Their quick-abandoned tents. Then, when your ark,
Your talisman, your charm, your boasted pledge
Of safety and success, was tamely lost!

And yet not tamely, since by me 't was won;

When, with this good right-arm, I thinned your ranks,
And bravely crushed, beneath a single blow,

The chosen guardians of this vaunted shrine,
Hophni and Phineas. The famed ark itself
I bore to Ashdod.

Dav. I remember too,

Since thou provok'st th' unwelcome truth, how all
Your blushing priests beheld their idol's shame;

When prostrate Dagon fell before the ark,

And your frail god was shivered.

Idolatrous Philistia, flew for succor

Then Philistia,

To Israel's help, and all her smitten nobles

Confessed the Lord was God, and the blest ark,

Gladly, with reverential awe, restored'

Gol. By Ashdod's fane, thou li'st. Now will I meet thee, Thou insect warrior! since thou darest me thus:

Already I behold thy mangled limbs,

Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed
The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well!
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks,
And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds;
Thy lips, yet quiv'ring with the dire convulsions
Of recent death! Art thou not terrified?

Dav. No.

True courage is not moved by breath of words;
But the rash bravery of boiling blood,
Impetuous, knows no settled principle,
A feverish tide, it has its ebbs and flows,
As spirits rise or fall, as wine inflames,

Or circumstances change. But inborn courage,
The gen'rous child of Fortitude and Faith,
Holds its firm empire in the constant soul;
And, like the steadfast pole-star, never once
From the same fixed and faithful point declines.

Gol. The curses of Philistia's gods be on thee!
This fine-drawn speech is made to lengthen out
That little life thy words pretend to scorn.

Dav. Ha! say'st thou so? Come on, then! Mark us well! Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and shield!

In the dread name of Israel's God I come,

The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defy'st!

Yet though no shield I bring; no arms, except
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook,
With such a simple sling as shepherds use;
Yet, all exposed, defenseless as I am,

The God I serve shall give thee up a prey
To my victorious arm. This day I mean
To make th' uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone;
The mangled carcasses of your thick host
Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!

I dare thee to the trial!

Gol. Follow me.

In this good spear I trust.

Dav. I trust in Heaven!

The God of battles stimulates my arm,

And fires

my soul with ardor not its own.

LESSON LIII.

FEMALE INFLUENCE.- CARTER.

1. The influence of the female character, is now felt and acknowledged in all the relations of life. I speak not now of those distinguished women, who instruct their age through the public press; nor of those, whose devout strains we take upon our lips when we worship; but of a much larger class; of those, whose influence is felt in the relations of neighbor, friend, daughter, wife, mother.

2. Who waits at the couch of the sick, to administer tender charities while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness when death comes? Where shall we look for those examples of friendship, that most adorn our nature? those abiding friendships, which trust even when betrayed, and survive all changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustrations of filial piety? Have you ever seen a daughter, herself perhaps, timid and helpless, watching the decline of an aged parent, and holding out with heroic fortitude, to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps to the very borders of the grave?

3. But in no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immédiately and prospectively, as in that of mother. To her is committed the immortal treasure of the infant mind. Upon her devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline which is to form, of a being perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of its great Creator.

4. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes and expands the earliest germs of our intellects. She breathes over us her deepest devotions. She lifts our little hands, and teaches our little tongues to lisp

in prayer. She watches over us, like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares, and her anxieties, on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us, and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth.

5. What constitutes the center of every home? Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sick with disappointment? Where shall the truant and forgetful husband go for sympathy, unalloyed and without design, but to the bosom of her, who is ever ready and waiting to share in his adversity or his prosperity? And if there be a tribunal, where the sins and the follies of a froward child may hope for pardon and forgiveness, this side heaven, that tribunal is the heart of a fond and devoted mother.

LESSON LIV.

THE CLAIMS OF ANCESTRY.-DEWEY.

[See Rule 12, p. 130.]

1. The claims of ancestry, we know, are commonly held sacred, in proportion as its date is removed back into ages of antiquity; in proportion to the number of successive generations that have intervened; in proportion as fiction and romance find aid in the darkness of some remote and unknown period. But, though the character of our fathers needs no such aid, yet I can scarcely conceive any thing more romantic even, than their entrance into this vast domain of nature, never before disturbed by the footsteps of civilized man.

2. They came to the land where fifty centuries had held reign, with no pen to write their history. Silence, which no occupation of civilized life had broken, was in all its borders, and had been from the creation. The lofty oak had grown

through its lingering age, and decayed, and perished, without name or record. The storm had risen and roared in the wilderness, and none had caught its sublime inspiration. The fountains had flowed on; the mighty river had poured its useless waters; the cataract had lifted up its thunderings to the march of time, and no eye had seen it, but that of the wild tenants of the desert.

3. A band of fugitives came to this land of barbarism, with no patronage, but the prayers of the friends they had left behind them; with no wealth, but habits of industry; with no power, but what lay in firm sinews and courageous hearts; and with these they turned back the course of ages. Pilgrims from the old world, they became inheritors of the new. They set up the standard of Christianity; they opened the broad pathways of knowledge; the forest melted away before them, like a dark vapor of the morning; the voice of comfort, the din of business, went back into its murmuring solitudes; the wilderness and solitary place were glad for them; the desert rejoiced and blossomed as the rose.

4. Where the deep wood spread its solitary glooms, and the fierce savage laid his dark and deadly ambush, are now the sunny hill-side, the waving field, and the flowery plain; and the unconscious child holds its gambols on the ground that has been trodden with weariness, and watered with tears, and stained with the blood of strife and slaughter.

5. These are the days, these are the men, that we are called upon to remember and to honor. But it is not enough to remember their deeds; we are bound to imitate their virtues. This is the true, the peculiar honor, which we are bound to render to such an ancestry. The common measure of national intelligence and virtue, is no rule for us. It is not enough for us to be as wise and improved, as virtuous and pious, as other nations. Providence, in giving to us an origin so remarkable.