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A Grecian Temple rising from the Deep.”

To be repeated thence, but gently sank

Suffice it, therefore, if the rural Muse

Through crystal water, smoothly as a Hawk,
That, disentangled from the shady boughs
Of some thick wood, her place of covert, cleaves
With correspondent wings the abyss of air.
—e Observe,” the Vicar said, “yon rocky Isle
with birch-trees fringed; my hand shall guide the helm,
While thitherward we bend our course; or while
We seek that other, on the western shore,
Where the bare columns of those lofty firs,
Supporting gracefully a massy Dome
Of sombre foliage, seem to imitate

* Turn where we may.” said I, “we cannot err | In this delicious Region.”—Cultured slopes, Wild tracts of forest-ground, and scattered groves, And mountains bare—or clothed with ancient woods, Surrounded us; and, as we held our way Along the level of the glassy flood, They ceased not to surround us; change of place, From kindred features diversely combined, Producing change of beauty ever new. –Ah! that such beauty, varying in the light of living nature, cannot be pourtrayed By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill; But is the property of him alone Who hath beheld it, noted it with care, And in his mind recorded it with love!

Wouchsafe sweet influence, while her Poet speaks
of trivial occupations well devised,
And unsought pleasures springing up by chance; |
As if some friendly Genius had ordained
That, as the day thus far had been enriched
By acquisition of sincere delight, -
The same should be continued to its close.
One spirit animating old and young,
A gypsy fire we kindled on the shore
Of the fair Isle with birch-trees fringed—and there,
Merrily seated in a ring, partook
The beverage drawn from China's fragrant herb.
—launched from our hands, the smooth stone skimmed
the lake; -
with shouts we roused the echoes;—stiller sounds
The lovely Girl supplied—a simple song,
Whose low tones reached not to the distant rocks
Into our hearts; and charmed the peaceful flood. |
Rapaciously we gathered flowery spoils
From land and water; Lilies of each hue – !
Golden and white, that thoat upon the waves
And court the wind; and leaves of that shy Plant,
(Her flowers were shed) the Lily of the Vale,
That loves the ground, and from the sun withholds
Her pensive beauty, from the breeze her sweets.
Such product, and such pastime did the place
And season yield; but as we re-embarked,
Leaving, in quest of other scenes, the shore
of that wild Spot, the Solitary said
In a low voice, yet careless who might lear,
• The fire, that burned so brightly to our wish,
where is it now * Deserted on the beach
It seems extinct; nor shall the fanning breeze
Revive its ashes. What care we for this,

Whose ends are gained? Behold an emblem here
Of one day's pleasure, and all mortal joys!
And, in this unpremeditated slight
Of that which is no longer needed, see
The common course of human gratitude 'o'

This plaintive note disturbed not the repose
Of the still evening. Itight across the Lake
Our pinnace moves: then, coasting creek and bay,
Glades we behold—and into thickets peep—
Where couch the spotted deer; or raised our eyes
To shaggy steeps on which the careless goat
Browsed by the side of dashing waterfalls.
Thus did the Bark, meandering with the shore,
Pursue her voyage, till a natural pier
Of jutting rock invited us to land.
—Alert to follow as the Pastor led,
We clomb a green hill's side; and as we clomb,
The Valley, opening out her bosom, tave
Fair prospect, intercepted less and less,
Of the flat meadows and indented coast
Of the smooth lake—in compass seen:-far off,
And yet conspicuous, stood the old Church-tower,
In majesty presiding over fields
And habitations, seemingly preserved
From the intrusion of a restless world
By rocks impassable and mountains huge.

Soft heath this elevated spot supplied, And choice of moss-clad stones, whereon we couched Or sat reclined—admiring quietly The general aspect of the scene; but each Not seldom over anxious to make known His own discoveries; or to favourite points

| Directing notice merely from a wish

To impart a joy, imperfect while unshared.
That rapturous moment ne'er shall I forget
When these particular interests were effaced
From every mind! already had the sun,
Sinking with less than ordinary state,
Attained his western bound; but rays of light
Now suddenly diverging from the orb
Retired behind the mountain tops or veiled
By the dense air—shot upwards to the crown
Of the blue firmament—aloft—and wide:
And multitudes of little floating clouds,
Ere we, who saw, of change were conscious, pierced
Through their ethereal texture, had become
Vivid as fire—clouds separately poised,
Innumerable multitude of Forms
Scattered through half the circle of the sky;
And giving back, and shedding each on each,
with prodigal communion, the bright hues
which from the unapparent Fount of glory
They had imbibed, and ceased not to receive.
That which the heavens displayed, the liquid deep
Repeated; but with unity sublime !

