the splendor of noon: such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by men. True, it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of heaven, by shedding men's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circumstance connected with the time and place: a thousand ears catch every whisper: a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene,-shedding all their light, and ready to kindle, at the slightest circumstance, into a blaze of discovery.

5. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is false to itself, or rather, it feels an irresistible impulse to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it does not acknowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask no sympathy nor assistance, either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses, soon comes to possess him; and like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in. his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed there is no refuge from confession but suicide, . and suicide is confession.

5. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them,

Volleyed and thundered:
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came through the jaws of death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

6. When can their glory fade?
O, the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred !

LONGFELLOW.

LXXXV.- "EXCELSIOR!"

1. THE shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
"Excelsior!"

2. His brow was sad: his eye, beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath:
And like a silver clarion rung

The accents of that unknown tongue, "Excelsior!"

3. In happy homes he saw the light

Of household fires gleam warm and bright:
Above, the spectral glaciers shone;
And from his lips escaped a groan,
"Excelsior!"

4. "Try not the pass!" the old man said,
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead:
The roaring torrent 's deep and wide!"
And loud that clarion voice replied,
"Excelsior!"

5. "Oh! stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast! "-
A tear stood in his bright blue eye;
But still he answered, with a sigh,
"Excelsior!"

6.

"" 'Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche ! "

This was the peasant's last good-night;—
A voice replied, far up the hight,
"Excelsior!"

7. At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,

A voice cried through the startled air,
"Excelsior!"

8. A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
"Excelsior!"

9. There, in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay;
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star-
"Excelsior!"

LXXXVI.-SOLILOQUY OF KING RICHARD III.
SHAKSPEARE.

1. GIVE me another horse-bind up my wounds-
Have mercy, Jesu-soft: I did but dream!
O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by.
Richard loves Richard: that is, I am I.

Is there a murderer here? No: yes; I am.

Then fly. What! From myself? Great reason, why?
Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself?

I love myself? Wherefore? For any good
That I myself have done unto myself?

O, no alas! I rather hate myself,
For hateful deeds committed by myself.

2. I am a villain: yet I lie: I am not.

Fool, of thyself speak well-fool, do not flatter-
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues;
And every tongue brings in a several tale;
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree,—
Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty!
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me,
And, if I die, no soul will pity me;

Nay; wherefore should they; since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself?—

Methought the souls of all that I had murdered
Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

LXXXVII.-MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC.

SHAKSPEARE.

1. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:

There's not the smallest orb, which thou beholdest,
But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim :

But, while this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it—

Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn;

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,

And draw her home with music.

2. Do thou but note a wild and wanton herd,

Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,

Or any air of music touch their cars,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze,