and he bravely determines to hurl all the vengeance of the Government at the unprotected head of an humble individual, who had nothing for his defence but the feeble barriers of Constitution, Treaty and Laws.

THE BLIND BOY.

BY FRANCIS L. HAWKS, D. D., LL. D.

It was a blessed summer day,

The floweret bloomed, the air was mild, The little birds poured forth their lay, And every thing in nature smiled.

In pleasant thought I wandered on Beneath the deep wood's ample shade, Till suddenly I came upon

Two children that had hither stray'd.

Just at an aged birch-tree's foot
A little girl and boy reclined,

His hand in hers she kindly put

And then I saw the boy was blind!

"Dear Mary," said the poor blind boy, "That little bird sings very long, Say, do you see him in his joy?

And is he pretty as his song?"

"Yes, Edward, yes," replied the maid, "I see the bird on yonder tree;'

The poor boy sighed and gently said"Sister, I wish that I could see."

"The flowers, you say are very fair,
And bright green leaves are on the trees,
And pretty birds are singing there-
How beautiful for one who sees!

"Yet I the fragrant flower can smell,
And I can feel the green leaf's shade,
And I can hear the notes that swell
From these dear birds that God has made.

"So Sister, God is kind to me,

Though sight, alas! he has not given;

But tell me, are there any blind
Among the children up in heaven?"

"No! dearest Edward, these all see!
But wherefore ask a thing so odd?"
"Oh! Mary, he's so good to me,
I thought I'd like to look at God."

Ere long, disease his hand had laid

On that dear boy so meek and mild; His widowed mother wept, and prayed That God would spare her sightless child.

He felt the warm tears on his face,
And said, "Oh, never weep for me,
I'm going to a bright, bright place,
Where, Mary says, I God shall see.

"And you'll come there, dear Mary, too,
And mother, when you get up there,
Tell Edward, mother that 'tis you-
You know I never saw you here."

He spoke no more, but sweetly smiled,
Until the final blow was given,

When God took up that poor blind child,

And opened first his eyes in Heaven.

EULOGY ON PRENTISS.

BY HON. HENRY A. BULLARD.

SARGEANT S. PRENTISS was a native of the State of Maine-the most northern part of the Union. Reasoning à priori, one would naturally suppose he would have possessed merely an understanding and judgment as solid and compact as the granite of her hills, and a temperament as cold as her climate. Who would have expect ed to find in a child of Maine, the fiery, inventive genius of an Arabian poet ?—an imagination as fertile in original and fantastical creations, as the author of the Thousand and One Nights? Let us not imagine that nature is so partial in the distribution of her gifts. The flora of more Southern climes is more gorgeous and variegated, but occasionally there springs up in the cold North, a flower of as delicate a perfume as any within the tropics. The heavens in the equatorial regions are bright with the golden radiance, and the meteors shoot with greater effulgence through