long and uninterrupted. But do facts correspond to this supposition? Are God, his providence, and bounty, most sensibly and devoutly acknowledged by you, who feel no want, and are tried by no adversity? The truth is, our sense of obligation usually diminishes in proportion to the greatness and duration of blessings bestowed. A long course of prosperity renders us the more insensible and irreligious.

But on no subject is human ingratitude so remarkably apparent, as in regard to the Christian religion. I speak not of those who reject, but of those who believe Christianity, and who of course believe that "God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him might not perish." Search all the records of every era and nation; look through the works of God so far as they are open to human inspection, and you find nothing which equally displays the riches of divine mercy. The Son of God died to save culprits from merited condemnation. But is this subject contemplated with interest, with joy, with astonishment? It is viewed with the most frigid indifference or heartfelt reluctance. The human mind, far from considering this as a favourite subject, flies from it, when occasionally presented.

Resistance to Oppression.”—J. QUINCY, JUN.

To complain of the enormities of power, to expostulate with overgrown oppressors, hath in all ages been denomi nated sedition and faction; and to turn upon tyrants, treason and rebellion. But tyrants are rebels against the first laws of Heaven and society; to oppose their ravages is an instinct of nature-the inspiration of God in the heart of man. In the noble resistance which mankind make to exorbitant ambition and power, they always feel that divine afflatus, which, paramount to every thing human, causes

This piece is extracted from "Observations on the Boston Port Bill," first published in 1774, and recently reprinted in connexion with the Life of Mr. Quincy, by his son.-ED.

them to consider the Lord of Hosts as their leader, and his angels as fellow-soldiers. Trumpets are to them joyful sounds, and the ensigns of war the banners of God. Their wounds are bound up in the oil of a good cause; sudden death is to them present martyrdom, and funeral obsequies resurrections to eternal honour and glory,-their widows and babes being received into the arms of a compassionate God, and their names enrolled among David's worthies :greatest losses are to them greatest gains; for they leav the troubles of their warfare to lie down on beds of eter nal rest and felicity.

Lafayette in the French Revolution.-TICKNOr.

LAFAYETTE was, also, a prominent member of the States General, which met in 1789, and assumed the name of the National Assembly. He proposed, in this body, a Declaration of Rights, not unlike our own, and it was under his influence, and while he was, for this very purpose, in the chair, that a decree was passed on the night of the 13th and 14th of July,-at the moment the Bastile was falling before the cannon of the populace,-which provided for the responsibility of ministers, and thus furnished one of the most important elements of a representative monarchy. Two days afterwards, he was appointed commander in chief of the National Guards of Paris, and thus was placed at the head of what was intended to be made, when it should be carried into all the departments, the effective military power of the realm, and what, under his wise management, soon became such.

His great military command, and his still greater personal influence, now brought him constantly in contact with the throne. His position, therefore, was extremely delicate and difficult, especially as the popular party in Paris, of which he was not so much the head as the idol, was already in a state of perilous excitement, and atrocious violences were beginning to be committed. The abhorrence of the queen was almost universal, and was excessive to a degree of which we can have no just idea. The

circumstance that the court lived at Versailles, sixteen miles from Paris, and that the National Assembly was held there, was another source of jealousy, irritation, and hatred on the part of the capital. The people of Paris, therefore, as a sign of opposition, had mounted their municipal cockade of blue and red, whose effects were already becoming alarming. Lafayette, who was anxious about the consequences of such a marked division, and who knew how important are small means of conciliation, added to it, on the 26th of July, the white of the royal cockade, and, as he placed it in his own hat, amidst the acclamations of the multitude, prophesied that it "would go round the world" a prediction that is already more than half accomplished, since the tri-coloured cockade has been used for the ensign of emancipation in Spain, in Naples, in some parts of South America, and in Greece.

