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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmAs A des taux de reduction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, il est filmA d partir de I'engle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 ! t SELECTIONS » PROSE AND POETRY PUBLIC RECITATION IN SCHOOLS, TBOX CANADIA]^ AND ENGLISH SOURCES, ■UNO FAtT Of Tim WO>K ON "TBI •TH'OOI. HOUSE." ITO. EDITED BY J. GEORGE IIODGINS, M.A. nrvTT MrtBiMTiiimnT, TORONTO : ft\nUi for t^t Ptpactmrnt tf PublU Jnitrudion for Vpiitr Canakn, BT :,OTELL AND OIBIOIt ^ 1858. Price 20 et». each: or 81.50 ner doz. 11 SELECTIONS iir PROSE A]N^D POETRY FOB PUBLIC RECITATION IN SCHOOLS, CANADIAN AND ENGLISH SOUECES, BEINO PART OF THE WORK ON "THE SCHOOL HOUSE," ETC. EDITBD. BY AUTnOElIT OP IHE CHIEF SCPEBISTENDEST OP BCCCATIOS FOB CPPEB CA5AD4 BY J. GEORGE HODGINS, M.A. DBPUTT BUPIIIINTINDaNT. TORONTO : yrlntfli (or tit Dfpartmnit of |)ublif 3ii»«ruc«ion for llpptr «anfl>o, BY LOVELL AND 0IB80K, 1858. CI v\ w CI h' ti m ill (li I'i in wl th an au bo frc ral am thi Th and I»RKFAT()RY NOTE. Thk »oIIo„,„s S.l.Ttions nri. re,,riutf,l (Vo.n tl.o Unwr p«rt of "Tmk S, „ool IIovsk; us Arclmrcfun-, Kxi.-nml «u,| I,„,n,Ml Arranu'. uunts" .tc. In thU fonn tia. Mc-ctums ,vili !„• t\,mu[ „,„r. nn.v.ni.ut C.r ..... l.y ,l,os.. pupil. « ho may 1... .vcpurc.l to eo,„„,it n„y of the pim-s to UK.n.ory Cor p..l,lic a.clan.atiou or recitation in the scliools. TJu. .Ic.siKn and ol.ject of nmkina; these Selertioi.s for reeifatio.i i„ the sehooU are stat.Ml i„ the following extract fro... the p.vfato.-v note to tl... wo.k on "The ischool House," to which we liave refer.e.l : "Sefecfions/or School Recifufio.„.--Y\u. feature of the work lias been ad.le.l to meet a want n.neh felt i.i many of the schools. Too fre.p.entiv the master, -anx.ons to j^ive variety ami interest to the ronti.ie .Inties of ,he week, an.l to cultivate a ta.ste tor conect .i-eaki..^ ami recitation.-ha. had ..o choice hnt to select either inappropriate pieces, which ,,ossesse.l no interest for the pnpil, or those «hK-l.. otherwise heantifnl in imagery an,I elo.p.ent in langnnge, embo.lie.l politi- calsentimentsan.lopinions, the very reverse of those which sho.iM In- i.nhil.cil by young Canadians who. otherwise, shonhl be taught to love a.i.l venerate that great latljerland. whose annals are so rich in heroic incident and noble nchievement To aid the teacher in his selectio.i for these exercises, wc have mserted a threefohl series of extracts in prose and verse. In performing this duty we have sought to give a Clanadian and national ca,t to the . ire series \> e have also had in view the various ages and capacities ..f the pu.,i . Short ineccs have been added for the younger pupils; and we have even ventured to lusert. towards the close, a few pieces of poetry designed exclusively for girls, where the mistress of a school may wish lo cultivate the taste of her pupils in this particular. ' " The//-*^ aeries of the extracts is taken entire from various Canadian speeches and addresses, which have appeared from time to time in the Journal of E,l„cution and other papers. The selection would have been more varied had the editor been able to procure additional materials. The names of the chief speakers * from whose addresses extracts are made, and the local interest which natu- rally attaches to the speeches themselves, independent of their intrinsic merit and the torcible and eloquent language em,doye.l. are a sntKcient guarantee that this feature of the work will prove highly attractive and popular in the schools. Ihe editor has to apologise for the insertion, at the close of the first series, of an'd "^^^'^^yvUhLL^^T' ^'- "'• **'"*"'• '^'- "■•• ^»""'"' «""• ^- «• «"^«- "'• "-- It l»RK»ATORV NOTK. two ••xirnrf.i Irom an aililress iiropnn'il l»v liiiiHflf, aiMi-d simply with tin- view fiirtlur III I'liliM the ^vmpafliii'd of the piipiN in thi- pro»ptTity niiil snocpsi of onr nntiiiiml hi-IiooI Hvstcni. "Tilt- geeoiii/ Jierira ronsists of lAtrnctt from ri-ct'iit spci'i-Iirs aii*l adtlresM'S by various stntfuiincii in Kni;liuiil nm! otlit-r prrMonN. " Tlic t/iin/ Mi-rifs inclniii-n ii >.i'lrctio!i of p.tctry which has appcnivd in sncrcssive vohinu-s of the Joiinml of Kifiinifioii. A i\-\\ lulihtiooal pieces iinve Ihtu adiled, as well to ntforil snrticicnt variity nt |.> enihrac- in tin* wh-ction, m far as poHsible, I'Mrai'ts from the stnnihinl poilt in otir Ifingnapi "Tiu" ('(htor aeknowlcdm's many im|iirftTtions in this rompilation, owing to tljc intcrfi'ri-ncc of other dntifH. The work has hy degrees grown upon hit liandit, and lias exeeeded the oriijinnl hmiti nxsigiied tn it ; Imt it was thonght desirable to tnnit nothing materially iitleeting mir sehoid economy ami discipline, which might jirove useful or suggestive either to trustee, teneher, or local superintendent, in the |)ro»eention of the great work in which we are all so deejdy engaged, and on the successful accomplishment of which, under the Divine lilessing, our prosperity and advancenieut as n people so largely ilepend." •lanunry, lb."»H. Pe lew s of by live led, hie, ; to his ght ine, )cnl 10 line CONTENTS. rrofnt<,ry Not- ^^,, P.rt L-Bxtxact. fro. Canadian Sp..oh.. and^A^JaraM^V "' I • I la> Uclii^'ioiig I'linpinle, of our Piil.li.. w„i i o «. n,e DiffuMo,, of E.l>,cHti.,„ in Canmin, byll.o hVv 'd.' M W " i" ' '' 7. SueceM i„ i,. ,,-«l,o,t S..n,..-a P, f ,f T rl ' ,7 ' - 8. Canndinii lV..f.i„.ritv ,. <> . ■ '"""O'eatneM, by tl.osniiu! n; %.,•,..„ . '' "' ^"'"'^""' Orentno... by tbo Kcv. Dr. 13. Y.-uM,. M.u .,f clj ,b H "f '; ''^■•^- ^- ^''"'""'' E^'l- LL.D ,8 ;-.i^...K.„;::";:;?j::-:r-^^^^^ Part n.-BngU.h and Ml.o«Uaneou» Addresae. : i 1.0 Kut iind Pall of N atiuus, by L„rd Job,. Russell „: TI /n I ^'"'^''"' "'^ A"'^'"". l*)' tl.0 Earl of Ca.Ii.lc. o, '. MR iM„m,,hsofknowle.l-,._A.io.,vmotis... „ 8. bcionceaiul Art, byl)r. WaU-ibury" ^^ «. I..br,u ie. anJ Study, by Tbo.nns Davii.K^n." ! ! 1 ." »^ 11. TlieBible, tbcIk>.lofB.,ok8 3* (1) Krorn tbf ]{<)gt(.n ADjflo-Saxon (2) ny tbc Rev. George GilfilUn . ^^ ,0 «•. ^'^^ %"'«• K«>v. Dr. Spring ], ^^ 2. M. touandhu fWry. by the Rev\ Turnbuli::: L' 14. The Memories of Great Mea-Auonymou;.";;;;." f ^ 16. The Memory of the Dead-Anonymous.... '» sa ^ CONTKNTB. 16. ThoSiiiMK'il Demi, l>y Ihe Ilev. Mr. Ilftrbiigli 8' 17. Tlio Sea, the LHr^pHt of all CVinetcTiex— Anonymoiii 87 18. Tliu Full of Ihij Lortf— Aiuinymout 87 19. noiiiitifiil Aiu Mill), l)y Watiliiiigton Irvinff 3* Part ni.— MlBcellaneouB Poetry: 1. Tlio Alum Uivor. by llio Very Rev. I)i- Trench 88 2. Tlif Ko"! Iiicliii Ma.-iMiieies, liy llio unmo 39 I!. The iHlogiiinn of the West— Diildiii UiiiverBity Mii«iizino 40 4. The S|mii'iih Armniltt, hy l>orr.. jr.. Uni AV... ^, , „„ „ „,.„,,„,. ,^ °^ SYSTEM. it m .•oMti.lently evpe.-t....! ui.,1 1.,.,,.. I .1,.,. \ ^ ! " " '"''""'-•^"y >fc..,rumMi,lo,|, .sl.all l,.,-.n. thoro ,1 at he i Vl " w "■' .^'"'^' "''-''»'-""''^"'"- Comn.ou Schools lio has !i hopu lur tiaiisoculiM.. ..■v,.,-. .i ' '■•"'"'ns m heavou; that din, upon ,h.,n a llL^C^lT^l^:^^ ^TT": "V"^ '"?' °'"^''"'"'^' •'^'''- 'I'ltyolMrivin- to prov.- l.vL i ^^ '" l!"'-''r turn rulk-ct uii.l aksoi-b.-tho "'='' "1-u .1.0 broad a^l solM piS ,^ w JT 'i ^ '" T"'" ' ""''-^'-'>'' -> i"Vi.etho minister,, of reli-Mo, f ^ ■ . ^^ ■''"'" "'" """"' '■'"""'='"">., we the people of.h. couu. ■- ta e ZtZr-^u '' ^"'"' ^^'^''""' '""'- ^'^ J "' I't.vt; iiit'ir .iUiiitis ;Lini)o' with i.- *^v\ * r ,- penii^'ur in|).!,liri.rtl,,.m i,, ih„ • """ " '"""^ witn u«. That, so f.ir Irniii ham- b.^J..i^^.ato;ak I Sl^u^irw'" m'"^"^'"'' ""'^"""^- ^"-^ -"^- ofthel^ovinco,thatit 'ives c' L^ l"'. " "* '"'"'"' "^ ^''^" '---""^nt c"-„,, oral. >ioao,„in^;: ,":;: :;^ SaSrs;'^ '"■'^r" ""' "^ ^"""' -^ '^- dischar^reoftheduliesofcivl , " '*'^ ^"-*""^J '" '''eir maturer years to me.'t .n the which is litted so well to nualitV .i If .u '"•'' "'' f'-'ceiv.n- an education that while their h^u a v , T *"' ^'""''"'-"^ °^ ''>''^« ''"P'"-'^'"' ''"t-^, and those truly Chr;^.tian graces J^nutL,"'^^^^^ T'""'" "'"""' ''^"" "'*' 8^"^^'*' "^ e 'ii'-s mutual respect, forbearance and charity. B 10 8KI,ECTI0>b FOR PLBLIC f.- n LORD ELGIN'S VALEDICTORY AT SPENCER WOOD, QUEBEC. For the l:i«t time I nin surnmndud liy a circl' of friciMi- 'vith whom I huvc- spent some of the pleasaiitest hours of my life. For the hist time I weiconie you a< tny jiiiest.T to this clianiiin:: rt'sidenco, wliicli I liave hcoii in the hahit of calling my homo. I ritish coimcction which it has been my earnest endeavor, to the extent of my humble means of inlluence, to implant and to establish among you. III. THE MONARCHICAL PRINCIPLE IN CANADA. Extract ffom the speech of the Jlonorablv Sir John Beverbj Robinson, Bart., Chirf Justice of Upper Canada, at the inauguration of the Normal School — Decctnber, 1852. It is common for us to hear of that £;reat experiment in government in which the vast republic near us is engaged. But in Canada, and other provinces of Hrilish North America, we have an experiment of our own going on, in a smaller way to be sure, but still on a scale that is rapidly expanding — and an experiment of no light interest to our "lorious mother country, or to mankind. V^e occupy a peculiar and somewhat critical position on this continent, and more than we can foresee may probably depend upon the manner in which our descendants may be able to sustain themselves in it. It svill be their part, and it is now ours, to demonstrate that all such freedom of action as is consistent with rational liberty, with public peace, and with individual security, can be enjoyed under a constitutional monarchy as fully as under the purest democracy on earth— to prove that, in proportion as intelligence increases, what is meant by liberty HKCITATION IN SCHOOLS. 11 .» hftu.r mulorston,], an,l what is ^ninclot aiul ,no.t s,,,!.l. i„ ^ov.Mnn.ent .k better ai.|.r.riut,.,l anJ .nore firmly .upporte.l. The t'lorions c,-i,v.r .,f K,mla„,| ai-io,,.. the nat.uns of .ho wo.KI .le.na.uls ..f „. ,l,is tnl,,.,... .0 ,h. t-i.M ,s..UoZ. !u he^hni rabu. o.„s,a,„„„ ; ;, ..h,.„lcl b. our pri.le .0 .sh..v ,h.a f,. n.,„„v..,l as w. an- \Z h.. ,sp|e,„|,.„r. of Jioyahy and ,he indu.-u-os of a Co,„«, „.„„a,d,y . no, bli iv .C . fer.edamongnsfroma st.n.st.l...sa,.a..h„u-n,to an.iqu.m.l pajn. av.. nor re'u u v Ujlora,..,! ron. as.,,., of duty or u dr-a-l of .l.nj.; UuUlJ on tl,o .,n^Xt cho,..h.,l .n , . a,h.c.,ons, and snpp,,,,.! by .ho f,... and .ir„. will „f .„ "^^Z peop..., whose, lovo o.ord..r has be.,. s„v„,tl.enod :. ,h.ir knowl.d... l.l JZ^J -a u.ople who n-,a,d w„h loyal pl-as.,,. ,h. ..bli.a.h.ns of dnty vvhicl. b,nd ] n.\o l.e Crown, and who value thei, ki„,ly f ,-,n of ,overn„.ent ,K,t o„l, be. ' 2^ l> il .,.r ,d> to hu- and propoHy. the steady snppor, wl,ieh il ^nves to the |.,w< -unl the ee„an..y w.,h whieh it ensures ,he actual en,nnu.nt of all that d r ! .i, dignitied with the nanie of frei'dom. rv. PROGRESS or BRITISH AMERICA. {hx/rm-l /mm the coi,cl;shn of Ih, fnrtgoh,si„g upo,. ,he I!,itish pnbbe a due .sense of the impo.-,anJe of the .No,-,h.\n.e,ieanl'rov.nees, an.l of the g.eat in;eres,s which wi,h .surprisi,,.. rapi- dity a,o spr,Uiru.g up w.d.in them, and e!aimin:r iho a„en,iou of ,he mother cvu,„lrv In order ,0 y.ve lorce to his .statemenLs, the writer of this article sneaks of it a/a matter ol surprise, ,hat the n,i,ish Noith A,ne,-ican P,-ovi„ees eontain a.no,,.^ them a population ol no, less than l,70(),0,K) souls; not ima.Wnin:,, th;.t .'an.da ah.ne eon- tained nearly \ry.\(m m .re j,eople than he gave creditor to all Ua.e Piovincs.-I.i all of these e.vlensive Colonies of ,he Uri,ish 0,-own, distinguished as they a,e by a loyal and generous appivciation of their position as a portion of ,he !!ri,ish Empire (he sarne spirit of enterprise is at this niomeut in active emplovment with ,h ■ aid of 'si„. gular advantages, in developing their gieat national resomees. Every ,'nn.r that we can see and feel at the present lime, or can discern in the future, is full o^ euronr- agementlo the farmer, the mechanic, and the labonrer,-and as for the liberal profes- Mons, it IS impossible that they can languish among a prospeions people. The ,nul- tiply.ng calls for in.ellig,.nce in the varieties of employment which are daily inoreas- jng-the vvonderful cheapnr.ss and taeility which improvements in the art of printing have givon m the productio.i of books ami newspapers, a.id the ,puukoned circulation of uuelhgeueo which we derive from liberal poslal arran^enients and the ma-MC wonders of ,ne telegraph, must make the necessity of bein^r able ,0 read and wri,e"so great, and tue desire so nearly universal, tliat the few who may remain without such ins ruction wi I be made to feel the marked i.,feriori:y of their position. And soon it will be literally true that in Upper Canada there will be no excuse for any person en- dewed with ornhiary capacity, being found in a condition so degra.ling ,"0 a freeman, and so unsuitable to an accountable being. Wi,h everything ,0 urge and to tempi them to the acquisition of knowledge, and everything to aid them in obtaining it it will be impossible that the people of Canada can do otherwise than feel that in their case emphatically '^poverty and shame shall be to him that r^meth instruction " 12 8ELEOTION8 FOB PODMC V. CULTIVATION OF THE MO^.M. ANr- INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES, THE TRUE SOURCE OF NATIONAL GREATNESS. {Extract from the ^prcrh of the J/nti. W. II. Iilake, ChamclUir nf the [/nierrsiti/ of Toronto, at the eonvociition — December, 1854.) AVu have a fcrtilo .soil ami a saliibiioii.s climatu, ami \vc live by llio favour of I'rovi- dence under fr('e institution.'