Blood is rejected,
Men bow no more to the accident Birth,
Mind, long dejected,
Her temple erected,
Waits from the Nations the homage of Worth.

Come, let us be merry!
All hearts that with scoff
And derision have waited
This day afar off;
Abuses are shaking
Old Errors are quaking,
That cramped the free life of our manhood so long,
Hail to the waking!
The daylight is breaking
For Truths that are mighty and men that are strong.

FEATHERTOP: A MORALIZED LEGEND.[2]

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

"With that brass alone," quoth Mother Rigby, "thou canst pay thy way all
over the earth. Kiss me, pretty darling! I have done my best for thee."

Furthermore, that the adventurer might lack no possible advantage
towards a fair start in life, this excellent old dame gave him a token,
by which he was to introduce himself to a certain magistrate, member of
the council, merchant, and elder of the church (the four capacities
constituting but one man), who stood at the head of society in the
neighboring metropolis. The token was neither more nor less than a
single word, which Mother Rigby whispered to the scarecrow, and which
the scarecrow was to whisper to the merchant.

"Gouty as the old fellow is, he'll run thy errands for thee, when once
thou hast given him that word in his ear," said the old witch. "Mother
Rigby knows the worshipful Justice Gookin, and the worshipful Justice
knows Mother Rigby!"

Here the witch thrust her wrinkled face close to the puppet's, chuckling
irrepressibly, and fidgeting all through her system, with delight at the
idea which she meant to communicate.

"The worshipful Master Gookin," whispered she, "hath a comely maiden to
his daughter! And hark ye, my pet! Thou hast a fair outside, and a
pretty wit enough of thine own. Yea; a pretty wit enough! Thou wilt
think better of it when thou hast seen more of other people's wits. Now,
with thy outside and thy inside, thou art the very man to win a young
girl's heart. Never doubt it! I tell thee it shall be so. Put but a bold
face on the matter, sigh, smile, flourish thy hat, thrust forth thy leg
like a dancing-master, put thy right hand to the left side of thy
waistcoat, and pretty Polly Gookin is thine own!"

All this while, the new creature had been sucking in and exhaling the
vapory fragrance of h