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Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though thy clime -
Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed
With dripping rains, or withered by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies,
And fields without a flower, for warmer France
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.”


Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells
In heads replete with thoughts of other men;
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass,
The mere materials with which Wisdom builds,
Till smoothed and squared, and fitted to its place,
Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,

But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say—“My Father made them all!



In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers,
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
What!-will a man play tricks,—will he indulge
A silly fond conceit of his fair form,
And just proportion, fashionable mien,
And pretty face, in presence of his God?
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes,
As with the diamond on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes,
When I am hungry for the bread of life?
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames
His noble office, and, instead of truth,
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock.



Where men of judgment creep and feel their way,
The positive pronounce without dismay;
Their want of light and intellect, supplied
By sparks absurdity strikes out of pride.
Without the means of knowing right from wrong,
They always are decisive, clear, and strong ;
Where others toil with philosophic force,
Their nimble nonsense takes a shorter course;
Flings at your head conviction in the lump,
And gains remote conclusions at a jump:

Their own defect invisible to them,
Seen in another, they at once condemn;
And, though self-idolized in every case,
Hate their own likeness in a brother's face.


LOUIS KOSSUTR, the celebrated Hungarian exile, was born in the village of Monok, county of Zemplen, April 27th, 1802. During his visit to the United States, where he arrived in December, 1851, he was everywhere

received with the most flattering distinctions. At a banquet given him by • the members of Congress, at which he was addressed by General Cass, Daniel

Webster, and others, he opened his speech with the following beautiful parallel.

CIN' E as was the warm friend and minister of Pyrrhus, the famous king of Epirus. He was the most eloquent man of his day. Pyrrhus used to say that “the words of Cineas had won him more cities than his own arms." The most famous event of his life is his embassy to Rome, with proposals for peace from Pyrrhus to the Senate. This was in the year before Christ 280. When he returned, he told the king that there was no people like the Romans,—that their city was a temple, and their Senate an assembly of kings.


LOUIS KOSSUTA. 1. SIR :-As once Cineas, the Epirote, stood among the senators of Rome, who, with a word of self-conscious majesty, arrested kings in their ambitious march, thus, full of admiration and of reverence, I stand among you, legislators of the new capitel, that glorious hall of your people's collective majesty. The capitol of old yet stands, but the spirit has departed from it, and is come over to yours, purified by the air of liberty. The old stands, a mournful monument of the fragility of human things; yours, as a sanctuary of eternal right. The old beamed with the red luster of conquest, now darkened by the gloom of oppression; yours is bright with freedom. The old absorbed the world into its own centralized glory; yours protects your own nation from being absorbed, even by itself. The old was awful with unrestricted power; yours is glorious by having restricted it. At the view of the old, nations trembled; at the view of yours, humanity hopes.

2. To the old, misfortune was introduced with fettered hands to kneel at triumphant conquerors' feet; to yours, the triumph of introduction is granted to unfortunate exiles, who are invited to the honor of a seat. And, where kings and Cæsars never will be hailed for their power and wealth, there the persecuted chief of a down-trodden nation is welcomed, as your great Republic's guest, precisely because he is persecuted, helpless, and poor. In the old, the terrible voe victis !* was the rule; in yours, protection to the oppressed, malediction to ambitious oppressors, and consolation to a vanquished just cause. And, while from the old a conquered world was ruled, you in yr ars provide for the common federative interests of a territory larger than that old conquered world. There sat men boasting that their will was sovereign of the earth; here sit men whose glory is to acknowledge “the laws of nature and nature's God, and to do what their sovereign, the people, wills. .


GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, second bishop of the Protest at Episcopal Church in the state of New Jersey, was born at Trenton, in that state, in 1799, and died at Burlington in 1859. His contributions to literature are large and elegant, both in prose and poetry. The following admirable sketch of the class of men fit to make a state, is from 080 of his wollege addresses. THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE

GEORGE W. DOANR. 1. THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE INTELLIGENT MEN. I do not mean that they must know that two and two make four; or, that six per cent. a year is half per cent. a month. I take a wider and a higher range. I limit myself to

* Woe to the conquered.

no mere utilitarian intelligence. This has its place. And this will come almost unsought. The contact of the rough and rugged world will force men to it in self-defense. The lust of worldly gain will drag men to it for self-aggrandizement. But men so made, will never make a state. The intelligence which that demands, will take a wider and a higher range. Its study will be man. It will make history its cheap experience. It will read hearts. It will know men. It will first know itself. What els: can govern men? Who else can know the men to govern men ? The right of suffrage is a fearful thing. It calls for wisdom, and discretion, and intelligence, of no ordinary standard. It takes in, at every exercise, the interests of all the nation. Its results reach forward through time into eternity. Its discharge must be accounted for among the dread respon. sibilities of the great day of judgment. Who will go to it blindly? Who will go to it passionately? Who will go to it, as a sycophant, a tool, a slave? How many do! These are not the men to make a state.

2. THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE HONEST MEN. I do not mean men that would never steal. I do not mean men that would scorn to cheat in making change. I mean men with a single face. I mean men with a single eye. I mean men with a single tongue. I mean men that consider always what is right; and do it at whatever cost. I mean men who can dipe, like Andrew Marvel, on a neck of mutton; and whom, therefore, no king on earth can buy. Men that are in the market for the highest bidder; men that make politics their trade, and look to office for a living; men that will crawl, where they cannot climb : these are not the men to make a state.

3. THE MEN, TO MAKE A STATE, MUST BE BRAVE MEN. I do not mean the men that pick a quarrel. I do not mean the men that carry dirks. I do not mean the men that call them. selves hard names; as Bouncers, Killers, and the like. I mean the men that walk with open face and unprotected breast. I mean the men that do, but do not talk. I mean the men that dare to stand alone. I mean the men that are to-day where they were yesterday, and will be there to-morrow. I mean the

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