the South. It would be well if such oppression could cover the whole surface of the known world! Ours is an oppression which makes free; ours a despotism which builds the school-house and the printing-office; ours a tyranny which sets the plow moving in the furrow, and covers the lakes and the rivers with the white wings of commerce. God give the world abundance of such oppression !

7. Worn with fruitless strugglings against us,—dusty and bloody from a thousand fields, with drooping jaws, glazed eyes, and dejected visage, the monster Slavery asks shelter at our feet, repose, protection; space to stretch his weary limbs; time for the exhausted juices of his body to resume their accustomed flow. Spare him but this little while, and once more he will be upon his feet; once more his roar will shake the world; once more his talons will be clotted with the flesh and blood of those near and dear to you and to me and to all of us.

8. God in his infinite mercy spare us such a fate! Let death fall upon the offender, Slavery! This is no wrestling-match which the nation can relinquish and resume at pleasure. This struggle means, and has meant from the beginning, death to one of the combatants. Why hesitate? Death let it be to the conquered! Let Slavery die that the Nation may live!

MORN and BORNE are not perfect rhymes. The o in BORNE is long as in BORE; in MORN, it is short.

See in Index, GUARDIAN, SHORT-LIVED, Mars, Lust.

I.

FLAG of my country! in thy folds

Are wrapped the treasures of the heart;

Where'er that waving sheet is fanned
By breezes of the sea or land,

It bids the life-blood start.

II.

It is not that among those stars

The fiery crest of Mars shines out; It is not that on battle-plain,

'Mid heaps of harnessed warriors slain, It flaps triumphant o'er the rout.

III.

Short-lived the joy that conquest yields;
Flushed victory is bathed in tears;
The burden of that bloody fame
Which shouting myriads proclaim
Sounds sad to widowed ears.

Av.

Thou hast a deeper, stronger hold,

Flag of my country! on the heart, Than when o'er mustered hosts unfurled,

Thou art a signal to the world,

At which the nations start.

V.

Thou art a symbol of the power

Whose sheltering wings our homes surround; Guarded by thee was childhood's morn,

And where thy cheering folds are borne,
Order and Peace are found.

VI.

Flag of our mighty Union, hail!

Blessings abound where thou dost float;

Best robe for living Freedom's form,

Fit pall to spread upon her tomb,

Should Heaven to death devote.

VII.

Wave over us in glory still,

And be our guardian as now!

Each wind of heaven salute thy streaks!
And withered be the arm that seeks
To bring that banner low!

CI.

THE SENSITIVE AUTHOR.

SHERIDAN.

The following scene is from a dramatic piece entitled "The Critic, or a Tragedy Rehearsed." In the character of "Sir Fretful Plagiary," Sheridan has caricatured the foibles of Richard Cumberland, author of several plays, who died in 1811. He was an honorable and amiable man, but his literary vanity was excessive; and his irritable susceptibility to criticism was such that Garrick called him " the man without a skin."

See in Index, BOMBAST, SUGGEST, SHERIDAN.

Delivery. In reading the dialogue, bear in mind that Dangle and Sneer are amusing themselves with the well-known weakness of Sir Fretful, and that their praise is as insincere as their pretended quotations from a newspaper attack are mischievous.

DANGLE, SNEER, SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY.

Dan. Ah, my dear friend! We were just speaking of your tragedy. Admirable, Sir Fretful, admirable! Sneer. You never did anything beyond it, Sir Fretful,-never in your life.

Sir F. Sincerely, then, you do like the piece?
Sneer. Wonderfully!

Sir F. But come now, there must be something that you think might be mended, hey?- Mr. Dangle, has nothing struck you?

Dan. Why, faith, it is but an ungracious thing, for the most part, to

Sir F. With most authors it is just so indeed; they are in general strangely tenacious! But, for my part, I am never so well pleased as when a judicious critic points out any defect in me; for what is the purpose of showing a work to a friend, if you don't mean to profit by his opinion?

Sneer. Very true. Why, then, though I seriously admire the piece upon the whole, yet there is one small objection; which, if you 'll give me leave, I'll mention. Sir F. Sir, you can't oblige me more.

Sneer. I think it wants incident.

Sir F. You surprise me ! - wants incident?'

Sneer. Yes; I own, I think the incidents are too few.

Sir F. Believe me, Mr. Sneer, there is no person for whose judgment I have a more implicit deference. But I protest to you, Mr. Sneer, I am only apprehensive that the incidents are too crowded. - My dear Dangle, how does it strike you?

Dan. Really, I can't agree with my friend Sneer. I think the plot quite sufficient; and the first four acts by many degrees the best I ever read or saw in my life. If I might venture to suggest anything, it is that the interest rather falls off in the fifth.

Sir F. Rises, I believe, you mean, sir

Dan. No; I don't, upon my word.

Sir F. Yes, yes, you do, upon my word, -it certainly don't fall off, I assure you. No, no, it don't fall off.

Dan. Well, Sir Fretful, I wish you may be able to get rid as easily of the newspaper criticisms as you do of ours.

Sir F. The newspapers! Sir, they are the most villainous - licentious - abominable infernal Not that I ever read them! No! I make it a rule never to

look into a newspaper.

Dan. You are quite right, for it certainly must hurt an author of delicate feelings to see the liberties they take.

Sir F. No!-quite the contrary; their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric; — I like it of all things. An author's reputation is only in danger from their support.

Sneer. Why, that's true, and that attack now on you the other day

Sir F. What? where?

Dan. Ay, you mean in a paper of Thursday; it was completely ill-natured, to be sure.

Sir F. O, so much the better

would n't have it otherwise.

Ha ha ha! - I

Dan. Certainly, it's only to be laughed at; for Sir F. You don't happen to recollect what the fellow said, do you?

Sneer. Pray, Dangle- Sir Fretful seems

anxious

a little Sir F. O no!- anxious, not I, not the least. I- But one may as well hear, you know.

Dan. Sneer, do you recollect? — [Aside to SNEER.] Make out something.

Sneer. [Aside to DANGLE.] I will. [Aloud.] Yes, yes, I remember perfectly.

Sir F. Well, and pray now - not that it signifies — what might the gentleman say?

Sheer. Why, he roundly asserts that you have not the slightest invention or original genius whatever; though you are the greatest traducer of all other authors living.

Sir F. Ha! ha! ha! Very good!

Sneer. That, as to comedy, you have not one idea of your own, he believes, even in your commonplacebook, where stray jokes and pilfered witticisms are kept with as much method as the ledger of the Lost and Stolen Office.

Sir F. Ha ha! ha! Very pleasant!

Sneer. Nay, that you are so unlucky as not to have the skill even to steal with taste: but that you glean from the ref'use of obscure volumes, where more judicious plagiarists have been before you; so that the body of your work is a composition of dregs and sediments, - like a bad tavern's worst wine.