wounds. The heart all the time, developing every trick that is played to cajole her, and sitting serene and composed, looks on and smiles at the ridiculous pageant as it passes. Nothing can, in my opinion, be more illy judged in an orator, than to indulge himself in this idle, artificial parade. It is particularly unfortunate in an exordium. It is as much as to say, caveat auditor; and for my own part, the moment I see an orator rise with this menacing majesty-assume a look of solemn wisdom-stretch forth his right arm, like the rubens dexter of Joveand hear him open his throat in deep and tragick tone, I feel myself involuntarily braced and in an attitude of defence, as if I were going to take a bout with Mendoza. The Virginians boast of an orator of nature, whose manner was the reverse of all this; and he is the only orator of whom they do boast, with much emphasis. I mean the celebrated Patrick Henry, whom I regret that I came to this country too late to see. I cannot, indeed, easily forgive him, even in the grave, his personal instrumentality in separating these fair colonies from Great Britain. Yet I dare not withhold from the memory of his talents, the tribute of respect to which they are so justly entitled. I am told that. his general appearance and manners were those of a plain farmer or planter of the back country; that, in this character, he always entered on the exordium of an oration-dis qualifying himself, with looks and expressions of humility, so lowly and unassuming, as threw every heart off its guard, and induced his audience to listen to him, with the same easy openness with which they would converse with an honest neighbour -but, by and by, when it was little expected, he would take a flight so high, and blaze with a splendour so heavenly, as filled them with a kind of religious awe, and gave him the force and authority of a prophet. You remember this was the manner of Ulysses; commencing with a depressed look, and hesitating voice. Yet I dare say Mr. Henry was directed to it, not by the example of Ulysses, of which it is very probable, that at the commencement of his career, at least, he was entirely ignorant ;-but either that it was the genuine trembling diffidence, without which, if Tully may be believed, a great orator never rises; or else that he was prompted to it by his own sound judgment and his intimate knowledge of the human heart. I have seen the skeletons of some of his orations. The periods, and their members, are short, quick, eager, palpitating, and are manifestly the extemporaneous effusions of a mind deeply convicted, and a heart inflamed with zeal for the propagation of those convictions. They afford, however, a very inadequate sample of his talents; the stenographer having never the tempted to follow him, when he arose in atstrength and awful majesty of his genius. I am not a little surprised to find eloquence of this high order so negligently cultivated in the United States. Considering what a very powerful engine it is in a republick, and how peculiarly favourable to its culture, the climate of republicks has been always found, I expected to have seen in America, more votaries to Mercury than even to Plutus, Indeed it would be so sure a road both to wealth and honours, that if I coveted either, and were an American, I would bend all my powers to its acquirement, and try whether I could not succeed as well as Demosthenes, in vanquishing natural imperfections. Ah! my dear S*******, were you a citizen of this country! you, under the influence of whose voice a parliament of Great Britain has trembled and shuddered, while her refined and enlightened galleries have wept and fainted in the excess of feeling! what might you not accomplish! But, for the honour of my country, I am much better pleased that you are a Britain. On the subject of Virginian eloquence, you shall hear father from me. In the mean time, adieu, my S*******, my friend, , my friend, my father. ************** LETTER V. น RRITISH SPY. LETTER V. RICHMOND, SEPTEMBER 23. I HAVE just returned, my dear S*******, from an interesting morning's ride. My object was to visit the site of the Indian town, Powhatan, which you will remember was the metropolis of the dominions of Pocabuntas' father, and, very probably, the birthplace of that celebrated princess. The town was built on the river about two miles below the ground now occupied by Richmond; that is, about two miles below the head of tide water. The land whereon it stood is, at present, part of a beautiful and valuable farm belonging to a gentleman by the name of William Mayo. Aware of the slight manner in which the Indians have always constructed their habitations, I was not at all disappointed in finding no vestige of the old town. But as I traversed the ground over which Pocahuntas had so often bounded and frolicked in the sprightly morning of her youth, I could not help recalling the principal features of her history, and heaving a sigh of mingled pity and veneration to her memory. Good Heav en! What an eventful life was hers! To speak of nothing else, the arrival of the English in her father's dominions, must have ap peared, (as, indeed, it turned out to be) a most portentous phenomenon. It is not easy for us to conceive the amazement and consternation which must have filled her mind, and that of her nation, at the first appearance of our countrymen. Their great ship, with all her sails spread, advancing in solemn majesty to the shore; their complexion; their dress; their language; their domestick animals; their cargo of new and glittering wealth; and then, the thunder and irresistible force of their artillery; the distant country announced by them, far beyond the great water, of which the oldest Indian never heard, or thought, or dreamed-all this was so new, so wonderful, so tremendous, that I do seriously suppose, the personal descent of an army of Milton's celestial angels, robed in light, sporting the bright beams of the sun, and redoubling their splendour, making divine harmony with their golden harps, or playing with the bolt, and chasing the rapid lightning of heaven, would excite no more astonishment in Great-Britain, than did the debarkation of the English among the aborigines of Virginia. Poor Indians Where are they now!→→ Indeed my dear S*******, this is a truly afflicting consideration. The people here may say what they please; but on the principles |