Seems like a canopy, which Love hath spread, In southern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field, 618. LIBERTY AND UNION. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept sta li'y view, the prosperity, and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our federal union. It is to that union we owe our safety at home, and our considerat on and dignity abroad. It is to that union, that we are chef ly indebte 1, for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That union we reached, only by the disc.pline of our virtues, in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin, in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration-has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility, and its blessings; and although our territory has stretched out, wider and wider. and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection, or its benefits. It has been to us all, a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the bonds, that unite us together, shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of dis. union, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom-the depth-of the abyss-below; nor could i regard him, as a safe counsellor in the a ta rs of this government, whose thoughts Ah! whence yon glare should be mainly bent on considering, not That fires the arch of heaven? that dark red smoke, how the union should be preserved, but, how Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched tolerab'e might be the condition of the people, In darkness, and the pure spangling snow when it shall be broken up, and destroyed. Gleams, fantly, thro' the gloom, that gathers round While the union lasts, we have high, excit-Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals, ing, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us, and our children. Bet that, I seek not to penetrate the vail. God grant. that, in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant, that on my vision, never may be opened what lies behind. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last tine, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken, and dishonored fragments of a once glorious union; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land, rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known, and honored, throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies-streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased, or polluted, nor a single star obscured-bearing for its motto, no such miserable interrogatory as-What is all this worth? Nor those of her words of delusion and folly-Liberty-first, and union-afterwards- but everywhere, spread all over in characters of lining light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea, and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that ofher sentiment, dear to every-true-American | heart-Liberty and union, no, and forever, one-and inseparable!-Webster. In countless echoes through the mountains ring, The gray morn [smoke, Dawns on the mournful scene; the sulphurous Before the icy wind, slow rolls away, And the bright beams of frosty morning dance Along the spangling snow. There, tracks of bloo Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, And lifeless warriors, whose hard l'neaments Death's self could change not. mark the dreadful Of the out-sallying victors: far behind, [path Black ashes note, where their prout city stood. With you forest, is a glooommy glenEach tree, which guards its darkness from the day, Thro' which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Waves o'er a warrior's tomb.-Shelly. 619. MOONLIGHT, AND A BATTLE-FIELD. How beautiful this night! the balin est sigh, Which vernal zephyrs breathe, in Evening's ear. Were discord, to the speaking quietude, [vault. That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon Studded with stars unutterably bright. 620. GOODNESS OF GOD. The light of nature, the works of creation, the general consent of nations, in harmony with divine revelation, attest the being, the perfections, and the providence of God. Whatever cause we have, to lament the frequent inconsistency of human conduct, with this belief, yet an avowed atheist is a monster, that rarely makes his appearance. God's government of the affairs of the universe, an acknowledgment of his active, superintending providence, over that portion of it, which constitutes the globe we inhabit, is rejected, at least theoretically, by very few. That a superior, invisible power, is contintally employed in managing and controlling by secret, imperceptible, irresistible means, all the transactions of the world, is so often manifested in the disappointment, as well as in the success of our plans, that blind and depraved must our minds be, to deny, what every day's transactions so fully prove. The excellence of the divine character, especially in the exercise of that goodness towards his creatures, which is seen in the dispensation of their daily benefits, and in overruling occurring events, to the increase of their happiness, is equally obvious. THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. For often at noon, when returned from the field, As fancy-reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket, which hangs in the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, Do we desire evidence of these things? Who is without them, in the experience of The moes-covered bucket, which hangs in the well. his own life? Who has not reason, to thank 621. RIGHT OF FREE DISCUSSION. ImGod for the success, which has