praised as having singly, and by their personal prowess, delayed the ruin of their countrymen and country. At one period of the battle, the Normans were nearly routed. The cry was raised that the duke was slain, and they began to fly in every direction. William threw off his helmet, and galloping through the squad rons, rallied his barons, though not without great difficulty. Harold, on his part, used every possible exertion, and was distinguished as the most active and bravest amongst the soldiers in the host which he led on to destruction. A Norman arrow wounded him in the left eye; he dropped from his steed in agony, and was borne to the foot of the standard. The English began to give way, or rather to retreat to the standard as their rallying-point. The Normans encircled them, and fought desperately to reach this goal. Robert Fitz-Ernest had almost seized the banner, but he was killed in the attempt. William led his troops on with the intention, it is said, of measuring his sword with Harold. He did encounter an English horseman, from whom he received such a stroke upon his helmet, that he was nearly brought to the ground. The Normans flew to the aid of their sovereign, and the bold Englishman was pierced by their lances. About the same time the tide of battle took a momentary turn. The Kentish men and East Saxons rallied, and repelled the Norman barons; but Harold was not amongst them; and William led on his troops with desperate intrepidity. In the thick crowd of the assailants and the assailed, the hoofs of the horses were plunged deep into the gore of the dead and the dying. Gurth was at the foot of the standard, without hope, but without fear: he fell by the falchion of William. The English banner was cast down, and the Gonfanon planted in its place announced that William of Normandy was the conqueror. It was now late in the evening. The English troops were entirely broken, yet no Englishman would surrender. The conflict continued in many parts of the bloody field long after dark. By William's orders, a spot close to the Gonfanon was cleared, and he caused his pavilion to be pitched among the corpses which were heaped around. He there supped with his barons; and they feasted among the dead; but when he contemplated the fearful slaughter, a natural feeling of pity, perhaps allied to repentance, arose in his stern mind; and the Abbey of Battle, in which the prayer was to be offered up perpetually for the repose of the souls of all who had fallen in the conflict, was at once the monument of his triumph and the token of his piety. The abbey was most richly endowed, and all the land for one league round about was annexed to the Battle franchise. The abbot was freed from the authority of the Metropolitan of Canterbury, and invested with archiepiscopal jurisdiction. The high-altar was erected on the very spot where Harold's standard had waved; and the roll, deposited in the archives of the monastery, recorded the names of those who had fought with the Conqueror, and amongst whom the lands of broad England were divided. But all this pomp and solemnity has passed away like a dream. The 'perpetual prayer' has ceased for everthe roll of Battle is rent. The shields of the Norman lineages are trodden in the dust-the abbey is levelled with the ground-and a dank and reedy pool fills the spot where the foundations of the choir have been uncovered, merely for the gaze of the idle visitor, or the instruction of the moping antiquary. GEORGE TICKNOR. America has been desirous, as was remarked by Lockhart, to discharge the debt due to Spain, her first discoverer: 'the names of Irving and Prescott are already associated with Columbus and Isabella; nor will Ticknor henceforward be forgotten where Cervantes and his compeers are held in He remembrance.' The History of Spanish Literature, three volumes, 1849, by GEORGE TICKNOR (1791-1862), is a work of great merit, full, minute, and accurate, the result of thirty years' labour. The Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor were published in 1876, in two volumes. was a native of Boston, born in 1791, son of a wealthy citizen who is described as of the true New England type of character, energetic and cultivated, and who was one of the first importers of Merino sheep into the United States. The son was educated at Dartmouth College, and studied for the bar, but having practised for a twelvemonth, he satisfied himself that the life of a lawyer would not suit his simple ideas of usefulness or happiness. He therefore turned his thoughts to plans of study and travel. He started for Europe in 1815, and for five years travelled over various countries, residing successively in London, Göttingen, Paris, Geneva, Rome, Venice, Madrid, and Lisbon. In all those capitals he seems to have been in the best society, and his journal is full of the best sort of 'interviewing.' Mr Ticknor afterwards became Professor of the French and Spanish languages, and of the Belles Lettres in Harvard University. He died January 26, 1871, in his eightieth year. Besides his History of Spanish Literature, Mr Ticknor friend and countryman, Prescott, the historian. wrote a Life of Lafayette, and a memoir of his He also contributed various articles to reviews and literary journals. The following are extracts from his letters and journals: Goethe at Weimar in 1816. He is something above