2. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And to the presence in the room he said,
“ What writest thou ?” The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, “ The names of those who love the Lord.”

3. “And is mine one ? ” said Abou. — • Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.”

4. The angel wrote and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Extract from a Speech in the United States House of Repris

sentatives.* — R. C. WINTHROP.
1. Sir, if my name were a little less humble than I feel it
to be, if I were not conscious how small a claim it has to
be classed among the great names even of our own age and
country, much more of the world, I should be tempted to
console myself, under these conflicting accusations, with those
noble lines of Milton, which, as it is, I cannot but remember:

“ Fame, if not double-faced, is double-tongued,
And with contráry blast proclaims most deeds ;
On both his wings, one black, the other white,

Bears greatest names in his wild aëry flight.”
2. But indeed, Mr. Chairman, I need no consolation.
These contradictory charges are the natural consequence of
the

very position which I have sought to occupy, position which I glory this day in occupying, — and from which no provocations and no reproaches can ever drive me.

* I have been no agitator. I have sympathized with no fanatics. I have defended the rights and interests and principles of the North, to the best of my ability, wherever and whenever I have found them assailed; but I

of the very

have enlisted in no crusade upon the institutions of the South. I have eschewed and abhorred ultraism at both ends of the union. “A plague o' both your houses,” has been my constant ejaculation; and it is altogether natural, therefore, that both their houses should cry a plague on me.

4. I would not have it otherwise. I dote on their dislike. I covet their opposition. I desire no other testimony to the general propriety of my own course than their reproaches. I thank my God that he has endowed me, if with no other gifts, with a spirit of moderation, which incapacitates me for giving satisfaction to ultraists anywhere and on any subject. If they were to speak well of me, I should be compelled to exclaim, like one of old, “What bad thing have I done, that such men praise me ? "

5. The only thing which I have to regret, Mr. Chairman, is, that these various charges could not have been made against me in one and the same debate, and on one and the same day. They would then have effectually answered each other. They would then have fairly shamed each other out of court, and I should have been spared the necessity of even this brief allusion to them.

6. Sir, while I reserve to myself the full liberty to act and to vote, upon every question which may hereafter arise, as my judgment at the time, and under the circumstances, may dictate, I have no hesitation in expressing my opinion, that the plan proposed * * * is the plan to which we must come at last, for the settlement of these exciting and difficult questions. I do not say that it is the plan, of all others, which some of us could have wished to carry out. But the question is not what we wish, but what can we accomplish. “If to do were as easy as to know what it were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages rich men's palaces.” We must aim at something practical and practicable, * *

* something by which * * * sensibilities may allayed, * * * principles satisfactorily vindicated," domestic peace maintained, and the American union preserved.

7. And, Mr. Chairman, the American union must be preserved! I speak for Faneuil Hall. Not for Faneuil Hall, occupied, as it sometimes has been, by a

party convention, denouncing the constitution and government under which we live, and breathing threatenings and slaughter against all who support them; but for Faneuil Hall, thronged as it has been so often in times past, and as it will be so often, for a thousand generations, in times to come, by

be

*

as intelligent, honest, and patriotic a people as the sun ever shone upon; I speak for Faneuil Hall, and for the great masses of true-hearted American freemen, without distinction of party, who delight to dwell beneath its shadow, and to gather beneath its roof ; I speak for Faneuil Hall, when I say, · The union of these states must not, shall not, be dissolved!”

8. The honorable member * * * alluded, the other day, in terms of reproach and condemnation, to a sentiment which 1 proposed at a public dinner, in this same Faneuil Hall, on the 4th of July, 1845. I am willing that the house and the country should pass judgment upon that sentiment. sorry that it is not better; but such as it is, I reiterate it here to-day. I stand by it now and always. It is my living sentiment, and will be my dying sentiment:

6. Our country, - whether bounded by the St. John and the Sabine, or however otherwise bounded or described, and be the measurements more or less, still our country, to be cherished in all our hearts, to be defended by all our hands!”

I am

LESSON L.

