Mr. Roszel, we have good reason for knowing, is a scholar, of classical knowledge more extensive, and far more accurate than usual. In his very elegant Address on Education now before us, he has confined {717} himself to the consideration of “tutorial instruction as embraced under the divisions of the subjects to be taught, and the manner of teaching them.” Of the first branch of his theme, the greater portion is occupied in a defence of the learned tongues from the encroachments of a misconceived utilitarianism, and in urging their suitableness as a study for the young. Here, Mr. R. is not only forcible, but has contrived to be in a great measure, original. We are especially pleased to see that, in giving due weight to the ordinary ethical and merely worldly considerations on this topic, he has most wisely dwelt at greater length on the loftier prospective benefits, and true spiritual uses of classical attainment. We cite from this portion of the address a passage of great fervor and beauty. But are there not translations? If there were, a perusal of them would be profitless, for it is to be borne in mind, that the tenor of the preceding remarks has been uniformly to demonstrate the advantages, not only of a perusal, but of the study of the dead languages. And so this question is destitute of pertinence. But there never was a translation of an ancient author. Versions there are, a majority of them dull and spiritless, lifeless and jejune, but they are not translations. And so are there odorless roses, and there might be beamless suns. As in religion we aspire to drink from the fountain head so let it be in literature. Let us be imbued with its spiritual influences; for no one that has pondered them well can remain unimpressed by the magnificent divulgement of quenchless, illimitable intellect, by the resplendency of thought which bursts forth and glows with a steady fervor, in the pages of the blind bard of Greece, and the keen-sighted orator of Rome, with a vigor and intensity so powerful, that the typographical characters themselves seem to stand out, vivid and lustrous, like sentient gems, myriads of sparkling emanations, burning and lucent, flashing a sentiment in every word, an axiom in every line, a corollary in every paragraph. There is an inborn inexpressible satisfaction to the mind well attuned, in being able to appreciate the beauty and the strength, the essence and vitality of those inimitable and indestructible periods of the Athenian orator which called the ruddy blush of shame to the pallid cheek of the coward, stirred the elements of enthusiastic honor to tempestuous agitation, and excited the irrepressible shout, To battle! there is a chaste delight in perusing the cutting satire, the splendid objurgations, and the brilliant invectives of that eloquence, which startled the world's victor from his unsteady throne, and speaking in