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ioned and so bountifully furnished, has not been created but for lofty ends. But cast your eye on the humblest rose of the garden, and it may teach a wiser lesson. There you behold contrivance and ornament-in every leaf the finest veins, the most delicate odor, and a per'fume ex'quisite beyond imitation; yet all this is but a toy-a plaything of nature; and surely she whose resources are so boundless that upon the gaud of a summer day she can throw away such lavish wealth, steps not beyond her commonest toil when she forms of the dust a living man. When will man learn the lesson of his own insignificance?

5. Immortal man! thy blood flows freely and fully, and thou standèst a Napoleon; thou reclinest a Shakspeare!-it quickens its movement, and thou liëst a parched and fretful thing, with thy mind furied by the phantoms of fever!—it retards its action but a little, and thou crawlest a crouching, soulless mass, the bright world a blank, dead vision to thine eye. Verily, O man, thou art a glorious and godlike being!

6. Tell life's proudèst tale: what is it? A few attempts successless; a few crushed or mōldered hopes; much paltry fretting; a little sleep, and the story is concluded; the curtain falls -the farce is over. The world is not a place to live in, but to die in. It is a house that has but two chambers; a lazar and a charnel--room only for the dying and the dead. There is not a spot on the broad earth on which man can plant his foot and affirm with confidence, "No mortal sleeps beneath!"

7. Seeing then that these things are, what shall we say? Shall we exclaim with the gay-hearted Grecian, "Drink to-day, for tomorrow we are not?" Shall we calmly float down the current, smiling if we can, silent when we must, lulling cares to sleep by the music of gentle enjoyment, and passing dream-like through a land of dreams? No! dream-like as is our life, there is in it one reality—our DUTY. Let us cling to that, and distress may overwhelm, but can not disturb us-may destroy, but can not hurt us the bitterness of earthly things and the shortness of earthly life will cease to be evils, and begin to be blessings.


HORACE BINNEY WALLACE was born in Philadelphia on the 26th of February, 1817. He passed the first two years of his collegiate course at the University of Pennsylvania, and the residue at Princeton College, where he was graduated in 1835. He studied law with great thoroughness, and at the age of twenty-seven, prepared notes, that have been commended by the highest legal authorities, for "Smith's Selections of Leading Cases in various Branches of the Law," and

"White and Tudor's Selection of Leading Cases in Equity." He also devoted much time to scientific study; produced "Stanley," a novel; and published a number of articles anonymously in various periodicals. He sailed for Europe in April, 1849, and passed a year in England, Germany, France, and Italy. On his return he resumed with increased energy, his literary pursuits. His eye-sight became impaired in the spring of 1852, owing to the incipient stages of congestion of the brain, caused by undue mental exertion. By the advice of physicians, he embarked for England in November. Finding no improvement in his condition, on his arrival, he went to Paris for medical advice, where his cerebral discase increased, and led to his death suddenly, on the 16th of December following. In 1855 appeared in Philadelphia a volume of his writings, entitled "Art, Scenery, and Philosophy in Europe." These essays on the principles of art, descriptions of cathedrals, traveling sketches, and papers on distinguished artists, though not designed for publication, and mostly in an unfinished state, display great depth of thought, command of language, knowledge of the history and aesthetic principles of art, and a finely cultivated taste. A second volume of his writings, "Literary Criticisms and other Papers," appeared in 1856. These two works form but a small part of Mr. Wallace's literary productions.






PLAIN man, who knew nothing of the curious transmutations' which the wit of man can work, would be very apt to wonder by what kind of legerdemain2 Aaron Burr3 had contrived to shuffle himself down to the bottom of the pack, as an ac'cessory, and turn up poor Blennerhasset as principal, in this treason. Who, then, is Aaron Burr, and what the part which he has borne in this transaction? He is its author, its projector, its active ĕx'ecuter. Bold, ardent, restlèss, and aspiring, his brain conceived it, his hand brought it into action.

1 Trans`mu ta'tion, a change into another substance or form.

he was made attorney-general in 1789. He was a member of the Uni'Lěg`er demãin', sleight of hand; ted States Senate from 1791 to 1797, an artful trick. and the leader of the republican party. He was made vice-president in 1800; killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel in 1804; was tried on a charge of treasonable designs against Mexico, at Richmond, Va., in 1807, of which he was finally acquitted; and died on Staten Island, Sept. 14, 1836.

