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But see! he has stepped on the railing; he climbs

with his feet and his hands;

And firm on a narrow projection, with the belfry beneath him, he stands;

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Now once, and once only, they cheer him, a single tempestuous breath,

And there falls on the multitude gazing a hush like the stillness of death.

Slow, steadily mounting, unheeding aught save the goal of the fire,

Still higher and higher, an atom, he moves on the face of the spire.

He stops! Will he fall? Lo! for answer, a gleam like a meteor's track,

And, hurled on the stones of the pavement, the red brand lies shattered and black.

Once more the shouts of the people have rent the quivering air:

At the church-door mayor and council wait with their feet on the stair;

And the eager throng behind them press for a touch of his hand,

The unknown savior, whose daring could compass a deed so grand.

But why does a sudden tremor seize on them while they gaze?

And what meaneth that stifled murmur of wonder and

amaze?

He stood in the gate of the temple he had periled his

life to save;

And the face of the hero, my children, was the sable face of a slave!

With folded arms he was speaking, in tones that were clear, not loud,

And his eyes, ablaze in their sockets, burnt into the eyes of the crowd:

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"You may keep your gold: I scorn it!

me, ye who can,

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If the deed I have done before you be not the deed of a man?"

He stepped but a short space backward; and from all the women and men

There were only sobs for answer; and the mayor called for a pen,

And the great seal of the city, that he might read who

ran:

And the slave who saved St. Michael's went out from its door a man.

[RS.

MRS. SIDDONS.

RS. SIDDONS, as an artist, presented a singular example of the union of all the faculties, mental and physical, which constitute excellence in her art, directed to the end for which they seemed created. In any other situation or profession, some one or other of her splendid gifts would have been misplaced or dormant.

It was her especial good fortune, and not less that of the time in which she lived, that this wonderful combination of mental powers and external graces was fully and completely developed by the circumstances in which she was placed.

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With the most commanding beauty of face and form, and varied grace of action; with the most noble combination of features, and extensive capability of expression in each of them; with an unequalled genius for her art, the utmost patience in study, and the strongest ardor of feeling, there was not a passage which she could not delineate; not the nicest shade, not the most delicate modification of passion, which she could not seize with philosophical accuracy, and render with such immediate force of nature and truth, as well as precision, that what was the result of profound study and unwearied practice, appeared like sudden inspiration. There was not a height of grandeur to which she could not soar, nor a darkness of misery to which she could not descend; not a chord of feeling, from the sternest to the most delicate, which she could not cause to vibrate at her will. She had reached that point of perfection in her art where it ceases to be art, and becomes a second nature.

She had studied most profoundly the forms and capabilities of language, so that the most critical sagacity could not have suggested a delicacy of emphasis by which the meaning of the author might be more distinctly conveyed; or a shade of intonation by which the sentiment could be more fully or more faithfully expressed.

The grand characteristic of her mind was power, but it was power of a very peculiar kind; it was slowly roused, slowly developed, not easily moved; her perceptions were not rapid, nor her sensations quick; she required time for everything,-time to think, time to comprehend, time to speak. There was nothing superficial about her, no vivacity of manner; to petty

gossip she would not descend, and evil speaking she abhorred; she cared not to shine in general conversation.

Like some majestic "Argosie," bearing freight of precious metal, she was aground and cumbrous and motionless among the shallows of common life; but set her upon the deep waters of poetry and passion there was her element, there was her reign. Ask her an opinion, she could not give it you till she had looked on the subject, and considered it on every side,

then you might trust to it without appeal. Her powers, though not easily put in motion, were directed by an incredible energy; her mind, when called to action, seemed to rear itself up like a great wave of the sea, and roll forwards with an irresistible force.

This prodigious intellectual power was one of her chief characteristics. Another was truth, which in the human mind is generally allied with power. It is, I think, a mistaken idea, that habits of impersonation on the stage tend to impair the sincerity or the individuality of a character.

Her mind was a perfect mirror of the sublime and beautiful; like a lake that reflected only the heavens above, or the summits of the mountains around, nothing below a certain level could appear in it. The ideal was her vital air. She breathed with difficulty in the atmosphere of this "working-day world," and withdrew from it as much as possible.

She was credulous, simple, to an extraordinary degree. Profession had, therefore, too much weight with her. She was accustomed to manifestations of the sentiments she excited, and in seeking the demon

stration, sometimes overlooked the silent reality; this was a consequence of her profession.

She was not only exact in the performance of her religious duties; her religion was a pervading sentiment, influencing her to the strictest observance of truth and charity,—I mean charity in judging others; the very active and excursive benevolence which

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'Seeks the duty, nay, prevents the need,"

would have been incompatible with her toilsome engrossing avocations, and with the visionary tendencies of her character. But the visionary has his own sphere of action, and can often touch the master springs of other minds, so as to give the first impulse to the good deeds flowing from them.

There are some who can trace back to the sympathies which Mrs. Siddons awakened, their devotedness to the cause of the suffering and oppressed. Faithfully did she perform the part in life which she believed allotted to her; and who may presume to judge that she did not choose the better part?

Mrs. Jameson.

THE LORE-LEI.

A witch, who, in the form of a lovely maiden, used to place herself on the remarkable rock called the Lurleyberg, overlooking the Rhine, and by her magic songs arresting the attention of the boatmen, lured them into the neighboring whirlpool.

KNOW not whence it rises,
This thought so full of woe;
But a tale of times departed
Haunts me, and will not go.

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