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I may therefore now indulge in expressing feelings towards it, which delicacy, rather to the law than the traffic, might, before that period, have rendered it proper to suppress. After a long and most unaccountable silence of the law on this head, which seemed to protect, by permitting, or at least by not prohibiting the traffic, it has now spoken out; and the veil which it appeared to interpose being now withdrawn, it is fit to let our indignation fall on those who still dare to trade in human flesh, not merely for the frauds of common smugglers, but for engaging in crimes of the deepest die ;2in crimes always most iniquitous, even when not illegal; but which are now as contrary to law as they have ever been to honesty and justice. I must protest loudly against the abuse of language, which allows such men to call themselves traders or merchants. It is not commerce, but crime, that they are driving. I too well know, and too highly respect that most honourable and useful pursuit, that commerce, whose province it is to humanise and pacify the world. So alien in its nature to violence and fraud,-so formed to flourish in peace and in honesty,—so inseparably connected with freedom, and goodwill, and fair dealing, I deem too high of it to endure that its name should, by a strange perversion, be prostituted to the use of men who live by treachery, rapine, torture, and murder! I spoke literally and advisedly; I meant to use no figurative phrase; and I know I was guilty of no exaggeration: I was speaking of the worst form of that crime. For ordinary murders there may even be some excuse. Revenge may have arisen from the excess of feelings honourable in themselves. A murder of hatred or cruelty, or mere bloodthirstiness, can only be imputed to a deprivation of reason; 5but here we have to do with cool, deliberate, mercenary murder! nay, worse than this; for the ruffians who go on the highway, or the pirates who infest the seas, at least expose their persons, and, by their courage, throw a kind of false glare over their crimes. But these wretches durst not do this; they employ others, as base as themselves, only that they are less cowardly: they set on men to rob and kill, in whose spoils they are willing to share, though not in their dangers. Traders, or merchants, do they presume to call themselves? and in cities like London and Liverpool, the very creations of honest trade? I, at length, will give them the right name, and call them cowardly suborners of piracy and mercenary murder !

Brougham.

its mute, watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling-oh! how thrilling!-pressure of the hand. The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! The faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection!

"Ay! go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! there settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited-every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never-never-never return to be soothed by thy contrition!

If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silver brow of an affectionate parent -if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth-if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet ;-then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul-then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.

Then weave thy chaplet flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender yet futile tributes of regret; "but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living.

Washington Irving.

Ex. 43.

The Christian Pauper's Death-Bed.

1. Solemnity with awe. 2. Pathetic description. exultation.

'Tread softly, bow the head,

In rev'rent silence bow,

No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul

Is passing now.

3. Burst of solemn

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1. Feelingly. 2. Questioning. 3. Touching pathos. 4. Tender reflection. 5. Solemn entreaty. 6. Warning.

1THE sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal-every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open-this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. 2Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal; would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness? No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gaiety; or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom ; yet, who would exchange it, even for a song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave!-the grave !-it buries every error-covers every defect-extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him!

But the grave of those we loved-what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded in the daily course of intimacy-there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its stifled griefs-its noiseless attendance-

its mute, watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling-oh! how thrilling!-pressure of the hand. The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! The faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection!

"Ay! go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! there settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited-every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never-never-never return to be soothed by thy contrition!

If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silver brow of an affectionate parent -if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth-if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee—if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet ;-then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul-then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.

Then weave thy chaplet flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender yet futile tributes of regret; "but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living.

Washington Irving.

Ex. 43.

The Christian Pauper's Death-Bed.

1. Solemnity with awe. 2. Pathetic description. exultation.

'Tread softly, bow the head,

In rev'rent silence bow,

No passing bell doth toll,
Yet an immortal soul

Is passing now.

3. Burst of solemn

Stranger, however great,
With holy reverence bow;
There's one in that poor shed,
One by that paltry bed,
Greater than thou.

Beneath that beggar's roof,

Lo! Death doth keep his state;
Enter-no crowds attend;

Enter-no guards defend
This palace gate.

"That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread
One silent woman stands,
Lifting with meagre hands
A dying head.

"No mingling voices sound

An infant wail alone;

A sob suppressed-again

That short, deep gasp, and then—
The parting groan.

3Oh, change !—oh, wondrous change!
Burst are the prison bars;

This moment, there, so low,

So agonised and now

Beyond the stars!

Oh, change !-stupendous change!

There lies the soulless clod;

The sun eternal breaks

The new immortal wakes

Wakes with his God!

Caroline Southey.

Dramatic.

Ex. 44.

Scene from Hamlet.

5. En

1. Salutation. 2. Recognition. 3. Inquiry. 4. Dissenting. treaty. 6. Acquiescing. 7. Sarcastic explanation. 8. Abstraction suddenly wakened to 9. Surprise and 10. Eager astonishment. 11. Narra12. Perplexity. 13. Anxiety rising gradually to 14. Fixed reso15. Amazement alternating with 16. Suspicion and foreboding.

tive.

lution.

Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.

HOR. 1Hail to your Lordship!

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