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she carried her table on her head, her stock of little mer. chandise in her lap, and her stool in one hand, she was obliged to lead him by the other. Ever and anon, as any of the schoolboys appeared in view, the harmless thing clung close to her, and hid his face in her bosom for protection. A human creature so far below the standard of humanity, was nowhere ever seen: he had not even the shallow cunning which is often found among these unfinished beings; and his simplicity could not even be measured by the standard we would apply to the capacity of a lamb. Yet it had a feeling rarely manifested even in the affectionate dog, and a knowledge never shown by any mere animal. He was sensible of his mother's kindness, and how much he owed to her care. At night, when she spread his humble pallet, though he knew not prayer, nor could comprehend the solemnities of worship, he prostrated himself at her feet; and, as he kissed them mumbled a kind of mental orison, as if in fond and holy devotion. In the morning, before she went abroad to resume her station in the market-place, he peeped anxiously out to reconnoitre the street; and, as often as he saw any of the schoolboys in the way, he held her firmly back, and sung his sorrowful “pal-lal.”
One day the poor woman and her idiot boy were missed from the market-place; and the charity of some of the neighbours induced them to visit her hovel. They found her dead on her sorry couch, and the boy sitting beside her, holding her hand, swinging and singing his pitiful lay more sorrowfully than he had ever done before. He could not speak, but only utter a brutish gabble; sometimes, however, he looked as if he comprehended something of what was said. On this occasion, when the neighbours spoke to him, he looked up with the tear in his eye; and, clasping the cold hand more tenderly, sunk the strain of his mournful“ pal-lal” into a softer and sadder key. The spectators, deeply affected, raised him from the body; and he surrendered his hold of the earthly hand without resistance, retiring in silence to an obscure corner of the room. One of them, looking towards the others, said to them, "Poor wretch! what shall we do with him?” At that inoment, he resumed his chant; and, lifting two handfuls of dust from the floor, sprinkled it on his head, and sung, with a wild and clear heart-piercing pathos, "pal-lalpal-lal."
The Departed Spirits of the Just are Spectalors of our
Conduct on Earth. FROM what happened on the Mount of Transfiguration', we may infer', not only that the separated spirits of good' men' live' and act', and enjoy' happiness'; but that They take some interest in the business of this' world, and even that their interest' in it has a connection with the pursuits' and habits' of their former life. The virtuous cares which occupied them on earth', follow them into their new'abode. Moses' and Elias' had spent the days of their temporal pilgrimage in promoting among their brethren', the knowledge and the worship of the true God'. They are still' attentive to the same great object; and, enraptured' at the prospect of its advancement, they descend on this occasion' to animate' the labours' of Jesus', and to prepare him for his victory' over the powers of hell'.
What a delightful subject of contemplation' does this reflection open' to the pious' and benevolent' mind! what a spring' does it give to all the better energies of the heart'! Your labours of love', your plans of beneficence', your swellings of satisfaction' in the rising reputation of those whose virtues you have cherished', will not, we have reason'to hope, be terminated by the stroke' of death'. No'!
- your spirits will still linger around the objects of their former attachment'; they will behold with rapture, even the distant' effects of those beneficent' institutions' which they once' delighted to rear'; they will watch with a pious satisfaction over the growing prosperity of the country' which they loved'; with a parent's fondness', and a parent's exultation', they will share in the fame of their virtuous' posterity'; and-by the permission of God'—they may descend', at times', as guardian angels', to shield them from danger', and to conduct' them to glory!
Of all the thoughts that can enter the human mind', this' is one of the most animating and consolatory'. It scatters flowers' around the bed of death'. It enables us' who are left behind', to support with firmness', the departure' of our best beloved friends', because it teaches' us that they are not lost to us for ever'. They are still' our friends. Though they be now gone to another' apartment in our Father's house, they have carried with them the remembrance'and the feeling' of their former' attachments'. Though invisible to us—they bend from their dwelling on high', to cheer' us in our pilgrimage' of duty', to rejoice with us in our prosperity', and, in the hour of virtuous' exertion', to shed' through our souls', the blessedness' of heaven'.
