towards freedom-absolute, endless free- becomes the spirit of mind collective and dom; a freedom which permits homage to universal. Thought is free; it kindles a love God, only because his power and attributes of its own freedom. Genius scales the batdemand it with a monarch's voice-which tlements of earth, and with its every footsuffers obedience to laws and institutions of earth, only as they are absolute in character, and essential to social existence.

fall, it wakes a longing for its own glittering and glorious pathway; a longing which steals over the whole spirit of man, and renHere we come in contact with all forms of ders doubly irksome all political restraints oppression, social or political; and here is unsanctioned by reason, and unsupported revealed most clearly the puerile weakness by right. This, then, is the free tendency of physical force in collision with moral of literature-its power to jar off old prejutruth. Go look over the chequered path of dices, to divest the mind of local associahuman history! what are the scenes that tions, to turn it, for the time, from all ideas greet us on every hand? Man, immortal of social position, or of an overruling politiman, striving to bind the spiritual with the cal power, and induce it to think freely, orimaterial And how prospers this novel ginally, consecutively, and profoundly. In work? Where is the age or clime in which such a tendency, there is and must be repubhe could weave the chaplet of victory?licanism. Literature is republican in its oriWhere lights the morning a mountain or a gin, desert where man has forgotten his humanity, and become the brute? Where dwells the race so prostrate and so oppressed, that dreams of a brighter future, a future glorious and free, have never floated on their memories, like visions of the night? History is gilent, for she has naught of this upon her scroll. The inner lights of the soul have never gone out. And the tortured slave, the prisoned captive, and the martyr at the stake, when the death-dew gathered over them, have looked calmly onward to an existence when empires cease, and worlds shall shrink like a scroll

Again, let us notice its political influence, resultant from its universality. In an uncivilized nation, political power is at first ever merged in military; until, as time goes on, some master minds are called to being who seek to develop the hidden principles of political science, and place the nation on the road to political equality. In all such social changes, literature is the messenger to the masses, explaining and impressing the new discovered truths. It steals to every corner in a nation's domain; but is it satis fied with this? Does it fear the boundaries of kingdoms? Is there a wall of partition The inner truths back of all reason, the that shuts up nationalities, even as hermits great principles of right, seem universal in are prisoned to their cells? The voice of their influence, and the creature, alike with ages answers, no! There is and must be the Creator, has learned to honor, reverence, eternally a bond of sympathy, a oneness of and obey them. But here let us briefly an-interest, in all discoveries, moral or materialyze the influences which are received and al, amid all the empires that partition up given forth in the associations of individual mind with its kindred. Whatever thoughts, feelings, and volitions it may possess, it has the power to impart and infuse. The mediam for this intercourse is language, and the transfer, in this channel, of the most important and precious of our thoughts and feel-ted; political organizations more permanent ings, is the literature of nations. Through this medium, the spirit which prompts the few chosen, highly gifted individual minds,

the world. The scholar and the statesman will never learn to pause with the learning of their own realm, or their own era. There is a universality in literature, which every rolling age makes more universal still. Nations diverse in character, are becoming uni

and more extended; languages fewer in number, but more prominent, and more widely diffused. A more intimate international in

tercourse is freeing thought and feeling from is silent; she has no tale to tell. The prophlocal prejudice, and making genius and tal-et's voice of inspiration foretold its coming; ent the common birthright of mankind. - but man has seen it not. The footfall of the Statesmen, philosophers, and antiquaries future sounds, as she hurries nations from hold converse, though continents lie between. life and light, and she only seems to whis International literature is softening the feel-per, the morning of that golden age is nigh, ings of nations towards each other, by an in- when man shall every where get up on the fluence and action, silent, but ceaseless-un-platform of a common humanity-when the noticed, but ever increasing-unassuming, and yet universal as the sunlight that falls from the windows of heaven to symbolize the love of God.

Between general literature and political science, we may also trace the existence of an intimate relation. Material wealth and physical power have lost the ascendency they once held over the hearts of men. Moral influences are usurping their place, and these must statesmen analyze, or the sceptre of empire will be wrested from their grasp.

network of international thought shall be too strong for the ambition of warriors-when Christianity, and commerce, and literature, shall together cry Peace with a voice that statesmen may neither jeer at,nor disobey The morning of that golden age is nigh. God speed its coming, and may its years be numbered only when the world shall be weary in its course,and the old age of time has filled out all its cycles.

ANN ARBOR, Jan. 1st, 1852.

AND KOSSUTH.

