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Let the busy and the active go out, and pause for a time amid the scenes which surround them, and learn the high lesson which nature teaches in the hours of its fall. They are now ardent with all the desires of mortality; and fame, and interest, and pleasure, are displaying to them their shadowy promises: and, in the vulgar race of life, many weak and many worthless passions are too naturally engendered. Let them withdraw themselves for a time from the agitations of the world;-let them mark the desolation of summer, and listen to the winds of winter, which begin to murmur above their heads. It is a scene which, with all its power, has yet no reproach ;-it tells them, that such is also the fate to which they must come ;-that the pulse of passion must one day beat low ;-that the illusions of time must pass ;-and "that the spirit must return to Him who gave it." It reminds them, with gentle voice, of that innocence in which life was begun, and for which no prosperity of vice can make any compensation ;-and that angel who is one day to stand upon the earth, and to swear that time shall be no more," seems now to whisper to them, amid the hollow winds of the year, what manner of men they ought to be, who must meet that decisive hour.
There is an eventide in human life, a season when the eye becomes dim, and the strength decays, and when the winter of age begins to shed upon the human head its prophetic snow. It is the season of life to which the present is most analogous; and much it becomes, and much it would profit you, to mark the instructions which the season brings. The spring and the summer of your days are gone, and with them, not only the joys they knew, but many of the friends who gave them. You have entered upon the autumn of your being, and whatever may have been the profusion of your spring, or the warm intemperance of your summer, there is yet a season of stillness and of solitude which the beneficence of Heaven affords you, in which you may meditate upon the past and the future, and prepare yourselves for the mighty change which you are soon to undergo.
If it be thus you have the wisdom to use the decaying season of nature, it brings with it consolations more valuable than all the enjoyments of former days. In the long retrospect of your journey, you have seen every day the shades
of the evening fall, and every year the clouds of winter gather. But you have seen also, every succeeding day, the morning arise in its brightness, and in every succeeding year, the spring return to renovate the winter of nature. It is now you may understand the magnificent language of Heaven,-it mingles its voice with that of revelation,—it summons you, in these hours when the leaves fall, and the winter is gathering, to that evening study which the mercy of Heaven has provided in the book of salvation; and while the shadowy valley opens which leads to the abode of death, it speaks of that hand which can comfort and can save, and which can conduct to those "green pastures, and those still waters," where there is an eternal spring for the children of God. ALISON.
1.-FUNERAL EULOGIUM ON DR FRANKLIN.
FRANKLIN' is dead'.-The genius who freed America', and poured a copious stream of knowledge throughout Europe', is returned into the bosom of the Divinity`.
The sage to whom two worlds' lay claim, the man for whom science and politics' are disputing, indisputably enjoyed an elevated rank in human nature`.
The cabinets of princes have been long in the habit of notifying the death of those' who were great, only in their funeral orations. Long hath the etiquette of courts' proclaimed the mourning of hypocrisy. Nations' should wear mourning for none but their benefactors. The representatives' of nations should recommend to public homage, only those who have been the heroes of humanity'.
The Congress of America' hath ordered, in the fourteen confederate states, a mourning of two months' for the death
of Benjamin Franklin; and America is at this moment paying that tribute of veneration to one of the fathers of her constitution.
Were it not worthy of us', gentlemen, to join' in the same religious act, to pay our share of that homage now rendered in the sight of the universe, at once to the rights of man', and to the philosopher' who most contributed to extend the conquest of liberty over the face of the whole earth'?
Antiquity' would have raised altars' to that vast and mighty genius, who, for the advantage of human kind, embracing earth and heaven' in his ideas, could tame the rage of thunder and of despotism. France', enlightened and free', owes at least some testimony of remembrance and regret to one of the greatest men who ever served the cause of philosophy' and of liberty`. MIRABEAU.
2.- GENERAL WOLFE TO HIS ARMY.
I CONGRATULATE you, my brave countrymen, and fellowsoldiers, on the spirit and success with which you have executed this important part of our enterprise. The formidable heights of Abraham are now surmounted, and the city of Quebec, the object of all our toils, now stands in view before us. A perfidious enemy, who have dared to exasperate you by their cruelties, but not to oppose you on equal ground, are now constrained to face you on the open plain, without ramparts or intrenchments to shelter them.
You know too well the forces which compose their army to dread their superior numbers. A few regular troops from old France, weakened by hunger and sickness, who, when fresh, were unable to withstand British soldiers, are their general's chief dependence. Those numerous companies of Canadians, insolent, mutinous, unsteady, and ill-disciplined, have exercised his utmost skill to keep them together to this time; and as soon as their irregular ardour is damped by our firm fire, they will instantly turn their backs, and give you no farther trouble but in the pursuit. As for those savage tribes of Indians, whose horrid yells in the forest have struck many a bold heart with affright, terrible as they are with the tomahawk and scalping-knife to a flying and prostrate foe, you have experienced how little their ferocity
is to be dreaded by resolute men upon fair and open ground; you will now only consider them as the just objects of a se vere revenge for the unhappy fate of many slaughtered coun trymen.
This day puts it into your power to terminate the fatigues of a siege, which has so long employed your courage and patience. Possessed with a full confidence of the certain success which British valour must gain over such enemies, I have led you up to these steep and dangerous rocks, only solicitous to show you the foe within your reach. The impossibility of a retreat makes no difference in the situation of men resolved to conquer or die: and believe me, my friends, if your conquest could be bought with the blood of your general, he would most cheerfully resign a life which he has long devoted to his country. AIKIN
3.-SPEECH OF MR HORACE WALPOLE, 1740, IN REPROOF
OF MR PITT.
SIR, I was unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate, while it was carried on with calmness and decency, by men who do not suffer the ardour of opposition to cloud their reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred answering the gentleman, who declaimed against the bill with such fluency and rhetoric, and such vehemence of gesture; who charged the advocates for the expedients now proposed with having no regard to any interest but their own, and with making laws only to consume paper, and threatened them with the defection of their adherents, and the loss of their influence, upon this new discovery of their folly and their ignorance.-Nor, Sir, do I now answer him for any other purpose, than to remind him how little the clamour of rage and petulancy of invective contribute to the end for which this assembly is called together; how little the discovery of truth is promoted, and the security of the nation established, by pompous diction and theatrical emotion.
Formidable sounds and furious declamation, confident assertions and lofty periods, may affect the young and unexperienced; and perhaps the gentleman may have con
tracted his habits of oratory, by conversing more with those of his own age, than with such as have more opportunities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating their sentiments.
If the heat of his temper, Sir, would suffer him to attend to those whose age and long acquaintance with business give them an indisputable right to deference and superiority, he would learn in time to reason rather than declaim; and to prefer justness of argument and an accurate knowledge of facts, to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which may disturb the imagination for a moment, but leave no lasting impression on the mind. He would learn, Sir, that to accuse and prove are very different; and that reproaches, unsupported by evidence, affect only the character of him that utters them. Excursions of fancy and flights of oratory are indeed pardonable in young men, but in no other and it would surely contribute more, even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to speak (that of depreciating the conduct of administration), to prove the inconveniences and injustice of this bill, than barely to assert them, with whatever magnificence of language, or appearance of zeal, honesty, or compassion.
4.-MR PITT'S REPLY.
SIR, The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honourable gentleman has with such spirit and decency charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of those who continue ignorant in spite of age and experi
Whether youth can be attributed to any man as a reproach, I will not, Sir, assume the province of determining; but surely age may justly become contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appear to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and in whom age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults.