were hovering over the scene, and waiting with anxiety for a decision which involved the happiness or misery of more than half the human race. To those beings with the same thrilling look and action-he had just addressed an invocation, that made every nerve shudder with supernatural horror-when lo! a storm, at that instant arose, which shook the whole building, and the spirits whom he had called, seemed to have come at his bidding. Nor did his eloquence, or the storm, immediately cease--but, availing himself of the incident, with a master's art, he seemed to mix in the fight of his æthereal auxiliaries, and “rising on the wings of the tempest, to seize upon the artillery of Heaven, and direct its fiercest thunders against the heads of his adversaries.' The scene became insupportable; and the house rose, without the formality of adjournment, the members rushing from their seats with precipitation and confusion."*

The perusal of this paragraph reminded us of a similar scene. A clergyman was delivering a discourse on the attributes, and particularly the majesty of Deity, when the clouds suddenly gathered blackness, and rushed in a tremendous storm upon the church. The thunderbolts of the Almighty shook the hearts of the hearers, and they attributed it to the eloquence of their preach

On the next day they sent a deputation to him, to request a copy of his remarkable sermon for publication. He declined giving it, because he could assure them, that the discourse did not excel those which they commonly heard. They insisted on being indulged with a copy, because they could not think their preacher's judgment of his own work correct. Finally, he said, that he would consent that his sermon should be printed, but only on one condition. The deputation eagerly inquired what the condition might be: and the shrewd clergyman replied, that they should print the thunder, and lightning, and storm, along with his sermon!'

We doubt not but Mr. Henry's hearers started from their seats; and we are well persuaded too, that the winged fires of heaven aided his zeal, in melting their hearts; but could that very tempest be printed, we should then be able to judge whether the storm or the eloquence of man gave the greater part of the electrical shock to the minds of the delegates. For an account of Mr. Henry's most celebrated speech, we must refer our readers to the book under review. After giving us an account of his having procured the acquital of one who ought to have been hung, the author amuses us with the following recital.

"Mr. Henry was not less successful in the comic line, when it became necessary to resort to it. You have, no doubt, heard how he defeated John Hook, by raising the cry of beef against him. I will give

* The words above quoted are those of judge Archibald Stuart; a gentleman who was present, a member of the convention, and one of those who voted against the side of the question, supported by Mr. Henry. The incident as given in the text, is wholly founded on the statements of those who were witnesses of the scene; and by comparing it with the corresponding passage in the printed debates, the reader may decide how far these are to be relied on, as specimens of Mr. Henry's eloquence.

you a similar instance. In the year 1792, there were many suits on the south side of James river, for inflicting Lynch's law.* A verdict of five hundred pounds had been given in Prince Edward district court, in a case of this kind. This alarmed the defendant in the next case, who employed Mr. Henry to defend him. The case was, that a wagoner and the plaintiff were travelling to Richmond together, when the wagoner knocked down a turkey, and put it into his wagon. Complaint was made to the defendant, a justice of the peace; both the parties were taken up, and the wagoner agreed to take a whipping, rather than be sent to jail: but the plaintiff refused: the justice, however, gave him also a small flagellation; and for this the suit was brought. The plaintiff, by way of taking off the force of the defence, insisted, that he was wholly innocent of the act committed. Mr. Henry, on the contrary, contended, that he was a party present, aiding and assisting. In the course of his remarks, he expressed himself thus: But, gentlemen of the jury, the plaintiff tells you he had nothing to do with the turkey-I dare say, gentlemen, not until it was roasted,' &c. He pronounced this word roasted with such rotundity of voice, such a ludicrous whirl of the tongue, and in a manner so indescribably comical, that it threw every one into a fit of laughter at the plaintiff, who stood up in the place usually allotted to criminals; and the defendant was let off, with little or no damages."

