Its venerable honours registered Deep in the heart of living Italy-- A crown of many-tinted sanctities. Thy beauty, goodness, and pure innocence, Thy faculty of vision, gift divine, Rushed round thee as a glory--thou wert seen With all thy laurels round thy honoured tomb. Thine is no pile of unrecording stone-- Pale marble column or tall pyramid, That vainly robs oblivion of its prey: Thy name lives on each lip--thy monuments Are treasures fondly kept midst precious things, Sought out in every land which the sun warms To nobler thoughts--thine are perennial wreaths Of trophies yet surviving, when the fame Of fields that rang through Europe, and made pale The peaceful hamlets of an hundred realms, Have shrunk within the fretted register, The silent scroll, named History--still the halls Of national state or regal pomp are bright With thy far-sought creations, costliest Among the treasured trophies of the mind; And as thy time on earth was consecrated To sacred labours meet for holy walls-- So would I deem thy gifted spirit still, Invested in its light of heavenly thoughts, The minister of some pure temple, where No human errors mingle with the work. ON THE POWER OF FLUIDS. That weight is a property of liquids, has been acknowledged by the earliest observers; but the amount of that weight, its mode of acting, and application to practice, have been left for recent times to discover. A pint of water weighs somewhat more than a pound avoirdupois; and one unacquainted with the facts in hydrostatics might deem it of little consequence what shape the vessel that contained it might be, or what the disposition and length of the column of water--for, after all, what is it but a pound of water? No idea can be more erroneous. Under most circumstances, it is not so much the quantity of the fluid as the manner in which its particles are disposed, that determines its weight; and what may appear still more extraordinary, a small quantity of fluid may be made to balance, that is, to be of the same apparent weight as, a very large quantity. This may be proved by taking a pair of scales, putting a tumbler full of water into one dish, and balancing it by weights in the other, then inverting a smaller glass and immersing it in the tumbler, having the glass perfectly supported in the hand to prevent it touching the sides or bottom; a portion of the water will now flow over the sides of the tumbler--say one-half--yet the scales are still balanced; one-half of the water is of the same weight apparently as the whole. A piece of wood may be used instead of the glass with the same result, and it may be of a size nearly to fill the cavity of the tumbler; yet if the remaining water, which may amount to no more than a couple of spoonfuls, rise to the same level as it did when full, it will exactly balance the weights.