Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas, Largior hic campos Æther et lumine vestit Purpuero."

("These rites performed, they reach those happy fields,
Gardens, and groves, and seats of living joy,
Where the pure ether spreads with wider sway,
And throws a purple light o'er all the plains.")
-Virgil's Eneid, book vi.

It is in this view, sir-it is an atonement for our long and cruel injustice toward Africa, that the measure proposed by my honourable friend most forcibly recommends itself to my mind. The great and happy change to be expected in the state of her inhabitants, is, of all the various and important benefits of the abolition, in my estimation, incomparably the most extensive and important.

I shall vote, sir, against the adjournment; and I shall also oppose to the utmost every proposition which in any way may tend either to prevent, or even to postpone for an hour, the total abolition of the slave trade: a measure which, on all the various grounds which I have stated, we are bound, by the most pressing and indispensable duty, to adopt.

[The impression made by this speech was so great that all the spectators present believed that the vote in favour of Pitt's motion would be carried. Mr Dundas's plan of gradual abolition, however, had the preference by a majority of sixty-eight votes. His scheme, brought forward in detail, was lost in the House of Lords. Through the untiring labours of Wilberforce, after Pitt's death, a resolution was passed in 1806, to the effect "that the slave trade was inconsistent with justice, humanity, and sound policy, and that measures ought to be taken for its immediate abolition." On 1st January 1808, a bill to this effect became law. In America in 1794, and again in 1800, traffic in slaves had been declared illegal. In 1807, an Act was passed that, after the beginning of January 1808, the importation of slaves into the United States would be illegal. In 1820 the slave trade was declared to be piracy by the American Congress, and in 1824 the same was declared by the British Parliament.]

government of France-but that part of the government which had too much influence, and has now the whole ascendency, never was sincere -was determined to accept of no terms but such as would make it neither durable nor safe; such as could only be accepted by this country by a surrender of all its interests, and by a sacrifice of every pretension to the character of a great, a powerful, or an independent nation.

This, sir, is inference no longer. You have their own open avowal. You have it stated in the subsequent declaration of France itself that it is not against your commerce, that it is not against your wealth, it is not against your possessions in the East, or your colonies in the West, it is not against even the source of your maritime greatness, it is not against any of the appendages of your empire, but against the very essence of liberty, against the foundation of your independence, against the citadel of your happiness, against your constitution itself, that their hostilities are directed. They have themselves announced and proclaimed the proposition that what they mean to bring with their invading armies is the genius of their liberty. I desire no other word to express the subversion of the British constitution, and the substitution of the most malignant and fatal contrast-the annihilation of British liberty, and the obliteration of everything that has rendered you a great, a flourishing, and a happy people.

This is what is at issue. From this are we to declare ourselves in a manner that deprecates the rage which our enemies will not dissemble, and which will be little moved by our entreaty ! Under such circumstances are we ashamed or afraid to declare, in a firm and manly tone, our resolution to defend ourselves, or to speak the language of truth with the energy that belongs to

Englishmen united in such a cause? Sir, I do not scruple, for one, to say, "If I knew nothing by which I could state to myself a probability of the contest terminating in our favour, I would maintain that the contest with its worst chances is preferable to an acquiescence in such demands."

If I could look at this as a dry question of prudence, if I could calculate it upon the mere grounds of interest, I would say, if we love that degree of national power which is necessary for the independence of the country and its safety, if we regard domestic tranquillity, if we look at individual enjoyment from the highest to the meanest among us, there is not a man whose stake is so great in the country that he ought to hesitate a moment in sacrificing any portion of it to oppose the violence of the enemy-nor is there, I trust, a man in this happy and free nation whose stake is so small that would not be ready to sacrifice his life in the same cause. look at it with a view to safety, this would be our conduct. But if we look at it upon the principle of true honour, of the character which

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we have to support, of the example which we have to set to the other nations of Europe; if we view rightly the lot in which Providence has placed us, and the contrast between ourselves and all the other countries in Europe, gratitude to that Providence should inspire us to make every effort in such a cause. There may be danger; but on the one side there is danger accompanied with honour; on the other side there is danger, with indelible shame and disgrace; upon such an alternative Englishmen will not hesitate. I wish to disguise no part of my sentiments upon the grounds on which I put the issue of the contest. I ask, whether up to the principles I have stated we are prepared to act? Having done so, my opinion is not altered; my hopes, however, are animated by the reflection that the means of our safety are in our own hands; for there never was a period when we had more to encourage us. In spite of heavy burdens, the radical strength of the nation never showed itself more conspicuous; its revenue never exhibited greater proofs of the wealth of the country; the same objects which constitute the blessings we have to fight for furnish us with

the means of continuing them. But it is not upon that point I rest. There is one great resource, which I trust will never abandon us, and which has shone forth in the English character, by which we have preserved our existence and fame as a nation, which I trust we shall be determined never to abandon under any extremity, but shall join hand and heart in the solemn pledge that is proposed to us, and declare to his majesty "that we know great exertions are wanted; that we are prepared to make them; and are, at all events, determined to stand or fall by the laws, liberties, and religion of our country."

[The House was completely electrified by this speech, and the greater body of the nation rallied round king and Parliament. A subscription was raised of £1,500,000 sterling, as a voluntary donation to meet the increased expenses of the war; and Mr Pitt was permitted so to modify his system of taxation as to produce a vast accession to the regular income of the government. This enabled him to renew the contest with increased vigour.]

