a mist, so men tower into giants when seen through the haze of antiquity. Without neglecting the ancient models, let us study those of our own times. From both we may catch some of that inspiration which bound the audience to the orator, and bade him play upon their emotions as the master touches the keys of his familiar instrument; which subdued them to tears or convulsed them with laughter; which bore them aloft on the wing of imagination, or blanched them with horror, while narration threw upon the canvas the colors which held the judgment and the fancy captive, as reason forged the chain of argument, and poetry studded its links with the gems of illustration; which poured over the subject a flood of rare knowledge, laden with the contributions of all sciences and all ages; which gamboled in playful humor, or barbed the point of epigram, or sketched the laughing caricature, gliding from grave to gay, from lively to severe, with majesty and grace;-that inspiration which, as Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and the judgment, made Felix tremble; as Demosthenes anathematized Macedonia, made the Greeks cry out, "Lead us against Philip"; at the thrilling tones of Patrick Henry, made America ring with the shout, "Give us liberty, or give us death"; when the thunder of Danton shook the dome of the Convention, roused all Paris to demand the head of Louis; and lashed into fury or hushed into repose acres of wild peasantry, as the voice of O'Connell rose or fell. COLUMBUS 3 COLUMBUS CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW An extract from the Columbian Oration, delivered at the Dedication Ceremonies of the World's Fair at Chicago, Ill., October 21, 1892. Printed by permission. The overthrow of the Mahometan power in Spain would have been a forgotten scene in one of the innumerable acts in the grand drama of history had not Isabella conferred immortality upon herself, her husband, and their dual crown, by her recognition of Columbus. The devout spirit of the queen and the high purpose of the explorer inspired the voyage, subdued the mutinous crew, and prevailed over the raging storms. They covered with the divine radiance of religion and humanity the degrading search for gold and the horrors of its quest, which filled the first century of conquest with every form of lust and greed. The mighty soul of the great admiral was undaunted by the ingratitude of princes and the hostility of the people, by imprisonment and neglect. He died as he was securing the means and preparing a campaign for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem from the infidel. He did not know, what time has revealed, that, while the mission of the crusades of Godfrey of Bouillon and Richard of the Lion Heart was a bloody and fruitless romance, the discovery of America was the salvation of the world. The one was the symbol, the other the spirit; the one death, the other life. The tomb of the Savior was a narrow and empty vault, precious only for its memories of the supreme tragedy of the centuries; but the new continent was to be the home and temple of the living God. All hail, Columbus, discoverer, dreamer, hero, and apostle! We here, of every race and country, recognize the horizon which bounded his vision, and the infinite scope of his genius. The voice of gratitude and praise for all the blessings which have been showered upon mankind by his adventure is limited to no language, but is uttered in every tongue. Neither marble nor brass can fitly form his statue. Continents are his monuments, and innumerable millions, past, present, and to come, who enjoy in their liberties and their happiness the fruits of his faith, will reverently guard and preserve, from century to century, his name and fame. THE CHARACTER OF THE ENGLISH THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY An extract from the conclusion of Macaulay's "Essay on Milton," first published in the Edinburgh Review, August, 1825. The Puritans were the most remarkable body of men which the world has ever produced. For many years after the Restoration they were the theme of unmeasured invective and derision. The ostentatious simplicity of their dress, their sour aspect, their long graces, [sic] their contempt of CHARACTER OF THE ENGLISH PURITANS 5 human learning, were indeed fair game for the laughers. But it is not from the laughers alone that the philosophy of history is to be learned. Those who roused the people to resistance, who directed their measures through a long series of eventful years, who formed, out of the most unpromising materials, the finest army Europe had ever seen, who trampled down King, Church, and Aristocracy, and made the name of England terrible to every nation on the face of the earth, were no vulgar fanatics. The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior beings and eternal interests. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through a veil, they aspired to gaze full on His intolerable brightness and to commune with Him face to face. They recognized no title to superiority but His favor; and, confident of that favor, they despised all the dignities of the world. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If their names were not found in the register of heralds, they were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. Their places were houses not made with hands; their diadems, crowns of glory which should never fade away. They prostrated themselves in the dust before their Maker; but they set their feet on the neck of their King. THE MAYFLOWER EDWARD EVERETT From an oration on the "First Settlement of New England,” delivered at Plymouth, Mass., December 22, 1824. Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard; the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow; the ocean breaks and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against the staggering vessel. I see them escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and exhausted from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on |