Public Speaking

thing, and liberty, the most crying abuse of all. But he came, and for the tribune he has substituted the Senate; for the press, the censorship; for thought, imbeci

t his business to be so; this wretched France is in the straitjacket, and if she stirs-Ah, what is this spectacle before our eyes? Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? On one side a nation, the first of nations, and on the other, a man, the last of men; and this is what this man does to this nation. What! he tramples her under his feet, he laughs in her face, he mocks and taunts her, he disowns, insults, and flouts her! What! he says, "I alone am worthy of consider

G THE

HE DOGE

play, "

RUSSEL

r Of the old prediction that was

old pre

enty years ago

yesterday-be

n my hand, id

up of gay and

unmatched in

ver-we were

nta then; it

vigorous breez

tly, till the

han the falcon

her prey. I s

vant hurrying,

ize of a beetle

sent to summon

ters, my old

ad the whole w

rous kite. It

bending back

small point, c

and half envyi

a companion

ide me a deep

t! mount!-I star

ged woman, o

le whom wild

every land. She

ed her black ey

: Aye, like his

oge of Venic

nder any on

isapp

st thou never see

ever saw

RE

ical Works," publishe

ny, B

ED LORD

fight or s

ichard, te

ght is bu

of us left by the t

id again: "We be a

gs of Seville, the c

ed my back upon

he laughed, and we r

ran on sheer into t

hters on deck, and h

t to the right and hal

ge ran on thro' the

eat San Philip hung

thunderbo

and

lleons

panish fle

rboard and two upon

-thunder broke

and the stars came out,

sed the fight of the o

ole night long, their h

hole night long, with

am

ole night long, drew ba

am

many were shatter'd, a

o

ver a battle like thi

: "Fight on

sel was all

when half of the su

d to be dressed, h

him that was dress

wounded again, in t

: "Fight on

n, and the sun smiled

e

with broken sides lay

h us again, for they fe

in

hed what the

not fought

ilous plig

f our poor hun

e rest of us m

e cannonades and t

in the hold were most

broken and bent, and

en

the rigging were l

d cried in his

such a fight for

ver be fo

n great gl

ay less

a or

es it mat

ster Gunner-sink her

of God, not into t

ION O

ress, with the permissi

owner of the Ingerso

RT G. I

en they enlist in the great army of freedom. We see them part with those they love. Some are walking for the last time in quiet, woody places with the maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing babes that are asleep. Some are receiving the blessings of old men. Some are parting with mothers who hold them and press them to their hearts again and ag

rand, wild music of war,-marching down the streets of the great cities, through the towns a

f the futu

py homes, with firesides of conte

ed and kings are dust. The aristocracy

e been enslaved. Lightning and light, wind and wave, frost and flame, and all the

o prisoner mourns; a world on which the gibbet's shadow does not fall; a world where labor reaps its full reward, where work and worth go hand in hand, where the poor girl tryin

the miser's heartless, stony stare, the piteous wail o

ny of form and function,-and, as I look, life lengthens, joy deepens, love canopies

NEAR JE

he Century Magazine,

Century Company

IN KNAP

art. Unless the sky is held in the relentless grip of a winter storm, the Orient holds no gray in its evening tones; these are translucent and glowing from the setting of the sun until the stars appear. In Greece we are dreamers in that subtle atmosphere, and in Egyp

of color spread over the whole breadth of country, from the ground at one's feet to the distant purple hilltops of Bethlehem. The fluid air seems to swim, as if laden with inc

alf-light; the gray road trails outside; and beyond rise the walls, sere

h rose into the ambient air. The sable dome of the Holy Sepulcher yields a

y are lost, so delicately tender is the mass of bu

such speed did they move that they seemed suddenly to leap from the horizon, and the vast dome of the heaven became filled with weird, flying monsters racing overhead. The violence of the wind tore the blue into fragments, so that what only a moment si

