Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings,

Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs,

Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours. Cowper.

ON THE STATE OF LITERATURE IN NEW ENGLAND.

(Continued from p. 473:)

In the Colleges of New England a change is observable, and one which will appear of no small moment to the friends of sound erudition. The severer studies have regained that ground, which a number of years since, they were forced to abandon to that light and frothy stuff, which, under a hundred names, our booksellers' shops were pouring upon the public. The taste was lately to reject the study of the languages, and the mathematics, as fit only for pedants and laborious plodders, and totally beneath the attention of a man of genius. The student's library was a strange medley of extracts, compilations, and abridgements, plays, travels, and romances, which, however they might have become the chamber of a fine lady, suffered not a little, when compared with the classical dignity of their predecessors. Now the tables are turned. Scholars may be found who are not ashamed to confess that they derive great pleasure from the perusal of the ancient classics. It would now be no discredit to own one's self delighted with Xenophon, or Longinus, or to believe that, for accurate views of

It ought not to be passed in silence, that inferior schools have here been set on a more respectable footing, than, perhaps, in any other quarter of the world. The Legislatures of some of the New England States have manifested a truly paternal regard toward the education of all the children in the community. And so extensively is this blessing spread, that few might not, if disposed, acquire a knowledge sufficient to transact the ordinary business of life, to enjoy much satisfaction in the perusal of salutary books, and to become useful citizens of a free country.

We may also congratulate ourselves that the philosophical jargon, which made so much noise a few years since, and threatened to turn the literary and moral world upside down, has fallen into the most pointed neglect and

contempt. Nobody now reads those works which were pretended to be unanswerable in favour of the New Philosophy. Infidels themselves do not trouble their heads about them. As they were equally unintelligible to the learned and ignorant, the elevated and humble, they are quietly gone into oblivion, without leaving friends enough to mourn their loss. This might have been augured to be, their end, even in the full run of their popularity; for the great body of mankind will never be prevailed upon, for any considerable length of time, to read what they do not understand, and what af fords not the least nourishment to their minds. Those who ever did peruse the works, to which I refer, with much attention, were influenced by motives very similar to those by which Dr. Johnson represents the English pop ulace as induced to read the let ters of Junius; viz. "that those who did not know what he meant, hoped he meant rebellion." The event has been much the same with respect to that species of poetry, which answers to the philosophy in prose. The day of the authors is over; their magical spell has lost its force; and posterity will never hear of Della Crusca, Southey, and a host of other pretenders of less note, whose names, even now, it is difficult to recollect. Their memorial has perished with them. Attempts of this sort, when compared with productions of true merit, resemble meteors, which, though they may dazzle children for an evening, lose all their fascinating glare, when the sun rises in his strong and beautiful effulgence.

Another change, perhaps as widely extended through all classes of society, as any which I have mentioned, has been gradually wrought in the public taste with regard to novels. The time, we can easily remember, when these pernicious and corrupting books were almost universally diffused. The mischief which they introduced was incalculable. Idleness and false notions of life were always in their train, evils of no small magnitude; but not unfrequently they occupied the mind almost exclusively, rendered it indisposed to serious reflection, and became subservient to seduction and impurity, purposes to which they were but too well adapted. Printed on the coarsest paper, with marble covers, they were found in the cottage; and constructed of the most costly materials, they decorated the libraries of the opulent. The mechanic and the day-labourer stole time to read them; the belle and the house, maid were equally engaged in their perusal, except that the one had her toilet laden with them, and the other was not quite so abundantly furnished. They were even quite a prevalent topic of fashionable conversation, and ignorance of them was counted ignorance of every thing delightful. But now we scarcely see them, or hear of them; they seem vanished with the dreams which they contain. If this assertion be doubted, let the appeal be made to booksellers, and no one will doubt the justness of this criterion. The correction of the public taste, in so important a respect, must be regarded as an event peculiarly auspicious.

While we remark these alter,

never suffer himself to become the dupe, or the instrument of a faction. His patriot breast will disdain to harbour a spirit, that would immolate one half of his countrymen with the hope of ruling and reigning with the rest. Equally inimical will he be to that boasted philanthropy, whose colossal strides to fraternize the whole world, are stained with the blood and covered with the victims of all its parts. His benevolence for his kind will never wage war with his affection for his kindred. His friends are the friends of his country, and he is an enemy to those only, who are at war with its rights and liberties, The language of his heart is, and the same is inscribed upon every enterprize, "If I forget thee, O Jerusafem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth."

"When a knowledge of the military art is animated by a spirit of patriotism, it will seldom fail of being accompanied with true valour. This is another essential requisite in the character of a soldier. Not that courage, however, which would lead a man rashly and unnecessarily to expose his life to danger. Not that mistaken passion, which, rather than endure the adversities of life, tempts a man to lay violent hands upon him self. Not that false, impious courage, which under the influence of personal revenge, sooner than lose the pleasure of quenching the fire of resentment in the blood of a fellow soldier, looks to heaven, and challenges Omnipotence to preserve that life, which it has challenged man to destroy..... But that true bravery, which, in obedience to the call of its country, prefers the post of duty, although it be in the high road to danger and to death, to dishonourable flight, or dastardly obscurity, That active, persevering valour, that never sleeps when its country is in danger...is never weary in vindicating her rights and defending her liberties against the encroachments and usurpation of avarice and ambition. That magnanimity that cheerfully sacrifices private ease and emolument to public security, to national prosperity and happiness. That he roic fortitude that nobly dares to com

bat public error and vice, although it be at the expense of public favour, choosing rather to fall in the support and defence of national virtue, than to rise on the flood of national corruption and wickedness.

"This is a noble characteristic of a soldier. It is something different from that mechanical courage that is acquired in a crowd, or from calcu lations upon chance. It is something distinct from that hardihood, which arises from general insensibility to evil and to good. However useful this kind of bravery may be under the direction and management of a military despot; yet it is not that true valour, which excites admiration and inspires the greatest confidence. This is a virtue that arises from reflection; from a consideration of a greater good, than length of days; from a belief of an existence, that can neither be embittered nor destroyed by the wrath of man; from the hope of a reward for noble and virtuous actions, more sure and more lasting than national gratitude or popular favour; from the prospect of a crown more, honorary and glorious than the laurels, which the hero gath ers in the field of battle...more imperishable than the marble, on which is inscribed the conqueror's fame. This godlike virtue is the offspring of religion, and is nourished by piety. And we have said, that these are not only consistent with the character, but are the brightest ornaments, the most honourable insignia, the safest and most complete armour of a sol dier.

"With these the pious king of Judah was adorned, and by them also he was strengthened. They gave beauty to his character, and energy and splendour to his actions. We admire and commend his vigilance and activity in fortifying his cities and preparing for resistance. But we venerate more his humility and piety in trusting in the God of Israel; and, in addition to his own exertions, repairing to the throne of the Most High, and beseeching Him, in a time of trouble and danger, to be the shield® and refuge of his people. We ap plaud his wisdom and prudence in seasonably organizing his forces and amply furnishing them with instru ments of defence. But we are charm