HAIL! TO THE VETERANS.-By N. K. Richardson. 'Written on the reception of General Meade and his brave soldiers of Lae Army of the Potomac, in Philadelphia, June, 1865. WELCOME them, cheer them, crown them with flowers! Maidens throw smiles to them, skies look bright, Trumpets of brass with a constant bray, As they peal and roar,-welcome home from the fray! Fragrant breath of the leafy June, At the homeward march of the hosts of the Lord! And ringing bells, shall be merry to-day, As they peal and roar,-welcome home from the fray 1 Thundering cannon with heated throats, Shall greet their companions in swelling notes! Belching and booming o'er land and sea, Proclaiming to Tyrants the home of the Free! They should come, until slavery writhed in hell! And ringing bells, shall be merry to-day, As they peal and roar,—welcome home from the fray Beautiful children, your dimpled hands, Must throw kisses to those at whose commands Your country, cemented in blood, shall be The temple of ALL who delight to be free! Spring arches triumphal o'er every street; Place the rose-leaf and laurel 'neath weary feet! Oh be kind to them, cherish them, nurse them with care, 1 That souls ripe for heaven in glad review, Trumpets of brass with a constant bray, As they peal and roar,-welcome home from the fray! HAMLET'S INSTRUCTION TO THE PLAYERS. Shakspeare. SPEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you,trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spake my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. Oh! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags,-to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb show and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant: it out-herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word; the word to the action; with this special observance-that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing; whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature;--to show virtue her own feature; scorn her own image; and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, can not but make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theater of others. Oh! there be players, that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men. and not made them well,-they imitated humanity so aboui nably! HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY.-Shakspeare. To be or not to be-that is the question! And, by opposing, end them. To die-to sleep ;- The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks To sleep! perchance to dream! Ay; there's the rub; Must give us pause! There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Who would fardels bear, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; "ALL WE ASK IS TO BE LET ALONE."-By II. H. Brownell As vonce I valked by a dismal swamp, "Let me alone, for I loves to shy Just then came along, on the self-same vay, Put down that stick! (You may well look skeered.) ary kite." "You must have a lesson to stop your tricks, The old cove stopped, and the other old cove, And he grumbled on, in an injured tone, "All that I axed vos, Let me alone." CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.—By Myra Townsend. WHAT! Would ye swing your brother's form High up in Heaven's free air, And place the image of your God A dangling victim there? Who gave you pow'r to read his heart, Or know how deep his guilt, Or judge what provocation came Ere blood by him was spilt? Can ye retrace the length of years Perhaps, from life's first early dawn His teachings may have been in wrong, No father at the mercy seat No sister twined around his heart Which made an atmosphere of love And truth, and justice, but the guise Have spread their influence divine, To purify the whole Then, would ye swing your Brother's form High up in Heaven's free air, And place the image of your God A dying victim there? With all his sins upon his head Is your's the fiat of his days, Your's the avenging pow'r? Did not THAT EYE that saw his deed And read the thought that caused the act And could He not with vengeance swift, If, in His wisdom, he had seen It meet to deal the blow? Think you His hand less strong than youre? Are you more just, more wise, That ye with daring hands unrobe The soul that never dies? He whom your God in mercy spared And yet we pray-"Forgive us, Lord F |