( Jompi anion to _the Dime Dialogues. % ' BEADLE’S 2g SPEAKER Number One. BEING GEMS OF. ORATORY FOR THE SCHOOL, THE EXHIBITION-ROOM, THE HOME CIRCLE AND THE STUDY; cOM ere SPECI Me NS OF WIT, HUMOR, PATHOS AND DISCOURSE, FROM FRESH AND EMINENT SOURCES. NEW YORK: SINCLAIR ere oe) oh Gos 12) Nassau Street. Ws eppg ees Nae Sb! ie atl nea rar ler ee ee THE PEOPLE’S LIBRARY » ROMANC™ In the production of their Druze Novets, the publisher been guided by the twofold desire to place in the hands 0) readers the choiceest works of the most popular authors, and t A DOLLAR BOOK FOR A DIME! thus disseminating a pure and enticing literature, in a cha shape at a price which renders each issue attainable by all cl ‘The extraordinary sales which have attended each and all Dime Nove ts thus far put forth, is evidence that the enté has found an appreciative market, as well as an assurance tli novels are all that is claimed for them in point of beauty, in and literary excellence. The list comprises thus far the foll works by the well-known authors named : No.1—-MALAESKA.the Indian , 18—CEDAR SWAMP; o1 q Wife of the White Hunter. By Nat’s Brigade. By WhO Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Eyster. 2—PRIVATEER’S CRUISE, | 14—EMERALD NECKI and the Bride of Pomfret Hall. or, Mrs. Butterby’s Be By Harry Cavendish. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 8—MYRA, THE CHILD OF | 15—THE FRONTIER A! Adoption. By Mrs. Stephens. a romance of Kentuck} 4—ALICE WILDE, the Rafts-| ers’ Life. By E. S. Bl man’s Daughter. By Mrs. M.| 16—-UNCLE EZEKIEL V. Victor. his Exploits on Two 5—THE GOLDEN BELT; or,| 2ents. By Mrs. M. V. } the Carib’s Pledge. By Colin| 17—-MADGE WYLDE: Barker. Young Man’s Ward. 1 6—CHIP, THE CAVE-CHILD, | author of “Clifton.” By Mrs. M. A. Denison. 18—NAT TODD; or, thé %—THE REEFER OF.’76; or. of the Sioux’ Captive. the Cruise of the Fire-Fly. By| %. Ellis. Harry Cavendish. 19—MASSASOIT’S DA @ 8—SETH JONES; or, the Cap tives of the Frontier. By HK. S. Ellis. 9—THE SLAVE SCULPTOR; or, the Prophetess of the Secret Chambers. By Wm. J. Hall. 10—BACK WOODS’ BRIDE: a Romance of Squatter Life. By Mrs. M. V. Victor, 11—PRISONER OF LA VIN- tresse; or, the Fortunes of a Cuban Heiress. By Mrs. M. A. Denison. TE ee Taare © in the; rr . i FéAwvard 8, mike a et 2 ter; or, the French Ca) By A. J. H. Duganne. 20—FLORIDA; or, thé E Will. By Mrs. M. A. Dé 21—SYBIL CHASE; _ 0} Valley Ranche. By Mr S. Stephens. 22—THE MAID OF ES! or, the Trials and Tri of the Revolution. By Li 23—WINIFREDWINT or, the Lady of Atherto By Clara Augusta. 24—THE TRAIL HUN' mt E. S. Ellis. [Continued on 8a page 9) A Companion to the Dime Dialogues, REING A Grems of Oratory” © Ell FOR aL 0 ; The School, the EXxhibition-Room, the \E, Home Circle, and the Study; " | COMPRISING SPECIMENS OF a WIT, HUMOR, PATHOS, AND DISCOURSE, DA Ca FROM i RESH AND EMINENT SOURCES. BY LOUIS LEGRAND, M. D. NEW YORK: IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO, NO. 137 WILI1 ¥ntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, By IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern district of New York. IN TRODUCTORY. Tux great number of “Speakers,” “Orators,” “ De claimers,” &c., would seem to forbid this addition to the list; but, when it is borne in mind that their price, gen- erally, is one dollar or more, we think the parent and scholar will not object to the introduction of a dime book, ‘that shall challenge comparison of merit with any offered at a much greater sum. . This collection embraces specimens of the splendid oratory of the late lamented Rufus Choate, of Henry Wil- son, George Sumner, Dr. Adams, Kossuth, Edward Everett, Reverends Stowell Brown, Henry Ward Beecher, and Dr, Chapin, &c., &e. . The poems embrace some of the finest and most impressive productions of Pierpont, Per- cival, Poe, Tennyson, Howitt, &., &c., and a number of anonymous contributions of singular beauty, In humor, _ we have chosen some of the very best things by Dr. ‘Holmes, Dow, Jr., Artemas Ward, Jeriah Jeboom, &c., &c. Itis to be doubted if any Speaker, yet prepared for Schools and Exhibitions, contains more matter of real adaptive excellence. Taken in connection with the ‘“‘ Diaz Diatogugs,” this “Speaker” offers a complete compendium of declamation _ for the School, the Exhibition, the Parlor, and the Fireside ; and the editor hopes this effort to cheapen GOOD LITER- AturE, for the student, will not fail to give pleasure and satisfaction to parents, teachers, and scholars. ny CONTENTS. “Young America” on Progress, 4 Dow, Jr. The Birthday of Washington, . R : " Rufus Choate, Plea for the Maine Law, . . Metta Victoria Victor, Not on the Battle-field, . . . John Prerpont, The Itahan Struggle, : George Sumner, 1859, Independence, . s Dow Jr., Our Country, .. Hon. Henry Wilson, 1 859, The Equality of Man, ; id., The True Character of the Revolution, y y ld., The.F cuits ofthe Wan balks ol skeod MS node de, The Sewing machine, . Anon, True Manhood, . 3 ‘ Henry Ward Beecher, 1859, The Mystery of Life, fo yee 9) eve Dr. Chapin’ 1859, The Ups andDowns, . . . Anon, The Truly er Cee ae “Ree. “Dr. ‘Adams, 1859, The Same, . . : id. The Same, $ ; ‘ : Z td., Early Retiring and Rising, ee 3 Dow, dr, Artemas Ward’s yi HS t "aly 4, 1859) The Same, . 3 d , . ° wdd., I a i ik hela Id., True Nationality, Bifia Choate, 1858, Onr Natal Day, i af Intelligence the True Basis of Liberty, 2 . ia., ee . : . . Anon, The W . ‘Alfred Tennyson, The lout of the Light Brigade, . Tennyson, After the Batt le, - From Chamber's Journal, 1859, The Glass Railroad, . . . George Lippard The Case of Mr. Macbeth, airrets é FA. As The Professor on Phrenology, 4 . Dr oe Annabel Lee, ; Edgar A. Poe, Washington’s Name, z $ “Tames G. Percival, The Sailor Boy’ s Syren, 4 i . Ohio Paper, Jeriah Jeboom’s Oration, ¢ _Californva Paper, A Dutch Cure, . $ 2 : y Anon, PAR AMD OT 5. geo sit ics sah sides . . 0.W. Holmes, The a ‘Term, usneini ‘ Enos B. Reed, ‘Philosophy Applied, Ree Dr. Le Grand, An Ola Bella i Penny Wise: i Pound Foolish, . Rev, Stowell Brown, frue Cleanliness, ee gs ee saturday Night’s Enjoyments, | wy caring OF é sy *In A Just Cause,” . é 5 Louis Kossuth, No Peace With Oppression, ‘ A Tale of a Mouse, ant rhymed story for eh children, AThanksgivng Sermon, . . Grand, The Cost ofRiches, . . . « William Howitt, Great Lives Imperishable, F ‘ feng Everett, The Propuecy ror the Year, . . . Anon, A . wee ~~ “7 gq wee sf / DE Dime Speaker. “YOUNG AMERICA” ON PROGRESS.—Douw, dr. Text.—Drive on your horses. . My Hearens: The spirit of the age is drive ahead! If you upset your wagon, and spill your milk, keep up with the popular crowd, and leave the old, slow, careful coaches in the lurch. ‘Get out of the way, old Dan Tucker!” is ali the go now-a-days, musically, morally, and mechanically speaking. A flood is upon us that is fast washing all the old works of the old music masters into the dead sea of oblivion. The old heavy drama is too slow a coach altogether for the present day. A lighter and a faster one we must have—a regular trotting concern. Poor Shakspeare! his house is sold, and he has stepped out. His taper shines witha sickly glare in the misty moonlight of. the past —a mere glow- worm upon a dark and distant moor. Alas! Iamafraid he was not for a time, but for all day; and its now about to be all day with him. But good-bye, Bill; I must drive on | my horses, or take the dust of unpopularity. ‘ My friends, we area fast people, and live in a fast age. Perhaps you may say we are only riding down hill on a bandsled: the mere we increase in velocity, the sooner we shall reach the bottom ; and then have to get back again the best way we can. No; the way is comparatively level, and the road is clear. all we have to do is to keep up steam, and push ahead—propel. When I speak of keeping upthe steam, I de not mean that you shall fire up with that liquid, the effect of which is to ‘‘ put a brick in your hat”—in other words, to intoxicate—for thereby you may burst your boilers; but I have reference to maintaining that ambitious spirit of rapid progression, to which neither the everlasting moun- tains, nor the eternal hills, can set any bounds. Ours is already a great country, but we want to make ita big country. No pent-up Blackwell’s Island shall contract our powers; but the whole boundless continent must belong to us, ‘Re Baeu Wee id Dow Goteep 9% 6 THE DIME SPEAKER. publicanism, with his new, big boots, is bound to travel— 4nd no power on earth shall say, ‘Thus far shalt thou come, and no further.” Emperors, kings, princes, and po- tentates! get out of the way, for we are coming with our fast horses! Clear the track for Young América! We in- tend honestly to vote ourselves farms; but if voting don’t get them, by General Jupiter Jackson, we'll take them whether or no! Shall we lumber along the road, and al- low other nations to pass us with a whiz? No, never!— our horses are fast, and we must give the world an awing Specimen of their speed. Take care then, by Basil! we are running a race with Britain for Cuba; and if you don’t | look out, you may get injured. We must progress—ad- yance — expatiate — till two-thirds of the globe is ours; and then if we are compelled to stop by some unforeseen circumstance, what will be the consequence? Why, we shall fall to fighting among ourselves, and be brought back to the borders of primitive insignificance. _ My friends, the world plays us a great game, and every man must look out for his handful. For my part, I take my time, and cheerfully accept of what Providence assigns me. But don’t be guided-by me—a pauper dependent upon chance. Drive on your horses; keep ahead if possible, and let the laziest nation be the hindmost. So may it be! ’ THE BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON.—Rufus Choate.* — Tux birthday of the “ Father of his Country!” May it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts! May it ever reawaken in.them a filial veneration for his memory; ever rekindle the fires of patriotic regard for the country which he loved so well, to which he gave his youthful vigor and his youthful energy, during the perilous period of the early Indian warfare ; to which he devoted his life in the maturity of his powers, in tle field ; to which again he of- fered the counsels of his wisdom and: his experience, ag #* Rufus Choate, one of the most eminent Jawyers of the generation. of our fathers, died on the 12th of July, 1859, at Halifax, Nova Seo= hither he had gone in search of rest and health. He was bo ne Salt tat October Tat, 1749 ‘is orations are models ls of olor Guance nad chants ‘ =. ae # THB BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON. 7 president of the convention that framed our Constitution; which he guided and directed while in the ebair of state, and for which the last prayer of his earthly supplication was offered up, when it came the moment for him so well, and so grandly, and so calmly to die. He was the first man of the time in which he grew. His memory is first and -most sacred in our love, and ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell of power and of might. Yes, gentlemen, there is one personal, one vast felicity, which no man can share with him. It was the hak beauty, and towering and matchless glory of his life whic’ enabled him to create his country, and at the same time, secure an undying love and regard from the whole American people. ‘The first in the hearts of hiscountrymen!” Yes, first! He has our first and most fervent love. Undow there were brave and wise and good men, before his day, in*every colony. But the American nation, as a nation, I do not’reckon to have begun before 1774. And the- first love of that Young America was Washington. The first word she lisped was his name. Her earliest breath spoke it. It still is her proud ejaculation; and it will he the last gasp of her expiring life! Yes; others of our great men have been appreciated—many admired by all;—bat him we love; him we alllove. About and around him we call up no dissentient and discordant and dissatisfied elements —no sectional prejudice nor bias—no party, no creed, no dogma of politics. None of these shall assail him. Yes; when the storm of battle blows darkest and rages highest, the memory of Washington shall nerve every American arm, and cheer every American heart. It shall relume that Promethean fire, that sublime flame of patriotism, that devoted love of country which his words have ¢ommended, which his example has consecrated: . “Where may the wearied eye repose, _ } When gazing on the great; i ae Where neither guilty glory glows ; Nor despicable state ?— sah Yes—one—the first, the last, the best, } The Cincinnatus of the West, a Whom Envy dared not hate, p worn Bequeathed the name of Washington, 4+ Te make man blush there was but one.” = THE DIME SPEAKER. PLEA FOR THE MAINE LAW.*—dfetta Victoria Victor. Tuouen I spake with the tongue of a denouncing angel, from, now till the day of retribution, I could not depict all the evils of the liquor traffic; that though I wrote with a pen inspired with terror and winged with lightning, I could never write out the half of its abominations. I should say that a poor and virtuous nation was more secure of immor- tality and dignity than a rich and wicked one; and that if it was going to impoverish this country to abolish this traf- fic, it had better be honorably humble, than magnificently wicked; and I would refer my hearers to those often quoted examples of the Cities of the Plain, of Babylon, and Rome. But 1 would further affirm, that so far from decreasing agricultural and commercial prosperity, it would increase both just as certain as the wretched inebriates who sup- port one rummery would invest the money, which they there throw away, on food, rent, and clothing. I would say that if there are ten thousand men supported in this State by the trade, that they are supported by the entire ruin of thirty thousand, and the injury of three hundred thousand. I would ask if that was political economy. I would state a very simple proposition, and let them multi- ly the answer by as many drunkards as there are in these Taited States. If a man instead of eating twelve bushels of grain, drinks eight and eats four, will the farmer have any larger market for his produce ?—and by the loathing ‘of food which liquor produces, the wasting of strength, and the shortening of life, will he not lose ten years of that ‘man’s custom? while the producers of clothing lose al- most entirely his support, his employers lose what might ‘be a profitable workman, and the man himself, and those whom he would have benefited by it in honest exchanges, loses almost the whole of that comfortable income which his wasted strength and industry would have achieved! The farmer sells ten’dollars’ worth of grain; to support the distiller and rumseller, both needless and useless members of society, the consumer pays thirty for it— the thirty dollars is all that he could earn under the influ. ence of the distilled grain, where he would otherwise have * From ‘The Senator's Son""—one of the most powerful temperance stories of the times. ‘This speech is alapted expressly for this work. + { | | | | +o al - Law! NOT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD, 9 earned nixety—the hatter, and shoemaker, and kandlord, and merchant are robbed of sixty—and the many lose that the few may gain. Then there is another loss in the di- minished demands of his starving and naked family ; another’ in his requiring a police-officer or sheriff fo attend to him, a prison or workhouse to put him in—a coffin and six feet of earth, at the expense of the community, Another loss in his premature death. So much for the political econ- omy. Of some other losses I might not have the courage to speak; ‘the loss of health, of peace of mind, of reason, of friends, of domestic prosperity, and the loss of future happiness. I am afraid my voice would fail if it touched upon such losses.. Perhaps I should regain my courag however, if I had a drunkard’s child by my side, an could hold up her injured form in my arms and point to the cruel proceeds of a shilling’s worth of whiskey. You say, like women, we try to prove every thing by an appeal to our sympathies. Well; what better part of you is there to appeal to? Reason, of which men are so boast- ful, forever and forever runs away with itself unless re- strained and directed by the heart. Take those greatest and most subtle reasons, and let them run the rounds of their mighty intellects, and to what have many of the most brilliant returned ?—to-a lower point than the humblest heart could ever fall to—to a belief in their own brutish- ness and materiality. Is it not a principle in all good govern- ments to adopt those measures which will secure the great- est good to the most people? You know that the Maine Liquor Law, or even a more stringent one, would do this, I tel! you a large class of people demand this law, who have yet no voice in the matter. They are. the wi sisters, and daughters of those who support the distillers — and rumsellers. Not that I wish woman to go to the polls; buteif every man, would ask the female portion of his house who to vote for, those men would be elected who would not fail to give us this law. Oh, give us this Saving 10 THE DIME SPEAKER. NOT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.—John Pierpont. “To fall on the battle-field fighting for my dear country—that would not be hard.”—Tux Nrignpors. * On, no, no—let mx lie Not on a field of battle, when I die! Let not the iron tread & Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed -head: % Nor let the reeking knife, That I have drawn against a brother’s life, Be in my hand when death Thunders along, and tramples me beneath His heavy squadron’s heels, Or gory felloes of his cannon’s wheels, From such a dying bed, Though o’er it float the stripes of white and red, And the bald eagle brings The cluster’d stars upon his wide-spread wings, To sparkle in my sight, Oh, never let my spirit take her flight! I know that beauty’ Ss eye Is all the brighter where gay pennants fy, And brazen helmets dance, And sunshine flashes on the lifted lance : _ I know that bards have sung, And people shouted till the welkin rung In honor of the brave Who on the battle-field have found a grave: I know that o’er their bones Have grateful hands piled monumental stones, Some of those piles I’ve seen: The one at Lexington upon the green Where the first blood was shed, And to my country’s independence led: And others, on our shore, @ - The “Battle Monument” at Baltimore, . And that on Bunker’s Hill. Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still; Bye tomb, ” Themistocles, That looks out yet upon the Grecian seas, i And which the waters kiss NOT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. That issue from the gulf of Salamis. And thine, too, have I seen Thy mound of earth, Patroclus, robed in green, That, like a natural knoll, Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll, Watch’d by some turban’d boy, Upon the margin of the plain of Troy. Such honors grace the bed, I know, whereon the warrior lays his head, And hears, as life ebbs out, The conquer’d fiying, and the conqueror’s shout, But as his eye grows dim, What is a column or a mound to him ? What, to the parting soul, The mellow note of bugles ? What the roll Of drums? No, let me die Where the blue heaven bends o’er me lovingly, | And the soft summer air, As it goes by me, stirs my thin, white hair, And from my forehead dries The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies Seem waiting to receive My soul to their clear depths! Or let me leave The world, when round my bed Wife, children, weeping friends are gathered, And the calm voice of prayer And holy hymning shall my soul prepare, To go and be at rest With kindred spirits—spirits who have bless’d The human brotherhood By labors, cares, and counsels for their good. In my dying hour, 3 When riches, fame, and honor have no power To bear the spirit up, Or from my lips to turn aside the cup That all must drink at last, Oh, let, me draw refreshment from the past! Then let my soul run back, With peace and joy, along my earthly track, And see that all the seeds That T have seatter'd there, in virtuous deeds, _ Have sprung up, and have given, Already, fruits of which to taste in heaven! THE*DIME SPEAKER, And though no grassy mound Or granite pile says "tis heroic ground Where my remains repose, Still will I hope—vain hope perhaps!—that those Whom I have striven to bless, The wanderer reclaim’d, the fatherless, May stand around my grave, With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave, And breathe an humble prayer, That they may die like him whose bones are oulden ing there. THE ITALIAN STRUGGLE.—George Summer, 1859. Tue actual war between Italy and France on one side, and Austria on the other, is but the continuation of our own struggle on another field—the struggle for na- tional freedom, equal rights, and self-government. How far these may be secured by the present contestis still uncertain ; but there is no uncertainty in this, that our warmest sympathies are due to all who strive for them. _ In the present case these sympathies are augmented by a remembrance of all we owe to Italy—that beautiful coun- try which the Apennines divide, the Alps and sea surround —lItaly, which has given us so much, of all that adorns and elevates life,—the home of art, of science, of medical skill, of political egrets ge Galileo, Raffael, Michael Angelo, of Fallopio, and of Galvani,—the land which in modern times has given us the earliest epic poet, Dante—the great Jyric poets, Filicaia and Petrarch—the earliest novelist, Bocecacejo—and the first philosophical historian, Vico, whose great mind has brought to the development of political _ science and the laws of the moral world the same precision that Galileo had brought to those of the material world. ~ To Italy we owe the discovery or invention of book-keep- ing, the mariners’ compass, the barometer, the telescope applied to astronomy, the calculation of longitudes, the ndulum.as a measure of time, the laws of hydraulics, the Bes of navigation; and to Italy we owe both Columbus who discovered, and Amerigo Vespucci who gave his name to our country, THE ITALIAN STRUGGLE. 13 To Italy we gyve also some of the most important lessons of political philosophy. Her Republics of the middle ages were based on the three great principles : 1st. That all authority over the people emanates from the people. 2d. That power should return at stated intervals to the people. . 3d. That the holder of power should be strictly respon- sible to the people for its use. To those Republics we also owe the practical demonstra- tion of the great truth, that no state can long prosper or exist, where intelligent labor is not held in honor,—and that labor cannot be honorable where it is not free. Our sympathies are augmented by a remembrance of all this—and by the natural horror inspired by Austria, to which civilization for three hundred and thirty years owes nothing,—whose wiole career, both at home and abroad, has been a series of blackest crimes against the political right of States, and the individual rights of man,—and which is now under the despotic control of an Emperor, who is a depléfable example of the union of youth and cruelty. But there are some, happily their number is few, who, : having no faith in the people, look with indifference upon their efforts,—and others who try to ¢foak the selfishness and imbecility with which Nature has endowed them, un- der an assumed superiority over the people of other coun- tries,— who tell us that other nations are not fitted for free institutions,—who seem to think that they have a patent for freedom, and an exclusive right to enjoy it, that they are God’s chosen people, and that all others are made only to be ruled by tyrants. : ; 4 But we, as Americans, as Freemen, as Christians, would be untrue to our liberty, to our humanity, to our age, not to frown down the miserablc plea, that “Italy can not govern herself—that her people are not ready and fit for liberty. Be free; v land of the great and good!—be free O country of the Past! Renew thy ancient glory, and crown thy old ruins with the halo of the brave and wise, for ye are worthy, indeed, of freedom and new life. Be a THE DIME SPEAKER. . INDEPENDENCE.—Dow, J#® Text. Independence is the thing, And we're the boys to boast on’t. My Hearers :—Next Thursday is the birthday of Amer. ican Liberty—the day upon which our star-spangled ban- ner first waved in the fair breeze of Freedom—the day that the proud eagle of the mountain first iooked down from his eyry on a free and independent nation-~the day upon which the fat, ragged, aad saucy children of Columbia broke loose from the apron-strings of their mother-country and kicked up their heels for joy, like so many colts releas- ed from the bondage of winter confinement. You ought on this occasion, to be as full of glory as a gin-bottle, that this blessed anniversary is about once more to dawn upon your heads, and find you reaping the harvest of those pless- ings which your fathers sowed in revolutionary soil, wa- tered with their own blood, and manured with their own ashes. Yes, you ought to throw up your caps, and make the halls of Freedom ring with loud huzzag, and then sit down and meditate on the groans, and the pains of travail, which attended this mighty Republic during the delivery of her first-born—Liserry. My friends, next Thursday the celebration wili take place. Then the whole nation will be alive like a beggar’s shirt; there will be a general stirring up of the genus homo from one end of the nation to another. The fires of enthusiasm will be kindled in every breast; and many of those who lack in patriotic glory will, doubtless, supply themselves with the article at the booths round the Park. But, my dear friends, this sixpenny patriotism is- most horrible stuff; it is patriotism of the head, and not of the heart. . It makes you feel too independent altogether. It induces you to fight in times of peace. and takes ali the starch out of your courage in times of war. While this ’ artificial patriotism is efferveseing in your cocoa-nuts, your boasts of independence are ioud and clamorous; but when its spirit has evaporated, you are the veriest serviles that ever writhed under the lash of despotism. If yousuppose, my friends, that the proper way to observe our national independence is by drinking brandy slings and gin cock- tails, you are just as mistaken as the boy was who set a bear-trap to caich bed-bugs, a4 +3 OUR COUNTRY. 15 My dear hearers: I like to hear you boast of your inde- pendence, if it be not done in a vain and bragadocial spirit, and my gratuitous prayer is, that you may maintain it as long as you are permitted to squat this side of the deep, still river of death. To preserve your collective’ strength, your hearts, your feelings, and your pure sympathies must be all joined together, like the links of a log-chain. You must all hang together lily a string of fish, and stick to one another through thick and thin, like, a bunch of bur- docks in a bell-wether’s fleece. Remember, my friends, that, with all your boasted independence, you are poor, weak, miserable, dependent beings. That same Almighty hand which provides you with soup and shirts, beef and breeches, can take them all from you in a little less than a short space of time, and leave you as naked as an apple- tree in winter. Yes, my friends, you must recollect that you are dependent, as well as independent; and that all the favors you receive are donations from heaven, brought down by angels of mercy, and distributed nari among the grabbing, snatching, and thieving sons of sin, , OUR COUNTRY.—Jn. Henry Wilson, 1859. Upon America, our country, and with all her faults, the sand of our affections and pride, are centered the best hopes of mankind. To what portion of the globe, to what land under the whole heavens, can the friend of human progress, of equal and universal liberty, this day turn with more of hope and confidence than to this magnificent Continental Empire, this broad land of wondrous fertility, where Provi- dence has garnered illimitable resources to be developed for human prosperity, power, and happiness,—this Demo- cratic Republic, with achieved free institutions, based upon . the rights of human nature, with millions of people trained in self-government, and in full possession of the citadel of consummated power—the ballot-box,—where the loving heart, the enlightened conscience, the unclouded reason of man can utter their voices for humane and equal laws, and for their wise and impartial administration? ‘Our country,” said that illustrious supporter of the rights of mankind, — John Quincy Adams, ‘began her existence by the procla mation of the universal emancipation of man from the 16 THE DIME SPEAKER. thralldom of man!” In support of that glorious proclama- tion our fathers were summoned to walk the path of duty, and they obeyed the call though it was swept by British cannon, darkened by the storm of battle, and sprinkled with the blood of falling comrades. We honor their sub- lime devotion, we applaud their heroic deeds. Their bright example of devotion to principle and fidelity to duty, should incite us of this age in America, to accept joyfully and bravely the responsibilities of our position, and like them be ever ready “ to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet,” THE EQUALITY OF MAN.—By the same. ‘Turse sublime ideas of the Declaration of Independence, express the whole creed of the equality of humanity, the basis of government, and the rights of the people. They speak to the universal heart of mankind. They declare to Kings, and Princes, and Nobles, and Statesmen, ‘“ Govern- ments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, to secure the inalienable rights of men to liberty;” they proclaim to toilting milions, “whenever” any form of government becomes destructive of these ends it is the right of the peoplé to alter or abolish it;” they utter in the hungry ears of lowly bondmen, ‘all men are created equal,” and ‘ endowed with the inalienable rights of liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” These ‘‘self-evident truths” may be hated and spurned by the monarch, in the arrogance of unrestricted .power; they may be scoffed at and jeered at by the noble, hedged about with ancient privileges; they may be limited, qualified, or denied by the ignoble politician, whose apostasy is revealed and rebuked by the brilliancy of their steady light; they may be sneered at as “‘ glittering generalities” by the nerve- less conservative, who ‘has ever opposed every useful reform and wailed over every rotten institution as it fell,” — but they live in the throbbing hearts of the toiling masses, and they nurse the wavering hopes of hapless bondmen amid the thick gloom of rayless oppression. When the Christian shall erase from the Book of Life the precious words— ‘‘Do unto others as ye would that others should do 32 THE TRUE CHARACTAR OF THE REVOLUTION. 17 unto you;” Love thy neighbor as thyself,” then may the sincere lover of human freedom blur, blot, and erase from the language of humanity these immortal words embodied by our Fathers in the Declaration of the 4th of July, 1776, These words, these ideas, which underlie the institutions of the Republic associate the name of America with the cause of universal freedom and progress all over the globe. We may be recreant to these ideas, we may ignobly fail, the government may perish, the country may sink down be- neath the level of the seas so that the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific shall meet, mingle, and roll over her loftiest summits, but the incorporation of these sacred ideas into the charter of National Independence will bear the name of the North American Republic down to coming ages, and win for it the grateful homage and lasting remembrance of mankind, TRUE CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.—By the sama. Tue great contest which resulted in national independence, was a contest between power and principle—authority and liberty. England and America were not alone interested in its results. It concerned universal man, and upon the character of the contest mankind has pronounced its irre- versible verdict for the cause of America. British ministers and hereditary statesmen, smiled upon by the king and applauded by the people, flushed with the arrogance of ‘assured power, regarded with disdainful contempt the hum- ble leaders of popular liberty in America, whose names were hardly known to the haughty chiefs that wielded the mighty power, and commanded for the purposes of con- quest and subjugation the vast resources of the British Empire. But with each revolving year the names of these arrogant British chiefs are passing from the recollection of mankind, and their fame is growing more dim and ob- scure ;—with each passing year the fame of the leaders of the cause of popular liberty in America is steadily bright- ening. The leaders who shaped the policy of America re- ceived, while living, the grateful homage of an admiring country, and a grateful people called them into positions of trust and honor under the government they had foun- ded ;—-the ministersand statesmen of England were ignobly_ oe heed 13 THE DIME SPEAKER, forced from power, with the loss of public confidence, and they sunk into retirement with the maledictions of the people resting upon their names. America applauds the deeds and cherishes the fame of her leaders in that contest, —Rngland strives to forget the deeds of her leaders, and neglects their fame. While America, to-day, utters the names of Washington and Franklin, Adams and Jefferson, Otis and Henry, Quincy, Jay, Warren, Sherman, Hancock, Samuel Adams, and their illustrious associates, with affec- tionate regard/and profound reverence,—England, if she recalls at all the dimmed names of North, Grenville, Grafton, Dartmouth, Sandwich, Wedderburn, and their haughty compeers, she reproaches their memories with the folly and madness which lost America to the British Em- pire. America remembers and hallows even the battle- fields of defeat, for the blood of her sons, who fell on those lost fields, was shed for freedom and independence; Eng- land strives not to remember even her battle-fields of victory, for they were won in support of a ‘ost cause, and brought nether power nor glory. : ‘ THE FRUITS OF THE WAR.—By the same. _ Etenry-rante years! Tow brief a span in the life of nations,—in the history of the world! And yet, what mighty changes have these eighty-three years wrought in the condition of America. When the morn of the 4th of July, 1776, dawned upon America, thirteen dependent, disunited, feeble colonies dotted the shores of the Atlantic from the St, Johns to the St. Marys; and within these colonies dwelt less than two and a half millions of freemen, differing in origin, in race, customs, in manners and habits; without money, without arms, without a national government, name, or character; bound together by a burning sense of oppression, a common danger, and an intense, vehement, and inextinguishable love of personal freedom, And these colonies, menaced by. the gigantic power of England, whose navies rode in haughty pride upon their seas, and the battle-fires of whose armies flashed upon their shores,— unsupported by any friendly power, with hardly a weapon for defence, on the 4th of July, 1776, calmly proclaimed America independent, pronounced the sentence of eternal” 7% » & yY THE FRUITS OF THE WAR. 19 separation from the British Empire, and hurled defiance at that power, which had so often sent confusion into the councils of princes, and carried terror into the ranks of the veteran armies of the proudest monarchies of the Eastern world. On that day these colonies placed themselves front to front with that power, whose brilliant victories by sea and by land, in both hemispheres, had filled the whole earth with her renown,—power, which had recently, under the guid- ance of the elder Pitt, humbled the proud monarchy of France, arrested her splendid schemes of empire in the Western world, and wrested from her possession her mag nificent colonial empire in North America. As we refresh our memories with the recollections of the deeds of the illustrious men of the Revolutionary era, who carried America through years of civil war, from colonial dependence to national independence, the proud con- sciousness that they were not only successful beyond the ordinary lot of mortals, but that they were right, and “had,” in the words of Camden in the House of Lords, “ the nat- ural rights of man, and the immutable laws of nature” on their side, is a source of profound gratification. When the champions of the rights of the colonies resisted the demands of arbitrary power, when they raised the standard of independence, and rested their cause upon the rights of human nature and the lawsof the living God, they were scoffed at, and jeered at as “visionary enthusiasts,” and England echoed with the words of scorn, derision, and con- tempt, poured out by king and aristocracy, and the para- sites of power, upon noble men, who were contending in America for the principles for which Hampden and Sidney struggled. ‘Let the Americans,” exclaimed Gower, in the House of ‘Lords, with scornful derision ‘ talk about their natural and divine rights,—their rights as men and citizens —their rights from God and nature! Iam for enforcing these measures!” Sandwich contemptuously declared that the Americans were “ cowardly,—the very sound of a cannon would send them off as fast as their feet would carry them!” Grant, amidst the loude cheering, asserted that “ Americans would not fight, that they were not sol- diers and never could be made so, being naturally pusil- lanimous!” British Lords made themselves merry over these sneering allusions to the descendants of the men who swept the fields of Naseby, Worcester, and Marston Moor . 20 THE DIME SPEAKER. But “the Americans would fight,” and ‘the Americans did fight,” until they wrung from king, ministers, aristoc- racy, army, and people, from men who had met their just demands with the arrogance and contemptuous scorn of assured power, the fullest recognition of the independence of free and united America! THE SEWING MACHINE.