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3. The more I reflect, the more am I astonished at the important character of the historian. He is the sovereign censor to decide upon the renown or infamy of his fellow-men-he is the patron of kings and conquerors, on whom it depends whether they shall live in after ages, or be forgotten, as were their ancestors before them. The tyrant may oppress while the object of his tyranny exists, but the historian possesses superior might, for his power extends even beyond the grave.

4. The shades of departed and long-forgotten heroes anxiously bend down from above, while he writes, watching each movement of his pen, whether it shall pass by their names with neglect, or inscribe them on the deathless pages of renown. Even the drop of ink that hangs trembling on his pen, which he may either dash upon the floor or waste in idle scrawlings—that very drop, which to him is not worth the twentieth part of a farthing, may be of incalculable value to some departed worthy-may elevate half a score in one moment to immortality, who would have given worlds, had they possessed them, tc insure the glorious meed.

5. Let not my readers imagine, however, that I am indulging in vain-glorious boastings, or am anxious to blazon forth the importance of my tribe. On the contrary, I shrink when I reflect on the awful responsibility we historians assume--I shudder to think what direful commotions and calamities we occasion in the world-I swear to thee, honest reader, as I am a man, I weep at the very idea!

6. Why, let me ask, are so many illustrious men daily tearing themselves away from the embraces of their families-slighting the smiles of beauty-despising the allurements of fortune, and exposing themselves to the miseries of war? Why are kings desolating empires and depopulating whole countries? In short, what induces all great men, of all ages and countries, to commit so many victories and misdeeds, and inflict so many miseries upon mankind and on themselves, but the mere hope that some historian will kindly take them into notice, and admit them into a corner of his volume. For, in short, the mighty object of all their toils, their hardships, and privations, is nothing but immortal fame. And what is immortal fame? Why, half a page of dirty paper! Alas! alas! how humiliating the idea that the

renown of so great a man as Peter Stuyvesant should depend проп the pen of so little a man as Diedrich Knickerbocker!' WASHINGTON IRVING.'

31. ANCIENT AND MODERN WRITERS.

HE classics possess a peculiar charm, from the circumstance

THE

that they have been the models, I might almost say the masters, of composition and thought in all ages. In the contemplation of these august teachers of mankind, we are filled with conflicting emotions.

2. They are the early voice of the world, better remembered and more cherished still than all the intermediate words that have been uttered; as the lessons of childhood still haunt us when the impressions of later years have been effaced from the mind. But they show with most unwelcome frequency the tokens of the world's childhood, before passion had yielded to the away of reason and the affections. They want the highest charm of purity, of righteousness, of elevated sentiments, of love to God and man.

3. It is not in the frigid philosophy of the Porch and the Academy that we are to seek these; not in the marvelous teachings of Socrates, as they come mended by the mellifluous words of Plato; not in the resounding line of Homer, on whose inspiring tale of blood Alexander pillowed his head; not in the animated strain of Pindar,' where virtue is pictured in the suc

1 Diedrich Knickerbocker, the name given by the accomplished author to a fictitious satirical historian of New York.- See Biographical Sketch, p. 114.- SOCRATES, an illustrious Grecian philosopher and teacher of youth, was born at Athens, in the year 468 B. C. Though the best of all the men of his time, and one of the wisest and most just of all men, he unjustly suffered the punishment of death for impiety, at the age of seventy.- Mel lif' lu ous, flowing with honey; sweetly flowing; smooth.- PLATO, whose name stands first in speculative philosophy, born at Athens or Egina about 430 в. c.; died in his eightieth year.- ALEXANDER the Great, son of Philip, king of Macedo nia, one of the States of Greece, was born in the autumn, B. c. 356. He made so many conquests, that he was styled the Conqueror of the World. He died in May or June, B. c. 323.- PINDAR, the greatest of the Greek lyric poets, born B. c. 518, and died B. c. 439.

cessful strife of an athlete' at the Isthmian games; not in the torrent of Demosthenes,' dark with self-love and the spirit of vengeance; not in the fitful philosophy and intemperate eloquence of Tully; not in the genial libertinism of Horace, or the stately atheism of Lucretius." No: these must not be our masters; in none of these are we to seek the way of life.

4. For eighteen hundred years the spirit of these writers has been engaged in weaponless contest with the Sermon on the Mount, and those two sublime commandments on which hang all the law and the prophets. The strife is still pending. Heathenism, which has possessed itself of such siren forms, is not yet exorcised. It still tempts the young, controls the affairs of active life, and haunts the meditations of age.