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on the refulgent spectacle—diffused t

Through earth, sky, water, and all visible space

The Priest in holy transport thus exclaimed

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Save by degrees and steps which Thou hast deigned
To furnish; for this effluence of Thyself,
To the infirmity of mortal sense
Vouchsafed, this local, transitory type
Of thy paternal splendours, and the pomp
Of those who fill thy courts in highest heaven,
The radiant Cherubim;-accept the thanks
Which we, thy humble Creatures, here convened,
Presume to offer; we, who from the breast
Of the frail earth, permitted to behold
The faint reflections only of thy face,
Are yet exalted, and in soul adore!
Such as they are who in thy presence stand
Unsullied, incorruptible, and drink
Imperishable majesty streamed forth
From thy empyreal Throne, the elect of Earth
Simall be—divested at the appointed hour
Of all dishonour—cleansed from mortal stain.
—Accomplish, then, their number; and conclude
Time's weary course Or, if, by thy decree
The consummation that will come by stealth
He yet far distant, let thy Word prevail,
Oh! let thy Word prevail, to take away
The sting of human nature. Spread the Law,
As it is written in thy holy Book,
Throughout all Lands: let every nation hear
The high behest, and every heart obey;
Both for the love of purity, and hope
Which it affords, to such as do thy will
And persevere in good, that they shall rise,
To have a nearer view of Thee, in heaven.
–Father of Good this prayer in bounty grant,
In mercy grant it to thy wretched Sons.
Then, nor tiil then, shall persecution cease,
And cruel Wars expire. The way is marked,
The guide appointed, and the ransom paid.
Alas ! the Nations, who of yore received
: These tidings, and in Christian Temples meet
The sacred truth to acknowledge, linger still,
Preferring bonds and darkness to a state
of holy freedom, by redeeming love
Proferred to all, while yet on earth detained.

“So fare the many; and the thoughtful few, Who in the anguish of their souls bewail This dire perverseness, cannot chuse but ask, Shall it endure?—Shall cnmity and strife, Falsehood and guile be left to sow their seed; And the kind never perish 1–Is the hope Fallacious, or shall righteousness obtain A peaceable dominion, wide as earth, And ne'er to fail Shall that blest day arrive When they, whose choice or lot it is to dwell In crowded cities, without fear shall live Studious of mutual benefit; and he, Whom morning wakes, among sweet dews and flowers Of every clime, to till the lonely field, Be happy in himself —The law of faith Working through love such conquest shall it gain, Such triumph over sin and guilt achieve 1 Almighly Lord, thy further grace impart And with that help the wonder shall be seen Fulfilled, the hope accomplished ; and thy praise Be sung with transport and unceasing joy.”

“Once,” and with mild demeanour, as he spake,

On us the Venerable Pastor turned

His beaming eye that had been raised to Heaven,
“ Once, while the Name Jehovah, was a sound,
Within the circuit of this sea-girt isle,
Unheard, the savage nations bowed the head
To Gods delighting in remorseless deeds ;
Gods which themselves had fashioned, to promote
Ill purposes, and flatter foul desires.
Then in the bosom of yon mountain cove,
To those inventions of corrupted Man
Mysterious rites were solemnized; and there,
Amid impending rocks and gloomy woods,
Of those terrific Idols, some received
Such dismal service, that the loudest voice
Of the swoln cataracts (which now are heard
Soft murmuring) was too weak to overcome.
Though aided by wild winds, the groans and shrieks
Of human Victims, offered up to appease
Or to propitiate. And if living eyes
Had visionary faculties to see
The thing that hath been as the thing that is,
Aghast we might behold this crystal Mere
Bedimmed with smoke, in wreaths voluminous,
Flung from the body of devouring fires,
To Taranis erected on the heights
By priestly hands, for sacrifice, performed
Exultingly, in view of open day
And full assemblage of a barbarous Host;
Or to Andates, Female Power! who gave
(For so they fancied) glorious Victory.
—A Few rude Monuments of mountain-stone
Survive ; all else is swept away.—How bright
The appearances of things | From such, how changed
The existing worship ; and, with those compared,
The Worshippers how innocent and blest :
So wide the difference, a willing mind,
At this affecting hour, might almost think
That Paradise, the lost abode of man,
Was raised again : and to a happy Few,
In its original beauty, here restored.
— Whence but from Thee, the true and only God,
And from the faith derived through Hin who bled
Upon the Cross, this marvellous advance
Of good from evil; as if one extreme
Were left—the other gained.—0 Ye, who come
To kneel devoutly in yon reverend Pile,
Called to such office by the peaceful sound
Of Sabbath bells ; and Ye, who sleep in earth,
All cares forgotten, round its hallowed walls!
For You, in presence of this little Band
Gathered together on the green hill-side,
Your Pastor is emboldened to prefer
Vocal thanksgivings to the Eternal King ;
Whose love, whose counsel, whose commands have made
Your very poorest rich in peace of thought
And in good works ; and Him, who is endowed
With scantiest knowledge, Master of all truth
Which the salvation of his soul requires. -
Conscious of that abundant favour showered
On you, the Children of my humble care,
And this dear Land, our country while on Earth
We sojourn, have I lifted up my soul,
Joy giving voice to fervent gratitude.
These barren rocks, your stern inheritance;
These fertile fields, that recompense your pains,
The shadowy vale, the sunny mountain top;

