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were blessed by them ; none could point to them as the means of their redemption; not a line they wrote, not a word they spoke could be recalled, and so they perished ; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal ? Live for something! Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storms of time can never destroy. Write your name by kindness, love and mercy on the hearts of thousands with whom you come in contact, year by year, and you will never be forgotten. No, your name, your deeds will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind, as the stars on the brow of the evening. Good deeds will shine as brightly on the earth as the stars of heaven.
5. THE GRAVE. - Washington Irving.
Oh, the grave ! the grave! It buries every error; covers every defect; extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regret and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that ever he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him? But the grave of those he loved, what a place for meditation ! Then it is we call up, in long review, the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded, in the daily intercourse of intimacy; then it is, we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn and awful tenderness of the parting scene ; the bed of death, with all the stifled grief ; its noiseless attendants, its mute, watchful assiduities; the last testimonies of expiring love ; the feeble, fluttering, thrilling-Oh! how thrilling the pressure of the hand; the last, fond look of the glazed eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence; the faint, faltering accents struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection! Aye, go to the grave of buried love and meditate! There settle the account with thy conscience, for every past endearment, unregarded, of that departed being, who never, never, never can return, to be soothed by contrition ! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee; if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to the true heart that now lies cold and still beneath thy feet; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungenteel action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul; then be sure thou wilt be down, sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and
pour availing tear, more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing
6. DANIEL WEBSTER'S CELEBRITY.
'In 1835,” says a Bostonian, "I was attending the circuit court in Portland, and boarded at the same hotel with Judge Story, and some of the bar. One day after
dinner, as we sat listening to his rich conversation, some one spoke of the Dartmouth College question, when the judge described to us the first appearance of the power of Mr. Webster, as evinced in that celebrated case. He spoke of him as a stranger, but little known at that time. The trial came on in 1818. The court room crowded. Many distinguished spectators were present. The case was of no common kind; it touched the happiness, the preservation, the glory of our common country; for every college and seminary of learning in the Union was interested in the result. Mr. Webster felt the magnitude of his cause, and the great responsibility resting upon his shoulders. He rose up to address the court. Every eye was fixed upon him, every ear was open. He began slowly, and in a low voice. His nerves were slightly tremulous, and the papers shook in his hand. His face looked troubled ; the deep anxiety portrayed in his features excited the sympathy of the kindest feelings of the court for one who stood before them as a modest, unassuming man, a stranger, and with an overwhelming brow, and look of no common care. But he went on, step by step, with arguments, with authorities, with appeals to the supreme tribunal before him ; each step his voice rose into energy and power ; his face brightened up, his eye kindled, and, ere long, the attention became so profound, and the interest of the whole assembly so great, from the magnitude of the question, and the manner in which he presented it, that not merely a breathless silence prevailed, but even tears started in many an eye, and some were seen to fall from members of the bench. He won his cause. It was his début ; and from that moment Daniel Webster stood invincible, and took a stand in eloquence which has seldom been surpassed.
Such is a feeble and impotent sketch of a most impressive anecdote, to which I listened with interest as it fell from the lips of a man who was himself a model of elegance, and a guide to eloquence in his judicial life.”
1. WEBSTER AND DAVID CROCKETT.
It is related of David Crockett, that on his arrival at Washington, he hearl Mr. Webster; and afterwards meeting him somewhere in the capitol, accosted him thus: “Is this Mr. Webster?" “Yes, Sir." great Mr. Webster of Massachusetts ?". "I am Mr. Webster, of Massachusetts.” “Well, Sir," continued Mr. Crockett, “I had heard that you were a great man, but I don't think so. I heard your speech, and understood every word you said." There never was any difficulty in understanding Mr. Webster. Neither is there any difficulty in understanding Dr. Wayland. Mr. Webster addressed his auditors almost colloquially : thinking clearly, his words came forth the most perfect exponents of his thoughts; and when he rose to the regions of impressive grandeur, that grandeur was but the simple, unpretending expression of the grandeur which was in him.
2. SIIERIDAN'S GREAT SPEECH.-R. B. Sheridan. B. 1751, d. 1816.
Mr. Burke, in speaking of Mr. Sheridan's celebrated speech on the Begum charge, on the trial of Warren Hastings, said :
“He has this day surprised the thousands who hung with rapture on his accents, by such an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacity, such a display of powers, as are unparalleled in the annals of oratory ; a display that reflected the highest honor on himself, lustre upon letters, renown upon parliament, glory upon the country. Of all species of rhetoric, of every kind of eloquence that has been witnessed or recorded either in ancient or modern times—whatever the dignity of the senate, the acuteness of the bar, the solidity of the judgment-seat, and the sacred morality of the pulpit have hitherto furnished—nothing has surpassed, nothing has equalled what we have heard this day in Westminster Hall. No holy seer of religion, no orator, no man of any literary description whatever, has come up in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality; or in the other, to that variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, strength and copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity of conception, to which we have this day listened with ardor and admiration. From poetry up to eloquence, there is not a species of composition of which a complete and perfect specimen might not from that single speech be culled and collated."