Venus, the Diana, the Laocoon, the Niobe, of ancient sculpture, are equally marked by their own peculiar traits.

"Gothic sculpture, on the other hand, arrays the human form in massive panoply, or in full and concealing drapery; it presents the forms of warriors in complete armor, of mitred abbots or sceptred kings in robes of state. With peculiar magnificence it decorates the tomb with the effigies of those who have died in the faith, for on the tomb, the threshold of another world, the sculpture of Christianity delights to proclaim the triumph over death, the life eternal, and the joys of paradise. But we look in vain, among its efforts, for that exquisite finish and that complete individuality which mark the productions of the Grecian chisel." - pp. 320–322.

There are many other passages in these lectures, equally elegant; but our object has been to give only a taste of their quality.

In November, 1842, Mr. Cleveland was again compelled, by ill health, to leave his home and visit Cuba. His health was apparently benefited by the beautiful climate of that island, by his travels, and especially by a voyage from Havana to Curaçoa and Bonaire, and the return, which occupied him agreeably about six weeks. His letters to his friends during the winter are very interesting, and some of them full of wit and humor. His mind never acted with greater freedom, his pen never moved with more grace and ease, than during these, the last months of his life. His letters abound in passages of elegant and lively description, which have almost the vividness of pictures of the tropical and luxuriant scenery, in the midst of which he was living. We are obliged to pass over most of those written from Cuba that are printed in this volume; but we take from a long letter, in the form of a journal, kept on the voyage to Bonaire, a singular and striking description of the comet, whose appearance surprized the whole world at that time.

"When we had been out just one week, I was walking the deck a little after sunset, when my attention was attracted by a singular appearance in the western sky. At the first moment, my thought was, that it was a lunar rainbow, partly formed, but an instant after, I saw that there were no clouds, and that it could not be. It extended in a clear column of light, like the aurora, from the horizon to a height of about twenty degrees; yet we watched it for nearly an hour, when it disappeared, with

out observing more than this solitary column of light. It did not act like the aurora, and was not in the right part of the heavens, being in the southwest; or, as the mate expressed it, it was about 'a-beam of sunset.' It died away in the course of an hour, and I thought no more of it. The next evening, to the astonishment of all of us, there was the same bright column of light; it was higher up in the heavens, and we now perceived that it did not shoot up from the horizon, but terminated in a bright star, or ball of fire; and we concluded, that it must be a comet of greater size, in appearance at least, than any which had ever before visited our system. Sublime, indeed, did the mystery seem to us, of this fiery phantom of the night, which had thus all suddenly appeared in our firmament, unheralded by astronomical prophecies, unheard of, unexpected. How impenetrable to us is its appearance; we, a separated speck of human life, cut off from all intercourse with men, on a boundless sea! How I have longed, and now long, to break the spell, to know what it is, whence it comes, and why! even the most vague speculations, from men of intelligence, would be satisfactory to me. How I long to know what the astronomers say of it; why they did not know of its coming; whether it has ever before been seen, or whether it has been flying in its immeasurable orbit since the creation, and has only now, for the first time, reached our universe, and come to claim a fellowship with the sun and the stars! It impresses me with a feeling of awe, which is increased, perhaps, by the profound ignorance in which I must remain for the present concerning it. There, nightly, it flames in the western sky, stretching far across the heavens, in the pathway of the stars; perhaps for countless ages it has been wandering in infinite space, till it has reached a solitude where creation ceases,a desert of systems, which is beyond the reach of the most distant suns, where the rays from the solar system are wearied out and fade into darkness, before they pierce the inconceivable distance. Perhaps it has now, for the first time, arrived within the genial circle of created worlds, and is rejoicing in their brightness. Perhaps it will wander again into the unfathomable abyss, and continue to wander, till its next return shall witness the death of creation, the sun blackened in the firmament, the stars shooting madly from their spheres, the earth shrivelled and burned with fire, and the nations gathered before their Maker. I shall not be able to hear any thing about it, till I reach Havana again. Here I can only learn that it was seen two nights earlier than we observed it, which was the 4th of March. I oannot help thinking of the tumult its appearance will create among Miller's people, and the numbers it will add to his band;

of the consternation and amazement it will cause; and I could laugh outright, to fancy the wise looks of the astronomers, upon whom the comet seems fairly to have stolen a march.” — pp. 356-358.

Mr. Cleveland left Havana for New Orleans, on his way home, on the 11th of April. Here he net, by a previous arrangement, an old friend and schoolmate, Mr. Ralph Emerson, of Paris. They remained some time together in New Orleans, and embarked, on the 6th of May, in the steamboat Missouri, for St. Louis. Mr. Cleveland's disease, which had doubtless been making silent progress through the winter, now suddenly and rapidly developed itself, and, on arriving at St. Louis, May 13th, he was obliged to be carried to the hotel, which he never left. The last letter printed in this volume, dated May 3d, at New Orleans, ends with these words: "I long with unspeakable desire to get home, and feel that I shall never get well till I am at home. I shall be with you the first week in June; nearer than this, I cannot say." Alas! he died on the 12th of June, far from home; though the "prayer of his heart," that he might (6 see his wife once more, 99 was granted, in her arrival at St. Louis the day before he died. He was cheered by the presence and the more than fraternal kindness of his friend, Mr. Emerson, during his last illness. "Mr. Elliot,* too," says the writer of the memoir, "acted the part of a faithful Christian friend, and administered the consolations of religion in the spirit of true Christian love."

