heard, and, as a whole, I think it fully equalled, if it did not exceed, any rhetorical effort to which it has been my good fortune to listen in either House of Congress. It elevated him at once to the first rank of Congressional orators, and stamped his short, but brilliant parliamentary career with the impression of undoubted genius, and the highest oratorical powers. I have never read the published speech, but I apprehend it is not possible that it should convey to the reader any adequate idea of the effect produced by its delivery." When the vote was taken on the question of his right to a seat, it was a tie, and the vote of the Speaker, James K. Polk, being cast against him, Mr. Prentiss returned to Vicksburg. His second canvass was distinguished for the excitement it produced. Every where he was met with enthusiasm and delight. Among many anecdotes of this canvass, illustrative of the power he displayed as an orator, is the following. On one occasion, while he was speaking in his most fascinating manner, an old Democrat present became so charmed and excited, that, at the conclusion of the address, he walked towards him, and ripping his coat open behind, as he did so, cried out: "Well, they may call me a turn-coat, if they choose; but I won't be that-I shall just back out of my coat, and vote for S. S. Prentiss." In this election Mr. Prentiss was successful, and in May, 1838, he took his seat in Congress. But he had no taste for congressional life, and, after serving a brief term, he returned to the bar and to his extended practice. representative career, however, short as it was, was of unusual brilliancy and success. His speech on the Defalcations of Public Officers, the Sub-Treasury Bill, and that on the Navy, gained him great applause throughout the country, and firmly established his reputation as a parliamentary orator. On his return from Washington, he stopped for some time at Louisville, to assist in the defence of Judge Wilkinson, who was indicted for murder. The limits of this sketch will not permit a detail of this affair. Mr. Prentiss's argument, (reported some time after its delivery,) which was regarded, by all who heard it, as a masterpiece of forensic eloquence, is now before the world. His In the Presidential campaign of 1840, Mr. Prentiss was constant and untiring in the advocacy of the Whig policy. His speeches, some of which were reported, are now fresh in the recollection of many. Mr. Prentiss's opposition to the Mississippi Repudiation was firm and uncompromising. In his speeches, which were among the ablest he ever made, he denounced the measure as alike ruinous and wicked; every where he lifted up his voice against it; it mattered not whether he was addressing a polished audience at Natchez, a knot of idlers at the corner of the street in Vicksburg, a gathering of backwoodsmen, or a crowd well sprinkled with repudiating legislators at the capital; he never varied his speech, except to lash the iniquity with rebukes still more scathing when he saw its authors or abettors before him. In 1845, he removed from Vicksburg to New Orleans, where he soon mastered the system of jurisprudence of Louisiana, which greatly differed from that under which he had been so long practising; became thoroughly conversant with the principles of civil law, and took a position foremost at the bar. His practice was extensive, and continued so until he became broken down by ill health. In the midst of his professional labors he always took an active part in the politics of the day. In truth, he is generally better known as a political orator, than a lawyer. Nor did he confine himself to these duties alone. He was distinguished for his fondness and thorough knowledge of literature. Besides rendering the most important services in the political campaigns, he was often called upon to appear as the popular orator of anniversaries, and, with his pen as well as his tongue, he was a ready advocate in the cause of philanthropy and the elevation of his fellow-men. During the few last years of his life, he suffered severe illness; yet he continued to labor assiduously in his profession, and only relinquished it a short time prior to his death. He died at Longwood, near Natchez, on the first day of July, 1851. As a lawyer, Mr. Prentiss was distinguished for the remarkable rapidity and analytical power of his mind. His memory was singularly retentive. His logical faculty was very acute and discerning. "It was often the complaint of the court and his brother lawyers," says one of his cotemporaries, "that he would argue a case all to pieces. He would penetrate to the very bottom of a subject, as it were, by intuition, and lay it bare in all its parts, like a chemist analyzing any material object, or a surgeon making a dissection. His reading was full and general, and every thing he gathered from books, as well as from intercourse with his fellow-men, clung to his memory, and was ever at his command. But his most striking talent was his oratory. We have never known or read of a man who equalled Prentiss, in the faculty of thinking on his legs, or of extemporaneous eloquence. He required no preparation to speak on any subject, and on all he was equally happy. We have heard from him, thrown out