years has filled the land with the racket of various controversies; and yet to-day, without office, without title, without place except that of the humblest citizen, the Government itself stands still, and the honored representative and Chief Magistrate of this great people is here to bow his head in unfeigned sympathy. Here are men who have scarcely yet laid down the bow from which the last arrow has been shot -all gathered in genuine sympathy around about this man who can speak no more, walk in our presence no more, but has gone out from us forever.

Is it that death has made us forget all our differences? We have not forgotten them. We differ to-day as much in theory, as much in philosophy, in the best methods of policy, as we did a month ago. A month ago the whole land was full of clamor. A little while ago men were in fierce battle. There has been no change in it; and yet he who was the chief mark on one side lies before you; and you press around him in tears to-day to do him reverence. It is because the man is more than a professional man; not the candidate, not the editor. The man that lay under them all is honored and honorable. And when the conflicts of life intermit for a moment, and you can look into that which belongs to your essential manhood, you do revere him and love him. And you are brought together to express here your honor and your reverence for Horace Greeley.

For thirty years he has builded for himself no outward monument, no long line of literary efforts, no mansion, no estate; but for thirty years that heart that meant well by every human being has been beating, beating, and giving some drops of its blood to countless multitudes, until to-day, between the two oceans, there is hardly an intelligent man or child that does not feel the influence of the life of Horace Greeley.

And now what matters it, in your present thought, that in the party divisions of life he was on one side and you were on the other? Horace Greeley gave the strength of his life

The

to education, to honest industry, to humanity, especially toward the poor and the unfriended. He was feet for the lame; he was tongue for the dumb; he was an eye for the blind; and had a heart for those who had none to sympathize with them. His nature longed for more love than it had, and more sympathy than was ever administered to it. great heart working through life fell at last. It had been for intelligence, for industry, for an honester life and a nobler manhood; and his deeds will be known and felt to the latest generations in our land. He has been a national benefactor; and to-day we are all speaking kindly of him— sorrowfully.

Oh! men, is there nothing for you to do—you who with uplifted hands a few short weeks ago were doing such battle? Think of those conflicts, in which you forgot charity, kindliness, goodness! What do you think of them now? Look here at all that remains of this man. Did you not magnify the differences? It is not enough that you should mourn with those that mourn. Carry back with you a kinder and

chastened feeling.

At last, at last! he rests as one that has been driven through a long voyage by storms that would not abate, but reaches the shore and stands upon the firm earth; sees again the shady trees, and the green fields, and the beaming sun. So he, through a long and not untempestuous voyage, has reached the shore and is at rest. How blessed are the dead that die in the Lord!

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP

By ROBERT BROWNING, Poet. Born in Camberwell, England, 1812; died in Venice, Italy, 1889.

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"—

Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy:
You hardly could suspect-
(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace

We've got you Ratisbon!

The Marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes;

“I'm killed, Sire! And his chief beside,
Smiling, the boy fell dead.

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JAMES OTIS

By LYDIA MARIA CHILD, Novelist, Journalist; Author of the first antislavery book printed in America. Born in Medford, Mass., 1802; died in Wayland, Mass., 1880.

Taken from the novel, "The Rebels of Boston before the Revolution," published in 1822.

England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with bulrushes as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and firm in this youthful land than where she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles like those against which we now contend have cost one king of England his life, another his crown, and they may yet cost a third his most flourishing colonies.

We are bold

We are two millions-one-fifth fighting men. and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation from whom we are proud to derive our origin we were ever, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance; but it must not, and it never can be, extorted.

Some have sneeringly asked, Are the Americans too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper?" No! America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds implies the right to take a thousand; and what must be the wealth that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust? True, the specter is now small; but the shadow he casts before him is huge enough to darken all this fair land. Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude which we owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam which has brought it forth on

the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert.

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were behind us. We have waked this new world from its savage lethargy; forests have been prostrated in our path; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics; and the fires in our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid than the increase of our wealth and population. And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother country? No! we owe it to the tyranny that drove us from her—to the pelting storms which invigorated our helpless infancy.

66

But perhaps others will say, We ask no money from your gratitude, we only demand that you should pay your own expenses. And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity? Why, the King,-and, with all due reverence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant subjects as little as he does the language of the Choctaws! Who is to judge concerning the frequency of these demands? The Ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly expended? The Cabinet behind the Throne. In every instance, those who take are to judge for those who pay. If this system is suffered to go into operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege that rain and dew do not depend upon Parliament; otherwise they would soon be taxed and dried. But, thanks to God, there is freedom enough upon earth to resist such monstrous injustice! The flame of liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome; but the light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. But we will not coun

tenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs that a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well for some proud men to remember that a fire is lighted in these Colonies which one breath of their King may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it!