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Broad banners float along the evening sky;
And flash the bossy buckler, and the lance,
Where the firm ranks of Pharaoh's foot advance;
And on each wing the fiery gleam succeeds
Of helmed chivalry on champing steeds;
While as their broad scythes glisten, comes the roar
Of brazen chariots thundering to the shore.

"Where now their aid? Before them rolls the flood;
Behind are circling hosts that thirst for blood;
But lo! as hope and prayer seem all in vain,
The cloudy pillar moves across the main;
Before their leader's wand, e'en like a scroll,
On either side the parted waters roll;
And to the eye the secret caves disclose,

Where jewels glisten, and where coral grows;
And Israel's hosts on ocean's pavement tread

With faltering steps, while surges topple o'er their head.

"The cloudy pillar, reddening into light, Blazed in their van through that eventful night, As on they pressed till midway o'er the flood, Betwixt the hosts that fearful portent stoodO'er Israel's pathway cast a rosy smile,

And clouds and darkness o'er their foes, the while.

That gloom was rayless, till a sudden light
From that dread image, burst upon their sight;
And with the lurid lightning-fires of heaven
Their brazen chariots were asunder riven;
Then as the fear-struck myriads sought the shore,
The fearful wand was stretched the waters o'er;
Again with maddening sweep the waters close
Above the heads of Israel's vengeful foes-
Peals one heaven-rending wail-the ocean wave
Rolls its broad surge above a nation's grave;
And sounding timbrel, and uplifted voice,

Bid freedom's anthem swell, till sea and plain rejoice."
Again, in describing the advent of our blessed Redeemer,
hear him:

"Idolatry had spread, and reared a fane
On every mountain, and in every plain;
In Mithra's honor rolled the incense cloud,
To every star in heaven the knee was bowed;
And grovelling tribes, with souls degraded, prayed
To beasts, and birds, and idols which they made;
And horrid sacrifice smoked in the sun,
Where human blood was poured the altars on.
In Greece where Genius had upreared her shrine;
And Science shed o'er all things grace divine;
Though Jove shook heaven, where the red bolt was
Neptune the sea--and Phoebus lit the world;
Although a naiad held each silver flood;
A faun, each field, a dryad, every wood;
Among her myriad gods, the God alone

Glory to God! peace and good will to men!'
And as each starry orb grows pale and dim,
Which brightened, as pealed out that angel hymn,
O'er Bethlehem's manger shines salvation's star,
While kings and princes follow from afar,
Shower at his royal feet their garnered store
Of gold and incense, and the infant God adore.

"In Bethlehem's babe, the promised one behold,
By typic shades, and holy seers foretold!
Loved of the Father, full of truth and grace,
With Godhead's rays divergent from his face,
He comes, the second Adam, to unbind
The yoke, the First imposed upon mankind;
And by a perfect righteousness restore
The ruined law, in Eden broke before.

Saw ye, where foiled, the serpent Tempter spread
His ebon wings upon the air, and fled,

When Jesus broke the subtle toils of hell,

Spread for that sin by which earth's Father fell?”

The sufferings and the resurrection and death of the Son of God, are thus described:

"Heard ye the plaintive prayer-the melting tonesThe rending sighs-the agonizing groans

As in Gethsemane, the Saviour bore
The sin of Eden in each bleeding pore?
While every limb was bathed in bloody sweat,
And o'er him fell the dewy tears of Olivet.
See, in 'mid air the bleeding victim hangs
While nail and spear waken their quivering pangs,
With men around unpitying and unawed,
While shuddering Nature owns her dying God:
Veiled is the sun, the solid mountains quake,
The tombs are riven, the sheeted dead awake,
The temple's veil is rent, as in the sacrifice
The all-atoning God and Saviour dies.

