sible in our numbers, visited the heart with sickening
misery. This summer extinguished our hopes, the vessel of society was
wrecked, and the shattered raft, which carried the few survivors over the
sea of misery, was riven and tempest tost. Man existed by twos and threes;
man, the individual who might sleep, and wake, and perform the animal
functions; but man, in himself weak, yet more powerful in congregated
numbers than wind or ocean; man, the queller of the elements, the lord of
created nature, the peer of demi-gods, existed no longer.

Farewell to the patriotic scene, to the love of liberty and well earned
meed of virtuous aspiration!--farewell to crowded senate, vocal with the
councils of the wise, whose laws were keener than the sword blade tempered
at Damascus!--farewell to kingly pomp and warlike pageantry; the crowns
are in the dust, and the wearers are in their graves!--farewell to the
desire of rule, and the hope of victory; to high vaulting ambition, to the
appetite for praise, and the craving for the suffrage of their fellows! The
nations are no longer! No senate sits in council for the dead; no scion of
a time honoured dynasty pants to rule over the inhabitants of a charnel
house; the general's hand is cold, and the soldier has his untimely grave
dug in his native fields, unhonoured, though in youth. The market-place is
empty, the candidate for popular favour finds none whom he can represent.
To chambers of painted state farewell!--To midnight revelry, and the
panting emulation of beauty, to costly dress and birth-day shew, to title
and the gilded coronet, farewell!

Farewell to the giant powers of man,--to knowledge that could pilot the
deep-drawing bark through the opposing waters of shoreless ocean,--to
science that directed the silken balloon through the pathless air,--to
the power that could put a barrier to mighty waters, and set in motion
wheels, and beams, and vast machinery, that could divide rocks of granite
or marble, and make the mountains plain!

Farewell to the arts,--to eloquence, which is to the human mind as the
winds to the sea, stirring, and then allaying it;--farewell to poetry and
deep philosophy, for man's imagination is cold, and his enquiring mind can
no longer expatiate on the wonders of life, for "there is no work, nor
device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest!"--to
the graceful building, which in its perfect proportion transcended the rude
forms of natu