THE NASAL. "That nasal twang, Heard in conventicle, where worthy men, Misled by custom, strain celestial themes Through the pressed nostril spectacle-bestrid,” is placed here, not to be acquired--but to be avoided. It is the outcome of permitting too much or too little air to pass through the nasal passages. Those who may have acquired this quality from carelessness should regard it as a defect, and, hence, begin to overcome it. It is chiefly valuable for mimics and imper sonators. GENERAL EXAMPLES. From Father Connel. Helen heard the noise of a heavy blow, and the long shrieks suddenly stopped. subsiding into a low, melancholy cry, followed by deep, deep moans; and a second blow, accompanied by a hissing sound of human breath, such as workmen utter, when they labor with a hatchet. Perfect silence ensued, for a short time, only interrupted by the whispering of the nightbreeze through the grass, and through the bushes, and by the gentle fall of water near at hand. Hasty footsteps entered the little hollow, and paused within a few feet of where she lay concealed. "This is the place he bade us wait for him," said a hoarse. deep voice but in cautious tones. "It is," answered another person-and the two words were spoken with a shudder. "That was a black act," continued the first voice, "Oh, it was a bloody deed! Oh, the thought of this night will never leave my mind, never, never!"- - Banim. From Nature Proclaims a Deity. There is a God! the herbs of the valley, the cedars of the mountain bless him: the insect sports in His beams; the bird sings Him in the foliage; the thunder proclaims Him in the Heavens, the ocean declares His immensity: man alone has said, there is no God! Unite in thought at the same instant the most beautiful objects in nature. Suppose that you see, at once, all the hours of the day, and all the seasons of the year: a morning of spring and a morning of autumn: a night bespangled with stars, and a night darkened by clouds; meadows enamelled with flowers; forests hoary with snow; fields gilded by the tints of autumn,-then alone you will have a just conception of the universe!--Chateaubriand. From Philosophy of History. Christianity was the connecting power which linked together the great community of European nations, not only in the moral and political relations of life, but also in science and modes of thinking. The Church was like the all embracing vault of heaven, beneath whose kindly shelter, those warlike nations began to settle in peace, and gradually to frame their laws and institutions. Even the office of instruction, the heritage of Christian knowledge, the promotion of science, and of all that tended to advance the progress of the human mind, devolved to the care of the Church, and were exclusively confined to the Christian schools....The little knowledge that was then possessed, was by the more active spirit, and the sound understanding and practical sense of the European nations, and their better priesthood, applied with general advantage to the interests of Society. Science was not then, as in the latter period of its proud ascendency, in open hostility with the pure dictates of faith and the institutions of life. On that world so variously excited in peace, as in war, and by the different pursuits of art and industry, useful knowledge and wholesome speculation descended, not like a violent flood, but like the soft distillations of the refreshing dew, or the gentle drops of fertilizing rain, from the Heaven of faith which over-arched the whole. Frederick von Schleyel. From A Sermon on Heaven. You have found yourself, perchance, upon a summer day, within the sanctuary of some sequestered vale: the tempered sunshine rests on all; in the rain-freshened verdure of the tree above you, and of the grass beneath your feet: on the smiling hills that enfold you on every side; on the sleeping waters the lake beneath. The air is sweet with the scent of flowers, and cooled by the plashing of the shady stream; sounds of song are in the sky above, and in the woods and thickets around. Though, indeed, you scarcely note each several charm; for it is the unspeakable harmony of all, and its unison with the chords of your heart within, that you are sensible of as you pant out, in a very rapture of thanksgiving, My God, this is heavenly! Yes, it is; and thank Him for such a glimpse into the mirror, when the very smoothness of unfallen nature is upon it, when the Peace of Paradise seems restored, and the unclouded smile of its not yet outraged God seems reflected on earth that bears as yet no curse. Make the most of such hours, for they will quickly pass: the valley will be storm-swept, the skies darkened, the verdure, the fragrance, the melody,—all will soon go. But that is to remind you that what you have seen is an image, and not the reality; it is not to take away the lesson that its beauty has taught you, nor to rob you of the hope it has kindled in your soul. For the invisible Heaven of God is clearly seen from the created world below, being understood through its image in creation.-Archbishop Ryan. From Sursum Corda. Homeless hearts! homeless hearts! through the dreary, dreary years, Ye are lonely, lonely wand'rers, and your way is wet with tears; In bright or blighted places, wheresoever ye may roam, Ye look away from earth-land, and ye murmur, "Where is ho.ne? Homeless hearts! God is Home! From To a Tomb. What horror at thy sight shoots through each sense! Which never flatters! Thou instruct'st the proud, Dares welcome death, whose aims at virtue be. Habington. From The Necessity of Religion for Society. Religion is the only solid basis of society. If the social edifice rests not on this eternal and immutable foundation, it will soon crumble to pieces. It would be as vain to attempt to establish society without religion as to erect a palace in the air, or on shifting sands, or to hope to reap a crop from seed scattered on the ocean's surface. Religion is to society what cement is to the building: it makes all parts compact and coherent. What principles without religion are binding enough to exact of you that obedience which you owe to society and to the laws of your country? Is it the dread of civil punishment? But the civil power takes cognizance only of overt acts. It has no jurisdiction over the heart, which is the seat of rebellion, the secret council chamber where dark schemes are concocted. The civil power cannot enter the hidden recesses of the soul, and quell the tumults raging there. It cannot suppress those base calumnies, whispered in the dark, which poison the social atmosphere with their foul breath, and breed hatred, resentment, and death. You might as well try to preserve a tree from decay by lopping off a few withered branches whilst allowing the worms to gnaw at the roots, as to try preserve the social tree from moral corruption by preventing some external crimes whilst leaving the heart to be worm-eaten by vice.-Cardinal Gibbons. From Hamlet. Act III. Where to serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence? And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,— Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up. Of those effects for which I did the murder. Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe; All may be well. From "Hereafter." Shakespeare. Is it not sweet to think, hereafter Hearts from which 't was death to sever, When wearily we wander, asking |