BY B. F. TEFT, D. d.

Thought printed and disseminated from A THRILLING SKETCH-HUNGARY mind educated and heaven-inspired, is getting down to the very sub-stratum of social existence, and waking, among prostrate masses, feelings and aspirations which must and will be felt in the legislation of nations. "Having made all his arrangements with Statesmen may make laws; but if those the Russians, and with a sufficient number laws collide with these universal feelings, of his own minions, Arthur Gorgey, as Diothey will be as idle as the wind. Monarchs tator of the Hungarian nation, on the 13th may refuse reforms, and bind down closer of August, 1849, at the village of Boros Jetheir subjects; but the bar of public opinion near Vilagos, surrendered his person, his arwill try them without fear or favor. There my, and the liberty and independence of is no hope for absolutism, but to stop this his country into the hands of those, who for ceaseless intercourse, through written lan-three hundred years, had been bent on acguage, of mind with mind. complishing its destruction.

This idea of political equality, literature will one day make universal; and may we not call that era its true golden age? Nations have heretofore had their golden ages. Rome had it when the voice of her orators broke from the halls of the Caesars; Egypt had it when the tall old pyramids looked down upon the armies of the Ptolemies; Arabia had it when the Crescent banner of the Prophet was streaming from the golden battlements of Bagdad and Ispahan, Kufa and Damascus; but when, oh! when has that complex nationality, that unit world, had its golden age of literature? The past

"The scene of the surrender beggars all description. An eye-witness, giving some account of it to the Allgemeine Zeitung, the great German paper, exhausts the exuberant vocabulary of his language in the fruitles effort: 'After I wound my way along,' says the writer, 'with a great deal of trouble, I reached a small straw-roofed building, the only inn in the place. As soon as I entered I saw the Russian commander-in-chief and Gorgey, who, for forty-eight hours, had been Dictator of Hungary. He was dressed in his simple but romantic costume, which dife fered very much from that of his general

science are upon him. All these maledictions, with the displeasure of a righteous God, are now on the man, who, to revenge himself upon his rival, sold his country to its oppressors, when, by one splendid action,

staff, who stood around him. In a light brown blouse, with a golden collar, riding boots, reaching far above the knees, a round black hat, surmounted by a waving white feather, he was joking with a beautiful young girl, into whose ear he was whispering flat-by one patriotic effort, by one crowning victering nonsense. The general staff floated round him, their splendor and magnificence recalling the times of Hunyadi and Zrini.Every one was dressed in the most elegant uniform, as if for a festival. The sun-burnt, youthful thin figures, in short attilas, with heavy gold trimmings, hats with waving feathers on their heads, mounted upon fiery | the field of battle, and to close his eye on a steeds, galloping to and fro, formed a group subjugated country, he could, at least, have warlike as the fancy of any painter could done his duty, and died the death of a Leondescribe. idas or a Ragoczy,

tory, such as the one hundred thousand soldiers at Szegedin were panting for, he could have annihilated the armies of the invasion bid defiance to the Austrian despot, and given liberty and tranquility to fifteen millions of his countrymen. Or, if instead of achieving such a victory, he was destined to fall on

"Immediately upon the perpetration of this deed, the army of the new capitol was disbanded. Many of the men and several of the officers ended their present agony by

In the midst of this, a general commotion soon took place. Gorgey had thrown himself on his horse. He was followed by his glittering suite. It was the last act in the drama of the Magyar war. Only a sol-putting pistols to their foreheads. Others dier's heart can comprehend the feeling with which a warrior is parted from his arms. Many seeme 1 torn in helpless agony. Others wept as they printed a parting kiss on the cold steel. A great number shrieked out with rage to be led against the enemy rather than be subjected to the disgrace. I saw how officers and men threw themselves into each others arms, and sobbing, bid each other a long farewell. Others raved against their officers, and accused them of selfishness. No pen can describe the wo, the despair, which prevailed among the hussars. Many shot their horses, and they, who would have lost a limb without a groan, sobbed like children. Gorgey rode around, proud and immovable a marble statue of Mars; and it was only now and then that his ringing, metallic voice was heard, exhorting the soldiers to

make haste.'

