Our need was prayer; our supplicating heart VI. Then cheerful grew the sea, the rippling blue VII. The waning day was merging into night, When, by the river's sheltering banks embraced, We saw the fading pencils of the light, As on the shore fantastic shapes they traced. VIII. Anon above the trees, whose misty cones Seemed slumbrous in the shades that round them fell, Swept suddenly, with grand exultant tones, The peal sonorous of an evening bell! IX. Nor near, nor far, but through the twilight dim, Tuned to the theme of some celestial hymn, X. "Praise God!" "Praise God!" rang out the cadence clear That smote the holy stillness of the hour, And our rapt souls, entranced the sound to hear, Thus may XI. it be when life's long voyage is o'er Our anchor dropped in the celestial West That we shall hear from Heaven's sweet bells outpour Glad chimes of welcome to its peaceful rest. B. P. Shillaber. CVI. SNOW POWER. F any one should ask what is the most harmless and innocent thing on earth, he might be answered, a snowflake. And yet, in its own way of exerting itself, it stands among the foremost powers on earth. When it fills the air, the sun cannot shine, the eye becomes powerless; neither hunter nor pilot, guide nor watchman, are any better than blind men. The eagle and the mole are on a level of vision. 2. All the kings of the earth could not send forth an edict to mankind, saying, "Let labor cease." But this white-plumed light-infantry clears out the fields, drives men home from the highway, and puts half a continent under ban. It is a despiser of old landmarks and very quietly unites all properties, covering up fences, hiding paths and roads, and doing in one day a work which the engineers and laborers of the whole earth could not do in years! 3. But let the wind arise, (itself but the movement of soft, invisible particles of air,) and how is this peaceful seeming of snow-flakes changed! In an instant the air roves. There is fury and spite in the atmosphere. It pelts you, and searches you out in every fold and seam of your garments. It comes without search-warrant through each crack and crevice of your house. It pours over the hills, and lurks down in valleys, or roads, or cuts, until in a night it has intrenched itself formidably against the most expert human strength. For now, lying in drifts huge and wide, it bids defiance to engine and engineer. 4. All these thoughts, and a great many others, we had leisure to spin, last night, while we lay within two miles of Morristown, N. J., beating away at a half-mile inclined plane heaped with snow. We look upon the engine as the symbol of human skill and power. In its summer rush along a dry track it would seem literally invincible. comes roaring up towards you; it sweeps gigantically past you, with the wild scream of its whistle, waving the bushes and rustling the grass and flowers on either side, and filling the air with clouds of smoke and dust; and you look upon its roaring course, gradually dying out of sight and hearing, as if some supernatural development of Might had passed by you in a vision. 5. But now this wonderful thing is as tame as a wounded bird; all its spirit is gone. No blow is struck. The snow puts forth no power. It simply lies still. That is enough. The laboring engine groans and pushes, backs out and plunges in again, retreats and rushes again. 6. It becomes entangled. The snow is everywhere. It is before it and behind it. It penetrates the whole engine, is sucked up in the draft, whirls in sheets into the engine-room; torments the cumbered wheels, clogs the joints, and, packing down under the drivers, it fairly lifts the ponderous engine off from its feet and strands it across the track! Well done, snow! That was a notable victory! Thou mayest well consent now to yield to scraper and snow-plough! 22 7. However, it was not our engine that got off the track, but another one beyond Morristown. Ours could not get off nor get along. It could only push and stop. The pushing was a failure, the stopping was very effectual. It kept us till nine o'clock before we reached our destination. 8. In the morning, returning, we gloried over the last night's struggle; and shot down the inclined plane with a comfortable velocity, up which we had vainly toiled in the darkness and snow but so few hours before. 9. In a few weeks another silent force will come forth. And a noiseless battle will ensue, in which this now victorious army of flakes shall be itself vanquished. A raindrop is stronger than a snow-flake. One by one, the armed drops will dissolve the crystals and let forth the spirit imprisoned in them. Descending quickly into the earth, the drops shall search the roots and give their breasts to their myriad mouths. The bud shall open its eye. The leaf shall lift up its head. The grass shall wave its spear, and the forests hang out their banners. 10. How significant is this silent, gradual, but irresistible power of rain and snow, of moral truth in this world! "For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." H. W. Beecher. EXERCISE. 1. All the kings of the earth could not send forth the edict. 2. We look upon the engine as the symbol of human skill and power. 3. Now this wonderful thing is tame as a wounded bird. 4. We shot down the inclined plane with velocity. 5. In a few weeks another silent force will come forth. 6. The victorious army of flakes shall itself be vanquished. THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL. 259 CVII. THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. I. T was a starry night in June, the air was soft and still, I When the "minute-men" from Cambridge came, and gathered on the hill; Beneath us lay the sleeping town, around us frowned the fleet, But the pulse of freemen, not of slaves, within our bosoms beat; And every heart rose high with hope, as fearlessly we said, We will be numbered with the free, or numbered with the dead!" II. 'Bring out the line to mark the trench, and stretch it on the sward!" The trench is marked, the tools are brought, we utter not a word, But stack our guns, then fall to work with mattock and with spade, A thousand men with sinewy arms, and not a sound is made; So still were we, the stars beneath, that scarce a whisper fell; We heard the red-coat's musket click, and heard him cry, "All's well!" III. See how the morn is breaking! the red is in the sky! The mist is creeping from the stream that floats in silence by ; The Lively's hull looms through the fog, and they our works have spied, For the ruddy flash and round-shot part in thunder from her side; And the Falcon and the Cerberus make every bosom thrill, With gun and shell, and drum and bell, and boatswain's whistle shrill; But deep and wider grows the trench, as spade and mattock ply, For we have to cope with fearful odds, and the time is drawing nigh! IV. Up with the pine-tree banner! Our gallant PRESCOTT stands Amid the plunging shells and shot, and plants it with his hands; Up with the shout! for PUTNAM comes upon his reeking bay, With bloody spur and foaming bit, in haste to join the fray. |