'Aaron Burr was born in Newark, N. J., February 5, 1756. His military talents secured for him the high position of lieutenant-colonel in the army of the Revolution; after which he acquired a prominent position as a great lawyer in New York, where

2. Who is Blennerhasset? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storms of his own country, to find quiet in ours. On his arrival in America, he retired, even from the population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude in the bosom of our western forests. But he brought with him taste, and science, and wealth; and "lo, the desert smiled!" Possessing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every romantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery that Shenstone' might have envied, blooms around him. Music that might have charmed Calypso' and her nymphs, is his. An extensive library spreads its treasures before him. A philosophical apparātus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature. Peace, tranquillity, and innocence, shed their mingled delights around him. And, to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of several children.

3. The evidence would convince you, Sir, that this is but a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity,-this feast of the mind, this pure banquet (bangk'wet) of the heart,-the destroyer comes. He comes to turn this paradise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach, and no monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortunate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr. Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts, by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address.

4. The conquest (kongk'wěst) was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and credulous. Conscious of no designs itself, it suspects none in others. It wears no guards before its breast. Every door and portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden when

1 William Shenstone, a pleasing writer both of prose and verse, noted for his taste in landscape-gardening, was born in Shropshire, England, in

1714, and died in 1763.


Ca lyp' so, a fabled nymph, who inhabited the island of Ogygia, on which Ulysses was shipwrecked.

the serpent entered its bowers! The prisoner, in a more engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpracticed heart of the unfortunate Blennerhasset, found but little difficulty in changing the native character of that heart, and the objects of its affections. By degrees he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into it the fire of his own coŭrage; -a daring and desperate thirst for glory; an ardor, panting for all the storm, and bustle, and hurricane of life.

5. In a short time, the whole man is changed and every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene: it has become flat and insipid to his taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are thrown ǎside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain --he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music: it longs for the trumpet's clangor, and the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him; and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with ecstacy so unspeakable, is now unfelt and unseen. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul.

6. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diädems, and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn with restlèss emulation at the names of great heroes and conquerors,-of Cromwell,' and Cæsar, and Bonaparte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a wilderness; and, in a few months, we find the tender and beautiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately "permitted not the winds" of summer "to visit too roughly,"—we find her shivering, at midnight, on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell.

7. Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness-thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace-thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another, this man, thus ruined and undone, and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason this man is to be called the principal offender; while he, by whom he was thus plunged in misery, is comparatively innocent, a mere ac'cessory! Is this reason? Is it law? Is it

1 Oliver Cromwell, a great warrior and statesman, Lord Protector of England, born April, 1599, and died September, 1659,

humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will bear a perversion so monstrous and absurd; so shocking to the soul; so revolting to reason! WIRT.

WILLIAM WIRT, an able American lawyer and miscellaneous writer, was born in Bladensburg, Maryland, November 8th, 1772. He was a private tutor at fifteen; studied law; was admitted to the bar, in his twentieth year; removed to Richmond, Virginia, where he met with eminent success in his profession, and became chancellor and district-attorney. In 1817, in the presidency of Monroe, he be came attorney-general of the United States, an office which he held for twelve years. His defense of Blennerhasset, in the famous trial of Aaron Burr fortrea son, in 1807, from which the above extract is taken, won for him a great reputation for fervid eloquence. On his retirement from office, in 1859, he took up his permanent residence at Baltimore, where he became actively engaged in the practice of the law. He was the author of the "Old Bachelor," "The British Spy," "Life of Patrick Henry," etc. He died February 18, 1834.



SCHAM. Thou art going, my dear young lady, into a most

awful state; thou art passing into matrimony and great wealth. God hath willed it: submit in thankfulness. Thy affections are rightly placed and well distributed. Love is a secondary passion in those who love most, a primary in those who love least. He who is inspired by it in a high degree, is inspired by honor in a higher; it never reaches its plentitude of growth and perfection but in the most exalted minds. Alas! alas!

Jane. What ailèth my virtuous Ascham? what is amiss? why do I tremble?

As. I remember a sort of prophecy, made three years ago: it is a prophecy of thy condition and of my feelings on it. Recollectèst thou who wrote, sitting upon the sea-beach the evening after an excursion to the Isle of Wight, these verses?—


'Invisibly bright water! so like air,

On looking down I feared thou couldst not bear

1 Roger Ascham, (ǎs' kăm), a man of great learning, the instructor of Queen Elizabeth, was born in 1515, and died in 1568.

2 Lady Jane Grey, daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, descended from the royal family of England by both parents, was born in 1537. The Duke of Northumberland having prevailed on Edward VI. to name her his suc

cessor, married his son, Lord Guilford Dudley, to her; and, the nation having declared in favor of Mary, they were both executed, after a phantom royalty of nine days, on the 12th of February, 1554. Lady Jane was only in her seventeenth year, and was remarkable for her skill in the classical, Oriental, and modern languages, and for the sweetness of her disposition.

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