the twelve tribes of Israel or that it was destroyed by some fatal cause, before Octavius spread his conquests over the civilized world. We venture a few conjectures on the character of the lost race. They were highly civilized. The arts are signs of cultivated life; the fine arts, of a high degree of cultivation. These must have been long and diligently practiced among them-genius and skill must have united in their works, to render them so perfect that their beauty should be visible in the broken ruins. Their architecture, of which a few specimens remain, especially indicates cultivated habits and refined tastes. They paid peculiar attention to religion. We infer this from the structure of their temples, which appear to have been the most elaborate and enduring of all their edifices. But their religion was idolatrous. A small golden idol was found, not long since, among the ruins of the great temple at Palenque. This, added to the evidence of a few partially deciphered hieroglyphics, makes the inference reasonably certain. That the idea of luxury was an element in their religion appears from the decorations of their altars and the grace of their sacred architecture. But evidences of this kind are entirely circumstantial. Still curiosity must be satisfied with them, till more definite discoveries are made. We may reasonably expect that when the attention of archeologists shall be turned in earnest to the antiquities of our Continent, new facts will appear, and a more definite history will be wrought out of them. The light which recent discoveries have thrown on the ancient history of Nineveh, encourage the belief that similar research might bring out here some fresh landmarks of the old time. But we must rest on imperfect conjecture till another Layard devotes a life to the task. Meanwhile, it is pleasant to reflect on what scenes may have transpired here—what hopes may have been realized, and what plans may have triumphed. Swains may have turned the rude soil, and cheered their labor with songs of their love. Poets may have chanted their lays beneath the cypress trees, and hoped for immortality. Philosophers may have bowed under venerated systems, and patriots may have toiled and suffered like martyrs. Yet the dynasties rolled on till the Empire rose, culminated and decayed. Conceits which animate and encourage us, gave to them all the vain assurance of an immortal history. They attempted to fortify their fame with massive altars, built in the shadow of cedar groves, and with enduring temples adorned with symbols of their faith. They cherished vain illusions. The cedars still grow above their relics;—a few desecrated altars, a few mouldering columns;-but their names are blotted out forever. They did not trust in God who loves just men and will not cast down those who trust in Him. D. A. G. Public Monuments. INSTITUTIONS and customs which are universal as respects both time and place, may reasonably be supposed to have a foundation in the principles of human nature. Local and temporary causes produce limited and transient effects, but observances cherished among all nations, and in every age, spring from one common root, equally extensive, and are as fountains fed from the same subterranean stream. Prominent among these universal customs is that of showing honor to the dead. By its unvarying prevalence this practice proves itself to have its source in human nature, and to be native to the human soul. How refined and elevating, how consonant with each noble impulse of the man, is that attachment by which our hearts are bound to the loved and lost! We cherish their memory as a sacred treasure in our heart of hearts, and seek to console our "widowed affections" by heaping honors upon the lifeless dust with which was once associated so much delight. Whether viewed as a natural impulse, or judged at the tribunal of enlightened reason, that feeling meets with a ready approval, which in the solemn rites of sepulture, or by the sculptured monument, seeks to testify the strength of surviving friendship, or to perpetuate the memory of the departed. There is, however, another manifestation of the same sentiment, which has not received universal approbation, and that is the public honors bestowed upon those who as eminent scholars, wise statesmen, or victorious warriors, have promoted a nation's welfare, or added to its renown. While readily acknowledging the propriety of testimonials to private worth, and of tokens of personal attachment, many are found who object to like observances, when a nation has become the mourner, and public sorrow would manifest itself in public signs of bereavement. If rightly examined, however, sepulchral honors, both public and private, whether offered by a nation or a family, will be seen to rest upon the same foundation, and to find justification in the same sentiment. Public monuments to the illustrious dead, viewed either in the "calm light of mild philosophy," or upon the simple score of justice, will find ample support in reason. But to take still lower ground, and considering the system as forming an element of national policy, they will appear by no means vain or useless. The memories of its great and good men, form a nation's richest treasure and brightest ornaments; their examples are its most forcible instructors. Whatever tends therefore to perpetuate these memories, or to give prominence to these examples, should be valued as a powerful promoter of national improvement. Such are the natural effects of public monuments, and therefore do they commend themselves to our approval. Let cold utilitarians prate of the worthlessness of such offerings, and tell how insensible to all praise is the lifeless clod beneath. Such cavilings are futile, for it is not the profit of the dead, but the improvement of the living, which is herein sought. These beholding the ever-present memorials of departed worthies, will learn to copy their examples, and to emulate their virtues. Though dead, they yet speak, for "the tomb of a good man may supply the want of his presence, and veneration for his memory produce the same effect as imitation of his life." Thus public monuments become by association with those whom they commemorate, public instructors and schools of the national mind. In solemn tone they seem ever to rehearse the worthy deeds of those whose dust rests beneath, and with uplifted finger to point out to others the same path