This was seen and was heard by the passers-by; and the enemies of Burke, unappeased by his advancing years, by his failing health, by his domestic sorrows, made it the ground of a charge of insanity. "Burke had gone mad."

Sir, so help me heaven, if I were called upon to designate the event or the period in Burke's life that would best sustain a charge of insanity, it would not be when, in a gush of the holiest and purest feeling that ever stirred the human heart, he wept aloud on the neck of his dead son's favorite horse; but it would rather be when, at the meridian of his fame, when the orb of his imperial genius rode highest in the heavens, amidst the scoffs of cringing courtiers, and the sneers of trading patriots, he abased his glorious powers to the scramblings and squabblings of the day, and,

"Born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind."

XLV. IT NEVER PAYS.

Ir never pays to fret and growl
When fortune seems our foe;
The better bred will push ahead
And strike the heavier blow;
For luck is work,

And those who shirk
Should not lament their doom,

But yield the play,

And clear the way

That better men have room.

It never pays to wreck the health

In drudging after gain;

And he is sold who thinks that gold
Is cheapest bought with pain.

An humble lot,

A cosy cot,

Have tempted even kings
For station high,

That wealth will buy,

Not oft contentment brings.

It never pays! a blunt refrain
Well worthy of a song;

For age and youth must learn the truth,
That nothing pays that's wrong;
The good and pure
Alone are sure
To bring prolonged success;
While what is right

In Heaven's sight

Is always sure to bless.

ADVICE TO AN ADVOCATE.

BE brief, be pointed; let your matter stand

Lucid, in order, solid, and at hand;

Spend not your words on trifles, but condense;
Strike with mass of thoughts, not drops of sense;

Press to the close with vigor, once begun,

And leave (how hard the task!) leave off when done;
Who draws a labored length of reasoning out,

Puts straw in lines for winds to whirl about;
Who draws a tedious tale of learning o'er,

Counts but the sands on ocean's boundless shore;
Victory, if gained, is gained by battles fought,
Not by the numbers, but the forces brought.
What boots success in skirmish or in fray,
If rout or ruin, following, close the day?

What worth a hundred posts, maintained with skill,
If, these all held, the foe is victor still?

He who would win his cause, with power must frame
Points of support, and look with steady aim;
Attack the weak, defend the strong with art,
Strike but few blows, but strike them to the heart;
All scattered fires but end in smoke and noise,-
The scorn of men, the idle play of boys.

Keep, then, this first great precept, ever near:

Short be your speech, your matter strong and clear;
Earnest your manner, warm and rich your style,
Severe in taste, yet full of grace the while;
So you may reach the loftiest heights of fame,
And leave, when life is past, a deathless name.

-Judge Story.

XLVI.-FOES UNITED IN DEATH.

THERE was no fierceness in the eyes of those men now, as they sat face to face on the bank of the stream; the strife and the anger had all gone now, and they sat still,-dying men, who but a few hours before had been deadly foes,sat still, and looked at each other. At last one of them spoke: "We haven't either of us a chance to hold out much longer, I judge." "No," said the other, with a little mixture of sadness and recklessness, "you did that last job of yours well, as that bears witness," and he pointed to a wound a little above the heart, from which the life blood was slowly oozing. "Not better than you did yours," answered the other, with a grim smile, and he pointed to a wound a little higher up, larger and more ragged,—a deadly wound.

Then the two men gazed upon each other again in the dim light; for the moon had come over the hills now, and stood among the stars like a pearl of great price. And as they looked, a soft feeling stole over the heart of each toward his fallen foe,-a feeling of pity for the strong, manly life laid low, a feeling of regret for the inexorable necessity of war, which made each man the slayer of the other; and at last one spoke: "There are some folks in the world that'll feel worse when you are gone out of it."

A spasm of pain was on the bronzed, ghastly features. "Yes," said the man, in husky tones, "there's one woman

with a boy and girl, away up among the New Hampshire mountains, that it will well-nigh kill to hear of this;" and he groaned out in bitter anguish, "O God, have pity on my wife and children!" The other drew closer to him : "And away down among the cotton-fields of Georgia, there's a woman and a little girl whose hearts will break when they hear what this day has done;" and then the cry wrung itself sharply out of his heart, "O God, have pity upon them!" From that moment the Northerner and the Southerner ceased to be foes. The thought of those distant homes on which the anguish was to fall drew them closer together in that last hour, and the two men wept like little children.

At last the Northerner spoke, talking more to himself than to any one else, and he did not know that the other was listening greedily to every word, "She used to come,my little girl, bless her heart!-every night to meet me when I came home from the fields; and she would stand under the great plum-tree that's just beyond the back door at home, with the sunlight making yellow brown in her golden curls, and the laugh dancing in her eyes when she heard the click of the gate,-I see her now,—and I'd take her in my arms, and she'd put up her little red lips for a kiss; but my little darling will never watch under the old plum-tree by the well for her father again. I shall never hear the cry of joy as she catches a glimpse of me at the gate. I shall never see her little feet running over the grass to spring into my arms again!”

"Then," said the Southerner, "there's a little browneyed, brown-haired girl, that used to watch in the cool afternoons for her father, when he rode in from his visit to the plantations. I can see her sweet little face shining out now, from the roses that covered the pillars, and hear her shouts of joy as I bounded from my horse, and chased the little flying feet up and down the veranda again."

The Northerner drew near to the Southerner, and spoke

now in a husky whisper, for the eyes of the dying men were glazing fast, "We have fought here, like men, together. We are going before God in a little while. Let us forgive each other." The Southerner tried to speak, but the sound died away in a murmur from his white lips; but he took the hand of his fallen foe, and his stiffening fingers closed over it, and his last look was a smile of forgiveness

and peace.

When the next morning's sun walked up the gray stairs of the dawn, it looked down and saw the two foes lying dead, with their hands clasped, by the stream which ran close to the battle-field; and the little girl with golden hair, that watched under the plum-tree, among the hills of New Hampshire, and the little girl with bright brown hair, that waited by the roses, among the green fields of Georgia, were fatherless.

XLVII.—THE PUREST PEARL.

BESIDE the church door, a-weary and alone,
A blind woman sat on the cold door-stone;
The wind was bitter, the snow fell fast,
And a mocking voice in the fitful blast

Seemed ever to echo her morning cry,
As she begged an alms of the passers-by,
"Have pity on me, have pity, I pray;
My back is bent, and my hair is gray."

The bells were ringing the hour of prayer,
And many good people were gathered there,
But covered with furs and mantles warm,
They hurried past through the wintry storm.

Some were hoping their souls to save,

And some were thinking of death and the grave;
And, alas! they had no time to heed

The poor soul asking for charity's meed:

K. N. E.-18.