allibility of his own sect to obscure the real dignity of racter of the Puritans. We may lament their errors; I regret their prejudices; we may pity their infirmities; 7 smile at the stress laid by them on petty observances fling forms. We may believe that their piety was up with too much gloom and severity; that it was nes darkened by superstition, and sometimes degraded ticism; that it shut out too much the innocent pleaslife, and enforced too strictly a discipline, irksome, ss and oppressive; that it was sometimes over rigid, t might have been indulgent; stern, when it might en affectionate; pertinacious, when concession would een just, as well as graceful; and flashing with fiery en charity demanded moderation, and ensured peace. is, and much more, may be admitted, for they were n, frail, fallible men,-and yet leave behind solid upon the reverence and admiration of mankind. Of may be said, with as much truth as of any men, that er lived, that they acted up to their principles, and I them out with an unfaltering firmness. They disat all times, a downright honesty of heart and purpose. licity of life, in godly sincerity, in temperance, in and in patience, as well as in zeal, they seemed to o the apostolical age.

- wisdom, while it looked on this world, reached far it in its aim and objects. They valued earthly puro farther than they were consistent with religion. the temptations of human grandeur, they stood ununshaken, unseduced. Their scruples of conscience, Sometimes betrayed them into difficulty, never betrayinto voluntary sin. They possessed a moral courage, poked present dangers in the face, as though they were or doubtful, seeking no escape, and indulging no

n, in defence of their faith, of what they deemed pure defiled religion, we see them resign their property, eferments, their friends and their homes; when we submitting to banishment, and ignominy, and even when we see them in foreign lands, on inhospitable n the midst of sickness and famine, in desolation

disaster, still true to themselves, still confident in God's
vidence, still submissive to his chastisements, still thankful
his blessings, still ready to exclaim, in the language of
ipture, "We are troubled on every side, yet not dis-
sed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted,
not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;" when we
such things, where is the man, whose soul does not melt
in him at the sight? Where shall examples be sought
found more full, to point out what Christianity is, and
t it ought to accomplish?

What better origin could we desire, than from men of
racters like these? Men, to whom conscience was every
g, and worldly prosperity nothing. Men, whose thoughts
onged to eternity rather than to time. Men, who, in the
r prospect of their sacrifices, could say, as our forefathers
say, "When we are in our graves, it will be all one,
ether we have lived in plenty or in penury; whether we
e died in a bed of down, or locks of straw. Only this is
advantage of the mean condition, THAT IT IS A MORE
EDOM TO DIE. And the less comfort any have in the
gs of this world, the more liberty they have to lay up
sure in heaven." Men, who, in answer to the objection,
ed by the anxiety of friendship, that they might perish by
way, or by hunger or the sword, could answer, as our
fathers did, "We may trust God's providence for these
gs.
Either he will keep these evils from us, or will
pose them for our good, and enable us to bear them."
n, who, in still later days, in their appeal for protection to
throne, could say, with pathetic truth and simplicity, as
forefathers did, "That we might enjoy divine worship
out human mixtures, without offence to God, man, our
consciences, with leave, but not without tears, we departed
n our country, kindred, and fathers' houses into this Pat-
; in relation whereunto we do not say, Our garments are
ome old, by reason of the very long journey, but that
selves, who came away in our strength, are, by reason of
absence, many of us become gray-headed, and some of
tooping for age."

f these be not the sentiments of lofty virtue; if they
the not the genuine spirit of Christianity; if they speak

1

approaches towards moral perfection; if they possess nduring sublimity; then, indeed, have I ill read the heart; then, indeed, have I strangely mistaken the ons of religion. If men like these can be passed indifference, because they wore not the princely - the sacred lawn, because they shone not in courts, ed in fashionable circles; then, indeed, is Christian ain shadow, and human virtue a dream, about which iet ourselves in vain.

