But, ah! my young friends,

you crop the unblown flower, and drink the untasted spring. Full of spirit, and high in hope, you set out on the journey of life: visions of bliss present themselves to view: dreams of joy, with sweet delusion, amuse the vacant mind. You listen, and accord to the song of hope, "To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant." the flattering scene will not last. The spell is quickly broken, and the enchantment soon over. How hideous will life appear, when experience takes off the mask, and discovers the sad reality! Now thou hast no weariness to clog thy waking hours, and no care to disturb thy repose. But know, child of the earth, that thou art born to trouble; and that care, through every subsequent path of life, will haunt thee like a ghost. Health now sparkles in thine eye, the blood flows pure in thy veins, and thy spirits are gay as the morning: but, alas! the time will come, when diseases, a numerous and direful train, will assail thy life; the time will come, when, pale and ghastly, and stretched on a bed, chastened with pain, and the multitude of thy bones with strong pain, thou wilt be ready to choose strangling and death, rather than life."

You are now happy in your earthly companions. Friendship, which in the world is a feeble sentiment, with you is a strong passion. But shift the scene for a few years, and behold the man of thy right-hand, become unto thee as an alien. Behold the friend of thy youth, who was one with thine own soul, striving to supplant thee, and laying snares for thy ruin! I mention not these things, my young friends, to make you miserable before the time. God forbid, that I should anticipate the evil day, unless I could arm you against it. Now, remember your Creator, consecrate to him the early period of your days, and the light of his countenance will shine upon you through life. Amid all the changes of this fluctuating scene, you have a friend that never fails. Then, let the tempests beat, and the floods descend, you are safe and happy, under the shelter of the rock of ages.

8. CONTEMPLATION OF THE DIVINE BEING IN HIS WORKS.Fielding.

What time can suffice for the contemplation and worship of that glorious, immortal, and eternal Being; among the works of whose stupendous creation, not only this globe, but even those numberless luminaries, which we may here behold spangling

all the sky, though they should be suns lighting different systems of worlds, may possibly appear but as a few atoms, opposed to the whole earth which we inhabit? Can a man, who by divine meditations is admitted, as it were, into the conversation of this ineffable, incomprehensible Majesty, think days, or years, or ages, too long for the continuance of so ravishing an honor? Shall the trifling amusements, the palling pleasures, the silly business of the world, roll away our hours too swiftly from us and, shall the space of time seem sluggish, to a mind exercised in studies so high, so important, and so glorious? As no time is sufficient, so no place is improper for this great concern. On what object can we cast our eyes, which may not inspire us with ideas of his power, of his wisdom, and of his goodness? It is not necessary that the rising sun should dart his fiery glories over the eastern horizon; nor that the boisterous winds should rush from their caverns and shake the lofty forest; nor that the opening clouds should pour their deluges on the plains; it is not necessary, I say, that any of these should proclaim his Majesty; there is not an insect, not a vegetable of so low an order in the creation, as not to be honored with bearing marks of the attributes of its great Creator; marks, not only of his power, but of his wisdom and goodness. Man alone, the king of this globe, and last and greatest work of the supreme Being, below the sun; man alone, hath basely dishonored his own nature; and by dishonesty, cruelty, ingratitude, and treachery, hath called his Maker's goodness in question, by puzzling us to account how a benevolent Being should form so foolish and so vile an animal. And yet this is the being who stands pre-eminently the debtor of his great Creator. True it is that philosophy makes us wiser, but Christianity makes us better men; philosophy elevates, and steels the mind, Christianity softens and sweetens it. The former makes us the object of human admiration, the latter of divine love. That insures us a temporal, but this an eternal happiness.

9. CÆSAR'S TRIUMPHS.-Knowles.

To form a just estimate of Cæsar's aims, Mr. President, look to his triumphs after the surrender of Utica-Utica, more honored in being the grave of Cato, than Rome in having been the cradle of Cæsar!

You will read, sir, that Cæsar triumphed four times. First, for his victory over the Gauls; secondly, over Egypt; thirdly,

over Pharnaces; lastly, over Juba, the friend of Cato. His first, second, and third triumphs were, we are told, magnificent. Before him marched the princes and noble foreigners of the countries he had conquered; his soldiers, crowned with laurels, followed him; and the whole city attended with acclamations. This was well!-the conqueror should be honored. His fourth triumph approaches-as magnificent as the former ones. It does not want its royal captives, its soldiers crowned with laurels, or its flushed conqueror, to grace it; nor is it less honored by the multitude of its spectators-but they send up no shout of exultation; they heave loud sighs; their cheeks are frequently wiped; their eyes are fixed upon one object, that engrosses all their senses their thoughts-their affections-it is the statue of Cato-carried before the victor's chariot! It represents him rending open his wound, and tearing out his bowels; as he did in Utica, when Roman liberty was no more! Now, ask if Cæsar's aim was the welfare of his country!-Now, doubt if he was a man governed by a selfish ambition! Now, question whether he usurped, for the mere sake of usurping! He is not content to triumph over the Gauls, the Egyptians, and Pharnaces; he must triumph over his own countrymen! He is not content to cause the statue of Scipio and Petrius to be carried before him; he must be graced by that of Cato! He is not content with the simple effigy of Cato; he must exhibit that of his suicide! He is not satisfied to insult the Romans with triumphing over the death of liberty; they must gaze upon the representation of her expiring agonies, and mark the writhings of her last-fatal struggle !

