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672. MILITARY DESPOTISM AND INSUB- 673. THE FRENCHMAN AND E'S Hosr. ORDINATION. Mr. Chairman,--I trust, that A Frenchman once, who was a merry wight, I shall be indulged, with some few reflections, Passing to town from Dover in the night, upon the danger--of permitting the conduct, Near the roadside an ale-house chanced to spy: ori which it has been my painful duty to ani. And being rather tired as well as dry, madvert, to pass, without a solemn expression of the disapprobation of this house. Recall to Resolved to enter; but first he took a peep, your recollection, sir, the free nations, which In hopes a supper he might gel, aná cheap. have gone before us. Where are they now ? He enters: “Hallo! Garcon, if you please,
"Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were; Bring me a little bit of bread and cheese. A sckcoiboy's tale,-the wonder of an hour."
And hallo! Garcon, a pot of porter ioo!” he said, And how have they lost their liberties? If “Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed.” [left we could transport ourselves back, sir, to the His supper done, some scraps of cheese were ages when Greece, and Rome, flourished, in which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no that their greatest prosperity, and, mingling in the Into his pocket put; then slowly crept throng, should ask a Grecian, if he did not To wished-for bed; but not a wink he sleptfear, that some daring military chieftain, covered with glory, some Philip, or Alexander, For, on the floor, some sacks of flour were laid, would one day overthrow the liberties of his To which the rats a nightly visit paid. country,—the confident, and indignant Gre- Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, cian would exclaim, No!'no! we have nothing Put on his cap and bade the world good-night; to fear from our heroes; our liberties will be But first his breeches, which contained the fare, eternal. If a Roman citizen had been asked, Under his pillow he had placed with care. if he did not fear, that the conqueror of Gaul might establish
Sans ceremonie, soon the rats all ran, throne upon the ruins of public liberty, he would have instantly repel. And on the flour-sacks greedily began; (round, led the unjust insinuation. Yet, Greece-has At which they gorged themselves; then smelling fallen; Cesar--has passed the rubicon; and Under the pillow soon the cheese they found; the patriotic arm even of Brutus-could not And while at ilus they regaling sat, preserve the liberties of his devoted country.
Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap; Sir, we are fighting a great moral battle for the benefit, not only of our country, but of all Who, half awake, cries out, “Hallo! hailo! mankind. The eyes of the whole world are
Vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so? in fixed attention upon us. One, and the Ah! 'tis one big huge rat! largest portion of it, is gazing with jealousy, Vat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at ?" and with envy; the other portion, with hope, In vain our little hero sought repose; with confidence, and with affection. Every Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose; where—the black cloud of legitimacy is sus. And such the pranks they kept up all the right, pended over the world, save only one bright That he, on end antipedes upright, spot, which breaks out from the political hemisphere of the west, to enlighten, and animate, Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light and gladden the human heart. 'Obscure that, “Hallo! Maison! Garcon, I say! by the downfall of liberty here, and all man- Bring me the bill for vat I have to pay!” kind--are enshrouded—in a pall of universal The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, larkness. Beware, then, sir, how you give a Ten shillings was the charge, he scarce believes atal sanction, in this infant period of our re- With eager haste, he runs it o'er, [his eyes wublic, to military insubordination. Rememoer, that Greece_had her Alexander, Rome And every time he viewed it thought it more. her Cesar, England-her Cromwell, France "Vy zounds, and zounds!” he cries, “I sall no pay; her Bonaparte, and, that if we would escape Vat charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange! the rock, on which they split, we must avoid A leetal sup of porter, dis vile bed, their errors.
Vare all de rats do run about my head ?” I hope, sir, that gentlemen will deliberately “Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out; survey the awful isthmus, on which we “I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em stand. They may bear down all opposition. They may even vote general Jackson the public thanks. They may carry him triumphant- I'll pay him well that can.” “Vat's dat you say ly through this house. But, if they do, sir, in "I'll pay him well that can.” “Attend to me, I my humble judgment, it will be a triumph of Vil you dis charge forego, vat I am at, [pray. the principle of insubordination-a triumph If from your house I drive away de rat?" of the military-over the civil authority-a “With all my heart,” the jolly host replies, triumph over the powers of this house--a triumph over the constitution of the land; and
“Ecoutez donc, ami ;” the Frenchman cries. I pray, sir, most devoutly, that it may not
“First, den-Regardez, if you please, prove, in its ultimate effects and conscquen- Bring to dis spot a lesile bread and cheese: ces, a triumph over the liberties of the people, Eh bien! a pot of portar too; THE EARTH HAS BEEN ALL ALIVE.
