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clasp, may be reduced, in their main movements, to various combinations and modifications of the cordial grapple, the Peter Grievous touch, and the prude major and minor. I should trouble the reader with a few remarks, in conclusion, on the mode of shaking hands, as an indication of characters; but as I see a friend coming up the avenue who is addicted to the pumphandle, I dare not tire my wrist by further writing.

EDWARD EVERETT.

EDWARD EVERETT, one of the most eminent of American scholars and rhetoricians, was born in Dorchester, near Boston, in 1794. He entered Harvard College at the age of thirteen, where he graduated in 1811, with a rare reputation for acquirements and abilities. He at first turned his attention to law, but soon decided to study theology, and had been two years in the divinity school at Cambridge, when he was settled as minister of the church in Brattle-street, as the successor of the lamented Buckminster. In 1815, before he was twenty-one years of age, he was elected professor of Greek Literature in Harvard College. Before entering upon the duties of his new office, he visited Europe for the improvement of his health, which had been impaired by severe application to his pastoral duties. He passed several months at Göttingen, where he acquired the German language, visiting also, before his return, most of the countries of Europe. Here he acquired the friendship of the most eminent men of the age. He has subsequently been a member of both houses of Congress, Governor of Massachusetts, President of Harvard University, Secretary of State, and Embassador to England.

9. THE DREAM OF THE REVELER.

I.

AROUND the board the guests were met, the lights above

them beaming,

And in their cups, replenish'd oft, the ruddy wine was streaming; Their checks were flush'd, their eyes were bright, their hearts with pleasure bounded,

The song was sung, the toast was given, and loud the revel sounded.

I drain'd a goblet with the rest, and cried, "Away with sorrow!
Let us be happy for to-day; what care' we for to-morrow?"
But as I spoke, my sight grew dim, and slumber deep came o'er

me,

And, mid the whirl' of mingling tongues, this vision pass'd3 before me.

'Cåre. Whirl (wherl).- Passed (påst).

II.

Methought I saw a demon rise: he held a mighty bicker, Whose burnish'd' sides ran brimming o'er with floods of burning liquor;

Around him press'd a clamorous crowd, to taste this liquor greedy,

But chiefly came the poor and sad, the suffering and the needy; All those oppress'd by grief or debt, the dissolute, the lazy, Blear-eyed old men and reckless youths, and palsied women crazy;

"Give, give!" they cried-"Give, give us drink, to drown all thought of sorrōw;

If we are happy for to-day, we care not for to-morrōw !"

III.

The first drop warm'd their shivering skins, and drove away their sadness;

The second lit their sunken eyes, and fill'd their souls with gladness; The third drop made them shout and roar, and play each furious ǎntie;

The fourth drop boil'd their very blood; and the fifth drop drove them frăntic.

"Drink!" said the Demon, "Drink your fill! drink of these waters mellow;

They'll make your eyeballs sear and dull, and turn your white skins yellow;

They'll fill your homes with care and grief, and clothe your backs with tatters;

They'll fill your hearts with evil thoughts: but never mind!-what matters?

IV.

"Though virtue sink, and reason fail, and social ties dissever, I'll be your friend in hour of need, and find you homes forever; For I have built three mansions high, three strong and goodly houses,

To lodge at last' each jolly soul who all his life carouses.

'Bick' er, a bowl or cup.-- Burnished (bêr' nisht).— Burning (bern ing).— Youths.-' First (fêrst).—a Virtue (vẻrt' yu).—' Låst.

The first, it is a spacious house, to all but sots appalling, Where, by the parish bounty fed, vile, in the sunshine crawling, The worn-out drunkard ends his days, and eats the dole of others, A plague and burden' to himself, an eyesore to his brothers.

V.

"The second is a lazar-house, rank, fetid, and unholy; Where, smitten by diseases foul and hopeless melancholy, The victims of potations deep pine on the couch of sădness, Some calling Death to end their pain, and others wrought to mădness.

The third and last is black and high, the abode of guilt and anguish,

And full of dungeons deep and fast, where death-doom'd felons languish.

So drain the cup, and drain again! One of my goodly houses Shall lodge at last each jolly soul who to the dregs carouses!"

VI.

But well he knew-that Demon old-how vain was all his preaching,

The ragged crew that round him flock'd were heedless of his

teaching;

Even as they heard his fearful words, they cried, with shouts o laughter

"Out on the fool who mars to-day with thought of a hereafter! We care not for thy houses three: we live but for the present; And merry will we make it yet, and quaff's our bumpers pleasant." Loud laugh'd the fiend to hear them speak, and, lifting high his bicker,

"Body and soul are mine!" said he, "I'll have them both for liquor."

