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ling villages shall be reflected from the waves of the Missouri, and the distant valleys of the West echo with the song of the reaper; till the wilderness and the solitary place shall have been glad for us, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose.
Our labours are not to cease, until the last slave-ship shall have visited the coast of Africa, and the nations of Europe and America having long since redressed her aggravated wrongs, Ethiopia, from the Mediterranean to the Cape, shall have stretched forth her hand unto God.
How changed will then be the face of Asia! Bramins, and sooders, and castes, and shasters, will have passed away, like the mist which rolls up the mountain's side, before the rising glories of a summer's morning, while the land on which it rested, shining forth in all its loveliness, shall, from its numberless habitations, send forth the high praises of God and the Lamb. The Hindoo mother will gaze upon her infant with the same tenderness, which throbs in the breast of any one of you who now hears me, and the Hindoo son will pour into the wounded bosom of his widowed parent, the oil of peace and consolation.
In a word, point us to the loveliest village that smiles upon a Scottish or New England landscape, and compare it with the filthiness and brutality of a Caffrarian kraal, and we tell you that our object is, to render that Caffrarian kraal as happy and as gladsome as that Scottish or New England village. Point us to the spot on the face of the earth, where liberty is best understood and most perfectly enjoyed, where intellect shoots forth in its richest luxuriance, and where all the kindlier feelings of the heart are constantly seen in their most graceful exercise; point us to the loveliest and happiest neighbourhood in the world on which we dwell; and we tell you that our object is, to render this whole earth, with all its nations and kindreds and tongues and people, as happy, nay, happier than that neighbourhood.
DEATH OF HAMILTON.-Nott.
A SHORT time since, and he who is the occasion of our sorrows, was the ornament of his country. 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 splendour of victoryhow humble appears the majesty of grandeur. The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst: and we again see that all below the sun is vanity.
True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. sad and solemn procession has moved. The badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues.
Approach, and behold-while I lift from his sepulchre 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! And is this all that remains of him?-During a life so transitory, what lasting monument then can our fondest hopes erect?
My brethren! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immortal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten?
Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have
been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already told you, from his death-bed, and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well known eloquence, the solemn admonition.
"Mortals! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors -Cultivate the virtues I have recommended-Choose the Saviour I have chosen-Live disinterestedly-Live for immortality; and would you rescue anything from final disso. lution, lay it up in God."
EXTRACT FROM AN ADDRESS TO THE CITIZENS OF BOSTON, AT THE CLOSE OF THE SECOND CENTURY FROM THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF THE CITY. BY JOSIAH QUINCY.
As our thoughts course along the events of past times, from the hour of the first settlement of Boston to that in which we are now assembled, they trace the strong features of its character, indelibly impressed upon its acts and in its history;-clear conceptions of duty; bold vindications of right; readiness to incur dangers and meet sacrifices, in the maintenance of liberty, civil and religious.
Early selected as the place of the chief settlement of New England, it has, through every subsequent period, maintained its relative ascendency. In the arts of peace and in the energies of war, in the virtues of prosperity and adversity, in wisdom to plan and vigour to execute, in extensiveness of enterprise, success in accumulating wealth, and liberality in its distribution, its inhabitants, if not unrivalled, have not been surpassed by any similar society of
Amidst perils and obstructions, on the bleak side of the mountain on which it was first cast, the seedling oak, selfrooted, shot upward with a determined vigour. Now slighted and now assailed; amidst alternating sunshine and storm; with the axe of a native foe at its root, and the lightning of a foreign power, at times, scathing its top, or withering its branches, it grew, it flourished, it stands,-may it forever stand!-the honour of the field.
On this occasion, it is proper to speak of the founders of our city, and of their glory. Now in its true acceptate, the term glory expresses the splendour, which emanates from virtue in the act of producing general and permauent good. Right conceptions then of the glory of our ancestors, are alone to be attained by analyzing their virtues. These virtues, indeed, are not seen charactered in breathing bronze, or in living marble. Our ancestors have left no Corinthian temples on our hills, no Gothic cathedrals on our plains, no proud pyramid, no storied obelisk in our cities. But Mind is there. Sagacious Enterprise is there. An active, vigorous, intelligent, moral population throng our cities, and predominate in our fields; men, patient of labour, submissive to law, respectful to authority, regardful of right, faithful to liberty. These are the monuments of our ancestors. They stand immutable and immortal, in the social, moral, and intellectual condition of their descendants. They exist in the spirit, which their precepts instilled, and their example implanted.
Let no man think that to analyze, and place in a just light, the virtues of the first settlers of New England, is a departure from the purpose of this celebration; or deem so meanly of our duties, as to conceive that merely local relations, the circumstances which have given celebrity and character to this single city, are the only, or the most appropriate topics for the occasion. It was to this spot, during twelve successive years, that the great body of those first settlers emigrated. In this place, they either fixed permanently their abode, or took their departure from it for the coast, or the interior.
Whatever honour devolves on this metropolis from the events connected with its first settlement, is not solitary nor exclusive; it is shared with Massachusetts; with New England; in some sense, with the whole United States. For what part of this wide empire, be it sea or shore, lake or river, mountain or valley, have the descendants of the first settlers of New England not traversed? what depth of forest, not penetrated? what danger of nature or man, not defied? Where is the cultivated field, in redeeming which from the wilderness, their vigour has not been displayed? Where, amid unsubdued nature, by the side of the first log hut of the settler, does the school-house stand and the churchspire rise, unless the sons of New England are there? Where does improvement advance, under the active energy
of willing hearts and ready hands, prostrating the mosscovered monarchs of the wood, and from their ashes, amid their charred roots, bidding the green sward and the waying harvest to upspring, and the spirit of the fathers of New England is not seen, hovering, and shedding around the benign influences of sound, social, moral, and religious institutions, stronger and more enduring than knotted oak or tempered steel?
The swelling tide of their descendants has spread upon our coasts; ascended our rivers; taken possession of our plains. Already it encircles our lakes. At this hour the rushing noise of the advancing wave startles the wild beast in his lair among the prairies of the West. Soon it shall be seen climbing the Rocky Mountains, and, as it dashes over their cliffs, shall be hailed by the dwellers on the Pacific, as the harbinger of the coming blessings of safety, liberty, and truth.
MR. BROUGHAM'S INVECTIVE AGAINST LORD CASTLEREAGH.
IF one page in the history of the late Congress be blacker than another, it is that which records the deeds of Lord Castlereagh against Genoa. When I approach this subject, and reflect on the powerful oratory, the force of argument, as well as of language, backed by the high authority of virtue, a sanction ever deeply felt in this House, once displayed in the cause of that ill-fated republic, by tongues now silent, but which used to be ever eloquent where public justice was to be asserted, or useful truth fearlessly inculcated, I feel hardly capable of going on.
My lasting sorrow for the loss we have sustained, is made deeper by the regret, that those lamented friends live not to witness the punishment of that foul conduct, which they solemnly denounced. The petty tyrant, to whom the noble lord delivered over that ancient and gallant people, almost as soon as they had at his call joined the standard of national independence, has since subjected them to the most rigorous provisions of his absurd code; a code directed especially against the commerce of this country, and actually less unfavorable to France.