Woods waving in the wind their lofty heads,
or hushed; the roaring waters and the still;
They see the offering of my lifted hands—
They hear my lips present their sacrifice –
They know if I be silent morn or even :
For, though in whispers speaking, the full heart
Will find a vent; and Thought is praise to Him,
Audible praise, to Thee, Omniscient Mind,
From Whom all gifts descend, all blessings flow la

This Vesper service closed, without delay, From that exalted station to the plain Descending, we pursued our homeward course, In mute composure, o'er the shadowy lake, Beneath a faded sky. No trace remained Of those celestial splendours; grey the vault, Pure, cloudless ether; and the Star of Eve Was wanting;-but inferior Lights appeared Faintly, too faint almost for sight; and some Above the darkened hills stood boldly forth In twinkling lustre, ere the Boat attained iter mooring-place;—where, to the sheltering tree our youthful Voyagers bound fast her prow With prompt yet careful hands. This done, we paced The dewy fields; but ere the Vicar's door was reached, the Solitary checked his steps; Then, intermingling thanks, on each bestowed A farewell salutation,-and, the like Receiving, took the slender path that leads To the one Cottage in the lonely dell; But turned not without welcome Promise given, That he would share the pleasures and pursuits Of yet another summer's day, consumed In wandering with us through the Valleys fair, And o'er the Mountain-wastes. “Another sun,” Said he, a shall shine upon us, ere we part, Another sun, and peradventure more; If time, with free consent, is yours to give, And season favours.”

To enfeebled Power,

From this communion with uninjured Minds,
what renovation had been brought; and what
Degree of healing to a wounded spirit,
Dejected, and habitually disposed
To seek, in degradation of the Kind,
Excuse and solace for her own defects;
How far those erring notions were reformed;
Aud whether aught, of tendency as good
And pure, from further intercourse ensued;
This—(if delightful hopes, as heretofore,
Inspire the serious song, and gentle Hearts
Cherish, and lofty Minds approve the past)
My future Labours may not leave untold.

NOTES.

Prer Ace. Page 262, col. 1. Descend, prophetic Spirit, that inspir'st The human soul, etc.

Not mine owu fears, nor the prophetic Soul of the wide world dreaming on things to come. Saaksre, as 's Sonnets. Page 265, col. 1. — — — much did he see of Men.

