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READINGS, RECITATIONS, AND DIALOGUES.

749. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MINISTER, A SON

OP TEMPERANCE, AND A TAVERN KEEPER. (Estered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, by C. P. Bronson, in the Clerk's Othce of the District Court of Kentucky.1

Minister. I have never had but one opinion on this subject, and that is adverse to your great Movements," as you call them.

Son of Temperance. (With surprise.) Adverse!

M. That is the word I have used.

S. of T. You surprise me. Of all others, I would expect to find, in the Minister of the Gospel, the advocate of Temperance.

M. I am the advocate of Temperance. S. of T. And, yet, you do not approve our action in this.cause.

M. I do not.

S. of T. Why so, sir?

M. Your pledge is based upon a simple human resolution. Now, I acknowledge no reforming power, but the grace of God. Build the foundations of your Order upon religious principles, and then I will have confidence therein. But, so long as all depends on the unsustained, unregenerated will of man, there is no safety. Human resolutions may appear very strong for a tune; but, so long as they are unsustained by the silver cords of divine truth, and the golden bands of divine love, they may be broken at any moment Your pledges and associations are but external bonds, in danger of being severed at any time, that inward struggling, self-love, selfinterest, appetite, or unsubdued passion regain strength; but, religion is an attraction that draws from the centre of a man's life, and holds all in permanent integrity. Your "moral suasion," depend upon it, is of little value; I believe only in religious "suasion."

S. of T. What do you mean by religious? M. A change of heart, wrought by the grace of God. Such a change is worth a thousand pledges. The new man is freed from the shackles of old appetites and pas sions; he is washed from his impurities; he has left the fiery streams of sin, and drinks, now, only of the waters of life.

S. of T. But, how is a drunkard to begin to be religions?

Tavern Keeper. I knew several of these men, Parson B., who have been saved by your religious "suasion," as you call it.

M. Well? What of them?

Tav. Keep. Out of six, who joined the Church, four drink at my bar as freely as ever; two keep sober, but one of these is a bigger rascal than he was before. These are facts; and no one should be afraid to look at facts. So much for your pledges, and so much for your religion! I wouldn't give

much for either.

M. Nor would I give much for your hopes of heaven, friend Tavern Keeper. You mustn't be angry with me, for speaking the truth.

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S. of T. Let us not, by any thing offen sively personal, disturb, on this occasion, the balance of each other's minds. We three. all men of some experience, look upon the great of observation. temperance movement, from different points him, in a peculiar light, and comes to his Each sees what is before conclusions through a different course of reasoning. No harm can, and some good may, arise, from an interchange of ideas.

Tav. Keep. So I think. And, if you, gentlemen, wish to converse on the subject of Temperance, I am willing to give you the benefit of my conclusions on the subject.

M. Suppose, then, friend Tavern Keeper, you give us your views about Temperance.

Tav. Keep. Well; my view, to speak frankly, is, that neither ministers nor tem half the good they might do. perance men, as a general thing, are doing

S. of T. Indeed! how so?

from prejudice, in what I say. It was but Tar. Keep. I do not speak lightly, nor natural, that, from my relation to this move. ment, I should, from the beginning, assume an attitude of observation. At first, I was rather alarmed. You attacked the enemy so vigorously, and carried point after point, with such indomitable bravery, that I really began to fear for my own position: and there was a period, when, blinded by self-interest, and angry with the sweeping denunciations hurled at the heads of tavern keepers, I would, had it been in my power, have crushed the very heart out of your salutary reform. That feeling, however, in time, passed away, and was followed by a better state of mind. I was still a careful observer; yet, with my sympathies all on your side.

S. of T. And still continued in the traffic? remark.) It was not long, however, before I Tav. Keep. (Not appearing to notice this error. saw, that your system had in it a most fatal

S. of T. Ah! And pray what was this

error?

Tav. Keep. You took from the clinging vine its old support, yet failed to furnish another of adequate strength.

