brought forward in favour of this subject, but from the few alluded to, we feel warranted to indulge in the pleasing anticipation, that when we meet amid the unnumbered throng around the throne of God, we shall there recognize many to whom we have been attached on earth by the dearest ties of friendship: and some of them perhaps may then appear to have been ministering spirits, sent forth to us with the commission of love.Then shall we spend a long eternity together in recounting the mercies of our God, and join to swell the grand chorus of hallelujahs, "to him who hath loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood."

But perhaps some may object to these observations, saying, that if a recollection of each other were to exist in another world, it would diminish our happiness; as we should probably witness some who had been our friends on earth, doomed for ever to suffer the vengeance of an insulted God. But we would say to such objectors, that if ever we reach the mansions of bliss, we shall entertain such exalted ideas of the

love, the holiness, the justice, and the infinite perfections of that God who is their judge, that we shall be irresistibly led to acquiesce in all his dealings, and say the Judge of all must do right. And we feel warranted in saying, that it will no more detract from our happiness than it will from his; so just will he be in punishing the sinner, that the rebellious themselves, on whom the vengeance of his wrath is inflicted, will acknowledge his rectitude; and he will be as much glorified thereby, as he will by the countless myriads who surround the throne, and sing praises unto "him who hath redeemed them, out of every kindred and tongue,. and people, and nation." W. R. F.

JAMES NACK'S POEMS.

This youth, who is deaf and dumb, was educated in the New-York Institution A small and handsomely printed volume of his poems has lately been issued from the New-York press. I shall invite the attention of my readers more particularly afterwards to this volume. But I beg leave to say, that though a long poem, of an epic nature, may not be fully sustained by this poet, there is, in his pages, some most touching and really sublime poetry. I will offer a comparison of very much of young Nack's poetry in this humble volume, with the poetry of Sir Walter Scott, and of Lord Byron. I will not say that Nack can yet conceive a full and regular poem, and do justice to all its parts, its beginning, middle, and end, as critics speak. But I can point out much poetry in Nack, unspeakably better finished than even the generality of Scott's. And in the imaginative, he is, in some instances, I do think, equal to some of Byron's much admired poetry. I regret exceedingly, that we should pour all our praises and raptures on imported poetry, and neglect our own native poetry of such vigour and beauty. Let us encourage this youthful poet. He may yet be a bright ornament in the region of poesy, if we may judge from these beautiful specimens. The following exquisite lines I select at the opening of the book. There is even more exquisite poetry in the volume.

"Shall I of utter loneliness repine,

While I with a delighted eye can see The sprite of genius breathing in the line, That kindles with its wild sublimity; While beauty dazzles in the lay divine,

And pathos melts the soul to sympathy, And fancy wafts my thoughts upon her pinions, Roving the fairy land of her dominions?

To me, when beauty's fingers softly sweep

The quivering strings, no rapture they impart; Yet melody, though to thine accents dead,

Whose witchery had else subdued my heart,

From infancy my spirit has been led,

In blissful thraldom, by thy sister art; Sweet poetry! still shall it own thy sway, Till on the wings of death it soars away!

Perhaps unhonoured I must live and die;

And when the minstrel boy is swept away, This harp within his grave unreck'd shall lie,

And with his name become oblivion's prey! Well, be it so ; I care not, if no eye

But Thine shall ever dwell upon my lay, Should Thine enbalm these pages with a tear For him who had but Thee to value here!

Thy voice, Religion! thine alone controls

The frantic rage of anguish, when the car Of death o'er bleeding hearts triumphant rolls; Our eyes, by thee directed, on the star Of Hope are fixed; whose influence consoles

The mourner with a glimpse of worlds afar, Where he, with all he loves, will be united In bliss that can not be alloyed or blighted.

**********

The fetters of the ear shall be unbound,

And silence shall no more these lips control, When the archangel's awful trump shall sound,

Death, from its sleep awakening, when all Shall at its summons burst the trembling ground, With myriad voices answering to his call, In shouts of ecstacy, or shrieks of fear, Before the bar of heaven to appear!

And then, my blue-eyed maid, may we unite

With all we love below, to hymn the praise Of our Redeemer. Oh! with what delight

Shall I inhale the music of thy lays, Warbling with those of cherubim, while bright Eternal glories clothe us in the blaze That emanates from mercy's smiling eye, Hov'ring the throne of the Almighty nigh!" NACK'S POEMS, p. 63, &c.

The first duel, in America, was fought in New-England. It took place in A. D. 1621, something like a year after the settlement of the country by the venerable Puritans. And it took place between two persons of that rank in society, among which one would hardly suppose that the remains of rude gothicism would be found lingering-I mean the servile rank. It was fought between two servants, probably white indented servants; now more commonly known by the name of hirelings; not hirelings in the sense of the theological nomenclature of Friends. That

6

term, "hirelings," by the way, I am credibly informed, means, in their theological dialect, a priest or a minister of Christ. But our heroes were called hirelings in the common civic sense; to distinguish them from "servants for life," or slaves," who have no "hire" for their labours. Consequently, it appears that duelling originated among us, not quite in the lowest order of civilized society. This is a point gained, of consequence, for the honour of "slaves." Well, these said "servants" had, in consequence of some singular provocation, been put into mortal dudgeon,' at each other. And as they thought more of their servile honour than they did of their souls, and as they were more ashamed of mingling, as servants, indecent society,' without having washed out the stain of the affront by blood, than they were afraid of throwing their immorta! souls, in the stake of their last destinies, at the bar of the Eternal, to receive the doom of deliberate murderers; they would fight. They must fight; or, shocking alternative! be for ever the disgraced knights of the white towel! They met. They fought. And it was the will of a merciful God, whose holy providence extends its care over maniacs and duellists, that none of them received damage in life or limb. However, the act of firing pistols in each other's faces had the singular and mysterious effect of purifying and cleansing their characters, in the mutual estimation of these servants,' and a few other simpletons of their own habits of thinking.

