694. ADVANTAGES OF KNOWLEDGE. Knowledge, in general, expands the mind, exalts the faculties, refines the taste of pleasure, and opens innumerable sources of intellectual enjoyment. By means of it, we become less dependent for satisfaction upon the sensitive appetites; the gross pleasures of sense are more easily despised, and we are made to feel the superiority of the spiritual to the material part of our nature. Instead of being continually solicited by the influence, and irritation of sensible objects, the mind can retire within herself, and expatiate in the cool and quiet walks of contemplation. The poor man, who can read, and who possesses a taste for reading, can find entertainment at home, without being tempted to repair to the public house for that purpose. His mind can find him employment, when his body is at rest; he does not lie prostrate, and afloat, on the current of incidents, liable to be carried, whithersoever the impulse of appetite may direct. There is, in the mind of such a man, an intellectual spring, urging him to the pursuit of mental good; and if the minds of his family, also, are a little cultivated, conversation becomes the more interesting, and the sphere of domestic enjoyment enlarged. The calm satisfaction, which books afford, puts him into a disposition to relish, more exquisitely, the tranquil delight, inseparable from the indulgence of conjugal, and parental affection: and as he will be more respectable, in the eyes of his family, than he, who can teach them nothing, he will be naturally induced to cultivate, whatever may preserve, and shun whatever would impair that respect. He, who is inured to reflection, will carry his views beyond the present hour; he will extend his prospect a little into futurity, and be disposed to make some provision for his approaching wants; whence will result, an increased motive to industry, together with a care to husband his earnings, and to avoid unnecessary expense. The poor man who has gained a taste for good books, will, in all likelihood, become thoughtful, and when you have given the poor a habit of thinking, you have conferred on them a much greater favor, than by the gift of a large sum of money; since you have put them in possession of the principle of all legitimate prosperity.-R. Hall. TIME'S SOFTENING POWER. As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower But wins the heart and wakes the social sigh, Hope and fear, alternate, swayed his breast, That earth-has no creations, like the figments of our sleep. The hand he ne'er had gain'd from love, he won from her despair. flowers; Who had not thought, that white-rob'd band-the funeral array eyes, And deem'd it less a christian rite, than a pagan sacrifice; He held it-with a miser's clutch; it was his darling gold; blow, assuage; [age. Thus early-beauty-sheds her bloom-on the wintry breast of 696. THE DEW-DROP IN SPRING. It smiles on the lark as he upward flies; And forgets in its slumber the sports of the day. 697. SPECIMEN OF INDIAN LANGUAGE. We are happy, in having buried, under ground, the red axe, that has so often been dyed-with the blood of our brethren. Now, in this fort, we inter the axe, and plant the tree of Peace. We plant a tree, whose top will reach the sun, and its branches spread abroad, so that it shall be seen afar off. May its growth never be stifled and choked; but may it shade both your country and ours with its leaves. Let us make fast its roots, and extend them to the uttermost of your colonies. If the French should come to shake this tree, we should know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our country. May the Great Spirit-allow us to rest, in tranquillity, upon our mats, and never again dig up the axe, to cut down the tree of Peace! Let the earth be trod hard over it, where it lies buried. Let a strong stream run under the pit, to wash the evil away, out of our sight and remembrance. The fire, that had long burned in Albany, is extinguished. The bloody bed is washed clean, and the tears are wiped from our eyes. We now renew the covenant-chain of friendship. Let it be kept bright and clean as silver, and not suffered to contract any rust. Let not any one pull away his arm from it. MARSEILLES HYMN OF LIBERTY. Ye sons of Freedom, wake to glory! Hark! hark, what myriads bid you rise! Now, now, the dangerous storm is rolling, While lawless force with guilty stride, Once-having felt thy generous flame? That falsehood's dagger-tyrants wield, 698. OTHELLO'S APOLOGY. Most potent, grave, and reverend seigniors: My very noble, and approv'd good masters: That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her : The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent; no more. peace: Rude am I in speech, And little blessed with the set phrase of For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, [us'd Till now some nine moons wasted, they have What conjuration, and what mighty magic, Her father lov'd me; oft invited me ; I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days, All these to hear, But still the house affairs would draw her thence, I did consent; And often did beguile her of her tears, 699. MAJESTY OF THE LAW. How im posing is the majesty of the law! how calm her dignity; how vast-her power; how firm, and tranquil, in her reign! It is not by fleets, and arms, by devastation, and wrong, by op pression, and blood-she maintains her sway, and executes her decrees. Sustained by justice, reason, and the great interests of man, she but speaks, and is obeyed. Even those, who do not approve, hesitate not-to support her; and the individual, upon whom her