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"Here, behold the sacred relics of a man who, long ago, Died at Charleston, on a gibbet, minc'ered by a ruthless foe,— Isaac Hayne, who fell a martyr, laying down his life with joy, To confirm this noble Union, which you wantonly employ Powers, for. virtuous ends intended, treacherously to destroy 1

"When you sign a solemn compact, this blest bond to disunite, Lying here upon your table you should have his bones in sight.

He was born in Carolina— so were you,—but, all in vain Will you look for Treason's stigma—will you seek the slightest stain

On the hand of that pure patriot, the right hand of Isaac Hayne!"

Saying this, the stranger vanished, but the skeleton remained,

And the black and blasting stigma still that traitorous hand retained!

Sinking in their silver sockets, fainter still the tapers gleamed; Suddenly, athwart the chamber, morning's rosy radiance streamed,

And the statesman, wan and weary, wondering, woke—Jot

he had dreamed.

HEARTBREAK HILL.—Celia Thaxtek.

In Ipswich town, not far from sea,

Rises a hill which the people call
Hearthreak Hill, and its history

Is an old, old legend, known to all.

The selfsame dreary, worn-out tale

Told by all peoples in every clime,
Still to be told till the ages fail,

And there comes a pause in the march of time.

It was a sailor who won the heart
Of an Indian maiden, lithe and young;

And she saw him over the sea depart,
While sweet in her ear Uie promise rung;

For he cried, as he kissed her wet eyes dry,
"I'll come back, sweetheart, keep your faith!"

She said, " I will watch while the moons go by."—
Her love was stronger than life or death.

So this poor dusk Ariadne kept

Her watch from the hill-top rigged and steep:
Slowly the empty moments crept

While she studied the changing face of the deep,

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Fastening her eyes upon every speck
That crossed the ocean within her ken:—

Might not her lover be walking the deck,
Surely and swiftly returning again?

The Isles of Shoals loomed, lonely and dim,
In the northeast distance far and gray,

And on the horizon's uttermost rim
The low rock-heap of Boon Island lay.

And north and south and west and east

Stretched sea and land in the blinding light,

Till evening fell, and her vigil ceased,
And many a hearth-glow lit the night,

To mock those set and glittering eyes
Fast growing wild as her hope went out;

Hateful seemed earth, and the hollow skies,
Like her own heart, empty of aught but doubt.

Oh, but the weary, merciless days,

With the sun above, with the sea afar,—

No change in her fixed and wistful gaze
From the morning red to the evening star!

Oh, the winds that blew, and the birds that sang,
The calms that smiled, and the storms that rolled,

The bells from the town beneath, that rang
Through the summer's heat and the winter's cold!

The flash of the plunging surges white,

The soaring gull's wild, boding cry,—
She was weary of all; there was no delight

In heaven or earth, and she longed to die.

What was it to her though the dawn should paint

With delicate beauty skies and seas? But the swift, sad sunset splendors faint

Made her soul sick with memories,

Drowning in sorrowful purple a sail

In the distant east, where shadows grew,

Till the twilight shrouded it cold and pale,
And the tide of her anguish rose anew.

Like a slender statue carved of stone
She sat, with hardly motion or breath,

She wept no tears and she made no moan,
But her love was stronger than life or death.

He never came back! Yet faithful still,
She watched from the hill-top her life away:

And the townsfolk christened it Hearthreak Hill,
And it bears the name to this very day.

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SUMNER'S TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM PENN.

To William Penn belongs the distinction, destined to brighten as men advance in virtue, of first in human history establishing the Law of Love as a rule of conduct for the intercourse of nations. While he recognized as a great end of government, " to support power in reverence with the people, and to secure the people from abuse of power," he declined the superfluous protection of arms against foreign force, and aimed to reduce the savage nations by just and gentle manners to the love of civil society and the Christian religion. His serene countenance, as he stands with his followers in what he called the sweet and clear air of Pennsylvania, all unarmed, beneath the spreading elm, forming the great treaty of friendship with the untutored Indians, who fill with savage display the surrounding forest as far as the eye can reach,—not to wrest their lands by violence, but to obtain them by peaceful purchase,—is to my mind, the proudest picture in the history of our country.

