ment; fond of dogs in general, for their fidelity, these two were his playthings and favourites. When he was seated with his books, one of these huge animals was usually found at his feet, waiting for the kind notice he was always sure to receive. The amor patriæ was with him a strong sentiment. He loved to observe the rising greatness of our country, her progress in the arts and sciences, and was a lenient judge, and patron of her literature. It was under a sense of the many advantages and blessings which we enjoy as a nation, that he says, in one of his youthful essays— "Reflect, Columbians, to your God What thanks, what heartfelt thanks are due; While others feel his chastening rod, His choicest gifts are showered on you.” In thirty years he had not even visited Philadelphia, nor in that space of time had he been perhaps more than fifteen miles beyond his own domain, and then only when business, sometimes of a public nature, called him; for he not only contributed to the public benefit from his purse, but often gave his personal attention, on different services, for the city and county in which he resided. A strict regard for truth, in the minutest particular, was a striking trait in his character. In his view, no embellishments of fancy, nor the wit or humour of any jest in conversation, furnished the least apology for its slightest violation. With habitual care on this point, he was scrupulously exact in the performance of every promise, whether expressed or only implied. This practice embraced small things as well as great; acting upon the principle of "putting not off till tomorrow, that which should be done to-day," his nice sense of rectitude prompted him punctually to discharge every kind of debt, whether small or great, as early as practicable after it was due, to those who were constantly in his employ as well as to others. Of care in this respect, he was remarked as a singular example. He had beautified his grounds with shrubbery and flowers, in which he took much pleasure, contemplating them with the eye, and the mind, of a poet and a christian. Gardening, he thought, might not inaptly be termed the "poetry of farming." His large flock of poultry of various kinds, with the gay plumage of the peacock interspersed, contributed to cheer the winter scene. These, knowing the hand that fed them, assembled round him morning and evening for their bountiful supply of grain. And he has even been accused of feeding the poor famished crows, in the severity of winter, forgiving their summer depredations on his corn fields. His poultry, so cared for in life, he humanely endeavoured to save from unnecessary pain in death; and in order to effect this as speedily as possible, he always caused their heads to be taken off, rather than incur the risk of protracted suffering for them, by taking their lives according to the usual method. His constitution continued firm, and his activity unimpaired, till within a year or two of his decease, when his health began visibly to decline; and when the undeniable messenger arrived, in a deeply humbling sense of his own nothingness he expressed his only hope and trust in the mercy of God, through his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, whose supporting arm was evidently underneath, and sustained him in quietness of soul during the conflict of expiring nature. Although, with characteristic diffidence, he spoke little of himself, his business in this world was finished; and so entirely resigned was his will to that of his Heavenly Father, that, as he expressed to his sorrowing attendants, "he dared not pray for life or death;" and with a mind clear and unclouded he breathed his last, in sweet calmness and peace, on the fourteenth of the eleventh month, 1835, in the 64th year of his age, leaving many to mourn the loss of a generous friend and benefactor. The miscellaneous essays which form the present collection, were written at the solicitation of friends, or for the amusement of a leisure hour. Some of them were never before published—some, not intended for publication, found their way to the press without his knowledge. And those which were written for that purpose, were scattered, by their author, without a name, in the periodical papers of the day. He wrote with ease and rapidity, but, with true modesty, he was a severe critic on the productions of his own pen, and consigned them to the flames with little mercy; never preserving the manuscripts, even of those which were given to the world. They were written, neither for profit nor for fame, but in the humble hope that the lessons of morality and religion, which are inculcated in most of them, might awaken in the reader some serious thought. His character is indeed so truly delineated in his writings, as to render any other description of him almost superfluous. POEMS AND ESSAYS. AN INDIAN ECLOGUE. Scene-The Banks of the Ohio. Time-Morning. Scarce had the morn her orient course begun, "With love of glory would the chiefs inflame My breast, and lead me to the field of fame : In vain, with glee, they show their scalps and scars, The glorious trophies of their former wars; On me their praises and reproofs are lost, No flame but love, but scorching love, I boast; |