suffer, with the poignant recollection of taking the life of one who was too magnanimous in return to attempt his own. Had he known this, it must have paralyzed his arm while he pointed, at so incorruptible a bosom, the instrument of death. Does he know this now, his heart, if it not be adamant, must soften-if it be not ice, it must melt. But on this article I forbear. Stained with blood as he is, if he be penitent, I forgive him—and if he be not, before these altars, where all of us appear as suppliants, I wish not to excite your vengeance, but rather, in behalf of an object rendered wretched and pitiable by crime, to wake your prayers. * * * * * * Would to God I might be permitted to approach for once the late scene of death. Would to God, I could there assemble on the one side the disconsolate mother with her seven fatherless children-and on the other those who administer the justice of my country. Could I do this, I would point them to these sad objects. I would entreat them by the agonies of bereaved fondness, to listen to the widow's heartfelt groans; to mark the orphan's sighs and tears—and having done this, I would uncover the breathless corpse of Hamilton-I would lift from his gaping wound his bloody mantle-I would hold it up to heaven before them, and I would ask, in the name of God, I would ask, whether at the sight of it they felt no compunction. Ye who have hearts of pity-ye who have experienced the anguish of dissolving friendship-who have wept, and still weep over the moldering ruins of departed kindred, ye can enter into this reflection. O thou disconsolate widow! robbed, so cruelly robbed, and in so short a time, both of a husband and a son! what must be the plenitude of thy sufferings! Could we approach thee, gladly would we drop the tear of sympathy, and pour into thy bleeding bosom the balm of consolation. But how could we comfort her whom God hath not comforted! To his throne, let us lift up our voice and weep. O God! if thou art still the widow's husband, and the father of the fatherless -if, in the fullness of thy goodness, there be yet mercies in store for miserable mortals, pity, O pity this afflicted mother, and grant that her helpless orphans may find a friend, a benefactor, a father in Thee! 104 Ex. XXXVII-THE WINDS. YE winds, ye unseen currents of the air, W. C. BRYANT. Ye bore the murmuring bee; ye tossed the hair Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow. How are ye changed! Ye take the cataract's sound; The weary fowls of heaven make wing in vain, The harvest field becomes a river's bed; Ye dart upon the deep; and straight is heard Ye fling its floods around you, as a bird Flings o'er his shivering plumes the fountain's spray. See! to the breaking mast the sailor clings; Ye scoop the ocean to its briny springs, And take the mountain billow on your wings, Why rage ye thus ?-no strife for liberty Has made you mad; no tyrant, strong through fear, Has chained your pinions till ye wrenched them free, And rushed into the unmeasured atmosphere: For ye were born in freedom where ус blow; Free o'er the mighty deep to come and go; Earth's solemn woods were yours, her wastes of snow, Her isles where summer blossoms all the year. O ye wild winds! a mightier Power than yours Yet oh! when that wronged Spirit of our race, Lord of his ancient hills and fruitful plains, But may he like the Spring-time come abroad, Come spouting up the unsealed springs to light; Ex. XXXVIII.—PASSING AWA Y. MISS JEWSBURY I ASKED the stars in the pomp of night, "We have no light that hath not been given; "We shall fade in our beauty, the fair and bright, From the stars of heaven, and the flowers of earth, "Passing away," sing the breeze and rill, Ex. XXXIX.-THE DUEL. IN Brentford town, of old renown, Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, To see her ride from Hammersmith, By all it was allowed, Such fair "outside "* was never seen,— An angel on a cloud. HOOD. * Alluding to the English practice of females riding on the outside of stage coaches Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, "You choose to rival me, And court Miss Bell; but there your court "Unless you now give up your suit, You may repent your love ;- 66 So, pray, before you woo her more, Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, "And so I say to you, unless I, who have shot and hit bulls eyes, Now gold is oft for silver changed, But first they found a friend apiece, That when they both were dead, they 'd have To measure out the ground, not long The seconds next forbore; And having taken one rash step, They took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol pan, By putting in the prime of death, |