- ■■■■: ': i ■ •■■ ■"* THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SOUTHERN SPEAKER CONTAINING SELECTIONS FROM THE OR A- TIONS, ADDRESSES AND WRITINGS OF THE BEST-KNOWN SOUTHERN ORATORS, SOUTHERN STATES- MEN AND SOUTHERN A UTHORS TOGETHER WITH EXTRACTS FROM THE RAREST GEMS OF PROSE AND POETRY EVER WRITTEN BY D. BARTON ROSS, A.M. Compiled /or use in Southern Schools and Universities NEW, REVISED EDITION COPYRIGHT, igoi, BY HINDS 5c NOBLE HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE, Publishers 41-33-35 We9i 15TH Street, New York City ■ CONTENTS. Page Education in the South, George T. Winston, 1 The South before the War Henry W. Grady 3 The Old South and the New, " " " 6 Under the Southern Flag, John W.Daniel, 7 ATypicalHero " " " 9 Industrial Slavery, B. R. Tillman 10 " Lest we Forget," David Starr Jordan, 12 Energy, Alexander H. Stephens,.. 14 The Iron Will of Andrew Jackson, 15 Men and Memories of the. South T. J. Powell, 16 The Southern Negro, Henry W. Grady 18 The Blue and the Gray, Henry Cabot Lodge, 19 From Death to Life, Henry W. Grady 20 The New Union, Henry Watterson 22 A Plea for the Southern Negro C.C.Smith, 23 Individualism us. Centralization, Hon. W.G. Wooten, 24 A Court Scene in the South Adapted 26 The Negro Vote in the South Henry W. Grady 28 The Future of the Southern Negro - — Booker T. Washington,.. 30 Fraterualism vs. Sectionalism Hon. S. W. T. Lanham,. 31 A United Country, Senator George F. Hoar, 32 National Unity, Wm. L. Prather, 33 Expand at Home and not in the Philippines,..!). A. De. Armond, 35 The Independent Voter, Leo N. Levi, 36 Our Policy toward Porto Rico, S. W. T. Lanham, 38 Education and Character, Wm. L. Prather, 39 Reunited, William McKinley, 41 A Plea for Cuba John M. Thurston, 43 Little Oiffen, of Tennessee 45 Derelopment of Southern Resources, *. . . . Wm. H. Garland, 47 The same, continued, " " " 48 Influence of Lofty Thoughts and Noble Senti- ments • Albert Pike, ........... 60 Reproductive Immortality of Language, Rev. H. B. Bascom,.... 61 Franklin's Toast, 62 The March of Improvement, 62 The Miser, (Poetry,) Captain O. W. Cutter, . 63 Individual Influence, Rev. Dr. Drake, 66 Moral Independence, ••••••••••■••••••••••••••• 66 The First Gun of Freedom, Everett, 67 A Patriotic Hymn, • Knickerbocker Mag...... 69 Individual Character of Nations, J.C.Andrews 61 A New Continent Anon., 62 The Coral Grove, (Poetry,) Percival, 63 Life Heber,. 64 Beyond the River, (Poetry,) New Orleans Creole, ... 66 A Valedictory Address, Putnam, 66 Mercy, (Poetry,) Shakspeare 67 Collegiate Education, C. Roselius • 67 The Lost Ship, (Poetry,) Miss Mary Ann Lee, ... 69 Tell me, ye winged Winds, (Poetry,) Charles Mackay, 70 Effects of Ignorance among the Masses, ..C. Roselius, 71 A Plea for the Union, O.P.Baldwin, 72 My Lord Tomnoddy, (Humorous Poetry,).... London Diogenes, 74 Military Education in Civil Institutions, J >ro f- &• C« Forshey,... 7ft No Geographical Party, Rufus Choate 77 Shall our Laurels wither ? A. P. Harcourt,. ....... 78 The Song of Steam, American Organ 79 Independence Monument, , Kenneth Rayner, 81 Ths Same, continued, '• ■ M (t) CONTENTS. The Hour of DcathjJPoctTT,) Mrs. Hemam 241 The Destiny of the United States H. W. Hilliard, 246 The Famine in Ireland, S.S.Prentiss 247 New England and the Union " " 248 Republics, Hugh S. Legari 249 Eulogium on Franklin, Mirabeau, 260 The Union of Church and State, " 261 To the Revolutionary Veterans, Webster 262 Intelligence a National Safeguard Levi Woodbury, 264 The Permanence of American Liberty, McDuffie , 266 Eulogy on Washington, J. M. Mason 256 Eulogy on Hamilton Nott 257 Intellectual and Commercial Wants, J. C. Calhoun, 257 Patriotism of the West Clay 258 Hector's Attack on the Grecian Walls Pope's Homer, 259 Progress of the Age, Everett 261 Foreign Policy of Washington, Fox, 261 A Republic the Strongest Government, .Jefferson 263 Scene from Pizarro, (Dialogue,) Kotzebue, 264 TheSame. Second Scene " 266 American Aristocracy, (Humorous Poetry,) .J. G. Saxe, 268 Pedantry, (Humorous Dialogue,) Anon., 268 On Precedents in Government, Lewis Cass, 273 Tight Times, (Humorous,) Albany Register, 274 Intervention in the Wars of Europe, . . .Jeremiah Clemens, 275 The Contest unequal, (Humorous,) Sydney Smith, 277 Hazards of our National Prosperity, . . . W . R. Smith 278 Improvement, (Humorous,) Dow, Jr., 279 Despair, (Humorous,) " 280 Nature, (Humorous,) " 282 Gold, (Humorous Poetry,) Hood, 283 Attention the Soul of Genius . Dr. Dewey 283 On the Supposed Dangers to the Union, .... Madison, 284 The Disinterestedness of Washington, Robert Treat Paine 286 Vindication of South Carolina, McDuffie 287 Intemperance, Edgar A. Poe, 288 No Excellence without Labor, Wirt, 289 Belshazzar's Vision, (Poetry,) Byron, 290 Address to the Ocean, (Poetry,) " 291 The Sun-burnt Man, (Humorous,) Stahl, 292 Nothing in It, (Humorous Dialogue,) Charles Mathews, 293 The Chameleon, (Poetry,) Merrick, 296 Knickerbocker's New England Fanner, (Hu- morous,) W. Irving, 297 The Suspension of Diplomatic Relations with Austria, M. T. Hunter, 299 The Missionary Enterprise 301 The Missionary Spirit 302 Against Foreign Influence, Millard Fillmore, 303 Against Section al Agitation, Franklin Pierce, 304 Eloquence and Logic, William C. Preston, .... 305 For Independence, Richard Henry Lee, .... 306 The Raven, (Poetry,) Edgar A. Poe 308 State Interposition, J. C. Calhoun, 311 Address to the Texian Army, M. B. Lamar, 31 '1 Enthusiasm, William Pinckney, 31* Be faithful to your Country, Everett 316 Washington's Sword and Franklin's Starf, . ./. Q. Adams, 316 The Sword of General Jackson, Cass, 317 Union linked with Liberty, Andrew Jackson, 31S" 8cene from Catiline, (Dialogue,) Croly, .... 32(1 CONTENTS. We we Seven, (Poetry,) Wordsieorth, 828 Constitution of the United States, Alexander Hamilton, . • • 32*; Extent of Country no Bar to Union, . ..Edmund Randolph 326 Sublime Prospects, (Poetry,) Akenside, 327 France and the United States, Washington, 328 The Hermit, (Poetry,) Goldsmith, 329 Man alone makes War on bis own Species, . . Scott, • 330 Messiah, a Sacred Eclogue, (Poetry,) Pope, 331 The 8oldier's Tear, (Poetry,) T. H. Bailey, 332 The Veteran, (Poetry,) " " 333 Free Discussion, Webster, 333 American Institutions, . " 334 On Government Extrr^ Crittenden 335 The Tyrant Gesler a. ... .aam Tell, (Dia- logue,) Knowles 336 The Murderer's Secret Webster 338 TheSame. Part Second, " 339 War with France, Calhoun, 34C The Preservation of the Union, Cass, 341 The True Nature of our Government, . . D. Ullmann, 342 The Sentinels of Liberty Webster, 344 Political Corruption, McDuffie, 345 Instability of Human Governments, Rutledqe, 346 Religious Education, E. A. Nisbet, 347 Tribute to Chatham, Wirt, 348 Napoleon fallen, Phillips,.. 349 Napoleon at Rest, (Poetry,) Pierpont, 350 Consequences of our Independence, Mazcy, 351 Gentleman and Irish Servant, (Dialogue,) . .A non., 352 Frenchman and his English Tutor, (Dia- logue,) " 363 A Plea for the Ancient Languages, New Orleans Creole, . . • 355 Defalcation and Retrenchment, S. JS. Prentiss 356 The South during the "War of 1812, Hayne, 358 An Excuse, ( Humorous,) E.W.C. Normal School, 359 Eulogy on Candle Light, ( Humorous,) Charles Lamb, 360 The Patriot's Ambition, Clay, 362 The Consequences of Disunion, " , 363 Incidents of Travel, (Humorous,) Major Jones, 364 Romeo's Description of an Apothecary, (Poe- try,) Sftakspeare, 366 Account of a Bachelor, (A Parody on the preceding,) Anon., 366 The Union, Clay, 367 Taxation for War, Calhoun, 368 8tate Rights, " 368 Eulogy upon John C. Calhoun, Webster, 369 To the American Flag, (Poetry,) J. R. Drake, 371 Old Ironsides, (Poetry,) O. W. Holmes 372 Demosthenes on the Crown, (Exordium,) 873 Public Spirit of the Athenians, Demosthenes on the Crown, 374 Demosthenes not vanquished by Philip,. . . " " ' 375 Catiline denounced, Cicero, 376 Catiline expelled " 378 Verres denounced, " 378 8oliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle, Shaktpeare v 380 Cheerfulness, (Poetry,) '• 3H1 The Btwnoe Hoy, ( Humorous,) Anon., 3t!l 8cene from Snakspeare, ( Humorous Dia- logue, ) 483 Nec*«aity of Kducation in a Republic, .O. N (tgden W6 CONTENTS. The Same, concluded 0. N. Ogden, •••«• 387 Ode to the South, Louise Page 38& The Beer Trial, (Humorous,) Temperance Dialogue*,. 389 The Spirit of Human Liberty, Webster 391 My Aunt, (Humorous Poetry,) O. W. Holmes 391 Our Country's Origin Webster 393 The Progress of Liberty, " 394 The Character of "Washington, " 39S The Responsibility of Americans, " 396 The Deep, (Poetry.) Brainard, 397 Patriotic Triumph, Maxcy, 398 The Infant Orator, (Poetry,) Anon., 398 Parody on the Foregoing, (Humorous,) Anon., 399 The Intemperate Husband, Sprague, 400 The Drunkard's Daughter, (Poetry,) G. W.Bungay 401 Baneful Effects of Party Spirit Rev. Dr. Ftsk, 401 The Destiny of America, Story, 403 The Responsibilities of America, " 404 Adams and Jefferson '.. Everett, 405 The Same, concluded, " 406 A Mother's Gift — the Bible, (Poetry,) W. Ferguson, 407 The Destiny of America G. S. Hillard, 408 The Development of our Country, Dr. Henry 409 The Poet in the Clouds, (Poetry,) Coleridge, 410 W ashington a Man of Genius, Whipple, 410 The Death of Washington, R. T. Paine, 411 The Light of Science, Ezra D. Barker, 412 The Good Time coming, J. B. Gough, 413 The Warfare of Truth C. W. Upham 414 The Party Man, , Anon., 414 The Philosopher's Scales, (Poetry,) Jane Taylor 4 16 Observance of the Sabbath Dr. Spring 417 Cardinal Wolsey's Address to Cromwell, (Poetry,) Shakspeare, 41f Soliloquy of Henry IV., (Poetry,) " 42J Sabbath Morning, New York Paper 420 A Specimen of Pulpit Eloquence, Bridaine 422 Charles XII. of Sweden, (Poetry,) Dr. Johnson, 423 The Warnings of History Anon. 424 America the Land of Promise, Everett, 426 Love of Country, Charles Gayarre, 425 The South, Jefferson Davis 427 Similitudes, (Poetry,) James, 428 Character of Blannerhassett, Wirt, 429 Agriculture, D. S. Dickinson, 431 An Appeal for Union J. M. Berrien, 432 Loyalty to the Constitution, S. A. Douglas, 433 The Village Schoolmaster, (Poetry,) Goldsmith, 434 Prospect of planting the Arts and Learning in America, (Poetry,) Berkeley, 436 Address to his Soldiers, Francis Marion, 436 Song of Marion's Men, (Poetry,) Bryant, 437 The Fate of the Indians, Story, 438 The Example of our Forefathers, Sparks 439 The Study of Oratory in Greece and Rome, . . Wirt, 439 False Courage Channing, 440 True Courage, " 441 Necessity of a State Law against Dueling, . . . Anon., 442 On altering the Virginia Constitution, .John Randolph, 443 Lodgings foi Single Gentlemen, ( Humorous Poetry.).... , Colman * «44 0ONTKNT8. The Rich Man and the Poor Man, (Poetry, )Khemnilter, .. 441 Paddy's Metamorphosis, (Humorousroetry,)Afoor«, •• 446 Othello's Apology, (Poetry,) Shakspeare, 447 The Toilet, (Humorous Poetry,) Pope 449 Competence, (Poetry,) Swift, 449 Lord Ullin's Daughter, (Poetry,) Campbell, 460 Ritrospect, (Poetry,) Cowper, 462 Poetry of the Bible, Dr. Spring, 463 The Same, concluded, " " 464 Song of Moses after the Passage of the Red Sea, 16th Chap, of Exodus,.. 456 The Closing Year, (Poetry,) G. D. Prentice, 467 The Last Man, (Poetry,) Campbell, 459 Columbia, remember thy Heroes, (Poetry,).. James G. Clark, 461 Washington in Retirement, Sparks, 462 The Grave of Washington, (Poetry,) Albert Pike, 463 Daniel Webster, (Poetry,) O. W. Holmes 464 Thought without Utterance, (Poetry,) .Tupper, 466 The Power of Eloquence, (Poetry,) " 466 Trifles, (Poetry,) " 466 The Good Manj (Poetry,) " 467 What the Public School House says, Ohapin, 468 The Three Black Crows, (Poetry,) Byrom, 469 Turn the Carpet, (Poetry,) Hannah More, 470 The Natural World inferior to the Moral World, Grimke, 471 Slander, (Poetry,) Mrs. Osgood, 473 Self-made Men, 474 The Inchcape Rock, Southey, 476 Moral Courage, 477 The Dear-bought Victory, Anon., 477 Time, " 479 What is Time, (Poetry,) Marsden, 479 The Prayerless One, (Poetry,) Anon., 480 Wealth, E. A. Nisbet, 482 Military Glory " " 483 Memory, (Poetry,) W.M.Praed 484 Briers and Bemes, (Poetry,) Brown, 485 The Fall of Jerusalem, Croly, 487 May, (Poetry,) 488 The Majesty of Intellect, Rev. G. S. Weaver 490 Character the 8oul'8 Habiliment, " " " ....490 The81eeperon Galilee, (Poetry,) Miss Harriet J. Meek,.. 491 The Winged Worshippers, (Poetry,) C. Sprague, 492 The Four Master Spirits of the Human Race.-dnon., 493 The Better Land, (Poetry,) Mrs. Hemans 494 The Wilkinson Trial 8. S. Prentiss, 49fi The Dying Alchemist, (Poetry,) Willis, 496 Loss of the 8teamship President, Rev. J. N. Majlt 499 The 8ame, concluded,. * - * 600 A 8ummer Sunset, (Poetry.) Rev. A. E. Goodwyn,.,. 601 The Pitiable Condition of Ignorance W. W. Hageman, 502 Death and the Drunkard, (Poetry.) Anon. 603 Varion* Kxtr.au. 606-610 ROSS'S SOUTHERN SPEAKER. Education in the SoutJl.—QsoRQK T. Winston. Great is the commonwealth whose foundations are liberty and learning, where every child is blessed with instruction and every man is clothed with citizenship; where popular sovereignty rests securely on the firm basis of popular education. A common- wealth thus planted in the bleak coast of Massachusetts grew rich and strong in educated labor and labor-saving machinery. To the southward another colony was planted. Its basis was not universal education. Its leaders were heroes and giants in intellect and character. They planted a commonwealth un- equalled in modern times for the patriotism, learning and virtue of its public men ; for the beauty, purity and grace of its women ; for the matchless eloquence of its orators; for the for- titude and gallantry of its soldiers, and for unconquerable de- votion to personal liberty and constitutional government. It was an agricultural colony, of strong and simple life, without cities, without factories, with little commerce. Its character was patriarchal and its power proceeded not from the mass of the people, but from their mighty leaders. It did not compre- hend the power of universal education. Between this colony and the one north began a Btrnggle for the possession of the continent. That Btrnggle, though colored by sectional preju- dice, and apparently political, was, in its essence, industrial. It was a Btrnggle of the free, educated labor of the North against the uneducated slave labor of the South. But the Btrnggle was aneqnal; the educated free labor of New England, mounted upon the steam-engine, travelled faster and wroughl greater la- bors than the Southern planter carrying upon his back tho 4 ROSS'S SPEAKER. The Northern man, dealing with casual servants, querulous, sensitive, and lodged for a day in a sphere they resent, can hardly comprehend the friendliness and sympathy that existed hetween the master and the slave. He cannot understand how the negro stood in slavery days, open-hearted and sympathetic, full of gossip and comradeship, the companion of the hunt, frolic, furrow and home, contented in the kindly dependence that had been a habit of his blood, and never lifting his eyes beyond the narrow horizon that shut him in with his neighbors and friends. But this relation did exist in the days of slavery. It was the rule of that regime. It has survived war and strife, and polit- ical campaigns in which the drum-beat inspired and Federal bayonets fortified. It will never die until the last slaveholder and slave have been gathered to rest. It is the glory of our past in the South. It is the answer to abuse and slander. It is the hope of our future. TJie Neiu South.— henry w. Grady. The picture of your returning armies of the North has been drawn for you by a master hand. You have been told how in the pomp and circumstance of war they came back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes. Will you bear with me while I tell you of another army that sought its home at the close of the late war — an army that marched home in defeat and not in vic- tory, in pathos and not in splendor, but in glory that equalled yours, and to hearts as loving as ever welcomed heroes home ? Let me picture to you the footsore Confederate soldier as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parol which was to bear testimony to his children of his fidelity and his faith, he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of him as ragged, half starved, heavy hearted, enfeebled by want and wounds, having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hand of his comrades in silence, and lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot old Virginia's hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow, and begins his slow and painful journey. What does he find — let me ask you — what does he find, when, having followed the battle-stained cross against over- whelming odds, dreading death not half so much as surrender, THE NEW SOUTH. he reaches the home lie left so prosperous and beautiful. He finds liis house in ruins, his farm devastated, his slaves free, his stock killed, his barns empty, his trade destroyed, his money worthless; his social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away ; his people without law or legal status, his comrades slain, and the burdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions are gone. Without money, credit, em- ployment, material or training; and, besides all this, confronted with the gravest problem that ever met human intelligence — the establishment of a status for the vast body of his liberated slaves. What does he do, this hero in gray with a heart of gold? Does he sit down in sulleness and despair? Not for a day. Surely God, who had stripped hiw ot his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin was never before so overwhelm, ing, never was restoration swifter. The soldiers stepped from the trenches into the furrow ; horses that had charged Federal guns marched before the plough, and fields that ran red with human blood in April were green with the harvest in June. But what is the sum of our work ? We have found out thai the free negro counts more than he did as a slave. W T e have planted the schoolhouse on the hilltop, and made it free to white and black. We have sowed towns and cities in the place of theories, and put business above politics. The New South is enamored of her new work. Her soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrilling with a con. sciousness of growing power and prosperity. As she stands upright, full Btatured and equal, among the peoples of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking out upon the expanding horizon, she understands that her emancipation came because, through the inscrutable wisdom of God, her honest purpose was crossed and her brave armies were beaten. Now what answer has New England to this message? Will she withhold, save in strained courtesy, the hand which straight from his soldier's heart Grant offered to Lee at Appomattox ? If she does, the Smith, never abject in asking for comradeship, must accept with dignity its refusal ; but if she does not refuse to accept in frankness and sincerity this message of good-will and friendship, then will the prophecy of Webster, delivered in this very Bociety forty years ago, be verified in its fullest extent, when he -aid : " Standing hand to hand and clasping hands, we should remain united as we have been for sixty years: citizens of 6 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the same country, members of the same government, united, all united now, and united forever." The Old South and the New— henry w. Grady. It was Ben Hill, the music of whose voice is now attuned to the symphonies of the skies, who said, " There was a South of secession and slavery ; that South is dead ; there is a South of union and freedom ; that South, thank God, is living, grow- ing every hour." In answering the toast to the New South to-night, I accept that name in no disparagement to the Old South. Dear to me, sir, is the home of my childhood and the traditions of my people, and not for the glories of New England's history, from Plymouth Rock, all the way, would I surrender the least of these. Never shall I do, or say, aught to dim the lustre of the glory of my ancestors, won in peace and in war. Where is the young man in the South who has spoken one word in disparage- ment of our past, or has worn lightly the sacred traditions of his fathers? The world has not equalled the unquestioning reverence and the undying loyalty of the young men of the South, to the memory of our fathers. I have stood with them shoulder to shoulder, as they met new conditions without sur- rendering old faiths, and I have been content to feel the grasp of their hands and the throb of their hearts, as they marched unfearing into new and untried ways. If I should attempt to prostitute the generous enthusiasm of these, my comrades, to my own ambition, I should be unworthy. If any man, enwrapping himself in the sacred memories of the Old South, should prostitute them to the hiding of his weakness or the strengthening of his failing fortunes, that man would be unworthy. If any man, for his own advantage, should seek to divide the Old South from the New, or the New from the Old — to separate these that in love have been joined together — to estrange the son from his father's grave and turn our children from the memories of our dead — to embitter the closing days of our veterans with the suspicion of the sons that shall follow them, that man's words are unworthy and spoken to the injury of his people. Some one has said, in derision, that the old men of the South, sitting down amid their ruins, reminded him of " the Spanish UNDER THE SOUTHERN FLAG. 7 hidalgoes sitting in the porches of the Alhambra and looking out to sea for the return of the lost Armada." There is pathos but no derision in this picture to me. These men were our fathers. Their lives were stainless. Their hands were daintily cast, and the civilization they builded in tender and engaging grace hath not been equalled. The scenes amid which they moved, as princes among men, have vanished forever. A grosser and more material day has come, in which their gentle hands can garner but scantily, and their guileless hearts fend but feebly. Let me sit, therefore, in the dismantled porches of their homes, into which dishonor hath never entered — to which discourtesy is a stranger, and gaze out to sea, beyond the horizon of which their Armada has drifted forever. And though the sea shall not render back for them the Argosies which went down in their ships, let us build for them, in the land they love so well, a stately and enduring temple, its pillars founded in justice, its arches springing to the skies, its treasuries filled with substance, liberty walking in its corridors and religion filling its aisles with incense ; and here let them rest in honorable peace and tranquil- ity until God shall call them hence, to " a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." Under the Southern Flag.— John w. Daniel. There was no happier or lovelier home than that of Col. Robert E. Lee in the spring of 1861, when for the first time its thresh- old was darkened with the omens of Civil War. Crowning the green slopes of the Virginia hills that overlook the Potomac, and embowered in stately trees, stood the venerable mansion of Arlington, facing a prospect of varied and imposing beauty. So -ituated was Colonel Lee in the spring of 1861, upon the verge of the momentous revolution of which he became so mighty a pillar and so glorious a chieftain. How can we esti- mate the sacrifice lie made to take up anus against the Union? Lee was emphatically a Union man; and Virginia, to the crisis of dissolution, was a Union state, lie loved the Union with a soldier's ardent loyalty to the government he served, ami with a patriot's faith and hope in the institutions of his country. In January, L861, Colonel Lee, then with his regiment in Texas, wrote to his son : — "As an Americah citizen, I take great pri coin's proclamation for 75,000 men. This proclamation deter- mined Virginia's course, and an ordinance of secession was passed. War had come. " Under which flag ? " was the sternly pathetic question that Lee must now answer. On the one hand Virginia, now in the fore-front of a scarcely organized revolution, summoned him to share her lot in the perilous adventure. The young Confederacy is without an army ; there is no navy, no currency. There is little but a meagre and widely scattered population, for the most part men of the field, the prairie, the forest and the moun- tain, ready to stand the hazard of an audacious endeavor. Did he fail, his beloved state would be trampled in the mire of the ways ; his people would be captives, their very slaves their mas- ters ; and he — if of himself he thought at all — he, mayhap, may have seen in the dim perspective the shadow of the dungeon or the scaffold. On the other hand stands the foremost and most powerful Republic of the earth. Its regular army and its myriad volun- teers rush to do its bidding. Its capital lies in sight of his chamber window, and its guns bear on the portals of his home. A messenger comes from its President and from General Scott, Commander-in-Chief of its army, to tender him supreme com- mand of its forces. No man could have undergone a more try- ing ordeal or met it with a higher spirit of heroic self-sacrifice, since the Son of Man stood upon the Mount, saw " all the king- doms of earth and the glory thereof," and turned away from them to the agony of Gethsemane. To the statesman, Mr. Francis P. Blair, who brought him the tender of supreme command, Lee answered, " Mr. Blair, I look upon secession as anarchy. If I owned the four million slaves in the South, I would sacrifice them all to the Union. But how can I draw my sword against Virginia?" Draw his sword against Virginia? Perish the thought! Over all the voices that called he heard the still small voice that ever whispers to the soul of the spot that gave it birth; and over every ambitious dream there rose the face of the angel that guards the door of home. A TYPICAL HERO. 9 I pause not here to defend the course of General Lee. In the supreme moments of national life, as in the lives of individuals, the actor must resolve and act within himself alone. The South- ern states acted for themselves — the Northern states for them- selves — Virginia for herself. And when the lines of hattle formed, Lee took his place in the line beside his people, his kindred, his children, his home. Let his defence rest on this fact alone. Nature speaks it. Nothing can strengthen it. Noth- ing can weaken it. The historian may compile ; the casuist may- dissect ; the statesman may expatiate ; the advocate may plead ; the jurist may expound; but, after all, there can be no stronger and tenderer tie than that which binds the faithful heart to kindred and to home. And on that tie — stretching from the cradle to the grave, spanning the heavens, and riveted through eternity to the throne of God on high, and underneath in the souls of good men and true — on that tie x'ests, stainless and im- mortal, the fame of Robert E. Lee. A Typical Hero.— John W. Daniel. At the bottom of true heroism is unselfishness. Its crowning expression is sacrifice. The world is suspicious of vaunted heroes; but when the true hero has come, how the hearts of men leap forth to greet him — how worshipfully we welcome God's noblest work — the strong, honest, fearless, upright man! In Robert E. Lee was such a hero vouchsafed to us and to mankind, and whether we behold him declining command of the Federal army t<> fight the battles and to share the miseries of his own people; proclaiming on the heights in front of Gettys- burg that the fault of the disaster was his own ; leading charges in the crisis of combat; walking under the yoke of conquest without a murmur of complaint; or refusing fortunes to go to Washington and Lee University to train the youth of his coun- try in the path of duty — he is ever the same meek, grand, self- sacrificing spirit. As President of Washington College he exhibited qualities not less worthy and heroic than those dis- played on the broad and open theatre of conflict, when the eyes of nations watched his every action. In the calm repose of civic and domestic duties and in the trying routine of incessant task-, he lived a life as high as when, day by day, he marshalled his thin and wasting lines. In the quiet walks of academic life, 10 ROSS'S SPEAKER. far removed from " war or battle's sound," came into view the towering grandeur, the massive splendor and the loving kindness of the character of General Lee, and the very sorrows that over- hung his life seemed luminous with celestial hues. There he revealed in manifold gracious hospitalities, tender charities, and patient, worthy counsels how deep and pure and inexhaustible were the fountains of his virtues. And loving hearts delight to recall, as loving lips will ever delight to tell, the thousand little things he did which sent forth lines of light to irradiate the gloom of the conquered land and to lift up the hopes and cheer the works of his people. Come we then to-day in loyal love to sanctify our memories, to purify our hopes, to make strong all good intent by com- munion with the spirit of him who, being dead, yet speaketh. Let us crown his tomb with the oak, the emblem of his strength, and with the laurel, the emblem of his glory. And as we seem to gaze once more on him we loved and hailed as chief, the tranquil face is clothed with heaven's light and the mute lips seem eloquent with the message that in life he spoke : " There is a true glory and a true honor ; the glory of duty done, the honor of the integrity of principle." Industrial Slavery.— B. E. Tillman, of South Carolina. The money changers are in the temple of our liberties and have bought the sentinels on guard. It may be too late. God grant it be not so ; but this great Republic can only be saved from the miseries of revolution and internecine strife in the near future by its citizens casting aside blind allegiance to party and marshalling themselves under the banner of Jefferson's Democ- racy and Lincoln's Republicanism, determined to restore the Re- public to the form in which it was left to us by the fathers, and since consecrated by the blood of brothers, shed in Civil War, engendered and brought about by just such statesmanship as we have here. The encroachments of the Federal judiciary, and the supineness and venality — corruption, I may say — of the representative branches of the Government are causes of deep concern to all thinking and patriotic men. We are fast drifting into government by injunction in the interest of monopolies and corporations, and the Supreme Court, by one corrupt vote, an- nuls an act of Congress looking to the taxation of the rich. INDUSTRIAL SLAVERY. 11 A day of reckoning will come, unless there is no longer a just God in heaven ; and when it does come, woe be unto those who have been among the oppressors of the people. The present struggle is unfortunately too like that which preceded the late Civil War, inasmuch as it is sectional. The creditor and the man- ufacturing states of the North and East, those which have grown inordinately wealthy at the expense of the producing classes of the South and West, are. urging this policy with the besotted blindness of Belshazzar. The old slaveholders of the South were not more arrogant or more determined. " The sordid despotism of wealth," to use the apt phrase of Justice Brown, is already felt throughout the land. The Representatives in Congress from those states, without regard to party affiliations, are solidly arrayed under the banner of monopoly and the gold standard. Greed and self-interest seem alone to actuate them. Self-pres- ervation and patriotism should bind the South and W est in equally strong bonds of union. We cannot afford to longer put party above country. You have already been told in glowing language by the elo- quent Senator from Missouri that the conflict is " irrepressible," and it is easy to see from the temper and feeling of the equally distinguished. Senator from Colorado and other western Sena- tors that the struggle for the new emancipation has begun. And the new Mason and Dixon's line which is drawn, not by the sur- veyor, but by the denial of the natural and inalienable " right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" to a large majority of citizens, will sooner or later bring together in the bonds of union the toiling and now down-trodden masses of the cities and the equally desperate masses of the country ; agrarianism and com- munism will join hands. There are millions now on the march, and they tramp, tramp, tramp; tramp the sidewalks hunting work and tramp the highways begging bread. Unless relief comes they will some day take a notion to tramp to Washing- ton, with rifles in their hands, to regain their liberties which have been stolen from them or which their representatives have sold; and the hitherto conservative force of the Republic, the well-to-do agricultural class, will lift no hand to stay the march, but join it. God grant that our country may b«' spared the enact- ment of such scenes as were witnessed in Paris in lTs'.t. But the fair flower of liberty planted by Jefferson in the immortal Declaration of the ith of July, 1 776, watered by the blood of our Revolutionary sires under Washington, cannot be uprooted or smothered by the noxious weedsof monopoly and class privilege 12 ROSS'S SPEAKER. without bloodshed ; and a cataclysm, which will give us a mili- tary despotism, or leave the Republic redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, is just as sure to come as yonder sun shines in the heavens, unless we do our duty here and take the hands of these conspirators off the people's throats and give them an opportunity to breathe, to work, to live. " Lest We .Fon^."— David Starr Jordan. Patriotism is the will to serve one's country, to make one's country better worth serving. It is a course of action rather than a sentiment. The shrilling of the mob is not patriotism. It is not patriotism to trample on the Spanish flag, to burn fire- crackers, or to twist the Lion's tail. The " glory " of war turns our attention from civic affairs. Neglect invites corruption. Noble and necessary as was our Civil War, we have not yet recov- ered from its degrading influences. The war with Spain has united at last the North and South, we say. So, at least, it ap- pears. When Fitzhugh Lee is called a Yankee, and all the haughty Lees seem proud of the designation, we may be sure that the old lines of division exist no longer. But our present solidarity shows that the nation was sound already, else a month could not have welded it together. It is twenty-eight years ago to-day that a rebel soldier, who says, " I am a Southerner, I loved the South and dared for her To fight from Lookout to the sea With her proud banner over me." stood before the ranks of the Grand Army and spoke these words : " I stand and say that you were right; I greet you with uncovered head, Remembering many a thunderous fight When whistling death between us sped ; I clasp the hand that made my scars, I cheer the flag my foemen bore, I shout for joy to see the stars All on our common shield once more." This was more than a quarter of a century ago, and all this time the great loyal South has patiently and unflinchingly ac- "LEST WE FORGET." 13 cepted war's terrible results. It is not strange, then, that she shows her loyalty to-day. The " Solid South," the bugaboo of politicians, the cloak of Northern venality, has passed away for- ever. The warm response to American courage, in whatever section or party, shows that, with all our surface divisions, we of America are one in heart. And this very solidarity should make us pause before entering upon a career of militarism. Un- forgetting, open-eyed, counting all the cost, let us make our decision. The Federal republic, the imperial republic — which shall it be 1 The policing of far-off islands, the maintenance of the ma- chinery of imperialism, are petty things beside the duties which the higher freedom brings. To turn to these empty and showy affairs is to neglect our own business for the gossip of our neigh- bors. Such work may be a matter of necessity ; it should not be a source of pride. The political greatness of England has never lain iu her navies nor the force of her arms. It has lain in her struggles for individual freedom. Not Marlborough, nor Nelson, nor Wellington, is its exponent; let us say rather Pym and Hampden, and Gladstone and Bright. The real problems of England have always been at home. The pomp of impe- rialism, the display of naval power, the commercial control of India and China — all these are as the bread and circuses by which the Roman emperors held the mobs from their thrones. They keep the people busy, and put off the day of final reckon- ing. "Gild the dome of the Invalides" was Napoleon's cyn- ical command when he learned that the people of Paris were becoming desperate. A foe is always at the gates of a nation with a vigorous foreign policy. The British nation is hated and feared of all nations except our own. Only her eternal vigilance keeps the vultures from her coasts. Eternal vigilance of this sort will strengthen governments, will build up nations; it will not in lik*' degree make men. The day of the nations as nations is passing. National ambitions, national hopes, national ag- grandizements — all these may become public nuisances. Im- perialism, like feudalism, belongs to the past. The men of the world ;t- men, doI as nations, are drawing closer together. The Deeds of commerce are Stronger than the will of nations, and the final guarantee of peace and <_f. >c >< 1-will among men will be not " the parliament of nations," l.iit the self-control df men. Borne great changes in our system are inevitable, and belong to the course, of natural progress. Against them I have nothing 14 ROSS'S SPEAKER. to say. Whatever our part in the affairs of the world, we should play it manfully. But with all this I believe that the movement toward broad dominion would be a step downward. It would be to turn from our highest purposes to drift with the current of " manifest destiny." It would be not to do the work of America, but to follow the ways of the rest of the world. "God of our fathers, known of old — Lord of our far-flung battle line — Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine; Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget. The tumult and the shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart — Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget. Far-called our navies melt away — On dune and headland sinks the fire — Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nincvah and Tyre ! Judge of the nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget." Energy.— Alexander H. Stephens. By energy I mean application, attention, activity, persever- ance, and untiring industry in that business or pursuit, whatever it may be, which is undertaken. Nothing great or good can ever be accomplished without labor and toil. Motion is the law of living nature. Inaction is the symbol of death, if it is not death itself. The hugest engines, with strength and capacity sufficient to drive the mightiest ships across the stormy deep, are utterly useless without a moving power. Energy is the steam-power, the motive-principle of intellectual capacity. A small body driven by a great force will produce a result equal to, or even greater than, that of a much larger body moved by a considerably less force. So it is with our minds. Hence it is that we often see men of comparatively small capac- THE IRON WILL OF ANDREW JACKSON. 15 ity, by greater energy alone, leave — and justly leave — their superiors in natural gifts far behind them in the race for hon- ors, distinction, and preferment. It is this principle in human nature which imparts that quality which we designate by the very expressive term, " force of char- acter," which meets, defies, and bears down all opposition. This is, perhaps, the most striking characteristic of those great minds and intellects which never fail to impress their names, ideas, and opinions indelibly upon the history of the times in which they live. Men of this class are those pioneers of thought who sometimes, even " in advance of the age," are known and marked in history as originators and discoverers, or those who overturn old orders and systems of things and build up new ones. To this class be- long Columbus, Watt, Fulton, Franklin, and Washington. It was to this same class that General Jackson belonged ; for he not only had a very clear conception of his purpose, but a will and energy to execute it. And it is in the same class, or among the first order of men, that Henry Clay will be assigned a place. His aims and objects were high, and worthy of the greatest efforts ; they were not to secure the laurels won on the battle- field, but those wreaths which adorn the brow of the wise, the firm, the sagacious, and far-seeking statesman. In his life and character a most striking example is presented of what energy and indomitable perseverance can do even when opposed by most adverse circumstances. The Iron Will of Andretv Jackson. Both friends and foes have I >csto wed on Andrew Jackson the characteristic of being a man of iron will. When this is meant to imply hardness of heart, nothing could be further from the truth, hut when it means that his sense of duty was strong, and stronger even than his feelings, the term may not have been misapplied. His iri. n will was mere firmness or inflexibility in the cause be deemed ri^ht. It was an indomitable resolution to carry out what conscience dictated, Judgment and the fruits of it, opin- ion and corresponding conduct, it seemed to him, ought to be inseparable. He knew of no compromise or half-way measures with what was WTOng. This high moral tone, though often imputed to him as a fault, 16 ROSS'S SPEAKER. was in fact the crowning glory of Lis character, whether as a man, a warrior, or a politician. So far as its having proved in- consistent with seeking full advice, and weighing contradictory reasons, and adopting measures of conciliation, where justifiable and wise, it was generally preceded by the amplest inquiries and careful deliberation. But a conclusion having been once formed, his mind and heart were flung into its execution with almost resistless energy, and then in fortitude to resist opposition, and in courage to brave all difficulties, and inflexible perseverance to carry out measures deemed right, he may well have been called a man of iron, a man of destiny, or the hero of the iron will. Men and Memories of the South.- t. j. Powell. The most momentous century of time is nearly ended and our faces arc turned toward the east awaiting the sunrise of a new one. Your life's work is nearly done, and the superb citizenship of our fair South, which spring from your loins, will take up the prob- lems of life and government, ennobled and strengthened by the loyalty, courage and devotion of its ancestry. When the last leaf is turned and the volume is carefully and tenderly placed in position, that portion devoted to our Civil War will hold a record to which your children's children will turn and stand in amazement before the sublimity of your struggle and the un- dimmed lustre of your fame. There they will find the seed of the Puritan and the seed of the Cavalier, struggling for suprem- acy — the conviction of the one battling against the institutions of the other. They will follow the two streams of our national life meandering from Plymouth Rock and Georgetown into that irrepressible, unavoidable clash that merged them into a common channel amidst the awful horrors and carnage of war. They will find the institutions of the Cavalier, not lost, but remodeled by the convictions of the Puritan, and the convictions of the Puri- tan not altered but strengthened and broadened by the quickened and multiplied stream of American manhood — sublime in its amalgamated virtue and power. On July 21, 1861, the first real conflict of the war was fought on the battlefield of Bull Run. How easily you can recall the scene. The morning sun found the Federal forces on the hill at Centreville. The flower of the Southern army was at Stone House, on the other side of Pull Pun. Thousands of gay equi- :me:s and memories of the south. 17 pages trailed in the rear of the Union army — camp followers who were there to witness the end of the war, but when night came they were scattered to the winds in a mad and riotous rush back to the national capital, while victory crowned the Confederate arms. As a boy I have hunted over the historic fields and oft- times listeued in wondering awe to the recital of that battle by those who witnessed it. There it was that Jackson earned the name of " Stonewall," a name that gleams in the night of our history like a star of the first magnitude o'er a mountain peak. All the hot, fierce fire of the noonday sun and all the mildness of the midnight moon were mingled in the character of " Stone- wall " Jackson. He was a mosaic, combining the convictions of the Puritan, predominated by the blood of a Cavalier. How proudly' we recall him in his marvelous fights — a flashing sword — sweeping irresistibly the enemy from his pathway. How tenderly we remember him, wrestling in prayer, a very god of war. Even now our eyes grow dim at the recollection of that dark night near Chancellorsville when he fell at the hands of his own men, and " crossed over the river to rest under the shade of the trees." Another face looks at me from memory as I speak. I re- member upon a June day in 1876 climbing a Virginia mountain with a fair-haired daughter of a Confederate veteran by my side. We stopped to beg a drink of water from a cabin near it- summit. And there upon a rude mantel was a face framed in mountain flowers. For a moment we stood almost breath- less, for in that rugged feature lav the volume of the fallen Confederacy. Sinee then 1 have seen that same face in gilded frame upon the frescoed walls of the rich — gazed upon its grand outline in marble and bronze in many public places in the South, where in heroic size it Btands a sad sentinel over the bivouac of the ( Confederacy, hut never has it so filled my bosom with rev- erence and love as when in that mountain cabin 1 looked into the face of Robert E. Lee. He was the embodiment of all the genius, virtue and courage of the Cavalier. A purer man never lived. II' 1 \va> the inspiration, the hope and the shield of the Confederacy. His military genius grows brighter and brighter as the years increase, and will continue so until the history pro- claims him the central figure of the year. He is the greatest memory of the South. To enumerate further would be folly, for the roll of honor embraces all who bared their breasts in the struggle or guided its fortunes in the council chamber. And now as I again bid 18 ROSS'S SPEAKER. you welcome, a vision of your old homes comes to me, and the rippling words of an old song bubbles to my lips : "Turn backward, turn backward, oh, time in your flight, Make me a boy again just for to-night." Fair, beautiful Southland ! You are the idol of our wakeful moments, the soul of reverie and the genius of our dreams. We, thy children, celebrate thy valor and thy history. Around tby mountain peaks lay the dreams of our youth, and lost in thy valleys are the voices of our childhood. We touch upon the harp of your history, and lo ! the soul is moved with the music of thy fame. In thy bosom sleep loved and lost com- rades, covered with a wilderness of bloom and perfume. Fair, fair Southland ! Beautiful in thy suffering ; radiant in thy re- newed greatness ; may God's richest blessing rest with thea and thy children forever. ♦ The Southern Negro.— henry w. Grady. Far to the south lies the fairest and richest domain of this earth. But why is it, though the sectional line be now but a mist that the breath may dispel, fewer men of the North have crossed it over to the South than when it was crimson with the best blood of the Republic, or even when the slaveholder stood guard every inch of its way ? There can be but one answer. I thank God as heartily as you do that human slavery is gone forever from the American soil. But the freedman remains. With him a problem without precedent or parallel. Note its appalling conditions. Two utterly dissimilar races on the same soil — with equal civil and political rights — almost equal in num- bers, but terribly unequal in intelligence and responsibility — each pledged against fusion — one for a century in servitude to the other, and freed at last by a desolating war — these are the conditions. Meanwhile we treat the negro fairly, measuring to him jus- tice in the fulness the strong should give to the weak, and leading him in the steadfast ways of citizenship that he may no longer be the prey of the unscrupulous and the sport of the thoughtless. The love we feel for that race you cannot measure nor comprehend. As I attest it here, the spirit of my old black mammy from her home up there looks down to bless, and through the tumult of this night steals the sweet music of her crooning, as thirty years ago she held me in her black arms and led me smiling into sleep. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 19 I catch another vision. The crisis of battle — a soldier struck, stao-o-erinc, fallen; I see a slave scuffling through the smoke, winding his black arms about the fallen form, reckless of the hurtling death, bending his trusty face to catch the words that tremble on the stricken lips, so wrestling meantime with agony that he would lay down his life in his master's stead. I see him by the weary bedside, ministering with uncomplaining patience, praying with all his humble heart that God will lift his master up, until death comes in mercy and in honor to still the soldier's agony and seal the soldier's life. I see him by the open grave, mute, motionless, uncovered, suffering for the death of him who in life fought against his freedom. I see him when the mound is heaped, and the great drama of his life is closed, turn away, and with downcast eyes and uncer- tain step start out into new and strange fields, falternig, strug- gling, but moving on, until his shambling figure is lost in the light of this better and brighter day. And from the grave comes a voice, saying : " Follow him ! Put your arms about him in his need, even as he once put his about me. Be his friend as be was mine." And out into the new world — strange to me as to him, dazzling, bewildering both — I follow. And may God forget my people — when they forget these ! Tlie Blue and the Gray. -henry Cabot lodge. I was a boy ten years old when the troops marched away to defend Washington. I saw the troops, month after month, pour through the streets of Boston. I saw Shaw go forth at the bead of bis black regiment, and Bartlett, shattered in body but dauntless in soul, ride by, to carry what was left of him once more to the battlefields of the Republic. To my boyish mind one thing alone was clear, that the soldiers, as they marched past, were all, in that supreme hour, heroes and pa- triots. And \"u, brave men who wore the gray, would be the first to hold me or any other son of the North in just contempt if I should say that now it was all over I thought the North was wrong and the result of the war a mistake. To the men who fought the battles "f the Confederacy we hold out our hands freely, frankly and gladly. We have no bitter memories to revive, no reproaches to utter. Differ in polities and in a thou- sand Other ways we must and shall in all good nature, but never 20 ROSS'S SPEAKER. let us differ with each other on sectional or state lines, by race or creed. We welcome you, soldiers of Virginia, as others more elo- quent than I have said, to New England. We welcome you to old Massachusetts. We welcome you to Boston and Faneuil Hall. In your presence here, and at the sound of your voices beneath this historic roof, the years roll back, and we see the figure and hear again the ringing tones of your great orator, Patrick Ilenry, declaring to the first Continental Congress : " The distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers and New Englanders are no more. I am not a Vir- ginian, but an American." A distinguished Frenchman, as he stood among the graves at Arlington, said : " Only a great people is capable of a great civil war." Let us add with thankful hearts that only a great people is capable of a great reconciliation. Side by side, Vir- ginia and Massachusetts led the Colonies into the War for Inde- pendence. Side by side, they founded the government of the United States. Morgan and Greene, Lee and Knox, Moultrie and Prescott, men of the South and men of the North, fought shoulder to shoulder, and wore the same uniform of buff and blue — the uniform of Washington. Mere sentiment all this, some may say. But it is sentiment, true sentiment, that has moved the world. Sentiment fought the war, and sentiment has reunited us. So I say that the sen- timent manifested by your presence here, brethren of Virginia, sitting side by side with those who wore the blue, tells that if war should break again upon the country the sons of Virginia and Massachusetts would, as in the olden days, stand once more shoulder to shoulder, with no distinction in the colors they wear. It is fraught with tidings of peace on earth, and you may read its meanings in the words on yonder picture, " Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable." From Death to Life.— usury w. giudy. A soldier lay wounded on a hard-fought battlefield ; the roar of the battle had died away, and he rested in the deathly still- ness of its aftermath. Not a sound was heard as he lay there, sorely smitten and speechless, but the shriek of wounded and the sigh of the dying soul, as it escaped from the turmoil of earth to the unspeakable peace of the stars. Off over the field FROM DEATH TO LIFE. 21 flickered the lanterns of the surgeons, with the litter-bearers. This poor soldier watched, unable to turn or speak, as the lan- terns drew near. At last the light fell in his face, and the sur- geon bent over him, hesitated a moment, shook his head and was gone. The wounded soldier watched in patient agony as they went from one part of the field to another. As they came back, the surgeon bent over him again. " I believe if this poor fellow lives to sundown to-morrow he will get well," he said, and passed on. All niorht long these words fell into the wounded man's heart as the dews fell from the stars upon his lips, " if he but lives till to-morrow's sundown he will get well." He turned his weary head to the east and watched for the coming sun. At last the stars went out, the east trembled with radiance, and the sun, slowly lifting above the horizon, tinged his pallid face with flame". He watched it inch by inch as it climbed slowly up the heavens. He thought of life, its hopes and ambitions, its sweet- ness and its raptures, and he fortified his soul against despair until the sun had reached high noon. It sloped down its low descent, and his life was ebbing away and his heart was faltering, and he needed stronger stimulants to make him stand the strug- gle until the end of the day had come. He thought of his far- off home, the blessed house resting in tranquil peace with the roses climbing to its door, and the trees whispering to its win- dows; and dozing in the sunshine, the orchard, and the little brook running like a silver thread through the forest. "If I live till sundown I will see it again. I will walk down the shady lane, I will open the battered gate; and the mocking- bird shall call me from the orchard, and I will drink again at the old mossy spring." And he thought of the wife who had come from the neigbor- ing farm house and put her hand slyly into his, and brought sweetness to his life and light to his home; he thought of the old father, patient in prayer, and bending low under his load of sorrow and old age; he thought of the little children that clam- bered on his knees, making to him such music as the world shall not equal nor heaven surpass; and then he thought of his old mother, who gathered these children about her and breathed her old heart afresh in their brightness and attuned her old lips anew to their prattle, that she might lire till her big boy came home. "If I live till sundown I will see them all again, and weep away all memories of this desolate night." And the Son of God, Who bad died for men, bending from the star-, put His hand on 22 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the ebbing life and held on the staunch until the sun went down, and the stars came out and shone in the brave man's heart and blurred in his glistening eyes, and the lanterns of the surgeons came and he was taken from death to life. The world is a battlefield, strewn with the wrecks of govern- ments and institutions, of theories and faiths that have gone down in the ravages of years. On this field lies the South, sown with her problems. Upon the field swings the lanterns of God. Amid the carnage walks the great Physician. Over the South He bends. " If ye but live until to-morrow's sundown, ye shall endure, my countrymen." Let us for her sake turn our faces to the east and watch as the soldier watched for the coming sun. Let us staunch her wounds and hold steadfast. The sun mounts the skies. As it descends, let us minister to her and stand con- stant at her side for the sake of our children, and of generations yet unborn that shall suffer if she fails. And when the sun has gone down and the day of her probation has ended, and the stars have rallied her heart, the lanterns shall be swung over the field and the great Physician shall lead her upward from trouble into content, from suffering into peace, from death to life. Tlie New Union.— henry watterson. The duty which draws us together and the day, although appointed by law, comes to us laden with a deeper meaning than they have ever borne before ; and the place which wit- nesses our coming, invests the occasion with increased solemnity and significance. Within this dread but beautiful city, con- secrated in all our hearts and all our homes, two plots of ground with but a hillock between have been set aside to mark the resting of the dead of two armies which in life were called hostile, the Army of the Union, the Army of the Confederacy. We come to decorate the graves of those who died fighting for the Union. Presently others shall come to decorate the graves of those who died for the Confederacy. Yet if these flower- covered mounds could open and those who inhabit them could come forth, not as disembodied spirits, but in the sentient flesh and blood which they wore when they went hence they would rejoice as we do that the hopes of both have been at last ful- filled, and that the Confederacy, swallowed up by the Union, lives again in American manhood and brotherhood, such as were contemplated by the makers of the republic. A PLEA FOR THE SOUTHERN NEGRO. 23 To those of us who were the comrades and contemporaries of the dead that are buried here, who survived the ordeal of battle and who live to bless the day, there is nothing strange or unnatural in this, because we have seen it coming for a long time; we have seen it coming in the kinship of ties even as close as those of a common country; in the robust intercourse of the forum and the market place ; in the sacred interchanges of the domestic affections; but, above all, in the prattle of little children who cannot distinguish between the grandfather who wore the blue and the grandfather who wore the gray. A Plea J or the Southern Negro.— c. c. Smith. This is ihe picture of the negro as left by slavery ; physic- ally, he was impure; mentally, a child; morally, a curiosity; socially and politically he did not exist at all. Suddenly the scene changes: all the old relations are broken up. Freed from all the restraints of the past and cast upon his own resource, just as he is, with the heredity of sin upon him, all at once he becomes his own master: he is called upon to govern himself and others; to be his own educator; turned out free — free to become a child of God or free to become an imp of Satan. In this new state, the first influence brought to bear upon him was that of the " carpet-bagger." lie alienated him from his former master, used him as a political catspaw for the accom- plishment of his own corrupl purposes, and then left him to suf- fer the consequences. Then came the usurer, taking advantage of his need and his ignorance to practise upon him extortion. Then came the rum-seller, taking advantage of his weakness to debauch him with strong drink. Then came the licentious to prey upon hi- impurity. He became an easy prey for all of Satan's minions, lie losl all the protection which slavery gave him and had none of the strength of a true freeman. Ignorance unrestrained became sin; and lust unbridled became pollution. Everybody's distrust of him produced self-distrust; as no one believed in him, he did not believe in himself; and from that, day to this he has Blept like the swine, eaten like the dog, and herded like tie- cattle. Yet for these a plea may well he made. In the midst of this disni imp flow< i ■ row, bj contrast all the brighter. They all love their homes \ tramps they are not, They love their 24 ROSS'S SPEAKER. country : aliens they are not. They in their way believe in God : atheists they are not. Commit to them a great trust and they will be faithful : traitors they are not. Hopeful and happy they are in the midst of squalor and wretchedness : pes- simists they are not. They stand before us with a weird, wild, poetic life, so unique that our disgust is turned into interest and our pity to love. What the negro may become has been shown. You, white man of the South, know what he was when raised near your person. No one need tell you of his right royal gal- lantry and politeness, of his unique service and fidelity even unto death. The plea is not for money as alms or for him to control : this would but make him a pauper. It is not that you should go to him as a social equal ; for if you do you will lose your power to do him good: some one must come to him from above. Nor is the plea for more political power. He, in his present state, has no more use for it than the little child for the sharp knife. No one can govern a country until he has learned to govern himself. The plea is, that he shall not suffer because he is black ; and that he he protected in his rights by the law of the land, by the law administered as well as the law enacted: that he shall not be condemned until proved guilty. But the main plea is that he have a chance to become a man above the fury of the mob. He cannot do this for himself. The plea is then for Christian schools to train men and women, teachers and preachers, who shall lead their own from the land of bondage to the land of promise. Individual is?7i vs. Centralization.— Hon. Dudley g. Wooten. In peace and war, in business and pleasure, in religion and politics, the distinguishing virtue and indispensable attribute of public and private morality, to which every Anglo-Saxon renders unqualified homage and renown, are those of loyalty to trust and devotion to duty. Transmitted to this Western World, these same traits of per- sonal obligation, private honor, individual responsibility and inalienable duty are a necessary and vital part of our social and political inheritance. Strike down the sense of direct moral obligation, obliterate the salutary restraints of private and per- INDIVIDUALISM vs. CENTRALIZATION. 25 sonal honor, and you eliminate the most valuable and vigorous factor in the manhood, independence and potential greatness of American society. It should be a source of never-failing pride and satisfaction to us to reflect that, of all the inhabitants of this Union of states, those who have heretofore most nearly preserved in their purity and practised in their integrity the true and undefiled laws of political, social and individual morality and duty, were the cit- izens of that vanished time and fast-vanishing race — the sons of the Old South. In the simple and sedate atmosphere of those olden days, public virtue and private integrity, business trust and personal honor, were inseparable ; individual manhood and political courage were convertible terms; social purity and a decorous regard for the pious convictions and sacred teachings of religion were accounted the attributes of true gentility, and a uniform courtesy, candor, fidelity and valor were the indispen- sable requirements of social recognition and public distinction. To those who vaunt the superior excellencies and practical ad- vantages of the New South, with its increasing wealth and rapid conversion to the ideas of corporate control and combined in- dustry, it would be both prudent and profitable to study the characteristics of that older civilization whose soft and tender charm, fading with the receding years, is yet "like the sound of distant music, mournful though pleasing to the soul." It was an age of gentle manners, but unyielding courage; an era of cere- monious intercourse, but -of unbroken promises and inviolable faith. Under the influence of more modern conceptions of co- operative enterprise and incorporated industry those pristine virtues of personal responsibility and heroic devotion to duty are fast becoming unknown quantities in the social, business and political relations of our people. And at all these points of social growth and political friction we find the same struggle to maintain and to establish the ancient ideals of individualism and personal freedom against the en- croachments of concentrated wealth, peculiar prerogative and incorporated privilege. If now or henafter among the representative nations of Aryan culture and progress, the innate and organic principles that form the inherited genius and fundamental law of the race develop- ment an- ignored and violated — if individualism Buccumbs to centralization, and natural manhood is usurped by Artificial citi- aouship, then in vain need we strive to preserve the purity and perpetuate the blessings of free democratic institutions, either 26 ROSS'S SPEAKER. here in their chosen ahode or elsewhere among the struggling nations of the earth. But if we shall adhere to the ideals of our race as they have been developed through the ages, if we shall practise and en- force obedience to the primal laws of our social and political health as they have been demonstrated by centuries of cumu- lative evolution and experience, if we are true to our faith and firm in our courage, then the ultimate freedom and union of humanity are not a dreaming phantasy of political theorists, but, "rising on a wind of prophecy," we may even indulge the Apocalyptic vision of the poet: " When the war-drums throb no longer, and the battle-flags are furled, — In the parliament of man, the federation of the world ; There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the peaceful earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law." A Court Scene in the South.— adapted. It was about noon on a sultry day, that wore heavily on both court and jury, when the prosecution announced that it had finished its case. There was little excitement in the audience; it was evidently a clear case of murder, the chain of evidence presented by the State had completely entwined the prisoner. A man had been stabbed ; had fallen dead, his hands clasped over his wound, with not an indication of defence on his part. From beneath his hand, when convulsively opened, a knife had fallen, which, it was shown, the prisoner's wife had seized and concealed. Why should she have concealed it if her husband was innocent of foul play ? There was marked lack of attention on the part of the jury when the dusky prisoner took the stand in his own behalf. He told his story in a straightforward, simple manner; explained how he had killed the deceased in self-defence ; that the knife had fallen from the dead man's hand, and was the one with which he himself had been attacked. It was apparent that nothing he could say would make any impression on the jury; they were decided as to his guilt, so, with a sigh that permeated the whole room, he took his seat. While the prisoner was on the stand, an elderly gentleman with iron-gray hair, and clad in A COURT SCENE IN THE SOUTH. 27 a gray suit, entered the room and stood silently by the door. At the close of the prisoner's plea, the solicitor arose and in a few cold words stated his case: The man had stabbed another wan- tonly. If the knife was the property of the deceased, why was it not produced in court ? The prisoner's wife had picked it up. With this brief summary, lie passed the prisoner's life into the hands of the jury. The judge had arisen, and in solemn style was saying : " Mr. Foreman, and gentlemen of the Jury," when suddenly from the old gentleman in gray came the sharp but decisive words : " If it please your llonor, the prisoner is entitled to the closing argument, and, in the absence of other counsel, I beg you will allow me to speak for the defence." " Mr. Clerk," said the Court, " mark General Robert Thomas for the defence." The court room, which before had been astir with the murmur of those present, was now deathly still. Gen- eral Thomas for the defence ! What could it all mean ? Had any new evidence been discovered? Only the old man, grim, gray, and majestically defiant, stood between the prisoner and the gallows. After standing a moment and gazing about the court room with an air of disgust, he said with quick but quiet energy : " The knife that was found by the dead man's side was his own. He had drawn it before he was stabbed. Ben Thomas is a brave man; a strong man; he would never have used a weapon, if his antagonist had been unarmed. A brave man who is full of strength never draws a weapon to repel a simple attack. The defendant drew his knife when he saw a knife in the hand of his foe, not from fear, but to equalize the combat. Why do I say he was brave? Every man upon this jury shoul- dered his musket, during the war. Some of you were perhaps .it Gettysburg; I was there too." [t was evident that the General had aroused a dcepfelt interest by his allusion to the old days when all the men for miles about entered the army, and many had served under the old General, whose war r< rd was a household legend. " I and the only brother that God ever gave me. 1 well remember that fight The enemy met our onslaught with a courage and gril that could not be shaken. Line after line melted away, and at last came Pickett's charge. "Yon know the result, Oul of that vortex of flame and that storm "f lead and iron a handful drifted back. From one to another ;i man of black skin was seen to run. On, mi lie went ; gone "lie moment and in Bight the next, on, up to the flaming cannon themselves. There he stooped and lifted a form from the ground; and then, stumbling, staggering under his load, 28 ROSS'S SPEAKER. made his way back across that field of death, until, meeting him halfway, I took the burden myself from the hero and bore it myself to safety. That burden was the senseless form of my brother " — here the General paused, and walking rapidly towards the prisoner, he raised his arm on high, and his voice rang out like a trumpet, — "gashed and bleeding and mangled, but alive, thank God ! And the man who bore him out, who brought him to me in his arms as a mother would a sick child, himself torn by a fragment of a shell until the great heart was almost drop- ping from his breast, that man, my friends, sits here accused of murder." To add emphasis to his plea, he tore open the prisoner's shirt and laid bare his breast on which were the scars of that terrible day. " Look ! " he cried, " and bless the sight, for that scar was won by a slave in an hour that tried the cour- age of free men and put to its highest test the best manhood of the South. No man who won such wounds could thrust a knife into an unarmed assailant. I have come seventy miles in my old age to say this." The jury did not even retire, but instantly returned a verdict of " Not guilty ! " Some may say that this was contrary to the evidence, but if one could judge from the appearance of the spectators, as they left the court-house, they were content. Even the apparently cold-hearted solicitor, who bore a scar on his forehead that dated back to the old days when North and South were estranged, received the verdict with a smile that indicated his approval. * The Negro Vote in the South— kenry w.Grady. The question is asked repeatedly, " "When will the black man in the South cast a free ballot ? When will he have the civil rights that are his ? " When will the black cast a free ballot ? When ignorance anywhere is not dominated by the will of the intelligent; when the laborer anywhere casts a ballot unhindered by his boss; when the strong and the steadfast do not everywhere control the suffrage of the weak and the shiftless. Then, but not till then, will the ballot of the negro be free. The white people of the South are banded together not in race prejudice against the blacks, not in sectional estrangement, not in the desire of political dominion, but in a deep and abid- ing necessitv. Here is this vast ignorant and venal vote—clan- nish, credulous, impulsive and passionate — tempted by every THE NEGRO TOTE IN THE SOUTH. 