672. MILITARY DESPOTISM AND INSUBORDINATION. Mr. Chairman,-I trust, that I shall be indulged, with some few reflections, upon the danger of permitting the conduct, on which it has been my painful duty to animadvert, to pass, without a solemn expression of the disapprobation of this house. Recall to your recollection, sir, the free nations, which have gone before us." Where are they now? "Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were; A schoolboy's tale,-the wonder of an hour." And how have they lost their liberties? If we could transport ourselves back, sir, to the ages when Greece, and Rome, flourished, in their greatest prosperity, and, mingling in the throng, should ask a Grecian, if he did not fear, that some daring military chieftain, covered with glory, some Philip, or Alexander, would one day overthrow the liberties of his country, the confident, and indignant Grecian would exclaim, No! no! we have nothing to fear from our heroes; our liberties will be eternal. If a Roman citizen had been asked, if he did not fear, that the conqueror of Gaul might establish a throne upon the ruins of public liberty, he would have instantly repelled the unjust insinuation. Yet, Greece-has fallen; Cesar--has passed the rubicon; and the patriotic arm even of Brutus-could not preserve the liberties of his devoted country. Sir, we are fighting a great moral battle for the benefit, not only of our country, but of all mankind. The eyes of the whole world are in fixed attention upon us. One, and the largest portion of it, is gazing with jealousy, and with envy; the other portion, with hope, with confidence, and with affection. Every where the black cloud of legitimacy is suspended over the world, save only one bright spot, which breaks out from the political hemisphere of the west, to enlighten, and animate, and gladden the human heart. Obscure that, by the downfall of liberty here, and all mankind-are enshrouded-in a pall of universal darkness. Beware, then, sir, how you give a fatal sanction, in this infant period of our republic, to military insubordination. Remember, that Greece-had her Alexander, Rome her Cesar, England-her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and, that if we would escape the rock, on which they split, we must avoid their errors. -- I hope, sir, that gentlemen will deliberately survey the awful isthmus, on which we stand. They may bear down all opposition. They may even vote general Jackson the public thanks. They may carry him triumphantly through this house. But, if they do, sir, in my humble judgment, it will be a triumph of the principle of insubordination-a triumph of the military-over the civil authority-a triumph over the powers of this house--a triumph over the constitution of the land; and I pray, sir, most devoutly, that it may not prove, in its ultimate effects and consequences, a triumph over the liberties of the people. THE EARTH HAS BEEN ALL ALIVE. What is the world itself? thy world?-a grave! 673. THE FRENCHMAN AND HIS HOST. A Frenchman once, who was a merry wight, Passing to town from Dover in the night, Near the roadside an ale-house chanced to spy: And being rather tired as well as dry, Resolved to enter; but first he took a peep, In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. He enters: "Hallo! Garcon, if you please, Bring me a little bit of bread and cheese. And hallo! Garcon, a pot of porter too!" he said, "Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed." [left, His supper done, some scraps of cheese were Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, Into his pocket put; then slowly crept To wished-for bed; but not a wink he sleptFor, on the floor, some sacks of flour were laid, To which the rats a nightly visit paid. Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, Put on his cap and bade the world good-night; But first his breeches, which contained the fare, Under his pillow he had placed with care. Sans ceremonie, soon the rats all ran, And on the flour-sacks greedily began; [round, Vat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at?" 199 In vain our little hero sought repose; Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose; And such the pranks they kept up all the night, That he, on end antipodes upright, Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. "Hallo! Maison! Garcon, I say! Bring me the bill for vat I have to pay The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, Ten shillings was the charge, he scarce believes With eager haste, he runs it o'er, [his eyes: And every time he viewed it thought it more. "Vy zounds, and zounds!" he cries, "I sall no pay; Vat charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange? A leetal sup of porter, dis vile bed, Vare all de rats do run about my head?" "Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out; "I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em scout: I'll pay him well that can." "Vat's dat you say?" "I'll pay him well that can." "Attend to me, I [pray : Vil you dis charge forego, vat I am at, And den invite de rats to sup vid you: 674. Loss OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. The loss of a firm, national character, or the degradation of a nation's honor, is the inevitable prelude to her destruction. Behold the once proud fabric of the Roman empire; an empire, carrying its arts, and arms, into every part of the eastern continent; the monarchs of mighty kingdoms, dragged at the wheels of her triumphal chariots; her eagle, waving over the ruins of desolated countries. Where is her splendor, her wealth, her power, her glory? Extinguished-forever. Her moldering temples, the mournful vestiges of her former grandeur, afford a shelter to her muttering monks. Where are her statesmen, her sages, her philosophers, her orators, her generals? Go to their solitary tombs, and inquire. She lost her national character, and her destruction followed. The ramparts of her national pride were broken down, and Vandalism desolated her classic fields. Citizens will lose their respect and confidence, in our government, if it does not extend over them, the shield of an honorable, national character. Corruption will creep in, and sharpen party animosity. Ambitious leaders will seize upon the favorable moment. The mad enthusiasm for revolution-will call into action the irritated spirit of our nation, and civil war must follow. The swords of our countrymen may yet glitter on our mountains, their blood may yet crimson our plains. 