TO THE ELECTORS OF HULL.* GENTLEMEN,—To a mind not utterly devoid of feeling it must ever be peculiarly interesting to visit, after a long absence, the residence of childhood, and of early youth. This is now my situation; and every object, and many of the faces I behold around me, are such as were familiar to me in my earliest years; while I am reminded of many friends and connections, some of them near and dear to me, who are now no more. The emotions thus excited really distract my thoughts; but I can truly assure you, that whatever deficiency may be thereby occasioned in the expression of my sentiments, will be more than made up by those feelings of gratitude and attachment which at this moment powerfully affect my heart. I am naturally led to retrace the journey of life, until I reach the period when I first became the object of your public notice; for it was your kindness, gentlemen, which first

called me into public life, and in my earliest manhood placed me in the honourable situation of your representative. While I filled that office I endeavoured to discharge its duties with industry and fidelity, and when I ceased to be your immediate representative, I did not cease to feel an interest in your welfare. With many of you, indeed, I continued still to be connected in the same relation.

Of the manner in which I discharged my par liamentary duty, and of the principles by which it was regulated, it is not for me to speak. I may be said to have lived in public; my conduct has been open to you all, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that in general it has been honoured with your approbation. I am no party-manmeasures, not men, were the object of my concern. I formed early a friendly connection with the great minister [William Pitt] who so long presided over the councils of this country, and our friendship was dissolved only by his death. In common with most of you, I, in general, approved his measures, and had the satisfaction of finding the dictates of public duty coincide wita the impulse of private friendship. But I never addicted myself to him so closely as not to consider every question and every measure with

marks on the utility of knowledge in general. It must strike us, in the first place, that the extent to which we have the faculty of acquiring it, forms the most obvious distinction of our species. In inferior animals it subsists in so small a degree, that we are wont to deny it to them altogether; the range of their knowledge, if it deserves the name, is so extremely limited, and their ideas so few and simple. Whatever is most exquisite in their operations is referred to an instinct, which, working within a narrow compass, though with undeviating uniformity, supplies the place, and supersedes the necessity, of reason. In inferior animals the knowledge of the whole species is possessed by each individual of the species, while man is distinguished by numberless diversities in the scale of mental improvement. Now, to be destitute in a remarkable degree of an acquisition which forms the appropriate possession of human nature, is degrading to that nature, and must proportionably disqualify it for reaching the end of its creation.

As the power of acquiring knowledge is to be ascribed to reason, so the attainment of it mightily strengthens and improves it, and thereby enables it to enrich itself with further acquisitions. Knowledge in general expands the mind, exalts the faculties, refines the taste of pleasure, and opens numerous sources of intellectual enjoyment. By means of it we become less dependent for satisfaction upon the sensitive appetites, the gross pleasures of sense are more easily despised, and we are made to feel the superiority of the spiritual to the material part of our nature. Instead of being continually solicited by the influence and irritation of sensible objects, the mind can retire within herself, and expatiate in the cool and quiet walks of contemplation. The Author of nature has wisely annexed a pleasure to the exercise of our active powers, and particularly to the pursuit of truth, which, if it be in some instances less intense, is far more durable than the gratifications of sense, and is on that account incomparably more valuable. Its duration, to say nothing of its other properties, renders it more valuable. It may be repeated without satiety, and pleases afresh on every reflection upon it. These are self-created satisfactions, always within our reach, not dependent upon events, not requiring a peculiar combination of circumstances to produce or maintain them; they rise from the mind itself, and inhere, so to speak, in its very substance. Let the mind but retain its proper functions, and they spring up spontaneously, unsolicited, unborrowed, and unbought. Even the difficulties and impediments which obstruct the pursuit of truth, serve, according to the economy under which we are placed, to render it more interesting. The labour of intellectual search resembles and exceeds the tumultuous pleasures of the chase; and the consciousness of overcoming a

formidable obstacle, or of lighting on some happy discovery, gives all the enjoyment of a conquest, without those corroding reflections by which the latter must be impaired. Can we doubt that Archimedes, who was so absorbed in his contemplations as not to be diverted by the sacking of his native city, and was killed in the very act of meditating a mathematical problem, did not, when he exclaimed, "Eupηka! evρnka! I have found it! I have found it!" feel a transport as genuine as was ever experienced after the most brilliant victory?

But to return to the moral good which results from the acquisition of knowledge: it is chiefly this, that by multiplying the mental resources, it has a tendency to exalt the character, and, in some measure, to correct and subdue the taste for gross sensuality. It enables the possessor to beguile his leisure moments (and every man has such) in an innocent, at least, if not in a useful, manner. The poor man who can read, and who possesses a taste for reading, can find entertainment at home, without being tempted to repair to the public-house for that purpose. His mind can find him employment when his body is at rest; he does not lie prostrate and float on the current of incidents, liable to be carried whithersoever the impulse of appetite may direct. There is in the mind of such a man an intellectual spring urging him to the pursuit of mental good; and if the minds of his family also are a little cultivated, conversation becomes the more interesting, and the sphere of domestic enjoyment enlarged. The calm satisfaction which books afford, puts him into a disposition to relish more exquisitely the tranquil delight inseparable from the indulgence of conjugal and parental affection; and as he will be more respectable in the eyes of his family than he who can teach them nothing, he will be naturally induced to cultivate whatever may preserve, and to shun whatever would impair, that respect. He who is inured to reflection will carry his views beyond the present hour; he will extend his prospect a little into futurity, and be disposed to make some provision for his approaching wants; whence will result an increased motive to industry, together with a care to husband his earnings, and to avoid unnecessary expense. The poor man who has gained a taste for good books will in all likelihood become thoughtful; and when you have given the poor a habit of thinking, you have conferred on them a much greater favour than by the gift of a large sum of money, since you have put them in possession of the principle of all legitimate prosperity.

I am persuaded that the extreme profligacy, improvidence, and misery, which are so prevalent among the labouring classes in many countries, are chiefly to be ascribed to the want of education. In proof of this we need only cast our eyes on the condition of the Irish, compared with that of the peasantry in Scotland.