At the risk of giving a shock to the prejudices of ar

tificial society, I have ever been ready to pay homage to the Aristocracy of Nature; under a conviction that vigorous human-heartedness is the constituent principle of true taste. It may still, however, be satisfactory to have prose testimony how far a Character, employed for purposes of imagination, is sounded upon general fact. I therefore subjoin an extract from an author who had opportunities of being well acquainted with a class of men, from whom my own personal knowledge emboldened me to draw this Portrait. a We learn from Caesar and other Roman Writers, that the travelling merchants who frequented Gaul and other barbarous countries, either newly conquered by the Roman arms, or bordering on the Roman conquests, were ever the first to make the inhabitants of those countries familiarly acquainted with the Roman modes of life, and to inspire them with an inclination to follow the Roman fashions, and to enjoy Roman conveniences. In North America, travelling merchants from the Setlements have done and continue to do much more towards civilizing the Indian natives, than all the Missionaries, Papist or Protestant, who have ever been sent among them. • It is farther to be observed, for the credit of this most useful class of meu, that they commonly contribute, by their personal manners, no less than by the sale of their wares, to the refinement of the people among whom they travel. Their dealings form them to great quickness of wit and acuteness of judgment. Ilaving constant occasion to recommend themselves and their goods, they acquire habits of the most obliging attention, and the most insinuating address. As in their Pe. regrinations they have opportunity of contemplating the manners of various men and various Cities, they become eminently skilled in the knowledge of the world. As they wander, each alone, through thinly-inhabited districts, they form habits of reflection and of sublime contemplation. With all these qualifications, no wonder, that they should often be, in remote parts of the country, the best mirrors of fashion, and censors of manners; and should contribute much to polish the roughness, and soften the rusticity of our peasantry. It is not more than twenty or thirty years, since a yount; man going from any part of Scotland to England, on purpose to carry the pack, was considered, as going to lead the life, and acquire the Fortune, of a Gentleman. When, after twenty years' absence, in that honourable line of employment, he returned with his acquisitions to his native country, he was regarded as a Gentleman to all intents and purposes.” Headn's Journey in Scotland, Vol. i. p. 89.

Page 2:8, col. 2.
Lost in unsearchable Eternity'

Since this paragraph was composed, I have read with so much pleasure, in Burnet's Theory of the Earth, a passage expressing correspondent sentiments, excited by objects of a similar nature, that I cannot forbear to transcribe it.

• Siquod vero Natura nobis dedit spectaculum, in hac tellure, were gratum, et philosopho dignum, id semel milli contigisse arbitror; cum excelsissima rupe sloculabundus ad oram maris Mediterranei, hinc rouor carruleum, illine tractus Alpinos prospexi : nihil quide" magis dispar aut dissimile, nec in suo genore, magis cgregium et singulare. Iloc theatrum ego facile pretulerim Romanis cunctis, Graecisve; atque id quod natura hic spectandum exhibet, scenicis ludis omnibus, aut amphitheatri certaminibus. Nihil hic elegans aut venustum, sed ingens et magnificum, et quod placet magnitudine suá et quadam specie immensitatis. Hinc intuebar maris acquabilem superficiem, usque et usque diffusam, quantum maximum oculorum acics ferri potuit; illinc disruptissimam terrae faciem, et vastas moles varie elevatas aut depressas, erectas, propendentes, reclinatas, coacervatas, omni situ inaequali et turbido. Placuit, ex hac parte, Naturae unitas et simplicitas, ct inexhausta quaedan planities; ex altera, multiformis confusio magnorum corporum, et insanae rerum strages: quas cum intuebar, non urbis alicujus autoppidi, sed confracti mundi rudera, ante oculos habere mihi visus sum. • In singulis fere montibus erat aliquid insolens et mirabile, sed pre caeteris mihi placebat illa, qua sedebam, rupes; erat maxima et altissima, et qua terram respiciebat, molliori ascensu altitudinern suam dissimulabat: qua vero mare, horrendum preceps, et quasi ad perpendiculum facta, instar parietis. Praeterea facies illa marina adeo erat lacvis ac uniformis (quod in rupibus aliquando observare licet) ac si scissa fuisset a summo ad imum, in illo plano ; vel terræ motu aliquo, aut fulmine, divulsa. • Ima pars rupis crat cava, recessusque habuit, et saxcos specus, euntes in vacuum montem; sive natură pridem factos, sive exesos mari, et undarum crebris ictibus: In hos enim cum impetu ruebant et fragore, acstuantis maris fluctus; quos iterum spumantes reddidit antrum, et quasiab imo ventre evomuit. “Dextrum latus montis eral praeruptum, aspero saxo et nuda caute; sinistrum non adeo neglexerat Natura, arboribus utpote ornatum: et prope pedem montis rivus limpidae aquae prorupit; qui cum vicinam vallem irrigaverat, lento motu serpens, et per varios meandros, quasi ad protrahendam vitam, in magno mari absorptus subito periit. Denique in summo vertice promontorii, commode eminebat saxum, cui insideban contemplabundus. Wale augusta sedes, llege digna: Augusta rupes, semper mihi memoranda lo Pag. 89. Telluris Theoria sacra, etc. Editio secunda.

Page 284, col. 2.
Of Mississippi, or that Northern Stream.