the middle size, large but not gross, with gray hair, a dark, ruddy complexion, and full rich black eyes which, though dimmed by age, are still very expressive. In manners he is simple. He received us without ceremony, but with care and elegance, and made no German compliments. The conversation, of course, rested in his hands, and was various. Of Lord Byron he spoke with interest and discrimination-said that his poetry shewed great knowledge of human nature, and great talent in description. Once his genius kindled, and he grew almost fervent as he deplored the want of extemporary eloquence in Germany, and said, what I never heard before, but which is eminently true, that the English is kept a much more living language by its influence. Here,' he said, 'we have no eloquence, our preaching is a monotonous, middling declamation-public debate we have not at all, and if a little inspiration comes to us in our lecture-rooms, it is out of place, for eloquence does not teach.' We remained with him nearly an hour, and when we came away he accompanied us as far as the parlour door with the same simplicity with which he received us. Sir Walter Scott. He is the lord of the ascendant now (1819) in Edinburgh, and well deserves to be, for I look upon him to be quite as remarkable in intercourse and conversation as he is in any of his writings, even in his novels. His countenance, when at rest, is dull and almost heavy, and even when in common conversation expresses only and especially when he is reciting poetry that he likes, a high degree of good-nature; but when he is excited, his whole expression is changed, and his features kindle into a brightness of which there were no traces before. One evening, after dinner, he told his daughter, Sophia Scott, to take her harp and play five or six ballads he mentioned to her, as a specimen of the prayers. The chapel was brilliantly lighted, and the Master and Fellows, in their robes of ceremony, made a striking appearance. JOHN L. MOTLEY.. Return A continuation different ages of Scottish music. I hardly ever heard anything of the kind that moved me so much. And yet, I imagine, many sing better; but I never saw such an air and manner, such spirit and feeling, such decision and power. I was so much excited that I turned round to Mr Scott and said to him, probably with great emphasis: 'I never heard anything so fine;' and he, seeing An excellent history of the Rise of the Dutch how involuntarily I had said it, caught me by the hand, and replied very earnestly: 'Everybody says so, sir;' but Republic, three volumes, 1856, has been written added in an instant, blushing a little, but I must not be by JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, born at Dorchester, too vain of her.' I was struck, too, with another little Massachusetts, in 1814, graduated at Harvard trait in her character and his that exhibited itself the University in 1831, and sometime secretary to the same evening. Lady Hume asked her to play Rob United States Legation at St Petersburg. Roy, an old ballad. A good many persons were ing to America, he devoted himself to literary present, and she felt a little embarrassed by the recol- pursuits. He had early in life written two novels, lection of how much her father's name had been men- which proved failures, and he afterwards applied tioned in connection with this strange Highlander's. himself to historical researches, residing for some (The authorship of the novels was not yet acknow-years in Germany and the Netherlands for the ledged, though generally believed.) She ran across better prosecution of his labours. His history the room to her father, and, blushing pretty deeply, embraces the period from the abdication of Charles whispered to him. "Yes, my dear,' he said, loud enough V. in 1555 to the death of William the Silent, to be heard, 'play, to be sure, if you are asked, and Prince of Orange, in 1584. Waverley and The Antiquary too, if there be any such appeared in 1860, and a further portion in 1865, ballads.' One afternoon, after I had become more acquainted with them, he asked me to come and dine, entitled The History of the United Netherlands, and afterwards go to the theatre and hear Rob Roy-a from the Death of William the Silent to the very good piece made out of his novel, and then playing Synod of Dort. In 1874 Mr Motley added The in Edinburgh with remarkable success. It was a great Life and Death of John of Barneveld, Advocate of treat. He did not attempt to conceal his delight during Holland, with a View of the Primary Causes and the whole performance, and when it was over, said to Movements of the Thirty Years War, 2 vols. me: That's fine, sir; I think that is very fine;' and The greater part of Barneveld's life had been then looked up at me with one of his most comical previously told by Mr Motley in his History of expressions of face, half-way between cunning and the United Netherlands, but this later work humour, and added: All I wish is that Jedediah describes the nine closing years of Barneveld's Cleishbotham could be here to enjoy it!' career. These historical labours of Mr Motley not only supply a desideratum in our historical literature, but constitute a narrative of deep interest, clear, vivid, and eloquent in style and diction. Their author has been rewarded with the honorary titles of D.C.L. from the university of