thoughts at the same moment. By attempting to grasp || thought may be regarded as having an extensive partmany thoughts at once, we grasp no one firmly. The nership-co-operating with others in manufacturing cerstory told (if I mistake not) by Dr. Franklin, of the tain moral fabrics. It is amusing and edifying to trace child who, while he held an apple in each hand firmly, out, in any given case, the members of the firm-to sought to bear off a third and lost all of them, (a story examine the bond which binds them-to mark the stock originally employed to exhibit the folly of avarice,) will which each has in trade-to ascertain the part which serve to illustrate the futility of the attempt to seize a each performs in the common business, and see their dozen thoughts together. The mind, crippled by a mutual communications and operations. thousand ideas at once, can no more reason, than could a shepherd discourse with his friend, amid the din of a thousand forge hammers. I would not be understood that in examining one thought we may not examine others, collaterally. In tracing one thought we shall meet with many; for no one is isolated. As in sailing down a stream we find ourselves in a swelling channel, constantly enlarging by the accession of tributaries; so, in pursuing a thought, we shall find it enlarging and multiplying its relations. Only let us take care to sail down the main channel instead of trying to sail up each tributary. 3. Relations of dependence. Every thought, unless it be a first truth, has a basis on which it reposes, and in its turn, affords foundation to others. To see how far it is dependent, and how far independent—to mark where it receives, and where it furnishes support, is an exciting and gratifying task. 4. Relations of analogy. The endless variety observable in the natural world is no less noticeable in the moral world. It is, at once, an exercise of attention, of memory, of judgment, and of imagination, to group together analogous thoughts, and to mark differences and resemblances. And this exercise confers the power of nice discrimination. 5. Relations of composition. The unlearned man may wonder why one single mass of ore, not larger than a nut-shell, should furnish matter of experiment to a chimist for a whole day-should induce him to call into requisition so many tests-to employ so much curious apparatus--to blow up his fires and fill his retorts; while he could plow over ten acres of the soil, or shovel up twenty cart loads of it with less time and trouble. Many a thought which a coarse mind would deem too small to be picked up, if subjected to a discerning intellect, may be deemed a worthy subject of long It may be thought that by limiting the mind, it is contracted. It is true that there is a mighty intellect, capable of far sweeping thought, which seems crippled when confined. It spurns all common restraints, and stationing itself on an eminence, which others may never hope to gain, and placing to the eye a telescope of greatest power, sees far beyond the vision of ordinary minds, and reveals wonders before unconceived. But generally the man who always makes the wide world, or the wider universe, the theater of observation, will see no more than any other eye can perceive. Whereas, if he limited the field of observation, and applied a micro-hours of experiment under the most complicated mental scope to it, he would discover a thousand beauties, not less new, not less wonderful, though less magnificent, than those which the telescope discloses to the observer, on the eminence which, to all common footsteps, is unap-mind; and if you do not receive, as the result of your deproached and unapproachable. Allow your thought to range freely, direct your attention to nothing in particular, and you may have variety; but it will be barren, common, tasteless-nothing new, nothing original, nothing striking. processes. Do you doubt? then take some thought, subject it to rigid analysis, and see if you do not find matter for all your attention, and power, and furniture of composition, some element, which, if inflamed, may illuminate the darkest chamber, or fuse the hardest metal. You will perceive, therefore, that the steady direction of the mind to one thought, so far from causing paucity of ideas, is productive of a rich variety. So intimately Take a single thought, and trace its connections-if connected are sciences, that no man can obtain a perfect it belong not to the exact sciences, in which the rela-knowledge of any one, without acquiring a knowledge tions are those of degree and proportion, or to the ethical,|| of many others. So it is with single facts. The Porin which they are those of conformity to established tuguese, in returning from Cape Bajadore, discovered rules, you will find a thousand beautiful relations. Let the island of Madeira. In their voyages to more southus specify a few: ern capes, of