29 art of the demagogue, but insensible to the appeal of the states- man. Its credulity is imposed upon, its patience is inflamed, its cupidity is aroused, its impulses are misdirected, and even its superstitions made to play their part in a campaign in which every interest of society is jeopardized and every approach to the ballot box is debauched. It is against such campaigns — the folly and bitterness of which every Southern community has drunk deeply — that the white people of the South are banded together. Just as you in New York state would be banded if 300,000 voters, not one in a hundred able to read his own bal- lot, unified by a race instinct, cherishing against you the memory of a hundred years of slavery, taught by your late conquerors to hate and distrust you, had already travestied legislation from your state capitol, and in every species of folly had wasted your substance and exhausted your credit. The negro can never control in the South, and it would be well if partisans in the North would understand this. If there is any human force that cannot be withstood it is the power of the banded intelli- gence and responsibility of a free community. Against this numbers and corruption cannot prevail. It cannot be forbidden in the law or divorced in force. It is the inalienable right of every free community and the just and righteous safeguard against an ignorant and corrupt suffrage. It is on this that we rely in the South, not on the cowardly meance of mask or shot- gun, but upon the peaceful majesty of intelligence and respon- sibility, massed and uniiied for the protection of its homes and the preservation of its liberties. This is our reliance and our hope, and against it all the powers of the earth cannot prevail. You may pass vour fon-c bills, but they will not avail. You may surrender your own liberties to a Federal election law; you may invite Federal interference with the New England town- meeting, that has stood for a hundred years as the guarantee of local government in America; that old state which holds in its charter the boast that it is a " free and independent common- wealth' 1 may surrender its own political machinery to a Federal government which it helped to create, but never will a single state, North or South, be again delivered to the control of an ignorant and inferior race. We irrested our state government from negro snpremacy when the Federal drumbeal rolled closer to the ballol l">\ and when Federal bayonets hedged it aboul closer than will ever again be permitted in this free community. Bui it' Federal cannon thundered in every vuting district of the South wo 30 ROSS'S SPEAKER. ■would still find in the mercy of God the means ?md the courage to prevent its rc-establishment. The Future of the Southern Negro. -booker t. Washington. No race that is so largely ignorant and so recently out of slavery could, perhaps, show a better record in the percentage of crimes committed than the negroes in the South ; and yet we must face the plain fact that there is too much crime among them. A large percentage of the crimes grow out of the idle- ness of our young negro men and women. It is for this reason that I have tried to insist that some industry be taught in con- nection with their course of literary training. No race has ever gotten upon its feet without discouragements and struggles. The negro, let me add, has among many of the Southern whites as good friends as he has anywhere m the world. With the best white people and the best black people standing together in favor of law and order and justice, I believe that the safety and happiness of both races will be made secure. We are one in this country. When one race is strong the other is strong ; when one is weak the other is weak. There is no power that can separate our destiny. Unjust laws and cus- toms that exist in many places injure the white man and incon- venience the negro. No race can wrong another race simply because it has the power to do so without being permanently injured in its own morals. If a white man steals a negro's bal- lot it is the white man who is permanently injured. Physical death comes to one negro lynched in a count}', but death of morals comes to those responsible for the lynching. In the economy of God there is but one standard by which an individual can succeed ; there is but one for a race. This coun- try expects that every race shall measure itself by the American standard. During the next half century and more the negro must continue passing through the severe American crucible. He is to be tested in his patience, his forbearance, his perseverance, his power to endure wrong — to withstand temptations, to econ- omize, to acquire and use skill — his ability to compete, to suc- ceed in commerce, to disregard the superficial for the real, the appearance for the substance, to be great and yet small, learned and yet simple, high and yet the servant of all. This, this is thb passport to all that is best in the life of our Republic, and the negro must possess it or be barred out. FRATERNALISM vs. SECTIONALISM. 31 Fraternalism vs. Sectionalism.— Hon. s. w. t. Lanham, of Texas. I am one of those who rejoice in the belief that the very flower and chivalry of American manhood were eminently rep- resented in the soldiery of the war between the states, and I stand chcerfnl to accord the utmost credit to the virtue, the courage, and the patriotism of every honest actor in that contest, whether he worthily wore the uniform and maintained the flag of the one side or the other. In this sentiment I am joined by the men who fought for the Confederacy and have survived the clash of arms. I believe that it is reciprocated by the vast body of the old soldiers in the North. All that is needed to accomplish the utter destruction of sectionalism, so far as it may have arisen on account of the war, is a correct understanding of each other and a concert of earnest action. To whatever political organization we may be- long, how widely soever we may separate in other respects, it is not and ought not to be inconsistent with our conviction of loy- altv to legitimate party demands and devotion to our country's welfare, to combine our influence and endeavors to the upbuilding of citizen brotherhood and the downfall of sectional estrange- ment and hostility. Whoever in this day shall be tempted by selfish ambition, or other motive, to foster and encourage sec- tional feelings, is unworthy of consideration by his party asso- ciates, and should have left upon him a brand of excommunica- tion from the order of American patriotism. Mr. Chairman, when from the hilltop of the present, we overlook the plains of the next century ; when we survey our national magnificence of to-day, and contemplate the mighty possibilities of tin; future; when we reflect how much has been accomplished in building up the waste places and healing the wounds made by the war; when we consider our common origin and the heritage left us by our common sires; when we realize the homogeneity of our ancestry and cherish together the memory of their immortal deeds; when we jointly admire the foundations they laid for popular government and behold with pride the Btately Btructure of liberty and civilization erected thereon; when we recognize our national kinship and anticipate the splendid future products of our patriotic ami CO-operative energies; when we observe how necessary we all an; to each other— surely, when we appreciate all these things, there i- no room for individual resentment or Bectional antagonism, but, on 32 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the contrary, there is every inducement for the beneficent reign of a cordial American fellowship. Indulge me, in conclusion, to say that I wish I could incite the old soldiers throughout the land to " the victories of peace ; " to wage uncompromising hostility against every species of unjust proscription of their fellow men ; to strike to the death the vice of sectionalism ; to tear down the battlements of monopoly ; to crush out the evils of class legislation ; to break the manacles of industrial captivity and commercial subjugation ; to shatter the bolts which lock up from the channels of trade the necessary supply of monetary circulation ; to batter down the prison walls which restrain any of the agencies and factors of our national growth and prosperity, and to fully enlarge all the elements that logically combine to make this the best government on the face of the earth. To this end, God speed the day when from North and South, all Shall meet as one — At the glad welcome of their country's call. A United CWw^r?/. -Senator George F. Hoar. If cordial friendship can ever exist between two communi- ties, it should exist between Massachusetts and South Carolina. They were alike in the circumstances of their origin. The Eng- lish Pilgrims and Puritans founded Massachusetts, Scotch Pres- byterians founded Carolina, to be followed soon after by the French exiles fleeing from the same oppression. If there be a single lesson which the people of this country have learned from their wonderful and crowded history, it is that the North and South are indispensable to each other. They are the blades of mighty shears, worthless apart, but, when bound by indissoluble union, powerful, irresistible, and terrible as the shears of Fate. ^Yhatever estrangement may have existed in the past, or may linger among us now, is born of ignorance and will be dis- pelled by knowledge. The American people have learned to know, as never before, the quality of Southern stock and to value its noble contribution to the American character ; its courage in war, its attachment to home and state ; its love of rural life, its capacity for great affection and generous emotion ; its aptness for command ; above all, its constancy, that virtue NATIONAL UNITY. 33 above all virtues, without which no people can long be either great or free. The time has come when Americans — North, South, East, and "West — may discuss any question of public interest in a friendly and quiet spirit, each understanding the other, each striving to help the other as men who are bearing a common burden and looking forward with a common hope. On the whole, we are advancing quite as rapidly as could be expected to the time when all the different races of men will live together on Ameri- can soil in honor and in peace, every man enjoying his just right wherever the American flag floats, where the influence of intelligence, of courage, of energy inspired by a lofty patriotism and a Christian love, will have its full and legitimate effect, not through disorder, or force, or lawlessness, but under the silent and sure law by which always the superior leads and the inferior follow. National Uniiy.—'Wu. l. prathkr, President of the University of Texas. The idea of national unity is as yet young. We have been geographically a nation, territorially a nation, governmentally a nation, ethically a nation — for a century. But the development of a true national unity in the fullest sense of the term is one of the groat problems for the education of the future — a problem whose significance and importance we must be fully awake to. Think of the intellectual triumphs which await a nation of eightv million souls, enjoying opportunities of culture that are accessible to all, from the meanest to the highest, untrammeled by artificial social distinctions, possessing a quickness of intel- lect and adaptability that goes hand in hand with solid and sturdv moral character, to form the best foundation for the best kind of intellectual culture; and possessing those elements and characteristics in a measure and degree unequalled among the nations of 1 1 » + - world. This is our opportunity, and if we fail to realize it, we are failing of a full conception of our national duty. One of tin; happiest results which the intercommunication of education lias wrought is the larger ability to discuss philo- sophically, wisely, and with less passion and prejudice, the great questions affecting US as a nation and parts <>( the same nation. 34 ROSS'S SPEAKER. We should never forget that we are brothers, members of the same household ; that this nation is a family of states ; and that whatever affects favorably or unfavorably the welfare of one, affects the whole nation. We must rise to a true conception of this idea if we would in the future avoid sectionalism, and secure the welfare of the whole people rather than the welfare of a particular section. Truth and frankness should characterize our dealings with each other as individuals, as states, and as a whole people. One of the most potent forces now contributing to the development of such a national sympathy is the State Univer- sity. If it be true that " the arrival of democracy is the fact of our time, which overshadows all other facts," the very incarnation of true democracy is found in the modern State University. A university for the people without distinctions of rank is the regenerating thought of the new world. In the glorious prog- ress of American manhood and womanhood, universities are the torchbearers of American civilization. It is a serious error on the part of our politicans to charge that the great teachers and thinkers of our universities are mere theorists. No wiser step has been taken by our rulers than when they utilized in the affairs of government the training, the learning, and the wisdom of the scholars of this nation. They brought to their aid the lessons of all history, and bravely applied them to the solution of new and perplexing problems, thereby enriching the achievements of American statesmanship. To these great cen- tres of learning, planted in every state of this rapidly expanding union, as well as to our common schools, we must look in the future for that stalwart and vitalizing American sentiment which shall not only withstand, but shall quickly transform and assim- ilate, the uninstrncted foreign population now flocking to our shores. Our safety as a people demands a wise and vigorous effort to educate the masses to an intelligent appreciation of the blessings which we as freemen enjoy. The educational forces of this country are doing a great work towards breaking down sectionalism, allaying party strife and promoting the peace, pros- perity and unity of this nation. It is my clear conviction that it would be wise for the American people to cease establishing new colleges and univer- sities, and to concentrate their efforts in strengthening those already founded, thereby increasing their power and efficiency. The State University at the head of the state system of educa- tion is an evolution of the best western thought, and the noblest EXPAND AT HOME AND NOT IN THE PHILIPPINES. 35 civic achievement of the commonwealth. There should be the closest and most harmonious relation between the university and all the educational agencies of the state. As the university grows, its magnetic life should pervade every district school, and be an inspiration and blessing to all good learning. The system of elementary and secondary education should culminate in the university. If the newer universities, thus developed from the expanding intellectual life of our people, are tied in bonds of closest sym- pathy and fraternal co-operation to the older universities already established, and so unite with them to maintain the highest ideals of American life and American thought, the time is not far distant when American culture shall be a national culture, exerting on the nations of the earth an influence, as wide and potent as was that of Greece and Rome, in uplifting and en- dsditening the world. Expand at Home and Not in the Philippines. D. A. DkArmond, op Missouri. It is argued that if we are to be the leading nation of the Anglo-Saxon race, we must undertake the task of governing the Filipinos. Sir, our tasks are here. Our duty is to our own people. When we have builded a greater republic here, when we have advanced in the development of our resources, when we have furnished the steady light for the guidance of the world, then we shall have performed well our part in history. Here is our theatre. Here Providence has cast our lot. Here is the Bcene of our duty. Here is the field of the glorious achieve- ments of our fathers. Here is the arena for our children. Why seek to enlarge it in the Old World ? Why seek to add to it that which can never be harmonized with it? Some gentlemen suggest that the. Filipinos shall not onne in as citi/.ens of the United States. What, then, do you want with them ? What is to be their relation to the people of this coun- try, if they are not to become citizens of the United States? I do not wish them to he citizens of the United States. I do not believe in lowering the level of citizenship so that they can reach it. I do not believe in adding to the bulk of illiteracy, of venality, of corruption, that which is to come in by the incor- poration of the Filipinos. But do you say, "Let us hold them?" What a magnificent 36 ROSS'S SPEAKER. spectacle that would be to the rest of the world ! What a trav- esty upon republicanism for the giant Republic, the exemplar Republic, the Republic in the van, to go into the business of holding colonies and subduing and governing people as the monarchies, absolute and despicable, do ! What encouragement could we thus afford to struggling hu- manity the world over? How many thousands, aye, how many millions of people, have looked across the dark scenes of the present, hoping to see the brighter light of the future — hoping to see the gleam of the star of liberty blazing in the great Republic of America, in the western world, and trusting that thence the inspiration would come, teaching that man can gov- ern himself, and inviting the brave, the resolute, the true, the generous, to escape from onerous conditions existing and par- take of that liberty which we Americans have long enjoyed. What message shall we send out to those people if, instead of continuing the champion of personal liberty, we now turn to be the oppressor? How shall we hope to maintain a Government such as we have so long boasted of — a Government of freemen by freemen — if the Government itself is to engage in the business of subjugating and oppressing the Filipinos, lately our allies, in another hemisphere? How shall we hope, after having taken up the business of protecting the oppressed and affording an asylum to the weak and suffering throughout the whole world, to escape condemnation, if in turn, we, ourselves, adopt a pol- icy of subjugation and force rule ? Let us not stumble alone: blindfolded until the fact that we never have parted with any territory once regarded as our own may be used as an argument and a sentiment against doing what is certain, if we persist in this course of imperialism, soon to be proved necessary for our own welfare — to get away from the Orient and devote our energies to our own country and hemi- sphere, to the protection and the upbuilding of our own institu- tions at home. Tlte Independent Voter.— Lko n. Levi. In every government parties are inevitable, if not necessary. In our government they are necessary to the perpetuity of the government itself. Our Constitution was a compromise ; the machinery of our government was adopted in accordance with that compromise. The great struggle between the Federalists THE INDEPENDENT VOTER. 37 and Republicans was relegated to posterity, and the contest still continues and will continue until the end. The logical issue of a strong and centralized government is illustrated in the despotism of Bismarck and the Czar. The logical issue of pure democracy was reached in the French revo- lution and the commune. In England and the United States the advocates of either principles are nearly evenly matched, and the conservatism resulting gives us the two best govern, nients of modern times. Nothing in our present condition should excite our exultation so much as the fact that the two great American parties are of almost equal number, ability and power. It insures conservatism and honesty in public affairs, and leaves the balance of power where it should be lodged — with the independent voter. The independent voter is the safety valve of the republic. He is the most responsible, most intelligent, the bravest of our citizens. He is, above all others, the patriot whose patriotism is neither an incident to nor a means of self-preservation. " It is base abandonment of reason to resign the right of thought." Such disaffection purifies and strengthens a party. It deposes inefficient and corrupt leaders. It is the sword of Damocles that is constantly suspended over the head of the demagogue. Were there no such independence, party leaders would become tyrants, and the government would be at the mercy of the man who best succeeded in whipping or bribing votes to the polls. Our government was born of the individu- ality and independence of the colonists. They remained loyal to the mother country until repeated and long-continued abuses made loyalty svnoiivmoiis with the surrender of manhood. Then leaped into the full vigor of revolution the courageous spirit of liberty and independence. During eight years of pri- vation and danger, that are but half told when the power of the historian is exhausted, they struggled with unabated courage. The God of justice was with them; and lo! an infant nation sprung into life, taint, impoverished and weak, but rich in the heritage of freedom bequeathed by the countless martyrs of the past. The independence of the Americans was the progenitor and birthright of the nation. Believe me, my friends, we cannot surrender the basis of out greal ness without destroying the imac- nificent superstructure. From independence we were born ; by it we have grown great; through it, and only through indepen- dence ''in we endure. I recognize in our country the fruition 38 ROSS'S SPEAKER. of all the hopes and prayers that have mingled with the martyr's tears since the morning of time. The seed of freedom that could not germinate in the eastern hemisphere, in the virgin soil of a new continent sprung into a magnificent tree that was rooted on Independence day, and destined, let us trust, to flourish for all time. It is because of the blessings our country is able to afford that I would name and guard against the dangers that threaten her purity, power and stability. The parasite is not less dangerous because we refuse to recognize its existence. The very genius of this occasion is loyalty to our country's flag, which we thus annually renew with freshened enthusiasm. It is well that the heart should be stirred by national anthems and plaudits for the national banner, but more enduring in sub- stance and value than anthems and hosannas is that patriotism that perennially burns and that should on such occasions burst into a flame of resolve to perpetuate and practise the revolu- tionary slogan, " Independence now and forever." Our Policy Toward Porto Rico.—s. w. t. lanham, op Texas. The time has come when, in Porto Rico at least, it would seem that in some degree civil government is to be substituted for military rule. It is not to be forgotten that the people of this island greeted our approach and welcomed American sov- ereignty, and the assurances we then gave them ought to be constantly kept in mind and faithfully executed. They have not engaged in any insurrection against our authority since it was first asserted. No insurgency on their part has menaced our peace, nor taken the lives of our soldiery. Our flag has floated serenely over the Porto Ricans. That they will cheer- fully acquiesce in any just dominion we may establish, and under proper treatment from us will continue to rejoice in the transfer of their allegiance from Spain to the United States and their permanent connection with our great Union, it seems reasonable to assume. How shall we demean ourselves toward them, and what shall we do with them ? It is recorded that when Alexander invaded India and captured Porus, a rich and powerful king, he inquired of his captive how he thought he ought to be treated. " Like a king," was the proud answer made to the conqueror's question ; and it is said that Alexander give him back his kingdom, to be held, however, subject to the EDUCATION AND CHARACTER. 59 Macedonian crown. How shall wc treat the Porto Ricans, and what treatment have they the right to expect at our hands ? Are they less deserving than was Porus, the Indian king ? Are we less magnanimous than was the ancient Grecian warrior ? Is there with us more of barbarism and less of human toleration in the closing year of the nineteenth century than there was with the heathen in 327 B. C. ? Is the spirit of American greed stronger than was the rapacity of Grecian conquest? Is Punic faith a trait of American character ? We must either treat this people like Americans, or as an alien race unworthy of sharing the hlcssings of our Government and beyond the pale of our Constitution. As a patriotic American, I would not have my country shirk any proper responsibility or evade any duty it owes to itself or to those whom the fortunes of war have placed within its care and keeping and beneath its shield and protection. I earnestly desire that it should suitably discharge every honorable obliga- tion resting upon it and mete out entire justice, both to its per- fect and inchoate citizens. It cannot afford to do wrong. Its conscience must be preserved and its good name and national character and plighted faith must be maintained. I earnestly pray that it may be equal to every present and future emer- gency ; that it may hold fast to the faith of the fathers, and that every " blessing of liberty " may continue to abide with us and be transmitted unimpaired to those who shall come after us. Education and Character.- V) 'u. l. Pr&thbb. Km cation is the most important subject that can engage the attention of young men and women. When Aristotle was as! ed in what way the educated differed from the uneducated, he replied : " As the livine; differ from the dead." In the early part of our history the American college was largely ecclesiastical, ami young men attended college to study church creeds. Gradually, however, the college became a civil and political institution. When the commonwealth, realizing that a gi ncral diffusion <>f knowledge was essential to the pres- ervation of the liberties and rights of the people, undertook the great duty of educating its children, and each state of the Union established a university at, the head of its system of public education, the American university passed to a higher 40 ROSS'S SPEAKER. and broader plane, and now has for its object the preparation of men and women for all the high duties of citizenship. This university was established by Texans for Texans, and must be administered for Texans. Every officer and employee should be imbued with a patriotic desire to serve this great commonwealth. Every young man and young woman educated within these walls owes it to the state to repay its outlay for them. The greatest good that can come into the life of a human being through the process of education is a personal richness and beauty. "Education is not to make us seem to be greater to the world, but that the world and all life and all eternity may seem greater and richer and more beautiful to us." Let me hold up to you the beauty and glorious possibilities of the youth with which you are endowed. Do you realize what a peerless privilege it is to be young ? Youth is admitted by all to be the most fascinating period of life, with its freshness, its enthu- siasm and confidence, frankly responding to every act of kind- ness and opening the heart to every overture of love. It has been said, " Youth is the time when we own the world and the fulness thereof. Youth, like Napoleon, sees the world and proceeds to conquer it. Youth sees mountains and dares to climb them ; stone walls, and dares to beat them down ; chasms, and dares to bridge them." Youth here at the beginning of the twentieth century has all history and all lands for its demesne, though it may live in a cottage or a cabin. It has for its birth- right every discovery, every invention, every conquest since the world began. Youth, for which the cave dwellers made their rude implements of stone as they groped their way in the dawn of human evolution. Youth, for whom Shakespeare wrote, for whom Newton and Kepler and Edison solved the mysteries of the world, and for whom the twentieth century is preparing to open its golden gates of promise. Let me emphasize the fact that character is above everything. It is the only indestructible material in destiny's fierce crucible. Character is itself a rank and an estate. Character stands in majesty unawed and unmoved before men and devils. Char- acter stands confident and trustful in the presence of God him- self. Genius, so often lauded, fails frequently of its aim for want of character to support it. The men upon whom society leans are men of proved honor, rectitude and consistency, whose sterling character gives pledge of faithfulness to every trust com- mitted to them. REUNITED. 41 Thackeray says: " Nature has written a letter of credit upon some men's faces which is honored wherever presented. There is a ' promise to pay ' in their faces that inspires confidence, and you prefer it to another man's indorsement.'' As the rivulet scoops out the valley, moulds the hillside and carves the moun- tain's face, so the stream of thought sculptures the soul into grace, mellows the heart to tenderness and love, and these are mirrored in the countenance. In summing up all I would say to you, let mc borrow the fine phrase of a gifted man of our own time : " Live out truly your human life as a human life ; not as a supernatural life, for you are a man and not an angel ; not as a sensual life, for you are a man and not a brute ; not as a wicked life, for you arc a man and not a demon ; not as a frivolous life, for you are a man and not an insect. Live each day the true life of a man to-day ; not yesterday's life only, lest you become a visionary ; but the life of happy yesterdays and confident to- morrows — the life of to-day, unwounded by the Parthian arrows of yesterday and undarkened by the possible cloudland of to- morrow." Rev 11 itcd.— William McKinlkt. I cannot withhold from these people my profound thanks for their hearty reception and the good will which they have shown me everywhere and in every way since T have been their guest. I thank them for the opportunity which this occasion gives me of meeting and greeting thero and for the pleasure it affords me to participate with them in honoring the army and navy, to whose achievements we are indebted for one of the most bril- liant chapters of American history. Under hostile lire, on a foreign soil, fighting in a common '•aii^e the memory of old disagreements has faded into history. Prom camp and campaign there comes the magic healing which has closed ancient wounds and effaced their scars. For this result ever] American patriot will forever rejoice. It is no small indemnity for the cost of war. The government has proved itself invincible in the recent war, and out, of it has come a nation which will remain indivisible forevermore. No worthier contributions have been made in patriotism and in men than by the people of these Southern States. When at. last the opportunity came they were eager 42 ROSS'S SPEAKER. to meet it and ■with promptness responded to the call of the country. Intrusted with the able leadership of men dear to them, who had marched with their fathers under another flag, now fighting under the old flag again, they have gloriously helped to defend its spotless folds and added new lustre to its shining stars. That flag has been planted in two hemispheres, and there it remains, the symbol of liberty and law, of peace and progress. Who will withdraw from the people over whom it floats its pro- tecting folds? Who will haul it down? The victory we celebrate is not that of a ruler, a President, or of a Congress, but of the people. The army whose valor we admire and the navy whose achievements we applaud were not assembled by draft or conscription, but by voluntary enlistment. The heroes came from civil as well as military life. Trained and untrained soldiers wrought our triumphs. The peace we have won is not a selfish truce of arms, but one whose conditions presage good to humanity. The domains se- cured by the treaty yet to be acted upon by the Senate came to us, not as the result of a crusade of conquest, but as the reward of temperate, faithful, and fearless response to the call of con- science, which could not be disregarded by a liberty-loving and Christian people. We have so borne ourselves in the conflict and in our inter- course with the powers of the world as to escape complaint of complication and give universal confidence in high purpose and unselfish sacrifices for struggling peoples. The task is not ful- filled. Indeed, it is only just begun. This is the time for earnest, not faint hearts. The most serious work is still before us, and every energy of heart and mind must be bent and the impulses of partisanship subordinated to its faithful execution. This war was waged, not for revenge or aggrandizement, but for our oppressed neighbors, for their freedom and amelioration. It was short but decisive. It recorded a succession of significant victories on land and sea. It gave new honors to American arms. It has brought new problems to the Republic, whose solution will tax the genius of our people. United we will meet and solve them with honor to ourselves and to the lasting bene- fit of all concerned. The war brought us together ; its settle- ment will keep us together. Reunited ! Glorious realization ! It expresses the thought of my mind and the long-deferred consummation of my heart's desire as I stand in this presence. It interprets the hearty A TLEA FOR CUBA. 43 demonstration here witnessed and is the patriotic refrain of all sections and of all lovers of the Republic. Reunited ! One country again and one country forever ! Proclaim it from the press and pulpit ! Teach it in the school? ! Write it across the skies ! The world sees and feels it ! It cheers every heart. North and South, and brightens the life of every American home. Let nothing ever strain it again. At peace with all the world and with each other, what can stand in the pathway of our progress and prosperity ? A Plea for Cuba.— John M. Thurston. I am here by command of silent lips to speak once and for all upon the Cuban situation. I shall endeavor to be honest, c >nservative and just. I have no purpose to stir the public passion to any action not necessary and imperative to meet the duties and necessities of American responsibility, Christian hu- manity and national honor. I would shirk this task if I could, but I dare not. I cannot satisfy my conscience except by speak- ing and speaking now. The pictures in the American newspapers of the starving n .oiicentrados are true. They can all be duplicated by the thousands. I never saw, and please God 1 may never again see, so deplorable a sight as the reconcentrados in the suburbs of Matanzas. I can never forget to my dying day the hop, anguish in their despairing eyes. Men, women and children stand silent — famishing with hunger. Their only appeal conies from their sad eyes, through which one looks as through an open window into their agonizing souls. The government of Spain has not and will not appropriate one dollar to save these people. They are now being attended and nursed and admin- istered to by the charity of the United States. Think of the spectacli I We are feeding these citizens of Spain; we are nursing their sick; we are saving Buch as can be saved, and yet there are those who still Bay it is right for us to send food, but we musl keep hands off. I say that the time has come when muskets ought to go with the food. I shall refer to these horrible things no further. They are there. God pity me, 1 have seen them; they will remain in my mind forever — and this is almost the twentieth century. Christ died nineteen hundred years ago, and Spain is a Christian na- tion. She has Bel up more crosses in more lands, beneath more 44 ROSS'S SPEAKER skies, and under them has butchered more people than all the other nations of the earth combined. Europe may tolerate her existence as long as the people of the Old World wish. But God grant that before another Christmas morning the last vestige of Spanish oppression and tyranny will have vanished from the Western Hemisphere. Mr. President, the distinguished Senator from Vermont has seen all these things; he knows all these things; he has de- scribed all these things ; but after describing them he says he has nothing to propose, no remedy to suggest. I have. I am only a humble unit in the great government of the United States, but I should feel myself a traitor did I remain silent now. The time for action has come. No greater reason for it can exist to-morrow than exists to-day. Every hour's delay only adds another chapter to the awful story of misery and death. Only one power can intervene — the United States of America. Ours is the one great nation of the New World, the mother of American Republics. She holds a position of trust and respon- sibility toward the peoples and the affairs of the whole Western Hemisphere. Mr. President, thei'c are those who say that the affairs of Cuba are not the affairs of the United States, who insist that we can stand idly by and see that island devastated and depopu- lated, its business interests destroyed, its commercial intercourse with us cut off, its people starved, degraded and enslaved. It may be the naked, legal right of the United States to stand thus idly by. I have the legal right to pass along the streets and see a help- less dog stamped into the earth under the heels of a ruffian. I can pass by and say that is not my dog. I can sit in my com- fortable parlor with my loved ones gathered about me, and through my plate-glass window see a fiend outraging a helpless woman near by, and I can legally say this is no affair of mine — it is not happening on my premises; and I can turn away and take my little ones in my arms, and, with the memory of their sainted mother in my heart, look up to the motto on the wall and read, "God bless our home." But if 1 do, I am a coward and a cur, unlit to live, and, God knows, unfit to die. And yet I cannot protect the dog nor save the woman without the exer- cise of force. We cannot intervene and save Cuba without the exercise of force, and force means war; war means blood. The lowly Nazarenc on the. °hores of Galilee preached the divine doctrine LITTLE GIFFEN, OF TENNESSEE. 45 of love, "Peace on earth, good will toward men." Not peace on earth at the expense of liberty and humanity. Not good will toward men who despoil, enslave, degrade, and starve to death their fellow-men. I believe in the doctrine of Christ. 1 believe in the doctrine of peace; but Mr. President, men must have liberty before there can come abiding peace. The time for God's force has come again. Let the impas- sioned lips of American patriots once more take up the song: In the beauty of the lilies Christ was borne across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigured you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, For God is marching on. Others may hesitate, others may procrastinate, others may plead for further diplomatic negotiation, which means delay, but for me, I am ready to act now, and for my action I am ready to answer to my conscience, my country and my God. Mr. President, in the cable that moored me to life and hope the strongest strands are broken. I have but little left to offer at the altar of Freedom's sacrifice, but all I have 1 am glad to give. I am ready to serve my country as best I can in the Senate or in the field. My dearest wish, my most earnest prayer to God is this, that when death comes to end all, I may meet it calmly and fearlessly as did my beloved, in the cause of human- ity under the American flag. Little (liffp.n, of Tcnnrszcc TnE story of Little i be buried in one of tho numerous graves in Oakland cemetery which hear the melancholy legend, " Unknown " The poem was written by l>r. V. 0. Tichuor : Out of the focal and foremosl fire, Out of the hospital walls a- diro, 46 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene, (Eighteen battles and he sixteen !) Spectre ! such as you seldom see, Little Giffen, of Tennessee ! "Take him and welcome," the surgeon said; " Little the doctor can help the dead." So we took him, and brought him where The balm was sweet in the summer air; And we laid him down on a wholesome bed- Utter Lazarus from heel to head ! And we watched the war with a bated breath, Skeleton boy against skeleton death, Mouths of torture, how many such? Weary weeks of the stick and crutch ; And still the glint of the steel-blue eye Told of a spirit that wouldn't die. And didn't. Nay, more ! in death's despite The crippled skeleton learned to write. " Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then " Dear Captain," inquiring about the men. Captain's answer : " Of eighty and five, Giffen and I are left alive." Word of gloom from the war one day : Johnson pressed at the front, they say. Little Giffen was up and away ; A tear, his first, as he bade good-bye, Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye; " I'll write, if spared ! " There was news of the fight, But none of Giffen — he did not write. I sometimes fancy that were I king Of the princely Knight of the Golden Ring, With the song of the minstrel in mine ear, And the tender legend that trembles here, I'd give the best on his bended knee, The whitest soul of my chivalry, For "Little Giffen, of Tennessee." DEVELOPMENT OF SOUTHERN RESOURCES. 47 On the Development of Southern Resources. Wb. H. Garland, It is pleasing, with folded arms, "to stand and gaze at the gor- geous sunset ; to mark each floating cloud as it is touched with its golden fringe, and weave fancy after fancy into a bright tis- sue for the future; thus to stand until the stars peep out, an \ then, with a bound of the spark ethereal, which gives life and variety to man's thoughts, pass from star to star, peopling them with our thoughts, and rilling them with our fancies; but while we are pursuing these fancies of the mind, Nature in her changes reminds us, by the gathering darkness and falling dew, that man's life was not to be all a dream, but that on him rested high responsibilities ; that while he was thus indulging in pleasing fancies, and permitting the mind to waste itself in dreams, he was neglecting the development of those blessings which Nature has so bounteously bestowed on him. In this day and time, when the mind is exercising its sover- eignty over matter, the truth is felt and recognized that the gath- ering of the fruit, and the enjoyment of the blessings of Heaven, belongs not to the inert and slothful, but to those who, by the employment of those faculties of the mind with which a good God has blessed them, render the things of this world subservi- ent to the great ends of their creation, the happiness and per- fection of man. Let not, then, this convention waste its time on the pleasing fancies that cluster around abstract questions, but let it, like that circlet of stars, cluster around one great idea, until their concentrated rays shall form one burning centre, so bright that the path which leads to the power, prosperity, and happiness of the south shall be so plain that none will hesitate. What this idea should be, it is only necessary for us to look abroad to our sister states, and see the rapid strides which some of them have made to greatness and wealth. But ;i few years since New York occupied but a secondary position in the eon- federation of states: now she is the empire state in popula- tion, wealth, and power. The genius of her Clinton opened her western resources, and filled her forests with a teeming popula- tion. The mind of her people indulged not in pleasing dreams, but was directed to the development of those gifts with which God had blessed them. Ohio caught the brighl spirit of prog- ress, and her lines of improvement, by penetrating every corn< r have filled her rich valleys with a teeming population, and mad* hei on.- of the first states . .1' tin • I "iii»»ii. Georgia, firsl of tun Southern States, was roused to the employment of her energies; 48 ROSS'S SPEAKER. and now her barren plains are the abode of j- --"nictive industry and the happy coltage marks each of her mour r ain passes. From these let us gather wisdom, and by the emplo3'ment of the bright, noble spirit of the south, develop those advantages which Nature has so bounteously bestowed on us. Carry your lines of improvement to every section, and thus open for "it a highway for the transfer of the productions of its industry, and you will soon bring wealth and power to the south. Much has been said of the unequal influence of the south in the hall of Congress, and resolution upon resolution has been offered on the subject ; but this will not rectify the inequality. To do this let the mind of the south be directed to the develop- ment of the advantages which Nature has so bounteously be- stowed on her, and thus fill her now waste lands with a teeminp population. This increased population will bring her increased representation on the floors of Congress, and to this, and this alone are we to look for an equalization of power. The Same, continued. It is not, Mr. President, by passing resolutions, or indulging in pleasing fancies, that our object is to be attained ; but the mind must act upon matter, and give to it a practical application to the concerns of life. In the discussions of the Pacific Railroad, New Orleans, and even Louisiana, seem to have been forgotten. The important position which we occupy to the trade of the Valley of the Mississippi has been overlooked. When the At- lantic shall have been linked to the Pacific by a line of improve- ment, New Orleans must become one of the most importani rities of the world. When the trade of the Indies shall pour all its commerce along these lines, it must be in the lap of New Orleans that this rich traffic must be first poured — from its warehouses to be diffused through the broad Valley of the Mis- sissippi. Not only this, but the immense and constantly in- creasing productions of the North-western States will have to find a mart in some other land than Europe. Where is it to be, save in the Indies, and the constantly in- creasing traffic of the Gulf — where the song of liberty, freighted wit'i all of its happiness, shall go bounding " O'er the glad waters of the dark, blue wave, With hopes as boundless, and with thoughts as tree," until the islands of the Gulf shall echo tack the glad tidings? DEVELOPMENT OF SOUTHERN RESOURCES. 1.) There shall we find in those sunny lands a mart for our pro- ductions. When this shall be, and the Indies pour a.jng our lines of improvement their wealth, the United States will become what England now is — the storehouse of the world. And that this is no fanciful idea, it is only necessary to note the passing < -vents. Make these improvements, and your communication from Canton, by New Orleans and New York to London, will be made in forty-five days, while now the shortest time across the Isthmus of Suez is sixty-two days ; making so great a differ- ence in time that all mercantile men will understand that it must revolutionize that commerce. How is this mighty line of communication to be made ? Al- ready have we lines of railroads constructed, or in the process of construction, reaching from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. These are met by lines stretching far into the west, from New Orleans, Vicksburg, and other points. Give to these lines, if not your money, at least the support of your approbation. Do this, and the day is not distant when the whistle that wakes on the Atlantic will be heard on the shores of the Pacific. Let these lines be pressed forward to completion, and when they shall meet in the far west in fraternal embrace, then let the general government welcome them, and carry them to completion. Much has been said about the prejudices of the present, and the holy memories of the past. If you would remove the one and perpetuate the other, extend your lines of improvements so that the different sections may be brought into closer contact, and thus, by knowing each other better, learn to judge more charitably and more justly. If you would perpetuate the past, let your sons go to the plains of Lexington, and there read the heroism of the past ; let them stand on the cliffs of Yorktown, and look upon the waters that were lashed into a storm by the very finger of Heaven to protect our land, and there gather up the holy memories of the past, and feel their hearts to expand and their thoughts to be elevated to emulate the deeds of their fathers; and let, too, their sons visit our warm and sunny south, and while gazing upon the fields made memorable by southern valor and the heroism of a Jackson, feel in their hearts the enthusiasm that warms the southern bosom for this glorious Union. Thus let them gather up all their memories, and in lh<' high and noble resolves which they will prompt, let them " Snatch from the anhes of their sire* The embers of their former tiree, And leave their mhi* a hoiic, u fume, They, tOO, would lather die than whame." 4 50 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Influence of Lofty Thovghts and Noble Sentiments Albert Pike, There were noble and brave deeds done by woman during our war of independence, that have exercised a greater influ- ence on the destinies of the American people than all the legis- lation of a century. I have spoken elsewhere of Mrs. Motte, who supplied to Marion the arrows tipped with fire, wherewith to burn down her own property occupied by the enemy. Should war ever again call on the youth of South Carolina to rally to the support of the starry flag of our common country, that single act of devotion and heroism would exert more influence than all the legislation since the existence of our country com- menced. And a noble thought or high sentiment uttered here may be mightier for a century to come than all the legislation of the Union or the victories of Napoleon. Such words and thoughts are the noblest estate of the people among which they are uttered. There are single passages in the writings of Daniel Webster that will exercise more influence upon the youth of America than all the statutes of this Union. There are songs written by men whose names are now forgotten that are more to the American people than a regiment of bayonets. " Let him who will make the laws of a nation, if I may but make its songs," was well and truly said. The apparently trifling song of Lillibullero was the chief cause of the downfall of James II. How much influence do you imagine the songs of our own country are exerting ? Do you imagine that we should make a profitable bargain in case of a new war, by exchanging the song of Yankee Doodle for fifty thousand foreign soldiers led by a field marshal ? This is a kind of property you can not trade away with profit. You can not profitably part with your lofty thoughts and noble sentiments any more than we can profitably part with our own souls. This kind of property we can create in this convention. You can utter noble thoughts, you can erect imperishable monuments that shall live from age to age. It is the proudest object of the human mind to utter a thought that shall live through all coming time. Mr. President, if this convention and its three predeces- sors shall succeed in uttering one single thought that shall live through all time, it will have amply repaid the labor of its mem- bers, and have given them the happy assurance that they have done something for their country and their age. It has been said that a monument is the embodiment of a single loft)' sentiment REPRODUCTIVE IMMORTALITY OF LANGUAGE. 51 m marble. I would have this convention aid in building such a monument, not in marble, but in iron — an arm of iron extending across the continent and clutching the Pacific in its grasp ; and when that monument is built, that embodiment of the great idea of the ace, if some one standing near it while the commerce of the world goes rushing by him as on the wings of the wind, and after our bones have moldered into dust, should say with truth that to this convention now assembled in New Orleans that great work was in any degree owing, we should be amply repaid for all our labors in the cause of our country. Reproductive Immortality of Language. Rev. H. B. Bascom. Language never dies, and the perpetuity and multiplication of /bought, in the shape of philosophy, science, poetry, religion, and the arts, are not only coincident possibilities, but necessarily adjunctive conceptions and resulting developments. Where now are the temples and palaces, the catacombs and monuments, of antiquity ? And of those that do remain, how many are the chances and changes threatening their destruction ? An earth- quake might give the pyramids of the Nile or the grandeur of Rome to oblivion. The mere sacking of a city might annihilate the Apollo Belvedere or the Venus de' Medici ; but how many of earth's proudest dynasties have not thought and language sur- vived by thousands of years ! What revolutions of time, and events of various mundane in- terest, have not occurred since the first man and woman were expelled from the Eden of their innocence ! And yet the record lives. Homer is no more. Of his history we know but little, of his ashes nothing ; and yet, by means of language, he has indissolubly bound the world to the ihrone of his genius, through- out all generations. Accident threw Demosthenes upon the notice of the world, in the city of Minerva ; as interest or emer- gency required, for a few successive years, he threw the thunder of his unequaled eloquence upon the star lied ear of Greece, and then disappeared with the generation to which he belonged ; but by means of letters, Demosthenes shall continue the mode of the senate anVr the f the k'reat whole, and as small an atom as I may be, I am taugh.. to believe that every other atom in the universe is more or less tfected by my conduct. "No man liveth to himself," and in mi'- material sense, every man is his brother's keeper. "That golden chain" which binds us to the throne of God with a fell responsibility for all our actions, links us in indissoluble fraternity with the whole brotherhood of man. " If one ink drop on a solitary thoughl has stirred the minds of millions, or a brief human breath has disturbed the surrounding atmosphere, so as to com- municate itself to the entire system of the universe, how careful should we lie that the impulse we give be in the right direction ! "* I'vl a philanthropic Beer stood on the shores of Spain, when • Mm. HI({ourn»y. 56 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the frail jarks of Columbus set sail for the discovery of th* rwv world, and had foreseen the success which crowned that dubio'»s enterprise — the waking of the slumbering nations of Europe — the increase of the enterprise and commerce of the nations — the .immense wealth which rolled back on the old world — the civil- ization and Christianity which found their way to the new — especially had he marked one luminous spot on the eastern coast of North America, where he saw a mighty nation rise up like a p haros on the dark ocean of political despotism and religious intolerance, guiding all who would follow her light to freedom and toleration — had he seen this luminous spot spreading itself from sea to sea, and sending its messengers to all lands, and be- coming influential in all that concerns the entire race of man — with all this in the prophet's vision, how earnestly would he have gazed at the gallant barks as they plunged the untried wave, lifting up his prayer to God for a prosperous voyage, and giving any item of information that might be useful to the expedition ! Thus it is when I see youthful voyagers just about to be launched on what is to them the untried sea of active life. They may not be in search of a new world, but it is vastly important that they should escape the corruptions of the old. They may not plant new colonies, but they seek a better country. When 1 consider the preciousness of the freight which they bear, the ever- widening and deepening influence which their successful voyage will produce, I can not but feel a deep solicitude for their safety and success. Moral Independence. Popular sentiment marshals her forces, and endeavors to dnv<; the man of moral independence from his lofty position ; she frowns and threatens, smiles and flatters ; he hears the angry 8 lrges dashing around him, is fully conscious of his danger, an yet remains firm as the wave-beaten rock. Our peculiar con- dition as a people demands a host of such men, yet we fear the number among us is small. How many of our young men take counsel of their passions, their prejudices, their interests, or their ease, rather than follow the plain dictates of truth and virtue ' How many, even, who profess to love the right, will sometimes see principle trampled in the dust, and lie bleeding at every pore, and yet offer no hand of relief, no arm of defence, no voice of expostulation and reproof against the wrong-doer ! How many, even in official stations, are more solicitous to know how thev THE FIRST GUN OF FREEDOM. y) can please the people, and conciliate their favor, than how tfwy can instruct and improve them ! We want men as prompt, as firm, as valiant in defence o f the right and the true, as is the brave soldier on the field of battle He manfully meets the enemy face to face, brings to the conflie all his energies, and when he retreats, if retreat he must, befor superior skill or force, he carries with him the respect and th« admiration of both friends and foes. Who has not admired the pe.sonal courage, the independent spirit, and the resolute firm- ness of Napoleon's distinguished marshal, who commanded the rear guard of the grand army on its memorable retreat from Russia ? Having exhibited prodigies of valor, and endured .sard- ships almost unparalleled in the annals of war, he reached at •ength the River Niemen, which forms the boundary of the Rus- sian territory. Here his soldiers all deserted ; but by extraordi- nary exertions he succeeded in rallying thirty men, with whom, for a time, he kept the enemy at bay ; and when this small party abandoned the cause as desperate, he fought the enemy single handed. Slowly retreating through the streets of Wilna, witk his face to the foe, he crossed the bridge over the Niemen, and was the last of the army that left the Russian territory. Proceeding to the first town where food and rest could be obtained, he fell in with an officer of rank, an old companion in arms, by whom he was not at first recognized. " Who are you ? " s.iid the general. Mark his reply. " I am the rear guard of the grand army of France, Marshal Ney. I have fired the last mus- kel shot on the bridge of Kowno — I have thrown into the Niemen the last of our arms — and I have walked hither alone, as you see me, across the forest." What more could he have done ? And what a model is here presented for all who are engaged in the great moral conflict! Let our posts of influence, high and low be filled bv men of such unyielding purpose, such determined perseverance in resisting ibe enemies of virtue and truth, and let our children be early taught to contend thus earnestly against vice, without regard to personal consequences, and who could despair of the republic ? The First. Gun of Frert/om. — Evkhbtt, Oh the 19th of April the all-important blow was struck — the blow which severed the fated chain whose every link was bolted by an act of parliament, whose every rivet was closed up by an &g ROSS'S SPEAKER. ,»rde.* in council, which bound to the wake of Europe the brave bark of our youthful fortune, destined henceforth and forever to ••ide the waves alone — the blow which severed the fated chain was struck. The blow was struck which will be felt in its con- sequence to ourselves and the family of nations till the seventh seal is broken upon the apocalyptic volume of the history of empires. The consummation of four centuries was completed. The life-long hopes and heart-sick visions of Columbus, poorly fulfilled in the subjugation of the plumed tribes of a few tropical islands and the distant glimpse of a continent, cruelly mocked by the fetters placed upon his noble limbs by his own menial, and which he carried with him into his grave, are at length more than fulfilled, when the new world of his discovery put on the sovereign robes of her separate national existence, and joined the great Panathenaic procession of the nations. The wrongs of generations were redressed. The cup of humiliation drained to the dregs by the old Puritan confessors and non-conformist victims of oppression ; loathsome prisons ; blasted fortune ; lips forbidden to open in prayer ; earth and water denied in their pleasant native land ; the separations and sorrow of exile ; the sounding perils of the ocean ; the scented hedgerows and vocal thickets of the " old countrie " exchanged for the pathless wilderness ringing with the war whoop and gleaming with the scalping knife ; the secular insolence of colo- nial rule, checked by no periodical recurrence to the public will ; governors appointed on the other side of the globe that knew not Joseph ; the patronizing disdain of undelegated power ; the legal contumely of foreign law, wanting the first element of obligations, the consent of the governed expressed by his authorized repre- sentative ; and at length the last unutterable and burning affront and shame, a mercenary soldiery encamped upon the fair emi- nences of our cities ; ships of war with springs on their cables moored in front of our crowded quays ; artillery planted open- mouthed in our principal streets, at the doors of our houses of assembly, their morning and evening salvos proclaiming to the rising and setting sun that we are the subjects and they the lords, — all these phantoms of the long colonial night swept off by the first sharp volley on Lexington green. Well might Samuel Adams exclaim as he heard it, " O, what a glorious morning is this ! " Glorious, but as is too often the case with human glories, the germ and the fruit of sorrow, sanc- tified with tears and sealed with blood. Precious lives are to be sacrificed ; great trials, public and private, to be endured ; eight years of war are to desolate the land ; patriot armies are to march A PATRIOTIC HYMN 59 with bloody feet over ice-clad fields; a cloud of anxiety must hang over the prospects of one generation of the young, while another of the aged go down to the grave before the vision is fulfilled; but still glorious at home and abroad — glorious for America, and, strange as the word may sound, glorious for England. Lord Chatham rejoiced that America had resisted. Surely Lord Chatham never rejoiced in the shame of England ; he rejoiced :nat America had resisted, because she resisted on the great principles of constitutional liberty. Burke, in the early stages of the contest, spoke these golden words : " We view the h, t ablishment of the British colonies, on principles of liberty, as hat which is to render this kingdom venerable to future ages, i comparison of this, we regard all the victories and conquests .,f our warlike ancestors, or of our own times, as barbarous and vulgar distinctions, in which many nations, whom we look upon with little respect or value, have equaled if not exceeded us. This is the peculiar glory of England." A Patriotic Hymn. — Knickerbocker Magazine, New England mountains, Texian plains, Virginia slopes, Nebraska vales, One noble language breathes its strains Along the freedom of your gales ; One mighty heart pulsates beside The rolling of ) our every tide. One patriot glory spreadeth white Seraphic wings above your pas!, Ami rainbows in eternal light The costly blood which showered fast < 'n battle fields of ancient time, When love of country was a crime. 1 le;-.)ic memories strike their root Along your every hill and shore; \nil not a flower beneath the foot Bui bourgeons proudly (nun the gore 0' noble b w hicta calmly met The charging foeman's bayonet 60 ROSS'S SPEAKER. The ecnoes of old battles roll In thunder down your cataracts, And utter startlingly the soul Of glorious times and deathless acts : The changeless sun-bow waveth there Your stripes along its native air. A deathless rush of crimson rills Through spectral ranks runs steeply dow* New England's first of battle hills, By Freedom's sickle fiercely mown, And echoes, even to our veins, But faintly worthy of such strains. The ice upon the Delaware Still trembles 'neath unshodden feet, Which over-track its chilly glare With life blood oozing through the sleet «•• The footfalls of a race of men Whose like we shall not see again. The horn of Marion echoes clear Through Carolina's aged pines, Whose every dew-drop, like a tear, Is dashed aside by bannered vines, Which, faithless of the hero's fall, Still vibrate to his battle call. The vivid thought of Franklin beams In every lightning glare that flies Above our zone-traversing streams, Along our ocean-bounded skies, And bids us open reverent souls To truth's eternal thunder rolls. Mount Vernon bosoms in its sod That generation's noblest heart, Whom Greece had shrined a demi-god — A man without a counterpart ; The throbbings of that patriot breast Are echoed in our farthest west. Such heroes splendored not alone, But many more who nameless sleep INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER OF NATIONS. 61 Beneath the hasty funeral stone, Where Nature took them to her deep, Kind bosom, from the reeling strife Of breast to breast and knife to knife. God help us keep the sacred trust Our sires bequeathed us with our breath, Crush treason in its native dust, And struggle, faithful unto death, With fearless soul and tireless hand, For liberty and fatherland. Individual Character of Nations. — J. c. andbbws, Nations are neither accidental nor arbitrary divisions of men They exist by divine appointment, and are the product of natura. laws as truly as families. The distinction between the various races of men on the earth lies deep in the constitution of human nature itself, and can never be rooted out. It is not the division of countries by any geographical lines, any physical boundaries, — by mountains or rivers, or capes or seas, — that divides people. Fill up the British Channel and make it a plain, and would that make an Englishman a Frenchman ? Bridge over the Danube, and will that change an Austrian into a Turk ? These distinc- tions lie too deep to be blotted out by a mere change of place or clime. They are impressed upon the whole man — upon his mind, his heart, his body. Nations have a peculiar character as tru- ly as individuals ; and language, customs, manners, institutions, all proclaim the power of national life. The inspired record, that " God divided to the nations their inheritance," clearly re- veals his purpose that peoples should be preserved distinct, thai the peculiar characteristics of each might be fully developed, and thus all that is good and noble in humanity be brought to light. As in the family circle, th< re is manifested, in the highest degree, depth and disinterestedness of affection, purity and earnestness of love, so in the nation, we find corresponding Strength and fervor of patriotism, the spirit of devotion and self-sacrifice. The noblest virtues which can adom humanity are the natural Iruit of vigorous national life. Never lias there been a nation •.hat has distinguished itself by its lofty deeds, that has l,.-i-n the 62 ROSS'S SPEAKER. fruitful mother of great men, that has not cherishes in a high degree the sprit of nationality. Where was this spirit ever more intense than among the Hebrew nation — the chosen peo- ple ? What people was ever more strongly national than the Greeks, or labored more earnestly to develop the richness of the national mind ? And how brilliant is her history ! How full of illustrious names are her brief annals in the days of her pros- perity and pow^r ' Thus was it with Rome, and thus has it been with every nation that has exerted any important influence upon the destinies of the world. They have all labored, not to extinguish or suppress, but to awaken, and preserve, and strengthen a national spirit, and to cultivate to its highest perfection the national genius. " Lives there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? " Let men talk as they will about the attraction and beauties of cosmopolitanism and universal brotherhood, that man whose heart goes not out with peculiar strength of affection toward the land that gave him birth, — toward the grounds he trod in child- hood, the old roof tree, — who loves not to go back and revise the early scenes, and " Awaken the echoes that start When memory plays an old tune on the heart," — is devoid of the noblest sensibilities of our nature. Patriotism to him is a word without meaning, and love of country a senti- ment alien to his soul. A New Continent. — anon. The coral reefs of the Pacific Ocean have been in part meas- ured, and are found to be of amazing extent, and a new conti- nent is in process of formation. All the labor is accomplished by zoophytes — insects ; and if we wish to form some conception of their doings, we have but to remember that the coral formations of the Pacific occupy an area of four or five thousand miles, and to imagine what a picture the ocean would present were it suddenly drained. We should walk amid huge mounds which had been cased and capped with the stone these animals had se- creted. Prodigious cones would rise from the ground, all tower- ing to the same altitude, reflecting the light of the sun from their white summits with dazzling intensity. Here and there wa should see a huge platform, once a large island, whose peaks as thej THE CORAL GROVE. 63 sank weie clothed in coral, and then prolonged jpward untv they rose before us like the columns of some huge temple whici. had been commenced by the Anadins of an antediluvian world Champollion has said of the Egyptian edifices, that they seem to have been designed by men fifty feet high. Here, wandering among these strange monuments, we might fancy that beings one hundred yards in stature had been planting the pillars of some colossal city they had never lived to complete. The build- ers were worms, and the quarry, whence they dug their masonry, the crystal wave. In the event of this vast extent of coral reef being upheaved, where or whence will the waters of the Pacific recede ? Either the western shores of the American continent, and away to the Rocky Mountains, will be submerged, or the shores of opposite Asia — for innumerable ages the cradle of man's development and civilization — will sink into the great abyss ; rmd the ships of the inhabitants of this globe, when it adds ten thousand years to its age, will sail over and find no soundings where millions to-day toil in unresisting servitude, and where cities fnm gorgeous cupolas and storied palaces fling back the rays of the rising and the declining sun. The Coral Grove. — Pbboival. Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove, Where the seaflower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, Rut in bright and changeful beauty shine, Fai down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pear] shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea plants lift Their boughs where des and billows flow The water is calm and still below, For the winds and wavi are absenl there, And the sands are brighl as the stars thai glow In the motionless field i of upper air ; There, with its waving blade of green, The seaflag streams through the silenl water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter; g4 ROSS'S SPEAKER. There, with a light and easy motion, The fan coral sweeps through the clear deep sea, And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the waves his own ; And when the ship from his fury flies, When the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore, — Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and goldfish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. Life. — Heber. Life bears us on like the current of a mighty river. Ou; boat, at first, glides down the narrow channel, through ihe play- ful murmurings of the little brook, and the windings of its grassy border. The trees shed their blossoms over our young head- trie flowers on the brink seem to offer themselves to our hands , we are happy in hope, and we grasp eagerly at the beauties around us ; but the stream hurries us on, and still our hands are ^mpty. Our course in youth and manhood is along a wider and deeper flood, and amid objects more striking and magnificent. We are animated by the moving picture of enjoyment and industry which passes before us ; we are excited by some short-lived suc- cess, or depressed and made miserable by some equally short- lived disappointment. But our energy and our dependence are both in vain. The stream bears us on, and our joys and our griefs are alike left behind us ; we may be shipwrecked, but we can not anchor ; our voyage may be hastened, but it can not be delayed ; whether rough or smooth, the river hastens toward its home, till the roaring of the ocean is in our ears, and the tossing of the waves is beneath our keel, and + he land lessens from our eyes and the floods are lifted up around us, and we take our last leav of the earth and its inhabitants ; and of our farther voyaga there is no witness but the Infinite p.nd Eternal. BEYOND THE RIVER. £ Beyond the River. — Nbw Obxbaws Cuou Time is a river deep and wide ; And while along its banks we stray, We see our loved ones o'er its tide Sail from our sight, away, away. Where are they sped — they who return No more to glad our longing eyes ? They've passed from life's contracted bourn, To land unseen, unknown, that lies Beyond the river. 'Tis hid from view ; but we may guess How beautiful that realm must be ; For gleamings of its loveliness, In visions granted, oft we see. The very clouds, that o'er it throw Their veil, unraised for mortal sight, With gold and purple timings glow, Reflected from the glorious light Beyond the river. And gentle airs, so sweet, so calm, Steal sometimes from that viewless sphere ; The mourner feels their breath of balm, And soothed sorrow dries the tear. And sometimes listening ear may gain Entrancing sound that hither floats — The echo of a distant strain Of harps' and voices' blended notes, Beyond the river. There are our loved ones in their rest ; They've crossed Time's River ; now no more They heed the bubbles on its breast, Nor feel the storms thai sweep its shore. But there pure love can live, can last; They look for us their home to share. When we in turn away have passed, What joyful greetings wait us there, Beyond i lie river 66 ROSb'S SPEAKER. A Valedictory Address.