"I break the chains that have been clanging
Down through the dim vault of ages;
I gird up my strength,—mind and arm,—
And prepare for the terrible conflict.
I am to war with principalities, powers, wrongs
With oppressions,—with all that curse humanity.
I am resolved. 'Tis more than half my task;
'Twas the great need of all my past existence.
The glooms that have so long shrouded me,
Recede as vapor from the new presence,
And the light-gleam—it must be life—
So brightens and spreads its pure rays before,
That I read my mission as 'twere a book,
It is life; life in which none but men—
Not those who only wear the form—can live
To give this life to the World; to make men
Out of the thews and sinews of oppressed slaves."
Mr. Wilson is a teacher, and whether the following is drawn from his own experience, or not, we are left to conjecture.
THE TEACHER AND HIS PUPIL.
Scene.—School Room. School in session.
Dramatis Personæ.
Teacher. A bachelor rising thirty.
Pupil. A beautiful girl of sixteen.
I see that curling and high-archéd brow.
"Scold thee?" Ay, that I will.
Pouting I see thee still;