the then unknown parts of Africa, they 1. Relations of connection. Every thought is con- met with Cape Verd islands, and the Azores. In their nected with a family of extensive ramifications. To be search after a new way from the Tagus to India, they thoroughly acquainted with it, we must not be content discovered the rich country of Brazil. In their gloto view it alone. Like the ingenious suitor, we must rious career of geographical discovery, they enlarged allow it to introduce us to its relatives, watch its move-their commerce-in increasing their commerce, they ments in the family circle, observe it under the play of enlarged their manufactures. domestic affinities, compare it with the other branches of its beloved sisterhood, and question, frequently, and ingeniously, its most intimate companions. It is only in this way that we can obtain a knowledge of its occult characteristics. These, like the skillful coquette, it will hide from all but the close and practiced observer. Send out the mind upon the ocean of truth, and even though in pursuit of a single thought, it will meet, in its voyage, with others of which it does not dream. 2d. Close thought implies fixedness of attention and concentration of mental energy. Washington Irving has remarked, that this habit is rarely possessed by 2. There are relations of correspondence. Every || Americans. They are more accustomed to observe 11 enrapture ancient proficients in virtue and wisdom with the depth of her counsels. than to reason-they rely more upon facts than upon arguments. If this be so, it is the more important to call attention to the subject; for it is the stern decree of Heav- Many a noble mind has failed to accomplish aught, en that concentration of mind is essential to powerful con- because it would not labor. Much as men are indisception. The poet's soul, like the maniac's eye, may roll posed to physical, they are still more disinclined to in pleasing phrenzy. To the student or the philoso- mental toil. Let a man sit down to cogitation--he pher, whose object is the discipline of the mind, or the feels it to be burdensome-he thinks his stock of investigation of truth, steadiness of gaze is indispensa-thought must soon be exhausted--he grows discour ble. The light of the sun possesses no power, when aged. Imagination now appears in robes of light—she radiating freely, to fire the softest piece of tinder. Is there a mind so glorious as to challenge the orb of day as a fit emblem of itself, it must converge its rays to a focus before it can become a burning light. There must be a fixing of attention, a combination of the faculties, a gathering of the soul's energies, a narrow limitation of the field of exertion, in order to effect any thing im-ous thought, works of taste open their fascinating pages, portant in the region of thought. Small triumphs may be gained by scattered companies; but troops must be marshaled upon the same plain, obey the same commander, fight the same foe, to effect a glorious achieve-truth of which we are in pursuit. The temptation is ment. offers a lovely bower—she spreads a mossy couch—she promises to fan with gentle zephyrs, to delight with lovely landscapes, and lull to repose with murmuring rivulets and gently flowing torrents. Without resolution, who will not yield to the charmer? Sometimes, in the midst of our first efforts at original and continu and offer to introduce us into a world of unmarred loveliness. Often, when enduring the toil of research, we find a path at hand ready turnpiked, leading to the Do you wish to be capable of triumphant men- too great-we abandon our own path, pass easily along tal exertion? Subdue all your faculties, teach them to the beaten track, with common minds, and although obey your commands with promptitude-to move with we arrive at the object, lose mental strength and confiautomatic precision-to act in concert—to rush to head- | dence, and the sweet consciousness of original discovquarters at a moment's warning-to seize a subject with ery. Occasionally we excuse our minds from labor by vigor, pursue it with perseverence, and a determination sliding from investigation to some other duty, promnever to leave it until thoroughly mastered. This is ising a return under more favorable circumstances. what phrenologists call concentrativeness-without it|| Felix dismissed St. Paul, promising to send for him the most powerful organs are weak. when he had a convenient season-that season Felix never found. 3d. Close thought implies patient, laborious research. The curse which dooms man to perpetual toil No one will ever prosecute a connected train of as the price of his subsistence, penetrates his soul, and thought, without holding an iron scepter, with a steady sheds the dews of perspiration upon his brow, before it hand, over the powers of his mind. Never did warrior, allows the spirit to feel a consciousness of health and scaling snow-clad Alps, need more decision and persevigor, or permits it to thrust the sickle into a rich and verance and steadiness, than he who ascends elevated abundant harvest of thought. Fancy may take flights summits of thought, bearing upward his reluctant facin paroxysms, but reason receives truth as the reward of ulties against ten thousand persuasive arguments, and only patient, persevering toil. God has equalized his gravitating influences. Rugged cliffs, threatening emigifts in the moral world more than is generally supposed.nences, terrific glaciers, are not more imposing obstacles Excellences of mind are less the gift of nature than the to the traveler, than are those which present themselves rewards of industry. I say not that there are no orig- to the undisciplined mind in its attempt at rigorous inal differences of mind; but that these are not such investigation. as to prevent the ordinary peasant, by a slow, steady, upward movement of mind, from leaving at a sightless distance in his rear, the brightest genius that ever the globe rocked-if that genius allow his thoughts to range unconcentrated, untrained. Second. Let us consider the excuses of those who avoid close thought. 1st. It is frequently asked, Is not thought spontaneous-suggested by laws of association beyond the control of reason? If so, whence the necessity of mental The eagle, fitted by God to sail aloft, directing a exertion? This query is frequently the subterfuge of steady gaze at the orb of day, can neither attain nor indolence. The agriculturalist might say, is not vegemaintain a lofty elevation without an active pinion. table nutrition dependent on laws beyond human reguThe ancients represented, in fable, that Minerva, god-lation? why, then, need we plow, or sow, or disturb the dess of wisdom and liberal arts, sprang mature, perfect, full-armed, from the head of Jupiter; but if you, like the fabled father of men, and king of gods, nourish beneath the membranes of your brain, a full-armed, perfect goddess, you will find that you shall suffer throes within the cranium, (as he is represented to have done,) and need the skill and the axe of Vulcan, to open your skull, before that virgin shall spring, and dance the Phyrric dance, and strike her shield and brandish her spear, and show her blue eye, and breathe her martial fury, and earth with harrows? What though thought be not at the bidding of arbitrary will-is there no necessity for the employment of intellect? The existence of mental faculties, the rewards which sweeten intellectual toil, the curses which pursue the conscience-smitten sluggard, constitute a burning reply to the question. Two ways may be pointed out in which reason may influence thought. First, it has the power of election and reprobation among suggested ideas. It can detain a thought which otherwise might pass on unnoticed, or the inner and the outer, the physical and the intellectual worlds? Let us ascend to the tract of thought, where such laws are discovered, such correspondences observed, and dwell where the patient eye cannot long gaze upon the scenes spread before it, without perceiving new and transporting forms. It is by calm and persevering observation alone, that unknown truth is made known. It may come unexpectedly, but not unsought. The eye may have no more difficulty in opening upon it than upon any other truth; but the steps to the ascent whence it was discoverable may be numerous and steep. it may dismiss a thought which seems fitted to occupy || matter or of mind, or to observe new correspondences in the attention. The detention of an idea gives rise to a series, which might never have been introduced had not its precursor been fixed. So, also, when a conception is expelled, its associates are banished with it. The exertion of this power is of incalculable importance. It needs no inspiration to discern within the soul a tendency to evil, which gives to pernicious thought an aptitude to engage. To raise a crop of weeds or brambles, we need neither sow nor plow. Simply to neglect the soul, is to abandon it to the possession of all that is unlovely. We are naturally indolent; but useful ideas, like useful plants, require cultivation-if, therefore, wholesome thought springs up in the uncultured mind,| it wilts, and withers, and dies. What greater privilege does the gardener need, than that of selecting from the thousand productions which prolific nature pours around him. Let him but eradicate every weed within his little inclosure, and dig around the roots of his shrubs, his pinks, and his lilies, and he will soon reap his reward in the beauties and fragrance of his beds and bowers. What but this has transformed a rude spot into that "garden of tears" which enraptures every wanderer on "sweet Mondego's ever verdant vale?" Nature is no less bountiful to the world invisible than to that which is physical. Does any one complain of barrenness or brambles, let him examine whether the abundance of his neighbor be owing to any superiority in soil. Go, thou sluggard, go-fence thy grounds, plow thy soil, pluck thy weeds, cultivate thy vines and flowers; and scarce wilt thou be able to say, "Awake, O, north wind, and come thou south-blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out," before thou shalt see the grape blush upon the vine, the carnation breathe its fragrance, the rose disclose its beauty. A second way by which the reason may influence conception, consists in putting the mind in approximation to desired thought. We are all conscious that we are able to exert the mind arbitrarily in the recollection of forgotten facts and personages. A friend in the street inquires for a mutual acquaintance-we are aware that we know him, but are unable to remember him. We pause a moment and endeavor to bring him to recollection-instantly he flashes upon the mind. Here we are conscious of voluntarily placing the soul upon a track which we knew would lead to the person whose image we wished to recall. This is called intentional memory. In some cases we can distinctly trace the progress; in others, though the footsteps are undiscernable, we are conscious of the movement. This is bearing the soul backward through familiar truths to truths forgotten; but it serves to illustrate what I have in view, by the voluntary placing of the soul in relation to undiscovered truth. When we seek to discover a truth, we may bear the mind onward towards the point whence it may be seen. Though we may not be able to map our course, we may, nevertheless, be apprised of our journey. Though we may not reach our point, we may travel towards it, and cannot fail of ascending to elevated points, and opening our eyes on fields of unwonted light. Do we desire to discover new laws of This capability of putting the mind in such relations as are fruitful in rich and new ideas, is a great advantage which the cultivator of the mind possesses over the tiller of the soil. It is as though the gardener had the power of removing his garden at pleasure to any climate he wished, and allowing it to remain there until it experienced its characteristic effects, and unbosomed its peculiar fruits and flowers. (To be concluded.) ་་་་་ Original. THE EARLY GONE. BY MISS BAKER. I SAW her once when the early glow She touched the lute, and its stealing strain I saw her again, but the joyous light I asked if an unrequited love On her heart a mildew had shed; From the happy and gay had fled. But she breathed not a word of the deep distress She never complained of the heartlessness I saw her again-a dreamless repose And now on her dreamless pillow she sleeps, a beloved relative has left the shores of time. In the morning of life she espoused the religion of the blessed Redeemer. Intent upon the object of her faith, she never paused until she was called from the field, not a captive, but a conqueror, with a swelling hope of glory My dear S. will pardon my seeming neglect, when I assure her that no earthly privilege is more valued by me, than communion with tried friends. Friendship, as I judge from my own feelings, is a sentiment inher-breaking in delightful surprise, and mingling with the ent in the human mind. The term is often used in a everlasting songs of heaven. She was lovely. She sense almost profane; but this only shows, that in possessed the happy art of combining gentleness and itself, it is sacred. To me it has an exquisite charm, fortitude in all her performances. Often have I, at and draws after it the most moving associations of my even, when the sun had found his place of repose in life. Pleasures are rendered purer and more pleasing the purple west, and twilight was calmly bathing the by participation, and the sorrows which most cruelly bosom of nature, gone with her to the habitation of oppress and crush the heart, become tolerable under suffering humanity. With what compassion would the alleviations of a soothing friendship. My friend-she hush the cries of the orphan, and dry up the tears ships have been fortunate. And I ascribe this, first, to of the broken-hearted. Our hearts, more than once, Providence, from whose beneficence we derive all our melted within us while listening to the mournful story blessings; secondly, to the fact that I have not suffered of the woes of her whom dissipation had made twice myself to be drawn into such sacred alliances with all a widow. But this loved one of my childhood is gone. who came in my way, but have sought friends in those On the heath, or when I sit alone by the streams of the who appeared, upon cautious inspection, to combine in hills, I'll talk of her who, pale as the marble, lies shelthemselves an assemblage of the choicest virtues which tered by the rock, while the moon sheds its beams on adorn our nature, and render sweetly