LESSON CXXVI.

THE TOMAHAWK SUBMISSIVE TO ELOQUENCE.

NEAL

1. TWENTY tomahawks were raised; twenty arrows drawn to their head. Yet stood Harold, stern and collected at bay -parleying only with his sword. He waved his arm! Smitten with a sense of their cowardice, perhaps, or by his great dignity, more awful for his very youth, their weapons dropped, and their countenances were uplifted upon him, less in hatred than in wonder.

2. The old men gathered about him-he leaned upon his sabre. Their eyes shone with admiration; such heroic deportment, in one so young-a boy! so intrepid! so prompt! so graceful! so eloquent, too!-for, knowing the effect of eloquence, and feeling the loftiness of his own nature, the innocence of his own heart, the character of the Indians for hospi tality, and their veneration for his blood, Harold dealt out the thunder of his strength to these rude barbarians of the wilder ness, till they, young and old, gathering nearer and nearer in their devotion, threw down their weapons at his feet, and formed a rampart of locked arms and hearts about him, through which his eloquence thrilled and lightened like electricity. The old greeted him with a lofty step, as the patriarch welcomes his boy from the triumph of far-off battle; and the young clave to him and clung to him, and shouted in their self-abandonment, like brothers round a conquering brother.

3. "Warriors!" he said, "Brethren! "—(their tomahawks were brandished simultaneously, at the sound of his terrible voice, as if preparing for the onset.) His tones grew deeper, and less threatening. "Brothers, let us talk together of Logan! Ye who have known him, ye aged men! bear ye testimony to the deeds of his strength. Who was like him? Who could

resist him? Who may abide the hurricane in its volley? Who may withstand the winds that uproot the great trees of the mountain? Let him be the foe of Logan? Thrice in one day hath he given battle. Thrice in'one day hath he come back victorious. Who may bear up against the strong man? the man of war? Let them that are young hear me. Let them follow the course of Logan. He goes in clouds and whirlwinds-in the fire and in the smoke. Let them follow him. Warriors! Logan was the father of Harold!"

4. They fell back in astonishment, but they believed him; for Harold's word was unquestioned, undoubted evidence, to them that knew him.

LESSON CXXVII.

THE MURDERER'S SECRET.

WEBSTER.

1. THE deed was executed with a degree of self-possession and steadiness, equal to the wickedness with which it was planned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers held him in their soft, but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the window already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon -he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges without noise; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him.

2. The room was uncommonly open to the admission of

light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given and the victim passes, without a struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death? It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; and he yet plies the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poignard! To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! He feels for it, and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished! The deed is done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder-no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The secret is his own, and is safe!

Such a se

3. Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. cret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that Eye which glances through all disguises, and beholds everything, as in the splendor of noonsuch secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by

man.

4. True it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of heaven by shed ding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery: especially in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, everything, every circumstance, connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch ev ery whisper; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the sorne; shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest

circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret.

5. It is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself: it labors under its guilty pos session, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant; it finds itself preyed on by a torment which it dares not acknowledge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sym pathy or assistance, either from heaven or earth.

6. The secret which the murderer possesses, soon comes to possess him. And like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession.

LESSON CXXVIII.

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON.

PHILLIPS.

1. SUCH, sir, is the natural progress of human operations, and such the unsubstantial mockery of human pride. But I should, perhaps apologize for this digression. The tombs are at best a ead, although an instructive subject. At all events, they are ill

suited to such an hour as this. I shall endeavor to atone for it by turning to a theme which tombs cannot inurn, or revolution alter.

2. It is the custom of your board, and a noble one it is, to deck the cup of the gay with the garland of the great; and, surely, even in the eyes of its deity, his grape is not the less lovely when glowing beneath the foliage of the palm tree and the myrtle. Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet, which, though it sprung in America, is no exotic. Virtue planted it, and it is naturalized everywhere. I see you anticipate me—I see you concur with me, that it matters very little what immediate spot may be the birth-place of such a man as Washington.

3. No people can claim, no country can appropriate him; the boon of Providence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and his residence creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convul sion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm passed, how pure was the climate that it cleared; how bright in the brow of the fir mament was the planet which it revealed to us!

4. In the production of Washington, it does really appear as if nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances no doubt there were-splendid exemplifications of some single qualification-Cæsar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Hannibal was patient; but it was reserved for Washington to blend them all in one, and like the lovely chef d'œuvre of the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow of associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfection of every master.

5. As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a veteran, and supplied by discipline the absence of experience; as a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most comprehensive system of general advantage; and such was the