These I remember, these selectest men, COMMUNINGS WITH NATURE. Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me By hand of art, where nature sowed herself, And reaped her crops; whose garments were the clouds; Whose banquets morning dews; whose heroes storms; Whose palaces the everlasting hills; Whose ceiling heaven's unfathomable blue; Prospect immense spread out on all sides round, The lonely bard enjoyed when forth he walked, And sought-sought neither heaven nor earth-sought nought, Of visionary things, fairer than aught That was; and saw the distant tops of thoughts, Greater than aught that largest worlds could hold, He entered into Nature's holy place, But by the lips of after-ages formed To words, or by their pencil pictured forth; And heard unspeakable and marvellous things, Which other ages in their turn revealed, NATURE'S TEACHINGS. The Seasons came and went, and went and came, With arm in arm the forest rose on high, The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the breeze, Attun'd the heart to melody and love. Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept In dreams and visions, sleep instructed much. Day utter'd speech to day, and night to night Taught knowledge. Silence had a tongue; the grave, The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each A tongue, that ever said, Man! think of God! Think of thyself! think of eternity! Fear God, the thunders said; Fear God, the waves. Fear God, the lightning of the storm replied. LOVE. Hail love, first love, thou word that sums all bliss! The silken down of happiness complete! All rarest odors, all divinest sounds, All thoughts, all feelings dearest to the soul; The heart with all superlatives of bliss. But who would that expound, which words transcends, Must talk in vain. Behold a meeting scene Of early love, and thence infer its worth. It was an eve of autumn's holiest mood. The corn-fields, bathed in Cynthia's silver light, Its Maker. Now and then the aged leaf Such was the night, so lovely, still, serene, That circle nightly round the eternal throne O had her lover seen her thus alone, To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneeled, Seemed fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought! That she was flesh and blood formed for himself, The plighted partner of his future life. And as they met, embraced, and sat embowered And God, approving, blessed the holy joy! JONATHAN DYMOND, 1796-1828. JONATHAN DYMOND,' the celebrated author of the "Essays on Morality," was born in Exeter, in 1796. His father, who was a member of the Society of Friends, was a linen-draper of that city, and brought up his son to the same business. Of course, he did not receive what is called a "liberal education;" but he possessed that without which a liberal education is worse than useless; for the sound moral and religious principles which were carefully inculcated by his parents at home laid the foundation of that high and stern standard of morality which has placed him at the very head of English moralists. On leaving school, he found employment in his father's business, in which he afterwards became a partner, and in which he continued until the close of his life. He early evinced a disposition for quiet reflection, and in his conversation, for which he had a great talent, he manifested just and enlightened views of the progress of mankind, and that freedom of thought which enabled him to go forth in search of truth, There are very few materials for writing a biography of Dymond, and I am indebted for this chiefly to an article in the " Non-Slaveholder," written by its editor, Samuel Rhoads, from materials collected by him from the family when he was in England. to disregard the opinions of his contemporaries, and of those who had gone before him, and to bring his strong intellect and his very sensitive and enlightened conscience, unfettered, to the investigation of the Divine Will in the government of the world. In 1822, he married Anna Wilkey, a Friend, of Plymouth, who survived him nearly twenty-one years; their family consisted of a daughter and a son, the latter of whom died at the age of seven years. In 1823, he published his "Enquiry into the Accordancy of War with the Principles of Christianity," a work composed in the momentary intervals of business, and in his early morning hours-time rescued from sleep by his habit of early rising. This work, from the energy and earnestness of its style, and from its high standard of Christian morals, immediately attracted very great attention, and soon ran through three editions. Of course, it met with censure from those who deem human butchery professionally right; but it was the means of opening the eyes of many to the atrocities of war, and of raising up many supporters to the cause of peace. During the time occupied in publishing the "Enquiry," he was frequently engaged in laying the foundation of his other work-that on which his fame chiefly rests his "Essays on the Principles of Morality." This, he hoped, would prove even more extensively useful than his first work, and he soon devoted himself fully to it-a work that was to exhibit the only true and authoritative standard of rectitude, and to estimate, by that standard, the moral character of human actions. He was never of a strong constitution; and, early in the spring of 1826, appeared the first symptoms of that disease which, in two years, was to send him to his grave. A frequent cough and great weakness of the throat gradually increased upon him, and he was soon compelled to give up conversation altogether, and to express his ideas by writing on a little slate which he carried in his pocket. This continued to be his only means of conversation until the close of his life. As recommended by his friends, he went to London to consult some eminent physicians there; but all to no purpose. His disorder-pulmonary consumption-continued to make rapid advances, and after trying two or three different situations in the country in hopes of benefit, he returned to his native place, where he remained still employed, as his small remaining strength would permit, in preparing for the publication of his "Essays;" and he might be seen surrounded by his papers until a few days before his death, which took place on the 6th of May, 1828. Throughout his lingering illness, he evinced a perfect resignation to the will of God, and a full confidence in his promises, and manifested on his death-bed his deep conviction of that great truth with which he has concluded his "Essays"-that "the true and safe foundation of our hope is in the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." 1 A well-merited tribute to his character appeared, some years ago, in "Tait's Magazine," in the following lines, entitled" DYMOND'S GRAVE. "Standing by Exeter's Cathedral tower, My thoughts went back to that small grassy mound |