While, instantaneous as his fall, Thus Switzerland again was free- I NOBILITY OF LABOR. CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken down; and it has been broken down, for ages. Let it, then, be built up again; here, if anywhere, on these shores of a new world-of a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down? Do not men toil? it may be said. They do, indeed, toil; but they too generally do it because they must. Many submit to it as, in some sort, a degrading necessity; and they desire nothing so much on earth as to escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the letter, but break it in the spirit; fulfil it with the muscle, but break it with the mind. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of improvement. But so is he not impelled to do, under the teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy workshop and dusty laborfield; of thy hard hand, scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to Nature- it is impiety to Heaven - it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat - toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility ! LABOR IS WORSHIP. Laborare est orare - To labor is to pray. AUSE not to dream of the future before us; PAT come o'er us; Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus, "Labor is worship!"- the robin is singing; Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart. Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part. Labor is life! "Tis the still water faileth; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth; Labor is glory!-the flying cloud lightens; Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens; Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune! Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee! Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee! Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee; Rest not content in thy darkness Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God! A THE ORDER OF NATURE. LL are but parts of one stupendous whole, Lives through all life, extends through all extent, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, Cease, then, nor Order, Imperfection name- Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, AMERICA'S CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE WORLD. HAT, it is asked, has this nation done to repay the world WHA it is has fivis neceived from othepay the world thing for the universal good of mankind to have carried into successful operation a system of self-government - uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion, and equality of rights, with national power and dignity - such as had before existed only in the Utopian dreams of philosophers? Is it nothing, in moral science, to have anticipated, in sober reality, numerous plans of reform in civil and criminal jurisprudence, which are but now received as plausible theories by the politicians and economists of Europe? Is it nothing to have been able to call forth, on every emergency, either in war or peace, a body of talents always equal to the difficulty? Is it nothing to have, in less than half a century, exceedingly improved the sciences of political economy, of law, and of medicine, with all their auxiliary branches; to have enriched human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of useful facts and observations, and to have augmented the power and the comforts of civilized man by miracles of mechanical invention? Is it nothing to have given the world examples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of public virtue; of learning, eloquence, and valor, never exerted save for some praiseworthy end? It is sufficient to have briefly suggested these considerations; every mind would anticipate me in filling up the details. No, land of liberty!—thy children have no cause to blush for thee. What, though the arts have reared few monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's footstep is found in the paths of our forests, or along the banks of our rivers-yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes, and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become one vast temple and hallowed asylum, sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the persecuted of every sect, and the wretched of all nations. Land of refuge land of benedictions! they still are heard: "May peace teousness within thy palaces!" leading into captivity, and no "May truth flourish out of the down from heaven!" 66 those prayers still arise, and be within thy walls, and plen'May there be no decay, no complaining in thy streets!" earth, and righteousness look OUR DUTY TO OUR COUNTRY. HE Old World has already revealed to us, in its unsealed gles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, "The land of scholars and the nurse of arms," where sister republics, in fair procession, chanted the praises of liberty and the gods - where and what is she? For two thousand years the oppressor has ground her to the earth. Her arts are no more. The last sad relics of her temples are but the barracks of a ruthless soldiery. The fragments of her columns and her palaces are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruins. She fell not when the mighty were upon her. Her sons were united at Thermopyla and Marathon, and the tide of her triumph rolled back upon the Hellespont. She was conquered by her own factions. She fell by the hands of her own people. The man of Macedonia did not the work of destruction. It was already done by her own corruptions, banishments, and dissensions. Rome, republican Rome, whose eagles glanced in the rising and setting sun — where and what is she? The eternal city yet remains, proud even in her desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as in the composure of death. The malaria has but travelled in the paths worn by her destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have mourned over the loss of her empire. A mortal disease was upon her vitals before Cæsar had crossed the Rubicon; and Brutus did not restore her health by the deep probings of the senate chamber. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, the swarms of the North, completed only what was already begun at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought and sold; but the people offered the tribute money. We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experiment of self-government by the people. We have begun it under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions have never been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the Old World. Such as we are, we have been from the beginning—simple, hardy, intelligent, |