SEPTEMBER. 275 



child, the delicate woman, have from age to age, 

 in their last perils, in all their weaknesses and 

 emergencies, when power and cruelty were ready 

 to swallow them up, looked down and beheld the 

 million waves of despotism break at their feet : 

 have seen the rage of murderous armies, and 

 tyrants, the blasting spirit of ambition, fanaticism, 

 and crushing domination recoil from their bases in 

 despair ! " Thanks be to God for mountains !" is 

 often the exclamation of my heart as I trace the 

 History of the World. From age to age, they 

 have been the last friends of man. In a thousand 

 extremities they have saved him. What great, 

 hearts have throbbed in their defiles from the days 

 of Leonidas to those of Andreas Hofer! What 

 lofty souls, what tender hearts, what poor and per- 

 secuted creatures have they sheltered in their stony 

 bosoms from the weapons and tortures of their 

 fellow-men ! 



* 



Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 

 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold 1 



was the burning exclamation of Milton's agonized 

 and indignant spirit, as he beheld those sacred bul- 

 warks of freedom for once violated by the disturb- 

 ing demons of the earth ; and the sound of his fiery 

 and lamenting appeal to Heaven will be echoed in 

 every generous soul to the end of time. 



Thanks be to God for mountains ! The variety 

 which they impart to the glorious bosom of our 



