the question of boundary, expressly reserved in the Act of Annexation, related solely to the country beyond the Nueces and in the direction of the Rio Grandea question which it was one professed object of the Mission of Mr. Slidell, instituted by the President himself, to adjust with Mexico; that the jurisdiction of Texas, though exercised "beyond the Nueces," never extended to or near the Rio Grande; that though the country "between" these two rivers had been represented in the Congress and Convention of Texas, and is now included within one of our Congressional districts, and within our revenue system, yet that neither Texan authority, nor the authority of the United States, had ever approached within a hundred miles of the Rio Grande, until our power was carried there by the hostile march of an invading army. All this the President knew; and we believe he acted with a full understanding or at least a confident expectation-of the consequences that have resulted, when he issued his order for the march of that army. The war is his, and he made it.

But we must bring this article to a close. It is manifest to us that the object which the President has all along proposed to himself to secure, out of our dif. ficulties with Mexico, has been the acquisition of territory. Fifteen hundred miles of territory, from the mouth to the highest sources of the Rio Grande, on the left bank of that river, including several towns and cities, and sixty thousand Mexicans, with several of the richest mines in all Mexico-so much, at least, was to be secured. And if Upper California, with Monterey, and the fine harbor of San Francisco, could be clutched at the same time, no doubt the President has thought that his administration would be signalized as among the most glorious in the annals of the aggrandized republic. He has calculated largely on the supreme affection which he thinks animates the American people for their neighbor's possessions or what he supposes to be the covetous desires, the rapacity, and the ambition of the "Model Republic." Witness the absurd and false claim set up to the whole of Oregon-as high as fiftyfour, forty-and his readiness to involve us in war with England, to back this pretension.

The President must allow us to do him the justice to say, that he has been more consistent with himself from the beginning of this Mexican business, than he

has been willing should publicly appear. As soon as he was fairly settled in his seat, his policy was fixed. Texas proper was secured already, and without his aid. He must have more than ever belonged to Texas. There was the fine country of the Rio Grande-that he would have at all hazards; and his appetite was sharp for California also. Mexico owed our citizens some millions, and she was unwise enough to sulk about Annexation, and yet leave these debts unpaid. Here was a capital chance for a blow, and a speculation. He could get her lands in consideration of the debts, and make war upon her, if need be, to secure them, and still throw the fault of the war on her. He could make her bear all and everything—the loss of Texas-the loss of as much more territory as we could grasp― and the blame and the cost of the war. The new territory acquired would pay for all, and the country would sing peans to the President, and compel him to serve them for another term. Mexico was poor, distracted, in anarchy, and almost in ruins-what could she do to stay the hand of our power, to impede the march of our greatness? We were Anglo-Saxon Americans; it was our "destiny" to possess and to rule this continent - we were bound to do it! We were a chosen people, and this was our allotted inheritance, and we must drive out all other nations before us!

The President was ready to bring on this war with Mexico in June, a year ago. Everything was said and done to seduce General Taylor, even then, to prepare for his march, and not to stop short of the Rio Grande. At first some degree of caution was employed. He was to defend Texas, as far as wherever Texans had extended their possessions; and he was to approach as near the Rio Grande as prudence would allow. But he was not to disturb any Mexican posts or Mexican settlements. Shortly after this, he was told, if a Mexican force should cross the Rio Grande, or attempt to cross it, this would be war; and Texas must be defended-an object which he would then but secure by himself crossing the river and taking and holding possession of Matamoras and "other places" in the country. No more cautions now about Mexican posts and settlements this side of the Great River. Finally, he was told, with the Rio Grande again distinctly set before him: "You need not wait for directions from Washington, to carry out what you may

deem proper to be done." This was said to General Taylor, after the President had become satisfied that "no serious attempt would be made by Mexico to invade Texas." Still the wily soldier held back. Mexico would not invade Texas, and Taylor would not invade Mexico. What was to be done? Says the President, "After our army and navy had remained on the frontier and coasts of Mexico for many weeks, without any hostile movement on her part, I deemed it important to put an end, if possible, to this state of things." Then the mission to Mexico was undertaken. It was undertaken in order "to put an end to this state of things." The President was impatient that Mexico would commence no hostile movement on her part. That mission came to an unhappy conclusion, and still without any prospect of a "hostile movement" on the part of Mexico. And then it was, and finally, "to put an end to this state of things," that the peremptory order was given for the march of our army to the Rio Grande. Hence the war!and he who runs may read how it was begun, and for what objects it was undertaken.