in a dinner-speech, or at a public meeting, when unexpectedly called on, more brilliant and striking thoughts than many of the most gifted poets and orators ever elaborated in their closets. He possessed a rare wit. His garland was enwreathed with flowers culled from every shrub or plant, and from every clime. And if at times the thorn lurked beneath the bright flower, the wound it inflicted was soon assuaged and healed by some mirthful and laughter-moving palliative." In his social relations, he was courteous, affectionate, and generous. Of a brilliant imagination, sparkling wit, and rare convivial talents, he was always a welcome guest wherever he went. In his death, the American bar lost one of its brightest ornaments, and the human race a steadfast, loving, and disinterested friend. Those who desire a full insight into the character and genius of Mr. Prentiss, would do well to consult the interesting memoir lately published by his brother, to which the editor here acknowledges his indebtedness for the material of this sketch. THE NEW ENGLAND ADDRESS. Mr. Prentiss delivered the following address, | till reason becomes confused, and at last start before the New England Society of New Orleans, on the twenty-second of December, 1845: back in fear, like mariners who have entered an unknown ocean, of whose winds, tides, currents, and quicksands they are wholly ignorant. Then it is we turn for relief to the past, that mighty reservoir of men and things. There we have something tangible to which our sympathies can attach; upon which we can lean for support; from whence we can gather knowledge and learn wisdom. There we are introduced into Nature's vast laboratory and witness her elemental labors. We mark with interest the changes in continents and oceans by which she has notched the centuries. But our attention is still more deeply aroused by the great moral events, which have controlled the fortunes of those who have preceded us, and still influence our own. With curious wonder, we gaze down the long aisles of the past, upon the generations that are gone. We behold, as in a This is a day dear to the sons of New England, and ever held by them in sacred remembrance. On this day, from every quarter of the globe, they gather in spirit around the Rock of Plymouth, and hang upon the urns of their Pilgrim Fathers the garlands of filial gratitude and affection. We have assembled for the purpose of participating in this honorable duty; of performing this pious pilgrimage. To-day we will visit that memorable spot. We will gaze upon the place where a feeble band of persecuted exiles founded a mighty nation: and our hearts will exult with proud gratification as we remember that on that barren shore our ancestors planted not only empire but Freedom. We will meditate upon their toils, their suffer-magic glass, men in form and feature like ourings, and their virtues, and to-morrow return to our daily avocations, with minds refreshed and improved by the contemplation of their high principles and noble purposes. The human mind cannot be contented with the present. It is ever journeying through the trodden regions of the past, or making adventurous excursions into the mysterious realms of the future. He who lives only in the present, is but a brute, and has not attained the human dignity. Of the future but little is known; clouds and darkness rest upon it; we yearn to become acquainted with its hidden secrets; we stretch out our arms towards its shadowy inhabitants; we invoke our posterity, but they answer us not. We wander in its dim precincts We ap selves, actuated by the same motives, urged by the same passions, busily engaged in shaping out both their own destinies and ours. proach them, and they refuse not our invocation. We hold converse with the wise philosophers, the sage legislators and divine poets. We enter the tent of the general, and partake of his most secret counsels. We go forth with him to the battle-field, and behold him place his glittering squadrons; then we listen with a pleasing fear to the trumpet and the drum, or the still more terrible music of the booming cannon and the clashing arms. But most of all, among the innumerable multitudes who peopled the past, we seek our own ancestors, drawn towards them by an irresistible 584 days, and the names of Carver, Bradford, Winslow, Standish, and their noble companions, have long since become with us venerated household words. sympathy. Indeed, they were our other selves. | served the scattered memorials of those early With reverent solicitude we examine into their character and actions, and as we find them worthy or unworthy, our hearts swell with pride, or our cheeks glow with shame. search with avidity for the most trivial circumWe stances in their history, and eagerly treasure up guished the enterprise of the Pilgrims from all There were, however, some traits that distinevery memento of their fortunes. The instincts others, and which are well worthy of continued of our nature bind us indissolubly to them and remembrance. In founding their colony they link our fates with theirs. Men cannot live sought neither wealth nor conquest, but only without a past; it is as essential to them as a peace and freedom. They asked but for a region