entery; was carried back to Gato,
and thence put on board an English vessel lying off the coast. There,
with much firmness and resignation, he prepared to meet his end. He
intrusted the captain with a large amethyst to be given to his wife, and
also with a letter which he wrote to his companion through good and evil
days. Soon afterward, he breathed his last. They buried him at Gato, at
the foot of a large tree, and engraved on his tomb the following epitaph
in English--

"_Here lies Belzoni, who died at this place, on his way to Timbuctoo,
December 3d, 1823._"

Belzoni was but forty-five years old when he died. A statue of him was
erected at Padua, on the 4th of July, 1827. Very recently, the
government of Great Britain bestowed on his widow the tardy solace of a
small pension.

Giovanni Belzoni, the once starving mountebank, became one of the most
illustrious men in Europe!--an encouraging example to all those who have
not only sound heads to project, but stout hearts to execute.

PHANTOMS AND REALITIES.--AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

(_Continued from Page 613._)

PART THE SECOND--NOON.

V.

To reason upon the effects of the discovery, or confession of our
feelings, was not a process for which either of us was qualified by
temperament or inclination. We did not pause to consider whether it was
prudent to take our hearts and natures for granted all at once, and risk
upon the strange delight of a single moment of luxurious emotion the
happiness, perhaps, of a whole lifetime. We did not stop to ask if there
were any obstacles in the way, any jarring chords to be attuned, any
thing to be known or thought of into which our position demanded a
scrutiny. We resigned ourselves at once to our impulses. We believed
that we had seen enough of the world, and were strong enough in our
self-sustaining power, and clear enough in our penetration, to dispense
with ordinary safeguards, and act as if we were superior to them. We
made our own world, and so went on as if we could control the planet in
which we lived at our own will and pleasure.

I soon perceived that my attentions to Astraea had become a subject of
much remark. The peering coterie about us were so vigilant in matters of
that kind, that, as it appeared afterward, they had found out the fact
before it had taken place. For my own part, there was nobody half so
much surprised at the circumstance as I was myself. I believed that the
heart, like that plant which is sa