Mal. Ad. Now, Saladin,

The word is given; I have nothing more
To fear from thee, my brother. I am not
About to crave a miserable life.

Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem,
Life were a burden to me: think not, either,
The justice of thy sentence, I would question.
But one request now trembles on my tongue, -
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon
Not even that shall torture, will it then,
Thinkest thou, thy slumbers render quieter,
Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect,
That when thy voice had doomed a brother's death,
The last request which e'er was his to utter,

Thy harshness made him carry to the grave?

Sal. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason To look for much indulgence here.

Mal. Ad. I have not!

Yet will I ask for it. We part forever;

This is our last farewell; the king is satisfied;
The judge has spoke the irrevocable sentence;
None sees, none hears, save that Omniscient Power,
Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon
Two brothers part like such. When in the face
Of forces once my own I'm led to death,
Then be thine eye unmoistened; let thy voice
Then speak my doom untrembling; then,
Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse!
But now I ask -
nay, turn not, Saladin !
I ask one single pressure of thy hand;

From that stern eye, one solitary tear,

Oh, torturing recollection! one kind word

[ness.

From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kindStill silent? Brother!. friend beloved companion

Of all my youthful sports, are they forgotten?

-

Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven
Let me not see this unforgiving man

Smile at my agonies! nor hear that voice

Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word,
One little word, whose cherished memory
Would soothe the struggles of departing life!
Yet, yet thou wilt! Oh, turn thee, Saladin!
Look on my face,

- thou canst not spurn me then;

Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel

For the last time, and call him –

Sal. [Seizing his hand.] Brother! brother!

Mal. Ad. [Breaking away.]

Death has not now

A single pang in store.

Now call thy followers.

Proceed! I'm ready.

Sal. Oh, art thou ready to forgive, my brother?

To pardon him who found one single error,
One little failing, 'mid a splendid throng

Of glorious qualities

Mal. Ad. Oh, stay thee, Saladin !

I did not ask for life, — I only wished
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave.
No, emperor, the loss of Cæsarea

Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel.
Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost
What cost them many a weary hour to gain,
Should expiate his offenses with his life.
Lo! even now, they crowd to view my death,
Thy just impartiality. I go,

Pleased by my fate, to add one other leaf

To thy proud wreath of glory.

[Going.]

Sal. Thou shalt not. [Enter Attendant.]

Atten. My lord, the troops, assembled by your order,

Tumultuous throng the courts.

The prince's death,

Not one of them but vows he will not suffer.

The mutes have fled,

the very guards rebel!

Nor think I in this city's spacious round,
Can e'er be found a hand to do the office.

Mal. Ad. O faithful friends!
Atten. Mine? Never!-

[To Atten.] Thine shalt.

The other first shall lop it from the body.

Sal. They teach the emperor his duty well. Tell them he thanks them for it: tell them, too, That ere their opposition reached our ears, Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel.

Atten. O joyful news!

I haste to gladden many a gallant heart,
And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek,
Unused to such a visitor.

[Exit.]

Sal. These men, the meanest in society,
The outcasts of the earth, – by war, by nature
Hardened and rendered callous, these who claim
No kindred with thee, - who have never heard
The accents of affection from thy lips, -
Oh! these can cast aside their vowed allegiance,
Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives
To save thee from destruction; while I,
I, who cannot in all my memory,

Call back one danger which thou hast not shared,
One day of grief, one night of revelry

Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed,

Or thy gay smile and converse rendered sweeter;

I, who have thrice in the ensanguined field,

When death seemed certain, only uttered- "Brother!"

And seen that form like lightning rush between

Saladin and his foes, and that brave breast,

Dauntless exposed to many a furious blow
Intended for my own, I could forget

That 't was to thee I owed the very breath

Which sentenced thee to perish. Oh, 't is shameful!
Thou canst not pardon me.

Mal. Ad. By these tears, I can.

O brother! from this very hour, a new,-
A glorious life commences: - I am all thine.
Again the day of gladness or of anguish,
Shall Malek Adhel share; and oft again
May this sword fence thee in the bloody field.
Henceforth, Saladin,

My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever.

LESSON C.

SELECT PARAGRAPHS.

1. EFFECT OF CLIMATE ON MIND.-RANDALL.

1. The effect of climate upon the character of individuals and of communities is known to be very important. The mind, in its present condition of existence, is dependent for its healthy and vigorous manifestation upon the degree of energy and elasticity with which the physical organs fulfill their functions. The inhabitants of the polar and equatorial regions, are subjected to the paralyzing and debilitating influences of the extremes of cold and heat; and, accordingly, we find their intellectual and moral faculties scarcely susceptible of any considerable development.

2. On the other hand, as we advance from the extremes to a more equable and temperate region, the mental incubus gradually disappears; and, in proportion to the salubrity and genial temperament of the climate, the mind in all its powers, becomes capable of expanding to a loftier and more substantial flight. Independently of the numerous illustrations which the past history and present condition of the inhabitants, occupying the various regions of the frigid, tem perate, and torrid zones, afford of the principle here adverted to, its existence is a legitimate deduction from the soundest

and best established theories of science and philosophy, in their application to the physical and mental constitution of our being.

2. TO THE CITIZENS OF BOSTON.- QUINCY.

Our ancestors have left no Corinthian temples on our hills, no Gothic cathedrals on our plains, no proud pyramid, no storied obelisk, in our cities. But mind is there. Sagacious enterprise is there. An active, vigorous, intelligent, moral population throng our cities, and predominate in our fields; men, patient of labor, submissive to law, respectful to authority, regardful of right, faithful to liberty. These are the monuments of our ancestors. They stand immutable and immortal, in the social, moral, and intellectual condition of their descendants. They exist in the spirit which their precepts instilled, and their examples implanted.

8. THE MISSIONARY'S OBJECT.-WAYLAND.

1. Point us to the loveliest village that smiles upon a Scottish or New-England landscape, and compare it with the filthiness and brutality of a Caffrarian kraal, and we tell you that our object is, to render that Caffrarian kraal as happy and as gladsome, as that Scottish or New-England village.

2. Point us to the spot on the face of the earth, where liberty is best understood and most perfectly enjoyed, where intellect shoots forth in its richest luxuriance, where all the kindlier feelings of the heart are constantly seen in the most graceful exercise, and where the religion of the Bible is felt and enjoyed by the people in all its elevating, sanctifying, and saving power; in a word, point us to the loveliest and happiest neighborhood in the world on which we dwell, and we tell you that our object is, to render this whole earth, with all its nations, and kindreds, and tongues, and people, as happy, nay, happier than such a neighborhood.