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the illu‘strious-character, whom we all deplo're—I shall, I can say/ bu't litt'le. A long interval must take place between the heavy blo'w/ which has been stru’ck, and the consideration of its effe°ct, before a'ny-one, (and how ma'ny are th'ere !) of those who have revered and lov’ed Mr. Fox, as I' hav'e-done, can speak of his de’ath/ with the fe’eling, but maînly compo'sures, which becomes the dignified regr'et/ it ought to inspire.—To say any thing to you at this moment), in the fresh hour of your unburthened soʻrrows—to depi'ct, to dwe'll/ upon the great tra'its of his cha'racter-must be un'necessary, and almo'st/ insu'lting. His i'mage/ still lives before your e'yes—his vir'tues/ are in your he’arts—his loʻss is your despa'ir. I have see'n/ in a public pri'nt, what are stated to have been his laʼst-words—and they are tru'ly-stated. They were these — “I di'e hap'py.” Th'en, (turning to the more immediate o'bjects of his pri'vate-affections, he ad'ded, “ but/ I pity yoʻu.” Gen’tlemen, this statement is precisely true. But Oh'! if the soʻlemn/ fleet'ing-hour had allowed of such' considera'tions, and/ if the unassuming nature of his dignified mi'nd/ had not withh'eld-him, whic'h of you will allow his title to have sa'id, (not only to the sharers of his domes'tic-love, han'ging in mute despair upon his c'ouch) -“I pity you ;" but/ prophe'tically/ to have ad’ded, “ I pity En'gland— I pity Eu'rope — I pity human na'ture !” — He died in the spirit of pea'ce; tra'nquil in his own expiring he’art, and che'rishing to the la'st, (with a parental solicitude, the consoling hope that he should be able to give established tra'nquillity/ to harassed, conten'ding-nations. Let us tru'st, that that stroʻke of de‘ath/ which has borne him fro'm-us, may not have left the peace of the worʻld, and the civilized charities of ma'n, as orp'hans upon the e'arth!

With su'ch-a-man, to have battled in the cause of genuine li'berty — with su'ch a m'an, to have struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption — with such an example befoʻre me, to have to bo'ast/ that I ne'ver in

my life/ gave one vo'te-in-parliament/ that wa's not on the side of fre’edom, is the congratulation, that attends the re'trospect of my public-life. His frie'ndship/ was the pr'ide and ho'nour of my da'ys. I ne'ver, for one-moment, regretted to share wi'th-him the difficulties, the ca'lumnies, and/ soometimes even the daîngers, that attended his hoʻnourable-life. And no'w, revie'wing my past political con'duct, (were the option poʻssible that I should re-tread the path,) I so'lemnly

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and deliberately decl'are, that I would purs'ue the same course

- bea'r-up/ under the same pressure ab'ide/ by the same pr’inciples—and remain by his si'de, an ex'ile from po'wer, disti'nction, and emo'lument ! If I have missed the opportunity of obtaining a'll the support/ I might, perhaps, have had, on the present occa'sion, (from a very scrupulous d'elicacy, which I think became, and was incu'mbent-upon-me) -I ca'nnot repe’nt it! In so do'ing, I acted on the fee'lings/ upon wh'ich/ I am sensible/ all thoʻse would have ac'ted/ who loved Mr. Fox as I'-did. I fe'lt/ within myse'lfs, th’at/ while the slightest-aspiration might still quiver on those li'ps, that were the coʻpious-channels of e'loquence, wi'sdom, and bene'volence -thʼat) while on'e-drop of life's-blood might still war ́m tha'theart, which throbbed only for the gosod-of-mankind—I shou'ld not, I could not/ have acted o'therwise.

