Snatched to her leaping heart the boy! the Russian's iron grasp

But no

Again undid the mother's clasp.
Forward she fell, with one long cry
Of more than mother's agony.

But the brave child is roused at length,
And breaking from the Russian's hold,
He stands, a giant in the strength
Of his young spirit, fierce and bold.

Proudly he towers, his flashing eye,
So blue and fiercely bright,
Seems lighted from the eternal sky,
So brilliant is its light.

His curling lips and crimson cheeks
Foretell the thought before he speaks.
With a full voice of proud command
He turns upon the wondering band.

"Ye hold me not! no, no, nor can;
This hour has made the boy a man.
The world shall witness that one soul
Fears not to prove itself a Pole.

My soul is cramped — unbowed, unbent,
I've still within me ample power

To free myself this very hour.

This dagger in my heart! and then,

Where is your boasted power, base men?"

He drew aside his broidered vest,

And there, like slumbering serpent's crest,
The jewelled haft of a poniard bright,
Glittered a moment on the sight.

"Ha! start ye back? Fool! coward! knave!

Think ye my noble father's glave,

Could drink the life blood of a slave?

The pearls that on the handle flame,
Would blush to rubies in their shame.

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The blade would quiver in thy breast,
Ashamed of such ignoble rest!

No; thus I rend thy tyrant's chain,
And fling him back a boy's disdain !"

A moment, and the funeral light
Flashed on the jewelled weapon bright:
Another, and his young heart's blood
Leaped to the floor a crimson flood.
Quick to his mother's side he sprang,
And on the air his clear voice rang-
"Up, mother, up! I'm free! I'm free!
The choice was death or slavery;
Up! mother, up! look on my face
I only wait for thy embrace.

One last, last word

a blessing, one,
To prove thou knowest what I have done,
No look! No word! Canst thou not feel
My warm blood o'er thy heart congeal?
Speak, mother, speak - lift up thy head.
What, silent still? Then art thou dead!
Great God, I thank thee! Mother, I
Rejoice with thee, and thus to die."
Slowly he falls. The clustering hair
Rolls back and leaves that forehead bare.
One long, deep breath, and his pale head
Lay on his mother's bosom, dead.

Shakespeare, Goldsmith, Keats, and Hood,
Franklin, Jerrold, Burns, and Gifford,
Had to toil as we, for food.

Yes these men with minds majestic,

Sprang from ranks the rich call poor,
Cast a halo round brown labor, -

Had to wrestle, fight, endure.

Forward, then! bright eyes are beaming;
Fight, nor lose the conqueror's crown!
Stretch thy right hand, seize thy birthright,

Take it, wear it, 'tis thine own!
Slay the giants which beset thee,
Rise to manhood, glory, fame;

Take thy pen, and in the volume
Of the gifted write thy name!

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XXXV.

THE PERSONAL CHARACTER OF ABRAHAM

LINCOLN.

REV. C. H. FOWLER- - APRIL, 1865.

I stand to-day in the shadow of the coffin of Abraham Lincoln. What best can I say concerning his character? The analysis of his character is difficult on account of its symmetry; its comprehension is impossible, on account of its greatness. The foundation upon which this character was built was his moral sense, coming out in absolute truthfulness. This gave him marvelous moral uprightness, kept him unseduced by the temptations of his profession, untainted by the corruptions of politics, and unblamable in public administration. The ruling, all-controlling characteristic of his mind was his accurate, massive, iron-armed reason. Every element of his being, even his

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passion and compassion, and every act of his life was in mos! rigid submission to his moral sense and reason. He arrived at his conclusions not by intuition, but by argument. This made him appear slow in difficult questions, but it gave him all the certainty of logic. Once arrived at a decision, he could not be moved from it. His mental constitution and habits of thought underlaid his felt consciousness of honor. This made inevitable that firmness which was more than equal to every emergency, and which has so amazed the world. His imaginative and speculative faculties were of great native strength; but they were so subjected to his reason that they only served to suggest causes of action in unprecedented difficulties, and illustrate by condensed, incarnated argument the correctness of his position. His caution, that might have been a fault, was balanced by the certainty of his reason, and produced only a wise prudence. His whole character was rounded out into remarkable practical common sense. Thus his moral sense, his reason, and his common sense were the three fixed points through which the perfect circle of his character was drawn, the sacred trinity of his great manhood. He incarnated the ideal Republic, and was the living personification of the divine idea of free government. No other man ever so fully realized the people's idea of a ruler. He was our President - the great Commander. The classics of the schools might have polished him, but they would have separated him from us. A child of the people, he was as accessible in the splendors of the White House as in the lowly cabin. He stands before us as no man ever stood, the embodi

ment of the people. Coming among us, President in troublous times, the grasp, the accuracy, the activity of his intellect soon placed him at the head of the world's statesmen. He rallied about him the strong men of the land and showed them he was their master. Everywhere he controlled men according to his purpose. Once arrived at a decision he was there forever. He was firm because he knew he was right. He put men up or down regardless of their popularity. Congress had always deferred to his judgment, and the end in every event justified his decisions. As a statesman he was without a peer in the world or in history.

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His goodness is said to have made him weak. It was the highest exhibition of his strength. He was mercy mailed in justice. He was the most magnanimous man of the time. Yesterday he said of inevitable defeat, “I am responsible.” To-day he said of triumph, "The glory is not mine." He was the noblest man that ever came in the tide of time.

XXXVII.

THE AMERICAN UNION.

KOSSUTH.

He who sows the wind will reap the storm. History is the revelation of Providence. The Almighty rules, by eternal laws, not only the material but the moral world; and every law is a principle, and every principle is a law. Men, as well as nations, are endowed with free will to choose a principle, but that once chosen, the consequences must be abided. With self-government is freedom, and with freedom is justice and patriotism. With centralization is ambition, and with ambition dwells despotism. Happy your great country, sir, for being so warmly addicted to that great principle of self-government. Upon this foundation your fathers raised a home to freedom more glorious than the world has ever seen. Upon this foundation you have developed it to a living wonder of the world. Happy your great country, sir, that it was selected, by the blessing of the Lord, to prove the glorious practicability of a federative union of many sovereign states, all conserving their state rights and their self-government, and yet united in one-every star beaming with its own lustre, but altogether one constellation on mankind's canopy.

Upon this foundation your free country has grown to a prodigious power in a surprisingly brief period. You have attracted power, in that your fundamental principles have conquered more in seventy-five years than Rome by arms in centuries. Your principles will conquer the world. By the glorious ex