and ruin each other. Let demagogues' come hot from their conclave of evil spirits, "cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war," and do you be mad enough to be those mad dogs, and permit yourselves to be hounded upon us by them.

IV.

60. THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE.

PUNCH.

HO is it that mourns for the days that are gone,

WB

When a noble could do as he liked with his own?
When his serfs,' with their burdens well filled on their backs
Never dared to complain of the weight of a tax?
When his word was a statute,* his nod was a law,
And for aught but his "order" he cared not a straw?
When each had his dungeon and rack for the poor,
And a gibbet to hang a refractory' boor?"

2. They were days when a man with a thought in his pate
Was a man that was born for the popular hate;
And if 'twere a thought that was good for his kind,
The man was too vile to be left unconfined;
The days when obedience, in right or in wrong,
Was always the sermon and always the song;

When the people, like cattle, were pounded" or driven,

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And to scourge them was thought a king's license from heaven. 3. They were days when the sword settled questions of right, And Falsehood was first to monopolize" Might;

1 Děm ́ a gŏgue, a leader of the people, especially one who controls the multitude by deceitful arts; an artful political speaker.

times the joints are drawn out of place.

• Gibbet, (jîb′ bet), a kind of gal. lows, consisting of an upright post with an arm extending out from the

2 Con' clave, a private room or top, on which formerly the worst meeting; a close assembly.

Serfs, (sårfs), servants or slaves. Stǎt' ute, an act of the legislature of a state or country, declaring, commanding, or forbidding something; a special law.

Ràck, an instrument used to inflict severe pain, consisting of a large frame, upon which the body of thesuf. ferer is slowly stretched until some

criminals were hung in chains, and left exposed.

' Re frǎct' o ry, stubborn; resisting authority; ungovernable.

When the fighter of battles was always adored,
And the greater the tyrant, the greater the lord;
When the king, who by myriads could number his slain,
Was consider'd by far the most worthy to reign;
When the fate of the multitude hung on his breath-
A god in his life, and a saint in his death.

4. They were days when the headsman' was always preparedThe block ever ready-the ax ever bared;

When a corpse on the gibbet aye' swung to and fro,
And the fire at the stake never smoldered3 too low;
When famine and age made a woman a witch,
To be roasted ǎlīve, or be drowned in a ditch;
When difference of creed was the vilèst of crime,
And martyrs were burn'd half a score at a time.

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5. They were days when the gallows' stood black in the way,
The larger the town, the more plentiful they;
When Law never dreamed it was good to relent,
Or thought it less wisdom to kill than prevent;
When Justice herself, taking Law for her guide,
Was never appeased till a victim had died;

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And the stealer of sheep, and the slayer of men,
Were strung up together-again and again.

6. They were days when the crowd had no freedom of speech, And reading and writing were out of its reach;

When ignorance, stolid' and dense, was its doom,

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And bigotry swathed' it from cradle to tomb;

But the Present, though clouds o'er her countenance roll,
Has a light in her eyes, and a hope in her soul.
And we are too wise, like the bigots, to mourn
For the darkness of days that shall never return.

W

61. WAR.

AR is the work, the element, or rather the sport and tri. umph of Death, who glories not only in the extent of his conquest,' but in the richness of his spoil. In the other methods of attack, in the other forms which death assumes, the feeble and the aged, who at the best can live but a short time, are usually the victims; here they are the vigorous and the strong.

2. It is remarked by the most ancient of poets, that in peace children bury their parents, in war parents bury their children: nor is the difference small. Children lament their parents, sincerely, indeed, but with that moderate and tranquil sorrow, which it is natural for those to feel who are conscious of retaining many tender ties, many animating prospects.

3. Parents mourn for their children with the bitterness of despair; the aged parent, the widowed mother, loses, when she is deprived of her children, every thing but the capacity of suffering; her heart, withered and desolate, admits no other object, cherishes no other hope. It is Rachel' weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted, because they are not.

4. But, to confine our attention to the number of the slain would give us a very inadequate' idea of the ravages of the sword. The lot of those who perish instantaneously may be considered, apart from the religious prospects, as comparatively happy, since they are exempt from those lingering diseases and slow torments to which others are liable. We can not see an individual expire, though a stranger or an enemy, without being sensibly moved, and prompted by compassion to lend him every assistance in our power. Every trace of resentment vanishes in a moment; every other emotion gives way to pity and terror.

