and earnestly to beseech him for a continuance of his mercies:-you cannot, my young friends, if you have any feeling-any seriousness about you, regard the exercises of devotion as a task; but must rejoice in it, as an unspeakable privilege, to hold direct intercourse with that great and good Being-that unseen, but universal Spirit, to whose presence all things in heaven and on earth bear witness, and in whom we all live and move and have our being. Thus excite and cherish the spirit of devotion: whenever any thing touches your hearts, or powerfully appeals to your moral feelings-give way to the religious impulse of the occasion, and send up a silent prayer to the Power who heareth in secret. And, in your daily addresses to God, do not confine yourselves to any stated form of words, which may be repeated mechanically, without any concurrence either of the heart or of the head; but, after having reviewed the mercies of your particular condition—after having collected your thoughts, and endeavoured to ascertain the wants and weaknesses of your character-give utterance, in the simple and unstudied language which comes spontaneously to the lips, to all those emotions of gratitude and holy fear, of submission and trust, which cannot fail to arise in your hearts, when you have previously reflected what you are, and find yourselves alone in the presence of an Almighty God.

Beloved friends, yours is the time to cultivate this pure, this heavenly frame of mind. You have as yet known God only in his countenance of love; you have felt his presence only in the communications of his loving-kindness and tender mercy. Your hearts are as yet strangers to the fear of habitual guilt; but swell, with a holy, trembling joy, to think, that He who made heaven and earth is your God and Father, that He who controls the course of nature, and rules the destinies of nations, is not unmindful even of you. Seize, then, oh seize this precious, this golden period of existence! improve it, while it is yours; for, believe me, it will never return again. When the heart has once been alienated from God-when guilt has once polluted it-though repentance and reformation may at length bind up its broken peace, it will never more experience that warmth and fulness of affectionate confidence-that entire and unhesitating trust in the Father of mercies, which belong only to pure and innocent minds. Tayler.

ANCIENT AND MODERN ORATORY.

Hannibal to his Soldiers.

I KNOW not, soldiers, whether you' or your prisoners' be encompassed by fortune' with the stricter bonds' and necessities. Two seas' enclose' you on the right' and left';-not a ship' to flee to for escaping. Before' you is the Po`, a river' broader` and more rapid' than the Rhone'; behind you are the Alps', over which', even when your numbers were undiminished`, you were hardly able to force a passage. Here', then, soldiers, you must either conquer or die', the very` first hour' you meet' the enemy'. But the same fortune which has laid you under the necessity' of fighting, has set before your eyes' those rewards of victory', than which` no` men are ever wont to wish for greater' from the immortal gods'. Should we, by our valour, recover only Sicily' and Sardinia', which were ravished from our fathers', those would be no inconsiderable' prizes. Yet, what are these ? The wealth of Rome', whatever riches she has heaped together in the spoils of nations', all these', with the masters' of them, will be yours. You have been long enough employed in driving the cattle upon the vast mountains of Lusitania` and Celtiberia'; you have hitherto met with no reward worthy' the labours' and dangers' you have undergone. The time is now come to reap the full' recompense of your toilsome marches over so many mountains and rivers,' and through so many nations', all' of them in arms'. This is the place, which fortune has appointed to be the limits' of your labours; it is here` that you will finish' your glorious warfare, and receive an ample' recompense' of your completed' service. For I would not have you imagine, that victory will be as difficult as the name of a Roman war is great and sounding'. It has often happened, that a despised' enemy has given` a bloody'

* Relative emphasis. In his contempt for the Romans, he treats them as if they were already conquered.

battle', and the most renowned` kings` and nations' have by a small' force been overthrown'. And if you but take away the glitter of the Roman name', what is there, wherein they may stand in competition with you`? For'-to say nothing of your service in war for twenty years together, with so much valour and success'-from the very pillars of Hercules, from the ocean', from the utmost bounds of the earth`, through so many warlike nations of Spain and Gaul, are you not come hither victorious'? And with whom are you now' to fight? With raw soldiers, an undisciplined' army, beaten, vanquished`, besieged by the Gauls the very last summer', an army unknown' to their leader, and unacquainted with him.

Or shall I', who was-born', I might almost say-but certainly brought up', in the tent of my father, that most excellent general'; shall I', the conqueror of Spain' and Gaul', and not only of the Alpine' nations', but, which is greater yet, of the Alps themselves`; shall I' compare myself with this half-year' captain'?-A captain'! before whom, should one place the two armies without their ensigns', I am persuaded he would not know to which of them he is consul! I esteem it no small advantage, soldiers, that there is not one' among you', who has not often been an eye-witness of my' exploits in war; not one', of whose valour I myself have not been a spectator', so as to be able to name the times' and places' of his noble achievements; that with soldiers, whom I have a thousand' times praised' and rewarded', and whose pupil` I was before I became their general', I shall march against an army of men', strangers' to one another.

On what side soever I turn my eyes', I behold all full of courage' and strength`; a veteran' infantry'! a most gallant' cavalry`! you, my allies, most faithful` and valiant'; you, Carthaginians', whom not only your country's' cause, but the justest anger', impels' to battle. The hope', the courage' of assailants', is always greater than of those who act upon the defensive'. With hostile banners displayed, you are come down upon Italy`; you` bring the war. `Grief“, injuries`, indignities', fire your minds, and spur you forward to revenge. First, they demanded me'; that I', your general', should be delivered up to them; next, all of you', who had fought at the siege of Saguntum'; and we were to be put to death by the extremest' tortures'. Proud' and cruel nation! Every thing must be yours', and at your

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disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom we shall make war', with whom we shall make peace! You are to set us bounds`; to shut us up within hills' and rivers`; but you—you are not to observe the limits which yourselves' have fixed!" Pass not the Iberus`." What next? "Touch not the Saguntines`;" Saguntum is upon the Iberus. Move not a step towards that city." Is it a small' matter, then, that you have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sardinia'; you would have Spain' too? Well, we shall yield' Spain; and then-you will pass into Africa! Will' pass, did I say? This' very' year they ordered one of their consuls into Africa'; the other', into Spain'. No', soldiers, there is nothing` left' for us but what we can vindicate with our swords'. Come on then! Be' men'! The Romans' may with more safety' be cowards'. They have their own country behind them', have places of refuge to flee' to, and are secure from danger' in the roads' thither; but for you' there is no' middle' fortune' between death' and victory. Let this be but well' fixed' in your minds', and once again', I say'-you are conquerors'! Livy.

Speech of Lord Chatham, in the House of Peers, against the American War, and against employing the Indians in it.

I CANNOT, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation: the smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelope it; and display, in its full danger and genuine colours, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt! "But yesterday, and Britain might have stood against the world: now, none so poor as to do her reverence."-The people whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied with

every military store, have their interest consulted, and their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate enemyand ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honours the British troops than I do; I know their virtues and their valour; I know they can achieve any thing but impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of British America is an impossibility. You cannot, my Lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst: but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot: your attempts will be for ever vain and impotent -doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to over-run them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American- -as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms;Never!-never!-never!

But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgraces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage?—to call into civilized alliance, the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods?-to delegate to the merciless Indian, the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality; "for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means, which God and nature have put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country. My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your attention; but I cannot repress my indignation— I feel myself impelled to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity!" That God and nature have put into our hands!" What ideas of God and