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What madness must have seized upon those who think to stay the progress of democratic principles Where can they look for support, where even for sympathy Their own ranks must be thin, and from the nature of the case must every day become thinner, and from whence will they draw recruits? Is an enfranchised and intelligent community to furnish those from its own number who are to debase and enslave it? A few traitors may be found, but verily, they must have strong confidence in the political as well as moral depravity of mankind, who will venture to act, relying upon such calculations. The experience of former free governments furnishes no warrant for such expectations, for in all the essential elements of a nation's prosperity, no analogy exists between their and our condition. Our government is in fact as well as in name a representative democracy: the republics of antiquity scarcely deserved the appellation. When we read of their liberty, we are prone to forget that this was the portion only of the higher orders, while the lower classes were groaning in the veriest servitude. Let us turn to the page of history, and we shall find that in the proudest days of Grecian and Roman liberty, by far the larger portion of the state was excluded from all participation in the administration or honors of government.

“This was that liberty renowned,
Those equal rights of Greece and Rome, where men,
All, but a few, were bought and sold, and scourged
And killed, as interest or caprice enjoined.”

How different is it here, where the lowest are entitled to all the rights and immunities of citizens. By this means a fruitful source of jealousies and enmities, of rebellions and insurrections, are for ever excluded from our system. The other causes which united to effect the ruin of former free governments do not exist here.

When driven from this his favorite ground, the aristocrat exultingly points us to our own condition, as presaging the final downfall of democratic principles. A few riots in some of our cities, a substitution of Lynch law in the place of statute law in some obscure section of our country, is eagerly seized upon, and published to the world as an index of our semi-barbarous condition. It would be useless to palliate the enormities which have thus caused our enemies to exult; but we can boldly cast the reproach back upon its author. We can call upon him to point us to that nation, the most refined, the best governed, aristocratic or monarchical, where excesses more disgusting have not been witnessed within the last ten years.

Our national vanity will be not a little increased, if we reflect upon the treatment which our country and its institutions receive from the aristocratic foreigner. He will survey the kingdoms of the old world, and, with an air of apparent unconcern, look upon the grossest acts of injustice, upon tumults and even anarchy itself; but let his eye be turned to republican America, and if every thing does not come up to his ideal standard of persection, his thoughts are troubled, his sympathies are at once enlisted in our behalf.

To the aristocrat of Europe we are however indebted for many valuable suggestions, offered it is true in any other than a spirit of kindness, yet well worthy of our attention. While perfection is not expected in our system of government, yet it should be aimed at, and every exertion made to approximate as closely to it as possible. The heart of the philanthropist, of the democrat in foreign countries, should not be pained by recitals of the indiscreet acts of those who have taken upon themselves to exemplify the great principles of democracy in this, its chosen seat. The feeling is not susficiently deep and universal among us, that every man is personally interested in the success of our political experiment, and that he has weighty responsibilities resting upon him.

It becomes us to show by our example, that the spirit of democracy is a spirit of virtue and intelligence as well as a spirit of power, to refute the base calumnies of our enemies abroad and at home, that it is calculated to debase human nature and reduce mankind to a level with the brute creation. Here, in America, it should be shown that under the enlivening influence of free principles, the dormant energies of the human mind are aroused to noble efforts, to persevering and honorable exertions in the cause of literature and science. It is not true that the greater the number of minds partially excited, the lower will be the standard of individual attainment; and here it should be proved, that while the many are enjoying all the advantages which flow from an education, the few can explore the greatest depths of science with as much zeal and success as if under the patronage of royalty. Why then shall we longer delay to unite in one generous effort to prove the heavenly origin, the divine influence of the spirit of democracy The power is with us; an occasion is offered for its exercise; the honor of the country, the success of our principles, require that it should be displayed.


Hope is the balm of life-the cure for woe;—
The choicest of all blessings here below:—
'Tis e'er the rich man's all,—the pauper's wealth,
The sweet restorer of the sick man's health —
It faithful dwells with us on earth the same,
Till death destroys in pain the mortal frame.


“A few days after the destruction of the steamer Ben Sherrod by fire, the body of a female richly dressed was washed ashore. Upon one of the fingers was a diamond ring, having engraved on it the motto “Remember the giver.’”—Baton Rouge Gazette,

