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704. THE FEMALE CHARACTER. If we glance at those domestic relations, which woman sustains, she appears in an attitude highly interesting. Is she a daughter? She has a strong hold on the parental bosom. By her kind, discreet, obedient, dutiful conduct, she contributes greatly to the happiness of those, who tenderly love her, and who are her natural guardians, and guides. Or, by the opposite conduct, she disappoints their hopes, and pierces their hearts with sorrow. Just in proportion to the superior strength, and tenderness of parental affection, is the happiness or misery resulting from the kind, or unkind deportment of a daughter.

Is she a sister? If intelligent and virtuous, she sheds the most kindly influence on the little circle of kindred spirits in which she daily moves. Is she a wife? The relation is most endearing, and its duties most important. Taken, originally, from man's heart, she is ever to be his most kind, affectionate and faithful partner. To contribute to his happiness, is always to be her first earthly care. It is hers, not merely to amuse his leisure hours, but to be his intelligent companion, friend, and counsellor; his second self; his constant and substantial helper, both as to the concerns of this life, and as to his eternal interests. She is to do him good, all the days of her life. And by so doing, to dwell in his heart. Is she a mother? It is hers, in no small degree, to form the character of the next generation. Constantly with her children, having the chief care of them in their infancy, and early childhood,--the most susceptible, the forming period of life,-to her, in an important sense, are committed the character, and the destiny-of individuals, and nations. Many of the most distinguished, and of the most excellent men, this, or any country has produced, were indebted, under God, chiefly to the exertions of their mothers, during their early childhood.

Thus viewed in her domestic relations, woman appears in a highly interesting light. So she does, when seen in other stations. See her taking an active part in various benevolent associations. There, she exerts an influence in the cause of humanity, and of religion, the most powerful, and beneficial. Like an angel of mercy on the wing, she performs her part with promptitude and compassion.

705. THE CONSTANCY OF WOMAN. Woman! Blest partnet of our joys and woes! Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows, Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill! [still, Bright o'er the wasted scene thou hoverest Angel of comfort to the failing soul; Undaunted by the tempest, wild and chill, That pours i's restless and disastrous roll (how!. O'er all that blooms below, with sad and ho low When sorro' rends the heart, when fev'rish pain Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow, To soothe the aou', to cool the burning brain, O! who so welcome and so prompt as thou! The battle's hurried scene, and angry glowThe death-ene reled pillow of distress,The lonely moments of secluded woAlike thy care and constancy confess, [less. Ake thy pitying hand and fearless friendship

706. ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 1 am monarch-of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre-all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. Oh solitude! where are the charms,

That sages-have seen in thy face} Better dwell-in the midst of alarms, Than reign-in this horrible place. I am out-of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey--alone; Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts, that roam over the plain, My form, with indifference see: They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness-is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love,

Divinely bestow'd upon man, Oh, had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again! My sorrows-then might assuage,

In the ways of religion and truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age,

And be cheer'd--by the sallies of youth. Religion what treasure untold,

Resides in that heavenly word! More precious-than silver or gold, Or all, that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell, These valleys, and rocks, never heard; Ne'er sigh'd-at the sound of a knell,

Or sm I'd, when a sabbath appear'd. Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore, Some cordial, endearing report,

Of a land, I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send, A w sh, or a thought after me } O tell me, I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-wing'd arrows of light; When I think of my own native land, In a moment, I seem to be there; But, alas recollection at hand, Soon hurri s me back to despair. But the sea-fowl-is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair; Even here-is a season of rest, And I--to my cabin repair. There's mercy--in every place:

And mercy-encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.-Cowper

BATTLE.

Now shield--with shield, with helmet,-helmet To armor-armor, lance to lane · oppos d;[clos'd, Host-against host, the shadowy squadrons drew; The sounding derts-in iron tempest flew. Victors, and vanquish'd, ja in promiscuous cries, And thrilling shouts--and dying groans arise: With streaming blood, the slipp'ry fields are dy'd, And slaughter'd heroes, swell the dreadful ide.