to glory which they trod. As the study of the lives of great men is universally esteemed, a powerful incentive to honorable conduct, so do public monuments serve in a still higher degree the same end. If in reading the recorded exploits of ancient heroes we feel a kindling of generous emotions, and a momentary aspiration after their worth and their reward, how must the susceptible mind be animated with a noble ambition in contemplating not by occasional perusal, but in a remembrance excited by continual observation, the wise counsel and brave deeds of departed sages and warriors, and when even their sculptured forms seem to enforce their own instructions. Who could, without emotion, behold these memorials, or stand unmoved upon the consecrated spot “Where speaking marbles show What worthier form the hallowed mould below, And saints who taught and led the way to heaven!" Thus do public monuments erected by a people to perpetuate the memory of its benefactors, appear connected with great political advantages, since they tend to give prominence to examples and increased power to precepts which, rightly improved, will, in a high degree, promote national virtue and prosperity. But, further, monumental edifices exercise a powerful influence in the promotion of patriotism, and in this view, also, should form a part of a wise system of national policy. The sentiment of attachment by which men are bound to those spots where rests the dust of departed friends is both natural and powerful. Nations as well as individuals, acknowledge its influence and yield to its sway. Even roving tribes of savages, upon whose regard no locality could seem able to maintain a hold, confess a patriotic attachment to that spot which is hallowed by the bones of their ancestors. Thus a nation which is continually reminded by these sepulchral memorials that the soil on which it treads is rendered sacred by the ashes of its benefactors and heroes, will be inspired with a still stronger affection toward it, and will exhibit in its defense a more unyielding courage. In ancient times, Athens observed the power of this principle, and employed it not ineffectually for the promotion of her interests. Hence, in training her youth for citizenship, the state made it a primary object to keep before their eyes the memorials of those who in former periods had by wise counsels or invincible courage, merited the title of public benefactors, to which she might point and say, "This the reward which grateful Athens gives; Here still the patriot and the hero lives; The influence of such a system may well have been deemed powerful, for what citizen could stand in her midst, and while beholding on either hand in the cloud-capped pillar, the stately edifice, or the marble form, almost instinct with life, the mementoes of the valor of his ancestors, yet not feel a fresh glow of patriotism and a renewed determination never to prove himself unworthy of his inheritance. And when her great orator, rising to the utmost heighth of sublime eloquence, as he uttered that mighty oath, swore by the illustrious dead who rested beneath her PUBLIC MONUMENTS, how must each Athenian heart have beat high with courage, while the firm look and the flashing eye spoke defiance to every foe! By these and similar considerations, are made manifest the utility of sepulchral honors offered by a nation to the memory of its benefactors and ornaments. But such a view of the subject is by no means the highest or most interesting that may be taken. The system rests upon other grounds than considerations of public policy, and gives rise to higher and more useful influences than even devotion to the general weal. Public monuments in commemoration of great men and mighty events, tend powerfully to perpetuate and enforce great ideas and principles. The spirit of the mighty deeds which gave them origin, seems ever to cluster around them and to be communicated with irresistible force to the heart of every spectator. They lift us for a moment above the narrow circle of our daily thoughts and link us to the ages past, by a common admiration for noble sentiments and heroic achievements. Thus do the great ideas from which they rose live with them and become impressed upon the hearts of succeeding generations. Who can stand before that lofty column which marks the spot where our revolutionary struggle first began, and not feel the heroic spirit of those times thrilling his breast and animating him with a fresh devotion to their immortal principles? Or, as future generations shall gaze upon the proud monument which will stand through coming time as the token of a nation's gratitude to its founder, and in recollection dwell upon his life until in imagination they -"call from the dust The sleeping hero," how can they but be inspired with his own great ideas and sublime sentiments? Further, considered as the just rewards of public benefactors, national monuments find ample justification and a ready approval. Too often is it seen that those who, by commanding talents and self-sacrificing toils, have conferred glory upon their country or lasting benefit upon mankind, pass away unappreciated and unhonored. Thenceforward, indeed, no praises can reach their ears, no honors rejoice their hearts. No resource remains to a nation repenting of former neglect and ingratitude, save to consecrate their memories and to perpetuate their fame. Such late testimonials of public esteem serve also as incentives to others who are now suffering similar neglect, by showing that they who devote themselves to their country's good, shall not, in the end, want that country's gratitude. They speak in tones of encouragement to those who, amid the rage of party strife, themselves, perhaps, the objects of relentless enmity, yet pursue the path of duty, and assure them that when they lie mouldering in the dust, beyond the reach alike of friend and foe, their names will be vindicated, and that their fame, then cleared of each obscuring cloud, will shine forth in effulgent beauty and be perpetuated with growing lustre to the end of time. If compared with that custom as universal as it is of unquestioned propriety which prompts the mourner to erect the private memorial of friendship at the tomb of departed worth, the institution now being considered will be found to merit equal commendation. As every human heart responds in cordial sympathy to that sentiment which rears the |