4. M. J. VERS & ©0., Publishers, “tee eet (James SULLIVAN, Proprixtror), " * 879 PEARL STREET, NEW YORK. STANDARD RECITATIONS. CONTENTS OF No. 28, Price, 12 cents by man}; 1 and 2 cent stamps taken, The Ballad of the Colors, Thomas Dunne English.. The Dying Umpire. Goliath and David...... Mr Schmidt's Mistake. Chas. F. Adaums.... Sned Skinflint’s ‘Scheme. K. M... Diamond cut Diamond. Johu BE. M’Cann..... Rory’s Kissing School. Reading a Dime Novel.. Paddy ye Rascal.... Uncle Peter's Counsel to the Newly Married. Edmund Kirke...... shia DP Bravest of the Brave. B. ce Burdette. ‘ A Wail of Toe...... | Mine Shiidren, Charles Follen Adsms. 1 The Cultured ‘Danghter of a Plain Grocer. .... veld Kelly at the Bat..... ....... 12 “De ’Lection fer Jedge.” Unk'l Isam .... What is Done at ‘Saratoga. By John Q@, Saxe . 14 When Greek meets ta Greek 8 4 Rules for Wives.... Hustler Joe....... Ve Veer SO: Coming Home. Hugh a nghby Sweeney 17 instrels of the Night...18 Baggage- Master Brick’s anch Can .. 18 Short Summer Sermons. Bro. Gardner. .. In Holland. es Field. .19 The Soft Guitar. P. F. Bowne 20 He Led his Class ....... 20 “Human Natur’.’’ er Bro. Gardner, (2.6665. ..21 Shoo_ A The New Lochinvar. The Banana Peel.... 38 ® Der Kicker und der Krank.” Emile Pickhardt. . 38 wade. Pete and Marse George. Anon .. ) Tim Murpby’s Stew,........ | De Yaller Chinee............ Exclamatory . ketone Getting Right Up_ . He Guessed he’d Fight. ; Address of the President of the Lazy Club. Anony- mous... . 28 Paddy’s ‘Reflections on Cleo- pathera’s Needle. Cormac O'Leary .... Beebe Why she was Salted. More Coyness....... A Costly Beverage ....... Smoking his First Cigar... The Mosquito Adjured .. She wasa Shaker .. The Bicycle and the Pup . ; The Matilated Curretcy Ques- tion Carl Dunder Talks to OnGren 65 ose Business and Gambling . Fate.... . 3 30: the Bweet Hamiet to his Mother... Quit your ee The Neckiie. How thee ‘Said’ Good-Night. 38 Uncle Moses and the Comet. Ruth Argyle. . rec 89 His Heart was True to Poll...40 Pat’s Love By Joe Jot, Jr. .41 The Montgomery Guard......42 Too Many for Him........ .. 42 Method Mn lt stw ec eces sey ve 43 His Guileless Look. oe Holmesicte pestis csex 44 Oar Minister’s Sermon....... 44 Aunt Sophronia Tabor at the Opera A Street Gamin’s Story of the Play. Anonymous........ 4 The Country Store. Nathan DU in Ob a8 higisasie ies ons 47 The Printer’s Revenge ......48 The Father to his Boy........48 BEADLE'S DIME Ht STANDARD SPEAKER: x CHOICE EXTRACTS AND PASSAGES _ ay = sab it Sab CONTENTS. fhe Worle we Live in, - Woman’s Ulaims, pap int The Authors of Our Liberty, The Real Conqueror, - - The Citizen’s Heritage, - Mash et atu The Mechaxic, i ie Nature aud Nature’s God, - The Modern Good,- - - Ossian’s Address to the Sun, - independence Bell—July 4, 1777, Joh» Burns of Gettysburg, = - No Sect in Heaven, - = - Miss Prude’s Tea Party, - The Power of anIdea,- = - The Beneficence of the Sea, Suffrage, : - - The Dream of the Revelers, How Cyrus Laid the Cable, The Prettiest Hand, - - Paradoxical, - - - Little Jerry, the Miller, mhe Necks!) =: 4) oat: ie Foggy Thoughts, § - The Ladies’ Man, - BG ree me [beldler, - The Unbeliever, The Two Lives, - The True Scholar, - Judges not apace Fanaticism, - The Instability of Siecoedal Crime, - Agriculture, - - . . Ireland, - - - The People Always vicamtiiee Ta*S. - TT. De Witt Talmage, Miss Anna £. Dickinson, Geo. H. Curtis, - Bishop Simpson, Jas. M. Scovil, - The Same, J. A. Overdeer, Anonymous, - Horace Mann, -¥ BR Harte - Aaron Amith, Mrs. F. 8S. W. Aurper, - Key. Dr. Witte. zienry Ward Beecher, - Henry Russell, J, G. Saxe, - Anon., Ancn., J. G. Saxe, Cincinnati Times, aio Nd Foggy, -- Anon, Rew. H. HE. Adams, Sarit Witham ‘Owrtia, . Charles Giemisex, - The Same, Kossuth, Hdward Boerett. Thomas Francis Meagher Hdwani Sverern, ies saasde eee Music of Labor, - Prussia and ae Wishing, -— _ The Blarney Stone, - - The Student of Born, A Broken Househo:d, - ¢The Bible; >. 2. - The Purse and the Sword, My Country, see lrue Moral Courage, - Whatis War? - - ~Butterjs "<4 ees My Deborah Lee, The Race, yar The Pin and Needle, - ‘The Modern Puritan, — - {mmortality of the Soul, Decupation, - - - Heroism and Daring, - & Shot at the Decanter, - - Anon., : Harper's Weekly, John G. Saxe, soe e “Anon., ee Anon, - - Anoit., 1 ea Robert Collyer, - Jthn U. Calhoun, Hugh 8. Legare, =) Henry Clay, Soi engee Fierce, - Anon., Soe Anon., = oe ae Anon., - John G. Saxe, Fudge R. J. Pitkin, - Anon., - + Anon., - "William Wirt Bikes, tae a Bt i. Rw. Theodore L. .nwier, 0 | STANDARD —_— - THE WORLD WE LIVE IN T. De Witt Paice _ _Lapres anv GenriemEn :—This is a right pieaeant world j to live in. If you or Thad been consulted as to which of © _{ all the stars we would choose to walk upon, we rould not have done a wiser thing than to select this. I have always _been glad that I got aboard this planet. The best color that I can think of for the sky is blue, for the foliage is green, for | ube water is crystalline flash. The mountaing are just high ~~ enough, the flowers sufficiently aromatic, the curth right for _ solidity and growth. The human face is admirably adapted =. 5 J _ for its work—sunshine in its smile, tempest in its frown, Two eyes, one more than absolutely necessary, so that if one. is put out, we still can look upon the sunrise and the faces of ‘ our friends. One nose, which is quite suffivient for thosewho _ | walk among so many city nuisances, being an organ of two — | stops, and adding dignity to the human face, whether it haye » the graceful arch of the Roman, or turn up towards the heay- éns with celestial aspirations in the shape of a pug, or wa- -vering up and down, now as if it would aspire, now as if it ae, would descend, until sudcenly it shies off into an unexpected direction, illustrating the proverb that it is a long lane which has no turn. People are disposed, I see, to laugh about ‘the nose, but I think that it is nothing to be sneezed at. se Standing before the grandest architectural achievements. _ Hitics have differences of opinion; but where is the blag y ft “phemer of his God who would criticise the arch of the sky, _ or the crest of a wave, or the flock of snow-wikite fleecy _ \elouds driven by the Shepherd of the wind across tne hilly a _\pastures of the heavens, or the curve of a snow-bank, or the burning cities uf the sunset, or the fern-leaf peneiese of the frost on a window-pane ? ; a Where there is. one Se: there are ten round a0 THE STANDARD SPEAKER, _ harmonies. A sky ful of robins to one owl ‘croaking ; ; whol “ede acres of rolling meadow-land to one place cleft of the grave digger’s spade; to one mile of rapids, where the river writhes among the rocks, it has hundreds of miles of gentle flow: — e water-lilies anchored ; hills coming down to bathe thelr feei, — stars laying their reflections to sleep on its bosom; boatmen’s oars dropping on it necklaces of diamonds, charivts of gol: woming forth from the gleaming forge of the sun to bear it i: See march to the sea. oy WOMAN'S CLAIMS.—Mise Anna Hf. Dickinson. (To be spoken by a female.) My good friends, listen to me for an instant. You have a son or daughter. Do you sit down at home all ag and do | nothing, learn nothing, and accomplish nothmg? If you’ bring that boy up that way—by setting him the same o wurse—it can not be expected but wh.t he will grow up-and : tepeat his parents’ example. The world expects him to go/ unc to ruin because he imitates you. You bring up your! do. daughter in the same way, and the world does not expect her / Wor to go to ruin; bnt it is God’s good mercy if she does not,| One : whether the ori knows it or not. Are they free from sor- Beot row? Is the eye dry of tears? There are chains stronger ing: i pene to break than irons. There are doors more difficult to pass you | meri Chan prison-folded ones. You pass them, your friends ae mie ter. ee turn _ Mark you, in all this 1 am saying not one word against the ian ‘home life. I do not mean to disparage the home duties o/Coura - these women. I am saying nothing about them. Every: such _ woman who sits here within the sound of my voice, sine) Yo ghe was so high, has been talked to and lectured to abouttothir them by*very small men, who know nothing about themlerisiy There are women who have found their place and have founou |” their work, and they do it. I am talking for the womepody who are searching for their eae: whose work is betur vith 81 them. An im Fon er. they. are satisfied and contented I deny ttmther ‘TAR STANDARD SPEAKER, ) some of the women before me perhaps will say this is fale. My good madam, my good little girl, I can convict you out of your own mouth. a am simply speaking the truth when _) {I say that they are not satisfied with this life that society | affrds them. You say that I am wrong. Every five minutes y they desire something better. 4 And you, my good sir, who cry out, “ What in the world | do they want? They are a great deal better off than we are. “They are sheltered and cared for.” Now I can convict you~ out of your own moutn. I never knew a man say, “J | wish I was a woman.” I never met a man in my time who would have been # woman for a single twenty-four hours. You say these women are exceptional; no, they are | not. If you say that the great majority of women will not~ 2 do hae or desire to be lawyers, physicians, min.sters, I grant it. — The majority of men do not do it, and a gre 4t maiority hadn't better be by the way they perform their dusles. If men would study. woman a little more, they would anderstand this question better. Be undeceived, my friends: a! Dd: not attempt to arrogate our best qualities. You see one joer | Woman who swerves in the presence of danger, yet there are_ not, one hundred who stand unabashed, undismayed, and coura gor- geously. | Turning your back on the one hundred, and look- — nger ing minutely at the one, you cry out, “There’s a woman for ass.you!” You see one woman who ruins her husband; you see hundreds who toil and study to advance their interests. You {turn your back upon the hundreds, and say, “ There’s a wo- st theman for you!” You see a woman with no help, counsel, en- ie oieouragement, schools, or colleges to back her. You sce ons. : very? uch woman who ascends the ladder of fame. since You see ninety men who attempt it and fail; you say aboutiothing You see one woman fail in the attempt, and with themlerisive fingers, you point and cry out, “ There's a Woman fo. , founvou !’ You see one woman who writes books which every womevody reads; paints pictures before which every one stands petur vith suspended breath ; carves marble which makes for her immortal fame; practices medicine, so that thousands ony ys unto her ; makes speeches, to which = Nata and i geese Mt you wish you were a man, that you could accomplish so and a0. They are not satisfied. They want something | more = © AO 5 aE SrANDAKD SPRARERS. brais, of thought, of genius which this woman displays ! -_, B woman does a grand thing grandly, she does it as a map . If she doex a small thing small ae omally, she does it ag wornan! THE SAME.