profound obscurity. Should that catastrophe happen, let it have no history! Let the horrible narrative never be written! Let its fate be like that of the lost books of Livy, which no human eye shall ever read; or the missing Pleiad,' of which no man can ever know more, than that it is lost, and lost forever!

4. But, gentlemen, I will not take my leave of you in a tone of despondency. We may trust that Heaven will not forsake us, nor permit us to forsake ourselves. We must strengthen ourselves, and gird up our loins with new resolution; we must counsel each other; and, determined to sustain each other in the support of the Constitution, prepare to meet manfully, and united, whatever, of difficulty or of danger, whatever of effort or of sacrifice, the providence of God may call upon us to meet.

5. Are we of this generation so derelict, have we so little of the blood of our revolutionary fathers coursing through our veins, that we cannot preserve what they achieved? The world will cry out "SHAME" upon us, if we show ourselves unworthy to be the descendants of those great and illustrious men, who fought for their liberty, and secured it to their posterity, by the Constitution of the United States.

6. Gentlemen, inspiring auspices, this day, surround us and cheer us. It is the anniversary of the birth of Washington. We should know this, even if we had lost our calendars, for we should be reminded of it by the shouts of joy and gladness. The whole atmosphere is redolent of his name; hills and forests, rocks and rivers echo and reëcho his praises. All the good, whether learned or unlearned, high or low, rich or poor, feel, this day, that there is one treasure common to them all, and that is the fame and character of Washington. They recount his deeds, ponder over his principles and teachings, and resolve to be more and more guided by them in the future.

7. To the old and the young, to all born in the land, and to all whose love of liberty has brought them from foreign shores to make this the home of their adoption, the name of Washing

1 Pleiad (plè' yad). The Pleiades, in heathen mythology, were the seven daughters of Atlas, who were translated to the heavens, and formed the seven stars in the neck of the constellation Taurus. There are, however, but six visible to the naked eye, and hence the expression, the lost Pleiad.

ton is this day an exhilarating theme. Americans by birth are proud of his character, and exiles from foreign shores are eager to participate in admiration of him; and it is true that he is, this day, here, everywhere, all the world over, more an object of love and regard than on any day since his birth.

8. Gentlemen, on Washington's principles, and under the guidance of his example, will we and our children uphold the Constitution. Under his military leadership our fathers corquered; and under the outspread banner of his political and constitutional principles will we also conquer. To that standard we shall adhere, and uphold it through evil report and through good report. We will meet danger, we will meet death, if they come, in its protection; and we will struggle on, in daylight and in darkness, ay, in the thickest darkness, with all the storms which it may bring with it, till

"Danger's troubled night is o'er

And the star of Peace return."

DANIEL WEBSTER.

DANIEL WEBSTER, one of the greatest, if not the greatest of American orators, jurists, and statesmen, was born in the town of Salisbury, New Hampshire, January 18, 1782. At the age of fifteen he entered Dartmouth College, where he graduated in due course, exhibiting remarkable faculties of mind. When in his nineteenth year, he delivered a Fourth of July oration, at the request of the citizens of Hanover, which, energetic, and well stored with historical matter, proved him, at that early age, something more than a sounder of empty words. Upon graduating, in 1801, he assumed the charge of an academy for a year; then commenced the study of law in his native village, which he completed in Boston in 1805. He first practiced his profession near his early home; but, not long after, feeling the necessity of a wider sphere of action, he removed to Portsmouth, where he soon gained a prominent position. In 1812 1.e was elected to a seat in the National Congress, were he displayed remarkable powers both as a debater and an orater. In 1817 he removed to Boston, and resumed the practice of his profession with the highest distinction. In 1822 he was elected to a seat in Congress from the city of Boston; and in 1827 was chosen senator of the United States, from Massachusetts. From that period he was seldom out of public life, having been twice Secretary of State, in which office he died. In 1839 he visited England and France, and was received with the greatest distinction in both countries. His works, arranged by his friend, Edward Everett, were published in six volumes, at Boston, in 1851. They bear the impress of a comprehensive intellect and exalted patriotism. He died at Marshfield, surrounded by his friends, October 24th, 1852, in the 71st year of his age. The last words he uttered were, "I still live." Funeral honors were paid to his memory, in the chief cities of the Union, by processions and orations. A marble block, placed in front of his tomb, bears the inscription: "Lord, I BELIEVE, HELP THOU MY UNBELIEF."