future. Into its vast confines we will journey where they could make their own laws, and to-day, and converse with our Pilgrim Fathers. worship God according to the dictates of their We will speak to them and they shall answer us. Two centuries and a quarter ago, a little tem- touched the shore, they labored, with orderly, own consciences. From the moment they pest-tost, weather-beaten bark, barely escaped systematic, and persevering industry. They from the jaws of the wild Atlantic, landed upon cultivated, without a murmur, a poor and unthe bleakest shore of New England. From her grateful soil, which even now yields but a stubdeck disembarked a hundred and one care-worn born bedience to the dominion of the plough. exiles. To the casual observer no event could They made no search for gold, nor tortured the seem more insignificant. The contemptuous eye | miserable savages to wring from them the disof the world scarcely deigned to notice it. Yet the covery of imaginary mines. Though landed by famous vessel that bore Cæsar and his fortunes, a treacherous pilot upon a barren and inhospicarried but an ignoble freight compared with table coast, they sought neither richer fields nor that of the Mayflower. Her little band of pil- a more genial climate. They found liberty, and grims brought with them neither wealth nor for the rest it mattered little. For more than power, but the principles of civil and religious eleven years they had meditated upon their enfreedom. They planted them, for the first time, terprise, and it was no small matter could turn in the Western Continent. They cherished, them from its completion. On the spot where cultivated and developed them to a full and first they rested from their wanderings, with luxuriant maturity; and then furnished them stern and high resolve, they built their little to their posterity as the only sure and perma-city and founded their young republic. There nent foundations for a free government. Upon honesty, industry, knowledge and piety grew up those foundations rests the fabric of our great together in happy union. There, in patriarchal Republic upon those principles depends the simplicity and republican equality, the Pilgrim career of human liberty. Little did the miser-Fathers and Mothers passed their honorable able pedant and bigot who then wielded the days, leaving to their posterity the invaluable sceptre of Great Britain, imagine that from this legacy of their principles and example. feeble settlement of persecuted and despised Puritans, in a century and a half, would arise a nation capable of coping with his own mighty empire in arts and arms. It is not my purpose to enter into the history of the Pilgrims; to recount the bitter persecutions and ignominious sufferings which drove them from England; to tell of the eleven years of peace and quiet spent in Holland, under their beloved and venerated pastor; nor to describe the devoted patriotism which prompted them to plant a colony in some distant land, where they could remain citizens of their native country and at the same time be removed from its oppressions: where they could enjoy liberty without violating allegiance. Neither shall I speak of the perils of their adventurous voyage; of the hardships of their early settlement; of the famine which prostrated, and the pestilence which consumed them. with that of the adventurers of other nations Discoverer, like a devouring pestilence. His plunged into the primeval forests, crossed rivers, Pitiless as the blood-hound by his side, he lakes, and mountains, and penetrated to the very heart of the continent. No region, howWith all these things you are familiar, both uriant in production, could tempt his stay. In ever rich in soil, delicious in climate, or luxfrom the page of history and from the lips of vain the soft breeze of the tropics, laden with tradition. On occasions similar to this, the aromatic fragrance, wooed him to rest; in vain ablest and most honored sons of New England the smiling valleys, covered with spontaneous have been accustomed to tell, with touching fruits and flowers, invited him to peaceful quiet. eloquence, the story of their sufferings, their His search was still for gold: the accursed hunfortitude, their perseverance, and their success. ger could not be appeased. The simple natives With pious care, they have gathered and pre-gazed upon him in superstitious wonder, and worshipped him as a god; and he proved to them a god, but an infernal one-terrible, cruel and remorseless. With bloody hands he tore the ornaments from their persons, and the shrines from their altars: he tortured them to discover hidden treasure, and slew them that he might search, even in their wretched throats, for concealed gold. Well might the miserable Indians imagine that a race of evil deities had come among them, more bloody and relentless than those who presided over their own sanguinary rites. Now let us turn to the pilgrims. They, too, were tempted; and had they yielded to the temptation how different might have been the destinies of this continent -how different must have been our own! Previous to their undertaking, the old world was filled with strange and wonderful accounts of the new. The unbounded wealth, drawn by the Spaniards