M. You are right there, friend Tavern Keeper: this I have always said.

S. of T. We procured employment for the reformed inebriate. We organized associations, in which he might act with his fellow man, and find others to lean upon in his weakness; others, who would encourage begun. We interested his sympathies in the him to persevere in the good work he had poor drunkard, and sent him forth into the highways and by ways, the lanes and the alleys, on missions of mercy.

went on bravely.
Tav. Keep. And, for a while, everything

M. But, all was done in the strength of mere human resolutions; and these are, in Tar. Keep. The truth, as seen from your bruised reed. times of strong temptations, wenker than the point of view. Not in the least angry. I am who had run well for a season, famted and No wonder, that so mat y, a plain spoken man of the world; I can failed by the way. There is, depend npoa receive, in turn, a good share of plain speak-it, to true reliance upon any system that is not based upon religion. The heart must first

ing.

be changed. Unless reform begins here, all is hopeless.

Tav. Keep. So you ministers all say; and, yet, the pledge has made fifty sober men out of drunkards, where your religion, as you call it, has made one I speak knowingly on the subject.

M. It pains me, to hear any one speak so lightly of religion.

Tav. Keep. Don't misunderstand me. I am no scoffer at God and the Bible.

M. And yet you scoff at religion. Tav. Keep. Don't misunderstand me in this, either. I have only spoken of the value of what you call religion, in reforming the drunkard. Do not construe my remarks into any thing beyond this.

M. What we call religion?

Tay Keep. Your suddenly wrought conversions, I mean. Your washing the Ethiop's skin white in a moment. In this kind of religion I never had any faith: and this kind of religion, let me tell you, never had, nor ever will have, any salutary efficacy, in saving men from the degradation of drunkenness.

M. The Bible is very explicit on this subject. To all men, whether sober or not, it says, "Ye must be born again." Here is the only chance of salvation from evil.

Tav. Keep. I have never questioned this. But I have always questioned your common interpretation of the Scripture annunciation. The Bible regards our natural birth as the type of spiritual birth, does it not?

M. Certainly.

himself, no strength. And with the Church it is no better, but rather worse.

M. Don't say that.

Tav. Keep. It is true. There, everything, I might almost assert, is taken away. The Church excludes all pleasures, as evil in themselves. What ground is there, therefore, for the reformed drunkard to stand upon? M. The ground of trust in God.

Tav. Keep. Good ground, I will own, for those who can trust in Him.

M. All may, if they will.

Tav. Keep. But, there lies the grea difficulty. This willing to trust in God is easy enough in theory, but how difficult de thousands, and tens of thousands, find it in practice. Many seem, for a time, to trust in God; but the result proves, that it is only seeming, Depend upon it, your Church systems, with here and there an exception fail to provide for that very class most in need of its saving influence. You require them to come up to you, but never dream of going down to them.

M. You make broad assertions, my friend Tav. Keep. Yet true, as that the sun shines. The children of this world, as they were eighteen hundred years ago, are still wiser than the children of light. They go down to the level of the ignorant, the sensual, and the debased, and hold them where they are, by ministering to what is in them. But the children of light," as the religionists of the day esteem themselves, never do this. They offer only mental pleasures and sublime Tav. Keep. And, yet, your new spiritual ecstacies, and condemn all sensual pleasures man is conceived and born in a moment; as evil. Instead of coming down to the coming forth, as it were, in full stature. But, sensual-minded, with pure sensual pleasures, in natural birth, there is brought forth a and, by these, gradually lifting them up, step tender. helpless, ignorant infant, and a growth by step, until, by an almost imperceptible therefrom, with almost imperceptible slow-transition, they are able to elevate them into ness; until, at length, we have the man in full stature. If this is the case. naturally, how can we look for a different order of things spiritually? I am no Doctor of Divinity; but, depend upon it, my friend, you can have no true spiritual man in any other way

S. of T. There is, to my mind, force in what you say; and I perceive some glimpses of a new light breaking in upon me. Without doubt, as experience too amply demonstrates, there is some defect in our system; for, though we can draw multitudes over to our side, large numbers soon leave us for the old enticements. It seems too true, that we take from the clinging vine its former supports. and fail to give another, having equal power to lift up to the breezes and sun-shine.