—By Anon. “Gor one? Don’t say so! Which did you get? One of the kind to open and shut ? Own it, or hire it? How much did you pay? Does it go with a crank, or a treddle? Say, Tm a single man, and somewhat green, Tell me about your sewing machine.” Listen, my boy, and hear all about it— I don’t know what I could do without it ; I’ve own’d one now for more than a year, And like it so well, I call it ‘‘ my dear ;” ‘Tis the cleverest thing that ever was seen, This wonderful family sewing machine. It’s none of your angular Wheeler things, With steel-shod beak and cast-iron wings ; Its work would bother a hundred of his, And worth a thousand! Indeed it is; And has a way—you needn’t stare— Of combing and braiding its own back hair! Mine is not one of those stupid affairs That stands in a corner, with what-nots and chairs, And makes that dismal, head achy noise, Which all the comfort of sewing destroys ; No rigid contrivance of lumber and steel, But one with a natural spring in the heel. Mine is one of the kind to love, And wear a shawl and a soft kid glove ; Has the merriest eyes, and dainty foot, And sports the charming gaiter boot, And a bonnet with feathers, and ribbons, and loops, © With: any indefinite number of hoops. “ + i . THE SEWING MACHINE. 21 None of your patent machines for me, Unless dame Nature is the patentee ; I like the sort that can laugh and talk, And take my arm for an evening walk ; That will do whatever the owner may choose, With the slightest perceptible turn of the screws! One that can dance, and—possibly—fiirt 5 And make a pudding, as well as a shirt— One that can sing without dropping a stitch, And play the housewife, lady, or witch— Ready to give the sagest advice, _Or do up your collars and things so nice. What do you think of my machine? Ain’t it the best that ever was seen? *Tisn’t a clumsy, mechanical toy, 3 ‘ But flesh and blood! Hear that, my boy? With a turn for gossip, and household affairs, Which include, you know, the sewing of tears. Tut, tut—don’t talk. I see it all— ' You needn’t keep winking so hard at the wall; I know what your fidgety fumblings mean, You would like, yourself, a sewing machine ! Well, get one, then—of the same design— There were plenty left when I got mine! — TRUE MANHOOD.—By Henry Ward Beecher, 1859. Aut around about you are men whom you despise and call shifttess—empty bags who never will stand up although you fill them ever so many times. Don’t you suppose it is a misfortune for a man to be born limpsy; don’t you sup- pose it is unfortunate fora man to be so built that his thoughts can not touch each other, and can not form a concatenation? Shiftlessness is one of the greatest mis- fortunes, yet somebody ought to pity shiftless persons, for surely there are enough of them, Yet men that are not shiftless are wont to despise those who are, Those me- » thodical men who know how, by looking at a thing, to adapt their minds to it, and to press on, step by step, with 22 THE DIME. SPEAKER executive wisdom, ciear through to the end—those men should use the gift which God has given them to take care of those persons who have not got it. Every man should be like those little tug-boats which come down the North River with three or four barges on each side, and with other barges attached to them, till for half a mile almost the river is covered with the barges which they are carry- ing. Now, when God has given great executive power to a person, he is to be a tow, and to take down the stream hundreds of those blunt-bowed, slow-sailing barges. It is very easy for a man to find fault with other men in those respects in which he is excellent, so that one seeing the depression there, shall see the mountain here; but this is not Christ-like. Now are you ot a quiet temper, then it is not for you to laugh at your neighbor who is very quick and hasty. Yet oftentimes men. employ this very patience as a means of annoying those persons whom they know to be irritable— they like to make them sparkle and strike fire. You that are strong are to help that man who can not control his temper; his skin and your skin may be different; it-may be that you are made tough, while he is made very tender. Now you are not, because that man there is palpitating al- ways—you are not to make him the subject of your amuse- ment. You are not to make him the butt and object of your ridicule, but you are to throw around about him the kindness of your heart. If he does not know how to hold himself, do you help him to hold himself; if he can not ex- tinguish the conflagration that tends to break out, do you bring the engine of your svmpathy and help him to put out the fire. You are firm—your neighbors call it even obstinacy. God has made you to stand out firm that there may be some yine-like men clinging to you with the tendrils of af- fection, who will thus be able to stand, when otherwise they would have fallen prostrate to the ground, Don’t you despise them, A man ought to thank God when he finds other men creeping upon him for support, instead of making it a matter of derision, instead of shoving them on one side and leaving them alone. Thank God that you have this strong testimony, that you are living like a Christian! When men come to you naturally and sponta- neously, saying, “help me bear my burdens,” it is the ey +2 . TRUE MANHOOD. ; 23 greatest compliment that can be paid to you this side of heaven. : Are you nopeful? God knows there are enough people in this world who are desponding. Now distribute that feeling among those desponding ones who need it. Are you buoyant, cheerful, and courageous ; are you a happi- ness-maker; has God given you a temperament to stand in life tha* will make everybody happier for your being there ? ; ’ In the long, dreary, wet, chilly days, the whole house smells moldy—the most cheerful room looks sad and dis- mal. But by and by the clouds part, and there! see! what is that which dances on the wali? Sure as I live there is a bright sun-stroke! And as the rays of the sun come out from the clouds, how bright and cheerful the old gloomy room looks now! And what the bright sunlight breaking through the clouds, scattering the darkness and gloom, is to you, so is the face of that man that is buoyant with hope, and cheerful with courage, to the despairing hearts of other men. I think men who are mirthful, men that are buoyant and sanguine, are said to be visionaries; but if there had been no visionaries the world would not have beengylere it is now. Men who are mirthful should be thank{ that God has given them such a divine endowment, and they should remember that it is to be used for the benefit of others, To shut it up within oneself is exactry what David would have done if he had taken his harp and said: *‘ Lock this up, it is a frivolous and useless mstrument.” But David struck the strings of his harp, and not only ms own soul rejoiced, but the world sings on, and will until the judg- ment day, the song which David sang. Now if God gave to you a heart with strings‘of cheer, take this lute and go down into the places where men die for lack of music, and cheer them with the sweet tones of your lyre. | And re- member that man has not lived a day amiss, who has made that day happier to one single soul, 24 THE DIME SPEAKER. THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. By Rev. Dr. Chapin. 1859. I remark, then, that in all natural and spiritual oper- ations, so far as they come within the sphere of human agency, there is a threefold element, or we may say that there are three distinct elements—there isan element of Endeavor, of Mystery, and of Result. In other words, there is something for man to do; there is something beyond his knowledge and control; there is some- thing achieved by the co-operation of these two, For illustration of this take any act—take one of the most familiar acts, the moving of the fingers, or the arm. We are conscious of our own will; we know the result; but we can not tell why that résult should follow. We can not see the subtle connection that runs between. the willing mind and the obedient muscles. Here, now, isa © mystery, and a great mystery, involved with this most fa- miliar performance. You may think of it again and again, and you will find that middle term of mystery impossible to explore—why, at the first jet of your thought, there should be a response at the end of your finger. We are delighted with the efforts of some great musician—with the exquisite music which he evokes ‘from the keys of the piano. But there is something far more wonderful, though far more common, than the music. It is the process. by which that music is created, the means by which the mel- odies and accordances in the artist’s soul are brought- out of the instrument; the way in which every little nerve and minute fiber of the fingers obeys the artist’s will, and makes a few slips of wire and of cold ivory to throw off jets of brilliant sound and volleys of human expression, and strike upon chords of far and mysterious suggestion, and pour out a stream of harmony that lifts up and floats a thousand souls. There, again, is the act of utterance, a condition that exists between you and myself. I speak, and you hear; but how? The words issue from my lips and reach your ears; but what are those words? Volumes of force communicated to the atmosphere, whose elastic waves carry them to fine recipients in your own organism. But still, Lask, how? How is it that these volumes of sound should convey articulate meaning, and carry ideas from my mind into your own? Man sows the seed—he reaps the harvest—but between these two points occurs the mid- * dle condition of mystery’ He casts the seed into the 2 ig" ‘is something for him to do, something for him to receive, THE UPS AND DOWNS. 25 ground; he slceps and rises, night and day; but the seed springs and grows up, he knows not how; yet, when the fruit is ripe, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. That is all he knows about it. Thera ~ but, between the doing and receiving there is a mystery. THE UPS AND DOWNS.—By Anon. A cuap once told St. Patrick’s dean, While rising from his seat, ‘‘I mean To set up for a wit.” ‘“Ah! quoth the dean, “if that be true, The very best thing you can do Is down again to sit.” Too many, like that would-be wit, Set up for what they are not fit And always lose their aim; ~ Set up for wisdom, wealth, renown, But end the farce by sitting down, With poverty and shame, A middling farmer thinks he can - Set up to be a gentleman, And then sit down content ; But after many a turn and twist, Is set down on the pauper list, A fool, not worth a cent. When farmers’ wives and daughters fair Set up with silks and bonnets rare, To look most wondrous winning, They sit upon a slippery stand, Till indigence, with iron hand Upsets their underpining Some city ladies, too, whose gear Has made them te their husbands dear, Set up to lead the ton ; Though they sit high on fashion’s sea te death, or poverty, albeit spe, ill set them down anon, a ‘i . od THE DIME SPEAKER. Some fools set up to live by law And though they are ‘all over jaw,” Soon fail for lack of brains ; But had the boobies only just, Known where they ought to sit at first, They’d saved a world of pains. A quack sets up the doctor’s trade, * But could he use the sexton’s spade No better than his pills, The man might moil from morn to night, And find his match with all his might To bury half he kills. You may set up for what you choose, As easily as weur old shoes, If e’er so low at present; But when you have set up in vain, And find you must sit down again, Tis terribly unpleasant, THE TRULY GREAT.*—By Rev. Dr. Adams. 1859. Tne astronomer who sounds the depths of space with his telescope, is overwhelmed, not so much by his discov- eries as by the thought of the realms which are yet be- yond the reach of mortal vision. The contemplation of great men in this world may properly have the same effect on us with regard to intelligent spirits superior to man. This is God’s host! When we consider them we may well say, What is man! Reason, as we possess it, which lifts us above the brutes, shows in a certain sense our inferiori- ty to angels; for the very necessity of reasoning, as we do, reveals that we are below those in whom processes of thought are electrified into lightning speed, or are wholly superseded by intuitions. Though we stand in awe be-~ fore a great man here, we should cease to do so could we look upon the unfallen sons of God. “Strength and beauty are in his tabernacle.” We trace divine wisdom and skill by the microscope down where mortal discern- *Preached on occasion of the death and burial of Rufus Choate, at Boston, July 17 1859. " . : a ay > THE TRULY GREAT. QT ment tamts;—but there are yet worlds of minute things still beyond our search. Now, if God has employed his omnipotence in that direction, how must, it be toward the opposite pole? © Will He. reduce animated life down to sponges and barnacles, leaving us in doubt whether they deserve the name of living things? If so, where will He stop when He creates intelligent spirits in his own image and in his own likeness? ‘Is there any number of his armies? And on whom doth not his light arise ?” The great.man, as we call him, dies. We will suppose him to haye been a Godless man. ‘His breath goeth forth; he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish.” He enters the world of spirits. He was a distinguished statesman. But where was he when the” morning stars sang together and all the Sons of God shouted for joy ? He was a great orator, But the spirit of God gave inspiration to the first-born spirits in heaven, whose words, compared with those from the most eloquent lips of man, are like sunbeams on a street lamp which is left burning after sunrise. He was a great poet; he was x master of song; ‘The Creation,” “‘ The Messiah,” are his. But there was a ‘‘ Creation” sung when God laid the fonn- dations of the earth, And when he bringeth in his first begotten into the world, was there not a “‘ Messiah ;” for, he saith, And let all the angels of God worship him. The music of heaven for a period beyond off* computation, ascriptions framed hy angelic minds, the learning, the.re- nown, the beauty and majesty of those that excel in strength, “the helmed cherubim and sworded seraphim,” and, withal, the accomplishments conferred by divine knowledge and moral beauty on the very humblest of the heavenly host, make the spirit of the great man from earth feel how poor a thing mere human greatness is, and that nothing is truly great, in heaven, which is not—first, last, midst—good; that the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; that to acquire the spiritual image of the Redeemer on earth, is the great end for which life was given. To be “a great man” in this world is, of itself, and viewed in connection with endless life, no more than to be a greater worm, A chameleon, or bird of paradise, or peacock, or a magnolia, or a giraffe, or cedar in Lebanon, are the peers of “a great man” who.does not fear God ‘and keep his commandments. ‘Like sheep they are laid in the grave; \ 28 death shall feed on them; and the upright shall have do- minion over them in the morning;” and “their beauty shall consume in the grave from their dwelling ;” ‘as a dream when one awaketh, so, O Lord, when thou awakest thou shalt despise their image.” THR DIME SPEAKER, . THE SAME.—Jdem. A man of genius is a proper occasion of special praise to God, for his sovereign power and goodness. “Men seldom think of this. They worship and serve the creature more than the Creator, who is over all, God blessed forever. They should rather feel disposed to address great men in these words, and for mutual admonition: ‘ And what hast thou that thou didst not receive? For who maketh thee to differ from another? Now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it?” Gifts of genius are as really the special gifts of God as the miracu- lous gifts which led the two Apostles at the Beautiful gate of the Temple to say, ‘Ye men of Israel, why look ye so earnestly on us, as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man to walk?” A wonderful mind is merely an uncommon efflorescence in one of a number of piants of ‘ce sgme species, whose structure is ordained by tae ail-wise God; and we are to receive the rare product ike every creature of God, with thanksgivings. It is a new iilustrasion of that divine benevolence which even in this world of sin and deserved misery, strives to teach us that God is love. But we do not find it to be a common thing for those who read the great poets and prose writers, and look upon works’of art, and listen to eloquence and music, and reverence statesmanship, and great military talent, and medical sagacity, and surgical skill, and the fruits of mechanical genius, to praise and bless Him who made heaven, earth, and seas, and the fountains of waters. Yet the same hearts, many of them, are led to think of God by viewing the firmament. Now, when we see the bright hosts which adorn the in- tellectual and moral firmament, we should give thanks to Him that made great lights in the moral as wellas the nat- ural world. To show his power, God is pleased to adorn \ 9 THE TRULY GREAT. 29. the world of miftd, now and then, with galaxies, clusters,— but we say, the age produced them ; the times made them. Who made the age? Our times—are they not in His hand? One great man in a century might have sufficed ; but lo! that same divine wisdom and love of excellence, which everywhere else at times rejoices to overflow all their banks, makes one land after another the object of affluent goodness in the bestowment of great men in com- panies; so that the constellations themselves are not more classified and marshaled than these great lights of their respective lands and times. ‘‘ Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works to the children of men.” In the realms of thought, where God, who is a spirit, should specially be recognized and adored, shall we set up idols? As one of the curses upon idolaters, it is said, ‘‘ Then God gave them up to worship the hosts of heaven.” It was a sublime and fascinating kind of idolatry; in the intellectual world it Has not ceased. Let men turn their thoughts to God as often as they contemplate a great mind among their fellows. Their worship is due to Him who made Arcturus, Orion, and the chambers of the South; to Him who made great lights; for His mercy en- dureth forever. THE SAME.