5. For, can any thing be more striking and sublime, than the idea of an imperial republic, spreading over an extent of territory more immense than the empire of the Cæsars, in the accumulated conquest of a thousand years—without præfects, or proconsuls, or publicans-founded in the maxims of common sense-employing within itself no arms but those of reasonand known to its subjects only by the blessings it bestows or perpetuates, yet capable of directing, against a foreign foe, all the energies of a military despotism,-a republic, in which men are completely insignificant, and principles and laws exercise, throughout its vast dominion, a peaceful and irresist ible sway, blending in one divine harmony such various habits and conflicting opinions, and mingling in our institutions the light of philosophy with all that is dazzling in the associations of heroic achievement and extended domination, and deepBeated and formidable power.

LEGARE.

68. CATO'S SPEECH OVER HIS DEAD SON.

[With a heroic but dignified expression.]

HANKS to the gods! my boy has done his duty.

TH

Welcome, my son! Here set him down, my friends
Full in my sight; that I may view at leisure

The bloody corse, and count those glorious wounds.
How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue !
Who would not be that youth ?-what pity is it
That we can die but once to serve our country!
Why sits this sadness on your brow, my friends?
I should have blush'd if Cato's house had stood
Secure, and flourish'd in a civil war.-
Porcius, behold thy brother! and remember,
Thy life is not thy own when Rome demands it!
When Rome demands !-but Rome is now no more!
The Roman empire's fall'n I-(Oh! curs'd ambition !)—
Fall'n into Cæsar's hands! Our great forefathers

Had left him naught to conquer but his country

Porcius, come hither to me !—Ah! my son,
Despairing of success,

Let me advise thee to withdraw, betimes,
To our paternal seat, the Sabine field,

Where the great censor toil'd with his own hands,
And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd

In humble virtues and a rural life.

There live retired: content thyself to be
Obscurely good.

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honor is a private station!

Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,
Know, there are ships prepared by my command-
Their sails already op'ning to the winds,-
That shall convey you to the wish'd-for port.
The conqueror draws near-once more, farewell!
If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet

In happier climes, and on a safer shore,
Where Cæsar never shall approach us more!
There, the brave youth with love of virtue fired,
Who greatly in his country's cause expired,
Shall know he conquer'd! The firm patriot there,
Who made the welfare of mankind his care,
Tho' still by faction, vice and fortune cross'd,
Shall find the generous labor was not lost.

ADDISON.

IN

69. WHO IS THERE TO MOURN?

N the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed by some Indians on certain land adventurers on the river of Ohio. The whites undertook to punish this outrage in a sunmary way. They attacked travelling and hunting parties of

the Indians, having their women and children with them, and murdered many. Among these were the family of Logan, a chief celebrated in peace and war, and long distinguished as the friend of the whites. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance.

2. He accordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants. But, lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrusted, from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent, by a messenger, the following speech to be delivered to Lord Dun

more.

3. Of this speech Jefferson says:-"I may challenge the whole orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, and of any more eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to produce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan, a Mingo chief."

4. "I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.'

5. "I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in coldblood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace': but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear: Logan never felt fear: he will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one."

LOGAN.

70. BLACK HAWK'S ADDRESS TO GENERAL STREET.

γου

OU have taken me prisoner, with all my warriors. I am much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to hold out much longer, and give you more trouble before I surrendered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your last general understands Indian fighting. I determined to rush on you, and fight you face to face. I fought hard. But your guns were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees in winter.

2. My warriors fell around me: it began to look dismal: I saw my evil day at hand. The sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men. They will do with him as they wish. But he can stand torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian.

3. He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, the squaws and pappooses, against white men, who came, year after year, to cheat them and take away their lands. You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white men. They ought to be ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians, and drive them from their homes. They smile in the face of the poor Indians to cheat them. They shake them by the hand to gain their confidence, to make them drunk, and to deceive them.

4. We told them to let us alone, and keep away from us; but they followed on, and beset our paths, and they coiled themselves among us, like the snake. They poisoned us by their touch. We were not safe. We lived in danger. We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our father. We

were encouraged. His great council gave us fair words and big promises; but we got no satisfaction: things were grow ing worse. There were no deer in the forest. The opossum and beaver were filed. The springs were drying up, and our squaws and pappooses without victuals to keep them from starving.

5. We called a great council, and built a large fire. The spirit of our fathers arose and spoke to us to avenge our wrongs or die. We set up the war-whoop, and dug up the tomahawk; our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk swelled high in his bosom when he led his warriors to battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world of spirits. contented. He has done his duty. His father will meet him

there, and commend him.

6. Farewell, my nation! Black Hawk tried to save you, and avenge your wrongs. He drank the blood of some of the whites. He has been taken prisoner, and his plans are stopped. He can do no more. He is near his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. Farewell to Black Hawk!

71. THE INDIAN HUNTER.

HEN the summer harvest was gather'd in,

WH

And the sheaf of the gleaner grew white and thin,

And the ploughshare was in its furrow left,

Where the stubble land had been lately cleft,

An Indian hunter, with unstrung bow,

Look'd down where the valley lay stretch'd below.

II.

He was a stranger, and all that day

Had been out on the hills, a perilous way,
But the foot of the deer was far and fleet,
And the wolt kept aloof from the hunter's feet,
And bitter feelings passed o'er him then,
As he stood by the populous haunts of men.