carcasses-worms

little fortune-the world cannot cure me- -I must die--it is not a preacher—it is not a religous book—it is not a trifling declaimerit is death itself that preacheth to me-I feel, I know not what, shivering cold in my blood-I am in a dying sweat-my feet, my hands, every part of my body is wasted-I am more like a corpse than a living body-I am rather dead than alive-I must die— Whither am I going? What will become of me? What will become of my body? My God! what a frightful spectacle! I see it! the horrible torches-the dismal shroud-the coffin-the pallthe tolling bell-the subterranean abodeputrefaction-what will become of my soul? I am ignorant of its destiny- I am tumbling headlong into eternal night-my infidelity tells me, my soul is nothing but a portion of subtile matter—another world a vision-immortality a fancy-But yet, I feel, I know not what, that troubles my infidelity-annihilation, terrible as it is, would appear tolerable to me, were not the ideas of heaven and hell to present themselves to me, in spite of myself—But I see that heaven, that immortal mansion of glory shut against me—I see it at an immense distance—I see it a place, which my crimes forbid me to enter-I see a hell-hell, which I have ridiculed-it opens under my feet-I hear the horrible groans of the damned-the smoke of the bottomless pit chokes my words, and wraps my thoughts in suffocating darkness.”

Such is the infidel on a dying bed. This is not an imaginary flight: it is not an arbitrary invention, it is a description of what we see every day in the fatal visits to which our ministry engageth us, and to which God seems to call us to be sorrowful witnesses of his displeasure and vengeance. This is what infidelity comes to. This is what infidelity is good for. Thus most sceptics die, although, while they live, they pretend to free them from vulgar errors. I ask again, what charms are there in a state that hath such dreadful consequences? How is it possible for men, rational men, to carry their madness to such an excess?

SAURIN.

REMARKABLE FAULTS OF BAD SPEAKERS.

LUDOVICUS CRESOLLIUS, a Jesuit of Brittanny, who wrote a treatise upon the perfect action and pronunciation of an orator, published in Paris in 1620, gives the following description of the delivery of a public speaker, whose style was polished and whose composition was learned.

"When he turned himself to the left, he spoke a few words accompanied by a moderate gesture of the hand, then bending to the right, he acted the same part over again; then back again to the left, and presently to the right, almost at an equal and measured interval of time, he worked himself up to his usual gesture, and his one kind of movement; you could compare him only to the blindfolded Babylonian oxen going forward and returning back by the same path." The Jesuit was so disgusted, that he shut his eyes, but even so he could not get over the disagreeable impression of the speaker's manner. He concludes, "I therefore give judgment against, and renounce all such kind of orators." In another place he has made an enumeration of the most remarkable faults of bad speakers, it is peculiarly spirited and characteristic.

"Some hold their heads immoveable, and turned to one side, as if they were made of horn; others stare with their eyes as horribly, as if they intended to frighten every one; some are twisting their inouths continually, and working their chins while speaking, as if, at all times, they were cracking nuts; some, like the apostate Julian, breathe insult, express in their countenance contempt and impudence. Others, as if they personate the fictitious heroes in a tragedy, gape enormously, and extend their jaws as widely as if they were going to swallow up every body; above all, when they bellow with fury, they scatter their foam about and threaten with contracted brow and eyes like Saturn.

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'These, as if they were playing some game, are continually making motions with their fingers, and by the extraordinary working of their hands, endeavour to form in the air, I may almost say, all the figures of the mathematics. Those, on the contrary, have hands

sú ponderous and so fastened down by terror, that they could more easily move beams of timber; others labor so with their elbows, that it is evident, either that they had been formerly shoemakers themselves, or had lived in no other society but that of cobblers. Some are so unsteady in the motions of their bodies, that they seem to be speaking out of a cock-boat; others again are so unwieldy and uncouth in their motions, that you would think them to be sacks of tow painted to look like men. I have seen some who jumped on the platform, and capered nearly in measure: men that exhibited the fuller's dance, and, as the old poet says, expressed their wit with their feet. But who in a short compass is able to enumerate all the faults of bad gesture, and all the absurdities of bad delivery?"

CRESOLLIUS.

CHATHAM.

