representatives of a once powerful and advanced, (if we can form a judgment from the many signs which our continent affords,) but now departed and unknown race. These have for a length of time opened an interesting field for conjecture and inquiry, which the curious and the learned have not passed in neglect. Concerning them the common opinion is decisive, that they are stupendous sepulchres, or savage mausolea, not, in every instance, of a single chieftain or hero, but, oftentimes, of many, or of the gathering bodies of a whole tribe. A visitation of the Great Spirit in the terror of a pestilence, or the awful Scourge of war, may have given occasion for some of these monumental hills, which were afterwards to give rise to so much wonder, and appear in just sufficient color to inform futurity of its ignorance of the past. What a noble intention in those energetic beings to give their sepulchral heaps so noble a character, that they can claim rank among the hills of the land; whilst they have established them in such magnitude and strength, that they give evidence, if left alone to the ordinary assaults of nature, of an existence cöextensive with the earth! But the most interesting view in which to contemplate these giant tumuli, is not as simple sepulchres for the few mouldering bones within them, but as monuments of an entire nation, which they themselves erected, as in anticipation of a wide and complete destruction.

In the same category with these, but manifesting the energy and labor of superior civilization, resources, and mechanical skill, are those famous Egyptian grave-stones-the Pyramids. I must confess, the power that could erect mountains of rock in the desert waste, leading them up to so vast an altitude, that they can, without effort, survey a circumference of many leagues, appearing to the far-off traveler, as they lean against the sky, almost as pillars thereof; the power, I repeat, which could fashion these enormous structures, placing them side by side with the ordinary efforts of infantile man, must have been immense and extraordinary, regarding it, as we must, in the light of our human sense. But how infinitely superior and exalted the potency of that arm, which has established the monarch of nature, that out of the depths of heaven would look in contempt upon the pigmy honors of Egypt, towering to that great height to which the failing sight will hardly convey us, and resting in such lofty and incomprehensible grandeur, that

"Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head!"

Yet

Such is the mountain of God, and the mountain of man. Egypt may very well glory in those magnificent mountain tombs, which contain the ashes of her kings, and have made her name and land so famous through so many ages. It was, indeed, a noble mind, for one dwelling under fleshly guise, which originated that bold conception, and gave it reality in such stability of proportion and foundation, on the banks of the Nile. I remember none other of the kind so grand, save one, though it was unfortunately never realized, which

was that of Phidias, who proposed to sculpture Mount Athos into a giant statue of Alexander, to make him thus the King of Nature, as he had already become Conqueror of the World.

From these few brief and desultory considerations, combined with others which one's own mind will readily suggest, we can hardly escape the conclusion, that it is established in our nature to honor the dead even more than the living; which principle exhibits itself in thus erecting sepulchral memorials, of every grade and character, from the unhewn native rock to the costly and superb monument of a nation, and by this means displaying, before the minds of all people, innumerable representatives, in almost every spot, of that irrevocable and eternal decree, that they must all pass away.

STATESMANSHIP.

STATESMANSHIP! "What a volume in a word!" embodying all that the mind can conceive of, that is great and noble. We strive to realize it in its perfection, but succeed in catching only glimpses here and there, that dazzle, while the perfect whole escapes us.

We can conceive of no science more noble than that of Statesmanship, because none has such a field for action, none such a sphere for usefulness. We can conceive of no character more perfect than that of the real Statesman; because none requires such a combination of rare qualities both of the heart and head.

Were we to ask, in what true statesmanship consists, we should, doubtless, receive as many different replies as there are interests or parties. The Manufacturer would tell us, in the protection of homeindustry; while the Planter would expatiate on "free trade" and "open ports." The sturdy Son of the West would speak of Oregon and "extension of territory;" while the Merchant, again, would insist, that care to preserve peace and amicable foreign relations was the very essence of good Statesmanship.

Did we, however, answer for ourselves, we should say that true Statesmanship was manifested in reconciling such conflicting interests, in the equalization of favors, in benefiting the whole without injury to any part. Mr. Allison would probably denominate that Statesman the best, who most endeavors to restrict the influence of the people; while we would select the one who most promotes the happiness of the people. In most of these different views we find that interest or prejudice warps the judgment of men, and prevents a liberal consideration of what pertains, not to one party, or one interest, but to the whole country and every interest. So selfish is human nature, and so eager for its own advantage!

The object of the Statesman should be to guard and advance the interests of his country; to develop its energies and resources; and to improve the moral, social, and physical condition of his country

men. The real end of Statesmanship is to secure the blessings of peace, plenty, and contentment, to all classes and all sections. It looks not abroad, but finds its field for action at home. It guards not with eager jealousy the advance of neighboring States, but secures that of its own. Its aim is not national aggrandizement, but national happiness. The peaceful pursuits, agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, are the objects of its care. The laborer, surrounded by the fruits of his industry, should have reason to bless its action. The sailor, visiting every clime in peaceful and prosperous commerce, should be suffered to approve its policy. Cultivated fields, rich harvests, thriving manufactories, numerous villages, the spires of many edifices dedicated to religion and learning, the humbler though not less important school-house, meeting the gaze at every turn, and exposing, from its may be rude apertures, the smiling face of childhood, untaught in adversity, healthy, free, and happy; all these attest the presence of real Statesmanship; these are the results of its labors; these the witnesses to the world and to posterity that the Statesman has done his duty.

