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"I wish you 'd let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great eagerness.

"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle, hurriedly. I really think you had better," said Allen.


"Thank you,” replied Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather not."

"What do you think, Mr. Pickwick ?" inquired Bob Sawyer.

Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said, in a stern voice, “Take his skates off!"


No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle.

"Take his skates off!" repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly. The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it, in silence.

"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise.

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words :— "You're a humbug, sir!"

"A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.

"A humbug, sir! I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir!"

With these words Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoined his friends.




ROM each age in every story shines one figure-head sublime;

One grand master-spirit, building towers from the wrecks of time;

One man who could find pure lilies, where the rest saw only slime.

With a daring born of purpose, he has risked and won his life,

And the world bows down and worships him, the hero in the strife;

Knowing nothing of the power that gave impulse to his life.

Could we draw aside the curtain, how amazed the world would stand,

That the whole campaign of reason by a woman had been planned,

And the armor had been buckled by a fearless mother's hand.

Or the hero stands in silence at the brink of Slough


All forgot and sought by no one, save one woman true and fond;

But her impulse builds his purpose, reaching up to the Beyond.

When a grand, pure poem rings down the ages, undefiled, And we seek to know the wherefore, looking mid the wind and wild,

Oft we find the motive power was the lisping of a child;

And the poem had not reached us if a woman had not


Holding up the poet's courage, till the world pronounced it good.

Which deserves the greater credit? both have done the things they could.

Women there have been who failed men in the hour of sorest need,

And the world has heard and cursed them for the failure of the deed;

But of women soul-devoted, patient, seldom do we


It is well God over-rules it-blame of failure comes from


But reward for best endeavor only crowns us truly,


We lay aside the dusty garments, and the King shall come again.

Every good strong deed of greatness has a woman at its


Or a little child with sunshine fresh from heaven upon its face;

Watching carefully the building, that each stone fits in its place.

To some few the word is given, "Go ye forth and build your own,"


you need not stop to seek it, God Himself will make

it known;

You cannot misunderstand it, it will come to you


It is grand to be a woman standing very near to God, Seeing with her heaven-born instinct every step that He has trod;

Searching in the darkest science, till she finds it bright with God.

Do you count her power as nothing? this great thing a trifle call?

Why, life's trifles are its great things, and its great things are the small.

She who knows the power of nothings holds the greatest power of all.

What is nobler for a woman, than to know within her


Is the destiny of nations, and the fate of many lands? What can make a woman greater than the power she now commands.

Think not that the country's ballot is the only power to wield;

God has given each a mission, we may always find some field:


you think He counts it nobler to be more a sword than shield?

Better be an inspiration, play the harp-strings of some


Than to blow Fame's silver bugle, though through continents it roll,

Better be a useful fragment, than a damaged, useless whole.

Better be behind the curtain, and to feel yourself a


Than to lose the power of ruling, though with sceptre

you are seen;

Better be a queenly woman, than unwomanly, a queen.

'Tis not angels we are wanting on this busy restless earth,

It is noble, earnest women who prize well the right of


Women who are looking upward, knowing well what life is worth,

Even though their life be hidden, just content to work


Till the last great task is ended, till the dawning of

the day;

Knowing it shall stand exalted when God lifts the veil




BREAK up the Union of these States, because there

are acknowledged evils in our system? Is it so easy a matter, then, to make everything in the actual world conform exactly to the ideal pattern we have conceived in our minds of absolute right? Suppose the fatal blow were struck, and the bonds which fasten together these States were severed, would the evils and mischiefs that would be experienced by those who are actually members of this vast republican community be All that would ensue? Certainly not. We are connected with the several nations and races of the world

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