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BY WALTER SCOTT.
KIL CHURN, (kil kurn'.)
“The earlie's son I will not wed',
I would not wed the earlie's son!”
“Are lightly made', and lightly broke':
May blithely wed the earlie's son.” 3. “The swan',” she said, “the lake's clear breast
May barter for the eagle's nest';
Would never wed the earlie's son'." 4. Still in the water-lily's shade
Her wonted nest the wild swan made';
THE MORAL NATURE CONSTITUTES THE MAN.
BY H. GILES. 1. The moral nature is that which, in the highest sense, con. stitutes the man. Faithful to this', the man is true'; unfaithful to it', he is false'. Now this, I say, belongs not to the class', not to the profession', not to the office', but distinctly to the man! The moral feelings', then, are those in which he is most independent'. These are his without hinderance' or limitation'; they are his absolutely and supremely.
2. The moral feelings need no external instrumentality'; they are complete in themselves'. The command of conscience to the will, and the answer of the will in obedience to it, constitute the perfection and sufficiency of virtue. This nothing can limit or destroy! A right will' is right action'; and, though such a will be the movement of a spirit imprisoned in a body all paralyzed and moveless', it is stronger than the universe!
3. Is not this a grand privilege of man', immortal man', that though he may not be able to stir a finger',—that though a moth may crush him',—that merely by a righteous will he is raised above the stars'; that by it he originates a good in the universe which the universe could not annihilate'; a good which can defy extinction, though all created energies of intelligence or matter were combined against it'? It is not thus with the desires and appetites': they do need an outward instrumentality! Without the outward instrumentality' they become occasions of uneasiness' and pain, and with it in the utmost fulness', they have yet no perfection!
4. But a man whose moral nature is ascendant commands these. He is not the subject', but the superior', of circumstances. He is free'; nay, more, he is a king'; and, though this sovereignty may have been won by many desperate battles, once on the throne, and holding the scepter with a firm grasp, he has a royalty of which neither time nor accident can strip him. Years do not enfeeble', they ennoble' it; they do not dim', they brighten'it; they surround it with the halo of a purer atmosphere, and they draw men to do more affectionate homage to its venerable beauty
5. Mutability comes not near io; there is no power that it has cause to fear; there is no enemy that can prevail against it. It is the only royalty which revolutions cannot overturn. Neither does earthly estate interfere with its dominion or its grandeur. In the dungeon' or on the rack', at the stake' or on the scaffold', it contracts no infamy from its situation; pay, it is the more resplendent in its kingliness. It is not often found in palaces', but, when within them', it is their finest presence. It does not always rule in the breasts of monarchs'; but, when it does', it marks them truly for the Lord's anointed'.
6. It is the real inspiration of a princely nature; and, where it is absent, a star is but a dazzling blotch, and a $cepter but a mischievous or a foolish bauble. It has no sure promise of worldly goods; it is not always attended with outward prosperity; it has not always gay dwellings, and sometimes it has none; it needs no show of outward pomp; it has no regal costume, no royal banquets; it does not, by any virtue of its dignity, wear purple and fine linen, or fare sumptuously every day; but, without whereon to lay its head', it may yet be of that celestial eminence which angels gaze on to admire'; covered with rags and sickness', it may be odious to the sight of mortals', and yet be precious in the sight of Heaven'.
BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
As through an Alpine village pass’d
Flash'd like a falchion from its sheath,
3. In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
4. “Try not the pass'!" the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead;
Beware the awful avalanche!!”
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Lifeless', but beautiful, he lay';
BY W. C. BRYANT.
Communion with her visible forms', she speaks
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight.
Earth', that nourish'd thee', shall claim
The hills', Rock-ribb'd', and ancient as the sun'; the vales', Stretching in pensive quietness between'; The venerable woods'; rivers that move In majesty', and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green'; and, pour'd round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste', Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The colden sun', The planets', all the infinite host heaven', Are shining on the sad abodes of Through the still lapse of ages 1 0 The globe are but a handful, to' B That slumber in its bosom.'
All that tread