And den invite de rats to sup vid you: What is the world itself? thy world?-a grave!
And after--no matter dey be villingWhere is the dust that has not been alive?
For vatrey eat, you charge dem just ten sheienge The spade, the plow, disturb our ancestors,
And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, Fom human mold we reap our daily bread;
Dey'll quit your house, and never come no more The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes, How beautiful is the swiftly passing lightAnd is the ceiling of her sleeping sons:
On the calm cloud of ere! 'Tis sweetto mark O'er devastation we blind revels keep;
Those color'd folds. Ana: round the setting sun, Whole buried towns support the darcer's heel. Like & imson drapery-p'er a monarch's thrana
674. Loss Of NATIONAL CHARACTER.
675. GOOD-NIGHT. The loss of a firm, national character, or the Good-night--to all the world ! there's Nim degradation of a nation's honor, is the inevi- Beneath the “over-going” sun, table prelude to her destruction. Behold the
To whom, I feel, or hate, or spite, once proud fabric of the Roman empire; an empire, carrying its arts, and arms, into every
And so to all-a fair good-night part of the eastern continent; the monarchs Would I could say, good-night to pain, of mighty kingdoms, dragged at the wheels Good-night to evil and her train, of her triumphal chariots; her eagle, waving To cheerless poverty, and shame, over the ruins of desolated countries. Where
That I am yet unknown to fame! is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory? Extinguished-forever. Her mold
Would I could say, good-night to dreams, ering temples, the mournful vestiges of her That haunt me with delusive gleams, former grandeur, afford a shelter to her mut- That through the sable future's vail, tering monks. Where are her statesmen, her
Like meteors, glimmer, but to fail. sages, her philosophers, her orators, her gene
Would I could say, a long good-night, rals? Go to their solitary tombs, and inquire. She lost her national character, and her de
To halting, between wrong, and right, struction followed. The ramparts of her na- And, like a giant, with new force,
tional pride were broken down, and Vandal- Awake, prepared to run my course! ' ism desolated her classic fields.
But time o'er good and ill sweeps on, Citizens will lose their respect and confi
And when few years have come,
and dence, in our government, if it does not ex
gone, tend over them, the shield of an honorable,
The past--will be to me as naught, national character. Corruption will creep in,
Whether remembered, or forgot. and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious
Yet, let me hope, one faithful friend, leaders will seize upon the favorable moment.
O'er my last couch, in tears shall bend; The mad enthusiasm for revolution — will
And, though no day for me was bright, call into action the irritated spirit of our nation, and civil war must follow. The swords
Shall bid me then, a long good-night. of our countrymen may yet glitter on our
RESPECT TO OLD AGE. It happened at mountains, their blood may yet crimson our Athens, during a public representation of plains. Such, the warning voice of all antiquity, the wealth, that an old gentleman came too late,
some play, exhibited in honor of the common. example of all republics proclaim-may be for a place suitable to his age, and quality, our fate. But let us no longer indulge these Many of the young gentlemen, who observed gloomy anticipations. The commencement the difficulty and confusion he was in, made of our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter signs to him, that they would accommodate period to the world. That bold, enterprising him, if he came where they sat. The good spirit, which conducted our heroes to peace, man bustled through the crowd accordingly; and safety, and gave us a lofty rank, amid but when he came to the seat, to which he the empires of the world, still animates the bosoms of their descendants. Look back to pose him, as he stood out of countenance, to
was invited, the jest was, to sit close, and exthe moment, when they unbarred the dun- the whole audience. The frolic went round geons of the slave, and dashed his fetters all the Athenian benches. But, on those octo the earth, when the sword of a Washing-casions, there were also particular places reton leaped from its scabbard, to revenge the served for foreigners. When the good man slaughter of our countrymen. Place their skulked towards the boxes, appointed for the example before you. Let the sparks of Lacedemonians, that honest people, more virtheir veteran wisdom flash
your tuous than polite, rose up all to a man, and minds, and the sacred altars of your liber- with the greatest respect, received him among ty, crowned with immortal honors, rise be- them. The Athenians, being suddenly touch fore you. Relying on the virtue, the cour- ed with a sense of the Spartan virtue, and age, the patriotism, and the strength of our their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of apcountry, we may expect our national charac- plause; and the old man cried out, “ the Atheter will become more energetic, our citizens nians understand what is good, but the Lace. more enlightened, and may hail the age as demonians practice it. not far distant, when will be heard, as the proudest exclamation of man: I am an American.-Maxcy.
