600. SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS ON ADOPTING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. It is true, indeed, that in the beginning, we ained not at independence. But there's a Divinity, which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good, she has obstinately persisted. till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the declaration? Is any man so weak, as now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave either safety to the country, and its liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory? If we fail, it can be no worse for us.-But we shall not fail. The cause will raise up armies; the cause will create navies. The people, if we are true to them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been found. I know the people of these colonies; and I know, that resistance to British aggression is deep and settled in their hearts, and cannot be eradicated. Every colony, indeed, has expressed its willingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the breath of life. Read this declaration at the head of the army; every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow u Are not you, sir, who sit in that chair; is not he, our venerable colleague near you; are you not Doth, already, the proscribed, and predestined objects of punishment, and of vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws? If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to give up the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures of parlia-tered, to maintain it or to perish on the bed of honor. Faent, Boston port-bill and all? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust? Publish it from the pulpit; religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let them I know we do not mean to submit. We never hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's shall submit. Do we intend to violate that most cannon; let them see it, who saw their brothers solemn obligation, ever entered into by men, that and their sons fall on the field of Bunker-Hill, and plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Wash-in the streets of Lexington and Concord,-and the ington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extremity, with our fortunes, and our lives? I know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith to fall to the ground. For myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you, that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces, raised, or to be raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate, or waver in the support I give him. very walls will cry out in its support. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs; but I see clearly, through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to the time, when this declaration shall be made good. We may die; die, colonists; die, slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven, that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready, at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But, whatever may be our fate, be assured that this declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick The war, then, must go on. We must fight it gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the through. And, if the war must go on, why put off future as the sun in heaven. We shall make this longer, the declaration of independence? That a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in measure will strengthen us. It will give us char- our graves, our children will honor it. They will acter abroad. The nations will then treat with us; celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with which they never can do, while we acknowledge bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return, ourselves subjects, in arms against our sovereign. they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of Nay, I maintain, that England herself will sooner subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, treat for peace with us, on the footing of indepen- but of exultation. of gratitude, and of joy. Sir, bedence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to ac-fore God I believe the hour is come. My judgment knowledge that her whole conduct toward us, has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded, by submitting to that course of things, which now predestinates our independence, than by yielding the points in controversy to her rebellious subjects. The former she would regard as the result of fortune; the latter she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil to a national war? And, since we must fight it though, why not put ourselves in approves this measure, and my whole heart is in Be not dismayed-fear-nurses up a danger; 601. THE EFFECTS OF GENTLENESS. 602. PRESS ON. This is a speech, briet, Gentleness-is the great avenue to mutual but full of inspiration, and opening the way enjoyment. Amidst the strife of interfering to all victory. The mystery of Napoleon's interests, it tempers the violence of conten-career was this,--under all difficulties and tion, and keeps alive the seeds of harmony. discouragements, "PRESS ON!" It solves the It softens animosities, renews endearments, problem of all heroes; it is the rule, by which and renders the countenance of man, a re- to weigh rightly, all wonderful successes, and freshment to man. Banish gentleness from triumphal marches-to fortune and genius. the earth; suppose the world to be filled, It should be the motto of all, old--and young, with none but harsh and contentious spirits, high-and low, fortunate-and unfortunate, and what sort of society would remain the so called. solitude of the desert were preferable to it. The conflict of jarring elements in chaos, the cave where subterraneous winds contend and roar, the den where serpents hiss and beasts of the forest howl, would be the only proper representation of such assemblies of men. Strange! that, where men have all one common interest, they should so often concur in defeating it. Has not nature already provided a suflicient quantity of evils for