—(Second Hetract.) Youna men, if you condemn all women for the failure ot” ons, why not elevate all women for the success of one? Rosa |- Bonheur puinis pictures. Does she elevate women? You | ' say she is an exception. Then, where a woman attempts and fails, why don’t you call her an exception? If she suc- | ceeds, she stands alone. If she fails, she stands the type of her race; and yet you pass no judgments upon man. : Do not unyail the weakness of poor human nature. It. _ not strange for these women that men have tempted them, - gome cases out of their ranks, and declared them to be their eouals. ‘Lo identify themselves with these men is to take upon themselves a rough way and a heavy cross. Masculin- _ ity is one thing and femininity is another. Ristori plays her | part in % woman’s way. Edwin Booth plays a man’s part in ® man's way. No one needs to be told that four-fifths of al tne want, suffering, and misery in the world is caused by | th want of a sufficient number of avenues of labor for womer Bchools ought to be established, wherein young girls and wo men might learn to fit themselves for the duties and place _ which are profitable in the world. How much misery saved: bow- many obstacles removed at once, if this was done ! _ As I look into the faces of some of these women before me realize how terrible a thing it is to be happy. Young gir! _ are here before me, full of courage and aspirations, with a loy: for all things. Is there any human being on the face of th earth quite as enthusiastic, quite as noble as those girls whd) are yet carrying school-books under their arms? I speak to) _ the young girls before me to-night. I say that, after all, talk o}) . fashion, talk of men, talk of society, nobody can do this wo but you yourselves for yourselves. Some men'can help yot - jJargely. Other men can help you to stand, yet, after all, Tm STANDARD SPEAKER, . ee SAS irk asc iecieey: won't t help you, and pablic opinivm stands threatening over you. What then? Do without public opinion; and if society closes its doors upon you, why, eee 8 society for yourself. _ After all, the great underlying rouble in this whole mattes , On the one side, indolence and lack of perseverance ; on “the other, degradation of labor Ly women themselves, Yow ine. a man who has been a bootblack, who has sold newapa Poy "4, the street, who stands up a millionaire, and he lets the work! know it, and nothing is said. You find a woman whe hag " carelly laid up money by work, and she is looked upon with scornful eyes and despised by those who consider it degrading _ to labor. There are women who despise labor who are de- ‘| spised by society for it. : ‘fhe whole system of society must be cuaage_, and then all the obstacles removed, and woman hersuif must undergo a change, before she can take advantage of a preliminary re | form. Do you ask me what it is I design? Whatisit that]. _ demand ? What reform Iam urging? What doI want? I "-want, in the first place, every woman to comprehend that she as born for herself, and not for another. I want every man - the woman beside him than she has to govern and control him. ~_ a No large heart, large brains, eRe: ssseke man needs te be a told that. 1 know that a great many men wis pr ‘eles to be wise and grave in their day and generation do oppose it, and use very large words against it. Men are arrogant in just as precise a— proportion as they are ignorant. It seems in this land af a3 if il were a natural habit. In his infancy, with no knowledge —_ thinks the world was made for him. Notuntil years pase id knowledge gathers and wisdom grows, does he compre | end that these things were before and will be afler him. Now antil years pass and the gates of death close, and he ie_ gathered around God’s throne, will it be revealed to ham that— the soul that stool beside him on earth is ae with bim ip the oe of God. the King hired the Hessians, but the truth remained true. The | THE STANDARD SPEAKER, THE AUTHORS OF OUR LIBERTY.—Geo. H. Ourtis, ‘Tux leaders of our Revolution were men of whom the simple truth was the highest praise. Of every condition in: life; they were singularly sagacious, sober and thoughtful: Lord Chatham spoke only the truth when he said to Frankl By of the men who composed the first Colonial Congress, “ The ‘Qungress is the most honorable assembly of statesmen sinc those of the ancient Grecks ard Romans in the most virtuous: -dmes.” Given to grave reflection, they were neither dreamers wor visionaries, and they were much too earnest to be rhetori- cians. It is a curious fact that they were generally men of s caim a temper that they lived to extreme age. With the ex: ception of Patrick Henry and Samuel Adams, they were most of them profound scholars, and studied the history of mankind that they might know man. They were so familiar with the lives and thoughts of the wisest and best minds of the past that a classic aroma hangs about ‘their writings and theif ‘speech ; and they were profoundly convinced of what states-— men always know, and the adroitest politicians never per you have debauched and demoralized that conscience by teach - ing that there are no natural rights, and therefore that there is” ; ao moral right or wrong in political action, you have poisone _ she wells and have rotted the crops in the ground. The th gr ‘eatest living statesmen of England knew this also—Hd-— mund Burke knew it, and Charles Jamés Fox, and William | Pitt, Warl of Chatham. But they did not speak for the King” or Parliament, or for the Engiish nation. Lord Gower spoke for them when he said in Parliament, ‘ ‘Let the Americant " ‘sik about their natural and diyine rights ! their rights as mer and citizens! their rights from God and nature! I am for’ enforcing these measures.” My lord was contemptuous, an 4 ¥athers saw the scarlet soldiers swarming o’er the sea, but more steadily they saw that national progress had bee! _ secure only in the degree that the political system had con former to natural justice, They knew the coming wreck of Fecperty aaa trade, but hey knew more surely, that Rome was “THR STANDARD SPRAKER. aever so rich as when she was dying, and, on the other hand, he Netherlands never sc powerful as when they were poorest Farther away, they read the names of Assyria, Greece, Egypt, They had art, opulence, splendor. Corn enough grew in the valley of the Nile. The Syrian sword was sharp as any. _ They were merchant princes, and the clouds in the sky were tivaled by their sails upon the sea. They were soldiers, and heir frown frightened the world. “Soul, take thine ease," hose empires said, languid with excess of luxury and life Yes; but you remember the king who had built his grandest alace, and was to occupy it on the morrow, but when the mar. ‘tow came the palace was a pile of ruins. “‘ Woe is me,” cried the king, “ who is guilty of thiscrime?” “ There is no crime,” replied the sage at his side; “ but the mortar was made of sand and water only, and the builders forgot to put in the lime.” fio fell the old empires, because the governors forgot to oo justice into their governments. es THE REAL CONQUEROR—Bishop Simpson, . Loox at the world at the present day. When. were there ever such changes? Look at our highways; look at the ¢on- truction -of our railroads; and I sometimes can hear the voice of the herald in the railroad going forward, and the engi- neer leveling the mountains, filling up the valleys, and making 8 direct way, and a smooth way, and a highway; it’ is con- . necting the ends of the earth together. It is literally the — falfillment of the prophecy, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” Knowledge shall be increased. This is befere the ~ coming of the great day. This prophecy is not only being fulfilled uy the rai roads, out look at the steamers connecting continents together be “— tween New York and Liverpool, New York and Havre, Boston -and Alexandria, San Francisco and China and Japan. The design was no doubt to make this earth one great brotherhood, — one great family. We have discovered every island, explored every sea. Surely knowledge is being increased! Look a the schools, the progress of education, tbe erection of sem kpariety the founding of colleges. ed t - ie pgs ea me STANDARD SPEAKER, a Look at the press, no longer driven by oe but by vast m . chinery, turning out its millions of pages every morning. Look at the number of books—at the languages. Our language | now spoken in almost every city in the world. The Bible hag - been translated into different languages and sent to the heathen countries. Missionaries are being sent out to have the people all in this way—thank God ! many are being converted, know _ sige is being increased. 4 "Phere is not a land to which we haye not sent some one tl” preach the Gospel. There is not a land which we are not try: ing to lift from the darkness. Religious: knowledge is being Increased over the face of the earth, and all this is prepare tory to the coming of Christ, Man has never asserted his superiority, yet God made man to rule over the earth ; but he is beginning to assert his eee his prerogative to rulé over _ the earth. Z We take the lightning fot the heayens, send it across mountains, send it into the sea, to bring nations together. When a man develops a great thought, he can send that thought by the lightning’s flash to China, Japan, to the eastern -sountries, tu the western seas—every where. It is preparing ce. ' the way of the Lord. What is this great gathering up of pre- cious metals, this uncovering the great treasures of the deep? __ How strange that all these ee were es until this feu Fagg BEC crimes of THE SAME. Creel etract) es tr as said. before the great day comes the sun shall nb ded _ sned and the moon shall be turned into blood, the stars shal ail frcm heaven, the powers of the earth shall be shaken Now the Seripture literally by this means a mighty commo tion among the kingdoms 97 the earth Look at those whe have called themselves the reigning powers of the globe, com pared themselves to the sun and moon. In the indications here there was to be a wonderful shaking among the ene and wonderful changes and bi a peters the Breat and mighty day of the Lord. z ; ae must be none ‘ip situation to receive knowledge ‘1HE STANDARD SPEAKER. ‘They must Le placed where all barriers to know.edge have | en removed. Look at the power claimed by the Roman thurch a thousand years ago, They claimed to dissolve their | allegiance, to absolve the English people from their allegiance | to their king. Look at all the power assumed by this churca , it is fast fading away. Christ is the conqueror. He is com. ing to subdue the world unto himself. The day is coming nd the conquest is near. The church is on her way to glory; for when Christ comes he comes by His power in the church. Our glorious Conqueror is coming. He is gathering hia forces, and they are coming from the east and west. Come, ye sons of men, gather upon the cross! They are gathering in Europe, in Asia; they are gathering in America, in Africa; they are coming from the islands of the sea. The old men are coming with their counsel, and the young men with their strength ; the maidens with their beatity—all! all! are com- ; mg, singing praises to Immanuel! Even the little babes—for of such is the kingdom of heaven are gathering with a song of glory on their lips, and the ligbt of heaven flashing in their eyes. They are coming bear- — g the standard—the cross. And now will you be with the Conqueror, or will you stand alone? Uk, ye men of skepticism, if any are here, can you read the ‘signs of the times? Can you look out among the nationa tan you see the great changes that have taken place, and say she latter day is not near? Oh, young men and women, make a vow to be the Lord’s. Say, “I wiil give myself ts: Christ.” Say to him, “I yield up every thing.” I hope that who are in this assembly this morning may sit at ‘]° bt band. ihe : ¥ ve THE STANDARD SPEAKER, THE CITIZEN’S HERITAGE.—Jas. M. Scoot, In ia true the battle is over. Military pageants no longet fill our streets; no list of killed and wounded ia now read with eager eyes and thrilling hearts. Fair hands no longet wipe the death-damps from the hero’s dying brow; yet noné_ ‘the less do we mourn the dead for whom the nation yet has aurels and tears, remembering that fidelity to the naticw’ a ' lead is loyalty to the living. a Banners are furled ; muskets stacked; the spider weaves his gossamer threads ath wish the old fortress gun; and stalwart arms, but lately fiercely swayed in fight, guide the plow, swing the hammer, tend the loom, or clasp in grateful tenden ness the forms of their beloved and unbereaved ! And we can devoutly, and with national thanksgiving, re | . joice that in the republic, floating out on the ensanguined sex of civil commotion, there was intelligence, integrity, and patriot | ism enough to anchor safe to Liberty. No dictator, thank — God! shall ever build, from the shattered elements of oul greatness, a throne, or coin a diadem from the pure gold of - : American patriotism. No! For while our idea of liberty x makes no room for despotism in the United States, w-. do not even purpose to permit the Man of December io peopl Mexico with a French army, or to create in Latin America ‘& colony for the empire of France. — “T am the State,’ war the favorite formula of 9 w«ak and _ wcious king (Louls XIV.) Sui these words come have a new meaning to the American citizen, who fee.r, ‘ter years - of strife, how near and dear to him is his native ..ad, with all d _ ita proud memories, its ———— its triumya., aud its com: 18 struggles. 7 To that citizen whose heart aout wits love of country © ‘there is deep significance in these siru~, words, “ I am the Staw.” The sense of civie respousibili‘y a4s been snd ever i the grand moral distinction of “prigh} xulers, giving pore mg nity and self-abnegation to their rv’e. It war. the roa re deeming feature, the being, or inspiration of Crom ¢ ut; - lends.a sublime charm to the career of William ¢7 Or .uge, it _keeps lofty and isolated the fame of Washingt¢ ; aud it shed s pate grace over fhe ELOY, of batege: : P : ia, OE ee y < -—_ ate Woitor 7 \s3ime* ee:

i ee p tical principles—principles that seek the better elevation an standard of human character; and the mechanics, in the intellectual character, bear more toward the real goud of mel _ than what pertains to polish and refinement. So you will no find a mechanic a very polished or refined writer; his styl is bold, striking and vigorous—he leaves beauties of comp jtion to the minister and the poet. His mind is strong 3m nuscular, like the power of his right arm. When he speakg nis opinions are stated in bold, decided terms, and he ney oils his speech with favored words; and for this he 1s ofte called a “ rough reformer.” The intellect of the mechanic is another kind of intellect than that of the minister, the lawyer and the doctor. The mechanics, when they start from the bench and strike out for a higher intellectual condition, their pathway is up among the first statesmen of our country. When you put a mechanic to a work-bench, it will not do to ~ say he is placed there for life; no! for ten chances to one - you will be mistaken, and perhaps before your back is turned __ that same mechanic may be wending his intellectual progres9 _ to a higher condition, and the next time you hear of him hi speech is reported in the papers. vi Let each mechanic, then, consume all his apare tima in im proving his mind; let him read the papers, join some good library, and read the best books; let him become acquainted with his country, the nature of its laws, power of the Consti- tution, and any thing else pertaining to the political comy act _ In one word, do your best to show the pampered Sow, taiat although you labor, yet you are not without suber atiaia " ments, “ ee ts Power.” THE SAME—(Second Htract. Raven was there a greater truism uttered than can be found i _ tn the worls of Marteau, the carpenter, a character found in Dr. Janes’ celebrated and well-known play of the “ Carpenter — @ Rouen.” Marteau listens to a sarcastic exclamation of a _ young nobleman who snoere at the charecter of the mechanic — Pre THE STANDARD SPEAKER, pon which he replied, “ Mecaanics, str, ARE NatTURE’s No- EN.” ‘This sentence ought to be engraved upon the heart every artisan throughout the Union. When the sneer of haughty aristocrat is thrown upon the valued labors of mechanics who provide every gratification he enjoys, when exquisite, the fop, the “ jack-a-dandy” of fine lace and ufties, founds his claims to public respect upon the wealtk quired by a mechanic father, and at the same time refuses to ociate with the men who pursue the same path by which t wealth was acquired—gaze upon him as a being unworthy f any respect whatever from all honest men, and shout in - s ear the words of Marteau; then fee. doubly grateful that, nlike him, you earn your bread by the sweat of your brow, beying the high behest of the greatest mechanic in the oni- erse, Jehovah himself. To be an American artisan, independent of wealthy organ- zations, dependent upon your own practical exertions for the » upport of yourselyes and families, is an honor that should — t be exchanged, even were an imperial diadem to be wou thereby. Wealth is, in nine timcs out of ten, a curse to ita — possessor ; anda life of slothful indolence, even if accompa- ed by all the luxuries of the four quarters of the globe, 1s ‘ar inferior to the life pursued by a hard-working, industrious “wnechanic. -Wealth may pander to the vitiated appetite, and ecure the possession of every criminal indulgence ; but it — “Dever can secure a contented mind, a heart filled with love te 1, and a graceful sense for the blessings we daily receive from m who dceth all things well. \ NATURE AND NATURE'S GOD.— Anonymous, _ Slow beautifil the world is! The green earth covered ith flowers—ile trees, laden with rich biussoms—the blue ky and the bright water, and the golden sunshine. The — orld is, indeed, deautiful; and He, who made it, must be pautiful. 2 Tt is a happy world. Hark! how the merry birds sing s ER young lamba, see! how Ausy ae en the pi em ve THR STANDARD SPEAKER, ven the trees waye, and the brouks ripple, in glad ness. ‘Yon eagle !—ah! how joyously he soars up to tha glorious heavens—the bird of liberty—the bird of Amenica. “ His throne, is on the mountain top; His fields, the boundless air ; And hoary peaks, that proudly prop The skies—his dwellings are. “He rises, like a thing of light, + Amid the noontide blaze 3 . ia The midday sun is clear and bright : It can not dim his gaze, ’ fs is happy—I see it and hear it all about me—nay, Ig - feel it here, in the glow, the eloquent, glow of my own heart, He who made it must be happy. It is a great world! Look off to the mighty ocean, when the storm is upon it; to the huge mountain, when the thunder andthe lightnings play over it; to the vast forest, — the interminable waste; the sun, the moon, and the myriads © of fair stars, countless as the sands upon the sea-shore. It is — a great, a magnificent world—and He who made it, oh! He — _is the perfection of all loveliness, all goodness, all greatness, 5 all glory. THE MODERN. GOOD.—Horace Mann. Tue history of the world shows an ever-present desire w mankind to acquire power and privilege, and to retain them, when acquired. Knowledge is power; and the race has suffered as much from the usurpers of knowledge, aa from Alexanders or Napoieons. If learning could be monop: sized by a few individuals amongst us, another _priesthoo? {,,yptian or Druidical, would speedily arise, bowing’ the soul _ # men beneath the burden of their terrible superstitions ; 01 _ ft iearning were more widely spread, but still confined to privileged order the multitude, unable to comprehend the source of the advantages it conferred, and stimulated by envy ‘and fear, would speedily extinguish whatever there might b of light—just as the owl, and the bat, and the mole, if they were promoted to the government of the solar system, would extinguish the sun, because its bears arrested their hunt £ feast and vermin, . " ie THE STANDARD SPEAKPR. The whole people must be instructed in the knowledge i: of their duties ; they must be elevated to a contemplation and — Somprehension of those great truths on which alone a goy- emment like ours can be successfully conducted; and any ~ “hope of arresting degeneracy, or suppressing the insurgent passions of the multitude by the influence of here and thure ‘an, individual, though he were wise as Solon or Sulom.« would prove as fallacious as au attempt to stop the influx @ malaria, by sprinkling a little chloride of lime along the crseisé and shallows of the shore, if the whole ocean, in ali is depths, were corrupted. — f I rejoice that this emergency has burst upon us. Ay Tes _joice that power has passed irrevocably into the hands of the people, although I know it has brought imminent peril upon all public and private interests, and placed what is common and what is sacred alike in jeopardy. Century after century foankind had groaned beneath unutterable oppression. To pamper a few with luxuries, races had been subjected to bond: age. To satiate the ambition of a tyrant, nations had beer dashed against each other in battle, and millions had beet crushed by the shock. The upward-tending, light-seeking capacities of the soul had been turned downward into dark ness and debasement. _ All the realms of futurity, which the far-seeing eye ol the mind could penetrate, had been peopled with the spectera of superstition. The spirits of the infernal world had been ubsidized, to bind all religious freedom, whether of thought, or of speech, in the bondage of fear. Heayen had been sold, for money, like an earthly domicil, by those who, least of all. tad any title to ifs mansions. In this exigency, it was the expedient of Providence, to transfer dominion from the, few ~ 5 w the many—from those who had abused it, to those whe nad suffered. The wealthy, the high-born, the privileged, iad had it in their power to bless the people; but they kad wrsed them, Now, they and all their fortunes are in the ands of the people. The poverty which they have entailed is to command their opulence. The ignorance they have suf fered to abound, is to adjudicate upon their rights. Theappe . ites they have neglected, or which they have stimulated for theiz wn indulgence, are to invade the sanctuary of their homes. \ Bec S THE STANDARD SPEAKER. In fine, that interest and concern for the welfare of im feriors, which should have sprung from motives of philan- thropy, must now be extorted from motives of self-preserya- tion. As famine teaches mankind to be industrious and provident, so do these great developments teach the more — favored classes of society that they never can be safe while ‘hey negiect the welfare of any portion of their social infe tee In a broad survey of the grand economy of Provi ence, the iesson of frugality and thrift, which is taught oy . she dearth of a single year, is no. plainer than this grander lesson of universal benevolence, which the lapse of centuries tas been evolving, and is now inculcating upon the world. OSSIAN’S ADDRESS TO THE SUN. O rxHov that roliest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! whence are thy beams, O sun? thy everlasting light _ Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide them: selves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the west- ern wave. But thou thyself moyest alone: who can be a compan‘op of thy course ? The oaks of the mountains fall ; ; the mountains them- ‘selves decay with years: the ocean shrinks and grows again; ‘the moon herself is lost in the heavens; but thou art forever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. Wher the world is dark with tempests, when thuncers ‘soll and lightnings fly, thou lookest in thy beauty from the .stouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thon lock — mt in vain; for he beholds thy beams no more, whethes ‘ny yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremb:eat at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season ; thy years. will have anend. Thou wilt sleep in thy clouds, careless of | _ the voice of the morning. Exult, then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth—age is dark and unlovely : it is like the glim- meéering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills, the blast of the North is op the plains, the traveler shrinks in the midst of his journey. INDEPENDENCE BELL—JULY 4, 1777. WaxEn it was certain that the “Declaration” would be sdopted and confirmed by the signatures of the delegates in Congress, it was determined to announce the event by ringing _ the old State House Bell, which’ bore the inscription: “ Pro- claim liberty throughout the land, to all the inhabitants there — of!” and the old bellman posted his little boy at the door ol the Hall to await the instruction of the doorkeeper when fing. At the word, the little patriot scion rushed out, and flinging up his hands, shouted, “ Ring/ Rixe!! RINGII?’ There was tumult in the city, In the quaint old Quaker town, And the streets were rife with people Pacing restless up and down ; | People gathering at corners, Where they whispered each to each, And the sweat stood on their temples, With the earnestness of speech. As the bleak Atlantic currents Lash the wi.d Newfoundland shore, So they beat against the State House, 80 they surged against the door; And the mingling of their voices Made a harmony profound, Till the quiet street of chestnuts Was all turbulent with sound. “ Will they do it?’ “Dare they do it ?” “Who is speaking ?” “ What's the news?” “What of Adams?” “ What of Sherman ?” “ O1! God grant they won’t refuse !” “Make some way, there!” “ Let me nearer f “JT am stifling!” “ Stifle, then; When a nation’s life’s at hazard We've no time to think of men !” So they beat against the portal— Man and woman, maid and child; And the July sun in heaven pus the scene looked down and smiled ; THti STANDARD SPRARER The same sun that saw the Spartan _ Shed his patriot blood in vain, Now beheld the soul of freedom All uncouquered rise again. & * * Aloft in that high steeple Sat the bellmar, old and gray; He was weary of the tyrant And his iron-sceptered sway ; So he sat with one hand ready On the clapper of the bell, When his eye should catch the signai, Very happy news to tell. See! see! the dense crowd quivers Through all its lengthy line, As the boy beside the portal ~ Looks forth to give the sign ! With his small hands upward lifted, - Breezes dallying with his hair, Hark ! with deep, clear intonation, Breaks his y:ung voice on the air. Hushed the people’s swelling murmur, List the boy’s strong joyous cry! \ “ Ring /” he shouts aloud; “ Rina! Grenades: Ring! O! Riva for LIBERTY! — And straightway, at the signal, / The old bellman lifts his hand, — And sends the good news, making Tron music through the land. How they shouted! What rejoicing How the old bell shook the air, Till the clang of freedom ruffled The calm gliding Delaware! How the bonfires and the torches Illumed the night’s repose, Y And from the flames, like Phoenix, Fair liberty aroge ! That old bell now is silent, And hushed its iron tongue, | Bat ibe spirit it awakened’ ~ Still lives—forever young. And while we greet the sunlight On the Fourts of each Jury, We'll ne’er forget the bellman, Who, ’twixt the earth and sky, Rung out Our INDEPENDENCE! Which, please Gon, shall never dés/ JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBCRG.—¥F. B. Harte Have you heard the story that gossips tell Of John Burns of Gettysburg ?—No? Ah, well} Brief is the glory that hero earns, Hi Briefer the story of poor John Burns ; He was the fellow who won renown— The only man who didn’t back down When the rebels rode through his native town ; But held his own in the fight next day, When all his townsfolk ran away. That was in July, sixty-three, . The very day that General Lee, | The flower of Southern chivairy, Baffled and beaten, backward reeled . From a stubborn Mead and a barren field. I might tell how, but the day before, John Burns stood at his cottage-door, Looking down the village street, ‘ _ Where, in the shade of his peaceful vine, Be heard the low of his gathered kine, Anc felt their breath with incense sweet ; Or, I might say, when the sunset burned The old farm gable, he thought it turned The milk that fell in a babbling flord {nto the milk-pail, red as blood ; - . —_ a :) st STANDARD SPEAKER. Or, how he fancied the hum of bees Ba | Were bullets buzzirg among the trees Pie But all such fanciful thoughts as these #2 Were strange to a practical man like Burns, Who minded only his own concerns. Troubled no more by fancies fine Than one of his calm-eyed, long-tailed kine~ Quite old-fashioned, and matter-of-fact, Slow to argue, but quick to act, That was the reason, as some folk say, He fought so well on that terrible day And it was terrible. On the right. Raged for hours the heavy fight, — Thundered the battery’s double-bass— Difficult music for men to face; While on the left—where now the graves iw Undulate like the living waves tea That all the day unceasing swept a Up to the pits the rebels kept— it care. Round shot plowed the upland glades, Ds a Sown with bullets, reaped with blades; Shattered fences here and there Tossed their splinters in the air; The very trees were stripped and bare; The barns that once held yellow grain _ ics Were heaped with harvests of the slain, pe eras The cattle bellowed on the plain, ‘ ea The turkeys screamed with might and mss, And brooding barn-fowl left their rest With strange shells bursting in each nest. Just where the tide of battle turns, Erect and lonely, stood old John Burns. How do you think the man was dressed ? He wore an ancient, long buff vest, | Yellow as saffron—but his best ; And, buttoned over his manly breast, Was a bright blue coat with a rolling collar. baer And large gilt buttons—size of a dollar—~ age With tails that country-felk called “ awaller.” ie _ That the gleam of his old white hat afar _ ‘That day was their oriflamme of war on THE STANDARD SPEAKER, He wore a broad-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, i White as the locks on which it sat. | : : a Never had such a sight been seen ; For forty years on the village-green, Since John Burns was a country beau, And went to the “ quilting ” long ago. Close at his elbows, all that day Veterans of the Peninsula, ae a Sunburnt and bearded, charged away, 4 And striplings, downy of lip and chin— i Clerks that the Home-Guard mustered in— i Glanced as they passed at the hat he wore, ; Then at the rifle his right hand bore ; ‘ And hailed him from out their youthful lore, _ With scraps of a slangy repertoire : “ How are you, White Hat?” “Put her through !" “ Your head’s level!” and “Bully for youl? Called him “ Daddy ”—and begged he’d disclose The name of the tailor who made his clothes, And what was the value he set on those ; While Burns, unmindful of jeer and scoff, - Stood there picking the rebels off— With his long, brown rifle and beil-erown hat, And the swallow-tails they were laughing at. 'Twas but a moment, for that respect Which clothes all courage their voices checked ; And something the wildest could understand Spake in the old man’s strong right hand, And his corded throat, and the lurking frown Of his eyebrows under his old bell-crown ; Until, as they gazed, there crept an awe Through the ranks in whispers, and some men saw In the antique vestments and long white hair ~ The Past of the Nation in battle there. =~ And some of the soldiers since declare Like the crested plume of the brave Navarre, THE STANDA SPEAKER. Thus raged the battle, You know the rest; How the rebels, beaten and backward Diets Broke at the final charge and ran. : At which John Burns—a practical man Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows, — And then went back to his bees and ¢ cows. This is the story of old John Burns ; _ This is the moral the reader learns: In fighting the battle, the question’s whether ; You'll show a hat that’s white, or a feati er, __NO SECT IN HEAVEN. Taxxrne of sects till late oneeve, - | Of the various doctrines the saints believe, That night I stood, in a troubled dream, _ By the side of a darkly flowing stream. And a “Churchman” down to the river came, _ When I heard a strange voice call his name, ek Good father, stop; when you cross this tide, You must leave your robes on whe other side* But the aged father did not mind ; And his long gown floated out behind, As down to the stream his way he took, _ His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book. “Pm bound for heaven ; and when I'm there Shall want my Book of Common Prayer ; And, though I put on a starry crown, ; T should feel quite lost without my gown.” Then he fixed his eyes on the shining track, “But his gown was heavy and heid him back, - And the poor old father tried in vain, ‘ A single step in the flood to gain. I saw him again on the other side, - Auth his ati gown floated on the i See ve ya THE sTAND. SPEAKER... And no one asked, in that blissful spot, Whether he Denese to the “ Church” or not Then down to the river a Quaker strayed : His dress of a scber hue was made: ‘My coat and hat must all be gray— T can not go any other way.” Then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin, And staidly, solemnly, waded in, And his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight, Over his forehead so cold and white. ik But a strong wind carried away his hat; y A moment he silently sighed over that; And then, ashe gazed to the further shore, i tary BS The coat slipped off, and was seen no more. . b. As he entered heaven his suit of gray a Went quietly sailing, away, away; And none of the angels questioned him About the width of his beaver’s brim. Next came Dr. Watts, with a bundle of psalms Tied nicely up in his aged arms, é And hymns as many, a very wise thing, That the people in heaven, “all round,” might sing But I thought that he heaved an anxious sigh, - And he saw that the river ran broad and high, And looked rather surprised, as one by one The psalms and hymns in the wave went down. And after him, with bis MSS., Came Wesley, the pattern of godliness ; But he cried, “‘ Dear me! what shall I do? The water has soaked them through and through,’ And there on the river far and wide, | Away they went down the swollen tide ; - And the saint, astonished, passed through alune, Without his manuscripts, up to the throne ; me eraNpanb SPEAKER, Then, gravely watklig two saints ne name Down to the stream together came ; But, as they stopped at the river’s brink, I saw one saint from the other shrink. “ Sprinkled or plunged, may I ask you, friend, How you attained to life’s great end ”” — “Thus, with a few drops on my brow.” “But I have been dipped, as you'll see me now _ “ And I realiy think it will, hardly do, As I’m ‘ close communion, to cross with you; You're bound, I know, to the realms of bliss, _ But you must go that way, and Y'll go this.” Then straightway plunging with all his might, Away to to the left—his friend to the right, _ Apart they went from this world of sin, _ But at last together they entered in. _ And now, when the river was rolling on, A Presbyterian church went down; ; Of women there seemed an innumerable throng, But the men I could count us they passed along. And concerning the road, they could never agree, The old or the new way, which it could DG}. S53 Nor ever a moment paused to think That both would lead to the river’s brink. And a sound of murmuring, Jong and loud, Came ever up from the moying crowd _ You're in the old way, and I’m in the new; - That is the false, and this is the true ’— i Or, “Tm in the old way, and you're in the new | That is the false, and thds is the true.” But the brethren only seemed to speak : Modest the sisters walked and meek, And if ever one of them chanced to say _ ‘What troubles she met with on the way, _ How she longed to pass to the other side, Nor feared to cross over the swelling tide THE STANDARD SPEAKER, A voice arose from the brethren then, * Let no one speak but the ‘holy men;’ For have ye not l:eard the words of Paul, | ‘ Oh, let the women keep silence all ?” I watched them long in my curious dream, Till they stood by the borders of the stream Then, just as I thought, the two ways nact; But all the brethren were talking yet, And would talk on till the heaving tide Carried them over side by side— Side by side, for the way was one; The toilsome journey of life was done; _ And all who in Christ the Savior died, Came out alike on the other side. No forms or crosses or books had they ; No gowns of silk or suits of gray; No creeds to guide them, or MSS, ; _ For all had put on Christ’s rignteousnesa MISS PRUDE'S TEA PARTY.