A hungry, lean-fac'd villain, The bell strikes one: We take no note of time,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune teller : is wise in man. As if an angel spoke,
A needy, hollow-eye'd, sharp looking wretche I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
A living dead man: this pernicious slave, It is the knell of my departed hours : [flood ?
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; Where are they? with the years beyond the And gazing in my eyes, feeling my putse, It is the signal that demands despatch ;
And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me, How much is to be done! my hopes and fears
Cries out, I was possess’d.-Shikspeare.
But moody and dull melancholy,
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair;) Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
And at her heels, a huge infectious troop Reason gains all men, by compelling none Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ?
676. THE GROVES: GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES. Seems, as it issues from the shapeltos moul l, The groves-were God's first temples. Ere man An emanation of the indwelling Life, To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, [learned A visible token-of the upholding Love, And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed That are, the soul of this wide universe The lofty vault, to gather, and roll back,
My heart-is awed within me, when I think The sound of anthems--in the darkling wood, Of the great miracle that still goes on, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, In silence, round ine--the perpetual work And offered, to the Mightiest, solemn thanks, Of thy creation, finished, yet renewedAnd supplication. For his simple heart
Forever. Written on thy works, I read Might not resist the sacred influences,
The lesson of thy own eternity. That, from the stilly twilight of the place,
Lo! all grow old, and die: but see, aga ng And from the gray old trunks, that, high in heav'n, How, on the faltering footsteps of decay, Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Youth presses-ever gay, and beautiful youth Of the invisible breath, that swayed, at once,
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed Wave not less proudly, that their ancestors His spirit with the thought of boundless Power, Moulder, beneath them. Oh! there is not lost And inaccessible Majesty. Ah! why
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet, Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect After the flight of untold centuries, God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore,
The freshness of her far beginning lies, Only, among the crowd, and under roofs,
And yet shall lie. Life--mocks the idle hate That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Of his arch enemy-Death; yea, seats himself Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Upon the sepulchre, and blooms, and smiles, Offer one hymn; thrice happy, if it find
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe, Acceptance in his ear.
Makes his own nourishment. For he came fo: Father, thy hand
Frorn thine own bosom, and shall have no end. Hath reared these venerable columns; thou
There have heen holy men, who hid themselves Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose Their lives to thought, and prayer, till they outlived All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, The generation, born with them, nor seemed Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, Less aged, than the hoary trees, and rocks, And shot towards heav'n. The century-living crow, Around them; and there have been holy men, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old, and died, Who deemed it were not well--to pass life thus Among their branches; till, at last, they stood, But let me, often, to these solitudes As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark- Retire, and, in thy presence, reassure Fit shrine--for humble worshiper to hoid
My feeble virtue. Here, its enemies, Communion with his Maker. Here are seen, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps, shrink, No traces of man's pomp, or pride; no silks And tremble, and are still. Rustle, no jewels shine, nor envious eyes
O God! when thou Encounter; no fantastic carvings—show Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The boast of our vain race-to change the form The heavens, with falling thunderbolts, or fill, Of thy fair works. But thou art here; thou fill'st With all the waters of the firmament, The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds,
The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods, That run along the summits of these trees, And drowns the villages; when, at thy call, In music; thou art in the cooler breath,
Uprises the great deep. and throws himself 'That, from the inmost darkness of the place, Upon the continent, and overwhelms Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground, Its cities;—who forgets not, at the sight The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
Here, is continual worship; nature, here, His pride, and lays his strifes, and follies by! In the tranquillity that thou dost love,
Oh! from the sterner aspects of thy face Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around, Spare me, and mine ; nor let us need the wrath From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Of the mad, unchained elements, to teach Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate, Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots In these caim shades, thy milder majesty, Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
And to the beautiful order of thy works, Of all the good it does. Thou hast not lest Learn to conform the order of our lives.-Bryanı. Thyself without a witness, in these shades, Naturally, men are prone to spin them. Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace, selves a web of opinions out of their owvi Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak
brain, and to have a religion that may be calBy whose immovable stem I stand, and seem
led their own. Men are far readier to make Almost annihilated—not a prince,
themselves a faith, than to receive that which
God hath formed to their hands, and they are In all the proud old world, beyond the deep, far readier to receive a doctrine that tends to F’er wore his crown-as loftily as he
their carnal commodity, or honor, or delights, Wears the green coronal of leaves, with which than one that tends to self-denial. Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirLa beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
rels in a
chain, ambitious men still climb and Of the broad sun. That delicate forest-flower, climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety With scented breath, and look, so like a smile, but never reach the top.
