racter for wisdom and sanctity was well known. Every eye was fixed
upon his venerable countenance, every ear listened eagerly to the words
which fell from his honored lips. It was a remarkable scene; a spectator
could never have credited that this was an authoritative assembly into
which the hermit had presented himself unbidden; it seemed rather as if
that hall were the presence chamber of the wise and saintly man, and
deputies from far and near--knight, merchant, and peasant--had gathered
about him, and pressed forward to receive his judgment. With all the
eloquence of wisdom, and a heartfelt interest, the venerable man
addressed the assembly. He implored, he warned, he admonished; he
reminded them the interests of a whole nation were committed to their
hands, and that for the powers with which they were intrusted they were
not responsible to man alone, but also to their Almighty Maker. Had they
met together like traitors, like madmen, to tear asunder the body
politic over which they were the appointed guardians? Where was the
calmness of deliberation with which a dignified assembly should meet to
utter, and to listen? Was it to revile each other, to menace, that they,
grave and mature men, had come from the farthest limits of their common
country? Such language as he had heard, such disorder as he had
witnessed when he first crossed that threshold, was it manly, was it
honorable, was it rational? He bade them pause, and tell him to what,
under Providence, they owed their present position as a free and
independent nation, respected by their neighbours. Every man there
present knew beyond all contradiction, that it was to their union they
owed this great debt of glory and prosperity. Without union they never
could have attained to independence; without union they never could have
preserved their freedom against one of the most powerful princes of
Europe. And now, the very bond to which they and their fathers owed
every national blessing and individual safety, they stood ready, in a
moment of passion, to sever violently. He asked them if a national bond
were absolutely nothing, that they held it now so cheap? There were men,
he knew, in every land who held cheap each tie which bound them to their
fellows--men who had no feeling for father, or brother, or son; but,
thanks be to God, such was not the case with all. Most human hearts
could value every social bond, whether of family, kindred, or country.
And what course would