!, wliicii secure to u.s tli.ntmost ine.sliinaMu of all i)rivilfi;;o8, civil ami reiii:itration of justice confessecdy more indej endent and impartial than that of the United States The social and mat(?rial advancement of Canada in former years was confessedly slow but compare Its progress for the last ten years in any and every respect with that of any of the neighbouring States from Maine to Michigan, apart from the advantages which some or hem possess as being the sea-ports and thoroughfares for other States, and the results will be honourable to Canada. Cmpare everything progressive in those States which ." ' ;'''lr'""";'"« »^"' which depends upon ho,..e industry and enterprise, and Canada, with all Its faults and short-comin-'s, has much more reason to be proud than to be ashamed. It is true Canadian Uippia.ses have done -nuch to disturb and retard its inte- rests; but this spirit of conspiring against one's country instead of consulting and maintaining Its honour and interests, like an Aristides and a Conon, even in exile, is as alien to the general feeling as it is ho.stilo to the best interests of Canada. But in as far as this spirit exists-this spirit of crying to Hercules instead of helping oneself- Canadian enterprise will he damped, the value of Canadian securities and property will be depreciated, and Canadian progress impeded. In the days of Grecian self- reliance, unity and patriotism, that little peninsula of half the territorial extent of Canada, repelled the most numerous armies recorded in history, and defied a power whose domains extended from the Indus to the .Egean, and from the Euxine to the cataracts of the Nile. Let each Canadian love his country and seek its glory as did the ancient Greeks, during the era when private patriotism and public virtue was inscribed upon their national escutcheon. We have no strife of foreign war-no hostile rivalship of nations;— our warfare is a domestic, bloodless one— a warfare of virtue against vice, of knowledge against ignorance, of self-dependence against foreign dependence, of public spirit against personal littleness, of the love of Canada as ourselves, instead of the lov« of self against Canada; of the digniHed and generous industry of a Cincinnatus, instead ot the selhsh and protean adventures of an Alcibiades. Surely if "The shuddering iciiam of the Frigid Zone Proudly proclaims ihe happiest spot his own j . The naked negro, panting on the line. Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine ;'» all true Canadians can say to the genial land of their birth or adoption, "Our Iwsoms with rapture heat high at thy name. Thy health is our iransporl— our triumph Ihy fame." 10 BELECTI0K8 FOIl PUIIMC ■( 5: THE TRUE ELEMENTS OF SOCIAL ADVANCEMENT IN CANADA. lJ--^tr.r>/r.... an MJrr.. on lf,e Social A.h,.,,nm,„t of Can.lu, l.y the lie.. Hr. li.crson- Oetohrr, isr.i.) It is Tiiy earnest prayer, that iljc " inlt-nml irimr,! " of .1 frnlv ri,- ,■ may be ..lante.l in the hoHrt-cita,].! of every yo'ro our • ,1 U is 1'"" T'"". «n..inte,lec.,.a,,o,.,iti.„hi. iorn an,.^,^.. thJ ^S.,; : '^ rr^--;^ unue c.vdop,,.e,U .hid. constitutes tho hfo and strength, the happin'.s a . , " sK.K.ty. If then we w.sh to see our country acc.nnhsh its high destiny- ,^n boken forests converted into waving wheal .l,!ds-si,„le n.anufuetories growi " i "o prosperous towns, and towns swelling int.. cities-canals and railroads inters^ n^e vanou« districts, and conunereeroverin;-},e rivers and lakes- if we w . ,„ ins,it..ti..ns settled and perfected, and our (iovennnent Adm U L 1, ^Z, " our schools and colleges radiatn.g centres of intellectual ll.ht and n.oral ;r h h" youthful popula.,on-tl,e poor as well as the rich properly e.iucated, and T rich and vnnedho>nel,teratu.ecreated-the experience of past ages giving lessons in a 1 our omes,,.. dwellings by .cans of hooks and libraries ,-i„ I .ord, iAvc^ S t ^ Z p op e of Canada unUed, intelligent, prosperous and happy-great in all that con itute he real grandeur a people-let us feel that the eventful issues of that anticipated utunty are ,n our hands, and that it is for each individual of cur grown-up g 3^ on osayhowfar ,hese hopes of patriotisn. and philantrophy shall'be re aliz' dis" apponued. Above all, let us never forget that there is a n.oral as we as physJ al TJ:T r ' '^ '" '" '"'•""'">• °^"'" '"••' "-' '•- perfections f he in haracter and govern,nent are fully displayed, so it is in the harmonious developn.ent of hc,Ww.th the .,,tellectualn,an that the perfection of his nature consist What Ood has jomcd together we n.ust never put asunder in any of our plans and eiTor fo he soca advance,nent of Canada. Our n.otto should he the words of the "sphS Isa,ah_' T^mlomandl■no^,UJgcshalle the staMify of tfnj ti„.es-tl>e po.ZZof XI. THE GREAT VALUE OP INVENTIONS AND DISCOVERIES. iE.tract/rom an Mdress, hy the Rev. JJr. Larson, on Canadian Mechanics and Manufactures — January, ISvi.) _ Very few of those who have distinguished the...selves as the authors of discoveries inventions and i.nprovements in mechanical science, have enjoyed greater advantages of We and resources, than can be com.nanded by the majority of n.echanics in Upper Canada; and yet what unspeakable beneiits have those hu.uble men conferred upon he human race ! lo select only a few illustrations. Who can conceive the political and socal revolutions which have already resulted from the European discoverer of the magnetic needle,-that sleepless, unerring, faithful little pilot, unblinded by the starless m,dn,ght and unmoved by the raging te..,pest,-whicl. at once relieved' the ma.t J from h,s tim.d creeping from headland to headland, and among its flist feats opened the commerce of India, and guided Columbus to the discovery of a new world -the most important event in the history of modern nations and modern civiliz.Mon. What mind can imagine the results to mankind, in every department of science and knowledge, in veiy aspect of civilization and in every interest of civil freedom and social advancem nt, to e b'Ti't^^^ T "" ''"f «."'-"^- «f 'he Art of Printing,-an art which seem to be but in the mid career of its improvements, and whose magic power appears destined at no remote penod to penetrate yet unexplored regions of humanity, and to transform HECITATION IN SCHOOLS. j» f.irt.,,0 , f (,r.:,t l.nfn , ,„ay almost 1,.. sai,l to : „ow i, an nts ,„ ,;„.,,- .n,llion.s ..f ,,o,.,„l !. ; ,. r ,T ra«- rouon .HanuractMr,,! a,no„„,e.l f, al-o.u lour „,illions of „o n 1 r ' exceeds two l.uM.lr..,! ,„illions! AM.l hv this m.kI v . , ' "'"""" '' ' ""' what ,. ciual ,0 the. ;al,„ur of f.riy n,iilio„s of hu.nan b^i, .^.-tw 1 . T tion-AVatfs inv, nti„„s a,„l i,M,.n;v..n,c„ts in th. stea.n n^i ,0 , ' '"''"'"" vva« expressed by the Southern members of tl,e A.neiiea. r.n > ' *'' ''"''° be grown iu the Southern States provided Jo 1 s . . n , ^ '''' '"' '^"""" "''"-^' a Conneetie. mechan.c ^y the Jiir^lr tS^.^ '^^^ ^^ j;;:-;^, ^""f ^'^'^'^ rat.„. the seed from the tibre-a„ inve„tion ^vhieh^L b , e v iu "of"' ." 7" growing lands in the Southern States wiiil,. it h.= '."'''"f. '"^ ^'''"'-' ^^ ■''1' '^"tton- . brancl. of American commeree and rlTrl, a tte l =""-"" ^"^'"" '^ -"«' i'nP"r.a..t nothing for us to acl" M thl Tl . ' "'' "'" ""' '° '"^1'°^" '^^^ '^"^^" ^•^'"^"'s itself may be b U L L nfen'v ff t t"""'' u "' '"^''""'"'- '^^^^ «team-engine but a sna I's spe d to the Icomnt " T^T' '' '^' ^"''°"^'"'°" °^ ^''« r'^^-"' '"ny be and machinery'of : ; et7at"mt^t T""' '"',''' ™"' '''"''''' •"-"^^°- theittvcntionsand m-tZtPrv „f "''r" ^^'^'^ a« useless in comparison of and powers, now my teH^^^^^^^^^ T"' "^'l ^"'""°"" ^""'''P'-^ --' ^'«--'«. 18 8KI,ECTION8 IdH I'lIlMC fnUiro ii^'cs rank many of 1i«t inwliaiiic sdiis wiili I'lo Walts iind Arkwriglif.s, the Frniikliii.s atul Fultons of past a;,a'.s ! XII DUTIES OF EDUCATED MEN IN CANADA. (AVoMl an AMims at a Conroralwti of Mrdill ('.,!ln/r, Jidji, 185(1, I,;, thr Princijtal, J. W. Dairsiin, I'm/., LL.l),) Every (Hliicalid man slioiiM ciiiliMNor to aiM .«omelliin}: In tli'! oxtciit of hiiinan kiiowlr.l-,' or \vi,-,lmn l.y ori-iiial iiivivsiiMatiuti. Many ni.-ii, amidst llic pressiiro of professional piir.-nits aii>l of narrow eircnm-tanccs, liavc loijiul to aeonmnlale llioso treasures by wliich your own minds have been cnrielied. The wide lields of lileraturo and of ab.slrnet and applied science lie before yon ; seb.'ct some; t'avornhle spot, culti- vate in your leisure moments, and you may hope to repay to those wlio follow yuusomo portion of that debt which you owe to those who have ;joiie before. Further, every educated man should be an educationist. Re^'ard all other I'nlversi- tios a.s kindred institutions, lahoriti;; in the same great cause. Nor should you uei-iect the hiter.'sts of the humbler sources of learning. (Jood common and grammar schools nourish our colleges, and colleges foster the schools; and both united furnish the beat means for the real oh'vation of any people. F,et it be your endeavor to maintain largu and enlightened views on this subject in opposition to tho narrow prejudices which tend to excite division whero there si.ould be the must complete unity of ellort. Every educated man .should also be a man of public spirit, taking a warm mterest in all that lipids to promote the material, social, or political W'.lfare of his country ; and It IS especially your duty to all in your power to develope, in this country, those Hriti.sh political institutions, which, in their hapjiy conibination of security with progress, 80 far excel those of all other ages and tuitions, and which it seems the special province of Canada to work out in their application to lu-w circmnstances and conditions. Lastly, allow me earnestly to nrg(3 a supreme regard to our holy christian faith. It is one of the most lamentable of all spectacles to behold a young man of liberal educa- tion and of respectable abilities, with high hopes and prospects, burying iiil in the mire of intemperance and sensuality ; and it is almost as sad to see smdi a man looking with cold uneoticern on his highest spiritual interests, or joining the scolTer in his ridi- cule of the sacred things which he iloo.s not comprehend. I trust that you, on the other hand, will endeavour to attain to that highest stylo of man, the Christian gentleman, earnest and zealous in every good work, forbearing under provoc^iiion, humble in every position in which he may be placed, cherishing in his heart tho love of his Cod and his Saviour. May God grant that this may bo realiseil in you, and that useful, honoured, and happy lives may conduct you to a glorious imujortality. XUI. YOUNO MEN OP CANADA, THE HOPE OP THE COUNTRY. (From an Address at JIainilton, July, 1856, by the licv. William Ormiston, M.A.) Whiit a large wide happy home is the land we live in ! We have found it a goodly land, and liave uosympnthy with those who love it not ! There is no piety, no genuine Christianity, in the heart of him who does not love his country, native or adopted! He cannot be a true, large, leal-hearted man, who looking through" the vista of coming years, does not hope to see his own country grow greater and more glorious ; and he is no true Canadian who does not cry, in the words emblazoned on my left, " Peace and Prosperity to Canada." There are those around me, doubtless, who sympathise with the poet who Vrrote these lines a few years ago : ntxtTATroN rv schools. li) "Thi'y iiiy ihy lull, nn- Mfiik, Thpy «.iy lliy ^\cm Hre Uirn - llul oil ! 1I117 know 11,11 what r„„U heurn Are nnrliirrd Ihitr, "Si'iillaiidf I Invc ihi'c will, Thy iln»l in drnr In inr - Tliu ilinhiiit Iniid ia vrry liiir, bor dr.rl "" "T.""' r' '"•'""'" "^' '''''"""''" ^ '"«>• •"•. o...'s „a,iv., Ian.l.houM coun, wu lovu a ; „n.l bc-auso w. Ion, i,, w. wish you, youM« ,n..., .0 b., worthy of Hi '1 i^^^^^^^ "" ''V'T'""' •'"J"'"'"-"'' """• --"'• ''•'"■>■ '-' '"'« <""■ """?,' Lb '""'■""•7-""; ''"7 '^^■'"'" -il l->ealh .lu.ir fee., ami thecloar canopy of homc-inanj only a srave, ami on tl.o re8tin^r-,,|a..e ..f those wo nhouM trca.l ILMitly loHig revererico to their ashes, and livi... so as ,0 honor them. With you, 4, . m n' ll iv ^' . ^''''"' '''■^'"''^''^■'''-■'''''■■•"' '^^•^•"'y y^-'"'^'"'- ^-"'"ry shall bo t^ fn nn ": f'" '° """" '■"' """ ^"^' '"'"-'" '" "'" '-"''"y "f --^ti-s H.Kl have not h r";?'"' " <■'"'-'■'■"""« I-"P>^- ; -Lether it shall bee. me u dark spot in the f,eo,..aphy of the world, and. by and by, vanish uitopether; or whethor in- telhgencB and .iidustry .hall place Cana.la in the vanquard of riations. XrV. HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFrECTIOWS. (From an AJdrc.s at Ollava, Jul,,. 