— Putnam. We thank you, friends, who have come hither, on this occa sion, to encourage and cheer us with your presence. We thank you, who have gone so far and learned so much, on your journey of life, that you so kindly look back and smile upon us just set- ting out on our pilgrimage. We thank you, who have climbed so high up the Hill of Science, that you condescend to pause a moment in your course, and bestow a cheering, animating glance on us, who, almost invisible in the distance, are toiling over the roughness of the first ascent. May you go on your way in peace, your path, like the sun, waxing brighter and brighter till the perfect day ; and may the light of your example long linger in blessings on those of us who shall survive to take your places in the broad and busy world. We thank you, respected instructors, for your paternal care, your faithful counsels, and affectionate instructions. You have opened before us those ways of wisdom which are full of pleas- antness and peace. You have warned us of danger, when dan- gers beset our path ; you have removed obstacles, when obstacles impeded our progress ; you have corrected us when in error, and cheered us when discouraged. You have told us of the bright rewards of knowledge and virtue, and of the fearful recompense of ignorance and vice. In the name of my companions, I thank you — warmly, sincerely thank you for it all. Our lips can not express the gratitude that glows within our hearts ; but we will endeavor, with the blessing of Heaven, to testify it in our future lives, by dedicating all that we are, and all that we may attain, to the promotion of virtue and the good of mankind. And now, beloved companions, I turn to you. Long and happy has been our connection as members of this school : but with this day it must close forever. No longer shall we sit in these seats to listen to the voice that wooes us to be wise ; no more shall we sport together on the noisy green, or wander in the silent grove. Other scenes, other society, other pursuits await us. We must part ; but parting shall only draw closer the ties that bind us. The setting sun and the evening star, which have so often witnessed our social intimacies and joys, shall still remind us of the scenes that are past. While we live on the earth may we cherish a grateful remembrance of each other; and O, in heaven may our friendship be purified and perpetuated. And now to old and young, to patrons and friends to instructors and each other, we tender our reluctant and affectionate farewell ' MERCY. — COLLEGIATE EDUCATION. 67 Mercy. — Shakbpbarb. The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crowji : His scepter shows the force of temporal "power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the fear and dread of kings : But mercy is above the sceptered sway ; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute of God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice ; therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this — That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy : I have spoke thus much ^o mitigate the justice of thy plea. Collegiate Education. — c. Rosbuot, The question has been sneeringly asked, Of what practice! benefit is the knowledge of Greek and Latin, and the higher branches of mathematics, to those who do not intend to enter the learned professions? Persons who propound such questions seem to have lost sighl of the fact, thai the great and paramount object of education is, the development and strengthening of the powers of the mind, and thai thai important end can only he attained by exercising and disciplining the mental faculties. Now, every one who lias bestowed the least consideration on .he tubjeel musl know that nothing is better calculated to fix the attention, and to induce thoughl ami reflection, than the study of the dead languages and the mathematics. Indeed, it is obvi- ous that not oik' step can he taken in these studies without bringing nearly all the mental powers into active operation. It is therefore manifest, that, without insisting, tor the present, at all on the manifold other advantages resulting from a proficiency in o'ossic literature:, ami the' mathematical and natural sciences 68 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the sividy of these branches of knowledge is, at any rate, of in. calculable benefit as the means of accomplishing the great end of education — the improvement of the mind. It is said that Wisdom does not speak to her followers in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew only, but that she teaches her sublime les- sons in the pages of Shakspeare, Milton, Jeremy Taylor, and a brilliant constellation of other authors, who have all written in our own nervous vernacular. This is true. But let me ask, What class of readers nourish their minds with the strong, healthy, and invigorating food set before them by these writers ? Cer- tainly not those whose taste has been cloyed, and whose powers of digestion have been enfeebled, if not entirely destroyed, by feeding on the pap and sweetmeats of most of the popular authors of the day. Not one reader in a thousand who pores with delight over the glittering inanities of Bulwer, or the vapid sentimentalities of James, will ever venture to read a hundred lines of the Paradise Lost, or a single scene of Hamlet. There is a craving and insatiable appetite for novelty, which is constantly increased by the trash it feeds on. How can this mental mal- ady be cured, unless it be by forming the taste and judgment of ine youthful student by a careful study and contemplation of the great models of antiquity ? In them alone do we find that wonderful artistic perfection which the moderns have attempted to imitate in vain. Homer as a poet, Demosthenes as an orator, and Thucydides as an historian, still stand, each in his own department, in solitary grandeur, unrivaled and unapproachable. " The poems of Homer," says Dr. Johnson, " we yet know not to transcend the common limits of human intelligence, but by remarking that nation after nation, and century after century, has been able to do little more than transpose his incidents, new name his characters, and paraphrase his sentiments. 1 ' Reference is frequently made, by those who take the opposite view of this subject, to instances of what are called self-made men, for the purpose of proving that a liberal education is not an essential requisite for the attainment of intellectual distinc- tion. We are told that the Bard of Avon " had little Latin, and less Greek ; " that Robert Burns was a peasant ; that Pope was the best Greek scholar of his age, and has translated the sublime poetiy of Homer into English, with all the vigor and freshness of the original ; yet he never was inside of a college. All this is true; and other examples might be added to the list. But, allow me to ask, what does this prove against the correctness of the propositions which we have been endeavoring to establish? '•/here are exceptions to all general rules, and one of the most THE LOST SHIP. 6£ familiar maxims of logic is, that the exception proves the rule Now that we meet occasionally with a mind so happil organ ized, and endowed with such a degree of energy and wi 1, as to grapple successfully with the disadvantages of a neglected or stinted education, and " climb the steep where Fame's proud emple shines afar," does surely not prove any thing agains tho enefits and necessity of collegiate instruction and discipli v Besides, who ?nn tell, except those that have gone through the ordeal, by what privation, labor, and application such persons have been enabled to travel over the rugged paths to knowledge, and thereby provide something like a substitute for early and regular training J And how many have ever been successful in the attempt ? Not one in ten thousand. The Lost Ship. — Misa Ma_ey Ann Lbs. The moon's fair beams, with silver hue, Had faintly tinged the waters blue, When o'er the ocean, lone and vast, A stately ship came gliding past, 'jlad hearts she bore above the wave, That soon might be each sailor's grave ; But nought of danger, death, or wrecK Thought the gay crowd that thronged her deck. In her were gathered Indies fair, And aged men with silver hair, Youth in whose veins the blood beat high, And merrv childhood's laughing eye. The pilgrim to his home she bore, The wanderer to his native shore. The hopes of all were lair and bright, The hearts of all beal gay and light. And when at length they sank to rest, Bright dreams of home their pillows blessed. Bui oil;' e morning brings ; High o'er the prow the dark wave springs; The threatening winds blow loud and high, As through the darken m ihoy fl v. All day they fled befon i I \xa< ; Their rich freight to the waves ,,iey ca«t ROSS 1 ?? SPEAKER Gone from each lip the smile and jest, The lightsome spirit from each breast Again Night her black curtain drew Above the ocean dark ; Loud and more loud the tempest grew Around the gallant bark. Her sails are rent by the fierce blast, The lightning's flame hath singed her mast, The billows dash against her prow : No power on earth can save her now. His eye, aione, who raised that gloom, Saw the sad vessel meet her doom. But when the morning's golden light Had chased the shadows of the night, AH calm and quiet smiled the scene Wnere late that sinking ship had been. And lightly danced the treacherous wave Above the lovely and the brave. Tell me, ye Winged Winds. — Chables M&e, And a voice sweet, but sad, responded, " Nu T Tell me, my secret soul, O, tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place From sorrow, sin, and death ? Is there no happy spot, Where mortals may be blessed, Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest ? Faith, Hope, and Love — best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whispered, " Yes, in heaven ! ' Effects of Ignorance among the Masses. C. Roselius, What are the amusements of the ignorant ? They must necessarily consist, and be limited, in a great measure, to the gratification of the sensual appetites, the inevitable conscquei of an abuse of which are a debilitated body and a depraved he .\<-arly all the avenues to the higher enjoyments of the soul are closed nji i<> 'he ignorant , they look with a vacant stare al the wonderful and beautiful works of an all-wise Creator; their cannot understandingly behold the admirable harmony of nature ; nay, th< ngs vouchsafed to man — the inestimable c on — can not be enjoyed and ap the same extent as those whose mental ceptions have heen awa- kened and shar . nd religious training. \- yet we hear inti alk of the danger of over-edu 72 ilOSS'S SPEAKER. eating the people. Let me ask, What would become of our lib- erty, our aJm ,Tr .ble system of government, and our glorious Union, if it was not for the education and intelligence of the people ? Destroy these, and the beautiful fabric will crumble into dust, and like " an insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind." Look at the pages of history ; and by whose in- strumentality has human freedom been invariably crushed, and despotism and oppression established in its place ? By the igno- rant masses of the people, led on by designing and unscrupulous demigogues. Take, as an illustration of this position, the last French revolu- tion, or, as it is called, the coup diktat * of Louis Napoleon Bona- parte. Here we see* the president of a republic, elected by his fellow-citizens, sworn to iupport that constitution from which alone he derived his power, deliberately commit perjury, murder, and treason, and thereby constitute himself the master of the very people whose servant he had been ; and the stupid populace shout, and assist in riveting the chains by which they are en- slaved. Would any president of the United States, however daring and ambitious he might be, ever dream of such an act of usurpation, even if he had an army of five hundred thousand soldiers at his command ? Certainly not ; for he would know that the majority of the people who had elevated him to the high- est office in their gift are too well educated and too intelligent to be made tools of in his hands for the destruction of their own freedom ; that, understanding and appreciating their liberty, the first act of usurpation would be visited by the most condign pun- ishment, not by the assassin's dagger, but by the awful decree of the violated majesty of the law. A Plea for the Union . — 0. P. Baldwin , I know, fellow-citizens, that the hour is dark ; that sectional passions are aroused ; and that the future seems pregnant with disastrous results. But let us not even permit ourselves to dream of such an event as the dissolution of the Union. Fraternal love, forbearance, reason can save it, when even wisdom and elo- quence would be of no avail. Let the eyes of each section be no longer blind to the virtues and open to the faults of others. The Frenchman may rise against his government, the Hungari- an may seek 10 tnrow off the thralldom of Austria, the Polander * Pi»iiouuced coodartah. A PLEA FOlt THE UNION. 73 may struggle to regain his nationality; but if we permit this Union to perish until every constitutional and fraternal remedy has been exhausted, we shall present the first example in the world's history of a people who were rebels against themselves: who were satiated with the sweets of liberty, sick of peace, and wearied with prosperity. Never have a people been blessed with such blessings as we have enjoyed under this Union ; never have a people been cursed with such curses as will follow its •Union. Surely it cannot be that all our endowments of civi! and religious liberty, of peace and plenty, are to be sacrificed by the madness of a few men who make war alike upon the Bible and the constitution, and who would involve in the same ruin the shrine of religion and the ark of liberty. Surely it cannot be that, as Europe is slowly advancing in na- tional freedom by the light of our example, we should with our own hands extinguish the beacon fire which guides a world on its weary way. Did your footsteps ever wander in a foreign land ? Doubtless many a grand and impressive object you there beheld hallowed by the moss of antiquity, and wreathed with a thousand beautiful associations. Beneath the solemn shades of Westminster Abbey, on the immortal field of Waterloo, at the foot of St. Peter's massive pile, upon the plains of Marathon, you have bowed your head in veneration of genius, learning, piety, and valor. You have beheld many a gorgeous spectacle of wealth and greatness, of power and pomp; but tell me, among them all, did you ever behold a sighi that so stirred the deep foundations of your heart, and senl t! I boiling with proud emotion through every vein, as when, upon some lonely sea, you met one of your national vessels, the stars and stripes of your country flowing freely out over the frowning battery and the mountain wave An I shall the time ever arrive when you musl travel through the v> ;Hd and meet no more thai flag: when neither on sea nor shore shall it-. " n, Icrer's <■■■, e r when the American shall pass through Ihe world worse than an orphan — a man withoul a countr) ? Musi I ever be condemned to that the national structure in which I dwell is not the one which built by the ap reedom, -r.!<\ cemented martyrs? not the one of which Washinj laid ' 'id of which .1' and Madison were am'. e which was .llumed b\ wisdom thunder <>f a I (enry's < lo- quenc< ' 'd upon the .yfounl Zion of our America learning through clo ida 74 ftOSS'S SPEAKER. of patriotic incense and the heaven-enkindled air of freedom burning forever upon its shrine ? No, not this temple, but some humbler edifice, without an altar or a priest, like thai in whjou the disconsolate Jew mourns his lost Jerusalem, and hanging his harp upon the willow, exclaims, " How can I sing the Lord's song in a strange land"? And must I not only give up my portion in the (lag and history of my country, but must I yield my inter- ests in any of the consecrated spots of this loved republic ? Must I stand on Bunker Hill and Lexington, and be known as a foreigner ? Must the man of the north press the sod of Mount Vernon, and mournfully exclaim, " This is no longer my coun- try"? Must the world relinquish its only rallying ground of f"ee principles ? A voice rises from the oppressed millions of Europe — Take not away from us our only city of refuge ! From dungeon vaults, and from the ashes of holy martyrs, comes a cry — De- stroy not the home of religious liberty ! From the ruins of an- cient republics melancholy notes of warning float on every breeze. From the battlements of heaven, the spirits of our fathers bend in solicitude, and mourn — if grief can enter heaven — that they have 00 human tongue to arrest our mad career. My Lord Tomnoddy. — London Diogenes. My Lord Tomnoddy's the son of an earl ; His hair is straight, but his whiskers curl ; His lordship's forehead is far from wide, But there's plenty of room for the brains inside. He writes his name with indifferent ease ; He is rather uncertain about the " d's ; " But what does it matter, if two, or one, To the Earl of Fitzdotterel's eldest son ? My Lord Tomnoddy to college went ; Much time he lost, much money he spent ; Rules, and windows, and heads he broke ; Authorities winked — young men will joke; He never peeped inside of a book; In two years' time a degree he took ; \nd the newspapers vaunted the honors won 'iy the Earl of Fitzdotterel's eldest son. MILITARY EDUCATION IN CIVIL INSTITUTIONS *r$ My Lord Tomnoddy must settle, down , There's a vacant scat in the family town ; (It's time he should sow his eccentric oats ;) He hasn't the wit to apply for votes , He can not e'en learn his election speech ; Three phrases he speaks — a mistake in each ! And then breaks down ; but the borough is won For the Earl of Fitzdotterel's eldest son. My Lord Tomnoddy prefers the Guards, (The House is a bore,) so it's on the cards ! My lord is a cornet at twenty-three, A major at twenty-six is he — He never drew sword, except on drill ; The tricks of parade he has learned but ill : A lieutenant colonel at thirty-one Is the Earl of Fitzdotterel's eldest son. My Lord Tomnoddy is thirty-four ; The earl can last but a few years more. My lord in the peers will take his place ; Her majesty's councils his words will grace. Office he'll hold, and patronage sway; Fortunes anil lives he will vote away; And what are his qualifications ? One — He's the Earl of Fitzdotterel's eldest son. Military Education in Civil Institutions. C. G. Fohshet, Pres.of Texas Milit "le, Tin-: citizen soldier is the guardian of the republic. Freemen need no other standing army. While monarchies are sustained by li'in i rhose lives arc passed in idleness or in blood, the n soldier devotes his years to industry and cul . to domestic happ ind to public enterprise. Public education should therefore be conducted under military dis- cipline, youth will ■■■■ . with pleasure and ■ ness, manhood y leam at all. Ami while youthful fervor and zesl o s, lei the citizen soldier have ' ; s training. Mo one can fail to npprove the influence of military training 76 KOSS'S SJfEAKER. L.pon nanners and movements. There :z something in the mere salutation of the military man or youth that every one who wit- nesses approves. His bearing is open, frank, and manly ; his movement dignified and graceful. Bashfulness and diffidence never betray awkwardness ; for a well-drilled soldier can not be awkward, however much embarrassed and confused. Give us military discipline, then, for the education of youth, if it have no furthei object than to aid in developing manliness of character. Bui i; effects, with certainty, what is so often neglected — the development of the physical powers in harmony with the in- tellectual. How often have we seen, from the neglect of physical train- .ng, the student, who has mastered knowledge by years of study and splendid intellectual achievement, just as he is ready to enter upon the business of life, and apply his talents and learning to useful purposes, find his physical frame exhausted, and after a few vain struggles to restore the balance, — too long and fatally neglected, — bow down to the relentless destroyer, Death. His- tory is full of examples. We all have, at times, been called upon to grieve the untimely ioss of such. But tears come too late, alas ! for those that are gone. Let us provide a better edu- cation for those who remain. And, on the other hand, contemplate the mind that has lain dormant in a body trained to physical force and endurance till the will and the passions have grown strong and unmanagea- ble, till the animal instincts have spread their branches, in dark and poisonous umbrage, all over the character ; till the strong roots and vines of prejudice and superstition have lashed fast the slumbering soul, and blight and mildew have dimmed and blurred its capacities to spring up and see the light. In spite of all his physical prowess, our very Hercules is but an animal, the compeer of horses and beasts of burden ; and at highest, gladiator for the Roman arena, the antagonist of tigers, the con- queror of a lion in a single combat. No training could redeem such a soul ; no fascinations of art or science, no allurements of intellectual bliss, or flowers of poesy, or harmonies of nature, could reclaim it to a life of men- tal joys — the only joys, outside religion, worthy the attention of a human mind. I shall not say that religion can not reach it; for religion has the capacity to grapple with our instincts. It -esides in and appertains to the department of the sentiments, in human character ; and God, it seems, for purposes wiser than man can deem, adapted it to reach the humblest and the most degraded character. It goes where education, properly speak- NO GEOGRAPHICAL PARTY. 7T tng, can not reach, and awakens and illumines with a hope of heaven the soul to which intellectual education has no possible access. Equally repulsive are these two pictures ; and to the educator i>f true manhood, freedom-loving and freedom-sustaining man- hood, alike impracticable and irreclaimable. Can we not avoid xtremes? must we not? Let us begin in youth. Lei us begin to educate with a proper balance of mental and physical discipline Not merely to instill the grammars, geogra- s, and arithmetics of language, though these have their proper place ; not merely to teach a development of limb and muscle in the physical system — and this itself is very unusual in schools; but let us commence, from ten or twelve years old, to treat the mind with ideas of manly republican responsibility, to fill it with a love of liberty and independence, with a knowledge of our country's history and its institutions, to impress upon it an ap- preciation of the high duties that await the rising man. And, moreover, that the mind may have an expansion and liberality of thought, and true apprehension of the great laws of nature, let it be taught, from this moment forward, that nature works by great, uniform, harmonious laws, and that man may take for his model those laws, when he reasons or legislates for human rights. Besides the ordinary course of letters, which arc essen- tial to respectability and usefulness, let these things be taught from boyhood, and the mind will have a manly and republican culture. No Geographical Part//. [From the letter of Ftufu9 Choate to the Whigs of Boston, by whom he ra« elected a 3tate Convention, We eleel presidents, governors, and members of Congress, -.1 deliver written lectures to assenting audiences of laaies and ihe of pract manshi] ihe i " ; ''' political sj at< m, and the I world. Let us, at least, then know their politic lv . we do kn iw that pari • 'Hi is, i of all vphical party. What argument aj i in we ad I to this is to be made « hcii V >s D * 78 ROSS'S SPEAKER. necessary. If it is not necessary, it is, like war too, a trem^ndouf and uncompensated evil. When it shall have become necessary, the eternal separation will have begun. That time, that end, is not yet. Let us not hasten, and not anticipate it, by so rash an innovation as this. Parties in this country heretofore have helped, not delayed, the slow and difficult growth of a consummated nationality. Our discussions have been sharp ; the contests for honor and power keen ; the disputes about principles and measures hot and pro- longed. But it was in our country's majestic presence that we contended. It was from her hand that we solicited the prize. Whoever lost or won, we loved her better. Our allies were every where. There were no Alleghanies nor Mississippi Rivers in our politics. Such was the felicity of our condition, that the very dissen- sions which rent small republics in twain welded and compacted the vast fabric of our own. Does he who would substitute for this form of conducting our civil differences a geographical party, completely understand his own work ? Does he consider how vast an educational instrumentality the party life and influence compose ? Does he forget how the public opinion of a people is created, and that when created it determines their history? All party organization tends towards faction. This is its evil. But it is inseparable from free government. To choose his political connection aright is the most delicate and difficult duty of the citizen. We have made our choice, and we abide by it. We join ourselves to no party that does not carry the flag and keep step to the music of the Union. Shall our Laurels wither? — A. P. Harcourt, From France and England America can expect nothing. Should our internal commotions and sectional animosities once carry our nation to the verge of disunion and certain destruction, we can look for no conciliatory interference on the part of these craft) powers. We are now already disunited in sentiment ; and the harmony and brotherly feeling, that were wont to prevail, no !■ nger manifest themselves, as of yore, in a love of our great and flourishing republic — in a determination to stand by the Union and our star-lit banner, when invaded and attacked by traitors •'mm within and foes from without; oui hearts have grown cold, a cloud is on our brow, and we are not prepared for the corning storm. THE SOXU OF STEAM. 79 Already has the war whoop been raised by the crowned heads of Europe, and the cry has gone forth, that the great luminary of the western world is on the wane ; that he. light in the political heavens is beginning to grow dim; that soon she will sink into eternal gloom, never, never to rise again. Shall it be ? Shall the eagle be stopped in his lofty flight ? Proud bird ! shall they tear from thee thy plumage ? Shall they piuck from thee that quill that is to record on the scroll of time great America's fall f Shall our laurels wither ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! Forbid that the flag of a Warren, the martyr, — of a Wash- ington, the hero, the sage, the patriot, — that the flag which first ed to the breeze from the heights of Bunker's Hill, and which afterward streamed aloft from over Independence Hall, and which now waves over twenty millions of people, the lights of the habitable globe, — forbid that it should ever be lowered to a foreign foe ; but if it must be lowered, if it must be struck, at God forbid that it should be by a parricidal hand ; rather lei it be by some Philip — ay, a Xerxes with his million of men ; but ere, then, it shall fall, Americans ! — yes, you Kontuckians ! — let us gather around the venerable staff, and as each raises his right hand to heaven, and clasps the llowing folds with his left, let us swear our laurels shall never wither. The Song of Steam. — American oroak. Harness me down with your iron bands ; Be sure of your curb and rein ; For I scorn the power of your puny bauds, As the tempesl scorns a chain. How 1 laughed, as 1 lay concealed from sight For many a countless hour, At the childish boast of human might, And the j.nde of human power ! When | aaw an annv upon the land, A navy upon the seas, Creeping along, a snail-like hand, < )i waiting the wayward breeze ; When I marked the pi at inl faintl) re With the toil which he daily hore, As he feebly turned the tardy wheel, Or tugged at the weary oar; — g(| ROSS'S SPEAKER. When I measured the panting courser's speed, The flight of the courier dove, As they bore the law a king decreed, Or the lines of impatient love, — I could not but think how the world would feel. As these were outstripped afar, When I should be bound to the rushing keel, Or chained to the flying car. Ha, ha, ha ! they found me at last ; They invited me forth at length ; And I rushed to my throne with a thunder blast. And laughed in my iron strength. 0, then ye saw a wondrous change On the earth and the ocean wide, Where now my fiery armies range, Nor wait for wind or tide. Hurrah ! hurrah ! the waters o'er, The mountains steep decline ; Time, space, have yielded to my power ; The world, the world is mine ; The rivers the sun hath earliest blessed, Or those where his beams decline ; The giant streams of the queenly west, Or the orient floods divine. The ocean pales, where'er I sweep, To hear my strength rejoice, And the monsters of the briny deep Cower, trembling, at my voice. [ carry the wealth and the lord of the earth, The thoughts of his godlike mind ; The wind lags after my flying breath, The lightning is left behind. In the darksome depths of the fathomless mine My tireless arm doth play, Where the rocks never saw the sun decline, Or the dawn of the glorious day. I bring earth's glittering jewels up From the hidden cave below, And I make the fountain's granite cup With a crystal gush o'erflow. INDEPENDENCE MONUMENT. 81 I blow the jellows, I forge the steel, In all the shops of trade; I hammer the ore and turn the wheel, Where my arms of strength are made ; ( manage the furnace, the mill, the mint; 1 carry, I spin, I weave ; And all my doings I put into print, On every morn and eve. I've no muscle to weary, no breast to decay, Xo bone to be " laid on the shelf," And soon 1 intend you may " go and play," While I manage this world myself. But harness me down with your iron bands ; Be sure of your curb and rein ; For I scorn the strength of your puny hands, As the tempest scorns a chain. Independence Monument. — Kenneth Rather. ' >n the bill to " aid in the erection of a monument commemorative of :he declaration of American independence," in the Senate of North ( 'arolina, The erection of this monument in Independence Square will strengthen and confirm in the minds of our people the consecra- tion of a spot already hallowed in the hearts and affections of every lover of liberty in this land. Every one of those moral and intellectual giant-, who there presided over our nation's birth, is *_ r - m ic* to the spirit land. But their names and their mem- "d as time rolls on, the mythic legends of a distant future will associate their self-sacrificing achievements, theii . and their crowning triumph, with the idea of inspiration an 1 of aid from on high. The golden fruits of that atiful harvest, 'he seeds of which were sown by their hands, ire now reaping. The extension of our country's limits; the rapid pr< iur civilization, our freedom, our religion, and our laws; the triumphs of our arms; the advancement ol commerce; our wonderful improvements in literature, in a and in indu enterprise; in fact, the teeming wealth, and luxury, and comfort of our hound 1 ' • ources, and the number- ess blessings with which kind Heaven has favored us, — for the S*2 KOSS S SPEAKER. germ and development of all these revolutionary benefactors, who appealed to Heaven for the rectitude of their intentions, uttered the " declaration," Let this nation be free ; and lo, it was free ! Sir, can we, their posterity, feel gratitude warm enough to requite the boon they bequeathed us ? Can we speak in lan- guage glowing enough to duly sound their praise ? Can we build monuments high enough to tell the story of their deeds ? But what we can do let us do. Let us, in conjunction with our sister states of the Old Thirteen, — whose classic soil was bedewci 1 with the blood of the martyrs of freedom, and in whose soil now rest their nallowed remains, — let us erect this monument on the site of our political Bethlehem, from whence were first heralded the glad tidings of our national salvation, from whence first went forth the warning to tyrants, and the assurance to the op- pressed of the nations, that liberty was man's right, and to assert it was his duty. There let it stand till time shall be no more. In its massive strength, let it be emblematic of the hardy vigor and unterrified determination of those whose names may be inscribed on its shaft. Let its peerless beauty reflect the purity of their motives and the devotion of their hearts. Let its heaven- ward pointed summit represent the lofty aspirations of their souls, and suggest to the beholder the place of their reward and final rest. The Same, concluded. The moral influence of such a structure, reared by the joint and voluntary contributions of the Old Thirteen, can not fail to exercise a moral influence potent for good, after we shall be no more. It will symbolize the union of these states, will present a physical illustration of our national motto, " E Pluribus Unum," and stand as a warning to disunionists and agitators, that the fab- ric of our Union, elaborated from the wisdom of revolutionary sages, and cemented by the blood of revolutionary heroes, shah never fall a victim to their parricidal hands. It will be an object of pilgrimage for the lovers of liberty and union in our country through all future time, keeping alive in the hearts of our people the glorious associations of our past history, and fostering the impulses :>f patriotism, when they shall begin to wane. It will tend to inspire with patriotic sentiments the youth of our country ; to admonish them of the price at which our national freedom was purchased ; to excite an emulation in deeds of high and noblo THE WILL. 83 daring, and at the same time to sanctify the'u* ambition : and to teach them the glorious rewards which a grateful posterity ia w i.ing to bestow upon deeds of disinterested self-sacrifice and devotion by the benefactors of their country. Sir, my humble task is done. I appeal to this Senate, as the representatives and guardians of North Carolina's pride, her honor and her patriotism, not to let our state be the last to concur in this praiseworthy movement. Above all, let it never be said of us, that we are so deficient in patriotic pride, so insensible to the memory of the past, as to refuse to concur in this -;ea.r:-stirring design. What must be the feeling of every true-hearted son of the old North State, who may in the future visit Philadelphia, and from curiosity, if from no higher impulse, he shall visit this mon- ument ; he there sees the names of every other of the old thirteen states inscribed in letters of glory on its sides, with the names of those who echoed their appeal to the God of battle, in the immortal Declaration of Independence ; but he shall search in vain for the name of this state, who sent her Nashes and Cas wells, her Davies and Polks, her Grahams and Davidsons, to lead the hosts of freedom in our struggles for independence — and the names of Hooper, Hughes, and Penn, who spoke her senti- ments in the days of peril, will fail to greet his vision. God forbid such a reproach as this should rest on the name of that state which I love so well. The Will. — A Dialogue.— a*oh. Character*. — Swipes, a brewer , Currie, a saddler ; Fraick Millinotoic, and 'Squire Drawl. Swipes. A sober occasion, this, brother Currie. Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end ? Currie. Ah, we must all die, brother Swipes ; and ihose who liv*» longest outlive the most. Swipes. True, true ; but since we must die and leave nur earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed ? Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. 'Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the will aloud, and never :;igncd her name better Snipes. Had you any hint from the 'Squire, what disposTor the made of her property ? Cut. Not a vhisu'-T ; the 'Squire is as close as an under- 84 KOSS'8 SPEAKER. ground tomb : but one of the witnesses hinted to me that she had cut off her graceless nephew Frank without a shilling. Swipes. Has she, good soul. — has she ? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife. Cur. And I in my own right ; and this is no doubt the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. 'Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer barrels. But here comes the young repro- bate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know (Enter Frank Millington.) Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has left you, at last. Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington. Frank. It is so, sir ; but I could bear her loss better, had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value. Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread. Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better people arc obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's boy, if you were not too old. Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein. Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly as I shall mine sub- missively. I shall retire. (Going, he meets 'Squire Drawl.) 'Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your pres- ence. Good morning, gentlemen ; you are early on the ground. Cur. I hope the 'Squire is well to-day. ''Squire. Pretty comfortable, for an invalid. Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs again. 'Squire. No, I believe not. But since the heirs at law are all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last will and testa- ment of your deceased relative, according to law. Swipes. ( While the 'Squire is breaking the seal.) It is a try- ing thing to leave all one's possessions, 'Squire, in this manner. Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy, when I look round and see every thing but the venerable owner of these goods. Well did the Preacher say, " All is vanity." 'Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. (He puts on his spectacles, and begins to read slowly.) " Imprimis : whereas my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and inca- pable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and f» THE WILL. 85 queath all my houses, farms, stocks, bonds, moneys, and proper- ty, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler." (The ''Squire takes of his spectacles, to wipe them.) Swipes. Generous creature ! Kind soul ! I always loved her. Cur. She was good, she was kind ; and, brother Swipes, when we divide, I think I'll take the mansion house. Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife has long had her eye upon that, and must have it. Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did 1 not lend her a new chaise every time she wished to ride ? And who knows what influence — Swipes. Am I not named first in her will ? and did I not fur- nish her with my best small beer for more than six months ? and who knows — Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. (Going.) ''Squire. (Putting on his spectacles very deliberately.) Pray gentlemen, keep your seats ; I have not done yet. Let me see ; where was I ? Ay, "All my property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer," — Swipes. Yes ! 'Squire. " And Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler," — Cur. Yes ! 'Squire. " To have and to hold, in trust, for the sole and exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he shall have attained the age of twenty-one years ; by which time I hope he will have so far reformed his evil habits as that he may safely be intrusted with the large fortune which I hereby be- queath to him." Swipes. What's all this ? You don't mean that we are hum- ougged ? In trust ! How does that appear ? Where is it ? 'Squire. There ; in two words of as good old English as I ever penned. Cur. Pretty well too, Mr. 'Squire, if we must be sent for to be made a laughing stock of. She shall pay for every ride she has had out of my chaise, I promise you. Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times, if two sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here to be made the sport of a graceless profligate ! Rut we will manage nis property for him, Mr. Currie ; we will make him feel that trustees are not to be trifled with. Cut. That we will. 66 ROSS'S SPEAKER. 'Squire. Not s_> fast, gentlemen ; for the instrument is dated three years ago and the young gentleman must be already of age, and able to take care of himself. Is it not so, Francis ? Frank. It is, your worship. 'Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the breaking of the seal, according to law, you are released from any further trouble about the business. The American Government. — H. w. huxiard, Separated from the systems of the old world by the Atlan- tic, conscious of their responsibility, profoundly acquainted with the events of history, and with its ancient and modern illus- trations all before their eyes, the men who undertook the task of erecting a new government brought to it the noblest qualities. They presented a sublime spectacle. History describes upon none of its pages such a scene. Other governments had grown up under circumstances whose imperious pressure gave them their peculiar forms, and they had been modified from time to time, to keep pace with an advancing civilization ; but here was a government created by men emancipated from all foreign in- fluence, and who, in their deliberations, acknowledged r.o supreme authority but that of God. States already republican and independent were formed into a confederation, and the great principles of the government were embodied in a Constitution. The Union then established has ever since existed. Under its protection we have grown from weakness to strength. Our wealth, our population, and our pow- er have steadily advanced ; and to-day we hold an undisputed empire over a territory stretching from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico ; and the sparse population which, when the government was formed, fringed the Atlantic coast, has spread :tself westward, the Rocky Mountains have been passed, and the laws, the letters, the traditions, and the religion of the colonists are seated upon the shores of the Pacific. Our progress has more than transcended that of the fabled god of the ancients, who, beginning his morning journey in the east, drove his flaming chariot through the sky, until he dipped his glowing axle in the western waves. Behind us have sprung up all the blessings of a high civilization ; nor will they disap- pear beneath the waves of that placid ocean which we have '■cached in our march. There they will grow and flourish anr THE ILLUSTRIOUS TRIO OF STATESMEN. 81 their kindling lustre will spread over the Polynesian Islands, and gild the distant shores of Asia with a richer and purer splendor than they have ever enjoyed before. * * * We are yet in the freshness of our youth ; our country, the latest born of the great nations, is like the youngest daughter of King Lear, the fairest of the sisters : " Ah, mayst thou ever be what now thou art, Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring." The horoscope which shone so resplendently over thy birth, my country, announced a glorious destiny. We have witnessed its grand fulfilment. Berkeley's vision, revealed in poetic meat* ures, is fully realized — " Time's noblest offspring is the last." A powerful nation, in the full vigor of her youth, unfurls the banner of freedom, and its mighty folds float over a continent. Thrown out at first against a stormy sky, and in defiance of ty- rants, it is bathed to-day in the light of peace ; the eyes of all mankind are fixed upon it as the sign of hope. Shall it be rent asunder ? Shall its stars be quenched and its folds droop ? ShaK it live in the memory of mankind only as the sign of fallen pow- er and departed glory ? No ! No, let it float forever, the stan- dard of a republic the proudest, the happiest, the greatest which the world has ever beheld. Let the sun, as he rises out of the Atlantic wave, gild it with his morning beam ; let him throw his parting splendor upon it as he sinks beneath the placid waters of the Pacific, its gorgeous folds still streaming with undiminished lustre over states free, powerful, and prosperous, associated in a Union as indissoluble as it is glorious The Illustrious Trio of Statesmen. — H. w.HrLLiARD, As an Orator, Mr. Clay stood unrivalled among the states- men of our times ; and if the power of a statesman is to be measured by the control which he exerts over an audience, he will take rank among the most illustrious men who, in ancient or modern times, have decided great questions by resistless elo- quence. Mr. Calhoun was the finest type of the pure Greek intellect which this country has ever produced. His speeches resemble Grecian sculpture, with all the purity and hardness of marble ft£ ROSS'S SPEAKER. wlile tney show that the chisel was guided by the hand of a master. Demosthenes transcribed the history of Thucydides eight times, that he might acquire the strength and majesty of his style, and Mr. Calhoun had evidently studied the orations of the great Athenian with equal fidelity. He had much of his force and ardor, and his bearing was so full of dignity that it was easy to fancy, when you heard him, that you were listening to an oration from the lips of a Roman senator who had formed his style in the severe schools of Greece. Mr. Webster's oratory reaches the highest pitch of grandeur. He combines the pure philosophical faculty of investigation, which characterized the Greek mind, with the athletic power and ma- jesty which belonged to the Roman style. There is in his orations a blended strength and beauty surpassing any thing to be found in ancient or modern productions. He stands like a statue of Hercules wrought out of gold. He has been sometimes called the Demosthenes of this country ; but the attributes which he dis- played are not those which belonged to the Athenian orator. His speeches display the same power and beauty, and equal, if they do not surpass, in consummate ability, the noblest orations of Demosthenes ; but he wants the vehemence, the boldness, the impetuosity of the orator who wielded the fierce democracy of Athens at his will, and who, in his impassioned harangues, " shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece." Mr. Clay's oratory differed from that of Mr. Webster and of Mr. Calhoun, and it was more effective than that of either of his contemporaries. Less philosophical than the one, and less ma- jestic than the other, he surpassed them both in the sway which he exerted over the assemblies which he addressed. Clear, con- vincing, impassioned, and powerful, he spoke the language of truth in its most commanding tones, and the deductions of reason uttered from his lips seemed to have caught the glow of inspira- tion. * * * He realized Mr. Webster's description of oratory : " The clear conception outrunning the deductions of logic ; the high purpose ■ the firm resolve ; the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward, to his object : this, this is elo- quence ; or, rather, it is something greater and higher than all eloquence ; it is action — noble, sublime, godlike action." WI.IJ.IAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 89 William Tell among- the Mountains.— J. s. Kwowm» Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again ! — O sacred forms, how proud you look ! How high you lift your heads into the sky ! How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! Ye are the "things that tower, that shine ; whose smile Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again ! — I call to you With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, To show they still are free. I rush to you As though I could embrace you ! Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow O'er the abyss: his broad-expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air, As if he floated there without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will, That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still His airy circle, as in the delight Of measuring the ample range beneath And round about; absorbed, he heeded not The deat i that threatened him. I could not shoot ! — 'Twas libeity ! — I turned my bow aside, And let him soar away ! Gratitude to Parents and Teachers. — d. p. Paqb. When a distinguished writer said, " God be thanked for :Ii«j gift of mothers and schoolmasters," he expressed but the com- mon sentiment of the human heart. The name of parent justly enkindles the warmest emotions in the heart of him who has gone out from his native home to engage in the busy scenes of the work-dav world; and when sometimes he retires from the e>. t 0Q KUSS'S SPEAKER. And up the east, unclouded, rode the moon, With all her stars, gazing on earth intense, As if she saw some wonder walking there. Such was the night, so lovely, still, serene, When, by a hermit thorn that on the hill Had seen a hundred flowery ages pass, A damsel kneeled to offer up her prayer, Her prayer nightly offered, nightly heard. This ancient thorn had been the meeting place Of love, before his country's voice had called The ardent youth to fields of honor far Beyond the wave ; and hither now repaired, Nightly, the maid, by God's all-seeing eye Seen only, while she sought this boon alone, " Her lover's safety, and his quick return." In holy, humble attitude she kneeled, And to her bosom, fair as moonbeam, pressed One hand, the other lifted up to heaven. Her eye, upturned, bright as the star of morn, As violet meek, excessive ardor streamed, Wafting away her earnest heart to God. Her voice, scarce uttered, soft as zephyr sighs On morning lily's cheek, though soft and low, Yet heard in heaven, heard at the mercy-seat. A tear-drop wandered on her lovely face ; It was a tear of faith and holy fear, Pure as the drops that hang, at dawning time, On yonder willows by the stream of life. On her the moon looked stedfastly ; the stars, That circle nightly round the eternal throne, Glanced down, well pleased ; and Everlasting Love Gave gracious audience to her prayer sincere. O, had her lover seen her thus alone, Thus holy, wrestling thus, and all for him ! Nor did he not : for ofttimes Providence With unexpected joy the fervent prayer Of faith surprised. Returned from long delay, With glory crowned of righteous actions won, The sacred thorn, to memory dear, first sought The youth, and found it at the happy hour, Just when the damsel kneeled herself to pray. WrapDed in devotion, pleading with her God, She saw mm not, heard not his foot approach. All holy images seemed too impure THE CONTROL OF SPIRIT OVER MATTER. 10J To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneeled, Beseeching for his ward, before the throne, Seemed fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought '. But sweeter still the kind remembrance came, That she was flesh and blood, formed for himself, The plighted partner of his future life. And as they met, embraced, and sat, embowered, In woody chambers of the starry night, Spirits of love about them ministered, And God, approving, blessed the holy joy. The Control of Spirit over Matter. — Rkv. Db. Winans. No one thinks of holding either infants or insane persons of mature age responsible for the moral character of their action ; though they are the subjects of passion, and resolutely will their own course of action. This is the case, because they are deemed incapable of perceiving the moral relations of the action upon which they have determined, and for no other reason. Whereas perceptions of moral relations, susceptibility to passion and will, wherever they coexist, constitute the spirit which is endowed with them a responsible agent. That power to control matter belongs to spirit, none can doubt, after duly considering the control which the mind or spirit in man exerts over the material portion of his own nature — his nerves and his muscles, and, through these, over the world of matter without himself. How this control is exerted, it is idle to inquire ; but the fact itself is so notorious and so indisputable, that, however inscrutable the mode of operation, the power is, we suppose, universally admit- ted to exist. What mighty achievements, by means of these few and sim- ple capabilities, has spirit — creature-spirit — performed. To what hights of science, to what depths of discovery, to what an extent of knowledge has it attained ! How has it dazzled the eye and charmed the imagination, by the splendors and the beauty of architecture, sculpture, and painting! With what heart-melting melodies and soul-thrilling harmonies has it, by means of eloquence, music, and song, enraptured the listening thousands, whose happiness it lias been to come within the range of their influence ! How lias it multiplied to man the means of subsistence and comfort, and ahridged the toils of the conditio? K * 105> ROSS'S SPEAKER. in which his rebellion has placed him, in which he is doomed " in the sweat of his face to eat bread all the days of his life." What efficient forms of government has it instituted, to re- press the vices of the refractory, and to protect society in the enjoyment of its rights and privileges ! What noble examples of moral virtue, in sages, in statesmen, in martyrs, and in the poor and unregarded among men, has it produced, to display the true and elevated dignity to which man, in all kinds of society and in all kinds of circumstances, may attain ! And now pure, how ennobling, how worthy of God, and how suited to the nature, condition, and capabilities of man, the system of religion, which, under the instruction of revelation, has been -^mpassed by the spirit of man ! Sublimity and Beneficence of Creative Power. Rev. Dr. Winans. " And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear ; and it was so. And God called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters called he seas." Immediately, upon the divine com- mand, down sank more than half the earth's surface, in many parts of it to unfathomable depths. From all portions not thus depressed rushed the waters under the whole heavens; till by suitable drains were drawn together, in ocean's capacious basins, the superfluous waters of the whole earth, and the dry land emerged, with mountain and valley, hill and dale, diversifying its face, to be the proper scene of those vegetable and animal organizations with which the all-wise Creator was about to adorn and people its vast area. The sea has been called the wide waste of waters. Nothing could be more unjust ; for, besides that the sea is occupied by innumerable tribes of sensuous beings, whose constitutions are adapted to the circumstances in which they are placed, is it not notorious that, without such a surface as is spread out by the seas, evaporation, sufficient to the purpose of watering the earth, by dews and rains, would be impracticable ; and earth, through- out its whole extent, would be as sterile and as arid as the deserts of Sahara ? Then how greatly has the intercourse between the most distant parts of the globe been facilitated by the existence of this highway of nations ! A waste of waters ! Nay, verily, but a scene of dbundanl SUBLIMITY OF CREATIVE POWER. 103 and varied life and enjoyment — a reservoir, whence the earth is irrigated and rendered fruitful — the artery of social exist- ence — the great thoroughfare of commerce ! To render it tne more suitable for this latter purpose, as well as to prevent nox- ious exhalations from its immensely extended surface, the water of the seas is strongly impregnated with salts, which increase its buoyancy and lessen its tendency to stagnation and decomposi- tion. Well might the Psalmist adoringly exclaim, " In wisdom hast thou made them all ! — so is this great and wide sea ; wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. There go the ships ! ' Such and so important is the sea. • * • Upon the earth or dry land was simultaneously spread out the beautiful carpet of green, variegated with flowers of every hue, and sending up delicious fragrance to regale the sense* of be- ings capable of such gratification ; then rose the shrub, in lowly beauty, by the Lidc of the stately pine, the majestic oak, the beautiful cedar, and the graceful palm. Then, too, the laden boughs of herb, shrub, and tree displayed their various fruits, rich, delicious, and nutritive — the bounty of Providence abun- dant ir resources, and as munificent as abundant. Every vari- ety of taste is catered to in this provision. Every sense, capable of being served by such ministry, is provided with appropriate gratification in these fruits of the field and of the forest. Feel- ing, and smell, and taste, and sight are as intensely regaled as if pleasure were the only object of the provision, instead of being a mere accessory to the more important purpose of per- petuating "xistencc. * * * The broa ' world had already been surrounded by a firma- ment, or atmosphere, which, besides being the great magazine of meteoric agencies, by which the earth is rendered productive of vegetation, and rendered habitable by the various tribes of animals which ; ive upon its surface, is, moreover, the great instrument of sound — the chord whose vibrations give utterance to all the varied notes of naiure's mightv concert. Bv its means is heard the eloquence of the orator and the melody of the musician — the whisper of the zephyr and the roar of the thun- der. The instruction and the pleasure of conversation could not be enjoyed without its intervention. And what is most im- portant of all, perhaps, in the uses of the atmosphere, is that, by means of respiration, : t imparts vitality to the blood, upon whics the continuance of lif*> is constantly and absolutely dependent. 104 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Marmion and the Douglas. — Sooi*. Not far advanced was morning day, When Marmion did his troop array To Surrey's camp to ride ; He had safe conduct for his band, Beneath the royal seal and hand, And Douglas gave a guide. The train from out the castle drew ; But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : " Though something I might plain," he said, " Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I staid, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand." But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : " My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer : My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation stone — The hand of Douglas is his own, And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp." Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fir© And shook his very frame for ire, And, " This to me ! " he said : " An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And first, I tell thee, haughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mates : And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword,) I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! THE DEATH OF MARM10IS 105 And if thou saidst, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied." On the earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age ; Fierce he broke forth : " And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall ? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no ! Up drawbridge, grooms — what, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall." Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need, — And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung ; The ponderous grate behind him rung : To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. The Death of Marmion. — Scott. With that, straight up the hill there rode Two horsemen drenched with gore, And in their arm?, a helpless load, A wounded knight they bore. His hand still strained the broken brand ; His arms were smeared with blood and sand; 1 nagged from among the horses' feet, With dinted shield and helmet beat, The falcon crest and plumage gone, Can that be haughty Marmion ? When, doffed his casque, he felt free air, Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare : " Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ? Redeem my pennon — charge again! Cry — ' Marmion to the rescue ! ' — Vain ! Last of my race, on battle plain That shout shall ne'er be heard again! — Vet iny hist thought is England's — fly! Must I hid twice? — hence, varlcts! fly! !06 KOSS'S SPEAKER. Leave Marmion here alone — to die." They parted, and alone he lay : With fruitless labor Clara bound, And strove to stanch the gushing wound : The monk, with unavailing cares, Exhausted all the church's prayers. Ever, he said, that, close and near, A lady's voice was in his ear, And that the priest he could not hear ; For that she ever sung, " In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying! So the notes rung : — " Avoid thee, fiend ! — with cruel hand, Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! O, look, my son, upon yon sign Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; O, think on faith and bliss! By many a death bed I have been, And many a sinner's parting seen, But never aught like this." The war, that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, And, "Stanley!" was the cry. A light on Marmion's visage spread, And fired his glazing eye : With dying hand, above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted, "Victory! — Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " Were the last words of Marmion. The Union. — Webbtbb, It is not to be denied that we live in the midst of strong agitations ; in the midst of dangers to the institutions of our government. The imprisoned winds are let loose. " The east the north, and the stormy south are all combined to make the whole ocean toss its billows to the skies, and disclose its pro- foundest depths." I do not affect to hold, or to be fit to hold, the helm in this combat with the political elements: but I have a duty to perform, and I intend to perform it with fidelity — nc* THE UNION 101 without a sense of surrounding dangers, and not without hope. I have a part to act ; not for my own security and safety, — for I am looking out for no fragment upon which to float away from the wreck, if wreck is to ensue, — but for the good of the whole, nnd the preservation of the whole. I speak to-day for the preservation of the Union ; I speak from a solicitous and anxious desire for the restoration to the country of that quiet and that harmony which make the bless- ings of this Union so rich and so dear to us all. I should much prefer to hear from every member upon this floor declarations of opinion that this Union could never be dissolved, than the declarations of opinion that in any case, under the pressure of any circumstances, such a dissolution was possible. I hear with pain, and anguish, and distress, the word secession, when it falls from the lips of those who are eminent, patriotic, known to the country, and known to the world, for their political services. Secession ! peaceable secession ! Your eyes and mine are never destined to see that miracle. 1 would rather hear of natural blasts and mildews, of war, pestilence, and famine, than to hear gentlemen talk of secession ; of breaking up this great government, of dismembering this great country. Gentlemen are not serious when they talk of peaceable secession and dissolution. Peaceable secession ! The dismemberment of this vast country without convulsion ! The breaking up of the fountains of the great deep without ruffling the surface! Who is foolish enough — I ask every body's par- rlon — who is foolish enough to expect to see any such thing ? lie who sees these states now revolving in harmony around one common centre, and expects to see them quit their places, and fly off without convulsions, may look out the next day to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres, and jostle against each other in the realms of space, without producing a crush of the universe. Such a thing as peaceable secession ! It is utterly impossible. Is ihe constitution under which we live, covering this whole country, to be thawed and melted away by secession, as the snows upon the mountains are melted under the influence of a vernal sun, to disappear almost unobserved ? Our ancestors would rebuke and reproach us ; our children and grandchildren would cry shame upon us, if we of this generation should tar- nish those ensigns of the honor, power and harmony of the Union, which we now behold with so much joy and gratitude. Peaceable secession ! A concurrent resolution of all the nembers of this great republic to separate ! Where is the line 108 ROSS'S SPEAKER. to be drawn ? What states are to be associated ? What is to become of the army ? What is to become of the navy ? What is to become of the public lands ? Alas ! what is to remain America? What am I to be? Where is our flag to remain? Where is the eagle still to soar aloft ? or is he to cower, and shrink, and fall to the earth ? Sir, we could not sit down here to-day, and draw a line of separation that would satisfy any five men in the country. There are natural causes that would keep and tie us together and there are social and domestic relations which we could no break if we would, and which we should not if we could. Rienzi's Address to the Romans. — Maby r. Mitfosd Friends, I come not here to talk. Ye know too well The story of our thralldom. We are slaves ! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam Falls on a slave. Not such as, swept along By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads To crimson glory and undying fame ; But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde Of petty despots, feudal tyrants ; lords, Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great In that strange spell, a name. Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cry out against them. But this very day, An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, — Was struck — struck like a dog — by one who wore The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, lie tossed not high his ready cap in air, Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, And suffer such dishonor ? — men, and wash not The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common I have known deeper wrongs, — I, that speak to ye. I had a brother, once ; a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy. O, how I loved That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years • MAN AND WOMAN IN CONTRAST. 109 Brother at once and son. He left my side, A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw His corse, his mangled corse ; and then I cried For vengeance. Rouse ye, Romans ! rouse ye, slaves! Have ye brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored ; and if ye dare to call for justice, Be answered with the lash ! Yet this is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world ! And we are Romans ! Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king ! And once again, — Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear, The Eternal City shall be free ! Man and Woman in Contrast — Wibt. Man stands before us in all his native dignity. He com- mands admiration by the boldness of his designs, the grandeur of his conceptions, the chivalry of his deeds, and the preemi- nence of his talents. He delights to figure in the world's eye, and to hear his praises rung by every tongue. He glories in the stormy agitations of life. His throne is tempest, and his state convulsion. He rules nations by a word, shakes kingdoms by his influence, overturns governments at his will, and destroys his fellow-man in the mere wantonness of power. Riding upon the whirlwind, he mocks the raging storm ; playing with the lightning, he hears unmoved the thunder's voice. The wings of time make for him music as they move ; and he forgets, too often, as he is wafted to eternity's brink, the dread realities of a " Goa in thunder, and a world on fire." Such are, generally, the aspirations of his mind, the employment of his life, and the consummation of his career. To be prepared for their strange vicissitudes, and to control with facility their wonderful muta- tions, man should he educated. Woman sits by her fireside, in the beauty of her charms, and in the worshiped graces of her loveliness. The nature of her duties, the care of her children, the laws of the land, and the HO ROSS'S SPEAKER. usages of society, bind her to the home of her love. She de- lights to smooth the rough asperities of nature, to temper the burning heat of restless ambition, to check the adventurous spirit of daring heroism, and to sweeten, by the endearments of social intercourse, the passing hours of a brief existence. When the world is convulsed by the madness of ambition, and distracted by the vice and folly of legalized wickedness, she enlivens and purifies the domestic circle, by the affections and charities of a " well-ordered life and a blameless conversation." She watches, w ith maternal solicitude, the sportive tricks of helpless infancy ; listens to the sweet music of its voice ; exults in the endearing playfulness of its smiles ; weeps at the melting accents of :ts cry ; and, as she rocks the little manly spirit to its repose, strikes the silver-toned notes of merry happiness, and enjoys again the dewy freshness of life's morning hour. In lime's rapid flight, the days of childhood have passed, and the little prattler stands by his "mighty mother's" side, life's young pilgrim. With a deep sense of the responsibility of her trust, she molds his mind and forms his manners, directs his powers and regulates his conduct. In process of time, she unfolds the saving truths of his condition and danger, destination and immortality. She strikes the chord of deep-toned feeling, opens the fountains of sympathetic emotions, kindles the flame of virtuous ambition, points to the source of religious consola- tion, and, at last, sends forth the wanderer upon the world's wide theater, with a mother's love and a mother's blessing. To perform appropriately these high and delicate trusts, should not woman be educated ? Speech of Semjironius for War. — Addisoh My voice is still for war Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose — slavery or death? No ; let us rise at once, gird on our swords, And at the head of our remaining troops Attack the foe, break through the thick array Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon hirr Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. Rise, fathers, rise ! 'tis Rome demands your help. Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, Or share their fate. The corpse of half her senaie SPEECH OF UATO. 11] Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we Sit here, deliberating, in cold debates, If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame ! our brothers of Pharsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, " To battle ! ' Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us! Speech of Lucius for Peace. — Addison. My thoughts, I must confess, are turned on peace. Already have our quarrels filled the world With widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. 'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare mankind. It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers ; The gods declare against us, and repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Were to refuse the awards of Providence, And not to rest in Heaven's determination. Already have we shown our love to Rome : Now let us show submission to the gods. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, But free the commonwealth : when this end fails, Arms have no further use ; — our country's cause, That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands, And bids us not delight in Roman blood Unprofitably shed. What men could do Is done already : heaven and earth will witness, If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. Speech of Cato.— Addison. Let us uppear nor rash nor diffident : Immoderate vaior swells into a fault; And fear, admitted into public councils, Betrays, like treason. Lei us shun them both. U'2 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs Are grown thus desperate : we have bulwarks round us Within our walls are troops inured to toil In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun : Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, Ready to rise at its young prince's call. While there is hope, do not distrust the gods ; But wait, at least, till Caesar's near approach Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late To sue for chains and own a conqueror. Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time ? No, let us draw her term of freedom out In its full length, and spin it to the last. So shall we gain still one day's liberty. And let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment, A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty Is worth a whole eternity in bondage. Political Conservatism.— William Brainard Spenceb* [The Jive articles which follow, in this connection, constitute the grad- uating speech of a young Louisianian of great promise. It dates from Centenary College of Louisiana, July, 1855, and has only been subjected to such change as was necessary to detach the several numbers.] The storms of war are gathering thick about us. The disso- nant thunder of artillery shakes the colossal monuments of classic Greece, portending a tempest which shall rock and con- vulse nations and empires to their centers. As men, as philan- tnropists, as members of a great and growing republic, it behooves us to pause, and consider, calmly and dispassionately, our condition. Like skillful mariners, whilst yet the storm thunders in the distance, let us sound the waters beneath us ; let us take our latitude and longitude, ascertain our true position, and determine our future course. If there be, in this vast assembly, one heart that beats warmly in the cause of humanity, one breast that feels the generous impulse of philanthropy, let that one — let all such — pause, ere he determines to act. Such is the policy wisdom would recommend, such the precaution prudence would suggest. We know that there are among us far-seeing individuals — * A nephew of General Caaa. POLITICAL CONSERVATISM. 