Alone on the bleak, cold mountain, Should gladly turn from a life accursed, To drown the past and quench the thirst In draughts from a poisonous fountain? He raised the cup to his trembling lipsLips wrinkled by age and hunger; The meagre pittance he'd begged for food, Brightened the palm of the man who stood At his bar with his wines around him. He drank, and turned on tottering feet To the bitter storm and the cold, dark street, Where a corpse in the morn they found him. And oh! could those speechless lips have told Of the want and sorrow, hunger and cold

He had known, or the answer given, When his trembling soul for entrance plead At the crystal gates, where One has said: "No drunkard shall enter Heaven!"

Well suppose he is-what then?
Don't let's act like crazy men.
Must we take to fooling when
Uncle Sam's a hundred?

There he stands-our modern Saul-
Head and shoulders above all;
Yet," Pride goes before a fall,”

E'en though one's a hundred.
"What's a hundred in our day?"
Foreign Uncle Sams will say;
"Let us sit and watch the play-
He is but a hundred.

"Granted he's a shapely youth-
Fair and ruddy-yet, forsooth!
He's too young-and that's the truth!
Only just a hundred.

"When he's twice as old, pard'e!
"Twill be easier to foresee

What will be his destiny,

Now he's but a hundred.

"When he's played his boyish pranks,
Should he seek to join our ranks
We'll reflect. But now-no thanks!
Why, he's but a hundred!”

Yes, our uncle's years are few;
He is young-the charge is true;
Let us keep that fact in view,
Though he counts a hundred.
Don't let's tempt him to ignore
Warnings that have gone before;
Perils both by sea and shore,
Now that he's a hundred.

Let us strive with earnest heart,
Each of us to do his part,
So that he may 'scape the smart,
Seeing he's a hundred.

And with solemn, grateful thought,
Of the deeds that he has wrought,
Guided, cherished, favored, taught,
Till he's reached a hundred.

Let us, as we vaunt his worth,
Mingle soberness with mirth,
While we shout to all the earth,
"Uncle Sam's a hundred."

-New York Evening Post.

INDEPENDENCE DAY.-REV. L. PARMELY.

AN ADDRESS TO AMERICAN YOUTH.

"The Fourth of July, 1776, will be the most remarkable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival." JOHN ADAMS, in a letter to his wife, July 7th, 1776. Independence Day! The booming cannon and rattling fire-arms! It is not the wrath of battle; but only echothunders, rolling back upon us from the great war-tempest of '76. Nor are these sounds now mingled with the cries of the wounded and groans of the dying,-mournfully terrific, swelling up from the field of blood. The report of guns and voice of artillery that fall on our ears to-day are all mellowed down into notes of enchanting music, and sweetly chime in with the glorious, triumphal anthem of our national jubilee.

Upon the youth of America is conferred the noblest birthright in the whole world. The stars under which you were born beam with brightest promise, and kindle loftiest hope. The principles declared and defended by our forefathers, "amid the confused noise of warriors, and garments rolled in blood,”—the great principle," that all men were created equal,” is the broad and only foundation of true greatness. The warguns of '76 exploded that long venerated theory, that royalty must flow alone through the veins of crowned lineage, and that princes could spring from the loins of kings. While in this land it is not possible for you to inherit a single drop of royal blood, yet in each of your bosoms is implanted the germ of a self-born sovereign. Before you all, without any miserable and silly distinction of ancestry or estate, is placed the brightest diadem of moral dignity, intellectual greatness, and civil honor. This country is, morally, a “free soil” empire. Here the young man--it matters not whether his nursery was in the gilded palace or in the "low thatched cottage"-has before him the same privileges and inducements and as wide and free an avenue to glory; and his gray hairs may possess the fresh dew of his country's benediction, and his name be enrolled among earth's true nobility.

But while full and equal encouragement is before you all, without respect of rank or circumstance, still the prize is only

for such as are willing to gird themselves unto the race; and the diligent hand alone reaps the harvest-honor. In our land something more is requisite to constitute one a prince than being born under a palace roof. Honorable parentage or the tinsel of wealth, are not sufficient to place the royal crown upon a brainless head. It is only by fixed purpose, intense application, and invincible perseverance, that you can reach the heights of fame, and hang out your name to shine forever in the bright galaxy of national glory. Here we have no heirs apparent to the crown-the great men of America are self-made. You bring into the world no other nobility than that with which the God of nature has endowed you-sovereignty of mind-the sceptre of genius; and in this freest, broadest field of action, you must become the architect of your own fortune-the master-builder of your own destiny. And now, in the morning glory of your waking energies, what a full chorus of inducements is inviting you forth to toil with the sure promise of a rich reward. Oh, how many young men, in the old world, would this day leap for joy, to gain, even "with a great price,” such privileges as belong to your birthright. With the halls of science, the council chambers of state, and the high places of empire all opening before you, let your motto be," I WILL TRY "--the watchword that never lost a battle in the moral world-the true key-note to the great anthem of self-coronation.

And while true greatness is gained only by mighty effort and persevering toil, this very effort develops the intellectual powers-mind waxes stronger in the fight, and strengthens in every new struggle, establishing a firm independence of character, and bringing out the bold features of individuality; like the oak, whose roots struggle down under the dark earth, and the crevices of the everlasting rocks, gaining a foundation of power, upon which it lifts up its head in towering majesty, defying the wrath of the wildest tempest. In countries where rank is obtained on the easy terms of ancestry, and a man becomes a king simply because his father before him was one, nobility relaxes into indolence of spirit, and imbecility of intellect; and royalty, with all its imposing honors, degenerates into mental dwarfishness, and the king's jester is often, really, a greater man than the

crowned head. The great men of America are intrinsically great-independent of their civil honors, they possess the power of intellectual giants.

And above all, let us remember that religion was the early harbinger, and continues the guardian angel of the American's birthright. The note of religious freedom struck on the rock of Plymouth, and was the grand prelude to the swelling anthem of civil liberty. None surely can doubt that the voice of the Almighty moved on the dark waters of the revolutionary struggle, and that His hand was in that sublime destiny which brought out on the blackest night of oppression the brightest star of empire! And now, the war-storm over, and the battle-thunder ceased, the precious blood of our forefathers that was poured out as a free shower upon the earth-those peerless drops are gathered over us in a bright bow of promise, spanning a continent, and resting on two oceans, attracting a world to "the land of the free and the home of the brave." But the fear of God is the great keystone in this bow of national hope-take away this, and the sunlit arch will vanish into the blackness of a second moral deluge.

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.-FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

In "Historical Collections of Pennsylvania" we find different accounts of this wonderful battle; one being an extract of a letter dated Philadelphia, Jan. 9, 1778, is as follows: "Sometime last week, a keg of singular construction was observed floating in the river. The crew of a barge attempting to take it up, it exploded, killed four of the hands, and wounded the rest. On Monday last, some kegs of a similar construction made their appearance. The alarm was immediately given. Various reports prevailed in the city, filling the royal troops with unspeakable consternation. Hostilities were commenced without much ceremony, and it was surprising to behold the incessant firing that was poured upon the enemy's kegs. Both officers and men exhibited unparalleled skill and prowess on the occasion; whilst the citizens stood gaping, as solemn witnesses of this dreadful scene. In truth, not a chip, stick, or drift-log passed by without experiencing the vigor of the British arms. The English commander was Sir William Howe.

Gallants, attend, and hear a friend

Trill forth harmonious ditty:

Strange things I'll tell, which late befell
In Philadelphia city.

"Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on a log of wood,
And saw a thing surprising.