Nor such as may a while subsist 'Twixt sensualist and sensualist,

For vicious ends connected.

Who hopes a friend should have a heart,
Himself well furnished for the part,
And ready on occasion

To show the virtue that he seeks;
For 'tis a union that bespeaks
A just reciprocation.

A fretful temper will divide
The closest knot that may be tied,
By ceaseless, sharp corrosion:
A temper passionate and fierce
May suddenly your joys disperse
At one immense explosion.

Beware of tattlers; keep your ear
Close stopped against the tales they bear,
Fruits of their own invention;

The separation of chief friends

Is what their kindness most intends;

Their sport is your dissension.

Some friends make this their prudent plan:

"Say little and hear all you can

Safe policy, but hateful;

So barren sands imbibe the shower,

But render neither fruit nor flower
Unpleasant and ungrateful.

Pursue the theme, and you will find
A disciplined and furnished mind
To be at least expedient;
And, after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast
A principal ingredient.

True friendship has in that a grace
More than terrestrial in its face,

That proves it heaven-descended;
Man's love of woman not so pure,
Nor, when sincerest, so secure
To last till life is ended.

XC. SPEECH ON THE RECEPTION OF THE
SAUKS AND FOXES.

EVERETT.

[Edward Everett, a highly distinguished statesman, orator, and scholar, was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, and now (1856) resides in Boston.

In the autumn of 1837, a delegation of the Sauk and Fox tribes of Indians went to Washington on business connected with their boundary. It was deemed expedient by the United States government that they should visit the cities of the Eastern and Middle States, and Boston was included in their tour. They were received in Boston on the morning of October 30. Mr. Everett was at that time governor of Massachusetts, and in that capacity made them the following speech of welcome, which is a happy imitation of the peculiar style of oratory common to our North American Indians.]

CHIEFS and warriors of the united Sauks and Foxes, you are welcome to our hall of council.

Brothers, you have come a long way from your home to visit your white brethren; we rejoice to take you by the hand. Brothers, we have heard the names of your chiefs and warriors. Our brethren who have travelled into the west have told

us a great deal about the Sauks and Foxes; we rejoice to see you with our own eyes. Brothers, we are called the Massachusetts. This is the name of the red men who once lived here. Their wigwams were scattered on yonder fields, and their council fire was kindled on this spot. same great race as the Saukies and Foxes.

They were of the

Brothers, when our fathers came over the great water, they were a small band. The red man stood upon the rock by the sea side, and saw our fathers. He might have pushed them into the water and drowned them. But he stretched out his hand to them, and said, "Welcome, white men." Our fathers were hungry, and the red man gave them corn and venison. They were cold, and the red man wrapped them in his blanket. We are now numerous and powerful, but we remember the kindness of the red men to our fathers. Brothers, you are welcome; we are glad to see you.

Brothers, our faces are pale, and your faces are dark; but our hearts are alike. The Great Spirit has made his children of different colors, but he loves them all.

Brothers, you dwell between the Mississippi and the Missouri. They are mighty rivers. They have one branch far east in the Alleghanies, and another far west in the Rocky Mountains; but they flow together at last into one great stream, and run down into the sea. In like manner, the red man dwells in the west, and the white man in the east, by the great water. But they are all one band, one family. It has many branches, and one Head.

Brothers, as you entered our council house, you beheld the image of our great father, Washington.* It is a cold stone; it cannot speak. But he was the friend of the red man, and bade his children live in friendship with their red brethren. He is gone to the world of spirits, but his words have made a very deep print in our hearts, like the step of a strong buffalo on the soft clay of the prairie.

* There is a statue of Washington, by Chantrey, in the State House in Boston.

Brother, I perceive your little son between your knees. May the Great Spirit preserve his life, my brother. He grows up before you, like the tender sapling by the side of the mighty oak. May they flourish for a long time together; and when the mighty oak is fallen on the ground, may the young tree fill its place in the forest, and spread out its branches over the tribe.

Brothers, I make you a short talk, and again bid you welcome to our council hall.

XCI.-ORLANDO AND JAQUES.

SHAKSPEARE.

[William Shakspeare, the illustrious dramatic poet, was born at Stratford on Avon, in England, in April, 1564, and died in 1616.

This lesson is taken from As You Like It, one of his comedies, a play full of exquisite poetry, and the finest pictures of woodland life. Many of the scenes - the following among them—are laid in a forest. Orlando is a young man in love with Rosalind. Jaques is a nobleman in attendance upon a banished duke, who lives in the wood, and is Rosalind's father.]

Jaques. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief been myself alone.

Orlando. And so had I; but yet, for fashion's sake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaq. God be with you; let us meet as little as we can.
Orl. I do desire that we may be better strangers.

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?

Orl. Yes, just.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.

Jaq. What stature is she of?

Orl. Just as high as my heart.

Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned * them out of rings?

Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth,† from whence you have studied your questions.

Jaq. You have a nimble wit: I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me, and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.

Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love.

Orl. 'Tis a fault I would not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found

you.

Orl. He is drowned in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.

Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love.

Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.

* Conned, learned or studied. Rings formerly had mottoes, or sentiments, engraved upon them.

+ Painted cloth means the hangings, or tapestry, with which rooms used to be hung. Sentences were frequently wrought into them with a needle, as in a sampler; or sometimes woven in.

Atalanta was a maiden in Grecian poetry, famous for her swiftness in running.