a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured-bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, What is all this worth? nor those other words of delu sion and folly, Liberty first, and Union afterwards; but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true American heart,—Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!

BEAUTY, WIT, AND GOLD.-Anonym‹ us.
In her bower a widow dwelt ;
At her feet, three suitors knelt;
Each adored the widow much,
Each essayed her heart to touch;
One had wit, and one had gold,
And one was cast in beauty's mould;
Guess which was it won the prize,
Purse, or tongue, or handsome eyes?
First appeared the handsome man,
Proudly peeping o'er her fan;
Red his lips, and white his skin;
Could such beauty fail to win?
Then stepped forth the man of gold,
Cash he counted, coin he told,
Wealth the burden of his tale;
Could such golden projects fail?
Then the man of wit and sense,
Moved her with his eloquence;

Now she heard him with a sigh ;

Now she blushed, she knew not why;
Then she smiled to hear him speak,
Then the tear was on her cheek;
Beauty, vanish! gold, depart!
Wit has won the widow's heart.

ADVICE.-Shakespeare.

Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Beware

Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar; but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul, with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of ev'ry new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade.
Of entrance into quarrel! but, being in,
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice.
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit, as thy purse can buy,

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all-to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

SATAN'S SUPPOSED SPEECH TO HIS LEGIONS.-Milton.

Princes, Potentates,

Warriors, the flower of Heaven! once yours, now lost,

If such astonishment as this can seize

Eternal spirits; or have ye chosen this place,
After the toil of battle, to repose

Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?

Or, in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the conqueror? who now beholds
Cherub, and seraph, rolling in the flood,
With scatter'd arms and ensigns; till anon
His swift pursuers, from Heaven's gates discern
The advantage, and descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts,
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be forever fallen!

TERROR.-Moliere.

Ah! mercy on my soul. What is that? My old friend's ghost? They say none but wicked folks walk; I wish I were at the bottom of a coal-pit. See! how Long and pale his face has grown since his death; he never was handsome; and death has improved him very much the wrong way. Pray do not come near me! I wished you very well when you were alive, but I could never abide a dead man, cheek by jowl with me. Ah, ah, mercy or us! No nearer, pray; if it be only to take

leave of me, that you are come back, I could have excused you the ceremony with all my heart; or, if youmercy on us! no nearer, pray, or, if you have wronged anybody, as you always loved money a little, I give you the word of a frightened christian; I will pray as long as you please for the deliverance, or repose of your de parted soul. My good, worthy, noble friend, do, pray disappear, as eve. you would wish your old friend to come to his senses again.

NATIONAL UNION.-Morris.

Do not, gentlemen, suffer the rage of passion to drive reason from her seat. If this law be indeed bad, let u join to remedy its defects. Has it been passed in a manner which wounded your pride, or roused your re sentment? Have, I conjure you, the magnanimity to pardon that offence. I entreat, I implore you, to sacri fice those angry passions to the interests of our country. Pour out this pride of opinion on the altar of patriotism. Let it be an expiatory libation for the weal of America. Do not suffer that pride to plunge us all into the abyss of ruin. Indeed, indeed, it will be but of little, very little avail, whether one opinion or the other be right or wrong; it will heal no wounds, it will pay no debts, it will rebuild no ravaged towns. Do not rely on that popular will, which has brought us frail beings into political existence. That opinion is but a changeable thing. It will soon change. This very measure will change it. You will be deceived. Do not, I beseech you, in reliance on a foundation so frail, commit the

dignity, the harmony, the existence of our nation to the wild wind. Trust not your treasure to the waves. Throw not your compass and your charts into the ocean. Do not believe that its billows will waft you into port. Indeed, indeed, you will be deceived. Cast not away this only anchor of our safety. I have seen its progress. I know the difficulties through which it was obtained. I stand in the presence of Almighty God and of the world. I declare to you, that if you lose this charter, never, no never, will you get another. We are now perhaps arrived at the parting point. Here, even here, we stand on the brink of fate. Pause, then-pause. For Heaven's sake, pause.

SUBLIMITY OF MOUNTAIN SCENERY.-Croly.

Of all the sights that nature offers to the eye and mind of man, mountains have always stirred my strongest feel · ings. I have seen the ocean, when it was turned up from the bottom by tempest, and noon was like night, with the conflict of the billows, and the storm, that tore and scattered them in mist and foam across the sky. I have seen the desert rise around me, and calmly, in the midst of thousands, uttering cries of horror, and paralyzed by fear, have contemplated the sandy pillars, coming like the advance of some gigantic city of confiagration flying across the wilderness, every column glowing with intense fire, and every blast death; the sky vaulted with gloom, the earth a furnace. But with me, the mountain, in tempest or in calm, the throne of the thunder, or with the evening sun painting its dells and