2. OPINION RELATIVE TO THE RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA.- —Burke.

"But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." Oh, inestimable right! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of money. Oh, invaluable right! for the sake of which we have sacrificed our rank among nations, our importance abroad, and our happiness at home! Oh, right! more dear to us than our existence, which has already cost us so much, and which seems likely to cost us our all. Infatuated man! miserable and undone country! not to know that the claim of right, without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a right to tax America, the noble lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax America. This is the profound logic which comprises the whole chain of his reasoning.

Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him who resolved to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have you considered the resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt? No, says the madman, I have considered nothing but the right.Man has a right of dominion over the beasts of the forest and therefore I will shear the wolf. How wonderful that a nation could be thus deluded. But the noble lord deals in cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of his invention; and he will continue to play off his cheats on this house, so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so long as he has money enough at command to bribe gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a black and bitter day of reckoning will surely come; and whenever that day comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment, to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calamities, the punishment they deserve.

3. JACK TO SIR JOHN.-Kotzebue.

A nobler lad than your honor's son never broke biscuit. On our return, as we were steering about two hundred leagues to the westward of the Canary Islands, we spied, one morning early, something at a distance in the sea, which we were not able to fathom. Some short time after, we heard the report of two guns, and then saw a piece of sail-cloth flying. 'Look," cried the captain, "these are certainly signals of distress;" and

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indeed so they were! We took in the top-sails and lay-to till the thing approached us. Your honor, I am but a rough fellow, but dash my timbers, if my upper bowsprit is not always wet with spray-water whenever I think of it! (weeps.) Twentythree poor wretches in a small rotten boat, who had not a morsel of biscuit between their teeth for five long days! It seems their ship had taken fire in the middle of the sea, and these men had with great difficulty escaped into the boat, and were now driving at the mercy of the wind! another day must have done for them all!-The captain, a brave Dutchman, had lost. every thing but his life and honor. He had left a young wife and three small children, who were starving!-Ah! your honor, he pumped clear water from both his eyes, whenever he mentioned them. My brave young master could not bear this :"Comrade," said he, “I have no wife—no child—and I have five thousand pounds-Here, do you take the money, and heaven bless you with it!" He then put him and all his crew ashore at the first harbor we reached.

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"But we must pause!" says the honorable gentleman. What! must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out-her best blood be spilt her treasures wasted-that you may make an experie ment? Put yourselves, Oh! that you would put yourselves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of horrors that you excite. In former wars a man might, at least, have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance in his mind the impressions which a scene of carnage and of death must inflict. But if a man were present now at a field of slaughter, and were to inquire for what they were fighting,-" Fighting!" would be the answer; "they are not fighting; they are pausing." 'Why is that man expiring? Why is that other writhing with agony? What means this implacable fury?" The answer must be," You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive yourself— they are not fighting-do not disturb them-they are merely pausing! This man is not expiring with agony-that man is not dead he is only pausing! Lord help you, sir! they are not angry with one another: they have now no cause of quarrel; but their country thinks that there should be a pause. All that you see, sir, is nothing like fighting-there is no harm, nor cruelty, nor bloodshed in it, whatever; it is nothing more than a political pause! It is merely to try an experiment—to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than hereto

fore; and in the meantime we have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship!"

And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates of order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize the world-to destroy order to trample on religion— to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of noble sentiment, but the affections of social nature; and in the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devastation all around you.

5. CHARLES DE MOOR'S REMORSE.-Schiller.

I must rest here.-My joints are shaken asunder.-My tongue cleaves to my mouth, it is dry as a potsherd.-I would beg of some of you, to fetch me a little water, in the hollow of your hand, from yonder brook; but all of you are weary to death. How glorious, how majestic, yonder setting sun!'Tis thus the hero falls, 'tis thus he dies,-in godlike majesty!When I was a boy,-a mere child,—it was my favorite thought, to live and die like that sun. 'Twas an idle thought, a boy's conceit. There was a time-leave me, my friends, alone;there was a time, when I could not sleep, if I had forgot my prayers! Oh that I were a child once more!—