This novel affair was soon noised abroad. And the deed was not to be passed with impunity, among the stern and moral Puritans. This madman-like action was pronounced by them "a misleading, and ungodly crime against the good order of their society."

up.

But yet they did not hang them And this, it must be acknowledged

THE PRINCE OF SAXE-COBURG AND DR. LAWSON.

The Prince of Saxe-Coburgh is descended from an illustrious house of Germany. His ancestors were among the warmest and most effective friends of the Reformation. And to this day, it is understood, they are the enlightened, and fast friends of the principles of the Reformation.

The young Prince of Saxe-Coburg is an elegant, accomplished, and well educated man. He was the choice of the heart of the beautiful young princess of Wales, who, had God spared her, would have been the queen of England. She died within the first year of her happy union to the prince. Never, perhaps, was the heart of a human being so tried. He was blessed in his marriage to the most beautiful princess of Europe. There was a singular and happy resemblance in their souls, between their views, feelings, and pursuits.They were passionately attached to each other. In their beautiful and retired seat, near London, of a Sabbath day's afternoon, while their gay and noble friends were engrossed in pleasures, they would be in their study, reading, together, the Holy Book, or their favourite, Barrow's sermons. But in a few brief hours' illness death severed their blessed union. When he saw the beloved of his soul, the source of all his earthly pleasures and hopes, lowered down into the vault, he tore himself from his weeping friends and attendants, and leaped down into the chamber of the dead, and wept in anguish, on the coffin which contained the mortal remains of his princess.

But I am wandering from my ancc-
VOL. II.-43.

dote which I wished to tell you. The Prince, a few months after the anguish of his grief had spent itself, made an excursion through the north of England, and came into Scotland. He was every where received with enthusiasm. In his progress, he passed through Selkirk. The Rev. and learned Dr. Lawson was at that time living. He was the Professor of Theology of the Associate Church. The Doctor was a man of plain manners, and of perfect simplicity. He was full of knowledge, and full of intense thought; a master of theology. And the Greek and Hebrew Testaments were as familiar to him as the most popular of the English Classics are with any one of us. He dressed in the Clerical style of the middle of the last century. He had his plain, single-breasted, long-waisted coat, with the broad skirts, and huge pocket flaps on the outside, and a long black velvet doublet, with pocket flaps and peaks reaching nearly down to his knees; his small clothes being of the same materials, and scarcely reaching the knee.

His

blue stockings came up over his knees, and were fixed under his velvets, by a silver buckle; and his shoes, reaching to his ankle, were garnished off with a pair of superb, large silver buckles. He wore a wig. And, what is unusual in the Clergy of Scotland, he wore no hair powder. Once, indeed, some one of his family (it was supposed to have been his wife, who wished, for once, to deck out the Doctor in rather a superb way,) did venture to put (while he was in deep study) his wig on of a Sabbath morning, powdered as white as snow. The Doctor did not discover it, until he was in the pulpit. He was disturbed during the action of his sacred services, by showers of dust falling down occasionally about his elbows. And

having at last discovered the cause, he gravely took off his wig, and gave it, as the North Britons say, in their expressive language, twa or three

But

Well, it was resolved by the Committee of Arrangement, that Dr Lawson, at the head of all the students of his Theological Seminary, should march out and receive the Prince, and make a speech. The Doctor declined to march with the students. he sent all his youth to escort the Prince in. The Doctor, however, mingled in the crowd who paid their affectionate respects to the Prince; and was, in course, presented to the Prince, by some one of the family of the Duke of Buccleugh, with whose Dutchess the Doctor was a great favourite. The Doctor had a warm heart, and he was a great admirer of the Prince. Such feelings will always make a man polite before those to whom he is presented. When the Doctor reached the presence, he made a low obeisance, and said, 66 I am very happy to hae the honour o' payin' my profound respects to the young Prince of Saxe-Coburg." The Prince stepped up, and grasped the venerable man's hand. "I am exceedingly happy," continued the Doctor," to see the representative of the house of Saxe-Coburg." The Prince shook his hand, and assured him he was very happy to see such a venerable servant of Christ. "Prince!" continued the Doctor, "I can not tell you how much pleasure it gives me to see the representative of the maist ancient and noble house of Coburg, which was such a distinguished friend and patron of the Reformation."

The Prince turned him to his friends and attendants, and observed, "that he had never, in his travels, received from auy one, a more delicate and gratitying compliment."

The conversation was resumed. "I presume, Doctor," said the Prince,

66

Yes, my maist noble Prince; Luther, and Calvin, and Knox, were nae milk sops. They were nae men clothed in soft raiment, with snooth lady's faces, to worship those in power, at the expense of honesty and truth. And moreover, my Prince, your family ancestors wad na hae brooked ony ither kind o' doctrine in their presence. Had thae men o' supple conscience, like ower many 0' oor times, hae flattered them wi' the titles belonging to Jesus Christ, allenarly they wad hae driven them frae their levees, my Prince, intil their closets, there to seek for deep penitence, and for new hearts, and gude common sense, by fervent prayers.Ay! gude my Prince, that wad they hae done!""

"You are a faithful and gallant servant of the Redeemer," said the Prince, bowing to him. "I wish all the ministers in my dominions were as honest."

"God forbid that I should glory, my prince, saving it be in the cross of my Lord. We claim nae merit in being simply faithful in the way of duty to oor Lord."

Here the conversation was interrupted. The Prince once more shook