Oxford, and LL.D. from the universities of Cambridge and New York. He was six years (18611867) minister from the United States at the court of Vienna, and one year (1869-70) at the Court of St James's, London. Sunday Dinner in Trinity Hall, Cambridge. The afternoon service at King's College Chapel was very fine, especially the music; and everything produced its full effect in that magnificent and solemn hall, the finest of its sort, no doubt, in the world. Afterwards I went with Whewell and Sedgwick to dine in the Hall of Trinity, a grand old place, vast, and a little gloomy and rude with its ancient rafters; but imposing, and worthy of the first college in the world, for the number of great men it has produced. It is the fashion for a nobleman, when he comes here, to be furnished with a silver cover, forks, and spoons, &c., and to leave them when he goes away. It chanced to-day that I had poor Lord Milton's cover, with his name and arms on it. At our table there were several strangers, among whom were Sir Francis Forbes, just from India, and the famous Joseph Hume of radical notoriety. After dinner, according to ancient custom, a huge silver cup or pitcher was passed round, containing what is called Audit Ale, or very fine old ale, which is given to the tenants of the College when they come to audit their accounts and pay their rents. We all drank from it standing up, each, as his turn came, wishing prosperity to the college. When this was over, an enormous silver ewer and basin, given by James I.'s Duke of Buckingham, were passed down, filled with rose-water, into which each one dipped his napkin. Finally, a small choir of selected singers came into the hall and sang the Latin chants appropriate to the day, with great richness and power, attracting a crowd in at the doors, among whom were several ladies, who looked sadly out of place in such a monastic refectory. It was a fine finale to the grave and ceremonious entertainment. We now adjourned to the combination-room, where, in great luxury and comfort, a dessert and wines were arranged for the members of the table of dais. We had done pretty well, I thought, in the way of wine at the hall, where there was an extraordinary amount of health-drinking, but here we had it on a more serious and regular footing. At last the bell rang for evening The Image-breaking of Antwerp. From The Rise of the Dutch Republic. A very paltry old woman excited the image-breaking of Antwerp (1566). She had for years been accustomed to sit before the door of the cathedral with wax tapers and wafers, earning a scanty subsistence from the profits of her meagre trade, and by the small coins which she sometimes received in charity. Some of the rabble began to chaffer with this ancient huckstress. They scoffed at her consecrated wares; they bandied with her ribald jests, of which her public position had furnished her with a supply; they assured her that the hour had come when her idolatrous traffic was to be for ever terminated, when she and her patroness Mary were to be given over to destruction together. The old woman, enraged, answered threat with threat, and gibe with gibe. Passing from words to deeds, she began to catch from the ground every offensive missile or weapon which she could find, and to lay about her in all directions. Her tormentors defended themselves as they could. Having destroyed her whole stock-in-trade, they provoked others to appear in her defence. The passers-by thronged to the scene; the cathedral was soon filled to overflowing; a furious tumult was already in progress. Many persons fled in alarm to the Town House, carrying information of this outbreak to the magistrates. John van Immerzeel, Margrave of Antwerp, was then holding communication with the senate, and awaiting the arrival of the wardmasters, whom it had at last been thought expedient to summon. Upon intelligence of this riot, which the militia, if previously mustered, might have prevented, the senate determined to proceed to the cathedral in a body, with the hope of quelling the mob by the dignity of their presence. The margrave, who was the high executive officer of the little commonwealth, marched down to the cathedral accordingly, attended by the two burgomasters and all the senators. At first their authority, solicitations, and personal influence produced a good effect. Some of those outside consented to retire and the tumult partially subsided within. As night, however, was fast approaching, many of the mob insisted upon remaining for evening service. They were informed that there would be none that night, and that for once the people could certainly dispense with their vespers. Several persons now manifesting an intention of leaving the cathedral, it was suggested to the senators that if they should lead the way, the population would follow in their train, and so disperse to their homes. The excellent magistrates took the advice, not caring perhaps to fulfil any longer the dangerous but not dignified functions of police-officers. Before departing, they adopted | the precaution of closing all the doors of the church, leaving a single one open, that the rabble still remaining might have an opportunity to depart. It seemed not to occur to the senators that the same gate would as conveniently afford an entrance for those without as an egress for those within. That unlooked-for event