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sarily deficient in accompaniments which paintings cannot supply, and are therefore feeble and ineffective.

9. You have, upon canvas, the ship and the sea, but, as they come from the hands of the artist, so they remain. The universal motion of both is thus arrested and made stationary. There is no subject in which the pencil of the painter acknowledges more its indebtedness to the imagination than in its attempts to delineate' the sea storm.

10. It was not the least remarkable, and by far the most comfortable circumstance in this combination of all that is grand and terrible, that, furious as were the winds, towering and threatening as were the billows, our glorious bark preserved her equilibrium 8 against the fury of the one, and her buoyancy in despite of the alternate precipice and avalanche of the other. True it is, she was made to whistle through her cordage, to creak and moan through all her timbers, even to her masts. True it is, she was made to plunge and rear, to tremble and reel and stagger. Still, she continued to scale the watery mountain, and ride on its very summit, until, as it rolled onward from beneath her, she descended gently on her pathway, ready to triumph again and again over each succeeding wave.

11. At such a moment it was a matter of profound deliberation which most to admire, the majesty of God in the winds and waves, or his goodness and wisdom in enabling his creatures to contend with and overcome the elements even in the fierceness of their anger! To cast one's eye abroad on the scene that surrounded me at this moment, and to think man should have said to himself, “I will build myself an ark in the midst of you, and ye shall not prevent my passage; nay, ye indomitable waves shall bear me up, and ye winds shall waft me onward !” And yet there we were in the fulness of this fearful experiment!

12. I had never believed it possible for a vessel to

encounter such a hurricane without being dashed or torn to pieces, at least in all her masts and rigging; for I am persuaded that had the same tempest passed as furiously over your town, during the same length of time, it would have left scarcely a house standing. The yielding character of the element in which the vessel is launched is the great secret of safety on such occasions. Hence, when gales occur upon the wide ocean, there is little danger; but when they drive you upon breakers on a lee shore”, where the keel "o comes in contact with “ the too solid earth," then it is impossible to escape shipwreck.

13. I never experienced a sensation of fear on the ocean; but this tempest has increased my confidence tenfold, not only in the sea but in the ship. It no longer surprises me that few vessels are lost at sea, for they and their element are made for each other. And the practical conclusion from this experience of a gale is encouraging for all my future navigation. I shall have confidence in my ship now, as I have ever had in the sea. Ever since my eyes first rested on the ocean, I have cherished an instinctive affection for it, as if it were something capable of sympathy and benevolence. When calm, it is to me a slumbering infant. How tranquilly it sleeps!

1 XL'A-BĂS-TER. A white stone used as a vessel, by bringing her head for ornamental purposes.

to the wind. 2 BA-RÖM'E-TER. An instrument used 6 GRĂPH'ỊC. Well described ; vivid.

for measuring the weight or pres- | 7 DE-LİN'E-ATE. Represent by drawsure of the atmosphere, and which ing or by describing, so as to pregives warning of the approach of a sent a picture to the mind. storm by the falling of the mer- | 8 E-QUI-LİB'RỊ-ŮM. Balance of power cury; a weather-glass.

or weight; just poise or balance. 8 HOR'RI-CĀNE höûse. A house on 9 LĒē shore. A shore against which the upper deck.

the wind blows. 4 TRÉP-I-DĀTION. Involuntary trem- 10 KEEL. The principal timber in a

bling ; agitation of mind ; alarm. | vessel, extending from stem .to 6 LĀY TÔ. Had the progress stopped, I stern, at the bottom.




[Edward Everett, a highly distinguished statesman, orator, and scholar, was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, April 11, 1794, and died in Boston, universally honored and lamented, January 15, 1863.

In the autumn of 1837, a delegation of the Sauk and Fox tribes of Indians went to Washington on business connected with their boundary. It was deemed expedient by the United States government that they should visit the cities of the Eastern and Middle States, and Boston was included in their tour. They were received in Boston on the morning of October 30. Mr. Everett was at that time governor of Massachusetts, and in that capacity made them the following speech of welcome, which is a happy imitation of the peculiar style of oratory common to our North American Indians.]

