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serves. I feel therefore that I may safely call on the members of this house-on the votaries of science-the friends of humanity and morals-the philanthropist and the patriot, to unite with me in strewing flowers on his bier; and in compliance with usages rendered holy by the purest feelings of our nature, to join in a solemn expression of respect for his memory, and of sorrow for his loss.
Extract from Mr. LIVINGSTON's Speech in the Assembly, on the Bill making an Appropriation for the Minor Chil dren of DE WITT CLINTON.
It is with great regret that I shall vote against the second section of the bill upon your table. All the warm and more kind emotions of generosity; the ardent ebullitions of feeling, the sympathies of the heart, urge me to a contrary course; but the stern dictates of justice, a firm belief that such is my duty, compels me to it. To do so, sir, requires no small effort-On whatsoever side I turn, the emblems of mourning are presented. A nation deplores the loss of one of her brightest sons-each heart, not only within these walls, but of every child of America, of every citizen of this state, sympathizes with my own in lamenting the bereavement. He who has added to the honours of our state, monuments of imperishable glory. He whose luminous mind, brilliant conceptions, persevering industry, and indefatigable labours, have conceived and matured those vast works which have given a fame to our state, exalting her high in the scale of nations, has been suddenly cut down by the fell destroyer, and has left a family whose necessities are great, and whose circumstances demand our pity. Every nerve, susceptible of the touch of sensibility, every thrilling sensation of the soul is called into exercise in their behalf; but before we can indulge them, the objection presented by the section under consideration, must be removed. If it does not expressly declare, it implies that a legal demand exists on the part of Mr. Clinton, against this state, for services rendered as a canal commissionSir, I cannot consent to vote for such an admission. It has been correctly remarked, that public fame is public property-In return for that, I would bestow the bounty of the state. What a rich inheritance has De Witt Clinton left us. The age in which he lived, proclaims his fame-the patriot and the statesman unite in eulogising his talents-the wise and the good exalt his virtues-nay, even the asperities of party are bu
ried in his tomb, and those who opposed him in his life time, now chant his praise. And, sir, unusual as it is for such an universal plaudit to resound throughout the nation, ere yet the sod is green upon his grave, it is not ephemeral. That plaudit shall increase with successive generations, and as long as your country shall occupy a page in the history of nations, his fame will be found conspicuously stamped upon it. What is there that more exalts our pride of country, than to be enabled to claim as her offspring, a Washington, a Hamilton, a Jefferson, a Clinton? Men, who regardless of private interest, have devoted their time and talents to the service of their country, and who have left to her the rich inheritance of their fame. Is there a bosom that does not swell with pride, whilst we exclaim-those were my countrymen? Is there an heart that does not thrill with delight whilst we claim them as brethren of our republic? And must I ask, is there among us one whose conscience is so warped by miserly economy, that he would withhold the pittance necessary to preserve them from want? Sir, I cannot believe it. Amend that section so as to remove the idea of legal indebtedness, and then I trust every member of this committee will vote for it. The shame of ingratitude which has so often attached itself to republics, should be removed. A more fitting occasion never presented itself to commence this work of reform. Instances have heretofore occurred, which deservedly fastened this stigma upon us. Not long since the immortal Fulton was removed from this world of care. He also bequeathed to this land the renown of his genius, the benefit of his talents. He also left infants in want, whose claims deserved a return from your generosity, if not from your justice. They were disregarded-a foul stain rests upon the escutcheon of your fame. I hope the time will yet arrive when it may be removed. Add not one that will be indelible. Let this occasion be seized with avidity, to proclaim that New-York will ever consider the orphans of her benefactors, children of the republic, worthy of her nurture, sure of her bounty; and when hereafter others, whose public services have benefitted the state, shall pay the debt of nature, to their offspring also extend the fostering arm of protection and supply. Then will the statesman, while pursuing the arduous labours of his station, bend every faculty of his mind to the good of his country, unshackled by the fetters of poverty, or the dread of leaving his children destitute and forlorn. Then will the warrior rush undaunted to the charge, confident that if he falls in his country's cause, his children will find a father and brethren with his countrymen. Then also will be added to democracy the virtue of gratitude-magnanimous gratitude. Con
gress has led the advance-the appropriations made to La Fayette evince the gratitude of a republic. He, a warm enthusiast in the cause of liberty, embarked both fortune and life in her support. He gained all he expected, the triumph of victory, with a fame of unfading, undying renown. He sought no more; but in his declining years, when fortune was adverse to him, this Union, in part, paid her debt of gratitude. That debt will always be unextinguishable; but it is a pleasing reflection, that we have manifested our feelings-So let us in this case openly avow our intentions in making this grant, by adopting the substitute, and glory in the avowal.
Tradition of the Indians concerning the Mammoth.-Ascribed to Mr. JEFFERSON.
