tion of what he requires to form an accomplished orator, in your

self.

"With unfeigned respect and esteem,

"I am, dear sir, your affectionate friend,

"W. RAWLE.

"March 31st, 1828.

"TO DAVID PAUL BROWN, Esq."

But we have wandered from our task-let us return: At the age of fifteen, in the year 1810, the subject of this memoir lost, after a protracted illness, his devoted mother. She died, leaving him her blessing; and what was, if possible, even better, the benefits of her instruction, and the example of a life of Christian piety and practical virtue.

This was a sad blow to domestic happiness and filial hope. But though cut loose from his moorings in a mother's bosom, he, nevertheless, enjoyed the fostering care and tenderness of an affectionate father; yet who at such an age can supply a mother's, and such a mother's, loss?

The shock for a long time seemed to have paralyzed the boy. He became moody, confined himself to the house, resorted to no exercise, engaged in no amusements, moped over his books day after day, and month after month, until at length he dwindled into a mere anatomy of himself.

The father naturally became alarmed-the physician shook his head-all books were condemned-all studies prohibited; yet the prohibition only strengthened

the appetite for the forbidden fruit. At last, in order to a change of scene, it was determined that the invalid should be sent to Massachusetts, to the Rev. Dr. Daggett, a distinguished scholar, in order that he might advance himself in the knowledge of the classics.

Apparently indifferent, he bade farewell to his surviving and sorrowing parent, and took up his abode with the reverend clergyman, where he remained several years, receiving all the time his former ample pecuniary allowance. It was during this absence, while enjoying the benefits of a vacation, that he wrote the "Sandemanians," a short extract from which may be pardoned, as exhibiting his style of composition, and expressing his views at that early period, on the subject of simplicity in the worship of the Most High:—

"How great is the error of the supposition, that ornament and splendor are calculated to increase the attractions and solemnities of Religion! Never is she so impressive, so awe-inspiring, so lovelyso altogether heavenly, as when exhibited in her most artless simplicity. The work of man may be improved and adorned by the inventions of man-its defects may be concealed and its beauties heightened; but the works and emanations of the Deity are beyond the reach of human art, and are impaired in their effect in proportion as they are either decorated or disguised. Neither the sun nor the stars can ever be delineated by the most perfect artist. The works of the Almighty are not to be counterfeited-far less are the principles of Divine grace to be recommended to regard and veneration by the glare and glitter of magnificent altars, or temples towering to the skies. These are the outward habiliments and flourishes

XXXV

of piety, and not its soul; they contribute to disturb and distract, rather than to subdue and concentrate the thoughts of the worshipper; they subject man to look at his Creator, as through a glass, darkly, instead of viewing him face to face, and bowing at once in abject nothingness, before the dazzling and awful effulgence of eternal glory. I do not know that I have succeeded in these brief remarks in furnishing the reasons for a preference of unostentatious worship, but I know upon the occasion referred to, those reasons were so deeply felt as never to be forgotten."

At the expiration of his term of studies, he returned with the highest honors to his paternal home, feebler in body than at the time of his departure, but strengthened and enlarged in mind.

Upon being received into his father's arms, that tender parent, unable to subdue his emotions, exclaimed, "My dear boy, you are reduced to a skeleton." "Yes, father," returned the boy, "but you will, I hope, find that in one sense I am much more substantial than when I left you;"-of course referring to the improvement of his mind.

Everything was again made tributary to his comfort. He had his horses at command, but never rode; was visited by others, but rarely went into society; rose early; retired invariably before ten o'clock; and lived in the most frugal and abstemious manner in the midst of luxury.

Having now reached his seventeenth year, it became necessary that he should make choice of a profession.

He seemed rather inclined to the law, (being at that early age a ready declaimer,) but so indifferent was his choice, that he at once relinquished it in favor of medicine, at the mere suggestion of his father; and was accordingly introduced to Dr. Benjamin Rush, as his pupil.

This was an unlucky choice of a profession. Nothing is more pernicious to a feeble and nervous frame, than the study of disease. We are apt to imagine that we are afflicted with almost all the physical ills that "flesh is heir to." Hypochondria not unfrequently is the result; and in the preparatory effort to cure others, we often destroy ourselves. Like a confirmed dyspeptic, we most crave the very food, that most contributes to perpetuate or strengthen our complaint.

In about six months the student was reduced to the condition of an almost hopeless patient; but how eventful is life! Just at this time,* full of age and honor, Dr. Rush died, and as the attachment was rather to the physician than the science, an entire revolution in the career of our subject was at once produced. Prior to this, some doubts of the propriety of the selection glanced into the father's mind. Now these doubts worked an entire change.

The pupil was at once withdrawn from the science

* Dr. Benjamin Rush died 19th of April, 1813, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.

of physiology and pathology, and his original inclination to the law having been somewhat strengthened, he was placed under the instruction and in the office of one of the most distinguished lawyers in the Union, the late William Rawle, a man at that time of princely fortune, and whose fame was co-extensive with the country.

It is unnecessary to carry our reader through a law student's studies. Let it suffice, that for the first year our student read for twelve hours a day. After that time, by the advice of his preceptor, he reduced the time to eight hours, and finally settled down upon six hours. He, in addition to this, regularly attended the courts for several hours in the day, during the last two years of his novitiate, and thereby became not only familiar with the usual form of business, but was better acquainted with the former and elder members of the bar, than most members of the legal profession, who were many years his senior. Indeed, his intercourse was chiefly with the aged men of the profession-Lewis, Ingersoll, Tilghman, Dallas, Binney and Sergeant, were then in their full vigor, and he enjoyed the benefits of their forensic example; and truly the country never witnessed a more glorious example.

In the latter part of the year 1815, a year before the termination of his course of study, a second shaft from the insatiate archer deprived him of his father,