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THE NATIONAL BANNER.

LL hail to our glorious ensign! courage to the heart, and

trusted! May it ever wave in honor, in unsullied glory, and patriotic hope, on the dome of the capitol, on the country's stronghold, on the entented plain, on the wave-rocked topmast!

Wherever, on the earth's surface, the eye of the American shall behold it, may he have reason to bless it! On whatsoever spot it is planted, there may freedom have a foothold, humanity a brave champion, and religion an altar! Though stained with blood in a righteous cause, may it never, in any cause, be stained with shame!

Alike, when its gorgeous folds shall wanton in lazy holiday triumphs on the summer breeze, and its tattered fragments be dimly seen through the clouds of war, may it be the joy and pride of the American heart! First raised in the cause of right and liberty, in that cause alone may it forever spread out its streaming blazonry to the battle and the storm! Having been borne victoriously across the continent and on every sea, may virtue and freedom and peace forever follow where it leads the way!

H

OUTWARD BOUND!

【URRAH, hurrah, how gayly we ride! How the ship careers! How she leaps! How gracefully she bends! How fair her white wings! How trim her hull! How slim her tall, taper masts! What a beautiful dancing fairy! Up from my narrow shelf in the close cabin, have I crept for the first time since we loosed cable and swung out upon the tide, and every drop of blood in my veins jostles its neighbor drop exultingly; for here is sublimity unrivalled.

The wild, shifting, restless sea, with its playful waves, chasing one another laughingly, ever and anon leaping up, shivering themselves by the force of their own mad impulse, and descending again in a shower of pearls-the soft, azure curvature of the sky, shutting down upon its outer rim, as though we were fairly

caged between blue and blue-and the ship, the gallant ship, ploughing her own path in the midst, bearing human souls upon her tremulous breast, with her white wings high in air, and her feet in the grave.

And then the tumult, the creaking of cordage, the dash of waters, and the howling of winds-"the wind and the sea roaring." I have felt my heart swell and my blood tingle in my veins, when I stood in the silent forests of Alderbrook,* and I have looked up at the solemn old trees in awe, mingled with strange delight; the awe and delight have both deepened at the blaze of the lightning and bellowing of the thunder amid the wild, echoing rocks of Astonroga; and now, in this strange uproar, they come upon my heart, and make it bound like the arrow from the bended bow.

The trees were the temples built by the Almighty for His worship, and there is something awfully beautiful in their shadows; the lightnings "go and say unto Him, here we are!" and "He shut up the sea with doors, and made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness the swaddling-band for it." And here, as I stand poised up by the wild elements, I feel myself near, very near to the only Protector who has a hand to save, and, in the hollow of that all-powerful hand, I rest in perfect security.

God, my God, I go forth at thy bidding, and, in the words of thine own inspired poet, "Thou art my buckler, the horn of my salvation, and my high tower." The sea cannot separate thee from me, the darkness of midnight cannot hide thy face, nor can the raging of the storm drown thy still small voice. My heart leaps joyfully as I trust in thee.

On, brave little wrestler with the elements! On, right gallantly! I love the bounding, the dashing, and the roaring, and my heart shall know no faltering while “ my Father is at the helm." Hurrah! Gallantly ride we in this skeleton ship, while the sunlight glints gayly on white bare mast and slender spar. Gallantly ride we over wave and hollow, over foam and rainbow; now perched upon the white ridge, poising doubtfully, and trembling like a frighted steed; now plunging down, down into the measureless trough, which seems yawning to ingulf us forever. Wildly blows the gale, more and more wildly bound the mighty

* The name given by the writer to her own rustic home.

billows, with a roaring as though all the monsters of the deep were swarming around us. But not so. Neither the wide mouth of the shark, the brown back of the porpoise, nor the spouting nostril of the whale is visible; the brilliant dolphin, in his opal jacket, has retreated to his own haunts below the storm, and the little "Portuguese man-of-war" has drawn in the pink and purple fringes of his silver sail, and rolls, like a cunning beetle, from wave to wave, as light as the bubble from which he cannot be distinguished.

Even the albatross flapped his strong pinion, and wheeled away when he saw the winds gathering dark in the heavens; the Cape pigeon lingered a little, as though caring lightly for the ruffling of his mottled plumage, and then spread his butterfly embroidered wings, and hurried after; but the stormy petrel, though small and delicate as the timid wren, (I will take a lesson from thee, busy, daring little spirit that thou art, bright velvet-winged petrel,) scorns to seek safety, but by breasting the gale.

And here he remains, carousing amid the foam, as though those liquid pearls, leaping high in air, and scattering themselves upon the wind, had a magic in them to shield him from danger. He dips his wing in the angry tide as daintily as though it were stirred but in silver ripples; then he darts upward, and then plunges and is lost in the enshrouding foam. But, no; he is again in air, whirling and balancing, wheeling and careering, up and down, as though stark mad with joyousness, and now he vaults upon the back of the nearest foam-bank, and disappears to rise again as before.

And still the billows roar and bound, and lash the sides of the trembling ship, and sweep with strange force her decks; and still we reel and plunge, down, down, down, surely. No; we are up again, leaping skyward; we pause a moment — and what a fearful pitch was that! Ah, my brain grows giddy, but still I cannot hide myself in my dark cabin. Thank God, that He has spread the land before our eyes at last, that He has shielded us, when wrath was stirring in the heavens, and darkness was upon the waters; that He has pinioned the wings of the wind, and said to the waves: "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther!"

WE'VE ALL OUR ANGEL SIDE.

THE huge rough stones from out the mine, Unsightly and unfair,

Have veins of purest metal hid

Beneath the surface there.

Few rocks so bare but to their heights
Some tiny moss-plant clings;
And round the peaks so desolate,
The sea-bird sits and sings.
Believe me, too, that rugged souls,
Beneath their rudeness hide
Much that is beautiful and good —
We've all our angel side.

In all there is an inner depth,
A far-off secret way,

Where, through the windows of the soul,

God sends His smiling ray.

In every human heart there is

A faithful, sounding chord

That may be struck, unknown to us,
By some sweet, loving word.

The wayward will in man may try
Its softer thoughts to hide-

Some unexpected tone reveals
It has an angel side.

Despised, and lone, and trodden down,
Dark with the shades of sin,
Deciphering not those halo-lights
Which God has lit within:
Groping about in endless night,
Poor, poisoned souls they are,
Who guess not what life's meaning is,
Nor dream of heaven afar.

Oh, that some gentle hand of love
Their stumbling steps would guide,
And show them that, amidst it all,
Life has its angel side!

Brutal, and mean, and dark enough,
God knows some natures are;
But He, compassionate comes near,
And shall we stand afar?

Our cruse of oil will not grow less
If shared with hearty hand;
For words of peace and looks of love
Few natures can withstand.

Love is the mighty conqueror,
Love is the beauteous guide,
Love, with her beaming eyes, can see
We've all our angel side.

Α'

THE SEVEN AGES OF MAN.

LL the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms:
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, the soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well served, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes

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