fell upon their swords, or pierced their hearts with the Magyar stiletto. Hundreds, whole companies, rather than fall into the hands of their merciless oppressors, burst through the encampment, flying to the high hills and deep gorges of the mountains, to terminate their sorrows by starvation. Kossuth, the spotless patriot, but now a private citizen— Kossuth, the great orator and statesmanKossuth, the friend and benefactor of his people, seeing that all was lost, and loaded with the grief of the whole nation, fled in tears towards the southern borders of the kingdom to beg a temporary hiding-place in a barbarous, but not an unfeeling country. Hungary was now fallen. Haynau, the buteher, at once erected his scaffolds for the execution of the friends of Magyar freedom. Scores of the noblest of the land were ignominiously hung for having defended the

"Alas! alas! that the anagram of Freder-liberties of their country. Other scores had ic, and the long fostered purpose of the des- the favor shown them of baring their fore polic house of the Hapsburghs, should be at eads to the rifle. Week after week the last fulfilled through the treachery of antood of the patriots ran in rivulets. Month Hungarian Soldier. But, from the instant of the treason, the curses of the world are upon the traitor. The curses of his own con

fter month nothing was heard but the voice of lamentation and weeping. On a single day, soon after the surrender, thirteen

of the ablest Generals of the war were murdered in cold blood, because they had fought to save their homes from the assaults and abominations of foreign soldiers.

of childhood is no protection against persecutions. I conjure your Excellency, in the name of the Most High, to put a stop to these cruelties, by your powerful mediation and especially to accord my wife and chil dren an asylum on the soil of the generous English people.'

"The day at length arrived. The Hungarians were brought out by a Turkish officer, where they could stand in each other's pres-,

answer,' said the Christian patriot, 'does not admit of hesitation. Between death and shame the choice can neither be dubious nor difficult. Governor of Hungary, and elected to that high place by the confidence of fif teen millions of my countrymen, I know well what I owe to my country, even in exile.Even as a private individual I have an honorable path to pursue. Though once. Governor of a generous people, I leave1 inheritance to my children. They shall at least, bear an unsullied name. God's will be done. I am prepared to die."

"No sooner was it known that Kossuth and his companions had thrown themselves apon the compassion of the Turkish government, than every exertion was made by Austria and Russia, to get the fugitives sentence, and where the example of one defection back again, and delivered into the hands of would have its influence upon the company., their victorious enemies. Threats and prom- Many of the poor fugitives, it must be conises were both brought to bear upon the fessed, loved life too well to stand against Turk. The world looked on with the deep- the powerful temptation. The great Bem est interest to see how he would decide a himself, who was a soldier simply, renounc question which involved the lives of his no-ed the creed of his fathers, and became a ble guests. It was generally believed that follower of the Prophet, Kossuth was callhe would not dare to deny what Russia, back-ed on last. His reply may as well go down ed by Austria, demanded. While the mat-to posterity as the sublime response: 'My, ter was in negotiation, however, a benevolent, but dishonorable scheme was started by certain Turkish officers, to save the fugitives. There was an old law, that an alien, fleeing from justice, and entering the Territories of the Sublime Porte, could challenge and secure the protection of the State, by abjuring his national faith, and professing the religion of Mahomet. The subterfuge was now offered to the Hungarians. A time was fixed upon for them to give their answer to the proposition. In the meanwhile, but just prior to the important day, Kossuth sent his celebrated letter to Lord Palmerston, in which he describes his critical condition, and, as a dying man, entreats the English A GRAND ARCHEOLOGICAL DISCOVERY.minister to show compassion to his family. Alexander Von Humboldt publishes in the Time presses. Our doom may, in a few Gazette de Spener, some particulars of his days, be sealed. Allow me to make an hum- | interesting discovery, at Athens, of the ble personal request. I am a man, my lord, council-chamber, where the Five Hundred prepared to face the worst, and I can die, held their deliberations. At a depth of one with a free look at heaven, as I have lived, foot below the surface, he had come upon a But I am also, my lord, a husband and a large mass of inscriptions, columns, statues, father. My poor, true-hearted wife, my &c., which forbid a doubt that there had children, and my noble, old mother, are wan-been the seat of that celebrated buildingdering about in Hungary. They will pro- The explorations have not gone on as rapidbably soon fall into the hands of those Aus-ly as they might, on account of the expense. trians who delight in torturing even feeble There is little doubt, however, that the diswomen, and with whom, even the innocence covery is of extraordinary importance.

For the Miscellany.

"IT IS WELL."

(Washington's Last Words.)

BY S. LATTA SMITH.

