In the older world, numerous fabrics still exist, reared by human hands, but whose object has been lost, in the darkness of ages. They are now monuments of nothing, but the labour and skill which constructed them.

The mighty pyramid itself, half buried in the sands of Africa, has nothing to bring down and report to us, but the power of kings, and the servitude of the people. If it had any purpose beyond that of a mausoleum, such purpose has perished from history, and from tradition. If asked for its moral object, its admonition, its sentiment, its instruction to mankind, or any high end in its erection, it is silent, silent as the millions which lie in the dust at its base, and in the catacombs which surround it. Without a just moral object, therefore, made known to man, though raised against the skies, it excites only conviction of power, mixed with strange wonder. But if the civilization of the present race of men, founded, as it is, in solid science, the true knowledge of nature, and vast discoveries in art, and which is stimulated and purified by moral sentiment, and by the truths of Christianity, be not destined to destruction, before the final termination of human existence on earth, the object and purpose of this edifice will be known, till that hour shall come. And even if civilization should be subverted, and the truths of the Christian religion obscured by a new deluge of barbarism, the memory of Bunker Hill and the American Revolution will still be elements and parts of the knowledge, which shall be possessed by the last man to whom the light of civilization and Christianity shall be extended.

EXERCISE VI.-DEATH OF DE ARGENTINE.- -Scott.

The scene is that of the battle of Bannockburn, in which Robert Bruce, king of Scotland, defeated the English army under king Edward.

[The metre of this piece requires close attention, to keep the rhythm of the voice from falling into monotonous and mechanical chanting. It is never desirable to hear verse recited in the dry tone of prose. But, in pieces like the following, the teacher's direction to the young student, must often be, 'Keep nearer to the prose tone.'] Already scatter'd o'er the plain,— Reproof, command, and counsel, vain,— The rearward squadrons fled amain, Or made but doubtful stay :

In vain the royal Edward threw
His person 'mid the spears,

Cried Fight!' to terror and despair,
Menaced, and wept, and tore his hair,
And cursed their caitiff fears;

Till Pembroke turned his bridle rein,
And forced him from the fatal plain.
With them rode Argentine, until
They gained the summit of the hill,
But quitted there the train :-
"In yonder field a gage I left,—
I must not live, of fame bereft ;
I needs must turn again.

Speed hence, my liege, for on your trace,
The fiery Douglas takes the chase,
I know his banner well.

God send my sovereign joy and bliss,
And many a happier field than this:-
Once more, my liege, farewell!"

Again he faced the battle-field,-
Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield.
"Now then," he said, and couched his spear,
My course is run,—the goal is near :
One effort more, one brave career,

Must close this race of mine!"
Then in his stirrups rising high,
He shouted loud his battle-cry,
'Saint James for Argentine!'

And, of the bold pursuers, four
The gallant knight from saddle bore;
But not unharmed;-a lance's point
Has found his breast-plate's loosen'd joint,
An axe has razed his crest;
But still on Colonsay's fierce lord,
Who press'd the chase with gory sword,
He rode with spear in rest,

And through his bloody tartans bored,
And through his gallant breast.
Nail'd to the earth, the mountaineer
Yet writhed him up against the spear,
And swung his broad-sword round!
-Stirrups, steel-boot, and cuish gave way
Beneath that blow's tremendous sway,-
The blood gush'd from the wound;
And the grim Lord of Colonsay

Hath turn'd him on the ground,

And laughed in death-pang, that his blade
The mortal thrust so well repaid.

Now toil'd the Bruce, the battle done,
To use his conquest boldly won;
And gave command for horse and spear
To press the southron's scatter'd rear,
Nor let his broken force combine,
-When the war-cry of Argentine

Fell faintly on his ear!

"Save, save his life," he cried, "Oh! save
The kind, the noble, and the brave !"
The squadrons round free passage gave;
The wounded knight drew near.
He raised his red-cross shield no more;

Helm, cuish, and breast-plate, stream'd with gore;
Yet, as he saw the king advance,

He strove, even then, to couch his lance :

The effort was in vain!

