670. AMERICA. I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reverend chronicler of the grave, ean all the illusions of ambition realized, can all the wealth of a universal commerce, can all the achievements of successful heroism, or can all the establishments of this world's wisdom, secure to the empire, the permanency of its possessions! Alas! Troy thought so once; yet the land of Priam lives only in song!

Thebes thought so once; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very tombs are as the dust they were vainly intended to commemorate! So thought Palmyra-yet where is she? So thought the country of Demosthenes and the Spartan; yet Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the servile, mindless and enervate Ottoman !

In his hurried march, Time has but looked at their imagined immortality; and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of his footsteps! The days of their glory are as if they never had been; and the island, that was then a speck, rude and neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the inspiration of their bards!

Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent as she appears, may not, one day, be what Athens is, and the young America yet soar to be what Athens was! Who shall say, that, when the European column shall have mouldered, and the night of barbarism obscured its very ruins, that mighty continent may not emerge from the hor son to rule, for its time, Bovereign of the ascendant!-Phillips.

671. THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE.
Heard ye-those loud-contending waves,
That shook-Cecropia's pillared state?
Saw ye the mighty, from their graves
Look up. and tremble at her fate?
Who-shall caim the angry storm?
Who, the mighty task perform.

And bid the raging tumult--cease?
See the son of Hermes rise;
With syren tongue, and speaking eyes,
Hush the noise, and soothe to peace!

Lo from the regions of the north,

The reddening storm of battle pours;
Rous along the trembling earth,

Fusten on Oynihan towers.

"Where rests the sword: where sleep the brave,
Awake: Cecropia's ally save,

From the fury of the blast:
Burst the storm on Phoes' walls;
Rise! or Greece forever falls,

Up: or freedom-breathes her last!"
The jarring states, obsequions now,
View the patriot's hand on high;
Thunder-gathering on les brow;
Lightning-flashing from his eye!
Forne by the tide of words along.
One voice, one mind. inspire the throng:

To arms to arms to arms!" they cry,
"Grasp the shield, and draw the sword,
Lead us to Philippi's lord.

Let us conquer him-or die!"
Ah eloquence! thou wast undone;
Wast from thy nat ve country driven,
When tyramy-eclipsed the sun,

And blotted out the stars of heaven.
When liberty, from Greece withdrew,
And o'er the Adriatic flew,

To where the Ther pours his urn,
She struck the rude Tarpe un roek;
Sparks were kindled by the shock-

Again, thy fires began to burn!
Now, shining forth, thou madest complaint,
The conscript fathers-to thy charms,
Roused the world-bestriding giant,

Sinking fast. in slavery's arms!
I see thee stand-by freedom's fane,
Pouring the persuasive stran.

Giving vast conceptions birth:
Hark! I hear thy thunder's sound,
Shake the forum-round-and round,
Shake-the pillars-of the earth!
First-born of liberty divine!

Put on religion's bigght array;
Speak! and the starless grave-shall shine,
The portal-of eternal day!
Rise, kindling with the orient beam;
Let Calvary's hill-nspire the theme!

Unfold the garments-rolled in blood!
O touch the soul. touch all her chords,
With all the omnipotence of words.

And point the way to heaven-to God.-Carey.
THE INFLUENCE OF GOLD. A min who
is furnished with arguments from the mint,
will convince his antagonist much sooner
than one who draws them from reason and
philosophy. Gold is a wonderful clearer of
the understanding; it dissipates every doubt
and scruple in an instant; accommodates it
self to the meanest capacities, silences the
Philip of Macedon
loud and clamorous, and brings over the most
obstinate and inflexible.
was a man of most invincible reason this
way. He refuted by it all the wisdom of
Athens, confounded their statesmen, struck
their orators dumb, and at len, th, argued
them out of all their liberties.-A idison.

THE WORLD TO COME.

If all our hopes, and all our fears,

Were prisoned-in 1 te's narrow bound;
If travelers-through this vale of tears,
We saw no better world beyond;
Oh what could check the ris ng s gh?
What earthly thing--could pleasure give?
Oh! who would venture then, to de-
Or who would venture then-to live?
Were life a dark, and desert moor,

Where in sts-and clouds eternal-spread
Their gloony vail behind, before,

And tempests thunder-overlend;
Where not a sun-bean-traks the gloom,
And not a towerei-sinnes beneath,
Who would exist--in such a tomb-
Who dwell in darkness-and in death?
And such were life, without the ray
Of our divine religion given;

Tis this. that makes our darkness, day,

Tis this, that makes our earth-a heaven! Bright is the golden sun above.