the state of man? As if we did not sufler enough from the storm which beats upon us without, must we conspire also, in those societies where we assemble, in order to find a retreat from that storm, to harass one another! A NIGHT SCENE IN TURKEY. "Twas midnight: on the mountains brown Such as, when winds, and harp-strings meet; It seemed to those, within the wall, A cry-prophetic of their fall; Wakes, though but for a stranger's knell. "PRESS ON!" Never despair; never be discouraged, however stormy the heavens, how ever dark the way; however great the diffi culties, and repeated the failures, —“ PRESS ON!" If fortune-has played false with thee to-day, do thou play true for thyself to-morrow. If thy riches have taken wings, and left thee, do not weep thy life away; but be up and doing, and retrieve the loss, by new energies and action. If an unfortunate bargain-has deranged thy business, do not fold thy arms, and give up all as lost; but stir thyself, and work the more vigorously. If those whom thou hast trusted, have be trayed thee, do not be discouraged, do not idly weep, but "PRESS ON!" find others; or, what is better, learn to live within thyself. Let the foolishness of yesterday-make thee wise to-day. If thy allections-have been poured out like water in the desert, do not sit down and perish of thirst,-but press on; a beautiful oasis is before thee, and thou mayst reach it, if thou wilt. If another-has been false to thee, do not thou increase the evil-by being false to thyself. Do not say—the world hath lost its poetry and beauty; 'tis not so; and even if it be so, make thine own poetry and beauty, by a brave, a true, and. abov all, a religious life. ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. Higher, higher, will we climb, Up-the mount of glory, That our rames-may live through time, In the mines of knowledge; Excellence, true beauty; Closer, closer--let us knit 603 HANNIBAL TO HIS SOLDIERS. On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of courage and strength; a veteran infantry, a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, most faithful and valiant; you, Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause, but the justest anger, impels to battle. The hope, the courage of assailants, is always greater than of those, who act upon the defensive. With hostile banners displayed, you are come down upon Italy; you bring the war. Grief, injuries, indignities, fire your minds, and spur You forward to revenge. The vulture-flapped his sail-like wines, though heavily he dew¡ First, they demand me-that I, your gener-Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a gh; al, should be delivered up to them; next, all And as I journeyel, the next morn, along my sunny way, of you, who had fought at the siege of Sagun- The precipice was shown to me, whereon the injant lay.—Anon tum; and we were to be put to death-by the 605. THE HERMIT. extremest tortures. Proud, and cruel nation! every thing must be yours, and at your disposal! You are to prescribe to us, with whom we shall make war, with whom we shall make peace! You are to set us bounds; to shut us up within hills and rivers; but you-you are not to observe the limits, which yourselves have fixed. Touch Pass not the Iberus! What next? Dot the Saguntines; is Saguntum upon the Iberus! move not a step towards that city. Is it a small matter, then, that you have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sardinia! you would have Spain, too! Well, we shall yield Spain; and then-you will pass into Africa! Will pass, did I say? this very year, they ordered one of their consuls into Afeca, the other into Spain. No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us, but what we can vindicate with our swords. Come on, then-be men. The Romans-may with more safety be cowards; they have their own country behind them; have places of refuge to ilee to, and are secure from danger in the roads thither; but for you, there is no middle fortune between death, and victory. Let this be but well fixed in your minds, and once again, I say, you are conquerors.--Livy. 604. VULTURE AND CAPTIVE INFANT. I've been among the mighty Alps, aul wanderel thro' their valer, more. And there, 1, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear, & tale-16 rend a mortal heart, which mothers-might not hear: The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice-was tremulous; But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus: It is among these Larren cliff-the ravenous vulture dwells, I burriel out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with fright, At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mouru; The moon, half extinguish'd, her crescent displays. But lately I mark'd, when, majestic ou high, She shone, and the plane's were lost, in her Maze, Roll on, thou fair ort, and, with gla Iness, pursue The path, that conducts thee to splendor again: But man's faded glory, what change shall renew! Ah fool to exult in a glory so vain! Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind nature the embryo blossom will save: O pity, great Father of light, then I cried, So breaks on the traveler, faint and astray, The bright, and the balmy effulgence of morn On the cold cheek of death smiles, and roses are blending, Of light-or gods to journey by. In struggling with misfortunes, 606. THE CHARACTER OF WOMAN. The influence of the female character-is now felt, and acknowledged, in all the relations of life. I speak not now, of those distinguished women, who instruct their age through the public press. Nor of those, whose devout strains we take upon our lips, when we worship. But of a much larger class; of those, whose influence is felt in the relations of neighbor, friend, daughter, wife, mother. Who waits at the couch of the sick, to administer tender charities, while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness, when death comes? Where shall we look for those examples of friendship, that most adorn our rature; those abiding friendships, which trust, even when betrayed, and survive all changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustration of filial piety? Have you ever seen a daughter, herself, perhaps, timid and helpless, watching the decline of an ared parent, and holding out, with heroic fortitude, to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps to the very borders of the grave? But in no relation-does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immediately, and prospectively, as in that of mother. To her is committed the immortal treasure of the infant mind. Upon her-devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline, which is to form a being, perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of his great Creator. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections, that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes, and expands-the earliest germs of our intellects. She breathes over us her deepest devotions. She lifts our little hands, and teaches our little tongues to lisp in prayer. She watches over us, like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares, and her anxieties, on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us, and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth. What constitutes the centre of every home? Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sick with disappointments? Where shall the truant and forgetful husband go-for sympathy, unalloyed, and without design, but to the bosom of her who is ever ready, and waiting to share in his adversity, or prosperity? And if there be a tribunal, where the sins and the follies of a froward child-may hope for pardon and forgiveness, this side heaven, that ibunal-is the heart of a fond, and devoted mother. Finally, her influence is felt, deeply, in religion. "If christianity, should be compelled to flee from the mansions of the great, the academies of philosophers, the halls of legislators, or the throng of busy men, we should find her last. and purest retreat--with woman at the fireside; her last altar-would be the female heart; her last audience would be the children gathered round the knees of the mother; her last sacrifice, the secret prayer, escaping in silence from her lips, and heard, perhaps, only at the throne of God." How empty, learning, and how vain is art; Save where it guides the life, and mends the heart. Fancy and pride reach things at vast expense. INDIAN NAMES. "How can the red men be forgotten, while s may of our sta and territories, bays, lakes, and rivers, are indelibly stamped by names of their giving " Ye say they all have pass'd away, That noble race-and brave; That, 'mid the forests-where they roam ( That cluster'd o'er the vale, Old Massachusetts-wears it- Amid his young renown: And Alleghany-graves its tone- IMPROVEMENT OF MIND WITHOUT D19PLAY. Well-informed persons will easily be discovered, to have read the best books, tho' they are not always detailing lists of authors: for a muster-roll of names--may be learned from the catalogue, as well as from the library. The honey--owes its exquisite taste--to the fragrance of the sweetest flowers; yet the skill of the little artificer, appears in this, that the delicious stores are so adinirably worked up, and there is such a due proporcion ob served in mixing them, that the perfection of the whole--consists in its, not lasting, indi vidually, of the rose, the jassamine, the carna tion, or any of those sweets, of the very es sence of all which it is compounded. But true judgment will discover the infusion, which true modesty will not display; and even common subjects, passing through a cultivated understanding, borrow a flavor of its richness. What stronger breastplate than a heart untaint 1 607. ODE ON THE PASSIONS. Next. Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings, own'd his secret stings: With woful measures, wan Despair Low, sullen sounds! his grief beguiled; A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 'Twas sad, by fits-by starts, 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope; with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure! Still it whisper'd-promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all her song. And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft, responsive voice was heard at every close; And Hope, enchanted, smiled and wav'd her golden hair. And longer had she sang-but, with a frown, Revenge-impatient rose, [down; He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast, so loud and dread, And, ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum with furious heat. [tween, And though. sometimes, each dreary pause beDejected Pity. at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fix'd; Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd: And, now, it courted Love; now, raving, call'd on Hate. With eyes upraised, as one inspired, And, from her wild sequester'd seat, [stole; P thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul: In hollow inurmurs-died away. The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste eyed And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear But soon, he saw the brisk awakening viol, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odors-from his dewy wing 608. THE CHESTNUT HORSE. An Eaton stripling, training for the law, One happy Christmas, laid upon the shelf His cap and gown, and stores of learned pelf, "Well, Tom, the road; what saw you worth discerning? Of Locke and Bacon-antiquated fools! "Come, let's try it!" For every John pie must be a pie-John."—(pigeon.) O, what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races!" Till under a large tree Sir Peter stopt, Caught at a branch, and shook it, when down fell A fine horse chestnut, in its prickly shell. "There. Tom, take that.""Well, sir, and what basade > "Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride." "Ride: what, a chestnut, sir?"-" Of course, For I can prove that chestnut is a horse; Not from the doubtful, fusty, musty rules Of Locke and Bacon, antiquated fools, Nor old Malebranch, blind pilot into knowledge, But by the laws of wit and Eton college; That a horse-chestnut is a chestnut horse,” |