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stood about His throne, he said, 'take him, strip him of his robes of flesh; cleanse his affections; put a new breath into his nostril; but touch not his human heart-the heart that fears, and hopes, and trembles.' A moment, and it was done, and the man stood ready for his unknown voyage. Under the guidance of a mighty angel, with sounds of flying pinions, they sped away from the battlements of heaven. Some time, on the mighty angel's wings, they fled through Saharas of darkness, wildernesses of death. At length, from a distance not counted, save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed upon them a sleepy flame, as seen through a hazy cloud. They sped on, in their terrible speed, to meet the light; the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment, the blazing of suns around them—a moment, the wheeling of planets; then came long eternities of twilight; then again, on the right hand and the left, appeared more constellations. At last, the man sank down, crying, 'Angel, I can go no further, let me lie down in the grave, and hide myself from the infinitude of the universe, for end there is none.' 'End is there none?' demanded the angel. And, from the glittering stars that shone around, there came a choral shout, end there is none!' End is there none?' demanded the angel
again, and is it this that awes thy soul?' I answer, • end there is none to the universe of God! Lo, also, there is no beginning!'”
THE MARCH OF THE FLAG
ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE
Albert J. Beveridge was born on a farm in Highland County, Ohio, October 6, 1862; was admitted to the bar in 1886, and has achieved success in his profession, especially as a fervid and able advocate. He excels in demonstrative eloquence, and is one of the most successful and powerful political speakers of the day. He was elected to the United States Senate from Indiana, January 17, 1899, and has spoken there several times on impending questions in a manner to impress that assembly and the country. One of his best addresses was delivered on January 19, 1900, in reference to the Philippine question. The following extract is from one of his political speeches, delivered at Indianapolis, Ind., September 16, 1898.
you remember that we do but what our fathers did — we but pitch the tent of
liberty - farther westward, farther southward we only continue the march of the flag.
The march of the flag!
In 1789, the flag of the republic waved over four million souls in thirteen States, and their savage territory, which stretched to the Mississippi, to Canada, to the Floridas. The timid minds of that day said that no new territory was needed, and, for the hour, they were right. But Jefferson, who dreamed of Cuba as a state of the Union; Jefferson, the first imperialist of the republic — Jefferson acquired that imperial territory which swept from the Mississippi to the mountains, from Texas to the British possessions, and the march of the flag began!
The infidels to the gospel of liberty raved, but the flag swept on! The title to that noble land out of which Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Montana have been carved, was uncertain; Jefferson, strict constructionist of
constitutional power though he was, obeyed the Anglo-Saxon impulse within him, whose watchword then, and whose watchword throughout the world to-day is, “ Forward,” another empire was added to the republic, and the march of the flag went on!
Those who deny the power of free institutions to expand, urged every argument, and more, that we hear to-day; but the people's judgment approved the command of their blood, and the march of the flag went on!
A screen of land from New Orleans to Florida shut us from the gulf, and over this and the Everglade Peninsula waved the saffron flag of Spain. Andrew Jackson seized both, the American people stood at his back, and, under Monroe, the Floridas
came under the dominion of the republic, and the march of the flag went on!
The Cassandras prophesied every prophecy of despair we hear to-day, but the march of the flag went on! Then Texas responded to the bugle-calls of liberty, and the march of the flag went on! And, at last, we waged war with Mexico, and the flag swept over the Southwest, over fearless California, past the Gate of Gold, to Oregon on the north, and from ocean to ocean its folds of glory blazed.
And now, obeying the same voice that Jefferson heard and obeyed, that Jackson heard and obeyed, that Monroe heard and obeyed, that Seward heard and obeyed, that Ulysses S. Grant heard and obeyed, that Benjamin Harrison heard and obeyed, William McKinley plants the flag over the islands of the seas, outposts of commerce, citadels of national security, and the march of the flag goes on!
THE BLIND PREACHER
William Wirt, American orator, author, and lawyer, was born in Bladensburg, Md., November 8, 1772, and died in Washington, D. C., February 18, 1834. He possessed a ripe knowledge, an analytical mind, and a voice of sweetness, strength, and expression which was under splendid control.
T was one Sunday, as I travelled through the
county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous, old wooden house in the forest, not far from the roadside. Having frequently seen such objects before in travelling through these States, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship.
Devotion alone should have stopped me to join in the duties of the congregation; but I must confess, that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness, was not the least of my motives. On entering, I was struck with his preternatural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man; his head, which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaking under the influence of a palsy; and a few moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind. The first emotions which touched my breast were