we shall find a last asylum, because we shall not have despaired of the truth, the justice, and the liberty of mankind. NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR,- Wirt. The education, moral and intellectual, of every individual, must be chiefly his own work. Rely upon it, that the ancients were right-Quisque suæ fortunæ faber -both in morals and intellect, we give their final shape to our own characters, and thus become, emphatically, the architects of our own fortunes. How else could it happen, that young men who have had precisely the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us with such different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies? Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference very often is in favor of the disappointed candidate. You shall see, issuing from the walls of the same college-nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family—two young men, of whom the one shall be admitted to be a genius of high order-the other scarcely above the point of mediocrity; yet you shall see the genius sinking and perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness; while, on the other hand, you shall observe the mediocre, plodding his slow but sure way, up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction, an ornament to his family, a blessing to his country. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their own. They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of learning that can open its portals to you, can do no more than to afford you the opportunity of instruction; but it must depend, at last, on yourselves, whether you will be instructed or not, or to what point you will push your instruction. And of this be assured -I speak from observation a certain truth: there is no excellence without great labor. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of genius can absolve you. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around a candle, till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the condor of South America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself at pleasure, in that empyreal region, with an energy rather invigorated than weakened by the effort. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exertion-this vigorous power of profound and searching investigation-this careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, and those long reaches of thought, that 65 -Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced-moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom line could never touch the ground, This is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements, which are to enroll your names among the great men of the earth. PIBLIC FAITH.-Fisher Ames. To expatiate on the value of public faith, may pass, with some men, for declamation. To such men I have nothing to say. To others, I will urge-can any cir cumstance mark upon a people more turpitude and debasement? Can anything tend more to make men think themselves mean, or degrade to a lower point, their estimation of virtue, and their standard of action? 2. It would not merely demoralize mankind, it tends to break all the ligaments of society, to dissolve that mysterious charm which attracts individuals to the nation, and to inspire, in its stead, a repulsive sense of shame and disgust. 3. What is patriotism? Is it a narrow affection for the spot where a man was born? Are the very clods where we tread entitled to this ardent preference, because they are greener? No, this is not the character of the virtue, and it soars higher for its object. It is an extended self-love, mingling with all the enjoyments of life, and twisting itself with the minutest filaments of the heart. 4. It is thus: we obey the laws of society, because they are the laws of virtue. In their authority we see, not the array of force and terror, but the venerable image of our country's honor. Every good citizen makes that honor his own, and cherishes it, not only as precious but as sacred. He is willing to risk his life in its defence, and is conscious that he gains protection while he gives it. For, what rights of a citizen will be deemed inviolable, when a state renounces the principles that constitute their security? 5. Or, if this life should not be invaded, what would its enjoyments be, in a country odious in the eyes of strangers, and dishonored in his own? Could he look with affection and veneration to such a country as his parent? The sense of having one would die within him; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained any, and justly, for it would be a vice. He would be a lanished man in his native land. THE RAINY DAY. LONGFELLOW. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary; My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Some days must be dark and dreary (JA TILINE DENOUNCED.-Cicero. Cicero, the greatest of Roman orators, was born at Arpinum, 108 B.C., two hundred and sixteen years after the death of Demosthe nes. Having taken part against Antony, after the assassination of Cæsar, Cicero was proscribed. He was murdered by a party of soldiers, headed by Popilius Lænas, whose life he had formerly saved by his eloquence; and his head and hands were publicly exhibited on the rostrum at Rome. He perished in his sixty-fourth year, 43 B.C. His writings are voluminous. As an orator, Cicero ranks next to Demosthenes; and his orations against Catiline and Verres are masterpieces of denunciatory eloquence. How far, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience? How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? To what extreme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch, posted to secure the Palātĭum? Nothing, by the city guards? Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens? Nothing, by the assembling of the Senate in this fortified place? Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou not that all thy plots are exposed ?—that thy wretched conspiracy is laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the Senate ?--that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the night before;-the place of meeting, the company convoked, the measures concerted? Alas, the times! Alas, the public morals! The Senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the traitor lives! Lives? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in council,-takes part in our deliberations,--and, with his measuring eye, marks out each man of us for slaughter! And we, all this while, strenuous that we are, think we have amply dis |