her side. The little one looked with cunning eyes at his mother, and opened the small hands in which he hid a little bùtterfly he had caught and brought with him; and the butterfly waved over the little corpse. The mother looked at it and smiled. She understood certainly the poetry of the incident.

5. Not even the magnificent harbor of Constantinople, in which security, depth, and expanse are combìned, can rival the peerless, land-locked Bay of San Francisco. How shall we describe it? You are sailing along the high coast of California, when suddenly a gàp is seen, as if the rocks had been rent asùnder: you leave the open ocean, and enter the strait. The mountains tower so high on either hand that it seems but a stone's throw from your vessel to the shore, though, in reality, it is a mile. Slowly advancing, an hour's sail brings you to where the strait grows still narrower; and lo! before you, rising from the very middle of the waters, a steep rock towers aloft like a giant warder of the strait.

6. I remember seeing, through Lord Rosse's telescope, one of those nebula which have hitherto appeared like small masses of vapor floating about in space. I saw it composed of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stars; and the effect to the eye-to mine at least-was as if I had had my hand full of diamonds, and suddenly unclosing it and flinging them forth, they were dispersed as from a cènter, in a kind of partly irrégular, partly fànlike form. And I had a strange feeling of suspense and amazement while I looked, because they did not change their relative position, did not fàll-though in the act to fall-but seemed fixed in the very attitude of being flung forth into space. It was most wondrous and beautiful to see.

7. "Having in my youth notions of severe piety," says a celeorated Persian writer, "I used to rise in the night to watch, pray, and read the Kòran. One night, as I was engaged in these exercises, my father, a man of practical virtue, awoke while I was reading. 'Behold,' said I to him, 'thy other children are lost in irreligious slùmber, while I alone wake to praise God!' 'Son of my soul,' he answered, 'it is better to sleep than to wake to remark the faults of thy brethren.'"

IV. Didactic.

1. Generally speaking, an author's style is a faithful copy of his mind. If you would write a lúcid style, let there first be light in your own mìnd; and if you would write a gránd style, you ought to have a grand character.

2. The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake
Our thirsty souls with rain;

The blow most drèaded falls to break
From off our limbs a chàin;

And wrongs of man to mán but make
The love of Gòd more plain.

As through the shadowy lens of èven
The eye looks farthest into heaven,
On gleams of star and depths of blue
The glaring sunshine never knèw.

3. A man's true wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to his fellow-man. When he dies, people will say, "What property has he left behind him?" But the angels who examine him will ask, “What good dèeds hast thou sent befòre thee?”

4. The tastes of men may differ very considerably as to their object, and yet none of them be wròng. One man relishes póetry most; another takes pleasure in othing but history. One prefers cómedy; another, tràgedy. One admires the simple; another, the òrnamented style. The young are amused with gay and sprightly compositions; the elderly are more entertained with those of a gràver cast. Some nations delight in bold pictures of mánners and strong representations of pássions; others incline to more correct and regular èlegance both in description and sèntiment. Though all differ, yet all pitch upon some one beauty which peculiarly suits their turn of mind,-and, therefore, no one has a title to condemn the rèst.

5. How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things which would frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important ùsefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, "He who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never do àny." Good is done by degrèes.

7.

6. Be nòble! and the nobleness that lies
In other men, sleeping, but never dead,
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own.
I have seen

A curious child who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very sóul
Listened intèntly; and his countenance soon
Brightened with jòy; for mùrmurings from within
Were heard-sonorous càdences! whereby,

To his belief, the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sèa.
-Even such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of Faith.

V. Public Address.

1. Canning, in a reply to one of Lord Brougham's speeches, used the following illustràtion:-In Queen Anne's reign there lived a very sage and able critic, named Dènnis, who, in his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy that he himself had written all the good things in all the good plays that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any author he insisted was his own. 'It is none of his," Dennis would say; "nò, it's mine!" He went one day to see a new tràgedy. Nothing particularly good to his taste occurred till a scene in which a great stòrm was represented. As soon as he heard the thunder rolling over head, he exclaimed, "That's my thunder!" So it is with the honorable and learned gentleman; it's all his thunder. It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thùnder.

2. It is common for men to say that such and such things are perfectly right, very desirable,-but, unfortunately, they are not pràcticable. Oh nò. Those things which are not practicable are nòt desirable. There is nothing really beneficial that does not lie within the reach of an informed understanding and a welldirected pursuit. There is nothing that God has judged good for us that He has not given us the means to accòmplish, both in the natural and mòral world. If we cry like children for the moon, like children we must cry òn.

3. I do not mean to be disrespectful; but the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town; the tide rose to an incredible height; the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destrùction.

In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the seawater, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was ròused. · Mrs. Pàrtington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unèqual. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was èxcellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tèmpest. Gentlemen, be at your ease; be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington.

4. "Poor Indians! Where are they now? Indeed, this is a truly afflicting consideration. The people here may say what they plèase; but, on the principles of eternal truth and justice, they have no right to this country. They say that they have bought it. Bought it! Yès. Of whom? Of the poor trembling natives, who knew that refusal would be in vain, and who strove to make a merit of necessity by seeming to yield with grace what they knew they had not the power to retain."

5. Whatever your lot on earth, is it not better than you desérve? and amidst all your troùbles, have not you much to be thànkful for? There are sadder hearts than yoúrs; go and comfort them, and that will comfort you. Are you ill and suffering? By your gentle patience be an example to those who are suffering tòo. It is the selfish manner in which we live, engrossed by our own troubles, which renders us unmindful of those of others; we hurry through the streets, intent on some business of our òwn, heeding not the many little acts of kindness we could do for one another which would send us home with a light heart.

6. I do not acknowledge, sir, the rìght of Plymouth to the whole rock. Nò, the rock underlies all Amèrica; it only crops out here. It has cropped out a great many tìmes in our history. You may recognìze it àlways. Old Pùtnam stood upon it at

Bunker Hill when he said to the Yankee boys, "Don't fire till you see the whites of their eyes." Ingraham had it for ballast when he put his little sloop between two Austrian frigates, and threatened to blow them out of the water if they did not respect the broad eagle of the United States. Jefferson had it for a writing-desk when he drafted the Declaration of Indepèndence and the "Statute of Religious Liberty" for Virginia.

VI. Declamatory.

1. Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hàil you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which wè now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence where we are pássing, and shall soon have pàssed, our own human duràtion.

We bid you welcome to this pleasant land of the fathers. We bid you wèlcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government and religious liberty.

We welcome you to the treasures of scíence and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domèstic life, to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and chìldren. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christiánity, and the light of everlasting truth.

2. "The gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tèndency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of Northern chàracter. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern láborers! Who are the Northern laborers? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is thèir renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Where is Còncord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the North? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renòwn on the names of those hallowed spots but the blood, and the struggles, the high daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern làborers? The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of Northern laborers? Gò, sir, go preach insurrection to men like thèse!"