happened, however. No sooner had the magistrates retired than the rabble burst through the single door which had been left open, overpowered the margrave, who with a few attendants, had remained behind, vainly endeavouring by threats and exhortations to appease the tumult, drove him ignominiously from the church, and threw all the other portals wide open. Then the populace flowed in like an The whole of the cathedral was at the mercy of the rioters, who were evidently bent on mischief. The wardens and treasurers of the church, after a vain attempt to secure a few of its most precious possessions, retired. They carried the news to the senators, who, accompanied by a few halberdmen, again ventured to approach the spot. It was but for a moment, however, for, appalled by the furious sounds which came from within the church, as if invisible forces were preparing a catastrophe which no human power could withstand, the magistrates fled precipitately from the scene. Fearing that the next attack would be upon the Town House, they hastened to concentrate at that point their available strength, and left the stately cathedral to its fate. angry sea. And now, as the shadows of night were deepening the perpetual twilight of the church, the work of destruction commenced. Instead of vespers rose the fierce music of a psalm yelled by a thousand angry voices. It seemed the preconcerted signal for a general attack. A band of marauders flew upon the image of the Virgin, dragged it forth from its receptacle, plunged daggers into its inanimate body, tore off its jewelled and embroidered garments, broke the whole figure into a thousand pieces, and scattered the fragments along the floor. A wild shout succeeded, and then the work, which seemed delegated to a comparatively small number of the assembled crowd, went on with incredible celerity. Some were armed with axes, some with bludgeons, some with sledgehammers; others brought ladders, pulleys, ropes, and levers. Every statue was hurled from its niche, every picture torn from the wall, every painted window shivered to atoms, every ancient monument shattered, every sculptured decoration, however inaccessible in appearance, hurled to the ground. Indefatigably, audaciously endowed, as it seemed, with preternatural strength and nimbleness, these furious iconoclasts clambered up the dizzy heights, shrieking and chattering like malignant apes, as they tore off in triumph the slowly-matured fruit of centuries. In a space of time wonderfully brief, they had accomplished their task. A colossal and magnificent group of the Saviour crucified between two thieves adorned the principal altar. The statue of Christ was wrenched from its place with ropes and pulleys, while the malefactors, with bitter and blasphemous irony, were left on high, the only representatives of the marble crowd which had been destroyed. A very beautiful piece of architecture decorated the choir the 'repository,' as it was called, in which the body of Christ was figuratively enshrined. This much-admired work rested upon a single column, but rose, arch upon arch, pillar upon pillar, to the height of three hundred feet, till quite lost in the vault above. It was now shattered into a million pieces. The statues, images, pictures, ornaments, as they lay upon the ground, were broken with sledge-hammers, hewn with axes, trampled, torn, and beaten into shreds. A troop of harlots, snatching waxen tapers from the altars, stood around the destroyers, and lighted them at their work. Nothing escaped their omnivorous rage. They desecrated seventy chapels, forced open all the chests of treasure, covered their own squalid attire with the gorgeous robes of the ecclesiastics, broke the sacred bread, poured out the sacramental wine into golden chalices, quaffing huge draughts to the Beggars' health; burned all the splendid missals and manuscripts, and smeared their shoes with the sacred oil, with which kings and prelates had been anointed. It seemed that each of these malicious creatures must have been endowed with the strength of a hundred giants. How else in the few brief hours of a midsummer night, could such a monstrous desecration have been accomplished by a troop, which, according to all accounts, was not more than one hundred in number! There was a multitude of spectators, as upon all such occasions, but the actual spoilers were very few. The noblest and richest temple of the Netherlands was a wreck, but the fury of the spoilers was excited, not appeased. Each seizing a burning torch, the whole herd rushed from the cathedral, and swept howling through the streets. 