5 if that Rattledumslap Bill is passed, no vote of mine do you ever have again. I 'a horsed that road, now nigh upon thirty years, I bore up against the kinal,--but for the railroad Sitt. I give you my word, I was not aware that the railroad would interfere with your interests; or, to tell you the truth, that it would come near your line. It struck me as a great national work, worthy of support. Lock. "National work!" It is mighty agreeable to 10 hear you putting what you call a national work in competition with my Tow-twaddle Canal. Jarvis. Yes, or the Eclipse, Wonder, and Rocket, all of which call me master. Mist. I take higher grounds of objection to Mr. Sitting15 bourn. 20 Cross. And I, higher still, the oppression of a vast body of Englishmen. Mist. The danger of a large connexion of exemplary Christians. Cowl. Sir, I have just six questions to put to you Sitt. Sir, I cannot allow any questions to be put here; this is neither the House of Commons nor the hustings; and as I have other things to do besides listening to the separate grievances of a whole constituency, I shall wish 25 you a very good morning, leaving my breakfast parlor entirely at your service to discuss your own business, which is none of mine; and I only beg leave to tell you that whatever your opinion of the relative obligations of a representative to his constituents may be, I, for one, con30 scious of doing my duty to you and to my country, to the best of my ability, will neither hold the office of a slave, nor endure the character of a delegate. I wish you a very good morning; and when next we meet in the Town Hall, I shall be happy to hear what you may have 35 to say. LESSON CXLIII.-A REPUBLICAN SCHOOL-ROOM.-A. B. MUZZEY. The success of all human enterprises depends much on the importance attached to them, the dignity they assume in our view, and the associations which circle round them. The orators of immortal renown, in ancient times, were 5 accustomed to invest the themes they discussed, with a peculiar greatness, and to throw a halo of glory around But there the occasion that had convened their audience. is one assembly, unknown to their days, and compared with which their proudest conventions fade, as the morning star before coming day. It is in the school-room in a 5 republic, the place where, in a land favored like our own, the children of the rich and the poor, of the obscure and the honored, are seated side by side. This spectacle was reserved for a modern age; and if, of old, the thought of that influence, which an eloquent voice may exert over an 10 audience of mature minds, fixed habits, and established principles, was so inspiring, what is not the legitimate effect of contemplating a collection of immortal beings, brought together for the culture of their noblest powers, at the earliest, and, therefore, the most decisive period of 15 their lives? When I think of the office of one, set for a teacher of those beings, it rises in my mind to a rank which might seem, even to those thus occupied, to be unduly magnified, did I state my own feelings in relation to it. Many 20 look down for the Teacher; they think his work one which almost any individual can perform, and to which neither honor, nor high compensation, rightfully belong. I look up for the teacher, far above gross and perishing interests, up to the clear sky of spirit, intelligence, and 25 character; and of him, who is charged with these sacred concerns, and who is faithful to this great vocation, I can never think otherwise than with reverence. LESSON CXLIV.-THE ENGLISH SKYLARK.-SAMUEL H. STEARNS. [Extract from a letter of a young American to his brother.] London, July 12, 1836. My Dear Brother, I rose early to enjoy the hallowed hour of devotion. It was my first Sabbath in a foreign land; and a delightful morning it was. The sky was clear, and the air was fresh and balmy. I walked beyond 5 the closely built houses of the town, now closed in silence on their slumbering inhabitants, to spend those halcyon moments among cottages and gardens, fields and hedges, all bright with the morning sun, and fresh with the dew of heaven, to be regaled with views as beautiful as they were new, with the fragrance of flowers I had never before seen, and the music of birds whose notes had never before struck my ear and thrilled my heart. When I had reached the top of a broad, swelling, ver5 dant hill, about one and a half mile from the town, I took my position upon the top of a hedge bank. The town and the harbor were before me; and all around were the neat white-washed, straw-thatched cottages, and blooming gardens, and velvet-like fields, enclosed with green and 10 flowering hedges, and shaded with deep verdant trees, and enlivened with gay birds, which alone, of all animated beings seemed, with inanimate nature, to have caught the spirit of the morning, and to be sympathizing and vying with each other in the worship of their Maker. 