and desultory, that his mind had never yet been seen in all its development, or occupied the high and ample space which its natural expansion would justify it in assuming. His works are therefore rather the promise of what he more seriously meditated, and what but for his premature loss, he would not have failed to accomplish. Yet, even imperfect as they now remain, they bear honorable testimony to his genius, and will always form a valuable addition to the literature of America, they will at least attest his sincere devotion to the great cause of religion and morals, and learning, which all his writings assisted to defend and disseminate.

But his literary attainments, however distinguished, his works however honorable, were only subordinate parts of his estimable character. The most exalted powers are not always united with the kindliest tempers, and the flame of genius is too often discolored by malignity. But in his harmonious composition. the highest brilliancy of understanding was seen shaded through the most transparent purity of heart. The fondness of friendship here hesitates with distrust of its own partiality. Yet on those who have enjoyed an intimacy with departed worth, there seems to devolve with the peculiar power, a peculiar duty to declare its value.

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We will not, therefore, so far wrong ourselves, or the memory of him whom we love to honor, as to suppress the conviction that it was never our lot to know a being more emphatically pure and amiable.Far from impairing his natural goodness, the embellishments of education served only to give it a bolder relief, and a more striking contrast. With all its rich variety of ornament, its festooned columns, its Asiatic magnificence, the inner temple of the heart, was of the most chaste and Doric simplicity. There was indeed in his character, something quite new and original to our experience. It was not the simplicity of Goldsmith, nor the artlessness of Lafontaine. It was more amiable than either, it was the natural excellence of a heart occupied only with the honorable feelings

of our nature, and shrinking intuitively from all the avenues by which the sordid passions might approach him. In the midst of the world, he did not seem to live so much in it, as about it, in his own abstract and unmingled sphere of goodness. Yet he was not negligent of his duties to society. In circumstances never beyond mediocrity, he gave with a generous disre-. gard of himself to all who needed his bounty; in his least prosperous hour, he never withheld the liberal, though limited charity, and even the few to whom retaliation would have been injury, received only kindness and oblivion.

A man of letters by profession, he was totally free from literary jealousy; but, severe only to himself, and apparently unconscious of his own superiority, he gave to every one the fullest measure of applause.On his own high and scrupulous honor, his life was a practical commentary. His religious convictions were steadfast and uniform. His faith equally removed from intolerance and levity, was of that amiable cast, which renders religion the guide of prosperity, and the solace of misfortune, and on his own death. he derived from it those consolations, which his writings have so often taught they were capable of imparting. To his private virtues let those who have long known him, let that wide circle of whom he was the delight and the ornament, bear testimony. So full of urbanity and gentleness were his manners, so amiable his deportment, that none could approach without loving a man from whom there never escaped an unkind expression, who, in his graver mood, was an instructive friend; and in his social hours, a most gay, and captivating companion. However, therefore, his writings may be received by the world, or with whatever harshness its colder eye may regard the weaknesses incident to his nature, there are many who will long see with affectionate regret, the tomb which encloses a being once distinguished by all that can endear our sympathies,. or excite our admiration.

NOTICE OF PATRICK HENRY.

This gentleman was an orator of nature; from the memory of whose talents, this tribute of respect to which they are so justly entitled, should not be withheld. His general appearance and manners

were

those of a plain farmer, a planter of the back country; and in this character, he always entered on the exordium of an oration; disqualifying himself, with looks and expressions of humility, so lowly and unassuming, as threw every heart off its guard, and induced his audience to listen to him, with the same easy openness with which they would converse with an honest neighbor: but by and by, when it was little expected, he would take a flight so high, and blaze with a splendor so heavenly, as filled them with a kind of religious awe, and gave him the force and authority of a prophet. This was the manner of Ulysses; commencing with a depressed look, and hesitating voice: but it is presumed that Mr. Henry was directed to it, not by that example, of which it is very probable that at the commencement of his career, at least, he was entirely ignorant; but either that it was the genuine trembling diffidence, without which, if Cicero may be believed, a great orator never rises; or else that he was prompted to it by his own sound judgment and his intimate knowledge of the human heart. I have seen the skeletons of some of his orations. The periods, and their members, are short, quick, eager, palpitating, and are manifestly the extemporaneous effusions of a mind deeply convicted, and a heart inflamed with zeal for the propagation of those convictions. They afford, however, a very inadequate sample of his talents; the stenographer having never attempted to follow him, when he arose in the strength and awful majesty of his genius.