1. CHIEFS and warriors of the united Sauks and Foxes, you are welcome to our hall of council.

2. Brothers, you have come a long way from your home to visit your white brethren; we rejoice to take you by the hand. Brothers, we have heard the names of your chiefs and warriors. Our brethren who have travelled into the West have told us a great deal about the Sauks and Foxes; we rejoice to see you with our own eyes. Brothers, we are called the Massachusetts. This is the name of the red men who once lived here. Their wigwams were scattered on yonder fields, and their council fire was kindled on this spot. They were of the same great race as the Sauks and Foxes.

3. Brothers, when our fathers came over the great water, they were a small band. The red man stood upon the rock by the sea-side, and saw our fathers. He might have pushed them into the water and drowned them. But he stretched out his hand to them, and said, “Welcome, white men.” Our fathers were hungry, and the red man gave them corn and venison'. They were cold, and the red man wrapped them in his blanket. We are now numerous and powerful, but we remember the kindness of the red

ountains ; but thes, and another fare one branch

men to our fathers. Brothers, you are welcome; we are glad to see you !

4. Brothers, our faces are pale, and your faces are dark; but our hearts are alike. The Great Spirit has made his children of different colors, but he loves them all.

5. Brothers, you dwell between the Mississippi and the Missouri. They are mighty rivers. They have one branch far east in the Alleghanies, and another far west in the Rocky Mountains; but they flow together at last into one great stream, and run down into the sea. In like manner, the red man dwells in the west, and the white man in the east, by the great water. But they are all one band, one family. It has many branches, and one Head.

6. Brothers, as you entered our council house, you beheld the image of our great father, Washington.* It is a cold stone; it cannot speak. But he was the friend of the red man, and bade his children live in friendship with their red brethren. He is gone to the world of spirits, but his words have made a very deep print in our hearts, like the step of a strong buffalo on the soft clay of the prairie.

7. Brother, I perceive your little son between your knees. May the Great Spirit preserve his life, my brother. He grows up before you, like the tender sapling by the side of the mighty oak. May they flourish for a long time together; and when the mighty oak is fallen on the ground, may the young tree fill its place in the forest, and spread out its branches over the tribe.

8. Brothers, I make you a short talk, and again bid you welcome to our council hall.

1 VĚN'IŞON (věn'zn). The flesh of edi- | 2 PRĀI'RIE (prā're). An extensive

ble beasts of the chase, but usually tract of land, mostly level, bare of restricted to the flesh of deer. I trees, and covered with grass.

* There is a statue of Washington, by Chantrey, in the State House, in Boston.



(Rev. Frederick W. Robertson, pastor of Trinity Chapel, Brighton, Eng, land, was born in London, February 3, 1816, and died August 15, 1853. He was a clergyman of the Church of England. His writings are distinguished for their poetical beauty of expression, their vividness, and their stirring appeals to the religious element in man.]

1. TIME is the solemn inheritance to which every man is born heir, who has a life-rent of this world, — a little section cut out of eternity, and given us to do our work in; an eternity before, an eternity behind : and the small stream between, floating swiftly from the one into the vast bosom of the other. The man who has felt, with all his soul, the significance of time, will not be long in learning any lesson that this world has to teach him. Have you ever felt it? Have you ever realized how your own little streamlet is gliding away and bearing you along with it towards that awful other world of which all things here are but thin shadows, down into that eternity towards which the confused wreck of all earthly things is bound?

2. Let us realize, that, until that sensation of time, and the infinite meaning which is wrapped up in it, has taken possession of our souls, there is no chance of our ever feeling strongly that it is worse than madness to sleep that time away. Every day in this world has its work; and every day, as it rises out of eternity, keeps putting to each of us the question afresh, What will you do before to day has sunk into eternity and nothingness again?

3. And now what have we to say with respect to this strange, solemn thing — TIME? That men do with it through life just what the apostles did for one precious and irreparable? hour of it in the garden of Gethsemane — they go to sleep! Have you ever seen those marble statues, in some public square or garden, which art has so

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