The knowledge of different languages is aot barely the giving different names to the same object, which would be of little moment, but as the mode of conception and expression in different languages, being that which constitutes their peculiar idiom, is extremely different, the study of languages enlarges our knowledge of the human mind, and acquaints us with the principles of universal grammar, which are of large extent and apply to every language, so that in studying a foreign tongue, we learn to understand our own. Quintilian accordingly informs us, that the Romans studied the Greek tongue before the Latin, and among us, those who have the best knowledge of foreign langages, are likewise the best judges of English. Some have said, indeed, that there have been men very learned in foreign languages, who were unacquainted with their own; but such learned men, if such there are, must have studied under bad masters, or have been very unsuccessful in their studies, as good masters would have taught them the difference of the idiom of the languages they studied from that of their own, to say nothing of the impossibility of understanding a foreign language without being able to render it properly and readily into our native tongue.

Indeed, something like an instance of the kind alleged may seem to be contained in what Mr. Bayle relates of the famous Budaus. After acquainting us with his knowledge of the Latin tongue, evinced by the learned treatises he had composed in that language, he inserts a French letter of the same authour, which is so mean, heavy, and inferiour to any French compositions of the same age, as to satisfy us, that Budæus, at least, had forgot his native tongue, while he excelled in the knowledge of others. But as he began his studies late in life, studied in private, and had no master, nothing prejudicial to the doctrine we have advanced can be inferred from this particular instance.

Perhaps all the objections against a classical education are founded on the examples of those, who have never properly received such an education, but have only trifled away their youthful years in the places where others received it. The length of the time, which is sometimes required to attain it, may discourage many, who could not conceive an object deserving of so much study, and the little sense which the generality of youths bave of its importance, prevents them from using that diligence and application, which is necessary to insure success, so that we need not wonder at their disappointment in a pursuit, which they could never be properly said to have begun.

Besides the knowledge of language, and the improvement of the faculties of the mind, acquired in the study of it, the attentive clas.

sical scholar, by entering into the spirit of the authours he converses with, improves in reason and good sense, and the knowledge of men and manners. It is ridiculous to pretend, as some have done, that the know. ledge of the world is not to be acquired from books, but by actual conversation with men of various ranks and characters. This notion, however fashionable, is entirely contrary to truth. Nothing can be derived from the most extensive experience and acquaintance with men, which cannot be communicated by writing in a much more brief and easy manner. The wise men of antiquity have actually left us the fruit of their long experience, so that we may acquire in a few days or hours, all the wisdom and knowledge of mankind that cost them all their lives in acquiring. The experience of the most of men must be confined to their own country and their own age; whereas, in books, we can converse with the most eminent men of all ages and countries with little trouble, expense, or danger. If a student employ his time well, and exercise his faculties properly, he may attain to much more knowledge of the world, both of men and things, than could be attained by the most extensive and intelligent traveller in real life. Nay, his knowledge must as far excel that of the traveller, in every sense, as that of Ulysses, who had visited the cities and known the manners of many nations, excelled the knowledge of Telemachus, who had conversed only with his own mother and his family.

Perhaps a defect of imagination and exact attention is the chief reason why many students get so little knowledge from so extensive opportunities as a classical education affords. They do not consider what they are doing, or what sort of people they are conversing with, in the authours they pretend to study. They do not figure to their minds the scenes in which these great men acted, their situation and rank in life, the difficulties they had to encounter, the character and maxims of the ages in which they lived, the state of knowledge in their times, and the difficulty of attaining and preserving it the education they had received, theirnotions of excellence, and the models on which they endeavoured to form themselves. And it is evident, that unless we consider these things, we can neither judge of the strength of their faculties, the propriety of their sentiments, nor the success of their study and application. The difficulties which some find in understanding their language, render them inattentive to the justness and dignity of their sentiments, the propriety of their expressions, and the strength and elevation of their minds. It is no wonder that students should contract no dignity of thought and expression, no gene. rous ambition, or love of excellence from the conversation of the greatest men of antiqui

ty, when their attention goes no further than the mere words, and the rules of construction necessary to be attended to in putting them in order. If we do not suppose ourselves in the authour's place, and figure to ourselves the scene in which he acted, we can profit no more in conversing with the most eminent, than with the most trifling characters.

St. Augustine wished to have seen Rome in all its glory, and to have conversed with the most eminent men of that Republick, which, from small beginnings, rose to be the wonder, the terrour, and the mistress of the world. But though his wish had been granted, he could not have kuown more than we may yet learn from those, who had that advantage, and who were undoubtedly more able to describe it to us than we could be to observe it ourselves, even though we had that opportunity, which the Saint wished for

The surviving friends and compatriots of the late celebrated Robert Burns, continue to commemorate his birthday, in his native Cottage, where verses in imitation of his manner are always expected from some of the company, on the occasion. On the 19th of July, 1895 when a numerous and respectable company were assembled, the following Verses were produced by the Rev. Hamil on Pau! who formerly had gratified kindred affection in the same way. Q.

