have excited its highest indignation; but now, it submitted humbly and resignedly to the deserved infliction. And, after a little while, looking fixedly upward, it almost fancied that the form, if not the radiance of the beloved star was faintly perceptible through the intervening darkness.

10. The little brook was not deceived; cloud after cloud rolled away from the central heaven, till at last, the unchanging star was plainly discernible through the fleecy vapor which yet obscured its perfect luster. But, through that silvery vail, the beautiful star looked intently on its repentant love; and there was more of tenderness, of pity, and reconciliation in that dim, trembling gaze, than if the pure, heavenly dweller had shone out in perfect brightness on the frail, humbled creature below. Just then, a few large drops fell heavily from the disparting cloud; and one trembling for a moment with starry light, fell, like a forgiving tear, into the bosom of the little pool.

11. Long, long and undisturbed, (for no other eye looked out from heaven that night,) was the last mysterious +communion of the reconciled friends. No doubt, that voiceless tintercourse was yet eloquent of hope and futurity; for though all that remained of the pure little brook was sure to be exhausted by the next day's fiery trial, it would but change its visible form, to become an imperishable tessence: and who can tell whether the elementary nature, so purged from earthly impurities, may not have been received up into the sphere of its heavenly friend, and indissolubly united with the celestial substance.

1. WITH fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
+Plying her needle and thread;

Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still with a voice of +dolorous pitch,
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."

My labor never flags ;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,

A crust of bread, and rags,

That shatter'd roof, and this naked floor,

A table, a broken chair,

And a wall so tblank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there.

7.

8.

"Work! work! work!
From weary chime to chime!
Work! work! work!
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd,
As well as the weary hand.

"Work! work! work!
In the dull December light,

And work! work! work!

When the weather is warm and bright;
While underneath the eaves,

The brooding swallows cling,
As if to show me their sunny backs,
And twit me with the Spring.

10. Oh! but for one short hour!
A trespite, however brief!

No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!

A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed

My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread.”

11. With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread:

Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch,
Would that its tone could reach the rich!
She sang this "Song of the Shirt.”

CLIX. CHATHAM ON THE AMERICAN WAR.

1. I CAN NOT, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation. on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation: the smoothness of flattery can not save us, in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the *delusion and darkness which envelop it; and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors.

2. Can parliament be so dead to its true dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus *obtruded and forced upon them? Measures, my lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt! "But yesterday, and Britain might have stood against the world; now, none so poor to do her reverence." The people whom we first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied with every military store, have their interest consulted, and their embassadors entertained by our inveterate enemy; and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect.

3. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems or honors the British troops, than I do. I know their virtues and their valor. I know they can achieve any thing but impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of British America is an impossibility. You can not, my lords, you can not conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, taccumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the *shambles of every German despot: your attempts will be forever impotent; doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your +adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the trapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms ; · never-never- NEVER!

4. But, my lords, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgraces and mischief of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms, the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage? to call into civilized alliance, the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods? to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My lords, these tenormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this house, or in this country.

5. My lords, I did not intend to tencroach so much on your attention, but I can not repress my indignation: I feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon, as members of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity. "That God and nature have put into our hands!" What ideas of God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not; but I know, that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, DEVOURING, DRINKING THE BLOOD of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation.

6. I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops, to interpose their unsullied sanctity; upon the judges, to interpose the purity of their termine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your lordships, to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I invoke the Genius of the Constitu