"The great God," said this illustrious Quaker, in his words of sincerity and truth, addressed to the sachems, " has written his law in our hearts, by which we are taught and commanded to love, and to help, and to do good to one another. It is not our custom to use hostile weapons against our fellow creatures, for which reason we have come unarmed. Our object is not to do injury, but to do good. We have met, then, in the broad pathway of good faith and good will, so that no advantage can be taken on either side, but all is to be openness, brotherhood, and love; while all are to be treated as of the same flesh and blood."

These are, indeed, words of true greatness. "Without any carnal weapons," says one of his companions, " we entered the land, and inhabited therein as safe as if there had been thousands of garrisons." "This little State," says Oldmixon, "subsisted in the midst of six Indian nations, without so much as a militia for its defense." A great man, worthy of the mantle of Penn, the venerable philanthropist, Clarkson, in his life of the founder of Pennsylvania, says," The Pennsylvanians became armed, though without arms; they became strong, though without strength; they became safe, without the ordinary means of safety. The constable's stafl was the only instrument of authority amongst them for the greater part of a century, and never during the administration of Penn, or that of his proper successors, was there a quarrel or a war."

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Greater than the divinity that doth hedge a king, is the divinity that encompasses the righteous man, and the righteous people. The flowers of prosperity smiled in the blessed foot-prints of William Penn. His people were unmolested and happy, while (sad but true contrast!) those of other colonies, acting upon the policy of the world,building forts, and showing themselves in arms, not after receiving provocation, but merely in the anticipation, or from the fear, of insults or danger, were harassed by perpetual alarms, and pierced by the sharp arrows of savage war.

This pattern of a Christian commonwealth never fails to arrest the admiration of all who contemplate its beauties. It drew an epigram of eulogy from the caustic pen of Voltaire, and has been fondly painted by many virtuous historians. Every ingenuous soul in our day offers his willing tribute to those celestial graces of justice and humanity, by the side of which the flinty hardness of the pilgrims of Plymouth Rock seems earthly and coarse.

Let us not confine ourselves to barren words in recognition of virtue. While we see the right, and approve it, too, let us dare to pursue it. Let us now, in this age of civilization, surrounded by Christian nations, be willing to follow the successful example of William Penn, surrounded by savages. Let us, while we recognize these transcendent ordinances of God, the law of right and the law of love—the double suns which illumine the moral universe—aspire to the true glory, and what is higher than glory, the great good of taking the lead in the disarming of the nations. Let us abandon the system of preparation for war in time of peace, as irrational, unchristian, vainly prodigal of expense, and having a direct tendency to excite the very evil against which it professes to guard. Let the enormous means thus released from iron hands, be devoted to labors of beneficence. Our battlements shall be schools, hospitals, colleges and churches; our ars*nals shall be libraries; our navy shall be peaceful ships on errands of perpetual commerce; our army shall be the teachers of youth, and the ministers of religion. This is indeed, the cheap defense of the nations. In such entrenchments what Christian soul can be touched with fear. Angels of the lrtrd shall throw over the land an invisible, but impenetrable panoply:

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Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.

At the thought of such a change in policy, the imagination loses itself in the vain effort to follow the various streams of happiness, which gush forth as from a thousand hills. Then shall the naked be clothed and the hungry fed. Institutions of science and learning shall crown every hilltop; hospitals for the sick, and other retreats for the unfortunate children of the world, for all who suffer in anyway, in mind, body or estate, shall nestle in every valley; while the spires of new churches shall leap exulting to the skies. The whole land shall bear witness to the change; art shall confess it in the new inspiration of the canvas and the marble; the harp of the poet shall proclaim it in a loftier rhyme. Above all, the heart of man shall bear witness to it, in the elevation of his sentiments, in the expansion of his affections, in his devotion to the highest truth, in his appreciation of true greatness. The eagle of our country,—without the terror of his beak, and dropping the forceful thunderbolt from his pounces, —shall soar with the olive-branch of Peace, into untried realms of ether, nearer to the sun.

SHELLING PEAS.—C. P. Cranch.

No, Tom, you may banter as much as you please;
But it's all the result of the shellin' them peas.
Why, I hadn't the slightest idea, do you know,
That so serious a matter would out of it grow.
I tell you what, Tom, I do feel kind o' scared.
I dreamed it, I hoped it, but never once dared
To breathe it to her. And besides, I must say
I always half fancied the fancied Jim Wray.

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