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“That fires not, wins not, weeps not now.”

“Look to your hearths, my lords,
For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus ; all shames and crimes ;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.”

In helpless, hopeless brokenness of heart.


“ Down cloudy pathways walks the coming night,
Casting mysterious shadows in her way,-
Shadows that thrill each sense with vague alarm,
More frightful for their very nothingness.”

« Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,

And stars to set ;-but all —
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death !”

“Me miserable, which way shall I fly?
Infinite wrath and infinite despair!
Which way I fly is Hell,myself am Hell:
And in the lowest deep, a lower deep,
Still threatening to devour me, opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven!”

O blessed sleep!
In which, exempt from our
Tired selves, and all the
Shams o’er which we weep,
Toward our native nothingness
We sink ten thousand fathoms deep.

-J. G. Holland.

The light of genius is sometimes so resplendent as to make a man walk through life amid glory and acclamation : but it burns very dimly and low when carried into “the valley of the shadow of death.”


“ Around each pure domestic shrine
Bright flowers of Eden bloom and twine;

Our hearts are altars all :
The prayers of hungry souls and poor,
Like armèd angels at the door,

Our unseen foes appall.”


Personation is the representation of the words, manner, and action of one person, or of many

individuals. This power is capable of producing an effect nearly equal

to scenic representation.


Ham. Now, mother; what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come; you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go ; you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?

What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me?

No, by the rood, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And,-would it were not so !—you are my mother.

Queen. Nay, then, I 'll send those to you that can speak.

Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge: You go not, till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you.


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The train from out the castle drew,
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu :
“ Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble earl, receive my hand.”
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke ;

My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open at my sovereign's will
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer;
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation stone ;
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion’s clasp.”
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire ;
And “ This to me!” he said ;
6 An't were not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head !
And first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest of her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate!
And if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,-
Lord Angus, thou hast lied !”
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O’ercame the ashen hue of age.
Fierce he broke forth, “ And dar'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go?
No, by Saint Bryde of Bothwell, no!
Up drawbridge, grooms! What, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall ! ”


"And how's my boy, Betty?” asked Mrs. Boffin, sitting down beside her.

“He's bad; he's bad !” said Betty. “I begin to be afeerd he'll not be yours any more than mine. All others belonging to him have gone to the Power and the Glory; and I have a mind that they're drawing him to them, leading him away."

“No, no, no!” said Mrs. Boffin.

“I do n't know why else he clinches his little hand, as if he had hold of a finger that I can't see ; look at it !” said Betty, opening the wrappers in which the fushed child lay, and showing his small right hand lying closed upon his breast. “It's always so. It don't mind me.”

- Dickens.

Helen. What's that you

read ? Modus. Latin, sweet cousin.

Hel. "T is a naughty tongue, I fear, and teaches men to lie.

Modus. To lie!

Hel. You study it. You call your cousin sweet,
And treat her as you would a crab. As sour
'Twould seem you think her, so you covet her!
Why, how the monster stares and looks about!
You construe Latin, and can't construe that!

Modus. I never studied women.

Hel. No, nor men; Else would


better know their ways, nor read In presence of a lady."

Men. You blame Marcius for being proud ? Brutus. We do it not alone, sir.

Men. I know you can do very little alone ; for your helps are many; or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilites are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves !”



When the Mental and the Vital are fully developed, the

Moral predominates. The Art of Oratory is expressing mental thought by means

of physicial organs, and may be divided into three parts,

Vital, Mental, and Moral. The Vital is the sensitive, and sustains; the soul turns back

upon itself, and the organism obeys this movement. Head elevated, eyes wide open, brows level.

Examples of the Vital.

“ Thoughts—what are they?

They are my constant friends,
Who, when harsh fate its dull brow bends,
Unclosed me with a smiling ray,
And in the depth of midnight force a day."

Now is the winter of


discontent Made glorious summer.

“I am monarch of all I

My rights there is none to dispute ;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.

66 O solitude! where are the charms

sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.”

“Young men and women! there is no picture of ideal excellence of manhood and womanhood that I ever draw, that seems too high, too beautiful, for your young hearts. What aspirations there are for the good, the true, the fair, and the holy! The instinctive affections,—how beautiful they are, with all their purple prophecy of new homes and generations of immortals that are yet to be! The high instincts of reason, of conscience, of love, of religion, how beautiful and grand they are in the young heart!”

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