interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary character — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life, in the midst of a revolution that quickened every energy of a people who acknowl edge no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity! With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed in the list where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fled from him as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest - he acknowledged no criterion but success — he worshiped no God but ambition, and with an eastern devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not profess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he bowed before the cross: the orphan of St. Louis, he became the adopted child of the republic and with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both. of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the pope; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the Cæsars!

PHILLIPS.

A CALL TO LIBERTY.

NONE but they, who set a just value upon the blessings of liberty, are worthy to enjoy her. Your illustrious fathers were her zealous votaries - when the blasting frowns of tyranny drove her from public view, they clasped her in their arms; they cherished her in their generous bosoms; they brought her safe over the rough ocean, and fixed her seat in this then dreary wilderness they nursed her infant age with the most tender care; for her sake, they patiently bore the severest hardships; for her support, they underwent the most rugged toils; in her defense, they boldly encountered the most alarming dangers. Neither the ravenous beasts that ranged the woods for prey, nor the more furious savages of the wilderness, could damp their ardor! Whilst with one hand they broke the stubborn glebe, with the other they grasped their weapons, ever ready to protect her from danger. No sacrifice, not even their own blood, was esteemed too rich a libation for her altar! God prospered their valor; they preserved her brilliancy unsullied; they enjoyed her whilst

they lived, and dying, bequeathed the dear inheritance to your care. And as they left you this glorious legacy, they have undoubtedly transmitted to you some portion of their noble spirit, to inspire you with virtue to merit her, and courage to preserve her. You surely cannot, with such examples before your eyes as every page of the history of this country affords, suffer your liberties to be ravished from you by lawless force, or cajcled away by flattery and fraud.

The voice of your fathers' blood calls to you from the ground My sons, scorn to be slaves! In vain we met the frowns of tyrants-in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of liberty — in vain we toiled-in vain we fought- we bled in vain, if you, our offspring, want valor to repel the assaults of her invaders! Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors, but, like them, resolve never to part with your birthright; be wise in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the preservation of your liberties.

WARREN.

THE SPEECH OF LOGAN THE INDIAN CHIEF

My cabin, since I had one of my own, has ever been open to any white man who wanted shelter. My spoils of hunting, since first I began to range these woods, have I ever imparted to appease his hunger, to clothe his nakedness. But what have I seen? What!-but that at my return at night, laden with spoil, my numerous family lie bleeding on the ground by the hand of those who had found my little hut a certain refuge from the storm, who had eaten my food, who had covered themselves with skins. What have I seen? my What! - but that those dear little mouths for which I had all day toiled, when I returned to fill them, bad not one word to thank me for all that toil.

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What could I resolve upon? My blood boiled within me. My heart leaped to my mouth! Nevertheless I bid my tomahawk be quiet and lie at rest for that war, because I thought the great men of your country sent them not to do it. Not long after, some of your men invited our tribe to cross the river and bring their venison with them. They came as they had been invited. The white men made them drunk, murdered them, and turned their knives even against the women. Was not my own sister among them? Was she not scalped by the hands of the very man whom she had taught to escape his enemies, when

they were scenting out his track?

What could I resolve upon. My blood boiled thrice hotter than before. Thrice again my heart leaped to my mouth. I bade no longer my tomahawk be quiet and rest for that war.

"I sprang from my cabin to avenge their blood, and fully have I done it in this war, by shedding yours, from your coldest to your hottest sun. I am now for peaceto peace have I advised most of my countrymen. Nay, what is more, I have offered, I will offer myself a victim, being ready to die if their good requires it. Think not that I fear death. I have no relatives left to mourn for me. Logan's blood runs in no veins but these. I would not turn on my heel to save my life; and why should I? For I have neither wife nor child nor sister to howl

for me when I am gone.”

Gone is the mighty warrior, the terrible avenger, the heartbursting orator. Gone is the terror and glory of his nation; and gone forever from our elder states, are the red men, who, like Saul and Jonathan, were "swifter than eagles, and stronger than lions," and who with the light and advantages which we enjoy, might have rivaled us in wealth and power in the senate and forum, as I am sure that they would have surpassed us in magnanimity and justice.

HUMPHREY.

THE WRONGS OF THE INDIAN RACE.

1F the Indians had the vices of savage life, they had the vi tues also. They were true to their country, their friends, and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity and generosity were unconquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stopped not on this side of the grave. But where are they? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth? The sachems and the tribes ? The hunters and their families? They have perished. They are consumed. The wasting pestilence has not alone done the mighty work. No, nor famine, nor war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, which hath eaten into their heart-cores - a plague which the touch of the white man communicated - -a poison, which betrayed them into a lingering ruin. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region which they may now call their own. Already the last feeble remnants of the race are preparing for their journey beyond the Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes

the aged, the helpless, t. women, and the warriors, “few and faint, yet fearless still." The ashes are cold on their native hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is upon their heels, for terror or dispatch; but they heed him not. They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They shed no tears; they utter no cries; they heave no groans. There is something in their hearts which passes speech. There is something in their looks, not of vengeance or submission; but of hard necessity, which stifles both; which choaks all utterance; which has no aim or method. It is courage absorbed in despair. They linger but for a moment. Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal stream. It shall never be repassed by them, — no, never. Yet there lies not between us and them an impassable gulf. They know, and feel, that there is for them still one remove farther, not distant, nor unseen. It is the general burialground of their race.

STORY.

AMES' SPEECH ON THE BRITISH TREATY.

If I could find

On this theme my emotions are unutterable. words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to my zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remonstrance, it should reach every log-house beyond the mountains. I would say to the inhabitants, wake from your false security. Your cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions, are soon to be renewed. The wounds yet unhealed are to be torn open again. In the day-time, your path through the woods will be ambushed. The darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of

ings. You are a father- the blood of your sons shall fatten your corn-field. You are a mother-the war-whoop shall wake the sleep of the cradle.

On this subject you need not suspect any deception on you If you have nature in your hearts, they will speak a language feelings. It is a spectacle of horror which cannot be overdrawn. Compared with which all I have said or can say will be poor and frigid.

Who will accuse me of wandering out of the subject? Who will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our measures? Will

my one answer by a sneer, that all this is idle preaching? any one deny that we are bound, and I would hope to

Would

good purpose, by the most solemn sanctions of duty for the vote we give? Are despots alone to be reproached for unfeeling indifference to the tears and blood of their subjects? Are republicans unresponsible? Have the principles on which you ground the reproach upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no binding force? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, introduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, or to furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows of that state house! I trust it is neither too presumptuous nor too late to ask, Can you put the dearest interest of society at risk, without guilt and without remorse?

By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we bind the victims. This day we undertake to render account to the widows and orphans whom our decision will make, to the wretches that will be roasted at the stake, to our country, and I do not deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God. We are answerable; and if duty be anything more than a word of imposture, if conscience be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make ourselves as wretched as our country.

THE RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA.

"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