him. There is a want of that fulness of intellectual power which they would be glad to feel.

Would it be different, if their belief were inherent in their nature, and a product of their own minds? That would not make the offence greater; because the clearness of conviction would be more untroubled. Perhaps those points are most powerfully contended for, of which there is not external evidence; and which it is yet felt would be the plucking away of key-stones and corner-stones: that the whole cause is at stake in them, and the means of defence uncertain or inadequate. Now, this disposition of the man to identify himself with his abstract belief shews the innate conviction we have of our deep and entire dependence on reason. But a man, who feels that his intellectual beliefs hold together in some way he does not understand, as when they are adopted, and not children of his own, will be much more easily frightened, than he who feels that his beliefs have their foundation in his moral nature; and, therefore, that they do not hang upon one another; and that if one were disproved, it would only shew that that one had not been sufficiently examined, and would leave all the others just where they were, unimpaired and unshaken.

Finally, Antipathies are strong in those buried in the present. All extended views of human life are in some degree generalized and philosophical; and philosophical intellect takes off hatred, by shewing the causes out of which that which is evil arises. In the highest degree, it makes crimes appear the misfortune of the criminal. Besides, it weakens them, by disconnecting the fact hated from the entire person. Ima

gination and untutored feeling blend together the whole individual, and extend one ground of hatred throughout him. Philosophy, and every thing tending to it, cuts off and limits the hatred to the precise ground of hate; not morally, but directly, by shewing to intellect the exact limits. Farther, those buried in the present have lower views, those looking far before and after have higher views, of themselves. To those immersed in the present, the feeling that is upon them at the moment has a disproportioned apparent magnitude to their whole being. They are not able to perceive that they possess actually a great capacity of enjoyment, or suffering, or existence, beyond this immediate sensation; and, therefore, be it of pleasure or pain, love or aversion, it occupies them more entirely, and has a far more determining power upon their actions, than if, lifted above the present, they saw themselves in the past and the future, and could, by that deeper and higher understanding of their own constitution, diminish to themselves the force of this joy, or this pain, over their will.

TO DEATH.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GLÜCK.

I.

METHINKS it were no pain to die
On such an eve, when such a sky
O'ercanopies the west;

To gaze my fill on yon calm deep,
And, like an infant, fall asleep

On earth my mother's breast.

II.

There's peace and welcome in yon sea Of endless blue tranquillity.

These clouds are living things;

I trace their veins of liquid gold,—

I see them solemnly unfold

Their soft and fleecy wings.

III.

These be the angels that convey

Us weary children of a day,

Life's tedious nothing o'er,

Where neither passions come, nor woes,

To vex the genius of repose

On Death's majestic shore.

IV.

No darkness there divides the sway With startling dawn and dazzling day; But gloriously serene

Are the interminable plains ;

-

One fixed eternal sunset reigns
O'er the wide silent scene.

V.

I cannot doff all human fear,—
I know thy greeting is severe
To this poor shell of clay;

Yet come, O Death! thy freezing kiss
Emancipates! thy rest is bliss!

I would I were away.

GLASGOW REVISITED.

BY AN OLD INDIAN.

At last, my dear, I address you from our native soil. We made the Clyde on the 15th, and I have now spent three days in this city, where chiefly I was educated, -and where I had once many, and have still some, friends.

My health is, I think, completely re-established. Indeed I never was better in my life than during the greater part of this voyage. I had not been three weeks at sea ere I began to have some difficulty in believing that I ever had been so very ill as (notwithstanding) I certainly must have been when we parted. Inter alia, I have got a totally new suit of skin on my face in the course of my voyage, and I flatter myself that it is by no means a very yellow one-though I confess some of my old acquaintances here have not hesitated to hint something to that effect: but homebred people, Major, will always have their prejudices.

And how do you feel in breathing once more this native air of yours? What impression does the whole affair make upon your senses? Hills, vales, rivers, towns, population-how do they strike your fancy after twenty years' absence? I know the questions you would put to me quite as well as if I had

you

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