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assisted in accomplishing the destruction of the Roman empire! In short, Cæsar's views were not of that enlarged nature which could entitle him to the name of a great politician; for he studied, not the happiness and interest 5 of a community, but merely his own advancement, which he accomplished-by violating the laws, and destroying the liberties, of his country.

That Cæsar was a great conqueror, I do not care to dispute. His admirers are welcome to all the advantages 10 that result from such a position. I will not subtract one victim from the hosts that perished for his fame; or abate, by a single groan, the sufferings of his vanquished enemies. But I will avow it to be my opinion, that the character of a great conqueror does not necessarily constitute that 15 of a great man; nor can the recital of Cæsar's victories produce any other impression upon my mind, than what proceeds from the contemplation of those convulsions of the earth, which, in a moment, inundate with ruin the plains of fertility and the abodes of peace; or, at one 20 shock, convert whole cities into the graves of their living population!

But Cæsar's munificence, his clemency, his moderation, and his affectionate nature, constitute him a great man! What was his munificence, his clemency, or his modera25 tion?—the automaton of his ambition! It knew no aspiration from the Deity. It was a thing from the hands of the mechanician!-an ingenious mockery of nature! Its action seemed spontaneous-its look argued a soul-but ali the virtue lay in the finger of the operator. He could 30 possess no real munificence, moderation, or clemency, who ever expected his gifts to be doubled by return-who never abstained, but with a view to excess; nor spared, but for the indulgence of rapacity.

LESSON CXLIII.-A REPUBLICAN SCHOOL-ROOM.-A. B. MUZZEY.

The success of all human enterprises depends much on the importance attached to them, the dignity they assume in our view, and the associations which circle round themn. The orators of immortal renown, in ancient times, were 5 accustomed to invest the themes they discussed with a peculiar greatness, and to throw a halo of glory around

the occasion that had convened their audience. But there is one assembly, unknown to their days, and compared with which their proudest conventions fade, as the morning star before coming day. It is in the school-room in a 5 republic, the place where, in a land favored like our own, the children of the rich and the poor, of the obscure and the honored, are seated side by side. This spectacle was reserved for a modern age; and if, of old, the thought of that influence, which an eloquent voice may exert over an 10 audience of mature minds, fixed habits, and established principles, was so inspiring, what is not the legitimate effect of contemplating a collection of immortal beings, brought together for the culture of their noblest powers, at the earliest, and, therefore, the most decisive period of 15 their lives?

When I think of the office of one, set for a teacher of those beings, it rises in my mind to a rank which might seem, even to those thus occupied, to be unduly magnified, did I state my own feelings in relation to it. Many 20 look down for the Teacher; they think his work one which almost any individual can perform, and to which neither honor, nor high compensation, rightfully belong. I look up for the teacher, far above gross and perishing interests, up to the clear sky of spirit, intelligence, and 25 character; and of him, who is charged with these sacred concerns, and who is faithful to this great vocation, I can never think otherwise than with reverence.

LESSON CXLIV.-THE ENGLISH

SKYLARK.-SAMUEL

STEARNS.

II.

[Extract from a letter of a young American to his brother.]

London, July 12, 1836.

My Dear Brother, I rose early to enjoy the hallowed hour of devotion. It was my first Sabbath in a foreign land; and a delightful morning it was. The sky was clear, and the air was fresh and balmy. I walked beyond 5 the closely built houses of the town, now closed in silence on their slumbering inhabitants, to spend those halcyon moments among cottages and gardens, fields and hedges all bright with the morning sun, and fresh with the dew of heaven, to be regaled with views as beaute as they

were new, with the fragrance of flowers I had never before seen, and the music of birds whose notes had never before struck my ear and thrilled my heart.

When I had reached the top of a broad, swelling, ver5 dant hill, about one and a half mile from the town, I took my position upon the top of a hedge bank. The town and the harbor were before me; and all around were the neat white-washed, straw-thatched cottages, and blooming gardens, and velvet-like fields, enclosed with green and 10 flowering hedges, and shaded with deep verdant trees, and enlivened with gay birds, which alone, of all animated beings seemed, with inanimate nature, to have caught the spirit of the morning, and to be sympathizing and vying with each other in the worship of their Maker.

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15 I had not stood there long before I enjoyed the principal object of my search. It was the morning lark, rising and singing towards heaven,-just as Jeremy Taylor has so beautifully described it to our imaginations. I could not have had a better exhibition of it. It satisfied, and more 20 than satisfied, my previous, and most pleasing conceptions of it. I saw one rise, and watched its ascent, and listened to its song, till it was entirely above and beyond my sight. I could only hear its note, more soft, more sweet as it was nearer the home of the blest, and the object of its praise, 25 the throne of its God.

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I could think of nothing but of some returning angel, or of some sainted spirit released from its service below and springing from the earth, gaily ascending higher and higher, singing more and more joyously, and resting not 30 from its song or its flight, till it folds its wing and rests its foot by the throne of Him who made it. I could still hear its note, and still I gazed after it, and presently discerned its form, and saw it descend; but its descent was, if possible, more beautiful than its ascent. It returned to 35 earth with such a graceful and easy motion, it seemed as if conscious that it could, at any time, rise again.

I did not intend to give you any description of this hour or of this scene; and you can have no idea of it now. It was altogether the happiest hour I have enjoyed since I 40 left my native land. I returned to my lodgings, satisfied, -filled, and feeling as if I had had a glimpse, and caught a note, of heaven.

LESSON CXLV.-A DIALOGUE: THE DREAM OF CLARENCY

Shakspeare.

[Clarence and Brakenbury in the Tower.] Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-da Clarence. Oh! I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian, faithful man, 5 I would not spend another such a night, Though 't were to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time.

10

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I

me.

pray you teli

Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster;
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches; thence we looked towards England,
15 And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
20 Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

O Lord! methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
25 Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea.

30 Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes,
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 't were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,

35

And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. *
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death,

To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth

5

To seek the empty vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony ?
Clar. Oh! no, my dream was lengthened after life.
Oh! then began the tempest to my soul!

I passed, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

10 The first that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud, What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?
And so he vanished: Then came wandering by
15 A chadow like an angel, with bright hair

Dabbled in blood; and he shrieked out aloud,
Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjured Clarence—
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury;
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!
20 With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell:
25 Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these tnings,-
That now give evidence against my soul,

30 For Edward's sake, and, see, how he requites me!
O, God, if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone;

Oh! spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!

35 I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest

[Clarence reposes on a chair.

Sorrow breaks seasons; and reposing hours

Make the night morning, and the noon-tide night.

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