peace to my troubled heart. Well-a-day! it is not bere, nor have I heard it through the hours of this solitary day. Oh! why, when even a tone, a smile, is dear to us, why are these gentle and sinless pleasures withdrawn? There is none 'to answer, and I will trust to my dreams, for the renewal of some lost and lovely things.

6

• SEPTEMBER 20.- Hail! glittering stars of heaven! Count me the hour wherein I have not loved ye, and greeted ye in your infinite home? Calm and equal are your smiles, upon this world of time and change, and weal and weariness; and what unto you is the lifting hence of a desiring, humble eye? Or if that eye were quenched and closed, which burning light among yon lustrous crowd should therefore know dimness or diminution ? Is it not blessed always to behold ye?-thrice blessed, when lips which have smiled and been answered in kindness, or the voice which was welcome and watched-for, above all, are no longer beside us? When the past alone comes on our memory, in pleasantness, and hope, and beauty, and we ask of the brightness of the future, Where is it ?' then, with no eye save that which saw that ye were perfect, upon us, should we not read a consolation in your quiet glory? - a promise in your pure and endless reign ?

Oh, it is bitter to behold our first, first dream depart! It is bitter to shut the heart against such feelings as have been cherished fondly and irreproachably within us. Yet when did the midnight prayer, the morning hope, the hourly incense of the soul, avail, that we should dare to breathe them on an earthly shrine ? What brow that was our earliest pride, or music that fell soft amid our deepest care, hath not been hidden and hushed untimely? What hand that hath clasped our own, or affection whereunto we would have turned, and trusted ever, becomes not powerless, fruitless, in our time of need.? Why then do we shrink and weep, when the trial is upon us ? Why do we sit us down in sorrow and silence, to see the

present with its countless spells go by ? Ay, and why, with the fast flowing tears yet undried upon our cheek, and the weight still unlightened at our heart, do we turn ere long to the ruin of our fallen images, and search, though we deny it to ourselves, search dimly but trustingly, for the spark that beguiled and mocked us ?

Oh, thoughts of death! ye are all too cold for Beauty in her conquering hour, and Childhood's dawning blessedness, and Youth with its unmeasured hope! It were dark indeed to remember, while ye glitter, and blossom, and ripen in our very presence, that the end of all is dust. Wherefore, peace to the soft-binding links of earth! Unchecked be the glad fountains of human tenderness, unclosed the lip and eye of human mirth. Though we should go no more abroad, 'rejoicing in the joy of beautiful and well-created things ;' though the spring time and summer may have lost for us their fair and free delight, and we turn us from glad music and gay sayings, remembering the days that were, come we still among them all with a cheerful bearing, and dispute not here the lustre of any earth-born spell. To the spirit whose light hath been shaded by departing wings, there yet returneth an hour of freshness, and triumph, and joy — the silent hour of dreams! Lost faces beside us! - low utterings and blessings

about us and with us!
the sweet and idle visions of the night..
life! toiling, infirm, unruly, passing, precious life!.

as willingly we yield' our cheated soul unto

'Most rich,, being poor,

Most choice,, forsaken :'

• Life!

Behold how the mightiest cherish, the lowliest worship, thee! Thou art stricken from eyes we adored, from bosoms that warmed to us, and we utter the knell of a bereft and desolate spirit; we cling to the silent and passionless dust, as though our own dark hour should not utterly and surely come! As though not for our lingering feet, and our lonely pilgrimage, were spread the cold valley of shadows!'

VARIETY, with more of observation, and new impulses,, will add to the interest of the consecutive records of the diary. They will be continued in an early number.

LOVE, DEATH, AND TIME..

'THOU art a stern, remorseless foe!'

Said Love to the shadowy angel of Death; 'How oft in the guileless youthful breast

I build me a lovely and tranquil nest,

And thou, grim Death, with destroying breath,
Outspreadest thy greedy arms, and away
Thou bearest thy unresisting prey!'

'Idly thou ravest, poor silly Love!

I do but forestall my brother Time;

In pity I steal those victims away,

Unscathed by sorrow, untouched by crime,
Ere yet they mourn thy merciless sway,
And on thy slippery margins play,
Or over thy treacherous quicksands stray.'

