Five years at school the students spent; John learned to play the flute and fiddle, Meanwhile, at home their brother Fred Until at last his father said He was getting "book larnin'" into his head; The war broke out, and Captain Fred Now, common sense was very rare, THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. Somewhat back from the village street Across its antique portico Tall poplar trees their shadows throw, An ancient timepiece says to all,→→ "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Half-way up the stairs it stands, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, With sorrowful voice to all who pass, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" By day its voice is low and light; Never--forever!" Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" In that mansion used to be Free-hearted Hospitality; His great fires up the chimney roared; The stranger feasted at his board; But like the skeleton at the feast, That warning timepiece never ceased, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" There groups of merry children played, Even as a miser counts his gold, Those hours the ancient timepiece told,"Forever-never! Never-forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" All are scattered now and fled, Never-forever!" Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain and care, Forever there, but never here! "Forever-never! Never-forever!" HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. AMERICAN LABORERS. The gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tendency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of Northern character. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern laborers! Who are the Northern laborers? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on every page. Blot from your annals the words and the doings of Northern laborers and the history of your country presents but a universal blank. Sir, who was he that disarmed the thunderer; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove; calmed the troubled ocean; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilized word-whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor, who participated in the achievement of your independence, prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of "recorded time"? Who, sir, I ask, was he? A Northern laborer, a Yankee tallow-chandler's son-a printer's runaway boy! And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was he that, in the days of our Revolution, led forth a Northern army-yes, an army of Northern laborers—and aided the chivalry of South Carolina in their defense against British aggression, drove the spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign invaders? Who was he? A Northern laborer, a Rhode Island blacksmith-the gallant General Greene-who left his hammer and his forge and went forth conquering and to conquer in the battle for our independence! And will you preach insurrection to men like these? Sir, our country is full of the achievements of Northern laborers. Where are Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the North? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names of those hallowed spots, but the blood and the struggles, the high daring and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern laborers? The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence and indomitable independence of Northern laborers! Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these! The fortitude of the men of the North, under intense suffering |