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tered the ear of the God of the oppressed. Yes, sir, while we were thus professing our admiration of freedom, we who now sit in this hall, were at that moment sustaining a slave-market in this city, far more shocking to the feelings of humanity than can be found in any other part of the civilized world."

Mr. Giddings has been always at his post in Washington-has always been faithful to his constituents. He has at all times been ready to meet the south upon any subject involving the question of slavery ; he has opposed all compromises with the “institution," and though hated, yet is respected by the slaveholding members of congress.

The sternness which characterizes Mr. Giddings's character, his persevering devotion to principle, has, as a matter of course, made him many enemies, north as well as south. Politicians generally hate men of principle; political leaders, or at least corrupt political leaders, do not like to meet with men who cannot be threatened, or bribed, or cheated. Mr. Giddings has too much spirit to bear a threat, too much principle to entertain a bribe, and too much common sense to be led astray by designing politicians.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Not merely as a poet, a politician, or an editor, is Mr. Bryant distinguished. He is widely known as a philanthropist. His sympathies are always with the unfortunate; and though from his retiring disposition he has had little to do with philanthropic organizations, yet he deserves the esteem of all lovers of humanity for his constant, unwavering devotion to the welfare of his race. Though editing a political journal, he has long advocated the cause of the slave with masterly ability, and an impressive sincerity. Long ago, when the abolitionists were subjected to the outrages of mobs, Mr. Bryant came out boldly in his journal in condemnation of the mob-spirit, though at that time it was popular to justify illegal attacks upon

the anti-slavery reformers. Since then he has himself become nearly anti-slavery in his feelings and principles, and in his journal has not hesitated to rebuke his

party friends, though high in office, for their zeal in extending the institution of slavery.

Mr. Bryant was born at Cummington, Massachusetts, on the 3d of November, 1794. His father was a physician of good education and respectable talents.

He early saw in his boy the germ of a brilliant genius, and spared no pains in his education. At a very early age, the boy wrote poetry. When but thirteen years old, he wrote two poems of considerable length, which were published in a book form. In 1810 he entered Williams' College, where he distinguished himself in the languages, and in polite letters. He remained there two years, when desiring to leave, he sought and obtained an honorable dismissal. He at once commenced the study of the law, and was admitted to practice at the bar in Plymouth, Mass., in the year 1815. He continued to practice his profession till 1825, when he removed to New York. His famous poem, perhaps his best, “Thanatopsis,” was written in 1821, or at least published during that year in a volume with others. He was married in 1825, and one year after he assumed the proprietorship and editorship of the New York Evening Post, one of the oldest and most influential democratic journals in the country. He has ever since been connected with that paper, adding much to its usefulness and popularity. Of Mr Bryant's person and manners, we can say little, but will quote from the “ Homes of American Authors," upon this head, premising that “Roslyn” is his country seat, a little away from New York:

“ Mr. Bryant's habits of life have a smack of asceticism, although he is the disciple of none of the popular schools which,

under various forms, claim to rule the present world in that direction. Milk is more familiar to his lips than wine, yet he does not disdain the cheerful hour' over which moderation presides. He eats sparingly of animal food, but he is by no means afraid to enjoy roast goose lest he should outrage the manes of his ancestors, like some modern enthusiasts. He "hears no music,' if it be fantastical, yet his ear is finely attuned to the varied harmonies of wood and wave. His health is delicate, yet he is almost never ill; his life laborious, yet carefully guarded against excessive and exhausting fatigue. He is a man of rule, but none the less tolerant of want of method in others; strictly self-governed, but not prone to censure the unwary or the weak-willed. In religion he is at once catholic and devout, and to moral excellence no soul bows lower. Placable, we can, perhaps, hardly call him, for impressions on his mind are almost indelible; but it may with the strictest truth be said, that it requires a great offense or a great unwor. thiness to make an enemy of him, so strong is his sense of justice. Not amid the bustle and dust of the political arena, cased in armor offensive and defensive, is a champion's more intimate self to be estimated, but in the pavilion or the bower, where, in robes of ease, and with all professional ferocity laid aside, we see his natural form and complexion, and hear, in placid domestic tones, the voice so lately thundering above the fight. So we willingly follow Mr. Bryant to Roslyn; see him musing on the pretty rural bridge that spans the fish-pond; or taking the oar in his daughter's fairy boat; or pruning his trees; or talking over farming matters with his neighbors; orr-to return to the spot whence we set out some time ago—sitting calm and happy in that pleasant library, surrounder

friends he loves to draw around him, or listening to the prattle of infant voices, quite as much at home there as under their own more especial roof — his daughter's within the same inclosure.

“ In person, Mr. Bryant is quite slender, symmetrical, and well poised ;, in carriage, eminently firm and self-possessed. He is fond of long rural walks and of gymnastic exerciseson all which his health depends. Poetical composition tries him severely—so severely, that his efforts of that kind are necessarily rare. His are no holiday verses; and those who urge his producing a long poem are, perhaps, proposing that he should, in gratifying their admiration, build for himself a monument in which he would be self-enveloped. Let us rather content ourselves with asking a few more of the same,' especially of the later poems, in which, certainly, the poet trusts his fellows with a nearer and more intimate view of his inner and peculiar self, than was his wont in earlier times. Let him more and more give human voice to woods and waters; and, in acting, as the accepted interpreter of nature, speak fearlessly to the heart as well as the eye. His countrymen were never more disposed to hear him with delight; for, since the public demand for his poems has placed a copy in every house in the land, the taste for them has steadily increased, and the national pride in the writer's genius become a generous enthusiasm, which is ready to grant him an apotheosis while he lives."

We shall not attempt to criticise Mr. Bryant as a poot. An anonymous critic says, and justly, we think:

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