'Thou wouldst have thy votaries linger here,
To grieve over vain delusive dreams;
To shed, in silence, the soul-wrung tear,
And in their heart's lone deep recess,
To feel life's utter nothingness;

Thou would'st linger, till relentless Time

Hath threadbare worn each winning grace,

And from thy helpless victim's brow

Hath swept away each youthful trace.

Then chide me not, that oft I break

The heavy, clanking chains of earth,
And spread my wings, and bear away
To heaven my unresisting prey.'

Love knew, alas! all pleas were vain;
He dashed aside the falling tear,
But Time flew by on restless wing,
And whispered in the urchin's ear,
'Smooth that fair brow, poor drooping thing!
Cast far away each harrowing fear,

Thou from thy rosy mantle fling
The dust and stains which ever cling
To pilgrims on this grovelling earth;
Thou art eternal, and shalt spring
Upward, on thy immortal wing,

Claiming thy pure celestial birth,
On the fair shores of God's own river,
Where Time and Death shall reach thee never!

1

a

The seeds of virtue have been sown, by a good providence, in all hearts, and they spring up every where to his glory. It is not wholly the result of learning and cultivation, and it is not only in civilized countries, and refined communities, that the lovely flowers of an exalted morality shed their perfume. In the forest, the Indian practices, and is in a measure acquainted with, its principles. The negro woman who sang her song of condolence to Mungo Park, 'The white man sat himself beneath our tree; he has no wife to grind his corn, nor mother to fetch him milk;' could not be the only one of her tribe with a heart open to the feelings of humanity.

The principles of morality, like the principles of all sciences, exist in nature; and it is by observation and study that we acquire a knowledge of one as of the other. Though the passions constantly oppose the exercise of the virtues, yet our true interest we discover to be on the side of the latter. Under the mists of passion and ignorance, we are liable to err; yet reflection and observation, by making us better acquainted with the principles of morals, enable us to avoid those errors, as a better knowledge ensues. It is by thus observing the actions of men, and the consequences of them, that, in every age of the world philosophers have existed, who have taught the most beautiful morality, more or less, however, tinged with error. Thus

was

:

'Socrates for god-like virtue famed,

And wisest of the sons of men proclaimed.' The fragments of the writings and sayings of these sages, have left us a rich but too scanty store of ancient wisdom.

An eminent poet has the following beautiful sentiment : 'It is the duty of every good man, even in the moment of his destruction, not merely to forgive, but to seek and desire to serve and benefit, his destroyer; as the sandal tree, in the instant of its overthrow, sheds a sweet perfume upon the axe which fells it.' To the same effect is the following of Aristippus: 'It discovers peculiar excellence in a man, to bear good-will even toward those from whom he bas received insults.' The maxims of Confucius, the proverbs of Solomon, and the precepts and reflections of many others, convince us that the principles of morals have always been the same, or nearly so.

It would appear doubtful whether this science has been improved by the progress of civilization, equally with the physical sciences. It is evident that the sciences of mechanics, hydraulics, and optics, are better understood, and their principles acted upon with more precision and certainty, than the science of morals. How this has happened, deserves inquiry.

The constant and glorious exhibition of the works of nature, and their adaptations, conveys to the minds of all beholders the idea of a skill which contrived, and a power which constructed them. Thus we find in every age, and in all countries, a belief in a Supreme

a

6

a

Being; and dull indeed must that people be, whose observation and reflection have not led to such a conclusion.

• The Great Spirit,' says an Indian, in his talk to the President, a few years ago, 'the Great Spirit has, ever since the world was made, and the grass grew, laid his book open to all men, of whatever color they may have been ; and this book tells the truth to all, and deceives no man.' To the same effect is a forcible writer of modern times, whom I beg leave to quote : • The creation speaketh a universal language, independently of human speech or human language, multiplied and various as they are. It is an ever-existing original, which every man can read. It cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited; it cannot be suppressed. It does not depend on the will of man, whether it shall be published or not; it publishes itself from one end of the world to the other, and preaches to all nations, and to all worlds.'

