Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father!-methinks I see my father.
Where, my lord?

Hor.
Ham.
In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw? who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham,

The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.

Ham.
For God's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

Ham.

In the dead vast and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-à-pié,

Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;

And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;

These hands are not more like.

But where was this?

Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you speak to it?

Hor.

My lord, I did;

But answer made it none: yet once methought
It lifted up its head and did address

Ham.
Hor.

Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

'Tis very strange.
As I do live, my honor'd lord, 't is true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?

Ham. Then saw you not his face?

Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham.

Hor. Most constantly.
Ham.

And fix'd his eyes upon you?

I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amazed you.

Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Mar. Longer, longer.

Ber.

Hor. Not when I saw't.

Ham.

His beard was grizzled,-no?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

Ham.

A sable silver'd.

I will watch to-night;
Perchance 'twill walk again.

I warrant it will.

Hor.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All.
Our duty to your honor.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

My father's spirit in arms! all is not well.

[Exeunt.

I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,

Tho' all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. [Exit.

-Shakespeare.

CXLI.-E PLURIBUS UNUM.

THOUGH many and bright are the stars that appear
In that flag by our country unfurled;

And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there,
Like a rainbow adorning the world,

Their lights are unsullied as those in the sky,
By a deed that our fathers have done;

And they're leagued in as true and as holy a tie,
In their motto of "Many in one."

From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flung
That banner of starlight abroad,

Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clung,
As they clung to the promise of God:

By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war,
On the fields where our glory was won;

Oh! perish the heart or the hand that would mar

Our motto of "Many in one."

'Mid the smoke of the contest-the cannon's deep roarHow oft hath it gathered renown!

While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore.

When the cross and the lion went down;

Though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour,

Yet the hearts that were striking below

Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power, And they stopped not to number their foe.

From where our green mountain-tops blend with the sky,
And the giant St. Lawrence is rolled,

To the waves where the balmy Hesperides lie,
Like the dream of some prophet of old;

They conquered—and dying, bequeathed to our care—
Not this boundless dominion alone-

But that banner, whose loveliness hallows the air,
And their motto of "Many in one."

We are many in one, while there glitters a star

In the blue of the heavens above;

And tyrants shall quail 'mid their dungeons afar,
When they gaze on that motto of love.

It shall gleam o'er the sea, 'mid the bolts of the storm,
Over tempest and battle and wreck,

And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm 'Neath the blood on the slippery deck.

The oppressed of the earth to that standard shall fly, Wherever its folds shall be spread;

And the exile shall feel 't is his own native sky

Where its stars shall float over his head.

And those stars shall increase, till the fullness of time

Its millions of cycles has run

Till the world shall have welcomed its mission sublime, And the nations of earth shall be one.

Though the old Alleghany may tower to heaven,
And the Father of waters divide,

The links of our destiny can not be riven,

While the truth of these words shall abide.
Oh, then let them glow on each helmet and brand,
Though our blood like our rivers shall run:

Divide as we may in our own native land,
To the rest of the world we are one.

Then, up with our flag-let it stream on the air,
Though our fathers are cold in their graves;

They had hands that could strike, had souls that could dare, And their sons were not born to be slaves.

Up, up with that banner, where'er it may call,

Our millions shall rally around;

A nation of freemen that moment shall fall

When its stars shall be trailed on the ground.

-G. W. Cutter.

CXLII. THE MAESTRO'S CONFESSION.

THREESCORE and ten!

I wish it were all to live again.

Does n't the Scripture somewhere say,

By reason of strength men ofttimes may
Even reach fourscore? Alack! who knows?
Ten sweet, long years of life! I would paint
Our Lady and many and many a saint,
And thereby win my soul's repose.

Yet, Fra Bernardo, you shake your head:
Has the leech once said I must die? But he
Is only a fallible man, you see;

Now if it had been our father, the pope,
I should know there was then no hope.
Were only I sure of a few kind years
More to be merry in, then my fears
I'd slip for awhile, and turn and smile
At their hated reckonings: whence the need
Of squaring accounts for word and deed
Till the lease is up?-How? hear I aright?
No, no! You could not have said to-night!

Ah, well! Ah, well!

"Confess," you tell me, "and be forgiven."
Is there no easier path to heaven?
Santa Maria! how can I tell

What, now for a score of years and more,
I've buried away in my heart so deep,
That, howso tired I've been, I've kept

K. N. E.-30.