"Now resting in mid Heaven the harvest moon
Pours on Judea's hills night's silver noon;
And golden sheaves shall in to-morrow's sun,
Wave as the first-fruits of the harvest done;
But ere these votive offerings are paid,
From out the tomb in which the Saviour laid,
Where heavenly light from angel plumes is shed,
Behold the first-fruits of the risen dead!
Messiah lives-who lived ere time began-
The resurrection and the life of man.
Bursting the cerements of death, he rose

In majesty triumphant o'er his foes,

hurled-That wrapped the grave, and broke Death's iron spear;
Despoiled Hell's powers-dispelled the clouds of fear
And, in the glories of his rising hour,
An earnest gave of that eternal power
Which shall re-animate all human mould,

Who formed earth, sea, and heaven, was all unknown.
E'en where the Omnipotent had set his name,
And dwelt between the cherubim in flame;
Where once his truth had been displayed abroad,
Tradition had displaced the word of God;
Until in all the ceremonial train,

The rites were idle, and the worship vain.
"Amid the gloom of earth-enshrouding night,
Behold the burst of the long-promised light!
As o'er Judea's hills the shepherds keep
Their guardian watch above the slumbering sheep,
Celestial splendors, from the throne divine,
Flood the blue vault, and o'er the green vales shine;
The heavenly host their starry plumes unfold,
And from rich voices, and from harps of gold
Heaven's tidings come, which Earth repeats again,

When Heaven's great bell has o'er creation tolled;
And from their sleep in dust, the earth shall pour
Her thousands; and the sea, her dead restore.

"The risen God breathed on his followers round,
To bear his name to earth's remotest bound,
Then parted from them, to his throne he sped
Until he come to judge the quick an dead;
And Heaven's eternal gates of massive gold
The King of Glory in their valves infold."

The spread of the Gospel, and triumph of the Church of
Christ; albeit the Crescent for a time shone above the
Cross, is thus beautifully introduced:

"When in the Church was quenched the lamp of light,
Medina's prophet shed disastrous night;
From all her wastes the fiery desert poured
The hosts that bore the Koran and the sword.

The crescent rose where waved the scimetar,
And sunk the cross amid the storm of war;
And where the tapering Christian spire was set,
Gleams pale and cold the Moslem minaret,
And where the pealing bell once shook the walls,
The Muezzin now Illah il Allah!' calls.

"The sword no more extends the Koran's reign!
The Turkish moon is hastening to its wane;
And soon shall minaret and swelling dome,
Fall like the fanes of Egypt, Greece, and Rome.
No more with harp and sistrum music calls
To wanton rites within Astarte's halls;
Serapis now is gone-Anubis fled-

And Neitha's unraised veil shrouds Isis' prostrate head.

"No more the Augur stands in snowy shroud,
To watch each flitting wing and rolling cloud;
Nor Superstition in dim twilight weaves
Her wizzard song among Dodona's leaves;
Phoebus is dumb; and votaries crowd no more
The Delphian mountain, and the Delian shore ;
And lone and still the Lybian Ammon stands,
His utterance stifled by the desert sands;
And shattered shrine and altar lie o'erthrown,
Inscriptionless, save where Oblivion lone

Has dimly traced his name upon the mouldering stone.

"O'er other lands has dawned immortal day,
And Superstition's clouds have rolled away;
O'er Gallia's mounts, and on Iona's shore,
The Runic altars roll their smoke no more;
Fled is the Druid from the ancient oak-
His harp is mute-his magic circle broke;
And Desolation mopes in Odin's cells,

Where spirit-voices called to join the feast of shells.

"O'er Indian plains and ocean-girdled isles,
With brow of beauty, Truth serenely smiles,
The nations bow as light is shed abroad,
And break their idols for the living God;
Quenched are the pyres as shines salvation's star,
Grim Juggernaut is trembling on his car,

And cries less frequent come from Ganges' waves,
As infant forms sink in untimely graves.
Where heathen bondmen kneel by the cocoa-tree,
And supplicate the Christians' Deity;
And chant in living aisles, the vesper hymn,

Where giant god-trees rear their temples dim.

"Still speed thy truth! still wave thy spirit sword!
Till every land acknowledge thee, the Lord;
And the broad banner of the cross, unfurled,
In triumph wave above a subject world,

And here, Oh God! where feuds thy church divide-
The Sectary's rancor, and the bigot's pride-
Melt every heart-till all our breasts enshrine
One faith, one hope, one love, one zeal divine;
And with one voice, adoring nations call
Upon the Father and the God of all."

The last great drama, the winding up of the vast machinery of time, the dissolution of our Globe-" Our God in grandeur and our world on fire,"- -are thus thrillingly brought in, and appropriately close the work.

"Lo! now descending, where the heavens are bowed; A mighty angel, girdled with a cloud!