attended his exertions in the world! Who has not reason portant, as I deem it, to discuss, on all prop er occasions, the policy of the measures, at to thank him, for defeating plans, the accomplishment of which, it has been afterwards present pursued, it is still more important een, would have resulted in injury, or ruin? to maintain the right of such discussion, in Who has not cause, to present him the unaf- its full, and just extent. Sentiments, lately fected homage of a grateful heart, for the con- sprung up, and now growing fashionable, sequences of events, apparently the most un-make it necessary to be explicit on this point. propitious, and for his unquestionable kindness, in the daily supply of needful mercies! PROGRESS OF LIBERTY. Why muse The more I perceive a disposition-to check the freedom of inquiry, by extravagant, and unconstitutional pretences, the firmer shall be the tone, in which I shall assert, and the freer the manner, in which I shall exercise it. It is the ancient and undoubted preroga tive of this people-to canvass public meas ures, and the merits of public men. It is a "home bred right," a fireside privilege. It hath ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage, and cabin, in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted, as the right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth. Belonging to private life, as a right, it belongs to public life, as a duty; and it is the last duty which those, whose repre sentative I am, shall find me to abandon. Aiming, at all times, to be courteous, and temperate in its use, except, when the right itself shall be questioned, I shall then carry it to its extent. I shall place myself on the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any arm, that would move me from my ground. This high, constitutional privilege, I shall defend, and exercise, within this house, and without this house, and in all places; in time of peace, and in all times. Living, I shall assert it; and, should I leave no other inheri tance to my children, by the blessing of God, of heaven were prisoned in its soundless depths, I will leave them the inheritance of free prin And struggling to be free. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, What is fame? A fancy'd life in others' breath. 1 ciples, and the example of a manly, inde Away, away, without a wing, Forgetting-what it was to dic.-Byron. GENUINE TASTE. To the eye of taste, each season of the year has its peculiar beauties; nor does the venerable oak, when fringed with the hoary ornaments of winter, afford a pros pect, less various, or delightful, than, when decked in the most luxuriant foliage. Is, then, the winter of life-connected with no associa tions, but those of horror? This can never 622. PEACE AND WAR CONTRASTED. The morality of peaceful times-is directly opposite to the maxims of war. The fundamental rule of the first is-to do good; of the latter, to inflict injuries. The former-commands us to succor the oppressed; the latter to overwhelm the defenceless. The former teaches men to love their enemies; the latter, to make themselves terrible to strangers. The rules of morality-will not suffer us to promote the dearest interest, by falsehood; the maxins of war applaud it, when employed in the destruction of others. That a lamiliarity with such maxims, must tend to hardenbe the case, until ideas of contempt-are assothe heart, as well as to pervert the moral sentiments, is too obvious to need illustration. The natural consequence of their prevalence is an unfeeling, and unprincipled ambition, with an idolatry of talents, and a contempt of virtue; whence the esteem of mankind is turned from the humble, the beneficent, and the good, to men who are qualified, by a genius, fertile in expedients, a courage, that is never appalled, and a heart, that never pities, to becoine the destroyers of the earth. While the philanthropist is devising means to mitigate the evils, and augment the happiness of the world, a fellow-worker together with God, in exploring, and giving elect to the benevolent tendencies of nature; the warrior-is revolving, in the gloomy recesses of his capacious mind, plans of future devastation and ruin. Prisons, crowded with captives; cities, emptied of their inhabitants; fields, desolate and waste, are among his proudest trophies. The fabric of his fame is cemented with tears and blood; and if his name is wafted to the ends of the earth, it is in the shrill cry of suffering humanity; in the curses and imprecations of those whom his sword has reduced to despair. 623. IMMORTAL MIND. When coldness-wraps this suffering clay, But leaves its darkened dust behind. By steps, each planet's heavenly way? A thought unseen, but seeing all, Before creation peopled earth, Its eye shall roll-through chaos back; Above all love, hope, hate, or fear, ciated with ideas of wisdom, and experience; Dark is the night! How dark! No light! No fire! Oh, God! protect my child!" The clock strikes three. On the cold earth, outstretched in lemn rest, Dread silence reign'd around:-the clock struck four-Coates. It rests not on externals, nor its worth Derives from gorgeous pomp, or glittering pel£ Or chance of arins, or accident of birth; It lays its foundations in the soul, And piles a tower of virtue to the skies, 625. DARKNESS. 