tion at Philadelphia, to take that important subject under consideration. 9. This convention, composed of men who possessed the confidence of the people, and many of whom had become highly distinguished for their patriotism, virtue and wisdom, in times which tried the souls of men, undertook the arduous task. In the mild season of peace, with minds unoccupied by other subjects, they passed many months in cool, uninterrupted and daily consultations. And finally, without having been awed by power, or influenced by any passion except love for their country, they presented and recommended to the people the plan produced by their joint and very unanimous counsels. 1. It is not yet forgotten, that well-grounded apprehensions of imminent danger induced the people of America to form the memorable congress of 1774. That body reco:nmended certain measures to their constituents, and the event proved their wisdom; it yet is fresh in our memories how soon the press began to teem with pamphlets and weekly papers against those very measures, 11. Not only many of the officers of government, who obeyed the dictates of personal interest, but others, from a mistaken estimate of consequences, from the undue influence of ancient attachments, or whose ambition aimed at ojects which did not correspond with the public good, were indefatigable in their endeavors to persuade the people to reject the advice of that patriotic congress. Many, indeed, were deceived and deluded, but the great majority reasoned and decided judiciously; and happy they are in reflecting they did so. 12. But if the people at large had reason to confide in the men of that congress, few of whom had then been fully tried or generally known, still greater reason have they now to respect the judgment and advice of the convention; for it is well known that some of the most distinguished members of that congress, who have been since tried and justly approved for patriotism and abilities, and who have grown old in acquiring political information, were also members of this convention, and carried into it their accumulated knowledge and experience. 13. I. is worthy of remark, that not only the first, but every succeeding congress, as well as the late convention, THE WESTERN READER. LESSON LXXV. Indian Birch Canoe.-T. L. McKENNEY. 153 1. THE following is a description of the large canoe used by the Indians on our great northern lakes. Its length is thirty feet, and its breadth across the widest part, about four feet. It is about two and a half feet deep in the centre, but only about two feet deep near the bow and stern. 2. The materials of which this canoe are built, are birch bark, and red cedar; the whole fastened together with wat tap, (a kind of coarse thread made of bark, or vegetable fibre) and gum, without a nail, or bit of iron of any sort to confine the parts. The entire outside is bark-the bark of the birch tree-and where the edges join at the bottom, or along the sides, they are sewn with this wattap, and then the seam is closed perfectly with gum. 3. Next to the bark are pieces of cedar, shaved thin, not thicker than the blade of a knife; these run horizontally, and are pressed against the bark by means of these ribs of cedar, which fit the shape of the canoe, bottom and sides, and coming up to the edges, are pointed, and let into a rim of cedar of about an inch and a half wide, that forms the gunwale of the canoe, and to which, by means of the wattap, the bark and the ribs are all sewed. 4. Across the cance are bars, some five or six, that keep the canoe in shape. These are fastened by bringing their ends against the gunwale, or edge, and fastening them to it with wattap. The seats are along side of, but beiow, the bars, and are of plank, some inches wide, which are swung, by means of two pieces of rope passed through each end, from the gunwale. 5. Here, then, is the canoe. But so light is it, and so easily destroyed, that precautions are necessary to be taken in loading it, and these are attended to by placing round poles along the bottom. These, resting equally, for the whole length, cause the burthen to press equally from one end to the other. LESSON LXXVI. South Sea Missionaries.-WILLIAM CROSWELL WITH pleasure not unmix'd with pain, Behind them is the sweltering main, No sound was in the silence heard The faint and heated breeze scarce stirr'd The streamers of the palm. The shipman in the distance sees The crowded, strawbuilt cottages, And as that self-devoted band In faith, those far-off shores they trod THE WESTERN READER. 149 The whole house resounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation. 8. It was sometime before the tumult had subsided, so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fallacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive how he would be able to let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. Butno; the descent was as beautiful and sublime as the eleva tion had been rapid and enthusiastic. 9. The first sentence with which he broke the awful silence, was a quotation from Rousseau: "Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God!" 10. I despair of giving you any idea of the effect produced by this short sentence, unless you could perfectly conceive the whole manner of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never before did I completely understand what Demosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. 11. You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the preacher; his blindness, constantly recalling to your recollection old Homer, Ossian, and Milton, and associating with his performance the melancholy grandeur of their geniuses; you are to imagine that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling melody; you are to remember the pitch of passion and enthusiasm, to which the congregation were raised; and then the few moments of portentous, death-like silence, which reigned throughout the house: the preacher, removing his white handkerchief from his aged face, (even yet wet from the recent torrent of his tears,) and slowly stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence, "Socrates died like a philosopher"-then, pausing, raising his other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with warmth and energy, to his breast, lifting his "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice-"but Jesus Christ-like a God!" 12. If he had been indeed, and in truth, an angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine. Whate er I had been able to conceive of the sublimity of M 13* 150 THE WESTERN READER. lon, or the force of Bourdaloue, had fallen far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this simple sentence. 13. If this description give you the impression, that this incomparable minister had any thing of shallow, theatrical trick in his manner, it does him great injustice. I have never seen, in any other orator, such a union of simplicity and majesty. He has not a gesture, an attitude, or an accent, to which he does not seem forced by the sentiment he is expressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too solicitous, and, at the same time, too dignified, to stoop to artifice. 14. Although as far removed from ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear, from the train, the style and substance of his thoughts, that he is not only a very polite scholar, but a man of extensive and profound erudition. 15. I was forcibly struck with a short yet beautiful character, which he drew of your learned and amiable country. man, Sir Robert Boyle: he spoke of him, as if "his noble mind had, even before death, divested herself of all influence from his frail tabernacle of flesh;" and called him, in his peculiarly emphatic and impressive manner, "a pure inelligence. the link between men and angels." 16. This man has been before my imagination almost ever since. A thousand times, as I rode along, I dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my hand, and tried to imitate his quotation from Rousseau; a thousand times I abandoned the attempt in despair, and felt persuaded, that his peculiar manner and power arose from an energy of soul, which nature could give, but which no human being could justly copy. As I recall, at this moment, several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling tide, with which my blood begins to pour along my arteries, reminds me of the emotions produced by the first sight of Gray's introductory picture of his Bard. LESSON LXXIV. The Emigrant's Abode in Ohio.-FLINT. 1. In making remoter journeys from the town, beside the rivulets, and in the little bottoms not yet in cultivation, I discerned the smoke rising in the woods, and heard the |