Ten thousand moons ago, when nought but gloomy forests covered the land of the sleeping sun; long before pale men with thunder and fire at their command, rushed on the wings of the wind to ruin this garden of nature; when nought but the untamed wanderers of the wood, and men as unrestrained as they, were the lords of the soil, a race of animals were in being, huge as the frowning precipice, cruel as the bloody panther, swift as the descending eagle, and terrible as the angel of night. The pines crashed beneath their feet, and the lake shrunk when they slacked their thirst; the forceful javelin in vain was hurled, and the barbed arrows fell harmless from their sides. Forests were laid waste at a meal; the groans of expiring animals were every where heard, and whole villages inhabited by men were destroyed in a moment. The cry of univer sal distress extended even to the region of peace, in the west, and the great Spirit interposed to save the unhappy. The forked lightning gleamed all around, and loudest thunder rocked the globe. The bolts of heaven were hurled upon the cruel destroyers alone, and the mountains echoed with the bellowings of death. All were killed, except one male, the fiercest of the race, and him even the artillery of the skies assailed in vain. He ascended the bluest summit, which shades the source of the Monongahela, and roaring aloud, bid defiance to every vengeance. The red lightning scorched the lofty firs, and rived the knotty oaks, but only glanced upon the enraged monster. At length, maddened with fury, he leaped over the waves of the west with a bound, and there at this moment, reigns the uncontrolled monarch of the wilderness.
Extract from Mr. BURGESS' Oration, 4th of July, 1801..
Those rivers which fertilize and gladden the vallies of our country, are received into the bosom of that ocean whose billows lave the shores, and drink the turbid streams that roll along the brown desarts of Africa. If nature has scattered any of her gifts on these arid realms, the savage inhabitant has left all things devoid of culture, to degenerate into the sterility of a wilderness. From Babelmandel to Caffraria, from Good Hope to Mauritania, the eye ranges along in vain to find the mart of commerce, the vale of agriculture, the temple of devotion, the abodes of smiling civility, and realms where peace, indepen dence and freedom reside. The pale rose that blossoms there, scatters its blighted leaves on the blast of the desart. There the superstitious native mutters his evening ejaculations to the moon, who, with a sickly visage looks down, and hurries o'er the waste of Zara. Avarice, solitary avarice visits these shores, picks the golden atoms from the sand, and begs, or buys, or steals the miserable native. Look from Atlas to the Nile! It is the waste of desolation, or the den of more than ferocious barbarity. Here you start at the tiger growling behind the ruins of Carthage; there you behold the successors of Barbarossa, training their banditti on those very plains which in the Augustan age of Rome were the garden of the world.
On Asia, the residence of man in all his primitive blessedness; that region of the world of which Paradise was the epitome; on Asia seems to have alighted the curse of human disobedience, and doomed millions of its inhabitants to savageness or slavery. The brown Tartar who wanders on the mountains of Mongalia, is no more a civilized man than his Scythian ancestor, who prowled the same desart 2000 years ago. The artful Chinese is cheated into slavery, and trembles when he thinks on the tyrant of Pekin. The torpid Gentoo may be pa tient, but he must feel the scourge of European rapacity-he must shrink when the tyrant of Delhi lays on him the iron scep tre of oppression. What think you of the courtly and hospita ble Persian? The will of a cruel and capricious monarch, is the terrible law of his destiny. Amidst the profusion of his native country, he cannot even call the water which he dips from the brook his own: some instrument of despotism may dash the untasted moisture from him. The cold hand of oppression has blighted all the fair regions of Asiatic Turkey. Where once industry and opulence resided, desolation now stalks over the ruins of ancient grandeur, and slavery, recumbent on her chain, looks with a pallid visage o'er the unculturs ed fields.
Who of us would be an European? From the founding of Argos, the first city in Europe, to Nelson's war on the Baltic, a duration of almost 4000 years, although many, very many splendid achievements glitter along across the track of ages, and light the eye of recollection back towards the dusky origin of man, yet how often has that country been the scene of all that could sink or sicken the pride of humanity? Devastated countries, nations enslaved, and perishing empires! What does Europe now exhibit to the world? Conquest like the encroaching billows of the ocean has swept away the lesser states, and buried them forever in its deluge. Venice, once the pride of the Adriatic, whose fleets poured out the warriors of the cross along the rocky shores of Palestine; whose heroes on the walls of Candia, fought the whole force of the Ottoman power, and for twenty years, amidst the storms of more than fifty battles, stood the unshaken bulwark of christendom; Venice is now but a palsied member of mutilated Austria. The other republics scattered over the Alps, from the banks of the Mediterranean to the confines of Germany, where are they? Historic curiosity may read the names of Lucca, Genoa, Geneva, and the once famed confederacy of Switzerland-weeping humanity may gaze on their vallies, their rocks, and their mountains, but she will find their independence and their freedom no more.
Extract from ROBERT HALL'S Sermon on the Death of Rev. JOHN RYLAND.
If the mere conception of the reunion of good men in a future state, infused a momentary rapture in the mind of Tully; if an airy speculation, for there is reason to fear it had little hold on his conviction, could inspire him with such delight, what may we be expected to feel, who are assured of such an event by the true sayings of God. How should we rejoice in the prospect, the certainty rather, of spending a blissful eternity with those whom we loved on earth-of seeing them emerge from the ruins of the tomb, and the deeper ruins of the fall, not only uninjured, but refined and perfected, with every tear wiped from their eyes, standing before the throne of God and the Lamb, in white robes and palms in their hands, crying with a loud voice, salvation to God, that sitteth upon the throne and to the Lamb, for ever and ever! what delight will it afford to renew the sweet counsel we have taken together, to recount the teils of combat and the labour of the way; and to approach,