and breaking up old landmarks; and this moral process is working under Neapolitan dungeons and Austrian Thrones; and, Sir, it wil tumble over your Metternichs and Nicholases, and convert your Josephs into fossils. I repeat it, Sir, not only are all the moral principles of the age, but all the physical principles of nature, as developed hy man, at work in behalf of freedom.

Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behina

Powers that will work for thee; earth, air, and skies:
There's not a breathing of the common wind,

That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,

And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

81. THE ORDER OF NATURE.-Alexander Pope. Born, 1688; died, 1744
ALL are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul;

That, changed through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the Earth, as in the ethereal frame,
Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the breeze,
flows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;

Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns:
To Him, no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all.

Cease, then, nor ORDER Imperfection name,
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
Submit;-in this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear,-
Safe in the hand of one Disposing Power,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see;
All Discord, Harmony not understood;

All partial Evil, universa Good:

And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear: WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.

$2. FUTURE EMPIRE OF OUR LANGUAGE.-Rev. George W. Bethune

ine products of the whole world are, or may soon be, found within our confederate limits. Already there had been a salutary mixture of blood, but not enough to impair the Anglo Saxon ascendency. The

Nation grew morally strong from its original elements. The great work was delayed only by a just preparation. Now, God is bringing hither the most vigorous scions from all the European stocks, to make of them all one new man; - not the Saxon, not the German, not the Gaul, not the Helvetian, but the American. Here they will unite as one brotherhood, will have one law, will share one interest. Spread over the vast region from the frigid to the torrid, from the Eastern to the Western Ocean, every variety of climate giving them choice of pursuit and modification of temperament, the ballot-box fusing together all rivalries, they shall have one national will. What is wanting in one race will be supplied by the characteristic energies of the others; and what is excessive in either, checked by the counter action of the rest. Nay, though for a time the newly-come may retain their foreign vernacular, our tongue, so rich in ennobling literature, will be the tongue of the Nation, the language of its laws, and the accent of its majesty. Eternal God, who seest the end with the beginning, Thou alone canst tell the ultimate grandeur of this People!

Such, Gentlemen, is the sphere, present and future, in which God calls us to work for Him, for our country, and for mankind. The language in which we utter truth will be spoken on this Continent, a century hence, by thirty times more millions than those dwelling on the island of its origin. The openings for trade on the Pacific coast, and the railroad across the Isthmus, will bring the commerce of the world under the control of our race. The empire of our language will follow that of our commerce; the empire of our institutions, that of our language. The man who writes successfully for America will yet speak for all the world.

33. COMPENSATIONS OF THE IMAGINATION.-Akcnside.

O BLEST of Heaven, whom not the languid songs

Of Luxury, the Siren! not the bribes

Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils

Of pageant Honor, can seduce to leave

Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store
Of Nature fair Imagination culls

To charm the enlivened soul! What though not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the height
Of envied life; though only few possess
Patrician treasures or imperial state;
Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures and an ampler state
Endows at large whatever happy man
Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp,
The rural honors his! Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column, and the arch,
The breathing marbles, and the sculptured gold,

Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim,
His tuneful breast enjoys! For him, the Spring
Distils her dews, and from the silken germ
Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand
Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.
Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings
And still new Beauties meet his lonely walk,
And Loves unfelt attract him Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake
Fresh pleasure, unreproved: nor thence partakes
Fresh pleasure only for the attentive mind,
By this harmonious action on her powers,

Becomes herself harmonious. Thus the men

Whom Nature's works can charm, with God Himself
Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day,
With His conceptions, act upon His plan,
And form to His the relish of their souls.

84. THE GREAT DISTINCTION OF A NATION.-W. E. Channing. B. 1780 ; d. 1842.

THE great distinction of a Nation the only one worth possessing, and which brings after it all other blessings is the prevalence of pure principle among the Citizens. I wish to belong to a State in the character and institutions of which I may find a spring of improvement, which I can speak of with an honest pride; in whose records I may meet great and honored names, and which is fast making the world its debtor by its discoveries of truth, and by an example of virtuous freedom. O, save me from a country which worships wealth, and cares not for true glory; in which intrigue bears rule; in which patriotism borrows its zeal from the prospect of office; in which hungry sycophants throng with supplication all the departments of State; in which public men bear the brand of private vice, and the seat of Government is a noisome sink of private licentiousness and public corruption.

