which they had seen loaded with ball, they declared their intention "to fight it out." This intrepid officer then took out his watch, and told his men to hold their pieces aimed at the convicts, but not to fire till they had orders; then turning to the prisoners he said, "you must leave this hall-I give you three minutes to decide if at the end of that time a man remains, he shall be shot dead."

No situation of greater interest than this can be conceived. At one end of the hall a fearful multitude of the most desperate and powerful men in creation, waiting for the assault-at the other, a little band of disciplined men, waiting with arms presented, and ready, upon the least motion or sign, to begin the carnage-and their tall and imposing commander, holding up his watch to count the lapse of three minutes, given as the reprieve to the lives of numbers. No poet or painter can conceive of a spectacle of more dark and terrible sublimity-no human heart can conceive a situation of more appalling suspense.

For two minutes not a person or a muscle was moved, not a sound was heard in the unwonted stillness of the prison, except the laboured breathings of the infuriated wretches, as they began to pant, between fear and revenge -at the expiration of two minutes, during which they had faced the ministers of death, with unblenching eyes, two or three of those in the rear and nearest to the farther entrance went slowly out-a few more followed the example, dropping out quietly and deliberately, and before half of the last minute had gone, every man was struck by the panic and crowded for an exit; and the hall was cleared as if by magic. Thus the steady firmness of moral force, and the strong effect of determination, acting deliberately, awed the most savage men, and suppressed a scene of carnage, which would have instantly followed the least precipitancy or exertion of physical force.

LESSON LIV.

Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis.

ENGLAND may as well dam up the waters of the Nile, with bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and firm in this youthful land, than where she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like those against which we now contend, have cost one king of England his life, another his crown-and they may yet cost a third his most flourishing colonies.

We are

To the

We are two millions-one fifth fighting men. bold and vigorous, and we call no man master. nation, from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance; but it must not, and it never can be extorted.

Some have sneeringly asked, "Are the Americans too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper?" No! America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds, implies the right to take a thousand; and what must be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust? True the spectre is now small; but the shadow he casts before him, is huge enough to darken all this fair land.

Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude, which we owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert.

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom in our teeth, because the faggot and torch were behind us. We have waked this new world from its savage lethargy; forests have been prostrated in our path; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics, and the fires in our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid, than the increase of our wealth and population.

And do we owe all this to the kind succour of the mother country? No! we owe it to the tyranny, that

drove us from her, to the pelting storms, which invigorated our helpless infancy.

But perhaps others will say, "We ask no money from your gratitude, we only demand that you should pay your own expenses.' And who I pray, is to judge of their necessity? Why, the King-(and with all due reverence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant subjects, as little as he does the language of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concerning the frequency of these demands? The ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly expended? The cabinet behind the throne.

In every instance, those who take, are to judge for those who pay; if this system is suffered to go into operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and dew do not depend upon parliament; otherwise they would soon be taxed and dried.

But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. But we will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs, that a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it.

LESSON LV.

Of Anger.-UPHAM.

THE precept of St. Paul, "Be ye angry, and sin not,” reminds us, that this passion is liable to exceed due limits, and also that we ought to cherish such considerations, as are likely to check and properly control its influence. -When we are angry, we should consider, in the first place, that we may have mistaken the motives of the per

son, whom we imagine to have injured us. Perhaps the oversight or crime, which we allege against him, was mere inadvertence. And it is possible, that his intentions were favourable towards us, instead of being, as we suppose, of a contrary character.

We should consider, secondly, that the indulgence of this passion on slight occasions renders us contemptible in the sight of all around us; it excites no pity, nothing but feelings of scorn; and, therefore, instead of being a punishment to the cause or supposed cause of the affront, only increases our own misery.

Let it be remembered also, that when the mind is much agitated by this passion, it is incapable of correct judgment; actions, considered as the indications of feeling and character, do not appear in their true light; and the moral susceptibility is overborne and rendered useless. The saying of Socrates to his servant, "I would beat you, if I were not angry," although uttered by a Heathen, is not unworthy of the Christian philosopher.

There is another consideration, which ought to prevent the indulgence of this passion, and to allay its effects; It is, that all have offended against the Supreme Being, and stand in need of pardon from Him. Every one, who knows his own heart, must see, and feel himself to be a transgressor. How pitiful is it, then, for man to talk largely of satisfaction and revenge, when he is every moment dependant on the clemency and forgiveness of a Being, whom he has disobeyed and dishonoured!

There is a species of anger, termed PEEVISHNESS or FRETFULNESS, which often interrupts the peace and happiness of life. It differs from ordinary anger in being excited by very trifling circumstances, and in a strange facility of inflicting its effects on every body, and every thing within its reach. The peevish man has met with some trifling disappointment, (it matters but little what it is,) and the serenity of whole days is disturbed; no smiles are to be seen; every thing, whether animate or inanimate, rational or irrational, is out of place, and falls under the rebuke of this fretful being.

LESSON LVI.

Nancy and Rose.

Nancy. There is no bearing it, Rose, I wonder you can bear it!

Rose. Bear what, Nancy?

Nancy. To have my children, and your children, faulted as they are by Bet Shaughness. She scolded them, and that was not enough; but she beat my Jem, and your Larry, because her dirty brat said they took his ball.

Rose. Did they take his ball? I would be very sorry for that! If children rob their play-fellows, what will they do when they are men?

Nancy. O, Rose, you are too particular! What great matter if they took his ball?

Rose. Great matter indeed! one can't be too particular in making children honest.

Nancy. Well, they did not take his ball then. I saw it, with my two eyes, roll into the ditch.

Rose. Now I'm easy.

Nancy. But I'm not easy. I'll be revenged on her for beating my child.

Rose. It was very wrong and silly of her to mind what her child said; but it is not worth taking notice of. Never think any thing about children falling out. Poor things! they'll be out, and in again in a minute. Don't harden their little hearts, by taking part with one against another.

Nancy. Bet's a bad neighbour! Did you hear what she said of you?

Rose. I strive not to deserve to have any of my neighbours speak ill of me; but if they do I had rather not hear it. There is nothing in this world worth losing one's peace of mind for; and I should not have much peace, if I watched what people said of me. If they say wrong, it is the worse for themselves; but I pray that nothing may make me keep ill will to any one; for then I think I could not lie down in comfort to sleep, or rise up pleasantly to work, or do any thing as I ought, if my mind was poisoned with spite.