TRANSACTIONS OF THE SOCIETY. 115 



And, sir, whether as man or boy, in office or out, here or elsewhere, I 

 stand so much in need of the charity invoked in those two last lines, that 

 I repeat them from the bottom of my heart, 



" Don't view me with a critic's eye, 

 But pass my imperfections by." 



Your toast, however, concludes with a requisition upon me for a speech. 

 Oh, sir, that you could realize the enormity of that requisition, in a position 

 like mine. It is said, sir, and I have no doubt with great truth, that the 

 process of being hung is a very uncomfortable one. But though a person 

 in that situation has nothing to stand upon, he has the relief of something 

 to hold him up. But to rise here upon an occasion like the present, before 

 such an audience, after such gentlemen have gone before me, I feel as if I 

 had no support, either from top or bottom. 



The venerable President of Harvard College, in his remarks this even- 

 ing, said " that he came here to enjoy, and not to" — and as he paused at 

 this point, I felt as if he was going to say, " and not to suffer P He actu- 

 ally said, however, " and not to speak." Verily, I think the two words to 

 be quite synonymous." 



It is not for want of will, that I thus decline to make a speech. Indeed, 

 it is one of the difficulties — nay, it is one of the sorest trials of our frail 

 human nature, that our desires, our aspirations, so far outrun our abilities. 



I want to make a speech, and my aspirations prompt me to make a good 

 one. Even with the knowledge that such gentlemen as have already 

 spoken were to be here, I have dared to aspire to making a speech as good 

 as theirs. I cannot tell you how I have been exercised upon this matter, 

 ever since I rose this morning — to say nothing of my sleeplessness last 

 night — how I should rejoice to warm, and stir, and enkindle this audience. 

 But the moment of action has come, and yet I am powerless. Truly, sir, 

 my spirit is willing, but, alas, the flesh is weak. 



And then the topic appropriate to the occasion — what chance is there for 

 any thing new? There is the garden of Eden — a capital thing in its pri- 

 meval stale. But such hosts of invaders have taken possession of it, that 

 its guardian angel must have slept upon his post, and there is no room for 

 another settler. Fruits and flowers have been so thoroughly sung, that 

 they have almost withered before the quantity of wind that has been blown 

 upon them. And as for woman, she has been so often toasted, that, as 

 some wag once remarked, our directory would soon contain no other name 

 than that of Brown. 



I heard a story the other day, which, as it illustrates this difficulty, and 

 is a short one, permit me to repeat it. It was of an unmarried man, who, 

 though he pretended that he was not married, because he had never tried, 

 was yet known to have made more propositions, and received more rejec- 



