THE NIGHT BEFORE EXECUTION. I sneered when I heard the old priest complain That heralds his dying and tolls his knell, Of the great jail clock Will attract him more than the holiest prayer Of the ceaseless clock Beat forever through brain and heart, And there are my mother's pitying eyes- Of the ceaseless clock His body is swaying, slowly and free, Will it never be here,-the dawn of the day, But the tick-tock Of the weariless clock, And the tread of the tired policeman's feet At last the deep darkness is melting away I hear the chiming of morning bells, The rattle of carts in the streets once more, Of the sheriff, who comes to the grated door, Of the great jail clock, And the whispered words of the keepers around, What mocking is this in the formal demand, As I march to the sound of the clanging bell, Of the great jail clock, And the voice of the priest as he mumbles a prayer, And the voices that murmur around me there. WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.-CHARLES MACKAY. All his stores of wealth untold,— I would give thee ten times over Great King William from his turret Saw their weapons flash in sunlight, As the squadrons trod the sward ; At my word thy legions gather, At my nod thy captains bend; And a conscience free from stain!" THE DEATH PENALTY.-VICTOR HUGO. I regret, gentlemen, that this question of the abolition of capital punishment-the most important question, perhaps, of all before this body-comes up at a time when we are little prepared for its discussion. For myself I have but few words to say on the subject, but they will proceed from convictions profound and long entertained. You have established the inviolability of the domicile ; we ask you to establish an inviolability higher and more sacred, the inviolability of human life! Gentlemen, a constitution, and above all, a constitution made by France and for France, is necessarily an important step in civilization. If it is not that, it is nothing. Consider, then, this penalty of death. What is it but the special and eternal type of barbarism? Wherever the penalty of death is most in vogue, barbarism prevails. Wherever it is rare, civilization reigns. Gentlemen, these are indisputable facts. The modification of the penalty was a great forward step. The eighteenth century, to its honor, abolished the torture. The nineteenth century will abolish the death penalty. You may not abolish it to-day, but, doubt not, you will abolish it to-morrow; or else your successors will abolish it. You have inscribed at the head of the preamble of your constitution the words, “IN PRESENCE OF GOD;" and would you begin by depriving that God of the right which to him only belongs,—the the right of life and death? Gentlemen, there are three things which are God's, not man's, the irrevocable, the irreparable, the indissoluble. Woe to man if he introduces them into his laws! Sooner or later they will force society to give way under their weight; they derange the equilibrium essential to the security of laws and morals; they take from human justice its proportions; and then it happens, -think of it, gentlemen,-it happens that the law revolts the conscience! I have ascended this tribune to say but a word, a decisive word, and it is this: After the revolution of February came a great thought to the French people. The day after they had burned the throne, they sought to burn the scaffold! But this sublime idea they were prevented from carrying into execution. In the first article of this constitution you have consecrated the people's first thought; You have cast down the throne! Now consecrate its second thought, and cast down the scaffold. I vote for the entire abolition of the penalty of death. TRUTH IN PARENTHESES.-THOMAS HOOD. I really take it very kind, This visit, Mrs. Skinner; I have not seen you such an age. Your daughters, too, what loves of girls! Come here, and kiss the infant, dears! Your charming boys, I see, are home, But, though he lives so handy, (The better for our brandy!) You've come, of course, to spend the day. COEUR DE LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER. FELICIA HEMANS. The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey-church of Fontevrault, where it was visited by Richard Cœur de Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave. Torches were blazing clear, Hymns pealing deep and slow, Where a king lay stately on his bier In the church of Fontevrault. Banners of battle o'er him hung, And warriors slept beneath, And light as noon's broad light was flung On the settled face of death A strong and ruddy glare; Though dimmed at times by the censer's breath, Yet it fell still brightest there; |