1 856, /,,, the Re,,, .l/r. Johnston, of that City ) J r'li 'I 'I'" '"T"'' "f '^'" "■"'^''"''' '"■''• '•^'"- ^'"^--^ '' "■••' «■»'<•"•« »ll tl'at i-. groat and good al that IS no. and refined, all that p«ru,anen.ly ,its n,an for the fuUil.u'n of t ,0 S aff"c i ;,« ''T-T^''' '""' '^ '" """•^^"'" "^ '''-^ '"""«'"'^. -" interwoven wh h>s afreet CMS and his desiros. Other institutions of life may l,u good, but it is the well regua.ed institution of domestic life, and the proper government hn,th mo deeply and permanently afTec.s the welbboing of n.ankind. Where the in t tut 13 u^sh^h r 7 '; v' ""■ "^^ '^^"''^''■^''•"«"' "f P'"''i<^ edueational institutions /or the unsheathed sword of ml tarv nouvr n.i tK.. ^.1 i 1 1 . "., m mu life arc nurifhut l.v ,1, • T , ' """ •"""^' "'^'^'■''' "'° fo"»tain« of moral b! dor! M '. ■^"""'^ ' '"'""'"''"' "' '>'^""'' 'hough other laws of society may be defective, and other institutions either faulty or inoperative-yet like the waters of I partm% polluted, but the stream which continues to flo.v from the fountni-n will wash the defi ement away. Then may we not be permitted to assun.e that among the first and n.ost imperative duties of man. afler the worship he owes to his Maker, I the pro- per cultivation and gover. nient of the domestic affections and relations of life. Happy Happy are the people whose public laws give countenance and support to such teachings Of rehgion. Happy are the people whose rulers set the example of reverence, for such * teachings, and obedience to such la^vs. And truly blest is that nation, where gathered rrfh h rT :T' "^ ''^ "''""' ''"'• '^^ '-•''"^Se.s. are a people who ;evere the pure the hallowed, and the ennobling affections of parentsand children, and all the domes- Uc relations of home." It ,s true, the happiness, prosperity, and strength of a nation spring from those fountains which have thoir sources at the hearthstones of the people H 20 •EliKCTIUNH FOn PUBMC r thesi" s.MureM nre no. (nip to nntnns-if tl.e «irtrti,.nH of .loirusii,- lif,. «r.. not rlu-rished at Ih.s.. (i,..si.l.'s, ih.-n n.iiM that nnlinn t«k.' on ii.n.rinr nink in ronipftrisoi, with othm who^e xoMirrs lljjht for hnnic, thrir nltnrs, nnd tlii-ir flrcsirles. An.l «ho rnn .loiil.t thnt Ihi^ Imppinos of -innnkin.! Ih not I'ssiminllv inlorwovon with th.< .loM.csiic nlUclions. F„ ,.„rli..st chil.lhoo.l ii is s-.-n. That hni-pv litil. pMuip col- Icct.Mi on their plnvpronnd, or nronn.l Ihi'ir toys, whoso joymm luu-li, whoso faces, rmlmnl wnh ili iiu'ht, prove tlint ih. y lin.l ox.piisito pic.siire in their spoif^-cnj )y their rli'RSnrc only while afleclion or kio-lness reBi.lnteN their pin v. An.l if son..- an^ry word Notn.- i-assionate hlow, ii.fli.f pain or fjriof upon the ehil.l, where dot-s he ^o for comfort? -to his mother. In her arms, her loving voice, her fond cnress, her eonsolinK words qui.kly sooth him, nnd before the tenr-dror, haH vanished from his eve, tlie Inst re.n.mnt of nr.ief lias llowe.l froi- his l.renst. Haj.py child to have n mother to lly to-happy mother, whose n>n^Hc can chnrm her MmhriR's L-rief away. And here, amidst this joy. let lis drop one tenr of sorrow over those little ones who have none on enrth whom thfv cnn call father or moth.'r,-wiiose orphan childhood must roceive svmpathv nnd s.iste- •mnce from the hands and hearts of strangers. Yet they have a friend, who hath said, leave thy latherless children to me; I will take care of them." To mich the cyo of I'lty and the hand of atrection should he extended. And, in your hours of piny, l.r..thers. do not think that because vou nro stronper it is tmmnnly to he pentl > to your little brothers nnd sisters. True nobleness of heart nnd true manliness of conduct nre never cou|)led with pride nnd nrroeance. AVhen I see a ynun- man kind nnd respectful to his mother, and genllo and forbearing to his sisters, I think he has :i noble heart. XV. LOYALTY TO THE QUEBN, {ExtrnH from a Speech at Toronto, In 18U. 6y the /Ion. milium Young of X.,va Sc.lia.) <»ur attachment to the Queen, our own Victoria, is mingled with a tenderness not inconsistent with the .sterner sentiment, which it softens and embellishes without ener- vating. Let her legitimate authority as a constitutional Monarch ; let her reputation as a Woman no assailed, and notwithstanding the lamentation of Burko that the a-e of Chivalry was past, thousands of swords would leap from their scabbards to aven-c^cr Ay, and they would bo drawn as freely, and wielded as vigorously and bravely ii^Cana.' da or in Nova Scotia, as in Kngland. Loyalty, love of Uritish Institutions I They aro engrafted in our very nature ; they are part an.l parcel of ourselves ; and I can no more tear them from my heart (even if I would, and lacerate all itsflbres,) than I would sever a limb Iroin mv bodv. XVI. THE UNITED EMPIRE LOYALISTS. (^From the Toronto Globe, December, 1835.) IIow little is known of the "pre-historic annals" of Canada! A belief that there settled on the shores of the great lakes, about the time of the Revolution, a number of men and women distinguished by the name of the American Loyalists, is the sum of the ^ knowledge on the subject possessed by many in Canada. What brought them here whence they came, how they did, what they suffered, are questions seldom asked, and seldoin answered Nor shall we reply to them further than by saying, that these people were .ievoted subjects of the British Crown, who would not and did not join in the war of Independence, but took up arras for the United Empire, and who. when the victorv went with the colonists, refused to abandon their allegiance, suffered the confiscation of all their earthly goods, and went forth, in 1783, to segk a home in the wilderness of IlECITATfON IN SCHOOLS. .jl r»nn.ln. No Ur m'liislur Htaini* thoir wnifpheon. Tt.cv were ni.n «f «•! . miRht I... proud. '|l„v hant.in- nn... ,.,.,.„...„.. of. ,.n.vo„a, .t;:no:;^;!::s:::,n;^:-x ;:;:;: n. .., of „s nn,.c.tors in ,ho Inn.l ..uto thnr honor «„. ,ri..., „« i„ „ ., h ' ! ; «r our |. «,n,. h,.,l...rs T.,.,v arc our honu.. They «orc n.ar.yrs ,o ,h.ir ,.r no 1' Bo i..v,n, th„t a n.on„r. hy wan Letter than , repuMi,-, „n.l shrinking «i,h „ , r ., i ro n a ,sn,en...ernu.n. of the en.pire. .hey .era „il,i„. .«„... ,h,.n lo.o the .,u , thl^. .'.';■'■; :""■""' " ""'I'-^-'^v inj..s,iee. An.l their sin.vri.y .as nu o . the tea.. J hey t.,ok u„ arnw for the kin,.; th,y passecf ,hro„ph ail the .huXrHand horrors o, eivil .,.r ; they ho.e what was wor^e .han .leath it.tlf-.h ha r,, .1 conn ryn.en; an,l when the ha.tle went against the.n. they sou.ht no eon . ,t or aku.K l.e,r tuost sp en.lid possessions, upreare.i the hanner to whieh th. h mv! n a« ty, «n.l, follow, n, wlurc ,t h.,1. went forth to seek, on the then inhospita Me hores of Ontano a nnserahh. shelter, in exchange lor the hon.e fro.n whieh .1 ev w re x M .Nor -Inl hey ever .Iraw haek. The In.lian. the wolf, the fan.in... eouMU "ter , W .ronresolufon; an- (or their allegiance, they en,lure,| a .housan.l .leaths. The ' in every treasure hut Ihe.r honor, nn,| hore all sulllrinKS but those whieh .prinjr fron, self Colorne to have heen a just one. Anm the op.n.ons wh.ch they held seventy years ago, but we can all agree in adndrini ' hejr a tachtnent to the Mother Country, and the patient sincerity lith which thof sufTered for the.r loyalty. Thus we should venerate them. Nor can we believe that the growtng .ntelhgence of the Province will fail to produce some one patriotic enough to ios» rou vniLic ff UM Ui** worM a tale M.|ilishnii;nt. Wellington's renown is undivided. It is the unity of purpose conspicuous in tho lives and deeds of all great men which makes their na'aes stanil out in hold relief through successive generations. Kven in the political history of the United States, the great priiKiiple here stated receives a striking illustration. The founders of llie federal constitution, knowing tlLit the spirit of their own heroic times could not always remain to guard their national liherties, chose out their wisest master builders, and when the editice was reared, they er icied that their own impress should reman, . pon it for ever, or he changed only hy the two-thirds vote of a mighty nation. It is true that tlie permanent eltlciency of our educational system is not held to be of so much importance, as is tho preservation of our political liherties; yet how little is it practically considered, tliat to that efficiency alone, aided hy the inlluence of the Gospel, are we indebted, under Providence, for the very existence of the civil and religious freedom which we enjoy I XVni. OUR EDUCATIONAL FUTURE AND RESPONSIBILITIES. (/'Vom the conclusion of the forrgoing Address.) Ha",' -g sketched our educational history, from its earliest dawn, in 1789, down to the present lime, I can only, from the past, point to the future,— which, with all its solemn grandeur and mystery, lies before us. But no mortal hand can lift the veil .' .t rhrouds it; lor to us that future has been irrevocably sealed. It has been beautilun^ su...;, tiiat the veil which covers the face of futurity has been woven by the hands of aieroy. Oar conjectures of the future can only therefore be founded upon the past, 4I. ! ( .'. hojjCJ and anticipations of that future alono ^brighten when the halo of the past is reflected upon them. We may glance along the history of nations, and survey with a thoughtful eye the mighty coi '.s, the civil commotions, and the fearful up-heavings which have rent these nations abunv' nn'i bive destroyed their power for ever. We can even contemplate their ir.telL.tu •. . u .-caer'^ tnd their unrivalled skill in the arts, but we look in vain for a parallel U: c ■* wi» t'mm. Here "a now spirit stands before " us. As if tired 0. the spirit of vrjr «;■ :ov.^ of conquest, "^ the stately pomp of courts, we see each nation putting forth 2,U o jr (;. :iigy and Btren^th to uplift the masses of the people to the dignity RECITATION IN SCIIOOr.S. 28 01 the .Uyn or,.l„v«l,v nr. unf.M,..! cv.n to tl.c n,,„...i,i.. of ,|.. ..1,,,,, ,1.. I.,; CM,«...<1 ,n cv..,y lan.l, .„.! i„ .....,•>• -. .u..., and .lu , ,of, ur-le.. i.t.iu'.^ .f, . . W Z -.Ml beluro M. . ( r « h.., Iron, ho l,nll.unt « p„.t, ..-.m ...v. r ^j,,,,, ,.,...„ (,, eurH..s,,.,„,||nff ururc/ .Vet ...u. J.„«n the visr,. of hi.tory uc sec the rmo ,.n.I f«l> of mu i n ^ n.. ..y cont..t b.t...M Ii.I.t :., .1 .1.,!..... that ,n „t .xpuin.nt .If tl.. «,.- ! ^ ^vo.vo,«-chavon..v.ry,.t..,uuss,.l. X... shu!i w. ever .cu i.. O. „h, a^ laio ^ .ng ...u counsWh-,, (..», h in .he sphere i„ v. hieh Provi.lenee h.s ,,I:.l, ,.i' , , ; u, ' ' work .n wh,eh .e nre .11 u,«.,e,l. i;.,venUy i.,,,,!-.!,., .h.t '• .i' 1,.,,. a J .i; ,C bleH.s,ngor A„u,h,y.io.l .ouhl uL.n.i,,,,, y . .. .,,..„ „.e e^a-rtions of ,,! cw ,!„ I'Ain' II. KNfiMSII AND. MISCKLLAXKOIS ADDinxsiX I. SCIENCE AND SOCIAL PROORESS. {From ,: Sj.rrrh at Jlhmh,,,/u,m. U, I.sr,5, l,„ Hi, li,uial ]!hh„n, Pn,..-. Ml,.r, ) No >"--' Pu-.its .,.,k,. any u.-na! progress until scle.eo he brought to ..onr n,^n ti.'.m. ^ c ^^■>.^,. seen. ar. or,li„;:ly, ut., y of then, slunj.er (or cc:,lM,ies • hut |V u> \Z n.o,,,ent th.t s.enco ha« touched the. .ith her „,a,ie wand, .hey nave l^H^Zl^ nd take.. . r„le. which an.ax. .„d alm.s- a.e the beholder. l.U at , . l^n^i^f t.on wh,ch has gene on aro,.„d us s.n.e the laws of .ravita.ion, electrici ta", d tt ex pans.ve ,ower of heat have beeon.e known to ...s, It has al,:.red o,.r wh tZ ex!,>tenc<.-one nught say the whole fact- oi the glohc! We owe this in Ji f scie..o alone ; and .he ha. other treasures in sto^ ,. u, U Zl'lZ^Zlo Z . ..stance. It . sou.tin.es o.^ected by the ignorant, ,hut science i. une m^Z by others, as a proo that the present knowledge n.ay be also uusonnd, and, e, I no worth hav.ng. But they a.o not aw.-ue that while they think to cast ban up n scence, they besto., in lact, the highest p.aise ..pon her. For that is precisel the iif erence between seience a,.d prejudice : that the latter keep« st.d.ho... y to ,^p , '' hethe d.sproven or not ; while the fonner is an unarrested „,ove.nent owa.-d thTfoun n .™ , ^^ ■ """ '■" '"■■ •^'""'^"'"i"t'S ''"t, on the eontrarv, the highest mem of D..,ne truth, a pleas«.-c not even intelligible to the pri.ie of ignorance Wo sohea,, not u, frequently, science and practice-scientific knowledge" a IcJnn. L a..d must be so, as .he sees and knows what she is doino ; while me.-e common .TaS |.s condemned to wo,.k in the da,k-applyi.,g naf.ral ingenuity to unZrpower? to obtam a known re.>lt. far be it from n,e to undervalue the'creative power og„ us or to teach shrewd co.nmon sense as worthless without knowledge. But nobod \Sl t" ,' me that the same genius would not take an incomparably higher flight if support dwih all the „.eans which knowledge can i.upart-or that com'mo sensed oe n^C ': n 24 SKLECTI0N3 TOR fact, only truly powerful when in possession of the materials upon which judgment is to be (■x<.rciscd. The study of the laws by which the Almighty governs the universe is therefore, our bcunden duty. These laws are most important branches of lvno« lo(ige— their siu.ly trains and elevates the mind. Rut they arc not the only ones: there are others which we cannot disregard-wiiich wc cannot do without. There are, for instance the laws governing the human mind and its relation to the Divine Spirit— ilie subject of lo-ic and metaphysifis. There are those which govern our bodilv nature and its connec- tion Willi the sou!