J

85. TO THE EVENING WIND.

PIRIT that breathest through my lattice, thou
That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow:
Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,

Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray
And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea!

2. Nor I alone-a thousand bosoms round

Inhale thee in the fullness of delight;
And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the sight.
Go forth, into the gathering shade; go forth,
God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!?
3. Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,

Curls the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
The wide old wood from his majestic rest,

Summoning from the innumerable boughs

The strange, deep harmonies that haunt' his breast:
Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep the grass.

4. Stoop o'er the place of graves, and softly sway
The sighing herbage' by the gleaming stone;
That they who near the church-yard willows stray,
And listen in the deepening gloom, alone,
May think of gentle souls that pass'd away,

Like thy pure breath, into the vast unknown,

Sent forth from heaven among the sons of men,
And gone into the boundless heaven again.

2

Våst. Earth (ẻrth).-' Curl (kêrl).- Håunt. Påss.- Glåss.• Herb' age.

5. The faint old man shall lean his silver head

To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, And dry the moisten'd curls that overspread

His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
And they who stand about the sick man's bed

Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
And softly part his curtains' to allow
Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.

6. Go-but the circle of eternal' change,

Which is the life of nature, shall restōre,
With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
Thee to thy birth-place of the deep once more;
Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange,
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shōre;
And, listening to thy murmur," he shall deem
He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.

W. C. BRYANT.'

86. GIL BLAS AND THE OLD ARCHBISHOP.

Arch. WELL, young man, what is your business with me? Gil Blas. I am the young man whom you: nephew, Don Fernando, was pleased to mention to you.

Arch. Oh! you are the person, then, of whom he spoke so handsomely. I engage you in my service, and consider you a valuable acquisition. From the specimens he showed me of your powers, you must be pretty' well acquainted with the Greek and Latin authors. It is very evident your education has not been neglected. I am satisfied with your handwriting, and still more with your understanding. I thank my nephew, Don Fernando, for having given me such an able young man, whom I consider a rich acquisition. You transcribe so well, you must certainly understand grammar. Tell me, ingenuously, my friend, did you find nothings that shocked you in writing over the hom

2

Curtains (ker' tinz). -2 Burning (bern'ing). — ' Circle (sår′ kl).— E têr' nal.- Murmur (mer' mer).- See Biographical Sketch, p. 118.'Pretty (prit' ty).- Nothing (nůth' ing).

ily I sent you on trial,-some neglect, perhaps, in style, or some improper term?

Gil B. Oh! Sir, I am not learnèd enough to make critical observations; and if I was, I am persuaded the works of your grace would escape my censure.

Arch. Young man, you are disposed to flatter; but tell me, which parts of it did you think most strikingly beautiful.

Gil B. If, where all was excellent, any parts were particularly so, I should say they were the personification of hope, and the description of a good man's death.

Arch. I see you have a delicate knowledge of the truly beautiful. This is what I call having taste and sentiment. Gil Blas,' henceforth give thyself no uneasiness about thy fortune, I will take care of that. I love thee, and as a proof of my affection, I will make thee my confidant: yes, my child, thou shalt be the repository of my most secret thoughts. Listen with attention to what I am going to say. My chief pleasure consists in preaching, and the Lord gives a blessing to my homilies, but J confess my weakness. The honor of being thought a perfect orator has charmed my imagination; my performances are thought equally nervous and delicate; but I would of all things avoid the fault of good authors, who write too long. Wherefore, my dear Gil Blas, one thing that I exact of thy zeal, is, whenever thou shalt perceive my pen smack of old age, and my genius flag, don't fail to advertise' me of it, for I don't trust to my own judgment, which may be seduced by self-love. That observation must proceed from a disin'terested understanding, and I make choice of thine, which I know is good, and am resolved to stand by thy decision.

Gil B. Thank heaven, sir, that time is far off. Besides, a genius like that of your grace, will preserve its vigor much bet ter than any other; or, to speak more justly, will be always the same. I look upon you as another Cardinal Ximines,3 whose

'Gil Blas (zèl blå).--2 Wherefore (whår' for).—3 FRANCIS XIMINES, archbishop of Toledo, confessor to Queen Isabella of Spain, was born in 1437. He received the cardinal's hat in 1507. His chief influence arose from his efforts to reform the Romish Church. He was a great patron of letters, and by his exertions and expenditure produced the earliest edition of a polyglot Bible. He died November 8, 1517.