Still, however, the tendency of every thing was to confusion and violence. The troubles of the times, too, rather than a positive want of the means of subsistence, had brought on a famine in the capital; and the populace of fauxbourgs, the most degraded certainly in France, having assembled and armed themselves, determined to go to Versailles; the greater part with a blind desire for vengeanco on the royal family, but others only with the purpose of bringing the king from Versailles, and forcing him to reside in the more ancient, but scarcely habitable palace of the Thuilleries, in the midst of Paris. The National Guards clamoured to accompany this savage multitude. Lafayette opposed their inclination; the municipality of Paris hesitated, but supported it; he resisted nearly the whole of the 5th of October, while the road to Versailles was already thronged with an exasperated mob of above a hundred thousand ferocious men and women, until, at last, finding the multitude were armed, and even had cannon, he asked and received an order to march from the competent authority, and set off at four o'clock in the afternoon, as one going to a post of imminent danger, which it had clearly become his duty to occupy.

He arrived at Versailles at ten o'clock at night, after having been on horseback from before daylight in the morning, and having made, during the whole interval, both

at Paris and on the road, incredible exertions to control the multitude and caim the soldiers. "The Marquis de Lafayette at last entered the Château," says Madame de Staël, "and, passing through the apartment where we were, went to the king. We all pressed round him as if he were the master of events, and yet the popular party was already more powerful than its chief, and principles were yielding to factions, or rather were beginning to serve as their pretexts. M. de Lafayette's manner was perfectly calm ; nobody ever saw it otherwise; but his delicacy suffered from the importance of the part he was called to act He asked for the interior posts of the Château, in order that he might ensure their safety. Only the outer posts were granted to him." This refusal was not disrespectful to him who made the request. It was given simply because the etiquette of the court reserved the guard of the royal person and family to another body of men. Lafayette, therefore, answered for the National Guards, and for the posts committed to them; but he could answer for no more; and his pledge was faithfully and desperately redeemed.

Between two and three o'clock, the queen and the royal family went to bed. Lafayette, too, slept after the great fatigues of this fearful day. At half past four, a portion of the populace made their way into the palace by an obscure, interior passage, which had been overlooked, and which was not in that part of the Château intrusted to Lafayette. They were evidently led by persons who well knew the secret avenues. Mirabeau's name was afterwards strangely compromised in it, and the form of the infamous Duke of Orleans was repeatedly recognised on the great staircase, pointing the assassins the way to the queen's chamber. They easily found it. Two of her guards were cut down in an instant, and she made her escape almost naked. Lafayette immediately rushed in with the national troops, protected the guards from the brutal populace, and saved the lives of the royal family, which had so nearly been sac. rificed to the etiquette of the monarchy.

The day dawned, as this fearful scene of guilt and bloodshed was passing in the magnificent palace, whose construction had exhausted the revenues of Louis Fourteenth, and which, for a century, had been the most splendid resi

dence in Europe. As soon as it was light, the same furias multitude filled the space, which, from the rich materials of which it was formed, passed under the name of the Court of Marble. They called upon the king, in tones not to be mistaken, to go to Paris; and they called for the queen, who had but just escaped from their daggers, to come out upon the balcony. The king, after a short consultation with his ministers, announced his intention to set out for the capital; but Lafayette was afraid to trust the queen in the midst of the blood-thirsty multitude. He went to her, therefore, with respectful hesitation, and asked her if it were her intention to accompany the king to Paris. "Yes," she replied," although I am aware of the danger." "Are you positively determined?" "Yes, sir." "Condescend, then, to go out upon the balcony, and suffer me to attend you." "Without the king?"-she replied, hesitating "Have you observed the threats?" "Yes, madam, I have; but dare to trust me." He led her out upon the balcony. It was a moment of great responsibility and great delicacy; but nothing, he felt assured, could be so dangerous as to permit her to set out for Paris, surrounded by that multitude, unless its feelings could be changed. The agitation, the tumult, the cries of the crowd, rendered it impossible that his voice should be heard. It was necessary, therefore, to address himself to the eye, and, turning towards the queen with that admirable presence of mind which never yet forsook him, and with that mingled grace and dignity, which were the peculiar inheritance of the ancient court of France, he simply kissed her hand before the vast multitude. An instant of silent astonishment followed, but the whole was immediately interpreted, and the air was rent with cries of "Long live the queen!" "Long live the general!" from the same fickle and cruel populace, that, only two hours before, had imbrued their hands in the blood of the guards who defended the life of this same queen.