ow?

How rapid these transitions! Two hundred years have scarcely rolled
away--other nations, with the fabrics they have raised, have been
precipitated to the dust; but they have departed, full of years, and men
and things have run their race together. But here, the last in all
their splendour, while the energies of the former have decayed, remain;
and where have we a more melancholy picture of humanity, either in an
individual or in a nation, than when we survey the body that has
outlived the mind?

Since the world began, history is but the narrative of kingdoms and
states progressing to maturity or decay. Man himself is but an epitome
of the nations of men. In youth, all energy; in prime of life, all
enterprise and vigour; in senility, all weakness and second childhood.
Then, England, learn thy fate from the unerring page of time. Sooner or
later, it shall arrive that thou shalt be tributary to some nation,
hitherto, I trust, unborn; and thy degenerate sons shall read that
liberty was once the watchword of the isle, and yet not even feel a
longing to be free.

As the _Aspasia_ lay nearly becalmed at the entrance of the harbour, a
small boat, rowed by two men, pulled towards her, and the occupant of
the stern-sheets, as he came alongside, stated, in bad English, that he
brought "present for captain," and was allowed to come up the side by
the first-lieutenant, who was on deck. He was a native friar, and
disgusting as the dress is, when worn by an European in a northern
clime, it appeared still more so, enveloping a black under the torrid
zone. He carried a little covered basket in his hand, and stated that
he had been sent by the superior of the convent, which he pointed to, on
the headland at the mouth of the harbour. The first-lieutenant went
down into the cabin, and reported to the captain.

"A present!" observed Captain M---; "I hope it is not a monkey. `_Timeo
Danaos et dona ferentes_.'"

The first-lieutenant, who had forgotten his Latin, made no answer, but
returned on deck, where he was shortly after followed by Captain M---.

The sable votary of St. Francis made his bow, and opening the lid of his
basket, pulled out a cabbage with a long stalk and four or five flagging
leaves, but no heart to it. "Superior send present to Inglez capitown."
And having laid it carefully on the carronade slide, fumbled in his
pocket for some time, and eventually produced a dirty sheet of paper, on
which, written i