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 bro't no And men forgot their passions, in the dread [day; Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chilled--into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings, the huts, The habitations of all things, which dwell,-Were Larnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, And men w're gather'd round their blazing homes, To look once more into each other's face: Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes, and their mountain torch. A fearful hope--was all-the world contained: Forests were set on fire; but. hour by hour, They fell, and faded, and the crackling trunks Extinguished with a crash, and all was black. The brows of men, by the despairing light, Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits, The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down, And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands,and smil'd; 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 [hands, Even of their mutual hideousness they died, The moon, their mistress, had expired before; 626. TRUE PLEASURE DEFINED. We are affected with delightful sensations, when we see the inanimate parts of the creation, the meadows, flowers, and trees, in a flourishing state. There must be some rooted melancholy at the heart, when all nature appears smiling about us, to hinder us from corresponding with the rest of the creation, and joining in the universal chorus of joy. But if meadows and trees, in their cheerful verdure, if flowers, in their bloom, and all the vegetable parts of the creation, in their most advantageous dress, can inspiré gladness into the heart, and drive away all sadness but despair; to see the rational creation happy, and flourishing, ought to give us a pleasure as much superior, as the latter is to the former, in the scale of being. But the pleasure is still heightened, if we ourselves have been instrumental, in contributing to the happiness of our fellow-creatures, if we have helped to raise a heart, drooping beneath the weight of grief, and revived that barren and dry land, where no water was, with refreshing showers of love and kindness. THE WILDERNESS OF MIND. Than groves of fir-on Huron's shore; Of India's tiger-haunted wood; But constant, he were perfect; that one error- sins; Inconstancy-falls off-ere it begins. Vice is a monster of such hateful mien, That, to be hated-needs but to be seen; Yet, seen too oft-familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 627. GENIUS. 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. This is a character that has figured largely in the history of our literature, in the person of our Fieldings, our Savages, and our Steeles: “loose fellows about town, or loungers in the country," who slept in ale-houses, and wrote in bar-rooms; who took up the pen as a magician's wand, to supply their wants, and, when the pressure of necessity was relieved, resorted again to their carousals. Your real genius is an idle, irregular, vagabond sort of personage; who muses in the fields, or dreams by the tireside: whose strong impulses-that is the cant of it-must needs hurry him into wild irregularities, or foolish eccentricity; who abhors order, and can bear no restraint, and eschews all abor; such a one as Newton or Milton! What! they must have been irregular, else they were no geniuses. "The young man, it is often said, "has genius enough, if he would only study." Now, the truth is, as I shall take the liberty to state it, that the genius will study; it is that in the mind which does study: that is the very nature 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. thus unsought, unpremeditated, unprepar'd!" But the truth is, there is no more a miracle in it, than there is in the towering of the preeminent forest-tree, or in the flowing of the mighty, and irresistible river, or in the wealth, and waving of the boundless harvest.-Dewey. 628. THE THREE BLACK CROWS. Two honest tradesmen-meeting in the Strand, Attention it is, though other qualities belong to this transcendent power,-attention it is, that 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 fire burns within, the outside may be indeed cold, indifferent, negligent, absent in appearance; he may 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 spontaneous, original, native force?" It only shows the intense action of the elements beneath. What though it breaks forth-like" lightning from the cloud? The electric fire had been collecting in the firmament, through many a silent, clear, and calm day. What though the might of genius appears in one decisive blow, struck in some moment of high debate, or at the crisis of a nation's peril! That mighty energy, though it may have heaved in the breast of Demosthenes, was once a feeble infant thought. A mother's eye watched over its dawnings. A father's care guarded its early youth. It soon trod, with Youthful steps, the halls of learning, and found other fathers to wake, and to watch for it, even as it finds them here. It went on; but silence was upon its path, and the deep strugglings of the inward soul silently ministered to it. The elements around breathed upon it, and "touched it to finer issues." The golden ray of heaven fell upon it, and ripened its expanding faculties. The slow revolutions of years slowly added to its collected energies and treasures; till, in its hour of glory, it stood forth imbodied in the form of living, commanding, irresistible eloquence. The world wonders at the manifestation, and says, "Strange, strange, that it should come [fact, diffuse useful information, to farther intellec THE HIGHEST OCCUPATION OF GENIUS. To tual refinement, sure forerunners of moral im provement, to hasten the coming of that bright How soon-time-flies away! yet, as I watch it, |