their erection, with the sable badges of sorrow. You have thus associated the memory of Lafayette in those distinguished honors which but a few years since you paid to your Adams and Jefferson. There is not, throughout the world, a friend of liberty who has not dropped his head when he has heard that Lafayette is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Ireland, the South American republics every country where man is struggling to recover his birthright,- have lost a benefactor, a patron in Lafayette. And what was it, fellow-citizens, which gave to our Lafayette his spotless fame? The love of liberty. What has consecrated his memory in the hearts of good men? The love of liberty. What nerved his youthful arm with strength, and inspired him, in the morning of his days, with sagacity and counsel? The living love of liberty. To what did he sacrifice power, and rank, and country, and freedom itself? To the suppression of licentiousness,— to the sanctity of plighted faith,- to the love of liberty protected by law. Thus the great principle of your Revolutionary fathers, and of your Pilgrim sires, was the rule of his life-the love of liberty protected by law.

You have now assembled within these celebrated walls to perform the last duties of respect and love, on the birthday of your benefactor. The spirit of the departed is in high communion with the spirit of the place the temple worthy of the new name which we now behold inscribed on its walls. Listen, Americans, to the lesson which seems borne to us on the very air we breathe, while we perform these dutiful rites! Ye winds, that wafted the Pilgrims to the land of promise, fan, in their children's hearts, the love of freedom! Blood, which our fathers shed, cry from the ground! Echoing arches of this renowned hall, whisper back the voices of other days! Glorious Washington, break the long silence of that votive canvas! Speak, speak, marble lips; teach

US THE LOVE OF LIBERTY PROTECTED BY LAW.

GRATTAN'S REPLY TO MR. CORRY

Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call him to order,

why? because the limited talents of some men render it impossible for them to be severe without being unparliamentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same time.

On any other occasion I should think myself justifiable in treating with silent contempt anything which might fall from that honorable member; but there are times when the insignificance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could say which would injure me. The public would not believe the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner I shall do before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it when not made by an honest

man.

The right honorable gentleman has called me "an unimpeached traitor." I ask why not "traitor," unqualified by any epithet? I will tell him: it was because he durst not. It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counselor. I will not call him a fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of debate, by uttering language which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible his speech; whether a privy counselor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow.

He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he does, I can prove to the committee there was a physical impossibility of that report being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my conduct, whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought himself into power by a false glare of courage or not.

I have returned,- not as the right honorable member has said, to raise another storm,-I have returned to discharge an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a

great reward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that Constitution of which I was the parent and founder, from the assassination of such men as the right honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt, they are seditious, and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given to the public under the appellation of a report of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand, ready for impeachment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentleman; I defy the government; I defy their whole phalanx; let them come forth. I tell the ministers, I will neither give quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of this House, in defense of the liberties of my country.

-Henry Grattan.

EULOGY ON WENDELL PHILLIPS

In every strain of affectionate and discriminating admiration, the legislature, the pulpit and the press have spoken the praise of Wendell Phillips.

Sprung from the best New England parentage, at the age of sixteen he entered Harvard College. His classmates recall his manly pride and reserve, with the delightful conversation, the charming manner, and the affluence of kindly humor that was never lost. He sauntered and gently studied, not a devoted student, nor in the bent of his mind, nor in the special direction of sympathy, forecasting the reformer, but already the orator, and the easy master of the college platform.

After graduation he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and began practice in Boston. As he was sitting in his office one October afternoon waiting for his first client, the sound of unusual disturbance drew him to the street. There, within stone's throw of the scene of the Boston massacre, under the very shadow of Old South Church, he beheld a scene such as we of to-day can scarcely conceive - American women insulted for befriending their innocent sisters whose children were sold from their arms, and an American citizen assailed by a furious mob for maintaining that a man's right to liberty was inherent and in

lienable. It was enough! As the jail doors closed upon Garrison to save his life, Garrison and his cause had won their most powerful ally. With the setting of that October sun vanished forever the career of prosperous ease which the genius and accomplishments of Phillips had seemed to foretell. His long-awaited client had come at last scorned, scarred, wronged, degraded, and forsaken humanity.