There is/ in true frie’ndship/ this'-advantage, that the infer·ior mind/ looks to the presiding in'tellect, as its gui'de and landmark/ while living, and to the engraven memory of his pr’inciples/ as a rule of conduct/ after his de’ath! Yet farther sti'll, (unmixed with any i'dle supers’tition, there may be gained a salutary le’sson/ from contemplating/ what would be grateful to the mind of the dep'arted, were he con'scious of what is passing here. I do solemnly belie've, tha't/ could suc'h-a-consideration/ have entered into Mr. Fox's last mo'ments — there is nothing his wasted spirits/ would so have de'precated, as a con test of the n'ature, which I now deprecate and relinquish.

Ge'ntlemen ! the hoʻur is not far dis'tant, when an awful kn'ell shall te'll-you, that/ the unburied rema'ins of your

revered patriot/ are passing through your streets, to that sepu'lchralhome, where your kin'gs- your heroes - your sa ges -and your po'ets, will be ho'noured by an associa'tion with hi'smortal-remains. At that ho’ur/ when the sad sole'mnity shall take place, (in a pri'vate-way, as more suited to the simple dignity of his cha'racter, than the splendid gau'diness of public pageantry ;) when yoʻu, (a'll of yoʻu,) shall be se'lf-marshalled in reverential soʻrrow-mu'te, and reflecting on your mi'ghtyloss -- at that moment/ shall the disgusting contest of an election-wran'gle/ break the solem'nity of su'ch-a-scene? Is it fitting that a'ny-man should overlook the crisis, and risk the mo'nstrous and disgu'sting-contest? Is it fitting that I should be tha't-man ?

-

can di'e!

EULOGY ON MR. SHERIDAN.*

ANONYMOUS. Mr. She'RIDAN IS NO MO'RE !- What a vo'lume is included in these few wor'ds, even when they are appli’ed to the hu'mblest-in'dividual! The loss of father, or so'n, of hi'm/ who was the stay and support of decli'ning-age or fee'ble-youth ! whose cou’nsels gu'ided, whose affections gladdened the little circle aro'und-him! All this mi'nd, all this heʻart, to be mu'te and mo'tionless and duạmb for e'ver! B’ut/ when a She`ridan is withdrawn fro'm us--the ma'ster-mind, the maoster-genius! talents/ which have adoʻrned and dig’nified the country in which he was bor'n, and the a'ge/ in which he li'ved—the first statesman, the first or'ator, the first po'et, the first wit - when such a man is taken-from-us, what a vas't-chasm ! what an irreparable loʻss ! That so much ge’nius, that so much miữnd/

To Mr. She'ridan/ belonged every kind of intellectual ex'cellence—he'cultivated every spe'cies of li'terature, and he cultivated no'ne/ wh'ich he did not adorn.

As a dramatic wri'ter, forty year's have elapsed since The Scho'ol-for-Scandal was brought out, and yet what writer has produced an'y-comedy/ to be put in competition with it? Who has e'qualled The Critic? As a Po'et, wh'o has surpassed the Mo'nody on the dea'th of Gar`rick ? As an o'rator (with the exception of Pitt and Bur'ke), who exce'lled him ?

He had stren'gth without coa'rseness, li'veliness without frivo'lity; he was boʻld, but de'xterous in his attaʼcks not easily repe’lled, but whe'n-repelled, effecting his retr'eat in good or'der. Often sev'ere—much oftener wi'tty, and gʻay, and gra'ceful

