eloquence. The old shyness that tormented him so at the academy was gone. At last the greatest of his natural gifts was developing rapidly and was used freely. M. C., member of Congress. dor'mant, not developed. JOHN BACH MCMASTER. con-tem'po-ra-ry, occurring at the same time. JOHN BACH MCMASTER, historian, was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1852. After his graduation from the College of the City of New York, he practised civil engineering, becoming instructor in the subject at Princeton University in 1877. In 1883 he accepted the professorship of American history in the University of Pennsylvania. His writings include many histories of the United States, "Benjamin Franklin as a Man of Letters," and "Daniel Webster," from which, with the kind permission of the author and of The Century Company, by whom the book is copyrighted, the present selection is taken. WEBSTER DEFENDING HIS ALMA MATER [The charter of Dartmouth College was granted by the British crown in 1769. It was under the government of twelve trustees and was virtually a private institution. In 1816 the legislature of New Hampshire amended this charter, making the college a public institution governed by officials appointed by the state. The case was appealed to the Supreme Court of the United States, where Daniel Webster made the principal argument in favor of the old charter being retained, and won the case.] Mr. Webster went on for more than four hours with a statement so luminous, and a chain of reasoning so easy to be understood, and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demonstration, that he seemed to carry with him every man of his audience without the slightest effort or uneasiness on either side. A single circumstance will show you the clearness and absorbing power of his argument. I observed that Judge Story, at the opening of the case, had prepared himself, pen in hand, as if to take copious minutes. Hour after hour I saw him fixed in the same attitude, but, so far as I could perceive, with not a note on his paper. The argument closed, and I could not discover that he had taken a single note. Others around me remarked the same thing, and it was among the on dits [" They say's "] of Washington, that a friend spoke to him of the fact with surprise, when the Judge remarked, “Everything was so clear, and so easy to remember, that not a note seemed necessary, and, in fact, I thought little or nothing about my notes." The argument ended, Mr. Webster stood for some moments silent before the court, while every eye was fixed intently upon him. At length, addressing the Chief Justice, he proceeded thus: "This, Sir, is my case. It is the case not merely of that humble institution, it is the case of every college in the land. It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution throughout our country,-of all those great charities founded by the piety of our ancestors, to alleviate human misery, and scatter blessings along the pathway of life. "It is more! It is, in some sense, the case of every man among us who has property of which he may be stripped; for the question is merely this: Shall our State Legislatures be allowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it from its original use, and apply it to such ends or purposes as they in their discretion shall see fit? "Sir, you may destroy this little institution; it is weak; it is in your hands! I know that it is one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But, if you do so, you must carry through your work! You must extinguish, one after another, all those greater lights of science which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our land! It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet there are those who love it" Here, the feelings, which he had thus far succeeded in keeping down, broke forth. His lips quivered; his firm cheeks trembled with emotion; his eyes were filled with tears, his voice choked, and he seemed struggling to the utmost simply to gain that mastery over himself which might save him from a burst of feeling. I shall not attempt to give you the few broken words of tenderness in which he went on to speak of his attachment to the college. The whole seemed to be mingled throughout with the recollections of father, mother, brother, and all the privations and trials through which he had made his way into life. Every one saw that it was entirely unpremeditated, a pressure on his heart, which sought relief in words and tears. The court-room during these two or three minutes presented an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, with his tall and gaunt figure bent over, as if to catch the slightest whisper, the deep furrows of his cheeks expanded with emotion, and his eyes suffused with tears; Mr. Justice Washington at his side, leaning forward with an eager, troubled look; and the remainder of the court at the two extremities, pressing, as it were, toward a single point, while the audience below were wrapping themselves round in closer folds beneath the bench, to catch each look and every movement of the speaker. If a painter could give us the scene on canvas,-those forms and countenances, and Daniel Webster as he stood there in the midst, it would be one of the most touching pictures in the history of eloquence. One thing it taught me, that the Pathetic depends not merely on the words uttered, but still more on the estimate we put upon him who utters them. There was not one among the strong-minded men of that assembly who could think it unmanly to weep, when he saw standing before him the man, who had made such an argument, melted into the tenderness of a child. Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and, fixing his keen eye on the Chief Justice, said, in that deep tone with which he sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience, "Sir, I know not how others may feel," (glancing at the opponents of the college before him), "but for myself, when I see my Alma Mater surrounded, like Cæsar in the Senate-house, by those who are reiterating stab after stab, I would not, for this right hand, have her turn to me, and say, 'Et tu quoque, mi fili,' And thou too, my son!" He sat down. There was a death-like stillness throughout the room for some moments; every one seemed to be slowly recovering himself, and coming gradually back to his ordinary range of thoughts and feeling. lu'mi-nous, clear; intelligent. CHAUNCEY ALLEN GOODRICH. el"ee-mos'y-na-ry, supported or founded by charity. al-le'vi-ate, relieve; lessen. CHAUNCEY ALLEN GOODRICH (1790-1860), an American scholar, was born in New Haven, Connecticut. He was graduated from Yale and afterward held professorships of rhetoric and theology there. His own close association with college interests made him keenly appreciative of Webster's eager eloquence in defending his "Alma Mater." A relative pronoun is used to introduce a clause and refers directly to its antecedent. The relative pronouns are who, which, that and what. MUSIC IN CAMP Two armies covered hill and plain, The summer clouds lay pitched like tents In meads of heavenly azure; And each dread gun of the elements Slept in its embrasure. The breeze so softly blew, it made No forest leaf to quiver, And the smoke of the random cannonade And now, where circling hills looked down O'er listless camp and silent town When on the fervid air there came The music seemed itself aflame With day's departing splendor. A Federal band, which, eve and morn, |