ON MEMORY. Juvat O meminisse beati What man is there whose soul has been so benumbed by adversity, whose fortune is so blasted by ill success, that his heart will not beat responsive to the above line, and hail with sincere joy the recollection of some portion of his past existence. Such a being, if such there is, can hardly deserve the name of man, so totally lost must he be to one of the best and most natural feelings in the human breast; namely, the pleasure arising from the remembrance of scenes and adventures gone by. It is a feeling productive of the happiest consequences, as it tends to excite in our minds a sense of gratitude towards the great Author of all good; for wretched indeed must he be, who can call to mind no portion of his life which he would not willingly live over again. It is a feeling which acquires additional force together with old age; a feeling nothing short of death can effectually subdue, and which is one of the chief pleasures of that age, "" whose delight is in the past, whose life is in recollection." Old age, with its necessary accompaniments, prevents one from taking an active share in present objects; the mind will therefore naturally buoy itself up with the past; as the drowning wretch anxiously grasps at the slightest reed before he sinks, overpowered by the waters. although the incidents of past life most forcibly strike the aged with pleasure, on account of the greater importance attached to the ideas associated with them, far be it from me to assert that they do not shed their kindly influence also upon those less advanced in years. It is true, their recollections are not of so great a moment; their griefs are not so excessive; but the vivid imaginations of youth give a pleasing and lasting weight to the most trivial occurrences. Whether we retrace the dark hours, when the morning school-bell has startled the ears of many a houghtless sleeper-or the proud period when, with six. And form dignity, we stand forth the mentors of our more pigmy brethren-school, with all its frolics, its little sorrows, its abundant joys, calls forth ideas fraught with the most genuine feelings of delight. When, also, boyhood is no more, and Alma Mater spreads forth her fostering arms to enlighten, polish, and adorn the man, the spirit giving remembrances of our youth become a source of the most lively affections, and we wander in our imaginations around the plains and brooks, the well-known objects of delight to our childhood. It is at such times, and when employed in meditating on such a subject, that an unwonted flow of spirits takes possession of the agedtheir thoughts are inspired with fresh fire-they greet with transport the ideal return of their youth,—they forget that they are old. G. WENTWORTH. Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair, Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen Friendship has so frequently afforded a theme for the pen of the moralist, and has so often arrested the attention of the philosopher, that the consideration of this subject can suggest little to my mind which can lay claim to the attraction of novelty. Trite and hackneyed, however, as may be my remarks, they deserve attention, from the circumstance that there are few subjects which more nearly concern the interest and happiness of mankind. First, I would enquire, What is Friendship? is an attachment which arises from a congeniality of dispositions, habits, or pursuits; in its growth it is gradu It ally strengthened by mutual good offices, and ripens into perfection by time and tried fidelity. That friendship is necessary to our happiness, no one, perhaps, will attempt to deny; for, considered as an individual, there is scarcely a more feeble creature than man, and the conviction of this weakness is sufficient to convince him that friendship is indispensable to him. Formed, as he is, for society, he finds himself in continual need of counsel and assistance. See him when the morning of distress breaks upon him, surrounded on every side by doubt and difficulty. He then feels the imbecility of his state, and anxiously looks round for help, advice, and consolation. The coldness of the world, its easy listlessness to our troubles, nay, more, the indifference which exists in our own hearts to all, except a few in whose society we are fated to live, soon convince us that without friends of true sincerity, we shall look for these good offices in vain. Nor is it only in the hours of adversity that we feel the necessity of this happy union. When fortune favors, with her most propitious smiles, and man has only to extend a hand that he may enjoy every pleasure and gratification which the completion of his fondest wishes can bestow, he still feels a vacuum, a something incomplete, unless his felicity is partaken by one who has shared in his adversity-by one whom he considers as a bosom friend. Were it possible for a man to have the wealth of the Indies at his command-was he advanced to the highest pinnacle of earthly power and greatness-and yet had he no friend on whom to exercise kindness and benevolence --and from whom to receive benefits in return, he would be poor indeed. I have heard it doubted, whether or not friendship is ever to be met with free from interest, and unconnected with the expectation of emolument; but if we go back to the writings of antiquity, and consult that most sacred of all records, the Bible, do we not find, in the lives of David and Jonathan, a beautiful example of disinterested friendship. And again, it is almost impossible to read of the characters of Achilles and Patroclus, on the page of Homer, and of Nisus and Euryalus, as delineated by Virgil, without feeling the enthusiasm of ancient friendship, or being desirous of meeting, in modern times, with examples equally splendid. The feeling is, I fear, in these days, more frequently nominal than real; yet, I doubt not that it is possible to produce, from every rank of society, instances of such generous and disinterested friendship as would reflect credit on human nature, and honor on the age in which they exist. To expatiate on the benefits which accrue to man from the cultivation of this attachment, is here unnecessary. It is impossible for us to see an object of more complete misery than a man without a friend. What state can be so wretched-what conviction so fraught with gloom, as to know that, in all the wide expanse of earth, there is not a heart that beats in unison with our's ; that commiserates our distress, or rejoices in our welfare? If, then, the mere idea of being without a friend adds misery to our reflections, how great, I had almost said, how enviable must be the happiness of that man who possesses a real friend!-one who will advise, assist, and instruct him; who will bear a willing part in his calamity, and cordially rejoice when the sunshine of prosperity returns. I would ask any one, who has in his heart the feelings of a man, what other consolation, in adversity, can compare with that solace which is afforded by the thought-that there is one whose sorrow for us is equal to our own, and who possesses an inclination to assist us not less than the urgency of our necessities requires. Again, is there in existence one who would wish for success unchecked-for wealth inexhaustible-without a friend to participate in the happiness he is enjoying. There are many who profess that their actions are influenced by friendship, whilst they are incapable of so noble a sentiment, and very many assume the name of friend, who are in no wise entitled to our confidence. None are more ready than the selfish to give the coloring of friendship to all their actions, well aware that this is the most likely means of securing the return of greater benefits than they confer. The object of their feigned esteem is to find a heart they can pervert, or a head they can mislead, so as to ensure the attainment of their unworthy ends. Their views relate entirely to themselves; and are those of anticipated pleasure and expected profit. Let but our power to be of service cease, and they flutter round us no more. Against such pretended friendship may confiding generosity be ever on its guard! He is How opposite is the conduct-how different the motives, of a true friend! He frames himself a happiness solely and entirely from the happiness of another. This feeling he cherishes in his inmost heart, and so tenaciously does he cling to it, that neither the disappointments nor the losses-the deceptions nor the slander of the world can separate him from it; nor can the smiles, the blandishments, or the grandeur of life, tempt him to exchange this sensation for all they can bestow. jealous for his friend's honor, interested in his welfare, and anxious for his felicity as for his own; nay, moreso deeply is he concerned for every thing of his, that his own honor, his own welfare, his own happiness, is injured or completed by, rises or sinks together with, that of his friend. In his doubts, he counsels; in his adversity, he participates; in his prosperity, he rejoices. These equally concern the one and the other. Their friendship is founded on the necessary-the indispensable basis of mutual respect. They may differ in opinion, but their friendship does not cool: in the pursuit of honor, of wealth, of preferment, they may vie-nay, the interest of their life may require them to be opposed to each other, but their attachment will not clash. Fortune may allot them different circumstances, but in sincerity, in confidence, in virtue, they are the same. True friendship neither looks for reward to excite its interest, nor persuasion to continue its warmth. Such a friendship is the balm of life; a rich ingredient in the cup of human felicity; one of the choicest gifts mortals can enjoy in this imperfect state. Various are the changes and uncertainties of life; innumerable and |