A rainbow gleams, his circled brows upon,

His feet are flame-his face a fiery sun;

And as the seven-fold thunders cease to roll,

With threatening hand, he lifts to heaven his scroll,

His footsteps planted on the sea and shore,

And swears with awful voice, that time is now no more.

"Through nature peals the sound. Stunned by the blow,
The dizzy Earth is staggering to and fro;
The ocean heaves-eternal mountains rock,
And shuddering isle and valley feel the shock;
From riven Earth and from the ocean caves,
The shrouded dead are startled from their graves,
And shrink as o'er their heads, with threatening glare,
The sphere-flung stars rush blazing through the air;
The rocks are melting-withered is the flood,
The sun is sackcloth and the moon is blood;
Earth fails apace, and like a shrivelling scroll,
The scorched and blackened heavens, together roll.

"Lo! 'mid this darkness of chaotic night,
The sudden burst of Heaven's all-glorious light!
Hark 'mid the din throughout creation's bounds,
The sudden burst of Heaven's melodious sounds!
Behold! where trump and wreathed horn are blown,
The winged seraphs bear the great white throne;
And where the eternal gonfalon unrolled,
Sheds golden lustre from each waving fold,
The guardian cherubim, in glittering line,
With fiery swords and blazing helmets shine;
And far and wide the myriad angel train
Wave their white plumes o'er the celestial plain.

"The Judge is seated. Hill and mountain flee
Before the presence of the Deity;

Upborne by winged winds, in robes of snow,
The saints appear, who formed the church below,
To serve him in that temple, where no night
Obscures the day, but God himself is light;
Where ruby pave, and walls of sapphire, burn,
And gates of pearl on golden hinges turn;
Adoring hosts in concord sweep the string
Of heavenly harps, and alleluias sing;

Then soar above, while Earth's last flames are curled,
And Chaos' curtain falls above a smouldering world."

We have not attempted to write a critical review of the work, but merely to call attention to the style and spirit of the performance. Perhaps the critic may find here and there a few errors, such as a syllable or two more in one line than in its corresponding one-but these are the errors of a mind, it can be perceived, so intent upon the loftiness of its theme, as to lose sight for a moment of metrical harmony. Our space forbids us saying anything more on the subject.

SPARKS THAT MAY KINDLE.

THE SCHOLAR'S INHERITANCE.

Not gold and gems;-not meadows and pastures, fat flocks and waving grain;-not deeds, bonds, mortgages, and stocks-such things seldom fall to the scholar's lot. If he have a thatched cottage, a shady elm, a musical brook, a maple dish with his books and a clear mind, he may well be content, and deem himself rich withal. Often is he poorer than this; but weighs not a scanty wardrobe and the uncertain meal, in comparison with sure knowledge. Yet is the scholar heir to a worthier inheritance, measured out by no metes and bounds, weighed in no earthly balances, and of a value assignable by no ordinary calculus. It embraces every pebble, every spire of grass, every flashing wave, the depths

One speaker in this Congress of huge whales;
There came an Amos Kendall of a shark--
An awful fellow to despatch the males—
And he suggested, in his flippant manner,

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of the sea, the caverns of the earth. It compasses | Before a fish had risen to remark—
the circuit of the stars, and he weighs and measures
them as his rightful possessions. Wherever aught
may be known, there is his realm. Every thought,
feeling, act of man, in the long reach of his his-
That they should turn the STEAMER into sport,
tory, past and to come, is his. The spirits of And if they couldn't strike Old England's banner,
earth and air are his; the soul of the flower, and Deny the jurisdiction of the court."
the demon of the mine, the invisible agencies of
the wind, and the melodies of the spheres. With
reverent awe he passes into the society of celes-
tial hierarchies, not as a stranger, but as one of
them. Lowly and humble in his temper, the shi-
ning laws and orders of the universe are his, as he
is duly subject to them. The unseen messengers
that pass to and fro between heaven and earth
visit him too, in his meekness and integrity.

To this inheritance he is always welcome. In the regions of thought no one will hinder his entrance. There, are no barring clauses, no writs of ejectment. Nature receives her child heartily,

and with good cheer. The heart of the world is open to him who carries a true heart within him. Science throws open all her stores to him who would enjoy them; his own rudeness only, and want of skill detain him from the complete fruition.

This inheritance is everlasting. His title to it lies in no bond nor lease, but deep in his own immortal being. No earthly law can divest it, no ordinance of princes abate its worth, nothing but his own recreancy and baseness. He who made the eye for light, made also the soul for truth; and the sight of the soul which fails not through age, is evidence that the perception shall hereafter grow clearer forever.