TALENTS, (whenever they have had a suitable theatre, have never failed (to emerge from obscurity, \and assume their proper rank in › <the estimation of the world The jealous pride of power may attempt to repress and crush them; the base and malignant rancor 1 of impotent spleen and envy may strive to embarrass and retard their flight; but these efforts, (So far from achieving their ignoble purpose, so far from producing a discernible obliquity in the ascent of gen( uine and vigorous talents will serve only to increase their momentum, and mark their transit with an additional stream of glory✈

.

When Chatham first made his appearance in the House of Commons, and began to astonish and transport the British Parliament and the British Nation, by the boldness the force, and range of his thoughts, and the celestial fire, and pathos of his eloquence it is well known that the minister, Walpole, and his brother Horace, (from motives very easily understood,)exerted(all their wit, all their oratory, all their acquirements of every description, sustained and enforced by the unfeeling insolence of office,) to heave a mountain on his gigantic genius, and hide it from the world.-Poor and

powerless attempt!The tables were turned. He rose upon them, (in the might and irresistible energy of his genius) and in spite of all their convulsions, frantic agonies, and spasms, he strangled them and their whole faction, with as much ease as Hercules did the serpent Python!

Who can turn over the debates of the day, and read the account of this conflict between youthful ardor and hoary-headed cunning/ and power, without kindling in the cause of the tyro, and shouting at his victory? That they should have attempted to pass off the grand, (yet solid and judicious operations of a mind like his, as being mere theatrical start and emotion(the giddy, hair-brained eccentricities of a romantic boy That they should have had the presumption to suppose themselves capable of chaining down to the floor of parliament, a genius so etherial towering and sublime,) seems unaccountable! Why did they not, in the next breath by way of crowning the climax of vanity, bid the magnificent fire-ball / to descend from its exalted and appropriate region) and perform its splendid tour along the surface of the earth?

י,

Talents which are before the public, have nothing to dread either from the jealous pride of power, or from the transient misrepresentations of party spleen, or envy. In spite of opposition from any cause, their buoyant spirit will lift them to their proper grade. The man who comes fairly before the world, and who possesses) the great and vigorous stamina which entitle him to a niche in the (temple of glory) has no reason to dread the ultimate result Chowever slow his progress may be, he will, in the end, most indubitably receive that distinction, while the rest, the swallows of science the butterflies of genius, may flutter for their spring; but they will soon pass away, and be remembered no more. No enterprising man therefore and least of all, the truly great man, Jhas reason to droop or repine at any efforts which he may suppose to be made with the view to depress him. Let, then, the tempest of envy/or of malice howl around him. His genius will consecrate him ; and any attempt to extinguish that, will be as unavailing, as would a human effort to quench the stars.

WIRT.

THE CHARACTER OF FOX.

CHARLES JAMES Fox excelled all his contemporaries in the extent of his knowledge, in the clearness and distinctness of his views, in quickness of apprehension, in plain, practical common sense, in the full, strong, and absolute possession of his subject. A measure was no sooner proposed, than he seemed to have an instantaneous and intuitive perception of all its various bearings and consequences; of the manner in which it would operate on the different classes of society, on commerce or agriculture, on our domestic or foreign policy; of the difficulties attending its execution; in a word, of all its practical results, and the comparative advantages to be gained, either by adopting or rejecting it. He was intimately acquainted with the interests of the different parts of the community, with the minute and complicated details of political economy, with our external relations, with the views, the resources, and the maxims of other states. He was master of all those facts and circumstances which it was necessary to know, in order to judge fairly, and determine wisely; and he knew them not loosely or lightly, but in number, weight, and measure. He had also stored his memory by reading and general study, and improved his understanding by the lamp of history. He was well acquainted with the opinions and sentiments of the best authors, with the maxims of the most profound politicians, with the causes of the rise and fall of states, with the general passions of men, with the characters of different nations, and the laws and constitution of his own country. He was a man of a capacious, powerful, and highly cultivated intellect. No man could know more than he knew; no man's knowledge could be more sound, more plain and useful; no man's knowledge could be in more connected and tangible masses; no man could be more perfectly master of his ideas, could reason upon them more closely, or decide upon them more impartially. His mind was full, even to overflowing. He was so habitually conversant with the most