What a lovely evening! what a pleasing landscape!-That scene is noble! this world is beautiful! the earth is grand!But I am hideous in this world of beauty-a monster on this magnificent earth-the prodigal son:-My innocence! Oh my innocence !-All nature expands at the sweet breath of spring: but, Oh God, this paradise-this heaven is a hell to me!—All is happiness around me,-all in the sweet spirit of peace; the world is one family,-but its father there above is not my father!—I am an outcast-the prodigal son! the companion of murderers, of viperous fiends! bound down enchained to guilt and horror!-Oh! that I could return once more to peace and innocence! that I hung an infant on the breast! that I were born a beggar the meanest kind-a peasant of the field! I would toil, till the sweat of blood dropt from my brow, to purchase the luxury of one sound sleep, the rapture of a single tear! There was a time when I could weep with ease. days of bliss! Oh mansion of my fathers! Scenes of my infant years, enjoyed by fond enthusiasm! will you no more return? No more exhale your sweets to cool this burning bosom? Oh! never, never shall they return! No more refresh this bosom with the breath of peace. They are gone! gone for ever!

Oh

6. THE PASSING OF THE RUBICON.-.
-Knowles.

A gentleman, Mr. President, speaking of Cæsar's benevolent disposition, and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil war, observes, "How long did he pause upon the brink of the Rubicon!" How came he to the brink of that river! How dared he cross it! Shall private men respect the boundaries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's rights?. How dared he cross that river! Oh! but he paused upon the brink! He should have perished upon the brink ere he had crossed it! Why did he pause? Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the point of committing an unlawful deed! Why does the very murderer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye, taking the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal part? Because of conscience! "Twas that made Cæsar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon. Compassion! What compassion! The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon begins to cut! Cæsar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! What was the Rubicon? The boundary of Cæsar's province. From what did it separate his province? From his country. Was that country a desert? No: it was cultivated and fertile; rich and populous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friendship was its inhabitant! Love was its inhabitant! Domestic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty was its inhabitant! All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was Cæsar, that stood upon the bank of that stream? A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country! No wonder that he paused-no wonder if, his imagination wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water; and heard groans, instead of murmurs! No wonder, if some gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the spot! But, no!-he cried, "The die is cast!" He plunged! he crossed!-and Rome was free no more!

7. TO THE YOUNG.-Logan.

Now is your golden age. When the morning of life rejoices over your head, every thing around you puts on a smiling appearance. All nature wears a face of beauty, and is animated with a spirit of joy: you walk up and down in a new world;

you crop the unblown flower, and drink the untasted spring. Full of spirit, and high in hope, you set out on the journey of life: visions of bliss present themselves to view: dreams of joy, with sweet delusion, amuse the vacant mind. You listen, and accord to the song of hope, "To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant." But, ah! my young friends, the flattering scene will not last. The spell is quickly broken, and the enchantment soon over. How hideous will life appear, when experience takes off the mask, and discovers the sad reality! Now thou hast no weariness to clog thy waking hours, and no care to disturb thy repose. But know, child of the earth, that thou art born to trouble; and that care, through every subsequent path of life, will haunt thee like a ghost. Health now sparkles in thine eye, the blood flows pure in thy veins, and thy spirits are gay as the morning: but, alas! the time will come, when diseases, a numerous and direful train, will assail thy life; the time will come, when, pale and ghastly, and stretched on a bed, chastened with pain, and the multitude of thy bones with strong pain, thou wilt be ready to choose strangling and death, rather than life.”

You are now happy in your earthly companions. Friendship, which in the world is a feeble sentiment, with you is a strong passion. But shift the scene for a few years, and behold the man of thy right-hand, become unto thee as an alien. Behold the friend of thy youth, who was one with thine own soul, striving to supplant thee, and laying snares for thy ruin! I mention not these things, my young friends, to make you miserable before the time. God forbid, that I should anticipate the evil day, unless I could arm you against it. Now, remember your Creator, consecrate to him the early period of your days, and the light of his countenance will shine upon you through life. Amid all the changes of this fluctuating scene, you have a friend that never fails. Then, let the tempests beat, and the floods descend, you are safe and happy, under the shelter of the rock of ages.

8. CONTEMPLATION OF THE DIVINE BEING IN HIS WORKS.Fielding.

What time can suffice for the contemplation and worship of that glorious, immortal, and eternal Being; among the works of whose stupendous creation, not only this globe, but even those numberless luminaries, which we may here behold spangling