713. INDUSTRY AND ELOQUENCE. In the ancient republics of Greece and Rome, oratory-was a necessary branch of a finished education. A much smaller proportion of the citizens were educated, than among us; but of these a much larger number became orators. No man-could hope for distinction, or influence, and yet slight this art. The commanders of their armies-were orators, as well as soldiers, and ruled-as well by their rhetorical, as by their military skill. There was no trusting with them-as with us, to a natural facility, or the acquisition of an accidental fluency-by actual practice. But they served an apprenticeship to the art. They passed through a regular course of instruction in schools. They submitted to long, and laborious discipline. They exercised themselves frequently, both before equals, and in the presence of teachers, who criticised, reproved, rebuked, excited emulation, and left nothing undone, which art, and perseverance could accomplish. The greatest orators of antiquity, so far from being favored by natural tendencies, except indeed, in their high intellectual endowments, had to struggle against natural obstacles; and, instead of growing up, spontaneously, to their unrivalled eminence, they forced themselves forward by the most discouraging, artificial process. 714. THE FREEMAN. And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy, Demosthenes-combatted an impediment Such, too, was the education of their other great men. They were all, according to their ability and station, orators; orators, not by nature or accident, but by education, formed in a strict process of rhetorical training; ad Of no mean city; plann'd, or ere the hills Brings its own evil with it, makes it less: TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. mired and followed-even while Demosthenes and Cicero were living, and unknown now, only because it is not possible that any, but the first, should survive the ordeal of ages. The inference to be drawn from these observations is, that if so many of those, who received an accomplished education, became To-day man's dress'd in gold and silver bright, accomplished orators, because, to become so was one purpose of their study; then, it is in Wrapt in a shroud before to-morrow-night: the power of a much larger proportion among To-day he 's feeding on delicious food, us, to form themselves into creditable and ac-To-morrow dead, unable to do good! curate speakers. The inference should not be To-day he 's nice, and scorns to feed on crurabs, denied, until proved false by experiment. To-morrow he 's himself a dish for worms; Let this art be made an object of attention, To-day he 's honor'd, and in vast esteem, and young men train themselves to it, faith-To-morrow not a beggar values him; fully, and long; and if any of competent ta lents and tolerable science be found, at last, To-day his house, tho' large, he thinks but small, incapable of expressing themselves in con-To-morrow no command, no house at all; tinued, and connected discourse, so as to an-To-day has forty servants at his gate, swer the ends of public speaking, then, and To-morrow scorn'd, not one of them will wait! not fill then, let it be said, that a peculiar To-day perfum'd, as sweet as any rose, talent, or natural aptitude-is requisite, the To-morrow stinks in everybody'? ose; want of which must render effort vain; then, and not till then, let us acquiesce in To-day he's grand, majestic, all delight, this indolent, and timorous notion, which Ghastful and pale before to-morrow night; contradicts the whole testimony of antiquity, True, as the Scripture says, “man's _..`-a eran:" and all the experience of the world.-- Wirt. The present moment is the life of man. dictating peace on a raft to the czar of Russia e. he was still the same military despot! contemplating defeat--at the gallows of Leipsig of literature must not be omitted. The jailerIn this wonderful combination, bis affectations of the press, he affected the patronage of letters; the proscriber of books, he encouraged philoso phy-the persecutor of authors, and the murderer of printers, he yet pretended to the protection of learning! the assassin of Palm, the silencer of De Stael, and the denouncer of Kotzebue, he was the friend of David, the benefactor of De Lille, and sent his academic prize to the philosopher of England. Such a medley of contradictions, and were never united in the same character. A at the same time such an individual consistency, royalist-a republican, and an emperor-a Mohammedan-a catholic and a patron of the synagogue-a subaltern and a sovereign-a traitor and a tyrant-a christian and an infidel-he was, through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, imincomprehensible self-the man-without a modpatient, inflexible original-the same mysterious, el, and without a shadow.-Phillips. 715. CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. He is fallen! We may now pause--before that splendid prodigy, which towered amongst us, like some ancient ruin, whose frown-terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy and peculiar. he sat upon the throne a sceptred nermit, wrapt-in the solitude of his own originality. A mind, bold, independent, and decisive-a will, despotic in its dictates-an energy, that distanced expedition, and a conscience-pliable to every touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary character-the most extraordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life, in the midst of a revolution. that quickened every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity! With no friend, but his sword, and no fortune, but his talents, he rushed in the list-where rank, and wealth, and genius-had arrayed themselves, and competiLon-fled from him, as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive, but interest-he acknowledged no criterion, but success+he wor shiped no God, but ambition, and, with an eastern 716. THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. Pause, devotion, he knelt-at the shrine of his idolatry. for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to conSubsidiary to this, there was no creed, that he template the universe, in which you dwell, did not profess, there was no opinion, that he did and the glory of him, who created it. What not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he up- a scene of wonders-is here presented to held the crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he your view! If beheld with a