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Madame de Staël in what manner he could most promote the happiness of France. Her reply is full of political wisdom. She said: "Instruct the mothers of the French people," because the mothers are the affectionate and effective teachers of the human race.
The mother begins her process of training with the infa:.t in her arms. It is she who directs, so to speak, its first mental and spiritual pulsations. She conducts it along the impressible years of childhood and of youth, and hopes to deliver it to the rough contests and tumul tuous scenes of life, armed by those good principles which her child has received from maternal care and love.
If we draw within the circle of our contemplation the mothers of a civilized nation, what do we see? We behold so many artificers working, not on frail and perishable matter, but on the immortal mind, moulding and fashioning beings who are to exist forever. We applaud the artist whose skill and genius presents the mimic man upon the canvas, We admire and celebrate the sculptor who works out that same image in enduring marble. But how insignificant are these achievements, though the highest and the fairest in all the department of art, in comparison with the great vocation of human mothers. They work, not upon the canvas that shall fail, or the marble that shall crumble into dust, but upon mind, upon spirit, which is to last forever, and which is to bear, for good or evil, throughout its duration, the impress of a mother's plastic hand.
The feelings are to be disciplined. The passions are to be restrained. True and worthy motives are to be inspired. A profound religious feeling is to be instille1, and pure morality inculcated, under all circumstances. Mothers who are faithful to this great duty will. tell their children, that neither in political nor in any other concerns of life, can man ever withdraw himself from the perpetual obligations of conscience and of duty; that in every act, whether publ ́c or private, he incurs a just responsibility, and that in no condition is he warranted in trifling with important rights and obligations.
They will impress upon their children the truth, that the exercise of the elective franchise is a social duty, of as sɔlema a nature as man can be called to perform; that a man may not innocently trifle with his vote; and that every man and every measure he supports has an important bearing on the interests of others as well as on his own. It is in the inculcation of high and pure morals, such as these, that, in a free republic, woman performs her sacred duty, and fulfils her de tiny
THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY.
[This piece will furnish the reciter with some matchless examples of impas. sioned force, aspirate and guttural qualities, expulsive and explosive forms. He will readily adapt his tones to the sentiment herein expressed; the expression of his face and gestures should indicate anger, scorn, defiance and hatred.]
Blaze, with your serried columns!
I will not bend the knee!
When the tempest muttered low;
The lightning of its blow!
I've scared ye in the city,
I've scalped ye on the plain;
Go, count your chosen, where they fell
I scorn your proffered treaty!
The pale-face I defy!
Revenge is stamped upon my spear,
Some strike for hope of booty,
To see the white man fall;
I love, among the wounded,
Ye've trailed me through the forest,
With his rifle and his spear:
The scalp of vengeance still is red,
I loathe ye in my bosom,
I scorn ye with mine eye,
And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath,
I'll ne'er will ask ye quarter,
And I ne'er will be your slave;
But I'll swim the sea of slaughter,
GEORGE W. PATTEN.
THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING.
Out of the North the wild news came,
Far flashing on its wings of flame,
The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat,
Within its shade of elm and oak
The church of Berkley Manor stood; There Sunday found the rural folk,
And some esteemed of gentle blood.
In vain their feet with loitering tread Passed mid the graves where rank is naught All could not read the lesson taught
In that republic of the dead
How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk,
Decked in their homespun flax and wool;
Where youths' gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid, with simple art,
Wears on her breast, like her own heart,
A bud, whose depths are all perfume;
The pastor came; his snowy locks
"The Lord of Hosts shall arm the right!”
He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
In eloquence of attitude,
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
And, lo! he met their wondering eyes
A moment there was awful pause
When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease,
The other shouted, "Nay, not so.
When God is with our righteous cause;
And now before the open door
The warrior priest had ordered so―
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
And there the startling drum and fife
The great bell swung as ne'er before.
"Who dares?"-this was the patriot's cry,
For her to live, for her to die?"
THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.