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their appointments are scant. They are governors who govern nothing, and judges who are very liable to be judged. The chief magistrate is pompously styled in the constitutions of these young states, commander of the forces by land and sea-pure mockery! for a reservation of the authority is stipulated in case of war, and even in peace he has scarce the right of making a corporal. But the sentiment of discipline and obedience loses nothing by this; it is manifested instinctively towards the men who are in fact the generals of the expedition, the providence of the volunteers. If little trouble is taken about the governor of the state, the people are docile and submissive towards the tavern keeper, the driver of the stage, and the captain of the steamboat. With regard to them self-government is not in vogue. You rise, you breakfast, you dine, you sup, when it pleases the landlord or his chief of the staff, the barkeeper, to ring the bell or sound the gong. It is just the same as in the army. You eat whatever is set before you, without ever permitting yourself to make an observation. You stop at the pleasure of the driver or the captain, without evincing impatience. You suffer yourself to be upset and have your ribs broken by the former, or to be blown up and drowned by the other, without complaint or recrimination. It is here again the same as in the army. It has been remarked that the existence of the founders of empires, from the companions of Romulus down to the flibustiers, consisted of a mixture of absolute independence and passive obedience. The society which is springing up in the west has not escaped from this common law."

With regard to the all-important subject of the permanence of our Union, Mr. Chevalier does not speak with the confidence of one to whom coming events are distinctly shadowed forth. He descries, like all competent observers, many perilous breakers ahead, on which the goodly ship may peradventure rush to her destruction; but he also beholds various signs in the heavens which induce him to believe that the winds will not drive her upon them, and that she will be able to steer her way succesfully between Scylla and Charybdis. Yet, though he does not think the Union is in danger of being broken in pieces, he, nevertheless, opines that it may undergo some modifications; and, with all the philanthropy of a citizen of the world, and all the spirit of a citizen of the country where every one is and has been employed, for a long time past, in manufacturing constitutions and systems of government for "la patrie" and the universe, he throws out the hint of an improvement which should be submitted as soon as may be to the consideration of our conscript fathers. His suggestion is to subdivide the general confederation into three intermediate confederations, corresponding respectively to the three great "homogeneous masses" of the Atlantic, the West, and the South. This, he thinks, would establish especial bonds among the states of each group; would give satisfaction to the doctrine of states' rights, without compromising the principle of union; and would render the Union itself more elastic. The existence of these three partial confederations he fancies would harmonize perfectly with that

of a central authority invested with the incontestable attributes of the present federal government-an army, a fleet, an external representation, a droit de cité, a supreme court, and, as far as possible, a custom-house and a bank. As he says this idea ought to be examined without much delay, would it not be of great value to some of the luminous sages of the assemblage whose deliberations have already given so cheering an earnest of the decorum with which they will be conducted, and the ineffable benefits they will inflict upon the state? Would it not be a more innocent topic than that, for instance, of making Draconic laws? And would it not afford a capital theme, pro and con, to some of the formidable orators who have evinced their determination to outdo all ancient and modern eloquence, and enlighten mankind upon every and any subject, especially on points of which they themselves are most profoundly ignorant? For our own part, we cannot help believing that M. Chevalier's plan would only make confusion worse confounded. Our system has quite enough wheels within wheels already, and any addition would not be very apt to simplify the machine and preserve its motions from the risk of derangement. With three such strapping, selfish children as our author would thus bestow on the mother Union, we rather fear the poor lady would stand a chance of being treated with a degree of roughness and contempt that might break her heart, and put an end to her wretched days; and then the parricidal villains would, in all probability, fall together by the ears, and end by furnishing the world with another melancholy illustration of the fate of those terrible belligerents, the Kilkenny cats. "Di talem avertite casum!" Grand merci, Mr. Chevalier, for your hint, but we would not take one of the kind from the Abbé de Sieyes himself.

The great danger to our institutions, it seems to us, may be dreaded from the fact of the little influence, comparatively speaking, which is exercised by the more enlightened and sober classes of the people upon our political proceedings. In a country where numbers are every thing, intelligence and virtue comparatively nothing, where the laws have no stipulations in favour of either natural or acquired superiority, and regard the most ignorant and debased as on a level with the wisest, brightest, purest citizens, it is to be expected that the sway of numbers will often produce effects such as we now have so much reason to deplore. Our present sufferings are, without question, mainly ascribable to the circumstance of the numerical majority (who were a lamentable minority of those best fitted for wielding power) having elevated an incompetent, and worse than incompetent, person to the chair of state, and there supported him, by the mere strength of numbers, in defiance of all the dictates of patriotism and common sense.

Here is the great evil-making the high places the rewards, not of merit, but of popular favouritism, and, as a consequence, of party prostitution. Is it not a fact, as indisputable as it is mournful, that he who has the noble ambition äsev agiseveiv ὑπερείχον έμμεναια λλῶν —always to excel and be superior to others is not enabled to gratify the generous impulse? Is it not a fact that one who wishes to obtain the honours of the republic must consent to sacrifices of his own honour and dignity, which ought to disqualify him for these very honours in the eyes of his compatriots? Can any one who says to himself, like the French philosopher,

