the idle fears, and empty terrors, not of the dead, but of the living. The dark domain of death, we dread, indeed, to enter, but we ought rather to dread the ruggedness of some of the roads that lead to it; but, if they are rugged, they are short, and it is only those that are smooth, that are wearisome and long. But perhaps he summons us too soon from the feast of life. Be it so; if the exchange be not for the better, it is not his fault, but our own.— Or he summons us late; the call is a reprieve rather than a sentence; for who would wish to sit at the board, when he can no longer partake of the banquet, or to live on to pain, when he has long been dead to pleasure? Tyrants can sentence their victims to death, but how much more dreadful would be their power, could they sentence them to life? Life is the gaoler of the soul in this filthy prison, and its only deliverer is Death; what we call death, is a passport to life. True wisdom thanks Death for what he takes, and still more for what he brings. Let us, then, like sentinels, be ready, because we are uncertain, and calm, because we are prepared. There is nothing formidable about death, but the consequences of it, and these, we ourselves can regulate and control. The shortest life is long enough, if it lead to a better, and the longest life is too short, if it do not."

"And what is death? Death has been styled the king of terrors. But to whom? To none, surely, except the wicked and superstitious. To the disciples of enlightened piety,—the followers after righteousness and truth,' death is really the highest happiness.

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"Man dives in death, in brighter worlds to rise;
The grave's the subterranean road to bliss.'

"But what is death? Death is an exemption from the toils, the perplexities, the various ills, that flesh is heir to. It is the enlargement of the soul from the narrow limits of mortality; from the oppressive restraints of an existence circumscribing its enjoyments, its observation, and intelligence, to the bounded confines of a single locality, a mere point. Death is the affranchisement of the soul from this straitened state of inadequate enjoy

ment, to the glorious freedom of the Sons of God; with, probably, the freedom of ranging where it wills, throughout the boundless field of creation; of visiting, pursuant to its own desire, every portion of that illimited expanse ; and of enjoying the ineffable delight of unconfined observation and knowledge.

"While connected to the body, with no other avenues of intelligence than the corporeal senses, the soul, in the exercise of its powers, is much restricted. The body, composed of material matter, and hence subject to the attracting influence of gravitation, naturally preponderates, in common with every other affianced substance, to its maternal earth; and, by no possible effort, can be disengaged from this connexion. The soul, therefore, inseparably conjoined to its material tenement, participates in this restriction, and, except some indistinct perceptions of the adjacent heavens, in its views of exterior Nature, is confined, entirely, to terrestrial objects. And even of these objects, of this world's garniture and occupants, there are, doubtless, many things existing, whereof, from the destitution of organs to apprehend them, we are utterly ignorant. Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, unseen.'

"Pent up within its opaque abode, with only five, small, imperfect openings, through which to look upon surrounding Nature, and many of these objects, indubitably, from their minuteness, or immaterial nature, being uncognizable by our bodily organs, the soul, in this almost entombed state, looking abroad only through a medium so contracted and imperfect as the corporeal senses, and upon objects subtile beyond sensorial perception, must necessarily remain totally unapprised of numerous existences, even in immediate proximity to our own persons.

"But what is death? Death is the breaking down of this intervening partition between the soul and undiscovered existences; imparting to that spark, immortal, the unrestrained exercise of its perceptive powers; it is the disengagement of intellectual light from material darkness; it is that benign agency, whereby the soul, as the butterfly from the chrysalis, is set at large, to roam, observe, re

6

joice, in the plenitude of its newborn being. This, when the good man yields his breath, for the good man never dies,' is, under the Adorable Supreme, the work of Death."

7. Repentance.-Hypocrisy, presumptuousness.-Repentance is such a sorrow for doing wrong, as will lead us to repair it, as far as it is in our power, and to avoid all occasions for it in future. Hypocrisy is of various kinds. The species here referred to, is that sort of repentance, which bears no fruit. The presumptuousness spoken of, is that kind which believes, or pretends to believe, that it never does wrong, and hence has no need of repent

ance.