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707. THE STREAM OF LIFE. Life-bears | In park, in city, yea, in routs and balls, us on like the stream of a mighty river. Cur The hat was worn, and borne. Then folks grew boat, at first glides down the narrow channel, with curiosity, and whispers rose, through the play ful murmurings of the little brook, and the windings of its grassy border.

And questions passed about-how one so trim

The trees shed their blossoms over our young In coats, boots, pumps, gloves, trousers, could heads, the flowers, on the brink, seem to offer His caput--in a covering so vile. [ensconce themselves to our young hands; we are hap-A change came o'er the nature of my hatin hope, and we grasp eagerly, at the Grease-spots appeared-but still in silence, on beauties around us; but the stream hurries I wore it-and then family, and friends on, and still our hands are empty. Our course in youth, and manhood, is along Glared madly at each other. There was one, a wider, and deeper flood, and amid objects Who said—but hold-no matter what was said, more striking, and magnificent. We are ani- A time may come, when I-away-away-mated by the moving picture of enjoyment. Not till the season's ripe, can I reveal and industry, which passes before us; we Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds, are excited by some short-lived success, or Till then, the world shall not pluck out the heart depressed, and made miserable, by some of this, my mystery. When I will-I wi!!!— equally short-lived disappointment. But our energy, and our dependence are both in vain. The hat was now--greasy, and old, and tornThe stream bears us on, and our joys, and But torn-old-greasy--still I wore it on. our griefs, are alike, left behind us; we may A change came o'er the business of this hat. he shipwrecked, but we cannot anchor; our voyage may be hastened, but it cannot be de- Women, and men, and children, scowled on me; Jayed; whether rough or smooth, the river My company was shunned-I was alone! hastens towards its home, till the roaring of None would associate with such a hatthe ocean is in our ears, and the tossing of Friendship itself proved faithless, for a hat. the waves is beneath our keel: and the lands She, that I loved, with n whose gentle breast lessen from our eyes, and the floods are lifted I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death-up around us, and the earth loses sight of us. Love's fires went out-extinguished--by a hat. and we take our last leave of earth, and of its inhabitants; and of our further voyage, there Of those, that knew me best, some turned as.de is no witness, but the Infinite and the Eternal. And scudded down dark lanes--one man did place And do we still take so much anxious His finger on his nose's side, and jeeredthought for future days, when the days which Others, in horrid mockery, laughed outright; have gone by, have so strangely, and uniform-Yea, dogs, deceived by instinct's dubious ray, ly deceived us? Can we still so set our Fxing their swart glare on my ragged hat, hearts on the creatures of God, when we find by sad experience, the Creator only is permaMistook me for a beggar-and they barked. nent? Or, shall we not rather lay aside every Thus, women, men, friends, strangers, lover weight, and every sin which doth most easily One thought pervaded all-it was my hat. [dogs, beset us, and think of ourselves, henceforth, A change-it was the last-came o'er this hat as wayfaring persons only, who have no For lo! at length, the circling months went round, abiding inheritance, but in the hope of a better world, and to whom even that world The period was accomplished-and one day would be worse than hopeless, if it were not This tattered, brown, old, greasy coverture, for our Lord Jesus Christ, and the interest we (Time had endeared its vileness,) was transferr'd have obtained in his inercies. To the possession of a wandering sonOf larael's fated race-and friends once inore Greeted my digits, with the wonted squeeze: Once more I went my way-along-alongAnd plucked no wondering gaze-the hand of With its annoying finger-men, and dogs, [scorn Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless:

705. THE OLD HAT.

I had a hat-it was not all a hat-
Part of the brim was gone,-yet still, I wore
It on, and people wondered, as I passed.
Some, turned to gaze-others, just cast an eye,
And soon withdrew it, as 'twere in contempt.
But still, my hat, although so fashionless,
In complement extern, had that within,
Surpassing show-my head continued warm;
Being sheltered from the weather. spite of all
The want (as has been said,) of brim.