'Twas then his soul forsook its withered clay,
And left his spirit working here to-day;
His name and noble deeds his nation's pride;
And 'sociates of freedom, far and wide:
We love, and claim him, all with voice and hearty
And shall distinction claim him now apart,

He feebly turned his thoughts from death's near Forsaking but the glories of his name,
door

To scan the past; his varied life all o'er,
From sportive youth and battle's fearful rage,
To calm and peaceful life in honored age,
Twas then he spoke! when life was ebbing fast,
Yes! "it is well"; then calmly breathed his last.
In youth no guilt could pale or flush his cheek,
But what would shun his open heart and meek.
In manhood's stronger prime how paint his name-
In freedom's light, with freedom's holy claim-
Yes, link it there with hopes that cost so dear
The faithful, constant, still through hope and fear.
His heart was tried in trial's darkest gloom,
To traitor's guilt and fear it gave no room;
The brilliant stars of justice and of right,
Were veiled and hid in dark tyrannic night.
His people, ground beneath the tyrant's heel,
And made the tyrant's kingly power to feel:
His noble heart sent up a feeling sigh-
A prayer, invoking God's omniscient eye,
To guide his few as chosen ones of old,
To give them faith-the breast-plate of the bold:
He girt his armor on, of freedom proud,

Then raised from 'neath the dark and dismal cloud
That o'er his country threat'ning hung,
Our chosen stars, and banners bravely flung
Them in the God inspiring breeze:

His prayer was heard! triumphant o'er the seas,
In freedom's light we now behold them wave,
With numbers more, and brightness still to save.
His soul was free to leave those words behind,
And "It is well," is truth to freemen's minds-
Ye Kings! and you, the struggling, truth must own,
Of Freedom's germs, by him so bravely sown-
Behold the current's widening underflow,
It chafes its bounds but yet to overflow >
And fatal sweep to dark oblivion's grave,
What trembling kings are seeking now to save.
Too late! our western star sends back its light;
Its flood of brilliant rays, diverging bright,
Sweeps silent, sweetly back far o'er the wave,
And whispers "It is well;" rise up and save
Your millions sorely clanking now their chains;
Yes, fan the flame that in your bosom reigns.
His soul for realms of everlasting day,
And body now to gain its kindred clay.
For mortal, and immortal thus to feel,

. While Angel's message-whispers to them steal,
And bids them part in peace, as peace hath been,
How calm, how pure, the parting scene:
"Twas then they jointly whispered "It is well,"
The mortal and immortal's last farewell,

And clinging to the symbols of his aim?
Our great and glorious Union of to-day;
By vile disunion's storms be swept away,
And then, with voice divided, praise his name?
"Twould make his peaceful ashes cry, for shame.
How blind to think of braving such a shock,
And wrecking 'pon a self-constructed rock;
'Tis false, no ample reason hath been made,
To raise secession's fiery fatal blade,
And stab his sacred cause ull to the core,
And bid the heart of Freedom beat no more.
His warning voice still lingers in our ears→
It checks their idle rage and calms our fears.
'Tis clear, but clouds still linger in our sky.
A foetus floats before the keener eye,
That pants, and slowly swells for giant life;
Convulsive throbs proclaim its future strife;
Our Nation's great event is not yet past,
But 'twill, with Freedom's vigor, meet the blast.
The Grecian hosts prepared for mighty war,
Had better cause to separate by

When great Achilles won the captive dame,
The fair and lovely prize or Grecian fame,
To him, for his great deeds, the prize was paid,
His lost; Atrides claimed the captive maid:
The king demands! Achilles then resigns,
And spurning, bids his armies stay behind;
Atrides then to launch his mighty fleet
With severed strength, the Trojans then to meet;
Alas, the Grecian's cause and strength were twain,
Too late they prayed for union's strength again.
The Trojan hosts, they bravely swept the plain,
And strewed the ground with heaps of Grecian slain.
How very like this far-off darker age,
The simple cause of blind secession's rage;
But better far this light of freedom's day,"
For reason now with strength asserts her sway,
A youthful union, formed in Union's strength,
In manhood now will guard its manly length,
And still look back with pride and grateful heart,
To those who early moved and marked its charts
Of freedom's needle, quelled the trembling spell,
They'll love the soul that whispered, "it is well."
A father's tomb-a nation's holy shrine,
Where every heart doth bow and say 'tis mine-
He sleeps the silent sleep of all the earth,
But waits no waking of a second birth!
He lives in old andi nfant memory's care,
For every grade his equal blessings share;
His soul it moved his lips to speak the thought,
When freely ushered forth a life well wrought
The yielding air it answered "it is well,"
And sounding still, it echoes "it is well."