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pith of her Considerations on the French Revolution, but it helped to mar her own welfare.

The support of Christian piety was wanting to Madame de Stael, as well as the anchor of connubial love. Her friend mentions, indeed, that from the epoch of her father's death, her religious opinions became more decided; “ the vague of a poetic belief ceased to satisfy her cravings; she required a firm faith in that promise of immortality which alone saved her from despair ; she had need of being a Christian, because her father died a Christian ; in her mortal struggle, she repelled the terrors of death, by the thought that she was going to rejoin her father.” This was, truly, a close contraction of the Christian faith and hope; too close for a person of her liabilities and moral constitution.

It is not to her genius, or to fortune, that we must impute the miscarriage of her endeavours after happiness. Her example is full of admonition against immoderate and incongruous avidities and efforts. Talents form a productive blessing for a female, if they are cultivated and applied conformably to her plain natural destination: simple domestic life is a safe, and not a very narrow sphere, of duty and pleasure. When the actual condition of the two sexes in civilized society is sedately and broadly examined, the lot of each is seen to have its inconveniences and its advantages; and, perhaps, superiority cannot be asserted for either on the whole.

With regard to relative mental powers, wild speculation and superfluous ingenuity have been lavished on both sides of the question. In endowing each, Providence has distinguished the share and quality, and separated the uses, in his general economy. We would refer to Hannah More's “ Comparative View of the Sexes," for a rational and discriminative discussion of this topic. In

adducing cases of female scholarship, we have shown that females are at least capable of becoming learned in the ultimate degree, but we have not meant to recommend a classical education to our countrywomen. The German professor, Meiners, well observes, that in the sixteenth, and first half of the seventeenth centuries, the modern languages were unpolished, and had produced very few masterpieces ; and therefore, the women of genius, who were desirous of cultivating their understandings and their hearts, were obliged to learn the ancient languages, in whose works alone they could find the treasures of useful and ornamental knowledge. This necessity has disappeared; the literature of each of the modern tongues, is sufficiently refined and comprehensive. Our state of society, and the offices of an American wife and mother, are, moreover, such, that the time requisite for the proper acquisition of the Greek and Latin, cannot be afforded, and the application, or general usefulness of this knowledge, would be much more limited than it is in Europe.



ONE bright autumnal day, a weak old man
Had slowly totter'd to the mountain side,
As if once more his aged eye would scan
The prospect, ere the founts of life were dried;
When, kindling at the view, his glowing soul
Pour'd forth the feelings it could not control.

“Oh, parent earth! when first the laughing spring
Came with her sweet-toned winds and rosy hours,
And bade the sky a golden mantle fling,
To cheer the hills, and brightening world of flowers,
Diffusing each clear hue the sunbeam weaves,
And calling forth the race of forest leaves :

“In that pure season, I, thy fervent child,
Brought my first offering to thy cloudlese gleam;
A soul, whose thoughts like thee were undefiled,
And feelings gushing as the mountain stream;
With these my treasures, and in lavish mirth,
I came to greet thy spring, oh, parent earth!

“ Well I remember the clear dream which rose,
Hope's joyous prototype of after days,
Where, like thy vernal landscape's bright repose,
Life's vision'd beauty met my


gaze; Music around, and odours on the breeze, And blossoms blushing from the leafy trees,

“ Years cast their shadow o’er me, and once more,
Maternal earth! I came, thy alter'd child,
My thanks for ripen'd soul and strength to pour,
When summer in its full refulgence smiled;
Like thy unfolded buds, my dream of youth
Had brighten'd to the certainty of truth.

" Yet death had crossed my path; the fragile flowers,
Round which my heart its love had closest twined,
When not a cloud was on the sunny hours,
Heard his strong mandate, and in gloom declined;
But time, the unerring healer! had represt
My selfish mourning for the freed and blest.

6. And other wreaths enchain'd me; I had led
My fond soul's idol to the holy shrine,
And joy its heavenly glow before us spread,
Colouring existence with a hue divine;
But that long since hath past, and now I stand
Summon’d by voices from the spirit land.

“ Earth, take thy kindred dust, for years have laid
A withering curse upon my pulse and limb;
Even now, a dweller in the realm of shade,
My lamp of life is fading fast, and dim;
And my quick spirit pines for that far shore,
To which its brightest dreams are gone before.”

The old man's voice was hush'd-it seem'd that sleep,
With blessed calmness, o'er his senses came;
Yes—and for ever shall that slumber keep
Its iron grasp upon his wearied frame;
Existence was fulfill'd, the soul had fled,
And dull oblivion triumph'd o'er the dead.



In recommending to our fellow-citizens the cultivation of a general taste in the fine arts, and a liberal attention to every institution calculated to promote it, we should not overlook some of its most interesting uses to society. Every man who is a member of that society and has influence and power in it, either by his rank, his education, or his wealth, has a deep interest, perhaps a serious duty, to attend to on this subject. It is no new doctrine to assert that the fine arts are of great importance to the morals of the community. Their influence, in this respect, may reach where the voice of the preacher is never heard, and the lectures of the moralist never read. By providing an innocent, an interesting, and dignified source of pleasure, they not only draw the mind from gross and vulgar gratifications; but finally so entirely absorb and purify it; so quicken its sensibility and refine its taste, that pleasures more gross lose their attractions and become disgusting. Men, whose inclination and fortune withdraw them from scenes of active and necessary business, still require occupation and amusement. The mind that is stagnant loses its vital principle, and sinks either into a distressing lethargy, or low and corrupting vices. What a resource, what a refuge is opened to such men in the fascinating gardens of Taste.

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