675. GOOD-NIGHT. To whom, I feel, or hate, or spite, Yet, let me hope, one faithful friend, RESPECT TO OLD AGE. It happened at Athens, during a public representation of Such, the warning voice of all antiquity, the wealth, that an old gentleman came too late, some play, exhibited in honor of the commonexample of all republics proclaim-may be for a place suitable to his age, and quality. our fate. But let us no longer indulge these Many of the young gentlemen, who observed gloomy anticipations. The commencement the difficulty and confusion he was in, made of our liberty presages the dawn of a brighter signs to him, that they would accommodate period to the world. That bold, enterprising him, if he came where they sat. The good spirit, which conducted our heroes to peace, man bustled through the crowd accordingly; and safety, and gave us a lofty rank, amid but when he came to the seat, to which he the empires of the world, still_animates the bosoms of their descendants. Look back to pose him, as he stood out of countenance, to was invited, the jest was, to sit close, and exthe moment, when they unbarred the dun- the whole audience. The frolic went round geons of the slave, and dashed his fetters all the Athenian benches. But, on those octo the earth, when the sword of a Washing-casions, there were also particular places reton leaped from its scabbard, to revenge the served for foreigners. When the good man slaughter of our countrymen. Place their skulked towards the boxes, appointed for the example before you. Let the sparks of Lacedemonians, that honest people, more vir minds, and the sacred altars of your liber- with the greatest respect, received him among your tuous than polite, rose up all to a man, and ty, crowned with immortal honors, rise be- them. The Athenians, being suddenly touchfore you. Relying on the virtue, the cour-ed with a sense of the Spartan virtue, and age, the patriotism, and the strength of our country, we may expect our national character will become more energetic, our citizens more enlightened, and may hail the age as not far distant, when will be heard, as the proudest exclamation of man: I am an their veteran wisdom flash across American.-Maxcy. [flood? The bell strikes one: We take no note of time, their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of applause; and the old man cried out, “the Athenians understand what is good, but the Lacedemonians practice it. FORTUNE-TELLER. A hungry, lean-fac'd villain, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune teller ; RECREATION. 676. THE GROVES: GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES. The groves-were God's first temples. Ere man To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, [learned And spread the roof above them,-ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather, and roll back, The sound of anthems,-in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered, to the Mightiest, solemn thanks, And supplication. For his simple heart Might not resist the sacred influences, That, from the stilly twilight of the place, And from the gray old trunks, that, high in heav'n, Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Of the invisible breath, that swayed, at once, All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit-with the thought of boundless Power, And inaccessible Majesty. Ah! why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore, Only, among the crowd, and under roofs, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, My heart-is awed within me, when I think Lo! all grow old, and die: but see, again, The freshness of her far beginning lies, That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Of his arch enemy-Death; yea, seats himself Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn; thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in his ear. Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns; thou Upon the sepulchre, and blooms, and smiles, There have heen holy men, who hid themselves O God! when thou Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The heavens, with falling thunderbolts, or fill, With all the waters of the firrnament, The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods, And drowns the villages; when, at thy call, Uprises the great deep. and throws himself Upon the continent, and overwhelms Its cities;-who forgets not, at the sight Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, His pride, and lays his strifes, and follies by! Oh! from the sterner aspects of thy face Spare me, and mine; nor let us need the wrath Of the mad, unchained elements, to teach Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate, In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, And to the beautiful order of thy works, Learn to conform the order of our lives.-Bryant. Naturally, men are prone to spin themselves a web of opinions out of their own brain, and to have a religion that may be called their own. Men are far readier to make themselves a faith, than to receive that which God hath formed to their hands, and they are far readier to receive a doctrine that tends to their carnal commodity, or honor, or delights, than one that tends to self-denial. Like dogs in a wheel, birds in a cage, or squirrels in a chain, ambitious men still climb and climb, with great labor, and incessant anxiety, but never reach the top. Let parents beware of too much restriction in the management of their darling boy. Let him, in choosing his play, follow the suggestions of nature. Let them not be discomposed at the sight of his sand-hills in the road, his snow-forts in February, and his mud-dams in April; nor when they chance to look out in the midst of an August shower, and see him wading and sailing, and sporting along with the water-fowl. If they would make him hardy and fearless, they must let him go abroad as often as he pleases, in his early boyhood, and amuse himself by the hour together, in smoothing and twirling the hoary locks of winter. Instead of keeping him shut up all day with a stove, and graduating his sleeping-room by Fahrenheit, they must let him face the keen edge of a north-wind, when the mercury is below cipher; and, instead of minding a little shivering, and complaining, when he returns, cheer up his spirits, and send him out again. In this way, they will teach him, that he was not born to live in the nursery, nor to brood over the fire; but to range abroad, as free as the snow, and the air, and to gain warmth from exercise. Tossed his beamed frontlet-to