the Gauls; the latter, for conquering the Carthaginians under their great leader, Hannibal, who had once well-nigh reduced Rome itself to subjection.

NATIONAL MONUMENTS.

ALISON.

1. It is in vain, that a nation may be encircled with fortresses, or defended by mountains, or begirt by the ocean; its real security is to be found in the spirit and the valor of its people. The army which enters the field in the conviction, that it is to conquer, has already gained the day. The people who recollect with pride the achievements of their forefathers, will not prove unworthy of them in the field of battle.

2. The remembrance of their heroic actions preserved the independence of the Swiss republics, amidst the powerful empires by which they were surrounded; and the glory of her armies, joined to the terror of her name, upheld the Roman empire for centuries after the warlike spirit of the people was extinct. It is this which constitutes the strength and multiplies the triumphs of veteran soldiers, and it is this which renders the qualities of military valor and prowess hereditary in a nation.

3. Every people, accordingly, whose achievements are memorable in past history, have felt the influence of these national recollections, and received them as the most valuable inheritance from their forefathers. The statesmen of Athens, when they wished to rouse that fickle people to any great or heroic action, reminded them of the national glory of their ancestors, and pointed to the Acropolis,' crowned with the monuments of their valor. Demosthenes, in the most heartstirring apostrophe of antiquity, invoked the shades of those who died at Marathon' and Platea3 to sanctify the cause in which they were to be engaged.

4. The Swiss peasants, for five hundred years after the es tablishment of their independence, assembled on the fields of Morgarten1 and Laupen, and spread garlands over the graves of the fallen warriors, and prayed for the souls of those who

had died for their country's freedom. The Romans attached a superstitious reverence to the rock of the Capitol, and loaded its temples with the spoils of the world, and looked back, with a mixture of veneration and pride, to the struggles which it had witnessed, and the triumphs which it had

won.

5. So long as Manlius remained in sight of the Capitol, his enemies found it impossible to obtain a conviction of the charges against him. When Scipio Africanus' was accused by a faction in the forum, in place of answering the charge, he turned to the Capitol, and invited the people to accompany him to the temple of Jupiter, and return thanks for the defeat of the Carthaginians. Such was the influence of local associations on that severe people; and so natural is it for the human mind to embody its recollections in some external object, and so important an effect are these recollections fitted to have, when they are perpetually brought back to the public mind by the sight of the objects to which they have been attached.

6. The erection of a national monument, on a scale suited to the greatness of the events it is intended to commemorate, seems better calculated than any other measure to perpetuate the spirit which the events of our times have awakened in this country. It will force itself on the observation of the most thoughtless, and recall the recollection of danger and glory, during the slumber of peaceful life,

7. Thousands who never would otherwise have cast a thought upon the glory of their country, will by it be awakened to a sense of what befits the descendants of those great men who have died in the cause of national freedom. While it will testify the gratitude of the nation to departed worth, i will serve at the same time to mark the distinction which similar victories may win. Like the Roman Capitol, it will stand at once the monument of former greatness and the pledge of future glory.

EXERCISE XCI.

WHERE SHOULD THE SCHOLAR LIVE!

LONGFELLOW.

1. Where should the scholar live? In solitude or in society? In the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of nature beat, or in the dark, gray city, where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man? I will make answer for him, and say in the dark, gray city. Oh, they do greatly err who think, that the stars are all the poetry which cities have; and, therefore, that the poet's only dwelling should be in sylvan solitudes, under the green roof of

trees.

2. Beautiful, no doubt, are all the forms of nature, when transfigured by the miraculous power of poetry; hamlets and harvest-fields, and nut-brown waters, flowing ever under the forest, vast and shadowy, with all the sights and sounds of rural life. But, after all, what are these but the decorations and painted scenery in the great theater of human life? What are they but the coarse materials of the poet's song? Glorious, indeed, is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. There lies the land of song; there lies the poet's native land.

3. The river of life that flows through streets tumultuous, bearing along so many gallant hearts, so many wrecks of humanity; the many homes and households, each a little world in itself, revolving round its fireside, as a central sun; all forms of human joy and suffering, brought into that narrow compass; and to be in this and be a part of this; acting, thinking, rejoicing, sorrowing with his fellow-men; such, such should be the poet's life. If he would describe the world, he should live in the world. The mind of the scholar, also, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds. It is better that his armor should be somewhat bruised even by rude encounters, than hung forever resting on the wall.

4. Nor will his themes be few or trivial, because apparently shut in between the walls of houses, and having merely the decorations of street scenery. A ruined character is as picturesque as a ruined castle. There are dark abysses and yawning gulfs in the human heart, which can be rendered passable only by bridging them over with iron nerves and sinews, as Challey bridged the Sarine in Switzerland, and Telford the sea between Anglesea and England, with chain bridges. These are the great themes of human thought; not green grass, and flowers, and moonlight. Besides, the mere external forms of nature we make our own, and carry with us into the city, by the power of memory.

EXERCISE XCII.

THE BELFRY PIGEON.

N. P. WILLIS.

1. On the cross-beam under the Old South bell,

The nest of a pigeon is builded well.

In summer and winter that bird is there,
Out and in with the morning air;
I love to see him track the street,
With his wary eye and active feet;
And I often watch him as he springs,
Circling the steeple with easy wings,
Till across the dial his shade has pass'd,
And the belfry edge is gain'd at last.

"T is a bird I love, with its brooding note,
And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;
There's a human look in its swelling breast,

And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;

And I often stop with the fear I feel,

He runs so close to the rapid wheel.

2.

3.

Whatever is rung on that noisy bellChime of the hour, or funeral knell—

The dove in the belfry must hear it well.

When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon,
When the sexton cheerily rings for noon,

When the clock strikes clear at morning light,
When the child is waked with "nine at night,"
When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air
Filling the spirit with tones of prayer,-
Whatever tale in the bell is heard,

He broods on his folded feet unstirred,
Or, rising half in his rounded nest,
He takes the time to smooth his breast,
Then drops again, with filmed eyes,
And sleeps as the last vibration dies.

Sweet bird! I would that I could be
A hermit in the crowd like thee!
With wings to fly to wood and glen!
Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men;
And daily, with unwilling feet,
I tread, like thee, the crowded street;
But, unlike me, when day is o'er,
Thou canst dismiss the world, and soar,
Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,

Canst smooth thy feathers on thy breast.
And drop, forgetful, to thy nest.

4. I would that, in such wings of gold,
I could my weary heart upfold;
I would I could look down unmoved,
(Unloving as I am unloved,)

And, while the world throngs on beneath,

Smooth down my cares and calmly breathe;