SIR,-It has been remarked by Mr. Locke that the mind receives more pleasure in the contemplation of things past than in those which are present, and that the former, handed down by the pages of history, reach us through a medium mellowed by the hand of time, and sanctified by the admiration of intermediate ages. This study has not only its advantages in delighting the imagination, but also in tranquillizing the mind and improving the better faculties of humanity. We war not with the past, for even if we dissent from the conclusions of those who have gone before us, we at least venerate their authority, and whether we contemplate the virtues of eminently good men of former days-whether the deep researches of the philosopher -the charmed voice of the poet-the luminous pages of the historian, or the gigantic efforts of the scientific-we see them unmixed with prejudice, unswayed by passion. We behold through the mind's eye "the great of old" with wonder and delight, nor is our astonishment less excited by the fruits of their superior knowledge in those splendid remains, both in science and in art, which at this day direct our judgment and induce our imitation. To this subject my attention has been lately more particularly called by looking over some splendid representations of Greek architecture, the perfection of taste and durability, and upon whose model almost all our public and private buildings, pretending to distinction, have, since their introduction by Inigo Jones, been erected. It is not, however, with a view of dilating upon their excellence that I have introduced these splendid remains to your notice, but I have done so with the view of affording a few remarks upon a long disputed point connected with one of these works of former days-the arch of Adrian-but by some called the arch of Egeus. Were NO. I. B it really the arch of Egeus, or had that monarch ever erected a similar structure, the often discussed and still undecided question as to the origin of the arch would long since have been put to rest; but as that is not the case, I shall, with every respect for those learned disquisitionists who have so ably treated the subject, offer a few remarks upon this elegant and useful order. It may be difficult to fix the exact period of the reign of Ægeus, but it is universally allowed to be much anterior to the retreat of Xerxes, and it appears more than probable, had an arch been understood in his day, that it would have been introduced into some at least of those magnificent structures whose erection followed that important æra of Greek history. It must be admitted that the applicability of the segment of a circle to architectural purposes, as exhibited in the lanthorn of Demosthenes, was known to the Greeks, but the applicability of the arch was not known, consequently, so far as I am acquainted with early Greek architecture, never used by them at the time or anterior to such retreat. Although Mr. Pope, in his beautiful paraphrase of Homer's Iliad, repeatedly describes domes and arched columns, yet little is he borne out by the original text, in which not one word is discoverable warranting their use, or which could convey to the reader the inference even that in the whole of Priam's spacious palace one arch existed; nor has one been discovered in the ruins of Persepolis, nor in the other ancient buildings upon which time has laid a more gentle hand. It is well known that there are writers who maintain an opposite opinion. A late very entertaining traveller maintained that the pointed arch had existed in Asia Minor from the earliest periods, but the investigations of a friend proved the fallacy of the hypothesis, and shewed to him that it existed only in his sanguine expectation. The supposed tomb of Ajax presented the wished for construction, but a little cool enquiry discovered that the keystone was wanting, and that the approach of two walls, even to contact, could not by possibility form an arch. The friends to the antiquity of the arch have not been more fortunate in their Egyptian researches, nor is a single unquestionable authority to be found through the whole of its architectural range, of a date preceding the invasion of Cæsar. Belzoni, a traveller of great perseverance and industry, found a single arched doorway in one of the pyramids, a model of which pyramid was, years back, exhibited in London; but, be it remembered, that the Romans were in possession of Egypt for several hundred years after the introduction of the arch into their own country, and there can be little doubt that, after breaking through the solid wall, they adopted the then Roman method of making an arched doorway as the means of future entrance into the pyramid. The Romans were accustomed to make architectural alterations in all countries which they conquered, and were peculiarly fond of introducing the arch wherever opportunity allowed. This opinion is farther confirmed by the absence of any other arch in the pyramid above alluded to, or in others of those wonderful structures wherein, at this period of time, it is clearly demonstrable that the chambers were not coved or vaulted, but were formed by stones projecting inwards, as the wall increased in height, and thus gradually sloping until the sides approaching each other, the roof was completed by cross stones. This will be seen more at large by reference to Norden's Travels in Egypt. The internal structure of the pyramid of Sakhara, which has been deemed an authority for the antiquity of the arch, is shewn by Mr. Burckhardt to have a roof of two plain surfaces, meeting at a point. The same principle of building by walls sloping inwards appears to have been applied to ancient bridges, and, judging from the remaining ruins, modern travellers have concluded that a similar plan was used in the erection of some of the stupendous structures which formed the once celebrated Babylon. How strongly is the view here taken, that the arch was unknown, antecedent to and during the time of Pericles, confirmed by the fact that the Greeks had not then a word descriptive of that order. It has been asserted by Mons. Dutens, in his work "Recherches an le tems le plus reculé des l'usage des Vontes chez les Anciens," that Aristotle applied the word as to the expression of that figure. Had there been any Greek word in general use