3. And, where the sickly taper shed

Its light through vapors, damp, confined,
A new Electra by the bed

Of suffering human-kind!

Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay,
To that pure hope which fadeth not away.

4. Innocent teacher of the high

And holy mysteries of Heaven!
In mute and awful sympathy,
As thy low prayers were given;

And the o'erhovering Spoiler wore, the while,
An angel's features-a deliverer's smile!

5. A blesséd task! and worthy one

Who, turning from the world, as thou,
Before life's pathway had begun

To leave its spring-time flower and sun,
Had sealed her early vow;

Giving to God her beauty and her youth,
Her pure affections and her guileless truth.

6. Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here
Could be for thee a meet reward;

Thine is a treasure far more dear-
Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear
Of living mortal heard,—

The joys prepared-the promised bliss above-
The holy presence of Eternal Love!

7. Sleep on in peace. The earth has not
A nobler name than thine shall be.

The deeds by martial manhood wrought,
The lofty energies of thought,

The fire of poesy

These have but frail and fading honors;-thine Shall Time unto Eternity consign.

8. Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down,
And human pride and grandeur fall,-
The herald's line of long renown-

The mitre and the kingly crown

Perishing glories all!

The pure devotion of thy generous heart
Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part.

WHITTIER.

51. AMERICAN HISTORY.

HE study of the history of most other nations fills the

THE

mind with sentiments not unlike those which the American traveller feels on entering the venerable and lofty cathedral of some proud old city of Europe. Its solemn grandeur, its vastness, its obscurity, strike awe to the heart. From the richly-painted windows, filled with sacred emblems and strange antique forms, a dim religious light falls around. A thousand recollections of romance, poetry, and legendary story come thronging in upon him. He is surrounded by the tombs of the mighty dead, rich with the labors of ancient art, and emblazoned with the pomp of heraldry.

2. What names does he read upon them? Those of princes and nobles, who are now remembered only for their vices; and of sovereigns at whose death no tears were shed, and whose memories lived not an hour in the affection of their people. There, too, he sees other names, long familiar to him for their guilty or ambitious fame. There rest the blood-stained soldier of fortune, the orator who was ever the ready apologist of tyranny-great scholars, who were the pensioned flatterers of power, and poets who profaned the high gift of genius tc pamper the vices of a corrupted court.

3. Our history, on the contrary, like that poetical temple of fame, reared by the imagination of Chaucer. and decorated by the taste of Pope, is almost exclusively dedicated to the memory of the truly great. Or, rather, li. the Pantheon of

Rome, it stands in calm and severe beauty amid the ruins of ancient magnificence and "the toys of modern state." Within, no idle ornament encumbers its simplicity. The pure light of heaven enters from above, and sheds an equal and serene radiance around.

4. As the eye wanders about its extent, it beholds the unadorned monuments of brave and good men who have bled or toiled for their country; or it rests on votive tablets inscribed with the names of the best benefactors of mankind.

"Patriots are here, in Freedom's battle slain;

Priests whose long lives were closed without a stain;
Bards worthy him who breathed the poet's mind;
Founders of arts that dignify mankind;

And lovers of our race, whose labors gave

Their names a memory that defies the grave."

5. We have been repeatedly told, and sometimes, too, in a tone of affected impartiality, that the highest praise which can fairly be given to the American mind is that of possessing an enlightened selfishness; that, if the philosophy and talents of this country, with all their effects, were forever swept into oblivion, the loss would be felt only by ourselves; and that if to the accuracy of this general charge the labors of Franklin present an illustrious, it is still but a solitary exception.

6. If Europe has hitherto been wilfully blind to the value of our example, and the exploits of our sagacity, courage, invention, and freedom, the blame must rest with her, and not with America. Is it nothing for the universal good of mankind to have carried into successful operation a system of self-government, uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion, and eqality of rights, with national power and dignity, such as had before existed only in the Utopian dreams of philosophers? Is it nothing, in moral science, to have anticipated, in sober reality, numerous plans of reform in civil and criminal jurisprudence, which are, but now, received as plausible theories by the politicians and economists of Europe?

7. Is it nothing to have been able to call forth on every emergency, either in war or in peace, a body of talents always equal to the difficulty? Is it nothing to have, in less than a half-century, exceedingly improved the sciences of political economy, of law, and of medicine, with all their auxiliary branches; to have enriched human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of useful facts and observations, and to have augmented the power and the comforts of civilized man, by miracles of mechanical invention? Is it nothing to have given the world examples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of public virtue; of learning, eloquence, and valor, never exerted save for some praiseworthy end?

8. LAND OF LIBERTY! thy children have no cause to blush for thee. What though the arts have reared few monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's footstep is found in the paths of our forests, or along the banks of our rivers; yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes, and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become one vast temple and hallowed asylum, sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the persecuted of every sect, and the wretched of all nations.

9. LAND OF REFUGE! LAND OF BENEDICTIONS! Those prayers still arise, and they still are heard: May peace be within thy walls, and plenteousness within thy palaces! May there be no decay, nor leading into captivity, and no complaining in thy streets! May truth flourish out of the earth, and righteousness look down from heaven!

GULIAN C. VERPLANCK

52. SOGGARTH AROON.

[These lines, full of deep tenderness, graphically and touchingly depict the reverential and affectionate feeling that, through all trials and long generations, has existed in the heart of the Irish peasant for his Soggarth Aroon-priest dear.]