-the subject of idiysiology and psychology". More which govern human society and the relations between man and man— the subjects of politics, juris- prudence, politij.ij economy, and many others. While of the laws just mentioned, 'some have been recognised as essentials of education in difreient institutions; and snui'e will in the course of time, more fully a>seit their right to recognition. The laws regulatin ' matter and form are those which will constitute the chief oljecls of vour pursui"s;' and as the principle of sub-division of labor is the one most cnngeni'd 'to our age, I would advise you to keep to this specially, and to follow, with undivided attention, di'iefly the sciences of mechanics, physics, and chemistry, and the fine arts in painting, s.idpturc and architecture. But these Divine laws an- capable of being discovered ardTindiTst lod' and of being taught and made our own. This is (he task of science ; and while science discovers and teaches these laws, art teaches their application. No pursuit is, therefore too insignificant not to be capable of becoming the subject both of a science and an art' The fine arts-as far as they relate to painting and sculpture, which are sometimes con^ founded with art in general-rest on the application of the laws of Ibrm ann a Speech at Manchester, in 1856, b, the Riyh, Honorable Viscount Palnerston.) The intellectual qualities as well as the moral fp,.lln^, ^e broadcast over the faoe of the earth WeflZh ! ""'"''' """ ^''""^"'^ in the highest. Their devlon Im J f ^l ''"''^''^''''^ '" '"^^ '««'«' classes as their cuUure and i7i!.o hi T "^^ °" '''" "f'P°'"^""'''"^« ^'^^'^ <"■« "tr-^red for ^^^:^::::'^:^::^;::^^ r '"^'--^ -^ road to wealth and to honors is open to all S me ^f h. . '' 'T"'''''' '^' the most distinguished situationrh ! ^ """""^ "' ^^''" '^''^^ filleJ raised themselves heiatnanrilTon 1 I" l'/ '""""' ^°^'"°"' ''"'^ ^^^ r:atnre-tho moral and the iSect 'l ^ Both co K . !" ," 'r'^"''' "'"' ' ^""^'"^ his n>oral enjoyments are indep^enr "of « ^ .t" Zt^ S^T^^'^' srr;^eL:;rr::;r:r^r^r"^^^^^ and with a still furthr' development hev t k'^'i^ "h'"^ 'T °' ""'''''' '"' "'" P'''""^^''^-. Those pleasures are witL trrTa 'oT ^'mVn^^^U ^'"'^"'^^"P^- to enable him to enjoy that hannino?= v, i! ' ''" "'^ '"''" "''''^■^ assistance intellectual qualitie do tout a "" T'"'.' '" ,''^ "^"^'" "^^ '"^ ''«-«-«. ^is leJge is powl. and a ure% hot Irald tri.f ^ "^ '' '' ''''' *""' '^"°- -w,e.ge. even to a ^^^^ ^^Z:^ :!:^;:z::::^ 26 SELECTIONS FOB w but aJso to their innocent and laudnble enjoyments. We have often heard quoted the words of one of our grent ])oi-ts, tliat « ' A little learninfi; is adRncOToiis tliin?, Drink doop or taste not the Vierian Spring-" 1 hold that this is a mistake. The more knowled^'e a man has the better, but if his time and thf means at his disposal do not permit of his acquiring deep and accurate know- ledge, let him have as much as he can, and, dcjiend upon it, he will be all the better for it ; for, although he may not be able to drink deeply of that spring, if his lips have once tasted of it he will go back to the same delicious waters whenever ho has an opportunity, and his draughts, be they great or small, will refresh his fancy, invigorate his intellect,' raise him in the scale of civilization, contribute to his individual happiness, and make him' a more useful and honorable member of society. Of all sciences the mechanism of the universe is that of which a man who has a little leisure at his disposal may most easily obtain an insight by the knowledge of those facts which are the result of deep study and careful calculatio-i. An ignorant man believes that his country is the only one in the world, that this planet is the only great portion of creation, that the sun is placed in the firmament merely to warm lum, the moon to light him home, and the stars to amuse him on the journey, but when he is led into the secrets of that vast universe, the contempla- tion of which fills the mind with awe, hh Views become liberal and enllghtontd. his mind is raised above the ordinary grovelling ideas of life, and he tinjs himself a supe- rior being to what he had been before. It is clear, therefore, that institutions which promote such desirable objects are eminently deserving of the support of the people. They tend to bring together the different classes of society, combir,iiig them in the bonds of good fellowship, allaying their jealousies, mitigating their asperities, and causing them to work together in harmonious action for the genteral benefit of the commonwealth. IV. PRACTICAL VALUE OF A COMPLETE AND RATIONAL EDUCATION. (From a Speech at Oldham, in 1856, by the Right Honorable Lord Stanlty.) It seems to me — that the foundation of a complete and rational education lies in the knowledge of natural laws, as deduced from recorded facts ; a knowledge, first of those laws by which the inorganic world is governed— as those which regulate astronomical, geological, and chemical existences— a branch which includes physiology in all its depart- ments; lastly, a knowledge of that which, for want of a more recognised term, I must call sociology, embracing the investigation of social problems, and enabling us to trace the paths along which human action has moved in all countriKs and ages. I may be asked what man, unless solely and professedly a philosopher, can find leisure for such inquiries ? I reply, it is not necessary to be an astronomer, a geologist, a chemist, a physiologist, in order to learn what have been the principal results of human thought in those departments, or what is their inter-connexion one with another. The slow progress of discovery affords no measure of the time required to appreciate the results of discovery. It takes agps to make the road which when made, may be travelled over in a few years. If iiiterrcated as to the use of such investigations, I would point out that the two great questions which an intelligent mind, on beginning to reflect, naturally puts are these, " What am I ? " and " What is this universe around me ? " To give an answer, however partial and incomplete to these queries, has been the effort of tha human intellect during more than 3,000 years, and may be for 3,000 more. No man is so dull that they do not interest him ; none ever has been, or ever can be so acute that they do not perplex and baffle him. In addition ao such reflections, we should not forget the practical applications of science, for in these l-fcbi i.h- UUHMsttid SCHOOL BECITATIONS. 27 eject ...h u is ii.e„ .0 pj.ee on Hf^T'riri ^ itr t iite;:;^;:^ th.ng, practice another, yet I do believe (to take one instance of manv\ th.t f ' i a little .ore about the air they breathe, and the water he^ S h^^ wZd I""' aawng of .any lives now destroyed or shortened by deficient sLI Ur^rr "gern's So' £";; '"^" ""'^^■■■^'°°'» ^"" '^^ '■"-•tions of the brain, there would beTwer deathi from overwork, from mental excitement, or even from intemperance GencrH K 1 i I believe, that for one person who breaks a physical law with a J:^- c W „ "^^^^^^^ to ^f '"! ■^-'^"r'"^. ^''''' ^^ - <'-"? an-' foreseeing the consequences- here e 100 who break these laws n sheer ignorance, and whon. a little knowled J on c^d cautious. So again, when I said just now that it seemed to me nnmturil Jould be held to be fully educated, who knew no, the first ei:;:;;; f ^ •;::" did not, and do not suppose, that law should be studied by a layman as it is by ^1™ _But_evory man, though it may never happen to him to have to set foot within a cou oi justice, has something to do with evidence : it is surely of use to everv oTto know "hen an improba e tale is told him in a matter which concerns his interes , wht Ir chanees of that talc being true or false; and in works which treat of e ide e h e Chances are m..nutely analysed, and the cftlleetive results of many men's exper „ce brought to bear on the subject. Again, dealing with another branch of socia s ic C I may venture to say even here, that if the first rules of political economy had been a 1 tie be er understood, both by governments and communities, the worst sufferings wh ch a e C ■ r TT ':Tf''T'''''"'''' ^'°"''' "^ •'^^'^ -'f-i"fl'-cted, some of th m the faults of others) might have been avoided, or to a great extent diminished. Human Action the End of AU Teaching. tha^tbT. ""^ i" ' ^°"'^' ' "T '^''~'^'' •''^ ^"^ '^^ ^" human teaching is human acti.u • hat that teaching is most valuable which tends to direct and oconomiz.ra.tir tl. u h teaching must concern itself mainly with two thin<.s-the law. »I,i'8 lOH r the Ai^'suitiiinoii or ihi (lidipus; ns wlaii St. Pfiul ttood on ihf lo|)iii(,st stono of 3 on hill of Mills, and %\hilc suniniit ubovc and plain below bristled with icols, pro'jlaiinid, with the words of a power to which I'ericlcs eould never have atluimd, the eounsel of tho true God. Let nil' just remark, that even the iiiij)res.8i\e deeliiratioii of the Apostle, that "God dwclleth not in teii.pks nmde with hands," nia^' setni to grow in eflett when we renitniber that the buildings to which he must have almost inevitably pointed at that ver}' moment were the most perfect that the hands of man have ever n ared, and must have comprised the Thescum below and the Parthenon above him. It seems to have been well thai "an and niiin's device" should bo reduced to their proper level, on th^' very spot of their highest divelopmeiil and gloij. Il is w'lu.liy fanciful to think, that, in presence of St. Paul, on this spot of the Areopagus, something of allowance as well as of rebuke was convevcd to the surrounding associations of tho scene? The direct and immediate object of his appearance and address here, was undoubtedly to annul the false sanctities of the place, to extinguish c\ery altar, strip ('vipy shrine, and dethrone every idol. This object has been achieved with entire success. AVhatever may Ihivc been substituted in the interval, we njay feel a lea.sonable eontidence that on tlie rock of the Acropolis pag!Uii.• *= •.•«Pe'i«™.^.l .n,,„ of VII. THE TRIUMPHS OF KNOWLEDGE .e..p,„c.j ,■„,„■,„.,,, .„,,,„,,„;, ,u,.„;s;:,t:ii j'-rrrrs Kno«le,lj;„„|,„„,.,i|,5 „„„j ,, |,,„„,,„.j thccrin- .orU I. F '=""""'• o jcc. .,„ „ i,, ,.,„,„ ;„. .,„„„ „ .rz; '1. ,;;;".';,• ;;; : bT; :;;' rzj ",;:."" :" "•" ■■;"'"""' """"• ■"»•■" ■■■■ •■"»'"* 80 SELECTIONS FOR triuiiiphs of nrt and literature, and the wars and conquests with which history groans, may all be crowded into our life's volume. The experience of a day becomes the ex- perience of an age, and almost gives to man the attributes of omnipresence. From the wandering Homer, who sang as never man sang before, up to Shakspeare — the bard of all time— and down to Hyrun, Burns, and Moore, \vc can .sit and hold communion with every brilliant spirit, whose corruscations dazzle the earth. Nor docs the desirability of know- ledge rest here. It awakens our sympathies, and by enlarging our desires, it multiplies thcm.^ It enables the possessor to command, within himself, all that is commendable and attractive to the eye of mankind. It brings him in contact with society, and adorns him in robes more costly than hand can weave, or skill invent. It is his passport, his com- panion, his counsellor; and, what is seldom met with in this world, it is his unfaiUng, un- flinching, uncompromising friend. Knowledge! the ability to acquire it is the one great gift of God to man. It is the channel through which He makes himself known to us. The High and Mighty One is the source of all knowledge. Knowledge is the bulwark of our country. It is the basis of her government, the source of her glory, and the prop of her institutions. The most illustrious men ol this and other ages sprung from the hum- bler classes of mankind, and genius does for them what wealth and station cannot do for others. Knowledge is essential to enable us to know ourselves, to understand the rela- tive dependencies of men upon their feUow-rr n, to guard against cunning, intrigue and sophistry, and to teach us how to appreciate the government of that Divine Agent whose arm encircleth the Universe. It is, likewise, necessary in business ; for unless the head go with the hand, vrheels may move, hammers may fall, and spades wear bright in vain. Man was made for knowledge. His erect figure, his penetrating eye, and his organs of speech, all proclaim it. There are patriots who bear the brand and the sword, and patriots in name and speech ; but the truest and best of patriotism is that which looks to the mental^and moral, as well as the physical conditions of a country, anu which de- sires, above all other things, the cultivation of that intellect with which God has endow- ed its people. — Anonymoui. Vin. SCIENCB AND ART. .\rt is the application of science to useful purposes. Science is the head to conceive, — art the arm to execute. They are, together, in emblems, as sisters. Science is the elder, and it is her province to lead art, the younger. Science assumes that she is less liable to stumble, and claims that art should follow. Yet it must be confessed, that the great romp often gets ahead, and frequently finds shorter and more eligible routes in which her elder sister is glad to travel. Yet they love each other, and their path is the same, and their journey is ever onward. Around them the forest falls, and the rays of the sun come in upon the bosom of the earth. Cottages spring up, and flowers blossom. The neigh- boring woods echo to the ring of the anvil and the noise of the saw-mill, for the wild wood stream is dammed and throbs like a great artery with a flutter-wheel tor a heart. Together, they have done wonders. They have timed the arrows of light, and have split the sun- beam into rainbows. They have marked out paths on the restless ocean, and measured its tides. They have stolen from the moon the secret of her motion, and betrayed the mystery of her eclipses. It is as though they had hung a pendulum to the clock- work of the universe, and registered its motions upor. the dial. — Dr. Waterlury. CC. LIBRARIES AND STUDY. Beside a library, how poor are all the other greatest deeds of man— his constitution, brigade, factory, man-of-war, cathedral — how poor is everything in comparison ! Look SCHOOL EECIXATIONS. 