—Idem. ~~ Great menare special gitfs of God to anation, and through it tothe world. They are special efforts of that same divine benevolence which gives us Apennines, and Alps, and Lebanons, and Himalayas. These the utilitarian and ma- terialist will admonish us are needful parts of the world’s mechanism. None theless on that account, a devout mind recognizes them as proofs of goodness in the Deity, The mechanism of human society, for all the practical purposes of life, might work well if there had been no Iomer, no Shakspeare, no Milton; but the wisdom and goodness which ordained that the eye and mind should not be wea- ried with uniform dead levels, and therefore set up the cor- ner-stones of the globe with a view to the benevolent ef- fect upon the earth and its inhabitants, of hills and moun- tains, is pleased here and there to endow men with transcen- dent genivn for the good of the race. They have an cleva- 3 ; ~ 30 THE DIME SPEAKER. « ti ting effect upon mankind by raising the standard of excel- lence; they rebuke our groveling thoughts, purify and en- noble our conceptions, shed a charm over things which otherwise would be tame and wearisome; they are the wine of life; they are angels on the ladder with God Al- mighty above it, filling even our dreams, as well as our , waking hours, with assurances that there is something bet- ter in reserve for all who seek it than they have reached. But these gifts of God, these men of genius, are capable of perversion by us, like all his gifts. Occasional large crops may excite impatience and disconteut in the young man, *through his desire for a region where profuse vegetation is the general rule. Those special seasons in which God is pleased to turn the attention of men in great numbers to the subject of religion, tempt some te neglect Christian ef- fort, and to look continually after phenomenal events in the religious world. Thus the fame of genius awakens in some the desire to shine in the view of men, to the neglect of slow, patient industry, as providential success in busi ness tempts others to’ make adventures at the risk of their regular calling and their integrity. But these abuses do not stay the ordinances of heaven. In every department of life, God bestows upon some men certain things which, however cultivated and improved by effort, are, in a special sense, native endowments; they are born in these men, and with their features and structure, are written in God’s book, EARLY RETIRING AND RISING. By Dow, Jr. Textr.—Larly to bed, and early to rise, * Makes aman healthy, wealthy, and wise. My Hearers: The: text I have chosen for my present discourse is most beautifully homely; but it contains the keen kernels of truth, without husk, or chaff. All the brute creation close their peepers at the setting of the sun, save such as see best in the dark, and whose deeds are evil: why should man be an exception, since he is not an owl, nor a bat, that sleeps through the day for te want of properly-adapted optics? Isee no reason under the planet of Jupiter, why you should not ‘go to bed as soon as Evening empties her soot-bag upon the earth, and get ~ e a Se et v4 31 out of itat the first brush of morn. Even.ten hours’ sleep would do you no harm, after you get used to it; andI know that most of you are able to bear almost twice the quantity without a grunt. ’ My dear friends, look at that man, the early riser. The rose of health blooms upon’ his cheek; his eye sparkles with the fire and glow of youth; his step is as elastic as though his legs were set with wire spiral-springs, and his body composed of india-rubber. He is strong, too; ay, stronger than last winter’s butter—stronger than an argu- ment—stronger than*a horse, and tougher than bull-beef. He can outjunsp, outwalk, outrun, and outlive any human being that never leaves his bed-chamber until nine o'clock, T don’t care where you bring him from—whether from the hardy Greenland, or from the soft, sunny clime of the equator. He is infusible. He is not to be fried in his own fat by the melting heat of a midsummer’s sun; and he can bare his bosom to the bitter northern blast, with no more sign of a shake ora shiver, than the Bunker-Hill Monu- EARLY RA&TIRING AND RISING. ‘ment in a snow-storm. Oh, you puny, sickly, saffron-skinned sluggards, that never see the sun rise! You lose a glorious sight—an ex- hibition that affords more delight to both eye and soul than all the shows ever presented to mortal view, the Northern Lights and Barnum’s Museum not excepted. 1 can’t paint the picture. When I think of it, discouraged Fancy drops her pencil at once, and says it’s no use. Try and get up and take a peep for yourselves, for once in your lives; then, if you think it a humbug, go to bed again and snooze till the day of judgment, for aught I care. But how do you feel, shaking your feathers, with the sun hard upon the meridian? Rather streaked, I imagine-—almost afraid to venture into the streets, for fear your shadows should laugh at you. You muster up courage to sally out. “Shocking steamboat accident that, according to the ac- counts in the morning papers!” says an acquaintance whom you happen to meet. ‘“‘ What ae—oh—oh, yes, shock- iag, very shocking, indeed!—good-day,” and on you speed, with a most nervous rapidity, for fear of being further inter- rogated about what you ought to have known hours before. You morning sleepers! know you not that you lose by drib- blets the very honey of life, the very quintessence of all that is bright, lovely, and joyful in existence? You do, while 82 THE DIME SPEAKER. others are alive, stirring about, securing health, accumula- ting wealth, happy and merry as larks; you lie as dead as so many logs, intellectually decaying, morally rotting, and corporeally consuming. Arise ye! Arise ye! Shake off sloth, even as the lion shaketh the dew from his mane; go out and behold the beauties of the morn in all their glory and magnificence, and become healthier, wealthier, wiser, and handsomer human beings than you are. ’ ARTEMAS WARD'S ORATION,* Tyy 4, 1859. Fecier Cirrersuns—lI hav bin onered with a invite to orate be4 you on this grate & gellorious day ‘The feelins which I feel on this occasion is more easier imagined than described. Wethersfield is justly distinguished for her onyuns and patertism the Wurld over, and to be requested to paws and address you on this, my fust perfeshernal tower to New Englan, rayther takes me down and fills my sole with various kinds of emoshuns. I cum befour you With no hily manured intelleck. You wont git no floury langwidge out of me. Ime a plane man—a exhibier of startlin curiositys, livin wild Beests & sich like, & what I shall say will be rite strate out and to the pint. Ime no pollytishun, I have no enemys to reward or frends to spunge. Ime a Union man, I luv this Union from the Bottum of my Hart. I luv every hoop pole in Maine and every sheep ranch in Texas. The cow pastures of New Hampshire is as dear to A. Ward as the rice plan- tashuns of Mississippy. There is mean critters in both of them air States and there is likewise good men and troo. It don’t look very pretty fur a lot of inflammertary indi- viduals who never liftid their hands in defence of Ameriky or did the fust thing towards skewerin our independunce to git their backs up and sware they'll dissolve the Union. Two mutch good Blud was spilt in courtin end marryin that hily respectable female, the Goddess of Liberty, to get a divorce from her at this late day. The old gal has behaved herself two well to cast her off now; at the re- *These three extracts are one oration, and can be spoken, consecn ’ tively assuch. We havearranget tho “ Oration” into three pa for . Resor of tho boy who can not spare tho time to the ARTEMAS WARD’S ORATION. 33 quest of a parsul of addle-braned men and he wimin, who never did nobody no good and never will again. Ime sor- ry the picters of the Goddess never give her. no shoes or stockins, but the band of stars around her hed must con- tinner to shine briter and briter so long as this Erth re- solves round.on her own axle tree. Ime for the Union now and forever, and may the hand of the fust,onery cuss whither who attempts to bust her up. i 4 « THE SAME. Fetter Cirrersuns—I hain’t time to notis the growth of Ameriky frum the time when the Mayflayers:cum over inthe Pilgrim and brawt: Plymmuth Rock /with them, but every skool boy nose our kareer has bin tremenjis. You will excuse me if I don’t prase the erly settlers of the Kol- onies. Peple which hung idiotic old wimin for witches, burnt holes in Quakers’ tongues, and consigned their feller critters to the tredmill and pillery on the slitest provo- ‘eashun, may hav bin very nice folks in their way, but I must confess I don’t admire their stile and will drop them all. I spose they ment well, and so, in thé novel and techin langwidge of the nusepapers, “‘ pese to their ashes.” Thare was no diskount, however, on them brave men who fit, bled, and died in the American Revolushun. We needn't be afraid of setting’em up two steep. Like my Show, they will stand a heep of prase. G. Washing . ton was abowt the best man this world ever sot eyes on, and I hope them noble ladies (may their shadders never grow less!) who are tryin to purchis his old humsted will hurry up their cakes, as:if they don’t it is hily proberble the present owner will dig up his grate namesake’s bones, put them in a glass cage, and go into partnership with sum enterprisin showman, J think the shivalrus man is adequate for any thing in a money-makin line. To resoom—G, Washington was a clear heded, warm charted, brave and stidy goin man, . He never siopt ovER! The prevailin weakness of most publick men is to SLOP OVER! They git filled up & slop. They Rush Things. -They travel two mutch on high presher principle. © ‘git onto the fust poplar hoby hoss whitch trots along, m ¢arin a sent whethor the bevst is even goin, clear si 34 THE DIM#*SPEAKER, and sound, or spavined, blind, and bawky. Of course they git throwed eventooully if not sooner. When they see the mulltitood goin it blind, they go Pel Mel with it, instid of exertin theirselves to set it right. They cant see that the crowd which is now bearing them triumphantly on its shoulders will soon diskiver its error and cast them into the hoss pond of Oblivyun with. out the slitest hesitashun. Washington never Slopt Over, That wasn’t George’s stile. He luved his country dearly. He wasn’t after the spiles. He was a human angil in a 3 kornered hat and knee britches and we shan’t see his like right away. My friends, we can’t all be Washington’s but ove kin all be patriots & behave ourselves in a human and x Christian manner. When we see a brother goin down hill to Ruin let us not give hima push, but let us seeze rite hold of his coat-tail and drag him back to Morality. y _. THE SAME, _ Ferntree Cirrersuns—Be sure and vote at least once at all elecshuns. Buckle on yer Armer and go to the Poles. See too it that yer naber is there. See that the kripples ‘are provided with carriages. Go to the poles and stay all day. Bewair of the infamus lise which the Opposishun will be sartin to git’ up fur perlitercal effeck on the eve of eleckshun. To the poles! to the poles! & when you git . there vote jest as you darn please. This is a privilege we e persess and it is 1 of the boaties o* this grate and free nd. : Isee much to admire in New Englan. Your gals in particklar are abowt as snug-built peaces of Caliker as I ever saw. They are fully equal to, the corn fed gals of Obio and Injianny and will make the bestest kind of wives. Tt sets my Buzzum on fire tg look at ’em. Be still my sole, be still, & you Hart, stop cuttin up. Whitch affeckttin lines .is either from the pen of Govner Morrill of Maine or Doctur Watts, I disremember whitch. - Ilike your skool houses, your meetin houses, your en- terprise, gumpshum, &c., but your favorit Bevrige I des- pise. Iallude to New Englan Rum.. It is wus nor the whisky of Injianny, which eats threw stun jugs, > TRUE NATIONALITY. 35 and will turn the stummuck of the most shiftlis Hog. I seldom seek consolashun in the flowin Bole, but.tother day I wurrid down sum of your Rum. The fust glass in- dused me to sware like an infooriated trooper. On takin’ the seckund glass I was seized with a desire to*brake win- ders, and arter imbibin the third glass, I knockt a small boy down, pickt his pocket of a New York Ledger, and wildly kummenced readin Sylvanus Kobb’s last Tail. I verily do bleeve that if I’d histed in another glass I should hay bin desperit enuff to attack the Mount Vernon Papers. - Its drefful stuff—a sort of lickwid litenin gut up under the personal supervishun of the devil—tears men’s innards .all to peaces and makes their noses blossum as the Lob- ster. Shun it as you wooda wild hydny with a fire brand tide to his tale, & while you are abowt it you will du a fust rate thing for yourself and everybody abowt you by shun- nin all kinds of intoxicatin, lickers.. You don’t need ’em no more’n.a cat needs 2 tales, sayin nothin abowt the trub- ble and sufferin they cawse. But unless your innards air cast iron avoid New Englan’s favorite beyrige. ; My friends, Ime dun. I tare myself away from you with tears in my eyes & a pleasant odor of Onyuns abowt my close. In the langwidge of Mr. Catterline to the Rumuns, I go but perhaps I shall cum back agin. Adoo, pepel of Wethersfield. Be virtoous & you'll be happy. TRUE NATIONALITY.—Rufus Choate. 1858. Tur Ethics of a true nationality teach the true subordina- tion, and the true reconciliation of apparently incompatible duties. These only are the casuists, or the safest casuists for us, Learn from them how to adjust this conflict be- tween patriotism and philanthropy. To us, indeed, there seems to be no such conflict, for we are philanthropist, in proportion as we are unionists. Our philanthropy we venture to say, isa just philanthropy. That is all. It loves all men, it helps all men, it respects all rights, keeps all compacts, recognizes all dangers, pities all suffering, ignores no fact, master and slave it enfolds alike. It happens ‘thus that it contracts the sphere of our duty somewhat, and changes not the nature but the time, the place, the mode of performing them. It does not make our love cold, 36 THE DIME SPEAKER. but it makes it safe; it naturalizes it, it baptizes it into our life; it circumscribes it within our capacities and our ne- cessities; itsets on it the great national public seal. If you say that thus our patriotism limits our philanthropy, T answer that ours is American philanthrqpy. Be this the virtue wé boast, and this the name by which we know it. In this name, in this quality, find the standard and the ut- terance of the virtue itself. By this, not by broad phylac- teries and chief seats ; the keener hate, the gloomier fanati- cism, the louder ery, judge, compare, subordinate. Do they think that nobody is a philanthropist but themselves ? We, too, look up the long vistaand gaze wraptat the dazzling ascent; we, too, see towers rising, crowned, imperial, and the tribes coming to bend in the opening of a latter day. But we see peace, order, reconciliation of rights along that brightening future. We trace all along that succession of reform, the presiding instrumentalities of national life: We see our morality working itself clearer and clearer; one historical and conventional right or wrong, after an- other, falling peacefully and still; we hearthe chain break- ing, but there is no blood on it, none of his whom it bound, none of his who put it on him; we hear the swelling chorus of the free, but master and slave unite in that chorus and there is no disordant shriek above the harmony ; we 'see and we hail the blending of our own glory with the eternal light of God, but we see, too, shapes of love and beauty ascending and descending there as in the old vision! Hold fast this hope; distrust the philanthropy, distrust the ethics which would, which must, turn it intoshame. Do no evil that evil may come. Perform your share, for you have a share, in the abolition of slavery ;..perform your share, for you havea share, in the noble and generous strife of the sections—but perform it by keeping, by trans- mitting, a united, loving and Christian America. But why, at last, do I exhort, and why do Iseem'to fear; on such a day as this? Is it not the nation’s birthday? Is it not this country of our love and hopes, which cele: brates it? Thi& music of the glad march, these banners of pride and beauty, these memories so fragrant, these resolu- tions of patriotism, so thoughtful, these hands pressed, these congratulations and huzzaings and tears, this great heart throbbing audibly,—are they not hers, and do they not assure us? These forests of masts, these singing OUR NATAL DAY. 837 workshops of labor, these fields and plantations whitening for the harvest, this peace and plenty, this sleeping thunder, these bolts in the closed, strong talon, do not they tell us of her health, her strength, and her future? This shadow that flits across our grasses and is gone, this shallow ripple that darkens the surface of our broad and widening stream, and passes away, this little perturbation which our tele- scopes can not find, and which our science caa hardly find, but which we know can not change the course or hasten the doom of one star; have these any terror for us? And he who slumbers not, nor sleeps, who keeps watchfully. the city of his love, on whose will the life of nations is suspend- ed, and to whom all the shields of the earth belong, our father’s God, is he not our God, and of whom, then, and of what shall we be afraid ?” OUR NATAL DAY.—dem. It is well that in our year, so busy, so secular, 80 dis- cordant, there comes one day when the word is, and, when the emotion is, ‘‘our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country.” It is well. that law—our only sovereign on earth—duty, not less the daughter of God, not less within her sphere supreme—custom not old alone, but honored and useful—memories, our hearts, haye set a time in which—scythe, loom, and anvil stilled, shops shut, wharves silent, the flag—our flag unrent—the flag of our glory and commemoration waving on mast-head, steeple, and highland, we may come together and walk hand in hand, thoughtful, admiring, through these galleries of civil greatness. when we may own together the spell of one hour of our history upon us all; when faults may be for- gotten, kindnesses revived, virtues remembered. and sketched unblamed; when the arrogance of refoftn, the ex- cesses of reform, the strifes of pérties, the rivalries of re- gions, shall give place to a wider, warmer, and juster sen- timent; when turning from the corners dnd dark. places of offensiveness, if such the candle lighted by malignity or envy, or censoriousness, or truth-has revealed anywhere ; when turning from these, we may go up to the serene and secret mountain-top, and there pause, and there unite in the. reverent exclamation, and in the exultant prayer, 4 38 THE DIME SPEAKER. “How beautiful at last are thy tabernacles! What people at last is like unto thee! Peace be within thy palaces and joy within thy gates! The high places are thine, and there shalt thou stand proudly, and innocently, and se- eurely.” ; * 4 INTELLIGENCE THE TRUE BASIS OF LIBERTY.