Tav. Keep. In other words, as Temperance reformers, you cut off from a man, who has sought, for years, his pleasure in sensual indulgence, all his old delights; and, ere a new and higher life is developed, you fail to substitute for him those innocent social pleasures, that he may enter into without danger. You make stirring appeals to his reason and manhood, and all that; while, in truth. he is but a child, weak-limbed, and tottering in the right way. You lift him upon his feet, and say to him, "Walk on bravely, confidently, and all will be well;" and, yet, he has, in

a perception of mental delights, they say to all, in a spirit of self-righteousness, come up to us. But, alas! who of the grovelling crowd are able to go up?

M. What would you have us do?

Tav. Keep. I can say what I think it wise for you to do.

M. Well: what is it?
Tav. Keep. Bring within the pale of the
Church all innocent pleasures.

M. What do you call innocent?
Tav. Keep. Such as do not violate any of
God's commandments.

M. Mention some of them.

Tav. Keep. Dancing, concerts of fine music, exercises in elocution, dramatic repre sentations, and all other modes of enjoyment not evil in themselves.

M. No; never.

S. of T. You are right, friend Tavern Keeper! I see this as I never saw it before. It is too true, that we have failed to provide innocent pleasures, blending the sensual with the intellectual, for those, who, during long years, have debased themselves in things merely corporeal. And this has arisen, mainly, from our desire, as temperance men, to be co-workers with the Churches. We saw, and acknowledged, the power of God in saving men; and numbers of us had faith in

the pledge; only so far as it paved the way for religion, But, afar off, in stately attitudes, stood the Church, with a repulsive, rather than an inviting aspect. It did not come down to help us, but rather rebuked us, for interfering with its exclusive right to save men.

Tav. Keep. Your arch-enemy knows better how to do his work. He understands the power of dramatic spectacles, of music and pictures, of all things that appeal to the senses; and he is daily gathering in his harvest, of those whom the Church neglects to save. Under his particular patronage is the theatre, which you might make so all-powerful for good; and, everywhere, he is seizing upon things innocent, yet despised and neglected by the Church, and making them engines of destruction. But, good morning! I have said a great deal more than I expected to say, at first. Pardon my free speaking; and do not be so unwise as to reject what is untrue, even though it be uttered by a Tavern Keeper. Good morning, gentlemen.

S. of T. Just one word, if you please.
Tar. Keep. Well; speak freely.

S. of T. I must also venture upon a plain word or two, before we part. I acknowledge myself your debtor, for useful hints; perhaps I may be of equal service to you.

Tav. Keep. Say on: I am always willing to learn.

S. of T. You seem to have thought a good deal on the subject of temperance. Has it never occurred to you, that, as a vender of liquor, you were doing harm in the community

Tav. Keep. O yes; often. But, then, I have argued, that my giving up the sale of ardent spirits, wouldn't lessen their consumption. Some one else would take my stand, and sell on, just the same as before. And, why, I have asked myself, should I not have the benefit, as well as another.

S. of T. Might not a thief, or robber, use the same argument?

Tav. Keep. Not always; for, if he failed to rob, or steal, in a certain case, his intended victim would, in all probability, go free of

harm.

S. of T. Perhaps so. Still, I do not understand how any one, as intelligent and observant as you are, can reconcile it to his instinctive sense of right, to make gain of that which destroys his brother, body and soul.

Tar. Keep. I doubt, if many who sell liquor, permit that instinctive sense of right, to which you refer, to come into play.

S. of T How can they help it? Tav. Keep. The selfish love of gain rules over most of our impulses.

S. of T. Most true. But, are we just to ourselves, to say nothing of society, thus to permit self-love to overrule these better impulses?

