In a word, Sir, the period is arrived, when it is no longer a question who is to be Minister, who are to compose a party, or who have been to blame. Such discussions will not probably obtain conviction on either side—The day has passed for reflexions on those who have been alledged to have given confidence to Insurgency, or on those who have been said to have provoked it. The object of your consideration is now⸺the salvation of your Country. For myself, Sir, I shall no longer desire to remain in my own situation, than his Majesty, and this House, think I can be useful in it. If any one Man will take it from me, He will relieve me from the most anxious tasks that any Minister probably ever experienced: But, till then, Sir, I look to the support of this house, and to that of all good Men in defending and maintaining the glory and honour of Great Britain. [Sidenote: Col. B[a]rré.] Col. _B[a]rré_ began with recounting his predictions.—I foretold in the outset of the American contest, that your obstinacy would establish independance of the colonies. My first prophecy was, that France would join them—was I wrong?—I will boldly hazard one prediction more—I say, Spain sooner or later will join both⸺such are the allies of America.—Who are your’s? The Onandagas, the Tuscaroras, and the Choctaws! These are your copper coloured allies, that fix a stain on the name of Britain; and disgrace this country even in victory, as well as defeat—I knew of these alliances, and their barbarities, so early as the 8th of June last. I have a letter from a friend of mine at Poughkeepsie, of that date;—the Indians, headed by Col. B[u]tl[e]r, began their rapine in _Cherry Valley_; parties of _Indians and Tories_ (so my friend couples those blood-hounds of desolation) butchered the innocent inhabitants of _Sacandago_, and spread ruin and carnage through _Minisink_—I am sure, Col. B[u]tl[e]r, (who is indeed as gallant and amiable an Officer as ever I knew, and I know him well) never would have embrued his hands in innocent blood, but that he knew he must sacrifice his feelings to the speculative, I do not say practical, violence, of the American Secretary. Gen. C[a]rlt[o]n lost the Noble Lord’s favour by his abhorrence of the tomahawk and the scalping knife:—have not we tried those satanic instruments of death too long? Is the whole of Miss _Macreas_ race to be sacrificed? Not one innocent babe left unbutchered to lisp out the tale of that devoted, that unhappy family? Of whom are we now to enquire for any official documents of your war? I see no Secretary of War in this house? Does the American Secretary monopolize and consolidate all warlike business? I hope not.⸺