LESSON CXIII.

THE TEA PARTY.

The following Satire is by WASHINGTON IRVING. It will be well, if the satire is not lost upon other than tea-parties. Faux pas, pronounced fo-pah.

When the party commences, all starched and all glum,
They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum:
They will tell you of ribbons, of cambric, of lace,
How cheap they were sold—and will tell you the place.
They discourse of their colds, and they hem and they
cough,

And complain of their servants to pass the time off.

But Tea, that enlivener of wit and of soul,
More loquacious by far than the draughts of the bowl
Soon loosens the tongue and enlivens the mind,
And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind.
It brings on the tapis their neighbor's defects

The faults of their friends, or their willful neglects;
Reminds them of many a good natured tale

About those who are stylish, and those who are frail,
Till the sweet-tempered dames are converted by tea,
Into character manglers-Gu-nai-ko-pha-ge'.
In harmless chit-chat an acquaintance they roast,
And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast.
Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake,
Is like sweet meats, delicious, or relished as cake
A bit of broad scandal is like a dry crust,

It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first
With a little affected good nature, and cry
"Nobody regrets the thing deeper than I."

Ah ladies, and was it by Heaven designed That ye should be merciful, loving and kind!

Did it form you like angels, and send you below,
To prophecy peace-to bid charity flow?
And have you thus left your primeval estate,
And wandered so widely-
-SO strangely of late?
Alas! the sad course I too plainly can see,
These evils have all come upon you through Tea.
Cursed weed, that can make your fair spirits resign
The character mild of their mission divine,

That can blot from their bosoms that tenderness true,
Which from female to female forever is due.

Oh how nice is the texture, how fragile the frame
Of that delicate blossom, a female's fair fame !
'Tis the sensitive plant, it recoils from the breath,
And shrinks from the touch as if pregnant with death,
How often, how often has innocence sighed,
Has beauty been reft of its honor, its pride,
Has virtue, though pure as an angel of light,
Been painted as dark as a demon of night;
All offered up victims-an auto de fe,
At the gloomy cabals, the dark orgies of tea!

If I, in the remnant that's left me of life, Am to suffer the torments of slanderous strife, Let me fall, I implore, in the slangwhanger's claw, Where the evil is open, and subject to law; Not nibbled and mumbled, and put to the rack, By the sly undermining of tea-party clack: Condemn me, ye gods, to a newspaper roasting, But spare me! oh spare me, a tea-table toasting!

LESSON CXIV.

THE UNION OF THE STATES.

The following is extracted from Webster's Address at the completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. Among the audience were descendants of Warren, Putnam and Prescott, and a few of the hoary veterans themselves who bore arms at Concord, Lexington and

Bunker Hill. The President of the United States, his Cabinet Officers, the Governor of Massachusetts and several other States, and more than fifty thousand citizens from every part of the Union were assembled at the base of the monument. This extract is part of the oration, of which a previous portion has been given in Lesson 103.

We have assembled to celebrate the accomplishment of this undertaking, and to indulge, afresh, in the recollection of the great event which it is designed to commemorate. Eighteen years, more than half the ordinary duration of a generation of mankind, have elapsed, since the corner stone of this monument was laid. The hopes of its projectors rested on voluntary contributions, private munificence, and the general favor of the public. These hopes have not been disappointed. But time and nature have had their course in diminishing the number of those whom we met here to lay the corner stone on the 17th of June, 1825. La Fayette sleeps in his native land, and most of the revolutionary characters then present have since deceased. Yet a few have outlived the troubles and dangers of the Revolution; they have outlived the evils arising from the want of a united and efficient government; they have outlived the pendency of imminent dangers to the public liberty; they have outlived nearly all their contemporaries; but they have not outlived,—they can not outlive-the affectionate gratitude of their country. Heaven has not allotted to this generation an opportunity of rendering high services, and manifesting strong personal devotion, such as they rendered and manifested, and in such a cause as that which raised the patriotic fires of their youthful breasts, and nerved the strength of their arms. But we may praise what we can not equal, and celebrate actions which we were not born to perform.

Banners and badges, processions and flags, announce to us, that amidst the uncounted multitude who have come up to this duty, are thousands of natives of New England, now residents in other States. Wel

come ye kindred names with kindred blood! From the broad savannas of the South, from the newer regions of the West, from amidst the hundreds of thousands of men of Eastern origin, who cultivate the rich valley of the Genessee, or live along the chain of the Lakes, from the mountains of Pennsylvania, and the thronged cities of the coast, welcome, welcome! Wherever else you may be strangers, here you are all at home. You assemble at this shrine of liberty, near the family altars, at which your earliest devotions were paid to Heaven; near to the temples of worship, first entered by you, and near to the schools and colleges, in which your education was received. You come hither with a glorious ancestry of Liberty. You bring names which are on the rolls of Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill In the seventeen millions of happy people, who form the American community, there is not one who has not an interest in this Monument, as there is not one that has not a deep and abiding interest in that which it commemorates.

Woe betide the man, who brings to this day's worship feelings less than wholly American! Woe betide the man, who can stand here with the fires of local resentments burning, or the purpose of fomenting local jealousies, and the strifes of local interests, festering and rankling in his heart. Union, established in justice, in patriotism, and the most plain and obvious common interest; union, founded on the same love of liberty, cemented by blood shed in the same common cause; union has been the source of all our glory and greatness thus far, and is the ground of all our highest hopes. This column stands on Union. I know not that it might not keep its position, if the American Union, in the mad conflict of human passions, and in the strife of parties and factions, should be broken up and destroyed. I know not that it would totter and fall to the earth, and mingle its fragments with the fragments of Liberty and the Constitution, when State

should be separated from State, and faction and dismemberment obliterate forever all the hopes of the founders of our Republic, and the great inheritance of their children. It might stand. But who, from beneath the weight of mortification and shame that would oppress him, could look up to behold it? Whose eyeballs would not be seared by such a spectacle? For my part, should I live to such a time, I shall avert my eyes from it, forever.

LESSON CXV.

TELL ON THE MOUNTAINS.

The following Monologue, or single speech, was taken from an English compilation, but the author is not known. The second paragraph contains a fine Apostrophe to Liberty; the first has two or three fine Similes, or comparisons.

Once more
I breathe the mountain air; once more
I tread my own free hills! Even as a child
Clings to its mother's breast, so do I turn
To thee, my glorious home. My lofty soul
Throws all its fetters off: in its proud flight
'Tis like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing
Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon
With eye undazzled. O! ye mighty race
That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard
My own proud land; why did ye not hurl down
The thundering avalanche, when at your feet
The base usurper stood? A touch—a breath,
Nay even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought
Destruction on the hunter's head; and yet

The tyrant passed in safety. God of Heaven!
Where slept thy thunder-bolt?

O Liberty!

Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which
Life is as nothing; hast thou then forgot