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than ever carolled on the muddy Saxon shore; and I thought, my countrymen, that on the brow of every other hill the mighty elephant was reposing under the peaceful shade of the shamrock; and again, I thought the corner of each field was filled with more iron, and tin, and brass, than would suffice to build a railway from here to the bottom of England's perdition; and I thought-may the beautiful vision be never effaced from the iris of my weeping eyes! — that there were no dark clouds such as now lower o'er our bright country; but that the whole scene, so intensely Irish, was illumined, as if with a resplendent sun, with our own gas. Oh! oh! when will this vision be realized? When shall we see the poor Irishman the finest peasant of the world-boiling his potato? the plundering Saxon cannot wring that from us; though no thanks to the monster for the blight; - boiling his potato, I say, with his own coal, in a pot made of his own iron, and eat it on a plate made of his own pewter, with a knife bought with his own tin. Never! never! until the Repeal is carried.

Ah!

Do you believe you 'll ever have it? Believe me, in all sincerity, you never will, until you pull up the lamp-posts and make bayonets of them, and have wrenched off every knocker and bell-pull and melted them into bullets and cannon-balls. I know I am talking sedition; but I dare them to come and tear the shoe-strings out of my boots, before I unsay a single word of what I have said. They dare not prosecute me! It would be the proudest moment for Ireland if they would; for then College-green would be crowded with Irish kings. The Queen of England would be an Irishman. I should die happy in the thought that the majestic tree of Repeal had been watered with my blood, and blossomed, and borne such golden fruit, that unborn nations, far from beyond the poles, were coming on their knees to taste them.

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CÆSAR PASSING THE RUBICON.

J. S. KNOWLES.

A GENTLEMAN, speaking of Cæsar's benevolent disposition, and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil war, observes, "How long did he pause upon the brink of the Rubicon?" How came he to the brink of that river? How dared he cross it? Shall a private man respect the boundaries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's rights? How dared he cross that river? Oh! but he paused upon the brink. He should have

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perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it! Why did he pause?-Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very murderer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye taking the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal part? Because of conscience! 'T was that made Cæsar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon!-Compassion! What compassion? The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon begins to cut! - Cæsar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! What was the Rubicon? The boundary of Cæsar's province. From what did it separate his province? From his country. Was that country a desert? No; it was cultivated and fertile, rich and popu lous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friendship was its inhabitant! Love was its inhabitant! Domestic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty was its inhabitant! All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was Cæsar, that stood upon the brink of that stream? A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country! No wonder that he paused,-no wonder if, his imagination wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water, and heard groans instead of murmurs! No wonder if some gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the spot! But, no! he cried, "The die is cast!" He plunged! he crossed! and Rome was free no more!

FOR THE VOTE OF CONFIDENCE.

COMPTE DE MIRABEAU.

MY FRIENDS, listen to me a word, a single word! Two centuries of depredation and robbery have excavated the abyss wherein the kingdom is on the verge of being engulfed. This frightful gulf it is indispensable to fill up. Well, here is a list of the proprietors. Choose from among the richest, so as to sacrifice the smallest number of the citizens. But choose! for is it not expedient that a small number perish to save the mass of the people? Come! there are two thousand possessing wherewith to supply the deficit. Restore order to our finances, peace and prosperity to the kingdom. Strike, and immolate pitilessly these melancholy victims; precipitate them into the abyss; it is about to close. What! you recoil with horror! Inconsistent nusillanimous men! And do you not

still, in rendering it inevitable without decreeing-you disgrace yourselves with an act a thousand times more criminal; for, in fact, that horrible sacrifice would remove the deficiency.

But do you imagine that because you refuse to pay you shall cease to owe? Do you think the thousands, the millions of men, who will lose in an instant, by the dreadful explosion or its revulsions, all that constituted the comfort of their lives, and perhaps their sole means of subsistence, will leave you in the peaceable enjoyment of your crime? Stoical contemplators of the incalculable woes which this catastrophe will scatter over France! unfeeling egotists, who think these convulsions of despair and wretchedness will pass away like so many others, and pass the more rapidly as they will be the more violent! are you quite sure that so many men without bread will leave you tranquilly to luxuriate amid the viands which you will have been unwilling to curtail in either variety or delicacy? No! you will perish! and in the universal conflagration, which you do not tremble to kindle, the loss of your honor will not save you a single one of your detestable luxuries!