the sky; 677. PHYSICAL EDUCATION. That is, undoubtedly, the wisest, and best regimen, which takes the infant from the cradle, and conducts him along, through childhood, and youth, up to high maturity, in such a manner, as to give strength to his arm, swiftness to his feet, solidity and amplitude to his muscles, symmetry to his frame, and expansion to his vital energies. It is obvious, that this branch of education comprehends, not only food and clothing, but air, exercise, lodging, early rising, and whatever else is requisite, to the full development of the physical constitution. "Tis not enough-the voice be sound, and cleɛr, The diet must be simple, the apparel must "Tis modulation, that must charm the ear. not be too warm, nor the bed too soft. When desperate heroes grieve, with tedious moan, And whine their sorrows, in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds-of unimpassioned woes, Can only make the yawning hearers--doze. The voice-all modes of passion can express, That marks the proper word, with proper stress: But none emphatic--can that speaker call, Who lays an equal emphasis—on all. Some, o'er the tongue-the labored measures roll, Slow, and deliberate-as the parting toll; Point every stop, mark every pause so strong, Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. All affectation-but creates disgust; And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just. In vain, for them, the pleasing measure flows, Whose recitation-runs it all to prose; Repeating-what the poet sets not down, The verse disjointing-from its favorite noun, and break, and repetition join To make a discord-in each tuneful line. With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene ; Some placid natures-fill the allotted scene While others-thunder every couplet o'er, And almost crack your ears-with rant, and roar More nature, oft, and finer strokes are shown, In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone; And Hamlet's hollow voice, and fixed amaze, More powerful terror-to the mind conveys, Than he, who, swollen with impetuous rage, Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage. He, who, in earnest, studies o'er his part, Will find true nature-cling about his heart. The modes of grief--are not included allIn the white handkerchief, and mournful drawl; A single look-more marks the internal woe, Than all the windings of the lengthened-Oh! Up to the face-the quick sensation flies, And darts its meaning-from the speaking eyes: Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, And all the passions, all the soul is there. I love, and admire the youth, who turns not back from the howling wintry blast, nor withers under the blaze of summer; who never magnifies "mole-hills into mountains;" but whose daring eye, exulting, scales the eagle's airy crag, and who is ready to undertake anything, that is prudent, and lawful, within the range of possibility. Who would think of planting the mountain-oak-in a green-house? or of rearing the cedar of Lebanon-in a lady's flower-pot? Who does not know that, in order to attain their mighty strength, and majestic forms, they must freely enjoy the rain, and the sunshine, and must feel the rocking of the tempest? THE CHASE. The stag, at eve, had drunk his fill, While pause, NATURE'S WANTS ARE FEW. 679. A CURE FOR HARD TIMES. We are too fond of showing out in our families; and, in this way, our expenses far exceed our incomes. Our daughters-must be dressed off in their silks and crapes, instead of their linsey-woolsey. Our young folks--are too proud to be seen in a coarse dress, and their extravagance is bringing ruin on our families. When you can induce your sons to prefer young women, for their real worth, rather than for their show; when you can get them to choose a wife, who can make a good loaf of bread, and a good pound of butter, in preference to a girl, who does nothing but dance about in her silks, and her laces; then, gentlemen, you may expect to see a change for the better. We must get back to the good old simplicity of former times, if we expect to see more prosperous days. The time was, even since memory, when a simple note was good for any amount of money, but now bonds and mortgages are thought almost no security; and this owing to the want of confidence. And what has caused this want of confidence? Why, it is occasioned by the extravagant manner of living; by your families going in debt beyond your ability to pay. Examine this matter, gentlemen, and you will find this to be the real cause. Teach your sons to be too proud to ride a hackney, which their father cannot pay for. Let them be above being seen sporting in a gig, or a carriage, which their father is in debt for. Let them have this sort of independent pride, and I venture to say, that you will soon perceive a reformation. But, until the change commences in this way in our families; until we begin the work ourselves, it is in vain to expect better times. Now, gentlemen, if you think as I do on this subject, there is a way of showing that you do think so, and but one way; when you return to your homes, have independence enough to put these principles in practice; and I am sure you will not be disappointed. 680. THE FIRE-SIDE. Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd, Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside, Where love our hours employs; And they are fools, who roam: Tho' fools--spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours, By sweet experience know, That marriage, rightly understood, Gives to the tender, and the good, A paradise below. Our babes, shall richest comfort bring; If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring Whence pleasures ever rise: And train them for the skies. While they our wisest hours engage, And recompense our cares. No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, And bless our humbler lot. Our portion is not large, indeed! For nature's calls are few: We'll therefore relish, with content. Nor aim beyond our pow'r ; Nor lose the present hour. And pleas'd, with favors giv'n: Whose fragrance-smells to heav'n. Thus, hand in hand, thro' life we'll go; With cautious steps, we'll tread; And mingle with the dead. And smooth the bed of death.-Cotion. Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendor crown'd; Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale; Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale For me your tributary stores combine: Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine. |