Tav. Keep. I will not say that we are. M. Society is held in its integrity, by the bond of mutual benefits. The farmer, the mechanic, the manufacturer, the artist, are all engaged in promoting the public good. Each works for, and provides, food raiment, or other things needful to sustain life, and

increase the common stock of enjoyment. A few are drones in the hive; spending their days in idleness, and taking from others, without rendering a just return of benefits, And there is yet another class, who are neither producers nor idlers, but parasites, drawing life from the very hearts of the people; who pull down, but never aid in building up, the social fabric. Can you guess the class to which I allude?

Tav. Keep. To do so, would not, by any means, be difficult.

S. of T. It grieves me, friend Tavern Keeper, to adjudge you as belonging to this class.

Tar. Keep. I will not gainsay your judg ment now. To-morrow it will be different. S. of T. Do I hear aright? Will you, indeed, give up this evil traffic?

Tav. Keep. Such is my purpose. For some time, my mind has been approaching this decision. It has been confirmed by our present conversation.

S. of T. You will come over on our side, and help us?

Tav. Keep. I will abandon the sale of liquor. Thus much I owe to society, as a good citizen. Beyond that, I can now pledge myself to nothing. As already said, I do not think either your rule of action, or that of the Church, the surest and best that can be adopted. You do not come down low enough, stooping under the poor debased drunkard, like the mother bird to her fledgings. You do not wisely regard what is in man. You do not come to his senses with enticements, and thus give him the good, opposite to the evil that has been removed. But I have spoken of this already. Good morning!

S. of T. May God confirm you in your good resolutions.

M. Amen.

Tar. Keep. And may he bring to your love of serving your fellows, a higher intelligence; for, rest assured, that both of you have much to learn of the science, by which we are saved from evil.

750. DEBATE CHARACTER OF JULIUS CÆSAR.

N. B. This Debate can be given as a WHOLE, OF any part of it be declaimed by one, or more individuals, according to circumstances.

R. A., Chairman.

THE DEBATERS.-J. G., F. M., R. P., R. G., B. G., F. A., R. V., W. M., R. T., W. S., H. H., F. W.

R. A. Gentlemen. I am happy to see you. Agreeably to the notice of your late worthy chairman, you have assembled to discuss the propriety of calling Cæsar a Great Man. I promise myself much satisfaction from your debate. I promise myself the pleasure of hearing many ingenious arguments on each side of the question, and the gratification of witnessing a contest, maintained with animation, good humor, and courtesy. You are my sureties, and I shall not be disappointed.

The avocations of your late errian have not allowed him to resume his scat -a seat honorable in itself, but more Lonorable from

the dignity with which he filled it. I have been appointed to succeed him.

My first duty is, to bear testimony to the accomplishments of my predecessor; to his eloquence, his disinterestedness, and his address. My next duty regards myself; and calls upon me to declare my seuse of the honor I enjoy, in having been appointed to this station. My last duty-and one that I discharge with great diffidence-is, to present you with a few observations that have reference to the occasion of your being assembled.

You are assembled, gentlemen, to discuss the merits of a man, whose actions are connected with some of the most interesting events in Roman story. You have given the subject due consideration. You come prepared for the contest; and I shall not presume to offer any opinion, respecting the ground which either side ought to take. My remarks shall be confined to the study of Oratory; and, allow me to say, I consider Oratory to be the second end of our academic labors, of which the first end is, to render us enlightened, useful, and virtuous.