religious eye, bowed before the cross: the orphan of St. Louis, what a temple-for the worship of the Alhe became the adopted child of the republic: and mighty! The earth is spread out before you, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins-both reposing amidst the desolation of winter, or of the throne, and tribune, he reared the throne clad in the verdure of spring-smiling in of his despotism. A professed catholic, he im- the beauty of suminer, or loaded with autum prisoned the pope; a pretended patriot, he impov nal fruit;--opening to an endless variety of erished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped, without remorse, and wore, without beings-the treasures of their Maker's goodshame, the diadem of the Cesars! Through this ness, and ministering subsistence, and compantomime of policy, fortune played the clown to fort to every creature that lives. The heavhis caprices. At his touch, crowns crumbled, beg- ens, also, declare the glory of the Lord. The gars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theo- sun cometh forth from his chambers-to scatries took the color of his whim, and all that was ter the shades of night-inviting you to the venerable, and all that was novel, changed pla- renewal of your labors-adorning the face ces with the rapidity of a drama. Even appa- of nature-and, as he advances to his merirent defeat-assumed the appearance of victory-dian brightness, cherishing every herb, and his flight from Egypt confirmed his destiny-ruin every flower, that springeth from the bosom itself-only elevated him to empire. fortune was great, his genius was transcendent; from your view, doth he leave the Creator But if his of the earth. Nor, when he retires again decision-flashed upon his councils; and it was without a witness. He only hides his own the same to decide-and to perform. To inferior splendor, for a while, to disclose to you a intellects his combinations appeared perfectly impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable; but, more glorious scene-to show you the imin his hands simplicity-marked their develop mensity of space, filled with worlds unnumment, and success- vindicated their adoption. bered, that your imaginations may wander, His person--partook of the character of his mind; without a limit, in the vast creation of God. if the one-never yielded in the cabinet, the oth er-never bent in the field. Nature-had no obstacle, that he did not surmount, space-no opposition, that he did not spurn; and whether amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he seemed proof against peril, and empowered with ubiquity! The whole continent-trembled-at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Scepticism-bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romanceassumed the air of history; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too fanciful--for expectation, when the world-saw a subaltern of Corsica-waving his imperial flag-over her most ancient capitals. All the visions of antiquitybecaine cominonplaces in his contemplation; kings were his people-nations were his outposts; and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were titular dignitaries of the chess-board! Amid all these changes, he stood-iummutable as adamant. What a field is here opened, for the exer cise of every pious emotion! and how irresistibly do such contemplations as these, awaken the sensibility of the soul! Here, is infinite power-to impress you with awehere is infinite wisdom-to fill you with admiration-here is infinite goodness-to call · forth your gratitude, and love. The correspondence between these great objects, and the affections of the human heart, is estab lished by nature itself; and they need only to be placed before us, that every religious feeling may be excited.-Moodie the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is There is so great a fever in goodness, that only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accursed; much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's It mattered little, whether in the field, or in the drawing-room-with the mob, or the levee — Wearine. cobin bonnet, or the iron crownausing a Braganza, o espousing a Hapsburg-news.--Shakspeare. 718. THUNDER STORM ON THE ALPS. est, and the blush of her cheek fills with delight--but the charm of maternity, is more sublime than all these. 719. MATERNAL AFFECTION. Woman's It is the hush of night; and all between [clear, charms are certainly many and powerful. Thy margin, and the mountains, dusk, yet The expanding rose, just bursting into beauMellow'd, and mingling, yet distinctly seen, ty, has an irresistible bewitchingness; the blooming bride, led triumphantly to the hySave darkened Ju, whose capped heights ap-meneal altar, awakens admiration and interPrecipitously steep; and drawing near, [pear There breathes-a living fragrance from the shore, [ear, Of flowers-yet fresh with childhood; on the Drops the light drip of the suspended oar. [more. Dr chirps the grasshopper-one good-night carol He is an evening reveller, who makes His life-an infancy, and sings his fill! Heaven has imprinted, in the mother's face, which claims kindred with the skies,--the something beyond this world, something angelic smile, the tender look, the waking. watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe. These are objects, which neither the pencil At intervals, some bird-from out the brakes-nor the chisel, can touch, which poetry fails Starts into voice, a moment, then, is still. There seems a floating whisper, on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently, their tears of love instill, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse, Deep into Nature's breast, the spirit of her hues. The sky is changed! and such a change! O [birth. As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's Now, where the swift Rhone-cleaves his way [parted between hearted! Heights, which appear as lovers, who have Itself expired, but leaving them an age [wage! Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, to exalt, which the most eloquent tongue, in vain, would eulogize, and on which all description becomes ineffective. In the heart of man lies this lovely picture; it lives in his sympathies; it reigns in his affections; his eye looks around in vain for such another object on earth. Maternity, extatic sound! so twined round our hearts, that they must cease to throb, ere we forget it! 