254 SEPTEMBER. 



upon them as the unconquerable abodes of free 

 hearts; as the stern, heaven-built walls from 

 which the few, the feeble, the persecuted, the 

 despised, the helpless 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 blast- 

 ing 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 His- 

 tory 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 persecuted creatures have they sheltered in 

 their stony bosoms from the weapons and tor- 

 tures of their fellow-men ! 



Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 

 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ! 



was the burning exclamation of Milton's ago- 

 nized and indignant spirit, as he beheld those 

 sacred bulwarks of freedom for once violated by 

 the disturbing demons of the earth ; and the 



