It was, at first, little else but a passion, giving rise to violent outbreaks, contentions between different tribes, internal commotions, and bloodshed.

But every struggle for mastery, every popular tumult, every revolution, every law enacted and repealed, every advance in the sciences, or the arts, were so many steps towards the goal of a perfect state.

And, judging from the elements which then exist, mainly in a chaotic state indeed, but developed somewhat clearly in the constitutions of Athens and Sparta-who can tell but that Greece would have ulti mately attained to the proud eminence America now occupies, had not the spirit of freedom, which burned so brightly while it lasted, been quenched in blood by Roman power.

This, then, opens to our view another phase. For centuries, Society, in Italy, had been seeking to carry out its great ends by means of a Government, entirely dissimilar in all its developments. The mind seemed to have run into an opposite extreme from the one just mentioned, and instead of freedom and popular constitution, we behold it sanctioning the enactment of the several laws, and enforced by the most rigid penalties.

From the elements of Roman character, arose a Government in some respects, the most terrible that ever held sway over mankind. Power, the power of law, was the truncheon which the Roman placed in the hands of his Government; law, which, in its execution, could quench a Brutus' tears, and triumph sternly over sympathy and natural affection; law, which stalked abroad, a thing of life, throughout the whole domain of Roman rule, frowning the nations into reverence and servile submission. Rome was the land of law-and this was her highest glory and her proudest boast.

But this could not, or did not, save her from destruction. For when at the acme of her greatness, the elements from which she sprung, and from which she derived her strength, began to commingle with other, and foreign elements-civil discord wasted her matchless energyluxury relaxed her grasp of iron strength, and when the barbarian came she fell, to rise no more.

Behold another phase-the chaotic state into which every thing was thrown at the fall of the Empire.

It will be seen, by reference to history, that the various and almost numberless forms of Government which sprung into being from that time till the partial fashion under the Feudal system, and thence on to the birth-day of English freedom, were but the indices-the premature developments of the restless and ever changing public mind. The world without was a perfect type of the world within.

Government in the hands of the State, was vainly endeavoring to mingle into one consistent whole, the Christian principle and the two great elements of which I have spoken-the Democratic and Legal element. I say vainly, because the mind was not free to act. Though, at times, sufficiently developed, it was, nevertheless, shackled and bound down by deep rooted customs and a tyrannical Government.

This was true even as late as Charles I. and Cromwell. Under in

fluences so unpropitious, it was impossible to unite these elements, or mature a perfect system.

The keen, far-reaching mind of the Puritan fathers saw and felt all this. A glance at their position showed them that they needed a larger, freer field for the full development of their principles, and, directed by the God of nations, they sought it in the new world.

Here, then, is another and a different phase. From the Puritan element, a national Government arose, combining the three great principles partially evolved by the struggles of so many centuries-uniting the extremes of each, and comprehending, it is believed, the elements of a perfect Government.

But sufficient has been said to make it obvious that Government must vary with the varying phases of the mind-and we have no reason to expect that our present form, model as it is, of the ideal perfection, will be essentially different, in this respect, from all other Governments.

No man can say that, because we have these elemetns fortunately mingled here for the first time, or at least in the best manner, therefore we have the just proportions to insure permanence and ultimate perfection. Far otherwise; it is a question of serious import, among our wisest and best statesmen, whether we have not far too large a share of the monarchical element even now-and there are those who think they clearly see a deep under-current setting slowly, yet surely toward monarchy.

Nor are these mere fancies. Usurpation, or, at least, a stretch of power, which, in the early times of our Government, would have met either a decided rebuke, or a direct impeachment; have been knowingly winked at in our day-and this, together with the violent struggles for party domination, and the growing influence of executive patronage, is manifestly tending to centralize and consolidate the in the executive head.

power

But, granting that we stand before the world, the embodiment of that perfection so long expected and so often struggled for, yet it does not prove that our form is universally applicable.

France, in her recent organization, copied as near as she could, with safety-but it is doubtful whether she is a republic only in name.

Her Government stands, as it were, upon a mine which may be sprung at any moment, and scatter it to the winds. It is not less true of the other nations who have revolutionized. They find that there is too much ignorance-too strong prejudices in favor of established forms-too great a love of titles and too great regard for arbitrary distinctions in society. They feel that the foundations for such a Government as ours must be laid deep in the national heart.

Look at another consideration. Our present advancement, even under the most favorable circumstances, has been slowly attained, and what must it be, then, with those tyrant and priest-ridden nations, with whom the system is new, and who have every thing, both within themselves and around them, to contend against?

No! American Republicanism must ever remain, in all its essential

and characteristic features, American! You cannot transplant it to any other soil-you cannot engraft on any other stock.

Nations may bear the Ark of our freedom into their midst, and the Dagon of despotism may fall and be broken before it; but it will be useless in their hands, as they now are, for the priest and the Urim and Thummim are with us, and if this Government endures, these too must vary with that mind under the strong influence of moral and intellectual culture and refinement.

