In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,
And, gazing down with timid grace,

She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

12. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheel to a spinet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;
And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,
A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty, and love was law.
Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."

13. Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity them both, and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: " It might have been !"
Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;
And, in the hereafter, angels may

Roll the stone from its grave away!

CHAPTER LXXVI.-MISCELLANEOUS.

I.-Government, and Liberty.

1. Society can no more exist without government, in ɔne form or another, than man without society. It is the political, then (which includes the social), that is his natural state. It is the one for which his Creator formed

him, into which he is impelled irresistibly, and in which only his race can exist, and all his faculties be fully developed.

2. Such being the case, it follows that any, even the worst form of government, is better than anarchy, and that individual liberty or freedom must be subordinate to whatever power may be necessary to protect society against anarchy within or destruction from without; for the safety and well-being of society are as paramount to individual liberty as the safety and well-being of the race are to that of individuals; and in the same proportion, the power necessary for the safety of society is paramount to individual liberty. On the other hand, government has no right to control individual liberty beyond what is necessary to the safety and well-being of society.

3. It follows from all this that the quantum of power on the part of the government, and of liberty on that of individuals, instead of being equal in all cases, must necessarily be very unequal among different people, according to their different conditions. For, just in proportion as a people are ignorant, stupid, debased, corrupt, exposed to violence within and danger without, the power necessary for government to possess, in order to preserve society against anarchy and destruction, becomes greater and greater, and individual liberty less and less, until the lowest condition is reached, when absolute and despotic power becomes necessary on the part of the government, and individual liberty becomes extinct.

4. So, on the contrary, just as a people rise in the scale of intelligence, virtue, and patriotism, and the more perfectly they become acquainted with the nature of govern ment, the ends for which it was ordered, and how it ought to be administered, and the less the tendency to violence and disorder within and danger from abroad, the power necessary for government becomes less and less, and individual liberty greater and greater.―John C. Calhoun.

II.-Eulogy upon John C. Calhoun.

1. Sir, the eloquence of Mr. Calhoun, or the manner of his exhibition of his sentiments in public bodies, was part of his intellectual character. It grew out of the qualities of his mind. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, concise; sometimes impassioned, still always severe. Rejecting ornament, not often seeking far for illustration, his power consisted in the plainness of his propositions, in the closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and energy of his manner. These are the qualities, as I think, which have enabled him through such a long course of years to speak often, and yet always command. attention. His demeanor as a senator is known to us all —is appreciated, venerated by us all. No man was more respectful to others; no man carried himself with greater decorum; no man with superior dignity.

2. Mr. President, he had the basis, the indispensable basis, of all high character; and that was, unspotted integrity, unimpeached, honor and character. If he had aspirations, they were high, honorable, and noble. There was nothing grovelling, or low, or meanly selfish, that came near the head or the heart of Mr. Calhoun. Firm in his purpose, perfectly patriotic and honest, as I am sure he was, in the principles that he espoused, and in the measures that he defended, aside from that large regard for that species of distinction that conducted him to eminent stations for the benefit of the republic I do not believe he had a selfish motive, or selfish feeling.

3. However, sir, he may have differed from others of us in his political opinions, or his political principles, those principles and those opinions will now descend to posterity under the sanction of a great name. He is now an historical character. We shall hereafter, I am sure, indulge in it as a grateful recollection that we have lived in his age, that we have been his contemporaries, that we

have seen him, and heard him, and known him. We shall delight to speak of him to those who are rising up to fill our places. And, when the time shall come when we ourselves shall go, one after another, in succession to our graves, we shall carry with us a deep sense of his genius and character, his honor and integrity, his amiable deportment in private life, and the purity of his exalted patriotism.-Daniel Webster.

CHAPTER LXXVII.-OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.-1809.

I.—Biographical.

1. Of this kindest, most genial and brilliant of wits, James Russell Lowell wrote, in his Fable for Critics,—

"You went crazy, last year, over Bulwer's New Timon:
Why, if B., to the day of his dying, should rhyme on,
Heaping verses on verses, and tomes upon tomes,
He could ne'er reach the best point and vigor of Holmes.
His are just the fine hands, too, to weave you a lyric
Full of fancy, fun, feeling, or spiced with satiric,
In so kindly a measure, that nobody knows.

What to do but e'en join in the laugh, friends and foes."

2. Mr. Holmes, the son of a clergyman eminent in letters, was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and was educated at Phillips Academy and Harvard University. He studied law, but exchanged that pursuit for medicine; he became Professor of Anatomy at Dartmouth College in 1838, and was transferred in 1847 to the same chair at Harvard.

3. He began to attract attention as a poet by the metri cal addresses which he delivered before a college literary society known as the Phi Beta Kappa, from the initial letters of its Greek motto. The first of these addresses was an essay on the art of poetry, its species, and their laws

of composition. But, though best known as a writer of verse, Dr. Holmes has edited medical text-books and written professional essays of a high order. He published, in the Atlantic Monthly, The Autocrat of the Breakfast- Table, which was followed by The Professor at the Breakfast Table, and The Poet at the Breakfast-Table,-books of essays containing reflections on the affairs of cultivated life, in which thoughtful and philosophical observations are made with sparkling wit and airy grace.

4. While Dr. Holmes excels in his verses that are composed to wear an unpremeditated aspect on particular occasions, and which abound in droll mirth or sparkling irony, he has also written many sober pastoral and martial verses, and some spirited war lyrics. An example of the former is A Meeting of the Dryads, a poem on the thinning of the trees in the college campus.

5. When the old frigate Constitution, which had captured the British ships Guerriere and Java in the war of 1812, was lying at the Charlestown Navy-Yard, under orders from the Secretary of War to be broken up, Dr. Holmes saved her from this fate by writing the following verses, which circulated through the country with an electric thrill:

II.-Old Ironsides.

1. Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,

And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,

And burst the cannon's roar;—
The meteor of the ocean air

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

2. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood
And waves were white below,