the soul be the fettered slave of the material forms on which it stamps the proofs of its creating and disposing power? That which comprehends the laws, and controls the phenomena of passive matter, has the better claim to be considered a distinct and independent existence. It is worthier to be studied. It is the primary being; matter the secondary and subordinate. I believe there is much truth in Mr. Alison's theory of taste, which regards material forms as beautiful only as they are significant of agreeable qualities of mind. Matter, in all its arrangements, discourses eloquently of mind; and this is its highest function. To the mind debased by constant occupation about the objects of sense, material forms themselves lose their high significance. He alone who feels within himself the workings of an immortal spirit, can sympathize with, and in some measure comprehend, the kindred intelligence and love that speak out from the visible world.

If the mental phenomena were made an object of early attention, I see no reason to doubt that they would soon become as distinct objects of conception as any external thing. Their distinctive character, their entire remoteness from all similarity to any other phenomena, would be so obvious as to remove all danger of confounding them with anything external. And I see no reason to doubt that if the mind were distinctly, habitually, regarded as the subject of a class of phenomena essentially different from any object of sense, we should as firmly believe in its continued existence, and the uniformity of the laws which make the reward and punishment of its acts a part of itself, as we believe in the continuance of the laws of nature in general.

Another beneficial effect of the general study of mental philosophy, would be a better application of the principles of inductive evidence in the affairs of life. When Bacon explained the true principles of philosophical inquiry, he did but make known the natural progress of the understanding in the acquisition of knowledge. He showed clearly that the observation and comparison of facts is our only means of gaining a knowledge of nature. How incalculably have mankind benefited by the application of this truth in our physical inquiries! But this truth is but a fact in mental philosophy-it is a law of the human mind. It is observed in our physical inquiries; and to this we owe all the progress which has been made in the physical sciences. But there are inquiries and reasonings of a not less important character, in which the truth is only to be reached by following the same principles of evidence. I speak of the formation of opinions touching the characters of men, and the measures and acts of men in official stations. Here is a department of inquiry of peculiar interest in a republican state, in which the laws of reason, the true rules of

evidence, are very indifferently regarded. The principles of the inductive philosophy are not well obeyed in this department of inquiry, where the welfare and the peace of mankind require that they should be most carefully observed. Our public addresses and periodical essays, published ostensibly to convince and persuade, too frequently degenerate into common railing, or unmeaning panegyric. Sweeping conclusions, that disdain the support of specific facts, are quite as common, perhaps, among our men of conventions and newspapers, as they ever were among the alchemists. Yet it would be difficult to prove that sound conclusions are of less moment in the inquiries relating to the behavior of men, than in the inquiries into the nature and composition of salts and metals. I cannot doubt that a more general cultivation of mental philosophy would, in some degree, restrain the extravagances which set all its principles at defiance. The practical applications of intellectual philosophy have one marked difference from those of the physical sciences. The latter, though cultivated by a very few persons, diffuse their benefits among all. All participate in the advantages of improved machinery, and other applications of physical knowledge. But the applications of intellectual science are mostly personal. Each individual must himself possess the principles, in order to reap the chief benefits of their application. There is, however, one practical use of mental science which sheds its richest blessings on those who are little able to comprehend its principles. I mean the art of education. This art has certainly received great improvements within a few years past. It has been more nearly adapted to the natural progress of the intellect. But how much more is to be done here!

These speculations have been continued too far, to allow of more than a hasty glance at the connection between the sciences of mind and morals. The latter is the sequel to the former. The knowledge of our intellectual and moral faculties is the foundation of natural theology, and of all religion. It is likewise the foundation of the doctrine of the essential equality of man. Does not man now begin to feel that his fellow man has claims upon his sympathy and his efforts, that former ages never thought of? And to what is this owing? Chiefly, I apprehend, to the better perception of the capabilities of every human mind. And here I conclude in the words of one of whose great talents our country is justly proud-who, better than any living writer, has illustrated the utility of intellectual science, and its connection with the best hopes of man:

"I esteem it no small benefit of the philosophy of mind, that it teaches us that the elements of the greatest thoughts of the man of genius exist in his humbler brethren; and that the facul

ties which the scientific exert in the profoundest discoveries, are precisely the same with those which common men employ in the daily labors of life. * * * The true view of great men is, that they are only examples and manifestations of our common nature, showing what belongs to all souls, though unfolded yet in only a few. The light which shines from them is after all but a faint revelation of the power which is treasured up in every human being. They are not prodigies, not miracles, but natural developments of the human soul."