81 at that wall of motley calf-skiii, open those slip, of inked raen during three thousand'years are ac ultcd a, 'e, "v ot I .TT' ''*"'^"' conventional sign3-24 (ina'ic) letters-ca . 11, „! , ' T ''^° """ ''"" " <''=^ f^om the Argolt. to tL l^T^m:L:'::Zr:Z 71 Pl^TT mythology of Egypt and the lyrics of Burns. Young readers lusesttln . I X. THE POETRY OF THE STEAM ENGINE. There is, to our own thinking, something awfully grand in the contemplation of a vast steam engine. Stand amidst its ponderous beams and bars whooT „n 7 a 1 «atchtheirunceasingplay,howUu.arandhowpowtfS^';ir :L:fot n It strength. Old gothic cathedrals are solemn places, presenting solemn lessons ontilT lf:7td.7^ ' T-r '"''': "" ^"^'"^ ^''°'" '""> ^'--h a more s ri u : Tverixddffi r "' "'"l""^ "' ''^ -'"-"'-<1 triumphing elem ts '- A^f h "~"" T""'"^ ''" ''"'' supremacy-" intellect battling with thf elements And how exquisitely complete is every detail I-how subordinate every part owards the one great end! how every little bar and screw fit and work tl'the ^Va, as IS the machine let a bolt be but the tenth part of an inch too long or too" h 'and the whole fabric is disorganized. It is one complete piece of harmonyLan iron e ay upon umty of design and execution. There is deep poetry in the steam engine "n re of poe'r; of motion than in the bound of the antelope-more of the poetry of power than ^n tS da h the ca araet. And ought it not to be a lesson to those who-laugh a nov tils and put no faith in curiosities, to consider that this complex fabric, this triumph of art' and science, was once the laughing stock of jeering thousands, and o e oZL work ing phantasy of a boy's mind as he sat, and in seeming idlenLs watched a 1 ttle eoTumn Of vapour rise from the spout of a tea \^ett\e.-mumi^ated Magazine XI. THE BIBLE THE BEST OP BOOKS. (JFrom the Boston Anglo-Saxon.) [No. 1.] A nation would, indeed, be truly blessed, if it were governed by no other laws than those of his bessed book; it is so complete a system that nothing can b a did oU orakmg,andarule.forasubject; it gives instruction and counsel to the senate au^ Sa"! n'TT'"'^' •' cautions a witness, requires an imi^rt 've^- th hou eS' "d r r ''"^"'^^ "''' ^'^ "'"•^"°«- '■ '^'^ "^^ »^-bani as lord of to manate t; f , 7 ' "' ""'"■''' °^ '''' table-tells him how to rule, and her how Last r lo IVJ I '°'''"^"' '^' '"'"^ '^ '^' '•"'^'•' ""d the authority of the master; commands the subjects to honor, and the servants to obey ; and promLs the blessing and protection of the Almighty, to all that walk by its ru' s. It give d r« 32 8£L£CTI0NS FOB tions for wciMinRS, at.d for burials. It promises food and raiment, and limits the use of both. It points out a faithful and eternal guardian to the departing husband and fath- er,— tells him with whom to leave his fatherless chiUlrtn, and in whom his widow is to trust, — and promises a father • > the former, and husband to the latter. It teaches a man how to set his house in order, and how to make hi.s wil'; it appoints a dowry for his wife, and entails the right of the first-born, and shows how the younger branches shall bo left. It defends the right of all — and reveals vengeance to every defaulter, over-rencher, and oppressor. It is the first book, — the best book,— and the oldest book in the world. It contains the choicest matter, — gives the best instruction; affords the greatest pleasure and satisfaction ever was enjoyed. It contains the best laws, and the most profound mysteries that ever were penned; it brings the best tidings, and aflbrda the best of comfort, to the inquiring and disconsolate. It exhibits life and immortality from evei lusting, and shows the way to glcry. It is a brief recital of all that is past, and a certain prediction of all that is to ^ome. It settles all matters in debate, resolves all doubts, and cases the mind and conscience of all their scruples. It reveal? 'he only living and true God, and shows the way to him ; and sets aside all other gods, and describes the vanity of them, and of all that trust in such : in short, it is ;. book of laws, to show right and wrong ; a book of wisdom, that condenms all folly, and makes the fooli? h wise ;■ a book of truth, that detects all lies and confutes all errors ; and a book of life, that shows the way from everlasting death. It is the most compendious book in the world — the most authentic, and the most entertaining history that ever was published. It con- tains the most ancient antiquities, strange cvants, wonderful occuirences, heroic deeds, unparallelled wars ; it describes the celestial, terrestrial, and internal worlds, and the origin of the angelic myriads, human tribes, and devilish legions. It will instruct the accomplished mechanic, and the most profound artist. It teaches the best rhetorician, and exercises every power of the most skilllul arithmetician; puzzles the wisest anatom- ist, and exercises the nicest critic. It corrects the vain philosopher, and confutes the unwise astronomer. It exposes the subtle sophist, and mid\cs diviners mad. It is a complete code of laws — a perfect body of divinity — an unequalled nwrative — a book of lives — a book of travels, and a book of voyages. It is the best covenant that ever was agreed on — the best'deed that ever was sealed — the best evidence that ever was produced — the best will that ever was made. To understand it, is to be wise indeed ; to be ignorant of it, is to be destitute of wisdom. It is the king's bes' copy, the magistrate's best rule, the housewife's best guide, the servant's best directory, and the young'man'a best companion; it is the schoolboy's best book, and the learned man's masterpiece. It contains a choice grammar for a i.ovice, and a profound mystery for a sage. It is the ignorant man's dictionary, and the wise man's directory. It affords knowledge of witty inventions for the humorous, and dark sayings for the grave ; and it is its own interpre* ter. It encourages the vi-ise, the warrior, the swift, and the overcomer ; and promises an eternal reward to the excellent, the conquerer, the winner, and the prevalent. And that which crowns all, is, that the Author is without partiality, and without hypocrisy, "/n. tchom is ho variableness or shadow of turning." [No. 2.] {From a Speech at London, 1848, by the Rev. Oeorge GilfiUan.) The Bible is not a scientific work ; it does not profess or display any scientiSc me- thods ; but it could not be remarked with too much attention, that no passage contained therein, as properly interpreted, was found to contradict any principle of scientific truth. It had been subjected to the fire of the closest investigation, a fire which had contemp- SCHOOL EECITATI0N8. 88 tuously burnt up the cosmogrnpl.y of the Shastre, the abBurditics of (he Koran and other fr»r , rK'°'rr.°^^"'""^= other l,ook«. like the planet., nhone with reflected earth, that book books can.e.ro„. heaven on high; other books appealed to he un- derstanding or feehnps. that book to conscience and faith: other bookn solie.te their atten, on, hat book demanded it. for it "spoke with authority ami not as t e o ite " Other books would ghde gracefully along the earth, or onwards to the n.ounta n mmit he3l:;bol at'T-' •''" :"^— <^--" "P the awful aby^w^chTdt .bnu \h '.u"" '""*-'" '""'■ ^^■«^">'. ""glH Pnisl, in llatnes fiercer than those wh.ch consumed the Alexandrian library ; that book should ren.ain. pu c as g TI ytunconsumable as asbestos, in the flan.es of a ,eneral conflagration/ O.Lr hook, ;:ra„a'::ttstr:ftr^^^ " Witliin that awful volume lies, The mystery of tiiysteries. Happy the man <.i human race, To whom our God l.as ^'rnntcd grace, To nsk. to ?eck, to hope, to pray. To lift the liitch, and liud the way. But better liad be not been born. Who rends to ddubt, or reads to scorn." [No. 3.] {^.tract/rom ike Omoations of U,e WorUl to tke BU,U, Ly U. J^a: Dr. ^pri.rj, of K.., York.) JrW'T- i '" '"^ "'""''^' '" ""^ language, in any ago, that can be com- pared wah Ins. From one page of this wonderful voln.ne, mo., nl. • be ac uired Zn reason or phdosophy could acciuire by patience and the t^il of cen uries. T e C ble expands the mmd, exalts the faculties, developes the powers of ;the wi 1 and o fee^ ni urn,shes a more just estiuKUe of the true di,„ity of man, and opens mo e u ^ sff ntellectual and sprruual enjoyment, than any other book. Science and literal ,11^0 tak n deep root on tins consecrated soil. No book furnishes so many imp , bts to the human mmd; g.ves so many clues to intelleclua! discovery, and ha somanv charms m so many departments of hun.an inquiry. In whatever paths of scienro' walks of human knowledge we tread, there is scarcely a science or pursuit of paramoun ^vantage to mankmd wluch may either trace its origin to the Bible, or to which the upon an oral and wrUten language-upon history and literature-upon laws and govern- ment-upon em 1 and rehg.ous liberty-npon the social institutions-upon moral science and the moral v.rtues-upon the holiness which fits men for heaven and the pe uHar A happmess they enjoy .n the present world-or uponjthe agency ind power by whic Aese des.mble results are secured; we shall be at no loss to see that the iorldt which we hve .s under everlasting obligations to a supernatural revelation. Wordsworth, m one of his beautiful sonnets on the translation of the Scripture, says : "But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book, In dusty sequestration wi'apt too long, 34, SELECTIONS FOB AHoumcs tbe aoceuts of our native tongue ; And lie wlio guides the ploiigli or wield-, the crook, With understanding spirit now may hiok Upon her records listen to her song, And sirt her laws— nineh wondering thiit the wrong Which fiiith has suft'ered, heaven could calmly brook. Transcendant boon !— noblest that earthly king Ever bestowed to oqiialize and bless, Under tbe weight of mortal wrctcbcdneBs." XII. MILTON AND HIS POETRY. His principal characteristic is majesty. In .Milton's character and work is consummat- eil the union of human learning and divine ]..vu. Hero, as in an old world cathedral, Illumined by the .setting sun, and resounding hallelujahs, blends the most perfect devo- tiou with the most perfect art. All is grand, and beautiful, and holy. In the "Para- diso Lost,'' you come into contact with thoughts which sweep the whole compass of letters, and tlie fresh fields of nature made lustrous by the fine frenzy of tiie poet ; here also, and more especially, you come into comact with " thoughts which wander through eternity." You trace his daring flight, not simply through the realms of primeval glory, but of chacs and elder night. You follow the track of his burning wing through the hollow abyss, " whose soil is fiery marl," whose roof is one vast floor of lurid light, and whose oceans are " Hoods of sweltering flame." You mingle, shuddering with infernal hosts, or listen with rapture to the far-olf choiring of cherubim and seraphim, the glorious mingling of sweet sounds <' from harp, lute, ard dulcimer." You stand on the dismal verge of Pandemonium, with its dusky swarms of fallen spirits, glimmerin<' through the shadows, "thick as the leaves in Vallambrosa," see borne ..nonits burning marl or sailing through the gloomy atmosphere, that form of angel ruined, vast, shadowy, and terrible, which, when it moves causes the abyss to shudder. You gaze with asto- nishment and awe upon the starry domes, which rise, " like an exhalation," from the fiery depths, and tremble at the shout of defiance from the the multitudinous army, as It rings through those lurid halls. Or, rising oppressed with the splendour and woe of the infernal regions, you pass, with the gentle poet, into the fragrance of Paradise, bathe your eyes in celestial dews, wander with heavenly guests through the melodious groves and " amaranthine bowers" of Eden, quaffing immortal draughts from cool foun- tains, soothed by the song of early birds, and finding rest unutterable beneath the shadow of the tree of life ; or, it may be, holding converse high, on some "serener mount," with angelic forms, or with that noblest pair, whose innocence and beauty are fresh as the young dews which glisten upon the flowers of Eden, You catch the spirit of that high Christian seer, gaze through the long vista of time, behold the wonders of Calvary, man redeemed, and the gates of glory thronged with rejoicing myriads.— i?«). a, Turnhull in Christian Review. Xin. THE UNION OF RELIGION, SCIENCE AND LITERATURE, IN THE CHARACTER OF EMINENT LAYMEN. {From a Speech in London, in 1848, Ay the Rev. George Giljillan.) I need not now allude to the many eminent divines who have excelled in works of science and literature, though they have been numerous, because their testimony might be considered interested and worthless, however high their authority might otherwise be. SCHOOL nEClTATIONS. 3S ■JL 7 " T'^". '" '"-■ ^■"'"'''^"^'^ '" ""^h « ''g'". '^"« it in far .nftrtondcluco nstancos of anot ut ku.,1 t.. wl.ich no such objection could be ,„ndo. When illustrious bjmc. c,u„o .rtl. tVon. thdr labora.ori... observatories, or ,u.i„.i„« ..,„„, ., , ^^ de lured d>s,„,ct. dehberutc, and eloquent witness i„ behal.of ChriMlan ,rut!,, it was as i» the prophet were again helping the wonmn. The thunder of a lios.uet, a Hall, or ,8 th! slilT' "T,""' '"'". • '!' ''"'''"' "'^ ""' '^'"^ "" ''^'"^ '" ''"■ ^""- "'' flnistianity, Cow / , 'T , '"'' '"'"'"'''"' '■'■"'" ""-• *""^'^'' "^ ^"^•'' '"'■" "« "^'>'f. Addison, Ganiell ?'