The early religion of the world would naturally consist of a reverence for the divine Creator, perceived in his works; and an obser. vance of the first principles of morals, growing out of an observation of the relations existing among mankind. The necessities which each felt for the others' assistance, combined with a feeling of benevolence, would prompt to the performance of the most generous deeds, and the most steady kindness. This pure religion would also be more or less infringed upon by the passions and mistakes of the unreflecting, and thus disorder and vice would more or less mingle with the affairs of men. For it would appear that the Creator has chosen, rather than create his world without ills, to supply abundant remedies for them; perhaps in order to heighten our pleasures, by a contrast with pain, and to identify virtue, by a contrast with vice. He has placed in the human breast violent passions, and he has blown forth, under the canopy of the sky, storms and tempests. He has also caused the gentle rain to descend from the sweet heavens, and lhe gentler tear from the eye of sensibility; and I am led to believe that his goodness and kindness have prompted them all.

Benevolence appears to have been the moving motive in the Creator in bringing man and all other sentient animals into being. It was in order to diffuse happiness and joy. And if he has not made man absolutely happy, he has abundantly placed happiness within his reach, and made progress in improvement one of his greatest pleasures. He has scattered his rich gifts every where, not only adapting them to our bodily sensibilities, but to our mental perceptions.

"Not content
With every food of life to nourish man,
By kind illusions of the wond'ring sense,
He makes all nature beauty to his eye,
And music to his ear.'

It was no doubt by observing this goodness in the creation, with the gratitude which it must naturally inspire, that the religion of the Golden Age, before it was corrupted by the inventions of the poet, or the interest of the priest, was a pure and holy religion; a religion like that of Jesus, consisting mainly of benevolence; a benevolence, too, not confined to their friends only, but extending to those who

17

VOL. XII.

might strive to do them ill, and which led them to compassionate most of all the heart agitated by hateful passions. The man imbued with this religion, though he might act on the defensive, could never be an agressor. Akin to the sentiment of Aristippus, already quoted, is the following precept of Jesus : ‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, and do good to them that despitefully use and persecute you.

Man being so constituted that he cannot choose but seek happiness, as the great end and acquirement of his pursuit, he casts his attention in every direction in order to arrive at and secure this treasure. And, if he be not diverted to follow delusions, with the hope of attaining his much-desired object, he soon discovers that he cannot be happy without virtue. The only difference discoverable between happiness and pleasure is, that happiness is continued pleasure, and pleasure a short happiness.

• Virtue is to man,' says St. Pierre, the true law of nature. It is the harmony of all harmonies. Virtue alone can render love sublime, and ambition beneficent. It can derive the purest gratifications even from privations the most severe. Rob it of love, friendship, honor, the sun, the elements, it feels that under the administration of a Being just and good, abundant compensation is reserved for it, and it acquires an increased confidence in God, even from the cruelty and injustice of man. It was virtue which supported, in every situation of life, a Socrates, an Epicetus, a Fenelon ; that rendered them at once the happiest and most respectable of mankind.'

From the imperfection of both the bodily and mental constitution of man, it follows that he cannot be uninterruptedly happy. From the varieties, also, in the ideas which men entertain of this their chief good, as well as their different capabilities and situations, a greater chance exists of their being happy, as well as the various characters, offices, occupations, and geniuses, being supplied, which are so necessary

in the social state. The ideas which we entertain of our interest, which is conceded to be the great lever that moves the world, resolve themselves into the notions we have of happiness. And when we have become so far deluded as to suppose that our happiness or interest can be promoted by that which procures misery to others, we have imbibed an error, which will infallibly secure our wretchedness. Observation and reflection will inevitably convince us of this truth. Poverty is the frequent, but not invariable, companion of vice. There are other worldly or physical ills more certain to accompany the vicious ; and ills of the mind and feelings, a thousand times more unendurable than external evils, which pursue the debased soul, and which the ancients fancied under the name of the Furies, whose office was to torment the guilty by the stings of conscience.

We see men living and breathing around us, and passing us every day in the street, with countenances and histories such as convince us that the wrung heart would gladly barter its wealth for a bare subsistence, if it could but undo a portion of their life's history, and which warn us to beware of their path. I could name a long list of such, who tell us, with trumpet tongue, and gorgon countenances, that the way of the vicious is not a pleasant one. The curse of dis

1