him superiority, and is among the most wonderful of the works of God on earth. It contributes to cause, as well as prove, his elevated rank in creation. His port is erect, his face towards heaven, and he is furnished with limbs which are at once powerful, flexible, capable of innumerable modes and varieties of action, and terminated by an instrument of wonderful, heavenly workmanship- the human hand. This marvellous physical conformation gives man the power of acting with great effect upon external objects, in pursuance of the suggestions of his understanding, and of applying the results of his reasoning power to his own purposes. Without this peculiar formation, he would not be man, with whatever sagacity he might be endowed. No bounteous grant of intellect, were it the pleasure of Heaven to make such grant, could raise any of the brute creation to an equality with the human race. Were it bestowed on the leviathan, he must remain, nevertheless, in the element where he alone could maintain his physical existence. He would still be but the inelegant, misshapen inhabitant of the ocean, "wallowing unwieldy in his gait." Were the elephant made to possess it, it would but teach him the deformity of his own structure; the unloveliness of his frame, though "the hugest of things;" his disability to act on external matter; and the degrading nature of his own physical wants, which lead him to the deserts, and give him for his favorite home the torrid plains of the tropics. It was placing the king of Babylon sufficiently out of the rank of human beings, though he carried all his reasoning faculties with him, when he was sent away to eat grass, like the ox. And this may suggest to our consideration, what is undeniably true, that there is hardly a greater blessing conferred on man than his natural wants. If he had wanted no more than the beasts, who can say how much more than they he would have attained? Does he associate? does he culti vate? does he build? does he navigate? The original impulse to all these lies in his wants. It proceeds from the necessities of his condition, and from the efforts of unsatisfied desire. Every want, not of a low kind, physical as well as moral. which the human breast feels, and which brutes do not feel, and cannot feel, raises man by so much in the scale of existence, and is a clear proof, and a direct instance, of the favor of God towards his so much favored human offspring. If man had been so made as to have desired nothing, he would have wanted almost every thing worth possessing. WEBSTER. DISTINCTION; that by which one differs from another, superiority, discrimination. CAPACITY; power of holding, ability. RESPONSIBLE; answerable, accountable. ORGANIZATION; regular construction of parts, organical structure. FLEXIBLE; pliant, supple. CONFORMATION; structure. PURSUANCE; prosecution. SAGACITY; penetration, quick discernment. GRANT; thing granted, gift. LEVIATHAN; a great marine animal, mentioned in the book of Job, by some supposed to be the crocodile, by some the whale, and by others an animal now extinct. WIELDY; unmanageable, ponderous, clumsy. GAIT; manner of walking, bearing, carriage. TORRID; dried with heat, violently hot. UNDENIA BLY; so plainly as to admit no contradiction. UN THE LAST MINSTREL. AND OLD; Sound the d in and, and do not blend the two words. WITHERED; er as in her, not withud. HARP; sound rp. TUNEFUL; long u in tune, not oo. BRETHREN; give e its short sound; do not call it bruthrin. THE way was long, the wind was cold; The minstrel was infirm and old; The harp, his sole remaining joy, The last of all the bards was he, For, well-a-day! their date was fled; Old times were changed, old manners gone With hesitating step, at last, Th' embattled portal-arch he passed, For she had known adversity, When kindness had his wants supplied, Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He could make music to her ear. The humble boon was soon obtained; The pitying duchess praised its chime Was blended into harmony; n 264. e 241. And then, he said, he would full fain He never thought to sing again. And much he wished, yet feared, to try Amid the strings his fingers strayed, And oft he shook his hoary head; In varying cadence, soft or strong, "Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native land!' Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand ? 'If such there breathe, go, mark him well; |