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in all ages, to let no occasion pass of commemorating this illustrious man; and, until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of WASHINGTON !




DINT, n., an impression.
GRIEVOUS-LY, ad., with grief.
COF'FER, n., a chest; a treasure.
VESTURE, n., a garment; a robe.
STATUE (stat'yu), n., an image.
LU'PER-CAL (-kal), n., a Roman festi-
val in honor of Pan.
MU'TI-NY, n., an insurrection.

MAN'TLE, n., a loose cloak.
JUDGMENT, n., the power or the ac
of judging.

COм'MONS, n. pl., the common people.
Is'sUE, n., progeny; offspring.
TEST'A-MENT, n., a will.

NER'VI-I (ner'vē-i), n., a warlike race.
once inhabiting Belgium.

Mark Antony's oration, from Shakspeare's tragedy of Julius Cæsar, is deservedly cel ebrated. It is immediately preceded by Brutus's address, which may be found on page 267. Cæsar, on account of his designs against the liberties of the people, had been slain by Brutus and others. Mark Antony artfully rouses the people against the slayers.

FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil-that men do lives after them;
The good-is oft inter'red with their bones.
So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious.
If it were so it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honorable man;
So are they all, all honorable men ;)
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me
But Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.

You all did see that, on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause;
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?→
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason! - Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin, there, with Cæsar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might
Have stood against the world; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

O masters! if I were disposed to stir

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,

I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honorable men.

I will not do them wrong.
I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you,
Than I will wrong such honorable men.

But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar.
I found it in his closet. "Tis his will!
Let but the commons hear this testament,-
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,-
And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And, dying, mention it within their wills,

Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy,
Unto their issue!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
You all do know this mantle. I remember
The first time ever Cæsar put it on.

'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent;
That day he overcame the Nervii.

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through;
See, what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this, the well-belov'ed Brutus stabbed;
And, as he plucked his curs'ed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it!

This, this was the unkindest cut of all;
For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart;
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down;
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.

O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
The dint of pity. These are gracious drops.-
Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here !
Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors!

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.

They that have done this deed are honorable.
What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and honorable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.
I am no orator, as Brutus is;

But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,

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That love my friend, and that they know full well
That gave me public leave to speak of him;
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech
To stir men's blood. I only speak right on.
I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds,-


And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Cæsar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny!

-poor, poor, dumb

CXXXV. — ADDRESS OF CAR'ADOC, THE BARD. SEP'UL-CHER or SEP'UL-CHRE (-ker), | QUAIL, v. i., to sink; to shrink. n., a tomb or grave. WAR'RIOR (wor'yur), n., a soldier. Cym'ria was the ancient name of Wales. By one of the primitive laws of the country, no Cymrian bard could bear weapons.

HARK to the measured march!-the Saxons come!

The sound earth quails beneath the hollow tread!
Your fathers rushed upon the swords of Rome,

And climbed her war-ships, when the Cæsar fled!
The Saxons come! why wait within the wall?
They scale the mountain; - let its torrents fall!
Mark, ye have swords, and shields, and armor, YE!
No mail defends the Cymrian Child of Song;
But where the warrior, there the bard shall be!
All fields of glory to the bard belong!
His realm extends wherever godlike strife
Spurns the base death, and wins immortal life.


Unarmed he goes
his guard the shield of all,
Where he bounds foremost on the Saxon spear!
Unarmed he goes, that, falling, even his fall

Shall bring no shame, and shall bequeath no fear!
Does the cease?
avenge it by the deed,
And make the sepulcher-a nation freed!

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VAGUE, a., loose; unsettled.

|STREN'U-OUS, a., bold and active. THE A-TER OF THEʼA-TRE, n., a play-RE-TEN'TIVE, a., able to retain. house; a field of action. NU-TRITION, n., that which nourishes. EX'PI-ATE, v. t., to atone for. IR-REP'A-RA-BLE, α., not to be re


MOD'I-FY, v. t., to vary.
DIS-OR'GAN-IZE, v. t., to destroy order CON-DU'CIVE, a., leading to.
VALVE, N., folding door.

or system.

Avoid saying maintainance for main'te-nance. The Greek plural of gymnasium (jim-na'zhe-um) is gymnasia.

1. THE reproach of selfishness is sometimes ignorantly brought against persons who are very careful of their health. But, in reality, no man is so thoroughly selfish as he who, in the ardent pursuit of pleasure or of profit, heedlessly neglects those habits and conditions of life, without proper attention to which, health can not be preserved. The burden of such a man's support may, through his own fault, be thrown on society or on his friends; and he may, too late, regret his inattention to a few simple rules, by the observance of which he might have maintained his constitution unimpaired.

2. In proportion as we give to the matter the con sideration it deserves, we shall become anxious rather to take care of health when we have it, than first to lose it, and then exert ourselves to recover it. Says an old writer: "You that have health, and know not how to prize it, I'll tell you what it is. Health is that which makes your meat and drink both savory and pleasant. Health is that which makes your bed easy, and your sleep refreshing; which revives your strength with the rising sun, and makes you cheerful at the light of another day.

3. "Tis that which makes exercise a sport, and walking abroad the enjoyment of your liberty! 'Tis that which makes fertile the natural endowments of

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