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her side. The little one looked with cunning eyes at his mother, and opened the small hands in which he hid a little bùtterfly he had caught and brought with him; and the butterfly waved over the little corpse. The mother looked at it and smiled. She understood certainly the poetry of the incident.

5. Not even the magnificent harbor of Constantinople, in which security, depth, and expanse are combined, can rival the peerless, land-locked Bay of San Francisco. How shall we descrìbe it? You are sailing along the high coast of California, when suddenly a gàp is seen, as if the rocks had been rent asùnder: you leave the open ócean, and enter the stràit. The mountains tower so high on either hand that it seems but a stone's throw from your vessel to the shòre, though, in reality, it is a mìle. Slowly advancing, an hour's sail brings you to where the strait grows still nàrrower; and lo! before you, rising from the very middle of the waters, a steep rock towers alost like a giant wàrder of the strait.

6. I remember seeing, through Lord Rosse's telescope, one of those nèbulæ which have hitherto appeared like small masses of vàpor floating about in space. I saw it composed of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stàrs; and the effect to the eye-to mịne at least—was as if I had had my hand full of diamonds, and suddenly unclosing it and flinging them forth, they were dispersed as from a center, in a kind of partly irrégular, partly fànlike form. And I had a strange feeling of suspense and amazement while I looked, because they did not change their relative position, did not fàll—though in the act to fall—but seemed fixed in the very attitude of being flung forth into space. It was most wondrous and beautiful to see.

7. “Having in my youth notions of severe piety,” says a celebrated Persian writer, “I used to rise in the night to watch, pray, and read the Kòran. One night, as I was engaged in these exercises, my father, a man of practical virtue, awòke while I was reading. “Behold,' said I to him, 'thy other children are lost in irreligious slùmber, while I alone wake to praise Gòd !'Son of my soul,' he answered, “it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of thy brethren.'

IV. Didactic. 1. Generally speaking, an author's style is a faithful copy of his mind. If you would write a lúcid style, let there first be light in your own mind; and if you would write a gránd style, you ought to have a grand chàracter.

2. The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake

Our thirsty souls with ràin;
The blow most dreaded falls to break

From off our limbs a chàin;
And wrongs of man to mán but make

The love of Gòd more plain.
As through the shadowy lens of even
The eye looks farthest into heaven,
On gleams of star and depths of blue
The glaring súnshine never knèw.

3. A man's true wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to his fellow-man. When he dies, people will say,

What pròperty has he left behind him ?” But the angels who examine him will ask, “What good deeds hast thou sent before thee?"

4. The tastes of men may differ very considerably as to their object, and yet none of them be wrong. One man relishes poetry most; another takes pleasure in bothing but history. One prefers comedy; another, tragedy. One admires the símple; another, the ornamented style. The young are amused with gay and spríghtly compositions; the elderly are more entertained with those of a gràver cast. Some nations delight in bold pictures of mánners and strong representations of passions; others incline to more correct and regular èlegance both in description and sentiment. Though all differ, yet all pitch upon some one beauty which peculiarly suits their turn of mind,-and, therefore, no one has a title to condemn the rest.

5. How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things which would frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important usefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, “He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do any." Good is done by degrees.

6. Be nòble! and the nobleness that lies

In other men, sleeping, but never dead,
Will rise in majesty to meet thine òwn.


I have seen
A curious child who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intèntly; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard-sonorous cadences ! whereby,
To his belief, the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sèa.
-Even such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of Faith.

V. Public Address. 1. Canning, in a reply to one of Lord Brougham's speeches, used the following illustration :-In Queen Anne's reign there lived a very sage and able critic, named Dennis, who, in his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy that he himself had written all the good things in all the good plàys that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any author he insisted was his own.

It is none of his,” Dennis would say; “nò, it's mine!" He went one day to see a new tràgedy. Nothing particularly good to his taste occurred till a scene in which a great stòrm was represented. As soon as he heard the thunder rolling over head, he exclaimed, “That's mỹ thunder!” So it with the honorable and learned gentleman; it's all his thunder. It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will clàim it as his thùnder.

2. It is common for men to say that such and such things are perfectly ríght, very desirable,-but, unfortunately, they are not pràcticable. Oh nò. Those things which are not practicable are not desirable. There is nothing really beneficial that does not lie within the reach of an informed understanding and a welldirected pursùit. There is nothing that God has judged good for us that He has not given us the means to accòmplish, both in the natural and mòral world. If we cry like children for the moon, like children we must cry


3. I do not mean to be disrespectful; but the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Pàrtington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town; the tide rose to an incredible height; the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction.

In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the seawater, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Pàrtington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean bèat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tèmpest. Gentlemen, be at your ease; be quiet and steady. You will bèat Mrs. Partington.

4. “Poor Indians! Where are they now? Indeed, this is a truly afflicting consideration. The people here may say what they please; but, on the principles of eternal truth and justice, they have no right to this country. They say that they have bought it. Bòught it! Yès. Of whòm ? Of the poor trembling nàtives, who knew that refusal would be in vàin, and who strove to make a merit of necessity by seeming to yield with grace what they knew they had not the power to retàin.”

5. Whatèver your lot on earth, is it not better than you

desérve ? and amidst all your troubles, have not you much to be thànkful for? There are sadder hearts than yours; go and comfort them, and that will comfort you. Are you ill and suffering? By your gentle patience be an example to those who are suffering too. It is the selfish manner in which we live, engrossed by our own troubles, which renders us unmindful of those of others; we hurry through the streets, intent on some business of our own, heeding not the many little acts of kindness we could do for one another which would send us home with a light heart.

6. I do not acknowledge, sir, the right of Plymouth to the whole rock. Nò, the rock underlies all Amèrica; it only crops out here. It has cropped out a great many times in our history. You may recognize it always. Old Putnam stood upon it at Bunker Hill when he said to the Yankee boys, “ Don't fire tiil you see the whites of their èyes.” Ingraham had it for ballast when he put his little sloop between two Austrian frigates, and threatened to blow them out of the water if they did not respect the broad eagle of the United States. Jefferson had it for a writing-desk when he drafted the Declaration of Independence and the “ Statute of Religious Lìberty” for Virginia.

VI. Declamatory. 1. Advànce, then, ye future generations! We would hàil you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence where we are pássing, and shall soon have passed, our own human duràtion.

We bid you wèlcome to this pleasant land of the fàthers. We bid you

welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New Èngland. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government and religious lìberty.

We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights of learning We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domèstic life, to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and chìldren. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting trùth.

2. "The gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tendency of Northern institùtions. He is ignorant of Northern chàracter. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern láborers! Who are the Northern laborers ? The history of your country is their history. The renòwn of your country is thèir renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Where is Concord, and Lèxington, and Princeton, and Trènton, and Saratoga, and Bun-* ker Hill, but in the Nòrth ? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the names of those hallowed spots but the blood, and the struggles, the high daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern làborers? The whole Nòrth is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of Northern laborers ? Gò, sir, go preach insurrection to men like thèse!"

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