We had intended, in conclusion, to recur to the plans of the Administration for prosecuting this war, in connection with the objects manifestly proposed to be secured by it. And we had intended, also, to note some of the more glaring instances where the Constitution has been, and is, wantonly trampled upon in this business. But we must stop. Hardly has the President deemed it necessary to pay even a decent and cold respect to the remains of that once venerated instrument. In every step of his progress-in sending an army into Texas, and in authorizing a call for militia from that country, while it was still a foreign and independent republic in directing the invasion of the proper soil of Mexico, covered with Mexican posts and settlements--in beginning a

war with Mexico on his sole authority, even though Congress was then present at Washington-and finally, now, in undertaking the conquest of Mexico, even, if need be, to the gates of the Imperial City, with an army to be composed of militia, to the amount of five-sixths of its numbers, when his utmost authority, under the Constitution, is to employ militia "to repel invasions"-in all these things, and in others which might be named, he manifests a reckless disregard of Constitutional restraints, and of his own solemn oath, in which he leaves far behind him, in the career of daring experiment and political gambling, the worst and boldest of his predecessors. God help the country, while he remains at the head of it!

We have intimated, in the commencement of this article, what we thought the Administration ought to do the initiative steps it ought immediately to take-to restore peaceful relations with Mexico. But we confess we have little to hope from the Administration-except in the difficulties which will certainly environ every step of its further progress in its proposed career of conquest. Possibly Mexico, having done what she could, may soon succumb to our power. beyond this, our hopes of peace rest mainly on the interested interposition of other Powers-of England or France, or both with their friendly offices, to me. diate between us and Mexico. Without such mediation, if prayers of ours could be heard in such high quarters, we would pray the Administration, for the honor of the country, for humanity's sake, to make peace with Mexico.

But

We pray God to

put thoughts of peace into their heartspeace with justice and honor-peace without conquest, or the wanton desire of spoiling the enemy of his goods, his possessions and his heritage.

D. D. B.

HUNT's temperament and genius have been strongly marked by the decided characters of his parents. His father was a West Indian, a descendant of a long line of clergymen, and was educated at Philadelphia, where, when difficulties broke out between England and America, he sided zealously with the mother country, and became obnoxious to the citizens, who seized him with the intention of giving him a coat of tar and feathers; but while proceeding on their way to accomplish their design, their prisoner was struck on the head so violently by a stone, that he fell senseless, and his eyesight was so much impaired by the blow, that he ever after was compelled to wear glasses. He now thought it best to leave for England, and on his arrival in London he was strenously advised to go on the stage by some actors who had heard him recite, but instead of this he went into the church. When he spoke his farewell oration on leaving College, two young ladies fell in love with him, one of whom he afterwards married. He is described as being fair and handsome, with delicate features, a small aquiline nose and blue eyes. To a graceful address he joined a remarkably fine voice, which he modulated with great effect. It was by reading that he completed the conquest of his wife's heart, a graceful and noble method of courtship. He was ordained by the celebrated Lowth, then Bishop of London, and in a short time became so popular that the Bishop sent for him and remonstrated against his preaching so many charity sermons. His delivery was admirable, and one day Thomas Sheridan came up to him in the vestry and complimented him on having profited so well from his treatise on reading the Liturgy. Fancy the astonishment of Sheridan

when quietly informed by the parson that he had never seen it. Crowds of carriages were to be seen at the door of the church, and one of his congregation had an engraving made of him, and a lady of the name of Cooling left him by her will £500, as a return for the gratification his sermons had afforded her. Unfortunately his polished manners and accomplished mind, joined with a strong inclination and keen relish for the festive enjoyments of society, too often brought him to the tables of the gay and the witty. He was blessed with various and pliant powers. He told a story capitally, had seen much of life, which gave a shrewdness and point to his conversation. Here he was in his element. Better for him if he had remained in Barbadoes; there he could unreproved have quoted Horace, enjoyed “the pleasant labyrinths of ever fresh discourse," and quaffed his wine. There is much matter of fact in the nature of John Bull, and in his island," where merchants most do congregate," the gay dashing divine was incomprehensible to the shopkeepers, who knew not under what head to class him, especially as he was poor. With ten thousand a year, he could have led the same life unreproached and even admired.

