'Twas the blood of the Saxon within them that ran

'Tis the night—the night Of the grave's delight, And the warlocks are at their play! Ye think that without, The wild winds shout, But no, it is they—it is they!

And so we shake The snowy flake From cedar and myrtle fair; And the boughs that nod On the hills of God, We raise to his glory there.

'Tis not how witty, nor how free, Nor yet how beautifull she be, But how much kinde and true to me.

Wages is a cunning device of the devil, for the benefit of tender consciences, who would retain all the advantages of the slave system, without the expense, trouble, and odium of being slave-holders.

I have seen no Hindu who seemed to me prepared intellectually and morally for the freedom he would find in American society; nor are Americans prepared for the air of innocence and exaltation worn by very undeserving Orientals.

The day you make soldiers of them is the beginning of the end