■ ' • ■'"■ '■"''''• '■"'""'• "'"•"•' "*■ ""■^'">' ""'- "" "'-■•-Je. Michlel ! ^"'■^•V'f' "''" '■"■'' "•""^""'■'' ""-• ""'1' "*■"-' ''^y' ^^«^ " <-''-i^'i""- ^r ea 7. '' ' '' *'"'"•''■ ''''" ""''' ''"""^^'-''^ '"'* «"""g «""' °» «-«..Vas-thc arch he t'whf " "'"' TT?'" ''" •^"■■'"" '■<>""'P'-'- ■•'"" ".arl>Ic,-,he greatest AngclowasaChnstian, and some of his sonnets written in his old age breathed the p rest sp,nt of Cristian faith and Christian love. And need he speak of I, M t C .di 'n, ;'r ^'^'' TT "' '"r "' '''' '""' °' ""^ ""■^^' "".I ...rlnkled the water tl ot" ; t '■"■'"^ f • "■ f '^■" "'■ ^'"''- " '■"■"•" ''^^ "^'^-1. -'>)• f'c brought forward hose names .' A\ as .t that he held then, to be the pillars of Christianity ? No.-Chri,- tianity stood on her own foundations, on her own simplieuy, beauty, purity ;^rand u or,gn.ahty, and adaptation to the wants and cireun,stanL of'^en. , s"l,'™ e uot' the pillars, they were merely the decorations of her temple Xrv. THE MEMORIES CF GREAT MEN. What a wo|,derful and beautiful thing is the giJ>, of .enius! llow it enshrines its 5.osscssors ,n the n ncls and .ncn.orics of men 1 IIow it creates a home for itclf i ". I ow Its .n crests and sympathies go on circling and widening, like the ripples n..,und the stone cast .nto the water, till they become as "household words" or "old .mi lia. f es " in all tongues and all lands ! How it grows-never older, but ever young , 2 uy Tes e daT TTI """ ''"^■"'^"^' '° ""^ ^^""^''°" °'" ^-'^ay. than' to' the p s t f jeste day ! 1 eau.y has power, and it, also, is a gift fron. Heave., ; but it passeth awav and ,ts place .s known no more; for who treasures the defaced and vacan e^ k or the flower of the .norning. when it lies on the cold ground ? The easel of the pairte ;«" the ch sel of the sculptor, .nay preserve the lineaments of loveliness, but only "a 'sight to the eyes, no onger as a voice to the heart. Riches, too, have power, but they ha e also obhged to flee from them, they leave no memories, they create no sympathies Rank is b^^t'buT t e\"' °' ""' ''"' ^""'^'-^ "'''' '' ''''' ''^ "---^ ^'- -^ jewel ed brow, but the t.me soon co.nes when no voice sounds. No power emanates f om the cr.mo„ pall atjd ^cutcheoned tomb. How different is genius frotn all these ! True i has .ts waywardness, its follies, its eccentricities; but these are lost in. or perhaps olv enhanced by the charm of its truth, its earnestness, its humility. Yes, geniusTs true h IB a reahty ; .t has truth to inculcate, and work to do, were it only to brf, g dow n a sl^e beauty, or a power of vision to closed hearts and fil.ny eyes Genius is earnest fl rto"" ot :ut"rr:r;' ^^"'^'^'^^ '"'''- ^"™'"^' ^^'^-d uXs^iv^m nower to flower ; but, like the bee, it perceives, and earnestly extracts use with the fZT: 7 " "''" ''''''''' «^^'"S into brightness and into beauty which canno emulate, .t for ever sees its own littleness, its own darkness, its «wr> deformUy and s .rlk from occupyng the pedestal assigned to it by its day and generation. course the 30 8EI,ECTI0!TH FOU q.mlit). s form the gol.lon rolling of the ronl perr,, fre.h from the depth, „f the ocnn or the. rec-c-ss.s .,f the luine. lor never d.. they surround the mock jewel, erea.cd out of 'the du.t and . r,H,.I of the worl.l. It in not, however, to the fuHllIed thoM,-htH, «„,| norls and wo.kH ,.« .-r,., t n.en-.t is not to their h«n,e nud their fan.e ti.rooKhout the land-it i» not to thcw,.rnc Bhowered upon then, in the hnll« of the trowne,!, nnd the ei,v!e» of the benut.fui-th»t our hearts turn with the d.epe.t understanding- nnd nympathv. \o it is to the.r homes and their hearths, to their j„ys mul their sorrows, Yon.ler are th- nails wh.eh hnN-e looked down upon the nudnight vigil and noondav InnKuor. V„nder is the wnidow whence the eye, ^Mzinn up to the henvens, has eanght "sonu-thing of their inspira- t.on. Lo, here the board whieh has echoed to Jie sweet sounds of household j...^ and homely tenderness. Lo, there the ^leepless couch, wluTe the Mdferings of li(,, if ...t ...ore bravely borne, have been more deeply felt, than by other mvu]~Ano„>/moui,. XV. THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD ( Fruiii Siiliiilfiir ilic Si>/i/nri/,J JZl^'^'T '• "'■ r'"'"'^'."'"""; '^""' •' ''■'"" " '"^'>' 'h-R it i.^ in the lunnan heart. and what a charnung.nfluenee .t Hhed.s upon hnn,an life ! ll,.w it subdues all the harsh- ness that grows up w.th.n us in the .1 ,ily iutenoursc with the world I How it n.elts our .mkn,dnes.. so tens our pride, kindles our deepest love, nnd tasks our highest aspirationB- h there one who has not son.e loved frien.l gone into the eternal world, and on,, whoni H- -leligl.ts to hye aga.n in n.en.ory ? I),,,., ho not love to sit down in the hu>hed a.ui nuu.ud home ot ex,stenee, and call around hin. .he tiece. the form, so fannllar, and cer. ,..,„ ..„k u,to the eye that nurre.red. not more clearly his own face, than the soul which he loves-to listen to the tones which he loved to listen to, the t.uu s which «;ere once n.e ody n, hi.s ear, and have eeho,.d softly in his ear since thev were hushea to hissen.ses.^ Is there a spirit to whieh heaven is not brought nearer, by holding some k.ndre.l souls ? I (ow fri.nd follow.s friend into the happy elwelling place of the dc^.d tTll wc nd at length, that those who loved us on the heav'n'y shore a'rJ more tht t le w dwell amon,, us! ...very year witnesses the departure of some one whom we kne'w and loveel; auel when we recall the names of all who have been d.^ar to us in life, how n, ny of them we see pas.^ed H,to that city whieh is im,,erishable. Ihe blessed dea 1 • how free fromsm ,s our love (or then! The e-arthly taint of our affections is buried with tha wluch was corruptible, and the divine in its purity ilhnniiies our breast. We have now no fear «t losing them. They are iixed for us eternally in the mansions prepared for our re.un,on. ^,o shall find them waiting for u, in their garments of beaut . 't . g iou deadi bow rever..,mally we speak their names. Our hearts arc «anctifie.':l by their vTrd which we remember. Ile.w wise they have now grown in the limitless fields of truth ' How joyous they have now become by the undying fountain e.f pleasure ! The immortal d ad how unchanging ,s their love for us ! How tenderly they look down on us, and L^nnTl P' '"T"! u'"" '^""'^"' ''"" ""'"•"'"^ •''^•>' ''^-^' 'he evils of our lives. L t m talk pleasantly of the dead, as those who no longer suffer and are tried, as those Tr \ 11° r^^"" "''■' "''""«• '"' '"'^'^ *='"-^P''d ""'^ ^''-'-•'^d the real, u'i.h them he fear and the longings, the hope and the terror, and the pain are past ; the fruitie^n of has be^gun How unkind, that when we put away their bodies, we should cea e the utterance o. their names The tender-hearted dead, who struggle so in parting from s - why should we speak of them in awe, and remember them onlv with sighin-? Very dear were they when hand clasped hand, and heart responded to 'heart. Why are thev less dear wheiUhey have grown worthy of a higher love than ours, and their perfected "souls might receive even our adoration! By their hearthside and graveside, in solitude and amid the mnlt.tude. think cheerfully and speak lovingly of the dead. JSCUO';., UKCI.ATlONa. ♦7 XVI THE SAINTED DEAD. "1 on u.r,l.. tlu.v l.V upon .,„r lu^rts rl inr ik tV f " "I "" "'"' "^ .rea...-iovin« on.-.he minted clcnd!-^,,...,,,, /^Il:;, C^^^U:' "^' ""' XVII. THE SEA. THE LARGEST OF ALL CEMETERIES BTO. .»,i Iho ,„,.«, ih. rl,l, „„l ,1,, „„,„; ,„„, i„ „,„ ,„"„ „''""" '"'"■" '^" cow,, „„,,„„ „„ ,,,. „,„,, „ ,:, „„„,„„^,„:r T,';:': ,":::;;:: : 'Ill-Ill,, ^a.ne ref)mcni l.y the minstrelsy of -h- ocean is sun- to fl„.ir I '^""^ '^^" their re.nmns the sa.no .torn, hent., nn, the ...,„. s nn . ;,u" I d t i 7 vveak and the power.^.!. the phuned'nnd the unhonour.^: ^l T 'Z;;;^: Sf .he sa.ue tru„,p when tho son .ill give up its dead.-^,;„;Ll.' "'"*■■' '^' XVm. THE FALL OF THE LEAF. Autumn tinges the forest, and tho deepening green fades into brown. The .lantin^ nn ,s,nk.. sooner to its hed ; the rains aro steadier and less hopeful of a break • IZtZ day hko that of agmg man is graver. The wind is harsher-it beats and tears 'the tr petal rots and ,s food for the seed of the bud; the corn is gathered to fecVthe rf e7a! urv.ves many generations of corn and seeds beyond it. own .nortali y Ma ^ tne e hese transtfons with s.ddencd senses by an informed faith, spans the dark oh mb t«een summer and summer, and borrows for the drear season Iho light of futur "ears Other creatures d.e; he is gifted .i(h the sad knowle.lge that he dies, hut he is ah o to ZTrlck't Tl 'r'"' '°^""" "^^ '''' '•^^- ^'^-^ '^^ ■-^- crept o.:' the I c If tb d' T ^°^° 1° '''''''' '''' ^°™ '"''''' ""^J '^<^ -'- "f -•«" breaks the silence of the desert to sing the story of the world ; that long story which be^n 38 SELECTIONS rOB To the informed soul of man the fall of the leaf speaks not only of a resurrection, but teaches him how decay is but a process of regeneration ; destruction is the first half of improvement. When living nature has attained perfection in one type, it will not tolerate less, but each stage is made complete, and then the creature perfected after its kind, gives place to new perfection. As forests fall that more stately forests may rise, so human states fall that greater states may rise. Persia and Egypt sank into the tomb on which Greece built her temple ; Rome propagated the civilization planted by Greece, and modern Europe rises on the ruins of Rome. Revolutions are but the fall of the leaf. Poland has rotted in the soil of Europe ; but the Emperor sitting at 'Warsaw can no more forbid the unborn nation, than the vulture perched ujion the fallen oak trunk can forbid the oak which is growing beneath his feet. XIX. BEAUTIFUL AUTUMN. Ttie sere and yellow leaf reminds us that another autumn is at hand. There is no subject in nature more beautiful to the contemplative mind than Autumn. When we go back in memory to the gay flowers of the vernal fields, the green foliage of the moun- tains, hills and valleys, and contemplate their beauty, their glory, their freshness, their grandeur and subliinitj', we think of but youth and happiness. But when we see the ruddy hue of declining Summer deepening into the rich robe of Autumn — gathering like the pall of death upon all nature — we are reminded in her own emphatic language, that we, like the " leaves that fall in wintry weather," must ere long, as they are nipped by the autumnal frost, be cut down by the strong arm of death, and gathered to the tomb of silence. It is the time for the mother to vi.sit the lonely grave of her departed love, and weep over it the bright tear of sorrow — for the friend, the acquaintance, and the relative — to think of those who have closed their eyes forever upon the vanities of earth, and lie sleeping among the silent dead. At such a period the mind enters into untold enjoyment. There is a sweetness even in the deepest melancholy, which flows to the heart, touching every tendril with emotions of alTection, sympathy and love. It is the time to abstract our th' ights from things perishable— to turn from the ephemeral charms of earth, the more sublime beauties which lie beyond the gr.ave — to learn from the sober realities around us, that our days will have an autumn, that we cannot expect while here "our bright summer always," though we may look forrt-ard to a time when the bloom of an eternal Spring will be known forever; where streams of happiness flow in tranquil beauty from a fountain which time cannot affect.