A change came o'er the color of my hat.

And last, not least of rescued blessings, lo70-
Love smiled on me again, when I assumed

A bran new beaver of the Andre mou'd:
And then the laugh was mine. for then came out
The secret of this strangeness,-twas a BET.

That, which was black, grew brown, and then What are riches. empire, pow'r,
Den stared

With both their eyes (they stared with one before);
The wonder now, was twofold-and it seemed
Strange, that things so torn, and old, should still
Be worn, by one who might-but let that pass:
I had my reasons, which might be revealed,
But, for some counter reasons far more strong,
Which tied my tongue to silence. Time passed on.
Green spring, and flowery summer-autumn
brown,

And frosty winter came,-and went, and came-
And still, through all the seasons of two years,

But larger means to gratify the will?
The steps on which we tread, to rise and reach
Our wish; and that obtain'd, down with the sca
folding
[served their end,
Of sceptres, crowns, and thrones: they have
And are, like lumber, to be left and scorn'd. ~
Honor and virtue-are the boons we claim;
Nought gives a rest to life, when they are fled
Nought else, can fan aright the holy flame:
And, should they perish, every hope is dead.
The man, who builds, and lacks wherewith to pay,
Provides a house--from which to run away.

709. LOCHINVAR.

708. CHARACTER OF PITT. The secreary-stood alone; modern degeneracy-had O young Lochinvar is come out of the west, not reached him. Original, and unaccom- Thro' all the wide border, his steed was the bestmodating, the features of his character-had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind and save his good broadsword, he weapon had overawed majesty: and one of his sovereigns He rode all marined, and he rode all alone. [none, thought royalty so impaired in his presence, So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, that he conspired to remove him, in order to There never was knight, like the young Loclunvar. be relieved from his superiority. No state He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the vulgar level of the great; He swam the Eske river, where ford there was bt overbearing, persuasive, and impractic- But ere he alighted, at Netherby gate, [none. ave, his object--was England, his ainbition The bride had consented, the gallant came late. was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, party; without corrupting, he made a venal Was to wed the fair Ellen, of brave Lochinvar. age unanimous. So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and Then spoke the bride's father,his hand on his sword, For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, O come ye in peace, here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochin

var."

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The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up.
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar;
"Now tread we a measure," said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did
while her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom-stood dangling his bonnet
and plume,
[ter by far,
And the bride maidens whispered, ""T were bet-
To have match'd our fair cousin, with young

grace;

France sank beneath him. With one nand, he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded, with the other, the democracy of England. The sight of his mind-was infinite; and his schemes were to affect, not England, and the present age only, but Europe, and posterity. Wonderful were the means, by which these schemes were accomplished, always seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding, animated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. The ordinary feelings, which rende life amiable, and indolent, were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domestic weakness reached him; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came, occasionally, into our system. to counsel, and to decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so authoritative, astonished a corrupt age; and the Treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, thro' all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman; and talked much of the ruin of his victories; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, refuted her. Nor were his political abilities-his only talents: his eloquence--was an era-in the senate; peculiar. and spontaneous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdom; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumenta-So light to the croupe, the fair lady he swung, tion, nor was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of exertion; but, rather, lightened She's won, we are gone, over bank, bush, and So light to the saddle, before her he sprung, upon the subject, and reached the point by flashings of the mind, which, like those of his [young Lochinvar. eye, were felt, but could not be followed. They'll have swift steeds that follow," quoth There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Nether (they ra, Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode al There was racing, and chasing on Cannobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so gallant in war, [invar? Have you e'er heard of gallant like young Loch

Upon the whole, there was something in

this man, that could create, subvert, or re-
form; an understanding, a spirit, and an elo-
quence, to summon mankind to society, or to
break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to
rule the wilderness of free minds with un-
bounded authority-something that could
establish, or overwhelm empires, and strike
a blow in the world, which should resound
throughout the universe.-Grattan.

