thems of praise to the great "I AM," without change and without a wrinkle upon its azure brow. But that sun no longer shines upon a few straggling dwellings of three millions of people hugging the seacoast, and fenced in with dark heavy forests and glittering tomahawks of the savage Indians. No-the forests have melted away, and flourishing cities have sprung up in their stead. The Red man has disappeared, leaving his hunting grounds behind, and the grave of his father unprotected; and the energetic husbandman now drives his plow through this consecrated soil, unconscious of the sacred ashes he is disturbing. That sun no longer gilds our national flag containing thirteen stars and stripes-our banner is now emblazoned all over with a brilliant constellation of thirty-one ever glorious, ever radiant gems, and its ample folds floating proudly from its staff, cast their protecting shadows over an entire hemisphere, from the rosy chambers of the East, where the day is born, to the enamelled and gorgeously tinted bowers of the West, where his dying couch is spread. Such are the reflections which come over the sensitive mind on visiting the theatre of their sublime transactions. Their voices seem still to ring on our ears and their manly forms to stand before our eyes. Their portraits grace the walls where their deliberations were held, and give additional intensity to the holy inspirations of the place. Upon the scenes where such heroes labored, suffered, or fell, the mind loves to ponder with thoughtful reflections. For here it learns to appreciate the value of those blessings which we enjoy, but which were purchased at a costly price by our heroic ancestors. Few can read or meditate on

the story of our colonial struggles, and muse on the sublime transactions of the Convention of 1776, without feeling a deep reverence for their memory and exalted characters. Their names and their deeds will exist coequal in the eternity of gratitude which their descendants will ever retain as a boon and legacy.

CHAPTER IX.

THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

"With calmest courage they were ever ready

To teach that action was the truth of thought.
And with strong arm and purpose strong and steady,
The anchor of the drifting world they wrought.”

THERE dawned on the 4th of July, 1776, an era signalised as the most remarkable of any that had occurred in the world's history. It was a period when the faint voice of Freedom first gave decided tone to the advancement of civilization, and the fetters of bondage were stricken from the oppressed-when the genius of man's redemption was made manifest in a declaration of principles comprehensive as the world —when the authority of Despotism received a stern and decisive check. The aged and inflexible spirits who had assembled in convention in "Independence Hall," whose deliberations and actions formed the theme of our preceding chapter, had instructed their committee to draft a "Declaration," absolving the United Colonies from allegiance to the Mother Government, and asserting their own rights and independence. That committee had reported the document on the 28th day of June, and its provisions had elicited the attention and discussion of the Convention from that day until the 4th of July. The aggressive measures which the British Ministry had imposed upon her

subjects in America were calmly and earnestly acted upon-the commercial and business interests of the country were duly weighed-the fearful concomitants of a long and expensive military struggle were considered and properly estimated-and all the contingencies incident to a separate and distinctive nationality were calculated. The weighty importance of these vital questions had all been settled, and an expression of cool determination rested on the brows of those noble patriots. They were listening with earnest attention to the reading of the Declaration, by Secretary Charles Thompson, as amended, while scarcely a breath was audible except the voice of the Secretary. A holy calm pervaded the room, and the white-winged angel of peace came as a messenger from heaven to set God's approving signet upon their actions. There sat John Hancock in the President's chair, stern and inflexible; Robert Morris, calm and calculating; Thomas Jefferson, inveterately opposed to despotic governments; Dr. John Witherspoon, who was President of Princeton College; Philip Livingston, a man who filled many distinguished positions before the Revolution; Richard Henry Lee, an able politician; Samuel Huntington, Governor of Connecticut; Charles Carroll, a distinguished man; Francis Hopkinson, a lawyer of distinction; Samuel Chase, an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; Thomas McKean, an eminent jurist; Dr. Benjamin Rush, the celebrated physician, writer and teacher of medicine; John Adams, a member of Congress from Massachusetts; Dr. Benjamin Franklin, the Printer Philosopher; Josiah Bartlett, a very eminent man; William Whipple, of Portsmouth, New Hampshire;

Matthew Thornton, who was afterward appointed surgeon of the New Hampshire troops; Samuel Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry, Stephen Hopkinson, William Ellery, Roger Sherman, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott, William Floyd, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris, Richard Stockton, John Hart, Abraham Clark, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross, Cæsar Rodney, George Read, Thomas Stone, William Paca, Charles Carroll, of Carrollton; George Wythe, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Carter Braxton, William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn, Edward Rutledge, Thomas Hayward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton, Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton and Robert R. Livingston.* These men were constituted and chosen by Providence for the great work He had set before them--and no one can say but that they performed their duties well. They were the instruments selected to open a way for the oppressed to establish their rights and to vindicate popular justice. As we stand in Independence Hall, and calmly survey the only representatives left of those distinguished men, our minds go back in deep reflections, and memory recalls their exalted deeds. We see them in imagination, as they gather in their representative capacity, with high and holy resolves upon their brows, advance to the Secretary's table, for the purpose of recording their votes in favor of adopting the Declaration. When that eventful moment arrived; when the deed was consummated, old Independence Bell rang out the glad tidings to the

* This gentleman did not sign the Declaration of Independence, but he was one of the committee who drafted it.