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notion exists, instiled there by education, and contrary to reason. There are few minds m which there is not some linrering remnant, something of the foul weeds, still clihglhg around them. It is singular anomaly, too--for men of the very strong- est minds are often found to hold the most absurd and seiiseiess ideas with reaard to the supernatural. It seems us though there was certain cavern in the mind, specially appropriated to be the habitation of super- stition-into which Reason never enters. , and where her starry eye never shines. In other matters they are keen and shrewd-- they adopt no theory in science or philoso- phv, without clear, discriminating, logical l investigati6n--bu whenever Reason assails the strong hold of Superstition, she IS bea,- en back, overcome and discomfted. The i absurdity of creed is no objection 10 it-- and, in fact. the more absurd # Is, the more worthy does if seem to be considered the offspring ef Divine Wisdom. II is not our purpose, however, to discuss creeds and religions-these are matters not included in our plan and intention.

 But although we hold all superstition to be debasing and degrading. there will arise feeling of regret, when we look back on the dissipated and demolished dreams of the ancient mythology-those splendid fc- tlons, once so religiousy believed in, but now shorn of their glory. One can almost wish for the revival of those creeds which held that earth, air, and sea were peopled by lnnumerable Deities. We love to shut our eyes, and dream of the old mythology of Greece. Then we see the great Gods presiding over the stars and the elements. We see Apollo, 4 the God of life, and po- esy, and light" wheeling the sun in his eternal course through the untrodGen depths of heaven. Diana, with bow in hand and quivef at her back, looks out upon us from the calm and beautiful moon. Neptune turns hls foamihg steeds, and rides over the 1 still surface of the sea-and Venus rises again, apparreled in her own lustrous beau- ty, from the white foam and the blue depths of the ocean. Proteus tends his immense herds of ungainly sea-monsters along the sanded and jewelled shores of the tum- 1 bling main. Nereus and Amphitrite are seen in their coral chambers. The Satyrs are beheld, dancing under the beech trees, or reclining in the trembling shade--and universal Pan is heard, playing his meiodi- ous pipe. We fill the cup with red wine, and Bacchus comes riding through the ripe vineyards in his tiger-drawn chariot-with old Silenus testing behind him. We go into the woods, to the mountains, to the 1 springs, to the still ocean-and numberless nymphs are present every where. Every tree has it's Dryad to protect 1t. The Ore- ads sit on the shaggy crests of the moun- tains-the Nereids dwell under the blue mist of the waves--and the Nasads guard the clear springs and fountains. 1t was q beautiful and sublime mythology, but it has vanished from actual existence. like the up- rolling of the clouds from the gates of the sunrise. Pomona no longer watches the ci- der press, nor does Vertumnus guard the ripe fruits of autumn. All have disappear ed-and they only live before us i'll the pa- ges of ihe poet. There was undoubtedly something pleasant in thus peopling every nook and corner of creation with beings, assimilated in some measure to the nature of man, and designed for his happiness and protection. It increased the fellowship which men felt for nature--and, perhaps, 1t bettered their feelings. The Genm of Ara l by, and the Ferris of Persia have also van- ished-and with them the Gnomes and Brownies, and the Sylphs and Fairies in whom our ancestors so religiously beley- ed. The maiden does not now count the fairy rings on the dewy grass, nor are the shr.ll songs of the Pixies heard in the still evening. Our superstitlons have become more groyelling and less poetical-fof 1t cannot be denied that these imaginary be- :. ings were in the highest degree poetical-- and added much to the wild charm of those poets who embodied them in their works. Who does not love the 'i dainty Ariel" of that woudrous magician, Shakespeare who l delights not in his descriptions of the " fair and queenly Titania!" Oh we could al- most wish ourselves transferred from these fair, well-spoken," sober days of plain 1 matter of fact, to the antique times, when nature was held to be alive with supernatu- ral and unearthly crowds of beings. We still love to cling to a poetical belief in l thetn-to think that we see them around us in every spot where we commune with nature-that we hear chorus of voices in the babbling of the fonntains, the rustling of the green leaves, and tile low song of the winds. Any thing to remove us from the cold realities of the world, its toiling and turmoil, its labor and weariness. There E a reality in these dreams of fancy, which sometimes inclines US to believe that even ] this our waking and embodied lite IS only a dream from which death is to awaken us. l But these are all vagaries. Excuse us for them and for our tediousness. We can l well make Up for the loss of the Actions of