to commune with the spirits of departed days, and to catch a fresh enthusiasm from their deathless shades.

We celebrate to-day no idle tradition-the deeds of no fabulous race; for we tread in the scarcely obliterated footsteps of an earnest and valiant generation of men, who dared to stake life, and fortune, and sacred honor, upon a declaration of rights, whose promulgation shook tyrants on their thrones, gave hope to fainting freedom, and reformed the political ethics of the world.

The greatest heroes of former days had sought renown in schemes of conquest, based on the love of dominion or the thirst for war; and such had been the worship of power in the minds of men, that adulation had ever followed in the wake of victory. How daring then the trial of an issue between a handful of oppressed and outlawed colonists, basing their cause, under God, upon an appeal to the justice of mankind and their own few but valiant arms. And how unmeasurably great was he, the fearless commander, who, after the fortunes and triumphs of battle were over, scorned the thought of a regal throne for a home in the hearts of his countrymen. Amidst the rejoicings of this day, let us mingle something of gratitude with our joy-something of reverence with our gratitude-and something of duty with

reverence.

Let us cultivate personal independence in the spirit of loyalty to the state, and may God grant that we may always be able to maintain the sovereignty of the state, in the spirit of integrity to the union. Thus shall still be shed imperishable honors upon the American name-thus perpetuated, through all coming time, the heritage which has been bequeathed to us by our fathers. Whatever shall be the fate of other governments, ours, thus sustained, shall stand for ever. As has been elsewhere said, nation after nation may rise and fall, kingdoms and empires crumble into ruin, but our own native land, gathering energy and strength from the lapse of time, shall go on and still go on its destined way to greatness and renown. And when thrones shall have crumbled into dust, when scepters and diadems shall have been long forgotten, till Heaven's last thunder shall shake the world below, the flag of the republic shall still wave on, and its stars, its stripes, and its eagle, shall still float in pride, and strength, and glory,

"Whilst the earth bears a plant,

Or the sea rolls a wave."

Ex. LVIII.-THE THREE BEATS.

G. W. PATTEN

ROLL-roll!-How gladly swell the distant notes,
From where, on high, yon starry pennon floats!
Roll-roll-On, gorgeously they come,

With plumes low-stooping, on their winding way,
With lances gleaming in the sun's bright ray:-
"What do ye here, my merry comrades,-say?”—
"We beat the gathering drum;

"Tis this which gives to mirth a lighter tone,
To the young soldier's cheek a deeper glow,
When stretched upon his grassy couch, alone,
It steals upon his ear,-this martial call
Prompts him to dreams of gorgeous war, with all
Its pageantry and show!"

Roll-roll!" What is it that ye beat ?"

"We sound the charge!-On with the courser fleet!-
Where, 'mid the columns, red war's eagles fly,
We swear to do or die!—

'Tis this which feeds the fires of fame with breath,
Which steels the soldier's heart to deeds of death;
And when his hand,

Fatigued with slaughter, pauses o'er the slain,
'Tis this which prompts him madly once again
To seize the bloody brand!"

Roll-roll!" Brothers, what do ye here,
Slowly and sadly as ye pass along,

With your dull march and low funereal song?"
"Comrade! we bear a bier!

I saw him fall!

And, as he lay beneath his steed, one thought,
(Strange how the mind such fancy should have wrought!)
That had he died beneath his native skies,
Perchance some gentle bride had closed his eyes,
And wept beside his pall!"

Ex. LIX.-OLD IRONSIDE S.

O. W. HOLMES.

AYE, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high;

Rioungs

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

has danced to see

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

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

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,—
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquered knee;
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

Oh! better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave:
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail;
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!

Ex. LX.-ROYAL IGNORANCE.

As want of candor really is not right,
I own my satire too inclined to bite:

On kings behold it breakfast, dine, and sup-
Now shall she praise, and try to make it up.

Why will the simple world expect wise things,
From lofty folk, particularly kings?

Look on their poverty of education!
Adored and flattered, taught that they are gods,
And by their awful frowns and nods,

Jove-like, to shake the pillars of creation!

They scorn that little useful imp called mind,
Who fits them for the circle of mankind!

WOLCOT.

Pride their companion, and the world their hate;
Immured, they doze in ignorance and state.

Sometimes, indeed, great kings will condescend
A little with their subjects to unbend!

An instance take:-A king of this great land,
In days of yore, we understand,

Did visit Salisbury's old church so fair:

An Earl of Pembroke was the monarch's guide; Incog. they traveled, shuffling side by side; And into the cathedral stole the pair.

The verger met them in his blue silk gown,

And humbly bowed his neck with reverence down, Low as an ass to lick a lock of hay:

Looking the frightened verger through and through, And with his eye-glass-" Well, sir, who are you? What, what, sir ?-hey, sir ?" deigned the king to say.

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I am the verger here, most mighty king:

In this cathedral I do every thing;

Sweep it, an't please ye, sir, and keep it clean." "Hey? verger! verger!-you the verger ?-hey?" "Yes, please your glorious majesty, I be,"

The verger answered, with the mildest mien.

Then turned the king about toward the peer,
And winked, and laughed, then whispered in his ear,
"Hey, hey-what, what-fine fellow, 'pon my word:
I'll knight him, knight him, knight him-hey, my lord ?"
Then with his glass, as hard as eye could strain,
He kenned the trembling verger o'er again.

"He's a poor verger, sire," his lordship cried:

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Sixpence would handsomely requite him.”

"Poor verger, verger, hey?" the king replied:
"No, no, then, we won't knight him-no, won't
knight him."

Now to the lofty roof the king did raise
His glass, and skipped it o'er with sounds of praise!
For thus his marveling majesty did speak:
"Fine roof this, Master Verger, quite complete;
High-high and lofty too, and clean, and neat:
What, verger, what? mop, mop it once a week?"

"An't please your majesty," with marveling chops,
The verger answered, "we have got no mops

In Salisbury that will reach so high." "Not mop, no, no, not mop it," quoth the king"No, sir, our Salisbury mops do no such thing;

They might as well pretend to scrub the sky."

Ex. LXI.-INDIAN TRADITION OF THE ORIGIN OF

MAIZE.

LONGFELLOW.

HOMEWARD weeping went Nokomis,

Sorrowing for her Hiawatha,

Fearing lest his strength should fail him,
Lest his fasting should be fatal.
He meanwhile sat weary waiting
For the coming of Mondamin,
Till the shadows, pointing eastward,
Lengthened over field and forest,
Till the sun dropped from the heaven,
Floating on the waters westward,
As a red leaf in the autumn
Falls and floats upon the water,
Falls and sinks into its bosom.

And behold! the young Mondamin,
With his soft and shining tresses,
With his garments green and yellow,
With his long and glossy plumage,
Stood and beckoned at the doorway,
And as one in slumber walking,
Pale and haggard, but undaunted,
From the wigwam Hiawatha
Came and wrestled with Mondamin.
Round about him spun the landscape,
Sky and forest reeled together,

And his strong heart leaped within him,
As the sturgeon leaps and struggles
In a net to break its meshes.

Like a ring of fire around him
Blazed and flared the red horizon,
And a hundred suns seemed looking
At the combat of the wrestlers.
Suddenly upon the greensward
All alone stood Hiawatha,