We conclude this brief survey of the life and writings of our friend with a part of the admirable summary of his character by Mr. Hillard.

"Mr. Cleveland's moral character was strengthened and supported by a deep-seated principle of religious faith. The religious sentiment was first awakened in his heart upon his mother's knee and in his mother's arms, and these early impressions grew with his growth and clung to him through life. Submission to the will of God in hours of trial and discipline, and gratitude for the many blessings with which his life was crowned, were constant states of mind with him. His was never a repining spirit. He never felt that he had deserved more than he had received. He was grateful for the gift of life, for the affections with which

*

A clergyman of the Unitarian denomination in St. Louis.

it was so blessed and hallowed, and for the opportunities of selfimprovement and usefulness which had been granted to him. His character had the crowning charm of humility. Upon the public services of religion he was always a regular attendant, and of late years he had been a careful and habitual student of the Bible. The triumph of his religious faith was seen in that hour when it is ever most severely tried, in the hour of death. His last moments were brightened and sustained by those consolations and supports which Christianity alone can give. He died as a Christian should die, and as a Christian only can die.

"But by more than all things else, Mr. Cleveland was distinguished by the warmth, the depth, and the constancy of his affections. To love and be beloved were strong necessities of his nature. Kindness awakened in him a lively sense of gratitude, and his sympathy was ever quick and responsive. In the gratification of the affections furnished by the society of his family and friends, he found the chief happiness of his life. In the va rious relations of son, brother, husband, and father, he was most exemplary; always affectionate, self-forgetting, and thoughtful of others. Between him and his friends there was the sunshine of perfect love and unbroken confidence. With them he knew no re

He shared with them his thoughts, his purposes, his hopes, and his fears. Towards them his countenance was never turned but with the most animating expression of kindness and affection. In their society his powers expanded and his nature seemed to breathe its genial atmosphere. In his looks and tones, his words of welcome and the cordial grasp of his hand, there was a persuasive power, which gave assurance to the self-distrustful and made the sensitive feel unconstrained. He was not strongly influenced by new faces or novel associations. The presence of strangers rather checked than aided the flow of his mind. Nor did he take much pleasure in large assemblies, and the pressure of well-dressed crowds. Powerful excitements were always rather oppressive to his gentle and sensitive nature. He far preferred the charm of familiar faces, and the music of familiar voices; to be surrounded by a few friends, when, without constraint, the mind may throw off whatever rises to its surface. His tastes were strongly domestic. In more than one family he was received upon the familiar footing of an inmate, before he had gathered round him a household of his own; and after that time, he found under his own roof the elements of a happy and a useful life. Day after day glided tranquilly by in literary studies, and his wearied powers sought no other refreshment than could be supplied by the society of his family and friends. It is with scenes like these that his image will ever be associated

in the hearts of his friends, with the circle that gathers round the winter fireside, with the quiet stroll in the long lingering twi light of summer, with the occupations and interests which make up the charm of the hallowed words of Family and Home.

"We feel the loss of such a man to be a severe bereavement. To his intimate friends it seems as if a portion of the daily light which fell upon their lives were taken away. As we look mournfully into his early grave, the question forces itself upon the mind, Why were such powers, attainments, affections, so soon removed from an earth which had such need of them? But this is not the mood in which this affliction should be contemplated. Gratitude for such a life should not be lost in grief for such a death. The character of a man's life is not determined till its close. The hand of death alone puts a seal upon its excellence. The capacities which we honored, and the virtues which we loved, are not extinguished, but transferred to another sphere. The day of reunion is not far distant with any of us. His life on earth may now be viewed as a complete whole, and the retrospect is animating and inspiring. With him the struggle is over and the palm is won. With him there is no fear of faltering goodness, of decaying virtue, of wandering away from the pure lights which guided his youth. He has been faithful to the end. And now that the darkness of the grave has gathered over his form, and that we are to see his face no more upon earth, a sense of gratitude should mingle with our sorrow, that we have been permitted to have such a friend and to contemplate such a life. The memory of what he was should confirm our devotion to duty, our submissiveness to trial, our constancy in labor; it should make us more pure, more kindly, more selfforgetful. We should show ourselves worthy of the affection with which he regarded us, by a more uniform devotion to those high principles which governed his life and hallowed his death." —Pp. xlvii. - li.

ART. VIII.

The Evidences of the Genuineness of the Gospels. By ANDREWS NORTON.

Vols. II. and III.

Cambridge Published by John Owen.

pp. 278, cc., and 320, lxxxiv.

1844. 8vo.

WE gave a brief account of the first volume of Mr. Norton's work at the time of its publication, in 1837.

It ap