. When e'en this stream, without a name, 10. No longer let me shun my part But with a warm and generous heart BÜR'NISHED. Polished. | 2 PŎN'DER-OŬS. Heavy. LXVII. — A LITTLE SERMON. 1. WHATSOE'ER you find to do, Or a little in the right. Trifles even Lead to heaven, Trifles make the life of man; So in all things, Great or small things, Be as thorough as you can. 2. If you think a word would please, Words may give delight with ease, Words may often Soothe and soften, Gild a joy or heal a pain; Yielding pleasures It is wicked to retain ! LXVIII. THE SISTERS. WHITTIER. 1. ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain, 2. The rush of wind, the ramp and roar 3. Annie rose up in her bed-gown white, And looked out into the storm and night. 4. "Hush, and hearken!" she cried in fear; “Hearest thou nothing, sister dear?" 5. "I hear the sea, and the plash of rain, And roar of the north-east hurricane. 6. "Get thee back to the bed so warm; No good comes of watching a storm. 7. "What is it to thee, I fain would know, That waves are roaring and wild winds blow? 8. 'No lover of thine's afloat to miss The harbor-lights on a night like this." 9. "But I heard a voice cry out my name; Up from the sea on the wind it came. 10. "Twice and thrice have I heard it call, And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!" 11. On her pillow the sister tossed her head. "Hall of the Heron is safe," she said. 12. "In the tautest schooner that ever swam He rides at anchor in Anisquam; 13. "And, if in peril from swamping sea Or lee shore rocks, would he call on thee?" 14. But the girl heard only the wind and tide, And wringing her small, white hands, she cried, 15. "O sister Rhoda, there's something wrong: I hear it again, so loud and long. 16. "Annie! Annie!' I hear it call, And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!" 17. Up sprang the elder, with eyes aflame; "Thou liest! He never would call thy name! 18. "If he did, I would pray the wind and sea To keep him forever from thee and me!" 19. Then out of the sea blew a dreadful blast; Like the cry of a dying man it passed. 20. The young girl hushed on her lips a groan, But through her tears a strange light shone 21. The solemn joy of her heart's release To own and cherish its love in peace. 22. "Dearest!" she whispered, under breath, "Life was a lie, but true is death. 23. "The love I hid from myself away 24. "My ears shall never to wooer list, Never by lover my lips be kissed. 25. "Sacred to thee am I henceforth, Thou in heaven, and I on earth!" 26. She came and stood by her sister's bed: "Hall of the Heron is dead!" she said. 27. "The wind and the waves their work have done; We shall see him no more beneath the sun. 28. "Little will reck that heart of thine; 29. "I, for his sake, were he but here, Could hem and broider thy bridal gear, " 30. Though hands should tremble and eyes be wet, And stitch for stitch in my heart be set. 31. But now my soul with his soul I wed; Thine the living, and mine the dead!" LXIX. THE RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF THE ORIGIN OF NEW ENGLAND. WEBSTER. [Daniel Webster was born in Salisbury, New Hampshire, January 18, 1782. He was one of the greatest men our country has ever produced, having been equally eminent as a statesman, a lawyer, and a writer. His style is remarkable for strength, dignity, simplicity, and manly eloquence. He died October 24, 1852. The following extract is the closing part of a discourse pronounced by him at Plymouth, December 22, 1820, in commemoration of the two hundredth anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims.] 1. OUR fathers were brought hither by their high veneration for the Christian religion: They journeyed by its light and labored in its hope. They sought to incorporate1 its principles with the elements of their society, and to diffuse its influence through all their institutions, civil, political, or literary. 2. Let us cherish these sentiments, and extend this influence still more widely, in the full conviction that that is the happiest society which partakes in the highest degree of the mild and peaceful spirit of Christianity. 3. The hours of this day are rapidly flying, and this occasion will soon be passed. Neither we nor our children can expect to behold its return. They are in the distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all-creating power of God, who shall stand here a hundred years hence, to trace, through us, their descent from the Pilgrims, and to survey, as we have now surveyed, the progress of their country during the lapse3 of a century. 4. We would anticipate their concurrence5 with us in our sentiments of deep regard for our common |