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weeks," he adds, "I had to compose every day the lecture of the ensuing day; and yet, I believe, after all, that these lectures were among the best I gave."

It is by no means certain, that the opinion of his readers will coincide with the writer; or that posterity, (if the lectures themselves, which is doubtful, will survive to receive a judgment from posterity,) will confirm it. The most extraordinary circumstance in this history is, that these same lectures, written with a rapidity unparalleled, we believe, in the history of such productions, within a time not more than sufficient for the mere mechanical execution, should have been repeated year after year, successively, that is, until the last sickness of their author, and then, after his death, printed from his manuscripts, exactly as he wrote them, without alteration, except, as Mr. Welsh declares, the addition of the heads or titles, and a few notes of reference. It is difficult to believe that he did not revise them in the repetition, or that, with his zeal in the science he professed, he could have been satisfied with these first fruits of his labors, gathered so hastily. We infer, that he must have varied them by extempore illustration, or otherwise given to his classes some benefit of his passing studies, during the ten years he instructed them. However this may be, we hear from this time forth more of his poetry than of his philosophy, a choice, which even his most partial friends regretted, as a mistaken and unfortunate estimate of his gifts.

Dr. Brown continued in the discharge of the duties of his professorship till the beginning of the year 1820. A little before that period, he had suffered from a quickness of pulse, and a general exhaustion. He was compelled, by his physician, though with reluctance, to omit lecturing for a few days.

"When he again met his class," says his friend," his lecture unfortunately happened to be one, which always excited in him great emotion. Indeed, many of his lectures affected him so much, that he found it difficult to conceal from his pupils, what he felt. When he read anything, that contained sublime moral sentiments, or anything very tender, he never failed to be much moved."

The particular lecture, to which Mr. Welsh refers, contained some touching lines from Beattie's Hermit, which he recited in the most affecting manner; and there were those among his pupils, who, aware of his great debility, "conceived that the

emotion he displayed in uttering these last words, arose from a foreboding of his own approaching dissolution."

"Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn;
Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save;

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But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn? O! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave? From Edinburgh, he retired a few miles out of town, to the country residence of his valued friend, Dr. Charles Stuart. The mildness of the weather, though it was then in February, seemed at first to have had a favorable influence, and he entertained hopes of recovery. He earnestly desired it, for he loved his profession and its honors, and seems to have taken a deep interest in the progress of his class. His regret at not being able to attend them, and his anxiety to obtain a fit person to read his lectures, hurt him exceedingly. Unfortunately to the mild weather, which had tempted him into the country, a dreadful storm succeeded, with heavy falls of snow; the effect was immediate, and from that time his health rapidly declined.

Mr. Welsh gives the following affecting account of his parting interview with him.

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"It was while he was here, that I saw, for the last time, my ever-lamented friend." "I found him in bed, and there was something in the sound of his voice and in the expression of his countenance altogether, that at the very first look irresistibly impressed upon me, that there was nothing more to hope. There was no languor, however, in his eye." "Amidst the death of every other feature, his eyes had all their former mild intelligence." They want me,' ," said he," with a tone of voice, in which sorrow, and something almost approaching to dissatisfaction were conjoined, they want me to go to London, and then spend the summer in Leghorn, and a thousand other horrid places,' and then, after a pause, and with an altered tone of voice and expression of countenance, such as marked his allowance for human nature, he added, ' 't is very difficult to convince them, that there is such a disease as the love of one's country. Many people really cannot be made to comprehend it.' He then proceeded, with a languid and melancholy smile, but there is such a disease;

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Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine captos,
Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui.

Non sinit,' he added, how simply and beautifully expressive, it will not let us forget it.'"

He yielded, however, to the prescription of his physician, Dr. Gregory, and embarked at Leith for London, where he was met by the kindest friends, and conveyed to pleasant lodgings at Brompton. For a few days, he seemed to revive; but it was only for a few. Disease had marked him for its victim. During its whole progress, he preserved his natural gentleness, but gave little utterance, as was his custom through life, to his religious emotions. His chief anxiety seemed to be the distress, which his illness occasioned to those about him; and, after a short term of acute suffering, he expired, on the 2d of April, 1820, in the forty-second year of his age. His remains were put into a leaden coffin, and, being conveyed to Scotland, were laid, agreeably to his wish, beside those of his father and mother.

We must leave to our readers such views as they may be disposed to form of the merits of Professor Brown, as a poet and philosopher. His personal virtues were of the most attractive nature, and conciliated, as we have seen, the warm attachment of the eminent men, among whom he spent his days. Neither his poetry nor his lectures, however, are destined to any permanent fame; and the latter, as might have been anticipated from his hasty preparations, have already lost the place they for a short time obtained among the text-books of our colleges and universities.

