Voltaire and Wilberforce................................... Wm. B. Sprague. xix.

Zeph Higgins' Confession...........................Harriet Beecher Stowe. xvii.

Part Seventeenth.

100

CHOICE SELECTIONS.

No. 17.

AMERICA.-W. C. BRYANT.

Look now abroad,--another race has filled
These populous borders,-wide the wood recedes,
And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled;
The land is full of harvests and green meads;
Streams numberless, that many a fountain feeds,
Shine, disembowered, and give to sun and breeze
Their virgin waters; the full region leads

New colonies forth, that toward the western seas
Spread, like a rapid flame among the autumnal trees.

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race;
Far, like the comet's way through infinite space,
Stretches the long untraveled path of light
Into the depths of ages: we may trace,
Distant, the brightening glory of its flight,
Till the receding rays are lost to human sight.

Europe is given a prey to sterner fates,

And writhes in shackles; strong the arms that chain To earth her struggling multitude of states; She too is strong and might not chafe in vain Against them, but shake off the vampire train That batten on her blood, and break their net. Yes, she shall look on brighter days, and gain The meed of worthier deeds; the moment set To rescue and raise up, draws near-but is not yet.

7

But thou, my country, thou shalt never fall,
But with thy children,-thy maternal care,
Thy lavish love, thy blessings showered on all,—
These are thy fetters,-seas and stormy air
Are the wide barrier of thy borders, where,
Among thy gallant sons that guard thee well,
Thou laugh'st at enemies: who shall then declare
The date of thy deep-founded strength, or tell
How happy, in thy lap, the sons of men shall dwell?

KING CANUTE.-W. M. THACKERAY.

King Canute was weary-hearted; he had reigned for years

a score,

Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more;

And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild seashore.

"Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps sedate,

Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks great,

Chaplains, aids-de-camp, and pages-all the officers of state, Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause,

If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws;

If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws.

But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young:

Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favorite gleemen sung,

Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue.

"Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of the Seal.

"Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or the veal?"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed the angry monarch. "Keeper, 'tis not that I feel.

“"Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair:

Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care? Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary."-Some one cried, "The King's arm-chair!"