h a whirlwind of scarlet and gold and crimson, of violet and blue and emerald, flecked with copper and bronze and

held a similar s

od, thou ar

hed with hono

self with light

out the heavens

ams of his chambe

the clouds

pon the wings

winds his

ters a fl

RN IN

New England Society of

E WITT

s the triumphal arch for the returning warriors to pass under. From Arlington Heights the spring foliage shook out its welcome, as the hosts came over the hills, and the sparkling waters of the Potomac tossed their gold to the feet of the battalions as they came to the Long Bridge and in almost interminable line passed over. The Capitol never seemed so majestic as on that morning: snowy white, looking down upon the tides of men that came surging down, billow after billow. Passing in silence, yet I heard in every step the thunder of

crying "Huzza! Huzza!" Gleaming muskets, thundering parks of artillery, rumbling pontoon wagons, ambulances from whose wheels seemed to sound out the groans of the crushed and the dying that they had carried. These men came from balmy Minnesota, those from Illinois prairies. These were often hummed to sleep by the pines

r bayonets, caught in the sun, glimmered and flashed and blazed, till they seemed like one long river of silver, ever and anon changed into a river of fire. No end of the procession, no rest for the eyes. We turned our heads from the scene, unable longer to look. We felt disposed to stop our ears, but still we heard it, marching

RN IN

with the permission of

NRY W

f his fidelity and faith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of him, as ragged, half-starved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled by want and wounds, having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow and painful journey. What does he find?-let me ask you who went to your homes eager to find, in the welcome you had justly earned, full payment for four years' sacrifice-what does he find when, having followed the battle-stained cross against overwhelmi

hed before the plow, and the fields that ran red with human blood in April were green with the harvest in June; women reared in luxury cut up their dresses and made breeches for their husbands, and, with a patience and heroism that fit women always as a garment, gave their hands to work. There was little bitterness in all this. Cheerfulness and frankness prevailed.

y the free negro counts more than he did as a slave. We have planted the schoolhouse on the hilltop and made it

a fuller independence for the South than that which our fathers sought to

SION B

FOREFAT

New England Society of

E WITT

er whose sermon was a patchwork from a variety of authors, to whom he gave no credit. There was an intoxicated wag in the audience who had read about everything, and he announced the authors as the minister went on. The clergyman gave an extract without any credit to the author, and the man in the audience cried out: "That's Jeremy Taylor." The speaker went on and ga

ded in the morning of December the 21st, but about noon that day a pack of hungry wolves swept down the bleak American beach looking for a New England dinner and a band of savages out for a tomahawk picnic hove in sight, and the Pilgrim Fathers thought it best for safety and warmth to go on board the Mayflower and pass the night. And during the night there cam

tice to such a subject; and I only wish I could have kissed the blarney stone of America, which is Plymouth Rock, so that I might have done justice

remothers. As I understand it, there were eight of them-that is, four father

t is that?" "I don't know, sir." "That's A" (with a slap). "What is that?" "I don't know, sir." (With a slap)-"That is B." I tell you, a boy that learned his letters in that way

believed in two great doctrines, which are the foundation of every religion that is worth anything: namely, the fatherhood of G

AGAINS

Julius

IAM SHA

irtue to be i

do know your

s the subject

l what you a

life; but, for

ef not be a

uch a thing

ree as C?sar

fed as well;

nter's cold a

pon a raw a

iber chafing w

me, "Dar'st th

me into thi

onder point?"

s I was, I

follow: so, i

oar'd, and we

inews, throw

t with hearts

ld arrive the

Help me, Cassi

s, our grea

ames of Troy up

bear, so from t

ired C?sar.

me a god; a

ature, and mus

relessly bu

er when he w

fit was on h

: 'tis true, thi

ps did from t

e, whose bend do

uster: I did h

gue of his, that

ite his speeches

"Give me some

l. Ye gods, i

h a feeble t

art of the ma

the pal