power, and purity of character, that I would have you to resemble; and I would have you, like the waters of the ocean, to become the purer by your own action.

XLIII.

Right of Free Discussion.-WEBSTER. IMPORTANT as I deem it to discuss, on all proper occasions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is still more important to maintain the right of such discussion, in its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now growing fashionable, make it necessary to be explicit on this point. The more I perceive a disposition to check the freedom of inquiry by extravagant and unconstitutional pretences, the firmer shall be the tone, in which I shall assert, and the freer the manner, in which I shall exercise it.

It is the ancient and undoubted prerogative of this people to canvass public measures and the merits of public men. It is a "home bred right," a fireside privilege. It hath ever been enjoyed in every house, cottage and cabin in the nation. It is not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as the right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth. Belonging to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty; and it is the last duty, which those, whose representative I am, shall find me to abandon. Aiming at all times to be courteous and temperate in its use, except when the right itself shall be questioned, I shall then carry it to its extent. I shall place myself on

the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any arm that would move me from my ground.

This high constitutional privilege, I shall defend and exercise, within this house, and without this house, and in all places; in time of peace, and at all times. Living I shall assert it; and should I leave no other inheritance to my children, by the blessing of God, I will leave them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a manly, independent and constitutional defence of them.

XLIV.

Speech in the Convention of Virginia.-RAN

DOLPH.

MR CHAIRMAN-I must notice a topic of the gravest character which has been several times brought to our view, by eastern members, in the course of debate. I mean a separation of the state-at one time gently insinuated-at another wrapped up in beautiful rhetorical language, and finally expressed in what has been emphatically called plain old English. I am not disposed, sir, to regard such menaces, because I am aware of the extremities of intellectual warfare, and can estimate the effervescence of momentary excitement. They would not be impressed upon my mind, but for a corresponding sentiment which I have reason to believe prevails amongst the western people. 1 do not say that if slave representation should be forced upon them, they will raise the standard of rebellion, or in any wise resist the constituted

authorities. Far from it. But within the pale of the constitution and laws, they will carry their opposition to the utmost limit; and the members of this committee can estimate the feelings of hostility by which it will be accompanied. The final result will be a separation of the state. No one can doubt that if such an event should be perseveringly, though peaceably sought, by a large portion of the state, it would be ultimately conceded.

I beg, sir, to be distinctly understood. There is no one in this committee to whom the idea of such a separation is more abhorrent than myself. I believe there is no man here who wishes separation for its own sake, or who could contemplate it for a moment, except as a refuge from greater evils.

We should look forward to such a calamity, only to deprecate and avoid it. Surely, it will not, must not be. Separate Virginia! Shall she be shorn of her strength, her influence and her glory? Shall her voice of command, of persuasion and reproof, be no longer heard in ' the national councils? Shall she no more be looked up to as the guide of the strong, the guardian of the weak, and the protector of the oppressed? Break in twain the most precious jewel, and the separated parts are comparatively worthless. Divide Virginia, and both the east and the west will sink into insignificance, negleet and contempt.

I would to God, that for this single occasion only, I could utter my feelings in

"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." I would kindle a flame, which should find an altar in every heart-which should burn to

ashes the prejudices of the hour, and the petty interests of the day,-and throw upon, our path of duty a strong and steady light, directing us forward to the permanent welfare, safety and honour of Virginia.

XLV.

Graves of the Patriots.—PERCIVAL.

HERE rest the great and good-here they re

pose

After their generous toil.
A sacred band,
They take their sleep together, while the year
Comes with its early flowers to deck their graves,
And gathers them again, as winter frowns.
Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre; green sods
Are all their monument; and yet it tells
A nobler history than pillared piles,
Or the eternal pyramids. They need
No statue nor inscription to reveal

Their greatness. It is round them; and the joy With which their children tread the hallowed ground

That holds their venerated bones, the peace
That smiles on all they fought for, and the wealth
That clothes the land they rescued, these,
though mute-

As feeling ever is when deepest-these
Are monuments more lasting than the fanes
Reared to the kings and demigods of old.

Touch not the ancient elms, that bend their shade

Over their lowly graves; beneath their boughs There is a solemn darkness, even at noon, Suited to such as visit at the shrine

Of serious liberty. No factious voice
Called them unto the field of generous fame,
But the pure consecrated love of home.
No deeper feeling sways us, when it wakes
In all its greatness. It has told itself
To the astonished gaze of awe-struck kings,
At Marathon, at Bannockburn, and here,
Where first our patriots sent the invader back
Broken and cowed. Let these green elms be all
To tell us where they fought, and where they lie.
Their feelings were all nature, and they need
No art to make them known. They live in us,
While we are like them, simple, hardy, bold,
Worshipping nothing but our own pure hearts,
And the one universal Lord. They need
No column, pointing to the heaven they sought,
To tell us of their home. The heart itself,
Left to its own free purpose, hastens there,
And there alone reposes. Let these elms
Bend their protecting shadow o'er their graves,
And build, with their green roof, the only fane
Where we may gather on the hallowed day,
That rose to them in blood, and set in glory.
Here let us meet, and, while our motionless lips
Give not a sound, and all around is mute
In the deep sabbath of a heart too full
For words or tears,-here let us strew the sod
With the first flowers of spring, and make to them
An offering of the plenty Nature gives,
And they have rendered ours-perpetually.