113 would-be political seers, with sharper ken, perhaps, than is usu- ally possessed — who, whilst gazing far out into the dim distance of future ages — whilst watching the tide of empire, in its pro- spective ebb and flow — foresee advantages of stupendous magni- tude, of inconceivable importance, rising from the troubled waters of European politics, like Venus from the ocean spray ! We know, too, that there are those who might be called political astrologers ; whose telescopic eye, annihilating distance, and following, with mathematical accuracy, the tortuous peregrina- tions of the star of empire, as it mounts to its zenith, or sinks to its nadir, descries order, rising, like the sun, from the bosom of chaos ; wisdom, emerging from the gloomy folds of ignorance ; and equality, leaping, full-fledged and Minerva-like, from ine- quality and despotism of the deepest dye. But with these sooth^ saying politicians, who seem gifted with prophetic vision, — who need only see an antecedent, a cause, and their capacious minds rest in a conclusion, without the aid of a reasoning process, (that feeble instrument of less gifted minds,) — with these we have nothing to do. Let us descend, then, from the lofty regions of prophecy to the humbler teachings of common sense — to the dictations of groveling reason ; which, if it affords us not so entrancing a panorama, will, at least in a majority of cases, give us a more solid foundation upon which to build our calculations. There are those who plainly discern, in the present struggle of Euro- pean nations, the dawn of civil and religious liberty — the advent and reign of the Prince of Peace ; and would fain persuade themselves, that, not far beyond the horizon of a trained eye. we might hail the glorious tints which herald the advent of the millennium, " when the lion and the lamb shall lie down togeth- er," — " when righteousness and peace shall kiss each other." If experience will warrant this conclusion, history has been read lo little purpose. If reason and argument will sustain it, logic is deceptive, and the plainest principles without foundation. Who does not see, that, in the great struggles of the Napole- onic age, the fetters of despotism were riveted more firmly ? that they were strengthened and multiplied upon the nations by a twofold process ? Not only were the people impoverished, and their political importance diminished, but the reins of govern- ment, already drawn to the utmost tension, were grasped with a yet firmer hand, and wielded by a yet more iron will. Political power was usurped and consolidated by crowned heads. France, who struggled with the energy of a giant, fell prostrate before (he storm, received new fetters of oppression, and bowed to a 8 114 BOSS'S SPEAKJEK. yet heavier yoke of despotism. Even constitutional England felt that her liberties were impaired, and her rights infringed, by an accumulation of power in the hands of her executive. And does not all experience prove and testify that wars of this kind — wars not based upon an intelligent perception of the rights of the people — that they must necessarily and inevitably result in an accumulation and centralization of power in the hands of a few ? This is the invariable sequence. Then let us shun it, as we would the deadly shade of the Upas. The Same, continued. Reason guarantees the conclusion, that long and destructive wars must necessarily result in the moral, intellectual, and polit- ical prostration of the people, and in the utter mendicancy of nations. The great corner stones, upon which alone the temple of constitutional liberty can be erected and sustained, are intelli- gence and morality. And here we would ask, " How can a nation — how can the world — advance in the one or the other, whilst war's destructive blast breathes desolation over seas and continents, and shakes pestilence and famine from its dusky wings ? " War ! it is the fruitful mother of moral depravity, the charnel house of education, and the great school of military insubordination. It is the hideous monster who devours without benefit, and consumes without producing. Then cast hither your eyes, ye political seers, and tell us what benefits will accrue from these bloody conflicts of the east. The thunder of the cannon shakes the land ; nations stand marshaled " in all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war ; " whilst wan Famine, with a ghastly smile playing on her horrid features, shakes her emaciated finger at beggared nations and bankrupt governments. The great channels of commerce — those fountains of national prosperity — are clogged up with embargoes and blockades. Industry has laid aside the implements of peace — "the distaff and the loom" — to wield the battle-ax. And for what ? Are the nations, are the people, to be made more enlightened, more moral, or more free ? The idea is pre- posterous ! The liberty and happiness of the world must be wrought out by other and different means. What, then, is th3 grand object of these bloody struggles? Why, if the truth ware known, simply to cast new fetters for the people ; but, ostensibly, to maintain a metaphysical numbug POLITICAL CONSERVATISM. 115 — " a balance of power " — that great hobby of scheming poli- ticians and political buccaneers, whereby the clock of the world, which has so long beat the march of progress, will go back a century. But we are told that this can not last ; that the people will eventually become tired of these things ; that the tyrants of Europe will be swept away on the blast of popular indignation ; that an exasperated people will rise up to take vengeance upon its oppressors. This may all be ; but what good will it effect ? Will the people — w'ill the world — be benefited by these terrific convul- sions, these bloody paroxysms of rage ? How can they be ? You may goad the lion to desperation, but he can do nothing but devour ; he will tear down, but can not build up. Do present circumstances favor the moral and intellectual development of the masses? Vain, indeed, is it to talk of independence with- out enlightenment — of liberty without intelligence. The people of Europe may cast aside the chains of a master, but they will be put into the stocks of a tyrant. If, then, such wholesale misery is to be entailed upon human- ity ; if kings and princes are to be mere bubbles, blown upon the political ocean by the popular breath — the mere ephemeral creations of an ignorant, frantic, and fanatic people, who are unwilling to support, but unable to throw off, the burdens of political oppression ; in a word, if they are to be flitting phan- tasms, which dance for a moment before the eye of distempered popular ignorance, — would it not be a safer and wiser policy even for the rulers of Europe to lay aside their family feuds and metaphysical balances, and yield t^ the spirit of the age, which is onward ? Is it not better to suffer in the hands of enlightened justice than to become the victim of Jacobin fury < Let them weigh well their own interests, and determine accu- rately their own situations, before they go farther. Tfie Same, continued. England, that prince of nations, — England, whose hoarded wealth ought to surpass the wildest dreams of gold-dreaming alchymy, or the storied treasures of Ophir, — now stands, by her war policy, tottering on the brink of bankruptcy and revolution A thousand millions of public debt, hanging lil<<; a deadly incubu* about her; a [anguishing industry; an impeded commerce; an], worse man all, a huge army of beggared soldiers threatening to 116 KOSS'S SPEAKER. sink her amid the storms of conflict ! The palmiest days of the English lion are evidently numbered in the past. And France, honored and beloved France — the desolating wars of a thousand years have not yet taught her wisdom. She has forgotten that the days of dragon's teeth are past, and that men no longer spring up, as by magic, ready armed and pano- plied for battle. A Utopian dreamer has usurped her liberties, and now sacrifices hecatombs of her brave sons on a foreign strand, in the vain hope of realizing the ambitious, exploded undertakings of a great but misguided predecessor. Let Louis Napoleon tremble. His dreams of conquest will be waked by the thunders of retribution. A breath made him a king ; a breath will make him a beggar and a criminal. Successful treason led him to a throne ; successful treason will lead him to a guillotine. The wrath of a deluded nation will burst, in fear- ful storms, upon his guilty head. If, then, these things be true of centralized, consolidated, monarchical governments, wielded by the energy of a single will, who can not foresee the evils which a war policy would inflict upon a country like our own ? War is not the element of a confederated government. There is not that unity of ac- tion, that secrecy of design, that celerity of movement, which alone insure success. But, in contravention of all this, we are told that America is a great country, and that the limits of her dominions should be commensurate with the extent of the globe ; that the sun, in time, will never rise upon her spacious bounds, nor set upon her illimitable empire. " Seas roll to waft me — suns to light me rise ; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies." But where is the common sense, or sound policy, in such Quix- otic ravings as this? 'Tis the idle dream of a distempered mind ; the vain bawble that elicits the applause of crazy fanati- cism ; an idea at once warring with common experience, tran- scending the bounds of rational credulity, and breaking down the restrictions which nature, God, and man have imposed for the common good. The Same, confirmed. It is indeed true that we are a great nation. The sun, in his lofty march, never shone upon a greater — nay, upon an equal. Basea upon hnlf a continent, she stands forth, the political Pharos POLITICAL CONSERVATISM. 117 of the world ! The well-proportioned columns, the symmetrical structure of constitutional government, rear their lofty heads in proud sublimity, in solitary grandeur, above the western waves. Lofty mountains and wide-extended plains, inland seas and pilgrim streams, mark out her giant dimensions. We are proud of her ; we love her. But let us keep constantly in mind the important, the vital truth, that unity of feeling and identity of interest are the great fountains which alone can turn, with regu- larity and forever, the nicely-balanced wheels of a well-con- structed government. It is lamentable, but not less true, that self-interest wields the arm of the world, and is the mighty lever which moves and directs the actions and feelings of humanity. Climate and situ- ation change the characters and modify the interests of men. How, then, can you expect an assimilation in manners and cus- toms — a union — among adverse races, actuated by adverse motives, and led by adverse interests ? Away, then, with the gay delusion of universal empire ; away with this ultra, pseudo- progressive spirit of the nineteenth century ! Nature is consist- ent with herself, and defies the puny, paltry, insignificant efforts of man to contravene her eternal and immutable laws. There is a limit to this government, as well as to all others , and experience and prudence would suggest that we have well nigh attained that limit. Let us not draw down upon ourselves the bickering thunder-shafts of disunion, which have already swept, with such fearful violence, over our heads. Let us not nurse the storm, and cradle the hurricane, which is to demolish this colossal structure of republicanism. Let us not challenge the retributions of nature, by repeating the dangerous experi- ment of further extension. The great champions, who breasted the storm of 1850, are gone. Should the winds of civil conten- tion again blow their trumpets, to wreak their vengeance upon this happy and yet prosperous country, who will assure us that we shall find another Clay, Webster, or Calhoun, to speak peace to the raging elements, or pour oil upon the troubled waters? Beware, 'hen, lest, in grasping after the golden fruit of empire, you topple ,,vcr the precipice of destruction. Hut they tell us, principle is principle, wherever it is found; that like causes must produce like effects; that the principles of self-government are -is applicable to a world as to a province. Bui does this prove thai the world, or half of it, can be united under one and the same line of policy — under one government > The great law of gravitation is the same, not only the world over hut extends to, pervades, ami governs the stupendous 118 ROSS'S SPEAKER. mechanism of the universe, to the farthest nebula that hangs on the outskirts of creation. But this does not prove that its action in China may not be diametrically opposite to its action on this side of the globe. The policy of a country must vary with its circumstances, and with the character and condition of its inhab- itants. The policy which will suit one portion of the globe will not necessarily suit another. But we would not be understood as wishing to curtail the do- minions of civil and religious liberty. Far from it. We will go as far as the farthest in wishing them God-speed and victory. We would hail the day when the banners of republicanism should be planted upon the poles of the globe : when the glad acclaim of redeemed millions, swelling above the roar of the ocean and the hoarse thunder of the storm, should proclaim from experience, " Liberty is priceless ; liberty is priceless ! " We only suggest the expediency of limiting ourselves to proper bounds, and of ceasing to grasp after new territorial acquisitions in defiance of the plainest principles of prudence. The Same, concluded. We are already rich in territory. The American eagle, planting one foot upon the Alleghanies, and the other upon the Rocky Mountains, stretches his broad pinions over half a conti- nent. What need we more ? Let us cease, then, to dream of conquest, save by the force of example. Let us adopt, as the inviolable rule of action, that great international code — that symmetrical structure, which has been built upon the wreck of ages. Let us act upon its broad and immutable principles, yield what it demands, and grasp with a firm hand what it gives. Fight for justice, not for empire, if fight we must. We repeat, again, that the character of this government is not suited to military operations. It is not sufficiently central- ized to insure success. Let us welcome, then, the rich smile of Ceres ; but shun, if we are able, the destructive frowns of Mars. But, aside from all this, even if victory, in every struggle, should perch upon our standard — if the treasures of van- quished nations should be poured out at the feet of our triumph- ant armies — "'twould be but a losing game." Beware of standing armies and victorious generals ; beware of military insubordination, that bane of all republics. Our liberties may be prostrated beneath the feet of military greatness and military POLITICAL CONSERVATISM. 119 licentiousness. The heel of a conqueror may be planted upon the constitution. Does this provoke a smile ? The stern Roman, too, would have laughed to scorn the idea of a victorious Caesar trampling down the sacred prerogatives of Roman citizens. But wouid Americans propagate the inestimable blessings of republican- ism ? Would they behold the world basking beneath the genial influences of justice and equality ? Then let them cease to dream of proselyting the world by sword argument and gun- powder logic. War will neither give intelligence nor morality, peace nor prosperity ; and these alone are the Titan energies which must work out the deliverance of the political world. America must be an instructor, not an avenger ; the great missionary of nations, ministering to the sorrowing millions of humanity, like an angel of mercy — proclaiming "peace on earth, and good will to men." Let her be the great political sun in the heavens, whose benign, resplendent, and powerful rays shall warm into life, and stimulate into action, the germi- nating elements of political reformation, and wake from his embryo sleep the young giant of republicanism. But this can not be effected while somber war clouds float over and obscure hei radiant and burning disk. Then let us away with this crusading, all-grasping spirit, which prompts and directs the delusive and frantic dreams of young America, whose patriotic rapacity vainly expects to build up and sustain constitutional government upon the wreck of na- tional honor and upon the dissolution of national unity. Let us listen no longer to his siren songs of dominion, nor taste his Circean cup of conquest. Let us close our ears to his " sono- rous metal, blowing martial sounds," and leave the young hero to pipe out his war strains in merited oblivion. Then there will be heard no discordant note from the harp of republicanism, touched in unison by thirty-two sister planets, rolling in grand perspective, like the mighty landmarks of God, in the great orbit prescribed by the constitution. No constituent member will be without the "sphere of influence." Unity of interest, unity of thought, and unity of feeling will be the great laws of gravita lion, which bind and sustain in one harmonious whole the greal planets and suns of this governmental system. [20 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Unfounded Prejudices ; or, Aversion subdued. AlKIN. Belford. Pray, who is the present possessor of the Brookby estate ? Arhury. A man of the name of Goodwin. Bel. Is he a good neighbor to you ? Arb. Far from it ; and I wish he had settled a hundred miles off, rather than come here to spoil our neighborhood. Bel. I am sorry to hear that. But what is your objection to him ? Arb. O, there is nothing in which we agree. In the first place, he is quite of the other side in politics; and that, you know, is enough to prevent all intimacy. Bel. 1 am not entirely of that opinion. But what else ? Arb. He is no sportsman, and refuses to join in our associa- tion for protecting the game. Neither does he choose to be a member of any of our clubs. Bel. Has he been asked ? Arb. I do not know that he has, directly ; but he might easily propose himself, if he liked it. But he is of a close, un- sociable temper, and, I believe, very niggardly. Bel. Flow has he shown it ? Arb. His style of living is not equal to his fortune, and 1 have heard of several instances of his attention to petty economy. Bel. Perhaps he spends his money in charity. Arb. Not he, I dare say. It was but last week that a poor fellow, who had lost his all by a fire, went to him with a sub- scription paper, in which were the names of all the gentlemen in the neighborhood ; and the only answer he received was, that he would consider of it. Bel. And did he consider ? Arb. I do not know, but I suppose it was only an excuse. Then his predecessor had a park well stocked with deer, and used to make liberal presents of venison to all his neighbors. But this frugal gentleman has sold them all off, and keeps a flock of sheep instead of them. Bel. I do not see much harm in that, now mutton is so dear. Arb. To be sure, he has a right to do as he pleases with his park ; but that is not the way to be beloved, you know. As to myself, I have reason to think he bears me particular ill will. Bel. Then he is much in the wrong ; for I presume you are as [ree from ill will to others as any man living. But how has he shown it, pray ? JNl'OUNDED P1UEJUDICES. 12, Arb. In twenty instances. He had a horse upon sale, the other diy, to which I took a liking, and bid money for it. As soon as he found I wanted it, he sent it off to a fair, in another part of the country. My wife, you know, is passionately fond of cultivating flowers. Riding lately by his grounds, she ob- served something new, and took a great longing for a root or cutting of it. My gardener mentioned her wish to his, (con- trary, I own, to my inclination,) and he told his master; but, instead of obliging her, he charged the gardener on no account to touch the plant. A little while ago, I turned off a man for saucy behavior ; but, as he had lived many years with me, and was a very useful servant, I meant to take him again, upon his submission, which I did not doubt would soon happen. Instead of that, he goes and offers himself to my civil neighbor, who, without deigning to apply to me even for a character, engages him immediately. In short, he has not the least of a gentleman about him, and I would give any thing to be well rid of him. fitl. Nothing, to be sure, can be more unpleasant, in the country, than a bad neighbor, and I am concerned it is your lot to have one. But there is a man who seems as if he wanted to speak with you. {A countryman approaches.} Arb. Ah! it is the poor fellow that was burned out. Well Richard, how do you succeed ? What has the subscription pro- duced you ? Richard. Thank your honor — my losses are nearly all made up. Arb. I am very glad of that; but, when I saw the papei last, it did not reach half way. Rich. It did not, sir ; but you may remember asking mt what Mr. Goodwin had done for me, and I told you he took time to consider of it. Well, sir, I found that, the very next day, he had been at our town, and had made very particular inquiry about me and my losses, among my neighbors. When I called upon him, a few days after, he told me he was very glad to find thai I bore such a good character, and that the gentlemen round had so kindly taken up my case; and he would prevent the ne- cessity of my going any farther for relief. Upon which he gave me — God bless him! — a draft upon his banker for two hun- dred dollars. Arb. Two hundred dollars! Rich. Yes, sir. It has made me quite my own man again mid I am now going to purchase ;i new cart and team of horses Arb. A noble g ft, indeed I could never have thought it {•22 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Well, Richard, I rejoice at your good fortune. 1 am sure you are much obliged to Mr. Goodwin. Rich. Indeed I am, sir, and to all my good friends. God bless you, sir. (Exit.) Bel. Niggardliness, at lexst, is not this man's foible. Arb. No. I was mistaken in tbat point. I wronged him, and I am sorry for it. But what a pity it is that men of real generosity should not be amiable in their manners, and as ready to oblige in trifles as in matters of consequence ! Bel. True, it is a pity, when that is really the case. Arb. How much less an exertion it would have been to have shown some civility about a horse or a flower root ! Bel. Speaking of flowers, there is your gardener coming, with a large one in a pot. (Enter Gardener.) Arb. Now, James, what have you there ? Gardener. A flower, sir, for madam, from Mr. Goodwin's. Arb. How did you come by it ? Gard. His gardener, sir, sent me word to come for it. We should have had it before, but Mr. Goodwin thought it could not be moved safely. Arb. I hope he has more of them. Gard. He has only a seedling plant or two, sir ; but, hear- ing that madam took a liking to this, he was resolved to send it to her ; and a choice thing it is. I have a note for madam in my pocket. Arb. Well, take it home. (Exit Gardener.) Bel. Methinks this does not look like deficiency in civility. Arb. No ; it is a very polite action ; 1 cannot deny it, and I am obliged to him for it. Perhaps, indeed, he may feel he owes me a little amends. Bel. Possibly. It shows he can feel, most certainly. Arb. It does. Ha ! there is Yorkshire Tom coming from the fair. I will step up, and speak to him. Well, Tom, how have horses stone at Market Hill ? Tom. Dear enough, your honor. Arb. How much more did you get for Mr. Goodwin's mare than I offered him ? Tom. Ah, sir, that was not an animal for your riding, and Mr. Goodwin well knew it. You never saw such a vicious crea- ture. She liked to have killed the groom, two or three times. So I was ordered to offer her to the mail coach people, and get what 1 could from them. I might have sold her to better advan- tage, if Mr. Goodwin would have let me ; for she wax as fine a creature to look at as need be, and quite sound. UNBOUNDED PREJUDICES. 123 Arb. And was that the true reason, Tom, why the mare was not sold to me ? Tom. It was, indeed, sir. Arb. Then I am highly obliged to Mr. Goodwin. (Ton t>oes.) This was handsome behavior, indeed! Bel. Yes, I think it was somewhat more than politeness : it was real goodness of heart. Arb. It was. I find I must alter my opinion of him, and 1 do it with pleasure. But, after all, his conduct with respect to my servant is somewhat unaccountable. Bel. I see reason to think so well of him in relation to most transactions, that I am inclined to hope he will be acquitted in this matter, too. Arb. There comes Ned now ; 1 wonder that he has my old lvery on yet. (Ned approaches, pulling ojf his hat.) Ned. Sir, I was coming to your honor to Arb. What can you have to say to me now, Ned ? Ned. To ask pardon, sir, for my misbehavior, and beg you to take me again. Arb. What, have you so soon parted with your new master? Ned. Mr. Goodwin never was my master, sir. He only kept me in his house till I could make up with vou again ; for he said he was sure you were too honorable a gentleman to turn off an old servant, without good reason, and he hoped you would admit my excuses after your anger was over. Arb. Did he say all that ? Ned. Yes, sir ; and he advised me not to delay any longer asking your pardon. Arb. Well, go to my house, and I will talk with you on my return. Bel. Now, my friend, what think you of this ? Arb. 1 think more than I can well express. It will be a les- son to me never to make hasty judgments again. Bel. Why, indeed, to have concluded that such a man had nothing of the gentleman about him, must have been rather hasty. Arb. 1 acknowledge it. But it is the misfortune of these reserved characters, that they are so long in making themselves known; though, when they are known, they often prove the most t-uly estimable. I am afraid, even now, that I must be rontcnt with esteeming him at a distance. Bel. Why so ? Arb. You know I am of an open, sociable disposition. 124 ROSSS SPEAKER. Bel. Perhaps he is so, too. Arb. If lie was, surely we should have been better acquaint ed before this time. Bel. It may have been prejudice, rather than temper, tha has kept you asunder. Arb. Possibly so. That vile spirit of party has such a sway in the country, that men of the most liberal dispositions can hardly free themselves from its influence. It poisons all the kindness of society ; and yonder comes an instance of its perni- cious effects. Bel. Who is he ? Arb. A poor schoolmaster, with a large family, in the next market town, who has lost all his scholars by his activity on our side in the last election. I heartily wish it was in my power to do something for him ; for he is a very honest man, though per- haps rather too ardent. {The schoolmaster comes up.) Arb. Well, Mr. Penman, how go things with you ? Penman. I thank you, sir, they have gone poorly enough, but 1 hope they are in the way to mend. Arb. I am glad to hear it ; but how ? Pen. Why, sir, the free school of Stoke is vacant, and I be- lieve I am likely to get it. Arb. Ah ! I wonder at that. 1 thought it was in the hands of the other party. Pen. It is, sir ; but Mr. Goodwin has been so kind as tc give me a recommendation, and his interest is sufficient to carry it. Arb. Mr. Goodwin ! you surprise me. Pen. I was much surprised, too, sir. He sent for me of his own accord, (for I should never have thought of asking a favor from him,) and told me he was sorry a man should be injured in his profession on account of party ; and, as I could not live com- fortably where I was, he would try to settle me in a better place. So he mentioned the vacancy of Stoke, and offered me letters to the trustees. I was never so afFected in my life, sir. I could hardly speak to return him thanks. He kept me to dinner, and treated me with the greatest respect. Indeed, I believe there i« not a kinder man breathing than Mr. Goodwin. Arb. You have the best reason in the world for saying so, Mr. Penman. What, did he converse familiarly with you ? Pen. Quite so, sir. We talked a great deal about party af- fairs in this neighborhood ; and he lamented much that differ- ences of this kind should keep worthy men at a distance from RESISTANCE TO OITRESSION. 1^5 each other. I took the liberty, sir, of mentioning your name. He said he had not the honor of being acquainted with you, but that he had a sincere esteem for vour character, and should bo glad of any occasion to cultivate a friendship with you. For mv part, I confess, to my shame, I did not think there could have been such a man on that side. Arb. Well, good morning. Pen. Your most obedient, sir. (He goes.) Arb. (After some silence.) Come, my friend, let us go. Bel. Whither ? Arb. Can you doubt ? To Mr. Goodwin's, to be sure. Af- ter all that I have heard, can I exist a moment without acknowl- edging the injustice I have done him, and soliciting his friend- ship ? Bel. I shall be happy, I am sure, to accompany you on that errand. But who is to introduce us ? Arb. What is form and ceremony in a case like this ? Come come. Bel. Most willingly. Resistance to Oppression in its Rudiments. Daniel Webster. Every encroachment, great or small, is important enough to awaken the attention of those who are intrusted with the preser- vation of a constitutional government. We are not to wait till great public mischiefs come, till the government is overthrown, or liberty itself put in extreme jeopardy. We should nut be worthy sons of our fathers, were we so to regard great ques- tions, affecting the general freedom. These fathers accomplished the revolution on a strict question of principle. The Parliament of Great Britain asserted a right to tax the colonies in all cases whatsoever ; and it was precisely on this question that they made the revolution turn. The amount of taxation was trifling, but the claim itself was inconsistent with liberty ; and that was, in their eyes, enough. It was against the recital of an act of Par- liament, ratlier than against any suffering under its enactments, that they took up arms. They went to war against a preamble. They fought seven years againsl a declaration. They poured out their treasures and their blood, like' water, in a contest in opposition in an as- sertion, which those less sagacious, and not so well schooled in F* 126 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the principles of civil liberty, would have regarded as barren phraseology, or mere parade of words. They saw in the claim of the British Parliament a seminal principle of mischief, the germ of unjust power; they detected it, dragged it forth from underneath its plausible disguises, struck at it ; nor did it elude either their steady eye, or their well-directed blow, till they had extirpated and destroyed it, to the smallest fibre. On this ques- tion of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised their flag against a power to which, for purposes of for- eign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be compared ; a power which has dotted over the sur- face of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts ; whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth daily with one con- tinuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England. The Long Ago. — Anon. [It requires not especially "sentiment" to appreciate the lines -which ensue. Feeling, deep, true feeling, is their characteristic ; and they who look upon the loved and lost, who have gone before, will feel them in their " heart of hearts."] O, a wonderful stream is the river Time, As it runs through the realms of tears, With a faultless rhythm, and a musical rhyme, And a broader sweep, and a surge sublime, And blends with the ocean of years. How the winters are drifting like flakes of snow, And the summers like buds between, And the year in the sheaf — so they come and go On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow, As it glides in the shadow and sheen. There's a magical isle up the river Time, Where the softest of airs are playing ; There's a cloudless sky, and a tropical clime, And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, And the Junes with the roses are staying. And the name of this isle is the Long Ago And we bury our treasures there ; KRUFT10N OF COSAGUINA. 127 There are brows of beauty, and bosoms of snow — There are heaps of dust, but we love them so ! — There are trinkets and tresses of hair. There are fragments of song that nobody sings, And a part of an infant's prayer ; There's a lute unswept and a harp without strings , There are broken vows and pieces of rings, And the garments that she used to wear. & There are hands that are waved when the fairy shore By the mirage is lifted in air ; And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar, Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before, When the wind down the river is fair. 0, remembered for aye be the blessed isle, All the day of life till night. When the evening comes, with its beautiful smile, And our eyes are closing to slumber a while, May that " greenwood " of soul be in sight. Eruption of the Volcano of Cosaguina, John L. Stephens. Following the coast, at eleven o'clock we were opposite the volcano of Cosaguina, a long, dark mountain range, with another ricge running below it, and then an extensive plain, covered with lava to the sea. The wind headed us, and, in order to weather the point of headland from which we could lay our course, the boatmen got into the water to tow the bungo. I followed them, and, w ith a broad-brimmed straw hat to protect me from the sun, I found the water was delightful. Unable, however, to weather the point, at half past one we came to anchor, and very si inn nearly every man on board was asleep. Before me was the volcano of Cosaguina, with its field <>f lava and its desolate shore, and not a living being was in sight except my Bleeping boatmen. Five years before, on the shores of the Mediterranean, and at the foot of Mount Etna, I read in a newspaper an account of the eruption of this volcano. Little did I then ever expect to see it; the most awful in the history of volcanic eruptions, the noise of which startled the people of 12S ROSS'S SPEAKER. Guathnala, four hundred miles off, and at Kingston, Jamaica, eight hundred miles distant, was supposed to be signal guns of distress from some vessel at sea. The face of nature was changed ; the cone of the volcano was £fone ; a mountain and field of lava ran down to the sea ; a for- est old as creation had entirely disappeared, and two islands were formed in the sea; shoals were discovered, in one of which a large tree was fixed upside down ; one river was completely choked up, and another formed, running in an opposite direction seven men, in the employ of my bungo proprietor, ran down to the water, pushed off in a bungo, and were never heard of more; wild beasts, howling, left their caves in the mountains, and ounces, leopards, and snakes fled for shelter to the abodes of men. Mr. Savage, the American consul, was on that day on the side of the volcano of San Miguel, distant one hundred and twenty miles. At eight o'clock he saw a dense cloud rising in the south in a pyramidal form, and heard a noise which sounded like the roaring of the sea. Very soon the thick clouds were lighted up by vivid flashes, rose-colored and forked, shooting and disap- pearing, which he supposed to be some electrical phenomenon. These appearances increased so fast, that the men whom he had in his employ became exceedingly frightened, believing, as they said, that the end of the world was approaching. Very soon he himself was satisfied that it was the eruption of a volcano ; and as Cosaguina was at that time a quiet mountain, not suspected tt contain subterraneous fires, he supposed it to proceed from the volcano of Tigris. He returned to the town of San Miguel, which, as he entered it, felt, in quick succession, several severe shocks of earthquake. The inhabitants were distracted with terror. Birds flew wildly through the streets, and, blinded by the dust, fell dead on the ground. At four o'clock, it was so dark, that, as Mr. Savage says, he held up his hand before his eyes, and could not see it. Nobody moved without a candle, which gave a dim and misty light, extending only a few feet. At this time the church was full, and could not contain half t/ho wished to enter. The figure of the Virgin was brought out into the plaza, and borne through the streets, followed by the in- habitants, with candles and torches, in penitential procession crying upon the Lord to pardon their sins ; bells tolled ; and during the procession there was another earthquake, so violent and long that it thr< w to the ground many people walking in the procession. The darkness continued till eleven o'clock the n«xl TO l'HE EAGLE. ,29 day, when th<> sun was partially visible, but dim and hazy, and without any brightness. The dust on the ground was four inches thick ; the branches of trees broke with its weight, and people were so dishuured by it that they could not he recognized. At this time Mr. Savage set out for his hacienda at Zonzonate. Fie slept at the first village, and, at two or three o'clock in the morning, was roused by a report like the breaking of most ter- rific thurrjer, or the firing of thousands of cannon. This was the report which startled the people of Guatimala, when the commandant sallied out, supposing that the quartel was attacked and wh';h was heard at Kingston in Jamaica. To the Eagle. — PbBOTY AX- 'S Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, Thy home is high in heaven, Where wide the storms their banners fling, And the tempest clouds are driven. Thy throne is on the mountain top ; Thy fields, the boundless air; And hoary peaks, that proudly prop The skies, thy dwellings are. Lord of the boundless realm of air, In thy imperial name The hearts of the bold and ardent dare The dangerous path of fame, rteneath the shade of thy golden wings, The Roman legions bore, From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs, Their prifle, to the polar shore. For thee they fought, for thee they fell, And their oath was on thee laid ; To thee the clarions raised their swell, And the dying warrior praved. Thou wert, through an age of death and fears, The image of pride mid power, Till the gathered rage of a thousand vars Rurst forth in one awful hour. '30 ROSS'S SPEAKER. And then, a deluge of wrath it came, And the nations shook with dread ; And it swept the earth, till its fields were flame, And piled with the mingled dead. Kings were rolled in the wasteful flood With the low and crouching slave, And together lay, in a shroud of blood, The coward and the brave. And where was then thy fearless flight ? " O'er the dark, mysterious sea, To the lands that caught the setting light, The cradle of Liberty. There, on the silent and lonely shore, For ages, I watched alone ; And the world, in its darkness, asked no more Where the glorious bird had flown. " But then came a bold and hardy few, And they breasted the unknown wave ; I caught afar the wandering crew, And I knew they were high and brave. I wheeled around the welcome bark, As it sought the desolate shore ; And up to heaven, like a joyous lark, My quivering pinions bore. " And now that bold and hardy few Are a nation wide and strong ; And danger and doubt I have led them through, And they worship me in song ; And over their bright and glancing arms, On field, and lake, and sea, With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms, I guide them to victory." Bonaparte. — e. a. Nisbet. From an island of the middle sea came the man of destiny. No title graced his name, no heraldic insignia emblazoned his shield. Age had scarce marked him with the impress of ma- turity, y?t in his heart fluttered the high hopes, and around his OX RETURNING TO THE UNITED STATES. 13 soul circled the daring resolves of unparalleled genius. With his mind and his good sword the means, and glory his end, he headed the soldiery. He bade the boiling caldron of popular licentiousness to cease its bubblings, and it yielded to his incan- tations. He seized on power as his guerdon, and victory was his familiar spirit. The antiquated tactics of the continent dis- solved before the energy of the conqueror, like frostwork before the sun of the tropics ; nor alpine hights, nor swollen streams, nor veteran hosts, nor time, nor space, could limit his career. In his ire he scourged the nations, and in his complacency he hushed their mournings ; around him he scattered, as if in very wantonness, scepters, crowns, and diadems, and kingdoms were to him but holiday souvenirs. Onward was his watchword, and onward he marched, over fallen thrones, and vanquished realms, and prostrate systems. On the field of Waterloo went down the star of the lord para- mount of Europe ; in gloom, 'tis true, yet still in glory ; and we must yet doubt whether it was most conspicuous in the blaze of its ascendant, or the beauty of its Occident. His name attained to an elevation of sublimer altitude than any that is known to the registry of fame. For him history has no peers, and futurity no oblivion. If mind and its development in action is the test of greatness, then was Napoleon surpassingly great. He was the instrument of good, and Europe may long bless his advent ; yet Azrael himself is not a more fell destroyer than was Bona- parte. He was the minister of misery, and the great high priest of suffering. Emotions on returning to the United States. Legak6, Sir, I dare not trust myself to speak of my country with the rapture which I habitually feel when I contemplate her marvel- ous history. But this I will say, that, on my return to it, after an absence of only four years, I was filled with wonder at all 1 saw and all I heard. What is to be compared with it? I found \ew York grown up to almost double its former size, with the air of a great capital instead of a mere flourishing commercial town, as I had known it. I listened to accounts of voyages of a thousand miles, in magnificent steamboats, on the waters of those great lakes, which, bill the other day, I left sleeping in the prime- val silence of nature, in the recesses of a vast wilderness; and I felt t l nt there are a grandeur and a majesty in this irrcsiiltb'e j 32 ROSS'S SPEAKER. onward march of a race — created, as I believe, and elected, to possess and people a continent — which belong to few other ob- jects, either of the moral or material world. We may become so much accustomed to such things, that they shall make as little impression upon our minds as the glories of the heavens above us ; but, looking on them lately a? with the eye of the stranger, I felt, what a recent English traveler is said to have remarked, that, far from being without poetry, as some have vainly alleged, our whole country is one great poem. Sir, it is so ; and if there be a man that can think of what is doing, .n all parts of this most blessed of all lands, to embellish and advance it — who can contemplate that living mass of intelli- gence, activity, and improvement, as it rolls on in its sure and steady progress to the uttermost extremities of the west — who can see scenes of savage desolation transformed, almost with the suddenness of enchantment, into those of fruitfulness and beauty, crowned with flourishing cities filled with the noblest of all pop- ulations — if there be a man, I say, that can witness all this passing under his very eyes, without feeling his heart beat high and his imagination warmed and transported by it, be sure, sir, that the raptures of song exist not for him ; he would listen in vain to Tasso or Camoens, telling a tale of the wars of knights and crusaders, or of the discovery and conquest of another hemisphere. William Tell on Switzerland. — J. s. Knowleb. Once Switzerland was free. With what a pride I used to walk these hills, look up to heaven, And bless God that it was so ! It was free From end to end ; from cliff to lake 'twas free. Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks And plow our valleys without asking leave ; Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow In very presence of the regal sun. How happy was I in it then ! I loved Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake, The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge The wind came roaring — I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master save his own. IN FAVOR OF PROSECUTING THE WAR. 133 You know the jutting cliff, round which a track Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow To such another one, with scanty room For two abreast to pass ? O'ertaken there By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, And while gust followed gust more furiously, As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, And I have thought of other lands, whose storms Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just Have wished me there — the thought that mine was free Has checked that wish ; and I have raised my head, And cried in thralldom to that furious wind, " Blow on ! This is the land of liberty." In Favor of prosecuting the War. Henry Clay When the administration was striving, by the operation ol peaceful measures, to bring Great Britain back to a sense of justice, the gentlemen of the opposition were for old-fashioned war. And, now they have got old-fashioned war, their sensibili- ties are cruelly shocked, and all their sympathies lavished upon the harmless inhabitants of the adjoining provinces. What does a state of war present? The united energies of one people arrayed against the combined energies of another ; a conflict in which each party aims to inflict all the injury it can, by sea and land, upon the territories, property, and citizens of the other, subject only to the rules of mitigated war practiced by civilized nations. The gentlemen would not touch the continental prov- inces of the enemy, nor, I presume, for the same reason, her issions in the West Indies. The same humane spirit would spare the seamen and soldiers of the enemy. The sacred per- son of liis majesty must not be attacked, for the learned gentle- iii' -n on the other side are quite familiar with the maxim that the king can do no wrmi^. Indeed, sir, I know of no person on whom we may make war, upon the principles of the honorable gentlemen. hut Mr. Stephen, the celebrated author of the orders in council, or the board of admiralty, who authorize and regulate the practice of impressment The di of the war admonish us, we are told, of the ne- cessity of terminating the contest )f our achievements by land have been less splendid than those of our intrepid seamen by 134 ROSS'S SPEAKER. water, it is not because the American soldier is less brave. On tne one element, organization, discipline, and a thorough knowl- edge of their duties exist on the part of the officers and their men. On the other, almost every thing is yet to be acquired. We have, however, the consolation that our country abounds with the richest materials, and that in no instance, when engaged in action, have our arms been tarnished. An honorable peace is attainable only by an efficient war. My plan would be, to call out the ample resources of the coun- try, give them a judicious direction, prosecute the war with the utmost vigor, strike wherever we can reach the enemy, at sea or on land, and negotiate the terms of a peace at Quebec or at Halifax. We are told that England is a proud and lofty nation, which, disdaining to wait for danger, meets it half way. Haugh- ty as she is, we once triumphed over her ; and, if we do not listen to the counsels of timidity and despair, we shall again prevail. In such a cause, with the aid of Providence, we must come out crowned with success ; but, if we fail, let us fail like men — lash ourselves to our gallant tars, and expire together in one common struggle, righting for free trade and seamen's rights. The American Flag. — New Orleans Cbescwt. Fling out the nation's stripes and stars, The glorious standard of the free, The banner borne through freedom's wars, The hallowed gem of liberty. On mountain top, in valley deep, Wherever dwell the free and brave, O'er graves where freedom's martyrs sleep, Columbia's flag must freely wave. Raise high the bright, auspicious flag, From every hight and lowly glen, In forest dell, on jutting crag, Afar among the hearts of men. The sparkling banner, widely flung Shall proudly wave o'er land and sea; And freedom's anthem, sweetly sung, Shall swell our country's jubilee. O, let the world that flag behold, The emblem of the brave and free DEFENCE OF JEFFERSON. 135 Tne brightest crown of streaming gold That decks the goddess Liberty. Spread out its folds, till heaven's dome Reverberates the holy sound, That all oppressed have found a home On freedom's consecrated ground. Fling out our country's banner wide, Our emblematic starry gem ; Our Union never shall divide, While floats that silken diadem. Year after year the brilliant stars Shall indicate the strength of all ; Let all beware of civil wars, That curse of monarchs, freedom's fall. Defence of Jefferson. — Henry Clay, Next to the notice which the opposition has found itself called upon to bestow upon the French emperor, a distinguished citizen of Virginia, formerly President of the United States, has never for a moment failed to receive their kindest and most respectful attention. An honorable gentleman from Massachusetts, of whom 1 am sorry to say it becomes necessary for me, in the course of my remarks, to take some notice, has alluded to him in a remark- able manner. Neither his retirement from public office, his eminent services, nor his advanced age, can exempt this patriot from the coarse assaults of party malevolence. No, sir. In 1801 he snatched from the rude hand of usurpation the violated constitution of his country, and that is his crime. He preserved thai instrument, in form, and substance, and spirit, a precious inheritance for generations to come; and for this he can never be forgiven. How vain and impotent is party rage, directed against such a man ! He is not more elevated by his lofty resi- dence upon the summit of his own favorite mountain, than he is lifted, by the serenity of his mind and the consciousness of a well-spent life above the malignant passions and hitter feelings if the day. No: his own beloved Monticello is not less moved \\c storms thai IumI against its sides, than is tins illustrious man by the bowlings of the whole British pack lit loose from 'he Essex kennel. When the gentleman to whom I have been compelled to allude shall \\i re mingled his dust with that of his ,36 KOSS'S SPEAKEK. abused ancestors — when he shall have been consigned to obliv- ion, or, if he lives at all, shall live only in the treasonable annals of a certain junto — the name of Jefferson will be hailed with gratitude, his memory honored and cherished as the second founder of the liberties of the people, and the period of his ad- ministration will be looked back to as one of the happiest and brightest epochs of American history. The Noblest Public Virtue. — henry Clay, There is a sort of courage, which, I frankly confess it, I do not possess ; a boldness to which I dare not aspire ; a valor which I can not covet. I can not lay myself down in the way of the welfare and happiness of my country. That I can not, I have not the courage to do. I can not interpose the power with which [ may be invested — a power conferred, not for my personal benefit, nor for my aggrandizement, but for my country's good — to check her onward march to greatness and glory. I have not courage enough. I am too cowardly for that. I would not, I dare not, in the exercise of such a threat, lie down and place my body across the path that leads my country to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of courage widely different from that which a man may display in his private conduct and personal re- lations. Personal or private courage is totally distinct from that higher and nobler courage which prompts the patriot to offer him- self a voluntary sacrifice to his country's good. Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness some- times impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable and of- fensive in private life, are vices which partake of the character of crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions can not see beyond the little, petty, con- temptible circle of his own personal interests. All his thoughts are withdrawn from his country, and concentrated on his consist- ency, his firmness, himself. The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism which, soaring towards heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought of the good and the glory of one's country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. That patri- otism which, catching its inspirations from the immortal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below all lesser, grov- ON THE INDEPENDENCE OF GliEECE. 13? eiing, personal interests and feelings, animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, and of death itself — that is public virtue ; that is the noblest, the sublimest of ah public virtues. On Recognizing the Independence of Greece. Hensy Clay, Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not ex- press our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most brutal and ferocious war that ever stained earth or shocked high Heav- en with the atrocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, set on by the clergy and followers of a fanatical and mimical religion, rioting in excess of blood and butchery, at the mere details of whicl the heart sickens ? If the great mass of Christendom can look coolly and calmly on while all this is perpetrated on a Christian people in their own vicinity, in their very presence, let us, at least, show that in this distant extremity there is still some sensi- bility and sympathy for Christian wrongs and sufferings — that there are still feelings which can kindle into indignation at the oppression of a people endeared to us by every ancient recollec- tion and every modern tie. But, sir, it is not first and chiefly fur Greece that I wish to see this measure adopted. It will give them but little aid — that aid purely of a moral kind. It is, indeed, soothing and solacing in distress to hear the accents of a friendly voice. We know this as a people. But, sir, it is principally and mainly for America herself, for the credit and character of our common country, that I hope to see this reso- lution pass ; it is for our own unsullied name that I feel. What appearance, sir, on the page of history would a record like this make ! — "In the month of January, in the year of our Lord and Saviour 1824, while all European Christendom beheld with cold, unfeeling apathy the unexampled wrongs and inex- pressible misery of Christian Greece, a proposition was made in the Congress of the United States — almost the sole, the last, the greatest repository of human hope and of human freedom ; the representatives of a nation capable of bringing into the field a million of bayonets — while the freemen of that nation were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling, its fervent prayer f or Grecian success; while the whole continent was rising, by one simultaneous motion, solemnly and anxiously supplicating und invoking the aid of Heaven to spare Greece and to invig- Drave her arms; while temples and senate houses were all re- 138 BOSS'S SPEAKER. rioundiag with one burst of generous sympathy ; in the year of our Lord and Saviour — that Saviour alike of Christian Greece and of us — a proposition was offered in the American Congress to send a messenger to Greece to inquire into her state and condition, with an expression of our good wishes and our sym- pathies, and it was rejected ! " Go home, if you dare — go home, if you can — to your constituents, and tell them that you voted it down. Meet, if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declaration of your own sentiments ; that you can not tell how, but that some unknown dread, some indescribable appre- hension, some indefinable danger, affrighted you ; that the spec- ters of cimeters, and crowns, and crescents gleamed before you and alarmed you ; and that you suppressed all the noble feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by national independence, and by humanity. I can not bring myself to believe that such will be the feeling of a majority of this house. The Advice of Polonius to his Son. — Shaksmlum. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of ev'ry new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware Of entrance into quarrel ; but, being in, Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment- Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy ; For the apparel oft proclaims the man. Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This, above all — to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. PERPETUAL VIGILANCE THE PRICE OF LIBERTY. 139 Pervetual Vigilance the Price of Liberty. John C. Calhodn, We make a great mistake in supposing all people capable of self-government. Acting under that impression, many are anx ious to force free governments on all the people of this conti- nent, and over the world, if they had the power. It has been lately urged, in a very respectable quarter, that it is the mission of this country to spread civil and religious liberty over all the globe, and especially over this continent, even by force, if neces- sary. It is a sad delusion. None but a people advanced to a high state of moral and intellectual excellence are capable, in a civilized condition, of forming and maintaining free govern- ments ; and, among those who are so far advanced, very few indeed have had the good fortune to form constitutions capable of endurance. It is a remarkable fact in the political history of man, that there is scarcely an instance of a free constitutional government which has been the work exclusively of foresight and wisdom. They have all been the result of a fortunate com- bination of circumstances. It is a very difficult task to make a constitution worthy of being called so. This admirable federal constitution of ours is the result of such a combination. It is superior to the wisdom of any or of all the men by whose agen- cy it was made. The force of circumstances, and not foresight or wisdom, induced them to adopt many of its wisest provisions. But of the few nations who have been so fortunate as to adopt a wise constitution, still fewer have had the wisdom long to pre- serve one. It is harder to preserve than to obtain liberty. After years of prosperity, the tenure by which it is held is but too often forgotten ; and I fear, senators, that such is the case with us. There is no solicitude now for liberty. Who talks of liber ty when any great question comes up ? Here is a question of the first magnitude as to the conduct of this war ; do you heai any body talk about its effects upon our liberties and our free institutions ? No, sir. That was not the case formerly. In the early stages of our government, the great anxiety was, how to preserve liberty. The great anxiety now is for the attainment of mere military glory. In the one we are forgetting the other. The maxim of former times was, that power is always stealing from the many to the few ; the price of liberty was perpetual vigilance. They were constantly looking out and watching for danger. Not so now. Is it because there has been any decay of liberty among tin; people ? Nol at all. I believe the love of 140 KOSS'S SPEAKER. liberty was never more ardent; but they have forgotten the ten- ure of liberty, by which alone it is preserved. We think we may now indulge in every thing with impunity, as if we held our charter by " right divine" — from Heaven it- self. Under these impressions we plunge into war, we contract heavy debts, we increase the patronage of the executive, and we talk of a crusade to force our institutions of liberty upon all people. There is no species of extravagance which our people imagine will endanger their liberty in any degree. Sir, the hour is approaching, the day of retribution will come. It will come as certainly as I am now addressing the Senate ; and, when it does come, awful will be the reckoning, heavy the responsibility somewhere. On the Prospect of War. — John c. Calhoto, We are told of the danger of war. We are ready to ac- knowledge its hazard and misfortune, but I cannot think that we have any extraordinary danger to apprehend — at least, none to warrant an acquiescence in the mjuries we have received. On the contrary, I believe no war would be less dangerous to inter- nal peace or the safety of the country. In speaking of Canada, the gentleman from Virginia intro- duced the name of Montgomery with much feeling and interest. Sir, there is danger in that name to the gentleman's argument. It is sacred to heroism. It is indignant of submission. It calls our memory back to the time of our revolution, to the Congress of 1774 and 1775. Suppose a speaker of that day had risen and urged all the arguments which we have heard on this occa- sion ; had told that Congress, " Your contest is about the right of laying a tax ; the attempt on Canada has nothing to do with it ; the war will be expensive ; danger and devastation will over- spread our country, and the power of Great Britain is irresisti- ble." With what sentiment, think you, would such doctrines have been received? Happy for us, .they had no force at that period of our country's glory. Had such been acted on, this hall would never have witnessed a great people convened to de- liberate for the general good ; a mighty empire, with prouder prospects than any nation the sun ever shone on, would not have risen in the west. No ; we would have been vile, subjected colonies, governed by that imperious rod which Britain holds over her distant provinces. The gentleman is at a loss to account for what he calls our AGAINST THE FORCE BILL. 14 hatred to England. He asks, " How can we hate the country of Locke, of Newton, Hampden, and Chatham — a country having the same language and customs with ourselves, and descended from a common ancestry ? " Sir, the laws of human affections are steady and uniform. If we have so much to attach us to that country, powerful, indeed, must be the cause which has overpowered it. Yes, sir, there is a cause strong enough. Not that occult, courtly affection which he has supposed to be enter- tained for France, but continued and unprovoked insult and injury ; a cause so manifest, that the gentleman had to exert much ingenuity to overlook it. But, in his eager admiration of that country, he has not been sufficiently guarded in his argu- ment. Has he reflected on the cause of that admiration ? Has he examined the reasons of our high regard for her Chatham ? It is his ardent patriotism ; his heroic courage, which could not brook the least insult or injury offered to his country, but thought that her interest and honor ought to be vindicated, be the hazard and expense what they might. I hope when we are called on to admire, we shall also be asked to imitate. Against the Force Bill. — John C. Calhoun, It is said that the bill ought to pass, because the law must be enforced. The law must be enforced ! The imperial edict must be executed ! It is under such sophistry, couched in gen- eral terms, without looking to the limitations which must ever exist in the practical exercise of power, that the most cruel and despotic acts ever have been covered. It was such sophistry as this that cast Daniel into the lions' den, and the three innocents into the fiery furnace. Under the same sophistry the bloody edicts of Nero and Caligula were executed. The law must be enforced ! Yes, the act imposing the tea tax " must be exe- cuted." This was the very argument which impelled Lord North and his administration in that mad career which forever sepa- rated us from the British crown. Under a similar sophistry, " that religion must be protected," how many massacres have been perpetrated, and how many martyrs have been tied to the stake ! What ! acting on this vague abstraction, are you pre- pared to enforce a law, without considering whether it be just or unjust, constitutional or unconstitutional ? Will you collect mon- ey when it is acknowledged thai it is not wanted? He who earns the money, who digs it from the earth with the sweat of (i 14fc ROSS'S SPEAKER. his brow, has a just title to it against the universe. No one has a right to touch it without his consent, except his government, and that, only to the extent of its legitimate wants. To take more is robbery; and you propose by this bill to enforce robbery by murder. Yes, to this result you must come, by this miserable sophistry, this vague abstraction of enforcing the law, without a regard to the fact whether the law be just or unjust, constitu- tional or unconstitutional. In the same spirit we are told that the Union must be pre- served, without regard to the means. And how is it proposed to preserve the Union ? By force. Does any man in his senses believe that this beautiful structure, this harmonious aggregate of states, produced by the joint consent of all, can be preserved by force ? Its very introduction would be the certain destruction of this Federal Union. No, no ! You can not keep the states united in their constitutional and federal bonds by force. Has reason fled from our borders ? Have we ceased to reflect ? It is madness to suppose that the Union can be preserved by force. I tell you plainly that the bill, should it pass, can not be enforced. It will prove only a blot upon your statute book, a reproach to the year, and a disgrace to the American Senate. I repeat that it will not be executed ; it will rouse the dormant spirit of the people, and open their eyes to the approach of despotism. The country has sunk into avarice and political corruption, from which nothing can arouse it but some measure, on the part of the government, of folly and madness, such as that now under con sideration. Time. — g. d. Prbntiob. Remorseless Time ! Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe ! What power Can stay him in his silent course, or melt His iron heart to pity ? On, still on He presses, and forever. The proud bird, The condor of the Andes, that can soar Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave The fury of the northern hurricane, And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home, Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag. But Time Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness, And night's deep darkness has no chain to bind THE PURSE AND THE SWORD. 143 His rushing pinions. Revolutions sweep O'er earth like troubled visions o'er the breast Of dreaming sorrow ; cities rise and sink Like bubbles on the water ; fiery isles Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back To their mysterious caverns ; mountains rear To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow Their tall heads to the plain ; new empires rise, Gathering the strength of hoary centuries, And rush down like the Alpine avalanche, Startling the nations ; and the very stars, Yon bright and burning blazonry of God. Glitter a while in their eternal depths, And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train, Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away To darkle in the trackless void. Yet Time, Time the tomb builder, holds his fierce career, Dark, stern, all-pitiless, and pauses not, Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path, To sit and muse, like other conquerors, Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought The Pwrse and the Sword. — John C. Calhoun, There was a time, in the better days of the republic, when to show what ought to be done was to insure the adoption of the measure. Those days have passed away, I fear, forever. A power has risen up in the government greater than the people themselves, consisting of nfcmy, and various, and powerful inter- ests, combined into one mass, and held together by the cohesive power of the vast surplus in the banks. This mighty combina- tion will be opposed to any change ; and it is to be feared that, such is its influence, no measure to which it is opposed can become a law, however expedient and necessary ; and that the public monev will remain in their possession, to be disposed of, not as the public interest, but as theirs, may dictate. The time, indeed, seems fast approaching when no law can pass, nor any honor can be conferred, from the chief magistrate to the tide waiter, without the assent of this powerful and interested combination, which is steadily becoming the government itself to ihe u"er subversion of the authority of the people. Nay, I fear we are in the midst of it; and I look with anxiety to the fate of this measure, as the test whether we are or not. 144 ROSS'S SPEAKER. If nothing should be done — if the money which justly belongs to the people be left where it is, with the many and overwhelm- ing objections to it — the fact will prove that a great and radical change has been effected; that the government is subverted; that the authority of the people is suppressed by a union of the banks and the executive — a union a hundred times more dan- gerous than that of church and state, against which the constitu- tion has so jealously guarded. It would be the announcement of a state of things from which, it is to be feared, there can be no recovery — a state of boundless corruption and the lowest and basest subserviency. It seems to be the order of Providence that, with the exception of these, a people may recover from any other evil. Piracy, robbery, and violence of* every description may, as history proves, be succeeded by virtue, patriotism, and national greatness ; but where is the example to be found of a degenerate, corrupt, and subservient people, who have ever re- covered their virtue and patriotism ? Their doom has ever been the lowest state of wretchedness and misery ; scorned, trodden down, and obliterated forever from the list of nations. May Heaven grant that such may never be our doom. Liberty the Meed of Intelligence. John C. Calhoun, Society can no more exist without government, in one form or another, than man without society. It is the political, then, which includes the social, that is his natural state. It is the one for which his Creator formed him, into which he is impelled irresistibly, and in which only his race can exist, and all his facul- ties be fully developed. Such being the case, it follows that any, the worst form of government is better than anarchy, and that individual liberty or freedom must be subordinate to whatever power may be necessary to protect society against anarchy with- in or destruction from without ; for the safety and well being of society are as paramount to individual liberty as the safety and well being of the race are to that of individuals ; and, in the same proportion, the power necessary for the safety of society is par- amount to individual liberty. On the contrary, government has no right to control individual liberty beyond what is necessary to the safety and well being of society. Such is the boundary which separates the power of government and the liberty of the citizen or subject in the political state, which as I hp.vo MUSIC. 14b shown, is the natural state of man, the only one in which his race can exist, and the one in which he is born, lives, and dies. It follows from all this that the quantum of power on the part of the government, and of liberty on that of individuals, instead of being equal in all cases, must necessarily be very unequal among different people, according to their different conditions. For just in proportion as a people are ignorant, stupid, debased, corrupt, exposed to violence within and danger without, the power necessary for government to possess, in order to preserve societ" against anarchy and destruction, becomes greater and greatei and individual liberty less and less, until the lowest condition is reached, when absolute and despotic power becomes necessary on the part of the government, and individual liberty extinct. So, on the contrary, just as a people rise in the scale of intelli- gence, virtue, and patriotism, and the more perfectly they become acquainted with the nature of government, the ends for which it was ordered, and how it ought to be administered, and the less the tendency to violence and disorder within and danger from abroad, the power necessary for government becomes less and . and individual liberty greater and greater. Instead, then, of all men having the same right to liberty and equality, as is claimed by those who hold that they are all born free and equal, liberty is the noblest and highest reward bestowed on mental and moral development, combined with favorable circumstances. Instead, then, of liberty and equality being born with man, — instead of all men, and all classes and descriptions, being equally entitled to them, — they are high prizes to be won; and are, in their most perfect state, not only the highest reward that can be bestowed on our race, but the most difficult to be won, and, when won, the most difficult to be preserved. Music. — Shakspeabe. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, B 11 music for the time doth change its nature. The man thai hath no music in himself, Nor is nol moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is lit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit arc dull as night. And his affections dark as Erebus: Lei no Buch man be trtiBted 10 146 ROSS'S SPEAKER Lines. — Wordsworth My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky : So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die. The child is father of the man ; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. Genius. What is genius ? 'Tis a flame Kindling all the human frame ; 'Tis a ray that lights the eye, Soft in love, in battle high ; 'Tis the lightning of the mind, Unsubdued and undefined ; 'Tis the flood that pours along The full, clear melody of song ; 'Tis the sacred boon of Heaven, To its choicest favorites given. They who feel can paint it well. What is genius ? Byron, tell ! Portraiture of S. S. Prentiss. — J. G. Bam>win, There was no element of oratory that Prentiss's genius did not supply. It was plain to see whence his boyhood had drawn its romantic inspiration. His imagination was colored and im- bued with the light of the shadowy past, and was richly stored with the unreal but life-like creations which the genius of Shaks- peare and Scott had evoked from the ideal world. He had lin- gered spell-bound among the scenes of medieval chivalry. His spirit had dwelt, until almost naturalized, in the mystic dream- ,and they peopled — among paladins, and crusaders, and knight? templars. PORTRAITURE OF S. S. PRENTISS. 