And beautiful-the flowers, that bloom,
And all is joy, and all is love,

Reflected from the world to come!
Life is a weary interlude-
Which doth short joys, long woes include:
The world the stage, the prologue tears;
The acts va'n hopes and varied fears;
The scene shuts up with loss of breath.
And leaves no epilogue but death!-1 King
The stomach, hath no ears.

I hope, str. that gentlemen will deliberately survey-the awful isthmus, on which we stand. They may bear down all opposition. They may even vote general Jackson the public thanks. They may carry him triumphant-l pay h in well that can.” ly throuch this house. But, if they do, sir, in'll pay him well that can." my humble judgment, it will be a triumph of Vil you d's charge forego, vat Iain at, the prine ple of insubordination-a triumph from your house I drive away de rat?" of the military-over the civil authority-a With all my heart," the jolly host replies, triumph over the powers of this house--a triEcoutez donc, ami ;" the Frenchman cries. umph over the constitut on of the land; and First, den-Regardez, if you please, I pray, sir. most devoutly, that it may not prove, in its ultima elects and consequen-Bring to dis spot a lestle bread and cheese: ces, a trumpli over the liberties of the people.

674. Loss OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. The loss of a firm, national character, or the degradation of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude to her destruction. Behold the once proud fabric of the Roman empire; an empire, carrying its arts, and arms, into every part of the eastern continent; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms, dragged at the wheels of her triumphal chariots; her eagle, waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory? Extinguished-forever. Her moldering temples, the mournful vestiges of her former grandeur, afford a shelter to her muttering monks. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her philosophers, her orators, her generals? Go to their solitary tombs, and inquire. She lost her national character, and her destruction followed. The ramparts of her national pride were broken down, and Vandalism desolated her classic fields.

Citizens will lose their respect and confidence, in our government, if it does not extend over them, the shield of an honorable, national character. Corruption will creep in, Ambitious and sharpen party animosity. leaders will seize upon the favorable moment. The mad enthusiasm for revolution-will call into action the irritated spirit of our nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our countrymen may yet glitter on our mountains, their blood may yet crimson our plains.

675. GOOD-NIGHT.
Good-night-to all the world! there's none,
Beneath the "over-going" sun,

To whom, I feel, or hate, or spite,
And so to all-a fair good night.
Would I could say, good-night to pain,
Good-night to evil and her train,
To cheerless poverty, and shame,
That I am yet unknown to fame!
Would I could say, good-night to dreams,
That haunt me with delusive gleams,
That through the salle future's vail,
Like meteors, glimmer, but to fail.
Would I could say, a long good-night,
To halting, between wrong, and right,
And, like a giant, with new force,
Awake, prepared to run my course!
But time o'er good and ill sweeps on,
And when few years have come, and gone,
The past-will be to me as naught,
Whether remembered, or forgot.
Yet, let me hope, one faithful friend,
O'er my last couch, in tears shall bend;
And, though no day for me was bright,
Shall bid me then, a long good-night.

RESPECT TO OLD AGE. It happened at Athens, during a public representation of some play,exhibited in honor of the commonwealth, that an old gentleman came too late, for a place suitable to his age, and quality. Many of the young gentlemen, who observed the difficulty and confusion he was in, made signs to him, that they would accommodate him, if he came where they sat. The good man bustled through the crowd accordingly; but when he came to the seat, to which he was invited, the jest was, to sit close, and ex

Such, the warning voice of all antiquity, the example of all republics proclaim-may be our fate. But let us no longer indulge these gloomy anticipations. The commencement of our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter period to the world. That bold, enterprising spirit, which conducted our heroes to peace, and safety, and gave us a lofty rank, amid the empires of the world, still animates the bosoms of their descendants. Look back to the whole audience. The frolic went round the moment, when they unbarred the dun-pose him, as he stood out of countenance, to geons of the slave, and dashed his fetters all the Athenian benches. But, on those oc to the earth, when the sword of a Washing-casions, there were also particular places reton leaped from its scabbard, to revenge the served for foreigners. When the good man slaughter of our countrymen. Place their skulked towards the boxes, appointed for the Let the sparks of Lacedemonians, that honest people, more virexample before you. across your tuous than polite, rose up all to a man, and their veteran wisdom flash minds, and the sacred altars of your liber- with the greatest respect, received him among ty, crowned with immortal honors, rise be- them. The Athenians, being suddenly touchfore you. Relying on the virtue, the cour-ed with a sense of the Spartan virtue, and age, the patriotism, and the strength of our their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of ap country, we may expect our national charac-plause; and the old man cried out, "the Atheter will become more energetic, our citizens nians understand what is good, but the Lacemore enlightened, and may hail the age as demonians practice it. not far distant, when will be heard, as the prondest exclamation of man: I am an

American.-Maxcy.