judgment falls, knows, that submission-is not only a duty, he must perform, but, that the security, and enjoyment, of all that is dear to him, depend upon it. A mind-accustomed to acknowledge no power, but physical force, no obedience, but personal fear, must view, with astonishment, a feeble individual, sitting, with no parade of strength, surrounded by no visible agents of power, issuing his decrees with oracular authority; while the rich, and the great, the first and the meanest-await, alike, to perform his will. Still more wonderful is it-to behold the co-ordinate officers of the same government, yielding their pretensions to his higher influence: the executive, the usual depository instrument of power; the legislature even the representative of the people, yield a respectful acquiescence- -to the judgments of the tribunals of the law, pronounced by the minister, and expounder of the law. Is it enough for him to say-"It is the opinion of the court-" and the farthest corner of our republic-feels, and obeys the mandate. What a sublime spectacle! This is indeed, the empire of the law; and safe, and happy-are all they, who dwell within it.-Hopkinson. 700. SPEECH OF CATILINE, BEFORE THE ROMAN Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, 701. DOCTOR AND PUPIL. A pupil of the Esculapian school, And briefly of his corps performed each motion; Manoeuvres that for Death's platoon are meant: A kind of a Make-ready-and-Present, Before the fell discharge of pill and potion. At length, the patient's wife he thus addressed: "Madam, your husband's danger's great, And (what will never his complaint abate,) The man's been eating oysters, I perceive.""Dear! you 're a witch, I verily believe," Madam replied, and to the truth confessed. Skill so prodigious, Bobby, too, admired; And home returning, of the sage inquired How these same oysters came into his head? « Psha! my dear Bob, the thing was plainSure that can ne'er distress thy brain; I saw the shells lie underneath the bed." So wise, by such a lesson grown, And to the self-same sufferer paid his courtBut soon, with haste and wonder out of breath, Returned the stripling minister of death, And to his master made this dread report: "Why, sir, we ne'er can keep that patient under; Zounds! such a man I never came across! The fellow must be dying, and no wonder, For ne'er believe me if he has n't eat a horse!" "A horse!" the elder man of physic cried, As if he meant his pupil to deride"How got so wild a notion in your head?" "How! think not in my duty I was idle; Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed, And there I saw a saddle and a bridle!" Mr. Locke was asked, how he had contrived to accumulate a mine of knowledge so rich, yet so extensive and so deep. He replied, that he attributed what little he knew to the not having been ashamed to ask for information, and to the rule he had laid down, of conversing with all descriptions of men, on those topics chiefly, that formed their own peculiar professions or pursuits. With THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. When marshaled-on the nightly plain, 702. THE RESURRECTION OF THE LORD. | And the fell blast, that sweeps Arabian sands, Twice--had the sun--gone down upon the It withered-every floweret of the vale. earth, and all as yet, was silent--at the sepulchre. Death-held his sceptre-over the I saw it tread upon a lily fair, Son of God. Still--and silent-the hours A maid--of whom the world-could say no harm; passed on; the guards-stood at their post; And, when she sunk-beneath the mortal wound, the rays of the midnight moon-gleamed on It broke-into the sacred sepulchre, their helmets, and on their spears. The ene- And dragged its victim--from the hallowed grave, mies of Christ-exulted in their success; the For public eyes to gaze on. It hath wept, hearts of his friends-were sunk in despon-That from the earth-its victim passed away, dency; the spirits of glory--waited, in anx- Ere it had taken vengeance—on his virtues. ious suspense-to behold the event, and wondered at the depth of the ways of God. Yea, I have seen this cursed child of Envy. At length, the morning star, arising in the Breathe mildew-on the sacred fame--of him, east, announced the approach of light. The Who once had been his country's benefactor; third day-began to duwn upon the world; And, on the sepulchre-of his repose, when, on a sudden, the earth-trembled-to Bedewed with many a tributary tear, its centre; and the powers of heaven were Dance, in the moonlight of a summer's sky, shaken; an angel of God-descended; the guards-shrunk back-from the terror of savage satisfaction.-Milford Bard. his presence, and fell prostrate on the ground. "His countenance-was like lightning, and his raiment--white as snow." He rolled away the stone from the door of the sepulchre, and sat upon it. But who is this, that cometh forth from the tomb, with dyed garments from the bed of death? He, that is glorious in his appearance, walking in the greatness of his strength? It is thy prince, O Zion! Christian, it is your Lord! He hath trodden the wine-press alone; he hath stained his raiment with blood; but now, as the first born-from the womb of nature, he meets-the morning of his resurrection. He arises a conqueror-from the grave; he returns with blessings-from the world of spirits; he brings salvation-to the sons of men. Never did the returning sun-usher in a day so glorious. It was the jubilee-of the universe. The morning stars sung together, and all the sons of God shouted aloud--for joy. The Father of mercies--looked down from his throne in the heavens; with complacency he beheld his world--restored; he saw his work, that it was good. Then, did the desert rejoice, the face of nature was gladdened before him, when the blessings of the Eternal descended, as the dews of heaven, for the refreshing of the nations. 