object of our contest shall be obtained-we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us.

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.

Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it

come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and

slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!

-Patrick Henry

Words: illusions-delusions, false impressions; arduous-difficult; solace comfort; House-House of Burgesses, the lower house of the Virginia legislature; insidious-crafty, with intent to deceive; comports-fits in with; subjugation-absolute control; interposition— assistance; inviolate-unbroken, uninjured; inestimable-above all price; formidable-powerful; supinely-heedlessly; invincible-unconquerable; election choice; extenuate to represent as less serious than it is.

Questions: What does Patrick Henry call hope in his second sentence? If you will recall Kingsley's The Argonauts, you will understand Henry's meaning in this sentence. Can you find in the second paragraph an indication that Henry was familiar with the Bible? Whom does Henry mean by gentlemen? sir? How long after this speech was delivered before the battles of Lexington and Concord took place? How about Henry's prophecy in the last paragraph? Will some pupil memorize this speech, or a portion of it, and deliver it to the class?

A PRAYER FOR OUR COUNTRY

A

ND Thou, O God, of whom we hold

Our country and our Freedom fair,
Within Thy tender love enfold

This land; for all Thy people care.
Uplift our hearts above our fortunes high,
Let not the good we have make us forget
The better things that in Thy heavens lie!
Keep, still, amid the fever and the fret
Of all this eager life, our thoughts on Thee,
The Hope, the Strength, the God of all the Free.
-Bishop J. L. Spalding

THE PAINTER OF SEVILLE*

(Spain has produced two great artists-Valasquez and Murillo. These two great painters lived at the same time and were personal friends. Murillo was born in Seville in 1618. After gaining skill and fame at Madrid he returned to Seville and spent the remainder of his life there.

This story may or may not have a foundation in fact. It is certain that none of Murillo's pupils ever surpassed him, but the story may well be true in all other respects.)

WAS morning in Seville; and brightly beamed

TWA

The early sunlight in one chamber there;

Showing where'er its glowing radiance gleamed,
Rich, varied beauty. "Twas the study where
Murillo, the famed painter, came to share,

о

With young aspirants, his long-cherished art,

The language of the soul, the feeling of the heart.

The pupils came, and glancing round,
Mendez upon his canvas found,
Not his own work of yesterday,
But, glowing in the morning ray,

A sketch, so rich, so pure, so bright,

It almost seemed that there were given
To glow before his dazzled sight,

Tints and expression warm from heaven.
"Twas but a sketch-the Virgin's head-
Yet was unearthly beauty shed
Upon the mildly beaming face;
The lip, the eye, the flowing hair,

Had separate, yet blended grace—

An artist's brightest dream was there!

Murillo entered, and amazed,

On the mysterious painting gazed;

"Whose work is this?-speak, tell me!—h
Who to his aid such power can call,"

Exclaimed the teacher eagerly,
"Will yet be master of us all;
Would I had done it!-Ferdinand!
Isturitz!* Mendez !*-say, whose hand
Among ye all?" With half-breathed sigh,
Each pupil answered, "Twas not I!"

"How came it then?" impatiently
Murillo cried; "but we shall see,
Erelong into this mystery.
Sebastian!"

At the summons came

A bright-eyed slave,

Who trembled at the stern rebuke

His master gave.

For, ordered in that room to sleep,
And faithful guard o'er all to keep,
Murillo bade him now declare

What strange intruder had been there,
And threatened-if he did not tell
The truth at once-the dungeon-cell.
"Thou answerest not," Murillo said;
(The boy had stood in speechless fear.)
"Speak on!" At last he raised his head
And murmured, "No one has been here."
""Tis false!" Sebastian bent his knee,
And clasped his hands imploringly,
And said, "I swear it, none but me!"

"List!" said his master. "I would know
Who enters here-there have been found
Before, rough sketches strewn around,
By whose bold hand, 'tis yours to show;
See that to-night strict watch you keep,
Nor dare to close your eyes in sleep.