4.

5.

Scaling yonder peak,

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow:
O'er the abyss his broad expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will,
That buoyed him proudly up!

Instinctively

I strung my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight

Of measuring the ample range beneath

And round about; absorbed, he heeded not

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot!

'T was liberty! I turned the shaft aside, And let him soar away!

1. METHINKS I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore.

2. I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and

now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard; the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow; the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against the staggered vessel.

3. I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and exhausted from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their shipmaster for a draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter, without means, surrounded by hostile tribes.

4. Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated within the boundaries of New England? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this.

5. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labor and spare meals? was it disease? was it the tomahawk ? was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last mo

ments at the recollection of the loved and left beyond the sea?was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined were able to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible that, from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admiration as of pity, there have gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious?

What does the speaker mean by the last words, – fulfilled, so glorious"?

a promise, yet to be

CXVII. — THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.

NEWMAN.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, an eminent English scholar and writer, and a Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church, was born in London, in 1801. He graduated at Trinity College, Oxford.

Cardinal Newman possesses the true poet's gift, but it has been shown, for the most part, in the form of prose. He is a voluminous writer, principally on moral or spiritual subjects. His style is unsurpassed by that of any English writer, in ease, lucidity, and grace.

1. LEAD, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home, -
Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene, one step enough for me.

2. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on:

2

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

3. So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

The Pillar of the Cloud. See Exodus xiii. 21.

CXVIII. THE WORLD OF BRUTE ANIMALS.

NEWMAN.

1. CAN anything be more marvelous or startling, unless we were used to it, than that we should have a race of beings about us whom we do but see, and as little know their state, or can describe their interests, or their destiny, as we can tell of the inhabitants of the sun and moon?

2. It is indeed a very overpowering thought, when we get to fix our minds on it, that we familiarly use, I may say hold intercourse with, creatures who are as much strangers to us, as mysterious, as if they were fabulous, unearthly beings, more powerful than man, and yet his slaves, which Eastern superstitions have invented.

3. They have apparently passions, habits, and a certain accountableness, but all is mystery about them.

We do not know whether they can sin or not, whether they are under punishment, whether they are to live after this life.

4. Is it not plain to our senses that there is a world inferior to us in the scale of beings, with which we are connected without understanding what it is? and is it difficult to faith to admit the word of Scripture concerning our connection with a world superior to us?

CXIX. - SNOW-FLAKES.

HAWTHORNE.

1. THERE is snow in yonder cold gray sky of the morning and, through the partially frosted windowpanes, I love to watch the gradual beginning of the storm. A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere. These are not the big flakes, heavy with moisture, which melt as they touch the ground, and are portentous of a soaking rain. It is to be, in good earnest, a wintry storm.

2. The two or three people visible on the sidewalks have an aspect of endurance, a blue-nosed, frosty fortitule, which is evidently assumed in anticipation of a confortless and blustering day. By nightfall, or at least before the sun sheds another glimmering smile upon us, the street and our little garden will be heaped with mountain snowdrifts.