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t an epic, and deny it to the creator of a country? On what principle is it to be lavished on him who sculptures in perishing marble the image of possible excellence, and withheld from him who built up in himself a transcendent character, indestructible as the obligations of duty, and beautiful as her rewards?

Indeed, if by the genius of action, you mean will enlightened by intelligence, and intelligence energized by will, if force and insight be its characteristics, and influence its test, and if great effects suppose a cause proportionally great, a vital, causative mind, then was Washington most assuredly a man of genius, and one whom no other American has equaled in the power of working morally and mentally on other minds. His genius was of a peculiar kind, the genius of character, of thought, and the objects of thought solidified and concentrated into active faculty. He belongs to that rare class of men, - rare as Homers and Miltons, ra as Platos and Newtons, who have impressed their characters upon nations without pampering national vices. Such men have natures broad enough to include all the facts of a people's practical life, and deep enough to discern the spiritual laws which underlie, animate, and govern those facts.

EDWIN P. WHIPPLE.

CHALMERS ON WAR.

I AVOW it. On every side of me I see causes at work, which go to spread a most delusive coloring over war, and to remove its shocking barbarities to the background of our contemplations altogether. I see it in the history which tells me of the superb appearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it in the poetry which lends the magic of its numbers to the narrative of blood, and transports its many admirers, as by its images, and its figures, and its nodding plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellishments over a sceno of legalized slaughter.

I see it in the music which represents the progress of the battle; and where, after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room are seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment; nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of the wounded men, as they fade away upon the ear, and sink into lifeless silence. All, all goes to prove what strange and half-sighted creatures

we are.

Were it not so, war could never have been seen in any

other aspect thar. that of unmingled hatefulness; and I can look to nothing but to the progress of Christian sentiment upon earth. to arrest the strong current of its popular and prevailing partiality for war.

Then only will an imperious sense of duty lay the check of severe principle on all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the wakeful benevolence of the gospel, chasing away every spell, will be turned by the treachery of no delusion whatever, from its simple but sublime enterprises for the good of the species. Then the reign of truth and quietness will be ushered into the world, and war, cruel, atrocious, unrelenting war, will be stripped of its many and its bewildering fascinations.

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND

In

THERE lies upon the other side of the wide Atlantic a beautiful island, famous in story and in song. It has given to the world more than its share of genius and of greatness. It has been prolific in statesmen, warriors, and poets. Its brave and generous sons have fought successfully in all battles but its own. wit and humor it has no equal; while its harp, like its history, moves to tears by its sweet but melancholy pathos. In this fair region God has seen fit to send the most terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfill his inscrutable decrees. The earth has failed to give her increase; the common mother has forgotten her offspring, and her breast no longer affords them their accustomed nourishment. Famine, gaunt and ghastly famine, has seized a nation with its strangling grasp; and unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes of the present, forgets, for a moment, the gloomy history of the past.

In battle, in the fullness of his pride and strength, little recks the soldier whether the hissing bullet sing his sudden requiem, or the cords of life are severed by the sharp steel. But he who dies of hunger, wrestles alone, day after day, with his grim and unrelenting enemy. He has no friends to cheer him in the terrible conflict; for if he had friends, how could he die of hunger? He has not the hot blood of the soldier to maintain him; for his foe, vampire-like, has exhausted his veins.

Who will hesitate to give his mite, to avert such awful results? Give, then, generously and freely. Recollect, that in so doing, you are exercising one of the most godlike qualities of your

nature, and at the same time enjoying one of the greatest luxuries
of life. We ought to thank our Maker that he has permitted
us to exercise equally with himself that noblest of even the
Divine attributes, benevolence. Go home and look at your
families, smiling in rosy health, and then think of the pale, fam-
ine-pinched cheeks of the poor children of Ireland; and you will
give, according to your store, even as a bountiful Providence has
given to you
not grudgingly, but with an open hand; for the
quality of benevolence, like that of mercy,
"Is not strained;

It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven,
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed;
It blesses him that gives, and him that takes."

S. S. PRENTISS.

CICERO FOR MILO.

