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What does the poor man's son inherit ?-
Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,
Oh! rich man's son, there is a toil
Large charity doth never soil,
Oh! poor man's son, scorn not thy state ;-
In merely being rich and great;
Both heirs to some six feet of sod,
Both children of the same dear God;
LESSON CL.--NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD.-ISAAC M'LELLAN, JR.
There she is; behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history. The world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is
There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker
On every hill they lie;
field of strife made red By bloody victory.
Each valley, where the battle poured
Its red and awful tide,
With slaughter deeply dyed.
And on the southern plain,
The land is holy where they fought,
And holy where they fell;
The land they loved so well.
A handful of brave men ;
And where are ye, O fearless men ?
And where are ye to-day?
That ye have passed away;
In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground,
Above each soldier's mound,
The bugle's wild and warlike blast
Shall muster them no more;
And they not heed its roar.
The starry flag, 'neath which they fought,
In many a bloody day,
For they have passed away.
LESSON CLI.THE GRAVES OF THE PATRIOTS. ----J. G. PERCIVAL.
Here rest the great and good,-here they repose
Comes with its early flowers to deck their graves, 5 And gathers them again, as winter frowns.
Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre,-green sods
Or the eternal pyramids. They need 10 No statue nor inscription to reveal
Their greatness. It is round them; and the joy
That smiles on all they fought for, and the wealth 15 That clothes the land they rescued—these, though mute
As feeling ever is when deepest,—these
Touch not the ancient elms, that bend their shade 20 Over their lowly graves; beneath their boughs
There is a solemn darkness, even at noon,
generous fame, 25 But the pure consecrated love of home.
No deeper feeling sways us, when it wakes
At Marathon, at Bannockburn, and here,
Broken and cowed. Let these green elms be all
No art to make them known. They live in us, 35 While we are like them, simple, hardy, bold, Worshipping nothing but our own pure hearts,
And the one universal Lord. They need
hastens there, 5 And there alone reposes. Let these elms
Bend their protecting shadow o'er their graves,
That rose to them in blood, and set in glory.
Give not a sound, and all around is mute
With the first flowers of spring, and make to them 15 An offering of the plenty, Nature gives,
And they have rendered ours,-perpetually.
LESSON CLII.-TRUTH.-H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Who can find,
The Incomprehensible,—the Deity!
From thee, a trembling shadow of thy ray.
Thy glory beams around us, but the thought 10
That heavenward wings its daring flight away
Hath never known thee, saving as it knows
The sun, whose radiance dazzles as it glows;
Vainly Philosophy may strive to teach 20 The secret of thy being. Its faint
ray Misguides our steps. Beyond the utmost reach
of its untiring wing, the eternal day
Of truth is shining on the longing eye,
A revelation. All we feel and see
Yet speaks so darkly and mysteriously
LESSON CLIII.-THE FIRST SETTLERS IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.
N. A. HAVEN.
Two hundred years ago, the place* on which we stand was an uncultivated forest. The rough and vigorous soil was still covered with the stately trees, which had been,
for ages, intermingling their branches and deepening the 5 shade. The river, which now bears, on its bright and
pure waters, the treasures of distant climates, and whose rapid current is stemmed and vexed by the arts and enterprise of man, then only rippled against the rocks, and
reflected back the wild and grotesque thickets which over10 hung its banks. The mountain, which now swells on our
left, and raises its verdant side, “ shade above shade,” was then almost concealed by the lofty growth which covered the intervening plains. Behind us, a deep morass, extend
ing across to the northern creek, almost enclosed the little 15 “ Bank,” which is now the seat of so much life and indus
try. It was then a wild and tangled thicket, interspersed with venerable trees and moss-grown rocks, and presenting, here and there, a sunny space, covered with the blos
soms and early fruit of the little plant that gave it its name. 20 This “ Bank," so wild and rude, two hundred years ago, was first impressed with the step of civilized man.
The influence of local association is strong and universal. There is no one who has not felt it; and if it were
possible, it would be useless to withdraw the mind from its 25 effects. We owe many of our deepest emotions, our high
est and most ennobling feelings, to the suggestions of external nature. The place which has been distinguished by the residence of one whom we love and admire, kindles in our minds a thousand conceptions, which we can scarcely