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713. INDUSTRY AND ELOQUENCE. In the

1714. THE FREEMAX. ancient republics of Greece and Rome, ora. He is the freeman, whom the truth makes free, tory—was a necessary branch of a finished And all are slaves, besides. There's not a chain, education. A much smaller proportion of That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, the citizens were educated, than among us; Can wind around him, but he casts it off, but of thesea much larger number became orators. No man—could hope for distinction, With as much ease, as Samson, his green withes. or influence, and yet slight this art. The He looks abroad into the varied field commanders of their armies were orators, of nature, and, though poor, perhaps, compared as well as soldiers, and ruled—as well by | With those, whose mansions glitter in his sight, their rhetorical, as by their military skill. Calls the delightful scenery all his own. There was no trusting with themas with us, to a natural facility, or the acquisition of His—are the mountains, and the valleys his, an accidental fluency-by actual practice.

And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy, But they served an apprenticeship to the With a propriety, that none can feel, art. They passed through a regular course But who, with filial confidence inspired, of instruction in schools. They submitted to can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, long, and laborious discipline. They ex- And smiling say—“My Father made them all!" ercised themselves frequently, both before equals, and in the presence of teachers, who are they not his, by a peculiar right, criticised, reproved, rebuked, excited emula- And, by an emphasis of interest, his, tion, and left nothing undone, which art, and Whose eye--they fill with tears of holy joy, perseverance could accomplish. The great- Whose heart, with praise, and whose exalted mind, est orators of antiquity, so far from being with worthy thoughts—of that unwearied love, favored by natural tendencies, except indeed, That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world, in their high intellectual endowments, had to struggle against natural obstacles; and, in- So clothed in beauty-for rebellious man? stead of growing up, spontaneously, to their Yes: ye may fill your garners-ye that reap unrivalled eminence, they forced themselves The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good, forward by the most discouraging, artificial In senseless riot; but ye will not find, process. Demosthenes—combatted an impediment

In feast, or in the chase, in song or dance, in speech, an ungainliness of gesture, which a liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd at first-drove him from the forum in dis- of usurpation, and 10 no man's wrong, grace. Cicero-failed, at first, through weak- Appropriates nature, as his Father's work, ness of lungs, and an excessive vehemence of And has a richer use of yours than you. manner, which wearied the hearers, and defeated his own purpose. These defects were

He is, indeed, a freeman. Free, by birth, conquered by study, and discipline. He ex. Of no mean city; plann'd, or ere the hills iled himself from home; and during his ab- Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea, sence, in various lands, passed not a day with all his roaring multitude of waves. without a rhetorical exercise, seeking the His freedom-is the same in every state; masters who were most severe in criticism, And no condition of this changeful life, as the surest means of leading him to the per- So manifold in cares, whose every day fection, at which he aimed.

Such, too, was the education of their other Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : great men. They were all, according to their For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, ability and station, orators; orators, not by Nor penury, can cripple or confine. nature or accident, but by education, formed No nook so narrow, but he spreads them there, in a strict process of rhetorical training; ad. With ease, and is at large. The oppressor holds mired and followed -even while Demosthenes and Cicero were living, and unknown

His body bound; but knows not what a range now, only because it is not possible that any, His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; but the first, should survive the ordeal of ages. And that, to bind him, is a vain attempt,

The inference-to be drawn from these ob- Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. servations is, that if so many of those, who

TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. received an accomplished education, became To-day man's dress' in gold and silver bright, accomplished orators, because, to become so was one purpose of their study; then, it is in Wrapt in a shroud before to-morrow-night: the power of a much larger proportion among To-day he 's feeding on delicious food, lis, to form themselves into creditable and ac To-morrow dead, unable to do good! curate speakers. The inference should not be To-day he 's nice, and scorns to feed on crumbs, denied, until proved false by experiment. To-morrow he's himself a dish for worms;