"But let a man of parts be wrong, 'Tis triumph to the leaden throng. The fools shall cackle out reproof, The very ass shall raise his hoof; And he who holds in his possession, The single virtue of discretion, . Who knows no overflow of spirit, Whose want of passion is his merit, Whom wit and taste and judgment flies, Shall shake his noddle and seem wise."

He became careless and inattentive to his profession, "society became his glit

tering bride, and airy hopes his children." He was appointed by the Duke of Chandos tutor to his son; but his character was like Henry Fielding's, as described by Lady Montague; give him his leg of mutton and bottle of wine, and in the very thick of calamity he would live happily for the time being. Embarrassments arising from becoming security for others pressed heavily on him; he lost his good name, which made him poor indeed, and finally became the inmate of a jail and the first room his gifted son, Leigh Hunt, had any recollection of was a prison. His habits had now become inveterate, and the promises of amendment made to his wife seemed to produce no good fruit. To the very last he had a great fondness for sermons, and he daily read the Scriptures ;-there was no hypocrisy in this for it was to him the book of books. These many trials of life must have fallen severely on Mrs Hunt's affectionate heart, but even she had glimpses of sunshine, when the little room having been put in order, the fire brightened up, and coffee placed on the table, her husband with his fine voice and unequivocal enjoyment, would read some sermon of Saurin or Barrows. This to her was the height of enjoyment; she had but two accomplishments, but these two were the best of all, a love of nature and of books. Nevertheless this man, with all his imprudence and unfitness for the duties of life, was humane, full of candor, free spoken, liberal to the virtues and weaknesses of his fellowmen. The mother was most exemplary in all the duties of life, and labored anxiously to keep the family comfortable and together

"Stealing when daylight's common tasks were done

An hour for mother's work, and singing

low

While her tried husband and her children slept."

Leigh Hunt says he can never forget her looks when she used to come to the school where he was, to see him, "with that weary hang of the head and melancholy smile." Suffering had softened her heart to the miseries of her race, and it is related of her, which ought to embalm her in the memories of all, that on a severe winter's day she was accosted in the street by a woman, feeble and ill clad, who asked for charity. Mrs. Hunt with tears in her eyes beckoned her up a

To

gateway, and taking off her flannel petticoat gave it to her. It is supposed that a cold which ensued fixed the rheumatism on her for life. Was not that an angelic act, gentle reader, and do you not feel a moisture in your eye and a pressure about your heart? In her decay her great pleasure was to lie on a sofa, and look at the setting sun which she likened to the door of heaven, and fancied that her lost children were there waiting for her. Both she and her husband had become Unitarians and republicans. Leigh Hunt has descended with increase his parents' virtues. Some of his earliest writing is to be found in the "News," published in London in 1805. He was the dramatic critic for that paper, and established an entire new system of criticism. Before this period nothing could be more meagre and unsatisfactory than theatrical notices. The audience were generally more observed and commented on than the performers, especially if there were a number of lords and ladies gracing the boxes. Hunt commenced with the resolution to become acquainted with no actor or actress, so that he might be untrammeled, and that personal friendships might not interfere to warp his judgment. He was filled with the hope of exciting a laudable ambition in the actors, who had hitherto been, for the most part, a mere mark for scandal or ill-judged praise. His acquaintance with plays was considerable, and he joined with this a fondness for theatrical amusements. His remarks are excellent and well written, and the evanescent and fragile beauties of fine acting are dwelt upon with a delicate tact. 'Iris had dipt the woof." "As to the contempt that has been cast upon histrionic genius, it is not worthy an argument. If the knowledge of ourselves be the height of wisdom, is that art contemptible which conveys this knowledge to us in the most pleasing manner? If the actor is inferior to the true dramatist, if he merely tells others what has been told himself, does the officer deserve no praise who issues the instructions of his general with accuracy, with spirit, with an ardor that shows he feels them? For my part I have the greatest respect for an art which has been admired by the greatest critics, ancient and modern, which Horace did not think it beneath his genius to advise, Addison to commend, and Voltaire to practice as well as protect. That genius cannot be despicable in the eyes of