an application was again made to Congress for relief. Mr. Baldwin's Tariff was the consequence. Mr. Clay again appeared as the champion of home industry, and greatly distinguished himself by his zeal and eloquence on the occasion.

With the same ability he advocated the measures which finally prevailed on Great Britain to let us into a fair participation with the vessels of that power in her West India trade. He has indeed on all occasions, throughout his whole career, evinced an anxious desire to promote the interests of foreign commerce, without neglecting those of internal industry, which it is his opinion should ever be most sedulously cherished.

Mr. Clay opposed the Florida Treaty, not because he was inimical to the acquisition of Florida or to the settlement of affairs with Spain; but because he thought it unnecessarily sacrificed Texas. His speech on this subject affords a very luminous view of the whole merits of that question.

Perhaps at no one session, was Mr. Clay more distinguish. ed, than during the remnant of the last in which he served before the present one. It was then that all his efforts were crowned with complete success in the cause of Spanish America; then also did he so powerfully contribute to allay the storm by which this happy country, this great nation, and all its hopes were threatened with destruction. He arrived in the month of January, when more than the half of a short session was exhausted, and all efforts to reconcile the contending parties on the Missouri question had proved unavailing. The warning voice of the bland and amiable Lowndes was disregarded; all business was at an end; the Missouri question put aside every thing. All thoughts were bent on it. The opposing parties resembled two hostile armies drawn up in battle array, and ready in a moment to engage in mortal combat; and the Nation seemed threatened immediately with the terrible scourge of a civil war. Mr. Clay dedicated all his powers night and day, in the House, and out of the House, to avert the impending calamity. The result is fresh in the recollection of all. The newspapers at that period, announced, that "Mr. Clay had saved what Washington had achieved." Such was the sentiment and such the impression of the public, as to the importance of his exertions; and it was uni

versally believed that no other could have effected the reconciliation. It was not to promote slavery, that he thus struggled. Many years before (1799 as already stated) he was in favour of gradual emancipation in his own State, where he then thought it might be safely effected. He was in favour of what he believed to be the right of the States; and it was his opinion that this unhappy subject of slavery could not be introduced into Congress without danger of the most disastrous consequences. At this Session he also made a speech of great merit in favour of the Bankrupt Bill.

During the greater part of the time he has served in the House of Representatives, he has been unremitting in his exertions, in behalf of the great Cumberland road, from the conviction that such a National road will tend greatly to bind together the Eastern and Western sections of the Republic. The spontaneous gratitude of the people along the road, has erected a monument to him, and perpetuated his name in that of a flourishing village.

Mr. Clay declined an election to the seventeenth Congress. To the present Congress, the eighteenth, he was elected without opposition; and on his appearance in the House of Representatives, on the first of Dec. 1825, he was once more elected Speaker by the first ballot. When he resigned the Chair, at the second session of the sixteenth Congress, the House was employed three days in electing its Speaker; and on the meeting of the seventeenth Congress, it was employed two days. But such was the general satisfaction that Mr. Clay always gave, such the dignity and ability with which he presided over that body, that in no instance was more than one ballot necessary to determine the election in his favour. His speech on Internal Improvements during the present session, is considered the best ever offered to the public on that subject. His exertions in the Greek cause were animated and zealous, as might have been expected in a cause so congenial to his well known liberality and philanthropy of principles and feelings. On the Tariff, so far as its discussion has yet advanced, he has also exerted himself powerfully in behalf of domestic industry. This is indeed a topic on which he has often delighted the House of Rep resentatives with some of the finest effusions of eloquence that ever flowed within its walls.

It has been remarked as an honourable proof of Mr. Clay's independence of spirit, that during the whole time he has had a seat in the House of Representatives, except the second Session of the sixteenth Congress, in which he was present only from about the 16th of January to the 4th of March, he was its Speaker; and consequently might have avoided taking any decisive part in its debates, or even voting on the questions which agitated the Nation, without subjecting himself to the slightest censure. But he is too conscientious in the discharge of his duty to shrink from any responsibility which a zealous and faithful adherence to it may incur. On the Bank question, as has been before observed, he might have been silent; but to entertain a change of opinion without frankly avowing it, never suited the open manliness of his character. Accordingly in the committee of the whole, where he alone had the right to debate, he not only promptly and unhesitatingly avowed his sentiments, but took a decided and leading part in the discussion, although he knew that it was at the hazard of his popularity, His Country's good, its liberty, its prosperity, its honour, and its fame, are the great and binding objects which always command his warmest wishes, and his most zealous exertions; and in competition with which personal considerations are with him as nothing.