Let this art be made an object of attention, To-day he is honor'd, and in vast esteem, and young men train themselves to it, faith- To-morrow not a beggar values him; fully, and long; and if any of competent talents and tolerable science be found, at last, To-day his house, tho' large, he thinks but small, incapable of expressing themselves in con- To-morrow no command, no house at all; tinued, and connected discourse, so as to an- To-day has forty servants at his gate, swer the ends of public speaking, then, and To-morrow scorn'd, not one of them will wait! not till then, let it be said, that a peculiar To-day perfum'd, as sweet as any rose, talent, or natural aptitude—is requisite, the To-morrow stinks in everybody's nose; want of which must render effort vain; then, and not till then, let us acquiesce in To-day he's grand, majestic, all delight, this indolent, and timorous notion, which Ghastful and pale before to-morrow night; contradicts the whole testimony of antiquity, True, as the Scripture says,

man's life's a span;* and all the experience of the world.--Wirt. The present moment is the life of man.

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715. CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. dictating peace on a rast to the czar of Russia. Di He is fallen! We may now pause--before that he was still the same military despot!

contemplating defeat--at the gallows of Leipsigsplendid prodigy, which towered amongst us, like

In this wonderful combination, his affectations some ancient ruin, whose frown-terrified the of literature must not be omitted. The jailerglance jis magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy of the press, he affected the patronage of letters; and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptred the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosohermit, wrapı-in the solitude of his own ori phy—the persecutor of authors, and the murderer ginality. A mind, bold, independent, and decis of printers, he yet pretended to the protection of ive-a wiil, despotic !! its dictatesman energy, learning! the assassin of Palm, the silencer of that distanced expedition, and a conscience-plia- De Stael, and the denouncer of Kotzebue, he was ble to every touch of interest, marked the outline the friend of David, the benefactor of De Lille, of this extraordinary character,-the most extra- and sent his academic prize to the philosopher of ordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world, England. Such a inedley of contradictions, and ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life, in

at the same time such an individual consistency, the midsi of a revolution, that quickened every were never united in the same character. A energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, royalist-a republican, and an emperor-a Mo he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, hammedan--a catholic and a patron of the syna. and a scholar by charity: With no friend, but gogue-a subaltern and a sovereign-a traitor his sword, and 110 fortune, but his talents, he and a tyrant-a christian and an infidel-he was, rushed in the list-where rank, and wealth, and through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, imgenius--had arrayed themselves, and competi- patient, inflexible original-the same mysterious, tion-fled from him, as from the glance of desti- incomprehensible seli—the man--without a modny. He knew no motive, but interest—he ac- el, and without a shadow.Phillips. knowledged no criterion, but success--he worshiped no God, but ambition, and, with an eastern

716. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. Pause, devotion, he knelt-at the shrine of his idolatry for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to conSubsidiary to this, there was no creed, that he template the universe, in which you dwell, did not profess, there was no opinion, that he did and the glory of him, who created it. What not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he up- a scene of wonders—is here presented to held the crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he your view! If beheld with a religious eye, bowed before the cross : the orphan of St. Louis, what a temple--for the worship of the Alhe became the adopted child of the republic: and mighty! The earth is spread out before you, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins-both reposing amidst the desolation of winter, or of the throne, and tribune, he reared the throne clad in the verdure of spring—smiling in of his despotism. A professed catholic, he im- the beauty of summer, or loaded with autum prisoned the pope ; a pretended patriot, he impov nal fruit;--opening to an endless variety of erished the country; and in the name of Brutus: beings—the treasures of their Maker’s goodshame, the diadem

of the Cesars! Through this ness, and ministering subsistence, and compantomime of policy, fortune played the clown to

fort to every creature that lives. The heavhis caprices. At his touch, crowns crumbled, beg- ens, also, declare the glory of the Lord. The gars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theo- sun cometh forth from his chambers—to scatries took the color of his whim, and all that was ter the shades of night-inviting you to the venerable, and all that was novel, changed pla- renewal of your labors—adorning the face ces with the rapidity of a drama. Even appa- of nature—and, as he advances to his meri: rent defeat-assumed the appearance of victory-dian brightness, cherishing every herb, and his flight from Egypt confirmed his destiny-ruin every flower, that springeth from the bosom itself--only elevated him to empire. But if his of the earth. Nor, when he retires again fortune was great, his genius was transcendent; from your view, doth he leave the Creator decision-flashed upon his councils; and it was without a witness. the same to decide--and to perform. To inferior