Northampton, Mass.

F. M. H.

"Oho!" bawled out some six-and-thirty spouters-
"A steamer, is it? such as go on rivers ;”—
"Then we are done for!" groaned three dozen shouters;
And their broad tails betrayed their mental shivers!
"If steamers thus can make a transit over
From Bristol to New-York, with speed terrific
As they now go from Calais unto Dover,
They soon will splash into the wide Pacific!
And we shall be harpooned; and oil will flow

In streams from Carolina even to Japan;
And white men's faces will shine out, you know,
Like the black favorites of A- T."

He ceased-the whale that spoke; and then the shark
That, not to keep them longer in the dark,
Rose on his tail to order, and replied--

Or hide a fact that couldn't be denied ;
He'd heard one passenger say to another,
ThatCaptain Hosken had assured the owner
He'd soon cross over in less time and pother

Than the accommodation-whale, that carried Jonah;
And that was three days and three nights,--half week!”
On hearing this the monsters were so frightened,
That each off-darted, like a lightning streak,
And left the billows beautifully brightened!
The shark-he was a wag, likewise sarcastic;
He gave a grin and scudded towards the steamer,
And oped and shut àis ponderous jaws so plastic.
In hopes that he should catch some blown-up schemer-
Toppling down headlong, like a Roman hero,
Into the ambush of the greedy spoiler;

But not a toe fell to the ocean Nero,

For the GREAT WESTERN didn't burst her boiler!

THE STEAMER.*

A FISH STORY.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

What said the mighty monsters of the deep-
When whizzing, puffing, spluttering it came,
And woke up all the whales that were asleep,
And other fishes, we won't stop to name?

THE GRAVE YARD.

"There all are equal, side by side,
The poor man, and the son of pride,
Lie calm and still."

Voices of the night,

How peacefully they rest; the young, the old,

The grave, and gay, here sleep alike in silence.

Time, which destroys all things, has smoothed

The roughness of their sepulchres. The first flowers of spring

"What said they!" Faith! they couldn't speak for wonder, Shed their fragrance; the songs of sweet birds resound

But held a silent meeting, like the quakers; And some concluded that it must be thunder

That turned the waves from tumblers into shakers.

The biggest spouters were dumb-foundered quite,
As orators are apt upon emergency;
And on their shallow brains there beamed no light-
How t' account for such a strange divergency
From the calm, quiet, usual course of packets;
Which make a monthly voyage from shore to shore,
And never kick up such prodigious rackets,
Or fight the billows with so loud a roar.

Through the groves in notes of sweetest harmony.
Sunshine and storm; the falling leaves of Autumn,
And the moaning of the wintry winds, have held
Their reign successive o'er the sleeper's heads.
The moon has walked her nightly course, and thrown
Her beams, silvering the head-stones of the sleeper's 'round.
The stars peep out and shine and twinkle in their spheres,
Glistening in the dew drop, on the tender grass,
Like tears on cheek of beauty. Yet they know not;
Heed not; Dull sleep rests heavy on their eyelids,
And nature's gentle influences are lost

Upon the lifeless clod which once was called a man.
Death has sealed the eye of hope forever; palsied

* Written after the first arrival at New-York of "The The strong arm, and shut the active senses Great Western."

Into deep forgetfulness.

Mark how silent is he

Who once the homage of his fellows claimed.
The sculptured monument may mark his place of rest,
And tell to man, his virtues and his greatness;

His noble deeds, his riches, and his charity; but how little
Does it now avail the mortal perishing beneath;

The dull ear drinks not in the melody of sweetest music;
And flattery's witching voice no longer charms the soul.
Even the words of the wayfarer, who reads his epitaph,
Falls to the ground unnoticed. The bard who sung
"Earth's highest honors" end in, "here he lies;"

And "dust to dust" concludes his noblest song; he had seen
The vanity of earthly things; and from the follies
Of his fellow men had lessons read of wisdom.

Here also rests the child of poverty. No more
The wants and cares of life disturb his aching heart;
Sickness, and toil, the icy chains which bound to earth
His strongest aspirations, are now forgotten. Calm
And quiet, in his home he sleeps, as the wearied child
Upon the parent's bosom. No more, the iron of unkindness
Enters, directed by a brother's hand, into his soul.
The rags of poverty for robes immortal, are exchanged;
And through the endless ages of his rest,
The wonders of redeeming love are hymned.

