« PreviousContinue »
will sleep on the floor; and there are potatoes in the field, and clear water in the spring. We need fear nothing, want pothing: blessed be God for all his mercies !”
12. Gilbert went into the sick-room, and got the letter from his wife, who was sitting at the head of the bed, watching, with a heart blessed beyond all bliss, the calm and regular breathings of her child. “This letter,” said he, mildly, “is not from a hard creditor. Come with me, while I read it aloud to our children.” The letter was read aloud, and it was well fitted to diffuse pleasure and satisfaction through the dwelling of poverty. It was from an executor to the will of a distant relative, who had left Gilbert Ainslie fifteen hundred pounds.
13. “This sum,” said Gilbert, “is a large one to folks like us, but not, I hope, large enough to turn our heads, or make us think ourselves all lords and ladies. It will do more, far more than put me fairly above the world at last. I believe that, with it, I may buy this very farm, on which my forefathers have toiled. But God, whose providence has sent this temporal blessing, may he send us wisdom and prudence how to use it, and humble and grateful hearts to us all!”.
14. “You will be able to send me to school all the year round now, father," said the youngest boy. “And you may leave the flail to your sons now, father,” said the eldest. “You may hold the plough still, for you draw a straighter furrow than any of us; but hard work for young sinews; and you may sit now oftener in your arm-chair by the ingle. You will not need to rise now in the dark, cold, and snowy winter mornings, and keep thrashing corn in the barn for hours by candlelight, before the late dawning.
15. There was silence, gladness, and sorrow, and but little sleep, in Moss-Side, between the rising and the setting of the stars, that were now out in thousands, clear, bright, and sparkling over the unclouded sky. Those who had lain down for an hour or two in bed could scarcely be said to have slept; and when, about morning, little Margaret awoke, an altered creature, pale, languid, and unable to turn herself on her lowly bed, but with meaning in her eyes, memory in her mind, affection in her heart, and coolness in all her veins, & happy group were watching the first faint smile that broke over her features; and never did one who stood here forget that Sabbath morning, in which she seemed to look round upon them all witi a gaze of fair and sweet bewilderment, like one half conscious of having been rescued from the power of the grave.
THE PROUD MISS MAC BRIDE.
BY J. G. SAXE.
1. Ou, terribly proud was Miss Mac Bride,
The very personification of Pride,
When the golden sun was setting;
That her stately bosom was fretting. 2. Oh, terribly proud was Miss Mac Bride,
Proud of her beauty, and proud of her pride,
That wouldn't have borne dissection;
On a very slight inspection ! 3. Proud abroad, and proud at home,
Proud wherever she chanced to come,
Proud as the head of a Saracen
Proud beyond comparison !
For Miss Mac Bride first open'd her eye
But pride is a curious passion ;
of rank and fashion !
Her lofty birth to nourish her pride,
According to public rumor;
And he lived “up town," in a splendid square,
that were rich and rare,
And feathers enough to plume her!
Or graced an honest ditty;
In the lower part of the city. 7. A young attorney of winning grace
Was scarce allowed to “open his face,"
With true judicial celerity;
Is merely a double verity.
Was a lively beau of the dapper sort,
A crime by no means flagrant
A ragged fellow "a vagrant.” 9. A courtly fellow was Dapper Jim,
Sleek and supple, and tall and trim,
And, mauger his meager pocket,
say, from the glittering tales he told,
With Fortunatus to rock it!
(I wish the fact could be denied)
And really “nothing shorter!"
-as die he must,
In behalf of his only daughter”
11. And the very magnificent Miss Mac Bride,
Quite graciously relented;
With much disdain, consented! 12. Old John Mac Bride, one fatal day, Became the unresisting prey
Of fortune's undertakers;
Among the brokers and breakers ! 13. At his trade again, in the very shop Where, years before, he let it drop,
He follows his ancient calling,
From a dismal dream of falling.
'Twas such a shock to her precious pride!
Her jaded spirits to rally;
From an avenue down to an alley! 15 And, to make her cup of woe run over, Her elegant, ardent, plighted lover
Was the very first to forsake her;
To quiet the butcher and baker!" 16. And now the unhappy Miss Mac Bride, The merest ghost of her early pride,
Bewails her lonely position;
Was ever a worse condition ?
With insolent pride of station !
Is subject to irritation !
A MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON.
BY R. C. WINTHROP.
1. FELLOW-CITIZENS, let, us seize this occasion to renew to each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the famerican Union; and let us recognise in our common title to the name and the fame of Washington, and in our common veneration for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient centripetal power which shall hold the thick-clustering stars of our confederacy in one glorious constellation forever! Let the column, which we are about to construct, be at once a pledge and an emblem of perpetual union! Let the foundations be laid, let the superstructure be built up and cemented, let each stone be raised and riveted, in a spirit of national brotherhood ! And
the earliest ray of the rising sun, till that sun shall set to rise no more, draw forth from it daily, as from the fabled statue of antiquity, a strain of national harmony, which shall strike a responsive chord in every heart throughout the republic!
2. Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work for which you have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument which shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole American people to the illustrious Father of his country! Build it to the
es; you cannot outreach the loftiness of his principles! Found it upon the massive eternal rock; you cannot make it more enduring than his fame! Construct it of the peerless Parian marble; you cannot make it purer than his life! Exhaust upon it the rules and principles of ancient and of modern art; you cannot make it more proportionate than his character.
3. But let not your homage to his memory end here. Think