—Jdem, How well said Washington—who said all things, as he did all things, well—‘‘that in proportion as governments rest on public opinion, that opinion must be enlightened.” There must then be intelligence at the foundation. But ~ what intelligence ? Not that which puffeth up, I fancy, not flippancy, not smartness, not sciolism, whose fruits, whose expression, are vanity, restlessness, insubordination, hate, irreverence, unbelief, incapacity to combine ideas, and great capacity to overwork a single one. Not quite this. ,This is that little intelligence and little learning which are dangerous. These are the characteristics, [ have read, which pave the way for the downfall of States; not those on which a long glory and a long strength have towered. These, more than the General of Macedon, gave the poison to Demosthenes in the Island Temple. These; not the triuihvirate alone, closed the eloquent lips of Cicero. These, before the populous North had done it, spread be- neath Gibraltar tc the Lybian sands in the downward age ; these, not Christianity, not Goth, not Lombard, nor Nor- man, rent that fair one, Italy, asunder, and turned the gar- den and the mistress of the earth into a school, into a hiding place of assassins—of spies from Austria, of spies from France, with gold to buy and ears to catch and pun- ish the dreams of liberty whispered in sleep, and shamed the memories and hopes of Machiavel and Mazzini, and gave for that joy and that beauty, mourning and heavi- ness. This is not the intelligence our Constitution means, Washington meant, our country needs. It is imtelligence which, however if begins, ends with belief, with humility, with obedience, with veneration, with admiration, with truth; which recognizes: and then learns and then teaches the duties of a comprehensive citizenship; which hopes for a future on earth and beyond earth, but turns habitual- ly, reverently, thoughtfully to the old paths, the great men, BOLFERINO. - 89 the hallowed graves of the fathers; which binds in one bundle of love the kindred and mighty legend of revolution and liberty, the life of Christ in the Evangelists, and the Constitution in its plain text; which can read with Lord Chatham, Thucydides and the stories of master states of antiquity; yet holds with him that the papers of the Con- gress of 1776 were better; whose patrjotism grows warm at Marathon, but warmer at Monmouth, at Yorktown, at Bunker Hill, at Saratoga; which reforms by preserving, serves by standing and waiting, fears God and honors America, SOLFERINO.—By Anon, Won isthe battle; Fearful its history, Making plain mystery Unto the dead. Swift, marching silently, Strong as the flood Of old ocean, their destiny Letter’d in blood, ‘ They move on. See! They meet With a terrible shock, } As the waves are thrown back From the ocean-bound rock, , Are they hurl’d to their doom, And the ery of despair, As they fall, goes to God In its wail through the air. . Bright plumes are waving, Strong men are braving Death by the shot, And the shell, And the’spear, Crying and moaning, Gasping and groaning: What is it for? And why are they here? Swords cross’d, are flashing, Oannon-balls crashing, THE DIME SPEAKER. Bayonets clashing, Crimson’d with gore; Death demons hovering, Cries for life smothering, Fiends ofthe battle Hold revel once more, Awful the penalty— Wide yawns the grave— Thousands are dying— Nothing can save. Grim shadows falling Fast on the sight, Darkness appalling— The blackness of night, Hark! it is music— A requiem ‘sad For the slain on the field In their war-trappings clad, How solemn the tone— Its harmony broke By the death-shriek alone Or the black vulture’s croak, Mothers are weeping, Fathers look stern, » Orphans are shrieking, Fair maidens mourn; Sorrow they all For the loved ones afar, Crush’d to the earth By the bloodhounds of war, Dark 1s the future With heart-aching fears, Sad are their epitaphs Written in tears, % § ” 41 CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE, THE WAR.—By Alfred Tennyson. Tuere is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the South that darkens the day, Storm of battle and thunder of war; Well if it do not roll our way. Storm! storm! Riflemen form! Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form ! Be not deaf to the sound that warns! Be not gnll’d by the despot’s plea! Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns? How should a despot set men free? Form! form! Riflemen form! Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form! Let your reforms for a moment go, Look to your butts and take good aims, Better a rotten borough or so, Than a rotten fleet or a city in Hames! Form! form! riflemen form! ~ Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, riflemen, riflamen form! Form, be ready to do or die! Form in Freedom’s name and the Queen’s: True, that we have a faithful ally, But only the Devil knows what he means. Form! form! Riflemen form! Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form! THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE,—Dy Tennyson. Hatr a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred, | os “- THE DIME SPEAKER. For up came an order which Some one had blunder’d. “Forward, the Light Brigade! Take the guns,” Nolan said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Forward the Light Brigade! No man was there dismay’d, Not though the soldier knew Some one had blunder’d: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley’d and thunder’d Storm’d at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. Flash’d all their sabres bare Flash’d all at once in air Sabring the gunners there, © Charging an army, while All the world wonder’d: Plunged in the battery smoke, With many a desperate stroke The Russian line they broke; Then they rode back, but noi, Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley’d and thunder’d ; Storm’d at with shot and shell, a AFTER THE BATTLE, While horse and hero fell, Those that had fought so well Came from the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, “> All that was left of them, Left of six hundred* When can their glory fade? Oh, the wild charge they made! All the world wonder’d. Honor the charge they made! Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred! AFTER THE BATTLE.—/rom Chambers’ Journal. 1859. Tue drums are all muffled; the bugles are still; There’s a pause in the valley—a halt on the hill; And the bearers of standards swerve back with a thrill Where the sheaves of the dead bar the way ; For a great field is reap’d, heaven’s garners to fill, And stern Death holds his harvest to-day. There’s a voice on the winds like a spirit’s low ery— *Tis the muster-roll sounding—and who shall reply ? Not those whose wan faces glare white to the sky, With eyes fixed so steadfast and dimly, As they wait that last trump which they may not defy, Whose hands clutch the sword-hilt so grimly. The brave heads late lifted are solemnly bow'd, And the riderless chargers stand quivering and cow’d, As the burial requiem is chanted aloud, The groans of the death-stricken drowning ; While Victory looks on, like a queen, pale and proud, Who waits till the morrow her crowning. Chere is no mocking blazon, as clay sinks to clay ; The ‘vain pomps of the peace-time are all swept away In the terrible face of the dread battle-day : Nor coffins nor shroudings are here; Only relics that lay where thickest the fray— A rent casque and a headless spear. * 44 THE DIME SPEAKBn. Far away, tramp on tramp, peals the march of the foe, Like a storm-wave’s retreating—spent, fitful, and slow, With sounds like their spirits that faint as they go By yonred-flowing river whose waters Shall darken with sorrow the land where they flow To the eyes of her desolate daughters. They are fled—they are gone; but oh! not as they came, In the pride of those numbers they staked on the game, Never more shall they stand in the vanguard of Fame, Never lift the stain’d sword which they drew; Never more shall they boast of a glorious name, = Never march with the leal and the true. Where the wreck of our legions lay stranded and lorn, They stole on our ranks in the mists of the morn, Like the giants of Gaza, their strength it was shorn Ere those mists had roll’d up to the sky: From the flash of our steel a new day-break seem’d born As we sprang up—to conquer or die. The tumult is silenced; the death-lots are cast ; And the heroes of battle are slumbering their last, Do ye dream of yon pale form that rode on the blast? Would ye free it once more, O ye brave? 7 Yes! the broad road to Honor is red where ye pass’d, -And of Glory ye asked but—a grave! THE GLASS RAILROAD.—By George Lippard. {This fine piece is to be recited as if the speaker were simply tellin hig dream to a circle of friends, with no effort, or oratorical display. Ir seemed to me as though Ihad been suddenly aroused from my slumber. I looked around and found myself in the center of a gay crowd. The first sensation I experienced was that of being borne along, with a peculiar motion. J] looked around and found that I was in a long train of cars which were gliding over a railway, andseemed to be many miles in length. It was composed of many cars. Every _ car, open at the top, was filled with men and women, all gayly dressed, and happy, and all laughing, talking, and . singing. The peculiarly gentle motion of the cars interest- * edme, There was no grating such as we usuajly hear on the > THE GLASS RAILROAD 45 railroad. They moved along without the least jar or sound. This, I say, interested me. I looked over the side, and to my astonishment found the railroad and cars made of glass. The glass'wheels moved over the glass rails without the least noise or oscillation. The soft gliding motion pro- duced a feeling of exquisite happiness. Iwas happy! It seemed as every thing was at rest within—I was full of peace. While I was wondering over this circumstance, a new sight attracted my gaze. Allalong thé road on either side, within a foot of the track, were laid long lines of coffins on either side of the railroad, and every one contained a corpse dressed for burial, with its cold white face turned upward to. the light. The sight filled me with horror; I yelled in agony, but could make no sound. The gay throng who were around me only redoubled their singing and laughter at the sight of my agony, and we swept on, gliding on with glass wheels over the railroad, every mo- ment coming nearer to the bend of the road, which formed an angle with the road far, far in the distance. “Who are those?” I cried at last, pointing to the dead in the coffins. “These are the persons who made the trip before us,” was the reply of one of the gayest persons near me. “What trip?” Lasked. “Why, the -trip you are now making; the trip on this glass railway,” was the answer, “Why do they lie along the road, each one in his cof- fin?” I wasanswered with a whisper and a half laugh which froze my blood: “They were dashed to death atthe end of the railroad,” said the person whom I addressed. “You know the railroad terminates at an abyss which is without bottom or measure. It is lined with pomted rocks, As each car arrives at the end it’ precipitates its passengers into the abyss. They are dashed to pieces » against the rocks, and their bodies are brought here and placed in the coffiins asa warning to other passengers; but no one minds it, we are so happy on the glass railroad.” Tcan never describe the horrgr with which those words inspired me. ® “ What is the name of the glass railroad?” Iasked. _ The person whom I asked, replied in the same strain: » s . 46 THE DIME SPEAKER. “Tt is very easy to get into the cars, but very hard to get out. For, once in these, everybody is delighted with the soft, gliding motion. The carsmove gently. Yes, this is a railroad of habit, and with glass wheels we are whirled over a glass railroad towards a fathomless abyss. In a few moments we’ll be there, and they'll bring our bodies and put them in coffins as a warning to others; but nobody will mind it, will they ?” I-was choked with horror. I struggled to breathe~ made frantic efforts to leap from the cars, and in the strug- gle Lawoke. I know it was only a dream, and yet when- ever Ithink of it, Ican see that long train of cars moving gently over the glass railroad. I can see cars far ahead, as. they are turning the bend of the road. I can see the dead in their coffins, clear and distinct on either side of the road; while the laughing’and singing of the gay and happy passengers resound in my ears, I only see the cold faces of the dead, with their glassy eyes uplifted, and ‘their frozen hands upon their shrouds. It was, indeed, a horrible dream. A long train of glass cars, gliding over a glass railway, freighted with youth, beauty, and music, while on either hand are stretched the victims of yesterday—gliding over the railway of habit toward the fathomless abyss. “There was a moral in that dream.” “Reader, are you addicted to any sinful habit? Break it off ere you dash against the rocks.” THE CASE OF MR. MACBETH.—By F. A. D. In Macbeth, Shakspeare seems to have designed a dis, play of the disadvantages of being henpecked; for Mrs. Macbeth, though a Scotchwoman, is also a Tartar. She was the original Mrs. Caudle, and her curtain lectures changed her husband from a quiet performer on the Scot- tish violin and an ardent lover of rappee, to an ambitious seeker after royalty. As there is a long step between his original position and that of the monarch of Scotland, hoe determines to succeed in his, or rather in his wife’s object, by imitating the Catholic Priests, and cutting off all the hairs (heirs) tothe Crown. Hence he receives Duncan into THE CASE OF MR. MACBETH. 47 his castle with the cheerful politeness manifested by the spider to the fly: «¢Won't you walk into my parlor ?” Said the spider to the fly.” Duncan goes to bed. Macbeth, in what we always sup- posed to be an access of delirium tremens, sees double, —that is, he sees a dagger in the air and another in his own hand. He walks into his guest’s room, the door of which the latter has forgotten to lock, without stumbling over his boots in the entry, and giving him his quietus, walks out again as if he had performed rather a merito- rious action. When the deed is discovered, he lynches a couple of servants whom he charges with the crime. We forgot to mention that his success had been predicted to him by three old maiden ladies who met him and told his fortune on what Shakspeare, with the reprehensible coarse- ness of his period, calls a ‘‘ blasted heath,” Macbeth giving them half a crown to insure him a whole one. By force of habit as well as principle, he next has his friend Banquo killed—but the latter gentleman amuses himself by rising from the grave and reappearing to Macbeth at the supper- table, with all sorts of unpleasant faces, making himself as disagreeable as possible, until he disappears under the stage by means of a trap-door, to wash off the red-ochre and bury his cares and countenance in a pot of porter, After coming a variety of naughty games, and rendering himself liable to numerous indictments, this “fine old Scottish gentleman” is driven into a corner by one Mr. Macduff, a very spunky and wrathy individual, who does not think the usurper a nice man, and declares the means by which he obtained the gilt-paper coronet that is stuck on the top of his black wig, ‘‘ very tolerable and not to be endured.” ‘To be sure, Macduff is rather prejudiced against the other Mac, from the fact that the latter has chosen to while away a tedious half hour by putting Mrs. | Macduff, and all the little Masters and Misses Macduff “ out of their misery ;” consequently he flares up and fires away and bestows many opprobrious epithets upon Mr. Macbeth, calling him, among other things, a ‘“‘hell-kite,” and using other expressions unbecoming a gentleman and a.scholar. The upshot of it is, that the two Mr. Me’s have a pitched battle. Some commentators have* supposed that previous ~ to this fight Macbeth had become reduced in his cireum- . » 48 THE DIME SPEAKER. stances and sought employment as an hostler, from the fact that he talks about ‘‘dying with harness on his back ;”— but as we have discovered that harness and armor are synonymous, we have come to the conclusion that he might more properly be termed a mail-carrier.. Macbeth had relied upon getting the best of it, because the three maiden ladies above referred to assured him that “Noman of womau born » Could harm Macbeth.” But Macduff being a self-made man, succeeds in flooring his ferocious adversary. What became of the body— whether it was sold to the surgeons, or given to the friends of the deceased (if he had any—we are inclined to infer that he had not, from Macduff’s ‘hitting him”), neither history nor Shakspeare states. In fact, it is of very little importance; and the moral the drama teaches, is the danger of one’s permitting his better-half to wear those habiliments which are the distinguishing characteris tics of the costume of the male sex. THE PROFESSOR ON PHRENOLOGY.*—By Dr Holmes. I satu begin, my friends, with the definition of a Pseudo- science. A Pseudo-science consists of a nomenclature, with a self-adjusting arrangement, by which all positive evidence, or such as favors its doctrines, is admitted; and all negative evidence, or such as tells against it, is ex- eluded. It is invariably connected with some lucrative practical application. Its professors and practitioners are usually shrewd people; they are very serious with the pub- lic, but wink and laugh a good deal among themselves, {ithe believing multitude consists of women of both sexes, feeble-minded inquirers, poetical optimists, people who al- ways get cheated in buying horses, philanthropists who in- sist on hurrying up the millennium, and others of this class, with here and there a clergyman, less frequently a lawyer, very rarely a physician, and almost never a horse- jockey or a member of the detective police. I did not say that Phrenology was one of the Pseudo-sciences. A Pseudo-science does not necessarily consist wholly of *¥From the Atlantic Monthly for August, 1859, . "HE PROFESSOR ON PHRENOLOGY. 49 lies, It may contain many truths, and even valuable ones. The rottenest bank starts with a little specie. It puts out a thousand promises to pay on the strength of a single dol- lar, but the dollar is very commonly a good one. The practitioners of the Pseudo-sciences know that common minds, after they have been baited with a real fact or two, will jump at the merest rag of a lie, or even at the bare hook. When we have one fact found us, we are very apt to supply the next out of our own imagination, (How many persons can read Judges xv. 16, correctly the first time?) The Pseudo-sciences take advantage of this, I did not say that it was so with Phrenology. Ihave rarely met a sensible man who would not allow that there was something in Phrenology. A broad, high forehead, it is commonly agreed, promises intellect; one that is ‘‘ villainous low” and has a huge hind head back of it, is wont to mark an animal nature. I have as rarely met an unbiased and sensible man who really believed in the bumps. It is observed, however, that persons with what the Phrenologists call ‘‘ good heads” are more prone than others toward plenary belief in the doctrine. It is so hard to prove a negative, that, if a man should assert that the moon was in truth a green cheese, formed by the coagulable substance of the Milky Way, ‘and chal- lenge me to prove the contrary, I might be puzzled. But if he offer to sell me a ton of this lunar cheese, I call on him to prove the truth of the caseous nature of our satel- lite, before I purchase. It is not necessary to prove the falsity of the phrenolo- gical statement. It is only necessary to show that its truth is not proved, and can not be, by the common course of argument. The walls of the head are double, with a great air-chamber between them, over the smallest and most closely crowded ‘‘organs.” Can you tell how much money there is in a safe, which also has thick double walls, by kneading its knobs with your fingers? Se when a man fumbles about my forehead, and talks about the organs of Individuality, Size, etc., I trust him as much as I should if he felt of the outside of my strong-box and told me that there was a five-dollar, or a ten-dollar bill under this or that particular rivet. Perhaps there is; only he doesn’t © know any thing about it. But this is a point that I, the Professor, understand, my friends, or ought to, certainly, 5 : , . 