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most burdensome kind are levied, soldiers are collected, so as to leave a paucity of husbandmen; reviews and encampments succeed; and at last fifteen or twen
ty thousand men meet on a plain, and coolly shed each 15 other's blood, without the smallest personal animosity,
or the shadow of a provocation. The kings, in the meantime, and the grandees, who have employed these poor innocent victims to shoot bullets at each other's
heads, remain quietly at home, and amuse themselves, 20 in the intervals of balls, hunting schemes, and pleasures
of every species, with reading at the fireside, and over a cup of chocolate, the despatches from the army, and the news in the Extraordinary Gazette. If the King
of Prussia were not at the head of some of the best 25 troops in the world he would be judged more worthy
of being tried, and condemned, at the Old Bailey, than
any shedder of blood who ever died by a halter. But he is a king; but he is a hero;—those names fas
cinate us, and we enrol the butcher of mankind among 30 their benefactors.
When one considers the dreadful circumstances that attend even victories, one cannot help being a little shocked at the exultation which they occasion. I have
often thought it would be a laughable scene, if there 35 were not too much of the melancholy in it, when a cir
cle of eager politicians have met to congratulate each other on a piece of good news just arrived. Every eye sparkles with delight; every voice is raised in announc
ing the happy event. And what is the cause of all this 40 joy? and for what are our windows illuminated, bonfires
kindled, bells rung, and feasts celebrated? We have had a successful engagement. We have left a thousand of the enemy dead on the field of battle, and only nine
hundred of our countrymen. Charming news! it was a 45 glorious battle! But before you give a loose to your rap
tures, pause awhile; and consider, that to every one of these nineteen hundred, life was no less sweet than it is to you; that to the far greater part of them there prob
ably were wives, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, sis50 ters, brothers and friends, all of whom are at this mo
ment bewailing that event which occasions your foolish and brutal triumph.
Exercise 60. The Warrior.-HARBINGER OF PEACE. 1 A gallant form is passing by,
The plume bends o'er his lordly brow;
His song of triumph now.
makes bare his locks of gray.
2 Fair forms have lent their gladdest smile,
White hands have wav'd the conqueror on, And flowers have decked his path the while,
By gentle fingers strown. Soft tones have cheered him, and the brow Of beauty beams, uncover'd now.
3 The bard hath waked the sòng for him,
And pour’d his boldest numbers forth;
Adds frenzy to the mirth;
4 (<) The gallant steed treads proudly on;
His foot falls fìrmly now, as when
Upon the hearts of mèn;
5 Dream they of these—the glad and gay,
That bend around the conqueror's path? The horrors of the conflict day
The gloomy field of death-
The ráven stooping o'er the dead?
No terrors to the triumph hour,
Of blended crime and power.
7 Mén-Christians! pause—the air ye breathe
Is poison’d by your idol now;
Your cháplets round his brow?
Death of Ashmun.—Mrs. SIGOURNEY. 1 (-) Whose is
sable bier? Why move the throng so slow? Why doth that lonely mòther's tear
In sudden anguish flow?
To rest in mànhood's pride?
I spake,-but none replied.
2 (.) The hoarse wave murmured low,
The distant surges roar’d;-
A deep response was pour’d;
Upon her billowy strand;
An anchor from her hand.
3(-) Ah! well I know thee now,
Though foreign suns would trace
Thou friend of misery's race;-
Of ruthless war swept by,
Their guide to worlds on high
4 Spirit of Power,-pass òn!
Thy homeward wing is free;
She hath no chain for thee:-
Nor Sòrrow check thy race, -
Go to thy own blēst plāce.
Love of Applause.--Hawes. To be insensible to public opinion, or to the estimation in which we are held by others, indicates any thing, rather than a good and generous spirit. It is indeed
the mark of a low and worthless character;—devoid of 5 principle, and therefore devoid of shame. A young
man is not far from ruin, when he can say, without blushing, I don't care what others think of me.
But to have a proper regard to public opinion is one thing; to make that opinion our rule of action is quite 10 another The one we may cherish consistently with
the purest virtue, and the most unbending rectitude; the other we cannot adopt, without an utter abandonment of principle and disregard of duty. The young
man whose great aim is to please, who makes the opin15 ion and favor of others his rule and motive of action;
stands ready to adopt any sentiments, or pursue any course of conduct, however false and criminal, provided only, that it be popular. In every emergency, his first
question is, what will my companions, what will the 20 world think and say of me, if I adopt this, or that course
of conduct? Duty, the eternal laws of rectitude, are not thought of. Custom, fashion, popular favor; these are the things, that fill his entire vision, and decide
every question of opinion and duty. Such a man can 25 never be trusted; for he has no integrity, and no in
dependence of mind, to obey the dictates of rectitude. He is at the mercy of every casual impulse and change of popular opinion; and you can no more tell whether
he will be right or wrong tomorrow, than you can pre30 dict the course of the wind, or what shape the clouds will then assume.
And what is the usual consequence of this weak and foolish regard to the opinions of men?-What the end
of thus acting in compliance with custom in opposition 35 to one's own convictions of duty? It is to lose the esteem and respect of the very men whom you thus attempt to please. Your defect of principle and hollow heartedness are easily perceived; and though the per
sons to whom you thus sacrifice your conscience, may 40 affect to commend your complaisance, you may be as
sured, that, inwardly, they despise you for it. Young men can hardly commit a greater mistake, than to think of gaining the esteem of others, by yielding to their
wishes, contrary to their own sense of duty. Such con45 duct is always morally wrong, and rarely fails to deprive
one, both of self-respect, and of the respect of others.
Christian Integrity.--Hawes. It is very common, I know, for young men just coinmencing business, to imagine that, if they would advance their secular interests, they must not be very
scrupulous in binding themselves down to the strict 5 rules of rectitude. They must conform to.custom; and
if in buying and selling they sometimes say the things that are not true, and do the things that are not honest; why, their neighbors do the same; and, verily, there
is no getting along without it. There is so much com10 petition and rivalry, that to be strictly honest, and yet succeed in business, is out of the question.
Now if it were indeed so, I would say to a young man; then, quit your business. Better dig, and beg
too, than to tamper with conscience, sin against God, 15 and lose your soul.
But is it so?-is it necessary in order to succeed in business, that you should adopt a standard of morals, more lax and pliable, than the one placed before you
in the Bible? Perhaps, for a time, a rigid adherence to 20 rectitude might bear hard upon you; but how would it
be in the end? Possibly, your neighbor, by being less scrupulous than yourself, may invent a more expeditious way of acquiring a fortune. If he is willing to violate
the dictates of conscience; to lie, and cheat, and tram25 ple on the rules of justice and honesty, he may, indeed,
get the start of you, and rise suddenly to wealth and distinction. But would you envy him his riches, or be