of ordinary existence, far out of hearing of the murmurs of a busy world, which discord ravages, and luxury corrupts. We asked for the album, and a large folio was brought to us, almost filled with the scrawls of every nation on earth that could write. Instantly our fatigue was forgotten, and the evening passed away pleasantly in the entertainment which this book afforded us. I copied the following French couplet :

"Dans ces sauvages lieux tout orgueil s'humanise; Dieu s'y montre plus grand; l'homme s'y pulverise!" (Signed.) P. ED. TRENIR."

I wish I could preserve the elegance, as well as the condensed sentiment, of the original :

"Still are these rugged realms; e'en pride is hush'd; God seems more grand; man crumbles into dust."

FREEMASONS' HALL, BATH.

In Church-street, Bath, stands the Freemasons' Hall, an elegant building of free stone, and a great ornament to the city. The exterior is a fine piece of Grecian architecture, and has a small portico in front, with pillars of the Ionic order. On the top of the building are symbols of masonry, and figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity. The building owes its origin and completion to Mr. Witney, a chemist, in Bath, and the architect is Mr. Wilkins, author of Magna Grecia, who has preserved a strict Masonic appearance in the building, even to the very knockers, which are triangular.

The interior of this edifice is very complete and convenient. The great room, or hall, is fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. Opposite the entrance from the hall door, at the bottom of the room, stands the master's chair, upon an elevation, with an ascent of three steps, of black and white marble, supported by two lions. Over the chair is a neat gallery, supported by pillars, in the centre of which is an exquisitely fine-toned organ. In the front of the gallery is the " all-seeing eye," handsomely painted: the whole is lighted by well sky-lights, and ornamented with handsome chandeliers.

The first stone of this building was laid on the 28th of July, 1817, in the presence of the four lodges of masons belonging to Bath; and on the 28th of September, 1818, the hall was opened, when Dr. Gavin Browne delivered an elegant oration on the occasion, and the new and fine-toned organ was opened. The whole expense of the building was three thousand pounds.

THE POET'S DREAM.

The poet sleeps in his attic rude,
And visions over his brain are dancing;
Now he sees, in frolic mood,

The tiny fays of night advancing.

Round and round, in their careless glee,
The clear blue lake they softly skim,

And oft in their wayward revelry,

They point their ebony wands at him.

Now, to the measure of elfin lyre,

And lute, they move in their reckless play;
Or with wands erect, in gay attire,

Featly, march on their star-lit way.

Hushed are elfin lyre and lute,

'Tis the thrilling bugle and rolling drum ;
A column of soldiers, proud and mute,
Hither in bold array they come.

Fierce, they encounter the shadowy foe,-
He hears the roar and the din of war,
The clarion peal, and the shriek of woe,
And sees the lances gleaming far.

The poet arose at the break of day,
With a firm and heroic air,

And he framed a glowing and martial lay
Of deeds that were done in the olden day;
Of knights, who their bold compeers did slay,
'Mid the cymbals' clash, and the trumpets' bray,
And were crowned with palm trees there.

Dans ces lieux souterrains, dans ces sombres abîmes,
La mort confusément, entasse ses victimes.

Legouvé, Poëme des Sépultures.

Gli uomani hanno in orrore la morte, io no.-Tasso.

In these dark vaults, in wild confusion laid,
Death's victims rest-the temple of the dead.

I have often heard the painter, Robert, recount, and always with increased interest, his adventure in the catacombs of Rome. The plain and simple recital of his fears and agonies in this frightful situation, excites in me, after the lapse of twenty years, an emotion of terror, which cannot, perhaps, be produced by the whole of the admirable poem of M. de Lille on the same subject. I remember the opening of this moving episode.

Sous les remparts de Rome et sous ces vastes plaines,
Sont des autres profondo, des voûtes souterraines.
Qui, pendant deux milles ans, creusés par les humains,
Donnèrent leur rochers aux palais des Romains.