"Je ne sais ni tromper, ni feindre, ni mentir,

Et quand je le pourrois, je n'y puis consentir,"

ever hope to soar upon the wings of such virtue to the summits of our political pyramids ? Is it not by creeping alone that those can be reached? What is to be the result of this? Why that but reptiles, not eagles, will make efforts to place themselves upon the elevations-that only those who render themselves unworthy of the posts they seek, will strive to obtain them. Take, for example, a youth who feels both the desire and ability to achieve the loftiest distinction. He embarks in the career of his hopes, believing that all the glorious lessons he has learned are now to be reduced to practice that the great models whom he has before his eyes, and in whose footsteps it has always been his fondest wish to walk, he may now perchance triumphantly imitate that he, too, may one day read his blessings in a nation's eyes. Almost at the first step he finds he must truckle to what he knows to be caprice, or delusion, or vice, which he will not flatter; he looks around and studies the conduct and character of those who are outstripping him in the race, of those who are in possession of the eminences over which the star of his ambition is shining, and he sees what converts, to his eyes, the glitter of the orb into a sickly repulsive glare from which he soon turns in utter disgust; and, with hopes and spirits bruised, he retires from the contest, abandoning it to the mercenaries whose struggles alone are applauded by the people, and have a likelihood of ultimate success. This is no fancy picture. What has happened, and is happening around us, affords a melancholy illustration of its truth."

Did we believe that the high places were thus always to be polluted by the exhalations from the foulest fens of corruptiondid we believe that we were always to be exposed to the repetition of such scenes and deeds as we have witnessed, to the shock of such miseries as we have endured-did we believe that we were always to be cursed with an aristocracy of vulgarity, and ignorance, and profligacy, in lieu of one of refine

ment and magnificence, in which if there be vice it loses half its evil by losing all its grossness-did we believe all this, we should certainly deem it well for us to take the counsels of those who have only looked at the gloomy side of our institutions, into serious consideration. But such is not our belief.

"Think'st thou yon darksome cloud,

Raised by a breath, hath quenched the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.”

We recollect, a few years ago, that upon arriving from Europe, and entering the bay of New York, a sudden storm arose, (the day having been previously beautiful,) and in a few moments immediate destruction seemed to threaten our noble vessel and all on board. Nothing of the kind had occurred during the whole voyage, and apprehensions of being shipwrecked in the very harbour became strong and universal. Had it not been, indeed, for the skill and presence of mind of our veteran commander, the result must have been most disastrous. The boat lashed to the side of the ship was swept away; seats upon an upper deck were literally hurled into the waves by the fury of the wind; and the principal deck was flooded by rain, which poured down in torrents, to a depth that might have created fears of submersion from the waters of heaven as well as those of the sea. The gale however was too fierce to endure long. In an hour, perhaps, the evening sun was again beaming with his mellow effulgence in a cloudless sky, and nothing in the aspect of nature would have told of the scene that had just been witnessed. But proofs of it in mournful abundance were scattered around, and never shall we forget the spectacle they presented. The bay had been studded with vessels of various descriptions-some commencing and others about to terminate their voyage-their sails all spread blithely and confidently to the treacherous skies, "unmindful of the sweeping whirlwind's sway"-and now most were utter wrecks, these dismasted, those upon their beam ends, and several entirely beneath the water, with only a glimpse of their sides or a straggling spar to indicate what they were. In all directions human beings were seen clinging to whatever afforded a chance of salvation. Fortunate was it for them that our ship was near and uninjured. A considerable time was spent in picking them up, and it was not until those had been rescued who had escaped a watery grave, that we pursued our course. Like this storm is the one which has burst upon our land-as sudden, as violent, as fruitful of ruin-and the wrecks it has made are strewed around in heart-sickening numbers. But soon as serene a firmament and as unsullied a sun will smile again over our heads, as gilded the scene of desolation we have described, and whispered

hope and comfort to the unfortunate beings who have thus been brought back to our memory!

We need not, however, expect to pursue the tenour of our way without encountering these shocks. We are particularly exposed to them, in fact, from the identical circumstance which produces that especial superiority we boast over the rest of the world. The grovelling plains, the lowly level of despotism may remain for ages in uninterrupted calm; but the cloud-piercing heights of freedom are in the very region of the tempest. Ever and anon the thunder must roll and the lightning flash about them, until those who dwell in their midst may dread that the storm-spirit is abroad for the accomplishment of total ruin. But who would not rather breathe the pure, elastic, invigorating atmosphere that circulates among them, which is thus kept salubrious by the very convulsions which create so much alarm, than the close and stagnant air, tranquil though it may always be, which causes every thing to languish and wither? Our institutions, like all other human concerns, have their imperfections; and, even if they were intrinsically perfect, their contact with human nature-which is the same in the new as in the old world, at the present as in former times-must mar their effect. Here, too, if the amplest scope be afforded to the virtuous qualities of man, the same is also given to his evil passions; so that if we have a greater probability of happiness, we have also a more serious risk of the reverse. Here, on this soil, is the grand battle to be fought between Ebony and Topaz— between the bad and good spirits that are ever struggling for the mastery of our breasts-and he is no believer in an all-wise, an all-just, and omnipotent God, (who would not have commanded us to strive after perfection had he not provided us with the means of at least approaching it,) who fears that the victory will be achieved by the former. The contest will indeed be a protracted and a close one, but, with a proper trust in the Almighty arm which has been promised for our support, we shall come out from it with equal glory and advantage for ourselves and the world.

We are intimately impressed with the conviction that the possibility of retrogradation in human affairs is incompatible with the existence of an over-ruling Providence and the progress of Christianity; that there must be a gradual, progressive improvement. We cannot admit for a moment the idea that our country has only been raised to the elevation it has attained, to be ultimately thrown prostrate on the earth. That would indeed be a fall

"Qui cadit in plano (vix hoc tamen evenit ipsum)
Sic cadit ut tacta surgere possit humo;

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