But fear not. Resolution inspires self-confidence, brings every power to the same point and moves the soul onward, like a Grecian phalanx:

"What is noble? 'tis the finer portion of our mind and heart,

Linked to something still diviner than mere language can impart;
Ever prompting-ever seeing some improvement yet to plan-
To uplift our fellow-being, and like man, to feel for man.
What is noble? that which places truth in its enfranchised will,
Leaving steps, like angel traces that mankind may follow still!
Even though scorn's malignant glances prove him poorest of his clan,
He's the noble-who advances freedom and the cause of man!"

Ye mothers! teach the principles of true nobility to the lisping one in its cradle, and bid the first pulsations of its little heart to beat music to them. Fathers! breathe them into your sons, and though you launch them upon life's stormy ocean penniless and alone, yet will they flourish like a green bay tree.

Do you ask for exemplars? I point you to Daniel and Paul, to Luther, to Wesley, and to Calvin, to Washington and Lincoln, and hosts of others who have called forth the loud acclamations of the earth and the approving smile of Heaven by their noble deeds.

HOW PERSIMMONS TOOK CAH OB DER BABY.

Persimmons was a colored lad

'Way down in Lou'sianny;
And all the teaching that he had
Was given him by his granny.
But he did his duty ever,

As well as you, it may be:
With faithfulness and pride always,
He minded missus' baby.

He loved the counsels of the saints,
And, sometimes, those of sinners,--

To run off 'possum-hunting, and
Steal "water-million" dinners.

And fervently at meetin', too,

On every Sunday night,

He'd with the elders shout and pray

By the pine-knots' flaring light,

And sing their rudest melodies,

With voice so full and strong,

You could almost think he learned them
From the angels' triumph-song.

SONG.

'We be nearer to de Lord

Dan de white folks-and dey knows it. See de glory-gate unbarred!

Walk in, darkies, past de guard:

Bet you dollar he won't close it!

"Walk in, darkies, troo de gate;
Hear de kullered angels holler!
Go 'way, white folks: you're too late:
We's de winnin' kuller.

Wait
Till de trumpet blow to foller."

He would croon this over softly
As he lay out in the sun;

But the song he heard most often,
His granny's favorite one,

Was, "Jawge Washington
Thomas Jefferson

Persimmons Henry Clay, be
Quick! shut de do';

Get up off dat flo';

Come heah and mind de baby."

One night there came a fearful storm,
Almost a second flood:

The river rose, a torrent swoln

Of beaten, yellow mud.

It bit at its embankments,

And lapped them down in foam,

Till, surging through a wide crevasse,

The waves seethed round their home.

They scaled the high veranda;
They filled the parlors clear,
Till floating chairs and tables
Clashed against the chandelier.
"Twas then Persimmons' granny,
Stout of arm and terror-proof,
By means of axe and lever,
Pried up the veranda roof;
Bound mattresses upon it

With stoutest cord of rope ;
Lifted out her fainting mistress,
Saying, "Honey, dar is hope!

You, Jawge Washington

Thomas Jefferson

Persimmons Henry Clay, be
Quick on dat raft!
Don't star' like a calf,

But take good cah ob baby!"

The frothing river lifted them
Out on its turbid tide;

And for awhile they floated on
Together, side by side;

Till, broken by the current strong,
The frail raft snapped in two,
And Persimmons saw his granny
Fast fading from his view.

The deck-hands on a steamboat
Heard, as they passed in haste,
A child's voice singing in the dark,
Upon the water's waste,-
A song of faith and triumph,
Of Moses and the Lord;
And, throwing out a coil of rope,
They drew him safe on board.

Full many a stranger city
Persimmons wandered through,
"A-totin ob der baby," and
Singing songs he knew.
At length some City Fathers
Objected to his plan,
Arresting as a vagrant

Our valiant little man.
They carried out their purposes:
Persimmons "'lowed he'd spile 'em :"
So, sloping from the station-house,
He stole baby from the 'sylum.

And on that very afternoon,
As it was growing dark,
He sang beside the fountain in
The crowded city park,
A rude camp-meeting anthem,
Which he had sung before,
While on his granny's fragile raft
He drifted far from shore :-

SONG.

"Moses smote de water, and
De sea gabe away:

De chilleren dey passed ober, for
De sea gabe way.

O Lord! I feel so glad!

It am always dark fo' day:
So, honey, don't yer be sad:
DE SEA'LL GIVE WAY."

A lady dressed in mourning
Turned with a sudden start,

War was in the old dominions, and proud Austria's pride and boast

Met, to conquer or be conquered-met the valiant Prussian host.

Flags in Austrian hands uplifted fluttered in the morning breeze;

Flags with Prussian streamers flying cleft the air with graceful ease.

Sweet as silver voice of woman, clear-toned bugles thrilled the air,

Stealing from the morning slumber, drifting through the morning prayer.

Deep-mouthed cannon loudly thundered; far-off mountains caught the sound,

Sending back reverberations through the startled country round.

.Bristling like an angry forest, file on file of bayonets bright, Like a city legion-spired, gleamed before the wearied sight; Swords in strong right hands expectant, eager for the coming fray,

Leaped from burdened scabbards, ready valor's mandates to obey.

Mettled chargers, snuffing battle in the rolling of the drum, Spurned the earth, while proudly marching, for the glory

soon to come.

Friend and foeman, prince and yeoman, side by side that day were found,

Warriors grim and beardless striplings by the same stern fetters bound;

Sweethearts flushing through their roses felt their rounded cheeks grow pale,

Buckling on their lovers' breastplates, that in battle's need might fail.

Austrian wives and Austrian mothers, weeping, made the Papal sign

Crossed their foreheads, crossed their bosoms, kneeling by a saintly shrine.

Prussian wives and Prussian mothers, Lutheran in faith and creed,

Prayed God's blessing for their loved ones, in that hour of direst need.

"Hark! the trumpet now is calling. Soldiers, forward! cowards, fly!

Let no laggard join the columns!-heroes live, or heroes die. Ho, there, standard-bearers, ready! manfully maintain each post;

Once our colors earthward trailing, lo, the day for us is lost!" Boom of guns and crack of rifles, whistling shot and bursting shell;

Then two armies rushed together, with a wild, exultant yell. Right and left, still fast and faster, fell the deadly saber strokes,

As the lightning in midsummer rends the heart of sturdy oaks. Shrieks of wounded men and dying fell upon the tortured air;

Prayers of chaplains, priestly shrivings, rose 'mid wailings of despair.

Morning smiled on two great armies, valiant-hearted for their foes;

Evening frowned on shattered remnants, thankful for the night's repose.

After toil, how sweet is slumber! but the fateful battle din Weary nights of anxious searching for the fallen ushers in. Shall we find them dead or dying-horse and rider both gone down?

66

Theirs fame's ever fadeless laurel, or the tardy martyr crown?"

Austrian seeking brother Austrian heard this plaintive, pleading cry:

"Weary, weary hours I've lain here; help me, help me, or I die!"

Quickly to the moaning soldier with his full canteen he hied; Cooled his parching lips with water, stanched the wound upon his side.

Ha! what curdles all his life-blood, like a cruel, frenzied dream?

On the stripling's leathern girdle see the Prussian eagle gleam!

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