— ' and yet this idea has been struggling for ages. I look ayay back on the pages of history, and hear it preached by Him who Made it, in his death, the sublime lesson of His life ean een undred years ago. _ Prond and imperial Rome stood crowned and sceptered araic er seven hills, apparently the strongest power in the world the same time, in a manger, lay a child, whose work of re~ orm was destined to live when the proud empire should be - Aid away amid the dead kingdoms. This idea, my friends, 1et with opposition, just the same as this idea of equal rights heets with opposition to-day. This man held up the singi¢ idea taught by Jesus Christ, with His giant enthusiasm fe: Umsnity, and it was met by opposition from every distinct And yet this reform, meeting with all this opposition, lived On until it became the professed frith of the most enlightened nd progressire nation of the earth. The men who martyred us Christ now sleep in forgotten praves. He jives and hines in the hearts of all who accept Him as the true liviny — “etARDARD SPRAKER. Christ. The crown of thirns has eect to a diadem of glory, and the cross has become a power and ensign of victory. — The Protestant Reformation sprung from the same spirit, and still figlits its way against the ignorance and superstition of ages. It lived on until the Inquisition ceased to claim ite victims, until the awto da fe no longer lit its fires, until Prot ‘sant kings sat upon the very thrones from which the (diet: wanist the children of Reformation had gone forth, Men then grappled with agony and death so that they cod. eeure the rights which we this day enjoy. We are carry‘ng | ~ yn the cause, but we have only got through one part of the — struggle; the reform we are now carrying on, we may feel as | sured, notwithstanding all the opposition, notwithstanding all | the obstacles in its way, with truth and justice clasping hands, | _— shall yet win the fight. ; THE BENEFICENCE OF THE SEA.—Rev. Dr. Willite Noruine can be more lovely than the sea; there is rapture on its pebbly shore; music in its far-resounding waves; re _ freshing inspiration in its pure, sweet breath, which I find no e where else under heayen. But apart from this personal at tachment, there is an instrinsic richness far beyond that which many persons imagine. No where else in nature can be found _ such noble charms, no where else does she teach such sublime lessons. Few persons are aware of the vast debt of igpentiiiate we owe tc the sea, because very few consider the unspeakabie > _henefits we der:ve from this generous part of nature. Ths apostle has said, “The earth is full of Thy riches, but so is th, wide sea.” He then re-erred to the Mediterranean, that litt) © arm of the great ocean, What would he have said nad he known as we do of that mighty deep which covers three- : fourths of the globe, and is filled from its glassy bosom to its deep bed, from its center to its remotest shore, filled brim-full) , with leaxty and mystery; with power and sublimity ; with |) beneficente and riches. If you would sce all the varying, beauties of nature, you must go to the sea; there will they be oe found, whether the sea is oy or convulsed » If you would Gill. STANDARD SPRAKER. witness the veacefully sublime, you must stand on some high and overhanging cliff, and look forth upon the gently heaving murface, when it lies still and calm, like a sleeping infant, while the smooth, glittering expanse grows out before you, boundless, trackless, tathomless, mysterious. Would you have the grandest nid noblest reflections of the invisible that can be found in the "universe, you have but to gaze on the ocean, with its varying _ scenes, to tearn of the infinity, the immensity, the eternity } and mystery of Jehovah. As Byron expresses it, the ocean is “The glorious mirror where the Almighty’s form glasses itself.”’ fHE SAME. —(Second Halrac’.) WouLp you have the terribly sublime, look out upon that mighty deep, when the storm-spirit: walks the waters, majestic waves rol! up with their snowy white crests and ally them selves with the howling winds, black clouds, and the thunder: 7 bolts of heaven, going forth to do the Almighty’s bidding How sublime the ocean then; how sublime its vastness, its ac. ‘tions ; how terribly sublime its power ! In such a sea, in suck & presence, bow feeble and impotent is man, and how omnip- otent the Almighty! But not only for sublimity or beauty does the ocean stand unrivaled. To find this beauty you need “not in imagination descend with the pearl-diver into its watery depths, but go down to its surf-beaten shores and there — pick up the glittering pebbles on its silvery beach. You have mt to raise your eyes, gaze out upon its broad expanse, and | behold the most beautiful sight in nature. A mountain way- a { tolls up to break upon the beach. As it rises with the very poetry of motion into the air, its lofty crest curling into a lin f matchless grace, it forms a miniature cascade to break ii But the sea has not only the richest charms of its own, ' but it mirrors the beauties of earth and heaven. Here they | | Come to reflect their highest charms. The clouds love to — move over its bosom and see the gorgeous dyes of their ward- obes blended. Over the sea the rainbow spans, the silvery ven, reflecting and perfecting its circle of beauty. The “THE STANDARI SPEAKER, sunbeams cast themselves into its unfathomed depths, aud dance | to and fro with the winds and waves in freedom. Tune sisier- hood of stars and planets find their mates there; the sister. hood of stars in th. sky find a brotherhood of tals in the sea; for “Every wave w:th glittering face that leaped into the air, — Caught a star in its embrace, and kolds it there.” } What music so beautiful as that upon the borders of the sea | r: What cliffs, and fields, and dwellings so enchanting as those by | the reflecting sea? The spirit of beauty and loveliness has} . ita home in its depths, and on its surface, and along its saores, | were THE SAME. —(Thira Extract.) How vast have been the benefits afforded to mankind by} | the sea, as a great means of communication between the) countries of the earth! If it had not been for the ocean, al the surface of the earth would have been one vast, unbroker| * continent; communication would have been impossible ; no * highway of the nations, One system of railroads, runnin hither and thither, in intricate lines, and now see the wonder | ful result of civilization, which has enabled the world to lay) — all countries under contribution! With all the life and ad vanced stage of civilization, there is not yet one single reil-| road across the continent; but the wide sea has afforded t man the broad, permanent, easily-traveled highway to a _ nations of the earth. NS Look at our own country, and see how long it would have) ‘\aken the whole civilization of the world to furnish even az! “ gnperfect entrance to all its parts, such as has been given by) _ the sea that washes all our shores, makes our rivers and veit) takes, which interpenetrate our whole continent. Look a that great chain of lakes, like a necklace of oa which the’ the people of San Francisco, three thousand miles away, ‘wi 45 upon the same glorious orb, as it sinks into the hosom of thee THE STANDARD SPEAKER. — @auific. and by the little arms of the fathomless deep, the tenter of the continent pours its riches into both these cities | our manufactures we owe to the sea. . Power is furnished by the water-wheel and ateain eager ‘the water and steam are but that which come from the rolliue deep. It is the sea which spins your thread, runs your mil’: } cuts iron bars, and rolls them out into papery thinness, It . | the sea that tunnels the mountain, bores the well, lays 1. _froa track, and with its fiery breath puts energy into the iro, horse, and makes it speed along the way. It is the sea which: | does for man his mechanical work, in subduing oyntingnls, and revealing the riches of the earth. If the sea should be dried, and its right arm of power be _ | taken away, the wheels of progressive civilization would be | stayed. Think, again, of the food it affords to man, its shell- | fish, and. lobsters, and fish of such delicious flavor. Notice | the many innumerable vessels employed in fishing for various nds, from the small and delicate to the large unwieldy fish, “which are so beneficial to man for use. So the sea gives in- - exhaustible riches to man. It is a vast storehouse of all the — | beauties aud necessaries of life. THE SAME.—(Fourth Hztract.) Ons of the most interesting and peculiar phases of the sea the influence which it has on the nature of man. Leta an once become the adopted child of the ocean, and she s so stamped her impress upon him that time can not _ ‘srase it. The true sailor is a marked character, peculiar in ee tis othes, style of speech when he talks, and gait when he ‘ai Walks These characteristics are among the noblest kind, the| Sud where allied to morality and truth, present the finest naj *Pet-mens of a man. Bone of the first and most prominent characteristics which The sailor, rocked in the midst of the rolling and lagh- jing waves; with the winds howling and shrieking around, — ‘Qnd the lightning darting its ie ae amid the darknese courage. ght Goes : Pe TUK STANDARD) SEAS ER: of the drape the ition ‘tal constant danger, becomes ant the nursling of the storm, and inevitably becomes animated — with a dauntless and courageous spirit. In the noise of battle. amid all its dangers, Jack is always filled with manifen Another trait of the aia is that of pereroute: The occat le generous; her bosom yields spontaneously, not like reluc ‘ant earth, which needs the cutting of the plow and ths | - ttawing of the harrow, to prepare for its backward and oftes | _ meager harvest. The sea gives with a bounteous hand— | . spontaneously and freely she yields her riches to all classes | and corditions of humanity. You never saw the sailor turn |, a deaf ear, or show a cold heart. when he falls in with a ship |), - mate in distress, Another trait which the ocean stamps upon the nature of the child of the sea, is the love of freedom, and the desire of |. excitement. He is constantly mid scenes the very types of |, ‘liberty. The floating clouds, unfettered breezes, the heaving |, deep, obey but the mandate of Jehovah. They have no |; _ respect for that little tyrant called man. Man vainly aspires to the calling of himself the monarch of the ocean; but when | - the master-spirit of the storm arises, then al! these aspirations |,. and sayings fall to nothing. The sea is Hers it cares nothing | for kings or conquerors—_ J 1, : “The sea, the sea, the nan sea, ; . The blue, the fresh, the ever-free.”” | This spirit of liberty.the ocean “reathes into her children ac You see it in his open collar, loose necktie, wide breeches, and |j,. rolling gait, which at once point him out to the observer |p Thank God! you can’t find, once in a thousand, an infide! railor. You have but to study the sailor character, and yor |, will find Jack inspired, also, with a love for the fair sex. Ne |y ~ man respects woman more than Jack; none esteems her, morally and intellectually, more than he. None know the debt of gratitude they owe the sailor trata the time long ago, when, by his genius and far-seeing knowl: |r, edge, this fine land was discovered, to the present day, when | ali our lakes and rivers and the great ocean itself are crossed by | him, to bring riches and the blessings of all lands to the people, People have misjudged the nature of Jack They have seer THE STANDARD SPEAKER. him when the ever-watchful “land-sharks” have led him imto ll manner of most pernicious vices. We have only to protect | him from the dangers, which are many on shore, to trap hin Into dens of vice and wickedness. Look to their weltare, and ‘ou will soon see them the truest, most virtuous, generous, | Sad courageous of all men. SUFFRAGE.