"The case of John Hook, to which my correspondent alludes, is worthy of insertion. Hook was a Scotchman, a man of wealth, and suspected of being unfriendly to the American cause. During the distresses of the American army, consequent on the joint invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in 1781, a Mr. Venable, an army commissary, had taken two of Hook's steers for the use of the troops. The act had not been strictly legal; and on the establishment of peace, Hook, under the advice of Mr. Cowan, a gentleman of some distinction in the law, thought proper to bring an action of trespass against Mr. Venable, in the district court of New London. Mr. Henry appeared for the defendant, and is said to have disported himself in this cause to the infinite enjoyment of his hearers, the unfortunate Hook always excepted. After Mr. Henry became animated in the cause, says a correspondent,† he appeared to have complete control over the passions of his audience: at one time he excited their indignation against Hook: vengeance was visible in every countenance: again, when he chose to relax and ridicule him, the whole audience was in a roar of laughter. He painted the distresses of the American army, exposed almost naked to the rigour of a winter's sky, and marking the frozen ground over which they marched, with the blood of their unshod feet; where was the man, he said, who had an American heart in his bosom, who would not have thrown open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his house, the portals of his breast, to have received with open arms, the meanest soldier in that little band of famished patriots? Where is the man?—There

*Thirty-nine lashes, inflicted without trial or law, on mere suspicion of guilt, which could not be regularly proven. This lawless practice, which sometimes by the order of a magistrate, sometimes without, prevailed extensively in the upper counties on James river, took its name from the gentleman who set the first example of it.

+ Judge Stuart.

he stands--but whether the heart of an American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to judge. He then carried the jury, by the powers of his imagination, to the plains around York, the surrender of which had followed shortly after the act complained of: he depicted the surrender in the most glowing and noble colours of his eloquencethe audience saw before their eyes the humiliation and dejection of the British, as they marched out of their trenches-they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriotic face, and heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of Washington and liberty, as it rung and echoed through the American ranks, and was reverberated from the hills and shores of the neighbouring river-but, hark, what notes of discord are these which disturb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory they are the notes of John Hook, hoarsely bawling through the American camp, beef! beef! beef!"

"The whole audience were convulsed: a particular incident will give a better idea of the effect, than any general description. The clerk of the court, unable to command himself, and unwilling to commit any breach of decorum in his place, rushed out of the court house and threw himself on the grass, in the most violent paroxysm of laughter, where he was rolling, when Hook, with very different feelings, came out, for relief, into the yard also. 'Jemmy Steptoe,' said he to the clerk, 'what the devil ails ye, mon?' Mr. Steptoe was only able to say, that he could not help it. Never mind ye,' said Hook; wait till Billy Cowan gets up: he'll show him the la'. Mr. Cowan, however, was so completely overwhelmed by the torrent which bore upon his client, that when he rose to reply to Mr. Henry, he was scarcely able to make an intelligible or audible remark. The cause was decided almost by acclamation. The jury retired for form sake, and instantly returned with a verdict for the defendant. Nor did the effect of Mr. Henry's speech stop here. The people were so highly excited by the tory audacity of such a suit, that Hook began to hear around him a cry more terrible than that of beef: it was the cry of tar and feathers: from the application of which, it is said, that nothing saved him but a precipitate flight and the speed of his horse."

A fund of other highly interesting matter might be extracted; but of the venerable Henry we have only room to say, that he again declined the honour of being governor; that he became rich, and perhaps, penurious; that in 1794, he bade adieu to his profession; and that the following letter is worthy of being had in everlasting remembrance.

"My dear Betsey,

"Mr. William Aylett's arrival here, with your letter, gave me the pleasure of hearing of your welfare, and to hear of that, is highly gratifying to me, as I so seldom see you, &c. (the rest of this paragraph relates to family affairs.)

"As to the reports you have heard of my changing sides in politics, I can only say they are not true. I am too old to exchange my former opinions, which have grown up into fixed habits of thinking. True it is, I have condemned the conduct of our members in congress, because in refusing to raise money for the purposes of the British treaty, they in effect, would have surrendered our country bound, hand and foot to the power of the British nation. This must have been the consequence,

I think; but the reasons for thinking so, are too tedious to trouble you with. The treaty is, in my opinion, a very bad one indeed. But what must I think of those men, whom I myself warned of the danger of giving the power of making laws by means of treaty, to the president and senate, when I see these same men denying the existence of that power, which they insisted in our convention, ought properly to be exercised by the president and senate, and by none other? The policy of these men, both then and now, appears to me quite void of wisdom and foresight. These sentiments I did mention in conversation in Richmond, and perhaps others which I don't remember; but sure I am, my first principle is, that from the British we have every thing to dread, when opportunities of oppressing us shall offer.

