curse instead of a blessing, and exemplified the truth of the declaration- Them that honour me I will honour; but they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed." And it should teach us that the fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom :' and that 'the knowledge of the HOLY is understanding.'*

*

With what astonishment has the late suicide of Lord Castlereagh-then the Marquis of Londonderry-filled the thinking part of the community! That a Senator with a head so cool, passions so well governed, political wisdom so profound,-who had attained the highest honours of the state, had gained the utmost confidence of his Sovereign, had been employed to adjust the balance of the civilized world-should be reduced, by care and anxieties, or by vexation and opposition, to such mental imbecility, that in a moment of irritation he should plunge a penknife into the jugular artery, and pour forth his life in an instant-proves that the highest prudence does not secure us always from the most abject folly, nor the loftiest talents raise us above the commission of the lowest deeds; and that science and fame, wealth and honours, are unable of themselves to inspire us with patience, fortitude, and trust in Providence. Such instances should teach us the supereminent value of religious prin* Sam. ii. 32.

+ Prov. ix. 10.

ciples, and preserve to us the lesson of inspiration: Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom; let not the rich man glory in his riches; let not the strong man glory in his strength; let not the mighty man glory in his might: but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he knoweth the LORD, who exerciseth judgment and mercy.'*

Life is the gift of God: the Sovereign of the universe hath committed it to us to be employed for his glory, or to be endured, in submission to his will, till be recall it, and crown us with his approbation. Shall we rashly throw it away? Howeverafflictive be our lot, the crucible of affliction is intended to refine us for another and a better world: but how seldom is this thought of in this thoughtless and infidel age! It would astonish any one who has not examined the subject to trace the number of suicides which every weekly paper details. Upon a calculation, made in the year 1790, by the Rev. Charles Moore, A. M. Vicar of Caxton, Kent, who wrote two quarto volumes on this subject, it appears that, of the number of suicides in all England, on whose bodies inquisitions have been taken, and the verdict of lunacy or felo de se found, from the proportion of its inhabitants to those of Kent, they amounted, then, to no less a total than one thou sand every year, independent of those whose bodies

*Jerem. ix. 23.

are never brought before a coroner at all, or who have been sheltered from public notoriety under the verdict of accidental death. This is reckoning six millions of inhabitants in England, after those o London and Kent-which, at that period, was reckoned about one million-are deducted. The author then supposed that they were much increasing all over Kent, London, and the kingdom. I fear the supposition has been too awfully verified. In this ominous month of November I have counted a long list of no less than about half a score suicides in one weekly paper.

'November hears the dismal sound,

As, slow advancing from the Pole,
He leads the months their wintry round.
The black'ning clouds attendant roll

Where frown a giant band-the sons of care,
Dark thoughts, presages fell, and comfortless despair.

O'er Britain's isle they spread their wings,
And shades of death dismay the land;
November wide his mantle flings,

And, lifting high his vengeful hand,

Hurls down the demon Spleen, with powers combin'd
To check the springs of life, and crush th' enfeebled mind.

This drear dominion he maintains
Beneath a cold inclement sky,

While noxious fogs and drizzling rains

On Nature's sick'ning bosom lie;

The op'ning rose of youth untimely fades,

And Hope's fair friendly light beams dimly thro' the shades.'

The atmosphere may becloud the mind, and injure the health; but more people fall a sacrifice to fashion, and foul tempers and infidelity, than to foul air. But in the gloomy month of November, especially if we feel dejected, we

Blame the weather for the disorder of our nerves.' It must be acknowledged that the diseased apprehensions of an invalid are relieved or aggravated by the changes of the weather: when the sun shines even his mind seems to be irradiated by its influence, and scarcely a cloud can obscure the face of Nature, without, at the same time, casting a melancholy shade over his speculations. For this purpose I have often noticed, with pleasure, as I passed along through Staffordshire to London, a lunatic asylum situated on the edge of a sweet solitary valley, on a rising ground, with a fountain playing in prospect of it, in a little dingle sloping down gradually to the road; the soothing sound of which, and the green prospects of hill and dale, pastures and corn-fields, must much tend to produce that calm repose which the agitated minds and shaken nerves of the patients so much require.

In these sentiments I am confirmed by the following most beautiful delineation from the hand of that enthusiastic admirer of grand and tranquil nature, Zimmerman :

The touching aspect of delightful nature, the variegated verdure of the forests, the noise of an impetuous torrent, the quivering motion of the foliage, the harmony of the groves, and an extensive prospect, ravish the soul so entirely, and absorb in such a manner all our faculties, that the thoughts of the mind are instantly converted into sensations of the heart. The view of an agreeable landscape excites the softest emotions, and gives birth to pleasing and virtuous sentiments: all this is produced by the charms of imagination.

The imagination spreads a touching and seductive charm over every object, provided we are surrounded by freedom and tranquillity. A religious horror and soft raptures are alternately excited by the deep gloom of forests, by the tremendous height of broken rocks, and by the multiplicity of sublime and majestic objects which present themselves to our view on the delightful site of a smiling landscape. There are no sensations, however painful, which are not vanquished by these serious but agreeable emotions, and by those soft reveries to which the surrounding tranquillity invites the mind. The solitude of retirement and the awful silence of all nature impress an idea of the happy contrast between simplicity and grandeur.