Year: 1870

wreck Of tyranny and oppression. And
then came another change. Those scat.
tered colonies became o nation wide and
strong, nation that grew nigh y among
the nations Of the earth. That land be-
came the terror of the oppressor and the
home OF the oppressed. The axe broke
in upon the solitary depths of the great
wilderness, and the green and waving
forests disappeared from herhill Towns,
cities, and villages sprung up on every
side and were peopled with people Of ev.
cry nation and cline, who left their fire.
sides in their own native lands and came
to dwell under the broad banner of hu.
man freedom, where they might bow the
knee to none but the Eternal One. The
iron German fed from his native shores.
The hardy Swede cast off the yoke Of
the tyrant, and the dark-haired Italian
came with the bold Switzer TO dwell in
the land Of the brave and be free forev-
er.


But while the long years were rolling
away, the first Martyr slept on uncon-
scious of the great change going on
around him. The fierce shock of con.
tending armies meeting in dark and
deadly combat, shook the old hills and
echoed loud and mournfully up the long
avenues Of the green vallies. He heard
not the roar. He woke not from his still
slumbers. And when great nations
people gathered together to rejoice, he
came not from his grave to rejoice with
them-no! He slept on, and he stiA
sleeps where his rude comrades laid him
down to rest long years ago. Seventy
times have the gathered storms of winter
moaned loud and bitterly around his
grave, and the pure snow, drifting with
out echo to the whitening ground, has
hid it from the gaze Of the thoughtless
passer by. Seventy times has the re-
turning sunshine of spring made the
turf look fresh and green over his breast,
made the virgin wild flowers blossom in
the mysterious depths of the green wood,
and the living breezes, wandering out
from the blue ethereal chambers of the
West, have waited their grateful odors
around his grave. Yet he is not forgot
ten!


But few days since wandered alone
through our village grave. ard. There
are many graves there, and many rows
of white marbles to tell the living where
the dead repose; and fingered long
time among them, reading the inscrip-
tions and musing over the past. The
poor mans grave was there, and the gid
ed tombs of the rich, but l passed them
all by and sat down beside the grave of
that murdered youth. The sweet sum-
mer had fled and the autumn wind sigh
ed mournfully through the bare branches
of the trees. The grass was withered
and the dead leaves rustled above his
grave. | read the inscription on the
dark brown slate stone which stands at
the head Of his grave-the name of Will
liam French, and the rude and unskilled
rhyme beneath it, and / fell into heavy
reverie and pondered long on the sad
fate of the brave youth. And as l sat
there fancied that heard voice come
from that grave. 1t was low at first and
my ear could scarcely catch the sound,
but it grew louder and louder until it
woke nation from it's sleep and it cast
off its shackles and became free.


I awoke from my reverie and stole
j noislessly out of the graveyard, leaving
the dead I" alone with his glory" But
this voice haunted me still. heard it
by daylight, and in my midnight dreams
it rung in my ear. That voice set our
own land free and taught the oppressor
lesson Of terror, and since then it has
hurled the proud Frenchman into the
dust and given the ashes Of his royal
throne to the four winds OF heaven. And
now it thunders at the heart of the Aus
trian tyrant, whose crown ere long, shall,
with the Russian and Briton's, be trod-
den under foot forever!


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c.-..-x. Vrr Tprx, Croc, VIZ.