GENERAL JOSEPH REED; OR, THE INCORRUPTIBLE PATRIOT.-By Rev. Edward C. Jones. Governor Johnstone is said to have offered Gen. Joseph Reed £10,000 sterling, if he would try to re-unite the colonies to the mother country. Said he, "I am not worth purchasing; but, such as I am, the King of Great Britain is not rich enough to buy me." I SPURN your gilded bait, oh, King, my faith you cannot buy; Carlisle and Eden may consort to bring about a peace; What said our noble Laurens? What answer did he make? Are ye afraid of Bourbon's house? And do ye now despair, And art thou, Johnstone, art thou, pray, upon this mission sent, Why, English hearts there are at home, that pulsate with our own. You say that office shall be mine, if I the traitor play; Ten thousand pounds! ten thousand pounds! Shall I an Esau prove, And for a mess of pottage sell the heritage I love? If you can blot out Bunker Hill, or Brandywine ignore, Or Valley Forge annihilate, and wipe away its gore; If you can make the orphans' tears forget to plead with God, The King of England cannot buy the faith which fills my heart; LIBERTY AND UNION.-Webster. I PROFESS, sir, in my carcer hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our federal union. It is to that union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That union we reached, only by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings; and, although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all, a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds that unite us together, shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the union should be preserved, but, how tolerable might be the condition of the people, when it shall be broken up and destroyed. While the union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that, I seek not to penetrate the vail. God grant, that in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant, that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time, the sun ic heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious union; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre; not 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 delusion and folly: Liberty first, and union afterwards; but everywhere, spread all over in charao ters 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 in separable! THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY.-By G. W. Palten. BLAZE, with your serried columns! I've scared ye in the city, I've scalped ye on the plain; Go, count your chosen, where they fell I scorn your proffered treaty! Revenge is stamped upon my spear, Some strike for hope of booty, Ye've trailed me through the forest, I loathe ye in my bosom, And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath, I ne'er will ask ye quarter, And I ne'er will be your slave; THE VAGABONDS.—By J. T. Trowbridge. We are two travellers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog:- Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, (This out-door business is bad for strings,) Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings! No, thank ye, Sir,-I never drink; Roger and I are exceedingly moral, Aren't we, Roger ?-see him wink! Well, something hot, then, we won't quarrel. He's thirsty, too,-see him nod his head? What a pity, Sir, that dogs can't talk! He understands every word that's said,— And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. The truth is, Sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, Sir !) even of my dog. But he sticks by, through thick and thin; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving, To such a miserable thankless master! No, sir!-see him wag his tail and grin! We'll have some music, if you're willing, And Roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, Sir!) Shall march a little. Start, you villain! Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute your officer! Put up that paw! Dress! Take your rifle ! (Soine dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle, To aid a poor old patriot soldier! March! Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes, Five yelps, that's five; he's mighty knowing! Why not reform? That's easily said; But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant, And there are times when, mad with thinking, Is there a way to forget to think? At your age, Sir, home, fortune, friends, If you had seen her, so fair and yo ing, If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed That ever I, Sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog! She's married since,-a parson's wife: Than a blasted home and a broken heart. But little she drosmed, as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped! |