BUT if, my lords, you are not yet convinced, though the thing shines out with such strong and full evidence, that Milo returned to Rome with an innocent mind, unstained with guilt, undisturbed by fear, and free from the accusations of conscience; call to mind, I beseech you by the immortal gods, the expedition with which he came back, his entrance into the forum while the senate-house was in flames, the greatness of soul he discovered, the look he assumed, the speech he made on the occasion. He delivered himself up, not only to the people, but even to the senate; nor to the senate alone, but even to guards appointed for the public security; nor merely to them, but even to the authority of him whom the senate had intrusted with the care of the whole republic; to whom he would never have delivered himself, if he had not been confident of the goodness of his cause.

What now remains, but to beseech and adjure you, my lords, to extend that compassion to a brave man, which he disdains to implore, but which I, even against his consent, implore and earnestly intreat. Though you have not seen him shed a single tear while all are weeping around him; though he has preserved the same steady countenance, the same firmness of voice and language; do not on this account withhold it from him.

Ŏn you, on you I call, ye heroes, who have lost so much blood in the service of your country! to you, ye centurions, ye soldiers, I appeal in this hour of danger to the best of men, and braves' of citizers? While you are looking on, while you stand here witb

arms in your hands, and guard this tribunal, shall virtue like th be expelled, exterminated, cast out with dishonor? By the im mortal gods, I wish (pardon me, O my country! for I fear what I shall say out of a pious regard for Milo may be deemed impiety against thee) that Clodius not only lived, but were prætor, consul, dictator, rather than be witness to such a scene as this. Shall this man, then, who was born to save his country, die any where but in his country? Shall he not at least die in the service of his country? Will you retain the memorials of his gal lant soul, and deny his body a grave in Italy? Will any person give his voice for banishing a man from this city, whom every city on earth would be proud to receive within its walls? Happy the country that shall receive him! ungrateful this if it shall banish him! wretched, if it should lose him! But I must conclude my tears will not allow me to proceed, and Milo forbids tears to be employed in his defense. You, my lords, I beseech and adjure, that, in your decision, you would dare to act as you think. Trust me, your fortitude, your justice, your fidelity, will more especially be approved of by him, (Pompey), who in his choice of judges has raised to the bench the bravest, the wisest, and the best of men.

DEMOSTHENES TO THE ATHENIANS.

SUCH, O men of Athens ! were your ancestors: so glorious m the eye of the world; so bountiful and munificent to their country; so sparing, so modest, so self-denying to themselves. What resemblance can we find, in the present generation, of these great men. At a time when your ancient competitors have left you a clear stage; when the Lacedemonians are disabled, the Thebans employed in troubles of their own; when no other state whatever is in a condition to rival or molest you; in short, when you are at full liberty; when you have the opportunity and the power to become once more the sole arbiters of Greece; you permit, patiently, whole provinces to be wrested from you; you lavish the public money in scandalous and obscure uses; you suffer your allies to perish in time of peace, whom you preserved in time of war; and, to sum up all, you yourselves, by your mercenary court, and servile resignation to the will and pleasure of designing, insidious leaders, abet, encourage, and strengthen the most dangerous and formidable of your enemies. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers of

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your own ruin Lives there a man who has confidence enough to dery it? Let him arise, and assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip. "But," you reply, “what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater appearance of prosperity; a greater face of plenty? Is not the city enlarged? the streets better paved, houses repaired and beautified?" Away with such trifles! Shall I be paid with counters ? An old square new-vamped up! a fountain! an aqueduct ! are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eyes upon the magistrate ander whose ministry you boast these precious improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, all at once, from dirt to opulence; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honors. Have not some of these upstarts built private houses and seats vieing with the most sumptuous of our public palaces? And how have their fortunes and their power increased, but as the commonwealth has been ruined and impoverished.

master.

To what are we to impute these disorders; and to what cause assign the decay of a state so powerful and flourishing in past times? The reason is plain. The servant is now become the The magistrate was then subservient to the people punishments and rewards were properties of the people; all honors, dignities, and preferments, were disposed by the voice and favor of the people; but, the magistrate now has usurped the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary authority over his ancient and natural lord. You, miserable people! (the meanwhile, without money, without friends,) from being ruler, are become the servant; from being the master, the dependent: happy that these governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your own power, are so good and so gracious as te continue your allowance to see plays.

SALATHIEL TO TITUS.

Sox of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man, as I may in the next be an exile or a slave: I have ties to life as strong as ever were bound round the heart of man: I stand here a suppliant for the life of one whose loss would imbitter mine! Yet, not for wealth unlimited, for the safety of my family, for the life of the noble victim that is now standing at the place of torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of abandoning the cause of the City of Holiness.

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