Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.-BEN JONSON,

I will have all my beds blown up, not stuffed.
Down is too hard, and then my oval room
Filled with such pictures, as Tiberius took
From Elephantis, and dull Aretine
But coldly imitated-My mists

I'll have of perfume, vapored 'bout the room,
To lose ourselves in, and my baths, like pits,
To fall into, from whence we will come forth,
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses,-
My meat shall all come in Indian shells,
Dishes of agate, set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies,
The tongues of carp, dormice, and camel's heels
Boiled in the spirit of sol and dissolved pearl,
(Apicius' diet 'gainst the epilepsie,)

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants; I myself will have
The beards of barbels served instead of salads.
-My shirts
I'll have of taffeta sarcenet, soft and light
As cobwebs, and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fish's and bird's skins perfumed
With gums of paradise, and eastern air.

Q. And do you think to have the stone with this?
A. No, I do think to have all this with the stone.

LORD BYRON.-BOSTON BARD.
"His soul is dark as Erebus."

Satan his harp to Byron gave,
And said " Go, sweep it well;
Thy throne, the murderer's reeking grave,
Thy theme, the feats of hell.

To misery's child new misery add-
Tell him no pardon's given;
Drive, drive the shuddering sinner mad,
And break his hold on heaven.

Sweep, sweep the lyre to godless themes-
For vice a chaplet twine;
Of horrors be thy waking dreams,—
Of horrors that are mine.

Of agonies in hell that rise-
Of darkness that is felt;

Of reeling worlds-of sundering skies-
Of terrors yet unspelt.

Dark be the picture-let no light,
Not one dim ray illume;
Dark, dark as never-ending night,
As self-destroyer's doom!

Man's hope, man's peace forever mar,
Eclipse religion's sun;
Tread out salvation's golden star,
And see thy work well done!"

He said; his lordship took the lyre,
And swept the strings along,
While Satan stole from heaven the fire,
And tuned the godless song!

A WORD.-BYRON.

Could I embody and unbosom now

That which is most within me,-could I wreak
My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw
Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak,
All that I would have sought, and all I seek,
Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe-into one word,
And that one word were lightning, I would speak;
But as it is, I live and die unheard,

With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.

76

CLIMAX.

MOTIVES TO REFORM.--BEECHER,

Let me entreat the unhappy men who are the special objects of legal restraint, to cease from their evil ways, and, by voluntary reformation, supersede the necessity of coersion and punishment. Why will you die? What fearful thing is there in heaven, which makes you flee from that world? What fascinating object in hell, that excites such frenzied exertion to burst every band, and overleap every mound, and force your way downward to the chambers of death? Stop, I beseech you, and repent, and Jesus Christ shall blot out your sins, and remember your transgressions no more. Stop, and the host who follow your steps shall turn, and take hold on the path of life. Stop, and the wide waste of sin shall cease, and the song of angels shall be heard again; "Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace, good will to men." Stop, and instead of wailing with the lost, you shall join the multitudes which no man can number, in the ascription of blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, to him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever.

DESIRE OF ESTEEM, AND LOVE OF ADMIRATION,---DWIGHT.

The desire of esteem is, in its nature, capable of being just and vindicable. It may be, it often is, no other than the desire of being believed by others to have thought and acted well; to have done our duty; to have conformed to the dictates of conscience, and the word of God. In this case, if confined within the limits prescribed in the sacred volume, it is virtuous. In that volume we are taught, that a good name is better than great riches, and loving favor, than silver and gold. A good name is nothing but the character testified of us by others, when they believe that we have done our duty and such a testimony is by the voice of God, declared to be better than great riches. Accordingly, it is valued and sought, and the scriptures intended that it should be thus valued and sought by good men. The esteem of the wise and virtuous, commonly followed by that of

other men, is of more worth than we can easily calculate; and forms no small part of the happiness found on this side of the grave. Nay, the esteem of angels, and of the spirits of just men made perfect, will constitute an essential part of the enjoyments of heaven.

Rational esteem is given only to good qualities, displayed in good conduct. The sober desire of such esteem will therefore prompt him, in whom it exists, to the attainment, the increase, and the exhibition, of such qualities; or, in other words, will urge him to the acquisition of the best character.

But the love of admiration is a far more common attribute of the human mind; and, if I mistake not, is never virtuous. The praise which we covet for our talents, accomplishments, wealth, splendor, power, or influence, is in every case, which I have been able to figure to myself, sinfully coveted. This is the very desire of distinction which our first parents cherished in their apostasy. It is the ambition which has disgraced and afflicted mankind from the beginning; under the efforts of which the earth has groaned and travailed in pain together, till the present hour. It is the spirit, which, to a vast extent, has goaded the usurper on to the throne, through treachery and blood; and spurred the hero to conflagration and slaughter. It is not always made the ultimate object; but is intended, in many instances, to subserve the purposes of other base and selfish affections; the acquisition of wealth, power, and pleasure.

No passion of the human mind is stronger than this. After it has been sufficiently indulged to become a habit, it engrosses all the energy of the soul; or, perhaps, more properly, becomes its whole energy; and converts all the faculties, and all the efforts, to its own purposes. In this case the soul is changed into a mere mass of ambition: and nothing in heaven, or in earth, is felt to possess the least value, except as it may be subservient to the dictates of this master passion. Alexander, under its influence, ravaged a world, and sighed and wept for another. In his steps has trodden every military madman down to the present hour: and in the same steps, before them all, walked Satan, the first maniac ever seen in the universe; when he disdained the high estate to which he had been originally exalted, and left his own habitation; or, in other words, the magnificent station assigned him by God, because it was not lofty enough to satisfy his desire of distinction. There is no excess, no length, to which this affection will not go. There is no authority of God or man, against which it will not rebel;

no law, which it will not violate; no obligation, which it will not burst asunder; and no motive, furnished by time or eternity, by heaven or hell, which it will not overcome. Wickedness can in no other form become more intense; nor its plans more vast; nor its obstinacy more enduring; nor its ravages more extensive, or more dreadful.

EARTHLY GRADATIONS.--TAYLOR.

Let us look then to the widely-severed ranks of an Asiatic empire. There is first its wretched and vilified class, upon which the superincumbent structure of the social system presses so heavily as almost to crush existence;-often actually to crush it; and always to render life undesirable. The urgent wants of nature, never provided for beyond the present moment-the most abhorrent sustenance, furtively snatched from the dust; while contempt, servitude, and pain, stand by to embitter the insufficient meal! Shall these abjects-these victims-these outcasts know any thing of pleasure? Yes, even these shall snatch a joy; for human nature does not readily throw off its instinct of happiness. But pleasure to such must be intemperate and frantic; because hurried and stolen:-the hour of enjoyment (if enjoyment it should be called) is as murky, as it must be―hemmed in before and behind by necessities and woes. Or we may turn aside to gaze upon the hovel which serves as the last retreat of wretchedness, and where indolent misery, bred by vice upon despair, finds a home: to such (alas that in fact there are such,) to such the common air has no balm-the light of day no brightness-nature no boon. Spring, with its bright mornings and its flowers, and summer with its noons of fervor and fruits and pastimes, and autumn with its golden abundance and luxuries, bring no smile, no change-the round of the year is a winter. What is that word joy to such ?-they know it not even afar off, by sight or hearing:- -or if ever they taste a reckless bowl, it is one in which death has shed some new anguish for to-morrow.

To these unfortunates-the helots of mankind, more or less numerous in every community, according to the viciousness or rectitude of its principles, (absolutely wanting in none,) succeeds the class that, as a broad foundation, sustains the edifice of society. But of this higher class all that can well be said is,