— WasJdngton Irving. PART TIL POETRY. I. THE ALMA RIVER. (By the Very Rev Richard Chenevix Trench, D.D.) Though till now ungraced in story, scant although thy waters be, Alma, roll those waters proudly, roll them proudly to the sea I Yesterday unnamed, unhonoured, but to wanderiug Tartar known, Now thou art a voice forever, to the world's four corners blown. In two nations' annals written, thou art now a deathless name, And a star forever shining in their firmament of fame. SCHOOL KECITATIOXS. Many a great and ancient river, crowned with city, trnvor, and slirlne, Little 8trcumlet, knows no magic, has no iioteucy like tliine ; Cannot shed the light thou sheddest around many a livinr' head, Qannot lend the light thou lendcst to the memories of the dead • Yea, nor, all unsoothed their sorrow, who can, proudly mourning, say,— When the first strong burst of anguish shall have wept itself uwav,— " He hath paes'd from us, the loved one ; but ho sleeps with them ti'iat died " By the Alma, at the winning of that terrible hillside," Yes, and in the days far onward, when we all are cold as those Who beneath thy vines and willows on their hero-beds pose, Thou, on England's banners blazoned with the frmous fields of old, Shalt, where other fields are winning, wave above the brave and bold • And our sons iniborn shall nerve them for some great deed to be done ' By that twentieth of September, when Alma's heights were won. Oh ! thou river, dear forever to the gallant, to the free. Alma, roll thy waters proudly, roll them proudly to the sea 1 IN ALMAM FLUVIUM VIOTOEIA CRUE.NTIA A. D. XII. CAL. OCTOU. A. S. .MDCCCLIV. NOBILITATCM. Mater es. Alma, necis ; partre sed sanguine nostro, Pacis tu nutrix, Almaque Mater eris. 89 n. THE BAST INDIAN MASSACRES. The fearful scenes now being enacted in the East Indies by the cowardly and muti- nous Sepoys forcibly recal the tragic events connected with the conquest of the Pun- jaub. The following touching and beautiful poem by the Very Rev. Richard Chenevix Trench, D.D., on the murder at Moollan of two British officers, Anderson and Agnew is singularly and painfully appropriate at the present time. ° ' The gallant xMajor Edwardes' narrative of the tragedy states that, " havin;laud owns beside us many a son. "They may slay us ; in our places multitudes will here be found, Strong to hurl this guilty city, with its n urdcrers to the ground. Yea, who stone by stone would tear it from its deep fouudations strong, Kather than to leave unpunished, them that wrought this treacherous wrong. Jther words they changed between them, which none else could understand, Accents of our native English, brothers grasping hand in hand. So they died, the gallant hearted ! so from earth their spirits past. Uttering words of lofty comfort, each to each, unto the last; And we heard, but little heeded their true spirits far away, All of wrong and coward outrage, heaped on tlie unfeeling clay. Lo ! a few short moons have vanished, and the promised ones appear, England's pledged and promised thousands, England's umltitudes are here. Flame around the blood-stained ramparts swiftest messengers of death. Girdling with a fiery girdle, blasting with a fiery breath ; Ceasing not, till choked with corpses low is laid the murderers' hold, And in his last lair the tiger toils of righteous wrath enfold. Well, oh well — ye have not fail'd them who on England's truth relied. Who on England's name and honor did in that dread hour confide : Now one last dear duty render to the faithful and the brave, What they left of earth behind them rescuing for a worthier grave. Oh then, bear them, hosts of England, up the broad and sloping breach Of this torn and shattered city till their resting place they reach. In the costly cashmeres folded, on the ramparts' topmost crown. In tlie place of foremost honor, lay these noble relics down ! m. THE ISLESMEN OF THB WEST. [From the Dublin University Magazitie.] There is mustering on the Danube's banks such as Earth ne'er saw before, Though bIi' may rifle where she may her glory-page of yore ; The bravest of her children, proud Europe stands to-day, All battle-harnessed for the strife, and panting for the fray. No jewelled robe is round her flung, no glove is on her hand, But visor down and clasped in steel, her gauntlet grasps the brand ; Oh 1 lordly is the greeting as she rises from her rest, And summons to the front of fight the Islesmeu of the West. SCHOOL EECITATIOKS. No braver on this earth of ours, no matter where you go, Then they whose boast was aye to bear the battle's sternest blow- No braver tlian that gallant host, who wait with hearte of fire ' To bridle with an iron bit the Muscovite's desire. -Ho! gallant hearts, remember well the glories of the past, And answer with your island shout th« Russian's trumpet-blast- Ho I gallant hearts, together stand, and who shall dare molest ' The bristling hem of battle's robe, the Islesmen of the West i ' Brave are the chivalry of France as ever reined a steed Or wrung from out the jaws of death some bold heroic deed • A hundred fields have proved it well from Neva to the Po ' When kings have knelt to kiss the hand that smote their souls with wo And worthy are the sons to-day of that old Titan breed Who spoke in thunders to the Earth that glory was their creed - Ay, worthy are the sons of France, in valour's lap oaress'd ' • To-night beside their foes of old, the Islesmen of the West.' Oh, England ! in your proudest time you ne'er saw such a sight, As when you flung your gauntlet down to battle for the ric-ht • What are the Scindian plains to us, the wild Caflfrarian kloof ' That glory may be bought too dear that brings a world's reproof J The brightest deed of giory is to help the poor and weak, And shield from the oppressor's grasp the lowly and the meek ; And that thou'lt do— for never yet you raised your lion crest, But victory has blest your sons, the Islesmen of the West. Who are those haughty Islesmen now who hold the keys of earth And plant beside the Crescent moon the banner of their birth » ' Who are those scarlet ranks that pass the Frenchman and the Turk With lightsome step and gladsome hearts, like reapers to their work t The sons of Merry England they, reared in her fertile lands From Michael's Mount to stout Carlisle, from Thames to Me'rsey's sands • From every corner of. the isle where valour was the guest. That cradled in the freeman's shield the Islesmen of the West. The stormers of the breach pass on, the daring sons of Eire, Light-hearted in the bayonet-strife as in the country fair ; ' " The mountaineer who woke the lark on Tipperary's hills. And he who kiss'd his sweetheart last by Shannoa's silver rills. The " Rangers" of our western land who own that battle-shout That brings the « Fag-an-bealag" blow, and seals the carnage rout- Those septs of our old Celtic land, who stand with death abreast ' And prove how glorious is the fame of Islesmen of the West. ' The tartan plaid and waving plume, the bare and brawny knee, Whose proudest bend is when it kneels to front an enemy ; The pulse of battle beating fast in every pibroch swell— ' Oh, God assoilize them who hear their highland battle yelL Those Campbell and those Gordon men, who fight for " auld lang syne " And bring old Scotland's broadsword through the proudest battle line'; You have done it oft before, old hearts, when fronted by the best, And Where's the serf to-day dare stand those Islesmen of the West! .41 42 BEMOTiOKS roa Speak ! from your bristling sides, ye ships, as Nelson spolte before— Speak I whilst the world is waiting for your thunder-burst of yore ; Speak ! whilst your Islesmen stand before each hot and smoking gun, That rends the granite from the front of forts that mu?t be won. Unroll that grand old ocean flag above the smoke of fight, And let each broadside thunder well the Talesmen's battle might ; Roll out, ye drums, oue glory peal, 'tis Liberty's behest, That summons to the front of fight the Islesmen of the West t rv. THE SPANISH ARMADA. BY LORD JIACAULAT. Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise, I sing of the thrice famous deeds, she wrought in ancient days, "When that great fleet invincible, against her bore, in vain, The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts in Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer's day, There came a gallant merchant ship, full sail to Plymouth bay ; The crew had seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny'e isle. At earliest twilight, on the waves, lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace ; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase. Forthwith a guard, at every gun, was placed along the wall ; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecombe's lofty hall ; Many a light fishing bark put out, to pry along the coast; And wiih loose rein, and bloody spur, rode inland many a post. With hit white hair, unbonnetted, the stout old sheriff comes; h l'.ind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the drums. The yeomen, round the market cross, make clear an ample space, For there behoves him to set up the standard of her grace : And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow, upon the laboring wind, the royal blazon swells. Look bow the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown. And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down ! So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield : So glared he when, at Agincourt, in wrath he turned to bay. And crushed and torn, beneath his claws, the princely hunters lay. Ho ! strike the flagstaff deep, sir knight 1 ho ! scatter flowers, fair maids 1 Ho, gunners 1 fire a loud salute I ho, gallants 1 draw your blades I Thou sun, shine on her joyously 1 ye breezes, waft her wide I Our glorious sentper cadem I the banner of our pride I The fresh'ning breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold — The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold. Night sunk upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea ; Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford bay. That time of slumber was as bright, as busy as the day ; For swift to east, and sVift to west, the warning radiance spread- High on St. Michael's Mount it shone— it shone on Beachy Head. } SCHOOL EECITATIOirS. 48 Far o'er the deep the Spaniard saw, aloug each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of firo, The fisher loft his skitf to rock on Tamer's glittering waves, The rugged miners poured to war, from Mi-ndip'a sunless caves : O'er Longlent's towers, o'er Cranboiirnc'a oaks, the fiery herald flew— He roused the shepherds of Stonelienu;e — the rangers of Beaulieu. Right sharp and quiek the bells rang out, all night, from Bristol town And, ero the day, three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down, Tlie sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night. And saw, o'erhanging Richmond Ilill, that streak of blood-red light. The bugle's note, and cannon's roar, the deathlike silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke ; At once, on all her stately gates, arose the answering fires ; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires ; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear, And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer. And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet. And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each rousing street : And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in ; And eastward straight, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went ; And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent : Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth ; High on black Hampstead'a swarthy moor, they started for the north ; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still; All night from tower to tower they sprang, all night from hill to hill ; Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Derwent's rocky dales; Till, like volcanoes, flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales ; Till twf! .e fail counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height; Till streamed in crimson, on the wind, the Wrekin's crest of light. Till broad and fiei'ce the star came forth, on Ely's stately fane, And town and hamlev. rose in arras, o'er all the boundless plain: Till Belvoir's lordly towers the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on, o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burnt on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle. V. THE DESTRTTCTION OF SENNACHERIB'S HOST AT JERUSALEM. BT LORD BtBON. "The Lord sent an angel, which out off all the mighty men of valour, and the leaders and captains in the oamp of the king of Assyria : so he returned with shame of face to his own land.''— 2 Chronicle uxii. 81. The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars en the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green, That host, with their banners, at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn hath blown. That bos', on the morrow, lay withered and strewn. 44 BEXECTTOira TOB For, the angel of death spread his -wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe aa he passed : And the eyes of the sleepers wased deadly and chill, And their hearts but once beared, and for ever grew still t And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping Liy white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the roek-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on liis mail i The teats were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblo-wn. And the •widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsraote by the' sword. Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord 1 VI. FALLEN IS THT THRONE, O ISRAEL f BT TnOUAS MOOBE. h M Fall'n is thy throne, Israel 1 Silence is o'er thy plains ; Thy dwellings all lie desolate, Thy children weep in ebaing. Wliere are the dews that fed thee On Ethr.m's barren shore I That fire from heaven which led thee- Now lights thy path no more. Lord ! thou didst love Jerusalem — Once she was all thine own : Her love tby fairest heritage, Her power thy glory's throne. Till evil came, and blighted Thy long-loved olive tree ; And Salem's shrines were lighted For other goda than thee. Then sank the star of Solyma, Then pass'd her glory's day, Like heath that, in the -wilderness,. The wild -wind whirls away. Silent and waste hw bowers, Where once the mighty trod. And sunk those guilty towers, Where Baal reign'd as God. " Go," said the Lord, " Ye Conquerors t Steep in her blood yo-ur swords, And ra«e to earth her battlements. For they are not the Lord's. Till Zion's mournful daughter O'er kindred bones thall tread, And Hinnom's vale of slaughter Sliall hide but half her dead." But soon shall other pictur'd scene» In brighter vision rise, When Zion's sun shall sevenfold shine On all her mourners' eyes : And on her mountains beauteous stand The messengers of peace ; " Salvation by the Lord's right hand," They shout and never ceasa. r t' Vn. JACOB'S DREAM. •T THX RKT. OEOKGX C&01.Y, LLJ). Tlie sun was sinking on the meantain zone That guards thy vales of beauty, Palestine I And lovely from ihe desert rose the moon, Yet lingering on the horison's purple line. ....-.