The spur-stroke fail'd to rouse the horse;
Wounded and weary, in mid course
He stumbled on the plain.

Then foremost was the generous Bruce,
To raise his head, his helm to loose.
"Lord, earl, the day is thine!

My sovereign's charge, and adverse fate,
Have made our meeting all too late :
Yet this may Argentine,

As boon from ancient comrade, crave,—
A Christian's mass, a soldier's grave."

Bruce press'd his dying hand :-its grasp
Kindly replied; but, in his clasp,

It stiffen'd and grew cold ;—

And, "Oh! farewell!" the victor cried,
"Of chivalry the flower and pride,
The arm in battle bold,

The courteous mien, the noble race,
The stainless faith, the manly face!—
Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine,
For late-wake of De Argentine.
O'er better knight, on death-bier laid,
Torch never gleamed, nor mass was said!"

EXERCISE VII.-SPEECH AGAINST WRITS OF ASSISTANCE.-Otis.

[This exercise is introduced for the sake of practice in the direct tones of actual business, and as a means of avoiding a uniform declamatory swell. To speak such a piece with sustained force and spirit, is an attainment of higher merit, than to recite well the most brilliant passage of poetry.]

May it please your Honours,-I was desired by one of the court to look into the books, and consider the question now before them, concerning writs of assistance. I have accordingly considered it, and now appear not only in obedience to your order, but likewise in behalf of the inhabitants of this town, who have presented another petition, and out of regard to the liberties of the subject. And I take this opportunity to declare, that, whether under a fee or not, (for, in such a case as this, I despise a fee,) I will, to my dying day, oppose with all the powers and faculties God has given me, all such instruments of slavery on the one hand, and villany "on the other, as this writ of assistance is.

It appears to me the worst instrument of arbitrary power,— the most destructive of English liberty, and the fundamental principles of law, that ever was found in an English lawbook. I must therefore beg your Honours' patience and attention to the whole range of an argument that may perhaps appear uncommon, in many things, as well as to points of learning that are more remote and unusual, that the whole tendency of my design may be the more easily perceived, the conclusions better descend, and the force of them be better felt.

6

I shall not think much of my pains in this cause, as I engaged in it from principle. I was solicited to argue this cause as advocate general;' and, because I would not, I have been charged with desertion from my office. To this charge I can give a very sufficient answer. I renounced that office, and I argue this cause, from the same principle; and I argue it with the greater pleasure, as it is in favour of British liberty, at a time when we hear the greatest monarch on earth, declaring from the throne, that he glories in the name of Briton, and that the privileges of his people are dearer to him than the most valuable prerogatives of his crown; and it is in opposition to a kind of power, the exercise of which, in former periods of English history, cost one king of England his head, and another his throne.

I have taken more pains in this cause, than I ever will take

* Boston.

again; although my engaging in this, and another popular cause, has raised much resentment. But I think I can sincerely declare, that I submit myself to every odious name for conscience' sake; and, from my soul, I despise all those whose guilt, or malice, or folly, has made them my foes.

Let the consequences be what they will, I am determined to proceed. The only principles of public conduct, that are worthy of a gentleman or a man, are to sacrifice estate, ease, health, applause, and even life, at the sacred call of his country.

EXERCISE VIII.-BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.-Translated by Lockhart.

[To avoid sing-song tone, is the great point for practice, in pieces such as this, and to give the emotion, with full, vivid modulation.] With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appeared, Before them all in the palace hall,

The lying king to beard;
With cap in hand and eye on ground,

He came in reverend guise,
But ever and anon he frowned,

And flame broke from his eyes.

"A curse upon thee," cries the king,
"Who com'st unbid to me!

But what from traitor's blood should spring,
Save traitor like to thee?

His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart,-
Perchance our champion brave,

May think it were a pious part
To share Don Sancho's grave."

"Whoever told this tale

The king hath rashness to repeat,"
Cries Bernard, "here my gage I fling
Before the liar's feet.

No treason was in Sancho's blood,

No stain in mine doth lie,

Below the throne, what knight will own

The coward calumny?

"The blood that I like water shed,

When Roland did advance,