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horrid hell-hounds of war! Spain can no longer boast pre-eminence in barbarity. She armed herself with blood-hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless, loose the dogs of war against our countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can sanctify humanity. I solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon the infamous procedure the indelible stigma of public abhorrence. More particularly I call upon the holy prelates of our religion, to do away this iniquity; let them perform a lustration to purify the country from this deep and deadly sin.

ON SLANDER.

I am one of those who believe that the heart of the wilful and the deliberate libeller is blacker than that of the highway robber, or of one who commits the crime of midnight arson. The man who plunders on the highway, may have the semblance of an apology for what he does. An affectionate wife may demand subsistence; a circle of children raise to him the supplicating hand for food. He may be driven to the desperate act by the high mandate of imperative necessity. The mild features of the husband and the father may intermingle with those of the robber and soften the roughness of the shade. But the robber of character plunders that which "not enricheth him," though it make his neighbor "poor indeed." The man who at the midnight hour consumes his neighbor's dwelling, does him an injury which perhaps is not irreparable. Industry may rear another habitation. The storm may indeed descend upon him until charity open a neighboring door: the rude winds of heaven may whistle around his uncovered family. But he looks forward to better days; he has yet a hook to hang a hope upon. No such consolation cheers the heart of him whose character has been torn from him. If innocent, he may look, like

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to feel that this world is to him a wilderness. For whither shall he go ? Shall he dedicate himself to the service of his country? But will his country receive him? Will she employ in her counsels, or in her armies, the man at whom the "slow unmoving finger of scorn" is pointed? Shall he betake himself to the fireside? The story of his disgrace will enter his own doors before him. And can he bear, think you, can he bear the sympathizing agonies of a distressed wife? Can he endure the formidable presence of scrutinizing, sneering domestics? Will his children receive instruction from the lips of a disgraced father? Gentlemen, I am not ranging on fairy ground. I am telling the plain story of my client's wrongs. By the ruthless hand of malice his character has been wantonly massacred; and he now appears before a jury of his country for redress. Will you deny him this redress?—is character valuable? On this point I will not insult with argument. There are certain things, to argue which is treason against nature. The Author of our being did not intend to leave this point afloat at the mercy of opinion, but with his own hand has he kindly planted in the soul of man an instinctive love of character. This high sentiment has no affinity to pride. It is the ennobling quality of the soul: and if we have hitherto been elevated above the ranks of surrounding creation, human nature owes its elevation to the love of character. It is the love of character for which the poet has sung, the philosopher toiled, the hero bled. It is the love of character which wrought miracles at ancient Greece; the love of character is the eagle on which Rome rose to empire. And it is the love of character animating the bosom of her sons, on which America must depend in those approaching crises that may "try men's souls." Will a jury weaken this our nation's hope? Will they by their verdict pronounce to the youth of our country, that character is scarce worth possessing? We read of that philosophy which can smile over the destruction of property of that religion which enables

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and complacency to his murderers. But it is not in the soul of man to bear the laceration of slander. The philosophy which could bear it, we should despise. The religion which could bear it, we should not despisebut we should be constrained to say, that its kingdom was not of this world

ROLLA'S ADDRESS.

My brave associates, partners of my toils, my feelings and my fame. Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts? No, you have judged as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude ye. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which in a war like this can animate their minds and ours. They, by a strange phrenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder and extended rule; we-for our country, our altars and our homes! They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate; we serve a country which we love-a God whom we adore. Wher'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress; wher'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts and free us from the yoke of error. Yes, they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice and pride. They offer us their protection; yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs, covering and devouring them. They call on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise. Be our plain answer this: The throne we honor is the people's choice; the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy; the faith we follow, teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind and die

with hope of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them too, we seek no change, and

BRUTUS' HARANGUE ON THE DEATH OF CESAR.

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Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers!-Hear me for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, } that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious-I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? if any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? if any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that would not love his country? if any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply

None! Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.

Here comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not?-With this I depart-that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

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ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CESAR'S BODY.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen! Lend me your ears.
I come to bury Cæsar not to praise him.
The evil that men do, lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar! Noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
For Brutus is an honorable man,

So are they all, all honorable men,
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.-

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honorable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown;

Which he did thrice refuse: Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And sure, he is an honorable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ;
But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once; not without causé;
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me,
My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar;
And I must pause till it come back to me.
But yesterday the word of Cæsar, might

Have stood against the world! Now lies he there
And none so poor to do him reverence.

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