Scene from the Honeymoon. — TOBIN. [The Duke Aranza, having married Juliana, the beautiful but haughty daughter of an artist, prepares

a penance for the bride." In the height of her ambitious hopes, he takes her, immediately after the marriage ceremony, “ to a miserable hut, which he had ordered to be prepared, where, throwing off the title of a duke, he appears to her as a low-born peasant, in which character he subdues her haughty spirit, secures her affections, and finally surprises her by making her the partner of his ducal rank.”' The following scene has been selected for the opportunity it affords for the display of taste and expression in reading.] [Scene before the Marriage. A room in Balthazar's house. - Enter Balthazar and

Volante.]
Balthazar. Not yet appareled ?

Volante. 'Tis her wedding day, sir ;
On such occasions women claim some 'grace.

Bal. How bears she
The coming of her greatness?

Vol. Bravely, sir.
Instead of the high honors that await her,
I think that, were she now to be enthroned,
She would become her coronation;

For, when she has adjusted some stray lock,
Or fixed, at last, some sparkling ornament,
She views her beauty with collected pride,
Musters her whole soul in her eyes,

and

says, “ Look I not like an empress ?”

- But she comes.
Enter Juliana, in her wedding dress.
Juliana. Well, sir, what think you? Do I to the life
Appear a duchess, or will people say,
She does but poorly play a part which nature
Never designed her for – But, where's the duke ?

Bal. Not come yet.
Jul. How ? not come ?. the duke not come ?

Vol. Patience, sweet sister; oft without a murmur
It has been his delight to wait for you.

Jul. It was his duty. Man was born to wait
On woman, and attend her sovereign pleasure !
This tardiness upon his wedding-day
Is but a sorry sample of obedience.

Bal. Obedience, girl ?
Jul Ay, sir, obedience !
Vol. Why, what a wire-drawn puppet you will make
The man you marry!- I suppose, ere long,
You 'll choose how often he shall walk abroad
For recreation ; fix his diet for him;
Bespeak his clothes, and say on what occasions
He may put on his finest suit

Jul. Proceed.
Vol. Keep all the keys, and, when he bids his friends,
Mete out a modicum of wine to each.
Had you not better put him in a livery
At once, and let him stand behind

your

chair?
Why, I would rather wed a man of dough,
Such as some school-girl, when the pie is made,
To amuse her childish fancy, kneads at hazard
Out of the remnant paste, -a paper man,
Cut by a baby! Heavens preserve me ever
From that dull blessing – - an obedient husband!

Jul. And make you an obedient wife ! - A thing
For lordly man to vent his humors on;
A dull domestic drudge, to be abused.
“ If you think so, my dear; ” and, “ As you please ;
And, “ You know best; even when he nothing knows.
I have no patience

Should sink the high tone of her noble nature
Down to a slavish whisper, for that compound
Of frail mortality, they call a man,
And give her charter up to make a tyrant !

Bal. You talk it most heroically. — Pride
May be a proper bait to catch a lover,
But, trust me, daughter, 't will not hold a husband.

Jul. Leave that to me;—and what should I have caught,
If I had fished with your humility?
Some pert apprentice, or rich citizen,
Who would have bought me; some poor gentleman,
Whose high patrician blood would have descended
To wed a painter's daughter and — her ducats !
I felt my value, and still kept aloof;
Nor stopped my eye till I had met the man,
Picked from all Spain, to be my husband, girl ;
And him I have so managed, that he feels
I have conferred an honor on his house,
By coyly condescending to be his.
Bal. He comes.
Vol. Smooth your brow, sister.

Jul. For a man !
He must be one not made of mortal clay, then.

Enter the Duke.
0! you are come, sir? I have waited for you! -
Is this your gallantry ? at such a time, too?

Duke. I do entreat your pardon ;
The pressing cause

Vo. Let me entreat for him.
Bal. Come, girl, be kind !
Jul. Well, sir, you are forgiven.
Duke. You are all goodness; let me on this hand

[Taking her hand, which she withdraws.
Jul. Not yet, sir! — 't is a virgin hand as yet,
And my own property; - forbear a while,
And, with this humble person, 't will be yours.

Duke. Exquisite modesty ! Come, let us on !
All things are waiting for the ceremony;
And, till you grace it, Hymen's wasting torch
Burns dim and sickly. — Come, my Juliana.

if you knew