Wha Aberty in the ancient world, by destroying herself. Sword, in modern times, annihilated the Republics of Italy, the atic towns, and the primitive independence of Ireland, Wa. Scotland? What but the Sword partitioned Poland, assassinat、 rising liberty of Spain, banished the Huguenots from France, made Cromwell the master, not the servant, of the People? And what but the Sword of Republican France destroyed the Independence of half of Europe, deluged the continent with tears, devoured its millions upon millions, and closed the long catalogue of guilt, by founding and defending to the last the most powerful, selfish, and insatiable of military despotisms? The Sword, indeed, delivered Greece from the Persian invaders, expelled the Tarquins from Rome, emancipated Switzerland and Holland, restored the Bruce to his Throne, and brought Charles to the scaffold. And the Sword redeemed the pledge of the Congress of '76, when they plighted to each other "their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor." And yet, what would the redemption of that pledge have availed towards the establishment of our present Government, if the spirit of American institutions had not been both the birthright and the birth-blessing of the Colonies? The Indians, the French, the Spaniards, and even England herself, warred in vain against a People, born and bred in the household, at the domestic altar, of Liberty herself. They had never been slaves, for they were born free. The Sword was a herald to proclaim their freedom, but it neither created nor preserved it. A century and a half had already beheld them free in infancy, free in youth, free in early manhood. Theirs was already the spirit of American institutions; the spirit of Christian freedom, of a temperate, regulated freedom, of a rational civil obedience. For such a People, the Sword, the law of violence, did and could do nothing, but sever the bonds which bound her colonial wards to their unnatural guardian. They redeemed their pledge, Sword in hand; but the Sword left them as it found them, unchanged in character, freemen in thought and in deed, instinct with the immortal spirit of American institutions! 70. ABOU BEN ADHEM.-Leigh Hunt ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, The names of those who love the Lord!" Nay, not so," "And is mine one?" asked Abou. •f It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest⚫ 71 POLONIUS TO LAERTES. William Shakspeare. Born, 1564; died, 1616. My blessing with you! And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy: And they in France, of the best rank and station, 72 WHERE IS HE?-Henry Neele. Born, 1798; died. 1823. 'AND where is he?" Not by the side No, no! the radiance is not dim, Are dear to life and nature still And seem to whisper, Where is he? His was the pomp, the crowded hall Desire could frame; but where are they? and where is he? The church-yard bears an added stone; And Death displays his banner there! 73. GROWTH OF INTERNATIONAL SYMPATHIES.— President Wayland. In many respects, the Nations of Christendom collectively are becoming somewhat analogous to our own Federal Republic. Antiquated distinctions are breaking away, and local animosities are subsiding. The common people of different countries are knowing each other better, esteeming each other more, and attaching themselves to each other by various manifestations of reciprocal good will. It is true, every nation has still its separate boundaries and its individual interests; but the freedom of commercial intercourse is allowing those interests to adjust themselves to each other, and thus rendering the causes of collision of vastly less frequent occurrence. Local questions are becoming of less, and general questions of greater importance. Thanks be to God, men have at last begun to understand the rights and feel for the wrongs of each other! Mountains interposed do not so much make enemies of nations. Let the trumpet of alarm be sounded, and its notes are now heard by every nation, whether of Europe or America. Let a voice borne on the feeblest breeze tell that the rights of man are in danger, and it floats over valley and mountain, across continent and ocean, until it has vibrated on the ear of the remotest dweller in Christendom. Let the arm of Oppression oe raised to crush the feeblest nation on earth, and there will be heard everywhere, if not the shout of defiance, at least the deep-toned mur mur of implacable displeasure. It is the cry of aggrieved, insulted, much-abused man. It is human nature waking in her might from the slumber of ages, shaking herself from the dust of antiquated institutions, girding herself for the combat, and going forth conquering and to conquer; and woe unto the man, woe unto the dynasty, woe unto the party, and woe unto the policy, on whom shall fall the scathe of her blighting indignation! 74 THE WORTH OF FAME. —Joanna Baillie. Born, 1765; died, 1850. O! who shall lightly say that Fame Is nothing but an empty name, The young from slothful couch will start, O! who shall lightly say that Fame O! who shall lightly say that Fame To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye A twinkling speck, but fixed and bright, For is there one who, musing o'er the grave No, saith the generous heart, and proudly swells, 66 Though his cered corse lies here, with God his spirit dwells." 75. THE PURSUIT OF FRIVOLOUS PLEASURES.-Young O, THE dark days of vanity! while here And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns. And time possest both pain us, what can please? TIME USED! The man who consecrates his hourt At once he draws the sting of life and death; And robes, and notions, framed in foreign looms, every bauble drivelled o'er by sense For rattles and conceits of every cast, For change of follies and relays of joy, To drag your patient through the tedious length 76. FORGIVE. - Bishop Heber. Born, 1783; died, 1826. O GOD! my sins are manifold; against my life they cry, My foemen, Lord, are fierce and fell; they spurn me in their pride |