Tell me not of the honor of belonging to a free country. I ask, s our liberty bear generous fruits? Does it exalt us in manly spirit, in public virtue, above countries trodden under foot by Despotism? Tell me not of the extent of our country. I care not how large it is, if it multiply degenerate men. Speak not of our pros perity. Better be one of a poor People, plain in manners, reverencing God, and respecting themselves. than belong to a rich country, which knows no higher good than riches. Earnestly do I desire for this country, that, instead of copying Europe with an undiscerning

ervility, it may have a character of its own, corresponding to the freedom and equality of our institutions. One Europe is enough. One Paris is enough. How much to be desired is it, that, separated, as we are, from the Eastern continent, by an ocean, we should be still more widely separated by simplicity of manners, by domestic purity, by inward piety, by reverence for human nature, by moral indeperd. ence, by withstanding the subjection to fashion, and that debilitating sensuality, which characterize the most civilized portions of the Old World! Of this country, I may say, with peculiar emphasis, that its happiness is bound up in its virtue!

35. WHAT MAKES A HERO?—Henry Taylor.
WHAT makes a hero? - not success, not fame,
Inebriate merchants, and the loud acclaim

Of glutted Avarice, -caps tossed up in air,
Or pen of journalist with flourish fair;
Bells pealed, stars, ribbons, and a titular name
These, though his rightful tribute, he can spare ;
His rightful tribute, not his end or aim,

Or true reward; for never yet did these
Refresh the soul, or set the heart at ease.
What makes a hero? An heroic mind,
Expressed in action, in endurance proved.
And if there be preeminence of right,
Derived through pain well suffered, to the height
Of rank heroic, 't is to bear unmoved,

Not toil, not risk, not rage of sea or wind,

Not the brute fury of barbarians blind,

But worse ingratitude and poisonous darts,

Launched by the country he had served and loved:
This, with a free, unclouded spirit pure,

This, in the strength of silence to endure,

A dignity to noble deeds imparts,

Beyond the gauds and trappings of renown
This is the hero's complement and crown,

This missed, one struggle had been wanting still,
One glorious triumph of the heroic will,

One self-approval in his heart of hearts.

38. THE LAST HOURS OF SOCRATES.-Original Adaptation. SOCRATES was the reverse of a sceptic. No man ever looked upon life with a more positive and practical eye. No man ever pursued his mark with a clearer perception of the road which he was travelling. No man ever combined, in like manner, the absorbing enthusiasm of a missionary, with the acuteness, the originality, the inventive resources,

and the generalizing comprehension, of a philosopher. And yet this man was condemned to death, condemned by a hostile tribunal of more than five hundred citizens of Athens, drawn at hazard from all classes of society. A majority of six turned the scale, in the most momentous trial that, up to that time, the world had witnessed. And the vague charges on which Socrates was condemned were, that he was a vain babbler, a corrupter of youth, and a setter-forth of stral ge Gods!

It would be tempting to enlarge on the closing scene of his life, -a scene which Plato has invested with such immortal glory; on the affecting farewell to the Judges; on the long thirty days which passed in prison before the execution of the verdict; on his playful equa nimity, amid the uncontrollable emotions of his companions; on the gathering in of that solemn evening, when the fading of the sunset hues on the tops of the Athenian hills was the signal that the last hour was at hand; on the introduction of the fatal hemlock; the immovable countenance of Socrates, the firm hand, and then the burst of frantic lamentation from all his friends, as, with his habitual ease and cheerfulness, he drained the cup to its dregs; then the solemn silence enjoined by himself; the pacing to and fro; the strong religious persuasions attested by his last words; the cold palsy of the poison creeping from the extremities to the heart; the gradual torpor ending in death! But I must forbear.

O for a modern spirit like his! O for one hour of Socrates! O for one hour of that voice whose questioning would make men see what they knew, and what they did not know; what they meant, and what they only thought they meant; what they believed in truth, and what they only believed in name; wherein they agreed, and wherein they differed. That voice is, indeed, silent; but there is a voice in each man's heart and conscience, which, if we will, Socrates has taught us to use rightly. That voice still enjoins us to give to ourselves a reason for the hope that is in us,- both hearing and asking questions. It tells us, that the fancied repose which self-inquiry disturbs is more than compensated by the real repose which it gives; that a wise questioning is the half of knowledge; and that a life without self-examination is no life at all.

37. TO A CHILD.-Yankee.

THINGS of high import sound I in thine ears,

Dear child, though now thou mayst not feel their power;
But hoard them up, and in thy coming years

Forget them not, and when earth's ten posts lower,

A talisman unto thee shall they be,

To give thy weak arm strength—to make thy dim eyes see,

Seek Truth, that pure celestial Truth,

--

whose birth Was in the Heaven of Heavens, clear, sacred, shrined