Mr. Clay's personal appearance is much in his favour as a public speaker. He is about six feet high, straight, and although inclined to slenderness, yet of very pleasing proportions. His hair is light coloured; his forehead high, and rather retiring. His eyes are blue, and slightly sunk in their sockets; his nose is somewhat prominent, and his mouth a little larger than usual. His cheek bones are high, and his cheeks thin; his face is therefore narrow, but of a good proportion in length. His countenance taken altogether strongly expresses energy, firmness, and intelligence; and his whole deportment, although dignified and commanding, is yet affable, agreeable and easy.

When he rises to speak, he generally stands erect; but as he advances with his subject, and becomes animated, which he soon docs, his countenance brightens, his gestures become active and exceedingly impressive, evidently flowing naturally and spontaneously from the ernestness with which he urges his opi

nions, and therefore are always appropriate, and pleasing. Over his voice he has the most perfect command, being capable of modulating it to every degree of force and emphasis necessary to give effect to his language and sentiments.

We may sum up the character of this illustrious American, by saying, that as a patriot no man has ever evinced more sincerity; as a statesman, none more sagacity and promptitude; as a philanthropist, none has been more importantly active and useful; and as an orator it would be difficult to find one in any country by whom soundness, brilliancy, and force, have been more happily united or more effectively displayed.

FOR THE AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

THE POOR STUDENT.......A DRAMATIC SKETCH

IN THREE PARTS-PART FIRST.

Scene. Small chamber in a cottage-A lattice with woodbine, through which the moon shines-Summer, Midnight-The Poor Student sitting by a dying lamp.

SEYMOUR.

Why do thy watches speed so fast, sweet Night?
Why does the lamp grow dim upon my vigils,
And the sad spirit falter, when the wings

Of the imagination would go on?

Why is the flesh weak, and the eye so dim
With over-watching, and yet know no rest?
'Tis that the spirit hath not strength to bear
The burthen of our gross mortality!

'Tis that the heart bows in its solitude

To patient study and its midnight care;

And, like the silver lute-chord. when o'erstrained,
Wearied by long and frequent watchings, breaks.
Sad is th' inheritance of pain, that waits

GER.

The child of genius and the son of song!
Sad the return for unrepining toil,
And wasting study o'er the midnight lamp!
The broken spirit, and the ambitious pride

Of buoyant youth crush'd down to earth forever;
The troubled eye, the brow of pale cold beauty,
The glow of brighter hope decaying there;

And feverish dreams, that haunt the couch of sleep;
'These are the seals of genius, and the crowns
Of thorns, with woven flowers, her sons must wear
Upon their aching brows until they bleed.
And thou art beautiful, thou waning moon,
Whose silver lamp is hung in yon blue sky,
Shedding a glow of melancholy light!
And I have lov'd thee in my saddest hour,
When other loves had faded; and in thee
Have found a pow'r to soothe, when was no other,-
A loneliness, that answer'd to my own.

And thou art far upon thine orbit, whilst
Around thee countless hosts of stars are met,
And rolling spheres are at their midnight hymns.
Sweet through the open'd lattice, and around
The quiv'ring woodbine the cool night breeze plays;
And fans with trembling wing my feverish cheek.
Nature looks lovely; and the moonlight sleeps
On the blue distant mountain, whilst the voice
Of dashing waters from the Summer vale
Breaks on my ear. And this is beautiful!
But I am sick at heart, and faint!-

SEYMOUR AND GERTRUDE.

O Seymour,

Still do thy vigils keep thine eyes from sleep
Still does the wasting lamp shine dim upon
The midnight page, that soon shall be to thee
The chronicle of sorrow and disease!

Cease from thy study,-'tis the hour of sleep,
And thou hast need of sleep, for thou art weary,

SEY. Gertrude, kind Gertrude, slumber will not seal
My aching eyes, until the night is spent
And the gray morning has begun its watches.
Why then should I lie down upon my couch
Of restless fever, where my limbs will tremble,
My lips be dry and parch'd, and my brow burn?
No! at the open lattice I will stand,

And gaze on nature with her moonlight veit