The monarch spoke; the guards obey;
And gates unclosed are:

He's gone!-No golden bribes divide
The Dacian from his babes and bride.

EXERCISE XIII.-APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE OF MEATH IN 1834.

Henry Grattan.

[Bold and animated declamation is the prevailing strain of this piece. Free and forcible action, and frequent change of attitude, are also essential to its character, as a political harangue.]

Fellow-Countrymen,-The Chancellor of the Exchequer has stated that it is the intention of government to renew the Coercion Bill, and place all Ireland beyond the pale of the constitution. As one of your representatives, I therefore appeal to you, and inquire whether, in your opinion, this is necessary, and whether the county of Meath requires it? If so, declare it; and let me have your sentiments. I am of opinion that it is not; and with that conviction I address you. I appeal to your sober senses. I appeal also to your love of freedom,-to your pride as a nation, and to the feelings which belong to man.

I ask, will you in silence permit this invasion of your rights, at once wanton, mischievous, uncalled for, and unnecessary? Will you patiently tolerate the annihilation of all freedom, the appointment of a supreme dictator, who may, at his will, suspend all your rights, liberties, and privileges? Will you, without a murmur of dissent, submit to a tyranny which nearly equals that of the Russian autocrat, and is second to that of Bonaparte?

If you are willing thus to bend, and bow your necks beneath this yoke, select in my place another member; for I am not fit or willing to be the representative of slaves. Feeling thus, I give my opinion and my advice. I am attached, and ever will be attached, to England, 'so long as' she upholds the liberties of Ireland; but I am, and ever will, and ever ought to be, the enemy of England, if she attempts to keep Ireland in slavery!

Therefore it is that I advise you to meet. Assemble in your parishes, villages, and hamlets. Resolve,-petition,—. address: bad as the British House of Commons is, let it not be said that you have neglected to put to the test either its virtue or compliance. Petition against the demolition of your constitution; your lives, your properties, those of your

wives and children, all may be at stake. Recollect that liberty consists not only in its actual enjoyment, but in the impossibility of another depriving you of it against your

consent.

In this question consider the interest of England is involved, as well as your independence. These habitual departures from freedom familiarize men with arbitrary power; and what others permit to be inflicted upon us, they may, at no distant day, tolerate themselves. All is doubt, distrust, and disgrace; and in this instance, rely on it, that the certain and fatal result will be to make Ireland hate the connexion, contemn the councils of England, and despise her power.

Tell this to the king; state to him your apprehension and these dangers; call on his gracious majesty to redeem the pledge he gave to Ireland in his speech from the throne, at the close of the last session. Petition the House of Commons. Call for an inquiry into the real or supposed crimes of Ireland, for which she is to be visited with this horrid calamity! Challenge ministers to the proof, and put yourselves on God and your country. If guilty, let us calmly abide the results, and peaceably submit to our sentence; but if we are traduced, and really be innocent, tell ministers the truth, tell them they are tyrants; and strain every effort to avert their oppression. Do not descend to your graves with the main censure, that you suffered the liberties of your country to be taken away, and that you were mutes as well as cowards. Come forward, like men,-not in Meath alone, but in Ireland, everywhere. Protest against this atrocious attempt,-look in the face the enemies of your country;and if our liberties are to be cloven down, if Ireland is again enthralled, let us at least stand firm and erect, while the assassins strike the blow;' and if we fall, let it be like men who deserve to be free.

EXERCISE XIV. THE LEPER.-Willis.

[In reading or reciting this piece, a soft and chastened tone, adapted to the touching narrative, and simple but beautiful style of the piece, should prevail throughout.]

"Room for the leper! room!"-And, as he came,

The cry passed on-" Room for the leper! room!”
-Sunrise was slanting on the city gates,

Rosy and beautiful; and from the hills

The early-risen poor were coming in,
Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up
Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum
Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir,
And all that in a city murmur swells,—
Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear,
Aching with night's dull silence, or the sick,
Hailing the welcome light and sounds, that chase
The death-like images of the dark away.

"Room for the leper!" And aside they stood-
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood,—all
Who met him on his way,-and let him pass.
And onward through the open gate he came,
A leper with the ashes on his brow,
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip
A covering, stepping painfully and slow,
And with a difficult utterance, like one
Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down,
Crying" Unclean! Unclean!"