14* He could speak the thoughts of poetry with the inspiration of oratory and the tones of music. The fluency of his speech was unbroken — no syllable unpronounced — not a ripple on the smooth and brilliant tide. Probably he never hesitated for a word in his life. His diction adapted itself without effort to the thought ; now easy and familiar, now stately and dignified, now beautiful and various as the hues of the rainbow ; again compact, even rugged in sinewy strength, and lofty and grand in eloquent declamation. His face and manner were alike uncommon. The turn of his head was like Byron's ; the face and the action were just what the mind made them. The excitement of the features, the motions of the head and body, the gesticulation he used, were all in absolute harmony with the words you heard. You saw and took cognizance of the general effect only ; the particular instrumentalities did not strike you ; they certainly did not call off attention to themselves. How a countenance so redolent of good humor as his at times could so soon be overcast, and ex- press such intense bitterness, seemed a marvel. But bitterness and the angry passions were probably as strongly implanted in him as any other sentiments or qualities. There was much about him to remind you of Byron : the cast of head, the classic features, the fiery and restive nature, the moral and personal daring, the imaginative and poetical temper- ament, the scorn and deep passion, the deformity of which 1 have spoken, the satiric wit, the craving for excitement and the air of melancholy he sometimes wore, his early neglect and the imagined slights put upon him in his unfriended youth, the col- lisions, mental and physical, which he had with others, his bril- liant and sudden reputation, and the romantic interest which invested him, make up a list of correspondences still farther increased, alas ! by his untimely death. He is gone. He died, and lies buried near that noble river which first, when a raw Yankee boy, caught his poetic eye, and stirred by its aspect of grandeur his sublime imagination ; upon whose shores first fell his burning and impassioned words, as they aroused the rapturous applause of his astonished auditors. And long will that noble river flow out its tide into the gulf, ere the roar of its current shall mingle with ihe tones of such elo- quence again — eloquence •'- full and majestic, as resistless and sublime, and as wild in iis sweep as its own sea-like flocd. r iver R*.ll« minglii Kifl fame fv.rever." 148 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Mississippi Contested Election. — s. s. Pebniim, Sir, if you consummate this usurpation, you degrade the State of Mississippi ; and if she submits, never again can she wear the lofty look of conscious independence. Burning shame will set its seal upon her brow ; and when her proud sons travel in other lands, they will blush at the history of her dishonor, as it falls from the sneering lip of the stranger. Sir, place her not in that terrible and trying position, in which her love for this glorious Union will be found at v/ar with her own honor and the para- mount obligation which binds her to transmit to the next genera- tion, untarnished and undiminished, her portion of that rich legacy of the revolution, which was bought with blood, and which should never be parted with for a price less than what it cost. Is there a state in this Union that would part with it — that would submit to have her representatives chosen by this house, and forced upon her against her will ? Come, what says the Bay State, time-honored Massachusetts 7 From the cradle in which young Liberty was first rocked, even from old Faneuil Hall, comes forth her ready answer ; and before it dies away, again it is repeated from Bunker Hill — " It was for this very right of representation our fathers fought the battles of the revolution, and ere we will surrender this dear-bought right, those battles shall again become dread realities." Would Kentucky submit ? Ask her, Mr. Speaker, and her Mammoth Cavern will find a voice to thunder in your ear her stern re- sponse — " No ; sooner than submit to such an outrage, our soil shall be rebaptized with a new claim to the proud but melan- choly title of the dark and bloody ground.' 1 ' 1 And what says Virginia, with her high device — her " sic semper tyrannis" .he loftiest motto that ever blazed upon a warrior's shield or a nation's arms ? How would she brook such usurpation ? What says the mother of states and state-right doctrines — she who has placed instruction as a guardian over representation ? What says she to the proposition that this house can make representa- tives and force them upon a state ii violation of its choice and will ? And where is South Carolina, the Hurry Percy of the Union ? On which side, in this great controversy, does she couch tier lance and draw her blade ? I trusl upon the side of her sister state ; upon the side, too, of the constitutional righta of all the states ; and let her lend the full strength of her good right arm to the blow, when she strikes in so righteous a quarreJ LAFAYETTE'S VISIT TO AMERICA. 149 Upon all the states I do most solemnly call for that justice -o an- other which they would expect for themselves Let this cup pass from Mississippi. Compel her not to drink its bitter ingre- dients, lest, some day, " even-handed justice shou d commend the poisoned chalice to your own lips." Rescind that resolution, which presses like a foul incubus upon the constitution. You sit here, twenty-five sovereign states, in judgment upon the most sa- cred right of a sister state. Should you decide against her, you tear from her brow the richest jewel which sparkles there, and forever bow her head in shame and dishonor. But if your de- termination is taken — if the blow must fall — if the violated constitution must bleed — I have but one request on her behalf to make. When you decide that she can not choose her own representation, at that self same moment blot from the spangled banner of this Union the bright star that glitters to the name of Mississippi, but leave the stripe behind, a fit emblem of hei degradation. Lafayette's Visit to America. — s. s. Prentisb. In 1824, on Sunday, a single ship furled her snowy sails in the harbor of New York. Scarcely had her prow touched the shore, when a murmur was heard among the multitude, which gradually deepened into a mighty shout, and that shout was a shout of joy. Again and again were the heavens rent with the inspiring sound. Nor did it cease ; for the loud strain was car- ried from city to city, and from state to state, till not a tongue was silent throughout this wide republic, from the lisping infant to the tremulous old man. All were united in one wild shout of gratulation. The voices of more than ten millions of freemen gushed up towards the sky, and broke the stillness of its silent rlepths. But one note and but one tone went to form this accla- mation. Up in those pure regions clearly and sweetly did it sound — " Honor to Lafayette ! Welcome to the nation's guest ! " It was Lafayette, the war-worn veteran, whose arrival upon our shores had caused this wide-spread, this universal joy. He came among us to behold the independence and the freedom which his young arm had so well assisted in achieving; and never before rliil eve behold, or heart of man conceixe, such homage paid to virtue. His whole stay amongst us was a continued triumph. Every day's march was an ovation. The United States became for months one great festive hall. People forgot the usual occupa G * 150 ROSS'S SPEAKER. nous of lfe, and crowded to behold the benefactor of mankind The iron-hearted, gray-haired veterans of the revolution thronged around him, to touch his hand, to behold his face, and to call down Heaven's benison upon their old companion in arms. Lisp- ing infancy and garrulous age, beauty, talents, wealth, and power, all for a while forsook their usual pursuits, and united to pay a willing tribute of gratitude and welcome to the nation's guest. The name of Lafayette was upon every lip, and wherever was his name, there too was an invocation for blessings on his head. What were the triumphs of the classic ages, compared with this unbought love and homage of a mighty people ? Take them in Rome's best days, when the invincible generals of the Eternal City returned from their foreign conquests with captive kings bound to their chariot wheels, and the spoils of nations in their train — followed by their stern and bearded warriors, and sur- rounded by the interminable multitudes of the seven-hilled city shouting a fierce welcome home — what was such a triumph, compared with that of Lafayette ? Not a single city, but a whole nation rising as one man, and greeting him with an affectionate embrace. One single day of such spontaneous homage were worth whole years of courtly adulation ; one hour might well reward a man for a whole life of danger and of toil. Then, too, the joy with which he must have viewed the prosperity of the people for whom he had so heroically struggled — to behold the nation which he had left a little child now grown up in the full proportions of lusty manhood — to see the tender sapling, which he had left with hardly shade enough to cover its own roots, now waxing into the sturdy and unwedgeable oak, beneath whose grateful um- brage the oppressed of all nations find shelter and protection. That oak still grows on in its majestic strength, and wider and wider still extend its mighty branches. But the hand that wa- tered and nourished it while yet a tender plant is now cold ; the heart that watched with strong affection its early growth has ceased to beat. Death of Lafayette. — s. s. Pbentiss. Death, who knocks with equal hand at the door of the cottage and the palace gate, has been busy at his appointed work. Mourning prevails throughout the land, and the countenances of all are shrouded in the mantle of regret. Far across the wild Atlantic, amid the pleasant vineyards in the sunny land of DEATH OF LAFAYETTE. 151 France, there too is mourning, and the weeds of sorrow are alike worn by prince and peasant. And against whom has the monarch of the tomb turned his remorseless dart, that such wide- spread sorrow should prevail ? Hark ! and the agonized voice of Freedom, weeping for her favorite son, will tell you, in strains sadder than those with which she shrieked at Kosciusko's fall, that Lafayette, the gallant and the good, has ceased to live. The friend and companion of Washington is no more. He who taught the eagle of our country, while yet unfledged, to plume his young wing and mate his talons with the lion's strength, has taken his flight far beyond the stars, beneath whose influence he fought so well. Lafayette is dead. The gallant ship, whose pennon has so often bravely streamed above the roar of battle and the tempest's rage, has at length gone slowly down in the still and quiet waters. Well mightst thou, O Death, now recline beneath the laurels thou hast won, and for a while forego thy re- lentless task ; for never, since, as the grim messenger of almighty vengeance, thou earnest into this world, did a more generous heart cease to heave beneath thy chilling touch, and never will thy insatiable dart be hurled against a nobler breast. Who does not feel, at the mournful intelligence, as if he had lost something cheering from his own path through life ? as if some bright star, at which he had been accustomed frequently and fondly to gaze, had been suddenly extinguished in the firmament ? The page of history abounds with those who have struggled forth from the nameless crowd, and, standing forward in the front ranks, challenged the notice of their fellow-men. But when, in obedience to their bold demands, we examine their claims to our admiration, how seldom do we find aught that ex- cites our respect or commands our veneration ! With what pleasure do we turn from the contemplation of the Caesars and Napoleons of the human race to meditate upon the character of Lafayette ! We feel proud that we belong to the same spe- cies, we feel proud that we live in the same age, and we feel still more proud that our own country drew forth and nurtured those generous virtues which went to form a character that, for love of liberty, romantic chivalry, unbounded generosity, and unwavering integrity, has never had a parallel. The Same, concluded. ViP'UE forms no shield to ward off the arrows of death. Could it have availed, even when joined with the prayers of a 15U, ROSS'S SPEAKER. whole civilized world, then, indeed, this mournful occasion would never have occurred, and the life of Lafayette would have been as eternal as his fame. Yet, though he has passed from among us — though that countenance will no more be seen that used to lighten up the van of freedom's battles as he led her eaglets tc their feast — still has he left behind his better part, the legacy of his bright example, the memory of his deeds. The lisping in- fant will learn to speak his venerated name. The youth of every country will be taught to look upon his career and follow in his footsteps. When, hereafter, a gallant people are fighting for freedom against the oppressor, and their cause begins to wane before the mercenary bands of tyranny, then will the name of Lafayette become a watchword that will strike with terror on the tyrant's ear, and nerve with redoubled vigor the freeman's arm. At that name many a heart before unmoved will wake in the glorious cause ; many a sword, rusting ingloriously in its scab- bard, will leap forth to battle. And, even amid the mourning with which our souls are shrouded, is there not some room for gratulation 3 Our departed friend and benefactor has gone down to the grave, peacefully and quietly, at a good old age. He had per- formed his appointed work. His virtues were ripe. He had done nothing to sully his fair fame. No blot or soil of envy or calumny can now affect him. His character will stand upon the pages of history pure and unsullied as the lilied emblem on his country's banner. He has departed from among us, but he has become again the companion of Washington. He has but left the friends of his old age to associate with the friends of his youth. Peace be to his ashes. Calm and quiet may they rest upon some vine-clad hill of his own beloved land ; and it shall be called the Mount Vernon of France. And let no cunning sculpture, no monumental marble, deface with its mock dignity the patriot's grave ; but rather let the unpruned vine, the wild flower, and the free song of the uncaged bird — all that speaks of freedom and of peace — be gathered round it. Lafayette needs no mausoleum. His fame is mingled with a nation's his- tory. His epitaph is engraved upon the hearts of men. Toasting. — S. S Prentiss. Perhaps the most remarkable property of toasting is its won derful facility in making great, men. It was the ane'ent opinion OKANIOLOGY. 153 — though one which has long been exploded — that, to be great, a man must have performed some great, virtuous, or noble ac- tion — must have shown, either mentally or physically, some supe- riority over his fellow-beings. Now, thank Heaven, nothing of this sort is required ; for the whole secret of greatness is com- prised in the single word notoriety; and the most approvea method of becoming notorious is by toasting. Does a man wish to become notorious, — that is, great, — he gets a friend to propose his health at some public dinner, with an enumeration of all the good qualities he does not possess. The people, filled almost to bursting with the fat things prepared for them, over- flowing with charity and good liquor, drink the health with great applause ; which is elicited, however, in most cases, not by the person, but by the flavor of the wine. Fired by such manifest signs of popular favor, the candidate for greatness rises, and assures them, very truly, that they are pleased to honor him more than he deserves ; that modesty would induce him to be silent, but his heart (he had better say his stomach) is too full for restraint ; that no sacrifices would be too great for their kindness towards him ; that he would go even to Congress, for the love he bears his country ; he assures them that the United States is the greatest nation on the globe, — his own state the first in the Union — the county in which they are eating the best in the state — at the same time modesth insinuating that he is himself the greatest man in the county — and, finally, winds up by proposing himself a candidate for the next election. The people are astonished to find they have had so great a man amongst them without ever dreaming of it ; and they send him to Congress forthwith. Thus sure and easy is the toasting path to greatness. Craniology. — 8. s. Pkbntiss. Thk god Momus found fault with Jupiter for not placing a window in the heart of man; which would have enabled one, merely by looking in at it, to have ascertained a person's charac- ter as well at fi'-' sight as after a dozen years' acquaintance. Mankind have sanctioned the criticism of the heathen deity; as 's manifested by the greal pains they are continually taking for finding out the real Bentiments of their fellow-beings. It is to their anxiety on tin- subjeel thai we owe the various theories which have, from time to time, >■ i n broached for discovering a 154 KOSS'S SPEAKEli. man's character by outward signs or appearances. Thus Lava- ter considered the features, and the various and complex lines upon the countenance, as the true handwriting of Nature, which she hath affixed as a label upon the face — precisely as an apothecary marks upon a vial the nature of its contents. Within a few years, craniology has been made to answer the purpose oi the window of Momus ; and the human head, like ^he United States, is divided off into a number of independent bumps, which have, however, a reciprocal influence upon each other. The character of eacn of these bumps is as well ascer- tained as that of the people of any of the aforesaid states, and the character of the individual is made up by a compound of them all — each bump being taxed for this purpose just in pro- portion to its bigness. Now, although it is a digression, I can not help observing, what a wonderful argument this system affords in favor of a republican form of government, showing that Na- ture herself has chosen it as the best, in her arrangement of the human mind. Take an example : suppose that, like honest Jack Falstaff, my bump of discretion exceeds my bump of valor, and that some one insults me ; the community of Courage, residing in the bump of Valor, is immediately enraged, and rises in arms to punish the aggressor : but, " Stop," cry the cautious, though more numerous citizens of the commonwealth of Discretion, " most haughty Valor • we don't choose to be dragged into this contest ; if you wish to fight, you must fight it out alone : for ourselves, we have advised with counsel, and intend taking the law of the fellow." At this remonstrance, the community of Courage lay down their arms, like good citizens, obedient to the will of the majority. But to return. Though 1 have great belief in physiognomy, and though I doubt not that the rapid development of intellect may force out corresponding protuberances of the cranium, just as we see mountains arise on the face of the globe by the opera- tion of internal fire, yet both these theories are so liable to error, the exceptions to the general rule are so numerous, that I have been led to try some other method of getting out a man's true character. Virginia Patriotism. — J. G. Baxdwih. '6 The disposition to be proud and vain of one's country, and to boast of it, is a natural feeling, indulged or not, in respecJ to thn VIRGINIA PATRIOTISM. 155 pride, vanity, and boasting, according to the character of the native : but with a Virginian, it is a passion. It inheres in him even as the flavor of a York River oyster in that bivalve, and no distance of deportation, and no trimmings of a gracious pros- perity, and no pickling in the sharp acids of adversity, can de- stroy it. It is a part of the Virginia character, — just as tho flavor is a distinctive part of the oyster, — " which can not, save by annihilating, die." It is no use talking about it — the thing may be right, or wrong : like FalstafT's victims at Gadshill, it .s past praying for : it is a sort of cocoa grass that has got into the soil, and has so matted over it, and so fiber ed through it, as to have become a part of it ; at least, there is no telling which is the grass and which is the soil ; and certainly it is useless labor to try to root it out. You may destroy the soil, but you can't root out the grass. Patriotism with a Virginian is a noun personal. It is the Virginian himself and something over. He loves Virginia per se and propter se : he loves her for herself and for himself — because she is Virginia and — every thing else beside. He loves to talk about her : " Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." It makes no odds where he goes, he carries Vir- ginia with him ; not in the entirety always, — but the little spot he came from is Virginia, — as Swedenborg says, " The smallest part of the brain is an abridgment of all of it." " Caelum, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare cur runt , " '* was made for a Vir- ginian. He never gets acclimated elsewhere ; he never loses citizenship to the old home. The right of expatriation is a pure i\bstraction to him. He may breathe in Alabama, but he lives in Virginia. His treasure is there, and his heart also. If he looks at the Delta of the Mississippi, it reminds him of James River " low grounds ; " if he sees the vast prairies of Texas, it is a memorial of the meadows of " the Valley." Richmond is the centre of attrac- tion, the depot of all that is grand, great, good, and glorious. The Same, concluded. There is nothing presumptuous y froward in this Virginianism. The Virginian does not make broad his phylacteries, and crow over the pour Carolinian and Tennesseean. He does not re- proach him with bis misfortune of birthplace. No; he thinks the • Tbofw who < ions the aea change ihi dl &to, but uot thair mind. — Horace J 56 BOSS'S SPEAKER affliction is enough without the triumph. The franchise of hav ing been born in Virginia, and the prerogative founded thereon, are too patent of honor and distinction to be arrogantly pre- tended. The bare mention is enough. He finds occasion to let the fact be known, and then the fact is fully able to protect and take care of useif. Like a ducal title, there is no need of saying more than to name it : modesty, then, is a becoming and ex- pected virtue ; forbearance to boast is true dignity. The Virginian is a magnanimous man. He never throws up to a Yankee the fact of his birthplace. He feels on the subject as a man of delicacy feels in alluding to a rope in the presence of a person, one of whose brothers " stood upon nothing and kicked at the United States ; " and so far do they carry this re- finement, that I have known one of my countrymen, on occasion of a Bostonian owning where he was born, generously protest that he had never heard of it before ; as if honest confession half obliterated the shame of the fact. Yet he does not lack the grace to acknowledge worth or merit in another, wherever the native place of that other ; for it is a common thing to hear them say of a neighbor, " He is a clever fellow, though he did come from New Jersey, or even from Connecticut." * * * It is not, however, to be denied, that Virginia is the land of orators, heroes, and statesmen ; and that, directly or indirectly, she has exerted an influence upon the national councils nearly as great as all the rest of the states combined. It is wonderful that a state of its size and population should have turned out such an unprecedented quantum of talent, and of talent as various in kind as prodigious in amount. She has reason to be proud ; and the other states, so largely in her debt, ought, therefore, tc allow her the harmless privilege of a little bragging. Henry Clay.— Axon. Pride of the West ! whose clarion tone Thrilled grandly through her forest lone And waked to bounding life the shore Where darkness only sat before ; How millions bent before thy shrine, Beholding there a light divine — Caught on the golden chain of love, Fiom its majestic course above. HENRY CLAY. 15? Star of our Hope ! when Battle's call Had wove the soldier's gory pall — When, blazing o'er the troubled seas, Death came tumultuous on the breeze, And men beheld Columbia's frame Scorched by the lurid levin flame — Thou, thou didst pour the patriot strain,* And thrilled with it each bleeding vein, Until the star-lit banner streamed Like tempest fires around the foe, Whose crimson cross no longer gleamed In triumph where it erst had beamed, But sunk beneath our gallant blow. Sun of the Free ! where Summer smiles Eternal o'er the clustered isles — Where Greece unsheathed her olden blade For glory in the haunted shade — Where Chimborazo, stands sublime, A landmark by the sea of Timet — Thy name shall, as a blessing given For man, O ! never to depart, Peal from our gladdened earth to heaven — The warm, wild music of the heart. Pride of the Just ! what though dark Hate Her frenzied storm around thee rolls ; Has it not ever been the fate Of all this earth's truth-speaking souls ? Lightnings may play upon the rock Whose star-kissed forehead wooes the gale, While they escape the thunder shock Who dwell within the lonely vale — Living unnoted ! — not so thou, Chief of the fearless soul and brow ; Yet let the lightning and the storm Beat on thy long-devoted form ; The silvery daydream bursts, and lo, Around thee curls the promise-bow. Look ! on yon heighl Columbia stands, Immortal laurels in her hands; * Alluding to I iWir.m In i' .iiKri-HR during the Uto t \\, iceln advocacy of Greta American independence! .. war. redan and Bontk i.»>8 ROSS'S SPEAKER. And hark her voice — " Rise ! Freemen, rise ! Unloose the chain from every breast ; See, see the splendor in yon skies, Flashed from the bosom of the west ! n Roused at the sound, lo, millions leap Like giants from inglorious sleep. What cries are here ? What sounds prevail ? Whose name is thundering on the gale ? — (Far in the mountains of the north, Far in the sunny south away, A winged luster bounding forth) The deathless name of Henry Clay ! Henry Clay's Last Speech, made during his Last Illness, in an Interview with Louis Kossuth. [We find the following report of the interview between these two dis- tinguished men in the National Intelligencer. It was written by Hon. Presley Ewing, of Kentucky, and revised by Senator Jones, of Tennessee, both of whom were present, together with General Cass, and Mr. Fendal, of Washington City : — M. Kossuth was introduced by Mr. Cass at about three o'clock, and, on being presented to Mr. Clay, who rose to receive him, said, " Sir, I thank you for the honor of this interview." " I beg you to believe," said Mr. Clay, interrupting him, "that it is I who am honored. Will you be pleased to be seated ? " Alter the mutual interchange of civilities, — "I owe you, sir," said Mr. Clay, " an apology for not having acceded before to the desire you were kind enough to intimate more than once to see me. But really my health has been so feeble that I did not dare to hazard the excitement of so inter- esting an interview. Besides, sir," he added, with some pleasantry, " your wonderful and fascinating elocmence has mesmerized so large a portion of our people, wherever you have gone, and even some of our members of Congress," waving his hand toward the two or three gentle- men who were present, " that I feared to come under its influence, lest you might shake my faith in some principles in regard to the foreign policy of this government, which I have long and constantly cherished."] In regard to the foreign policy of this government, you will allow me, I hope, to speak with that sincerity and candor which becomes the interest the subject has for you and myself, and which is due to us both as the votaries of freedom. I trust you will believe me, too, when I tell you that I entertain ever the liveliest sympathies in every struggle for liberty, in Hungary and in every countiy. And in this, I believe, I express the universal sentiment of Tiiy countrymen. But, sir, for the sake of ra> HENRY CLAY'S LAST SPEECH. 159 country you must allow me to protest against the policy you propose to her. Waiving the grave and momentous question of the right of one nation to assume the executive power among nations for the enforcement of international law, or of the right of the United States to dictate to Russia the character of her relations with the nations around her, let us come at once to the practical consideration of the matter. You tell us yourself, with great truth and propriety, that mere sympathy, or the expression of sympathy, can not advance your purposes. You require ma- terial aid. And indeed it is manifest that the mere declarations of the sympathy of Congress, or of the president, or of the public, would be of little avail, unless we were prepared to en- force these declarations by a resort to arms, and unless other nations could see that preparation and determination upon our part. Well, sir, suppose that war should be the issue of the course you propose to us ; could we then effect any thing for you, ourselves, or the cause of liberty ? To transport men and arms across the ocean in sufficient numbers and quantities to be effec- tive against Russia and Austria would be impossible. It is a fact which perhaps may not be generally known, that the most im- perative reason with Great Britain for the close of her last war with us, was the immense cost of the transportation and main- tenance of forces and munitions of war on such a distant theater ; and yet she had not, perhaps, more than thirty thousand men upon this continent at any time. Upon land Fussia is invulner- able to us, as we are to her. Upon the ocean, a war between Russia and this country would result in the mutual annoyance to commerce, but probably in little else. I learn recently that her war marine is superior to that of any nation in Europe, except perhaps Great Britain. Her ports are few, her commerce lim- ited ; while we, on our part, would offer as a prey to her cruisers a rich and extensive commerce Thus, sir, after effecting noth- ing in such a war ; after abandoning our ancient policy of amity and non-intervention in the affairs of other nations, and thus jus- tifying them in abandoning the terms of forbearance and non- interference which they nave hitherto preserved toward us ; after thr- downfall, perhaps, of the friends of liberal institutions m Europe, — her despots, imitating and provoked by our fatal example, may turn upon us in the hour of our weakness and exhaustion, and, with an almost equally irresistible force of reason and of arms, they maj sa] to us, "You have set us the mple ; you have quit your own to stand on foreign ground; vun have abandoned the policy you professed in the day of your weakne , to interfere in the affairs of the people upon this con- 160 ROSS'S SPEAKER. tinent, in behalf of those principles the supremacy of which, you say, is necessary to your prosperity, to your existence. We, in our turn, believing that your anarchical doctrines are destructive of, and that monarchical principles are essential to, the peace, security, and happiness of our subjects, will obliterate the bed which has nourished such noxious weeds ; we will crush you, as the propagandists of doctrines so destructive of the peace and good order of the world." The indomitable spirit of our people might and would be equal to the emergency, and we might remain unsubdued even by so tremendous a combination ; but the consequences to us would be terrible enough. You must allow me, sir, to speak thus freely, as I feel deeply, though mv opinion may be of but little import, as the expression of a dying man. Sir, the recent melancholy subversion of the republican gov- ernment of France, and that enlightened nation voluntarily placing its neck under the yoke of despotism, teach us to despair of any present success for liberal institutions in Europe ; it gr'es us an impressive warning not to rely upon others for the vindi- cation of our principles, but to look to ourselves, and to cherish with more care than ever the security of our institutions and the preservation of our policy and principles. By the policy to which we have adhered since the days of Washington, ve have pros- pered beyond precedent ; we have done more for the cause of liberty in the world than arms could effect ; we have shown to other nations the way to greatness and happiness. And if we but continue united as one people, and persevere in the policy which our experience has so clearly and triumphantly vindicated, we may in another quarter of a century furnish an example which the reason of the world can not resist. But if we should involve ourselves in the tangled web of European politics, in a war in which we could effect nothing, and if in that struggle Hungary should go down, and we snould go down with her, where then would be the last hope of the friends of freedom throughout the world ? Tar better is it for ourselves, for Hun- gary, and for the cause of liberty, that, adhering to our wise pacific system, and avoiding the distant wars of Euiope, wc should keep our lamp burning brightly on this western shore, as a light to all nations, than to hazard its utter extinction, amid tnf ruins of fallen or falling republics in Europe. SPECIMEN OF KOSSUTH'S ELOQUENCE. 161 Specimen of Kossuth's Eloquence, No. 1. A home and true friends are two of the fairest gifts of Heaven allotted to man on earth. The exiled chief of Hungary, who has now the honor to acknowledge your kindness, has no home The soil upon which my cradle stood — the soil where I dreamed the short, rosy dreams of childhood, though even then inter rupted by the inspirations of the patriot's heart — the soil which saw me struggle and strive for my people's freedom, and for the independence of my native land — the soil to which I have de- voted my life, and for which I will readily die, — that soil is a valley of desolation now. The sanguinary tools of foreign vio- ence have polluted its sacred fields, watered by torrents of pat- riotic martyr blood. The fair land is a vast prison, wherein nature groans, and, though fettered, with clinched fists looks up to Heaven for the day of retribution ana of deliverance. The storm of oppression, the clouds of tyranny, hang gloomily over the land. It has lost every thing, only not it? honor — not its trust in God — not its hope for the future — not the manly reso- lution once more to rise in inexorable judgment over tyrants and oppressors. And O, how I love thee, my poor native land ! How I love thee in thy gloom ! How keenly thy sorrows affect my bleeding heart ! How I long for thee, my own dear native land, with the fond desire of an exile's heart ! Home of my people, which I left, and which God will once more lead on the path of glory and freedom ! home of my recollections — of my love ! I greet thee out of the very midst of thy generous friends of America, who, benevolent because free, stretch out their gigantic arms over the waves with consolation to thee, and shout out over the vast regions of this republic thy name with millions of tongues, in token that there is yet a future to this, because there is an America, free and powerful, watching the laws of nations, and ready to defend what despots dare to offend. Thus, though I have no home, yet the home of my people has good friends, who, with the aid of God, I hope will yet restore myself also to my home, that I may have at least a homely grave in which to lay down my weary head, that the sun of free- dom may cast its rays over the flower of memory which the kind remembrance of ni\ noople will plant over the grave of its faithful servant. j6"2 KOSS'S speaker. Specimen No. 2. I passed the last night in a sleepless dream. And my soul wandered, on the magnetic wings of the past, home tc my be- loved, bleeding land, and I saw, in the dead of the night, dark, veiled shapes, with the paleness of eternal grief upon their sad brows, but terrible in the tearless silence of that grief, gliding over the churchyards of Hungary, and kneeling down at the head of the graves, and depositing the pious tributes of green cypress upon them, and, after a short prayer, rising with clinched fists, and gnashing teeth, and then stealing away tear- less and silent as they came — stealing away because the blood- hounds of my country's murderers lurked from every corner on that night, and on this day, and led to prison those who dared to show a pious remembrance to the beloved. To-day a smile on the lips of a Magyar is taken for a crime of defiance to tyranny, and a tear in his eye equivalent to a revolt. And yet I have seen, with the eye of my home-wandering soul, thousands per- forming the work of patriotic virtue. And I saw more. When the pious offerers have stolen away, I saw the honored dead, half risen from their tombs, looking to the offerings, and whispering gloomily, " Still a cypress, and still no flower of joy ! Is there still the chill of winter and the gloom of night over thee, fatherland ? Are we not yet re- venged ? " And the sky of the east reddened suddenly, and boiled with bloody flames, and from the far, far west, a lightning flashed like a star-spangled stripe, and within its light a young eagle mounted and soared towards the bloody flames of the east, and as he drew near, upon his approaching, the boiling flames changed into a radiant morning sun, and a voice from above was heard, in answer to the question of the dead, " Sleep yet a short while — mine is the revenge ! I will make the stars of the west the sun of the east ! and when ye next awake, you will find the flower of joy upon your cold bed." And the dead took the twi<2 of cypress, the sign of resurrection, into their bony hands and lay down. Specimen No. 3. Farewell, my beloved country ! Farewell, land of the Magyars ! Farewell, thou land of sorrow ! I shall never more beV'tld the summit of thy mountains. My last looks are fixed MARCO BOZZARIS. 163 upon my country, and I see thee overwhelmed with anguish, look into the future, but that is overshadowed. Land of my love, thou art in slavery. From thy very bosom will be forged the chains to bind all that is sacred. I hoped for thee even in the dark moment when on thy brow was written the withering word, Despair. I lifted my voice in thy behalf when men said, " Be thou a slave. 1 ' My principles have not been those of Washington, nor my acts those of Tell. I desired a free nation — free as man can not be made but by God. And thou art fallen ; faded as the lily. The united forces of powerful nations have dug thy tomb the withering grasp of tyranny has seized upon thy vitals, an nru al chest's friendly lid • H 166 ROSS'S SPEAKER. To mutter sacres, fierce and fast, On baffled foes that round him crowd, And hear, in accents sharp and loud, The sheriff cheer his band ! Searcn — till each closet is explored , Search, landlord — for thy bill of board Search — for the wines against him scored . And, tailors, lend a hand ! Thev sought, like Shylocks, long and hard, Around, beneath, and overhead ; But vainly all — they left the bard Snug in his mealv bed. Then his indignant Susan saw Those shameless wreckers of the law Had nabbed his Sunday coat ; She saw the fearful look he wore, As then and there he roundly swore To leave his thankless native shore, Upon that morning's boat ! On Mr. Clay's Resolutions.— websteb, And now, Mr. President, instead of speaking of the possi- bility or utility of secession, instead of dwelling in these caverns of darkness, instead of groping with those ideas so full of all that is horrid and horrible, let us come out into the light of day ; let us enjoy the fresh air of liberty and union ; let us cherish those hopes which belong to us ; let us devote ourselves to those great objects that are fit for our consideration and our action ; let us raise our conceptions to the magnitude and the importance of the duties that devolve upon us ; let our comprehension be as broad as the country for which we act, our aspirations as high as its certain destiny ; let us not be pygmies in a case that calls for men. Never did there devolve on any generation of men higher trusts than now devolve upon us, for the preservation of this constitution, and the harmony and peace of all who are destined to live under it. Let us make our generation one of the strongest and brightest links in that golden chain, which is destined, 1 *ondly believe, to grapple the people of all the states to this constitution for ages to come. We have a great, popular, constitutional government, guarded by law and by judicature, and defended by the wtole affections JUSTICE TO THE WHOLE COUNTRY. 167 uf the people. No monarchical throne presses these states together ; no iron chain of military power encircles them ; they live and stand upon a government popular in its form, repre- sentative in its character, founded upon principles of equality, and so constructed, we hope, as to last forever. In all its history it has been beneficent ; it lias trodden down no man's liberty — it has crushed no state. Its daily respiration is liberty and pa- triotism ; its yet youthful veins are full of enterprise, courage, and honorable love of glory and renown. Large before, tho country has now, by recent events, become vastly larger. This republic now extends, with a vast breadth, across the whole con- tinent. The two great seas of the world wash the one and the other shore. We realize, on a mighty scale, the beautiful description of the ornamental edging of the buckler of Achilles, — " Now the broad shield complete, the artist crowned "With his last hand, and poured the ocean round : In living silver seemed the waves to roll, And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole Justice to the Whole Country.— Webster, I think, sir, the country calls upon us loudly and impera- tively to settle this question. I think that the whole world is looking to see whether this great popular government can get through such a crisis. We are the observed of all observers. It is not to be disputed or doubted that the eyes of all Christen- dom are upon us. We have stood through many trials. Can we stand through this, which takes so much the character of a sectional controversy ? Can we stand that ? There is no in- quiring man in all Europe who does not ask himself that ques >.ion every day, when he reads the intelligence of the morning Can this country, with one set of interests at the south, and another set of interests at the north, — these interests supposed, but falsely supposed, to be at variance, — can this people see, what is bo evident to the whole world beside, that this Union is iheir main hope and greatest benefit, and that their interests are entirely compatible ? Can they see, and will they feel, that their prosperity, their respectability among the nations of the earth, iiiifl their happiness ;it home, depend upon the maintenance of their union and their constitution ? That is the question. 1 agree thai local divisions are apt to overturn the understandings 10b KOSS'S SPEAKER. of men, and to excite a belligerent feeling between section and Bection. It is natural, in times of irritation, for one part of the country to say, " If you do that," I will do this, and so get up a feeling of hostility and defiance. Then comes belligerent legis- lation, and then an appeal to arms. The question is, whether we have the true patriotism, the Americanism, necessary to carry us through such a trial. The whole world is looking towards us, with extreme anxiety. For myself, I propose, sir, to abide by the principles and the purposes which I have avowed. I shall stand by the Union, and by all who stand by it. I shall do justice to the whole country, according to the best of my ability, in all I say, and act for the good of the whole country in all I do. I mean to stand upon the constitution. I need no other platform. I shall know but one country. The ends I aim at shall be my Country's, my God's, and Truth's. I was born an American ; I live an Amer- ican ; I shall die an American ; and I intend to perform the duties incumbent upon me in that character to the end of my career. I mean to do this, with absolute disregard of per- sonal consequences. What are personal consequences ? What is the individual man, with all the good or evil that may betide him, in comparison with the good or evil which may befall a great country in a crisis like this, and in the midst of great transactions which concern that country's fate ? Let the con- sequences be what they will, I am careless. No man can suffer too much, and no man can fall too soon, if he suffer, or if he fall, in defence of the liberties and constitution of his country. All for Good Order.— t>. p. Pack. Characters. — Schoolmaster; — Isaac, a schoolboy ; — Mr. Fosdick ; Bill, his son ; — Mrs. O'Clart, (Irish ;) Patrick, her son ; — 'Sqvire Snyder ; Jonas, his son ; — Saunders, a drunken fellow ; Jabez, his son ; — some half dozen schoolboys. Master. {Setting copies alone.) Well, so here I am again, after another night's sleep. But, sleep or no sleep, I feel about as much fatigued in the morning as I do at night. It is impos- sible to get the cares and anxieties of my profession out of my mind. It does seem to rne that .he parents of some of my pupils are very unfeeling ; lor I know I have done my very best to keep a good school, and however I may have failed in some distances I have the satisfaction of feeling, in my conscience, A.LL FUR GOOD OBDEK. I6i* that my host endeavors have been devoted to my work. — A merry lot of copies here, to be set before school time. (Looking at his watch.) But " a diligent hand will accomplish much." By the way, that will do for a copy for Jonas Snyder — little culprit! He was very idle yesterday. (Thinking and busy.) What can that story mean, which Mr. Truetell told me this morning ? Five or six ! — who could they be : — five or six of the parents of my scholars dreadfully offended ! Let me see : What have I done ? Nothing very lately, that I recollect. Let's see ; yesterday ? No, there was nothing yesterday, except that I detained the class in geography till they got their lessons. O, yes ; Jonas Snyder was punished for idleness. But I spoke to him four or five times, and he would do nothing but whisper, and whittle his bench ; and when at last he half ate up an apple, and threw the rest at Jacob Readslow, I thought he deserved it. Let's see: 1 gave him six claps — three on each hand. Well, he did not get more than his deserts. (Enter one of the schol- ars, with his looks under his arm, walking slowly, and eying I he master, to his seat. Master, still busy, and thinking, by and by says,) Isaac, you may come to me. (He walks along, and says,) Sir ! Master. Do you remember (placing his pen over his ear, and turning earnestly and portentously round) whether I pun- i jhed any scholars yesterday ? Isaac. Yes, sir ; you feruled Jone Snyder, for playing and laughing, DO Master. Did I punish any one else ? Isaac. Not as I recollect. Master. Think, Isaac; think carefully. Isaac. You kept a lot of us after school, for not saying our lessons Master. (Quickly.) You mean, Isaac, rather, I kept you to get your lessons, which you had neglected. Isaac. Yes, sir ; and you made Patrick O'Clary stop and sweep, because he staid out too lute after recess. Master. O, yes ; I remember that. Isaac. He was as mad as a hop about it ; he said he meant to tell his mother that you made him sweep for nothing. Master. Hush ! hush ! You shouldn't tell tales. Do you remember any other punishments ? Isaac. No, Bit ; nut yesterday. You hit Jab" Saunders a cli[> across the knuckles, with the cowskin, day befoT yester- day. Don't you remember? .lust as he stretched out his band to hook that old rag upon Tom Willis's collar, you came HO KOSS'S SPEAKER. along behind him, and clip went the old whip, right across hia fingers, and down went the old rag. There, 1 never was more glad to see any thing in my life ! Little dirty, mean fellow ! — he's always sticking things upon fellows. I saw him once pin an old dirty rag upon a man's coat, just as he was putting a letter into the post office. I never saw such a fellow ! ( The other hoys coming in gradually, the master rings his little bell, and says,) Boys, come to order, and take your hocks. Now, boys, I wish to see if we can't have a good school to-dav. Let's see : are we all here ? Boys. No, sir ! No, sir ! Master. Who is absent ? Boys. Jone Snyder ! Jabe Saunders ! Patrick O'Clary ! and Master. Speak one at a time, my boys. Don't make confu- sion, to begin with; — and, {looking around them,) — O, Bill Fosdick, — only four ! One of the boys. Pat O'Clary is late. I saw him down in Baker Street, poking along. He always comes late Master. Did he say he was coming ? Same Boy. I asked him if he was coming to school, and he shook his head, and muttered out something about his mother, and I ran along and left him. Master. Well, hoys, now let us try to have a still school and close study to-day, and see if it is not more pleasant to learn than to play. {Rises and walks to and fro on the stage.) Take the geography lesson, James and Samuel, first thing this morning ; and, Isaac, I don't wish to detain you again to-day. {Loud knock at the door.) {Enter Bill Fosdick, walking importantly and consequentially up to the master, and says,) Here ! father wants to see you at the door ! {Master turns to go to the door, followed by Bill, who wishes to hear all thaCs said, and Mr. Fosdick, looking quite savage, steps right inside, the master politely bowing, with a " good morning." Fosdick. Here, sir ; I want, to see you about my boy. I don't like to have you keep him after school every day ; I want him at home, — and I should like to have you dismiss him when school is done. If he wants lickin', lick him — that's all; but don't you knep him here an hour or two every day after school. I don't send lim here for that ! Master. But, my good sir, I have not often detained him not more than twice within a fort ALL FOR GOOD ORDER. 171 Fos. Well, don't you do it again — that's all ! Master. Cut, sir, I have only detained him to learn the lea. sons which he might learn in school ; and surely, if Fos. Well, well, sir ! don't you do it again ! — that's all I have to say ! If he behaves bad, you lick him — only do it in reason. But when school is done, I want him dismissed. Master. Sir, I do what I conceive to be my duty ; and I serve all my scholars alike ; and while I would be willing to ac- commodateyou, I shall do what I think is my duty. (Gathering spirit and gravity, and advancing.) Sir, do I understand you wish me to whip your son for not getting his lesson ? Fos. Yes — no — yes — in reason ; I don't want my chil- dren's bones broke. Master. (Taking from the desk a cowhide.) Do you prefer your son should be whipped to being detained ? Fos. I don't think not getting his lessons is such a dreadful crime. I never used to get my lessons, and old Master Pepper- mint never used to lick me, and I am sure he never kept me after school ; but we used to have schools good for sum fin in them days. — Bill, go to your seat, and behave yourself; and when school is done, you come home. That's all I have to say. Master. But stop, my boy ! (Speaking to Bill, decidedly.) There happen to be two sides to this question. There is some- thing further to be said, before you go to your seat in this school. Fos. What ! you don't mean to turn him out of school, du ye ? (Somebody knocks.) (A boy steps to the door, and in steps Mrs. 0' Clary, who, approaching Fosdick, says,) Is it you that's the schoolmaster, sure? It's I that's after spaking to the schoolmaster. (Cur- tesying.) Fos. No ; I'm no schoolmaster. Master. What is your wish, madam ? Mrs. 0' Clary. I wants to spake with the schoolmaster, 1 do, ir (Curtesies.) Master. Well, madam, (rapping to keep the boys still, who are disposed to laugh,) I am the schoolmaster. What is your \»;:h? Mrs. O'C. Why, sir, my little spalpeen of a son goes to this school, he does ; and lie says he's made to swape every day, he is ; and it's all for nothing, he tills me ; and sure I don't like it, 1 don't; and I'm kirn to complain to ye, I have. It's Patrick O'Clary thai I'm Bpakingof; and it's 1 that's his mither, I be ; and his poor father was Paddy O'Clary from Cork, it was — rest hia sowl 1 172 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Master. We 1, madam, he has never swept but once, I believe , and that, surely, was not without a good reason. Mrs. O' C. But himself tills a different story, he does ; and J nivcr knew him till but one lie in my life, I didn't ; and that was as good as none. But the little spalpeen shall be after tilling his own stowry, he shall ; for it's he that's waiting in the entry, and will till ye no lie, at all, at all, — upon that ye may depind ; though it's his mither that says it, and sure ! (Calls.) Patrick ! Patrick ! Patrick ! My dear, here's your mither wants ye to come in, and till master how it's you that's kept to swape ivry day, and it's all for nothing, it is. Come in, I say, in a jiffy ! (Patrick, scratching his head, enters.) Here's your mither, dear: now till your master, — and till the truth, — didn't ye till your mither that ye had to swape ivry day for nothing ; and it's you that's going to be kept swaping ivry day for a mc|ith to come, and sure ? Master. Now tell the truth, Patrick. Patrick. (Looking at his mother.) No ; 1 niver said no such words, and sure. I said how Ps kept to swape yisterday, for staying out too late ; and that's all I said 'bout it, at all, at all. Mrs. O' C. " Cush la macree ! " Little sonny, how you talk ! He's frightened, he is, and sure. (Turning to Fosdick.) He's always bashful before company, he is. But, master, it's I that don't like to have him made to swape the school, indade ; and if you can do nothing else, I shall be in sad taking, I shall, and sure. If you should be after bating him, I should make no complaint ; for I bates him myself, whiniver he lies to his mither — a little spalpeen that he is. But I can't bear to have him made to do the humbling work of swaping, at all, at all ; and it's I that shall make a " clish ma claver," an' it's not stopped — indade I shall. (Somebody knocks.) (Isaac steps to the door, and returning, says,) 'Squire Sny- der wishes to see you, sir. Master. (Smiling.) Well, ask Mr. Snyder to step in. We may as well have a regular court of it. (Isaac waits upon him in, leading Jonas, with his hands poulticed.) Master. (Smiling.) Good morning, Mr. Snyder; — walk in, sir. Mr. Snyder. (Rather gentlemanly.) I hope you will excuse my interrupting your school ; but I called to inquire what Jonas, here, could have lone, that you bruised him up at such a rate Poor little fellow ! he came home, taking on as if his heart ALL FOR GOOD ORDER. 173 would break ; and both his hands swelled up bigger than m.ne ; and he said you had been beating him for nothing. I thought, I'd come up and inquire into it; for I don't hold to this banging and abusing children, and especially when they haven 1 ! done any thing ; though I'm a friend to good order. 71/ ' r. I was not aware that I punished him very severe- ly, s , . Mr. Snyder. 0, it was dreadfully severe. Why, the poor little fellow's hands pained him so, that his mother had to poultice them, and sit up with him all night ; and this morning she wanted to come up to school with him herself; but I told her I guessed she better let me come. Jonas, do your hands ache now, dear ? Jonas. (Holding them both out together.) O, dreadfully ! They feel as if they were in the fire. Mr. Snyder. Well, dear, keep composed ; don't cry, dear. Now, sir, (addressing the master,) this was all for nothing. Master. No, sir. It was for something, I am thinking. Jonas. I say I did not do nothing; so there, now. (Some body knocks.) Master. Gentlemen, sit down. (Looking perjilexed.) Sit down, madam. Give me a little time, and I'll endeavor to set the matter right. (All sitting down but. the boys.) Mr. Snyder. Why, I don't wish to make a serious matter of it. I shan't prosecute you. I was only going to ask if you couldn't devise some other kind of punishment than pommeling. If you'd made him stop after school, or set him to sweeping the house, or scouring the benches, or even whipped him with a cowhide or a switch stick, I should not have complained ; but ] don't like this beating boys. (Knocking again.) Master. Isaac, go and see who is at the door. (Isaac, goes, and in stalks Saunders, ivilh his son Jabez.) Saunders. (Boiving and flourishing.) Here! halloo! Here, I say, Mr. Schoolmaster, settle up the score as ye goes along. I say, (snatching a cowhide,) you have been horsewhipping my boy here, hain't you ? By the fifteen gallon law, you don't come that game over the son of Nehemiah Saunders, you see, you pale-faced, good-for-nothing But pardon me, master ; I a\ your pardon ; for 'Miah Saunders always was, and always will be, a gentleman. — Ye see, — don't ye sec ? — (hiccough* in" — lifts off his hal,) — ye see — 111 tell ye what, master — if Pil only known it yesterday, ye see, I'd a been here and — but — ye see — yesterday — I was ver) particularly engaged — 174 ROSS'S SPEAKER. but now (approaching, and switching the cowhide,) ye see we'll know who's the strongest. I'll give you Mrs. O'C. {Screeching.) La ! what shall I do ? If there' a going to be fighting, by St. Patrick, I shall go into hysterics. — O dear ! dear ! dear ! Master. O, don't be frightened, madam. Saunders. {Looking at the woman.) O, ha, ha ! Why, Cathleen O'Clary — ye see — why, have you left your washtub to go to school ? Why, bless my heart ! Why, ye see, bless me ! — the master here will have a most tractable pupil in you, Cathleen. Why, my stars ! ye see — and here is neighbor Fos- dick : why, how de du, neighbor Fosdick ? {Bowing very low to Snyder.) How do you do, 'Squire Snyder ? Why, I hope I hain't been disturbing a court, nor nothing. {Rubbing his head, tyc.) The truth is, I felt dreadfully provoked, when I heard that master here had been whipping my son with a raw hide, like a horse ; and says I, I don't sleep till I have whipped him — and all for nothing, too ! — I've nothing against licking, Mr. School- master, if you use the right kind of licking. Ferule a boy, or give him a stick, till he cries " Enough ! " but none of your horsewhipping, I say! — ye see — I can't stand that ! {During this speech, Jabe archly hangs an old rag upon his father'' s coat, and steps back, and laughs at it.) Mr. Fosdick. {Who saw it.) Mr. Saunders, what is that you've got upon your coat ? {Examining.) Saunders. On my coat, — where? {Looks, and after a while finds it, and says, in awful rage,) " Who did that ? " Fos. It was your hopeful son, there. Saunders. You little villain of a scamp ! {Attempting to hit him with the whip, but staggering, fails.) I'll whip the hide all off of you, I will. Master, he's in your house ; order him to me, and I'll show you how to use the cowhide ! Master. Be calm, sir ; be calm. Will you be good enough to sit down ? You are a gentleman, you say ; then oblige me by sitting down between these two gentlemen. Saunders. That I will. I'll oblige any gentleman. {After many attempts, gets to the seat.) Master. And now, gentlemen, and {bowing) madam, I think we may each of us begin to see the beauty of variety, especially in the matter of opinion. That you may all understand the whole case, I will state, in a few words, the facts, as they actu- ally occurred. Day before yesterday, our young friend Jabez {pointing to kirn) was playing his favorite trick of hanging his rag signal upon a schoolmate, after the fashion in w'nch ho ha* ALL FOR GOOD ORDER, 175 here so filially served nis father, within a few minutes ; and standing near him at the time, with my whip in hand, I could not resist the temptation to salute his mischievous knuckles with a well-directed stroke, which, however effectually it may have cut his own fingers and his father's sensibilities, it seems has not cut off his ruling propensity. Yesterday was emphatically a day of sinning on my part. Jonas Snyder, whose little hands have swelled to such enormous magnitude, for constant idleness was often reproved ; and after all this, when he threw a portion o r an apple at a more industrious boy, thus disturbing many of those well-disposed boys, he was called and feruled, receiving six strokes — three on each hand — with the rule I now show you. Little Patrick O'Clary was required to sweep the school- room floor for a strong instance of tardiness at recess ; and this punishment was given because I did not wish to inflict a severer one upon so small a lad. And last, this little fellow {pointing to Bill Fosdick) was detained, in common with seven others, to learn a lesson which he neglected to learn at the proper time. Such are the facts. And yet each of you has assured me that I have incurred your displeasure by using a punishment you disapprove, and " all for nothing." You have each one taken the trouble to come to this room, to render my task — already sufficiently perplexing — still more so. by giving parental sup- port to childish complaints, and imparting your censure, in no measured terms, upon the instructor of your children. Rut this is a most interesting case. You all happen to be here together, and you thus give me the opportunity I have long wished, to show you your own inconsistencies. It is easy to complain of your teacrnr ; but perhaps either of you, in your wisdom, would find it not quite so easy to take my place and escape censure. How would either of you have got along in the present instance ? Mr. Fosdick, who is displeased with detention after school, would have, according to his own recommendation, resorted to "licking," either with ferule or whip. In this case, he would have incurred the censure of his friends, 'Squire Snyder and Mr. Saunders. The squire, in turn, would have raised the displeasure of both his friends, by resorting to his favorite mode of detaining and cowhiding. Mistress O'Clary would give the " spalpeens " a " bating," as she says, after her own peculiar fashion, with which the squire and Mr. Saunders could not have been over-much pleased. And Mr. Saunders — ay, Mr. 'Miah Saunders — if we may judge from the exhibition lie has just given us, would have displeased sven himself, by proving to be what he most of all things detests 176 ROSS'S SPEAKER. — a champion of the cowhide. But what is a little curious, is it appears, is, that while I have not carried out the favorite scheme of either one of you, — which, we have already seen, would be objectionable to each of the others, — but have adopted a variety of punishments, and the very variety which your own collective suffrage would fix upon, I have got myself equally deep into hot water ; and the grand question is now, what shall I do ? If I take the course suggested by you collectively, the result is the same. I see no other way but to take my own course, performing conscientiously my duties, in their time and after their manners, and then to demand of you, and all others, the right of being sustained. Saunders. {Jumping up.) Them is my sentiments, exactly Ye see — I say — ye see — you go ahead, and — ye see — whip that little rascal of mine — ye see — just as much as you've a mind to, — {turning to the squire, who is rising,) — and you shall have this whip to do it with. {Handing it to the master.) Mr. Snyder. Well, gentlemen, my opinion is, that we have been tried and condemned by our own testimony, and there is no appeal. My judgment approves the master ; and hereafter I shall neither hear nor make any more complaints. Jonas, {turn- ing to Jonas,) my son, if the master is willing, you may go home and tell your mother to take off those poultices, and then do you come to school and do as you are told ; and if I hear of any more of your complaints, I will double the dose you may receive at school. Mrs. O'C. And sure, master, the wife of Paddy O'Clary is not the woman to resist authority in the new country ; and bless your sowl, if you'll make my little spalpeen but a good boy, it's I that will kindly remember the favor, though ye make him swape until nixt Christmas. Here, Patrick, down upon the little knees of your own, and crave the master's forgiveness : fcr it's not Cathleen O'Clary Master. No, madam ; that I shall not allow. I ask no one to kneel to me. I shall only require that he correct his past faults, and obey me in future. Mrs. O'C. It's an ungrateful child he would be, if ever again he should be after troubling so kind a master. St. Patrick bless ye. {Taking little Pat by the hand, they go out.) Fos. {Taking the master by the hand, pleasantly.) Sir I hope I shall profit by this day's lesson. I have only to say, tha. I am perfectly satisfied we are all wrong ; and that is, perhaps the best assurance 1 can give you that I think you are right That's all I have to say. THE RIGHTEOUS NEVER FORSAKEN. in Saunders. Right! right! neighbor Fosdick. We are ali- ve see — we are all come out on the wrong side this time ; ain't we squire ? I tell ye what, Mr. Schoolmaster, — 'Miah Saun- ders never is ashamed to back out (suits the action, Sj'C.) when he's wrong. I says, I — ye see — 'Miah Saunders is all for good order. Whip that boy of mine — ye see — as much as you please. I'll not complain again — ye see ; — whip him — says I — ye see — whip him, and I — tell ye — if 'Miah Saun- ders don't back ye up — then, ye see — may I be chosen presi- dent of — Cold Water Society. (Exeunt.) The Righteous never forsaken. - akow. It was Saturday night, and the widow of the pine cottage sat by her blazing fagots with her five tattered children at her side, endeavoring, by listening to the artlessness of their prattle, to dissipate the heavy gloom that pvessed upon her mind. For a year, her own feeble hands had provided for her helpless family, for she had no supporter : she thought of no friend in all the wide, unfriendly world around. But that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose ways aie above human comprehension, had visited her with wasting bickness, and her little means had become exhausted. It was now, too, midwinter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through all the surrounding forests, while storms still seemed gathering in the heavens, and the driving wind roared amidst the bounding pines, and rocked her puny mansion. The last herring smoked upon the coals before her ; it was the only article of food she possessed ; and no wonder her for- lorn, desolate state brought up in her lone bosom all the anxie- ties of a mother, when she looked upon her children ; and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though she knew that He whose promise is to the widow and to the orphan can not forget his word. Providence had many years before taken from her her eldest sun, who went from his forest home to try his fortune on the nigh seas, since which she had heard no note or tidings of him ; and in latter time, had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and stall" of her earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband. Vet to this hour she had been upborne; she had not only been able l" provide for her little Hock, but had never lost an opportunity of ministering to the wants of th« niserable him! destitute- 179 ROSS'S SPEAKER. The indolent may well bear with poverty, while the ability U gain sustenance remains. The individual who has but his own wants to supply may suffer with fortitude the winter of want ; his affections are no* wounded, his heart not wrung. The most desolate in populous cities may hope ; for Charity has not quite closed her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery. But the industrious mother of helpless and depending child:' n, far from the reach of human charity, has none of these to con- sole her. And such an one was the widow of the pme cottage ; but as she bent over the fire, and took up the last scanty remnant of food, to spread before her children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper'a beautiful lines came uncalled across her mind — " Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face." The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a gentle rap at the door, and the loud barking of a dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children flew to open it, and a weary traveler, in tattered garments, and apparently indif- ferent health, entered and begged a lodging, and a mouthful of food. Said he, " It is now twenty-four hours since I tasted bread." The widow's heart bled anew as under a fresh com- plication of distresses ; for her sympathies lingered not round her fireside. She hesitated not even now ; rest and a share of all she had she proffered to the stranger. " We shall not be for- saken," said she, " or suffer deeper for an act of charity." The traveler drew near the board ; but when he saw the scanty fare, he raised his eyes towards heaven with astonish- ment. " And is this all your store ? " said he, " and a share of this do you offer to one you know not ? Then never saw I charity before. But, madam," said he, continuing, " do you not wrong your children by giving a part of your last mouthful to a manger ? " " Ah," said the poor widow, — and the tear drops gushed into her eyes as she said it, — "I have a boy, a darling son, some- where on the face of the wide world, unless Heaven has taken him away, and I only act toward you as I would that others should act toward him. God, who sent manra from heaven, c-m provide for us as he did for Israel ; and how should 1 ibis night offend him, if my son should be a wanJere.*, dosM.ite a* THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. 179 you, and he should have provided for him a home, even 1001 as this — were I to turn you unrelieved away ! " The widow ended, and the stranger, springing from his seat, clasped her in his arms — " God indeed has provided your son a home, and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his benefactress. My mother ! O my mother ! " It was her long lost son, returned to her bosom from the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he might the more completely surprise his family ; and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup of joy. That humble residence in the forest was exchanged for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in the valley, and the widow lived long with her dutiful son, in the enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the delightful employments of virtue, and at this day the passer by is pointed to the willow that spreads its branches above her grave. The Tomb of Washington. — anon. Passing from the house, down a rude and neglected pathway, and then over a little broken, but already verdant ground, we came to an open space, and found ourselves standing before the humble tomb of George Washington. It was a happy moment to visit the spot. There was something in the time fortunate for the feelings. The very elements seemed in accordance with the season. The day was beautiful ; the sunlight was stream- ing full upon the trees round about, and glowing with a mellow beam upon the grave. The place was quiet and embosomed ; and the only sound that we heard, save that of our own hearts, was the voice of the wind through the pines, or of the waters as they broke upon the shore below us. Who can analyze his feelings as he stands before that sepul- cher ! Who can tell the story of his associations, or do any justice, by his tongue or his pen, to the emotions which the memories of the past awaken there ! The history of a whole country is overpowering him at once. Its struggles, its dark- ness, its despair, its victory, rush upon him. Its gratitude, its glory, and its loss pass before him, and in a few moments he lives through an age of interest and wonder. Strange power of human mind ! What an intimation does this rapid com- munion with the past, and with tin; spirits of the past, give, at once, of their immortality .'11111 our own ! Bui ii i> vain to follow out these feelings here. They would lill volumes. 180 ROSS'S SPEAKER. There fa no inscription upon the tomb. The simple words " Washington Family," chiseled in granite, surmounts the plain brick work. The masonry was originally wretched, and the plaster is now falling from it. The door is well secured, and of iron. There is a total absence of every thing like parade or circumstance about the resting-place of the hero. Me sleeps there in the midst of the very simplicities of nature. Laurel trees wave over his dust, on every side, and the pilgrim who goes to stand by his grave finds no careful enclosure to forbid his too near approach. In short, Washington rests in an obscurity — just that obscurity which he would have chosen, but which seems hardly compatible with the vast gratitude and deep reverence of a great country. As we were standing upon this spot, a couple of spanieb came bounding along, and following close was an old servant of the family, and formerly a slave of Washington. On exam- ining him, we found he was born on the place, and recollected his master, and all he said, with great distinctness. He was a very aged negro, and quite gray. I found there was something to be gathered from this ancient of the family, and accordingly, as I stood leaning upon the broken gate, which swung before the door of the old tomb, put him in the train by a few questions. " In front of the new grave-place yonder," said he, " lie buried a hundred people of color." These, it seemed, were slaves of the plantation, whe from time to time had died here. He spoke of the great kindness of Washington, and his emancipating a hundred of his people. " His wife did the same," added he. There were now, he said, but about fifteen attached to the establishment. Passing from one thing to another without much connection, he went on to say, referring to Washington — " I never see that man laugh to show his teeth — he done all his laughing inside.''' 