neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all disguises, and beholds every thing as in the splen dor of noon, such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by men. True it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of Heaven,, by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later.

3. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a thonsand cxcited minds intensely dwell on the scene, shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery.

4. Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is false to itself; or, rather, it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it dares not acknowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask no sympathy or assistance, either from Heaven or earth.

5. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him; and, like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence.

6. When suspicions, from without, begin to embarrass him, !

and the net of circumstance to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles, with still greater violence, to burst forth. It must be confessed;-it will be confessed;-there is no refuge from confession but suicide-and suicide is confession!

DANIEL WEBSTER

8. AN APPEAL TO THE JURY.

[PHILLIPS is one of the most brilliant orators of the age.

H! gentlemen, am I this day only the counsel of my client? No, no; I am the advocate of humanity-of yourselves, your homes, your wives, your families, your little children. I am glad that this case exhibits such atrocity; unmarked as it is by any mitigatory feature, it may stop the frightful advance of this calamity; it will be met now, and marked with vengeance.

2. If it be not, farewell to the virtues of your country; farewell to all confidence between man and man; farewell to that unsuspicious and reciprocal tenderness without which marriage is but a consecrated curse. If oaths are to be violated, laws disregarded, friendship betrayed, humility trampled, national and individual honor stained, and if a jury of fathers and husbands will give such miscreancy a passport to their homes, and wives, and daughters, farewell to all that yet remains of Ireland !

3. But I will not cast such a doubt upon the character of my country. Against the sneer of the foe and the skepticism of the foreigner, I will still stand and point to the domestic virtues, that no perfidy could barter, and no bribery can purchase; that with a Roman usage at once embellish and consecrate households, giving to the society of the hearth all the purity of the altar; that, lingering alike in the palace and the cottage, are still to be found scattered over this land-the relic of what she was the source, perhaps, of what she may be the lone, the stately, and the magnificent memorials that, rearing their majesty amidst surrounding ruins, serve at once as the landmarks of departed glory, and the models by which the future may be erected.

4. Preserve those virtues with a vestal fidelity; mark this day, by your verdict, your horror of their profanation; and believe me, when the hand which records that verdict shall be dust, and the tongue which asks it traceless in the grave, many a happy home will bless its consequences, and many a mother teach her little child to hate the impious treason of adultery.

PHILLIPS.

I

9. IRELAND.

Do not despair of my poor old country, her peace, her lib. erty, her glory. For that country I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up, to make her a benefactor instead of being the meanest beggar in the world, to restore to her her native powers and her ancient constitution, this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime.

2. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime cntails the penalty of death, but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history I am no criminal; you are no criminal; I deserve no punishment; we deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctified as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice.

3. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of the court, having done what I felt to be my duty, having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other occasion of my short career. I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion and my death-the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies, whose factions I have sought to still, whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim, whose freedom has been my fatal dream.

4. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, the life of a young heart; and with that life, all the hopes, the honors, the endearments of an honorable home.

5. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the law directs, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and a perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal-a tribunal where a Judge of infinite goodness, as well as of justice, will preside, and where, my lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be reversed.

T. F. MEAGHER.

FA

10. ADHERBAL AGAINST JUGURTHA.

MATHERS! it is known to you, that King Micipsa, my father, on his death-bed, left in charge to Jugurtha his adopted son, conjointly with my unfortunate brother Hiempsel and myself, the children of his own body, the administration of the kingdom of Numidia, directing us to consider the Senate and the people of Rome as proprietors of it. He charged us to use our best endeavors to be serviceable to the Roman commonwealth; assuring us, that your protection would prove a defence against all enemies; and would be instead of armies, fortifications, and treasures.

2. While my brother and I were thinking of nothing but how to regulate ourselves according to the directions of our deceased father-Jugurtha-the most infamous of mankind!breaking through all ties of gratitude and of common humanity, and trampling on the authority of the Roman commonwealth, procured the murder of my unfortunate brother; and has driven me from my throne and native country, though he knows I inherit, from my grandfather Massinissa, and my father Micipsa, the friendship and alliance of the Romans.

3. For a prince to be reduced, by villainy, to my distressful circumstances, is calamity enough; but my misfortunes are heightened by the consideration that I find myself obliged to solicit your assistance, fathers, for the services done you by my ancestors, not for any I have been able to render you in my own person. Jugurtha has put it out of my power to de

serve any thing at your hands; and has forced me to be burdensome, before I could be useful to you.

4. And yet, if I had no plea, but my undeserved misery-a once powerful prince, the descendant of a race of illustrious monarchs, now, without any fault of my own, destitute of every support, and reduced to the necessity of begging for ign assistance, against an enemy who has seized my throne And my kingdom,-if my unequalled distresses were all I had to plead, it would become the greatness of the Roman commonwealth, to protect the injured, and to check the triumph of daring wickedness over helpless innocence.

5. But to provoke your resentment to the utmost, Jugurtha has driven me from the very dominions which the Senate and people of Rome gave to my ancestors; and from which my grandfather, and my father, under your umbrage, expelled Syphax and the Carthaginians.

6. Thus, fathers, your kindness to our family is defeated; and Jugurtha, in injuring me, throws contempt upon you. Oh wretched prince! Oh cruel reverse of fortune! Oh father Micipsa! Is this the consequence of thy generosity: that he whom thy goodness raised to an equality with thy own children, should be the murderer of thy children? Must, then, the royal house of Numidia always be a scene of havoc and blood?

7. While Carthage remained, we suffered, as was to be expected, all sorts of hardships from their hostile attacks; our enemy near; our only powerful ally, the Roman commonwealth, at a distance. When that scourge of Africa was no more, we congratulated ourselves on the prospect of estabIshed peace. But, instead of peace, behold the kingdom of Numidia, drenched with royal blood! and the only surviving son of its late king, flying from an adopted murderer, and seeking that safety in foreign countries which he cannot command in his own kingdom.

8. Whither-Oh! whither shall I fly? If I return to the royal palace of my ancestors, my father's throne is seized by