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And, seeing the wise world's hardest knot
Cut at a stroke with such simple skill,
Older people than Charley, I thought,
Might learn a lesson of Master Will.

AMERICA'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE WORLD.

GULIAN C. VERPLANCK.

hat, it is asked, has this Nation done to repay the world for the benefits we have received from others? Is it nothing for the universal good of mankind to have carried into successful operation a system of self-government-uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion and equality of rights with national power and dignity—such as had before existed only in the Utopian dreams of philosophers? Is it nothing, in moral science, to have anticipated in sober reality numerous plans of reform in civil and criminal jurisprudence, which are but now received as plausible theories by the politicians and economists of Europe? Is it nothing to have been able to call forth, on every emergency, either in war or peace, a body of talents always equal to the difficulty? Is it nothing to have, in less than half a century, exceedingly improved the sciences of political economy, of law and of medicine, with all their auxiliary branches; to have enriched human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of useful facts and observations, and to have augmented the power and the comforts of civilized man by miracles of mechanical invention ? Is it nothing to have given the world examples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of public virtue; of learning, eloquence and valor, never exerted save for some praiseworthy end? It is sufficient to have briefly suggested these considerations; every mind would anticipate me in filling up the details.

No, Land of Liberty! thy children have no cause to blush for thee. What though the arts have reared few monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's footstep is found in the paths of our forests or along the banks of our rivers, yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become one vast temple and hallowed

asylum, sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the persecuted of every sect, and the wretched of all nations. Land of RefugeLand of Benedictions! those prayers still arise, and they still are heard: "May peace be within thy walls and plenteousness within thy palaces!" "May there be no decay, no leading into captivity, and no complaining in thy streets!" "May truth flourish out of the earth, and righteousness look down from Heaven!"

MILKING TIME.

WILL WALLACE HARNEY.

The sun is low and the sky is red;
Over meadows in rick and mow,
And out of the bush grass, overfed,
The cattle are winding slow;

A milky fragrance about them breathes
As they loiter, one by one,

Over the fallow and out of the sheaths

Of the lake grass in the sun.

And hark! in the distance, the cattle-bells,
How musically they steal-

Jo, Redpepper, Brindle, Browny and Barleyırsal

From standing in shadowy pools at noon,
With the water udder deep,

In the sleepy rivers of easy June,
With the skies above asleep-

Just a leaf astir on orange or oak,

And the palm-flower thirsting in halves,
They wait for the sign of the falling smoke,
And the evening bleat of the calves.
And hark! in the distance the cattle-bells,
How musically they steal--

Jo, Redpepper, Brindle, Browny and Barleymeal!

THE TRUE KING.

[Translated from Seneca, by Leigh Hunt.]

'Tis not wealth that makes a King, Nor the purple coloring;

Nor a brow that's bound with gold,

Nor gate on mighty hinges rolled.

The King is he who, void of fear,
Looks abroad with bosom clear,
Who can tread ambition down,
Nor be swayed by smile or frown;
Nor for all the treasure cares

That mine conceals or harvest wears,

Or that golden sands deliver,
Bosomed in a glassy river.

What shall move his placid might?
Not the headlong thunder-light,
Nor all the shapes of slaughter's trade,
With onward lance or fiery blade.
Safe, with wisdom for his crown,
He looks on all things calmly down;
He welcomes Fate when Fate is near,
Nor taints his dying breath with fear.

No-to fear not earthly thing,
This it is that makes the King;
And all of us, whoe'er we be
May carve us out that royalty.

THE TIGER.

WILLIAM BLAKE.

Tiger! tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burned the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire ?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art
Could twist the sinews of thine heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand, and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger! tiger! burning bright

In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

HANNIBAL TO HIS ARMY.

[Abridgment from Livy.]

Here, soldiers, you must either conquer or die! On the right and left two seas enclose you, and you have no ship to fly to for escape. The river Po around you-the Po, larger and more impetuous than the Rhone-the Alps behind, scarcely passed by you when fresh and vigorous, hem you in. Here Fortune has granted you the termination of your labors; here she will bestow a reward worthy of the service you have undergone. All the spoils that Rome has amassed by so many triumphs will be yours. Think not that, in proportion as this war is great in name, the victory will be difficult.

From the Pillars of Hercules, from the ocean, from the remotest limits of the world, over mountains and rivers, you have advanced victorious through the fiercest nations of Gaul and Spain. And with whom are you now to fight? With a raw army, which this very summer was beaten, conquered and surrounded! an army unknown to their leader and he to them! Shall I compare myself, almost born and certainly bred in the tent of my father, that illustrious commander-myself, the conqueror not only of the Alpine Nations but of the Alps themselves-myself, who was the pupil of you all before I became your commander-to this six months general? or shall I compare his army with mine?

On what side soever I turn my eyes I behold all full of courage and strength: a veteran infantry; a most gallant cavalry; you, our allies, most faithful and valiant; you, Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause but the justest anger impels to battle. The valor, the confidence of invaders are ever greater than those of the defensive party. As the assailants in this war, we pour down, with hostile standards, upon Italy. We bring the war. Suffering, injury and indignity fire our minds. First they demanded me, your leader, for punishment; and then all of you, who had laid siege to Saguntum. And, had we been given up, they would have visited us with the severest tortures. Cruel and haughty nation! Everything must be yours, and at your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall have war, with whom peace! You are to shut us up by the boundaries of mountains and rivers, which we must not pass! But you-you are not to observe the limits yourselves have appointed! "Pass not the Iberus!" What next? "Sagun tum is on the Iberus. You must not move a step in any direction!" Is it a small thing that you have deprived us of our most ancient provinces, Sicily and Sardinia? Will you take Spain also? Should we yield Spain, you will cross over into Africa. Will cross, did I say? They have sent the two Consuls of this year, one to Africa, the other to Spain.

Soldiers, there is nothing left to us, in any quarter, but what we can vindicate with our swords. Let those be cowards who have something to look back upon; whom, flying through safe and unmolested roads, their own country will receive. There is a necessity

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