10. LAS-CASAS DISSUADING FROM BATTLE.- -Sheridan.

Is then the dreadful measure of your cruelty not yet complete? Battle! gracious Heaven! Against whom?-Against a king, in whose mild bosom your atrocious injuries, even yet, have not excited hate! but who, insulted or victorious, still sues for peace. Against a people, who never wronged the living being their Creator formed; a people, who, children of innocence! received you as cherished guests, with eager hospitality and confiding kindness. Generously and freely did they share with you, their comforts, their treasures, and their homes: you repaid them by fraud, oppression, and dishonor. These eyes have witnessed all I speak ;-as gods you were received as fiends you have acted.

Pizarro, hear me !-Hear me, chieftains!—And thou, Allpowerful! whose thunder can shiver into sand the adamantine rock,-whose lightnings can pierce to the core of the riven and quaking earth,-Oh! let thy power give effect to thy servant's words, as thy spirit gives courage to his will! Do not, I implore you, chieftains,-countrymen-Do not, I implore you, renew the foul barbarities, your insatiate avarice has inflicted, on this wretched, unoffending race!-But hush, my sighs! fall not, ye drops of useless sorrow!-heart-breaking anguish, choke not my utterance.-All I entreat is, send me once more to those you call your enemies. Oh! let me be the messenger of penitence from you, I shall return with blessings and peace from them. Elvira, you weep!-Alas! does this dreadful crisis move no heart but thine ?-Time flies-words are unavailing the chieftains declare for instant battle!

Oh God! thou hast anointed me thy servant-not to curse, but to bless my countrymen: yet now my blessing on their force, were blasphemy against thy goodness. No! I curse your purpose, homicides! I curse the bond of blood, by which you are united.-May fell division, infamy, and rout, defeat your projects, and rebuke your hopes!-On you, and on your children, be the peril of the innocent blood, which shall be shed this day! I leave you, and for ever! No longer shall these aged eyes be seared by the horrors they have witnessed. In caves-in forests, will I hide myself; with tigers and with savage beasts, will I commune; and when at length we meet again, before the blessed tribunal of that Deity whose mild doctrines, and whose mercies ye have this day renounced, then shall you feel the agony and grief of soul which now tear the bosom of your weak accuser!—

11. INVECTIVE AGAINST THE DUKE OF BEDFORD.-Junius. f

Let us consider you, then, my lord, as arrived at the summit of worldly greatness: let us suppose that all your plans of avarice and ambition are accomplished, and your most sanguine wishes gratified, in the fear as well as the hatred of the people; can age itself forget that you are in the last act of life? Can grey hairs make folly venerable? and is not their period to be reserved for meditation and retirement? For shame! my lord, let it not be recorded of you, that the last moments of your life were dedicated to the same unworthy pursuits, the same busy agitations, in which your youth and manhood were exhausted.

Consider, that, although you cannot disgrace your former life. you are violating the character of age, and exposing the impotent imbecility after you have lost the vigor of the passions.

Your friends will ask, perhaps, where shall this unhappy old man retire? Can he remain in the metropolis, where his life has been so often threatened, and his palace so often attacked? If he returns to Woburn, scorn and mockery await him. He must create a solitude round his estate, if he would avoid the face of reproach and derision. At Plymouth, his destruction would be more than probable; at Exeter, inevitable. No honest Englishman will ever forget his attachment, nor any honest Scotchman forgive his treachery, to lord Bute. At every town he enters, he must change his liveries and name. Whichever

way he flies, the hue and cry of the country pursues him. In another kingdom, indeed, the blessings of his administration have been more sensibly felt; his virtues better understood; or, at worst, they will not for him alone forget their hospitality. As well might Verres have returned to Sicily. You have twice escaped, my lord; beware of a third experiment. The indignation of a whole people, plundered, insulted, and oppressed as they have been, will not always be disappointed.

It is vain therefore to shift the scene. You can no more fly from your enemies than from yourself. Persecuted abroad, you look into your own heart for consolation, and find nothing but reproaches and despair. But, my lord, you may quit the field of business, though not the field of danger; and though you cannot be safe, you may cease to be ridiculous.

12. LUDICROUS ACCOUNT OF ENGLISH TAXES.-Ed. Review.

Permit me to inform you, my friends, what are the inevitable consequences of being too fond of glory ;-Taxes-upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under the foot-taxes upon every thing which it is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste-taxes upon warmth, light, and locomotion--taxes on every thing on earth, and the waters under the earth-on every thing that comes from abroad, or is grown at home-taxes on the raw material-taxes on every fresh value that is added to it by the industry of man-taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appetite, and the drug that restores him to health on the ermine which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the criminal-on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice-on the brass nails of the coffin, and