For a cen

and no one was deemed worthy to finish his work. tury the republic sought far and near, but an architect able thus to give glory to Florence and Italy could not be found.

Meanwhile absurd projects were multiplied. Some proposed a dome supported by a central pillar; but it was voted that a dome which must forever be artificially supported, is but a poor, sickly no-dome. Others proposed a dome of pumicestone; but it was voted, that when a great republic rears a mighty monument for the ages, it must not be of pumice-stone. Others still proposed to heap up a mountain of earth tɔ, scatter coins therein, to round off its summit, to build the dome upon this as a support, and then to admit swarms of beggars, who should carry away the mountain of earth to sift it for its money. This was voted impracticable.

At last a plain workman, strong only in sturdy sense and a knowledge of his art, proposed to rear the great fabric of marble, and by appliances simple and natural. He was set at the work.

Then began the rage of rival architects. They derided his plans, seduced his workmen, stole his tools, undermined the confidence of the people. But still that plain, strong man wrought on, ever steadily, ever earnestly.

Day by day the glorious creation rose; day by day some stone was added to give it height or mass; day by day some shrewd plan was struck to give it strength or symmetry, until it towered complete, a wondrous monument to Brunelleschi, to Florence, and to Italy.

So in this glorious fabric of a restored Union. The work is mighty; the chief architect is but a plain man. The envious cavil, and the malignant howl. But, day by day, the structure rises; its foundations GREAT TRUTHS, far more lasting than mere granite; its pillars GREAT RIGHTS, far more beautiful than mere porphyry; its roof GREAT HOPES, swelling higher than any dome of bronze and gold. And from its summit shall come light, beaming brighter, flashing farther, than any ever flung into serf's eyes from crown diamonds; for it shall reflect that light of liberty and justice which cometh from the very throne of the Almighty.

THE ISLE OF LONG AGO.

B. F. TAYLOR.

Oh, a wonderful stream is the river of Time,
As it runs through the realm of tears,
With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme,
And a boundless sweep and a surge sublime,
As it blends with the Ocean of Years.

How the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow,
And the summers, like buds between ;

And the year in the sheaf-so they come and they go,
On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow,
As it glides in the shadow and sheen.

There's a magical Isle up the river of Time,
Where the softest of airs are playing;
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime,
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime,

And the Junes with the roses are staying.

And the name of that Isle is the Long Ago,
And we bury our treasures there;

There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow-
There are heaps of dust-but we loved them so !-
There are trinkets and tresses of hair;

There are fragments of song that nobody sings,
And a part of an infant's prayer,

There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings ;
There are broken vows and pieces of rings,

And the garments that she used to wear.

There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore
By the mirage is lifted in air;

And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar,
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before,
When the wind down the river is fair.

Oh, remembered for aye, be the blessed Isle,
All the day of our life till night-

When the evening comes with its beautiful smile,
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile,
May that "Greenwood" of Soul be in sight!

STICK TOGETHER.

ANONYMOUS.

When midst the wreck of fire and smoke,
When cannons rend the skies asunder,
And fierce dragoons with quickening stroke
Upon the reeling regiments thunder,
The ranks close up to sharp command,
Till helmet's feather touches feather;
Compact the furious shock they stand,

And conquer; for they stick together!

When now, 'mid clouds of woe and want,
Our comrades' wails rise fast and faster,
And charging madly on our front

Come the black legions of disaster,

Shall we present a wavering band

And fly like leaves before wild weather?

No side by side and hand in hand,

We'll stand our ground and stick together!

God gave us hands-one left, one right;
The first to help ourselves, the other
To stretch abroad in kindly might,
To help along our faithful brother.

Then if you see a brother fall,

And bow his head before the weather, If you be not a dastard all,

You'll help him up and stick together!

MINE SCHILDHOOD.

66

AUTHOR OF LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS.

Der schiltren dhey vas poot in ped,
All tucked oup for der nighdt:
I dakes mine pipe der mandel off,
Und py der fireside pright,

I dinks aboudt vehn I vas young-
Off moder, who vas tead,

Und how at nighdt-like I do Hans-
She tucked me oup in ped.

I mindt me off mine fader, too,
Und how he yoost to say,
"Poor poy, you haf a hardt oldt row
To hoe, und leetle blay."

I find me oudt dot it vas drue

Vot mine olt fader said,

Vhile smoothing down mine flaxen hair
Und tucking me in ped.

Der oldt folks! Id vas like a dhream
To spheak off dhem like dot,
Gretchen und I vas "oldt folks " now

Und haf two schiltren got.
Ve lofes dhem more as nefer vas,

Each leedle curly head,

Und efry nighdt ve dakes dhem oup
Und tucks dhem in dheir ped.

Bout dhen, somedimes, ven I feel plue,
Und all dings lonesome seem,

I vish I vas dot poy again,

Und dis vas all a dhream.

I vant to kiss mine moder vonce,
Und vhen mine brayer vas said,
To haf mine fader dake me oup
Und tuck me in mine ped.

DEFENCE OF A CLIENT.

S. S. PRENTISS.

It is said that my client had no right to interfere in defence of his brother; so says the commonwealth's attorney. Go, gentlemen, and ask your mothers and sisters whether that be law. I refer you to no musty tomes, but to the living volumes of nature. What! a man not permitted to defend his brother against conspirators? against assassins, who are crushing out the very life of their bruised and powerless victim? Why, he who would shape his conduct by such a principle does not deserve to have a brother or a friend.

To fight for self is but the result of an honest instinct, which we have in common with the brutes. To defend those who are dear to us, is the highest exercise of the principle of selfdefence. It nourishes all the noblest social qualities, and constitutes the germ of patriotism itself.

Why is the step of the Kentuckian free as that of the bounding deer; firm, manly, and confident as that of the Macgregor when his foot was on the heather of his native hills, and his eye on the peak of Ben Lomond? It is because he feels independent and proud; independent in the knowledge of his rights, proud in the generous consciousness of ability and courage to defend them, not only in his own person, but in the persons of those who are dear to him.

It was not the blood that would desert a brother or a friend, which swelled the hearts of your fathers in the "olden time," when, in defence of those they loved, they sought the red savage through all the fastnesses of his native forest. It was not such blood that was poured out, free as a gushing torrent, upon the dark banks of the melancholy Raisin, when all Kentucky armed her warrior sires. They were as bold and true as ever fought beneath a plume. The Roncesvalles pass, when fell before the opposing lance the harnessed chivalry of Spain, looked not upon a braver or a better band

Kentucky has no law which precludes a man from defending himself, his brother, or his friend. Better for my client had he never been born, than that he should have failed in his duty on this occasion.