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This is an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be “
weary in well90 doing," from the thought of having much to do. The
present moment is all we have to do with, in any sense; the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next
Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we 95 had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to set
but one step at a time, and this process continued, would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a
minute the exertion of hours. 100 Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recol
lect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies,
and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last:105 if one could be borne, so can another and another.
It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in reso
lutions for the future, which the present never fulfils. 110 It is not thus with those, who, by patient continu
ance in well-doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality.” Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time
and strength is proportioned; and thus, having worked 115 while it was called day, they at length rest from their
labours, and their works “ follow them.” Let us then, or whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time.”
Valedictory Hymn.-N. Adams. Sung by the Senior Class, at the close of the Anniversary Exercises in the Thea
logical Seminary, Andover, Sept. 1829.
Are the messengers of peace,
Through a Saviour's righteousness;
“ Heralds of my Cross, arise!
See thy servants waiting stand;
In our songs of social praise,
We shall never
On the mount of God above;
Saviour, bring us
Exercise 123. Scene from Pizarro....Pizarro and Gomez.-KOTZEBUÉ. Piz. How now, Gomez, what bringest thou?
Gom. On yonder hill, among the palm trees, we have surprised an old Peruvian. Escape by flight he could not, and we seized him unresisting.
Piz. Drag him before us. [Gomez leads in Orozembo.] What art thou, stranger?
Oro. First tell me who is the captain of this band of robbers.
Piz. Audacious! This insolence has sealed thy doom. Die thou shalt, gray headed ruffian. But first confess what thou knowest.
Oro. I know that which thou hast just assured me of, that I shall die.
Piz. Less audacity might have preserved thy life.
Piz. Hear me, old man. Even now we march against the Peruvian army. We know there is a secret path that leads to your strong hold among the rocks. Guide us to that, and name thy reward. If wealth be thy wish
Oro. Ha, ha, ha!
Oro. Yes, thee and thy offer! Wealth! I have the wealth of two gallant sons.
I have stored in heaven the riches which repay good actions here! and still my chiefest treasure do I wear about me.
Piz. What is that? Inform me.
Oro. I will, for thou canst never tear it from me. An unsullied conscience.
Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares speak as thou dost.
Oro. Would I could believe there is no other Spaniard who dares act as thou dost.
Obdurate Pagan! how numerous is your army? Oro. Count the leaves of the forest. Gom. Which is the weakest part of your camp? Oro. It is fortified on all sides by justice.
Gom. Where have you concealed your wives and children?
Oro. In the hearts of their husbands and fathers.
Oro. Know him! Alonzo! Our nation's benefactor, the guardian angel of Peru!
Piz. By what has he merited that title?
Piz. Who is this Rolla, joined with Alonzo in command?
Oro. I will answer that, for I love to speak the hero's
name. Rolla, the kinsman of the king, is the idol of our army. In war a tiger, in peace a lamb. Cora was once betrothed to him, but finding she preferred Alonzo, he resigned his claim for Cora's happiness. Piz. Romantic savage! I shall meet this Rolla soon.
Oro. Thou hadst better not! the terrors of his noble eye would strike thee dead.
Gom. Silence, or tremble!
Oro. Beardless robber! I never yet have learned to tremble before man-Why before thee, thou less than man!
Gom. Another word, audacious heathen, and I strike! Oro. Strike, Christian! then boast among thy fellows, "I too, have murdered a Peruvian.'
Sentinel, Rolla and Alonzo.-KOTZEBUE.
[Enter Rolla disguised as a monk.] Rolla. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined in this dungeon?
Sent. He is.
Rolla. [Advancing towards the door.] Soldier-I must speak with him.
Sent. [Pushing him back with his gun.] Back! back! it is impossible.
Rolla. I do entreat you but for one moment.
Rolla. Look on this wedge of massy gold! Look on these precious gems. In thy land they will be wealth for thee and thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them, they are thine, let me but pass one moment with Alonzo.
Sent. Away! Wouldst thou corrupt me? Me, an old Castilian! I know my duty better.
Rolla. Soldier! hast thou a wife?
Rolla. Hast thou children?
Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born.
Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children?
Rolla. Soldier! Imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a strange land—What would be thy last request?
Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying olessing to my wife and children.
Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and should there be told, thy fellow soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife—what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door?
Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend.
Sent. Go in. Erit Sentinel.]
[Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.]
Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon; now take it thou, and fly.
Alon. And Rolla-
Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, not Rolla's; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert; nothing lives beneath my
shelter. Thou art a husband and a father; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go! go! Alonzo, not to save thyself, but Cora, and thy child.