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inj; the apj lause due to her, they make great ad lit ion to it They owed, all of them, their advancement to her choice; they were supported by her constancy; and, with all their abilities they were never able to acquire any undue ascendant over her. In her family, in her court, in her kingdom, she remaiued equally mistress; the force of the tender passions was great over her, but the force of her mind was still superior; and the combat37 which her victory visibly cost her serves only to display the firmness of her resolution, and the loftiness of her ambitious sentiments.

The fame of this princess, though it has surmounted the prejudices1' both of faction and bigotry, yet lies still exposed to another prejudice, which is more durable, because more natural, and which, according to the different views in which we survey her, is capable either of exalting beyond measure, or diminishing the lustre of her character. This prejudice is founded on the consideration of her sex.

When we contemplate84 her as a woman, we are apt to be struck with the highest admiration"*f her great qualities and extensive capacity; but we are also apt to require some more soft-'•"s of disposition, some greater lenity of temper, some of those r.*of,q Dy which her sex is distinguished. But the \hcr merit is, to lay aside all these coner merely as a rational being, placed in jth. tie government of mankind. "

nind? ^Why was It~~that the jailer, morning, did not find his prisoner 'd or >! j besetting — one eternal idea, — was

w.iirh t.i heart, or paralyze the brain?

And. du' i, — during these six years, during thia

rnity, — n ,- t a murmur, as his jailers testified,

e-aped from r; although, without doubt, when the

wibpi'tt wa^ ?hen the gjale tore up the waves, when

hed the walls, — he too had his utterance; f'" might be lost in the great voice of y could distinguish his cries and sobs; '.. )rs, who had not feasted on his despair, - - !'i Mi'.in . . resigned, — the tempest in his heart *. 'ai.;i iiu.«icd, h. ii that in the sky. . , . ,-:,_Ah !. wii'-v'jj.L^'.lif-t — without that — would he not have 4. Milton. Quarterly Recim." "^a{npA»


It ia impossible to refuse to Milton the honor due to a life of he emcerest piety and the most dignified virtue. No man ever lived undera more abiding sense of responsibility. NoSj

> irore faithfully to use time and talent" as ever in the great Taskmaster's eye." No man so richly endowed was ever less ready to trust in his own powers, or more prompt to own his dependence on "that eternal and propitial throne, where nothing ia readier than grace and refuge to the distresses of mortal suppliants." His morality was of the loftiest order. He possessed a self-control which, in one susceptible of such ve'hement emotions, was marvellous. No one ever saw him indulging in those propensities which overcloud the mind and pollute10 the heart.

No youthful excesses treasured up for him a suffering and remorseful old age. From his youth up he was temperate in all things, as became one who had consecrated himself to a lifestruggle against vice, and error, and darkness, in all their forms. He had started with the conviction "that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well, hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem; that is, a composition and pattern of the best and honorablest things; " and from this he never swerved. His life was indeed a true poem; or it might be compared to an anthem on his own favorite organ — high-toned, solemn, and majestic.

5. Washington.Webster.

The character' of Washington" is among the most cherished contemplations of my life. It is ,a fixed star in the firmament of great names, shining without tw inkling or obscuration, with clear, steady, beneficent light. It is associated and blended with all our reflections on those things which are near and dear to us, K we think of the independence of our country, we thirfk of him whose efforts were so prominent in achieving,.it': if the constitution which is over us,. we"""', much to establish it, and whose' 'njmi

acknowledged to be ajlit JiitBa'^ * -1. Ann yet, after allTitis man spirit," that gives to this grand thea erial unive

all its substantial use and worth, a i irlo'-y! Withow

men and angels, without Mind to '-- and enjoy it, t«:

honor and glorify its Author, it w1 -c a splendid and

costly panorama" without spectator

O Ti. 'J I ''



1. I Have endeavored to show that th&rinttinsie yame v« wenius is a secondary consideration, compared to the use to which It is applied; that genius ought to be estimated chiefly by the


charactei of the subject upon which it is employed, or of the cause which it advocates; that it should be considered, in fact as a mere instrument, a weapon, a sword,"' which may be used in a good cause, or in a bad one; may be wielded by a patriot, or a highwayman; may give protection to the dearest interesta of society, or may threaten those interests with the irruption of pride, and profligacy, and folly, —of all tho vices which compose the curse and degradation of our species.

2. I am the more disposed to dwell a little upon this subject, because I am persuaded that it is not sufficiently attended to,131 — nay, that in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred it is not attended to at all ;1" —that works of imagination are perused for the sake of the wit which they display; which wit not only reconciles us to, but endears to us, opinions, and feelings, and habits, at war with wisdom and morality,—to sty nothing of religion; — in short, that we admire the polish, the temper, and shape of the sword, and the dexterity with which it is wielded, though it is the property of a lunatic, or of a bravo ; though it is brandished in the face of wisdom and virtue; and, at every wheel,103 threatens to inflict a wound38 that will disfigure some feature, or lop some member; or, with masterly adroitness, aims a death-thrust at the heart!