Detroit.

G. C.

A SISTER'S THOUGHTS OVER A BROTHER'S

GRAVE.

BY REV. JOHN PIERPONT.

I.

He sleeps in peace! Death's cold eclipse
His radiant eyes hath shrouded o'er;

And Slander's poison, from the lips

Of woman, on his heart no more
Distils, and burns it to its core.

II.

He sleeps in peace! The noble spirit
That beamed forth from his living brow,

Prompt, at the shrine of real merit,

With reverence and with truth to bow,
Is, by false tongues, not troubled now.

III.

He sleeps in peace! And while he sleeps,
He dreams not of earth's loves or strifes,
The tears a sister for him weeps;

He knows not that they're not his wife's:
His thoughts are all another life's.

IV.

I hope he knows not that the hand,
Once given to him, is now another's:
I know the flame that once it fanned

Had all gone out. I know, my brother's
Last thoughts were of my love and mother's.

V.

I hope he knows not that his child

Hears not, nor knows, its father's name Keep its young spirit undefiled,

And worthy of its father's fame,

O Thou from whom its spirit came!

VI.

Thou Father of the fatherless,

The mantle that my brother woreThe robe of truth and faithfulnessKeep, for his infant, in thy store: My brother hath left nothing more!

VII.

That mantle! Men had seen him throw
It amply round him, ere it fell:
Peace, brother, 'tis as white as snow;

No one of all on earth that dwell,

Can stain what once became thee well

VIII.

In peace thou sleepest: through the bars
Of its dim cell thy spirit fled;
And now thy sister and thy stars
Their tears of dew and pity shed,
Heart-broken brother, on thy bed!

THOUGHTS IN THE WILDERNESS.

BY H. W. ROCKWELL.

To DWELL upon the lordly mountain's brow,

To love the proud community of pines,

And the society of water-falls;

To gossip with the merry birds that build

Their air citadels upon the tops

Of the sky piercing minarets of rock;

Or, half-enraptured, watch the far-off storm,

What time the crinkled lightning writes its creed

Upon the sable canvass of "old night,"

Aud the terrific thunder's sounding bass
Doth shake the great rotunda of the sky!

To commune with the lordly forest-kings,
That stand, a great and valiant brotherhood,
Upon their rocky and cloud-girdled thrones,
Scarred with the lightnings of a thousand storms,
And bending 'neath their load of royalty;

To mark the flight of the dark hurricanes,
That meet upon the ever-sounding sea,
To hold conspiracy with the fierce crew
Of hungry breakers, and devouring waves,
That drench the gasping mariners, who yell
Upon the masts of princely argosies;
This is the soul's most perfect happiness;
For there is that within us which doth hold
No fellowship with earthly vanity,
But seeks a greater, grander element,
Where it may taste that high sublimity,
Which elevates, refines, and warms the heart,
And fills its chambers with proud imagery,
And excellence, and beauty, all divine!

FATHER! these are thy works! I see thee here,
In the great wilderness, and I have marked
Thy pathway on the cloud-compelling storm,
And I have seen thy awful majesty

In the tree-twisting whirlwind, and have heard
Thy deep voice in the dying thunder's roar;
And therefore, in this great and glorious fane,
Father! I would for ever worship;

Whether the soft wind's flute-like harmony
Runs through the reeds at night-fall, and the stars
Look down into the streams, and the great sea
Offers to thee its hymn; or whether thou
Dost bid the dreadful lightning wink in heaven,
And call the trembling thunder from its couch,
What time the mountains echo back the crash
Of its vast palaces, and the high dome
Of heaven reverberates the awful peal!

Oh! ever let me be a worshipper
In temples so magnificent; for here
Religion sits upon the eternal hills,

And the imperial mountains, and doth make
Her great divan amid the cloistered gloom
Of ancient wood; or pillowing her head
Upon the bosom of the thunder-cloud,
Investeth Night with great magnificence,
And grander makes the long-contested wars
Of the loud-roaring storms, that fright the stars,
And vex with rage old Ocean's mighty soul;
And she doth plant her foot upon the breast,
When the hoarse-sounding hurricanes have woke
The anger of the mighty monarch waves,
And lifting up her queenly head in heaven,

Doth smile to hear the solemn thunder roll

Along the concave of heaven's echoing dome!