pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former | were sown for you; the latter | sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years | have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted for ever | from its face | a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education | have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain, but how unlike their bold, untameable progenitors!* Section 3. The Indian, of falcont glance, and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone; and his degraded offspring | crawl upon the soil | where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man | when the foot of the conqueror | is on his neck. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council fire | has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry | is fast dying | to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly | they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom | in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them | for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive‡ white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder ¦ on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder | to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators.§ Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people. * Progenitors, forefathers. ↑ Falcon, pronounced fawk'n-like a hawk. t Inquisitive, inquiring with curiosity. › Exterminators, those who drove them away WHILE We bring our offerings | for the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous* spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and wo? Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of glory, let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot | where the bones of your Bold repose; but forget not those who with your Bold went out to battle. Among these men of noble daring, there was ONE, a young and gallantf stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor, were not his people; he knew them only | in the wicked story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch. striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave | to hide his cold heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood, his kinsmen were about him, his wife was before him. Section 2. Like a lofty Yet from all these he turned away, and came. tree, that shakes down its green glories | to battle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings‡ of place and pride, to crusade for freedom, in freedom's holy land. He came― but not in the day of successful rebellion, not when the newrisen sun of independence | had burst the cloud of time and careered to its place in the heavens. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife Chivalrous, brave. ↑ Gallant, brave. t Trappings, ornaments. was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death damp | from the brow of her lover. He came | when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious | to doubt the favor of God. come. It was then that this ONE joined the ranks of a revolted* people. Freedom's little phalanxt bade him a grateful wel. With them he courted the battle's rage, with their's his arm was lifted; with their's his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled | on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven | from the temple of liberty, and | at her pure shrine | the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet | towards his long-deserted home Section 3. After nearly fifty years that ONE has come again. Can mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes round him. Old men bless him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him, the learned deck their halls to greet him, the rulers of the land rise up to do aim homage. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days, he treads the high places | where his brethren moulder, he bends | before the tomb of his "FATHER:"-his words are tears: the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round | upon a ransomed land | and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings | those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which that " FATHER" lived; and again his words are tears; the eloquence of gratitude and joy. Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitude revive; and of all the pageant splendors that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye | on a sight like this! * Revolted, rebellious, that had renounced allegiance to their king. Phalanx, a body of soldiers. Of all the myriads | that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow | for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom | in the cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their own people, but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome | with another : Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him. for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of liberty | shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE! THIRTY-THIRD LESSON. ENGLISH TAXES. Edinburgh Review. PERMIT me to inform you, my friends, what are the inevitable consequences | of being too fond of glory;-Taxes—upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under the foot-taxes upon everything | which is pleasant to see, hear, feel, smell, or taste-taxes upon warmth, light, and locomotion*-taxes on everything on earth, and the waters under the earth-on everything that comes from abroad, or is grown at home-taxes on the raw material— taxes on every fresh value | that is added to it | by the industry of man-taxes on the sauce | which pampers man's appetite, and the drug | which restores him to health—on the ermine* | which decorates the judge, and the rope which hangs the criminal-on the poor man's salt, and the rich man's spice -on the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribands of the bride. * Section 2. The school-boy | whips his taxed top-the beardless youth manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, | on a taxed road; and the dying Englishman | pouring his medicine Locomotion, act of moving from one place to another. which has paid seven per cent. into a spoon | that has paid fifteen per cent.-flings himself back | upon his chintz bed | which has paid twenty-two per cent.—makes his will | on an eight pound stamp, and expires | in the arms of an apothecary, who has paid a license of a hundred pounds | for the privilege | of putting him to death. His whole property | is then immediately taxed | from two to ten per cent. Besides the probate, large fees are demanded for burying him | in the chancel; his virtues are handed down to posterity | on taxed marbie, and he is then gathered to his fathers,—to be taxed no more. THIRTY-FOURTH LESSON. SOUTH CAROLINA.-. Section 1. If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President (and I say it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge comparison | with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that state | is South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the revolution | up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made; no service | she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity, but in your adversity she has clung to you | with more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic* affairs, though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, the call of the country | has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord† ceased | at the sound-every man became at once | reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina | were all seen | crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the south | during the revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct | in that glorious struggle: but great as is the praise | which belongs to her, I think at least | equal honor is due to the south. * Domestic, belonging to home. † Domestic discord, discord in our own country |