and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gathered around it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments of its glory and on the very spot of its origin.

NOTES.-The Laurenses were of French descent. Henry Laurens was appointed on the commission with Franklin and Jay to negotiate the treaty of peace at Paris at the close of the Revolution. His son, John Laurens, was an aid and secretary of Washington, who was greatly attached to him.

The Rutledges were of Irish descent. John Rutledge was a celebrated statesman and lawyer. He was appointed Chief Justice of the United States, but the Senate, for political reasons, refused to confirm his appointment.

Edward Rutledge, brother of the preceding, was Governor of South Carolina during the last two years of his life.

The Pinckneys were an old English family who emigrated to Charleston in 1687. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney and his brother Thomas were both active participants in the Revolution. The former was an unsuccessful candidate for the presidency of the United States, in 1800.

Thomas was elected governor of South Carolina in 1789. In the war of 1812 he served as major-general.

Charles Pinckney, a second cousin of the two already mentioned, was four times elected governor of his state.

LXXII. THE CHURCH SCENE FROM EVANGELINE.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-1882, the son of Hon. Stephen Longfellow, an eminent lawyer of Portland, Maine, was born in that city. He graduated, at the age of eighteen, at Bowdoin College. He was soon appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Literature in that institution, and, to fit himself further for his work, he went abroad and spent four years in Europe. He remained at Bowdoin till 1835, when he was appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Belles-lettres in Harvard University. On receiving this appointment, he again went to Europe and remained two years. He resigned his professorship in 1854, and after that time resided in Cambridge, pursuing his literary labors and giving to the public, from time to time, the fruits of his pen. In 1868 he made a voyage to England, where he was received with extraordinary marks of honor and esteem. In addition to Mr. Longfellow's original works, both in poetry and in prose, he distinguished himself by several translations; the most famous is that of the works of Dante.

Mr. Longfellow's poetry is always elegant and chaste, showing in every line traces of his careful scholarship. Yet it is not above the popular taste or comprehension, as is shown by the numerous and varied editions of his poems. Many of his poems treat of historical themes; "Evangeline," from which the following selection is taken, is esteemed by many as the most beautiful of all his longer poems; it was first published in 1847.

So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons

sonorous

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a

drumbeat.

Thronged erelong was the church with men.

the churchyard,

Without, in

Awaited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones

Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the

forest.

Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among them

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant

clangor

Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement,

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers.

Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the altar,

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission.

"You have convened this day," he said, "by his Majesty's orders.

Clement and kind has he been; but how you have answered his kindness,

Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my

temper

Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be

grievous.

Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our

monarch;

Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all kinds

Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this province

Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell

there

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty's pleasure!"

As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones

Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters his windows,

Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the house roofs,

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their inclosure; So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the

speaker.

.Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then

rose

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger,

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the doorway.

Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce impre

cations

Rang through the house of prayer; and high o'er the heads of the others

Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the black

smith,

As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. Flushed was his face and distorted with passion; and wildly he shouted,

"Down with the tyrants of England! we never have sworn them allegiance!

Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests!"

More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier

Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement.

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the

altar.

Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence

All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his peo

ple;

Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and

mournful

Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes.

"What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has seized you?

Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you,

Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another!

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and

privations?

Have you so soon forgotten all the lessons of love and forgiveness?

This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it

Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred ?

Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing

upon you!

See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion!

Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 'O Father, forgive them!'

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked

assail us,

Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, forgive them.'

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of

his people

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate outbreak,

While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, forgive them!"