dozen men-men of education, erudition-ask them to read a piece of animated composition; you will be fortunate if you find one in the dozen, that can raise, or depress, his voiceinflect or modulate it, as the variety of the subject requires. What has become of the inflections, the cadences, and the modulation, of the infant? They have not been exercised; they have been neglected; they have never been put into the hands of the artist, that he might apply them to their proper use; they have been laid aside, spoiled, abused; and, ten to one. they will never be good for any thing! Oratory is highly useful to him that excels in it. In common conversation, observe the advantage which the fluent speaker enjoys over the man that hesitates, and stumbles in discourse. With half his information, he has twice his importance; he commands the respect of his auditors; he instructs and gratifies them. In the general transactions of business, the same superiority attends him. He communicates his views with clearness, precision, and effect; he carries his point by his mere readiness; he concludes his treaty, before another kind of man would have well set about it. Does he plead the cause of friendship? how happy is his friend! Of charity? how fortunate is the distressed? Should he enter the Senate of his country, he gives strength to the party which he espouses; If we consider the very early period at should he be independent of party, he is a which we begin to exercise the faculty of party in himself. If he advocates the cause speech, and the frequency with which we of liberty, he deserves to be the people's exercise it, it must be a subject of surprise, champion; if he defends their rights, he that so few excel in Oratory. In any enlight-approves himself the people's bulwark! ened community, you will find numbers who are highly skilled in some particular art or science, to the study of which they did not apply themselves, till they had almost arrived at the stage of manhood. Yet, with regard to the powers of speech-those powers which the very second year of our existence generally calls into action, the exercise of which goes on at our sports, our studies, our walks, our very meals; and which is never long suspended, except at the hour of refreshing sleep; with regard to those powers, how few surpass their fellow-creatures of common information and moderate attainments! how very few deserve distinction! how rarely does one attain to eminence!

The principal means of communicating our ideas are two-speech and writing. The former is the parent of the latter; it is the more important, and its highest efforts are called Oratory.

That you will persevere in the pursuit of so useful a study, as that of Oratory, I confidently hope. That your progress has been, hitherto, considerable, I am about to receive a proof.

Gentlemen, the question for debate.is-WAS CESAR A GREAT MAN?

J. G. Sir, to bespeak your indulgence, is a duty, imposed, no less, by a knowledge of your desert, than by a consciousness of my deficiency. I am unpractised in the orator's art; nor can boast that native energy of talent, which asks not the tempering of experience; but, by its single force, effects what seems the proper achievement of labors, and of years. Let me, then, hope, that you will excel in favor, as much as I shall fall short in merit. Let me presume, that the performance of what I undertake with diffi dence, will be regarded by you with allowance. Let me anticipate, that failure will not be imputed as a crime, to him, who dares not hope success.

The causes are various; but we must not attempt, here, to investigate them. I shall simply state, that one cause of our not generally excelling in Oratory, is, our neglecting to cultivate the art of speaking-of speaking our own language. We acquire the power of expressing our ideas, almost insensibly; we consider it as a thing that is natural to us; we do not regard it as an art: it is an art-a difficult art-an intricate art-government of the universe; what new and and our ignorance of that circumstance, or our omitting to give it due consideration, is the cause of our deficiency.

In the infant, just beginning to articulate, you will observe every inflection that is recognized in the most accurate treatise on elocution; you will observe, further, an exact proportion in its several cadences, and a speaking expression in its tones. Select a

Was Cæsar a great man?" What revo lution has taken place in the first appointed

opposite principle has begun to direct the operations of nature; what refutation of their long established precepts, has deprived Reason of her sceptre, and Virtue of her throne, that a character, which forms the noblest theme that ever Merit gave to Fame, should now become a question for debate?

No painter of human excellence, if he would draw the features of that hero's

character, needs study a favorable light, or
stking attitude. In every posture, it has
majesty; and the lineaments of its beauty are
prominent in every point of view. Do you
ask me, "Had Cæsar genius?"
He was an

orator!

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Had Cesar judgment?" He was a politician! "Had Cæsar valor?" He was a conqueror! Had Cæsar feeling?" He was a friend!

It is a generally received opinion, that un common circumstances make uncommon men. Cæsar was an uncommon man, in common circumstances. The colossal mind commands your admiration, no less in the pirate's captive, than in the victor of Phar salia. Who, but the first of his race, could have made vassals of his savage masters, mocked them into reverence of his superior nature, and threatened, with impuguity the power that held him at its mercy? Of all the striking incidents of Cresar's life, had history preserved for us but this single one, it would have been sufficient to make us fancy all the rest; at least, we should have said, "Such a man was born to conquest, and to empire!"

