That an empire, whose several parts were separated by oceans, and whose interests were so often conflicting, should become unwieldy, and fall, in time, by its own weight, was an event that all wise men must have expected to arrive. But, that the Americans did not contemplate such a division, at that early day, may be fairly inferred, if there were no other testimony in the matter, by the quiet and submission that pervaded the colonies the instant that the repeal of the stamp act was known. Had any desire for premature independence existed, the parliament had unwisely furnished abundant fuel, to feed the flame, in the very resolution already mentioned. But, satisfied with the solid advantages they had secured, peaceful in their habits, and loyal in their feelings, the colonists laughed at the empty dignity of their self-constituted rulers, while they congratulated each other on their own more substantial

success.

If the besotted servants of the king had learnt wisdom by the past, the storm would have blown over. Things were hardly suffered, however, to return to their own channels again, before the ministry attempted to revive their claims by new impositions. The design to raise a revenue had been defeated, in the case of the stamp act, by the refusal of the colonists to use the paper; but in the present instance, expedients were adopted, which, it was thought, would be more effective as in the case of tea, where the duty was paid by the East-India Company, in the first instance, and the exaction was to be made on the Americans, through their appetites.

These new innovations on their rights, were met by the colonists with the same promptitude, but with much more of seriousness, than in the former instances. All the provinces south of the Great Lakes, acted in concert on this occasion; and preparations were made to render, not only their remonstrances and petitions more impressive by a unity of action, but their more serious struggles also, should an appeal to force become necessary. The tea was stored or sent back to England, in most cases, though in the town of Boston, a concurrence of circumstances led to the violent measure, on the part of the people, of throwing a large quantity of the offensive article into the sea. To punish this act, which took place in the early part of 1774, the port of Boston was closed, and different laws were enacted in parliament, which were intended to bring the people back to a sense of their dependence on the British power.

LESSON VII.

Extract from Dr. Mayhew's Sermon on the Repeal of the Stamp Act. 1766.

[DR. MAYHEW was descended from the first proprietor of Martha's Vineyard, and his family have furnished several men of piety and talents. He was extensively known in America, and perhaps still more so in Europe, by the bold and vigorous character of his writings. Among these was a sermon on the anniversary of "Charles the Martyr," preached in the year 1750, which went through several editions in Europe, as well as this country; and its wit, sarcasm and unhesitating assertion of the highest principles of freedom, made all, who read it, foes, or admirers. The sermon, from which this extract was made, may be considered the dying testimony of Dr. Mayhew. It was delivered on Friday, May 23d, 1766, and he died on the 8th July following, in the forty-sixth year of his age. His printed sermons form several volumes.

TUDOR.]

"We have never known so quick and general a transition from the depth of sorrow to the height of joy, as on this occasion: nor indeed, so universal a flow of either, on any occasion whatever. It is true, we have heretofore seen times of great adversity. We have known seasons of drought, dearth, and spreading mortal diseases; the pestilence walking in darkness, and destruction wasting at noonday. We have seen devastations made by fire; and amazing tempests, the heaven on flames-the winds and waves roaring. We have known repeated earthquakes, threatening us with destruction. We have known times, when the French and savage armies made terrible havock on our frontiers, carrying all before them for a while; when we have not been without fear, that some capital towns in the colonies would fall into their merciless hands. Such times as these we have known; at some of which, almost every "face gathered paleness," and the knees of all, but the good and brave, waxed feeble. But never have we known a season of such universal consternation and anxiety, among people of all ranks and ages, in these colonies, as was occasioned by that parliamentary procedure, which threatened us and our posterity with perpetual bondage and slavery.

For they, as we generally suppose, are really slaves, to all intents and purposes, who are obliged to labour and toil only for the benefit of others; or, which comes to the same thing, the fruit of whose labour and industry, may be lawfully taken from them, without their consent, and they justly punished, if they refuse to surrender it on demand, or apply it to other purposes than those, which their masters, for their mere grace and pleasure, see fit to allow.