It was a lovely morn. The early sun
Came up rejoicing, and with lavish hand
Pour'd forth a summer's light o'er land and sea.
Nature with pencil dipt in loveliness
Had thrown a dash of beauty on her brow,
And smiled and wanton'd in her coquetry.
The air was wrapt in sleep, the sunbeams cradling
On its bosom, while the melody of birds
And hum of insects was the lullaby.
Far from its western, forest, mountain spring,
Onward roll'd the noble Mississippi;
And onward still it roll'd, nor stayed its course
For night or day, for sunshine or for storm;
Time's truest emblem 1 Onward yet it press'd,
A mighty architect of nature, bearing
To the ocean's shore the countless atoms,
To lay them there and form another land,
One day to mark the page of history.
Man's noblest work was on that proud stream's bosom
Floating. Upon her decks were old and young,
The maid and gray-hair’d sire; both friend and foe,
The hated and the lov’d. And beauty too
Was there, and love, and joy, and laughing lip,
And witching smile, and hearts that never dream'd
Of aught save pleasure. Curiosity
And Hope and Selfishness were in the crowd.
There too were eyes of flashing light and cheeks
Where play'd the bloom of beauty; lips which seem'd
A treasure in themselves. It was an hour
Of thrilling interest, for homes and friends
And early scenes, where clings the heart of age,
Were left behind. On sped the noble bark,
While songs of mirth across that river swell’d,
A thousand echoes flinging back the strain.

'Tis night upon the stream. The song of mirth
Is hush'd, while from on high the moon's young beams
Come down with gentle step—serenely—still.
A fearful, horrid change comes suddenly,
A flash of glaring light is on the sky,
While shrieks and prayers and curses fill the air.
A scorching robe of fire is wrapt around

Th’ unhappy boat, and death's destroying arrow, More swift than were it wing'd by burning feathers Stript from the lightning's pinion, has sped to slay.

There was a sound of woe" and cheeks
And lips and brows were pale-hot tears fell fast,
And bosoms swell'd with anguish,_homes were sad,
While mourning robes were hurried on, and hearts
Grew faint with agony. Friend mourn'd for friend,
And husbands wept for wives, and brothers groan'd,
And children's lips were quivering with sorrow.
But there was one of lovely form, and eye
That dimm'd the lightning's flashes. She had gazed
Upon the future, till a dreamy crowd
Of love and bliss was gather'd there. She went
To meet that crowd, and perish’d by the way.

Days pass'd. Upon the river's brink was seen
That youthful form a lifeless corpse. Yet still
The smile was on her lip, and death had strove
In vain to tear the beauty from her brow.
He coveted the flashes of that eye,
And midnight saw him steal them. One sweet string,
Alas, was broken in the family harp.
A voice was hush'd that warbled like the air
When summer morn glides up from stormless sea,
And whisp'ring zephyrs chant their orisons.
Nor friend nor relative was there to weep,
Nor mark nor line to tell her tale, except
A rich and jewell'd ring upon her hand.
That ring of love! who gave 3 to whom 1 A voice
Seem'd hov'ring round it.

“Remember the giver,” in youth's sunny morning,
When life pours around thee its tide of delight,

And the signet of beauty thy cheek is adorning;
Remember me, dearest, tho' far from thy sight.

“Remember the giver,” when friends are around thee,
And twine their affections about thy fond heart;

When flattery's chaplet of roses has crown'd thee,
Remember me, dearest, nor yield to its art.

“Remember the giver,” when danger assailing
With menacing brow is uplifting its arm;

When 'neath its fierce glances thy bosom is quailing,
Remember me, dearest, I’ll save thee from harm.

“Remember the giver,” in moments of sadness;
Bid memory picture the scenes of the past,

And chase back the night with the sunlight of gladness;
Remember me, dearest, while mem'ry shall last.

“Remember the giver,” when prayer is ascending
At eve's fading twilight to our Maker above; "

With thine, my petition shall always be blending;
Remember him, dearest, who lives in thy love.

And I will remember, and nought shall dissever
The bonds of affection which bind me to thee;

Enshrin’d as my idol, this heart shall forever
Remember thee, dearest—oh, think then of me.


“Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus.”
Catullus, Carm. V.

“Love is life's end; an end but never ending;
All joys, all sweets, all happiness awarding;
Love is life's wealth, (ne'er spent but ever spending,)
More rich by giving, taking by discarding.

* * * *
Ah! should'st thou live but once love's truth to prove,
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love.”


Thus truthfully does the Latin poet Catullus, inculcate the principles of genuine Epicurism, and thus faithfully does the laureat Spenser, describe that master-passion of the soul, which has swayed men's thoughts and feelings from the day of woman's creation in Paradise till now. Philosophers have exercised their ingenuity in idle attempts to define this primum mobile of human action with its modus operandi, while poets have exhausted the hyperboles of language in the sruitless endeavor to teach men its effects, and acquaint them with its character. Philosophic subtilty and poetic fancy have both failed to mark the limits of its influence and to explain its mysteries; this delicate essence avoids the scrutiny of the sophist and escapes even the imagination of the bard, yet, though thus defying alike the researches of the student of human nature, and the more vague investigations of its own rapt votary, love is a sentiment as wide and universal as the air we breathe, penetrating through all space, pervading all objects of animate or inanimate nature. It would be foreign to my purpose to dwell upon the thousand lovely and loveable things which present themselves to the sight, and attach themselves to the affections of the pure and gentle-hearted; breathing forth tones of beauty and melody, and speaking to such, in the starry constellations that hang suspended from heaven's dark concave, as well as in the

WOL. II. 43

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