677. ParsiCAL EDUCATION. That is, un- Tossed his beamed frontlet-to the sky; doubtedly, the wisest, and best regimen, A moment-gazed--adown the dale, which takes the infant from the cradle, and
A moment--snuffed the tainted gale, conducts him along, through childhood, and
A moment, listened to the cry, youth, up to high maturity, in such a manner,
That thickened—as the chase drew nigh; as to give strength to his arm, swiftness to his feet, solidity and amplitude to his muscles,
Then, as the headmost foes anpeared, symmetry to his frame, and expansion to his
With one brave bound—the cripse he clearedi vital energies. It is obvious, that this branch And, stretching forward, free, and far, of education comprehends, not only food and Sought the wild heaths-of Uam-Var.--Scotla clothing, but air, exercise, lodging, early ri
678. MODULATION. sing, and whatever else is requisite, to the full development of the physical constitution. 'Tis not enough-the voice be sound, and cleer, The díet must be simple, the apparel must 'Tis modulation, that must charm the ear. not be too warm, nor the bed too soft.
Let parents beware of too much restriction When desperate heroes grieve, with tedious moan, in the management of their darling boy. Let And whine their sorrows, in a see-saw tone, him, in choosing his play, follow the sugges- The same soft sounds-of unimpassioned woes, tions of nature. Let them not be discompos- can only make the yawning hearers--doze. ed at the sight of his sard-hills in the road, The voice-all inodes of passion can express, his snow-forts in February, and his mud-dams That marks the proper word, with proper stress : in April; nor when they chance to look out But none emphatic--can that speaker call, in the midst of an August shower, and see who lays an equal emphasis-on all. him wading and sailing, and sporting along with the water-fowl. If they would make Some, o'er the tong:le—the labored measures role him hardy and fearless, they must let him go Slow, and deliberate--as the parting toll; abroad as often as he pleases, in his early Point every stop, mark every pause so strong, boyhood, and amuse himself by the hour to- Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. gether, in smoothing and twirling the hoary locks of winter. Instead of keeping him All affectation—but creates disgust; shut up all day with a stove, and graduating And e’en in speaking, we may seem too just. his sleeping-room by Fahrenheit, they must In vain, for them, the pleasing measure flows, let him face the keen edge of a north-wind, Whose recitation-runs it all 10 prose; when the mercury is below cipher; and, in- Repeating-what the poet sets not down, stead of minding a little shivering, and com- The verse disjointing-from its favorite nou, plaining, when he returns, cheer up
his spirits, and send him out again. In this way,
While pause, and break, and repetition joir. they will teach him, that he was not born to To make a discord-in each tuneful line. live in the nursery, nor to brood over the fire; Some placid natures-fill the allotted scene but to range abroad, as free as the snow, and With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene; the air, and to gain warmth from exercise. While others-thunder every couplet o'er, I love, and admire the youth, who turns
And almost crack your ears—with rant, an 1 rok not back from the howling wintry blast, nor withers under the blaze of summer; who More nature, oft, and finer strokes are shown, never magnifies “mole-hills into mountains;" In the low whisper, than tempesļuous tone; but whose daring eye, exulting, scales the ea- And Hamlet's hollow voice, and fixed amaze, gle's airy crag, and who is ready to under- More powerful terror-to the mind conveys, take anything, that is prudent, and lawful, Than be, who, swollen with impetuous rage, within the range of possibility. Who would Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage. think of planting the mountain-oak-in a green-house? or of rearing the cedar of Leb- He, who, in earnest, studies o'er his part, anon-in a lady's flower-pot? Who does Will find true nature--cling about his heart. not know that, in order to attain their mighty The modes of grief--are not included allstrength, and majestic forms, they must free- In the white handkerchief, and mournful drawl; ly enjoy the rain, and the sunshine, and must A single look more marks the internal woe, feel the rocking of the tempest?