from Mexico and South America, seemed to afford rational support for the wildest assertions. Each succeeding adventurer, returning from his voyage, added to the Arabian tales a still more extravagant story. At length Sir Walter Raleigh, the most accomplished and distinguished of all those bold voyagers, announced to the world his discovery of the province of Guiana, and its magnificent capital, the farfamed city of El Dorado. We smile now at his account of the "great and golden city," and "the mighty, rich, and beautiful empire." We can hardly imagine that any one could have believed, for a moment, in their existence. At that day, however, the whole matter was received with the most implicit faith. Sir Walter professed to have explored the country, and thus glowingly describes it from his own observation: "I never saw a more beautiful country, nor more lively prospects; hills so raised here and there over the valleys the river winding into divers branches-the plains adjoining, without bush or stubble—all fair green grass-the deer crossing in every path-the birds, towards the evening, singing on every tree with a thousand several tunes the air fresh, with a gentle easterly wind: and every stone that we stopped to take up promised either gold or silver by its complexion. For health, good air, pleasure, and riches, I am resolved it cannot be equalled by any region either in the east or west." The pilgrims were urged, in leaving Holland, to seek this charming country, and plant their colony among its Arcadian bowers. Well might the poor wanderers cast a longing glance towards its happy valleys, which seemed to invite to pious contemplation and peaceful labor. Well might the green grass, the pleasant groves, the tame deer, and the singing birds allure them to that smiling land beneath the equinoctial line. But while they doubted not the existence of this wondrous region, they resisted its tempting charms. They had resolved to vindicate, at the same time, their patriotism and their principles--to add dominion to their native land, and to demonstrate to the world the practicability of civil and religious liberty. After full discussion and mature deliberation, they determined that their great objects could be best accomplished by a settlement on some portion of the northern continent, which would hold out no temptation to cupidity-no inducement to persecution. Putting aside, then, all considerations of wealth and ease, they addressed themselves with high resolution to the accomplishment of their noble purpose. In the language of the historian, "trusting to God and themselves," they embarked upon their perilous enterprise. As I said before, I shall not accompany them on their adventurous voyage. On the 22d day of December, 1620, according to our present computation, their footsteps pressed the famous rock which has ever since remained sacred to their venerated memory. Poets, painters, and orators have tasked their powers to do justice to this great scene. Indeed, it is full of moral grandeur; nothing can be more beautiful, more pathetic, or more sublime. Behold the pilgrims, as they stood on that cold December day-stern men, gentle women, and feeble children-all uniting in singing a hymn of cheerful thanksgiving to the good God, who had conducted them safely across the mighty deep, and permitted them to land upon that sterile shore. See how their upturned faces glow with a pious confidence which the sharp winter winds cannot chill, nor the gloomy forest shadows darken: "Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted came; In silence and in fear They shook the depths of the desert gloom Noble and pious band! your holy confidence was not in vain : your "hymns of lofty cheer" find echo still in the hearts of grateful millions. Your descendants, when pressed by adversity, or when addressing themselves to some high action, turn to the "Landing of the pilgrims," and find heart for any fate-strength for any enterprise. How simple, yet how instructive, are the annals of this little settlement. In the cabin of the Mayflower they settled a general form of government, upon the principles of a pure democracy. In 1636, they published a declaration of rights, and established a body of laws. The first fundamental article was in these words: "That no act, imposition, law, or ordinance be made, or imposed upon us, at present or to come, but such as has been or shall be enacted by the consent of the body of freemen or associates, or their representatives legally assembled," &c. Here we find advanced the whole principle of the Revolution--the whole doctrine of our republican institutions. Our fathers, a hundred to all alike, as the Spartans served their food upon the public table. Here young Ambition climbs his little ladder, and boyish Genius plumes his half fledged wing. From among these laughing children will go forth the men who are to control the destinies of their age and country; the statesman whose wisdom is to guide the Senate the poet who will take captive the years before the Revolution, tested successfully, as far as they were concerned, the principle of self-government, and solved the problem, whether law and order can co-exist with liberty. But let us not forget that they were wise