'Twas now the first

Of the Judean autumn, and the leaves,
Whose shadows lay so still upon his path,
Had put their beauty forth beneath the eye
Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young,
And eminently beautiful; and life
Mantled in elegant fulness on his lip,
And sparkled in his glance; and in his mien
There was a gracious pride, that every eye
Followed with benisons ;-and this was he!

And he went forth-alone! Not one of all
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name
Was woven in the fibres of his heart

Breaking within him now, to come and speak
Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way,
Sick, and heart-broken, and alone,―to die!
For God had cursed the leper!

It was noon,
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow,
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched
The loathsome water to his fevered lips,
Praying that he might be so blest,-to die!

-Footsteps approached; and, with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip,

Crying, "Unclean! Unclean!" and in the folds
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face,
He fell upon the earth till they should pass.
Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name.
"Helon!"-The voice was like the master-tone
Of a rich instrument, most strangely sweet;
And the dull pulses of disease awoke,
And, for a moment, beat beneath the hot
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill!
"Helon! arise!"—and he forgot his curse,
And rose and stood before Him.

Love and awe
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye,
As he beheld the stranger.-He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow
The symbol of a princely lineage wore ;-
No followers at His back,-nor in His hand
Buckler, or sword, or spear;-yet in His mien
Command sat throned serene; and if He smiled,
A kingly condescension graced His lips,

A lion would have crouched to in his lair.
His garb was simple, and His sandals worn,
His stature modelled with a perfect grace;
His countenance the impress of a God,
Touched with the opening innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky
In the serenest noon; His hair unshorn
Fell to His shoulders; and His curling beard
The fulness of perfected manhood bore.
-He looked on Helon earnestly awhile,
As if His heart were moved, and stooping down,
He took a little water in His hand,

And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!"
And lo! the scales fell from him; and his blood
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins,
And his dry palms grew moist; and on his brow
The dewy softness of an infant's stole :
His leprosy was cleansed; and he fell down
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped Him.

EXERCISE XV.-AMERICAN FREEDOM.—Dewey.

[In reading or declaiming the following passage, the blending of poetic beauty of style with energy of sentiment, demands attention to an earnest, yet chaste, expression in voice and action.]

Yes, let me be free; let me go and come at my own will; let me do business and make journeys, without a vexatious police or insolent soldiery, to watch my steps; let me think, and do, and speak, what I please, subject to no limit but that which is set by the common weal; subject to no law but that which conscience binds upon me; and I will bless my country, and love its most rugged rocks and its most barren soil.

I have seen my countrymen, and have been with them, a fellow-wanderer, in other lands; and little did I see or feel to warrant the apprehension, sometimes expressed, that foreign travel would weaken our patriotic attachments. One sigh for home,—home, arose from all hearts. And why, from palaces and courts,-why, from galleries of the arts, where the marble softens into life, and painting sheds an almost living presence of beauty around it,-why, from the mountain's awful brow, and the lovely valleys and lakes touched with the sunset hues of old romance,—why, from those venerable and touching ruins to which our very heart grows,—why, from all these scenes, were they looking beyond the swellings of the Atlantic wave, to a dearer and holier spot of earth, their own, own country? Doubtless, it was in part, because it is their country. But it was also, as every one's experience will testify, because they knew that there was no oppression, no pitiful exaction of petty tyranny; because that there, they knew, was no accredited and irresistible religious domination; because that there, they knew, they should not meet the odious soldier at every corner, nor swarms of imploring beggars, the victims of misrule; that there, no curse causeless did fall, and no blight, worse than plague and pestilence, descended amidst the pure dews of heaven, because, in fine, that there, they knew, was liberty, -upon all the green hills, and amidst all the peaceful valleys, -liberty, the wall of fire around the humblest home; the crown of glory, studded with her ever-blazing stars, upon the proudest mansion!

My friends, upon our own homes that blessing rests, that guardian care and glorious crown; and when we return to those homes, and so long as we dwell in them, so long as no oppressor's foot invades their thresholds, let us bless them,