7 50 THE DIME SPEAKER. better than you do. The next argument you will all ap- preciate. : I proceed, therefore, toexplain, the self-adjusting mech- anism of Phrenology, which is very similar to that of the Pseudo-sciences. An example will show it most conve- niently. ° A. is a notorious thief. Messrs. Bumpus and Crane ex- amine him gnd find a good-sized organ of Acquisitiveness. Positive fact for Phrenology. Casts and drawings of A. are multiplied, and the bump does not lose in the act of copying. I did not say it gained. What do you look so for? (to the audience). Presently B. turns up, a bigger thief than A. But B. has no bump at all over Acquisitiveness. Negative fact; goes against Phrenology. Nota bit of it. Don’t you see how small Conscientiousness is? TZhat’s the reason B. stole. And then comes C., ten times as much a thief as either A. or B.,—used to steal before he was weaned, and would pick one of his own pockets and put its contents in another, if he could find no other way of committing petty larceny. Unfortunately, C. has a hollow, instead of a bump, over Acquisitiveness. Ah, but just look and see what a bump of Alimentiveness! Did not C. buy nuts and gingerbread, when a boy, with the money he stole? Of course you see why he is a thief, and how his example confirms our noble ‘science. At last comes along a case which is apparently a settler, for there is a little brain with vast and varied powers,—a case like that of Byron, for instance. Then comes out the grand reserve-reason whieh covers everything and renders it simply impossible ever to corner a Phrenologist. ‘It is not the size alone, but the quality of an organ, which de- termines its degree of power.” Oh! oh! I see. The argument may be briefly stated thus by the Phrenologist. ‘Heads I win, tails you lose.” Well, that’s convenient. It must be confessed that Phrenology has a certain re- semblance to the Pseudo-sciences. I did not say it was a Pseudo-science. I have often met persons who have been altogether | struck up and amazed at the accuracy with which some wandering Professor of Phrenology had read their charac- ; } : : ; THE PROFESSOR ON PHRENOLOGY. 51 ters written upon eir skulls, Of course the Professor acquires his information solely through his cranial inspec- tions and manipulations. What are you laughing at? (to the audience). Bunt let us just suppose, for amoment, that a tolerably cunning fellow, who did not know or care any thing about Phrenology, should open a shop and under- take to read off people’s characters at fifty cents or a dol- lar apiece. Let us see how well he could get along with- out the ‘ organs.” = I will suppose myself to set up sucha shop. I would invest one hundred dollars, more or less, in casts of brains, skulls, charts, and other matters that would make the most show for the money. That would do to begin with. I would then advertise myself as the celebrated Professor Brainey, or whatever name I might choose, and wait for my first customer. My first customer is a middle-aged man. I look at him,—ask him a qnestion or two so as to hear him talk. WhenI have got the hang of him, I ask him to sit down, and proceed to fumble his skull, dictating as follows: SCALE FROM 1 TO 10. (Aside observations.) “tomy Amativeness, 7 Most men love the conflicting sex, and all men love to be told they do. Alimentiveness, 8. Don’t you see that he has burst off his lowest waistcoat button with feeding,—hey ? ~ Acquisitiveness, 8. Of course. A middle-aged Yankee. Approbativeness,7.+ Hat well brushed. Hair ditto. - Mark the effect of that plus sign. Self-esteem, 6. His face shows that. Benevolence, 9. That'll please him. Conscientiousness, 8 1-2. That fraction looks first-rate. Mirthfulness, "7. Has laughed twice since he came in. Ideality, 9. That sounds well. Form, Size, Weight, Color, Locality, Hventuality, etc., elc., 4:to 6. Average every thing that can’t be guessed. And so of the other faculties. Of course, you know, that isn’t the way the Phrenol- ogists do. They go only by the bumps. What do you keep laughing so for? (to the audience). I only said that ia the way Zshould practice ‘‘ Phrenology” for a living. * — « . THE DIME SPEAKER. ANNABEL LEE.—By Edgar A.. Pos. Ir was many and many a -year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That maiden there lived whom you may know, By the name of Annabel Lee. f x aN And this maiden she tived with no other though¢ Than to love and be loved by me, I was a child and she was a child, In a kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee ; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling : My beautiful Annabel Lee; “ So that her high-born kinsman came, And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulcher, : In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, } Were envying herand me, } Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, ; In this kingdom by the sea), That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of man far wiser than we ; &s And neither the angels in heaven above Nor the demon down under the sea, E Can ever dissever my soul from the soul | Of the beautiful Annabel Lee, For the moon never beams without bringing dreams » Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes WASHINGTON’S NAME, 53 Of the beautifu. Annabel Lee ; ' And so all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Ofmy darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulcher there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. WASHINGTON’S NAME.—By James G. Percival. Ar the heart of our country the tyrant was leaping, To dye there the point of his dagger in gore, When Washington sprang from the watch he was keeping, And drove back that tyrant in shame from our shore: The cloud that hung o’er us then parted and roll’d Its wreaths far away, deeply tinctured with flame ; And high on its fold : Was a legend that told The brightness that circled our Washington’s name. Long years have roll’d on, and the sun still has brighten’d Our mountains and fields with its ruddiest glow ; ud the bolt that he wielded so proudly, has lighten", With a flash as intense, in the face of the foe : On the land and the sea, the wide banner has roli’d O’er many a chief, on his passage to fame ; And still on its fold Shine in letters of gold The glory and worth of our Washington’s name. And so it shall be, while Eternity tarries, ._ And pauses to tread in the footsteps of Time; The bird of the tempest, whose quick pinion carrieg Our arrows of vengeance, shall hover sublime : Wherever that flag on the wind shall be roll’d, All hearts shall be kindled with anger and shame, If e’er they are told They are careless and cold, In the glory that circles our Washington’ ‘3 name, 6* THE DIME SPEAKER. THE SAILOR BOY’S SYREN.—Ohio Pauper. A saitor Boy lay in his hammock at rest, With visions of loved ones around his rope nest, Nor knew he the tempest abroad on the deep, Nor the Syren that chanted this song in his sleep: ‘Sleep on! sleep on! sailor boy! calm be thy sleep; The waves are fierce rolling, and dark is the deep: Thy covering is warm, press’d close to thy breast—~ ‘ And firm is the fast’ning of thy close-netted nest : Sleep on! sleep on! ‘Sleep on! for there are wailings above and below, And darkness and terror are wild in their woe; The brave ship is staggering heavily on, But thy hammock shall buoy thee safely along: Sleep on! sleep on! “Sleep on! for stout hearts on deck are at prayer, Wild shouting and shrieking for mercy and care ; The rigging is loosed to the howl and the storm, But thy nest is firm fastened, thy covering warm: Sleep on! sleep on! “ Ay! sleep on, sailorboy,though the wreck strew the gale, There’s many a tongue to tell the sad tale ; Thy hammock shall bear thee, down, down in the deep, Though its fastening is loosed, sleep on, I will keep: : Sleep on! sleep on!” And he woke from his sleep with the hiss of the wave Calling aloud for a strong arm to save; But the glare of the light revealed him afloat Far away from his comrades in the life-boat ; With hammock around him hesank in the deep, While the Syren that kept him, sang—sleep, sleep, sleep— Sleep on! sleep on! JERIAIM JEBOOM’S ORATION. 55 JERIAH JEBOOMS’ ORATION.— California Paper. Fe,Low-Repvusiicans AND Fre~iow-Surrerrrs: I am a plain and modest man, born at an early period of my ex- istence. I have struggled from the obscurity, to which an unlucky star had doomed me, till I have risen like a bright exhalation in the evening to the summit of human greatness and grandeur. Gentlemen, I profess no princi- ples—unfortunately I have none. On the unhappy ocea- sion of my birth, a dismal and melancholy man, clothed in the somber hues of mourning, swapped me for another baby, and subsequently lost me at a raffle. Sad event; But who can control his fate? We are the creatures of destiny—‘‘there is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will.” I was. intended by nature for a great statesman. Had I lived in the days of Hannibal, I should have beaten that great chieftain in crossing the Alps; and it is a dead certain thing, that.I could have dis- tanced Cortez in crossing the Isthmus. He never per- formed the feats I have did; he never came up the Chagres River in a canoe, with a deaf and dumb “hombre,” without a red cent, or change of summer apparel. ‘ But a light heart and a thin pair of breeches goes merrily through the world.” ; Sir, every man who has come here is a Columbus! He comes here to discover new diggins. IamaColumbus. I was dead broke at home, as Columbus was, and I have come here to strike a new vein. But Iam not going to the mines! Oh, no. You don’t catch me up to my waist in ice-water with a juvenile pick-axe and an incipient crow- bar, laboring under a sun of one hundred degrees in the shade, to dig out filthy lucre, No, sir! I am not on that lay. I hate labor—it was an invention to vex mankind. I prefer an office, one that is lucrative and not laborious ; what you call asinecure. Andif Ican not get one myself, I will go in for any man who will divide on the dead level and no splits. Sir, where will you find a glorious coun- try like this? Talk not of the oriental gorgeousness of __ eastern countries. Tell us not of the fairy scenes which poets, who revel in the great warm bath of heavenly ima- ginations, paint with golden pens on leaves of satin. The . description of this beautiful country should be written with the golden wand of an angel dipped in the softest a e 7 a 56 THE DIME SPEAKER. rays of a sunbeam, upon the blushing and delicate surface of a rose leaf. Excuse me, gentlemen, I except only the rainy season and the time when the dust flies. our native land, we honor her flag,—and would rob the custom-house, if we had a fair show. not put on airs, or we will take charge of the custom-house and post-office, and make a muss generally. Them is my sentiments, gentlemen. A DUTCH CURE.—By Anon. Ven I lays myself down in my lonely pet-room, Und dries for to sleep very sound ; De treams, oh, how into my het dey vill come Till I vish I was under de ground. Sometimes, ven I eats von big supper, I treams, Dat my stomack is filt full of shtones, Und out in my sleep, like de night-owl I schreams Und kicks off te ped-clothes and groans. Den dare, ash I lay mit te pet clothes all off, LI kits myself all over froze ; In de morning I vakes mit de het-ache an’ koff, Und I’m shick from mine het to mine toes. Ob, vat shall pe dun for a poor man like me— Oh, vat for Ileat such a life! Some shays dere’s a cure for dis trouble ofme—~ Dink I'll try it—and kit mea vire. THE WEATHER.—By O. W. Holmes. In’s far in June—its late in June— The month of leaves and roses— And pleasant light should meet the eyes, And pleasant smells the noses; They say that time is on the wing, And on the autumn gaining, But who would know it when it is Perpetually raining. ‘ We love But Congress must THE HEATED TERM, I got my summer pantaloons A month ago o’ Monday, And I have never had a chance To sport em even one day; It’s time for all the pleasant things, For walking, riding, training, But there is nothing in the world, But raining, raining, raining. There’s Jane has stay’d at home until She’s white as an albino, And simple Sue is in a fret To wear her Navarino; “The wash” is soaking in the tub, The cambric muslins staining, And human nature’s in the dumps With raining, raining, raining. The weathercock has rusted Hast, The blue sky is forgotten, The earth’s a saturated sponge, And vegetation’s rotten, I hate to see the “darkest side,” Thate to be complaining, But hang me if my temper stands This raining, raining, raining. THE HEATED TERM.— By Enos B, Resd. Tue sun is very hot to-day, And every one we meet, Makes exclamations tending to Intensify the heat. One’s not inclined to take a spree And roam the streets about; Tis foolish taking ‘‘ hot within.” When ’tis so “hot without.” There’s neighbor Jones the other day Was struck down in a trice, And had to keep his body cool By packing it in ice, THE DIM& SPEAKER, And neighbor Smith fell in a fit, While walking on the street ; Some say ’twas caused by what he eat, But we say ’twas the heat. *Tis death to stay within the house, And death to go outside— " He who escapes the heated term, eS Should straight be deified. Tis folly to attempt to sleep— To make a faint, and snore, °Tis best to seek a shady spot, F On some soft cellar-door. “Keep cool!” exclaimsa smother’d friend ; But surely ’tis a joke, For how, we ask, can one keep cool, When ice is seen to smoke ? The very air we breathe is hot, ‘ \ And as it comes and goes, , Our bodies seem like ovens in A lot of smoking clothes. z= We’ve read of icebergs and the like, Within the frozen pole— We're half inclined to emigrate, To keep our body whole We can not read—we can not write— ; We're wedged as in a vice: : We'll have to cease this iceless verse Till Blair sends down some ice. | PHILOSOPHY APPLIED—By Dr. Le Grana, Heieu-no! what a world is this— Full of thorns and flowers: How few the moments of exquisite bliss— How many the weary hours, AN OLD BALLAD, A Hope laughs in our face to-day— ~* A grief is here to-morrow ; While vainly we bid the cherish’d to stay To chase away our sorrow, A love 1s nere—but the Loved is gone a a Over the Lethian river, And we weep to struggle with life alone, ° Chiding the good All Giver, Endure, O soul, the heart should know Tears are the boon of living ; 4 Then, ever content as onward we go, Let us be always giving. Giving of hope to the weary and sad— And gold where Hunger holds revel— Giving of smiles to the joyous and glad— And—giving false maids to the \ whe speaker retiring ere the word is spoken. '. | * AN OLD BALLAD. ! i Tere was an old lady, And what do you think ?— She lived upon nothing But victuals and drink ; Victuals and drink ; Were the chief of her diet, { And yet this old lady ; Could never be quiet. | . This little old lady, ef tt> On dying, we find, { Left nothing, except “A large fortune behind; So pity her fate, Gentle hearers, and say Such women are not Psi To be found every day, 60 THE DIME SPEAKER. PENNY WISE AND. POUND FOOLISH.—By Rev. Stowell vrown, of Liverpool. : Tue “ penny wise and pound foolish” principle 1s often illustrated by the system on which many people act in al- most all their purchases. The rage for cheap things seems to be the order of the day. Under the shelter of this word “ cheap,” the vilest trash, in food, in drink, in cloth- ing, in furniture, in implements, is sold in‘enormous quan- tities. Perhaps there is not a more delusive word in our language, for, generally speaking, the cheapness of an ar- ticle is the result of deterioration; in proportion to its cheapness, is its nastiness, its worthlessness. What you buy dirt cheap, usually és dirt. I have heard of a gentle- man who went into a great clothing establishment in Lon- don, and bought himself a suit, at a remarkably low figure. He was delighted with his purchase, and next morning sal- lied forth for his office in the city, dressed in his new tog- gery, and pleased to observe how well it fitted him, and how becoming it was in all respects; but he had not pro- ceeded far, when first one seam and then another gave way; in a few minutes he was in rags, and was compelled to take refuge in a cab, and be driven back in confusion ~ to his lodgings, convinced that he for one had been “ pen- ny wise and pound foolish.” In one way or another, I dare say we have all of us made a discovery of the folly which prompts people to patronize the diyt-cheap system. It is always the most expensive in the long’run—tfor a good article will always command a good price; and that which is very low in figure, proclaims itself low in quality as well; and many of the things that are paraded before the gaping public as extraordinarily cheap, would really be very dear at any price. I often see advertisements headed “Great Bargains!” What am I to make of such an an- nouncement? for a bargain may be good or bad. Our friend who bought the clothes which fell to tatters in the street, had a very great bargain, but a great bad one. If the advertisement were headed “ good bargains,” there would be some sense in it; though even then it would re- main to be decided whether the good bargain was on the side of the customer or of the shopkeeper, and I incline to think it is generally in favor of the latter; at all events, in this pufling age, when, of a multitude of shopkeepers, every Ss , TRUE CLEANLINESS. i 61 one declares that his is the best and cheapest house in the trade, that his stock is unrivaled in the world, that he is selling off to make alterations in the premises, and that such an opportunity seldom presents itself, &c., it may be well to remember our old proverb, lest, enticed and tempt- ed by such promises, and by the fine appearance which, by various artful dodges, is given to every vile piece of trumpery, and especially to the vilest, we should discover, when too late, that we have been ‘“‘ penny wise and pound foolish.” TRUE CLEANLINESS.—JZdid. Bur I have said that cleanliness is a word which bears a moral, as well as a physical signification ; and it 4s its moral signification chiefly that brings cleanliness up to its honorable proximity to godliness. One can scarcely walk far in the streets withont perceiving that there are not only many dirty faces, but also many dirty tongues; how many there are whose “ mouths are full of cursing and bit- terness, and under whose lips is the poison of asps.” Dirt ‘meets the eye, dirt meets the nose, and the very foulest dirt meets the ear.. It is bad enough when a violent proy- ocation calls forth a burst of angry profanity, but infi- nitely worse when blasphemy and filth are uttered in cold blood, and constitute the ordinary forms of speech. Te other sins 42 man®may be incited by temptation, but I do not see what can tempt a man to garnish his speech with the offal and filth of language; yet it is very common, and common among men, young men, who pride themselveson being neat, on being well dressed, who would be ashamed of a dirty face, who brush their hats and their coats, and are particular even about the cleanliness of their boots ; they take a pride in being nice in their personal appear- ance—an equal pride in being as nasty as possible in their speech; thus illustrating Swift's rather severe remark— “A nice man is a man of nasty ideas.” My friends, will you set yourselves resolutely against this abomination? You know better than I how prevalent it is, and what a dirty tone conversation often assumes when young men get together, in their workshops and in their social gather ings. When Sir Christopher Wron was building St.