1 This I thought worth i page of description. We then recurred to Lafayette's visit in 1825. " We were obliged to tote him all about," said he ; by which I understood that the general was so overcome, that he was literally sup- ported by the arms of attendants. I inquired how he appeared at the tomb. " He cried like a little infant." " Did he go in ? " I asked. " O, yes — he went in, sir — alone — and he made a mighty long talk there — but I don't know what it was about." All these little things were jewels. I loved to hear such simple narrations, from such a source, and it was with ir<*Im- tance 1 turned away, after gathering a relic or two, and followed ANECDOTE OF JUDOE MARSHALL. 181 our old guide up to the house again. But we had seen all we could see, and after glancing at the garden and greenhouse, which appeared in all the coming beauty of spring, and turning one more melancholy gaze upon the cluster of buildings, which had once been improved by the great one who now slept in their shadow, we entered our carriage, and rode slowly away from Mount Vernon. Anecdote of Judge Marshall. — anon. It is not long since a gentleman was traveling in one of tho counties of Virginia, and about the close of the day stopped at a public house, to obtain refreshment and spend the night. He had been there but a short time, before an old man alighted from bis gig, with the apparent intention of becoming his fellow-gues* at the same house. As the old man drove up, he observed that both the shafts of bis gig were broken, and that they were held together by withes formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. Our traveler ob- served further, that he was plainly clad, tbat his knee buckles were loosened, and that something like negligence pervaded bis dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomanry of our land, the courtesies of strangers passed between tbem, and they en- tered the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition of three or four young gentlemen was made to their number — most, if not all of them, of the legal profession. As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, the con- versation was turned, by one of the latter, upon the eloquent harangue which had that day been displayed at the bar. It was replied by the other, that he had witnessed the same day a degree of eloquence, no doubt equal, but that it was from ihe pulpit. Something like a sarcastic rejoinder was made to the elo- quence of the pulpit ; and a warm and able altercation ensued, •n which the merits of the Christian religion became the subject of discussion. From six o'clock until eleven, the young cliam- tjions wielded the sword of argument, adducing with ingenuity and ability every thing that could be said pro and con. During this protracted period, the old gentleman listened with all the meekness and modesty of a child ; as if he was adding new information to the stores of his own mind ; or perhaps he was observing, with philosophic eye, the faculties of the youthful 103 ROSS'S SPEAKER. mind, snd how new energies are evolved by repeated action ; or, perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, and on the rising generation, upon whom these future destinies must devolve ; or, most prob- ably, with a sentiment of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an argument which (characteristic of himself) no art would be " able to elude, and no force to resist." Our traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in what was said. At last one of the young men, remarking that it was impossi- ble to combat with long and established prejudices, wheeled around, and with some familiarity, exclaimed, " Well, my old gentleman, what think you of these things ? " If, said tlie trav- eler, a streak of vivid lightning had at that moment crossed the room, their amazement could not have been greater than it was with what followed. The most eloquent and unanswerable appeal was made for nearly an hour, by the old gentleman, that he ever heard or read. So perfect was his recollection, that every argument urged against the Christian religion was met in the order in which it was advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles was, if possible, more perfectly answered than it had already been done by Campbell. And in the whole lecture there was so much simplicity and energy, pathos and sublimity, that not another word was uttered. An attempt to describe it, said the traveler, would be an at- tempt to paint the sunbeams. It was now a matter of curiosity and inquiry who the old gentleman was. The traveler con- c'uded that it was the preacher from whom the pulpit eloquence was heard : but no — it was the Chief Justice of the Uniteti States*. Buena Vista, —albert Pike. From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of Maine, Let all exult ! for we have met the enemy again — Beneath their stern old mountains, we have met them in their pride, And rolled from Buena Vista back the battle's bloody tide ; Where the enemy came surging, like the Mississippi's flood, And the reaper, Death, was busy with his sickle red with blood Santa Anna boasted loudly, that, before two hours were past, His lancers through Saltillo should pursue us thick and fast : BUENA VISTA. 183 On came his solid regiments, line marcliing after .ine ; Lo, their great standards in the sun like sheets of silver shine . With thousands upon thousands, yea, with more than four to one, A forest of bright bayonets gleams fiercely in the sun. Upon them with your squadrons, May ! — Out leaps the flaming steel. Before his serried column how the frightened lancers reel ! They flee amain. Now to the left, to stay their triumph there, Or else the day is surely lost in horror and despair ; For their hosts are pouring swiftly on, like a river in the spring Our flank is turned, and on our left their cannon thundering. Now, brave artilkry ! bold dragoons ! — Steady, my men, and calm ! Through rain, cold, hail, and thunder ; now nerve each gallant arm ! What though their shot falls round us here, still thicker than the hail! We'll stand against them, as the rock stands firm against the 8 ale - Lo ! their battery is silenced now : our iron hail still showers : They falter, halt, retreat ! Hurrah ! the glorious day is ours ! Now charge again, Santa Anna ! or the day is surely lost ; For back, like broken waves, along our left your hordes are tossed. Still louder roar two batteries — his strong reserve moves on ; — More work is there before you, men, ere the good fight is won ; Now for your wives and children stand ! steady, my braves, once more ! Now for your lives, your honor, fight 1 as you never fought before. Ho ! Hardin breasts it bravely ! McKee and Bissell there Stand firm before the storm of balls that fills th' astonished air. The lancers are upon them, too ! — the foe swarms ten to one — Hardin is slain — McKee and Clay the last time see the sun ; And many another gallant heart, in that last desperate fray, Grew cold, its last thoughts turning to its loved ones far away. Still sullenly the cannon roared — but died away at last, And o'er the dead and dying came the evening shadows fa»t. 184 ROSS'S SPEAKER. And then a.bove the mountains rose the cold moon's silver shield, And pitiently and pityingly looked down upon the field ; And careless of his wounded, and neglectful of his dead, Despairingly and sullen, in the night, Santa Anna fled Darkness. — Btbon. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind, and blackening, in the moonless air , Morn came, and went — and came, and brought no day , And men forgot their passions, in the dread Cf this their desolation ; and all hearts Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light. Some lay down, And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest Their chins upon their clinched hands, and smiled , And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up, With mad disquietude, on the dull sky, The pall of a past world ; and then again, With curses, cast them down upon the dust, And gnashed their teeth, and howled. The wild birds shrieked And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings : the wildest brutes Came tame, and tremulous ; and vipers crawled And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food. The meager by the meager were devoured ; Even dogs assailed their masters — all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds, and beasts, and famished men at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lured their lank jaws ; himself sought out no food. But, with a piteous and perpetual moan, And a quick, desolate cry, licking the hand Which answered not with a caress — he died. The crowd was famished by degrees ; but two Of an enormous city did survive, SOLITUDE. 185 And they were enemies ; they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place, Where had been heaped a mass of holy things, For an unholy usage : they raked up, And, shivering, scraped, with their cold, skeleton hands, The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame, Which was a mockery : then they lifted Their eyes, as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects ; saw, and shrieked, and died. Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written fiend. The world was void ; The populous and the powerful was a lump — Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless ; A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still, And nothing stirred within their silent depths : Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal ; as they dropped, They slept, on the abyss, without a surge : The waves were dead ; the tides were in their gravo ; The moon, their mistress, had expired before ; The winds were withered in the stagnant air, And the clouds perished : darkness had no need Of aid from them ; she was the universe. Solitude. — Byron. To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene. Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountaSi all unseen, With the wild flock, thai never needs a fold ; Alone, o'er steeps and foaming folds to lean ; — This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled. But, 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and *.<> possess, ^d roam along, the world's tired denizen, 186 BOSS'S SPEAKER. With none who hless us, none whom we can bless , Minions of splendor, shrinking from distress ; None, that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less, Of all that flattered, followed, sought, and sued ; — This is to he alone ; this, this is solitude. Disappointed Ambition. — Johnson. In full-blown dignity see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice and fortune in his hand ; To him the church, the realm, their powers consign , Through him the rays of regal bounty shine ; Turned by his nod, the stream of honor flows ; His smile alone security bestows. Still to new heights his restless wishes tower ; Claim leads to claim, and power advances power ; Till conquest, unresisted, ceased to please, And rights submitted left him none to seize. At length his sovereign frowns ; the train of state Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye ; His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly. How drops at once the pride of awful state, The golden canopy, the glittering plate, The regal palace, the luxurious board, The liveried army, and the menial lord ! With age, with cares, with maladies oppressed, He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. Grief aids disease, remembered folly stings, And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. The Little Philosopher. — Day Mr. L. (Looking at the boy, and admiring his ruddy cheerful countenance.) I thank you, my good lad : you have caught my horse very cleverly. What shall I give you for youi trouble ? (Putting his hand into his pocket.) Boy. I want nothing, sir. Mr. L. Don't you ? So much the better for you. Few meii THE LITTLE PHILOSOPHER. 187 can say as much. But pray what were you doing in the field ? B. I was rooting up weeds, and tending the sheep that are feeding on the turnips, and keeping the crows from the corn. Mr. L. And do you like this employment ? B. Yes, sir, very well, this fine weather. Mr. L. But had you not rather play ? B. This is not hard work ; it is almost as good as play. Mr. L. Who sent you to work ? B. My father, sir. Mr. L. Where does he live ? B. Just by, among the trees, there, sir. Mr. L. What is his name ? B. Thomas Hurdle, sir. Mr. L. And what is yours ? B. Peter, sir. Mr. L. How old are you ? B. I shall be eight at Michaelmas. Mr. L. How long have you been out in this field ? B. Ever since six in the morning, sir. Mr. L. And are you not hungry ? B. Yes, sir ; I shall go to my dinner soon. Mr. L. If you had sixpence now, what would you do with it ? B. I don't know ; I never had so much in my life. Mr. L. Have you no playthings ? />. Playthings ! what are they ? Mr L. Such as balls, ninepins, marbles, tops, and wooden horses. B. No, sir ; but our Tom makes footballs to kick in colci weather, and we set traps for birds ; and then I have a jumping pole, and a pair of stilts to walk through the dirt with ; and I had a hoop, but it is broken. Mr. L. And do you want nothing else ? B. No, sir ; I have hardly time for those ; for I always ride the horses to the field, and bring up the cows, and run to the town on errands ; and these are as good as play, you know. Mr. L. Well, but you could buy apples or gingerbread at tlip town, I suppose, if you had money. H. O, I can get apples at home ! and as for gingerbread, I don't mind it much, for my mother gives me a piece of pie now and then, and that is as good. Mr. L. Would you not like a knife to cut sticks? B. I have one — here it is — brother Tom gave it me. Mr. L. Your shoes are full of holes — don't you want u better pair ? [88 ROSS'S SPEAKER. B. 1 have a better pair for Sundays. Mr. L. But these let in water. B. I don't care for that ; they let it out again. Mr. L. Your hat is all torn, too. B. I have a better hat at home ; but I had as lief have none at all, for it hurts my head. Mr. L. What do you do when it rains ? B. If it rains very hard, I get under the hedge till it is over. Mr. L. What do you do when you are hungry before it is time to go home ? B. I sometimes eat a raw turnip. Mr. L. But if there are none ? B. Then I do as well as I can ; I work on, and never think of it. Mr. L. Are you not dry, sometimes, this hot weather ? B. Yes, sir ; but there is water enough. Mr. L. Why, my little fellow, you are quite a philosopher. B. Sir ? Mr. L. I say you are a philosopher ; but I am sure you do not know what that means. B. No, sir — no harm, I hope. Mr. L. No, no. Well, my boy, you seem to want nothing «.t all ; so I shall not give you money, to make you want any thing. But were you ever at school ? B. No, sir ; but father says I shall go, after harvest. Mr. L. You will want books then. B. Yes, sir ; the boys have all a spelling book and a Tes- tament. Mr. L. Well, then, I will give you them — tell your father so, and that it is because I thought you a very good, contented boy. — So now go to your sheep again B. I will, sir. Thank you. Mr. L. Good by, Peter. B. Good by, sir. Patience essential to Success. Da. Talmadge, President of Oglethorpe University, " A masterlv" inactivity" was the motto of one of that illus- trious trio of sages who have gone down to the grave amid a nation's tears, and whose loss to the nation seems like leaving the people orphan? — like blotting out the luminary of day fron PATIENCE ESSENTIAL TO SUCCESS. 189 the heavens — like taking the weather-beaten pilot from the helm, and surrendering the rudder to the hands of inexperienced boys. In this age of fevered excitement, and in this nation, whsoe position and institutions have communicated so fearful a mo- mentum to political action, we are in danger, in our hot haste and our spirit of self-glorification, of forgetting our dependence on God, and of bidding defiance, in every department of life, to all the laws of solid progress. * * * Among the proverbs which experience and age have em- bodied, is the common and trite one, " The more hurry the less speed." The engineer, although the road be well graded, does not undertake to run the locomotive until the superstructure is laid. But in real life many a man attempts to run without grade or superstructure, and it requires no oracle to say that he will make poor headway. Let me present a scene which I wish were always fancy, but which I am sorry to say is enacted not unfrequently. Of two youths about prepared to enter the Freshman Class cf a college, one takes his proper place ; the other, at the earnest entreaty of an injudicious father, and by the pliancy of a yield- ing Faculty, enters the Sophomore Class. The latter, with some rare and happy exceptions, if he is able at all to retain his position, is found to graduate in three years at the bottom of his class ; and you shall never more hear of him unless you go to within a few miles of his residence. The former in four years graduates, with honor, among the leaders of his class, and is soon fifty years ahead of the other in usefulness and fame Here a year's time seemed to be gained at the start, but the gain proved in the end to be a dead loss. * * * Who are those orators with so facile a manner — so easy a flow of words — so copious a torrent of thoughts — and with such profound philosophy, clothed in illustrations so rich, gath- ered from nature and from every science and art — enchaininii yonder Senate chamber, and fascinating yonder bar, and from the pulpit wringing tears of sorrow and of joy alternately from the eyes of the enraptured audience ? They are Chatham, and Grattan, and Curran, and Calhoun, and Clay, and Webster, and Massillon, and Chalmers, and Robert Hall. And what writer is that who plays upon the English language as upon a harp, and who evokes iho sweetesl music in the utterance of the richest thoughts and the profoundesl philosophy ? That is Edmund Burke, the philosophic statesman. To all these men thought and language seemed playthings, tc 1 190 ROSS'S SPEAKER. be uttered in mere wantonness and sport. But they gained their envied achievements by industry and toil. They were all men of severe and patient thought and laborious study. The Consular System of the United States. John Pebkins, Jr., of Louisiana, Mr. Speaker : It is utterly useless, under our existing system., to request of the committee on foreign affairs an opinion upon the legality of any claim that is preferred against the govern- ment by one in the foreign service. There is no law to guide its decisions, and almost every claim depends upon precedent or the discretion of the secretary of state. These claims are multiplying with each year, and they will continue to multiply to a fearful extent unless there is some positive law defining the duties to be discharged, and fixing their proper remuneration. Last session about thirty thousand dollars were expended in meet- ing these demands. They come into the House without explana- tion ; get attached to our general appropriation bills, no one knows how ; and pass, no one knows why ; running up our ag gregate expenditures, each one becoming a precedent, prolific of similar demands in the future. This should not be. It is a great abuse. It reflects discredit upon those in the foreign service, subjects them to personal humiliation, and is entirely opposed to the genius of our institutions. In all that I have said 1 have avoided reference either to party or to individuals. This is a national reform, equally affecting every portion of the country; and, until it is accomplished, good men of all parties engaged in the foreign service will participate alike in the popular prejudice that now exists, created by the abuses of a defective system. I have also avoided any refer- ence to the foreign policy of our government, either in the past or present. Its discussion has nothing to do with the reforms of this bill. Although embarrassed by jealousies in our early rela- tions with foreign powers, we have found, in our remoteness from the conflicts of Europe, and our geographical position at the head of a great continent, advantages which, with the cau- tious maxims of Washington, are destined, beyond doubt, to make us the commercial and political center of the world. In sixty-five years we have grown from a few comparatively feeble settlements into a great empire. Civilization has, within this period, poured its light into our great central valley, ano AMERICAN LITERATURE. 191 forests have disappeared ; cities sprung up, and a magnificent landscape every where spread itself out, beautiful in the results of religion and law. In this it may be questioned whether the internal or foreign policy of the government has had the mosi influence. The extension of our territory, the rapid development of our wealth, the opening of new and the increase of old sources of foreign trade, and the participation in it of the capital and prod- ucts of all sections of the Union, have caused to sympathize nearly every domestic interest with foreign affairs. It is no exaggeration to say that there is not an acre of corn or cotton grown in the west or south, not an American vessel in any port in the world insured, not a loan made, nor a note discounted at any of our banks, which is not affected in its value, or in some way acted upon, and made a vibration of the great political and financial movements of the rest of the world. The fact that these domestic interests, which thus, like nerves, spread all over the globe, connect remote localities with interior points of our own country, can not be protected by our own legislation, but depend upon treaties and the regard of the other powers of the earth for certain great principles of international law, makes the perfecting of the agency, through which we communicate with the rest of the world, a matter of great practical importance. A distinguished statesman of England, speaking on this sub- ject, has called ministers and consuls " the ears, eyes, and mouths of a government, by which it hears, sees, and communi- cates with the rest of the world." The object of this bill is to make these organs of communication respond more distinctly to the purpose of their creation. It is time that something was done to reform existing abuses. Our interests at home and abroad demand it. The honor of the country requires it. The occasion is a fit one. American Literature. — gkimxb. We can not honor our country with too deep a reverence ; we can not love her with an affection too pure and fervent ; we can not serve her with an energy of purpose, or a faithfulness of zeal, too stedfast and ardent. And what is our country ? It is not the East, with her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails, and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the North, with her thousand villages, and put harvest horn.-, with her frontiers 192 ROSS'S SPEAKER. of the lake and the ocean. It is not the West, with her forest ^ea. and her inlanu isles, with her luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with her beautiful Ohio, and her majestic Mis- souri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and in the golden robes of the rice field. What are these but the sister families of one greater, better, holier family — our country ? If, indeed, we desire to behold a literature like that which has sculptured, with such energy of expression, which has painted so faithfully and vividly, the crimes, the vices, the follies of ancient and modern Europe : if we desire that our land should furnish for the orator and the novelist, for the painter and the poet, age after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war ; the glittering march of armies, and the revelry of the camp ; the shrieks and blasphemies, and all the horrors of the battle field ; the desolation of the harvest, and th burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of cities : if we desire to unchain the furious passions of jealousy and selfishness, of hatred, re- venge, and ambition, those lions that now sleep harmless in their Jen : if we desire that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush with the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft from the land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the roar and the smoke of battle ; that the very mountain tops should become altars for the sacrifice of brothers, — if we desire that these, and such as these — the elements, to an incredible extent, of the literature of the old world — should be the elements of our literature, then, but then only, let us hurl from its pedestal the majestic statue of our Union and scatter its fragments over all our land. But, if we covet tor our country tne noblest, purest, loveliest literature the world has ever seen, such a literature as shall honor God and bless mankind, a literature whose smiles might play upon an angel's face, whose " tears would not stain an angel's cheek," then let us cling to the union of these states with a patriot's love, with a scholar's enthusiasm, with a Chris- tian's hope. In her heavenly character, as a holocaust self- sacrificed to God ; at the height of her glory, as the ornament of a free, educated, peaceful, Christian people, American litera- ture will find that the intellectual spirit is her very tree of life aid that union her garden of paradise. PREDICTIONS OF DISUNION. 193 Predictions of Disunion. - Wm. PiNKNSi, Sir, the people of the United States, if I do not wholly mis. take their character, are wise as well as virtuous. They know the value of that federal association, which is to them the single pledge and guarantee of power and peace. Their warm and pious affections will cling to it, as to their only hope of prosperity and happiness, in defiance of pernicious abstractions, by whom- soever inculcated, or howsoever seductive and alluring in their aspect. Sir, it is not an occasion like this, — although con- nected, as, contrary to all reasonable expectation, it has been, with fearful and disorganizing theories, which would make our estimates, whether fanciful or sound, of natural law the measure of civil rights and political sovereignty in the social state, — it is not, I say, an occasion like this that can harm the Union. It must, indeed, be a mighty storm that can push from its moorings this sacred ark of the common safety. It is not every trifling breeze, however it may be made to sob and howl in imitation of the tempest, by the auxiliary breath of the ambitious, the timid, or the discontented, that can drive this gallant vessel, freighted with every thing that is dear to an American bosom, upon the rocks, or lay it a sheer hulk upon the ocean. I may, perhaps, mistake the flattering suggestions of hope (the greatest of all flatterers, as we are told) for the conclusions of sober reason. Yet it is a pleasing error, if it be an error, and no man shall take it from me. I will continue to cherish the belief, — ay, sir, in defiance of the public patronage given to deadly speculations, which, invoking the name of Deity to aid their faculties for mischief, strike at all establishments, — I will continue to cherish the belief that the Union of these states is formed to hear up against far greater shocks than, through all vicissitudes, it is ever likely to encounter. I will continue to cherish the belief that, although, like all other human institutions, it may for a season be disturbed, or suffer momentary eclipse by the transit across its disk of some malignant planet, it possesses a recuperative force, a redeeming energy, in the hearts of the people, that will soon restore it to its wonted calm, and give it back its accustomed splendor. On such a subject I will discard all hysterical apprehensions; I will deal in no sinister auguries, I will indulge in no hypochondriacal forebodings. I will look forward to the future with gay and cheerful hope, and will make the prospect smile, in fancy at least, until overwhelming reality shall render :t no longer possible. 13 194 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Value of Knowledge. — h. l. Pincknby. What is it that unfolds the structure of the human frame showing, indeed, how fearfully and wonderfully it is made, 01 has invested Surgery with the admirable precision and dexterity which it now exhibits, or that enables Medicine to conquer all the maladies to which mankind is subject, those plagues and pestilences alone excepted which seem destined by Providence to perform the office of special judgments, and to remain incura- ble scourges of the human race ? What is it that disarms the lightning of its power, elevates valleys and depresses hills, cleaves the ocean, and ascends the sky ? What is it that we be- hold in every elegant and useful art, in the diversified hues that attract the eye, in the dresses and decorations of our persons and our houses, in every implement of husbandry or war, in the sub- terraneous aqueduct, or the heaven-kissing monument, in the animated canvas, or speaking marble ? What are all these but the varied triumphs of the human mind ? And who can estimate their value ? To say nothing of that absolute state of barbarism, " when wild in woods the noble savage ran," who can measure the difference between the splendid illumination of the nineteenth century and that glim- mering condition of society ; when astrology assumed to regulate events, and alchymy to transmute all other metals into gold ; when ignorance was affrighted by an ignis fatuus, and comets and meteors were regarded as the immediate precursors of the dissolution of the world ; when science was considered synony- mous with magic, and punished as the evidence of atrocious crimes ; when superstition occupied the seat of justice, and guilt or innocence was established by the righteous decisions of fire or water, or the infallible ordeal of military prowess ? Science is, indeed, to the moral, what the great orb of day is to the natural world ; and as the extinction of the latter would necessarily be followed by universal darkness and decay, so, were art and sci- ence lost, society would inevitably relapse into the savagism from which it is their proud boast to have elevated and redeemed it Patriotism. — H. L. Pincknby. The American constitution is, in fact, the political luminary of the world ; and he who would extinguish its sacred hght, is not only a traitor to American liberty, but justly deserves to be KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT RELIGION. 195 egarded as an enemy to the human race. Patriotism, there fore, requires you to cultivate an ardent and abiding attachment to that constitution as the bond of our political union. This is the ark of our political salvation, the citadel from which the light of liberty shines and its inspiring banner waves, that sacred light, at which mourning humanity may relume its hopes, that banner which proudly proclaims that there is still one republic in the world, one land where man walks erect in all the dignity of his nature, and where the oppressed of other nations may happily exchange the miseries of despotism for the inestimable fruition of the rights of man. And who would overthrow it if he could ? Who is he that would rise on the ruins of his country, or that desires to see the American capitol rocking on its base, and the proud emblem of freedom torn from its walls, and this glorious confederacy broken into fragments, and the sun of liberty extinguished in fraternal blood, and the whole world enveloped in the deep and intermina- ble darkness of political death ? If there be an American, so utterly unworthy of the name, let me tell him, for his consolation, that his parricidal aspiration never can be gratified. The American confederacy can never be dissolved, never, whilst the people retain a recollection of their common sufferings and glories, or are actuated by the principles of the revolution, or whilst reason is left free to com- bat error, and popular education is promoted, and that great engine, the press, remains untrammeled, and men dare to think, and speak, and act like freemen. " I love thee ; next to heaven above, Land of my fathers — thee I love ; And rail thy slanderers as they will, With all thy faults, I love thee 8tUL" Knowledge without Religion. — u. L. Pinoknby. But what is knowledge without religion ? Of what avail will it be, that thou make the voyage of life with favoring currents and propitious gales, if it only bring you at last to an undone eternity ? Of what avail will be all the honors and enjoyments of this transitory scene, if they are destined to terminate in that unending misery which no eloquence can soothe, no learning alleviate, no applause divert? What then! Are you fond of roaming in the fair Gelds <>(' literature, and can you not be per- 196 ROSS'S? SPEAKER. Atutded to cultivate the sacred as well as the profane ? Is there no flowery height but Helicon, no golden stream but Hermus ? Is there no virtue but in the dreams of Plato, no immortality bu 1 in the hopes of Socrates, no heaven but Elysium ? Have you no desire to explore the exquisite beauties of Lebanon or Carmel, or to drink of the pure water of " Siloa's brook, that flows fast by the oracles of God " ? Is there nothing in the Bible that can enlarge your understandings, elevate your imaginations, or refine your tastes ? Has it no sublimity of conception, no richness of imagery, no power of description ? Has it nothing useful in ethics, or valuable in philosophy — nothing instructive as a history, or interesting as a system of religion — nothing elevated in its, poetry, or affecting in its incidents, or important in its moral ? Have you determined to know no God, except he be found in the ancient mythology — no religion, unless it has been proved fabulous — no morality, unless it be notoriously defective as to the true springs of virtue and the true principles of duty ? Are you only solicitous for the esteem of men, and utterly re- gardless of the opinion of your Maker, anxious to obtain earthly fame and wisdom, but caring nothing for " that honor which cometh from on high," or for that knowledge which alone can " make you wise unto salvation " ? Can this be so ? Was it for this that you were educated here, and that you intend tc prosecute the improvement of your minds ? Is it indeed the only object of your future lives, so to acquire every thing useful and beautiful, except religion, that you may be decorated like victims for the sacrifice, and sink forever, like a richly-freighted bark, to the fathomless abyss of eternal woe ? Bear with me for a moment ! Are you reveling in youthful vigor, and know you not that the domain of death is peopled with the young ? Do you anticipate a long career of activity and usefulness, and know you not that there is nothing more uncertain than the frail tenure of human existence ? Are you proud of your talents, glowing with the ardor of ambition, and longing for distinction in the race of life, and know you not that the most buoyant heart may soon be chilled by the icy touch of the destroyer, and the most eloquent tongue be hushed forever in the silent tomb ? " Begin — be bold, and venture to oe wise ; He who defers this work from day to day Does on a river's bank expecting stay, Till the whole stream that stopped him shall be gone, Which runs, and, as it runs, forever shall run on ' THE BEST OF CLASSICS. 19-, The Best of Classics. — Gum™. There is a classic, the best the world has ever seen, the noblest that has ever honored and dignified the language of mortals. If we look into its antiquity, we discover a title to our veneration unrivaled in. the history of literature. If we have respect to its evidences, they are found in the testimony of miracle and proph- ecy ; in the ministry of man, of nature, and of angels ; yea, even of " God manifest in the flesh," of " God blessed forever." If we consider its authenticity, no other pages have survived the lapse of time that can be compared with it. If we examine its authority, — for it speaks as never man spake, — we discover that it came from heaven, in vision and prophecy, under the sanction of Him who is Creator of all things, and the Giver of every good and perfect gift. If we reflect on its truths, they are lovely and spotless, sublime and holy, as God himself, unchangeable as his nature, durable as his righteous dominion, and versatile as the moral condition of mankind. If we regard the value of its treasures, we must estimate them, not like the relics of classic antiquity, by the perishable glory and beauty, virtue and happiness, of this world, but by the enduring perfection and supreme felicity of an eternal kingdom. If we inquire who are the men that have recorded its truths, vindicated its rights, and illustrated the excel- lence of its scheme, — from the depth of ages and from the liv- ing world, from the populous continent and the isles of the sea, comes forth the answer, the patriarch and the prophet, the evangelist and the martyr. If we look abroad through the world ol men, the victims of folly or vice, the prey of cruelty or injustice, and inquire what are its benefits, even in this temporal state, the great and the humble, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak, the learned and the ignorant reply, as with one voice, that humility and resignation, purity, order, and peace, faith, hope, and charity, are its blessings upon earth. And if, raising our eyes from time to eternity, from the world of mortals to the world of just men made perfect, from the visible crea Jon, marvelous, beautiful, and glorious as it is, to the invisible creation of angels and seraphs, from the footstool of God to the throne of God himself, we ask what are the blessings that flow from this single volume, — let the question be answered by the pen of the evangelist, the harp of the prophet, ami the records of the book of life. Such is the of classics 1 1 1* r world has ever admired; such, the noblest that ■wan had ever adopted as a guide. 198 ROSS'S SPEAKER. The Family Bible. — anox. How painfully pleasing the fond recollection Of youthful connections and innocent joy, When blessed with parental advice and affection, Surrounded with mercies, with peace from on high ! 1 still view the chair of my sire and my mother, The seats of their offspring are ranged on each hand, And that richest of books, which excelled every other That family Bible that lay on the stand ; The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible, The family Bible, that lay on the stand. That Bible, the volume of God's inspiration, At morn and at evening, could yield us delight, And the prayer of our sire was a sweet invocation For mercy by day and for safety through night. Our hymns of thanksgiving, with harmony swelling, All warm from the heart of a family band, Half- raised us from earth to that rapturous dwelling Described in the Bible that lay on the stand ; That richest of books, which excelled every other, The family Bible, that lay on the stand. Ye scenes of tranquillity, long have we parted ; My hopes almost gone, and my parents no more ; In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted, And wander unknown on a far-distant shore. Yet how can I doubt a dear Savior's protection, Forgetful of gifts from his bountiful hand ! O, let me, with patience, receive his correction, And think of the Bible that lay on the stand ; That richest of books, which excelled every other, That family Bible that lay on the stand. Absalom. —Willis. The waters slept. Night's silvery vail hung low On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled Their glossy rings beneath it, like the still, Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. ABSALOM. 19° The reeds bent down the stream. The willow leaves, With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, And leaned in graceful attitudes to rest. How strikingly the course of nature tells, By its light heed of human suffering, That it was fashioned for a perfect world ! King David's limbs were weary. He had fled From far Jerusalem, and now he stood With his faint people for a little rest Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn The mourner's covering, and he had not felt That he could see his people until now. They gathered round him on the fresh, green bank, And spoke their kindly words ; and as the sun Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. O, when the heart is full, when bitter thoughts Come crowding thickly up for utterance, And the poor common words of courtesy Are such a very mockery, how much The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer ! He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up Strongly and fervently ; he prayed for those Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep tone Grew tremulous ; but 0, for Absalom ! For his estranged, misguided Absalom — The proud, bright being who had burst away, In all his princely beauty, to defy The heart that cherished him — for him he poured, In agony that would not be controlled, Strong supplication, and forgave him there, Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. The hosts were numbered. At Mahanaim's gate Sat David, as the glittering thousands passed Forth to the battle. With a troubled eye He looked upon their pomp, and as the helms Bent low before him, and the bannors swayed 200 ROSS" 13 SPEAKER. Like burnished wings to do him reverence. His look grew restless, and he did not wear The lofty sternness of a monarch's brow. The leader of the host came by. His form Was like a son of Anak, and he strode Majestically on, and bore his crest As men were waters, and his frame a rock. The king rose up to Joab, and came near, As his tall helm was bowed ; and by the love He bore his master, he besought him there That he would spare him Absalom alive. He passed with his stern warriors on ; the trumj And the loud cymbal died upon the ear ; And as the king turned off his weary gaze, The last faint gleam had vanished, and the wood Of Ephraim had received a thousand men, To whom its pleasant shadows were a grave. The pall was settled. He who slept beneath Was straightened for the grave ; and as the folds Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed The matchless symmetry of Absalom. His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls Were floating round the tassels as thoy swayed To the admitted air, as glossy now As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. His helm was at his feet ; his banner, soiled With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid Reversed beside him ; and the jeweled hilt, Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, Rested like mockery on his covered brow. The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, Clad in the garb of battle, and their chief, The mighty Joab, stood beside his bier, And gazed upon the dark pall stedfastly, As if he feared the slumberer might stir. A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form Of David entered, and he gave command In a low tone to his few followers, And left him with his dead.* HAMLET AND HORATIO. 201 Hamlet and Horatio. — Shaksi-eabb Horatio. Hail to your lordship ! Hamlet. I am glad to see you well : (approaches.) Horatio, — or I do forget myself. Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio ? Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ; Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore ? We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow-student : I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. flam. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral baked meats Did coldlv furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had mot my dearest foe in heaven, < )r ever I had seen that day, Horatio ! My father methinks I see my father. Hor. Where, my lord ? Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Hor. 1 saw him once ; he was a goodly king. Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all , I shall not look upon his like again. Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yestermgnt. Ham. Saw ! who ? Hor. My lord, the king, your father. Ham. The king, my father ? Hor. Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear ; till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you. Ham. For Heaven's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encountered : A figure like your father \ r Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger Ham, Pale, or red ? Hor. Nay, very pale. Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you ? Hor. Most constantly. Ham. I would I had been there. Hor. It would have much amazed you. Ham. Very like, very like ; staid it long ? Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred Ham. His beard was grizzled ? — no ? — Hor. It was as I have seen it in his life, sable silvered. Ham. I'll watch to-night ; perchance 'twill walk again Hor. I warrant you it will. HARD TO PLEASE. 203 Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, sir, If you have hitherto concealed this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still ; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue ; I will requite your love : so, fare you well. Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you. Hard to please, — Miss Bdobwobth. Mrs. Bolingbroke. I wish I knew what was the matter with me this morning. Why do you keep the newspaper all to your- self, my dear ? Mr. Bolingbroke. Here it is for you, my dear : I have fin- ished it. Mrs. B. 1 humbly thank you for giving it to me when you have done with it. I hate stale news. Is there any thing in the paper ? for I can not be at the trouble of hunting it. Mr. B. Yes, my dear ; there are the marriages of two of our friends. Mrs. B. Who ? who ? Mr. B. Your friend, the widow Nettleby, to her cousin, John Nettleby. Mrs. B. Mrs. Nettleby ! Lord ! But why did you tell me ? Mr. B. Because you asked me, my dear. Mrs. B. O, but it is a hundred times pleasanter to read the paragraph one's self. One loses all the pleasure of the surprise by being told. Well, whose was the other marriage ? Mr. B. 0, my dear, I will not tell you ; I will leave yoa the pleasure of the surprise. Mrs. B. But you see I can not find it. How provoking you are, my dear ! Do pray tell it me. Mr. B. Our friend, Mr. Granby. Mrs. B. Mr. Granby ! Dear ! Why did you not make me guess ? I should have guessed him directly. But why do you call him our friend ? I am sure he is no friend of mine, nor ever was. I took an aversion to him, as you may remember, the very first day I saw him. I am sure he is no friend of mine. Mr. B. I am sorry for it, my dear ; but I hope you will go and see Mrs. Granby. • 4 y4 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, my dear. Who was she ? Mr. B. Miss Cooke. Mrs. B. Cooke ! But there are so many Cookes ; car/t you distinguish her in some way ? Has she no Christian name ? Mr. B. Emma, I think. Yes, Emma. Mrs. B. Emma Cooke ! No ; it can not be my friend Em- ma Cooke ; for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid. Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife. Mrs. B. May be so. I am sure Til never go to see her. Pray, my dear, how came you to see so much of her ? Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. I only saw her two or three times before she was married. Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you decide that she was cut out for a good wife ? I am sure you could not judge of her by seeing her only two or three times, and before she was married. Mr. B. Indeed, my love, that is a very just observation. Mrs. B. I understand that compliment perfectly, and thank you for it, my dear. I must own I can bear any thing better than irony. Mr. B. Irony ! my dear, I was perfectly in earnest. Mrs. B. Yes, yes ; in earnest — so I perceive. I may naturally be dull of apprehension, but my feelings are quick enough ; I comprehend you too well. Yes ; it is impossible to judge of a woman before marriage, or to guess what sort of a wife she will make. I presume you speak from experience ; you have been disappointed yourself, and repent your choice. Mr. B. My dear, what did I say that was like this ? Upon my word, I meant no such thing. I really was not thinking of you in the least. Mrs. B. No ; you never think of rne now. 1 can easih believe that you were not thinking of me in the least. Mr. B. But I said that only to prove to you that I could not be thinking ill of you, my dear. Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me, than that you did not think of me at all. Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you, if that will please you. Mis. B. Do you laugh at me ? When it comes to this, 1 am wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the woman he loved. As long as you had the slightest remains of love for me, you could not make me an object of derision : ridicule and love are incompatible ; absolutely incompatible. Well, I have done OLD GKIMES. 205 my best, my very best, to make you happy, but in vain, j see I am not cut out to be a good wife. Happy, happy Mrs Granby ! Mr. B. Happy, I hope sincerely, that she will be with my friend ; but my happiness must depend on you, my love ; so, for my sake, if not for your own, be composed, and do not torment yourself with such fancies. Mrs. B. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is reahy that Miss Emma Cooke. I'll go and see her directly ; see her I must. Mr. B. I am heartily glad of it, my dear ; for I am sure a visit to his wife will give my friend Granby real pleasure. Mrs. B. I promise you, my dear, I do not go to give him pleasure or you either ; but to satisfy my own — curiosity. Old Grimes. — Albert G. Grbbkb. Old Grimes is dead ; that good old man We never shall see more ; He used to wear a long black coat, All buttoned down before. His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true ; His hair was some inclined to gray — He wore it in a queue. Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burned ; The large round head upon his cane From ivory was turned. Kind words he ever had for all ; He knew no base design : His eyes were dark and rather small. His nose was aquiline. He lived at peace with all mankind • In friendship he was true ; His coat bad pocket holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. 206 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes He passed securely o'er ; And never wore a pair of boots For thirty years or more. But good old Grimes is now at rest Nor fears misfortune's frown : He wore a double-breasted vest — The stripes ran up and down. He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert ; He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbors he did not abuse — Was sociable and gay , He wore large buckles on his shoes, And changed them every day. His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view, Nor make a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do. His worldly goods he never threw In trust to Fortune's chances ; But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances. Thus undisturbed by anxious cares, His peaceful moments ran, And every body said he was A fine old gentleman. Major Brown. — Hood. If any man, in any age, in any town or city, Was ever valiant courteous, cage, experienced, wise, or witty, That man was Major Brown by name : the fact you can no'i doubt, For he himself would say the same, ten times a day, about. MAJOR BKOWN. 20T The major in the foreign wars indifferently had fared ; For he was covered o'er with scars, though he was never scared But war had now retired to rest, and piping peace returned ; Yet still within his ardent breast the major's spirit burned. When suddenly he heard of one who in an air balloon Had gone — I can't tell where he'd gone — almost into the moon. " Let me — let me," the major cries, " let me, like him, ascend , And if it fall that I should rise, who knows where it may end ? " The cords are cut — a mighty shout — the globe ascends on high ; And, like a ball from gun shot out, the major mounts the sky — Or would have done, but cruel chance forbade it so to be ; And bade the major not advance — caught in a chestnut tree. But soon the awkward branch gives way, he smooths his angry brow, Shoots upward, rescued from delay, and makes the branch a bow : Till, mounting furlongs now some dozens, and peeping down he pants To see his mother, sisters, cousins, and uncles look like ants. That Brown looked blue I will not say, — his uniform was red, — But he thought that if his car gave way he should probably bo dead. He gave his manly breast a slap, and loudly shouted, " Courage ! " And waved above his head the cap in which he used to forage. And up he went, and looked around to see what there might be, And felt convinced that on the ground were better things to see. A strange bird came his path across, whose name he did not know ; Quoth he, " 'Tis like an albatross ; " it proved to be a crow. " I wish that you would please to drop," quoth Brown to his balloon ; — lie might as well have spoken to the man that's in the moon. And now the heavens begin to lower, and thunders loud to roll, And winds and rains to blow and pour, that would daunt a general's soul. Such a hurricane to Major Brown must most unpleasant be ; And he said " If I can not get down, 'twill be all up with me ! ' 208 KOSS'S SPEAKER. From his pocket, then, a knife he took ; in Birmingham twas made ; The handle was of handsome look, of tempered steel the blade. Says he, " The acquaintance of a balloon I certainly shall cut ; " So in the silken bag full soon his penknife blade he put. Out rushed the gas imprisoned there — the balloon began to sink , " I shall surely soon get out of the air," said Major Brown, " I think." Alas for Brown, balloon, and car, the gas went out too fast ; The car went upside down, and far poor Major Brown was cast. Long time head over heels he tumbled, till unto the ground, As I suppose, he must have come ; but he was never found. The car was found in London town ; the bag to Oxford flew ; But what became of Major Brown no mortal ever knew. The Duel. — Hood. In Brentford town, of old renown, there lived a Mister Bray, Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, and so did Mister Clay. To see her ride from Hammersmith, by all it. was allowed, Such fair " oulside " * was never seen — an angel on a cloud. Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, " You choose to rival me, And court Miss Bell ; hut there your court no thoroughfare shall be. Unless you now give up your suit, you may repent your love ; I, who have shot a pigeon match, can shoot a turtle dove. " So pray, before you woo her more, consider what yoi do : If you pop aught to Lucy Bell, I'll pop it into you." Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, " Your threats I do explode ; One who has been a volunteer knows how to prime and load. And so I say to you, unless your passion quiet keeps, I, who have shot and hit bulls' eyes, may chance to hit a sheep's ! " Now gold is oft for silver changed, and that for copper red ; But these two went away to give each other change for lead. But first they found a friend apiece, this pleasant thought :o give — That when they both were dead, they'd have two seands yet o live. ♦ Id England, women frequently ride on the outside of staga toucher THE MKTHDAY OF WASHINGTON. i>09 To measure out the ground not long the seconds next forbore , And having taken one rash step, they took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol pan against the deadly strife, By putting in the prime of death, against the prime of life. Now all was ready for the foes ; but when they took their stands Fear made them tremble so, they found they both were shaking hands. Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., " Here one of us may fall, And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, be doomed to have a ball I do confess I did attach misconduct to your name ; If I withdraw the charge, will then your ramrod do the same ? Said Mr. B., " I do agree. But think of honor's courts ; If we go off without a shot, there will be strange reports. But look ! the morning now is bright, though cloudy it begun , Why can't we aim above, as if we had called out the sun ? " So up into the harmless air their bullets they did send ; And may all other duels have that upshot in the end. Tfte Birthday of Washington.— Rufus Choath. The birthday of the " Father of his Country " ! May it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts. May it ever re- awaken in them a filial veneration for his memory ; ever rekindle the fires of patriotic regard to the country which he loved so well ; to which he gave his youthful vigor and his youthful energy, during the perilous period of the early Indian warfare ; to whicli he devoted his life, in the maturity of his powers, in the field ; to which, again, he offered the counsels of his wisdom and his experience, as president of the convention that framed our constitution ; which he guided and directed while in the chair of state, and for which the last prayer of his earthly supplication, was offered up, when it came the moment for him so well, and so grandly, and so calmly, to die. He was the first man of the time in which he grew. His memory is first and most sacred in our love ; and ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell of power and might. Yes, gentlemen, there is one personal, one vast felicity, which no man can share with him. It was the daily beauty and tower- ing and matchless glory of his life, which enabled him to create his country, and, at the same time, secure an undying love and 14 210 ROSS'S SPEAKER. regard from the whole American people. " The first in the hearts of his countrymen ! " Yes, first ! He has our first and most fervent love. Undoubtedly there were brave, and wise and good men, before his day, in every colony. But the Ameri- can nation, as a nation, I do not reckon to have begun before 1774. And the first love of that young America was Washing- ton. The first word she lisped was his name. Her earliest breath spoke it. It still is her proud ejaculation, and it will be the last gasp of her expiring life. Yes, others of our great men have been appreciated — many admired by all. But him we love. Him we all love. At^ut and around him we call up no dissentient, and discordant, and dis satisfied elements — no sectional prejudice nor bias — no party no creed, no dogma of politics. None of these shall assail him. Yes, when the storm of battle blows darkest and rages highest, the memory of Washington shall nerve every American arm, and cheer every American heart. It shall relume that Prome- thean fire, that sublime flame of patriotism, that devoted love of country, which his words have commended, which his example has consecrated. «' Where may the wearied eye repose, When gazing on the great, Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state ? Yes — one — the first, the last, the bast, The Cincinnatus of the west, Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeathed the name of Washington, To make man blush there was but one." The Indian, as he was and is.—Q. Spkaotj*. Not many generations ago, where you now sit, circled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, the council fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred ; the echoing whoop, the REPLY TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 211 bloody grapple, the defying death song, all were here ; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. Here, too, they worshipped ; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pil- grim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you ; the latter sprang up in the path of the sim- ple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war cry is fast dying to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away ; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them forever. Reply to Sir Robert Walpole. — ¥m. The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honor- able gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny ; but content myself with hoping that I may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to a man as a reproach I will not assume the province of determining ; but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the opportuni- ties which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves qoI thai his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more is be to be abhorred, who, as lie 212 ROSS'S SPEAKER. has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth is not my only crime ; I am accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some pecu- liarity of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man. In the first sense, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language ; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this gentle- man, 1 shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very soli- citously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age or modeled by experience. But, if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical beha vior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall trea. him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall any thing but age restrain my resentment ; age, which always brings one privilege — that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. But, with regard to those whom I have ofFended, I am of opin- ion that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure ; the heat that offended them was the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, who- ever may protect him in his villanies, and whoever may partake of his plunder. Character of Mr. Pitt. — Robbbtson The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had not reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind overawed majesty itself. No state chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for ministerial victories, sunk CHARACTER OF MR, PITT. 213 him to the vulgar level of the great ; but overbearing, persua- sive, and impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous. France sank beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded in the other the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was infinite ; and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the present age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were accomplished ; always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding ammated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. The ordinarv feelings which make life amiable and indolent were unknown" to him. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weakness, reached him ; but aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, to counsel and decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age, and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the inconsist- ency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories ; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, answered and refuted her. Nor were his political his only talents. His eloquence wa9 an era in the senate — peculiar and spontaneous ; familiarly ex- pressing gigantic sentiments and instructive wisdom ; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully ; it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not conduct the understanding through the painful subtilty of argumentation, nor was he ever on the rack of exertion ; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by the flashings of the mind, which, like those of the eye, were felt, but could not be followed. Upon the whole, there was in this man something that could create, subvert, or reform ; an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wildnees of free minds with unbounded authority ; something that could establish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the world that should romund through the universe. 214 ROSS'S SPEAKER. British Refugees. — Patrick Hrnhy. r Extract from a speech delivered in the legislature of Virginia, in favoi of permitting the Eritish refugees, or those who had joined the English party in the war of independence, to return to the United States. J We have, Mr. Chairman, an extensive country without popu- lation. What can be a more obvious policy than that this coun- try ought to bi peopled ? People form the strength and constitute the wealth of a nation. I want to see our vast forests filled up by some process a little more speedy than the ordinary course of nature. I wish to see these states rapidly ascending to that rank which the ; r natural advantages authorize them to hold among the nations of the earth. Cast your eyes over this exten- sive country. Observe the salubrity of your climate, the variety and fertility of your soil, and see that soil intersected in every quarter by bold, navigable streams, flowing to the east and to the west, as if the finger of Heaven were marking out the couise of your settlements, inviting you to enterprise, and pointing the way to wealth. Sir, you are destined, at some period or other, to become a great agricultural and commercial people ; the only question is, whether you choose to reach this point by slow gradations, and at some distant period, lingering on through a long and sickly minority, subjected meanwhile to the machinations, insults, and oppressions of enemies, foreign and domestic, without sufficient strength to resist and chastise them, or whether you choose rather to rush at once, as it were, to the full enjoyment of those high destinies, and be able to cope, single-handed, with the proud est oppressor of the world. If you prefer the latter course, as I trust you do, encourage immigration ; encourage the husbandmen, the mechanics, the mer chants of the old world to come and settle in the land of promise. Make it the home of the skillful, the industrious, the fortunate, and the happy, as well as the asylum of the distressed. Fill up the measure of your population as speedily as you can, by the means which Heaven has pla#ed in your power ; and I venture to prophesy tners are now those living who will see this favored land among the most powerful on earth, able to take care of herself without resorting to that policy so dangerous, though sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. Yes, they will see her great in arts and in arms, her golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable extent, her commerce penetrating the most distant seas, and her cannon silencing the vain Musi of those who now proudly affect to rule the waves. BRITISH REFUGEES. 215 Instead of refusing permission to the refugees to return, it is your true policy to encourage immigration to this country by every means in your power. Sir, you must have men. You cannot get along without them. Those heavy forests of timber, under which your lands are groaning, must be cleared away. Those vast riches which cover the face of your soil, as well as those which lie hid in its bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the skill and enterprise of men. Your timber must be worked up into ships, to transport the productions of the soil, and find the best markets for them abroad. Your great want is the want of men ; and these you must have, and will have speedily, if you are wise. Do you ask how you are to get them ? Open your doors, sir, and they will come. The population of the old world is full to overflowing. That population is ground, too, by the oppressions :>f the governments under which they live. They are already standing on tiptoe upon their native shores, and looking to your coasts with a wishful and longing eye. They see here a land blessed with natural and political advantages, which are not equaled by those of any other country on earth ; a land on which a gracious Providence hath emptied the horn of abundance ; a land over which Peace hath now stretched forth her white wings, and where content and plenty lie down at every door. They see something still more attractive than this. They see a land in which Liberty has taken up her abode ; that Liberty whom they had considered as a fabled goddess, existing only in the fancies of the poets. They see her here, a real divinity ; her altars rising on every hand, throughout these happy states ; her glories chanted by three millions of tongues ; and the whole re- gion smiling under her blessed influence. Let but this celestial goddess, Liberty, stretch forth her fair hand toward the people of the old world, tell them to come, and bid them weicome, and you will see them pouring in from the north, from the south, from the east, and from the west. Your wilderness will be cleared and settled, your deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and you will soon be in a condition to defy the powers of any adversary. But gentlemen object to any accession from Great Britain, and particularly to the return of the British refugees. Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those deluded people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own interests most wonderfully, and most wofully have they suffered the punishment due to their offences. But the relations which we bear to them and to their native coun- try are now changed. Their king hath acknowledged our inde- 216 ROSS'S SPEAKER. pendcnce The quarrel is over. Peace hath returned, and found us a free people. Let us have the magnanimity to lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider the subject in a political light. They are an enterprising, moneyed people. They will be serviceable in taking off the surplus produce of our lands, and supplying us with necessaries during the infant state of our manufactures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of feeling and principle, I can see no objection, in a political view, to making them tribu- tary to our advantage. And as I have no prejudices to prevent my making use of them, so I have no fear of any mischief they can do us. Afraid of them ! What, sir, shall we, who have laid the proud British lion at our feet, now be afraid of his whelps ? The Fourteenth Congress. — R. h. Wildb. I had the honor to be a member of the fourteenth Congress. It was an honor then. What it is now, I shall not say. It is what the twenty-second Congress have been pleased to make it. I have neither time, nor strength, nor ability, to speak of the legislators of that day as they deserve, nor is this a fit occasion. Yet the coldest or most careless nature can not recur to such associates, without some touch of generous feeling, which, in quicker spirits, would kindle into high and almost holy enthusiasm. Preeminent among them was a gentleman of South Carolina,* now no more — the purest, the calmest, the most philosophical of our country's modern statesmen ; one no less remarkable for gentleness of manners and kindness of heart than for that pas- sionless, unclouded intellect which rendered him deserving of the praise, if ever man deserved it, of merely standing by, and letting reason argue for him ; the true patriot, incapable of all selfish ambition, who shunned office and distinction, yet served his country faithfully, because he loved her ; him I mean who consecrated, by his example, the noble precept, so entirely his own, that the first station in a republic was neither to be sought after nor declined — a sentiment so just and so happily expressed that it continues to be repeated, because it can not be improved. There was, also, a gentleman from Maryland ,t whose ashes now slumber in your cemetery. It is not long since I stood bv • Lowndou. t Plnckney THE FOURTEENTH CONGRESS. 