Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, The heartless luxury of the tomb. And she, the mother of thy boys, The memory of her buried joys,— Talk of thy doom without a sigh; FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. ARISTOCRACY. I. The gentleman who has so copiously declaimed against all declamation, has pointed his artillery against the rich and great. We are told that in every country there is a natural aristocracy, and that this aristocracy consists of the rich and the great. Nay, the gentleman goes further, and ranks in this class of men the wise, the learned, and those eminent for their talents or great virtues. Does a man possess the confidence of his fellow-citizens for having done them important services? He is an aristocrat. Has he great integrity? He is an aristocrat. Indeed, to determine that one is an aristocrat, we need only to be assured that he is a man of merit. But I hope we may have such. So sensible am I of that gentleman's talents, integrity and virtue, that we might at once hail him the first of the nobles, the very prince of the Senate. 2. But whom, in the name of common sense, would the gentleman have to represent us? Not the rich, for they are sheer aristocrats. Not the learned, the wise, the virtuous; for they are all aristocrats. Whom then? Why, those who are not virtuous; those who are not wise; those who are not learned; these are the men to whom alone we can trust our liberties! He says further, we ought not to choose aristocrats because the people will not have confidence in them. That is to say, the people will not have confidence in those who best deserve and most possess their confidence. He would have his government composed of other classes of men. Where will he find them? Why, he must go forth into the highways and pick up the rogue and the robber. He must go to the hedges and the ditches, and bring in the poor, the blind and the lame. As the gentleman has thus settled the definition of aristocracy, I trust that no man will think it a term of reproach, for who among us would not be wise? who would not be virtuous? who would not be above want? The truth is, in these republican governments we know no such ideal distinctions. We are all equally aristocrats. Offices, emoluments, honors, the roads to preferment and to wealth, are alike open to all. ROBERT R. LIVINGSTON. GO FEEL WHAT I HAVE FELT. [Written by a young lady who was told that she was a monomaniac in her hatred of alcoholic liquors. This piece belongs to the impassioned, poetic style, and should be delivered in an earnest, grand and lofty tone, using the expulsive form of the orotund quality of voice.] Go, feel what I have felt, Go bear what I have borne; Sink 'neath a blow a father dealt, Go, weep as I have wept O'er a loved father's fall. See every cherished promise swept, Youth's sweetness turned to gall; Hope's faded flowers strewed all the way That led me up to woman's day. Go, kneel as I have knelt Implore, beseech, and pray, Strive the besotted heart to melt, The downward course to stay; Be cast with bitter curse aside, Thy prayers burlesqued, thy tears defied. Go, stand where I have stood, And see the strong man bow, With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood, Go, catch his wandering glance, and see Go, hear what I have heard,- As memory's feeling fount hath stirred, Have told him what he might have been Go to my mother's side, And her crushed spirit cheer; Thine own deep anguish hide, Wipe from her cheek the tear; Mark her dimmed eye, her furrowed brow. And led her down from love and light, Go hear, and see, and feel, and know All that my soul hath felt and known, Tell me I hate the bowl,— Of the DARK BEVERAGE OF HELL! ANONYMOUS. GOLDEN HAIR. Golden Hair sat on her grandfather's knee; Up in the morning as soon as 'twas light, Grandfather toyed with the curls on her head; "Pitty much," answered the sweet little one; "I cannot tell, so much things have I done; Played with my dolly, and feeded my 'bun,' "And then I jumped with my little jump-rope, And I made out of some water and soap Bootiful worlds, mamma's castles of hope. "Then I have readed in my picture-book, And Bella and I, we went to look For the smooth little stones by the side of the brook. "And then I comed home and eated my tea, Lower and lower the little head pressed, We are but children; things that we do God grant that when night overshadows our way, And O, when aweary, may we be so blest, ANONYMOUS. THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER. We were crowded in the cabin; It was midnight on the waters, 'Tis a fearful thing in winter |