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PATHETIC PIECES.

Section I.

THE BLIND PREACHER.

I HAVE been, my dear S-, on an excursion through the counties which lie along the eastern side of the Blue Ridge. A general description of that country and its inhabitants, may form the subject of a future letter. For the present, I must entertain you with an account of a most singular and interesting adventure, which I inet with in the course of the tour.

It was one Sunday, as I travelled through the county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous, old, wooden house, in the forest, not far from the road-side. Having frequently seen such objects before, in travelling through these states, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship. Devotion alone should have stopped me, to join in the duties of the congregation ; but I must confess, that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness, was not the least of my motives,

On entering the house, I was struck with his preternatural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man....his head, which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaken under the influence of a palsy, and a few moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind, The first emotions which touched

my breast, were those of mingled pity and veneration. But ah ! Great God! How soon were all my feelings changed! It was a day of the administration of the sa

crament, and his subject, of course, was the passion of our Saviour. I had heard the subject handled a thousand times : I had thought it exhausted long ago. Little did I suppose, that in the wild woods of Ame., rica, I was to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to this topic, a new and more sublime pathos than I had ever before witnessed.

As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the mystic symbol, there was a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in his air and manner, which made my blood run cold, and my whole frame to shiver. He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Saviour-his trial before Pilate-his ascent up Calvary his crucifixion-and his death. I knew the whole history ; but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so coloured! It was all new ;. and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in my life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on every syllable ; and every heart in the assembly trembled in unison.

His peculiar phrases, had that force of description, that the original scene appeared to be, at that mo. ment, acting before our eyes. We saw the

very

faces of the Jews--the staring, frightful distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet-my soul kindled with a flame of indignation, and my hands were involuntarily and convulsively clenched. But when he came to touch the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Saviour-when he drew, to the life, his bless ed eyes streaming in tears to heaven-his voice breathing to God, a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, “ Father forgive them, for they know not what they do."—the voice of the preacher which had all along faultered, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect is inconceivable. The whole house resounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation.

It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fallacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive, how he would be able to let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. But-no: the descent was as beautiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid and enthusiastic.

The first sentence with which he broke the awful silence, was a quotation from Rousseau : “ Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a God!!" I despair of giving you any idea of the ef. fect produced by this short sentence, unless you could perfectly conceive the whole manner of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never before, did I completely understand what Demosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery.

You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the preacher-his blindness, constantly recalling to your recollection old Homer, Ossian and Milton, and associating with his performance, the melancholy grandeur of their geniuses--you are to imagine that you hear his slow solemn, well accented enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling melody----you are to remember the pitch of passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were raised-and then, the few minutes of portentous, death-like silence which reigned throughout the house the preacher removing his white handkerchief from his aged face (even yet wet from the recent torrents of his tears) and slowly stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence"Socrates died like a philossopher”--then pausing, raised his other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his sightless balls to Heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice"but Jesus Christ-like a God !" If he had

been indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect could scarcely be more divine.

Whatever I have been able to conceive of the sublimity of Massillon, or the force of Bourdaloue, had fallen far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this simple sentence. The blood, which, just before, had rushed in a hurricane upon my brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feelings, had. held my whole system in suspense ; now ran back into my heart, with a sensation which I cannot describe ; a kind of shuddering delicious horror! The paroxysm of blended pity and indignation to which I had been transported, subsided into the deepest self-abasement, humility and adoration. I had just been lacerated and dissolved by sympathy, for our Saviour, as a fellow creature ;- but now, with fear and trembling, I adore him—" as a God!"

If this description gives you the impression, that this incomparable minister had any thing of shallow theatrical tricks in his manner, it does him great injustice. I have never seen, in any other orator, such an union of simplicity and majesty. He has not a gesture, an attitude, or an accent, to which he does not seem forced, by the sentiments which he is expressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too solicitous, and at the same time, too dignified, to stoop to artifice. Although as far removed from ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear from the train, the style and substance of his thoughts, that he is not only a very polite scholar, but a man of extensive and profound erudition. I was forcibly struck with a short, but beautiful character which he drew of our learned and amiable countryman, Sir Robert Boyle : he spoke of him, as if “ his noble mind had, even before death, divested herself of all influence from his frail tabernacle “ of flesh ;” and called him in his peculiarly emphatic and impressive manner,

a pure intelligence the link between men and an

gels.”

This man has been before my imagination almoșt, ever since. A. thousand times as I rode along, I dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my hand, and tried to imitate his quotation from Rousseau ; a thousand times I abandoned the attempt in despair, and felt persuaded that his peculiar manner and

power, arose from an energy of soul, which nature could give, but which no human being could justly copy. In short, he seems to be altogether a being of a former age, or a totally different nature from the rest of men.

Guess my surprise, when on my arrival at Richmond, and mentioning the name of this man, I found not one person who had ever before heard of Fames Waddell! Is it not strange, that such a genius as this, so accomplished a scholar, so divine an orator, should be permitted to languish and die in obscurity, within eighty miles of the metropolis of Virginia !

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Section II.

.

DR. MASON'S INTERVIEW WITH

GEN. ILAMILTON.

On the morning of Wednesday, the 11th inst. shortly after the rumour of the general's injury had created an alarm in the city, a note from Dr. Post? informed me that “he was extremely ill at Mr. Wm. Bayard's, and expressed a particular desire to see me as soon as possible.” I went immediately. The exchange of melancholy salutation, on entering the General's apartment, was succeeded by a silence which he broke by saying, that he had been anxious to see me, and have the sacrament administered to him, and that this was still his wish.”

I replied, that “it gave me unutterable pain to receive from him any request to which I could not accede : that, in the present instance, a compliance was incompatible with all my obligations ; as it is a

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