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Vote, then, this extraordinary subsidy, and may it prove sufficient! Vote it, because the class most interested in the sacrifice which the government demands is you, yourselves! Vote it, because the public exigencies allow of no evasion, and that you will be responsible for every delay! Beware of asking time! - misfortune never grants it. What! gentlemen, in reference to a ridiculous movement of the Palais-Royal, a ludicrous insurrection, which had never any consequence except in the weak imaginations or the wicked purposes of a few designing men, you have heard not long since these insane cries: Catiline is at the gates of Rome, and you deliberate! And assuredly there was around you neither Catiline, nor danger, nor factions, nor Rome. But to-day bankruptcy, hideous bankruptcy, is there before you; it threatens to consume you, your country, your property, your honor;- and you delib

erate!

A VINDICATION OF THE LABORER.

C. NAYLOR.

I AM a northern laborer. Ay, sir, it has been my lot to have inherited, as my only patrimony, at an early age, nothing but naked orphanage and utter destitution; houseless and homeless, fatherless and penniless, I was obliged, from that

day forward, to earn my daily bread by my daily labor. And now, sir, when I take my seat in this hall, as the free representative of a free people, am I to be sneered at as a northern laborer, and degraded into a comparison with the poor, oppressed and suffering negro slave? Is such the genius and spirit of our institutions? If it be, then did our fathers fight, and struggle, and die, in vain!

But, sir, the gentleman has misconceived the spirit and tendency of northern institutions. He is ignorant of northern character. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the northern laborers! Preach insurrection to me! Who are the northern laborers? The history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot from your annals the deeds and the doings of northern laborers, and the history of your country presents but a universal blank.

Sir, who was he that disarmed the Thunderer; wrested from his grasp the bolts of Jove; calmed the troubled ocean; became the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilized world; whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor; who participated in the achievement of your independence; prominently assisted in moulding your free institututions, and the beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of "recorded time?" Who, sir, I ask, was he? A northern laborer—a Yankee tallow-chandler's son

a printer's runaway boy!

And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was he that, in the days of our revolution, led forth a northern army

yes, an army of northern laborers—and aided the chivalry of South Carolina in their defence against British aggression, drove the spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign invaders? Who was he? A northern laborer, a Rhode Island blacksmith—the gallant General Greene — who left his hammer and his forge, and went forth conquering and to conquer in the battle for our independence! And will you preach insurrection to men like these?

Sir, our country is full of the achievements of northern laborers! Where is Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the north? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names of those hallowed spots, but the blood and the struggles, the high daring and patriotism, and sublime courage, of northern laborers? The whole north is

an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence, of northern laborers! Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these!

The fortitude of the men of the north, under intense suffering for liberty's sake, has been almost god-like! History has so recorded it. Who comprised that gallant army, that, without food, without pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked, in that dreadful winter- the midnight of our revolution-whose wanderings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow; whom no arts could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings disaffect; but who, true to their country and its holy cause, continued to fight the good fight of liberty, until it finally triumphed? Who, sir, were these men? Why, northern laborers!—yes, sir, northern laborers! Who, sir, were Roger Sherman and But it is idle to enumerate. To name the northern laborers who have distinguished themselves, and illustrated the history of their country, would require days of the time of this house. Nor is it necessary. Posterity will do them justice. Their deeds

have been recorded in characters of fire!

BRITISH PREDILECTION.

J. RANDOLPH.

AGAINST whom are these charges of British predilection brought? Against men, who, in the war of the revolution, were in the councils of the nation, or fighting the battles of your country. It is insufferable. It cannot be borne. It must and ought, with severity, to be put down in this house, and out of it to meet the lie direct. We have no fellow-feeling for the suffering and oppressed Spaniards! Yet even them we do not reprobate.

Strange! that we should have no objection to any other people or government, civilized or savage, in the whole world! The great autocrat of all the Russias receives the homage of our high consideration. The Dey of Algiers and his divan of pirates are very civil, good sort of people, with whom we find no difficulty in maintaining the relations of peace and amity. "Turks, Jews, and Infidels," or the barbarians and savages of every clime and color, are welcome to our arms. With chiefs of banditti, negro or mulatto, we can treat and can trade. Name, however, but England, and all our antipathies are up in arms against her. Against whom? Against those whose

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