vehement gestures, nothing of that war-horse spirit of his coadjutor, Patrick Henry; his was the smooth, but manly current of thought. It was philosophy, reasoning upon rights, and explaining duties, and teaching his hearers how to prepare for exigencies. He saw all things in a clear light, without enthusiasm or agitation. His speaking resembled his writing: his lines were all straight, his letters uniformly made, his spelling accurate, and his punctuation perfect. He was never off. his guard; but selfpossessed, he spoke until he was satisfied that he was fully understood, and then he left his arguments to work out their proper effect, without showing any anxiety for himself or them; perhaps there was never a man who spoke so often, that spoke so much to the purpose as Mr. Madison. His eloquence was one of those deep, silent, regular flowing rivers, that has no narrows, shoals, or cataracts, but winds its way in peace and dignity to the ocean. He possessed such an equanimity of temper, that he was always ready for debate, and always acquitted himself well; and if he did not rise so high in his eloquence, at times, as those who wait for inspiration, he never, like them, was liable to disappoint his hearers by inane voices, when the spirit ceased to agitate them. Mr. Madison is still living, the Nestor among orators.

The eloquence of the patriot John Adams was altogether different from either of these men. His mind was full of classick learning, and his soul for ever animated with political prophecies, and his heart was in his mouth. He came to his subject sword in hand, and carried his purposes by storm rather than by siege. He saw his object clearly, and came to it directly. There were no Ionian blandishments in his style; no Corinthian beauties; use, durability, and strength, were the components of his elocution. When he spoke, the timid grew brave, and the cunning fled, for they knew he would cut the Gordian knot without wasting his time to show his ingenuity by untying it. His imagination was never diseased by evil forebodings; he declared that America ought, could, and would be free. To this he at all times came directly, without admitting contingencies or calculating upon misfortunes. He knew the character of the people, and he trusted in it for the result. He suggested to his native state, more than a year before the declaration of independence, the propriety of attacking the enemy in the vitals, by seizing their property on the high seas. The project was astounding even to his brave countrymen; and one of his compeers, in that dark hour when it was made known, has often told me that he never should forget the time, the subject, the manner, or the man. Adams declared that the glory of America was to be on the seas; and with more than Delphick eloquence raised his voice for wooden

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walls. The naval glories of the world came up in intense visions to his mind, and he knew, by an every day observation, that the mariners of his country had the bone and muscle, the heart, the skill, and the indomitable courage, to make “their home upon the deep." Not a voice in the legislature was raised against his plans; and every old cannon that was embedded in the clay, or secured as a highway corner-post, started from its quietude, and was harnessed on some frail barque for the sea-fight. Was not this eloquence Demosthenian? It perhaps wanted something of the Athenian polish, but it had the true effect.

The eloquence of Alexander Hamilton differed from all the preceding orators we have named. He arose deeply impressed with his subject; and often, in the onset, seemed a little agitated, a slight tinge of modesty crossed his cheek, but it was only the fear of himself, the only fear a man of genius and of learning can ever have, when master of his subject. He made as few points in his case as possible, stated these in a clear and forcible manner, and spread them before the assembly, court, or jury, with great perspicuity and elegance. He never descended below the dignity of argument to catch popular applause, nor ever suffered himself to be borne away from the course of his reasonings by irritation or passion. There was temperance, 'method, and judgement in all his speeches; and when he closed, there was nothing to mend, and but little to add. But the great charm of his eloquence, after all, was the conviction, in every mind, of the speaker's sincerity; there was a window in his breast, and all the pulses of his heart were distinctly seen, beating in the regular movements of honour: His eloquence was fascinating as well as commanding; his person was not large, but dignified and graceful. The compass of his voice was extensive; its tones were not loud or vociferating, but his enunciation was so clear that he had the advantage over many, in the largest assemblies, whose lungs were much stronger than his. No one, whatever might be his grade of intellect, ever heard him without delight; and no good judge, without feeling that he had been listening to a gentleman, a scholar, and a patriot, as well as an orator. He died in the prime of manhood; and the tears of his friends and political enemies trickled together on his grave, as a tribute to the mighty dead.

Gouverneur Morris was a splendid orator. His mind was prolifick, his fancy excursive, and his information extensive. He had read books attentively, but men more thoroughly. He was well acquainted with French literature and the academicians, and had caught something of their animation and literary fervour. His figures were beautiful, his sentimental touches delicate and thrilling. No orator ever made a more successful lunge at the heart than Mor

ris, for he pierced at will. If Hamilton was the Zenophon among our intellectual lights, as he has been called, for the neatness, purity, and perspicuity of his productions surely his friend. Gouverneur

walls. The naval glories of the world came up in intense visions to his mind, and he knew, by an every day observation, that the mariners of his country had the hana and muscle the heart, the

manhood; and the tears of his friends and political enemies trickled together on his grave, as a tribute to the mighty dead.

Gouverneur Morris was a splendid orator. His mind was prolifick, his fancy excursive, and his information extensive. He had read books attentively, but men more thoroughly. He was well acquainted with French literature and the academicians, and had caught something of their animation and literary fervour. His figures were beautiful, his sentimental touches delicate and thrilling. No orator ever made a more successful lunge at the heart than Mor

ris, for he pierced at will. If Hamilton was the Zenophon among our intellectual lights, as he has been called, for the neatness, purity, and perspicuity of his productions, surely his friend, Gouverneur Morris, ought to be called the Isocrates among them. He had the same splendour of imagination, and poised his sentences with the same art, that is seen in the orations of "the old man eloquent." Morris's eloquence was well suited to the deliberative assembly, and to those occasions in which the heart is deeply interested. His oration over the body of Hamilton is admirable. At that moment, when the bleeding corse was before the eyes of his countrymen, and a nation's moans were wafted on every wind, from north to south, from east to west, through the country; when almost any extravagance would have been tolerated in this paroxysm of mind; for at this event the deep lamentations of the soul were commingled with the breath of execration, and there is no wild-fire like this; yet then the pathos of the orator was subdued, chastened, and harmonized to the mild and hallowed doctrines of christianity:—such exhibitions are the triumphs of the god-like art, of controlling tempers, and of conquering hearts.

He lived in republican struggles; in the sunshine of royalty; in the uproar of popular fury; and then in the calm of personal safety and national tranquillity; and from all drew lessons of experience, and through all carried the sound discretion of a high-minded man. Fisher Ames has been, perhaps, more celebrated as an orator than any y other A American, except Patrick Henry; but it is not our object to make comparisons between our distinguished men who have graced the annals of our eloquence. The person of Ames was tall, thin, and interesting; his face was not what might be called handsome, but agreeable, and full of soul. The style of his eloquence was flowing, warm, and copious, and certainly partook more of the Roman than of the Grecian orator. His manner was bland, but earnest, and his whole demeanour calculated to attract the attention of all eyes. His voice was musical, and he had the command of it from the highest to the lowest note, and in all its variations it was free from monotony or false tone; for a sweet voice, he had less of sibilation than most of our orators, an evil that foreigners complain of in our language. His imagination was creative, and at his bidding new scenes arose, new beings lived, increased as he chose, and faded away at his will. He struck his hand across the chords of the hearts of his audience, and all was harmonious to his touch; but his plaintive measures were most congenial to his mind; he had nothing dark or sullen in his constitution, but there was a soft and gentle gloom that often intermingled with the light of his mind, which gave the shade of the sanctuary to the outpourings of his heart.