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Egypt, but no chiselled stone has ever stirred me to such emotion as these rustic names of men who fell

In the Sacred Cause of God and their Country.

Gentlemen, the Spirit of Liberty, the Love of Justice, was early fanned into a flame in my boyish heart. That monument covers the bones of my own kinsfolks ; it was their blood which reddened the long, green grass at Lexington. It was my own name which stands chiselled on that stone; the tall Captain who marshalled his fellow farmers and mechanics into stern array, and spoke such brave and dangerous words as opened the war of American Independence,

the last to leave the field, was my father's father. I learned to read out of his Bible, and with a musket he that day captured from the foe I learned also another religious lesson, that

Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God.I keep them both, “Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Mankind,” to use them both, “ In the Sacred Cause of God and my country.

Gentlemen of the jury, and you, my fellow-country. men of the North, I leave the matter with you. Say, "Guilty !" You cannot do it. "Not Guilty !” I know you will, for you remember there is another court, not of fugitive-slave-bill law, where we shall all be tried by the justice of the Infinite God. Hearken to the last verdict : Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

The above is an extract from Theodore Parker's Defence for the “misdemeanor of a speech in Faneuil Hall, against kidnapping." The case did not come to trial, being thrown out on account of some legal informality. The Defence was published, but not delivered in







S the processes which seem to threaten the disso

lution of matter produce crystals, so the severest scourges which fall upon man develop the very highest types of humanity. Out of the masses of dead and dying, angels rise and hover above the gloom and anguish, and men view the beautiful image of the very perfection of their race.

Mattie Stephenson was a young girl of Towanda, Illinois. She was obscure, and never had a thouglıt of hurrying through life to a monument. She heard of the scourge of pestilence in Memphis ; and, selfforgetting, she resolved to hasten to the relief of suffering, and stand a faithful friend at the couch of dcath. She went, unheralded and unobserved, into the stricken city, offered her services to the Howard Association, and was accepted. What she did will never all be known. In the death-chamber, often but two were present, — the young girl and the sufferer, — and their lips are sealed forever. It is simply known that Mattie Stephenson was good and brave, and freely offered up her own young life for her fellowcreatures. Hers was a holy mission ; and she performed her full work.

Did her father or mother in Towanda weep for her ? Did a brother or sister tremble at the thought that their dear one was in the ranks where the shafts were flying thick and deadly? She herself was stricken and fell. Her memory is dear to Memphis, and her shrine is sacred as that of a saint. Her life was

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crystallized in a few short days of duty; and a monument by loving hands will rise above her ashes.

To such a heart there are no strangers, for it was the friend of all. Before the body of the young girl had been laid away, to rest in Elmwood, a wealthy merchant suggested a fitting monument to commemorate the most beautiful of lives and highest of virtues. The Howard Association immediately resolved, That in honor of her memory, in justice to themselves, and as an example to the race, a suitable monument be erected to mark the spot where she sleeps ; and that her epitaph shall tell the sublime and beautiful story of one who laid down her own life that others might live.

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VIIE midnight hour was drawing on;

Flushed in repose lay Babylon ;
But in the palace of the king
The herd of courtiers shout and sing :
There, in his royal banquet hall,
Belshazzar holds high festival.

The servants sit in glittering rows,
The beakers are drained, the red wine flows;
The beakers clash, and the servants sing,
A pleasing sound to the moody king.
The king's cheeks flush, and his wild eyes shine,
IIis spirit waxes bold with wine ;
Until, by maddening passion stung,
He scoffs at God with impious tongue ;
And his proud heart swells as he wildly raves,

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Mid shouts of applause from his fawning slaves.
He spoke the word, and his eyes flashed flame!
The ready servants went and came ;
Vessels of massive gold they bore,
Of Jehovah's temple the plundered store.

Then seizing a consecrated cup,
The king in his fury fills it up;
He fills, and hastily drains it dry;
From his foaming lips leaps forth the cry,

Jehovah ! at Thee my scorn I fling!
I am Belshazzar, Babylon's king."
Yet scarce had the impious words been said,
When the king's heart shrank with secret dread :
Suddenly died the shout and yell,
A death-like hush on the tumult fell.

And see! and see ! on the white wall high,
The form of a hand went slowly by,
And wrote and wrote in sight of all
Letters of fire upon the wall !
The king sat still with a stony look ;
His trembling knees with terror shook ;
The menial throng nor spoke nor stirred;
Fear froze their blood, no sound was heard.

The magicians came, but none of all
Could read the writing on the wall.
At length to solve those words of flame,
Fearless, but meek, the prophet came;
One glance he gave, and all was clear !

King! there is reason in thy fear;
Those words proclaim, thy empire ends,
The day of woe and wrath impends ;

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Weighed in the balance, wanting found,
Thou and thy empire strike the ground !

That night, by the servants of his train,
Belshazzar, the mighty king, was slain !.

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WHE scene opens on a clear, crisp morning. Two

boys are running to get on the back of a carriage, whose wheels are spinning along the road. One of the boys, with a quick spring, succeeds. The other leaps, but fails, and falls on the part of the body where it is most appropriate to fall. No sooner has · he struck the ground than he shouts to the driver of the carriage, • Cut behind ! "

Human nature is the same in boy as in man :- all running to gain the vehicle of success.

Sume are spry, and gain that for which they strive. Others are slow, and tumble down; they who fall crying out against those who mount, “Cut behind !!!

A political office rolls past. A multitude spring to their feet, and the race is in. Only one of all the number reaches that for which he runs. No sooner does he gain the prize, and begin to wipe the sweat from his brow, and think how grand a thing it is to ride in popular preferment, than the disappointed candidates cry out, “ Incompetency! Stupidity! Fraud ! Now let the newspapers of the other political party 'cut behind.'”

There is a golden chariot of wealth rolling down the street. A thousand people are trying to catch it.

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