“A man is supposed to improve by going out into the World, by visiting London. Art ial iman does; he extends with his sphere; but, alas ! that sphere is microscopic: it is formed of minutiae, and he surrenders his genuine vision to the artist, in order to cmbrace it in his ken. His bodily senses grow acute, even to barren and inhuman pruriency; while his mental become proportionally obtuse. The reverse is the Man of Mind: lie who is placed in the sphere of Nature and of God, might be a mock at Tattersall's and Brookes's; and a sneer at St James's : he would certainly be swallowed alive by the first Pizarro that crossed him —But when he walks along the River of Amazons; when he rests his eye on the unrivalled Andes; when he measures the long and watered Savannah; or contemplates from a sudden Promontory, the distant, vast Pacific—and feels himself a Freeman in this vast Theatre, and commanding each ready produced fruit of this wilderness, and each progeny of this stream—His exaltation is not less than Imperial. He is as geutle, too, as he is great :

His emotions of tenderness keep pace with his elevation of sentiment; for he says, “These were made by a good Being, who, unsought by me, placed me here to enjoy them. He becomes at once a Child and a King his mind is in himself; from hence he argues, and from hence he acts, and he argues unerringly, and acts magisterially: His mind in himself is also in his God; and therefore he loves, and therefore he soars. n-From the notes upon The Hurricane, a Poem, by William Gilbert. The Reader, I am sure, will thank me for the above Quotation, which, though from a strange book, is one of the finest passages of modern English prose.

Page 286, col. 2.

'T is, by comparison, an easy task Earth to despise, etc.

See, upon this subject, Baxter's most interesting review of his own opinions and sentiments in the decline of life. It may be sound (lately reprinted) in Dr wordsworth's Ecclesiastical Biography.

Page 287, col. 1.

Alas! the endowment of immortal Power.
Is matched unequally with custom, time, etc.

This subject is treated at length in the Ode at page 249. Page 288, col. 1.

Knowing the heart of Man is set to be, etc.

The passage quoted from Daniel is taken from a poem addressed to the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cumberland, and the two last lines, printed in Italics, are by him translated from Seneca. The whole Poem is very beautiful. I will transcribe four stanzas from it, as they contain an admirable picture of the state of a wise Man's mind in a time of public commotion.

Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks
Of Tyrants' threats, or with the surly brow
Of Power, that proudly sits on others' crimes:
Charged with more crying sins than those he checks.
The storms of sad confusion that may grow
Up in the present for the coming times,
Appal not him ; that hath no side at all,
But of himself, and knows the worst can fall.

Although his heart (so near allied to earth)
Cannot but pity the perplexed state
Of troublous and distressed mortality,
That thus make way unto the ugly Birth
r own Sorrows, and do still beget
on upon Imbecility :
Yet seeing thus the course of things must run,
Ile looks thereon not strange, but as fore-done.

And whilst distraught Ambition compasses,
And is encompassed, while as Craft deceives,
And is deceived : whilst Man douh ransack Man,
And builds on blood, and rises by distress;
And th’ inheritance of desolation leaves
To great-expecting Hopes: He looks thereon,
As from the shore of Peace, with unwet eye,
And bears no venture in Impiety.

Thus, Lady, fares that Man that hath prepared
A Rest for his desires; and sees all things
Beneath him; and hath learned this Book of Maa,
Full of the notes of srailty; and compared
The best of Glory with her sufferings:
By whom, I see, you labour all you can
to plant your heart; and set your thoughts as near
itis glorious Mansion as your powers can bear.

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'age 305, col. 1.

or rather, as we stand on holy earth, And have the Dead around us. Lee. You, sir, would help me to the History of half these Graves * Priest. For eight-score winters past, with what I've witnessed, and with what I've heard, Perhaps I might: By turning o'er these hillocks one by one, we two could travel, Sir, through a strange round; Yet all in the broad highway of the world. See page 35.

Page 303, col. 2.

And suffering Nature grieved that one should die. Sournov's lietrospect.

Page 303, col. 2.

And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards?

The sentiments and opinions here uttered are in unison with those expressed in the following Essay upon Epitaphs, which was furnished by the author for Mir Coleridge's periodical work, the Friend; and as they are dictated by a spirit congenial to that which pervades this and the two succeeding books, the sympathising reader will not be displeased to see the Essay here annexed.

ESSAY UPON E PITA PHS.

