Nor sculptured clay with lying breath,
Insult the clay that moulds beneath.

"Ye shall not pile with servile toil

Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common soil,

Lay down the wreck of power to rest,
Where man can boast that he has trod,
On him that was the scourge of God.'

"But ye, the mountain stream shall turn,
And lay its secret channel bare,
And hollow for your sovereign's urn-

A resting-place for ever there."

The above is part of a poem, entitled "Alaric the Visigoth," who stormed and spoiled the city of Rome, and was afterwards buried in the channel of the river Busentius.

Mr. Everett seldom startles the reader with a paradox, rarely assails any popular idol, never sneers at a rival. It is evident that he writes with the expectation of being read by future generations, or he would not finish his sentences, and round his periods in such strict accordance with the rules of rhetoric, and with such a lavish display of erudition, and such fastidious nicety in selecting his quotations. He takes the place of Webster, but he cannot fill it. He has not that elephantine force, that ponderous logic, that masculine energy, and that off-hand readiness, which so pre-eminently character-. ized the mighty Daniel. He is, however, a man of more refined accomplishments, has more scholarship, has a better

acquaintance with general literature than his great predeces sor. In comparing him with those who were and those who are his associates, I should say, he is more polished than Webster, more classical than Cass, more graceful than Benton, more learned than Calhoun, more elegant than Clay.

Not long since, I saw him in the senate chamber, at Washington; he was revising the smooth speech which he delivered a short time before the senate adjourned. It was as full of flattering compliments as a Christmas pudding is of plums.

Mr. Everett is about sixty years of age; erect as a libertypole, of perfect mould, pale features, blue eyes, towering brow, hair turning grey, mouth and chin finely cut; in a word, his face indicates the scholar and the gentleman he is. He dresses richly, fashionably, not foppishly, and looks like a lord.

The extracts with which we conclude our sketch of Mr. Everett, are from a speech, delivered at Plymouth, on the 3d of August, 1853.

MR. EVERETT'S SPEECH.

"You, Mr. President, have been good enough to intimate that among our numerous honored guests, to whom your complimentary remarks might have applied with equal justice as to myself, with possibly a single exception, that I am the individual to whom you look to respond to the toast which has just been announced. I rise to obey your call. It is true, that there is a single circumstance by which it is possible that

the allusion may have been more exclusively applied to me than any other gentleman present, for it is most true that on one pleasant occasion on which I have been at this delightful and beloved Plymouth, I have suggested that it might be expedient, not always, but occasionally, to transfer the celebration of the great day from the winter to the summer season. Supposing that to be the allusion which you had in your mind, I feel that I may, without impropriety, obey your call in rising to respond to the toast that has just been given.

"It is now hard upon thirty years since I had the honor, on the 22d December, to address the sons and daughters of the Pilgrims, assembled in this place. I deemed it a peculiar privilege and an honor. I deem it, sir, a still greater honor to find myself here on this joyous occasion, and to be permitted to participate in this happy festival, where we have an attendance of so many distinguished friends and fellow citizens from distant parts of the Union-from almost every state in the Union, sir, you have already told us-where we are favored with the company of the representatives of the New England Society of New York, one of those institutions which are carrying the name and the principles of the Pilgrims to the farthest ends of the Union; where we are gratified with the company of our military friends from the same city, the great commercial emporium of the United States; where we are honored with the presence of so much of the gravity, the dignity, and the character of the community; and where we are favored with the presence of so much of beauty, of grace, and of loveliness. (Applause.)

"A few days ago, as I saw in the newspapers, two light birch-bark canoes appeared in Boston harbor, containing each a solitary Indian. They seemed, as they approached, to gaze in silent wonder at the city of the triple hills, rising street above street, and crowned with the dome of the State House, and at the long line of villas stretching far into the back ground; at the numerous tall vessels outward bound, as they dropped down the channel and spread their broad wings to the breeze, and those which were returning weather-beaten from the ends of the earth; at the steamers dashing in every direction across the harbor, breathing volumes of smoke from their fiery lungs. They paddled their frail barks with dexterity and speed through this strange, busy, and to them, no doubt, bewildering scene; and having made the circuit of East Boston, the Navy Yard, the city itself, and South Boston, dropped down with the current, and disappeared among the islands.

"There was not a human being of kindred blood to utter a word of welcome to them, in all the region, which on the day we now commemorate was occupied by their forefathers in Massachusetts. The race is gone. It would be a mistaken sentimentality to regret the change; to regret that some thousand uncultured barbarians-destitute of all the improvements of social life, and seemingly incapable of adopting them, should have yielded gradually to the civilized millions who have taken their place. But we must, both as men and as Christians, condemn whatever of oppression and wrong has marked the change (as is too apt always to be the case, when

strong and weak are brought into contact with each other), and without affectation we may indulge a heartfelt sympathy for the feeble and stricken relics of once powerful and formidable tribes of fellow men.

"The discovery itself of the American continent may, I think, be fairly considered the most extraordinary event in the history of the world In this, as in other cases, familiarity blunts the edge of our perceptions; but, much as I have meditated, and often as I have treated this theme, its magnitude grows upon me with each successive contemplation. That a continent nearly as large as Europe and Africa united -spread out on both sides of the equator,-lying between the western shores of Europe and Africa and the eastern shore of Asia—with groups of islands in either ocean, as it were, stopping-places on the march of discovery;-a continent not inhabited indeed by civilized races, but still occupied by one of the families of rational man,—that this great hemisphere, I say, should have laid undiscovered for five thousand years upon the bosom of the deep,—a mystery so vast, within so short a distance, and yet not found out, is indeed a marvel. Mute nature, if I may so express myself, had made the discovery to the philosopher, for the preponderance of land in the eastern hemisphere demanded a counterpoise in the

west.

"Dark-wooded trees had drifted over the sea and told of the tropical forests where they grew. Stupendous ocean currents, driven westward by the ever-breathing trade-winds, had