Mr. ELLIOT.--Mr. Chairman, although in the short time since I have had the honor of a seat on this floor, I have several times risen in debate, that circumstance scarcely diminishes my diffidence at the present moment. Uneducated in the schools, and unpractised in the arts, of parliamentary eloquence, it is with no inconsiderable degree of diffidence that I rise upon the present occasion. There are occasions, however, where even the eye of timidity should sparkle with confidence; and there are questions in the discussion of which the finger should be removed from the lip of silence herself. And such is every occasion and every question involving the existence, the infraction, or even the correct and just construction of that constitution which is the palladium of our privileges, and the temple of our glory. If I might be permitted to borrow a metaphorical expression from one of the most celebrated commanders of antiquity, who declared that he intended to spread all his sails on the ocean of war, I would say that it is with fear and trembling I presume to launch my little feeble bark on the vast ocean of eloquence and literature (_pointing to the federal members_) by which I am surrounded. If, however, the remark be just, that it is even sweet and glorious to die for one’s country, surely the humbler sacrifice of native diffidence may with propriety be expected and exacted from a juvenile American Representative. Whatever minuter shades or minor differences of opinion may exist among the American people, there is one point in which we shall all meet with cordial unanimity. We all unite in an ardent devotion to the constitution. He who is not devoted to it is unworthy of the honorable name of an American. I lament that it is necessary to speak particularly of myself; but duty, not only to myself, but to my constituents, a numerous and respectable section of the American people, demands it. It may be objected to me, and with truth, that there was a time when I professed sentiments hostile to some of the most important provisions in the constitution. It was not, however, at the time when the constitution was submitted to the people. I was then in infancy and obscurity, deprived of the means, and even of the hopes of education. I had yet read much and reflected more. My ardent and excursive eye had wandered rapidly over the wide field of ancient history; I thought I beheld my country, like the Roman Republic in the age of Cato, the sport of every wind and of every wave. As far as I understood the constitution, I admired it and wished for its adoption. But when an elegant anonymous writer predicted, as the consequence of its adoption, that “liberty would be but a name, to adorn the short historic page of the halcyon days of America,” I trembled and shuddered for the possible consequences. If in the plenitude of juvenile self-sufficiency (and who has not been young?) I have since