art, by forming a species of action and reäction between the auditory and the speaker. It is in this sense that Cicero is right in saying, "That no man can be eloquent without a multitude to hear him."

3. The auditor came to hear a discourse; the orator at tacks him, accuses him, makes him abashed; addresses him at one time as his confidant, at another as his mediator or his judge. See with what address he unvails his most con.. cealed passions; with what penetration he shows him his most intimate thoughts; with what energy he annihilates his best framed excuses! The culprit repents. Profound attention, consternation, confusion, remorse, all announce that the orator has penetrated, in his retired meditations, into the recesses of the heart. Then, provided no ill-timed sally of wit follow to blunt the strokes of Christian eloquence, there may be in the church two thousand auditors, yet there will be but one thought, but one opinion; and all those individuals united, form that ideal man whom the orator had in view while composing his discourse.

4. But, you may ask, where is this ideal man, composed of so many different traits, to be found, unless we describe some chimerical being? Where shall we find a phantom. like this, singular but not outré, in which every individual may recognize himself, although it resembles not any one? Where shall we find him? In your own heart. Often retire there. Survey all its recesses. There you will trace both the pleas for those passions which you will have to combat, and the source of those false reasonings which you must point out. To be eloquent we must enter within ourselves. The first productions of a young orator are generally too far fetched. His mind, always on the stretch, is making continual efforts, without his ever venturing to com mit himself to the simplicity of nature, until experience teaches him that, to arrive at the sublime, it is, in fact, less necessary to elevate his imagination, than to be deeply im pressed with his subject.

5. If you have studied the sacred books; if you have observed men; if you have attended to writers on morals, who serve you instead of historians; if you have become

familiar with the language of orators, make trial of your eloquence upon yourself, become, so to speak, the auditor of your own discourses; and thus, by anticipating the effect which they ought to produce, you will easily delineate true characters; you will perceive that, notwithstanding the shades of difference which distinguish them, all men bear an interior resemblance to one another, and that their vices have a uniformity, because they always proceed either from weakness or interest. In a word, your descriptions will not be indeterminate; and the more thoroughly you shall have examined what passes within your own breast, with more ability will you unfold the hearts of others.

MAURY.

LXXII.-FLOWERS.

1. Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

2. Stars they are, wherein we read our history,
As astrologers and seers of eld;
Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery,
Like the burning stars which they beheld.
3. Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,
God hath written in those stars above;
But not less in the bright flow'rets under us
Stands the revelation of His love.

4. Bright and glorious is that revelation,

Written all over this great world of ours,
Making evident our own creation,

In these stars of earth-these golden flowers.

5. And the poet, faithful and far-seeing,
Sees, alike in stars and flowers, a part

Of the self-same universal Being,

Which is throbbing in his brain and heart

6. Gorgeous flowers in the sunlight shining,
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day;
Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining,
Buds that open only to decay:

7. Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,
Flaunting gaily in the golden light;
Large desires, with most uncertain issues,
Tender wishes, blossoming at night!

8. These in flowers and men are more than seeming;
Workings are they of the self-same Power,
Which the poet, in no idle dreaming,
Seeth in himself and in the flower.

9. Every where about us are they glowing,
Some, like stars, to tell us Spring is born;
Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
Stand, like Ruth, amid the golden corn.

10. Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing,
And in Summer's green-emblazoned field,
But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing,
In the center of his brazen shield;

11. Not alone in meadows and green alleys,
On the mountain-top, and by the brink
Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys,
Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink;

12. Not alone in her vast dome of glory,

Not on graves of bird and beast alone,
But in old cathedrals, high and hoary,
On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone;

13. In the cottage of the rudest peasant,

In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers,
Speaking of the Past unto the Present,
Tell us of the ancient games of flowers;

14. In all places, then, and in all seasons,

Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings,
Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons,
How akin they are to human things.

15. And with childlike, credulous affection,
We behold their tender buds expand;
Emblems of our own great resurrection,
Emblems of 66
the bright and better land.”

LONGFELLOW

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS.

LXXIII. THE INSPIRATION OF THE BIBLE.

1. Such is the intrinsic excellence of Christianity that it is adapted to the wants of all, and it provides for all, not only by its precepts and by its doctrines, but also by its evidence.

2. The poor man may know nothing of history, or science, or philosophy; he may have read scarcely any book but the Bible; he may be totally unable to vanquish the skeptic in the arena of public debate; but he is nevertheless surrounded by a panoply which the shafts of infidelity can never pierce.

3. You may go to the home of the poor cottager, whose heart is deeply imbued with the spirit of vital Christianity; you may see him gather his little family around him he expounds to them the wholesome doctrines and principles of the Bible, and if they want to know the evidence upon which he rests his faith, of the divine origin of his religion, he can tell them upon reading the book which teaches Christianity, he finds not only a perfectly true description of his own natural character, but in the provisions of this religion perfect adaptation to all his needs.

4. It is a religion by which to live-a religion by which to die; a religion which cheers in darkness, relieves in perplexity, supports in adversity, keeps steadfast in prosperity, and guides the inquirer to that blessed land where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”

5. We entreat you, therefore, to give the Bible a welcome—a cordial reception; obey its precepts, trust its prom ises, and rely implicitly upon that Divine Redeemer, whose religion brings glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace and good will to men.

6. Thus will you fulfill the noble end of your existence, and the great God of the universe will be your father and your friend; and when the last mighty convulsion shall shake the earth, and the sea, and the sky, and the fragments

of a thousand barks, richly freighted with intellect and learning, are scattered on the shores of error and delusion your vessel shall in safety outride the storm and enter in triumph the haven of eternal rest. EDW. WINTHROP.

LXXIV.-POETICAL SELECTIONS.

1.-MY MOTHER'S BIBLE.

1. THIS book is all that's left me now!
Tears will unbidden start;

With faltering lip and throbbing brow,

I

press it to my heart.

For many generations past,

Here is our family tree:

My mother's hands this Bible clasped;
She, dying, gave it me.

2. Ah! well do I remember those

Whose names these records bear,
Who round the hearth-stone used to close,
After the evening prayer;

And speak of what these pages said,
In tones my heart would thrill!
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still.

3. My father read this holy book
To brothers, sisters, dear;

How calm was my dear mother's look,
Who loved God's word to hear.

Her aged face-I see it yet,

As thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the halls of home!

4. Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried;

When all were false I found thee true,
My counselor and guide.

The mines of earth no treasure give
That could this volume buy:

In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.

G. P. MORRIS