He only hides his own intelleets-his combinations appeared perfectly splendor, for a while, to disclose to you a impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable ; but, more glorious scene—to show you the imin his hands simplicity-marked their develop- mensity of space, filled with worlds unnumment, and success — vindicated their adoption. bered, that your imaginations may wander, His pers01-partook of the character of his mind; without a limit, in the vast creation of God. if the one-never yielded in the cabinet, the oth What a field is here opened, for the exerer-never bent in the field. Nature-had no ob- cise of every pious emotion! and how irrestacle, that he did not surmount, space-no op, sistibly do such contemplations, as these, position, that he did not spurn; and whether amid awaken the sensibility of the soul! Here, is Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he infinite power-to impress you with awe seemed proof against peril, and empowered with here is infinite wisdom-to fill you with ad. ubiquity! The whole continent-trembled—at miration-here is infinite goodness—to call beholding the audacity of his designs, and the forth your gratitude, and love. The corres, to the prodigies of his performance; romance pondence between these great objects, and assumed the air of history; nor was there aught the affections of the human heart, is estabtoo incredible for belief, or too fanciful--for ex- lished by nature itself; and they need only to pectation, when the world-saw a subaltern of be placed before us, that every religious feelCorsica-waving his imperial flag-over her most ing may be excited.—Moodie ancient capitals. All the visions of antiquitybecame commonplaces in his contemplation; the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is

There is so great a fever in goodness, that kings were his people-nations were his outposts only in request; and it is as dangerous to be and he disposed of courts, and crowns and aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they to be constant in any undertaking. There Amid all these changes, he stood—iummutable is scarce truth enough alive to make socias adamant.

eties secure; but security enough to make It mattered little, whether in the field, or in the fellowships accursed; much upon this riddrawing-room-with the mob, or the levee - dle runs the wisdom of the world. This wearing the jacobin bonnet, or the iron crown- news is old enough, yet it is every day's banishing a Braganza, or espousing a Hapsburg-news.--Shakspeare.

718. THUNDER STORM ON THE ALPS.

719. MATERNAL AFFECTION. Woman's It is the hush of night; and all between [clear, charms are certainly many and powerful. Thy margin, and the mountains, dusk, yetty, has an irresistible bewitchingness; the

The expanding rose, just bursting into beauMellow'd, and mingling, yet distinctly seen,

blooming bride, led triumphantly to the hySave darkened Jura, whose capped heights ap- meneal altar, awakens admiration and interPrecipitously steep; and drawing near, [pear est, and the blush of her cheek fills with deThere breathesma living fragrance from the light ;--but the charm of maternity, is more. shore,

[ear, sublime than all these. Of flowers--yet fresh with childhood; on the

Heaven has imprinted, in the mother's face, Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, (more. which clains kindred with the skies,--the

something beyond this world, something Ur whirps the grasshopper-one good-mght carol angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, He is an evening reveller, who makes

watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over His life---an infancy, and sings his fill!

her slumbering babe. At intervals, some bird-from out the brakes

These are objects, which neither the pencil

nor the chisel, can touch, which poetry fails Starts into voice, a moment, then, is still. to exalt, which the most eloquent tongue, in There seems a floating whisper, on the hill, vain, would eulogize, and on which all 'deBut that is fancy, for the starlight dews scription becomes ineffective. In the heart of All silently, their tears of love instill,

man lies this lovely picture; it lives in his Weeping themselves away, till they infuse,

sympathies; it reigns in his affections; his eye Deep into Nature's breast, the spirit of her hues.

looks around in vain for such another object

on earth. The sky is changed ! and such a change! 0 Maternity, extatic sound! so twined round night,

