The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair;
They, for their lost Adonis, may mistake
Thy dainty form,-

Dav. Peace, thou unhallowed railer!
O tell it not in Gath, nor let the sound
Reach Askelon, how once your slaughtered lords,
By mighty Samson, found one common grave!
When his broad shoulders the firm pillars heaved,
And to its base the tottering fabric shook.

Gol. Insulting boy! perhaps thou hast not heard
The infamy of that inglorious day,

When your weak hosts at Ebenezer pitched

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 the 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. Then Philistia,
Idolatrous Philistia, flew for succor

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 fame, 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
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,

my victorious arm. This day I mean

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 LXVIII.

THE CLAIMS OF ANCESTRY.- DEWEY.

[See Rule 12, p. 131.]

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 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 and signally favored, demands of us a proportionate improvement. We are in our infancy, it is true, but our existence began in an intellectual maturity.

6. Our fathers' virtues were the virtues of the wilderness, - yet without its wilderness; hardy, and vigorous, and severe, indeed, but not rude, nor mean. Let us beware,

more abun

lest we become more prosperous than they,dant in luxuries and refinements,—only to be less temper

ate, upright, and religious. Let us beware, lest the stern and lofty features of primeval rectitude, should be regarded with less respect among us. Let us beware, lest their piety should fall with the oaks of their forests; lest the loosened bow of early habits and opinions which was once strung in the wilderness, should be too much relaxed.

A PROCLAMATION* TO SOUTH CAROLINA. - JACKSON.

[In this piece, the reader may point out the examples of a succession of particulars, and tell how they should be read.]

1. Fellow-citizens of my native State! let me not only admonish you, as the first magistrate of our common country, not to incur the penalty of its laws, but use the influence that a father would over his children whom he saw rushing to certain ruin. In that paternal language, with that paternal feeling, let me tell you, my countrymen, that you are deluded by men, who either are deceived themselves, or wish to deceive you. Mark under what pretenses you have been led on to the brink of insurrection and treason, on which you stand! Look back at the acts which have brought you to this state, look forward to the consequences, to which it must inevitably lead!

2. And something more is necessary. Contemplate the condition of that country of which you still form an important part! Consider its government, uniting in one bond of common interest and general protection, so many different States; giving to all their inhabitants the proud title of American citizens; protecting their commerce; securing

*This preclamation was issued to allay the difficulties in South Carolina, in relation to its secession from the Union, Deo 10, 1882.