-A. BCHOOIi BECITATIONS" Like a pure spirit o'er its earthly shrine. Up Padannrara's heiglit abrupt and bare A pilgrim toii'd, and oft on day's decline Look'd pale, then paused for eve's delicious air, The summit gain'd, he knelt, and breathed his evening prayer. He spread his cloak and slumber'd— darkness fell Upon the twilight hills ; a sudden sound Of silver trumpets o er him seem'd to swell ; Clouds heavy with tLj tempest gather'd round ; Tet was the whirlwind in its caverns bound ; Still deeper roll'd the darkness from on high, Gigantic volume upon voluaie wound, Above, a pillar shooting to the sky, Below, a mighty sea, that spread incessantly. Voices are heard— a choir of golden strings, Low winds, whose breath is loaded with the rose ; Then chariot-wheels— the nearer rush of wings; Pale lightning round the dark pavilion glows. It thunders— the resplendent gates unclose-. Far as the eye can glance, on height o'er height. Rise fiery waving wings, and star-crown'd brows. Millions on millions, brighter and more bright. Till all Is lost in one Supreme, uumingled light But, two beside the sleeping pilgrim stand. Like cherub-kings, with lifted, mighty plume, Fix'd, suD-bright eyes, and looks of high command : They tell the patriarch of his glorious doom ; Father of countless myriads that shall come, Sweeping the land like billows of the sea. Bright as the stars of heaven from twilight's gloom, Till he is given whom angels long to see, And Israel's splendid line is crown'd with Deity. *5 ■vul the christian mariner's hymn. BT OABOLIKE SOUTH BT. Launch thy bark, mariner! Christian, God Speed thee t Let loose the rudder-bands!- good angels lead thee I Set thy sails warily ; tempests will come ; Steer tuy course steadily 1 Christifin, steer homel Look to the weather-bow, breakers are round thee 1 Let fall the plummet now— shallows may ground thee. Reef in the fore-sail there » hold the helm fast 1 So— let the vessel ware I there swept the blast. What of the night, watchman f What of the night t " Cloudy— all quiet— no land yet— all's right." Be wakeful, be vigilant ! — danger may be At an fcour when all seemetb securest to thee. 46 SELEOTlOirs FOB How I gains the leak so foat ? Clenn nut the liolj— Hoist up Ihy merchandise— henre out thy gold There — let the inguts go ! — bow the chip rights ; Hurrah I the hiirboui-'s ncnr — lo, the red lights t Slacken not sail yet at Inlet or island ; Straight for the beooon steer — stiiiight for the high land ; Crowd all thy canvas on, cut through the foam — Christian I cast anchor now — Heaven is tuy uoue ! IZ. WOLSEY'S FALLEN GREATNESS. DY WILLIAM SIIAKSPEAUE, I Cromwell*, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Crom- well ; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no men- tion Of me more must be heard of, — say, I thought Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hute thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace. To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not ; Let all the ends, thouaim'etat,be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O, Cromwell, Thou fall'st .■\ ble«sed Murtyr. Serve the king : thee ; Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory.j And, — Pr'y thee, lead me u And sounded all the depths and shoala of| There, take an inventory of all I have, honour, — To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, Found thee a way out of his wreck, to rise in ;! And my integrity to heaven, is all A sure and safe one, tliougli thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruiu'd me, Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ? I dare now call my own. O, Cromwell, Crom- well, Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king, he would not in mine ago Have left me naked to mine eutimies. X. THE POWER OF MUSIC. BY WILLIAM Howsweet the moon-light sleeps upon tLis bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold ; There's not the smallest orb, which thou be hold'st. But in his motion like an angel sings, Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubiras : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. We are never]merry when we hear sweet music. The reason is our spirits are attentive : For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unbandled colts, SUAKSFEABE, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood ; If they but hear perchance a trumpet souni'. Or any air of music touch their ears. You shall perceive them make a mutual stand. Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music : Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage. But music for the time doth change his nature : The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds. Is fit for treasons, stratngems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his afleclions dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted. Sir Thomas Cromwell. SCHOOL BECITATIOHS. 47 ZI. THE HAPFV MAN. BY WILLIAM Pli'-TKB. He i8 the linppj- man, whose life e'en now Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ; Who, doomed to an obsciii'e but tranquil state, Is pleased with it, and, wore he free to choose, TVould make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the frui! Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, Prepare for happiness ; bespeak him one Content indeed to sojourn while he must Below the skies, but having there his home. The world o'erlooks him in her busy search Of objects, more illustrious in her view ; And, occupied as earnestly as she. Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world- She scorns his pleasures, fur she knows them not; He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vaiu. He cannot skim the ground like summer birds Pursuing gilded flies, and such he deems Ilcr lionours, her emoluments, her joys. Therefore in contemplation is his bliss. Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from earth She makes familiar with a world unseen, And shows him glories yet to be revealed. ZIL THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. BY WILLIAM THOM. When a' it er bairuies are hush'd to their Iwme, By aunty, or cousin, or freeky grand-dame, Wha stands last an' lanely, an' sairly forfairn ? 'lis the pure dowie laddie — the mitherless bairn! The mitherless bairnie creeps to his lan^ bed, Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head ; His wee hackit heclies are hard as tht aim. An' lithless the lair o' the mitherless ba>.-n. Aneath his cauld brow, sicoan dreams hover there, O' hands that wont kindly to kaimhis dark hair! But momin' brings clutches, a' reckless au'stern. That lo'e na the looks o' the mitherless bairn I The sister wha sang o'er his softly rock'd bed, Now rests in the mools where their mammie is laid ; While the father toils sair his wee bannock to earn. An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. Her spirit that pass'd in yon hour of his birth, Still watches his lane lorn wand'rings on earth. Recording in heaven the blessings they earn, Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn I Ohl speak him ua harshly — he trembles the while. He bends to your bidding, ho blesses your smile : — III their dark hour o' anguish, the heartless shall learn. That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn I Zm. OLD LETTERS ! OH THEN SPARE THEM ! {From the N. Y. Albion.) Old letters I Oh then spare them— they are priceless for their age I I love— Oh how 1 love to see each yellow time-stained page I They tell of joys that are no more, of hopes that long have fled j Old letters ! Oh then spare them— they are sacred to the deadl They tell of times— of happy times— in years long, long gone by. Of dear ones who have ceased to live but in the memory ; They picture many a bright, bright scene, in sunny days of yore. Old letters 1 Oh then spare them, for they are a priceless store. Old am I too, and grey-hair'd now— deserted and alone. And all of those I once could call ray friends, alas I are gone ; Yet oft at midnight's stilly hour, in solitude's retreat. With each one in bis silent tomb, I hold communion sweet. u SXI.ZCTIOHS FOB Old letters I here is one— the hand of youth is on it« face; Ah 1 that was from a brother young in some fur foreign place j A sailor boy, beloved by all, frank, opeu-hearted, brave— Cold, col i and lonesome is hh rest beneath the Atlantic ware. Oh ! ye are now the only links that bind us to the past ; Sweet, sweet memorials of the days too happy fur to last ; The tear-drop fills again the eye whence tears had nlmo»t fled. Old letters I ye ore precious ! ye are sacred to the dead I 1 1 i ^!i ZTV. HOMB. BT JAUI8 UONTOOMSar. There is a land, of every land the pride, Belov'd by heaven, o'er all the world beside ; "Where brighter snns dispense serener light, And milder moons enipuradiae the uight ; A land of beauty, virtue, valonr, truth, Time-tutored age, and love exalted youth ; The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores. Views not a retlm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. In every elimc the magnet of hia soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; Nor in this land of Leaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race. There is a spot of earth, supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While in his softeu'd looks benignly blend, The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend ; Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow path of life; In the clear heav'n of her delightful eye An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet. And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth," be found f Art thou a roan ? a patriot ? look around ; Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam. That land thy country, and that spot thy home. XV. THE IRISH MAIDEN'S SONG. BT BXBNABD BABTON. ■A'\ Though Scotia's lofty mountains. Where savage grandeur reigns ; Though bright be England's fountains, And fertile be her plains ; When 'mid their charms I wander. Of thee I think the while, And seem of thee the fonder, Hy own green isle I While many who have left thee. Seem to forget thy name, ' Distance hath not bereft me Of its endearing claim : Afar from thee sojourning. Whether I sigh or smile, I call thee still " Mavourneen," My own green isle 1 Fair as the glittering waters Thy emerald banks that lave. To me thy graceful daughters, Thy generous sons as brave. Oh I there are hearts within thee Which know not shame or guile. And such proud homage win thee, My own green isle I For their dear sakes I love thee» Mavourneen, though unseen ; Bright be the sky above thee, Thy shamrock ever green ; May evil ne'er distress thee, Nor darken nor defile. But heaven for ever bless thee. My own green isle 1 BOnOOL BI0TTATI0K8. 40 ZVI. A PSALM OF UFB. What the 7oung Man said to the FBalmlat. BY II. \V, Tell mo not, in mournful numbera, " Life is but nn empty dream 1" For the gnul i.i dcail that slumbors, And tbingH aro nut what they seem. Life ia real ! Life is cnmeHt I And the grave is not iti goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returiicst," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow, Find uB farther than to-day. Art is long and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like mufiied drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. Jn the world's broad field of battle, Id the bivouac of life, LONUFRLLOW, Bo not like dumb, driven cattle 1 Be a hero in the strife 1 Trust no future, howo'cr pleasant t Let the dead Past bury Its dead 1 Act, — act in the living I'lcscnt 1 Heart within and God o'crhcad 1 Lives of greai men all remind us Wo can make our lives sublime. And, departing, leave behind us •Footprints on the sands of time: Footprints, that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate j Still achieving, still pursuing. Learn to labour and to wait. XVn. BimiAL OP SIR JOHN MOORB. BY Tin BEV. CHABLKS WOLFE, A.B. Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we hurried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning,— By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless cofBn enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, wo wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest. With his martial eloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said. And wo spoke not a word of. sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow. That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his bead, And we far away on the billow I Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone. And o'er his cold ashea upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid hiuL But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock told the hour for retiring ; And wo heard the distant and random gun That the foe Bros suddenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down. From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and wo raised not a stone, But we left him alone in his glory t ZVm. TWENTY TEARS AQO— THE SCHOOL-BOY'S REItflNISCENCB. I've wandered in the village, Tom, — Fve sat beneath the tree, — Upon the school-house playing-ground, which sheltered you and me, But none were there to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know, That played with us upon the green, some twenty years aga iO BKtICTI05S FOB The grail la just as green, Tom,— barefooted boys at play Were aportiiig just rh we did then, witb gpiritH just aa gay; But the mastor slocps upon tbo hill, which, coated o'er with anow, Afforded ua a sliding place, jiut twenty years ago. The old schooMiouae is altered now, the benches are replaced By new ones very lilse the same our penknives had defaced ; But the haino ol