(strong! our hearts, that they must cease to throb, ere And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous we forget it ! 'tis our first love ; 'tis part of Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light

our religion. Nature has set the mother up

on such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes, and of a dark eye in woman! Far along,

arms, are first uplifted to it; we cling to it From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, in manhood; we almost worship it in old age. Leaps the live thunder! not from one lone cloud: He, who can enter an apartment, and behold But every mountain-now hath found a longue, the tender babe, feeding on its mother's beau

And Jura answers through her misty shroud, ty--nourished by the tide of life, which flows Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!

through the generous veins, without a pant

ing bosom and a grateful eye, is no man, but And this is in the night : Most glorious night!

a monster. Thou wert not sent for slumber! Let me be

720. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. A sharer in thy fierce, and far delight,

Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray, A portion of the tempest, and of thee !

That lov'st to greet the early morn, How the lit lake shines! a phosphoric sea !

Again, thou usher'st in the day, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!

My Mary, from my soul was torn. And now again—'tis black, and now, the glee

0, Mary! dear departed shade! of the loud hills-shakes with its mountain

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? mirth,

[birth. Seest thou thy lover, lowly laid ? As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's

Hear'st thou the groans, that rend his breast ? Now, where the swift Rhone-cleaves his way That sacred hour-can I forget, between

[parted Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Heights, which appear as lovers, who have Where, by the winding Ayr we met, In bate, whose mining depths—so intervene,

To live one day of parting love ! That they can meet no more, though broken- Eternity–will not efface hearted!

[thwarted, Those records dear, of transports past ; Though in their souls, which thus each other Thy image, at our last embrace ! Love was the very root-of the fond rage,

Ah! little thought we, 'twas our last ! Which blighted their life's bloom, and then, Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, departed!

O’erhung with wild woods' thick’ning green ; Itself expired, but leaving them an age [wage! The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Of years, all winters! war-within themselves to

Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft the flowers sprang-wanton to be prest, his way,

[stand : The birds sang love-on every spray, The mightiest of the storms hath taken his Till too, too soon, the glowing west For here, not onė, but many, make their play,

Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. And Aling their thunderbolts from hand to hand, still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, Flashing and cast around! of all the band,

And fondly broods, with miser care ! The brightest through these parted hills hath Time, but the impression deeper makes, His lightnings, as if he did understand, [forked

As streams--their channels deeper wear. That in such gaps as desolation worked,

My Mary! dear departed shade! There the hot shaft should blast whatever there

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? in lurked.-Byron.

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? And Heaven-beholds its image-in his breast.

Ill-doers-are ill-thinkers.

721. RICHARD.

Remember you've worn them; and just can it be Now-is the winter--of our discontent

To take all my trinkets, and not to take me ? Made glorious summer-by this sun of York; Nay, don't throw them at me!-You'll break And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house, do not start

(heart! In the deep bosom-of the ocean-buried : I don't mean my gifts—but you will break my Now, are our brows -- bound with victorious Not have me! Not love me! Not go to the church! wreaths ;

Sure, never was lover so left in the lurch! Our bruised arms-hung up for monuments : My brain is distracted, my feelings are hurt; Our stern alarums-chang'd to merry meetings, Oh, madam, don't tempt me to call you-a flirt. Our dreadful marches-to delightful measures :

Remember my letters; my passion they told ; Grim-visag'd war-hath smooth'd his wrinkled Yes, all sorts of letters, save letters of gold; front;

The amount of my notes, too--the notes that I And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds,

penned, To fright the souls-of fearful adversaries,

Not bank notes-no, truly, I had none to send ! He capers nimbly-in a lady's chamber,

Not have me! Not love me! And is it, then To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

That opulent Age is the lover for you ? [true But I--that am not shap'd--for sportive tricks,

'Gainst rivalry's bloom I would strive--'tis too Nor made, to court an amorous looking-glass ;

To yield to the terrors of rivalry's crutch. [much I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's maTo strut before a wanton, ambling

nymph ;[jesty, But, madam, you are not worth fighting about ;

