immortal words of him whose name his vessel bore-"Don't give up the ship." And at the sight of it, the loud huzzas of the mariners resounded over the lake, from deck to deck, along the whole American line; and awakened the echoes which had been sleeping on those waters and shores, ever since the morning stars sang together.

The breeze being light, the American fleet was two hours in bearing down under all sail over this smooth surface of nine miles. The wind, though light, was steady; and not a new movement was made in steerage, running geer, or sail. All were silent. It was, in both fleets, the stillness of the elements, before the storm of the hurricane. I will not believe one bosom palpitated with fear; but many a one beat with an aspiration, and a hope for victory. In that awful pause, when at times, every eye glanced on every other eye, and all were mingling souls in a sympathy of courage and daring among their comrades and commanders, how many young hearts, for the last time, breathed a sigh and prayed a prayer, for home, parents, brothers, sisters, and for the bosom friend dearer than all ?" Many a bright and moist eye looked, for the last time, on the green shores and sunny hills of their country. Rashness, without courage, may rush thoughtlessly

into the battle; but nothing but valor of soul can stand unmoved, and wait for the coming conflict of life or death, victory or defeat.

They stood every man silent at his post; while the breath of heaven, born to fill the sails of commerce, and which never had before, seemed reluctant now, on those quiet waters, to aid men in mutual destruction.

*

*

*

*

*

At the close of the battle, Perry set up no exclusive claims to the glory of the victory. He submitted all, with unexampled modesty, to the award of his country.

Look at his despatches; does he tell what I have done? To General Harrison-"We have met the enemy, and they are ours." To the Secretary of the Navy-" It has pleased the Almighty to give to the arms of the United States a signal victory over their enemies on this lake. The British squadron consisting of two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop, have this moment surrendered to the force under my command, after a sharp conflict."

Nothing can be so conspicuous as the modesty, unless it be the piety, of this most perfect of all naval despatches. How could he say less of himself? The victory had been given by Him who gives all things-had been given, not to him, but to

the American arms. The British squadron had surrendered to the force; what force? He could not avoid saying, to the force under my command. One epithet only, tells the nature of the battle; it was a sharp conflict. He puts under sail none of that squadron of adjectives, after which, a young egotist would have sent his first victory to the Naval Department.

The living can protect their own characters. Those who are dead, and who fell in the national service, have left their fame, perhaps the only inheritance of their children, to the safe keeping of their country; and wo betide a people, when they permit the sanctuary of human glory, frail and perishable as it is, to be profaned and plundered.*

It was sacrilege among the ancients, and deemed abhorrent to gods and men, to destroy, or remove a stick or a stone, from a trophy erected, by a conqueror, on a battle field, or by the shore where a naval victory had been achieved.

Let the people of Rhode-Island protect with a pious diligence, the tombs and the glory of their buried patriots and heroes; and alike abhor those who would tarnish the one, or demolish the other.

*Note 5.-See Appendix.

THE DWARF'S STORY.

BY FRANCES H. WHIPPLE.

- NAY, listen to me, Lilian! I'm not mad.
Linger and listen. I would tell a tale-

Oh, God! sustain me !--but 't will wring thy heart,
I would not grieve thee-thee, my only friend!
But yet I cannot—how can I forego

Thy precious sympathy? Give here thy hand;
I'll hold it thus in mine. There, turn away,

And look not on me; for I cannot bear

That thou should'st feel disgust-that thou should'st loathe,
Though the sharp hiss of universal scorn

Has been my only greeting from the world.
Lilian, thou hast dear woman's gentleness,
Without her vanity. O, thou might'st lead
The noble and the great in pleasant thrall,
Casting such chains as men delight to wear ;
Yet, dearest, thou art mine-the friend of him
Who has no other. Yes, I owe thee much."

“Thou ow'st me nothing.

Mine--all mine the debt ?

Do I not owe thee all I value most—

Treasures of intellect, the wealth of mind ?—
What had I been this moment, but for thee?
O, cold will be this heart ere I forget

My endless debt of gratitude and love!”

She turned her blue eyes on him, with the tears Softening their lustre, like the pearly gems

Of dew in violets. The little hand

Trembled within its confines. One low sigh
Escaped his quivering lips.

"Dear girl, beware.

Reprove, condemn, or scorn me; but do not,
For my sake and thy own, O do not be
Thus kind, thus gentle, or I shall forget

My vow of fealty.

And fear me not.

Yet leave me not;

Within this shapeless clod

A spirit dwelleth, fervid, pure, and high,

As thy own spotless one. It loveth thee
And cannot do thee wrong-would not for worlds.

"Be calm and hear me dearest Lilian.
A living curse I came into the world;
And when I was an infant-ay, a babe,
My little, hideous, melancholy face
Drew nought but hatred on me.

Then I learned,

Ere I could syllable the simplest word,
The worth of beauty; for I saw it give
All that a child desireth unto him,

My bright eyed brother. He was beautiful.
My mother loved him ;-but she hated me!
I've seen his dimpling arms around her neck;
And, looking on him, her expressive eye

Was one rich gush of love! Then how I longed