F. P.

ART. V.-ON THE PROBABLE DURABILITY OF THE WORLD.

THE efforts of a recent lecturer to prove the speedy coming of the millennium, have attracted so much attention as to call forth many answers, more or less elaborate, from the pulpit and the press. The substance of these answers, comprised in the response of our Lord, "of that day and hour knoweth no man," must be considered as satisfactory.

He

But the wish to pry into futurity is natural to man. cannot be satisfied with the present or the past. He looks to the future for something better, and brighter, and happier, than anything he has yet seen. This disposition is necessarily connected with the wish for improvement. If man were satisfied VOL. XXIX. —3D s. VOL. XI. NO. II.

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with his present lot, he would sink into idleness, and make no exertion to improve it. Since, then, there is this natural desire to look into the future, notwithstanding we may consider it settled, that it was not the intention of the sacred writings to afford light upon this subject, it may still be asked, can we not form some conclusions for ourselves?

That this earth is not to endure forever, may be considered certain. Everything upon it is subject to decay; and it is continually undergoing important changes, which prove that it is not itself indestructible. The observations of astronomers, also, inform us that changes are constantly going on in the heavenly bodies. New worlds are formed, and others disappear. We have the strongest reason to conclude, that everything, which comes within the reach of our senses, is perishable, and that God only is eternal.

By a thoughtful and extended survey of the operations of. Providence in the past, as far as they have been unfolded to our view, we may form some conclusions in regard to the future. If we find that everything, of which we can judge, exhibits evidence of its being part of the same general plan, we have reason to infer, that those things, of which we cannot judge, are part of the same general plan.

May we not, therefore, form some good judgment in regard to the continuance of the human race in their present condition, by examining the history of the past, the time that this world has already endured, and the greater or less rapidity, with which our race has advanced from the creation to the present time?

We are now aware, that our planet has not always been inhabited by man; but that other races of animals successively ranged its surface, and that it probably existed thousands of years before it had any inhabitants. At first, it was a fluid mass, in which the materials of our present earth were probably held in solution, by heat. By the operation of this and other causes, it was gradually reduced to a state suitable for the existence of organized matter. Judging by what we know of the causes now under operation, and from the observations of astronomers, we may conclude that this process went on for a long series of years. By this continued action of heat, soil was gradually formed, adapted to the growth of plants and vegetables. The surface gradually cooled, and this process of cooling probably occupied ages. Vegetables then sprang up,

stocking the earth with food for the animals that were soon to appear; and with fuel for the use of man. Next came reptiles, fishes, and other sea animals, which, for a succession of years, had the earth to themselves. At periods remote from each other, the surface of the earth underwent some sudden revolutions, by which the then existing races of animals were destroyed, and the way prepared for others. Then came those huge animals, the mastodon, the icthyosaurus, the iguanodon, &c., which ranged the world for ages before the birth of man. These races were in their turn destroyed by some new revolution. The interval of time between these revolutions we have no means of computing accurately, in the present state of geological knowledge; but by comparing the causes, which must have produced them, with what we observe of those now in operation, we have reason to believe that it was very great.

We

Thus long, then, was the earth undergoing a state of preparation for the human race. If it be true that man is the first rational and accountable being that has yet inhabited it, we may form one of two conclusions. Either the duration of his race will be long, in proportion to the state of preparation which the earth underwent for his use, and he will continue to inhabit it until he has arrived very nearly at a state of perfection; or he will be transferred to some other world in order to give place to a new species, probably possessing higher powers than man. Other races have been destroyed, leaving behind no vestige of their existence, but their bones; but man, an immortal being, cannot be thus destroyed. Even in his mortal condition, he is closely connected with the spiritual world. suppose, that in this condition the spirit is in its infancy; and this is the first stage of an endless existence. How is this stage to be dispensed with, when the, world is destroyed? Will the number be complete, and no more be added? This is hardly probable. In infinity, there is doubtless room for an endless creation of beings. It seems more probable that our race will continue to advance towards perfection, and by the increase of knowledge and of virtue, become possessed of increased and still increasing powers, however slow this progress may be, until at last, guilt, sickness, and suffering, shall be heard of no more, and men shall pass from the mortal to the immortal state, without undergoing the pangs of death. This earth may then be dispensed with, or it may serve for the abode of a new order of beings; immortals being confined to no such narrow limits,

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