve years' incarceration—it is signed A. W.; armor, from the reign of Edward I. to James II.; Queen Elizabeth's Armory, which is situated in the White Tower, and was the prison of Sir Walter Raleigh and others, during the reign of Queen Mary; the "Regalia," or royal Amongst these diamonds is a jewels, contained in another apartment, cross. are estimated at three millions sterling. magnificent ruby, worn by the Black St. Edward's Crown was made for the Prince, and a sapphire of matchless coronation of Charles II., and has been beauty. The value of this crown is calsince used at the coronation of all the culated at £111,900. Think of a space Sovereigns of Great Britain since that of two feet square, representing property period to our days. This Crown is iden- to the value $15,000,000! These are tically the same that Blood stole from magnificent baubles to gaze upon, but the Tower, May 9, 1671. The new what vast benefit might be conferred crown made for the coronation of Queen upon the poor Spitalfields weavers, were Victoria, is a purple velvet cap, enclosed this amount devoted to their urgent neby hoops of silver, and studded with a cessities! In the Record Office are kept great quantity of diamonds. The upper the rolls from the time of King John to part is composed of an orb, adorned with the reign of Richard III. precious stones, and surmounted by a rary taste and acquirements are generally known : HOLLAND HOUSE, situated in Kensington, | pen of the late Lord Holland, whose litewas erected in the reign of James I., and affords a fine example of the architecture of that period. The library is one hundred and five feet in length, the collection of books extensive and valuable; the rooms are adorned with busts and pictures. The Park includes about three hundred acres, of which sixty-three are disposed in pleasure-grounds. Over a rural seat is inscribed the following couplet, from the "Here Rogers sat'; and here for ever dwell Holland House is rich in historic and classic associations. The celebrated Earl of Holland, who suffered death for his attachment to his royal master Charles I., after having sided alternately with him and the Parliament, was imprisoned here in his own house, once by the King, and | recollections of Palestine, may not tempt again by the House of Commons. Addison became possessed of Holland House, by his marriage with the Countess Dowager of Warwick and Holland. The poet died here, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, near the entrance to the north aisle of Henry the Seventh's Chapel. HOME. HOME-the home of childhood and of youth-how dear must it ever be to the heart of manhood? Years may have elapsed since we looked upon its venerable form or crossed its threshold, worn by the tread of generations; but it can never fade from our memory, or be displaced from our recollection by any other we have since learned to call our home. him to more than linger for a moment by the way, and then pass on to that less favored, it may be, but far dearer land, where is his home. The sailor, as in the lonely night watch he paces the deck of his gallant vessel bounding along over some distant sea, while the moaning wind whistles through the cordage, dreams it is the voices of spirits, whispering of home-the home he quitted so readily, but which he now longs for as the tempest-driven bird for the nest it has too rashly forsaken. Many a strange vicissitude has he undergone since he left that peaceful spot. At one time the scented gales of Arabia have flung their fragrance around him, as his bark glided gracefully through the rippling waters of the blue Mediterranean; at another, the rude blast of the tempest has struck his reeling ship, and sent her leaping and quivering over the mountain waves of the boundless Atlantic. But, alike in sunshine and in storm, the silken zephyr could not woo, nor the roaring hurricane drive from his breast the sweet hope of one day revisiting the home now so far away. The thought of home is that which infuses its greatest vigor into the arm of the warrior, rendering him on the battlefield indifferent to the tramp of the warhorse, the flash of the bayonet, or the roar of the cannon, and which, on the bed of sickness, breathes consolation into his wounds, and robs them of half the pain, by reminding him of their reward. The love of home, like the love of country, is confined to no class; it is not to be bounded by the landmarks of nobility, or limited in its universal sovereignty by the restraints of rank. The lordly mansion and the splendid palace may have little of home to bless their magnificence, while the lowly hut reposing beneath their shade may make good a title to the endearing name. The traveller may have gazed on many a stormy landscape and many a noble shore. The heaving forest or the waving prairie may have spread their loveliness before him, majestic rivers may have courted his admiration, or the soft murmurings of some blue lake have wooed him to repose-but all these, though they may charm for a while, It matters not whether that home be cannot win his heart from home. He in the dim recesses of snow-crowned may have wandered beneath the glowing Norway, or in the beaming plains of sky of Italy, or climbed the rocky laughing France-under the burning sun heights, grand in their towering rugged- of Africa's scorched up deserts, or by ness, of Switzerland. His footsteps may some glistening stream in forest glade of have echoed amid the ruins of Greece, or dear old England-by Niagara's foaming trod in paths hallowed by the feet of precipice, or Geneva's peaceful lakeHim who trod earth, no home in which to home is everywhere home. "Home, lay His head. But the glories of Italian sweet, sweet home," is the song in which scenery, the mournful associations of all nations may join, for truly, “there is lovely Greece, or the still more tender no place like home." SIGHTS IN AND ABOUT ROME. The ruins of the Palace of the Cæsars are upon the right, in passing down the ia di San Gregorio. This immense building, or collection of buildings, began first by Augustus, and enlarged by Tiberius and Caligula, was subsequently extended by Nero, beyond Mount Palatine to the Esquiline, to the great detriment of Maecenas, whose house was compelled to give way to "the pre-emption right" of the Emperor. You know that Titus afterwards retrenched this enormous outlay of brick and mortar, employing that upon the Esquiline for the foundations of his baths, and confining the Palace to its former limits the Palatine. These ruins are among the most enormous in Rome. The ivy, and the verdure that cover the immense masses of masonry, give a very picturesque appearance to the Palatine; and some portions of them when visited, are found to be pleasing and beautiful. Yet they are generally so devoid of distinctness and beauty, that they leave upon the mind an