the Edui, winning to the support of his arms, the strength that had been employed to overpower them. He governs his province with such equity, and wisdom, as add a milder, but a fairer lustre to his glory; and, by their fame, prepare the Roman people for his happy yoke. Upon the very eve of his rupture with Pompey, he sends back, on deinand, the borrowed legions, covering with rewards the soldiers that may no longer serve him; and whose weapons, on the morrow, may be turned against his breast-presenting, here, a noble example of his respect of right; and of that magnanimity, which maintains that gratitude should not cease, though benefits are discontinued. When he reigns sole master of the Roman world, how temperate is his triumph! how scrupulous his respect for the very forms of the laws! He discountenances the profligacy of the patricians, and endeavors to preserve the virtue of the state, by laying wholesome restraints upon luxury. He encourages the arts and sciences, patronizes genius and talent, respects religion and justice, and puts in practice every means that can contribute to the welfare, the happi. ness, and the stability of the empire.

To you, sir, who are so fully versed in the

recount the military exploits of Cesar. Why should I compel your attention to follow him, for the hundredth time, through hostile myriads, yielding, at every encounter, to the force of his invincible arms. Full often, sir, have your calculations hesitated to credit the celerity of his marches; your belief recoiled at the magnitude of his operations; and your wonder re-perused the detail of his successive victories, foliowing upon the shouts of one another. As a captain, he was the first of

To expatiate on Caesar's powers of oratory, would only be to add one poor eulogium to the testimony of the first historians. Cicero, himself, grants him the palm of almost pre-page of history, it must be unnecessary to eminent inerit; and seems at a loss for words to express his admiration of him. His voice was musical, his delivery energetic, his language chaste and rich, appropriate and peculiar. And it is well presumed, that, had he studied the art of public speaking, with as much industry as he studied the art of war, he would have been the first of orators. Quintilian says, he would have been the only man, capable of combatting Cicero; but, granting them to have been equal in ability, what equal contest could the timid Cicero-warriors; nor were his valor and skill more whose nerves fail him, and whose tongue falters, when the forum glitters with arms -what equal contest could he have held with the man, whose vigor chastised the Belgo, | and annihilated the Nervii, that maintained their ground, till they were hewn to pieces on the spot!

His abilities, as a master of composition, were, undoubtedly, of the first order. How admirable is the structure of his Commentaries! what perspicuity and animation are there in the details! You fancy yourself upon the field of action! You follow the development of his plans, with the liveliest curiosity! You look on with unwearied attention, as he fortifies his camp, or invests his enemy, or crosses the impetuous torrent! You behold his legions, as they move forward, from different points, to the line of battle; you, hear the shout of the onset, and the crash of the encounter; and, breathless with suspense, mark every fluctuation of the awful tide

of war!

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admirable, than his abstinence and watchfulness; his disregard of ease and his endurance of labor; his moderation and his mercy. Perhaps, indeed, this last quality forms the most prominent feature in his character; and proves, by the consequences of its excess, that virtue itself requires restraint, and bas its proper bounds, which it ought not to exceed; for Caesar's moderation was his ruin!

That Caesar had a heart susceptible of friendship, and alive to the finest touches of humanity, is unquestionable. Why does he attempt, so often, to avert the storm of civil war? Why does he pause so long upon the brink of the Rubicon? Why does he weep when he beholds the head o' his unfor tunate rival? Why does he delight in pardoning his enemies; even those very men that had deserted him!

It seems as if he lived the lover of mankind, and feil-as the BARD expresses it-vanquished, not so much by the weapons, as by

the ingratitude, of his murderers.

As a politician, how consummate was his If sir, a combination of the most splendid address! How grand his projections! How talents for war, with the most sacred love of happy the execution of his measures! He peace-of the most illustrious public virtue, compels the vanquished Helvetii to rebuild with the most endearing private worth-of their towns and villages, making his enemies the most unyielding courage, with the most the guards, as it were. of his frontier. He accessible moderation, may constitute a great captivates, by his clemency, the Arverni, and ¦ man-that title must be Cæsars! DRONSON, 21

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