Reward him for the noble deed, just Heaven!
For this one action, guard him and distinguish him,
With signal mercies and with great deliverances;
Save him from wrong, adversity and shame:
Let never-fading honor flourish round him,
And consecrate his name ev'n to time's end:
Let him know nothing but good on earth,
And everlasting blessedness hereafter.

Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger, stood near,

scaur,

by clan.

The good merchant wrongs rot the buyer in number, weight, or measure. These are the landmarks of all trading, which must not be removed: for such cosenage were worse than open felony. First, because they rob a man of his purse, and never bid him stand. Secondly, because highway thieves defy, but these pretend, justice. Thirdly, as much as lies in their power, they endeavor to make God accessory to their cosenage, deceiving, by pretending his weights.

710, EULOGIUM ON KOSCIUSKO. Speech of Gen. W. H. Harrison, the ninth Fresident, in the Cod gress of the United States, in the year 1818, on a motion to adopt some public testimony of respect for the memory of General

Thaddeus Kosciusko,

erty, and independence, was a work of as much ficulty, as danger. But, to a mind like Kosciusko's, the difficulty, and danger of an enterprise served as st mulants to the undertaking. The annals of those times-give us no detailed account of the progress of Kosciusko, in acThe public papers-have announced an event, complishing his great work, from the period of which is well calculated-to excite the sympathy his return to America. to the adoption of the new --of every American bosom. Kosciusko, the constitut on of Poland. in 1791. This interval, mariyr of Liberty, is no more! We are inform-however, of apparent inaction, was most usefully ed, that he died at Soleure, in France, some time employed to illum ne the mental darkness, which in October last. enveloped his countrymen. To stimulate the ig In tracing the events-of this great man's life, norant and bigoted peasantry with the hope of we find in him, that consistency of conduct, which future emancipation-to teach a proud, but galis the more to be admired, as it is so rarely to be lant nobility, that true glory is only to be found, net with. He was not. at one time, the friend of in the paths and duties of patriotism:-interests the mankind, and at another, the instrument of their most opposed, prejudices--the most stul orn, and oppression; but he preserved. throughout his habits-the most inveterate, were recone led, diswhole carcer, those noble principles, which dissipated. and broken, by the ascendancy of his Unguished him in its commencement, which in virtues and example. The storm, which he had fluenced him, at an early period of his life, to foreseen, and for which he had been preparing, leave his country--and his friends, and, in another at length burst upon Poland. A feeble and unhem sphere. to fight-or the rights of humanity. popular government-bent before its fury, and Kose usko was born. and educated, in Poland; submitted itself to the Russian yoke of the invafof a noble, and distinguished family.) a country, der. But the nation disdained to follow its examwhere the distinctions in society are, perhaps, ple; in their extrem ty, every eye was turned on carried to greater lengths, than in any other. His the hero, who had already fought their battles, the Creator had, however, endowed him with a soul sage, who had enl ghtened them and the patriot, capable of rs ng above the narrow prejudices who had set the example of personal saer ficesof a caste, and breaking the shackles, which a to necomplish the emancipation of the people. vicious educat on had imposed on his mind. Kose usko-was unan mously appointed generWhen he was very young, he was informed, by aliss mo of Poland, with unlimited powers, unti the voice of Fame, that the standard of liberty the enemy should be driven from the country. On had been erected in America-that an insulted his virtue, the nat on reposed with the utmost conand oppressed people--had determined to be free, fidence, and it is some consolation to reflect, or perish-in the attempt. His ardent and gen- am dst the general depravity of mankind that erous mind--caught, with enthusiasm, the holy two instances, n the same age, have occurred, flame, and from that moment he became the dovo- where powers of this kind were employed-soleted solder of liberty. His rank in the American ly for the purposes for which they were given. It army-afforded him no opportunity--greatly to is not my intention, sr. to follow the Polish chief distinguish himself. But he was remarkable--throughout the career of victory, wireh, for a through ins service. for all the qualities which considerable time, crowned his efforts. Gu ded adorn the human character. His hero e valor in by his talents, and led by his valor, his und seipthe field, could only be equaled-by his modera- fined, ill-armed in litia-charged, with effect, the tion and affabilty, in the walks of private life. veteran Russian and Pruss an; the mailed cuiHe was idolized by the soldiers-for his bravery, rass.ers of the great Frederic, for the first time, and beloved and respected by the officers, for the broke-and fled, before the lighter, and more ap goodness of his heart, and the great qualities of propriate cavalry of Poland. Hope filled the breasts of the patrois. After a long night, the dawn of an apparently glorious day-broke upon Poland. But to the discerning eye of Kose usko, the light which it shed-was of that sekly, and portentous appearance, indicating a storm more dreadful than that, which he had res sted.

