Uncle Dan'l's Apparition and Prayer...S. L. Clemens & C. D. Warner. X.

24

........... Charles Dickens. X.

79

Warning to the Intemperate...

What Ailed "Ugly Sam,"..

Charles Lamb. xi.

193

Yankee and the Dutchman's Dog, The...........

ix.

74

Part Ninth.

100

CHOICE SELECTIONS

No. 9.

SINCERITY THE SOUL OF ELOQUENCE.-GOETHE.

How shall we learn to sway the minds of men
By eloquence?-to rule them, or persuade?—
Do you seek genuine and worthy fame?
Reason and honest feeling want no arts
Of utterance, ask no toil of elocution!

And, when you speak in earnest, do you need

A search for words? Oh! these fine holiday phrases,
In which you robe your worn-out commonplaces,
These scraps of paper which you crimp and curl
And twist into a thousand idle shapes,

These filigree ornaments, are good for nothing,-
Cost time and pains, please few, impose on no one;
Are unrefreshing as the wind that whistles,
In autumn, 'mong the dry and wrinkled leaves.
If feeling does not prompt, in vain you strive.
If from the soul the language does not come,
By its own impulse, to impel the hearts
Of hearers with communicated power,

In vain you strive, in vain you study earnestly!
Toil on forever, piece together fragments,
Cook up your broken scraps of sentences,
And blow, with puffing breath, a struggling light,
Glimmering confusedly now, now cold in ashes;
Startle the school-boys with your metaphors,—
And, if such food may suit your appetite,
Win the yain wonder of applauding children,—
But never hope to stir the hearts of men,
And mould the souls of many into one,

By words which come not native from the heart!

7

CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT.

England's sun was slowly setting o'er the hills so far away, Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day; And the last rays kiss'd the forehead of a man and maiden fair, He with step so slow and weakened, she with sunny, floating hair;

He with sad bowed head, and thoughtful, she with lips so cold and white,

Struggling to keep back the murmur," Curfew must not ring to-night."

"Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old,

With its walls so dark and gloomy,-walls so dark, and damp, and cold,

"I've a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die, At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. Cromwell will not come till sunset," and her face grew strangely white,

As she spoke in husky whispers, "Curfew must not ring tonight."

"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton-every word pierced her young heart

Like a thousand gleaming arrows-like a deadly poisoned dart;

"Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that gloomy shadowed tower;

Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour;
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right,
Now I'm old, I will not miss it; girl, the Curfew rings to-
night!"

Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow,

And within her heart's deep centre, Bessie made a solemn vow; She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh,

"At the ringing of the Curfew-Basil Underwood must die." And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bright

One low murmur, scarcely spoken-"Curfew must not ring to-night!"

She with light step bounded forward, sprang within the old church door,

Left the old man coming slowly, paths he'd trod so oft before;