ment has been paid her by a writer who wished to compare her to one of Shakspeare's heroines, and to say that had Imogene, or Isabella, or Cornelia become an author, she would have written as Mrs. Hemans wrote. 3. Mrs. Hemans was an especial favorite with Americans of her generation, and she has been highly praised by Mrs. Sigourney, who paid her the following beautiful tribute:— "Every unknown age Shall mix thee with its household charities; The mother shrine thee as a vestal flame In the lone temple of her sanctity; And the young child who takes thee by the hand Shall travel with a surer step to heaven." 4. Mrs. Hemans wrote a tragedy called The Vespers of Palermo; but even the fine talents of Kemble and Young could not make it popular upon the stage. Her style is simpler and more natural than Campbell's, and if she is not sublime she is not commonplace. The evenness and sad sweetness of her writings tend to monotony; but she is one of the best of lyric writers, carrying into her song delicate perceptions, a glow of tenderness, and warm and elevated feeling. The woman excelled in a woman's province, uttering the sentiments of the heart with feminine insight, dignity, and pathos. "Her forte," says a discriminating critic, "lay in depicting whatever tends to beautify and embellish domestic life, by purifying the pas sions and by sanctifying the affections; making man an undying and unquenchable spirit, and earth, his abode, a holy place." 5. We can scarcely imagine anything more full of touching beauty than her poem entitled The Hour of Death: "Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! "Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth!" If we transfer to these pages some pieces that are familiar to all, it will show that they are so beloved by all that none ever weary of them. Of this character are the two follow ing selections: II. The Adopted Child. 1. "Why wouldst thou leave me, O gentle child! Where many an image of marble gleams, 2. "Oh, green is the turf where my brothers play And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know- 3. "Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell: Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well,— Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard." 4. "My mother sings, at the twilight's fall, 5. Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, -Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, 6. "Is my mother from her home away? gone -But I know that my brothers are there at play. I know they are gathering the foxglove's bell, Or the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well, Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flowLady, kind lady, oh, let me go." 7. "Fair child! thy brothers are wanderers now, 8. "Are they gone, all gone, from the sunny hill? -But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still, And the red deer bound in their gladness free, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow— III.-Landing of the Pilgrims. 1. The breaking waves dashed high on a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky their giant branches tossed, And the heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark on the wild New England shore. 2. Not as the conqueror comes, they, the true-hearted, came, Not with the roll of stirring drums, and the trumpet that sings of fame: Not as the flying come, in silence and in fear,— They shook the depths of the desert's gloom with their hymns of lofty cheer. 3. Amidst the storm they sang, and the stars heard, and the sea! And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang to the anthem of the free! The ocean eagle soared from his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared:-this was their welcome home! 4. There were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band— Why had they come to wither there, away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, and the fiery heart of youth. 5. What sought they thus afar? bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas? the spoils of war?-they sought a. faith's pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground, the soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found,-freedom to worship God! CHAPTER LII.-MISCELLANEOUS. Thomas Jefferson's First Inaugural Address, March 4, 1801. [At the close of the very exciting and acrimonious Presidential contest of the year 1800, between the Federalists on the one hand and the Republicans on the other, the Federal candidates were left in the minority; but as Jefferson and Burr, the Republican candidates, had an equal number of votes, it became the duty of the House of Representatives, voting by States, to decide between the two. Here occurred another exciting contest, and it was not until thirty-five ballotings had been held, that the choice of President fell upon Mr. Jefferson. The following is an extract from his first Inaugural address.] 1. During the contest of opinion through which we have passed, the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely, and to speak and to write what they think; but, the contest being now decided by the voice of the nation, and announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that, though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will, to be right, must be |