5. Our own productions, though they may yield to those of the ancients in the arrangement of ideas, in method, in beauty of form, and in freshness of illustration, are immeasurably superior in the truth, delicacy, and elevation of their sentiments; above all, in the benign recognition of that great Christian revelation, the brotherhood of man. How vain are eloquence and poetry, compared with this heaven-descended truth! Put in one scale that simple utterance, and in the other the lore of antiquity, with its accumulating glosses and commentaries, and the last will be light and trivial in the balance. Greek poetry has been likened to the song of the nightingale, as she sits in the rich, symmetrical crown of the palm-tree, trilling her thickwarbled notes; but even this is less sweet and tender than the music of the human heart. CHARLES SUMNER.

CHARLES SUMNER, son of Charles Pinckney Sumner, sheriff of Suffolk, Massachusetts, was born in Boston, 1811. He is widely known for the extent of his legal knowledge and general attainments. As an orator and writer, he stands deservedly high. His style is rapid and energetic, with much fuliness of thought

Ath lote', a contender for victory in wrestling or other games.— DEMOSTHENES, the greatest of the Greek orators, born at Athens about the year B. c. 382. His orations present to us the models which approach the nearest to perfection of all human productions.- TULLY, Marcus Tullius Cicero.- HORACE, the Roman poet, born on the 8th of December, B. c. 65, and died on the 19th of November, B. c. 8.—° Lucrè' ti ús, an eminent philosopher and poet, born at Rome about 96 B. C., and said to have died by his own hands in the forty-fourth year of his age, about 52.

and illustration. He has a great deal of enthusiasm and courage, as is shown by his discourse on the "True Grandeur of Nations." On the death of Judge Story, in 1845, he was offered the vacant seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States, which honor he persisted in declining. He was elected to the Senate of the United States in 1851, to fill the vacancy created by the resignation of Daniel Webster.

32. THE POETIC FACULTY.

1. "THREE little ships I saw come up the steep

"THRE

Far out at sea: they nearer drew to shōre:

I saw him land with glad, exulting leap,

Who found this new world for mankind once more:
Stretching upon thy thought so far away,

It lies in my sight but as yesterday!

2. "Last eve I rose from the Pacific's side,

And with the wind's swift pinions to me lent,
With mighty swoop-with one flight, vast and wide,
Swept o'er the bosom of the Continent.

I saw all budding fields, all Nature's boast,
Spread like a flower'd robe, from coast to coast!
3. "Old forests, that all winter stripp'd and bare,
Wail'd to the tempest and were fill'd with gloom,
Wide desolate wastes that icy garments wear,
And silent glens-were springing into bloom.
Unnumber'd lovely haunts not known to men,
As one bower waken into life again !"

4. "In thy discourse," I ask'd, "what shall I find?"

"Hearken," the voice replied, "and know my name,
I am that Spirit of the deathless mind,

Which men do worship when they thirst for fame.
I am that Genius, given but to few,

Which yet, all never cease to seek and woo.

5. "This is the lesson my discourse would teach,

That though my vision pierceth through all time,
Though to the gates of heaven my pinions reach,

Though I may lift thy name to heights sublime,

Yet all these gifts, though they do seem to bless,
Can not alone bring thee true happiness.

6. "Each rational soul-each insect of the air,

Each sparrow midst a summer's forest leaves,
Hath its appointed place. He form'd them there,
Whose purpose lives in every thing that breathes.
Thee, also, to thy task He now would bring,
Prepared by gifts-humbled by suffering!"

GOLD PEN.

GOLD PEN. This assumed name is prefixed to a volume of poems on various subjects, recently published. The author will be sure to be received with favor whenever he pleases to lay aside his disguise.

IN

33. RETURN OF COLUMBUS.

N the spring of 1493, while the court was still at Barcelona, letters were received from Christopher Columbus, announcing his return to Spain, and the successful achievement of his great enterprise, by the discovery of land beyond the western ocean. The delight and astonishment, raised by this intelligence, were proportioned to the skepticism with which his project had been originally viewed. The sovereigns were The sovereigns were now filled with a natural impatience to ascertain the extent and other particulars of the important discovery; and they transmitted instant instructions to the admiral to repair to Barcelona, as soon as he should have made the preliminary arrangements for the further prosecution of his enterprise.

2. The great navigator had succeeded, as is well known, after a voyage, the natural difficulties of which had been much augmented by the distrust and mutinous spirit of his followers, in descrying land on Friday, the 12th of October, 1492. After some months spent in exploring the delightful regions, now for the first time thrown open to the eyes of a European, he embarked in the month of January, 1493, for Spain. One of his vessels had previously foundered, and another had deserted him. so that he was left alone to retrace his course across the Atlantic.

Barcelona (bar så lo' nå).- Sovereign (sův'er in)

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