his then position, who in after years became one of that band of pilgrims whose remembrance the generations of men, through all time, shall cherish with respect and veneration. Such may have been the murmur of Franklin, as, dissatisfied with himself, he bent over his brother's form; but of whom Lord Brougham said, at a later period, "one of the most remarkable men, certainly, of our times, as a politician, or of any age, as a philosopher, was Franklin; who also stands alone in combining together these two characters, the greatest that man can sustain; and in this, that having borne the first part in enlarging science by one of the greatest discoveries ever made, he bore the second part in founding one of the greatest empires."

Though I do not anticipate that any of us will ever be Shakspeares, Pilgrims, or Franklins, yet the lesson may teach us never to despond, and certainly never to be careless concerning the kind of influence we throw around us; for our influence for good or evil, may exceed our expectations as much as theirs exceeded their expectations. We may have no visible ascendency over the mass, or the multitudes continually passing by us; but we know that we have, in some degree, a controlling or guiding power over the personal friends and acquaintances who surround

us; and to exert that power aright, may well call into action our highest, noblest energies. To have led one mind to pursue a good path, to have roused one mind to ennobling thought and honorable action, that would otherwise have followed a sluggishly inactive course in regard to moral, mental or physical abilities, is cause for lasting joy. To have caused, either through design or carelessness, one person to follow a wrong course; to have prevented one, either by the silent, though not unfelt influence of our actions, or by persuasion, from employing profitably those faculties wherewith the Creator has endowed him, is cause for lasting sorrow.

THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR.

ANOTHER year has gone by, and been added to the chronicles of time. Who can contemplate the events of the past twelve months without benefit without feeling that his time, in very many instances, might have been spent to much greater profit to himself and the world? As we look back to its commencement, so short seems the time that has elapsed, that all its events appear but as a vision. The seasons themselves have glided away almost imperceptibly. Spring, with its first opening buds and the lively carol of birds, the beautiful new green verdure, that was wont to greet our eyes as we wandered forth to inhale the sweetness of the fresh air, is gone; and yet it seems but as a moment since it was here in all its beauty. Summer too, with all its loveliness, has departed. No more the sweet scent of its bright flowers, the gorgeous scenery of its landscapes, glowing in the light of a brilliant sun, the refreshing coolness of its "breezy eves," with their softened lights and shades, and the merry parties of pleasure gayly gliding upon some gently flowing stream, to the

sound of sweet music, charm our senses; but all are gone, "the last rose of summer" has faded. Yet we know not but ample compensation for these lost treasures was found in the delights of autumn, when the earth yielded up its fruits to increase the store of the happy, provident husbandman, for many scenes of joy and pleasure did it bring to pass; and the gayeties of harvest time may well compare with those of any other season. It has also its natural beauties. What more beautiful than the countless dyes of autumn foliage? If nature throws off her bright green, it is that she may assume a richer, and a mellower color. Then, too, the Indiaan summer, what can exceed its delights? What more beautiful than its clear blue sky, or the gorgeousness of its sunset-splendid accompaniments of the splendid drapery of earth? The close of the year leads the contemplative mind into those musings which visit it at no other period; melancholy, perhaps, yet pleasing, and inspiring the mind with those sentiments that had scarcely been entertained by it during the preceding year. Musings of the past! what a boundless field is the past for reflection! The more the mind dwells upon it, the farther is it led. From the contemplation of events relating to ourselves, we are led from the past year to preceding years, and other persons.

Then it is we look upon the scenes of our younger days. The laugh and merry cry of those with whom we sat side by side at school, and with whom we oft chased the gay butterfly from flower to flower, roamed to pluck the first tender blossoms of sweet May, or the first fruits of summer, again dwell on our ears; but, alas! the heart echoes not to it, for the graver scenes of intervening years make us sad. We turn to trace the paths of those with whom we thus sported. Where are those once dear friends now? is the involuntary question. Who can tell?

How few of those once familiar faces do

we now see! New forms greet our eyes, and take the hand with apparent friendship, but few with whom we can sympathize, as we did with those friends of our earliest days. How differently do the different periods of life, youth, manhood, and old age, view the close of the year! To the youth just beginning to pour forth the treasures of his mind, another year past and gone seems but another barrier overcome that separated him from the glorious struggles of manhood, but which still reminds him that there are others yet remaining, and warns him to prepare to meet them; bright visions float across his mind, which, when manhood approaches, are found to be but delusive phantoms.