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Death has not now
A single pang in store.

Proceed! I'm ready.

Sal. O, 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. O, stay thee, Saladin !
I did not ask for life. I only wished
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave.
No, Emperor, the loss of Cesarea
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 offences 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! [To Atten.] Thine shalt
Atten. Mine? Never!

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 visiter. [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,
O, 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,

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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

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That 't was to thee I owed the very breath
Which sentenced thee to perish! O, '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!


ARE all content?

A nation's rights betrayed, and all content?
What! with your own free willing hands yield up
The ancient fabric of your constitution,

To be a garrison for common cut-throats!
What! will ye all combine to tie a stone,
Each to each other's neck, and drown like dogs?
Are you so bound in fetters of the mind
That there you sit, as if you were yourselves
Incorporate with the marble? Syracusans!
But no! I will not rail, nor chide, nor curse you!
I will implore you, fellow-countrymen,
With blinded eyes, and weak and broken speech,
I will implore you— O! I am weak in words,
But I could bring such advocates before you!
Your fathers' sacred images; old men,

That have been grandsires; women with their children,
Caught up in fear and hurry, in their arms;

And those old men should lift their shivering voices
And palsied hands, and those affrighted mothers
Should hold their innocent infants forth, and ask,
Can you make slaves of them?





You heard from my learned friend, Gentlemen of the Jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred pounds. The plaintiff, Gentlemen, is a widow; yes, Gentlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before his death, became the father, Gentlemen, of a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell-street; and here she placed in her front parlor-window a written placard, bearing this inscription, "Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within." Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, Gentlemen, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear, she had no distrust, - all was confidence and reliance. "Mr. Bardell," said the widow, "was a man of honor, Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, - Mr. Bardell was no deceiver, Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and consolation; in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, Gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlor-window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor-window three days, three days, Gentlemen, a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house! He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. man was Pickwick, Pickwick, the defendant!


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Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but few attractions; and I, Gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, Gentlemen,

the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villany. I say systematic villany, Gentlemen; and when I say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in Court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, further, that a counsel, in his discharge of his duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.

I shall show you, Gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to you, that on one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage: previously, however, taking special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn contract; and I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends, most unwilling witnesses, Gentlemen, most unwilling witnesses, that on that morning he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments.

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And now, Gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties, letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye, — letters that were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first: twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B. - Chops and Tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and Tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious Heavens! And Tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. "Dear Mrs. B., I shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression,-"Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The warming-pan! Why, Gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire-a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion? And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know, it may be a reference

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to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, Gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon be greased by you!

But enough of this, Gentlemen. It is difficult to smile with an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is gone indeed. The bill is down but there is no tenant! Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass but there is no invitation for them to inquire within, or without! All is gloom and silence in the house; even the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded, when his other weeps. But Pickwick, Gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell-street, — Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the sward, — Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato-sauce and warmingpans, - Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made! Damages, Gentlemen, heavy damages, is the only punishment with which you can visit him, the only recompense you can award to my client! And for those damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative Jury of her civilized countrymen !

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2. THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING. — Thomas Hood. Born, 1798; died, 1845.

How hard, when those who do not wish to lend, thus lose, their books,
Are snared by anglers, folks that fish with literary Hooks,
Who call and take some favorite tome, but never read it through;
They thus complete their set at home, by making one at you.

I, of my "Spenser" quite bereft, last winter sore was shaken;
Of" Lamb" I've but a quarter left, nor could I save my "Bacon;"
And then I saw my "Crabbe," at last, like Hamlet, backward go;
And, as the tide was ebbing fast, of course I lost my "Rowe."

My "Mallet" served to knock me down, which makes me thus a talker;

And once, when I was out of town, my "Johnson " proved a "Walker." While studying, o'er the fire, one day, my "Hobbes," amidst the smoke, They bore my "Colman" clean away, and carried off my "Coke."

They picked my "Locke," to me far more than Bramah's patent worth,
And now my losses I deplore, without a "Home" on earth.
If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal,

For though I caught them stealing "Swift," as swiftly went my "Steele."


Hope" is not now upon my shelf, where late he stood elated; But what is strange, my "Pope" himself is excommunicated.

My little "Suckling" in the grave is sunk to swell the ravage;

And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 't was mine to lose, — a "Savage.”

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