is not so-it is not so. There are those around me, earts beat high, and whose lips grow eloquent, when mbrance of such ancestors comes over their thoughts; ey read in their deeds, not the empty forms, but the of holy living and holy dying. Time was, when the of war, the heroes of many battles, the conquerors ns, the men who waded through slaughter to thrones, is whose footsteps were darkened with blood, and tred oppressors of the earth, were alone deemed hemes for the poet and the orator, for the song of trel, and the hosannas of the multitude. Time was, ats of arms, and tournaments, and crusades, and the ay of chivalry, and the pride of royal banners waving y, engrossed all minds.

was, when the ministers of the altar sat down by the he tyrant, and numbered his victims, and stimulated cutions, and screened the instruments of his crimes; e was praise, and glory, and revelry, for these Murder and rapine, burning cities and desolated f they were at the bidding of royal or baronial d on by the courtier or the clan, were matters of past, the delight of courts, and the treasured pleasure ireside tales. But these times have passed away. ity has resumed her meek and holy reign. The have not lived in vain. The simple piety of the of New England casts into shade this false glitter, azzled and betrayed men into the worship of their

rs.

LESSON XCII.

The Coming of the Pilgrims.*-W. SULLIVAN.

【ERE begins that vast wilderness, which no civilized man beheld. Whither does it extend, and what is contained in its unmeasured limits? Through what thousands of s has it undergone no change, but in the silent movets of renovation and decay? To how many vernal ons has it unfolded its leaves;-to how many autumnal Es has it yielded its verdure? This unvaried solitude! at has disturbed its tranquillity, through uncounted ages, the rising of the winds, or the rending of the storms? at sounds have echoed through its deep recesses, but those raving and of rage from the beasts which it shelters, or war-song and the war-whoop of its sullen, smileless mas? Man, social, inventive, improving man,-his footstep, handiwork, are nowhere discerned. The beings, who r his form, have added nothing to knowledge, through all generations. Like the game which they pursue, they the same now, which their progenitors were when their = began.

"hese distant and widely separated columns of smoke, throw their graceful forms towards the sky, indicate no al, no domestic abodes. The snows have descended to er the fallen foliage of the departed year; the winds pass, a mournful sound, through the leafless branches; the an has retired to his dark dwelling; and the tenants of forest have hidden themselves in the earth, to escape the ch of winter.

'his ocean, that spreads out before us!-how many of its ntain waves rise up between us and the abodes of civilmen! Its surges break and echo on this lonely shore, hey did when the storms first waked them from their

Extracted from a Discourse delivered at Plymouth, Dec. 22, 1829.-In the tions quoted above, the author goès back, in imagination, to the time New England was first settled, and "stands upon the shore which the pil= were approaching."

thout having brought, or carried, any work of human unless it be the frail canoe, urged on by hunger or

How appalling is this solitude of the wilderness! eerless this wide waste of waters, on which nothing

v object rises to our view! It is that proud result of genius, which finds its way where it leaves no trace yet connects the severed continents of the globe. of human beings of a complexion unknown in this nt clime. They come from a world skilled in the rts. Are they adventurers, thirsting for gain, or in these unexplored regions, new gifts for the of science? Their boats are filled; they touch the They are followed by tender females, and more tender ; such beings as a wild desert never before received. ommence the making of habitations. They disemir goods.

they abandoned their returning ship? Are they to er, in their frail tenements, the winter's tempest and umulating snows? Do they know, that these dark through which even the winds come not without nd terrifying sound, is the home of the savage, whose npting is to destroy that he may rob? Do they know case must be the inmate of their dwellings in their exposure? If the savage, if disease, selects no will famine stay its merciless hand? Do they know wly the forest yields to human industry? Do they now long, how lonesome, how perilous it will be to le group, before want can be supplied and security ? Can they have come, voluntarily, to encounter unavoidable evils? Have they given up their native eir precious homes, their kind friends, their kindred, fort and the fellowship of civilized and polished life? he evidence of affectionate solicitude of husbands, of tenderness of parents, or the sad measure of disteminds? Wherefore are they come? What did they hat did they fear, what do they expect, or hope, that e chosen exile HERE, and to become the watchful t of the treacherous Indian?