solation was to be sought of God, it was with demonstrations such that every one could see that here was no pageant. There was an unambiguous expression of the almost uncontrollable grief that agitated the bosoms of many, and of the true sorrow that weighed down the hearts of all. Here was no party, pursuing its own ends by a hollow magnifying of the merits of a departed champion. Here was not even a community repeating over the dead their sense of the worth to them, in life, of one whom they had elevated with their joint trust of public office. But men, without understanding with one another, came from their own separate houses to render the last testimonies of respect to their own friend; and the whole thronged assembly was an assembly of true mourners. Happy the community, where God employs such servants! Happy the community, which is so just to their worth!

I cannot help repeating the remark, how peculiar is the instance, in which not the pride, not the passions, not even the just interests of a community, as such, but their good feelings, their sense of excellence, and love of it, are found, without concert, to have bound them in so strong a sympathy. And, honorable as the tribute is to them who have paid, as well as to him who was the object of it, the good feeling of the community has in no degree outstripped its justice. I have not the heart to praise the eminently able

and good man departed. Let others more fully speak his eulogy, who have cause to feel it less. In early life, he was marked for one of those noble youth, (may such long continue to be our joy and pride!) who were resolved to make their own fair fame and rising fortunes the fruit of their own toils; who were intent on winning esteem by the good method of deserving it; and on securing their happiness by making sure to be pure and useful. As he advanced, a confidence which came with all its burden of blessings to him, because he felt that it had been his aim not so much to have as to merit it, waited on and cheered his way. In the services of that walk of life, which, in important respects, provides richer satisfactions than any other for a generous spirit, his prompt, and strong, and sagacious mind was possessing opportunities to perform all its work, and "gather all its fame," and his benevolent heart was enjoying full measures of its congenial happiness. He seemed to be doing nothing here but good; and though we are now tempted to wish, that he could have consented to do it with less indifference to his own safety, the spirit of self-devotion to worthy objects is too good a thing ever to be complained of, even though it should sometimes be manifested at such melancholy cost. "Honor a physician," says the wise son of Sirach, "honor a physician with the honor due unto him, for the Lord hath provided him ;—with such doth he heal men, and take away their pains.

My son, let tears fall down over the dead, and begin to lament, as if thou hadst suffered great harm thyself; and then cover his body according to the custom, and neglect not his burial." Such affectionate honor had he in full measure, while he lived; such mournful honors, when departed. Many, many tears have fallen down over the dead ; -many have begun to lament, as if they had suffered great harm themselves.

I fathom the sorrows of numerous hearts, when the thought comes to me, that I and mine may not now look, in our extremity, for the presence of that tried friendship, and the alleviations of that consummate skill. Other enlightened and practised skill will still succor; other friendly cheerfulness sustain. But the countenance, in which we have been wont to read such grateful assurances of safety, is changed; the mind, on whose ready energy, and kind solicitude, and rich resources it has been our happy habit to place such reposing reliance, that mind is sent away. And, thinking of the griefs which spring so full at so many disconnected sources, none can wonder that, collected, they should swell, as we have seen, into a deep and impetuous stream.

He is taken away, in the full bloom of his honors and usefulness;-taken at the time when, we are tempted to say, he could least of all be spared; when God, whom, as we trust, with a true principle of love and duty he was serving, seemed to have much

for him to do; when the community, of which as a good and enlightened citizen, he was a stay as well as ornament, was giving him all his ambition desired, acknowledging what a serviceable friend it possessed in one whom the praise, which was all he heard, had done nothing to inflate, and the success, which was almost all he had experienced, had done nothing to make confident or remiss. He is gone from us. He is missed in the chambers of opulence, whither he carried that comfort which money cannot buy. The tenants of many a wretched abode are asking for him,-no longer to rise up and call him blessed, as heretofore when he has come to them a minister of other bounties besides the excellent alleviations of his art. The agency of his benevolence, and the example of his virtues, are no longer to profit us but in memory. He is gone from us;-and we call it a mystery. But we have no right to call any thing wholly a mystery, to which the revelations of Christianity relate. A good and faithful servant, we trust, is gone to be reckoned with by his Lord ;-to have his imperfections forgiven, and his good service recompensed. We lament, that that service is no longer to be expended for us. But we are confident that such a mind has not ceased from all its labors. We are persuaded that God, who trained it here, has other, has greater and happier tasks for it elsewhere. It is transferred, we encourage ourselves, to employments of useful service as much superior to those

which made its happiness here, as the rule over ten cities was a higher trust than that faithful management of the single talent, by which it was won. It is gone where it can serve God and other beings more effectually, and in a wider service to them, find more enjoyment for itself.

And, though we may well be sensible to the privation we sustain in its removal, we could not be justified in saying, that, looking even no further than this, the providence was incapable of vindication. A great lesson, which needs to be taught to all men, is that of the insecurity of life; and it needs to be taught by striking examples, for those of another character are too familiar to impress us. If there were a description of men so excellent and useful, that, on account of their usefulness, they were never taken away in their full vigor, there would then be one hurtful exception to the now universal rule, that "in the midst of life we are in death ;". hurtful to others, who would flatter themselves that they had the same ground of security, when in truth it was not so ;-hurtful to themselves, for their self-watchfulness would thus be deprived of one of its main supports, and they would be greatly exposed to abandon the very character which made their privilege. We may be assured that God values so highly the good influence of all good men, as to dispose the lot of all for the best. If, for some, he lengthens out their years of usefulness, it is, that men may have the full protracted benefit of