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He prepared to meet it with firmness, but with means entirely inadequate. To the advantages of numbers, of tactics, of discipline, and inex haustible resources, the combined despots had se

Contributing greatly, by his exertions, to the establishment of the independence of America, he, might have rema ned, and shared the blessings it dispensed, under the protection of a chief, who loved and honored him. and in the Losom of a grateful and affectionate people. Kose usko bad. 1 however, other views. It is not known. that unnl the per od I am speaking of, he had formed any distinet idea-o what could, or indeed what ought to be done for his own country. But in the Rev-cured a faction-in the heart of Poland. And, if olut onary war, he drank, deeply, of the principles, which produced it. In his conversations, with the intelligent men of our country, he acquired new views of the science of government, and of the rights of man. He had seen, too, that, to be free, it was only necessary that a nat on should; will it; and to be happy, it was only necessary that a nat on should be free. And was it not possible-to procure these blessings for Poland! for Poland, the country of his birth, which had a elam to all his efforts, to all his services!

That unhappy wat on-groaned under a comficat on of ev is which has scarcely a paralle! i, history. The mass of people-were the abject slaves of the nobles, the nobles, torn into fact ons, were alternately the nstruments, and the victims, of the r power at and ambtous neightors. By intrigue, corruption, and force, some of its fairest provinces had been separated from the republe. and the people, Like beasts, transferred to foreg despois who were again watching for a favorable momem-or a second dismemberment. To regenerate a people-thus delased, to oltam for a tountry—ihus crcumstanced, the blessings of lib-i

that country--can boast of having produced its Washington, it is disgraced also, by giving birth to a second Arnold. The day at length came which was to decide the fate of a nation and a hero. Heaven. for wise purposes, perinitted that it should be the last-of Polish liberty. It was decided, indeed. before the battle commenced. The traitor, Pon'ski, who covered, with a detachment. the advance of the Polish army, abandoned his position to the enemy, and retreated.

Kosciusko-was astonished, but not dismayed. The dispos tion of his army would have done honor to Hannibal. The succeeding conil et was terrible. When the talents of the general-could no longer direct the mangled mass of combatants, the arm of the warr or was brought to the and of his soldiers. He performed prodigies of valor. The fabled prowess of Ajax, in defending the Grecian ships-was realized by the Polish hero. Nor was he badly seconded by his troops. long as his voice could guide, or his example fire their valor. they were irresistible. In this une qual contest--Kosciusko-was long seen, and f nally-lost-to their view.

As

"Hope-for a season, bade the world-farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell."

He fell. covered with wounds, but still survived. A Cossack would have pierced his breast, when an officer interposed. "Suffer him to execute his purpose." said the bleeding hero; "I am the devoted soldier of my country, and will not survive its liberties." The name of Kosciusko-struck to the heart of the Tartar. like that of Mariusupon the Cimbrian warrior. The uplifted weapon-dropped-from his hand.