disentangling what was confused - enli’vening what was du'll — very clear in his arran'gement - very compreheʼnsive in his vi’ews ;-flashing upon his he'arers, with such a bu’rst of bri'lliancy ! when no o‘ther-speaker/ was list'ened-to, he could arrest and chain down the me'mbers/ to their se’ats--all hanging upon him with the most eager attention a'll fixed in won'der and delight; h'e never ti’red-he could ada'pt hims'elf (more than any o'ther-man,) to all min'ds, and to all capa'cities :-“ From gra've to gʻay, from li'vely to sever'e.” Every quality of an oʻrator/ was uni'ted-in-him-the mi'ndthe e'ye, (qui'ck, spa'rkling, pene'trating, matchʻless-almost/ for bri'lliancy and expr'ession) — the att'itude, the ge'sture, the voic'e. Mr. Pi'tt/ had more di'gnity, more copi'ousness, more gra'sp, more s'arcasm. Bu't, in rich'ness of i'magery, he was infe'rior to She'ridan, who had n'o superior bu't Burke.* He was less powerful and commanding in ar‘gument/ than Mr. Fo'x, but th'is was the only advantage Mr. Fo'x/ had o'ver him. As an oʻrator, we should place him after Pi'tt and Bu'rke. A friend to the li'berty of the pr'ess, he was a'rdent, u'niform, sin'cere. He never relaxed in his effoʻrts : he was not one of tho'se/ who would disguise their fears of its po'wer/ under affec'ted-apprehensions/ of its lice'ntiousness ; he knew that every gre'at-institution ha's its defe'cts: he did not wish to cut down the tree/ because of an excres'cence/ on one of its bra'nches.

* This eulogium was written in 1816, immediately after the death of this unrivalled wit and most commanding and captivating orator, but unfortunate and neglected man !--He had attained the age of 65.

From political li'fe/ he had been lo'ng withdra'wn. His retire'ment was un'willing, and he had not in it the co'mforts/ that should accompany-retirement. We fear that he had not even per'sonal-security; and that gri'ef/ may have had no small share/ in withdrawing from our sph'ere so sple'ndid a lu'minary, the last of that constellation of gre'at-men, who rendered the se'nate of Gr'eat-Britain moʻre-illustrious/ than the se'nates/ either of A'thens, or of Ro'me.

CELA'S DESCRIPTION OF A COMET.

Horg,-(The Ettrick Shepherd.)+
I can remember well
When yon was such a world as that you left ;
A nursery

of intellect for those

* Mr. Burke, who has been designated" the saviour of his country," was born in Dublin, and died in London in 1797, aged 67, regretted, if not beloved, by all parties.

| The “ Ettrick Shepherd,” James Hogg, whose “ Queen's Wake" and “ Pilgrims of the Sun" will outlive this generation, died, esteemed and respected by a large circle of friends, in 1835, aged 59.

Where matter lives not. Like these other worlds
It wheeled upon its axle, and it swung
With wide and rapid motion. But the time
That God ordained for its existence, run;
Its uses in that beautiful creation,
Where nought subsists in vain, remained no more
The saints and angels knew of it, and came
In radiant files, with awful reverence,
Unto the verge of Heaven, where we now stand,
To see the downfal of a sentenced world.
Think of the impetus that urges on
These ponderous spheres, and judge of the event
Just in the middle of its swift career,
The Almighty snapt the golden cord in twain
That hung it to the heaven-Creation sobbed !
And a spontaneous shriek rang on the hills
Of these celestial regions. Down amain
Into the void, the outcast world descended,
Wheeling and thundering on ! Its troubled seas
Were churned into a spray, and, whizzing, flurred
Around it like a dew. The mountain tops,
And ponderous rocks, were off impetuous flung,
And clattered down the steeps of night for ever
Away into the sunless, starless void,
Rushed the abandoned world ; and through its caves,
And rifted channels, airs of Chaos sung.
The realms of night were troubled—for the stillness
Which there from all eternity had reigned,
Was rudely discomposed ; and moaning sounds.
Mixed with a whistling howl, were heard afar
By darkling spirits ! Still with stayless force,
For
years

and down the wastes of night
Rolled the impetuous mass !-of all its seas
And superficies disencumbered,
It boomed along, till by the gathering speed,
Its furnaced mines, and hills of walled sulphur,
Were blown into a flame.—When, meteor like,
Bursting away upon an arching track,
Wide as the universe, again it scaled
The dusky regions.—Long the heavenly hosts
Had deemed the globe extinct-nor thought of it,
Save as an instance of Almighty power :

ages,

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