Near him, the new made grave,
With the clods still damp, tells of one, who but yesterday,
Looked abroad, and rejoiced in heart at nature's loveliness.
But the destroyer came; and while the fond mortal
Years of future bliss anticipated, he felt the chills of death,
And all the schemes which cheered the visions of past hours,
Like tender fruit nipped by unkindly frosts, were spoiled.
Still further on, and almost by the high grass hid,
Which waves o'er his tiny form, is laid an infant,
Like the tender flower which opes its leaves, and soon
Is closed by the rude hand of the careless, so this sweet boy
But looked upon a world of sorrow,

of those dwelling-places, scattered throughout the world, and known as "the houses appointed for all the living." My evening meditations may be of less value to you than the space they will occupy in your Messenger; and if they are, you can take the liberty of a friend, without offence, and quietly change their resting-place, by mingling them with the dust and ashes, of which all of us, and all around us, the living soul alone excepted, must soon become a part.

Your's truly,

Washington, Dec. 19, 1841.

E. B.

TO BE BORN, TO BE MARRIED, AND TO DIE! Thus briefly we write the history of all mankind, from the moment they make their entrance upon the stage of life, to the moment that they make their exit from it, and to be launched forth upon a new and untried being. The majority die in infancy. They spring forth like the buds of the promised flowers in summer, as fair as they are pure, and as lovely in the eyes of a fond parent as they are innocent in the presence of all mankind. The rose is not sweeter, nor the lily purer, than this bright cherub, when just ushered into the world. Behold the newborn infant! A child is born: but yesterday all was doubt, fear and alarm; and to-day, in that quick transition from fear to hope, all is joy and gladness. As the blossom of the fruit tree, so beautiful to the eye and so full of promise, unfolds itself, so this flower of the fruit of the tree of life is opening its petals, with the promise, not of a transitory existence, but of a blessed immortality, before it. It breathes the breath of life; the scales fall from its little eyes, and gradually, as soon as its weak power of vision can bear the light of heaven, its eyes are opened to all the world around it. The power of limb and muscle is already felt; and ere the gift of sight is fairly felt and known, you behold the power of speech developed. And then, yes then, when the heart beats high with hope; when the past and present are forgotten in the future; and events for the time to come, have been parcelled out like playthings for each sucCONGRESSIONAL BURYING-GROUND. childhood to youth, Death steps in, uncalled for; uncessive year, from infancy to childhood, and from

And turning, sought for rest, in realms of endless bliss.
Here, O man, receive instruction. The dead, the dead,
The silent dead, do speak in tones of thrilling eloquence.
And he who listens with attentive heart,
May from these relics of mortality perishing,
Lessons of wisdom learn, which gild the pathway to the tomb;
Support the trembling footstep on death's troubled waters,
And strengthen the fading vision to behold, undimmed,
The lights, and shadows of eternity.

MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS.

To T. W. WHITE, ESQ.

CYRIL.

wished for; as dreadful to look upon as it is painEditor of the Southern Literary Messenger. ful to feel, in the hours of approaching dissolution. DEAR SIR,-For the want of something better Its message is, " Death;" and its journey "to the to do, and in that frame of mind which grows weary grave." The spirit of infancy and purity has alwith the monotony of the events of every-day life, ready winged its way to the God who gave it, and I sat out, an hour or two since, to make a visit to the tabernacle of flesh, which held the hallowed the principal Burying-Ground of Washington City. treasure, lies low beneath the clods of the valley. Returning to my domicil, I find myself alone, mu- There is a consolation for those who are left, it is sing while the fire burns, and so far lost in the re- true; but the heart which clung to its offspring, as flection of what I have read and seen, the hour the ivy clings to the oak, will not be consoled. gone by, that I have thought you and your readers, The good angel whispers,-" OF SUCH is the Kingperhaps, might be interested, as I have been, in a DOM OF HEAVEN;" but to look on vacancy, where a brief remembrance and record of some of the dead moment before, we looked on life, and that life a whose remains lie entombed in one of the myriad part of ourselves, "bone of our bone and flesh of

