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by the encumbrance of ideas which we have not mastered and cannot use.

We have some vague idea, for instance, that constitutional government and slavery are inconsistent with each other; that there is a connection between private judgment and democracy, between Christianity and civilization; we attempt to find arguments in proof, and our arguments are the most plain demonstration that we simply do not understand the things themselves, of which we are professedly treating.

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[EMMA, the mother of ALBERT, alone.]

Emma. O the fresh morning! Heaven's kind mes

senger,

That never empty-handed comes to those

Who will best use its gifts. Praise be to Him! [Enter ALBERT.]

Albert. My mother!

Em. Albert! Bless thee!

How early were you up?

Alb. Before the sun.

Em. Ay, strive with him. He never lies in bed When it is time to rise. Be like the sun.

Alb. What you would have me like, I'll be like, As far as will to labor joined can make me.

Em. Well said, my boy! Knelt you when you got up To-day?

Alb. I did, and do so every day.

Em. I know you do;

And think you when you kneel

To whom you kneel?

Alb. To Him who made me, mother.

Em. And in whose name?

Alb. In the name of Him who died

For me and all men, that all men and I
Might live.

Em. That's right! Remember that, my son;Forget all things but that-remember that!

"Tis more than friends or fortune, clothing, food,-All things of earth,-Yes, life itself. It is

To live, when these are gone where they are naught With God!-My son, remember that!

Alb. I will!

Em. I'm glad you mind the things you're taught. That is the lesson of content, my son;

He who finds which, has all,-who misses, nothing! Alb. Content is a good thing.

Em. A thing the good

Alone can profit by.

Alb. My father's good.

Em. What sayest thou, boy?

Alb. I say my father's good.

Em. Yes, he is good! what then?

Alb. I do not think

He is content,-I'm sure he's not content;
Nor would I be content were I a man,
And Gesler seated on the rock of Altorf!
A man may lack content, and yet be good.

Em. I did not say all good men found content.

I would be busy; leave me.

Alb. You are not angry!

Em. No, no, my boy.

Alb. You'll kiss me?

Em. Will I not!

The time will come when you'll not ask your

mother

To kiss you!

Alb.

Never!

Em. Not when you're a man?

Alb. I'll never be a man to see that time!

I'd rather die now, when I am a child,

Than live to be a man, and not love you!

Em. Live, live, to be a man, and love your mother!

[They embrace,-ALBERT runs off.]

Why should my heart shrink! 'Tis for this we rear

them!

Cherish their tiny limbs,-pine if a thorn

But mar their tender skin,-gather them to us
Closer than a miser hugs his bags of gold!
We send them forth into a wintry world
To brave its flaws and tempests! Nestling as
He is, he is the offspring of a bird

That knows no cowering wing!

[Re-enter ALBERT with a bow and arrows, and a rude target, which he sets up, laying the bow and quiver on the ground. What have you there?

Alb. My bow and arrow, mother.

Em. When will you use them like your father, boy?

Alb. Some time, I hope.

Em. You boast! There's not an archer

In all Helvetia, can compare with him!

Alb. But I'm his son; and when I am a man,

I may be like him. Mother, do I boast

To think I may some time be like my father?

For, ever as I wonder at his skill,

He calls me boy, and says I must do more,
Ere I become a man.

Em. May you be such

A man as he,-if Heaven wills, better. I'll
Not quarrel with its work; yet 't will content me,
If you are only such a man!

Alb. I'll show you

How I can shoot. [Shoots at the target.] Look, mother! there's within

An inch!

Em. O fie! it wants a hand. [Goes out.]

Alb. A hand's

An inch for me. I'll hit it yet. Now for it! [Shoots again. [Enter TELL, watching ALBERT some time in silence.]

Tell. There's scarce a miss that comes so near the

mark!

Well aimed, young Archer!

bends

With what ease he

The bow! To see those sinews, who'd believe

Such strength did lodge in them? That little arm,
His mother's palm can span, may help anon

To pull a sinewy tyrant from his seat;
And from their chains a prostrate people lift
To liberty. I'd be content to die,

Living to see that day. What, Albert!

Alb. Ah! My father! [Running to his father.]
Em. [Wife of TELL, coming from the cottage.] William,
Welcome, welcome, William !

I did not look for you till noon, and thought
How long 't would be ere noon would come. You're

come!

Now this is happiness! Joy's double joy

That comes before the time!

Tell. You raise the bow

Too fast. [To ALBERT, who has returned to his practice.] Bring 't slowly to the eye. [ALBERT shoots.]

missed!

How often have you hit the mark to-day?

Alb. Not once yet.

Tell. You're not steady. I perceived

You've

You wavered now. Stand firm!-let every limb
Be braced as marble, and as motionless.

Stand like the sculptor's statue on the gate
Of Altorf, that looks life, yet neither breathes
Nor stirs. [ALBERT shoots.] That's better!

Em. William, William! O,

To be the parents of a boy like that!—

Why speak you not? and wherefore do you sigh?

Tell. You've missed again!

[ALBERT shoots.

Dost see the mark? Rivet your eye to it!
There let it stick, fast as the arrow would,
Could you but send it there.

Em. Why, William, don't you answer me?

[ALBERT shoots.

Tell. Again! How would you fare Suppose a wolf should cross your path, and you, Alone, with but your bow, and only time To fix a single arrow! "T would not do To miss the wolf! You said the other day, Were you a man, you'd not let Gesler live. 'T was easy to say that. Suppose you now, Your life or his depended on that shot!Take care! That's Gesler!-Now for liberty! Right to the tyrant's heart!

[ALBERT shoots and hits the mark.

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