15 I had not stood there long before I enjoyed the principal object of my search. It was the morning lark, rising and singing towards heaven,-just as Jeremy Taylor has so beautifully described it to our imaginations. I could not have had a better exhibition of it. It satisfied, and more 20 than satisfied, my previous, and most pleasing conceptions of it. I saw one rise, and watched its ascent, and listened to its song, till it was entirely above and beyond my sight. I could only hear its note, more soft, more sweet as it was nearer the home of the blest, and the object of its praise, 25 the throne of its God. I could think of nothing but of some returning angel, or of some sainted spirit released from its service below, and springing from the earth, gaily ascending higher and higher, singing more and more joyously, and resting not 30 from its song or its flight, till it folds its wing and rests its foot. by the throne of Him who made it. I could still hear its note, and still I gazed after it, and presently discerned its form, and saw it descend; but its descent was, if possible, more beautiful than its ascent. It returned to 35 earth with such a graceful and easy motion, it seemed as if conscious that it could, at any time, rise again. It I did not intend to give you any description of this hour or of this scene; and you can have no idea of it now. was altogether the happiest hour I have enjoyed since I 40 left my native land. I returned to my lodgings, satisfied, -filled, and feeling as if I had had a glimpse, and caught a note, of heaven. LESSON CXLV.-THE INVALID AND THE POLITICIAN. Murphy. [Enter Feeble in his night-gown.] Quidnunc. [Without.] Hold your tongue, you foolish fellow, he 'll be glad to see me. Feeble! Brother Feeble! brother Bless my heart! what voice. I hope no new [Enter Quid.] Feeble. I was just going to bed. 5 can this man want? I know his misfortune brings him at this hour! Brother Feeble, I give you joy: the nabob's demolished.-Hurrah! Feeb. Lack-a-day, Mr. Quidnunc, how can you serve 10 me thus? Quid. Suraja Dowla is no more! Hurrah! Feeb. Poor man! he's stark, staring mad. Quid. Our men diverted themselves with killing their bullocks and their camels, till they dislodged the enemy 15 from the octagon, and the counterscarp, and the bungalow Feeb. I'll hear the rest to-morrow morning :-Oh! I'm ready to die! Quid. Odds heart, man, be of good cheer! The new 20 nabob, Jaffer Alley Cawn, has acceded to a treaty; and the English company got all their rights in the Phiemad and the Fushbulhoorums. 25 Feeb. But dear heart, Mr. Quidnunc! why am I to be disturbed for this? Quid. We had but two seapoys killed, three chokeys, four gaul-walls, and two zemindars,-hurrah! Feeb. Would not to-morrow morning do as well for this? Quid. Light up your windows, man! Light up your 30 windows! Chandernagore is taken,-hurrah! Feeb. Well, well, I'm glad of it-good night! [Going.] Feeb. Oh! I shall certainly faint! [Sits down.] Quid. Ay, ay, sit down; and I'll read it to you.-[Be35 gins to read. Feeb. moves away.] Nay, don't run away, I've more news to tell you!-there's an account from Williamsburg in America:-the superintendent of Indian affairs Feeb. Dear sir! dear sir!-[Avoiding him.] Quid. He has settled matters with the Cherokees[Following him.] Feeb. Enough, enough!-[From him.] Quid. In the same manner he did before with the Cataw5 bas.-[After him.] 10 Feeb. Well, well,-your servant-[From him.] Quid. So that the white inhabitants-[After him.] Feeb. I wish you would let me be a quiet inhabitant of my own house Quid. So that the white inhabitants will now be secured by the Cherokees and Catawbas Feeb. You'd better go home, and think of appearing before the commissioners : Quid. Go home! no, no: I'll go and talk the matter 15 over at our coffee-house. [Going.] 20 25 Feeb. Do so, do so! Quid. [Returning.] I had a dispute about the balance of power;-pray, now, can you tell— Feeb. I know nothing of the matter Quid. Well, another time will do for that. I have a great deal to say about that-[Going, returns.] Right, I had like to have forgot; there's an erratum in the last Gazette. Feeb. With all my heart Quid. Page 3, 1st col., 1st and 3rd lines,-for bombs, read booms. Feeb, Read what you will Quid. Nay, but that alters the sense, you know.-Well now, your servant. If I hear any more news, I'll come 30 and tell you. 35 Feeb. For Heaven's sake no more : Quid. I'll be with you before you 're out of your first sleep: : Feeb. Good night, good night!-[Runs off.] Quid. [Bawling after him.] I forgot to tell you—the Emperor of Morocco is dead. So now, I have made him happy. I'll go and knock up my friend Razor, and make him happy, too; and then I'll go and see if anybody is up at the coffee-house, and make them all happy there, 40 too. |