The Lark up springing from the dewy lawn, Mounts Ligh and higher still, to meet the dawn,

And as he floats the fleecy clouds among,
Regales his partner with his matin song.
Meanwhile reclining on the bed of love,
She bids her sons regard their sire above;
And tells that they shall soon extend the
wing,

Like nim shall learn to soar, like him to sing.
Thus emulation animates the young,

Aids the first warblings of the tuneful tongue, Bids fancy glow, and the warm soul inspires, With all the Lover's, all the Poet's fires. Thus Coila's lark near Doon's meand'ring tide,

First treads the mead, by modest daisies pied, His new fledged pinion, next he trembling tries,

Gains, by degrees, possession of the skies. And Heav'nward urging his unwearied flight,

Is lost to vulgar view amid the blaze of light,

Happy could I ascend on equal wing,
And soaring high, with equal vigour sing.
Then Doon should roll more rapidly his foods,
Ayr, more majestick wander through his
woods,

Beloved streams; where'er my footsteps

those who merited it, experienced a friendship, not capricious, nor cool, but warm, and sincere, uniform and lasting.

Her imagination, fertile and inquisitive, was ever on the wing. The legends of love, and the romantick fictions of our pocts ever found in her an attentive listner. She delighted in the wild song, which erstwhile had cheered the savage in his pathless wanderings, or greeted him at eventime, after the labours of the chace, before Polity, sedate, and sage, had tamed the excursive fancy, and quenched the fondness for a rambling life.

Her heart was alive to the softest touches of harmony, and she had a tear for the tale of wo, when it stole upon her willing ear. Such was Myrylla; even now I see her, lovely, meek, and amiable, such as I first knew her. In her manners, free, without familiarity; dignified, but not haughty in her conversation, easy, without levity, and sensible, without pedantry.

Need I add, that beauty so attractive, loveliness so seducing, accomplishments so ornamental, excited my admiration, and soon won my warmest love. I was in the spring of life. The vernal glow of Hope was mine, and Fancy, elate, and gay, gilded the prospect, which a disposition naturally sanguine had delighted to contemplate. My patrimony was small, but it was sufficiently ample for one whose ambition was not to be diverted from its pursuits by slight obstacles, whose desires were restrained by content, and whose industry could be stimulated to every exertion, when animated by the smiles of her who should bestow its reward. I did not affect to conceal the ardent wishes of my soul. My hopes and fears were expressed in an ode in the Dorick measure. my first attempt to soar into the regions of poetry, since I had received the lessons of Anacreon; and if the grandeur of the subject be remembered, the youthful Muse certainly winged a daring flight.

It was

TO MYRILLA.

Myrilla, by the gods above,
I yield to thee my warmest love,
And should thy wishes make thee mine,
I never will be aught but thine.
'Tis not thine eyes of azure blue,
Nor yet thy cheeks of roses' hue:
Nor is it thy commanding mien,
In conscious innocence, serene,
That hath so won my soul:
But 'tis thy finely polished mind,
Among the loveliest of its kind,
Like Vesper, at the eve of day,
When Sol emits his latest ray,

That doth my heart control.

Queen of the stars is Venus named,
Fairest of Nymphs Myrilla's famed:
Venus illumes the heavenly sphere,
Myrilla shines without compeer.

Teach me, ye gods, some happy art
To win the fair Myrilla's heart:
Else, with the gloomy shades receive
The youth, whom Love forbids to live.
There, too, her magick power I'd feel,
And, spite of frown or angry steel-
'Lured from my rest by her sweet strain,
My shade would rise to life again.

Then take, oh take my proffered love-
Witness, ye gods, who rule above:
And be thou ever only mine,
And I'll be ever only thine.

When I had finished, I sighed at observing how inadequately I had expressed the fervour of my feelings. So far was I from blushing at my passion, that I gloried in the indulgence of it. I was pleased to find that I had a heart susceptible of the finest emotion of which our nature is capable; and I was proud of the selection that it had made. Myrilla, so accomplished and beautiful, would have reflected honour on the homage of any man; and in proportion to the purity of his affection, would be the increase of his virtue, and the refinement of his manners, Such is the power of Love. His plastick hand moulds the most rugged and softens the ferocious. He banishes every vitious propensity, by offering a reward to sincerity, which can only be attained by habits of virtue, temperance, and urbanity.

But the fear that Myrilla wo uld not deem me worthy of the high ho