The bell strikes one: We take no note of time,
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue,
As if an angel spoke,
is wise in man.

[flood?

I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours:
Where are they with the years beyond the
It is the signal that demands despatch:
How much is to be done my hopes and fears
Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down on what a fathomless abyss;
A dread eternity! how surely mine
And can eternity belong to me,
Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?

Reason gains all men, by compelling none.

FORTUNE-TELLER.

A hungry, lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune teller;
A needy, hollow-eye'd, sharp looking wretch,
A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And gazing in my eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd-Shakspeare.

RECREATION.
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy,
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair;)
And at her heels, a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?

676. THE GROVES: GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES.
The groves-were God's first temples. Ere man
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, [learned
And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather, and roll back,
The sound of anthems,-in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered, to the Mightiest, solemn thanks,
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences,
That, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks, that, high in heav'n,
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath, that swayed, at once,
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit--with the thought of boundless Power,
And inaccessible Majesty. Ah! why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore,
Only, among the crowd, and under roofs,

Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token-of the upholding Love,
That are, the soul of this wide universe.

My heart-is awed within me, when I think
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
In silence, round me-the perpetual work
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed-
Forever. Written on thy works, I read
The lesson of thy own eternity.

Lo! all grow old, and die: but see, agan,
How, on the faltering footsteps of decay,
Youth presses-ever gay, and beautiful youth-
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
Wave not less proudly, that their ancestors
Moulder, beneath them. Oh! there is not lost
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
After the flight of untold centuries,

The freshness of her far beginning lies,
And yet shall lie. Life-mocks the idle hate

That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Of his arch enemy-Death; yea, seats himself

Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn; thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in his ear.

Father, thy hand

Hath reared these venerable columns; thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose

All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot towards heav'n. The century-living crow,
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old, and died,
Among their branches; till, at last, they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark-
Fit shrine-for humble worshiper to hold
Communion with his Maker. Here are seen,
No traces of man's pomp, or pride; no silks
Rustle, no jewels shine, nor envious cyes
Encounter; no fantastic carvings-show
The boast of our vain race-to change the form
Of thy fair works. But thou art here; thou fill'st
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds,
That run along the summits of these trees,
In music; thou art in the cooler breath,
That, from the inmost darkness of the place,
Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground,
The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee.
Here, is continual worship; nature, here,
In the tranquillity that thou dost love,
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around,
From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs.
Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness, in these shades,
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace,
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak-
By whose immovable stem I stand, and seem
Almost annihilated-not a prince,
In all the proud old world, beyond the deep,
Fer wore his crown-as loftily as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves, with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest-flower,
With scented breath, and look, so like a smile,

Upon the sepulchre, and blooms, and smiles,
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe,
Makes his own nourishment. For he came fo.n
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end.

There have heen holy men, who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought, and prayer, till they outlived
The generation, born with them, nor seemed
Less aged, than the hoary trees, and rocks,
Around them; and there have been holy men,
Who deemed it were not well-to pass life thus
But let me, often, to these solitudes
Retire, and, in thy presence, reassure
My feeble virtue. Here, its enemies,
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps, shrink,
And tremble, and are still.

O God! when thou
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire
The heavens, with falling thunderbolts, or fill,
With all the waters of the firmament,
The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods,
And drowns the villages; when, at thy call,
Uprises the great deep and throws himself
Upon the continent, and overwhelms
Its cities-who forgets not, at the sight
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
His pride, and lays his strifes, and follies by!
Oh! from the sterner aspects of thy face
Spare me, and mine; nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad, unchained elements, to teach
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate,
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty,
And to the beautiful order of thy works,
Learn to conform the order of our lives.-Bryant
Naturally, men are prone to spin then-
selves a web of opinions out of their o
brain, and to have a religion that may
led their own. Men are far readier to make
themselves a faith, than to receive that which
God hath formed to their hands, and they are
far readier to receive a doctrine that tends to
their carnal commodity, or honor, or delights,
than one that tends to self-denial.

ca

Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squir rels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety but never reach the top.

677. PHYSICAL EDUCATION. That is, un-¡ doubtedly, the wisest, and best regimen, į which takes the infant from the cradle, and conducts him along, through childhood, and youth, up to high maturity, in such a manner, as to give strenth to his arm, swiftness to his feet, solidity and amplitude to his muscles, symmetry to his frame, and expansion to his vital eneries. It is obvious, that this branch of education comprehends, not only food and clothing, but air, exercise, lodging, early rising, and whatever else is requisite, to the full development of the physical constitution. The diet must be simple, the apparel must not be too warm, nor the bed too soft.

