terial, and form to defy the
"strong hours" which conquer all, it has bowed its head to their touch,
and passed into the inevitable cycle of decay. "And this too shall pass
away"--which the Eastern monarch engraved upon his signet ring--is
carved upon these Cyclopean blocks. The stones of the Coliseum were once
water; and they are now turning into dust. Such is ever the circle of
nature. The solid is changing into the fluid, and the fluid into the
solid; and that which is unseen is alone indestructible. He does not see
the Coliseum aright who carries away from it no other impressions than
those of form, size, and hue. It speaks an intelligible language to the
wiser mind. It rebukes the peevish and consoles the patient. It teaches
us that there are misfortunes which are clothed with dignity, and
sorrows that are crowned with grandeur. As the same blue sky smiles upon
the ruin which smiled upon the perfect structure, so the same beneficent
Providence bends over our shattered hopes and our answered prayers.

THE PANTHEON[9]

BY GEORGE STILLMAN HILLARD

The best preserved monument of ancient Rome, and one of the most
beautiful buildings of the modern city, is unhappily placed. The
Pantheon stands in a narrow and dirty piazza, and is shouldered and
elbowed by a mob of vulgar houses. There is no breathing-space around,
which it might penetrate with the light of its own serene beauty. Its
harmonious proportions can be seen only in front; and it has there the
disadvantage of being approached from a point higher than that on which
it stands. On one side is a market; and the space before the matchless
portico is strewn with fish-bones, decayed vegetables, and offal.[10]

Forsyth, the sternest and most fastidious of architectural critics, has
only "large draughts of unqualified praise" for the Pantheon; and, where
he finds nothing to censure, who will venture to do any thing but
commend? The character of the architecture, and the sense of
satisfaction which it leaves upon the mind, are proofs of the enduring
charm of simplicity. The portico is perfectly beautiful. It is one
hundred and ten feet long and forty-four deep, and rests upon sixteen
columns of the Corinthian order, the shafts being of granite and the
capitals of marble. Eight of these are in front, and of these eight,
there are four (including the two on the extreme right and left) which
have two others behind them; the portico being thus divided into three
p