NOTICE OF SIR ROBERT BOYLE.

It is indeed a most agreeable relief to my mind to turn from the stately and dazzling rhapsodies of the

day, and converse with this plain and sensible old gentleman. To me his style is gratifying on many accounts; and there is this advantage in him, that instead of having three or four ideas rolled over and over again, like the fantastic evolutions and ever changing shapes of the sun embroidered cloud, you gain new materials, new information at every breath. In point of ornament he is the first grade in the mighty chasm (through the whole of which the gradations may be distinctly traced) between Bacon and Burke. He exhibits no redundancy; has about him a perfectly patriarchal simplicity, and every period is preg nant with matter. He not only investigates all the subjects which are calculated to try the clearness, the force and comprehension of the human intellect: he introduces others, also, in handling whereof, he shews the masterly powers with which he could touch the keys of the heart, and awaken all the tones of sensibility which belong to man. Surely if ever a human being deserved to be canonized for great, unclouded intelligence, and seraphic purity, and ecstacy of soul, that being was Sir Robert Boyle. When I reflect that this "pure intelligence, this link between men and angels," was a christian, and look around upon the petty infidels and deists with which the world swarms, I am lost in amazement! Have they seen arguments against religion which were not presented to Robert Boyle? His religious works shew that they have not. Are their judgments better able to weigh those arguments than his was? They have not the vanity even to believe it. Is the beam of their judgment more steady and less liable to be disturbed by passion than his? O! no ;-for in this he seems to have excelled all mankind. Are their minds more elevated and more capable of comprehending the whole of this great subject with all its connections and dependencies, than was the mind of Sir Robert? Look at the men-and the question is answered. How then does it happen that they have been conducted to a conclusion, so perfectly the reverse of his; it is for this very reason; because their judgments are less

from the influence and raised above the mists of passion; it is because their minds are less etherial and comprehensive; less capable than his was, "to look through nature up to nature's God." And let them hug their precious, barren, hopeless infidelity: they are welcome to the horrible embrace! May we, my friend, never lose the rich and nexhaustible comforts of religion.

CHARACTER OF WILLIAM PITT.

Mr. Pitt still rises with an ease, composure and assurance, indicative of former influence, while the house, conscious of his presence, are disposed to give him all that attention as a member, which he once commanded as a minister; and though he is at present, a fallen statesman, he sustains a character none the less ascendant as a man; so that his enemies are not willing to approach nigher plain Mr. Pitt, than they did the once arbiter of the kingdom.

The station which Mr. Pitt has supported so long, has given his eloquence a peculiar turn, and even rendered his character ostensibly cold, hard, and bordering on dry inhumanity. The political calculator, always in search of expedients, from habit regards mankind mechanically, and sooner or later becomes impenetrable to the first dictates of nature, and sublimely overlooks every obstacle which might impede his course. Mr. Pitt's eloquence discovers a frigid, palliating, defensive, yet positive, character. It has ever been sufficient for him to maintain his ground: not to be driven from his post has been to gain the victory. At this day, he addresses the speaker as though the conflict was still between himself and his great antagonist, Fox, while Addington is forgotten, and forgets, that he is minister.

Had Mr. Pitt labored his days in the opposition, he would have discovered himself a much greater orator, and a much nobler man. Ever on the defensive, he has naturally fallen into a confined uniformity, which