-Paul’s, 62 TNE DIME SPEAKER. he made ita rule that every man guilty of profane language should be instantly dismissed by the clerk of the works. I do not appeal to employers in this matter, but to the men themselves; you know that such language is utterly de- testable, and I do not speak merely of profane expressions, but of dirty expressions, which are still more common. Do you wish to be regarded, not as fools, but as men of common-sense ?—then give them up. Do you wish to be considered, not blackguards, but gentlemen ?—then give them up. Do you wish to have credit, not for a vicious, but for a highly moral tone of feeling?—then give them up and discourage such language in every possible way. Don’t on any occasion allow it to be addressed to you; consider yourself insulted when any foul-mouthed fool speaks to you in this the devil’s language. If you have ~ any right moral sense, to say nothing of religious principle, such language will be offensive and disgusting; set a good example yourselves; let the words of your lips be pure words, and advocate among your companions the total abolition of all nasty speech; try to purify the circles in which you move. ‘The faculty of speech is one of the noblest you possess ; consider who gave it to you, and for what purpose it was given, and neyer prostitute it by” making it the channel of filthy communication. For this, as for all other gifts, we shall be held, and most righteous- ly shall we be held, responsible. Se SATURDAY NIGHT'S ENJOYMENTS.—ZJdid. My dear young friends, there is something for us to do In our leisure, wiser, manlier, nobler, in all respects better, than to amuse ourselves, and engage in the preposterous and dreadful work of killing time. There is something weak, something effeminate, something contemptible, in this excessive love of pleasure, though the pleasure loved de neither expensive nor immoral. If, evening after even- ing, you crave after the excitements of public amusements, ' itis very evident that your intellectual and moral nature is in a deplorable state of weakness and disease. How are you to. become intelligent as men of business, how-are you to become wise as citizens of a great and free nation, how ig your religious life to be developed, if those golden hours Attn ncn. SATURDAY NIGHT’S ENJOYNENTS. 63 of leisure are to be frittered away in amusemenw? It is not a sufficient apology to say that your recreations are harmless, that there is nothing in them that can shock the most, fastidious virtue or offend the most earnest piety. These amusements do not fulfill the purpose of your life. When we become men, we should put away childish things, and bend our energies to earnest pursuits. Let Saturday evening, therefore, be sometimes spent in harm- less pleasure, but not always. Set before yourselves some higher object than this, and let Saturday evening be ottener devoted to the acquisition of subgtantial and prof- itable knowledge, and the exercise of your mental powers. Read, but do not read solely for amusement, as so many do; read that you may become wiser, abler, better men. - And there is another‘reason why the Saturday night should not be given solely to pleasure, however innocent, #nd it is this, that the Saturday night precedes that day which ought to be especially consecrated to the service of the Supreme Being. In some reflection upon this, and prep- aration for this, the Saturday evening will be most ration- ally and profitably spent. The skeptic may sneer at that exquisite poem, one of the best that Burns ever wrote— *The Cotter’s Saturday Night,” in which the father of a family is represented as turning over ‘the big ha’ Bible,” and reading to his assembled family “ How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed, How he who bore in heaven the Second name. Had not on earth whereon to lay his head. * * # * Then kneeling down, to Heaven’s Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing, That thus they all shall meet in future days ; There ever bask in uncreated rays, ! No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear; Together singing their Creator’s praise, Jn such society, but still more dear, While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.” THE DIME SPEAKER. “IN A JUST CAUSE.”—-Lowis Kossuth. To prove that Washington never attached to his doctrine of neutrality more than the sense of temporary policy, I refer to one of his letters, written to Lafayette, wherein he says: —‘‘Let us only have twenty years of peace, and our country will come to such a degree of power and wealth that we will be able, ina just cause, to defy whatever power on earth.” “Tn a just cause!” Now in the name of eternal truth, and by all that is sacred and dear to man, since the history of mankind is recorded, there has been no cause more just than the cause of Hungary! Never was there a people, without the slightest reason, more. sacrilegiously, more treadigerously, and by fouler means, attacked than Hun- gary! / Never have crime, cursed ambition, despotism, and violence, in a more wicked manner, united to crush down freedom, and the very life, than against Hungary! Never was a country more mortally outraged than Hungary. All your sufferings, all your complaints, which, with so much right, drove your forefathers to take up arms, are but slight grievances, compared with those immense, deep wounds, out of which the heart of Hungary bleeds! If the cause of my people is not sufficiently just to insure the protection of God, and the support of good-willing men, then there is no just cause, and no justice on earth; then the blood of no new Abel will move towards Heaven ; the genius of charity, Christian love and justice, will mourn- ingly fly the earth; a heavy curse will upon mortality fall, oppressed men despair, and only the Cains of humanity walk proudly, with impious brow, above the ruins of Lib. erty on Earth! You have attained that degree of strength and consist- ency, when your less fortunate brethren of mankind may well claim your brotherly, protecting hand. And here I stand before you, to plead the cause of these, your less fortunate brethren—the cause of humanity. I may suc- ceed, or I may fail. But I will go on, pleading with that faith of martyrs by which mountains were moved; and I may displease you, perhaps; still I will say, with Luther, “May God help me—Ican dono otherwise!” Woe, a thous- andfold woe, to humanity, should there be nobody on earth to maintain the Jaws of humanity! Woe to humanity, i” sip oan Si Sea . faaitals 1 a NO PEACE WITH OPPRESSION, 65 should even those who are as mighty as they are free not feel interested in the maintenance of the laws of mankind, because they are laws, but only in so far as some scanty money interests would desire it! Woe to humanity, if every despot of the world may dare trample down the laws of humanity, and no free Nation arise to make respected these laws! People of the United States, humanity ex- pects that your glorious Republic will prove to the world that Republics are formed on virtue. It expects. to see you the guardians of the law of humanity! NO PEACE WITH OPPRESSION.—By Louis Kossuh. Is the present condition of Europe peace? Is the seaf. fold peace ?—the scaffold, on which, in Lombardy, the blood.of three thousand seven hundred and forty-two pa. triots was spilled during three short years! Is that peace? Are the prisons of Austria, filled with patriots, peace? Or is the murmur of discontent from all the Nations peace? I believe the Lord has not created the world to be in such a peaceful condition. I believe He has not created it to be the prison of humanity, or the dominion of the Austrian jailer.. No! The present condition of the world is not peace! It is a condition of oppression on the European Continent,—and because there is this condition of oppres- sion there can not be peace; for so long as men and Na- tions are oppressed, and so long as men and Nations are discontented, there can not be peace—there can not be tranquillity. War, like a volcano, boiling everlastingly, will, at the slightest opportunity, break ont again, and sweep away all the artificial props of peace, and of those interests which 6n peace depend. Europe is continually a great battle-field,—a great barrack. Such isits condition; and, therefore, let not those who call themselves men of peace say they will not help Europe because they love peace! Let them confess truly that they are not men of peace, but only the upholders of the oppression of Nations. ‘With me and with my principles is peace, because I will always faithfully adhere to the principles of liberty ; and only on the principles of liberty can Nations be contented, and only with the contentment of Nations can ‘there be peace on the earth. With me and with my principles there is peace,——lasting peace, —consistent peace! With the tyrants of the world there is oppression, struggles, and war. _ 66 THE DIME SPEAKER. A TALE OF A MOUSE.—A rhymed story for children. Lasy night as I tumbled and toss’d in my bed, Half roasted, half toasted, and nearly quite dead, I heard aslight wriggle, and then a loud rap, And I said to myself, ‘‘ There’s a mouse in the trap! So I jump’d up and lighted my small chamber lamp, And quickly discover’d the precious young scamp._ Theld up the box, and a pair of bright eyes Look’d hard in my face with a midnight surprise, And a brief little tail was coil’d up there so snug, I thought that the mouse was a common-sized bug. There sat the young sinner, exceedingly slim, He wondering at me, and I wondering at him! ‘“* And don’t you consider yourself a great rogue ?” I said, imitating the mouse-people’s brogue. “ And very great villain, not honest at all?” Said the mouse with a whine, ‘‘I’m exceedingly smail! Just look at my figure, examine my face, Tam young, my dear sir, to be caught in this case, And if you'll but let me-get out of this ‘ fix,’ With the best of good mice, sir, in future I'll mix.” “Not so,” I replied, ‘‘ you have troubled me sore In short, Mister Mouse, you're a terrible bore ; You've nibbled my closet, you’ve nibbled my nose You’ve eaten away all the ends of my toes, And if on my cheese, sir, unharm’d you should sup, You'd grow to a giant, and then eat me up. The mouse gave a sigh, as I took up the box, But he felt like a culprit just put in the stocks: Then I went to the window and look’d on the night,-+ The heat was terrific, the stars were all bright ; I look’d down the court and espied a tall cat, Who was fanning her whiskers while cooking a rat, So said I “‘ Mistress Pussy, allow me to add A bit to your meal in shape of a sad, But I hope very tender and delicate mouse, The last of his tribe, so I trust in the house.” The cat mew’d he¥ thanks, and uplifted her paws, 80 I shook out’the plagwésjust over her claws— = x 4s A THANKSGIVING SERMON. 67 Then rose a faint struggle, and then a short scream— No harm to the mouse though,—’twas all like a dream, For I saw him run off as the cat raised her wail, And the moon dropped a beam on the tip of his tail. A THANKSGIVING SERMON.—By Dr. Le Grand, My Frienps: Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man it comes as frequently as the heart of gratitude will allow, which may mean every day, or once in seven days, at least. The preachers say we are a poor set of sinners at best; but who believes that? I know that occasionally, in meeting perhaps, a layman confesses that he is a poor mis- erable sinner, but you tell that same person the same fact, out of doors, and he will get mad and tear round dread- fully; which proves that after all he is not a sinner, We are all honest, good, conscientious people, my friends, no matter what the preachers say. Now, I propose, my friends, to state a few of the things for us to be thankful for—when we are in the mood, of course; for when we are not inclined, who can make us give thanks for any thing ? We should be thankful that we knew more than any- body else, for, are we not capable of talking and giving lectures upon every subject ever talked of? I should like to see the male or female in this audience who didn’t know a great deal more than any body has any idea of! We should be thankful that we are all good looking. Ain’t we? Just look around this audience, and see if you ean “spot” the person who is, in their own estimation, not good looking? It would be a curious study, to be sure, to find in what particular some PEOPLE are good looking; but its none of our personal business if a man has earroty hair, eyes like a new moon, nose like a split pear, mouth like a pair of waffle irons, chin Jike a Dutch churn, neck like a gander’s, anda body like a erow-bar: —comparatively, he is good-looking; that is, "there are homelier men and animals than he; so everybody is good looking, and has a right: to pnt on airs. Let.us be very thankful, my friends, that this is so; fors@therwise some of us would be shut up a homes for ’ scare: crows,” which goverament: would ave to p ide. ; SM aon « 68 THE DIME SPEAKER. We should be thankful that we are more pious than anybody else. That we are pious is evident from the man ner in which we treat poor creatures who have most un- fortunately been driven to sin; from the fact that we pay our preachers occasionally, and always require them to be unexceptionable, in all respects; that we don’t read papers any worse than the ‘‘New York Ledger,” that never pub- lishes any thing which can outrage our least moral senti- ments; from the fact that we don’t work on Sunday, and eat the big dinners which it has made the women-folks almost tired to death to prepare. Who is the person in this room that is not pious? I do not care to kiow him for the presen* We should give thanks that our house is, in many res- pects, superior to our neighbors’. True, it may not be as big, nor as fine-looking, nor, indeed, as attractive gen- erally ; but it is superior, nevertheless, as we always in- form any maa who wants to purchase:—we should be very thankful that we can wjnd things so favorably for our own interests. We should be thankful that our teachers and our edi- tors, and doctors, and lawyers are such superior men, as we learn they are, when they come to die and have their epitaphs written. We should be thankful, in fact, that this world was es- pecially created for our own comfort, convenience, and use ; that we have a perfect right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,—no matter if these do conflict with some other persons’ wishes, and happiness, and rights. ~ Lhope you will thank me for this recognition of your good qualities, your rights, your glory; and trust I shall be permitted to say of myself, when I retire, “Here lies an honest young man.” THE COST OF RICHES.—By William Howitt. Tere was a little village boy— Oh! but his heart was full of joy, Had he a stick to whistle on; A bag of marbles and a.kite, Surely there never was delight Like that of Johnny Littleton. munibs t THE COST OF RICHES. But time flew on—a boy no longer, Up he grew, taller, stouter, stronger, And then you would admire ; For he had made a splendid marriage, ~ “And he rode in a shining carriage— John Littleton, Esquire! No doubt you think this very grand But I must make you understand— A very different case ; : Though shrewdest heads might not have found, Had they survey’d this great man round, Misfortune in his face. And yet he was most sad—for riches Have something in them that bewitches, And fills with large pretenses; While, like a terrible disease, They rob us of our mirth and ease, Our faculties and senses. And this was not his case: for he Had lost his sight; he could not see Some things, however nigh : The friends and playmates of his youth— He could not see them, though, in truth, Some stood full six feet high. And then his hearing went—Oh! none Hadears as quick as little John. For neighbors in their need ; But now, if sorrow cries and roars, What hope to pierce a dozen doors, And ears most deaf indeed ? And soon he lost his common-sense, Puff’d up with most absurd pretense, He hoped abroad to find Each better man, in poorer case, Bow down unto the dust his face— He was so out of mind, His peace of mind expired in glooms, He built a house of many rooms—_ THE DIME SPEAKER, Of many,.and most grand: But through them all he sought in vain; He could not find his peace again, In all his house and land. Next memory waver’d and withdrew, The more estate and body grew, ae A Still grew his memory thinner ; Until he even could not tell: x 1 ; Without a good resounding bell, | His common hour of dinner. E | : | So, on his house-top it was hung, ‘And loudly, duly was it rung, To summon him to dine; As well as that the poor might be Assured, as they were drinking tea, That he was drinking wine. | * Alas! what matter’d wine, or food? Oh! but he was in different mood ds. By his own mother’s door, With porringer of milk and bread ;— But now, his appetite had fled ; et) And it return’d no more. ! . No! not though dishes did abound; . Though powder’d lackeys stood around, In jackets quaintly dress’d; | With scarlet collar, scarlet vest, And buttons stamp’d with a great beast— . John’s true armorial crest. This beast he on his trinkets wore ; On harness; on his carriage-door ; And on his sealed letters: ys Upon his bead, upon his chair, : This beast was figured everywhere— I A beast in golden fetters. Lost eye and ear; lost heart and health ; Good name; good conscience ;—save his wealth, | What loss could still befall ? Alas! to crown the dismal whole, He died!—’tis fear’d he lost his soul— The heaviest loss of all! THE PROPHECY FOR THE YEAR. 1 GREAT LIVES IMPERISHABLE.—Zdward Hverett. To be cold and breathless,—to feel not and speak not,— this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits intd the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts’ blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of hi8 ghastly wound, but moving re- splendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington, indeed, shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these can not die. The hand that traced the charter of Independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, “make it life to live,” these can not expire: ; “These shall resist the empire of decay, When time is.o’er, and worlds have pass’d away ; Cold in the dust the perish’d heart may lie, But that which warm’d it once can never die.” THE PROPHECY FOR THE YEAR.