pomp, each followed by a number of small volumes and pamphlets, like so many pages or footmen watching the beck of their master, "You behold here," said the demon, "all the false works upon theology which have been written since the beginning of the Christian era. They are condemned to wander about to all eternity, in the hopeless maze of this labyrinth, each folio drawing after it all the minor works to which it gave origin." A faint light shone from these ponderous tomes; but it was like the shining of a lamp in a thick mist, shorn of its rays, and illuminating nothing around it. And if my companion had not held a torch before me, I should not have discerned the outlines of this department of the Infernal world. As my eye became somewhat accustomed to the feeble light, I discovered beyond the labyrinth a thick mist, which appeared to rise from some river or lake. 66 That," said my companion, "is the distinct abode of German metaphysical works, and other treatises of a similar unintelligible character. They are all obliged to pass through a press; and if there is any sense in them, it is thus separated from the mass of nonsense in which it is imbedded, and is allowed to escape to a better world. Very few of the works, however, are found to be materially diminished by passing through the press." We had now crossed the plain, and stood near the impenetrable fog, which rose up like a wall before us. In front of it was the press, managed by several ugly little demons, and surrounded by an immense number of volumes of every

size and shape, waiting for the process which all were obliged to undergo. As I was watching their operations, I saw two very respectable German folios, with enormous clasps, extended like arms, carrying between them a little volume, which they were fondling like a pet child, with marks of doating affection. These folios proved to be two of the most abstruse, learned, and incomprehensible of the metaphysical productions of Germany; and the bantling which they seemed to embrace with so much affection, was registered on the back "Records of a School." I did not find that a single ray of intelligence had been extracted from either of the two, after being subjected to the press. As soon as the volumes had passed through the operation of yielding up all the little sense they contained, they plunged into the intense fog, and disappeared for ever.

We next approached the verge of a gulf, which seemed to be bottomless; and there was dreadful noise, like the war of the elements, and forked flames shooting up from the abyss, which reminded me of the crater of Vesuvius. "You have now reached the ancient limits of hell," said the demon,

and you behold beneath your feet the original chaos on which my domains are founded. But within a few years we have been obliged to build a yet deeper division beyond the gulf, to contain a class of books that were unknown in former times." "Pray, what class can be found,” I asked, worse than those which I have already seen, and for which

66

66

it appears hell was not bad enough?" They are American reprints of English publications," replied he," and they are generally works of so despicable a character, that they would have found their way here without being re-published; but even where the original work was good, it is so degenerated by the form under which it re-appears in America, that its merit is entirely lost, and it is only fit for the seventh and lowest division of hell.

66

I now perceived a bridge spanning over the gulf, with an arch that seemed as lofty as the firmament. We hastily passed over, and found that the farthest extremity of the bridge was close by a gate, over which was written three words. They are the names of the three furies who reign over this division," said my guide. I of course did not contradict him; but the words looked very much like some I had seen before; and the more I examined them, the more difficult it was to convince myself, that the inscription was not the same thing as the sign over a certain publishing house in Philadelphia.

"These," said the Devil," are called the three furies of the hell of books; not from the mischief they do there to the works about them, but for the unspeakable wrong they did to the same works upon the earth, by re-printing them in their hideous brown paper editions." As soon as they beheld me, they rushed towards me with such piteous accents and heart-moving entreaties, that I would intercede to save them from their torment, that I was moved with

the deepest compassion, and began to ductor if there were no relief for them.

ask my con

But he hur

ried me away, assuring me that they only wanted to sell me some of their infernal editions, and the idea of owning any such property was so dreadful that I awoke directly.

EXTRACTS FROM UNPUBLISHED LECTURES.

VISIT TO POMPEII.

It was my good fortune, in the autumn of the year 1832, to visit this interesting place, and I shall endeavor, without entering into any learned antiquarian disquisition, to give a simple account of the city, as it appeared then.

Leaving Naples early in the morning, with a number of friends, we followed the road along the seashore for nearly twenty miles, when we were told that we were approaching Pompeii. Vast mounds, formed by the ashes that have been cleared out of the streets, also indicated this. We stopped at á small stone cottage; and, alighting from our carriage, passed through a small narrow gate, which appeared to me to be cut in the garden wall. But no sooner had we crossed the threshold, than we found ourselves, indeed, in a scene of other days; the present had vanished, and we were standing in a place which we felt belonged not to modern ages. We were in a large open square, surrounded by a Doric colonnade, opening into numerous small apartments. The columns are of brick, covered with