Than all the windings of the lengthened-Oh!
Up to the face-the quick sensation flies, The stag, at eve, had drunk his fill,
And darts its meaning—from the speaking eyes: Where danced the moon, on Monan's rill,
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, And deep his midnight lair had made,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.
NATURE'S WANTS ARE FEW.
Man's rich with little, were his judgment trvo, The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay Nature is frugal, and her wants are few; Resounded up the rocky way,
Those few wants answered, bring sincere delights And faint from farther distance borne, But fools create themselves new appetites. Were hcard the clanging hoof, and horn.
Fancy and pride seek
ings at vast expense, As chief, who hears his warder call,
Which relish nor to reason nor to sense. " To ams! the foeman storm the wall," When surfeit or unthankfulness destroys, The antlered monarch of the waste
In nature's narrow sphere, our solid joys, Sprung from his heathery couch, in haste. In fancy's airy land of noise and show, But, ere his fleet career he took,
Where nought but dreams, no real pleasures grow The dew-drops, from his flanks, he shook: Like cats in air-pumps, to subsist we strive, Like crested leader, proud, and high, On joys too thin to keep the soul alive.- Young.
679, A CURE FOR HARD TIMES. are too fond of showing out in our families; and, in this way, our expenses far exceed our incomes. Our daughters-must be dressed off in their silks and crapes, instead of their ansey-woolsey. Our young folks--are too proud to be seen in a coarse dress, and their extravagance is bringing ruin on our families. When you can induce your sons to prefer young women, for their real worth, rather than for their show; when you can get them to choose a wife, who can make a good loaf of bread, and a good pound of butter, in preference to a girl, who does nothing but dance about in her silks, and her laces; then, gentiemen, you may expect to see a change for the better. We must get back to the good old simplicity of former times, if we expect to see more prosperous days. The time was, even since memory, when a simple note was good for any amount of money, but now bonds and mortgages are thought almost no security; and this owing to the want of confidence.
And what has caused this want of confidence? Why, it is occasioned by the extravagant manner of living; by your families going in debt beyond your ability to pay.
Examine this matter, gentlemen, and you will find this to be the real cause. Teach your sons to be too proud to ride a hackney, which their father cannot pay for. Let them be above being seen sporting, in a gig, or a carriage, which their father is in debt for. Let them' have this sort of independent pride, and I venture to say, that you will soon perceive a reformation. But, until the change commences in this way in our families; until we begin the work ourselves, it is in vain to expect better times.
Now, gentlemen, if you think as I do on this subject, there is a way of showing that you do think so, and but one way; when you return to your homes, have independence enough to put these principles in practice; and I am sure you will not be disappointed.
680. THE FIRE-SIDE.
In folly's maze advance;
Nor join the giddy dance.
Where love-our hours employs;
To spoil our heart-felt joys.
And they are fools, who roam :
And that dear hut, our home.
That safe retreat, the ark;
Explor'd the sacred bark.
By sweet experience know,
A paradise below.
Whence pleasures ever rise :
And train them for the skies.
And crown our hoary hairs :
And recompense our cares.
Or, by the world forgot;
And bless our humbler lot.
For nature's calls are few :
And make that little do.
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
Nor lose the present hour.
And pleas'd, with favors givin:
Whose fragrance-smells to heav'n
But, when our feast is o'er,
The relics of our store.
With cautious steps, we'll tread;
And mingle with the dead.
And cheer our dying breath;
And smooth the bed of death.-Cotwa.
crown'd; Ye fields, where summer spreads profasion round Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale; Ye bending awains, that dress the flowery vale i For me your tributary stores combine: Creation's heir, the world, the world is m'ac.