amiable the fe- her grave. Shall her hand tune the harp to the mild male character. notes of glory? Yes, when the dream of the grave is over, she will make music before the throne. While penning these thoughts, how naturally am I transported back to the scenes of earlier life-to the forming stages of that blissful and lasting friendship which has so long existed between my dear S. and myself. How vivid in my memory are the blithsome hours of our childhood. I am lost in the musings of the past, and seem again to be whirling along the avenue near your revered father's residence, gathering the sunny flowrets which were not half so gay and smiling as our own happy selves. With what rapture were we wont to welcome the now waiting season the approach of spring; and as it brought along a clear, cloudless morning, with what enthusiasm did we wander forth to greet the charms, and riot in the gush ing glories of the season! Then the breezes of the fragrant morning, and the softer sighs of evening, made the music of the opening and closing day, and feathered choirs added choruses to the strain. But whither do I stray? Forgive me. You know to write as our thoughts wander, is the privilege of friendship. And now, my dear S., before I close, permit me to recommend to your serious attention the subject of religion. From other pursuits you may, perhaps, glean some unsatisfactory and transient enjoyments; but from religion you will reap a harvest of the most sublime truths, of the purest delights, and of the richest and most lasting pleasures. It will embalm your morning walks, and sweeten your evening meditations. It is the fragrance of the garden of love. It will soften all the asperities, and enhance all the joys of your being. Affectionately yours, Original. GOD A DEFENSE. ANN. How often did we linger and listen to the murmurs of the far off water-fall, or the softer sounds of the "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so streamlet purling at our feet. Then the fire-fly, rising the Lord is round about them that fear him." Judea from the surrounding verdure, floated before us on the was a mountainous country, and Jerusalem was situated evening air, shedding transient gleams upon the dark-in the mountains. From the shores of the Mediterraness, and willing, it would seem, to light us on our nean the path almost constantly ascends to the city. way. These were the days in which we formed gar-But the city is environed by other hills. Catherwood's lands of roses, never to fade; and painted scenes of panoramic representation presents these hills in a strifuture happiness, never to suffer the withering touch king aspect, so that on entering the rotunda to examine of disappointment. But ah! how fleeting is human the painting, the first glance brings the above text to bliss, when sought in the vain amusements of this life! mind. To give force and effect to the Psalmist's exclaI ask, where are the friends of our youth? A long, mation, we must recollect that these mountains were mournful reverberation returns, saying, many of them generally beautiful and fruitful, producing olives, vines have gone down the tide of returnless years, while the and pasturage. Moses says, that the rocks of the mounwild grass waves over their graves, hallowed by a thous-tains give forth oil, by which figure he intimates their and sacred recollections; and the sculptured marble surprising fertility. What striking emblems were they lifts its front to perpetuate their memories, and rehearse of the power and mercy of him whose arm is our to the passing traveler their virtues. defense, and whose paths drop fatness, to all who put H. Here lies a letter, bearing the mournful tidings that their trust in him! THE IMMUTABILITY OF CHRIST. Original. 85 invariably the same. He employs his agency in new THE IMMUTABILITY OF CHRIST. scenes of creation and providence, and with variations BY L. L. HAMLINE. adapted to the purposes of his infinitely inventive and benevolent mind. To speak more plainly, he begins to do things which he had never done, and ceases to do “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever," them when his work is finished. He began to make Hebrews xiii, 8. IMMUTABILITY belongs only to God. It is claimed by him in the Scriptures of truth as one of his distinguishing attributes-an attribute in which he differs from all creatures, and by which he is elevated infinitely above them. To the immutability of his nature he teaches us to trace the stability of his purposes, and the moral uniformity of his government over the world. To his immutability we must ascribe that deliberation of his providence, which neither his friends nor his foes can disturb a deliberation which prevents all haste to reward and to punish, and which accomplishes the work of moral correction, and of ultimate retribution wisely, both in regard to their methods and their periods. "I