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than years, could be no more than sixty-Truth might lie between-He was certainly sixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seemed to have been planting wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the account. . It was one of those heads which Guido has often
painted--mild, pale, penetrating; free from all common-place ideas of fat, contented ignorance looking downwards upon the earth-it looked forwards; but looked as if it looked at something beyond this world. How one of his order came by it, Heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders, best knows: but it would have suited a Bramin ; and had I met it upon the plains of Indostan, I had reverenced it. .
The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; ore might put it into the hands of any one to design; for it was neither elegant nor otherwise, but as character and expression made it so. It was a thin, square form, something above the common size, if it lost not the distinction by a bend forwards in the figure—but it was the attitude of entreaty; and as it now stands present in my imagination, it gained more than it lost by it.
When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and laying his left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff with which he journeyed being in his right)—when I had got close up to him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order—and did it with so simple a grace and such an air of depreca. tion was there in the whole cast of his look and figure -I was bewitched not to have been struck with it.
- A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single sous.
'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded his address—’tis very true-and Heaven be their resource who have no other than the charity of the world ; the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it
As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a slight glance with his eyes downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic-I felt the full force of the appeal
I acknowledge it, said I-a coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet, are nogreat matters: but the true point of pity is, as they can be earned in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pres. sing upon a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged, and the infirm : the captive who lies down counting over and over again the days of his affliction, languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued I, · pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should it have been opened to you for the ransom of the unfortunate. The monk made me a bow-But, resumed I, the unfortunate of our own country surely have the first rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon the English shore. The monk gave a cordial wave with his head—as much as to say, No doubt there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent. But we distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal-we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour--and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God
The poor Franciscan made no reply: a hectic of a moment passed across his cheek, but could not tarry-Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in him : he showed none-but letting his staff fall within his arm, he pressed both his hands with resignation upon his breast-and retired.
My heart smote me the momen the shut the door. --Pshaw ! said I, with an air of carelessness, three several times. But it would not do; every ungracious syllable I had uttered crowded back into my imagination. I reflected I bad no right over the poor Franciscan but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of unkind language. I consi.
dered his gray hairs his courteous figure seemed to re-enter, and gently ask me, what injury he had done me, and why I could use him thus?-I would have given twenty livres for an advocate I have behaved very ill, said I within myself; but I have only just set out on my travels, and shall learn better manners as I get along.
The Perfect Orator.
IMAGINE to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended-How awful such a meeting ! how vast the subject !-Is man possessed of talents ade. quate to the great occasion ?-Adequate ! Yes, superior. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator; and the importance of the subject, for a while, su. perseded by the admiration of his talents. With what strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man; and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his pas. sions !-To effect this, must be the utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature.-Not a fa. culty that he possesses is here unemployed ; not a faculty that he possesses but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work ; all his external testify their energies. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions, are all busy: without, every muscle, every nerve is exa erted; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred organs of the-hearers; instantaneously vibrate those energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one mass-the whole assembly,
actuated in one and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice-The universal cry isLET US MARCH AGAINST PHILIP, LET US FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES-LET US CONQUER OR DIE!
You will observe some members of sentences marked with the note of admiration ;--some requiring the falling, and others the rising infection. How awful, the falling ; adequate, the rising.
The Words of the White Inhabitants of the West Indies
. But we will Rebel, noticed.
. But we will rebel !--Who can refrain from think. ing of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, who, while raised sixty feet from the ground on the hand of the King of Brobdignag, claps his hand on his sword, and tells his Majesty that he knows how to defend himself? You will rebel ! Bravely resolved, most magnanimous Grildrig ! But remember the wise remark of Lord Beefington- courage without power, said that illustrious exile, is like a consumptive running footman.' What are your means of resistance ? Are there, in all the islands put together, ten thousand white men capable of bearing arms ? Are not your forces, such as they are, divided into small portions, which can never act in concert? But this is mere trifling. Are you, in point of fact, at this moment able to protect yourselves against your slaves, without our assistance? If you can still rise up and lie down in security-if you can still eat the bread of the fatherless, and grind the faces of the poor-if you can still hold your petty parliaments, and say your little speeches, and make your little motions—if you can still outrage and insult the parliament and people of England, to what do you owe it? To nothing but our contemptuous mercy. If we suspend our protection-if we recall our troops-in a week the knife is at your throats! Look to it, that we do not take you at your word. What are you to us, that we should pamper and defend you? If the Atlantic Ocean should pass over you, and your place know you no more, what should we lose ? Could we find no other cultivators to accept of our enormous bounties on sugar ? -no other pestilential region to which we might send our soldiers to catch the yellow fever ?no other community for which we might pour forth our blood, and lavish our money, to purchase nothing but injuries and insults ? What do we make by you? If England is no longer to be the mistress of her colonies--if she is to be only the handmaid of their pleasures, or the accomplice of their crimes, she may at least venture to ask, as a handmaid, what are to be the wages of her serviceas an accomplice, what is to be her portion of the spoil? If justice, and mercy, and liberty, and the law. of God, and the happiness of man, be words without a meaning, we at least talk to the purpose · when we talk of pounds, shillings, and pence.
There are some sentences in this extract which must be read with the tone of ridicule, and some with the tone of anger and contempt. If you can still rise up, and the following ifs, belong to the questioning state of the sentence, each of which, except the last, to be read with the suspended falling inflection. People of England is the last member.
The Church of England and the Dissenters.
· The Catholics call themselves the friends of the constitution'; but this is a small matter, when we remember that the radicals assumed the same name. The principles of the former, say what they will, bring them into direct conflict with the constitution. The Pope, but a moment since, publicly prohibited the general circulation of the Bible. When the clergy prohibit their flocks from reading almost every thing that the press circulates, and from entering a