21"? his tomb, and recalled him, as he was then, in all the pride and power of his genius. Among the first of his countrymen and contemporaries, as a jurist and statesman, first as an orator, he was, if not truly eloquent, the prince of rhetoricians. Nor did the soundness of his logic suffer any thing by a comparison with the richness and classical purity of the language in which he copiously poured forth those figurative illustrations of his argu- ment, which enforced while they adorned it. But let others pronounce his eulogy. I must not. I feel as if his mighty spirit *till haunted the scenes of its triumphs, and when I dared to ATong them, indignantly rebuked me. These names have become historical. There were others, of *vhom it is more difficult to speak, because yet within the reach of praise or envy. For one who was, or aspired to be, a politi- cian, it would be prudent, perhaps wise, to avoid all mention of these men. Their acts, their words, their thoughts, their very looks, have become subjects of party controversy. But he whose ambition is of a higher or lower order has no such need of re- serve. Talent is of no party, exclusively, nor is justice. Among them, but not of them, in the fearful and solitary sublimity of genius, stood a gentleman from Virginia* — whom it were superfluous to designate — whose speeches were univer- sally read, whose satire was universally feared. Upon whose accents did this habitually listless and unlistening house hang, so frequently, with rapt attention ? Whose fame was identified with that body for so long a period ? Who was a more dextrous debater ; a riper scholar ; better versed in the politics of our own country, or deeper read in the history of others ? Above all, who was more thoroughly imbued with the idiom of the Eng- lish language; more completely master of its strength, and beauty, and delicacy ; or more capable of breathing thoughts of (lame in words of magic and tones of silver ? There was, also, a son of South Carolina,! still in the service of the republic, then, undoubtedly, the most influential member of this house. With a genius eminently metaphysical, he applied to politics his habits of analysis, abstraction, and condensation, and thus gave to the problems of government something of that grandeur which the higher mathematics have borrowed from astronomy. The wings of his mind were rapid, but capricious, and there were times when the light, which (lashed from them as they passed, glanced like a mirror ir. the sun, only to dazzle the beholder. Engrossed with his subject, careless of his words * Kan'lelj'li. f i '•i.huuij 218 RG8S8 SPEAKER. his loftiest flights of eloquence were sometimes followed by col- loquial or provincial barbarisms. But, though often incorrect, he was always fascinating. Language, with him, was merely the scaffolding of thought, employed to raise a dome, which, like Angelo's, he suspended in the heavens. It is equally impossible to forget or to omit a gentleman from Kentucky,* whom party has since made the fruitful topic of un- measured panegyric and detraction. Of sanguine temperament and impetuous character, his declamation was impassioned, his retorts acrimonious. Deficient in refinement rather than in strength, his style was less elegant and correct than animated and impressive. But it swept away your feelings with it like a mountain torrent, and the force of the stream left you little leisure to remark upon its clearness. His estimate of human nature was, probably, not very high. Unhappily, it is, perhaps, more likely to have been lowered, than raised, by his subsequent ex- perience. Yet then, and ever since, except when that impru- dence, so natural to genius, prevailed over his better judgment, he adopted a lofty tone of sentiment, whether he spoke of meas- ures or of men, of friend or adversary. On many occasions he was noble and captivating. One 1 can never forget. It was the fine burst of indignant eloquence with which he replied to the taunting question, " What have we gained by the war? " Nor may I pass over in silence a representative from New Hampshire,! who has almost obliterated all memory of that dis- tinction by the superior fame he has attained as a senator from Massachusetts. Though then but in the bud of his political life, and hardly conscious, perhaps, of his own extraordinary powers, he gave promise of the greatness he has since achieved. The same vigor of thought ; the same force of expression ; the short sentences; the calm, cold, collected manner; the air of solemn dignity; the deep, sepulchral, unimpassioned voice; all have been developed only, not changed, even to the intense bitterness of his frigid irony. The piercing coldness of his sarcasm was, indeed, peculiar to him ; they seemed to be emanations from the spirit of the icy ocean. Nothing could be at once so novel and so powerful ; it was frozen mercury, becoming as caustic as red hot iron. • Okyr t Webstar. SOUTH CAKOL1NA. 819 Beauty of Nature in Spring- Time. There is surely no serener or purer pleasure on earth than to ramble over the fields, through the forests, and along the rippung streams at this most beautiful and lovely season, and hold com- munion with Nature in all the boundlessness of her splendor and her glory. At such times, bright thoughts and fancies come and go, like the visions of a better land. Yet how few are the gen- uine lovers of Nature — persons who adore the visible majesty of the universe in all the countless forms in which it is made manifest to the human eye ; who regard the stars, the sea, and the mountains with appropriate feelings ; whose ears, like the chords of the wind harp, can extract music from every passing breeze, and whose thoughts penetrate beyond what is visible to the throne of the Invisible ! Want of acquaintance with natural objects, as well as familiarity with them from infancy to man- hood, disqualifies thousands for the true worship of nature. The Mammon-worshipers of the city see but little to admire in earth, ocean, or sky, and look upon every moment as wasted which is spent afar from the wearying si rife of business. But in every community there are those whose hearts are loyal to nature, and catch inspiration from all those objects which are hung, like the trophies of divine power, on the walls of the great temple of cre- ation. There is a language which is intelligible alike to civilized and savage man, that establishes a brotherhood throughout the world. It is articulated by the winds and streams, heard in the hoarse anthem of the stormy sea, and in the silence of the watches of the night, while its characters are seen in the lofty ranges of mountains and in the radiant landscapes. They who can appreciate this language have sources of happiness which are indestructible. They are true poets, whether they chain their feelings in verse, or whether their thoughts remain un- Bpoken, unwritten, and unsung. For there is a poetry of the heart as well as of the mind, and though the former may never be uttered to the delight of thousands, yet it is an ever-abiding fountain of bliss to him who possesses it. South Carolina. — Hatni. If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President, that may challenge comparison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that suite is 220 ROSS'S SPEAKER. South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the revolution up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made, no service she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity ; but in your ad- versity she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs, though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound ; every man be- came at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the South, during the revolu- tion ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. Never was there ex- hibited, in the history of the world, higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance, than by the whigs of Carolina during the revolution. The whole state, from the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. " The plains of Carolina " drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black, smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habitation of her children. Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sus- tained by the example of her Sumpters and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible. Massachusetts and South Carolina, — Wbbbtkb. The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her revolution- ary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acicnowledge that the honorable member goes before me, in re- gard for whatever of distinguished talent or dist ; nguished charac- ter South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor ; I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all — the Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Marions, — Americans all, — whose MASSACHUSETTS AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 22\ fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than theii talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation they served and honored the country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the treas- ures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gen- tleman himself bears — does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his suffering, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit in Carolina a name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom? No, sir — increased gratification and delight rather. Sir, I thank God that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senale, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state or neighbor- hood ; when I refuse for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sin- cere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an uncom- mon endowment of Heaven — if I see extraordinary capacity or virtue — in any son of the South, and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by state jealousy, I get up here to abate a tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa chusctts. She needs none. There she is ; behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history ; the world knows il by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill ; and there they will remain forever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it 6till lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it; if folly and mad- ness, if uneasiness under salutary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made ?ure, — it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm, with what- ever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gathered around it ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proi.;d est monuments of its glory, and on the very spot of its origin. K* Z22 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Parly Spirit. — m. b. Lamah. Party spirit is more to be shunned than any other vice, nol :m!y for its disastrous consequences, but because of the prone- ness of nature to run into it. We are all more or less, at times, secretly tinctured with the feeling, and have to rise superior to it by the force of reason and virtue : he will not be able to do it who parleys for a single moment with his duty. The vice is a deceitful one. It often wears the mask of patriotism ; and under this flattering disguise, it wins the undiscerning like a har- lot in array. The vicious woo it, enamored of its prostitutions, whilst many worthy citizens and public men are seduced to its embraces from its outward similitude to virtue. But no matter in what bosom it finds its way ; or in what assembly it may prevail, wherever it strikes its poisonous roots, it never fails, sooner or later, to extirpate every virtuous sentiment and generous impulse. It is a baneful Upas, that permits no moral flower to flourish in its shade. The individual who bows to its dominion can never generate a noble purpose ; the politician who consults its authority is recreant to liberty ; and the nation that shall become drunk with its infernal fires will most assuredly forfeit the favor of Heaven, and become the self-inflicter of a righteous punish- ment. Its march is from folly to madness, from madness to crime, from crime to death. Its votaries may change their livery, but to be a violent partisan once is to be a partisan for life ; he is a spell-bound being, whose infatuations may drive him, as occasions require, from turpitude to turpitude, until the very blood of infancy becomes the Falernian of his revels. It is useless to confirm these truths by historical example ; for what is all history but a record of the bloody march of fac- tion ? Every page is burdened with wars, not for the sacred liberties of man, but for the unhallowed exaltation of contending aspirants. Do you turn to the ancient mistress of the world ? — where is the patriot that doth not sigh at the civil strifes that seated Sylla upon bleeding Rome, and his rival on the ruins of Carthage ? Do you look to that sea-encircled nation whose re- sentful Roses would not bloom together ? — who doth not mark in the broils of York and Lancaster a melancholy monument of the folly and madness of party ? Or will you turn for a moment to that lovely region of the olive and the vine, where the valleys are all smiling and the peo- ple are all cheerful ? — who that hath a spark of nature in hi* PARTY SPIRIT. 223 soul doth not weep at the horrid atrocities perpetrated under the in me of liberty, by Robespierre and his bloody coadjutors, dic- ing the reign of the Jacobin faction in revolutionary France ? These examples, by way of melancholy warning, may serve to show the unnatural lengths into which deluded and infatuated man will hurry when once enlisted under the proscriptive ban- ner of party. The Same, continued. If any other exhibition of the direful effects of party spirit De wanting, it is furnished in the history of a people whose career is familiar to us all. Look at Mexico. A few years ago she awoke from a lethargy of centuries, and in the majesty of eight millions of people, shook Castilian bondage from her, like il dew drops from a lion's mane." But see her now — the miserable victim of self-oppression and debasement ; torn to pieces by civil discord ; bleeding at every pore by party rage ; her re- sources exhausted, her strength defied, and her very name despised. These are the bitter fruits of that dreadful mania which makes a whole people offer up, at the shrine of dema- gogues, that devotion and sacrifice which is due alone to their country. Mexico had the chivalry to conquer, without virtue to profit by it. Her patriots achieved independence, and demagogues ruined her hopes. Enemy as she is to us, I am not a foe to her freedom ; for next to the safety and welfare of my own land, I should rejoice to see our free principles and liberal institutions ingrafted into her government, so that they might finally spread their benign influence over the whole continent of America. Once we had the promise of this in the opening career of a bold champion of freedom, who, sick of the woes of his distracted country, called upon the virtuous of all parties to unite with him in the expulsion of faction, and in the chastisement of a bloated priesthood. He published to his countrymen a system of gov- ernment which promised order, stability, and safety. It was received with acclamation. Thousands gathered round his standard. They came with high hopes and devoted hearts. The cannon soon spoke upon the mountains, and the enemies of order trembled. Foes fled before him — Rebellion hid his head, and even audacious Bigotry quailed in the glance of his eye. He was born to command ; and all voices hailed him the savior of his country. 224 ROSS'S SPEAKER. But mark the sequel. No sooner was he firmly planted ir. power, the idol of the people, with every obstacle removed to the introduction of his new order of things, all eyes expecting and all hearts desiring it, when, lo ! the veil — the silver veil — was drawn aside, and instead of the mild features of the pat- riot, the foul visage of Mokanna, with its terrific deformity, burst upon the astonished nation, and " grinned horribly a ghastly smile." And did not a thousand weapons leap indignantly from their scabbards to avenge such perfidy ? No, surely. His duped and deluded followers " dropp'd some n: ural tears, but wiped them soon ; " and instead of seeking merited vengeance, became more wedded to the traitor ; so that he still went on, conquering and to conquer, until he waved his banner over bleeding Zacatecas, and stamped, in the burning characters of hell, his eternal shame on the walls of Bexar. And do you ask the moral of this tale ? The discerning mind will read in it the awful truth — that party is as cruel as the grave ; that its bonds are as strong as death ; that there is no receding from its unhallowed infatuations, and that he who enrolls his name under its bloody flag divorces himself from humanity, and forever sells his soul to the powers of darkness. Party Spirit. — Hejotb. clay, I have seen many periods of great anxiety, of peril, and of danger in this country, but I have never before risen to address any assemblage, so oppressed, so appalled, and so anxious. And I hope it will not be out of place to do here what I have done again and again in my private chamber — to implore Him who holds the destinies of nations and individuals in his hands, to bestow upon our country his blessing, to calm the violence and rage of party, to still passion, to allow reason once more to re- sume its empire. And may I not also ask Him to bestow upon his humble servant the blessing of his smiles, and strength and ability to perform the work which now lies before him ? If I should venture to trace the cause of our present dangers, difficulties, and distractions to its original source, I should ascribe it to the violence and intemperance of party spirit. I know the jealousies, the fears, and the apprehensions which are engen- dered by it ; but if there be in my hearing now, or out of this Capitol, any one who hopes, in his race for honors and elevation THE .MOTHER OF WASHINGTON. 225 for higher honors and higher elevation than that he maj now occupy, I beg him to believe that I will never jostle him ii the pursuit of those honors or that elevation. I assure him, ii' my wishes prevail, my name shall never be used in competition with his ; for when my service is terminated in this body, my mission, so far as respects the public affairs of this world, is closed — and closed forever- It is impossible for us not to perceive that party spirit and future elevation mix more or less in all our affairs, in ai our deliberations. At a moment when the White House is in da. ger of conflagration, instead of all hands uniting to extinguisi. the flames, we are contending about who shall be its next occupant. It is passion and party spirit which I dread in the adjustment of the great questions which unhappily, at this time, divide our distracted country. Two months ago, all was calm, in compari- son to the present moment. Now, all is uproar and confusion, and menace to the existence of the Union, and to the happiness and safety of this people. I entreat you, by all you expect hereafter, and by all that is clear to you here below, to repress the ardor of these passions, to 3ubdue the violence of party spirit, to listen to the voice of reason and look to the interests of your country. The Mother of Washington. -Mm siooumcm. Long hast thou slept unnoted ! Nature stole In her soft ministry around thy bed, And spread her vernal coverings, violet-gemmed, And pearled with dews. She bade bright Summer bring Gifts of frankincense, with sweet song of birds And Autumn cast his yellow coronet Down at thy feet, — and stormy Winter speak Hoarsely of man's neglect. But now we come To do thee homage, mother of our chief! — Fit homage — such as honoreth him who pays. Methinks we see thee, as in olden time, — Simple in garb — majestic and serene — Unawed by " pomp and circumstance " — in truth Inflexible, — and with a Spartan zeal Repressing Vice, and making Folly grave. 15 'WG ROSS'S SPEAKER. T%om didst not deem it woman's part to waste Life in inglorious sloth, to sport a while Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave, Then fleet like the ephemeron away, — Building no temple in her children's hearts, Save to the vanity and pride of life, Which she had worshiped. Of the might that clothed The " Pater Patriae," — of the deeds that won A nation's liberty, and earth's applause, Making Mount Vernon's tomb a Mecca haunt For patriot and for sage, while time shall last, — What part was thine, what thanks to thee are due Who, 'mid his elements of being, wrought With no uncertain aim — nursing the germs Of godlike Virtue in his infant mind, We knoic not — Heaven can tell. Rise, noble pile, And show a race unborn who rests below, And say to mothers, what a holy charge Is theirs — with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind — Warn them to wake at early dawn, and sow Good seed before the world doth sow its tares, Nor in their toil decline, — that angel hands May put the sickle in, and reap for God, And gather to his garner. Ye, who stand, With thrilling breast and kindling cheek, this moit Viewing the tribute that Virginia pays To the blest mother of her glorious chief, Ye, whose last thought upon your nightly couch, Whose first at waking, is your cradled son — What though no dazzling hope aspires to rear A second Washington, — or leave your name Wrought out in marble with your country's tears Of deathless gratitude, — yet may ye raise A monument above the stars — a soul Led by your teachings and your prayers to God THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 227 The Lone Star of Texas. — Webb. The brilliancy of its dawn gives token of a bright and glorious future. What eye that beheld that star arise but became ani- mated and fired in the gaze upon its transcendent beauty, itt- wavering light, its divine struggles to gleam in the ascendant * Its feeble glimmer was first discerned amid the storm and tern pest : occasionally, as the wrathful clouds would separate, its faint ray of youthful light and hope would dart forth, sprinkling, as with "the roseate blush of morn, the thick panoply of surround- in"- Moom, and finding its way to the deep recesses of many a patriot bosom. The thunder of tyranny and the storms of oppression being well nigh exhausted, this bright and beautiful, this lone star was seen standing out upon the broad and silvery heaven of Texas, in solitary but bold relief. No sister star was near to lend the light of her countenance, or greet it with an approving smile. Not a beam which ema- nated from its effulgence was borrowed : not a ray of light did it cast over a benighted land, but was given forth from its own brilliant and exhaustless orbit. Brighter and purer did it shine as it continued to rise and mount into the high heaven of hope and promise, but not without sometimes almost failing to give token of its presence ; it flickered, as with expiring energy, over the fierce and unequal conflict at Conception ; it was seen faintly glimmering over the gory plain of Goliad, and sending out the last ray of its hope upon the awful scene of the Alamo. It moved despondingly through all these scenes of bloody strife, presided at each mortal combat, cheered the weak and despairing, and shone with fearful dimness in that hour, when the light of mortality of a Fannin and his brave companions was surrounded in the night of eternal infamy. Rut lo ! where next doth gleam this single star ? Over the immortal struggle of San Jacinto it hangs suspended ; its light has relumed ; its rays enkindlr; with a sweeter, brighter, more entrancing fire; the battle rages ; the fight is desperate, deadly ; the neighing of the war steed, the groaning of the dying soldier, the piercing, star- tling, enthusiastic cry of" Remember the Alamo," all went up to heaven in a solemn league, and as they passed away, " the lone star of Texas" blazed forth in resplendent beauty and brightness, reflecting all over the consecrated ground of Jacinto a light in which was seen written in blazing capitals, Victory ! Liberty ! Texas is free / 228 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Classics. — De. Church. Perm t me on this occasion to call your attention to one study which you may possibly be disposed to relinquish, or to consider less worthy your attention than others. Continue to cultivate a taste for classical learning. Lay not aside those inimitable 'incient authors, who have formed the tastes and constituted the models of the first minds which have adorned and blessed the world. The mere superficial scholar may doubt their utility. He who has never discovered their beauties may assert that they have none. And so may thousands, who attempt to gather gold from the surface of your mountains, or to glean a few particles which have been deposited in your valleys, assert that there are not rich exhaustless stores within the reach of patient perseverance and untiring labor. If experience have any authority, the study of ancient literature is not useless, and the time devoted to the acquisition of classical learning, instead of being wasted, is most profitably spent. Who have done most honor to themselves, as well as been most useful to their fellow-men, in the learned professions ? Who have stood with faithfulness at the helm of state, and guided with most wisdom and success the destinies of nations ? What mod- ern historians are read with most pleasure and with most profit ? and whose writings now form our standard works of taste ? To show the value of classical learning to the public speaker, we need only refer to the history of modern eloquence. With what ease did the classic Emmet rivet the attention and excite the admiration of his audience ! With what magic spell did the classic quotations and allusions of Randolph drop from his lips ! and with what agony did his opponents often writhe beneath that lash which the polished Greek and the enlightened Roman had put into his hands ! Few mental exercises are, perhaps, more profitable to the student than the critical study of the Greek and Roman classics ; and so numerous are the allusions to these, in even English literature, that many of its finest por- tions and most exquisite beauties must be measurably lost to him who understands not the ancient languages. NEW ORLEANS. 229 Industry. — Lumpkik. To live in such a world and age as this brings with it immense obligations — a world redeemed with the blood of the Son 01 God ; an age which prophets and patriarchs desired to see, bui died without the sight ; a spot of time most interesting in the eye of Heaven, and which, beyond any past period, has witnessed the most splendid achievements of mind over matter. You stand, as it were, under an opening heaven, by the tomb of a world rising from the slumber of ages. Can any be stupid, be half awake, in such a day ? Stand erect, I entreat you. Let every nerve, mental and bodily, be strung to action. Give your days and nights to labor and study. Soon you will be ranked among the legislators, magistrates, or interpreters of the laws or religion of your country. With what diligence, in this spring season of life, should you prepare yourselves for the faithful discharge of offices so arduous and important ! Shall indolence, or the degrading love of ease and pleasure, like a blighting mildew, blast your improvement in the bud, destroy the fond hopes of parents and friends, and the specu- lations of your country ? Rest assured that, without patient in- dustry, the greatest talents and advantages will be fruitless. Look to the Platos and Ciceros of antiquity, the Boyles, New- tons, and Lockes of modern times ; and they all, with one accord, will tell you that industry was the secret by which they were enabled to perform such wonders. New Orleans. — J. N. Mappit Along the streets of the city of peace and commerce no tyrant king ever thunders with subject monarchs chained to his wheel ; he brings no curse upon her busy streets from the ago- nizing groans of widowed and orphaned millions. Here all is life, activity, generous excitement, the rivalry of benevolence, and the proudest triumphs of mind. Such is New Orleans. The din of commerce rolls along her streets by night and by day, as the voice of many waters. She sits as a queen upon her alluvial Delta, and the proud, deep Gulf of Mexico, like a monarch's bowl at a feast, pours the rushing libations of its tides at her feet She reaches one arm and em- braces the Rocky Mountains, while with the other she plays with 230 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the silver lakes of tne north. She sends her couriers ever the sounding seas, and every gale under heaven kisses her whitening sails, and 'aughs through the cordage of her laden ships. We stand near the consecrated ground over which hung the cloud, and along which roared the iron storm of battle. The unconquered, the unpillaged city is around ; her towers are un scathed ; the columns that deployed down on yonder plain are now in the world of spirits ; and memory and generous feelings of humanity spread the pall of oblivion over the prostrate, hum- bled foe. Never again shall the foot of violence tread the soil defended by the veterans of the eighth of January. Taught by a lesson forever emblazoned on the parchment of historic fame, the warriors of other lands shall avoid the grave of British valor, and offer no violence to the metropolis of the western world, as she gathers her future power and splendor around her. I am not a visionary; yet when I look forward into the future, I am astonished at what severe probability unfolds as the desti- nies of this city of the South. I strain my aching eyes to catch the far off frontiers of the great vale, through which the Father of Waters rolls his majestic flood in turbid grandeur ; but it is too far for the vision of man. I exhaust horizon after horizon, and yet the end is not. Thousands of miles away, to the right and to the left, I see every leaping rill that comes laughing down the sides of the mountains pointing its way, laden with all that agriculture can create, or commerce ask for, toward this city. Hills as far distant from each other as the midnight from the sunrise, pay their tribute of bright waters to the ocean's eldest born, whose last deep tone of inland music rolls like the muffled drums of a solemn pageant in the ears of this vast city. Des- tined to realize more of the actual efficacy of wealth and moral power than the hundred-gated Thebes of olden time, or that proud city whose ruins strew the Delta of the Nile, — the Alex- andria that was, — the New Orleans of the new world shall first conquer the diseases of climate, as she conquered the quondam invaders of Peninsular Europe ; and then, as she has braved the overflow of the king of rivers, and rolled back his floods, so shall her arm of power rear her thousand edifices of splendor and luxury, and at the same time the solemn temples sacred to eternity THE LOSS OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. ^31 150 On the Adoption of the Constitution. — E. Randolpr I have labored for the continuance of the Union — the rock of our salvation. I believe that as sure as there is a God in heave*i our safety, our political happiness and existence, depend on the union of the states ; and that, without this union, the people of this and the other states will undergo the unspeakable calamities which discord, faction, turbulence, war, and bloodshed have pro- duced in other countries. The American spirit ought to be mixed with American pride — pride to see the union magnifi- cently triumphant. Let that glorious pride which once defied the British thundci reanimate you. Let it not be recorded of Americans, that, after having performed the most gallant exploits, after having overcome the most astonishing difficulties, and after having gained the admiration of the world by their imcomparable valor and policy, they lost their acquired reputation, their national conse- quence and happiness, by their own indiscretion. Let no future historian inform posterity that they wanted wisdom and virtue to concur in any regular, efficient government. Should any writer, doomed to so disagreeable a task, feel the indignation of an hon- est historian, he would reprehend and recriminate our folly with equal severity and justice. Catch the present moment ; seize it with avidity and eagerness, for it may be lost never to be regained. If the union be now lost, I fear it may remain so forever. I believe gentlemen are sincere in their opposition, and actuated by pure motives ; but when 1 maturely weigh the advantages of the union, and dreadful consequences of its dissolution ; when I see safety on my right, and destruction on my left ; when I behold respectability and happiness acquired by the one, but annihilated by the other, — . cannot hesitate to decide in favor of the former. The Loss of National Character. — Maxby. The loss of a firm national character, or the degradation of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude to her destruction. Be- hold the once proud fabric of a Roman ompire — an empire carrying its arts and arms into every part of the eastern conti- nent ; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms dragged at the wheels of her triumphal chariots; hrr eagle waving over the ruins of 232 ROSS'S SPEAKER. desoiated countries. Where are her splendor, her wealth her power, her glory ? Extinguished forever. Her mouldering temples, the mournful vestiges of her former grandeur, afford a shelter to her muttering monks. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her philosophers, her orators, her generals ? Go to their solitary tombs and inquire. She lost her national character, and her destruction followed. The ramparts of her national pride were broken down, and Vandalism desolated her classic fields. Citizens will lose their respect and confidence in our govern- ment, if it does not extend over them the shield of an honorable national character. Corruption will creep in and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious leaders will seize upon the favorable mo- ment. The mad enthusiasm for revolution will call into action the irritated spirit of our nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our countrymen may yet glitter on our mountains, their blood may yet crimson our plains. Such, the warning voice of all antiquity, the example of all republics, proclaim, may be our fate. But let us no longer indulge these gloomy antici- pations. The commencement of our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter period to the world. That bold, enterprising spirit which conducted our heroes to peace and safety, and gave us a lofty rank amid the empires of the world, still animates the bo- soms of their descendants. Look back to the moment when they unbarred the dungeons of the slave, and dashed his fetters to the earth ; when the sword of a Washington leaped from its scabbard to revenge the slaugh- ter of our countrymen. Place their example before you. Let the sparks of their veteran wisdom flash across your minds, ana the sacred altars of your liberty, crowned with immortal honors, rise before you. Relying on the virtue, the courage, the patri- otism, and the strength of our country, we may expect our na» tional character will become more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may hail the age as not far distant, when will be heard, as the proudest exclamation of man — I am an American Influence of National Glory. —Clay. We are asked, What have we gained by the war ? I have shown that we have lost nothing in rights territory, or honor ; nothing for which we ought to have contended, according to the principles of the gentlemen on the other side, or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the war? Let any i*at INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL GLORTt. 233 look at the degraded condition of this country before the war, — the scorn of the universe, the contempt of ourselves, — and tell mo if we have gained nothing by the war. What is our present situation ? Respectability and character abroad, security and confidence at home. If we have not obtained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of retribution, our character and consti- tution are placed on a solid basis, never to be shaken. The glory acquired by our gallant tars, by our Jacksons and our Browns on the land — is that nothing ? True, we had our vicissitudes ; there were humiliating events which the patriot can not review without deep regret ; but the great account, when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our favor. Is there a man who would obliterate from the proud pages of our history the brilliant achievements of Jackson, Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes on land and sea, whom I can not enu- merate ? Is there a man who could not desire a participation in the national glory acquired by the war ? Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may be condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine patriot. What do I mean by national glory ? Glory such as Hull, Jackson, and Perry have acquired. And are gentlemen insen- sible to their deeds, to the value of them in animating the coun- try in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Thermopylae preserve Greece but once ? Whilst the Mississippi continues to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the Alleghanies to her Delta and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth of January shall be remembered, and the glory of that day shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn freemen in driving the presumptuous invader from our country's soil. Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility to feelings inspired by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, Does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown afford them no pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice to the country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has its bene- ficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony, the nation's inheritance. They awe foreign powers ; they arouse and ani- mate our own people. I love true glory. It is this sentiment which ought to be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will finally conduct this nation to rhat hight to which God and Nature have destined it. 234 ROSS'S SFEAKEJL War with Frmce. — Jomt J. Crittbndbh. I agree with the honorable senator that France owes ua twenty-five millions of francs, and that she assigns an insufficient reason for withholding payment. But this is the whole head and front of her offending. We have no other complaint against her. Would it be expedient and proper for us to make war for such a cause ? There is no other cause of complaint on our part. France has in no way offended against us on this occasion, except only by her failure to pay the money in question. Shall we go to war to enforce its payment ? It is needless to discuss the question. Thank God, the danger of this war has passed by, and we have, as I believe, an almost certain assurance of reconciliation and peace with France. Such an issue of this controversy can not be regarded otherwise than as a matter of public congratulation. If war had been its result, I should have contributed all that was in my humble power to render my country successful in that war. War of itself would have been a sufficient reason for me to take my country's side, without reference to its cause. But, sir, I must confess that I should have been most loth to witness any such war as that with which we have been threatened. A war with whom, and for what ? A war with France, our first, our ancient ally, whose blood flowed for us, and with our own, in the great struggle that gave us our freedom and made us a nation. A war for money ! a petty, paltry sum of money ! I know of no instance, certainly none among the civilized nations of modern times, of a war waged for such an object ; and if it be among the legitimate causes of war, it is surely the most inglo. rious of them all. It can afford but little of that generous inspi- ration which in a noble cause gives to war its magnanimity and : ts glory. War for money must ever be an ignoble strife. On .ts barren fields the laurel can not flourish. In the sordid contest but little honor can be won, and Victory herself is almost despoiled if her triumph. If we should attempt by war to compel France to pay the money in question, none who know the two nations can doubt but the contest would be fierce, bloody, and obstinate. Suppose, however, that our success is such as finally to enable us to dic- tate terms to France, and to oblige her to pay the money. Im- agine, Mr. President, that the little purse, the prize of war and carnage, is at last obtained. There it is, sir, stained with the blood of Americans, and of Frenchmen! their ancient friends, TOE UNION. 235 Could you, sir, behold or pocket that blood-stained purse withou some emotions of pain and remorse ? The Union. — Andrew P. Butlbb. There has been much said about the feeling of a portion of this Union, as being ready to dissolve it. I am not to be terrified or controlled by any imputations of that kind. This Union has its uses, just according to the use that is made of it. It may be used as a great trust to effect the greatest ends that time ever committed to human institutions ; and it is in the power of patriots and statesmen to make it subserve these ends. But when it shall be made a mere instrument of partial legislation, and to pander to the views and ends of hypocritical demagogues, it will cease to be an object of veneration, unless its worshipers shall be like those of .Juggernaut, who regard it as a pious service to prostrate themselves and be crushed by the wheels of his car. I believe I am one of its real friends, and the charge of criminal design upon its duration comes with an ill grace from those who have adhered to selfish and unjust purposes. Those who have introduced here the doctrines which we aro called upon to question have no right to measure the extent of my opposition. What that measure will be I do not know. I am willing to accede to any peaceful constitutional measure which will tend to preserve the Union itself; these means may be too long disregarded ; there is a limit. I am astonished when I hear the language sometimes used by the representatives from the "old thirteen ; " from Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, and New Jersey, making war upon their brethren of the southern sections of the Union, which seems to me but the policy that results in their own suicide. They give way to these wild, fanatical suggestions of policy in disregard of those admonitions which should address themselves to them from their past history, as well as in view of their future destiny. They arc waging a war against their interest, under the influence of feelings which were inculcated by their ancestors, and sowing the seeds of disunion. I have said what I designed to say at this time ; but with a 1 would, if I dared, make a suggestion to the administration, which has now, in a measure, the control of the destinies of this country ; ami it would he. thai they should not experiment upon the disaf- fection which exists in one portion of this Union. I know, sir, it 2»6 ROSS'S SPEAKER. is deeper, far deeper, than has ever been exhibited on this floor. I fear it has been too much disguised. And it is not confinsd to South Carolina, as some seem to consider. Some would be glad to see her isolated from others, and thereby made an easier victim. The people of other southern states are speaking out, and if events are not arrested, there will be but one voice, and that voice will come from the mass of the people. The press and politicians can not much longer delude them. What state may be the first to be involved in measures of resistance I know not. South Carolina has sometimes cried out as a sentinel. But there are others having greater interests at stake, and which will be put ultimately in great danger. They will look to their security and interests, and all will move as one man. It is for those who have the destinies of this nation in their hands to say how far they will respect the feelings of the South. The Union. — d. 8. diomnsow. But a few days since, I visited the hall where the immortal Washington, after carving out the liberty which we, in common with twenty-five mdlions of our fellow -beings, this day enjoy, with a victorious, yet unpaid army, who adored him, under his command, surrendered his commission and his sword voluntarily to the representatives of a few exhausted colonies. That sublime occasion yet imparts its sacred influences to the place, and there is eloquence in its silent walls. But where, said I, are the brave and patriotic spirits who here fostered the germ of this mighty empire ? Alas ! they have gone to their rewards, and the clods of the valley lie heavily on their hearts ; while we, their ungrate- ful children, with every element of good before us, forgetting the mighty sacrifices they made for their descendants, trifle with the rich blessings we inherited, and are ready, with sacrilegious hands, to despoil the temple of liberty which they reared by years of toil and trial, and cemented in blood and tears. O, could we not have deferred this inhuman struggle until the departure from amongst us of the revolutionary soldier, with his bowed and tottering frame, and his once bright eye dimmed ? Ask him the cost of liberty, and he will " shoulder his crutch and show how fields were won," and tell you of its priceless value. And yet we are shamelessly struggling in his sight, like mer- cenary chi.dren, for the patrimony, around the death bed of * THE UNION. 231 common parent, by whose industry and exertion it was accumu- lated, before the heart of him who gave them existence had ceased to pulsate. Amid all these conflicts, it has been my policy to give peace and stability to the Union, to silence agita- tion, to restore fraternal relations to an estranged brotherhood, and to lend my feeble aid in enabling our common country to march onward to the glorious fruition which awaits her. I have opposed, and will hereafter oppose, the monster disunion, in any and every form, and howsoever disguised, or in whatsoever con- dition — whether in the germ, or the stately upas, with its wide- spread branches ; whether it comes from the North or the South, or the East or the West ; and whether it consists in denying the South her jst rights, or in her demanding that to which she is not entitled. The union of these states, in the true spirit of the constitution, is a sentiment of my life. It was the dream of my early years ; it has been the pride and joy of manhood ; and, if it shall please Heaven to spare me to age, I pray that ks abiding beauty may beguile my vacant and solitary hours. I do not expect a sudden disruption of the political bonds which unite the states of this confederacy ; but I greatly fear a growing spirit of jealousy, and discontent, and sectional hate, which must, if permitted to extend itself, finally destroy the beauty and harmony of the fabric, if it does not raze it to its foundation. It can not be maintained by force, and majorities in a confederacy should be admonished to use their power justly. Let no one suppose that those who have been joined together will remain so, despite the commission of mutual wrongs, because they have once enjoyed each other's confidence and affect ion and propriety requires them to remain united. A chafed spirit, whether of a community or an individual, may be goaded beyond endurance ; and the history of the world has proved that the sea- son of desperation which succeeds is awfully reckless of conse- quences. But woe be to him by whom the offence of disunion comes ! He will be held accursed when the bloody mandates of Herod a id Nero shall be forgiven, and be regarded as a greater monster .n this world than he who, to signalize his brutal ferocity reared a monument of thousands of human skulls, and, in the rext, "The common damned will shun his society, And look upon themselves as fiends less foul." 238 ROSS'S SPEAKER. A Defence of Daniel Webster. — Jons m. Claytow- Sir: In regard to the denunciation of the sentiment of my nonorahle friend from Massachusetts, I have something to say. The opinion expressed in this denunciation is, that it would be a natural and easy step for the senator from Massachusetts to take, to join the enemies of his country in war : in other words, to turn traitor, and merit by his treason the most ignominious of all deaths, with an immortality of infamy beyond the grave. And for what ? The senator from Massachusetts had expressed a preference for the constitution to the Capitol of his country. He had dared to declare that he prized the magna charta of Ameri- can liberty — the sacred bond of our union, the tie which binds together twelve millions of freemen — above the stones and mortar which compose the crumbling mass within whose walls we are assembled. " The very head and front of his offending hath this extent ; no more." No man here has questioned, in the most violent moments of party excitement, — not amidst the fiercest of all political strife, — his purity of purpose in debate. Grant to him, what all others who have any title to the character of gentlemen demand for themselves, that he believed what he said ; grant that, in his judgment, as well as that of many here, the very existence of our liberties is involved in the surrender of the principle he contended for ; grant that the concentration of legislative and executive power in the hands of a single man is the death blow to the constitution, and that the senator was right in considering the proposed appropriation as establishing the very principle which gave that fatal blow, — and who is he that, thus believ- ing, would support that proposition, because the guns of the enemy were battering at the walls of the Capitol ? Where is the coward, where is the traitor, who would not rather see the Capitol than the constitution of his country in ruins ? or who would lend himself to the establishment of a despotism among us, with a view to save this building for the despot to revel in ? Sir, in the days when Themistocles led the Athenians to victory at Salamis, he advised them to surrender their Capitol for the preservation of the constitution of their country. That gallant people rose under the impulse of patriotism as one man, and with a stern resolution to yield life itself rather than abandon their liberties, and surrender the proud privilege of legislating for themselves to the delegate of a Persian despot, who offe ed them " all their own dominions, together with an accessioo of THE EXPLOITS OF GENERAL TAYLOR. 239 territory ample as their wishes, upon the single condition that they should receive law and suffer him to preside in Greece "' At "that eventful period of their history, Crysilus alone proposed the surrender of their constitution to save the Capitol ; and they stoned him to death. The public indignation was not yet satis fied ; for the Athenian matrons then rose and inflicted the same punishment on his wife. Leaving their Capitol, and their noble city, rich as it was with the productions of every art, and glitter- ing all over with the proudest trophies and the most splendid temples in the world, — deserting, in the cause of free government, the very land that gave them birth, — they embarked on board their ships, and fought that battle, the name of which has made the bosoms of freemen to thrill with sympathy in all the ages that have followed it, and shall cause the patriot's heart to beai higher with emotion through countless ages to come. I repeat, sir, what no man who knows the senator from Mas- sachusetts has ever doubted, that he was sincere in declaring that he viewed the proposition under debate as involving the surrender of the most valuable trust reposed in us by the constitution to a single man, and as one which, while it delegates the legisla live power to the executive, establishes a precedent to prostrate the constitution forever. I do not feel, however, that his conduci needs vindication from me or any other ; for, although the transient spirit of party may have sought to obscure his exalted character in the eyes of those who are easily led by misrep- resentation into error, honorable fame has already encircled his temples with a wreath of unfading verdure, and impartial his- tory shall hereafter emphatically designate him, amidst all the compatriots of his day, as the able, the eloquent, the fearless champion and defender of his country's constitution. The Exploits of General Taylor. - Jefferson Davis. Mh. President: This whole country was thrown into one general burst of joy, our towns were illuminated, when the little army on the Rio Grande repulsed, heat on two fields, a Mexican army three times their number, advantageously posted, and fighting with obstinacy proportionate to their numerical superi- ority. But why recount it ? It was an army, according to the senator's dictum, which could have been held in check by two hundred and fifty Texan rang< rs. Is it true, sir, that those soldiers who had' spent their lives in acquiring their profession 5240 ROSS'S SPEAKER. with an aimy of two thousand men, than which none was ever more favorably composed for desperate service, old soldiers and young leaders, performed only what two hundred and fifty Texan rangers could have done so much more effectually ? Shades of Ringgold, Mcintosh, Barbour, Ridgely, and Duncan, and thou, the hero of the Mexican war, let not your ashes be disturbed. The star of your glory will never be obscured by such fogs and fleeting clouds as that. It will continue to shine brighter and brighter as long as professional skill is appreciated, or bravery is admired, or patriotism has a shrine in the American heart. But, sir, it was not alone in the United States that the military movements and achievements on the Rio Grande were viewed with admiration. The greatest captain of the age, the Duke of Wellington, the moment he saw the positions taken and the combinations made upon the Rio Grande, — the moment he saw the communication opened between the depot at Point Isabel and the garrison at Fort Brown, by that masterly movement of which the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma were a part, — exclaimed, that General Taylor is a general indeed And yet, sir, all history is to be rewritten, all the rapture and pride of the country at the achievements upon those bloody fields are to disappear, and the light of science to pale before the criticism of that senator by whom we are told that a little band of mounted riflemen could have done that which cost so many American lives and hecatombs of Mexicans. 1 have spoken thus as a simple duty, not from any unkindness to the senator, but that I might do justice to many of my com- rades, whose dust now mingles with the earth upon which they fought — that I might not leave unredressed the wrongs of the buried dead. I have endeavored to suppress all personal feeling, though the character of the attack upon my friend and general might have pardoned its indulgence. It is true that sorrow sharpens memory, and that many deeds of noblest self-sacrifice, many tender associations, rise now vividly before me. I remem- ber the purity of his character, his vast and varied resources ; and I remember how the good and great qualities of his heart were equally and jointly exhibited when he took the immense responsibility under which he acted at the battle of Buena Vista, fought after he had been recommended by his senior general to retire to Monterey. Around him stood those whose lives were in his charge, whose mothers, fathers, wives, and children would look to him for their return : those were there who had shared his fortunes on otner Selds ; some who, never having seen a battle, were eager for the APOSTROPHE TO WASHINGTON. 241 combat, without knowing how direful it would be ; immediately about him those loving and beloved, and reposing such confidence in their commander that they but waited his beck and will to do and dare. On him, and on him alone, rested the responsibility. It was in hk power to avoid it by retiring to Monterey, there to be invested and captured, and then justify himself under his instructions. He would not do it, but cast all upon the die, resolved to maintain his country's honor, and save his country's flag from trailing in the dust of the enemy he had so often beaten, or close the conqueror's career as became the soldier. His purpose never wavered, his determination never faltered: his country's honor to be untarnished, his country's flag to triumph, or for himself to find an honorable grave, was the only alternative he considered. Under these circumstances, on the morning of the 23d of February, that glorious but bloody conflict commenced. It won for him a chaplet that it would be a disgrace for an American to mutilate, and which it were an idle attempt to adorn. I leave it to a grateful country, which is conscious of his services, and possesses a discrimination that is not to be con- founded by the assertions of any, however high their position. Apostrophe to Washington. — Wbmtbh, [On the occasion of the laying of the corner stone of the new wing of the Capitol.] Fellow-citizens : What contemplations are awakened in our minds as we assemble hare to reenact a scene like that performed by Washington ! Methinks I see his venerable form now before me, as presented in the glorious statue by Houdon, now in the Capitol of Virginia. He is dignified and grave ; but concern and anxiety seem to soften the lineaments of his coun- tenance. The government over which he presides is yet in the crisis of experiment. Not free from troubles at home, he sees the world in commotion and arms all around him. He sees that i.r.'wsing foreign powers are half disposed to try the strength of the recently established American government. Mighty thoughts mingled with fears as well as with hopes, are struggling within him. He heads a short procession over these then naked fields, he crosses yonder stream on a fallen tree ; he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose original oaks of the forest stand a* thick around hi in as if the spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here he performs the appointed duty of the day. And now, fellow-citizens, if this vision were a reality, — -if 16 242 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Washington actually were now amongst us, — and if he could draw around him the shades of the great public men of his own days, patriots and warriors, orators and statesmen, and were to address us in their presence, would he not say to us, " Ye men of this generation, I rejoice and thank God for being able to see that our labors, and toils, and sacrifices were not in vain. You are prosperous, you are happy, you are grateful. The fire of liberty burns brightly and steadily in your hearts, while duty and the law restrain it from bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. Cherish liberty, as you love it ; cherish its secu- rities, as you wish to preserve it. Maintain the constitution which we labored so painfully to establish, and which has been to you such a source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the union of the states, cemented as it was by our prayers, our tears, and our Mood. Be true to God, to your country, and to your duty. So shall the whole eastern world follow the morning sun, to con- template you as a nation ; so shall all generations honor you, as they honor us ; and so shall that Almighty Power which so graciously protected us, and which now protects you, shower its everlasting blessings upon you and your posterity." Great father of your country, we heed your words ; we feel their force, as if you now uttered them with lips of flesh and blood. Your example teaches us, your affectionate addresses teach us, your public life teaches us, your sense of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings our fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. Nor do we intend that those who come after us shall be denied the same high fruition. Our honor, as well as our happiness, is concerned. We can not, we dare not, we will not, betray our sacred trust. We will not filch from posterity the treasure placed in our hands to be transmitted to other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds in the heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may disappear and fall away in the hour appointed by the will of God ; but until that day comes, or so long as our lives may last, no ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of union and lib- erty which spans the continent from Washington to California. The Power of Public Opinion. — >\ eb8tek, We are too much inclined to underrate the power of moral influence, and the influence of public opinion, and die influence of principles to which great men, the lights of the world and of THE POWER OF PUBLIC OPINION. 243 the age, have given their sanction. Who doubts that, in our own struggle for liberty and independence, the majestic eloquence of Chatham, the profound reasoning of Burke, the burning satire and irony of Colonel Barre, had influences upon our fortunes here in America ? They had influences both ways. They tended, in the first place, somewhat to diminish the confidence of the British ministry in their hopes of success, in attempting to subjugate an injured people. They had influence another way, because all along the coasts of the country, — and all our people in that day lived upon the coast, — there was not a reading man who did not feel stronger, bolder, and more determined in the assertion of his rights, when these exhilarating accounts from the two Houses of Parliament reached him from beyond the seas. He felt that those who held and controlled public opinion elsewhere were with us ; that their words of eloquence might produce an effect in the region where they were uttered ; and, above all, they assured them that, in the judgment of the just, and the wise, and the impartial, their cause was just, and they were right ; and therefore they said, We will fight it out to the last. Now, gentlemen, another great mistake is sometimes made. We think that nothing is powerful enough to stand before auto- cratic, monarchical, or despotic power. There is something strong enough, quite strong enough, — and, if properly exerted, will prove itself so, — and that is the power of intelligent public opinion in all the nations of the earth. There is not a monarch on earth whose throne is not liable to be shaken by the progress of opinion, and the sentiment of the just and intelligent part of the people. It becomes us, in the station which we hold, to let that public opinion, so far as we form it, have a free course. Let it go out ; let it be pronounced in thunder tones ; let it open he ears of the deaf; let it open the eyes of the blind ; and let it 3very where be proclaimed what we of this great republic think of the general principle of human liberty, and of that oppression which all abhor. Depend upon it, gentlemen, that between these two rival powers, — the autocratic power, maintained by arms and force, and the popular power, maintained by opinion, — ♦he former is constantly decreasing, and, thank God, the latter is constantly inc naming. Real human liberty and human rights arc gaining the ascendant; and the part which we have to act, in all this greal drama, is to show ourselves in favor of those rights, to uphold our ascendency, and to carry it on until wo unidl see it culminate in the highest heaven over our heads. 244 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Popular Excitement in Elections. — McDtrra. Sir, I not only maintain that the people are exempt from the charge of violence, but that there is a tendency to carry the feeling of indifference to public affairs to a dangerous extreme. From the peculiar structure and commercial spirit of modem society, and the facilities presented, in our country, for the acquisition of wealth, the eager pursuit of gain predominates over our concern for the affairs of the republic. This is, perhaps, our national foible. Wealth is the object of our idolatry, and even liberty is worshiped in the form of property. Although this spirit, by stimulating industry, is unquestionably excellent in itself, yet it is to be apprehended that, in a period of peace and tranquillity, it will become too strong for patriotism, and produce the greatest of national evils — popular apathy. We have been frequently told that the farmer should attend to his plough, and the mechanic to his handicraft, during the canvass for the presidency. Sir, a more dangerous doctrine could not be inculcated. If there is any spectacle from the contemplation of which I would shrink with peculiar horror, it would be that of the great mass of the American people sunk into a profound apathy on the subject of their highest political interests. Such a spectacle would be more portentous to the eye of intelligent patriotism than all the monsters of the earth, and fiery signs of the heavens to the eye of trembling supersti- tion. If the people could be indifferent to the fate of a contest for the presidency, they would be unworthy of freedom. If I were to perceive them sinking into this apathy, I would even apply the power of political galvanism, if such a power could be found, to rouse them from their fatal lethargy. Keep the people quiet ! Peace ! peace ! Such are the whispers by which the people are to be lulled to sleep, in the very crisis of their highest concerns. Sir, " you make a solitude, and call it peace." Peace ? 'Tis death ! Take away all interest from the people in the election of their chief ruler, and liberty is no more. What, sir, is to be the consequence ? If the people do not elect the president, somebody must. There is no special providence to decide the question. Who, then, is to make the election, and how will it operate ? You throw a general paralysis over the body politic, and excite a morbid action in particular members. The general patriotic excitement of the people, in relation to the election of the president, is as essential to the health and energy of the political THE HOUR OF DEATH. 24f> system as circulation of the blood is to the health and energy ot -lie natural body. Check that circulation, and you inevitably produce local inflammation, gangrene, and ultimately death. Make the people indifferent, destroy their legitimate influence, and you communicate a morbid violence to the efforts of those who are ever ready to assume the control of such affairs — the mercenary intriguers and interested office-hunters of the country. Tell me not, sir, of popular violence. Show me a hundred political factionists, — men who look to the election of a president as the means of gratifying their high or their low ambition, — and I will show you the very materials for a mob, ready for any desperate adventure connected with their common fortunes. The reason of this extraordinary excitement is obvious. It is a matter of self-interest, of personal ambition. The people can have no such motives. They look only to the interest and glory of the country. The Hour of Death. — Mat. Hbmaiw. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set ; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth. Youth and the opening rose May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee ; but thou art not of those That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey. We know when moons shall wane, When summer- birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain; But who shall teach us when to look for thee? Is it when spring's first gale Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie ? Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ? They have one season ; all are ours to die. 346 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Thou art where billows foam ; Thou art where music melts upon the air ; Thou art around us in our peaceful home ; And the world calls us forth, and thou art there. Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ; Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. The Destiny of the United States. — h. w. Hilliard. Sir, is not the language of Berkeley in the progress of fulfill ment, when he wrote that immortal line, — " Westward the star of empire takes its way " ? When Oregon shall be in our possession, when we shall have established a profitable trade with China through her ports, when our ships traverse the Pacific as they now cross the Atlan- tic, and all the countless consequences of such a state of things begin to flow in upon us, then will be fulfilled that vision which rapt and filled the mind of Nunez as he gazed over the placid waves of the Pacific. I will now address myself for a moment to the moral aspect of this great question. Gentlemen have talked much and eloquently about the horrors of war. I should regret the neces- sity of a war ; I should deplore its dreadful scenes ; but if the possession of Oregon gives us a territory opening upon the nation prospects such as I describe, and if, for the simple exercise of our rights in regard to it, Great Britain should wage war upon us, — an unjust war, — the regret which every one must feel will, at least, have much to counterbalance it. One of England's own writers has said, " The possible destiny of the United States of America, as a nation of one hundred millions of freemen, stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific, living under the laws of Alfred, and speaking the language of Shakspeare and Milton, is an august conception." It is an august conception, finely embodied ; and I trust in God that it will, at no distant time, become a reality. I trust that the world will see, through all time, our people living, not only under the laws of Alfred, but that they will be heard V> spesk THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 247 throughout our wide-spread borders the language of Shakspeare and Milton. Above all is it my prayer that, as long as our posterity shall continue to inhabit these mountains and plains, and hills and valleys, they may be found living under the sacred institutions of Christianity. Put these things together, and what a picture do they present to the mental eye ! Civilization and intelligence started in the East ; they have travelled, and are still travelling, westward ; but when they shall have completed the circuit of the earth, and reached the extremest verge of the Pacific shores, then, unlike the fabled god of the ancients, who dipped his glowing axle in the western wave, they will take up their permanent abode. Then shall we enjoy the sublime destiny of returning these blessings to their ancient seat ; then will it be ours to give the priceless benefits of our free institutions, and the pure and healthful light of the gospel, back to the dark family which nas so long lost both truth and freedom ; then may Christianity plant herself there, and while with one hand she points to the Polyne- sian isles, rejoicing in the late-recovered treasure of revealed truth, with the other present the Bible to the Chinese. It is our duty to aid in this great work. I trust we shall esteem it as much our honor as our duty. Let us not, like some of the British missionaries, give them the Bible in one hand and opium in the other, but bless them only with the pure word of truth. I hope the day is not distant — soon, soon may its dawn arise — to shed upon the farthest and the most benighted of nations the splendor of more than a tropical sun. The Famine in Ireland. — s. s. Pbentiss. Tin: re lies upon the other side of the wide Atlantic a beaua- ll island, famous in story and in song. It has given to the world more than its share of genius and of greatness. It has been prolific in statesmen, warriors, and poets. Its brave and generous suns have fought successfully in all battles but its own. In wit ami humor it has no equal; while its harp, like its history, ira by its sweel bul melancholy pathos. In this fair region God has seen lit to send the mosl terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfill his inscrutable decrees. Tin 1 earth failed to give her increase; the common mother has forgot- ten her offspring, and her breast no longer affords them their accustomed nourishment. Famine, gaunt ami ghastly famine, hot 248 BOSS'S SPEAKER. seized a nation with its strangling grasp ; and unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes of the present, forgets, for a moment, the gloomy history of the past. In battle, in the fullness of his pride and strength, little recks the soldier whether the hissing bullet sing his sudden requiem, or the cords of life are severed by the sharp steel. But he who dies of hunger wrestles alone, day after day, with his grim and unrelenting enemy. He has no friends to cheer him in the terrible conflict ; for if he had friends, how could he die of hunger ? He has not the hot blood of the soldier to maintain him ; for his foe, vampire-like, has exhausted his veins. Who will hesitate to give his mite to avert such awful results ? Give, then, generously and freely. Recollect that in so doing you are exercising one of the most godlike qualities of your nature, and at the same time enjoying one of the greatest luxu- ries of life. We ought to thank our Maker that he has permitted us to exercise equally with himself that noblest of even the divine attributes — benevolence. Go home and look at your family, smiling in rosy health, and then think of the pale, famine-pinched cheeks of the poor children of Ireland, and you will give according to your store, even as a bountiful Providence has given to you — not grudgingly, but with an open hand ; for the quality of benevolence, like that of mercy, " Is not strained; It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed : It blesses him that gives, and him that takes." New England and the Union.— s. s. Prentiss. Glorious New England ! thou art still true to thy ancient fame, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. On thy pleasant valleys rest, like sweet dews of morning, the gentle recollections of our early life; around thy hills and mountains cling, like gathering mists, the mighty memories of the revolution ; and far away in the horizon of thy past gleam, like thy own bright northern lights, the awful virtues of our Pilgrim sires. But while we devote this day to the remembrance of our native land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast. We exult in the reflection, that though we count by thousands the miles which separate us from our birthplace, still our country is KEPUBLICS. 249 ihe same. We are no exiles meeting upon the banks of a foreign river, to swell its waters with our homesick tears. Here floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish heads, except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering stars increased in number. The sons of New England are found in every state of the broad republic. In the East, the South, and the unbounded West, their blood mingles freely with every kindred current. We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion ; in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our brothers. To us the Union has but one domestic hearth ; its household gods are all the same. Upon us, then, peculiarly devolves the duty of feeding the fires upon that kindly hearth ; of guarding with pious care those sacred household gods. We can not do with less than the whole Union ; to us it admits of no division. In the veins of our children flows northern and southern blood : how shall it be separated ? Who shall put asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts of our nature ? We love the land of our adoption ; so do we that of our birth. Let us ever be true to both, and always exert ourselves in maintaining the unity of our country, the integrity of the republic. Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden cord of union ! thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shall propose its severance ! Republics.