3. I would deprive genius of the worship that is paid to it for its own sake. Instead of allowing it to dictate to the "world, I would have the world dictate to it, — dictate to it so far as the vital interests of society are affected. I know it is the opinion of many that the moral of mere poetry is of little avail; that we are charmed by its melody and wit, and uninjured by its levity and profaneness; and hence many a thing has been allowed in poetry, whi^h would have been scouted, deprecated, rejected, had it appeared in prose; as if vice and folly were

- ;—-wr-foj. being introduced to us with an elegant and

tied the walls, — he too had his uttermight be lost in the great voice of j could distinguish his cries and sobs; Ts, who had not feasted on his despair, ,i resigned, — the tempest in his heart * that in the sky.

; - O- -' "' . .

tv" »nea. of the species forces itself upon him. The species is not perfect; out it retains too much of the image of its Maker, preserves too " many evidences of the modelling of the Hand that fashioned it, is too near to the hovering providence of its disregarded but still cherishing Author, to excuse, far less to call for of which it is a part, is only one among the myriad'" hosts of heaven! With all its innumerable suns and systems, and the tremendous voids that lie between, it is only one company in the grand army of God; a single cluster among multitudes of others of equal and greater magnitude and splendor.

7. And, if three thousand millions of miles separate50 the sun from one of its planets, and twenty millions of millions of miles separate one sun from another, what, — the same stupendous scale being preserved,1* — what must be the breadth of that nameless profound which separates one firmament121 from another, — which lies between those magnificent and mighty clusters, that, as the telescope" is improved, rise upon the field" of vision, troop behind troop, emerging forever out of the fathomless depths of space!

8. Verily, we are ready to exclaim, with the Psalmist," " O Lord God Almighty, marvellous are thy Works, and that118 my soul knoweth right well, — marvellous are thy works, and in wisdom and in power hast thou made them all." And, were it not that we have the assurance that they are made in goodness as well as in wisdom and power, we should almost fear lest we should be overlooked and forgotten amid this endless wilderness of worlds; often we should take up that other cry of the Psalmist,60— "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man,

* that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man, that thou visitest him!"

Part Second.

1. And yet, after all, it is man, it is mind, it is intelligent spirit,"' that gives to this grand theatre" of the material universe all its substantial us* and worth, all its reiil glory! Without men and angels, without Mind to appreciate and enjoy it, to honor and glorify its Author, it would be like a splendid and costly panorama" without spectators.

2. It would be as if one should compose and have performed a magnificent orato'rio7-' without an audience! And this brings us to the argument for the endless life of the soul, the immortality of Mind, which seems necessarily and logically to grow out of the infinitude of the material universe.

3. Hor what is this display of worlds and suns, of galaxies" tad constellations'- and clusters, without number and without end, if the soul, so colossal" in its powers, so fitted to explore appreciate, and enjoy these wonders, and through which, only these aud all else can glorify God, — if this is to perish at death ana be no more forever?

4 Why is so glorious a work set out before it, and ability and energy given to perform it, but the time alone denied? Foi surely the present life, compared with the extent of the universe, is as a cipher to infinity. The mind has opportunity only to try its powers, to realize what it can do if time be given, and then it is crushed out, according to the gospel" of unbelief, leaving the glorious work it could do all unfinished,—yea," scarcely I

Let us look at this.: let us consider how much one can do toward a thorough acquaintance with our little planet, the earth, within the space of time allotted to the ordinary life of man How much is it possible for us to accomplish in studying the surface of our globe,— its mountains, seas, rivers, plains, deserts, forests, and mines; its countless forms of animal and vegetable life, — beasts and birds,— fishes, reptiles, and insects, — plants flowers, and fruits, — nations, languages, customs, modes of life, — history, science, and art, — and so through the encyclopedia" of all knowledge possible to man in his present estate,131 — how much of this grand survey,83 in its endless details, is it possible for us to accomplish in a single lifetime?

6. Extend now this study and survey to the myriad millions of worlds and systems which we have glanced at in passing, and the myriad millions more, invisible, plunging through the fathomless profound of space. What time will be needful to this great work,—what time to behold, examine," and enjoy the nameless and numberless exhibitions of the Divine power, and wisdom, and goodness, spread out on this broad and magnificent theatre of the universe, — what time to become familiar with the order and arrangements, the harmonies and beauties, the life and history, of each one of these glittering orbs ?132

7. What time, but that which shall parallel this endless procession of suns and constellations? What life, but an unending one, will be long enough to look upon all the glorious wonders of Creative Power; and lift the veil from the beautiful mysteries which burn along the infinite abysses, and invite the gaze of the exulting astronomer, only to show him that they lie beyond the reach of all human efforts!

8. Is there not here, then, a presumptive proof of the endless life of the soul ?128 Has not God himself furnished us here an illustration of the great revelation of the gospel, that we live forever? Is He not consistent Are not all his works in ha&

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