'Long live the Beggars!' resounded through the sultry midnight air, as the ravenous pack flew to and fro, smiting every image of the Virgin, every crucifix, every sculptured saint, every Catholic symbol which they met with upon their path. All night long they roamed from one sacred edifice to another, thoroughly destroying as they went. Before morning they had sacked thirty churches within the city walls. They entered the monasteries, burned their invaluable libraries, destroyed their altars, statues, pictures, and, descending into the cellars, broached every cask which they found there, pouring out in one great flood all the ancient wine and ale with which those holy men had been wont to solace their retirement from generation to generation. They invaded the nunneries, whence the occupants, panic-stricken, fled for refuge to the houses of their friends and kindred. The streets were filled with monks and nuns, running this way and that, shrieking and fluttering, to escape the claws of these fiendish Calvinists. The terror was imaginary, for not the least remarkable feature in these transactions was, that neither insult nor injury was offered to man or woman, and that not a farthing's value of the immense amount of property destroyed was appropriated. It was a war, not against the living, but against graven images, nor was the sentiment which prompted the onslaught in the least commingled with a desire of plunder. The principal citizens of Antwerp, expecting every instant that the storm would be diverted from the ecclesiastical edifices to private dwellings, and that robbery, rape, and murder would follow sacrilege, remained all night expecting the attack, and prepared to defend their hearths, even if the altars were profaned. The precaution was needless. It was asserted by the Catholics that the Confederates, and other opulent Protestants, had organised this company of profligates for the meagre pittance of ten stivers a day. On the other hand it was believed by many that the Catholics had themselves plotted the whole outrage in order to bring odium upon the Reformers. Both statements were equally unfounded. The task was most thoroughly performed, but it was prompted by a furious fanaticism, not by baser motives. Two days and nights longer the havoc raged unchecked through all the churches of Antwerp and the neighbouring villages. Hardly a statue or picture escaped destruction. Yet the rage was directed exclusively against stocks and stones. Not a man was wounded nor a woman outraged. Prisoners, indeed, who had been languishing hopelessly in dungeons were liberated. A monk who had been in the prison of the Barefoot Monastery for twelve years, recovered his freedom. Art was trampled in the dust, but humanity deplored no victims. GEORGE BANCROFT. When of the clans, which listened to Powhatan as their leader or their conqueror, comprehended about eight thousand square miles, thirty tribes, and twenty-four hundred warriors; so that the Indian population amounted to about one inhabitant to a square mile. The natives, naked and feeble compared with the Europeans, were nowhere concentrated in considerable villages, but dwelt dispersed in hamlets, with from forty to sixty in each company. Few places had more than two hundred; and many had less. It was also unusual for any large portion of these tribes to be assembled together. An idle tale of an ambuscade of three or four thousand is perhaps an error for three or four hundred; otherwise, it is an extravagant fiction, wholly unworthy of belief. Smith once met a party that seemed to amount to seven hundred; and so complete was the superiority conferred The history of the United States has been ably by the use of firearms, that with fifteen men he was able and copiously related by a native historian, MR to withstand them all. The savages were therefore GEORGE BANCROFT. This gentleman was born regarded with contempt or compassion. No uniform care in 1800, at Worcester, in Massachusetts. His had been taken to conciliate their goodwill; although father, Dr A. Bancroft, a Congregational or Uni- their condition had been improved by some of the arts tarian minister, had written a Life of Washington, be judged by the intelligence of their chieftain. A house of civilised life. The degree of their advancement may 1807, and the paternal tastes and example had having been built for Opechancanough after the English probably some effect in directing the literary fashion, he took such delight in the lock and key, that labours of the son. Having graduated with dis- he would lock and unlock the door a hundred times a tinction at Harvard College, he afterwards studied day, and thought the device incomparable. in Germany, and on his return entered the Church. Wyatt arrived, the natives expressed a fear lest his A love of literature, however, prevailed, and Mr intentions should be hostile; he assured them of his Bancroft commenced author by publishing a wish to preserve inviolable peace; and the emigrants volume of Poems. Some translations from the had no use for firearms except against a deer or a fowl. German, chiefly the historical manuals of Pro- Confidence so far increased, that the old law, which fessor Heeren, next engaged Mr Bancroft, and he made death the penalty for teaching the Indians to use a added to these precarious literary gains by open-fowlers and huntsmen.' The plantations of the English musket, was forgotten; and they were now employed as ing a school at Northampton. He seems next to have tried public employment, and was succeswere widely extended in unsuspecting confidence, along sively collector at the port of Boston and secretary rich grounds invited to the culture of tobacco; nor were the James River and towards the Potomac, wherever of the navy. In 1846, he was appointed minister solitary places, remote from neighbours, avoided, since plenipotentiary to England. The latter appoint- there would there be less competition for the ownership ment may be considered as due to the literary of the soil. reputation of Mr Bancroft, who had then entered on his great historical work. In 1834 appeared his History of