Remember-remember I might call him out ; 1, that am curtail'd--of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature—by dissembling nature,

My sword shall be stainless, in blade, and in hilt;

I thought you a jewel-I find you--a jilt. Deform’d, unfinish'd, sent, before my time,

723. DESERTED WIFE. Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, He comes not-I have watched the moon go down, And that-so lamely, and unfashionably,

But yet, he comes not.-Once, it was not so. That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;

He thinks not, how these bitter tears do flow, Why I, in this weak-piping time of peace, The while he holds his riot in that town. Have no delight to pass away the time;

Yet he will come, and chide, and I shall weep; Unless to spy iny shadow--in the sun,

And he will wake my infant from its sleep, And descant-on mine own deformity;

To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, 0! how I love a mother's watch to keep, [cheers To entertain these fair-well spoken days, Over those sleeping eyes, that smile, which I am determined to prove--a villain,

My heart, though sunk in sorrow, fix'd, and deep. And hate the idle pleasures of these days. I had a husband once, who loved me ;-now, Plots have I Jaid, inductions dangerous,

He ever wears a frown upon his brow, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, And feeds his passion-on a wanton's lip, To set my brother Clarence, and the king, As bees, from laurel flowers, a poison sip; In deadly hate--the one, against the other : But yet, I cannot hate-0! there were hours, And if king Edward-be as true and just, When I could hang, forever, on his eye, As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,

And time, who stole, with silent swiftness by, This day--should Clarence closely be mew'd up; Strew'd, as he hurried on, his path with flowers. About a prophecy, which says that G (George] I loved him then-he loved me too. My heart or Edward's heir-the murderer shall be.[comes. Still finds its fondness kindle, if he smile; Dive, thoughts, down to my soul; here Clarence The memory of our loves-will ne'er depart; 722. THE REJECTED.

And though he often sting me with a dart, Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I Venom'd, and barb’d, and waste upon the vile

Caresses, which his babe and mine should share; Sure, never was lover so strangely misled. (said ? Rejected! and just when I hoped to be blessed: Though he should spurn me, I will calmly bear

His madness,-and should sickness come, and You can't be in earnest! It must be a jest.

Its paralyzing hand upon him., then, [lay Remember---remember how often I've knelt,

I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, Explicitly telling you all that I felt,

Until the penitent should weep, and say, And talked about poison, in accents so wild,

How injured, and how faithful I had been ! So very like torture, you started—and smiled.

DISCOVERIES. From time to time, a Not have me! Not love me ! Oh, what have I chosen hand, sometimes directed by chance, All natural nourishment did I not shun?[ done? but more commonly guided by reflection, exMy figure is wasted; my spirits are lost; [ghost. periment and research, touches a spring, till And my eyes are deep sunk, like the eyes of a

then un perceived; and through what seemed

a blank and impenetrable wall,--the barrier Remember, remember--ay, madam, you must-- to all further progress--a door is thrown I once was exceedingly stout, and robust ; open into some before unexplored hall in the I rode by your palfrey, I came at your call,

sacred temple of truth. The multitude rushAnd nightly, went with you, to banquet and ball.

es in, and wonders that the portals could

have remained concealed so long. When a Not have me! Not love me! Rejected! Refused! brilliant discovery or invention is proclaimed, Sure, never was lover so strangely ill-used! men are astonished to think how long they Consider my presents--I don't mean to boast had lived on its confines, without penetrating But, madam, consider the money they cost !

its nature.

722. No EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR. But to act, that each to-morrow The education, moral, and intellectual, of Find us farther-than to-day. every individual, must be, chiefly, his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were

Art is long, and time is fleeting, right-Quisque suæ fortunæ faber-both in

And our hearts, though stout and brave, morals, and intellect, we give their final shape

Still, like muffled drums, are beating to our own characters, and thus become, em Funeral marches to the grave. phatically, the architects of our own fortunes.

