The national whig. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1847-1847, 1847-06-09

W tuat soulu ilSpedkS 10 us ike voice
from our youth--lilse knell from Gods
Judgment-like solemn yet kind remem-
brancer of friends now dead and gone.
There Is terrible poetry in that sound
at dead ofnight, but there was day when
the echo OF that Bell awoke world, slum-
berlng IN tyranny and crime!
Yes as the old man swung the Iron
Tongue the Bell spoke TO all the world
That sound crossed the Atlantic--pierced
The dungeons of Europe--the workshops Of
England-the vassal fields of France,
j That Echo spoke to the slaye-bade
him look from his toil--and know himself a
man.
That Echo startled the Kings upon their
crumbling thrones.
That Echo was the knell Of King craft,
Priest-crait, and all other crafts born Of the
darkness Of ages, and baptised in seas Of
blood.
Yes, the voice Of that little bov who lift
ing himself on tip-toe, with his faxen hair
blowing in the breeze, shouted Ring p
had deep and awful meaning in its infant
tones!
! Why did that word sRingn-why did
Echo Of the State House Bell speak such
deep and awful meaning to the world p
What had that word sRingi'-lhe Echo of
that Bell to do with the downfall Of the Dis
honest Piiest or Traitor King
Under that very Bell, pealng out at noon
day, in an old hail, ffty-six traders, far
mers and mechanics, had assembled to shake
the shackles Of the world.
! Nnw LOT nc lob in MAN This hand ,c
| plain men, met in solemn council. Il is
now half an hour previous to the moment
when the Bell-Ringer responded to the
shout Of the fair-haired boy.
This is an old hall. it's not so large as
many monarch's ante-room; you might
put hundred like it within the walls Of
st. Peters, and yet it is a fine old hall. The
walls are concealed in dark oaken wains-
cotting, and there along the Enclosed win
dows, the purple tapestry comes dropping
down.
I The ornaments Of this hall?
i Over the head of that noble-browed man
John Hancock, who sits calm and severe
in yonder chair-there isa banner, the Ban
ner Of the Stars. Perched on that Banner
sits the Eagle with unfolded wings. (Is it
not precocious bird' Born only last year
on Bunker Hill, now it spreads its wings,
full-grown, over whole Continent!)
/ Look over the faces Of these ffty-six men
and see every eye turned to that door -
There is silence in this hall-every voice
is hushed-eyery face is stamped with a
deep and awful responsibility.
Why turns every glance to that door,
why is every face SO solemn, why is it SO
terribly still2
The Committee Of Three, who have been
out all night, planning parchment are about
to appear
! That Parchment, with the signatures of
these men,, written with the, Pen lvinG on O.
4 onuer table, Will either make the world
free, or stretch these necks upon the gibbet
yonder in Potter's-feld, or nail these heads
to the dooI-posts of this hall!
j That was the time for. solemn faces and
deep silence.
AT last, bark! The door opens-the Com
mi,tee appear. Who are these three men
who come walking on toward John Han
cocks chair.
That tall man, with the sharp features,
| the bold brow and sand-hued hair, holding
The Parchment in his hand, is the Vir-
ginia farmer, Thomas Jefferson. The stout
built man with resolute, look and flashing
eyer That is Boston man-one John
Adams. And The calm faced man, with
hair dropping in thick curls to his sho ulders
that man, dressed in plain coat, and such
odious homemade blue stocdings- tina is
the Philadelphia Printer, one Benjamin
franklin.
The three advances to the table -
! The Parchment is laid there Shall it be
signed or not
Then ensues high and stormy debate
then the faint hearted cringe in corners-
while Thomas Jefferson speaks out his few
bold words, and John Adams pours out his
whole soul
Then the soft-toned voice Of Charles Car
rol is heard, unduating in syllables of deep
music.
| But still there is no doubt-and that pale
faced man, shrinking in one corner squeaks
out something about axes, scaffods, and
GIBBET.
! 'GIBBET' echoes fierce, bold voice,
that startles men from their seats, and look
yonder! A tall slender man rises, dressed
although it is summer tme--in faded
red cloak. Look how his white hand un-
dulates as il is stretched slowly out, how
that dark eye burns, while his words ring
through the hall eve do not know his
name, let US therefore call his appeaD
THE SPEECH OF THE MAN IN THE RED
| CLOAK.
tGibbet9 They NAV stretch our necks