2. He said to his friend,-" If the British march 3. Then he said Good night, and with muffled oar A phantom ship, with each mast and spar And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified 4. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street 5. Then he climbed to the tower of the church, And startled the pigeons from their perch 6. Beneath, in the church-yard, lay the dead In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread," And seeming to whisper, "All is well! Of the place and the hour, the secret dread 7. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, 8. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, 9. A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 10. It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 11. It was one by the village-clock, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. 12. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, 13. You know the rest. In the books you have read And only pausing to fire and load. 14. So through the night rode Paul Revere ; A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, LXXVII.-ALEXANDER THE GREAT, AND A ROBBER. JOHN AIKIN. Alexander. What, art thou the Thracian robber, of whose exploits I have heard so much? Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. Alex. A soldier !—a thief, a plunderer, an assassin! the pest of the country; I could honor thy courage, but I must detest and punish thy crimes. Robber. What have I done, of which you can complain? Alex. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority, violated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the persons and properties of thy fellow subjects? Robber. Alexander! I am your captive-I must hear what you please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my soul is unconquered; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. Alex. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advantage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse. Robber. I must then answer your question by another. How have you passed your life? Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest: among sovereigns, the noblest: among conquerors, the mightiest. Robber. And does not Fame speak of me too? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was there ever- but I scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been easily subdued. Alex. Still, what are you but a robber-a base, dishonest robber? Robber. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair fruits of peace and industry; plundering, ravaging, killing, without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion? All that I have done to a single district with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is, then, the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I? Alex. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. Robber. I, too, have freely given to the poor what I took from the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most ferocious of mankind, and have stretched out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the philosophy you talk of, but I believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for half the mischief we have done it. Alex. Leave me.-Take off his chains, and use him well. -Are we then so much alike? Alexander like a robber? Let me reflect. LXXVIII.-ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE. E. L. BEERS. 1. "Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, |