"It seems that every word was watched which I casually dropped, and wrested to answer party views. Who can have been so meanly employed, I know not--nor do I care; for I no longer consider myself as an actor on the stage of public life. It is time for me to retire; and I shall never more appear in a public character, unless some unlooked for circumstance shall demand from me a transient effort, not inconsistent with private life-in which I have determined to continue. I see with concern, our old commander in chief most abusively treated-nor are his long and great services remembered, as any apology for his mistakes in an office to which he was totally unaccustomed. If he, whose character as our leader during the whole war, was above all praise, is so roughly handled in his old age, what may be expected by men of the common standard of character? I ever wished he might keep himself clear of the office he bears, and its attendant difficulties -but I am sorry to see the gross abuse which is published of him. Thus, my dear daughter, have I pestered you with a long letter on politics, which is a subject little interesting to you, except as it may involve my reputation. I have long learned the little value which is to be placed on popularity, acquired by any other way than virtue; and I have also learned that it is often obtained by other means. The view which the rising greatness of our country presents to my eyes, is greatly tarnished by the general prevalence of deism; which with me, is but another name for vice and depravity. I am, however, much consoled by reflecting, that the religion of Christ, has from its first appearance in the world, been attacked in vain, by all the wits, philosophers, and wise ones, aided by every power of man, and its triumph has been complete. What is there in the wit, or wisdom of the present deistical writers or professors, that can compare them with Hume, Shaftsbury, Bolingbroke, and others? and yet these have been confuted, and their fame decaying; insomuch that the puny efforts of Paine are thrown in, to prop their tottering fabrick, whose foundations cannot stand the test of time. Amongst other strange things said of me, I hear it is said by the deists that I am one of the number; and indeed, that some good people think I am no christian. This thought gives me much more pain, than the appellation of tory; because I think religion of infinitely higher importance than politics; and I find much cause to reproach myself, that I have lived so long, and have given no decided and public proofs of my being a christian. But, indeed, my dear child, this is a character which I prize far above all this world has or can boast. And amongst all the handsome things I hear said of you, what gives me the

greatest pleasure is, to be told of your piety and steady virtue. Be assured there is not one tittle, as to disposition or character, in which my parental affection for you, would suffer a wish for your changing; and it flatters my pride to have you spoken of, as you are.

"Perhaps Mr. Roane and Anne may have heard the reports you mention. If it will be any object with them to see what I write you, show them this. But my wish is to pass the rest of my days, as much as may be, unobserved by the critics of the world, who would show but little sympathy for the deficiencies to which old age is so liable. May God bless you, my dear Betsey, and your children. Give my love to Mr. Aylett, and believe me ever your affectionate father,

"P. HENRY." Of the 'Sketches' in general, we cannot forbear remarking, that they are highly finished pictures. The book is handsomely printed; the sentiments it approbates are universally just; and the reader has an interesting portion of the civil history of his country blended with the memoirs of a great and good man. The author exposes and censures Mr. Henry's failings; he presents his virtues in all their winning loveliness. We could wish every American, and especially the young men, who think pride, profaneness and useless lives honourable, would attentively peruse this fine production. It is a good model for biographical writers, and not unworthy of the author of the British Spy.

ART. II.-Wine.

SIR-During the continuance of judge Cooper's Emporium, we were treated occasionally with essays on cookery and wine, which seemed very much to the taste of the readers of that work, scientific as it was. I do not pretend to find fault with the judgment or the taste of that gentleman, but I think the author of the following pages has had as much experience on the subject, and is as well entitled to offer advice upon it, as the learned editor of the Emporium.

For these last thirty years, Beauvilliers' eating house at Paris, has been considered as the best in Europe. No person who has visited Paris, is ignorant of his reputation; nor has any traveller to the metropolis of France, able to pay for a good dinner, neglected to pay his respects to the elegant rooms of that restaurateur in the palais royal.

About three or four years ago, Beauvilliers having acquired a large fortune, left off business, and in gratitude to his customers, he published his Art du Cusinier, of which the second edition, in 2 vols. 8vo. appeared in 1816. At the end of the second volume, he has inserted a dissertation on wines, which for the edification of your readers, connoisseurs and amateurs in all the knowledge that appertains to the character of a bon vivant, and accomplished amphytrion,* I transmit for insertion in your magazine. I can

* Amphytrion, is the inviter, the host, the entertainer at a dinner party; a situation that requires not only elegant taste in the direction of his table, but much reflection and good sense in the arrangement of his parties.