and good men who made the noble experiment, and that it may yet fail in our hands, unless we imitate their patriotism and virtues. There are some who find fault with the char-hearts of the people and bind them together acter of the pilgrims-who love not the simplicity of their manners, nor the austerity of their lives. They were men, and of course imperfect; but the world may well be challenged to point out in the whole course of history, men of purer purpose or braver action-men who have exercised a more beneficial influence upon the destinies of the human race, or left behind them more enduring memorials of their existence. At all events, it is not for the sons of New England to search for the faults of their ancestors. We gaze with profound veneration upon their awful shades; we feel a grateful pride in the country they colonized, in the institutions they founded, in the example they bequeathed. We exult in our birth-place and in our lineage. Who would not rather be of the pilgrim stock than claim descent from the proudest Norman that ever planted his robber blood in the halls of the Saxon, or the noblest paladin that quaffed wine at the table of Charlemagne ? Well may we be proud of our native land, and turn with fond affection to its rocky shores. The spirit of the pilgrims still pervades it, and directs its fortunes. Behold the thousand temples of the Most High, that nestle in its happy valleys and crown its swelling hills. See how their glittering spires pierce the blue sky, and seem like so many celestial conductors, ready to avert the lightning of an angry heaven. The piety of the pilgrim patriarchs is not yet extinct, nor have the sons forgotten the God of their fathers. Behold yon simple building near the crossing of the village road! It is small and of rude construction, but stands in a pleasant and quiet spot. A magnificent old elm spreads its broad arms above and seems to lean towards it, as a strong man bends to shelter and protect a child. A brook runs through the meadow near, and hard by there is an orchard-but the trees have suffered much and bear no fruit, except upon the most remote and inaccessible branches. From within its walls comes a busy hum, such as you may hear in a disturbed bee-hive. Now peep through yonder window and you will see a hundred children, with rosy cheeks, mischievous eyes and demure faces, all engaged, or pretending to be so, in their little lessons. It is the public school-the free, the common schoolprovided by law: open to all: claimed from the community as a right, not accepted as a bounty. Here the children of the rich and poor, high and low, meet upon perfect equality, and commence under the same auspices the race of life. Here the sustenance of the mind is served up with immortal song-the philosopher who, boldly seizing upon the elements themselves, will compel them to his wishes, and, through new combinations of their primal laws, by some great discovery, revolutionize both art and science. The common village school is New England's fairest boast-the brightest jewel that adorns her brow. The principle that society is bound to provide for its members' education as well as protection, so that none need be ignorant except from choice, is the most important that belongs to modern philosophy. It is essential to a republican government. Universal education is not only the best and surest, but the only sure foundation for free institutions. True liberty is the child of knowledge; she pines away and dies in the arms of ignorance. Honor, then, to the early fathers of New England, from whom came the spirit which has built a schoolhouse by every sparkling fountain, and bids all come as freely to the one as to the other. All honor, too, to this noble city, who has not disdained to follow the example of her northern sisters, but has wisely determined that the intellectual thirst of her children deserves as much attention as their physical, and that it is as much her duty to provide the means of assuaging the one as of quenching the other. But the spirit of the pilgrims survives, not only in the knowledge and piety of their sons, but, most of all, in their indefatigable enterprise and indomitable perseverance. They have wrestled with nature till they have prevailed against her, and compelled her reluctantly to reverse her own laws. The sterile soil has become productive under their sagacious culture, and the barren rock, astonished, finds itself covered with luxuriant and unaccustomed verdure. Upon the banks of every river they build temples to industry, and stop the squanderings of the spendthrift waters. They bind the naïades of the brawling stream. They drive the dryades from their accustomed haunts, and force them to desert each favorite grove; for upon river, creek and bay they are busy transforming the crude forest into stanch and gallant vessels. From every inlet or indenture along the rocky shore swim forth these ocean birdsborn in the wild wood, fledged upon the wave. Behold how they spread their white pinions to the favoring breeze, and wing their flight to every quarter of the globe-the carrier pigeons of the world! It is upon the unstable element the sons of New England have achieved their greatest triumphs. Their adventurous prows |