Kosciusko-was conveyed to the dungeons of Petersburgh; and, to the eternal disgrace of the Empress Catharine, she made him the object of her vengeance, when he could no longer be the object of her fears. Her more generous son-restored him to Iberty. The remainder of his lifehas been spent in virtuous retirement. Whilst in this situation, in France, an anecdote is related of him, which strongly illustrates the command, which his virtues and his services had obtainedover the minds of his countryinen.

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In the late invasion of France, some Polish regiments, in the service of Russia. passed through the village in which he lived. Soine pillaging of the inhabitants brought Kosciusko from his cottage. When I was a Polish soldier," said he, addressing the plunderers, "the property of the peaceful citizen was respected." And who art thou," said an officer, who addressest us with this tone of authority?" “I Kosciusko." There was a magic in the word. It ran from corps to corps, from heart to heart. The march was suspended. They gathered round him, and gazed-with astonishment, and awe-upon the mighty ruin-he presented. "Could it. indeed, be their hero." whose fame was identified with that of their country? A thousand interesting reflections burst upon their minds; they remembered his patriotism, his devotion to liberty, his triumphs. and his glorious fall. Their iron hearts were softened, and the tear of sensibility trickled down their weather-beaten faces.

We can easily conceive, sir, what would be the feeling of the hero himself in such a scene. His great heart must have heaved with emotion to find himself once more surrounded by the companions of his glory; and that he would have been upon the point of saying to them,

"Behold your general, come once more
To lead you on to laurel'd victory,
To fame, to freedom."

The delusion could have lasted but for a moment. He was himself, alas! a miserable cripple; and. for them! they were no longer the soldiers of liberty, but the instruments of ambition and tyranny. Overwhelmed with grief at the reflection, he would retire to his cottage, to mourn afresh over the miseries of his country.

712. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.
Under a spreading chestnut tree,

The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms,

Are strong, as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
His face--is like the tan;

His brow-is wet with honest sweat;
He earns-whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.

Week out, week in, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You hear him swing his heavy sledge,

With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton, ringing the old kirk chimes,
When the evening sun is low.

And children, coming home from school,
Look in at the open door;
They love to see a flaming forge,

And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks, that fly

Like chat--from a threshing-floor
He goes, on Sunday, to the church,

And sits among his boys;

He hears the parson-pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing-in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him, like her mother's voice,
Singing-in Paradise!

He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;

And with his hard--rough hand he wipes
A tear from out his eyes.
Toiling-rejoicing-sorrowing-
Onward--through life he goes:
Each morning-sees some task begin,
Each evening-sees it close;
Something attempted-something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus--at the flaming forge of Life,

Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus, on its sounding anvil shaped,

Each burning deed, and thought.
There's a tear that falls when we part
From a friend whose.loss we shall mourn;

When we think he may never return-oh, never. 'Tis hard to be parted from those

With whom we forever could dwell,
But bitter, indeed, is the sorrow that flows [ever.
When, perhaps, we are saying farewell-for-
There's a tear that brightens the eye

Such was the man, sir, for whose memory I ask from an American congress, a slight tribute of respect. Not, sir, to perpetuate his fame, but our gratitude. His fame-will last as long as liberty-remains upon the earth; as long as a vota-There's a tear that flows from the half-brok'n heart, ry-offers incense upon her altar. the name of Kosciusko-will be invoked. And if, by the common consent of the world. a temple shall be erect ed to those, who have rendered minst service to mankind--if the statue of our great countryman. Washington-shall occupy the place of the " Most Worthy." that of Kosciusco will be found by his side, and the wreath of laurel-will be entwined with the palm of virtue--to adorn his brow. Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heari-lone and desolate In the wide world. without that only tie For which it lov'd-to live, or feared-to die; Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day-its niaster--chord was broken.

Of the friend, when absence is o'er!
There's a tear that flows not for sorrow, but joy,
When we meet to be parted no more-oh, never!
Then all that in absence we dread

Is past, and forgotten our pan;
For sweet is the tear we at such moments shed,
When we behold the lov'd object again-forever.

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