II. Duties to Ourselves.

8. Moral Courage.-Cowardice.-The kind of courage here alluded to, is not physical, but mental courage, -courage to do right, and to endure such wrongs as are without remedy; courage to resist importunity and bad example, and to follow out what we deem right, in spite of the sneers of the foolish or wicked. The man who possesses this courage will never be a duellist. Moral cowardice is the reverse of all this. Its subject looks not to the approval of God, or of his own conscience, but to the opinions of the weaker part of his species, for the regulation of his conduct.

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9. Self-control.-Indecision.—Of all the powers of the human mind, none, surely, is more valuable, than that of self-control. "He that ruleth his spirit," saith Solomon, is better than he that taketh a city." Conquerors, who have subdued nations, have often been slaves to their appetites and passions. They overcame fleets and armies, but they could not overcome themselves. Knowledge, without the power of self-control, is utterly powerless. Paul, in his Epistle to the Romans, vii. 19, presents us with a picture of a mind in this condition. For the good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do." Ovid, in his Metamorphoses,' has a similar idea:

"Video meliora, proboque; deteriora sequor.'

"The great principle and foundation of all virtue," says Locke, "lies in this: that a man is able to deny himself his own desires, cross his own inclinations, and purely follow what reason directs as best, though the appetite lean the other way."

[What is the cause of the intemperance that has desolated, ay, that still continues to desolate, our land? What is it, that carries our youth forward, with irresistible force, as soon as they are fairly engaged in a career of gaming, or in any other vicious course? Feels not the drunkard the headache, that "nails him to a noonday bed ?" Sees he not, in the sad examples scattered around, the certain ruin that awaits him and his family? Feels not the gamester the

66 pangs

For property stripp'd off by cruel chance?"

Yes, alas! too surely do both feel their present pain, and see their future ruin. But,

"Whosoe'er the villain takes in hand, Their joints unknit, their sinews melt apace, As lithe they grow as any willow wand,

And of their vanquished force remains no trace."

Castle of Indolence.

The efforts of the Temperance Society have been highly praiseworthy, and the results truly wonderful. Yet, after all, they have only been hacking at one of the branches of the great Tree of Vice which overshadows the land. Let their efforts be crowned with complete success, so as to render unnecessary the machinery of periodicals, agents, and pledges; and, before the lapse of another generation, the branch at which they had been hewing would begin again to throw out its shoots as vigorous as ever. It is only by the constant, unwearied use of the axe, that it can be kept within bounds. But let the Society, without withdrawing their attention from the branch they have so sorely mangled and lopped, let them now attack the root with the same spirit and force that have hitherto character

* I see and approve the better, yet follow the worse.

ized their proceedings, and should we not have reason to expect, with the blessing of God, the downfal of the whole tree? But, dropping our metaphor; is not the root of most, or of all the evils that beset mankind, a want of the habit or power of self-control? Is it not possible, by a course of training in early youth, to bestow, on all, more or less of this most important gift? Is not the great mass of the community in total ignorance as to any means of producing this effect? And could the vast amount of talents and wealth which the Temperance Society have at command be better employed, than in enlightening the community on this most important subject? Would not this be one of the surest means of rooting out intemperance? The difference between the present efforts and the one recommended, is, that, by the former, the snake is only scotched, by the latter, killed, or, at least, deprived of its power of mischief. The former have got the monster down, and, as long as the struggle is continued, he can be kept down; but let them relax, and leave him to himself, he will recover breath, rouse himself, and, sooner or later, be as mischievous as ever. The latter would pull out his fangs, and render him for ever harmless. But the main advantage of the latter lies in this that, when we have once succeeded in the introduction of a course of discipline which shall be really efficient, in establishing the supremacy of the mind over the body, it is done forever. For, notwithstanding the assertions of some grumblers, the course of mankind is still upward. Any essential improvement in education, now that literature is so universally diffused, can never be lost, can never be abandoned, except for a better. We may fly from one extreme to another; from an excess of severity to an excess of laxity, and vice versa. But we shall move to and fro, only because both are wrong. Once place us right, and there we shall stay.

"The great purpose of all good education and discipline," says Dr. Channing, "is to make a man master of himself, to excite him to act from a principle in his own mind, to lead him to propose his own perfection, as his supreme law and end." Blessed will be the day which