warning voice-telling you that if you are resolved to go on, till ruin breaks with a fearful surprise upon your progress, they will go on with you-they must partake your danger, though they will not share your guilt.

Ireland, with her imperial crown, now stands before you. You have taken her parliament from her, and she appears in her own person at your bar. Will you dismiss a kingdom without a hearing? Is this your answer to her zeal, to her faith, to the blood that has so profusely graced your march to victory-to the treasures that have decked your strength in peace. Is her name nothingher fate indifferent-are her contributions insignificanther six millions revenue-her ten millions trade-her two millions absentee-her four millions loan? Is such a country not worth a hearing? Will you, can you dismiss her abruptly from your bar? You cannot do it-the instinct of England is against it. We may be outnumbered now and again-but in calculating the amount of the real sentiments of the people-the ciphers that swell the evanescent majorities of an evanescent minister, go for nothing.

Can Ireland forget the memorable era of 1788? Can others forget the munificent hospitality with which she then freely gave to her chosen hope all that she had to give? Can Ireland forget the spontaneous and glowing cordiality with which her favours were then received? Never! never! Irishmen grew justly proud in the consciousness of being subjects of a gracious predilectiona predilection that required no apology, and called for no renunciation-a predilection that did equal honour to him who felt it, and to those who were the objects of it. It laid the grounds of a great and fervent hope-all a nation's wishes crowding to a point, and looking forward to one event, as the GREAT COMING, at which every wound was to be healed, every tear to be wiped away.The hope of that hour beamed with a cheering warmth and a seductive brilliancy. Ireland followed it with all her heart-a leading light through the wilderness, and brighter in the gloom. She followed it over a wide and barren waste: it has charmed her through the desert, and now, that it has led her to the confines of light and darkness, now, that she is on the borders of the promised land, is the prospect to be suddenly obscured, and the

fair vision of princely faith to vanish for ever!-I will not believe it-I require an act of parliament to vouch its credibility-nay more, 1 demand a miracle to convince me that it is possible!

XLI.

Decisive Integrity.*—WIRT.

THE man who is so conscious of the rectitude of his intentions, as to be willing to open his bosom to the inspection of the world, is in possession of one of the strongest pillars of a decided character. The course of such a man will be firm and steady, because he has nothing to fear from the world, and is sure of the approbation and support of heaven. While he, who is conscious of secret and dark designs which, if known, would blast him, is perpetually shrinking and dodging from public observation, and is afraid of all around, and much more of all above him.

Such a man may, indeed, pursue his iniquitous plans steadily; he may waste himself to a skeleton in the guilty pursuit; but it is impossible that he can pursue them with the same health-inspiring confidence and exulting alacrity, with him who feels, at every step, that he is in the pursuit of honest ends by honest means. The clear, unclouded brow, the open countenance, the brilliant eye which can look an honest man steadfastly, yet courteously in the face, the healthfully beating heart, and the firm elastic step, belong to him whose bosom is free from guile, and who knows that all his motives and purposes are pure and right. Why should such a man falter in his course? He may be slandered; he may be deserted by the world: but he has that within which will keep him erect, and enable him to move onward in his course with his eyes fixed on heaven, which he knows will not desert him.

Let your first stop, then, in that discipline which is to give you decision of character, be the heroic determina

*From Mr. Wirt's Address to the Students of Rutgers College.

tion to be honest men, and to preserve this character through every vicissitude of fortune, and in every relation which connects you with society. I do not use this phrase, "honest men," in the narrow sense, merely, of meeting your pecuniary engagements, and paying your debts; for this the common pride of gentlemen will constrain you to do. I use it in its larger sense of discharg ing all your duties, both public and private, both open and secret, with the most scrupulous heaven-attesting integrity in that sense, further, which drives from the bosom all little, dark, crooked, sordid, debasing considerations of self, and substitutes in their place a bolder, loftier and nobler spirit: one that will dispose you to consider yourselves as born, not so much for yourselves, as for your country and your fellow creatures, and which will lead you to act on every occasion sincerely, justly, generously, magnanimously.

