infinitely pleased with, and which Plutarch ascribes to Heraclitus.

3. That all men whilst they are awake are in one common world; but that each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own. The waking man is conversant in the world of nature; when he sleeps he retires to a private world that is particular to himself. There seems something in this consideration that intimates to us a natural grandeur and perfection in the soul, which is rather to be admired than explained.

4. I must not omit that argument for the excellency of the soul, which I have seen quoted out of Tertullian, namely, its power of divining in dreams. That several such divinations have been made, none can question, who believes the Holy Writings, or who has but the least degree of a common historical faith; there being innumerable instances of this nature in several authors, both ancient and modern, sacred and profane.

5. Whether such dark presages, such visions of the night, proceed from any latent power in the soul, during this her state of abstraction, or from any communication with the Supreme Being, or from any operation of subordinate spirits, has been a great dispute among the learned; the matter of fact is, I think, incontestable, and has been looked upon as such by the greatest writers, who have been never suspected either of superstition or enthusiasm.

6. I do not suppose, that the soul in these instances is entirely loose and unfettered from the body; it is sufficient, if she is not so far sunk and immersed in matter, nor entangled and perplexed in her operations, with such motions of blood and spirits, as when she actuates the machine in its waking hours. The corporeal union is slackened enough to give the mind more play. gathered within herself, and recovers that broken and weakened, when she operates with the body.

The soul seems spring which is more in concert

7. The speculations I have here made, if they are not arguments, they are at least strong intimations, not only of the excellency of a human soul, but of its independence on the body; and if they do not prove, do at least confirm, these two great points, which are established by many other reasons that are altogether unanswerable. ADDISON.

LESSON LXXVIII.

The Fearlessness of Conscious Innocence.

Extract from the Speech of Robert Emmet, before sentence of death was pronounced upon him

1. My Lord, You ask me what I have to say, why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me according to law? I have nothing to say, that can alter your predetermination, or that will become me to say with any view to the mitigation of that sentence, which you are here to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests me more than life, and which you have laboured to destroy. I have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny, which has been heaped upon it.

2. I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France! and for what end? It is alleged, that I wished to sell the independence of my country! And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? And is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No; I am no emissary-my ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country-not in power, not in profit, but in the glory of the achieve

ment!

3. Sell my country's independence to France! and for what? A change of masters? No; but for ambition! Oh, my country! was it personal ambition that influenced me had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself amongst the proudest of your oppressors.

4. My country was my idol-to it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment, and for it I now offer up my life. No, my lord, I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, its joint partner and perpetrator in patricide, whose rewards are the ignominy of existing with an exterior of splendour, and a consciousness of depravity.

5. Connection with France was, indeed, intended-but only so far as mutual interest would sanction or require;

were they to assume any authority inconsistent with the purest independence, it would be the signal for their destruction. Were the French to come as invaders, or enemies uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should oppose them to the utmost of my strength.

6. Yes, my countrymen, I should advise you to meet them on the beach, with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. I would meet them with all the destructive fury of war, and I would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their boats, before they had contaminated the soil of my country.

7. If they succeeded in landing, and if forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dispute every inch of ground, raze every house, burn every blade of grass-the last spot in which the hope of freedom should desert me, there would I hold, and the last intrenchment of liberty should be my grave.

8. I have been charged with that importance, in the ef forts to emancipate my country, as to be considered the key-stone of the combination of Irishmen, or, as your lordship expressed it, "the life and blood of the conspiracy.

9. You do me honour overmuch-you have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior; there are men engaged in this conspiracy, who are not only superior to me, but even to your own conceptions of yourself, my lord-men, before the splendour of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves dishonoured to be called your friends-who would not disgrace themselves by shaking your blood-stained hand-Here he was interrupted.]

10. What, my lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to that scaffold, which that tyranny, of which you are only the intermediary executioner, has erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that has and will be shed in this struggle of the oppressed against the oppressorr-shall you tell me this, and must I be so very a slave as not to repel it?

11. I, who fear not to approach the Omnipotent Judge, to answer for the conduct of my whole life--am I to be appalled and falsified by a mere remnant of mortality hereby you, too, who, if it were possible to collect all the in

nocent blood that you have shed, in your unhallowed min istry, in one great reservoir, your lordship might swim in it.

12. My lord, you seem impatient for the sacrifice-the blood, for which you thirst, is not congealed by the artifi cial terrors which surround your victim: it circulates warm ly and unruffled through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous, that they cry to Heaven.

13. Be yet patient! I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my cold and silent grave: my lamp of life is nearly extinguished: my race is run: the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world; it is the charity of its silence.

14. Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man, who knows my motives, dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be writtenI HAVE DONE!

LESSON LXXIX.

Burial of Sir John Moore.*

1. Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

2. We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moon-beam's misty light,
And the lantern, dimly burning.

3. No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, we bound him;
But he lay, like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.

• Who fell in the battle of Corunna, in Spain, 1808.

4. Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

5. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe would be rioting over his head,
And we far away on the billow.

6. But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock told the hour for retiring;
And we heard, by the distant random gun,
That the foe was suddenly firing.

7. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But left him alone with his glory.

C. WOLFE.

LESSON LXXX.

The Resistance of the Colonies Advocated.
Extract from Patrick Henry's Speech.

1. Mr. President,-I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House?

2. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir: it will prove a snare to your feet; suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation?

3. Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the imple