are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! Gentlemen It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. may cry "Peace! peace!" but there is no peace. war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? what would they have? Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty or give me death! I am afraid of nothing on the earth or above the earth or under the earth, but to do wrong. The path of duty I shall endeavor to travel, fearing no evil and dreading no consequences. I would rather be defeated in a good cause than to triumph in a bad one. I would not give a fig for a man who would shrink from the discharge of duty for fear of defeat.-A. H. STEPHENS THE RISING IN 1776 BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ Read was an American poet and painter. He was born in Pennsylvania in 1822 and died in 1872. "The Closing Scene" and others of his shorter poems have been very popular. Out of the North the wild news came, And there was tumult in the air, The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, Within its shade of elm and oak The church of Berkley Manor stood; And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet, with loitering tread, Passed 'mid the graves where rank is naught; All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead. How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, Decked in their homespun flax and wool! Where youths' gay hats with blossoms bloom, And every maid, with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume ; While every garment's gentle stir Is breathing rose and lavender. The pastor came: his snowy locks. Hallowed his brow of thought and care ; Then soon he rose ; the prayer was strong; The text, a few short words of might; Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; A moment there was awful pause His holiest places then are ours, And now before the open door — The warrior priest had ordered so- So loud and clear, it seemed the ear While overhead, with wild increase, The great bell swung as ne'er before. From off its jubilant iron tongue "Who dares" this was the patriot's cry, A hundred voices answered "I!" What is it to be a gentleman? It is to be honest, to be gentle, to be generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these qualities, to exercise them in the most graceful outward manner. -THACKERAY STOPPED PAYMENT BY ELIZABETH C. GASKELL Mrs. Gaskell was an English novelist. She was born in 1810 and died in 1865. This selection is from "Cranford," a charming tale of village life, which is a favorite with readers young and old. I We began to talk of Miss Matty's new silk gown. I discovered that it would be really the first time in her |