Now are there many American understandings acute enough to distinguish any material difference, between this being done by a single person, under the title of an absolute monarch, and done by a far distant legislature consisting of many per sons, in which they are not represented; and the members whereof, instead of feeling and sharing, equally with them, in the burden thus imposed, are eased of their own in proportion to the greatness and weight of it.

It may be questioned, whether the ancient Greeks or Romans, or any other nation, in which slavery was allowed, carried their idea of it much farther than this. So that our late apprehensions, and universal consternation, on account of ourselves and posterity, were far, very far indeed, from being groundless. For what is there in the world more wretched, than for those who were born free, and have a right to continue so, to be made slaves themselves, and to think of leaving a race of slaves behind them; even though it be to masters confessedly the most humane and generous in the world? Or what wonder is it, if, after groaning with a low voice, for a while, to no purpose, we at length groaned so loudly, as to be heard more than three thousand miles; and to be pitied throughout Europe, wherever it is not hazardous to mention even the name of liberty, unless it be to reproach it, as only another name for sedition, faction or rebellion ?

Having been initiated in youth, in the doctrines of civil liberty, as they were taught by such men as Plató, Demosthenes, Cicero, and other renowned persons among the ancients; and such as Sydney and Milton, Locke and Hoadly, among the moderns, I liked them; they seemed rational. And having learnt from the holy scriptures, that wise, brave, and virtuous men were always friends to liberty; that God gave the Israelites a king, (or absolute monarch) in his anger, because they had not sense and virtue enough to like a free Commonwealth, and to have himself for their king; that the son of God came down from heaven to make us 'free indeed,'

and that where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty;' this made me conclude, that freedom was a great blessing.

Having also from my childhood up, by the kind providence of my God, and the tender care of a good parent, now at rest with him, been educated to the love of liberty, though not licentiousness, which chaste and virtuous passion was still increased in me, as I advanced towards, and into manhood; I would not, I cannot now, though past middle age, relinquish the fair object of my youthful affections, Liberty; whose charms instead of decaying with time in my eyes, have daily captivated me more and more. I was accordingly penetrated with the most sensible grief when, about the first of November last, that day of darkness, a day hardly to be numbered with the days of the year, she seemed about to depart from America, and to leave that ugly hag, Slavery. I am now filled with a proportionate degree of joy in God, on occasion of her speedy return, with new smiles on her face, with augmented beauty and splendour.

Once more then, hail! celestial maid, the daughter of God, and, excepting his son, the first born of heaven! Welcome to these shores again, welcome to every expanding heart! Long mayest though reside among us, the delight of the wise, good and brave; the protectress of innocence from wrong and oppression; the patroness of learning, art, eloquence, virtue, rational loyalty, religion!

And if any miserable people on the continent-or isles of Europe, after being weakened by luxury, debauchery, venality, intestine quarrels, or other vices, should, in rude collisions, or now uncertain revolutions of kingdoms, be driven in their extremity to seek a safe retreat from slavery in some distant climate; let them find, O! let them find one in America, under thy brooding, sacred wings; where our oppressed fathers once found it, and we now enjoy it, by the favour of him, whose service is the most glorious freedom! Never, O! never, may he permit thee to forsake us, for our unworthiness to enjoy thy enlivening presence! By his high permission mayest thou attend us through life and death, to the regions of the blessed, thy original abode, there to enjoy forever, 'the glorious liberty of the sons of God!'

LESSON VIII.

Woods in Winter.-LONGFELLOW.

WHEN winter winds are piercing chill,

And through the white-thorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill,

That over-brows the lonely vale.

O'er the bare upland, and away

Through the long reach of desert woods, The embracing sunbeams chastely play, And gladden these deep solitudes.

On the gray maple's crusted bark

Its tender shoots the hoar-frost nips; Whilst in the frozen fountain—hark! His piercing beak the bittern dips.

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke,—
The crystal icicle is hung.

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river's gradual tidė,

Shrilly the skater's iron rings,.

And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas!-how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay;
And winds were soft-and woods were green→→→
And the song ceased not with the day.

But still wild music is abroad,

Pale, desert woods! within your crowd And gathered winds, in hoarse accord, Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs, and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;

I hear it in the opening year—
I listen, and it cheers me long.