Part Twelfth

Each of the Four Numbers of

"100 Choice Selections" contained in this volume is paged separately, and the Index is made to correspond therewith. See EXPLANATION on first page of Contents.

The entire book contains nearly

1000 pages.

100

CHOICE SELECTIONS.

No. 12.

THEN AND NOW,—1776–1876.—F. W. FISH.

Looking back a hundred years,

And comparing the now and then,

It seems to me that in spite of fears
The country has earnest men,

As willing to draw the sword for right,
As ready to wield the pen.

It seems to me that in faithful hearts
The currents yet ebb and flow,

With a constant motion that still imparts
As steady and clear a glow

Of zeal for freedom's glorious arts,

As a hundred years ago.

It seems to me that in field and forge,

By river and by rill,

In fertile plain and mountain gorge,

In city and hamlet, still

They live as they did in the days of King George,

Of Concord and Bunker Hill.

I do not know that the hands are weak,
Or the brain unused to plan;

That the tongue delays the truth to speak,
Or the foot to march in the van;

But I know full well that we need not seek
In vain for a Minute Man.

There are men to-day who would stand alone
On the bridge Horatius kept;

There are men who would fight at Marathon,
Who would battle with Stark at Bennington
When flashing from sabre and flint-lock gun
The fires of freedom leapt.

It is better to look back with pride and boast,-
It is well to look ahead;

The past to all is a dream at most,

The future is life instead;

And standing unmoved at your duty's post
Is truthfully praising the dead.

"GOD IS NOWHERE."

AN ACTUAL OCCURRENCE.

A hard, stern man upon a sick bed lay,
More and more feeble with each passing day;
No hallowing dream of heavenly peace was there,
No ray of love divine-no breath of prayer.

Kind Christian friends, on holiest mission bent,
Came bright and hopeful-sad and anxious went;
Harder and sterner still the Atheist grew,
The flinty heart no answering softness knew.

Angry at last at each persistent call,
With firm refusal he denied them all;
The Saviour's sacred name he would not hear,
His loving words could find no listening ear.
"Wife, fetch the blackboard and a bit of chalk!
One way remains to stop this senseless talk;
I will write something which is truth indeed,
And have it placed where every one may read."

The thin, weak hand that scarce the chalk could hold,
Wrote "God is nowhere," very large and bold;
The fearful sentence met his waking sight
In wretched mockery, by day and night.

Time crept along-hour after hour passed o'er,
While the death-angel still his touch forbore;
Lower and lower burned the flickering flame,
And slower yet the fitful pulses came.

Then, happier change repaid the anxious view-
And hope so long denied, sprang forth anew;
Through every vein a fuller current flowed,
And Heaven once more the gift of life bestowed.
Soon the fond father sought his banished child,
Who erst with prattle sweet, his heart beguiled;
Charmed to come back, she told her little news,
And showed her "nice new gown and pretty shoes."
"And that's not all- the tones grew eager now--
For I can read-my aunty taught me how!"
"Nonsense, my dear!" the father quick replied,
"You cannot read, of that I'm satisfied."

"Yes, father dear! Oh yes! I truly can,
For aunty taught me"-and the child began
To look around, perchance to find some way
Of proving what her words had failed to say.
The father smiled-and pointing to the wall
Said; "Well, read that, if you can read at all;"
She hesitated-and the father spoke-
"I told you so-I knew it was a joke."

But still she strove,-her deep and earnest eyes
Fixed on the board,-and soon in glad surprise,
Exclaimed, "I know it now! Oh yes I see!
'God-is-now-here'-the last word puzzled me."
The conscience-stricken man, in mute amaze,
Covered his face to hide his startled gaze,
While, from the rocky fount, untouched for years,
Burst forth a flood of pure and holy tears.

"My God! my child-and has my darling learned
What I with death so near, denied and spurned?
Father, forgive! and fill with love divine,

That life thy mercy spared,-now wholly Thine."

GOOD READING THE GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT.

JOHN S. HART, LL.D.

There is one accomplishment, in particular, which I would earnestly recommend to you. Cultivate assiduously the ability to read well. I stop to particularize this, because it is a thing so very much neglected, and because it is such an elegant, and charming accomplishment. Where one person is