VOL. VIII-11

were all laid here, and buried in all the pomp and circumstance due to the elevated positions to which they had been raised by patriotism, learning and distinguished public service. What was, has been written by a grateful country, or a devoted friend, upon the cenotaph or tombstone,

our flesh," is a picture so dark, and so interwo- age, rich and poor, the exalted in life and the humven with our affections; and so human too, that we bled in life, all laid down together, and upon that see, soaring aloft and around and at all points, only common ground, which levels all distinctions.that Destroying Angel, who, if he has not robbed The dust of generations past, lies mingled with us of all we loved, is nevertheless hovering over the man who but yesterday "shuffled off his us, and, like the relentless grave itself, crying mortal coil," and put on immortality. Presidents, “Give,” “ Give," " GIVE," for all that remains be- Vice-Presidents, Senators, Legislators and Judges hind. And yet, with such a translation of the spirit of man from its temporary abiding place on earth, to its immortal home in the skies, what a death would that be, even of infant innocence, to a doting parent, if there were no hope, no heaven,— no "bourne from whence the travellers return.' And what is infancy, but a leaf in the chapter of which tells you that here were, or here are, the human existence? Helplessness and dependence remains of one who passed from the council chamgive place to strength and vigor. The body ber or the battle-field, or from a green old age, to his grows--the mind expands--and, alas, that it should grave. The inscriptions we read, and the rebe so, the unalloyed innocence of an infant mind,-membrances we have, are all that is told and known powerless it is true to do wrong,-is changed of those who are gone. The good men do live into "a heart deceitful above all things, and des- after them,-and that divine principle of man-perperately wicked." We grow in years to the sta-haps the only divinity within him-teaches him, ture of perfect manhood. The image of the while he drops the tear of gratitude over the grave Godhead is stamped upon us, and within that of the sage and the hero, how to appreciate what frame of his, is placed every constituent element is really good and great in each and all of the hu which makes man, next to the Deity, the master man family. In an humbler sphere, that other mind of creation. Behold that herculean form,- grave, simple and unadorned, but beside those of erect, perfect, gigantic, as it is. In itself, the rank and fortune, is visited and remembered by mere flesh and blood and bones of his being,-private friends, who can often much better estiis written legibly to all, that "we are fearfully and mate the value of private worth, than a country wonderfully made." But look within this trunk, can, the blessings of public virtue. All here have which, like the tree, holds but the branches of life, their common level; as all hereafter, of equal merit, and you see there the true man. Those eyes are will have their common elevation. Imagination but windows of the soul, and the ears which hear can trace both, from the bosom of their mother only drink in that feast of reason which builds up earth, to Abraham's bosom, in the world of spirits. his monument of immortality. The organ of that But the body rests where it is; and what a picvoice, which in some men is as the music of the ture it is for the imagination of man to work upon. celestial choir, is but a part of the machinery of Who will answer for it, the question put for all to the power of speech,-and so of every sense answer, in reference to the greatest General at arms we have and use. And yet all these organs, of the world ever saw. "Why," it is asked, and oddly mind and body, sense and flesh, all that we have we may think, " may not imagination trace the noand are, perish, wither, and pass away forever. ble dust of Alexander, till it find it stopping a bungThat monument of mind, reared by the Almighty, hole? As thus-Alexander died, Alexander was and by the skill and time and labor of man, "so buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is noble in reason, so infinite in faculty, in action like an angel, and in apprehension like a god," has changed its estate on earth, and passed from a frail tenement of clay to a world of spirits. The nice machinery of being, which made man to the eyes of man, "in form and moving so express and admirable, the beauty of the world and the paragon of animals," has crumbled into the dust of its mother earth, the grave his body, and the world unknown, his spirit, holds. The epitaph upon every man's tombstone is-Birth, Life, Death! We breathe and live, speak and see, hear and feel; and then we die. Well may it be said "to what base uses we may return."

earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?" And so of all the Alexanders, from Cyrus to Napoleon.

"Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away; O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!” Such are the uses to which we come at last. The machinery which kept soul and body together in such nice harmony, has stopped. Its revolutions have been checked,-it may be, by that Providence which watches all our movements, and notes even the falling of the sparrow to the ground; or it may I looked upon the graves around me, as I left be, that those tender and delicate cords of life have them just now, and what a spectacle did they been cut asunder, by disease and crime. The folly present! Rank, and perhaps dishonor, youth and of man has been a greater suicide than man's mis

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