ufactured his army out of what? Out of Englishmen, the best blood in Europe. And with it he conquered what? Englishmen, their equals. This man manufactured his army out of what? Out of what you call the despicable race of negroes, debased, demoralized by two hundred years of slavery, 100,000 of them imported into the island within four years, unable to speak a dialect intelligible even to each other. Yet out of this mixed mass he forged a thunderbolt, and hurled it at what? At the proudest blood in Europe, the Spaniard, and sent him home conquered; at the most warlike blood in Europe, the French, and put them under his feet; at the pluckiest blood in Europe, the English, and they skulked home to Jamaica. Now, if Cromwell was a general, at least this man was a soldier. Cromwell was only a soldier, his fame stops there. Not one line in the statute book of Britain can be traced to Cromwell; not one step in the social life of England finds its motive-power in his brain. The state he founded went down with him to its grave. But this man no sooner put his hand on the helm of state, than the ship steadied with an upright keel, and he began to evince a statesmanship as marvellous as his military genius. In 1800, this negro made a proclamation, it runs thus: "Sons of St. Domingo, come home. We never meant to take your houses or your lands. The negro only asked that liberty that God gave him. Your houses wait for you, your lands are ready, come and cultivate them." And from Madrid and Paris, from Baltimore and New Orleans, the emigrant planters crowded home to enjoy their estates, under the pledged wordthat was

never broken-of a victorious slave.

I would call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his way to empire over broken oaths and through a

sea of blood. This man never broke his word. "No retaliation," was his great motto and the rule of his life. I would call him Cromwell, but Cromwell was only a soldier. I would call him Washington, but the great Virginian held slaves. This man risked his empire, rather than permit the slave-trade in the humblest village in his dominions. You think

me a fanatic, for you read history not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But when Truth gets a hearing, the muse of history will put Phocion for the Greek, Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, Washington as the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, and John Brown the ripe fruit of our noonday; then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the statesman, the martyr,- Toussaint L'Ouverture.

GALILEO GALILEI.

EDWARD EVERETT.

THERE is much in every way in the city of Florence to excite the curiosity, kindle the imagination, and gratify the taste; but among all its fascinations, addressed to the sense, the memory, and the heart, there was none to which I more frequently gave a meditative hour, during a year's residence, than to the spot where Galileo Galilei sleeps beneath the marble floor of Santa Croce; no buildings on which I gazed with greater reverence than I did upon that modest mansion at Arceti, villa at once, and prison, in which that venerable sage, by command of the Inquisition, passed the sad closing years of his life. Of all the wonders of ancient and modern art, statues and paintings, jewels and manuscripts, the admira

tion and delight of ages, there is nothing I beheld with more affectionate awe, than that poor little spyglass, through which the human eye first pierced the clouds of visual error, which from the creation of the world had involved the system of the universe.

I can

There are occasions in life in which a great mind lives years of rapt enjoyment in a moment. fancy the emotions of Galileo, when first raising the newly constructed telescope to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the grand prophecy of Copernicus, and beheld the planet Venus, crescent like the moon. It was such another moment as that, when the immortal printers of Mentz and Strasburg received the first copy of the Bible into their hands, the work of their divine art; like that, when Columbus, through the gray dawn of the 12th of October, 1492, beheld the shores of San Salvador; like that, when the law of gravitation first revealed itself to the intellect of Newton; like that, when Franklin saw by the stiffening fibres of the hempen cord of his kite, that he held the lightning in his grasp; like that, when Leverrier received back from Berlin the tidings that the predicted planet was found.

Yes, noble Galileo, thou art right! "It does move." Bigots may make thee recant it, but it moves nevertheless. Yes, the earth moves, and the planets move, and the mighty waters move, and the great sweeping tides of air move, and the empires of men move, and the world of thought moves ever onward and upward to higher facts and bolder theories. The Inquisition may seal thy lips, but they can no more stop the progress of the great truth propounded by Copernicus, and demonstrated by thee, than they can stop the revolving earth. Close now, venerable sage, that sightless, tearful eye! It has seen what man never before saw, it has seen enough. Hang up

ROBERT EMMETT'S LAST SPEECH.

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that poor little spy-glass, it has done its work. Not Herschel nor Rosse have, comparatively, done more. Franciscans and Dominicans deride thy discoveries now, but the time will come when from two hundred observatories in Europe and America the glorious artillery of science shall nightly assault the stars, but they shall gain no conquests in those glittering fields, before which thine shall be forgotten. Rest in peace, great Columbus of the heavens! like him scorned, persecuted, broken-hearted. In other ages, in distant hemispheres, when the votaries of science shall dedicate their stately edifices to the cause of knowledge and truth, thy name shall be mentioned with honor!

ROBERT EMMETT'S LAST SPEECH.

My Lords! I am charged with being an emissary of France, an emissary of France! and for what end? It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence of my country; - and for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? Is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No! I am no emissary! My ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country, not in power, not in profit, but in the glory of the achievement. Sell my country's independence to France! And for what? For a change of masters? No, but for "ambition"!

Oh, my country! was it personal ambition that could influence me? Had that been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself among the proudest of your oppressors? My country was my idol; to it, I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment, and for it I now

offer up my life. No, my Lords, I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction. It was for these ends I sought aid from France, because France, even as an enemy, could not be more implacable than the enemy already in the bosom of my country.

Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor! Let no man attaint my memory by believing that I could have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and independence! I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor for the same reason that I would resist the domestic tyrant. In the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for my country, who have subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and my country her independence, am I to be loaded with calumny and not suffered to resent it? No! Heaven forbid !

If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and cares of those who were dear to them in this transitory life, O ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father! look down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son, and see if I have, even for a moment, deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instil into my youthful mind, and for which I am now to offer up my life.

My Lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice. Be ye patient. I have but a few words more to say. My lamp of life is nearly extinguished! My race is