'tis our first love; 'tis part of our religion. Nature has set the mother upon such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes, and arms, are first uplifted to it; we cling to it in manhood; we almost worship it in old age. He, who can enter an apartment, and behold the tender babe, feeding on its mother's beauty--nourished by the tide of life, which flows through the generous veins, without a panting bosom and a grateful eye, is no mun, but a monster. 720. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. My Mary, from my soul was torn. Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Hear'st thou the groans, that rend his breast } Can I forget the hallow'd grove. Those records dear, of transports past; Ah! little thought we, 'twas our last! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods' thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn boar, Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Time, but the impression deeper makes, As streams-their channels deeper wear. Where is thy place of blissful rest? 721. RICHARD. Now-is the winter-of our discontent- Our luised arms-hung up for monuments: And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds, Remember you've worn them; and just can it be I don't mean my gifts-but you will break my Not bank notes-no, truly, I had none to send! To strut before a wanton, ambling nymph; [jesty, But, madam, you are not worth fighting about; I, that am curtail'd-of this fair proportion, Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I My sword shall be stainless, in blade, and in hilt, I thought you a jewel-I find you-a jilt. 723. DESERTED WIFE. He comes not-I have watched the moon go down, I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, And talked about poison, in accents so wild, then unperceived; and through what seemed a blank and impenetrable wall,--the barrier to all further progress,--a door is thrown open into some before unexplored hall in the sacred temple of truth. The multitude rushes in, and wonders that the portals could brilliant discovery or invention is proclaimed, have remained concealed so long. When a men are astonished to think how long they had lived on its confines, without penetrating its nature. But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches-to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Heart-within, and God--o'er head. We can make our lives sublime, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 729. No EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR. The education, moral, and intellectual, of every individual, must be, chiefly, his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were right-Quisque suæ fortunæ faber—both in morals, and intellect, we give their final shape to our own characters, and thus become, emphatically, the architects of our own fortunes. How else could it happen, that young men, who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us, with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies? Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference very often is in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see, issuing from the walls of the same college-nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family two young men, of whom the one-shall be admitted to be a genius of high order, the other, scarcely above the point of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness: while, on the other hand, you shall observe the mediocre, plodding his slow, but sure way-up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction, an ornament to his family, a blessing to his country. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their own. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of learning, that can open its portals to you, can do no more than to afford you the opportunity of instruction: but it must depend, at last, on yourselves, whether you will be instructed or not, or to what point you will push your instruction. And of this be as-senses. Certainly, this comparison is very sured-I speak, from observation, a certain truth: there is no excellence without great labor. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of genius can absolve you. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around & candle, till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the condor of South America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself, at pleasure, in that empyreal region, with an energy-rather invigorated, than weakened, by the effort. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exertion-this vigorous power of profound and searching investigation-this careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, and those long reaches of thought, that With a heart for any fate; Learn to labor, and to wait.-Longfellow. 724. DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE. in forming our notions of human nature, we are very apt to make a comparison betwixt men, and animals, which are the only creatures, endowed with thought, that fall under our favorable to mankind! On the one hand, we see a creature, whose thoughts-are not limited, by the narrow bounds, either of place. or time, who carries his researches into the most distant regions of this globe, and beyond this globe, to the planets, and heavenly bo dies; looks backward-to consider the first origin of the human race; casts his eyes forward-to see the influence of his actions upon posterity, and the judgments which will be formed of his character-a thousand years hence: a creature, who traces causes and effects-to great lengths and intricacy; extracts general principles from particular appearances; improves upon his discoveries, corrects his mistakes, and makes his very errors profitable. On the other hand, we are presented with a creature--the very reverse of ings-to a few sensible objects which sur this; limited in its observations and reason. round it; without curiosity, without foresight, blindly conducted by instinct, and arriving, in a very short time, at its utmost perfection, beyond which it is never able to advance a single step. What a difference is there be twixt these creatures! and how exalted a notion must we entertain of the former in comparison of the latter.-Hume. SURE REWARDS FOR VIRTUE. There is a morning to the tomb's long night, In life's last hour, thou wouldst not bid me lose A drowning fly, I shall not live in vain. I had rather see some women praised extraordi narily, than to see any of them suffer by detraction |