703. SLANDER. Tis an assassin-at the midnight hour Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. The storm was loud, the night was dark, Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; It was the star of Bethlehem. It bade my dark forebodings cease, The star, the star of Bethlehem.-White! To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd: God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more 1 704. THE FEMALE CHARACTER. If we glance at those domestic relations, which woman sustains, she appears in an attitude highly interesting. Is she a daughter? She has a strong hold on the parental bosom. By her kind, discreet, obedient, dutiful conduct, she contributes greatly to the happiness of those, who tenderly love her, and who are her natural guardians, and guides. Or, by the opposite conduct, she disappoints their hopes, and pierces their hearts with sorrow. Just in proportion to the superior strength, and tenderness of parental affection, is the happiness or misery resulting from the kind, or unkind deportment of a daughter. Is she a sister? If intelligent and virtuous, she sheds the most kindly influence on the little circle of kindred spirits in which she daily moves. Is she a wife? The relation is most endearing, and its duties most important. Taken, originally, from man's heart, she is ever to be his most kind, affectionate and faithful partner. To contribute to his happiness, is always to be her first earthly care. It is hers, not merely to amuse his leisure hours, but to be his intelligent companion, friend, and counsellor; his second self; his constant and substantial helper, both as to the concerns of this life, and as to his eternal interests. She is to do him good, all the days of her life. And by so doing, to dwell in his heart. Is she a mother? It is hers, in no small degree, to form the character of the next generation. Constantly with her children, having the chief care of them in their infancy, and early childhood,--the most susceptible, the forming period of life,-to her, in an important sense, are committed the character, and the destiny-of individuals, and nations. Many of the most distinguished, and of the most excellent men, this, or any country has produced, were indebted, under God, chiefly to the exertions of their mothers, during their early childhood. Thus viewed in her domestic relations, woman appears in a highly interesting light. So she does, when seen in other stations. See her taking an active part in various benevolent associations. There, she exerts an influence in the cause of humanity, and of religion, the most powerful, and beneficial. Like an angel of mercy on the wing, she performs her part with promptitude and compassion. 705. THE CONSTANY OF WOMAN. Woman! Blest partner our joys and woes! Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows, Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill! [still, Bright o'er the wasted scene thou hoverest Angel of comfort to the failing soul; Undaunted by the tempest, wild and chill, That pours its restless and disastrous roll. [howl. O'er all that blooms below, with sad and hollow When sorro' rends the heart, when fev'rish pain Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow, To soothe the soul, to cool the burning brain, O! who so welcome and so prompt as thou! The battle's hurried scene, and angry glow,The death-encircled pillow of distress,The lonely moments of secluded woAlike thy care and constancy confess, [bless. Alike thy pitying hand and fearless friendship 706. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. I am monarch-of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre-all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. Oh solitude! where are the charins, That sages-have seen in thy face? Better dwell-in the midst of alarms, Than reign-in this horrible place. I am out-of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey-alone; Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts, that roam over the plain, My form, with indifference see: They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness-is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestow'd upon man, Oh, had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows-I then might assuage, In the ways of religion and truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd--by the sallies of youth. Religion! what treasure untold, Resides in that heavenly word! More precious-than silver or gold, Or all, that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell, These valleys, and rocks, never heard ; Ne'er sigh'd-at the sound of a knell, Or smil'd, when a sabbath appear'd. Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore, Some cordial, endearing report, Of a land, I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send, A wish, or a thought after me? O tell me, I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see. And the swift-wing'd arrows of light; And reconciles man to his lot.-Cowper. BATTLE. Now shield-with shield, with helmet,-helmet To armor-armor, lance to lance oppos'd; [clos'd, Host-against host, the shadowy squadrons drew; The sounding darts-in iron tempest flew. Victors, and vanquish'd, join promiscuous cries, And thrilling shouts--and dying groans arise : With streaming blood, the slipp'ry fields are dy'd, And slaughter'd heroes, swell the dreadful tide. |