at that period, the Seventy must have known it, nor would they have used TOɛOV to describe the rainbow. Supposing Aristotle was in possession of so much geometrical knowledge, a fact much doubted, let it not escape our recollection that he lived one hundred years after Pericles, the patron of the arts, and under whose sway Athens was ornamented with the greater part of its public buildings, and by whom others raised before his time were repaired and improved. But even if Aristotle discovered the principle of the arch, it by no means follows that it was applied in his day any more than gunpowder was used in that of Friar Bacon, who fully understood its power, or than steam in that of the celebrated Marquess of Worcester, who foresaw its extraordinary properties; and we know that neither were applied until long after the decease of their respective discoverers. By pursuing this subject further at present, I shall intrude too much upon your space; I will therefore take my leave with requesting permission to resume it in a future number, when I will endeavour to shew when the arch was first used. I am, Sir, R. F. MYSTERIES OF MEMORY. "I saw or dreamed of such,—but let them go- "" Childe Harold. THE Summer-the joyous Summer! who is there that, free to behold the face of nature, can resist the influence of a glorious day in the early summer, when the earth in its softest verdure seems a gleaming emerald, veined with lapis-lazuli, as the bright rivers wander by, dispensing freshness, and beauty, and salubrity around? When the thickets, the hedges, and orchards, the gardens, the banks, and the waysides are ringing with the harmony of unseen choristers, and the clouds themselves fleeting over the hill tops, seem to echo the glad cadence. When nature smiles in every feature, and displays but benevolence and love, can the soul of man be wrapped in the austerities of sadness and gloom? Impossible! unless there be something radically wrong within his breast. As the sun opens the calix of the flower, so does the aspect of creation expand the purest sympathies of the heart; infancy gladdens in the fresh meadow, laughs and exults at the sight of the grass, the daffodils, the hawthorn, the bee, the butterfly, the lady-bird, and claps its little hands from the impulses of a pleasure for which it cannot-and cares not to -account. Youth feels a glow, an elasticity, a revelling of the blood and a dancing of the heart as though sin and sorrow had no footing in the world, and, filled with sweet sensations, it goes forth wooing the brightest dreams of poetry. And age-yes, "frosted age" itself, experiences a sort of new vitality; it throws off the burthen of years, buries for a time its solicitudes, its apprehensions, its regrets, and its infirmities, and with kindling eye and a mantling cheek—with a freer gait and a firmer stepwelcomes the smiling train of memory to dismiss them with a peaceful abiding of the future, and a happy confidence in an all-protecting PROVIDENCE. From dwelling on the beautiful scenes of life, it can in such moments, calmly and fearlessly, and even with placidity, gaze on the "valley of the shadow of death," and piercing through the gloom, catch the murmur of the still waters, and the shades of the green pastures by which the Divine shepherd shall lead his flock. * * * * But all seasons have something sweet for memory, and winter brings its pleasant phantasmagoria. Creeping upon the steps of the autumn, it renders sea-coal fires, and air-tight window sashes, soft carpets and shadowy sinumbras, admirable components of comfort, and while the wind whistles without, and the rain rattles fiercely against the casement, there is to the solitary man a kind of dreamy delight in resigning himself to his fauteuil and his cigar, and as he bends an abstracted eye upon the cheering blaze, calling up the scenes that are no more. On such occasions Memory and Imagination rove arm-in-arm, and the paths of reality are often beautifully varied with the blossoms of fancy. With the old, the past has a power over the mind never possessed by the present moment; as an elder brother, it lays claim to the superiority of inheritance; "its joys were more elastic and its sorrows more poignant; its smiles were brighter and more beguiling, and its friendships and affections stronger and more engaging." In fact, its whole materiel, physical and moral, is weighed heavily against that of the time being. "The world is not what it was in my time!" sighs out the silver-haired Octogenarian, folding his hands with an air of tender regret"Bel et brave' was then the motto of the day; Man was chivalrous and Woman was divine! But, alas! our religion, our politics, our government, our laws, our commerce, our institutions, our manners and customs-even the very beauty, and grace, and intellect, and sociability of our land, are fast degenerating into their extremes. Well, well, 'All that's bright must fade !' "' and with this suspiciously modern quotation upon his lips, the venerable gentleman draws his head, tortoise-like, into the folds of his robe-de-chambre, and yields himself up to a slumber, in which the wit, the gallantry, the valour, the high breeding, the gaiety, the birth, the loveliness, the vivacity, the enchantments of the departed century rise in a brilliant galaxy before him. The grave gives up the dead, and pulseless age issues from the cauldron, glowing with the exquisite attractions of youth. Eyes that have long shone but on the canvas or the cherished ivory of the painter, by a mysterious resuscitation, beam and melt, and sparkle into life; and lips, whose bloom is but a memory, again deepen into ruby, and clothe themselves in the glorious witchery of smiles. And sweeter than the breeze stealing over the harp of Æolus, mellow and lute-like voices salute the ear of the dreamer. Lost in a revelation of ecstacy, he utters a suitable apostrophe, and wakens to find that his Trufitt has fallen upon the floor, and that his spectacles have, modestly, elected themselves to a sinecure upon his chin. The spell is destroyed; Time snatches up his crutch, his scythe, and his horologe, and the flattering delusion resolves into the realities of four-score. It is the lustre with which the affections love to envelope all that they preserve, which gives to the past a charm so indescriba |