It needs scarcely be said, that an Epitaph presupposes a Monument, upon which it is to be engraven. | Almost all Nations have wished that certain external signs should point out the places where their Dead are interred. Among savage Tribes unacquainted with Letters, this has mostly been done either by rude stones placed near the Graves, or by Mounds of earth raised over them. This custom proceeded obviously from a twofold desire, first, to guard the remains of the deceased from irreverent approach or from savage violation : and, secondly, to preserve their memory. • Never any,” says Camden, a neglected burial but some savage Nations; as the Bactrians, which cast their dead to the dogs; some varlet Philosophers, as Diogenes, who desired to be devoured of fishes; some dissolute Courtiers, as Maecenas, who was wont to say, Non tumulum curo ; sepelit natura relictos.

1 m careless of a Grave:-Nature her dead will save •

As soon as Nations had learned the use of letters, Epitaphs were inscribed upon these Monuments; in order that their intention might be more surely and adequately fulfilled. I have derived Monuments and Epitaphs from two sources of feeling : but these do in fact resolve themselves into one. The invention of Epitaphs, Weever, in his Discourse of Funeral Monuments, says rightly, a proceeded from the presage or fore-feeling of Immortality, implanted in all men naturally, and is referred to the Scholars of Linus the Theban Poet, who flourished about the year of the world two thousand seven hundred; who first bewailed this Linus their Master, when he was slain, in doleful verses, then called of him Oolina, afterwards Epitaphia, for that they were first sung at burials, after engraved upon the Sepulchres.”

And, verily, without the consciousness of a principle of immortality in the human soul, Man could never have had awakened in him the desire to live in the remembrance of his fellows: mere love, or the yearm

ing of Kind towards Kind, could not have produced it. The Dog or Horse perishes in the field, or in the stall, by the side of his companions, and is incapable of anticipating the sorrow with which his surrounding Associates shall bemoan his death, or pine for his loss; he cannot pre-conceive this regret, he can form no thought of it; and therefore cannot possibly have a desire to ieave such regret or remembrance behind him. Add to the principle of love, which exists in the inferior animals, the faculty of reason which exists in Man alone; will the conjunction of these account for the desire? Doubtless it is a necessary consequence of this conjunction; yet not I think as a direct result, but only to be come at through an intermediate thought, viz. That of an intimation or assurance within us, that some part of our nature is imperishable. At least the precedence, in order of birth, of one feeling to the other, is unquestionable. If we look back upon the

days of childhood, we shall find that the time is not in

remembrance when, with respect to our own individua Being, the mind was without this assurance; whereas, the wish to be remembered by our Friends or Kindred

after Death, or even in Absence, is, as we shall discover,

a sensation that does not form itself till the social feelings have been developed, and the Reason has connected itself with a wide range of objects. Forlorn, and cut off from communication with the best part of his nature, must that Man be, who should derive the sense of immortality, as it exists in the mind of a Child, from the same unthinking gaiety or liveliness of animal Spirits with which the Lamb in the meadow, or any other irrational Creature, is endowed; who should ascribe it, in short, to blank ignorance in the Child; to an inability arising from the imperfect state of his faculties to come, in any point of his being, into contact with a notion of Death; or to an unreflecting acquiescence in what had been ins: illed into him Ilas such an unfolder of the mysteries of Nature, though he may have forgotten his former self, ever noticed the early, obstinate, and unappeasable inquisitiveness of Children upon the subject of origination? This single fact proves outwardly the monstrousness of those suppositions: for, if we had no direct external testimony that the minds of very young Children meditate feelingly upon Death and Immortality, these inquiries, which we all know they are perpetually making concerning the whence, do necessarily include correspondent habits of interrogation concerning the whither. Origin and tendency are notions inseparably co-relative. Never did a Child stand by the side of a running Stream, pondering within himself what power was the feeder of the perpetual current, from what never-wearied sources the body of water was supplied, but he must have been inevitably propelled to follow this question by another: a towards what abyss is it in progress? what receptacle can contain the mighty influx And the spirit of the answer must have been, though the word might be Sea or Ocean, accompanied perhaps with an image gathered from a Map, or from the real object in Nature—these might have been the letter, but the spirit of the answer must have been as inevitably,–a receptacle without bounds or dimensions;–nothing less than infinity: We may, then, be justified in asserting, that the sense of Immortality, if not a co-existent and twin birth with Reason, is among the earliest of her Offspring: and we may further assert, that from these conjoined, and un

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