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THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.

Y the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

Asleep are the ranks of the dead;-
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;-
Under the one, the Blue;

Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,

Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet;Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment-day;Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers

Alike for the friend and the foe;-
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;-
Under the roses, the Blue;

Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor

The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all;

Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;-
'Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;—
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;-
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;-
Under the blossoms, the Blue;

Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment-day;-
Love and tears for the Blue;
Tears and love for the Gray.

FRANCIS MILES FINCH.

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With the giant wrong shall fall Many others, great and small,

Lo! a cloud's about to vanish from the day;
And a brazen wrong to crumble into clay.
Lo! the right 's about to conquer: clear the way!
With the right shall many more
Enter smiling at the door;

That for ages long have held us for their prey.
Men of thought and men of action, CLEAR THE WAY!
CHARLES MACKAY.

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WHAT IS NOBLE?

HAT is noble?-to inherit

Wealth, estate, and proud degree?

There must be some other merit

Higher yet than these for me!—
Something greater far must enter
Into life's majestic span,
Fitted to create and centre
True nobility in man.

What is noble?-'tis the finer

Portion of our mind and heart, Linked to something still diviner

Than mere language can impart: Ever prompting-ever seeing

Some improvement yet to plan; To uplift our fellow-being,

And, like man, to feel for Man!

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O'er the forge's heat and ashes,—
O'er the engine's iron head,—
Where the rapid shuttle flashes,

And the spindle whirls its thread:
There is labor, lowly tending

Each requirement of the hour,— There is genius, still extending

Science, and its world of power!

'Mid the dust, and speed, and elamor,
Of the loom-shed and the mill;
"Midst the clink of wheel and hammer,
Great results are growing still!
Though too oft, by fashion's creatures,
Work and workers may be blamed,
Commerce need not hide its features,—
Industry is not ashamed!

What is noble?— that which places
Truth in its enfranchised will,
Leaving steps, like angel-traces,
That mankind may follow still!

E'en though scorn's malignant glances
Prove him poorest of his clan,
He's the Noble-who advances
Freedom, and the Cause of Man!
CHARLES SWAIN.

THE LABORER.

TAND up- erect! Thou hast the form
And likeness of thy God! - Who more?
A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm

And pure, as breast e'er wore.

What then?-Thou art as true a man
As moves the human mass among;
As much a part of the great plan
That with creation's dawn began,
As any of the throng.

Who is thine enemy? The high

In station, or in wealth the chief? The great, who coldly pass thee by, With proud step and averted eye? Nay! nurse not such belief.

If true unto thyself thou wast,

What were the proud one's scorn to thee? A feather which thou mightest cast Aside, as idly as the blast

The light leaf from the tree.

No: uncurbed passions, low desires,
Absence of noble self-respect,
Death, in the breast's consuming fires,
To that high nature which aspires
Forever, till thus checked;

These are thine enemies thy worst:
They chain thee to thy lowly lot;
Thy labor and thy life accursed.

O, stand erect, and from them burst,
And longer suffer not.

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TACT AND TALENT.

ALENT is something, but tact is everything. Talent is serious, sober,

grave and respectable: tact is all that, and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch; it is the interpreter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times; it is useful in solitude, for it shows a man his way into the world; it is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the world. Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight, tact is momentum; talent knows what to do, tact knows how to do it; talent makes a man respectable, tact will make him respected; talent is wealth, tact is ready money. For all the practical purposes of life, tact carries it against talent ten to one. Take them to the theatre, and put them against each other on the stage, and talent shall produce you a tragedy that will scarcely live long enough to be condemned, while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after night, with its successful farces. There is no want of dramatic talent, there is no want of dramatic tact; but they are seldom together: so we have successful pieces which are not respectable, and respectable pieces which are not successful.

Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned curls at each other in legal rivalry; talent sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. Talent has many a compliment from the bench, but tact touches fees from attorneys and clients. Talent speaks learnedly and logically, tact triumphantly. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on no faster, tact excites astonishment that it gets on so fast. And the secret is, that it has no weight to carry; it makes no false steps; it hits the right nail on the head; it loses no time; it takes all hints and by keeping its eye on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of every wind that blows. Take them into the church. Talent

has always something worth hearing, tact is sure of abundance of hearers; talent may obtain a living, tact will make one; talent gets a good name, tact a great one; talent convinces, tact converts; talent is an honor to the profession, tact gains honor from the profession.

Take them to court. Talent feels its weight, tact finds its way; talent commands, tact is obeyed; talent is honored with approbation, and tact is blessed by preferment. Place them in the senate. Talent nas the ear of the house, but tact wins its heart, and has its votes; talent is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. It has a knack of slipping into place

with a sweet silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard-ball insinuates itself into the pocket. It seems to know everything, without learning anything. It has served an invisible and extemporary apprenticeship; it wants no drilling; it never ranks in the awkward squad; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on no looks of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity, but plays with the details of place as dexterously as a well-taught hand flourishes over the keys of the piano-forte. It has all the air of commonplace, and all the force and power of genius.

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man.

THE GENTLEMAN.

HEN you have found a man, you have not far to go to find a gentleman. You can not make a gold ring out of brass. You can not change a Cape May crystal to a diamond. You can not make a gentleman till you have first a To be a gentleman, it will not be sufficient to have had a grandfather. To be a gentleman does not depend upon the tailor, or the toilet. Blood will degenerate. Good clothes are not good habits. A gentleman is just a gentle-man; no more, no less; a diamond polished, that was first a diamond in the rough. A gentleman is gentle. A gentleman is modest. A gentleman is courteous. A gentleman is generous. A gentleman is slow to take offense, as being one that never gives it. A gentleman is slow to surmise evil, as being one that never thinks it. A gentleman goes armed only in consciousness of right. A gentleman subjects his appetites. A gentleman refines his taste. A gentleman subdues his feelings. A gentleman deems every other better than himself. Sir Philip Sidney was never so much a gentleman,— mirror though he was of England's knighthood, as when, upon the field of Zutphen, as he lay in his own blood, he waived the draught of cold spring water, that was brought to quench his mortal thirst, in favor of a dying soldier. St. Paul described a gentleman when he exhorted the Philippian Christians: -"Whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.' GEORGE W. DOANE.

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