When, two years later, at Alton, Illinois, Lovejoy was lynched for defending the right of innocent men and women to their personal freedom, it was with difficulty that Faneuil Hall was secured for a mass-meeting to denounce the appalling outrage; but when, in that meeting, after words of seemly protest had been uttered, a voice was heard, the voice of the high officer solemnly sworn to uphold the majesty of the law, declaring, in Faneuil Hall, amid a storm of howling applause, that an American put to death by a raging mob while defending his right of free speech died as the fool dieth, the Boston boy, all on fire, with Concord and Lexington tugging at his heart, unconsciously murmured, Such a speech in Faneuil Hall must be answered in Faneuil Hall." "Why not answer it yourself?" whispered a neighbor. "Help me to the platform and I will," he answered; and pushing and struggling through the dense and threatening crowd, he reached the platform, was lifted upon it, and advancing to speak, was greeted with a roar of hostile cries. But riding the whirlwind undismayed, as for many years thereafter he directed the same wild storm, he stood upon the platform in all the grace and beauty of imperial youth the Greeks would have said, a God descended, and in words which touched the mind and heart and conscience as with fire from heaven, recalling Boston to herself, he saved his native city and her cradle of liberty from the damning disgrace of stoning the first martyr in the great struggle for personal freedom. "Mr. Chairman," he said, "when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which placed the rioters, incendiaries, and murderers of Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock and Quincy and Adams, I thought those pictured lips would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American, the slanderer of the dead."

In all the annals of American speech there had been heard no such speech since Patrick Henry's electrical warning to George the Third. It was the greatest of oratorical triumphs when a

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supreme emotion, a sentiment which is to mould a people anew, lifts the orator to adequate expression. It transmitted, unextinguished, the torch of an eloquence that has roused nations, and changed the whole course of history. The mighty struggle indeed inspired universal eloquence; but, supreme over it all, was the eloquence of Phillips, as over the harmonious tumult of an orchestra, one clear voice, like a lark high poised in air, carries the melody.

He faced his audience with a tranquil mien, and a beaming aspect that was never dimmed. He spoke, and in the measured cadences of his quiet voice there was intense feeling, but no declamation, no passionate appeal, no superficial and feigned emotion; it was simply colloquy, a gentleman conversing. Unconsciously, yet surely, the ear and heart were charmed. How was it done? Ah! how did Mozart do it? How Raphael? The secret of the rose's sweetness, the bird's ecstasy, the sunset's glory this is the secret of genius and eloquence. What was seen, what was heard, was the form of noble manhood, the courteous and self-possessed tone, the flow of modulated and musical speech, sparkling with matchless richness of illustration, happy anecdote and historic parallel; with wit and pitiless invective, with stinging satire, with melodious pathos, with crackling epigram and limpid humor, like the bright ripples that play about the sure and steady prow of the resistless ship. The divine energy of his conviction utterly possessed him.

But he never flattered the mob, nor hung upon its neck, nor pandered to its passion, nor suffered its foaming hate or its exulting enthusiasm to touch the calm poise of his regnant soul. Those who were eager to insult and silence him when he pleaded for the negro, wept and shouted and rapturously crowned him when he paid homage to O'Connell. But the crowd did not follow him with huzzas. He moved in solitary majesty. And if, from his smooth speech, a lightning flash of satire or scorn struck a cherished lie, or an honored character, or a dogma of the party creed, and the crowd burst into a storm of furious dissent, he beat it into silence with uncompromising iteration. If it tried to drown his voice, he turned to the reporters and calmly said, "Howl on, I speak to thirty millions here."

Among her noblest sons his native city will ever cherish him, and gratefully recall the unbending Puritan soul that dwelt in a