for which they had been delegated-the freedom of their beloved country, and the restoration of fallen man.

They felt that they were Apostles of human liberty; and well did they fulfil their high commission. They rested not until they had accomplished their work at home, and given such an impulse to the great ocean of mind, that they saw the waves rolling on to the farthest shore, before they were called to their reward. And then they left the world, hand in hand, exulting, as they rose, in the success of their labours.

Adams and Jefferson were born, the first in Massachusetts, on the 19th of October, 1735; the last in Virginia, on the 2d of April, 1743. On the earliest opening of their characters, it was manifest that they were marked for distinction. They both displayed that thirst for knowledge, that restless spirit of inquiry, that fervid sensibility, and that bold, fearless independence of thought, which are among the surest prognostics of exalted talent; and, fortunately for them, as well as for their country and mankind, the Universities in their respective neighbourhoods opened to their use all the fountains of ancient and modern learning.

With what appetite they drank at these fountains, we need no testimony of witnesses to inform us. The living streams which afterwards flowed from their own lips and pens, are the best witnesses that can be called, of their youthful studies. They were, indeed, of that gifted order of minds, to which early instruction is of little other use than to inform them of their own powers, and to indicate the objects of human knowledge. Education was not with them, as with minor characters, an attempt to plant new talents and new qualities in a strange and reluctant soil. It was the development, merely, of those which already existed.

Thus, the pure and disinterested patriotism of Aristides, the firmness of Cato, and the devotion of Curtius, only awakened the principles that were sleeping in their young hearts, and touched the responding chords with which Heaven had attuned them. The statesman-like vigour of Pericles, and the spirit-stirring energy of Demosthenes, only roused their own lion powers, and informed them of their strength. Aristotle, and Bacon, and Sidney, and

Locke, could do little more than to disclose to them their native capacity for the profound investigation and ascertainment of truth; and Newton taught their power to range among the stars. In short, every model to which they looked, and every great master to whom they appealed, only moved into life the scarcely dormant energies with which Heaven had endued them; and they came forth from the discipline, not decorated for pomp, but armed for battle.

LESSON CXXIII.

Anecdote of Napoleon.-DUCHESS D'ABRANTES.

THE Emperor, on arriving at Brienne, made several inquiries after old Mother Margaret: such was the appellation given to a good wife who occupied a cottage in the midst of the forest, to which the pupils of the military school had, in days of yore, made frequent excursions Napoleon had not forgotten the name, and he learned with no less pleasure than surprise, that the good old dame was still in existence. Continuing his morning ride, he struck into the forest, galloped to the well-known spot, and having dismounted, unceremoniously entered the cottage. Age had somewhat impaired the old woman's sight, and the Emperor's person was much changed.

"Good morning, Mother Margaret," said Napoleon, saluting his hostess; "it seems you have no curiosity to see the Emperor ?"

"Yes, but I have; I should like of all things to see him, and I intend to take that basket of fresh eggs to Madame de Brienne, that I may be invited to remain at the chateau, and so catch a glimpse of the Emperor. Ah! I shall not see him so well to-day as formerly, when he used to accompany his comrades to old Mother Margaret's and call for a bowl of new milk. To be sure, he was not Emperor then, but no matter; the rest marched before him. He always made them pay me for my milk, eggs, brown bread, and broken crockery, and commenced by paying his own share of the reckoning."

"Then,” replied Napoleon, with a smile, "you have not forgotten Bonaparte !"

"Forgotten him! Do you think one could forget such a steady, serious, melancholy-like, young gentleman, so considerate too for the poor? I am a weak old woman, but I always foretold that the lad would turn out well.". Why, yes; he has made his way."

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At the commencement of this short dialogue, the Emperor had turned his back to the door, and consequently to the light; the narrow entrance thus blocked up, the interior of the cottage was left in darkness. By degrees, however, he approached the old woman, and the light again penetrated from without. The Emperor, upon this, rubbing his hands together, and assuming the tone and manners of his early youth-" Come, Mother Margaret," said he, "bestir yourself-some milk and fresh eggs; I am half dead with hunger."

Margaret stared at her visitor, and seemed as though endeavouring to recall her buried recollections.

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Ha, ha!" said the Emperor, laughing; "how positive you were just now that you had not forgotten Bonaparte! we are old acquaintances, dame!"

Meanwhile, old Margaret had fallen at the Emperor's

feet.

Raising her with unaffected kindness,-"Have you nothing to give me, Mother Margaret," said he; "I am hungry-as hungry as a student."

The poor woman, beside herself with joy, hastily laid before her guest some fresh eggs and new milk. His repast finished, Napoleon forced his purse into the hands of his hostess, at the same time observing, "You recollect, Margaret, I used to make every one pay his reckoning. Adieu! I shall not forget you ;" and as he again mounted his horse and rode away, the old Dame, weeping with excess of delight, and straining her eyes to catch a last look, could only recompense him with her prayers.

LESSON CXXIV.

Reply to Sir Robert Walpole.-LORD CHATHAM.

SIR, The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, Sir, assume the province of determining; but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appear to prevail, when the passions have subsided.

The wretch, who after seeing 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 not that his grey hairs should secure him from insult. Much more, Sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he 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, Sir, is not my only crime; I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man.

In the first sense, Sir, 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 gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience. But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behaviour, imply, that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator, and a vil

lain;—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, Sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure: the heat that offended them, is the ardour 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 endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainy, and whoever may partake of his plunder.

LESSON CXXV.

Scene from "Pizarro."-SHERIDAN.

Sentinel. Who's there? answer quickly! who's there? Rolla. (Enters disguised as a monk.) A friar come to visit your prisoner. Inform me, friend, is not Alonzo, the Spanish prisoner, confined in this dungeon?

Sen. He is.

Sen. Not if he were your brother.

Rol. What is to be his fate?

Sen. He dies at sun-rise.

Rol. Ha! then I am come in time.

Sen. Just to witness his death.

Rol. Soldier, I must speak with him.
Sen. Back! back! it is impossible.

Rol. I do entreat you, but for one moment.

Sen. You entreat in vain. My orders are most strict. Rol. Even now, I saw a messenger go hence.