tried to enliven the dreary journey they were performing together by little attempts at cheerfulness, and at length succeeded in winning a smile from her fellow-sufferer. 5. A colossal statue of Liberty, composed of clay, like the liberty of the time, then stood in the middle of the Place de la Concorde, on the spot now occupied by the Obelisk; the scaffold was erected beside this statue. Upon arriving there, Madame Roland descended from the cart in which she had been conveyed. Just as the executioner had seized her arm to enable her to be the first to mount to the guillotine, she displayed an instance of that noble and tender consideration for others, which only a woman's heart could conceive, or put into practice at such a Stay!" said she, momentarily resisting the man's grasp. "I have one only favor to ask, and that is not for myself; I beseech you grant it me." Then, turning to the old man, she said, "Do you precede me to the scaffold; to see my blood flow would be making you suffer the bitterness of death twice over. I must spare you the pain of witnessing my punishment." The executioner allowed this arrangement to be made. moment. 66 6. With what sensibility and firmness must the mind have been imbued which could, at such a time, forget its own sufferings, to think only of saving one pang to an unknown old man! and how clearly does this one little trait attest the heroic calmness with which this celebrated woman met her death! After the execution of Lamarche, which she witnessed without changing color, Madame Roland stepped lightly up to the scaffold, and, bowing before the statue of Liberty, as though to do homage to a power for whom she was about to die, exclaimed, “O, Liberty! Liberty! how many crimes are committed in thy name!" She then resigned herself to the hands of the executioner, and in a few seconds her head fell into the basket placed to receive it. LAMARTINE. CXXXVIII. - WHAT A COMMON MAN MAY SAY. 1. I AM lodged in a house that affords me conveniences and comforts which even a king could not command some centuries ago. There are ships crossing the seas in every direction, some propelled by steam and some by the wind, to bring what is useful to me from all parts of the earth. In China, men are gathering the tea-leaf for me; in the Southern States, they are planting cotton for me; in the West India Islands, and in Brazil, they are preparing my sugar and my coffee; in Italy, they are feeding silk-worms for me; at home, they are shearing sheep to make me clothing powerful steam-engines are spinning and weaving for me, and making cutlery for me, and pumping the mines, that minerals useful to me may be procured. 2. My patrimony was small, yet I have locomotive engines running, day and night, on all the railroads, to carry my correspondence. I have canals to bring the coal for my winter fire. Then I have telegraphic lines, which tell me what has happened a thousand miles off, the same day of its occurrence; which flash a message for me in a minute to the bedside of a sick relative hundreds of miles distant; and I have editors and printers who daily send me an account of what is going on throughout the world, amongst all these people who serve me. By the daguer reotype I procure in a few seconds a perfect likeness of myself or friend, drawn without human touch, by the simple agency of light. the 3. And then, in a corner of my house, I have books! miracle of all my possessions, more wonderful than the wishingcap of the Arabian Tales; for they transport me instantly not only to all places, but to all times. By my books I can con'jure up before me, to vivid existence, all the great and good men of old; and, for my own private satisfaction, I can make them act over again the most renowned of all their exploits. In a word, from the equator to the pole, and from the beginning of time until now, by my books I can be where I please. 4. This picture is not overcharged, and might be much extended; such being the miracle of God's goodness and providence, that each individual of the civilized millions that cover the earth may have nearly the same enjoyments as if he were the single lord of all! CXXXIX. STRONG DRINK MAKETH MEN FOOLS. 1. THIS gentleman and I Passed but just now by your next neighbor's house, An unthrift youth, his father now at sea, And there, this night, was held a sumptuous feast. That their unsteadfast footing did proceed 2 This conceived, Each one begins to apprehend the danger, All fall to work, and hoist into the street, As to the sea, what next comes to their hand- 3. Here a fellow whistles They take him for the boatswain ; one lies struggling A third takes the bass-viol for a cock-boat, Sits in the hollow on 't, labors and rows, His oar, the stick with which the fiddler played; EI Still fumbling on a gittern. The rude multitude, Cast from the windows, went by the ears about it. 4. The constable is called to atone the broil; Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them And think it Neptune's trident; and that he T. HEYWOOD. CXL. THE LUTIST AND THE NIGHTINGALE.* 1 PASSING from Italy to Greece, the tales Desire of visiting this Paradise. To Thessaly I came, and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions There are well-authenticated instances of singing-birds that have dropped down deal in the apparent effort to emulate the music produced from some instrument. Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, 2. A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather, Indeed, entranced my soul: as I stole nearer, Invited by the melody, I saw EI This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute, 3. A nightingale, sang Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes him down 4. Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes Had busied many hours to perfect practice. To end the controversy, in a rapture Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly, That there was curiosity in cunning, Concord in discord, lines of differing method Meeting in one full centre of delight. 5. The bird (ordained to be Music's true martyr) strove to imitate These several sounds; which, when her warbling throat Failed in, for grief down dropt she on his lute, And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness To see the conqueror138 upon her hearse Το weep a funeral elegy of tears. 6 He looked upon the trophies of his art, Then sighed, then wiped his eyes; then sighed and cried, "Alas! poor creature, I will soon revenge This cruelty upon the author of it. Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood, Shall never more betray a harmless peace To an untimely end: and in that sorrow As he was dashing it against a tree, I suddenly stept in. 1. THE TARDY SPRING.— Whittier. WE wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south, The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled, 2. THE BLUE-BIRD'S SONG. A. B. Street. Hark, that sweet carol! With delight And Nature, in her brightening looks, 3 THE DELIGHTS OF SPRING.-Mary Howitt. FORD |