am the Lord, I change not, therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed." The text ascribes immutability to our Lord Jesus Christ. Of course, it presents him as clothed with an incommunicable attribute of Jehovah. No language this world, and having accomplished it, as the history declares, he "rested from all his work." The time will come when he will begin to destroy this world, and having done it, he will cease. It is evident, then, that there are variations in Christ's agency. And such variations we shall find to be in perfect harmony with his immutability. The immutability of Christ does not imply an unchanging providence. His government must always suit the moral states-the holiness or the sinfulness of his creatures. If his subjects are immutable, his providence must be so; but if they change, his dispensations towards them must be varied. His creatures have changed. The holy have become sinful, and the sinful holy. Therefore, his providence towards them has also changed. The divine smiles, which originally constituted the bliss of the unsinning pair, have been turned into frowns. Curse has succeeded blessing at the mouth of the Lord. Paradise, with its charms, has been blotted can be found, in the Jewish or Christian Scriptures, out, and earth has become a depository of plagues and which less equivocally, or more forcibly asserts absolute curses, to distress and to destroy her rebellious children. This is an example of the innumerable variations of and eternal unchangeableness, than does the language providence towards capricious moral subjects. Christ's of the text. 66 Yesterday-to-day-and for ever." Yesterday denotes eternity past; to-day designates the pre-be thus varied, and adapted with infinite skill to immutable rectitude requires that his providence should sent; for ever points to eternity future. In these three states, embracing with an impressive particularity and emphasis a whole eternity, Christ is declared to be the same. And the declaration proceeds from authority which it were impious to discredit, and profane to con tradict. The inevitable inference is, that Christ is the "true God." This is the conclusion to which the language of the text would naturally conduct the mind of a docile disciple. Can we apply its affirmation to creatures the most exalted? Enoch and David and Paul were very eminent men. Substitute either of those names, or that of Michael or Gabriel, for Jesus Christ, in the text, and you can better determine the propriety of reducing our blessed Lord to an equality with angels, or to a level with mere man. the moral states of his creatures. Christ's immutability does not require that he should so adjust his providences to the moral states of his creatures, as to render their harmony apparent to us in this life. He is pledged to the ultimate vindication of all his actions. But the time is not now. At present he permits his ways to be involved in much obscurity, so far as man is concerned. We are left to wonder at the sufferings of the innocent, and the prosperity of the guilty; and must wait until "every secret thing is brought into judgment," for the clearing up of the mysteries which are involved in the divine administration. To us it would seem that there is partiality in the controling energy which sends the Gospel to one nation and not to another-which produces a revival in one city and not in another-which bears present conviction to the conscience of one sinner and not of another. Without the Bible to guard us, and without faith in its assurances, we might infer from such dispensations that God is exceedingly capricious, and that he is as free from the control of firm and righteous principle, as the most unstable and unreasonable of his creatures. But all these temptations to misconceive and misjudge the divine administration, grow out of our ignorance, which God will sometime disperse, and show us, to our admiration, that he was unchangeably wise and righteous in his government of mankind. The apostle inculcates patience under trials, by an argument drawn from the unchangeableness of Christ. Let us briefly dwell on this encouraging theme, by considering, first-what is implied in the Divine immutability; and second-the peculiar support which the believer derives from the unchangeableness of Christ, as blending in himself the Divine and human natures. I. Let us inquire what is implied in the Divine immutability. On this point we must be cautious, and not include in the idea of Christ's immutability that which does not properly belong to it. When we say that he is unchangeable, we do not mean that what- Christ's immutability does not imply a circumstantial ever may be predicated of him is unchangeable. Action uniformity in the revelations which he makes of himself may be predicated of Christ. But his actions are not to his creatures. His countenance may change-may |