In the world's broad field of battle, How else could it happen, that young men, In the bivouac of life, who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle! with such different results, and rushing to

Be a hero in the strife! such opposite destinies? Difference of talent Trust not future, howe'er pleasant! will not solve it, because that difference very Let the dead past—bury its dead' often is in favor of the disappointed candidate.

Act!-act in the living present! You shall see, issuing from the walls of the same college-nay, sometimes from the bosom

Heart-within, and God--o'er head. of the same family—two young men, of whom Lives of great men-all remind us the one-shall be admitted to be a genius of We can make our lives sublime, high order, the other, scarcely above the point

And, departing, leave behind us of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius

Footsteps-on the sands of time; sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness: while, on the other hand,

Footsteps, that perhaps another, you shall observe the mediocre, plodding his Sailing o'er life's solemn main, slow, but sure way-up the hill of life, gain A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother, ing steadfast footing at every step, and mount Seeing, shall take heart again. ing, at length, to eminence and distinction,

Let us, then, be up and doing, an ornament to his family, a blessing to his

With a heart for any fate; country. Now, whose work is this?' Manifestly their own. They are the architects of Still achieving, still pursuing, their respective fortunes. The best seminary Learn to labor, and to wait.-Longfellow.. of learning, that can open its portals to you, 724. DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE. In can do no more than to afford you the oppor- forming our notions of human nature, we are tunity of instruction : but it must depend, at very apt to make a comparison betwixt men, last, on yourselves, whether you will be in. and animals, which are the only creatures, structed or not, or to what point you will endowed with thought, that fall under our push your instruction. And of this be as

senses. Certainly, this comparison, is very sured—I speak, from observation, a certain favorable to mankind! On the one hand, we truth: there is no excellence without great see a creature, whose thoughts--are not limlabor. It is the fiat of fate, from which no ited, by the narrow bounds, either of place, power of genius can absolve you. Genius, or time, who carries his researches-into the unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters most distant regions of this globe, and beyond around a candle, till it scorches itself to death. this globe, to the planets, and heavenly boIf genius be desirable at all, it is only of that dies; looks backward—to consider the first great and magnanimous kind, which, like the origin of the human race; casts his eyes forcondor of South America, pitches from the ward-to see the influence of his actions up summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, on posterity, and the judgments which will and sustains itself, at pleasure, in that em- be formed of his character-a thousand years pyreal region, with an energy-rather invig- hence: a creature, who traces causes and eforated, than weakened, by the effort. . It is fects—to great lengths and intricacy; extracts this capacity for high and long-continued general principles from particular appearexertion—this vigorous power of profound ances; improves upon his discoveries, corand searching investigation—this careering rects his mistakes, and makes his very errors and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, profitable. On the other hand, we are preand those long reaches of thought, that sented with a creature--the very reverse cf “-Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon, ings—to a few sensible objects which sur

limited in its observations and reason Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom line could never touch the ground, round it; without curiosity, without foresight, And drag up drowned honor by the locks blindly conducted by instinct, and arriving, This is the prowess, and these the hardy beyond which—it is never able to advance a

in a very short time, at its utmost perfection, achievements, which are to enroll your names single step. What a difference is there beamong the great men of the earth.-Wirt.

twixt these creatures! and how exalted a 723. LIFE IS REAL.

notion must we entertain of the former in. Tell me not-in mournful numbers,

comparison of the latter.—Hume..
Life-is but an empty dream!

SURE REWARDS FOR VIRTUE.
For the soul is dead—that slumbers,

There is a morning to the tomb's long night,
And things are not-what they seem.

A dawn of glory, a reward in heaven,

He shall not gain, who never merited.
Life is real! Life is earnest!

If thou didst know the worth of one good deed
And the grave-is not its goal;

In life's last hour, thou wouldst not bid me lose
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

The power to benefit. If I but save
Was not written-of the soul.

A drowning Ay, I shall not live in vain.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

I had rather see some women praised extraordi-
Is our destined end, and way,

narily, than to see any of them suffer by detraction. 39

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this;

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