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mace which rests upon that woolsack! What may follow | your course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I cannot take upon me to pre

díct, nor do I wish to conjècture. But this I know full wèll; that, as sure as man is mòrtal, and to err is húman, justice | deferred | enhances the price | at which you must purchase safety and pèace;

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nor can you expect to gather in another | crop | than they did who

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went before you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable | hus

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snatch

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bandry, of sowing | injustice and reaping | rebèllion.

But, among the awful considerations that now bow down my mind, there is one that stands preeminent above the rest. You are

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the highest judicature in the realm; you sit here as judges,

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1 f and decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's | first | duty never to pronounce a sentence, in the most trifling case, f ВО 1 BO

without hearing. Will you make this the excéption? Are you really

prepared to determine, but not to hear, the mighty cause, upon which

a nation's hopes and fears | háng? You áre? Then beware of your

decision! Rouse | not, I beseech you, a peace-loving but a rèsolute

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people! Alienate not from your body the affections of a whole | Em

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pire! As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my

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country, as the faithful | servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to

assist, with your uttermost efforts, in preserving the peace, and uphold

ing and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort

you not to reject | this measure. By all you hold most dear, by all

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the ties that bind every one of us to our common | order and our

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common | country, I solemnly adjùre you, I warn you, I implòre

you,-yea, on my bended knees I supplicate you,-reject | not | this bill!

4. ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. - Daniel O'Connell.

I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House; - I do not rise to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation to which I belong,- toward a nation which, though subject to England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation: it has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not to allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the Press, and of every other institution dear to Englishmen. Against the bill I protest, in the name of the Irish People, and in the face of Heaven. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful assertion that grievances are not to be complained of, — that our redress is not to be agitated; for, in such cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too violent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer.

The clause which does away with trial by jury,— what, in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not the establishment of a revolutionary tribunal? It drives the judge from his bench; it does away with that which is more sacred than the Throne itself, that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your commons assemble. If ever I doubted, before, of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill,this infamous bill, — the way in which it has been received by the House; the manner in which its opponents have been treated; the personalities to which they have been subjected; the yells with which one of them has this night been greeted, all these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those yells will be forgotten? Do you suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and insulted country; that they will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her

lofty hills? Oh, they will be heard there!—yes, and they will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with indignation, they will say, "We are eight millions, and you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey!

I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout, and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppressive, uncalled for, unjust; as establishing an infamous precedent, by retaliating crime against crime;-as tyrannous, cruelly and vindictively tyrannous!

5. EMPLOYMENT OF INDIANS IN THE AMERICAN WAR.
Earl of Chatham.

MY LORDS,-Who is the man that, in addition to the disgraces and mischiefs of the wár, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tómahawk and scalping-knife of the savage?— to call into civilized allíance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods?— to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rìghts, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren?

My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redrèss and pùnishment. to f SR C

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But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only 1 bk R C

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on the principles of policy and necéssity, but also on those of mo

rality; “for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, “to use all

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the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am 1 B C

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astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confèssed; to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country!

My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your attèntion; but I cannot repress my indignation; — I feel myself impelled

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to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, fRO SRO as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity!—

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That God and nature | have put into our hands! What ideas of

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God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not; but I

know that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to re

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lígion and humànity.

Whát! to attribute the sacred sanction of

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God and nature to the massacres of the Indian | scalping-knife! SRO wtr C F to waist w C to s C w tr C to the cannibal sávage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking

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the blood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every precept

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to

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of morálity, every feeling of humánity, every sentiment of honor!

These abominable principles, and this more abominable avówal of

I call upon that right réverend, and this most learned bénch, to

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vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their

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country. I call upon the bìshops to interpose the unsullied sanctity

of their lawn,-upon the judges, to interpose the purity of their

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ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of

your lordships, to rèverence | the dignity | of your ancestors, and to

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maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my coun

try, to vindicate the national character. I call upon your lordships, B Ctr W to m f B C prone

and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this in

famous procedure | the indelible | stigma of the public | abhorrence. | |

6. CONSEQUENCES OF THE AMERICAN WAR.-Earl of Chatham.

This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is no time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot save us, in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne, in the language of Truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can minis

ters still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to be thus deluded into the loss of the one, and the violation of the other, as to give an unlimited support to measures which have heaped disgrace and misfortune upon us; measures which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt? But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world: now, none so poor as to do her reverence! France, my Lords, has insulted you. She has encouraged and sustained America; and, whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to spurn at the officious insult of French interference. Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating disgrace? Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint a vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the state, by requiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of America? The people, whom they affected to call contemptible rebels, but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of enemies, the people with whom they have engaged this country in war, and against whom they now command our implicit support in every measure of desperate hostility,— this people, despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, are abetted against you, supplied with every military store, their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by your inveterate enemy, and our ministers dare not interpose with dignity or effect!

My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where we cannot act with success nor suffer with honor, calls upon us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which surround it. You cannot, I venture to say it, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, and strain every effort, still more