this as a People. But, Sir, it is principally and mainly for America herself, for the credit and character of our common country, that I hope to see this resolution pass: it is for our own unsullied name that I feel. What appearance, Sir, on the page of history, would a record like this make⚫ "In the month of January, in the year of our Lord and Saviour 1824, while all European Christendom beheld with cold, unfeeling apathy the unexampled wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian Greece, a proposition was made in the Congress of the United States,—almost the sole, the last, the greatest repository of human hope and of human freedom, the representatives of a Nation capable of bringing into the field a million of bayonets,-while the freemen of that Nation were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling, its fervent prayer for Grecian success : while the whole Continent was rising, by one simultaneous motion, solemnly and anxiously supplicating and invoking the aid of Heaven to spare Greece, and to invigorate her arms while temples and senate-houses were all resound ing with one burst of generous sympathy;-in the year of our Lord and Saviour,--that Saviour alike of Christian Greece and of us,—a proposition was offered in the American Congress, to send a messenger to Greece, to inquire into her state and condition, with an expression of our good wishes and our sympathies ;-and it was rejected!"

3. Go home, if you dare,-go home, if you can,—to your constituents, and tell them that you voted it down! Meet, if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declaration of your own sentiments: that, you cannot tell how, but that some unknown dread, some indescribable ap prehension, some indefinable danger, affrighted you: that the spectres of cimeters, and crowns, and crescents, gleamed before you, and alarmed you; and, that you suppressed all the noble feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by National Independence, and by humanity! I cannot bring myself to believe that such will be the feeling of a major ity of this House.

CXXV.-MEN ALWAYS FIT FOR FREEDOM.

T. B. MACAULAY.

1. THERE is only one cure for the evils which newly acquired freedom produces,-and that cure is freedom. When a prisoner leaves his cell, he cannot bear the light of day he is unable to discriminate colors, or recognize faces; but the remedy is not to remand him into his dun geon, but to accustom him to the rays of the sun. The blaze of truth and liberty may at first dazzle and bewilder Nations which have become half blind in the house of bondage; but let them gaze on, and they will soon be able to bear it.

2. In a few years men learn to reason: the extreme violence of opinion subsides: hostile theories correct each other: the scattered elements of truth cease to conflict, and begin to coalesce; and, at length, a system of justice and order is educed out of the chaos. Many politicians of our time are in the habit of laying it down as a selfevident proposition, that no People ought to be free till they are fit to use their freedom. The maxim is worthy of the fool in the old story, who resolved not to go into the water till he had learned to swim! If men are to wait for liberty till they become wise and good in slavery, they may, indeed, wait forever!

CXXVI.-RAIN ON THE ROOF.

COATES KINNEY. 1. WHEN the humid showers gather over all the starry spheres, And the melancholy darkness gently weeps in rainy tears, 'Tis a joy to press the pillow of a cottage chamber bed, And listen to the patter of the soft rain overhead.

2. Every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in the heart,
And a thousand dreary fancies into busy being start;
And a thousand recollections weave their bright hues into woof,
As I listen to the patter of the soft rain on the roof.

3. There in fancy comes my mother, as she used to years agone,
To survey the infant sleepers ere she left them till the dawn.

I can see her bending o'er me, as I listen to the strain
Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain.
4. Then my little seraph sister, with her wings and waving hair,
And her bright-eyed, cherub brother-a serene, angelic pair-
Glide around my wakeful pillow with their praise or mild reproof,
As I listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the roof.

5. And another comes to thrill me with her eyes' delicious blue.
I forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all untrue:
I remember that I loved her as I ne'er may love again,
And my heart's quick pulses vibrate to the patter of the rain.

6. There is naught in art's bravuras that can work with such a spell,
In the spirit's pure, deep fountains, whence the holy passions swell,
As that melody of nature-that subdued, subduing strain,
Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain!

BYRON.

CXXVII.-THE SHIPWRECK.

1. Ar half-past eight o'clock, booms, ben-coops, spars,
And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose,
That still could keep afloat the struggling tars;
For yet they strove, although of no great use.
There was no light in heaven but a few stars:
The boats put off, o'ercrowded with their crews:
She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port,
And going down head-foremost-sunk, in short.
2. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell;

Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave;
Then some leaped overboard, with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;

And the sea yawned around her like a hell;

And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,

Like one who grapples with his enemy,

And strives to strangle him before he die.
8. And first a universal shriek there rushed,

Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed,
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek: the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.

CXXVIII.-FORCE OF HABIT.

CHARLES A. WILEY.

1. In the Arctic ocean near the coast of Norway is situated the famous Maelstrom or whirlpool. Many are the goodly ships that have been caught in its circling power, and plunged into the depths below. On a fine. spring morning, near the shore opposite, are gathered a company of peasants. The winter and the long night have passed away; and, in accordance with their ancient custom, they are holding a greeting to the return of the sunlight, and the verdure of spring. Under a green shade are spread, in abundance, all the luxuries their pleasant homes could afford. In the grove at one side are heard the strains of music, and the light step of the dance.

2. At the shore lies a beautiful boat, and a party near are preparing for a ride. Soon all things are in readiness, and, amid the cheers of their companions on shore, they push gayly away. The day is beautiful, and they row on, and on. Weary, at length, they drop their oars to rest; but they perceive their boat to be still moving. Somewhat surprised, soon it occurs to them that they are under the influence of the whirlpool.

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3. Moving slowly and without an effort-presently faster, at length the boat glides along with a movement far more delightful than with oars. Their friends from the shore perceive the boat moving, and see no working of the oars,it flashes upon their minds-they are evidently within the circles of the maelstrom. When the boat comes near they call to them, "Beware of the whirlpool! " But they laugh at fear, they are too happy to think of returning: "When we see there is danger then we will return." Oh, that some good angel would come with warning unto them, 66 Unless ye now turn back ye cannot be saved." Like as the voice of God comes to the soul of the impenitent, "Unless ye mend your ways ye cannot be saved."

4. The boat is now going at a fearful rate; but, deceived by the moving waters, they are unconscious of its rapidity.

They hear the hollow rumbling at the whirlpool's centre. The voices from the shore are no longer audible, but every effort is being used to warn them of their danger. They now, for the first time, become conscious of their situation, and head the boat towards shore. But, like a leaf in the autumn gale, she quivers under the power of the whirlpool. Fear drives them to frenzy! Two of the strongest seize the oars, and ply them with all their strength, and the boat moves towards the shore. With joy they cherish hope! and some, for the first time in all their lives, now give thanks to God, that they are saved. But, suddenly, CRASH! goes an oar! and such a shriek goes up from that ill-fated band, as can only be heard when a spirit lost drops into perdition!

5. The boat whirls again into its death-marked channel and skips on with the speed of the wind. The roar at the centre grinds on their ears, like the grating of prison doors on the ears of the doomed. Clearer, more deafening is that dreadful roar, as nearer and still nearer the vessel approach. es the centre! then, whirling for a moment on that awful brink, she plunges with her freight of human souls into that dreadful yawning hollow, where their bodies shall lie in their watery graves till the sea gives up its dead!

6. And so, every year, aye, every month, thousands, passing along in the boat of life, enter almost unaware the fatal circles of the wine-cup. And, notwithstanding the earnest voices of anxious friends, "Beware of the gutter! of the grave! of hell!" they continue their course until the "force of habit" overpowers them; and, cursing and shrieking, they whirl for a time on the crater of the maelstrom, and are plunged below!

CXXIX.-POETICAL AND PROSE SELECTIONS.

1.-FROM GOLDEN LEGEND.

1. THE Life which is, and that which is to come,
Suspended hang in such nice equipoise