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visit Rome, too, if that be really necessary to make you great.

But how?' asked Flaxman.

Work and economise,' rejoined the brave wife; I will never have it said that Ann Denham ruined John Flaxman for an artist.' And so it was determined by the pair that the journey to Rome was to be made when their means would admit.

"I will go to Rome,' said Flaxman, and shew the president that wedlock is for a man's good rather than his harm; and you, Ann, shall accompany me!'

Patiently and happily this affectionate couple plodded on during five years in that humble little home in Wardour Street, always with the long journey to Rome before them. It was never lost sight of for a moment, and not a penny was uselessly spent that could be saved towards the necessary expenses.

At length Flaxman and his wife, having thriftily accumulated a sufficient store of savings, set out for Rome. Arrived there, he applied himself diligently to study, maintaining himself, like other poor artists, by making copies. He prepared to return to England, his taste improved and cultivated by careful study.

His fame had preceded him, and he soon found abundant lucrative employment. While at Rome, he had been commissioned to execute his famous monument in memory of Lord Mansfield, and it was erected in the north transept of Westminster Abbey shortly after his return. It stands there in majestic grandeur, a monument to the genius of Flaxman himself-calm, simple, and severe. No wonder that Banks, the sculptor, then in the heyday of his fame, exclaimed, when he saw it: "This little man cuts us all out!'

He was soon after elected a member of the Royal Academy. His progress was now rapid, and he was constantly employed. Perseverance and study, which had matured his genius, had made him great, and he went on from triumph to triumph. But he appeared in yet a new character. The little boy, who had begun his studies behind the poor plaster-cast seller's shopcounter in New Street, Covent Garden, was now a man of high intellect and recognised supremacy in art, and was elected to instruct aspiring students in the character of Professor of Sculpture to the Royal Academy! And no man better deserved to fill that distinguished office, for none is so able to instruct others as he who for himself, and by his own almost unaided efforts, has learned to grapple with and overcome difficulties.

Flaxman's monuments are known nearly all over England. Whatever work of this kind he executed, he threw a soul and meaning into it.

Flaxman died after a long, peaceful, and happy life, having survived his wife Ann several years.

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ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM

VICISSITUDE.

1.
Now the golden morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft

She woos the tardy Spring :
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.

2. New-born flocks, in rustic dance,

Frisking ply their feeble feet; Forgetful of their wintry trance

The birds his presence greet : But chief, the sky-lark warbles high His trembling thrilling ecstasy; And lessening from the dazzled sight, Melts into air and liquid light.

3. Yesterday the sullen year

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,

The herd stood drooping by :
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know;
'Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.

4. Smiles on past Misfortune's brow

Soft Reflection's hand can trace, And o'er the cheek of Sorrow throw

A melancholy grace ; While Hope prolongs our happier hour, Or deepest shades, that dimly lour And blacken round our weary way, Gilds with a gleam of distant day.

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The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended, form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.

6.
See the wretch that long has tossed

On the thorny będ of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost

And breathe and walk again :
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.

SEA-FOG, AND WRECK.

On the 9th of May, we reached Halifax, off which port we were detained in a very disagreeable way; for we had

; the misfortune to be kept three whole days off the harbour, in one of those Nova-Scotia fogs, which are celebrated all over the world. I can hardly give by description an idea of how gloomy they are; but I think their effects may be compared to those of the sirocco, with the further annoyance that, while they last, we are not able to see far beyond our noses. They are even worse than rain, for they seem to wet one through sooner ; while they make everything appear dreary, and certainly render every one lazy and discontented.

On the day we made the land, we had great hopes of being able to enter the harbour, as the wind was fair :

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when, all at once, we were surrounded by so thick a mist, that, for the three succeeding days, we could not see above twenty yards on any side.

There are few things, indeed, more provoking than these fogs off Halifax; for, as they happen to be companions of that very wind, the south-east, which is the best for running in, the navigator is plagued with the tormenting consciousness, that if he could be allowed but a couple of hours' clear weather, his port would be gained, and his troubles over. The clearing up, therefore, of these odious clouds or veils is about the most delightful thing I know; and the instantaneous effect which a dis tinct sight of the land, or even of the sharp horizon, when far at sea, has on the mind of every person on board, is quite remarkable. All things look bright, fresh, and more beautiful than ever. The stir over the whole ship at these moments is so great, that even persons sitting below can tell at once that the fog has cleared away. clatter of the men's feet springing up the hatchways, at the lively sound of the boatswain's call to make sail !' soon follows. Then comes the cheerful voice of the officer, hailing the topmen to shake out the reefs, trice up the stay-sails, and rig out the booms. That peculiar and wellknown kind of echo, also, by which the sound of the voice is thrown back from the wet sails, contributes, in like manner, to produce a joyous elasticity of spirits, greater, I think, than is excited by most of the ordinary occurrences of a sea-life.

A year or two after the time I am speaking of, it was resolved to place a heavy gun upon the rock on which Sambro light-house is built; and, after a good deal of trouble, a long twenty-four pounder was hoisted up to the highest ridge of this prominent station.

The rapid

It was

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