There is a morality on a larger scale, perfectly consistent with a just attention to your own affairs, which it would be the height of folly to neglect: a generous expansion, a proud elevation, and conscious greatness of character, which is the best preparation for a decided course, in every situation into which you can be thrown; and, it is to this high and noble tone of character that I would have you to aspire. I would not have you to resemble those weak and meagre streamlets, which lose their direction at every petty impediment that presents itself and stop, and turn back, and creep around, and search out every little channel through which they may wind their feeble and sickly course. Nor yet would I have you to resemble the headlong torrent that carries havock in its mad career. But I would have you like the ocean, that noblest emblem of majestic decision, which, in the calmest hour, still heaves its resistless might of waters to the shore, filling the heavens, day and night, with the echoes of its sublime declaration of independence, and tossing and sporting, on its bed, with an imperial consciousness of strength that laughs at opposi tion. It is this depth, and weight, and power, and purity of character, that I would have you to resemble; and I would have you, like the waters of the ocean, to become the purer by your own action.

XLII.

Right of Free Discussion.-WEBSTER.

IMPORTANT as I deem it to discuss, on all proper occasions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion, in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing fashionable, make it necessary to be explicit on this point. The more I perceive a disposition to check the freedom of inquiry by extravagant and unconstitutional pretences, the firmer shall be the tone, in which I shall assert, and the freer the manner, in which I shall exercise it.

It is the ancient and undoubted prerogative of this people to canvass public measures and the merits of public men. It is a "home-bred right," a fireside privilege. It hath ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage and cabin in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as the right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth. Belonging to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty; and it is the last duty, which those, whose representative I am, shall find me to abandon. Aiming at all times to be courteous and tem perate in its use, except when the right itself shall be questioned, I shall place myself on the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any arm that would move me from my ground.

This high constitutional privilege, I shall defend and exercise, within this house, and without this house, and in all places; in time of peace, and at all times. Living I shall assert it; and should I leave no other inheritance to my children, by the blessing of God, I will leave them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a manly, independent and constitutional defence of them.

XLIII.

Speech in the Convention of Virginia.-RANDOLPH. MR. CHAIRMAN-I must notice a topic of the gravest character which has been several times brought to our

view, by eastern members, in the course of debate. I mean a separation of the state-at one time gently insinuated at another wrapped up in beautiful rhetorical language, and finally expressed in what has been emphatically called plain old English. I am not disposed, sir, to regard such menaces, because I am aware of the extremities of intellectual warfare, and can estimate the effervescence of momentary excitement. They would not be impressed upon my mind, but for a corresponding sentiment which I have reason to believe prevails amongst the western people. I do not say that if slave representation should be forced upon them, they will raise the standard of rebellion, or in any wise resist the constituted authorities. Far from it. But within the pale of the constitution and laws, they will carry their opposition to the utmost limit; and the members of this committee can estimate the feelings of hostility by which it will be accompanied. The final result will be a separation of the state. No one can doubt that if such an event should be perseveringly, though peaceably sought, by a large portion of the state, it would be ultimately con

ceded.

I beg, sir, to be distinctly understood. There is no one in this committee to whom the idea of such a separation is more abhorrent than myself. I believe there is no man here who wishes separation for its own sake, or who could contemplate it for a moment, except as a refuge from greater evils.

We should look forward to such a calamity, only to deprecate and avoid it. Surely, it will not,-must not be. Separate Virginia! Shall she be shorn of her strength, her influence and her glory? Shall her voice of command, of persuasion and reproof, be no longer heard in the national councils? Shall she no more be looked up to as the guide of the strong, the guardian of the weak, and the protector of the oppressed? Break in twain the most precious jewel, and the separated parts are comparatively worthless. Divide Virginia, and both the east and the west will sink into insignificance, neglect and contempt.

I would to God, that for this single occasion only, I could utter my feelings in

"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."