1812.

CHARLES MACKAY.

CHARLES MACKAY, LL. D., a British poet and journalist, was born in Perth, He was editor of the Morning Chronicle for five years, and the Glasgow Argus for three. He is an author of considerable fame, ranking among the first si the present British poets, and still writes for the Illustrated London News.

1 Burden (bêr' dn).—' La' zar-house, a house for lazars, or persons affected with nauseous or pestilentia! disease. -- Fåst.- Laughter (låf ter).- Quaff.

PETER

10. PETER POUNCE AND PARSON ADAMS.1

ETER POUNCE, being desirous of having some one to whom he might communicate his grandeur, told the parson he would convey him home in his chariot. This favor was, by Adams, with many bows and acknowledgments, accepted, though he afterward said he ascended the chariot rather that he might not offend, than from any desire of riding in it, for that in his heart he preferred the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition.

2. The chariot had not proceeded far, before Mr. Adams observed it was a very fine day. “Ay, and a very fine country, too," answered Pounce.

3. "I should think so more," returned Adams, “if I had not lately traveled over the Downs, which I take to exceed this, and all other prospects in the universe." "A fig for prospects," answered Pounce; "one acre here is worth ten there: for my part, I have no delight in the prospect of any land but my own."

4. "Sir," said Adams, "you can indulge yourself in many fine prospects of that kind." "I thank God I have a little," replied the other, "with which I am content, and envy no man. I have a little, Mr. Adams, with which I do as much good as I can." 5. Adams answered, "that riches, without charity, were nothing worth; for that they were a blessing only to him who made them a blessing to others." "You and I,” said Peter, "have different notions of charity. I own, as it is generally used, I do not like the word, nor do I think it becomes one of us gentlemen; it is a mean, parson-like quality; though I would not infer that many parsons have it neither."

6. "Sir," said Adams, "my definition of charity is, a generous disposition to relieve the distressed." "There is something in that definition," answered Peter, "which I like well enough; it

1 In the following conversation, which is one of the most exquisite in all novel-writing, the reader experiences a delightful triumph in seeing how a vulgar upstart is led to betray his baseness while he thinks he is most exalting himself; the poor, but virtuous and manly parson, on the other hand, rising and becoming glorious out of the depths of his humble honesty. This is an admirable exercise in Personation-see p. 60.

is, as you say, a disposition-and does not so much consist in the act as in the disposition to do it: but, alas! Mr. Adams, who are meant by the distressed? believe me, the distresses of mankind are mostly imaginary, and it would be rather folly than goodness to relieve them."

7. "Sure, sir," replied Adams, "hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, and other distresses which attend the poor, can never be said to be imaginary evils." "How can any man complain of hunger," said Pounce, "in a country where such excellent salads are to be gathered in almost every field?-or of thirst, where every stream and river produce such delicious potations? -and as for cold and nakedness, they are evils introduced by luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no more than a horse or any other animal; and there are whole nations who go without them. But these are things, perhaps, which you, who do not know the world—”

8. "You will pardon me, sir," returned Adams; “I have read of the Gymnos'ophists." "A plague of your Jehosaphats," cried Peter; "the greatest fault in our constitution is the provision made for the poor, except that perhaps made for some others. Sir, I have not an estate which doth not contribute almost as much again to the poor as to the land-tax; and I do assure you I expect myself to come to the parish in the end."

9. To which Adams giving a dissenting smile, Peter thus proceeded:-"I fancy, Mr. Adams, you are one of those who imagine I am a lump of money; for there are many who I fancy believe that not only my pockets, but my whole clothes are lined with bank bills; but, I assure you, you are all mistaken; I am not the man the world esteems me. If I can hold my head above water, it is all I can. I have injured myself by purchasing; I have been too liberal of my money. Indeed I fear my heir will find my affairs in a worse situation than they are reputed to be. Ah! he will have reason to wish I had loved money more and land less. Pray, my good neighbor, where

Gym nos' o phists, philosophers of India, so called because they went with bare feet and little clothing. They never drank wine, nor married. Some of them practiced medicine. They believed in the transmigration of souls, and placed the chief happiness of man in the con. tempt of pleasures of sense and goods of fortune.

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