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oppo'nents. Other people are satisfied too, and think no more of the error they were once disposed to censure. “0, he acted according to his conscience; there is no more to be said.”

5. Now, this would be all very well if conscience were one uniform prompter of good, and preventive of bad, in the breasts of all men. But conscience is a quality which every man possesses only in a certain extent, in proportion as he may have been originally gifted with it, and as he may have cultivated it through life. An individual may have a conscience so very small, or so very dull, that it forms no obstacle to the worst indulgences : he may be so very stupid, in regard to all speculative questions, that the conscience he thinks he acts upon is only a blind supposition of the truth.

6. In these cases conscience is no excuse. The most flagitious criminal might make it a plea for arrest of judgment; the most unenlightened of human beings might sit down upon it in selfsatisfied ignorance; the bigot might adopt it as a sanction for a war against his species. Nine-tenths of all the worst mischief, negative and positive, that ever afflicted the world, is traceable to conscience. The duty of man is to improve those faculties which enable him to think and act correctly. He must make his conscience a good conscience, and then, but then only, will he be entitled to honor in acting upon it. .

.7. Akin to this error is one which makes meaning well an excuse for everything. Nay, some not only excuse all kinds of follies and mischiefs by telling themselves and others that they mean well, but they make it a regular boast as a primary rule of conduct, and take not the least care for anything else. They will deliberately go on from day to day in a course injurious to both themselves and others, and, reposing indolently upon their good intentions, neglect all fair opportunities of advantage, all feasible natural means of accomplishing their ends, and finally, perhaps, allow the broad wheel of ruin to come over them, without making an effort to get out of the way.

8. There is also a great sect of philanthropists, who, taking no pains to ascertain the true means of promoting human happiness, and possibly prepossessed in favor of many things which are adverse to it, form, in reality, through the very respect that is paid to their well-meaning impenetrability, the greatest existing obstacles to the object they profess to have in view. Men can never be sufficiently vigilant in guarding against this easy palliation of error and prejudice; their duty is to see that they both mean well, and take the proper means for forming a sound judgment and constructing a correct rule of action CHAMBERS.


1. TRUE GLORY. — Milton.
Taey err who count it glorious to subduo
By conquest far and wide, to overrun
Large countries, and in field great battles win,
Great cities by assault ; what do these worthies
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave
Peaceable nations, neighboring or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy,
Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers,
Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice;
One is the son of Jove, I of MarseI the other ;
Till conqueror Death discover them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish vices, and deformed,
Violent or shameful death their due reward.
But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence ;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance.

Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, El your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor :
So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed,
- And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky;
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves
Where, other groves, and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he layes,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blessed kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing, in their glory move,
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes.

3. I'RUTH. - Cowper. The only amaranthineti flower on earth Is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.

But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate’ser question put
To truth itself, that deigned him no reply.
And wherefore? will not God impart His light
To them that ask it? – Freely: 't is his joy,
His glory, and his nature, to impart.
But to the proud, uncandid, insincere,
Or negligent inquirer, not a spark.
What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy,
That learning is too proud to gather up;
But which the poor and the despised of all
Seek and obtain, and often find unsought?
Tell me, and I will tell thee what is truth.

4. HARMONY OF EXPRESSION. -- Pope. But most by numbers judge a poet's song ; And smooth or rough, with them is right or wrong : In the bright MuseEi though thousand charms conspire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire ; Who haunt Parnassuget but to please their ear, Not mend their minds ; as some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These156 equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire ; While ex'pletivesEl their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line ; While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, With sure returns of still expected rhymes ; . Where'er you find “ the cooling western breeze,” In the next line it " whispers through the trees; ". If crystal streains “ with pleasing murmurs creep,” The reader 's threatened (not in vain) with “ sleep;' Then, at the last and only couplet, fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless AlexandrineEi ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know What’s roundly smooth, or languishingly slow; And praise the easy vigor of a line, Where Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join. True ease in writing comes from art, not chance; As those move easiest who have learned to dance. "T is not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seems an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. When AjaxEl strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labors, and the words move slow; Not so when swift Camilla El scours the plain, Flies o’er the unbending corn, and skims along the main

What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain?
I smile on death, if heavenward Hope remain !
But, if the warring winds of nature's strife
Be all the faithless charter of my life,
If Chance awaked (inexorable power!)
This frail and feverish being of an hour ;
Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep,
Swift as the tempest travels on the deep,
To know Delight but by her parting smile,
And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while; -
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain
This troubled pulse, and visionary brain !
Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom!
And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb !

Eternal Hope! when yonder spheres sublime
Pealed their first notes to sound the march of Time,
Thy joyous youth began – but not to fade.-
When all the sister planets have decayed,
When wrapt in fire the realms of ether glow,
And Heaven's last thunder shakes the world below,
Thou, undismayed, shalt o'er the ruins smile,
And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile .


THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; *
0, the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!

Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
"T was not her soft magic of streamlet or hill;
0, no!-- it was something more exquisite still.

'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best!
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.


• The rivers Avon and Avoca, in the county of Wicklow, Ireland.

The sacred organ's praise !

Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways

To mend the choirg'8 above.
Orpheuse could lead the savage race;
And trees uprooted left their place,

Sequaciouse of the lyre ;
But bright Cecilia Er raised the wonder higher :

When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and straight appeared,
Mistaking earth for heaven.



1.- SUFFERINGS IN THE FORESTS. On the departure of his vessels, Pizarro marched into the interior, in the hope of finding the pleasant champaign country which had been promised him by the natives. But at every step the forests seemed to grow denser and darker, and the trees towered to a height such as he had never seen, even in these fruitful regions, where nature works on so gigantic a scale. Hill continued to rise above hill, as he advanced, rolling onward, as it were, by successive waves, to join that colossal barrier of the Andes, whose frosty sides, far away above the clouds, spread out like a curtain of burnished silver, that seemed to connect the heavens with the earth.

On crossing these woody eminences, the forlorn adventurers would plunge into ravines' of frightful depth, where the exhalations of a humid soil steamed up amidst the incense of sweetscented flowers, which shone through the deep glooms in every conceivable variety of color. Birds, especially of the parrot tribe, mocked this fantastic variety of nature with tints as brilliant as those of the vegetable world. Monkeys chattered in crowds above their heads, and made grima'ces like the fiendish spirits of these solitudes; while hideous reptiles, engendered in the slimy depths of the pools, gathered round the footsteps of the wanderers.

Here was seen the gigantic boä, coiling his unwieldy folds about the trees, so as hardly to be distinguished from their trunks, till he was ready to dart upon his prey; and alligators lay basking on the borders of the streams, or, gliding under the waters, seized their incautious victim before he was aware of their approach. Many of the Spaniards perished miserably in

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