*—Henry Ward Beecher _ « PURPOSE to present to you to-night, as a subject, “ Uni- * | versal Suffrage—Manhood Suffrage ;” for I hold that the right : |to vote is not a right conferred, but a right inherent. I be lieve not that a man has this right conferred by a body whe | Vote it as a prerogative, but I believe it is theirs as an inherent Tight conferred by that constitution which God gaye them ‘When they were born ; and this I shall argue, carrying it out _|t the most logical results This view is the natural’resultof the unfolding of Americau history from the spring of that ‘jhistory. Jriginally, only the church members could vote in our col- ies. This now excites a smile. That is only a new varia- tion of the aristocratic class; for it was held that the dest men in society should govern the State, and that term is orig- — “nally the very term of aristocracy. In one age and state it }Was determined that such and such men were the best men, another age and ccndition of civilization, it was held that ch and such other men were tke best men. Our New Eng: d fathers undertook to put the State under the control of — e best men; and they held that the best men were tke Ost sincere Christians; and if there was to be any class ‘Why, of course, the honest Christian men are the best fitted ‘he that class. Practically, it would be folly and evil. I (u gave political power to church members, then we should — ave a revival constantly going on in every part of the land — mm} But there was a change, reluctant and slow. In losing» vi. bower, our fathers felt as all men do. They loved it; they Mid not like to part with it when they had it, Notwithstanding These several extracts, being parts of one lecture, can be spoken with foul effect, if four boys—each committe to memory one extract—sbould How one another in the delivery, thus giving the audience the whole ar ent, as well gs determining the relative merits of the several speakere wpe TH STANDARD SPEAKER, | - theiy conscientious theories, suffrage forced itself broade and broader throughout New England, penetrating all classet of society; and from that day to this, society has been in America, every where, agitated with the question of suffrage. The idea of suftrage has been, and still is with many, as a measure of expediency, that it is to be a matter which the State will regulate, to be governed by the State authorities This takes from man his natural right of' manhood. Univer ai suffrage is the logical and fundamental principle of Amer ‘ea. society. All political power springs from the people | Governments derive their powers from the governed. Noth- : ing can be more broad than this. The people confer all the ‘power that a Government has. It was from tue people that} | the Government derived its power and laws, which they have delegated to it. : * THE SAME.—(Second Ewtract.) Bt From whom did the power come to vote? From the P whole people, who are originally the great reservoir of that} ot as of every other political power. To expunge, therefore} § large classes of men from political power is a gross inconsis | tency with our fundamental principles of government. say that they shall not vote is to say that they shall not exe _ cute those powers which the Government derives from then -—derived from them that it might care for and protect them not diminish nor destroy them. We have never consistently] carried out our own democratic principles. We have generd” ally proceeded on the rule that the Government belongs tq the best part of society. The exercise of political power ig ™ extended but to a small part—not probably to one-third o dhe population of the country. If we exclude color, country. It is highly connected, being closely related to the. brain, and is so much exalted that it is borne along on the. — © tops of men’s shoulders daily. _ There are a great variety of necks, some long, some short ; - some thick, some thin; some fat, some scrawny; some stiff, — some pliant; some clean, and a great many dirty. Long: recked folks enjoy their victuals more than those who have — _ short necks. The reason is obvious—they can taste them | _ “ 0 ation, I turn my eyes to the universe, and from the nares in firmament down to the atom of dust at my feet, I see crea tion crying out aloud that there isa God. The feeble spark of — is eternal spirit glinymering in my brain, my reason, revolts ainst the thought that it should lie at the mercy of advyen- ‘arous crime to break the eternal chain of moral laws, whica the sovereign decree of an omnipotent and self-consistey vill, have ruled the world since creation dawned, and wil le it at the consummation of time. My reason revolte inst the thought that a worm, the offspring of the dust, can With impunity defy those laws by which the Eternal Law- iver has bound not only the fluctuations of human évents, but has bound even His own immovable will. No; I do not "believe i in the stability of successful crime T turn my regard tom the universe to history, the mirror of the future, because the record of the past, and I see that crime sometimes may — have flashed up with the dazzling blaze of a passing moment, but the success of crime never yet did last, therefore never ts all. AGRICULTURE. —Hdward Koeerett. Tu newly-created father of mankind was placed by the ‘Supreme Author of his being in the garden, which the hand — | of Omnipotence itself had planted, “to dress and to keep it.” Before the heaving bellows had urged the furnace, before a ammer had struck upon an anvil, before the gleaming watera hac flashed from an oar, before trade had hung up its scales Or gauged its measures, the culture of the soil began. e “To dress the garden and to keep it,”—this was the key. t¢ struck by the hand of God himself, in that long, joyous, « oe #ailing, triumphant, troubled, pensive strain of. life-music Which ecunds through the generations and ages of our race nished from the garden of Eden, man’s merciful sentence— once docm, reprieve and livelihood — was, “to till. the ‘ound from which he was taken ,” and this, in its primitive — mplicity, was the occupation of the gathering societies of is “3 To this wholesome discipline, the mighty East, in the s of her ascendency was trained ; Tapia was b « THE STANDARD SPEAKER. progress that, in periods anterior to the dawn of history, she bad tamed the domestic animals—had saddled the horse and yoked the ox, and milked the cow and sheared the patient vseep and possessed herself of all the cereal grains (with the ~ exception of maize, and that controverted), which feed man- kind at the present day. Agriculture, I say, was the great pursuit of the prime\~- Cust. Before the intellectual supremacy of Greece was «dt “eloped, while the Macedonian sword slept in its scabbard gefore the genius of military domination was incarnate in the Roman legion; while the warlike North yet wandered in her pathless snows—the Persian traveled far on the road to uni- 7 versal conquest and empire. - From the Ionian Gulf to the © Indus, from the Tanais to the sources of the Nile, a hundred | E and twenty-seven satraps, in the name of the great king, ad- ministered that law of the Medes and Persians, which neve changed ; and throughout this mighty monarchy——one of the most extensive that ever obeyed one ruler—next to war, agri- — culture was the honored pursuit. On this subject the Greek # historian Xenophon has preserved to us a charming anecdote: | On a certain occasion, one of those half-mythical Persian | sovereigns, into whose personal history the philosophers of — Greece delighted to weave their highest conceptions of royal polity, Cyrus the younger, received Lysander, the envoy of the Grecian allies, at Sardis; and, conducting him into the royal © grounds, pointed out the beauty of the plantations, the straight | aventies of trees, their re :tangular disposition, and the fragrant” shrubbery that shaded the waiks. “ Truly,” cried the {partun warrior, unused to these de | lightful but manly refinzments, “I admire the beautiful scene, | tnt much more should I admire the artist by whose skill if 7 vas created.” Cyrue, pleased with this commendation, ey F - daimed, “It was all Joid out and measured by myself, and @ ) poition of the trees jlunted by my own hands.” The aston 7 ished Lacedemonivn chieftain, looking up at Cyrus, arrayed, 7 as was, and is, the fashion of the East, in royal purple, hia] Pe arms and fingers sparkling with rings and bracelets, and his 7 tobes exhaling perfumes, exclaimed, “‘ You have planted thesé | trees with your own hands?” “ Yes, by heavens,” cried Oy: | ras; “nor do { ever go to my dinner till I have earned my ] THE STANDARD SPEAKER. 6 , appetice by some military or agricultural exercise.” The 7 . Bpartan saw in these manly, strength-gizv ng, life-giving gym- nastics, the secret of the power whircu for tie time had mag- tered the world; and, clasping the bunds of the virtuous Prince, exclaimed, “‘Justly hast theu prospered, O Cyrus! Thou art fortunate because thou dcservest to de.” The Persian sunk beneath the sword of the Macedoniar "whose short-lived empire fel) with its youthful founder. Hex - Alexander the Great planted trees in the intervals of his wara and drank water, like Cyrus, he might have lived to estab'isk the most extensive empire the world has yet seen. But a new portent of conquest was springing up in the West, on the fru- gal acres of Etruria and Latium. That Cincinnatus, whe drove the A%qui and Volsci from the gates of Rome; that ' Paulus Amilius, who led the last king of Macedonia with his ' family in triumph up the steps cf the Capitol; that Scipio, who, at Zama, for ever broke the power of Carthage ; those - iron-handed, iron-hearted consuls who conducted the Roman | legions over degenerate Greece, and fiery Africa, 2ud eifenii- nate Asia, in the intervals of war and conquest tuled their little Latian farms. That stern censor, who first made the 7 same of austere frugality synonymous with Cato, wrote a treatise on the cultivation of the s/il; and so sure was a great Roman chief, in the best days of uhe republic, to be found at his farm, that the sergeants-at-aims, sent by the Senate to Summon him to the cominand of legions and the concest of nations, were technically callea viatores, “ travelers.” At length the Roman civilization perishe@, and a new one, resting on the morality of the gospel and the hardy virtues of the northern races, took its place, and has subsisted, with gradual modifications, to the present day. Its first politica teyelopmenut was in the land-tenures of the feudal system, ané } it still rests on the soil. Notwithstanding the great multiph | Cation of pursuits in modern times, the perfection of the use — ful ana the fine arts, the astonishing expansion of commercial Manufacturing and mechanical industry, agriculture has kept Dace with other occupations of society, and continues to be the foundation of the social system; the tenure, cuitivation, ‘and produce of the soil still remain the primary wieresta of tho community. © THER STANDARD SPRAKER. IRELAND.—Thomas Francis Meagher. Wo speaks to Ireland of depression? Banish it! Le a vot the banners droop, let not the battalions reel, when the yourg chief is down! You have to avenge that fall, Vath” that fall shall have been avenged, a sin blackens the son) ef the nation, and repels from our cause the sympathies of evy7y yeJant people. J Ko: one, I am pledged to follow him. Once again the} 7 Yall have to pack their jury-box; once again ¢xhibit to th. ~ world the frauds and mockeries, the tricks and perjuries, upon F_ which their power is based. In this island the English never —neyver shall have rest! The work, begun by the Norman, never shall be completed ! Generation transmits to generation the holy passion which}. pants for liberty, which frets against oppression. From the blood which drenched the scaffolds of 1798 the’ felons of this } year have sprung. Should their blood flow, peace, and loy- 7 alty, and debasement, may here, for a time, resume theil | reign; the snows of a winter, the flowers of a summer, may 7 clothe the proscribed graves; but from those graves there : shall hereafter be an armed resurrection. : Peace, loyalty, and debasement, forsooth!, A stagnant so 7 ciety, breeding in its bosom slimy, sluggish things which make | theix way by stealth to the surface, and there creep, cringe, # and glitter in the glare of a provincial royalty. Peace, loy- | alty, and debasement / A mass of pauperism, shoveled off the J land, stocked in fever-sheds and poor-houses, shipped to Can- ' adian swamps—rags, pestilence, and vermin! Behold the Jy rule of England,—and, in that rule, behold humanity de 7 ‘hroned, and Providence blasphemed ! | To keep up this abomination, they enact their Jaws of fel my. To sweep away the abomination, we must Lreuk tnroagt their Jaws. Should the Jaws fail, they will Ledge in thé > abomination. with their bayonets and gibbets. . These, too; F shall give way before the torrent of fire which gathers in thé 7 soul of the people. The question so long debated-—debated z years azo on fields of blood—debated latterly in a yenal 7 yenate aiid the jeers and yells of faction--the question as # | who shail be the owners of this island, must be this year Ge termine. The end is at hand and so—unite and arm/ . THE STANDARD SPEAKPR. x» | THE PEOPLE ALWAYS CONQUER.