Time and Manner of the Arrival of Death. Death is called, in Scripture, the land without any order; and, without any order, the king of terrors makes his approaches in the world. The commission given from on high, was,
Go into the world: Strike! strike! so that the dead may alarm the living. Hence it is, that we seldom see men running the full career of life; growing old among their children's children, and then falling asleep in the arms of nature, as in the embraces of a kind mother-coming to the grave like a shock of corn fully ripe, like flowers that shut up at the close of the day. Death walks through the world without any order. He delights to surprise, to give a shock to mankind. Hence, he leaves the wretched to prolong the line of their sorrows, and cuts off the fortunate in the midst of their career; he suffers the aged to survive himself, to outlive life, to stalk about the ghost of what he was; and aims his arrow at the heart of the young, who puts the evil day far from him. He delights to see the feeble carrying the vigorous to the grave, and the father building the tomb of his children. Often, when his approaches are least expected, he bursts at once upon the world, like an earthquake in the dead of night, or thunder in the serenest sky. and conditions he sweeps away without distinction: the young man just entering into life, high in hope, elated with joy, and promising to himself a length of years; the father of a family, from the embraces of his wife and chil
dren; the man of the world, when nis designs are ripening to execution, and the long-expected crisis of enjoyment seems to approach. These, and all others, are hurried promiscuously off the stage, and laid, without order, in the common grave. Every path in the world leads to the tomb, and every hour in life hath been to some the last hour.
Without order, too, is the manner of death's approach. The king of terrors wears a thousand forms; pains and diseases—a numerous and a direful train-compose his host. Marking out unhappy man for their prey, they attack the seat of life, or the seat of understanding; hurry him off the stage in an instant, or make him pine by slow degrees. Blasting the bloom of life, or waiting till the decline, according to the pathetic picture of Solomon, “they make the strong men bow themselves, and the keepers of the house tremble; make the grinders cease; bring the daughters of music low; darken the sun, and the moon, and the stars; scatter fears in the way, and make desire itself to fail; until the silver cord be loosed, and the golden bowl be broken; when the dust returns to the dust as it was, and the spirit ascends to God who gave it.”
On the Threatened Invasion in 1803. By a series of criminal enterprises, by the success of guilty ambition, the liberties of Europe have been gradually extinguished. The subjugation of Holland, Switzerland, and the free towns of Germany, has completed that catastrophe; and we are the only people in the eastern hemisphere, who are in possession of equal laws, and a free constitution. Freedom, driven from every spot on the Continent, has sought an asylum in a country which she always chose for her favourite abode: but she is pursued even here, and threatened with destruction. The inundation of lawless power, after covering the whole earth, threatens to follow us here; and we are most exactly, most critically placed in the only aperture where it can be successfully repelled—in the Thermopylæ of the world. As far as the interests of freedom are concerned—the most important by far of sublunary interests !-you, my countrymen, stand in the capacity of the federal representatives of the human race; for with you it is to determine-under God-in what condition the latest posterity shall be born. Their fortunes are entrusted to your care; and on your conduct, at this moment, depends the colour and complexion of their destiny. If liberty, after being extinguished on the Continent, is suffered to expire here; whence is it ever to emerge in the midst of that thick night that will invest it? It remains with you, then, to decide, whether that freedom, at whose voice the kingdoms of Europe awoke from the sleep of ages, to run a career of virtuous emulation in every thing great and good; the freedom which dispelled the mists of superstition, and invited the nations to behold their God; whose magic torch kindled the rays of genius, the enthusiasm of poetry, and the flame of eloquence—the freedom which poured into our lap opulence and arts, and embellished life with innumerable institutions and improvements, till it became a theatre of wonders—it is for you to decide, whether this freedom shall yet survive, or be covered with a funeral pall, and wrapped in eternal gloom. It is not necessary to await
determination. In the solicitude you feel to approve yourselves worthy of such a trust, every thought of what is aflicting in warfare, every apprehension of danger, must vanish; and you are impatient to mingle in the battle of the civilized world. Go then, ye defenders of your country, accompanied with every auspicious omen; advance with alacrity into the field, where God himself musters the host to war. Religion is too much interested in your success, not to lend you her aid. She will shed over this enterprise her selectest influence. While you are engaged in the field, many will repair to the closetmany, to the sanctuary. The faithful of every name will employ that prayer which has power with God. The feeble hands, which are unequal to any other weapon, will grasp the sword of the Spirit; and from myriads of humble contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle in its ascent to heaven, with the shouts of battle, and the shock of arms. The extent of your resources, under God, is equal to the justice of your
But should Providence determine otherwise, should you fall in this struggle, should the nation fall-you will have the satisfaction—the purest allotted to man- -of having performed your part; your names will be enrolled with the most illustrious dead, while posterity to the end of time, as often as they revolve the events of this period—