the Colonisation of the United States, volume i. A second volume was published in 1837, and a third in 1840. The success of this work induced the author to continue his researches, and he commenced the History of the American Revolution. From 1852 to 1858, four volumes were published, making seven in all, devoted to the history of the United States. There was much new information in these volumes, for manuscript and unpublished sources were thrown open to their author; his style was lively and energetic, and his democratic prejudices, though sometimes unnecessarily brought forward, gave a warmth and individuality to the narrative. The historian was in earnest a hearty lover of his country, and of the founders of its independAt the same time, his narrative must be pronounced fair and candid, and free from any attempt to awaken old animosities. ence. Massacre of English Colonists by Indians. Between the Indians and the English there had been quarrels, but no wars. From the first landing of colonists in Virginia, the power of the natives was despised; their strongest weapons were such arrows as they could shape without the use of iron, such hatchets as could be made from stone; and an English mastiff seemed to them a terrible adversary. Nor were their numbers considerable. Within sixty miles of Jamestown, it is computed, there were no more than five thousand souls, or about fifteen hundred warriors. The whole territory 582 Powhatan, the father of Pocahontas, remained, after the marriage of his daughter, the firm friend of the English. He died in 1618; and his younger brother was now the heir to his influence. Should the native occupants of the soil consent to be driven from their ancient patrimony? Should their feebleness submit patiently to contempt, injury, and the loss of their lands? defence, seemed to demand an active resistance; to preThe desire of self-preservation, the necessity of selfserve their dwelling-places, the English must be exterminated; in open battle the Indians would be powerless; conscious of their weakness, they could not hope to accomplish their end except by a preconcerted surprise. The crime was one of savage ferocity; but it was suggested by their situation. They were timorous and quick of apprehension, and consequently treacherous; for treachery and falsehood are the vices of cowardice. The attack was prepared with impenetrable secrecy. To the very last hour the Indians preserved the language of friendship; they borrowed the boats of the English the massacre, they were in the houses and at the tables to attend their own assemblies; on the very morning of of those whose death they were plotting. Sooner,' said they, shall the sky fall, than peace be violated on our part. At length, on the twenty-second of March (1622), at midday, at one and the same instant of time, the Indians fell upon an unsuspecting population, which was scattered through distant villages, extending one hundred and forty miles on both sides of the river. The onset was so sudden, that the blow was not discerned till it fell. None were spared; children and women, as well as men; the missionary, who had cherished the natives with untiring gentleness; the liberal benefactors, from whom they had received daily benefits, all were murdered with indiscriminate barbarity, and every aggravation of cruelty. The savages fell upon the dead bodies, as if it had been possible to commit on them a fresh murder. In one hour three hundred and forty-seven persons were cut off. Yet the carnage was not universal; and Virginia was saved from so disastrous a grave. The night before the execution of the conspiracy, it was revealed by a converted Indian to an Englishman, whom he wished to rescue; Jamestown and the nearest settlements were well prepared against an attack; and the savages, as timid as they were ferocious, fled with precipitation from the appearance of wakeful resistance. In this manner, the most considerable part of the colony was saved. The Town of Boston in the Last Century. The king set himself, and his ministry, and parliament, and all Great Britain, to subdue to his will one stubborn little town on the sterile coast of the Massachusetts Bay. The odds against it were fearful; but it shewed a life inextinguishable, and had been chosen to keep guard over the liberties of mankind. The Old World had not its parallel. It counted about sixteen thousand inhabitants of European origin, all of whom learned to read and write. Good public schools were the foundation of its political system; and Benjamin Franklin, one of their grateful pupils, in his youth apprenticed to the art which makes knowledge the common property of mankind, had gone forth from them to stand before the nations as the representative of the modern plebeian class. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, the poet, and SYDNEY HOWARD GAY, was commenced in 1876, to be completed in four volumes. This will be a very splendid work, finely illustrated and printed, and written in a pleasing style. Three Periods in American History. The history of the United States (says Mr Bryant) naturally divides itself into three periods, upon the third of which we lately, at the close of our civil war, entered as a people with congruous institutions in every part of our vast territory. The first was the colonial period; the second includes the years which elapsed from the Declaration of Independence to the struggle which closed with the extinction of slavery. The colonial period was a time of tutelage, of struggle and dependence, the childhood of the future nation. But our real growth, as a distinct member of the community of nations, belongs to the second period, and began when we were strong enough to assert and maintain our independence. To this second period a large space has been allotted in the present work. Not that the mere military annals of our Revolutionary War would seem to require a large proportion of this space, but the various attendant circumstances, the previous controversies with the mother-country, in which all the colonies were more or less interested, and which grew into a common cause; the consultations which followed; the defiance of the mother-country in which they all As its schools were for all its children, so the great joined; the service in an army which made all the body of its male inhabitants of twenty-one years of age, colonists fellow-soldiers; the common danger, the comwhen assembled in a hall which Faneuil, of Huguenot an- mon privations, sufferings, and expedients, the common cestry, had built for them, was the source of all muni- sorrow at reverses and rejoicing at victories, require to cipal authority. In the meeting of the town, its taxes be fully set forth, that it may be seen by how natural a were voted, its affairs discussed and settled; its agents transition these widely-scattered communities became and public servants annually elected by ballot; and ab- united in a federal republic, which has rapidly risen stract political principles freely debated. A small prop-to take its place among the foremost nations of the erty qualification was attached to the right of suffrage, world, with a population which has increased tenfold, but did not exclude enough to change the character of and a sisterhood of States enlarged from thirteen to the institution. There had never existed a considerable thirty-seven. municipality approaching so nearly to a pure democSo crowded with events and controversies is this racy; and, for so populous a place, it was undoubtedly second part of our history, and the few years which the most orderly and best governed in the world. have elapsed of the third; so rapid has been the accumIts ecclesiastical polity was in like manner republican.ulation of wealth and the growth of trade; so great The great mass were Congregationalists; each church was an assembly formed by voluntary agreement; selfconstituted, self-supported, and independent. They were clear that no person or church had power over another church. There was not a Roman Catholic altar in the place; the usages of papists' were looked upon as worn-out superstitions, fit only for the ignorant. But the people were not merely the fiercest enemies of We are not without the hope that those who read 'popery and slavery;' they were Protestants even against what we have written, will see in the past, with all Protestantism; and though the English Church was its vicissitudes, the promise of a prosperous and honourtolerated, Boston kept up its exasperation against pre-able future, of concord at home, and peace and respect lacy. Its ministers were still its prophets and its guides; its pulpit, in which, now that Mayhew was no more, Cooper was admired above all others for eloquence and patriotism, by weekly appeals inflamed alike the fervour of piety and of liberty. In the Boston Gazette, it enjoyed a free press, which gave currency to its conclusions on the natural right of man to self-government. Its citizens were inquisitive; seeking to know the causes of things, and to search for the reason of existing institutions in the laws of nature. Yet they controlled their speculative turn by practical judgment, exhibiting the seeming contradiction of susceptibility to enthusiasm, and calculating shrewdness. They were fond of gain, and adventurous, penetrating, and keen in their pursuit of it; yet their avidity was tempered by a well-considered and continuing liberality. Nearly every man was struggling to make his own way in the world and his own fortune; and yet individually, and as a body, they were public-spirited. have been the achievements of inventive art and the applied sciences; with such celerity has our population spread itself over new regions, and so vehement have been the struggles maintained against its abuses, moral and political, that it has not been easy to give due attention to all of them, without exceeding the limits prescribed for this work. abroad; and that the same cheerful piety, which leads the good man to put his personal trust in a kind Providence, will prompt the good citizen to cherish an equal confidence in regard to the destiny reserved for our beloved country. DANIEL WEBSTER. of Erskine and Brougham, the great American As we have noticed the popular forensic oratory orator, DANIEL WEBSTER (1782-1852), should not be overlooked. He was the Chatham of the New World, and Chatham could not have pronounced a more glowing eulogium on England than fell from the lips of this Western Republican. Eloquent Apostrophe to England. Our fathers raised their flag against a power to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, A Popular History of the United States, by in the height of her glory, is not to be compared-a |