5. In these last extremities, we remember nothing but the respect and tendernèss due to our common nature. What a scene then must a field of battle present, where thousands are left without assistance, and without pity, with their wounds exposed to the piercing air, while the blood, freezing as it flows,

1

Conquest, (kong kwest), that which is conquered or subdued.

2 Rachel, see St. Matthew, chap

ter II.

3 In ǎd' e quate, not sufficient; incomplete; defective.

4 Exempt, (egz &mt), taken out or removed; free; not subject to

binds them to the earth, ămid the trampling of horses, and the insults of an enraged foe!

6. If they are spared by the humanity of the enemy, and carried from the field, it is but a prolongation of torment. Convoyed in uneasy vehicles, often to a remote distance, through roads almost impassable, they are lodged in ill-prepared receptacles' for the wounded and the sick, where the variety of distress baffles all the efforts of humanity and skill, and renders it impossible to give to each the attention he demands.

7. Far from their native home, no tender assiduities' of friendship, no well-known voice, no wife, or mother, or sister, is near to soothe their sorrows, relieve their thirst, or close their eyes in death! Unhappy man! and must you be swept into the grave unnoticed and unnumbered, and no friendly tear be shed for your sufferings, or mingled with your dust?

8. We must remember, however, that as a very small propōrtion of a military life is spent in actual combat, so it is a very small part of its miseries which must be ascribed to this source. More are consumed by the rust of inactivity than by the edge of the sword; confined to a scanty or unwholesome diet, exposed in sickly climates, harassed with tiresome marches and perpetual alarms; their life is a continual scene of hardships and dangers. They grow familiar with hunger, cold, and watchfulness. Crowded into hospitals and prisons, contagion' spreads among their ranks, till the ravages of disease exceed those of the enemy.

9. We have hitherto adverted to the sufferings of ose only who are engaged in the profession of arms, without taking into our account the situation of the countries which are the scene of hostilities. How dreadful to hold every thing at the mercy of an enemy, and to receive life itself as a boon* dependent on the sword! How boundlèss the fears which such a situation must inspire, where the issues of life and death are determined by no known laws, principles, or customs, and no conjecture can be formed of our destiny, except so far as it is dimly deci

Б

phered in characters of blood, in the dictates of revenge, and the caprices of power!

10. Conceive, but for a moment, the consternation' which the approach of an invading army would impress on the peaceful villages in our own neighborhood. When you have placed yourselves for an instant in that situation, you will learn to sympathize with those unhappy countries which have sustained the ravages of arms. But how is it possible to give you an idea of these horrors?

11. Here you behold rich harvests, the bounty of Heaven, and the reward of in'dustry, consumed in a moment, or trampled under foot, while fămine and pestilence follow the steps of desolation. There the cottages of peasants given up to the flames, mothers expiring through fear, not for themselves, but their infants; the inhabitants flying with their helpless babes in all directions, miserable fugitives on their native soil!

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12. In another part you witness opulent cities taken by storm; the streets, where no sounds were heard but those of peaceful industry, filled on a sudden with slaughter and blood, resounding with the cries of the pursuing and the pursued ; the palaces of nobles demolished; the houses of the rich pillaged,' and every age, sex, and rank, mingled in promiscuous massacre and ruin! ROBERT HALL.

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VI.

62. BATTLE FIELDS, OR VULTURES' SHAMBLES.

SI was sitting within a hollow rock, and watching my sheep that fed in the valley, I heard two vultures crying to each other on the summit of the cliff. Both voices were earnest and deliberate. My curiosity prevailed over my care of the flock. I climbed slowly and silently from crag to crag, concealed among the shrubs, till I found a cavity' where I might sit and listen without suffering or giving disturbance.

'Con'ster na'tion, excessive fear. * Děs` o la' tion, act of laying waste; destruction.

'Opulent, wealthy; rich. 'De mŏlished, thrown or pulled down; pulled to pieces.

5

Pillaged, stripped of money or goods by open force; robbed.

° Massacre, (mås ́ a ker), slaughter; destruction; murder.

Căvity, a hollow space; an opening.