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The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;

Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim:

And when Lord Marmion reached his band
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,

And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

"Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!"
But soon he reined his fury's pace:
"A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name.
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas' blood;
I thought to slay him where he stood.
'Tis pity of him, too," he cried;
"Bold he can speak, and fairly ride;
I warrant him a warrior tried."
With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.

- From "Marmion."

NOTES. In the poem from which this extract is taken, Marmion is represented as an embassador sent by Henry VIII., king of England, to James IV., king of Scotland, with whom he was at war. Having finished his mission to James, Marmion was intrusted to the protection and hospitality of Douglas, one of the Scottish nobles. Douglas entertained him, treated him with the respect due to his office and to the honor of his sovereign, yet he despised his private character. Marmion perceived this, and took umbrage at it, though he attempted to repress his resentment, and desired to part in peace. Under these circumstances the scene, as described in this sketch, takes place.

Tantallon is the name of the Douglas castle at Bothwell, Scotland.

THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE.

BY GEORGE W. DOANE.

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE INTELLIGENT MEN. I do not mean that they must know that two and two make four; or, that six per cent a year is half per cent a month. I take a wider and a higher range. I limit myself to no mere utilitarian intelligence. This has its place. And this will come almost unsought. The contact of the rough and rugged world will force men to it in self-defense. The lust of worldly gain will drag men to it for self-aggrandizement. But men so made will never make a state. The intelligence which that demands will take a wider and a higher range. Its study will be man. It will make history its cheap experience.

It will first know

It will read hearts. It will know men. itself. What else can govern men ? Who else can know the men to govern men? The right of suffrage is a fearful thing. It calls for wisdom, and discretion, and intelligence, of no ordinary standard. It takes in, at every exercise, the interests of all the nation. Its results reach forward through time into eternity. Its discharge must be accounted for among the dread responsibilities of the great day of judgment. Who will go to it blindly? Who will go to it passionately? Who will go to it as a sycophant, a tool, a slave? How many do! These are not the men to make a state.

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE HONEST MEN. I do not mean men that would never steal. I do not mean men that would scorn to cheat in making change. I mean men with a single face. I mean men with a single eye. I mean men with a single tongue. I mean

men that consider always what is right; and do it at whatever cost. I mean men who can dine, like Andrew Marvel, on a neck of mutton; and whom, therefore, no king on earth can buy. Men that are in the market for the highest bidder; men that make politics their trade, and look to office for a living; men that will crawl, where they cannot climb, these are not the men to make a state.

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE BRAVE MEN. I do not mean the men that pick a quarrel. I do not mean the men that carry dirks. I do not mean the men that call themselves hard names; as Bouncers, Killers, and the like. I mean the men that walk with open face and unprotected breast. I mean the men that do, but do not talk. I mean the men that dare to stand alone. I mean the men that are to-day where they were yesterday, and will be there to-morrow. I mean the men that can stand still and take the storm. to kill, but not afraid to names and uses threats; the man that stabs, in secret, with his tongue or with his pen; the man that moves a mob to deeds of violence and self-destruction; the man that freely offers his last drop of blood, but never sheds the first, - these are not the men to make a state.

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I mean the men that are afraid die. The man that calls hard

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE RELIGIOUS MEN. States are from God. States are dependent upon God. States are accountable to God. I do not mean that men must cant. I do not mean that men must wear long faces. I do not mean that man must talk of conscience, while they take your spoons. One shrewdly called hypocrisy the tribute which vice pays to virtue. These masks and vizors, in like manner, are the forced concession which a moral nature makes to him whom, at the same time, it

I

dishonors. I speak of men who feel and own a God. speak of men who feel and own their sins. I speak of men who think the Cross no shame. I speak of men who have it in their heart as well as on their brow. The men that never pray, are not the men to make a state.

Both

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, ARE MADE BY FAITH. A man that has no faith is so much flesh. His heart a muscle; nothing more. He has no past, for reverence; no future, for reliance. He lives. So does a clam. die. Such men can never make a state. There must be faith, which furnishes the fulcrum Archimedes could not find for the long lever that should move the world. There must be faith to look through clouds and storms up to the sun that shines as cheerily on high as on creation's morn. There must be faith that can lay hold on Heaven, and let the earth swing from beneath it, if God will. There must be faith that can afford to sink the present in the future; and let time go, in its strong grasp upon eternity. This is the way that men are made, to make a state.

THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, ARE MADE BY SELFDENIAL. The willow dallies with the water, and is fanned forever by its coolest breeze, and draws its waves up in continual pulses of refreshment and delight; and is a willow, after all. An acorn has been loosened, some autumnal morning, by a squirrel's foot. It finds a nest in some rude cleft of an old granite rock, where there is scarcely earth to cover it. It knows no shelter, and it feels no shade. It squares itself against the storms. shoulders through the blast. It asks no favor, and gives

none.

the sun.

It

It grapples with the rock. It crowds up toward
It is an oak. It has been seventy years an oak.

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