Tossed his beamed frontlet-to the sky;
A momen-gazed-down the dale,
A moment--smaffed the ta nted gale,
A moment. I stened to the ery,
That thickened-as the chase drew nigh;
Then, as the headinost toes appeared.
With one brave Lound--the copse he cleared,
And, stretching forward, free, and tar,
Sought the wild heaths-of Uam-Var. -Scot
678. MODULATION.

"Tis not enough-the voice be sound, and eletr, is modulation, that must charm the ear. When desperate heroes grieve, with tedious moan, Let parents beware of too much restriction in the inana ement of their darling boy. Let And wh ne their sorrows, in a see-saw tone, him, in choosing his play, follow the sugges- The same soft sounds-of un mpass oned woes, tions of nature. Let them not be discompos- Can only make the yawning hearers--doze. ed at the sight of his sand-hills in the road, The voice--all modes of pass on can express, his snow-forts im February, and his mud-dams That marks the proper word, with proper stress 1 in April; nor when they chance to look out | But none emphatic--ean that speaker call, in the midt of an August shower, and sce Who lays an equal emphasis-on all. him widing and sailing, and sporting along with the water-fowl. If they would make Some, o'er the tongue-the labored measures roll, him hardy and fearless, they must let him go Slow, and deliberate-as the parting toll; abroad as often as he plea es, in his early Pont every stop, mark every panse so strong, boyhood, and amuse h insed by the hour to Their words, like stage process ous, staik along. gether, in smoothing and twirling the hoary locks of winter. Instead of teep ng him All affectation—but creates disgust; shut up all day with a stove, and graduating And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just, his sleeping-room by Fahrenheit, they must In vain, for them, the pleasing measure flows, let him face the keen edge of a north-wind, Whose recitation-runs it all to prose; when the mercury is below cipher; and, in- Repeating--what the poet sets not down, stead of minding a Lttle shivering, and com- The verse disjointing-from its invorite noun, plaining, when he returns, cheer up his spir-While pause, and break, and repett on jo..

In this way, its, and send him out again. they will teach him. that he was not born to live in the nursery, no to brood over the fire; but to range abroad as free as the snow, and the air, and to gain warmth from exercise. I love, and adm re the youth, who turns not back from the towing waitry blast, nor withers under the baze of summier; who never magnifies mole-bills into mountains;" but whose daring eye, exult ng, scales the cagle's airy cra, and who is ready to undertake anything, that is prudent, and lawful, within the range of possibility. Who would think of planting the mountain-oak-in a green-house or of rearing the cedar of Lebanon-in a lady's flower-pot! Who does not know that in order to attain their mighty strenth, and majestic forms they must freely enjoy the rain, and the sunshine, and must feel the rocking of the tempest?

THE CHASE.

The stag, at eve, had drank h's fill.
Where danced the moon. on Monan's rill,
And deep-sm dught lar had made,
In lone Glenarney's hazel shade;
But, when the sun-h's beacon red
Had kindled, on Benvo`rl'eh's head,
The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky way.
And faint from further distance borne,
Were heard the clang ng hoof and horn.
Aschief, who hears his warder call.

To arms the foeman storm the wall."
The antiered monarch of the waste-
Sprung from his heathery couch, in haste.
But, ere his fleet career he took.
The low-dups, from his flauks, he shook:
Like crested leader, proud, and high,

To make a discord-in each tuneful line.
Some placid natures-fill the allotted scene
With lifeless drawis, insipid and serene:
While others--thunder every couplet o'er.
And almost crack your ears-with rant, an ! roa
More nature, of, and finer strokes are shown,
In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone;
And Hamlet's hollow volee, and fixed amaze,
More powerful terror-to the mind conveys,
Than be, who, swollen with impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage.
He, who, in earnest, studies o'er his part.
Will find true nature--cling about h ́s heart.
The modes of grief--are not included all—-
In the white handkerchief, and mourn ul drawl;
A single look--more marks the internal wor,
Than all the windings of the lengthened-Oh!
Up to the face-the quick sensat on Hes.
And darts its mean ng-from the speaking eyes:
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn. despair,
And all the pass ons, all the soul is there.

NATURE'S WANTS ARE FEW.
Man's rich with Ittle, were his judgment iri,
Nature is frugal, and her wants are few;
Those few wants answered, bring sneere delights,
But fools create themselves new appetites.
Fancy and pride seek things at vast expense,
Which relish nor to reason nor to sense.
When surfeit or unthankfulness destroys,
In nature's marrow sphere, our solid joys,
In faney's a ry land of no se and show.
Where nought but dreams, no real pleasures grow
Like eats in a'r-pumps, to sul s st we strive,
On joys too thin to keep the soul alive. -Young.