—Adward Everett. __ 8m, in the efforts of the people—of the people strugghng for their rights—moving, not in organized, disciplined masses, ) but in their spontaneous action, man for man, and heart for | heart—there is something glorious. They can then move ‘forward without orders, act together without combination, } %ud brave the flaming lines of battle without intrenchments “@ rover or walls to shield them. No dissolute camp ha. ‘Worn off from: the feelings of the youthful soldier the fresh. Yess of that home, where his mother and his sisters sit wait- "lng, with tearful eyes and aching hearts, to hear good news from the wars; no long service in the ranks of a conqueror } has turned the veteran’s heart info marble. Their valor } Springs not from recklessness from habit, from indifference to the preservation of a life knit by no pledyes to the life of } hers; but in the strength and spirit of the cause alone, they act, they contend, they bleed. In this they conquer. The people always conquer. They always must conquer. "Armies may be defeated, kings may be overthrown, and new Ee dynasties imposed, by foreign arms, on an ignorant and slay } ‘sh race, that cares not in what language the covenant of ‘their subjection runs, nor in whose name the deed of their /Yarter and sale is made out. But the people never invade ; 1 ; &nd, when they rise against the invader, are never subdued they are driven from the plains, they fly to the mountains. Steep rocks and everlasting hills are their castles; tue tangled, } Pathless thicket their palisado; and nature, God, is their ally |. Now He overwhelms the hosts of their enemies beneath bis } tifting mountains of sand; now He buries them beneath a } ‘alling atmosphere of polar snows; He lets loose his tem ‘Pests on their fleets; Ile puis a folly into their counsels, 6 _ } Madness into the hearts of their leaders; He never gave, ani. Reyer will give, a final triumph over a virtuous and gunn } People, resolved to be free. “ Ror Freedom’s battle once begun, Beqneathed from bleeding sire to sen Though baffied oft, is ever wou.” «THE STANLAty SPHAKER, © _ MUSIC OF LABOR. — Anon Tue banging cf the hammer, The whirling of the plane, Yhe crashing of the busy saw The creaking of the crane, The ringing of the anvil, The grating of the drill, The clattering of the turning-lathe. The whirling of tne mill, The buzzing of the spindle, The rattling of the loom, The puffingeof the engine, “The fan’s continual boom, The clipping of the tailor’s shears The driving of the awl— These sounds of industry J love—I love them all. The clinking of the magic type _ The earnest talk of men, Tie toiling of the giant press, _ The scratching of the pen, The tapping of the yard-stick, The tinkling of the scales, The whistling of the needle, (When no bright cheek it palea: — The humming of the cooking-stove The surging of the broom, The pattering feet of childhood, The housewife’s busy hum, The buzzing of the scholars, The teacher's kindly call— These sounds of active industry I love—I love them all I love the plowman’s whistle, The reaper’s cheerful song, THK STANDARD SPEAKER — The bustling of the market-man, As he hies him to the town, The hallo from the tree-top, As the ripened fruit comes down, The busy sound of threshers, As they clean the ripened grain, The husker’s joke an catch of glee, "Neath the moonlight on the plain, _ The kind voice of the dairyman, The shepherd’s gentle call— These sounds of pleasant industry I love—I love them all. PRUSSLAL AND AUSTRIA.—Harver's Woekly Prussia was a robber, Austria was a thief, Prussia and Austria Stole a Danish fief. Prussia said to Austria, “Leave the swag alone,” Austria said to Prussia, “When you drop your bone.” Prussia said to Austria, “You don’t mean to go?” Austria said to Prussia, * Out of Holstein ?—no.” — Prussia said to Austria, _“ Wherefore do you arm Austria said to Prussia, “Of you in alarm.” Basak Prussia said to Austria, TT don’ t mean to mz ‘eTaNvAKD st ‘BAKER, Piiscis said to Anetta — * Drop your warlike gama” Austria said to Prussia, — “When you do the same.” Prussia said to Austria, “ What's the end to be ?” Austria said to Prussia, “ Hit me and you'll see.” Prussia said to Austria, “Come, this brag won't do Austria said to Prussia, “Sir, the same to you.” Prussia said to Austria, “Pl the Diet try.” Austria said to Prussia, “Thank you, so will _. WISHING.—John G. Saxe. Oy all the amusements of the min¢ From logic down to fishing, There is not one that you can find, So very cheap as “ wishing ;” A yery choice diversion, too, If we but rightly use it, And nct, as we are apt to do, Pervert it and abuse it, I wish-—a common wish indeed— My purse was something fatter, That I might cheer the child of nead, And not my pride to flatter ; Phat I might make oppression reel, THE 8TaNDARD SPEAKER. — 1 wish—that sympathy and love, And every human passion, That has its origin above, : Would come and keep in fashion ; ‘That scorn, and jealousy, and hate, And every base emotion, Were buried fifty fathoms deep Beneath the waves of ocean | I wish—that friends were always true, And motives always pure; I wish the good were not so few, { wish the bad were fewer ; I wish that persons ne’er forgot: To heed their pious teaching ; I wish that practicing was not So differeut from preaching.. I wish—that modest worth might be _ Appraised with truth and candor ; { wish that innocence were free From treachery and slander ; I wish that men their vows would miid, . That women ne’er were rovers ; I wish that wives were always kind, And busbands always lovers. T wish—in fine—that joy and mirth _ And every good ideal, Biay come erewhile throughout the earth To be the glorious real ; Till God shall every creature bless — _ With His supremest blessing, And hope be lost in happiness, ° And wishing be possession, THE STANDARD SPEAKER, THE BLARNEY STONE.—Anon. I. iy Blarney Castle, on a crumbling tower, There lies a stone (aboye your ready reach), Which to th» lips impart, 'tis said, the power Of facile falsehood, and persuasive speech ; And hence, of one who talks in such a tone, The peasants say, He’s kissed the Blarney Stone.” it; Thus, when I see some flippant tourist swel. With secrets wrested from an Emperor— And hear him yaunt his bravery and tell How once he snubbed a Marquis—t infer The man came back, if but the truth were known, By way of Cork, and kissed the Blarney Stone |! ul. 80 when I hear a shallow dandy boast (In the long ear that marks a brother dunce), What precious favors ladies’ lips have lost, To his advantage ; I suspect at once, The fellow’s lying : that the dog alone (Enough for him !) has kissed the Blarney Stone | Iv. When some fine lady—ready to defame An absent beauty, with ax sweet a grace—- With seeming rapture grects a hated name, And lauds her rival to her wondering face, Hen Charity herself must own Some Women, too, have kissed the Blarney Stone | v. : When sleek attorneys, whose seductive tongues, Smooth with the unction of a golden fee, “ Breathe forth huge falsehoods from capacious lungs (The words are Juvenal’s), 'tis plain to see A lawyer’s genius isn’t all his own, The specicus rogue has kissed the Blarney Stone! ey THE STANDARD SPRAKER. ‘VI. Wheu the false pastor from his fainting flock Withholds the Bread of Life—-the Gospel news, To give them dainty words, lest he should shock The fragile fabric of the paying pews— Who but must feel the man to grace unknown? He kissed—not Calvary—bout the Blarney Stone THE STUDENT OF BONN —Anon. Mein Herr Yon Schrinn was tall and thin, His micn was grave and wise, ‘And a pair ‘<° great green spectacles He wore to shade his eyes. His lungs weren't strong, his hair was long, He had a brain of. brains ; But to one sort of learning this scholer discerning Devoted all his paina, ; And spent all his time upon—_ Which was beer, beer, beer, So sparkling, bright and clear, Oh, this young metaphysical, quizzical phthisic.i, Bibulous student of Bonn. : A gallon a day he held child’s p.ay, A barrel not too big - For a very capacious throat had he, And dearly loved to swig. But by my troth, though Iam loth, From truth I must not shrink, His pastors and masters predicted disasters For one so given to drink. é — But he said to cera all ” ae Said this young metaphysi a student of THE STANDARD SPEAKER. Alas! at last his health broke fast, They called the doctors in, And they prescribed cold-water cures, And siops both thick and thin. But he shook his head, and faintly said, “T can’t take water neat ; Yet tonic drops, with malt and hops Decocted, were a treat. Without it, I can’t get on. I swallow nought but beer, So foaming, bright and clear,” Said this young metaphysical, quizzical, phthisical, Bibulous student of Bonn. But every one, that it mustn’t be done, Protested loud and long ; And he couldn’t bribe the faithful nurse To do a thing so wrong. And day after day he faded away ; And these—if you would ask— Were the last words he was heard to say, “Oh, pray don’t shake the cask,” And, thus reflecting upon His beer, beer, beer, He quitted this mortal sphere, Did this young metaphysical, quizzical, phthisical, Bibulous student of Bonn. A BROKEN HOUSEHOLD —Anon. (> al! dreary heart-aches; of all desolaté heart-sicks; a } ‘« eacth’s most dejected,wretched woes, comes there any thing } ® ‘ompare to the returning inmates of a broken household -— ne knowing that one has just been borne away who will ney.r, while their house lasts, cross its threshold again? A J belo yed husband or wife, father, mother, or child! O God 7 Eve. while the inanimate form was with them they could not ]_ comp.ehend their loss. They might still look upon the casket, | THE STANDARD SPEAKER. 1 aud that with the awaking day their idol might open its eyes upon them. Alas! that day when the coffin enshrined with a its gloomy shadow its form; when the pall-bearers had borne it over its threshold; when the somber hearse was taking it from its home; when the cold earth had dropped: upon ing coffin-lid; when the green sod had been placed upon its grave » ~~then, oh! then they realize their loss! Nevermore to hex* ' he voice of their loved on earth; nevermore to clasp ths tand that was wont to return the pressure with such warmth _ hevermore to look into the eyes that were so dear to them B Pe:haps it was the head of that household that has just been laid in his last resting-place. The father f£ 4 family; the husband of that frail, aged woman who looked up to him ae her only stay and support—who had hoped to have leaned upon his stronger arm while passing over the r.ugh path that was leading down the hill of hei life. Oh! what an agonized heart; on! what a desolate home is hers! She looks at his vacant chair, but where is he who was wont to sit in it through the long, pleasant evenings, with the Bible on his knee and the loving words of cheer upon his lips? She looks at the slippers that lay by its side, but where is he that once wore them? Tossing them off and on in glee as he dandled the children— is children—the little boy, tlhe youngest, the pride, the name- Sake of its father—the one he had formed suck bright hopes for in the future, of how he would lead him in the path of honor; of bow he would use all a father’s gentle control te ' make a great and good man of his only sun—these were hié Anticipations and it was the sight of him—his little boy— | that had caused the great struggle between tue dying man and his stern, unrelenting master Death ; and it is the sight of bir. that has caused the hot tears to gush from the dry and aching éyes of his mother. She longed to be laid at rest by the sias of her dead—but she must live for the sake of her living. Ak, weep, poor breaking heart! Those tears will wash | away the harsh doubts that are rising against the justness of that all-wise Being who so suddenly saw fit to place this heavy - cross upon the bending shoulders. Weep! Those tears will be quenched in prayer. It is only in the darkest hour of a true Christian’s life that God seems the nearest friend to fly Ww, aud the wild, surging, pitiful petition that rises ta His throne te THE SPANDARD SPEAKER, is never unheeded. And ar. angel will come down with dew: drops of peace shining all over his beautiful wings, and the sad petitioner will rise. feeling beneath the soothing calm of a J holy resignation to His divine will, and will be enabled to say, © “Thy will, O Lord, not mine, be done.” + hem em THE BIBLE.