name to the great certificate of our national birth, and rejoiced in freedom illumined by the conflagration of Morrisania. His family and himself suffered many privations during the remainder of the war, but suffered patiently, without regret for the past and with brighter hopes for the future. In 1777 he resigned his seat in Congress and repaired to his native state, in the legislature of which he rendered important services. He also served in the tented field and rose to the rank of major-general of militia. He was an excellent disciplinarian and contributed essentially in the organization of the state troops. In every situation he ably and zealously discharged all his duties, and never left the post of service until the American arms triumphed in victory, and the independence of his country was firmly established and acknowledged by the mother country. Then he retired to his desolated plantation, converted his sword into a pruning hook, his musket into a ploughshare, and his farm into a delightful retreat, where his friends from the city often visited him to enjoy his agreeable society, talk of times gone by, and rejoice in the consolations of blood-bought liberty. Peacefully and calmly he glided down the stream of time until January 1798, when his immortal spirit left its frail bark of clay and launched upon the ocean of eternity in a brighter and more substantial vessel. He died serene and happy, surrounded by an affectionate family and kind friends. His remains were deposited in the family vault upon his farm, under the honours of epic fame and civic glory. The examples of Mr. Morris illustrate the patriotism that impelled to action during the revolution in a more than ordinary degree. He had every thing that could be destroyed to lose, if the colonies _succeeded_ in the doubtful struggle; and if they did not, the scaffold, or death in some shape, was his certain doom. He was, previous to the revolution, a favourite with the English; and, what was more, his brother Staats was a member of the British parliament and a general officer under the crown. But few made so great a personal sacrifice, and no one made it more cheerfully. Like Marion, he preferred a morsel of bread, or even a meal of roasted potatoes, with liberty and freedom, to all the trappings and luxuries of a king without them. So long as this kind of disinterested patriotism finds a resting place in the bosoms of Columbia’s sons, our union is safe—let this be banished and the fair temple of our liberty will perish in flames kindled by its professed guardians and sentinels. JOHN HART.