impression of utter devastation and decay; and one sees so little that gratifies the sight, in comparison with what was once so extensive and imposing, that he seldom cares to go more than once. The Coliseum, I have thought, was not so grand and impressive in the days of its first completion, as it is now. There is a strange and mournful beauty in the Baths of Caracalla, which one never forgets, and you never feel weary of visiting either. It is not so, I think, with Cæsar's Palace. The hill is covered with gardens and vineyards, in one of which are certain damp subterranean rooms, called "The Baths of Livia." A rough-looking cicerone will unlock the entrance, and in the dark chambers will fasten his candles to a long pole, and show you some fine remains upon the ceiling, of painting and stucco. If you ask him for any information worth having, he will tell you he doesn't know, and though a descendant of some old Roman, the blood in his veins is so weak and diluted, that he evi dently cares very little for its ancient glory. The particular proof of its renown, over which he watches, is regarded only as a pile of rubbish, which foolish people come and see, causing him an outlay for candles, and an income of coppers. So we go. In one part of the ruins, you will find some old temples used for granaries and hay presses; and the other remains serve as rope-walks. So they go. From one part of the hill you may look down upon the Circus Maximus, and from another enjoy a superb view of Rome. You may also see, right in the midst of these ruins, a modern, most intensely modern villa, with towers and turrets and other effective gingerbread. And upon the highest point of those ancient and vast remains, it is perched like a cocked hat, upon a colossal, headless, and disfigured statue. Proceeding down the Via di San Gregorio, we are led to the Via San Sebastiano, which conducts to the Baths of Caracalla. These occupy an area of more than a mile in circumference, and except the Coliseum, are the most extensive ruins in Rome. It has been said that they contain 1,600 marble seats for bathers, and among the pieces of sculpture which were here discovered, were the Farnese Hercules, the Flora, and the Tora Farnese, now in the Naples Museum, and the Torso Belvidere, the two Gladiators, a Venus, and two baths of basalt at present in the Vatican. The custode, who opens the wooden gate, will show you a grand plan of the baths as they were, and a room where are heads, and legs, pieces of columns, fragments of arms, marbles, and mosaics, all heaped together, and served up in one grand dish of ruin. He will show you remains of the superb mosaic pavements, and conduct you to a tower leading to the summit of one of the highest points, where you may sit and look down upon the whole. You may notice its crumbling arches, and massive columns, its defaced and ruined pavements, and its silent and tenantless halls. All order and architectural beauty have gone, and everything is confused and decaying. But the strange shapes the ruins have taken, and the trees, and grass, and flowers that spring from their rugged sides and summits, and hide their deformity in dense and unchecked verdure, have a mild beauty which cannot be told. It was here that Shelley wrote most of his "Prometheus Unbound," but the inspiration of the place, I've thought, was better suited to that sad drama of the Cenci. One niche in the memory is filled, I can tell you, after visiting the Baths of Caracalla. the peculiar associations of the place, as he follows the monk who in strange dress, and by the dim light of the candles, guides him through those dark, damp, gloomy, windings. They are of almost incredible extent, reaching, it is said, to the length of twenty miles, although only a comparatively small portion of them is allowed to be traversed. And what a history has such a place! A history known only to the actors and to God. Book shelves are piled with records of places, and of men, yet how much, how very, very much is unwritten after all, "save in the eternal stereotype of His omniscience." About two miles beyond the Porta San Sebastino, is "The small round tower of other days, Firm as a fortress with its fence of stone.' "" Before reaching the Basilica of San Sebastiano, you pass a little church called "Domine quo vadis," said to mark the spot where the Saviour was met by St. Peter; and in the Basilica, among its many relics, is a stone with impressions said to be of the Saviour's feet. There is in the It is indeed most massively built, and Basilica, a reclining statue of St. Sebas- gives strongest evidence of having been tian, who is there buried. Among the a most superb structure. Even now, it relics you will be shown the pillar to has a lien upon several centuries to come. which he was fastened, and one of the The tower is seventy feet in height, restarrows which pierced him, and will feel ing upon a quadrangular basement. It that there are times in the intellectual, as was built in memory of Cecilia Meletta, well as spiritual history of men, when wife of Crassus, and daughter of Quintus great need is felt for an increase of faith. Metellus. From his conquest of Crete, But this church is especially remarka- B. C. 66, the latter obtained the surname, ble, as the entrance to the catacombs. Creticus, and upon the part of the tomb You enter them by candle light, and go towards the street is this inscription, Cothrough one passage after another, now ciliæ Q. Cretici, F. Metelli, Crassi. Above straight and then winding and intricate. it, is a mutilated bas-relief. Within is a You pass the tombs of grown persons, small circular chamber, having walls 25 and of children: many of them martyrs to feet thick, its own diameter being but 15. the Christian faith. It is known that in The tomb was much injured by having the olden times, those times when Christi- the outer coating of its basement stripped anity walked like a feeble and beautiful to make lime, while large portions were child, with bare feet over a path of removed by Urban III. to construct the spikes, and amid the goadings and revil- fountain of Trevi. It was also much inings of the whole earth, the Christians jured during the siege of the Constable de used these catacombs as places of worship. Bourbon, and in the 13th century, a conVery appropriately, therefore, the monks ical roof which sprang from the frieze have here and there fashioned the rock and cornice, was displaced by a battleinto rude chapels, for devotional puposes. ment at the instance of Boniface III., who A man's memory must become a tangled converted it into a fortress. It has lived skein of cobwebs, before he will forget a and lasted through a great deal of persevisit here. If he has any imagination, he cution. Below, not far distant, is the can paint pictures enough, apart from all circus of Romulus, having an area of |