Virginia Free Press

Few persons will deny that Hope is not the food on which we often live, the nourishment of our souls, and the very spirit of our actions. The student retires from the busy scenes of fashion to his own lonely closet, with books for his companions, and his occupation, study—he shuts his door against the votaries of dissipation, and turns a deaf ear to the enchanting calls of pleasure. What is that which arms his spirits against the many obstacles which on every side present themselves: which prevents him from being pricked with the thorns on which he so often treads in his difficult path? It is hope that playfully hovers around him, and protects him from the horrors of despair. Why does joy light the countenance of the soldier, as he prepares to meet the coming enemy? Why does the glow of delight rise in his cheeks, and the smile of pleasure play around his lips? It is hope that thus animates him, and tells him that honor and glory await him. Why did Washington, (the splendor of whose name shall ever honor the historical page of America.) stretch forth his hand to save a falling nation, expose himself to the swords of the enemy, and stand undaunted at the cannon's mouth? It was Hope that whispered to his willing ear, that he might burst the chains of slavery that had hitherto bound this groaning country, and change the sighs and tears of its inhabitants into the gay effusions of joy and mirth; he delivered the reins of his affairs into the hands of Hope, and she drove him to the temple of glory.