—Rev. Robert Collyer. I woR one, love the Bible supremely. In all the world 1 | . have found no book to set beside it. Other books I love well. © Milton, Tayior, Carlyle, Tennyson, Emerson, Spencer, and ~ F many ® noble name besides in this great brotherhvod is so dear to me that there are few sacrifices I would not gladly make | rather than lose their companionship. But when I amin any great-strait—wher I want to find words other than my own to rebuke some crying sin, to stay some desperate sinnen, to whisper to the soul at the parting of worlds, to read, as I sit 7 with them that weep beside their dust, words that I know will zo to the right place as surely as corn dropped into good soil 7 ou a gleaming May day—then I put aside all books but one— J the book out of which my mother read to me, and over which - she sung to me, as far back as Ican remember.’ And it is like | those springs that never give out in the dryest, and never freeze in the hardest weather, because they reach so directly into the # ‘great warm fountains hidden under the surface—it never fails me. But have we not al. noticed the curious fact that men go to ‘be Bible for what they want to find, rather than for what } — shey ought to find? That those who profess the most absole't wabmission to its authority offer generally the finest possiblt Nusttation of the supremacy of the soul oyer the Bible in the } - way they contrive to make it serve their turn? and that it is 7 by no means impossible to find duplicates of the good Scotch- woman’s minister, of whom she said, “If there’s a cross text in the Bible, he is sure to find it and take it for a sermon!’ 7 The truth is, the Bible is like a great pasture, into which you | E tuum all manner of feeders, The horse takes what he wants, | 0 does the cow; the sheep is true to its instinct, eo is the | THE STANDARD SPEAKER. | goat. And then, last of all, the ass rolls the thistle, like a aweet morsel, under his tongue. So, when a man with a large, ‘bweet nature, comes to the Bible, he crops, by a sure instinet, all the large, sweet passages. The hopeful man find the hope- ful things; the sad man, the sorrowful things; the hard mas the gritty thing3, and every man the things that satisfy iis _ faving, though they may in no way make for him peace THE PURSE AND THE SWORD.—John 0. Calhoun. THERE was a time, in the better days of the Republic, when to show what ought to be done, was to insure the adoption of the measure. Those days have passed away, I fear, for ever. A power has risen up in the Government gieater than the people themselves, consisting of many, and various, and owerful interests, combined into one mass, and. held tegether by the cohesive power of the vast surplus iu the banks. This mighty combination will be opposed to any change; and it is to be feared that, such is its influence, no measure to which it is opposed can become a law, however expedient and ne- cessary ; and that the public money will remain in their pos- session, to be disposed of, not as the public interest, but as theirs, may dictate. The time, indeed, seems fast approach- ' ing, when no law can pass, nor any honor can be conferred, ' from the Chief Magistrate to the tide-waiter, wivhont the ag- seut of this powerful and interested combination, wuiek is ' steadily becoming the Government itself, to the utter subyer- ston of the authority of the People. Nay, I fear we are ir he midst of it; and I look with anxiety to the fate of thw neasure, as the test whether we are or not. If nothing should be done—if the money which justly. be longs to the People should be left wiiere it is, with the muny and overwhelming objections to it—the fact will prove that & great and radical change has been effected; that the Gov- ernment is subverted; that the authority of the People is suppressed by a union of the banks and the Hxecutive—a | union a hundred times more dangerous than that of Church sod State, against which the Constitution has so jealously THE STANDARD SPEAKER, guareed. It would be the announcement of a state of things J from wuith, it is to be feared, there can be no recoyery—4A © E stave 01 houndless corruption, and the lowest and basest sub f serviency. It seems to be the order of Providence that, with the excrption of these, a jecople may recover from any othet evil. Furacy, robbery, and violence of every description may s6 Listory proves, be succeeded by virtue, patriotism, and na a.nal greatness; but where’is the example to be found of ¢7 fegenerate, corrupt, and subservient people, who have ey 1" : egvovered cheir virtue and patriotism? Their doom has evetqe peen the lowest state of wrelchedncss and misery: trodden down, and obliterated from the list of uations ! Heaven grant that such may never be our doom! MY COUNTRY.—dHugh 8S. Legare. Sim, I dare not trust myself to speak of my country with | c the rapture which I habitually feel when I contemplate het marvelous history. But this I will say—that, on my return to it, ufter an absence of only four ,years, I was filled with wonder at all I saw and all I heard. What is to be compared F with it? {found New York grown up to almost double it | former size, with the air of a great capital, instead of a meré flourishing commercial town, as I had known it. I listened to acceants of voyages of a thousand miles in magnificent) steamboats on the waters of those great lakes, which, but the} other day, I left sleeping in the primeval silence of nature, in } che reeesses of a vast wilderness; and I felt that there is # } _ grandeur and a majesty in this irresistible onward march of Fy . ‘ace, created, as I believe, and elected, to possess and peop!* 7 & vonunent, which belong to few other objects, either of the 7 mura! or material world. - We may become so much accustomed to such things thal F they shall make as little impression upon our minds as thé 7. glorivs of the heavens above us; but, looking on them, lately, 7 as with the eye of the stranger, I felt, what a recent English | traveler is said to have remarked, that, far from being withow | peeeys, ag some have vainly alleged, our whole country is om | THE STANDARD SPEAKER. 81 | great pova. Sir, it is so; and if there be a maa that can _ think of what is doing, in all parts of this most blessed of ' all lands, to embellish and advance it—who can conte nplate » that living mass of intelligence, activity and improven.ent, as tt rolls on, in its sure and steady progress, to the uttermost _ €xtremities of the West—who can see scenes of savage deso ‘tation traasformed, almost with the suddenness of enchant ' Ment, into those of: fruitfulness and beauty, crowned wits ' fourishing cities, filled with the noblest of all populations-- » if there be a man, I say, that can witness all this, passing | Onder his very eyes, without feeling his heart beat high, sad 7} his imagination warmed and transported by it, be sure, sir, } ‘that the raptures of song exist not for him; he would: listen 7} {n vain to Tasso or Camoéns, telling a tale of the wars of the } knights and crusaders, or of the discovery and conquest of ‘} A¬ker hemisphere. TRUE MORAL COURAGE.—Henry Clay. | ‘were isa sort of courage, which, I frankly confess it, I do not possess—a boldness to which I dare not aspire,a valor which I can not covet. I can not lay myself down in the | Way of the welfare and happiness of my country. That, I ' Can not—I have not the courage to do. I can not interpose 7} ‘the power with which I may be inyested—a power conferred, {} not for my personal benefit, nor for my aggrandizement, but } for my country’s good—to check her onward march to ggeat- o } Yess and glory. I have not courage enough. I am too cow | ardly for that. I would not, I dare not, in the exercise } such a threat, lie down, and place my body across the pat) } that leads my country to prosperity and happiness. This i . ‘} * sort of courage widely different from ‘hat which a man may | display in his private conduct and personal relations. ' Per Sonal or private courage is totally distinct from that, higher | - &nd nobler courage which prompts the patriot to offer himself _ § voluntary sacrifice to his country’s good. _ Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness ®.netimes impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acta Li.w the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of 7, THE STANDARD SPEAKER, the want A courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, 30 unaml as able and offensive in private life, are vices which partake of 7 the character of crimes in the conduct ‘of public affairs, The ¥ unfortunate victim of these passions can not see beyond the 7 little, petty, contemptible circle of his own personal interests. | All his thoughts are withdrawn from his country, and concen: trated on his consistency, his firmness, himself! The high | fhe exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism which, soak ing toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfisa things, and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought of 7 the good and the glory of one’s country, are never felt in his © impenetrable bosom. That patriotism which, catching its inspi- ration of the immortal God, and, leaving at an immeasurable distance below all lesser, groveling, personal interests and feel- ings, animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, 7 of devotion, and of death itself—that is public virtuc; that 9 is the noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues ! WHAT I8 WAR?—Horace Binney. Wnar are sufficient causes of war, let no man zy, let no | legislator say, until the question of war is directly aud inevi- | tably before him. Jurists may be permitted, with compara- ‘tive safety, to pile tome “non tome of interminable disquisi- tion upon the motives, reasons and causes of just ucd unjust J} war; metaphysicians may be suffered with impunity to spin the thread of their speculations until! it is attenuatea to a cod web; but, for a body created for the government of a great: aation, and for the adjustment and protection of its infinitely liversified interests, it is worse than folly to speculate npog .be causes of war, until the great question shall be presented J ‘lor immediate action—until they shall hold the united ques 7 tion: of cause, motive and present expediency in the very palm |} “of their hands. War is a tremer¢ous evil. Come when if | will, unless it shall come in the necessary defense of our na- | fiona. security, or of that honor under whose protection na- | donal security reposes, it wil come too soon ;—too soon for onr national prosperity ; tuo soun for our individual happiners saat THE STANDARD SPEAKER. ‘00 soon for ‘the fragal, industrious and virtuous habits f our citizens; too soon, perhaps, for our most precious in titutions, The man who, for any. cause, save the sacred -tause of public security, which makes all wars defensive—the ‘nan who, for any cause but this, shall promote or compel! this §val and terrible resort, assumes a responsibility secon’, ‘pane—nay, transcendently deeper and higher than any’: © Poy #an can assume before his fellow-men, or in the pre #a@;'é 0a, his Creator. BUTTER.—