—Anon. My hearers, your ears, if you please, if you please While I tell what my eye of prophecy sees— -What there is in the future for each and for all, The plenty in store for the greatest and small: Plenty of changes, and all for the worse, Plenty of blessings exchanged for one curse; Plenty of nostrums that never were tried, Plenty of liberty, all on one side. Plenty to overturn, few to uphold, Plenty of poverty, great lack of gold; Plenty of promise and nothing to hand, Plenty of paupers all gaping for land; : ; i TAK DIME SPEAKER, Plenty of dupes to a handful of knaves, Plenty of freemen fast verging to slaves, Plenty of atheists scofling at God, Plenty of faction at home and abroad; Plenty of colonies cutting adrift, Plenty of demagogues lending a lift; Plenty of newspapers springing the mine, Plenty of readers to think it all fine. Plenty of projects with misery fraught, Plenty of fools by no precedents taught ; Plenty of Quixotry—still in the wrong, Plenty of humming, that can not last long; Plenty of lawgivers, “ tatter’d and torn,” Plenty of delegates fetter’d and sworn; Plenty of gentlemen cutting their throats, Plenty of waverers turning their coats; Plenty of rogues with it all their own way, Plenty of honest men skulking away ; Plenty of Whigs to send England to ruin, Plenty of Tories to let them he doing. Plenty of meddling without a pretense, Plenty of war that is all for ‘ offense ;” Plenty of miters that tottering sit, Plenty of churches with notice to quit. Plenty of ancestry, just to disown, Plenty of rats undermining the throne ; Plenty to-day to work mischief and sorrow, Plenty to vote a Republic to-morrow. THE UNFINISHED PROBLEMS OF THE UNIVERSE. —By Prof. Mitchell. 1859. . 1 Ir we take the telescope and look out upon the universe by which we are surrounded, we find them diversified in every possible way. Our own mighty Stellar System takes upon itself the form of a flat disk, which may be compared to a mighty ring breaking out into two branches, severed from each other, the interior with stars less densely popu- lous than upon the exterior. But take the telescope and go beyond this; and here you find, coming out frum the * 7 a s UNFINISHED PROBLEMS OF THE UNIVERSE. 73 depths of space, universes of every possible shape and fashion, some of them assuming a globular form—and when we apply the highest possible penetrating power of the telescope—breaking into ten thousand brilliant stars, all érushed and condensed into one luminous, bright, and magnificent center. But look yet further. Away yonder, in the distance, you behold a faint, hazy, nebulous ring of light, the interior almost entirely dark, but the exterior ring shaped -and exhibiting to the eye, under the mosts powerful telescope, the fact that it may be resolved en- tirely into stars, producing a universe somewhat analogous to the one we inhabit. Go yet deeper into space, and there you will behold another universe—voluminous scrolls of light, glittering with beauty, flashing with splendor, and sweeping a curve of most extraordinary form and of most tremendous outlines. What is the meaning of all this? Nothing but the diversity with which the Almighty Arch- itect has chosen to mark the superstructure by which we are surrounded. So that we may anticipate all the diver- sity that exists here on the earth and in the heavens be- yond us in the system with which we are allied. ’ THE SAME. I do not pretend to indorse the theory of Maedler with reference to his central sun._ If I did indorse it, it would amount simply to nothing at all, for he needs no indorse- ment of mine. But it is one of the great, unfinished oe of the universe which remains yet to be solved. uture generations are to take it up. Materials for its so: lution are to accumulate from generation to generation, and possibly from century to century. Nay, I know not but thousands of years will roll away before the slow movements of these far-distant orbs shall so accumulate as to give us the data whereby the resolution may be ab- solutely accomplished. But shall we fail to work because the end ig far off? Had the old astronomer that once stood upon the watch-tower in Babylon, and there marked the coming of the dreaded eclipse, said: “I care not for this - this is the business of posterity; let posterity take eare of itself; I will make no record ;” and had, in suc- ceeding ages, the sentinel in the watch-tower of the skiew - . 74, THE PIME SPEAKER. said, ‘I will retire from my post; I have no concern with these matters, which can do me no good; it is nothing that I can do for the age in which I live’—where would we have been to-night! Shall we not do for those who are to follow us what has been done for us by our prede- cessors? Let us not shrink from the responsibility which comes down upon the age in which we live. The great and mighty problem of the universe has been given to the whole human family for its solution. Not by any clime, not by any age, not by any nation, not by any individual man or mind, however great or grand, has this wondrous solution been accomplished, but it is the problem of humanity ; and it will last as long as humanity shall in- habit the globe on which we live and move. THE SAME. We have passed from planet to planet, frgm sun to sun, from system to system. We have reached beyond the limits of this mighty stellar cluster with which we are allied. We have found other island universes sweeping through space. The great unfinished problem still re- mains—Whence came this universe? Have all these stars which glitter in the heavens been shining from all eternity ? Has our globe been rolling around the sun for ceaseless ages? Whence, whence this magnificent architecture, whose architraves rise in splendor before us in every direc- tion? Is it all the work of chance! -I answer, No. It is not the work of chance, Who shall reveal to us the true cosmogony of the universe by which we are surrounded! Is it the work of an Omnipotent Architect? Ifso, who is this August Being? Go with me to-night, in imagination, and stand with old Paul, the great Apostle, upon Mars’ Hill, and there look around you as he did. Here rises that magnificent building, the Parthenon, sacred to Minerva, the Goddess of Wisdom. There towers her colossal statue, rising in its majesty above the city of which she was the guardian—the first object to catch the rays of the rising, and the last to be kissed by the rays of the setting, sun. There are the temples of all the gods; and there are the shrines of every divinity. And yetI tell you these gods and these divinities, though created oe c HONOR TO THE DEAD, % under the inspiring fire of poetic fancy and Greek imagina- tion, never reared this stupendous Structure by which we are surrounded. The Olympic Jove never built these heavens. The wisdom of Minerva never organized these magnificent systems. I say with St. Paul: “Oh, Athe nians, in all things I find you too superstitious; for, in passing along your streets, I find an altar inscribed To the Unknown God—Him whom ye ignorantly worship; and this is the God I declare unto you—the God that made heaven and earth, who dwells not in temples made with hands.” No, here is the temple of our Divinity.. Around us and above us rise Sun.and System, Cluster and Universe. And Idoubt not that in every region of this vast Empire of God, hymns of praise and anthems of glory are rising and reverberating from sun to sun, and System to System— heard by Omnipotence alone across immensity and through eternity. HONOR TO THE DEAD.—By Edward Everett. 1859. Tr has been the custom, from the remotest antiquity, to preserve and to hand down to posterity, in bronze and in ~ marble, the counterfeit presentment of illustrious men, Within the last few years modern research has brought to light, on the banks of the Tigris, huge slabs of alabaster, buried for ages, which exhibit in relief the faces and the persons of men who governed the primeval East in the gray dawn of History. Three thousand years have elapsed since they lived and reigned, and built palaces, and forti- fied cities, and waged war, and gained victories, of which the trophies are carved upon these monumental tablets— the triumphal procession, the chariots laden with spoil, the drooping captive, the conquered monarch in chains,—but the Jegends inscribed upon the stone are imperfectly de- ciphered, and little beyond the names of the personages, and the most general tradition of their exploits is pre- served. In like manner the obelisks and the temples of ancient Egypt are covered with the sculptured images of whole dynasties of Pharaohs—older than Moses, older than Joseph—whose titles are recorded in the hiero- glyphics with which the granite is charged, and which are %6 THE DIME SPEAKER. ) gradually yielding up their long-concealed mysteries to the sagacity of modern criticism. The plastic arts, as they passed into Hellas, with all the other arts which give grace and dignity to our nature, reached a perfection unknown to Egypt or Assyria; and the heroes and sages of Greece and Rome, immortalized by the sculptor, still people the galleries and museums of the modern world. In every succeeding age and in every country, in which the fine arts have been cultivated, the respect and affection of sur- vivors have found a pure and rational gratification in the historical portrait and the monumental statue of the hon- ored and loved in private life, and especially of the great and good who have deserved well of their country. Public esteem and confidence and private affection, the gratitude of the community and the fond memories of the fireside, have ever sought, in this way, to prolong the sensible ex- istence of their beloved and respected objects. What though the dear and honored features and person, on which while living we never gazed without tenderness or veneration, have been taken from us—something of the loveliness, something of the majesty abidesin the portrait, the bust, and the statue. The heart bereft of the living originals turn to them, and cold and silent as they are, they strengthen and animate the cherished -recollections of the loved, the honored, and the lost. The skill of the painter and sculptor, which thus comes in aid of the memory and imagination, is, in its highest degree, one of the rarest, as it is one of the most exquisite accomplishments within our attainment, and in its perfec- tion as seldom witnessed as the perfection of speech or of music. The plastic hand must be moved by the same ethereal instinct as the eloquent lips or the recording pen. The number of those who, in the language of Michael Angelo, can discern the finished statue in the heart of the shapeless block, and bid it start into artistic life—who are endowed with the exquisite gift of molding the rigid bronze or the lifeless marble into graceful, majestic, and expressive forms—is not greater than the number of those who are able, with equal majesty, grace, and expressive- ness, to make the spiritual essence—the finest shades of thought and feeling—sensible to the mind, through the eye and the ear, in the mysterious embodiment of the written and the spoken word. If Athens in her palmiest days had but one Pericles, she had also but one Phidias. Niels Oe ye ___ HONOR TO TIE DEAD. 77 Nor are these beautiful and noble arts, by which the face and the form of the departed are preserved to us— calling into the highest exercise as they do all the imita- tive and, idealizing powers of the painter and the seulptor —the least instructive of our teachers. The portraits and the statues of the honored dead kindle the generous am- bition of the youthful aspirant to fame. Themistocles could not sleep for the trophies in the Ceramicus; and when the living Demosthenes had ceased to speak, the stony lips remained to rebuke and exhort his degenerate countrymen, More than a hundred years have elapsed since the great Newton passed away ; but from age to age his statue by Roubillac, in the ante-chapel of Trinity Col- lege, will give distinctness to the conceptions formed of him by hundreds and thousands of ardent youthful spirits, filled with reverence for that transcendent intellect, which, from the phenomena that fall within our limited vision, deduced the imperial law by which the Sovereign Mind rules the entire universe. We can never look on the per- son of Washington, but his serene and noble countenance perpetuated by the pencil and the chisel, is familiar to far greater multitudes than ever stood in his living presence, and will be thus familiar to the latest generation. THE IMMORTALITY OF PATRIOTS.—The same. What parent, as he conducts his son to Mount Auburn or to Bunker Hill, will not, as he pauses before their mon- umental statues, seek to heighten his reverence tor virtue, for patriotism, for science, for learning, for devotion to the public good, as he bids him contemplate the form of of that grave and venerable Winthrop, who left his pleas- ant home in England to come and found a new rej.\lic in this untrodden wilderness; of that ardent and intrepid Otis, who first struck out the spark of American Indepen- dence; of that noble Adams, its most eloquent champion on the floor of Congress; of that martyr Warren, who laid down his life in its defense ; of that self-taaght Bowditch, who, without a guide, threaded the starry mazes of the heavens ; of that Story, honored at home and abroad as one of the brightest luminaries of the law, and by a felicity, of which I believe there is no other example, admirably %8 THE DIME SPEAKER. portrayed in marble by his son? What citizen of Boston, as he accompanies the stranger around its streets, guiding him through its busy ‘thoroughfares, to its wharves crowded with vessels which range every sea and gather the produce of every climate—up to the dome of the Capitol, which commands as lovely a landscape as can de- light the eye or gladden the heart, will not, as he calls his attention at last to the statues of Franklin and Webster, exclaim—* Boston takes pride in her natural position, she rejoices in her beautiful environs, she is grateful for her material prosperity; but richer than the merchandise stored in palatial warehouses, greener than the slopes of sea-girt islets, lovelier than this encircling panorama of land and sea, of field and hamlet, of lake and stream, of garden and grove, is the memory of her sons, native and adopted; the character, services, and fame of those who have benefited and adorned their day and generation. Our children, and the schools at which they are trained ; our citizens, and the services they have rendered ;—these are our jewels,—these our ubiding treasures.” Yes, your long rows of quarried granite may crumble to the dust; the cornfields in yonder villages, ripening to the sickle, may, like the plains of stricken Lombardy, be kneaded into bloody clods by the madding wheels of artillery; this populous city, like the old cities of Etruria and the Campagna Romana, may be desolated by the pestilence which walketh in darkness, may decay with the lapse of time, and the busy mart, which now rings with the joyous din of trade, become as lonely and still as Carthage or Tyre, as Babylon and Nineveh; but the names of the great and good shall suryive the desolation and the ruin; the memory of the wise, the brave, the patriotic, shall never perish. Yes, Sparta is a wheat-field; a Bavarian prince holds court at the foot of the Acropolis ; the traveling virtuoso digs for marbles in the Roman Forum, and beneath the ruins of the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus ; but Lycurgus and Leonidas, and Miltiades and Demos- thenes, and Cato and Tully “still live ;” and ux still lives, and all the great and good shall live in the heart of ages, while marble and bronze shall endure; and when marble and bronze have perished, they shall ‘‘still live” in mem- ory, so long as men shall reverence Law, and honor Patriotism, and love Liberty ! WEBSTER’S POLITICAL SYSTEM. %9 WEBSTER’S POLITICAL SYSTEM.—By the same. Led equally by his professional occupations and his po- litical duties to make the Constitution the object of his profoundest study and meditation, he regarded it with pe- culiar reverence, as a Covenant of- Union between the members of this great and increasing family of States ; and in that respect he considered it as the most important document ever penned by the hand of uninspired man. I need not tell you that this reverence for the Constitution as the covenant of union between the States was the cen- tral idea of his political system, which, however, in this as in all other respects, aimed at a wise and safe balance of extreme opinions. He valued, as much as any man can possibly value it, the principle of State sovereignty. He looked upon the organization of these separate indepen- dent republics—of different sizes, different ages and histories, different geographical positions and local inter- ests—as furnishing a security of inappreciable value for a wise and beneficent administration of local affairs, and the protection of individual and local rights. But he regarded as an approach to the perfection of political wisdom, the molding of these separate and independent sovereignties, with all their pride of individual right, and all their jeal- ousy of individual consequence, into an harmonious whole. He never weighed the two principles against each other ; he held them complemental to each other, equally and supremely vital and essential. LT happened, one bright starry night, to be walking home with him, at a late hour, from the Capitol at Washington, after a skirmishing debate, in which he had been speaking, at no great length, but with much earnestness and warmth, on the subject of the Constitution as forming a united gov- ernment. The planet Jupiter, shining with unusual bril- liancy, was in full view. He paused as we descended Capitol Hill, and unconsciously pursuing the train of thought which he had been enforcing in the Senate, point- | ed to the planet and said—“ ‘Night unto night showeth knowledge ;’ take away the independent force, emanating from the hand of the Supreme, which impels that planet onward, and it would plunge in’ hideous ruin from those beautiful skies unto the sun; take away the central attrac- tion of the sun, and the attendant planet would shoot madly from its sphere ; urged and restrained by the bal- anced forces, it wheels its eternal circles through the sovens” LDLE’S DIME NOVELS--Continued. N PRINCE; or, | 40—UNIONIST’S DAUGHT’R a tale of Hastern ‘lennesseec. By Mrs. Victor. | Knight -Errant. | | . 224pp., 20c. duganne. DE CORDOVA; | 41—THE 16 pice of the Coast. ET hea ae 8 CABIN arner, —THE KING'S 7 |, THE DAUGH- | “ae os. cin Kevenitionary Times. By A. J. H. Duganne. ty. By N.C. fron. | /ARNABY; or, the | 43— : f [the Forest) By N-| Spc tia Kawehe Valley eed. By Henry J. Thomas. 44—AGNES FALKLAND: a fOREST SPY. By f- story of Continental Times. a POMFRET'S By N. C, Iron. ¢ r, a Vermonier’s Ad-| ap Wg : of th in Mexico. By J. gS at ae Ann DOviEE S. Stephens. i HERO. A a he ALBION, Sea and Land. By N. bg Skier. MBUMBLE’SCHARGE omy ) iy iy & BE a DL we rb FO) (Bie) BU OKS. ‘School Mel« ‘ So Books—1 to 10. Letts r-W 3 iwriotic Sp , 90N gs of Olden Time Caok -Book, . | r Recipe Dress-Mal Family Phy ( | : Book of Rtiquett« bi B; iver, Bs ook of Dre Book of Verses Guide to Swim’ing okof Fu BEADLE’S Smee ery 300k, E - S WAI RD, DOT BLI EK HERO BACKW OOD MIDE. PI *RISON HR of La Vintresse 1 BIDDON TRAPPE! > \\P —AGNE ESTHE! 46--W RECK I rER 47—TIM Bt MBLE S| d Ca ea TY BE FADL E'S. j IME Bidge GRAPE ua] CGAL SERIES. 1—@: rine 8—J. C, I penal: MEN OF THE TIME Tohn P. Jones. | 1—Hall’ck, Pope,Sie- ifayette. j gel, fe ae ae Un, ete. umseh, | 2—Banks. 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