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ELOQUENCE.--LEWIS Cass. What country ever offered a nobler theatre for the display of eloquence than our own? From the primary assemblies of the people, where power is conferred, and may be retained, to the national legislature, where its highest attributes are deposited and exercised, all feel and acknowledge its influence.
The master spirits of our father-land, they who guided the councils of England in her career of prosperity and glory, whose eloquence was the admiration of their contemporaries, as it will be of posterity, were deeply imbued with classical learning. They drank at the fountain and not at the stream, and they led captive the public opinion of the empire, and asserted their dominion in the senate and the cabinet.
Nor have we been wanting in contribution to the general stock of eloquence. In our legislative assemblies, at the bar, and in the pulpit, many examples are before us, not less cheering in the rewards they offer than in the renown which follows them. And if our lamps are lighted at the altar of ancient and modern learning, we may hope that a sacred fire will be kept burning, to shed its influence upon our institutions and the duration of the Republic.
But after all, habits of mental and moral discipline are the first great objects in any system of instruction, public or private. The value of education depends far less upon varied and extensive acquirements than upon the cultivation of just powers of thought and the general regulation of the faculties of the understanding. That it is not the amount of knowledge, but the capacity to apply it, which promises success and usefulness in life, is a truth that cannot be too often inculcated by instructors and recollected by pupils.
If youth are taught how to think, they will soon learn what to think. Exercise is not more necessary to a healthful state of the body than is the employment of the various faculties of the mind to mental efficiency. The practical sciences are as barren of useful products as the speculative, where facts only are the objects of knowledge, unless the understanding is habituated to a continued process of examination and reflection.
No precocity of intellect, no promise of genius, no extent of knowledge, can be weighed in the scale with those acquisitions. But he who has been the object of such sedulous attention, and the subject of such a course of instruction, may enter upon the great duties of life with every prospect of an honorable and useful career. His armor is girded on for battle. However difficult the conjuncture in which he may be called on to act, he is prepared for whatever may betide him.
VAT HAVE I GOT TO PAY?-W. H. FREEMAN,
But should I chance somehow to run aground,
gone? Ten pounds for that old shabby hat alone.” “Ten pound!” bawls Jack, "and just what I have said, Or not for you the hat comes off my head.” The Jew then gave the watch, besides ten pounds, And scarcely could he keep his joy in bounds.
At the first inn, he stops and takes a chair,
DERMOT'S PARTING. Ob waken up, my darlin'—my Dermot, it is day, Thoday, when from the mother's eyes the real light dies away; For what will daylight be to me that never more will see The fair face of my Dermot come smilin' back to me? Arise, my son, the morning red is wearing fast away, And through the gray mist I can see the masts rock in the bay. Before the sea-fog clears the hill, my darlin' must departBut oh, the cloud will never lift that wraps the mother's
heart! Sure, then, I'm old and foolish; what's this I'm saying now? Will I see my fair son leave me with a shadow on his brow? Oh, no! we'll bear up bravely, and make no stir, nor moan; There will be time for weepin' when my fair son shall be gone. I've laid the old coat ready, dear; my pride this day has been That on your poor apparel shall no rent nor stain be seen. And let me tie that 'kerchief, too; it's badly done, I fear, But
my old hands tremble sadly, with the hurry, Dermot, dear. And are you ready, darlin'? Turn round and bid farewell To the roof-tree of the cabin that has sheltered us so well; Leave a blessing on the threshold, and on the old hearth.
stone,'Twill be a comfort to my heart when I sit there alone. And often at the twilight hour, when day and work are done, I'll dream the old time's back again, when you were there,
my son, When you were there, a little thing that prattled at my knee, Long ere the evil days had come to part my child and me. The dear arm is still round me, the dear hand guides me still; 'Tis but a little step to go—see, now we've gained the hill; Is that the vessel, Dermot, dear?—the mist my eyesight dimsOh, shame upon me now! what means this trembling in my
limbs? My child! my child! oh, let me weep awhile upon your breast; Would I were in my grave! for then my heart would be at
rest; But now the hour is come, and I must stand upon the shore And see the treasure of my soul depart for evermore! I know, my child !-I know it, the folly and the sin,But oh! I think my heart would burst to keep this anguish
in, To think how in yon sleeping town such happy mothers be, Who keep their many sons at home, wbile 1-1 had but theel But I have done; I murmur not; I kiss the chastening rod. Upon this hill-as Abraham did--I give my child to Godi But not, like him, to welcome back the precious thing once
given; I'll see my fair son's face again—but not on this side heaven !
That the next sun
For any one,
What should I do?