We conclude, then, that it is the duty of wise statesmenship to check and repress radicalism, (which is the making a hobby of a short lived principle,) to look out for, and give a right direction to, the next phase as it springs out of this-and to adopt and advance it when it comesassured that there is a resistless tendency in affairs towards the full emancipation of the human mind and the perfection of human Govern

ment.

As an elegant writer has expressed it. "It possesses all the char

acteristics of a divine decree-it is universal-it is durable-it constantly eludes all human interference-and all events as well as all men contribute to its progress."

"NE-POW-RA."

AN INDIAN LEGEND.

"When an Iudian maiden dies, her friends take a young bird which has just begun to try its powers of song, and loading it with kisses and caresses, set it free over the grave, in the belief that it will neither fold its wings nor close its eyes until it has reached the 'spirit land,' and borne its message of affection to the loved and lost."

NE-POW-RA Wept! The bold, dark eye
That quailed not when the storm flew by,
That saw, unmoved, the warring clouds
Together link'd by chains of fire,

And flashed when'er their phantom crowds
Grew dark and wild with maniac ire,
Was dimm'd with tears! The fearless heart
That danced with joy in battle's hour
To see the smoke of conflict part

Before the cannon's crashing show'r,
That heard the groan-the curse-the cry-
And cared for naught save victory
Now throbb'd with anguish! Drooping low
The war-plume veiled his furrowed brow
Torn by the combat's leaden rain,
And soiled by many a crimson stain.
Clasp'd in his belt, the blunted knife
That oft o'er scenes of warrior strife

Had glared the meteor of the hour,
Like blazing light from beacon tower,
Now hung a bruised and broken blade,
Red as the wreck its sweep had made!
His hatchet thrown-his bow unstrung,
His quiver in the thicket flung,

He stands amid the forest's gloom
A chieftain by his daughter's tomb!

But yesterday the maiden's eye

Shone like the regal diamond's gleam,
And seemed more fit to gem the sky
Than gladden mortals with its beam.
Her step was like the zephyr's tread-
Her raven braids like Pirate plumes—
But ah! death's dart is swiftly sped,

And blasts the flow'ret ere it blooms!
The foemen came! The clang of war,
The rattling wheels of cannon car,
The sabre's sweep-the arrow's flight,
The tramp of steeds o'er vale and height,
Brought terror to the maiden's heart,
And fury to the chieftain's eye:

Made children from their slumbers start,
And summoned men to bleed and die!

Where deepest flowed the streams of blood,
Where loudest rang the notes of war,
Ne-pow-ra, like a monarch stood-
His plume the Red-man's guiding star!
Tall, as the leaf-crown'd forest oak,
Bold, as the steel-clad knights of yore,
Swift, as the lightning's fiery stroke,
Stern, as Gibralter's rock-bound shore,
He moved with heart too proud to yield,
An unchained Tiger o'er the field!

But darker yet his dark brow grew,
And deadlier yet his weapons flew

When, mid the battle's din, he heard
Like plaintive wail of dying bird
Ca-non-dah's prayer-his daughter's cry,
As on the turf she sank to die!

The conflict's roar had marred her rest!
Despair and terror filled her breast
As o'er the warriors battling nigh
Her trembling glance ran hurriedly.
She saw full many an eaglet plume
Go down amid the forest's gloom-

VOL. XIV.

Go down amid the clouds of war

As from its turret falls a star!
She saw her father's arm upraised,

His dripping weapons cleave the air
While veteran soldiers shrank amazed
Before that dark eye's fiendish glare!
She saw the Indian war-braves fall

Like wild tornadoes on the foe:
With shout and yell, that would appal

The bravest heart, strike blow for blow,
And hurl the pale invaders back,
Like rocks that bar a torrent's track!

Too long she gazed! deep in her heart
Death drove his leaden messenger!
Convulsively her white lips part

And life's last ray has dawned on her !
Her long dark tresses garland now
A roseless cheek-a clay-cold brow,
And dimly veil a pulseless breast,
Whose soul has fled to realms of rest.

The conflict ceased! Ne-pow-ra stood
Where late had rolled the battle's flood,
A victor in the contest wild,
A victor-but without a child!
Beneath a tent-like cypress tree
The murdered maiden calmly slept,
And oft the star-bands paused to see
The chief that in its shadow wept.
He missed the glance-the lute-like voice
That charmed his stoic pride away:

The smile that bade his heart rejoice:

The rainbow love that arched his way.
He knew that in the "spirit-land,"
Where waves of gold wash silver sand,
His lost one warbled seraph strains,
And led the chanting angel trains,
Spirit guarded-free from care
And light of heart as summer air.

And while amid the worlds above

His eye traced out that "spirit land," They brought a bird, a fluttering dove, And placed it in his eager hand.

And oh! it was a fairy thing!

That innocent and trembling bird: With pleading eye, and glossy wing, And plumes by every zephyr stirred.

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