— Hugh 8. LbgasA. The name of republic is inscribed upon the most imperish- able monuments of the species, and it is probable that it will continue to be associated, as it has been in all past ages, with whatever is heroic in character, and sublime in genius, and elegant and brilliant in the cultivation of arts and letters. It would not be difficult to prove that the base hirelings who have so in tusly inculcated a contrary doctrine have been com- pelled to falsify history and abuse reason. It might be asked, triumphantly, whal land has ever been visited with the influences of liberty, thai has not flourished like the spring? Wha1 | pie baa ever worshiped at her altars vrithoul kindling with a loftier spirit and putting forth more noble energies ? Where has she ever ■acted that her deed i have no1 been heroic . ; Where has she ever spoken thai her eloquence has nol been triumphant and sublime ? V th respect to ourselves, would it not be enough to say that 250 ROSS'S SPEAKER. we live under a form of government and in a state of society to which the world has never yet exhibited a parallel ? Is it then nothing to be free ? How many nations in the whole annals of human kind have proved themselves worthy of being so ? Is it. nothing that we are republicans ? Were all men as enlightened, as brave, as proud as they ought to be, would they suffer them- selves to be insulted with any other title ? Is it nothing that so many independent sovereignties should be held together in such a confederacy as ours ? What does history teach us of the difficulty of instituting and maintaining such a polity, and of the glory that, of consequence, ought to be given to those who enjoy ts advantages in so much perfection and on so grand a scale ? For can any thing be more striking and sublime than the idea of an imperial republic, spreading over an extent of territory more immense than the empire of the Csesars, in the accumulated conquests of a thousand years — without prefects, or proconsuls, or publicans — founded in the maxims of common sense — employing within itself no arms but those of reason — and known to its subjects only by the blessings it bestows or perpetu- ates, yet capable of directing against a foreign foe all the energies of a military despotism — a republic in which men are completely insignificant, and principles and laws exercise, through- out its vast dominion, a peaceful and irresistible sway, blending in one divine harmony such various habits and conflicting opinions, and mingling in our institutions the light of philosophy with all that is dazzling in the associations of heroic achieve- ment and extended domination, and deep-seated and formidable power ! Eulogium on Franklin.— Mikabeau, Franklin is dead ! Restored to the bosom of the Divinity is that genius which gave freedom to America, and rayed forth torrents of light upon Europe. The sage whom two worlds claim — the man whom the history of empires and the historv of science alike contend for — occupied, it can not be denied, a lofty rank among his species. Long enough have political cabi- nets signalized the death of those who were great in their funeral eulogies only. Long enough has the etiq jette of courls prescribed hypocritical mournings. For their benefactors only, should na- tions assume the emblem of grief: and the representatives of nations should commend only the heroes of humanity to public veneration. UNION OF CHURCH AND STATE. 251 In the fourteen states of the confederacy, Congress has ordained a mourning of two months for the death of Frank.in • and America is at this moment acquitting herself of this tribute of honor to one of the fathers of her constitution. "Would it not become us, gentlemen, to unite in this religious act; to participate in this homage, publicly rendered at once to the rights of man and to the philosopher who has contributed most largely to their vindication throughout the world ? Antiquity would have erected altars to this great and powerful genius, who, to promote the welfare of mankind, comprehending both the heavens and the earth in the range of his thought, could at once snatch the bolt from the cloud and the sceptre from tyrants. France, enlightened and free, owes at least the acknowledgment of her remembrance and regret to one of the greatest intellects that ever served the united cause of philosophy and liberty. I propose that it be now decreed that the National Assembly wear mourning, during three days, for Benjamin Franklin. The Union of Church and State.— Mikabeau. We are reproached with having refused to decree that the Catholic religion, Apostolic and Roman, is the national religion. To declare the Christian religion national would be to dishonor it in its most intimate and essential characteristic. In general terms, it may be said that religion is not, and can not be, a relation between the individual man and society. It is a relation between him and the Infinite Being. Would you understand what was meant by a national conscience ? Religion is no more national than conscience. A man is not veritably religious in so far as he is attached to the religion of a nation. If there were but one religion in the world, and all men were agreed in professing it, it would be none the less true that each would have the sincere sentiment of religion so far only as he should be himself religious with a religion of his own; that is to say, so far only as he would be wedded to that universal religion, even though the whole human race were to abjure it. And so, from whatever point we consider religion, to term it national is to give it a designation insignificant or absurd. Would it be us the arbiter of its truth, or as the judge of its nptitude to form L. rf >< -< ! citizens, thai the legislature would make a religion constitutional ? But, in the first place, are there national truths ? In the second nlaoe nan it he ever useful to •252 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the public happiness to fetter the conscience of men by a law of the state ? The law unites us only in those points where adhe- sion is essential to social organization. Those points belong only to the superficies of our being. In thought and conscience men remain isolated ; and their association leaves to them, in these respects, the absolute freedom of the state of nature. What a spectacle would it be for those early Christians, who, to escape the sword of persecution, were obliged to consecrate their altars in caves or amid ruins, — what a spectacle would it be for them, could they this day come among us, and witness the glory with which their despised religion now sees itself envi- roned ; the temples, the lofty steeples bearing aloft the glittering emblem of their faith; the evangelic cross, which crowns the summit of all the departments of this great empire ! What a transporting sight for those who, in descending to the tomb, had seen that religion, during their lives, honored only in the lurking- places of the forest and the desert ! Methinks I hear them exclaim, even as that stranger of the old time exclaimed, on be- holding the encampment of the people of God, " How goodly ARE THY TENTS, O JACOB, AND THY TABERNACLES, O ISRAEL ! " Calm, then, ah, calm your apprehensions, ye ministers of the God of peace and truth. Blush rather at your incendiary exag- gerations, and no longer look at the action of this Assembly through the medium of your passions. We do not ask it of you to take an oath contrary to the law of your heart ; but we do ask it of you, in the name of that God who will judge us all, not to confound human opinions and scholastic traditions with the sacred and inviolable rules of the gospel. If it be contrary to morality to act against one's conscience, it is none the less so to form one's conscience after false and arbitrary principles. The obligation to form and enlighten one's conscience is anterior to the obligation to follow one's conscience. The greatest public calamities have been caused by men who believed they were obeying God, and saving their own souls. To the Revolutionary Veterans. — Daniel Wimtm. [On the laying of the corner stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, June Venerable men, you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now where you TO THE REVOLUTIONARY VETERANS. 253 stood, fifty years ago this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold, how altered ! The same heavens are indeed over your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; but all else, how changed ! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see now no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetuous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is manly to repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war and death, — all these you have witnessed ; but you witness them no more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its whole happy population come out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. All is peace ; and God has granted you this sight of your country's happiness ere you slumber in the grave for- ever. But, alas ! you are not all here. Time and the sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge ! — our eyes seek for you in vain amidst this broken band. But let us not too much grieve that you have met the common fate of men. You lived to see your country's independence established, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of liberty you saw arise the light of peace, like " Another morn Risen on midnoon ; " — and the sky on which you closed your eyes was cloudless. But — ah ! — him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! Him ! the head of our civil councils, and the destined leader of our military bands, whom nothing brought hither but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit ! Him ! cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; falling, ere he saw the star of his country rise ; pouring out his generous blood, like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of free- dom or of bondage! — how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thj came! Our poor work may per- ish, but thine shall endure I This monument may moulder away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level 254 ROSS'S SPEAKER. with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail. Wheresoever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy spirit. Veterans, you are the remnant of many a well-fought field. You bring with vou marks of honor fron Trenton and Mon- mouth, from Yorktown, Camden, Bennington, and Saratoga. Veterans of half a century ! when, in your youthful days, you put every thing at hazard in your country's cause, good as that cause was, and sanguine as youth is, still your fondest hopes did not stretch onward to an hour like this. Look abroad into this lovely land, which your young valor defended, and mark the happiness with which it is filled ; yea, look abroad into the whole earth, and see what a name you have contributed to give to your country, and what a praise you have added to freedom, and then rejoice in the sympathy and gratitude which beam upon your last days from the improved condition of mankind. Intelligence a National Safeguard. — Levi Woodbury. Our history constantly points her finger to a most efficient resource, and indeed to the only elixir, to secure a long life to any popular government, in increased attention to useful educa- tion and sound morals, with the wise description of equal measures and just practices they inculcate on every leaf of recorded time. Before their alliance the spirit of misrule will always, in time, stand rebuked, and those who worship at the shrine of unhallowed ambition must quail. Storms in the political atmosphere may occasionally happen by the encroach- ments of usurpers, the corruption or intrigues of demagogues, or in the expiring agonies of faction, or by the sudden fury of popular frenzy ; but, with the restraints and salutary influences of the allies before described, these storms will purify as health- fully as they often do in the physical world, and cause the tree of liberty, instead of falling, to strike its roots deeper. In this struggle the enlightened and moral possess also a power, auxiliary and strong, in the spirit of the age, which is not only with them, but onward, in every thing to ameliorate or improve. When the struggle assumes the form of a contest with power, in all its subtlety, or with undermining and corrupt ing wealth, as it sometimes may, rather than with turbulence, sedition, or open aggression by the needy and desperate, it wll THE PERMANENCE OF AMERICAN LIBERTY. 255 be indispensable to employ still greater diligence • to cherish earnestness of purpose, resoluteness in conduct , to apply hard and constant blows to real abuses, and encourage not only bold free, and original thinking, but determined action. In such a cause our fathers were men whose hearts were not accustomed to fail them through fear, however formidable the obstacles. We are not, it is trusted, such degenerate descendants as to prove recreant, and fail to defend, with gallantry and firm- ness as unflinching, all which we have either derived from them or since added to the rich inheritance. At such a crisis, there- fore, and in such a cause, yielding to neither consternation not despair, may we not all profit by the vehement exhortations of Cicero to Atticus ? " If you are asleep, awake ; if you are standing, move ; if you are moving, run ; if you are running, fly ! " All these considerations warn us — the gravestones of almost every former republic warn us — that a high standard of moral rectitude, as well as of intelligence, is quite as indispen- sable to communities, in their public doings, as to individuals, if they would escape from either degeneracy or disgrace. The Permanence of American Liberty. George McDutfie. The election of a chief magistrate by the mass of the people of an extensive community, was, to the most enlightened nations of antiquity, a political impossibility. Destitute of the art of printing, they could not have introduced the representative prin- ciple into their political systems, even if they had understood it. In the very nature of things, that principle can only be co- nsive with popular intelligence. In this respect the art of printing, more than any invention since the creation of man, is aed to change and elevate the political condition of society. It has given a new impulse to the energies of the human mind, and opens new and brilliant destinies to modern republics, which were utterly unattainable by the ancients. The existence of a country population, scattered over a vast extent of territory, as intelligent as the population of the cities, is a phenomenon which was utterly and necessarily unknown to the free stairs of antiquity. All the intelligence which controlled the destiny and upheld the dominion of republican Rome was confined to the walls of the great city, uvea when her dominion extended beyond Itaiy to the utmost known limits of the inhabited world, 256 ROSS'S SPEAKER. the city was the exclusive seat both of intelligence and em pire. Without the art of printing, and the consequent advantages of a free press, that habitual and incessant action of mind upon mind, which is essential to all human improvement, could no more exist, among a numerous and scattered population, than the commerce of disconnected continents could traverse the ocean without the art of navigation. Here, then, is the source of our superiority, and our just pride as a nation. The states- men of the remotest extremes of the Union can converse to- gether, like the philosophers of Athens, in the same portico, or the politicians of Rome in the same forum. Distance is over- come, and the citizens of Georgia and of Maine can be brought to cooperate in the same great object, with as perfect a com- munity of views and feelings as actuated the tribes of Rome in the assemblies of the people. It is obvious that liberty has a more extensive and durable foundation in the United States than it ever has had in any other age or country. By the repre- sentative principle — a principle unknown and impracticable among the ancients — the whole mass of society is brought to operate in constraining the action of power, and in the conser- vation of public liberty. Eulogy on Washington.— J. M. Mason. It must ever be difficult to compare the merits of Washing- ton's characters, because he always appeared greatest in that which he last sustained. Yet, if there is a preference, it must be assigned to the lieutenant general of the armies of Amer- ica. Not because the duties of that station were more arduous tban those which he had often performed, but because it more fully displayed his magnanimity. While others become great by elevation, Washington becomes greater by condescension. Matchless patriot ! to stoop, on public motives, to an inferior appointment, after possessing and dignifying the highest offices ! Thrice favored country which boasts of such a citizen ! We gaze with astonishment : we exult that we are Americans. We augur every thing great, *^nd good, and happy. But whence this sudden horror ? What means that cry of agony ? O, tis the shriek of America ! The fairy vision is fled : Washing- ton is — no more ! — " How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished ' " INTELLECTUAL AND COMMERCIAL WAISTS. 257 Daughters of America, who have prepared the festal bower and the laurel wreath, plant now the cypress grove, and water it with tears. Eulogy on Hamilton. —Worn. He stood on an eminence, and glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen — suddenly, forever fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended ; and those who would hereafter find him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and sightless, is the eye whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence ; and there, closed forever, are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often, and so lately, hung with transport. From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory ! how humble appears the majesty of gran- deur ! The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst ; and we again see that all below the sun is vanity. Approach, and behold, while I lift from his sepulcher its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale ! How silent ! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements ; no fascinated throng weep, and melt, and tremble at his eloquence. Amazing change ! A shroud ! a coffin ! a narrow, subterraneous cabin ! This is all that now remains of Hamilton. Intellectual and Commercial Wants. — J. C. Calhoun. The great principle of demand and supply govern the moral and intellectu;il world no less than the business and commercial. If a community be so organized as to cause a demand for high mental attainments, they are sure to be developed. If its honors and rewards are allotted to pursuits that require their develop- ment, by creating a demand for intelligence, knowledge, wisdom, justice, firmness, courage, patriotism, and the like, they are sure to l>< produced. But, if allotted to pursuits that require inferior quali'ies, the higher are sure to decay and perish. 258 ROSS'S SPEAKER. 1 object to the banking system, because it allots the honors and rewards of the community, in a very undue proportion, to a pursuit the least of all others favorable to the development of the higher mental qualities, intellectual or moral, to the decay of the learned professions, and the more noble pursuits of science, literature, philosophy, and statesmanship, and the great and more useful pursuits of business and industry. With the vast increase of its profits and influence, it is gradually concentrating in itself most of the prizes of life, — wealth, honor, and influence, — to the great disparagement and degradation of all the liberal, and useful, and generous pursuits of society. The rising generation can not but feel its deadening influence. The youths who crowd our colleges, and behold the road to honor and distinction terminating in a banking house, will feel the spirit of emulation decay within them, and will no longer be pressed forward by generous ardor to mount up the rugged steep of science, as the road to honor and distinction, when, perhaps, the highest point they could attain in what was once the most honorable and influential of all the learned professions, would be the place of attorney to a bank. The Patriotism of the West — Clat. No portion of your population is more loyal to the Union than the hardy freemen of the West. Nothing can weaken or eradi- cate their ardent desire for its lasting preservation. None are more prompt to vindicate the interests and rights of the nation from all foreign aggression. Need I remind you of the glorious scenes in which they participated during the late war — a war in which they had no peculiar or direct interest, waged for no commerce, no seamen of theirs. But it was enough for them that it was a war demanded by the character and the honor of the nation. They did not stop to calculate its costs of blood or of treasure. They flew to arms ; they rushed down the valley of the Mis- sissippi, with all the impetuosity of that noble river. They sought the enemy. They found him at the beach. They fought ; they bled ; they covered themselves and their country with immortal glory. They enthusiastically shared in all the transports occasioned by our victories, whether won on the ocean or on the land. They felt, with the keenest distress, whatever disaster befell us. No, sir, I repeat it, neglect, injury HECTOR'S ATTACK ON THE GRECIAN WALLS. 259 itself, can not alienate the affections of the West from this govern- ment. They cling to it as to their best, their greatest, thei. last hope. You may impoverish them, reduce them to ruin, b j the mistakes of your policy, but you can not drive them from 5 :>u. Hector's Attack on the Grecian Walls. — Poph's. .om Then godlike Hector and his troops contend To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend ; Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yiel Till great Sarpedon towered amid the field : In arms he shines, conspicuous, from afar, And bears aloft his ample shield in air, And while two pointed javelins arm his hands, Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands. So, pressed with hunger, from the mountain brow Descends a lion on the flocks below ; So stalks the lordly savage o'er the plain, In sullen majesty and stern disdain : In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar, And shepherds gall him with an iron war ; Regardless, furious, he pursues his way ; He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey. Unmoved, th' embodied Greeks their fury dare, And, fixed, support the weight of all the war; Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian powers, Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian towers. As, on the confines of adjoining grounds, Two stubborn swains with blows dispute their bounds. They tug, they sweat, but neither gain nor yield One foot, one inch of the contested field, Thus, obstinate to death, they fight, they fall ; Nor these can keep, nor those can win the wall. Their manly breasts are pierced with many a wound ; Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound ; The copious slaughter covers all the shore, And the high ramparts drop with human gore As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads, From side to side the trembling balance nods, 260 ROSS'S SPEAKER. (While some laborious matron, just and poor, With nice exactness weighs her woolly store,) Till, poised aloft, the resting beam suspends Each equal weight ; nor this, nor that, descends. So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, With fates prevailing, turned the scale of fight. Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies, And fires his hosts with loud-repeated cries. " Advance, ye Trojans ; lend your valiant hands , Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands." They hear, they run ; and, gathering at his call, Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall : Around the works a wood of glittering spears Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw, Pointed above, and rough and gross below : Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise Such men as live in these degenerate days. Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear The snowy fleece, he tossed, and shook in air : Thus armed, before the folded gates he came, Of massy substance and stupendous frame, With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, On lofty beams of solid timber hung : Then thundering through the planks, with forceful swaj Drives the sharp rock ; the solid beams give way ; The folds are shattered ; from the crackling door Leap the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar. Now rushing in, the furious chief appears, Gloomy as night, and shakes two shining spears : A dreadful gleam from his bright armor came, And from his eyeballs flashed the living flame. He moves a god, resistless in his course, And seems a match for more than mortal force. Then pouring after, through the gaping space A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place ; The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly ; The shore is heaped with death, and tumult rends the sky FOIiEIUN POLICY OF WASHINGTON. 261 Progress of the Age. — Kdwabd Evbbbtt We need the spirit of '75 to guide us safely amid the dizzy activities of the times. While our own numbers are increasing in an unexampled ratio, Europe is pouring in upon us her hun- dreds of thousands annually, and new regions are added to our domain, which we are obliged to count by degrees of latitude and longitude. In the mean time, the most wonderful discoveries of art, and the most mysterious powers of nature, combine to give an almost fearful increase to the intensity of our existence. Machines of unexampled complication and ingenuity have been applied to the whole range of human industry : we rush across the land and the sea by steam ; we correspond by magnetism ; we paint by the solar ray ; we count the beats of the electric clock at the distance of a thousand miles ; we annihilate time and distance ; and, amidst all the new agencies of communica- tion and action, the omnipotent Press — the great engine of modern progress, not superseded or impaired, but gathering new power from all the arts — is daily clothing itself with louder thunders. While we contemplate with admiration — almost with awe — the mighty influences which surround us, and which demand our cooperation and our guidance, let our hearts over- flow with gratitude to the patriots who have handed down to ua this great inheritance. Let us strive to furnish ourselves, from the storehouse of their example, with the principles and virtues which will strengthen us for the performance of an honored part on this illustrious stage. Let pure patriotism add its bond to the bars of iron which are binding the continent together ; and, as intelligence shoots with the electric spark from ocean to ocean, let public spirit and love of country catch from heart to heart. The Foreign Policy of Washington. Charles Jambs Fox, How infinitely superior must appear the spirit and principles of General Washington, in his late address to Congress, com pared with the policy of modern European courts ! Illustrious man! — deriving honor less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind. Grateful to France for the assistance received from her in that great contest which secured the independence of America, '"• yel did not choose to give up 262 ROSS'S SPEAKER the system of neutrality in her favor. Having once laid down the line of conduct most proper to be pursued, not all the insults and provocations of the French minister, Genet,* could at all put him out of his way, or bend him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create astonishment, that, placed in circumstances so critical, and filling a station so conspicuous, the character of Washington should never once have been called in question — that he should in no one instance have been accused either of improper insolence, or of mean submission, in his transactions with foreign nations. It has been reserved for him to run the nice of glory without experiencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career. The breath of censure has not dared to impeach the purity of his conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise its malignant glance to the elevation of his virtues. Such has been the transcendent merit and the unparalleled fate of this illustrious man. How did he act when insulted by Genet ? Did he consider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct or madness of an individual by involving a whole continent in the horrors of war ? No ; he contented himself with procuring satisfaction for the insult, by causing Genet to be recalled ; and thus, at once, consulted his own dignity and the interests of his country. Happy Americans ! while the whirlwind flies over one quarter of the globe, and spreads every where desolation, you remain protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues and the wisdom of your government. Separated from Europe by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of those prejudices and passions which convert the boasted seats of civilization into scenes of horror and bloodshed. You profit by the folly and madness of the contending nations, and afford, in your more congenial clime, an asylum to those blessings and virtues which they wan- tonly contemn or wickedly exclude from their bosom. Culti- vating the arts of peace under the influence of freedom, yott advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and distinction ; and if, by any accident, you should be compelled to take part in the present unhappy contest, — if you should find it necessary to avenge insult or repel injury, — the world will bear witness to the equity of your sentiments and the moderation of your views ; and the success of your arms will, no doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your cause. * Pronounced Zkennag. A REPUBLIC THE STRONGEST GOVERNMENT. 263 A Republic the Strongest Government. T. Jefferson, [From his inaugural address, as president of the United States, During the tnroes and convulsions of the ancient world,— during the agonizing spasms of infuriated man, seeking, through blood and slaughter, his long-lost liberty, — it was not wonderful that the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant and peaceful shore ; that this should be more felt tr.d feared by some, and less by others, and should divide opinions as to measures of safety. But every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all republicans : we are all federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union, or to change its republican form, let them stand, undisturbed, as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it. I know, indeed, that some honest men fear a republican government can not be strong — that this government is not strong enough. But would the honest patriot, in the full tide of successful experiment, abandon a government which has so far kept us free and firm, on the theoretic and visionary fear that this government, the world's best hope, may, by possibility, want energy to preserve itself ? I trust not. I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest government on earth. I believe it the only one where every man, at the call of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and would meet invasions of the public order as his own personal concern. Sometimes it is said that man can not be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the government of others ? Or have we found angels, in the form of kings, to govern him ? Lat history answer this question. Let us, then, with courage and confidence, pursue our own federal and republican principles — our attachment to union and representative government. Kindly separated by nature and a wide ocean from the exterminating havoc of one quarter of the globe ; too high-minded to endure the degradations of the others ; possessing a chosen country, with room enough for our descendants to the thousandth and thousandth generation ; entertaining a due sense of our equal right to the use of our c*n faculties, to the acquisitions of our own industry, to hono* 261 HOSS'S SPEAKER. and confidence from our fellow-citizens, resulting not from birth but from our actions, and their sense of them ; enlightened by a benign religion, professed, indeed, and practised in various forms, yet all of them inculcating honesty, truth, temperance, gratitude, and the love of man ; acknowledging and adoring an overruling Providence, which, by all its dispensations, proves that it delights in the happiness of man here, and his greater happiness hereafter, — with all these blessings, what more is necessary to make us a happy and prosperous people ? Still one thing more, fellow-citizens : a wise and frugal govern- ment, which shall restrain men from injuring one another, shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned — this is the sum of good govern- ment ; and this is necessary to close the circle of our felicities Scene from Pizarro. — Kotzbbub. Pizaero and Gomes. Pizarro. How now, Gomez — what bringest thou ? Gomez. On yonder hill, among the palm trees, we have sur prised an old Peruvian. Escape by flight he could not, and we seized him unresisting. Piz. Drag him before us. (Gomez leads in Orozemho.) — What art thou, stranger ? Oro. First tell me who is the captain of this band of rob- bers ? Piz. Audacious ! This insolence has sealed thy doom. Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian. But first confess what thou Vnowest. Oro. I know that which thou hast just assured me of — *hat shall die. Piz. Less audacity might have preserved thy life. Oro. My life is as a withered tree, not worth preserving. Piz. Hear me, old man. Even now we march against the Peruvian army. We know there is a secret path that leads to your stronghold among the rocks. Guide us to that, and name thy reward. If wealth be thy wish Oro. Ha, ha, ha ! Piz. Dost thou despise my offer ? Oro. Yes, thee and thy offer. Wealth ! — I have the wealth of two gallant sons. I have stored in heaven the riches which SCENE FROM PLZARRO. 2«5 repay good actions here ; and still my chiefest treasure do I wear about tne. Piz. What is that ? Inform me. Oro. I will, for thou canst never tear it from me — an ul- sullied conscience. Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares speak ax thou dost. Oro. Would I could believv there is no other Spaniard who dares act as thou dost. Gom. Obdurate pagan, how numerous is your army i Oro. Count the leaves of the forest. Gom. Which is the weakest part of your camp ? Oro. It is fortified on all sides by justice. Gom. Where have you concealed your wives and children i Oro. In the hearts of their husbands and fathers. Piz. Knowest thou Alonzo ? Oro. Know him ! Alonzo ! Our nation's benefactor, the guardian angel of Peru ! Piz. By what has he merited that title ? Oro. By not resembling thee. Piz. Who is this Rolla, joined with Alonzo in command ? Oro. I will answer that, for I love to speak the hero's name. Rolla, the kinsman of the king, is the idol of our army — in war a tiger, in peace a lamb. Cora was once betrothed to him, but finding she preferred Alonzo, he resigned his ciiim for Ccra's happiness. Piz. Romantic savage ! I shall meet this Rolla soon. Oro. Thou hadst better not ; the terrors of his noble eye would strike thee dead. Gom. Silence, or tremble ! Oro. Beardless robber, I never yet have learned to tremble before man — why before thee, thou less than man ? Gom. Another word, audacious heathen, and I strike. Oro. Strike, Christian ; then boast among thy fellows, " 1 tro have murdered a Peruvian." The Same. Second Scene. Sentinel, Rolla, and Alonzo. (Enter Rolla, disguised as a monk.) Rolla. Inform me, friend — is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined ui this dungeon ? ,66 ROSS'S SPEAKER. Sent. He is. Rolla. I must speak with him. Sent. You must not. Rolla. He is my friend. Sent. Not if he were your brother. Rolla. What is to be his fate? Sent. He dies at sunrise. Rolla. Ha ! then I am come in time Sent. Just to witness his death. Rolla. {Advancing towards the door.) Soldier, I must speak with him. Sent. (Pushing him back.) Back ! back ! it is impossible. Rolla. I do entreat you but for one moment. Sent . You entreat in vain : my orders are most strict. Rolla. Look on this wedge of massy gold ; look on these precious gems. In thy land they will be wealth for thee and thine beyond thy hope or wish. Take them — they are thine ; let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. Sent . Away ! Wouldst thou corrupt me? — me, an old Castilian ! I know my duty better. Rolla. Soldier, hast thou a wife ? Sent. I have. Rolla. Hast thou children ? Sent. Four — honest, lovely boys. Rolla. Where didst thou leave them ? Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was born. Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children ? Sent. Do I love them ? God knows my heart — I do. Rolla. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel death in a strange land — what would be thy last request ? Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying blessing to my wife and children. Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door and should there be told thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his dying blessing to his poor children or his wretched wife, — what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive thy comrade from the door ? Sent. How ? Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but to receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my friend. Sent. Go in. (Exit sentinel.) Rolla. (Calls.) Alonzo! Alonzo! SCENE FROM PIZARRO. 267 (Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.) Alon How ! is my hour elapsed ? Well, I am ready. RolLi. Alonzo ! — know me ! Alon. Rolla ! Rolla ! how didst thou pass the guard ? Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon : now lake it thou, and fly ! A hn. And Rolla Rolla Will remain here in thy place. Alon. And die for me ! No ! rather eternal tortures racK me Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks not Rolla's ; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert ; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a father : the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend upon thy life. Go, go, Alonzo ! not to save thyself, but Cora and thy child. Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend. I am prepared to die in peace. Rolla. To die in peace ! devoting her you have sworn to live for, to madness, misery, and death ! Alon. Merciful Heavens ! Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, — now mark me well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word and shrunk from its fulfillment. Know then, if thou art proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side. Alon. O Rolla, you distract me. Wear you the robe, and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard, and force our passage. Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here ? Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm will be instant death. Rolla. For my nation'3 safety, I would not harm him. That soldier — mark me — is a man. All are not men that wear the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, denying to admit, till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a hair of that man's head to save my heartstrings from consuming fire. But haste. A moment's further pause, and all is lost. Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor and from right. Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend ? ^Throwing the friar^s garment over his shoulders.) There conceal thv face. Now, God be whh thee. 368 ROSS'S SPEAKER. American Aristocracy. — J. O 8am Of all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth Among our " fierce democracy." A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save it from sneers, Not even a couple of rotten peers — A thing for laughter, fleers, and jeers, Is American aristocracy. English and Irish, French and Spanish Germans, Italians, Dutch, and Danish, Crossing their veins until they vanish In one conglomeration ! So subtle a tinge of blood, indeed, No Heraldry Harvey will ever succeed In finding the circulation. Depend upon it, my snobbish friend, Your family thread you can't ascend, Without good reason to apprehend You may find it waxed at the other end By some plebeian vocation ; Or, worse than that, your boasted line May end in a loop of stronger twine, That plagued some worthy relation. Pedantry. — anon. Characters. — Digit, a mathematician; Trill, a musician ; Sesquipb^a- lia, a linguist and philosopher; Drone, a servant of Mr. MorreK k in •whose house the scene is laid. (Digit, alone.) Digit. If theologians are in want of a proof that mankind nrr daily degenerating, let them apply to me, Archimedes Digit. I can furnish them with one as clear as any demonstration in Euclid's third or fifth book; and it is this — the sublime and exalted science of mathematics is falling into general disuse. O that the patriotic inhabitants of this extensive country should suffer so degrading a circumstance to exis*! Why, yesterday TEDANTRY. 269 \ asked a lad of fifteen which he preferred, algebra or geome- try ; and ha told me — O, horrible! — he told me he had never studied them. I was thunderstruck, I was astonished, I was petrified. Never studied geometry ! never studied algebra ! and fifteen years old! The dark ages are returning. Heathenish obscurity will soon overwhelm the world, unless I do something immediately to enlighten it ; and for this purpose I have now applied to Mr. Morrell ^vho lives here, and is celebrated for his patronage of learning afld learned men. (A knock at the door.) Who waits there ? {Enter Drone.) Is Mr. Morrell at home ? Drone. (Speaking very slow.) Can't say ; s'pose he is ; indeed, I am sure he is, or was just now. Digit. Why, I could solve an equation while you are answer- ing a question of five words — I mean if the unknown terms were all on one side of the equation. Can I see him ? Drone. There is nobody in this house by the name of Qua- tion. Digit. (Aside.) Now, here's a fellow that can not distinguish between an algebraic term and the denomination of his master. — I wish to see Mr. Morrell upon an affair of infinite importance. Drone. O, very likely, sir. I will inform him that Mr. Qua- tion wishes to see him (mimicking) upon an affair of infinite importance. Digit. No, no. Digit — Digit. My name is Digit. Drone. 0, Mr. Digy-Digy ! Very likely. (Exit Drone.) Digit. (Alone.) That fellow is certainly a negative quantity. He is minus common sense. If this Mr. Morrell is the man 1 take him to be, he can not but patronize my talents. Should he not, I don't know how I shall obtain a new coat. I have worn this ever since I began to write my theory of sines and cotan- gents ; and my elbows have so often formed right angles with the plane surface of my table, that a new coat or a parallel patch is very necessary. But here comes Mr. Morrell. (Enter Sesquipedalia.) Sir, (bowing low,) I am your most mathematical servant. I am eorry, sir, to give you this iroubh' ; but an affair of consequence — (pulling the rai^s oner his elbows) — an affair of consequence, as your servant informed you Sesquipedalia. Serrus non est mi hi. dmnine; that is, I have no servant sir. I presume you have (tried in your caleuYtion und Digit. No, sir The calculations I am about to present yow 270 ROSS'S SPEAKER. are founded on the most co rect theorems of Euclid. You may examine them, if you pleasu. They are contained in this small manuscript. {Producing a folio.) Sesq. Sir, you have bestowed a degree of interruption upon my observations. I was about — or, according to the Latins, fu- turns sum — to give you a little information concerning the lumi- nary who appears to lave deceived your vision. My name, sir, is Tullius Maro Titus Crispus Sesquipedalia ; by profession a linguist and philosopher. The most abstruse points in physics or metaphysics are to me transparent as ether. I have come to this house for the purpose of obtaining the patronage of a gentle- man who befriends all the literati. Now, sir, perhaps I have induced conviction in mente tua — that is, in your mind — that your calculation was erroneous. Digit. Yes, sir, as to your person I was mistaken ; but my calculations, I maintain, are correct, to the tenth part of a circu- lating decimal. Sesq. But what is the subject of your manuscript? Have you discussed the infinite divisibility of matter ? Digit. No, sir ; I can not reckon infinity ; and I have nothing to do with subjects that can not be reckoned. Sesq. Why, I can not reckon about it. I reckon it is divisi- ble ad infinitum. But perhaps your work is upon the materi- ality of light; and if so, which side of the question do you espouse ? Digit. 0, sir, I think it quite immaterial. Sesq. What ! light immaterial ! Do you say light is imma- terial ? Digit. No ; I say it is quite immaterial which side of the question I espouse. I have nothing to do with it. And besides, I am a bachelor, and do not mean to espouse any thing at present. Sesq. Do you write upon the attraction of cohesion ? You know matter has the properties of attraction and repulsion. Digit. I care nothing about matter, so I can find enough for mathematical demonstration. Sesq. I can not conceive what you have written upon, then. O, it must be the centripetal and centrifugal motions. Digit. (Peevishly.) No, no ! I wish Mr. Morrell would come. Sir, I have no motions but such as I can make with my pencil upon my slate, thus. (Figuring upon his hand.) Six, minus tour, plus two, equa eight, minus six, plus two. There, those are my motions. Sesq. 0, I percei /e you grovel in the depths of arithmetic. ' suppose you nevei oared into the regions of philosophy. You tMSDANTKY. 271 never thought of the vacuum wnich has so long filled the heads of philosophers. Digit. Vacuum! {Putting his hand to his forehead.) Let me think. Sesq. Ha ! what ! have you got it sub manu — that is, under your hand ? Ha, ha, ha ! Digit. Eh ! under my hand ? What do you mean, sir ? — that my head is a vacuum ? Would you insult me, sir ? insult Archimedes Digit ? Why, sir, I'll cipher you into infinite divisi- bility. I'll set you on an inverted cone, and give you a centrip- etal and centrifugal motion out of the window, sir ! I'll scatter your solid contents ! Sesq. Da veniam, — that is, pardon me, — it was merely a lapsus lingua, — that is Digit. Well, sir, I am not fond of lapsus Unguals, at all, sir. However, if you did not mean to offend, I accept your apology. I wish Mr. Morrell would come. Sesq. But, sir, is your work upon mathematics ? Digit. Yes, sir. In this manuscript I have endeavored to elucidate the squaring of the circle. Sesq. But, sir, a square circle is a contradiction in terms You can not make one. Digit. I perceive you are a novice in this sublime science The object is to find a square which shall be equal to a given circle ; which I have done by a rule drawn from the radii of the circle and the diagonal of the square. And by my rule the area of the square will equal the area of the circle. Sesq. Your terms are to me incomprehensible. Diagonal is derived from the Greek dia and goneo, — that is, " through the corner." But I don't see what it has to do with a circle ; for if I understand aright, a circle, like a sphere, has no corners. Digit. You appear to be very ignorant of the science of numbers. Your life must be very insipidly spent in poring over philosophy and the dead languages. You never tasted, as I have, the pleasure arising from the investigation of a difficult problem, or the discovery of a new rule in quadratic equations. Sesq. Poh ! poh ! (Turns round in disgust, and hits Digit with his cane.) ] '.git. O, you villain ! ■S'es^. 1 wish, sir Digit. And so do I wish, sir, that that cane was raised to the fourth power, and laid over your head as many times as there are units in a thousand. O ! O ! Sesq. Did my cane come in contact with the sphere of attrac- tion around your sliin r 1 must confess, sir 272 ROSS'S SPEAKER. (Enter Trill) But here is Mr. Morrell. Salve, domine ! Sir, your servant. Trill. Which of you, gentlemen, is Mr. Morrell ? Sesq. O, neither, sir. I took you for that gentleman. Trill. No, sir ; I am a teacher of music. Flute, harp, vio) violin, violoncello, organ, or any thing of the kind ; any instru- ment you can mention. I have just been displaying my powers at a concert, and come recommended to the patronage of Mr. Morrell. Sesq. For the same purpose are that gentleman and myself here. Digit. (Still rubbing his shin.) O! O! Trill. Has the gentleman the gout ? I have heard of ita being cured by music. Shall I sing you a tune ? Hem ! hem ! Faw Digit. No, no ; I want none of your tunes. I'd make that philosopher sing, though, and dance, too, if he hadn't made a vulgar fraction of my leg. Sesq. In veritate, — that is, in truth, — it happened forte, — that is, by chance. Trill. (Talking to himself.) If B be flat, me is in E. Digit. Ay, sir ; this is only an integral part of your conduct ever since you came into this house. You have continued to multiply your insults in the abstract ratio of a geometrical pro- gression, and at last have proceeded to violence. The dignity of Archimedes Digit never experienced such a reduction descend- ing before. Trill. (To himself.) Twice fa, sol, la t and then comes me again. Digit. If Mr. Morrell does not admit me soon, I'll leave the house, while my head is on my shoulders. Trill. Gentlemen, you neither keep time nor chord. But if you can sing, we will carry a trio before we go. Sesq. Can you sing an ode of Horace or Anacreon ? I should like to hear one of them. Digit. I had rather hear you sing a demonstration of the forty-seventh proposition, first book. Trill. I never heard of those performers, sir ; where did they belong ? Sesq. They did belong to Italy and Greece. Trill. Ah, Italy ! There are our best masters, such as Mo- relli and Fuselli. Can you favor me with some of their comoo. sit ions ? Sesq. O, yes ; if you have a taste that way, 1 can furtiwh ON PRECEDENTS IN GOVERNMENT. 273 you with them, and with Virgil, Sallust, Cicero, Caesar, and Quintilian ; and I have an old Greek Lexicon which I cue spare. Trill. Ad libitum, my dear sir ; they will make a handsome addition to my musical library. Digit. But, sir, what pretensions have you to the patronage of Mr. Morrell ? I don't believe you can square the circle. Trill. Pretensions, sir ! I have gained a victory over the great Tantamarrarra, the new opera singer, who pretended to vie with me. 'Twas in the symphony of Handel's Oratorio of Saul, where you know every tiling depends upon the tempo giusto, and where the primo should proceed in smorgando, and the secondo, agitati. But lie was on the third ledger line, I was an octavo below, when, w ith a sudden appoggiatura, I rose to D in alt, and conquered him. (Enter Drone.) Drone. My master says how he will wait on you, gentlemen. Digit. What is your name, sir ? Drone. Drone, at your service. Digit. No, no ; you need not drone at my service. A very applicable name, however. Sesq. Drone ? That is derived from the Greek draon, that is, (lying or moving swiftly. Trill. He seems to move in andante measure, — that is, to •he tune of Old Hundred. Drone. Very likely, gentlemen. Digit. Well, as 1 came first, 1 will enter first. Sesq. Right. You shall be the antecedent, 1 the subsequent, and Mr. Trill the consequent. Trill. Right. I was always a man of consequence. Fa, sol, la, Fa, sol, &c. (Exeunt.) On Precedents in Government. — Lewis Cabb, Mr. President, eloquent allusions have been made here to '.he ominous condition of Europe. And, truly, it is sufficiently threatening to fix the regard of the rest of the civilized world. Elements are al work there whose contact and contest must, ere long, produce explosions whose consequences no man can foresee. The cloud may as yet be no bigger than a man's hand, like that seen by the prophet from Mount Carmel ; but it will overspread the whole hemisphere, and burst, oerhaps in ruins, upon the social lb 274 ROSS'S SPEAKER. and politioa. systems of the old world. Antagonistic principles are doing their work there. The conflict can not he avoided. The desi re of man to govern himself, and the determination of rulers to govern him, are now face to face, and must meet in the strife of action, as they have met in the strife of opinion. It requires a wiser or a rasher man than I am to undertake to foretell when and how this great battle will be fought ; but it is as sure to come as is the sun to rise again, which is now descend- ing to the horizon. What the free governments of the world may find it proper to do, when this great struggle truly begins, I leave to those upon whom will devolve the duty and the respon- sibility of decision. It has been well said that the existing generation stands upon the shoulders of its predecessors. Its visual horizon is enlarged from this elevation. We have the experience of those who have gone before us, and our own, too. We are able to judge for ourselves, without blindly following in their footsteps. There is nothing stationary in the world. Moral and intellectual as well as physical sciences are in a state of progress ; or, rather, we are marching onwards in the investigation of their true principles. It is presumptuous, at any time, to say that " Now is the best possible condition of human nature ; let us sit still and be satis- fied ; there is nothing more to learn." I believe in no such doctrine. I believe we are always learning. We have a right to examine for ourselves. In fact, it is our duty to do so. Still, sir, I would not rashly reject the experience of the world, any more than I would blindly follow it. I have no such idea. 1 have no wish to prostrate all the barriers raised by wisdom, and to let in upon us an inundation of many such opinions as have been promulgated in the present age. But far be it from me tc adopt, as a principle of conduct, that nothing is to be done except what has been done before, and precisely as it was then done So much for precedents ! Tight Times. — Albany Register. A great exploder of bubbles is Tight Times. He looks into the affairs of gold companies, and they fly to pieces ; into kiting banks, and they stop payment ; into rickety insurance companies, and they vanish away. He walks around corner lots, draws a line across lithographic cities, and thev disappear. He leaves his footprint among mines, and the rich metal becomes dross INTERVENTION IN THE WARS OF EUROPE. 275 lie breathes upon the cunningest schemes of speculation, and they burst like a torpedo. A curious fellow is Tight Times, full of idiosyncrasies and crotchets. A cosmopolite, a wanderer, too. Where he con.es from nobody knows, and where he goes nobody knows. He flashes along the telegraph wires, he takes a free passage in the cars, he seats himself in the stages, or goes along the turn- pikes on foot. He is a gentleman on Wall Street to-day, and a back settler on the borders of civilization to-morrow. We hear of him in London, in Paris, in St. Petersburg, at Vienna, Berlin, at Constantinople, at Calcutta, in China, all over the commercial world, in every great city, in every rural district, every where. There is one way to avoid being bored by this troublesome fellow, Tight Times. It is the only way for a country, a city, a town, as well as individual men, to keep shut of his presence always. Let the country that would banish him beware of extravagance, of speculation, of overtrading, of embarking in visionary schemes of aggrandizement. Let it keep out of wars, avoid internal commotions, and go right along, taking care of its own interests and husbanding its resources. Let the city that would exclude him be economical in its expenditures, indulging in no schemes of speculation, making no useless improvements, building no railroads that it can not pay for, withholding its credit from mushroom corporations, keeping down its taxes, and going right along, taking care of its own interests and husbanding its own resources. Let the individual man who would exclude him from his domestic circle be industrious, frugal, keeping out of the whirlpool of politics, indulging no taste for office, holding up his dish when pudding falls from the clouds, laying by something when the sun shines to make up for the dark days, — for " Some days must be dark and dreary," — working on always with a heart full of confidence in the good providence of God, and cheerful in the hope of " the good time coming." Intervention in the Wars of Europe. Jbeemiah Clemens, Washington has said, " There can be no greater error than to expect or calculate upon any real favors from nation to nation. It is an illusion which experience must cure, and which a iust 276 ROSS'S SPEAKER, pride ought to discard." There is a deep wisdom in this ; ano he who disregards, or treats it lightly, wants the highest attribute of a statesman. We can expect nothing as a favor from otheT nations, and none have a right to expect favors from us. Our interference, if we interfere at all, must be dictated by interest ; and therefore I ask, in what possible manner can we be bene- fited ? Russia has done us no injury ; we have, therefore, no wrongs to avenge. Russia has no territory of which we wish to deprive her, and from her there is no danger against which it is necessary to guard. Enlightened self-interest does not ofTer a single argument in favor of embroiling ourselves in a quarrel with her. So obvious, so indisputable, is this truth, that the advocates of " intervention " have based their speeches almost solely on the ground that we have a divine mission to perform, and that is, to strike the manacles from the hands of all mankind. It may be, Mr. President, that we have such a mission ; but, if so, " the time of its fulfillment is not yet." And, for one, I prefer waiting for some clearer manifestation of the divine will. By attempting to fulfill it now, we employ the surest means of disap- pointing that " manifest destiny " of which we have heard so much. We have before us the certainty of inflicting deep injury upon ourselves, without the slightest prospect of benefiting others. Misfortunes may come upon us all ; dishonor attaches only to the unworthy. A nation may be conquered, trodden down, — her living sons in chains, her dead the prey of vultures, — and still leave a bright example, a glorious history, to after times. But when folly and wickedness have ruled the hour, — when disaster is the legitimate child of error and weakness, — the page that records it is but a record of infamy, and pity for misfortune becomes a crime against justice. Sir, I do not love that word « destiny," — " manifest " or not " manifest." Men and nations make their own destinies. " Our acts our angels are, or good, or ill — Our fatal shadows, that walk by us still." The future of this republic is in our hands ; and it is for us to determine whether we will launch the ship of state upon a wild and stormy sea, above whose blackened waters no sunshine beams, no star shines out, and where not a ray is seen but what is caught from the lurid lightning in its fiery path. This, sena- tors, is the mighty question we have to solve ; and, let me add, if the freedom of one continent, and the hopes of four, shall sink beneath that inky flood, ours will be the guilt — ours the deep damnation. THE CONTEST UNEQUAL. 27T Shall 1 be told these -are idle fears ? That, in a war with Russia, no matter for what cause waged, we must be the victor? ? That, in short, all Europe combined could not blot this Union from the map of nations ? Ah, sir, that is not all I fear. 1 fear success even more than defeat. The senator from Michigan was right when he said that our fears were to be found at home. I do fear ourselves. Commit our people once to unnecessary foreign wars, — let victory encourage the military spirit, already too prevalent among them, — and Roman history will have no chapter bloody enough to be transmitted to posterity side by side with ours. In a brief period we shall have reenacted, on a grander scale, the same scenes v/hich marked her decline. The veteran soldier, who has followed a victorious leader from clime to clime, will forget his love of country in his love for his com- mander ; and the bayonets you send abroad to conquer a king- dom will be brought back to destroy the rights of the citizen, and prop the throne of an emperor. The Contest unequal. — Stdnbt Smith. Mb. Bailiff, I have spoken so often on this subject, that I am sure both you and the gentlemen here present will be obliged to me for saying but little, and that favor I am as willing to confer as you can be to receive it. I feel most deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting the two houses of Parliament in collision with each other, it will impede the public business, and diminish the public prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to see so many digni- taries of the church arrayed against the wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it, mori than all, because I believe it will sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the aristocracy and the great mass of the people. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all possible reasons — because I have not the slightest idea that it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of the winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual lax bills will pass ; and greater certainty than this no man can have, for Franklin tells us, there are but two things certain in this world — death and taxes. Ab for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere long a reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever entered into human imagination. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the prog nS ROSS'S SPEAKER. ress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that town ; the tide rose to an incredible height ; the waves rushed in upon the houses, and every thing was threat- ened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the sea water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington's spirit was up ; but I need not tell you that the contest was une- qual. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She wa3 excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease — be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington. Hazards of our National Prosperity. W. R. Smith, of Alabama, Every body knows, Mr. Speaker, what has been the policy of this government, with respect to the concerns of Europe, up to the present time. And what, I ask, has been the result of that policy? Why, from the small beginning of three millions of inhabitants, we have grown to twenty-three millions ; from a *mall number of states, we are now over thirty. But Kossuth says that we may depart from that policy now ; that it was wise when we were young, but that now we have grown up to be a giant, and may abandon it. Ah, sir, we can all resist adversity. VVe know the uses — and sweet are they — of adversity. It is the crucible of fortune. It is the iron key that unlocks the gol- den gates of prosperity. I say, God bless adversity, when it is properly understood ! But the rock upon which men and upon which nations split is prosperity. This man says that we have grown to be a giant, and that we may depart from the wisdom of our youth. But I say that now is the time to take care ; we are great enough ; let us be satisfied ; prevent the growth of our ambition, to prevent our pride from swelling, and hold on to what we have got. Do you remember the story of the old governor who had been raised from rags ? His king discovered in him merit and integrity, and appointed him a satrap, a ruler over many prov- inces. He came to be great, and it was his custom 10 be escorted throughout the country several times during the year IMPROVEMENT. 279 m order to see and be seen. He was received and acknowl- edged every where as a great man and a great governor. Bu> he carried about with him a mysterious chest, and every now and then he would look into it, and let nobody else see what it contained. There was a great deal of curiosity excited by this chest ; and finally he was prevailed upon, by some of his friends, to let them look into it. Well, he permitted it, and what did they see ? They saw an old, ragged, and torn suit of clothes — the ciothes tnat ne used to wear in his humility and in his poverty ; and he said that he carried them about with him in order that, when his heart began to swell, and his ambition to rise, and his pride to dilate, he could look on the rags that reminded him ■{ what he had been, and thereby be enabled to resist the tempra- tions of prosperity. Let us see whether this can illustrate any thing in our history. Raise the veil, if there is one, which conceals the poverty of this Union, when there were but thirteen states. Raise the veil that conceals the rags of our soldiers of the revolution. Lift the lid of the chest which contains the poverty of our beginning, in order that you may be reminded, like this old satrap, of the days of your poverty, and be enabled to resist the advice of this man, who tells you that you were wise in your youth, but that now you are a giant, and may depart from that wisdom. Remember the use of adversity, and let us take advantage of it, and be benefited by it ; for great is the man, and greater is the nation, that can resist the enchant- ing smiles of prosperity. Improvement. — Dow, Jr. My dear friends, 1 mean to speak of the spirit of improve- ment in general terms, as relating to enlightenment, the advance- ment of knowledge and progress in the arts and sciences. In this respect it is like the rolling avalanche, that leaves detached portions of its bulk by the way, and yet keeps augmenting in its circumvolutionary course. Hardy Enterprise first goes forward as a pioneer in the untracked wilderness, and commences fight with the mighty trees of the forest, cutting them off, some in the nrlmc of life, and others in a green old age, and compelling Uiem to spill their sap upon their country's soil. Then walks Agriculture into them 'ere diggins, with spade, harrow, and toe, and scatters the seed of promise hither and thither, assuring the hopeful settler that his children's children shall sop their hard- 280 ROSS'S SPEAKER. earn* id crumbs in the real gravy of the land. The handmaid Art then comes forward, erects edifices of splendor, and leaves her ornaments of skill on every side — builds studios for the scholars of science, and throws facilities in their way for increas- ing their wisdom, or for making egregious fools of themselves. Such, my hearers, is the spirit of improvement. Like the overflowing of a stream that covers and enriches the valley, it betters the natural and social condition of man, opens wide the avenues to the temple of reason, and expands the young buds of prosperity. Brush away the fog of a couple of centuries, and take a look at this, our native land, as it then appeared. Here, upon the Atlantic shore, the scream of the panther arose on the midnight air with the savage war whoop, and the pale-faced pilgrim trembled for the safety of his defenceless home. He planted his beans in fear and gathered them in trouble ; his chickens and his children were plundered by the foe, and life itself was in danger of leaking out from between the logs of his hut, even if it were fortified with three muskets, a spunky wife, and a jug of whiskey. Yes, my friends, this was then a wild, gloomy, and desolate place. Where the Indian squaw hung her young pappoose upon the bough, and left it to squall at the hush- a-by of the blast, the Anglo-Saxon mother now rocks the cradle of her delicate babe on the carpet of peace, and in the gay par- lor of fashion. The wild has been changed to a blooming gar- den, and its limits are expanding with the mighty genius of Liberty. On Erie's banks the flocks are now straying o'er thy- my pastures, and a few Dutchmen (but no shepherds) are already piping thcie. The yells of fierce savages now faintly echo from beyond tne waters of the Mississippi, and the time is not far off when the last Indian will leave his bones to bleach on the rock- bound coast of the Pacific. Despair. — Dow, Jr. The whitest foam dances upon the darkest billow, and the stars shine the brightest when surrounded by the blackest of thunder clouds ; even as a diamond pin glistens with the greatest effulgence when fastened upon the ebony bosom of an Ethiopian wench. So hope mirrors its most brilliant rays in the dark wave of despair, and happiness is never so complete as when visited occasionally by the ministers of misery. These ups and downs in the pathway of man's existence are all for the best DESPAIR. 281 and yet he allows them to vex and torment his peace till he bursts the boiler of his rage, and scalds his own toes. I have no doubt but the common run of people would like to have a lailroad built from here to the grave, and go through by steam but if they all worked as easy in life's galling collar as I do, they would have things just as they are, — some ups and some downs, some sweet and some bitter, some sunshine and some storm, — because they constitute a variety. I wouldn't give a shin- plaster penny to have the road of existence perfectly level ; for I should soon become tired of a dull sameness of prospect, and make myself miserable in the idea that I must experience no material change, either for better or for worse. Plum pudding is most excellent stuff to wind off a dinner with ; but all plum pudding would be worse than none at all. So you see, my friends, the troubles and trials of life are absolutely necessary to enable us to judge rightly of genuine happiness, whenever it happens to enli- ven the saturnine region of the heart with its presence. If we never were to have our jackets and shirts wet with the cold rain of misfortune, we should never know how good it feels to stand out and dry in the warm rays of comfcrt. You needn't hesitate ever to travel through swamps cf trouble for fear of sinking over head in the mud of despondency ; for despair is never quite despair. No, my friends, it never comes quite up to the mark in the most desperate cases. I know the prospects of man are sometimes most tormentingly conglomerous ; but the clouds eventually clear away, and his sky again becomes clear and quiescent as a basin of potato starch. His sun of ambition may be darkened, his moon of memory turned to blood, and the star of his peace blotted from the firmament of his — I don't know what ; but he is not entirely a gone goose even in this situation. Those semi-celestial angels of light and loveliness, Hope and Fancy, will twine the sweetest of roses round his care-wrinkled brow ; and while one whispers in his ear, " Don't give up the ship," the other dresses up for him a bower of future happiness, and festoons it with the choicest of Elysian flowers. The very darkest cell of despair always has a gimlet hole to let the glory of hope shine in, and dry up the tears of the poor prison 3r of woe. 282 KOSS'8 SPEAKER. Nature.— Dow, Jb. Mr dear friends, it matters not upon whichsoever side we tarn our eyes ; we behold such beauty in its primitive nakedi ess as can not fail to captivate the heart of every true worshiper of the God of nature, and make him feel as though ten thousand caterpillars were crawling up and down the ossified railway of his back. Look at yonder myriads of stars that glitter and sparkle from the dome of heaven's high concave. Say, is there not beauty in these ? Ay, there is beauty magnificent in these little celestial trinkets that stud the ebon brow of night — shin- ing, as they do, like a multitude of beacon lights of glory in the blue-black of eternity, or like so many cats' eyes in a window less garret. Observe the silvery moon, pale-faced Cynthia, wandering Luna, or whatever you choose to call her : see how gracefully she promenades the selfsame path which was laid out for her at the beginning of the world. Look at the resplen- dent sun : see how it has maintained its unsullied brightness through the rust-gathering ages of time. Not a single thread has been lost from its golden fringe, and not even a fly-speck has marred its splendor; but it is to-day the same beautiful, lovely object that it was when it first burst upon paradise, anc rolled back the darkness of chaos into the unknown regions of nowhere. There is beauty at sunset. Who can look at all the glories of an autumnal twilight, and not have the furze upon his hands rise up in rapture ? O, it is, by all odds, the grandest and sub- limest picture in the great academy of nature. At the festooned gates of the west, angels of peace and loveliness have furled their purple wings, and are sweetly sleeping with their heads upon pillows of amber, over-canopied with curtains of damask and crimson, tempting poor mortals like us to climb up the lad der of imagination, and steal kisses by the bushel. When the morning, too, as my friend Hudibras observes, like a boiled lobster, begins to turn from brown to red, there is beauty of the tallest order. Yes, when Aurora hangs out her red under gar- ment from her chamber window, prepares her perfumed toile;, and sweeps out the last speck of darkness from the Oriental parlor, there is such blushing beauty resting upon the eastern hilltops, as can not fail to be appreciated by any one whose heartstrings are not composed of catgut and horse hair. ATTENTION THE SOUL OF CiENlUS. «8S Gold. — Thoma* Hood Gold ! gold ! gold ! gold ! Bright and yellow, hard and cold ; Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled ; Heavy to get and light to hold ; Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold, Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old, To the very verge of the churchyard mold ; Price of many a crime untold. Gold ! gold ! gold ! gold ! Good or bad a thousand fold ! How widely its agencies vary, — To save — to ruin — to curse — to bless — As even its minted coins express ; Now stamped with the imago of Good Queen Bcm, And now of a Bloody Mary. Attention the Soul of Genius. — De. Dbwbt. The favorite idea of a genius among us is of one who never studies, or who studies nobody can tell when, — at midnight, or at odd times and intervals, — and now and then strikes out, " at a heat," as the phrase is, some wonderful production. " The young man," it is often said, " has genius enough, if lie would only study." Now, the truth is, that the genius will study ; it is that in the mind which does study : that is the very natnre of it. I care not to say that it will always use books. All study is not reading, any more than all reading is study. Attention is the very soul of genius ; not the fixed eye not the poring over a book, but the fixed thought. It is, in fact, an action of the mind which is steadily concentrated upon one idea, or one series of ideas ; which collects, in one point, the rays of the soul, till they search, penetrate, and fire the whole train of its thoughts. And while the hre burns within, the outside may be indeed cold, indifferent, negligent, absent in appearance : he mav be an idler or a wanderer, apparently without aim or intent , but still the fire burns within. And what, though " it bursts forth " at length, as has been said, " like volcanic fires, with sponUuieous, original, native force i " It only shows die