National honor is there too, synonymous, as it should be, with national interest. Let others glory in military success; let them boastfully display the torn banners that have floated over the battle-field; let them proudly array the seared veterans who have survived the deadly conflict; the true Statesman will bid them shroud with their boasted banners the mangled remains of those who were once the hope and trust of their country. He can bid them track those veterans to the homes they were torn from; and hark! if the hymn of glad triumph ascends from the desolated hearth, the depopulated village, the half-cultivated fields, from that people steeped in misery and degradation. There has been a charm in military fame, to captivate the Statesman and lead him from the consideration of true policy. charm has departed before the light of reason. Truths first demonstrated in our age-I might say, too, in our country-principles founded on the laws of nature and the rights of man, have exposed its falsity. Napoleon, the last of military despots, has passed away; and in his career, mankind acknowledged the universal truth that

"Ambition's life and labors all were vain."

That

There are times, indeed, when an appeal to arms is necessary. When forcible intervention from abroad would endanger the interests of the people, then will the true Statesman oppose arms to arms. Until then he will recognize honor in the prosperity of his countrymen. If such be his object-if such his duty-if such the real end and aim of Statesmanship-what must the Statesman be?

There are two qualities, whose union is his character we consider essential. The faculty of originating and combining, and the ability to execute, are both necessary, while the absence of either creates a radical defect. Statesmanship is not a science of abstractions. It is not enough for the Statesman to theorize. It is his part to act-to use, for the best practical purposes, the materials furnished. Ben

thamites may demonstrate the imperfectability of all existing institutions; but it becomes not the Statesman to follow these into an Utopian land, nor suffer his imagination to be captivated by their theories. All theories are useless, unless they can be tested by experience— unless they can be made subservient to practical purposes. The faculty of originating measures which will affect the happiness and prosperity of a whole nation; which will carry plenty and contentment into the midst of innumerable families; that power of intellect which can run along the line of posterity in its conceptions, and still affect the interests of generations unborn; which can unite the present with the future in the grandeur of designs that shall benefit the whole; this is, indeed, a noble faculty, a noble power, belonging only to the first order of men, and seeming to approximate to Divinity itself. But this alone is not Statesmanship. The mere conception effects nothing; the exposition of sound principles is of no avail, unless there be also the strong practical energy, that can perfect as well as originate. These, united, qualify the Statesman; and in their combination originates true Statesmanship. That quick, impulsive action, indeed, which characterizes the good commander, does not become the Statesman. His should be a firm, determined effort to advance settled principles; powers of persuasion and of exposition-"those divine gifts that govern Senates and guide Councils"-coolness, energy; more than all, unflinching determination and bold self-reliance, constitute the Statesman's perfection.

In observing the policies of distinguished Statesmen, we remark another characteristic. Moderation is essentially necessary in good Statesmanship. The Statesman must, indeed, have his own views of national policy, and his endeavor should be to advance these; but his conduct should be ever characterized by a spirit of conciliation. The success of important measures may often depend on this; for various and conflicting opinions are rife on every subject. To insist on a measure at the risk of its failure, would be esteemed the part of folly, when a compromise would ensure the reception of a part, in that part the principle, and, if the measure be a wise one, its ultimate and total success. We could not justify that Statesman who would willingly create discontent, and perhaps civil war, by perseverance in any policy, when compromise or delay would have averted these evils. No people could hold that man guiltless who had rashly involved them in war, rather than yield a single unimportant point in dispute. Greater ills should always be made to counterbalance the less, and minor difficulties should be borne rather than heavier be incurred. There are periods when firmness will succeed in overcoming opposition, and will establish a principle or secure an interest. There are those again, when the same firmness becomes impolitic and dangerous. How, for instance, should we have esteemed Mr. Clay, had not his firmness at Ghent secured to his fellow-citizens an invaluable privilege and just claim in the exclusive navigation of the Mississippi river? And, again, did not the compromise bill, originated by the same master mind, avert the worst ills that could have befallen these States? In the latter case

we find not only calamities averted, but also a wise policy established. Mr. Clay in these two circumstances established beyond doubt his ability as a Statesman, even were every other act of his obliterated. There appeared in them both a supreme love of country and a degree of political sagacity that can hardly be found elsewhere. We might, indeed, say that the whole history of Statesmanship in America is a history of compromise and concession. This government itself is founded on mutual concessions, and we may say, without partiality, that none has ever existed more likely to be permanent, more likely to realize the hopes of its friends, more likely to secure combined happiness to a people.

There is a species of Statesmanship, if we may be permitted to use such a palpable misnomer, that founds its claim to the appellation on a facility in discovering errors or defects in State policy. Those wouldbe Statesmen are numerous who very easily perceive defects in existing systems, while they can originate nothing themselves. They exhibit a remarkable proficiency in the art of extermination, and a remarkable deficiency in that of substitution. They acquire credit for keen sagacity and deep penetration, although their intellectual capital might be reckoned almost a minus quantity. The notoriety which such men gain may be very easily accounted for, since all human institutions are, in some degree, defective, and it is much easier to discover faults than to originate even passable systems. Ordinary intellects can accomplish the former-only those of a higher order can succeed in the latter. It is the province of the Statesman to build, rather than destroy. He must not attempt to adapt circumstances to himself; but he should adapt himself to circumstances. He must work with the materials at hand; mould them indeed to meet his views and policy, but not indulge in idle dreams of what he might do were circumstances different. The man who does indulge in these dreams, in wild speculation and craving after reform, could be a Statesman under no circumstances, unless the perfect creation of his own fancy, like the statue of Pygmalion, should be haply endued with life, and the unknown spring into real existence. Then he might be a Statesman, and his Statesmanship might be perfect. Until then, we fear, he must be content with the reputation of a speculative reformer.

"WHAT a splendid morning! Isn't it glorious? Come, Major, hurry up breakfast, we've no time to lose; and here, you Pomp, off with you to the stable, and get out the team. Ah! here you are, boys. Up early for once. Come, let's get grub and be off. There's the bellin with you."

Now, reader, imagine to yourself a table loaded in a way known